#this is why The Lord of the Rings is the perfect film

[rabbits-of-negative-euphoria]

Two questions; is your current fixation still Shingeki no Kyojin?

Secondly, if you have time, I want to hear your thoughts about a recurring thought I have. Would you agree that men don't tend to take media made for women seriously? Doesn't matter if it's made by a woman, but media or things in general made for girls. The two main things I think about is the Barbie movie and anything by Jane Austen. A lot of conservative bros I see have a legitimate hate for both of those things and ...Why? I think they're both really important for different reasons and I don't understand the perception of "silliness" around them. I mean, Barbie obviously is silly in a lot of ways but.... It's a Girls Girls movie, like how Braveheart is a Mans Mans movie and also is a bit silly in the way that men are (but it's still one of my, a girls, favourite movies).

Maybe it could be said that girls don't generally understand media made for men either, since a lot of girls hate reading Charles Dickens or Mark Twain. But neither of those author's really made them "for men," it's just that men seem to gravitate towards them -- and at the same time, you don't hear women saying they want to take Mark Twain's jawbone and beat him over the head with it (quote from Ben Shapiro about Jane Austen. He was joking but it still rubbed me the wrong way).

Yes, in the sense that I'm not fixated on anything else, but no, in the sense that I'm avoiding SNK content until I can reread/rewatch before (finally) viewing the finale.

Next, I think men do have a hard time taking women's media seriously, but part of the reason is that media geared toward solely men or solely women isn't generally setting out to be the most serious thing in the first place. I don't know anyone, male or female, who takes chick flicks and action movies seriously, and if we get the sense that a new film leans toward one or the other (even if it doesn't strictly fall into that genre), we reach a conclusion about it in that moment because there's only so much time in the day and money in the pocket we can devote to entertainment.

But then, not taking something seriously is very different from legitimately hating it. I can understand why a man would hate the Barbie movie, especially if he hasn't seen it. Like all feminist media, it's going to be about how all men are oppressors and all women are their victims, right? And that's obviously a despicable message worthy of hatred. And if he's already decided that's what it's going to be about, he's probably not going to change his mind when he watches it, because as I've previously explained, Greta Gerwig failed to send a consistent message, as she has failed to do in all her blockbuster movies. I've described her to my mother as "a conservative trapped in a liberal's body." She just can't reconcile the two belief systems that drive her. (Conservative men aren't the only people who hated it either, I know plenty of conservative women who hated it. And I know conservatives of both sexes who enjoyed it immensely.)

Very rarely do I see a man's film morally disparage women the way that so many women's films do to men, and this probably contributes to more men hating women's films than vice versa.

I think it's true that neither men nor women can fully understand the appeal of media made for the other, but because we are complementary, I do think we owe each other at least an attempt to understand. Which, by the way, is never going to work for you if you've accepted the premise that we are fundamentally the same in spirit and our differences are merely social constructs.

Finally, as concerns Ben Shapiro and Jane Austen, he actually was quoting Mark Twain in that segment, and this is a delightful background of Mark Twain's self-proclaimed--but spurious--hatred of Jane Austen. But for any guys out there who do think Austen is "chick lit," just about every homeschooled boy or homeschooling father I knew loved Jane Austen's work and considered Pride & Prejudice an invaluable tool for the raising of honorable men. Here's an article about why.

[amourcheol]

𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐦𝐛𝐫𝐨-𝐳𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐝

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

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

𝒘 𝒐 𝒓 𝒅 𝒄 𝒐 𝒖 𝒏 𝒕 : 21.7k words

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

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

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

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

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

back to masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ah, the fated question. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His eyes darted to the newcomer. 

They stayed as he beheld you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You smiled at him.

Then dropped the bomb.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“My god, you’re a filmbro!” 

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

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

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

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

There was one, solitary, quiet moment.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A tilt of your head. “Are you lying?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hello again, Mr. Filmbro.”

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

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

He would be cordial—kind.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Shit. 

Maybe his irrational dislike ran further than he thought.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Disney Princess Movie Set—Complete Edition.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“They’re for my ex-boyfriend.” 

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

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

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

“Oh?” Small world. “What’s the name?”

“Kim Mingyu. Do you know him?” 

Vernon Chwe nearly shit his oversized jeans.

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

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

Right. 

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

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

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

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

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

A half-truth—that should suffice. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So much for minding his business.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What master plan?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Absolutely.”

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

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

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

“Did _____ actually?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You, that is.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Vernon visibly shivered. 

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

“Damn it,” he said under his breath. 

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

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

vernon: u dont have to wait till next week 

vernon: ill help u with the plan

There. And now, he shall wait.

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

normal disney enjoyer: wait who tf is this??

Oops. 

vernon: oh mb this is vernon lmao

vernon: from the filmstore

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

vernon: ??? ive said it now tf

normal disney enjoyer: and im happy u have ;)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nevermind.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Of course not. “Sure.” 

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

Sure. “Of course not.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I wonder why,” he muttered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Swear on my life, Mr. Filmbro.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then an idea came into his head. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Tell me.” 

“No.”

“Tell me!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mr. Filmbro…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He blinked back. 

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

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

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

“Is this where magic comes from?”

“What the fuck?!”

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

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

You nearly burst out laughing. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Still, he knew it was now or never.

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

He whipped his head around, anticipating the worst.

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

Oh. Jesus. Christ.

“The nerd from film theory?”

Vernon’s face dropped. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“_____?”

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

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

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

“This is for calling me a stupid bitch.”

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

And run for your life.

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

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

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

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

The car revved to life at your signal.

It was time to get the fuck out of here. 

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

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

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

Just then, you burst into laughter. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You and your fuck ass movie collection…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

A glance at you. “Yep.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How recently are we saying?”

“...yesterday evening.” 

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

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

He then looked at you. “Oh, Jesus.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, Jesus—”

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

Oh, he was stunned alright. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That dread disappeared instantly when Flynn confessed his little secret.

“Eugene Fitzherbert?!” The boy demanded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was then Vernon heard your favourite Disney song.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Standing here, it’s oh! so clear…!”

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

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

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

You were already looking at him. 

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

“I’m where I’m meant to be!” 

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

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

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

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

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

You would have only sang your favourite song to him. 

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

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

“All at once…everything looks different…”

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

“Now that I…see you.”

Shit. You were rather beautiful before him.

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

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

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

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

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

In any romantic comedy, he would have kissed her.

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

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

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

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

“I should make you wait.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What would answering a heated question do any harm?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This time, Vernon was prepared when you kissed him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

VERNON LOST HIS VIRGINITY WITH SHREK PLAYING IN THE BACKGROUND.

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

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

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

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

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

Your rating, on the other hand, differed slightly. 

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

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

“But am I wrong, though?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, both have Sandra Bullock in them…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

mr. filmbro: yo where u at

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

You rolled your eyes.

_____: im coming to save u kitten.

mr. filmbro: :0

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

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

“Where are you, kitten?” you purposely growled, lowering your voice an octave. “Daddy’s waiting.”

“Kitten actually killed himself after hearing that,” was his purposeful monotone. 

“Can you resurrect yourself for me real quick? I’m tryna find where you are.” 

“I’m next to the Oppenheimer popup.” Immediately you tried to find it, scouring through the crowds. “I figured you’d find me easier.”

Scoffing, you ignored the Barbie stalls, walking further ahead. “How very smart of you to wear Oppenheimer clothing while standing next to it. So much easier to find you, isn’t it?”

He did not retort back, instead inciting your excitement. “Wait, I think I can see you…?”

Your eyes darted over to the fresh faces of the Nolan fans, all taking pictures of the cast pop-ups. What you were observing were the men and women, all lack of colour. 

What your gaze ended up on was someone completely different. 

What you were expecting was a mini-Oppenheimer, the too-large blazer, the sashed hat upon pretty brown curls. What you received instead was a boy engulfed in all the pinks of the colour wheel.

Pink was the colour of his top, bubblegum pink the colour of the stringy fur coat sporting over said shirt. Magenta was the colour of his flared trousers, whilst rose was the colour of his converse. What topped off the entire look was the hot pink cowboy hat, sitting perfectly upon his wavy locks, completing his fit—a fit which was perfect for the Barbie movie. 

It was around that point that he caught on to your stare—through the oceans of opposing fans, he, too, finally found you.

Vernon heard your curse murmur through the phone. “Oh my fucking God.”

That was when his own gaze roamed over you, shocked and shameless amongst the crowds. Not that the crowds mattered, not anymore. He was a little nervous, he had to admit it to himself, only because there were so many people, and they were only watching for the fad, for the trend. A part of him wanted just you and him in this midnight cinema, the biggest official date yet. 

But then seeing you here, in all your black-clad, Oppenheimered glory, had stunned him to his core. Although he had specifically brought you here to watch the movie, he had completely expected you to arrive in the pinkmania fit. Because you had kindly booked tickets for his anticipated film, he thought at least to participate in the Barbie craze fit.

It was like instinct, how his steps gravitated towards you, his phone still pressed against his ear, very much like you. You followed him slowly, hearing his ragged breaths through the speaker, watching him walk closer and closer until you both were a mere couple of feet away.

Only then did you drop the call, your hands at your sides as you admired him. It was a while before any of you spoke. 

Like always, you spoke first. “Tell me the fur coat is yours.”

A ghost of a smirk. “Sofia’s.”

“Stealing’s like second nature to you now, isn’t it?” you taunted. 

Like always, he dodged your taunts. “I thought you were gonna wear all pink.”

“I thought you were gonna wear all black.”

He tilted his head. “Well, I thought since we were watching both movies…”

Your confusion was clear, the corner of his lips curling further up. “Wasn’t Oppenheimer first?”

He then went inside his flared trouser pockets, fishing out two tickets—its colours matching his outfit. “I know how much you wanted to see Margot Robbie be silly.” 

“I did!” you exclaimed, taking the tickets from him, admiring how pretty they were designed, especially when compared to the Oppenheimer marketing tickets. In your admiration, though, you noticed a detail which had your excitement faltering. “Wait, are you sure? It says the movie’s at the same time.”

Vernon then checked the timings, mouth parting. “Oh shit. Didn’t think about that.” He shook his head, mouth straightening in a line, dejected. “This is what happens when I try to do something romantic.”

“I have to give points for effort,” you offered, bringing your hands to his wrist. “Hey, it’s okay. Let’s watch Oppenheimer, honestly. Cillian Murphy is still hot when he’s old.”

“No, no,” he countered, clasping your hands on his wrist. “It’s chill.” He glanced down. “Let’s do Barbie first.”

You attempted to argue him on this, but he simply let go of your hands, with his one hand wrapping around your waist, and the other hand’s wrist being checked for the time. You bit back a smile at his mere actions, relishing his fingers skirting under the suit, the waistcoat. “Vernon,” you attempted. 

“_____,” he said back, staring at you with an awe that you would have deserved had you worn a couture gown, not some rented hand-me-downs. 

You knew he would not take no for an answer now. “But what about Oppenheimer?” you asked anyway as the two of you made your way to the cinema. 

Vernon only pretended to think extremely deeply of the situation, making you elbow him playfully. “Now tell me, Dear Disney Hag, how did we enter Mingyu’s house?”

“Why, we walked straight in!” you answered like an over-enthusiastic student, in which he sarcastically clapped for you. 

“Right on.” As you both walked towards the Barbie theatre, the opposing movie was being screened right beside you, where people were bursting in. “See how everyone is walking in right now?” He gave you a knowing glance. 

That knowing glance had you scoffing in excited disbelief. “My God! Look at you, all ready to commit crimes!” you looped a hand around his arm. “I have taught you well, young man.”

He patted your arm. “Mr. Filmbro has come a long way from chatting shit about your movie taste.”

“So you admit it?” you leaned in. “Disney makes better movies than your flop directors?”

“That’s a completely different claim,” he clarified. “My taste in films is objectively better.”

“Still doesn’t change the fact you're watching the Barbie movie before Oppenheimer.”

He rolled his eyes, tugging you closer. “That’s ‘cause I like you a lot, Disney Hag…”

You did not stop your smile from lighting up your entire face. “You’re not the most insufferable filmbro I’ve dated I guess…”

”I better be the last filmbro you date,” he muttered, watching over the last of the crowds, where they now stood, waiting to enter the theatre.

The longer you waited to answer him, the more incredulous his face became, brows knotted in disbelief. You only chuckled, leaning in and pressing your lips upon his. Of course, he was taken aback, but surprises like these were pleasant, welcomed with open arms as Vernon closed his eyes, pulling you in. 

The moment the line started quickening you broke away, only to make sure no one skipped in front of you and him, and thus deal with yours and his passive aggression. You could not help the giggle that escaped you at breaking away from his lips, relishing in his dazed state. 

Honestly—you truly would not have minded being anywhere with him.

When it was finally your turn to go inside the Barbie screening, you held tightly to his hand. “Let’s go, Mr. Filmbro.”

Vernon only smiled. “Right behind you, _____.”

And as the two of you entered the theatre, hand-in-hand, the boy learned that perhaps he, too, would have gone anywhere with you. 

[suzannahnatters]

Many people have asked me why I say THE RINGS OF POWER is far more faithful to the spirit of Tolkien’s work than the Peter Jackson films. Let me explain. No, there is too much. Let me sum up.

(Warning: if you deeply love the Jackson movies, feel free not to read this. I’ve been meditating on this for 20+ years. You are not going to argue me out of any of it.)

FIRST – Jackson is, how shall we put it, not sufficiently familiar with Tolkien or his influences. He repeatedly and stubbornly made mistakes both large and small. Tolkien was a master of medieval military tactics. Jackson... is not. Every military decision taken by the characters in Jackson’s TWO TOWERS is pure stupidity. In Jackson’s RETURN OF THE KING, Aragorn casually beheads the Mouth of Sauron, which is a war crime, since the Mouth is Sauron’s ambassador. Jackson’s Eowyn tries to flirt with Aragorn by cooking him stew, even though she is a noblewoman from the warrior class who was raised to act as a civil and military leader in a medieval-coded society where cooking is not intrinsically linked to femininity. Jackson’s Theoden, grieving over the death of his son, utters the words “No parent should have to grieve the death of their child,” which is the kind of sentiment only imaginable in a society where infant mortality and death in battle is a good deal rarer than among the Anglo-Saxon Cossacks during the War of the Rings. Jackson’s Dwarf women are reduced to a punchline; Tolkien’s were miners, craftspeople and adventurers in their own right.

I won’t go on. BUT I COULD.

SECOND – One problem that by itself ought to have disqualified Jackson from adapting Tolkien, is that he is incapable of depicting or even understanding goodness the way Tolkien does. This deeply pervades all Jackson’s films. Jackson’s idea of goodness is ethereal, anaemic, and ineffective before gross and creepy evil. His Elves are not the vivid, passionate, hearty warriors Tolkien wrote: they pluck mistily at harps and feed on spinach. (TROP has Galadriel scaling frozen cliffs and Elrond splitting boulders. That’s FAR more like it).

Tolkien insisted on the concept of Faerie as being foundational to his work. This is a difficult concept to explain. It meant the beauty and glory of Valinor, yes. But it also meant an element of otherworldly, yet immanent, beauty and glory in Middle Earth itself. This is a good summary:

“Faerie may be roughly translated as Magic, but not the vulgar magic of the magician; it is rather magic "of a particular mood and power," and it does not have its end in itself but in its operations. Among these operations are "the satisfaction of certain primordial human desires" such as the desire "to survey the depths of space and time" and the desire "to hold communion with other living things."” (Source: https://www.ewtn.com/.../tolkien-and-the-fairy-story-4094)

When Lewis said of THE LORD OF THE RINGS, “here are beauties that pierce like swords”, that’s that he meant. Peter Jackson had no sense of Faerie. When, at the end of his trilogy, he has his characters get on a ship to go to the Undying Lands, he makes it a metaphor for death. Death! Tollkien’s Valinor isn’t the afterlife; it’s the earthly paradise of his world. Jackson cannot imagine an earthly or material locus of goodness.

This affects many of his narrative decisions. In the book Faramir resists the temptation of the Ring handily. Jackson’s Faramir succumbs to the power of the Ring and has to be scared straight. Jackson justified this by saying that Faramir needed to fall to the Ring’s temptation so that it remained an effective narrative threat. Basically, having failed to grasp the importance of Tolkien’s vision of powerful and present goodness and beauty in the first place, Jackson believed he needed to further degrade it for the sake of the story.

Obviously, THE RINGS OF POWER isn’t perfect, and still has plenty of time to betray its early promise. However, so far its showrunners appear to have a far better grasp of Faerie, beauty, and goodness than Jackson ever did. Its vision of Valinor is ineffably beautiful while still home to flawed living people. Its Elves are noble, ceremonious, dignified, warm, and grave. It is also actively pursuing Tolkien’s original themes. Elanor has a discussion of Providence that contains intentional echoes of “The Shadow of the Past” in LOTR, but there are also meditations on art and mortality that show an attempt to engage with themes Tolkien himself said were foundational to his entire work (Letter #131). These themes may yet be mishandled: but THE RINGS OF POWER has clearly at least READ the assignment. (Jackson’s films, by comparison, did dumb stuff like having Theoden, who in the books is simply dealing with depression, be literally possessed by Saruman and in need of exorcism “because exorcism is a Catholic thing and Tolkien was a Catholic, lol!”)

Jackson didn’t completely obscure the beauty and goodness of Tolkien, and I’m aware that THE RINGS OF POWER could not have happened without his pioneering and often sacrificial work in adapting the story to screen. I don’t want to discount the things that are good about his intentions, his work, and his love for the source material. But watching THE RINGS OF POWER was the moment when 20 years of frustration boiled over as I realised that, contrary to what I’d always told myself, it WAS possible to do Tolkien more justice than this. So far, I’m very pleased, and I’ll be waiting for future seasons with bated breath.

[s4turns-st4rs]

soft launch

🎧 ﹐ ♡﹒a callum turner social media au ﹒ ᶻ ᶻ

𝐚/𝐧: I’M BACK 🎉🎉 got a few more social media fics in the works, so look out for those. anyway enjoy lovelies xxx

in which: the two of you can’t keep it quiet for long…

faceclaim: ruby cruz <3

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: none!

𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠: belinda says - alvvays

callumturner

liked by y/n_y/l/n, austinbutler, and 636,719 others

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callumturner

liked by y/n_y/l/n, and 873,297 others

callumturner loser <3

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y/n_y/l/n

liked by callumturner, leahsavajeffries, and 735,826 others

y/n_y/l/n finished filming with @.leahsavajeffries you’re a star

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y/n_y/l/n

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y/n_y/l/n happiest of birthdays to my most wonderfulest bf !! you mean the world to me my love <3

callumturner love you angel ❤️❤️

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username49 they’re so perfect for each other i’m losing my mind

[danjaley]

Adventures in Reading

The Hobbit - An Unexpected Journey

My first encounter with the Hobbit was when I was about ten years old and on a train-journey. My mother handed that pink edged book to me and said this was a good one, I'd enjoy it. So I looked at the cover and wondered which of these unpleasant-looking creatures was supposed to be the "Hobbit". To make things worse, the name Bilbo reminded me of a puppet-play by the Augsburger Puppenkiste "Bill-Bo und seine Kumpane" (about a gang of robbers), which I didn't enjoy. Although I usually think the world of the Augsburger Puppenkiste, and if they'd adapted the Hobbit, it would have been perfection.

Then I read the first few pages. A dwarf rang at the door of the "Hobbit". Then another dwarf. And another. And another. I did not notice anything humorous about it. I handed the book back and said it was a stupid book.

I don't have that copy any more - these are covers reprinted in the German Annotated Hobbit. It was only there that I found out, the cover art was originally supposed to look like the one on the left. Which at least has a unifying concept. But I have to confess I never liked anything by Klaus Ensikat.

The first thing by Tolkien I thoroughly enjoyed were the Father Christmas Letters, as an adorable tiny boxed set.

In my early teens, the Lord of the Rings movies came out, so it became common knowledge that this work existed, and The Hobbit was a prequel to it. My mother loves boxed sets, so of course we also have one of the Lord of the Rings+Hobbit. When I was small I always wondered why they put a small figure there instead of 0. Because I had seen those spines all my life, declared "a book for grown-ups" I never thought of them as something I might actually open and read. Since my best friend at the time "read Tolkien", I wanted to give him another chance, so I read Tuor's Arrival in Gondolin. Which is not exactly the best thing to start with.

There came the day my mother played a CD in the living-room, which I wanted to hear, but without anyone noticing I was listening. My relationship with music was even more complicated then, than it is now. So I picked up the first volume of The Lord of the Rings, which was lying about, and that was when I finally got it.

After this revelation I did read The Hobbit, but again I had tackled it wrong. Directly after The Lord of the Rings, I found it rather disappointing. It had one thing in common with Wuthering Heights: At 50% I thought, okay, all the famous quotes have been delivered, what on earth are they going to do with the rest of the book?

As an aside, my mother also owns this extraordinary English copy, which came out with the old animation-movie. That was my first read-through in English, but nowadays I have a reading-copy with all the appendices.

Then came the year 2012, in which the world did not end, but it was one of the worst years I ever lived through. It was also the year the first Hobbit movie was released. I remember thinking at the time, if I have nothing else to look forward to in this life, at least I can look forward to another two films like this. Gawd, I'm glad I was wrong! I hated part 2 and 3!

But that was when I finally got into reading The Hobbit and enjoying it. I remember how amazed I was how much the dwarf-scene made me laugh (with a clear memory of that train-experience). I had discovered that the university-library owned an old edition of the Annotated Hobbit, and I could read this in my breaks. Thanks to the movie, there was also an affordable, and much updated edition of that work in German (on the right).

But actually I also own it in English now, because the German can be all over the place, trying to squeeze poems and their translations into the margins. But then the German edition has an extra focus on the Hobbit's printing history in Germany. And that's how I discovered the beauty of annotated editions. It's a story-book, but with lots of stories about the story. I particularly love when stories in books develop after they have been published, like the famous riddle-scene between Bilbo and Gollum.

And so I wrote my own annotated edition of a book (currently secret, hopefully to be published over the next years).

[emeritus-fuckers]

How about some head cannons for how the papas would propose/ how they would be at their wedding? i love your writing so much🫶

For the wedding please see this post - Nyx

Papas Proposing to their S/O

Primo

Primo has an old family ring that he's been saving for someone special. It's beautiful and as he looks at it, he thinks it could have been made for you. The ring has sentimental value to him so it's a huge sign of his love to give it to his beloved.

With the help of the Ghouls he spends the day making the conservatory look perfect. It's already romantic in there, with lots of beautiful flowers growing there. To add to this there are now fairy lights everywhere and candles burning and rose petals scattered on the floor.

There are blankets and comfy cushions brought in and a projector set up with a screen. He also has your favourite drinks and snacks ready.

He brings you in there just after night has fallen, hands over your eyes. You trust him completely even as you step forward blindly.

Then he removes them and you see what he has done with a happy gasp.

He puts your favourite film on and during it he is holding you close and stealing kisses, but you can tell he seems a little nervous.

As the credits roll he gets on one knee before you pulling the ring from his pocket. "Cara, my love, would you do me the greatest honour and be my wife? I promise to always love and care for you until I go to our Dark Lord."

You say yes and the rest of the night is spent dancing with him in the greenhouse, your own private space away from the rest of the world.

Secondo

He already gives you a lot of jewelry, so you don't originally think much about seeing a ring box somewhere in his office.

He doesn't mention it and neither do you. You just sorta forget about it after a few weeks.

Until one evening he takes you out on one of your many dates.

You don't really think much about it. It wasn't uncommon.

It's all about you.

He takes you to your favorite restaurant and all your favorite places in general... except it's just the two of you. Everywhere.

The restuarant? Just you two and the staff.

Theater? The actors perform just for the two of you.

If you prefer the cinema, then naturally you two are the only people there.

He won't explain to you why that is.

Until you two go on a walk at your favorite beach.

It's only there that he removes his sunglasses (about time, the sun was already beginning to set) and gets on his knee, proposing to you with a beautiful silver ring with two small black diamonds and one large tsavorite garnet between them.

Of course, you said yes.

Terzo

They have been fretting over this night for months.

It took a month to get the perfect ring commissioned. Several to plan the perfect night.

You were lead by Omega to a limousine and driven to the first restaurant Terzo took you to: a family run Italian restaurant.

The first song you both ever danced to was playing on the speakers. The lights were down low and extra romantic. You both had the place to yourselves.

He smiled brightly as you walked up to the table, admiring the outfit you chose. Pulling out your chair for you and stealing a kiss.

They seemed very focused on talking about their favourite memories with you. Your favourite dish was brought out along with his…though he didn’t eat much.

His was boxed up as dessert was brought out, though he asked you to close your eyes.

When you opened them? A ring box made out of your favourite dessert held the ring he had made for you. They were on one knee with tears in their eyes.

“Cara Mia…my morning star…Will you do me the honour of being mine eternally?”

Copia

Copia seems much more excitable and nervous than usual. He takes you out for the perfect meal then you two go home arm in arm.

He then sugests you play a video game, he hands you the controler and you swear he's almost shaking. "I made it for you amore. I hope you like it sì?"

You look at him with a happy confused smile on your lips, then you play the game. It's rather like the escape the ministry game except it's escaping his rooms. There are clues you have to put together and around the rooms you find photos, tickets and other little reminders of all the fun times you've had together.

When you put it all together you read the message out loud "will you marry me..." you mutter, then it hits. You turn to him and of course you agree.

"Sì?" he says so happy but still shocked. You nod then he gives you a quick but passioante kiss. "ah right I hope err this next part works" he gives you a sheepish grin then calls over one of his rats called Biscotti.

When Biscotti curls up between you two you see the ring on his collar. It's a beatiful gold ine with a pale blue diamond in the middle framed by smaller clear diamonds.

Copia careuflly places it on your finger then after Biscotti jumps out of the way, pulls you to him and kisses you again, long and slow.

Old Nihil

One day he just figured that with his age, he might as well marry the person he adores so much.

Especially since it would also help you once he would finally die.

He wasn't too original with it, though.

He was just watching you like he usually would and one day he takes out a golden ring with five white diamonds, a large one in the middle and the smaller ones on its sides, framing it nicely.

He simply asks if you'd do him the honor of becoming his spouse.

Of course, you say yes. Cuddles ensue.

From now on, he stares at you even more.

He can't get enough of his stunning fiance.

Young Nihil

It would take a lot to get this man to marry you, but then again you are the perfect one for him.

He isn't really sure how to do this, he's already brought the ring. He wanted to get you something perfect so he asked your best friend for some rough guidance. The ring he finds just so happens to be exactly like the one you dreamed of. The one you described to your best friend when you confided in them that you thought Nihil would never propose.

Neither did he, he felt sick with nerves. He loved you but he knew how useless he could be sometimes, and you were just so clearly the right one for him.

You'd been out for a few drinks together and were walking back along the river. You notice out of the corner of your eye Nihil constantly resting his hand on his jacket pocket and then relaxing again.

You just assumed it was a stash of something for later but then he stops dead and turns to you. The river glimmers with the lights of the city in the background.

"I've been wanting to say this for so long, but I don't know how so I'm just gonna..." he drops to one knee "would you marry me?" He sees your shocked expression and just panics. "Babe I love you, I know I'm not perfect and I know that..." you silence him with a kiss and then tell him that of course you'll marry him.

You've never seen Nihil so happy and when you get back to his rooms you see that he has actually planned ahead. Rose petals scattered over the floor, a bottle of your favourite drink and the room surrounded by flickering candles.

~

Papa I, IV and Young Papa Nihil written by Nyx.

Papa II and Old Papa Nihil written by Nosferatu.

Papa III written by Death.

Taglist: @charlie-is-a-menace @copias-fluffy-asscheeks @randodummy @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @calliedion-dungeon @randominstake @callmeicaro @thecuriouss @dio-niisio @firefirevampire @mybotanicaldemise @emo-mess @natoncesaid @sirlsplayland @thatoddboy @ouijaboardemo @lightbluuestars @strawberriiblossoms @z-xmyers @dark-angel-is-back @strawberriiblossoms @choco-meow69

[three-bunnies-in-a-trenchcoat]

The Dark Lord can never win against The Chosen One.

(Full fic below the cut, please check the ao3 link above for full tags before reading)

The first time, after their escape, isn't so serious. 

They've stopped at some sort of diner in a small town near the latest website they've destroyed; Dark can still see the smoke in the distance, but it doesn't seem like anyone else in the diner has noticed, although both of them are getting eyed at suspiciously by the owner (and neither of them have any money, but she's sure that problem will solve itself with a well placed ball of fire or two.)

Chosen goes at the food like she's had nothing to eat in the last decade (which isn't true, because she does this every time). 

He reaches for Chosen's last onion ring– smacked away. Reaches again, glared at with red tinted eyes. A third time, and she jumps across the table to grapple with Dark.

It's a lighthearted tussle, no powers involved, and Chosen pulls her into a headlock within a minute, pulling her down next to her on the booth.

"Choooo." He whines, kicking at her knee. "Come on, let me go."

Chosen ignores her, and starts taking stuff from his plate, which is an indignity he will not let go unpunished–

Chosen catches her fist and gives her an unimpressed stare. The rest of his food quickly falls prey to her appetite. Dark weeps internally and vows vengeance.

---

The second time, it's a bit more serious.

"Teach me how to do that." Chosen says bluntly.

"Uhh." Dark says, letting the end of the pen she was chewing (oh fuck, she's not going to be able to use it again, Cho's rubbing off on her) fall out of her mouth. "Teach you what?"

"Those energy ball things you like to throw at buildings."

"I… don't know if I can?" His powers came to him instinctively, the same way he knew Chosen's did to her. "Cho, why do you even want to know?"

She shrugs. Stick of few words, that one. Not like Dark minds; she's plenty good at filling the silence.

She sets down her newspaper (she liked to keep up on the reporting of their crimes; the crosswords were fun, too) and gets up, stretching. 

-

"So, uh." Dark bounces on her feet. They've relocated outside, to make sure their meager belongings don't get destroyed. "You've just got to, uh…" She trails off as Chosen gives her a disbelieving look. "What? Come on, Cho, I've never taught anyone anything before!"

"Describe how it feels, maybe."

"Uh. Feels like I've got big ball of fuck off in my hand?" 

Chosen crosses her arms and taps her foot.

"It's kind of… itchy." He finally says. "Especially when it's bigger or slower. Like I'm drawing the energy out of myself and it doesn't like it."

She nods. 

"And it's… cold."

"No, it's not." Chosen says immediately. 

She huffs. "To me it is, and that's the important thing, isn't it? So what if it's hot when it explodes?"

She rolls her eyes. “Just stop. I’ll figure it out.”

“Well, fine, but–”

Chosen closes her eyes and pointedly turns away.

The first attempt splutters out miserably. The second explodes directly into her face as soon as it's formed. The third succeeds, and Chosen looks at it with a brief moment of hesitation before awkwardly throwing it down into the street. 

(It explodes, and a dozen car alarms go off in perfect unison.)

She watches Chosen do it a few more times, then lazily tosses a ball of fire at her before taking off into the air.

"Come on!" She says as Chosen splutters and gives her an affronted look. "Experience is the best teacher, or whatever! Fight me!"

Chosen rolls her eyes. “Is that really necessary?”

“Probably not! Let’s go!”

It's a fight that's in Dark's favor– Chosen is trying to fight only with the energy balls, which slows her down and leaves openings that Dark has learned to cover, but she does gradually get better.

Eventually– a ball of fire is tossed her way, which she easily dodges– right into the path of an energy ball, staggering her enough for Chosen to appear at her side and punch her. The surprise and the force of it is enough to send her flying back through the wall of a nearby building.

Dust and a few small pieces of rubble fall onto her. She squints up at the ceiling, seconds before it collapses halfway onto her.

…Goddamnit. She’s not going to be finishing her crossword today.

---

The third time they fight, it's against her will.

There's been an itch steadily building in the back of his mind all day– usually their usual brand of wanton destruction, as he had heard a reporter call it once, would satisfy it–

("Aren't wontons a kind of food?" Dark asks.

Chosen frowns. "I would never destroy food.")

–but it's not working today. No matter what she does, the itch doesn't go away, until it's all she can think about.

Chosen finally notices, a stupid little frown of concern on her face, and it's all she can do to not punch it off. "Are you alright?"

"What's it matter to you?" He snaps– physically snaps, sharp teeth clacking loudly. 

"I'm just worried–" 

And something breaks– Dark lunges for her, fire already cupped in her hand. 

"What the– Dark?!" Chosen weaves out of the way, and ducks under her next swing. "What are you doing?!"

"What I should have done when we met!" 

The next blast of fire catches the edges of Chosen's long, long hair, setting it alight, which is honestly a great look– if only the rest of her was on fire.

He startles for a second at the thought, how full of malice it is, and it gives Chosen the opportunity to tackle him to the ground, hands clamped around his wrists and ice spreading onto his arms.

Unlike Chosen, he can only channel his powers through his hands, a task that's nearly impossible with how she keeps freezing him back over when he breaks the ice.

Dark snarls, writhing under her hold and biting at her. "Let me go, you f–"

"Not until you calm down." She said. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"There's nothing fucking wrong with me!" 

Chosen looks at her skeptically, like she wouldn't know her own mind, wouldn't know if something was wrong. 

He keeps flinging insults at her, but Chosen has always had thick skin, and eventually she just looks away, like Dark is so far beneath her that she doesn't even need to watch him to keep him restrained.

"You're a real bastard, aren't you, Chosen One, thinking you're better than me?" She growls. "Well, at least I wasn't the one enslaved for years!"

Chosen flinches. Dark knees her in the gut, slides away a few inches, but it's all the leeway she gets before she's held down even harder.

"Awfully pathetic, aren't you? Your creator hated you, and the only person you could ever get to like you was your enemy, how messed up is that?!"

"Shut up." She says quietly. The ice spreads further up her arms.

"Scared of a few words, Chosen One?" She croons. "You should be. It's the truth, after all."

"Shut up!"

She's slammed down against the ground; her head rings, and the taste of blood fills her mouth from where she bit her tongue. 

The pain doesn't bother her, though, and as Chosen glares down at her, flames flickering around her mouth, all she does is laugh.

-

Eventually, her struggles to escape weaken, until finally she blinks, and it feels like a cloud has lifted from her mind.

"What the fuck was that?" She says, voice hoarse. 

"Finally back to normal?" Chosen looks and sounds tired– more tired than he's ever seen her, except for the day they escaped the PC.

"...I think so." 

Chosen pulls away, standing up, and Dark pushes herself up on her elbows.

"I'm sorry for… what I said earlier." Everything seems tinted in a red haze, so filled with hate that Dark can't even believe it came from her.

"It's fine." Chosen says, offering her a hand up. 

Even Dark can tell it's not. She doesn't say anything, though, and just accepts the offer.

-

Two days later, Dark hooks himself up to a computer and finds the code still lurking in him.

---

The fifth, sixth, tenth, fifteenth, twentieth, fiftieth, hundredth time they fight, she still loses, every time.

She's gotten close to winning plenty of times, sure– but at the last second before she can claim victory, some absolute bullshit happens, and Chosen wins.

Chosen doesn't say anything about it– Dark doesn't even think she noticed, because Chosen is dense as hell all the time. It's both one of her best and worst qualities– best because Dark can just do whatever he wants, worst because she doesn't notice when what he wants is to claw her face off.

(Which he can do, now; he'd found this armored glove– vambrace? Bracer? Whatever– with claws on the fingers that he hadn't been willing to take off.

Chosen had said that, with the long coat he had, it made him look like a proper Dark Lord. Then she said that of course, that didn't make him look any less lame, so he had tackled her.

He lost that fight.)

She's glad she always loses those fights, when she loses control. She doesn't want to hurt Chosen– she's not just her friend, she's her partner.

(And neither of them can think family, because of the creator that forsook them.)

Over the years, without another outlet for destruction (retiring to the countryside– it's so ridiculous that Dark still laughs at it sometimes, but he figures after everything Chosen deserves whatever she wants), the fights where Dark isn't himself increase, but her proficiency at handling him does too.

She had managed once to hack into her code to try to get rid of the compulsion to kill Chosen, but it hadn't exactly worked out– Chosen had found her unconscious and twitching, the computer she was using on fire, and had told her in no uncertain terms not to do it again.

It hadn't all been in vain, though– now, at least, she can sometimes keep her head even as her body fights. It unnerves them both, but it's a better alternative to have kept saying horrible things to the only person she cares about.

(It makes her easier to subdue, too– no strategy behind her attacks. It's the best either of them can hope for.)

---

The last time they fight, it's a death match.

None of the cloudy haze of hate that Dark has long since learned to identify is present. This isn't a forced fight, or one for fun. Something is different, and she can tell that neither of them will make it out unscathed– or at all.

And the confusing thing about it is– for the last few years, they've lived a happy life, a quiet life, together, but it still wasn't all that long ago that they were burning down sites. She doesn't understand why Chosen is being so vehement about this– especially not since her first victim is their fucking creator.

(And she's learned a lot, over the years, of just what exactly had happened to Chosen on that damned PC, how it wasn't even a fraction of what happened to her, who was made for a singular purpose to eventually be discarded.)

"Why did you go help that bastard?!" He shouts, throwing Chosen against the rocks. "Why would you side with him over me?!"

Chosen stays infuriatingly silent. 

"Did he do something to you?" Her heart stutters. "Did– Are you–"

She shakes her head; it fills Dark with relief, and then another flood of anger. "Then why did you fucking do it?!"

"He didn't deserve my help." Chosen finally says, and it's the first thing she's said all day that Dark agrees with. "But what if there were more sticks there, who couldn't escape?"

"So? Killing people has never bothered you before!"

"I'm tired of death, Dark. Why do you think I wanted us to stop?" She gestures back to the hole in the sky. Dark nails her with an energy ball and she shrugs it off. "There were children there! Even you tried not to kill children!"

"'Even you'?" She growls, sending a wave of fire at her with a sweep of her arm. "Do you think you're so much better than me, Cho? You've destroyed and killed just as much as I have, and I know you enjoyed it too!"

"That's not what I–!"

"It sounds like that's what you meant!"

They go tumbling through one of her portals, and Chosen, used to desktop fighting more than she is, takes the upper hand. 

Once they're out, he obscures her vision with the smoke of an explosion, and with a final explosive move, Chosen is thrown deep into the water. He wipes his eyes (probably just damp from the spray having splashed in his face), and heads back to his control panel. She won't stay down long.

(Chosen is acting like she's the one betrayed, the one wronged, but she was the one who extended her hand, who convinced Dark to join her side against their creator.

…She'll regret this.) 

The vira-bracelets snap in place over her wrists, and she flexes her fingers as a surge of new energy rushes through her, and up into the sky.

She flicks her wrists, and two crackling blades of virus filled energy form. 

-

His side aches with pain. Between Chosen and his creator, they had gotten some good hits in, and unlike Chosen, he didn’t have the luxury of being able to heal himself– but neither has Chosen, with his relentless attacks.

“It didn’t have to come to this.” Chosen says, pushing against the spiders’ hold. 

“Of course it did.” She says, getting ready to reignite her blades. 

An orange stick jumps down in front of them, and they both recoil in surprise.

“You were the one that summoned him, weren’t you?” He orders his spiders away, giving the stick a scrutinizing glance. 

“Well, it wasn’t me in part–”

Four more sticks jump down and settle into fighting stances. None of them say anything, but the yellow one gives them an admonishing glance. The red one is the first to leap into action– and the first to fall.

“These are the kids, I’m guessing?” She says to Chosen as she kneels over his body. “Well, I guess you were wrong about me.”

She doesn’t say anything, looking away. Dark kicks the body away, and dismisses his blade. None of them are enough of a threat for it.

The blue one rushes her first, followed swiftly by his friends, but even with four of them, they’re hardly doing anything to her and are swiftly knocked down.

The claws of her gauntlet dig into the yellow one's throat. She seems to realize that her life, at least, is forfeit, and kicks weakly at Dark, pleading for her friends to run. 

It's annoying. She makes sure she dies last.

The orange one– and what an idiot, still standing here even after their friends have disintegrated– looks back at Chosen, swarmed by spiders, like she can do anything. 

"Get out of here." She rasps over the spiders' skittering. "You don't owe me anything–"

Dark punches her blade through their stomach. "They're one of his, aren't they? The others weren’t."

(They must have been doing something, to have survived unchained for this long– or maybe he's just gotten better at programming loyalty.)

Their head lolls back, and eyes filled with pain and hatred glare at him. 

"What's your name, huh?" She asks while waiting for them to die. "What role did he give you?"

Their breath is ragged as they sink to their knees. "Orange."

She laughs, and lifts them back up to see their face. "That's it? Orange? He really did learn his lesson, huh?"

An elbow slams into his face.  He gives them an unimpressed stare, and flips them down to the ground, stabbing them again. They're tougher than any stick she's fought besides Chosen– held out longer than any of their friends, that's for sure.

They push at him, one final protest, and Dark takes a moment to study their face. They're only a little younger than he and Chosen had been– but the fury in their face is an equal to what theirs had been.

It occurs to her that from their perspective, she's the one taking the role of their creator, and she can't stand to see them any longer. 

She throws them up into the air, and within seconds injures them enough that even with their strange hardiness they won't survive long, and sends them crashing into the cliff with enough force to make a crater.

She looks down at Chosen. She's done enough damage and the spiders have forced enough of the virus into her that she's struggling to heal herself. She'll be easy prey now.

He opens the portals, flicks his wrist again, and his spiders fly toward them. Green sparks flit along the edges of his vision, and it's all the warning he gets before an orange blur slams into them, and then him.

Orange– and that can’t be their real name– tosses and punches him with a speed and strength that not even Chosen possessed. It hurts, in not even a way that his fight with Chosen and their creator had, something in his torso cracking with a sickening sound. 

She skids on the water, calling her remaining spiders; they’re decimated in a fiery green explosion in seconds, but it gives her enough time to get behind them. She throws them away and turns to flee, something she’s never once done.

A rock slams into her back. Something else breaks, and she freezes, gasping for breath. The stick flies up to her side, hitting her with a series of blows that leaves her stunned and reeling.

He falls in slow motion, holding just enough control to keep him from plummeting into the ocean but not enough to stay upright. Just barely, from the corner of his vision, he can see Chosen staring at them in horror.

What did you think would happen? He thinks. One of us was always going to die here, and it was always going to be me. I can never win.

Then the laser hits, and she thinks of nothing more but pain.

[quillofspirit]

2023 fic recs

If there's one thing to know about me, is that I love to read! and I love to share the good fics, so I figured I would put them all on one list💚

pssst! it's my first time doing anything like this, so if you have recommendations for the format, please do leave them in the comments or drop me a message! thanks xx

Key 🍬 fluff 🧯 spicy 🌡️ smut ⛈️ angst 🌪️ all

For people I have tagged, please let me know if there is anything you’d like me to add or remove — like a link to another account. It’ll be my pleasure☺️

Lord of the Rings (and related)

⛈️🧯Fuck the Forbidden pt. 1 by @entishramblings

Boromir x mermaidfem!oc Teens and Up but read the warnings carefully 9,500 words

Now I want mermaids in everything. why aren’t there mermaids in everything? The descriptions are so well done, everything is so vividly easy to visualize, oh I just loved it.

I am so hyped for pt 2!!

🍬⛈️ Healing Touch by @ass-deep-in-demons

Boromir x fem!oc Teens and Up 4,350 words

My film studies degree was very happy about the descriptions of movement in this one - it’s a little specific but hear me out. It’s much easier to see the actors playing the scene when it’s described this well! THAT ENDING, I have to say I joined Legolas, and I don’t have excuses.

I cannot wait to read the rest of the adventures of Joanna!

🍬 I Might Need to Kiss You by @fizzyxcustard

Thorin Oakenshield x fem!reader 400 words

I was squealing, this is so sweet. like the perfect little pick me up when you need a reminder, and Thorin is nothing if not a good king to his subjects 😇

🍬 Sweet Conversations by @glassgulls

Haldir x fem!reader Teens and Up 5,360 words

did I almost break my mouse when I clicked on this? noooo

Would I do it again? approximately 5 times since ☺️

Who doesn’t love sneaking around and kissing pretty elves, especially when they propose the idea so nicely… Just read it, you’re welcome

⛈️🧯Transformed by @sotwk

Thranduil’s son OC x fem!reader Teens and Up 2,400 words

There are at least two werewolves! When I tell you I read it three nights in a row, just to truly catch all the little things that made me go absolutely feral this so lovely to read. Yes, there’s gore (only a little bit) and there’s angst, but there’s also dialogue that would be made into gifs were it a movie.

Pirates of the Caribbeans

🌪️Catch the Wind by eriathiel (@esta-elavaris)

James Norrington x fem!oc Explicit 418,000 words

101 chapters of epic, pirates, and sweetness. The definition of you will suffer and you will like it. I finished this in like two days, because I couldn’t put it down, like a child on Halloween night going through their whole bag of candy.

⛈️🍬 Fallen Through Time by eriathiel (@esta-elavaris)

Catch the Wind AU Mature Ongoing; 34,000 words

12 Chapters so far, but it’s probably going to make me want to read everything about Theodora again. I am very normal about this character. 😌

Other fandoms

🌡️One of Those days by @capricornafterdark

Jason Todd x fem!reader Explicit 750 words

Sometimes you need to be taken care of, and sometimes its easier to take care of others.

🍬Patience by @velvetcloxds

Charlie Swan x fem!reader Just straight cuteness 600 words

A cute yet serious conversation with Charlie

🌡️That Takes Trust Darlin by @capricornafterdark

Jason Todd x transmasc!reader Explicit 1,950 words

It takes a lot of trust to tell a person about your desires, and even more when you spend your time catching villains.

🌪️ What Happens After You? by StrengthBeforeWeakness

Ominis Gaunt x fem!oc Mature 219,000 words

A badass Ravenclaw, sweet sweet Garreth, and dark!Sebastian. I am tempted to say it’s almost a Hogwarts Legacy AU because the lore in this fic is so incredible, it feels new again.

These are my headers and dividers, please do not use them.

[heyheyitsjae]

So the trailer for The Minecraft Movie (sorry, “A Minecraft Movie”) came out a couple days ago. I had a lot of thoughts upon seeing it, I haven’t been able to get it out of my head, and have been combing through other people’s takes the last few days, so I’ve been itching to talk about it. The trailer is currently sitting at 500,000 likes vs 900,000 dislikes, so obviously it hasn’t been received well. Even the official Minecraft channel hasn’t uploaded it, only linking to WB’s upload. I thought I’d go back to the beginning and give my thoughts on progress as stuff from the film came out. 

So the first major red flag for me was when they announced the film was going to be in live action. I could not for the life of me fathom that decision. Minecraft has such a goofy and stylized world that it would only really work in animation, and we’ve had plenty of excellent Minecraft animations over the years to prove that. The Fallen Kingdom Pentology, Villager News, Cas van de Pol’s shorts, Kelpilox’s memes, Hapico’s stunning 3D shorts, and of course the official update trailers. Time and time again Minecraft has proven that both hilariously funny and epicly badass content can be made in its world, often by the fanbase. 

And yet, they chose to make the film in live action. The only way I could possibly think of this working would be if they entirely ditched the blocky aesthetic, and made it a high fantasy like Lord of the Rings, The DnD Movie, or even The Princess Bride. There’s plenty of fantasy elements like Creepers, Endermen, and Piglins that could keep something like that grounded in Minecraft’s world, even if it would be an odd choice. 

Then the birthday short came out. For those of you that don’t know, as a part of the 15th anniversary of Minecraft they put out a short on YouTube and Tik Tok of Jack Black and Jason Momoa cutting a cake and wishing Minecraft “happy birthday.” The actors weren’t even wearing any sort of outfit or costume for the film, and their acting felt very strained and terrible. I had my fingers crossed that they just cheaped out because it’s a promotional short, but it was still a bad sign. https://www.youtube.com/shorts/2f0fPzZNPWw 

Then concept art started to leak for the film. While there were a couple of designs I did find cool like the Spider and Elytra, others like the Pig and Villagers concerned me and looked pretty doofy. These were obviously created by a variety of artists, so there was no telling who’s vision they would go forward with, and I saw it as a bit of a coin flip. 

Then the actual trailer came out, and… oh boy… https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PE2YZhcC4NY&t=1s 

For a start the opening shot didn’t seem all that bad to me. Yeah real life Minecraft is still a weird concept, and that archway looked unnatural, but at least some level of effort seemed to have gone into it. 

And then the actors showed up and all hope dropped. Their implementation into the film felt really awkward and lazy. Every shot they’ve got an awkward glow around them, either a result of being poorly green screened or needlessly backlit. They often feel out of scale with the environment and there’s a decent amount of shots where they don’t even cast a shadow. They feel so unnatural in this world. It makes you wonder, if all the backgrounds and mobs are gonna be done in CGI anyway, why not make the humans CGI and the whole thing an animation from the get go? 

The wardrobe of these actors is also a strange one. One that stands out as odd to me is Momoa has blonde hair, a brown beard, AND a pink jacket? At least make his hair and beard the same color it just looks awkward. 

And of course the king of awkward stand-outs is Jack Black as Steve. They didn’t even try, they just threw a blue shirt on him and called it a day. They could have at least trimmed up his beard. It’s especially odd they went with Black given Jason Momoa is right there!? Momoa has the perfect skin tone, right beard shape, and roughly the right amount of muscle mass to be Steve. The only thing that doesn’t really line up is his hair is a tad long, but if they were gonna put him in a wig anyway that’s not a hard fix. 

Most of the delivery in the teaser also feels pretty stiff and none of the jokes land. So far it’s got a strong “gulp, he’s right behind me” vibe that I’m not digging. 

Before we get to the moment you’re all waiting for, a couple of little side complaints on minor things. 

Something I noticed in the trailer that super bugged me, but I’ve only seen one other person mention so maybe I’m overreacting, is the logs on the scene where they meet Steve. For some reason the bottom railing has the logs rings facing up toward the crenelations or sideways into each other, but the crenelations have the logs facing sideways toward the camera!? Not only does it look really bad, but that’s the kind of thing that would take a lot of extra effort to do in-game, placing and breaking two extra blocks for each bump, only for it to ruin the build. 

And then there’s the crafting table. This scene was a bit quick, blink and you’ll miss it, so I didn’t give it much thought on first viewing. I just assumed Mamoa put two buckets and a chain on the table… but he didn’t. He threw like, six iron ingots and five cobblestone, onto the table and it somehow worked. The items on the table weren’t even lined up with the crafting grid. It’s the literal fucking name of the game and they couldn’t get it right!? HOW, HOW DO YOU FUCK UP THAT BADLY!!!

Okay now we’re on to the REAL bad bit! The mobs in this film are a train wreck. They are a shining example of what I mentioned before, either you make this film entirely animation or entirely live action. This awkward halfway point just creates an uncanny valley feeling that’s disturbing to look at. Most of them feel A.I. generated. 

The Sheep and the Llama are obviously the worst contenders. They look like something a parody YouTuber would throw together for a grossout short in 2013. I’ve heard some people try to defend this movie by saying “it’s just for kids, don’t be so hard on it.” I can’t think of a single five year old that would piss their pants crying in fear if they saw this thing pop up on screen. They are horrendous. 

Then there’s the Wolf. The Wolf doesn’t look as bad in comparison. There’s something off about its lips and hind legs, but I think obscuring it in shadows is saving us from the brunt of whatever the hell could be going on. 

And then there’s the Creeper, which is an… interesting choice. A lot of people have complained that it’s fuzzy, but looking at the poster it seems a bit odder than that. It looks like its skin is made of a dirt like substance and its fir is grass, which is… a choice. For those that don’t know, the original description we were given of Creeper skin was that it was “crunchy like dry leaves.” This has led to basically everyone assuming Creepers are plant-like creatures, with most people giving them scaly skin. I suppose grass fir fits with being plant-like, but it’s not scaly or dry at all. To be fair, a lot of fan theories have suggested Creepers could be made of peat moss, and it looks a little like that, but it’s still off. 

That then brings us to the Piglins who… honestly don’t look that bad. I think a combination of smaller eyes, less fur, and not being based on a real life animal makes them a lot more digestible than the other mobs in the film. I also like the use of Ghasts as airships. That was a concept we saw in one of the Fallen Kingdom songs that Minecraft almost implemented into canon with Minecraft Legends. While these Ghast airships are nowhere near as cool looking as either of those examples, at least it’s something. But there’s a lot of stuff to talk about with the Piglins aside from their appearance, so let's get into it. 

The first is a common complaint I’ve seen people make: how they’re able to breathe in the Overworld, when normally this causes Zombification. We *might* have an answer to this. In Minecraft Legends the Piglins tried to invade the Overworld. They brought with them huge Nether Spreader devices that spread Netherrack and heated the air, while the Horde of the Spore bred and spread mushroom fungal spores into the air. The spores made the air breathable for Piglins, and the heat presumably killed off the virus. 

Now that made sense for Legends, but doesn’t really make sense here. After the Piglin Invasion, the Horde of the Spore was hit hardest by the war. While survivors of the Horde of the Hunt remain in the Crimson Forests and the Horde of the Bastion remain in the Bastion Remnants, Piglins have since abandoned the Warped Forests, with Hoglins even developing a fear of the Warped Fungi, leaving the Horde of the Spore extinct. 

During Legends the Piglins had giant machines and an entire third of the army dedicated to making the Overworld breathable, while this trailer seems to show the much smaller modern Piglin army, so I have no idea how they are keeping alive. 

The other big issue that rises with the Piglins being here is… why? In Legends the Piglin Invasion at least sort of made sense. In the base game we had the Ruined Portals revealing travel between the two Dimensions was once more common, and the Bastion Remnants hinting that Piglins were once more populous and militaristic. Legends answered both of these by implying that the Piglins once tried to invade the Overworld, but after their four abusive kings were killed the few survivors split up and determined the Overworld not worth their efforts. 

The Piglins went from a militaristic and imperial force determined to conquer, to a small band of tribes that, while territorial, are ultimately friendly. They’ve become far less united and greedy (assuming they even were that greedy, Legends is a story written by the victors after all.) Based on the outfits, and Steve being alive, it seems the Piglins in this film are the *modern* Piglins. The chill dudes that give you enchanted boots for gold and compose fire mixtapes. The whole turning an entire race in your story into mindless evil monsters for Legends was already something that didn’t sit well with the Minecraft fanbase, especially with how adorable Piglins are, so using the friendly version of them as the bad guys in the film is an odd choice. We already have a group that raids villages, the Illagers, and a group that's yet to get the story spotlight, the Undead, both of whom would’ve been more logical and interesting villains for the movie. 

That brings me to another minor point that I think is worth bringing up here. I’ve heard some people complain about the portal at the start and while I agree it shouldn’t be blue, it's not for the same reason they do. A lot of people claim the portal should be purple, which is actually not true. Purple is the color of the Nether Portal yes, but we know from Minecraft Story Mode and the Infinite Dimensions April Fools Snapshot that that portals in this world can be basically any color, with each Dimension getting its own color, so the idea of the human world not being purple makes sense. 

But I think this shade of light blue is a bad choice, for one simple reason. The plot of Minecraft Legends was: Piglins decided to invade the overworld, so heroes from a far off land were brought in through a light blue portal to fix it. So far, the plot of this film seems to be: Piglins decided to invade the overworld, so heroes from a far off land were brought in through a light blue portal to fix it.

We’re just doing Legends again, which I cannot fucking fathom. Why the hell would you make a “Minecraft” movie and then base its plot on something exclusive to one of the sequels. Where’s the logic in that!? It’s especially baffling that Legends of all things was the one they decided to go with. Filming for this film didn’t start till earlier this year, sometime after February, meaning that things like actor schedules, lot rentals, and creating props probably weren’t set in stone until like, last August. 

That was well after Legends was the biggest critical and financial flop of any Minecraft spin-off (sans maybe Earth, but that never really came out.) This film had already been delayed time and time again, presumably because the script wasn’t up to snuff, so one more delay after it had been proven that people didn’t want to see that story wouldn’t have been that big a deal. Then again, Legends wasn’t officially canned until a couple months before filming and Black and Momoa probably have busier schedules and had to be booked further in advance. But it still feels like a poor choice that they had time to course correct on. 

Although there is ONE thing that sets this story apart from Legends. It appears to be going down the Jumanji route. Now while you could argue Legends already was an Isekai story, at least in that case it was someone traveling from a Minecraft world to another Minecraft world. Here we’ve got another fucking instance of a bunch of people being sucked into the videogame world. 

As people have mentioned before, having Jack Black in here is automatically giving Jumanji vibes, but even ignoring that I’m so damn sick of every single videogame movie being an Isekai. It is so annoying that game worlds aren’t allowed to exist as their own thing. The protagonist always has to be some outsider from the real world sent to this strange and kooky realm, and it’s just annoying. Videogames are fun when they have rich, fleshed out, and lived in universes, and reducing that to either “I’ve been trapped in the game” or “I’m unfamiliar with this world at tall” robs them of a lot of their wonder. The Mario Movie did it, the Monster Hunter Movie did it, the Sonic Movie did the reverse of it. We need more Detective Pickachu type films, where we explore people from a far out place in that far out place. 

Now let’s shift gears into less of aesthetic annoyances and more into potential spoiler territory. 

Something that I didn’t notice while watching the trailer, and I’ve only seen one person point out, is that The Seer from Minecraft Legends shows up at one point, surrounded by a crowd of Piglins. Now I would assume this movie is non-canon (it’s not made by Mojang and previous stuff not made by Mojang, like Story Mode, have been non-canon.) But if it IS canon, The Seer being there has interesting implications for the series lore/timeline. 

First and foremost is the idea that the Seer and Steve are alive at the same time. Steve is in both the base game and Dungeons, both of which were agreed to happen in a similar time-frame anyway. (Dungeons has both statues of the Ender Dragon being alive during the Arch-Illager’s reign and statues of her getting slain.) But Legends is agreed upon taking place hundreds if not thousands of years prior to the events of the main game. None of the ruined and abandoned structures of modern Minecraft are in it and it depicts the origin of most of the series main races/factions. 

In order for The Seer and Steve to be alive at the same time it either means The Seer is immortal and has been hiding in the background for a while, or Steve is both immortal and MUCH older than we thought. Of the two the first seems more likely, and creates interesting potential for The Seer. They’re the only major antagonist from any of the three main games to not either be befriended or killed (I’m sure someone in Story Mode survived I’m forgetting about) and so their story is unfinished. They also serve as a great explanation for the Piglin army.

The Piglins only attacked during Legends because they were ruled by tyrannical kings who borderline enslaved their people and had a might-makes-right mentality. With all these kings dead, and no army left to maintain their rule/order, of course the survivors would become more independent and less militaristic. It was a logical way to transition from how they’re depicted in both games. If anyone was going to revert the Piglins to their old ways, it would be the ancient hag who advised that cruel council, the only one their violent king showed an ounce of respect or fear to. Seer’s reinstating the old ways, the only question is why now? What took them so long to strike? 

But there’s another potential wrinkle in this plot that could make it more complicated, in an honestly annoying way. Throughout the trailer we see the main kid in the red hoodie is holding a strange glowing blue cube (that totally isn’t just the Tesseract from Marvel.) What this device is hasn’t been explained, but I’ve seen two popular theories going around. 

The first is that it’s a Beacon. In which case, sure, whatever. The other is that it could be the Orb of Dominance and this is the Orb’s origin story, of how it became an all powerful evil artifact. That would make this film a prequel to Legends, establishing how The Seer got their hands on the Orb and got their good standing with the Great Hog’s council 

I… don’t like that. For two main reasons. The first is that this would just exacerbate the Steve is immortal problem, you’re really gonna tell me he was there for EVERYTHING!? The second is that it really drags down the Orb of Dominance’s cool factor. The way it's depicted and talked about in Dungeons implies it's some sort of manifestation of an eldritch entity hellbent on destroying or conquering everything it comes into contact with, who has been vying for power since the dawn of time. Now it’s… something(?) that the humans brought with them. While still mysterious, I suppose, it sounds a lot less cool now (although let’s be honest, it was always a little dumb.) 

Also slightly off topic but I just want to mention, PhoenixSC made a video reviewing the teaser, and WB copyright struck him and forced him to mute a portion of the audio. Now you might think “oh well they own the trailer they’re allowed to do that” but no, it wasn’t anything from the teaser they took down. You know what it was? A couple minutes of a fanmade Minecraft short-film Phoenix was praising for being better than the official thing. Not only is that footage they don’t own any right too, but reviewing things is well and truly covered under fair-use. 

That’s an absolute scumbag movie. Combine that with the recent controversy Jack Black is getting into and I say please, just don’t watch this film in theaters. It’s clear not an ounce of care or love went into making this. It already looks like such a by the numbers and cheaply put together thing. They can 100% do better and we 100% deserve better.

[icarus-suraki]

1, 7, and 9 for the movie ask!

It occurs to me that I could just answer Goncharov (1972) for all of these…

Movie Questions Ask Bait!

->what is your favorite film of all time? Very possibly Mad Max: Fury Road. That movie rewired my brain. That movie scraped the rust off my soul. That movie sneaked up behind me and stole my spine. And it was great.

I literally went to see it in the theater seven (7) times. Seven. If you dig back in my blog here to June 2015, you'll see that this place was full of Fury Road. Stills, gifs, music, meta, fic, shitposts, all of it. All of it.

Sidebar: I think my absolute love of Fury Road is what's keeping me from wanting to see the new Furiosa prequel: Fury Road didn't explain everything to death so we, the fandom, had a great time imagining explanations or making things up. We dissected that movie and we also left it alone. I don't want to know too much. I like that world being left a partial mystery. We, like Max, get thrown into it and we're both figuring out how it works as the story progresses. I love that.

I can't exactly explain why I love it so much. The colors, the action, the fight scenes, the music (holy shit the music), the characters, the weirdness, the story itself, the callbacks and parallels, the newness and the oldness of it (it really is a train robbery movie at its core), the sense (ultimately) of hope, the presences of women (old women even!) in action roles… Something about it, maybe everything about it, were just perfect for me at that time and in that place.

Yeah. Favorite movie ever.

->name a movie you’re emotionally attached to? There's so many ways I could take this. Positive attachment? Negative attachment? Very Strange Time in My Life attachment?

Like, I know I can never watch L'Illusionniste, Les Triplettes de Belleville, or Grave of the Fireflies again because I cried just too fucking hard at each of them, which I think is an emotional attachment.

Or I could say the Lord of the Rings movies (all of them). They came out when I was in college and a handful of us were counting down the days to the premiere, watching this miniscule clip of video taken by a fan from a train that showed a glimpse of the Minas Tirith set endlessly, gobbling up any news or leak or rumor about production on Livejournal, engaging in the fandom of that era (which was a whole thing in and of itself), even going to midnight local premiers. So while I'm not a huge fan of the movies, they certainly were a constant presence in my undergrad days.

Or it could be the other movies that rewired my brain: Mad Max: Fury Road (see above), Princess Mononoke (baby's first Studio Ghibli film in 1999 at the local art house theater), Star Wars (only episodes 4, 5, and 6 though; I kind of deny that any others exist), Kiki's Delivery Service (which I had on VHS in college and would watch when I was stressed and depressed because I love the city), Voices of a Distant Star (the concept really got me)…

Or it could be the kids' movies from my own childhood, you know? Robin Hood (1973) is very near and dear to my heart. And Panda and the Magic Serpent is what started me down the weaboo road way back when I was 6 years old.

There's so many possible answers here. But that's a few movies I have emotional attachments to. How's that?

->guilty pleasure movie? Do I have to? Okay, okay, okay: I like a good cheesy, gory giallo movie, red tempra paint blood and all. Spaghetti westerns are amazing with their half-understandings or misunderstandings of USAmerican history to the point that it becomes something different, something bigger and more epic (I love The Good, The Bad and the Ugly so much). Martial arts movies full of dramatic scenes and wire-fu are so much fun (and I get to practice my Mandarin or my Japanese). Gothic drama, especially from the 1990s, is great like the original IwtV, Crimson Peak, The Crow…

But I paid actual, real, hard-earned money for a (digital) copy of Bloodsport and it's so bad. It's so bad! But I love it--maybe as much for meta reasons as anything.

Like, the whole thing is based on this Canadian-American guy Frank Dux's memoirs about being trained in ninjutsu by a mysterious Senzo "Tiger" Tanaka (who probably didn't exist at all and has the same name as a character in You Only Live Twice) and then going on to compete in this international full-contact underground martial arts competition in Hong King (the "Kumite"). Oh and he was also in the military at the time, doing covert missions, so he had to go AWOL to fight in this competition of course. Which he does without being caught. And he keeps outsmarting the CID officers (one of whom is played by a young Forest Whitaker) when they chase him to Hong Kong, meanwhile picking up an April O'Neill-style beautiful American journalist ("reporter" because it's the 1980s).

The whole thing is so clearly ridiculous bullshit but it's marketed as being based on a true story because Frank Dux insisted his bullshit was true. And it was produced by Cannon Films, which is another can of worms entirely (I highly recommend the documentary Electric Boogaloo: The Wild, Untold Story of Cannon Films for more backstory on the company; it is bonkers). And did I mention that Frank Dux is played by Jean-Claude van Damme? And yes he does do the most epic of splits.

And the whole thing is simultaneously so deep in meta layers (self-proclaimed martial arts masters, which ties into Count Dante and the dojo wars, Frank Dux's amazing bullshit and stolen valor, Cannon Films) and yet so incredibly shallow at the same time.

There's minimal plot, zero depth to the characters, massively long flashback sequences, even longer training montages, a totally ridiculous amalgamation of Chinese, Japanese, and Korean cultures into just "Asian Culture," the dubbing in some scenes is practically criminal, there's minimal exploration of the location (Hong fucking Kong!!!) outside of a chase and a throwaway scene about bad restaurant food, and even the fight scenes during the tournament aren't really all that great.

But the Kowloon Walled City gets some screentime (except that it's just a set sometimes). And there are tons of locally-hired extras and bit players, along with a slew of international actors and/or actual martial artists, even if a lot of them have been cast as nationalities other than their own???--like Bernard Mariano, who is Filipino by descent but was born in Hong Kong, had no martial arts experience but got scouted while he was working out, was cast as a "Middle Eastern" fighter named Hossein, but used his pay from the movie for university classes to go on to be an English teacher in Hong Kong. Meanwhile, Jean-Claude van Damme is busy taking his shirt off and wearing super tight spandex underwear (he snaps them in one scene; you're welcome). Leah Ayres is a "reporter," which is really "journalist" and one of the few adventurous jobs acceptable for women in 1980s movies to have, who maybe lives in Hong Kong or maybe doesn't but she's super cute and deserves better than she got in the script; she's The Girl (Leah Ayres is now into pseudoscience). And Donald Gibb is playing this American bar brawler who somehow got invited to this elite fighting tournament and he looks like Kurt Russell in The Thing if he were still infected by the Thing and living out on the ice alone.

Like, I could just keep going. I love this shit. There is so little that's "good" in terms of filmmaking, scriptwriting, cinematography, anything in this movie and yet it entertains the fuck out of me.

Hence: guilty pleasure film.

[the-apprentice-lia]

i just watched hunger games 1 after rereading the books and i have some… thoughts.

so everyone goes on about how the movies are so inaccurate to the books, but (and i say this as an avid bookworm) i don’t think they really are. the biggest inaccuracies i noted were as follows:

a) rue and katniss don’t talk about their different districts — however, i do think this wasn’t terrible as they had to amend the plot at several points since we didn’t have katniss as a narrator, like when caesar explains what tracker jackers are.

b) the one that stood out the most to me: the mutts are just… dogs. not tributes, children, that have had their eyes gouged out and their bodies twisted and warped to be another pawn for the games, even in death. children whose families, to our knowledge, do not even receive their babies’ bodies. and this was such a big detail to overlook since this is precisely the reason katniss is so horrified, and precisely the reason the brutality of the games is made so clear to us, the viewers: because these children will always be nothing but pieces on a game board to the people in power. things to be used, warped, destroyed, and then discarded. because when katniss looks into glimmer’s (or her mutt’s) eyes, it finally hits her how insignificant the capitol views the tributes. how even when you’re winning, there’s something to be used against you. she even sees rue, the girl she saved, the little twelve year old she buried, rabid and frothing at the mouth with hate. and this is when she sees, in perfect clarity, the grotesquerie of the games.

c) key details were omitted, like when haymitch fell off the stage, when madge gave katniss the pin, when peeta threw haymitch’s glass against the wall in the train car, how katniss threw peeta into the vase after the interviews and peeta’s hands were lacerated, how the soup from the parachute was actually broth and not the infamous lamb soup with plums that katniss loves (and subsequently, the ice-breaker in caesar’s interview being different), and of course, the infamous black buttercup. i mean, all in all, these were quite annoying— but not to the point where they changed the main message of the movie: the corrupting nature of power and how this breeds cruelty and uncompassion for human life. i think they stayed true to this, and that’s why i believe the films are a worthy tribute to the books!

furthermore, to compensate for the loss of katniss’ inner narrative spelling out key details for us in the books, the film does actually come up with pretty clever ways to work around this. like, as previously mentioned, when caesar explains on live television, to a capitol audience, what tracker jackers are and why they’re so deadly, which is key to the scene where katniss cuts the nest down. or, when the parachutes come with little notes; since we can’t see katniss putting together that a good kiss = a reward, we are actually told by the note in the soup parachute. “you call that a kiss, sweetheart?” we also have further insight into seneca crane’s death, which is so breathtakingly poetic, and symbolic, in my opinion. well, at least as poetic as a death can be. in addition, even though the books do mention it, we see in real time how haymitch flatters and strokes and fights for sponsors for katniss and peeta. this is so significant, as a man who has been forced to mentor years and years of tributes, to watch them die over and over again, and to gradually lose all hope that they’ll survive— this man is the one that is fighting so hard for katniss and peeta. we can see that better in the film. so the inconsistencies, in my opinion, can be overlooked as we will never truly have a film that is 100% loyal to the books. (unless it’s lord of the rings but shhh)

but what really sealed it home for me was something that the books actually didn’t do: we have the sense as viewers, a lot of the time, that we are intruding upon a profoundly personal moment. like with katniss and peeta in the cave. but that’s exactly what the film is trying to drive home. and that’s what makes it so fantastic. because we are intruding. we shouldn’t be watching such a deeply personal and vulnerable moment for katniss, who never shows her feelings if she can’t help it, and peeta, who shows his like an open book. it’s wrong on both accounts because in addition to these children being forced to fight brutally and bloodily to the death, they have to put on a pantomime as they do! i mean, what could be more unjust than a girl who’s being put to death being forced to give everyone a show on the way out? when the camera is just a bit too close, when there is no soothing filler music, when we can see them, raw and real, two kids afraid to die in an unfamiliar forest far away from their home, we feel uncomfortable. because why should we get to see this? how can this be fair? surely, they can have just this one thing. but that’s the whole point. they can’t. and we— watching from the same perspective as the capitol audience, i would like to emphasise— feel complicit in robbing these two kids of a brief moment of respite. that is what the film tries, and succeeds brilliantly, to convey.

i’m sure there’s still more to cover, but this is just what i noticed and felt the need to write about from my first time watching ‘the hunger games’. in conclusion: the film was actually fantastic if you don’t nitpick the small details. i think it’s a raw and real and fantastic tribute to the books, and should be treated as such.

[lords-of-mayhem]

Lords Of Chaos Ships Playlist

A playlist of songs for various LOC ships. (Only one per ship this time <3)

Blackthorn x Varg // I Bet On Losing Dogs

I bet on losing dogs. I know they're losing and I pay for my place by the ring where I'll be looking in their eyes when they're down. I'll be there on their side, I'm losing by their side.

Dead x Euronymous // Heaven Iowa

I've unspooled on the floor, I feel so A Star Is Born. Kiss my cheek, baby, please. Would you read my eulogy? I will never ask you for anything except to dream sweet of me.

Tell me when the party ends, will you still love who I am? Scar crossed lovers, forever. I'm checking myself out forever. Save your breath, half your life you've been hooked on death.

Faust x Varg // Cigarette Daydreams

Did you stand there all alone? Oh, I cannot explain what's going down. You sigh, look away. I can see it clear as day. Close your eyes, so afraid, hide behind that baby face.

Funny how it seems like yesterday. As I recall, you were looking out of place. Cigarette daydream, you were only seventeen. Soft speak with a mean streak, nearly brought me to my knees.

Dead x Euronymous x Hellhammer x Necrobutcher // Remember When

You were the first, so was I. Made love and then you cried, remember when? We lived and learned, life threw curves. There was joy and there was hurt. Life was changed, disassembled, rearranged. We came together, fell apart, and broke each other's hearts.

Faust x Occultus // Francesca

Do you think I'd give up, that this might've shook the love from me? How could you think, darling, I'd scare so easily? If someone asked me at the end, I'd tell them put me back in.

I would do it again. If I could hold you for a minute, darling, I'd do it again. I could find you, darling, in any life.

Euronymous x Varg // Hum Hallelujah

I thought I loved you, it was just how you looked in the light. A teenage vow in a parking lot, 'til tonight do us part. I sing the blues and swallow them too.

My words are my faith, to hell with our good name. Remix of your guts, your insides x-rayed. And one day, we'll get nostalgic for disaster.

Blackthorn x Faust // We Fell In Love In October

Smoking cigarettes on the roof, you look so pretty and I love this view. We fell in love in October, that's why I love fall. Looking at the stars, admiring from afar.

Faust x Fenriz // Disloyal Order Of Water Buffaloes

Doc, that's a hole where something was. Put him in the back of a squad car, restrain that man. He needs his head put in a CAT scan. Oh, I'm a loose bolt of a complete machine.

What a match, I'm half-doomed and you're semi-sweet. Imperfect boys with their perfect ploys, nobody wants to hear you sing about tragedy.

Metalion x Ann-Marit // Apocalypse

You leapt from crumbling bridges, watching cityscapes turn to dust. Filming helicopters in the ocean from way above. Got the music in you, baby. Kisses on the foreheads of lovers, wrapped in your arms.

You've been hiding them in hollowed out pianos, left in the dark. Sharing all your secrets with each other since you were kids. Sleeping soundly with the locket that she gave you clutched in your fist.

Euronymous x Faust x Varg // I Love You Like An Alcoholic

Cast that first glance. Your smile, my veins at maximum capacity, blood pumping so fast. My girl, if looks gave heart attacks. Some handsome dark stranger, you were standing there on the corner.

Kissed that first night and then the rain opened up the sky. You had those compelling magnetized eyes you must've lost when you got older. You laughed, but seemed a little sad. One last kiss, I love you like an alcoholic.

[albonoooo]

got tagged by @monacotrophywife, thank you!!

1. do you make your bed?

yeah, right before i go to bed at night.

2. favourite number?

3, 7, 13

3. what's your job?

i'm a student assistant in my uni's english and american studies institute's student office (i'm also a student in that institute)

4. if you could go back to school, would you?

fuck no

5. can you parallel park?

badly and only in perfect conditions. both driving teachers i had kinda neglected teaching me properly and i have no natural talent for it either.

6. do you think aliens are real?

i don't doubt that there's some form of other life out there, but that's about it.

7. can you drive a manual car?

yes. aside from my last few driving lessons, i've only driven manual cars. i hate it, but it's the standard where i live and automatic cars tend to be more expensive here since they're usually newer so i don't see myself getting lucky and having an automatic any time soon.

8. guilty pleasure?

not sure there's anything i feel very guilty about enjoying. i wouldn't exactly brag about some of the music in my liked songs, maybe.

9. tattoos?

not yet. i'm waiting with that until my decision making organ is fully developed.

10. favourite colour?

green and blue. green to look at and blue to wear.

11. favourite type of music?

hard to say, i enjoy a variety of music from all kinds of genres. i think my most listened to genres on spotify tend to be pop and rock??

12. do you like puzzles?

i definitely did as a kid, i haven't done one in ages though.

13. favourite childhood sport?

the only sports i did long-term as a child were swimming and horse riding and i enjoyed both for different reasons (also had moments of not enjoying both for, again, different reasons).

14. do you talk to yourself?

yes, all the time.

15. tea or coffee?

i drink both occasionally and don't feel overly passionate about either. it depends on my mood which i prefer.

16. first thing you wanted to be when growing up?

a vet! this wish lasted quite long, until sixth grade, which is why i chose to do latin instead of french in school. it only stopped after the realisation that being a vet includes having to put down animals and having to be professional and composed about it.

17. what movies do you adore?

i probably forgot many, but some of my favourite films are: les choristes, lord of the rings trilogy, the hobbit trilogy, napola, die wilden hühner 1 & 2, vorstadtkrokodile 1, new year's eve, the princess and the frog, tangled, balto and spirit - stallion of the cimarron which makes me sob my heart out every time i watch it

no pressure tags: @liamlawsonlesbian @borntogayz @piastrisms @bright-and-burning @glasscushion (sorry in case of any double tags) and anybody who wants to do this <3

[thekingofwinterblog]

Why Arnor Failed as a State

So in lord of the rings, Aragorn, the titular returning king of the Third book/film, is the last descendant of Elendil, the first High King of Arnor and Gondor.

The entire plot is about how the royal family finaly, after all these years comes home to Gondor in the south from the cold, hard north, where the other realm of the Dunedain failed.

That said we are never really given a particularily detailed breakdown of why Arnor ultimately failed beyond the obvious military one(It was defeated by the rising power of Angmar before that too crashed and burned), the geographics one(the population never really managed to reach the level it could have, and that was before the plague), and the political one(the realm split into 3 lesser realms that squabbled).

On paper these seems easy enough reasons for why the northern realm crashed and burned, but once you actually start digging into it, it becomes pretty obvious that unlike Gondor, Arnor had some very serious fundamental problems that it never really managed to fix, which brought it down in the end.

1. It mishandled it's amazing geopgraphy

Looking at Arnor from above, it seems to have ALL the advantages. It has mazsive, open fertile plains, 2 great rivers, mild climate except for the far borth, clear, easy to defend natural boundaries, with the only open pathway into the realm being the hard to pass through corridor feom forodwaith.

Politically apeaking it was also set for success as the realm had managed to unify all the local peoples within it's borders underneath its banner, which they were content with for a very long time.

So with all of this in mind, where did Arnor go wrong?

It failed to harness it's rivers, that's how.

When choosing the place for capital for the new realm, one would expect it to be on one of the rivers, either at the mouth, or at an important spot.

The Dunedain chose to build the capital Annuminas at the great lake from whoch the Baranfuin/brandywine river originates from.

This isnt a... A terrible choice for a capital.

It allows the royal family to dominate the trade flowing up and down the river by controlling the spot where you can build ships, and have a massive riverrine fleet stationed in case of conflict.

So whats the problem?

The Dunedain never dredged either of their rivers, thats the problem.

Rather than wideding the bottom, to allow bigger, more usefull ships to pass up and down the river for transport of food, trade goods, and troops, Arnor instead did the exact opposite, and not only let natural fords stand, but built bridges that would prevent any trading river network from flourishing.

As far as i can tell, Arnor didnt have any particular noteworthy ocean navy, but even if Arnor was never going to invest into one such, the fact that they never did the work to make their rivers into a fountain of wealth, trade was one of the major reasons for their big decline.

But if they didn't invest into making their rivers more navigable, at the very least they would invest in horse power, in order for their people to travel quickly across the plain, allowing a caravan based trade netowork to do what rivers did not, right?

Well, no, and that leads me into my next point.

2. They Failed to turn into a cavalry based military, economic force, or political one

When the last king of Gondor(then prince) before Aragorns coming near a millennia later, came to destroy Angmar with a truly stunningly large relief force at the end of Angmar's power, he noted to his surprise just how perfect Arnor's plains would be for his cavalry in the task ahead of him.

And he was right. While it was the overhwelming numbers that won the day, it was the cavalry that was the main star, and allowed the army of the west to sweep over Angmar and end it forever with such ease.

With this in mind, it brings the question of why didnt the Arnorian Dunedain switch over to a completely horse based army, or at the very least make knights the shocktroops of the military the way Gondor did?

The reason seems simple enough.

Gondor was forced to fight endless wars against all of its neighbors and had to constantly adapt and change and improved, while Arnor was at peace for the better part of a millenium before it broke.

When the successor state of Arthedain had to adopt to new warfare, it always found itself outnumbered, and from the accounts of it's wars with Angmar, what they ended up doing was simply rely on powerful fortifications to fight defensive wara, and it's alliance networks to rally addiational troops.

Not strategies withouth merrit, but it's clear that Arthedain never managed to become a particularily great military powerhouse... But it could have if it had changed over to cavalry as the main feature of the army.

Instead they relied on what the numenoreans of old did. Arrow, sword and shield.

They no doubt had mounted troops of some sort, but it was clearly not their speciality just looking at how their successors, the rangers of the north prefer fighting.

But the fact is, Arnor should have had Cavalry centered armies from the very start, leaving behind the old Numenorean way of fighting the moment they realised all their future fighting would be on open plains.

However, this lack of focus on horses had another side effect. One that along with their squandering their rivers would contribute to another problem.

3. A lack of integration of the kingdom's ethnicities.

When Arnor broke off into 3 different realms, while the impetous was 3 sons fighting for control, when you look at the bigger picture, its clear that what actually happened here is that the 3 realms broke off very neatly along the kingdoms 3 main ethnicities, who each backed their own prefered candidate.

Arthedain, the biggest and strongest, centered around the heartland was populated by mostly ethnic dunedain, along with breemen as a smaller ethnicity.

Cardolan was ruled by a dunedain elite, but the ethnicity that dominated was the natice, pre numenorean population who were centered around the barrow tombs they would later be buried in(and would be corrupted by the witch king).

And finally Rhudar was also ruled by a dunedain elite, but the real power behind their revolt against the capital was the natice hillmen, who, being dissatiafied with Dunedain rule, and fueled by ambition decided to ally with Angmar in a bid for supremacy(only to later be exterminated by angmar once they no longer served their purpose).

What we see here is a very clear breakdown of the kingdoms, caused by a failed integration policy.

Clearly Annumias and later Fornost failed to bring these minorities into the fold successfully the way Gondor did eith its minorities, who became proud gondorians.

And we can in large part blame this on the capitals inability to project a sense of unity across the land. Which would have been easy to do if they had successfully tamed and harnessed their rivers, making all 3 corners part of a connected riverrine network, or had used horse based travel and trade as a matter of course to ensure everyone was connected into one economic and political policy.

Its very telling that the only people the Dunedain successfully integrated into their realm were the two minorities who lived right by the capital of Fornost(The hobbits and Breemen). Because these were the people who lived close enough that you could actually get there by foot at a reasonable time.

So with all of this in mind, there is a question to be raised. Why did Arnor squander all of it's natural advantages so badly?

Well i've gone over the military one. A stupily long amount of peace made the realm unprepared for innovation that allowed Gondor to become a powerhouse.

But no the real reason why the Arnorians would have seen no need to make changes to bolster trade, in and outside the kingdom, is due to a factor i have not gone over yet.

4. Trade mistakes.

Arnor and Arthedain both sit on an ancienct road used by the dwarves, both from across the misty mountains in the direction of rivendel, but also from gondor, and far more importantly for this dissection, during both Arnor and Arthedain's lifetimes, this road systwm would have been used by Khazad-Dum, Moria, at it's height.

All 3 directions heading to the Dwarves mines in the blue mountains and the great harbors of the Elven realm of Lindon.

It would in short, be one of the most lucrative trade routes of the age.

But, and this is critical, it was not a network Arnor actually had to do some work to take a advantage of.

They did not need to make caravans, or build trade fleets, ocean or riverrine. Hell, they didn't even need dedicated traders of their own.

They were middle men, who by virtue of sitting right on this route got to toll and harness the wealth this route generated withouth hacing to do any real work.

And that, ultimately was the problem. They didnt need to innovate. They didnt need to adapt and improve and put their land to full use, because all the wealth they could possibly use was there withouth work.

And that sucks, because clearly Arnor had A LOT of products they could have sold abroad. We can tell that just by looking at it's most prosperous successor state(the shire) and looking at what sort of technology they inherited from their original overlords.

The hobbits of the shire has paper mills, clockmakers, dye industry, matches, bound books, door knobs, integrated locks and latches, and on and on. Compare it to rohan, and they are centuries ahead in tech by our standards.

It's often easy to forget(give tolkien was clear that hobbits just did not move past a certain point in techonology) that by the standards of the day, the Hobbits are very technologically advanced compared to most... And ALL of that is things they inherited from their overlords.

Wheter Arthedain and by extension Arnor invented all of these technologies themselves(as there are a number of things clearly not found in gondor it cant all have been inherited from numenor), or they adapted it through Trade with Khazad Dum or Lindon, improved upon such foreign concepts, or kore likely a mixture of all of these, it's clear that Arnor had the capacity to make these, and by extension the fact they are still around after the kingdom fell, in the form of the hobbits being self sufficcient(otger than presumably the raw metal materials they trade for with the dwarves) means this was not some exceptional level of tech for the kingdom.

It was the kingdom's standard, and if they had been interested in actually exporting these things abroad, Arnor would probably have been more wealthy than Gondor by a far margin.

But they didnt. Because they didnt see any need to innovate their trade capacity in such a manner. Which in turn led to them not harnessing their lands capacity for cheap, easy transportations, which in turn led to them not integrating their people the way gondor(who's people are all connected through the sea and Anduin, and what comes with them), which led to them being far more divided than they should have been.

And while their long period of peace allowed them to overtake Gondor in so many things, when it came to military advancements, they were not only voefully behind, but when it came time to innovate, they lacked both the resources, and the spark to truly overhaul their military and tactics, instead relying on the same old classics until it brought the kingdom crashing down.

[screamingcrows]

10, 17, 46 <3 xoxo

10. Would you slaughter the rich?

That's why I work with infectious diseases

17. Are you farsighted or nearsighted?

vision is perfect

46. Favourite holiday film?

....not a traditional one, but my dad and I watch the extended version of lord of the rings every year on the 25th of december (christmas is celebrated on the 24th here)

Ask me something weird

[haveyoureadthistoo]

Unpopular opinions

If you're human and living on this planet, you have certainly at least once got into a heated debate with somebody over something that was entirely up to taste. When it comes to culture, especially books, other aspects such as high expectations, political views and personal life experiences can also play a part, to the point where it's sometimes difficult to figure out why you didn't like that novel that everybody else is praising so hard.

My first big disappointment came from where I least expected it to. My queen Jane Austen. How could such a witty, talented author have penned something as dull as “Mansfield Park”? I could barely find any of the traits I so loved about her other novels, apart from maybe Lady Bertram and her impossible pug. It took me ages to finish and by the end of it I almost wished I hadn’t read it. But the following year I read “Emma” and reread “Pride and Prejudice” for the zillionth time, and my sense of wonder was restored.

In 2016, I finally decided to read “The Little Prince”, ready for a comfort book. Instead, I found a manual for sexist behaviour and unhealthy codependency disguised as sweet words and a love story. It took me so much by surprise that I could barely register the beautiful writing and the clever metaphors. All I could think was - how is this a timeless children’s classic when it glorifies egocentrism and self harm? Unlike many of the books I wish I had read at a younger age, this time I was relieved to be dealing with it at the end of my prefrontal cortex development, when I at least knew better.

Not long after that, I picked up another classic, “Lord of the Flies”. This time, I didn’t have strong feelings about it, I just failed to connect - and to believe. The writing bothered me, the excessive descriptions threw me off and the concept just didn’t ring true. The idea that we’re all just wild animals deep inside, ready to behave irrationally at the lowest provocation is just too convenient. It kills any productive discussion. But Piggy was such a cutie, poor guy.

My next bad ride was “1Q84”, which marred my admiration for Haruki Murakami. From that point onwards, I started perceiving flaws that didn’t seem to be there before, as though with every new book I was always reading the same thing with small adjustments. Woody Allen comes to mind. I could suddenly see the man behind the author. So many things displeased me, from bad character development to lazy narrative structure, not to mention all the unsexy sex scenes and the attempt at justifying sexual assault with religion. By the time I was done with the trilogy, I just knew I could never read again the books I had already read and loved because it might taint my beautiful memories.

2019 was the last time I faced a beloved classic and was left with a bitter taste. As a nature lover and philosophy admirer, it had always been a given that I would fall head over heels with “Walden”. I was writing a short film that was all about wilderness and community life, so it seemed like the perfect time to finally embrace my beautiful hardcover copy of the book. I certainly did not expect to find what a Goodreads user defined as: “The tale of a man who dared to live in his parents backyard and eat dinner with them, and then lived to write about it.” I felt cheated on. Ideologically and financially.

I might sound harsh in my comments, but I still rated all these books 2 stars out of 5. They’re books. Full books. Written by real people - something we take for granted now, but might live to miss one day. And it’s perfectly fine that some people worship them. Well, to some extent.

The bottom line is, I disliked them for different reasons. I take no issue with people enjoying “Mansfield Park” or “Lord of the Flies”, whose faults listed here are of a very personal nature. You can also choose to ignore the author’s privilege in “Walden” and manage to focus on the positive, if abstract conclusions. Even “1Q84” can hold a reverential place to somebody who sees it as a big mysterious symbolism for something I couldn’t see. Same goes for “The Little Prince”, which might just elicit good childhood memories regardless of the actual words - though I would never in a million years give it to an actual child.

Speaking of childhood memories, it’s also perfectly ok to change your mind. Something that spoke to you when you were little can feel a little distant when you’re an adult. Even something you liked or loathed in your 20s might feel better or worse within a decade (or four). We are constantly changing. And so are our passions. You don’t have to hate something just because you didn’t love it, nor do you have to pretend you’re still passionate about something that belongs in a different time, to a different you.

And it’s so natural that we disagree. Not everything has to turn into a fight. Our opposing tastes are not supposed to elicit war, but rather to give us personality and something to talk about. They are conversation starters, idea sparkers. We shouldn’t have to hide our true opinions, the same way we shouldn’t only listen to other people with the same opinion.

So yes, praise what you like, respect what you don’t. And let’s all collectively forget “The Little Prince”.