#and she had many opinions on this question

[f1daydreamer]

Timeless

Genre: Fluff with a touch of angst

Plot: A budding romance between Lewis Hamilton (38) and the reader (25) is tested by the pressures of fame, the scrutiny of an age gap, and the lingering doubts of belonging in each other's worlds.

Warnings: Mentions of insecurities, fame-induced stress, emotional vulnerability, and a heavy dose of fluff at the end.

---

You hadn’t planned on being at the Monaco Grand Prix, let alone in the paddock among the glittering elite. When your best friend begged you to join her, swearing it would be an unforgettable experience, you caved.

“C’mon, how often do you get to be this close to Formula 1?” she’d argued.

Your response had been a half-hearted shrug. “I don’t even follow it. What am I supposed to do there?”

Apparently, the answer was meet Lewis Hamilton.

You hadn’t recognized him immediately. It wasn’t his fame that struck you first—it was his presence. There was something magnetic about the way he carried himself, a calmness that felt out of place in the chaos of the paddock. And when his eyes met yours for the first time, it was as if the noise around you dimmed, leaving only the two of you.

It started with small talk about the chaos of race day. You joked about feeling out of place, and he smiled, saying he understood that feeling better than you’d think. His laugh, deep and unguarded, lingered in your mind long after the conversation ended. So when he asked for your number, you gave it to him without hesitation.

---

What followed was nothing short of magical, though not without complications.

Your conversations were endless, spanning across time zones and countries as Lewis balanced his relentless schedule with a growing connection to you. He introduced you to the world of Formula 1 with patience, laughing at your many questions but always answering them thoughtfully. You, in turn, introduced him to your quieter world—one free of flashing cameras and constant scrutiny.

But as months passed, doubts crept in. Not about him—you’d never felt more seen, more loved—but about whether you could truly fit into his life.

The first crack appeared one night when you were scrolling through social media.

“‘Lewis Hamilton spotted with mystery young woman,’” you read aloud, the headline making your chest tighten. The comments below it stung even worse.

“She’s probably just another fling.”

“Honestly, he should date someone on his level.”

“Who even is she?”

You didn’t notice Lewis enter the room until he gently took your phone from your hands.

“Why do you read that stuff?” he asked softly, sitting beside you on the couch.

You avoided his gaze, feeling foolish. “I don’t know. I guess I wanted to see what people thought of us.”

“And?” His voice was calm, but his eyes searched yours.

“They think I’m not enough for you,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Lewis let out a heavy sigh, his fingers brushing over yours. “Listen to me. The only opinion that matters is mine. And I know exactly who you are—smart, kind, beautiful, and more than enough.”

His words made your heart ache, but the doubts didn’t vanish overnight.

---

The turning point came at the next Monaco Grand Prix.

Lewis had insisted you come, this time as his guest. You’d hesitated, knowing how much attention it would draw, but his quiet reassurance won you over.

“Come with me,” he’d said. “I want you there. With me.”

Walking through the paddock hand in hand, you felt the weight of countless eyes on you. The whispers were there, faint but undeniable.

“Who is she?”

“Isn’t she a bit young for him?”

You squeezed Lewis’s hand, trying to steady your nerves. He looked down at you, his expression softening when he saw the tension in your shoulders.

“Hey,” he murmured, stopping to face you. “You okay?”

You nodded, though it wasn’t entirely true. “I just… feel out of place here.”

Lewis stepped closer, his free hand cupping your cheek. “You belong here. With me. Don’t let them make you doubt that, okay?”

The sincerity in his voice melted your insecurities, if only for the moment.

---

That evening, as you sat together on the balcony of his Monaco apartment, the city lights casting a golden glow around you, you finally voiced the question that had been haunting you.

“Do you ever wonder if this is… too much? The age gap, the pressure, everything?”

Lewis was quiet for a moment, his gaze fixed on the horizon. Then he turned to you, his expression both tender and resolute.

“I won’t lie to you,” he began. “This isn’t easy. But the best things in life never are. And you? You’re worth it. Every challenge, every doubt. I wouldn’t trade what we have for anything.”

Tears stung your eyes as you leaned into him, his arms wrapping around you in a protective embrace.

“I’m scared sometimes,” you admitted.

“I know,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your hair. “But we’ll figure it out together. You’re not alone in this.”

---

When race day arrived, you found yourself back in the paddock, this time with a newfound confidence.

Lewis had qualified on pole, and when he crossed the finish line in first place, your heart swelled with pride. You watched as he climbed out of the car, his grin wide and unapologetically joyous as he sprayed champagne over the crowd.

When he finally found you in the chaos, his arms pulled you into a tight embrace, heedless of the cameras.

“I told you,” he murmured against your ear, his voice full of emotion. “You’re where you’re meant to be.”

And as you looked up at him, the doubts that once clouded your mind faded away, replaced by the certainty of his love.

---

A/N: Hi lovelies! I hope you enjoyed this longer, fluffier one-shot with just a sprinkle of angst for emotional depth. Lewis has such a warm, grounding presence, so writing this dynamic felt really special. Let me know your thoughts or if you’d like to see more stories like this! <3

[in-amor-veritas]

Hii! Perhaps 17 and wilmon?

Eeeee Thank youuuu!!!! 💕

You got

Girlfriend: Omar Rudberg 😅

cheating/university (Wille is crown prince) au oops

More below nsfw🌶️

When Wilhelm had been invited by his classmate over to study this hadn’t been his intention.

No. He had definitely not been expecting to end up like this, a hand tangled in Simon’s curls, trying to suppress the sounds coming from the back of his throat as the other man kneeled between his legs with Wilhelms cock in his mouth.

But here they are.

And okay, maybe he had made it far too obvious that he found Simon completely distracting and alluring, judging by the teasing lilt in his voice when he agreed and the flash of satisfaction in his eyes when Wilhelm had asked.

And okay, this isn’t exactly the first time this has happened.

Actually it’s happened a few times now over the past month.

They’d met in a shared philosophy class and Simon had been quick to challenge him every time he answered a question or shared an opinion. Wilhelm was convinced Simon took immense pleasure in putting him on the spot considering his title and the whole royal of it all which Simon had been quick to disparage from day one.

And fuck Wilhelm thought it was hot. He had never been challenged by anyone before Simon, at least not so publicly with so many eyes on him.

Simon was something delicious and forbidden, hanging just out of reach like original sin.

But maybe not so out of reach.

It hadn’t taken long at all for them to give into the strange, electrifying tension between them. It shouldn’t make sense, it shouldn’t turn him on this much but when Simon had cornered him, pinned him against the wall and looked him over with a sirens smile and bright eyes and said — no one has to know — well Wilhelm had folded instantaneously.

Simon does this thing with his tongue that makes Wilhelms toes curl. He knows exactly how to draw every desperate cry and stifled moan out of Wilhelms lips. The slick heat of his mouth and pressure of his tongue has Wilhelm seeing stars as he feels himself getting closer and closer to oblivion.

It’s just the two of them in this room, well Malin is stationed outside but she doesn’t count. It’s just the oppressive heat and lack of air and Simon’s lips and the filthy noises they make on his cock.

And then he pulls back and Wilhelm falls forward, following the loss of sensation, gasping, “What—“

“Look at me.” Simon demands and he does, he has to.

Simon is a debauched vision there on the floor, on his knees looking up at him. His lips are pink and swollen and glistening wet and his hair is a mess from where Wilhelms fingers have been twisted into the dark curls.

“Simon—“ he groans, letting his hand take him by the jaw, tilting his face up to stare in awe at him, his fine features, thick curls, dark eyes hooded in pleasure, “You’re so…”

A flash of satisfaction blooms in those eyes as he speaks, Simon leans into his hand which is now cupping his face. “What? Tell me.”

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” Wilhelm murmurs, biting his lip as everything in him feels too tight, too sensitive, too hungry.

Simon smirks and rises from the floor, Wilhelm can’t draw his eyes from the planes of skin, seemingly endless and burnished gold in the lamplight. He crawls into his lap and Wilhelm holds him there.

“Am I taking good care of you?” Simon teases and he nods burying his nose into the other mans neck, dragging in a long deep inhale.

“Yes.” He chokes,

“Better than her?”

And for a moment Wilhelm feels guilt, white hot and lancing as he thinks about Karolina, his girlfriend who is out with friends tonight, who has no idea what he’s doing.

No their relationship isn’t perfect, yes they fight a lot, yes he might be forcing himself to be with her because she’s everything his mother and the court wants him to be with. But fuck—he’s been lying to her all this time.

The thought is gone as quickly as it comes however when Simon rocks their hips together, their cocks grinding together. It’s pulled from his mind and vaporizes into nothingness as his synapses fire and his vision is only Simon Simon Simon.

“Tell me the truth and I’ll let you fuck me again. Just like this.” Simon whispers into his ears, sending shivers rippling through him.

“Better.” His voice is strangled.

Nothing is better than this.

[whispersleo]

MY TASTE IN MEN

This was supposed to be a warm-up meme sketch, but I started writing the comparisons seriously, so here’s the post...

Astarion and Illario

They become "villains"/bad guys as a response to trauma.

They use their beauty and body to deceive and objectify themselves to get what they believe they want.

They have suffered physical, verbal, and emotional abuse that would break anyone.

They don't want to see themselves as victims, nor show—they hate feeling—weakness. They want to be stronger and crave power at any cost.

They display superiority toward others when their entire lives they have been beneath or in someone's shadow.

They have become so accustomed to lying and manipulating that I doubt they even know their true selves.

They approach someone who welcomes them with open arms, all the while thinking about how to use that person.

They fall to pieces if you show them genuine affection and love, what it’s truly meant to be.

They would kill for you.

They are my wet rats; they have no body hair.

I think, after all, they do enjoy sex—it probably involves unconventional things.

What they want and what they need are VERY different things.

I can fix them.

They have a strange relationship with blood.

They would betray you if it meant saving their own lives.

Showing vulnerability is the last thing they want, and strangely, it's what would save both of them from becoming monsters.

I have a weakness for men who try to kill me. You're screaming for me to fix you babe.

This could end very badly or very well.

They are charming and it is easy to fall for their lies instead of seeing beyond that mask.

People see them as "dumb" when they are tremendously intelligent. They may not be textbook smart, but they know how to read people, ask the right questions at the right time, they wait for the opportunity and always analyze the situations they find themselves in. People call them "dumb" because it's easier to accept it instead of the complex idea that a character can be smart but a moron at the same time.

They won't be jerks to you, but they'll probably treat the waitress on the date poorly if she fucks up something.

They are the kind of person who is worth being romantically with, but to get there you have to take off their mask and that in itself is a great effort.

They definitely want to be someone's first choice, for once in their lives.

Deep down, all they want is adoration, love and respect.

I want to hold them and tell them that they deserve to be loved without any ties or conditions to that love.

Gale, Emmrich and Lucanis

They are sweet by nature, kind souls despite all the pain they've been through.

Showing kindness is what makes them strong.

Once they fall in love with you, they are lost.

They have enormous insecurities.

They feel the weight of the world on their shoulders all the time.

Great facial and body hair.

They have a strange relationship with death.

They have a huge heart that yearns to love.

I would feel very proud to introduce them as my partner. Like yes this good man loves me, isn't that amazing?

They have self-destructive tendencies.

It makes me blush to hear them laugh because it’s the most precious sound in the world.

I would feel safe with them around.

They would die for you.

Gale and Emmrich

They are professors, and I DEFINITELY don't feel an incredible attraction toward men who can teach me interesting and unknown subjects in depth (of course, that DOESN'T turn me on).

They are the smartest and kindest in this room.

They love to show and share their studies and knowledge with anyone willing to listen.

They are patient.

They know how to listen.

They offer their opinion when you clearly didn't ask for it.

Too many times they want to help or give advice without being asked.

They've had many partners, but they love you a lot, and that willingness to learn how to love again is one of their most beautiful qualities.

In some strange way, they know how to fight when I think they're meant to be treated with care and delicacy or they'll break (just kidding).

Oh, and by the way, both of them are mages—guess it's sexy that you can do a bunch of magical things...

They are nerds even when it comes to sex and I love that. Of course I don't know anything about anatomy, do you want to explain that to me, professor?

Astarion, Illario and Lucanis

They have killed more people than I should feel comfortable with.

"The hands that cradled your face and tilted it upwards to kiss your forehead are soaked in unfathomable quantities of blood." But they cradled me, yes?

They are trained assassins, and that raises some questions about my own morals.

Why do we kill?

What does it feel like to take a life?

What does it feel like to hold the weapon with which you snatch away the last moments of someone who was as human as you and me, who had desires, fears, aspirations, who didn’t want to die?

What kind of superiority do you think you have to do that and see your target as nothing more than a simple cockroach?

How can you sleep at night?

Do those thoughts torment you, or are your dreams sweet as if you hadn’t done anything wrong?

How do you decide that someone deserves to die, my love?

Would you kill me like you've killed so many if, in some way, you believe I deserve it?

Don’t you think the sins you see in others, in those you kill, are also your own?

I LOVE characters with complex morals, it's so sexy. Yes, baby, kill a few more, let's bathe in the blood of our enemies or anyone who opposes us, let's dance with their corpses, I love you.

I know they are flexible.

Astarion and Emmrich

A date in a cemetery? Sure! Wait, why am I excited to do it on a grave? Ugh, I hope this doesn’t awaken another weird fetish in me...

I can't stop thinking about blood and corpses in a way that's too pleasant.

Their sense of fashion is superior.

They always carry a brush with them, in case they get a little messy in the middle of a fight.

I think both of them can sew pretty well.

They have a strange desire to become some kind of superior being, and that could end very well or very badly.

There’s some strange necromancy here.

They love to read, and that's very cute.

Gale, Illario and Lucanis

Their long hair gives me years of life, I want to run my fingers through it, caress it, comb it, pull it, I love it.

Maybe I like their hair because it's like mine, but either way.

I love drawing them.

Thinking about them makes my brain jump in my skull.

I just want to take away all your pain.

They have been emotionally abused but they cannot recognize themselves as victims, because they feel love for their abuser and the abuser loves them in a horrible way, the way only a mother's love could twist you.

DEFINITELY MOMMY ISSUES.

(This becomes more complex thinking about the relationship between Mystra and Gale / Zara and Illario and Caterina but that needs a whole power point presentation).

Gale and Lucanis

Canonically, they are THE wife material.

They are soft and loving once you’re with them.

They know how to cook and do any domestic task you can think of.

The house/camp is always in perfect condition thanks to them.

They look at you like you are the most precious person in the world.

I want to get them pregnant.

They have the saddest, most puppy-like brown eyes that make you love them instantly.

Their face screams for kisses and affection.

I know that between your arms is the warmest place in the world and that I could fall asleep to the sound of your beautiful heart.

I would distract myself by running my hand through their beards and remove any white hairs I found (without them asking me to).

Lucanis wins points for speaking spanish but Gale also wins points because let's remember that he is a professor.

Astarion, Gale, Illario and Emmrich

Absolutely freaks in bed BUT they can be vanilla if you ask them pretty please.

Lucanis

This man is virgin and demisexual like me so I think I would feel extremely comfortable knowing that there is no pressure to do "it" and that he is a man who values ​​company beyond pleasure, calming one of my biggest insecurities.

Not saying the others here can't value company is just... Yeah just sex isn't for me now. And that has ruined many of my relationships. So it gives me more peace of mind to think that my lover can also be a virgin like me and none of us have that expectation.

I'm not saying that the others here would pressure me to do it either. I don't think any of them would. But I know that they can see it as something important in the relationship and there's nothing wrong with that.

Mph-mph.

Gale

He is MY wife.

I have his name tattooed on my arm like branded cattle and I love it.

I have 500 hours on Baldurs and I always start a game again just to hear him breathe.

His relationship with his ex wouldn't create insecurities in me because I already have them so nothing new.

I fear that this man has taken my expectations to a place that cannot be reached by "real" men and I will die alone bUT happy to have met a fictional character written as beautifully as him.

I want to fall asleep while he reads me a book.

He has a cat that talks and has wings, I love her.

I love men who just can't shut the fuck up.

I'm sure his mom would like me and you have no idea how important that is to me HAHAHA my mother-in-laws (except one) always hated me so I would like to feel welcomed in a home for one damn time.

I love him.

I can always like other characters but none as incredible as you, Gale.

[nadas-dirthalen]

I don't think I can ever forgive Solas personally for the way he used Varric's death as a manipulation tool against Rook. As someone who experienced the recent loss of a loved one in my life, realizing what he did to Rook and imagining someone taking away my autonomy to grieve and accept the loss makes me feel so disgust toward him. And to use the image of Varric, someone who was always protective and loyal to his friends? It angers me more, as it feel like such a disrespect act for Solas to do with Varric's image, especially as Solas was arguably once one of his friends. I still question if Solas ever understood what it meant to be alive as a mortal or if he was so caught up in continuing to see himself as some spirit of Wisdom, he denied how he had changed or that life is not as simple/much more vastly different than his once pure Spirit self believed. If he did, would he have treated Varric's death as a tool to use against Rook in the same callous way he did?

Absolutely love Solas' role as Veilguard's antagonist and how it provokes so many emotions and debates on his actions and how to deal with him. Hating his former colleagues is easy, they're batcrap insane and power hungry, but Solas? His actions hurt so much more than anything those two could ever do because we know him in Inquisition; we know, as flawed as he was, he was capable of good, and yet ends up taking actions similar to that of the people he once fought against. But yeah, even though I had the tools for the arguably 'good' ending, there's a reason I chose to fight him and force him into the Veil: He just lost a lot of my sympathy for what he did and I didn't think he deserved a gentle sending off, harsh as it may sound.

Hello anon!! First off, let me say this: you're totally valid to feel as you do about Solas, and even though I don't share your opinion of him, I definitely had a moment of, "Oh god, that was reprehensible."

I think the difference, here, is that my Rook was feeling the feelings you're describing. My Rook would have a hard time wanting to redeem Solas, and only did so for the sake of my Inquisitor.

But the longer I went on after playing Veilguard, the more I realized... that was intentional. That was the point BioWare was making in the third act of Veilguard, and they did it beautifully.

We're supposed to hate him. Let me explain.

We all know what Solas did in the end of Veilguard, and what we find out he's been doing from the very beginning with Varric. What I want to talk about is Solas' conversation with the Inquisitor in Trespasser.

PC: You said that the elven gods went too far. What did they do that made you move against them? Solas: They killed Mythal. (Chuckles.) A crime for which an eternity of torment is the only fitting punishment.

We find out in Veilguard that everything Solas has done, no matter how awful, no matter how violent, has been to bring back the world that Mythal knew before she was killed by the other Evanuris. The one where she was whole. Where Solas, in his mind, had not yet failed her.

Whether or not his actions are good for Thedas (and in most cases, they aren't), Solas does them anyway, consumed by his grief and his need to avenge Mythal. He doesn't think through the creation of the Veil. We see this in a note from Felassan to Solas that is found (I believe) in the Crossroads. He does it anyway, even though even the companions notice that the process hurts him. Badly.

We know, as players, that redeeming Solas leads to him vowing to help soothe the anger of the titans. He works toward his atonement. It is extremely important and powerful that there are many people out there who, knowing this, choose to fight Solas anyway.

Solas also knows, logically, that the world will burn if he takes down the Veil. That doesn't matter to him. What matters is his grief.

We know that, logically, Thedas is worse off if Solas is fought into Fade Jail rather than convinced to go of his own volition by redeeming him. To some players, that doesn't matter. What matters is their grief, like you're saying here.

"An eternity of torment is the only fitting punishment."

In this way, Rook becomes Solas. By choosing to fight him rather than swallowing down their own feelings and pain for the greater good, Rook perpetuates the cycle of violence—for better or worse. And here's the thing: you are justified in this. Your Rook is justified in this. That's why, I think, Solas is written the way he is in Veilguard. BioWare wanted to show that those people who hate Solas have ample reason to do so. They wanted to show what Solas is like with people he doesn't value—and Rook is one such person in act 1 of the story, when he chooses to do blood magic on them.

Redeeming him means Rook taking a chance on Solas' redemption despite the pain he's caused, even if he doesn't deserve it, for the chance at Solas becoming something better. This shows what I think is true of the cycle of violence: that sometimes, it is a deeply uncomfortable and counterintuitive process. But sometimes, that is the only way a cycle of violence is stopped, for better or worse. We acknowledge the pain caused by those who hurt us, but refuse to inflict the same pain upon others, no matter how much pain we feel. It is deeply uncomfortable and counter-intuitive, but sometimes walking away from a situation is all we can do. (and of course I do not believe this is the right course of action in all situations, but Solas is a fictional character, and I believe this angle on his story is reasonable and poignant because it is fiction. real life is infinitely more complex, but Solas' arc isn't meant to be an exact representation of real life: it's to mean something.)

This was the last way, I think, that BioWare drew a strong parallel between Solas and the player. During the DAI quest "In Hushed Whispers," they show us that our seeing the alternate timeline as "not real" mirrors how Solas feels about waking up in present-day Thedas after creating the Veil. Now, they show us that his singular desire for revenge is something that is possible for even us, the players, who knows these are all characters made of pixels, to feel.

I think this is why Epler has said he advocated for an ending where you can fight Solas. Not because he hates Solas (I assure you, he does not), but because it is of tremendous importance to Solas' thematic statement that the player can act on their anger, their pain, toward him—because that is what Solas has been doing to Thedas this entire time.

Thank you for sending me this. I hope you know that I think you're valid for wanting to fight Solas, even though that isn't the ending I choose. It's people like you who help make Solas such a fun, interesting character, and who help highlight just how cool he is to me. You can love him, you can hate him, but I have yet to find a person who's 100% neutral on him. And I love that for us.

[brf-rumortrackinganon]

I don't know about the public opinion, but I wonder if the last pap walk won't backfire on Meghan in the industry. To be clear, I don't fault her for speaking out on the fires (I've seen some hating on her just for it). She's a born and raised californian and has always lived in or closely to the areas burning. Doing so by issuing a statement from her "office" though, using her title, is cringe but not suprising.

However, so far she's the only celebrity I've seen who seems to be doing things with a PR perspective and I don't think it'll go down well. Many more talented, more famous and more respected celebs have lost their homes or at least had to flee their homes, unlike Meghan and Harry who haven't been directly affected so far. Let's not even talk about all the rest of the people working in Hollywood, from the publicists, production companies, marketing agencies, etc and wether it's the first level employee or the CEO. I'm not sure Meghan has realized how many people she might have offended with this.

She already went from hosting Serena, Paris Hilton, Mariah Carey on her podcast, to only having Mindy Kaling and then unknown names in her new show. The celebrities willing to associate with her had already shrunk before that. 2025 is also the year she has to prove she can bring in money to make more deals. But what if her tone deaf actions are actually the nail in the coffin, no matter how well her new show performs.

In the long run, I think this papwalk/visit is just going to fade away. There are so many people in need now who are speaking out - celebrity, humanitarian aid, and normal folks alike - that this will get buried soon enough.

I think a lot of people are looking the other way right now because there's so much devastation and ultimately it won't be a big deal. It's like when Harry and Meghan delivered food that one time during COVID (around Easter?) - they were papped, there was a bunch of PR, but no organic attention and the story died very quickly. I see this being the same kinda thing.

Where it might go differently is if the Sussexes keep popping up and keep doing these papwalks (and it was a papwalk because they took their masks off while inside an active debris field). Then people will notice, then people will start asking questions. If they're legitimately there to help rebuild the community and give support to their neighbors (e.g., serving food in meal lines or doing some Habitat for Humanity-like cleanup), then no problem, keep doing what you're doing. But if they keep showing up for five minute meet-and-greets to hug the locals and pat them on the back saying 'sorrows, sorrows, prayers', with news crews and private security guards in tow? Yep, they'll have problems.

[ruanbaijie]

During the Republican Era, Shen Zhiheng, a member of the Tianjin gentry who happened to be a vampire, offended the Japanese and became the target of an assassination attempt. He was saved by a blind young lady, Mi Lan, and his best friend Situ Weilian. When he went to repay Mi Lan for saving him, he discovered the terrible family situation that Mi Lan was in, and so began to pay more attention to her. Meanwhile, Shen Zhiheng’s plan to take revenge on Li Yingliang, the mastermind behind his assassination, fell short of success thanks to Li Yingliang’s Japanese superior, raising suspicions about his identity. Since then, Li Yingliang and the Japanese were in hot pursuit of Shen Zhiheng, determined to dig out the truth about his secret.

Please do not repost this anywhere else or retranslate it!

MAIN DIRECTORY ☾ READ ON AO3 ☾ PREVIOUS CHAPTER

Li Yingliang was, in fact, worrying too much.

Shen Zhiheng was very busy today, and completely did not have any time to go and pay Li Yingliang a visit, because Situ Weilian had shown up at his doorstep in the middle of the night, making an unexpected comeback.

He familiarly strode through the front door, and saw Mi Lan in the parlour. Mi Lan was standing alone, with her head lowered as she looked at the wound on her knee. And just as he said hello to Mi Lan, Shen Zhiheng also entered, with a bottle of medicine in his hand.

Situ Weilian temporarily did not bother about Shen Zhiheng, first questioning Mi Lan, “Mi Lan, you’re really capable, I saved your life, and not only did you not repay me, you even beat my girlfriend.”

Mi Lan lowered her head, evidently quite guilty, “I’m sorry.”

Shen Zhiheng walked over, handing that bottle of medicine over to her as he made a hand gesture for her to leave. After she lowered her head and left, he finally turned to Situ Weilian, “Why are you here? To collect your promissory note?”

Situ Weilian pointed at the tip of his nose, “Shen Zhiheng, you’ve really got guts as well, beating your biological younger brother so viciously.”

Shen Zhiheng had just washed his face, but had not yet changed into a new set of clothes, and so flecks of blood still dotted the collar of his shirt. Turning around, he walked to the sofa and sat down, saying, “I don’t acknowledge you as my younger brother.”

“After looking for me for so many years, you don’t want me now?”

Shen Zhiheng raised his eyes and gazed at him, “So you do know too, that I’ve been looking for you for so many years.”

Situ Weilian sighed, raising his voice, “Stop going on and on about this!”

Shen Zhiheng shifted his gaze, scoffing.

Situ Weilian frowned and glared at him, annoyance growing in his heart. This older brother of his viewed himself too highly, always thinking of himself as a giant among men. Alas, fate did not favour him, and he was dirtied by the word “vampire”. Actually, in his opinion, this older brother was just so-so, and was pretty much just a wealthy man who was disgruntled and complained all the time. If he had a better brother - or servant - whom he could depend on, then he wouldn’t have to keep shamelessly returning to coax him.

He had come carrying a canvas satchel. He stretched his hand into the satchel, pulling out a large glass bottle that he slowly handed over to Shen Zhiheng. Dark red blood rippled in the glass bottle, and Shen Zhiheng’s eyes flashed, his gaze instantly glued onto that glass bottle.

Situ Weilian laughed to himself, yet his tone was earnest, “A gift for you, you don’t need to pay for it. I just request that you help me out, of course, whether you help or not is up to you, I won’t force you.”

Shen Zhiheng was a little annoyed, not at Situ Weilian, but at himself. He realised that he was becoming increasingly like an animal, and the most urgent thing in his life was eating. This glass of bottle before his eyes was enough to fill his mouth with saliva, and he actually had to focus on keeping his mouth shut to prevent his saliva from flowing out from the corners of his lips.

What an unbecoming sight!

He wanted to kick Situ Weilian out, but, instead, he opened his mouth, mumbling, “Speak.”

“Can you let Li Yingliang go? Don’t hide from me. Although Jin Jingxue has a bad temper, she is not muddleheaded. That she is willing to come and find you proves that she has evidence. I guess, is Li Yingliang locked in that empty warehouse at the pier? Actually, I’m all for killing Li Yingliang or cutting off his flesh, I’m all for it, after all, he has kidnapped me before. But Jin Jingxue simply cares too much about him, and if she doesn’t find him soon, she might fall in love with him.”

Shen Zhiheng swallowed his saliva, “What logic is that?”

Situ Weilian laughed, “I say, have you lived for so many years without once falling in love before?”

Shen Zhiheng did not answer.

“If Li Yingliang is safe and sound, then Jin Jingxue won’t know how much she cares about him. If she doesn’t know, then her heart won’t be moved by him. But now that Li Yingliang is missing, Jin Jingxue worries about him all day long. Over time, she will realise her feelings for him, and as a person who dares to love and dares to hate, once she realises that, it’s unavoidable that she might even seek death for Li Yingliang, and an admirer like me will be completely out of the game.”

“Then aren’t you deceiving yourself?” 

“It’s alright, I don’t mind.”

Shen Zhiheng suddenly smiled, “There’s a simpler solution. You turn her into a vampire, and she naturally won’t leave you. Aren’t you always trying to make me your servant? Second Young Mistress Jin is exceptionally beautiful and is the person you love, with her to wait on you for your entire life, you no longer have to bother me.”

“I said you’ve never fallen in love before, you’re truly inexperienced. I only love her, what do you mean my entire life?”

Shen Zhiheng raised an eyebrow at him, his expression one of surprise.

Situ Weilian felt that Shen Zhiheng’s line of thinking was simply ridiculous. “There are times that I love her, naturally, there will also be times in the future that I don’t love her. If I no longer love her, and yet we still have to be together day and night, wouldn’t that make me uncomfortable, and also make her uncomfortable? Wouldn’t that be harming others and myself? I wouldn’t do such an immoral thing.”

Shen Zhiheng said, “I still thought you had really fallen in love with her…”

“You still don’t understand. I’ve truly fallen in love with her. A true love, stemming from my soul, with a history, with a path, with growth, with maturity, with withering, with an end. True love is not necessarily staying together until the end, for an entire lifetime. To follow one’s heart and to treat each other with sincerity, that, is true love. Love is not something that can be measured with time.”

Shen Zhiheng nodded, “Thank you for your teachings.”

“Ultimately, you’re still unable to escape from the worldliness of humans, unlike me, pure and innocent.”

Shen Zhiheng continued nodding, “So you’re pure and innocent, pardon, I’ve disrespected you.”

Situ Weilian extended his arm, forcefully pulling out the rubber stopper at the mouth of the glass bottle. “Then are you willing to help me and let Li Yingliang go or not?”

The cold scent of blood wafted out, making Shen Zhiheng’s nostrils quiver. After improvising for so many days, he had yet to have a full meal. Animal blood always made him feel dirty, besides, even if it was dirty fresh blood, he still had to share some of it with Mi Lan. His head had yet to make up its mind, but his hand had already extended forward.

His palm wrapped around both the bottle and Situ Weilian’s hand, and with a light shining in his gaze, he said in a trembling voice, “Let go.”

Situ Weilian stumbled forward, as his hand and the glass bottle were raised up together by Shen Zhiheng to his lips. Shen Zhiheng raised his head, drinking quickly and in large, audible gulps. Watching him, Situ Weilian found it a little funny. Shen Zhiheng was an addict, while he was an opium merchant. How could Shen Zhiheng not realise such an obvious reality?

When Shen Zhiheng finished the glass bottle, he drew his hand back, patting the canvas satchel beside him, “There’s another one, you can put it in your refrigerator and drink it slowly. You’ll let Li Yingliang go tomorrow, okay?”

Shen Zhiheng sprawled onto the sofa, his eyes half shut. “Mm.”

Situ Weilian sent him a British army salute. “Thank you.”

Shen Zhiheng spat out a sigh, “Get lost.”

Shen Zhiheng was not a man of his word; he did not leave the house at all the next day. Meanwhile, neither did Situ Weilian come over again to create more trouble for him. In the afternoon, Situ Weilian brought a huge bag of medicine to visit Jin Jingxue, however, the main doors of the Jin mansion were shut tight, and a maidservant told him from behind the gate that the second young mistress had rushed to board a train that morning to return to her family home in Chahar [1] .

Upon hearing this, Situ Weilian felt as if he had been dropped into an ice cellar. When he asked the maidservant for the address of the Jin family home, that maidservant shook her head, replying “I don’t know” to all of his questions.

Situ Weilian was heartbroken, disappearing from then on. He no longer went to the hospital nor cared about anything else, and no one looked for him.

Shen Zhiheng spent the next two weeks in peace, safe and sound in his home, but war was raging in the city outside. The citizens, while angry and anxious on one hand, always thought that the flames of war would not burn into the bustling city on the other. Mi Lan listened to the radio broadcast daily and knew the matters of the war like the back of her hand, but she also always felt that the war was something faraway, and had nothing to do with her bright and shining world. Weren’t the restaurants and foreign firms in the English and French concession zones still open for business as usual? Weren’t people coming and going on the little street behind the Shen mansion as usual?

However, early one morning, she heard a piece of bad news: the Japanese army had started to attack Beiping [2] .

She wanted to tell Shen Zhiheng this piece of news, and Shen Zhiheng so happened to return home from outside.

As the warehouse rental was about to expire, he had left the house at dawn, intending to take care of Li Yingliang’s body. He really did not want to go, he didn’t know how to describe the feelings he had for this person. In any case, he neither wanted to see him alive, nor did he want to see him dead. This man was diabolical and harboured a deep hatred, and it seemed as if he was always bothered by affairs that filled his entire body with heart-wrenching pain. Whenever Shen Zhiheng thought of him, he would frown as if he was suffering in silence. If he was not even willing to think of him, what more see him? And so he kept on dragging it, and upon seeing the calendar this morning, he had realised that he could no longer drag it on, and had bitten the bullet and headed to the warehouse. Li Yingliang had been dead for so long, and his body should long have gone smelly; how was he supposed to take care of a heap of rotten meat? Even thinking about it had made his head hurt.

However, when he had held his breath and entered the warehouse, he had realised that Li Yingliang had long escaped.

He had stared at the small hole at the base of the wall, unable to imagine how Li Yingliang had squeezed out. This menace had quite the ability, and was even more capable than a typical rat at digging holes. If he had known earlier, he should have taken care of him on the spot. However, time cannot flow backwards, and since he had already escaped, Shen Zhiheng had no other choice.

As the saying went, “disasters live for thousands of years”; this was really accurate.

As if nothing had happened, he had locked the main gate and left the warehouse, returning home in his car. On the way, he had seen large numbers of citizens dragging their family and belongings with them as they headed for the concession zone.

It was only when he had entered the house and listened to Mi Lan’s report, when he became a little nervous, “The concession zone should be safe. Is there still rice in the kitchen?”

Mi Lan immediately jumped to check on the rice.

This panic lasted until the evening, when news came from the outside, that the Japanese army was about to send planes to bomb Tianjin. Once bombing really started, since bombs did not kill discriminately, who cared whether they were in the concession zone or not? So, all the lights in the surrounding area were turned off, and every house only dared to turn on a small dim lamp to light up the darkness. And right at this moment when everyone was panicky, Situ Weilian, who had disappeared for half a month, returned. 

Holding his canvas satchel, he boldly told Shen Zhiheng, “I’m here to seek refuge.”

Shen Zhiheng was quite surprised, “I was still under the impression that at a moment like this, you would be accompanying Jin Jingxue.”

Upon hearing this, Situ Weilian looked like he was about to cry. “Jingxue has returned to her family home and has gone back for a while. When she left, she didn’t inform me at all, she definitely doesn’t want me anymore! Da-ge, can you help me look for her? Without her, I can’t continue living, I’m even thinking of killing myself.”

Shen Zhiheng replied, “Our country is in crisis, and I don’t even have the time to take care of myself, how will I have any strength left to help you find your girlfriend?”

“What do you mean our country is in crisis, we’re not even human, what does the country in crisis have got to do with us?”

“I am human, so is Mi Lan.”

“Stubborn bastard [3] ,” Situ Weilian mumbled, but could not think of any other idea for the time being. Now, the outside was in chaos, and he had neither power nor connections; how could he look for Jin Jingxue all by himself?

Therefore, he realised that he truly still could not be apart from Shen Zhiheng. He only wanted to indulge as much as he could, only wanted to play and love to his heart’s content. As for every single matter apart from this, these were detestable, worldly affairs that he should leave to Shen Zhiheng to take care of.

The three of them made do in the parlour for a night.

Situ Weilian missed Jin Jingxue terribly and did not sleep for the entire night; Shen Zhiheng feared terribly that the Japanese army would bomb Tianjin and did not sleep for the entire night; Mi Lan hugged her knees and curled up in one corner of the sofa, terribly calm, and although she too did not sleep for the entire night, this was because she was full of energy and simply not sleepy.

At the same time, two other people who did not sleep were Jin Jingxue and Li Yingliang.

Jin Jingxue had claimed half a month ago that she was going home and had given her servants leave, only leaving behind her two closest maidservants. When everyone else had left, she had told the two maidservants the truth: Young Master Liang had offended a powerful figure, and had come to her mansion last night to seek refuge. In order to protect Young Master Liang, they had to make the house seem as if it had no master for the next few days, in case his enemies chased him all the way there.

And then, she had closed and locked up her door, tending to her wounds and recuperating together with Li Yingliang. Li Yingliang had been mentally deranged, startled by every little thing, for the first few days, and it was only after nearly a week, when he had been finally able to sleep deeply at night. And another week later, he had pretty much regained the reason and appearance of a person.

Just like any normal person, he was also worried about the bombs, and would let Jin Jingxue and the two maidservants sleep at night, while he stayed up to keep watch with a small lamp. Jin Jingxue did not sleep, sitting in a corner as she knitted a sweater with two long bamboo needles. Everything she did in her life was for fun, and even this sweater was knitted perfunctorily.

Sitting by the desk, Li Yingliang folded a piece of cardboard into a lampshade, and he placed it over the lightbulb. 

Then, he said to Jin Jingxue who was beside the table, “Stop knitting, it’s too dark. Your eyes will get tired.”

Jin Jingxue looked at him in surprise. He was sitting with his waist and back ramrod straight, and when the light shone up at him from below, it strongly accentuated his face. His dark eyebrows were slanted diagonally and the corners of his eyes lifted up along the same path, like a famous actor in a photograph.

After looking at him, she displayed that small product in her hands, “Make a guess, what am I knitting?”

“I don’t know.”

“I don’t know either. If I’m lazy, it’s a scarf. If I’m diligent, perhaps it will become a sweater. Whether it’s a scarf or a sweater, it will depend on your luck.”

Li Yingliang looked at her. “It’s for me?”

She raised her thin eyebrows, continuing to knit. “It’s for the dog.”

Li Yingliang extended his arm and gently took her needle and thread. “Stop knitting, it’s too troublesome. If I want to wear one, I’ll just buy a ready-made one.”

Jin Jingxue asked, “Are you really concerned about me? Or do you not want to owe me a favour? If it’s for the former, I thank you. If it’s the latter, then if you’re so capable, don’t stay in my house, you can leave now.”

Li Yingliang arranged the bamboo needles and thread for a while, and then he looked at the lamp and sighed, “Of course I can’t stay here forever.”

“Then where do you want to go? Leave, I won’t make you stay.”

Li Yingliang suddenly asked, “Second Young Mistress, you said you’ve seen Yokoyama Akira in my house before, and that he seemed to be sympathetic to me?”

“Ah? You aren’t thinking of defecting to the Japanese devils again, are you? They’re even already opening fire on us, and yet you still want to continue being a Chinese traitor? Besides, you caused those secret documents or whatever to be leaked onto the newspapers, will they spare you? If you go to see the Japanese, isn’t that the same as courting death?”

“Yokoyama Akira and I have the same interests. He won’t kill me easily.”

“Forget it! Follow me home after a few days, you’re always welcome there.”

Li Yingliang shook his head, “Escaping is useless. You truly don’t know how powerful the Japanese are. Sooner or later, they will occupy the whole China, and no matter where you run to, the result will be the same. In any case, if we’re going to be slaves of a defeated nation anyway, I might as well just strike first. Besides, I’ve already sold so many years of my life for the Japanese and Yokoyama Akira also appreciates me a lot, I have a foundation. As long as Yokoyama Akira is willing to give me a chance, I can immediately make a comeback.”

“Why do you want to make a comeback? If you want money, I can give it to you. You don’t have to make a comeback!”

“It’s not a matter of money, I want power.” He lowered his voice, “I must make a comeback, if not, the Japanese want to kill me, Shen Zhiheng wants to kill me, I can’t hide together with you forever.”

Jin Jingxue completely could not understand Li Yingliang’s thinking, and was also too lazy to argue with him. Picking up her tools, she continued knitting, but was unable to knit stably, as the sound of gunfire still echoed in the distance from time to time, causing her to be terror-stricken.

After that night, Beiping fell, and the Japanese warplanes started bombing Tianjin [4] .

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

A province of the Republic of China that is now part of Inner Mongolia, Hebei, and Beijing.

This puts the date at around 25 July 1937.

The phrase used here is 死鸭子嘴硬 (sǐ yā zi zuǐ yìng) which can be literally translated as “dead duck, hard mouth”, which figuratively refers to someone being very stubborn.

According to this Wikipedia page (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Battle_of_Beiping%E2%80%93Tianjin), the Japanese actually started attacking Tianjin on 29 July at dawn, and Tianjin fell to the Japanese the night of 30 July. Meanwhile, Beiping (i.e. Beijing) was only fully captured by the Japanese on 8 August. I’m not sure if this is an intentional twist of events on the author’s part to fit the narrative, if it really happened this way, or if I interpreted wrongly (heh).

[rootspiral]

hello, i come bearing questions again! what do you think it was about agatha that made her the one person rio fell in love with? i keep thinking about it, because rio is this endlessly wise, patient entity and agatha is essentially a child. part of me feels like for a being as old as rio, it’s so curious that she’d fall for someone who is her opposite in so many ways. i understand the whole cliche about opposites attracting but let’s be real, there’s a limit to that LOL. on the other hand, i can see how agatha’s genuine love for life and even her immaturity would be, in some ways, refreshing to rio. i also wonder how rio would feel about agatha’s serial killing. ep 4 hints at them having been ‘business associates’ at some point, and i imagine that they might have fallen in love during that period. however, similarly as she feels when agatha tries to cheat death, would rio feel like she was being violated as agatha maybe started killing too much and perhaps upsetting the sacred balance in the other direction? anyways, i have many thoughts and no actual conclusions - do you have any opinions on what about agatha would make rio fall in love and what rio might not have enjoyed about her, especially in the beginning? this feels like a particularly difficult question considering those two because i i imagine rio might actually fall deeper in love because of the things that peeved her lmao i love that weirdo

IMO in order for Rio to fall in love with Agatha three unusual things had to happen:

Proximity. Agatha had to constantly be in Rio's way, because of all the killing. Now I don't know if Rio would be neutral about a serial killer's activity (does it break balance, if it's only humans killing each other? Consider that wars kill so many more.) As far as we know she could be neutral, she could be hostile, she could even be encouraging, we can only speculate at this point. What's certain though is that Rio's and Agatha's paths crossed a lot, and that had to be an unusual experience for a being that only meets most people only once, when she reaps their soul.

Uniqueness. Other people are bound to act in very predictable ways when meeting Rio, they'd try to run, beg or fight. Knowing Agatha, I'm 100% sure that she went the opposite route and tried to make friends. Mind you it would have been all lies and manipulation and ulterior motives at first, Agatha would have been both terrified and fascinated by Rio, and she'd have absolutely wanted to control the situation and gain the upper hand and find out if she could steal Rio's powers. Rio would've seen through it all and still tolerated and even enjoyed Agatha's antics for the novelty of it.

Intimacy. It would have taken some time for sure, but proximity (quality time spent together) and uniqueness (Agatha being the only person who ever wanted to be around Rio, and Rio being the only person who can never kill or be killed by Agatha) had to bring them to trust each other and open up to each other, and eventually it all came together and evolved into feelings. Rio would have gotten to know the real Agatha behind all the posturing, and how can you not love that Agatha? Simply put: they became each other's first real, important, intimate relationship, and that has a way to imprint on a person. Of course if it's only two people against the whole world that becomes codependent and toxic real fast, and I think Rio knew it but still couldn't help herself or tear herself away from Agatha.

[martianmeerkat]

Both Jon and Catelyn were betrayed. Catelyn was already grieving many losses, and as far as she knew, the last of her family had just been killed in front of her. Not to mention, she was betrayed by people she already did not trust. The only thing on her mind was vengeance.

Jon was betrayed, yes, and that will have a big impact on his character. But we also know Bowen Marsh didn't hate Jon. He didn't even want Jon dead originally. He was more worried with all the changes being made that the Watch would be no longer. Do I think Jon will show mercy? No. But I would also like to point out that unlike Catelyn, Jon is a warg. He has a second life in Ghost before he will be brought back to his body. What that means and how that will happen I cannot say. But this also means that the influence death has over him will look different. There will still be a drastic change, and it most likely won't be pretty, but I don't think it will be vengeance that he seeks.

As for Gilly, because I knew it was going to be brought up at some point. It's a take many people love to point out to justify hating Jon. He didn't sell anyone. He made a choice in an attempt to save a baby's life. He feared that Melissandre would take the life of Dalla's child for the "King's blood." He didn't know she knew of his plan until after it had already been done. But he also didn't want a child to die. He didn't believe any child deserved to die. In fact, we see in his contemplation of taking up Stannis on his offer, that Jon imagines fostering both children at Winterfell. Raising them together as brothers, like he and Robb were. He even directly states like him and Robb. He did not make that decision lightly, nor did he only see it as a task to complete. He saw those babies as people, with lives that they deserved the chance to live.

He also didn't like the idea of separating a child from his mother since he himself grew up without one. If he had believed there to be another way, or if he had been able to trust that Melissandre would not take the life of an infant, he wouldn't have made that decision. You could make the argument that "why didn't he let Gilly take both children then?" Well, to that, I answer that he didn't know Melissandre knew of his plans. He was juggling multiple factions that didn't hold high opinions of one another, and if one faction got too angry, it could quickly devolve into violence. Something that absolutely would cause irreparable damage. Pissing off Stannis' witch who seems to hold a great deal of influence over the King's men is not an ideal thing to do. If she wanted a dead baby, especially that of a wildling prince, Stannis would give her a dead baby.

Historical presidence does place Jon politically above Dany in terms of heir placement. But I think its also prudent to ask the question of if Jon would even be able to have kids after coming back from the dead. He will be alive solely through magic, and while that can do many things, risking the heir to the seven kingdoms being a monster? Jon is already othered in every aspect of his life. And we see how people react to things that are "other." It's absolutely terrifying.

Add to this the fact that the seven kingdoms are in such a state of disarray, especially with winter on its way, tens of thousands dead, more still dying, wars being raged left and right, stability is what will be valued over anything else. Especially considering the fact that the rest of the Seven Kingdoms don't know about the threat of the others. In fact, most of the Watch and the Baratheon men don't even know about the threat that's right around the corner from them.

With all that being said, the biggest threat to Dany politically won't be Jon-Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, northern bastard, sometimes refered to as a turn cloak and wildling in his own right. It will be Aegon. Whether he's the real Aegon, whether he's a blackfyre, or whether he's just a kid from fleabottom that happened to have the Valyrian look and made an easy pawn. The Dance, the Blackfyre Rebellions, even Robert's Rebellion; hell, even the War of the Five Kings, they all set the presidence that you don't really need a claim for people to follow you, you only need to look and act the part. A mummer's show if you will.

We know the Lannisters currently hold the throne with the help of the Tyrells. But the Tyrells also have plans of their own that are brewing. They won't be staying loyal to the lions. That is practically for certain since it's evident that after the death of Tywin, the nobles don't quite trust Cersei, with good reason. Lady Stoneheart is tearing through the Riverlands, Littlefinger has got his hands all up in Vale business, Dorne has its principality divided, and even the North has political upheaval since Lord Manderly is serving Lord Frey his sons in meat pies.

The show may have made a mess of interpretations for the characters, especially by fault of twisting and combining narratives or flat out getting rid of some and forming others out of thin air, but the political climate of the seven kingdoms does not serve Jon just the same as it does not serve Dany. At the very least, what Dany has over Jon is that Aegon is willing to treat with her. But if there is to be a dance, it will be between the silver haired dragons, not the one hiding in the snow.

In all fairness, I will concede that there will likely be speculation of legitimacy, especially if it becomes public knowledge that Robb legitimized Jon as a Stark before his death. The Seven Kingdoms won't care if Rhaegar and Lyanna were married, I dont know why they did that in the show. There's historical precedence that Valyrians take multiple spouses, but there's even more historical precedence among nobility that the name must live on. Preferably the blood too, but that isn't always the case either, although that's moreso for lesser houses. It won't matter if Jon is true born or bastard so long as Aegon is running around, since he would be preferable to both. But it will matter that Jon is legitimized as a Stark.

Note: Aegon has Tyrion as an advisor, who we know is a friend to Jon. Tyrion, upon finding out the truth of Jon's parentage, might encourage Aegon to offer the same thing Stannis once offered Jon. Winterfell. To be Warden of the North and subservient to the Iron Throne. Something that when made known will likely be a point of contention. Especially considering that anyone who is on Aegon's side who might not be favorable to the North would believe Jon to be a threat to Aegon.

Let me say that again, they would consider Jon a threat to Aegon. Not a threat to Dany, but to Aegon. Which will be important because he's also the closest to the Iron Throne right now, aside from Cersei, and already been convinced by Tyrion to attack first and treat with Dany later. Which will in it of itself cause problems with Dany possibly obtaining support to take the throne. Though we do know there are a couple fleets heading her direction hoping to gain her favor.

So if we're going to talk political situations, let's not forget the context in which their situations reside. Because it's a hell of a lot more complicated than woman vs bastard.

Jon Snow’s misogyny toward feminine women who brush their hair and wait for knights to rescue them vs. Daenerys being feminine and wanting a man to carry her off is another clear indication of how incompatible Jon is for her:

In her dream they had been man and wife, simple folk who lived a simple life in a tall stone house with a red door. — ADWD, Daenerys II

Starlight and seafoam, Dany thought, a wisp of silk that leaves my left breast bare for Daario’s delight. Oh, and flowers for my hair. —Daenerys IV, ADWD

In my Seven Kingdoms, knights go on quests to prove themselves worthy of the maiden that they love. — ADWD, Daenerys IV

How beautiful, the queen tried to tell herself, but inside her was some foolish little girl who could not help but look about for Daario. If he loved you, he would come and carry you off at swordpoint, as Rhaegar carried off his northern girl, the girl in her insisted, but the queen knew that was folly. — ADWD, Daenerys VII

Another proof that Snowstorm shippers just see Daenerys as a self insert and don’t really know, like, or enjoy her character. Daenerys is NOT a warrior woman. She’s never had the privilege of being militarily or martially trained or given weapons to duel with. She likes brushing her hair and keeping it clean and bathing, things Jon seems to take issue with women doing.

Daenerys is willowy and tiny in stature as well, not hardened and tall. Yet more proof she isn’t Jon’s type and is exactly the type of feminine woman Jon reviles and is repeatedly derisive and misogynistic toward in his POV.

And I hate Jon’s line because Daenerys is a vulnerable and young orphan girl who suffered severe abuse from her brother. She wants to be rescued and protected. I don’t care about what Jon wants, except when it conflicts with what Daenerys wants.

This is an actually pretty good point to consider. Has there actually been some evidence that Jon would "make an exception" towards Dany or otherwise value ttis aspect to her for jonerys/snowstorm fans?

[lesbiansanemi]

If no one ever hears from me again it’s because I finally decided to get into gundam and I died in one of the five billion timelines

[broke-on-books]

☕

The live action Scooby-Doo movies?

I did not see this ask until RIGHT now (first time on desktop since crab day, second time since Nov 5 2020 [which was DOUBLY experience since I got my phone taken the same day]) so I'm going to assume this ask got eaten on mobile because tumblr, HOWEVER you poked a bear with this ask anon (as I'm sure you knew when asking) SO without further ado: my Scooby Doo live action opinions

So when you say 'live action Scooby-Doo movies' I'm assuming you're talking about the James Gunn films, starting with Scooby-Doo (2002) followed by Scooby-Doo 2: Monsters Unleashed, just due to like, generally popularity and also the fact that I have actually seen those films. However shoot another ask if you wanted me to include Curse of the Lake Monster in this (because I will if anyone cares and turn this into a live-action scooby dissertation, i'd just need to like. watch the movie first) But anyways where I'm going with this is that this post is about the Gunn movies aka the ones with SMG, Freddie Prinze Jr., Linda Cardellini, and ofc our #1 man, Matthew Lilliard.

Okay so my take on these movies is... complicated. I wouldn't say it's as complicated as my feelings towards SDMI, because I watched the live actions way less as a kid and generally care less about them, but still no matter how much shit I throw at these two movies there are parts that I generally like (even love) that stops me from totally condemning them wholesale. Like the fact that these movies are FUNNY! There's so many moments from this duology that are just beyond iconic "like, that's one of my favorite names!" the whole thing with Scooby in the dress at the airport, ET. CETERA (like I can go on!)

The Gunn movies are genuinely SO fun and I can 100% see and understand how they've stood so well in the public view as a representation of Scooby. HOWEVER, this is where you start to see my problems with them. For the general American, (because that is the audience I'm familiar with) ESPECIALLY millennials and younger, who happen to make up the majority of both people on this site AND people I talk about Scooby with in real life, these movies, and the elements they introduced as "quintessential scooby tropes" are the base of their understanding of the Scooby franchise, along with likely some miscellaneous WAY episodes and maybe SDMI.

Which is where I get pissed off. In the pushing of the narrative of "breaking away" from the Scooby norm, Gunn basically invents (aka totally makes up) an idea of what classic era Scooby was like, cementing an idea of classic Scooby into the public mind that is totally disingenuous and just straight up false. For example, in attempting to portray Daphne as having taken strides to be seen more seriously in solving mysteries and defending herself, it pushes the narrative that in the classic era she WASN'T taken seriously, and only existed as a damsel-in-distress prop of a character, which is just not true??? Like yes, Daphne is clumsy, that's a part of her character, and her friends (because, fun fact, the gang ARE friends) joke about it sometimes because that's what friends DO. Framing that in some kind of sexist "that's all she does" lens is just total bull, especially as gang members fall into secret passageways/get lost etc. in WAY ALL THE DAMN TIME because that's how the plot functions! Like are we calling Velma ditzy for losing her glasses every other episode? Of course not, and Fred falls into passageways all the time, not to MENTION Shaggy and Scooby and all they get up to. Also one last thing on the topic of Daphne, like this idea of her mystery solving skills not being respected by the gang is just so supremely bullshit it amazes me sometimes, especially when she was the LEADER (or leader adjacent) through pretty much all of her appearances in the 1980s [Not that James Gunn could look at '80s era Scooby without spitting on it, but I digress]

AND THIS IS JUST DAPHNE! Like the perceptions pushed towards Fred (and Velma, but mostly Fred) through these movies are just as bad! Like okay, with Fred---In these movies Fred is just an asshole. I hate Gunn Movies!Fred. I mean yeah he can be funny but it's almost always so mean! Almost nothing makes me madder than a mean Fred by the way. If he's putting other gang members down (even halfway, like with his whole "dorky chicks like you turn me on too" line, which... ew) then to me something has gone very, very, VERY, wrong in your basic understanding of Frederick Herman Jones as a character. Like he's the cheerleader! He puts himself in between his friends and danger! He loves nets, and traps, and Elvis impressions, and wrestling, and the trapeze, and cars, and most of all he LOVES sharing the things he loves with his friends! (Sometimes to a bit of an extreme. No one wants to hear about your net facts, Fred) And the live action movies just don't understand that at all. And I know there's maybe something to say I suppose in that some of those aspects of his characterization hadn't been "established yet" by the time "Scooby-Doo" came out in 2002. But it's there if you look. For Fred Jones, being the leader means being the caretaker, (he's the Mom friend what can I say) and any version where he's cruel and arrogant and just DOESN'T CARE about his friends in the way he's shown to in the Gunn movies is just so far from Fred to me it's not even funny. And what makes it even worse for me is that this (or at least something similar) is the idea of Fred that has really spread to the popular culture. Just the "leader", the jock that makes the rules, the one that [insert X adaptation here] finally gave a personality and made interesting (something that has been said more times than I can count for pretty much every gang member, save Shaggy and Scooby).

And I haven't even touched on Velma, and how they gave her a bit of a early 2000s smart superiority girl complex against Daphne, plus the whole makeover thing and etc. etc. The Gunn Movies are pretty much what would happen if you took someone who hadn't seen Scooby since they were 7 years old (and honestly had a pretty negative outlook against it then) and tried to "fix" it, only his memory was so bad he just made up problems (and threw in a good helping of early 2000s style sexism with it) convincing pretty much the entirety of the popular culture that said problems exist and that Gunn was absolutely brilliant for fixing them (and then bringing up said "problems" whenever anyone wants to talk about Scooby) and this entire rant has been without even fucking MENTIONING what is probably the reason you, anonymous tumblr user sent this ask in the first place, to I, Swishy "Scrappy Doo Redemption Arc" Broke-on-books (dot tumblr dot com), which is his HIGHLY SUCESSFUL and utterly sadistic character assassination of my number one man, Scrappy Doo.

And I am going to try my damnedest here not to get totally into my highly passionate opinions over what James Gunn did to Scrappy in the first of his Scooby movies and how thoroughly it has pissed me the fuck off because I have been writing this post for over an hour now and if we start to really get into my feelings on this topic it will certainly be a couple of hours more but like. That Fucking Bitch. I give James Gunn personally a solid eighty-five percent of the blame for making my life as a Scrappy Doo fan UTTERLY unbearable with this stupid fucking movie alone, and just his Scrappy crimes would honestly be enough for me to say that I hate this movie, not even considering the numerous Scooby crimes I've been talking about here for the past million paragraphs, but the part about this movie that makes me the MOST mad the most pissed off is that it's actually a good fucking movie. James Gunn wrote two hilarious and entertaining movies that have become beloved in the popular culture for their successes in that arena, while at the same time pissing all over the core themes and messages of the franchise of which it was based, that of friendship.

TLDR; The Live Action Scooby Doo movies (written by James Gunn) are highly entertaining and fun pieces of media to watch, and are widely loved by the general public and looked at with fondness and nostalgia because of that. However, as a hardcore Scooby Doo fan (writing that phrase sounds so ridiculous but oh well) the existence of these movies and their impact on the popular culture can be extremely frustrating (despite any personal nostalgia said fan may have) due to their spreading of a misinformed picture of what "typical Scooby Doo" looks like. This picture is especially frustrating due to the fabrication or exaggeration of problems present in classic Scooby (such as sexism in regards to the girls), as well as giving more ammunition to other problems in Scooby fandom (such as oversexualization, and sexualization in general, which no one wants to see in regards to their children's cartoons, like HONESTLY.) Discussions of sexism and sexualization in Scooby (both of which ARE present and are issues, although not at their worst in WAY) can often lead to an overlooking of the issues that are very present and clear in WAY and have continued since then with far too little resistance (I'm 100% talking about the racism here) HOWEVER that topic deserves at least a dozen posts of its own that I am no way informed or qualified enough to even begin to think about writing. The Gunn Movies are frustrating to many longtime Scooby fans because of these reasons, but for me, and fellow Scrappy Doo fans there is also the added aspect of the demonization of Scrappy Doo in the live action movies and the affects that has had on the popular culture as well, making it uniquely inhospitable to like or enjoy the character of Scrappy. End post.

[theheadlessgroom]

@beatingheart-bride

"The first tree..."

At that moment, it felt as if not one, but two memories had been awoken in him, one from the past, one from...the present? The future? Either way, it was two different times, and yet, the motions, the feelings...they were the same.

He recalled being very, very young...how young, he couldn't say, but young enough to be carried by his father, who brought him to an old tree outside of town, and he remembered reaching his tiny hand out to trace the carved shamrock, a shamrock his father put there when he stopped upon arriving in New Orleans for the very first time-a habit he'd gotten into since leaving the Emerald Isle, leaving shamrocks everywhere he stopped, having no idea Louisiana would be where he'd put down roots.

More than once, it seemed, for another memory came just as quickly, almost identical to the one that came before...it was him as a child with his father, tracing that shamrock carved into the trunk, but his father confessed, he remembered, that he didn't put the shamrock there. Someone else did.

Or so he thought.

"The graves..." Randall murmured, digging further into his memories, faded and blurred though they were. "There were...three graves, I remember, but...we didn't know the names of who was buried there, or why they weren't at the cemetery...

Oh my God," he gasped hoarsely, the color draining from his face as he looked to Emily, eyes wide and unblinking.

"Was...was that me, in the ground? Did I...did I walk over my own grave?"

[helenofsparta2]

Okay, first of all, this is nothing personal, just a difference in opinion, but because Percy Jackson is currently my hyper fixation, I can't help but try to set a few things right when i encounter posts like this.

This is going to be a longer post, and I’m probably going to repeat myself a lot from some of my earlier ones, but I really don’t care.

 I am so sick and tired of people in this fandom misrepresenting or misremembering the relationship Nico and Percy actually had in PJO.  Because if you actually read the books, it’s so obvious, that Percy always did everything in his power to protect Nico, and that he was the person who cared for him the most out of everyone else.

First to tackle the points mentioned above:  

“I just knew that Percy Jackson was the one who was freaked out by him when he learned he was the son of Hades”

Percy did not get freaked out, simply because Nico being the son of Hades creeped him out. He got freaked out, because Nico being the son of Hades meant that he could possibly be the hero of the prophecy. Because he feared what the gods and Kronos might do to him, once they found out:

We have to tell Chiron," Annabeth said, out of breath. "No," I said. She and Grover both stared at me. "Um," Grover said nervously, "what do you mean… no? I was still trying to figure out why I'd said that, but the words spilled out of me. "We can't let anyone know. I don't think anyone realizes that Nico is a—" "A son of Hades," Annabeth said. "Percy, do you have any idea how serious this is? (...) I don't think Nico understands who he is. But we can't go telling anyone. Not even Chiron. If the Olympians find out—"(The Titan’s curse, chapter 20)

“who got annoyed internally when young Nico asked too many questions”

Are we really blaming Percy now because he felt annoyed by a ten-year-old asking him a bunch of questions? A feeling, he only had internally, and never acted upon?  

Even, if we ignore how ridiculous that would be, it’s important to remember, that Percy only started to get annoyed when Nico asked him why Annabeth didn’t know better than to fall of a cliff. His best friend who had just gotten kidnapped by the titan army. Before that he was genuinely nice to Nico. He complimented his mythomagic card collection, showed him his sword and answered all his other questions, despite the fact that he was emotionally devestated worried sick about Annabeth, and blamed himself for her fate.

"Big collection," I said. Nico grinned. "I've got almost all of them, plus their holographic cards! Well, except for a few really rare ones." "You've been playing this game a long time?" "Just this year (…) "Hey, can I see that sword you were using?" I showed him Riptide, and explained how it turned from a pen into a sword just by uncapping it. "Cool! Does it ever run out of ink?" "Um, well, I don't actually write with it." "Are you really the son of Poseidon?" "Well, yeah." "Can you surf really well, then?" I looked at Grover, who was trying hard not to laugh. "Jeez, Nico," I said. "I've never really tried." (Titan’s curse, chapter 3)

“who broke his promise to keep his sister safe”

I think I’m going to have to repeat this sentence for the rest of my life:

Percy never promised Nico that he would keep Bianca 100% safe.

He explicitly warned Nico that every quest is dangerous, and that no one could guarantee anyone’s survival. He only promised to do his best. Which he did.

(He shoulders sagged. He shifted from foot to foot. "Maybe you're right. But, but you can go for me." "Say what?" "You can turn invisible. You can go!" "The Hunters don't like boys," I reminded him. "If they find out—" "Don't let them find out. Follow them invisibly. Keep an eye on my sister! You have to. Please?" "Nico—" "You're planning to go anyway, aren't you?" I wanted to say no. But he looked me in the eyes, and I somehow couldn't lie to him. "Yeah," I said. "I have to find Annabeth. I have to help, even if they don't want me to." "I won't tell on you," he said. "But you have to promise to keep my sister safe." "I… that's a big thing to promise, Nico, on a trip like this. Besides, she's got Zoe, Grover, and Thalia—" "Promise," he insisted. "I'll do my best. I promise that." (Titan’s curse, chapter 8)

“Percy Jackson was horrible to Nico”

To tackle this relatively broad subject, here’s a list of all the things Percy did for Nico in PJO:  

He was the only one to remind Bianca to think about Nico before joining the hunters.   

(Anger flashed in Zoe's eyes. "That is not thy concern, boy. The point is Bianca may join if she wishes. It is her choice." "Bianca, this is crazy," I said. "What about your brother? Nico can't be a Hunter."( Titan’s Curse, chapter 3)

He made sure, Nico didn’t risk his life by following Bianca on her quest

 ("And now you're thinking about following them on the quest," I guessed. "How did you know that?" "Because if it was my sister, I'd probably be thinking the same thing. But you can't." He looked defiant. "Because I'm too young?" "Because they won't let you. They'll catch you and send you back here. And… yeah, because you're too young. You remember the manticore? There will be lots more like that. More dangerous. Some of the heroes will die." He shoulders sagged. He shifted from foot to foot. "Maybe you're right. (Titan’s curse, chapter 8))

He wanted to risk his own life, so Nico could escape from the skeletons

(I drew my sword and Nico gasped. I whirled and found myself facing four skeleton warriors. They grinned fleshless grins and advanced with swords drawn. I wasn't sure how they'd made it inside the camp, but it didn't matter. I'd never get help in time. "You're trying to kill me!" Nico screamed. "You brought these… these things?" "No! I mean, yes, they followed me, but no! Nico, run. They can't be destroyed." "I don't trust you!" The first skeleton charged. I knocked aside its blade, but the other three kept coming. I sliced one in half, but immediately it began to knit back together. I knocked another's head off but it just kept fighting. "Run, Nico!" I yelled. (Titan’s Curse, Chapter 20)

He searched the woods in the dark for hours after Nico disappeared

 (Annabeth and Grover helped me search the woods for hours, but there was no sign of Nico di Angelo.(Titan’s Curse, Chapter 20))

He made Annabeth and Grover swear to hide Nico’s identity, so the gods wouldn’t kill him

(I don't think Nico understands who he is. But we can't go telling anyone. Not even Chiron. If the Olympians find out—" "It might start them fighting among each other again," Annabeth said. "That's the last thing we need." Grover looked worried. "But you can't hide things from the gods. Not forever." (Titan’s Curse, Chapter 20))

He decided to shoulder the prophecy, solely because he wanted to prevent Nico from going through any more suffering

 ("I don't need forever," I said. "Just two years. Until I'm sixteen." Annabeth paled. "But, Percy, this means the prophecy might not be about you. It might be about Nico. We have to—" "No," I said. "I choose the prophecy. It will be about me." "Why are you saying that?" she cried. "You want to be responsible for the whole world?" It was the last thing I wanted, but I didn't say that. I knew I had to step up and claim it. "I can't let Nico be in any more danger," I said. "I owe that much to his sister. I… let them both down. I'm not going to let that poor kid suffer any more." "The poor kid who hates you and wants to see you dead," Grover reminded me. "Maybe we can find him," I said. "We can convince him it's okay, hide him someplace safe." Annabeth shivered. "If Luke gets hold of him—" "Luke won't," I said. "I'll make sure he's got other things to worry about. Namely, me." (Titan’s Curse, Chapter 20)

He searched for Nico between Titan’s curse and Battle of the labyrinth

 (“So the Nico boy is gone now?” “I—I guess. I tried to search for him this spring. So did Annabeth. But we didn’t have any luck. This is secret, Tyson. Okay? If anyone found out he was a son of Hades, he would be in danger. You can’t even tell Chiron.” (Battle of the Labyrinth, chapter 2))

He risked his, Grover’s, Annabeth’s and Tyson’s life on Geryon’s farm, for the chance to save Nico

(“Either way, you get my friends,” I said. “But, if I succeed, you’ve got to let all of us go, including Nico.” (Battle of the Labyrinth, Chapter 8))

He always offered Nico a place to stay, whenever he got the opportunity

 (“We missed you at dinner,” I said. “You could’ve sat with me.” “No.” “Nico, you can’t miss every meal. If you don’t want to stay with Hermes, maybe they can make an exception and put you in the big house. They’ve got plenty of room.” I’m not staying, Percy.” “But…you can’t just leave. It’s too dangerous out there for a lone half-blood. You need to train.” (Battle of the Labyrinth, Chapter 19)

He invited him to join him on his birthday

 (“Is that… is that blue birthday cake?” He sounded hungry, maybe a little wistful. I wondered if the poor kid had ever had a birthday party, or if he’d ever been invited to one. “Come inside for cake and ice cream,” I said. “It sounds like we’ve got a lot to talk about.” (Battle of the Labyrinth, Chapter 20)

He reminded him that it’s okay to still be a kid  

(“By the way…” I fished something out of my pocket. “Tyson found this while we were cleaning the cabin. Thought you might want it.” I held out a lead figurine of Hades—the little Mythomagic statue Nico had abandoned when he fled camp last winter. Nico hesitated. “I don’t play that game anymore. It’s for kids.” “It’s got four thousand attack power,” I coaxed. “Five thousand,” Nico corrected. “But only if your opponent attacks first.” I smiled. “Maybe it’s okay to still be a kid once in a while.” I tossed him the statue,( Battle of the Labyrinth, Chapter 19)

He always offered him his help

 (“Are you sure you want to stay here?” I asked. “Persephone will make your life miserable.” “I have to,” he insisted. “I have to get close to my dad. He needs a better adviser.” I couldn’t argue with that. “Well, if you need anything-“ “I’ll call,” he promised. (The Sword of Hades, in The Demigod Files, p 133)

He helped him to get the sword of hades back, because he understood his wish to impress his father

(I glanced at Thalia. She didn’t seem too enthusiastic about the whole track-a-thief-with-a-flower-thing. Then I looked at Nico. Unfortunately, I recognized the expression on his face. I knew what it was like wanting to make your dad proud, even if your dad was hard to love. In this case, really hard to love. Nico was going to do this, with or without us. And I couldn’t let him go alone. (The Sword of Hades, in The Demigod Files, page 99)

He acknowledged everything Nico has done in the last Olympian and is one of the main reasons why Hades received a cabin at camp

( “But your children should not be left out. They should have a cabin at camp. Nico has proven that.” (The Last Olympian, Chapter 20)

The only time, Percy hurt Nico in any way was the whole scene in the underworld at the beginning of the last Olympian, but I already tackled that whole scene here:

I would agree that their relationship very much deteriorated in Hoo, mostly because Rick wrote especially Percy pretty OOC, but even in that series, I would never describe Percy’s treatment of Nico as horrible.  

Nico and Percy are together with Hazel my favourite Riordan verse characters, and I really hate how many people pretend like Percy was this horrible person, who always treated Nico shitty, or that they don’t genuinely care for each other. This misconception might be,(together with the “dumb-Percy-stereotype) the take I hate the most in this fandom, and really hurts both of their characters.

Since I struggle with understanding the difference between romantic and platonic attraction, I just need to make it clear that Nico di Angelo makes sense to me despite all of that. As a kid in elementary school who was bullied, who had no friends except my parents, I found comfort in books. People in books don't judge. They don't feel as scary or as imposing as people in real life. And Nico di Angelo was a character who made me feel less alone. Nobody liked him either. He also had no friends. Everyone thought he was weird. And that validation… that validation made him a childhood favourite. I couldn't have explained it as well back then, but I always knew I loved him.

Since I was a kid who never, ever felt romance, the Cupid stuff always went over my head. Maybe now that i'm approaching 20, i'll understand it more. But even if I don't, I get why Nico likes the dead more than the living. It's the same reason Leo likes machines more than real people. Real people are confusing, unpredictable, difficult to work with. Real people are also cruel, judgemental and unkind. But machines and ghosts…machines are predictable. They work in a way you can understand. And ghosts have suffered pain. They can at least understand isolation and loneliness.

And I don't think I ever did understand why Nico had a crush on Percy, because I was a kid for whom romance was just a thing in books and movies (never a real thing to be felt). I just knew that Percy Jackson was the one who was freaked out by him when he learned he was a son of hades, who got annoyed internally when young nico asked too many questions, who broke his promise to keep his sister safe. Percy Jackson was horrible to Nico, and it is not talked about enough. I don't care that they made peace (at least not when I wrote this in a passionate frenzy)!

I want some recognition of how everyone Nico liked hurt him! His sister abandoned him for the hunters! Percy promised to keep her safe, but failed! Everyone at Camp Half-Blood shunned Nico for being a child of hades! Every time we see Nico in these books, people are discussing how freaked out he makes them. Every. Single. Time. Every Time! This kid is the universe's punching bag, and he deserves countless apologies from everyone!

[thegothicalice]

What were your first top 3 favorite movies as a kid?

According to my mother’s recollection, The Lion King, The Little Mermaid and… I dunno, something else, I think one of the Scooby Doo movies like Ghoul School. From my recollection it’s fuzzier because I didn’t get into movies seriously until 14/15 and pre-middle school was not really favorites, just movies that traumatized me but I was weirdly captivated by because of it (Temple of Doom at age 4 and Black Cauldron at age 5 being probably the most notable).

[skid-the-mighty-poet]

[cheetabites]

☆彡 age ain’t nothing but a number ˳༄꠶

characters: park gyeong seok (player 246), kang dae ho (player 388), and hwang in ho (player 001 / the frontman)

˳༄꠶ summary: headcannons i have regarding if you - their partner - were younger than them (fem intended! reader, and all legal babes 💋)

park gyeong seok (player 246)

★ he works as a portrait painter near an amusement park, he’s been approached by many younger woman. they usually directly express their interest in him by flirting but he usually brushes it off with a smile and a timid shake of his head. regarding this, i don’t think it would’ve been a problem if he’d gotten into a relationship with a younger woman; he is a the type of older man to get really shy about it though

★ despite the hierarchy in korea where juniors are supposed to automatically respect their elders, gyeong seok doesn’t really push it too much. he treats you as an equal with a bit of extra pampering - he does believe that since he’s the older one in the relationship, he should carry most of the responsibilities, whether that be household chores, bringing money home, or just caring for you and his daughter

★ he isn’t too sensitive to other’s opinions on your relationship, but there are some times where he worries about the age gap. it’s mostly out of worry for you though; i mean he’s nearing closer to finally turning forty and he has a young daughter. he just wants you to be happy. although if you talk it out with him and ease his worries, then i think thoughts like those will eventually dissipate

★ sex with him wouldn’t be any different even if you were younger, he’d still have the same kinks. although he would treat you more gently just to make sure he doesn’t “hurt” you

★ his daughter doesn’t mind the age gap either. you’re sweet, thoughtful and you make her dad happy. the only way she’d ever question the age difference would be from an external factor like whispers from other parents that she overhears or if one her classmates says something about it. if this does happen though, you and gyeong seok would obviously clear stuff up for her

kang dae ho (player 388)

★ to be honest, when he first met you he didn’t even think that you were younger than him. it was only when you clarified your age that he realized that he was older than you. he still pursued you despite it though, because you were both legal adults and he found himself captivated with you; he does tend to get with older women though, more often than he does with younger women

★ he’s another one that gets a bit shy about the fact that he’s dating a younger woman. you and his friends love to tease him about it too, just so you can hear him stutter as he tries to figure out a comeback; if one of his friends make a bad comment about your relationship though, he’ll post tf up. but make sure to drag him away, he’s not really good in physical fights

★ he’s more shy when he subs for you. something about you being younger than him yet having all this power over him makes him red in the face (and rock hard in his slacks)

★ i feel like he’d try to coddle you, but you’d hit him with the “i had you crying and begging for me last night, i can take care of myself.” he’d pout when you’d brushed off his advances, but would eventually get over it; he just loves you sm

★ with you, he honestly acts like a himbo. don’t get me wrong, he’s not unintelligent, but it’s like he’s so starstruck with your presence that it kinda short circuits his brain; it makes him all the more lovable though!

hwang in ho / 001 / the frontman

★ this man does not give one flying fuck that you’re younger than him. in fact, it boosts his ego that he was able to bag such a beautiful young baddie like you; just know you’re gonna be as spoiled as hell

★ he’s so detached from people’s opinions that he could not give less of a rats ass about their opinion on your relationship. if it does somehow tick him off though, then he’ll just put a bullet in them

★ if you’re his significant other, there isn’t much of an opportunity to return back to society. he doesn’t want to risk you interacting with other people - especially if you were a previous player; you disappeared without a trace and then suddenly returned to society? it would cause more problems than solutions. he makes sure to make it up to you in other ways though, he doesn’t want you to be unhappy

★ he tries to hide your relationship from the guards, but since you can’t leave he eventually just lets it be. there isn’t much to do at the facility / where the games are held so the guards are constantly exposed to you trailing after him wherever he goes, curious as ever - you often ask him random questions and he regularly indulges in you to keep you satiated. i can just picture you trampling around the halls doing whatever you want in the most fabulous outfit that he gifted you - obviously breaking the rules - and the guards just give eachother a look, kinda saying “damn, if we did that boss would fire - a bullet at - us.”

★ sex with him is relatively the same. but with a younger partner, i believe things like thigh riding and a daddy kink will appear sometime after you get intimate together

the end! I hope you enjoyed <3!

© cheetabites. don’t translate, claim or repost my works on any platform. jan 4 2025.

[amourcheol]

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

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“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.