#see you again real soon Mr. McGregor

[barmadumet]

One year ago today since THIS happened 😅

I still don’t know if I’m happy about my reflex to place my hand upon his chest, or if I’m horribly embarrassed by it. Regardless I’m glad he humored me and pinched my hand 🥹

Original post about NY Comic Con 2023:

[awkward-radar-tech]

Peter Rabbit was fun, I'm still waiting to get the dvd Goodbye Christopher Robin. But Peter Rabbit haha he is so Hux in that film! Hux running a department store! How about a little story were reader meets Hux who works in Harrods and asks for his help for something then he offers to buy you coffee in the cafe there on his break?

I'm so glad you enjoyed it! It is such a fun movie and I can't wait for the sequel next year (google says it comes out February 7 in the US). Mr. McGregor is very much Hux (why is Domhnall always kinda mean in kids movies???). I (and others) like to imagine Thomas is actually Hux undercover, which works for this second part. Although this is just modern au Hux.

---

You were lost, completely, hopelessly lost. You weren't used to large department stores. All you wanted was a few new dress shirts for your dad and a nice belt for yourself, but you got all turned around going to the different floors and now you were in the toy section in search of an employee since signs obviously weren't helping you today. There were a few kids with their moms and one really well dressed father, not out of place for this store, who was looking at the far shelves, so you went to move on to a new section. Then the father turned around, and saw the gleam of a name badge, he wasn't a father, or well maybe he was but he definitely worked here. You carefully made your way over to the man before he could get away, and he noticed your movements so he stopped moving the toys and waited.

The man, A. Hux his badge stated, smiled and greeted you, "Hello and welcome to Harrods. Are you in need of any assistance today?"

"Uh, yes please," you internally cursed yourself, why were you letting his good looks fluster you.

"Alright, and how may I assist you today?"

"I'm uh, a bit lost. I'm not used to big stores like this. I'm trying to find some dress shirts and maybe a tie for my father for his birthday, and then I need a nice belt for myself."

Hux nodded, "We'll start with the belt. If you would follow me."

Once you got to the belts, you stopped in front of Hux, "Thank you. You can just give me directions to the shirts, I'll find them myself. I don't want to keep you from work."

"I'm fine waiting. It is my job to help customers have the best experience here, so no worries. I'll just adjust the displays around here, come find me when you're ready."

You found a belt, then went back to Hux, who was arranging some scarves, "Excuse me, Hux, I'm ready to go to the dress shirts now."

He stopped his fussing and adjusted his suit as he turned around to face you, "Alright then. Follow me, um, wait I never asked your name. What is it?"

You told him and then he nodded, repeated your name and waved for you to follow. It wasn't long before you reached your desired location, and you weren't quite ready to say goodbye to Hux, but before you could ask for help picking out some nice shirts, he was asking you if you needed assistance. You didn't hesitate in saying yes, maybe you were a bit too eager.

Hux helped you quite a bit, and seemed to know what he was doing. You hoped he did since his name tag said he was a manager, but he asked questions you wouldn't have thought of when choosing a shirt. He asked about your father's skin tone, hair color, and what he would be wearing the shirts to, and narrowed down a few colors and styles would work best. You were planning on getting him 3 shirts, white, a fun pattern, and his favorite color, but Hux helped you choose ones to fit your dad's needs. You decided to get a tie also, which Hux also helped you pick, and then he escorted you to the cashier. After you checked out you were surprised to still see him standing around the area, so you went over to thank him one last time before leaving.

"Thank you again for all your help today, Hux. It means a lot."

Hux smiled at you and then he seemed to be contemplating something, "You're quite welcome. It was my pleasure. I, uh, well, this is a bit strange and unconventional, maybe unprofessional, but, um. You can say no to this, I wont be hurt. My break is about to start and I was wondering if you'd like to have coffee with me at the cafe."

"Uh, sure. Why not. I know where that is since I saw it when I came in."

Hux seemed ecstatic, "Alright. I have to go clock out real quick. I'll meet you downstairs in a moment. And uh, don't buy anything while you're waiting, it will be my treat."

You nodded and watched him practically run to the employee doorway, smiling, then you went down to the cafe and browsed the menu. It wasn't too long before Hux tapped you on the shoulder.

"You ready to order?"

"Yeah."

You stood talking, mostly about your time in the area, which you had just moved into, and how you had never been in a store like this. Once you had your drinks you sat at a table in the corner.

Hux seemed shy now, reaching up and running his fingers through his immaculately styled red hair, "I'm sorry if this is strange, but you look absolutely stunning, and I almost wasn't able to speak when you walked up to me. But my instincts kicked in and fed out my usual line."

It was your turn to be shy, "Oh. Thank you. I thought the same about you. I almost couldn't tell you what I needed help with."

You both were flustered now so you each took a sip while looking at the table.

Hux composed himself first, "I have to get back to work soon. But could we perhaps exchange numbers? In case you need help around the city, and to let me know how your dad likes the shirts."

"Of course," you quickly pulled out your phone and handed it to him, open to a new contact page, "put in your details, then I'll text you my name so you have my number too."

You definitely text about other things than just how much your dad liked the shirts and tie, or needing help finding things around town. But you were the one who asked him on a real date first. You first asked about the best pub, then when he responded with a name you asked if he would go there with you, as a date. He called you and said yes.

[pendragonfics]

He’s a McGregor

Paring: Thomas McGregor/Reader

Tags: female reader, alternative canon, gardening, slow build, fluff and angst. 

Summary: Bea's next door neighbour, Reader can't help but fall for Thomas the moment he steps foot into her life. Too bad that life is complicated.

Word Count: 3,602

Current Date: 2018-05-10

Every Sunday, near religiously, you would always be at the farmer’s markets. Even the days when you felt a tad ill, or, the night before you had a fun night out at the pub with friends. It was a fact known around the town that, despite divine intervention, or perhaps the Queen herself, there was never anything in your life which could stop you from setting up your fresh produce stall at the farmer’s markets.

Your friend, Bea, would tease you whenever she had the chance about this. She was a painter – a quite good one, if anyone asked for your opinion – and lived in the cottage just beyond the little woods which separated her and the grumpy Mr. McGregor’s homes. But, despite being neighbours, and, friends for nigh five years, Bea was more like a sister to you than anything, and, together, you shared your love for the rabbits and the other creatures who lived in the woods.

Today, with cinnamon tea cakes made with your eggs and apples from the orchard, you sat on her cottage’s little balcony and enjoyed the silence of Saturday mornings in the company of one another, and a cup of Earl Grey. You were sure that if there were unexpected guests they would be aghast at the sight of two spinsters, sitting in the warmth of the English summer. You, with the dirt of your garden still under your fingernails, and she with the flecks of paint on her face.

But then again, there seemed to be visitors approaching on the driveway, and silently, you and Bea turned to one another as if to question whose visitors they were. Bea’s drastic chance to the country meant all her family were still in the metropolitan regions of England, and your family weren’t local, and scattered over the globe like indecisive dice.

“That’s a nice car,” you intoned.

The old Land Rover was only a nice car the person deciding it was nice or not was a someone who was interested in vintage cars, and since you were, it was one. It had to be from the early seventies and was a shade of military green which made you wonder had ever been a good colour for anything to be painted.

“It’s an old car,” Bea quirked her lip. “I’m not expecting any visitors…”

You shook your head. “Me neither.” With a sip of your tea, you added, “Must be someone for the late Mr. McGregor’s property. Maybe they’ll renovate it to be a halfway home or sell it for charity. Then something good’ll come from that horrid old man’s place.”

The both of you chuckled.

It was then the Land Rover pulled up before the McGregor house. From the car, stepped out a man; he was tall, in the way which made you wonder if all his limbs were long, or if it were just his legs. His hair was a dark shade of red which looked almost brown, and he wore a fancy suit like he had walked straight from the city, into his car, and somehow wound up here, up in the Lake District.

You and Bea shared a glance, and biting your lip, you took a deep sip of your tea. It was then your mobile phone took to vibrating upon the table beside your saucer, your screen lighting up with a reminder that your rising dough was ready to be baked.

“I’ll leave you to this handsome stranger,” you set your teacup down, gathering your things. Bea sighed, and doing the same, the both of you made to clear the table before you went on your merry way to bake bread. “Be nice,” you remind her, setting the teapot beside her sink.

But when you exit her front door, you catch the eye of the newcomer, whoever he is. Despite the fact he’s as stiff as a beanpole and as frowny as a barn owl, you give him a small wave, and, take the trail through the woods to your awaiting dough.

---

You wake two hours before sunrise, and pulling on your big galoshes, you begin the task you do every Sunday morning. Harvest. It’s a lovely thing, really – you spend the week coercing your tomatoes to blossom from verdant to rosy, nurturing your cauliflowers to become the size of dinner plates. Not everything is harvested every week; you’re still waiting for your squash to ripen, and your thyme is still not mature enough. You feel almost like an eccentric witch when you harvest for the markets in the morning. A gardening witch, you’d be, the sort children read about in fairy-tale books. Then again, if someone came to steal anything, you’d never ask for their firstborn in a million years (you very much preferred to sleep through the night, thank you very much).

Soon enough, your produce is washed, loaded into the back seat of your 1979 Volkswagen Beatle, and just as the sunrise stains the tops of the trees and the world around, you’ve washed the dirt from yourself, and are dressed and ready to go to the markets. When you park, you’re soon seeing familiar faces; Betsy from the library selling preloved books, Mr. Johns’ miscellaneous trinkets, Mrs. Zawadzcy has her potted plants on display.

“Morning, __________,” Betsy gives you a wave from behind her table. “Ooh, your vegetables are looking quite lovely today!”

You wave her off. “They look quite lovely every day, Betsy,” you chuckle, toting the box of potatoes onto your designated trestle table. “How about the books, any nice titles you’ve got there?”

“Oh, nothing good,” She shrugs, and giving a big sigh, adds, “The kids these days only want to read longwinded romances between people who’ll never be together.”

You thank her, moving your produce around in a sort of display. “and how about your book? How’s writing going?”

Betsy laughs.

Sundays are often fast, perhaps because you’re focused on selling your vegetables, or, because there isn’t a way to tell the time other than the distant bong of the town clock, or the cries of tired toddlers. But today, when the sun was high enough to be in your eyes, you saw Bea approaching hurriedly, her jacket buttons mismatched, hair awry.

When she made it to your table, you raised an eyebrow. “You look like you saw the gatekeeper of Hades, Bea.” You chuckle, giving Mrs. Zawadzcy’s nieces a wave as they walked by. When your friend did not laugh it off, you frowned. “Is everything alright?”

She gaped. “Alright? No! The man, from yesterday, you remember him?”

“We watched him,” you nod, wrapping up Mr. John’s usual order of carrots in brown paper. As you exchanged produce for coin, you added, “He drove in a terribly old Land Rover, how can’t I?”

Bea gave an exasperated shudder. “Yes, well, he’s a McGregor.”

You paused. Remembering that you had thought he had Bean handsome, you blanched. You were a lovely person, whom mostly everyone labelled as kind, or forgiving. But there was one – no, two, people in this world who deserved no forgiveness; whoever decided to kill off Eccleston’s rendition in Doctor Who after a single season, and Mr. McGregor.

“Oh,” you replied.

She nods. “Oh, is just about right, __________!” Bea runs a hand through her wild hair, and adds, “He comes into town as if he’s Bean here all this time and demands – demands! – that I keep the rabbits away from his property!”

“Sounds like a real prick to me,” you intone.

Bea agrees, and navigating her way around the trestle table, throws herself into your arms. With a sigh, you console your neighbour and confidant. You know just how much she disliked the old Mr. McGregor – you both shared that passion fervently – and you know just how much she loved the rabbits who lived around the woods between both of your houses. She’d even named them; little Peter was her favourite.

“Hey, why don’t you send the bunnies my way, until he cools off?” You suggest, withdrawing from the embrace. “I’ll leave my gate open, too; I’m sure they’ll think they’re in heaven.”

---

The first time you find yourself speaking to new Mr. McGregor, you’re in your bathers, trying to get beetroot stains out of your favourite blouse in the creek that runs between all three houses. Normally, you would be fine to be spotted in your swimsuit, but, it’s a terribly cold morning, and you’re wearing a haggard old woollen jumper as you do the task as to not die of pneumonia. And, then, add the tall, mysterious new neighbour to the scene, and your face is flushed with embarrassment.

“Morning,” you wave to him, your hand clutching a bar of laundry soap.

He frowns, pausing mid-step to focus, “What are you doing?”

You show him the blouse. “Beetroot stain. I’m too stubborn to throw my shirt away, and too stingy to go to town to pay hard-earned quid for a washing machine.” You huff playfully, and pushing your hair back, go back to the chore of blotting the blouse. “Oh, and I’m your other neighbour, too, I’m __________.” You explain. “Not just some village weirdo who’s washing clothes in the creek.”

He nods, putting his hands into his trouser pockets. “I’m Thomas. Thomas McGregor.”

You grin, understanding. You weren’t sure when Bea said ‘He’s a McGregor’ she meant he was a relative, or even alike in spirit, but, it seemed he was both. “Ah, that explains the changes you’ve done to the garden,” you say, gesturing to the garden’s walls.

Thomas hums. From his pocket, you hear his car keys rattle, as if he’s wondering whether to leave the terribly awkward conversation between the both of you and go off to do better things. But instead of bidding adieu, he surprises you.

“You can use my laundry, if you like,” he suggests.

“Really?” you wonder.

You’re unsure if you’re incredulous, or just shocked. The other McGregor used to call you a ‘Spinster Wench’ – a direct quotation! – and every year would grow the larger pumpkin at the local fair’s competition. He was a bitter man, intolerable and bitter. You’re not sure why you expected this McGregor to be the same, and yet, he’s being nice.

“I mean, until yours is able to be fixed,” he adds hastily. A digital tone sounds from his pocket, and the moment is broken. Checking his phone, he makes a face, and goes off toward his car. “Sorry, got to dash.”

“It was nice meeting you, Thomas!” You call after him as he climbs into his Land Rover.

He drives off, down the driveway, and at the end, takes the turn toward town. It’s not until an icy breeze from the heavens above goes through your bones that you remember you’re dressed less than favourably for October. Coming to your senses, you gather your things and rush home.

When you’re inside, you throw your wet clothes into the kitchen sink. It’s then you dash toward the bathroom adjacent to your bedroom, and spinning the bathtub’s tap on so fast, you’re not sure why the knob doesn’t spin right off and hit your head.

It’s then, standing in the bathroom, amid the slowly-heating steam and the crudely self-painted walls, you feel a sting, a reminder. You don’t acknowledge this feeling until your whole body is immerged under the terrifically hot water, when your hair is wet, ears full of water, and eyes closed.

You’re lonely.

Your parents had been so happy in your childhood memories; those sepia-toned mind-pictures were the stuff of dreams. But that was just it; they were dreams, and children knew nothing about adults, and adults were sometimes only playing pretend romance when they were really seething in sadness and regret. Your mother left when you were twelve, moving to Santorini with a brand-new girlfriend and a half-dozen dogs and communicated in post-cards, and your father went when you were old enough to live alone, and took to New Zealand, and married into a blended family.

Maybe they’re why you’re alone, trying not to fall into the same trap of it all. Why you’re reminded of your shortcomings when meet the new neighbour, you’re not sure, but, your heart beats faster at just the thought of him.

Your lips breach the surface of the bathwater, and taking a deep breath in, you replace it with a sigh. With your bones thawed from the freezing autumnal coldness, you sit back, the warm water tumbling down your forehead, and smile to yourself, realising something so obvious.

You like him.

---

It’s colder this morning, and while Bea’s away for the holidays to visit her family in the city, you’ve got the rabbits staying in the warm of your renovated atrium. You’re as much in love with the rabbits as Bea, treasuring them all so very much. It keeps them out of trouble; little Peter has been up to so much trouble lately, and you’re doing your all to wean the bunnies off the thrill of annoying Thomas.

You’re constantly seeing him; when you meet at the letterboxes, when you’re passing in the street with your reusable bags after your weekly trip to Tesco, or when you’re using his laundry still because you’re still not able to afford a new washing machine. Every time you share words, you fervently defending the local wildlife against his raging distaste for it, and all the while, you’re doing your best to hide the blossoming feelings you have for him.

When you find out he’s got no plans for Christmas, you blink. Surely a man like himself isn’t going to be spending the day alone, yet, he plans to.

“You can’t be alone for Christmas,” you shake your head in disbelief, looking to him as you filch your mailbox of its contents. “Even Harry Potter had a proper Christmas in book one, and he had no family!” you protest.

Thomas frowns. “I’ve never read Harry Potter,” he says, and adds, “and I like Christmas alone.”

At this, you throw your hands in the air. “I’m sorry, but I can’t let you do that. It’s just not the __________ family way.” You sigh, and tucking your bills beneath your armpit, you add, “You’re having Christmas lunch with me.”

He raises a single eyebrow, and asks, “The __________ family way is to force people to socialise on Christmas?”

You shake your head. “My family haven’t really talked to me for years,” you laugh it off, and add, “The __________ family way is to avoid confrontation as long as possible, and then run away from it when it comes to you.”

He nods. “and you’re not like your family?”

You turn toward your car where it’s idling. If the car was a sentient object, you would expect it to be anxiously waiting for you to stop flirting with the too-handsome-for-you man. As you walk away, you call over your shoulder, “Hell yeah!”

The day after, you let the bunnies into your garden during the warmest part of the day. During the colder months, you didn’t sell produce at the markets. It was harder to garden when the earth was colder than whatever cruel God had written your life’s fate. So, the rabbits were free to take what root vegetables they could want and turn the soil over with their searching paws.

It’s then when you hear footsteps tramping their way through the forest pathway, and glancing above the fence, you see Thomas. “Hey there, neighbour,” you smile, standing to greet your guest. “Let me guess, you’re here to excuse yourself from Christmas lunch?”

He shakes his head. “No, the opposite.” He gives you a small smile. “Just making sure what time you’ll want me over?”

“How about eleven?” you suggest. It’s then you feel Benjamin nuzzle against your ankle. With a smile, you pick him up, and hold him close to your chest. “If that suits you, that is.”

Instead of answering, he asks, “How can you stand those rabbits?”

You glance at Benjamin. His winter pudge is thick this year, and he snuggles into your hands further when your hot breath touches his exposed nose. With a small smile, you look to the other rabbits; Peter, Mopsy, Flopsy and Cottontail are all investigating your potatoes, sniffing at what exposed vine they can see.

“When I was very small, I had a rabbit. Her name was Brum.” you say softly. You notice the odd look on his face, and you add, “I really liked the show when I was little. Don’t judge me, I was eight.” You look down to Benjamin once more and give him a scratch behind his ears. “I had Brum for years, honestly, but, she died the day before my parents told me they didn’t love each other anymore.”

You swallow, trying not to think of it. You’re a grown woman, and it has been years, and yet, it hurts still. Why does it hurt still?

“Anyway,” you take a deep breath, and bending, place Benjamin back upon the ground. “So, I’ll see you at eleven, next Tuesday?”

Thomas nods, and otherwise silent, he says, “See you next Tuesday.”

---

When the world warmed itself up again, so did the mischief of the rabbits. Bea shared all the stories of her family’s Christmas antics for months following the festive season, and you finally had enough money scraped together to buy yourself a replacement for your washing machine. You were happy to have it, yes, but now there was no excuse to pop on over to Thomas’ home and chat while the machine cleaned your mixed colours.

Bea was confused. “Why didn’t you use your spare key for my washing machine?” She asked, one day over tea and biscuits. Your silence was your answer, and with an understanding hum, Bea gave your back a pat, and cooed apologetically. “Oh dear,” she said, with a sigh, “I see.”

While her paintings improved with the warmer weather, your garden took itself back to life, and once again, once your crop was invigorated, back to the markets every Sunday. You had Bean at the markets the day Bea texted you furiously.

He blew up the burrow, came the first one.

And the tree hit my house!!

You were left blinking at the phone as it vibrated with every furious update, too stunned to reply. You couldn’t reply, not until you served the plethora of customers lined up for your fresh produce at the trestle table. Not until you worked your way out of the shock.

You refused to believe anything, and when you drove home in your Volkswagen, you almost stalled the car in the driveway when you saw the still-clearing dust in the air and the tree in Bea’s home. But you didn’t stall, and when you saw Thomas’s face over his fence, you pretended you didn’t see him, and drove around to your home.

Bea was waiting for you on the porch, head in her hands.

“I can’t afford the rent as it is,” she moans, tears in her eyes. “but the insurance?” You gather your friend into your arms, and together, you sit on the steps to your house in the embrace of one another. “He’s a McGregor, of course he hates the rabbits,” she whispers. “Why did I expect him to be any less?”

You’re silent. How did you ever like him? How could – how did you ever fall for him? Who blows up trees with no regard for the outcome? You hold your friend close, her head on your heart, and together, you sit there until the chill of the evening breeze tickles sense into you both. When you separate, you lead her inside for tea and comfort food, or, really, any leftovers you have.

Into her teacup, Bea whispers, “I’m going to have to move back to the city.”

You recoil, aghast. “No! No, Bea, don’t move! I don’t know what I’d do with myself if you weren’t around, honestly,” you plead. “We’ll get the money, I promise.”

She shakes her head. “It’s not just that…I don’t think I can stand to be near him after this.” She pauses, and adds, “Oh, __________, I’m so sorry. I – what are you going to do?”

You frown. “What?”

Bea places a hand on yours. “You’re in love with man,” she replies, as confused as your answer as you are with her rejoinder. “and you’re in the middle of all this.”

You shake your head, and with a curt laugh, you say, “I’m very sure that your house being hit by a blown-up tree completely outweighs my terribly judged crush.” You pour more tea into your cup, and add, “And don’t think you’re still sleeping at your place while there’s a bloody big hole in the roof. I’ve got a spare room.”

Bea makes a noise that sounds like the words thank you as she sips her tea. “What would I do without you, __________?”

You chuckle, moving to clear the table. “You’d have nobody to stop you from moving back to the city, for starters,” you retort, your words putting a little smile upon her face.

“You’re too good to me,” she says simply.

From the kitchen sink, you reply, “But that’s what friends are for!”

---

There’s a FOR SALE sign on the McGregor house not even half a week after the tree incident, and by the end of the week, Thomas has packed up and left without so much of a goodbye to any of you. Even the men in the hardware store in town who he got to know quite well say they miss him. But you saw him nigh every day, and you miss him more; more than perhaps you should or have ever let on to Bea.

But Bea can’t take living in your spare room much longer; it’s Bean months, and yet, she’s looking for a cheap place to live away from here. Any words you share aren’t enough to keep her, and anything you try and get anyone else to do isn’t enough; Betsy from the library can’t sway her, nor Mr. Johns or Mrs. Zawadzcy.

So, you do what you can only do; you let your best, and closest friend go.

You can’t stand to wave her off when the UBER arrives to take her to the train station, and instead, say your goodbyes at your gate, and take to pottering around your garden to take your mind from things. Your lettuce does need some love, and tending to it, you can’t help but think of all the almosts that this past year has entailed.

You almost bared your heart to Thomas.

You almost fell too hard for him.

You almost confessed to him about your feelings, in the months after Christmas.

You almost miss him now.

When your watch beeps upon the hour, you’re reminded that Bea’s already on her way down the road. Saddened again, you almost don’t hear a voice calling your name, and leaves crunching under foot.  

But that’s when you glance up.

You’re met with the familiar head of dark auburn hair, those green eyes. His face is a little red, hair wild, yet, he’s as handsome as ever and your stomach ties itself in knots at the sight of him. Thomas approaches the other side of your fence, wearing a fancy coat, and in his hands, is a fist full of flowers.

“Hi, Thomas,” you breathe. “What –,”

“I had to come and make things right,” the words burst from his lips, the lower one wobbling. He holds the flowers to you, and adds, softly, “I’m sorry for everything, I’m such a prick.”

You blink, accepting the bouquet of flowers. You look at the flowers, noticing that they’re the same sort of wildflowers that grow in the woods between your house and his. “Thomas – I –,” you can’t form a sentence, taking to stammering instead, “What are you doing here?”

He takes a deep breath. “I’m stupid. Incredibly. It took me a year to realise that I’m a horrible person. I’ve come back, and I hope you don’t hate me, __________.”

You consider the hand-picked bouquet. “I could never hate you, Thomas.”

There’s a small smile on his face. “Let’s start over.” He says, quickly adds, “Hello, I’m Thomas McGregor. I’m incredibly stupid when it comes to realising my feelings, and I hate Harrods.”

You can’t help but giggle.  “Hello, Thomas, I’m __________. I distance myself from people because my parents were loveless assholes and I think I’ve loved you for a whole year.”

He eyes light up. “I don’t just think I love you, __________.” He says, leaning over the fence, closer and closer with every word. “I know I love you.”

You feel your fingers loosening around the flowers Thomas gave you, and on their own accord, your hands take the lapel of his fancy coat into your fists. In the moment, your body on autopilot, your lips are on his lips, your breath mingling with his breath, and for the first time in your life, you notice the absence of the sting you’ve always felt.

“I’m sorry, that was a bit forward of me –,” you mutter, breaking away.

But Thomas shakes his head. “__________, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to kiss you,” he says. Standing straight once more, he adds, “But I meant to say, Bea’s not leaving, I’m using my inheritance to pay for the damages, and –,”

Over his shoulder, you see Bea giving you a big thumb’s up, with a wide grin. Eyes back to Thomas, you all but growl, “Oh, shut up and kiss me again,” you say. “We’ve got a year to make up for.”

[that-shamrock-vibe]

Movie Review: Christopher Robin

Disclaimer: I am posting this review a week after the movie is released in the U.K, so if you haven’t seen the movie and want to go in with a clear mind then don’t read on.

General Reaction:

This movie is such a charming and emotional nostalgia trip to everyone who has grown up with Winnie the Pooh in their lives at some point that I am now thinking Mary Poppins Returns should be very worried, more-so than the worry it should already have for facing off against Aquaman because in terms of pure Disney, Christopher Robin has won the year for me.

Right from the start with that brilliant Disney Castle logo, which by the way when the music started for said logo I found myself asking “I wonder what they’re going to do with it this time?” because it is such a staple at this point for Disney to modify each castle for each movie, but when that logo led into that ingenious opening sequence where the book basically gave us a prologue, it is my favourite Disney opening since 2016’s The Jungle Book where the movie started by zooming out from the castle into the jungle.

As I said before, it is a nostalgia trip for anyone who grew up with Winnie the Pooh old or young. I myself grew up with the films, animated serials and books of Pooh, Christopher Robin, their friends and their adventures. I may not have been as interested in those books as I was the other Disney books because they were straight forward adaptations of the films, but I still enjoyed them at the time. It is also something I hope to keep alive by telling and showing my kids if/when I have them. Winnie the Pooh for me is the symbol of pure innocence and this movie highlights that beautifully, it and he epitomize the definition of childlike wonder which is not only an appropriate message for children but, as this movie points out, an appropriate message for adults who may have lost that childlike wonder.

For that reason, this is potentially a movie that probed more brooding questions than any movie I’ve seen, including Avengers: Infinity War. Walking home from the cinema with my partner, we did have quite a deep conversation about the things that Christopher went through in this movie; growing up, entering the real working world and losing that childlike wonder so then having to find it again. Also part the way through this movie during the scene from the trailers where Christopher and Pooh are on the train, my partner turned to me and said that they showed many similarities to the two of us with him being Christopher and me being Pooh.

Yes, I will admit I have never had a 9to5 job aside from one that lasted three days and my current part-time employment is once maybe twice a month, so I have not had that childlike spark squashed out of me by the working world. That’s not to say I don’t know the harsh realities of the world but I do keep that childlike spark alive in everyday life and that keeps me positive through the hard times. For a Disney movie no less to not only bring out that realisation but provoke it is something remarkable.

This movie is very much a sucker punch of emotion right the way through; not only the opening with a young Christopher Robin leaving Pooh and his friends to go to boarding school but also the neglect he shows his daughter and his old friend when Pooh returns for his help and Pooh asks Christopher “Did you let me go?” in response to Christopher talking about his job and having to potentially fire a bunch of people.

It was a real heartstring pulling moment and so relatable to anyone who has or has had an emotional attachment to a beloved childhood toy. Again, it is I am sure part of growing up and joining the real world and reminds me of another Disney classic Bedknobs and Broomsticks and the song “The Age of Not Believing”, but the beauty of this movie is it does show how to reclaim that childhood wonder.

I also love some of the great quotes this movie had, the writing by the way was very mature for a property aimed at children, but some of these expressions are very much life lessons for kids and adults. True life isn’t always balloons and honey but in the same line of thought doing nothing can often lead to the best something. For that reason, even though the main bulk of this movie is set soon after World War II but the movie feels timeless because of the messages and themes it brings out.

Now I said Mary Poppins Returns should feel nervous after this movie, but I think the first victim of this movie is Simon Curtis’ Goodbye, Christopher Robin released in 2017 and starring Domhnall Gleeson as Winnie the Pooh author A.A. Milne which is a biographical movie akin to Saving Mr. Banks but aside from one trailer I never heard anything more about it. This movie however like I said will go down as a timeless loveable telling of a Winnie the Pooh story.

Cast:

Now this isn’t an in-depth character analysis review like my blockbuster spoiler reviews, so I will not be talking about the cast individually and rather in groups.

The star is very much definitely Ewan McGregor in the starring role as Christopher Robin, Ewan McGregor is one of those actors like Hugh Jackman who just oozes charm and charisma. You can tell he’s a nice guy in his interviews and that likeability carries over in his performances even when he’s playing a not-so-nice guy. Yes when we first meet Ewan McGregor as Christopher Robin here he is a man beaten by the real world who has lost his childlike wonder and has a steel rod up his butt, but as the movie goes on and he regains that childlike spark you can tell it isn’t forced and it just comes effortlessly to him.

The fact he acted for most of the movie on-set with toys that were anthropomorphised in post was great, in fact in an interview he had he did say that he acted with the stuffed bear in different positions to get that feel of Pooh actually being there.

It was also great to see Hayley Atwell in a different role to what I’ve seen her in before, yes, I know she can be humorous, but Peggy Carter always had a short dry humour whereas here, one of my favourite lines was her first interaction with Eeyore it just made me laugh so much.

Also, Bronte Carmichael is the first child actor in a pure Disney movie who never has a cringe moment for me. I thought the fact Madeline was Christopher’s anchor to his childhood, but she didn’t realise it was a great realistic plot-point.

Then there’s Mark Gatiss and he is a typical pantomime kid’s movie villain like Nicole Kidman in Paddington complete with bad wig. He was terrible in the role and it was interesting to see Gatiss play a pantomime villain type of character.

Now before talking about the voice cast I want to quickly talk about the technology that went into bringing Pooh and his friends from the Hundred Acre Wood to life in live-action. Firstly, there were toy versions of Pooh, Piglet, Tigger, Kanga and Roo created for the film and used in scenes involving them. Then they had a scanned virtual copy created of each toy and those versions were anthropomorphised and put into the final film. This is such a brilliant step forward in technology and also a great promotion tool by Disney because they now have exact toy replicas to sell.

Jim Cummings has of course been Winnie the Pooh since Sterling Holloway passed away as well as voicing many other characters including here Tigger. However, because Pooh and Kaa have always shared the same voice actor and both haven’t really done much to distinguish the characters apart from each other it was slightly funny in places to hear Pooh say one or two lines that I can’t think of at this moment that reminded me more of Kaa than Pooh. Also, I didn’t know Cummings voiced Tigger which shows his range as an actor.

Brad Garrett returns as Eeyore, purely because I think he, as well as Jim Cummings, are too distinct in their roles to be changed. I have always loved Eeyore, he’s always been one of my favourite characters of the bunch and the fact the character is essentially a depiction of depression makes for some rather funny lines.

Peter Capaldi is having an interesting time in these adaptations of beloved bears having also appeared in Paddington, here he voices Rabbit who I always saw either as a female or a very effeminate if not outright closeted LGBT character. Now that’s not to say he has to be effeminate to also be LGBT but how he was always depicted in animation was always angling that way. But Capaldi made his voice almost unrecognizable while still keeping Rabbit’s iconic eccentricities.

Toby Jones was quite an interesting choice for Owl, Owl was always depicted as the old and wise member of the group and that to me does not equate to Toby Jones, but I was overall happy with his voicework and it didn’t take me out of the movie.

Nick Mohammed was the only voice that didn’t fit for me as Piglet, the voice felt a little bit too forced to try and be the timid and nerve-wrecked sidekick that Pooh is the older brother/father figure to. Again, it wasn’t enough to take me out of the movie and I did enjoy his character, but it just didn’t click for me like it did with the others.

Kanga and Roo were the only two who weren’t that well developed for me but in a cast focusing on 11 characters there’s always bound to be one or two that get left in the background and Roo at least did get some good lines it just wasn’t enough to stand out amongst the crowd.

Recommendation:

This is a movie to be seen and enjoyed by everyone of every age. If you are in the generations who have grown up with the A.A. Milne stories or the Disney animated adaptations, then you will enjoy the nostalgia trip. If you are bringing infants who are being introduced to Winnie the Pooh for the first time I do think it is a great place to start. As I said this is something I hope to show my kids if/when I have them just as I hope they enjoy growing up with Winnie the Pooh and the adventures of the Hundred Acre Wood just as I and many others have done.

Overall I rate this movie a solid 9/10, it was a real feel good movie and something I recommend everyone to see who has maybe lost that childlike wonder in their lives because hopefully this will help them find it again.

So that’s my review of Christopher Robin what did you guys think? Post your comments and check out more Disney Movie Reviews as well as other Movie Reviews and posts.

[cosleia]

Wait Until the Walls Come Down

~2000 words, kylux, His Fertile Soil AU, rated hmmm M I guess. Inspired by the Peter Rabbit trailer.

It’s late by the time Hux makes it home to the farmhouse. He’s so exhausted that he barely manages to trudge up the front steps. It’s not physical exhaustion, he tells himself; it’s all in his head, but somehow that doesn’t make putting one foot in front of the other any easier.

He fumbles for his keys in the pocket of his jeans, tighter than the overalls he’s grown accustomed to wearing. Everything about today is wrong, and he’s ready for it to be over. Ready to get back to…

The front door swings wide as soon as the key touches the lock. The door is already open.

Inside, it looks like there’s been a controlled explosion.

He put drop cloths on the furniture before he left, and those are mercifully still in place. But one of the end tables is on its side, and there’s a trail of...something...running in a messy path from the door to the kitchen. Whatever it is, it looks sticky. The pastoral painting he inherited along with the house hangs crookedly, precariously from its spot over the fireplace. Something viscous seems to have been sprayed over one wall, leaving thick, dripping splotches across the wallpaper, curtains, and windows. Somehow, Hux finds himself fixated on his bookshelf, where he can tell books have been taken down, flipped through, and placed back all wrong, out of order, not flush with each other but poking out haphazardly.

Slowly, he sinks down onto the couch. His home is supposed to be his sanctuary. This home is the only place he has, now. But like everything else, it’s been destroyed.

It’s just like…

Hux closes his eyes.

He was on top of the world, once. His decisions affected millions. He made people, and he destroyed people. He’s just spent a week revisiting that life, pretending he still belonged there, affecting the mask of calm superiority that served him well throughout his meteoric rise. But simmering just below the surface was the knowledge that he was done. This was all over.

He’s not the best. He’s not the authority. He’s not the man he was, the man hailed in Businessweek and Fortune and Time as an agent of change, the man EQ had dubbed “the general.” He’s not Armitage Hux anymore. Not since Starkiller.

And now it’s just like that night, it’s just like when Starkiller was destroyed and Hux came home to find his apartment had been practically looted by his boyfriend---his former boyfriend, as of the announcement, because as soon as he’d heard, Thanisson had called his friends, packed up nearly everything of value in Hux’s apartment, and disappeared.

Because Hux didn’t deserve loyalty. Not after such a spectacular failure.

And he still doesn’t.

He’s been a fool.

Out of the corner of his eye, Hux slowly becomes aware that the drop cloth is moving, rising upward in the vague shape of a body. Numbly, he curls fingers in the cloth and tugs it away.

And then he screams.

Ren screams too---because it is Ren, he knows it is, even though he’s unrecognizable in a mask that completely covers his head, a mask with large, shining black eyes and a pink nose and long white whiskers and big floppy ears, a mask covered in what looks like real rabbit fur.

Hux keeps screaming.

“Shit,” Ren finally says, and he reaches up to pull off the mask, but it’s difficult due to the boxing-glove size rabbit paws on his hands. He scrabbles about for a bit and finally wrenches the thing away. “I thought you weren’t coming back till tomorrow.”

Hux realizes he has stood up from the couch, and then he realizes he’s still screaming. He closes his mouth.

“I’m sorry,” Ren says quickly. He stands up, but when Hux recoils, he steps back. “I---it was going to be a surprise.”

“The--the mess?” Hux manages. He’s hugging himself around the middle and his legs are shaking so hard he’s afraid he’s going to fall.

“The new costume,” Ren says, big rabbit hands going to his hips, and Hux sees that the rest of the costume is just as richly detailed as the head. “Come on, I wouldn’t do this on purpose. I was going to clean it up before you got home, but I fell asleep.” Ren glances away, looking embarrassed. “The costume is really cozy.”

“Is that so,” Hux says. He turns away from Ren and stares at his bookcase instead. Nothing is missing. Nothing is missing. It’s just a mess. It’s just a mess.

He’s completely out of control here, too. Ren could take everything from him whenever he wanted.

Now Hux does fall, slumping to the floor. His eyes go out of focus.

“Mc---Far---Hux.” Ren’s voice is distant. He’s stammering like he doesn’t know what to call Hux. “Armitage?”

Hux’s eyes come back into focus. Ren’s face is right in front of his, and his expression is the worst thing Hux has ever seen. He wants to tell Ren not to call him by that name, but he doesn’t know what name Ren should use instead.

“Armitage,” Ren says again. Hux shakes his head. “Hux?” There’s a dull ache at that name, but not as bad, so Hux doesn’t protest. “Hux,” Ren says again. “I’m sorry. I promise I’ll clean everything up. I promise.”

“It’s fine,” Hux says, barely aware of his own words. “Everything’s fine.”

“It was supposed to be a nice surprise for you, but I didn’t finish in time. I was going to make dinner for tomorrow. I tried to bring supplies in while wearing the suit. I---the Easter Bunny wanted to surprise Farmer McGregor.”

“It’s fine,” Hux says again.

“I’m sorry,” Ren says. “Do you want me to help you up to bed? Whatever you want. I’ll stay and clean, or I’ll leave. Whatever you want.”

Hux has the feeling he should be comforted by this, but he isn’t. He wants to… “Leave,” he says.

“I...okay,” Ren says. “I’ll go.”

That’s not right. Hux catches Ren’s arm before he can rise to his feet. The fur is so, so soft. “I want to leave,” he clarifies. “I don’t...want to be here.”

Ren looks at him, that horrible kindly look, and then he’s pulling Hux to his chest in a tight embrace. “Okay,” Ren says. “I’ll take you to my burrow.”

Something seems wrong about that, too, but Hux can’t think of what it is. He follows as Ren moves past the couch, picking up the rabbit head, and then toward the door, bending down to retrieve Hux’s luggage.

Ren drives a sleek black pickup truck with red detailing. It’s nearly invisible in the darkness, but Ren finds it easily, parked at the edge of the driveway near a stand of trees. After he removes his giant bunny paws, he raises a panel in the bed to reveal a fancy storage compartment; there he stows the luggage, paws, and rabbit head before helping Hux up into the passenger seat.

They drive in silence, the truck bumping down the gravel drive and then along the winding roads leading into town. It isn’t until they’ve passed through downtown and turned onto First Avenue that Hux remembers where they’re going.

“Snoke,” he says. He can’t seem to put together an actual sentence.

“Mr. Snoke won’t mind,” Ren says, glancing over at Hux. He doesn’t sound certain of this.

“Just---just take me back to the farmhouse,” Hux says. “Or no. Not there. A hotel.”

He’s hiding. He’s hiding from some harmless old man. He’s become such a coward.

“Wait,” Hux says. “No.”

Ren pulls the truck off to the side of the road. Gravel crunches beneath the tires as he pulls to a stop and puts it in park. “Hux,” he says, turning fully to look at him, “it’ll be okay. Let me take you to my burrow. Let me take care of you.”

“Jesus,” Hux huffs softly, exasperated with himself. He crosses his arms. “Yes. Okay.”

It only takes a few more minutes to get to Jim Snoke’s sprawling estate. Ren parks the truck under a carport attached to an outbuilding in back of the house. “My workshop,” he explains, gesturing at the building.

“Workshop?” Hux asks stupidly as he slides out of the cab.

Ren slams his door and circles the truck, going for the storage compartment. “Yeah. For when there’s something I need room to fix. Can’t do it in the house.”

“Do you take care of this whole place?”

Ren gives him a sheepish smile. “I try to. But it’s big. I haven’t gotten to everything yet.”

Hux hasn’t been out this way since before Ren moved in, but he remembers Snoke’s place being fairly run down: paint peeling, gutters loose, lawn unkempt. This explains what Ren is doing here, a question Hux hadn’t thought to ask in the beginning and was embarrassed to as more and more time passed.

“Let’s hurry,” Ren says in a whisper. “I don’t want Mr. Snoke seeing me in this.” He glances nervously down at the hyperrealistic bunny suit, at the comfortably fat tummy and the big rabbit feet.

Hux feels a pang. He reaches out with one hand and laces his fingers into Ren’s, and they stride toward the house hand in hand.

Snoke’s house---”manor” would perhaps be a better word---is not only large but old. Old enough that there is a servants’ staircase leading up to servants’ quarters. Ren leads Hux through the kitchen door at the back of the house and then through the pantry to that staircase, and they work their way up three flights of narrow stairs before finally emerging in the attic.

“My burrow,” Ren says softly but proudly as he flips on the light.

It likely wasn’t a very comfortable space for servants to share, but for one person, it’s a fairly large room. Unlike the rest of the house, this room has no fancy furniture or period wallpaper---nor would it have when it was first occupied, Hux supposes. The overhead light isn’t original, either, he thinks; even if there had been electric lights in the house, they wouldn’t have been installed in servants’ quarters.

There is a large futon at the center of the room, piled high with blankets and pillows. A chest of drawers with a mirror sits along one wall, and there’s a trunk at the foot of the bed. All of Ren’s furniture looks like it came from IKEA.

“Mr. Snoke let me update this room. It’s not exactly historic preservation in here,” Ren says. “I put in a bathroom so I wouldn’t have to go downstairs for a shower.”

Hux hadn’t thought Ren did much beyond basic repairs. “I didn’t know you did plumbing work.”

“I have many skills,” Ren says with a grin. He pauses halfway through unfastening his bunny suit. “Are you feeling better?”

“...yes,” Hux realizes, sitting on the bed. “This...this is nice.”

Ren sits next to him, the soft fur of his suit brushing against the back of Hux’s hand. “Good,” he says. “Do you need anything? Feel free to wash up and change, whatever.”

Hux doesn’t really want to think right now. He twists at the waist, reaching out to trail both hands down Ren’s shoulders and arms, focusing on the smooth, comforting texture of the fur. “This really is an impressive suit,” he says instead of answering.

“Was--was the head too much?” Ren asks.

Hux sighs, then sucks his lower lip between his teeth. “I think I was just surprised,” he says finally. “We can---try it, when I’m McGregor.”

Delight blossoms across Ren’s face. Hux leans in and kisses his ridiculous grin. When he pulls away long moments later, Ren’s eyes have gone black and his lips are flushed. “Would you,” he begins, then swallows, licks his lips, and starts again, “Would you want to be McGregor now?”

Shrugging off the blue blazer that belongs to someone else, someone different, someone forgettable, Farmer McGregor smiles lazily and says, “Well what d’ya know, I reckon I do.”

In the morning, Armitage Hux will still be there, miserable, curled in upon himself beneath the Farmer McGregor veneer. In the morning, the farmhouse will still be a wreck, and so will Armitage Hux’s life.

(In the morning, Jim Snoke will catch them sneaking out the back door, and words will be exchanged about “propriety.”)

But now, tonight, cozy in the Easter Bunny’s burrow, Farmer McGregor plants his face into the mattress, pushes his bare ass high in the air, and waits to be plowed.

[screenandcinema]

Coming Attractions November 2019

As usual, we present monthly previews of new movies being released. These are the movies what will be hitting your local cinemas this month:

November 1st

Terminator: Dark Fate - In 1984, it was promised “I’ll be back” and then in 1991 that promise was delivered on. Then again in 2003, 2009, 2015 and now 2019. The Terminator franchise has been struggling to survive termination for some time now. James Cameron who co-wrote and directed the first two installments and missed out on the last three is back as a producer to hopefully return Terminator to its former glory. Terminator: Dark Fate posits itself as a direct sequel to 1991′s Terminator 2: Judgement Day and attempts to ignore the non-Cameron installments. Word is that Dark Fate is set to launch a new trilogy of films, which is exactly what was said about 2009′s Terminator Salvation and 2015′s Terminator Genisys, neither did, of course. Maybe Dark Fate will mark a path forward for Terminator or just another disappointment at the box office which will lead to another inevitable attempt to relaunch the franchise sometime in the next few years.

Motherless Brooklyn - Edward Norton writes, directs, and stars in this adaptation of a novel of the same name. Motherless Brooklyn marks Norton’s first time behind the camera since directing one of my personal favorites 2000′s Keeping the Faith. Bruce Willis, Gug Mbatha-Raw, Alec Baldwin, Willem Dafoe, and Bobby Cannavale co-star alongside Norton in this noir-esque film about a private investigator in 1950s New York with Tourette syndrome.

Harriet - Cynthia Erivo of Widows and Bad Times at the El Royale stars as Harriet Tubman in this upcoming biopic. The film premiered at the Toronto International Film Festival to generally favorable reviews with a heavy-share of praise falling on Erivo’s performance of the heroic abolitionist. Leslie Odom Jr. and Janelle Monáe costar.

The Irishman - Opening in limited release today and coming to Netflix on November 27th is Martin Scorsese crime epic The Irishman starring Robert De Niro, Al Pacino, and Joe Pesci. Clocking in at almost three-and-a-half hours long this is one movie you will probably be happy to watch at home with the remote and pause button nearby.

November 8th

Midway - Disaster-artist Roland Emmerich (Independence Day) directs this upcoming war film just in time for Veterans Day weekend. While Michael Bay’s 2001 film Pearl Harbor told the story of the attack on Pearl Harbor and the Doolittle Raid that followed, Midway not only revisits Pearl Harbor and the Doolittle Raid but extends the story to - you guessed it - the Battle of Midway. And it is 45 minutes shorter than Bay’s epic. So you get an extra battle in less time. Not too shabby.

Doctor Sleep - Ewan McGregor stars as the adult Dan Torrance (he no longer goes by Danny) in this adaptation of the novel of the same name by Stephen King which itself was a sequel to his novel The Shining. According to director Mike Flanagan, the film acts as both an adaptation of the novel as well as a sequel to Stanley Kubrick’s 1980 adaptation of King’s The Shining. Okay, so to recap. Doctor Sleep is a movie based on a book that is a sequel to a book that was adapted into a famous movie and this movie is sort of a sequel to that too. 

Last Christmas - Paul Feig directs this romantic holiday comedy starring Emilia Clarke and Henry Golding. Everything tells me that is a giant twist in this movie that will either make or break the film for people. Now all I can do is wait and see. (I THINK SOMEONE IS A GHOST)

Honey Boy - If the Dark Fate and Doctor Sleep explanations weren’t confusing enough, try this one. Honey Boy, written by Shia LaBeouf, is the story of a child actor’s difficult relationship with his father and is based on LeBeouf’s own life with LeBeouf starring in the film, not as the child actor, but instead as his own father. Honey Boy premiered at Sundance earlier this year to rave reviews. Get excited Even Stevens fans.

November 15th

Ford v Ferrari - My highlight of November has to be James Mangold’s Ford v Ferrari starring Matt Damon and Christian Bale. Ford v Ferrari tells the true story of how the Ford Motor Company worked tirelessly to compete with perennial winner Ferrari at the 24 Hours of Le Mans - one of the most prestigious automobile races in the world - in 1966. So excited to see this one in theaters.

Charlie’s Angels - Hello Angels. As the theme has been this month, bear with me. Apparently, this newest installment of the Charlie’s Angels franchise is a continuation of both the 1976 television series that aired on ABC for seasons and the two feature films of the early-aughts starring Cameron Diaz, Drew Barrymore, and Lucy Liu. But unconnected to the 2011′s ABC series that was canceled after four episodes aired. Elizabeth Banks writes, directs, and stars in this adaptation as one of the film’s three Bosleys with Kristen Stewart, Naomi Scott, and Ella Balinska as the titular Angels who are trying to save the world, I assume.

The Good Liar - Helen Mirren and Ian McKellen star in this thriller revolving around a seasoned conman and his latest prey. Bill Condon, who previously worked with McKellen in both 2015′s Mr. Holmes and 2017′s Beauty and the Beast directs this adaptation of a novel of the same name.

The Report  - Adam Driver stars in this real-life drama about the investigation into the CIA’s use of torture following the September 11th attacks. The film will begin streaming Amazon Prime on November 29th.

November 22nd

Frozen II - Finally, the sequel to the breakout hit of 2013 is here. The first film, Frozen, went on to the highest-grossing film of 2013 (beating Iron Man 3) and held the title of the highest-grossing animated film of all-time until it was dethroned this summer by The Lion King, not too mention the winner of two Academy Awards. And now six years later, Elsa, Anna, Olaf, Kristoff, and of course Sven, are back for a new adventure that will likely involve snow, ice, and saving Arendelle again. Count me in.

A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood - Tom Hanks stars at Fred Rogers in the biopic co-starring Matthew Rhys as a reporter sent to interview the famed children’s show host. I honestly don’t remember watching Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood as a kid even though new episodes of the show were produced until I was well into high school, but I’d watch Tom Hanks in almost anything. A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood premiered at the Toronto International Film Festival in September to near-universal acclaim

21 Bridges - Mark my words, Chadwick Boseman’s “We got twenty-one bridges in and out of Manhattan. Shut them down. Three rivers. Close them. Four tunnels. Block them. Stop every train and loop the subways. Then we flood the island with blue” speech in this upcoming action thriller will soon be as iconic as Tommy Lee Jones’s similar speech from The Fugitive.

November 27th

Knives Out - Rian Johnson writes and directs this whodunit starring the ensemble cast of Daniel Craig, Chris Evans, Ana de Armas (Blade Runner 2049), Jamie Lee Curtis, Michael Shannon, Don Johnson, Toni Collette, Lakeith Stanfield, and Christopher Plummer. If that isn’t enough to get you to buy a ticket, I don’t know what it is.

Queen & Slim - Melina Matsoukas makes her feature film debut in this romantic thriller with a script from Emmy winner Lena Waithe (Master of None). In Queen & Slim, an unfortunate run-in with the police on their first date puts the  titular couple, played by Daniel Kaluuya and Jodie Turner-Smith, on a Bonnie and Clyde-esque journey.

Now for a quick look ahead to December, my top picks for next month are Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker, 1917, and Jumanji: The Next Level.

-MB-

[margsld]

Outlander Epi 3.02 Recap

Surrender your link to a decent Barber for 6 years....

This week’s cracking episode is written by Anne Kenney.  It jumps between the two centuries quite a bit, so stick with me.

With Jamie back from Culloden and red coats on the prowl, Jamie’s having to hide in a cave. Local gossipers assure the red coat patrols that Red Jamie is in the area and also a weird guy going by the name of the Dun Bonnet. (The Dun Bonnet is a real tale of a Jacobite who hid his flaming red hair under a hat as a way of ye olde camouflage.)  It doesn’t work quite so well with our hero as you’ll soon find out watching this episode.

Lallybroch is always a symbol of home and there is nothing more domestic than seeing the kids playing outside the house.  Fergus, Rabbie McNab and wee Jamie Murray are heading to the Doo Cot (Dove Housing facility) to try to locate a pistol that Ian Murray had stashed there after Culloden.  The boys find it and as boys do, boast about their wartime frivolities and other boyish bullshite.  Redcoats take that opportunity to arrive for a quick raid so they hustle the gun back to its hiding position and go to see what’s amiss at the house. Captain Samual Lewis of his Majesty’s 10th Dragoons says he’s looking for Ian’s brother-in-law aka Jamie Fraser, aka Red Jamie, aka Dun Bonnet, aka not here, we swear it. They threaten to hang anyone who harbours a traitor.  He also offers a reward but they all plead ignorance.  Fergus winds up the nearest nasty red coat Corporal McGregor, as they whisk Ian Murray away under arrest.  That’s not ominous at all, is it?

Speaking of looking for needles in a haystack, we then catch up with the human haystack of red hair, the Dun Bonnet himself.  He’s a graduate of Catniss Everdeen’s school of Archery and makes short work of a big stag that he’s nicknamed Frank for some reason.

Arriving back at Lallybroch with his kill, he mistakens Jenny for dream Claire.  Jenny scolds him for being creepy.  Amen sister, grab some scissors ay?  He dumps the enormous carcass for butchering, a symbol of his current level of happy as Jenny carries on telling him the daily news; Ian’s been arrested again, Mrs McNab needs servicing etc.  Fergus wants to butcher the deer then the whole red coat garrison but we all know that won’t work.  Kids!  Jamie is intent on making venison steaks and continues his mute party of one.  Frustrating sibling moment.

Claire is having her own party of one back in Boston.  She is fantasising about a giant fuzzy peach and practising her yoga breathing skills so as not to wake a hard working Frank.  She is so thoughtful.

Baby Bree is learning to roll over like a good puppy while Claire catches up on her bible, The Globe.  Ireland has become a republic, free of British rule.  This is a nice nod to Caitriona being Irish and also a kick that Scotland still hasn’t reached this milestone, aka Culloden failed reminder.  Frank, wrapped in just a towel( interrupted showering by a dodgy boiler ) comes to see his clever daughter playing puppy and the three have a sweet family moment.  Claire is turned on by his nudie run and wishes that towel didn’t just accidentally fall to the floor on his way to fix the boiler.  Didn’t we all.  Just a week peek at that lilly white butt, cmon!

Skulking is Jamies new skill and he tip-toes through the woods to his hidey-hole when Fergus drops in for a cuppa and wee chat about how to use this silly pistol. Fergus is deluded that he can protect all of Lallybroch with it and Milord is not happy.  Fergus accuses him of being a coward and Jamie tells him no more fighting.  To keep an eye on things, Jamie pops into check out the ledgers at Lallybroch and Mary McNab hopes this is cave-speak for “Lets go on a date” but they are sidetracked when Jamie hears Jenny screaming from the house.  Dinna fash, the latest bairn is coming early. 

The wee neds, Fergus, Rabbie and wee Jamie spot a messenger of death - a Raven and go and get the pistol to dispatch it back to a Game of Thrones set.  Completely forgetting all reason and the fact that nearby red coats have ears, they shoot the bird.  Jamie is so cross it makes him actually speak and Mary pops in as she so annoyingly does this whole episode to announce the baby is fine and takes the gun.  She scolds them for what is probably the millionth time.

Jenny loves seeing a baby in Jamie’s arms and it reminds her he is practically a virgin again.  She downloads the Lallybroch Tinder app and creates him a profile under the handle Cave-dwelling Dun Bonnet.  Red coats arrive of course, to search for the weapon in the house.  Jamie has the baby and quickly hides in a spare room. Yes, its odd they didn’t check that room but testosterone. They question Jenny, still in her post-birth glow and tear the room apart.  She lies to them about the baby dying when it’s missing from the room and they demand to see the body.  Mary who is channelling a missing Murtagh or McGyver, pops up again to save the day and hands the pistol over, confessing it was her dead husband’s and she was killing the blasted Raven.  Happy they had the pistol at last, the red coats leave.  Jamie returns the baby to his mum with a big sad face again.  (Fun Fact: Laura O’Donnelly used her own newborn in this scene so that is why the breastfeeding is so real!)  Nice touch.  Jamie is finding all this red coat business a bit of an annoyance and Jenny says this new Captain won’t give up till he’s hanging from a noose.   

Claire is still on the high speed train to Hornsville and decides she misses her husband. Which one, Claire?  Hmmmm?  She wakes Frank who, like a good M16 agent is ready 24/7 for action but misses her ambiguous husband reference and dutifully lets her ride his pony.  Sharing is caring. Giddyup Claire.

The Redcoats finally return Ian Murray back to Lallybroch like a sack of spuds and he ignores their repeated requests to turn over Jamie and tedious threats of getting his whole family by saying “It’s been a lovely visit gentlemen” and heads inside to meet his new son. 

Fergus watching on, decides to take matters into his own hands (no pun intended but it works for me, if it works for you) leads them on a wild goose chase tour of Lallybroch estate.  He confronts them and taunts them that he’s far superior to them and the music turns ominious and most know bad things are coming next.  They chase him and he taunts them continuously.  Jamie is checking his traps and hears them but can’t reveal his position to help. He quietly pleads for Fergus to stop taunting and watches the next bit unfold in horror with the rest of us.  *hides behind cushions/hands/whisky glass  The red coats corner Fergus and Mr Meany Pants McGregor, hell bent on blood lust, lops off Fergus’s tiny left hand.  Its excruciatingly real to watch and we are all glad not to have lived through those times.

The red coats leave Fergus alone to bleed out and Jamie swoops down to stem the blood flow with a torniquay belt, just like Claire showed him many times.  Just for fun.  Or maybe not.  I digress. 

He whisks poor Fergus back to Lallybroch where Jenny praises him for saving him.  He feels guilty though and loses his shit, ugly crying all over Jenny like there’s no tomorrow. 

Later, when he gains back some grumpiness, he visits Fergus to remind him that there is something left to fight for.  Fergus sees his old Milord back and hope has returned to Lallybroch again.  Fergus is relieved by the promise Jamie made him in Paris that if he ever lost a hand in his service, then Jamie would provide for him for the rest of his life.  He has in one swipe become a man of leisure.

Meanwhile....

Frank and Claire are busy entertaining Jerry and Millie from next door.  They introduce them to the delights of Eton Mess and how to kill a bottle.  This show is so brutal. Poor bottle.  RIP Wine.  After, Claire is in the mood for much more than a nightcap and entices Frank to the carpet before the fire.  Frank isn’t one for being swept up in the moment and questions Claire mid-thrust as to why she isn’t looking at him.  He cruelly stops before Claire can get to orgasm and he tells her “When i’m with you, i’m with you but you are with him”.  Like that’s such a bad thing Frank!  Not the best end to a fun night. Silly relationship etiquette.

Ian explains the downside of losing a limb to Jamie.  He tells Jamie the pain of losing a part of you that’s lost. Claire was his heart.  Jamie realises that he’ll never get over Claire like Ian and Fergus will never get their limbs back. Jamie also notices the slashed Fraser crest which was a result of a recent red coat raid.  He knows they will never stop wanting him as he’ll never stop wanting Claire.

At first Jenny is not happy with Jamie’s idea to turn himself in but they are all tired of the red coat dangers and his lack of grooming.  With the thought of having the reward to help them survive, de-stink the house and Jamie in a nicer prison not hung, they agree to go ahead with the set up.  Sounds easy, right?

Mrs McNab has an itch to scratch before Jamie gets sent to Ardsmuir resort and turns up to give Jamie his last supper in the cave.  And by supper she means a good hair cut and shave - Hallelujah, Angels sing!!!  He pops down the stream to wash and comes back to find her in her shift and he’s no dummy when it comes to women in shifts and presumes that Jenny set this up.  Mary rejects his theory and says she wants a hot scot in her cot and it’ll maybe see him through a few years in prison.  Everyone knows you don’t get sex in prison, right?  Jamie confesses it’s been a while between drinks and she’s gentle about it, mopping up his tear for his long gone wife.  Must be emotional having women throwing themselves at you all the time.  Plus everyone looks shaggable by cavelight. 

Claire decides it’s time to do something more to make her feel whole.  She missed lancing festering boils and so decided to become a surgeon.  She arrives for her first day in Anatomy class and of course scores a chauvinistic, racist lecturer who declares having her and a negro make them very modern.  Other students arrive and give her the cold shoulder like she just gave Season 8 spoilers to Game of Thrones.  In walks the ‘negro’ and he takes a seat beside Claire.  He introduces himself as Joe Abernethy and they instantly connect.  I love him already too.

Bree has decided to help her parents marriage by sending cryptic messages through her toy bunny but likes to mix things up, by hiding said bunny first.  Agent Frank is all over this new kid-code but Claire just chalks it up to childhood and goes to bed.  The camera pans back and to my horror we see they are now sleeping in single beds.  Flatmates.  Ugh.  Ring the marriage-is-dead alarm. Oh boy.  Goodnight indeed.

Jamie arrives at Lallybroch and pretends he has arrived home.  The red coats leap out of hiding and he pretends to be furious and shocked with Jenny.  Jenny’s heart breaks visibly, as do ours as she plays along, receiving her reward money.  Jamie is chucked in the prison cart like sack of dirty laundry.  Which he is because, Cave dwelling is not for the fainthearted and Lynx commercials.

Claire is out walking and comes across a busking piper piping a familiar Scottish tune and she can’t walk past without giving him some money.  I could have sworn she mumbled something about “giving him more if he was wearing a kilt” but I could be wrong.

The end.