#I want to know if this is a me problem or if others experience this

[bee-whistler]

The challenge here is that we can write them, but even with extensive research, you feel like you’re appropriating, y’know? I can write about ADHD and Autism, because I have those. I can write about back problems, neck problems, astigmatism, because I have them. I don’t feel so weird writing about someone with Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome, or Mast Cell Activation Syndrome, because my daughter has those.

But even with research, I feel like I can’t make a main character out of anyone with a fundamental difference from me, such as health issues, skin color, sexual orientation, etc, unless I keep the insights super general. Say, life including a black family in your set of main characters, but all their traits and experiences are things that could happen to anyone because��� they could happen to anyone!

But is that enough, when it’s something that affects your daily life? Your health, your skin color, your orientation, your income… they can define how any situation lands.

I dunno, is there some resource for this kind of thing? Because even reading up on it is not living with it. I don’t do more than unpublished comics and fanfics currently, but I want to be inclusive, and I know others do, too. Inclusive, but natural. Just people as people are, irl, not one of these “look how disabled I am!” or “look how gay we are!” kinds of stories. Just people, with their many variations, interacting.

I guess… I’d like y’all to make sure that YOU write about it, too. Because you know it best of all. And then we can learn what it takes to craft those characters for you to read about. Because we’re willing. We just feel like we’ll step on some toes.

we Need more characters in media who are disabled just because their body did that. having disabled characters at all is so rare and usually they were injured in some disaster and they Should still exist but like !! as someone who slowly became disabled for no apparent reason. i want character like me, too

[sanguineterrain]

"they're giving me a few minutes to try and talk some sense into you." With Jason? As either the speaker or the one being spoken to? 🙏

This one was a thinker to come up with an idea for but it was fun to write!!

jason todd x gn!reader. reader is a civilian turned rogue from experimentation and is jason's ex. reader has poison ivy-esque abilities. tw violence, threats, angry reader who tries to hurt jason. happy ending.

****

You've lost count of the days. You're not even sure where they're keeping you. It's a cell, but it's not in an asylum. It's not in a prison either.

Wherever it is, it makes your teeth itch. You haven't seen another human since you got caught. Once, someone tried to leave you food through a slot in the door, but you messed that up by grabbing their hand and trying to claw them.

So now the food trays get dropped from the ceiling. You're too weak to attempt any crawling ivy up there.

You're sitting against the wall dozing when the door slides open with a quiet chirp.

Jason Todd walks in, dressed like a civilian. He looks comfortable in his Gotham U sweatshirt and jeans, but you know better. You see the small blade in his pocket and the way he sets his shoulders. You knew him too well and for too long to think that this is a regular visit.

Still, you're shocked to see him. After all, he broke up with you.

"Well, this is special," you say, unable to keep the bitterness from your words. "Am I finally being interrogated?"

Jason looks at you mildly. "They let me have a few minutes to talk some sense into you."

You scoff. "They sent you to do that?"

He's quiet for a moment. Then he walks over and sits across from you, on the floor. He crosses his legs.

You can touch him from this distance. Hurt him.

"I can help," Jason says. "If you'd let me."

"Is that Batman I hear coming out of your mouth?"

That renders him silent. You take the chance to speak, drive the knife into his gut.

"So I wasn't enough to stay for before, but as soon as I cause a little trouble, get experimented on and become a real threat, you come running? Was my old self too boring for you?"

"You didn't bore me. You know that's not why we broke up."

"I don't know, actually," you snap. "You dropped off the face of the earth one day and now you're here."

Jason shakes his head. "I know. I'm sorry. I should've—you deserved better than me. I thought I was doing you a favor by leaving."

"Oh, God, you're a cliche!" You throw your head back and laugh, the sound hollow. "Don't give me that martyr bullshit. We were happy. You were a coward."

"I was," he says. "I was cowardly and selfish and stupid."

Your eye twitches. Jason's softness rankles you. What happened to the Red Hood who beats rogues into submission? Talking sense wouldn't mean an actual conversation.

Then again, Jason probably doesn't take you seriously. He only remembers you as the harmless civilian that would tend to his bruises and make him eggs in the morning. He didn't see you break out of a lab or destroy everything in your path until Batman restrained you.

He thinks you're good. Gentle. Easy to love. You'll prove him wrong.

"I could've killed if I wanted to," you say. "Did you see what I did to Dick? I did a lot of damage."

"I saw," Jason says, leaning back on his hands.

You grit your teeth. "Well, I'm sure he'd prefer me locked up. Bruce, too. And you. Two problems solved in one."

"No one wants to lock you up. Anyway, I wouldn't let 'em. I know how to recognize someone in need of a second chance."

That pushes you over the edge, referring to you like you're just a common thief on the street in need of mercy. You don't need anyone's mercy, least of all his.

You lash out, savagely bracing your arm and aiming for Jason's throat. He feints your attack and catches you both, landing on his back on the floor. You just as quickly wrap your other hand around his throat.

Your powers are weak in this cell after they injected you with something that burned, made the hatred inside of you shrivel up for a brief respite. In this weakened state, you have to make skin contact to inflict any real damage, and Jason knows that. Jason's beyond smart enough to figure out how your abilities work.

You manage to push out a single vine from your hand. It's a little brown, a little dead, but it's strong enough to curl around Jason's neck and hold on.

You hear noise outside, a muffled shout of alarm. Jason raises a hand calmly, signalling them to back off. You feel him swallow against your vine.

"'S okay," he says, loud enough to carry outside of the cell, steadily looking at you. "We're just talkin'."

"Is that what we're doing, Jason?" you ask, rage tunneling your vision.

"Sure it is. If I say we're talking, then we are."

"Even if I hurt you?" you snarl. "I'm a criminal. I went crazy. That's why they put me here."

Slowly, Jason rests a hand on the middle of your spine. It's warm and solid. Your stomach jumps at the feeling. It's been so long since he's touched you. It used to be your normal, Jason touching you, holding you, sharing your bed.

"You're not a criminal and you're not crazy," he says softly. "You're in pain, and you're angry, and this feels like your last resort."

Something cracks in your chest. The day you said those words to Jason rushes back to you. It had been raining and you'd found him on your fire escape, helmet off, eyes thick with tears. He hadn't been able to go through with his plan for Bruce.

"Why don't you use the knife in your pocket?" you ask. He could sever your vine at the root. It would sting and make you cry. He could make you weak.

"'Cause I don't wanna hurt you," Jason says. "If this is what you need to feel in control, so be it."

Your grip tightens. Jason grunts and rubs his hand up and down your spine. His other hand goes to your hip and squeezes.

"I can hurt you," you say, trying to believe it.

Jason nods. "That's okay, baby. It'll heal."

Tears spring to your eyes and you close them. "Don't call me that. You left me."

"I'm sorry. It's the worst mistake I ever made."

More tears pool. Your voice shakes. "They did awful experiments. They—I'm not normal anymore. An' I'm so angry."

"I know, sweetheart," he murmurs. "I know. 'M so fuckin' sorry. I'll kill 'em. When I find 'em, I'll hunt down every single one that did this to you."

"You just came back because I'm a case to solve," you say. Your vine is slipping. You want Jason to hold you instead.

"I came back because I missed you and because I wanna help you. It was a mistake to leave."

"What if this is how I am? Permanently?" you whisper. It's been in your head since you were lucid enough to realize what they did to you in that lab. What your attackers called a blessing feels more like a curse. And it might not ever go away.

"Then we'll go on from there," Jason says. His hand goes from your hip to your face. He strokes your cheek.

"Just like that?"

"Just like that."

Your vine thins out and slackens completely. Tiny, red flowers bloom as Jason pets you. You quickly retract the vine, hot with embarrassment.

Jason graciously doesn't say anything about it.

"I wanna go home," you confess.

Jason nods. "I got you. Let's go home."

[swappermanent]

Freckles

Being a closeted trans guy isn’t easy for anyone these days. Trust me, I’ve got the scars—metaphorical ones, at least—to prove it. But when it comes to my family, the challenge isn’t what you might expect. They’re not exactly waving rainbow flags at every Pride parade, but they’re not storming drag shows with pitchforks either. They’re comfortably, frustratingly middle-of-the-road when it comes to identity politics. You know the type—“We support you as long as it’s not too inconvenient.”

So, no, the problem isn’t their politics. The problem is the Elber Family Reunion Swap.

Let me explain. Every summer, my grandparents rent this massive villa somewhere in the world—we’re talking infinity pools, tennis courts, and a “staff quarters” vibe. It’s fancy. During this week of forced family bonding, Grandpa Elber breaks out his magic for what he calls “the ultimate empathy exercise.”

Yeah, magic. Real magic. My grandpa is an actual wizard, and no, I don’t know why he isn’t out saving the world or something. He claims this is his legacy, his gift to the family. And the gift? A body swap. Each of us trades bodies with another family member for the week to “better understand” their perspective. Sounds wholesome in theory, right? Sure. Except it comes with rules.

The first rule: you can only swap with someone of the same gender. According to Grandpa, this is because “genders have different energies” or some other magical nonsense he uses to justify it. The second rule: while in someone else’s body, you must act like that person. It’s considered bad form—borderline taboo, even—to behave “out of character.” The goal is to fully immerse yourself and live as them for the week.

This is the part that fucking sucks for me.

Growing up, I naturally got shoved into the women’s group. It didn’t matter that my hair was short or that I always would hang out with my male cousins all the time. When swap week rolled around, I was guaranteed to end up in the most hyper-feminine body available. Cousin Leah, with her long curly hair and pastel sundresses. Aunt Beth, whose shoe collection was a stiletto-filled nightmare. Once, I even got swapped into Great Aunt Carol, whose hobbies include flower arranging and oversharing about her cats.

It was torture. Absolute, unfiltered dysphoria. Butvery year, I’d smile through gritted teeth as relatives gushed about “seeing life from a different perspective,” counting the minutes until I could escape back to my flawed, but familiar, body.

But this year was different.

Nine months ago, I started taking T and told my family I wanted to use he/him pronouns. While their reactions ranged from awkward to mildly confused, they mostly rolled with it. And over time, my voice got deeper voice, the angles of my face sharpened a bit, and I started carrying myself more like a guy. Sure, I wasn’t "there" yet, whatever that meant: I hadn’t had top surgery, and my voice still cracked when I tried to lower it too much. But for this year’s reunion, I was cautiously optimistic that there was a chance—however slim—that I might finally swap with a guy.

The thought alone made my pulse race. Grandpa said he had no idea what would happen, that the magic would sort itself out. But if it worked—if the spell actually recognized who I was, not who I’d been forced to be—it would be life-changing. For once, I might not have to endure a week of floral prints and makeup. For once, I might get to experience a body that offered a glimpse into my future as a man.

---

On the evening of the swap, the family gathered in the villa’s massive living room, the air thick with incense from whatever mystical preparation Grandpa had cooked up. I sat cross-legged on the floor, trying not to look too eager. Across the room, Uncle Marco—rugged, broad-shouldered, and looking like he belonged on the cover of Men’s Health—was chatting with Cousin Dylan, who somehow made even a hoodie and jeans look effortlessly cool. If the magic did swap me with a guy, I hoped for one of them.

Grandpa raised his hands, muttered something in an unrecognizable language, and completed the spell. A wave of dizziness hit me like a truck, and everything went dark.

When I came to, the world felt... different.

Looking down, I saw strong, freckled arms with pale skin peppered by coppery freckles. The faint lines of veins ran beneath the surface, threading down to hands that felt capable, solid, real. My breath quickened. A quick glance at the mirror across the room confirmed what I already realized: I was in Theo’s body.

Theo. My cousin Theo was the only other openly gay member of our family. He was always unapologetically himself, and—if I was being honest—so effortlessly masculine it made my chest ache.

I tried not to stare too long in the mirror across the room—tried not to make it obvious—but I couldn’t help but take in the details. My hands shifted tentatively, brushing over the flat expanse of his chest. I could feel the firm definition of his pecs under my fingertips, the strength that lay just beneath the skin. A shiver ran through me as I slid my hands up to his shoulders, savoring the way they tapered down to his arms. My fingers traced his biceps, squeezing lightly, marveling at the power there.

My throat tightened as I flexed one arm, watching the muscle shift and ripple under the skin. For the first time in my life, I looked at a reflection that didn’t feel foreign. This was it. This was who I was supposed to be.

I feel a stirring in my pants, an undeniable reaction to the overwhelming experience of feeling up my own muscles. For the first time in my life, I have a dick. Hesitantly, I let my hand drift lower, subtly pressing against the fabric of Theo’s jeans. The weight of it, the reality of it, is electric.

Across the room, Grandpa—now in Dylan’s body—continues explaining the rules of the swap. His deep voice fills the air, and I catch myself half-listening. My attention flickers to Dylan’s slumped form, unlucky enough to be swapped with Grandpa for the third year in a row. Poor guy. I thought the swaps were supposed to be random, but maybe Grandpa has a knack for landing in his sexy body every summer.

I glance over at my former body. Dysphoria is etched into his—my—features. Theo’s jaw is tight, his hands clutching at my chest as if trying to make sense of the reality he’s been thrown into. It hits like a punch to the gut. I know that feeling all too well, and it sucks to see it written so clearly on my face. Worse still, it’s a stark reminder that I don’t fully look like a guy yet. Not the way I want to.

Grandpa’s voice booms as he finishes his speech. “Let’s all have a fun week!” he declares, his tone lighthearted but commanding.

I turn back to the mirror, drawn to my reflection like a magnet. My smirk curls naturally, unbidden. For once, the face looking back at me feels real, tangible, mine. And damn, does it feel good. Fuck I hope this week never ends

[genderqueerdykes]

Hi, just want to start off saying that I really appreciate this blog and the insight you have on queer issues, especially the experiences of intersex people. I've definitely learned a lot about this topic from you.

That said, I'm a perisex trans guy who has been thinking about getting a non-traditional sex change, specifically a metoidioplasty without a hysterectomy or vaginectomy. I know it would make me happier in my body and better fulfill my sexuality but I guess I'm just worried that it would be fetishistic of intersex bodies? I know there is a lot of fetishism of "mixed genitals" which is a huge problem for intersex people because it promotes a harmful and inaccurate perception of what being intersex is, and I guess I don't want to contribute to that

If this sounds ridiculous I'm sorry, I have multiple severe anxiety disorders. If this is offensive I'm also sorry, I have nothing to say for myself there

nah that's not fetishistic! that has nothing to do with intersex conditions or harming intersex people. it's okay to want any genital configuration possible. altersex is a term often used by people who want to change their bodies in whatever ways possible, others call it nonbinary transition or call themselves transsexual. it's an okay thing to want that

saying "i want to transition into being intersex" is intersexist, but saying "i want a metoidioplasty and no hysterectomy/vaginectomy" is stating what you want for your body. it's your body, your decision. anyone can have any genitals they want. cis women can have penises and cis men can have vaginas. theres no rules. fetishizing intersex people is an entire other can of worms

[totallyjustabunchofhocuspocus]

Fic Preview

A sneak peek of the next part of Something To Sink Your Teeth Into

Pairing: Buck/Tommy

Vampire/Witch!AU

Why didn’t you tell me? You can’t expect me to believe she forbade you to speak immediately. From the very first?

Sally tried very, very hard to keep her voice calm, even. Tried not to let judgement creep into her tone, tried not to let a hint of the panic that was clawing up her own throat, choking her breath, show in her words or her manner. Sebastian was a weeping mess in front of her, nearly plucking his own feathers out in his despair.

I’m sorry! he wailed, his wings fluttering and flapping as he struggled to rein in his wild emotions. I swear to you, I never thought it would go this far. He wasn’t…he wasn’t like this at first. She thought she could handle it, she thought they could work through it, that he loved her enough to change. And then…and then when it got worse she was afraid of what it would mean for the coven, for her parents. For Evan. You know his family could make life even more difficult for Evan; we couldn’t…we didn’t want to risk it. I begged her, Sally! Please believe me, I begged her to ask for help. She bound me to keep silent the first time he left a mark. I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!

Sebastian dissolved once again into great, hiccoughing sobs, and Sally was struck anew by just how damned young he was. One of the youngest familiars in the coven. Maddie Buckley was his first witch. His first experience with the sacred duty to guide and protect the practitioners of the magic they served that all familiars took up when they took physical form in the human world. His first experience, and he had to contend with…this.

She had never liked Doug Kendall. She knew his type—too in love with power and prestige and his own image for the meat beneath the veneer to be anything good. She’d counseled her witch’s sister to look elsewhere for a match as best she could, but Maddie had been too eager to escape the oppressive atmosphere of her parents’ house and her parents had been too eager to curry favor with the Kendall coven. Maddie Buckley, sadly, was not the first young witch to be offered up on the altar of coven politics and she would not be the last. Sally had not expected her marriage to be happy.

But she had not expected it to be violent, either.

She’d been arrogant, she saw now. So certain in her ability to take the weight and measure of any witch after so long on this plane of existence. Stupid. Stupid.

Anger burned through her, her magic crackling and snapping beneath her skin. Fury like she hadn’t known in centuries pulsed in her heart, so intense she barely knew what to do with it. She could almost hear her mentors from centuries past whispering in her ear. Who does anger serve Sally? What does anger help Sally? Channel it, Sally. Make it productive.

The problem was the obvious target for her anger was already dead…and so she was left to keep it from splashing all over every other available target.

She was angry with Sebastian. A familiar’s first duty was to protect their witch. There was no getting around the fact that he’d judged the situation between Maddie Buckley and her husband poorly; let Maddie’s desires outweigh what he had to have known was the best course of action and had failed in his duty.

She was angry with herself for not seeing signs that she absolutely should have recognized if she was so damned smart and observant. For not stepping in to help the woman she’d watched grow up, the woman her witch adored above all others in his life, even herself. For not realizing the desperate, foolish plan her witch had come up with to protect his sister until it was too late.

Heaven help her, she was angry at Evan. Why hadn’t he called to her when he realized that he wasn’t going to be able to just drive to his sister’s house and bring her back to their parents’ home? Why hadn’t he called? He knew she would have come. He knew there was nothing she would not risk, nothing she would not give up to protect him. Maddie had had no choice but to defend herself, and she would have stood proudly by her witch to testify to that fact. He had to know that. She was one of the few beings in the state that had the clout to even begin to mount a defense for Maddie, though it mightn’t have been enough. The laws around using your magic to take another witch’s life were strict and all but merciless, for good reason, but…

No.

No, she knew exactly why Evan hadn’t called for her.

She could have done more for his sister than just about everyone else in their coven, but there was still a very large chance that Maddie would be executed. Evan…Evan was still technically a child, by human and coven law. There were those on the Pennsylvania high coven that would push for his execution, as close to the age of majority as he was, but Sally was confident that they would be outnumbered by those who favored banishment.

Banishment.

Evan was facing banishment.

Her witch, her little love grown so tall and broad now, but forever small in her eyes. The boy she’d practically raised—alongside his sister—since he was ten years old. And that was the best case scenario. She was confident that the high coven would not vote to execute a seventeen-year-old boy…but she had been confident that Doug Kendall was only a political animal. Not a monster. She could not truly guarantee that Maddie would not have faced the death penalty, particularly with a coven and family as politically powerful as the Kendalls on the warpath, seeking revenge for their son’s death.

Foolish. Sebastian had been so foolish not to tell anyone the first time Doug Kendall lashed out at his wife in anger. Maddie had not recorded any evidence of the abuse she suffered with the human authorities, using her own magic and training to treat the worst of her wounds and hiding the rest until they faded from view. She had never come to her coven for protection, had never lodged any complaint that her marriage—an alliance between the Buckley and Kendall covens first and foremost, with certain rights and protections guaranteed to her because of it—was causing her harm. There was no paper trail, no evidence, nothing they could use to claim Maddie was justified in killing her husband. Intellectually, Sally understood. Oh she understood how well shame and fear and despair could work to silence even the strongest person. But Evan was in danger now. She cared for Maddie, but Evan was hers.

[anghraine]

I've had an unfathomably stressful weekend among my right-wing maternal relatives. Naturally, I'm celebrating my escape with a poll!

I like to headcanon a bunch of my faves as ace or grey-ace, sometimes with reasons that make sense to other people, sometimes out of pure projection (I'm a grey-ace lesbian myself, and this bleeds out into my fandom tastes!).

REMINDER that this isn't (necessarily) a vote for your favorite character, or even your personal favorite-of-all-time ace headcanon. Vote for the character on this list that you would most enjoy imagining as asexual or grey-ace. Feel free to add details about your headcanons for your choice, though!

Details for mine specifically:

Luke Skywalker - aro-ace, misunderstands his natural rapport+psychic bond with Leia as attraction in part because he's never actually experienced real attraction and never will.

Charlotte Lucas - ace lesbian.

Men in Tolkien - grey-ace or ace, depending on the instance (I was tempted to exclude a very few specific individuals like Finwë, Samwise Gamgee, and Eöl, but it was inconvenient, and honestly, I still feel the Tolkien default for dudes is grey-ace).

Spock - gay grey-ace outside of pon farr scenarios (he hates the prospect of pon farr with T'Pring for multiple reasons! he's also aggressively disinterested in Mudd's women, the lady sexbots in "Shore Leave," etc, for ... uh, also multiple reasons).

Romana I - grey-ace.

Athena - very aggressively 100% aro-ace, can and will strike down anyone who doubts this.

Anakin Skywalker - Padmésexual.

Fitzwilliam Darcy - grey-ace, has been slightly attracted to people before, but rarely and not very strongly, until Elizabeth upends his entire experience of sexuality in the space of about 2 weeks. His own feelings only get (far) more intense and foreign to him from there.

Emelye - aro-ace. Rarely have I more strongly wished I could free someone from the story they're trapped in.

Tar-Telperiën - aro-ace, will bring the full weight of royal power to bear on anyone who has a problem with it (following the example of her lesbian great-grandmother Tar-Ancalimë, but refusing to marry at all. goodforher.jpeg)

Moiraine - grey-ace & lesbian. Yes, I know Jordan wants me to believe she's into Thom. je refuse

Cassian Andor - grey-ace, and near the "fully ace" boundary. He's mostly into Jyn and very surprised (and initially dismayed) about it.

[potatoes83]

AI...

So I went to Taco Bell yesterday, the one on 11 Mile in Royal Oak, since the one up on 12 Mile in Madison Heights, although closer to my home, absolutely sucks. And this is something I try not to do, because it's nothing but calories, although a good and inexpensive source of protein, and I indeed regretted its return all through the night.

I pull in, roll the window down, and I hear the car in front of me talking to what is very clearly a computerized AI voice. A pleasant enough female voice, good diction, but with the very obvious pauses between phrases. I think that's the biggest difference; humans tend to trail off with their phrases, our conversations are a two-way street as we finish each other's sentences. AI doesn't do that. Okay, got it. Would you like anything else? No. Say, it's hot out there. Did you know you can get any medium drink for $2.99? Would you like to add a medium drink for $2.99? No. Okay. Got it.

At this point, making fun of the still imperfect technology, I would point out that it was late December in Michigan. One is more apt to be after a nice hot coffee then a plastic cup of iced sugar water.

Now, I guess credit where it's due, the thing did take my order with surprising accuracy. I order several different items, each of which has a modification because I'm either swapping out the ground beef or chicken in favor of black beans, or adding sour cream to something because it's delicious. It got everything bang on, much better than the voice assist on my smartphone or in my vehicle. And removing all doubt, there was indeed a sticker on the squawk box saying AI is assisting us today.

One thing I noticed is that even though I was perfectly aware that I was talking to AI, my common courtesy still instinctively kicked in; yes please, no thank you, that sort of thing. But when it prompted me for the roundup donation at the end, there wasn't that guilt of telling a human no, I don't want to send my change to some foundation, because I was talking to a robot.

I think one of the biggest problems I have with all of this is the lack of human interaction. And don't get me wrong, I'm an introvert by nature, leave me alone in my office to do my work, and don't get between me and my home. But you still need basic human interaction. You need the banter. Because I go out of my way to start my interactions with basic human pleasantries; good evening, how are you doing? No bullshit, no idle chit chat, but 10 seconds of acknowledgment that I am a human being talking to a human being. That was missing.

I very much doubt it's going away, though it would be nice if it gave you some quick little survey at the end so you could tell them what you think. Like those ziosk tablets at Olive Garden, at the end it asks you if the ziosk device improved your dining experience. And it's like, no. It may have made life a little bit easier for the server, able to ring the app in right at the table, although these days they can be just as easily carrying around a mobile device. So I'm able to slice my credit card right there at the table instead of the server having to go to the nearest POS station to do it, again, could be solved with a mobile device. It's like, I didn't come here to ring in my own order, any more than I'm still terribly fond of having to ring up and bag my own groceries. So as the end use Taco Bell customer, your AI didn't generally improve my experience one way or the other. Although, to be fair, I have had some absolutely abysmal customer service where humans are involved, when they're clearly just not paying attention, and you have to repeat yourself five times. The AI did help with that, I suppose. 🥔

guys don't worry about ai anymore

[our-aplatonic-experience]

Apl spec culture is having gotten out of a "toxic friendship relationship" where an alloplatonic friend forced everyone in the group to interact with him 24/7 or he felt alone, telling his insecurities and we were bad people if we didn't do it because we didn't try. Now I'm out of that group and the other friends I have I keep at a distance and they don't have a problem with that. But seriously, the previous group I had affected me so much because it made me believe that the way I saw platonic relationships was wrong, for example, he got angry when I left the group with others just because I was invited to another team (school project), that the whole group felt disappointed and that I wasn't thinking about them, but it's my future and what I want to do is me, not them. Fortunately, I'm better now and I have a partner. I don't know how to define our relationship yet, but he has the same thoughts as me (he's also a-spec like me). And it's like, I would like to have the platonic feelings that everyone has, and yes, I can have them, only sometimes they are very ambiguous, like I have an interest in making friends but then it fades away my interest in investing or nurturing the relationship.

I hope my experience resonates with someone or helps them get out of a situation.

.

[natsukishinomiyaswife]

Happy New Year Everyone! ♡

Thank you to everyone for making my 2024 so special! No matter the ups and down, I sincerely appreciate every single one of you. My friends, my mutuals, anyone who enjoys my work. Thank you for your support, for your time and encouragement. Whether you're here for my x Reader works, my OCs or OCs or Canons, I thank you ♡

With 2025 here now, I want to make a change. While I will still write x Reader works, I will be focusing on myself and my own happiness. This blog may be less active (fic wise) as I focus more on my side blogs, one being for Twst and my Twst OCs / OC x Canons. And the other being for my self ships (featuring multiple fandoms).

I would like to thank my friend Syder for the talk they had with me, and for helping me realize the problems I was oblivious to. I have been so focused on pleasing others, on pushing out fics and feeling "included", to the point of overthinking and becoming fixated. I was desperate to feel included, stressing myself out and panicking (due to my anxiety), resulting in burnout. I feared if I took a break or left completely I would be "forgotten", and continued to work through the burnout, leaving me in a worse state.

For 2025, I want to focus on myself. On my ships, my favorite characters, and whatever in general makes me happy. I'm going to do my best to stop worrying about what others want or think, and I know that if I happen to stumble, my friends will be there to help along the way ♡

Now onto the sappy stuff, which can be found under the cut due to length lol ♡

Coli (@nicoliharu) - Thank you for being one of the first people I met when joining Tumblr. I sincerely appreciate your support, friendship, and kindness. You are an amazingly talented artist with ships I would love to see more of. I know we don't talk much, but just know I care about you, your work, and your ships ♡ I hope you have a happy new year filled with love and laughter ♡ You're a dear friend to me, and I hope you know that ♡

Absolute (@meltedbluecaterpillar) - Another person who I met when I first joined Tumblr, thank you so much for your friendship and support. Again, I know we don't talk much, but I appreciate our talks when we do. Especially since I can talk Hypmic, Utapri, Charisma House, and more with you. I hope we can talk more in the new year as I start posting for other fandoms. I hope you have a happy new year filled with love and laughter, and have fun no matter the fandom ♡

Ian (@crystallizsch) - Thank you for being such a great friend. It's so much fun talking with you, whether it be ideas, ships, our days, etc. My fandom experience wouldn't be the same without you. You're supportive, kind, and amazingly talented. I'm so glad to have met you, and to be friends with you. It's a joy to watch you create and have fun creatively, whether through art or writing. You're a dear friend to me, and I hope you know that. I hope you have a happy new year filled with love and laughter, and I hope you know you are loved /p too.

Tato (@viperbunnies) - Tato, I sincerely appreciate you so much. Though we haven't known each other long, you've grown to be such a dear friend to me. Thank you so much for your friendship and support. Our talks are always such a joy, and I love learning more about your OCs and ships. Our conversations could be about anything and it's always fun. You're incredibly talented and creative, and I'm glad I reached out when I did. I hope you have a happy new year filled with love and laughter, and I can't wait to see you come up with next ♡

Syder (@anbaisai) - I can't express enough how thankful I am for your friendship. You have always been so supportive since we first met, and have made me feel more included in the Twst fandom than anyone else. Our talks are always a delight and it brings me such joy knowing you associate me with Trey, one of my favorite characters. I know I must sound crazy in our DMs the past few months, especially with how my emotions have been, and I'll always be grateful for your perspective and feedback. The fact that you "give it to me straight" and explained things to where I could understand has truly helped me grasp the situation I was in, and how my mindset was. I think I would still be spiraling and fixating/overthinking if it wasn't for you, and I will always be grateful for that. You are a great friend, and an incredibly talented and hardworking person. Thank you so much for your time, your support, your friendship, and your care. I hope you have a happy new year filled with love and laughter, and know that I hold so much respect for you ♡ (and I hope you're alright with me tagging you lol ♡)

Algy (@offorestsongs) - Algy, there's so much I could say. You're so talented, and supportive, and kind. Your warmth shines through in your writing and art, so soft and sweet, I just adore it. You've always been such a good friend to me, and I'm so grateful to have met you. Thank you so much for your friendship, your time, and your support. I hope you have a happy new year filled with love and laughter, and I look forward to whatever you do next. It's always such a joy to see your OCs, your ships, and how much happiness it brings you. I strive to be like you in that aspect, and will do my best to do so this year ♡

Kris (@skriblee-ksk) - I am going to ramble, so bear with me lol ♡ I appreciate you so much Kris. From your friendship, to your support, to your ships and art. You will always be such a dear friend to me, and I highly encourage anyone reading this to commission you (if you're currently accepting them) I know I have complimented your work over and over, but I am genuine when I say my OCs wouldn't be the same without your work. Commissioning you is always such a joy, and every single time you make my OCs and ships more "alive" than they would be otherwise. You're incredibly talented, kind, and a wonderful friend to have. I cannot thank you enough for your support and friendship, and again, I highly recommend anyone considering commissions to commission Kris. You won't be disappointed. I hope you have a happy new year filled with love and laughter, and I look forward to whatever you do next. You're probably the most supportive person in this fandom (other than Ian and Algy) when it comes to frequent reblogs and feedback, no matter the person. I can't thank you enough for it ♡

Jan (@cheerleaderman) - Supportive and creative, those are the first two words that come to mind when I see your name. You are a constant support to many people in this fandom, drawing people's OCs and OC x Canons without any prompting and surprising so many with your work. Your love for this fandom, for other's OCs and OC x Canons is obvious. And with your own OCs, ships, and events, it's clear how much you enjoy Twst. It's a joy to see and I know I (and many others) appreciate you for it. You make the fandom more fun without even trying, and I'm grateful for it. Thank you so much for your friendship Jan, for your support and care. I hope you have a happy new year filled with love and laughter, and I look forward to where your creativity takes you next ♡

Bones (@0honeybones0) - Thank you so much for your friendship Bones, for your time and support. You're incredibly talented, and I sincerely appreciate the care you've shown me. I look forward to seeing more with Rebecca, with her ship with Jamil, and everything else in between. I hope you have a happy new year filled with love and laughter, and I hope you know just how much I enjoy your friendship, your OC, and your ship ♡

Shuu (@oya-oya-okay), Felle (@fell-e), Amatsu (@amatsuchan-eiliniel), (@cyanide-latte), Harry (@jovieinramshackle)

Addie (@justm3di0cr3), Shoopy (@boopshoops), Seris (@tixdixl), Hagi (@clovenoko), Quinn (@thehollowwriter) - All of you are incredibly talented, kind, and so supportive. The fandom wouldn't be the same without you, without your OCs, work, and personalities. Whether it be through supporting others, OCs and OC x Canons, gushing about faves, or just having fun. I'm grateful to be mutuals with each of you, and I hope you have a happy new year filled with love and laughter ♡

To my followers and any mutuals I've forgotten, thank you so much. I hope you have a happy new year filled with love and laughter, and I hope you'll continue to support me in the new year ♡

Thank you! ♡

[i-got-the-feels]

Art I Made in 2024

January

Most Popular

Kinn, Porsche and parental angst is popular and even my favorite? No one is surprised

Favourite

Other favorites - Pat and Ming | Pran and Dissaya

Again, parental angst, please pretend to be surprised. I remember struggling to find the right coloring to capture the emotions but I'm glad with the final result

February

Most Popular

Was very big brained of me to make killer paradox x Crime and Punishment quote edits and honestly did an amazing job at it - proud of it

Favourite

The show made me cry. I wanted to honor every life yi jae lived and I think I did that

March

Most Popular

Sapphic pining and yearning with galaxy metaphors? You got it, boss

Favourite

This is a 3 parter

My name x The Glory - my favourite badass woman consumed by hurt, anger, guilt and revenge. Know that I was always love you. This edit will always be special to me because it was my first multiple characters across show edit. Glad I participated in the @userdramas event

Queen of tears - using the stripes and gaps in her memory was very big brained of me

Doctor slump - honestly in love with the coloring

April

Most Popular

I love women. I worship well-written woman. I am in awe of woman who can act out these well-written layered characters. Shogun gave me all of this and more

Favourite

The scene in QoT that hurt a lot. When she refused to marry him - though it's clear they both still love each other. She sees herself as a burden because she is sick and doesn't want to be with him but he finally sees the woman he loves now that the loss is imminent - the hurt and resentment didn't matter as long as he had a chance to build and live a life with her. I think the quote perfectly captures it and the coloring captures the melancholy and clarity they both have and it's my second favorite QoT set of mine.

May

Most Popular

Did QoT have it's problems? Yes. But we're those 2-3 months of watching the joy filled with joy and purpose? Also yes. So of course I made a good bye edit when the show ended

Favourite

23.5 was heartwarming and adorable. This edit was my first time doing social media template and honestly did quite a decent job for first time

June

Even when I don't make edit of shows, I make edit of ✨women✨

July

Most Popular

Shin Ha Kyun playing cunty morally grey diva who began to be morally ambiguous after meeting gorgeous young diva who is unhinged is always magical. Thanks to this show for introducing me to Kim Young kwang.

Honestly love the quotes, it's a combination of few quotes and my writing and dare I say I did a badass job

Favourite

Thank you, a bloody lucky day for giving me yoo yeon seok as bloody murderous psychopath, looking forward to more such roles. This edit's idea began because I saw him all bloody, then I saw Jung eun's character die and was like oh this is happening. The quote for her character was hardest to find but I found a good done Finally

August

Most Popular

I've said it earlier, I'll say it again. I watched the show thanks to @guzhufuren and am glad because hua ein and xiao bao have become my favorite grumpy x sunshine couple

Favourite

It is a two parter

The king of pigs

I was NOT prepared for the ending. They only said the bullying was graphic. No one told me I'd cry even after the episode. Jung min shouldn't have been pushed to do what he did. Kyung min shouldn't have had to live with the guilt of witnessing what he did. The anger, the hurt and the sadness at the injustice of what they experience made this edit

Shadow Detective

The first part of the show was GREAT. The second part was mid. You know what was consistent though? Lee sung min's acting and that's what made this edit - the awe and respect I felt for him and how he acted in this scene at the beach.

September

Most Popular

Knowing that she developed feelings for him drove me insane and bought this edit

Favourite

I am a very huge nerd for Episode titles so really love this set and especially gyeongseong creatures being congruent with theme of boundaries - between morality, power and empowerment was chefs kiss.

October

Most Popular

If a show talks about revolution as beautiful as gyeongseong creature does and I don't make an edit, know I'm depressed (like legit, netting the clinical ICD-10 criteria) or dead.

Favourite

This show was beautiful and I'm happy I could pay it a proper tribute. Murder in a small village, where everyone is guilty to some extent, you will always be my favorite

November

Most Popular - Straight

Yoo yeon seok as rich powerful chaebol tsundere is what my dreams are made of. Honestly this edit was born after THE EPISODE 2 SCENE.

Most Popular - Gay

You know the shows trailer was good. When you are sad by it days after watching and it and it reminds you of the music you listened to in your adolescent years, which then you of course continue listening for weeks to come. P'Aof, gemini and fourth, looking forward to my ruining.

Favourite

The Heart Killers Episode 1 and Episode 2 captured really well the desire - be it lust, to belong, yearning and pining

Kant x Bison - the same kant who doesn't bother exchanging names with his hook ups being disappointed bison left!!! the red and oranges-ish hue to show desire and passion and I'm afraid I ate and left no crumbs with quotes

Fadel x Style - fadel's anger and guilt for having a desire and yearning to be loved and to belong but the anger and guilt not being enough to stop making him feel? Delicious. Also once again the coloring and quotes? Perfect. I devoured. The quote took me HOURS to find.

December

Most Popular

Glad I wasn't alone in loosing my mind over style kissing fadel's scar with absolute gentleness and devotion

Favourite

It's a 3 parter

Kant and Style and Guilt - honestly no one likes what Kant is doing, including kant but hating him for it just shows you don't understand him. Honestly, can't remember doing such a word heavy edit but @ropebunnykant liz's trust in me is something I am forever grateful so for thanks a lot love, this - including my writing, happened because of your tags

Fadel x Style x 10 Things I Hate About You - I have never denied being a basic bitch

Kant x Bison x Stories scene - honestly slapped with the coloring and the quote

Thank you @fujunfuren @ryoun @natahjikio @shenzhiheng @spicyvampire for the tag - I love doing at the end of every year. Nice to see the shows I watched, recollect how they made feel and how they played into the editing

I tag @riggerbison @thisautistic @puppy-phum @sparklyeyedhimbo @fadelsburger @bisonsclothespin @pharawee and anyone who wants to do this

[nothoughtsjustficrecs]

This was, without a doubt, a phenomenal read. Seriously, the humour is impeccable; my cheeks hurt from laughing so much. I’ll have to re-read this story one day, perhaps multiple one days (yes I’m aware that makes no sense). And their relationship is amazing, I truly love it and every second of this story.

Thank you for writing this absolute masterpiece and sharing it with us!

When I was reading, I decided to write down my thoughts as I go because I knew I'd forget otherwise so below this is literally just the thoughts I wrote down because I do not have the brain power to convert them into actual fully coherent comments [I'll put them below a read more cut for the sake of spoilers and such]

-

“ “Smog?” The customer parroted incorrectly, scratching his hair as if the action would jog his memory. “Now why does this hobbit’s home have health violations?” ” this literally made me snort

Okay this lil comments are making me laugh “ he persuaded the idiot to get a rom-com instead / planning to rob the CDs ” he has such high hopes and thoughts of others 😂

“ Now, he did not want to sound pathetic ” oh no please do sound pathetic, I kinda like it

“ But then, who was watching Disney movies at that age? ” me, damn Vernon, go back to being pathetic

“ He had, in his own words, called you a hag. ” cackling

“ You had to grip the counter, cackling at the response ” we are one. Hags who cackle together and all that

“ Maybe life can be unfucked ” okay I need to stop highlighting every phrase that makes me laugh or else I’ll highlight half the fic at this rate, stop making me laugh (im kidding pls never stop)

“ Mr. Filmbro. Miss Disney-Hag ” aw they have cute lil nicknames for each other already

Omg is he about to rob his lil sister???

Omg Vernon you absolute shit omg

“ Filmbrother ” I have literal tears in my eyes why is that so fucking funny

“ The corners of your mouth, lifting upwards, had him almost nervous. “I was hoping you would say that.” ” okay, I officially love her

Those first texts just imagine receiving that, oh Vernon you silly boy. But tbf I probably would’ve forgotten to add my name too, so I get it

“ “I like my men a little pathetic.” ” you know, im starting to think you just wrote me in this story because she is so relatable

“ “That seems more like a you problem then!” ” okay im convinced you literally copy & pasted me now, I’m always saying that

But seriously im loving this so far! the shenanigans ehehehe

“ “Stop freaking out, my guy!” you called out, right on the top of the ladder. “I know my ass is crazy built but this is not the time.” ” I am wheezing

“ “And Batman is the same thing, except he dresses up as a fucking bat…stupid furry.” ” I have never heard someone call Batman a furry before but man now I’m never going to be able to forget it. Nananananana furryman!

Omg im laughing so hard at the disc swapping, and mingyu being dumb holy shit my chest hurts

“ “Let’s watch a fucking Disney Princess movie.” ” the man knows what to say to win a gal over

“ shuts down like a lagging desktop when it tries to run the Sims ” damn, that hits close to home

The whole lantern scene is so fucking cute and written so well I can so easily imagine it all, I love it

“ “If I am to be your exception, _____, then I suppose you can be mine.” ” SCREECHING THAT’S SO CUTE

If his favourite movie is anything other than Shrek I quit

“ “I think I could have fun with you anywhere…in secret or for anyone to see.” ” exhibitionist

YESSSSS SHREKKKK

“ VERNON LOST HIS VIRGINITY WITH SHREK PLAYING IN THE BACKGROUND. ” no but this reads like a newspaper headline and im just wheezing at the thought of seeing an article titled that

“ You swore if you recited the IMDB plot out to him during sex, he would have spunked within minutes (a mental note to experiment on that later) ” I snorted. But now im very curious how that experiment would go

“ Within this myriad of fans, you tried to search for the most mentally ill one ” im back to highlighting every other line because fuck did that make me laugh

“ “Where are you, kitten?” you purposely growled, lowering your voice an octave. “Daddy’s waiting.” ” omg “ “Kitten actually killed himself after hearing that,” was his purposeful monotone. ” I love them

“ a boy engulfed in all the pinks of the colour wheel ” I am flailing and kicking my feet omg I love a man who is down bad for his partner

I kind of wish they just stood there staring dumbly at each other with their phones to their ears still, just because the mental image makes me laugh, but you’ve done enough of that already my cheeks hurt so probably good you didn’t write that. My cheeks might break.

They are seriously so cute omg, partners who break and enter together stay together 💗

𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐦𝐛𝐫𝐨-𝐳𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐝

❝Who knew all it takes is a hot girl with top-tier taste for a man to admit he's wrong?❞

𝒈 𝒆 𝒏 𝒓 𝒆 : fluff, comedy, suggestive, college! au

𝒘 𝒐 𝒓 𝒅 𝒄 𝒐 𝒖 𝒏 𝒕 : 21.7k words

𝒔 𝒖 𝒎 𝒎 𝒂 𝒓 𝒚 : self-proclaimed movie mastermind chwe vernon minds his business—whether that be avoiding the popular, problematic kids in his college to reducing customer interest in his parents' film store. his plan of isolation, however, is completely destroyed when you, a seemingly insane disney fan, slam his perfect movie taste and ask for his help to take down an evil ex.

𝒄 𝒐 𝒏 𝒕 𝒆 𝒏 𝒕 : loosely inspired by watching the detectives, film major! vernon who owns an outdated film store, fem! reader is the baddest (but also the craziest) bitch in this fic, vernon is a loser, film major! mingyu who will be violated many times in this fic sorry king, mentions of many filmbro films which will also be violated, self-indulgent mentions of some of my favourite films, a few super dark jokes nothing serious though, kissing, mentions of sex and the act of cumming (all joking wise) but no actual sex because im fearing god today (super suggestive at best), barbenheimer reference <3

𝒕 𝒂 𝒈 𝒍 𝒊 𝒔 𝒕 : @hyuckworld @junyangis @hiraethmae @lllucere @intoanothermind @kokoiinuts @shnnzsworld @lilifiedeans @talkyoongitome @vanishingboots @cookiearmy @person1fys

𝒂 𝒖 𝒕 𝒉 𝒐 𝒓 ' 𝒔 𝒏 𝒐 𝒕 𝒆 : she is finally here !! so so sorry for taking so long </3 i never thought it would be finished atp but thank you addy and alice for pushing me to complete this lil fic !! addy ur film major info birthed the filmbro slander, and alice...no smut LMAO LOSER anyway do enjoy homies <33

𝒑 𝒍 𝒂 𝒚 𝒍 𝒊 𝒔 𝒕 : if you're too shy (then let me know) by the 1975 || q&a by seventeen || wonderful women by the smiths || confidence by ocean alley || talk talk by charli xcx || oh my! by seventeen

back to masterlist

“NO, THE HOBBIT IS SET BEFORE THE LORD OF THE RINGS.”

This particular customer, however, refused to grasp the concept. “But the Hobbit was released after,” he repeated, as if he had not heard twenty minutes ago, when he first entered the store. “Wouldn’t it make sense to watch the more recent movies?”

Vernon clamped his lips together, stopping himself from saying something that would lose him a potential buyer. Well, not that it would matter much, considering the man before him could not comprehend what a prequel was, but still—he had to make this idiot understand.

“I understand that, sir, but the Hobbit is a prequel to the Lord of the Rings.” Holding onto the DVD set, he pointed to the grand picture of the movie’s protagonist. “It’s based on Bilbo Baggins’ adventures.”

“But was that not the little fellow from the Rings?”

“No, sir, that was Frodo. Bilbo is Frodo’s uncle.” The boy then clarified, tone heightening, “You know, where he reclaims his home from Smaug?”

“Smog?” The customer parroted incorrectly, scratching his hair as if the action would jog his memory. “Now why does this hobbit’s home have health violations?”

The twist of his lips was inevitable. “Smaug,” he corrected. “The dragon…the villain…the whole reason the movie was created?”

“See, I only know that one slimy creature with the ring. What was he always saying…” The man snapped his fingers, a lightbulb switching in his otherwise empty brain. “Ah, yes!” He then completely distorted his voice, rasping, “My presh-shious!”

For a split second, Vernon was a little gob-smacked at the impression. Then, he remembered he needed sales, and made sure to laugh as if that customer was the funniest man that ever stepped foot in the store. 

This particular joker, who was clearly not understanding Vernon’s analogies, instead asked, “Well, which one do you recommend?”

Ah, the fated question. 

Besides from the Lord of the Rings collection, he had been asked this very question a few too many times, when customers would browse the films on offer and ask for his opinion. Not that he considered himself an all-knowing master of movies—

He smiled. Now that was something he could chuckle about.

“Well, sir, the Lord of the Rings is a timeless classic. I would recommend it to anyone interested in a well-written, well-produced fantasy.”

The man twisted his lips. “But I don’t really like fantasy, though.” 

Vernon could not help his smile dropping. I don’t get paid enough for this.

With as much strength he could muster, he persuaded the idiot to get a rom-com instead, and ushered him out. 

He sighed, going back to the desk. The store was never busy—unsurprising, since nobody buys DVDs anymore—but that was how he liked it. The less customers that bothered him, the better. He did not want to be that type of guy, but he would rather have his own company than those who thought that the Marvel movies were God’s gift to man. (The Spiderman movies, however, he had to leave out of his apparently controversial statement).

Vernon was about to close the shop out of pure boredom when someone stepped in. 

His eyes darted to the newcomer. 

They stayed as he beheld you.

Perhaps this was a gross generalisation, but he did not expect someone so cute walking in a store this run-down. Maybe you had mistaken it for a vintage shop, planning to rob the CDs, or thought there might be decades old clothing in here. He was certain you had walked in by mistake, but then you began to browse the movie sections.

His first thought was that you seemed to have excellent taste. 

You slowed your steps in the classics section, eyes roaming at the Fan Favourites shelf which was simply movies Vernon had seen this week. Still, they were amazing fucking movies, hence their place on the shelf, now being admired by the likes of you. He wondered what you thought of the one DVD you picked up, assessing the blurb at the back. Roman Holiday. The boy could have smiled—you truly had a knack for picking out special films. 

Your fingers lingered on the movies for only a couple of minutes before you saw the desk—first the counter, and then the person behind it. 

The fact that your first instinct was to smile at the boy behind the counter had a profound effect on him.

Now, he did not want to sound pathetic; he did not know you, had never seen you before, but someone this aesthetically pleasing did not come to stores like his. Someone who picks up Roman fucking Holiday and be this cute did not acknowledge boys like him.

But Vernon Chwe will be cool about it. He will not look like a loser in front of you.

He pretended to look over some DVDs on the counter desk as you approached him. “Hey, there,” you greeted, and only then he allowed himself to look up, glancing you over. Already you had propped your arms on the top, eyes darting around the store as if finding something which deserved your attention. “I wanted to ask about a specific film. Well, films.” 

Films? Vernon really thought all the intelligent minds had rotted in this lifetime, but clearly you were an exception. “Of course,” he said, setting the movie on the side. “What genres are you interested in?” he ticked his head towards the Fan Favourites. “You were looking in the right place, to be fair.”

“Hmm?” you only spared that shelf a momentary—dismissive—glance. “Oh, sorry! I was looking for a specific box-set, but I can’t seem to find it on the shelves. I was hoping you could have it out back.”

Specific box-set? Vernon tried to contain his smile. Of course you were looking for a collection of timeless classics. “What’re you looking for?” he asked you, hoping you were going to request Hitchcock’s best. If you asked for Wong Kar-Wai’s trilogy, he might have fallen to his knees. 

You smiled at him.

Then dropped the bomb.

“I don’t know if you’d have the Disney Princess box set? You know, the complete edition?”

Vernon’s eye twitched a little. What the fuck?

Your gaze on him did not shift. “Are you okay?”

It took a moment for him to realise that you had asked him a question. “Huh? Right, sorry,” he said hurriedly, mind rushing for the many possibilities as to why you had requested a set like that. Perhaps you were braindead? No, that was too harsh. But then, who was watching Disney movies at that age?

Then an idea came into his head, and it made him feel much better. 

“So sorry about that,” he reiterated, scratching the back of his neck. “Anyway…Disney Princess set, huh?” He sighed out a laugh. “A sweet treat for your younger siblings, then.”

“Younger siblings?” A swift shake of your head, still smiling. “Haven’t got any of those.” 

The twitching was back. “...anyone under the age of 12 you know?”

“Now you’re making me sound like a freak,” you mused, locking your hands together. “Is it that shocking that I’m getting the set for myself?”

Vernon’s any attempt to diffuse the conversation died the moment you said those words.

Disney. Princess. Movies. The box-set you wanted was a Disney. Fucking. Princess box-set. 

At this rate, his eye-twitching was very much visible to you. “Don’t tell me no one’s ever bought a Disney movie from you,” you said, surprised by his change of attitude.

“Well,” he jeered, “I usually have first-time parents with their toddler kids asking me about sets like that.” 

You then titled your head back a little, taken aback with the comment. “Are you saying I’m too old to watch Disney movies?”

“No!” he instinctively defended himself, though he had virtually no defence to offer. He had, in his own words, called you a hag. 

This was it—he was usually stellar at keeping his opinions to himself. Now, the one time he could have kept his mouth shut, it spluttered open and not only embarrassed him, but one of the only cute potential customers. He was his own saboteur. His own destruction. 

After catching the flurry of emotions on his face, you had a realisation. 

Did his stupid comments get to you? Perhaps they would have, had you not seen his like before. Not only that, you had a sneaky feeling he himself had no clue on what category he was slotted into.

So you let the corners of your mouth curve upwards—up to the point where you were smirking, completely catching the boy off guard. 

“My god, you’re a filmbro!” 

Those emotions that you had witnessed now all conjoined into confusion. “Huh?” was his intelligent answer to the accusation. Filmbro?

And then you began to chuckle—little bursts of soft giggles, which escaped your mouth the more the revelation settled over you. “Wait, wait,” you began, “I need to ask this first!” You wiggled your finger at him. “What is your favourite film?”

Again, the fated question. This time, though, he felt as if his answer would not be the right one. Still—if there was one thing he was confident about, it was his expertise in films.

He tried, as confidently as he could, to voice out his supposed opinion. “Nolan’s Inception is one of the greatest films ever made.” 

There was one, solitary, quiet moment.

It was ruined by the subsequent laughter, courtesy of your mouth, which could not shut after his answer. You had to grip the counter, cackling at the response, and Vernon could only gawk at you, face reddening with every second spent watching you keel over. 

After what seemed like a lifetime (but was only about thirty seconds), Vernon finally cleared his throat. “Alright now, that’s enough comedy,” he muttered.

Another thirty seconds later, you finally seemed to calm down. The mischievous mirth on your face, although would have had any man swooning at your feet, seemed to irritate him all the more. “I’m sorry,” you gasped out, wiping a slight tear from your eye, “You just…you reminded me of my boyfriend.”

Of course. Vernon nearly clicked his tongue in disappointment. Of course the pretty, borderline-mean, borderline-terrible-taste-in-movies girl was taken. Fuck my life, son.

Your smile flickered—almost as if it turned cruel. “My mistake…ex-boyfriend.”

His eyebrow then raised a little. Maybe life can be unfucked; maybe the pretty, not-that-mean-as-he-thought, changeable-taste-in-movies girl was still attainable. 

Your eyes wandered once more, but this time to your hands. “I was actually going to get the Disney Princess set for him.”

The eyebrow decided to raise further up. He was dying to know why you were 1) getting your ex-boyfriend a present and 2) getting your ex-boyfriend the worst fucking present. But of course, due to the lack of balls in his pants, he did not ask you.

The crazier notion was, maybe you knew the lack of balls that should be present in his pants, because you iterated for him. “I’m surprised you’re not asking why I’m giving my ex a Disney Princess movie set, Mr. Filmbro.”

That term had him immediately frowning. “I don’t particularly care,” he lied as best as he could. He then crossed his arms. “Plus, I’m afraid the store doesn’t have the sets. I’m gonna have to order them in.”

A tilt of your head. “Are you lying?”

The cross of his arms was gone—now his hands were raised in surrender. “No, no!” At least not the set order bit…

Although it was quite clear that you did not believe him, you spared him this once. “Alright…” you receded your arms from the desk, taking a step back. Instead, you pointed at him. “But don’t think I’m gonna leave you alone on this!” 

Vernon’s insanely suave, cool, mystique response was giving you a thumb’s up. “Of course.” 

As you walked back to the entrance, hand on the door, you looked back at him. “I’ll see you soon, Mr. Filmbro.” 

The eye-twitch was about to come back. He did not bother waving as you left the shop.

VERNON COULD NOT STOP THINKING ABOUT YOU FOR THE SEVEN DAYS BETWEEN YOU AND TODAY. 

It was slightly embarrassing—he supposed he should have expected some extraordinary meet-cute, where someone who looked and acted like you would waltz into his dusty-ass film store and ask for possibly the worst movie collection to grace the western cinema. 

But then you called him a fucking Filmbro, and now the self-hatred might bubble to the surface of his usual calm demeanour. 

The boy scoffed as he fixed the alphabetical order of the CD covers, located in the Classics section. Filmbro…what the fuck do I look like a Filmbro for…

He firstly supposed that he should consider it a compliment—so what if he had superior knowledge of movies over the average morons that wandered into the store? He was paid minimum wage for this knowledge! Fuck, he was doing a degree within this field! (Not that he was quite sure he would end up as a blockbuster director at the fine age of 21, but the arts majors were always told to dream beyond the realistic limits.)

The more he contemplated over the vicious term, the more it began to bother him. Filmbro…Film. Bro. God, it sounded like a classist clique—a club where the members considered themselves above the laws of society, but were horrendously ridiculed by the outsiders. At the end of the day, he had always been an outsider in these clubs—he did not enjoy being the laughing stock, even if it meant being a member of an elitist group. 

Whatever. So what if you called him a Filmbro? He had only spoken to you once; the opinion of one girl—regardless of how pretty she was—was not of any relevance to him.

But then you sauntered into his store, and suddenly he forgot that he was seething over you for an entire week. 

There you were, footsteps harmonising along the bells of the entrance, and he swerved back to see you. You, in all your frill-skirted, layered-shirted, gum-chewing glory, catching his eye and bringing back the smile which you had offered him the moment you bestowed him that term of little-endearment. 

“Hello again, Mr. Filmbro.”

Don’t be a prick, don’t be a prick, don’t be a prick—

It was fine—it was okay. Vernon was a man now—no longer in his teens. He could have a normal, pleasant conversation. He was mature and able enough to interact with a girl who just happened to disagree with him on certain interests. 

He would be cordial—kind.

“How can I help you, Miss Disney-Hag?”

His skin nearly crawled. I need to kill myself immediately. 

A bit of a low blow from his nickname, but you were laughing, a silly little melody. You must have been crazy, because any other sane, rational human being would have been offended—should have been offended. Vernon fought to keep his face straight. 

“I see you’ve been thinking about me then,” you said. 

That had him looking away, walking behind the counter. “It’s not everyday I get a grown-ass woman asking me about children’s films.”

You mocked a gasp, slapping a hand over your chest. “Ouch. Do you hurt every girl that walks into your filmstore, or is this special treatment reserved for me?

Vernon focused on the cash in the register. “When another girl asks for the special edition for the Cinderella trilogy, then I’ll hurt her just the same.”

You clicked your tongue. “I should have known all men suck in their own ways.” You then approached the counter, propping your elbows atop the surface. “At least show me you’re good at your job and bring me the movie set I ordered.”

At this precise moment, all the thoughts about your stubborn addiction, playful smirk and how terrible the Little Mermaid was had completely vanished.

Shit. 

Maybe his irrational dislike ran further than he thought.

“Yeah…” but then he realised he sounded incredibly suspicious, and cleared his throat, forcing a little assurance in his usual monotone. “Yes! Yeah, of course! The movie set.” He took a step back, nodding his head ever so slowly, as if his head was not churning out a million different plans. “Give me one second…”

“Sure,” you could barely get out before Vernon whirled on his heel, bursting through the backstage door, and into the Chwe flat. 

He did not know whether this was going to work out. 

Like lightning he ascended the stairs, hands brushing against the bannister as he went past his bedroom, door slightly ajar. Not the destination he was seeking, he stopped before the neighbouring door—this one firmly closed. 

The boy made sure to knock first. No answer. Perfect. Slowly turning the knob, he opened the door, peeking around just in case there was someone in the room, and then he would have to resort to more planning. Since the coast was crystal clear, though, he put his mind at ease, only focusing on the main plan.

The room he had entered was a myriad of pop culture references and childhood memories, plastered on the butterfly-covered walls, sitting atop bedside tables or hanging off the hooks. Vernon never realised how invested his sister was with certain TV shows or films till he saw Lindsay Lohan’s mugshot plastered next to her bed. He had asked about it once, but she only waved him off. You wouldn’t understand her impact, she had said to him, and went back to shitting about him to her friends. 

Prying away from the poster, his eyes settled on what he came for, settled in the middle of the huge book shelf.

Sofia prided herself with her book and movie collection, a hereditary trait which Vernon shared: the top and bottom shelves were filled with her all-time favourites, even resorting to furthering her obsessions with the merch related to her treasured characters. He remembered laughing at her ideas until he saw a Barbie FunkoPop figure staring back at him one day. That notion was already horrendous, but the black, soulless eyes had guaranteed its spot in his sleep paralysis the next day.

Thankfully, the little horror was not on show on her bookshelf—this time, right in the middle, was the very prize that he sought. 

The Disney Princess Movie Set—Complete Edition.

Packaged in pink casing, Sofia’s most treasured piece sat, almost with its head held high as the other movies orbited around its pull. As far as Vernon remembered, it held all the Princess movies, and was worth at least 6 hours of his wages.

The boy looked around the room, as if his sister would appear any second.

Then, like a thief in the night (even though it was broad daylight, and would definitely be caught), he swiped the set off the bookshelf, and hurried out of her room.

“Sorry, Sofe,” he could only murmur under his breath as he dashed down the stairs, hoping you had not been bored by his absence, and left him with stolen goods at the scene of the crime.

He opened the door adjacent to the shop, and he almost sighed in relief when you perked up, eyes darting straight to your apparent order. When he saw your face light up like fireworks in the night sky, he titled his head back a bit, stunned by your boisterous reaction.

“You actually bought it!” you exclaimed, drumming your hands against the counter as he set the movies down. “I had a feeling you would blow me off.”

“Business is business,” Vernon said, crossing his arms, “Shit taste in movies will not stop me from making my money.”

You clicked your tongue. “Spoken like a business major.”

“Film major, thank you. I would rather kill myself than submit to the horrors of finance.”

“Don’t die on me just yet.” Bringing out your purse, you fished through its contents, first setting your card on the counter. Then, you brought out a crumpled piece of paper. “I actually have a few more films I want to ask about.”

The boy was expecting another long list of early 2000s rom-coms—perhaps an opinion for every Disney movie ever made in its existence. He swore if he had to hear about Rachel McAdams’ versatility one more time, he might blow his brains out in front of a customer. 

Then you dropped the names, and he had to surge his head forward.

“What are your thoughts on Wolf of Wall Street, American Psycho, Pulp Fiction…Fight Club, Saving Private Ryan, Scarface…” You squinted at the list, finding the names neverending. “Jeez, this list keeps going, huh?” 

He could not help the scoff. “And you called me a Filmbro.” He set his forearms on the counter, locking his hands together. “What do you need these movies for?”

“They’re for my ex-boyfriend.” 

The term had him pausing. Of course—the ex-boyfriend. How has he heard of this man, but not know a thing about him? Shit, he did not even know your name.

“This ex of yours has…an interesting taste,” he said slowly. “What’s he like?”

“I can tell you he attends the same college as you. Well, us,” you clarified, jerking your head towards the college colours of your server’s hoodie. “Film major. Just like you, actually.” 

“Oh?” Small world. “What’s the name?”

“Kim Mingyu. Do you know him?” 

Vernon Chwe nearly shit his oversized jeans.

A hesitant nod of his head. “I have a few classes with him.”

“Oh?” Your stare was a little more intense now. “What do you think of him?”

Right. 

Another fated question—the people around him had to stop asking him such controversial questions, or else he was bound to piss someone off. You were already letting him off the hook too many times; one more judgemental comment, and he was having that Princess movie set smashed on his head.

Kim Mingyu. Fuckass Kim Mingyu. Film major—just like him. One of the most popular boys in the year—very unlike him. All the teachers love his essays, all the girls love his freakishly-perfect six-pack, which Vernon is extremely irritated (and devastatingly intimidated) by. 

What all these people failed to realise, though, was that Mingyu was the biggest piece of shit to grace the halls of his university—and the planet, if dramatics were in order. If you thought that Vernon was a filmbro, then Mingyu was Filmbrother. Filmcomrade. Filmnemesis. 

It was as if you could hear the thoughts churning in his head. “You can be honest, you know. He did dump me at the end of the day.” A smirk began to appear. “Say your worst.”

The reassurance did not help. “I mean,” he started, swiping your card, “He’s okay? I haven’t talked to him enough to have an opinion on him.” 

A half-truth—that should suffice. 

But because the fates like to shit on his head every now and then for kicks, they decided to leave you unsatisfied with his answer. “Or, you can keep lying!” 

Excellent intuition, really. “I’m not!” he exclaimed, slapping the card back on the counter. “I really don’t know much about him.”

The big man upstairs was testing him even further, when, with a determined gaze, you set your elbows atop the surface. You leaned closer, tilting your head to the side as you inspected him, and Vernon blinked back at the sheer lack of space you had created. His mouth twisted, eyes frantically darting at the features of your face, not quite taking in the entirety of your being. Your vision seemed to work perfectly, because it caught the slight flush at the tops of his cheeks, where it was just pale skin seconds before.

Your smirk deepened. “Judging by your blush, you’re either terrible at lying…or,” you offered, voice lowering a little as you drummed your fingers against the counter, “You’ve never had a hot girl this close to you.” 

Fuck everything and everyone, because that only made him blush more furiously. You could not help the chuckle that escaped, deciding to cease torturing him and take your card. “I’ll not say the answer, Mr. Filmbro, but I think you already know.”

Since he had no plans of turning into a human form of a ketchup bottle, he evaded the topic entirely, instead focusing on interrogating you. “You still haven’t told me how Mingyu is related to the movie list you made.”

That seemed to hold your interest. “Oh, of course!” Putting the list back into your bag, you began, “Well, the list holds my ex-boyfriend’s favourite films. I wanted to know your opinion on a few.”

He could not contain his sigh. Oh, he had an opinion on these films that you mentioned. Again, he would rather be buried with his thoughts on the specific genre than ever tell you. The curiosity, though, was eventually going to eat him alive.

So much for minding his business.

“I mean…” he began to think, trying to find the right words. “I don’t mind them? Godfather is a good film, but I’ve seen better from Brando. I like American Psycho, but again, people tend to miss the point of the movie.”

As you nodded, listening to his two-cents on the movies you mentioned, he paused, furrowing his brows. “Why do you care about my opinion?”

You smacked your lips together, folding the list back. “I don’t know much about you, Mr. Filmbro,” you began, “But you don’t run a filmstore without knowing a thing or two about the films you sell.”

“So?” He crossed his arms atop the counter. “Shouldn’t you have asked the guy who you made the list about?”

“Trust me,” you said, your smirk turning more into a rageful flash of teeth, “I know exactly what he thinks of these films.”

Don’t particularly know what to make of that comment. “Well, I don’t know what my opinion for these films is going to help you in any way.”

“It has helped.” You paused then, waiting to see if he would egg you on, asking how his seemingly tame opinions would play into the grand scheme of things. “All part of my master plan.”

Master plan? Vernon may have been interested before, but he was certain that, before, he could have hid it without letting you catch onto it. In a sudden flash, though, as if his mouth was beyond his control, he regrettably slipped out the words which had you smiling more than he would have liked.

“What master plan?”

He almost closed his eyes. Shit. Now I’m fucking invested.

The corners of your mouth, lifting upwards, had him almost nervous. “I was hoping you would say that.” 

Great. Brilliant. Fantastic. Fucking Stupendous. Vernon could not think of other pretentious synonyms. “I will tell you, Mr. Filmbro,” you began, once again settling your locked hands on the counter, “If you help me out with it.” 

That had his eyebrow shooting upwards. “What does that mean?”

“Exactly what I intended.” A pause. “Look, I know it’s a little crazy…being asked by someone to help in some mysterious plan. But hey!” you added, “You know who the target is, and you know I can be trusted.”

“Calling your ex-boyfriend a target makes this sound like a contract killing. Also, I actually don’t know that,” he corrected, crossing his arms. “The only thing I know about you is your weird obsession with children’s movies.”

“Well, buddy, that’s basically my entire personality, so you don’t need to know any more!”

Vernon sucked in a breath. “I don’t even know your name.”

Your eyes darted to his features, the sharp brows, the speculative eyes, the flared nostrils. His lips, which were twisted in a curious, bemused line. “That’s an easy problem to solve.” You decided to battle his frown with a smile. “_____.”

_____. At least he knew one important thing about you. He swore Mingyu had mentioned your name before, but then he should not also hold certainty—that boy’s favourite subject had always been himself. 

You snapped him out of his thoughts. “This is when you tell me your name now…or do you enjoy being called a filmbro?”

Man…he could not look you in the eye afterwards. “I don’t…” he got out, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “And it’s Vernon. Chwe Vernon.” 

“Vernon,” you repeated, lips curling upwards. “Alright, Vernon, since both of us know each other’s names, you can definitely help me now!” 

The said-boy tried to smile, which was more a grimace. “Well…”

“Tell you what,” you said, trying to find something in your bag. “Wait, give me a second…shit, where is that piece of paper…?” You finally managed to fish a crumpled piece out. “Right!” After catching sight of a pen lying around the counter, you took it and scribbled something quickly, sending it his way.

Taking it, he looked at the messy scribbles—your number. “You’re looking at it as if I passed you a death threat,” you snickered. Vernon gave an uneasy smile. “Just think it over. I need movie expertise, and there’s no one else I know who can help me more than a guy who runs a film store.”

The boy behind the counter listened to you, paper still in hand. Maybe Mingyu made some points breaking up with you—you did not know who Vernon was, save for the name that was tied to him, and the job he was forced to do by his parents. Realistically, he had to decline, because if he has ever learned something in his life—or from watching a myriad of golden age romantic tragedies—is that you never trust the beautiful, crazy girls. 

“Hey,” he heard you say, and he swore your chirp had softened. “I’ll go ahead with my plan in a week’s time. If I don’t hear from you, then I’ll know your answer. You don’t have to tell me now.” When he looked at you, he saw your expression shift. “That’s why I only gave the paper.” 

He supposed he could appreciate this sentiment. “Thanks,” he could only say, pocketing your number. “Is there…anything else you want? Aside from the—” a snide glance at the DVD set—”the movie?” 

“I saw that,” you scoffed, taking hold of the movie set. “And no, I’m alright. I’ll bother you about children’s movies another time.” 

“I’ll make sure these children’s movies are all conveniently sold out when you come,” he countered without thinking. 

You could only shake your head, trying to contain your laugh. “Careful, or I just might bother you after the plan.” 

Vernon did not know what he felt at that notion—would he want that? However, he did not have time to ponder, since you were already heading for the door. As you nearly left the store, bell ringing, he did not hear the door close. He glanced up, catching you looking at him with an indecipherable expression. “Yes?”

You waited a moment before parting your mouth. “I hope to hear from you, Mr. Filmbro.” 

With that, you swiftly exited the store, leaving this Mr. Filmbro even more helpless than he was between the seven days between your first encounter, and now this very second. 

“JO MADE SENSE WITH FRIEDRICH AT THE END. SHE SIMPLY…NEEDED A MAN AFTER PINING FOR LAURIE.”

The professor listened in the small circle, the rest of the students typing or writing down the answer. “Like, realistically,” Mingyu went on, twisting his mechanical pencil between his fingers, “The whole point of the movie is her relationship with Laurie, and that was shattered the moment he married Amy. Friedrich was like…” he pouted in thought, furrowing his brows. “The light at the end of the tunnel…does that make sense, Minghao?”

The said-man nodded. “Interesting take,” he noted, walking closer to the circle he was teaching. “So you agree that Jo needed Friedrich at the end of the film?”

“Absolutely.”

There were a few murmurs around the room, majority of them agreeing with the golden boy who was sitting at the head of the circular, white table. Vernon, who was sat one girl away from him, typed furiously in his laptop, adding to his notes. MINGYU IS A FUCKING IDIOT…CINEMATICALLY ILLITERATE…BORDERLINE MISOGYNIST…Okay, perhaps he was exaggerating on the last one, but his analysis of the question pissed him off. 

Did Jo need Friedrich at the end of the movie? Was what Professor Minghao had asked them about an hour ago. Vernon knew the answer immediately, and, although did not share it with the seminar, was surprised to be disagreed by the majority of the class. Not surprising, however, when his class was filled with men who could not imagine a woman in a film wanting anything else but a man beside her. 

Whatever, he thought, straying from the web page and instead checking the release date for Oppenheimer when he heard your name crop up amongst the discourse in the table. 

“Did _____ actually?” 

“Oh, yeah, said she thought Jo should have been on her own.” A click of tongue. “Not surprising, coming from her.” 

Vernon instantly perked up, fingers pausing on the keyboard. Not surprising? The boy was actually floored at that opinion—and how valid you were for expressing it. 

“I mean,” another girl, right next to him, chimed in, “Didn’t you say she was really stupid, Gyu?”

“God, I don’t know where to begin,” Mingyu said, aghast, and the boy who eavesdropped felt a little dread at every word that escaped his mouth. “Everytime I watched a movie with her she always got bored, or argued with me when I tried to explain shit to her.” 

“I remember we sat with her while we were tryna do our film project last semester,” the boy beside Mingyu recalled. “She had no fucking clue who Martin Scorcese was, man!” 

The group audibly gasped, save for Vernon, who could not help himself, refusing to mind his business. Nasty habit this—he made a note to call you out for this later on, should you walk into his store again. 

Fuck. He did not want that. Of course he did not. He should stop thinking about it too. 

You, that is.

“She’s gotta be the dumbest one yet, Gyu,” the boy snickered, snapping his laptop shut. 

“You don’t even know the half of it,” the dumper groaned, raking through his locks. “You know she was always watching those fucking Disney princess movies?” Vernon’s eyes widened a little. “Man, I remember she wouldn’t get enough of them. Like, what are you, six? Why the fuck am I watching a movie about a midget dragon?”

Then, Mingyu said the words that made the eavesdropper’s spirits shot down. 

“_____ may have been hot, but she was one stupid bitch. Thank god I got rid of her.” 

The others agreed. He may have spoken more on the matter of your lack of media literacy, but the professor was back, and the seminar had quietened, all in focus. 

All except for the boy who had not given his two cents on the matter, frozen solid at the conversation that occurred. What the fuck was that? He had first thought, over and over to the point that he nearly typed it in the seminar document. He had always known Mingyu was an asshole, but what he said about you gave him a very uneasy feeling.  

What sent him over the edge was that a lot of his grievances sounded identical to Vernon’s own words. 

Miss Disney Hag he had called you—to your face he had insulted your taste in films, and you had only laughed. He wondered how you felt when it was Mingyu amplifying those very opinions on a daily basis. 

A frown marred his features. Damn it. He knew he was a loser, but he did not know he was an asshole. Like Mingyu…

Vernon visibly shivered. 

As Minghao voiced out the objectives for the second half of the seminar, the boy brought his hand into his trouser pocket, slipping out the paper. He looked over your number, the messy scribbles dancing in his eyes. Darting to his phone on the table, he held it in his free hand, looking over the contacts. 

“Damn it,” he said under his breath. 

Was he going to regret this? Most probably. Will you probably make him do something that would result in a fatal injury, and land a permanent stain on his social record? One hundred percent. 

If he knew these things already, then what he should have done was toss the paper in the nearest bin. What he did instead, as he typed in some vital information in his phone, was something that changed his life (or at least the life he will live for the next few weeks).

vernon: u dont have to wait till next week 

vernon: ill help u with the plan

There. And now, he shall wait.

Which, he pondered as he saw the immediate response, was not very long. 

normal disney enjoyer: wait who tf is this??

Oops. 

vernon: oh mb this is vernon lmao

vernon: from the filmstore

normal disney enjoyer: oh damn why didn’t u say so !! freaky ass text 

vernon: ??? ive said it now tf

normal disney enjoyer: and im happy u have ;)

Well. Vernon sighed a little, trying to focus back on his work, but to no avail.

Let’s see what you have in store for the next week.

VERNON WAS WONDERING WHETHER HE STILL HAD TIME TO KILL HIMSELF. 

It could be quick—maybe if he jumped in front of the next incoming car, full speed, he might suffer a haemorrhage in his brain, and die bleeding out as his parents took him to the hospital. Of course, that does mean that it would be slow and excruciating, but he thought that nothing would be as painful as whatever you had planned for him.

Come on…maybe it won’t be that bad. Perhaps his thoughts were spiralling too quickly. Perhaps his assumptions of you were a stretch, and that all this anxiousness, pent up in him, would wash away the moment he saw your car pulling up to the store’s driveway.

He felt himself prepare mentally as, eventually, your small, red car slowed in front of him. Right before him, he saw the passenger window roll down, and he caught sight of your smiling face, teeth showing. 

Perhaps it truly would not be as bad as he imagined. 

“Get in loser, we’re going trespassing.”

Nevermind.

“Oh my God,” was the unsatisfying answer to your perfect reference. Seriously, you should not bother saving your precious material on such a lame boy, but there was something so exciting about his eyes sharply rolling, colour staining the tops of his cheeks. “I’m not doing this if you’re going to quote terrible movies the entire night.”

“First of all, fuck you. Mean Girls birthed half of your customers.” You flicked the lock on the passenger door, pushing it open. “Second, you don’t have a choice. You’ve agreed to ruin Mingyu’s life.”

“First of all yourself, I did not agree to that.” Begrudgingly, he settled shotgun, snapping the car door shut. “Second, Mean Girls was a waste of Rachel McAdams’ talent.” 

You scoffed, starting the car. “I don’t take opinions from men who can’t drive.” 

This shut the boy up nicely, clamping his lips together in quiet shame. He wished he could argue with that—you, he feared, had a good point. Despite that, it was not his fault that his parents insisted on the reliance of public transport; the bus was his greatest villain—aside from the middle school kids in his store that always ask for the next FIFA game. 

You could not help taking a second glance at him, chuckling at his defeat. “Don’t be sad, Mr. FIlmbro,” you reassured him, changing gears. “I like my men a little pathetic.” 

That did not help at all—his eyes widened, gawking at you, but you were already looking ahead, pressing your foot on the accelerator. 

“Jesus!” he exclaimed as he held onto his seat, taken aback by your sudden rush of speed. “I thought you wanted to kill Mingyu, not yourself!”

“My bad,” you only said, turning right. “I’m just so excited! You know, getting there.” 

“I can see that,” he mumbled, looking away from you into the back. Strapped in with the seatbelt, bizarrely, was Sofia’s Disney Princess Set, as if the dozen-movie box was a toddler in need of extra assistance. What the fuck…?

“I’m having these films in pristine condition, Vernon,” you explained, though it still made no sense in his head. “You understand, don’t you?”

Of course not. “Sure.” 

He waited for further explanation, which, as the silence continued, you decided to throw him the conversational bone. “I don’t just carry the set around with me, you know.”

Sure. “Of course not.” 

“It’s relevant to today’s plan,” was all you would offer, speeding more to reach the destination quicker. Vernon held onto the belt a little tighter, still eyeing the movie set rather suspiciously before focusing back on the road. 

The drive was not long—perhaps thirty minutes at most—but he knew he was leaving the rougher parts of the city when nicer neighbourhoods welcomed his vision, the litter on the roads disappearing, instead trees in an orderly line painting the sides of the pavement. The further you drove into these suburbs, the more he was surprised at the sheer luxury of the exterior of these houses; granted, he did not originate from poverty, but his idea of a holiday was three days in the comforts of his bed, bingeing the Miyazaki collection with a lifetime supply of mint chocolate chip ice cream on his lap. 

Vernon had to save his mouth dropping to the seat of the car floor when they rolled into the Kim household’s drive. 

He was aware that Mingyu derived from wealth—the former could not help noticing his pricey, flashy brands every time the taller boy sauntered into the Film Sound classes, but he did not expect this Bridgerton-ass looking house, nestled in between the other million-dollar homes in the neighbourhood. He was greeted with a clearer picture the closer you parked in their drive, surprisingly empty; it was around that moment that you noticed that all the lights were turned off in the house, almost a haunting image. 

The boy was on his way to make a comment about your terrible spying skills when you rebuffed him immediately, saying, “I know what you’re thinking. I have it covered.”

“Please tell me, Miss Bond, how are you planning to carry this out?”

You offered him an incredulous look. “I don’t know what that reference means, I’m too pretty.”

His answer to that was a thin, long line of his mouth. You chose to ignore it completely. “Mingyu’s parents are out of town right now, and his sister’s on a ski-trip in Austria.”

A glance of confusion. “In the middle of March?” 

A shrug. “You know what rich people are like.” Weirdly enough, he knew exactly what you were talking about. “But it worked out great for us.” With a hard exhale you got out of the car, the boy beside you reflecting your actions. “All the easier for what we have to do.” You opened the car door behind the driver’s one, unstrapping the seatbelt and carefully bringing out the movie set. 

“How’re we getting into the evil lair, then?” he asked dryly, crossing both his arms. “I assume the millionaires don’t happen to put a spare key under the carpet?”

“Imagine,” you said, sighing melodramatically. “I tried making them do it so I could sneak into his house, but for some reason, Mingyu never agreed to it.” 

“I wonder why,” he muttered.

“Worry not, young grasshopper!” You strolled to the very right of the house, where a thin wooden door was almost hidden from view. “Where there is a door closed, another is mysteriously open.” 

With a hard push, the door trudged back, swinging heavily away. He stared at it, not quite believing how someone can be so careless to keep their gates unlocked. “Another weakness of Mingyu’s—” You pointed at the cleared path into the house—”whenever he leaves from the garden, he never locks the gate.”

Vernon could not quite believe it. “Either the wealthy are incredibly secured in their safety, or stupid as fuck.”

“I think you know the answer to that,” you joked, going further into the journey, ushering him over. Like a siren calling his name, he followed you, unaware of the shit you might be getting him into. 

Into the fancy garden they arrived, clean-cut hedges bordering in dozens of flower bushes, peppered also with a few fruit trees—berries of every kind ripening on the green. While Vernon admired the natural luxury, you hurried to the nearby shed, where a ladder was situated right beside it. “Quick, help me out here!” you shouted in a whisper, ushering him over. Dropping the DVD set for a moment, you grunted as you held the large ladder up with his assistance, slowly making its way to the brick wall of the house. “Wait, line it up against that window over there,” you instructed, jerking your head towards the far right window, no doubt on the second floor. Once the ladder was lined up properly, you moved the boy out of the way, shaking the rails to make sure it stayed put. 

“I can’t believe we’re actually doing this,” Vernon muttered, watching you take the Disney Princess set in one hand, the other making the first step on the calendar. “We can still…you know, not commit breaking and entering.” 

“You can happily leave, Mr. Filmbro,” you offered, looking up at your destination. 

That had him scoffing. “My ass is not walking two hours back to my house.” 

“That seems more like a you problem then!” you chirped. “Now are you following me up, or pussying out?”

Once again, pussying out seemed like the obvious choice for the boy. He was not made for missions such as these—he was merely meant to watch other people act out said missions in front of his television. Unfortunately, because he was too far away from the film store, it was either sitting it out, waiting for you to come out and do something diabolical, or at least watch over you should you cross a line (if the latter were the case, then Vernon had already failed). 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he kept uttering like a mantra, waiting for you to climb up enough to hold onto the ladder as he began to follow after you. He made the mistake of looking up as you climbed up, and he got a full, HD view of your ass. He tried his very best to look away out of some semblance of respect, but you also made the mindful decision of wearing the shortest skirt known to man. His fuck, fuck fucks! rang louder, causing you to shush him.

“Stop freaking out, my guy!” you called out, right on the top of the ladder. “I know my ass is crazy built but this is not the time.”

“That’s not why I’m freaking out, _____!” he countered, but knowing you, you did not care for his explanations. He only waited as you pushed open the slight-open window, all the way to the top before climbing inside.

As he reached the top of the ladder, he watched you dust yourself before glancing back at him, ushering him inside. “Here goes nothing,” he said to himself, hands on the top of the window ledge as he put his foot on the sill, pushing himself inside. 

Vernon dropped into the unknown room, an oof! leaving his mouth as he landed rather ungraciously on his feet. Quickly, he looked up, surroundings rather dimmed due to the lack of lighting. Still, with the help of the moonlight, he could slowly make out the huge smart TV in the middle of the bedroom, beneath it a wide shelf filled with DVDs, some opened and scattered on the carpeted floor. The bed was on the opposite side, right next to the window the two of you had entered in, black and gold sheets tousled and unmade.

As you turned the light on, the boy then made out that Mingyu, in fact, did not have a bed frame, but just a mattress, with the sheets barely done properly.  The wall on his left was a full black-shutter closet, where he could see the collection of his designer clothing behind the gaps. Posters were plastered on the rest of the walls, most of them being the Tarantino classics —a reclined, raven-bobbed Uma Thurman watching him with bedroom eyes being the most prominent—with certain papers of autographs also stuck next to the posters. There was another poster—American Beauty and the girl surrounded with rose petals—which had him quickly looking away.

“Jesus,” was all he could say, but he supposed he should not have judged. He himself had only his posters in his room—except he did not have the same taste as a middle-aged incel.

“I know.” You looked around at the familiar space, and the memories you had made here. “Imagine having sex in this hellsite.”

Then the image of you having sex with Mingyu on that messy bed came into his mind, and Vernon could have combusted then and there. “I can’t imagine,” he mumbled out, walking to the door, opening to make sure no one was inside. “_____, are you sure no one’s here?”

“Swear on my life, Mr. Filmbro.”

He had to trust you now—or you had very little respect for your life. 

He kept eyeing the DVD set you had in your hand. “Are you still not gonna tell me what we’re doing with that?”

You marched over to the shelf beneath the TV, settling yourself down. “Come here and I’ll show you.” You patted the empty carpet space next to you for added emphasis.

Hesitantly, he obliged, sitting cross-legged next to you. Finger pointing as it scoured the shelf, you carefully brought out one of the films from Mingyu’s selection, all the while sliding out a Disney film from your own set. “Now, tell me,” you began, as you showed him the two movies. “Do you think The Dark Knight and Mulan are a good match?”

First pulling a face at the choice, he then resorted to keeping his twist of features as he turned to you. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“So like, you know Mulan is a woman disguising herself as a soldier in order to defeat the Huns and save her father’s honour, right,” you explained, though you had a small feeling he was not particularly listening. “And Batman is the same thing, except he dresses up as a fucking bat…stupid furry.”

Vernon could not understand how you compared one of the most beautiful, nuanced depictions of a broken, three-dimensional superhero into a furry, but he needed to get to the bottom of your plan, once and for all. “No, I mean, what are you doing? Why the hell are we here?” 

You tutted extra loud. “I’m gonna swap the CDs, dumbass!” You held up the princess movie. “Thought Mingyu could say to me that Disney princess movies sucked, huh?” Then, the classic DVD’s turn to rise. “Let’s see how he’ll like watching a talking dragon in China instead of a talking bat in Fantasyland!” 

The boy could only watch, shock growing with the successful swap of the movies, the secret Mulan CD safely tucked into the The Dark Knight’s DVD case. “It’s Gotham, actually,” he murmured, but he knew you were not listening. “Wait, _____, we really just snuck into your ex’s house to swap a few movies?”

You looked up briefly as you began opening another DVD case. “I mean, if you want to trash the place, that’s fine, but you can’t do anymore than what Mingyu’s dirty ass hasn’t done already.”

Fair point. “I think you’re going insane. Like, clinically.” He kept looking at the door, which was closed shut. “He’ll kill us if he catches us.” 

“Forget about us, you’re barely doing anything!” you exclaimed, tossing some of Mingyu’s movies to him. “Can you actually help me instead of complaining?”

What he should have done was argue with you properly, perhaps even make his escape and leave you to dig your own grave. Sure, he could not drive, but was it not just three pedals, a wheel and a dream? He could have left, never to see you again. 

But then his eyes wandered to the Inception DVD scattered beside you, no doubt collateral damage as you took out the other Nolan films, and saw a Disney Princess movie sitting beside it. Sleeping Beauty, it read out, with the picture of some skinny blonde chick slumbering with a man overlooking her. He thought it a bit strange, almost creepy how this brunette was watching her. 

And then an idea came into his head. 

He closed his eyes for a fleeting moment, clamping his lips together. Please forgive me, Mr. Nolan, for what I’m about to do. 

Hand reaching out to grasp both DVDs, he opened one of his favourites, unclipping the CD. You glanced at him, swapping the movies around. You could not help your stare lingering a little, watching his lips pout, brows furrowed as he fixed the new CD in the Nolan set, as if the task was a serious one. Well, it was a serious task for you, but you expected more complaining. 

When he looked up, he managed to catch a small smile on your lips before he quickly looked away. “And now you’re slacking,” he accused, closing the DVD and setting it atop the newly improved. 

“What’s the plot for Inception?” you asked him, cracking open The Princess and The Frog. 

“I thought you knew, since you laughed at me for saying it was my favourite.” 

“I don’t know the full thing,” you admitted. “The only reason I knew about it was because Mingyu never shut up about it…sorry about that, by the way.” 

Vernon sighed. “It’s fine…if I made fun of your Disney favourites, then bullying me for Nolan isn’t the worst…I think.” He looked at your new suggestion before picking out Alien from Mingyu’s selection. “A thief has to implant an idea into this powerful guy’s mind, and he does this through infiltrating other people’s dreams. However, he has to be asleep while he does it.” 

As you began to laugh, he threw you an irritated look. You shook your head, unable to erase your smile. “That’s a really good match.” 

His eyes widened for a moment, mouth parting. For a moment (and he did not know whether he was going to regret making this assertion), he did not care for Christopher Nolan’s disrespect, after seeing your reaction.

With that, the two of you sat in near silence, the crisp opening and closing of the DVDs, the sliding of the discs being the only sound between the two of you. The Princess of the Frog was successfully matched with the Alien—you, unsurprisingly, had not watched the movie, but Vernon had watched both (one against his will, which you could guess), and thought it the best match. Brave was slotted into The Revenant's case, while Beauty and the Beast went straight into Pan’s Labyrinth’s. 

“Okay so…” the boy held up the Pocahontas CD. “Native American princess falls for the coloniser? How the fuck are you defending this?”

You could only offer a sheepish smile. “The soundtrack is really good?”

“Knowing Disney,” he crowed, cracking open the DVD, “They probably have a song on how terrible the poor Natives are.”

You eyed him, surprised. “How the hell did you guess that?”

First, Vernon made a face, as if he himself could not believe his excellent intuition. Then, he only laughed a little, taking out the Dances with Wolves DVD from the shelf. “I’ve watched enough Disney movies with my sister to know how they work.”

“Oh, so you have watched them?” you mused, watching him exchange the discs. “All that time I thought you only watched what Mingyu watched.”

“No, I watch foreign indie films like an asshole,” he clarified, shutting the cases, and putting Dances with Wolves back on the shelf. “The thing is, I still have my grievances against the super popular films. You know the list you mentioned to me the other day?” You nodded. “Most of these film junkies get off on those movies. I’ll admit I like them, but I’ve seen so much better.” 

You snorted. “Like Inception?” Vernon watched you for a moment, biting the inside of his cheek. “What? You asked him, tilting your head. 

He followed your movement—he too, craned his head, his brown curls cascading along his forehead. “Like Inception…and better.”

“Better?” you gasped out, fingers rising to your bottom lip in shock. “Does Mr. Filmbro prefer a movie over Nolan’s grand—no, best release ever?!”

“Ha, ha,” he monotoned, only adding to your amusement. “It’s still his best film! But,” he added, shrugging a little, “I may or may not have lied to you the first time we met. Inception’s not my favourite movie.”

“What?!” you could barely contain your grin. “Oh my God, if I find out it’s a fucking Disney movie, I’m never letting you live it down!”

“Let’s not go that far,” he jeered, earning a harsh nudge of your elbow. “Hey! You should be thanking me for my honesty.”

“How about you extend that honesty and tell me which movie is your favourite?” 

Vernon mocked a ponder. “It’s a hard pass.” 

“Come on!” you pressed, scooting a little closer, almost reaching out as if to nudge him some more. “You’ve already committed a felony with me. Telling me your favourite movie is naturally the next step.” 

“Because that’s obviously how normal human interaction goes,” he countered, sarcasm clear in his voice.

“Tell me.” 

“No.”

“Tell me!” 

“Hmm…no!” he repeated, assembling the last of the DVDs. “Maybe if we raid Mingyu’s house next time.”

“Oh?” Leaning closer, you paused his hands on the movie sets. “Do you want there to be a next time?”

It was then Vernon realised the implications of your question, a consequence of his own suggestion. It was almost comical, how his eyes widened like full moons, and he immediately shook his head. “Now you know that’s not what I meant.” 

“Then what did you mean?” you asked him, and the way he exposed a slight stutter at your question had you laughing. “Would you want to see me again?”

What Vernon wanted to tell you was no, no, no, because another second with you would end with all the blood in his system rushing to his head, and other places. Damn everything and everyone, he would want to see you again—no. No. He wouldn’t. He would not. 

“You haven’t answered the question,” you said, snapping him out of his thoughts. 

The boy was about to stutter out an answer when the two of you heard a door slam downstairs. 

You whirled back, eyes instantly darting to the door. They then focused back on you, widened very much like his not long ago. “_____,” Vernon muttered. 

“Mr. Filmbro…”

The furrow of his brow appeared for a split-second before it disappeared at the shuffling underneath. “What the fuck do we do?” he gulped out, looking around to find anywhere to escape from. This was it—he thought he was getting away with trespassing just because you had convinced him to, but that fuckass ex-boyfriend was going to catch them in his bedroom, two inches away from kissing you, and—

“Wait,” you then said, catching his wrist in your hand. He barely had time to react to it before you shot up from your seated position, hauling the boy along with you. He stumbled, but then you nearly made him fall flat on his face as you ran to the shutter closets, sliding them straight open. The inside was a mess of branded clothing and boxes of sports equipment, but there was one opening with just enough for two people in trouble to hide. 

You first went in, and, with a harsh tug, pulled him in with you. He crashed into you, but you had enough control to slide the shutter door shut. There was so much commotion that when you both finally stilled, breathing harshly as you heard Mingyu enter the room, Vernon blinked back to see your face about two inches away from him. 

He was going to yelp—strong on going to, because you sensed his incoming shock, and smacked your hand against his mouth. His eyebrows could have touched the top of his forehead, but what you noticed the most was the warmth of his skin, burning the longer your touch lingered on his lips. 

The smile you offered him as you put a finger to your lips had him almost passing out. 

“Yeah, man, come round whenever,” was all Vernon could hear, still not comprehending Mingyu’s speech due to your hand. “No, Minseo’s not here, what the fuck? Why do you wanna know where my sister is?” 

Slowly, ever so carefully as not to alert him, you pulled down on one of the blinds of the shutter, spying the movie which he was about to see. Vernon should have been following your movements, but he could only sense you, inching closer and closer to him till you were pressed against him. Of course, you were only trying to better your vision of your ex-boyfriend, but the boy beside you could not focus. The hand on his mouth—God—he needed, so badly, to be put down. Your fingers were soft, and although his lips could not help brushing against your palm, everything in him resisted the urge to react.

Quickly glancing at your accomplice in glee, you dropped your hand from his mouth, silently urging him to watch. He could have rebelled against your pulling away, but he instead obliged. Bringing his face next to yours, he glanced at you one last time before peering at the vision that welcomed. 

There he was, the golden boy, raking his hair as he strolled into the middle of the room, observing the TV before him, and the DVD player sitting at the bottom. He kept humming, as if agreeing with whoever was on the phone. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll go to that party later…no, I’m not bringing _____! You know about that already!” 

The boy in hiding quickly snuck a peek at you, who soured a little at the mention. “Hmm? Yeah, whatever. What? Nah, I’m just gonna watch a chill movie before leaving.” Mingyu scanned the films on his shelf. Walking over, he leaned down, sliding out The Shape of Water from his collection, cradling his phone between his shoulder blade and his craned head as he opened the DVD. 

Vernon could not help pulling a face at Mingyu’s choice of a ‘chill movie’ being a film about a mute woman wanting to fuck a water creature. You probably did not understand the reference, but by the growing anticipation on your face, you only cared about the scene you two had created, and was about to unfold just then. 

Mingyu slid the CD into the player, pressing play as he made his way to his frameless bed, settling down in the sheets. “Yeah…no, no, it’s just starting.”

The two of you could hear clearly the opening credits, which began with the most obnoxious opening music of Disney’s intro. Vernon was taken aback by how Mingyu did not realise it from that very moment, but considering he was too busy chatting pure shit on the phone, laughing to himself, the boy assumed he was simply waiting for the action to occur.

“Any minute now, Mr. Filmbro,” you whispered, oh-so-fucking close to him. He did not respond, merely a nod.

Craning his head to see through the shutters, he noticed the animation come to life, the ship within dangerous waters sailing with uncertainty. He snuck a quick glance at Mingyu’s face, which started garnering a little confusion. 

“Are these extra credit scenes? I don’t remember any of this,” he heard the OG filmbro complain. 

You could not help the snort that escaped you. Vernon glared at you, but with little effect. “What?” you whispered. “I don’t remember him being this thick.” 

“What the fuck is this cartoon…” the two of you heard Mingyu pipe up. Finally, the buffoon is realising this is not the two-time Oscar winning animation, but the four-time Oscar winning CGI. “This wasn’t in the director’s cut.”

You still could not believe how your ex-boyfriend was taking this long for the realisation to hit. Even when Eric jumped up on the screen, holding onto the ship’s ropes, the watcher only regarded the character intently, as if he was somehow part of the stranger film. 

Only when, fifteen minutes in, Atlantis is finally introduced that something clicked in his brain. Mingyu tilted his head, thinking out loud. “What the fuck…?”

Getting up from where he sat, he ended the call, informing whoever was on the other side that he would meet later. He took out the CD from the player, examining its exterior. “Can’t see shit on this CD…” He was not wrong—you were smart, choosing the discs which did not have any images, confusing the boy all the more. “Maybe I put in the wrong one…”

He shrugged it off, taking out The Dark Knight instead, another easy, breezy movie to watch when The Shape of Water did not pull through. Now Nolan was a hard one to criticise—Vernon himself was a huge fan, but seeing Mingyu try to watch it irked him. A good thing, then, was it not, that he was bound for a second surprise?

Repeating the routine, he slid the secret CD, settling back into his frameless bed. “Great minds, huh?” you whispered to him, and Vernon only rolled his eyes, not enjoying the dig against him in the slightest. 

“You dated him,” he griped, watching the movie start up.

“Waste of good looks,” you whispered, your partner-in-crime nodding in agreement. The movie beginning had you both falling silent as a bird of prey hits on one of the soldier’s heads. The scene is set in the cold mountains of China, but the sole audience does not catch it immediately. 

“So fucking weird…” Mingyu trailed off again, leaning forwards. “This isn’t the robbery scene…”

Of course it was not—the idiot would not witness one of the best film openings in Vernon’s humble opinion. He would not feast his eyes to the workings of Joker’s bank robbery, nor the cold one-liners from the incapacitated bank manager. 

No, what he was served was the Huns crossing the Northern border, which, as the boy finally began to clock after a good ten minutes, was not what he was expecting.

“What the…” once again, he heaved himself up, walking over to the player. “Now I know something’s wrong…”

Both you and Vernon stretched further close, as much as the closet would allow, to peek at Mingyu’s frustration as he brought the CD out once more, examining the back and front. He then took out some more of his favourites, opening their cases and taking out the CDs, observing them closely. He was suspicious now. How could he not be, when he was expecting incel excellence, but was greeted with the same shit his younger sister—his crazy ex-girlfriend, even—would usually watch.

He blinked back. 

His deathly stillness had the two trespassers pausing. You two looked at each other, faces losing any humour, perhaps recognising that he had clocked on. You watched the scene as Mingyu rapidly added one CD after another, expecting one movie only to have a Disney-fied replacement, completely botching his plans. Every movie that received such Disneyfication further enraged him, the grit in his teeth heard, the tick in his jaw visible. 

The final straw was when the Godfather was slotted in, his all-time, unmatched favourite. There was darkness for the first few minutes, and he sighed too quickly in relief, about to lay back on his mattress. 

Then, a curly-haired girl, a toddler at best, in huge green glasses becomes visible, being told to open her eyes. 

“Is this where magic comes from?”

“What the fuck?!”

And as a conversation between the little girl and her elderly grandmother blossomed, there was a specific dialogue which sent the young boy over the edge.

“This candle became a magical flame that would never grow out…and it blessed us with a refuge in which to live…a place of wonder…An Encanto.”

You nearly burst out laughing. 

Mingyu, on the other hand, could have seen red. 

“Who fucked with my CDs?!” he demanded to no one in particular, though in his mind he knew there was a culprit. “My fucking CDs, man!” 

“Did you do the Godfather swap?” you whispered, barely able to contain yourself.

“Two special families with one heir that doesn’t feel connected to their lifestyle.” Vernon grinned at you, impressed with himself. “It was too easy.”

“Where did you even find the Encanto DVD? It wasn’t in our set.” 

“I found it in his little filmbro shelf.” He ticked his head towards the boy in physical agony. “My guess is that his sister is a Disney fan and left it in his mancave.”

“Oh my God,” you got out, watching the melodramatic scene of your dear ex show rage akin to a teenage boy losing Call of Duty online. 

“That fucking bitch,” he guttered, over and over again as he threw the Encanto CD across the room. Those words came out, and the boy behind the shutters stiffened. Okay—there is rage, and then there is straight up promise of violence. Vernon may not be much of a knight, but if they were caught, he knew he would have to protect you.

He hoped to everything that existed that it would not have to come to that—Vernon would rather fake having a heart attack and have you drag his body out of the Kim Manor. 

It seemed as that might have been a real possibility, until the boy called out a threat to a name they were not expecting.

“Minseo, I’m gonna kill you!” Mingyu roared as he stormed out of the room, undoubtedly on his way to destroy her room, even take his anger out on her Jellycat collection.

As you heard his frenzy disappear down the halls, the trespassers took this as the opportunity to escape the closet, Vernon already creating a little distance in case you come too close and cause his passing out.

“We need to get out now,” he declared as you crept out of the wardrobe, his head whipping to the door which Mingyu left from. 

You nodded, not quite looking at him as you dashed straight for the final DVD. “Oh, Jesus,” He groaned, watching you scramble for the movie, trying horrifically to hide it within your clothes. “You do realise he can come in any second!” 

“Okay, okay,” you said, hurrying over to the window. “Wait, you can go first.”

Vernon raised a brow, following after you. “How come you don’t want to go first?”

You only ushered him further, grinning. “You can peek at my ass again.”

“My eyes will be closed,” he sniped, already carrying it out, trying his absolute best not to imagine your ass in his mind—maybe stakeouts for goofy purposes were not for the weak-willed. “You know, just for that alone, you’re going down first.” 

“Whatever suits you, Mr. Filmbro,” you almost chanted, aggravating him all the more as you stepped out of the window, beginning the trek down. 

He looked down as you descended with one film in hand, still stealing glances at the only door in the room, terrified that the boy would burst through the door, see you both and bring about his downfall. Subconsciously, his fingers hovered just before his mouth, biting the skin around his nails. He knew he should have run himself over with an oncoming vehicle. A messy plan, but still fool-proof. 

“Stop panicking and come down here!” your voice snapped him out of his anxious frenzy. “I know you’re biting your nails off right now!”

The boy instantly repelled his hand, instead furrowing his brow. A little irritating—scary, as well, really—how predictable he was in your eyes. How quickly you had figured him out.

“Alright,” he said, absent-mindedly as he reached for the windowsill. He peaked down again, not realising how far down the descent truly was. Rationally, he knew it was not the worst drop he’d seen on the first floor, but the nerves had started affecting his mind. Now, this entire time he was watching you take one step, two steps down, but he did not have the strength to follow you. 

Still, he knew it was now or never.

Vernon was going to be at your heels (or, more anatomically correct, at your head) when he heard a shuffle from behind him.

He whipped his head around, anticipating the worst.

The worst arrived in all his golden-skinned, empty-headed glory. Holding one of his DVDs, Kim Mingyu stood at the doorway, his eyes widening with every second they beheld the intruder, one leg out of the house, the other a moment away from heaving him up.

Oh. Jesus. Christ.

“The nerd from film theory?”

Vernon’s face dropped. 

The Nerd from Film Theory? The Nerd from fucking Film Theory? 

It was then and there, in that exact moment of time, that the filmbro in question did not give a single care for what the popular boy thought of him. Vernon knew everything about this boy (whether he wanted to or not); his every class, his every terrible friend, even his film preferences, thanks to yours truly. Yet Mingyu did not even know his name—did not even bother to remember.

It was because of that that he managed to garner some essence of his bravado, finally settling both feet on the ladder steps. 

He also decided to add in some corrections to Mingyu’s knowledge. 

“Jo March did not need any man after Laurie…in fact, she did not need any male support, asshole.”

For added effect, he raised his middle finger, as if the burn was sick enough to hurt. 

Mingyu’s devastating response was a confused tilt of his head, clearly not understanding his reference. 

It was enough time for Vernon to hurry his descent down, catching the former more off guard. 

“What the fuck—” was all the boy heard before he quickly tried to travel downwards, feet nearly slipping on the steps by his sheer carelessness. Mingyu’s head popped out from the window, and saw the great ladder leaning against the sill, shocked gaze lowering to where Vernon was descending to.

When his eyes found yours, he could have choked on his gulp. Even more so when you smirked at him.

“_____?”

As Vernon finally dropped off the ladder, dusting himself off, he watched the two of you, staring each other down. When he gauged Mingyu’s fear of you, there was a small part of him that was filled with admiration.

Mingyu’s demand sounded more like a whimper. “What are you doing here?”

You only curled your lips further upwards, grinning like a wild animal. It chilled your ex-boyfriend to the bone when you held the Tangled CD up for him to see, with your other hand raising your middle finger. 

“This is for calling me a stupid bitch.”

His mouth dropped open. That gave you just enough time to grab onto Vernon’s hand, enveloping your fingers around his wrist. 

And run for your life.

Vernon let out a yelp as he was yanked forward by your hold, barely hearing Mingyu’s loud curses and retreating back into the house, no doubt to follow after you two—the trespasser could only guess, much too occupied by your hand, a guiding beacon of mischief, never absent in his life as you ran and ran and ran out of the garden, out of the sleek maze which you two first entered, catching sight of the open garden gate.

The boy heard distant footsteps coming from the house, and as you both saw your car parked beyond the greater gates, you fished out your keys, finally letting go of his hand to dash over to the driver’s side, jamming the key in the lock. Vernon let out a startled noise as the car unlocked, wasting no time to jump inside, heart beating loud enough for the entire neighbourhood to hear. Mingyu appeared at the main doorstep at the exact same time, even more shocked to realise he had not noticed his ex-girlfriend’s car casually parked before him. 

Just as you climbed inside, swivelling the keys into ignition, Mingyu began to run after the car, a mere ten seconds between him and catching you two.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, _____, just start it already!” the nervous boy in shotgun begged, his head swivelling back at every chance, heart lurching at every metre closer the filmnemesis crept.

The car revved to life at your signal.

It was time to get the fuck out of here. 

“GO, GO, GO!” Vernon screamed at the top of his voice, fisting the handle at the roof of the car as you slammed on the accelerator, racing out of the driveway with Mingyu’s bellowing following after you. Of course, since he was a mere, enraged college student, and you both were in a (slight) state-of-the-art vehicle, you zoomed out of the neighbourhood, his curses fading with every turn further out, you managing to escape. 

Vernon, because he had never done such a thing before, was still screaming to leave for the next ten minutes until you had had enough, swerving to the side of the road, not far from his DVD store. You almost crashed into the nearby park, frightening a few birds that expected peace within the sidewalk trees, only to be disturbed by a troublesome ex and a film-obsessed loser. 

You gushed out an exhale, fingers gripping tightly to the wheel, almost as stunned as the boy beside you, who seemed to take in the town’s worth of air in his little body. But then, you realised the gravity of the situation, the sole movie at the back which could not be swapped, and the valiant escape from something you never thought you would come out of alive.

Just then, you burst into laughter. 

The boy whirled his head to you, who could not stop the tumbles of laughter that escaped your mouth, hanging on to the car wheel as you cackled and cackled like the Wicked Witch of the West. Well, that was what you thought you sounded at that time, but you, as always, did not care.

Only that you were wrong—at least in Vernon’s eyes. You were wrong, because if you were laughing like some Disney villain, then he would have been more pissed off—enraged even. He was instead in awe, shocked at the raw guffawing that spluttered out of you without shame. Had the two of you not evaded a great danger? Nearly been arrested for your legally ambiguous behaviour? 

For the first time in his life, he was not embroiled with dread. 

There was no anxiety in his body, no essence of panic at the consequences of your actions. No, he could only stare at you and your mirth, and find himself raising his brows, the beginnings of a scoffed laugh creeping from his lips. 

The more he looked at you, the more his own laughter joined yours. 

And then you were both laughing, giggling beyond control at the narrow escape, and the near crash against some tree. Vernon knew how stupid this whole situation was, but strangely, he did not seem to care—not when you did not see it like that. A very odd prospect. 

After a few minutes, when it finally seemed as if you would settle down, you sighed, leaning back into the driver’s seat. “We should do that again.”

Despite the amusement lingering, he immediately shut the idea down. “Not a chance.”

You admired the ancient lining of the tree’s bark in front of the car. “The way you were laughing with me just now, you’d think you want to commit crimes from now on.” 

A dramatic roll of eyes. “I’m not going to jail. They don’t even have a TV there.”

“You and your fuck ass movie collection…”

That brought out another chuckle from the boy—you smiled at the notion. He then looked at the rearview mirror, where the last movie was splayed, all alone and away from the others. “Kind of a shame we missed out on one last movie.”

“Right?” You followed his line of sight. “Fuck, Tangled of all movies?”

“Wait, isn’t that the one with Rapunzel?” 

You let out an impressed hum. “A week of seeing my face, and you’re already catching on!” A mischievous raise of brows. “Another month with me and you can sing all the tracks from the film.”

“You really shouldn’t have this much faith in me, _____,” he said, shaking his head. “Plus, this might be the one movie I didn’t watch with Sofe.” He saw you perk up at the new name. “My sister. She’s the one who forced me to watch all those Disney films years ago.”

“I like her already,” you mused, a finger on your chin. You paused for a bit, looking down at your shoes, settled lightly upon the pedals. Then, you started the engine once more.  “So…Tangled is the only one you haven’t watched, huh.” 

A glance at you. “Yep.” 

You looked back, hoping to reverse away from the tree. “Right…” You checked your watch, the car slowly moving out of the pavement. “Interesting…super duper interesting.”

It was something insane, fantastical the way Vernon’s nerves seemed to hum at the implications. “I don’t like where this is going.”

“What? I just said that it’s interesting you’ve never watched Tangled…”

The boy scoffed, crossing his arms. “This is where you’re gonna force me to watch the stupid movie.” 

But then he caught the look of surprise on your face, as if you had been caught. “Oh, Jesus, you’re not gonna let me out the car, are you?”

“No, no!” you countered at once, raising your hands. “Well, yes as in I was hoping you would watch the movie with me, and no, I won’t force you.” You sighed a little, fingers back on the wheel. “You’ve already done so much today. If you want to go home, I’ll drive you straight there.”

He watched your expression, the prepared acceptance, the anticipation—the sliver of hope, hiding itself amongst the flurry of other emotions. In all honesty, he was tired; the entirety of this evening had exhausted his social battery (which he doubted he had to begin with) and he still had some sound image work left back at the college studio. If it was any other person asking, he would have happily bunked them off—pretended that he had suddenly developed a terminal illness in the span of minutes, and begged them to drive him back home to ‘live out the rest of his days’.

You, on the other hand, were a problem. He could not let you down—not anymore. Not after today.

When he let out a soft sigh, you were anticipating the worst. Then, he revealed the answer. 

“Let’s watch a fucking Disney Princess movie.”

VERNON DID NOT WANT TO WATCH A FUCKING DISNEY PRINCESS MOVIE. 

The moment you opened the door to your house—a shabby, student house about twenty minutes from campus—stepping inside, he realised there was no way back, and that he had to humour your wish, or else lose respect in your eyes. 

As you brought him down the small hallway, leading into the little living room, you quickly grabbed the takeout boxes of your flatmates, murmuring hurried apologies as you left the room. The boy looked around, the slight cracks of the blue walls, the 32” TV sitting at the opposite end of the fraying couches. Posters of Bridget Jones, Notting Hill, and other Hugh Grant movies were plastered on one end of the wall, while Vernon nearly had a jumpscare when he caught a life-size cardboard cutout of some Disney hero—this one unrecognisable. 

“That’s the love of my life you’re staring at,” came the voice behind him, and he whirled to see you, a huge bowl of popcorn cradled in your hands. “Why’re you standing in the middle like an idiot? Sit, sit!” Vernon obliged, making to settle on the sofas when you tutted. “Are you mental? No, sit on the bean bags near the TV!” 

How stupid of me to assume I could sit on furniture designed for sitting, he meant to crow, but the moment he settled on the bean bags, he instantly preferred their malleable comfort. When he let out a relaxed sigh, you huffed out a laugh, propping the bowl before him. “See?” 

“I was gonna say…” Vernon trailed off, watching you press a few buttons on the DVD player. “Where’s the CD?”

“Already in,” you said, picking up the remote as you settled in the beanbag next to him, scooting closer. Catching a look at his face, you bellowed, “Yes, Mr. Filmbro, I watched it recently!”

“How recently are we saying?”

“...yesterday evening.” 

“And this is the masterpiece you wanna show me,” Vernon murmured, sneaking a look back at the cardboard cutout. “Don’t tell me he’s the floozy that’s leading the film.” 

You turned the TV on. “Fine. I won’t tell you.”

He then looked at you. “Oh, Jesus.”

“Trust me!” you then reasoned, putting a hand on the boy’s knee—the mere touch had his brain rewiring, nerves all ceasing to work on the one point where your touch remained. You really had to stop—first your hand was on his mouth in that damned (blessed) closet, and now this soft reminder. He tried his best not to fix his eyes on your lingering fingers as you carried on, “This film is a modern classic. I promise.” 

Well shit, he thought. When you looked at him like that, you could have convinced him that Quentin Tarantino was a better foot fetishiser than a filmmaker. 

“Okay,” he said, almost believing in your words. 

With that, the landing page for the movie turned on, and there were the main characters; he assumed the chick with the long, blonde hair was Rapunzel, and the man behind her—which, Vernon thought, did not deserve to be celebrated as a life-sized cardboard cutout—was the love interest. Whatever. 

“Let’s just get this over with,” he mumbled as you pressed the fated Play, anticipating the worst. 

And as the two of you fell silent, Vernon still holding out on the popcorn, watching suspiciously at the screen, the voice of a man flooded the TV speaker.

“This…this is the story of how I died.” 

The boy immediately reacted, face dropping. “The fuck?” he got out, catching the WANTED! Poster of the very man he bad-mouthed not two minutes ago. 

“But don’t worry, this is actually a fun story…and the truth is…it isn’t even mine.” 

“Wait, this dude is already dead?” he asked.

“Just watch the movie!” you answered impatiently, making the boy sigh and lean back into the bean bag.

“This is the story of a girl named Rapunzel. And it starts…with the sun.”

You wanted to keep your eyes rooted to the screen, watch the unfurling of Mother Gothel’s backstory, but that was precisely when the incessant complaining began. 

“Now why are we already getting context of some random witch’s actions? Less telling, more showing, man!” Vernon kept his arms crossed, shaking his head at the TV. “Oh, great, poor little king and queen in their big ass castle!” 

“Having basic sympathy will take you great places, my guy,” you merely said, scoffing down the popcorn in the bowl. “Their kid just got stolen by some crazy bitch.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he murmured, piping down once more when the flashbacks ceased, and the present day was introduced into the story. On the screen, a small, green chameleon entered, camouflaging himself behind a pot of flowers. He guessed that the chick with the long hair—Rapunzel—would be finding him, and, lo and behold, he was right. In all fairness, though, it did not take a film degree to work that out.

He also did not need a film degree to guess that a musical number was about to be introduced, not even ten minutes into the movie. That he worked out all by himself, when the guitar riffs sounded. Beside him, you instantly brightened, smile widening as TANGLED morphed on the screen, the song about to begin. 

It was around that point when, as he spared you a glance, he realised you were about to sing along.

“Oh, Jesus—”

If his life was a romantic film, this would have been the perfect setup; the girl that made his heart flutter was seated dangerously close to him, bean bags already touching with shoulders barely following, watching the cheesiest animated movie. He could have seen the shot now, with his gaze turning rose-y as you would open your mouth and sing along to the song. Of course, you would sing beautifully, better than the original singer, and he would sit there, absolutely mesmerised. 

Oh, he was stunned alright. 

“SEVEN AM THE USUAL MORNING, LINE UP—!”

The boy flinched at the sheer volume of your chant—screech would be the better word for it, for he guessed singing was not one of your natural talents. 

You could not see his judgement at all, eyes closed and clutching your fists to your chest, continuing the song. “START ON THE FLOOR AND SWEEP TILL THE FLOOR’S ALL CLEEEEEANNNN—!”

A scoff escaped him, not quite believing the scene before him. He was shocked to silence, the movie’s music now in his background, the forefront being your attempt to outsing the princess. Either no one had told you how horrendous your singing was, or you simply did not care for the opinions of others. A part of him hoped that it was the latter—for you to be so comfortable in singing away, despite what others thought, made his judgement disappear. 

Shamelessly you sang the entire number, up to the point where the scene cuts and the supposedly hot love interest—whose name was Flynn Rider, apparently, which he should have known if he just read the poster at the start of the movie like a normal viewer—was now trying to steal the crown jewels. 

Vernon was too busy thinking about how stupid ‘Flynn Rider’ was as a name to realise that another song had just started. Immediately you changed your tune, your tone lowering, almost sultry. 

This time, you looked at him when you started singing. 

“Look at you, as fragile as a flower…”

“Ayo?” A glance at the TV screen, where Mother Gothel was now singing. “Another song?”

But you did not answer his question, only singing further as you reached your hand out to him. “Still a little sapling, just a sprout!” You continued, and, at that, your hand patted his mess of curls atop his head, mirroring Mother Gothel’s actions. 

Blinking back repeatedly, he could not even shrug it off, stunned once again by how you were casually able to touch him and not feel anything—while his entire system shuts down like a lagging desktop when it tries to run the Sims. 

The overdramatic flair was present in your singing, changed from the sweetness of the previous song. It was crazy how you remembered each word, not slipping at any chorus—you were a true fan, a committed admirer of the film. Even he could not comprehend knowing every single line of his favourites. 

It was admirable indeed—to love a film as you did this one.

It was what made Vernon smile a little, turning away from your melodrama and focusing on the screen, where Mother Gothel now threatened to never be asked to leave the tower. Again.

This time, he would give the movie a chance. Thank God he decided to wake up.

The movie picked up the pace instantly—he had not expected Flynn to meet—and be whacked out by Rapunzel’s frying pan—so quickly, and had reflected her dejection when the mother screamed at her. He could tell where this was going, especially with the thief now in the closet, but he found himself grabbing a handful of popcorn from the bowl without turning away from the screen.

By the time the third song of the movie came around, he was taken aback that it arrived further in, surrounded by the thugs of the Snuggly Duckling. Without realising, he turned to you, anticipating you breaking out into a song, but you were merely watching the movie, bobbing your head along to the beat.

Noticing his stare, you glanced at him. “Expecting a show?”

“Since you were giving them out without request, I figured this time would be like any other.”

You snorted, grabbing the popcorn. “I’m saving my heavenly voice for the best song, actually.”

Vernon mocked a gasp. “So you’re telling me Mother Knows Best isn’t the best feature?”

“Don’t chat shit, Mr. Filmbro, because Mother Knows Best is one of the top five.”

“I look forward to seeing which song you’re holding out for,” he only said, turning back to the movie again. The popcorn ran out about this time, and you shot up from your bean bag, promising more as you exited the room, leaving him to continue. 

By the time you returned, the protagonists were escaping, chaos ensuing all around them with the guards, his partners and that eccentric white horse chasing them. Ending up in the cave, they recognise a lack of way out, and although Vernon was aware that the movie ends on the happiest note, a small part of him filled with dread. 

That dread disappeared instantly when Flynn confessed his little secret.

“Eugene Fitzherbert?!” The boy demanded.

You chuckled at his disdain. “Yeah, Flynn Rider was hotter. Eugene Fitzherbert ages him about forty years.”

“Flynn Rider was silly, but Eugene is straight up diabolical.” 

“He is still fuckable regardless!” you shushed him, raising your pointer at him. “You wish you had his sex appeal.”

The boy rolled his eyes. “Yeah, let me just change my name to Bartholomew Whiteman real quick.”

“Hey!” you whacked him on the arm, this time laughing heartily at his quip. “Let my man live!”

He decided to spare your fictional man any more bullying, taking in the town atmosphere where the two adventurers and Maximus had now ended up. “Ooooo, the castle dances are my favourite scenes!” you gushed, scooping popcorn in one hand and eating with the other. “Wait, look, look at the braid!”

“Jeez, I’m looking!” he insisted, watching the girls braid Rapunzel’s hair. Flynn—which Vernon is continuing to identify him as, because Eugene was too much for him—stared at her longingly at the results. Vernon used the popcorn as an excuse to gaze at you matching Flynn’s longing at the screen. Your head rested on your knees, locking your hands in front of them, forming a lazy smile. This smile remained throughout Rapunzel and Eugene’s activities, even to the point when the couple were settled in a boat, waiting for the lights. 

“It’s happening,” you declared, the smile widening as you released your legs from your hands. “Oh my God, it’s fucking happening!”

Raising the volume, the boy watched the screen, where thousands of lanterns were sparking alight at the king and queen’s signal. The lanterns’ lights broke across the borders of the town, melting into the sea, the docked ships. Rapunzel had not noticed though, too busy dropping flower heads upon the water’s surface, Flynn helpfully holding out the bunch. 

As the princess dropped another upon the waterbed, she finally noticed the beginning.

It was then Vernon heard your favourite Disney song.

“All those days, watching from the window…All those years, outside looking in…” 

You followed this time, not as loud as the other songs, quiet and soft, as if letting the blonde shine in her song. “All that time, never even knowing, just how blind I’ve been…”” 

You exhibited the same excitement as Rapunzel, who, noticing the lanterns, threw off Flynn’s balance, hanging onto the curling bow of the boat.

The boy, however, was not really focused on the screen.

Because the music that surrounded the two crept into his ears, playing the strings of his senses; because the lights were off save for the TV, shining its dimmed lighting upon your face, making you glow with the dark purples, blues, golds of the Tangled scenery. He lost all interest in everything because you were looking something out of a daydream, watching the events of the movie as if they were scenes of salvation. The two of you were definitely not on any kind of boat, merely sitting on bean bags. Despite all of that, he began to float—swaying from where he sat, as if he was truly settled on water. 

“Now I’m here—” You put your hand to your chest— “Blinking in the starlight…now I’m here, suddenly I see…”

You kept singing the lyrics, voice more subdued than your last outbursts, and Vernon could only watch you, the pure love of this song radiating off your very pores. Vernon’s anticipation rose with every octave of the singer’s voice rising, eyes never leaving your face, the parted mouth. 

“Standing here, it’s oh! so clear…!”

As the viewers themselves were about to observe the thousands of lanterns Rapunzel witnessed, Vernon himself waiting, he made the mistake of averting his gaze from you, if only to see the grand reveal.

It was what made you unconsciously envelop your fingers with his, clasping his hand with yours.

He whipped his head to yours, eyes widening to the point of spilling. 

You were already looking at him. 

When you sang the next lyrics, Vernon could have melted molten.

“I’m where I’m meant to be!” 

And as the lanterns surrounded the protagonists, lighting up the entirety of the night, you sang the chorus to the boy in your little college flat, no one to witness it but two of you.

“And at last I see the light! And it’s like the fog has lifted!” 

Your voice was hoarse now, all the screech-singing catching up to you. Vernon, in another lifetime, would have instantly resisted, ran for the hills if it was literally anyone else in the room but you.

“And at last I see the light! And it’s like the sky…is new…” 

But it was you—you holding his hand tightly, you looking at him with the light of the lanterns in your eyes, you opening up to him in your little haven, away from anyone else. Granted, you could have offered this performance to anyone, but he liked to think—shit, he was truly hoping—that you would not have done this for anyone else. 

You would have only sang your favourite song to him. 

“And it’s warm, and real, and bright! And the world has somehow…shifted…”

Vernon watched you halt a moment, waiting for the next verse, your hand tightening in his. 

“All at once…everything looks different…”

You were right—the world had shifted underneath him, stilled under the dimmed lighting of this dingy living room. The two of you now faced each other, music still tuning from the TV, but the characters long forgotten, as if they never existed. Yes, you were right in that everything looked different, seemed different, as if he was seeing you for the very first time. 

“Now that I…see you.”

Shit. You were rather beautiful before him.

You paused then, watching his reaction. You tilted your head, thoroughly amused by the sheer awe that radiated from his face, but then you noticed his chest rise and fall, more unevenly the longer you observed him. 

The next detail you caught was how his eyes darted down—down to your lips.

It was the lips, which were watched so intently, that parted.

You attempted at a little humour. “Out of all my talents, I guess singing isn’t one of them.”

But Vernon did not respond with words. Sure, he would have agreed with you, but singing was irrelevant now. Out of all these infinite talents you possessed—your natural charm, your ease in making him laugh, your trespassing and eventual escaping of such crimes—Vernon could not have given less of a shit about singing. Not when you were before him, bathed in an unnatural, extraordinary light, soft music playing in the background. Almost as if he had adorned the rose-tinted glasses, courtesy of the universe.

In any romantic comedy, he would have kissed her.

The boy was not known to be courageous—anything but brave. Real Life, Not Clickbait Vernon would have left by now. The Real Vernon should have pussied out. 

You, however, looked a little too beautiful to be treated with cowardice. 

“Are you going to kiss me, Mr. Filmbro, or are you gonna make me wait till the end of the movie?”

He parted his mouth for a split second, gob-smacked at your question. The twinkle in your gaze, though, had him spluttering out a harsh chuckle, craning his head down at the sheer absurdity of it all. But then he looked up, smiling, not quite believing what he was about to do.

“I should make you wait.”

That was what he said. What Vernon instead did was finally grow the two balls that were supposed to be hidden in his pants, leaning in and pressing his lips against yours. 

Now the boy always wondered whether the movies were right—when mouths would touch, move against each other, whether a fire would ignite between souls, whether one really felt as if they were not of this world.

It seemed like Hallmark-level bullshit to him, but the moment his lips touched yours, he began to float out of this room. A soft hum reverated from you, approval at his actions, and he could have burst as he felt you smile against him. 

Maybe Disney was right. God, he really did not want to be in such accord with that stupid corporation, but they were onto something with the fireworks, the orchestral singing when couples kiss. He himself felt a choir-like chant all around him as he brought his hand to your face, angling it slightly so he could gain better access, boost your pleasure as he delved slightly deeper.

He was unstoppable. He was alive and ecstatic and delirious, opening his mouth wider, his other hand now finding your waist, snuffing out any distance between you two. It was not like he was a pro in these situations—he had only ever had one serious girlfriend, and that was at an age where a boy could get away with merely ‘french-kissing’ (as the kids back then would have gloated) your significant other. Again, he may have fooled around a little in college, too, but never had he experienced this haze of lust, this newfound desire. 

This desire enhanced further when you slipped your tongue from the seams, sliding it along his as an invitation for more, and he could have honestly thanked that heinous hag Walt Disney for making movies you adored so much, to the point of showing him and landing him in this situation. Of course he indulged you, opening his mouth enough to let you inside. The sensation of your tongue slipping past his lips had a soft noise releasing from his throat. 

Tangled was all but forgotten, the two of you too occupied being entangled with each other. You pulled him even closer, wrapping your arms around his neck, fingers brushing against the ends of his hair. The soft touches had every strand of his locks standing on edge, a wave of delight washing over him. 

You were sagged into the bean bag, Vernon’s weight upon you sinking you further, but you did not mind it—relished it, his scent engulfing you, the sighs and soft murmurs of his every exhale haunting your eardrums. Who would have thought that a boy who could recite every Joker quote from The Dark Knight—Virgin Supremism you termed the talent—had this kind of game hidden underneath? How was he able to ignite such powerful emotions from you?

How was Vernon ‘Filmbro’ Chwe able to make you feel so good you did not realise Tangled finishing right before you?

The two of you could have spent all night intertwined in each other, perhaps would have gone past the boundaries of mere making out. However, between the haze of his soft whispers to you, your own mist swimming in your head, you heard the starting music of the DVD reverting to the home page, and like instinct you opened your eyes, finding that the movie had ended.

You must have paused, because Vernon immediately stopped, concern staining his pretty features. His knitted brow, eyes laced with nervousness, shamed you for ever stopping. “What’s wrong? Did I do something?”

“Oh, no, no!” You felt like a fool for the answer you attempted to give him. “It’s just, um…”

He followed your line of sight, turning around. Once he realised, he looked back at you, you surprised to find a little shock replacing his concern. “We were going for that long?”

Your smirk had his stomach knotting. “This is what happens when you make out with someone you like, Mr. Filmbro.” 

He could not respond, looking away as his flushed face managed to redden some more. You only laughed at him, playing with the hem of his shirt, his arms still steady as they caged you. “You are so lucky, you know.”

He quirked a brow. “And why is that?” 

“I would never miss the second half of Tangled for a man.”

It was so incredibly stupid, how he felt a semblance of pride at the notion.“Happy to know I’m an exception.”

“You do know I’m gonna make you watch it again so you can say you’ve watched it.”

Vernon tilted his head to the side, lost in thought. You watched him, anticipating. “This is the part where you say you’d rather Mingyu jump you than rewatch Tangled.” 

“Well yes, but…” He glanced over his shoulder, where your shelf of DVDs were stacked, a particular movie which had caught his eye previously now standing out all the more. “I, uh…” 

He looked back at you, and the self-conscious glint in his gaze had you watching his every movement. “I was hoping to show you my favourite movie instead.”

You were ready to make a comment on how you prided on avoiding Nolan films like the plague, but then you remembered the conversation at Mingyu’s house. Your eyebrows could have touched your hairline. “You said I could never know.”

“Well…” a small smile escaped him, slowly pulling himself away. “If I am to be your exception, _____, then I suppose you can be mine.”

Gaping at him, you could only keep silent as he, with great effort on his part, heaved off you, making his way to the shelf. He was lucky, you thought—had he been a moment slower, that comment alone would have had you kissing him again. 

What quickly caught your attention was him sliding his pointer finger through your collection, a series of your favourites. The anticipation was rising, you not quite believing that Mr. Filmbro’s favourite film was within your arsenal. Weeks ago, you would have bullied him relentlessly for the ironic hypocrisy.

When he pulled out the fated DVD, you let out the greatest laugh.

The boy instantly frowned, but you did not realise, cackling and cackling away at the selection, the final boss of Vernon’s favourite film, nestled between his fingers. “Shut up,” he mumbled, but again, you did not hear him, lost in the shrill sound of your laughter, erupting the room to life. 

“Oh, Jesus—” Your chortling did not seem to stop, almost to the point of hiccups. “Your ass…this entire time—!”

“And suddenly I’m leaving!” Vernon announced, getting up and about to drop the DVD. 

He did not last long in his determination when you grabbed onto the end of his shirt, grinning still. “Thank God you’re not a Nolan kiss-ass…that’s all I’m saying.”

All he could do was stand like an idiot, the tips of your fingers caressing the skin just above his trousers. “But I am a Nolan kiss-ass,” he murmured, crossing his arms. 

“That’s what I thought, too, but this film—” you jerked your head towards the prize in his hand. “You’ve redeemed yourself.”

“Stop it,” he only said, crouching down to pull out the Tangled CD, replacing it with the new, and, in his opinion, improved movie. “This is why I didn’t want to tell anyone.”

“And nobody will know,” you assured him, watching the movie’s main menu pop up, the PLAY option highlighted. “This’ll be our secret.”

“First the trespassing,” Vernon began, sitting down beside you, “Then the tampering of movies, and now this.” He grabbed the remote, about to play the movie. “How much more are we gonna sneak around?”

You looked at him, and the smile you offered him had him glancing away—only for a second. “Have you not had fun, though? Sneaking around with me?”

Normally, in a situation where he had zero balls, he would have evaded such a question, not fanned the flames of your fire. But tonight he had watched a Disney movie with you, felt your fingers caressing his skin, had even kissed you in the purple hues of Tangled’s light. Tonight, he could conquer the world.

What would answering a heated question do any harm?

Vernon locked eyes with you then, trying to fight his smile. “I think I could have fun with you anywhere…in secret or for anyone to see.”

As something in your gaze shifted, he turned the film on (an entendre which was completely intentional). 

Once again, the two of you were in the same position, watching yet another film, this time another’s all time favourite. The narrator began in a strange, European accent, explaining the tale of an unfortunate princess, much like Rapunzel, and her dire situation. 

Although it was undoubtedly his most treasured film, the boy had a very hard time paying attention when all he could feel was that penetrating stare of yours, capable of revealing his very soul from beneath his measly shirt. Even when the stranger main character was introduced, following his main routine in his strangest abode, Vernon was not particularly concentrating anymore.

Not when he heard your voice, a soft question amongst the gaudy music of the 2000s. “Do you mean that, Vernon?”

And perhaps it was because you said his actual name, especially when your voice sounded like…like that. Like something from a perfect movie soundtrack, akin to the end-credits of an unforgettable TV show. 

Because he was too occupied with simply admiring you, he merely nodded, biting the inside of his cheek.

And because you were too busy admiring him, his words, the entire night where you had felt pure, euphoric joy, you did Mr. Filmbro a little dirty by making a decision that negated his film.

You shifted closer once more, hands reaching out to hold his face. 

This time, Vernon was prepared when you kissed him.

There was a certain eagerness in your lips this time which was newer—more enjoyable to his senses. It made sense now, why all these couples in movies made out for hours and hours on end. He felt as if he could kiss you forever, move against your mouth, delve inside until his tongue memorised your very imprint. 

You moaned a little louder this time, and the very sound had his heartbeat racing, moreso when, as he pressed you against him, shifting upon his beanbag, he knew then and there that something in the air shifted.

Last time, you had stopped. This time, there was no such indication—the very thought had him skirting his hands around you, holding you tight enough to never let go.

Still—even with such possibilities, there was no way you and him would escalate to the point of losing his virginity.

Whatever happens though, he will still watch the end of his favourite film. 

Whatever happens, Vernon would not be having sex with you if Shrek was playing in the background.

VERNON LOST HIS VIRGINITY WITH SHREK PLAYING IN THE BACKGROUND.

Certainly not his greatest achievements, considering he could not focus on his favourite movie, but it was certainly not his fault. You were—to put it quite plainly—hot as fuck.

He did not leave until the very next day because—as he had stated that night—he still wanted you to watch Shrek, and did, somehow, end up watching it properly. You did not stop teasing him, and he did not stop shutting you up by kissing you senseless. 

Unfortunately, the boy did have college the next day, so he had to leave at some point, but not without promises of meeting you again. This time, however, you two did not continue the crimes he committed with you. You and Vernon were not modern-day Joker and Harley Quinn.

When the two of you were not terrorising Mingyu’s livelihood, you decided to hang out at the filmstore, where it all began. Vernon would host weekly movie nights, and both of you would eat popcorn and watch each other’s recommendations, scoring them differently in accordance to what was most important for each other.

For the film majoring student, the rating was influenced not only by the actors’ performances, but also from the intricate storyline, the character developments, their relationships. A story, for him at least, was about relationships. Good cinema was about the chemistry between two actors, the emotional connection they had not just with each other, but also their effect on the audience. The actual editing of the film, too, was another bullet point in his criteria.

Your rating, on the other hand, differed slightly. 

“Michelle Yeoh is such a MILF,” was your only comment upon finishing Everything Everywhere All at Once. 

This comment nearly made Vernon lose his mind. “One of the greatest movies of this decade, and this is your only input?”

“But am I wrong, though?”

Vernon sighed a little at that—at the end of the day, you were absolutely in the right. There was a reason Crazy Rich Asians went platinum in his dingy little room. 

Of course, it was not just his personal recommendations that played. You had compiled a list of your all-time favourites, going beyond Disney’s borders, and Vernon was introduced to the dashing timeless genre of the rom-com. Now having a younger sister who (he thought) was a basic bitch meant he did possess some knowledge of the genre, but he had never really sat down and watched a rom-com without falling asleep in Sofia’s bed. 

For you, though, he braved the most famous romances, which he found himself enjoying more than he would have liked—more so when he found one of his favoured actors in 10 Things I Hate About You.

“Heath Ledger singing was something I never thought I needed,” Vernon commented as the ferocious couple finally kissed. 

“And this is the same fella who was the Joker in your little Nolan film,” you reminded him, as if he was not aware already. “Oh, and he was the gay cowboy in that movie.”

“Gay cowboy?” His confusion lasted for approximately thirty seconds before he groaned, pushing you over on your beanbag. “My god, are you talking about Brokeback Mountain?”

“Yes, that one!” you exclaimed, picking up the TV remote. “My guy has range, but him as a high schooler is still my favourite role.”

“You do realise how bad that sounds, right?”

“You know what I mean,” you said, waving him off as you began searching for the next movie. “Now, Two Weeks’ Notice or The Proposal?”

Vernon endeavoured to weigh in on the options. “Which one do you think I’d like?”

“Well, both have Sandra Bullock in them…”

He looked over both DVDs. “Now that’s a white woman I can get behind.” 

You scooched a little over to him, locking your hands together. “We can watch something you like…” When he knitted his brows together, not quite answering you, you went on, almost unable to look him in the eye. “You’ve been super nice, you know…sitting through all my favourites.” 

The boy could not help it, unable to let a smirk slip. “Is this _____ appreciating me for once?” The beginnings of his shit-eating attitude did not develop, since your smack on his arm completely snuffed it out. “Ow, damn!”

“You deserved that,” you muttered, beginning to scoot away until Vernon’s hand on your wrist stopped you. 

When you focused your gaze at him, he already beat you to it. “Let’s watch both today.” 

It was silly, how that made your heart beat faster. “Really? You would watch two rom-coms in a row?”

As his hand pulled you closer, his stare had you almost—almost—nervous. “I’ve done worse for you.”

“Very true,” you said, absent-minded, more lost in the twinkle of his eyes. “Very, uh…good point.”

Vernon thanked all the higher bodies that may have existed for the pure, unadulterated rizz he was attempting to spew. “I’m full of good points,” he crowed. “Now, are you going to stare at me all night, or are we going to watch Sandra Bullock?”

Although your cheeks burned, you pushed him off, earning a chuckle from him. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, Mr. Filmbro. The only man I’ll be staring at will be Ryan Reynolds in The Proposal.”

All of the boy’s suave attitude dissipated at his shock. “The Deadpool guy?!”

“Ryan Reynolds did have range before,” you explained, shaking your head. “Then the superhero bug bit him.”

“What a shame,” he only said, as if Vernon did not follow the Deadpool universe to the point of possessing special editioned comics in his room. Still, he happily slotted the CD inside the player, and excused himself to make more popcorn for the two of you.

As the boy prepared snacks, glancing back every time at the opening scene, he managed to sneak a look at you, eagerly watching the screen. 

He could only smile, putting all the popcorn in the huge bowl before hurrying back to you. 

THIS WAS PROBABLY THE FIRST TIME YOU WORE A SUIT TO A CINEMA. PERHAPS THIS WAS THE FIRST TIME YOU WORE A SUIT AT ALL.

Admittedly, it was not as if you had intended to go into the cinema in formal attire—or, at least the only formal clothing you had. Your first plan was to steal something from your father’s wardrobe, but when you tried it on, it did not fit properly, and you refused to look like an idiot in public.

Not that you cared much about looking like an idiot in public before, but there was another person to look out for. And that person, although had already done embarrassing enough actions for you, did not want to push it further. One more ceremonious act of humiliation, and Vernon would have run a thousand miles from you—or that was what you thought. 

You observed your cinema fit one last time before your bathroom mirror, fixing the lapels for the nth time. Your rented three-piece suit was almost a second skin, waistcoat snug underneath the tweed jacket, matching coloured trousers adorned alongside. You borrowed some Oxford brogues from a friend, which made you realise that you had more posh friends than you knew. You tried to find a hat similar to the one Cillian Murphy wore in the promotions, but because you did not have the wardrobe of a middle aged man, you resorted to let your head rest. 

All of this elaborate planning to see Nolan’s (apparently) greatest release yet—Oppenheimer. 

Because the cinema was not far away from you, you decided to walk, messaging your date to let him know that you were on your way. You were certain he was already there in the cinema; Vernon, since you had started hanging out more with him, had only ever talked about Nolan’s upcoming epic. You swore if you recited the IMDB plot out to him during sex, he would have spunked within minutes (a mental note to experiment on that later). His excitement had you booking midnight release tickets, which consequently made him so happy you thought you had invited Nolan to the town cinema. 

The night, furthering along, had beautified the black sky, stars twinkling on your journey. The consistent vibrations from your phone indicated the boy’s imminent excitement, and you smiled, double-checking your formal attire once more. You would have romanticised the nighttime further but living in student area brought you right back to fearing slightly for your life, so you quickened your step, cinema already a close speck in the distance. 

You knew you were nearer to the destination when the flocks of pink and black grew, the cowboy hats and fake pipes all piling up in your vision. Seeing the pink reminded you of Barbie’s influence, also being released tonight alongside the more serious counterpart. 

A small part of you really wanted to see the midnight release for the new movie. The original plan most people were following was either to watch Oppenheimer and then Barbie, or the other way around. You were so close to procuring tickets for the latter, but decided that it was important to accompany Vernon to the seemingly bigger release. After all, you were never as excited about films as the dear film major you had rather grown to like.

Another vibration of your phone, and you finally decided to stop ignoring said-film major and text him, possibly informing you of his arrival.

mr. filmbro: yo where u at

mr. filmbro: they’re too many pink mfs out here im getting suffocated

You rolled your eyes.

_____: im coming to save u kitten.

mr. filmbro: :0

Once you were inside, it was a complete sea of pink and black and grey. Two sides, which one would assume would be opposing, were all celebrating, sharing their drinks, anticipating when the theatre doors would open to let everyone in. Within this myriad of fans, you tried to search for the most mentally ill one—the one who you were certain had a finer three-piece set than you, who would have happily stolen Cillian Murphy’s set clothes to truly honour the movie. 

Strangely enough, after a few minutes, you could not find him, even after confirming your seats. You searched for anyone wearing anything devoid of colour, but did not find the boy. This time, you decided to bother him, calling him and pressing the phone to your ear. 

“Where are you, kitten?” you purposely growled, lowering your voice an octave. “Daddy’s waiting.”

“Kitten actually killed himself after hearing that,” was his purposeful monotone. 

“Can you resurrect yourself for me real quick? I’m tryna find where you are.” 

“I’m next to the Oppenheimer popup.” Immediately you tried to find it, scouring through the crowds. “I figured you’d find me easier.”

Scoffing, you ignored the Barbie stalls, walking further ahead. “How very smart of you to wear Oppenheimer clothing while standing next to it. So much easier to find you, isn’t it?”

He did not retort back, instead inciting your excitement. “Wait, I think I can see you…?”

Your eyes darted over to the fresh faces of the Nolan fans, all taking pictures of the cast pop-ups. What you were observing were the men and women, all lack of colour. 

What your gaze ended up on was someone completely different. 

What you were expecting was a mini-Oppenheimer, the too-large blazer, the sashed hat upon pretty brown curls. What you received instead was a boy engulfed in all the pinks of the colour wheel.

Pink was the colour of his top, bubblegum pink the colour of the stringy fur coat sporting over said shirt. Magenta was the colour of his flared trousers, whilst rose was the colour of his converse. What topped off the entire look was the hot pink cowboy hat, sitting perfectly upon his wavy locks, completing his fit—a fit which was perfect for the Barbie movie. 

It was around that point that he caught on to your stare—through the oceans of opposing fans, he, too, finally found you.

Vernon heard your curse murmur through the phone. “Oh my fucking God.”

That was when his own gaze roamed over you, shocked and shameless amongst the crowds. Not that the crowds mattered, not anymore. He was a little nervous, he had to admit it to himself, only because there were so many people, and they were only watching for the fad, for the trend. A part of him wanted just you and him in this midnight cinema, the biggest official date yet. 

But then seeing you here, in all your black-clad, Oppenheimered glory, had stunned him to his core. Although he had specifically brought you here to watch the movie, he had completely expected you to arrive in the pinkmania fit. Because you had kindly booked tickets for his anticipated film, he thought at least to participate in the Barbie craze fit.

It was like instinct, how his steps gravitated towards you, his phone still pressed against his ear, very much like you. You followed him slowly, hearing his ragged breaths through the speaker, watching him walk closer and closer until you both were a mere couple of feet away.

Only then did you drop the call, your hands at your sides as you admired him. It was a while before any of you spoke. 

Like always, you spoke first. “Tell me the fur coat is yours.”

A ghost of a smirk. “Sofia’s.”

“Stealing’s like second nature to you now, isn’t it?” you taunted. 

Like always, he dodged your taunts. “I thought you were gonna wear all pink.”

“I thought you were gonna wear all black.”

He tilted his head. “Well, I thought since we were watching both movies…”

Your confusion was clear, the corner of his lips curling further up. “Wasn’t Oppenheimer first?”

He then went inside his flared trouser pockets, fishing out two tickets—its colours matching his outfit. “I know how much you wanted to see Margot Robbie be silly.” 

“I did!” you exclaimed, taking the tickets from him, admiring how pretty they were designed, especially when compared to the Oppenheimer marketing tickets. In your admiration, though, you noticed a detail which had your excitement faltering. “Wait, are you sure? It says the movie’s at the same time.”

Vernon then checked the timings, mouth parting. “Oh shit. Didn’t think about that.” He shook his head, mouth straightening in a line, dejected. “This is what happens when I try to do something romantic.”

“I have to give points for effort,” you offered, bringing your hands to his wrist. “Hey, it’s okay. Let’s watch Oppenheimer, honestly. Cillian Murphy is still hot when he’s old.”

“No, no,” he countered, clasping your hands on his wrist. “It’s chill.” He glanced down. “Let’s do Barbie first.”

You attempted to argue him on this, but he simply let go of your hands, with his one hand wrapping around your waist, and the other hand’s wrist being checked for the time. You bit back a smile at his mere actions, relishing his fingers skirting under the suit, the waistcoat. “Vernon,” you attempted. 

“_____,” he said back, staring at you with an awe that you would have deserved had you worn a couture gown, not some rented hand-me-downs. 

You knew he would not take no for an answer now. “But what about Oppenheimer?” you asked anyway as the two of you made your way to the cinema. 

Vernon only pretended to think extremely deeply of the situation, making you elbow him playfully. “Now tell me, Dear Disney Hag, how did we enter Mingyu’s house?”

“Why, we walked straight in!” you answered like an over-enthusiastic student, in which he sarcastically clapped for you. 

“Right on.” As you both walked towards the Barbie theatre, the opposing movie was being screened right beside you, where people were bursting in. “See how everyone is walking in right now?” He gave you a knowing glance. 

That knowing glance had you scoffing in excited disbelief. “My God! Look at you, all ready to commit crimes!” you looped a hand around his arm. “I have taught you well, young man.”

He patted your arm. “Mr. Filmbro has come a long way from chatting shit about your movie taste.”

“So you admit it?” you leaned in. “Disney makes better movies than your flop directors?”

“That’s a completely different claim,” he clarified. “My taste in films is objectively better.”

“Still doesn’t change the fact you're watching the Barbie movie before Oppenheimer.”

He rolled his eyes, tugging you closer. “That’s ‘cause I like you a lot, Disney Hag…”

You did not stop your smile from lighting up your entire face. “You’re not the most insufferable filmbro I’ve dated I guess…”

”I better be the last filmbro you date,” he muttered, watching over the last of the crowds, where they now stood, waiting to enter the theatre.

The longer you waited to answer him, the more incredulous his face became, brows knotted in disbelief. You only chuckled, leaning in and pressing your lips upon his. Of course, he was taken aback, but surprises like these were pleasant, welcomed with open arms as Vernon closed his eyes, pulling you in. 

The moment the line started quickening you broke away, only to make sure no one skipped in front of you and him, and thus deal with yours and his passive aggression. You could not help the giggle that escaped you at breaking away from his lips, relishing in his dazed state. 

Honestly—you truly would not have minded being anywhere with him.

When it was finally your turn to go inside the Barbie screening, you held tightly to his hand. “Let’s go, Mr. Filmbro.”

Vernon only smiled. “Right behind you, _____.”

And as the two of you entered the theatre, hand-in-hand, the boy learned that perhaps he, too, would have gone anywhere with you. 

[mythals-whore]

Solas & the Flood

I made a post the other week with some of my thoughts on Solas, (the solas arc?) and genuinely this man haunts me. No matter what you think about his motivations or whether he was right, he is deeply complex and extremely well written. I love him, he frustrates me, I want to punch him in the nose and then give him a big hug.

That’s my disclaimer.

Now.

I’m going to get biblical (a bit) bc I cannot stop thinking about Solas as a god.

My last post was talking about the trolley problem and how the ancient elves or more specially, the world/culture of the ancient elves is dead and buried and Solas is trying to resurrect it.

But I was thinking, and I think the actual BEST analogy to what Solas is trying to do is the story if Noah and the Arc. And now that I’ve had the thought in my brain, I’m sure this has come up in fandom before, I actually cannot imagine I’m the first but I haven’t seen it so I AM MAKING THE POST.

Solas is playing god (sorry, this is indisputable to me. Argue if you want but I will not be swayed). He woke up in a world that was fucked up, to the point where he didn’t view anyone as a real person.

AND YES: there’s less magic in the world, mages are locked up for literally existing, spirits have suffered, the history of the ancient elves is forgotten, elves are enslaved and mostly live in poverty. etc. etc. The world he wakes in is a bad place.

So he decides to do what God does in the Bible(essentially):

“The Lord saw how great the wickedness of the human race had become on the earth, and that every inclination of the thoughts of the human heart was only evil all the time. The Lord regretted that he had made human beings on the earth, and his heart was deeply troubled. So the Lord said, “I will wipe from the face of the earth the human race I have created—and with them the animals, the birds and the creatures that move along the ground—for I regret that I have made them.” (Gen 6:5 -7 NIV gets bonus points for regret)

And decides to flood the whole thing. Bonus points for the writers who kept giving Rook the line “drown the world in demons”. Yes, some people will survive (Noah and his family/elves, for sure I guess? unclear) and we’ll just make a new world (/restore the old world) bc this one sucks. And this one will be better because I say so.

Solas woke into the world he created and decided it was wicked, and he had to fix it by destroying it (sorry, won’t argue this, it’s in the text). He knows he’s destroying the current world/their way of life. He’s trying to remake it. I do genuinely believe he thinks that is the right thing. And he’s just so tragic to me because he (unlike God in the Bible) lives among people. Learns that they are good, and worthy. He makes friends and, in some cases, falls in love. But instead of allowing himself to live and experience the world, and try to fix it in small ways, he forces himself into “i am god so I can fix it” mode.

And it breaks my heart, (and it breaks his btw) because, yes, there is so much evil in the world, but that doesn’t mean we should destroy it and just try again because there will ALWAYS be evil in the world. It’s unavoidable. But in trying to remake the world, you will unavoidably destroy the good in it as well.

GOD literally acknowledges this after the flood.

“The Lord smelled the pleasing aroma and said in his heart: “Never again will I curse the ground because of humans, even though every inclination of the human heart is evil from childhood. And never again will I destroy all living creatures, as I have done.” (Gen 8:21).

Which to me, begs the question: even if we were given the option to let Solas tear down the veil, wouldn't the world just be fucked up in a new way?

Lots and lots of people would die, but he's done it. The veil is down, the elven gods are gone and for arguments sake, the Blight is no longer an issue. And say Lavellan lives, as do most of Solas's friends. But that doesn't just fix all the injustices in the world.

Not all of the Tevinter magisters are dead. The ones who know how to bind spirits and demons and use loads of blood magic? Those guys are fine. But Solas probably just accidentally killed a bunch of Shadow Dragons and, inadvertently, the slaves to those magisters who probably use them for blood magic. The raw magic will probably set off some artifacts in Arlathan, likely killing a portion of the Veil Jumpers, who are the only modern elves to even attempt to learn how to use all this technology. Bringing down the veil will not make matters for southern mages better. They're so scared of their own shadows that they're just as likely to fight the spirits they see as accept their help. southern Templars (assuming they still exist in your playthrough) will probably start killing mages on sight if they even survive.

He brings the veil down, but everything is still bad. Or even if it's not, it will get there. Eventually. Unavoidably. And maybe, just maybe Solas would realize that he’d made a big mistake AGAIN.

Regarding my last post, because I suppose i would like to amend it somewhat in hindsight: it’s not about whether you think he’s right about the world being fucked up. Solas is right. The world is fucked up, but I fundamentally disagree with him on how to fix it.

(This is where we get into some real world feelings and why this feels so important to me that I’ve written this whole ridiculous thing)

You don’t fix a fucked up world by destroying it. You do the work. You look a the world and you go “this is really fucked up” and you find ways to fix the things that are broken. You join advocacy groups, campaign for a candidate you believe in. You spread kindness in your community where you can. Be a light. Which, by the way is basically the Shadow Dragon slogan. You know, those guys both running the underground railroad and working in the imperial senate to try to abolish slavery in Tevinter?

I could really get into how this complaint I keep seeing about everything being too sanitized and how potentially it's just the world healing and people trying to be better (Isabela, hello?) but I digress.

TL;DR, I think this whole thing frustrates me so much because I think that fatalistic take is just so sad, but also I understand it but also I just feel like he could have found a better way if he was willing to put in the time and effort.

Also, some stuff about being God, I guess?

[archivalofsins]

Hiya! I've been really enjoying your posts for the last year. I would spend my mornings or afternoons' reading over so much of what you've written, though I don't like stuff cause I was worried it would be too spammy. I love sm the different perspectives on Prisoners I've seen through your work, love how you look at Yuno's and Fuuta's crimes, your stuff with Kazui and how you've approached (my fav) Mahiru's crime. Also more general, dissociation gang, looking at the split of prisoners (oh no accident vs active killing) I'm baffled at how little notes you have on some of your posts when I've found them very insightful. Also love how you colour-code text, very neat and makes long posts easier to read! Before encountering your blog I just kind of looked at youtube comments for help understanding the prisoners' crimes, but your analyses are so much more concise and interesting.

apologies if this is weird, thank you sm for all you do!

Firstly, I’d like to say thank you! It makes me happier than anyone could ever know to be told in such detail how much you’ve enjoyed my work and for how long. I especially appreciate the detail you’ve gone into. I love hearing the points that people like about my work and it’s kind of a walk down memory lane to read in a way.

That's why I want to take this time to I also wanted to highlight some of the other people that have added so much of their own time and personal flair to the Milgram community on Tumblr!

7-4-N

Not a creature, not a specimen, not a being. Do not refer to this existence at all but if you really must Tsumi or 74 can work well enough. Just know your social constructs won’t stick. This being doesn’t adhere to such things. After all happy or sad why decide. One of many fans of Yuno Kashiki. This blogger puts on full display the many social boxes society creates and tries fit the prisoners into. Sometimes even the ones the prisoners try to fit themselves into as well.

Characterization analysis and art mix together to create a truly unique experience-

Theory on what Amane's cult is based on

I wrote something on the post itself but this was really good! I enjoyed reading it a lot for personal reasons. It presents the religions in a very nuanced and unbiased way without sugarcoating anything. Ultimately a very nice collaborative effort that gives a lot to chew on.

Yuno is a "side/supporting character" post

Tsumi also in charge of their very own Milgram- Tsumigram remember what Jackalope said,

"Don't go messing up my (or other people's) Milgrams!"

Tsumi sometimes translates analysis into other languages and has hosted some really fun fandom events. 74 has always tried to create an environment where everyone is able to feel comfortable and have fun together. In a way it’s no surprise Tsumigram is the way it is.

It's focus on communication and the connections between people. Showcase 74’s willingness to put forth the effort to understand others. Even when things are going smoothly. As well of the fear and vulnerability that can be created through knowing and being known by someone else. As well as the worry of what one knows about someone becoming obsolete due to that person changing and growing as all people do.

Tsumi understands the problems that can come about when communicating. How one can try their best and still end up being scorned, ridiculed, misunderstood, or misinterpreted. Recognizing those sorts of things are just as much a part of life can give one the freedom to try simply for the sake of trying. Not because it will led to a positive outcome.

Sometimes we can't please everyone. People will butt heads. That’s natural. None of us can avoid doing things we can't take back, things others may never be able to forgive us for, or understand. Even so that doesn’t change what we as individuals are capable of. Tsumi showed that all it took for fun things to happen was taking that first step and asking if anyone would like to do something together.

Because if no one ever asks then no one can get an answer. It’s difficult to put oneself out their in such a way to so many people. It could go wrong and when things go wrong as they so often are inclined to- One may feel like they should stop putting themselves out there all together. That closing off is a good answer. I know I’ve felt that way. That I’ve backed down, secluded myself, and hid away my opinions while avoiding stressors.

It's easy to just say get back on the horse and keep trying. Yet the truth is time to oneself is important and can be productive. It can give us the time we need to process the experiences we’ve had recently and collect our thoughts. Then when one is ready they can come back far better than they left. It’s important to take caution and not worry about bringing to best of ourselves in everything we do.

Because this idea that we have to meet everyone at our very best can be isolating and tiresome. Sometimes even though it may be hard to believe just showing up is enough. Just a small greeting is enough, to some what we may do that we view as trivial could be everything to someone else. Tsumi shows me through persistence and compassion that even the tiniest gestures can be cause for celebration.

That things don’t have be grand to matter. No one has to overheat to feel love or freeze to feel loneliness. That both those things make up warmth. That said warmth can be comforting and disgusting all at once. Through Tsumi's presence I’ve gotten to learn the value of multitudes again. Instead of just being interested in the same old thing.

Which I greatly appreciate and believe many others could too.

amugoffandoms

With a mug full of passion and the drive to see what they start through this fandom regular probably needs little introduction. Yet, for those who don’t know I’ll give it my best shot. Stating she’s the number one Yuno fan would be an understatement. I’d need a new title entirely to explain her earnest and affection towards one of the most drastically overlooked and prone to oversimplification within this series.

Man, Mug and Tsumi both have it tough- Having a fave that’s critically underrated that’s looked at as an easy open and shut case. Even still Mug through their art, writing, and ever-present enthusiasm manages to highlight the subtleties of Yuno’s characterization.

Love Bullet Yuno, Tear Drop redraw, Rookie Yuno

The use of childhood games/questions in Yuno's songs

Yuno looking unusually cold on her second trial cd cover

Mortuus ES, Ergo Ego Mortuus Sum, Fell and Found Out

Outside of taking an interest in all things Yuno- Mug draws, does analysis, and writes fanfiction.

Cyberpunk Dead Boy Fuuta

The Machiavellian concept and how it can apply to Milgram

Ace of Spades and how it foreshadows Hinako's fate

Sing Your Sins!, Press Rewind

They’re even the host of her very own milgram Mugram. Admittedly all of the kids there are troublemakers. A rather eccentric bunch but none of them seem to have done much particularly bad. A lot of what they do seems to be related to their work or how they make a living in general (if they can’t call it work).

Though those could just be the characters I decided to focus on. I do find that pattern interesting though. Fan Milgrams are really good at homing in on specific societal issues. Their writing has a good grasp of imagery. Usually setting up scenes in a way that makes in a way that makes it easier for readers to visualize. When it comes to her art their expression work has great emotional depth conveying feelings in a direct manner.

coffee-without-anesthetics

No painkillers and all energy! Itha has been around in the community for what feels like before I was here, but I’m actually its senior by a year maybe I’ve been here too long… Let’s not dwell on that! I don’t remember a time when it wasn’t here or exactly when it showed up. Giving it this very ageless entity feel that is honestly goals. Sometimes I just want to phase into existence and out too!

Still just because not many were there to witness its first light doesn’t mean this star burns any less! Its a regular within the fandom that needs very little introduction at this point. If it isn’t talking about Lies of P it can be found just actually blogging generally- Seeing anything come across my dash with that familiar Es icon is a breath of fresh air for me.

Now hold on you didn’t think that was all-

It does translations and art! Translating fanfics from English to Polish or French with the creator’s permission. Well, if you ever feel like translating any of my Milgram ones you’ve got my permission for that. Though… that would quite an undertaking considering how much I write, hm.  Ah- This isn’t about that right now… Sorry. Its also into Arcane, House MD, The Magnus Archives, Mathematics- and Linguistics & Music.

Here’s hoping Milgram and it remain a match made in heaven regardless of how hellish thing get~

DoctorBunny

Ahnnnn- What’s up doc? Now don’t let the name fool you this dude is a Haruka fan- and that diagnosis is lifelong. He’s also not a doctor yet! Curses you to more college- I’m joking, I’m joking! This is another milgram fandom regular who’s dabbled in a little bit of everything.

Art, analysis, translations, documentation- You name it he’s probably done it!

And done it well at that,

DoctorBunny is inquisitive, considerate, and welcoming to his anyone within the fandom. Always looking for a way to not only enjoy himself but make sure those around him are enjoying their selves too.

Milgram Earphone Translation

Milgram Hallucination Booklet Translation PT1

Milgram x Karatez Interrogation Questions

He’s been a mod on Milgram servers, done real time quick translations of the material, and just generally been a joy to get to know through this series. While he has his biases- He’s not afraid to interrogate them and look at things from different angles.

His thirst for knowledge has created space around him for the opinions of others while still holding consideration towards his own. He knows that sometimes leaving space for the idea that one’s interpretation may be wrong is not only a reasonable thing to do but the first step to figuring out what may be right. He is one of the people I discuss my posts with in advance. As well as discuss how I engage with media in general with. Pretty daily at this point, actually. I hope my stubborn nature isn’t getting grating.

He once explained to me that because my wording can come off so adamant and certain in my convictions it can feel a bit overwhelming. Some may think that’s a bad thing but to me I thought it was a really great observation. It made me recognized that I do get incredibly caught up in my beliefs and am prone to speaking as though what I believe is the one obvious truth of the manner.

I can come off as really confident in my convictions because when I see something one way I can become blinded to the other ways it can be. Sometimes I do believe in my reading comprehension too much and that can be limiting. It can be off-putting. So, I’m glad I found a friend who can recognize and not get annoyed by that habit of mine when it comes to discussing media. Especially since I can be a fast-paced talker and texter when super invested in something.

So, Bunny’s more relaxed and down to earth pace along with straightforward nature of being able to just simply go that isn’t what I meant I meant x. Is incredibly grounding. He brings that measured analysis and grounding personality into the fandom spaces he occupies through he’s leveled responses to media and willingness to meet his peers where they’re at all while not compromising his own beliefs. He knows how to ask for help and when to be skeptical of what’s being presented and how.

Ultimately having internet and media literacy that far surpasses my own at times. This makes him an amazing person to have in any fandom and as a friend in general. Sometimes I get up in arms about something I’ve seen online because yes I can be reactionary and at those times I’ve gone off complaining about it and Bunny has more often than not managed to show me a new perspective I’ve never considered before. It’s important to have people like that who can level you out and understand where you’re coming from especially in fandom a space that thrives off of eliciting a reaction at times.

His art style is dreamy having a lovely display of colors and lighting.

Haruka in pyjamas

When it comes to art he’s very versatile wit a good understanding of lining, form, and style. Allowing for a good deal of variety between his pieces. His appreciation for drawing as a creative form is fully displayed in every piece he’s made. Though I think the best part is regardless of the drawing there always seems to be a bit of fun put into it!

Good-beans/ Good-beansdraws

Now this is a fandom regular that should need no introductions. She’s the guard of milgramblrgram and done it well at that! Not one person has died or gotten irrecoverably injured and that’s all due to her caring, compassionate, but fair guidance. Balancing Mahiru’s bleeding heart with Kotoko’s drive for fairness. She’s created an environment for most for a good majority of milgramblr to hone their talents and indulge their interests amongst peers with the same passion as themselves.

This user inspires me every day to turn my words into action. So, when I say it’s up to us to create a community worth being in those words don’t just sit there empty and I instead do things that highlight the talents and intricacies of the people who make this fandom the place it is for at times the better or the worse.

Because that’s what Milgram is about. Taking the good, the bad, and ourselves all into consideration and looking for the best path forward together. It’s about realizing that in this life we won’t only see things we agree with, the things we think may not always be right, there are biases in us all that need unpacking and questioning. Good-beans gives creatives in this fandom a space where they can explore these things within themselves through their many talents.

In everthing she does- She highlights what it means to form community out of fandom in every fandom that’s lucky to have her while still making space for herself and her own feelings about the works she enjoys. On top of that she creates a good deal of fanworks. Art and writing. Good-beans art reminds me a lot of graphic novels and western comics. Examples of the top of my head would be Stephen McCranie’s Space Boy, Eric Anthony Glover’s & Arielle Jovellanos’ Black Star, and W.I.T.C.H.

Mahiru Butcher's Vanity

Futa Indulgent Top 3 Redraw

If art isn’t your thing which in this age I seriously doubt it- But you know what they say a pictures worth a thousand words. I personally think that’s undercutting the value of words though. Well, that’s when it’s taken literally it’s more of a figurative statement implying that what a picture does all by itself would take a thousand words to describe in every detail if not more. So, if a pictures worth a thousand words that a hundred thousand words equate to one picture- Again if we’re taking it in the literal sense.

What I’m saying is if you’re looking for imagery then she’s got the words for that too. Sometimes all an artists needs is for a writer to create just the right words to show them something they never could imagine otherwise!

Lights, Camera, Sing Your Sins (A Milgram actor au where the audience gets to see the innerworkings of Milgram!)

So Morning Rise to Light Us (How do you spend your mornings. The time of day where it feels like no one else around. The prelude to everything else you'll do that- We hardly ever think about it but having a morning routine in Milgram must be hard, right? Some people can't handle one roommate let alone nine. This fic goes over the prisoners morning routines.)

himawari-candyy

Let’s keep this simple the way it always should’ve been. Death, murder, direct, indirect, intentional or unintentional- The meaning of life after loss. Who gives a damn about any of that wax poetically elsewhere. Let’s call a spade a spade. No need to complicate matters. Let’s all just take a breather and sit with the facts.

There’s a victim here, a life that could’ve been spared. Compared to that undeniable fact do the justifications of the living really matter? Do they matter enough to overshadow the life lost, what it was what it could have been? I mean those justifications can only be given because they’re still standing. All of them still have a life to live, something to go back, things to look forward to.

In that sense the prisoners have been in the limelight far too long and many fans seem to agree- Well, at least the number one Hinako fan does!

This girl knows in her heart that Hinako deserved better in every way! In the narrative, in life, and especially in screentime. So many prisoners have pleaded with the audience to think about their victims. *cough* *cough* Shidou trial one voice drama.

Eh-hem sorry that was weird.

Himawari-candy heard that plea and said ya know who deserves that sort of thought Hinako! Because- Damn it, looking at Shidou’s victims on an individual level is impossible even for him.

Q.02 What do you think of your victim?

Shidou: I don’t know who in particular you’re referring to.

Seriously people might just have to ask this man trial three what he thought of his patients to narrow things down. So, what the hell are fans supposed to do just make them up think of the families he hasn’t even bothered to mention other than offhandedly?

Every individual that has been notably displayed as a victim within the characters’ stories has fans and detractors just like the main cast. Taking a minute to put ourselves in the victims’ shoes a bit can never hurt and can allow people to get a look at the whole situation. let alone any member of this audience.

Take a walk down this alternative path covered with cute art and her bubbly disarming sociability. The casualness makes the environment all the more welcoming. She reblogs fan art others have made as well. Her art has a nostalgic look to it akin to a children’s book making the most unsettling things have a sparkle of familiarity and warmth.

Happy Valentines Day

A Heart like A Birds

Always a pleasure to see it making the rounds. Oh yeah, she’s a fan of Alien Stage too! I wonder who her favorites are?

Kyanako

Huh- what’s that sound? Mourning bells- Now, who on earth would… Eh- Ah, of course. Hey, now- Don’t fault the execution(s). Things ending (like lives) is what gives them meaning after all! Well, known for her inclination towards angst and as one of Amane Momose’s biggest fans/defenders. Kyanako has a habit of exploring the good, the bad, and the angsty-

Order of Attack Banner

Order of Attack

Given her interests in Danganronpa, Your Turn to Die, as well as Long Live the Queen. She's definitely no stranger to dead ends. Hmm... Long Live the Queen, huh? I wonder if she could put some focus into Mu for a little bit to fling her in a Long Live the Queen au? Of course, Mu wouldn’t do the lumen route though.

When she’s not making the fandom a bit more lively with her presence Kyanako can be found enjoying her many ocs, appreciating and making music, and making some really cute clothes for her Milgram plushies.

She’s shown the prisoners hell and heaven alike.

The focus she puts into the interpersonal relationships between them before the collapse makes it all the more shocking when things finally come to their inevitable conclusion.

Conversations

Direct, prudent, and always welcoming she’s a joy to have in any fandom environment- But! Watch out just like Amane she gives as good as she gets.

6 MILLION VIEWS

Purge March Usurps MeMe

As one of the milgramblrgram prisoners she’s known for teaming up with others behind the scenes and sneak attacks galore- But; it’s all in good fun!

Huh, did any of you know about all the multitalented individuals in the fandom? Well, of course you did you’re all here as well! All of you are more here than I am. It must get daunting. It’s easy to get self-conscious when surrounded by talent on all ends.

Even easier to talk oneself out of trying but it’s important to remember that no one can provide your voice but you. It’s something wholly unique to yourself and at times that can be scary and sometimes you won’t always agree with or get along with others because of that uniqueness.

Hey, but it’s not scary- you know that right? It can’t be scary because it’s love! Putting our unique visions and feelings out there in the way that best represents and is most comfortable for us as individuals is the biggest form of self-love one can commit to. It’s something that everyone within this fandom commits to every day. Hitting those creative walls over and over feeling overlooked that’s an experience any artist is used to feeling be it with their original works or fanworks.

It's something every Milgram fan has become acquainted with due to the nature of the series itself. It incentivizes putting yourself out there in ways that one may have never done before otherwise. Kyanako has shown me in the way that she conducts herself what it means to be a fan of anything really. How being a fan isn’t about gatekeeping or knowing the one true reading it’s about allowing your passion for something drive you and your interests to paths you may not have trodden otherwise.

Being a fan of something should invite a person to do something they’ve never done before. To look at something in new and interesting ways. It’s something that is more for the individual than the group at times. Kyanako reminds me that liking something quietly doesn’t diminish how much it’s liked. Through her plethora of interests outside of Milgram and her willingness to always look at something new.

I think taking a moment to remember that could be so comforting to a lot of people here just as it was for me.

Linabirb

It’s all systems go when this Amane and Mahiru fan arrives to the scene! This emperor of edits can do it all- Icons, stimboards, layouts for twitter and tumblr! If you can imagine it they can edit it- Just follow the rules alright?

Milgram EEO Collaboration Icons

Milgram Hallucination Icons

You do know what happens to rule breakers- Of course you do!

Their other main interests include Vocaloid, Project Sekai, Twisted Wonderland, and hoyoverse games! Whoa- hang on this little lady does chainsaw man edits too… I- I have something I need to think about.

Also the proud owner of a Milgram! Linagram-

Linagram in the style of the Second Anniversary Milgram Art

Maristelina

Ah, this guy- I don’t know much about them. Wait now; hold on! Just because I don’t know much doesn’t diminish any of her many contributions to this fandom. I’ve seen them in passing often and I really like the one post they did on Harrow with translations of the newspapers.

That definitely gave me a lot to chew on. Oh yeah and there was the second link which is my personal favorite of theirs.

She does art, translations, and a few theories here and there.

Milgram Portal Timeline Masterpost

Trial 1 Song of the Prisoners

One could say he was a little integral for the more than two alter Mikoto theory. Some may know their name from the posts they made on that back in the day.

But Gunsli- I thought you didn’t like that whole line of questioning, and I still don’t. Please don’t get it twisted. Then why- Hold on, hold on. I like information whether that information is contrary to what I know, believe I know, or personally feel is the case does not matter. I treat most information neutrally.

If there’s a way it can make sense I will fucking look for that way. I’ll walk that bridge whether its with someone else or by myself I have walked that bridge.  Even though I can say I don’t see it. Some good points are made within some a good deal of those posts, and they’ve undoubtedly contributed to this space.

Now I’m not singling Maristelina out by any means there are more people on this list that discuss this idea and present it through art. Like it is not personal I am just giving credit where credit is due. They provided a lot of information in regards to this that’s worthy of respect. Information I’m certain has contributed to many people’s enjoyment of this series and that character. That’s something commendable. I will say I feel more depth could’ve been gone into in some of them and that it fell into a lot of the trappings that those conversations tend to.

Still for all their time spent doing what at times can be incredibly thankless work, his genuine love of the series, her immense persistence in displaying that love even when life starts being life. Maristelina without a doubt deserves many thanks from this fandom and me personally for always showing me something new and impressive.

Also like I said they make art as well I really like the ways they use lighting it’s super comforting and can give off this fluffy feel at times that I’m partial to.

meowkusunoki

Some may know this user from its Milgram memes. Maybe even his enjoyment of the Evillious Chronicles which was the first thing to come to Star’s mind when she saw the name. Personally, since I am not in the tag often this is the first time I’ve been acquainted with a good few of the people on this list works. I tend to stick to my little section, my little things, and not branch out too much.

So, I mostly know them as the creator of Dollgram. An ocmilgram with some very good character amvs and art. Right now, I would have to say my favorite character is Tadashi just because of how blatantly suspicious she is. She seems to be the sort of person who’s straight forward about their shortcomings despite trying to remain vague.

Very blunt which I like. The character dialogue is organic but feels like it could be flushed out more. The conversations are really engaging and the characterization shines through well. It gives off a feeling of idle chitchat well. I’d recommend checking it out. I had a lot of fun reading it.

Milk-ly

It’s your turn to- Create! If you’re reading all my ramblings, then I got no doubt you may enjoy hers as well! Always happy to start or contribute to a train of thought- if you’re looking to hammer out an idea this girl is the sort to start hitting out the dents with you!

Sweet and to the point she focuses on evening out the foundation o an idee. Fandom is a space where its quite easy to fall into a pattern of dismissing the opinions of others or getting defensive when someone else’s thoughts contradict your own beliefs. Hell, not even in just in fandom in life it can be very difficult to allow new perspectives in.

Kotoko and Futa's connection to witch trials and werewolf trials

What one believes to be common can be completely foreign to another. Because at the end of the day we’re all living lives that will for better or worse be independent of anyone other than ourselves. So, it’s nice to have someone who’s willing to take a moment to make space for your ideas and discuss them.

For me that’s one of my favorite things even when people disagree what I believe. Such as the Kazui situation. At the time it felt like a dogpile but I was really excited to hear everyone’s thoughts on it the timing was simply not the most ideal with life stuff going on. It really gave me a lot to think about when it came to the depictions of instruments in art.

Plus, I got to have a lot of fun looking up instruments and trying to disprove myself in a way. But in hindsight I was pretty whiny eh-heh though I was happy to talk to the person about it and enjoyed her genuineness. That experience reminded me that well people aren’t our worst assumptions and viewing things differently from each other is and should be enriching not degrading or disparaging.

Milk-ly is someone I’ve enjoyed seeing in the fandom because she’s a relaxing presence and tries to give everyone a fair shake. I respect that a lot. Especially when I recognize my own immatureness at times when it comes to presenting myself and my own points. I can’t help but be impressed by her.  

Regardless of how turbulent online spaces can be at times she’s been a chill presence all while providing sweet art and good laughs!

Mikoto art and memes

Any fandom is lucky to have someone like her in it. She’s into Your Turn to Die as well maybe one day I’ll go back and do that rhythm game.

Monopoisonous

Poison can be sweet in small doses. Don’t worry, don’t worry- Things haven’t reached the point of lethality yet. Known for their expert use of colors and grasp of anatomy- It’s a bit scary when this resident Mikoto fan goes all out, right?

Yuno art

Mikoto art

It’s an overwhelmingly unique style that blends realism and animation influences together in all the right ways. Hopefully they don’t end up overdosing on Mikoto content before making more~

Mulling-over-milgram

Casually punctual this Milgram focused blogger analyzes, draws and has even created their very own Milgram- Chromogram! Where it’s up to the reader to discern what the prisoners have done through a series of websites. A beautiful combination of graphic design, storytelling, and the old fashion website formats come together masterfully in this new prison.

Except there’s a twist in order to move forward here one party must be found guilty. Whomever the majority of guards find innocent will be innocent and the person who fails to meet the majority’s expectations will be guilty by default.

It’s a bit of a strange balancing act where one party needs to look bad for the other to appear good. I don’t know how well it will turn out though. Some people have more of an advantage than others going off of the first pair on trial. It’d be very easy for some to view one party as helpless to their circumstances and the other as an instigator or complicit.

I’d be surprised if the verdict there is even close. Though maybe others would disagree. Take a look at it for yourselves and come to your own conclusion. Regardless of the conclusion one ends up drawing it’s a hell of an experience all the same.

Their art style is very reminiscent to some old school visual novels. Well, at least to me it’s giving off that sort of vibe. It really adds to the atmosphere of their Milgram. Oh yeah- In general they seem to have structured way of presenting their thoughts online that sometimes breaks into a more casual tone. They tend to elaborate in a grammatically correct way hence the casually punctual. It was more about punctuation than timing ha…bad joke, huh?

Alright, alright I get it fandom is filled with a lot of talented visual artists and people who can hold a writing utensil better than I can. The amount of art people have access to at the swipe of a finger can feel daunting. One might just figure it’s easier to just find a singular artist to stick to and call it a day. Ya, know like some may enjoy the illusion of choice more than the actual ability to choose.

An abundance of artists in any area is a good problem to have. It can foster variety and ingenuity when engaged with in good conscience. It’s easy to take visual art for granted when we’re all exposed to it so often. Even those who create can fall into the trap of comparisons and end up discouraging themselves. But- Art appreciation is a skill one must hone for themselves not only as a creator but as a viewer. It’s easy to look at a piece and stay ignorant of the process it took to get there.

It's easy to like something in passing but much more difficult to enjoy something wholeheartedly without pause and show that for all to see. The milgram fandom is lucky to have visual artists from around the globe who won’t hesitate to make their appreciation of the series known through their works.

But Gunsli it’s soooo much art it’s so many links- what a modern society problem to have back in Kazui’s day they didn’t have art. Why do you think colonizers stole so much of it? It was hard out there they had to find that shit in caves and call it history.

“I can’t, I can’t take it anymore.” Aw come on don’t be that way. The best sort of person is the type who can tell someone every little reason they like something. What have none of you ever looked at a piece of art and gone more than wow nice. Instead said something like the use of colors is amazing, it gives off the feeling of a lazy afternoon, the anatomy gives off a loose unimpeded feeling, the rigid use of lines adds to the constricted atmosphere.

Come on go a little further why don’t you- Like our next artist!

Nomeniko

Now here’s a person that knows how appreciate art just as much as they make it!  Not only do they create amazing works but he also reblogs a good deal of art from others. She’s art appreciation embodied- It’s pretty amazing to be someone who not only creates but can see the value and beauty in the creations around them. People tend to forget that before creating comes appreciating- Ah, there’s so many works I’ve appreciated in my short life and I’m looking to enjoy many more.

Amane's birthday conversation (2024)

Mikoto system art

When it comes to posting he's got a pretty lax cadence that matches the casualness of their blog well. As for their art this is another nostalgic homerun being a bit reminiscent of FLCL and OFF. The emphasis of their art comes through in the forms with stunning gestures that manages to display movement and feel in a way that can be striking or comforting depending on the overall tone of the piece.

All that to say it’s really good. Sorry, I look at a lot of art but my descriptors can be quite lame- Plus I can compare a lot. I hope that’s not offensive to anyone’s efforts.

Polarmary

This person is never Vi-ing for anyone’s attention. Straight forward and earnest when it comes to her interests, she can be found displaying her enjoyment of Milgram, Arcane, and Kotoko in particular. With occasional post about their day to day here as well. She’s got an style that’s well to put it bluntly they’ve got a range. With a good understanding off form and lighting their art can go from cold and stoic to warm and fluffy.

Deep Cover Kotoko

Girls night

My personal favorites are their animal drawings, the one of the hippo is very cute. Oh then there’s the one with the girls having a sleep over- Plus, the one where Kotoko just adopts a wolf cub. Personally, I think if she just did that she wouldn’t be here but that’s neither here or there. (Give Kotoko and Futa emotional support pets. It’s always correct.)

Fun fact my favorites from Arcane are Jinx and Ekko. I find this fact fun mostly because I think the reputation I’ve garnered from being in the Milgram fandom is people assuming that I just hate girls and are harsh on them for no real reason. Sometimes all while assuming my gender. My friends find this understanding very funny given what I tend to let slide- and their impression is I am,

Too naïve.

Too forgiving.

Usually, I’m taking Milgram so seriously or being critical as some may see it because that’s how I engage with and enjoy engaging with media. Milgram just happens to invite that sort of scrutiny. I’m pleasantly surprised to see so many people in this fandom are also into Arcane.

Purgemarchlockdown

Are you locked in yet? Well; are you locked in yet? I can't hear you- Because this is a prewritten text interaction, and I literally cannot hear you and you can’t hear me. Huh I wonder what it sounds like when each of you is reading this internally what type of voice is given to me- Well that’s not important the fact is your eyes are on it and that means you're still reading.

I bet some of you may be wondering what exactly are you trying to sell us on here Gunsli? What are you trying to accomplish through propping up these other fans. That’s exactly the thing I’m trying to accomplish though. Propping up fans. The one's that have made this environment what it is outside of myself. The people that elevate other people’s perspectives to make something greater than the sum of its parts.

The Milgram staff tries its best to give attention to its fans regardless of where they’re from. Yet, the truth is there are still barriers between the staff in their global audience. Their efforts to include overseas fans with everything is commendable. However, I want people to know there are other things they can do to show appreciation not only towards the pieces of media they may enjoy but the people they enjoy those things with.

It doesn't have to be like this. Anyone can show their appreciation of other fans in ways that are completely unique to them. There are so many examples. Hosting games, having holiday events, art trades… Those are all things fans have hosted to make this experience more fun for everyone here. Even just sending a few kind words like the ones I received can mean so much. To quote a certain piece of media “Without love, it cannot be seen”.

There's no one that knows this better than Purgemarchlockdown. It understands the weight of words more than most here. It knows that words have power. That a promise is a promise and that’s it. Generally referred to by Nott it has shown me the importance of not only recognizing the weight of your own words but the weight of the words the people around me use as well.

That one can recognize intent and impact simultaneously.

Regardless of what you’re interested in there’s a mindset specific to you and you alone that only entered this world when you did. Thinking on one’s own, liking, disliking to the point of tunnel vision those conversations, disagreements, and thoughts only you can have. The limits in ourselves only we can see. That’s the thing we all bring to the table in any situation.

So,being able to take a step back and recognize one’s own intent in comparison to the impact one may have had. It’s important. Because no one can ever guess how someone else will take them. Everyone wants to be having fun but they can never really tell the point that fun has become someone else’s expense. It’s easy to tote around values one never has to follow through on.

Easy to type a few simple words about how one doesn’t have to forgive their abusers or be near them, intrusive thoughts don’t define a person, promote one’s self as a safe space for people of color and the marginalized. Claim solidarity when all one wants is the accolades from seeming progressive for appearing kind. But it’s important to be able to wade through the bullshit and see how the people that one shares a space with actually treat marginalized individuals, how they respond to people they claim they’re a safe space whether those people disagree with them or not, where’s their line at do they care about everyone or only those who agree with them.

How solid is our compassion, how firm are these things we think should be natural course of things. Do we stand on it when we say it’s harder to be kind than it is to be cruel or when things get hard do we commit to the easy way. Mercy, kindness, active listening and empathy isn’t easy- Sin isn’t easy. The impact we all have on the people around isn’t easy.

At a point I had to learn I needed to stop holding my intent in higher regard than my impact. I had to look at how I responded to things and extend mercy to myself for the ways I fall short my own expectations and think about how what I do impacts others. All while understanding that doesn’t mean the intent doesn’t matter anymore.

Yet, the same thing is true. If one spends all their life worrying about how they’ll be taken, if something is too much or too little, if they should check in on someone that’s having a hard time or not because of how appropriate they think it may be… No one gets help from that. No one benefits from someone squashing their own concerns.

Bravery to me is the ability to say I see someone is having a hard time and though it may make life a little more difficult for me or my attempts may be spurned I want to check if they’re okay. At the expense of my ego, even if I may not get answer, I want them to know how I feel and how even if briefly they made my life better. It takes a lot of courage to put the ball in someone else’s court.

Just let go of control of a situation and meet someone where they are and hope they meet you back. Now you may be thinking, “Gunsli what does that have to do with fandom- or the Milgram fandom specifically.” A lot it has a lot to do with fandom in general and the Milgram fandom. Yamanaka wrote these characters with the intent of them being like any other person in life. They aren’t meant to be viewed so two dimensionally regardless of what disorders they may.

Kotoko and fascism

Power dynamics in Milgram

Every character is a full person with multiple ranges of emotions as well as beliefs. If we can’t treat the fans we share a space with like other complete human beings how can we in honesty give the same courtesy to the stories we enjoy. It’s easy to say this is simply the case. Someone is just x and this other someone is just y. It’s easy to focus on compare and contrast reasonings.

Yet, it’s harder to look at someone one disagrees with and think how is this person like me, though.

Can we look past our egos? Can we stop allowing a character’s mindset to boost us up and validate our egos and make us feel good and secure in our existence because they get it this shows that people get it- And see these things for what they are? Yes, it’s a glorious feeling to see someone write out exactly how one may have felt or has been feeling in any medium- But admiration is the furthest thing from understanding.

Feeling good is nice. Yet, knowing how and why something makes us feel good gives us all knowledge on ourselves. Knowledge that allows us to take a step back and recognize when our biases may be getting manipulated. Not just with Milgram but with things like, Slay the Princess, Digimon, Umineko, Revolutionary Girl Utena, Puella Magi Madoka Magica- All things Nott brings the exact same energy it brings to Milgram.

Because when one is able to recognize their likes and dislikes anyone is able to enjoy everything to the fullest like it can.

Create Girl Amane

House of Leaves Shidou

Vincord

Huh- Ah, hello to you! I hope your year has been going splendidly. Hm, I’m probably about to say something no one will understand other than me. Bu-but her art kind of reminds me of playing with clay! Ah how do I explain it. See this is what I meant in the last one about my way of describing art being weird.

I don’t describe it in the technical sense, I describe it based off the weight or feeling it gives off. I’m pretty sure Star doesn’t even understand this one and she’s proofreading. It’s like when I look at art I kind of think of it in the sense of what it would be like to touch. It gives off the firmness but flexibility of molding clay.

That’s been sculpted into a fine shape but could bend or break under the slightest pressure. It has a firm fragility to it that I really like, it’s rather impressive! It’s difficult to make something rigid but cushiony all at once. On top of that her expression work is really good too.

Princess Mononoke Yuno and Kotoko

When she’s not drawing fanart she can be found posting about her interests and talking about her ocs. I wish I talked about my ocs more openly! Hopefully you keep it up and all your years to come are better than the last.

Waivyjellyfish

She hardly ever stings with an affable way of speaking she makes waves in any fandom. One of Es’ biggest fans! It’s Waivy- Her art is very squishy. I’d say the feel of it is very reminiscent of flan. Since it doesn’t give off a feel as hard as jello or as soft as pudding this is nice middle ground comparison.

Harlequin (Arlekino) Es

Es art

Her lining tends to be fluid causing it to catch the eye more easily. Even sketches end up having a nice yet not overbearing weight to them. Giving off a solid but squishy to jiggly feel. Now where Waivy abilities shine through the most is with character designs, displays of movement, and perspective.

She’s great at drawing things in a way where one is easily able to pick up the mannerisms and movements of the subject. Meaning despite being still it still manages to feel very animated and lively. Her expression work also gives a good deal of incite into the characters making them easy to read from a glance.

This shines through the most with her ocs the Dokuro Family. Outside of drawing Waivy also does 3D printing. I’m a bit curious about how that goes in general since I don’t know much about it myself. She’s a 3D printer by specialty with a bunch of other media interests. Some that I hadn’t heard for a while such as Katekyo Hitman Reborn (one day I will finish what I start that day won’t be today sorry Tsuna), One Piece (sorry Luffy), and Zenless Zone Zero to name a few.

My friend is into Zenless Zone Zero and I had the pleasure of seeing that all their sponsored ads on tumblr had been flagged for breaking community guidelines because I don’t know tumblr is a functioning website, I guess. This has nothing to do with anything it was just weird as fuck like what did this ad do? It was everyone one of them on my mobile for a bit. Like I’m not complaining it was kind of like going ad free weird none the less. So, I mostly know that one due to that. We were actually talking about the four horsemen of the apocalypse because of it recently.

Waivy sometimes writes as well but it’s rare. She tends to be a pleasure in the fandom and open to requests. Just don’t expect anything immediately and follow the rules!

Lastly, I know that it’s difficult to put oneself out there when it comes to communicating likes. It can feel embarrassing and cause a good deal of unwarranted anxiety to express positivity. Especially when you’re uncertain of how the other party may take it. As someone who gets anxious about doing those sorts of things myself, I can empathize. That or maybe I’m just projecting a bit.

I’ve realized lately that it’s very easy for some to be dragged into a sandpit of negativity. It’s so much easier to give into to being critical when something strikes a nerve than to find anything good within it. It’s an honest but short-sighted response to a stimulus but that’s what makes it so human.

Contrastingly, people tend to put a lot more thought into being kind or showing positivity. So much in fact that they may talk themselves out of doing anything at all or convince themselves they’re doing too much. Just thinking about it can feel embarrassing and spark self-doubt like should I really be saying this, is it too much etc.

So, I wanted to make it clear that this wasn’t weird at all to me, and I greatly appreciate you spending your time on writing up such nice words for me. I know that it took a lot of time for me to answer. My apologies for that. Ultimately I saw this as a good opportunity to pay it forward and pay some respect to the others that make this fandom more unique. Even if I don't engage with others often.

I hope that wherever anyone is at right now that we're all having the best new years eve or day that we can. That we go into the new year having learned more and looking forward to more amazing things to come regardless of the struggles that may crop up along the way. There are so many things that online creations can't convey be it a piece of art, analysis or a post, I hope in 2025 people are able to recognize the existences behind the screen more than the things they make on it.

That we all start appreciating and respecting each other more regardless of how close we may or may not be. Though I know certain people would find that hypocritical coming from me. I'm not saint and I don't forgive everything and everyone. Though the one thing I carry in everything I do is respect for the agency of others. I do believe fully I don't have to like someone to respect they're alive and disliking them doesn't make anyone a object of my disrespect.

That's always how I'm gonna see it. Outside of that I hope to get to spend a lot more time with Star while talking about things I enjoy. I want to make it clear this ask really made my year in a lot of ways. I'm not trying to be holier than thou or force some air of false positivity. I really do think internet spaces can be a lot more fun when we manage our expectations of others within these spaces and sit with our feelings for a bit before reacting.

At the same don't get used to like all this kindness- I'm going into 2025 like a mirror people are getting what they give with me. I'm not a saint I'm a petty, mean, individual who is doing their very best to choose kindness every day and when I fail choose I will fail to do so in an spectacularly human way. Bottom line is I'm going to be obnoxious about Milgram next year.

I am going to have as much fun with it as I possibly can as respectfully as I can. I am ready to see hell and bring hell right back. Because I'm enjoying all of this until the very end.

(Star here: Ever since Gunsli came up with this idea I've been interested in seeing how it pans out. This year has been rough but there have also been a lot of people trying to make things better than how they first came across it. Even if it's by only a bit.

Gunsli has put in so much effort and energy into milgram stuff, it's been impressive to see. She's been reaching out more and more and it's heartening to see at least some of her efforts responded to in kind. Excited is a good look for her :- 3

That being said, I'm the one hitting post, since Gunsli is going to be out for a good few hours. >:- 3c if you want to, you should surprise her with messages. Also, from me- I hope everyone's new year pans out better than this one!)

[genderqueerdykes]

Hi there, I’ve recently discovered ur blog and it has helped me a lot. I have a question… I hope I’m not being insensitive or rude but.. okay I’m a trans dude, but sometimes I’m nonbinary. Sometimes I’m a guy and other times I’m nonbinary- it’s like gender-fluid but without the she/her… I don’t know… is there a name for it? Or am I just weird? I also need some advice.

Everyday makes me feel horrible for being a trans dude. Everyday I hear horrible stories about men and everyone seems to be in agreement of “eeF Men!!” and men being idiots. And I can’t help but agree- but then I feel like crap for being a guy- a trans guy no less. (Not to mention how horrible it is to stereotype men- it’s something I’m working on) My family is Christian and when I was found out… they were far from welcoming. Which doesn’t help with my raging dysphoria. I don’t have anywhere to turn to about this because there is no one like me- everyone makes fun of the LGBTIA+ community and no one respects my pronouns. I try to defend myself but I can’t get mad cause then I feed into the stereotypes. Everyone hates guys and everyone hates trans people. I don’t know what to do, nothing I can do cause of my age. Do you have any advice? Just… anything, tips or stuff.

- Coins

hello! theres no right or wrong way to be nonbinary or genderfluid. genderfluid people can experience any genders there's no rules. you can also use whatever pronouns you want

i'm sorry it's so hard for you right now. the man hating really is out of control its literally so normalized right now it's brutal. people think it's causing a problem somehow. i would say it's okay to embrace yourself as a man. men are not the problem, it's toxic masculinity, the patriarchy, the cages we have built around manhood. being a man is not a problem. experiencing manhood is not a problem. it's okay to be a guy.

it's okay to acknowledge yourself as a guy. join spaces for trans men and talk to others who get you. focus on building up your sense of self. seeing other people living their lives really helps with this. remind yourself that this is literally all petty bullshit and you're not a walking problem. you're a person who deserves to love themselves. take care

[darkcircles4lyfe]

There's something that's been bothering me for a while now, in terms of bnha's ending and it's final canon pair. I had a hard time understanding the way people seen to interpret their "superiority" over other pairs because they are "pure, healthy and wholesome", adding in how strange the author's intentions came across, and just feeling even more confused.

Until i came across a NileRed video of all things. (It feels so bizarre bringing such a random video to this discussion but bear with me lmao) Where he attempted to make "the world's purest cookie" by creating it in a lab, basically. Using the purest form of every ingredient he was able to find because "well it's pure, so it must be better, right?". And it was very amusing watching a guy who never baked before struggle to make even something so basic, with a decent, easy recipe. Everyone was excited until it came time to taste it, and it ended up being the blandest thing he's ever tasted.

And then another youtuber, Ann Reardon, who's a professional baker, not only explained the wrong in the use of the ingredients showed in the video, but also tested the recipe he used normally, and the result was just a nice choc chip cookie. There was nothing wrong with it.

Nile's entire problem was that he didn't know a thing about the nuances of baking as a science of it's own, and only went by what he, a chemist with no experience in baking, thought would work the best.

To me, that is literally that pair's entire existence in physical form. People in favor of it use the first basis of how "pure and predictable" is good regardless, because they deemed it inherently healthy but didn't bother with actually analysing it further. The story had the recipe for a regular, typical shonen romance, but both use of it and ingredients were all totally wrong.

And the author, not having any experience with writing romance, did what he thought was best, (maybe because he liked them together and was attached), but fumbled tremendously when he realized he wouldn't be able to make them happen organically, because it was too late, it didn't fit anywhere else in the story, and there were too many things in the way as well. So he did what he could to side step them into a believable conclusion, but in doing so, he sacrificed his story's flavor and complexity for something that fell flat and became unpopular among true fans of the series.

"I think that my interpretation of purity was naive... Purity didn't have anything to do with flavor or smell or texture. Purity is its own thing, and if you want to achieve true purity, you must sacrifice everything. Everything that makes it worth it."

(fantastic quote from the NileRed NileBlue video)

Anon, you've really charmed me with this metaphor, and I think it works. The details get a little fuzzy once you know that the "pure" ingredients he got are actually made so you know exactly what's in them, not necessarily so that they are impurity-free. But he still applied an extreme level of hubris in using chemistry lab materials to make a "perfect" or "better" cookie, without understanding anything about the very different science that is baking. Like, he didn't know what baker's chocolate even is. Besides, what he sought was impossible, because chocolate practically cannot be made 100% without "bug parts" etc. And in the end, he made a really fucking terrible cookie anyway. I'm fascinated by the fact that it didn't even have a smell...

I'm definitely not one to judge ships against each other to say that one is inherently better, but when the other side keeps pushing this idea of purity, it does make me pause. Do they like it because it's bland? Because it ticks off all their morality requirements? Because it affirms their idea of normal? Honestly I'd have a lot more respect for them if they openly rejected what the source material has given them in favor of what their own imaginations can come up with. Some do, to be sure, but most still try to defend canon. Come on. Give them something to struggle with each other over and grow from. Anything but this constant unspoken blushing awkwardness.

I do want to put a small wrinkle in what you've said, though. I don't want to assume Horikoshi was doing what he thought was best with 431. Think about it this way. If he, much like many shonen mangaka like Oda for example, set out to write a story where romance is not the focus because he wasn't interested in writing those kinds of plots, but instead more interested in developing plots that are based in politics, friendship, family, sacrifice, and examining the dichotomy of "good" and "evil," why not maintain that priority through the end? Why would he spend dozens of pages systematically dismantling everything he cared about in the first place for the sake of something he clearly viewed as secondary? Like yeah, maybe he did think they were cute and was still attached to the idea of them ending up together, but I can't believe he thought they were worth this much compared to everything else he actually put effort into.

However, this "pure cookie" metaphor you've made fits quite well with how publishing can operate, where the rules of marketing are often erroneously applied to art of storytelling, like lab chemistry to baking. The things that give the story its uniqueness and flavor are refined and boiled down for the sake of making it predictable, benign, safe, easy to digest. So it can sell. So it can avoid controversy with conservative society. I'm honestly really sick of debating all the points of this ending as if they are definitely 100% only Horikoshi's vision or personal mistakes. We really don't know that and maybe we never will. I for one at least hope that we keep in mind that censorship is still a very real and current issue, and I'm not going to speak ill of the dead, as it were.

btw, I was largely inspired by this thread about Steven Universe on twitter, and tbh I include this reasoning not just for 431, but other things along the way, especially the last 10-15 chapters or so.

[nihilnovisubsole]

hey, gang! miss me? no? too bad, because i miss you. i think about you all the time. i hope the year has treated you well. this is, what, the third, fourth year i've done a year-in-review post? have i done more than that? it's after midnight. i can't be bothered to check. i fear a lot of the mysteries of getting older, but i will say, i don't mind that it's easier to shrug certain things off. i look back on all the times i hid from some scary fandom discourse and go, "god, why did i care?" it helps to have other things going on.

on the other hand, i guess 2024 was the year of finding out what happens when you put everything into your day job and leave nothing for the weekend. it was a wild year at work, which i assume is normal as a game ramps up to ship. i gave a lot, which was good! i'd be lying if i said it didn't take a lot out of me. important people at trade shows have now seen things i wrote! i got to work with voice actors! good news: a lot of your faves are great people! i also made, like, no progress on any of my own projects except the picrew, which i still chip away at. yes, i still draw. more on that later.

one or two people in my coworkers-turned-friends circle have broached the subject of occupational burnout and whether i've reached it yet. as i said last year, i remember what voltage burnout felt like, and it took a much weirder, angrier journey to get me there. it's kind that they're looking out for me, though. i think it's something all creative people could stand to keep an eye on. a buddy of mine even gave a GDC talk about it. it's a shame GDC is so stingy with access to its talks. at least this article has a great summary if you're interested in learning more.

there were other things, though. my mother broke her hip in june, which forced me into a caregiver role that i'm not suited to. don't worry, she's fine now. i love her, so it was important to me, but it didn't leave a lot of time to sit and write for fun. i started what i thought would be a casual fanfic project, wildly over-scoped it, and made a ton of work for myself. i outlined an original story about a difficult, personal subject and a culture i'm descended from, but not really familiar with. there's a lot of pressure to do it right, is what i'm saying. i'm taking the only path i can think of, which is to bury myself in research. the trouble is, a lot of the literature about this time and place is also very challenging, so it burns a lot of brain calories. it's a far cry from what usually gets me to start a story, which is "i want these characters to sleep together. let's see where it goes."

in a different time, i would've taken this struggle as an omen that i wasn't the right person to write this story and abandoned it. it's critical that i don't take the coward's way out this time if i'm going to honor the question i asked at the end of last year. "what is my work saying?" my mother told me the same thing a few months ago: "i think you're a good writer, you just need to find good things to say." i take that to mean i have to write closer to real experiences, which means including the parts i don't like: disappointment, loss, mistakes, uncertainty. i had all of this year to figure out how, and the evidence shows i didn't. i don't know what to say. "oh well?" maybe you can't put a deadline on these things. in the meantime, hercule and aida deserve more stories (it's an hercule and aida story), and i want more people to know about them, and maybe i can say something real through them.

this was also the year that i reckoned with the other side of "all it takes is money to make problems go away." i was able to travel, i mean really travel, for the first time. all it took was being able to throw a chunk of my salary at it. i had some shipping drama [sorry, not the romantic kind] where i had no choice but to pony up a ton of customs fees. my arm PT didn't work, so i'll have to try a specialist who's out of my insurance network and pay full price to see them. this must be what they call "being a successful adult." i thought it'd look different. i wanted to live in the city and have a hot, mysterious boyfriend. well, i can still live closer to the city if i keep saving up for that house, and maybe some hot, mysterious guy will take pity on me someday. do you think they like 32-year-olds who play video games and have flat chests? i went all the way to paris and still didn't find out. damn! 🤌

nah, i'm kidding. i mean, i'm not, but i have other things to worry about. as i mentioned above, things with my arm have taken a curious turn. after six and a half years of assuming i had tendinitis, i found out, not only is it likely not that, i may not be injured at all. the particulars of this theory get out into the weeds of neuromuscular science, so i'll only bore you with them if you want me to. the point is, if any of it holds water, it would go a long way toward explaining why none of the typical rest/heat/stretching/strengthening protocols have worked. it's actually unfathomable how much effort i've put into solving this mystery just so i can get back to drawing fictional people kissing. you can call my creative work boring or predictable or whatever you want, but never say i haven't committed to the bit.

i don't tend to read my previous years-in-review. this year, i did, because i sensed i was grappling with a lot of the same things as last year. there's nothing i hate like being repetitive. not that you would know from the way i keep writing the same three character archetypes. humor me here. i was all set to keep whining until i reminded myself how 2023 had gone, and i thought, "geez. it wasn't that bad." nobody i love died, for a start. my health is better. i have some unread books sitting around. as terrible as 2023 was, i survived it. if you're reading this, you did too.

so here's what i'm going to do. i think you should do it with me, though whether i'm in any position to give advice is up to you. i'm not going to make any predictions about whether 2025 will be bad or good. i'm just going to see what happens. deal? all right. we'll check in next year. you'd better be there!