#lmao like what is all your praising giving me actually when its still a rejection

[wannaremember]

.

[marvelouspeterparker]

the perfect touch

pairing: tom holland x touchstarved!reader

summary: you’ve never really had an intimate relationship with anyone before, you’ve never really felt close to anyone either—literally. you rarely let people touch you but you secretly crave affection. what happens when you finally find the one person you want to touch you—tom.

warnings: smut (it gets a bit dirty lmao)

word count: 5.2k

notes: this came to me randomly when i was thinking about my crush so it’s a little personal. it’s how i think i would react to the situation, i’m sorry if you hope to relate to it but can’t :( #touchstarvedgang

give me feedback! :)

Tom knew what was going on inside your head—you made sure to tell him that he was your first boyfriend, that he would be the first to touch you, that you were a little scared but wanting. So he made sure to pay attention to you in case you were too nervous to say what you wanted. He had gotten pretty good at reading you.

Sometimes you would scoot just a little closer to him on the couch, you’d rest your hand on your thigh, right next to his, tapping your fingers anxiously against your leg—he’d take notice and smile to himself before taking your hand in his, rubbing the back of it with his thumb. The first time he’d done it, you swear you forgot how to breathe for a few seconds.

Once, you were practically falling asleep in the back of your uber, your head was practically falling every five seconds but you were forcing yourself to stay up. You would have loved to rest your head on tom’s shoulder but you didn’t want to be annoying and you of all people could understand that sometimes people didn’t want to be touched. You also feared rejection so that was another issue... what if he said no? So you just resorted to letting your head roll around on the headrest as you tried your best not to pass out.

Tom finally noticed when your head snapped up rather sharply at a red light, the abrupt stop making you jolt. He turned to look at you, confused, but his gaze softened once he realized what you were up to.

“Darling, you can rest your head on me if you’d like.”

You immediately shook your head, “no it’s—“

But he interrupted you, “I’m not gonna let you break your neck trying to stay awake,” he looked at you earnestly, “I don’t mind, I swear.”

You just looked at him as he sat back making himself comfortable, before patting his shoulder, “Come on then,” he smiled.

You moved hesitantly and put your head on his shoulder and were a little disappointed when it wasn’t as comfortable as you’d hoped it would be. You tried to move around a bit a couple times but suddenly became very aware of the fact that moving around so much could be very annoying so you stayed in an uncomfortable position, your neck straining as you tried not to put your full weight on him.

He noticed that your body was tense, your posture stiff––so he nudged you a bit. Thinking he wanted you off of him, you got ready to lean against the window when he put a hand on your thigh, asking you to look at him. It took you a second to actually hear what he was saying since you could feel your skin burning under where he was touching.

“No wait, I just-thought you would be more comfortable like this” he said before opening his arm for you to tuck yourself into his chest, giving you a soft smile.

You replied a barely audible “oh” before moving into position again. Now this was way more comfortable—his arm wrapped around you and his hand subconsciously started rubbing up and down your arm, practically lulling you to sleep.

“Is this okay?” he asked softly. 

You nodded in response, leaning further into him. Though his exterior was calm and collected, you could feel his heart beating rather fast and you couldn’t help but smile. Tom was very aware of the fact that you could feel and hear his heartbeat, and he may or may not have suggested you move for you to be able to do so. Soon enough, the constant beat was putting you to sleep.

When you woke up something felt different. Your eyes were still closed but you could feel that something had changed. Before you could process anything you felt Tom’s lips press a gentle kiss to your forehead, “we’re almost there, darling.”

You hummed and opened your eyes to look up at him, noticing an almost knowing smile on his face. You were about to reply when you realized you were literally in his lap, your legs over his, his arms caging you protectively. Your eyes widened and you were about to get off of him when his arms tightened, “No, stay.” He held you closer, pressing his cheek to your forehead, “You feel nice.”

Instead of disagreeing, you settled back into your previous position. “How did I even manage to get on top of you?” you mumbled against his shirt.

“You kept shuffling around and putting one of your legs over mine, so I just moved you completely to save you the trouble.”

You cringed at the thought of your restless movements annoying him before he continued, “Was really cute, honestly.”

You felt your cheeks heat up and you tucked your head further into his chest so he wouldn’t see you smile, but you were almost certain that he felt it.

                                                          ––––

As your relationship progressed, you could feel yourself getting more comfortable with Tom. Being with him felt like a dream, and sometimes you couldn’t believe he was real, that he was really with you––but he knew just how to assure you that he was here and that he wasn’t going anywhere. 

You felt his lips glide over your chest, just above the neck line of your shirt—you could have sworn your heart was going to beat out of your chest and the thought that Tom could hear and feel your elevating heart race made it beat even faster.

He looked up at you, his hands caressing your waist, “S’this okay, love?” he asked, a smirk on his face—he knew damn well you were enjoying yourself.

You nodded, licking your lips since suddenly your throat felt dryer than ever. “Really okay” you whispered, your voice raspy. You saw him swallow visibly at the sound of your voice and knowing that you could have that effect on him, boosted your ego just a little.

His hands squeezed your waist slightly and the feeling of his fingertips grasping you had you gasping and squirming in his lap. He bit his lip as he dragged his gaze up and down your body before leaning in again. Instead of just leaving pecks here and there, you sucked in a breath when you felt his tongue swipe across your collarbone. Your eyes rolled back to your head when he bit down softly and you could feel him smile against you.

One of his hands slid up your body, tracing every curve on its path before holding the side of your neck and you physically shivered at his touch. You almost felt embarrassed by your reactions but all that was pushed aside when you felt and heard him groan against you and you felt his bulge growing underneath you. 

His lips made their way back up to your neck, kissing and biting at every spot until he found the one that made your back arch into his touch. The movement made you rut against him and you couldn’t help but moan out loud. Shocked at how loud you were, you bit your lip but Tom was quick to pull away, his thumb tracing your lips, “Ah ah, I wanna hear you.” You released your lip and he pressed a chaste kiss to it before turning his attention back to your neck. 

“That felt nice, didn’t it?” You hummed an agreement and you felt him smile against your neck. “Why don’t you keep moving your hips like that, then? Wanna make you feel good.”

You were hesitant to do as he said, afraid that the action would make you seem a little desperate, almost like a dog humping something, you thought. But once you started and Tom began moving along with you, the pleasure clouded your doubts.

He growled into your neck and you swear you just about pooled in your underwear, “Just like that, love. Doing so good for me––fuck.”

Aaand yup––definitely have a praise kink, you thought to yourself. 

You felt yourself get closer and closer with every movement, every push and pull from Tom’s eager hands guiding you on top of him. Your movements became unsteady as you neared your high and Tom soon took full control of your hips, whispering sweet nothings to you, coaxing you to release. 

“Come on princess, let go for me.” He pulled back to look at you after leaving a small kiss on your jaw. “Look so pretty for me, riding my thigh like this.”

You let out a small whimper at his words, you felt like you were on fire.

“Come for me, love.” 

Your breath hitched and your body tensed on top of him, your hands gripping at his shoulders and he smiled at you, completely in awe of how incredible you looked. You collapsed onto his chest and his arms were quick to find their way around you. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, “Did so good for me, darling.”

Your heart fluttered at his words––at him. He always knew what to do, what to say. 

He wasn’t going to go any further until you explicitly told him you were ready, he was respectful and you couldn’t be more grateful that you found someone as sweet as him. That most definitely deserves a reward, you thought. You were tired of seeing him go to the bathroom to take care of himself after every time you guys did something––or more importantly he did something for you. You felt a little guilty, even though he told assured you it was no problem and he’d do it for as long as he needed to until you were ready. 

Before he could run off to the bathroom, you quickly got down on your knees in front of him, putting your hands on both of his thighs as you looked up at him with those innocent eyes of yours and you could have sworn you heard him swallow at the sight of you. 

“W--What are you doing?”

You licked your lips, “I wanna help you.”

He brought a hand to your cheek, his thumb softly caressing your skin and you turned your head to kiss his palm before nuzzling further into his touch. “It’s my turn to make you feel good.” 

He looked at you earnestly, “You know you don’t have to, right?”

You nodded, “I know,” you smiled, “I really want to, though.” You looked between his eyes and his bulge, biting your lip, “I’ve been thinking about it for a while.”

You looked up at him again once you heard him curse. “Well, how can I say no to my girl?” He pulled down his sweats, then his underwear and you hate to admit it but your mouth may have watered. 

He bit his lip as he looked down at you on your knees in front of him, it was an even prettier sight than he had imagined––and trust me he thought about it a lot. He stroked his cock and you licked your lips. “D’you want me to sit or stand, love?” 

“Um,” you cleared your throat, “whichever is––more comfortable for you.” 

He smiled, taking his seat again. It seemed he was a bit nervous too. He just wanted to make this as enjoyable and comfortable for you as well. 

Once he was situated, you took a deep breath and moved closer. “Okay––I just––I might need you to teach me a bit, yeah?” You looked up at him and he tried his best to control his breathing. 

“Yeah, yeah, of course.” He tried his best to make it seem as though he was totally composed and in control but on the inside he was freaking out, perhaps even more than you. You drove him crazy with just the looks you gave him and the sounds you made...Now that you were actually going to touch him? He was almost certain he’d immediately combust. 

You grabbed him at his base and he hissed at the feeling. You paused, eyes wide as you gauged his reaction. 

“Sorry, just felt good, that’s all––promise,” he chuckled nervously.

You nodded slowly and shifted your attention back to the task at hand. You noticed the precum pooling at his tip and swirled your thumb around it, spreading it around to make your movements smoother. You guessed it was the right move as Tom’s breathing became heavier from it. 

You swirled your hand around until his whole member was slick and he cursed under his breath. “Just like that––don’t even need my help you’re doing so good.” 

He tried his best to keep his eyes open but with how good you were making him feel, he couldn’t help but let his eyes flutter shut. But once he felt your tongue swirl around his tip, his eyes blew wide open, ”Holy shit––”

It was your plan the whole time to get your mouth on him, but from his reaction, it seemed that he wasn’t expecting it. You immediately popped off of him, “Oh! I’m sorry I––”

“No no,” he cut you off, leaning forward to kiss you. “I’m sorry love, I just wasn’t expecting that. But um you can, continue,” he laughed, sitting back. 

You put your mouth around him, swirling your tongue since you’d heard it felt good (and apparently that was true based on Tom’s reaction) and began to bob your head slowly. Meanwhile, Tom’s eyes rolled to the back of his head, as his hands came up to rest on your head––not to guide your movements but just to feel you. 

You started to suck as your movements sped up and that’s when Tom almost lost his mind. His hips were straining not to buck into your mouth––the last thing he wanted to do was hurt you. 

You focused on your breathing and closed your eyes, putting all your effort in to pleasing him. He’d been the perfect boyfriend so far and you finally gathered the courage to actually do something for him. It had to be perfect. 

You peeked at him for a moment as you reached a hand up grasp his balls, and you could see it practically sucked a breath of air from him. Soon enough, he was reaching his high. 

“Oh god––I’m gonna cum darling.” He tried to move back so he could finish elsewhere but you put a hand on his thigh to stop him and his eyes widened. 

“Love I––” 

You pulled off of him causing an obscene wet noise but you were too focused on him to be embarrassed. You wiped your hand with the back of your mouth and looked up at him and though the action was sloppy and careless, it made him throb, “I want you to cum in my mouth,” you stated simply before diving back in, your hand pumping the rest of his length that your mouth couldn’t reach. And within seconds, before he could even react, he was shooting his load, muscles tensing as a broken cry escaped his lips. 

“F––Fuck darling.”

You pumped him through his high smiled up at him, feeling proud. Once he realized that you swallowed, he chuckled in disbelief, “How did I manage to get the most perfect girl in the world?” 

“I’m the one who got the most perfect boy.” You smiled, rolling your eyes and got into the bed as he pulled up his underwear and his sweats. He turned off the lights and made his way over to his side of the bed. He lied on his back and wrapped his arm around you and you settled in comfortably, feeling satisfied with the job you’d done. 

He kissed your forehead as you both settled in to sleep. “When you’re ready, I’m gonna return the favor––and I swear I’ll eat you for hours if you’ll let me.” 

You closed your eyes and nuzzled into his chest, the biggest smile on your face as you tried your best to calm your heartbeat–-the one in your chest...and the one between your legs.

                                                       –––––––

You had been thinking about it since before you started dating Tom––not that you were obsessed with sex or anything but you had always wondered what it would be like your first time, if it would feel good––a whole bunch of stuff, really. 

But more recently you had been thinking about it with Tom––you were ready to take that step with him, you were just hoping that your nerves would have calmed down by now. 

Here you were, Tom hovering over you and you couldn’t even focus on the pleasure––you were too busy being stuck in your own head, trapped by your own thoughts. Your boyfriend was shirtless on top of you and your anxiety couldn’t even wait for one moment and just let you have this–– 

Tom, always picking up on your signals, immediately pulled away from you, leaving the mark he was working on to slowly fade away. He looked into your eyes, “What’s wrong?” He moved so that he was sitting up beside you. “You’re not fully here with me, what’s up?”

You sat up, clasping your hands together in your lap. “I just––you know that I’ve never...done anything with anyone,” you paused to look at him, continuing after he gave you a small encouraging smile, his hand resting on your thigh reassuringly, not moving as he didn’t want to make you more nervous and he knew how much his touch gave you butterflies. “I guess I’m a little scared that you won’t like what you see? Or that...I don’t know––this is just a little overwhelming.” 

“Well darling, I am one hundred percent certain that I will find you absolutely breathtaking as soon as you take your clothes off, given the fact that you take my breath away fully clothed, already.” He chuckled before looking at you seriously and sincerely, “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to today. You know that, right?”

You perked up immediately, “No no, Tom I’m sure that I want to do this with you,” you leaned in to give him a quick peck on the lips. “I really do...”

You took a deep breath and stood up before peeling your sweats off. You heard Tom’s breathing slow down as you stepped out of them. You looked up at him and saw that his eyes were glued to your thighs, his lips parted. You started dating in the fall, and it was still winter, so he hadn’t even seen you in shorts yet. 

You bit your lip before and peeled your shirt off, leaving you in just your bra and panties. Seeming to snap himself out of his trance, Tom stood up as well. 

“Seems only fair,” he smiled, pulling his sweats down. He stepped close to you and you looked up at him, feeling goosebumps rise on your skin. “Can I?” He asked, gesturing to your undergarments. 

You nodded, swallowing thickly before turning around. You could feel his breath fanning your neck and jolted slightly when you felt him press a wet kiss to your neck. His hands came up to your waist, his fingers caressing you softly before reaching up and unclasping your bra. He pushed the straps down your arms and you gasped slightly as the cold air hit you, your nipples hardening immediately. 

You heard and felt his breath hitch behind you. His hands came up around you, feeling and squeezing your breasts, “You’re gorgeous.”

You turned around and leaned up to kiss him, his hands found their place on your ass and you moaned breathlessly into his lips. He broke the kiss reluctantly and got down on his knees in front of you. He looked up at you, leaving kisses on your stomach and you stopped breathing for a minute––he just looked so enticing, so lustful for you. 

His hands caressed your thighs, moving up slowly before reaching the waistline of your panties. Carefully, not moving his eyes from yours, he slid them down your legs, leaving soft kisses as you stepped out of them. He quickly stood up and rid himself of his own underwear before leaning in to kiss you again. 

“Let’s get on the bed, yeah?” You nodded into the kiss and moved backward until you hit the bed. You dropped down onto it and moved into the middle, Tom hovered on top of you, resuming his position from the start. 

He looked into your eyes, his hand gently holding your cheek “You ready, baby?”

You nuzzled into his touch and nodded, “Yes, promise.”

He muttered a soft okay before kissing you on the lips again, then began trailing his lips down your body ever so softly. He kissed between your breasts, while grasping them both in his hands. Your back arched at his touch and you felt him smile into your chest. 

His lips trailed down even further, until he reached under your belly button. He looked up at you and spread your legs, before finally looking down. “Can I finally taste you, sweetheart? Is that okay with you? You just look so beautiful I’m dying to get a taste.”

You nodded, and he smiled up at you. He kissed your thigh, making sure to keep eye contact with you. All you could focus on was each other––the whole world drowned out around the both of you. He slowly, teasingly made his way up to your inner thigh, then skipping his way over to the other thigh, still looking at you while doing so. 

He nipped your skin softly and you gasped at the feeling. You reached your hands down and placed them on his own, and he clasped your hands together before holding your waist down with his arms. He leaned in and licked along your slit. You weren’t sure what to expect, but with all the teasing and build up, just the slightest touch felt great. 

He curved his tongue up and down along your folds, soon leaving open mouthed kisses on your lips. You sighed contently and he hummed into your heat, only adding to your pleasure. 

Tom had picked up on your reaction to his praise, so he made sure to use it to his advantage, to make this as enjoyable for you as can be. 

“Y’taste so fucking good baby,” he mumbled in between his kisses and licks. You whimpered, your back arching, hips straining under his hold. “Meant it when I said I would taste you for hours. But I know you have other plans for today, so I’ll leave that for some other day.” 

He slid a finger into you and you let out a sound you couldn’t even describe if you wanted to, all you know is that it caused Tom to quicken his pace and tighten his hold on you. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head but a squeeze of your hand brought your attention to the boy between your legs. “Eyes on me, love.” You nodded enthusiastically and he smirked at your increased eagerness. 

He started paying extra attention to your clit, lapping at it before sucking it harshly, and sliding another finger into your heat. He curved them at just the right spot and soon enough you felt yourself reaching your peak. Your eyes fluttered shut, your mouth dropped open and your thighs tightened around Tom’s head. 

When you came to and finally opened your eyes, Tom was leaving kisses around your heat, his hands no longer in yours but caressing all the skin he could touch.

“Such a good girl for me.” 

You moaned involuntarily and he chuckled at your reaction, his hands still rubbing your skin soothingly as you were still slightly shaking from your orgasm.

“How was that princess?” He smirked, knowing damn well it was mind-blowing.

You rolled your eyes, unable to wipe the smile off of your face, “Get up here and kiss me, Holland.” 

He was quick to scramble up and meet your lips with his and your hand found it’s place in his curls. You easily got lost in each other, and you could taste yourself on his lips and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t turn you on even more. 

Just as Tom slipped his tongue into your mouth, one of his hands slipped down to find your clit. You whined into the kiss, still a bit sensitive from your high. 

He pulled away to look at you, biting his lip. “Just one more, love.” He pressed his head against yours as you panted at the feeling of his fingers expertly handling your bundle of nerves. “Need at least one more to make sure you’re ready for my cock.”

You audibly groaned at his words and he slid his two fingers back in you, twisting them and curling them just right before adding another finger and stretching you open. 

Once his thumb reached up to rub at your clit––you were seeing stars. Your hand dropped down, your body going limp. Tom kissed your cheeks softly, coaxing you down. 

Once you opened your eyes again, Tom asked, “are you still up for more?”

You couldn’t have nodded more eagerly. 

He positioned himself between your legs and you noticed his throbbing member standing tall. You could tell he actually enjoyed pleasuring you––How could he get any more perfect? 

He stroked his member a few times, cursing under his breath and dropping his head back after finally paying attention to his neglected member––not that he was complaining. You swear your mouth practically watered at the sight. When he regained his composure, he looked at you, checking if you were still alright then down to your center. 

He swiped his member through your folds and hissed, “Holy shit you’re so wet, love.” He licked his lips, rubbing your clit with his tip, making you arch your back. “Gonna be so warm and tight for me.” His thumb was rubbing circles on your inner thigh, trying to calm any nerves you might have.

He rubbed your wetness all around your pussy, on your clit––the slightest touch had you jolting. But you needed more. 

“Tommy,” he perked up at the new nickname. To be honest, you had been saving it for when the two of you were intimate––you felt that it was too personal to be said otherwise. “I need more, baby. Need you.”

His eyes widened and his heart rate quickened, “Of course, darling.” He pressed his tip into your entrance and your breath hitched. “Breathe for me, love. Need you to relax.” 

You nodded and tried to even out your breathing, sink into the sheets so you could be ready for him. He slowly pushed his way in a little further, waiting for you to let him know when he could move. 

You felt like it was taking you forever to adjust, was it annoying or frustrating for him? It was for you, that’s for sure. After beating yourself up in your head for a moment you spoke up, “I’m sorry this is taking so long, Tom. I––I don’t know what to do...”

His brows furrowed, “Hey hey, no no no, this isn’t something you have to be sorry for, this is completely natural, love.” He leaned down to kiss your forehead, careful not to move down there. “I will wait as long as you need, I promise.”

You smiled, but he could tell you were still worried. He brought his thumb to your clit and started rubbing it slowly, spreading your wetness and you felt yourself start to melt in the sheets. He leaned forward, resting his weight on one hand near your head, while the other held his member. 

He left wet kisses on your neck, leaving marks where he could reach. “Feel so good for me already, you know that? You’re so snug and tight, s’like your pussy was made for my cock.” He looked into your eyes “You’re mine.”

Your walls clenched around him and he almost choked on his breath. Your hands grasped his shoulders, and your legs wrapped around his waist, pushing him further inside you. “God love––you’ll be the death of me I swear.” 

You were almost there, almost completely filled and you were so eager to get there. Tom could tell you were yearning for it. He looked at you before leaning down to swirl his tongue around your nipple before sucking on it and you groaned loudly. “Fuck Tommy––”

“That’s what I like to hear, baby,” he switched to your other breast, making sure to pay equal attention to both. From the stimulation on your nipples and your clit, you loosened up a bit more and pulled Tom in all the way. He popped off of your chest to look at you, mouth hung open in shock. He caught his breath after a moment, “Feels so good––”

It took you a few more minutes, but soon you were ready for him to move. And once he did, you felt better than you thought you would. “Please don’t stop, Tommy.” You whispered in his ear and he growled and dropped his head into the crook your neck where he began leaving wet kisses as he thrusted faster. 

“This pussy feels like heaven, I swear,” he muttered half to himself. 

Between the feeling of his lips, his hand and his cock––you felt yourself get close rather quickly, in your opinion. “I’m gonna come, baby.” You looked up at him as he pulled away from your neck to look down at you. He leaned his forehead against yours, the both of you panting at the overwhelming feeling of pleasure. 

“Yeah, darling?” You nodded helplessly. “I’m close too––as soon as I pushed myself in that tight little pussy of yours it was practically coaxing me to the edge. 

He started pounding you faster, constantly checking to see if you were okay with the pace and the feeling. Your eyes rolled back and your back arched for who knows what time that night. “Oh my god Tom––”

“That’s it babygirl––fuck.” 

He was about to pull out when you held him in place, “I’m on the pill, Tommy.” He looked into your eyes, trying to figure out if you were really telling him what he was thinking or if he was just clouded by the pleasure you were giving him. “You can come inside me, baby. I want you to. ”

He came almost instantly, if it wasn’t obvious that you found it incredibly hot, he would have found it almost pathetic. A couple more thrusts and he emptied himself out inside of you. You sighed contently and bit your lip, trying to contain your beaming smile as you looked up at him and the fucked out look on his face––beyond happy that you were the reason that it was there. 

“You, my love, are the best thing that’s ever and will ever happen to me.” You felt your eyes tear up a bit at his confession but before you could say anything––not that you even know what you could have said, he pulled out of you and watched the cum drip out of your hole before taking his cock and thrusting it back into you, “Don’t want it to slip out just yet. Y’look so pretty full of my come, you know that?” He nuzzled his nose into your cheek. 

You swear only Tom could make a moment both incredibly dirty yet touching. He was yours. Your perfect boy. 

––––––––––––––

taglist: 

@rmillerartemis​ @hollandmcu​ @buckyliciouss​ @tiny-friggin-human​ @tomshufflepuff​ @amagicalpieceofshit​ @peachllobotomy​ @delicately-written​ @parkersvibes​ @musiclover1263​ @undiadeestos​ @fanficscuziranout​

[blahkugo]

Congrats for the 1k!! Wdyt ab hawks in an underground scenario?

thanks anon baby!! i love writing for hawks in general and this au was soooooo much fun to explore!! ♡ i honestly went a little crazy with it & added too much rumi in there lmao

                                  -ˋˏ ༻ 光 ༺ ˎˊ-

「TAKAMI KEIGO / HAWKS」

— underground! au (feat. rumi)

— warnings: 18+, smut, drugs / alcohol mention, kind of scumbag hawks

⤏ keigo’s very devious, in the sense that he can be both the star of everyone’s show and a sneaky bastard. he’s a double agent in the truest definition of the word, and it’s no different in an underground au

⤏ ‘heaven’ is the place to get into; no, no, not god’s pearly white gates, but rather the giant underground nightclub teeming with bar hoppers and thrill seekers on a saturday night.

⤏ the highly illegal establishment is run by none other than keigo takami himself, the eccentric club owner that people only know by name

⤏ no one’s ever actually seen keigo at his own club, nobody even knows what he looks like

⤏ so, rumors fly amongst the regular patrons; some say he’s a cartel boss, others a crooked cop

⤏ a choice few believe that he’s the devil himself. and in his jealousy of god’s perfect eden, he crafted his own slice of heaven, where restraint and inhibition are words with absolutely no meaning

⤏ the reality isn’t far off, if we’re being honest

⤏ ‘heaven’ is keigo’s personal playground, a place where he can be anybody he wants to

⤏ typically, that anybody is pulling pretty little whores into the giant vip room, and pumping them chock full of his favorite pills: angel dust

⤏ when his own high kicks in, the fun begins. and at that point, even keigo thinks he may be the devil incarnate

“Tsk, tsk,” Keigo wags a slender finger in front of your face, snatching the pretty little capsule from your hand. 

Quick, pounding percussion still pulses at your ears, though the VIP room is much quieter than the club floor— cooler as well. Without the mass of compressed, sweaty bodies dancing and grinding, you feel a bit over exposed in your two piece set. For a second, you have the urge to cover your midriff, but the angel in front of you sweeps your attention yet again. 

“How do good girls ask for pills?” He’s teasing you, has been since the moment he approached you spouting some nonsense about being the club owner. While you were initially adamant in your disbelief, only agreeing to follow him for his tempting promise of ‘proper drugs,’ the extravagance of the VIP room sways your opinion now. 

Also, the man swims in luxury, seems to be bathed in an ethereal glow that screams money from the tips of his perfectly tousled hair down to the Givenchy trainers on his feet. The richest men always dress in subtleties; you just have to know where to look. 

Your assumptions were confirmed when he ordered top shelf booze. They were absolutely set in stone when Rumi, the Playboy Bunny turned supermodel, settled into the booth next to him and plopped a kiss on his cheek. 

“The sick bastard will really only give it to you if you say pretty please,” the gorgeous woman chuckles, looking every bit as intimidating as she does on the runways. “Like this,” she clasps her hands together— fingernails sporting a fierce, red manicure— and turns towards the smug blonde. “Please Keigo, a pill.” 

It’s unclear whether her tone is sincere, sickly sweet words dripping with mockery and faux praise. Either way, you refuse to be the butt of their jokes. Begging for drugs? Over your dead body. 

Keigo must feel your hesitation, must sense the subtle shift in your body language, because his eyebrows narrow for a fraction of a second before quickly regaining their place far atop his forehead— practiced nonchalance, seemingly perfected over years.  

He hands the pill to Rumi, and then another, pushing his slender fingers into hers without breaking your mutual gaze.

“Oops,” he feigns apology, “looks like I gave two pills to Rumi.” He slants a quick look at the platinum blonde. “You can just take one from her, sweetheart.” 

When you break your glare to peek at the beautiful woman next to him, she’s giggling. The sound is practically silent, a twinkly little thing that barely reaches your ears and doesn’t rumble through her entirety like laughter truly should. 

“Silly me,” she smirks, piercing eyes scanning over you now, “I didn’t realize.” Though you’re sure the night can’t get any stranger, she lets her tongue loll from between supple lips, painted bright red to match her nails. Low and behold, there are two pills, both dangling enticingly on her curved tongue.

“Aw,” Keigo coos, pout brimming with ridicule. Though you attempt to speak up, entirely fed up with this humiliating charade, he doesn’t miss a beat. “She can still have one though, can’t she Rumi?” 

She simply nods, swaying her tongue once more before curling it back into her mouth. He can’t mean— no, he wouldn’t. But the pair simply stares at you, famishment gleaming in their eyes like a pair of ravenous wolves. 

He wants you to kiss her. 

Every one of your nerves stands on end, willing you with a passion to reject his slimy offer. You’re not a Barbie doll for him to play with, to dress and undress and buy off with a bright pink mansion to boot. 

But then again, the pros do vastly outweigh the cons. When’s the next time you’re going to have the chance to kiss a supermodel? And with someone as beautiful as Keigo watching? You take a deep breath, standing up and bracing your arms against the table to lean over. 

And then, you are kissing her. 

Rumi’s lips taste like whiskey sour and a spice that you can’t quite place. She’s quick to take control, cupping your jaw with slender fingers and nipping at your lip. There’s a slight twinge of pain before each swipe of her tongue across your lip, and it’s a miracle that she keeps the pills nestled under her tongue; she kisses you with such passion, such dizzying ferocity, that you feel your head spin. It’s definitely not the alcohol. 

When her lips bite again, more aggressive this time, you part your own in a low, teasing groan. She swings a knee over the table— pushes closer, pulls you further into her. You’re losing your breath, unable to keep up, but she simply continues her onslaught, as though you’ve stolen her last breath and she’s aching to get it back. 

Only when her tongue slinks across the back of your teeth and makes its home between them, does she offer up the pill from under the wet muscle. 

With a parting smile against your mouth, she pulls away. 

“Hope you like that pill as much as you did the kiss,” she speaks, lips, puffy but still perfectly painted, inches from your own. She stays put, watching the strand of drool still connecting the two of you. 

You wish you could say something, anything, to the goddess of a woman, but you’re left in a haze. If it isn’t for the subtle tap against your throat, you’d forget to swallow the pill you worked so diligently for. As she finally recedes, you make a mental note for later: world-renowned supermodel Rumi smells like cinnamon. 

“Bunny got your tongue?” Keigo chuckles, now standing next to your side of the booth, and slithering a lithe hand across your lower back. You’d almost forgotten the smug bastard was there, but one glance his way and you remember where you are: a public space. 

Sure, the VIP lounge is practically empty, save for a few stragglers here and there, but those people are presumably A-listers. And they just watched you make out with a woman all for drugs and the entertainment of a very wealthy man. 

Still, it probably isn’t the worst image they’ve ever seen. 

Rumi gives you another once over, baring sharp canines that seem to sparkle beneath the low, purple lights. Even after your intimate moment, she somehow seems more intimidating— or perhaps, more ravenous. She makes some comment to Keigo about giving you her number, throws a wink your way, and ends the encounter with another quick peck on his cheek. 

Then, with hips swaying seductively to the beat, she makes her descent down the stairs to join the thrall of bodies as her high hits, leaving you and the blonde alone. Chancing a glance his way, you decide that’s not a terrible thing. 

That same pompous smirk is plastered across his face, that same insatiable look in his eyes. His blonde locks remain in a state of perfect dishevelment, and when he runs a hand through it, his jewelry— rings upon rings and a watch that probably costs more than your rent— catches the light, shimmering wildly. 

“We’re going to peak soon.”

It’s all he says, before leading you towards the stairs and down, down, down— straight into Heaven. 

-

Wisps of baby pink, streams of bright blue— cotton candy fills the air and washes the man in front of you in a delectable light. It begs you to take a bite, to do more than press your warm, wanton body against him. 

“How do you feel?” Keigo’s teeth graze the shell of your ear, hot breath tickling the side of your face. With his arms wrapped around your waist, he envelops you fully, allowing you to grind and move as you please. The heat radiating off your bodies could rival the sun. 

“Like I’m flying,” you throw your hands into the air; he grazes them with his own. Every touch sends a cacophony of sparks across your flesh, every murmur of praise a chilling tingle down your spine. And when he strains his hips against yours, it heats you further, all throughout your core. You need him— right here, right now, bathed in candied pinks and sugar-filled blues.  

As though he can hear your thoughts, or perhaps you’ve said them aloud, his slender fingers slither further down your body. Down, down, down— dashing under your tight skirt to rub across your soaked slit. When you cry out, a symphony of desire, he simply presses harder, rubs faster. 

Just as you’re about to see stars, to grab at the spun sugar surrounding you and take an overwhelming chomp, he removes his magic fingers. You’re aware you’re crying out, feel as though the entire world’s been ripped away from you, but he simply shushes you with a slick digit against your lips.

“Let’s take this back upstairs, yeah?” The devil pokes at your side. 

You’re already being whisked away, deeper into paradise. 

                          ᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ 光 ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

[springfieldblues]

my long ass review for S32E03 Now Museum, Now You Don’t

warning: LONG because i rambled about history more than i thought i would

id been looking forward to this one because i like art history, especially after seeing how they tried their best to stick to historical accuracy in the previous episode I, Carumbus. this time however….they didnt try that hard. i dont know why i thought theyd go through that sort of trouble again LMAO

but its okay, i dont really expect the simpsons to be the paragon of historical accuracy or anything. especially in anthology episodes told through a particular character's lens (in this case, lisa, whos already feverish so whatever)

first i just wanna say that this is, i guess, less of a review and more of an accidental list of history fun facts. so im just gonna get my general thoughts out of the way first.

the episode was fun! to me at least haha. i mean it got me to think and do a lot of research on my own so that must count for something. besides a couple of really weird ones, the jokes were good. anthology episodes tend to be….not that good but i thought this one was one of the better ones so far. idk.

anyway on to lisanardo da vinky its the renaissance! jesus christ the italian accents in the beginning of this segment were annoying as hell but i also feel like that was the joke lmao. ill be real i kind of tuned out for a second there when grampa started rambling so idk what he said.

i told myself i wouldnt get nitpicky with historical accuracy if the jokes were funny (final edit: so that was a lie) but this meh bit with the pizza guys and mascots was really not worth ignoring the fact that its impossible for italy to have any tomato-based food in the 15th century (tomatoes were brought to europe from the americas in the 16th century, and pizza as we know it today—flatbread, cheese, tomato—originated in the late 18th century)

oh this next part was kind of legit tho. lisanardo, like the real leonardo, became andrea del verrochio's apprentice at his workshop. i loved this next bit:

"Whoever paints the sweetest cherub will have the honor of having MY name signed on their work. That's what great artists do!"

SO YEAH as it turns out, lisanardo painted the sweetest cherubs. the painting here is called The Baptism of Christ, and the real leonardo assisted verrochio in finishing it. specifically, he painted the cherubs in the corner.

this causes verrochio to quit and go someplace with less talented people: a music school (yes, verrochio did quit painting after getting owned by young leo and his mad angel painting skills. he never did anything with music tho, he was more of a sculptor)

alongside lisanardo, in mr largo-verrochio's workshop we have barticelli (botticelli bart), dolphatello (donatello dolph), ralphael (raphael...ralph) and mediocrito (no one that i know of. sorry milhouse) (and kearney i guess but they dont refer to him by name). botticelli and donatello are said to have also been apprentices at verrochio's workshop, but raphael came a couple of decades later so he couldnt have been there. and donatello was too old so that claim is a bit questionable. but anyway

it IS true that leonardo's peers envied him, to the point where he was anonymously and purposefully accused of being gay (a major crime punishable by death in 15th century florence) while he was still working at verrochio's workshop

we are then treated by what im pretty sure is the fourth time the show has used 'at seventeen' by janis ian, this time sung by a dejected lisanardo (man they really do keep making yeardley sing these days huh) who only wishes to be appreciated and not envied.

"I'll show them all! I'll show them all in a secret diary that no one will decipher for 400 years!"

some of lisanardo's future inventions. who wouldve known

so after barticelli, for some reason (revenge??? or something?? what was his plan here idgi) steals lisanardo's diaries full of blueprints of her inventions and takes them to mr burns who i have to assume is pope alexander VI here, they decide to use her inventions for war.

"With these, we can kill the most evil people in the world!! ....Slightly different Christians."

leo actually did this of his own accord. im surprised this is what they decided to do with lisanardo instead of talking about leo's love of nature and vegetarianism (not a single mention of that in this episode? come on...) then again, trying to do good only to end up indirectly making things worse is a very standard lisa storyline. i guess they didnt want to miss the chance to have evil pope burns (very fitting, especially for that era since they were all about money and controlling the people)

so lisanardo decides to leave for france, unlike the real leonardo who was more or less persuaded by his ultimate fanboy king francis I to move to france.

"Lisanardo, I have many questions. Why are you hitting yourself? A nerd says 'what'? And how is it possible that I am rubber and you are glue? Et cetera, et cetera."

that line may seem a little random, like hes just nelson saying nelson things (and i mean, obviously he is) but the real francis also "had an unquenchable thirst for learning, and Leonardo was the world’s best source of experimental knowledge. He could teach the king about almost any subject there was to know, from how the eye works to why the moon shines." so yeah, he did have many questions and lisanardo, finally being appreciated for her intellect, was happy to answer them all. its very interesting how lisa assigned this role to nelson in her retelling of da vinci’s life :^)

and so she lived the rest of her days in france, nat king cole's 'mona lisa' plays because duh, and they make a da vinci code reference because duh. and the segment ends. and not a single time did they show the actual mona lisa painting. the fuck?

(ngl i was fully expecting bart to say 'leonardo da vinky' for a second here)

so this next segment is about french impressionist painters, most likely the batignolles group, a name adopted by the early representatives of impressionism. its much more vague than the lisanardo segment since no one here is referred to by name (except moe, more on him in a sec) but i dont feel like it really matters in this case. bart is prrrrooobably claude monet but its hard to say, this segment is kind of a mish-mash of a lot of things. also i gotta say i really liked how lisa introduced the story to bart with an 'if you hate the formal study of art' and not 'if you hate art' because thats exactly my headcanon. i LOVE the concept of artist bart and whenever its referenced it just makes perfect sense to me.

anyway the segment opens in 1863 at the école des beaux-arts (back then it was actually known as the académie des beaux-arts), preserver of traditional french art styles. skinner reviews his students’ paintings one by one. praises the plain, unimaginative paintings depicting your typical european countryside landscapes. very run-of-the-mill (haha get it...cuz theres….a windmill) (although the real académie didnt approve of such basic stuff, they wanted artists to draw epic historical and mythological scenes) then he gets to barts painting and he gives him an F- because the painting made him think.

(the paintings in this scene arent real famous paintings as far as i know but they are inspired by real paintings enough to get the point across)

in comes barney dressed as bacchus as a model for the students to sketch, which i just loved:

barney: “You prefer robe open or robe off?” skinner: “Just cover your privates with this walnut shell.” barney: “Whoa!!! So roomy!”

skinner gasps in horror at bart’s sketch, which “looks nothing like him” and bart explains that “it shouldn’t; we’re making the art that we feel because we can’t compete with a camera.” damn, you go bart. take that, realism. draw what you feel!!

(also no, you didnt need to hold still for 17 hours for a daguerreotype. 30 min tops.)

nelson haw-haw of the week: FOIE-gras!

so here they are at the moulin rouge (“enjoy it before baz luhrmann ruins it” hey shut up. i love that movie), which wouldnt be built for another 26 years, but it is the most widely known gathering place for bohemians in the public consciousness so i can understand why they went with the moulin. nelson delivers this anachronistic line:

“This époque keeps getting beller and beller!”

which alludes to la belle époque, the golden age of france usually dated from 1880 to 1914. made me snort so ill let that slide

and heres moe! as henri de toulouse-lautrec, who was actually born a year after the year this segment is set in. yo moe szyslak he was just 1

toulouse-moetrec introduces himself as the chronicler of the demimonde (not an actual job). an iconic figure associated with the moulin rouge (largely due to his affinity for alcohol and prostitutes), toulouse-lautrec was also a painter, having illustrated a series of posters for the moulin himself. he simply had to be in this segment, anachronisms be damned, just because they decided to include the moulin. cant have one without the other.

and yes he did have a walking cane where he kept his liquor.

i love how everyone drinks absinthe in this place. theyre bohemians what else would they drink

toulouse-moetrec points out that barts paintings are the greatest thing hes ever seen (and hes seen like five things!) and that hes a genius. milhouse realizes that they should stop doing what the teacher says and use their own minds to instead...start doing what bart says lmao. to the easels!

next we have skinner hyping up chalmers about the art his students made for the salon de paris, an art exhibition that the emperor of france will attend. he assures him that none of these paintings will encourage debate, provoke thought or be out of place at a dentist’s office. when they unveil the art, theyre both SHOCKED at how scandalous the paintings actually are.

this reaction was kind of accurate. impressionism was severely rejected at the salon de paris, due to paintings not looking finished enough to them, they thought they were ugly and vulgar for depicting nudity in a contemporary setting (historical and mythological nudity was fine). these impressionist paintings were sent to the salon de refusés, which is. yeah. the place where they sent the rejects. the salon de refusés does not make an appearance but this scene makes a reference to it when the artists get expelled from the royal salon. also:

“What about our student loans?” “Oh they’ll be refunded. We are not barbarians, I mean, come on.”

(god if only)

so the painters are down because they want the emperor to actually see their paintings. toulouse-moetrec pipes in once again with an idea.

“There is one thing the emperor loves more than anything.” “France?” “No, he hates France.”

apparently the emperor really loves cheese, which makes sense since its napoleon III (who loved cheese) and homer (who loves cheese.) so the painters roll into the salon inside a giant wheel of cheese (obviously.) as lenny said, “Eh, you know French cheese. Very runny.” napoleon III chases after the wheel into a room, where the wheel falls apart after getting chomped on by the emperor. now that they got his attention, the painters proudly show the emperor their impressionist art, which he couldnt be more indifferent about because he just wants to eat his cheese dammit, and he awards them with the royal medallion just to kind of get them out of his way. skinner immediately starts kissing ass (as he does) until marge’s like ‘hey wait a minute. you expelled these students from the royal salon’ and an executioner immediately starts ominously measuring skinners neck.

“Uh, sir...is your tongue sticking out because you’re dead or because you’re mad at me?”

and thats the end of that lmao (gore in this episode, gore in the last episode, and next week we’re getting gore too cuz its THOH, what the hell is goin on)

we get a short intermission with maggie, who wants a story for her too! lisa tells her that renaissance artists loved to put babies in their paintings, especially baby angels.

here she is showing her The Triumph Of Galatea by raphael:

King David Playing The Harp by peter paul reubens:

and a very simplified version of pretty much any depiction of hell by hyeronimus bosch lmao:

not much else to say about this one, really. but i really liked that sky!

the last segment is about frida kahlo and diego rivera. or as bart puts it ‘the one about a fat guy whos wife is too good for him.’ i was REALLY looking forward to this one because i love frida and i thought itd be a cool opportunity for animators to go bonkers and do really cool shit with her art as inspiration…..but the segment is not about frida, its about diego and his selling out to capitalism. and its also yet another story with homer and marge drama. no funky cool animation here. sigh i guess i’ll take it

the story begins in 1929 at la casa azul, frida’s home (now museum dedicated to her life and work.) frida and diego are getting married. this courtyard definitely did not look this way yet back in 1929. also theres something very cringy yet funny about lovejoy saying spanish words the way he does, i honestly cant decide how i feel about that one

the writers know theyre being cringy with their gringoness so they go along with it.

moe: “Spanish for ‘best wishes’!” mel: “Spanish for ‘congratulations’!” bumblebee man: “Spanish for ‘muy bueno’!”

OH YEAH BUMBLEBEE MAN this is his new voice actor, eric lopez! hes not mexican but its still great to finally have a latino actor voicing a latino character and hes very excited to be part of the show so i hope to hear more of him!! im rooting for him

el barto/zorro makes an appearance which i am very confused about. he has jack shit to do with frida and diego and mexico in the 20s-30s. el zorro was set in the spanish california of the early 19th century. their use of the original theme song makes me think they just wanted to flex their disney privileges tbh

lets not talk about that that whole scene was bad

anyway diego announces he and frida are going to new york, without even asking her first. frida is obviously pissed.

“Don’t worry, as a woman, you’ll be treated with much more respect in America.”

so in new york, diego is having a bit of a business meeting with mr burns as one of the members of the rockefellers, who is commissioning him to draw a mural for the rockefeller center. its kinda funny how he refers to him and frida as socialists even though they were very much communists lmao its okay you can say it. ok so far, but then frida says ‘yes, we hate the capitalists! right now, a young socialist is being born who will take them down! mr. bernie sanders. i hope hes quick about it’ and that was a simple enough joke and couldve been left at that but then its immediately followed by this weird as fuck family guy-esque cutaway gag to bernie as a baby:

“Getting a cootie shot should not cost your lunch money. And if you don’t listen to me, listen to the Bernie Babies! What? Everybody’s got goons.” *larger babies start beating up this other baby* “I disavow that, and welcome it.”

this confused me so much that i had to ask one of my american friends to help me understand, but even she was like ‘uhhh yeah thats a weird joke,’ especially now that hes been out of the race for months (then again these episodes take almost a year to produce. i guess they couldnt be bothered to replace it with something more relevant.) whatever that was weird and confusing and unfunny moving on

frida is pretty irked that diego is going through with this deal. after all, it goes against everything they believe in. im not sure how the real frida felt about diego doing the mural, but she did feel a bit of rage during her visit to the united states, especially the obvious disparity between rich and poor. she hated having to interact with capitalists and found americans very boring. in this segment, frida seems to be acting more like the american communist party, which diego got kicked out of for accepting commissions from wealthy patrons. in any case, frida is pretty upset about this whole thing.

and finally we get the first and only kind of surreal frida moment. kinda. maybe. its more cartoonish than anything but im desperate ok

interesting how they felt like they had to add a “don’t smoke” in big letters after showing patty and selma flying away on their giant cigarettes. i wonder if this is something theyre making them do now? i remember hearing something about them toning down patty and selma’s smoking

diego comes home to frida, drunk as hell, followed by the marx brothers. i cant believe they didnt make a marxism joke come on it was RIGHT THERE. THE MARX BROTHERS. KARL MARX. COME ON

frida paints her feelings.

this makes diego realize that frida is a genius and he is not half the artist she is. he proclaims he will now show his awe of her by sleeping with other women, starting “an hour ago.” to which frida replies, “and i will start sleeping with other women, starting two hours ago.” yes this was pretty much their relationship. though im just wondering how the hell did diego not know frida was this kind of artist until now? i know homers an idiot but jeez. art was how frida and diego met, diego knew from the get-go that frida was an incredible artist. i guess the fame got to his head or something. again, homer just being stupid.

“well enough already, while the art is still deco, okay?”

its time for the mural diego painted, Man At The Crossroads, to be unveiled:

rockefeller examines it. good and great so far, and then...uh oh

“Who’s that fellow…? With the beard, and the bolshevik smile…” “That’s the founder of Soviet Russia, Lenin!”

“B-b-but he’s a communist!” “Oh he just attended a couple of meetings.”

rockefeller will not have this communist in the temple to capitalism that is the rockefeller center, so he orders diego to paint over it. diego stands his ground and refuses. despite rockefeller’s threats, diego says that theres only one person he wants to be proud of him no matter what and in true homer & marge fashion, frida is touched by this. they happily leave the rockefeller center.

now, the real story of Man At The Crossroads and the rockefeller center was actually not that different. as soon as the rockefellers found out diego had snuck in a portrait of lenin into the mural, they ordered him to paint over it, to which he refused. diego even offered to include abraham lincoln and even american abolitionists in the mural as a compromise, but the rockefellers simply did not want any references to communism whatsoever. they did not complain about the hammer and sickle, though. yes, they did know diego was a communist and hired him anyway. what did they expect? lmao. diego said:

"Rather than mutilate the conception [of the mural], I shall prefer the physical destruction of the conception in its entirety, but preserving, at least, its integrity."

so they decided to destroy the mural before it was even finished and they never talked to each other again.

diego then repainted the mural at the palacio de bellas artes back in mexico, this time known as Man, Controller of the Universe. this new version included even more communist leaders and a depiction of john d. rockefeller jr. drinking at a nightclub, right underneath a depiction of syphilis bacteria. cue nelson haw-haw:

this was the version they used in the episode also, since the original was, well, never finished and also destroyed. only a black and white photograph of it exists, taken by diego before it was destroyed so he could remake it.

right so, homer!diego then pulls a Barthood and finishes the episode with a large mural summarizing the entire episode. he says some rick and morty thing i didnt get because i dont watch the show idk idc

the end

ALRIGHT NOW ITS TIME FOR THE STORY OF VINCENT VAN MOE

[artificialqueens]

Everybody Knows You're High, 2/4 (Rajila) - Dartmouth420

“And on the deck while I waited for her to get dressed, I sparked up another one and I was such a mess that I confess that my professor wouldn’t look me in the eye…”

Summary: Raja has a great time at her philosophy class this week, Manila strategically turns the whole situation into a joke, but their attempts to one-up each other go a little too far…

A/N: this chapter is dedicated to the term ‘making out,’ and how vague and ridiculous it is lmao. thank you V&albatross for the shoutout!

tw: weed

Raja forgot that it was a Tuesday and smoked a huge blunt just after noon, before remembering that she had to leave for class in fifteen minutes. Uh oh.

But luckily Professor A. O’Hara’s philosophy class was a lecture and that meant Raja didn’t need to participate, she could just sit in the low-lit room, stare at the slides and let the words wash over her. Which was totally doable while high. Also, Manila was in that class, so Raja didn’t want to skip it.

Pleasantly hazy, Raja threw an open button-up shirt over her tank top, wandered over to Manila’s house a few doors down and knocked on the door.

Manila answered, her face pink and sweaty, her fantastic legs clad in neon green leggings.

“I just got back from the gym,” said Manila, “I still need to change, just give me a sec-“

“Sure,” said Raja, leaning casually against the porch railing. Manila looked pretty cute, all warm and sweaty like that. Raja reached into her front pocket and found a tiny little joint she must have forgotten in there the last time she’d worn this shirt.

Well, she was already high, so why the hell not? Raja sighed happily, thanking whatever deities had decided to smile upon her today as she fished her lighter out of her shorts, and lit up.

Manila came back out a few minutes later, in a neat little corduroy skirt that hugged her hips, shirt tucked in, and said, “Oh my god, are you getting high right now?”

“Yeah,” replied Raja, happy and content, “I forgot it was Tuesday and started earlier, figured I may as well lean in, right?”

Manila rolled her eyes and shook her head, then locked the door.

They walked together to campus in the warm sun, and Raja began to feel soft, even a little loopy, like she needed to slow down…

“Hurry up, we’re going to be late,” urged Manila, walking ahead of her.

“Nah, just slow down a bit,” murmured Raja in response. The sun was catching in Manila’s hair again, the black curls shining with an almost reddish-orange highlight.

“Are you related to any gingers?” asked Raja, blithely.

“Uh, my uncle on my mom’s side,” replied Manila, “And so is one of my cousins. Why?”

“Your hair has this kinda red highlight in the sun…”

Manila laughed and it was a happy sound that Raja quite liked. But then Manila went behind Raja and pushed her, her hands on Raja’s back as she hustled her rapidly down the sidewalk, which Raja liked a little less. They finally got into the building and managed to make it to class with only seconds to spare.

Raja entered the dark room, supremely comfortable and chill, and took her usual seat. Manila sat next to her, taking out her neat little notebook and pen to take notes. She was so organized, Raja admired that about her.

Professor O’Hara greeted the class and hit the lights to begin the lecture. Raja smiled and nodded and basked in the weird glow of the PowerPoint while Manila diligently took notes next to her. The words washed over them both.

After the lecture was done and the lights turned back on, Professor O’Hara took questions from the class. Raja found she had a question too, and raised her hand.

“Don’t draw attention to yourself-“ hissed Manila next to her, trying to grab Raja’s hand and force it back down.

But Professor O’Hara has already addressed her, so Raja batted Manila off and opened her mouth.

“Uh, so…” began Raja, leaning forward and putting her chin in her hand, pausing for what she was sure was only a couple seconds. An amused murmur rippled through the crowd. “So, when Plato talks about you know, duality, what if-“

Raja wasn’t sure where she was going with her question, but she was confident it was going somewhere, and kept talking. Professor O’Hara had an amused expression on her face, and pressed her lips together, not quite making eye contact. Next to Raja, Manila slid lower in her seat and shielded her eyes with her hand.

“…so like, isn’t that connected to Aristotle’s original idea about being?” finished Raja.

Muffled laughter sounded throughout the class. What was so funny?

Professor O’Hara blinked, and cocked her head to the side, then said, “Well, to everyone’s surprise that’s actually an excellent question, Raja-“ and proceeded to answer it.

Raja glowed with the praise, nodding her head slowly as Professor O’Hara answered her question, and further elaborated on the content of the lecture, which inspired more questions from the class. Raja remained pleasantly blazed. Coming to class like this had been a great idea after all-

Soon enough it was over, and Raja yawned, sleepy, and stretched as Manila put her things back in her bag.

“Raja,” said Manila with resignation, hoisting her backpack to her shoulder, while the rest of the class filed out around them, throwing amused glances in Raja’s direction, “Everybody knows you’re high.”

“Mmm…” replied Raja, content, getting up from her seat and tripping a little on the edge of the chair, “Yeah, this time I don’t care.”

-

The problem with Raja, considered Manila as they walked back down the street together after class and Raja prattled away, happy and stoned, was that from the day they’d met Manila wanted throw her against the wall, furiously make out with her, have insanely hot sex in every imaginable way, move in together, start their lives, be completely and utterly in love, have like four kids and three dogs, raise them, retire, get old, and die together. 

Obviously that was a little much. 

Manila had quickly learned that her desperate fantasy seemed to be the exact opposite of what Raja was looking for. Raja’s priorities seemed to consist of getting stoned, getting laid, playing video games and going to class. Apparently in that order. So, they became good friends instead, along with Delta and Carmen, and had an excellent friendship that involved terrible humour, petty competition, and affectionately roasting one another to death. Given that Raja had never shown any romantic interest in her, Manila did her best to shove her feelings to the back of her mind. She wasn’t going to ruin a great friendship with her idiotic feelings, god forbid!

So, not that Raja randomly asking her to make out the other day had thrown Manila’s world off its axis anything, just… ugh.

They kept walking, and Raja kept talking to herself. Admittedly, she was making some great points about Plato.

“Carmen’s kinda mad at you, by the way,” said Raja, turning to her. Her deep brown eyes were a little bloodshot, but still shockingly intense and beautiful.

“Why?” asked Manila, glancing at the blue, open sky instead. It was a lovely day.

“‘Cause you unlocked metallic Peach the other day. She wanted to unlock metallic Peach.”

“Tell her the day she beats me at literally one round of Smash Bros is the day I’ll stop unlocking stuff for her,” said Manila.

“This is just as bad as the Mario Kart Incident last April,” said Raja, who was still looking at her, and then added, in an apparent non-sequitur, “Hey, has anyone ever told you you’re like really pretty?”

“Yeah, my mom,” replied Manila sarcastically, but her heart beat a little faster with the compliment.

“No, come on!” replied Raja, with a blissed-out expression and a goofy smile, “You are, though. Your hair is like so nice-“

Manila didn’t know what to say. Getting this kind of attention from Raja wasn’t something she’d anticipated happening, it was making her feel vulnerable and a little turned on, and she wanted to believe that it meant something… but doubt congealed in her stomach. It didn’t mean anything beyond a casual, well-intentioned, platonic expression of attraction. This was just how Raja was.

“Shut up!” laughed Manila semi-hysterically, impulsively pushing Raja in response. Raja was stoned and off-balance enough that she tripped and fell into the neighbour’s garden with an indignant squawk. Manila felt bad for a split second, then laughed out loud.

“Hey!” protested Raja, picking herself up from the enormous hosta plant she’d fallen into, her long black hair in her face, “I thought you liked me!”

“I do like you, you don’t need to worry about that!” said Manila over her shoulder, maintaining a joking attitude and walking up the steps to her house.

“You’re the worst,” whined Raja, making a face, then flipping her off in a friendly goodbye. Manila returned the gesture.

Manila went inside and got a snack from the kitchen, said hi to her roommate Shangela who’d just gotten out of the shower, and went into her room. Manila dropped her backpack to the ground and flopped down on her bed. 

It was simple: Raja was blazed as usual and messing with her, that was all. But if there was anything Manila was good at, it was messing with people in return.

-

Raja wasn’t used to being rejected. She was, after all, very cool, extremely sexy, highly intelligent and always had weed. Clearly a catch! But apparently not to Manila. Raja knew Manila liked her, Manila had specifically said so the other day! They were already friends, they understood each other’s humour, and they hung out regularly, which was half the battle when it came to getting involved with somebody, even casually.

So, at Morgan’s Hallowe’en party, Raja found herself on the enormous, crumby couch, passing a blunt back and forth with Manila and several others. Some mid-2000s hip hop music played in the background, and way too many people were packed into the space in ridiculous costumes. Manila was pressed in next to her on the crowded couch. Earlier Raja had noted Raven somewhere at the other end of the house, pointedly ignoring her, which was ideal.

Manila somehow managed to look incredibly cute while dressed as Weird Al Yankovic, fake moustache and all, which was a feat in and of itself. Raja was dressed as Raoul Duke from Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, because she related to him on a spiritual level, and already had the sunglasses for it. Their dumb costumes even matched, both featuring ugly Hawaiian shirts. Manila was cracking a joke with Carmen on her other side, and Raja figured this was as good an opportunity as any. Raja slung a casual arm around Manila, passed the blunt back to her and whispered in her ear, “Do you wanna make out?”

Manila put the blunt to her lips and inhaled deeply, the end glowing orange as Raja waited with anticipation for her answer, excitement mounting in her stomach.

With a smirk, Manila blew a lungful of smoke into Raja’s face, then she rested her hand on Raja’s thigh, and leaned in. Raja’s heartbeat accelerated.

Manila shut her eyes and Raja shut hers too, barely able to believe it was happening. Manila’s lips brushed against hers, soft, thrilling, just the barest hint of contact-

Manila pulled back abruptly, and Raja opened her eyes, confused. 

Manila gave her an absolutely shit-eating grin and declared, “Nope!”

Raja’s jaw, along with her mood, dropped with disappointment. An odd moment passed between them. Through her haze Raja realized, with Manila’s shit-eating grin and her hand on still suggestively on her thigh, that Manila was mocking her. Raja, totally stoned, asking her to make out with for a second time with the exact same line had inevitably, painfully, become a joke. 

Raja huffed, insulted, and turned away. Manila cackled.

On Raja’s other side someone new sat down, a pretty, athletic and tanned girl with dirty blonde hair, her amazing body in clad in what was basically red lingerie and devil horns. Raja recognized her, she was that girl a year or two below them who went running with Manila sometimes. She was laughing, her head thrown back, at something another blonde beside her was saying.

Raja tapped her on the shoulder and said, “Hey, you’re cute, do you wanna make out?”

The girl blinked at her in shock, and then grinned, and said, “Uh, oh my god, yeah.”

“Great.”

“Damn, you’re so direct, I’ve had a crush on you like forev-”

Raja ignored her, took her face in her hands and leaned in. Their lips met and the girl let out an excited gasp. She tasted like Jack Daniels and smelled like tropical perfume. Nice. And she was a great kisser, with an enthusiastic and knowing tongue. The girl’s warm hands immediately went to Raja’s shoulders. Around them a few people oohed and laughed, and Raja caressed the girl’s lower back and practically pulled her into her lap. Raja’s bucket hat fell off the back of her head.

Manila was still laughing at something on Raja’s other side, but her laughter stopped abruptly, and Raja felt the couch shift as Manila stood up. Raja broke the kiss for a moment and glanced over her shoulder in time to see Manila stomp away, furious jealousy in every line of her body, throwing her fake glasses to the floor.

That’s right, burn.

Smug, Raja went back to making out with the blonde chick in her lap, their hands wandering all over each other until someone yelled at them to get a room. May as well. Raja got up and led the girl into Morgan’s messy bedroom and shut the door.

“You know you’re like a legend around here, right?” chuckled the blonde girl, grasping the edge of Raja’s shirt and pulling her down onto the bed with her, “By the way, my name’s Willam-”

“That’s nice,” replied Raja, crawling on top of her, kissing her neck and getting down to business.

-

It became an inside joke.

Manila had barely managed to pull it off, because coming so close to kissing Raja had been horribly thrilling, (electric, overwhelming, transcendent), and she’d wanted so badly for it to be real, to be anything other than just a stoned-and-low-key-horny suggestion on Raja’s part-

So, despite Manila’s burst of jealousy over Raja’s makeout session at the Hallowe’en party with Willam, her gym buddy of all people, their friendship remained strong and uninterrupted. Manila didn’t hold it against Willam either, who’d been all too happy to talk about it at their next cardio and gossip session, because Raja was generally irresistible. Manila sure as hell wasn’t going to let it get to her. After all, this kind of thing was in the nature of a friendship that largely consisted of roasting each other to death over a high-octane flame.

As the week passed the joke got even funnier. Raja got over sulking about it, and started purposefully asking Manila to make out at the most hilarious, awkward, and inopportune times.

For example:

Playing Smash Bros at Raja’s house late on a Saturday night with Delta and Carmen, everybody squashed on the couch: “Can we make out if I win?” “As if you’d ever beat me, bitch.” “It’s true Raja, you kind of suck at Nintendo-” “Shut up!”

Hollered across the quad, much to Manila’s embarrassment and Raja’s enjoyment, in front of a crowd of freshman, “Hey Manila, you wanna come over here and make out!?” “Go shove your tongue down somebody else’s throat!” “Aw, rude!”

In the hallway after class, just as Professor O’Hara walked by, loudly: “Wanna come back to my place and make out?” “Oh my god, Raja!” “Ladies.” “Sorry, professor!”

Whispered in the library, “Do you wanna go into the stacks and make out?” “Write your essay.” “I’m done, though-“ “What, already!?”

Even Delta and Carmen got in on it, and Manila had to dodge the question from them too. Teasing, sexy requests of, Hey, wanna make out, Manila? followed her around, as Manila clapped back hilarious retorts to gales of laughter. It was fun and Manila rode the wave of attention with aplomb.

Manila figured that this particular’s joke’s shelf life would only last as long as any other and would soon fade into oblivion, replaced by whatever came next, and Manila would never have to address or bring to light her feelings for Raja.

In her opinion, she’d handled the situation perfectly. And Manila praised herself for it as she ran her usual route, glancing up at Raja’s house as she ran by.

But every night before she fell asleep, a little voice tugged at the back of her brain and said, maybe you shouldn’t mock people when they express attraction to you, that’s kind of fucked up, and she’s your friend, maybe she actually does like you back- Manila aggressively quashed it.

-

“Hey, so,” said Raja, on the way to the library with Manila to buckle down and write their philosophy papers together as the end of term approached, “Why don’t you want to make out with me? Like, I’m a total catch.”

It hadn’t previously occurred to her to ask, but maybe this would help her get a leg up on the situation. Ideally Manila’s leg. Ideally up on her shoulder while Raja ate her out, and Manila blushed pink like she sometimes did, and tangled her hands in Raja’s hair, and gasped and arched her back and- that was neither here nor there. As hilarious as it was, the joke had been driving Raja a little insane. If Manila had said, in any seriousness, that she wanted Raja to stop asking, Raja would have. But she hadn’t, Manila had leaned in to the silly, flirtatious back and forth. 

Instead of forgetting about it, the endless teasing and parody of the matter had only reinforced what Raja wanted in the first place.

“Well,” said Manila after a pause, adjusting her heavy bag and glancing at the cloudy sky, “You don’t take school very seriously.”

“What?” laughed Raja, who’d been expecting something more along the lines of I’m genuinely not attracted to you or I think I want to date guys again, “Is that really it? I totally do!”

“No you don’t, you’re a huge stoner.”

“Yeah but thats just for fun, I’m like really smart,” replied Raja, grinning, “You should see my GPA.”

“Mmm no, you’re real dumb,” sassed Manila. She shook her head and her curly hair, up in a high ponytail again today, bounced with the motion and Raja wanted to run her fingers through it. “You’re a total goofball and everyone knows it. You show up to class high! I have like a 3.82, and I want to keep it there.”

“How would making out with me affect your grades?”

“They say you are what you eat…”

They both exploded into laughter, causing the other students walking down the busy campus path to throw irritated glances their way.

“Bitch,” replied Raja, elbowing her, “A 3.82 is nothing-”

“Hey, no,” protested Manila, stopping and turning to her, “It’s like really good, don’t talk down my accomplishments just because you’re jealous-“

“I have a 3.91.”

Manila opened and shut her mouth in shock, before responding, “No you don’t, you’re lying.”

“No I’m not.”

“Prove it.”

“Sure,” chuckled Raja, taking out her phone and going to the school website, launching the grading centre, pulling up her current transcript and grade point average, “Look.”

Raja handed Manila her phone, gloating. The screen read 3.91847. Manila took it and her eyes narrowed, and she scrolled up to check that it was actually Raja’s name at the top, then back down again. 

“Guess I do take school seriously,” taunted Raja, unable to suppress the urge to tease her.

With unexpected force, Manila shoved the phone back into Raja’s hands.

“Whatever!” snapped Manila, rushing ahead furiously.

“Hey, where are you going?” called Raja after her, laughing, “Don’t be mad just ‘cause I get better grades than you-“

“I’ll see you at the library!” snarled Manila over her shoulder, power walking down the street.

Raja watched Manila walk away, pleased that she’d proven her wrong her but confused as to why she was so mad. Raja wandered into the little smoking area with a couple of scraggly trees and fished in her bag for a tiny joint she’d hidden there earlier. She found it and lit up, inhaling the comforting smoke. Just a little something to help get those creative and intellectual juices flowing…

-

After a few hours of work in the library while Raja pumped dreamwave tunes through her headphones directly into her skull and wrote her philosophy paper, she looked up and noticed Manila sighing deeply for like the fourth time.

“What’s up?” whispered Raja, taking her headphones off.

“Nothing,” whispered Manila back. Her eyebrows were scrunched together.

“Are you mad at me?”

“No.”

“Fine.”

Raja put her headphones back on, without music, and wrote a few more sentences, pausing to check her references. She was going to get a hundred percent on this paper, she already knew it. Raja had been a bit of a child prodigy in terms of reading and writing comprehension, and her memory, her research skills, her grasp of history, literature, sociology and philosophy were outstanding. Her two dads were loving and supportive hippies who let her do whatever she wanted, so her sense of freedom and confidence had soared throughout her college career along with her grades.

“I can’t believe you have a higher GPA than me,” complained Manila, under her breath.

Raja took her headphones off again and gloated, “Yep, this huge stoner right here is better at school than you.”

Manila glared at her, then sighed again. Raja smirked, but her face fell, because Manila actually looked sad. And tired. There were lines under her eyes. Sympathy tugged at Raja’s stomach. 

“Well, a 3.82 is really good,” began Raja, shutting her laptop and leaning forward, “Like, it’s above average-”

“Don’t be patronizing,” said Manila, shaking her head, closing her laptop and gathering up her books, “I can’t work on this anymore, let’s head out.”

“Okay, sure,” said Raja, getting up. A few people at other tables were glaring at them anyway, angry about the interruption of the silence. Raja wanted to make Manila feel better, and wondered how.

They left the library, walking together through the dark evening in the direction of home. It was a clear night, and the stars were just visible. Raja dug around in her bag for a joint but couldn’t find one.

“I have that good spicy instant ramen and Cheetos at home,” suggested Raja after a few minutes, “It’s not that late if you want to come over.“

“So we can make out?” added Manila sarcastically.

“No,” replied Raja, “Just to like decompress, I dunno, I’m hungry, I thought you might be too…”

“Do you ever eat vegetables?”

“Weed is a plant.”

Manila laughed and shook her head.

“What’s bothering you?” pressed Raja. 

“I try like, really hard,” said Manila, after a pause, “I take college seriously, and my parents have such high expectations of me, I just- I put so much work into it and you-” Manila gestured at her, “You fucking coast, Raja. Look at yourself. You get stoned all the time, you party and play Nintendo. And honestly, you treat the girls you date like they’re disposable, Raven’s reaction wasn’t that unreasonable… but everyone still likes you, you somehow have a perfect GPA and you look amazing-”

“Yeah, I do look amazing,” agreed Raja, with a smile. She decided to ignore the middle part of what Manila had said.

“-and you have the self-awareness of a fruit bat.”

Raja looked carefully at Manila. Her expression was tired and frustrated, the orange glow of the streetlight catching in her hair. Despite the way they constantly roasted one another, Raja cared about her, and it saddened her to hear that Manila was feeling the pressure of… well, everything.

Self-awareness. Hmm. Raja could work on that. Maybe that was the key to getting Manila to see that she wasn’t joking, that Raja genuinely, unexpectedly, to her own surprise, really liked her.

“So,” said Raja, as they approached her house, the living room light shining like a beacon, indicating that Delta or Carmen was still up, “Instant ramen and Cheetos? You can kick my ass at Smash Bros, that always makes you feel better.”

“You know what, sure,” replied Manila, rolling her eyes, a smile at the edge of her mouth, “I’m gonna hand you your ass on a silver platter, bitch. Especially since you always insist on playing as Yoshi for some reason…”

Raja smiled to herself as they went up the front steps to her door.

[mx-ishikawa]

Pieces of Us (1): Special

Hey there! more fanfiction from me, this time for The LEGO Movie! it was long overdue, but better late than never lmao. this franchise means so much to me, and I've been wanting to write out how my self-insert fits into the story for the longest time, but I wasn't sure how to do it. so I decided to break it up into snippets! this is the first, taking place during the speech scene in Cloud Cuckooland. after this, we'll start getting into the events of the second movie (and yes, Rex will eventually show up), but for now, here's the first meeting with Emmet!

           I had never seen anything like it in all my life.

           Cloud Cuckooland, filled to the brim with Master Builders from every realm, more excited than they had been in years. Joyous shouts of “The Piece of Resistance has been found!” echoed over and over. And I stood in the middle of all the celebration, completely bewildered.

           “I’ll be damned,” I breathed. “She actually did it.”

           When I first heard the news, I assumed Wyldstyle had found the Piece. After all, she was determined to become the Special, and had just left for Bricksburg, the last place in which the Piece was searched for as it was the riskiest, the day before. And now it had been found, who else could’ve done it? I was relieved that she didn’t get arrested, and looked forward to whatever plan she had in store to stop Lord Business.

           I discreetly made my way into the Dog, trying not to be noticed by the Master Builders. Even though Cloud Cuckooland claimed not to have any rules, I wasn’t sure if I’d get in trouble for being at a Master Builder meeting when I wasn’t actually a Master Builder myself. Despite my dad being a skilled Master Builder, I never could pick up the talent. I think the biggest reason is because a lot of Master Building involved clearing your mind to focus, and Man Upstairs knows I was never able to do THAT. If I can’t even turn my brain off long enough to fall asleep at night within a reasonable amount of time, how the hell was I supposed to do it to learn an entire skill? But that didn’t stop me from trying, as I continued to train whenever I could, which was hard when you risked capture by Lord Business.

           I picked a spot at the edge of the stands, sitting down in front of them and making myself as small as I could. I spotted my dad seated more obviously in the crowd, keeping mostly to himself as I did. I pulled out my sketchbook and began to doodle as I waited for the wizard Vitruvius to arrive with the Special. I looked around the Dog once more, and it was sad how few Master Builders were left uncaptured. I only hoped that the rest of them, led by Wyldstyle, would be able to free everyone.

           In many ways, I was jealous of Wyldstyle. She was so much cooler, smarter, tougher, stronger, and more attractive than I could ever hope to be. If anyone was fit to lead the Master Builders, it was her. It was no wonder she managed to get Batman of all people as a boyfriend. But my jealousy only gave me more reason to admire her, rather than hate her. No, I could never hate her, she’s done far too much for me. Though I couldn’t help but wish I could even begin to compare to her. Hell, wishing was all I could do.

           I was soon snapped out of my thoughts when Vitruvius made his way to the stand and addressed the crowd. Behind him, I saw Wyldstyle, Batman, Princess Unikitty, and an average-looking construction worker. Where had he come from? I didn’t recall seeing him at any previous Master Builder gatherings. He was looking around in innocent wonder, so he had probably never been in here before. He was then jolted out of his daze as Vitruvius spoke the words that many Master Builders had been waiting to hear for the past eight and a half years.

           “The Special has arisen.”

           Gasps and whispers were tossed back and forth as the news of the Special was officially announced, and I was shocked to see that all eyes were not on Wyldstyle, but the construction worker. He found the Piece? I couldn’t believe it wasn’t Wyldstyle. He looked up at everyone and appeared nervous, shifting his wide eyes a bit.

           After a brief tiff with Gandalf and Dumbledore, Vitruvius spoke once more. “The Special will now give an eloquent speech.” He moved out of the way to make room for the construction worker. He was hesitant to step forward. I noticed how unsure he looked. He looked down at his feet, messing with his hands a bit, before looking back up at the crowd. He just seemed so shy. Perhaps that’s what first drew me to him, as I had always found shy guys to be adorable. Vitruvius poked in one more time, probably to reassure the Special, who then finally stepped forward rather cautiously. It was unusually silent as he made his way to the stand. I could hear the echoes of his footsteps and small grunts as he made it up to the stand. His chest heaved as he braced himself to speak.

           “Hello!” he finally spoke, raising his hand in a wave. He began to rock back and forth on his heels a bit. “I’m Emmet.”

           Emmet, huh? That name was kinda cute. He was kinda cute. A small smile crept its way onto my face.

           “Oh, and this is the Piece of Resistance.” Everyone cheered as Emmet turned around to reveal the Piece of Resistance, stuck to his back! I was silent for a moment, wondering how that happened, before joining in on the cheering and clapping. Emmet looked around in amazement, as if he hadn’t expected so much praise. “Thank you…” And then, his nervousness seemed to fade away. “Well, uhhhh, I know that I, for one, am very excited, to work with you guys! To get into the Octan tower, find the Kragle, and put this thing on the thing! And I know it’s going to be really hard, but—”

           His speech was cut short when the sound of clanking metal suddenly filled the room. It was Metalbeard. Oh boy, he was probably here to tell the story of how he tried to sabotage Octan and ended up losing his body again, wasn’t he? As it turned out, he did just that, leaving Emmet in a state of mild distress. I tuned out most of Metalbeard’s story, having heard it multiple times before, and focused on Emmet. I had noticed how much more confident he had suddenly appeared right before he was interrupted, and just how expressive he was. But now he was recoiling, presumably wary of Metalbeard’s hulking stature.

           “So if ye think it be a good idea to return to that forsaken place, Special,” Metalbeard finished, “what idea have ye that be better than the ideas of one hundred of our fallen Master Builder brothers?”

           Emmet shuffled, struggling to find the answer. “Uhh… well technically, I’m not a Master Builder yet, but—”

           “WHAT?!” Metalbeard cried. The crowd fell into chaos, and my own mouth hung agape. He wasn’t a Master Builder? But I was sure that only a Master Builder could be the Special! Heck, I could’ve tried to become the Special! Not that I would be a good fit for that role. I didn’t have adequate leadership skills. I was snapped from my daze when Emmet spoke again.

           “Please, everyone, please!” he tried to calm everyone down. Something was thrown at him, but he dodged it. “Yes, it’s true.” His face took on a rather sad expression as he continued. “I may not be a Master Builder. I may not have a lot of experience fighting, or leading, or coming up with plans. Or having ideas in general. In fact, I’m not all that smart. And I’m not what you’d call a creative type. Plus, generally unskilled. Also, scared, and cowardly.” I was amazed at how strong Emmet’s voice was as he made all these self-depreciative claims. If he really was everything he said he was, then at least he had the balls to admit it. “I know what you’re thinking: he is the least qualified person in the world to lead us!” He paused for a minute, giving the crowd an unfittingly cheerful grin. “And you are right!”

           The crowd fell into whispers and gasps once more, but they weren’t hopeful this time. “This is supposed to make us feel better?” the Gill-Man hissed as the other Master Builders began throwing things at Emmet.

           “Well, there was about to be a ‘but’—”

           “You’re a butt!” Gandalf sneered. A sick feeling rose in my chest as the crowd became increasingly angry, some even walking out. This isn’t right! He might not be a Master Builder, but he did find the Piece! Qualified or not, at least give him a chance! Was I really the only one who admired Emmet’s honestly and hopefulness in his speech?

           “Why is everyone leaving?” Emmet cried, dodging everything thrown at him. “Come on, guys! We can still do this! Right?”

           The knot in my stomach grew. I saw Batman whispering something to Wyldstyle, who appeared unsure of this mess herself. Any trace of hope was drained from Emmet as his brows knitted together. He looked like he was about to cry. I heard the word “disappointment” from somewhere in the crowd, and that was when Emmet finally turned and trudged away, shoulders slumped in shame.

           That’s. It.

           I wanted to punch every Master Builder left in this room! I wanted to shout for everyone to stop and call them out for their harshness! What did Emmet do to be so cruelly rejected?! But I didn’t dare open my mouth. Instead, I made my way over to the shunned Special, making sure to tread lightly and avoid tossed objects. I had no idea what I was doing, but I had to do something.

           “Hey,” I began when I was close enough to Emmet. He looked up at me in surprise, tears threatening to spill from his eyes.

           “I uhh… I have faith in you.”

           “Really?” Emmet gasped.

           “Yeah, I mean, I’m not a Master Builder either, nor am I smart or skilled, but I’m also not as hopeful as you are, so… I think you’ll do good. Sorry everyone’s being a bunch of jerks.”

           Emmet made a small, sad chuckle. I wanted to hug him so badly. “It’s alright. At least it can’t get any worse.”

           That’s when I heard the sound of a giant orb crashing through the roof.

[horrible-monstrosity]

inhales

My youtube history needs a fucking exorcism

That aside, what is it about this game that has people sucking its god damn cock so god damned hard? There's been like ninety the fuck billion "reject reality because sad and something something dreamworld" works already and I'm sure at least some of them have to be better than this undercooked pile of crap. And I keep seeing these fuckloads of Tumblr rejects praising it because "I'm a worthless brokebrain who doesn't want to put any effort at all into improving myself and this gaem validates my mental illness!!! uwu" ... That second point probably goes toward explaining the first, huh.

Also, when was it actually established that Funny had amnesia, and wasn't just refusing to face reality? I feel like it would have gone a lot differently if he straight up didn't remember it- like, he might have actually been able to leave the house normally, and been somewhat fine until something "triggered" his memories and sent him back into despair and running back home. And he just never shows any sign of not knowing something he should. Plus that takes a lot of agency away from him. Instead of him choosing to fight reality rather than face it, his brain just decides it for him, until he bumbles his way into not doing that anymore. Not that its actually possible to get a read of anything reasonable when the game has him just sitting there dead while everyone else argues about his dead sister and NO ONE THINKS THIS IS UNUSUAL. Like they're actually just expecting him to sit there and take it. They neither try to pull him into a conversation that very much concerns him nor think there's something horribly wrong with him just acting like a dead sack of potatoes while they discuss something that very much concerns him. It doesn't even come off like they're trying to be considerate, there's just... nothing. That's a problem throughout the whole game honestly, he just bumbles around in both the dream world and real world until he just kind of decides for no reason to face the real world. You know, it probably would help if the character you're deeply psychoanalizing isn't at the same time a generic-ass mute cipher character.

and let's talk about the dreamworl- despite failing to properly parallel za tweezt, it bothers to autistically parallel things inthe real worl that don't matter and that no one, audience or mori/funny alike, have any reason to care about. oh, ber is kergy, vance is van fogey, wow who fuck cares who the fuck even are these people to him? Having cunt princess, spacecuck and the sproutfucks be consoomer shit is also dumb as internally demonstrated by the game store having to inexplicably be some shitty outdated retro store to handwave funny knowing these characters when he hadn't left the house in four years. It's such a cheap and vapid form of parallelism, too- these things don't mean anything except muh clinging to childhood. And it makes shit that just doesn't have a parallel in the real world stand out like a sore thumb as well- like, what the fuck is Pluto? What's the job subplot supposed to mean? What the absolute fuck is th whale vore chapter?Why princesscunt try to marry hurro? does this have something to do with his relationship with murry? was omorashi concerned about one of them being stolen from him by the other? Naw, it's just because they're both single-point existences who do something very vaguely in line with their surface-level characteristics. Princess is cunt female and hurroo attractive male, so she wants his cock (in a childish g-rated way because muh clinging to childhood because muh trauma). As a connoseiur of metaphorical/parallel weirdshit (meguca and Kuuchuu Buranko fuck yeah) I'm seriously fucking offended by this poorly-constructed surface level fucking shit, put more effort into your goddamn metaphorical weirdfuckshit, this goes for you too eggfucks I have to wonder what the fuck omorashicat was doing that this shit took years to develop. it feels like she just did everything linearly and then just got to the end and was like OH FUCK SHIT GOTTA WRITE A CONCLUSION NOW JUST PUT SOMETHING IN RIGHT NOW FUCK.

By the way, why did Funny need to be told about hHuuro's nickname being sandwich rather than anything worthwhile? He knew about it before retreating to the dreamworl, so it didn't happen after he cut contact, so did he never wonder about it while he was friends with them? He never saw Huuuro deepthroating a fucklong sandwich? And why the fuck was whatsname prompted to suddenly tell Funny about it again? It was literally, like, nothing. Just like the nickname thing itself being nothing outside of HA HA FUNNY WACKY SANDWICH RANDOM LULZ fuck off

Oh you know what else fucking sucks, that random subplot about reul luif suck, you can't be chef on the side because be doktor? Like first off, why the fuck are Hero's parents forcing him to become a doctor? They're vaguely hispanic, not, you know... asian. Race jokes aside, you'd think him changing track to wanting to be doktor would have had something to do with Mari, the very important person in his life who fucking died- maybe her death made him want to save other people, maybe it was some dream of hers he decided to carry on. But no it's just some random unrelated "my parents are randomly dicks who decided to destroy my own life dreams for their personal satisfaction and I let them :)" shit. And then there's the matter of this theme/plot thread just being brought up once to generate misery and never again, never being connected to anyhing either. All it really does is force Kel to look like an immature retard who thinks dreams are a thing that matters, lol loser, not like Aubey who bla bl abl abl ahla bkablabalabba And don’t tell me this is what the job dream plot was supposed to represent, because there’s no correlation. Hero was actually quite fulfilled being sharkmang’s gopher/cocksucker until friendship came up, and everyone else’s problems were just childishness. It’s nothing Actually there's another thing, there's an odd undercurrent of characters being just a little bit... too immature for what they're supposed to be. Hero says he still thinks about Mari everyday and he cri everitiem, but... it's been four years, he's a grown-ass adult now, this was a teenage love interest. I'm not saying he needs to flat out get over it, no fucking shit, but he mourns like a child... or like a child's idea of mourning someone. Brazil's caretaker when he cadets sudoku, too, acts like an angsty teen or something. Like, you're presumably a professional at this, you've never had some troubled ward self-harm or die or anything? Who the fuck even was this woman in the end? I don't know whether it's a case of the characters being written as too immature or more like the writing itself is too immature to handle it, but it's... off.

and one moooore thiiing- there's a scene manry skipped over and never got back to, possibly because he was getting tired of this game's shit even if he still liked it in the end, but the comments covered it- after Mary's death, Hero shut himself up in his room and cried for a year straight, basically Omori's shut-in thing but a bit different. At some point Kel comes in to get him and he lashes out and makes his little bro cry/hurts him or something, and the parents come running in. Ok, fine so far, but then it gets a bit weird... at first I actually misread the comment, and thought the parents had come in and ignored Hero and just comforted Kel, and that's what snapped Hero out of his misery. That seems like it makes sense, right? The parents would care more about the younger, more impressionable child, especially if he's been hurt, and especially if they’d been neglecting the older one nayway. It's got a weird undercurrent of Hero finally realising that his own parents don't give a fuck about his misery after a year of uninterupted crying and accepting that is a good thing because it makes him go become doktor, but that's in line with some other... weird shit in the writing, including said plotline of Hero being forced into being a doctor by his parents in the first place. But actually what happened was, after Hero violenced on poor Kel, the parents... rushed in and suddenly flipped a switch so they only cared about Hero, and it was on Hero to show some compassion for Kel. Whut? The parents, after not giving a damn shit about their miserable older son for a year, and after he's (unintentionally, but they wouldn't know that) violenced their innocent younger son, they suddenly only give a shit about the older. Instead of, you know, giving a damn about both sons or something. This isn't even internally consistent, let alone thematically coherent or meaningful in anyway. It's just confusing. I don't know, maybe the commentor fucked the scene up, but it's weird.

fuck this my brain needs a fucking exorcism

and also finally him ending up in the hospital where his friends can visit him is kind of cheating the moving deadline and it really undermines the whole point of the game up until this point lmao fuck this shit i’m out

[lawlightfan42069]

iyo when you write non-straight characters should you specify their sexuality/gender? I mean I'm personally a very 'not into labels at all' person for my own sexuality but support ppl who do find comfort in labels. but when I write I also tend to go toward the 'he just loves who he loves !!!' that sounded stupid but idk how to explain it.. so... like I was wondering why you feel strongly about explicitly stating someone's queerness instead of it being implied (at least u come off as that sorta)

i do definitely feel like that so!! i happen to have a lot of feelings about this so get ready for a Long Ramble. this is a precaution before ive even started typing i just know im gonna write a lot

i think before we start saying anything, we’ve got to acknowledge the difference between people who say that they dont like labels, and writing characters who Don’t Like Labels™. pointing out the problems of the latter is not a condemnation of the former. if someone rly doesnt feel like labeling their sexuality or gender, thats totally alright. the difference between these two is the person is a nuanced, multifaceted human being who may have lots of personal reasons for feeling that way, while the second is a fictional character that is Created and informed by cultural views of the creator. a person is not “created” by one single author and characters arent like…real living agents that have their Own Free Will, they are what their creators make of them. anyway i just feel like this is a rly important distinction that gets lost often!! i’m also more willing to look favorably on someone who self describes that way writing characters based on their own experiences, bc this perspective is inherently different from a straight person writing these sorts of characters. but moving on. 

whats also important to understand, beyond writing characters, is how being openly not straight is shunned. queer people are not allowed to Exist as openly queer and they have not been allowed historically. even these days among people who consider themselves progressive, you’ll often hear that “its alright if someone is gay but do they have to shove it in my face all the time.” this attitude isnt somehow formed in vacuum, but created in a society that treats been openly queer as a taboo. we aren’t allowed to be open about our sexualities the way straight people are. we can’t acknowledge that we’re queer lest someone tells us to Stop Shoving It In Their Face (not missing the irony as we’re surrounded by 400 billboards of hetero couples everywhere). i dont wan’t to delve into other aspects of discrimination and get too off track here, i just want to focus on how being Openly queer is treated as a taboo, particularly among people who still want to call themselves ‘accepting.’ the only way society allows queer people to exist is if they never remind anyone, Ever that they are not straight.

this is Integral to understanding why the i Don’t Like Labels characters are so frustrating. the unwillingness to Explicitly talk about queer people carries over quite handily to media. the same faux progressive people that demand queer people never talk about being queer bc its Too Much Information, will praise queer coded characters that hint at their sexuality but never confirm it. the reason these characters are written is not to genuinely explore why someone might feel uncomfortable with applying labels to themselves, but to appease people who will accept queerness as long as they never have to acknowledge it. this way, u can court queer people interested in representation And people who might like the story but will be uncomfortable with explicit queerness. its an attempt for writers to cash in on peoples desires for interesting queer characters without ever actually fully committing to representing them. you dont get to claim to support queer people if ur also out there providing comfort for peoples homophobia. you cant have a foot in both doors. 

describing queer experiences without calling them queer means that youre okay with this story as long as u dont acknowledge it as something Explicitly not straight and like…why?? why is it suddenly not okay when u take that bundle of experiences and use the word that theyre defining?? theres Weight behind using words like bi, gay, lesbian and if u reject them are u Really okay with lgbtq people? or are you okay with them Despite the fact that theyre lgbtq and not because you take into account theyre lgbtq. acceptance is not tolerating people Despite something, its acknowledging it and validating it as an okay thing to be. especially when it is something that historically Not been validated as okay. dismantling structural systems of queerphobia does not go about by ignoring queerphobia…shit this doesnt just fade away by chance, it takes active work. and part of this active work is Acknowledging Peoples Queerness As Something that is okay Out In The Open. the You in this isnt directed at you anon, just people who have these sentiments. 

throwing vague statements like ‘they just love who they love’ Also creates this level of ambiguity. you might say “well why do u need the certainty when ur describing what is at the very least, something obviously very not straight” and to that i say youd be fucking surprised at how goddamn hard straight people will try to erase the queerness out of a character. like i’m going to use a game called life is strange as a example. i’ll give some background: in the game, the main character max can romance both chloe and warren. note that max is not one of those blank state wholly customisable bioware-esque player characters, she has a personality outside of the choices u make. anyway, the conclusion that is Logically drawn from this is that she is most likely bisexual. or at the very least in some way, not straight. and Yet i have seen discussions that say “she doesnt have a set sexuality it just depends on the playthrough so shes not rly a Queer Character.” even more than that, ive seen people that saw “well even in the chloe one shes not necessarily gay or bi maybe shes just Making an Exception for chloe bc their relationship transcends sexuality” and like ??? Why??? why cant she just be bi?? even when given a queer romance, why do u try and interpret it in a way that sets her up as straight?? ive seen people say “its not a romance its just something that Transcends Words” as if this is… mutually exclusive from being a romance. like… Why doesnt this happen when hetero relationships are depicted?? ive literally never seen someone say “u know, maybe hes not attracted to women and just Making an Exception so hes not straight” why dont u see people try to erase the romance aspect out of hetero romances by claiming their relationship is “Beyond Words.” this treatment is 1000% only ever afforded to queer characters. this attempt to play off romance as not rly romantic is only done to queer characters, even if its done subconsciously. people will Refuse to accept a character is queer as fuck if you dodge around it, because heteronormativity is so ingrained in every interaction that even obviously queer characters get filtered through this lens. the problem with this isnt necessarily apparent until u look at it within historical context, where queer people are repeatedly not allowed to be openly queer. these arent isolated incidents, but manifestations of the idea that queer people shouldnt ever be open about their sexuality. youve got to tackle the discomfort that people have with words like gay/lesbian/bi/etc

i think this particular character trope wouldnt bother me so much if it wasnt like… the only narrative ever present. time and time again, i have to see characters proclaim that they dont like labels while never once even hearing people breathe the word bisexual. if it existed alongside characters who were explicitly queer it would be less frustrating But its literally one of the few ways (semi positive attempts at least) queer characters are ever portrayed. this is particularly true for bisexual characters lmao like… yes…theres people who dont like labels…but theres also millions of bi people that just wanna see a fucking bi character Talk about being bi and all we ever get is a vague “i dont like labels” (that is often never explored further than that and treated as a throwaway line anyway). is creating characters who say that a genuine attempt to characterize someones struggles with labels or is it just a way to avoid saying the word Bisexual.

same with queer romance in media. its only ever Okay if u just hint at it- see dumbledore being gay. see- the korrasami thing (though i dont fault the writers for this bc they pushed hard for what they got, its issues with the network). why are queer people relegated to drawn out stares that May imply something while straight characters are allowed to get into explicit relationships. when u create ambiguous characters that May be interpreted as straight (even if youve really gotta stretch) ur prefer to maintain the negative “neutral” of the heteronormative status quo and allow homophobes to live with their views unchallenged more than u care about addressing queerness in characters. 

 its not a coincidence that we dont do this to straight romance or straight characters. this is particularly important for queer kids!! its good to see queer characters out there being openly queer. while me and u can often pick up on queer themes and narratives, a 8 year old is not going to get that. especially when theyve been conditioned to see straight romance as the only feasible choice. they wont realize the character youre writing is gay or bi or whatever Because they havent been exposed to the connotations we associate w certain phrases. its so important for queer kids to see queer characters Owning that theyre queer. its especially importantly to normalize words like gay or bi or pan. being gay is often Extremely hypersexualized (which is why so many people will tell u they dont care what u do in the bedroom bc they can only picture queerness is a sexual context) so when u Dont treat these words as things only adults can say, u help get rid of the stigma surrounding them. u help remove the idea that being queer is inappropriate for kids to hear about and that the only possible aspect to being queer is sexual. 

anyway this has been Quite the Ramble but the point is that yes, we need to write more characters who are absolutely explicit about their sexuality and move away from the expectation that queer people need to create euphemisms to comfort homophobes desires to never hear about queerness.