#I think we can all relate here on tumblr right?
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Text
Something I like to note in my interaction with media is always “am I taking this as education, or inspiration?”
And that’s the important difference I believe.
If your worldview was opened and inspired by AT:LA, if you (assuming you’re a very privileged, sheltered adult I guess) learnt about say revolutions and genocide and imperialism and so on and so forth for the first time from AT;LA and it inspired you to read more articles and more reliable sources of media to gain a proper perspective, grounded in reality? That’s actually pretty great
If you refuse to interact with political content beyond a child’s show, beyond the very simplified representation of censorship in Ba Sing Se, beyond Zuko’s redemption arc/efforts in recovering from abuse, beyond the wipeout of the Airbenders and their culture, then we have a problem
Stories… are fiction, but they can teach a little, not a lot, a kernel of truth, and that is enough to serve their true purpose of inspiration.
Yes there’s such incredible skill in these stories, in Suzanne Collins’ biting and fiery allegory for the Hollywood machine (and reflection of the extremely corrupt class system + political empire of the US), in Princess Mononoke’s sincere heartfelt plea for environmentalism and balance between nature and humanity
But they are not the be all and end all. Miyazaki did not write Howl’s Moving Castle to teach you to lock yourselves out of the wider political environment around you, to passively call for pacifism as bombs are dropped by those you know, nor was it written to encourage you to condemn every leader or war started. It was written to present his perspective and personal anger over the Iraq War, writing a film he “felt would be poorly received in the US” (Wikipedia) Yes the story it’s telling you of pacifism and integrity is important, but as inspiration, it will not and should not be your guide to war. What is important here is what it could lead you to read, hell if you were as enchanted and interested as I was by this movie then it could lead you right back to the context, the reason for it being written. This could then lead you to researching the Iraq war, to learning why Miyazaki felt strongly, to look at further criticisms against the Bush administration.
That’s what it did for me. I didn’t know anything about American politics, but while studying the story for some other reasons (Heroine’s Journey related of course) I noticed why pacifism was an important theme. It wasn’t enough to get me interested, American politics weren’t necessarily linked to me (or at least that’s the default I submitted to thinking) but it opened my mind a bit. Okay huh that’s interesting, keep a note on that
It’s a note that then got added to when I read several Tumblr posts on issues with the Bush administration, then others on America and its founding. It got added to further when I learnt about Israel and Palestine, and then given some emotional, moral context as I learnt of Israel and Palestine and the atrocities occurring there and how many were likening it to what America did in Iraq and Afghanistan (since I really was too young to remember or think critically over them when they were going on)
There’s still so much I don’t know, I’m so young and even younger in my political knowledge.
What’s important is that as I grow the sources of information grow with me. Stories are important for so much, they are empowering and cathartic, a way to challenge you and inspire you, they are an expression, a call to arms, a hug around your shoulders on cold rainy days, but you cannot and should not live on a diet of fairytales and fantasies.
only reading ya or only watching kids shows is tremendously destructive to your ability to create or understand fiction (as any extremely narrow fiction intake is) but also ultimately that is not a super important skill in life or indicative of any deficiency of character
3K notes
·
View notes
Text
@feral-catgirl tumblr sorry replies suck, here's the parts of Anuradaha Gandhy's Philosophical Trends I perceive as anti sex work.
When you said that "her primary concern seemed to have been the organization and empowerment of dalit and adivasi women in particular, against being ostracized from their communities or murdered by the state." I completely agree, and frankly, think of her as an admirable figure. She was not a SWERF or a carceral feminist in anyway, but I don't think she is pro sex work.
From her section of Marxist critique of radical and cultural feminists:
The radical trend by supporting pornography and giving the abstract argument of free choice has taken a reactionary turn providing justification and support to the sex tourism industry promoted by the imperialists which is subjecting lakhs (100.000s) of women from oppressed ethnic communities and from the third world countries to sexual exploitation and untold suffering. While criticizing hypocritical and repressive sexual mores of the reactionary bourgeoisie and the Church, the radical trend has promoted an alternative which only further alienates human beings from each other and debases the most intimate of human relations. Separating sex from love and intimacy, human relations become mechanical and inhuman. Further, their arguments are in absolute isolation from the actual circumstances of women’s lives and their bitter experiences.
In the absence of characterizing sex work at all in the context of other kinds of labour, Gandhy is actually dismissing the rights of sex workers by saying that the historical work done by feminist sex workers to make safer, legal choices vs unsafe, illegal ones to access sex work enable sex tourism. Arguably, a less generous reading would be that she is obscuring imperial relationships by characterising pro sex work feminism as in anyway central to supporting them. The unthinking valorisation of sex with love and intimacy vis inhumane sex is frankly strange too. What about inhumane childcare where millions of dalit ayahs take care of and raise upper caste children? Why is sex work so distinct? When Gandhy engages with Marxist feminists who put this kind of work in continuum with sex work, she is critical of them for broadening the base (viz the superstructure) too much and making it meaningless.
If she speaks to real women's experiences in sex work, why is there no reference to the Durbar Mahila comittees (1990s), SANGRAM or any actual sex worker led movements? Imo it is pretty much an endorsement of the bog standard anti sex work and anti pornorgraphy politics dominant on the Indian left. When she invoked the figure of the Dalit prostitute, it was to actually dismiss her specific interests when criticising postmodernism:
Post-modernist feminists are glorifying the position of the “Other” because it is supposed to give insights into the dominant culture of which she is not a part. {...} Hence, for example, in reality no category of only woman exists. Woman can be one of the identities of the self— there are others too. There will be a Dalit woman, a Dalit woman prostitute, an upper caste woman, and such like. Since each identity has a value in itself, no significance is given to values towards which all can strive. Looked at in this way there is no scope to find common ground for collective political activity. The concept woman helped to bring women together and act collectively. But this kind of identity politics divides more than it unites. The unity is on the most narrow basis
Given that historically the Naxalites have, for what are deemed operational reasons, discouraged intimate relationships for cadre members and coercively required sterilisations for those who want to marry - I don't think we need to invent a pro sex work Gandhy when there isn't one.
26 notes
·
View notes
Photo
-->And then Victor was attacked by bees. In fact, he was attacked by bees twice. *facepalm* Yeah, kinda forgot that spring meant those little bastards would be awake and unhappy. . .they eventually left Victor alone, though, allowing him to offer his wrist to Smiler for a taste. After Smiler had gotten their fill, I had them mop a slime creature while having Victor finally change into some more gardening-appropriate clothes --
-->And then had Smiler try out some flower arranging, because it was New Skill Day, and they needed to level up a skill they were low in! And they already had a bit of Flower Arranging skill from tending the bonsai bush in the living room, so I figured, why not have them arrange some bluebells? They fiddled around for a little bit while Victor continued harvesting and tending his plants, eventually getting skill 2 and making a vase worth a whole twelve simoleons. XD To be fair, that’s still all pure profit, as the arrangement cost nothing to make, sooo. . . XD Plus it actually completed their New Year’s resolution as well, so double bonus! Flush with success, they headed upstairs to check the trends on SimsTube, then make another gadget review for the masses. Still in their party wear, because why not. XD
-->Alice, meanwhile, came back from her jog with Fitness level 5 (also fulfilling New Skill Day!) and some Flirty feelings about how well her romantic relationships were going. In fact, the moodlet suggested that maybe she should write a book. . .so that’s exactly what I had her do! I mean, she is working on the Bestselling Author aspiration anyway, so. . . She promptly started “It Takes Two Sometimes,” a book of her musings on her polyamorous “vee” relationship with Victor and Smiler. :)
-->And Victor continued his pottering in the greenhouse -- harvesting his oversized crops (just medium sized this time!), replanting and fertilizing them all, harvesting his regular crops, and finally giving his bees some demiting treatment to see if that would calm them down. Did it work?
#sims 4#the lazy save#victor van dort#alice liddell#smiler always#bees. my god#(look I couldn't fit the joke into the actual text XD)#but yeah the bees were not happy to be awake#I think we can all relate here on tumblr right?#and no I don't know WHY Victor always goes into the greenhouse in his sleepwear#like dude I KNOW you'll change into regular clothes if you go out the front door#what makes the greenhouse special?#I guess he just feels comfy in there#Smiler looks kinda cute arranging flowers in their party wear#I suppose I should have them all learn the skill at least a little#since they're gonna be making these to sell properly in the near future and all#we'll see how it goes and if I remember#and aww I liked that moodlet for Alice#yes good write your book#put more poly positivity into the world girl#queued
3 notes
·
View notes
Note
Ms. Venus pleasssse share your impeccable taste in the form of pinterest boards with the class, thank you. Also I miss your presence on Tumblr and I selfishly wish you had plans to come back to the fandom side of things but I’m wishing you the best from afar!!
i would totally share my beautiful boards with u if not for the fact that i had a full blown meltdown on pinterest abt yuri on ice and i have soooo many freaking yoi pins lmao and iiiit’s a lil mortifying actually. but i promise my wedding & fashion moodboards are 🤌🏻
#ngl i feel very detached from louis right now#like. nothing happened. i just don’t feel much of anything lately#towards him/the fandom#i’m also at a point in my career where i’m honestly just so very busy all the time and between that & other life stuff#i just…don’t have it in me to care right now#i will always love him and his music but my bar for caring about celebrities is low atm too#plus i want to be more present in my own very short very precious very beautiful life#and i’ve put things aside / ignored things for the sake of fandom too much (like…my whole life. not just related to louis)#i don’t want to do that anymore / am trying my best to grow as a person and get out of my comfort zone so growth can actually happen etc#anyway all this to say i’m here sometimes but i’ve taken a big step back and im okay with that#i don’t have the emotional capacity to focus on much more than my own life right now. which is good! i think lol#alsoooo. i think if you have a platform of any kind and are not using it to talk about the horrors happening in palestine…#again my bar for Celebrity™️ is low and i’m starting to think#we need to start hunting the rich and famous for sport maybe#starting with elon musk#anyway. thank you for your nice words. i am keeping a low profile but i check tumblr at least once a day lol 🫡#🥰🥰🥰
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
idk how to reconcile my new self with my old self. also i fucking hate waiting. GRAGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
#delete later#im getting a taste of my own medicine bc when im overwhelmed depressed etc i don’t even open emails or dms or whatever and then ifeel guilty#and let them build up and run away from them and literally do not reply for years. but ive been waiting for like 5 different but related#replies for 3ish days at this point and im soooooo impatient omg i want to bash my head into the wall.. and afaik no one i messaged has#opened the message despite being active online elsewhere which is EXACTLY what i do so i have no right to complain at all. but still. omggg#i just have a simple question (me and the ps5 voice) reply to my message boy#purrs#also.. ok yeah im gonna be honest about it even if there are consequences lol. idk why im on such a mission to get back all my old#characters but if i don’t i can and will go crazy. i don’t even do that kind of thing anymore and d*viantart is an irreversibly warped#landscape due in part to capitalism and in part to own mistakes and selfish actions. and i truly feel like my tumblr mutuals are the only#ones who understand me and feel safe and cozy on here. but i miss my old internet home. and i really miss my old internet friends and seeing#all the jokes we had and how we were all like interconnected w the same adopt groups and stuff and now we don’t even talk… it makes me so#sad and i feel weird messaging them just for the purpose of asking if they can give me back characters i gave them 4 years ago like a) you j#just don’t do that kind of thing i don’t think but b) it feels so transactional and would make the part of saying hey our friendship was#important to me when i was a teenager and even though we don’t talk anymore i think of you fondly and wish you well. like lollllll. and i#feel cringe even tracking them down / messaging them bc we are all jn our 20s now… embarrassing. but i am so mad at myself for letting those#friendships wither (not that i have the spoons to sustain them these days anyway but still) and for not keeping bettr track of my characters#when i sold them and for giving them up in the first place and for letting my old internet life just fall apart due to neglect bc it puts me#in a bind to try to piece it together again no matter how i try it and i shouldn’t try anyway. but i am so tempted to rn. lol#* itd make saying stuff abt appreciating friendship weird bc there’s a transaction tied in (source: i did this and feel weird and bad)#like the way i want to SCREAM seeing that dA ate all of the journals i made when i was a 14 year old and turned them into glitched polls. th#the way the wayback machine has terrible unreliable records of everything and i can never get some stuff back / track some stuff down. pain#anyways it’s stupid bc i feel cozy and listened to and as connected as i have the energy to be to all of u guys so why am i doing this. but#i miss the dA stuff too and i wish it wasn’t cringe and i wish i could have everything that’s ever been part of me all in one place. lol#also this doesn’t even take into account my poetry community on dA on my other account who i also felt so safe and cozy with and i abandoned#that too and lost touch with basically everyone even though we all knew each others deepest secrets for years.. the heartsickness of it all#anyways mutuals who knew me on deviantart i am clutching both your hands with impassioned urgency and kissing u on the cheeks. that’s all
13 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hiya honey girl!
How are you doing? ♥️
I feel gay today, and I don’t have anyone to vent to, so it’s gonna be you I’m afraid
I feel so gay, I spent half the day looking longingly in the distance, and *sighing* wishfully
Do you ever feel like that?
Last week I bought a red rose from a dude in the street and offered it to a beautiful lady singer in a bar, and even if I don’t particularly want to see her again, it still felt good to do something chivalrous and lesbiany you know?
I like living my life on my own, but some days I wish I could do those romantic things with somebody, like holding hands and cuddling, and walking along the river, and maybe kissing a little.
Even if I’m happy by myself, sometimes I still yearn for the day I’ll have my own lady to offer my roses to 🥺
inkaaaa hi hi <3
I'm doing pretty good, in drastic need of a weekend. almost there!
!!! gay vents are always welcome here! oh to look longingly into the distance whilst sighing wishfully...
do I ever feel like that YES absolutely in fact while pondering my response I did just that asjdfkl okay I might ramble in the tags but yeah completely relate to be happy with life on my own but sometimes wishing it wasn't just me yeah I'm definitely going to ramble in the tags
offering a beautiful lady a rose I'm 🥺🥺 sometimes you just have to indulge in chivalrous lesbiany actions this is unavoidable. manifesting this for you, I hope all your rose offering yearnings come true!
#this is so sweet and very relatable alksdfjs#only opting to ramble in the tags instead of the response bc I feel like this is going to get long lol you've been warned#but yeah. definitely do feel the happy by myself but sometimes wish I could be sharing that time with others#sometimes if i'm watching tv I'll wonder what new shows or movies I'd be watching if someone else was here#instead of the same eight shows I just watch on rotation all year (this is bc I like them btw. it's just hard to watch new shows#without external motivation to do so)#or when I'm working on the blanket that's been in progress almost two years. I wonder if I'd be making it in someone else's favorite colors#lot of little thoughts like this. some are fleeting and others I tend to get stuck on a bit or overthink#like breakfast for example. would I eat breakfast more consistently if I was also making it for someone else? what if they prefer to eat#the same thing every day? i need variety but I could make sure we always have their favorite fruit or put their cereal box out to make it#easier. or if getting the cereal out is part of their routine i can make sure their favorite bowl is always clean#i find myself wondering which of my mugs would be their favorite? which of theirs would be my favorite?#yeah i'm an acts of service person can you tell. also quality time... can you imagine the shared floor time conversations#a lot of the time I picture myself doing the exact same thing like watching tv and playing switch or practicing music or even working#the biggest different is just that someone else would also be here doing their own thing#to scroll tumblr in silence from the same couch... sending each other posts even though we're both right there. I do miss that#even chores would be more fun and go quicker I think. racing to see if they can do the dishes faster than I can fold and hang laundry#tidying and putting our things together in shared spaces. seeing them side by side just like we are#making the bed together and putting each of our stuffed animals on our own side#or maybe I'd just make it so they have one less thing to worry about#I think i've exposed myself enough alskdfj but there are quite literally hundreds more where those came from#anyway who wants to admit they have a crush on me (kidding) (ish)#asks#oops after posting this is looks like way more tags than I thought it would sorry anyone who made it this far
6 notes
·
View notes
Text
Temperate Lake Dashboard Simulator
🐦⬛2xcrested_cormorant Follow Going to try and eat this weird fish
♻️🐦⬛2xcrested_cormorant Follow wilmdlife hopital
🐸rana-bufo Follow No one can ever truly understand what BULL4rog's music means to me 😭 this song in particular argrgrgrgrgrg the way he puffs out his vocal sack asdfghjk
BULL4rog: listen here on spotify ♻️🐸rana-bufo Follow I think I huave chytrid
🐟ilikeeatingminnowsFollow I just migrated here from finstagram please be nice
🐠powerbottomfeeder Follow
I have HAD IT with this lake, it’s the third day in a row we’ve had nitrates above 8 ppm and uug the algae, my allergies I can’t do this
♻️🐟carpy-diem Follow
Lol we regularly get nitrates up to 20 ppm in my lake ♻️���crawdaddy Follow uhhh you shouldn't be bragging about that, it's really unsafe ♻️🐟carpy-diem Follow suck it you little oligotrophic bitch
🐢snappturt Follow Dear Tumblr, am I the Basshole for the way I catch minnows? I was chatting with some of the guys I bask with and they said the way I catch minnows is problematic; What I do is I sit on the bottom of the lake, I hide myself in the mud and I open my mouth. My tongue looks a lot like a little worm so I wiggle it around- and because of that, minnows swim over and check it out. Once they get close enough, then I bite down and eat them. Some of my rockmates have told me that this is manipulative and toxic behavior- but they also eat minnows...I don't know guys...
🦆tree hole-nester-acorn-eater Follow
is it just me, or is this super homoerotic???
🐟bigpikexxl Follow liveblogging diving down to the bottom
♻️🐟bigpikexxl Follow dark
♻️🐟bigpikexxl Follow big log
♻️🐟bigpikexxl Follow rock
♻️🐟bigpikexxl Follow kinda cold
♻️🐟bigpikexxl Follow oh hi @deepwatersculpin!!!
♻️🐠deepwatersculpin Follow oh hey @bigpikexxl!!!
never thought i'd seen one of my mutuals irl!!! I didn't even know we lived in the same lake!!!
🐠Shadlad Follow I'm not sorry, and I'm not afraid to say it, if you're an introduced species, go dry yourself out. You're not welcome to eat up all of our resources and live in my ancestral longs and rock crags. These things are for us to relate to and not for you to squander.
♻️🦞crevice-steve Follow
Can't believe this type of fishcourse is still popular on this site, introduced species didn't choose to be introduced and have as much of a right to live as anyone else. Bigotry against introduced species is still bigotry and that's a hill I will dry on. ♻️🐠Shadlad Follow Go ahead, dry yourself out then ;) ♻️🪷nootnootnewt Follow Hey man, I hate invasive species as much as anyone else but please stop telling people to beach themselves for political reasons- yeah that includes inavsives too ♻️🦐typical_scud Follow Did you legit just use the word Invas*ve to describe introduced species? ♻️🦢flatfootswimmer Follow anyone in this thread eat pondweed?
♻️🐟largemouthbASS Follow A colab with my mutual @2xcrested_cormorant after they got released from the wildlife hospital. They haven't been on much since the Fish and Wildlife Service released them in the wrong lake and it took them a while to get back to their colony. We hope this guide will help you avoid accidentally eating/engaging with bait!
#fishblr#fishposting#fake post#dashboard simulator#cw thalassophobia#thalassophobia#ecology#freshwater ecology#wood duck#walleye
23K notes
·
View notes
Text
.
#do you ever get the feeling you are influencing people but like in subtext somehow?#like this is the second time just this year where like#i have been ranting and rambling about something in the tags of related posts on here#only to like a few days or weeks later start seeing posts with my 'talking points' show up on my dash#but like filtered from other parts of the internet where i don't go?#and involving such disparate topics and contexts to where i'm like: am i just somehow aggregating#the general direction things are going out if random tumblr posts and thin air via idk intuition?#because i swear these are not points i'd seen put forward elsewhere that i brought up as tags#this was stuff i was feeling ranty about and wanted to get off my chest#one was fandom related: i started yelling about getting jimin on the radio back in the spring#then his slbum hits and while the song releasing to radio only makes sense actually#the fandom push for it and the sudden renewed interest in guiding fans to request and push for radio play were ?????#and then this thing with the campaign about it's okay to lie about your vote#like that stuff obviously has to have been in the works for a while to get made and released#but i hadn't seen anything at all about it before a week or so ago and the tag rant on a random political post about#how people who say they're not voting for a reason are the same as people who don't vote out of laziness or not caring#which devolved into a ramble about just vote and say you didn't then if all that matters to you is performative image#because no one is going to see your vote no one will know how you voted#you can just lie#and now i keep seeing post after post about the campaign embracing this concept#and the outrage about *that* and it HAS to be confirmation bias but it really feels#like i whispered my tags into the ear of some staffer and they said yeah that's a good point#we should remind people they can vote however they really feel and then just say whatever#they think mskes them look good or will keep them safe because in the end only the vote matters#at the end of the day#weird weird feeling but probably just somehow sensing some ways the wind is about to change right?#the pricking of the thumbs#man anonymity really is a concept thst people are increasingly unfamiliar with if we have reassure people like this huh
0 notes
Text
It is kind of funny thinking on my headcanon like naturally im googling that where im like Did anyone else have this thought and a few people yes! I tend to see other diagnoses which are usually fair. But also stumbling upon someone else thinking that by chance was so DELIGHTFUL i still clap when i see others mention it like YES!!! YEAH!!!!
#floyd.txt#it can be a complicated thing but again for me#i am projecting in some ways but i also see other traits and its#for me i do have genuine interest in this i always think its neat to see stuff align#for a character made before this was like...a diagnosis i guess. i guess thats wording it right...#i was rereading and highlighting because i know i had a lot of moments casually reading where im kind of like#woah...that reminds me of this/me#i always feel like i need to disclaimer stuff or otherwise but must i really. i can have fun. i can do things#i do think this is stemming from like..never really reading a character with such similar struggles.#both in what a lot of people may relate to but some things were like...#i dont know just kind of eerie in how nearly 1:1 it would feel like ive never really read a protagonist going thru this stuff#so i feel like i naturally dive im some more#i feel like these always sound goofy silly i just have a lot of struggles and it was an experience to see so fucking many in a guy made so#long ago...#like i read ive been picking up reading more and have related to charactwrs before to degrees but WAOW...#Good God i can ramble about him. sorry....nope...MY BLOGGGG#i can get over the duhh everyones thought and known this about the guy because I am pretty new here#part of the joy and fun is all of this..we are all new to something...! at some point! thank you.mm#tumblr app let me edit tags plese...
0 notes
Text
I HIT THE TAG LIMIT AGAIN </33 HERE WERE THREE TAGS THAT COULDN'T FIT I THINK AA this was so so good dodger i love you so much <3 EVERYONE PLEASE READ THIS ONESHOT I CANNOT ASK YOU ENOUGH PLEASE
B.I.L.L.S , t. hanamaki
american hero. . . b.i.l.l.s. by towa bird
If I had a dollar then I wouldn't have to bother 'bout the bills. I'm so tired of paying rent.
pairing : hanamaki takahiro x f!reader
cw/notes : poverty/financial insecurity, conversation about/wishing for "what could be" (and a deep dive into the feeling of wanting), use of the pet name "sweetheart," humor as a coping mechanism, language, eating used as a metaphor, lots of metaphors in general, established long-term relationship, I am genuinely very proud of this fic so if you got tagged out of the blue that's why <3
word count : 2.6k
The apartment was dingy and run down, a muted tone of gray that submerged the entire cramped space into desolace. A desolace that bled into the other rooms, through the floorboards, through every nook and cranny of the compact unit - through the bones of the pair that inhabited it. Pictures and posters littered the drab walls. Old developed pictures and various music flyers stuck to drywall with bits and pieces of scotch tape - real frames were far too expensive - as they tried desperately to combat the dreary aura of the space.
But it was difficult to fight against such longing; around every corner being yet another issue that would only ever be resolved with the one thing the pair didn’t have: funds. Air conditioning that went out every other month, as the landlord was too stingy to really fix it and complained with every call and maintenance request about the issue. Mold in the air vents, water pressure that was just short of a small stream, a lock on the door that barely bolted with a small chain lock that was used as a "replacement" that didn't really do anything. It reeked of dust and mildew, a musty smell that lingered no matter how many candles were lit and blown out. And trial and error to shut the, horribly painted, bedroom room; over the months they learned to turn the knob and slam rather than just slam.
It was a constricted, at times uncomfortable; limited space meaning old cardboard boxes stayed within the living area or bedroom - mementos gathered dust that all but covered the unit entirely. Memories shoved in a box that would barely ever see the light of day, or simply, didn’t want to. Such a place didn’t deserve such warmth. A god forsaken space didn’t deserve the radiant coziness that came with trinkets and baubles, didn’t deserve the framed pictures - that would crash to the ground anyway, as the drywall often crumbled and fragmented - and surely didn’t deserve the mellow residents who resided in it.
Both home from work, and both exhausted beyond belief, they sat together on an old, thrifted loveseat. A gaudy flower pattern that was stained and smelled of cigarettes from the latter owners, but a place to sit nonetheless. The man shuffled through a slew of mail, the woman, with her eyes closed and trying not to fall asleep right then and there, sat next to him.
“I’m so fucking tired of paying this shit,” he grumbled before throwing the envelopes onto the rickety coffee table. A table that was discounted, dirt cheap, as one leg was cracked and wobbly. Oftentimes, it broke when too much weight was put on it, duct tape lined the connection between the leg and table itself. All it held was other envelopes - bills, an array of clipped coupons, and a long forgotten coffee cup, that’s rim was chipped and the handle cracked.
“Then don’t,” the woman hummed in response, a cheeky reply to a serious notion. An exhaustion riddled in her voice that made him look over and sigh, heart strings pulled taut at seeing her weary form. “We can run away together and never have to see this shit hole again.”
He stayed quiet for a moment, letting a pause settle between them. Allowed the sound of the fan in the far corner of the room to take over the silence he offered, the hum of it engulfed the room as it rotated to cool the entire apartment. “Maybe we should,” he sighed before a small smile pulled at his lips. “We can go off grid and everything, y’know they make shows about people that live like that, right? We could be famous.”
A breath of air passed through the woman’s nose as she chuckled, and she opened her eyes to look over at him. “You’re an idiot.” Even as she smiled at him, he couldn’t help but notice just how tired she looked. Her eyes were dark and hazy, unfocused even, as it seemed like all she wanted to do was close them again - to sleep. Her work uniform crumbled and wrinkled as she sat with her legs up on the small couch, too worn out to change upon coming, to what they reluctantly called, home.
Home, to them, was coming back at odd hours. Never fully holding each other as the other had to whisk themselves away - to provide, to work. Times were fleeting, just as much as the money that came in. Gone within a second and drained from responsibilities. Every second together was taken with an ironclad grip, and sewn together with cups upon cups of coffee just to try and enjoy it all.
“Where would you want to go if we had the money to leave?” The off kilter question left his lips easily, without much thought put behind it. Because to him, that's all he ever thought about - leaving. He hoped one day he was able to scrape up enough funds, pack everything up, and leave the cramped unit all together with her by his side.
“Anywhere, honestly, this place sucks ass.” She groaned as she stretched her legs off the loveseat. A series of pops from overworked limbs hit his ears and made him frown - she didn't deserve to be this tired, not for this piece of shit apartment. Not for anything.
“I’m serious.” His normal, almost whimsical, tone went with the wind as he sat up a little straighter. He looked over to her with red tinged eyes, fatigued and strained, that swirled with an unforeseen worry.
“So am I.” A curt reply as she locked eyes with him. A realist, maybe a bit pessimistic to some, but the woman grounded herself in reality more than he. Didn't want to waste herself away with thoughts of what could be than what is. What could be was a sham, a figment of imagination she couldn't bear herself to think about often; as the thought of what is yanked her to the very pits of longing that she would later have to tear herself out of.
“I know where I’d want to go.” A dream he hadn’t told her before, he wished he had the money to surprise her with it. But that day was far off in the distance, a mere glimmer of a memory, and he cracked under the pressure of wanting to share. At least this way, they could experience the dream together.
“Yeah? Where?” She closed her eyes again and let her head fall to his shoulder.
“I’d want to go to Tokyo.”
She snorted at the thought, “spare me, Hiro, not this shit again.” A half hearted joke that landed a bit on edge, toed the line of snappy through drowsy laced words. A former wish she had heard before from him, a joke to only go to Tokyo to get piss drunk with friends.
“No, not the bar hopping thing.” He assured and waved off the remark with a small chuckle.
“Good, because you do that shit with Mattsun here anyway. You don’t need to drag me to Tokyo just for me to babysit you two idiots there.” Babysitting, truly, was an understatement to the woman. The thought made her cringe as she recalled past memories of his dear friend passed out in their bathroom, head in the toilet and completely out cold.
“I want to take you to Ueno Park to see the cherry blossoms one day.” His voice was a twinge quieter than before, a bit breathless as he couldn’t believe himself for finally saying the dream aloud. Deep brown eyes shifted over to look at the woman, whose head still rested on his shoulder - completely silent.
The comment had her at a lack of words, letting another silence pass by them once more; but it lingered far too long. A silence that, as moments passed, began to have a weight to it and started to suffocate her. Every inhale became shallower than the last, and she couldn’t find it within herself to take a single breath more of the humid, musky air the apartment provided. She felt herself tumble into the gaping hole of wanting, needing, craving - pure, unbridled hunger for more than what is. A ravishing feeling that took her by the shoulders and shoved, falling head first into the empty, hollow feeling of what could be.
What could be was far from reality, what could be couldn’t happen.
She lifted her head from his shoulder and looked over at him, eyes a bit wider than before and lips parted through means to say something - nothing ever came. “You told me three years ago you wanted to do that.” Quiet words answered her unspoken question and she sucked in a breath. She remembered telling him that vividly, could recall the day to a tee as it held importance to her.
It rained that day, poured down onto the street as they ran back to their shared apartment - a better one than what they had now. Steps taken hastily, hand in hand, as he practically dragged her through the downpour with a laugh. Both forgot an umbrella, so they ran through the rain getting more and more soaked with every step. It wasn’t far from their unit, the pair only went down the street to a convenience store. But the storm they tried to outrun inevitability caught up with them, so the leisurely walk back home turned to a sprint.
Upon their return, they found themselves sprawled out on their bedroom floor. Their clothes drenched from rain and water puddled onto the hardwood underneath them. A silly action, to lay on the floor wet. But neither minded as they giggled and laughed with one another, enjoying the other’s company.
Strawberry blonde hair stuck to his forehead and he raked a hand through it. A chuckle left his lips from an earlier conversation before he looked over at her once more, “if you could go anywhere in the world, where would you want to go?”
“What kind of question is that, Hiro?” A teasing tone laced within her cadence as she locked eyes with him. Bright and hopeful, full of love, and not an ounce of exhaustion swirling within them.
“One that I’m curious about, obviously, so indulge me.” The whimsy in his words was easily apparent, one of which she got used to quickly. And there was a sass in the timbre of his voice that muddled with care, a juxtaposition to his usual standalone brassiness.
“What’s yours?”
“This isn’t about me, it’s about you.”
He watched the woman smile before she averted her eyes to the ceiling, scrunched her brows in thought a moment before she looked at him once more. “Probably Ueno Park, in April, to see the cherry blossoms.”
“Are you serious? Anywhere in the world, and you want Tokyo?” He never looked away from the woman throughout the conversation, and when she met his gaze once more he smiled.
“Did you ask just to make fun of me, asshole?”
“No, god no.” He laughed, lips pulling into a silly smile before he took her hand in his own. “I’m just trying to figure out where I should ask you to marry me one day.”
The inescapable feeling of want consumed her, leaving nothing left behind as she was swallowed whole. A swirling sensation in her stomach that sickened her, made her ill to think about too long as all she could do was stare at him. “Takahiro.” Her words fell to a whisper as eyes flickered between his own, desperately trying to gauge the situation but to no avail. “You can’t be serious?”
“As a heart attack, sweetheart.” The smile he had started to falter, and the concern that saturated her eyes made his heart sink. But through that concern, the smallest, most miniscule, glimmer of need shone through. Even through tired, bloodshot eyes and a tinge of cynicism, she wanted the dream just as much as he, if not more.
“Hanamaki,” she breathed. “Be real for a second-” But she was cut off as he turned to face her, the old loveseat squeaking under the shift of weight, and he took her hands in his own
“I am being real, so put that name away.” Erring on defensive, put a care behind it that she couldn't ignore. A rare seriousness in his voice that made her swallow hard. “I’m taking you to see those damn cherry blossoms at some point, and when I do I'm asking you to marry me.”
She opened her mouth to say something but promptly shut it, not knowing what to say to the man. But she felt as the ravenous feeling turned to a starved, almost primal, one. Felt her stomach twist into knots at the thought - she wanted to swallow the notion completely. Needed to feel the crunch and snap of it in her mouth, wanted her teeth caught in it, needed it to be consumed until nothing was left. She abstained from could be for too long and needed to devour the concept entirely.
But could be wasn’t what is. What is left a bruise, tender and raw, that left a rotten taste in her mouth. She felt the urge to spit out the thought as it circled within her mind like a vulture, ready to dive within a split second. “But-”
“We will, I swear.” He cut off her protest and squeezed her hand. But to no avail, as she only looked at him with a sense of apprehension.
“But we're-”
“I know, I know,” he sighed. Brown eyes slid over to the envelopes on the coffee table, bold red letters catching his attention that made him close his eyes. “Believe me, I know.” A disheartening belief that caused him to take a deep breath before opening his eyes again to look at her. He brought a hand to her cheek, pale fingers gently brushed over her skin with a warmth that was inviting, loving, and selfless. He gave her a small, out of sorts, smile, “but I want to do this. For you. For us. Hell, because we deserve to do something nice. I want us to have something to look forward to other than the same, shit ass, walls everyday.”
She paused a moment, let his words sink in, before she bit down hard on the concept and refused to let go. “Ok,” she nodded carefully. “Alright, we’ll go to Ueno Park one day.” Could be tasted sweet and savory, mouth watering to think about. It eased a craving that deflected from what is - so just this once, she let herself free fall into it. “Do you even have a ring to ask me with?”
His smile pulled into a grin at her question, and he chuckled. “Would you say yes to a ring pop?”
With a paltry laugh, she leaned into his hand that was still on his cheek. “As long as it's strawberry, then absolutely, you dumbass.”
“Strawberry it is, sweetheart.”
However, he didn’t really need the sweet, confectionary ring. In one of the many old cardboard boxes within the living area and bedroom that collected dust - a particularly well kept, small box hidden in the back of their tiny, shared closet - was a ring he bought three years ago. Bought shortly after the conversation was had, when he still had the money to stretch. Stuffed between memories that would barely ever see the light of day, because a place like this didn't deserve such warmth.
But the warmth was willingly given anyway, whether the pair knew it or not.
series taglist (open, send an ASK) + a few moots bc I am genuinely very very very proud of this
@causenessus @softpia @renardiererin @kodzu-ken @phoenix-eclipses
@wyrcan @honeekyuu @wakashudou @wolffmaiden @eggyrocks
@dailyakira @cupidsblonde @mollyrolls @wolffmaiden @zumicho
@jadeoru @sandwhitches
#PT. 2 YK IT I CANNOT BE SILENCED TUMBLR I HATE YOU#i think we're both just making each other cry tonight dodger#obv i can't cry bc something is wrong with me but i think i teared up a little bit and that's basically crying atp for me#i can't tell you how much this fic means to me as well you should be so so proud of it#and the way that you described their home and the beginning and everything as well </3 omg#actual perfection dodger#literal perfection#them being too tired to even switch out of their clothes#the duct taped table#her eyes looking dull#ALL OF IT#oh my god#and i mean that all hits too bc now i'm living back at home (unfortunately) and it's just such a depression household#everything is such a mess#both my parents just work and they never see each other and they never have the time for chores#and i barely do so i do the dishes when i can and my own laundry#but like the tables are the mess#IDK THERE'S SO MUCH#and like yes right now i don't have someone to look forward to the future right now with#i don't have a love to keep me going#but this fic gives me hope tbh#i know love isn't everything or whatever but i know it's nice to have someone in your life and it can even be platonic whatever#but truly thank you for this dodger#and for giving me hope in the future again /gen#i cannot tell you how much this oneshot meant to me#how much it made me reflect on my own life because i could relate so much#and how i can also actually look forward to the future#OKAY NEW PLAN#WE BOTH PRINT OUT EACH OTHERS FICS AND ANNOTATE AND HIGHLIGHT THEM AND THEN EXCHANGE <3#BC I COULD ANNOTATE EVERYHTING HERE OMG
94 notes
·
View notes
Text
That AMA marks the end of Dragon Age.
In my opinion.
I'll start by saying that I have played all 3 of the previous games repeatedly, I've loved the series for 15 years, more than half my life. These games inspired me to become a writer and they've shaped a lot of my tastes and interests in shows and writing -- to say they were formative is kind of an understatement. Don't want to go on and on about how much I loved them, that's not the point here.
I didn't care for Veilguard for pretty much all of the reasons people have already discussed at length on Reddit and Tumblr. The writing is comprehensively bad, the romances are easily the worst Bioware has written by pure virtue of having the most cookie-cutter pacing and shallow characterization I've seen across their games, the lore has been shafted in every direction, and the nuanced storytelling and roleplay I came to expect from the series has been taken out back and shot in the head.
All, apparently, in the name of a "clean slate". It seems to me that, rather than familiarizing himself with the existing lore of the game he took the creative reins on, Epler clearly had a vision for Dragon Age (or perhaps a different IP entirely) in his head that he decided to transplant into the game (and possibly Trick? But they've said so little beyond defending their work that I can hardly theorize what direction they were coming from). That being a sanitized, wildly self-contradicting, morally absolute shitshow focused on distancing itself from the previous games as much as possible. Now, I know it's unrealistic to blame one person entirely, and I don't blame him entirely. Corinne was there. Trick was there.
But if it wasn't already evident from the numerous interviews Epler's given on the game as well as his participation in the Q&A's (while the actual lead writer of the game has been completely absent in not just the marketing, but in most fan-related interaction pre and post-launch outside of BSKY), this AMA seems to have confirmed, more than anything else, that Epler doesn't understand the game nor does he understand its audience. Neither does Corinne Busche, who despite being Game Director for only the last two years of development, has been answering lore questions a) like she has any fucking clue and b) like she thinks Dragon Age is a cozy-gamer IP, meant to appeal to people that want uplifting stories with uncontroversial characters, morally upright heroes, and unquestionably evil villains.
So as of today's AMA, I think I've finally had enough. We're just outright retconning the lore in Reddit AMA's now, I guess. Among other things. I'll provide a few examples, just so we're all on the same page.
This was part of Epler's response to why Solas didn't have his cult following in the game (insert "We Kind of Forgot" meme here):
Solas' experience leading the rebellion against the Evanuris turned him against the idea of being a leader. You see it in the memories - the entire experience of being in charge ate at him and, ultimately, convinced him he needed to do this on his own. And his own motivations were very different from the motivations of those who wanted to follow him - he had no real regard for their lives or their goals. So at some point between Trespasser and DATV, he severed that connection with his 'followers' and went back to being a lone wolf.
The fact that this (the not caring bit) directly contradicts the writing in the actual game is absolutely INSANE to me, moreso than the lack of Solas's spy network (which he apparently carried with him for 10 years only to conveniently drop right before the ritual? Because he clearly had them research Rook?). But in regards to the not caring -- here's a line from Solas's memory of killing Mythal in Veilguard, which. I'll get to Mythal in a minute:
Why should I not tear down the Veil, and bring back immortality to all the elven people? They deserve it!
Which is it? Does Solas care about the people he's saving (the venn diagram of people he's saving vs. the people following him is surely a circle, i.e. elves) or not? Does he even care about the spirits trapped behind the Veil anymore or is it just convenient to abandon them and have him only care about elves, now? What happened to saving The People? What happened to him not identifying as an elf in his conversations with a Dalish Inquisitor? And what the absolute fuck happened to him wanting to bring back the magical marvels (that the ancient elves did in fact achieve) that were greater than anything we see in Thedas today? Here's what Epler has to say about elven magic, now:
I do agree that the elves have had their place in the sun at this point. [...] The thing about the Evanuris is that, ultimately, they were able to take a very specific type of magic and shape it into doing what they wanted. But even their understanding of magic was only skin deep [...] Even the magic that Tevinter wields, the magic of the Southern mages, is different from what the Evanuris used. The magic of the Evanuris is powerful but it's sterile, and it's constrained. So while the Evanuris have made magic work in a way that's more predictable and understandable, it's not the only kind of magic out there, and even then, I'd say they understood it at a very surface level. People were confidently describing how the natural world worked back in the 16th century. Very few of them were right.
First of all, Tevinter has been stated in previous games to have clumsily adapted ancient elven magic for their own, but they did adapt it. To the point where even Solas is surprised that Corypheus achieved effective immortality -- by binding himself to a dragon the same way the Evanuris did. So, cool, more contradicting the lore here. "They understood it at a very surface level" you mean when all of the magic of the Fade wasn't locked behind the Veil? You mean when magic flowed freely through the world? What do you mean, Surface Fucking Level? The entire point of the Dalish elf culture is what they lost; this wasn't the ancient elves thinking the sun revolved around the earth, the Veil was their fucking Library of Alexandria burning. Oh my god. I still cannot believe he said this.
And how have the elves had their day in the sun? I'm sorry, was Arlathan not given to... the Veil Jumpers? Instead of the Dalish? What happened to all the Dalish clans in the south, who had no infrastructure when the world was apparently blighted to hell? I guess they're just gone now! They've had their day! The story of the Dalish and the Evanuris is over (also confirmed in this AMA), and it apparently ends with the final snuff of the candle that is their culture. Congratulations, Chantry, you've won! Only took two genocides and a double blight, but we're done with the Dalish now! We get your mind-numbingly superficial factions instead!
What happened to Mythal, by the way? What happened to "She was betrayed as I was betrayed, as the world was betrayed! Mythal clawed and crawled her way through the ages to me, and I will see her avenged!" What happened to the reckoning that will shake the very heavens? John's answer to this:
People grow and change over time. Mythal's essence - and in particular, the fragment of her spirit that Morrigan carries, that she got from Flemeth - is not the same Mythal who he knew millennia ago. Centuries of living in this world and being around the kinds of people Flemeth found herself around - the Hero of Ferelden, Hawke, the Inquisitor - changed her views, and made her realize her own culpability in turning Solas into the kind of person he is now.
Oh, right, okay. So she was pissed for like a thousand years, got her big speech about the impending "reckoning" out 10 years ago, and then she just chilled out because the last 3 heroes were neat people. What a fucking joke. And yes, here is the confirmation that the Evanuris story is over --
The story of the Evanuris is done - the gods are dead (or imprisoned) and Thedas is in a state of flux and uncertainty. I imagine that whatever happens next is going to be a surprise to everyone, including the people of Thedas."
So I guess Mythal's reckoning is never coming. One of the most fascinating characters in the series, shrouded in mystery for those first 3 games, PROMISING US a blaze of glory, only to fizzle out in this one. Again, and I can't emphasize this enough, for Epler's clean fucking slate. And we've not just tied up her story, but also the Veil and the Blight:
When Solas bound himself (or, depending on your ending, was forcibly bound) to the Veil, it severed the connection that the Blight had to the waking world. The reality is that the Veil has been leaking ever since the Magisters first entered the Black City, and the dreams of the Titans gave it its terrible and awesome power. Now that the Veil is fully repaired, the Blight lacks that motive force, and being so close to the epicenter of that change has stripped the Blight in Minrathous of its vitality. It's calcified now - dead - and Bellara/Neve no longer suffer its effects. If they'd been anywhere else, further from that epicenter, it would've likely been different and they still would be looking for a cure.
So the Veil is permanently fixed now because our half-dead Dread Wolf bound himself to it (a decision I still don't understand) and that somehow fixed every single hole ever poked in it. Fully repaired. No more holes, no more "Veil is thin here" because tons of people died in the same spot, nope, we're washing our hands and leaving it (and the spirits) behind us because we've wrapped up both the series-long Veil storyline and the blight storyline in a big red bow.
And Epler tells us Solas not only bound himself to the Veil but fixed it entirely in one fell swoop, no ritual required, just a little slice to the hand. Again, all in the name of a clean slate, so any future installments or media centered around Thedas can turn away from this story.
Then there's this. What we can expect from future installments, I freaking guess. The aforementioned roleplay getting taken out back and shot:
Q: "What lead you to the decision to step away from active conversations with the companions as in previous Bioware games, where you can initiate them at any moment and ask exhaustive questions?"
John: "For us, because of tech limitations, it became a choice between exhaustive investigate conversations, or letting the companions move more freely around the Lighthouse. With the kind of experience we were going for, one where seeing the team grow around you is paramount, we felt that seeing them interact in common spaces (and in each other's rooms) made more sense."
Literally confirmed that they chose companions moving freely about the cabin over ... interacting with them outside the handful of cutscenes we got. Who in their right mind would think this was a good call in a Dragon Age game? A series that quite literally prides itself on complex character interactions and storytelling? So they could... sit in different places? Are you kidding me?
They don't see an issue with the game's reception. They don't have any interest in addressing or responding to criticism. They're either happy with their choices or EA's got a gun pointed at their heads, I'm honestly not sure anymore. I used to believe the latter was true, but looking at both Epler's and Busche's responses today, I'm inclined to believe the former.
So I think that's it for the series. Not that I thought it was going to get another game after this, but on the absolute off chance it did, what would be the point? The best stories were ruined. Anything left they have to tell is going to read a lot like Veilguard -- superficial, morally absolute, flagrantly disrespectful to the lore, and delivered in a very poorly written package.
#bioware critical#dragon age critical#veilguard critical#veilguard spoilers#dragon age the veilguard critical#dragon age#dragon age the veilguard
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
Actually, I think this does link in with a wider conversation that I have been thinking for a while Tumblr maybe needs to hear.
There's a common meme on this site now that no one here has any reading comprehension skills. The best one is, of course, the original "No offense but reading comprehension on this site is piss poor/How dare you say we piss on the poor" post, which gave rise to the nickname "pissing-on-the-poor website". There's also the "I like pancakes/How dare you say waffles are terrible" one. Both of these are great, because they're silly jokey ways to show two closely related phenomena that are probably the commonest ways to fail a reading comprehension check.
The first is someone reading certain catchphrases or buzzwords in the post, and based on their own biases or prior experiences or whatever else, their brain simply fills in what it reckons the poster is saying on the topic. Instead of reading the rest of the sentence and digesting it, the reader then just uses their assumption as the interpretation, and reacts to that.
The second is closely related, because it also uses biases and prior experiences to to interpret the post, but rather than ignoring what the OP is actually saying, it instead performs a series of gymnastic leaps to construct a whole new assertion on the OP's behalf that simply isn't there.
There's also a third, of course; that one is people being so eager to feel smug and superior over someone they perceive as Bad that they wilfully assume the OP is stupid or being serious when they're actually joking. And if the reader hadn't been so blinded by their desire to get to look down on someone, they'd have seen the very obvious tells, sometimes even including sentences like "Obviously this is a joke." (I think we have all seen examples of these. Also, in a bid to avoid as many reading comprehension fails here as possible, this does not include misunderstandings borne entirely of neurodiverse struggles to parse intentions; but, neurodiverse people are just as likely as neurotypicals to have ego play a part in their misinterpretation of others, and that is what this point is about.)
And the thing is... actually, we are all capable of any of these. I imagine a sizable chunk of people reading until this point were probably thinking "Lol, yeah, people are so stupid," but na, nage, I'm not having that. Literally everyone does these sometimes. And it becomes a particular risk when the topic under discussion is something that might brush against an issue that is a pressure point for you, like a social justice talking point that you are forever having to argue with internet strangers about, for example. Your brain holds schemas! And sometimes it likes to pattern match things before it deigns to tell you about its findings! And that can hit you right in the emotions, which if they are strong enough, really can shut down all rational thought.
But. This brings me to the real point of the post.
Because the thing is, we have all saddled up and gone to war under these conditions, or at the very least been strongly tempted to. And a vital skill that literally everyone has to learn, sooner or later, is:
Before you hit 'reply', double check the post to make sure you fucking understood it.
And that does not mean "simply re-read, confirm your bias, carry on." It means, "Is it possible to read this post from the point of view of someone who doesn't intend it the way I've taken it? If I put myself in the shoes of an innocent, could they still have written these words? Is there another interpretation for these phrases?"
And you do have to do this step. You simply do have to. Because if your desire is to 'clap back' and call someone a gargling knobskin made of garbage, fuck me sideways but you must see that it is imperative that you check if they actually deserve that kind of treatment first. You cannot spend your time claiming that we must all choose to be kind and then not bother doing your due diligence before screaming a person's various and assorted bigotries at them. If you misread it, and they were innocent - you are the raging aggressive cunt in this situation.
It does not matter that you reacted from an emotional place of normally having to defend yourself either, by the way. Sure, that makes the quality of your human soul better than that of the average Redditor who just enjoys anonymously hurting people, I guess? But it's also irrelevant. If you messaged someone and called them a misogynist because you performed several mental somersaults and landed on your own sore spot when they meant no such thing, you are the attacker. You owe them an apology. And yeah, sure, you can explain your over-reaction as the product of your normal experiences if you like, but that is only an explanation, not an excuse. You are still the asshole here. You still need to apologise and mean it.
And you could have avoided it if you'd done that due diligence, as you should have. If you're going to take a swing, make sure it's the right target. This was once described to me as donkey people - they don't think, they just kick. This is admittedly a little unkind to donkeys, who always do their due diligence, but I feel it's an apt metaphor.
TL;DR: If you feel moved to angrily reply to something, first make sure you've interpreted it right. Don't be a donkey person. And if you ask for clarification, people are innocent until proven guilty. Ask nicely. If they are a bigot, you can then smelt them for parts.
#I reckon anyway#mileage may vary I suppose#but this has certainly made my life a lot happier to stop assuming everyone was attacking me#and to stop getting into pointless fights with no good or satisfying ending#this has been this week's Gospel According to Elanor
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
Just fair warning- I said on my personal post about this that I wasn't going to talk about Neil Gaiman anymore, but as it's becoming clear that him and his publishers and anyone else who makes money off of him is circling the wagons and trying to bury these allegations, as well as some fans still defending and trying to 'rationalize' this information, I feel like, actually, we need to keep talking about him (as much as I cannot stand him and feel physically disgusted now when I so much as see his face somewhere). Specifically, the fact that he's a liar, master manipulator and should not, under any circumstances, be given access to his fans like he has in the past. At the very least. (And if you need to blacklist his name or even unfollow me so as to not be triggered, I completely understand, but I will always try to tag these posts accordingly and I think it's crucial right now that the truth be put where people can see)
This post specifically is in response to those 'rationalizations' I've seen, some that have gone as far as to blame the young fans/groupies that hooked up with him for being 'golddiggers' or just making a mountain out of a molehill for something they now regret. It's not that simple, yall. (And, again, this requires some amount of completely ignoring the story about him extorting his tenant for sex under threat of eviction of her and her three young children, I'm not sure how you 'rationalize' that under the best of circumstances)
So let's be clear here. What we know is that NG has routinely, for possibly an upwards of 30 years, pulled sexual 'partners' from his fan groups, most of whom are 18-22 year old young women (though possibly younger, accounts are coming forward of 16 year olds having allegedly been inappropriately touched/flirted/propositioned by him, which ig is the age of consent in the UK but still?? 16 year olds!!). This wasn't one or two times in the course of three decades, this was a constant pattern of behavior for him and for a very insidious reason.
This isn't to try to infantilize those fans or young women/young people in general or try to suggest that they couldn't have consented to sex with an older person or famous person. In fact, the onus isn't on them at all. This is about an older guy with a lot of fame, power and wealth choosing to sleep with people that he had already conditioned to idolize him and using that power imbalance to coerce them into doing things they didn't want to.
Regardless of one's age or gender identity, it can be difficult to impossible to say 'no' to someone like that. After all, you've been 'chosen' by the chosen one, you're special and not like everyone else, and if you don't do what the popular person everyone trusts is telling you to do you could end up ostracized. Alienated. Or worse. And you know what? Gaiman knew that! He knew it when he was crafting his 'approachable dad' persona on tumblr. He knew it when he was cultivating a fandom of personality. He knew it when he was having huge meetups to try to ensnare more victims. I hate to even think it, but I'm starting to believe he knew it when he was writing children's books too.
It's been talked about again and again in separate issues, but needless to say something not being strictly illegal does not make it inherently, morally okay. It does not erase the fact that this man has been essentially grooming his fandom to feel safe meeting/speaking with him so he can coerce those he can snare into sexual acts they're not comfortable with. That is predator behavior, whether strictly 'illegal' in the eyes of a court or not (but ofc I think he should be criminally punished even if I'm not naive enough to think he actually will be, because this IS rape and rape should be criminally punished)
I'm not personally advocating for anyone to give up being in his related fandoms, but what I am personally advocating for is that people don't forget who he is and what he's capable of, especially when he tries to crawl back to where he was (I'm almost certain he will eventually, as I've said).
Again, at the very least, we need to use what little influence we do have to keep him from infiltrating fan spaces again. He should not be on tumblr yukking it up with young people, he should not be at public appearances hitting on teenagers, he should not be given the unrestricted access to fans that he's 'enjoyed' for the past 30+ years because he is not a safe person. While I wish there was more in the way of restorative justice that could be done, I think at very, very least we should do what we can to limit his proximity to people he could hurt in the future. Make sure no one forgets, because sweeping this under the rug means Gaiman gets to hurt more people.
Lastly, no one is the wrong for having been manipulated by him. Let's make that very clear. What we're NOT gonna do is blame ourselves, each other, the victims, etc, for evil acts that Gaiman chose to do himself, time and time and time again. It doesn't help the situation and it certainly doesn't protect future potential victims. We were all duped because we're human and we attach and a lot of us want to believe there are good people out there, particularly those who make art that means so much to us.
And there are. But let's also use this a teaching/learning tool about how much faith we place in famous people in the future, regardless of how 'approachable' and 'safe' they might seem. Let's remember to have a healthy suspicion of creators/famous people that are oddly immersed in fandom spaces- yes, even the ones you still currently like that seem fine, as difficult as that may seem.
At the end of the day, we don't know them or what they're capable of doing or what they might be plotting to do to us. Support victims. Amplify their voices. Don't forget.
#neil gaiman#tw neil gaiman#tw sa#tw victim blaming#neil gaiman allegations#ya actually im not gonna shut up about this#bc that's exactly what he wants#fuck off into the sun forever
2K notes
·
View notes
Note
"you, specifically, are a bad and evil person that all my posts are written to condemn" this is not what i said. i'm sorry for not being clearer. i just feel like everyone in this space, not just you, look down on people who live in the first world as people who willingly don't change anything about how the world works when it's just not that simple. i know you all love to combat this and say otherwise but it will never change the simple reality that for some people it really is very hard, if not impossible, to do anything politically, for a variety of reasons. i'm disabled, i live in a remote part of the country, and i'm bad at talking to people. i don't have the money to just move to a population center or get lessons on how to speak to people. i can't do anything and i feel like every time you or one of the other communists on tumblr talks about the imperial core, i feel like i, personally, am being held to an unreasonable standard that i would not hold anyone else to, if i were in one of your situations. obviously i want things to change. i don't want genocide to be a thing that's constantly happening, i don't want my country to have its tendrils dug into every other country, i want socialism and eventually global communism, and if i could do anything meaningful-- anything at all-- to achieve those goals i would be working on that. but right now that just is not the case for me, and i feel like i'm not alone in that either. i just wish you had like a smidgen of empathy for some of the people living here who don't fit into your stereotype of what a member of the imperial core looks like-- i'm not even trying to say that sarcastically, it genuinely feels like you all don't see us as human. like nyanguard especially seems to think of us as incapable of saving ourselves, and one of the reblogs to my first ask just said they "like to imagine that (i'm) crying as i type this". how am i supposed to react to that? is this how all of you feel about people like me? would your feelings about me change if i lived in another country, or would you find some other excuse to talk down to me? is it really just the country i live in that's the problem, here? i'm not trying to accuse you, i'm asking this question genuinely.
i know it's tempting to respond to this with a snarky comment but please just try to understand where i am coming from. i really am willing to help if i can.
i don't think any marxist seriously has a political theory of imperialism that amounts to "citizens of the imperial core simply choose not to do anything because they are all individually bad people". i mean the whole point of marxism is that economic relations are the ultimate drivers of historical change, not abstract psychological or moral qualities of people.
i'm sympathetic to your situation! the imperial core is a very atomizing place to live, and there are places and situations where there's just no practical path to getting organized and taking meaningful political action in the near future. however, your problem here is:
i feel like i, personally, am being held to an unreasonable standard that i would not hold anyone else to
nobody is posting about you, personally. like at the end of the day you have to learn to either not take posts like that personally or just block everyone who makes them to manage your own time on the computer vis a vis niceness--i don't think it's the responsibility of me or any other communist to constantly provide asterisks and carveouts that we're not talking about the Good Ones Who Have Extenuating Circumstances when we talk about the usa and its material political base.
& in the same way that you ask for empathy for your situation i would ask you to extend a level of understanding to people whose homelands and countrymen and communities have been devastated by US coups and sanctions and invasions, that they have as much a right to express the rage and fury and hurt of that cultural legacy as you do to express your own sadness about your own situation. imagine, for example, how you would feel if your grandparents could not reliably get medicine because of us sanctions. & of course the correct target for these feelings are not random usamericans--but these posts are also not serious politcal platforms, they are venting from people who live their lives under the weight of empire.
if you think what they're saying is unfair to you, then you need to develop the ability to say 'well, i understand why they would feel that way' and move on. like i understand why you are upset, and i don't say this to be dismissive, but as real advice: it is not fair (especially to bloggers from the global south) to essentially rest your happiness and self-worth at their feet and demand that they validate you.
genuinely, i hope this helps. it's all i really have to say on the matter.
680 notes
·
View notes
Text
It really is that damn phone (a rant)
(written nov 18th, 2024)
I was in my bed-rotting, depressed, don’t know what to do with my life nor do I care era up until this morning. And I’m starting to think it’s the people around me bc as soon as I’m not at work, I’m suddenly the most productive person ever.
I’ve been on a mission to become that dream version of myself (which for me requires some physical effort on my part) and shifting and I realized- wait the diff between the dream ver of myself and my dr self only have like slight physical differences. But overall, same mindset, same boundaries, standards & morals. Same person on the inside.
So I thought why make a big deal out of this stuff? Why make a big deal out of being in your dr physically. Stay with me now. Like I try to think of things to do and how to behave and react to stay aligned with my desired self which.. I think I try too hard and it ultimately burns me out. So then I have no discipline to continue- just little sparks of motivation every once in a while.
I’ve realized I feel most at peace when I let things flow without trying too hard. Like when I journal or have inner monologues, sometimes I think—why not shift my awareness to my DR? And suddenly, it feels so natural. Lately, I’ve been focusing on just moving my awareness there instead of worrying about proof or the physical. It’s really just about letting myself tune in, no overthinking needed. Of course, this can still be tricky sometimes (I get sidetracked a lot), but that’s exactly why I started this blog—to explore and share the process as I go.
Anyways, back to the title. It’s that damn phone. THIS IS WHY I SAY GET HOBBIES. I came off Tumblr—I’m not on it as much as I used to be. I queue up my posts when I find something I want to share, then I just focus on me. That’s why I love meditation. Because meditation can be anything. What I just said about inner monologues? You don’t even have to call that meditation—I don’t, most of the time. It’s just about shifting your awareness, and that can happen in a moment. No need for a long process. Just a shift in focus, and suddenly, you’re right where you want to be. I only recently started to grasp that actually.
My last shifting attempt. I’m gonna put the video for what I did and I felt soo close to my dr (the one I had back then) and like it just in reach of my fingertips until it wasn’t. I panicked I freaked out, I lost all hope and inspiration and I had no discipline because I thought “oh shit what do I gotta do now? Do I have to do something now? How do I do this more? How do I get this feeling more? Like what.. what to do… um shit..” and I never got close to that dr ever again. And I hate methods so.. imagine how shocked I felt.
Shaysplanett on TikTok (@shaysplanet)
And then I never tried again, yk why? We get comfortable, we get distracted by the 3D and suddenly we’re forgetting we have desires and we wanna shift to different places
I used to hate reblogging a lot of LOA posts at a time because this community is just things we already know repeated over and over and over again. I also thought to myself.. hm.. what could I post (loa-related) on this blog? And I couldn’t come up with shit. Because it’s nothing new. Law of assumption is nothing new. It’s just recycled shit over and over put in different, pretty words so more people would understand it properly but I think we understand and we’re just not applying. But yet here I am making this post: saying what we know already (and I probably will keep doing that bc it’s how I remind myself)
yeah.
All of this to say what we’ve all heard a million times before: you don’t wanna be thinking too hard about your desire and then end up being consumed by negative thoughts of not having your desire. The more time you spend scrolling and reading about loa and shifting, the most pressure you put on yourself and you miss the one thing you have to do: change your assumption/move your awareness. If you come to the point that you’re spiraling, STOP. Take a breath. Remind yourself that everything is going to be great. Do something else.
(posting this bc i plan to actually take a break from tumblr and finally listen to myself. if you see posts, its bc they're queued. hopefully i actually take the break this time. ps i think im starting to move away from looking at shifting solely from a loa standpoint)
#cherubofthenight#divine feminine energy#loassumption#loa#law of assumption#affirmations#loa rant#shifting#shifting blog#reality shifting#shifting community#shifting motivation#shiftblr#loablr#divider by fairytopea
691 notes
·
View notes
Text
UNSCRIPTED — toji fushiguro x female reader [chapter 1/5]
summary: you’re a faceless author of scandalous smut — great at writing steamy scenes but totally clueless about real-life romance (and with no one to match your freak). enter toji fushiguro, a hot stranger you (accidentally) throw up on during a drunken night out. surprise! he’s also the future voice actor for your smutty novel’s main character. can you survive the awkwardness of your disastrous meet-cute while keeping your identity (and dignity) a secret? welcome to the chaos of your own erotic fantasy romcom!
content warning & tags: (erotic) voice artist! toji, (smut) writer! reader, smutty content!! [will be added over the course of the series], sort of workplace romance, secret/anon identity, slight social media au, meet-cute, virgin!reader, single dad dilf! toji, kid! megumi, strangers to lovers (?), she fell first but he fell harder, mentions of other characters (satoru gojo, suguru geto, megumi fushiguro, shoko eiri, brief mentions of ryomen sukuna)
notes: hi friends !! wow, been a hot min since i wrote something of this caliber. feels good to be back in biz ;D did you all miss persephone! suguru? because there's a LOT of him here >_< i really wanted to publish this as a oneshot but....tumblr hates me so now it's gonna be a chaptered series! oh , joy! ps @nappingmoon i got u bae, this one is for you.
read on ao3! ● series masterlist
➤ related au: persephone [business tycoon! sukuna x reader]
you never really set out to be the face of smut-lit.
in fact, you weren’t even really a face at all — just a “faceless” author penning scandalous stories for fans who devoured them, and haters who, well… tried to eat you alive.
you’d started out innocently enough, scribbling down your little fantasies and tropes that no self-respecting romance book would touch. then one day, a friend dared you to post one on booktok.
you thought, "fuck it" and uploaded a snippet of your latest brainchild: a steamy billionaire x star-crossed chef fic called hunger games: not that kind of hungerer. it was, admittedly, extra spicy.
and oh, did the internet have thoughts.
soon, your comments section and dm’s became a battleground for all opinions on “what qualifies as literature.” gems included:
who even writes this crap? did a middle schooler steal her mom’s laptop? i can feel my brain cells self-destructing as i read this 💀 girl hasn’t even been within a mile radius of a dick and it SHOWS
you'd had to admit… the last comment was right. but hey, they only added to the fuel.
like moths to a flame, they kept coming back, and the trolling just made your followers skyrocket. a lot of people secretly liked the outrageousness, the drama, and the absolute audacity of it all. before long, your books were trending, and you were raking in numbers (and dollars) most “serious” authors could only dream of.
soon, you found yourself the subject of headlines you never thought you’d see:
the faceless queen of spice: how one unknown author is reshaping romance. trolled online, loved in secret—author sells millions in ebook downloads. social media says she has no idea what she’s talking about, but her bank account says otherwise.
and the kicker?
you’d never had sex with anyone, let alone…well, rocked worlds like your characters.
here you were, a smut writer with zero real-life experience, who’d single-handedly created booktok’s, bookstagram and hell, even the people down at twitter's guilty pleasure.
but the day big publishers started knocking on your door, it was surreal, to say the least.
you’d been fully prepared for the anonymous online fame — hell, you’d leaned into it, posting “faceless author life” videos and doing question and answer sessions where you dropped zero identifying details, save for some vague hand gestures and blurred-out backgrounds. but now, major publishing houses wanted in on the action.
“we think your stories have broad market appeal,” one exec had said on a zoom call, trying to make “billionaire mafia love quadrangle” sound dignified. “if we could get them on shelves, we’d reach an audience beyond booktok. international appeal is the goal here!”
suddenly, your filthy, albeit occasionally cringey, tales were going global. they got translated into french (where your enemies-to-lovers series got a fancy new title: l’amour et la haine). your spicy chef saga was reborn in italian as sapore di te, which roughly translated to taste of you (and made you blush, honestly).
and when your personal favorite, the billionaire’s forbidden touch, hit the japanese market, they titled it 禁断の夜 (which… you didn’t even want to know the translation of, because you knew it was even worse than the original).
you had to admit, though, seeing these books spread worldwide made your head spin. what started as a joke online was now somehow sitting next to classics in international bookstores, becoming a hot commodity for fans everywhere.
but the cherry on top?
oh, that came when you opened an email from none other than gojo-sonic, the world-renowned audio company best known for its highly specialized audiobook recordings. they’d taken smut literature to the next level, hiring voice actors who sounded like they were in the room with you, all breathy whispers and seductive baritones. people had raved that these audiobooks were “too real” — like they’d been recorded in a closed room with dim lights and a whole lot of… commitment.
they offered you a multi-million dollar deal to turn your books into experiences.
one of your friends, absolutely losing it, texted you as soon as they heard the news:
homegirl [5:21 pm]: “OMG OMG so you’re gonna do it right?? u realize this means ppl will be hearing ur lil virgin brain’s fantasies out loud in their headphones right” you [5:21 pm]: “no kidding. i’m freaking out. this feels illegal.” homegirl [5:22 pm]: “but u gotta!! pls this is ICONIC.” you [5:24 pm]: “they’re giving me millions. you think i’m saying no? lmao.”
it still felt surreal that soon, the whole world would hear your books come to life with professional voice actors — ones who knew exactly how to tease and breathe and make listeners feel like they were right there.
“bring my fantasies to life, huh?” you muttered to yourself, flipping through the contract that would secure your financial future, all because of your fictional men and their, uh, moves.
who the hell were you to say no to that?
it was surreal enough to get an email from gojo-sonic, but now, sitting across from the ceo himself, gojo satoru, you were starting to wonder if this whole experience was some fever dream.
the man was stunning in an obnoxious, immaculate way. snowy hair, piercing blue eyes, and sunglasses balanced on his head like a headband. and, okay, you had to admit: it was a little weird that he’d named his company after himself — though, frankly, it just fit.
you tried not to laugh when he introduced himself. gojo satoru, ceo of gojo-sonic. the narcissism was off the charts, but so was his charm. as a quick google search before the meeting had revealed, gojo sonic had an impeccable reputation, and there was apparently not a single scandal tied to its name.
“nice to meet you,” you said, shaking his hand and trying to keep your cool. “kinda surprised a guy is running a… company like this. no offense.”
“none taken!” he replied, leaning back in his chair with an easy grin. “if i’m honest, i’m probably the last guy anyone would expect here. but,” he shrugged, “it works. my employees say i’m a ‘girl’s girl,’ whatever that means.”
the way he said it so nonchalantly made you smirk. apparently, the term wasn’t a throwaway nickname, either; the gojo-sonic gossip mill painted him as the absolute dream boss. rumor had it he’d given his whole office a free day off because his assistant had been dumped, and when a writer complained about unisex bathrooms making her uncomfortable, he’d personally had a “feminine touch” added to every single stall, complete with pink hand soap and luxurious lotions. he was kind, considerate, a man who just got it.
“people say i’m probably gay,” he added, laughing as if that was the most absurd thing he’d ever heard. “and you know what? let ‘em think what they want.” he gave you a wink. “as long as they keep buying the goods, i couldn’t care less.”
honestly? the guy made a point. did it matter who he was taking home at the end of the day? not at all, as long as your bank account kept racking up zeros.
“speaking of,” he continued, “we’ve got the full studio ready for tomorrow. you’ll meet the voice actors, go over a few sections, and give input as needed. think of it like a live theater production, except it’s your book.”
“oh, i get to… watch them record?” you asked, wondering how mortifying it might be to sit there, watching actors give their all to lines like, “you’re mine tonight, darling.”
yeah, you’d written it, but watching someone breathe life into it was a different level of… embarrassment.
“even better,” gojo grinned, looking far too amused by your nervousness, “you’ll get to guide them. they’ll take direction from you — however you want the line delivered, that’s how they’ll say it.”
“you mean i can… like… make suggestions? on delivery?”
“exactly!” he said with a small clap. “we want it to be perfect. i’ve already arranged for our top voice actor, toji fushiguro, to voice your main character.”
toji fushiguro?
if gojo-sonic was the industry’s top company, toji was the crown jewel of voice acting. the guy was a legend.
he had that smoky, velvet tone that could turn a mundane grocery list into a full-on romance scene. he was also notoriously elusive; some people waited months to get him to even consider their projects. and you — the virgin author who’d stumbled into fame thanks to trolls and booktok — had him voicing your main character?
“wait, toji fushiguro is doing this?” you asked, jaw practically on the floor.
gojo chuckled, looking far too pleased with your reaction. “yep! i think you two are going to work great together. he’s intense but flexible; really good at taking feedback.”
you tried to imagine giving feedback to toji fushiguro of all people.
“um, maybe say ‘you’re mine’ with more… conviction?”
“can you sound a bit more possessive on that line?”
“i, uh…” you managed, trying to swallow your nerves. “okay. yeah. sounds… good.”
“great! i think you’ll be amazed. toji’s professionalism is unmatched, and he’ll bring exactly the level of…” Gojo paused, grinning, “intensity you need to really make your character come to life.”
“good luck tomorrow! i’ll make sure everything’s set up perfectly,” gojo had assured you with a big grin as you left the office. “don’t stress about a thing. our identities are always kept top secret here. toji’s included! he’s never done a face reveal, and your privacy is just as ironclad.”
oh god. tomorrow, you were really going to sit there while toji fushiguro acted out lines you’d written on a whim in your pajamas.
sure, not stressing sounded like a logical plan. but after that surreal conversation — and the realization that tomorrow morning, you’d be face-to-face with the one and only toji fushiguro, hearing him breathe life into your raunchiest fantasies — you did what any responsible, mature adult would do.
you headed straight to the nearest bar and got sloshed.
by the time you were three cocktails deep, the reality of tomorrow’s “firsts” hit you like a ton of bricks. first real direction on an audiobook, first time meeting a voice actor, first time dealing with your own steaminess out loud, and — oh god — the cherry on top, it was toji fushiguro himself.
sure, you thought, sipping from your fourth drink and trying not to scream as lana del rey sings “it’s you, it’s you, it’s all for you,” i might be slightly freaking out.
another cocktail slid your way. you squinted, unsure if you'd ordered it or if the bartender was just reading your general mood, because yeah, you did look like someone who needed another round.
“tough night?”
“tough tomorrow.” you swirled your drink, laughing to yourself. “i mean… you ever written a, uh, totally inappropriate novel and had to watch a famous guy turn it into audio?”
“…can’t say that i have.”
you shrugged, downing a bit more of the drink, when the song on the speakers switched to avril lavigne’s complicated. fitting, given that your life had just become exactly that.
“why’d you have to go and make things so complicated?” avril sang, like she knew.
the bartender, apparently used to the types who showed up for existential crises alone, leaned against the counter. “sounds like big stuff tomorrow, then. what kind of work do you do, anyway?”
“oh, just… smutty novels,” you said, letting it slip before you could stop yourself. “just… page after page of absolutely shameless, absurd filth. and now i’m, y’know, supposed to direct the guy. to make it sound like he’s really, um, in the moment.”
the bartender chuckled, raising a brow. “sounds intense.”
“you have no idea.” you sighed, rubbing a hand over your face. “he’s this insanely talented voice actor. i mean, they’ve got toji fushiguro in there, which is like… god. if he knew who i actually was, he’d probably laugh.”
why’d you have to go and make things so complicated? avril continued wailing, her words your accidental anthem.
“well, whatever happens,” the bartender said, passing you a glass of water with a grin, “sounds like you’re about to have a pretty interesting morning.”
“i’ll drink to that,” you muttered, clinking your cocktail glass against the water. you downed it, hoping that somehow, it might chase the nerves away.
and as everytime we touch, i get this feeling started blasting on the speakers, you couldn’t help but shake your head with a groan. if there was a playlist made for romantic embarrassment, it was definitely playing tonight.
in your half-sloshed state, it seemed like a good idea to turn to the stranger who’d just sauntered up to the bar — a ridiculously hot stranger, tall with dark hair, and a scar slashing right across his lip. it was the kind of look that would’ve inspired an entire chapter in one of your books, but as of right now? it was just inspiring some truly regrettable choices.
“goodness gracious, great balls of fire,” you muttered to yourself, just loud enough to catch his attention, which felt smooth, in your totally buzzed opinion. so, of course, you swung around on your stool, plastering on what you hoped was an alluring smile.
oh god, here we go. “hey there, handsome…” you paused, hiccuping “… you come here often?”
the stranger raised an eyebrow, clearly amused, leaning an elbow against the bar with a smirk that could kill. “depends,” he said, voice low and rough. “you, uh, always this friendly after a few drinks?”
oh god.
oh god.
but you couldn’t stop now.
you were committed.
you were bold.
with all the poise of a drunk giraffe, you propped your elbow on the bar and leaned in closer, pointing a finger at his chest — totally unintentionally, because your depth perception was off by, oh, about a mile. “well, what can i say,” you replied, attempting a sultry grin. “good-lookin’ guys like you… don’t come around often enough, mister.”
“it’s like i’m drunk off your love,” played from the speakers, not helping your case at all.
oh god, this was actually happening.
he actually laughed, a warm, deep chuckle, as he watched you struggle through whatever pickup line was about to escape your lips.
he tilted his head, that smirk turning up a notch. “should i be flattered?”
“you should!” you exclaimed, with a bit too much enthusiasm. “you’re like… i dunno, like one of my… you look like a… a fictional character.”
smooth, real smooth.
“oh yeah?” his smirk widened. “so, what am i, a prince?”
“more like…” you bit your lip, trying to focus, “an antihero with a… tragic past and just enough softness in his heart to make him dangerous in all the right ways.”
he looked you up and down, bemusement clear in his eyes. “dangerous in the right ways? is that your type?”
you gave a shaky wink, nearly missing because the world was swimming a bit. “maybe.”
he chuckled, his voice all rich and velvety, and leaned in closer. “so… you’re here alone? i mean, besides all the fictional men you’re envisioning.”
“for now,” you replied, trying to sound mysterious, but it just came out as a bit… wobbly.
the bartender set the stranger’s drink down with a raised eyebrow, and he took a sip, watching you with amused interest. “you know, maybe you should slow down before you scare all the good guys away.”
“oh, trust me,” you replied, hiccuping again. “i don’t scare easy.”
he shook his head, clearly entertained, and you felt yourself glowing under his gaze. you were about to continue — just as soon as the world stopped spinning — when you felt the slightest bit queasy, your stomach reminding you that you’d had one cocktail too many.
the stranger’s amused smirk softened. “you alright there?”
“i’m…” you swallowed. “perfectly fine. just, you know… making sure you’re… getting the full effect of my…” you barely managed the word “…rizz.”
he laughed outright this time, low and warm, like he genuinely couldn’t believe you were real. “is that so? lucky me.”
it was all going so well — okay, not well, but you were holding your own, kind of. you had him laughing, after all, which for someone with approximately zero charisma was an accomplishment! but then the first chords of firework by katy perry blared through the speakers, and as if on cue, your stomach decided to join in the grand finale.
“do you ever feel like a plastic bag,” katy crooned, but for you, it was more like a “do you ever feel like you’re about to ruin your night by barfing on a hot stranger?”
before you could process what was happening, the tequila-fueled fireworks decided to erupt all over this guy’s very expensive-looking shoes.
oh god. oh god.
you looked up, mortified, to find him staring down at his shoes, eyebrows raised. wow, would you look at the time?
run.
“oh… oh no. i… i’m so sorry, i swear this never happens.”
he raised a brow, still looking somewhere between amused and horrified. “well, that’s… comforting?”
you grabbed a napkin, fumbling, still buzzing enough to not know if you should laugh, cry, or just make a run for it.
“guess that’s, uh, one way to make an impression,” he murmured, lips twitching in a smirk even as he assessed the disaster on his shoes.
“oh god. really, i’m… i’m so sorry.” you dabbed helplessly at his shoes with a cocktail napkin, somehow making things worse. “if it helps, i… i normally only vomit on hot guys.”
he chuckled, though you were sure it was mostly at you, and shook his head. “well, it’s one hell of an icebreaker.”
“baby, you’re a firework,” katy sang passionately in the background, but you were already ready to crawl under the bar and disappear forever.
you were surprised — actually, you were shocked — that the stranger hadn’t ditched you after the whole public-vomiting-on-his-shoes fiasco. instead, somehow, he was still right there, leaned in close and casually sipping his drink, just as much a mess as you were. hours had passed, and you’d been rambling about anything and everything, lost in an alcohol-fueled bubble that had turned the night into something you’d never have dreamed of.
maybe it was the booze, or maybe it was the guy’s ridiculously calm attitude, but you’d opened up about your career, the absurdity of writing spicy novels as a faceless author, and even your terror about tomorrow. he’d listened with a smirk, offering the occasional snarky remark or grunt of approval. in return, he’d told you a bit about himself too — well, at least, you thought he did. at some point, the details got hazy.
“so, what do you do?” you asked, squinting at him like it was going to make his face stop swimming in your vision.
he shrugged, swirling his drink and giving a lopsided grin. “something kinda like… acting. you know, nothing glamorous.” there was a hint of amusement there, like he was in on a joke you weren’t.
you squinted harder, your mind pulling up images of random professions. “oh, so like… theater? or like, movies? or wait — commercials? are you one of those guys that has to pretend he’s in love with a bowl of soup?”
he let out a deep laugh, and the sound sent an unexpected shiver down your spine. “sure, something like that. though i’d like to think i’m a bit more convincing than a soup guy.”
you grinned, leaning in closer, your curiosity fully piqued despite your state. “convincing, huh? so you’re a good actor, then?”
“i do my best,” he said, voice low, that amused glint in his eye again.
“you have to be really good to make people believe in, like, totally unrealistic things, y’know?” you babbled, waving your hand. “like, imagine trying to voice —” you cut yourself off, feeling a hint of embarrassment as you remembered why you’d gotten so sloshed in the first place. the irony of tomorrow, and how this entire conversation felt like it was straight out of one of your own stories.
but before you could get too in your head about it, he tilted his head, looking genuinely interested. “voice what? i’m curious, princess.”
princess. the nickname sent a bolt of something dangerously warm straight through you, and you bit your lip to keep from smiling too wide. “oh, nothing…” you said, waving him off. “just, you know… the usual. people who… um, make people fall in love with their voice.”
“and what if i told you,” he leaned in even closer, smirking as if he’d just had the best idea ever, “that i could probably do that?”
you rolled your eyes, not believing him one bit. “oh really? think you could pull it off?”
“depends,” he said with a shrug. “what kinda character am i playing?”
you didn’t realize it, but you’d inched even closer, like you were hanging on his every word. “someone… someone rough around the edges,” you started, your voice dropping, completely lost in the moment, “but with a softness underneath. someone who could make the world stop with just a whisper…”
he smirked, eyes never leaving yours, and for a second, you felt like he was taking every word way too seriously. “i think i could manage that.”
you blinked, feeling a blush rise.
this stranger had charisma — like, the kind of charisma you’d thought only existed in your characters.
oh god, maybe you should write him into your next story. you shook yourself, blinking the daydreams away just as he started talking again.
“... and that’s why,” he was saying, “there’s a bit of an art to saying things just right. people think it’s all about the words, but it’s the way you say them that makes it real, y’know?”
you nodded, trying to focus on his words as the room spun just a bit. “so you’re telling me, it’s all in the delivery?”
“exactly.” his gaze dropped to your lips, and he smirked, like he knew exactly what he was doing. “even the… dirtiest lines sound good if you say ’em the right way.”
oh no. that dangerous warmth was back.
somewhere between his intense gaze and that slow, lopsided smirk, dancing queen by abba blared through the bar speakers, jarring you out of your tipsy trance. the upbeat, disco-infused rhythm filled the room, all but laughing at the “moment” you thought you were having with this too-hot-for-reality stranger.
was this a moment? or were you just ridiculously drunk? did he even have a name? or were you just too far gone to have bothered asking?
“you can dance, you can jive,” abba sang, practically mocking you as you stared, wide-eyed, at the man across from you, his scarred lip twisted in a little grin as he watched you piece it all together. he must’ve seen the dawning realization on your face, because he chuckled, reaching for his drink again.
“something wrong, princess?” he asked, leaning forward with a glint of amusement.
oh, great. i’ve already been promoted to ‘princess’ by a guy i might not know the name of. you were seconds away from facepalming.
“uh, nothing,” you said, waving a hand as casually as you could manage. “just, uh, thinking how ironic it is that dancing queen is playing while… we’re, you know…”
“... having a moment?” he teased, clearly enjoying himself.
“well,” you cleared your throat, cheeks blazing, “if you can call me drunkenly staring at you while abba serenades us a ‘moment.’”
“hey, it’s a solid soundtrack choice,” he replied, looking like he was suppressing a laugh. “besides, don’t pretend this isn’t kinda perfect.”
“you think dancing queen is perfect for this?”
he shrugged, sipping his drink. “come on, you’re hammered, i’m here keeping you company, and we’re both, what… living in the moment?” he quirked a brow, his smirk widening as he eyed you, like he was daring you to argue.
and then, maybe out of pure liquid courage, or maybe because the absurdity was too much, you laughed. “yeah, living the moment… with some guy whose name i don’t even know.”
“toji,” he said, offering his hand with a lazy grin, like he’d just handed you a secret.
“toji,” you echoed, shaking his hand. he held on for a second longer than necessary, his gaze never leaving yours.
oh, this guy was trouble, and you were in so deep.
“and you?” he asked, still holding your hand.
you barely managed to whisper your name, but it came out like a sigh, and he repeated it back like it was something precious. “well then,” he said, smirking, “guess that makes two dancing queens tonight.”
“toji…” you muttered, the name slipping off your tongue again as you tried to place it. there was something familiar about it, like you’d heard it before, but in your tequila-drenched state, nothing was sticking.
toji, toji… where had you heard that name?
he cocked an eyebrow, clearly amused as you stared at him like he was the world’s most frustrating puzzle. “something on your mind?”
“n-no,” you stammered, then immediately backpedaled. “wait, actually, yes. toji, right?”
he nodded, a playful gleam in his eye. “that’s the one.”
“toji… toji…” you repeated, squinting at him as if a clearer view would magically connect the dots. and then, it hit you — toji fushiguro.
the voice actor who would be bringing your spicy, shamelessly dramatic main character to life.
the same guy you were supposed to meet tomorrow, the guy who was probably used to making everyone’s knees buckle with just a whisper.
“no way…” you whispered, clutching your head, and you could practically feel the blush creeping up your cheeks. “you — you’re… that toji?”
he gave a slight tilt of his head, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “what, surprised that i could be both hot and talented?”
you sputtered, trying to backtrack and failing miserably. “no! i mean, yes, but i just — tomorrow — you’re… you’re the guy who’s voicing my main character?”
he leaned back with a smirk, clearly enjoying the whirlwind of emotions he was putting you through. “didn’t think the universe would give you a sneak preview tonight, huh?”
your fuzzy brain struggled to compute this twist of fate. you were drunk, mortified, and beyond flustered, sitting in a bar with the man who’d soon be giving voice to all your filthy, shameless words. this was almost too much.
“oh my god,” you muttered, sinking back in your seat. “i literally threw up on my main character’s shoes.”
toji let out a hearty laugh, patting your shoulder. “hey, if anything, i’d say it’s on-brand for the kind of night you’d write.”
just as you were processing the sheer, ridiculous insanity of the situation, a fresh wave of nausea hit you like a freight train. before you could even react, you leaned forward and… splattered the floor with a decidedly not-dignified stream of bile. this time, it was almost cinematic, complete with a dramatic gagging sound that had you doubling over.
you watched in horror as you once again spewed your insides onto the floor, narrowly missing toji’s shoes but definitely adding a new layer to the already mortifying scene.
you’d probably just hit rock bottom.
“oh, god,” you groaned, covering your mouth with your hand as the bile burned your throat. “i swear… i’m not normally like this.”
toji chuckled, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck as he handed you a stack of napkins the bartender had generously supplied. “i’m starting to think i’m just a little too overwhelming for you, princess.”
you shot him a sheepish look as you wiped your mouth. overwhelming was an understatement.
“yeah, maybe we can leave that out of tomorrow’s team introductions,” you mumbled, trying desperately to pull yourself together.
toji chuckled, tossing a few more napkins your way. “no judgment here. it’s a rough night for a first ‘meet-cute,’ but hey, you’re nothing if not memorable.”
you gripped the napkin, willing yourself to hold it together, at least until you could make a semi-dignified exit. “i don’t even want to know what story you’ll tell people about this.”
toji just laughed, completely unbothered, as if getting vomited on was a regular night for him. “don’t worry, i’ll keep it discreet.” his voice dipped, lowering to a murmur. “for a girl with secrets, i figure you’d appreciate that.”
he lifted his drink and gave you a small toast. “to first meetings — and unforgettable nights. and hey, maybe tomorrow, you’ll surprise me and keep it down.”
oh, god, you thought, as you attempted to bury yourself in your napkin. if only i could crawl under the bar and hide forever.
normally, you wouldn’t wake up with “dancing queen” stuck in your head, but as you nursed the remnants of a truly terrible hangover, it felt almost... pleasant? the upbeat melody cut through the fog of your brain, and you couldn’t help but hum along, even if the lyrics felt like a cruel reminder of your embarrassing escapades from the night before.
“you can dance, you can jive, having the time of your life...”
wait, why dancing queen of all songs? you squinted at your alarm clock, your heart racing as the memories started flooding back like a poorly written rom-com. oh.
OH.
your eyes widened as you bolted out of bed with a speed that could make an olympic runner blush, frantically throwing on whatever clothes you could find — did you seriously still have a piece of glitter from last night stuck in your hair? gross! but no time for a shower; you had a meeting to get to at gojo-sonic, and you were about to meet — erm, remeet — toji fushiguro.
“ooh, see that girl, watch that scene, digging the dancing queen...”
as the lyrics blared in your head like an incessant movie soundtrack, you dashed out the door, praying you’d catch a cab in time. the universe couldn’t possibly let you walk into this meeting looking like a hot mess — especially when your main character's voice was waiting on the other side.
“you’re a tease you turn ‘em on…leave ‘em burning and then you’re gone…”
you rolled your eyes at your own ridiculousness. who cared if you’d practically thrown up on the guy? all you had to do was survive your own personal dance-off with fate and hope toji didn’t remember the lovely little details from last night.
you took a deep breath, determined to channel all the confidence you could muster. today was going to be great. right?
as you walked into the meeting room, gojo practically huffed an air of relief. you couldn’t help but think it was a little dramatic — like, it’s just a meeting. you took a deep breath, trying to shake off the last remnants of your hangover and the lingering embarrassment of last night’s vomit-venture.
the room was brightly lit, filled with a few familiar faces, including toji, who was leaning casually against a table with that annoyingly charming grin plastered on his face.
great. you’d somehow forgotten just how hot he was in the light of day.
toji’s presence made your stomach flutter and flip, but you shoved that feeling down — this was business, after all.
you scanned the room and spotted gojo-sonic’s most valued investor suguru geto on a screen in the corner, his hair tied back and eyes sharp as he joined the meeting online. wow, great first impression! with a sudden wave of panic, you could almost hear the dancing queen lyrics mocking you in the back of your mind. what’s next, bursting into song?
“hey, look who finally made it!” toji said, amusement dancing in his eyes. perfect. if he was going to make light of your grand entrance, you had to think fast to steer the conversation away from the disaster that was last night.
“sorry for keeping you all waiting,” you replied, forcing a smile that hopefully didn’t look too forced. “i had... a crazy night.”
toji raised an eyebrow, an amused smirk tugging at his lips. “crazy night, huh? did you bring us any stories?”
you shot him a warning glance, your heart racing as you internally pleaded with him not to say anything that could ruin your career. thankfully, he just chuckled, crossing his arms and leaning back, letting the moment hang in the air without any revealing comments.
“i think we’d all like to hear that,” suguru said, his tone teasing as he adjusted the camera. “but let’s save the fun stuff for later, right? we’ve got work to do.”
you nodded, grateful for suguru’s timely intervention. “yes, absolutely! so, uh, about the voice work —”
the atmosphere shifted as the others exchanged knowing glances, and you knew you’d have to tread carefully. this meeting was crucial, and you couldn’t let last night’s incident derail everything you’d worked for. with any luck, maybe you could just keep your foot out of your mouth for the rest of the meeting.
toji always knew he was hot.
i mean, how could he not?
with a jawline that could slice bread and a smirk that could charm the pants off anyone, confidence practically dripped off him like a cologne commercial. but the real question was: how to channel this hotness and turn it into something lucrative? great question!
being a single dad to wasn’t easy, and running from odd job to odd job just to scrape enough money for the brat’s school was proving to be tiresome. until one day, a certain gojo satoru decided to drop a bombshell on him.
“toji, you ever think about using that voice of yours for something... more creative?” gojo asked, leaning back in his office chair, a devilish grin spreading across his face.
“creative? what, like narrating my life as a sad single dad?” toji replied dryly, rolling his eyes. “because let me tell you, it’s not exactly a page-turner.”
“no, no, hear me out!” gojo insisted, practically bouncing in his seat. “i’m talking about voice acting — specifically, erotic audiobooks. it’s the next big thing!”
toji blinked, momentarily stunned. “you mean to tell me that the former bouncer at an elite club would be voicing erotic audiobooks? saying those weird, cringey lines that women seem to love? you’re insane.”
“think about it! you have the looks, the voice, and the whole mysterious vibe down pat,” gojo urged, waving his hands dramatically. “besides, you need the cash, and i need someone to bring a little... heat to my company.”
“you really think people want to hear me read lines like, ‘take me, you wild beast?’” toji quipped, snorting.
fast forward to his first recording session, where everything seemed to be going smoothly until disaster struck. toji was deep in character, delivering his best sexy voice when — bam! — the bathroom pipe exploded in his tiny flat.
“oh god, yes, just like that —” he started, voice dripping with sultry charm, when suddenly, a muffled splash! interrupted him, followed by megumi’s wail from the other room.
“dad! there’s water everywhere!”
toji cursed under his breath, trying to maintain his composure. “i’m coming! just... give me a second, i’m — ah, it’s getting so hot in here!” he struggled to continue, desperately trying to block out the chaos around him while the sounds of the pipe gushing water filled the audio.
but it turned out hormones took over the technical difficulties, because when the snippet was finally released, women and men of all ages were devouring it like it was the last slice of pizza at a party. it even went viral on tiktok, with cringe-worthy wannabes trying to recreate his sultry lines, failing miserably while toji sat back, amused.
“really? you think you can pull this off?” he chuckled to himself, watching one kid awkwardly mimic him. “nice try, kid. but good luck sounding this good while your mom’s screaming at you for hogging the bathroom.”
because toji wasn’t just a househusband — house father — anymore. he was a household name, and everyone knew him. his rise to fame was a wild ride, but hey, at least now he could afford to get the bathroom fixed — one line at a time.
he could hardly wrap his head around how he’d managed to move out of his tiny, crumbling apartment and into a much better place for him and megumi. it was like waking up one day and realizing he’d accidentally won the lottery. “wait, how did i end up here?” he’d mutter to himself, staring at the pristine walls and polished floors. “and how the hell can i pay megumi’s school fees on time without dodging dirty glares from the accounts office?”
he’d walk into the school, head held high, while megumi proudly puffed out his eight-year-old chest. “my daddy’s an actor!” he’d announce to anyone who would listen. toji couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride. i mean, the kid wasn’t wrong. he was acting — acting like he had his life together, at least!
but did his new job stop toji from being a little hoe? oh, hell no.
if anything, the fame went straight to his head — both up and down there, mind you. toji was like a kid in a candy store, and he was using his newfound charm to siphon money from literally every sugar mommy he could find.
and daddies, too, if he was feeling daring.
because people would die to be known as someone “close” to the toji fushiguro.
“oh my god, is that him?” a passerby would whisper, nudging her friend as they walked past toji at a private event.
“i think it is! i heard he’s dating someone famous,” her friend would respond, leaning in as if they were sharing a juicy secret. “i’ve seen him at that new club downtown. he’s just so... magnetic.”
“totally! i mean, if i could get him to call me ‘sweetheart’ just once, i’d die a happy woman,” the first friend would say, fluttering her eyelashes dramatically.
toji would smirk to himself, sipping his drink while casually overhearing their chatter. “yep, you’re right. i’m as available as a 24/7 convenience store,” he’d think, reveling in the attention. "i could probably charm the pants off a rock if i tried."
another group of giggling fans would walk by, whispering amongst themselves, “i met him at that charity event last week! he was so sweet! like, did you see the way he talked to everyone? he’s definitely a heartthrob.”
“sweet? you mean hot, right?” one of them would tease, and they’d all burst into laughter.
“please, if he looked at me, i’d die!” another would declare, all starry-eyed.
toji’s smirk widened. “keep it coming, ladies. i’m just here for the show.” he couldn’t deny it; being the center of attention was intoxicating, and he was loving every second of it.
with a wink and a little wave, he’d keep strutting through life like a runway model, knowing full well he had the power to turn heads and keep wallets open. “who knew being a hot voice actor could be this fun?”
great that you’d ask what toji did with all that sweet, sweet cash! save it all for his brat of a son, of course, even if he wouldn’t admit it. beneath that rugged exterior and playful swagger, he had a soft spot for the little sucker.
just the other week, megumi had been rambling on about wanting a really cool new video game console. “but daddy, alllll my friends have one! it’s so unfair!” he’d whined, big blue eyes practically shimmering with hope. toji had rolled his eyes, trying to act tough, but the moment he saw the kid's face, his heart melted like butter on a hot skillet. “fine, but only if you promise to finish your homework first.”
the next day, megumi had unwrapped a brand-new console, complete with all the latest games, and toji had basked in the sheer delight radiating from his son. “this is the best day ever!” megumi had screamed, wrapping his arms around toji’s waist. “thank you, daddy!”
toji grinned like an idiot, pretending to be unimpressed. “yeah, yeah, don’t go losing it on the first day, alright? and remember, no playing after eight!” he was basically a walking contradiction: a grumpy dad who secretly loved being the cool parent.
then there was that time megumi had been obsessed with this rare action figure from his favorite show. toji had seen the way his son’s eyes lit up every time he spotted it in a store, but it was always sold out. so, naturally, when toji found one online at a steep price, he didn’t hesitate. “i’ll just skip my overpriced rum for a week. totally worth it.”
when megumi had opened the package, he’d literally jumped in the air, screeching like a siren. “no way! you got it for me!?” and toji had played it cool, shrugging his shoulders. “what can i say? your dad’s a generous guy.”
of course, this indulgence didn’t go unnoticed by gojo satoru. the six eyes — er, eyes! — of the man always seemed to be on toji, especially when he noticed his friend was splurging just a little too much on himself — like that new leather jacket that looked ridiculously good on him.
“i need a jacket like that,” gojo had muttered to himself, glancing at his own wardrobe with disappointment.
whenever toji treated himself, gojo would quietly slide a check over to him, nonchalantly muttering, “just a little something for megumi’s school expenses.”
some people would have viewed it as offensive or patronizing, but not toji. he’d always laughed it off, feeling grateful instead. in his mind, gojo was like a guardian angel — “if guardian angels wore sunglasses and had a taste for expensive sweets.” he saw it as gojo looking out for megumi, which made toji’s heart swell with warmth. “who else would want to help raise my kid? might as well accept it.”
“just don’t make a habit of it, alright?” toji would say with a teasing grin. “i don’t need you spoiling him more than i do.”
“too late,” gojo would quip, already plotting ways to sneak more gifts into megumi’s life. “it’s my new hobby.”
so, when gojo casually dropped the bomb that toji would be voicing one of the hottest, trending smut book — “mating with the demon king” or something equally ridiculous — toji shrugged it off. “simple enough job,” he thought. “and it must be good if they came to me for it.”
but when gojo suggested he read the book to get an idea of the material — “just a little prep work,” he’d said with that infuriatingly charming grin — things took a wild turn.
big mistake, toji would later reflect as he flipped through the pages, his eyebrows shooting up higher than a roller coaster. “who writes this stuff?” he muttered, half-laughing at the sheer absurdity of it all.
the content was downright depraved. there were scenes that had him questioning his entire existence.
“‘he thrust into her like a man possessed, each stroke igniting a fire within her’ — what even is that?” he read aloud, only to burst out laughing at the ridiculousness. megumi, playing quietly in the other room, wondered why his daddy was cackling like a madman.
“uh, daddy? why are you reading that out loud?” megumi had peeked in, eyes wide with curiosity. toji quickly scrambled to shut the book. “uh, just… learning about, uh, cooking techniques!” he stammered, trying to play it cool. “you wouldn’t get it, buddy.”
but the laughter continued to bubble out of him, and he couldn’t help but read some of the more ludicrous lines. “‘his lips found her collarbone, trailing heat like a wildfire’ — who even talks like that?” he shook his head, utterly bemused.
by the end of the chapter, he was howling. “‘she gasped as he swept her off her feet and into a world of ecstasy’ — oh please!” toji chortled, clutching his stomach, imagining how this would all sound through a microphone. “my kid is gonna think i’ve lost my goddamn mind.”
but hey, if this job was going to pay the bills, he figured he could endure a little humiliation. “it’s all in a day’s work, right?” he muttered to himself, finally accepting that he was now the voice of “mating with the demon king.”
all that reading really took its toll on toji — physically, mentally, spiritually even. after hours spent tripping over lines like “pressed against the throbbing heat of his desire” (yeah, that one took five tries to get through without laughing), he needed to clear his head. so, he found himself at a bar, halfway through a drink, hoping to numb the embarrassment he’d just endured in the name of rent money.
then stumbles this stranger — a cute, very tipsy stranger who quickly parked herself right next to him and started chatting him up, wide-eyed and slightly unsteady. great, drunk people, he thought, resisting an eyeroll as she grinned at him, looking ready to either start a fight or profess her love.
maybe both.
of course, what are the odds she’d go ahead and throw up on his shoes? yes, his brand-new shoes, because, apparently, the universe had decided that tonight, toji fushiguro would be the world’s personal punching bag. “can’t even get through one drink without some shit happening,” he muttered to himself as she looked up at him with a horrified expression. “we’re off to a great start here, huh?”
after some water and some awkward apologies (mostly her apologizing, mostly him trying not to laugh), they fell into surprisingly decent conversation. she was rambling about her job, the stress, the weird demands — stuff he could sympathize with, honestly.
and that’s when he dropped it, just for fun: “i’m a voice actor.”
her eyes sparkled with recognition — a little too much recognition, actually, which made him narrow his eyes. “wait, what’s your name?” she asked, suddenly all ears.
“toji. toji fushiguro.”
the second he said it, her face went from curious to horrified to... oh yeah, she knew exactly who he was. “wait,” she gasped, putting her hand over her mouth. “you’re... you’re the voice actor for my book.”
toji raised an eyebrow, deadpan.
so this was the writer, the one who wrote all that nonsense he’d been struggling through for days. well, wasn’t that just the cherry on top. not only was this his boss but also the very person responsible for phrases like “pulsing need” and “moans spilling like honey.” and she’d just puked on him.
talk about a power move.
“small world,” he said, his tone dry as desert sand. wonderful, he thought. my boss threw up on me. but, hey, the night was still young.
he took a long sip from his drink, hoping she wouldn’t take this as an excuse to unleash some kind of creative critique.
“i... i didn’t know you’d be here,” she stammered, a shade redder than before, probably realizing what this made her look like — her, the lady behind the “throbbing heat of desire” shtick.
“don’t worry,” he said, giving her a smirk. “i won’t tell anyone the literary mastermind responsible for all that... romance has a weak stomach.”
you probably don’t remember much after you composed yourself following that second round of projectile embarrassment — but don’t worry, toji remembers. the man’s got a steel trap for the kinds of memories you’d prefer stayed buried. once he’d figured out that you weren’t exactly in shape to be left wandering around, he made the executive decision to get you home. yeah, he’d just met you a couple hours ago, but somehow, through the boozy haze and questionable life choices, he’d managed to catch your address.
impressive detective work, really… or, well, you may have blurted it out mid-ramble about how “the streetlight outside is the only thing lighting up your lonely hallway.”
a touch dramatic, but, hey, it worked.
so he got you back to your place (no thanks to the cab driver’s judgmental side-eye), got you up the stairs without you faceplanting, and, after propping you up long enough to unlock your door, he even went the extra mile and tucked you under the covers. you, meanwhile, mumbled something about “tequila being the devil,” blissfully oblivious to the poor guy who’d just witnessed more of your personal life than your closest friends. toji took one last look before heading out, chuckling to himself as you drifted off, probably already dreaming of whatever literary nonsense you’d be writing next.
but what really stuck with him? the damn “dancing queen” chorus ringing in his ears from the bar. maybe it was still playing somewhere out there in the night, or maybe you’d just cursed him with it. because as he walked home, hands shoved in his pockets, there it was, looping over and over in his head.
“you can dance… you can jive…”
great, now he’d be humming it for days.
both you and toji were snapped back into the fluorescent-lit reality of the conference room, where gojo was still going on about… royalties? percentages? to be honest, the entire spiel sounded more like corporate white noise to you.
toji, on the other hand, was leaning back in his chair, looking as disinterested as humanly possible without actually falling asleep. across the screen, suguru appeared in one of those stiff, all-business modes, nodding along to gojo’s speech. his eyes had that telltale sparkle that only appeared when money was the topic — “stakeholder perks,” as gojo would call it, though it just meant suguru got to rake in extra cash on the side.
“and once the audiobook’s live, the split from the sales will be recalculated quarterly, yadda yadda, yadaaa —” gojo’s voice broke into a sing-song, clearly amusing only himself. “anyway, you guys will see some real sweet checks from this.”
“royalties…” suguru interjected, a bit too smoothly, “remind me what those projected percentages were again, satoru?”
toji suppressed a snort. here they were, with the man himself who could barely be bothered to read a weather report straight, much less your raunchy magnum opus. good luck explaining earnings, gojo.
“oh yeah, royalties!” gojo cleared his throat, launching into a number-laden monologue that seemed to somehow both explain everything and nothing at once. toji barely listened, glancing at the digital clock on the wall. it was only when gojo pivoted, with a suddenly very pointed look, that toji actually tuned back in.
“so, did everyone do their, ah, homework?” gojo grinned as his gaze swept across the room, his eyes landing on you with a bit too much knowing amusement. “read the… material?”
you shuffled uncomfortably in your seat, and every other voice actor in the room suddenly found the table, the wall, or their own shoes very interesting.
all except toji, of course, who stretched back with the most obnoxious smirk you’d seen yet.
“homework?” he drawled, deadpan as always. “yeah, got right into it. wouldn’t want to miss a single word of that… fine literature.”
a few of the others exchanged awkward looks, clearly unsure how to respond to the dead-serious way toji said fine literature without a shred of irony. meanwhile, you shrank a little in your seat, not exactly loving the fact that the guy you threw up on was apparently the one voice actor who actually read your work cover-to-cover. not to mention, this was toji fushiguro, the voice actor who’d taken the world by storm with a single, leaked snippet. you'd heard your fans say that he was some kind of god-tier talent — practically a household name. and now?
he was casually staring you down like he'd just read your diary.
“it’s… it’s not that bad,” you muttered defensively, feeling a prickling heat rise up your neck.
toji raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying himself. “oh, didn’t say it was bad. just, uh… thorough.”
you felt the blush intensify, but before you could reply, gojo jumped back in, undeterred. “great! since everyone’s read it now, we’ll dive into scene breakdowns tomorrow, with input from our illustrious author here.” he winked at you in that annoyingly playful way of his, as if he’d just orchestrated the whole thing for kicks. “it’s all about bringing your vision to life, yeah?”
“looking forward to it.” toji’s tone was smooth, with just enough emphasis to hint at the mischief lying behind his calm expression. you could swear there was a glimmer of challenge in his eyes, and the fact that he’d actually read the book — a book that you wrote in a creative haze, no less — was beginning to feel less like a weird coincidence and more like some cosmic joke at your expense.
suguru’s voice broke through, “and let’s hope that translates to success, right, gojo? my dividends would certainly appreciate it.”
“oh, don’t you worry, sugu bear.” gojo leaned in with that shark-like grin of his. “with toji voicing this masterpiece, and the author right here to guide us? we’re printing money already.”
with a dramatic flourish, gojo clapped his hands together, instantly breaking the tension. “alright, dismissed! snacks are out front — help yourselves, or not! more for me, after all,” he added, a mischievous glint in his eye as he clearly envisioned his sugary hoard.
suguru took this moment as his graceful exit cue, giving a short nod before the screen blinked off. gojo sighed theatrically, clasping his chest. “oh, suguru, leaving so soon? you wound me! who’s going to discuss ‘dividends’ and ‘royalties’ with me now?”
nobody had the heart — or possibly the patience — to answer that question, which suited gojo just fine as he spun on his heel, making his way toward the snack table.
you, meanwhile, considered vanishing altogether, at least until the next segment of the day when you’d actually need to make yourself useful. judging by the energy in the room, none of the other voice actors were in a rush to strike up a conversation with you.
ouch. apparently, being the creator of their next project wasn’t that much of a social asset.
you edged toward the door, already halfway to freedom when, like clockwork, a deep, familiar voice stopped you in your tracks. “leaving so soon?”
you didn’t even have to turn around to know who it was. obnoxious didn’t even cover half of it. “just… thought i’d give you guys a break from me,” you muttered, gripping the strap of your bag tighter, hoping it looked casual instead of like an attempt to bolt.
toji’s laugh was low, almost teasing. “a break? i don’t mind the company. in fact, i think the others are just shy.” his words were smooth, but there was a mischievous lilt to them, like he was very aware of just how uncomfortable you probably were.
“right,” you deadpanned, summoning every ounce of sarcasm you had left. “they’re all just shy.”
he chuckled, falling into step beside you as you made your way to the snack table. gojo was already there, unabashedly sampling a tray of tiny cupcakes. he shot you both a grin that was, in all honesty, more threatening than friendly.
oh god, why is he looking at us like that?
“so!” gojo swiped another cupcake, leaning back against the table as he took in you and toji with an almost too-pleased expression. “getting along, are we? i mean, it’s not every day you get to work so closely with the voice behind your book, right?” he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, as if trying to ignite some sort of spark just to make things interesting.
toji, unbothered as ever, shrugged. “she already threw up on me. might as well be friends after that, huh?”
oh my god.
you felt the flush rise to your face instantly, a mix of embarrassment and horror. he did not just bring that up in front of gojo, of all people.
“aww, how cute!” gojo crooned, looking absolutely delighted as he clapped his hands in that overly-enthusiastic, not-at-all sincere way. “bonding over bodily fluids. you guys are practically soulmates!”
“please, kill me now,” you muttered under your breath, glaring at the snack table like it might provide an escape hatch.
toji leaned in, voice dropping to a near whisper, and you could practically hear the smirk in his tone. “don’t worry, author. i’ve seen worse.”
“great, that’s… comforting,” you muttered, resisting the urge to roll your eyes as you grabbed a snack at random. at this point, you were ready to make a quick exit, potentially before the day’s work even started if it meant escaping this scene.
“now, don’t run off too fast,” gojo added, wagging a finger at you with a sly grin. “i’m expecting all of us back here in an hour, nice and energized. don’t want any excuses!”
toji shot you one last look, equal parts teasing and unreadable, before he turned to grab a coffee. “guess you’re stuck with me for a little longer,” he murmured, a faint glimmer of humor in his eyes.
wonderful. absolutely wonderful. well, at least there’s cupcakes.
it’s only five minutes into the recording session, and you’re already wondering if there’s a job market for earth-burrowing positions. if there is, you’d gladly take it. anything would be better than this…circus.
the sound booth is packed with voice actors delivering line after line of your book’s carefully crafted (painfully cheesy) smutty dialogue. you bite your lip, both cringing and resisting the urge to laugh out loud as one of the actors, a slender guy with an unfortunate tendency to over-dramatize every vowel, reads his line with a tragic sigh.
“i can’t help it… i just want to devour you.”
devour you? you want to throw yourself into the nearest trash can. before you can stop yourself, you lean forward into the mic, managing a half-apologetic, half-pleading tone. “uh, could you maybe… ease up on the ‘devour’ part? like, less dramatic, more… suave?”
he nods seriously, doing a quick vocal warm-up before trying again. “i can’t help it… i just want to devoooour—”
“nope! nope, nope, nope!” you blurt, a little louder than you intended, the cringe spiraling out of control. you quickly clear your throat, trying to sound as professional as possible. “let’s, uh, maybe just skip to the next line.”
from the corner of the room, you catch sight of gojo, who’s grinning so widely you’re genuinely concerned his face might stay that way forever. he’s watching you with an infectious enthusiasm that’s bordering on manic, his eyes practically sparkling with amusement. you’re half-expecting him to yell, “surprise! this is an snl skit!”
you rub at your temple, wishing the earth would do you a solid and open up beneath you, while the next actor — a petite, sweet-looking woman who’s visibly uncomfortable — takes her turn. she clears her throat, looking down at her script, and delivers the line in a barely-there whisper, “i… i want you to take me… take me as if…”
“um…” you grimace, instantly feeling the heat rise to your face. “maybe a bit louder? but, you know, sensual.”
she blushes, muttering something under her breath before raising her voice, though it’s still trembling. “i… i want you to… take me… as if…”
toji, who’s been watching the whole scene from his seat, chuckles lowly, and his smirk sends a jolt of embarrassment through you. “jeez, author, why don’t you just hop in there and show ’em how it’s done?” he mutters, voice dripping with sarcasm, though it’s not unkind.
you throw him a flat look, biting back an eye roll. not like i wanted to be here, you think to yourself. it’s just that somehow, the universe decided that today you’d be responsible for turning lines you’d never want to say out loud into something even remotely palatable.
and it only gets worse.
another actor — a deep-voiced, well-meaning guy in his mid-40s — leans into his mic and reads out, in a gruff voice you can only describe as a rejected batman impersonation: “you’re driving me… wild.” his tone is so intense it’s like he’s threatening to fight the listener in a parking lot.
“okay… we might want to dial it back a little,” you say carefully, hoping to mask your horror with politeness. “just… a little less ‘supervillain,’ more… warm?”
you hear toji chuckle behind you, low and rumbling, clearly reveling in your suffering. and as you glance over your shoulder, you find gojo, once again, looking like this is the best entertainment he’s had in years.
at this point, he might actually cry from laughing.
just when you think it can’t get any worse, toji stands, giving you a wink as he heads into the booth for his turn. he takes the mic, his face blank and unreadable as he starts reading the next line.
“i need you… right now,” he purrs, his voice oozing that lazy, sensual charm you’d envisioned for this character. it’s… almost unfair, really.
there’s not an ounce of irony or overacting.
toji’s delivery is so smooth, so confident, that it catches you off guard, a flush rising to your cheeks.
gojo lets out a low whistle, giving you a teasing look as if to say, see? was that so hard?
“finally,” you mutter under your breath, swallowing the lump in your throat. gojo raises a brow, clearly enjoying every second of your awkwardness.
you sigh, mentally bracing yourself for the rest of the recording. if nothing else, at least one actor seems to have nailed the tone — much to your embarrassment and gojo’s endless delight.
you clear your throat, attempting to regain some semblance of control over the recording session, which is proving to be harder than herding a pack of caffeinated cats. “right, everyone, let’s, uh, keep moving and go ahead with recording the dragon king’s lines. toji, if you’re ready?”
but you barely finish your sentence before gojo claps toji on the shoulder with that all-too-annoying bromance energy, grinning from ear to ear. “our star is ready, aren’t ya, toji? i mean, look at this guy! look at him! can’t believe i found this gem for gojo-sonic!” gojo’s voice carries that infuriatingly proud tone that practically drips with smug satisfaction.
you stifle an eye roll, and even the other actors exchange glances, half-annoyed, half-amused at gojo’s over-the-top fawning. but before you can jump in to cut gojo off, toji just smirks, sliding comfortably into the mic like he was born to deliver cheesy lines.
“alright, alright,” you murmur, mostly to yourself. “let’s see what you’ve got, mr. dragon king.”
toji adjusts the headphones, his lazy smirk already primed.
and then he begins, voice low and sultry, hitting each cringe-worthy word with the same ridiculous gravitas that has the whole room mesmerized.
“i have waited eons for a beauty like yours to grace my realm. come… be mine, and together we shall rule the heavens.”
you can practically feel everyone holding their breath, transfixed by the sheer sincerity in his tone, despite the line’s absurdity. you, too, can’t help but feel a blush creeping up your neck, which is just unfair given you wrote these lines.
you knew what they were meant to sound like, but this?
he’s delivering them like they’re damn poetry.
toji doesn’t stop there, though, his deep voice carrying each line as though he’s serenading the mic. “my heart burns with a fire only you can soothe. take my hand, and i swear to guard your heart with my very life.”
gojo is practically fawning, batting his eyelashes like a proud parent in the corner. “see, people, this is how it’s done! let the dragon king here show you amateurs how it’s really supposed to sound!”
you resist the urge to chuck something at gojo as the other actors’ eyes widen, watching in awe.
one of them mutters under their breath, “no way we’re topping that.”
and then, toji’s voice dips even lower, the next line coming out in a growl that somehow manages to be both dramatic and, disturbingly, kind of… enchanting.
“you are the breath in my lungs, the flame in my veins. without you, i am but a shadow… a beast in the dark.”
the room is dead silent.
you’re all fawning, gushing messes, and you’re not even sure how it happened. it’s like toji’s somehow turned this trial recording into an absurdly hot moment. you can barely believe you’re hearing the same lines you once labeled “ridiculously cringey” in the draft.
finally, he leans back, looking pleased with himself, as if he hadn’t just left everyone a little breathless. gojo practically beams with pride, nudging you.
“so… i think you’ve found your dragon king, wouldn’t you say?”
you nod, still stunned, half in disbelief, half in begrudging admiration. if this was just the trial recording, you could only imagine how many blushing, starry-eyed listeners this final audiobook was going to leave in its wake.
the moment the trial recording session wraps up, gojo is the first one on his feet, clapping his hands like he's just watched the performance of a lifetime. “brilliant!” he practically shouts, pulling out his phone faster than you can blink. “suguru needs to hear this,” he mutters, already dialing his business partner like a kid who can’t wait to brag about his latest toy.
sometimes you really do forget that gojo is the ceo of a multi-million dollar company — an erotic audiobook company, no less.
is he this passionate about the art, or is it just the money? either way, watching him fanboy over his own employee leaves you a mix of amused and exhausted.
there’s a charm to it, though, even if it’s a little baffling to witness in real time.
as the energy in the studio starts to mellow, you find yourself actually breathing a bit easier. for once, things seem to be going smoothly.
maybe this whole collaboration wouldn’t be a disaster after all.
you let yourself relax, even if a small part of your brain chides you with a quick reminder: next time, skip the cheap caffeine fix when you’re pulling an all-nighter writing smut.
or… cheap anything, really.
yeah, you don’t actually smoke, you remind yourself — except, well, that one time in college, but hey, that was a whole different you. one that should stay buried in the relics of questionable decisions, right next to your spiral-bound notes of embarrassingly bad poetry.
just as you’re praying to the universe that this is all going to wrap up without any extra drama, you hear it. the sound that’s become both your nightmare and… okay, maybe, a little less than that.
“well, princess,” toji’s voice rumbles, his tone as amused as it is teasing, “got anything else you want from your dragon king?”
you close your eyes and will the ground to open up beneath you, but nope, nothing.
nothing but the sound of your heartbeat doing an awkward little tango in your chest.
of course he’d pick now to resurrect that ridiculous moniker from last night. like it wasn’t humiliating enough when he threw it out there while you were a couple drinks deep and all but glued to your seat at the bar.
oh, you’re practically begging the universe to put you out of your misery — well, actually, now that you think about it, maybe being wrapped up in those beefy arms wouldn’t be the worst fate…
wow. get a grip, girl. this is the caffeine deprivation talking.
definitely that.
but then toji smirks at you, an eyebrow raised, as if he’s just dared you to respond. and all you can think is… oh, lord, this man is trouble.
"c’mon, just a drink,” toji insists, flashing that devil-may-care grin that both ruins and improves your day within a matter of seconds. he’s leaning back like he’s got all the time in the world, casually ignoring how you definitely don’t.
“trust me, princess, it’ll settle your nerves.”
it’s not like you need a reminder of the mess that was last night. every foggy memory swirls in your head, like life’s own cruel version of a mocktail — one garnished with shame, regret, and a generous helping of last night’s tequila.
if anything, adding more drinks to this equation feels about as smart as walking blindfolded into traffic.
but toji’s already up, stretching like he’s completely unaware of the chaotic memories this whole “outing” is summoning. “just a quick look around gojo-sonic, yeah?” he says, nodding toward the maze of hallways beyond the studio door, his face the perfect picture of innocence.
“you’re new here, and it’s… important to know the lay of the land. work reasons.”
you can practically hear the quotation marks around that “work reasons.”
“you know,” he adds with a wink, “never hurts to see where the magic happens.”
yeah, right. you have a feeling the only magic here is him somehow dragging you deeper into your personal nightmare.
you don’t even get the chance to respond with a yes, no, or a “maybe next century” when toji’s phone lights up and his whole expression darkens. not exactly the look you expect from the guy whose voice practically ruined half the internet last month with that infamous line about... well, yeah, better not go there right now.
“satoru, the brat got into a fight,” he growls into the phone, and suddenly, satoru’s jaw hits the floor with such force you can practically hear it from across the studio. toji doesn’t stick around for a reply, though — he’s already striding toward the door like a man with a purpose, ignoring satoru’s spluttered, “the what did who?”
and somehow — god knows how — you find yourself tagging along like it’s the most natural thing in the world. maybe it’s curiosity, maybe it’s the thrill of seeing toji in full boss mode, or maybe it’s just because, oh, y’know, “responsible adult and responsibilities” instincts or whatever.
but the further you walk, the more you realize that toji doesn’t mind you following one bit. in fact, he’s practically matching his pace to yours, as if you’re part of some unofficial escort mission to... whoever this “brat” is.
which, speaking of, who the hell is megumi?
you’re still trying to wrap your head around how this was supposed to be a “quick tour” of the office and not, somehow, an impromptu escort mission to the world’s sleekest car, a porsche 911 turbo — yep, that’s right, the kind of car you’ve only ever seen in movies where the bad guy’s got a mysterious, sexy side. all you can manage is, “you own this?”
toji shrugs, slipping his keys into the ignition with an air of pure, unbothered cool. “you don’t?”
oh. okay.
you barely have time to process this response before he’s peeling out of the parking lot, narrowly avoiding a stray cat, a snail-paced truck, and an old lady who’s almost sacrificed her wig to his driving style. but hey, all part of the thrill, right?
definitely not questioning life choices here.
by the time you pull up to a cutesy primary school — you know, the kind with pastel-colored gates and cartoon murals of bears and rabbits — you’re genuinely confused.
toji seems like the last guy who’d be here unless it was some undercover op. and “megumi,” whoever he is, sounds like he could be the school’s playground menace.
“wait, this is where we’re headed?” you ask, eyeing the building like it might suddenly make sense.
but toji’s out of the car, moving so fast you practically have to jog to keep up. the school secretary gives you both a wary glance, likely sensing the storm of exasperation radiating off toji, as he strides straight into the principal’s office. there, sitting on a chair with his arms crossed and an unimpressed scowl that screams “mini-toji,” is a little boy with spiky hair and an air of quiet defiance.
without missing a beat, toji asks, “megs! did you win?”
the principal, a kindly-looking woman whose expression is rapidly shifting from “calm mediator” to “i don’t get paid enough for this,” clears her throat.
“mr. fushiguro, your son wasn’t... in the wrong, per se. it appears he was, um, defending his honor.”
defending his honor? you blink. what kind of second grader even knows what that means?
“that true, ‘gumi?” toji says, arms crossed, looking every bit the unbothered, proud dad of the year.
“he said my dad was a... weird voice actor,” megumi mutters, then shrugs. “so i said at least my dad works.”
you nearly choke, partly from stifled laughter, partly from the sheer absurdity of all this. here you were, thinking “honor” meant, like, taking down a playground empire or something.
but no, megumi’s just a kid with a sharp tongue and a little too much of toji’s attitude.
“damn right, kid,” toji says, patting megumi’s head, then looking over at you with that familiar, annoyingly smug grin. “raised him right, yeah?”
“...sure,” you say, because what else can you even say at this point? it’s like you’ve stumbled into the weirdest sitcom ever, and the laugh track is somehow missing.
the principal’s expression morphs into something almost painfully polite as she addresses you, tiptoeing around the word wife with an impressive mix of caution and curiosity.
“are you, ah... megumi’s guardian?”
and then, in perfect, unplanned harmony, you, toji, and megumi all blurt out, “no.”
the unity, the instinctual synchronization — it’s like you’re all on the same wavelength, for better or worse. soul-level understanding, or something.
what the hell is happening right now?
with a polite smile and a “let’s never speak of this again” nod, you three finally leave the principal’s office. megumi, looking more bored than reprimanded, flicks at a speck of lint on his uniform, while you and toji attempt to navigate the hallway swarming with concerned teachers and worried front-desk ladies. and by “concerned” and “worried,” it’s more like they’re curious about toji’s parenting style and, let’s be honest, probably toji himself.
“oh, mr. fushiguro!” one particularly invested teacher coos, “we heard about the incident. is everything all right?”
toji, of course, laps up the attention, chuckling low and throwing in a wink here and there like he’s starring in some kind of action-movie dad role. the ladies are practically falling over themselves to get a response from him, their questions barely veiled as they assess you with raised brows and sideways glances, a classic “who’s she?” written all over their faces.
“and you are...?” one of the front-desk ladies finally asks, voice all sugar-coated and sharp.
toji slides in smoothly, cutting off whatever half-formed, awkward introduction you were about to stammer out. “oh, she’s a colleague,” he says, his tone effortlessly suave, like introducing a perfectly respectable coworker and totally not the author of his last, extremely explicit audiobook project.
you’re almost grateful until it hits you — this is the same guy who made a whole production of calling you “princess” in the recording booth just yesterday.
as if he hasn’t played one of your absurdly corny dragon kings in all his full-throttle intensity.
and now he’s here, all casual and cool, giving you a proper, respectable title like he hasn’t spent hours voicing content these people probably keep hidden under their pillows at night.
but at least he didn’t out you as the actual author of those… creative pieces.
that’s something.
toji is out here, doing his social service to society. and no, it’s not about lending his voice to steamy audiobooks, thank you very much.
today, he’s serving the community by providing these teachers with a generous five minutes of his attention, which they’ll probably be replaying in their heads until the next parent-teacher meeting. and — oh, what a surprise! — that’s exactly what they’re talking about now, circling back to how he must come to the next one for a “serious discussion” about megumi.
toji’s stance? why bother? if the kid’s acing his tests, staying out of trouble (mostly), and keeping a lid on the whole “honor” thing, why does he need to sit through hours of polite lecturing from the pta?
while he’s busy justifying his lack of parental enthusiasm, you feel a pair of eyes on you. glancing down, you meet megumi’s steady, curious stare.
it’s oddly intense for a kid his age, but you’re not one to back down from a challenge. you narrow your eyes, feigning a critical, assessing look, and he visibly falters, going slightly pink around the ears.
ah, kids.
as you three make your way out of the building — toji still being all socialite with the staff and probably postponing that pta date indefinitely — you suddenly find yourself in a mini interview with megumi. it’s as if this eight-year-old has appointed himself the gatekeeper of his dad’s life and has decided you’re the latest applicant.
“so… what’s your favorite color?” he asks, with an unblinking, serious stare.
“uh…” you pause, realizing the weight of your answer here. “blue. like, uh, light blue.”
he nods, considering. “good answer.”
a pause. “favorite superhero?”
“batman?” you try, glancing at him for a sign of approval.
“hmm. fine. but iron man would’ve been better.”
noted, you think, as he then moves to cereal brand, favorite animal, and even your preferred subject in school. you navigate each question as best as you can, almost feeling the burn of a final exam.
then, in a moment of quiet, just as you think the quiz is over, megumi looks down and asks, voice barely a whisper, “did i… do the right thing? defending my… my hone-er?”
“your… oh, honor?” you say, a smile twitching at the corner of your mouth as you catch his wide-eyed, earnest gaze.
he nods, cheeks tinting a bit as he scuffs his sneaker on the ground.
“megumi,” you say, kneeling a little to get on his level, “defending your honor is important. just… maybe don’t go for all the punches next time? sometimes words work too.” you give him a playful nudge.
he nods, seeming satisfied with that answer, then glances over his shoulder. “and don’t tell daddy i asked.”
“your secret’s safe with me,” you whisper back, giving him a conspiratorial wink.
toji’s arms were crossed, an unreadable expression on his face as he watched the little interaction between you and megumi.
he was always careful about the people around his kid, fiercely protective to the point that very few in his line of work even knew megumi existed. the only ones who had ever met him were gojo and geto — and that was already a stretch.
but something about how you handled the kid’s questions, actually entertained them with the same patience he’d usually summon up himself, caught him off guard. the way you knelt down to answer him, even kept a straight face through the hard-hitting topics of favorite superheroes and cereal brands... it was surprisingly nice.
almost… reassuring?
ugh, what was he even thinking? you were still the same girl who’d written, and he mentally cringed as he remembered the line,
“dragons may have claws, but they’re nothing compared to the grip i have on your…”
yeah, yeah, he really didn’t need to finish that thought. the memory alone had him chuckling under his breath, shaking his head.
of course, that earned him a suspicious glance from both you and megumi.
“what’s so funny?” you asked, brow raised.
“yeah, daddy, why’re you laughing?” megumi chimed in, clearly puzzled.
toji waved a hand dismissively, realizing he’d just blown his cool for no reason.
“nothin’, don’t worry about it. just thinkin’,” he mumbled, aware he’d probably looked a little unhinged just then.
maybe he really needed to work on his awareness — or maybe he just needed to get a grip, period.
toji’s mind was doing somersaults, genuinely debating if he could manage both you and megumi tagging along for the afternoon. megumi’s insistence didn’t help; kid was determined that toji should keep you both company for the rest of the day, despite having school hours left.
“you’ve got work, right?” you ask, half-joking, half-serious. “aren’t you supposed to be off doing big, important actor things?”
toji only smirked, whipping out his phone with the sort of confidence that made it clear he had a workaround for everything. he tapped open a message to gojo, fingers moving fast.
you [11:31 am]: hey. kid’s dragging me to the arcade. need a few hours off. gojo s. [11:33 am]: need or WANT, toji? ;)) you [11:31 am]: like i said, KID is dragging me. gojo s. [11:33 am]: oh sure, blame megumi. what, does he have you wrapped around his little finger or something? you [11:31 am]: think whatever you want, but you’re handling my schedule for the rest of the day. gojo s. [11:33 am]: wait, are you with...the AUTHOR? ;)) you [11:31 am]: quit smiling through text, it’s creepy. gojo s. [11:33 am]: i’ll allow it. but only cause i’m such a good friend. gojo s. [11:33 am]: tell megumi uncle gojo says hi gojo s. [11:34 am]: and he owes me 20 bucks. you [11:35 am]: he doesn’t owe you anything. gojo s. [11:35 am]: fine, but bring me something from the prize counter.
satisfied, toji pocketed his phone and shrugged.
“all right, kid. we’ll hang out for a bit. but i swear if you drag me into any embarrassing games —”
“arcade!” megumi interrupted, not even giving him a chance to finish. “i can show you both that i’m the best at every game! daddy taught me how to play, so you better watch out!”
you couldn’t help but chuckle at the kid’s enthusiasm.
“all right, let’s go. but you better not make me look bad, kid,” toji said, smirking down at his son, who was now practically vibrating with eagerness.
“arcade!” megumi yelled again, nearly bouncing as he grabbed your hand and began to lead the way.
megumi barely lets you settle into the leather of the passenger seat before he’s bouncing in the back, practically vibrating with energy as he plugs toji’s phone into the aux. you’re trying to wrap your head around being in toji fushiguro’s car, the man who not only voices the romantic lead in your steamiest, most dramatic book but also owns a luxury car that could probably pay off your loans twice over.
"so, uh... passenger princess, huh?" toji smirks, catching you in mid-thought.
"i… what?" you stammer, feeling the heat creep up as he settles a hand on the wheel with all the nonchalance in the world. “i, uh —” but you’re cut off by megumi excitedly blasting his choice of artist: korn.
"your son listens to korn?" you blurt out, giving toji a mix of awe and disbelief.
toji just raises an eyebrow, deadpanning, “yours doesn’t?”
ouch. okay, fair point.
because no, you do not have a kid, or a husband, or even a boyfriend…or any romantic prospects, really.
toji’s question leaves you fidgeting as you try to muster a dignified response.
meanwhile, megumi is full-on screaming to the lyrics of "freak on a leash," and you catch snippets like “something takes a part of me!” which, yeah, relatable — korn is honestly hitting the mood. but of course, toji catches you staring out the window, attempting to look casual as he throws you a side-eye.
"so, what’s got you without a boyfriend?” he asks, way too casually, as if this was a natural segue from whatever korn-fueled karaoke session is happening in the backseat.
you practically choke on air. "what, me? no, i’m...," you laugh awkwardly, shifting in the passenger seat. “besides, i don’t meet many guys. i'm just… you know… doing my thing.”
megumi, pausing his headbanging just for a moment, turns and looks at you with an exaggerated ‘yikes’ face, as if being single was the worst possible fate in his young, eight-year-old eyes.
but then he shrugs, clearly uninterested in this adult drama and goes back to screaming, “feeling like a freak on a leash!”
toji, still watching you, smirks, “so, doing your ‘thing’ includes no boyfriend, no husband... what, are you just swearing off men?”
"uh, no!” you say quickly, too quickly, and feel your face heat up. “just haven’t... y’know, met anyone worth dating. been busy.”
toji gives a low chuckle, clearly entertained. “busy doing what, writing your ‘torrid love stories’?”
you make a face, biting your lip.
“they’re not that torrid.” but even as you say it, you hear the echo of a particularly cheesy line you’d written for his character in your novel, which, mortifyingly enough, involved the phrase “my darling flame, you set my very soul alight.”
toji chuckles, as if reading your thoughts. “maybe i’ll get to hear one of those lines in real life someday, princess.”
“can we not call me that while megumi’s in the car?” you mutter, glancing back, only to find megumi fully engrossed in his self-proclaimed vocal talents.
“noted.” toji snickers, shooting you another mischievous look as korn plays on, megumi happily singing about “breaking down” in the back.
“but hey,” toji says smoothly, hand resting on the gearshift, “just so you know, even my son knows a good band when he hears one.”
you roll your eyes at him, managing to mumble, “at least one of you is a bit mature.”
the porsche pulls up to the arcade with enough fanfare that heads start turning even before the engine purrs to a stop. not that the onlookers were ready for what steps out next: a towering, chiseled man looking like he’s on his way to a modeling photoshoot, a cute kid in full confidence mode, and, well… you.
still feeling a little dizzy from the korn concert that just took place, you barely register megumi bolting out of the car with a grin, leaving you and toji to get your bearings. his energy’s practically crackling by the time toji pays for the play card, and you’re pretty sure if he has to wait even one more minute, he’s about to combust.
“okay, okay, slow down, megumi,” you say, trying to keep up as he yanks you to the nearest neon-lit game.
but the kid isn’t hearing it. he’s already dragging you to one machine, and then the next, moving faster than you can process where you even are. each one is seemingly more intense and blinding than the last, and you’re hit with a sensory overload of neon lights, retro game sounds, and the feel of the arcade carpet sticking just a little too much to your shoes.
toji’s watching the whole ordeal with a bemused smirk. you and his kid are like a whirlwind of neon and laughter, barely stopping to catch your breaths between games. the sight is somehow… comforting. like a scene from a life he hadn’t planned but couldn’t help finding strangely compelling.
but then he catches himself. seriously?
he shakes his head. this is not the time to get all sentimental over his kid’s new ‘playdate’ or whatever.
he’s just here because megumi insisted, and maybe he thought it’d be amusing to watch you get dragged around by an eight-year-old with zero restraint. that’s it.
nothing more.
yeah, right. his internal grumbling comes to an abrupt stop as he watches megumi take your hand and pull you over to a classic claw machine. the kid’s looking up at you with the widest eyes you’ve ever seen, all excitement and pure innocence, like winning one of those knockoff plush toys is the pinnacle of existence.
“you got this?” you ask, grinning at him as he lines up the claw with intense concentration.
“of course! my dad showed me,” he declares, like he’s about to go pro in the claw game league.
toji, watching from a distance, feels a twinge in his chest.
yeah, he’d shown megumi how to play this game ages ago, more to give him an edge over the other kids than anything else. it was a dad-and-son thing, just the two of them. but seeing megumi look up at you with the same pride and excitement makes him feel… something.
and he doesn’t know if he likes it.
you’re so focused on megumi’s moves that you don’t notice toji’s slight frown, nor do you hear his quiet mutter of, “this is ridiculous.”
but when he sees the way your eyes light up as megumi successfully nabs a cheap stuffed animal — a lopsided dinosaur, of all things — and the way you celebrate like he’s won an olympic medal, he feels himself relax, just a little.
he chuckles, shaking his head and crossing his arms as you high-five megumi, both of you beaming over a prize that probably cost less than the game itself. but toji doesn’t move.
he stands there, rooted, as you two bounce from game to game, his thoughts too jumbled to focus on anything else.
but maybe… maybe that’s okay for now.
toji’s phone buzzes just as he’s leaning against the side of a vintage racing game, watching you and megumi practically lighting up the whole arcade with your laughter. he glances down to see satoru’s name pop up on the screen, already feeling a headache brewing.
gojo s. [12:20 pm]: so, arcade? 😏 you [12:20 pm]: yeah, i just told you. gojo s. [12:20 pm]: nah, i mean WHY the arcade? what are we celebrating here, toji? ;)) you [12:21 pm]: why does it matter gojo s. [12:21 pm]: CUZZZZ gojo s. [12:21 pm]: lemme guess, megumi's there with her now, right? gojo s. [12:22 pm]: bet they’re having the time of their lives, while YOU gojo s. [12:22 pm]: you’re just there all moody on the sidelines😔
toji glances up at you and megumi, who’ve now moved on to a skee-ball machine, both cheering as you score a perfect 50-point throw.
you [12:23 pm]: like i said, work stuff. gojo s. [12:24 pm]: HAHA. work stuff, right. gojo s. [12:24 pm]: work stuff that has megumi running around grinning like that. gojo s. [12:25 pm]: bro gojo s. [12:25 pm]: you’re terrible at lying. gojo s. [12:26 pm]: she’s a keeper if she can deal with YOU you [12:26 pm]: keep dreaming.
he slips his phone back into his pocket, unable to shake off the grin creeping onto his face as he watches you high-five megumi. the kid’s happier than he’s seen in ages, and he…
well, he can’t remember the last time he felt this relaxed watching anyone just being with his kid.
toji stands back, taking in the moment — megumi’s laughter echoing through the arcade, your smile as you lift him up with an ease that has the kid giggling uncontrollably — and for some reason, his mind has turned the whole scene into a rom-com montage.
you are the dancing queen…
it’s absurd, really.
he doesn’t even like abba. but there it is, the stupid song playing in his head, all set to the image of you holding his son, twirling him like he weighs nothing, both of you in fits of laughter.
young and sweet, only seventeen…
and for a split second, his heart does this awkward little stutter.
he chalks it up to the neon lights.
or maybe the greasy smell of the arcade food messing with his senses. but as he watches you hold megumi up, almost as if he’s flying, he can’t ignore that ridiculous, cheesy pull in his chest.
feel the beat from the tambourine, oh yeah...
oh god.
is he seriously catching himself grinning at the way you’re both trying to get him to join in? megumi’s little hand reaches out, beckoning him over, and you’re giving him that smile, that “come on, get over here, big guy” look.
you can dance, you can jive…
the song hits that soaring note in his head just as he finally gives in and starts to walk over, and his pulse actually picks up, as if he’s not just at some run-down arcade but in the middle of some ridiculously sappy rom-com finale.
having the time of your life…
and then megumi is shrieking again, calling, “dad, hurry up!” like it’s life or death, and you’re beaming at him with that mischievous, encouraging look.
toji sighs, shaking his head at himself.
just great.
the two of you have officially dragged him into your world, soundtrack and all.
toji's trying his best to lock in.
but as he walks out of the arcade — juggling not one, but four oversized plushies, two fancy new lego sets, a slinky, a bouncy ball, some glow-in-the-dark slime, and a rainbow slap bracelet — he can’t help but snort at the sheer ridiculousness of it.
between his loaded arms and megumi curled up fast asleep in yours, it’s a scene straight out of one of those cheesy family movies.
he shakes his head, trying to push down that weirdly warm feeling creeping up on him.
stay focused, toji.
he doesn't need any sappy feelings right now. he's a single dad with a kid and a job, not some washed-up rom-com character, damn it.
but watching you gently adjust megumi as he drools onto your shoulder, snuggling deeper into the crook of your arm as you carefully slide into the backseat, it’s hard not to feel that tug again.
ugh, he thinks, climbing into the driver’s seat as you buckle up up front, giving him a soft, tired smile.
“never held a kid before, huh?” he teases, eyes glancing from the road to the rearview mirror, where megumi’s still dozing, soft breaths muffling against your arm.
“nope,” you shrug, but there’s a softness to your voice as you gently rub megumi’s back, “first time for everything, i guess.”
toji’s heart does that weird skip thing again.
oh god, he thinks, gripping the wheel a little tighter as he tries to ignore the sappy old man vibe overtaking him.
the air in the car feels... charged, but it’s not like either of you are exactly leaning into the tension. instead, you both sit in this weird, awkward silence, save for the quiet hum of the radio, like you’re suddenly too aware of just being there with each other.
and then, as if the universe wanted to toy with you, iris by the goo goo dolls starts playing.
oh, god. you immediately wish you could just evaporate into the passenger seat.
“...and i’d give up forever to touch you…” the lyrics croon, filling the silence, and you can practically feel the heat crawling up your cheeks.
toji clears his throat, obviously catching it too. “radio’s on a roll, huh?”
“yep,” you say, managing a weak laugh. “i mean, this is classic… everyone listens to goo goo dolls in, uh, total silence in the car with their coworker, right?”
he glances at you, a rare, subtle smile ghosting on his lips. “totally normal.”
“and i don’t want the world to see me… ’cause i don’t think that they’d understand…”
you glance out the window, eyes focused anywhere but on him, biting back a laugh at how the song somehow keeps getting more dramatic. like, who’s writing this scene, seriously?
“just tell me where to turn,” toji says, breaking through your internal monologue, and you do, mentioning a landmark close to home, hoping he’ll take the hint.
but toji only raises an eyebrow. “near it? nah. i’m dropping you at the door.”
“oh, no, that’s really fine —” you start, but he’s already shaking his head.
“don’t worry about it,” he insists, a smirk in his voice. “besides, i remember where you live. from, you know… last time.”
wait. last time? as in… when you were embarrassingly, unapologetically wasted that night?
you want to crawl under the seat as the lyrics continue, “when everything’s made to be broken…”
so when toji pulls up in front of your apartment, there’s this odd feeling hanging in the air. you catch yourself wanting to... linger, just a little longer, even if you’re home.
and lowkey?
so does toji.
it’s like the two of you have hit this weird teenage crush level of awkward — just leaning, leaning, like there’s some invisible string pulling you closer.
he’s looking at you, and you’re looking at him, and you’re both just… stuck there. you can’t even bring yourself to reach for the door handle, and it’s the same for him.
but right as the moment peaks, a tiny, innocent voice cuts through from the backseat. “are you two going to kiss?”
megumi’s question hangs there, blunt and childlike, breaking whatever spell had you both frozen. you both jolt back, blinking as if you just woke up.
“what? no!” you blurt, practically tripping over your own denial.
your face feels like it’s about to catch fire.
toji coughs, rubbing the back of his neck, just barely suppressing a chuckle.
“kid’s got a helluva imagination,” he mutters, eyes anywhere but on you.
as you finally reach for the door handle, ready to slip out and say your goodbyes, you hear a little sniffle from the backseat.
“wait…” megumi’s voice is tiny, almost shaky. you turn around, and to your surprise, his face is scrunched up, his eyes glistening with tears that he’s trying so hard to hold back.
“hey, hey, what’s wrong?” you ask, twisting around in your seat to face him. “i’ll see you again, kiddo.”
but his lower lip wobbles, and suddenly he bursts into full-on tears, clutching the giant plushie he won at the arcade. “b-but i don’t want you to leave!” he sobs, voice cracking. “can’t you stay just a little longer?”
toji’s eyes widen; he looks genuinely shocked.
“megumi, you’re fine, she’s not going anywhere forever. what’s gotten into you?” he tries to keep his tone steady, but there’s an undercurrent of surprise.
megumi doesn’t cry.
ever.
this is new territory.
megumi just shakes his head, burying his face into the plushie. “but she’s nice,” he mumbles, muffled but insistent. “and she plays games with me and —” he peeks out from the plushie with red, teary eyes. “and she talks to me like you do.”
you feel something stir in your chest at his words, this overwhelming urge to hug him even though you’d sworn up and down just an hour ago you didn’t know how to handle kids.
“aw, megumi,” you say softly, reaching over and giving his little hand a squeeze. “i’ll still see you, i promise. maybe we can even play again sometime, okay?”
“but you’re leaving now,” he says, his voice quivering, clutching your hand with a desperation that tugs at your heart.
“and daddy didn’t even kiss you.”
the absolute silence that follows is deafening.
you feel your face go redder than it’s ever been, and a glance at toji shows he’s equally flustered, mouth opening and closing as if he’s trying to find some way to steer this conversation back to normal.
“whoa, hey now,” toji says, forcing a laugh as he clears his throat. “that’s, uh — that’s not how it works, kid.” he ruffles megumi’s hair a little too hard, clearly floundering. “and hey, don’t go crying over someone just leaving for the night, you’re stronger than that.”
“i don’t care,” megumi sniffles, clutching your hand tighter. “i like her. and she makes you smile.”
toji freezes, the color draining from his face for just a split second.
makes him smile.
he doesn’t even realize he’s been smiling, maybe more in one day than he has in months. he glances at you, brow furrowed like he’s trying to make sense of it himself.
“well…” toji’s voice is softer now, almost cautious, like he’s testing out words he hasn’t said in a long time. “
maybe… maybe she could come around again. if she wants to, that is.”
“i do.” you answer without thinking, your gaze drifting to megumi’s tear-streaked face, which immediately lights up.
“really?” megumi’s eyes shine, practically bouncing in his seat. “you promise?”
“i promise,” you say with a smile, giving him a reassuring nod. “as long as it’s okay with you and your dad, of course.”
“’s fine,” toji grumbles, running a hand over his face to hide his slight grin. “besides, someone’s gotta teach you a lesson or two at the arcade next time.”
“is that a challenge, toji?” you quip, smirking. “because if i remember right, megumi here got more tickets than both of us combined.”
“that’s because i taught him everything he knows,” toji scoffs, rolling his eyes as if he can’t believe he’s even entertaining this.
megumi sniffles one last time, his eyes practically glowing with happiness. “then… you’ll come over soon, right?”
“absolutely,” you say, warmth bubbling up in your chest as you meet his hopeful gaze. “but only if you promise to keep practicing at the arcade. gotta keep that winning streak going, right?”
megumi grins, finally letting go of your hand as he settles back with a contented sigh. “deal.”
toji just shakes his head, muttering something about the “drama” gene clearly skipping a generation, though the smile tugging at his lips says otherwise.
as you unbuckle your seatbelt, ready to say goodbye, you feel the car click with the unmistakable sound of the child lock. you glance back at megumi, who’s nodding off against his plushie pile, and back at toji, who’s already climbing out to walk you up to your door.
gentlemanly of him, sure.
though, the way his eyes linger on you… there’s more to it than that.
“i could’ve walked myself, you know,” you say, falling into step beside him as you head up to your building. “it’s not that far.”
“maybe i just felt like making sure you didn’t trip and embarrass yourself,” he shoots back, smirking as he nudges your shoulder.
“very chivalrous, fushiguro,” you reply, rolling your eyes but grinning anyway. “honestly, you’re like a walking textbook definition of ‘gentleman.’”
“yeah, well,” he clears his throat, looking just a bit smug. “maybe i was raised right. or maybe,” his voice drops a little lower, “i just wanted an excuse to stick around a little longer.”
you blink, caught off guard by the soft rasp in his voice, the way his eyes are just a bit darker under the porch light.
“oh,” is all you manage, though your heartbeat’s doing a little somersault. “well… uh. here’s my door.”
“guess it is,” he murmurs, eyes glinting as he takes a step closer, leaning against the doorframe like he’s meant to be there, like he’s settled in the idea of being right here, with you.
“y’know… not a bad place to end the night.”
“yeah,” you say, feeling the words catch in your throat as you gaze up at him, taking in every detail, every shadow. “definitely not bad.”
the two of you are just standing there, a little too close, the space between you narrowing with every unspoken word. he glances down at your lips, and your pulse spikes — he’s thinking it too, right? but just as the moment seems to reach its tipping point, toji smirks, a flash of mischief in his eyes.
“you know,” he says, raising an eyebrow. “still can’t believe you’re the same girl who wrote that… what was it again?” he chuckles, clearly remembering. “oh, right — ‘her legs wrapped around him like a vice, his name spilling from her lips like honey’.”
your face goes nuclear.
that line.
of all the lines, that one?
“you… you remember that?” you manage, mortified.
“’course i remember,” he says, that smug smirk firmly in place. “you think i just skimmed through your stuff?”
“well — i — ” your words are a mess, barely coherent. “i mean, i just thought —”
“nah, i’ve been reading it all.” his voice is low, almost a whisper as he leans just a little closer, his fingers lightly brushing your arm. “you’ve got quite the imagination.”
“s-shut up,” you stammer, unable to meet his gaze. “i was just… doing my job.”
“i know,” he says, voice soft but unyielding. “you’ve got talent.”
there’s a beat, silence stretching between you, the weight of his words settling over the both of you.
“...and you’ve got this whole heartthrob thing going for you,” you blurt out, finally meeting his eyes with a nervous laugh. “kind of makes it hard to believe you’re my colleague.”
“heartthrob, huh?” he smirks, voice dipping lower as his fingers drift to your chin, tilting your face up.
“so that’s what you think of me?”
“i — i mean…” you stammer, your heart racing as you look into his eyes, feeling your cheeks burn. “maybe a little. just… a tiny bit.”
“tiny?” he murmurs, his lips barely an inch away. “could’ve sworn you looked a little more than just ‘tiny’ interested.”
“oh yeah?” your voice is a whisper now, almost breathless as you feel his breath on your skin, his gaze never wavering. “what if i was?”
“then i’d probably do this,” he mutters, his hand sliding up to cradle your face, and before you know it, his lips are on yours, soft and warm and impossibly gentle.
your breath catches, and instinctively, you lean into him, letting his kiss deepen, his hand tracing slow, lazy patterns against your cheek. it’s everything you’d imagined and somehow even better, his presence grounding and electric all at once.
when he finally pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, his eyes soft but searching. “so… do i still get to be a heartthrob?”
“only if i still get to be the girl with the cringe smut,” you murmur back, grinning like an idiot.
“deal,” he says, chuckling as he pulls you in for another kiss, his lips brushing yours like a promise.
ah, shit.
as toji slips back into the car, he barely manages to close the door before megumi’s voice hits him like a lightning bolt.
“daddy kissed the pretty lady!” megumi shrieks, pointing an accusatory finger from the backseat. “i saw it! you have that weird face on!”
toji’s eyebrows shoot up. “weird face? what weird face?” he tries to play it cool, adjusting the rearview mirror, but the ghost of that kiss is still painted on his lips, his pulse betraying him with every beat.
“that smile,” megumi says, wrinkling his nose in a perfect mirror of his dad’s usual expression of disdain. “you look like a… like a…” he pauses, searching for the right words. “...like a love puppy!”
toji chokes, stifling a laugh. “a love puppy? where the hell did you get that from?”
“it’s a thing, daddy,” megumi huffs, crossing his arms. “you have that goofy look, and your face is all soft. you only look like that when you’re being weird.”
“me? weird?” toji glances in the mirror, catching megumi’s glare. “kid, i think you’ve got this all wrong.”
“no, i don’t!” megumi insists, practically bouncing in his seat. “you were all ‘goo-goo eyes’ and ‘smoochy-smoochy’ and ‘mwah mwah mwah!’” he makes exaggerated kissing sounds, complete with squished-up lips and hand gestures, utterly scandalized by his dad’s sudden transformation.
“alright, alright, enough with the ‘mwah mwah.’” toji tries to suppress a laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “you’ve been watching too many cartoons.”
megumi shakes his head, his expression serious. “nope. i knew it. i knew you liked her.” he narrows his eyes, as if seeing through toji’s very soul. “so… are you gonna marry her?”
toji’s eyes go wide.
“whoa, whoa, hold on. nobody said anything about marriage.”
“but if you kiss someone, that means you wanna be with them forever, right?” megumi asks earnestly, looking way too wise for his age.
toji stares ahead, caught off-guard by the kid’s earnestness.
that kiss… he didn’t plan it. he didn’t even know he was going to do it until he’d leaned in, felt the spark pull him closer. but now?
yeah, the idea of just walking away feels… wrong. he tightens his grip on the steering wheel, his mind racing.
“kid, sometimes people just… feel things, okay?” he says, his voice softer, more introspective. “even if they don’t really know why.”
megumi tilts his head, watching his dad closely. “so you do like her, then?”
toji snorts, pulling the car out onto the road. “alright, detective, settle down back there. no more snooping.”
they drive in a comfortable silence for a moment, but the radio has other plans.
as if on cue, the familiar, aching chords of iris by the goo goo dolls come through the speakers, and toji swears he could feel the universe laughing at him.
“and i don’t want the world to see me, ’cause i don’t think that they’d understand…”
toji clenches his jaw, feeling the lyrics press into him, each line stirring something restless and warm in his chest. he’s always been a guy with his walls up, always knew the stakes were too high to let anyone in.
but tonight… tonight, he let his guard down. just for a second.
he kissed you, tasted the softness of your lips, and the spark left him reeling.
“when everything’s meant to be broken, i just want you to know who i am…”
“daddy?” megumi’s voice breaks through his thoughts. “do you think… maybe you could see her again? so she could come play with us?”
toji blinks, glancing at megumi in the rearview mirror. “you really like her, huh?”
megumi nods vigorously. “yeah! she’s… nice. and fun.” his face softens. “and… she made you look happy.”
toji’s heart gives a strange, unfamiliar twist at that.
happy, huh?
he’s been around the block long enough to know that happiness isn’t exactly his best friend. but sitting here, listening to megumi, feeling that residual warmth from your kiss… it makes him wonder.
wonder what life could look like with you in it.
but he pushes the thought away, focusing on the road. doesn’t change the fact that you’re just his colleague. right?
“and i’d give up forever to touch you…”
ugh.
he shifts uncomfortably, hoping megumi doesn’t notice his knuckles going white on the steering wheel.
that kiss wasn’t just some fleeting thing — he’d known it the second he felt the warmth of you linger even after pulling away. the idea of letting you go now feels… impossible. something’s tugging him back, making him want more.
“hey, daddy,” megumi pipes up again, breaking toji’s brooding. “you got that look again.”
“what look?” toji mutters, trying to focus on anything but the goofy grin creeping back onto his face.
megumi smirks, mimicking toji’s soft expression. “that ‘i kissed a pretty lady’ look!”
toji laughs, shaking his head as he glances at megumi in the rearview mirror. “alright, alright. i guess you caught me.”
and as he drives home, the final notes of iris playing softly through the car, he can’t shake the feeling that this… whatever this is… isn’t something he’s ready to let go of.
ah, shit.
as soon as toji sets megumi down on his bed, tucking him in amongst the mountain of ridiculous plushies he’d somehow won at the arcade, he heads back to his room. sliding his phone out, he finds himself doing something he never thought he’d do: texting gojo. of all people.
with a reluctant sigh, he taps out a message, feeling a pang of embarrassment he can’t shake.
you [8:47 pm]: how long’s her contract with gojo sonic?
a moment later, he watches the screen, regretting even reaching out. but, of course, gojo wastes no time with a reply.
gojo s. [8:50 pm]: ohohohohooooo her contract??? gojo s. [8:50 pm]: i knew it. you’re smitten. you [8:51 pm]: don’t start. gojo s. [8:51 pm]: too late! c’mon, dish it out, big guy. gojo s. [8:51 pm]: you guys had a moment, huh? the chemistry finally snapped? what’d ya do, kiss her?
toji clenches his jaw, hesitating before typing back. his thumb hovers, wondering how much grief he’d get for saying yes. finally, he mutters a curse under his breath and just goes for it.
you [8:53 pm]: ...yeah, i kissed her. happy?
he can practically feel gojo’s cackle vibrating through the phone.
gojo s. [8:53 pm]: WHAT??? gojo s. [8:53 pm]: WAIT. gojo s. [8:53 pm]: oh, i need details. gojo s. [8:53 pm]: full play-by-play. gojo s. [8:53 pm]: like was it one of those slow, cinematic moments? gojo s. [8:54 pm]: or was it a grab and smooch kinda deal??
toji rolls his eyes, fighting off a grin he refuses to admit is there. of all the reactions, he’d been prepared for gojo’s nosiness, but it’s still as annoying as ever.
you [8:55 pm]: shut it. i already said too much. gojo s. [8:55 pm]: pfffff as if i’m letting you get away with that tidbit and no context. gojo s. [8:55 pm]: did she look at you all wide-eyed? gojo s. [8:55 pm]: did you do that thing with your voice?? gojo s. [8:56 pm]: or was it just an accidental, “oh no, we tripped into each other’s faces” sorta thing?
toji rubs his temples, trying to block out how much his stupid heart rate picks up just remembering the way you looked up at him, the softness of your lips, the way it all felt so natural. he shakes his head, forcing the memory aside.
you [8:57 pm]: none of your business, and it’s private. you [8:57 pm]: don’t you dare send any of this to suguru. gojo s. [8:57 pm]: oh relax! suguru’s not that nosy. gojo s. [8:57 pm]: okay maybe he is. gojo s. [8:58 pm]: but he’s a romantic. gojo s. [8:58 pm]: think of it as getting free relationship coaching!! you [9:00 pm]: i swear to god satoru i’ll leave the company if you spill this.
there’s a pause, and for a second toji hopes that maybe he’s scared gojo off.
but, predictably, the next message makes his blood pressure spike.
gojo s. [9:05 pm]: ohhhhh no no you’re not getting off that easy. gojo s. [9:05 pm]: i’m calling dibs on being the flower girl at your wedding. suguru can be the maid of honor. gojo s. [9:06 pm]: no nvm he’d wanna be the best man gojo s. [9:06 pm]: I’LL GET MEGUMI TO CARRY THE RINGS gojo s. [9:06 pm]: genius.
toji practically growls at his phone, already regretting every second of this conversation.
you [9:07 pm]: i’ll delete this whole damn thread. this never happened, got it? gojo s. [9:09 pm]: aww, toji bear, don’t be like that. i’ll take care of your little love story for you, promise. consider me your personal wingman. gojo s. [9:10 pm]: now tell me this — when’s round two of smooch central happening? you [9:11 pm]: goodnight, satoru.
and with that, he shoves his phone onto his nightstand, rubbing his face with a hand. he can still feel the lingering warmth of that kiss, the way his heart skipped, the unexpected tenderness that’s lodged itself in his mind.
stupid.
he shouldn’t have even told gojo.
but as much as he regrets letting it slip, he doesn’t regret the kiss itself.
not even a bit.
as soon as you slam your door shut, you just… stand there for a minute, heart racing, and press your fingers to your lips like it’ll somehow reverse what just happened.
you kissed toji fushiguro.
the toji fushiguro.
colleague extraordinaire, with biceps that could probably benchpress your entire life’s savings, and that smirk… oh god, that smirk that had you in a daze.
but the problem?
there was a mini him there.
a little him with matching black hair and a sharp gaze.
you thought he was, like, the cool uncle? but… he’s a dad?
and if he’s a dad… does that mean he’s married? are you the other woman?!
you pace around, practically stomping into the carpet.
“okay, okay, let’s think this through,” you mutter, putting your hands on your hips.
“he… he could be a single dad, right? it’s 2024, it’s not that weird for people to have kids without, like, commitment commitments. but then again, he does look like the type who’d… i don’t know, maybe be exclusive? probably?”
your brain is racing, and you’re spinning yourself into circles.
“i mean, i haven’t seen a ring on his finger… but maybe he just doesn’t wear it?” you plop down on your couch, practically sinking into it as you cover your face with both hands.
ugh.
“did i just kiss a married man? or worse… what if he’s, like, engaged? or has a live-in girlfriend? or — oh my god, what if he’s in some high-profile relationship and i just stepped into the middle of it? —”
you groan, flopping back. “but he… he definitely leaned in first. i’m not hallucinating. he did! but then, if he’s that willing to kiss me, does that mean he’s… a cheater?”
you sit up and shake your head, wide-eyed. “okay, no, i refuse to believe that toji fushiguro, mr. brooding and brooding-er with a kid who listens to korn, is a cheater. there’s no way… right?”
your own voice is almost pleading as you try to convince yourself, pacing again.
“i mean, maybe he’s just… really, really committed to… being mysterious. yeah, that makes sense. he’s keeping everything a secret, so that just leaves me spiraling about him… perfect. just perfect.”
you smack a hand against your forehead. “why couldn’t i have asked literally any of this earlier?” you shake your head. “right, because i was too busy kissing him.”
you throw yourself back onto the couch and stare at the ceiling, the whole thing replaying in your head.
that look he gave you, the warmth of his hand on your back…
stop.
but it’s too late. your brain keeps running with it.
“what if… what if he has no idea i’m freaking out?” you frown. “oh, he probably doesn’t. and here i am, making a whole drama out of one kiss.” you let out a deep sigh.
you flop onto your bed, heart still pounding, and stare up at the ceiling, fingers absently grazing your lips.
burning loins, they said. melting from one kiss, they said.
well, no one exactly said that — except every steamy novel you’ve ever read or written, but that’s beside the point.
you groan, kicking your feet up in frustration. this isn’t one of your own novels! it’s supposed to be real life! but now here you are, in the aftermath of what was arguably the best kiss you’ve ever had, practically combusting at the memory of it.
“if one kiss with toji — no, any man — can get me this hot and bothered, how am i supposed to handle it if i ever… you know…” your voice trails off, and you turn over, burying your face into the pillow as if it’ll smother the absurd train of thought.
but then, just as you start to get your mind off it, his face pops back up in your head.
“oh god,” you mumble, pulling the pillow over your face. “this is pathetic.” you roll over again, laughing helplessly to yourself.
if this is what one or two kisses do to me… what’ll happen if we actually have sex?
your eyes snap open. “okay, no. no! i didn’t mean toji, i meant, like… any guy! any guy at all! but, oh god, why is it always him?!”
you stare at the ceiling, huffing as your brain keeps looping back to him.
his stupidly attractive smirk, the way his hand was firm but gentle on your back, how he looked at you as if you were his next breath.
girl, get a grip.
“this is ridiculous,” you mutter, swatting at your face like it’ll erase his image from your mind. but it doesn’t work; he’s right there, all hot and smug in your imagination. ugh, this isn’t fair!
it’s like all those countless hours you spent spinning erotic fantasies are coming back to haunt you — and in the most inconvenient, infuriating way possible. you scrunch up your face, realizing with mild horror that maybe… just maybe… you wrote this scenario into existence for yourself.
“oh no… is this karma?” you groan, curling up and swatting the air in helpless embarrassment. “girl, this is not supposed to happen in real life. or with toji.”
but there it is: his face, and your wildly racing heart, and the undeniable, excruciating heat pooling in your belly that refuses to quit.
but even with the spiraling, there’s one thing you can’t deny: as much as it’s driving you crazy, as much as you’re practically scaring yourself into thinking you’ve just made the worst mistake of your life…
you kinda don’t regret it. and that’s the scariest part.
ah, shit.
you step into gojo-sonic, clutching your bag with a little more intensity than usual, and it’s as if you’ve entered an alternate dimension.
the energy is somehow… different. you expect to be greeted with the usual casual nods and waves, but instead, gojo is practically skipping toward you, arms spread wide like he’s welcoming the new queen of the recording studio.
“there she is! our star of the show, our resident heart-throb wrangler!” he coos, louder than necessary. his grin is blinding, and you’re caught between the urge to backpedal out of the building or dive under the nearest desk.
“uh… good morning?” you reply, more like a question than a statement, glancing around to see if anyone else is picking up on his hyperness. it’s like he’s had twelve cups of coffee or ten bags of skittles. “gojo, you’re… kind of extra today.”
“extra? extra?” he throws a hand over his heart, eyes gleaming. “honey, i’m never just ‘extra.’ i am exactly the right amount of gojo for the occasion.”
“and what occasion is that, exactly?”
“oh, nothing much, just a certain someone having an… enlightening encounter last night,” he says with a wink so exaggerated it looks like he’s trying to shoo a bug off his face.
you stiffen. “wait, how do you…?”
“oh, come on,” he waves it off, laughing. “you think you can keep something like that from me? i mean, i might be blessed with an enormous amount of talent, looks, and charisma, but i also happen to have eyes and ears everywhere.” he taps his temple, looking ridiculously pleased with himself.
“seriously?” you glance around, your stomach sinking a little, looking for any sign of smirking coworkers or curious eyes, but everyone’s just… normal? going about their business, not sparing you a second glance. relief washes over you, only to be swept away by gojo’s piercing stare.
“oh, don’t worry. i haven’t shared your scandalous rendezvous with the world. only i am privy to this delightful information — for now,” he adds, wagging a finger. “and don’t look so shocked! nothing juicy stays hidden from me for long. i know all the company secrets.”
you feel heat rise to your cheeks, equal parts exasperated and embarrassed. “gojo, it wasn’t even that big of a deal. it’s not like…” you trail off, realizing he’s hanging on to your every word, eyes sparkling with mischief.
“uh-huh,” he drawls, drawing the word out. “not a big deal, you say? then why do you look like you’re about to start sweating bullets?”
“i’m not sweating bullets,” you say through clenched teeth, then give in and sigh. “look, we just… it was just a… i mean, we’re colleagues, and things got a little… friendly. it doesn’t have to mean anything!”
gojo gasps, mock-horrified. “oh, but darling, this is precisely why it’s so interesting! you, of all people, getting caught up with toji fushiguro? and here i thought you’d sworn off office romances.”
“it’s not an office romance,” you insist, voice practically a whisper. “we just… kissed. once. or twice. maybe. but it doesn’t mean anything!”
gojo leans in, conspiratorially. “and yet you look ready to combust from the inside out just talking about it.”
you huff, throwing him a half-hearted glare. “maybe it’s because someone is making this into a bigger deal than it actually is.”
“you wound me!” he presses a hand dramatically to his chest, giving you an exaggerated pout. “but don’t worry, your little secret is safe with me. i only told you so you’d know that i know. and, you know, to make things extra awkward in case mr. heart-throb walks in.”
“oh, so you’re really just out to make my life difficult?”
he grins, all teeth. “precisely.”
just then, as if summoned by some cruel twist of fate, toji strolls in. he’s the absolute picture of normalcy, no hint whatsoever of last night’s… moment.
in fact, he gives you a polite nod, a polite nod, as if he hadn’t had you pressed against your own door just hours ago.
“morning,” he says casually, voice smooth, tone nonchalant. he doesn’t even so much as smirk.
you nearly choke. polite nod? normal greeting? did he forget the entire thing?
“oh, morning,” you manage, clearing your throat, feeling like you’re about to combust again.
gojo, however, is having the time of his life. he’s practically vibrating next to you, watching the exchange with glee.
“morninggg, fushiguro,” he greets toji, voice syrupy with unrestrained glee. “any exciting news today?”
toji raises an eyebrow, shooting him a confused look. “uh, no? everything’s pretty normal.” his eyes flick over to you, calm, almost neutral, as if he hadn’t kissed you senseless just last night.
you clench your jaw. is he really going to act like this? you nearly feel like gaslighting yourself into thinking last night never happened. maybe you just dreamed it, right?
toji’s gaze flicks away from you, unperturbed, as he moves over to get his things ready for the day’s recording. and that’s when gojo leans over and mutters under his breath, “you sure you don’t want to just… remind him?”
“i hate you,” you mutter back, trying not to smile, knowing that he’s secretly rooting for you to fall flat on your face with this whole ordeal.
“i live for your misery, my friend,” he replies with a wink.
meanwhile, toji was absolutely in another dimension of romcom chaos himself, feeling like some kind of high school kid who just had his first crush. he woke up grinning, actually giggling as he got dressed.
giggling. when was the last time he did that?
he nearly skipped out the door, and on his drive to work, he found himself humming, humming, to his car stereo like some lovestruck fool. and he didn’t stop there. oh no.
by the time he reached gojo-sonic, he’d already run through a few extra vocal warm-ups in the car — something he never did this early. he cleared his throat and ran through his usual lines twice, even testing his pitch a bit. no, not because he wanted to be extra smooth today, of course not. he was doing it for the… for the paycheck.
definitely.
but as soon as he walked into the studio, and he saw you standing there beside gojo, looking all kinds of pretty and polished… he practically heard violins. except no, it wasn’t violins.
it was, somehow, worse.
his mind cued up dancing queen.
“no. nope. nope.” he muttered under his breath, trying to swat the ridiculous soundtrack out of his mind. but it wouldn’t stop.
“dancing queen, feel the beat from the tambourine, oh, yeah….”
why, in the name of all things sacred, was his brain doing this to him? he was toji fushiguro, not some idiot falling over his own feet for a girl at work. he gave himself a good shake, squared his shoulders, and tried to keep his composure. yet every time he caught your eye, his chest did a little flip — and dammit if he didn’t want to just pick you up and give you another kiss right then and there.
“morning,” he forced out, nodding as casually as he could.
and there you were, gaping back with that hint of nervousness, looking like you might combust from just a regular “good morning.”
god, it was almost cute enough to make him actually laugh out loud.
“she’s just a colleague,” he reminded himself, over and over again, as he worked to keep the grin off his face. “a colleague. not some romcom lead you just made out with in front of her apartment.”
yet the way dancing queen kept droning in his head, as if mocking his every move? toji was seriously questioning whether he’d woken up in some kind of alternate reality.
and he just knew gojo was watching the whole thing with a smug look, likely dying to crack a joke, or worse, belt out dancing queen if he somehow figured out what was in toji’s head.
and knowing gojo? he probably already had.
the studio door clicked shut as gojo swept out with an exaggerated bow, holding up his finger in a silent “one minute” before he launched into his call with suguru in a voice loud enough to be heard two floors down. gojo was probably already going on about the “incredible chemistry” between his favorite team members, or whatever nonsense he’d decided on for today.
and with him out of the room, it was just you and toji.
alone.
in silence.
you shifted on your feet, eyes darting everywhere except directly at him, yet somehow landing right back on him. it was like your brain had a toji magnet switched on, and no matter how hard you tried to look elsewhere, you found yourself glancing back at him.
finally, the quiet got so charged that you both ended up blurting out at the exact same time —
“are you single?”
you both froze, then looked at each other, wide-eyed, like you couldn’t believe you’d just asked that out loud.
“uh,” toji coughed, scratching the back of his neck. “well. yeah, i am. single, that is.
“oh.” you tried to act cool, but it came out as a slightly breathless squeak. “good to know.”
“and you?” he asked, voice low, almost cautious, as if bracing himself for an answer he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear.
“also single,” you admitted, feeling your cheeks warm under his gaze. “which… is also good to know.”
there was a beat of quiet where you both just kind of looked at each other, a half-smile creeping onto his face as you kept shifting on your feet, practically melting under the intensity of his gaze.
“so…” you cleared your throat, your hands fidgeting a little as you gathered the nerve to ask the next thing. “didn’t know you had a kid.”
“oh, yeah.” toji chuckled, a hint of fondness lighting up his expression as he thought of his son. “he’s my kid, alright. handful and a half, that one.”
“he’s adorable.” you smiled, thinking back to the mini toji who had totally stolen your heart. “how old is he?”
“eight.” toji’s voice softened, a rare warmth in his tone that you’d never heard before. “he, uh… he means a lot to me. not that i’d ever tell him that, though. don’t want him thinking he’s got me wrapped around his little finger or anything.”
you laughed, picturing the little boy with his big grin and fearless energy. “something tells me he already knows.”
“yeah, probably.” toji laughed too, and for a moment, there was an ease between you, a shared warmth that made the whole moment feel so… natural.
“so… um, are you, like… a single dad?” you asked, careful with your words, not wanting to pry too deeply.
“yeah.” his answer was simple, but there was a weight to it. “just me and the kid. been that way for a while.”
“that’s…” you bit your lip, not sure what to say without sounding weirdly sentimental. “that’s admirable. megumi’s lucky to have you.
“i don’t know about all that,” he muttered, clearly uncomfortable with the praise but unable to hide a small smile. “just doing what i can, you know?”
“still,” you said, feeling a swell of admiration you hadn’t expected. “it’s impressive. and honestly… seeing you with him yesterday? it was… kinda heartwarming.”
toji looked at you, eyes softening in a way that made your heart stutter.
“thanks,” he murmured, his voice almost a whisper. “means a lot, hearing that.”
the two of you stood there, closer than you realized, in this weird bubble where everything felt warm and intense and perfect. just as you felt that strange magnetic pull drawing you closer, like maybe you’d just close the gap and —
the studio door banged open.
“don’t stop on my account!” gojo sing-songed, practically sashaying back into the room, a smirk plastered across his face.
you both leaped back, clearing your throats and suddenly finding the walls, the floor, anything else in the room utterly fascinating.
“alright, lovebirds, let’s get this recording started, shall we?” gojo grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he looked between the two of you, not even pretending he hadn’t just caught a whole moment.
toji settled into the recording booth, leaning back in the chair with the script in hand, his voice dipping to that low, gravelly tone that made every line sound like an invitation.
“so,” he began, speaking as the dragon king to the main character in the script, his words practically dripping with intensity, “you think you can resist me? i see right through you… even the bravest warriors have trembled at my touch.”
your breath caught as he delivered the line, eyes wide as you watched him through the glass.
you couldn’t help it — his character was practically staring into your soul, voice thick and slow, practically wrapping around each word.
“do you know what happens to those who challenge me?” toji continued, his eyes narrowing as he held the script in one hand, his gaze piercing. “they are forced to surrender… one way or another.”
outside the booth, you practically felt yourself melting, feeling a flush creep up your cheeks as you fidgeted with the edge of your shirt.
toji’s voice, his delivery — it was all too much. how was it possible for him to sound that… that intense? it was like he was actually speaking to you.
“ah, beautiful.” gojo, standing beside you, broke in with a theatrical sigh. “our dragon king sounds magnificent, doesn’t he? i could practically faint!”
you shot him a quick glare, barely masking a smirk. “keep it down, gojo. he’s in the middle of it.”
“oh, i’m just here to appreciate the artistry,” gojo whispered back, feigning innocence as he leaned in to watch, hands clasped together dramatically.
“the choice is yours,” toji went on, his voice softer now, laced with something tender that made it impossible to look away. “join me… or keep pretending this —” he emphasized the word, letting it linger “ — isn’t exactly what you’ve been wanting.”
you swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his gaze even through the glass.
was he delivering that line as the dragon king or as… well, toji?
but then —
“ohhhh!” gojo chimed in loudly, clutching his chest as if he’d been struck by an arrow. “the passion! the romance! our hero’s heart is pounding!”
toji paused, rolling his eyes as he looked at gojo through the glass. “you really gonna keep interrupting, gojo?”
“oh, don’t mind me,” gojo said, waving a hand. “i’m simply enjoying the magic in the air! please, carry on. do go on.” he pretended to dab at his eyes. “so moving.”
toji gave a small sigh but threw you a barely-there smile before settling back into character.
“and when you finally stop running…” his voice softened, a quiet urgency threading through it.
“i’ll be here, waiting… because you belong to me, whether you admit it or not.”
your heart skipped a beat, and you found yourself leaning in, hanging onto every word, caught up in the sheer pull of his voice.
you didn’t know if it was his talent as a voice actor, the lines he was reading, or him, but every word was drawing you in deeper, bit by bit.
“ah, what is it like to be so passionately claimed by a dragon king? how riveting!” gojo murmured dramatically, as if providing a play-by-play to an audience. “she’s helpless, entranced! they both know she’s falling!”
toji cast a pointed look at gojo, barely concealing a smirk. “you done yet, gojo?”
gojo merely grinned, shrugging. “hey, i’m just here to make sure the romance shines through. and oh, don’t worry — it’s definitely shining.”
toji rolled his eyes but kept going, lowering his voice to a rumbling murmur. “if you don’t know where your heart lies, then i’ll show you.”
he paused, his words lingering in the air like a promise, like he was speaking directly to you.
by now, the studio felt suffused with tension, thick enough to cut with a knife. it didn’t help that every time gojo piped in with another comment, it only made you feel more painfully aware of every detail: the way toji’s gaze kept flickering your way, the way your own pulse raced faster with each line he spoke.
“the truth is right in front of you,” toji continued, his voice dropping low, rough, something smoldering behind each word. “all you have to do is reach out… and claim it.”
“gorgeous! breathtaking!” gojo burst out, clapping his hands loudly. “i can practically see the sparks flying! ah, young love!”
toji finally broke character, raising a brow at gojo with a look of pure exasperation. “you gonna let me finish or not?”
gojo waved a hand. “fine, fine. but for real — if you two don’t kiss after this, i might have to stage a re-shoot.”
both you and toji threw your hands up simultaneously, voices raised in exasperation.
“gojo, would you please stop interrupting!”
“yeah, seriously, man,” toji added, shaking his head as he glanced over at you with a shared look of pure frustration.
“okay, okay! sheesh!” gojo shrieked, actually shrieked, as he staggered back in mock terror, clutching his chest like he’d been mortally wounded. “all i wanted was to witness some workplace romance! is that so wrong?”
“yes, gojo, very wrong,” you shot back, rubbing your temples. “this is literally supposed to be professional — you should know that.”
toji snorted, crossing his arms as he smirked at gojo. “for once, i agree. you’ve got all the dramatic flair of a middle-schooler.”
“excuse me,” gojo replied, flipping an imaginary hair strand over his shoulder. “i’ll have you know my artistic eye is very advanced.” he let out a huff, but from the grin on his face, you could tell he was thoroughly enjoying himself.
you shook your head, exasperated. “look, can we just get this recording done without any more —”
“interruptions,” toji finished for you, raising a brow as he glanced over at gojo.
“fine, fine!” gojo finally backed off, dramatically sliding into a chair in the corner, arms folded in mock offense. “i’ll be silent as a stone. a beautiful, thoughtful stone.”
you exchanged another look with toji, both of you sighing in unison.
something told you both that it was going to be a very long day, especially with gojo’s creative direction…
toji, after finishing a solid block of recording, had ended up chatting with the sound techs, leaving you flipping through your phone while you waited.
gojo, in his usual meddling fashion, suddenly brightened up and declared, “oh! why don’t you have a little chat with suguru? i told him you were here. he insisted on saying hello!”
you raised an eyebrow. “uh, sure?”
gojo sent you a link to join the video call, and soon suguru’s face popped up on the screen. his calm expression softened slightly when he saw you. “well, hello there. gojo wasn’t exaggerating when he said he had a new ‘star’ at the studio.”
you laughed, feeling a bit flustered. “thanks, geto! i hear you’re a partner at a... famous wine company?”
suguru gave a modest shrug. “yeah, it’s called persephone. it’s a small project that grew bigger than i expected. i handle a lot of the sourcing and marketing — keeps me away from here most of the time.”
“persephone? i’ve heard great things about it!” you said, genuinely impressed. “the way gojo talks about it, it sounds like a pretty big deal.”
he chuckled, glancing to the side as if recalling memories. “i started it with a... friend, actually. she was passionate about wine and had a vision that i couldn’t help but support. i guess i have a soft spot for her, and i... well, care about her a lot.”
you felt your heart warm a little at his sincerity, and the slight hesitation when he spoke of his partner. “it sounds like you two have something special going on,” you said, offering a supportive smile. “i’m sure she appreciates everything you do, especially with how involved you are. and honestly? best of luck. that kind of partnership sounds really meaningful.”
suguru gave a small nod, a faint, appreciative smile on his face.
“thank you. i think she’d like you. maybe one day, if you ever make it out here for one of gojo’s wild wine-tasting parties, we can all meet up.”
“i’d love that!” you replied, already imagining how intriguing that partnership might be. and as you finished up the conversation, it struck you that you’d gotten a glimpse of a different side of suguru — one he clearly didn’t reveal often.
toji hadn’t meant to get distracted, but the second he saw you on a video call with suguru, laughing over whatever he was saying, he couldn’t help it. he’d been halfway listening to the sound tech drone on about waveform patterns, but all of that faded when he caught sight of you smiling on-screen.
who exactly were you talking to like that? why did you look so happy?
the tech was still talking beside him, but toji’s focus was elsewhere.
suguru.
that damn calm, collected face of his.
the same suguru who he’d seen only sparingly around the company, mostly through gojo’s random updates, but who was still one of the few people gojo actually respected.
toji squinted, his jaw tightening as he took a few steps toward you and pretended it was a casual stroll.
why was he doing this? it wasn’t like he had any claim on you, right?
sure, there was that one kiss — or, well, those two kisses, actually.
but still.
he was a grown man, not some jealous kid. yet here he was, feeling like he had to size up suguru over a damn screen.
before he even realized it, toji had closed the distance. without asking, he leaned over your shoulder, practically shoving his face into the camera view as he met suguru’s face.
“hey, suguru,” he drawled, and the way his voice came out a little gruff didn’t escape him. “didn’t know you were interrupting a busy studio day here.”
you blinked, wide-eyed at his sudden closeness, but toji kept his eyes on suguru, ignoring your flustered reaction. suguru looked almost amused, raising an eyebrow at toji’s unannounced intrusion.
“toji. i’m just saying hi to the new talent here,” suguru replied with a smooth smile, clearly unfazed. “i’m sure you wouldn’t mind me meeting one of satoru’s top finds.”
“top find?” toji scoffed, feeling a weird pang at the words. “i’m the one doing all the work here.”
you shot him a look, somewhere between surprised and amused. “toji —”
but he just grunted and kept going, ignoring your attempt to intervene. “so, suguru, been busy with all that wine business, huh?” he went on, as if suguru’s whole life story had suddenly become his priority.
“pretty much,” suguru replied, a slight smirk in his tone. “it’s been keeping me busy, and i have a…close partner who keeps me grounded. speaking of which,” he turned his gaze to you with an amused smile, “she was the one who started persephone. i’m really just there to support her vision.”
“sounds convenient,” toji muttered, but suguru just chuckled.
you nudged him with your elbow, giving him a warning look. “toji, come on,” you whispered, as if he was the one being out of line here.
he let out a low sigh, then pulled back slightly, looking at you as if he’d just remembered himself. “what? ’m just makin’ sure you’re not getting dragged into any fancy wine scams or whatever.”
you rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide a smile. “geto’s company is doing fine, toji. it’s called persephone.”
toji folded his arms and gave a dismissive shrug. “well, just saying. i know people.”
the whole room seemed to go a bit quieter, and toji cleared his throat, looking away from suguru's patient amusement.
“nice meeting you, toji,” suguru added, with a slight tilt of his head. “take care of our new ‘top find’ there, alright?”
toji clenched his jaw a little at the words, then nodded, pretending he wasn’t glaring at the camera. “yeah, yeah. we’re all set here.”
as the call ended, you turned to him, eyebrows raised, clearly wanting an explanation. “what was that about?”
toji scratched the back of his neck, trying to look casual. “just, y’know…making sure you weren’t getting yourself in with shady people.”
“oh? like, you?”
he let out a bark of laughter, realizing he’d backed himself into a corner. “hey, i’m not shady — i’m just thorough.”
you raised an eyebrow. “thorough? right, that’s the word you’re going with?”
“yeah. and what — you mad at me for caring?”
at that, you went quiet, a faint blush touching your cheeks.
and toji? well, he could only think of those two kisses again, and how stupidly close he’d just gotten to the camera just to… what? size up suguru?
he mentally groaned. what was wrong with him?
tag list is open, comment if you'd like to be on it <3 produced by creamflix on tumblr. all rights reserved. do not copy, steal, modify, repost — support your writers by liking and reblogging. ♡ banners by cafekitsune
#jjk smut#jujutsu kaisen smut#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen x fem!reader#jjk x female reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk x fem!reader#jujutsu kaisen x female reader#jjk x y/n#jujutsu kaisen x you#fushiguro toji x you#fushiguro toji x reader#toji x y/n#toji x you#toji x reader#toji x self insert#fushiguro smut#toji fushiguro x you#toji fushiguro x reader#fushiguro x you#fushiguro x y/n#fushiguro x reader#toji zenin x reader#toji zenin x you
598 notes
·
View notes