#i can perfectly picture mads and hugh in it

[throatgoatwill]

I've always asked myself how (realistically) a hannibal and will kiss scene would be like in the actual series. how would bryan make it work as naturally and organically as their relationship's development through the seasons.

I'd never arrived at an answer that seemed right to me, and even reached the point of thinking a kiss scene wouldn't add much because their dynamic was already miles beyond such a thing. BUT. I think I just stumbled upon the best answer. At least to me. Idk, it just really synced with my interpretations of their love.

Ok so i've just watched hannibal (2001) and if you haven't already, I really recommend you to do so!!! bryan put SO many references to it on the series, and it's just incredibly satisfying to connect the dots in regards of the creative process of the series. - that said, the majority of the references that made their way into the show, were dialogues between hannibal and clarice, wich later became some of our favorite hannigram scenes.

and at the very final scenes of the movie, I was caught completely of guard by clarice and hannibal's kiss, and not only because of the kiss itself, but the whole context and build up towards it, and the events that followed. It was fucking perfect. And it really hurt me to wonder if bryan was planning to recreate that scene with hannibal and will, because it would fit SO WELL..... I swear, it would've been beautiful and even more heartbreaking than the original.

Especially because of these specific lines:

"Tell me, Clarice, would you ever say to me, 'Stop. If you loved me, you'd stop'?"

"Not in a thousand years."

"Not in a thousand years... that's my girl."

COULD WE EVEN SURVIVE SUCH THING AS HANNIBAL SAYING THOSE WORDS TO WILL??? LIKE???? "...That's my boy." ARE YOU KIDDING MEEEEEE.

And it gets even fucking better because, later, when clarice cuffs their hands together to prevent hannibal from running away, he threatens to cut of her hand, but just at the very last second before doing so, he ponders quickly, a single tear making it's way across his cheek as he says "this is really gonna hurt." and he follows up by amputating his own hand.

and we just know he is actually talking about being separated from her again, the pain it would inflict on him.

and if bryan had had the time to recreate that and adapt it to hannibal and will, that line would be about how it would hurt both of them, as it is: they're conjoined, not sure if either could survive separation.

here's the entire scene if you got curious, I really recommend watching it, it's beautifully made.

[uluvjay]

Luke Hughes smut prompt list 8 and 12

8. “I can’t sleep without you here”

12. “You can get louder can’t you”

Luke Hughes x Fem reader!

Warnings?; smut, phone sex, mutual masturbation, fingering( F receiving), hand job( M receiving), dirty talk, pet names, cursing.

I hope you enjoyed anon! I apologize for any errors💕

—

Usually this time of year you’d be at the lake house with Luke but you family decided to take a week long vacation in the middle of lake house season. You were extremely grateful to be able to go on a vacation but it was just you and your parents and you were missing your boyfriend.

And from what you could tell he was missing you as well, he texted and called you whenever he could and it was to the point his brothers were texting you to come back so they didn’t have to hear him complain anymore.

So here you were sat on FaceTime with him as your parents were out on a date and had told you not to wait up because they were going to go to get drinks after dinner.

“Luke you need to go to bed, it’s almost 11 there” you told him

“I don’t care I’m frustrated and I can’t sleep without you here” he mumbled

“Why are you frustrated baby? Did something happen” you asked a little concerned, Luke never really got miserable but you could tell by his face and tone of voice that he was.

“No, nobody made me mad and nothing happened..it- it’s sexual frustration” he admitted.

“Ohh” you said with a slight smirk knowing some of that was from the Bikini pictures you had been sending him and the outfit pictures of you in pretty little sundresses which he also loved on you.

“Yeah ‘ohh’, I swear I’ve been hard since the day before you left when Jack caught us” he said annoyed but the memory made you laugh.

You and Luke hadn’t had much time alone and when you thought everyone had already left to go eat you both booked it to his room and were to busy rushing that you didn’t lock the door. However right as Luke was about to insert himself in you Jack busted in asking for something but caught you two in the act instead.

Thankfully he didn’t see any of you because all Luke had taken off was your shorts and panties not wanting to waste the time with your shirt.

“I’m sorry baby, if it makes you feel any better I haven’t been able to have much alone time to take care of myself either” you told him.

“Wait..Didn’t you say your parents are out?�� He asked

“Yeah, why?”

“Wanna have phone sex?” He very bluntly asked

“Luke!”

“What? Wouldn’t be the first time”

“True..okay yeah let’s do it” you said laughing as you propped up your phone against your bed pillows and turned so Luke could see between your legs.

“Take your clothes off baby” he told you as you seen him lock his door and put an air pod in.

You did as told before getting back into position and began rubbling your clit.

“Did i say you could start touching yourself?” He asked and you immediately pulled your hand away.

“Sorry” you apologized.

“It’s alright baby I’ll let that one slide, we’re both needy” he told you before setting his phone in a position on his desk so you could see his hard cock perfectly making you moan at the sight.

“Miss my cock baby? Miss feeling it run along your folds, feel it fill you up, miss choking on it?” He was teasing you but you didn’t care because he was right, you hadn’t properly felt Luke’s cock in weeks, your few quickies so rushed and messy.

“Fuck Luke please, can I please touch myself?” You begged

“Yeah, go ahead baby. Rub your clit a little, imagine it’s my fingers” he told you, you could hear him groan at the sight of you playing with yourself.

“Feels so good Lukey” you moaned trying to keep your eyes open so you could watch him stroke his hard length.

“Put one of your fingers inside baby, remember start slow and then insert a second finger” he instructed

“Wish it was your hard cock Lukey, wish you were fucking me” you moaned out at him to help him through this as well.

“Shit Y/n” his breathing sped up a little and you could see his abs clenching, “you wish it was my pussy Luke? Wish you had my warm pussy hugging you, instead of your hand” you threw his questions right back at him.

“Fuck yes I do” he moaned watching you insert another finger.

“Fuck Luke!” You moaned throwing your head back as you pumped your fingers faster.

“I think I’m getting close” you told him

“Yeah? Can you feel your pussy clenching your fingers?” He asked watching you nod your head as moans were the only think coming out of your mouth.

He watched as your thighs began to shake yet your moans were to quite for his liking, “you can get louder can’t you?” He asked

“Ye-..yeah” you moaned

“Then let me hear you” and after that he listened as you let out one of the most beautiful moans he’s ever heard come out to your mouth.

“Luke! Im cumming” you told him as your worked yourself through it.

“Good girl baby” he praised as you came down from your high.

“Mhm, now let’s get you there” you told him as you remembered he still hadn’t came.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, spit in your hand Luke and I want you to think about me and how tight and warm my pussy is, how much you love to fuck it” you egged him on.

“Shit baby” he moaned as he threw his head back.

“Such a pretty cock baby but your balls are just as pretty and I want you to use your other hand to play with them a little” you instructed knowing how much he loved when you did it.

The moan he let out when his hands made contact with them was almost pornographic, you watched in awe as he took care of himself.

“So sexy Lukey, can’t wait to get home and let you fuck my throat” he let out a moan at the thought of having your warm, wet mouth wrapped around him.

“Shit Y/n I’m close” he told you, but you could already tell by the way his breathing was speeding up and his abs clenching.

“Come for me Luke, imagine your cumming deep inside me just how you like to”

You smiled as he came with a loud groan and cum shot all over his hand and pretty abs, enjoying his pathetic whimpers as he worked himself through his high.

“That was hot” you laughed after a minute of silence.

He began to laugh too as he stood up to find something to clean himself off with as you made your way into the bathroom connected to your bedroom.

“Thanks for helping me out Babe” he said

“Of course Luke, plus I needed it too” you shrugged before adding “but I was serious about getting my face fucked when I get back” you notified him.

“Yes ma’am” he laughed

-

[imperatorrrrr]

Why is Jack public enemy number 1? Sorry I don’t go on twitter but I keep seeing it here on tumblr

According to some folks on Tumblr, Jack Hughes didn't smile at them or was rude to them or something at the team signing event last night.

Anon, you're in for a treat, because I will be defending a white man on main. lets go!

I want to first reiterate a few things...

this was a team signing event. not a meet and greet. meaning, Jack Hughes and the other players were there to sign things, any further interaction or anything would have been a plus. I think someone actually shared the rules of the event on twt, posted below. you couldn't even take selfies or pictures with the players. it was literally just a line where you handed over something that you wanted signed and it got signed. of course, there were players that personalized the signatures or let people take selfies and posed with them, but this wasn't actually a part of the experience nor should it have been an expectation.

2. this is not "part" of Jack's job or any hockey players job for that matter. I think people need to realize that although hockey players are celebrities in a certain sense of the word, their interactions with fans are not a necessary part of their job. I'm seeing a bunch of people say that he's being unprofessional and if he can't be good with fans than he shouldn't be a hockey player, and thats, frankly, idiotic. Jack's job is being a hockey player. that is what he gets paid to do. anything on top of that is on top not a part of his job. please understand that a hockey player does not need to have a social media presence to do their job, doesn't ever need to interact with fans to do their job, and actually can play a hockey game without any fans and still get paid!

3. I genuinely don't believe any of the things being said on Tumblr are actually true or if these incidents of him being "rude" did occur I don't believe they're being interpreted the right way or are being relayed in the right context. Rather, I feel like this is just another instance of folks looking for a reason to dislike or even hate Jack. he's a very easy player to dogpile on because of how he plays and how he is portrayed by the media and his fanbase. you don't need a reason to hate the dude, go on and hate him, but please stop making up stories.

anyway...

as far as things I have seen and first person accounts I've been told, Jack was perfectly normal with everyone and especially nice to the kids.

folks are just mad that he didn't rise to whatever lofty expectations people had of Jack during a team signing event where everyone's time with the players was incredibly short and heavily policed. maybe be upset with how it was organized (like why did they have three player tables, it didn't make any sense!).

plus, I have seen several accounts of people hearing folks in line talking shit about Jack while waiting for him, so like what exactly do you expect to happen when he hears you waiting in line for his autograph and being entitled to his time and his generosity and you're chatting shit? like that he's gonna be all sunshine and roses with you? naaaaaaaah.

and finally, we speak so often about respecting the privacy of these players, taking into account their mental health, etc. but then you're gonna turn around and judge someone because they didn't do exactly what you wanted to do when you met them for fifteen seconds? so we're giving grace to players on one end and turning around and blasting other players. make it make sense.

this is essentially the "people pay to watch me play" incident all over again where that quote is taken out of context and then everyone and their mother runs with it because Jack is a very easy target.

[iprobablyshipit91]

Totally here and ready to enjoy some more Christmas goodness! 🎄🎅🏻🎁

Oh Ben. Like I know he’s on a mission and all but surely he can work the damn telephone? A quick text at least? I love that she had to rearrange the furniture to fit the tree in, like that isn’t brought up enough in fics. We have to remove a whole damn armchair for the month so our tree fits 😂 it’s so worth it though

And of course we have Butcher the cockblock as always 😂😂 the nicknames have me cackling as usual… Sid and Nancy and Churchill. Love it!

Okay so I know I’m not the only one saying this but I would love to see a part 2 where they have Christmas with her family. The possibilities with that… I really hope you choose to write it 😘

Hugh grants dance. It is a classic. That is all. I may have also booped away once or twice lol…

Adorable that he caught her in the action lol. Their reunion was so sweet. This line “Ben was still getting used to having someone to come home to, but it was grounding. This place was his home now, mostly because you were in it.” Had me melting. I say this every time I read him I know but the change in him is just 🥰

And then we’re back… “All I want to do is sleep…unless you want to give me a proper fucking welcome” I had to laugh so much at this!

And you know what, I love that you didn’t make this all smushy and Ben just doing whatever the reader wanted. It wasn’t perfect but that kinda makes this perfect. He’s soldier boy at the end of the day, he isn’t soft but he tries for her. Even if he doesn’t like it. I also love that the reader didn’t just get arsey and stay mad at him because he wasn’t following her traditions. It shows the give and take on both sides that ultimately makes this relationship strong.

There were a few lines I loved in this section “His grouchy face was the very picture of “humbug.” “ & “You knew that face. That was his, I’ll do this for you, but I’m not gonna fucking like it—face.”

But when he laid on her lap I was just melting again. He still griped a little but it was more cute than anything. And the story about the tree was such a nice touch. Obviously we know he didn’t have a great relationship with his dad so it was good to have a nicer memory. It’s always good to have the reminder that he does come from a different time too. Things were different and he’s having to do a lot of catching up very quickly.

The explanations of the movie I was loving. Even though I think it’s amazing, I remember it being harder to follow the first watch. I’m still not over Alan Rickman cheating on Emma Thompson and I don’t think I’ll ever be.

“Someone who loved you enough to curb his Grinch attitude about cheesy romantic things, like tree decorating and watching rom-coms with hot cocoa.” I think this line just sums it up perfectly.

Again, this was such a perfect lovely fic and got me feeling Christmassy way too early 😂 I really hope you do post a part 2 to this as it will be awesome! Great job 💕

Love Actually

Paring: Soldier Boy/Ben x Reader

Summary: Ben gets in late on Christmas Eve with a Grinch-like attitude, but you’re determined to force some holiday cheer into his system.  

AN: Here’s my last entry for the TGWRC: Christmas in July event! It’s set in the same world as “Break Me Down,” and set before “Checkerboard.” But this can be read as a stand-alone! Hope you enjoy…

Theme: Christmas movies Prompt: “That’s a poor excuse for a tree.” 

Word Count: 3,100 Tags/Warnings: SB being himself, wee bit of angst, potential fluff overload! 

He was late. 

It was Christmas Eve, and your boyfriend was late. 

With a large bowl of popcorn in your lap, you sunk further into your favorite corner of the couch, drumming your nails on its arm. 

Your favorite Christmas movie played on the ridiculously large flatscreen Ben had insisted on when you two moved into this apartment. But you couldn’t get into the story like you normally would.

It was the first Christmas you and Ben were spending together since he’d started working with, instead of against Supe Affairs and the CIA. In fact, he was on an extended mission—hunting down a rogue supe in Idaho, of all places.

Freakin’ Idaho. Goddamn potatoes, you thought irrationally, shoving another handful of popcorn into your mouth.  

While he’d been gone, you went all out in decorating the apartment: red and white candles, stockings, various ornaments, multicolored string lights, and poinsettias. You’d even found a nice little tree that fit in the only free corner of the living room.

Well, you’d had to rearrange some furniture to make that happen, but in the end you’d succeeded. It felt like you were living at the bottom of a snow globe.

You hadn’t heard from Ben at all in over two weeks. The day he left you outside your office in the Surveillance department replayed often in your mind.

Two weeks ago…

“Don’t give me that face, baby doll.” 

Ben quirked a smile at your concerned frown, and he propped a gentle fist under your chin. You crossed your arms.  

You knew he had to go. Butcher and the rest of the guys were waiting outside the S.A. office. And you were proud of him for what he was doing, genuinely trying to put in the work on this “hero” thing. But you didn’t have to like the timing. It was only two weeks until Christmas.

“Fine,” you agreed. “Just get this guy quick. I don’t want to hear my aunt’s shady-ass sniping. Every time I show up to a family gathering by myself, she starts plotting my arranged marriage to her fucking pediatrist, her divorce attorney—mind the irony there—or even the guy who packages meat at the grocery store—” 

“All right, Christ. I’ll be back in fucking time,” said Ben. He grabbed your arms to stop your verbal flapping. Then with a grin, his hands moved to the curve of your waist, down to get a healthy grip of your ass. 

“’Sides, I’m the only one flingin’ meat around here,” he said with a deepening smirk. 

You rolled your eyes, but a smile threatened to take over your frown as he pulled you flush against him, trapping your hands against his broad chest. You found purchase on the hard fabric of his uniform. 

“You’re so gross,” you said. But you pulled him down for a searing kiss. If you weren’t going to see his handsome face for a while, then you were going to make the most of this moment. 

And it seemed your boyfriend felt the same way; his arms wrapped around your frame like steel bands. Your fingers swept through his hair as your tongue slipped into his mouth, making his grip on you tighten with a pleased hum. 

“Oi! Sid and fuckin’ Nancy,” Butcher called from down the hall. “Got a fucking job to do. Today, if you don’t mind.”

Ben broke away from you, just enough to frown in irritation over your head. 

“Calm your fucking tits, Churchill. I’ll leave when I’m good and damn ready.”

You couldn’t help but giggle into his chest.

Now, it was quite literally hours away from Christmas Day. 

You would be seeing your family tomorrow, regardless. You and Ben were supposed to go to your mother’s house for dinner. But you were starting to think that he might not make it tonight, let alone tomorrow. 

And if you had to deal with your aunt nosing into your personal business again, your hand might just “slip” while pouring yourself a rum-filled eggnog, so you wouldn’t be held liable for your actions when you inevitably snapped on the bitch.

Sighing, you continued munching on some popcorn while you focused on one of your favorite parts of Love Actually. Hugh Grant was shaking his ass to “Jump In” by the Pointer Sisters.

The music was infectious, and you found yourself doing a little shimmy yourself on the couch in time with one of your favorite rom-com Brits. 

With the TV volume as loud as it was, not even the door of your apartment unlocking could stop your mini-jam session. 

And the door soon opened, revealing a dusty, soot-covered Benjamin, still in his supe suit and tactical gear. He took a small step back when the gaudy Christmas décor assaulted his eyes, but he blinked through it as he turned his head. 

His lips curved at the familiar sight of you—bundled up in your pajamas and a fuzzy blanket on the couch, bopping to the beat of some shitty ‘80s song he actually recognized. You were alternatively mouthing the words and eating fistfuls of popcorn. 

Shaking his head, Ben stepped into the apartment and shut the door with some force. You finally perked up at the sound, your smile alight with happiness when you realized he was home. That alone made him soften a bit. 

“Ben!” You paused your movie and bounded over to greet him with a warm hug and a deep kiss.  

He brushed your hair back and allowed himself to revel in the familiarity of you in his arms. 

“Aren’t you a fucking sight,” he murmured.

Ben was still getting used to having someone to come home to, but it was grounding. This place was his home now, mostly because you were in it.  

“You okay? How did it go?” you asked, wiping off some soot from his cheek. 

“Who do you think you’re talking to?” Ben offered you a cocky smile. “We smoked that pyro bitch.”

Your eyes narrowed. “You what?”

“Relax, the supe’s alive,” he said, rolling his eyes, as if it grated him to admit it. He wouldn’t tell you that the supe had two broken arms and probably a crack in his skull. “Being shipped off to prison as we speak.”

You nodded with a smile. “Good. I’m proud of you.” 

His lips pulled at a grin. But then you took his face between your hands with a hard slap (though it didn’t even sting, the point was made in your annoyed frown). 

“You’re late,” you said. Ben raised a brow. 

“Excuse me?” he said. 

“You heard me. You’re fucking late,” you repeated. “Go take a shower. I already started the first movie without you.” 

You tugged him by the hand and all but pushed him into the hall that led to your shared bedroom. 

Ben wasn’t one to be manhandled though. He dug his heels in obstinately. 

“Christ, I just got home. All I want to do is sleep…unless you want to give me a proper fucking welcome.”

He glanced at you over his shoulder with a more than suggestive smirk. He turned around and pulled you into his firm chest. His hands smoothed down your back and squeezed your hips, with his thumbs dragging under the hem of your pajama top.

While your lips threatened a smile, you had to wonder how he had enough energy for reunion sex, but not enough to watch a simple movie. 

Still, his offer was all-too tempting, making heat prickle along your skin wherever he touched. Nonetheless, you managed to remain stubborn and pushed gently against his chest.

“Down, boy,” you said. “If I let you get your hands on me now, I’ll never get through my list.”

First it was Love Actually, then Christmas Vacation, followed swiftly by Home Alone and its sequel, Lost In New York. 

Ben frowned at you. “So? Watch ‘em tomorrow.”

“In case you’ve forgotten, it’s Christmas Eve.”

You gestured to all your hard work in the form of the decorated apartment.

“Tomorrow, we have dinner at my mom’s house. So tonight, you’re gonna go shower," you said, pointing at him. "I’m going to make some more hot chocolate, and we’re watching all manner of cheesy, romantic, and downright silly Christmas movies until your Grinch-ass gets some holiday spirit.”

Ben released a tired sigh and dropped his hands away from you.

“I haven’t slept in three fucking days," he said. "I’m not staying up all night again for some corny bullshit.”

You frowned in disappointment. 

“Ben, come on. Please?” you tried, but he just waved a dismissive hand and continued his way to the bedroom.

For a moment, you watched him go in disbelief. Was he really going to be like that? 

With a flash of hot annoyance, you huffed and decided that you weren’t going to let him ruin the night for you. 

So you went into the kitchen and whipped up some hot cocoa, breaking out the actual Godiva chocolate bars you bought just for this moment. You poured out one mug initially. But you listened to the old water pipes working, knowing that Ben must’ve been taking a shower. 

You knew he wasn’t just tired. He didn’t seem to be looking forward to tomorrow either, and  was going along with it for your sake. Which, to be fair, could just mean he still wasn’t totally comfortable around your family. (Your sister Luisa still hadn’t totally warmed up to him.)

You also had a feeling that he just wasn’t into Christmas.

The question was why… 

But you poured a mug for him anyway, adding some mini marshmallows into each one. You brought both mugs with you back to the living room and set them down on the coffee table. 

Getting comfortable on the couch again, complete with your blanket, mug, and the popcorn bowl, you pressed “play” and continued watching the movie…even though you felt just a bit lonelier. 

But then, a weight dropped on the other end of the couch. You flinched and looked over at your now clean and pajama-clad boyfriend, who eyed you begrudgingly with his arms crossed over a soft plain shirt. 

You smiled at him warmly. “Hey, baby.”

His grouchy face was the very picture of “humbug.” Biting your lip, you set down the popcorn on the coffee table and handed him the spare cup of hot chocolate. 

“I made some for you,” you said. He gave you a brief nod and took a dutiful sip. But not even rich, chocolatey goodness could curb his sour mood as he stared blandly at the screen. 

You knew that face. That was his, I’ll do this for you, but I’m not gonna fucking like it—face. 

When he stifled a yawn, you knew that he hadn’t been lying. He really was tired. Sometimes you forgot that while Ben was all but indestructible, even he had his limits. Chasing that rogue supe across the country must’ve taken it out of him, even if he wouldn’t admit it. 

So you reached over and plucked the mug out of his hand. His brows knit together as he watched you set it down on the coffee table with yours. Then you grabbed his hand. 

“Come ‘ere,” you said, tugging him toward you. 

“What now?” he groused. 

“Just come on. Don’t bitch,” you teased. You guided him to lay across the couch, with his head pillowed in your lap. You grabbed an extra throw blanket off the back of the couch and draped it over him, making sure that it covered him up to his chest. 

“What am I, a damn kid?” he said. But you knew his griping had no real weight. Already he was humming deep with pleasure as your fingers carded through his soft brown hair. You let your nails drag lightly over his scalp, massaging his head. Your free hand stroked his cheek. 

Ben closed his eyes for a moment and let out a sigh through his nose. The movie continued to play, but you were no longer paying much attention. This was more important. 

When he opened his eyes again, they were drawn to the small, four-foot Christmas tree in the corner of the room, next to the TV. 

“That’s a poor fucking excuse for a tree,” he said. 

You frowned and followed his gaze. 

“I think it’s adorable,” you replied. And it was the only one you thought would fit in this cozy, but very narrow apartment. 

Ben’s arms crossed over his blanket.

“I’ll go tomorrow, find us a real fucking tree,” he said. 

Your frown deepened a little. “But I already decorated this one. All by myself, I might add.”

He eyed you then, a bit softer.

“All right, we’ll get a second one for the dining room,” he grumbled. “Getting the tree up is a man’s job anyway.”

You rolled your eyes at that. But you tried to see if there was anything deeper to read in his words. Not for the first time, you wondered how he’d spent his holidays in the past. No doubt with a lot of fanfare and celebrity parties during his hay day as Soldier Boy. You were more interested in his life before that.   

“I remember, my mom would run the show at Christmas,” Ben said.

You blinked down at him in surprise. Without knowing, he’d opened up on your exact curiosity. 

Or maybe he just knew you better than you thought.

“She’d have all the help in a damn tear around the house. Cooking, decorating, the whole nine yards. It was a perfect scene, like something out of a catalogue,” said Ben. “But getting the tree was always my dad’s job. His only job, really.”

You smiled and continued to listen with rapt attention. Your thumb continued to stroke along his neck. 

“One year, he got this massive one. Must’ve been…I don’t know, twenty feet. I don’t even know how he got it through the door, but he was mighty fucking proud of himself,” Ben said.

His gaze trailed beyond you, lost in faded memories. They played in his mind like a reel, wordless, but bright and warm. 

“Who decorated it?” you asked. Your voice drew his attention back. 

“Me and him,” Ben admitted, surprising you yet again. “Meanwhile, Mom baked up a storm for the Christmas party they threw every year…”

It was a rare moment where Ben recalled what seemed to be a nice memory of his father. But soon enough, the nostalgia dimmed from his eyes.

He cleared his throat and swiped a hand over his mouth, as if that could erase his moment of vulnerability. 

Then he turned to face the TV screen. 

“So what’s even happening here? Seems like there’s four goddamn movies playing at once.”

You cracked a smile and continued brushing your fingers through his hair. You also rewinded the movie so he could actually follow the story.

“Yeah, that’s what makes this movie so classic. See, there’s Emma Thompson and Alan Rickman. They’re married, kids, the perfect life, right? But he’s actually cheating on her with a younger, sluttier woman.”

“…And this is a fucking Christmas movie?”

“Yeah, you’ll see. Then there’s Liam Neeson.”

Ben perked up at that. “The Taken guy?” 

You nodded. “Yep! He’s a widower, but he has a stepson who’s got a sweet little crush. So he’s gonna try and help the kid impress the girl by helping him learn the drums.”

Your boyfriend nodded. 

“Musicians get plenty of pussy, that’s for damn sure,” he said. And with a knowing grin, “Actors get more though.”

You snorted and pointed to Hugh Grant next. “He’s my favorite. He’s playing the Prime Minister, who falls in love with his assistant, Natalie. That’s her right there.”

Ben raised a brow at your choice of “favorite.” If nothing else, he noted your type for older men. 

But he smirked when Natalie kept verbally fumbling in Hugh’s presence, then stared along with the Prime Minister at the woman’s ass when she walked away at the end of the scene.  

“Hmm, I’ll admit. She’s got a juicy peach,” Ben remarked. You laughed and hit his shoulder playfully. It worked an amused smile onto his face. 

He took your hand from his shoulder and pressed the back of it to his lips. You blinked down at him, and you warmed with a smile at seeing his more relaxed face. 

He kept your hand on his chest, his thumb drawing back and forth over your wrist. 

So you proceeded to explain the various angles of the movie until he was all caught up. 

You two watched the rest of it together. Like always, you cried when Colin Firth poured his heart out to his housekeeper, Aurélia, half in his mangled Portuguese and half in English. You cried again when Emma’s character finally confronted her cheating bastard husband. 

And you held your breath when Hugh and Natalie kissed as the stage curtain fell down, revealing their relationship to the world. 

By the time the credits rolled, you were an emotional mess. You were happy though. Typically you’d watch this movie with your sister, but it was nice to share the holidays with someone… 

Someone who loved you enough to curb his Grinch attitude about cheesy romantic things, like tree decorating and watching rom-coms with hot cocoa. 

You glanced down, and sure enough, Ben was asleep. He had turned onto his stomach. His head still rested in your lap, his cheek pillowed by your thigh, and he had a hand curled around your leg. Your big, growling bear of a man had a gooey center that sometimes surprised even you. 

For one mischievous moment, you considered sticking a piece of popcorn up his nose. 

He looked so damn peaceful that you didn’t want to ruin it…yet now you couldn’t get up either. 

Shit, you thought, but your grin was soft. Oh, whatever. Sleep is overrated.

You queued up Chevy Chase’s Christmas Vacation next in your movie marathon and settled in. You laid a gentle hand on Ben’s back, between his broad shoulders. 

And his story about his parents returned to the forefront of your mind.

Maybe he didn’t hate Christmas. Maybe it was just difficult for him to remember the genuinely good ones. Maybe he missed his parents; both of them, despite how contentious it had been between him and his father. 

You could certainly understand that. But now, you would make sure he would remember this one for the “good” column.

You only startled a little when your cell phone chimed on the coffee table. The screen read 12:00 a.m. It was officially December 25th. 

You then felt Ben’s warm hand squeeze your leg. His eyes were still shut though, his breathing deep and even in sleep. 

With a smile, you leaned down and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

And you whispered in his ear, “Merry Christmas, Ben.”

AN: Yay! I hope you liked this fluffy one for SB. Thus concludes my foray into Christmas in July! 🎄❤️

Did you like Ben's little day trip down memory lane? Let me know in the comments! 😘

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Tag List:

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@xoxovienna @katherineann83 @lollag0w0 @globetrotter28 @nancymcl @ashbatz @secretdreamlandmentality @kristophalis @wonderland2022 @emily-winchester @shelh93 @sl33pylilbunny @spoonmynoodle @chernayawidow

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@spnfamily-j2 @im-a-slut-for-fluff @lacilou @venicesem @mimaria420 @beautiful-life-coded @tearsfortheyouth @agalliasi @chriszgirl92

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Baby, It’s Cold...

Warnings: this fic includes dubious/nonconsent, fingering, lying, manipulation, and general Ransom naughtiness

This is explicit. 18+ only.

Summary: You go to meet your online admirer but not all is as it seems.

Note: Our Chris-mas fic is here! I tried to keep the holiday details as vague as possible and hope you all enjoy what I came up with. As a reminder, y’all chose Ransom Drysdale + Sugar Daddy + Silverfox (= yes please)

I hope y’all enjoy!

Let me know what you think! (Like, reblog, reply, leave some words, a gif, nonsensical emojis)

Your nerves wouldn't stop. It was the tap of your fingers, the urge to chew your thumb, and the way you shifted in your seat just when you got settled. The flight was long enough to calm down and definitely not long enough to prepare yourself. 

You scrolled through your phone, offline for the journey. You swiped through the photos saved in your gallery. Hugh had paid for the ticket. A gift for the holidays he said; his gift, he added, was you. It was cheesy but it made you smile. He always had a way of surprising you. One moment, he was stern and demanding, the next he was flirty and fun, and sometimes, he could be sappy. He was different than any man you’d met; well you hadn’t exactly met yet.

It had started on your Insta. You liked to post pictures of pretty things; flowers, birds, critters, and the odd monument. Sometimes, even, yourself. He messaged you about some photo of a vintage book. It was random and awkward. You weren’t quite sure how you managed to bring the quality to text but you did always find a way.

But it continued and you got to know him. He knew a lot about books; he said he worked in publishing. As a photography student, you weren’t as impressive. You assumed he was older; a few years, he said. Well, that wasn’t so bad. He also suggested you keep some prints; it could make for a good coffee table book. You liked hat he humoured you but you were like any other arts major; you were waiting for your green apron.

As they announced the landing over the speaker, you buckled in. You played with the locked buckle. You had lied to your mother. You told her you were staying on campus for the winter break. What would do if she knew if you were meeting a stranger? Huh, you were meeting a stranger and you had kept it all a secret. Your romcom had just become a horror in your mind.

Well, you had the app on the phone. The one that would send your location if you didn’t log in within the next eight hours. But it could be too late by then. Shit, this was stupid. So stupid. You could hide and tell him you missed your flight. Well, fuck, you’d texted him just before boarding.

As the plane descended you went through every worst case scenario; catfish, liar, murderer… Hugh was hot as fuck and you had to admit, a rich guy with eyes like his, was way out of your league. You bit your lip as you looked at the pic of him at the beach; was it the abs that made you so dumb or the smirk?

The large wheels rolled over the tarmac as the pilot steered past the other planes and into position. You waited as disembarkment began and the attendants reminded passengers to remain seated until told otherwise. You felt the wine in your stomach swish. Hugh had paid for first class; you had enjoyed the complimentary drinks a little too much. The first had been for courage, the second for foolishness.

Finally, it was time to get up. Time to face your naivety. Why did these things seem like a good idea until the last minute? Rather, why did you think they were? This was like that blind date in your freshman year that turned out to be a prank by your roommates. Sophomore year saw you relocated.

What if the same was going through Hugh’s head? What if he was disappointed? It was easy to seem cooler than you were behind a screen. It wasn’t exactly like you broadcasted the fact that you spent all your time in the library or the fact that your study group was the majority of your socialization. Well, maybe you’d both be let down and you could laugh about it together.

You grabbed your carry-on and followed the rest of the passengers down the ramp and into the tunnel. You felt like you were in a movie or a dream. It was surreal. Had you really flown all this way to meet this online pal? 

As you reached the escalators, you turned your phone off of airplane mode. There was a message waiting for you. ‘At the gate.’ It was all too real as you sent back an emoji and neared the belt to grab your bag. You extended the arm and rolled it behind you as you headed for the last barrier. You were waved through customs and met another set of escalators. You bounced your leg as you descended.

You got to the bottom and walked around as you searched those waiting around the gate. Blonde hair, you couldn’t miss it. Blue eyes, tall, broad shoulders… he was the type to stand out in the crowd. 

“Hey,” you felt a large hand on your back and another on the handle of your bag. “Right here.”

The deep voice was the same from your phone calls. You smiled and looked over as he took your bag entirely and wrapped his arm around you.

“I can’t believe you’re finally here.” You turned to him and his hand rested on your hip as he faced you.

The air went out of you and your lips parted. You blinked and sputtered. “H- Hi.” 

“You okay? How was the flight?” He asked.

You were in shock. Your entire body jittered and your breath was trapped in your chest. It was Hugh but he was about twenty years older than his photos. Most of his hair was silver, with only a few strands of blonde, and though he hadn’t aged poorly, the difference was stark. Handsome as he still was, he had lied.

“It was… fine.” You forced out. “I…” You shook your head and pouted as your thoughts raced, “Hugh, you’re… older than I expected.”

“Call me Ransom. Everybody does.” He leaned it, “Why don’t we talk about this in the car?”

You looked around. You couldn’t really just turn around and go home, could you? You lowered your chin and sucked in your lip as you thought. What else had he lied about?

“Sure,” you said thinly. “I…”

“Babe, it’s me,” he coaxed, “I’m exactly who I said I was. And you, you’re even more gorgeous in person.”

You glanced at him and nodded. You hooked your shoulder bag over your arm and he grabbed your hand as he pulled you with him. The wheels of your suitcase rolled loudly behind him as the buzz of the crowd drowned out your panicked mind. You let him guide you, in disbelief. You didn’t know what else to do.

You were outside as the haze cleared. You approached a car, sleek and sporty, though you were never good with types. Hugh, or Ransom, opened the trunk and dropped your bag inside. He went to the driver’s side and opened the door as you stared across at him. You mirrored him and lowered yourself into the passenger’s seat. The doors closed almost in unison and you stared through the windshield at the unfamiliar parking lot.

He cleared his throat and turned the engine. You snapped your belt into place as he shifted into gear. You flinched and crossed your arms. You peeked at him in the rearview and his hand crawled onto your thigh. His eyes met yours in the mirror and he smirked. You were paralysed as he steered with one hand and his fingers tapped against your jeans.

“Merry Christmas, babe,” he said, “Or… happy holidays. Whatever’s politically correct.”

He laughed and you only managed to choke on your spit. You felt like you should be mad but did you have any right to be? He hadn’t exactly catfished you. Not completely. And he had paid for your ticket and from what you could tell, he was just as rich as he claimed. Yet, that wasn’t exactly why you’d come. Sure, it was all just in good fun, you didn’t expect a whirlwind romance, but it was still jarring.

“Why don’t you just relax?” he purred, “I know it wasn’t too long a flight but flying always takes it outta me. And you’ll need your energy. I have lots of surprises in store for you.”

You nodded and leaned against the door. You hugged yourself and lifted your leg over the other and Ransom’s hand slipped away. He seemed unbothered as he sat back in his seat and turned his attention to the road.

The radio flicked on and filled the tense silence. You clung to the unknown lyrics to keep from drowning in fear.

🎁

Despite your doubts, you couldn’t help but be astounded by Ransom’s house. Almost four years in a dormitory and the Holiday Inn was like a palace to you, but his place was even more than that. A modern façade with a blanket of store across the sprawling yards which seemed to have been perfectly laid to match the straight lines of the structure. 

You stayed in the car as Ransom climbed out and took your bag from the trunk. You jumped in your seat as he tapped on the window with his knuckle. You looked over at him and undid your belt. You got out, your bag dangling from your wrist, and he touched the small of your back again as he led you forward.

“We’ll have dinner and then you can open your gifts,” he said, “That’s when the fun will start.”

“Mmhmm,” you hummed as he unlocked the door with a code and ushered you in.

You watched him hang his jacket and reluctantly unzipped your own. You put your bag down but kept a hold of your phone.

“You’re nervous,” he intoned.

“Why did you send me those pics and not something more recent? You lied.” You said.

His mouth slanted and he raised his brows. “They were me. Not much of a lie.”

“Enough of one, don’t you think?”

He chuckled. “I think you at least owe me a little leeway. Considering.”

“Considering what? You offered to pay. Don’t hold that over me.”

“I’m not but… you’re young, you’re impulsive. I mean, you came all the way here and now what? You’re going to tuck tail and run home? Spend the last of that bursary money so you can hide?”

“Don’t patronize me,” you huffed as you stepped out of your boots.

“I’m not.” He said firmly. “I’m giving you advice and it’s hard to see when you’re young but we both know you’re smarter than your age. We both know what this is and me being older isn’t going to affect that.” His eyes roved over you, “Is it?”

You lowered your lashes and thought. You wetted your lips and looked down at your phone. You unlocked it and opened the app. You keyed in your password and turned off the alert. You’d come this far and you were fairly certain he wouldn’t murder you. Besides, your mother would kill you once she found out you’d come all this way.

“It’s just gonna take me a bit to get used to it,” you tucked your phone away, “But promise me, that’s it. The only lie.”

“Promise,” he said gently, “Now, dinner should be here soon so why don’t you get changed.”

“Changed?” You snorted, “What--”

“Up the stairs, the room at the end of the hall, there’s a red box on the bed. It should fit. If it doesn’t, I’m sure it’ll still look great on you.”

You smiled as your cheeks burned. He was older but he still had charm and had aged into his looks and not out of them. 

“Alright,” you said, “I… what’s for dinner?”

“Another surprise,” he replied as he neared and leaned in, “I’m more excited about dessert.” His breath tickled your cheek, his lips too, and you shivered. “Now go, we’ve both waited long enough for this.”

You drew away and turned to head up the stairs. He tapped your ass and you squeaked. You looked back over his shoulder and he winked. “Can’t help myself,” he raised his hands, “But I’ll try.”

You continued up the stairs and tried not to gape at what had to be expensive art. The furniture was no less extravagant and as you entered the room at the end of the hall, you closed the door and pulled out your phone. You typed in Ransom instead of Hugh Drysdale and pages of results popped up. Editor, Publisher, and Owner of Blood Like Wine Publishing. Jesus Christ, were you really that daft?

Well, he was famous enough to reassure you he wasn’t going to kill you. You tossed your phone on the bed beside the box and carefully untied the black ribbon around it. You shimmied the lid off and revealed the red velvet. You lifted it up, a short little piece trimmed with white fur. It was the most ridiculous thing you’d ever seen but scandalous nevertheless.

You stripped as your nerves only got worse. You slipped into the dress, it was tight around your chest and the short skirt had a slit along the thigh. You wanted to laugh at yourself. There was a pair of heels at the foot of the bed and you sat to slip on the stilettos. You stood and wobbled. You felt so dumb but a glance in the mirrored door of the closet gave you pause. Not bad.

You slowly made your way down the stairs. You held tight to the railing and as you came to the bottom, you looked around at the airy halls. You wandered into the next room and back to the kitchen. You stopped in the doorway as Ransom looked up from the counter. He carefully plated the food from the containers surrounded by paper bags. Expensive, boujie take out.

“The other way,” he smiled, “Past the stairs. I’ll be in shortly.”

“Oh, okay,” you spun and caught yourself on the wall. 

You found your way to the room across the hall. There was an artificial fireplace in the wall burning and a low table with two cushions planted deliberately on the floor. There was a bucket with ice and champagne in it and two glasses waiting. You crossed to it and touched the petals of the stemmed roses in the tall crystal vase.

You turned as you heard footsteps. Ransom entered with two plates. He passed you and set them down on the low table. He spun back to you and took in every inch of you. “Wow, you look… great.”

“Thank you,” you shied away and he caught your hands. He pulled you close as the candlelight gleamed along his silver hair.

“Come here,” his hand grazed your arm and he caught your chin, “Amazing.”

He brushed his lips against yours and pressed them more firmly. You let him as you heart hammered and he pulled away as he nibbled your bottom lip.

“Let’s eat,” he breathed. “Before it gets cold.”

You followed him to the table and sat on the cushion. It was difficult as your skirt rode up and you bent your legs beside you awkwardly as Ransom popped the cork. He poured the wine and you sipped at the foam. You could still feel the glow of the grigio you’d downed on the plane.

“So, did you bring your camera? Tomorrow we might go out and you can get some photos. It’s beautiful in the winter. Cold but makes warming up all the better.”

“Yeah…” You took a bite of the salad. “So, why didn’t you tell me who you were? If your age doesn’t matter, then--”

“You didn’t ask me for money. Not even when I mentioned it. Most women, I tell them who I am, they google me, and they do a poor job of tiptoeing around my checkbook.” He shrugged. “And I like you. I wanted to get to know you without everything else.”

“Get to know me?” You scoffed. “That’s what you call it?”

“My intentions were innocent. At first. I thought your pictures might make a good book and then I found one of you. Business isn’t everything.”

“Oh,” you fluttered your lashes, “It’s not?”

His hand snaked over to your thigh and he squeezed. He played with the fur along your skirt.

“I have enough money.” He said, “What I want isn’t so simple.”

🎁

You finished dinner and washed it down with the champagne as Ransom cleared the plates. As came back, you sat on your knees and watched him cross the room. There was a table stacked with presents in the corner. You only just noticed it as he looked it over and picked out one wrapped in gold paper.

He neared and held it out to you. You took it and ran your finger over the edge. “Your gift is in my bag,” you tried to stand and he waved you off.

“Later,” he said, “Open it.”

You slid your finger under a fold and tore. You slowly unwrapped the box; black and shiny. You crumpled the paper and dropped it on the table. You wiggled the lid off a revealed a pair of black furry cuffs. You giggled.

“Thanks,” you looked up at him.

“Stand up,” he said.

“W-Why?” You tilted your head.

“You gotta try them on,” he grinned, “Come on. Just a little bit of fun.”

“I don’t know, I never--”

“I know you didn’t come here just for steak so come on, get up.” He demanded, “And turn around.”

You bit down as you stared up at him. You wanted to laugh but the lines in his forehead warned you he was serious. He bent and took the cuffs from you and set the box aside. You stood, numb and shaky. You didn’t believe it. He wasn’t going to--

He spun you around and swept your arms behind you. You tried to pull away as he caught your left wrist in a cuff and quickly hooked the other. They closed tight around your wrists and he tugged on the link as if to test them.

You stared at the artificial flames licking at the glass. He cupped your ass and dragged his hands around to grip your hips.

“They look nice,” he purred, “Oh, baby.”

He bent and nuzzled your neck as he brought his arms around you and kneaded your tits. He pushed them up as he nibbled at your skin.

“These… are perfect,” he kissed you and teased your flesh with his teeth. “Fuck.”

He pulled down the top of your dress and bared your chest. You wriggled and he hugged your waist he kept you close.

“What are you doing, baby? Where are you going to go?” He tweaked your nipple, “Dressed like a little slut.”

“Hey,” you gasped and he retracted his hand to smack your ass.

He hushed you as his fingers crept down your thigh and he rolled up your skirt an inch at a time. “What are these?” He snapped your panties, “You don’t need those.” He pulled them below your ass and they fell to your ankles. “Let me show you what an old man does better than any kid.”

He reached around you and tickled your pelvis. He raised his head and inhaled the scent of your scalp as his hot breath glossed over your head.

“Don’t be shy now… or would you feel better with a camera?” He taunted. “Hmmm?”

“Hu--Ransom,” you uttered.

“Come on,” he forced his hand between your legs and flicked between your folds. “What did you think this was? How long did you think I’d wait?”

“No, but--” You gasped as he toyed with your clit, “Ransom.”

“Say it again,” he swirled his fingers. 

You gulped and moaned as he rubbed harder. Your legs quaked around his hand as he slid his fingers further back. You felt your arousal slicken as he spread it over your cunt and poked around your entrance. He slid a finger inside of you as he wiggled his crotch against your hands.

“Is this what you came for? Or did you want all of me?” He pushed another finger in. “You want me inside you, baby? Stretching you?”

You groaned as he curled his fingers and pressed the hell of his hand to your clit. He rocked his hand and cried out. Your legs cramped as your feet curled in the high stilettos.

“It doesn’t really matter what you came for,” he pushed on your shoulder until you bent forward. He caught the middle of the cuffs and held you like that. “I’m gonna get what I want.”

You closed your eyes and whined as he pulled his fingers out of you. You quivered and he spanked you before he withdrew his hand entirely. You felt him fumbling behind you as you shook your head. As you had been since you met him, you were off-balance. You couldn’t decide if what he wanted was what you wanted too.

You felt a prod along your ass. He brushed his tip down your cheek and poked between your legs. He wetted himself on your folds and pushed along your entrance. Slowly, he slid into you, grunting as he sank past his tip. Deeper and deeper until you threw your head up and moaned. He filled you completely; painfully and delightfully.

“Yeah, you want me.” He hissed as he thrust and jerked your body. “You want to be mine, don’t you?”

You hummed as he moved against you, your shoulders straining as he tugged on the cuffs.

“Say it. Say you want to be mine.”

“Ah,” you moaned, “I want-- to-- I-- I’m yours.”

“You’re mine, baby,” he snarled, “All mine. Aren’t you?”

“Y-y-yes,” your eyes rolled back as he sped up.

He rammed into you so hard your legs buckled. He growled and followed you down. He bent you over the table as swept the bucket and vase out of the way. He got to his knees as he pinned you over the top and crushed your hips against the edge. Your cheek was hot against the cool table as he jolted you.

“Mine,” he grunted, “Baby, all mine…”

He rutted into you as his voice mingled with yours. You whimpered as your legs tingled and your core bloomed. You let out a feral whine as you came, convulsing beneath him as he gripped the table above your shoulder. 

“You want me.” He rasped, “You want me to cum in you.”

“I-I-I…” You twisted your hands as you struggled to think; struggled to do more than murmur wildly.

“Fuck.” He swore and you felt him burst. 

He slowed as he slapped the table and when he stilled, he held himself over you and his breath sent a shudder through you. He sat back on his knees and slid out of you. His cum spilled down your thigh and you slumped down against him. He pinched the velvet bunched around our waist.

“You got more gifts to open, baby,” he slapped your ass as he stood, “You think you can keep up with an old man like me?”

[emily-the-fae]

Ok so I have been in the interest area for some time

And I may have gotten interested in several Draculas

Here is a list of who I have on team:

5. Bram Stoker's Dracula

I mean come on, Gary Oldman in late Victorian era suits is just extremely handsome. The warrior that became a vampire: seductive, cruel, very nice when in love.

They were quite very bold when they named the movie "Bram Stoker's Dracula" to be honest - like, yes, it is very evident that they followed the author, but decided to add a more romantic plot with some Victorian sensuality. My personal opinion - they tried too hard: they wanted to fit their own storyline of Mina x Dracula love to the original Stoker story, while keeping up at least in the beginning to the author's stile of reading diaries and switching POVs in 2 hours of screentime - it did not go as smoothly as one might have wished, the time is obviously not enough, the story and character relationships are a bit rushed. Besides some characters were well... Lucy's lovers are a bit dumb - far worse than they were in the book and Lucy - ok I get it, you wanted to add eroticism, but not like that!!

In general not so bad. I like it, feels like a nice interpretation.

4. Netflix Dracula

Well, the storyline began as if it could have been Bram Stoker's, but proved to be very different from the original quite quickly. Another nice interpretation. Van Helsing is a female and a nun - that's quite an interesting change. (Seriously, I love the character, she's a big mood.)The modern versions of characters in 3rd episode seemed kinda cool too

Absolutely loved the idea of Dracula absorbing the memories and knowledge with blood, it's really cool. ( Can I please be a vampire too? I really need that for my studies!)

Claes Bang portrayal of the vampire seemed very impressive. Loved it - didn't expect to but loved it - it was the first Dracula movie I watched and it left me under a spell.

Plus the human-eating irony - Hannibal Lecter would have shook Dracula's hand for that, those two have a common sense of humour and aesthetic.

As with the previous one, I enjoyed the interpretation quite a lot.

3. Van Helsing

Well, in that one.

The story has almost nothing to do with the book, doesn't even try to, but the plot they made is exciting - the ancients old enemies concept and all that stuff. The gothic Transylvania/Budapest/Paris/wherever else they were depiction is lovely - it gives the viewer this sense of darkly beautiful atmosphere of vampire stories; soundtrack adds to the picture nicely.

Characters, well... Anna is cool if you look at her in terms of personal - keep up the family values and stuff. BUT a young lady wearing tight trousers in 19th century, are you kidding me??? I'm sorry, but that weirded me out a bit. Same with that moment when "oh I fell five meters and before that soaked under rain, look at my perfectly soft curls" - the female characters in that movie are a bit overly fancy for the time and the action genre - same with Dracula's brides, they're kind of cute, love their babies and Dracula, but why on Earth are they always half-naked?

Van Helsing has a bit of a younger and sadder Mad-Eye Moody vibe. "I kill monsters, although I do pity the humans that sit inside of them. These things need to die" - that kind of person. Hugh Jackman plays him nicely, I felt him very fit for the role - he and Dracula are basically what really saves the film and makes it interesting.

Dracula here is just.. I mean aw. He's hot. He's got a nice accent, he turns into some flying half bat thing that looks hella cool, and he removes his cape in such an extremely graceful gesture that it makes one faint. Love that guy.

(+ the ballroom dance scene was very sensual and gothic, it was one of the reasons I started watching the movie)

2. Dracula Untold

The story of medieval Dracula and how he came to be a vampire - to protect his people and his family. Politics, love, monsters and broken dates. That movie has a great plot and some points which make you stop and wonder (oh do I love the quotes of those "sometimes the world doesn't need another hero, sometimes what it needs is a monster" and of that sort, just beautiful)

It is kind of tragic, but it has a bright side to it, I am extremely grateful to the authors for what they did to the ending.

And Dracula himself well... Luke Evans is just gorgeous in the role. The ultimate strong warrior vampire - a monster to his enemies and a loving husband and father to his family. Dracula redeemed. This one is sweet.

1. Castlevania

Aaaand here we go on my favourite one. If you don't mind watching anime and you love vampires/gothic stuff - you're probably gonna enjoy this. I did. I loved it: the plot, the characters, their relationship, the whole concept of the vampire community and Dracula the vampire King, their motivations. It's catching, it's mesmerizing, it charmed and drew me in (read: I cried and wailed together with my friend, this left me a trauma, I had to write a big fanfic to make up for the pain).

Main characters - Adrian, Sypha and Tevor are a bit Ron, Harry and Hermione but they are a lovely trio, I love the tension between Trevor and Adrian. Very loveable characters, and I dare say quite well written.

And, well, Dracula. Excuse me, this one is my personal favourite. I mean - a beautiful castle, that is moved by some cool mechanisms to wherever Dracula pleases, an enormous library with all the forgotten knowledge of the world. Dracula himself is extremely well-educated, well-mannered, THE gentleman (and yeah well 8ft tall but let's skip that bit). I love that character he is in so much pain I want to hug him and cuddle him into warm blankets. He is a sweetheart.

So that was a short attempt of a person who is terrible at criticizing stuff to write some film reviews. In case anyone is interested. And for me to reassemble my journey into the vampire world.

[waywardfangirl]

For the fantastic @fight-surrender: You are a wonderful person with a brilliant mind and a kind heart, and I am so happy to know you! I really enjoyed the prompts you suggested for the Secret Snowflake exchange this year, so to give you something fluffy and happy for your birthday I combined a few of them into one sweet and silly fic - I hope that you like it! 🖤

A big thank you goes out to @carryonvisinata for her wonderful beta work and for making this fic even better for such an incredible friend 🖤 Purr-fect Strangers

Rated: General Audiences Word Count: 3208 Chapters: 1/1 Simon

"Die Hard? Really?"

I'm struggling to make the Redbox give me my DVD. Video vending machines sounded like a good idea when I couldn't find anywhere to stream my favorite movie, but the obstinate thing in front of me and the condescending voice behind me are now making me reconsider my choices.

"What's wrong with Die Hard?" I demand, momentarily giving up on retrieving my video to take some of my frustration out on the prick watching me.

Unfortunately, when I turn around to scowl at him, I make eye contact with one of the most attractive people I've ever seen. He's tall, with dark hair escaping the bun on top of his head and falling around his face, and a perfectly tailored suit hugging every inch of his body right on down to his shiny Chelsea boots. My brain shorts out, and he sneers at me.

"There’s nothing wrong with it, per se. But you have a near unlimited assortment of cinema to choose from, and you've selected Die Hard?"

(Read the rest on ao3, or keep reading here)

I scoff.

"Look, mate, some of us don't feel the need to watch pretentious films just to feel better than other people. I like Die Hard. I'm going to watch it while eating pizza and relaxing in joggers, and I refuse to feel bad about enjoying that."

He looks a bit startled, and his cheeks take on a slightly pink tinge, but he just arches an eyebrow at me. (And manages to make that look unfairly hot too, the prat.)

"What movie are you renting?" I say it like a challenge, and he pushes past me.

He deftly removes my DVD from the stubborn machine and thrusts it at me, before turning back around to get his own. I loiter behind him, just like he did to me, ready to see what movie he thinks is better than Die Hard.

"Two Weeks Notice?" I exclaim, when I see the poster pop up on the screen. "You're ridiculing Die Hard, but getting a rom-com for yourself? Unbelievable."

He pushes past me and turns up his nose. My blood boils for so many different reasons, and it's work to hold myself still.

"This has Hugh Grant in it. My tastes are superior."

Then he swans off, and I'm left standing on the kerb.

Baz

A year into my time at university, I started treating myself to a monthly visit to Sephora. It was easily excusable then, with parties every weekend to justify each new purchase, but I've kept up the tradition since graduating. (Retail therapy and good skin care never hurt anyone. And a little eyeliner does wonders for one's self esteem.)

This month, I'm browsing for something sparkly. My eyes are grey, but with a dark, glittery liner I think they might stand out a little more. I'm just testing one of the pencils on the back of my hand when I see him.

Blond hair, plain blue eyes, and a constellation of freckles and moles across his skin. The most lovely man I have ever seen, with the worst taste in movies, and (I'm sure) a well-deserved hatred for me.

For all that I try to appear cool and confident, my facade sometimes fails me. When I get flustered, I become cruel. The man renting Die Hard was so pretty that all I could do was insult him and then curse myself for it the entire way home. I couldn't even properly enjoy Hugh Grant, as mired as I was in self-loathing. And now, whatever second chance to impress him I've been granted with has surely been ruined by my actions last time.

I keep my head down and steal glances at him through my eyelashes.

He is entirely out of his element, that much is obvious right away. I watch him ask one of the shop assistants for help, and she points him in the direction of a display. His brow furrows as he picks up different containers, and he’s ridiculously precious and hopeless as he holds a lipstick tube next to a garish eyeshadow palette and closes one eye to look at them. (What is he even doing?)

Finally, his confusion seems to win out, and he turns to look around for help, when he suddenly spots me. I've been caught out; I can't pretend now like I haven't been staring, and he scowls a little as we make eye contact. I arch an eyebrow, watch as his face grows pink in anger, and decide I hate myself enough to try talking to him again.

"That's really not your shade."

"What?" It's a simple word, horribly enunciated, and does nothing to quell the wrinkle between his eyes.

"The purple. I don't think it would flatter you. Furthermore, that lipstick clashes horribly with every color in that palette."

He turns a bright red and starts to splutter. I am hopelessly endeared.

"That's not- I, I don't- it isn't-"

"Oh, calm down, there's nothing wrong with wearing makeup," I say, flashing him the back of my hand with the eyeliner tests on it. "You just need to pick a better shade." I pluck a different palette (for blue eyes) and a lipstick in a true red from the display and hand them over. "Something like this."

He stares at them dumbly for a moment, his mouth hanging open. (Mouth breather.)

"You think I should wear this?"

"I think it would flatter you if you chose to wear makeup. That purple will do you no favors." I sneer at the garish eyeshadow still in his hand.

"It's for my friend!" he finally bursts out.

"Are you mad at her?" It's a reasonable question, that eyeshadow is truly appalling.

"No? It's her birthday next week, and she said that she wanted to have some makeup for date nights and things."

"Are you in love with her?"

"No!" No hesitation at all. "No, no way. Penny is like my sister. She's my best friend. We're not…" he trails off, and I'm strangely reassured. He still probably hates me, but at least there is one woman in the world that he’s not dating, so my odds have improved marginally.

"Don't get your pants in a twist. I just thought you might be, since that eyeshadow would certainly drive away her current boyfriend."

He sticks out his chin and seems to decide something.

"Fine. What should I get for her, then?" The “if you know so much” is left unsaid.

I'm not really an expert, despite my monthly purchases, but I'll take any excuse I can get to linger around this starburst of a boy for a few moments more.

"Does she wear makeup normally?" He shakes his head no. "Then perhaps start with something more subtle for her." I take the offending palette away and hand him a more subdued one, with a faint shimmer. "Do you think this would look nice on her?"

He thinks hard for a moment, then pulls out his phone, swiping at the lock screen and turning it to face me.

"This is her."

His home screen background is a picture of the two of them, cheeks pressed together and grinning like crazy under the summer sun. His curls are being tossed by the wind, and he looks like a bronze Adonis. I think my heart actually skips a beat at the sight.

"That palette will be fine then. This lipstick, too," I add, handing him a plum shade. "Do you need anything else?" I ask, and then cringe when I sound like I'm working instead of flirting.

He shakes his head.

"No, this is brilliant, thanks."

He still looks a bit confused, and he bites his lip as he looks down at the makeup in his hand - the makeup for his friend, and the things I picked out for him.

I don't want to go, but I can't figure out any way to prolong our conversation.

"You should get that one," he says, pointing to one of the lines on my hand. I raise an eyebrow in question. He's right, but what does this mean? Is he flirting? Does he want me to wear eyeliner? Is he just trying to repay me for helping him? "Yeah. Definitely that one."

He raps his knuckles on the counter beside us twice, and then wanders towards the check out.

It's not until I'm trying to fall asleep that I realize - he bought the makeup for himself too.

Simon

One of my foster fathers had a workshop, and I spent a happy summer watching him build a table and matching chairs for the dining room. I didn't get to stay to see it completed, because one of his biological children kept stealing money out of his mom's purse and blaming me, but I still enjoyed the time I had spent watching woodworking. I liked it so much that when Penny and I graduated and got a flat together, I saved up to buy a few tools. I don't make anything major, but I've built small shelves and a side table and a pan organizer for the flat, and I really like it.

Recently, Penny has been complaining about not being able to reach everything in the kitchen, so while she's still at work I stop by the B&Q to pick up some wood for a step stool. I'm heading to the check out when I see him - the mean makeup guy. (Although he was actually quite nice when we were talking about makeup. He was just rude when we were getting our movies.)

He's dressed casually today, in tight dark jeans and a warm grey sweater, with his hair falling in loose waves around his face. He's glaring down at two wrenches, and I hate that he still looks so good when he's glowering.

Before I even register what's happening, my feet have carried me over to him.

"D'ya need help?"

He startles, and turns lovely grey eyes up to look at me. It's work not to gasp. He’s wearing eyeliner. I'm not entirely sure, but I think it may even be the eyeliner I told him to buy.

"The sink in my kitchen is leaking. I watched a tutorial on YouTube, and it should be easy enough to fix, but I don't have the proper tools."

He goes back to glaring at the wrenches, and I lean over to take a look.

“You want that one.”

“Why? How do you know?”

“Well, it’s adjustable. You can change it within reason, so as long as your plumbing isn’t something incredibly out of the ordinary it should fit just fine.”

He looks surprised (and maybe a bit like he wants to attack me, although I try to ignore that).

“How do you know that?”

I laugh.

“Basic home maintenance, mate, I’ve had to fix a leaky sink before too, believe it or not.”

I grin at him until one corner of his mouth tips upward in response.

“Thanks,” he says, his cheeks flushing a little. “I’ll get this one then. Yes. Thank you. Have a nice evening.”

He strides off, once again leaving me feeling a bit dazed.

He looks really good in eyeliner.

Baz

When Fiona discovered I hadn’t left the apartment in a week, she called in the cavalry. Daphne showed up at my door with a casserole and some flowers, and within minutes she had the kitchen feeling like a place that was less utility space and more home.

“Basil, Fiona is worried about you.” I rolled my eyes, despite knowing it wouldn’t get me anywhere. “I’m worried about you, too. You spend so much time by yourself, and you hardly ever go out to see your friends or enjoy the city.”

“I’m fine. Thank you for your concern.”

“Basil,” she had said, and that time it was a warning. “It’s not healthy for anyone to spend this much time alone.”

“What, do you expect me to get a cat?”

Daphne smiled, and I knew that I had said the wrong thing.

“Yes, actually. And,” she said, before I could object, “Fiona thought you should too. In fact, she made it a condition of your continued occupancy of this flat. We both think it might be nice for you to have someone else around to talk to.”

I arched an eyebrow.

“And you want me to talk to a cat?”

Daphne just gave me a Mona Lisa smile, handed me a plate filled with food, and told me when she left later that evening that I had forty-eight hours to send her a picture of a cat. (I asked what I should do if I didn’t like any of the cats I saw. Or if they didn’t like me. She said I had to at least prove that I tried.)

So, this morning, I made my way to the nearest RSPCA and talked to strangers for the first time in over a week. I told them that I was looking to adopt a cat, and they immediately led me to a room filled with individual cages and an assortment of felines. They said I could play with any of the cats that I wanted, and now I’m staring into the eyes of a fluffy orange tabby.

The tabby meows at me, and I swear that she’s telling me to get lost. I guess cats can tell when you’re out of your depth.

I stroll down the aisle and read the names given to each cat. It’s been years since I last had a pet and even then, the husky my family had wasn’t my sole responsibility. I was in charge of feeding him, but there was always someone else making sure that I did. And really, we only adopted him when my pediatrician suggested that an animal might help me after my mother died. Daphne is probably trying to do the same thing again now. (Is this how one becomes a crazy cat lady? Depression, anxiety, OCD, and an unwillingness to tolerate therapy?)

I keep walking slowly until I feel a tug on my sleeve. I look down, and a little orange paw ending in one very sharp claw has latched on to me. I unhook it before my sweater can snag, and then look into the kennel. There are two kittens, each only about ten weeks old according to their cards, and the orange one is peering up at me with big blue eyes. Its littermate is asleep in the corner, curled into a fluffy black puffball, but the tabby is ready to play. His tail twitches, and he pounces immediately when I wiggle a finger between the bars. He catches my fingertip in a far more gentle grasp than I would have imagined, then looks at me with what can only be described as pure adoration.

“Excuse me,” I say, moving my finger some more and feeling small claws dig in. Then again, louder, to get the attention of the woman, “Excuse me. Can I see this one?”

The woman comes over and flips the latch, then reaches in and comes out with a handful of fur and knives. The kitten opens its mouth in a fierce imitation of a vampire, then stretches it further as it lapses into a yawn. We spend the better part of an hour in a bright, cheerful room, just the kitten and I. At first it chases a string that I drag along the ground and runs after balls with bells in them, but then it calms down and curls up in my lap to sleep.

I’m petting it and cooing softly to it, trying to ignore the fact that Daphne and Fiona were both right about this whole thing, when the door to the room opens again.

“Oh. It’s you,” says the most beautiful man I have ever seen. My face flushes when I remember our last encounter and I pray he doesn’t remember my ignorance. (Of course he does. I didn’t know how to select a wrench. I am incapable of basic home repair and he knows it.)

“Do you two know each other?” The woman from before is back, this time holding the other kitten from the same cage, and looking between the two of us. “These kittens aren’t technically a bonded pair, but they are siblings, the only two remaining from their litter, and it would be lovely if they could still see each other.”

“Err…” the man says, shifting his weight.

“We’ve met in passing a few times now,” I say, trying to avoid encouraging this line of questioning.

“Great!” she says, clapping her hands brightly after handing the kitten off. “I’ll leave all of you to get better acquainted then!”

For a moment, there’s just awkward silence. Neither of us are looking at each other, both focusing on our respective kittens. Then, his kitten turns into the feline equivalent of a slinky, oozes out of his grasp, and runs over to tap my leg once before running away again. It hides behind his legs, and all I can see is a black tail winding around his ankles.

We both laugh, and the ice is broken.

“I’m Simon,” he says, and smiles at me. It’s the same radiant smile I remember from his lockscreen. It feels like looking into the sun, and I bask in it.

“Basil. Although my friends call me Baz.”

“Are you going to…” he trails off, but gestures to my cat.

“Yes,” I look down and give it a scratch under the chin. “I’m going to adopt it.”

“Same here,” Simon says, and then he blushes. “I mean, unless it rips my face off in the next few minutes, but I think this is the one.”

“Do you know which one you have?” Their names and genders were on the cage, but it didn’t specify who was who.

“No idea. I’m going to rename mine anyway though, I didn’t like either of those names.”

“I was planning on doing the same thing. If I’m going to have a pet, it needs to have a proper name befitting its personality. Not something mundane like Fluffy.” I scowl, and he laughs.

As his kitten comes over to touch its nose to my kitten, Simon clears his throat.

“So, um, like she said, they’d probably be happy to have playdates or whatever. I mean, since we’re getting them. And since we keep running into each other. It might make sense to, you know, exchange numbers?”

“Yes!” I say, far too eagerly. “I mean, that seems reasonable. It would be more convenient than waiting to happen upon you in the Waitrose choosing inferior crisps to set up a future meeting.”

He smiles. “Well, yeah, there’s that. And this way, it’ll be easier for me to ask you out, ”

Then the absolute nightmare sits down beside me and hands me his phone. He texts me immediately once I enter my contact info.

Unknown Number (11:27 AM) This is Simon Snow

Unknown Number (11:27 AM) Your cat is cute.

Unknown Number (11:27 AM) So are you

Unknown Number (11:28 AM) Wanna get dinner sometime? ;)

I blush, and send him a reply.

Baz (11:29 AM) I thought you’d never ask.

[thecountoflondonfansite]

Dr. Two Brains let out a sigh. “Look, can we wait to inform Henry about this tomorrow. He’s had a long day and I want him to get a good night’s rest. One that doesn’t involve sleeping off tranquilizer darts.” The mad scientist requested. There was silence as Hugh seemed to ponder the question. After a few minutes Hugh gave a reply. “That would be perfectly fine. I understand Dr. Jekyll might not be emotionally well right now to handle such news. Especially since it involves his best friend. The others  have to go to work in the morning, but all of us can converge at your warehouse in the afternoon. We can tell Dr. Jekyll then.” Dr. Two Brains was happy with the suggestion. “So what about you?” He asked. “I’m going to take the day off. Alan and I will be spending time together so I can recover a bit from the ordeal and make sure Lucian doesn’t try anything at my workplace.” Hugh replied. “Yeah, that sounds like a good idea.” Two Brains remarked. He knew from Henry that “Hyde” was what the teacher repressed, made into physical form. The mad scientist wasn’t sure if Lucian would keep the same Hippocratic oath that Robert had taken when he became a medical doctor. It was better to be cautious with this situation. “Okay. I’ll invite Henry to come over tomorrow afternoon at my warehouse. We’ll talk with him then, but gently.” Two Brains reiterated. “Of course. See you soon, Two Brains.” Hugh then hung up the phone. Dr. Two Brains was about to do the same when his eyes gazed back at the unknown text. A part of him still didn’t want to click the link, fearing it was a virus. His scientist side was urging him to look out of learning and curiosity. “Well if it is a virus, I can always get a new phone.” The mad scientist told himself before he ultimately clicked on the link. Two Brains’ expression shifted from curiosity to horror as he scrolled through the file. There was picture upon picture of him devouring that man from before. Clear pictures of him drinking the man’s blood and biting on his flesh until all that was left was a mangled corpse. Those were pictures from the day Henry found out about his blood curse, the day when they both found out the other’s secret. ‘I thought I was alone in that alley! Who took those pictures?’ Two Brains panicked as his mind began racing, trying to find an answer for all of this. Deep down, he knew what this text was, blackmail. Someone saw his curse in action and took evidence of the event. Two Brains growled when he thought Cavlin or Athena was behind this but his theories made no sense. Athena was likely in the middle of stalking or kidnapping Amber when this event occurred. Also Calvin made no indication that he knew of Two Brains’ blood curse or he would have done something in advance to prevent any bodily injuries from happening to him or Athena. Dr. Two Brains’ hands shook as he held the phone and stared intently at the photos. Whoever sent them had not tried texting the mad scientist again. Two Brains figured this guy was patient which gave him some relief, though he knew blackmailers weren’t patient for long. He would have to call back soon or risk everyone and their mother finding out one of his family’s secrets which would not hurt only him but all his family and friends including his boyfriend just by association to him. The mad scientist let out another deep sigh as he tried to compose himself. He was relieved that whoever this person was didn’t have any blackmail on his daughter. With great reluctance, Two Brains called the mysterious number and placed the phone to his ears, letting it ring. Soon someone picked up. “Hello Dr. Two Brains. Are you alone now?” A person who clearly had their voice disguised asked. @unhingedexperimenter

Henry felt devastated for his oldest friend. "That's absolutely horrible. I can't possibly imagine what Robert is going through. Even though he had issues with his father, this would no doubt affect him greatly.” His heart ached for Robert. Having lost his father due to a murder. Who could've done that? Was it the same person who attempted to kill Mr. Danvers Carew with the fire which Hyde got framed for? “You said it seemed personal. Why do you say that, old friend?” The lawyer took a moment to answer. “The murder was grisly and there wasn't anything stolen from the crime scene. It sounded more than just a robbery gone wrong. If it was truly that, expensive items would've been missing yet it all remained. I'm honestly shocked that Robert never told you. You two were always so close. Practically inseparable from college.” Henry looked visibly uncomfortable and solemn due to what his friend had said. “Thank you for telling me this. I do hope Robert will tell me about this on his own time. I won't force him or rush him.” Gabriel nodded at that. “Are you going to tell him?” The teacher seemed hesitant to answer that. “I will, once he has his own problems sorted. I would rather not add onto his problems with my own.” While it was true, Henry also didn't want to make things more complicated for Robert. He knew that his best friend had HJ7 and possibly could have ingested it. Leading to his own soul being split. It would only stress him out which could lead to his possible version of Hyde to get better control over him. It would only serve as ammo Robert's counterpart could use against him. “That is quite understandable. You two have been through a lot. Also considering the incident with your former employee. Mr. Hyde. It's been so stressful for both of you.” Hyde felt nervous whenever Gabriel would mention him. It felt like he could so easily uncover who he truly was to Henry. It was why he never appeared around him either. It's not that they didn't trust him. Not at all. As crazy as Hyde thought he was, he didn't want to possibly lose a friend he technically never met. He actually liked Gabriel and knew that the lies Henry kept would hurt the man deeply. It was a shared fear between Henry and Edward. “Thank you for understanding that, Gabriel. Also thank you for helping me.” Gabriel offered him a warm smile. “Of course. I would do anything for my dearest friends.” It troubled Henry. Why didn't Robert say anything about his father? Yet again, Robert did keep it a secret that he had a vial of HJ7 too. Becky looked confused, she had known about the murder of Dr. Lanyons father before he did. She was sure he would've known. Before the young girl could think about it further, she heard a voice calling for her. It was her uncle's voice. She listened to him calling, luckily Gabriel was too occupied with Henry to notice that. She went over to her father and tugged at his sleeve. Making Dr.Two-Brains lean over so she could whisper into his ear. “Dad, Uncle Alan is calling me. It sounds really urgent, I'll be back as soon as possible.” The mad scientist seemed reluctant to let her leave but nodded. “Alright, please don't take too long. Be careful.” With that said, Becky left. The moment she was alone, checking to make sure it was safe, Becky transformed and flew straight to Alan's and Hugh's apartment. She wondered why he called for her instead of going there himself. It must've been something serious. When she arrived, Becky went to the apartment she knew they resided in. Giving the door a couple of knocks before it was answered by Alan. Behind him were the other three of the four. “Uncle Alan? What are the others doing here?” His expression remained stoic. “We wanted to tell you something. We need you to tell your dad to turn his phone on. We have urgent information to tell him. Something has happened. We need to tell him what as well as the information we gained from it.”

Becky looked alarmed at what her uncle had just said. "Does it have something to do with Dr. Barriton?" Becky inquired as she remembered her dad telling her about the blonde scientist. Becky never really met him since the guy was fired when she was a baby. Her dad did describe him as an absolute narcissus and prick who was Athena's cousin. Becky didn't hold it against anyone to be related to that psycho woman since her twin brother Eris was a good person. She held the man's character and lack of morals against him. Alan shook his head. "No, it wasn't Calvin. Have you heard any of the adults speak of a Lucian Bennett?" Alan asked his niece. Becky pondered the question a bit and shook her head. "Not really, no." She answered. "Who is he?" The four looked at each other, not really sure how to explain. Hugh decided to speak about the man and his encounter to a degree. "We are not entirely sure who Lucian is as a person, but we know he is like Edward Hyde. By that, I mean he is the counterpart of someone who took the HJ7 formula." Becky's eyes widened at Hugh's explanation. There was someone out there who had their own Mr. Hyde! "Does Dr. Jekyll know about Lucian?" Becky asked in an urgent tone. The others gave a nod. "Yeah, he is aware of Lucian. He is also aware of the man having his own variation of the HJ7 formula though he isn't entirely sure how it is possible." Jenkins explained. "Listen, Becky. We really need to get in touch with your dad. It's difficult to explain but Lucian had nearly gotten physical with Hugh. We need to tell your dad what we know and what happened. Alan couldn't fly to Henry's house since it would have caused some alarm and we know the others are still recovering from Athena's attack. That is why he contacted you." Patricia explained in a serious tone. Becky nodded as she understood the gravity of the situation. "Okay, I'll get my dad." The heroine then took off back to Dr. Jekyll's apartment. "Where did your daughter run off too?" Gabriel asked. "Oh, she remembered she had to go outside and call her uncle Alan and let him know she couldn't spend the night at his and Hugh's home this Friday since personal things came up." Dr Two Brains quickly explained. Utterson looked surprised at the response. "She had to take her phone call outside." The lawyer exclaimed with a slightly suspicious tone. Two Brains internally panicked. 'Why can't this guy be as dumb as the rest of the civilians in this city.' "Oh well it was special bonding family thing they had this weekend though Becky is no longer feeling up to it. She and her uncle Alan have unique traditions that are not meant for other ears to hear. It shouldn't take to long for Becky to speak with Alan." Two Brains exclaimed. Henry seemed to catch onto the hidden meaning of his boyfriends' words and decided to help cover for him. "It's a strange but endearing characteristic that my boyfriend's family has. They like to keep their personal businesses private, even if it is just regular, family matters." Henry added. Gabriel looked a bit confused but quickly shook it off for now. "If you say so, Henry." He then turned to Dr. Two Brains. "So your brother is dating Dr. Mann?" Gabriel asked Two Brains shook his head. "No, Alan is dating Hugh, but he isn't my brother. He is technically my brother-in-law. He is Becky's mom's sibling." The mad scientist corrected. In what seemed to be a short amount of time, Becky returned inside. "Hey, kiddo. How did your talk with Uncle Alan go on the phone?" Dr. Two Brains inquired. Becky greeted her dad with a smile but Two Brains and Henry could tell that it was faked. "It went well, but he wanted me to let you know to turn on your phone. Hugh and the other four have been trying to reach you and see how you were doing." Becky respond. Two Brains looked embarrassed and quickly pulled out his phone to turn it on. His eyes widened as he saw the missed calls. "Oops. Sorry. I turned my phone off because I was having a conversation with Henry and didn't want to be disturbed." Two Brains exclaimed. @unhingedexperimenter

[fruitz]

greetings, boner killers. i see i’ve caused quite the commotion as of my last ramblings. i’m pleased to have had an impact. you may be surprised i wasn’t here to bask in the glory of my successes: the live readings, the begging for markhyuck and chanbaek renditions, the... friendship requests? i saw all of it, and, i couldnt give a rat’s ass. in fact, i want nothing to do with you squealing, horny mouth breathers. so why am i back, you ask?  this spine-chilling, retina melting image right here:

i have not slept. it was august 2, 2020. i remember it all so vividly. four men smiling at me, but something is terribly off. the hair on my arms rose to new heights. my throat began to itch. my ben wa balls even rattled a bit with... excitement? fear? arousal? let’s pop open the hood and give her a look. is it jaehyun? other the the fact he looks a bit more like the mask from courage the cowardly dog than usual, everything seems to be running smoothly. winwin... oh winwin. what have they done to you. my boy. his sweet face is slowly starting to show the signs of early onset “living with queer eye and their cats” syndrome... nothing out of the ordinary here. i’m almost terrified to shift my eyes to this individual. just the sight of his face fills my body with such a pure unbridled rage, i can’t help but anticipate that its his doing, you know, my aforementioned intense nausea stirred by this image. but alas! 10 is looking nothing short of his usual kurt hummel. fantastic. i see lucas and think to myself “beautiful boy. you’ll never wrong me” and move on. so what it is it? what is it about this john hughes movie cover (1) that makes me want to reenact the human centipede with jimmy carter and rap monster than to ever see it again? 1: look up pretty in pink, gestational sacs. ten is molly ringwald btw. the answer dons on me somewhere between jimmy carter and rap monster: qian kun. it’s always qian fucking kun. hey hey hey wait user sorryjohnny! didn’t you bring qian kun into your last essay for no reason too?! and that’s where you’re wrong, my sweets. it’s not for no reason. today, it’s ALL about qian kun. 

where the FUCK did things go wrong?  black on black promotions. before the eternal jaekun beef had been initiated. before the jung jaehyun as we knew and loved was snatched from us in the night right before our very own virgin eyes. following the new surge of interest in the haphazardly thrown together sad excuse of a collaboration era we refer to as “NCT 2018,” SM decided it was high time to reward their “underdog” boy group (funded by a $44 million company). after spending thousands on ten’s nose & yuta’s multiple chin surgeries, SM was honestly running out of members to senselessly inject w/ polymethylmethacrylate. all that was left was the harrowing sounds of kun and jaehyun going at each other’s throats like two feral wildebeests. would lee sooman decide to spend his remaining NCT budget on jaehyun’s facial reconstruction surgery or kun’s gastric sleeve? (my vote is neither, blow the cash on strippers for him and that old haggard choi siwon. who still wants to have sex with him, really?) 

  you decide, reader. and that was the day jaehyun and kun fell apart. he walked into SM headquarters with that perfectly sculpted nose. a jawline touched by a million fat little cherubs. and is that.... cheekbone filler? i was there, and, i shit you not, kun flipped a folding table of hors d'oeuvres on top of little trainee liu yangyang. august 2, 2020. a day i detest. a day kun dreaded for weeks. inkigayo. jaehyun. gastric sleeve. weight watchers. oprah winfrey. YOU GET A CAR! jawline surgery. yangyang. 찢겨진 데시빌 on the 32nd beat 한계 없는 gain my mix straight bang like.... the words rang through kun’s dementia ridden mind. inkigayo. jaehyun. gastric sleeve. weight watchers. oprah winfrey. YOU GET A CAR! jawline surgery. yangyang. (you see, you can slowly start to picture this to the tune of chicago’s (2002) “cell block tango” do it with me it’s fun)  inkigayo jaehyun gastric sleeve weight watchers oprah winfrey YOU GET A CAR jawline surgery yangyang jaehyun ten.... ten? lucas?????? winwin???? kun is brought down from the astral plane of trauma by jaehyun’s cheshire cat-like grin, he undeniably got his veneers whitened and polished with leftover superm money.  baekhyun and taemin’s pussy secretions smeared the floor of ellen degenerate’s GOP funded stage just to pay for a walking mannequin’s dentures. all kun wanted was to lose 5 pounds.  yangyang, having sustained the injuries of pre-therapy KUN ANGRY KUN SMASH, noticed kun’s descent into madness as they watched their group members smile ear to ear next to korea’s jesse eisenberg. scanning the room for any nearby folding tables, yangyang pat kun on the back.  “i’m sorry, qian kun.” said yangyang. but not me. i’m not sorry. i’m not sorry for jaehyun, either. i don’t know who i’m sorry for. me, i guess.                   ��

[styledeepdive]

The Body Types of Men

Hi there! Welcome to my Men’s Style Guide. Settle in, because we are about to take a long, hard look at the different body types of men, and what looks best on different types of guys. I do style reports primarily based on a system of body typing invented by a dude named David Kibbe so we call it the Kibbe system. The idea is that there are 5 main body types that are based on bone structure. The types are Dramatic (tall and narrow), Natural (tall and broad), Classic (a symmetrical blending of all the types), Romantic (small, rounded, and slightly wide), and Gamin (a chaotic mixture primarily of dramatic and romantic, typically quite small).    In this system we also talk about yin (rounded, soft, “feminine” features) and yang (prominent, sharp features, steep angles, and vertical lines).  Clothing recommendations are based on how much yin/yang mixture you have in your own body. No type is “better” than any other type, and your type does not change with age or weight. The following is MY INTERPRETATION of the body types. Some of these men are verified types by David Kibbe, some are simply my best guesses. My styling tips are based off of my own observations as well as information gleaned off of chatrooms and forums that discuss Kibbe body typing. This is not, in any way, an official Kibbe typing, just my opinions. There is not a lot of verified information on the body types of men, so I’m doing my best with what I got.   (From left to right, Dramatic, Natural, Classic, Romantic, and Gamin)

So, let’s explore the main types a little further.

DRAMATICS   Dramatic men are tall and long, with an extremely sharp bone structure, and very straight, narrow, facial features. They have an overall combination of strong, sharp physicality, a cool reserve, and a charismatic power. They are the most sharp + angular of all the types. As actors, dramatic men are often cast as the evil genius or the aloof, brooding hero.  Sometimes both!  Benedict Cumberbatch, Christopher Walken, Daniel Craig, and Mads Mikkelsen are Dramatics.   

  The thing that most people first notice about dramatics is how visually striking they are. They can appear almost “brutal” to the eye. They have long vertical lines, with long arms and legs, and long faces, often with narrow eyes, prominent noses, and/or thin lips. They faces can appear quite chiseled to the eye, as their bone structure is sharp and protruding. They often have chiseled features, high prominent cheekbones, and overall read as lean, even when they gain some fat or put on some muscle. They are usually quite tall, at least 6 feet.  Dramatic men look their best in stiff fabrics with clean, long lines of color.  Large lapels and high, stiff necklines look great on them.  Often these lines are used to further highlight their prominent cheekbones.  Their hair looks good slicked back and bold, or sculpted in geometrically in some way. Monochromatic outfits look incredibly chic on them.  Long stiff coats look amazing on them. Minimalist outfits look best on them.  Go for bold, clean, and sleek lines.  This includes the face: seems like clean shaven is more flattering than facial hair, generally.

When they are photographed, they are typically posed in a stern manner, not smiling. Usually their cheekbones are highlighted by a steep, straight angle near the face.  Often they are shot in black and white to maximize their contrast and natural contours. On other body types this severe style can look a little silly, but on dramatics it looks just right. 

Dramatic men look a little weird in overly soft looks, drapey looks, beachy looks, boho looks, or any fabric that isn’t stiff enough to compliment their structured body. Avoid bisecting the body in half with a color block. Avoid sloppy untucked looks. Avoid colorful, contrasting details near the face.  Avoid overly colorful prints and busy patterns in general. Avoid also overly slim, hipster-cut looks, you need a little room in your clothes to look your best.

 To look your most memorable, create long, unbroken lines of color as much as possible.  

A boxy wool trench coat with a stiff collar would also look amazing on any Dramatic, and could be your signature piece. Go for it.

 Soft Dramatics Soft Dramatics are exactly what they sound like: a person who has a tall, angular dramatic skeleton but with more flesh on their bones, so giving an overall softer appearance to the body. They can be a bit wider than true Dramatics, as well.  Matthew McConaughey, RuPaul, John Travolta, Christian Bale, Nicholas Cage, Alan Rickman, and MTT are Soft Dramatics.

Because they by definition they are a tall or tall-appearing type, they look great in monochromatic looks as well, but with a softer, more luscious, shinier fabric in the sleeves, neckline, or otherwise accenting the look to soften it.  Here you can really see the long vertical line still present in the bodies, but you can also see an overall softer appearance to the body, especially in the face - fleshier cheeks, larger eyes, fuller lips - and typically styling themselves with a softer, more rounded outline.

In this photo I hope you can see how much softer and fleshier the face appears to us than it does on pure Dramatics, whose skin is much tighter over the bones.  This is not a weight thing, all of these men are quite lean - this is just a way that the flesh forms over the bones.   Still, at the end of these day these men have dramatic skeletons, with prominent noses, jaws, and brows, and long arms and legs - and that’s important to remember when trying to identify them.

Soft Dramatics can dress in Dramatic lines, but also want to acknowledge their extra yin (rounded, soft features) by adding in some softer, rounder lines to their clothes and hair.    One way to do this is by using fun rounded accessories, like oversized glasses or big bow ties, scarfs or even ascots. Now - I’m not entirely sure if Ru Paul is soft dramatic or dramatic, but this picture of him, where he’s posing with himself in drag, is one of my favorites, because you can see how Kibbe’s soft dramatic style suggestions work regardless of gender presentation - Here Ru is showcasing long lines of color but with added, rounded elements (hair, glasses, scarves, neckline, even the curve of his bald head) in both outfits.

One thing I noticed about soft dramatics is that they can really pull off the sweater-underneath-a-jacket look.  This makes sense: stiff and structured shape of the blazer plus the softer, more rounded shape of the hoodie around the face is a nice compliment to the yin/yang balance.  

I also found that cowboy hats looked pretty good on Soft Dramatic actors, as it’s stiff and bold enough for them but also rounded.  I thought that was interesting.

Yup, it checks out for Ru too! Not his most memorable look for sure, but wouldn’t you agree he pulls it off surprisingly well?

And in conclusion, here’s a few more of MTT looking dramatic and soft at the same time, perfectly illustrating this body type (check out those glasses!). Thanks, buddy.

NATURALS Naturals are characterized  by broad shoulders and a muscular body type, with an angular but broad bone structure, and wide facial features that tend to be blunt edged. They are a naturally athletic body type that often looks pretty strong, muscular and slightly wide, even when overweight.  They have a casual physicality, and a fresh and open essence. They can be moderate in height to very tall.  

  Natural Men look good in natural fabrics, casual outlines, matte sheens, and need a bit of space around the neckline. A typical uniform for a natural man is a v-neck t-shirt and tapered jeans.  Denim + suede jackets look great on them.    Button down shirts should have one or two buttons undone (at least) to look best.   

Naturals are split into two groups - Flamboyant Naturals and Soft Naturals. Flamboyant Naturals Flamboyant Naturals are usually on the taller side, with a bit more angularity than soft naturals. They may have a sharp nose or chiseled jaw, or longer arms and legs. They are very wide through the chest the torso; they are what we often refer to as “barrel-chested.” Because of their extra yang, Flamboyant Naturals can pull off more dramatic lines than soft naturals, but they both still look their best in a more relaxed, casual style.  Flamboyant Naturals are typically quite athletic, and it doesn’t take much for them to gain quite a bit of mass.  Even though Flamboyant Naturals can look great in suits, they just look the most themselves, their most charismatic when they’re a little bit scruffy. Here’s Harrison Ford in various states of unzipped-ness, for your consideration.  Give the people what they want, Harrison! These men, when actors, are cast as superheros. Chris Hemsworth,  Winston Duke, and Hugh Jackman are all Flamboyant Naturals (although only one, Hugh Jackman, is verified by David Kibbe).  Here they are in their “natural” state (har har).

And here they are doing that whole adventurer thing that looks so good on them:

And here they are a bit more cleaned up:

Even though Flamboyant Naturals can look great in suits, they just look the most themselves, their most charismatic when they’re a little bit scruffy. Here’s Harrison Ford in various states of unzipped-ness, for your consideration.  Give the people what they want, Harrison! 

  Because of their extra yang, Flamboyant Naturals can pull off come crisp, tapered lines.  Matte finishes are still best. A slim-fitting, tapered silhouette on Harrison Ford looks really nice here.

Soft Naturals Soft Naturals are a little softer in flesh, a little smaller in build, and a little “cuter” than Flamboyant Naturals. They really look their best in matte fabrics and with a significant amount of room at the neckline. Loosely tucked in shirts look nice. Fabrics like suede and cotton look great. These men, when actors, are often cast as the rough-and-tumble, lovable but slightly scruffy hero. Brad Pitt, Naveen Andrews, Tom Cruise, and George Clooney are all Soft Naturals.  

Soft naturals look so good with loose, rounded draping that photographers will literally pose them in bathrobes, or with water splashed on them. They’re the only type i found with professional photos like these! I think you can see even here that the more relaxed, the more tousled the look is, the more correct it looks and feels.  A little bit of drape goes a long way.   Always give your head and neck a little room to breathe. Rounded collars or soft v-necks with a little bit an undone feel to them look fantastic on you.  

Matte fabrics like suede look better than shiny, reflective fabrics like smooth leather on all Natural types.  

I think that’s because Soft Naturals read as “earthy,” and we want to see them in down to earth fabrics and colors.  Tom Cruise and Naveen Andrews both demonstrate great soft natural looks here. 

Another consistent trait of soft natural is that loose and draped looks better than high and stiff around the face and neck.  If this is consistently true for you, then that’s a decent clue that you may be a soft natural.  Or if you like to take your shirt off as often as possible.  That’s also a clue.

All Natural men look great with some pigment in their skin (a tan), some facial hair,  and a scruffy, undone look to the hair.  Anything too sculpted will seem stuffy on them. They are most often posed in motion, or in a way that looks candid, because otherwise they can look a bit stiff. CLASSICS Classics are balanced between the extremes of Yin and Yang. They are characterized by a symmetrical body type, with a tapered, even bone structure, and very regular, evenly spaced facial features. They are often photographed highlighting their cool, reserved essence. Pure Classics are pretty rare, they usually still have a slight undercurrent of either yin or yang.  John Slattery (below, left) is a Soft Classic. He is primarily balanced but with a yin undercurrent. You can see he is slightly softer, more tapered, more rounded, and more delicate than John Hamm (below, right) who is a Dramatic Classic, and has a bolder, more yang undercurrent.  Overall, however, both men read as moderate and symmetrical overall. 

Mad men is a fun show to watch for men’s fashion because they cast a bunch of classic actors and then put them in a bunch of classic suits, at least in the beginning.  John Hamm and John Slattery wore the classic suits in Mad Men so well that they literally revived the grey suit in the mid 2010s (the sale of suits doubled between 1998 - 2014, in part due to the show).  I love Mad Men for many reasons, but one of my favorite things they did was show, not tell, how Roger Sterling and Don Draper fit into their era (and then were subsequently left behind) simply through the lines of their clothes.

Classics are easily overwhelmed by bold colors and patterns, or asymmetrical details.  We can see here how unnatural John Slattery looks in this outfit on the right, and how balanced he looks in clean, simple lines on the left.  It’s clear simply through the lines of his clothes that  by the end of the show Roger Sterling (John Slattery) no longer dominates the world around him, and feels unnatural and awkward in it.

In real life John Hamm often tries to experiment with a more whimsical style than what his dramatic classic lines suggest he should wear.   I think the effect is that his specialness is lost, and he looks pretty unremarkable/overwhelmed in many of his chosen looks.  You can really see here that it is so easy to overwhelm his face and body unless he is in the simplest, crispiest of designs!!

I’d venture a guess that Daniel Dae Kim is a Dramatic Classic as well. He definitely has some Drama to his face, but I’d argue his whole body reads as overall moderate.  He is dignified and stoic looking in a similar manner as John Ham, and he looks fantastic in simple, clean designs. 

Idris Elba is another strongly Classic man, possibly a Pure Classic.  I believe Idris Elba was voted “sexiest man alive” at some point, and it’s not hard to see why. This is a man who looks equally at home on the red carpet or in jeans and a t-shirt.

I mean, my God.  So elegant.  So stylish.  So chic! 

But something funny happens if we try to mess with Idris Elba’s timeless look.  First of all, any attempt to overtly sexualize him backfires spectacularly.  The photos below look awkward and even a little vulgar. I mean, what even is this? 

Here Idris is actually demonstrating a reverse-Harrison Ford:  Even though Idris is beautifully sculpted by the gym and by God, he really looks his personal best when he’s buttoned back up and in simple, clean clothes. 

Similarly, an overly soft or whimsical look on Idris is certainly not his most memorable look, and I’d argue looks a little awkward on him.

The lesson here is that to look their best, Classics need to stick to simple cuts, minimal detail, clean lines, and one or two colors per outfit.  When they do that, they will come off as being effortlessly elegant and chic, and all eyes in the room will be on them.  If you’re a classic: stick to basics! ROMANTICS Ah! Romantic Men.  A misunderstood type, with many stereotypes that we will work to dispel. Romantic men are moderate to small, with a soft physicality and a magnetic essence.  Their bone structure is delicate and smallish with a tendency towards wideness. Their facial bones are small and delicate, and their facial features can be lush, full, and sensual.  I think, because of our gender-normative culture, that some men might resist being typed as a romantic. But they shouldn’t!! Romantic men are absolutely glorious.

Romantic men look best when they wrap themselves in softer, lush, fuzzy fabrics.  They look amazing in scarves, sweaters, lightweight to medium weight jackets, and with longer, rounded hair cuts.  Despite what many might assume, this is what highlights their male energy the most!   Kit Harrington is a really great example of this.  He looks best wrapped in furs and with long curly hair, and every time he or his stylist try to “man-up” his look (pictured below), it can get a little awkward.

To me, these looks end up accomplishing the opposite of what is intended: Kit looks alternately a bit stuffed, a bit gawky, and a bit tiny all at the same time.  However, as soon as we put him in his lines, his male energy becomes absolutely breathtaking: 

One quick way to help identify a romantic man is to see how good he looks in a scarf.  Not many men look good with soft draping next to their face, but Romantics always do, the more plush the better.  

Steven Yuen is not a verified Romantic by Kibbe but I really think he fits the bill.  He has a short veritcal line, is slightly wide, with rounded eyes, a wider nose, a soft mouth, a tapered jaw, and looks best in big sweaters and wooly fabrics.  

Leonardo DiCaprio is the quintessential Romantic man who battles against his nature. In his quest to be taken more seriously as an actor he tried his best to shed his “pretty-boy” image and look as sleek and sculpted and brutal as possible.  Ironically, he looks his most dynamic doing exactly the opposite.

Leo so hates wearing anything even suggesting Romantic these days it was a struggle to find a picture of him wearing a scarf when i did the collage of romantics in scarves. However, I found this incredible photograph that Annie Liebowitz took of Leo where she knew to drape him in something soft to actually help bring out his male energy.  The combination of soft and brutal in this photo is absolutely breathtaking, and so, so memorable.  Leo has not looked “memorable” for about 25 years, in my opinion, because he has refused to allow himself to be photographed or filmed in a vulnerable, soft way for decades. Ok… that’s not entirely fair. The closest he has came to nailing his lines in any movie since Titanic was actually the Revenant, because at least he had long hair and they draped him in fur.  Mere coincidence that he was finally memorable enough in the judge’s minds to win the Oscar?? :P

Theatrical Romantic If a Romantic has some dramatic influence to them and has some sharper bones and a thinner silhouette, then they are called Theatrical Romantic. They are primarily soft, like Romantics, but with a narrower silhouette and some sharper bones.  They can wear sharper lines to go with their dramatic influence, but should remember to keep fabrics loose and soft. Orlando Bloom, Prince, Kurt Cobain and Johnny Depp are Theatrical Romantics.

Theatrical Romantic men can wear all manner of ornamentation and look great. Rings, necklaces, hats, boas, big round sunglasses, flowers, polka-dots, etc. Hair looks great when it’s long and maybe a bit straighter than Romantics would style it (but still reading as flowy). They can really have fun with eclectic looks, bo-ho looks, or glam looks.  And they really do look their personal best when they do this. 

Casual looks are elevated by adding jewelry, tattoos, bandanas, and by using lightweight t-shirts that have some cling but also some drape.

Johnny Depp really knows how to pull off posing with a rug. Imagine Idris Elba or Harrison Ford trying to do that.

Here’s an idea: learn to play guitar just so you can use it as an aesthetic accessory! Just kidding.  

But it does seem like an awful lot of iconic musicians are theatrical romantics. Prince sure figured out how to make it work for him.

And Kurt Cobain!  People forget, but Kurt Cobain was of moderate height and had a very delicate, soft bone structure.  Look at his face. Look at how beautiful, how feminine, and how soft the facial features are.  Notice also, though, how sharp some of the facial bones are: like the chin, the thin nose, and the jaw line. 

Kurt Cobain was the anti-fashion style icon whose signature look shaped an entire generation’s aesthetic. The Kurt Cobain look still haunts all manner of musician to this day! And no one was more freaked-out by this than Kurt himself, who would tell reporters over and over again that this was just how he dressed. He would tell people his jeans had holes in them because buying new ones seemed like a waist of money.  He got his sweaters from thrift stores with rips in them because he didn’t give a fuck.  His hair was long because he was too lazy to cut it.  WHY THE FUCK WAS EVERYONE TRYING TO COPY HIM? 

Who knows how true this really is, but I will say that by around 1994 it does seem like Kurt Cobain was deliberately trying to troll the fashion editors who wrote about him by slapping on the most aggressively ugly, often feminine clothes he could find and daring people to copy him.

The ironic thing is that by adding mix and match soft eclectic accessories all over his body, Kurt was actually just making himself look better and better. That’s the weird magic of the theatrical romantic body type.  And when that accidental ornateness was met with a bit more openness and vulnerability in his face, the effect was that he looked incredibly himself, incredibly memorable, and frankly timeless.

Gamin We come now to Gamin men, who are characterized by their combination of opposites. Their yin is in their size and facial features, and they can read as small and boyish. Their yang is in their body type and bone structure. They are an overall combination of opposites on the yin and yang scale; sharply delicate physicality along with a fresh and zesty essence.  

For some people it can be a little hard to tell gamins and theatrical romantics apart at first just by the body typing. But the lines don’t lie: if you look best in high necklines, crisp patterns, contrasted colors, and extremely precision fitted silhouettes then you are a gamin!   Gamins really do have a youthful, playful energy that translates into photographs. It’s best if they are photographed in motion, but if not in motion then at least laughing or glaring or doing something energetic.   When there is a mischevious look in their eyes their whole face lights up and feels correct. There are two sub categories of gamins: soft gamins and flamboyant gamins. 

Soft Gamins

Soft Gamins read as small, thin, boyish, and yet still with an undercurrent of soft and rounded. They can have softer facial features, softer flesh, shorter arms and legs, rounder eyes, softer lips.  Fred Astaire is Kibbe’s only verified soft gamin but I think Bruno Mars and maybe Daniel Radcliffe fit the bill.

If you are a soft gamin, precision fitted clothing with high necklines and colorful, contrasting patterns is the name of the game.  Skinny, cropped pants look fantastic. Tight fitting polo shirts look fantastic.  Thin ties with fun patterns look fantastic. Pocket squares and other fun accessories look great as long as it looks crisp and fresh. Hair looks best when it’s slightly tousled and playful looking. 

Gamins run into trouble when they try to be too rugged, oversized, or casually dressed. It’s simply not their best look, and baggy clothes will actually highlight their smallness, creating the opposite of what i imagine would be the intended effect.

When dressing for events, go for as precision fitted as possible. This is not an exaggeration.  This is the silhouette that will allow you to shine in a room full of other people.  It will look crisp and correct on you, and everything else will dull your shine.

Flamboyant Gamin

Flamboyant Gamins are similar to Soft Gamins but with a slightly more angular build. They can have longer arms and legs, more squarish jaw, more prominent noses.   They still need crisp, sharp outlines to look fresh, but have a little more wiggle room to play with bolder shapes and different fabrics.  Bold prints look amazing on them, high contrast looks are incredibly chic on them. Rami Malek, Frank Sinatra, and Neil Patrick Harris are flamboyant gamines. 

Things like zebra print, pointy shoes, and super high crisp collars look amazing on Flamboyant Gamins. They get into trouble again when they try to go for a sporty or overly casual look.  

Like soft gamins, keep event-wear fitted, but also go for bold, crisp geometrics when possible.  Stiff bow ties and long thin ties look equally wonderful.

Conclusion + Sources + Resources Whether you’re a dude who’s trying to figure out your style, a partner of a dude who’s trying to help, or someone who’s just starting to experiment with menswear for any reason, I hope you’ve found this post helpful.  Please let me know what type you think you are in the comments!   When researching for this post I found the following websites + youtube videos to be incredibly helpful:

Aly Art’s video “Do Men Have Body Types?” https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6yHTkciJGLg The Sacred in the Secular: Men’s Kibbe Types https://charitysplace.wordpress.com/2019/06/26/male-kibbe-types/ Truth is Beauty: Some Thoughts on the Style Types of Male Celebs https://www.truth-is-beauty.com/blog/some-thoughts-on-the-style-types-of-male-celebs On the Enduring Influence of Mad Men Style: https://therake.com/stories/style/enduring-influence-mad-men-style/ -

[warehouse13pod]

Show Notes 108A Duped - Part 1

Down the rabbit hole we go, Agents!

Here they are! At long, long last—the show notes for 108 “Duped!”

These notes cover 108 “Duped” Part 1.

You can listen to it in this embedded player:

Or on Youtube:

Let’s jump right in! 

Miranda and I started this episode with some fun facts about ourselves. Mine was that I once got a pillow from Sargento that said “Sweet dreams are made of cheese,” because I complimented it online.

First of all, here’s the song it references.

Now, here are the tweets of how it happened. Here’s the Tweet I saw from Warehouse 13 co-creator and legendary TV writer/producer, Jane Espenson and the conversation that followed:

And at this very moment, that pillow is serving as a laptop cushion.

Now, onto the show.

This week’s writer appreciation focused on another writing team, Benjamin Raab and Deric A. Hughes who shared some awesome behind-the-scenes pix with us on twitter! After we released the episode, Ben tweeted at us and told us the crew let Ben and Deric cameo on every episode they wrote/produced. Here’s the pic from “Duped!” They were on the elevator with Pete!

We got that tweet and some good corrections and fun facts from Ben and Deric themselves! What up, dudes‽

Miranda says that we start the episode “en media res” which means “in the middle of things” in Latin. Here’s a link to what it means in terms of narrative storytelling.

Later, we also compared Myka’s dress in the pilot…

…to her dress in Duped.

Great work by the costuming/hair/makeup team on emphasizing all the subtle ways that Myka was Not Normal™

Because we love to give due credit, so, the people responsible are

Costuming: Joanne Hanson

Hair: Susan Exton-Stranks

Makeup: Marie Nardella

We also have a good laugh talking about how Pete miscategorizes Alice in Wonderland as Chick Lit.

Alice in Wonderland is obviously not Chick Lit (although there’s nothing wrong with Chick Lit).

This led us to a brief discussion of how Miranda’s sister trolls her by calling “Doctor Who” Mister Who. That already wasn’t accurate, but now it’s especially inaccurate as The Doctor is a woman! As a side note, I personally would buy a T-Shirt that said “Mister Who” on it just to make a laugh. Anyone else? Anyone?

Next up, Miranda noticed that Pete was wearing a North Canton, Ohio t-shirt and connected the dots that Eddie McClintock himself is from North Canton. Further proof that Eddie and Pete are essentially the same person.

Speaking of Eddie, this is also the episode where we learned that Eddie was voted the 82nd Sexiest Man Alive, according to TVBuddy. Alas, alack, the link to the list is now dead. So I can’t link it. I tried.

Next, we talked about how amazing Eddie is at doing an impersonation of Myka sticking her neck out when she’s mad.

In the Warehouse, an artifactified disco ball plays Gloria Gaynor’s “I Will Survive.”

Here’s that song:

When Act II starts we get some really orange lighting that plays right into our color theory. I couldn’t find a picture of that scene and Amazon won’t let me screenshot, but, in general, most cinematography of Myka in this episode is very orange. Here are a couple examples of how orange most things are that involve Alice in this episode:

Then we talked about how weird it was when Myka actually took one of Artie’s pastries.

Actual footage of my face when she took one:

Actual footage of my face when she took SECONDS:

Then we got the introduction of Gary and Jillian Whitman—this week’s red herring bad guys and focus of this week’s dual Actor’s Spotlight, courtesy of Miranda.

Gary was played by Niall Matter.

Miranda recommended watching the TV show he was on called The Best Years.

Jillian (my name-thief) was played by Erica Cerra.

Miranda noticed a subtle Walt Whitman reference and gave the dates of his life and Lewis Carroll’s/Charles Dodgson’s life.

Walt Whitman: 1819 - 1892

Lewis Carroll/Charles Dodgson: 1832 - 1898

There will be a lot more information about Lewis Carroll/Charles Dodgson in the show notes for Part 2 of this episode.

Then we talked about how Artie was a tad too aggressive in telling Claudia to “back off!” and how this all reminded us of a scene in The Importance of Being Earnest where two characters grumpily eat cakes. Miranda later specified that it reminded her of the scene where Jack and Algernon eat muffins. Meanwhile, it reminded me of the scene where Gwendolen and Cecily get passive-aggressive over whether tea should be enjoyed with bread and butter or with cake.

Here’s a snippet of the scene Miranda was thinking of:

 Algernon.  If it was my business, I wouldn’t talk about it.  [Begins to eat muffins.]  It is very vulgar to talk about one’s business.  Only people like stock-brokers do that, and then merely at dinner parties.

Jack.  How can you sit there, calmly eating muffins when we are in this horrible trouble, I can’t make out.  You seem to me to be perfectly heartless.

Algernon.  Well, I can’t eat muffins in an agitated manner.  The butter would probably get on my cuffs.  One should always eat muffins quite calmly.  It is the only way to eat them.

Jack.  I say it’s perfectly heartless your eating muffins at all, under the circumstances.

Here’s a snippet of the scene I was thinking of:

Cecily.  May I offer you some tea, Miss Fairfax?

Gwendolen.  [With elaborate politeness.]  Thank you.  [Aside.]  Detestable girl!  But I require tea!

Cecily.  [Sweetly.]  Sugar?

Gwendolen.  [Superciliously.]  No, thank you.  Sugar is not fashionable any more. [Cecily looks angrily at her, takes up the tongs and puts four lumps of sugar into the cup.]

Cecily.  [Severely.]  Cake or bread and butter?

Gwendolen.  [In a bored manner.]  Bread and butter, please.  Cake is rarely seen at the best houses nowadays.

Cecily.  [Cuts a very large slice of cake, and puts it on the tray.]  Hand that to Miss Fairfax.

[Merriman does so, and goes out with footman.  Gwendolen drinks the tea and makes a grimace.  Puts down cup at once, reaches out her hand to the bread and butter, looks at it, and finds it is cake.  Rises in indignation.]

Gwendolen.  You have filled my tea with lumps of sugar, and though I asked most distinctly for bread and butter, you have given me cake.  I am known for the gentleness of my disposition, and the extraordinary sweetness of my nature, but I warn you, Miss Cardew, you may go too far. 

Both of those scenes take place in Act II.

If you read nothing else in these show notes STOP AND WATCH THE FOLLOWING CLIP!

Here’s a clip from an early movie adaptation of The Importance of Being Earnest that features my favorite line delivery of anything ever:

Good luck ever looking at a handbag without thinking of that again.

While we’re on the subject, I played Cecily in the Importance of Being Earnest, so I’m legally obligated to share a couple photos of that as proof:

As a final note on the matter, you can read the entire play from project Gutenberg here (and I recommend that you do, because it’s one of my all-time faves.).

Later, Miranda and I wondered if the infinity tattoo on Myka’s ankle was Joanne Kelly’s or was something Alice did when they got to Vegas. I think someone tweeted at us about this awhile ago. If anyone has that info, I’ll update the show notes with that and credit to the Tweeter.

After that, we discussed Myka’s/Alice’s casual mention of Carson’s Rule of Linear Transfer and her assertion that it means “forced outcomes require tangency.” I posited that this rule is not a mathematic or scientific principle but rather a warehouse-specific rule. The only Carson’s Rule that Miranda and I could find when researching this was an unrelated rule about bandwidth. If you’re super into telecommunications, you can read more about Carson’s Banwidth Rule here.

Backing up a little bit in the episode, we discussed a little bit about the history of disco and disco clubs via exerpts from a written interview with Professor Carol Cooper.

She spoke with us about Studio 54, Vaughn Harper, and the roots of a Studio 54 laying in a black-owned club called Leviticus.

I didn’t mention it in the episode, but that makes the club in Empire (also named Leviticus) a truly nicely named homage to history. Bustle.com did a deep dive on that fact here.

Relatedly, when the disco ball drops earlier in the warehouse, Claudia does her own take on the Saturday Night Fever dance…

…then devastates Artie by incorrectly dating the Disco Era. Find approximate dates and more info here.

Then Miranda compared Deanna Troi from Star Trek: The Next Generation and Tara Maclay from Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

First of all, the episode of Buffy that we referenced was Season 4, Episode 16 “Who Are You?”

Second of all, we made a Buffy reference, so… You know… Take a shot.

Then we talked about Myka’s reaction to Pete referencing a rabbit’s foot as a lucky charm.

That was both a great reference to the white rabbit in Alice in Wonderland…

…and a great reference to keychains from the 1990s and early 2000s. For those who don’t understand that reference, I was gonna link to some funny pictures from that era, but googling “rabbit’s foot” actually led me to down a sad path, so… like.. Not gonna share that.

Then we talked about how Pete saying “Kirk out

…was an improvised line that referenced Captain James T. Kirk on Star Trek: The Original Series and the communicators they used as well as to the flip phones from the era just before warehouse 13 premiered.

Then, both Ben Raab and Eddie McClintock explained that the reaction on set to Eddie saying “Kirk out!” looked something like this…

…until the network gave them the all-clear.

Winding things down for this episode, Miranda and I figured out what a Roulette table looked like:

…and appreciated Claudia’s knowledge of CIA laser mics. Turns out, laser microphones are really a thing!

Finally, for this week’s

~HEAVY THEMES~

…we talked about how off-putting Miranda and I found it when Alice (as Myka) drank both on the job and in front of Pete.

Not all people in recovery are triggered when people drink around them, but some are.

Here is an article from American Addiction Centers on how best to support an alcoholic and support their recovery.

If anyone has resources that they find helpful, we’re always happy to add them to these show notes or create a page devoted to resources for things discussed in our Heavy Themes sections. 

And, with that, we are done with Part 1!

 See you next time, Agents.

[everyonesawhoregrace]

The Good Side

Part 4

tag: @wefracturedmotivation  @reyloshipper-starwars    ok i keep on trying to add the other tags but it isn’t working so i will private message each time i post to whoever wants me to. x 

read 3 here

read 2 here

read 1 here

enjoy xx

The following day was expected to go easier as the last few. My mind was still racing at the fact that I got an apology out of Tommy fucking Shelby. Magic is real, and in the palms of my hands clearly.

I went home with the thought of him, thinking about silly things like his parents and his family life. The wedding ring meant he was married which made me think of his lady. I got to imagining the life of Tommy. Pictured everything a certain way without my actually knowing a single thing about him.

On my way to work, I felt a bit off. A little nervous than before, and it was an emotion I can only describe as the sign of me knowing I’m going to see Tommy soon.

I was excited. Shy. Nervous.

All the things I would normally feel, had I been crushing on someone. Was I crushing on Tommy? I don’t bloody know. Scratch that, I do fucking know. The answer was yes.

He has eyes the colour of the sky on a summers day. The face of a God who came straight from heaven. The voice is a man who can scoop me up into his arms.

I could almost hear my nagging subconscious, he choked you, with intentions of killing you. How can you be interested an a woman beater?

All questions I should ask myself. But as I swept mascara through my lashes and put on heels, was I thinking about that? Fuck no.

“Good morning Alene,” the warden Grant says to me. He smirks, blushing at me. He’s a little red man with a bald head. A bastard who tries to glance under nearly every woman’s skirts. “You look ravishing.”

“God.” I roll my eyes. “Can’t a woman wear heels and a little blusher without being ravishing?”

He laughs. “It’s just that usually you look quite dead.”

I get it, I’m being an arsehole. I deserved that.

“Can I help you with anything?” I ask, pushing my things into my little locker. I look down at Grant, who clears his throat.

“Yes actually,” he licks his lips. “A gentleman is here from the church. A member called father Hughes.”

“Okay?” I close my locker. “What’s that got to do with me?”

“Well he asked for you specifically. I assumed maybe you two were acquainted.”

“Acquainted?” I almost laugh seeing as I haven’t been to church in over twenty years. Never once picked up a Bible either. 

“Yes. He said he attending your wedding.” Grant looks at me as if I am some sort of mad woman, he’s almost certain this person attended my wedding when I know he didn’t. 

I turn and stare at Grant. My wedding that happened nearly ten years ago? The same wedding that only a handful of close family and friends were invited to? I almost laugh, that’s impossible. 

A voice is sounded from afar and before I can even turn my head does Grant smile widely and spin me around to face the person. “There he is, father Hughes, I found her.” Grant, in his cunning ways disappears in the back, leaving Hughes and I alone. 

Only then do I begin to imagine this man as the perpetrator who hurt Thomas in such a way. 

“Hello.” He says, extending a hand. 

I am hesitant at first, his smirk alone is something that makes me worried. Not taking his hand, I look up into his lifeless eyes, “You told Grant you know me?” I tilt my head, “I don’t recall us ever meeting.” 

“Perhaps you can allow me the privilege of rejogging your memory.” He mentions the hallway. “Lets walk, shall we?”

Not denying him, and knowing I must make my rounds soon. I take my medical kit and head out, with him following close behind. 

“I’m sorry to hear about your ex husband.” He tells me, hands behind his back as he walks beside me. 

I notice that we are heading downstairs, he seem to know exactly where we are going, which makes me question his intentions. Downstairs is of course where Tommy is. 

I keep my cool, despite having a meltdown. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

He scoffs. “Come on now Alene,” He has his head up, confidently taking strides beside me. “Your husband who you seemingly loved, gave up on your marriage the moment he found out you couldn’t do your job as a woman.” He murmurs, revealing only what my immediate family know of. He leans in, “A woman who cannot reproduce is everything but woman, isn’t that right?” 

I stop the moment he stands before the doors of Tommy’s room. I face him, spinning around so that we are literally face to face, and he is not able to wither himself into Tommy’s room. My face burns, I want to crawl into a ball and hide away from the truth. But how can I? 

You’ve got more to give, that’s what my sister said when she got news that I was unable to reproduce a child of my own. The love my former husband and I had for each other was no match for the true love he had of wanting a child someday. Heartbreaking really, it was an ordeal that broke us. 

“How do you know this about me?” I ask, looking up at him. “Who did you have to manipulate in order to find that out?” 

He smirks, “Your secrets are nothing in a holy house such as the church. As a matter of fact,” He puts his hand out, and with the back of his hand, he runs it over my cheek. I pull back, denying him. “Your mum was not a hard lady to confess. She practically showed up in confessional every day. She told me about your father, and how much he hit her. Told me that you took a liking to him. Daddy’s girl. While you sister preferred the company of your mother.” He nods, as if to confirm everything. 

My face gives it all away, mums always been an avid and devoted Christian woman, she’s always praised Jesus, despite the many difficulties he’s brought to her life. An abusive husband who ended up in jail at least for half of his life. And then two snotty daughters, one who hated her - me, and one who loved her endlessly - my younger sister Gabby. I take a step back, hitting my back against the metal bars that protect us from Tommy. 

“My mother only has one weak spot, and thats from you no good, lying Christians who feel superior to the innocent and feebleminded.” I hiss, “You used her weakness to your advantage, but let me tell you something Father. I know just as much about you as you know about me. These underlying details of molestation and sexual assault that goes on behind closed doors of the churches. And although I cannot bare children, something tells me I won’t go to hell for it.” I reveal, looking into his eyes. “But you might, for knowing the things you know. And I’m not saying you partaking in such horrendous crimes against children but, if you do, I hope you die slow and painfully.” 

He frowns so deeply and shaken, I think he might hit me, Hughes stares down at me. “You’re stronger than your mum, you should be proud of that.” He says, nodding once. “Perhaps thats why, I heard there is a man here who you’ve been tending to.”  As I stand there looking clueless of the fact that Father Hughes could potentially be the man Tommy was warning me about all along. “A man named Tommy Shelby.” 

“I don’t know who that is.” I reveal, trying to keep my calm. My medical kit is hooked around my fingers. I want to throw it at him, and run away. I press it close against me, creating a divider between myself and Hughes. 

“No?” He smiles. “You’re not lying to a man of God, are you?” 

“Fuck God.” I snicker, rolling my eyes. “And fuck you, you can shove all of that exploitation and trickery up your arse for all I care.” 

Hughes gets uptight, upset, he puts his hands up but I am too quick for him to touch me in any sort of way.

“Don’t you dare put your fucking hands on me!” I snap, not too sure what I plan on doing with my hands in a knotted fist. “I swear, I’ll scream.” 

Again, this amuses him. “Scream! Oh the inmates would love that I’m sure. A beautiful young lady like yourself crying out, it’ll only arouse the beasts.” 

Shaking my head, I look up at him and sigh. “Hughes, please, your being quite ridiculous and I have work to attend to-” I try to walk around him, but he blocks my body from moving. 

“Tell me where Tommy is.” His chest puffs out. 

“Who the hell is Tommy?!” I lie, just before he lunges at me.

Of course, me being thinner, shorter, and much more equipped of my surroundings, do I maneuver myself perfectly so that I duck under his arms and around him. I am quick to spin around but the moment I do, my cheek comes right in contact with the back of his hand. A slap to the cheek that nearly makes me sink the floor, my medical kit breaks open, and the first thing I set my eyes on, I reach for. A pair of scissors, harmless really unless I angle it right into his artery, killing him. But Hughes is on his feet and pushes his foot into my flattened hand, I cry out, looking up at him for mercy but he leans down and covers my mouth with his hand. That smirk embeds itself into my brain, like a cancer that won’t go away. 

“Listen ‘ere girl, you think you’re protecting the lad...”

My eyes widen at the figure behind Hughes, Tommy stands behind the bars, looking at me as if I’m a schoolchild whose gotten hurt. He pities me. I look back at Hughes, making sure to keep his attention on me. I swallow, tears in my eyes. 

“This’ll only backfire and if I find him somewhere in this prison,” Hughes looks up and around before bringing his gaze back down to mine. “I promise you, Alene, I will break each one of your precious fingers and you’ll be nothing .” Hughes warns me. “Do you understand?” 

I nod, yelping like a dog the moment he pushes down on my fingers before finally letting go and I fall into a fetal position. I suck in a breath, grinding my teeth together as my eyes water. Pain pulses through my fingers, I can see my middle finger and ring finger just oozing of blood, I try to move my pinky, but I cant. I’m bent too far, I take my wrist with my other hand, looking at my fingers to conclude that I’ll be out of work for days. Hughes walks away from me, and I let out a loud scream filled with regret, sadness, anger, desperation, I don’t know, but as I look down at my semi-squished fingers do I hear the bars slide open and his feet in my eyesight. 

I am lifted up into his arms, and I weakly open my eyes to see Thomas’s blue eyes glisten. He stares down at me, murmuring something, but I can only hear a buzzing in my ear. I’m in shock, I know this, but as the tears roll down my cheeks do I stare at his moving lips. 

I got you, I’ve got you. You’re okay. You’re going to be fine. I’ve got you, Alene. 

[brianne-nicole06]

Walk Through the Fire (Chapter 2: This Is Our Thing)

Bellamy's on a power trip. Sage and Roan meet again.

“What the hell are you doing?!”

I’m laying down in my tent with Octavia. Her leg is still healing from the bite. We were talking about what life will be like on the ground when we hear Clarke yelling.

“Hugh. What’s the princess yelling about now?” I say to Octavia.

“I don’t know, you know she’s bossy.”

“I’m gonna go check it out.”

I get up and walk out of the tent. A group of people are gathered around a fire. Clarke in Bellamy’s face, mad as hell.

“Step aside princess.”

“Not until you stop taking the bracelets off!”

Annoyed, I say, “What the hell are you guys fighting about?”

Clarke looks at me, “They’re taking people’s bracelets off. They’re the only way the Ark will know if we’re alive. If we start taking them off they’re going to think Earth is not survivable, and they’ll die.”

Murphy laughs, “Serves ‘em right. They floated my old man for trying to save me when I was sick.”

Bellamy assertively stands and looks at all of us as he speaks. “And when they come down here, it’s going to be just like on the Ark. Punishing us for stupid things. Floating us for the simplest crimes. Controlling everything we do!”

Clarke, “They’re our people! How could you not what them to come down. Our families, our friends, our doctors.”

Bellamy, “My people are here. Those are your people! The privileged! They’ll have it good down here! While the rest of us suffer.”

Everyone yells, “Yeah!”

I interject, “As much as we may or may not hate the people left on the Ark, we have to think about the bigger picture. Do you really think we can survive on our own for the rest of our lives?

We have no leaders, no guards, no doctors, no farmers, engineers! Not to mention our families are up there, and so are the innocent kids who deserve a better chance at life than what we had on the Ark.”

Bellamy, “Do not listen to them! We can survive on our own. Right?”

“YEAH!”

“And we what when we want! Whatever the hell we want!”

“YEAH!”

Bellamy looks at us with an arrogant, snide smile. I couldn’t stand the sight of him. How could he want all those people to die?

He looks at Clarke, Finn, and I. “So, who’s next?”

I huffed, “You’re not touching us over our dead bodies.”

“Speaking of dead bodies, that’s what we’re all going to be if we don’t get more food. Why don’t you three make yourselves useful and lead a hunting party; let the privileged do the work for a change.”

I stood there in seething rage. “Well, I don’t want to be around narcissistic idiots all day anyhow.”

Murphy laughed. “And there she goes, all fire and…sage.” And he continued laughing at unfunny joke. I gave him the middle finger I turned to my left and eyed a bunch of kids. “You six, you’re coming with me.” And I stomp my way out of the camp. I glanced back. Three of hunt for animals, the other three gathers fruits and nuts. Finn and Clark gathered some more people and split them up into groups. Clarke shouts, “Sage, you okay?” I wanted to scream no. I was annoyed because of Bellamy, Murphy, and anyone else who agreed with the idiocy and disregard for humanity. Instead I told her, “No. Look, I’m going to go take a beat for a while to calm down.” They nodded. “We’ll meet back at camp in a couple hours.” I turned around and walked.

I’ve been hiking for almost two hours. So far there still more woods, but the view is great. There’s a faraway mountain range that looks so...lifelike. I see a lake up ahead, and suddenly realize how thirsty I am. I make my over and drink a couple handfuls. I take a deep breath and look around. This area is actually pretty and quiet, which is why I took notice when I heard the sound of water swishing. My eyes pinpointed where the noise was coming from. The same man I saw the other day is now swimming in the lake. The sun is glistening on his bare back. Even from behind he looks godly. He turns his head slightly, now noticing me, and faces me. I couldn’t help but look at the water beading that his perfectly sculpted chest and abs. My eyes make their way up to his face. Now that I see his scars without white paint covering them, they actually nice. Then there’s his ice blue eyes. I could get lost in them forever. I come out of my mesmerization when he knowingly smiles. I immediately look into the trees, embarrassed. I hear more water moving, and when I look up the attractive man is making his way toward me. He stops, still in the water which just below his waist.

Nervous, I say “Hello.”

“What are you doing out here alone?”

“Umm, sightseeing?”

“Hm.”

I wait for him to say something else, but he doesn’t. I can’t believe how nervous this man makes me.

“So, what are you doing here?”

“Came to relax. I need a break from my people.”

Shocked, “Your people?”

“Yes, people. You know, humans?” He smiles at me.

If it were anyone else, I’d come up with some smartass remark. But in this case, I can’t help but appreciate his sass. “I know what people are. I just thought, we all thought, that there wouldn’t be anyone alive when we came here.”

He makes a disgruntled face. “And why is that?”

“Because of the nuclear explosion that destroyed the Earth.”

He takes a few seconds, sorting what I said in his head. Then nods like he came to an understanding.

“Praimfaya. That’s what we call it.”

Trying out the word, “Praimfaya.”

He nods.

“What language do you speak?”

“It’s called Trigedasleng. Everyone speaks it here. Not many of us speak your language, but we know it.”

Huh.

“You look exhausted. You should come in.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that.”

“Relax, I’m not going to hurt you. Besides, this is our thing. We meet near water. And go back and forth.”

I lightly roll my eyes and smirk. Study his eyes, I see that they’re genuine. I remove my shirt, pants, socks, and boots. I look to him and he’s eyeing my body. I give a small smile and walk into the lake. We walk deeper into the lake. The man grabs my arm looks over my body once more, and say “You’re beautiful, you know that?”

Widening my smile, “You’re not so bad yourself.”

The man gave a gracious smile that generated warmth through my body. I smiled and a realization hit me: I don’t even know his name.

“You never told me your name.”

“Roan.”

“Roan. I like it.”

He nodded. “You’ve been asking all the questions. So, it’s my turn. Why did you come here?”

“To survive. Our people were here before praimfaya, but left before the nuclear power plants exploded. We’ve lived in space for the past 97 years.”

“Until now.”

“Yeah, our government sent us down to see if the Earth was survivable. It is… obviously. Haha. [pause] We all thought we’d be alone here…but then I met you so…”

Roan’s silently taking all the information in.

“I told my friend I saw you, but he didn’t believe me. Said I was imagining you.” I roll my eyes.

He smiles “Well I assure you, you definitely aren’t.”

He glances at me with a hesitant look, but then takes a step toward me and wraps a hand around my arm. Roan looks deep into my eyes, and I feel naked. I look back, and feel even more of an attraction to him. Sure, he was physically attractive. His eyes. Smile. Body. And his confident stride. But there was something…that just pulled me in. Made me want to know everything about him. His free hand reaches out to pull some strands of hair behind my ear, and slides his hand down to my face. We draw our heads slowly closer to each other. I can soon feel his breath on my lips. I grin and look into his blue eyes once more. He brings the hand on my arm to the other side of check, and caresses it. And god, his hand feels so nice on my body. I’ve never felt so vulnerable and horny in my life. He closes his eyes, leans his head to the side, and parts his lips. I do the same and meet his lips. They were soft, but firm. Roan works his tongue into my mouth; he’s more aggressive. I sense that he’s very dominant, which is what I like. I grab his hair and wrap my arm around his neck. Our kisses get deeper, forcing me to catch my breath. We’re breathing each other’s air in, and I drag my fingers from his neck down his chest. For the next few moments, it feels like it’s just us, wrapped in each other.

[brooksiescollection]

San Francisco Silent Film Festival 2017 - Day 4

The Doll (Die Puppe) (1919)

Master director Ernst Lubitsch sets out his intentions early as we see him construct a toylike world in which his fantastical characters soon come to life. Wealthy milquetoast Lancelot (Herman Thimig, resembling a more effete Willy Wonka), startled by the prospect of marriage, seeks refuge at a monastery full of some very fat and self-satisfied monks, who concoct a crazy solution to his problem. Why not buy a realistic talking doll and marry her instead? The one he selects happens to be a replica of the dollmaker’s daughter Ossi. 

When the doll is broken, the real Ossi (the hilarious and exuberant Ossi Oswalda) steps in to replace her, and madcap hilarity - along with a generous dose of unapologetic sexual innuendo - ensues. As you might expect from Lubitsch, it’s a well-handled, inspired piece of entirely entertaining silliness, and one of the funniest films of the festival. 

Silence (1926)

The productions of Cecil B. DeMille’s short-lived PDC Productions of the late 1920s can be quite uneven - on one hand, there’s the excellent Chicago (1927) and Eve’s Leaves (1926); on the other, there’s forgettable fare like Hold ‘Em Yale (1928) and Midnight Madness (1928). Happily, Silence, recently rediscovered at the Cinematheque Française, is one of the better productions, a well made and glossy melodrama from The Phantom of the Opera helmer Rupert Julian. 

Though the storyline would win no awards, it’s lifted by the always likeable H.B. Warner as a man whose girlfriend (Vera Reynolds) adopts a more suitable candidate as the ‘father’ of her illegitimate daughter. When the ruse is uncovered by a slimy conman (Raymond Hatton), the now-grown daughter (also played by Reynolds) takes matters into her own hands, with potentially tragic consequences. The Mont Alto Picture Orchestra provided a particularly good and at times unusually percussive accompaniment that greatly contributed to the suspense of the early scenes. Given how many of these DeMille productions have been rediscovered in only the past decade, there may be plenty more treats lying in wait for us.

Image from Wikipedia

Terje Vigen (A Man There Was) (1917)

This Swedish film is a lyrical tone-poem of a feature, with a storyline just strong enough to move you but not so complex as to distract from its vivid imagery of the Scandinavian coastline. Based on a well-known poem by Henrik Ibsen, it tells of the tragic impact of the British blockade of Norway during the Napoleonic Wars upon a simple Norwegian sailor (Victor Sjöström, who also directs) and his impoverished family.

If you’ve seen Sjöström’s Hollywood classics such as He Who Gets Slapped (1924) and The Wind (1928), you won’t be surprised by his deft handling of such delicate material, but you will also find him a fine and subtle actor, conveying grief more eloquently with a single agonised glance than any amount of histrionics. To my mind, this was a far more successful experiment in capturing the rhythms of a piece of Scandinavian literature than Pan (1922), shown at the festival a few years ago. The Matti Bye Ensemble provided a suitably atmospheric accompaniment.

The Lost World (1925)

Most silent film fans would be familiar with this property, but who can say they’ve actually seen the film? Almost nobody living, thanks to the purchase and destruction of all available prints in the late 1920s. David Shepard and Serge Bromberg spent years examining surviving footage of variable quality and completeness to assemble this, the closest thing we may ever see to the original ten-reel version.

In this restoration, The Lost World finally reveals itself as a fully realised precursor to the action blockbusters of the current day. Jurassic Park (1992) is the obvious comparison, but there are also moments that evoke everything from the Indiana Jones series to the disaster pictures of the 1970s, to the current cycle of effects-driven superhero films.

Wallace Beery is perfectly cast as the eccentric Professor Challenger, who leads a ragtag expedition to prove the existence of dinosaurs on an isolated South American outcrop. The world of the movie, and especially the love affair between Bessie Love and Lloyd Hughes’ journalist character, are more satisfyingly fleshed out than in previous truncated versions. It’s absurd, it’s sometimes cheesy - but it’s a whole lot of fun.  The Alloy Orchestra’s stark, unorthodox score was one of their best and a great match for the picture, with the dinosaur’s cries chillingly rendered.

Image from Internet Movie Database

Two Days (Dva Dni) (1927)

Any film that begins with the callous death of a puppy and only becomes more depressing thereafter is not going to be a laugh riot, but for those with sufficient intestinal fortitude, this bleak Ukranian film has much to recommend it.

After an aristocratic family flees the Bolsheviks, their faithful servant (Ivan Zamychkovskyi) remains to guard their valuables. He soon finds himself torn between his worship of his son (Sergey Minin) despite his allegiance to the boorish Bolsheviks who take command of the house, and that of the son of his employer (Valeriy Hakkebush) who, when the tables turn, reveals himself no less thuggish than the invading enemy.

There’s shades of Emil Jannings’ downtrodden doorman from The Last Laugh (1924) in Zamychkovskyi’s performance, and while the film’s brutal, uncompromising vision makes it hard to love, its central message - that extremist ideology of any stripe is capable of distorting minds and destroying families - is undoubtedly a timely one.

Image from Wikipedia

The Three Musketeers (1921)

Like The Mark of Zorro (1920) before it, Fred Niblo’s epic starring vehicle for Douglas Fairbanks is the origin story of a hero. The supreme egotist in real life, Doug’s artistic ego was sure enough to know that you don’t need to be on screen every moment to still be the star of the show. It is only after a good deal of set-up about palace intrigues involving France’s King Louis XIII (Adolphe Menjou), his Queen (Mary MacLaren) and the treacherous Cardinal Richelieu (Nigel de Brulier) that Fairbanks’ character of D’Artagnan even makes his first appearance, beginning the story as a rather crude country youth. It takes an allegiance with the legendary Three Musketeers (Leon Barry, George Siegemann and Eugene Pallette) and his involvement in a plot to clear the Queen’s name to earn his status as a national legend.

Doug is as effortlessly charismatic, athletic and humorous as always, and the multiple moving parts of a storyline that easily might have sprawled into confusion are deftly handled, painted with broad enough strokes to be easily understood, but containing enough detail to gain an immersive sense of the period, which is lavishly rendered. The image quality for this new restoration is top notch, derived from Fairbanks’ own print that was deposited at the Museum of Modern Art in New York in the 1930s.

Don’t let its lengthy two-hour running time act as a deterrent - it all passes in the blink of an eye, without a moment’s drag. What a rip-roaring way to end the festival!

As always, I had the opportunity to catch up with a number of friends and fellow film bloggers both new and old, including Pamela Hutchinson, whose excellent Silent London website is well worth your time; Thomas Gladysz, director and founder of the Louise Brooks Society, Mary Mallory of The Daily Mirror, the indefatigable Donna of Strictly Vintage Hollywood, Beth Anne Gallagher of Spellbound by Film, and FilmRadar’s Karie Bible - most of whom have penned their own recaps of the festival that I urge you to read. 

The silent film community is full of passionate and wonderful people who are dedicated to keeping this art form alive, and I’m proud to be a part of it. Thank you to all who contributed to another wonderful weekend of silents!

[justanothercinemaniac]

Epic Movie (Re)Watch #151 - The Phantom of the Opera (2004)

Spoilers below.

Have I seen it before: Yes

Did I like it then: Yes.

Do I remember it: Yes.

Did I see it in theaters: No.

Format: Blu-ray

1) The attempt to bring Andrew Lloyd Webber’s iconic stage adaptation of The Phantom of the Opera to the screen started all the way back in 1989. Back then, it was going to star Michael Crawford and Sarah Brightman (who originated the roles of The Phantom and Christine, respectively). The project was ready to begin filming in 1990 with a November 1991 release date, but then Lloyd Webber divorced Brightman (they had been married) and production was stalled. In the interim, John Travolta, Heath Ledger, Matthew McConaughey, Meat Loaf, and Antonio Banderas were considered for the role of the titular character (with Bandera specifically training his voice for the role for years, only getting a chance to sing it during a Royal Albert Hall celebration of Andrew Lloyd Webber). At one point it was going to star Hugh Jackman and Anne Hathaway, but Jackman was busy with Van Helsing and Hathaway had The Princess Diaries 2 to film. Charlotte Church and Kate Winslet were also considered for the role of Christine before Emmy Rossum was cast. Through that time, Joel Schumacher had always been Lloyd Webber’s choice of director because of his work on The Lost Boys. In fact, the screenplay used was written by the pair all the way back in 1989. That means between writing of the screenplay and release, fifteen years went by. Now that I’m done with that fun fact...

2) I think this film improves on the Broadway shows prologue. The use of black and white is a nice touch, as is the decision to age up Patrick Wilson’s Raoul instead of having an elderly actor play the part. It is the first inkling of how the adaptation is able to use the differences between filmmaking and the stage to its advantage.

3) I first saw the stage production of this in August of 2009, then the film a few months afterward. It took me an embarrassingly long time (think years) to figure out that the broken chandelier was lot 666.

4) This adaptation REVELS in the freedoms you have in film versus what you have on stage, mainly through it’s use of three-dimensional space. On stage you have to present all the action in a single location and then orchestrate a scene change. But we get to see how the opera house is as much a character in the film as its titular Phantom of Christine. The film also utilizes the ability to shift POV between characters quite well, as again on stage your POV is stuck with whoever is in front of you. Here we can cut between characters in between scenes and get a fuller view of the picture. All this - as well as its well done use of special effects - gives the film a grander film. It is easy often times for a stage-to-film adaptation to feel stunted, but the team behind Phantom sure as hell knows how to avoid those problems. It’s one of the best parts of the adaptation.

5) Patrick Wilson as Raoul.

So at the risk of offending Phantom purists (something I maybe should have put as a disclaimer on this post), I have always found Raoul to be remarkably bland. No matter how good the performance is, I just have never found him an enticing character. He’s literally just there to be the healthy alternative to The Phantom’s love for Christine. I actually think Wilson does quite well as Raoul, making him the most interesting I’ve ever seen. He is able to make Raoul a bit more aggressive, a bit more strong headed, especially when going after The Phantom. But that’s about it. I think Wilson does admirable and he’s always been a favorite of mine, but I just find Raoul so damn boring.

6) Miranda Richardson as Madame Giry. 

Otherwise known as, “The only French character based on a French story in a musical which takes place in French who has a French accent.” Richardson is a talented character actress, as I noted in my Sleepy Hollow recap. She is able to make Giry compelling, interesting, mysterious. You understand that she’s hiding things, but her suspicion never makes her dislikable. To the contrary, the way Richardson plays the part makes Giry all the more fascinating. In my opinion, Giry is as mysterious as The Phantom in this film because of Richardson’s performance.

7) Okay, Firmin (one of the theater owners) making eyes at Christine is weird. Depending on the translation of the novel you read, she’s fifteen. And yes the actress was eighteen at the time of playing her, but still. Creepy. Also when Madame Giry says she’s an orphan this seems to encourage Firmin’s advances and I gag a little.

8) A little wink to another work of Andrew Lloyd Weber’s

Former Theater Owner [on how to deal with Carlotta]: “Grovel. Grovel, grovel.”

(One of the songs from Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat was “Grovel Grovel”.)

9) Minnie Driver as Carlotta.

I love Minnie Driver and she is absolutely perfect as Carlotta in this film. She is able to play the conceited diva MARVELOUSLY well (claiming to channel an old neighbor she had in Venice for the part). She totally loses herself in the part. This isn’t Skylar from Good Will Hunting, this isn’t Debi from Gross Pointe Blank, this is someone who is totally new. Driver is phenomenal in the part, although she didn’t do her own signing. She is a singer (contributing her vocals to the end credits song “Learn to Be Lonely”) but not an opera singer, so she had to be dubbed in. Nonetheless, she is an incredible addition to the film.

10) Emmy Rossum as Christine Daaé.

The protagonist of the film (more-so than The Phantom even), this was one of (if not THE) biggest roles the 18 year old had at the time. Rossum is great in the part, abel to capture Christine’s vulnerability without making her weak. Her honesty without making her naive. Christine is a character defined by her massive heart. She has incredible passion for music, a deep connection with her long dead father, incredible sympathy with The Phantom, and a wonderful friendship-turned-romance with Raoul. But she never come across as a damsel or as a fool. I think Rossum’s performance is a big part of that. You’re rooting for Christine and you love that she makes you do so.

11) Christine’s first number is her big performance of “Think of Me” for the opera house. During the neighbor the filmmakers gave her this angelic glow which I find...really distracting. Like it’s weird to me. I get they’re trying to emphasis her purity, but she looks a bit like a ghost.

(GIF source unknown [if this is your GIF please let me know].)

12) I do like the chemistry Rossum and Wilson have as Christine and Raoul. It’s not hot sweats pure passion chemistry, but it is a trust and honesty they have with each other. They’re old friends and that comes through in their performances. You get that they’re the right fit for each other.

13) Gerard Butler as the titular Phantom of the Opera.

The casting of Butler has been a controversial one following the release of the film. He’s not a classically trained singer and at times it shows. When it does show it can be distracting, but that’s not to discredit his performance as a whole. For the most part his singing is top notch, I would say 95% of the time. It is just you can be a little thrown off when there’s that 5% that isn’t what you were expecting.

I personally do not find Butler to be bad in the part. Quite the contrary, I think he’s pretty great. In my recap of The Bounty Hunter I noted he didn’t have the right kind of charisma to play the romantic comedy angle. This is not true here. To start, Butler fills out The Phantom’s physicality very well. Just the look he has in the mask and the cloak is a powerful visual. More than that though, he is able to portray all facets of the Phantom with expertise and grace. His passion, madness, obsession, instability, sorrow, and later heartache all are done with the appearance of ease by the Scottish performer. There are times when he breaks your heart, there are times when you hate him, but you are never bored by him. He always holds your attention and I think that is key in playing such an iconic character. And again, Butler is just great in the role.

14) Nowhere is Andrew Lloyd Weber’s skills as a composer better showcased in this film than the double billing of “The Phantom of the Opera” and “Music of the Night.”

To start with, the titular song is able to be creepy, macabre, invasive, chilling, fascinating, and eerie all at the same time. It perfectly represents just the horror and mystery The Phantom carries with him. Then turn around right into “The Music of the Night”...

This is the song which particularly gives us an amazing glimpse of who The Phantom is as a character. Nowhere in the film is he quite as voluntarily vulnerable as he is right now. His hearts is on his SLEEVES as he sings to Christine of his world, of who he is as a character. Through the seamless transition from the chills of “Phantom of the Opera” into a piece of music which is moving, heartbreaking, gut-wrenching, and just as fascinating, “Music of the Night” is quite possibly the best song in this whole film.

Having said that, it is a song which requires acting to match it. And Butler is at his best during this number. That previously mentioned vulnerability is on full display through Butler’s performance. You can understand his compassion for Christine, not only through his voice but also through his physicality. He plays the heart of the scene incredibly well. Rossum is great here too, showing off her fascination and wonder of The Phantom and his own through no words or song, just movement and expression. They both do a great job of elevating the number as it should be.

15) When listening to “Music of the Night” I believe that The Phantom’s obsession is not exclusively about finding a romantic love with Christine, but more about finding someone to be with him in the night. He is devastatingly lonely and wants a companion with him in the darkness. Who is a more devoted companion than a spouse?

16) The scene where Christine unmasks The Phantom only for him to fly off the handles makes something perfectly clear: the mask is as much for him as it is for everyone else. The Phantom deals with INCREDIBLE amounts of self loathing and metal health issues. He is afraid of being the monster people call him, he is afraid of letting them define him. The mask is an attempt to define himself. As I will explain later, it doesn’t work as well as he would hope.

17) Notes/Primadonna.

The double billing of the song begins as a nice peek into the relationship with theater owners Firmin and Andrew and their friendship (romance?). It also begins to illustrate just how deep the conflict between The Phantom and the egotism of the Opera/rules of the world in light run. You begin to see the hinges coming off of The Phantom as he tries ordering around everyone, setting up the drastic lengths he will go to later on.

The “Primadonna” half of the number serves as a fine montage. Showing just how the owners convince Carlotta to participate in the show and what lengths they are willing to go to to keep her. And it continue the film’s use of movement through a three dimensional space to convey sense of scope and plot, something which cannot be done to such an effect on stage. It’s a nice number but - again, at risk of offending Phantom purists - could it have been cut? It works fine on the stage but this film is two-hours-and-twenty-three minutes long. Would it not have been as effective to cut it for the screen and just had a standard scene of dialogue and score to convince Carlotta to stick around? I know it is blasphemy to consider cutting any number from one of the most iconic Broadway musicals of all time, but I can’t help but wonder if the film would have been better off without it.

18) It was during “Primadonna” when I realized something:

Carlotta’s goal is the same as Lina Lamont’s from Singin’ in the Rain.

They are both incredibly popular actresses with annoying voices looking to destroy the careers of an up and coming actress to ensure their own future success.

Now that you can’t unsee that...

19) The duality of Christine’s compassion/sympathy for The Phantom mixed with her fear of him later one creates a nice conflict for her. Something which is interesting to watch and should parallel the audience’s own feelings.

20) “All I Ask of You”

The number serves mostly as a nice moment of trust and honesty between Christine and Raoul. It is here where one would start shipping them, so to say. Yet while in most productions of the stage play you learn that The Phantom was there the entire time AFTER the song is done, you see his reaction to hearing Christine’s and Raoul’s love DURING the song. His constant presence is heartbreaking, an emotion Butler plays so well. It’s not just that Christine is choosing Raoul over him, she’s choosing the light. She’s choosing day instead of night, cementing the Phantom’s loneliness. Making it all the more heartbreaking for him. This was his once chance to not die alone and he just lost it. And it breaks your heart.

21) “Masquerade”

This is my favorite number in the film. Largely because it is one of the few light moments in the production, but more than that it ties into The Phantom’s own personal struggles in a way you don’t first understand upon listening. The “heroes” of the day (in a kind of elitist way) are practically gloating at The Phantom’s disappearance in a way which is mocking to his pain. They wear masks for fun, he wears a mask because he has to. Because he has been beaten and torn down because of his face. The lyrics take on a much sadder meaning with the reprise later in the film.

22) How fitting is it that The Phantom shows up to the masquerade dressed as The Mask of The Red Death?

“The Mask of The Red Death” is a short story written by Edgar Allan Poe where wealthy noblemen attempt to hide from a plaque known as the Red Death by hiding in an abbey. There, they host a masquerade ball when a figure disguised as a Red Death victim enters and makes his way through each of the rooms. His presence marks the deaths of every guest by the hands of the same disease they were so desperately trying to avoid. Basically a bunch of elitists try to hide from those beneath them and in their arrogance sign their own death warrants. I like that.

23) Briefly Raoul pursues The Phantom into a secret compartment under the opera house and finds a room full of mirrors, unable to determine which is the reflection and which is the man. This is not an element of the stage play, but an instead of the original novel. The Phantom would lock victims up in this room to drive them mad. I like the nod.

24) I first saw this stage production while it was traveling in 2009, then again when my alma mater put it on just a year after I graduated high school. I don’t remember Madame Giry going so in depth about The Phantom’s origins so much on stage, but I’m sure as hell glad the film has it.

Once again, the movie does an excellent job of utilizing point of view to add elements. Seeing just how terribly The Phantom was treated is devastating. As a child he was beaten, mocked, and treated like an animal for years. Referred to only as “The Devil Child” by his captors he only free himself by killing a man and then being forced to hide in the Opera House ever since he was a boy. No wonder the man went mad. No wonder he hides his face. He’s terrified of being exactly what people said he was, and because of the way he was treated that cruelty he’s afraid of is linked directly to his deformity. By hiding his face, he hides the monster. Or so he thinks.

25) I love this line, because it shows just how much we don’t know about The Phantom.

Giry: “He’s an architect and designer. He’s composure and magician. He’s a genius, mousier.”

If I’m not mistake, in the original novel The Phantom DESIGNED the opera house (as well as a palace for a Persian king). He is portrayed as being the greatest artistic mind of the century and the most mad. All in service of more depth to his character.

26) Again this is probably blasphemy to Phantom purists, but I always tune out during “Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again”. Rossum is great in the song, conveying the sorrow she feels over missing her father, but come on. Do we need a three to five minute number just to understand, “I really miss my dad, I wish he was here with me?”

I must admit the song is a beautiful piece of heartache and sorrow, while also giving us our best peek into Christine’s relationship with her late father, but it just slows down the pacing too much for me personally.

27) Similarly, the action of the following sword fight between The Phantom and Raoul is another thing that on its own I really like. The decision to add a bit more action to the film as well as giving Raoul more to do is something I appreciate. But it just slows down the pacing too much for me, personally.

28)

Christine [after they plan to use Christine as bait to lure out The Phantom]: “Raoul I’m frightened. Don’t make me do this.”

Can I just say I would like Raoul so much more as a character if he said, “Alright, I won’t make you do this. We can run for it. Just you and me.” I would love that, I would love if Christine came to the decision herself as, “No, even if I’m afraid I have to do this.” She sort of does that in the film as is but I would have liked both Raoul and that decision more if Raoul weren’t pressuring her to do it.

29) So the opera is performing The Phantom’s play Don Juan and the actor playing the titular Don steps off stage and The Phantom steps back on in costume as the don.

And I’m just thinking: really? No one immediately notices that the actor’s height, weight, and voice has changed? No one stands up and shouts, “Hey, that’s The Phantom!” and they just shoot him before he gets to close to Christine? They just roll with it? Do they people in the audience actually believe this is the tubby guy from before? Am I overthinking this?

30) Naming a song “The Point of Return” makes it pretty clear what is happening in the musical at this point, but beyond that the composition of the number does an excellent job of conveying its title. You feel the weight in the music more so than the lyrics, and that’s where the power is.

31) So The Phantom is ugly. He wears his mask to hide a hideous deformity that the world has totally shunned him for. It is this deformity which have caused him to be beaten repeatedly, tortured, and called the Devil’s Child as a kid. And then Christine goes to remove his mask and we FINALLY see the blood curling horror which is The Phantom’s face...

(GIF source unknown [if this is your GIF] please let me know.)

I do enjoy this film more than some others do, but come on. This is supposed to be one of the most hideously disfigured characters in all of fiction. He’s not even supposed to be human!

Anyway...

33) The decision to put the chandelier crash at the end of the film instead of the end of the first act I think is a smart change. When you’re doing a Broadway show you need a solid ending to act one, in film you usually want to hide the structure as well as you can. There’s no three acts (or at least there’s not supposed to be), there’s just one story. So it makes sense to have the chandelier at the end.

34) The film’s entire climax is incredibly key to The Phantom as a character, and Butler is absolutely stellar in the scene.

THIS is his madness as its greatest. His desperation and his pain has become total to him. There is nothing else. It is here that it becomes clear that the ugliness of his face has entered his soul. He has come the monster he was said to be as a child not because of any physical deformity but because of the mind crippling loneliness that deformity has brought him. He just doesn’t want to be alone anymore, and it is that decision that drives him to madness. And it is the first sign of companionship which brings him back to some form of reason.

Christine: “God give me courage to show you you are not alone.”

That is all The Phantom ever needed. Something real, something which showed him that he could be loved despite his face. He doesn’t lose Christine because of his scars. He loses her because of his actions. And the kiss shows him that. And he lets them go before listening to the music box singing the lyrics to Masquerade.

Phantom: “Masquerade...paper faces on display. Masquerade, hide your face so the world will never find you.”

35) Okay, ever since seeing the original stage production, this image of Meg finding the Phantom’s mask while dressed the way she is makes me want them to go on swashbuckling international adventures.

I really enjoy this adaptation. I think it conveys the stage musical in an effective and equally macabre way, that it uses the change in format to it’s advantage, and that it is acted remarkably well (even the controversial casting of Gerard Butler I think is pretty great). I just really enjoy this film and the heart it carries with it. If you’re a fan of musicals, horror, Andrew Lloyd Webber, any of the actors involved, or Andrew Lloyd Webber, I recommend giving it a view.

[ordinaryhouseholdtoaster]

Spooky Maidment’s Top 25 Favourite Actresses

I had intended to write and publish this list (originally entitled “Spooky Maidment’s Top Ten Favourite Actresses) in time for International Woman’s Day, but it quickly became a far grander undertaking than I had first imagined. I love films and, as such, I love actresses and, boy, are there a lot of actresses that I love.

The first draft of this list, which was compiled over three days, contained a shortlist of 57 thespians, all of whom seemed just as worthy of making the list as the 56 other ladies that their name had been scribbled alongside. And so, for a while, I trifled with the idea of making it a list of 50 actresses that I loved - but that, of course, would mean five times more writing than I had originally intended on doing, and I’m nothing if not lazy and really, really good at procrastinating.

And so, almost a month later, I’ve finally manged to whittle my list down to twenty-five. Twenty-five wonderful and talented ladies, some of which are, in the eye of this beholder, also stunningly beautiful.

And there it is - the obvious flaw in my attempt to celebrate women by composing a list of women that I like to look at. 

I am, as I have noted in the past, a straight man. I am attracted to women. Hollywood, very much aware of this dynamic, has been casting symmetrical and visually pleasing women in their motion pictures since the dawn of motion pictures and using their sex appeal to get me to watch said motion pictures. Sex sells, after all, and, with that in mind, I have tried my utmost not to allow my penis too much sway in the forming of this list (which is why Kristen Stewart is rightfully absent). 

That said, at this point, having hit puberty approximately 17 years ago, it is rather difficult for me to know just what part of my brain is steering this dilapidated ship at any given moment, and I am sure that sexual attraction plays a much larger role in the forming of my tastes and opinions than I would be willing to admit.

With that in mind, I have actively tried to keep the objectification to an absolute minimum.

And on that cheerful note, here’s my fluffy list, which I’m now worried might be considered degrading, and which, I’ve just now noticed, features a complete and utter lack of ethic diversity. Well, there you go. I’m sexist and racist, apparently.

#25: Robin Tunney

Coming in at number 25, and repping every badass ‘90s chick who didn’t quite make the list (Including, but not limited to, Joey Lauren Adams, Neve Campbell, Clea DuVall, Shannen Doherty and Samatha Mathis), Robin Tunney will always be Deb from Empire Records in my heart, although her leading performance in The Craft (pictured) and her scene stealing brilliance in Encino Man are worth watching over and over and over again. 

24: Mia Farrow

The Rosemary in Roman Polanski’s Rosemary’s Baby (pictured) and the Hannah in Woody Allen’s Hannah And Her Sisters, Mia Farrow is probably best known these days for being one of the major players at the center of her ex-husband’s various child abuse scandals, which is a damn shame because she was also in twelve of his movies, with her best performance being as Cecilia in the magical and often overlooked The Purple Rose of Cairo. If you can separate the art from the artists, you should watch any Farrow/Allen collaboration that you can lock your eyes on.   

#23: Sigourney Weaver

As if any justification were needed for her being on this list beyond stating the fact that she plays Ellen mother-fucking Ripley in the Alien films, Sigourney Weaver also stars opposite Bill Murray in my two favorite movies of all time, Ghostbusters (pictured) and Ghostbusters II, as well as having roles in Galaxy Guest, The Ice Storm and the criminally under-rated M. Night Shyamalan thriller The Village.

#22: Sissy Spacek

The original Carrie, Sissy Spacek’s almost otherworldly face, pale complexion, abundance of freckles and excellent acting chops are best admired in Robert Altman’s 3 Women and Terrence Malick’s Badlands.

#21: Juliette Lewis

There’s a stretch in the early to mid ‘90s where it feels like every cool film has a beautiful performance from Juliette Lewis in it. Cape Fear (pictured), Kalifornia, What’s Eating Gilbert Grape, Natural Born Killers, From Dust ‘Til Dawn... she’s smack bang in the middle of all of ‘em, playing a whole mess of innocent, crazy and broken young women. How can you not love Juliette Lewis?

#20:  Mira Sorvino

I love Mimic (pictured) and if you don’t like Mimic, we can’t be friends. Mira Sorvino is great in Mimic and she’s also great in Mighty Aphrodite, Romy And Michelle’s High School Reunion and Summer Of Sam. Fuck you, Del Toro is a genius and Mimic is great, and one of the main reason’s that Mimic is great is Mira Sorvino and you don’t know what you’re talking about... la, la, la, la, la...

#19: Ally Sheedy

The first of two brat pack members to make my list, Ally Sheedy may not be as iconic as the starlet at #16 but, boy, does she ever show up in a lot of my favourite ‘80s flicks - with starring roles in The Breakfast Club, St. Elmo’s Fire, WarGames (pictured) and a little masterpiece called Short Circuit. Cute as a button, charming, hilarious, a fantastic actress... and did I mention that she’s in both The Breakfast Club and Short freaking Circuit?

#18: Kirsten Dunst

I’m pretty sure I could watch Kirsten Dunst eating soup for two hours, I love her so, but luckily she’s Lux in The Virgin Suicides (pictured), the lead in my number one guilty pleasure Bring It On, the cute and adorable child star of Little Women, Interview With A Vampire and Jumanji, Mary Jane Watson in Sam Raimi’s Spider-Man trilogy and the star of countless other films, so, as of yet, I haven’t had to resort to setting up a camera in her dining room. 

#17: Linda Cardellini

In much the same way that Bob Hoskins would make his way onto a (as of yet) hypothetical list of my “Top 25 Favourite Actors” based solely on just two roles - in his case Mario Mario from Super Mario Brothers and Eddie Valiant from Who Framed Roger Rabbit - Linda Cardellini makes this list based solely on just two roles. The first is her portrayal of Velma Dinkley in the colossally under-rated Scooby-Doo films, and the second, and far more important, is her turn as Lindsay Weir in the cult classic TV show Freaks And Geeks (pictured), the cancellation of which still breaks my heart to this day.

#16: Molly Ringwald

The second brat pack member to make my list, John Hughes described Molly Ringwald as his muse, casting her in leading roles in Sixteen Candles, The Breakfast Club (pictured) and Pretty In Pink. Although her career fizzled out shortly after that, Ringwald remains the face of the ‘80s for myself and countless others and although her star shined briefly, man, did it ever shine brightly. 

#15: Nicole Kidman

I watched Stoker the other day and whilst Mia Wasikowska was excellent in it, Nicole Kidman was absolutely mesmorising. Why do I keep forgetting how much I love Nicole Kidman? She’s great in Dogville (pictured), The Others, Margot At The Wedding, Cold Mountain and Birthday Girl... and she made me feel “all funny inside” whenever I watched Batman Forever as a child. I really should watch more films with Nicole Kidman in them. Is Days Of Thunder any good?

#14: Uma Thurman

Standing tall at the center of the Tarantino universe, Uma Thurman’s roles in Pulp Fiction, Kill Bill Vol.1 and Kill Bill Vol. 2 (pictured) are probably the reason she’s on this list, but her endearing and beautiful turns in Jennifer 8, Beautiful Girls, Gattaca, Mad Dog and Glory and the 1998 version of Les Misérables are the reason she sits at the number 14 spot.

#13: Reese Witherspoon

From cool and angsty flicks like Election, Cruel Intentions, Freeway, Best Laid Plans, Pleasantville and S.F.W in the mid to late ‘90s, to Oscar-winning fare like Walk The Line (pictured) and Wild as she perfected her craft, Reese Witherspoon is always on form and always a treat to watch, whether she’s giving an Academy Award winning performance or goofing off in the likes of Legally Blonde. Also, just look how the light dances on her pointy little face!

#12: Amy Adams

I can’t remember if I first saw Amy Adams in Doubt (pictured) or in Sunshine Cleaning, but I do remember thinking, “Holy shit, this woman is amazing. She might even be the next [see number one on this list]”. Nine years later, Adams is one of the biggest names in Hollywood with an impressive five Academy Award nominations to her name and I’d happily unsee all of those performances to have Adams revise her role as Mary from The Muppets.

#11: Christina Ricci

I’m going to be perfectly honest with you right now, Christina Ricci is on this list (and at number 11, no less) because when I was child, I was totally in love with Kat Harvey from Casper (pictured). Ricci is also great as Wednesday Addams in both The Addams Family and The Addams Family Values, as well as in The Ice Storm and Black Snake Moan, but I’d be lying if I told you that this was anything more than eight year old me making demands of thirty year old me.

#10: Patricia Arquette

When Patricia Arquette won the Oscar for Best Supporting Actress for her role in Richard Linklater’s Boyhood, I wasn’t in the least bit surprised - even though, at that point, I hadn’t even seen the film yet. Criminally under-rated and not in nearly enough films for my liking, Particia Arquette is absolutely brilliant in True Romance (pictured), Lost Highway and as Kissing Kate in Holes. 

#9: Chloë Sevigny

Last year, I was watching the excellent David Fincher thriller Zodiac for the first time and when Chloë Sevigny arrived on screen, at what must have been at least the 60 minute mark, I cheered out loud as if I were watching a football match and my favourite player had finally been brought onto the field. Kids, Gummo, Boys Don’t Cry (pictured), American Psycho, Dogville, Broken Flowers, Antibirth... Chloë Sevigny has an utterly amazing screen presence and the ability to subtly elevate any film, regardless of how big or small a role she has to play in it.

#8: Sally Field

Sometimes I fantasize about Sally Field being my mother - à la Forrest Gump or the excellent ABC TV show Brothers and Sisters - and sometimes I dream about marrying Norma Rae (pictured) or running away with Carrie from Smokey And The Bandit. Either way, Sally Field is a treasure and 8th place almost seems like blasphemy.

#7: Winona Ryder

Beetlejuice, Heathers, Night On Earth (pictured), Reality Bites... no actress has ever been as cool as Winona Ryder was in the late eighties and early nineties. Little Women, The Crucible, Bram Stoker’s Dracula... no actress has ever tried so hard and failed so spectacularly to speak with an accent as Winona Ryder did in the mid-nineties. And then, I saw Girl, Interrupted and I realised that, unlike Johnny Depp’s very real tattoo, the tattoo in my heart would always read Winona Forever. 

#6: Scarlett Johansson

In much the same way that any list of ice cream flavours would be incomplete without vanilla, my list of favourite actresses would be incomplete without the totally obvious and predictable inclusion of America’s current sweetheart Scarlett Johansson. Forever in my heart for being the onscreen personification of Sofia Coppola in Lost In Translation (pictured), Scar Jo has since blown me away using only her voice in Her, by saying hardly anything at all in Under The Skin and by somehow beating out Mark Ruffalo’s Bruce Banner to make Natasha Romanoff my favorite character in the Marvel Cinematic Universe. 

#5: Jodie Foster 

Bugsy Malone, The Little Girl Who Lived Down The Lane, Taxi Driver... in 1976, at the age of 13, Jodie Foster had a role in each of these films, each time playing overly sexualized children in adult situations and earning an Oscar nomination for Taxi Driver. Twelve years later, she picked up her first Academy Award for her portrayal of a rape victim in The Accused, before picking up her second Oscar in 1991 for playing Clarice Starling in The Silence of the Lambs (pictured), probably the best thriller ever made (with the possible exception of Se7en). In 1994, she would go on to make audiences laugh in Maverick and cry in Nell, the latter of which earned her her fourth and final Academy Award nomination. If you love cinema (which I do), it’s impossible not to love Jodie Foster (which I do). 

#4: Shirley MacLaine

Audrey Hepburn this, Audrey Hepburn that. Women wanted to be her and men wanted to be with her. Well, not me... of the two leading ladies in the 1961 drama The Children’s Hour, I was captivated by Shirley MacLaine. And what’s more, her comedic timing was (probably still is) second to none, making her the perfect lady to star opposite the late, great Jack Lemmon in The Apartment (pictured) and Irma La Douce. Throw in her beautifully fragile and oddly arousing performance as Eve Rand in Being There, and MacLaine is motherfucking Hollywood royalty, son. Long live the queen of the silver screen!

#3: Laura Linney

Primal Fear, The Truman Show, You Can Count On Me (pictured), Mystic River, Love Actually, Frasier, The Squid And The Whale... chances are, you’ve seen Laura Linney and thought, “Hey, I know that lady from x, y or z”. Me, I love Laura Linney. I can’t remember when that love began... or which film it was that suddenly made me realise that I loved her... or why exactly I love her as much as I do... or whether or not it’s a sexual thing... but I love her and I’ll watch anything she’s in, from now until the day one of the two of us dies.

#2: Melanie Lynskey

Although probably best known for her debut in Peter Jackson's Heavenly Creatures - for which she was nominated for an Academy Award at just sixteen years old - or for her stint as Rose on the CBS sit-com Two And A Half Men, for me (and the peeps at Sundance, apparently), Melanie Lynskey is the queen of the indie scene, having ignited my passion for quiet, character-driven cinema with her roles in Hello I Must Be Going, The Intervention, Rainbow Time and, most recently, I Don’t Feel At Home In This World Anymore.

#1: Julianne Moore

As hard as it was to whittle this list down to just 25 actresses, and as difficult as it was to then put those lovely ladies into something akin to a ranking order, the top spot was secure throughout, ‘cause ain’t nobody taking the crown from Julianne Moore. For me, growing up in the ‘90s, Moore was Sarah Harding, the apex-predator expert in Steven Spielberg’s The Lost World: Jurassic Park, the rough and ready redhead who refused to be eaten by dinosaurs and who stirred feelings within my ten year old self that I didn’t then fully understand. Throw in her turns in Short Cuts, The Big Lebowski, Magnolia, Evolution and her hilarious yet heartbreaking performance as Jules in The Kids Are Alright (pictured) - to name just my personal highlights - and Julianne Moore has made me laugh, cry and beam from ear to ear on more occasions than I can recall. Also, I’m pretty sure she’s the reason I have a predilection for redheads. I know, I know... I said I’d keep the objectification to a minimum, but, c’mon, I am but a man. 

So, number one with a bullet is Julianne Moore. Agree? Disagree? Don’t be daft, this is a list of my favourite actresses. Who are you to say I can’t rank Molly Ringwald higher than Ally Sheedy? 

Anyway, suck it, internet. I’ve got films to watch and other lists to spend months pouring over.

Spooky, out! 

SpookyMaidment has written many lists, some of them available to view, for free, in truck-stop restrooms up and down the Eastern Seaboard. He’s also a man - a goddamn, hairy-ass man and how dare he put a bunch of women in order of how much he likes them! What a fucking pig!