#the actual movie was released in 1975

[blondebrainpowered]

In between takes of Monty Python and the Holy Grail, John Cleese is seen playing football. ca. 1974

[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 �� 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 vernon who owns an outdated film store, fem!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. 

[tocomplainfriend]

It feels less like you want to address a real life problem to characters, but more like you want to have another of your characters you constantly baby and want others to fangirl over.

TW: Rape, SA, Racism, Stereotyping, Homophobia, Acephobia, Arophobia.

The representations of topics in media DOES affect real people.

Fiction can affect reality.

Let's start easy, Jaws. This goes back to Hazbin I promise.

"Since the release of Jaws in 1975, the world has witnessed a staggering decline of 71% in shark and ray populations, and around 100 million sharks are killed each year." (including multiple practices of mass hunting sharks in competition)

Both Steven Spielberg and the original writer Peter Benchley regret the movie and book. It's a big reason of the shark treatment, when it started by old fishermen worrying about shark biting people in the beaches they made money of.

Even if you aren't a shark killer yourself, a lot of things you believe of sharks are untrue myths that come from making sharks "evil" human killer animals. Sharks cannot smell blood from miles away, that's not even how water works, the particles of blood need to enter their nostrils. Sharks are not man eaters, they attack other prey animals before human. Shark attacks are extremely rare, even if they happen they are not justifiable to kill all sharks.

Sharks actually have personalities they can fit in, they are smart and recognize people and boats- and form positive relationships with people. They can even like getting pet by people.

Other level to represent other thing sin media that affects reality we can address Queer, representation as a topic.

I hope it is not a surprise for you... possible non-straight, non-cis person reading this. That the constant representation of gay man as kid predator is a problem. They used old commercial (PSA) to spread negative views of gay man. Media is used to spread messages and affect its viewer. This is, there are cartoons created by Jehovah witness (or similar religions) to spread their beliefs and teach to their children in an easy, digestible way.

Same with the amount of straight woman that went off to read shitty yaoi manga and fetishy gay wattpad stories, and went to sexualize and diminish queer men. Constantly making gay man's personality into bottom or top (uke and seme shit). I witness this irl, others have too.

Same with shitty men that view Lesbians as a porn machine for men, cause "monkey brain like woman, lesbian = two women". Which happens in general and adult media. All of these are EASY examples.

Another one which turns out many people don't think about. Having your representation of an AroAce character (on purpose or not) be the psychopath with no feelings. Associating the not being romantically or sexually to means you have no heart, to be abnormal, by then a psychopath. An abuse or serial killer.

Fiction does affect reality-

A racist film, 'Birth of the nation' Revived the KKK and let to all the discrimination, and the homicide of black people of centuries ahead.

-

Coming back around, how you treat the topic of SA, and r-pe- affects the real world. You would think someone who wrote that, had in mind on how that affects people in real life. Didn't you want to represent victims of SA/R-pe that are sex workers and male?

Reducing the r-pist, pimp, trafficker character to an air head to treat as silly is crazy to do. Specially as... oh idk... the creator? Both this and the tweet of the voice actor calling Val "Bubbles Coded" is so crazy. The character is also not deep enough by itself, it's pretty much Stupid and a R-pist sex trafficker. The tweet below Viv's fucking kills me too.

The fact Val is shown to be air head stupid doesn't delete he backed Angel (and by being a sex trafficker and a pimp, and him licking charlie that means he has multiple victims) into a corner and under his control. Too then abuse of him in many different ways. Manipulations are not only done by Super mastermind people, and representing it in such way diminished, affects people who have being manipulated and actually try to question if they have being or not. Manipulators can be normal, average people, they usually are not obvious. Even if Val is openly a shitty person that's really obvious, it doesn't detract from him being manipulative to people. The scene where Val threatens him in chains that is manipulation, his text messages are manipulation (even if you think it is too obvious to be successful).

How you represent SA/R-PE, and its perpetrators, do affect real life.

Going around and having your "serious R-pe episode", to then go in other episodes or the other series you are writing to make r-pe/sa jokes is terrible. For the person that directed the whole scene of poison to NOT be r-pe/sa victim (said by themselves) with a r-pe fetish with this character's in specific, to directed in the most graphic way possible is awful. To go around babying your r-pist character is crazy.

Hope you understand that this doesn't mean not treating any topic at all. Creators should be awere on how they treat topics and the scenarios they create with them, too. People and viewers need to also put their brain to understand the media they consume. But you can't always put all blame only on the viewers of a series, if media is messy is a fault of the media. You can criticize both.

You need to acknowledge Valentino is indeed a terrible person, You don't need to delete his actions or the weight of them.

I also just know that a lot of Val fans just like him to draw him in r-pe art and get their fetishized gay ship. Cause that's what they are into. You won't even do that with a woman, because you are into your fucked up fetishized gay porn from wattpad you never left behind.

If you like him, FUCK IT, just please take his abuse seriously. Don't default your entire usage, and view of the character to be 'uwufied' fandom stuff, please.

I hate how the topic has being treated, in and out of the show. I'm a victim, and I'm hurt by how these things are treated and knowing how it affects others. Even in things I haven't watched! Don't make the argument don't like it? Just don't watch it. The movies from the video of SA of men being a joke, many I haven't watch- that still affects over all. It's still a problem and it's disheartening.

Also have this:

[timeagainreviews]

Dust and Darkness Prevail

Panspermia is the theory that human life was seeded by comets, asteroids, meteoroids, and space dust falling to Earth. Directed panspermia is the idea that an unknown third party purposely seeded life onto this planet through similar means. These are perhaps the most ancient of aliens. For whatever reason, be it propagation, a future food source, or simply contamination from an explorer’s boot, somehow, we were created.  It’s easy to see why mankind looked to the stars for parentage- we are made of star stuff, after all. As our understanding of the stars grew, so did our desire to understand them in relation to ourselves. Staring down the concept of being a mere dust mote floating within sunbeams, some of us began to wonder if the Gods we abandoned weren’t actually a different form of sky daddy. In the words of Giorgio A. Tsoukalos- “Aliens.”

Science fiction has a rich history of depicting ancient Gods as alien lifeforms. Doctor Who is no different. Sometimes these extra-terrestrial visitors are used to explain odd phenomena, and other times, they’ve been used to outright undermine the achievements of ancient civilisations. One of the most popular ancient alien theories is that aliens helped build the pyramids. Some Egyptian-themed polyhedron-obsessed aliens influenced ancient Egyptian culture. You can see it in movies like Stargate, or in television stories like the 1975 Doctor Who serial “Pyramids of Mars.” Recent books like Erich Von Daniken’s scientifically dubious “Chariots of the Gods,” or numerous documentaries narrated by Rod Serling had garnered interest in ancient astronauts. A year after “Pyramids of Mars,” aired, NASA released photos from their Viking 1 orbiter that would only feed these theories. The black and white photos of the Cydonia region appeared to depict a carved facelike structure and gigantic pyramids on the planet’s surface. Needless to say, some people let their imaginations run wild.

While many of the concepts explored in the History Channel’s “Ancient Aliens,” have been labelled pseudo-science or even racist, some of these concepts still crop up in popular media. A more benign example would be Marvel’s own Thor and Loki. Sure, they call them Gods, but they are very clearly from advanced alien civilisations. It feels appropriate then that Doctor Who returning with Disney money might also explore one of its own ancient aliens in Sutekh the Destroyer. Considering the build-up with the Toymaker and the Maestro, it all seems fairly obvious in hindsight. But what does this have to do with Ruby Sunday? In seeking out her own parentage, might she also benefit from looking to the stars?

One aspect to this season of Doctor Who that I feel has actually fallen a bit flat is the question of Ruby Sunday’s parents. Considering that the fandom has been interacting more with the question of the identity of Susan Twist’s character, it’s safe to say I’m not alone in this. It’s just not a very interesting question, and I think it’s partly because we already know the answer. Doctor Who’s official Twitter recently asked fans who they think Ruby’s mother really is, and only a few people actually got the answer right. It’s Carla Sunday, obviously. I find this whole question to be as flawed as the conversation around it. Ruby uses words like “abandoned,” to describe herself. And while I can understand the desire to know your roots, I know my adopted siblings were never abandoned. They were found. They have a family who love them. My mother who was also adopted had a mother in my grandma. My greatest hope with this storyline is that this is what Russell T Davies has been leading up to all along. Ruby’s real mother is the one who changed her diapers and cleaned up scraped knees.

Speaking of family, “The Legend of Ruby Sunday,” begins like a bit of a family reunion. Yasmin Finney is back as “Rose.” As are Gemma Redgrave as “Kate Lethbridge-Stewart,” Bonnie Langford as “Mel,” and Alexander Devrient as “Colonel Christofer Ibrahim.” Also returning is the Vlinx, with a shiny new chassis. Strangely absent is Ruth Madeley as UNIT’s scientific advisor “Shirley Anne Bingham." In her place is Lenny Rush as “Morris Gibbons,” a boy genius with a taste for excitement. We’re also introduced to Harriet, UNIT’s newest lead archivist. More on her later. The light tone of this family reunion is much needed as the majority of this episode is Doctor Who at its most bleak.

Something I have completely failed to mention this season has been the TARDIS’ weird groaning. It’s not as though I hadn’t noticed, there have just been so many things to talk about lately. I had meant to bring it up last week when the Doctor told Rogue the TARDIS doesn’t like bounty hunters. I figured then that it was the Doctor ignoring a bigger problem. Speaking of which, it does strike me as a bit odd that the Doctor hadn’t addressed the issue for such a long time. The TARDIS has been groaning and sliding into landings like a football tackle. I understand that the Doctor has a lot on his mind, but it would have been nice if they could have shown the Doctor showing any kind of concern for the TARDIS. He’s been flying her for thousands of years, he would notice any slight change. This isn’t a huge issue for me, though it does feel a bit out of character. But who am I to complain? Even I forgot to bring it up.

The Doctor does have a lot on his mind, which is what brings him to UNIT HQ. It was nice to see the Doctor lay all of his cards on the table for a change. You don’t often see the Doctor outright asking for help. Luckily, UNIT was already on the case. The woman the Doctor keeps seeing also exists in modern-day London as Susan Triad. I found it a bit odd that the Doctor would know a politician from an aborted timeline like Roger ap Gwilliam, but not a tech industry giant with her name on a skyscraper. Even Colonel Ibrahim recognised it as an anagram of TARDIS, so what gives, Doctor? 

Part of their gathering intelligence on Susan Triad has been using Mel to infiltrate her organisation. When I had heard they were bringing back Mel, I was excited. Mel has never been a fan favourite, and even I took a lot of time to warm up to her in classic Doctor Who. But bringing her back feels like a no-brainer. She’s a tech whiz and Bonnie Langford is a great actress. There is only room to grow with her character, and grow she does. Not only have they given her a bit more backstory with losing her family, but we also get to see her acting as a double agent and puttering about on her scooter. Seeing Mel in this capacity is a delight. I am really enjoying how they have built up UNIT to be more like the ‘70s (or was it the ‘80s?) with recurring characters. Instead of Yates and Benton, we’ll now have Ibrahim and Sullivan. I really hope they continue this trend, though I would appreciate it if they stopped haemorrhaging scientific advisors.

Despite around-the-clock surveillance, the most UNIT has managed to gather on Susan Triad is that she’s a seemingly nice human woman with no underlying alien traits. Her company’s upcoming event will announce that she is making the Triad OS free to the world, which seems like a weird flex. Ubuntu and Fedora are both free operating systems, so this is nothing new. What’s even more perplexing is that UNIT would integrate Triad into their own systems. Call me crazy, but if I were a government organisation spying on a tech giant because their name is an anagram of an alien time machine, I might opt to use Windows or Mac. The whole storyline was giving shades of “The Sontaran Strategem/The Poison Sky,” or even “Kingsman: The Secret Service,” wherein miracle technologies are secretly deadly. We still don’t know the ramifications of the Triad system’s worldwide rollout, but I imagine we’ll find out next week.

Something a friend pointed out to me that feels important happens during the Mrs Flood scene. According to Kate, the Triad press conference was scheduled for fifteen hundred hours, or 3 pm. What’s odd is that when Ruby and Rose show up to Ruby’s home, Cherry’s digital clock reads 15:08. At first, I had misremembered this scene and figured it must take place during the events at UNIT HQ, but the inclusion of Ruby and Rose implies that it’s not. I can think of three possible explanations for this. One explanation is that it was a continuity error. The production crew simply goofed. It happens. Another explanation is that Cherry’s radio is like my coffee machine in that the digital time display is incorrect. That’s possibly the most human answer. But television doesn’t often allow for such realistic discrepancies as they can confuse audiences. Seriously, how often do you see fictional stories where two characters share the name John? One of my closest friends is also named Natalie, but that wouldn’t usually work in fiction. This leaves us with a third explanation which is that it was done on purpose. Either something wibbly wobbly is happening, or they goofed.

As expected, Mrs Flood appears to be someone. With the reveal of Susan Triad being Sutekh, my hopes of the Rani have been dashed against the rocks of reality. Or have they? In explaining regeneration to Ruby, the Doctor describes it as a way to hide away with a new face. When Ruby fetches Mrs Flood to mind Cherry while Carla joins them back at UNIT, Mrs Flood mentions hiding herself away. While Mrs Flood was a bit rude to Ruby and downright hostile toward Cherry, these could be the actions of a bitter Susan Foreman, aka the Doctor’s granddaughter. However, I am reticent to call her Susan for a couple or reasons. For starters, Carole Ann Ford was present at the premiere for the 60th anniversary specials. Sure this could have simply been due to her history with the show, but it could also imply she’s been filming things for the RTD2 era. You could speculate that the only thing she actually filmed was a flashback regeneration scene into Mrs Flood, but that feels like a waste of a much-needed reunion. My money is on the Rani, but mostly because I want her to be and because Carole Ann Ford deserves her moment. If they bring Susan back, there’s only one person I want to see play her.

Ruby and Rose fetch the surveillance tape from the night Ruby was left on that church stoop. I loved that Carla joined them the moment she learned that Donna was involved with UNIT. It’s nice to see that at least one character hasn’t forgotten who Ruby’s real mother is. This also gave rise to one of my favourite Doctor moments of the episode when he says "Yeah but it’s Carla. Come on," in response to the claim that not even the prime minister has access to UNIT HQ. I loved the exchange between the Doctor and Kate about their possession of a time window. They claim they don’t have one, the Doctor knows they do. Classic. It’s the Doctor knowing of the existence of the Black Archive all over again. Even further, I loved the Doctor laughing at the way UNIT has “lashed together,” the time window. I doubt he really feels that way, but the Doctor needs to remind UNIT not to get too comfortable. Undercutting their achievement is a reminder that these items aren’t toys. It’s a subtle way to establish himself as an authority while also reminding UNIT of their limitations. The Doctor’s aim isn’t to belittle UNIT, but to instill a healthy fear of these technologies. As it turns out, the Doctor’s fears were well-founded.

The time window is a large room capable of viewing moments in time. The Doctor refers to time as a memory which is a bigger Whoiverse change than people are giving it credit. I always thought of the TARDIS as a supercomputer that stores moments throughout time in its memory like files. It makes sense that time and memory mingle like this. The effect of the VHS degradation on memory is one of the coolest visual effects in Doctor Who. It’s nice to see that Disney money coming into play. I also have to tip my hat to Lenny Rush for his performance as Morris here. Lots of UNIT characters were given little moments to shine in this episode like Harriet and Colonel Chidozie. The latter of whom we’re given a bit of background information about so that when he meets his demise, we care a little bit more. He’s just a Manchester lad with a cheery disposition. It would be a shame if something were to happen to him.

In an almost cruel twist of fate, the visual of Ruby’s mother is obscured. Not just obscured, but seemingly darkened as if on purpose. The moment she walks close to the Doctor and Ruby, she glitches past them. It’s sad for Ruby, but I feel it’s important that Carla is there to witness this moment. She needs to see that the mystery of Ruby’s life isn’t just one of being an orphan, but that something is deeply and darkly wrong. I feel as though Carla’s involvement in this storyline is due a rather big payoff next week, and I am looking forward to that. The Doctor notices that the TARDIS appears more corporeal than a simple image from a video. He asks the tanatalising question “If time is memory and memory is time, then what is the memory of a time machine?” It’s a question I have been mulling in my head ever since, and I still don’t have a great answer.

Colonel Chidozie disappears around the same time a swarm of dark energy begins to incircle the memory TARDIS (omg I think I just figured it out). The MEMORY TARDIS! Ok. I see what you’re putting down, Russell. Carla refers to the dark energy as “the Beast,” as in, the devil. But who among us didn’t automatically think of the Beast from “The Satan Pit”? Hell, it’s not as though it would break the show if Sutekh and the Beast were one in the same. They’re both voiced by Gabriel Woolf. Furthermore, we know Sutekh takes on multiple forms like the doggo or Susan Triad. There are plenty of examples of gods taking on multiple forms. Christianity has the Holy Trinity of God, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Hindu gods often have multiple forms such as Vishnu manifesting as Krishna, Rama, or even Buddha. It’s fully within the realm of possibility that the Beast is yet one more aspect to Sutekh. After all, the Fourth Doctor did refer to him as Satan at one point. Why not?

Possibly the most interesting aspect of the scene is when Chidozie’s speaks out from the darkness. It’s not so much the fact that he’s in Hell or that his consciousness feels like it’s been hijacked like Angel Bob’s was, but rather the fact that he only seems to respond to Ruby. The Doctor tries to commune with the entity and gets nothing. Kate commands Chidozie to report and comes up equally empty-handed. It’s not until Ruby attempts to communicate with the entity that it responds. If Christianity has the Trinity and Hinduism has the Trimurti, perhaps Sutekh has the Triad. Perhaps there’s Sutekh, his doggo form, and Ruby Sunday. This might explain why Ruby’s birth mother has been obscured- she never existed. Whoever left Ruby at the church that day could have been a servant of Sutekh, or even Susan Triad herself.

The tone of the episode by this point is very gloomy. I think the last time Doctor Who gave me the creeps to this degree was “The Impossible Astronaut.” As a fan of dark and disturbing movies, I consider myself rather resilient to horror and dread in media. But there is something about turning the TARDIS into a malevolent force that chills me to my core. Bad Wolf Girl once said “You know the sound the TARDIS makes? That wheezing, groaning. That sound brings hope wherever it goes.” But here, the TARDIS offers no comfort. It goes beyond seeing our beloved symbol of hope twisted and perverted. We have seen what the TARDIS is capable of doing. We know how powerful it can be. We can also imagine what that power can do in the wrong hands. My dear late friend Quinn and I used to say that the cloister bell was the scariest sound the TARDIS could make. But this howling groan and sinister energy turning into a hound of Hell is like the cloister bell on steroids.

The Doctor and Mel head off to S Triad Technologies in the vain hope that Susan might be the Doctor’s granddaughter Susan. It’s a last-ditch effort to gain insight into what is happening. Earlier in the episode, we see Kate telling the Doctor that he brings joy, but after Chidozie’s death, you get the impression that her view has sobered up a bit. The Doctor sees the fear in Kates eyes. He sees the fear in Carla’s eyes. He even let down his best friend Ruby. But it’s Mel who picks him back up. Mel who has seen him at his worst and knows who the Doctor is underneath it all. Only she can give him the tough love he needs in this moment and I loved that they gave this opportunity to Bonnie Langford.

The Doctor makes contact with Susan Triad but there is no Time Lord recognition on either end. However, we’ve been here before. Maybe she has a fob watch she doesn’t like to look at. Maybe she’s hiding away. With her press conference due to begin, Susan is whisked away. But as she leaves the Doctor calls out asking if she’s ever dreamed of a girl named Lindy. Has she ever dreamed about a place called Pacifico Del Rio? Has she ever dreamed about being an ambulance? Out of context, he sounds insane. I mean, sure, I dream of being a sail barge, but that’s my special time. It’s enough to set things into motion.

At this point, we still don’t know the true identity of Susan Triad. She very well could still be the Doctor’s granddaughter. But the moment she walked onstage doing that awkward Theresa May arm thing, I knew she had to be evil. Historically speaking, if you want someone to appear evil in Doctor Who, compare them to a Tory. It worked in “The Happiness Patrol,” and it still works now. Could you imagine being the person who milkshakes Sutekh? I feel like throwing a sweet banana dairy concoction into the face of a terrible god would only resort in eternal suffering. While Susan Triad is having her public meltdown for all to see, UNIT’s own Harriet Arbinger is doing one as well. Once again we get another Harbinger. I’ll be honest, the H. Arbinger joke isn’t nearly as strong as RTD seems to think it is. But then again, Batman is the “world’s greatest detective,” and it took him a while to learn that E. Nigma was the Riddler.

I had begun to fully suspect Sutekh by this point, but part of me was starting to wonder if Harriet wasn’t going to turn out to be Sutekh instead. It would have been a very effective misdirect. I was really liking Harriet up to this point too, so I was a bit sad she just turned out to be a servant of the God of Death. Her “I was born for this,” line had me a little hot under the collar. But it looks like she’s gonna get a lot to do in the next episode, so that softens the blow a little bit. As she names off the various gods of the Pantheon, I was very happy to see them reference the Mara as I am a big fan of both “Kinda,” and “Snakedance.” Some have also speculated that the threefold deity of malice, mischief and misery could be a reference to the Gods of Ragnarok. I really hope this is true because I’ve always thought they were cool.

I’ve seen some people complain that they seem to have somewhat retconned Sutekh. People have said it makes no sense to make him the god of gods. He’s an Osiran, not the most powerful god of them all, right? Well, if you think about it, in many ways, death is the ultimate power. If a god like the Toymaker can die, then of course he would run from Sutekh. Also, he’s a god, of course he’s going to claim to be the best. That’s kind of their whole deal. They’re quite full of themselves, gods. Sutekh’s whole deal is that he believes himself the only being worthy of life. Thus all living creatures are an affront to him. Where he treads, he leaves only dust and darkness. Sutekh demonstrates this by reducing Susan Triad’s poor assistant to dust much like he did to Chidozie. With the TARDIS commandeered by evil Anubis and the Doctor being next in line to receive Sutekh’s gift, things have never looked darker for our Time Lord and saviour.

So who was Susan Triad? Was she always Sutekh? Harriet referred to Sutekh as “the mother, father, and other of them all.” I suppose I should start using they/them pronouns for Sutekh. But who were they? Did every incarnation of Sutekh know they were Sutekh? You could wager that they had a hand in a lot of what was happening, and a lot of what was happening could lead to death. The Space Babies were forced into existence and left to die. Roger ap Gwilliam and the Maestro were set on nuclear annihilation. Lindy and her lot were racists which often leads to death. And let's not forget the cold algorithm of the capitalistic war machines from Villengard. What’s even more interesting then is that if these are all aspects of Sutekh and death, then we know Sutekh is stoppable. In “73 Yards,” we’re shown that whatever Ruby’s follower said to Sutekh was enough to send them scurrying. Sadly, Ruby has no memory of this aborted timeline.

With a new episode of “Tales from the TARDIS,” in the pipeline, I expect we’ll see the return of the memory TARDIS in a big way. According to news sources, the new episode will feature the Doctor and Ruby discussing the events of “Pyramids of Mars,” so make sure to watch that if you need a refresher or have never seen the original. One aspect you might find interesting is that Sutekh initially manifests at a priory on the site of the original UNIT HQ. I have no idea if that will come into play, but it’s interesting that both stories are focused around UNIT, if nothing else. Even more interesting is the fact that in both stories, Sutekh is intent on possessing the TARDIS. I wonder if the Doctor will be forced to use the memory TARDIS to stop Sutekh since the regular TARDIS is compromised. We see Ruby’s memory begin to manifest once more when she and Sullivan enter the time window again. It’s entirely plausible.

I’ll be watching the finale like many others in the UK this weekend, at the movie theatre. The last time I got to see a Doctor Who episode in the theatre was in Kansas City when they simulcast “The Day of the Doctor,” at a local indie-theatre. I’ll never forget the feeling of a theatre packed with nerds cheering over Peter Capaldi’s attack eyebrows. I’m also going to see it in the theatre because, evidently, this is a big enough episode to merit a cinematic experience. I bought nine tickets, so it’s going to be a bit of an event for me. I’ll try not and let that colour my experience too much. All in all, I loved this episode, but we’re still waiting for the other shoe to drop. I loved “Fugitive of the Judoon,” but the lacklustre finale left me retroactively disappointed. But for the time being, RTD has my full attention. I can’t remember the last time Doctor Who left me this excited for what’s to come.

[strange-creature-in-black]

WHERE TO START WITH THE SHADOW?

Explaining this format, this was an anonymous ask but because i've been very...very...VERY silly I deleted it on accident.

They wanted to know where to start with The Shadow.

That can vary based on personal preference. I have more of a bias towards the original pulp run of the character since that's where he's at his best both in character and with stories. I would start there if possible.

Start with the first 5 stories:

The Living Shadow

Eyes of The Shadow

The Shadow Laughs

The Red Menace

Gangdom's Doom

Then read any stories from the 30s. Here are some recommendations:

The Death Tower

The Silent Seven

The Grove of Doom

The Black Hush

The Road of Crime

The Five Chameleons

The Salamanders

The Black Falcon

Charg, Monster

The Voodoo Master Saga (The Voodoo Master, City of Doom, Voodoo Trail)

The 40s has some good ones but I have this impossible paranoid scenario in my head that someone goes from finishing The Living Shadow then for some unknown reason The Television Murders and then never reads The Shadow again.

First 5 start out a bit long but after Gangdom's Doom they changed to a smaller format. They're short, digestible and you could practically start anywhere. Only a handful of stories have a linear storyline.

It's expected but as a reminder, all of it's an older product (unsensible to anyone NOT white, handsome, and male.)

OTHER RECOMMENDS:

The Shadow: IN THE COILS OF Leviathan - Literally designed to be an introduction and the closest thing to an og pulp story in modern times. His greatest presentation in comics DEFINITELY give it a read.

The Shadow Movie Adaptation - In here in case you didn't like the movie. More creativity and a lot less drama. Actually does A LOT of things better than the movie.

The Shadow (1973 - 1975) - A decent series that takes inspiration from the stories and radio.

The Shadow (serial) - Due to the format it's kinda built like a story. Best out of all theatrical releases that came out during his peak. Also one of the few films that weren't hyperfixated on the radio show (and didn't put you in a coma!)

The Shadow Radio Show season 1 and / or the BF Goodrich Summer Season - The beginning of the psychic origin and invisible element of the Shadow, which has been attached to many character iterations since. An obvious pick but features the more memorable stuff and some of the series' stronger episodes.

[florsial]

Hey bestie I’m trial and erroring a Rabastan design and I’m struggling so what does he look/dress like in your gorgeous mind because no one gets him like you do

Hello :D and thank youu <3333

Okay, I have been thinking about his appearance from time to time. the main consistent detail is that he isn't very "sleazy" in looks. He's pretty put together. He is wearing an expensive suit, maybe a couple buttons undone, and a loose tie with those shiny black loafers, but overall he's pretty clean. His most casual would be dress pants and button up that's kinda undone.

(HIS FANCY STYLE GETS REGULUS SO GIDDY!!! Like if you ever saw those photos of someone standing on their s/o feet THATS SO THEMMM)

I've been torn over having him with long hair or short hair. But in the end, shorter hair is more fitting for him, I think. In a way that expresses that he doesn't have the luxury of keeping his hair long like Rodolphus if he's constantly fighting for something. So I imagine something like the short wavy hair you see when you search it up on Pinterest for men (don't ask me how I know that). When I first sketched him out, I gave him long hair but it didn't fit.

I couldn't find a proper description in the HP wiki nor do I remember what he is described as in the books when he first shows up. Only that is a thin man. So I think his face is slightly sunken in and his entire body is pretty lanky. And he's pretty tall (HEIGHT DIFFERENCE BETWEEN HIM AND REGULUS HEIGHT DIFFERENCE!!). His hair and eyes are both pretty dark and his skin is a little tan since I actually see him as a very outdoorsy person and amazing, like, really smooth without blemishes (for some reason).

(Pandora starts breaking out when she hit puberty and she contemplates torturing Rabastan's skincare out of him) (he has none)

Don't take this as seriously, but I picture something like Victor from The Corpse Bride (I've never seen that movie honestly) but yk, just for fun lol.

He doesn't have this overly messy style because he's like this black sheep (Like Sirius or Barty) because of his mother's family influence. With his maternal (a side branch from Averys), he's very well dressed and groomed, they made sure of that! The Avery side of his family loves him, though it's partly because Rabastan looks/acts more like his mother.

This brings up another thing that is: he is very much a jewelry person. His suits, expensive but plain, are often decorated and slightly weighted down by layered necklaces with heavier stones and real metals and his fingers are more cold than warm by silver rings. He got his ear pierced at a young age and has so many passed down from his mother, like all his other jewelry. In a way, all of that seems almost like armor that covers/protects him.

Side note: HE WOULD'VE WIPED THE FUCKING FLOOR WITH THOSE SILVER FINGER GUARDS!

He would've HATED cheap jewelry and when mood rings were released in 1975, he choked when he saw Sirius wearing one for the first time. Rodolphus and Regulus almost called a healer because he was turning blue. (Sirius bought more out of spite after that)

Modern Au Rabastan would have a Rolex collection. I said what I said.

I know I bring up suits when wizarding folk don't wear that so, his robes are often plainer (compared to Rodolphus, keep that in mind) but still pretty expensive looking with complex embroidery. His more extravagant robes came from his mother (since I don't think that size mattered all that much between men and women or boys and girls). Cliche moment, but his clothes were very much darker in color, but not always black. More like a darker purple or a darker blue or green, I'm thinking something like what you would get when you use velvet, how colors are almost really shiny or almost black.

I can also see him using makeup! Though very light I think he's very open and knowledgeable about a lot of things since he was basically treated as a doll by his mother's twin sister :D

[everygame]

Star Wars (Arcade)

Developed/Published by: Atari Released: 05/05/1983 Completed: n/a Completion: I’ve played it hundreds of times…

It’s been a tough few weeks here at exp. Towers with a lot of stress and sadness for a variety of reasons (though the book launch has been fantastic: I’m so grateful to everyone who picked up a copy!) I feel pretty bad that I wasn’t able to post an article last week (and even this one is showing up, technically, a day late.) There just hasn’t been that much time–any time–for gaming. So let’s go all the way back to the beginning.

The very first game I ever played.

I’ve talked about this before, but this is the very first game controller I ever held:

It is still one of the coolest things I’ve ever seen. In fact, I’ve often considered picking up a GRS Flight Yoke so I can touch one whenever I want (or even do something absurd like try and play through X-Wing with it or something) but it’s a bit cost prohibitive.

[“Hang on. You’ve been saving your pennies to pick up a XE-1 AJ Cyberstick because it can be set up left-handed and you regret that you never got the first re-issue, and that’s basically as expensive. Consider your priorities, man!”--Ed.]

Wow, rude–though I’d probably use the Cyberstick… more? (Though looking at how well the yoke works with a variety of games on MAME, I'm conflicted.) But to get back on topic, the original Star Wars arcade release is very special to me. At some point in the 80s, but a bairn, on a visit to the Magnum, Irvine’s long gone (long gone–it’s just a field now) leisure centre, my dad sat in the “cockpit” version of the arcade cabinet popped me on his knee, put in 20p and I was transported into Star Wars.

It really had everything. You’re flying an X-Wing towards the Death Star. The music you know is booming, the actual characters from the movie are cheering you on with voice samples, you get to shoot tie fighters, do a trench run and even shoot the exhaust port. Even with your dad gently guiding the controls, it feels incredible. You are never the same again.

And in many ways, neither were video games! Released in early 1983, I think that Star Wars represents the first true “thrill ride” arcade machine in its cockpit form as a game that absorbs the player totally in an (albeit slight) narrative. There had been sit-down arcade cabinets before–Atari themselves had released Hi-Way as early as 1975, but this wasn’t just a racer. 

It’s interesting to consider that this is also likely a key release that proved the value of a licence to a game (surprising, perhaps, as I’ve just written about the two previous Star Wars games and even liked one of them.) Licences had existed since Sega licensed… the Fonz(!?) for an arcade racer, though they’d have existed earlier if Atari had managed to get the Jaws licence (in an amusing example of Nolan Bushnell’s underhandedness, after not getting it, Atari released a game called “Shark Jaws” with “Shark” in tiny letters, and he made sure to release it under a unique subsidiary to not get Atari sued into oblivion.) 

Despite that history, licensed games were few and far between–as likely due to high fees as both licensees and licensors not really having an idea what to do with X or Y concept as a video game. Which is a bit sad, really, when we think of all the late 70s IP we could have experienced in the form of extremely crappy video games. Kojak for the Atari 2600, or something. Though I suppose we did get several The Electric Company games for Intellivision?

There’s a strange sort of luck to Star Wars, too, as it would be released mere months after E.T. The Extra Terrestrial was released for Atari 2600, a game that did so badly despite being licensed from (at that point) literally the highest grossing movie of all time that you’d assume no one would ever try to do something like that again. However, Star Wars had been in development since 1981 and would be released right before Return of the Jedi, hitting the zeitgeist bang on.

(There’s an even stranger bit of trivia here too. Atari CEO Ray Kassar is quoted saying of E.T. “I think it's a dumb idea. We've never really made an action game out of a movie” when a Star Wars action game would have been in development for about a year by that point. Executives: they definitely know what their company is up to!)

Ultimately, Star Wars was the right game in the right place at the right time, and in many ways, the industry has been chasing that high ever since.

Can I say something though?

It’s…

It’s not really that great, is it? It is the prototypical video game thrill ride in its best and its worst aspects. The big, flashy cabinet (designed by Mike Jang, detailed by The Arcade Blogger) masked a game that is both limited and extremely repetitive.

I’m sure like many kids who experienced it for the first time in the arcades (but only briefly), I made sure it was one of the first games I got for my home computer (via the same mail order club I got The Eidolon from, actually) and when you’re faced with just the steak without any sizzle–and the Amstrad CPC port is surprisingly faithful–you are done with the game in about five minutes. Even if you’re literally five yourself.

Because Star Wars really lacks any strong “hook” to the play that you can hang onto. Composed of three segments–the open space shooting gallery, the surface tower battle, and the trench run–each simply plays out for a set length of time that you can’t affect, and each features a very limited amount of patterns. There are no quirks or tricks or surprises in the play; you get a small amount of movement beyond the cursor so can shoot or dodge enemy fire and that's it. After you’ve run through the stages a couple of times you know everything you need to do, you get it completely, and the only thing that keeps you going (or kept me going) is getting to do the trench run, the most fun, interactive and thematic part. But you keep asking: is there anything else?

Though the game does change a bit–the surface tower battle most memorably isn’t in your first loop and uses bunkers in the second loop before switching to towers–there really isn’t. I suspect that high level play of this is largely memorisation, and I suppose you might be able to get into a Pac-Man like hypnotic flow; considering high-score records in this game have ranged from seven hours to five days some people must enjoy it. Though I think the analogue rather than digital nature of the interface makes it a less predictable and therefore less satisfying game to "solve" and for me, returning to it via emulation showed me that really, there’s nothing there. It needs the sizzle to be something—in fact, it shows just how incredible the sizzle was.

That isn’t the end of the world; Star Wars is temporarily fun, iconic and unarguably influential. But if I want to actually enjoy it… I guess I gotta go buy that flight yoke after all!

Will I ever play it again? So… of course I will! I’ll always play the cockpit machine any time I see it. Just the once each time though, for old time’s sake.

Final Thought: As well as a lot of great history on the development of Star Wars, The Arcade Blogger has also dug up some extremely fun videos that reflect just how badly Atari needed Star Wars to be a success, including a bizarre segment on a New York-area Saturday Morning show where they have to plug the machine in after they wheel it out and then the designer, Mike Hally, hasn’t been informed he’s supposed to leave the shot at the end of the segment!

Every Game I’ve Finished 14>24 is OUT NOW! You can pick it up in paperback, kindle, or epub/pdf. You can also support Every Game I’ve Finished on ko-fi! You can pick up digital copies of exp., a zine featuring all-exclusive writing at my shop, or join as a supporter at just $1 a month and get articles like this a week early.

[bitter69uk]

“The movie is a bedroom farce about a writer (Tommy Noonan) and his wife (Jayne) who are on a cruise with their friends, a famous actor (Mickey Hargitay) and his wife (Marie “The Body” McDonald). Tommy and Jayne want to have a baby, and Jayne takes various concoctions cooked up by the ship’s doctor. Tommy, who believes he is sterile, also drinks potency potions. There is a bedroom mix-up, a female impersonator who does Tallulah Bankhead imitations and two short sequences of Jayne thrashing about in bed bra-less, having disturbing dreams. It was because of these sequences that the movie was only shown in “art” theatres. Jet Fore, who was publicist for the movie, had erotic posters of Jayne printed up with a lot of words about the first time ever au naturel for a major star. Each sequence lasts about thirty seconds and bears no relation to the rest of the film which is as clean as a troop of Girl Scouts … In Promises … Promises! Jayne, wearing wedgies and skin-tight pedal pushers, straddles an open door and rubs her calf suggestively up and down against it. One expects the door to moan. It was theatre of sex at its most laughable.”

/ Jayne Mansfield and the American Fifties by Martha Saxton, 1975 /

“It was at this point that Jayne made the most inexplicable, self-destructive move of her career, one that tipped her over from fading star to unemployable dirty joke. Actually, it was two moves: she agreed to star in the cheesy softcore porn film Promises … Promises! and to pose topless for Playboy … Why did Jayne agree to do nude scenes and in such a cheap film? She was not stupid or naïve when it came to show business – she had to have known no major studio would star her after this, and that family-friendly TV would be off-limits. But she had to work, even if she was a big nude fish in a small scummy pond.”

/ Jayne Mansfield: The Girl Couldn’t Help It by Eve Golden, 2021 /

Sixty-one years ago today (15 August 1963) in smut history: the notorious Jayne Mansfield nudie movie Promises … Promises! was released.

[doll-elvis]

✰ New interview with Reeca Smith about her time with Elvis

- I was googling some things about Elvis (as one does) and I randomly came across this interview that was just posted yesterday featuring Reeca Smith Gossan who was briefly involved with Elvis from September 1974-January 1975

it’s only about 40 minutes long but worth the listen in my opinion !! Reeca seems really sweet and is very adamant about defending Elvis and his intentions with her. However if you don’t have the time to listen I did list some of the most important/interesting keynotes below ⬇️

- According to Reeca, the U.S release of the Amazon documentary was delayed not because of Currie Grant’s involvement, but because of the passing of Lisa Marie. This didn’t make much sense to me in regards to the timeline so I’m wondering if the makers of the documentary used that reason as the company line as opposed to saying they didn’t want any legal trouble with Currie/Priscilla. She did say it will be coming out “hopefully soon”, and if I had to guess, I think it will come out either before the release of the upcoming Priscilla movie or after (probably to cash in on the hype)

- Reeca also said that she is involved in an upcoming project with 60 Minutes (Australia’s version, not the U.S) about Elvis, however she gave no other info than the fact that she was being interviewed for it. So I’m not sure if this 60 minutes special will be just about Elvis’ women, or about Elvis all together

- She also talked about how it was Jerry Schilling and Joe Esposito who urged her to initially share her story as they wanted the world to know that Elvis had good intentions with her, despite how their age difference looked on paper

- And for now I’m giving kudos to Reeca because she said she has declined several opportunities to share her story about Elvis over the years as many were going in a direction she didn’t like. For example, she declined an offer to be involved on a project that was named “Elvis: the Cradle Robber”

- Another little random factoid is that while she was working in California, she actually met and became acquainted with Austin Butler’s mother (what a small world 😭)

- As for her relationship with Elvis, she says she first met him in September of 1974, and met up with him throughout that whole month. Then she met up with him again throughout November of 1974. And then lastly in January of 1975

- Their first initial meeting started with a shopping spree where Reeca left with over 2700 dollars worth of clothes, including a rhinestone-denim-suede floor length coat that she still has to this day

- After the shopping spree they went back to Graceland and one of the Memphis Mafia guys brought her down to the TV room where Elvis soon came down to talk with her

- She said they had a very very long talk and that was Elvis was extremely inquisitive, asked tons of questions, and basically wanted to know all about her

- Reeca also talks about how Elvis’ biggest source of happiness was giving other people happiness, and that he almost managed to do so just by getting information from casual conversations

- For example when Elvis was asking Reeca what her favorite animal was, she didn’t know it was because he was planning on buying whatever she said. She loved cats, so Elvis wanted to buy her a white persian cat. Dave Hebler, one of the guys, was assigned with the task of finding a white persian cat but came up short 💀 He settled on a little dog and showed up with the dog at Reeca’s doorstep, courtesy of Elvis

- Another example is that when Elvis and her were talking about his cars, she casually mentioned that she loved Trans Am. Just a few hours later after telling Elvis this, Reeca was asked to close her eyes, and was then escorted to the front of Graceland by Elvis where a brand new Trans Am was waiting for her 👀 Elvis made a pact with her and her parents that the car would only sit in their drive-way until Reeca was old enough to get her license

** Also Elvis was very open and honest with her parents, and personally called them everytime he wanted Reeca to come over. She said he would even let them know what exactly they would be doing, and who exactly was in the house

However Reeca did say there was a few occasions where he wanted Reeca to fly with him on tour but that idea was promptly shut down by her parents

- And when asked about if Elvis was able to go anywhere without bodyguards she talked about how Elvis and her would take off alone and go driving up and down on Elvis Presley Boulevard, without letting any of the Memphis Mafia know where they were going … which of course made them mad as they worried about Elvis’ safety but Reeca said Elvis was never worried

- As I mentioned Reeca was 14 at the time and so she was naturally very curious to know why Elvis wanted to spend time with her, and Elvis’ answer to that was that she reminded him of his childhood and of a simpler time where people didn’t expect so much out of him

** Elvis was very content just to have her company as neither one of them put any pressure on each-other and Reeca said he particularly loved reading the Bible to her, and spending hours just talking

- He was also extremely protective of Reeca and made it known to her and the guys that she was never to have any of the medication/pills the group took, after she had inquired about them from seeing them in his bedroom

- And according to her, it does seem like Elvis intended on having a future with her as they talked about they could be together more when she was older, and how Elvis was going to help her accomplish her dream of becoming a model as he had the connections to do so

- But the relationship/friendship ended up being short lived as Reeca saw that Elvis was going on a downward spiral. Whenever her mom said that Elvis was on the phone and wanting to talk to her, she declined the invitation. She was very young and she talked about how she felt scared and very helpless as there was nothing she could do to stop him

- The very last time she saw him in person was in January of 1975. He made the trip to her house alone, driving his yellow Pantera, and asked her to come out and talk to him at his window. She said she nearly didn’t recognize him as it was clear that his physical and mental health was declining

- After she stopped seeing Elvis, Reeca says that’s when she started hanging out with Ricky and David Stanley more on their own. They were terrible influences on her and were actually responsible for getting 15-year-old Reeca on some hardcore drugs

- Reeca also said that if Elvis had ever found out about what Ricky and David were doing, he would have either kicked them out or killed them (deserved tbh 🤧)

- She gives Elvis credit for being the one to inspire her to turn her life around. Soon after Elvis’ passing she was involved a very bad car accident as she was driving while high, and that became the turning point. Reeca even said if it wasn’t for what Elvis showed her, she would be dead right now

- Reeca was really impacted by Elvis’ passing as he was the first person close to her to pass away, she really struggled with coming to terms with the fact that she would never see him again. And according to her, on the day of Elvis’ funeral, Joe Esposito brought her in for a private viewing of Elvis in his casket which gave her the closure she needed as it became very real that he was actually gone

- When asked about why Elvis felt lonely and could sometimes be unhappy, Reeca said it always felt like Elvis was reaching for something. She also believes that in the later years when his health deteriorated and struggled to make it through concerts, he felt like he wasn’t make anybody happy anymore and that’s what killed him inside

[margridarnauds]

Adaptations are not even overwhelming pro-DracMina tbh. 🤷🏼‍♀️If you look at screen adaptations aka biggest widespread media type of adaptations most recent adaptation 2020 Netflix/BBC by Mofftiss had no DracMina at all. Also TV adaptations like 2002 and BBC 2006 ones had no DracMina as in both these adaptations Mina didn’t have any real genuine interest in Dracula and was his victim. 2012 movie by Argento had no DracMina either cause Drac’s interest in Mina was also completely one-sided and Mina wasn’t into him at all. The only recent example of DracMina was 2013 TV series - so 11 years ago. Before that both DracMina movies are 1979 and 1992 ones respectively- so 45 and 32 years ago.

Like, can we even say that adaptations are extremely pro-DracMina if within 1922–2024 we got only 3 screen DracMina adaptations, and two of them are ancient and most likely older than people who complain about DracMina shippers? Even if we want to count non-screen stuff then Wildhorn’s musical is also 20 years old as it premiered and flopped on Broadway in 2004. So, like 🤷🏼‍♀️

Agreed in the sense that I think that people really, really just....don't think about adaptations besides Coppola's, which gives a VERY slanted view. To my knowledge, we have:

Love at First Bite (1979), which is (1) a parody and (2) set in the modern day, with the modern character as Mina's reincarnation. Notable for being one of the earlier adaptations, but it's barely, *barely* Dracmina.

Drakula - The Hungarian musical, which...I can guarantee that unless the people complaining about this know about Hungarian musical theatre, they're unlikely to know about.

Dracula: The Musical (2010, not the other one) - Replace "Hungarian" with "Swedish."

Lovers of the Night, see above, but "was never released to mass distribution" next to "Swedish."

Dracula, l'amour plus fort que la mort - Replace the above for "French musical flop."

Dracula, el Musical - Replace the above with "Argentinian."

Wildhorn

The 2013 adaptation that most people watch for Katie McGrath as Lucy.

*Loosely* again counting the 1979 movie, because Lucy is taking the role of Mina there.

Bram Stoker's Dracula which....okay, yeah. That's the one most people know.

Fine, for books, I'm including Dracula: The Undead though I don't think any of us actually claim it because it's the "authorized" sequel. (Dacre Stoker when I catch you...)

Since I included Dracula: The Undead, I'm also going to have to include The Dracula Tapes. (1975.)

Dracula 3D - Fine, I'm adding it in.

Dracula: A Love Tale (2025), which looks like it's going to do this. And you know what? The vampirefuckers have earned this, please let it be less sexist about it than Coppola. I hope that it's every bit of pulpy, overly romanticized goodness that I love. I hope they fuck on screen.

Nosferatu - From the script leaks, which. Again. What I'm seeing is very much up my alley, including the terms "horrific union." Peter Eggers, the man that you are. The icon.

Dracula - Entre L'Amour et la Mort - Mixed, but she chooses Jonathan in the end and Drac commits suicide.

Dracula: A Chamber Musical - See above, she chooses Jonathan (again, WHY?) (I'm not commenting on Jonathan in the novel, I'm commenting on the fact that most of these Jonathans have the consistency of bland milk.)

Dracula Untold - In the loosest possible way because there is a woman named "Mina" at the very, very, very end in the modern day. Though it only barely qualifies as a Dracula adaptation.

Meanwhile, for adaptations that haven't (trying to include adaptations that at least very loosely adapt the book, or that have familiar characters/plot arcs, even if that is just "area warlord loses his wife and gets really really mad about it for several centuries", so no Hotel Translyvania...which also isn't Dracmina):

As you said, the 2020.

Dracula (Czech musical) -- This musical was doing many, many things, but this was not one of them.

Last Voyage of the Demeter - I mean. Obviously.

Renfield - See above.

Count Dracula (1977) - Nope

Nosferatu - Nope.

1930s Dracula - Also no.

1958 - He preys on her, but nope. Decidedly not mutual.

Dracula A.D. 1972 - Nope.

Dracula 2006 - Nope.

Dracula 2002 miniseries - He tries to seduce her, sure, and then she shanks him. This is not a doe-eyed Mina swooning over a bad boy.

Bram Stoker's Dracula (1974) - Nope, and makes LUCY the reincarnation of his wife.

Blacula - ...no. The reincarnated love plot is given to Mamuwalde, whose wife Dracula killed. Decidedly unromanticized.

League of Extraordinary Gentlemen - Nope. (I'd prefer it to whatever the fuck was going on with Tom Sawyer.)

Count Dracula (1970) - No (even though I don't understand when Dracula is being played by CHRISTOPHER LEE--who was saying that? It wasn't me, I didn't say anything.)

Count Dracula's Great Love - With a name like that, it HAS to be Dracmina, right, because who else could it be--an OC. They...had an OC. (Arguably Mina is an OC in some of the above as well, but the point stands: not Dracmina.)

The one "West End" Dracula concept album from 2006 that never made it to the West End.

Penny Dreadful - I mean, she gets vamped, but it's hardly a star crossed epic romance.

Dracula: Mina's Reckoning (2023)- Nope. She literally says "I do not exist tae serve onybiddy. I winted whit you had. I’d rather gie up my life than be like you."

Dracula 2000 - Insofar as Mary loosely resembles Mina...no.

Hellsing - No. He might have desired her, but it clearly wasn't more than that and I think the general consensus is he coerced her.

Mina and the Count - Given that Mina is seven and they're best friends NO. They did the 1980s spinoff animated series trend of making villains and heroes friends.

Drakula İstanbul'da - He has some kind of fixation on her, but nope.

And then there's Dracula: The Dark Prince where....yes. And no. And yes. And no. And yes. And--

What I'll point out is that while it looks like I have a lot listed for "Dracmina", a lot of these are pieces of media that are INCREDIBLY obscure to an Anglo-American audience, so most of the people complaining about Dracmina would not be aware of them. They are, likewise, also musicals, because (1) that's my area of expertise and (2) I think musicals lend themselves very well to the kind of heightened gothic romantic atmosphere that people are looking for with a Dracmina bent on Dracula. All told, when we strike off non-English media AND musicals save for the Wildhorn, which can stay, the lack of Dracmina in most widely available Dracula adaptations is notable (especially when you ALSO factor in the various Hammer Horror films where Dracula appears and Mina doesn't.) I'll ALSO point out that actually...most of the films that do it come from *the 1970s* (aka "contrary to popular belief, Coppola wasn't the first", or even the first to do the dead wife plot), whereas post-2013, most Dracula adaptations we've gotten in the Anglosphere have revolved around monstrous vampires. (The Invitation, Last Voyage of the Demeter, Renfield, etc.), perhaps as a reaction against Twilight and its subsequent oversaturation of the vampire market. (Though, it's intriguing because I don't think that Twilight...actually DID impact the number of Dracula or Dracmina adaptations, even in its heydey when people were trying to cash in.)

[midnighttreasureseeking]

James Somerton and the Vampire Chronicles

Ok last thing about this whole James Somerton situation before watching the hbommerguy video.

James Somerton made several videos in which he mentions interview with the vampire and they always rubbed me the wrong way. In the last one, a video of which im still trying to figure out the point, he spends about 20 min trying to tell us that Anne Rice was the first person the portray the vampire as sexy. Which is not true, for example 'The vampire lovers' was made in 1970 and 'The kiss of the vampire' in 1963 (and then i havent even talked about literature). It is not Anne Rice's original idea that vampires can be sexy. But the portrayals of sexy vampires before 1975 were mostly women being sexy, and i guess that doesn't count for him.

The only other things he could talk about was how sexy the main characters are (in a way that made me honestly uncomfortable because he seemed to be undermining the point of the scenes and the show in general) and to give us a general summary of the show he spends ten minutes on.

He goes into the attractiveness of lestat in the book and briefly the show but he goes into no further depth beyond that. And there is a lot to say about attraction in the vampire chronicles beyond that!! Why do we get a ten minute summary of the show instead, where nothing is mentioned to further your point?

Don't get me wrong, Interview with the Vampire is my current hyperfixation and i love hearing about it. But i already knew the plot of the show and you had a point to make, right?? (the point never gets made)

When watching the video back when he posted it i was pretty disappointed that he went into so little depth regarding the show, certainly after the analyses i had already read about it, but now i'm honestly relieved. No doubt he would have directly stolen from our amazing meta creators and analysts in this fandom.

There are more things i can talk about.

His endless praise of Anne Rice as the saviour of all gay people while every other woman (including queer women) is bad for liking and creating content about gay men. (heartstopper, fanfiction, etc.)

How he doesn't mention the racism present in the books while only sparing a sentence or two talking about the handeling of racism in the show. And with that taking a firmly white lens stating that Lestat releases Louis from the shackles of humanity and therefore racism and homophobia. Which, when you watch the show, is obviously not what actually happens. Louis is still factually a black man in the Jim Crow south, he just also has to kill people now and can't talk to his family. Not crazy he doesn't take to vampirism so easily. But James seems to agree with Lestat that he should get over it and have fun.

He does not talk about any of the misogyny present in the books, just not at all. I don't remember him talking about the women in the books or the show at all either...

Now i'm going back to real life where people disappoint me far less

here 5 youtubers that source their content

[edgar-allan-possum]

So! I've been wanting to watch a Godzilla movie for a while now (because I have a Godzilla art book and it feels weird not. actually knowing anything about Godzilla) but I'm not sure where to start! What are your recommendations of Godzilla movies/media?

Thanks for asking! Now, I love most of the Godzilla movies, so I'm going to do a quick rundown of each era and its tone so you can make your own decision on where to start.

EDIT: This got WAY longer than I was planning, so... Under the cut.

Now, the obvious beginning.

The original 1954 Gojira is where it all started, and most of the later movies are in continuity with it, though not always with each other. It's a haunting story about the dangers of nuclear weaponry and, outside of some outdated special effects and science, still holds up well today imo. From there the Showa series of Godzilla movies started.

Godzilla Raids Again, the immediate sequel to the original, had Godzilla fight another monster for the first time. The third movie, King Kong vs Godzilla, significantly lightened the tone and that set the template for the rest of the series. The Showa series are largely kid's movies. That doesn't mean they're bad, but the plots are fairly simple and the focus is mostly on monster brawls, often started by one of a few alien species trying to conquer the earth. The continuity of these is kind of loose, as King Ghidorah dies in Destroy All Monsters but continues to make appearances in later movies. After 1975's Terror of Mechagodzilla, there were no more movies until 1984.

Godzilla, or its American title The Return of Godzilla, ignores the majority of the Showa series in favor of being a direct sequel to the 1954 movie. For the first time since the original, Godzilla does not fight another monster and is instead the main threat. It also returned to a darker tone after the previous movies had gotten progressively goofier. The Return of Godzilla is considered to be the first movie of the Heisei series, despite not being released in the Heisei era.

The Heisei series (also called the Vs series because of how many titles have a "Godzilla vs X" scheme) has a darker tone, with Godzilla himself being more destructive and less of a superhero than the Showa version. Its monster fights are more often beam wars than brawls, due to the comparative stiffness of the new suits making that kind of action difficult. There's also a tighter continuity with returning characters between movies, the ways G-Force tries to take Godzilla down, and the way Godzilla adopts and raises a young godzillasaurus (no really!) as his son and eventual successor. It ended in 1995 with Godzilla vs Destoroyah, as Toho prepared to take a 10 year break while the American company TriStar tried out their own version of the King of the Monsters.

1998's Godzilla, directed by Roland Emmerich, was the first true reboot of the series, ignoring the 1954 original in favor of giving Godzilla a new origin as a mutated iguana. Godzilla fans generally call this version GINO, or Godzilla In Name Only, criticizing the changes to the monster's design and powers, plus making the main existential threat the thousands of Godzilla offspring lurking below New York. A Toho executive said it "took the god out of Godzilla". However, it was better received in areas that hadn't gotten the previous Godzilla movies and is still a pretty good monster flick, imo. It's just not a great version of Godzilla. There was an animated series based on this movie that was pretty good, but after plans for a sequel fell through, Toho took the reins back and produced Godzilla 2000: Millennium.

While still produced in the Heisei era, this period of Godzilla movies is called the Millennium series since it's not really part of the same series as the earlier movies. All of these movies are in continuity with the 1954 original, but the only ones in continuity with each other are Godzilla Against Mechagodzilla and Godzilla: Tokyo SOS, which are collectively called the Kiryu Saga after their version of Mechagodzilla. All the others are standalone films. These movies take a lot of influence from shonen anime and popular action films of the 90s and early 2000s. The standout here is Godzilla, Mothra, and King Ghidorah: Giant Monsters All-Out Attack (GMK), which portrays Godzilla as an undead monster possessed by the ghosts of everyone who died in the Pacific theater of WWII, bent on getting revenge on Japan for its actions in the war. This series ended with the 2004 semicentennial celebration movie Godzilla: Final Wars, after which Toho really did take that 10 year break.

In 2014, Legendary Pictures released Godzilla, the first installment in their Monsterverse series. The second true reboot of the franchise, this movie portrayed Godzilla as the last member of an ancient superspecies that protects the balance of nature. It's sort of a return to Godzilla as a superhero from the Showa era, with added destruction since there's a lot more fighting in cities instead of rocky wastelands. The Monsterverse is also notable for being a major crossover with the King Kong franchise, and is set to continue March of 2024 with Godzilla x Kong: The New Empire.

With the success of the 2014 movie, Toho decided to get back into the game and in 2016 released Shin Godzilla, directed by Hideaki Anno of Neon Genesis Evangelion fame.

Shin Godzilla portrays the titular monster as a natural disaster akin to the Fukushima incident, and is a criticism of the bureaucracy in the Japanese government that places more importance on looking in control than on actually being in control. In many ways it's a remake of the 1954 movie. It's also the first of Anno's tributes to classic tokusatsu and was followed up by Shin Ultraman and Shin Kamen Rider.

The anime trilogy, created by Gen Urobuchi, tells the story of a group of humans who left earth on a colony ship to escape Godzilla, only to find on their return that 20,000 years have passed in their absence and Godzilla has completely conquered the planet. Urobuchi's trademark nihilism is on full display here and I never finished the last movie, so I'll move along rather than continue to talk about it.

Once the Reiwa era started, Shin Godzilla and the anime trilogy were retroactively declared to be the first installments in a Reiwa series of Godzilla movies. The next installment was the TV anime Godzilla Singular Point, which tells the story of grad student Mei Kamino and the members of the Otaki Factory as they face off against the reality warping Godzilla and the hordes of monsters he's brought with him from either the future or another dimension. This one's heavy on the quantum physics.

Lastly, a new movie called Godzilla Minus One is being released this December. It takes place in the 1940s and is the first Godzilla movie to be placed earlier in the timeline than the original film.

No idea if it'll be a good jumping on point or not, but I'm excited for it!

[lesbianwithchainsaws]

trick or treat!

For your treat, Abed and his iconic bi jacket!

For an extra treat, a horror movie fact!

The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (1974) (one of my favourite movies of all time and imo the best horror movie of all time) actually doesn't have a lot of blood in it, despite the title. The film wanted to have a PG rating so used very little blood. It having a PG rating would've meant that it was more likely to get distributed and be more successful (and it was possible for a horror movie to have that rating in the 70s. For example Jaws had a PG rating and was released in 1975). Anyway, it didn't work and the film was ultimately given an R rating. And the lack of blood gives the film this sort of more realistic atmosphere. It was still a pretty major success though!!!

[brigitteblackwood]

hiii thanks for rbing my horror recs post! here's your recs! :)

based on ginger snaps i'd recommend let the right one in (2008), the lure (2015), the witch (2015), the living dead girl (1982), stoker (2013), bones and all (2022) and carrie (1976) about (blood thirsty) outcast girls who want to be loved :(. 

based on hausu i'd recommend suspiria (1977), beetlejuice (1988), eraserhead (1977), the love witch (2016), the cell (2000) and the rocky horror picture show (1975) because they have unique aesthetics that they really commit to, and tetsuo: the iron man (1989), brain damage (1988), possessor (2020), killer klowns from outer space (1988), the machine girl (2008) and videodrome (1983) because they're some of the more unhinged batshit insane movies i've seen.

based on we're all going to the world's fair i'd recommend i saw the tv glow (2024), pulse (2001), skinamarink (2022), may (2002), censor (2021), swallow (2019) and eraserhead (1977) which are all strange but beautiful movies with themes of loneliness. 

based on scream i'd recommend urban legend (1998), behind the mask: the rise of leslie vernon (2006), house of wax (2005), you're next (2011), haunt (2019), the final girls (2015), totally killer (2023) and the cabin in the woods (2011) because they're all about (masked) killers starring cool female characters.

based on the blair witch project i'd recommend the ritual (2017), horror in high desert (2021), the strangers (2008), the tunnel (2011) and them (2006) which are all quite simple but effective horrors about something lurking in the shadows.

hope there's some you haven't seen yet! :)

Thanks for the recommendations! Some of these I've seen already, but there are plenty I still haven't watched. In fact, a few have been on my watchlist for a while, so I'll take this as a sign to get to them soon (or, in the case of Let the Right One In, hurry up and read the book since I want to finish it before checking out any of the adaptations).

I thought it might be fun to share my thoughts about the ones I have seen:

The Witch (2015) - I read The Crucible when I was far too young (I stole it off my parents' bookshelf after I got bored with reading Junie B. Jones) and was obsessed with dark fairy tales about witches living in the forest as a child. So this was very much my shit.

Stoker (2013) - After watching this, I spent so many nights just wondering whether India Stoker and Merricat Blackwood would get along or try to kill each other if they ever met. I still don't have an answer.

Carrie (1976) - Love the use of split screen and Sissy Spacek really only moving her eyes during the attack on the gym. Hate the aggressive male-gazeyness of the locker room scene and the under usage of Amy Irving (I thought she was a interesting choice to play Sue, and I'm forever bitter she and Carrie didn't get to have their confrontation at the end like they do in the book).

Suspiria (1977) - The colours! The Goblin soundtrack! Sure, the actual plot barely makes any sense, but I adore it so much!

Beetlejuice (1988) - The last time I watched this was back in high school, so I should probably give it a rewatch soon. I remember loving the Maitlands and the Deetz family but absolutely hating Betelgeuse; I think he's the weakest character and would argue that you could still get a great story without him, but I understand I'm likely in the minority here.

Eraserhead (1977) - God, I always get so mad on the baby's behalf. He cries all the time! Well, he probably wouldn't cry so much if you didn't leave him lying on a hard table 24/7! 🙄

The Love Witch (2016) - I'm conflicted about this one. I thought it was beautifully shot, and I love anything that pays homage to older films. But since Anna Biller has gone full TERF since its release, I've found my viewing experience somewhat soured (which sucks because I was really interested in seeing her upcoming Bluebeard adaptation before I found out).

Videodrome (1983) - Another one I need to revisit. I'm a big Cronenberg fan, but I don't think I really gelled with this one the first time I watched it. James Wood (🤢) being the star probably didn't help.

I Saw the TV Glow (2024) - I got to see it at my local indie cinema as a double feature with The People's Joker last month! I bawled my eyes out, but thankfully, so did everyone else around me.

May (2002) - She's so me (minus the murder and mutilation, of course).

Swallow (2019) - Has one of my favourite ending shots in film history.

The Cabin in the Woods (2011) - The script was far too Whedon-y for me to enjoy, but I cheered so loud when they unleashed all the monsters on the staff.

Rocky Horror (1975) - I have fond memories of my mother sneaking 14-year-old me and my 10-year-old sister into our first live viewing (I think the only reason she succeeded was because my sister hit puberty early and looked a lot older). We'd known about the show for most of our childhood because both our parents worked in theatre and would often play showtunes around the house, so we'd already memorized most of the songs (minus Touch-a Touch-a Touch Me, which our parents would skip for obvious reasons).

I'd love to hear some of you're thoughts on these films. If you're comfortable sharing.

[astoundingbeyondbelief]

Kaiju Week in Review (May 28-June 3, 2023)

Yukiko Takayama passed away on June 1. She was the screenwriter of Terror of Mechagodzilla, which closed out the Showa Godzilla series in 1975. Given no instructions from Toho besides "bring back Mechagodzilla," she turned in a surprisingly dark work centered around a peaceful dinosaur transformed into a weapon of war and a cyborg girl struggling to hold on to her humanity. She's also one of only two women to receive a writing credit on a Godzilla film, after Kazue Kibo (Son of Godzilla). She brought back both Titanosaurus and Katsura for the 2016 novella 2075: Meister Titano’s Counterattack, which you can read on Toho Kingdom. Rest in peace.

Skull Island co-showrunner and writer Brian Duffield took to Twitter to answer questions about the show, always a difficult tightrope to walk before your show's actually been released. What we learned: the show is set in the early 90s (so well after Kong: Skull Island but just a little before Skull Island: The Birth of Kong... love these distinct titles). Don't expect any returning characters. Season 1 will be 8 episodes long, and while Season 2 seems to be at least partially written, it's not guaranteed to happen.

More Monsterverse characters have joined Godzilla Battle Line: Mothra and King Ghidorah from Godzilla: King of the Monsters. Poor Rodan got snubbed; there's even a space in the artwork for him. Maybe next update. Mothra looks to be a beast, shielding nearby allies from stun effects when you summon her, slowing down enemies with long-range silk, and boosting her player's energy upon death. King Ghidorah is strong, naturally, but probably too costly.

SRS Cinema continues its hot streak by licensing Kadokawa's 2021 blockbuster The Great Yokai War: Guardians. The film bombed spectacularly, which I can't say I fault Japanese audiences for, but it's still a huge get for such a small company. As usual, the Blu-ray release will come first, with a more widely available DVD to follow. No VHS gimmick for this or The Whale God though; guess Kadokawa wasn't a fan.

I continue to be staggered by how many Movie Monster Series figures Bandai is cranking out: here's Mothra from Godzilla vs. Mothra and Larugeus, Kaigel, and Mammoth Flower from Shin Ultraman. For the sake of sculpt quality, maybe they should slow down; the bird looks traumatized and the plant looks like it's rising out of a dung pile.

[rachelbethhines]

60 Years of Doctor Who Anniversary Marathon - T. Baker 1st Review

Disney Time - Behind the Scenes

So for the Third Doctor we looked at trailers and promos for the show itself, well for the Fourth Doctor we’re looking at promotional material and advertisements for things that aren’t related to the show.

See Doctor Who is so popular that the series has been used to advertise various products, charities, PSAs, both for the UK and other countries, and even promote other IPs.

Which leads us to Disney Time. 

Disney Time was an annual special that ran in the UK from 1961 to 1998. And it was literally just one giant advert for Disney each and every year. It would show clips from it’s newly released or up coming movies, including recent re-releases and shorts, and promote it’s other tv shows.  

Each year the segment was hosted by a celebrity who would provide linking segments and explain the context of the clips being shown. And in 1975 that celebrity was Doctor Who.

Not just Tom Baker, who played the Doctor, but the actual character of the Doctor, running around the theater proclaiming how great Disney is, how much he loves classic Disney characters like Donald Duck, and horribly mispronouncing Mowgli’s name.

The in universe explanation being that the Doctor is on vacation. Having just dropped off Harry and Sarah Jane back home at the end of Revenge of the Cybermen, he enjoys his holiday by going to the movies. At the end of his day off he gets a message from the Brigadier which is supposed to lead directly into Terror of the Zygons. So yeah, this is meant to be canon to the show.

The segment has never officially been released due to copyright, but mega fans with home recorders have kindly posted Tom Baker’s clips to youtube.

In order to watch the show as intended, I pulled up the missing clips off of Disney Plus and kept the Doctor Who linking clips up in another tab; switching between the two when needed.

To re-create the experience yourself, this is the line up.

To start everything off, you have

“The Sorcerer’s Apprentice” from Fantasia

The Doctor’s 1st clip

The Clock-cleaners (the short was edited down for the episode, but I don’t know where the cuts were made, so I just watched the entire short) 

2nd Doctor clip

“Blackbeard drives a car and says fuck the police” from BlackBeard’s Ghost (the clip starts with Dean Jones and Blackbeard driving in the car and ends with Dean Jones getting handcuffed) 

3rd Doctor Who clip

"Trust in Me" from The Jungle Book (clip starts with Kaa singing, and ends Kaa being pushed out of the tree by Mowgli. just end when the segment fades to black) 

Back to the Doctor; 4th clip

“The hippopotamus segment” from The African Lion  

5th  intro by the Doctor

“Theodore and Amos try to rob the bank” from The Apple Dumpling Gang (the segment starts with Theodore telling Amos his plan for using a rope to haul himself to the roof, it ends at the next scene with the Sheriff finding the two thieves tied up together in front of the vault. cut the scene before the trial starts)

6th clip for the Doctor

"The Beautiful Briny" from Bedknobs and Broomsticks (start with them meeting Mr. Cod and end as soon as they accept the trophy)

Another Doctor segment, the 7th clip

“A cougar attacks a child” from  Return of the Big Cat (This TV movie is on youtube not Disney+; and clips were actually shown out of order for the episode. first clip time stamp 41:52 to 43:53, and the second clip time stamp is 37:30 to 39:27)

 7th Doctor Who clip

“The puppets dancing” from Escape to Witch Mountain (the scene starts with the kids being stuck inside while it rains. they make the puppets come to life, the villains watch them from a hidden camera, next scene the children discuss running away)

8th Doctor who clip 

“He’s a Tramp” from Lady and the Tramp (scene kicks off with Lady being brought into the pound, ends with the song ending)

Final Doctor Who clip

Of course it’s Disney and Doctor Who, two my favorite things combined so I love it. THe best bits were the songs, but even the segments from ‘lesser’ films proved to be at least interesting given their context.

The Apple Dumpling and Escape to Witch Mountain were the big theatrical releases at the time, hence their inclusion.

BlackBeard’s Ghost, The African Lion, and Jungle Book were all getting planned releases that following year, and indeed the theater where this was filmed was playing Lady and the Tramp at the time. Which is why the episode ended on that segment in particular. 

But most interesting of all was the Return of the Big Cat segment. A movie that I didn’t even knew existed until this marathon.

It’s not a theatrical release, but rather a made for tv movie that was created for Disney’s anthology show The Wonderful World of Color.

Disney made original tv movies from time to time for his anthology and they’re basically the prototype for the Disney Channel Original Movies that I grew up on. With about the same level of quality too.

With new Doctor Who coming to Disney Plus soon, this was a fun look in that I wouldn’t mind revisiting again. Especially since I know where the clips actually begin and end. It took a while to figure that part out.