#this probably has more to do with my other problems

[lovecla]

THIS IS MY PLAYPEN ; JACK HUGHES.

WARNINGS unedited, jealous jack!!!!

WORD COUNT 0.7k

FROM ME TO YOU it’s officially 2025 where i live and i just wanted to write something short and funny because we need more jealous jack fics in this world *mark ruffalo protesting meme*. honestly, i’m just so grateful for all of you i wish i could drag you to my home and smooch you all. thank u so much for everything!

𐙚

“I FEEL like a skirt shouldn’t be that short,” Jack says, eyeing you across the room. “I mean, when she bends over to do that I can literally see her panties.”

“You mean when she bends over to grind on her best friend?” Luke chuckles, leaning against the counter. “She’s just dancing, man.”

“The problem isn’t her dancing—”

“The problem is that you’re not the one she’s bending over for, right?” Luke rolls his eyes when Jack gives him the finger. Sometimes he felt like Jack was the youngest one among them all.

“I could totally be the one she’s bending for,” he says, acting all nonchalant and unimpressed. Luke almost laughs with how full of bullshit his brother is. “She likes me.”

Luke sips on his beer, and Jack turns around, furrowing his eyebrows. “Why didn’t you say anything? Do you know something I do not?”

Luke places his glass on the counter and raises both of his hands. “Man, chill. If she likes you, if she doesn’t, it doesn’t matter; that’s not why we’re here today. It’s Mercer’s birthday, so suck it up, dude.”

Jack knows he should listen to his brother and act with his upper head, but it gets so hard— literally— when he has to stand there with his teammates and pretend he’s not watching your every move like a fucking creep.

He had never noticed how hot you were. He knew you were pretty, because only a blind person couldn’t do so, but hot? Yeah, no. You were usually the type of girl who wore large clothes, and even though he thought you were cute nonetheless, now that he’s seeing you with other eyes, he realizes he can’t live without having at least a taste.

But fucking Johnathan Kovacevic beats him to it, and Jack seriously wants to punch the guy in the face because really? Can that dumbass not see Jack spent the last thirty minutes or so eye fucking you? Like, hello?

He knows he can’t really be upset, but when you smile, bright and sweet, he swears he’s seeing red everywhere.

“Dude, chill, what the hell,” Jack hears someone say, but he doesn’t even acknowledge who. He just keeps staring as you lean forward to reach Kovacevic’s ear, standing on the tip of your toes.

You look so fucking gorgeous. Even if Jack believes you shouldn’t be wearing something that short— not because it doesn’t look good but because he can’t even protect you if someone decides to try something funny—, he knows you’re the most beautiful person he has ever seen.

Yet now you were laughing at Kovacevic, probably not even funny, jokes.

“Luke,” he calls his brother, who silently rolls his eyes before putting his phone down to give his brother his full attention. “Can you, like, help me out?”

“I’m not going to talk to her,” he says. “What is this, fifth grade? ‘Hey, Y/n, my brother really likes you and would like to hold hands during recess if that’s possible—‘” he says, doing a very annoying voice.

Jack holds in the need to punch him.

“No. I meant something like getting Johnathan out of there or something,” he explains. “So I can go talk to her.

“That’s just as childish but fine.”

Luke makes his way to where you and Johnathan were standing and says something that makes Kovacevic’s eyebrows meet his hairline and, the best part, also makes him leave.

So you’re standing in the middle of the dance floor by yourself, but not for long because—

“Hey, there, Y/n,” Jack greets you, trying his hardest to sound cool. You chuckle, smiling at him.

“Hi, Rowdy. How are you?”

“Better now.” He answers smoothly, which makes you laugh.

“You’re awful,” you grin. “Aren’t you supposed to be with Mercer? It’s his birthday…”

“I’d rather be here, with you,” he puts his hands inside his front pockets, and you stare at him closely. The hat he’s wearing makes him look hotter, even if it gets you a little bit sad because you can’t fully see his perfect, golden hair. “You look hot.”

You tilt your head, the unexpected compliment making you blush. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he hums. “You look even hotter now that you’re not talking to other guys.”

That makes you roll your eyes, even if you’re still smiling. “You sound like a toxic boyfriend.”

“I could be that, yeah,” he smirks.

“Toxic?” You raise your eyebrow.

“A boyfriend,” he presses his lips together. Then, “Your boyfriend.”

“Well,” you step closer, looking up at him. “I think we can make that work.”

He smiles before kissing you, and surely, the rest is story.

[azzibuckets]

sweet [part three]

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

word count: 2k

masterlist

Paige has only ever fallen in love once.

She knows that it’s wrong, everything against her moral code, to have a girl in her bed while thinking of another one entirely. But in the middle of the night, when Ella is fast asleep and Paige shifts away to her side of the bed, her thoughts can’t help but wander to soft brown eyes and long tan legs. When Ella chooses a sweater from her closet to throw on, she can’t help but think of how Azzi wore it better.

But these are just remnants of feelings, Paige reminds herself. She’d gotten over Azzi long ago, when she’d realized there was no chance her best friend could ever reciprocate the same feelings. Azzi was always the first one to slip out after sex, talking about having to study or do something important. More often than not, Paige woke up to an empty bed. Azzi was the one who always changed the subject whenever Paige brought up their situationship, clearly not wanting to take things further. Azzi was the one who had met Ella enthusiastically, patting Paige on the back.

In other words, Azzi Fudd was very much not in love with Paige Bueckers.

So Paige knows that it’s a good thing that Azzi seems to be distancing herself, that it would probably help snap whatever was going on them completely in half. A clean break from a universe where she’s not completely and utterly in love with the one person she can’t have. But Paige also knows that she’s going absolutely batshit crazy without her, which is how she finds herself outside of Azzi’s apartment in the middle of the night for the second time in two weeks.

As soon as the doors opens, Paige blurts out, “Did she say something to you?”

Azzi stares bleary eyed and dazed at her. Paige almost blushes at how cute Azzi looks in her little pajama shorts, the cloth riding up to show the smoothness of her thighs. Blushes. She needs to get ahold of herself.

“What?” Azzi’s sure she’s half hallucinating.

“If she said some shit to you, you can tell me. You know I don’t fuck with anyone who doesn’t fuck with you.”

“No, Paige.” Azzi rubs her temples. It’s always three steps forward and four steps back with them.

“Then what’s the problem?” Paige says, frustrated. “You‘ve barely been responding to any of my texts and you keep cancelling our plans.”

“The problem is that you’re willing to break up with your girlfriend for me!”

Paige’s expression turns sour. “That’s not what I said. I’m saying that you’re my best friend. And I care about what you think.”

“We’re not normal best friends, and you know it,” Azzi accuses. “Ella doesn’t deserve this. I know what it feels like, constantly worrying about another girl. It’s not fair of you to treat her like that.”

“You’re calling me a bad girlfriend?” Paige scoffs and looks away, a dirty taste in her mouth. “You don’t exactly have expertise in this area.”

Azzi’s lips tremble. “I can’t do this anymore, Paige.”

“Wait.” Paige reaches for her, flinching when Azzi pulls away. “I’m sorry, Az. I didn’t mean that.”

“I think we should-” Azzi exhales, gathering her thoughts. “We should take some space.”

“Space?” Paige wrinkles her nose. “We’re not even dating and you’re fucking breaking up with me?”

“It’s not like anything will change from the last few weeks.” Azzi folds her arms, looking like she’d rather be anywhere than here. “We barely even talk anymore and when we do, we’re fighting. This isn’t healthy. And - and Ella is good for you. She’s safe.”

“I don’t want space,” Paige says. “I can’t do space.” Her voice cracks, and Azzi only realizes now how bloodshot her eyes are, the bags underneath dark and pronounced. “Not from you.”

Azzi wipes her cheek with her sleeve. “I’m sorry.” She opens her mouth to say something, then cuts herself off by looking away, and Paige is well versed in everything Azzi - her body language, her habits, her tells - enough to know that the younger girl is hiding something from her.

“Say it.”

“Paige, stop.”

“Tell me!”

Azzi bites her bottom lip, worrying the skin with her teeth. “I was just gonna say…” she hesitates. “I was just gonna say that I’m seeing someone else too. So space would be good. For both of us. For me.”

“You’re seeing someone else?”

Azzi ducks her head. “It’s not any of your business, but yeah.”

“Who?”

“It’s really new. We’re not even dating yet.”

Paige’s heart drops. “Is it a girl?”

“Yeah.” Paige’s heart plummets all the way to the floor. A guy, maybe she could handle. A girl? There’s something so much more intimate about being with a woman, and she doesn’t know if she can handle even just thinking about Azzi lying in bed with another girl, touching another girl, loving another girl.

“Can I meet her?”

“I’m introducing her to the team next week. You can come if you want.”

Paige nods to herself, still trying to comprehend the fact that Azzi is with a woman - a woman that’s not her.

“I’m sorry.” Azzi repeats quietly. Then she turns her back, heading back to her room. “Lock the door on your way out.”

“Azzi.” It’s a last plea, a cry for help.

The younger girl halts, but she doesn’t turn around.

“We’re gonna be okay, right?” Paige’s voice is trembling.

“Of course we are.” But Azzi doesn’t sound so sure of herself.

Paige approaches her slowly from behind, putting her hands on her waist, hesitantly at first. When Azzi doesn’t move away, instead subconsciously leaning back into her touch, she rests her forehead on the younger girl’s shoulder, breathing in her scent, breathing in her. They stay like that for a few moments, breaths ragged, cheeks wet. Then Azzi’s covering her hands with her own, squeezing them gently before moving them away, stepping away, walking away, closing the door, and she’s gone.

Paige has only ever fallen in love once. Now, she thinks her heart has broken once too.

••

“I don’t like her.”

Ella brushes mascara over her lashes, dabbing at a dark blotch that had accidentally streaked her eyelid. “You haven’t even met her.”

“Well, I can already tell she’s a bitch.” Page grumbles, pacing the room for the fiftieth time that night.

“Don’t be insufferable,” Ella fixes Paige with a scrutinizing glare. “Come on, we’re gonna be late.” She grabs Paige’s hand, and Paige grimaces. Ella’s palms are always so clammy.

Much to Paige’s chagrin, her best friend isn’t even at her own apartment when they show up. The rest of the team is about to start the movie, so she sits in the corner with Ella as the lights dim. She can’t even eat the popcorn her girlfriend offers her, too busy thinking about what Azzi’s girl looks like.

Halfway through the movie, the door opens suddenly, and Azzi and the other girl fall in, giggling over something stupid. They freeze once they realize everyone’s eyes on them, but Azzi quickly straightens up and grabs her hand. “Everyone,” she says shyly. “This is Micaela.”

The entire team stands up at once, going to greet her with open arms, but Paige stays fixed to her seat, staring stubbornly at the movie. “Come on,” Ella gripes, nudging at her shoulder. “Don’t be rude.”

“Movie’s not done yet.” Paige finally reaches for the popcorn, steadfastly chewing the kernels without giving Micaela another glance.

Ella gives up, leaning back and folding her arms as she tosses another glare to the blonde. It’s only when Nika clears her throat that Paige looks up and realizes that everyone is staring at them expectantly.

Paige is resolved in her refusal to get up, but then she finally looks at Azzi. And Azzi is staring at her, with so much hurt and hope in her eyes, screaming you’re still my best friend, that Paige’s own chest hurts and she forces herself to stand up. “Hey,” she says gruffly, making her way over to Micaela and sticking out a reluctant hand. “Paige.”

“Paige! It’s so nice to meet you. I’m a huge fan!” Micaela gushes.

Paige arches an eyebrow at Nika, trying to hold back a laugh, but the brunette gives her a warning glare. Coughing away her laugh, Paige nods. “That’s cool. It’s nice to meet you too.” She glances over to Azzi, making sure she did okay. Azzi’s shoulders relax, her smile becoming a little brighter, and Paige’s eyes soften.

Everyone gathers on the couches to finish watching the movie, but all Paige can hear is the low tones coming from the kitchen, where Azzi and Micaela had stayed to make food. But when she enters, Micaela is gone, and Azzi is alone.

“Bathroom,” Azzi responds to Paige���s lifted eyebrow. Paige nods, opening up the cabinet and rummaging through the snacks, feeling the weight of Azzi’s stare on her back.

“We don’t have anymore Chex mix.”

Cursing under her breath, Paige closes the cabinet.

“Your girlfriend’s wearing my hoodie, by the way.”

Paige’s head snaps up. “What?”

“Her hoodie. It’s mine.” Azzi tilts her head, studying Paige carefully.

Paige’s face warms. “Sorry. I didn’t notice. She just took it off my bed.” Her blush intensifies when she realizes the mistake she’s accidentally just admitted, and from the tense look on Azzi’s face, she’d caught it too. But instead of addressing it, Azzi turns away, busying herself with making her sandwich.

Paige waits a little longer, hoping the younger girl will say something else, but she doesn’t. So when she returns and KK’s pouring out shots, she takes more than a few.

“Okay, y’all. We playing truth or dare,” KK announces after everyone’s had a few drinks in their system.

Ignoring the complaints, KK gathers everyone in a circle. “I’ll go first,” she declares.

With the shots she’d taken earlier, Paige feels a little loose, a nice warmth in her tummy. She’s almost relaxed when KK says, “I dare you to kiss the prettiest girl in the room.”

As if on instinct, Paige’s eyes flick to Azzi. It’s brief, and she only hesitates for a second, but it’s enough. Ella shifts uncomfortably beside her. KK is smirking, not even trying to hide the look on her face. And Paige swears she sees a hint of a smile on Azzi’s lips before she looks away.

“Come here,” she says softly, pulling Ella in and giving her a quick peck on the cheek.

“On the cheek is crazy,” she hears someone mutter. Jana elbows KK, who rolls her eyes.

KK goes around, insisting on a new version of truth or dare where she gets to ask everyone the question. Having grown accustomed to KK’s antics, no one even bothers to protest against her system.

“Azzi,” KK says. “Who was your New Year’s kiss?”

The whole team oohs. Last year, they’d been in a hotel for a game on the first day of January. Everyone had gathered in the lobby to watch the ball drop, but Paige had convinced Azzi to sneak off with her, saying that it just wouldn’t be right to start a new year without a kiss. Luckily, no one had put two and two together, but they’d all noticed Azzi returning with a goofy smile. Despite their pestering, Azzi had refused to tell them. Paige had thought it was to keep their situationship on the down low, but she realizes now that maybe it was because Azzi was embarrased of her. Her chest constricts.

“I can’t remember.”

Paige’s grip on her shot cup tightens. Azzi refuses to meet her eyes.

“Must’ve been pretty bad if you can’t remember,” Ice snickers. Paige swears she’s seeing red.

“Yeah.” Azzi pours herself another shot and drains it. “Must have.”

••

“I suck at a lot of things, but kissing isn’t one of them,” Paige says, her words slurring together.

“What did you want me to say? Both of our girlfriends were just sitting in there.” Azzi argues, just as buzzed as Paige is. The two of them glare at each other, the alcohol coursing through their bodies making them hotheaded. I wanted you to say that you kissed me. I wanted you to say that you liked kissing me. I wanted you to say that kissing you makes me feel alive in a way that nothing else can. I wanted you to feel the same. Paige’s chest heaves.

Micaela walks in, instantly picking up on the tension in the room. “Everything okay, babe?” Her hands circle Azzi’s waist as she eyes the blonde warily.

“Everything’s fine,” Paige says shortly. “We’re in the middle of something here. You can go.”

“I didn’t recall asking you.” Micaela snaps with a fire Paige didn’t know she had inside of her. “Are you good?” she directs the question at Azzi, drawing her closer.

“I’m fine.”

“Is she bothering you?”

Paige expects Azzi to open her mouth and tell Micaela off, like she always does whenever someone tries to pit the two of them against each other. Paige expects Azzi to laugh at the sheer thought of having to be saved from her best friend. But Azzi doesn’t do any of those things. She says, “Yeah, she is.” And she lets Micaela lead her away.

Is it possible to get your heart broken twice?

[taelophone]

Luigi M; A Look ⋆˙⟡ — A Luigi Mangione Analysis ⋆⭒˚｡⋆. A/N: I am not claiming to know or understand him as a person lol. I simply wanna do a lil surface dive on him as a person to try and shed some light on what I think he's like!

Please note; All links are tweets Luigi himself has reposted, or are things from his mouth that he has typed. VIA Reddit, twitter, etc etc. All retweets will be marked with *

⟡ Luigi as a person (good, and bad)

⋆ After many many hours of scouring this man’s socials and any sort of archive of him I can find, I’ve gathered a handful of interpretations and ideas as to what Luigi was like prior to his surgery. And I say that last part specifically because he showed a v drastic change directly after his surgery, and literally went M.I.A.

Luigi is a very empathetic and intelligent man, this is a surface level fact that we can all agree on. He’s been shown to go out of his way for other people even when he doesn’t have to. But please don’t let that fool you this man is a KEYBOARD. WARRIOR.

⋆ He LIVES for the debate. In fact, he fucking loves debating. I wouldn’t go as far as saying he loves arguing, but if there’s a point being made and he feels strongly about it, he will type pages upon pages of text explaining in great detail exactly why you are wrong.

He’s said time and time before in a retweeted post that freethinking* is a very important part of life, and here’s where I say he’s…a bit of a hypocrite. His love for debate kind of keeps him from seeing another person’s POV, which makes for a hell of a storm when disagreeing with him. In short, he’s stubborn. A very stubborn man, but he is open to hearing the other person out versus not listening to them at all.

And I have a strong feeling his stubborn demeanor coincides with the fact that he knows he’s smart. Don’t get me wrong, he seems like he usually knows what he’s talking about, but that’s the problem. If you tell him about something that’s been bothering you or going wrong in your life, he will spit out 99 solutions for you. He’s the kind of guy where he will probably resort to both comfort AND unsolicited advice, although its likely he got better at the latter later down the line.

⋆ Shying away from him being stubborn, there’s another key part of this man that I DONT SEE BEING TALKED ABOUT ENOUGHHH OMG. SASSY MAN. SASSY SASSY SAASSSSYY MAN.

You can expect shade, eye rolls, silent treatment, head shakes, and possibly even a snarky comment from him. He’s all about becoming a better person and stuck on self betterment, but he is not afraid to show his visible disdain for something. He has very dry and unexpected humor, but he doesn’t realize it. He’s funny in a way where he doesn’t mean to be.

But when he’s trying to make a joke? Oh god help me he’s so so so cheesy and so corny that it makes you just wanna curl up and die (but no seriously, he’s so corny that it’s funny). His sense of humor is so cheesy, think old vine and 2018 humor.

⋆ Another key part about him is his love for travel, and being a “geek” by nature! This man loooooovesss his Pokemon, let me tell you. Was in a whole subreddit dedicated to Pokemon go, word committed for half a page about backpacking essentials, and was almost always posted up somewhere that wasn’t his house. I can’t say he’s the type for spontaneous trips, as the only time he has been known to take was during the beginning of his breakdown.

Because of this, I feel like he’s more likely to be a marvel and MCU fan. He also read a couple of the Harry Potter books, and we can assume that he liked the series enough to rate them 5/5s lol

⟡ My takeaways. Deeper analysis

⋆ Luigi gives me massive INTJ vibes. Contrary to popular belief, I feel he’s more introverted rather than extroverted. He’s expressed clear comfort in solitude, and aligns perfectly with the personality category.

INTJ description;

“INNOVATIVE,INDEPENDENT, STRATEGIC, LOGICAL, RESERVED, INSIGHTFUL. DRIVEN BY THEIR OWN ORIGINAL IDEAS TO ACHIEVE IMPROVEMENTS.”

However, I could see him being an ISTP, who are characterized as

“ACTION-ORIENTED, LOGICAL, ANALYTICAL, SPONTNEOUS, RESERVED, INDEPENDENT. ENJOY ADVENTURE, SKILLED AT UNDERSTANDING THINGS.”

⋆ He’s a very big geek! More than likely has a soft spot for nostalgia content or things that remind him of childhood. We can expect him to be into things like Ben10, Cartoon Network, old Nickelodeon, and other shows such as The Office, Law & Order, true crime, and philosophy content!

⋆ Expect him to be a giving lover. Would absolutely love words of affirmation, quality time, and acts of service. He’d be more than willing to give you gifts and shower you in lavishes, but it’s not his main love language as he believes love goes beyond materialism and who can spend the most on who. Handmade gifts are a go! Expect 3D printed trinkets, pictures, cards, etc etc.

⋆ Absolute communication god. He’s stubborn, but he’s not stubborn enough to not tell you when something is wrong. It’s just not his speed and he thinks it’s pointless to not tell someone, especially your partner, when he’s upset or what’s got him in a bad mood. He also expects this same behavior from you as well. The whole “I don’t wanna tell you what’s wrong” shindig would annoy the FUCK out of him. FAST.

⋆ He doesn’t give possessive or jealous lover type ngl. Growing up with two sisters and being absolutely showered in female companionship, he understands how that could possibly make you feel and doesn’t even blame you for it. As a result, he’d be extremely understanding if you were friends with men.

⋆ Please don’t ever get in an argument with this man lmfao. That is one battle you cannot and WILL NOT win. If it’s petty and a matter of “I didn’t say so and so,” he WILL show up with receipts. Would very much start busting out his big boy words just to confuse you. Catch him throwing old English into the mix. But if it’s a legitimate argument, and you have a reason to be upset, he will apologize before it can even get off track.

⟡ Luigi’s Brain

⋆ Alright kids here’s where we get a little controversial. What’s going on in Luigi’s mind?

I just wanna start this section off by saying I am not a licensed psychologist, nor do I major in psychology. I have no ties to this topic whatsoever, and am just speaking from what I’ve seen in myself, and what I’ve seen in him.

Neurodivergence. Luigi has a habit of exuding very neurodiverse behavioral patterns that I could tie to one of two things. Autism, or OCD.

⋆ Luigi openly expressed a lot about his wills and wants on his various social media platforms, and one thing I’ve noticed is his strong need or drive for self-improvement. Please don’t get me wrong, it is incredibly important to want to improve yourself and that is a perfectly healthy goal to have. However, Luigi’s drive for self-improvement and ‘getting better’ had a direct impact on his relationships, lifestyle, and more. This is likely what influenced his 6 month period of self-isolation and cutting off his family members.

Perfectionism “type” OCD is a branch of the umbrella term of OCD in which can be identified by repetitive behaviors, such as excessive exercise, something he continued to engage in even with a bad back, insistence on specific routines or ways to do things to achieve perfection, and occasionally rigid and inflexible thinking patterns, as I described him being likely to have above.

not everyone experiences OCD the same way, and me and Luigi are obviously going to experience it differently considering we are two completely different individuals. As someone with perfectionism OCD, I am just calling what I see in my eyes.

⋆ I saw someone make the argument a while back that Luigi could possibly be a narcissist, and while I don't necessarily deny that he can come off as pompous in some of his tweets, I do not think this is the case.

For Luigi to be a narcissist means that he wouldn't be able to make meaningful connections with people around him. Every person that has met or come into contact with Luigi only had good things to say, but I'd like to focus on his...straightforward or out-of-touch* tweets.

Luigi is a no-nonsense man. He's very left-brained and thinks as such, literally. He demonstrates a tendency to solve and think and plow through anything he registers as a problem. Have you ever asked "well, why can't we just print more money?" when told about the cash crisis? That's exactly whats going on in this tweet.

His first instinct when faced with the topic of Japan's birth rate is to try and solve it. Luigi may be hyperfixated on stats and data, which would clarify why he allegedly word-vomited to the hoes about birth rate data. He's not trying to come off as rude or ignorant, and frankly, I don't really think his tweet is that crazy either, he just might not know that this isn't something considered a social topic.

I feel like we're ignoring a lot of his more out-of-touch* (re)tweets, though. Scrolling through Luigi's page, I can understand what he's trying to get at, though lol. He's made it very clear that he's an intense supporter of complete equality*, he doesn't want anybody to be undermined in their contributions to society. Regardless of gender, sexual identity, race, etc. But again, he's thinking so literally and has trouble effectively communicating that in a way that is "neurotypical." This paired with the way he word vomits, and just his overall typing style and cadence, It just feels like he may be on the spectrum!

I do not have a link for this as his Reddit account was fucking obliterated, BUT, I do remember it being rumored that Luigi was apart of several neurodivergent support groups and subreddits!

I hope I helped humanize him a bit more for you guys! Lmk what you think of this little summary as it’s my first time doing something like this EVER lmfao😭

[nothoughtsjustficrecs]

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Omg Vernon you absolute shit omg

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

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

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

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

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

But seriously im loving this so far! the shenanigans ehehehe

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

If his favourite movie is anything other than Shrek I quit

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

YESSSSS SHREKKKK

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐦𝐛𝐫𝐨-𝐳𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐝

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

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

𝒘 𝒐 𝒓 𝒅 𝒄 𝒐 𝒖 𝒏 𝒕 : 21.7k words

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

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

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

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

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

back to masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ah, the fated question. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His eyes darted to the newcomer. 

They stayed as he beheld you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You smiled at him.

Then dropped the bomb.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“My god, you’re a filmbro!” 

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

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

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

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

There was one, solitary, quiet moment.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A tilt of your head. “Are you lying?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hello again, Mr. Filmbro.”

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

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

He would be cordial—kind.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Shit. 

Maybe his irrational dislike ran further than he thought.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Disney Princess Movie Set—Complete Edition.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“They’re for my ex-boyfriend.” 

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

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

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

“Oh?” Small world. “What’s the name?”

“Kim Mingyu. Do you know him?” 

Vernon Chwe nearly shit his oversized jeans.

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

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

Right. 

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

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

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

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

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

A half-truth—that should suffice. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So much for minding his business.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What master plan?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Absolutely.”

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

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

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

“Did _____ actually?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You, that is.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Vernon visibly shivered. 

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

“Damn it,” he said under his breath. 

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

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

vernon: u dont have to wait till next week 

vernon: ill help u with the plan

There. And now, he shall wait.

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

normal disney enjoyer: wait who tf is this??

Oops. 

vernon: oh mb this is vernon lmao

vernon: from the filmstore

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

vernon: ??? ive said it now tf

normal disney enjoyer: and im happy u have ;)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nevermind.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Of course not. “Sure.” 

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

Sure. “Of course not.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I wonder why,” he muttered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Swear on my life, Mr. Filmbro.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then an idea came into his head. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Tell me.” 

“No.”

“Tell me!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mr. Filmbro…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He blinked back. 

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

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

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

“Is this where magic comes from?”

“What the fuck?!”

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

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

You nearly burst out laughing. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Still, he knew it was now or never.

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

He whipped his head around, anticipating the worst.

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

Oh. Jesus. Christ.

“The nerd from film theory?”

Vernon’s face dropped. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“_____?”

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

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

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

“This is for calling me a stupid bitch.”

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

And run for your life.

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

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

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

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

The car revved to life at your signal.

It was time to get the fuck out of here. 

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

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

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

Just then, you burst into laughter. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You and your fuck ass movie collection…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

A glance at you. “Yep.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How recently are we saying?”

“...yesterday evening.” 

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

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

He then looked at you. “Oh, Jesus.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, Jesus—”

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

Oh, he was stunned alright. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That dread disappeared instantly when Flynn confessed his little secret.

“Eugene Fitzherbert?!” The boy demanded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was then Vernon heard your favourite Disney song.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Standing here, it’s oh! so clear…!”

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

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

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

You were already looking at him. 

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

“I’m where I’m meant to be!” 

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

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

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

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

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

You would have only sang your favourite song to him. 

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

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

“All at once…everything looks different…”

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

“Now that I…see you.”

Shit. You were rather beautiful before him.

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

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

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

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

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

In any romantic comedy, he would have kissed her.

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

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

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

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

“I should make you wait.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What would answering a heated question do any harm?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This time, Vernon was prepared when you kissed him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

VERNON LOST HIS VIRGINITY WITH SHREK PLAYING IN THE BACKGROUND.

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

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

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

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

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

Your rating, on the other hand, differed slightly. 

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

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

“But am I wrong, though?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, both have Sandra Bullock in them…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

mr. filmbro: yo where u at

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

You rolled your eyes.

_____: im coming to save u kitten.

mr. filmbro: :0

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What your gaze ended up on was someone completely different. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A ghost of a smirk. “Sofia’s.”

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

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

“I thought you were gonna wear all black.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[weepingtalecowboy]

Why are we even making fierce deity special when legend exists

Fanfic prompt:

You know what in comparison to like the canon gods we met fierce deity is just a 6,3 dude with a big unpractical sword and that’s it

Like that’s literally it the beams it can shoot legend was capable of shoot as young as link to the past lol

Four can shoot beams in four swords adventures

Sky has his beam fancy and called a skyward strike

And in triforce heroes legend has a legit cosplay that guess what …can shoot beams

We don’t need to make the fierce deity feel special because it really really isn’t lol

The windfish can create a whole island on a whim and we know that marin at the very least exists so that cannot just be a dream

Because she is chilling in hyrule warriors very much real looking in my opinion

Fierce deity can’t do that from what I saw of it

Fierce deity just a rat in comparison

Honestly would be hilarious if time was worried about the deity until he realized that the deity is his least worrying problem next to legend

Legend clowned on the deity,…

Just saying the den of trials is not the hardest dungeon he had to deal with

Honestly now that I think about it

Legend might actually be a deity

Like death is no problem because you die in cadence of Hyrule for upgrades and with barely any consequences… like at all

He can shoot beams (which seems to be all you need to be a deity nowadays)

Eats ganon for lunch every other week (or adventure)

Has the fierce deity outfit from an actual trial in hytopia

Interacted with …the windfish and has the ability to wake a god,… and build dungeons in its dream

Saved din and Nayru in the oracle games (farore was there as an easter egg)

Fought onox a non ganondorf evil demon thingy with god like powers who tried to control the concept of time by possessing Nayru, and tried to light the flame of destruction to annihilate the whole world

He could control time and space

Change the seasons on a whim

See the future and met the fates of past, and future in cadence of Hyrule (past let’s you come back to life , future tells you where you have to go )

He has like the golden three

The Windfish

And the fates as friends (or acquaintances but then again the windfish likes him canonically for waking him… the fates kinds are actually helpful)

Like honestly legend probably is more of a god for having the golden Doritos every new adventure for breakfast (he probably carries them after cadence of Hyrule or maybe the fates go out their way to revive him anytime he dies … but it’s probably the Doritos

He wishes on the triforce enough to have it on straight up speed dial

Like… probably literally having it on his hand because everyone gave up on building temples for it when they can just give it to the guy who holds it as often as one holds their tooth brush

If we include the royal blood thing as in the mortal with the blood of the goddess

And him and fable being siblings

Then he should be named legendary hylia and nothing else will be tolerated

Like dude is already named legend

And names hold power and significance

Fierce deity probably is his guard dog

Not because hylia's true reincarnation needs help but because it is the legendary hylia's purse dog Anna fun accessory

While time is freaking out that legend could be off legendary status,… honestly I think that was obvious

I feel so bad for hyrule because how the hell can you possibly even TRY to live up to the legacy of a god like being beyond death and capable of ending world destructive threats and has more godly friends then he has mortal ones

It's like ridiculously unfair lol

The chain has a few deities on their group yet sky is not the god in this scenario

Warriors was making fun of a literal god like being , time, sky , etc. probably realize that while he doesn’t lol

And legend probably doesn’t even know that he is as close to a god as one can possibly be

[gallusgalluss]

please unleash your inspekta thoughts

your art is amazing i cant stop looking at it

i hope you have a happy new year!!

happy new year anon n thank you :]!!!!

also ur so evil ur letting me unleash my Inspekta thoughts,,,,how cruel how cruel

im going full yapper mode + there's spoilers so Watch Out

I like Inspekta, he's a little freak and a really interesting character to think about. While, for me, the twist with him wasn't totally a surprise (I did Not trust his cuteness the second i saw him lmao), I REALLY liked the way his character progressed throughout the game. He's your buddy! He's your pal! Don't worry about all these posters and weird plushies and standees and propaganda of him everywhere and how he keeps being called “the one and only god”, it's Fine it's Fine! He's sillay :D!!!

I'm generally just obsessed with characters who are put into leadership positions who absolutely Should Not have that amount of power over people, and I think Inspekta's a perfect example of that type of thing for me.

He had his own fears, loneliness, and jealousy cloud his judgment and that resulted in some Really Fucked Up Stuff. As a mortal he wanted to be special in the eyes of the public, so he gained enough popularity to get elected to be a god! Yay! But now he's scared of being forgotten and there's a new possible god being elected, wuh oh! Time to ruin Literally Everything because what's the easiest way to be remembered, worshiped, and loved by all if there's no more competition for your rule? Empty heavens, baby!!! Let's bring in an apocalypse!!! Yay!!!!!

Bro's fucked up and I like that.

I love how despite it all he still tries this whole Cute Buddy Friend act, even at the end with this Worm Form. Cause he KNOWS the other gods would trust and believe him and the lies he's spread about King's shocking letters, cause why wouldn't they? He's just a silly lil cutie pie! They all trust him! He's the God of Leadership! How could a Leader lead others astray? And he knows the Bizzyboys will follow him as well since he's been leading them pre-godhood for several years. He's a role model to them all, starting from nothing and now he's a god! He's just so trustworthy and sweet and will totally save the day!

Also I just wanted to include this somewhere. I really like this section (after Chapter 3, I think???)

He has this brief moment of vulnerability/sincerity/something that made him drop his “Cutesy Voice”. Like aside from this scene, near the end of chapter 5, and i Think a few parts i'm 100% forgetting, I don't think we actually see this more contemplative n genuine side of Inspekta.

He does instantly goes into gloating about himself and how he's Clearly the MOST IMPORTANT GOD OF ALL (before correcting himself to include the other gods, of course, of course).

Like if he didn't have that Ego-the-size-of-the-galaxy + Saddest Scaredest Loneliest Most Jealous Withdrawn Loser combo, all he had to do was to just Talk To People. He could've Talked to people about his Fears and Insecurities. Even the other gods; after all he's done, were still there for him! Like “Hey dude this is fucked up, we all already love you dummy, you can talk to us ya know you're allowed to feel scared!”

He's just the cutest most moe creature with soooo many issues and problems he needed to figure out.

NOW WITH HECTOR

Most of my Inspekta Thoughts can just be applied to him but slightly modified. I think it's interesting how he chose to go back to being a regular person, it makes sense cause he's like Aware of the amount of damage he's done/could've done. While he certainly won't be forgotten after Everything he's done, he isn't going to be as Grand and Powerful as he wished to be.

He's just a guy in his 50s who's trying to get over his God Complex of 33 years and also attempt to gain back the trust and respect of the Grove’s people. He's definitely going to be bearing the weight of what he's done for the rest of his life probably, but it IS interesting thinking about what he'd do to actually improve himself now, learn how to be a person again n such.

He’s also a sad miserable booboo beast of a man and i think him suffering in anguish is awesome!!!!!!! yay!!!!

This turned into more a character analysis of some sorts instead of solely my own personal thoughts, whoops. Anyways i think his designs, all 3 of em are really fun to draw. He's cute n stretchy and marketable, as all gods should be.

so ya basically inspekta/hector sucks, i hate him, and we should kill him with hammers. now. thank you 💖💖💖

[thefandomenchantress]

General Thoughts About Eden's Garden

I have, at long last, finished chapter one of Eden's Garden. And I really liked it! While it wasn't perfect, I still really enjoyed playing it and am very glad I got to experience it. Since I wasn't around for the Another fangames, this is the first time I've been able to keep up with a project like this as it's coming out, and it's been really cool.

So, without further ado, let's get started! Project Eden's Garden spoilers below. :)

I'll start with my criticisms, since I don't have a lot of them. Honestly, my biggest complaint has to be the technical issues I faced while trying to play this game instead of watching it. But I'm not going to sit here and pretend making a game is easy by any means, so I don't really hold that against the game, even if it was frustrating.

Plus, I'm an idiot. I sat for like half an hour trying to figure out the Non-Stop debate controls and thinking my WASD thingy was malfunctioning and not letting me switch truth bullets, when there was only one truth bullet I was allowed to use at the time. I was just being stupid and not catching on when it only showed me one truth bullet in the corner, haha. The repeated crashing of my game, however, wasn't my fault. But I was able to get my hands on a work-in-progress low-spec version of the game that stopped most of the crashing and stuff! After that, most issues went away, except for after the trial ended and the after-trial dialog wouldn't pop up, leaving me on a black screen even after a restarted my computer and tried a few more times. But I'm not too unhappy about that, it's not like I was missing any riveting gameplay sections, haha. I could just watch the YouTube version of the execution and stuff.

Other than those technical difficulties on my end, there are only a few actual problems I had with the gameplay, haha. The first being that I am terrible at bullet hell-styled gameplay, apparently, and Argument Altercation kicked my ass in normal mode. I really wish there was a way to switch your difficulty on that, or maybe checkpoints, because after about thirty or more tries of not being able to get past stage three, I gave up and ended up just getting my hands on a save file from after the minigame. I may love videogames, but that does not mean I'm good at them, haha.

As for the actual writing, I don't have too many complaints...I suppose if I had to say something, though, it'd be that some of the characters felt like they didn't have enough to do this chapter. Ulysses is probably the main one I felt this applied to, even if I love him, he didn't give us too much this chapter, other than a lore drop during the pharmacy investigation (His limited screentime didn't stop me from growing attached to him, though haha). Other characters, despite getting a little more screentime, felt like they didn't really develop at all in the grand scheme of things. But I don't want to focus in on this too much, since it's only chapter one and most characters usually don't start having any big changes until a murder occurs. And the disproportional screentime may just be the writing style of Eden's Garden being that they focus on a certain group of characters each chapter, when they have the most relevance. Wenona, for example, feels like she's being set up to be a larger player down the line, even if she wasn't a super major character this chapter.

There was a lot more I liked about the chapter than disliked, though! All the characters really grew on me, for the most part. Well...Almost everyone. There is one character who I'm kinda meh on right now, since I'm not quite sure what they're going for yet. He's entertaining, I like him fine, but he's not quite on the same level as everyone else. And that character is:

Jett.

Honestly, I think the main reason I'm having trouble is just how he treats Toshiko.

Jett, why are you picking on a literal child??? What are you doing??? This wouldn't bother me if I knew an explanation for it that gives cool insight into his character, but as is I'm just kinda annoyed at him for it. Then again, I haven't bothered to experience any of his FTEs yet, so it's possible he gives some sort of explanation for his child-belittling ways there, haha.

The Mark and Jett thing was fine, I'm liking the set-up there. I think the only difference that makes me like the Jett and Mark stuff over the Jett and Toshiko stuff is that Damon actually calls Jett out for not respecting Mark's boundaries, meanwhile no one really reprimands him for belittling Toshiko because of her age. When he shares her blackmail, no one says "Hey, man, that wasn't very cool of you." They just shrug Toshiko's blackmail off and say no one should share anything else. Wolfgang even calls her blackmail a "joke". No wonder Toshiko is so desperate to be respected, everyone but Ingrid is so rude to her (I can forgive Grace, though, because the gremlin bit was the funniest thing in the prologue to me).

Of course, if they end up calling out his behavior towards her later, as well as everyone else's, I'll be happy and probably end up liking him more. His whole never taking off his helmet thing is pretty cool, I'm interested to see where that goes and to see any character development he has. And him and Cassidy's little friendship being established through gaming was fun.

...Writing all this out actually made me appreciate Jett a little more, since I don't think I would be able to say this much about some of the other characters...I mean if I felt something other than passive enjoyment maybe they’re doing something right…

Oh, right, there were other characters this chapter. Let's get onto them!

Damon was just as entertaining as last time, I'm excited to see what happens next with him. Him letting Diana defend herself made it seem like he was going to be more empathic to others and improve, but Eva betraying him might mean he starts trusting the others even less than before.

In daily life, Eva...Might've been my favorite. Don't get me wrong, Kai is still my favorite character overall, but I loved Eva in daily life so much. Her "Bweh..." and "Raaaage..." voicelines are some of my favorites in any fangan and I'm happy I experienced all her FTEs. I loved her in daily life, deadly life was...Still fine and good, the execution was super well-animated and cool. But her being the culprit did sort of undercut my enjoyment a little, since it sort of calls into question the truthfulness of certain aspects of her character that made me like her. Still really cool, though.

Kai was great. I'm going to make a post dedicated to him later, where I'm sure I'll ramble on and on for a while, so for now I'll keep it brief. He was just as funny as last time, surprisingly helpful in the class trial, his large amount of screentime was a pleasant surprise to me, I'm super excited to see if he'll be the new support, and his FTEs were really cool. I'm super hyped to ramble about everything concerning him later.

Ulysses, despite his limited screentime, managed to be pretty charming this time around. Him already telling backstory stuff to us makes me a little worried for if he'll die soon, but oh well. Him literally saying "um, actually" when he starts his objection was great. Toshiko calling him ugly in...the Prologue, I think(?), was blatantly incorrect because I really like his design. There's something about his color scheme that I enjoy, idk. Plus, owls are my favorite animal, so I was pretty much guaranteed to like his theming.

Diana being heavily suspected by the fanbase and then being suspected in-universe in the trial was cool, the whole "choose the culprit" minigame legitimately tricked me into thinking it was her for a hot minute...Until I remembered how much unused evidence we had, haha. Excited to see where she goes from here.

Wolfgang...Damn those sprites in the Diana flashback were cool. I should definitely check out his FTEs to get a little more context, but wow. While I'm not surprised he was the chapter one victim, I'm a little disappointed we'll never hear more from him.

Grace was great, her demeanor is kinda similar to another favorite character of mine, so I've become pretty endeared to her. I'm interested in seeing where the bunny symbolism goes, and how she'll react to Wolfgang being gone. She had no FTEs (her actually responding when I tried to enter her dorm (I was doing an experiment to see if I could enter anyone but Kai's and Damon's) jumpscared me haha), so I'm guessing she'll live a bit longer and receive some character development! Yay!

Wenona was fun, her attitude was as entertaining as ever. She's probably one of the characters I most want to go do the FTEs of, I'm interested to hear more about her.

Desmond and Eloise's friendship was fun, the scene where they try to get Grace to let them in Wolfgang's room was definitely the highlight of both their characters for me this chapter. Eloise standing up for herself during the confrontation and Desmond backing her up without hesitation was awesome. Can't wait to see their friendship expanded on (And Desmond being angsty during the closing argument was hilarious).

Toshiko and Jett already had most of my thoughts laid out above. Jett I've mostly finished describing, but I did like Ingrid and Toshiko's friendship this chapter. Toshiko's whole pretending-she's-totally-not-freaking-out-and-being-actively-traumatized thing was good, I liked how she was desperate to sound smart in the trials, it fits her character.

Mark was a little ruder than I thought he'd be going in, but I'm not complaining. While I don't think anything topped "Grace, call the fire brigade" this chapter, some things got pretty close, like his annoyed facial expression when you agree with him. Him not wanting to be acknowledged at all at the gaming tournament was interesting, I'm excited to see where they take his character.

Ingrid...Was fine. I'll be honest, I was a little disappointed at how my view of her failed to change at all this chapter. Even her blackmail was something we learned in the Prologue already. Still, I can appreciate her. Even if she didn't change much this chapter, I still like what she is right now. She's all-around pretty cool, and I like how she makes sure to defend Toshiko, unlike some characters I know. /j

(Her being called "reliable" made me immediately feel like she might not last long, though... :()

Jean is pretty interesting to me so far, Cassidy suggesting that he might just be posing as a 'pirate' was intriguing. Him saying there was an arcade on his ship made me think of a crack theory that he worked at a Chuckie Cheese type place, but instead of there being a strange mouse, you could hang around at his prop ship and take pictures with him and his "crewmates" (Co-workers or employees) in costume, with an arcade and snack bar nearby...His knowledge of machinery stuff is also cool. I should check out his FTEs.

Cassidy's whole gaming gimmick is cool, and I like her, but I think if I'm being honest, her fun design and awesome voice actor kinda carry her for me. I don't think she'd be one of my favorites to hear speak otherwise. Some of her voicelines are just hilarious by themselves, too, though ("I better zip up my fly, my genius is showing" was my favorite, like what the fuck that is so random and funny and she only uses it once). She's a character who I don't think I'd find nearly as funny if the vocal delivery wasn't as on point as it is, but seeing as it's totally awesome and on point I have nothing to complain about she’s really cool haha.

And those are all my general thoughts on each of the characters. Now onto a few individual moments I really liked!

I replayed the Prologue before playing through chapter 1, and something really cool I noticed was that when they're on the train, this happens after Cassidy says she smells something weird:

I thought it was really cool how they subtly foreshadowed his lack of a sense of smell like that! The devs really thought his character through from the beginning, I suppose.

But moving on to chapter 1, specifically the trial. One detail I really liked was this:

“Near the boiler room door, I discovered a thin piece of metal.”

“During the investigation, there was a strange smell permeating the boiler room. It took me a moment to notice, but when I did…”

Damon takes credit for both the scrap metal and the smell.

This happens very directly with the metal, where he says that he discovered it. While he does admit he didn't think the metal was important before, what he fails to do is give credit to Ulysses for pointing it out to him, since Damon didn't notice it until Ulysses did. And when Ulysses did notice it, Damon berated him for even writing it down. And yet now here he is, pretending that he took note of the piece of metal all by himself.

He also takes credit for finding the smell, albeit slightly less directly. But he still makes it sound like he noticed it by himself, when Jean was the one who had to directly point it out to him. And even then, Damon could only smell the generator at first, and Jean had to further explain what he meant. And Damon pretty much plagiarizes his description of the smell without crediting him, too. You’d think a debater would know how to cite their sources correctly, haha.

So long story short, Damon fails to mention that he got help investigating from both Ulysses and Jean. I find that interesting because even though Damon says he can only rely on himself right before this trial starts, he is actively ignoring that he is only able to steer the trial in the right direction at certain points because of the help he received from others. The game is both proving his point about him only relying on himself (+Eva this trial) wrong, while also letting the player further see his mindset. Pretty cool. (Though I’d honestly be kinda pissed if I was Ulysses haha).

I also really liked Eva this chapter. Legitimately the first chapter death I've been most sad about in any Fangan. Usually I see the fake-out support thing coming a mile away, since it's such a common thing in fangans, but they genuinely fooled me with Eva. I really got attached to her and I'm sad to see her go.

I still haven't really fully processed her character, but what I do know is that she's really cool and relatable and her voice actor is very talented. Her design is amazing. Her sense of humor is immaculate. Overall, amazing character I was devastated to see go.

One cool detail I noticed, in order to commemorate my love for her:

After avoiding Grace, which Damon theorizes was because she didn't want her talent mocked, she investigates the Dining Hall people. And yet, even though she mentions Jett and Mark being unhelpful, she says nothing about Kai.

This could be shrugged off by the fact Kai said something helpful about the footsteps when Damon approached, but since Kai says this info like he hasn't shared it with anyone else, I don't think that's the case. Instead, I think this confirms Damon's suspicion that she is avoiding those who mocked her real talent, since Kai is definitely a jerk about it to her face on at least two occasions. She legitimately just didn't speak with him. That really hits home just how uncomfortable Eva was with a lot of the people in the killing game.

(I'll talk more about this in the Kai post, but Eva not mentioning Kai when you enter the dining hall, and Desmond also not mentioning where he went before that, made me actually start worrying that we were gonna find a second body haha, that's why I noticed this).

Lastly, I'd just like to say:

Even Desmond and Eloise being like "dude no stfu" at Diana in this CG was hilarious and I love it.

[yunazxxx]

gp daniela x manon 🙏⁉️

pairing ≫ meret manon x daniela avanzini

content warnings ≫ best friends to lovers trope , g!p daniela , unprotected sex , slight getting caught , manon has a situationship but hes hella irrelevant.. , drug usage (marijuana) ,, etc maybe??

word count ≫ 2.7k

author talks ≫ happy new years my lovessss !!! i would love to start off this year strong with this danon fic which i hope you all + my lovely anon here who requested it, will enjoy it. and yeah, enjoy the read !! — ps not very proofread so ntm.. — this has hella fillers that probably arent relevant but i dont care…

—

"he still hasn't responded" the brunette repeated for the sixth time within the last three hours, she was over at daniela's place for the month as they usually would just come live with one another. there were no issues with manon's current living situation, she just wanted to go over dani's for a while.

daniela sighed while she was tying her hair up, "put the phone down girl" and manon looked up at her, "come on, then he'll text once that happens" and daniela just looked at the brunette, "come onnn, at least have some fun."

and manon shut off her phone, putting her hands up, "phone's off" and daniela took her hand, "you won't be needing it today" and she slid the older's phone in her purse. she walked with her out of the room, leaving out to the garage to her car.

daniela had plans set with her friend, they actually had been together for a while but they failed to execute because of manon's boyfriend, or more so situationship/boytoy. daniela really had a distaste for him, he was, really fucking weird.. daniela couldn't figure out why though.

the more time daniela spent with manon and this guy, she began to think that maybe he wasn’t the only problem. this dawned on her when she would see them kiss or be affectionate towards each other, it made her sick to the stomach.

sometimes when she would be drunk at a club, or bar, with manon and the guy she’d be all over manon kissing her, and even when manon would be the one to initiate the kiss, daniela would pull the doler by her waist and grab at her.

it was then and there daniela realized she had feelings for her, but obviously she’d just have to play it off, never knowing how to exactly say it to the brunette.

after daniela started her car, she began blasting a random playlist she had been on for a while, a song coming on called “better than the boys” which she just let it play and acted like it wasn’t there for a obvious reason.

while the pair drove along the highway, daniela was speeding, literally fast enough that it could get her a ticket or in a accident but almost no one was out right now because it was business hours. the pair were making thier wway to this meet up thing that they were invited to an outing with their friend group.

while daniela drove down the empty roads, the windows were down while they blasted music. manon practically hung out the window while they sung along to this song, but as they reached their destination, she went back in.

daniela parked her car and manon got out, daniela sat inside and turned off the car, turning around and seeing her friend making funny faces in the car window. daniela laughed while she opened the door and got out, her and manon walked to the building together.

they walked inside and were imidiately met with their friends hugging them, it had been months since they last met up so finally having this time to just, have a breather out meant the world to them. they were at the mall, pretty much just shopping at random stores and joking with one another, as they usually do.

they went into a jewlery store, since they made customs and daniela and manon wanted to get somethng for one another. the group split into twos, daniela had a few of their friends with her while manon did too.

everyone had their own little job, but soon the girls got distracted and kind of forgot what they were supposed to be doing but daniela and manon were able to make the jewlery they knew the other would like, or more so love.

manon had purchased daniela a necklace with both of their initals and a heart between them, and even had a handwritten note for the blonde, while daniela also made manon a necklace with a special charm and had got her some extra things.

it was a new years tradition for their friend group, it worked like secret santa really, they'd be given paper inside of a box or bowl, even a hat with their names on it, and kinda similar to last year, they got each other.

after the mall trip, they headed to the second oldest in their friend groups house, sophia's. they all gathered in the living room and revealed who they had, they had the most random order, going from first letter in their last names.

daniela walked over to manon, giving her the bag and turning to go sit back in her seat, but manon pulled her shirt and handed her the bag, and winked at her. daniela went to sit, yoonchae stood up giving lara a heavy, ass box, which lara almost dropped.

"what the heck is in here?" lara asked, "oh my god" you could hear someone exclaimed, yoonchae giggled going back to her seat, sophia walked over to megan giving her another heavy ass box — which the ginger just laughed at but setting it on her lap.

lara put the box beside her, standing up and giving three different little boxes to sophia, confusing the black haired woman, and finally megan handed yoonchae a small, box? which she just kept smiling reallly big about.

daniela opened her bag first, seeing the necklace and screaming out of joy, running over to hug the brunette while also prompting her to open hers but manon shook her head, "there's more in yours" and daniela opened it more, and saw the paper, and read it almost tearing up, she looked at manon, "i'm gonna get you later"

making the group burst into laughter, "lets hurry it up we got stuff to do after thiss!!!" sophia yelled, and so all the girls opened their gifts, but yoonchae because megan told her to wait, that very heavy ass box that lara got from yoonchae not only had legos but also other things she wanted and had been talking about for months.

the other gifts were pretty much the same for the other girls, the tiny box yoonchae had still confused her, even asking megan "what could fit in here?" and when she opened it, it was a pair of keys which she just looked at megan, and they went outside together and thats when you could hear yoonchae scream.

the younger girl ran inside of the house, she looked so energetic. megan came back in, laughing her heart out but the two girls soon explained why she was reacting like that, it was pretty much after this were all the girls had a random energy burst and they were all playing around and just enjoying quality time.

daniela and manon broke off from the other girls, going upstairs together because they needed to "refresh" themselves, which was really just code for they needed to smoke. they were inside of sophia's room, and cracked a window, daniela pulled something from her jacket pocket, a blunt, handing it to manon.

since the brunette was sitting closest to the window, she took the first pull of it, daniela just watching her in awe. "why are you looking at me like that?" the brunette asked, "ah, um.. nothing" daniela softly whispered when manon passed her the blunt.

daniela took her pull, but moved closer to manon, grabbing her face and blowing the smoke in her mouth, after doing this daniela pulled her into a kiss, which manon responded to. but this kiss wasn't a small peck, or just a few seconds, the kiss grew deeper overtime and so did the need for each other.

manon broke off the kiss, looking into daniela's hooded eyes, and sheeh chuckeled, "that was crazy" she said before taliking another pull of the blunt, daniela licked her lips, looking at manon. "could we do something more, fun?" manon looked at the blonde, taking another pull of it before putting it out, "what's on your mind?"

daniela smiled before taking manon's hand and tackling her to the bed, she held the older's wrist together, using one of her hands while the other cupped manon's cheek while she kissed her, daniela's knee resting between manon's leg.

daniela's kisses quikly made manon feel enchated, like she was stuck under a spell by her friend. manon whined into the kiss, causing daniela to break it, "ah ah ah, stay quiet" and she kissed down the older's neck.

she left hickeys, even a special heart one where daniela loves to kiss her sometimes. the older woman tried moving her hands but failed, her body reacting to daniela's movements almost like she was perfectly made for daniela's touch.

manon whimpered and whined, almost getting loud enough that could bring someone to the room, which happened. a knock came at the door, since it was locked, "manon? are you okay?" you could hear sophia asking, and daniela didn't stop so manon could reply, she instead kept moving down.

she slowly removed pieces of manon's clothing, "a- yeah, i'm good soph" manon was able to get out before quietly moaning daniea's name, you could slight uncertainty in the black haired woman's voice when she replied, "okay .... uh is dani in there?"

daniela, again didn't reply nor stop, she made her way back up to manon's exposed chest, that's only covered by her bra, and she started back kissing, mumbling against her soft brown skin, "you're so perfect" she trailed her free hand up manon's thigh, caressing her.

"f-fu-ck, y-yeah, she's in here" manon got out between choked moans, "can i come in and grab my phone?" sophia asked and daniela got up, throwing her own hoodie on to hide her already messy hair, grabbing the filipino woman's phone and bringing it to her.

daniela opened the door sightly, only enough space so she could snake her arm out and give her the phone, sophia looked at daniela's eyes and noticed the redness while also smelling the marijuana.

"did you two smoke in my room?? oh my god" sophia asked while looking at daniela, "only a little! don't worry, we got the windo open and we'll spray it so it can go away" and sophia nodded, "come down soon, we'll be at the movies, just text when you're ready."

"mhm, byebye now" daniela said, shutting and locking the door, she turned around and saw manon's was squeezing her thighs together, biting her lip while her beautiful eyes were looking at her, you could hear a low "please" come from the brunette.

daniela walked over to her, “we have an hour at most so i'm gonna play with you a bit" daniela said while she pulled manon's panties down, she kissed her inner thighs while slowly inching closer to her aching heat.

"need you so bad" manon mumbled, "what was that?" daniela asked, she heard her the first time, she just wanted her louder. "i-i.." manon could barely get out feelin daniela's finger sliding deeper inside of her.

"uh huh?" daniela looked her inside of her brown eyes, watching them grow with need. daniela curled her fingers, pushing them in and out at a slow pace, manon's hips bucked, which made daniela chuckle, "so needy, aren't you" manon just nodded, making daniela stop.

"you were asked a question baby" daniela kissed her clit, before gently sucking on it, "w-wait.. dani" manon said, but daniela continued, pushing her fingers deep inside the brunette, "fuck fuck fuck fuck" manon moaned out, dani only sped up, loving how manon sounded.

daniela continued this same process until manon came, the brunette's thghs claming shut around daniela's face, the blonde forced them back opened and continued eating manon out, making the older grab at her hair.

daniela sighed against manon's clit, making the older shiver, and daniela finally broke off. she finally payed attention to the erection of hers, but manon had already pushed her on the bed, getting down to her knees.

she fondled with he drawstring for a bit, before just reaching her hands in and pulling daniela's dick from her boxers, watching the way her eyes filled with excitement, all the lust very evident.

she slowly stroked th blonde's cock, she glided her hand along the full length, stopping at her tip each time to caress it. soon she leaned down, staring slow, she took her tip in her mouth, with slow licks and small sucks soon turned to her taking more of her cock in her mouth, fully swallowing around dani.

she only broke off for some air, an adorable line of spit connected daniela's pink tip to her lips. she was only off for a few seconds, before trying to deep throat her again, the brunette drooling all over her cock, she held her head down, allowing her groans to finally spill out.

she let daniela use her throat, and while she thrusted into manon's mouth she could feel her tongue sliding along her entire length. she started to moan around it, bringing much more vibrations and pushing dani closer to her orgasm.

she sped her hips up, the girl held her mouth open, allowing daniela to have free access. soon she came down her throat, groans and small whimpers spilling from her.

daniela pulled out, wiping the access cum that dripped down her lips. she picked manon up, and put her back under, this time slowly slipping herself inside of the brunette.

she started off slow, easing her cock inside of her cunt, the girl felt like she was being torn in half. "tell me when to stop" the blonde gritted out, it was hard to penetrate the girl without the fear of hurting her by accident.

soon she tapped her, saying it was too much so she stopped, she was only an inch from being completely inside of the girl. she lifted her thighs, the bulge of her dick being seen through the older’s abdomen.

she couldn't help but find it adorable, and soon she began to thrust slowly, dragging her cock out of her just to slowly push it back in, this rhythm drove the girl insane, she wanted more but fuck she was so full. she was stretching her out so well but she was also able to reach her cervix, the girl completely lost it.

her once low moans turned louder, they filled the room, the lewd words that would spill from her throat all bounced off the four walls. daniela soon grew tired of this, slow ass pace.

so she forced manon’s thighs open again, and she fucked into the girl at an insanely fast pace. she held her hips as she pistoned into her, her walls clenched around her m way tighter than she'd expected, her orgasm catching up to her faster than she thought too. manon would bucked her hips each time daniela’s hips would meet hers.

soon her thrusts became sloppier, her moans picked up, while daniela’s did also, soon they came together. she continued to slowly thrust inside of the older, dragging the orgasm out much more, her load painting the girl's womb white with her seed, and she soon pulled out, her load leaking down onto the bed sheets.

daniela stood up, going to get something to clean manon up, but once her hair touched her back she could feel a sting, checking in the mirror and seeing that manon had scratched her back, it wasn't like she cared, she found it cute.

soon she returned with the warm towel and cleaned manon up and kissed her, she gently slipped manon back into her clothes and held her hand while they walked downstair only to see lara and sophia standing their with their mouths wide open.

"in my ROOM????" sophia yelled at them and went off on them about how they could've picked ANY other vacant room in her house but they chose her room, lara didn't even know how to react, just there frozen.

[emeraldotter]

2024 art summary! Some detailed thoughts and considerations on another year of drawing every day under the cut.

I feel like I had some big improvements with backgrounds and color choices. I like painting backgrounds; they're probably my favorite things to paint. I pushed myself on figure drawing more, too, but framing and posing has never come naturally to me. I made the plunge into drawing predominantly on single layer and just treating most digital paintings like I'm using acrylics. I think it's led to some more fluidity in my art, though it's definitely had its associated growing pains. It's so hard not to make things look muddy, but that's a problem I've always had with acrylics as well.

I admit, I'm very embarrassed by what I have to show this year and a lot that has to do with the subjects I painted. I'm trying very hard to push back against that negativity, though. Deku's a comforting character to me, so drawing him always makes me feel better. I should allow that sort of outlet for myself, I think. I feel better for it, anyways. Plus, the MHA manga had such talented people illustrating for it and its art evolution really inspired me—there's so much expressiveness there, and I love hands! MHA is the hand manga, haha.

I've also noticed that I get really nervous that people will think my art is bad if I post it online, so I've been interrogating that. I've definitely posted more duds than good stuff over the years, but I'm not a natural or talented artist. I'm just a guy who draws! And that's okay, I think. Not every athlete is meant for the world championships. But then I think: Do I think this way when I see other people's art? And the answer is no. I'm always happy to see art. I'm always happy to see people making art. I'm much more focused on the subject of the art, on how it makes me feel, than if it's "good enough." What does that even mean? Obviously, there are objective skill sets associated with drawing and painting, but it's a sliding scale of competency. I don't think it's as black and white as "good" and "bad" so much as "well developed" and "less developed." And art on both ends of that spectrum have spoken to me enormously over the years.

It's hard, sometimes, to make art that feels fulfilling or pushes you when you have a running daily queue. I've been doing this for over a decade. Kind of crazy, right? Whenever I draw something, I think, "Can I post this? Is this postable?" I've tried to move away from that. Making a lot of hours-long paintings that I don't show anybody has helped that, maybe. All the same, every time I'm working on a painting that isn't a commission or for this blog, I can't help but think, "You're using up your body's stamina and your limited time to make something that can't be used. You're going to have to set aside even more time to work on usable art." I've done a lot to push aside that guilt. If I can't paint for myself, then painting serves nothing for me. I already work a pretty demanding job; I cannot have everything I do turn into survival. Hobbies are so important.

Another thing that happened is that I got really into learning how to seriously make stickers, this year! I bought a printer on sale and everything. I hand-cut each sticker and apply a protective layer over it, usually with a holographic effect. Who doesn't love holographic stickers?

[undead-moth]

#THANK YOU#I HAVE BEEN SAYING THAT SINCE I FUCKING READ IT#THERE ARE GRAMMATICAL ERRORS A FUCKING FIFTH GRADER WOULD CATCH#GOD FFS#ESPECIALLY FOR SOMEONE WHOSE WELL READ LIKE MANGIONE#his ass did NOT write that

Re: your tags,

I've been dying to really break this down:

“To the Feds (1) (6), I'll keep this short, because I do respect what you do for our country. To save you a lengthy investigation, I state plainly (3) that I wasn't (6, From this point on, they cease to use contractions) working with anyone. This was fairly (3) trivial (4): some elementary social engineering, basic CAD, a lot of patience. The spiral notebook, if present (2), has some straggling (2) notes and To Do lists that illuminate (2) the gist of it (1). My tech is pretty locked down (1)(3) because I work in engineering so probably not much info there (1). I do apologize (2) for any strife of traumas (4)(6) but it had to be done. Frankly (3), these parasites simply had it coming (1)(3). A reminder: the US has the #1 most expensive healthcare system in the world, yet we rank roughly #42 in life expectancy. United is the [indecipherable] largest company in the US by market cap, behind only Apple, Google, Walmart. It has grown and grown, but as (5) our life expectancy? No the reality is, these [indecipherable] have simply (3) gotten too powerful, and they continue to abuse our country for immense profit because the American public has allwed (5) them to get away with it. Obviously (3) the problem is more complex, but I do not have space (1), and frankly (3) I do not pretend to be the most qualified person to lay out (1) the full argument. But many have illuminated (2) the corruption and greed (e.g.:(6) Rosenthal, Moore), decades ago and the problems simply (3) remain. It is not an issue of awareness at this point, but clearly (3) power games at play (1). Evidently (3) I am the first to face it with such brutal honesty.”

(While there are many strange components of this manifesto that are reasonable to question, such as what I listed in the op, for this I'm going to focus exclusively on the writing and not the content.)

1 and 2. The blending of conversational language with uncommon elevated, formal or academic language (some of which is usually reserved for creative writing).

Throughout the manifesto, the writer blends conversational language with extremely uncommon formal or elevated language. If the manifesto had been exclusively conversational, I would have thought this was a strange choice, but it wouldn't have raised any red flags. If it had all been written in academic language - which is scarce in this - I would have thought that made sense given Luigi has a master's degree, and in a STEM field no less. It would be a strange choice for a manifesto, but only because people who write manifestos aren't typically engineers, and it seems possible to me that a manifesto written by an academic might sound more academic than the typical manifesto. If the entire piece had been written in elevated and formal language, I would have thought that was bizarre - but its consistency would have simply made me come to the conclusion that this must just be how Luigi is.

But it's not consistently any of these styles of writing. Granted, academics in real life might blend conversational and elevated or academic language together due to the fact that both kinds of language are understandable and relevant to them - but writing in that style, on the other hand, is unusual. By the time you're a master's student you've become accustomed to modifying your writing accordingly. You keep your homework or scholarly writing academic, your college and job applications formal, and your tweets conversational. The only exception would be if it was for some reason unavoidable, or if you knew whoever was going to read that writing would be familiar with and okay with every style.

Whoever wrote this didn't choose to write this way for this reason. This strange blend of overly formal language like "I do apologize" (what century are we in?) and extremely conversational language like "pretty locked down" and "to lay out" comes off as someone who is trying really hard to sound educated but is either incapable of elevating all of their writing in a typical way or doesn't have the ability to recognize conversational language. Especially when extremely uncommon words like "illuminate" (an elevated word that may give the impression of intelligence or education, but when used figuratively like this would only ever be used in creative writing. The same is true with "straggling.") are used twice in one manifesto that's less than a page long, right beside extremely recent colloquial phrases like, "I do not have the space," it suggests the writer is trying to write outside of their league. In fact, "illuminate" is so out of place here and would be so out of place even in academic writing, that my immediate assumption was that whoever wrote this was using thesaurus.com or Grammarly to find replacements for words the writer didn't think were elevated enough.

Even though the writer is making efforts to sound educated, it’s obvious this isn't a person who has ever combed through their paper for unacademic writing. This isn't a person who has ever had to code-switch for their profession. This isn't a person who is used to using elevated, formal or academic language. This is a person who thinks the way beginner writers in academia do - they often think to add elevated elements to the writing, but it doesn't even occur to them to remove unelevated elements from the writing - the latter of which is arguably more important in academic, professional or otherwise formal writing.

3. Extraneous Adverbs

This is one of the most well-known tell-tale signs of a writer who is new to academic, professional or formal writing. Rookie writers use these extraneous adverbs as a crutch. Though they add virtually nothing to the content of the writing, they create the allusion of elevated language. Every single extraneous adverb in blue above means essentially the same thing (which, within the context each is used, is: nothing, lol), and if removed, wouldn't change the meaning of the content. The use of the word "pretty" is colloquial - I could possibly see someone choosing to purposefully use "pretty" in this way regardless of the nature of the writing (academic, professional, creative, etc.). "Obviously" and "Evidently" are also more justifiable. They come closer to adding meaning that wouldn't otherwise be present. "Obviously" comes with such emphasis I can see it being appropriate to use in a manifesto. If only these extraneous adverbs had been included, I probably wouldn't have thought anything of it.

But when they're included right beside "plainly," "fairly," "simply," "frankly," and "clearly" - all of which mean essentially the same thing, all of which add nothing - they once again give the impression of someone trying to sound educated, much the way Freshman students in their first ever English comp. course do. It's especially egregious to me that "frankly" and "simply" were each used twice, in a manifesto less than a page long. Luigi attended the University of Pennsylvania - that is an Ivy League school. I find it extremely hard to believe that Luigi's professors would not have beaten this habit out of him well before he ever attended grad school. Of course, this isn't an academic paper. If Luigi had written this, he could have chosen not to follow that writing expectation - but if it was something you were already accustomed to avoiding, why would you suddenly decide to add it again?

4. Nonsensical Use of a Word

(To me, these errors are the greatest indicator that this couldn't have possibly been written by someone with a master's degree.)

It appears whoever wrote this thought the word "trivial" meant something other than what it means. I think the word the writer was looking for was "brief." The obvious, much more common and equally appropriate word would be "short." "Trivial" does not make sense. That is not how that word is used. It's not just a strange use or uncommon use of the word - it is an inappropriate use of the word. When I read it, I again got the impression the writer was possibly using thesaurus.com or Grammarly and one of the two suggested "trivial" could replace the word "short." Both thesauraus.com and Grammarly lead writers astray in this way - they find words that are adjacent in meaning but aren't actually appropriate substitutes for one another. It seems plausible to me that "trivial," meaning "simple," is a word in close enough proximity to "short" (things that are short are often simple) that thesaurus.com or Grammarly recommended it as a replacement and the writer was unable to recognize it wasn’t a good recommendation. Or it could also be that the writer closely associates "trivial," meaning "simple," with shortness, and didn't realize that they aren't actually related. Either way, it's a nonsensical use of the word "trivial."

EDIT: I misread the sentence that used “trivial” and based my analysis on my misreading. The use of “trivial” does actually make sense.

The other example of a nonsensical use of a word is "strife." The word "strife" here is being used like a container for another noun, which would require it be followed by the word "of." There are many words in English that can be used in this way - "The book of Mormon," "The school of rock," "The house of cards," etc. When a noun is used in this way and followed by "of" it is indicating that whatever noun follows the "of" is something being contained within the initial noun. The word "strife" is not a noun that can be used in this way. Once again, it is not just a strange or uncommon use of the word - it is an inappropriate use of the word. In the former example ("Trivial") the implication is that the writer doesn't know what that word means, but in this example, the implication is not that they don't know what the word means, but that they don't understand how nouns can and can't be used grammatically in the English language. I want to be clear that I'm not knit-picking a dialect here. This isn't like trying to tell someone that their AAVE is "improper" because it has different grammatical constructions than "standard" English. I'm also not just knit-picking unusual linguistic expression. This isn't like Yoda talk in which someone is speaking in a weird but nevertheless coherent way. This isn't inappropriate because it's "improper" according to "standard" English language rules - it's inappropriate because it has the potential to impede meaning, which defeats the very purpose of writing. What the fuck are you saying? I know it is one small segment of the manifesto, but it is quite literally nonsense.

When I see nonsensical usage like this, and in a manifesto where obvious efforts to sound educated and intellectual were made, I can only assume that the highest level of the writer's education is high school. There is no way someone with a master's degree wrote this. Someone with a master's degree likely wouldn't make these this mistakes, especially not the second one, which is so bizarre because it's not an example of something missing or mixed-up, which are the types of errors I would expect to happen from time to time even for a grad student - but an example of something being added. It can't be explained by the writer forgetting to include something or getting something confused with something else - it can only be explained by a genuine incomprehension of the grammar.

5. Typo (Except it's not because the manifesto was handwritten???)

This is a manifesto. It's not only the writer's message to the world, but it's likely the last message they'll ever get to send the world, and they would know this. This is the writer's one shot, right? Given how perfect the literal shots were in this assassination - why wouldn't a manifesto written by an educated engineer be the same? Or at least much closer to perfect than this? This manifesto is less than a page and there are two "typos". I can't stress enough how impressively bad that is. Whoever wrote this didn't spare this manifesto a second glance. Didn't even skim over it after writing it and it is less than a page. For reference, in academic writing, you would probably be expected to have two typos total in ten or more pages. Two typos in less than a page is beyond egregious.

It is also just fucking weird that something that was supposedly handwritten has two mistakes in it that are basically only ever typos? When typing, it's common to mistype "has" as "as" or miss a letter in a word like "allowed." But errors of this particular nature aren't common in handwritten writing? In fact, they're extremely rare? What...? What happened there?

6. Missing and/or Improper Punctuation or Grammar Errors (that I personally feel don't have any plausible deniability - there are technically many improper uses of punctuation and grammatical errors in this, but they are either so commonly used as to not be worth pointing out or generally accepted as correct even though they technically aren't. I'm not focusing on those because it seems plausible to me even a grad student could make those errors accidentally or even with purpose.)

Capitalizing "Feds" is probably excusable. I unthinkingly capitalize significant, but not technically proper nouns all the time. But it's only done to "Feds," and so I almost wonder if the writer legitimately believed they needed to capitalize it.

Choosing to use the contractions "I'll" and "wasn't" before ceasing their use for the rest of the manifesto is not technically "improper" but it's fucking weird. Generally, a writer, especially an experienced academic or professional writer, would be consistent except in situations when a contraction isn't appropriate to use, or when only a contraction is appropriate to use (such as in a sentence that ends with "it is." You would never end a sentence with "it's."). There are also places in this manifesto where it was very strange not to use a contraction because the words being used in that context are generally almost always made into a contraction. "It is not an issue of -" in particular, really stands out to me. What I find telling about this is that writers new to academic writing often make the incorrect assumption that it's unacademic to use contractions. Students will sometimes avoid using contractions in an effort to make their writing - once again - sound more elevated than it actually is. This thinking bleeds into other contexts too - newbie poets sometimes refuse to use contractions, for example. If Luigi had actually written this, I would expect him to have used contractions throughout, because someone with a master's would have long ago learned that there isn't ever any reason to avoid contractions in virtually any kind of writing outside of for stylistic reasons. If the entire manifesto had avoided contractions altogether, I may have considered that for whatever reason, Luigi just doesn't like using contractions. But whoever wrote this fucked up when they kept "I'll" and "wasn't" in the first two sentences and avoided contractions from then on. Even if the contractions were interspersed, I would have considered that it might be as simple as personal style or writing on autopilot. But whoever wrote this tried and probably thought they eliminated all of the contractions, and probably did so under the incorrect assumption that avoiding contractions would make their writing sound more elevated, and therefore more educated, but because they personally only have a high school diploma at best, they had no way of knowing they were getting it backwards.

The word "trauma" is pluralized in this manifesto. The word "trauma" is ordinarily an uncountable noun, as in, no matter how much "trauma" there is, it is all still just "trauma." However, it's similar to "water" and "fish" in that there are specific instances in which the uncountable noun becomes countable. Generally, no matter how much water you have, it is water - unless you are talking about different regions of water, then it would be appropriate to say "waters." Likewise, no matter how many fish you have, they are all still fish - until you're discussing multiple distinct species of fish, then it's appropriate to say "fishes." "Trauma" is a word that also operates like this. So it technically can be pluralized - but the thing is, it's a word that would likely only ever be pluralized in academic writing or scholarly literature. The word "traumas" is specialized, field-specific, and few people outside of people actually studying or researching trauma would have reason to say "traumas." Regardless, this is not an instance in which "traumas" is appropriate to say, and once again, this is a mistake that is not the result of missing something or confusing something - it was something that was added. This demonstrates a genuine incomprehension. In this case, I'm guessing it was pluralized not because whoever wrote this usually pluralizes trauma, but because in this sentence, "trauma" is the thing being contained (inappropriately, nonsensically) within "strife" and while the person writing this doesn't comprehend this grammar fully, they comprehend it enough to know that the noun being contained is often plural, and they kind of just instinctually added it. It's not uncommon for inexperienced writers who are also fluent English speakers to have a familiarity with some English grammar, but due to not being taught it in the overt, purposeful way English learners are taught it, nevertheless aren't really sure how or why or when to apply that English grammar. The result of this is that they sometimes apply that English grammar needlessly based on a gut feeling, not genuine understanding of the need for its use.

Lastly - and this is what stood out to me the most after the nonsensical use of "strife" - whoever wrote this has placed a colon after "e.g." The abbreviation "e.g." is used frequently in academic writing of all kinds, including STEM. Depending on the context, it is appropriate to precede or follow or both precede and follow "e.g." with a comma, but never a colon. A master's student would know this. An engineer would know this. Anyone who has ever had to do any academic writing or professional research would know this. I think whoever wrote this thought "e.g." is followed by a comma - because whoever wrote this is not someone who has ever had to type and turn in something with "e.g." written in it.

Whoever wrote this manifesto was, over and over, making every effort to elevate their writing and make themselves sound educated and intelligent - all while making tell-tale mistakes that expose them as someone who maybe has a high school diploma. Because they aren't an experienced writer, they didn't have any way of recognizing these mistakes, much less realizing how thoroughly these mistakes expose their inexperience. Even if they had sat down and made thorough revisions, they would have only been able to make the writing marginally better, because they would not have the literacy necessary to notice the weaknesses in their writing. I know a manifesto is not academic in nature. I'm aware that somebody with the writing skills of an educated engineer could choose not to elevate their manifesto to something more academic, professional, or formal. My argument here isn't "This doesn't resemble an academic paper so there's no way an academic wrote it." My argument is that even when an academic chooses to write something that isn't academic in nature, this is not what it would sound like. If Luigi had written this with the intention of being conversational, this is not what it would sound like. This manifesto makes mistakes that aren't appropriate in any kind of writing, and includes stylistic elements that are extremely common, textbook signs that the person who wrote it was trying to make their writing sound more elevated than it is, and by extension, make themselves sound more educated than they are. They were trying to make this manifesto academic, or at least elevated, knowing Luigi has a master's degree and that if Luigi wrote a manifesto it would sound like it was written by someone with a master's degree - but the writer failed because they definitely don't have a master's degree. There is zero doubt in my mind that a cop wrote this.

The one piece of evidence I’m 100% sure was planted is that manifesto. Like even setting aside that manifestos are generally released before the crime, generally addressing the people they’re meant to threaten or enlighten and not cops, and generally you know, widely distributed online and not just carried around physically in case of an arrest that we have reason to believe was unwanted and unsuccessfully but intentionally avoided - there is just no fucking way you’re going to convince me that someone with a master’s degree wrote that lmao. Whoever wrote that manifesto would struggle to pass an undergraduate English gen. ed. course.

[cripplecharacters]

Can people with Ehlers-Danlos syndrome or joint hypermobility do martial arts?

Hey!

As for the EDS part, it will depend on the specific type. There's 13 of them, and a lot of them will have hypermobility as a symptom, but many will also have unrelated symptoms that will make someone unable (or less able) to do that kind of activity. EDS=/=hEDS.

To literally go type by type;

aEDS can come with both low muscle tone and motor delay.

BCS actually only has hypermobility as a potential factor since people who are blind and/or deaf can very much do martial arts.

cvEDS comes with cardiac problems; I won't pretend like a know a whole lot about this one (because I don't), but this generally means fatigue, shortness of breath, etc., which will disqualify a lot of people from martial arts.

cEDS doesn't have any of the issues mentioned above, instead even minor traumas can result in atrophic scarring here. If they did martial arts they would have a lot of that I assume.

clEDS, hEDS, pEDS just have the joint hypermobility and/or instability (as far as the relevant symptoms go) to my understanding.

dEDS mostly has the extreme skin fragility, but also heavily increased risk of hemorrhages, shorter limbs (which you can do martial arts with, but you're definitely at a disadvantage), potential motor delay, etc.

kEDS is similar to aEDS in that it comes with both motor delay and low muscle tone, but it also has increased risk of arterial tears and aneurysyms which is almost definitely a "no" for contact sports.

mcEDS comes with contractures (as the c in the name implies), muscle weakness (as the m in the name implies), motor delay (not all people with mcEDS will be able to walk independently for example), etc.

mEDS has the m for myopathy, but it can also cause contractures, muscle atrophy, motor delay, joint instability, etc.

spEDS can come with so many things - low muscle tone, contractures, limited arm rotation, motor delay, bones that fracture more easily, etc.

vEDS is probably the one least likely to allow a person to do martial arts since the aneurysm/rupture/dissection risk would be through the roof. That can kill someone very, very fast. There are more symptoms of course, but this alone probably makes the answer a "no".

There are also other conditions that come with hypermobility that aren't anywhere on the EDS spectrum and there it will be on a case-by-case basis as well. People with Marfan syndrome will have cardiovascular problems and might be unable to do that kind of stuff, while someone with a different disorder might have no issues at all.

Obviously there is also the topic of chronic pain that a lot of people with hypermobility-associated conditions have (not so much hypermobility alone). For some people the amount of pain they're in will make them unable to do martial arts, for some it won't be an issue. It's very personal. The same goes for fatigue; it can present very widely between people with the same disorder.

It does also depend on where the person's hypermobility is. I can't really imagine that someone with craniocervical instability would do wrestling (I could be wrong, of course) while someone who's "only" dislocating their digits could probably do every martial art that's out there since despite being painful it probably won't kill them. Not everyone has hypermobility that affects literally every joint in their body.

Not every person with hypermobility will also be dislocating their joints (or only specific ones, for example), but the effects of dislocations also depends on the person. Some people just fix it themselves on the go and move on like it's no big deal, others need professional medical help. Here it also kinda matters what kind of martial art you mean - in regulated fights, if someone does dislocate something, the fight stops until the problem is fixed. In street fights, it obviously doesn't.

So I guess the answer is: maybe? IDK? It depends on what your character actually has. If they only have hypermobility (that's not in the neck), they probably can do whatever - and if they have vEDS they probably shouldn't.

Hope this helps,

mod Sasza

[frankenfran]

PLEASE talk as much as you want about final fantasy. Since I already have 3 FF questions, I'll let you choose whatever you want to talk about most

1. I wanna hear what you don't like about XV and XVI (I only know the story of XVI and yeah it has. issues)

2. What do you think about the older 2D FFs?

3. I know there's an insane amount of spinoffs and side stories, so of them all, what do you think is a must-play for someone like me who wants to get more into the series? (I've only played most of tactics, and FF I Advance of all things)

oh goodness well, this probably won't be popular but since you asked... (under a read more because it's fucking long)

1.) as reductively as possible: too much of a focus on men. deeply misogynistic games. it feels like they're a response to the misogynistic backlash to ffxiii. yes ffxiii had plenty of problems but given the culture at the time (which obviously hasn't gotten much better) it kinda felt like a lot of people rejected it as soon as they saw a woman as the protag. the craziest part is she's basically just cloud post transition but mysteriously people think all those traits on a woman are irritating or cringe.

anyway, this is obviously just my own personal feeling but it feels like they went the opposite direction and decided there should be less women going forward. ffxiv is infamous for killing every important female character and ffxv is just a yaoi road trip with minimal female involvement. you'd certainly think there were no women in the game based on the fan art and, unsurprisingly, people loved that. i mean consider the reaction to ffx-2 vs. ffxv. they're both obviously very different games in a lot of ways but one of them is about boys going on an adventure together and the other is about girls doing the same. one of them is considered embarrassing and got tons of backlash from fans contemporarily for being too girly and the other was a huge hit with fans and loved even with its flaws. it's worth noting ffxv was also originally a ffxiii spinoff that became it's own thing so. that's also information.

ffxvi is even more egregious in some ways but ill admit a lot of those are mostly personal. it's fucking ugly and dull and i would not know it's a final fantasy game if it weren't for the ill fitting chocobos in some trailers. i know it's ironic for me to say that considering i praised ffix for looking unlike any other ff game but they went in the wrong direction. it's clearly inspired by prestige western fantasy slop like GoT and the witcher and unfortunately those are the exact things i do not want in fantasy. some people like that and that's fine but it's clearly not for me.

anyway, iirc the writers from ffxiv worked on this and from what ive seen it shows in the worst ways. these are the writers who couldn't introduce a woman without killing her off so already off to a bad start but. it's punching above its weight class. it's trying so hard to be a epic grizzly dark fantasy but it just falls so flat. they say fuck all the time in the same way that one dmc game everyone hated did. im sure there's some amount of nuance that gets lost in translation but the only woman in the amount of the game i saw was, quite literally, an evil screeching harpy manipulator. which is not like, something im against obviously as a lover of women but for that to be the only woman in the first like. 10+ hours of the game? come the fuck on. maybe it gets better i honestly don't know. and i don't think i ever will because what i saw of that game was so immensely disappointing that im not sure ill ever bother.

i have plenty more i could say about both games but ive said soooo much already and honestly i can't imagine the misogyny website would particularly enjoy even more of my "misandry" lmfao. in short:

2.) i really enjoy the older 2D final fantasies but ive only really played a chunk of ffvi and the original ff. some day ill definitely give them a go! i feel like the ff fan equivalent of a zoomer for loving almost everything from ffvi onwards and not having much to say about the older ones but. the biggest barrier for me is the same one i have with the older dragon quests. they're not particularly hard or anything but they expect you to grind. a whole lot. if i was a kid and my only game was ffiii id be on that grind but it's a bit harder as an adult who can like. just do anything else. i even like grinding and getting into that flow state but i haven't been as much in the mood for it these days, or if i have it's been for different games. ill definitely get around to them eventually though. young immortal mindset as ive said before. watching my gf try and play through them did sort of make me want to give it a spin even with her furping.

3.) honestly you're already off to a good start! tactics is well beloved for a reason and it's probably the most recommended spinoff. id also highly recommend tactics advance. it's not as like, dark and serious as tactics but the style and gameplay and story are all executed nearly flawlessly. it's a favourite of our beloved princess nettlebloom and that's reason enough! definitely finish tactics first though. hmm... if you play ffxii and also enjoyed tactics advance then give FFXII: revenant wings a try! it's a weird RTS type game but it's in the style of tactics advance and very cute. definitely not for everyone though.

it's really far from essential but if you can somehow manage to organise enough people for it i highly recommend giving crystal chronicles a try. it's really fun with other people and it's close to ffix stylistically so im a big fan. maybe try dissidia if you want a silly fighting game? kebs seemed to enjoy stranger of paradise quite a bit and it seems like mindless action game fun so maybe give that a look if it interests you. honestly the spin-offs cover such a wide range of genre and quality that it's almost hard to have cohesive opinions on them lol. but i hope that helps in any way!

thank you for asking though and sorry for the wall of text! i genuinely suck at being concise and getting my points across but hopefully you could decode some of this madness lol

[aishangotome]

Azel Radwan: Dramatic Ending Ch. 24

Dramatic Ending Ch. 23 Letter

Thank you @passthechloroform for providing the video for this chapter!

♡———♡

With the end approaching, if I remained in Tanzanite, I would only hold Azel back.

I had braced myself for the bitterness, swallowed the pain, and initiated the farewell, yet Azel continued to grasp my hand without any intention of letting go.

Emma: …Is there something else you want to say?

Azel: ………… No.

Azel: .....

Azel: Yes, there is something I want to say.

His voice was firm, devoid of hesitation, as if he had resolved his worries and conflicts.

Azel: You are a kind-hearted person. Aren’t you worried about the 10,000 believers the apostle mentioned earlier?

(I can’t believe he brought that up.)

Emma: I am worried, but seeing how Prince Azel is acting, I thought maybe you had already taken measures.

Azel: Why?

Emma: Because you dislike the apostle, right?

Emma: You’re not generous enough to let someone you dislike have their way.

Emma: Either the matter has already been settled, or you’re going to settle it now…

Emma: Either way, I believe the helping hand of God will reach out.

(Before, Azel gave the maids who gave me the aphrodisiac nightmares.)

(While you have a compassionate side, you’re merciless to those you recognize as enemies.)

Azel: …It’s rather irritating when you're spot on.

Emma: I’d like you to praise my understanding of you, Prince Azel.

Azel: Would you please not get carried away?

Frowning, Azel tightened his grip on my hand.

Each time his strong will to "not let go" was conveyed, my heartbeat quickened excitedly.

Azel: There’s something I’d like you to help me with.

Azel: You, with your kind heart, can’t leave people in crisis alone, can you?

Azel: If you’re so desperate to save those 10,000 people, you’re welcome to come with me.

Emma: …I thought Prince Azel wanted to get us out of the country.

(Even though you were blocking our attempts to meet.)

Azel: I changed my mind, that’s all.

Azel turned away.

Azel: You seem to think you have value as a hostage, but you don’t.

Azel: But if we part ways like this, it’ll look like I’m worried about you being taken hostage, won’t it?

Azel: If I’m going to be misunderstood like that, I’d rather have your help, even if it’s annoying.

Azel: In the first place, I only kicked you out of the temple. It was Enis who urged you to return home.

Azel: Don’t get that wrong.

Emma: …So, in other words…

Emma: …You’re saying, “Don’t misunderstand, you idiot”?

Azel: Yes, that’s right. You’re an idiot––

Akatsuki: Oh?

Azel: …No, that’s not right.

(I actually understand.)

(…You probably just want to spend a little more time together.)

When Azel speaks rapidly, it’s when he wants to hide his true feelings, and when that happens, his eyes always fail to meet mine.

(If only the apostle’s problem is solved, I can still stay in Tanzanite.)

(I might be able to see Azel's wish through to the end.)

Squeezing his hand back, sadness outweighed joy, and pain surpassed happiness at his offer.

Emma: I want to stay with you too.

Azel: It’s not “too.”

Emma: Oh, come on. I haven’t spent time with Prince Azel for nothing.

Emma: I’ve become better at reading your thoughts compared to before.

Azel: .....

(But that’s why my heart aches so much…)

If we were going to spend time together anyway, I wanted to keep smiling until the end.

Emma: So the time has finally come to show off the swordsmanship the princes of Rhodolite taught me. I’ll do my best.

Azel: It hasn’t. That kind of muscle-brained solution isn’t my forte.

Emma: …Owner, is that alright?

The Owner, who had been silently watching us, quietly exhaled and nodded.

Akatsuki: It’s been a while since I’ve cut someone down.

Azel: No, I mean, were you even listening to me?

(Surely, the longer we spend together, the harder it will be to say goodbye in the end.)

(I know, but… I want to spend time without regrets.)

(Especially since Azel himself wished for it.)

Azel: Listen, you two. Resolving things with violence is what third-rate people do.

Emma: Then how are you going to save them?

Azel: That’s obvious.

His mystical eyes narrowed slightly, and a compassionate smile blended with the moonlight.

Azel: Allow me to show you what a nightmare shown by God looks like.

-

The place Azel headed to, avoiding the public eye, was the castle.

Emma: …This is strange.

Azel: It’s quiet, isn’t it?

(When the Owner and I left the castle, it should have been in chaos.)

There was no one around, and the eerily silent corridor was different from the scenery I knew.

Emma: Did Prince Azel clear everyone out?

Azel: No way. They deliberately moved aside so I could walk easily.

I knew who “they” were without having to ask.

(Azel said he had already taken measures, but this looks like he’s walking into a trap.)

(The apostle must have anticipated that you wouldn’t abandon the people… Perhaps it’s a battle of who can outsmart the other.)

God leisurely proceeded to the back of the castle and stood before a lavish room.

Without him doing anything, the door opened from the inside––

Woman: Oh, the Living God… It’s the Living God!

Man: You really came, Living God!

(This is…)

The sacred throne room was overflowing with people, so much so that it was suffocating.

Cheers erupted at Azel's appearance, the air and my eardrums vibrating violently.

(These must be the believers the apostle was talking about.)

The eerie silence was swallowed by the enthusiastic clamor, and Azel was instantly surrounded by people.

(…I-I can’t even move forward properly.)

Azel: Emma, don’t forget that the moment you leave my side, you’ll become prey to the crowd.

Emma: Then I’ll take your arm without hesitation!

As I clung to his arm so as not to be separated, the door closed behind us.

(Huh? What’s this smell?)

(…A sweet smell like incense…)

*flashback*

Clavis: Do you know what this is?

Silvio: Incense, right?

Clavis: Yes. This incense itself isn’t harmful, but it has a drug applied to its surface.

Clavis: When burned in an incense burner, it causes a mild state of intoxication.

*flashback over*

Emma: …Prince Azel!

Azel: Yes, it’s best not to inhale too much.

Azel: It’s not harmful, but if you’re not careful, your thinking will become paralyzed like these people.

(Even though I expected it, to think that he urged people to die for God while they were unable to think properly…)

(The apostle’s actions are unforgivable.)

Azel continued forward, unfazed by the crowd.

When he reached a certain point, the people parted neatly to the left and right.

(...!)

A path was formed, and the sight that appeared beyond it unconditionally filled me with rage.

Azel: …This is a bit much, isn’t it, old man?

Seated on the throne, illuminated by the beautiful and divine moon, was His Majesty the King.

His limbs were bound with shackles, and his limp body was tied to the throne.

Blood flowed from his head, dripping onto the throne, and I could feel Azel trembling slightly through his arm.

Emma: …What have you done to His Majesty?

The person standing beside the throne smiled without a hint of remorse.

Apostle: Please rest assured. Enis is alive.

Apostle: I didn’t want to resort to such violence, but His Majesty was a little out of his mind.

Apostle: When the soldiers were restraining him, they had no choice but to hit him on the head.

(His Majesty said he would cause a commotion to buy me time to escape.)

(If the apostle's trap had already been set since then…)

I glared at the apostle as if to vent my frustration.

Azel: I’ve heard enough of your pathetic excuses. Old man, I went out of my way to fall into your trap. State your business.

Apostle: Living God, you have always been merciful.

Apostle: I still remember how you cried and begged for Enis and that exile, desperately trying to stop me.

(…Is he talking about that time when your brother was tortured in front of you?)

I sincerely loathed the way he deliberately brought up topics that reopened old wounds.

But Azel wasn’t as openly emotional as I was; he was calm.

–Calmly, his mystical eyes filled with a cruel color that sent chills down my spine.

Azel: Is that a childish threat that Enis will be punished if I defy you?

Apostle: No, who would allow such disrespect as to threaten the Living God?

(…How hypocritical.)

Behind the apostle were armed soldiers.

Depending on Azel's response, it wouldn’t be surprising if those weapons were turned on Enis.

Apostle: However, everyone here shares my aspirations.

Apostle: They have gathered to protect the Living God from any harm.

Apostle: And Enis feels the same way, I’m sure.

Apostle: Please allow us to protect you, so that you won’t bring about the end and face eternal death.

Azel: How will you protect me?

Apostle: We will wipe out the scoundrels who oppose God and keep you in a safe place until permanent peace returns to the city.

Apostle: To that place where death cannot reach.

Azel: ......

Apostle: However…

His clinging, gentle gaze fell upon me.

Apostle: I didn’t expect Emma to be here as well.

Apostle: If you’d like, could you accompany the Living God?

Apostle: The place I’m about to show you is safe, but it’s also dark and cold.

(Is he planning to imprison God?)

We were surrounded by people, with no escape.

And with Enis held hostage, we had no choice.

The imprisonment he proposed was insane.

Emma: …Is this what the apostle, who serves God, does?

My voice naturally lowered.

(To protect God? Don’t make me laugh.)

Emma: Apostle, you refuse to acknowledge Prince Azel true intentions.

Emma: The God of Tanzanite isn’t an idol; he’s alive and here.

Emma: And yet, isn’t this absurd?

Emma: God has granted people the blessing of a promised reality, and yet you repay him with hostility?

(It’s infuriating… In the first place, Azel should be your flesh and blood, even before he’s God.)

Apostle: It may be difficult for you to understand. But this is also for the sake of the Living God.

Emma: If you truly believe that, then first listen to the Living God’s voice!

Emma: You just take the blessings he gives you… God is not your convenient tool!

Azel: .....

Azel: It’s useless. No matter what you say to this old man, it’s useless.

Azel: You’ll only exhaust yourself one-sidedly. He doesn’t live in the same world as us.

Azel: Do you know why Tanzanite is called the Land of Illusions?

Azel: It’s also satire for those who blindly believe in God and are trapped in their own dreams.

(…It seems like Azel has given up from the start.)

(How much suffering did you have to endure to reach this state of mind?)

If this kind of unreasonable violence has continued since childhood, the current reality might be a nightmare for Azel.

(To think that death is the only way to be liberated…)

When I hugged his arm tightly, Azel chuckled softly.

Azel: You don’t have to get so angry.

Emma: …But I can’t forgive him.

Azel: Even though it’s none of your business?

Emma: Even though it’s none of my business… yes.

Azel: Then, please rage on my behalf.

Azel: I’ve grown tired of even getting angry at that old man.

Emma: …Why do you sound a little happy?

Azel: Are you blind? Someone who can find this situation happy and enjoyable is as abnormal as the apostle.

Azel turned away again.

(…I wonder if there was no one else to get angry like this.)

(Even though you’re someone who should be cherished more than anyone else…)

Azel: Old man, time is limited, so hurry up and lead the way.

Azel: I won’t run away.

-

Emma: ..........................This has to be a joke.

(Impossible.)

(It’s impossible not to get angry at this.)

Separated from the Owner, I was led by the apostle and a large group of believers to a stagnant underground space.

It seemed they intended to confine God in this place buried deep within the sand, where even moonlight couldn’t reach, and the fact that these people considered it a “good deed” as a matter of course gave me goosebumps.

Emma: In other countries, this is called a prison.

Azel: Oh, is that so? This is actually another room of mine.

Azel: I was often confined here as a child.

Azel: Not only when I ran away, but also when my divinations didn’t go well or when I made childish mistakes.

Azel: According to the old man, he confines me out of love.

Emma: .............

Azel: You can make such interesting faces.

Emma: …I had my suspicions ever since I heard your story, Prince Azel…

Emma: This is what the world calls abuse!

My voice echoed off the stone walls and spread throughout the surroundings.

Everyone here must have heard it, yet they showed no reaction whatsoever.

(This isn’t a matter of having different fundamental values.)

(It’s like faith has paralyzed their hearts.)

Apostle: Emma, it’s not like I enjoy doing this.

Apostle: …It truly pains me.

Emma: Someone who is truly pained wouldn’t be able to smile like that!

Emma: You say you understand the Living God’s suffering, and yet you’ve been… you’ve been smiling all along!

(My emotions are about to burst.)

I tried my best to calm down, but I couldn’t suppress my raging heart…

Azel hugged me from behind as I clenched my fists tightly.

Azel: That smile of his is a kind of provocation towards me.

Emma: Provocation…?

Azel: I think you’ve already noticed…

Azel: The one who believes in God the least in this country is none other than the apostle himself.

Information that should have been shocking entered my mind smoothly.

Azel: In the first place, the apostle finds me to be a nuisance.

Azel: In the era when the Living God was absent, the apostle could wield his authority as God’s representative.

Azel: If it weren’t for me, he could have become God.

Emma: …That’s a chilling story.

Azel: Yes, I think so too.

Azel: Because the real one was born, the old man had no choice but to become a servant of God…

Azel: He may still be yearning for the divine throne with lingering attachment. How pitiful.

At Azel's provocative words, the apostle’s mask-like smile distorted slightly.

Apostle: I have never once harbored such a rebellious thought.

Apostle: My loyalty to God is as you know, Living God.

Azel: Has that loyalty ever been shown to me?

Azel: No, right? You’ve never once listened to my voice.

Azel: Everything you say as God’s will is far from my true intentions.

Azel: Old man, you’re mistaken in thinking you’re “God.”

Azel: How foolish and disrespectful a misunderstanding that is… I don’t need to tell you, do I?

I noticed at some point that my breathing had become shallow.

As Azel's words grew heavier, the dimly lit prison cell transformed into a sacred place of judgment.

The people gathered here also seemed to be consumed by tension.

(Azel was supposed to be the one caught in the trap, and yet, the one now standing on the platform of judgment is…)

Azel: I am the true God. You are nothing more than an ordinary person.

Azel: And for an ordinary person to defy God is an unforgivable act.

Azel: Now, all of you ordinary people… aren’t you being a little too arrogant towards me?

The moment the cold smile of God dominated the room, the people simultaneously fell to their knees and lowered their heads so deeply that their foreheads rubbed against the ground.

Only one person – the apostle – remained standing.

The “misunderstanding” Azel spoke of was exposed in broad daylight.

Azel: Oh my, why do you defy God’s words?

Azel: You, who should be serving me and believing in me more than anyone else…

Azel, who had moved away from me, approached the apostle and placed a hand on his shoulder.

Though his strength was by no means forceful, the apostle involuntarily fell to his knees.

(…Azel could have dominated people like this all along, he just chose not to.)

*flashback*

Azel: I haven’t done anything like burning a strange incense burner and brainwashing you without your knowledge.

Azel: In the first place, people can be controlled much more easily without resorting to such underhanded tactics.

*flashback over*

(The apostle is no match for him.)

Azel: Apostle, let me ask you.

Azel: Who do the 10,000 believers you gathered worship?

Apostle: …Why, the Living God, of course.

Azel: Then, they won’t ignore my divine will. Correct?

Apostle: Yes…

Azel: You said earlier that everyone shares the same aspirations…

Azel: The wise believers must already understand my wishes.

Azel: ––That’s enough. Thank you all for your hard work.

God clapped his hands.

As if it were a cue, the people rose as if awakening from a dream.

(…Wh-What’s going on?)

I couldn’t believe that their fanaticism towards God was an illusion; they exited as if they had planned it beforehand.

The apostle’s smile vanished.

Apostle: …Why…?

Azel: Why? Because I am the God they worship.

Azel: Didn’t you think it was strange?

Azel: Why I would condone such a harmful gathering that brainwashes people.

(…Gathering…)

*flashback*

Azel: ––…Is it that gathering again?

Kumushu: Yes, invitations have already been widely distributed. Moreover, it’s close to the date. This is troubling.

Azel: Unfortunately, I’ll have to remain a bystander this time.

Azel: However, please contact Shinan. There will likely be a considerable number of victims.

*flashback over*

(If the story I heard back then was referring to the apostle’s gathering…)

(Azel knew about it all along and had taken some measures.)

(Shinan is a doctor, so maybe––)

Azel: The answer is simple – to show you a terrible nightmare.

It was the most compassionate and gentle divine smile I had ever seen.

Azel: It was quite a task to catch the participants every time and detoxify their minds.

Azel: To protect Tanzanite’s faith, you sent invitations mainly to “those who were beginning to awaken from faith.”

Azel: The fact that the majority of Tanzanite’s people blindly believe in God is largely due to your efforts.

Azel: Using incense to brainwash and turn people into fanatics is your old trick.

Azel: So, I imitated it.

Apostle: …Imitated?

Azel: Yes. I had a doctor remove the effects of the drug you physically gave them…

Azel: …And I conveyed my true divine will to them.

Azel: On top of that, I had them continue to act as fanatics.

Azel: To punish the misguided commoners.

(In other words…)

Emma: The apostle’s gathering was a dream shown by Prince Azel?

Azel: Of course, not all of them. There are some true believers who were beyond help.

Azel: However, the majority, yes.

Azel: The people the apostle mistakenly believed to be his followers were actually my followers, that’s all.

(…I thought it would be alright since it’s Azel…)

(I never imagined the main character of the nightmare would change so dramatically.)

From Azel to the apostle.

Having lost his smile, the apostle suddenly looked many years older.

Azel: I told you before, Emma.

Azel: I can show people sweet dreams, or I can show them nightmares.

(There’s no one in this country who can harm Azel.)

When he beckoned me closer, I was led to the exit.

Azel: Cool your head here for a while, old man.

Azel: The next time you see the moon…

Azel: …An eternal nightmare will have begun.

-

When we stepped out into the corridor, the people who were supposed to have left were there to greet Azel.

Their expressions were uniformly somber, and I could hear the sound of sobbing.

(…I see. The fact that they know Azel's divine will means…)

(The people here know that the end is a “promised reality.”)

Azel: Thank you all for your cooperation.

Azel: You are my pride, having overcome the illusion of the “eternal kingdom of God” that the apostle offers.

Man: Living God… But…

Azel: Don’t be so sad. Certainly, death may be a kind of end…

Azel: …But it is also the beginning for you to weave history with your own feet.

(...)

Azel: Let us say our final farewells tomorrow.

Azel: You are the seeds I have sown in the wilderness. So that one day, many hopes will sprout in this barren land…

Azel: Please live up to that expectation. This is my divine will for you.

No one could say anything.

People with tears streaming down their faces, people stifling sobs, people with expressions of anguish, people covering their faces with their hands…

It was a sight that showed at a glance how much the Living God had been loved and revered.

(Tomorrow…)

(…It’s time to say goodbye.)

.

.

.

Dramatic End Ch. 24 Premium Story

If you’d like to support my translations, feel free to buy me a coffee here! :)

[itsbenedict]

Games I Played In 2024 And Whether Or Not I Thought They Were Good (Part 3/4)

[1] - [2] - 3 - [4]

More of them! I've been doing these roughly in chronological order so I'm going to have more to say about these ones probably.

Another Crab's Treasure

Haaaaaah. Mixed feelings on this one!

The idea is that it's a Dark Souls game, only, like, vibrant and colorful and ocean-themed. You're a hermit crab who's trying to get his shell back! Cute!

First off: if you get this game, do not get it on the Switch. It is broken on Switch. Like, crashes regularly, freezes up on simple object interactions, drops frames all the time... it's rough. I've seen LPs of people playing the PC version, where it looks and plays much better, so that's probably what you want to do instead. I'm shocked Nintendo let them release it on their store in this state.

And... that kind of colors my perception of the gameplay, too, because it turns out soulslike difficulty gets way more frustrating if you're usually dying to the game freezing up during an enemy attack, or the camera getting stuck where you couldn't see the tell animation, or some other technical issue that completely wasn't your fault. I was fighting the game every step of the way.

That said, I can easily see the version of the game that works, and the gameplay's pretty fun! The various shell powers, the rolling mechanics, and the smart enemy design make it really smooth to play when it's actually running at full FPS. The environment design is also really good, and overall it's very well-executed.

Hated the story, though. What a mess. It's... totally thoughtless doomer nonsense, whose primary message is "capitalism bad!" while completely failing to depict any capitalism and instead having the government be bad. It's all half-formed ideas from people with no model of how the world actually works- just a vague sense of anger at powerlessness and disenfranchisement, directed at incoherent strawmen. The speech where the evil corrupt mayor tells you that laws exist to make it legal for him to kill anyone who defies him is especially eye-rolling- as is the strawman of techno-optimism who shows up as the surprise final boss. Just idiotic stuff.

None of its metaphors even work on its own terms- like the thing where pollution is a nebulous force of corruption caused by greed in the hearts of the crabs who hoard trash, except that the greedy trash hoarders live in the clean colorful heights and the poors with no trash live in the polluted undercity with too much trash. Wait, what? Yeah.

Fun though.

Loop Hero

This one was really cool! It feels like there's some potential it had that it didn't realize, but I enjoyed it as a smaller experience anyway.

The idea is... the world's been destroyed, and you can sort of bring it back by remembering. As you walk along this desolate looped path autobattling enemies in search of a boss, you can put down tiles that change it- biomes that spawn different types of monsters, buildings that give you buffs, and terrain with global effects. As you progress, you unlock more types of tiles, and learn synergies between different types of tiles that create new effects.

There's a lot of these, and they're really cool. Like, put down nine mountains or hills in a square, and bam, you get a tall peak that spawns harpies to fight. Or put forests next to a lightning tower, and get burning forests that, uh, I think lower everyone's HP or something? Place a light source next to a field, and it blooms with flowers, doubling its XP bonus or whatever it is those do.

My problem I think is just that there's not enough of them. Each type of tile has between two and four different kinds of interactions with other tiles, and you don't really get too many elaborate combos. Most types of tiles ignore each other. I kind of wish there'd been a little more depth to these systems, with more surprising interactions with older terrain types as you unlocked new ones. Let me run a river past a spider nest and get diving bell spiders, or put a storm tower next to a vampire castle to spawn frankensteins! The surprise tile synergies were the most exciting part, and there was definitely room to include more of them.

The story had some kind of cool things to say about, like, the weight of creation, passing judgment on the world, deciding what has the right to exist. I don't know that it really explores it fully, but there's something there!

Hades II

Yep, this thing's in early access! And no surprise: it's good as hell. I've wasted far too much time in it.

Gameplay-wise, it's going to be pretty familiar if you've played Hades, but there's a few major changes. The most impactful, I've found, is that you only get one dash. No upgrading it with the mirror or getting more from Hermes- you get one, and then can hold down the button to run slightly faster if you gotta move fast. This makes Melinoe play very differently from Zagreus, who favored getting in close and overwhelming foes with a flurry of blows before zipping back out with dashes when things get hairy. Melinoe needs to stay safe a lot more than Zag does, and relies on her ranged options to do so.

(There's also a few other tweaks- every attack comes with a charged version that costs mana from a mana bar, olympian calls are replaced with "moon blessings", and of course all the weapons are new and take some getting used to- but the dash is the biggest thing.)

The story, this time, is fascinatingly weird. It concerns a war between the gods and the titan Chronos, and... it's not entirely clear if you're on the right side of it. They play up how callous and evil the gods are with respect to mortal life, and have multiple supporting characters who put this concern front and center where Hades 1 kind of sidelined it. But Melinoe is this weird, uptight honor student type of character with a strong sense of propriety and familial loyalty, and kind of doesn't care about that compared to her quest to rescue her family.

It keeps, like... dropping hints that you're not really on the right side, here? Chronos is personally unpleasant and loathsome, but you keep getting little hints that what he's actually doing is an improvement over how the gods were running things. Various character arcs seem to be headed in a "the gods suck and you should stick up for your non-god friends" direction, but...

...I mean, they can't actually do that, can they? Just, structurally! It's a roguelike, meant to be infinitely replayable! Hades 1 had a pretty elegant resolution to that problem, reframing the gameplay as something that can fit without the central conflict, but I can't imagine how Hades 2 could possibly do that. An entire section of the world takes place on a fleet of ghost ships sailing to join the war effort! Even Melinoe failing to grow and just winning seems incompatible with the game continuing. A good chunk of the game doesn't exist without the conflict! I don't see how they can possibly put a bow on all this, and I'm excited to see how they try.

Paper Mario: The Thousand-Year Door

My favorite game from my childhood has received an updated rerelease on Switch... and they did it right. You gotta check this out.

I've talked about why TTYD is great before- I think one of the first posts on this blog, waaaaaay back in the day when my posts were bad and you shouldn't go looking for them? But the upshot is: the battle system uses small numbers, and you can figure out exactly what kind of damage you can dish out and take in a given turn, and plan your risk-taking and resource management around it precisely- in a way you can't really do when you've got big damage numbers with RNG ranges of outcomes. All the risk is in the execution of your guards and special moves, which let you attempt harder inputs in exchange for more favorable outcomes, with a chance that you'll fail because you fucked up,

Going back to it after so long... honestly, with fresh eyes, the writing isn't quite as lively as I remember? Like, I remember a big reason I was disappointed by later PM games was that there were no partners, or that the partners didn't really talk or figure into the story. But... honestly, TTYD does have that same problem, outside of the chapters where those characters are introduced. Once someone's In Your Party, their relevance is kind of over, and they all deliver pretty similar filler lines while out. That's something they could maybe improve on in a proper sequel.

Still, the writing generally remains sharp and very funny, and the variety of scenarios it throws at you are great. And the remake adds a few things that really enhance the experience- like new remixes of the battle theme for every chapter, and extra animations for every character, even the random background nobodies. You can hit NPCs with your hammer and they'll play a little "hey, ow!" animation now! Different characters get different dialogue bleep sounds! And they added a warp hub for backtracking, so the General White quest isn't so tedious! And a warp pipe between Creepy Steeple and Twilight Town, to cut out like an hour of pointless backtracking! All the changes they made were really smart.

(Including: putting Vivian's trans stuff back in the script, after it was cut in the original localization. Good on you, Nintendo!)

Pokérogue

I was weak. I held out two months, and then gave in. And I regret everything.

This fucking thing ate multiple months of my life. It's... infuriatingly addictive. It boils the Pokémon experience down to this ultra-tuned flow state, with accelerated levelups and mechanics to streamline the game into a roguelike form factor, and it's so goddamn tight. Every moment of it is setting you up with a thing you can do next, so there's no stopping points- just new goal after new goal after new goal. It totally hijacked my brain until I beat the damn thing into submission, doing absolutely everything it's possible to do in it.

Except "ever voluntarily using Skwovet", because fuck that thing.

Don't play this. It's bad for you.

Elden Ring: Shadow of the Erdtree

Technically not a new game, but the DLC is basically an entire new game, with a map about the size of the base game and its own progression system and story.

I don't have too much to say about the DLC itself! It's More Elden Ring. Miquella's story is cool and tragic, the final boss was a terrifying surprise, and the new environments and enemy designs were sick as hell. If you liked Elden Ring for those things, there's more of it here! 'Nuff said.

What stuck out to me was... I started a new character and a whole fresh playthrough of the game, because I didn't know what the entry point to the DLC was. And while last time, I built a strength-focused warrior with tons of HP, this time I decided to try out a totally different build and play a squishy wizard with ranged attacks. And the game was so different like that! Still balanced, still fun, but completely a different game.

Instead of being about getting in close, staying in close, and sticking around for a long time while finding openings to attack, it became about staying at a safe distance, dodging projectiles, and retaliating with nuke spells to end fights before bosses could get much of a chance to hit me. Some areas that were a huge problem for me before were trivialized by my reusable ranged blasts, and some areas that were no trouble were suddenly a difficulty cliff because there was no way to be effective at range. I'm surprised at how much of a transformation it was! Impressive feat of design.

WEBFISHING

This is a cute little multiplayer fishing game based off Animal Crossing's fishing system. It's a relaxing little second-screen game without too much going on! Not too much to say about it- it does what it sets out to do. Kinda wish they'd tried a little harder for some of the fish "jokes", though- a lot of them are anti-humor about not having a joke for this one. I will retaliate by... not having much of a review for this one.

DEATHLOOP

This thing was fuckin' cool. You're an amnesiac trapped in a time loop- but not just any time loop. The people on this island came here specifically to trap themselves in a time loop, where they could kill each other and live out hedonistic fantasies with no consequences, but something fucked up and now only you and a crazy lady who's trying to kill you are actually experiencing the loop. For everyone else, it's their first day, and they don't take kindly to you trying to break the loop and ruin their fun.

In order to break the loop, you have to kill a bunch of important assholes (called "Visionaries") who've somehow anchored the loop to themselves. But you've got to do it in a single day, and they're scattered all over this huge island- so you've got to come up with a plan. Find ways to manipulate where they'll be at what times, when they'll be vulnerable, and line up that perfect killstreak.

It's fun stuff. Initially, it seems impossible- they're too spread out, too inaccessible, too heavily-defended. But as you work on figuring them out one at a time, you learn lots of little details about gaps in their defenses, ways to fuck with their routines, and traps you can set for them so they'll die without you needing to be present. It's like a mystery game, even though the minute-to-minute gameplay is a pretty standard stealth action shooter.

(Said gameplay's pretty fun on its own- though weirdly, the starting pistol pretty much kills everything in the game in one headshot and has perfect accuracy, so I'm not sure why they bother giving you other guns. I upgraded to Frank's SMG which is basically the same gun but it reloads instantly, and basically never needed to use anything else.)

The story's... a little weird. It tries to focus on the relationship between Colt and Julianna (your also-looping nemesis trying to stop you from breaking the loop), but like... she's not... there, except as an annoying random superboss encounter that sometimes spawns in the middle of you trying to do other shit. She's just a voice over the radio that snarks at you and doesn't have any relationships with any of the other characters.

So like, ultimately you learn a twist about who she was to you before you lost your memory, and she explicates her reasons for wanting to protect the loop, and there's like, some decent character work being done there?

Buuuuuut, in attempting to foreground this character dynamic and make it the main resolution to the game, they kind of forgot to give a satisfying resolution to anything else. Like, these seven people you spend the whole game obsessively stalking and learning everything about so you can efficiently murder them in one go... don't really get a resolution other than being anticlimactically murdered. And there's like no resolution to like, what is the loop and how does it work and why did it get fucked up and what are the stakes here. It's all so meticulously done that I get the impression some writer somewhere answered these questions while plotting it, but they just either didn't put any of it in the game, or I missed something huge.

One negative I will say is: this thing made my old computer overheat like instantly. I had to build a proper gaming PC before I could run this thing- and that was in fact my main motivation for building it, was because I wanted to play this game without my laptop melting. Not really playable on smaller machines, even on minimum settings.

-

One more coming down the line, for the games I played but didn't beat this year, and that should do it!

[1] - [2] - 3 - [4]

[bromfieldhall]

NEVER BEEN KISSED - A Polin Fic

Read on AO3

Rating: General

Chapter 2, 3

Summary: Colin finds out that Penelope has never been kissed at midnight on New Year's Eve and resolves to ensure that doesn't happen again.

Pairing: Colin Bridgerton/Penelope Featherington

NEVER BEEN KISSED

Chapter One

The Whistledown Diaries – Musings from a Wallflower

Entry Date: 23rd December

Dearest Gentle Reader,

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a man in possession of good sense will, inevitably, cast aside this Author before Yuletide.

It is true, dear reader, this has not been the first time it has happened to me, although I do not tell you this looking for sympathy. I tell you this so that if it has happened to any of you – know that you are not alone.

In truth, I am not unhappy with this turn of events. In the time we were together, I knew he wasn’t ‘The One’.

How could he be?

As you must know by now, reading my diaries, there has only ever been one man for me.  

It is just a shame that I am not the woman for him.

And that, therein, lies the problem.

Logically, I know I should move on from this unrequited love of mine, but I have found that it is far easier said than done. I have tried and tried, for years, to no avail.

And so, as I go into this holiday season, I have come to an important decision. I shall no longer endeavour to follow my head, but instead I shall succumb my heart. If I am made to be with this man, and ‘only’ this man, then so be it. I have his friendship, it is enough.

I have made my peace with that and I shall be happy.

Content.

It is rather freeing in a way. And pathetic, too, I know. But it is better than trying to be with someone else, knowing full well that I will never be completely theirs. Not when my heart belongs so entirely to another.

Love.

Such a small word for the enormity of feeling that it ignites within oneself.

Happiness, lust, longing, pain.

And hope.  

For there will always be that tiny bit of me that will hold on to that, no matter what.

Well…until such time it comes impossible for me to do so any longer at least. For he ‘will’ find someone, I am sure of it. He is too kind, too generous, too good of a man, not to.

And I shall be happy for him.

Because I love him.

And if someone else makes him as happy as he makes me by just being my friend, then how can I not be glad for that?

But, until then, let us look to the future and the new year. What will it bring, I wonder?

Resolutions that fail within days? Probably.

Finally getting my book finished? Doubtful.

Drinking too much coffee? Definitely.

Deciding to leave my job at least twice a month but never doing so? Absolutely.

The same as this year then it seems…

Much like the New Year’s Eve party that I’ll be attending. It will be a marvellous affair as always. I shall be with friends that are more like family to me than my own. There will be laughter and dancing and then, as the countdown begins, I shall, as always, find myself a quiet corner or terrace or balcony – alone.

Because dear reader, in closing, let me share with you a secret that I’ve not confessed to any other…

At the grand old age of five and twenty, I have never been kissed at the stroke of midnight on New Year’s Eve.

Not romantically, anyway.

Just platonically by friends. After they’ve celebrated with their significant others and family. A quick hug. A quick peck. And yes, even by that particular ‘friend’ once, not so long ago. It was brief and sweet and he was so drunk, he doesn’t even remember.

But I do and I hold the memory dear. A fleeting glimpse of what will never be.

Another reason I can’t move on, I fear.

But let me not finish this final entry for the year in melancholy. Tis the time for good cheer, is it not?

And so, I wish you all the merriest of times over these holidays, however you do or do not celebrate and the happiest and healthiest new year.

Until then, dear reader,

Yours truly,

The Whistledown Diaries

Colin Bridgerton sat back in his chair with a huff, his mind reeling.

Along with work, he’d just spent the better part of three days reading through all the many, many posts submitted to The Whistledown Diaries blog over the past few years.

Some entries were short, a snapshot of moments in life that the writer had simply needed to get down.

Some were longer, an outpouring of feelings and thoughts so raw that they had reached out from the screen and wrapped around his heart, squeezing it tightly.

He blinked a couple of times then leaned forward and read through the last entry again.

‘Because I love him.’

‘He doesn’t even remember.’

‘Never been kissed.’

‘Never been kissed.’

Abruptly, he grabbed his phone and pulled up his WhatsApp then typed out a brief message.

‘I’m coming home.’

The almost immediate reply was just as succinct.

‘About bloody time.’

He let out a snort at that. Too right. He was done with running. Didn’t even know why he’d started in the first place. Well, no, actually, he did. He was stupid…and a coward, that’s why.

He brought up another screen on his laptop and began to search for flights. He was in currently in Sicily. The latest stop on the European tour he was doing working freelance for a small travel magazine that was trying to gain a name for itself. As such they had offered him a near continuous stream of work for past several months that he had taken on without hardly having a break. He hadn’t even been home for Christmas this year, settling instead for sharing a video call with his family.

It had been hard not to be there with them, but the truth was that it would’ve been even harder to be around Penelope when she had a boyfriend in tow. One that had seemed like a keeper considering they’d been together for nigh on seven months.

But now they weren’t, according to his sister – and that blog.

He found a flight out for two days time, that would get him home the day before New Year’s Eve and quickly booked it. Then he went back to the blog page and read through it once more.

After his video call with his family on Christmas day, he’d received another one from his sister, Eloise. He’d been surprised when he saw her name and wondered what could have happened in the twenty minutes or so since they’d last spoken.

“Tell me the real reason you haven’t come home this Christmas,” she’d said without preamble when he’d answered her call.

“I don’t know what you mean. I’m working, El, I told you,” he’d replied mildly.

“That’s never stopped you coming home before,” she’d pointed out curtly. “So why now?”

He’d faltered, not wanting to lie but not ready to admit the truth.

“I don’t know what you expect me to say,” he’d deflected instead.

“I expect you to tell me the truth, Colin,” she’d snapped. When he’d remained silent, she’d let out a sigh and shook her head at him. “It’s because of Pen, isn’t it? Something happened last New Year’s that made you panic and leave.”

“No,” he’d denied quickly. “Of course not.”

“Yes, Colin, it did. You upped and left without talking to anyone and I can’t help but wonder if it’s because you finally realised what we’ve all known for years now.”

“And what’s that?” he’d hedged, not sure he’d wanted to know.

“That you love her, you idiot.”

His stomach had dropped.

 “I-I…El, that’s…” he’d stammered. Faced with it said outright like that, he’d got flustered.

“Yeah, listen, while you’re trying to think up a suitable denial, I’m going to send you a link.”

“A link?” he’d repeated, starting to flounder as he’d tried to get his head around the sudden change of topic. “What for?”

“A blog. You should read it from the beginning.”

“Eloise…”

“Just read it, Colin,” she’d insisted.

“But…”

“Look, I have to go, Pen’s here and we’re starting game night in a minute.” She’d paused and glanced to the side before looking back at him and lowering her voice. “I promised the rest of the family that I wouldn’t interfere, but I can’t stand quietly by any longer. She’s broken up with the twat, so, get your head out your arse, read the blog and hopefully it’ll stop whatever spiral you’ve been going down this last year, okay?”

She’d ended the call before he’d had a chance to respond for which he was grateful because he’d still been reeling from her blunt declaration that she knew that he loved Penelope.

It had been petty, but he’d not looked at the link she’d sent over until the next morning. It’d been a pointless protest that, in reality, had bothered him far more than his sister who obviously hadn’t even been aware.

Once he’d finally sat down and opened it up though, it’d been like a punch to the gut. He’d known from practically the first few entries that Penelope was the ‘Author’. He’d almost stopped when he’d realised, feeling as though he was intruding on her privacy…but then she’d mentioned him. At least he hoped it was him. A blue-eyed, brown-haired boy that she had a crush on. A friend. A large family where she was also friends with his sister…

Of course it was him.

It’d been a struggle at times, to see what life was like through her eyes. Her family were worse than he’d realised. Her mother, her sisters, the things they said to her. It made his blood boil.

But not as much as his own obliviousness did.

Or his own cowardness.

It shamed him that at his first realisation that he had feelings for her, he’d run. And had kept running.

That kiss that she thought he didn’t remember was burned deep into his brain. Nearly twelve months later and he could still recall with vivid clarity how perfect her full lips had felt when he’d pressed his mouth to hers. How soft the curves of her body had felt in his arms. At night his dreams had tortured him with it…and more.

And yes, it had been brief, but it had also been as though a fog had lifted when they’d parted. Suddenly, all the feelings that had bubbled away under the surface that he’d either ignored or labelled as ‘friendship’ over the years crystallised into one word that burned bright in his heart – love.

And it had scared the bloody life out of him.

He hadn’t been drunk, he’d been blindsided. The friendly kiss he’d given her because it was New Year’s, had rendered him incapable of speech as his mind had whirled. He’d wanted to kiss her again. He should have kissed her again but, he’d forced a smile and walked away instead.

Not his finest hour. Not his finest anything really.

He’d gone back to his flat and booked the first flight for the following day that he could find. Zanzibar as it’d turned out. He’d sent a message to his family group chat explaining that a job had turned up that was too good to turn down and then he’d left.

He’d messaged Penelope as well. Kept it light, friendly. He’d just needed a little time to decide what to do. The next he’d heard though, she’d met a guy and was dating him. He’d been absolutely devastated. Then the magazine had contacted him and he’d been working his backside off ever since. It was a good distraction for a most part and he still kept in some contact with her, although not nearly as much as he had done in the past.

He hadn’t thought she’d noticed, but reading her blog, she clearly had and now he felt the added guilt of that too.

He let out a heavy sigh and scrolled through the comments of her last entry. They were mainly supportive, mostly wishing her a happy Christmas back. Some told her to move on from him and others told her that one day he’d wake up and see what was right in front of him.

Well, that day had come and this year she was going to get kissed on New Year’s Eve properly. And every damn one after that too if he had his way.

He picked up his phone again and sent Eloise another quick message.

‘Don’t tell Pen. Want it to be a surprise.’

She came back with a thumbs up emoji and he put his phone down. He needed to get to work. He still had a couple more restaurants and the Capuchin Catacombs in Palermo to visit before he left.

He got dressed for dinner and headed out of the door feeling happier than he had in months.

Penelope loved him and soon she would know that it wasn’t as unrequited as she thought.

[axolistic]

ANOTHER AU BABY: BIOTEC

I mainly made this AU in order to rationalize the universe where my fic takes place since with the release of the most recent episode of AvA it stopped being canon compliant.

Here's a brief summary of it:

In this AU, instead of building the rocket, Victim pulled a TCO and used the internet to escape. He landed on stick city and formed Rocket Corp (idk what to do with the name)

Mitsi does exist and might make some sort of cameo in the future (during flashbacks ofc). My interpretation of Agent will probably also stay the same, and yes, he is friends with Mitsi too.

Mitsi also has a company, though I don't have the details completely polished, I have some things in mind. Mitsi's business focuses on biology and chemistry (too improve the stick people's lives in general, from the village); while Rocket Corp has a more mechanical approach and focuses on weapons.

Victim DOES connect TCO with Alan, when researching the Showdown. Though the whole 'interrogation' thing was Smith's idea.

Last but not least, Victim's personality, views and goals WILL be different from canon, seeing that he doesn't have a support system in this scenario.

(copied directly from my fic)

More Notes:

Agent used to work for Mitsi and was very close with her, after she died, he decided to work with Victim since they shared a same goal (capturing TCO) and also because his source of income was disrupted.

Agent was the one that convinced Victim to be more rash with his interrogation of TCO. Victim did not care, mostly because he thought that it would also be more efficient and keep Agent satisfied.

Victim does not have a personal problem with TCO, its simply the fact that he works with Alan (according to what information he has available)

In contrast to canon Victim (who I assume has more experience with social interaction etc.) This AU's Victim is more awkward around other sticks.

Due to his lack of a support system, he is more prone to anger and dismissing other feelings, as well as extreme touch-starvation. He might have some problems opening up to people, etc.