#୨୧ fewer explosions more words

[ketaks]

you don’t know what fate is until, already halfway into assembling your Halloween costume, you realize you are unintentionally going as both your parents’ worst nightmares (your mom’s: a queer-coded man; your dad’s: the main character of the Disney movie he unceremoniously removed you from 23 years ago come to exact revenge…and also a queer-coded man)

(spoiler alert: it’s Milo Thatch…specifically his stock-art olive green trenchcoat look thanks to a spectacular find at my workplace ♡ I have an amazing light-up crystal on the way from Etsy, glasses from Amazon, and can easily thrift all the rest within the next three weeks…damn I’m so excited)

[ketaks]

three thoughts on the three Atlantis cameos in Disney’s House of Mouse:

I know the widely accepted Disney/cartoon multiverse trope is “characters ‘behind the camera’ are just regular people, and villains and heroes are indifferent to each other at worst”…and yet it SENDS me seeing Rourke glance at Kida with about as much “shock” as someone glancing out their car at an airplane (and Aladdin and Jasmine just frozen and staring off like statues).

Packard having the only speaking part makes some sense, as I imagine Fox and Garner were out of Disney’s budget to record a single line each for a TV series (and a replacement likely wasn’t yet cast this far ahead of Milo’s Return). But Cree Summer (obviously already a major TV voice actor) seemingly could have easily returned, because some spoken Kida interactions (especially with the other princesses) would have been SO fun. There was an episode where Mickey brings various characters to Ludwig Von Drake’s table to attempt to stump him in a lightning round of trivia, and Kida having him translate some Atlantean would have fit right into that scene.

Milo’s cameo is from the episode where Goofy goes crazy making “Bibbidi Bobbidi Stew,” which everybody loves because it tastes to them like their favorite food…so it really makes one wonder since the movie never mentions that (besides that it is definitely NOT carrots). “What’s your favorite food?” probably is not the rarest thing children ask the park face characters if it isn’t obvious in canon, so now I am very curious if any of the tie-in books ever state this outright (or any other character’s; besides Cookie’s, assuming he sticks to his own regimen).

[ketaks]

“so, why Atlantis?”

I shared some very quick and informal thoughts a while back on why I hoped enough children grew up with the movie (or are discovering it now) to be influenced by Kida despite her exclusion from the “Disney Princess” brand; or by Milo as an unconventional hero who might remind them of themselves. that post received a couple of standout personal additions from mutuals, so I thought I would share my own “Atlantis story” whether anyone asked for it or not, because it is a bit different. it’s a so-so sample of my writing to lead with and came out schmaltzier than intended; but it’s how my pen happened to hit the paper in the moment and shows pretty clearly my typical romanticism, for better or worse.

I was eight years old on opening day in 2001 and as ecstatic as a little girl could be. my mom and I had taken a day trip to see my dad, who out of the goodness of his heart had agreed to sit through a local children’s entertainer in the afternoon and then a Disney movie in the evening. but in between singing puppets and my difficulty keeping still and responding as expected to questions and social cues, his patience started wearing and my mom slipping into a helpless bystander role. when we got to the theater, I had a gut feeling nobody was in for a fun time.

“two adults, one child for Atlantis,” my dad groaned at the ticket window.

I felt I was sitting between one person having teeth pulled and another smiling for the most awkward photos of her life. my mom was always my animated movie buddy, so her silence especially was deafening. her chuckle at Milo in the boiler room was a pin dropping, and her breath in on Helga’s “ho, ho, ho” was a disquieting hiss.

…alright, my dad finally motioned as the Leviathan tore across the screen.

“they talk so fast, it’s hard for me to understand them. and there aren’t even any songs,” was the most explanation my mom would give. the ride home was long, silent, and pitch-black as I lay across the backseat. I wanted to know what happened to Milo, but the wooziness of shame swirling through me let me know that wanting wasn’t even worth it.

pin trading was at its peak the next year at Disney World, and I was on a mission to fill my new pink lanyard with all my favorite characters before the trip was done. in very little time I found myself gazing up at a cast member wearing a Milo pin, and I shocked myself how quickly I asked her for it. I hoped holding onto it would reassure me that that wonderful story and character would wait for me as long as I needed.

watching the movie in high school felt a bit like the very rare party I was lucky enough to inexplicably find myself. I loved what I saw, but I felt my simply being there was a fluke. I wondered at first why I struggled to enjoy beyond arm’s length, but the damage was still in effect. it only reminded me again what I wished every single day: that my brain had kept developing normally, and all the things my autism either distorted or outright forbid would have happened exactly as they were meant. and since attitudes toward special interests had far to go, what would have fed me soup and covered me in kisses at age six could only visit through the glass at sixteen.

the days of LiveJournal and early Tumblr and Instagram came and went, and “Disney adult” culture went from a trickle to a wave. I attended community college as an English major and met my sister-bestie @scp-113 there on Halloween 2013, she dressed as Violet Parr and I as Minnie Mouse. our Anna and Elsa cosplay just a month later on opening night of Frozen couldn’t have been more fitting. a decade later, she made my dream come true of finally seeing Disney World as an adult, and no planning could have prepared me for the personal growth that trip would inspire. I loved throwing my arms around Mirabel in the Magic Kingdom because of, not despite, the emotional control that had finally taken hold at thirty. I wouldn’t have traded that interaction for the one awaiting the costumed little girl right behind me. that realization shook me to the bone.

“don’t cry because it’s over. smile because it happened,” my dad would tell me countless times since childhood with only the best intentions. “I haven’t been able to stop smiling,” I told him week after week following my trip. falling asleep for months scrolling back through those four special days was the most satisfying thing ever.

then one night, deep within a Magic Kingdom dream like any other, there they were. Milo Thatch and Princess Kida, just as they appeared in the “rare character guide” videos I had watched before the trip many months ago. they were hugging a child who had just run up to meet them: a young girl who looked very familiar. that settles it, I thought. the circle had at last closed.

now about once a week, my darling pup hears, “ready for Atlantis?” or “ready for Milo?” and leaps to my side in bed as I start the movie on my laptop. indeed, it feels exactly like a big warm hug every time. the artistry, the story, the characters, the humor, the heart. Milo is every bit the hero I needed as an uncertain child who loved words and language but hated being different…but he’s the one I got as an adult finding peace with her brain and eager to keep chasing her dreams. I’m writing more original words every day, journaling again, and speaking and thinking more fluidly all because of jotting down random thoughts about this movie and liking how they sounded. I’ve also put aside the idea that the influencer path might bring me joy, and I feel comfortable online again and have met some great folks so far through fan works and discussions from silly to profound.

and so I thank that little voice that whispered for 23 years: “…Atlantis is waiting.”

[ketaks]

“…That’s the one where he goes up in a balloon, right?”

—my supervisor, who looks and sounds exactly like Mrs. Packard, at my mention of Atlantis yesterday in the break room

[ketaks]

not @thetinyadventurer making Claudia Christian (& The Be Five) leap to the top of my playlist because I am a jazz hound of the highest caliber (psst, check out Diana Krall or Holly Cole if you want more of the same vibe!)

Atlantis truly has been the fixation that keeps giving and giving and I am so grateful ♡

[ketaks]

I appreciate both of these additions so much. I actually already saw you each mention this while combing through your Atlantis archives and wanted to tell you I loved reading your thoughts ♡ I definitely plan to share my own Atlantis story as well—it takes quite a different path and has a rockier start, but I feel it is worth telling because of how therapeutic this movie has been for 31-year-old me just the last few months.

I guess what I had in mind when I remembered this comic and wanted to share it was the present day, two decades deep into princess mania, with “Disney adults” now having “Disney families” with easier access to the films than ever. a kid who might discover it today through a parent, scrolling through Disney+, or curious from a storybook or piece of merchandise (or even seeing the Milo and Kida park characters on a rare appearance). and falling in love, the most love, with these characters even while inundated with all the others every single day. that is a child I would be so honored to know and to get to remind how extraordinary they are.

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Pocket Princesses (@officialpocketprincesses)

Cree Summer has mentioned her disappointment that Kida is excluded from the official princess lineup, and people credit that to the failure of the movie…but I think the real reason is closer to: “ooh, she’s pretty! let’s watch her movie now!” / “Mommy, turn it off! this is boring and/or scary! where’s the princess? and why is nobody singing?!”

…which is why it would be so, so, SO inspiring to know that somewhere out there, in the sea of little Elsa acolytes, is a tiny child whose hero is this kind, curious, and powerful ancient queen—or possibly cooler yet, the lovable brainiac who followed his dream and bravely helped her restore her legendary kingdom ♡

[ketaks]

thank you so much for sharing your story as well, @mrssantinni! all the personal experiences I have so far seen shared by fans are very heartwarming and, I dunno, just make me feel a little better about humanity even in such tiny part. I, too, am so grateful to the film team for putting something so comforting out into the world—a movie that’s culturally an underdog itself, about an underdog, that resonated with kids (and adults) in odd and/or hard circumstances. I have also considered checking out that group if I can get past my aversion to Facebook, since anonymity has been much healthier to me and I don’t want to be identified as “the one obsessed with that Disney movie” when I need to put my face out there. ooh, I wish you luck at D23! I’m only now starting my own collection but hope the 25th anniversary will bring even more special things, like a Milo and Kida collector doll set ♡

“so, why Atlantis?”

I shared some very quick and informal thoughts a while back on why I hoped enough children grew up with the movie (or are discovering it now) to be influenced by Kida despite her exclusion from the “Disney Princess” brand; or by Milo as an unconventional hero who might remind them of themselves. that post received a couple of standout personal additions from mutuals, so I thought I would share my own “Atlantis story” whether anyone asked for it or not, because it is a bit different. it’s a so-so sample of my writing to lead with and came out schmaltzier than intended; but it’s how my pen happened to hit the paper in the moment and shows pretty clearly my typical romanticism, for better or worse.

I was eight years old on opening day in 2001 and as ecstatic as a little girl could be. my mom and I had taken a day trip to see my dad, who out of the goodness of his heart had agreed to sit through a local children’s entertainer in the afternoon and then a Disney movie in the evening. but in between singing puppets and my difficulty keeping still and responding as expected to questions and social cues, his patience started wearing and my mom slipping into a helpless bystander role. when we got to the theater, I had a gut feeling nobody was in for a fun time.

“two adults, one child for Atlantis,” my dad groaned at the ticket window.

I felt I was sitting between one person having teeth pulled and another smiling for the most awkward photos of her life. my mom was always my animated movie buddy, so her silence especially was deafening. her chuckle at Milo in the boiler room was a pin dropping, and her breath in on Helga’s “ho, ho, ho” was a disquieting hiss.

…alright, my dad finally motioned as the Leviathan tore across the screen.

“they talk so fast, it’s hard for me to understand them. and there aren’t even any songs,” was the most explanation my mom would give. the ride home was long, silent, and pitch-black as I lay across the backseat. I wanted to know what happened to Milo, but the wooziness of shame swirling through me let me know that wanting wasn’t even worth it.

pin trading was at its peak the next year at Disney World, and I was on a mission to fill my new pink lanyard with all my favorite characters before the trip was done. in very little time I found myself gazing up at a cast member wearing a Milo pin, and I shocked myself how quickly I asked her for it. I hoped holding onto it would reassure me that that wonderful story and character would wait for me as long as I needed.

watching the movie in high school felt a bit like the very rare party I was lucky enough to inexplicably find myself. I loved what I saw, but I felt my simply being there was a fluke. I wondered at first why I struggled to enjoy beyond arm’s length, but the damage was still in effect. it only reminded me again what I wished every single day: that my brain had kept developing normally, and all the things my autism either distorted or outright forbid would have happened exactly as they were meant. and since attitudes toward special interests had far to go, what would have fed me soup and covered me in kisses at age six could only visit through the glass at sixteen.

the days of LiveJournal and early Tumblr and Instagram came and went, and “Disney adult” culture went from a trickle to a wave. I attended community college as an English major and met my sister-bestie @scp-113 there on Halloween 2013, she dressed as Violet Parr and I as Minnie Mouse. our Anna and Elsa cosplay just a month later on opening night of Frozen couldn’t have been more fitting. a decade later, she made my dream come true of finally seeing Disney World as an adult, and no planning could have prepared me for the personal growth that trip would inspire. I loved throwing my arms around Mirabel in the Magic Kingdom because of, not despite, the emotional control that had finally taken hold at thirty. I wouldn’t have traded that interaction for the one awaiting the costumed little girl right behind me. that realization shook me to the bone.

“don’t cry because it’s over. smile because it happened,” my dad would tell me countless times since childhood with only the best intentions. “I haven’t been able to stop smiling,” I told him week after week following my trip. falling asleep for months scrolling back through those four special days was the most satisfying thing ever.

then one night, deep within a Magic Kingdom dream like any other, there they were. Milo Thatch and Princess Kida, just as they appeared in the “rare character guide” videos I had watched before the trip many months ago. they were hugging a child who had just run up to meet them: a young girl who looked very familiar. that settles it, I thought. the circle had at last closed.

now about once a week, my darling pup hears, “ready for Atlantis?” or “ready for Milo?” and leaps to my side in bed as I start the movie on my laptop. indeed, it feels exactly like a big warm hug every time. the artistry, the story, the characters, the humor, the heart. Milo is every bit the hero I needed as an uncertain child who loved words and language but hated being different…but he’s the one I got as an adult finding peace with her brain and eager to keep chasing her dreams. I’m writing more original words every day, journaling again, and speaking and thinking more fluidly all because of jotting down random thoughts about this movie and liking how they sounded. I’ve also put aside the idea that the influencer path might bring me joy, and I feel comfortable online again and have met some great folks so far through fan works and discussions from silly to profound.

and so I thank that little voice that whispered for 23 years: “…Atlantis is waiting.”