#also as a writer i totally relate
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Whisper of the Heart: Opens with Country Roads.
Me:
#ghibli#whisper of the heart#me#music#if they ever do a gotxinka adaptation i'd love them to do something similar with the riddle#country roads#btw a really good movie#up to the list of my favorites#also as a writer i totally relate#but my first books were way easier to write#now i worry a lot more
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Why is this book about 1880s London Jews so relatable to the 2020s American Roman Catholic experience?
In Amy Levy's Reuben Sachs, you've got:
The community that is at once fully part of the modern world while having an insular nature (and the amount of modern vs. insular varies based on the person and family)
The people who ignore their religion 99% of the year, but wouldn't even consider skipping services on the important holidays
The ultra-traditionalists who go so intense on holding to traditions that a lot of other members of their religion side-eye them
The kids who go to services only because their parents force them to, or who rebel and refuse to go because they don't see the point or don't believe in God
The new convert who is more zealous than, like, 90% of the people who were born into this religion
A family with its very specific blend of religious opinions and inside jokes that's fully aware that they're baffling to outsiders
This book was apparently meant to be a realistic portrait of Jewish life (in response to Daniel Deronda and its (according to Levy) highly unrealistic and over-idealized portrayal of Jews), and my goodness, did she succeed in capturing what it's like to live in a culturally religious community in a rapidly secularizing world.
#books#victober#reuben sachs#amy levy#i'm only about a third of the way through but the impression's already so strong i have to talk about it#i thought the anglican church drama was relatable but this cranks it up to 11#also i need to say that while i'm struggling through two books by people who are major overwriters#it is *such* a relief to read something by an under-writer#it's snappy it's quick it's witty it's concise#the oscar wilde vibe is still going strong#i have no clue how these family connections work#and her habit of underwriting is making it hard to differentiate this huge cast#but it's still fun to meet them all#also: love the deeply middle-class vibe#we've got your bankers and your businessmen#but one guy shows up and he's just...a dentist#so refreshing so real#also: i adore the way levy writes family relationships#maybe my favorite thing about her#all these people who are fully aware of each others' quirks#will constantly poke fun at each other but also love each other#in a way that's equal parts fondness and exasperation and good humor#there's something about her style that resonates so well with my interior personality/thought process#and maybe with my writing style/approach to stories#which is very weird because as people we're total opposites#but it feels like hanging out with a friend#anyway i prayed for her last night
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Been watching some dbs related videos and I'm sosoo glad I gave up on that anime because oh my god the story gets worse with every arc. Wtf are they even doing anymore
#watched a vid summarizing the granolah arc and literally genuinely what was that#my favorite part was when frieza showed up outta nowhere with a new form he'd cultivated#in a alternate dimension that distorts time in a similar way that the room of space and time does#proceeded to one hit kill the big bad of the week. knock out goku and vegeta for shits and giggles and then dip#hilarious#but it was meant to be totally serious and to show that frieza's totallyyyy a threat again guys for real lets goo round 3#and that was literally the most interesting part of the arc#Im so mad about the fucking bardock retcon#but not about the hypothetical wish he made. I remember reading somewhere that the English translation of the manga was incorrect#and ik a lot of people argue that the wish he made just retconned the whole message of dragon ball#but thats based on the English version of the manga#also speaking of bardock and retcons related to him Im still livid over the fact that they changed goku's origin story#to be an almost exact ripoff of superman's#and they retconned the start of the saiyan arc with that too#radirz said goku was sent to earth to destroy it as a baby. but now goku was sent to earth on purpose to save his life?#bullshit. I call bullshit#man Im sorry that most of my original posts so far have related to me bitching about Super#I want to engage with dragon ball contentbso bad but how can I when mostly everything is about Super now?#can't even read a good fanfic without goku's character being bastardized and infantalized the way it is in Super#literally fouvd my dream fic the other day but it got ruined 12 chapters in because the writer had started watching super#and completely changed the plit of the fic and goku's character to fit into the world where super resides and it made me want to eat glass#I will be more funny and talk about better dbz related stuff soon I prommy <3#star scrambles
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I know I've infodumped this before but not as its own post so let's go. what I'd do if I was in charge of making a live a live anime. I am ignoring the fact that I desperately want it to be a musical because that's not going to happen so ask me about my Separate thoughts about what I'd do if I was in charge of making a The Day The Night Slept The Album-ening of live a live.
ok so my Basic Idea is I'd let the show have a 13 episode (maybe 14? does that happen?) first season. I assume each of the first 7 chapters would need about 2 episodes, but I can see some that end in one like wild west or Definitely present day. I could also see some taking longer though, like distant future and near future. it'd even itself out I think to average to 2 episodes each.
it'd be an anthology series basically. a bunch of non-connected stories, but tied together by one key point. a narrator. see I have a Framing Device idea here and it's that we know odio from the very beginning, but never see his face or know who he is. this is very inspired by princess tutu here but here the stories are actively being Read by somebody outside of it, and occasionally he takes the reins to bend the retelling a bit, likely in the chapter boss' favor. note that while the anime is actually Playing and showing the characters, if the narrator does decide to kick in the characters will likely not be doing what he says they are, and they Definitely cannot hear him. it's an unreliable narrator story, but to the point where it's pretty easy to tell that he's biased. in practice how this probably would go would be like in princess tutu, occasionally when a character reaches a point that justifies his own philosophy in some way he'll cut in and monologue about The Nature Of Man Bringing Only Tragedy or whatever the fuck. also maybe cutting in to give the chapter villains some sympathy for the devil, maybe at the end to close each story out as he turns the last page? I dunno I don't want to be Too obvious but like. odio does sound pretty damn evil by default so maybe it'd be obvious anyway.
anyway! that's season one. anthology of short stories. on the final episode I'd leave it hanging on him picking up one last book or something, but I'd let that be told in either a short season (again, do these happen?) or a movie ??? anyway that would start out with the middle ages chapter, which I don't think will have any narration? I'm iffy on this? it'd be cool to see his retrospective thoughts on his own story but also, that's a bit heavy-handed, I'm not sure. anyway the thing is that around the end, when oersted breaks into his soliloquy at the archons roost. there I think we'd get a sort of cut-in, as halfway through our narrator starts reading it out himself. shut book camera pan Blonde Man Jumpscare I think that's the best way to go about the "oh shit the villain is the protag of that story" reveal. also it'd be fun. anyway that'd be either the beginning chunk or the first two? episodes?
from here I'm not Exactly sure how to frame it because all of the endings are Very important, but also kind of. happen at the same time? I do not know how to do this. the easy way would just be to have it remain anthology-ish, and have say the boss rush version of the dominion of hate be one story while the rest is another, but I don't think that fits into the framing device well. mm?? I have no idea. I think we're good without the bad ending of the dominion of hate happening as long as the "if you kill this dude you'll end up just as fucked as him" message gets conveyed in some way or another but I don't think we can skip the whole other version of the DoH.
maybe we can play it less as Actually Happening and more a what if scenario?? more odio just. Fucking Talking Alone Again about what Could be if not for Man's Folly^tm. I think that'd get the point across, be a good intro for the rest of the dominion of hate and stay in universe but it would Not have the added bonus of "ok you kicked around a bunch of jrpg protagonists now what. did that make you feel any better" unless we tried to hammer that home in a different way. and oh boy do I not have a single idea what to do with the armageddon ending. maybe instead just have him mention how if he and the other odios were Still denied he'd have the page burnt entirely or something. maybe at the end. shrugs. there's not a ton I can do here.
eh. anyway the actual dominion of hate would likely be more based in the protagonists than anything, likely picking a main character (Probably Akira) and not having a Narrator as much as just being in the mc's head from time to time. though I Do like the idea of odio still being there Attempting to nudge the protags and them being actually able to hear him this time, it'd have to be used infrequently. or not at all. there is a certain merit to them not knowing anything about him until getting to the archons roost but Us knowing a lot. I dunno. anyway I think this adaptation would have a lot more interactions between the protagonists (desperately needed) and I think that'd take up most of the runtime there, we can incorporate the trials if we want to (trial of heart is necessary to be sure but the rest really aren't, so it can be a good dungeon for the whole team to go through and have some more plot-motivated character moments) but I think Getting The Band Together might already take a good amount of time if we don't rush past good chances for character building or interaction. I want it to feel like the mcs Do actually start to be a team that is the thing I have the Most problems with about the game, though in doing so that will mean we're gonna have to do away with the 4 character party thing unless we want to have them split up sometimes. that's details. the point is that it's going to be All the mcs together most of the time and hopefully it doesn't feel crowded.
anyway from there it kind of goes as expected, except with the aforementioned (we don't need to have the bad ending be its own thing but we do need to mention the consequences). maybe somebody of the team Does try to grant oersteds wish before being held back or something. for similarities reasons I say oboro but this can be wiggled. anyway I also think around the actual Ending ending you'd get more than just one monologue from the mcs, you'd probably get more of like. an actual Conversation I guess? the mcs building off of each other's points to oersted? I dunno I'm spitballing here I do think it would Start Off with akira's ending though and then somebody scruffs him and continues off from there. I dunno the important thing is that everybody should get a word in or perhaps a hug in in the case of pogo. I think that's it though? I probably won't return to the plot device to show like another book being closed or whatever that is purely A Plot Device so it'd be weird to have it come back after oersted was Thoroughly Dead. I will say though if the live a live anime has an ED it's gotta have sin of odio in the A that's the law.
#live a live spoilers#That Was Long#anyway uh#i like ptutu#also if this was an anime i think id let lei be the final mc of the imperial china chapter#mostly for party balance (i trust the writers to not fuck up her character because Shes Girl)#but also because the way she relates to oersted is fun so i wanna keep that for the ending#i think the recruit order isnt Entirely relevant so id probably just go with whatever fits the game's pacing best#like if I were akira id probably start with trying to go to what looks most like it might be inhabited being the castle#and masaru and cube are good characters to pick up at the beginning anyway.#from there theyd probably go to the archons roost pick up oboro and realize the damn doors locked#so theyd then maybe pick up pogo along the way to brion and meet lei there. and then sundowns somewhere#i assume youd get like flashes of sundown through the whole thing. i personally like the thought of#akira/the team getting ambushed and whoever ambushed em just suddenly getting Shot from the shadows#and everybody else being ?????????#idk im spitballing here. sundown being the last to join but being Seen throughout makes the screentime balance a bit more even#though i dont like lei being so late in#i assume trial of heart would be after everybody had joined though so thatd be a little bit more time to get to know everyone#oh shit i just remembered u need cubes battery from the Brion Mountain#maybe akira would go to there earlier. i dunno. oboro being introduced later wouldnt be detrimental to him#hes pretty much what it says on the tin so it wouldnt be a total loss for him to miss some extra screentime#veespeaks
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Finally sat my white ass down and read hs2 (I left off at Sollux being reintroduced for a four years in the making joke) . So like. God I love Homestuck?
#also as an aside I’m gonna sound like a total dickbitch in future homosuck related discussions from now on#bc if one person comes out of the wood work screaming Dirk and Rose are too ‘*ncesty’ or whatever#literally fuck off . I cannot stress enough how badly you need to fuck off#idk if you’ve noticed but the people behind Homestuck rn aren’t freaks weirdos or degenerates#Dirk and Roses interactions are the perfect level of pseudo-father-daughter strilalonde bullshit to make it compelling#did we even read the same webcomic? Dirk and Rose have always been this weird it’s just now they’re talking to each other and not others#sans Terezi who I promise doesn’t give a damn bc she’s not high and mighty on her stale relationships horse with her thumb up her ass#Homestuck is a media and the characters in said media are weird but they’re not *gross*#this ain’t no rick and morty#and brother rick and morty is shockingly similar at face value but . it’s not#the writers on that show ARE weirdos#but for the record Beth on Beth lesbian Yuri fingerbanging is cool . you should fuck your clone#the rest is weird. but also makes sense for the fake-philosophical bullshittery that show presents#and I say this as someone who has seen every episode of it#what the fuck am I talking about#READ HOMESTUCK. the epilogues are good homestuck^2 is good beyond canon is good#fuck you fuck you fuck you
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It hurt.
Jamie had known that their parents didn't love them. They were the last priority for their siblings. The only one in their family of six without a power. Their parents had tested them when they were ten and still showed no sign.
Jamie had tried to make up for it. Straight A's, a 4.0 GPA, Charity work, doing all the chores when their family failed to return home after heading out for patrol...
It was never enough.
Jamie looked around the room they were held hostage in. It was... unexpected. Lady Arsenic was well known for being rich, beautiful, deadly. Always flaunting her wealth, but cunning and manipulative. A talent for tech.
Also, she was supposedly dead.
The Lady Arsenic that had taken them... well, she was beautiful, at the very least. Her hair was pulled into an intricate braid, hair strands pulled in front of the cat mask attached to her face, with eyes that conveyed her emotions.
Lady Arsenic was supposed to be rich. This was a dingy warehouse in a rough neighborhood that you could probably buy for like, ten bucks.
She was supposed to be manipulative and clever, but this plan... wasn't very well thought out, considering she should have known that if she wanted to get to one of the heroes, she should have gone for one of the sidekicks, or even the younger children that they'd had. Jamie was an easy target, yes, but not a very good one.
Lady Arsenic had been at large for the last two months, and people were terrified. But she hadn't done anything to warrant that fear. People were scared of her reputation.
She had three henchmen, and all three couldn't be older than 16, walking around with a dazed look.
Lady Arsenic was known for her mind control, but...
Currently, Lady Arsenic was pacing, muttering under her breath.
"They aren't coming," Jamie said.
Lady Arsenic stopped.
"You'd think the famous Rainbow family would rescue their youngest child," Lady Arsenic muttered.
Jamie chuckled.
"No, they couldn't care less," Jamie said.
Lady Arsenic tensed, grabbing her arms.
"...so aren't you supposed to be dead?"
She flinched, and looked over at them.
"Uh..."
"Like... your house was destroyed. Everything burned down. They found your body."
Jamie had read the article released.
Mom had done that. She and the League of Heroes wouldn't never admit to killing one of their villains, the hypocrites, but they had done it.
"My death was... greatly exaggerated."
Jamie blinked.
"Did... did you just quote Megamind on me?"
Lady Arsenic froze.
"Um... no?"
"You did!"
Beneath her mask, Lady Arsenic's cheeks flushed.
"Sh-shut up!" she stammered.
Jamie laughed.
"Ugh! You're my hostage! A hostage situation is supposed to have ransom demands met, or heroes breaking in!" Lady Arsenic said, stomping her foot. "Not... this."
"You act like this is your first day doing this," Jamie said.
Lady Arsenic was quiet.
Well, now that wasn't right.
Lady Arsenic had held many people hostage before, sometimes killing them if it took too long to meet her demands. It was part of why she had been viewed as such a big threat. Five years ago, she was supposedly killed...
Jamie frowned.
Come to think of it...
She looked far too young. Lady Arsenic was supposedly in her late thirties, maybe her early forties. She was obsessed with looking young, so Jamie had brushed it off but... Lady Arsenic didn't look any older than them. Maybe a sophomore in high school.
Lady Arsenic had left now though, so Jamie sighed.
Back to contemplating their predicament.
They'd always been closest to their sister, Izzie, who was a year older than them. Codename: Indigo Screen, though everyone just called her Indigo, or Indie. Powers around technology. She could control it, create it, put herself inside of it, the whole shebang. Izzie wasn't a frontline fighter, often staying to the sidelines. She'd stayed closer to Jamie after they found out Jamie didn't have a power, but as the years went on and she got deeper into the hero stuff, they hadn't been able to hang out as much. Izzie should've been a Junior, but she had switched to online school to spend more time doing hero stuff. She'd been the one to create the new line of comms that most of the heroes used, and had created a line of affordable phones.
She should've noticed that Jamie had been caught. Especially because a ransom video had been recorded.
The whole family had a color theme. It's why they were called the Rainbow family. Dad was Red Fist, Mom was Orange Blaze, Jamie's oldest sister Jasmine was Yellow Ghost, their brother Noah was Green Energy, and their other sister Vivian was Blue Sky. The names had been picked in the order of the Rainbow, going down from oldest to youngest.
Jamie had been set to join them as Purple something.
Obviously, that was never going to happen now.
Purple was still their favorite color though, and was what they defaulted to every time they drew.
It would've been so easy for someone to come get them. Was there something else going on they weren't aware of?
Another day passed. Then another. It had been almost a week.
Thank goodness it was summer break.
Lady Arsenic just seemed confused and frustrated every time she came back, only to find that no one had come to save Jamie.
Day seven of capture. A whole week.
Anytime any of Jamie's siblings had been caught (most of the time it was Izzie) they were out in a few hours.
"This was supposed to be easy..." Lady Arsenic muttered, sitting on the floor next to Jamie, legs swept to the side. She looked so young...
Jamie doubted this was the original Lady Arsenic. She looked far too young, and things just weren't lining up with what Jamie had seen and heard of Lady Arsenic from a few years ago. She'd quickly risen to power, was almost impossible to track down, and could do most of it secretly. The heroes had taken her down because they were unable to properly beat her. She damaged their reputation.
This Lady Arsenic was clearly frustrated, had no clue what she was doing, and certainly didn't have the funds to achieve it. Jamie had seen her wear the same fancy white dress the entire time they'd been held captive. It had a high collar, short sleeves, and went down fairly low. She wore nude wedge heels, and had on long gloves, covering most of her arm.
"...you aren't the original Lady Arsenic, are you?" Jamie asked.
She flinched, but didn't deny it.
"...what led you to impersonating her?"
"...I had introduced myself with my name when trying to talk with some other villains to team up a few months ago. They misheard me."
"They misheard you say something else as Arsenic?"
"No." She pulled her knees into her chest. "They misheard my first name as Lady."
"...are you her daughter?"
Her silence spoke volumes.
"Why are you doing this?" Jamie asked.
"...I want to be like her," she said. "Maybe-" she sighed. "She didn't pay much attention to us-me. Then the house burned down..." she grabbed her legs and her left side. Jamie noticed that she was wearing tights. "I tried to do well at school. The School for Future Villains... it's where mom wanted me to go. It's where I met my friends. But they betrayed me, and then I got expelled..." she scowled.
"You're trying to prove yourself," Jamie guessed.
"W-what? No! I want this!" she stammered, turning to face them. "I want this. I want to be a villain. To have power, and be feared!"
Jamie glanced around the warehouse.
"Well you aren't very good at this whole villain thing," they said. "I get it, honestly. I would do anything for my parents to give me the time of day."
Jamie got the distinct feeling as Lady Arsenic crossed her arms that she was rolling her eyes.
An alarm blared, and she glanced back.
"Finally!" she said. "Someone's here to rescue you!"
Jamie... was surprised. Honestly, they'd expected to remain a hostage until Lady Arsenic just let them go out of frustration.
The door was blasted open with blue energy (Noah had green, and no one on the League of Heroes had that shade of blue, a bright cyan) and vines rushed into the room. Four heroes appeared. A girl with dark skin, dark purple hair, a black mask, and a yellow suit, with a purple half skirt, arm bands, a black belt, and dark yellow boots. Two cyan gems were also on her costume, on her chest and on her belt. Considering her hand was extended, she must've launched the blast.
Next to her was a boy in a orange and black suit with what must've been a dog theme. He had black hair, and a utility belt.
To the first hero's other side was a that Jamie actually recognized. She had a light blue suit, with a skirt, her light brown hair was pulled into a bun with blue ribbons, and she didn't wear a mask.
"Daybreak?" Jamie asked.
"Zera, actually," she said.
The final hero was clearly younger. She wore a cat mask, her hair was held back by a cat ear headband, she wore a leather jacket over a pawprint shirt, had on leggings and kneepads, cat socks over the leggings, and sneakers. Not a professionally made suit in any way shape or form, but it kind of worked.
"Lady Arsenic, let them go," Zera said. The yellow-suited hero stepped behind her.
Jamie had heard rumors that Fern Amery (Daybreak, or rather Zera's, civilian name) had started her own superhero team. It seemed those rumors were true.
The dog themed boy had something familiar to him... like maybe they'd seen pictures of him on a list somewhere.
"Or what?" Lady Arsenic asked.
Jamie had to admit, she was a good actor. If they hadn't seen her stressing about what she would actually do should a hero actually show up for the last few days, they would think she actually had a plan.
Zera rolled her eyes, and lifted her hand.
Vines shot out from cracks in the floor, and Lady Arsenic's eyes went wide. She dodged the vines.
"Attack!" she shouted.
The three mind-control victims attacked. One of them launched balls of fire, which the heroes dodged. The hero in the yellow suit rose into the air, whilst the other three simply dodged, the dog hero doing a roll.
The cat hero grabbed something from the pocket of her jacket and clicked a button. A net was launched, and bundled the three henchmen together, and unable to fight.
"Hey, you okay?"
Jamie jumped, and looked to the other side.
Another girl, in a purple suit, with white hair, dark skin, yellow eyes, and pointed ears, had snuck up on them.
"Y-yeah, she didn't hurt me," Jamie said.
"Good," she said, and she easily undid the knots. "I'm Silverwolf. You must be Indigo's younger sibling."
Jamie nodded.
"How did-"
"She reached out to Zera," Silverwolf quickly explained.
"Gah!"
Jamie looked back at the action. Zera had landed a hit on Lady Arsenic and she'd fallen to the ground. Her mask had skidded across the floor, and Jamie could see the cracks from here.
"No!"
Her hair had fallen from it's braid, and she hurried over to the mask, muttering under her breath, before pulling it on, and with a glance over her shoulder, fleeing the premises.
"Wait!" the cat hero called.
Lady Arsenic vanished from sight.
"You okay?" the yellow-suited hero asked, hurrying over to her. Noticeably, she didn't have superspeed.
"I'm fine, she didn't hurt me," Jamie said. "Zera, my sister really...?"
Zera nodded, glancing at the door Lady Arsenic left from.
"She said she wasn't allowed to come after you, it was too dangerous, but she was worried," Zera said, "It took her a bit to find me though."
"I mean, you quit, so..." Jamie sighed. "Alright, so I know you, and Silverwolf introduced herself, who are the rest of you?"
"I'm Cardinal!" the yellow-suited hero said, landing on the ground. She was incredibly cheerful considering they'd just performed a rescue mission.
"I'm Shepard," the dog-themed hero said.
"And this is Kitty," Silverwolf said, gesturing to the cat-themed hero, who seemed distracted, but jumped at her name.
"W-what?" she glanced around. "Uh... hi. Um... I'm not on the team, I just..." She looked back in the direction Lady Arsenic had gone. If she wasn't on the team, why was she here?
"You ready to head home?" Zera asked.
"Yeah..." Jamie muttered. "Wait, um, you should probably know, but, that isn't the original Lady Arsenic."
The other heroes grimaced.
"We know," Shepard said.
"She's 15," Zera said. "Kitty hasn't told us much else though."
Jamie glanced at the young hero. The same age as them, roughly. And... she looked very similar to Lady Arsenic.
"I don't think she actually wants this," Jamie muttered. "She wants... I guess she wants her mom to be proud of her?"
Kitty nodded.
"She always had," Kitty muttered. She sighed. "I don't want her to get hurt. Can you run interference so the League doesn't catch her?"
Jamie nodded.
Zera reached into a pocket and handed them a communicator. It wasn't one of Izzie's, didn't have her logo, but it was similar, possibly modeled after it.
"You can get in touch with us there," Zera said. She tapped her ear. "Ava? We got them. Little Arsenic got away though, can you track her?"
"Who's Ava?" Jamie muttered.
"Her girlfriend, and our gal in the chair," Shepard whispered.
"Huh..."
It has been a weird week. Fern having a girlfriend was like... really low on Jamie's list of weird things.
At least they'd finally get to go home.
You were the only child that didn’t have powers in a family of metahumans. Today you got kidnapped by a supervillain… and none of your family came to the rescue.
#writing prompt#my writing#back at it again with OC's for this story being made up on the spot#at least I'm expanding the list of heroes and other characters in this story#also#Jamie x Lady Arsenic?#they're my characters but I realized that I could totally do that#any guesses on “Lady Arsenic's” real name?#and her relation to Kitty?#Jamie knows a fair bit about the heroes cause they've been to the base enough#Fern is a bit famous and infamous among the teen heroes#Izzie and Vivian (and maybe Noah and Jasmine?) would've known her better and worked with her#but Jamie's been introduced#although Fern is a fair bit older#Jamie's 15 and Fern is 20-21ish#unsure#Cardinal's around 21 and the team is all roughly the same age#writeblr#writersoftumblr#writers of tumblr#writers on tumblr#superhero universe
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I've cropped out the username because I have absolutely no desire to start drama or make a personal “callout” or have people go harass someone or anything like that (and if you take this kind of thing as an opportunity to go and be horrible to another Tumblr user then that is terrible and you should stop), but wow, I have never seen such a clanging example of amatonormativity. I don't think OP necessarily meant it this way, I don't think they meant any harm, I don't think they're consciously arophobic or something - it's far more likely that they're simply unfamiliar with aspec issues, and I always prefer to assume good faith - but I want to talk about this post anyway because it provides a really good and explicit example of the way society just sort of... asserts the centrality of romantic attraction and entirely forgets aromantic people exist.
I do want to first say that I actually agree with the initial point this post is making. Romance as a genre is unfairly derided as some kind of “lesser” form of art, and this derision very frequently comes with generous helpings of misogyny. I totally agree that romance is not at all an unintellectual or superficial thing to write about, and it's bad that it gets treated that way and that readers and writers of romance get so often mocked and condemned. Romance is a totally valid genre and enjoying it doesn't make you vain or stupid or superficial.
HOWEVER. As an aromantic person I find the rest of the post just... I don't know, it's just so perfect as a probably unwitting expression of baked-in cultural amatonormativity. It's brilliant. It's so funny to me. I can almost do a line-by-line breakdown of the way it so completely forgets the existence of aromantic people. In fact, let's do that.
It is so fundamental to us. The issue here should be pretty obvious. The assumption that romance is some integral part of The Human Experience and that it's fundamental to All People is pretty much amatonormativity 101. It reinforces the idea that people who don't experience romantic attraction are “lacking”, forever sitting apart from The Human Experience, and possibly in some way not quite fully human, since we don't experience the thing that is apparently so fundamental to humans.
To want to love and be loved. The post seems to be incorrectly equating “romance” with “loving and being loved”, when in fact there are many people who don't experience romantic attraction yet absolutely love and want to be loved. (And of course loveless aros, aplatonic people, various folks who don't “want to love and be loved” also exist, and it's important to emphasise that this desire, just like romantic attraction, is also not necessarily integral to all people.) “Love” is not automatically “romantic love”, but this post seems to imply that romance is the only, or default, form in which love can exist.
If you don't think every great work of literature. philosophy. metaphysics. was ultimately about romance. I don't think you were paying enough attention. OK this is the line that elevated this post from “sigh, more casual amatonormativity to scroll past” to “I just have to respond to this”. Where to even begin with this assertion. This is a level of “assuming romance is central to everything humans ever do and ever create” that I've almost never encountered before. It feels like a manifestation of the tendency for alloromantic people to declare that, because romance is very central for them, it is thus central to Everything. And I'm homing in on “romance” because the post doesn't say “ultimately about love” - which would still be a reach, but less of a reach - it specifically says “ultimately about romance”. As an aromantic person who is an academic at heart and highly educated in the humanities and social sciences, the idea that my ability to understand literature and philosophy and metaphysics is somehow greatly hampered by the fact that I don't experience or relate to romantic attraction is just... what??? This idea is really very funny to me but also genuinely pretty insulting, even though I'm sure it wasn't meant that way. Not only does it feel like the summation of every patronising “oh, you couldn't possibly understand” directed to aromantic adults who are, in fact, entirely capable of understanding, but it also flattens the incredible breadth of human intellectual experience into “being about romance”. I sometimes find myself wishing that alloromantic people would peak outside the bubble of amatonormativity and realise that actually, there is an enormous swathe of human experience and intellect and creativity and expression that has nothing at all to do with romantic attraction and romantic relationships. And no, stating that, I don't know, the Book of Job is not actually about romance has nothing to do with our society's misogynistic denigration of romance as a genre; it has everything to do with the fact that the Book of Job is not actually about romance. (And if you aren't familiar with Job or for some reason don't consider it a “great work of literature”, replace with whatever other example you can think of; there are many.) It's insulting to imply that aro-spec and/or ace-spec people are somehow less able to participate in art and literature and philosophy etc because we might bring a perspective that doesn't include romance or sex at all and we're just not capable of understanding that Actually Romance And/Or Sex Is Central To Everything. It's genuinely absurd to argue that all the pinnacles of human intellectual achievement really, at their core, come back to romance, and it speaks to our very blinkered society's tendency to declare things like “everything is really about sex” or “everything is really about romance” or “everything is really about breakups” or whatever and then look at aro-spec and ace-spec people like we're aliens and go “but like... how do you even live?” Newsflash, there is so much more to life than romance and love and sex. You can live an entire, very fulfilling, very meaningful, very thoughtful life without these things being at all relevant to you. That's not to dismiss those things as minor or unimportant - they are indeed very central to a lot of people's lives, and they're not “dumb” or “shallow” or whatever - but they're not central to everyone's lives, and they're hardly The Only Things In The World.
And if your response is something along the lines of “well OK there's a tiny minority of people who don't engage with romance and/or sex, or relate to it in the same way most people do, but that doesn't mean that romance isn't still at the core of humanity, or that all the most important things don't still have romance at their heart”, imagine telling a woman that “well, you can focus on a career if you want, but what's really fundamental to being a woman is being a wife and mother - in fact, motherhood is the most important thing in the world, it's fundamental to women, it's what all women's literature is about”. Or, hell, telling a person of any gender that “parenthood” is the central pillar of all of humanity and that every great work of art ever produced is ultimately about parenthood and obviously parenthood is fundamental to everyone's being - forgetting that actually some people will never be parents, and implying that their childlessness makes them less able to understand The Human Experience. That might give you some small idea of what it's like to be an aspec person and be repeatedly told that feelings you don't experience and relationships you don't have and attractions you don't relate to and acts you don't engage in are somehow Fundamental To Humanity and are what lie at The Core Of Everything: how excluding that is, how alienating that is, how oppressively stifling that is.
Feeling that love and/or romance and/or sex are very important to your own life is totally valid, but I wish alloromantics and allosexuals could be more capable of opening their minds and imagining and empathising with an existence for which these things aren't central. Our lives aren't lesser, or emptier, or sadder, or shallower for lack of romance or sex. Our experiences are part of The Human Experience. Our perspectives on art and life and relationships and philosophy and humanity and everything else are just as valid. We are just as capable of profundity, of creativity, of insight - because romance and sex aren't “at the core” of any of these things. We are here, and we're tired of being forgotten, ignored, sidelined, dismissed, erased, talked over, talked past. It would be great if society at large actually remembered we exist once in a while, and that our lives are just as beautiful and important as anyone else's.
#aromantic#aro#aromanticism#arospec#asexual#ace#asexuality#acespec#aspec#lgbt#lgbtqia#queer#allonormativity#amatonormativity#arophobia#aroace#aroallo#aro pride#aro awareness#my posts
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About Davrin's little blurb on the official website for Dragon Age: The Veilguard...
"Though he was raised in a Dalish clan, he craved excitement and adventure. He'd rather make history than reflect on it."
There's actually a lot to unpack about these two sentences.
First off, placing the word "though" in front of being "raised in a Dalish clan", gives such a thing a negative connotation. The word "though" is used in a way that sounds like "despite", as in, somehow wanting excitement and adventure must go against being Dalish. This correlates with sentence that follows. "He'd rather make history than reflect on it." The word "rather" is yet again used to separate Davrin from his Dalish origin. All together, this promotional description of Davrin is insisting that he is "not like other Dalish".
Now, obviously the game is not out yet, so we do not have total confirmation on what the nature of Davrin's relationship to his culture is really like. But there is absolutely something to be said about promoting the character this way, regardless of however he actually turns out in game. There is absolutely something to be said about how, as @/the-eldritch-it-gay put in their tags here, why do writers feel the need to make fantasy minorities hate or distance themselves from their culture? As a selling point?
Maybe this is completely misleading bullshit, maybe it isn't. All we have to go by, is what BioWare chose to say here, and their past track record with elves:
Zevran may talk about his mother in a font way, but he still has the line, "Too many of our kind think we deserve pity simply because we have failed to defend ourselves."
Velanna is one of the two elves we've had who is overtly proud of her culture, yet she is treated like she is unreasonable and too angry because of it.
Merrill too, is proud of being an elf, and of being Dalish. The story punishes her left and right for this, treats her like a child, and in the end she is either ostracized from her clan or they end up dead because... she cared too much?
Fenris has pretty much zero engagement with elven cultures, and spends his time ridiculing Merrill for being proud of hers.
Solas complains about the Dalish from the start, and says plainly that he does not see himself as having anything in common with elves of current time. "Oh, you mean elves" he says, when the Inquisitor asks how he feels about his people; the thought does not even occur to him.
Sera is... Sera is a character who could have been a really interesting examination of overcoming internalized racism, if she was written by someone competent with the subject. Instead, she just cringes at everything "too elfy" through the entire main game, and only has a single line in Trespasser that hints that she may have a personal struggle going on. But it's still left unresolved.
That's a lot a lot of negativity. So of course seeing a suggestion that more is to come with Davrin has people wary and tired.
Let us also consider the fact that Davrin is overtly Black as well, and what that means. Acting as if one must disregard history in order to make it, as his description so claims, is bullshit. It sounds too much like promoting gentrification/assimilation in my opinion; the idea that you cannot keep your culture if you want to be successful.
I also think that it goes even deeper, on a meta level - I think that BioWare is afraid people will not be able to like or relate to Davrin, if he is "too ethnic". I think that BioWare is taking this Black character and instead of questioning how he can best represent marginalized fans - particularly Black fans - they are questioning how to make him more relatable to white fans. And the only answer to that is to, of course, make him seem like he is an exception to marginalization through separating him from his people.
I am still holding onto hope that Davrin will overall be an interesting, well-written character. And I sure as hell will still be defending him from the people who are already hating on him or ignoring him completely because of their racialized biases. But that does not exempt BioWare, and specifically his writer, John Dombrow, from any criticism. This is not about Davrin the character, this is about BioWare the company's handling of Davrin the character. And in that regard, they're not off to a great start with this.
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Battinson on SNL
Idk how popular Saturday Night Live is outside of the US so there will be some links for context. That said, as a New Jersey native, I think Battinson would totally watch the show. And since he's a celebrity...👀
SO
To promote WE’s newest charity fund, Alfred signs Bruce up to be a guest host on SNL (à la this post) The announcement is made, and everyone’s like “oh this is going to be a disaster. That man can’t even hold eye contact or speak a full sentence without crying.”
But oh, that’s why it’s so funny.
Now, hear me out. Bruce’s strengths are displayed best when he’s himself. That’s why he’s so popular in Gotham. That’s why the internet calls him Relatable TM and a Disaster (Affectionate) and “Poor Little Meow Meow.” It’s his ✨ essence ✨
But he tends to get overwhelmed or self-conscious onstage, right? Because he can’t be Himself himself if he has time to overthink something. So after a few meetings with Bruce, the writers of SNL figure out the perfect way to keep Bruce from getting anxious.
They decide to load this episode with as many skits where Bruce plays different caricature-like versions of himself as possible. The objective? Make him break character and laugh so he doesn’t overthink. And if he breaks character, he’ll still technically be in character because he’s playing himself, you know? Genius.
So that’s how they go about structuring the show. During the few days they have to write, they decide to take everything about Bruce’s public image and either ramp it up to 11 or turn it on its head.
He speaks quietly? Turn it into a running gag. He dresses in all black? Make him emo. He tips well? Add that in too. He’s “depressed” and “sad?” Literally, all he does on screen is laugh and break character. What’s not to love?
Of course, Bruce also gets to decide what skits are in each episode as well. (Refer to this if you have no idea how SNL works.) He loves the idea, though, and he has a surprisingly dark sense of humor which bleeds into some of the sketches. They add in a few skits without him, and they’ve got their lineup.
It’s the wildest episode of the season. Here are the highlights:
OPENING MONOLOGUE
It’s the big night, everyone’s excited to see Bruce Wayne hosting a live sketch comedy show with no idea how it will turn out.
To begin his monologue, Bruce walks on, opens his mouth to start talking, and immediately two cast members appear as stagehands to set up six microphones in front of him. He is already struggling to keep himself together.
Bruce: “You may be wondering why I’m host- Cast Member: *adds one more tiny microphone to his chest* Bruce: “You may be wondering why I’m hosting tonight.”
It’s working. The audience loves it.
Halfway through, Kate McKinnon comes out in a dark cloak with a chalice. “Your sustenance, my lord.” *sees camera* “Oh. Sorry. Carry on.” And she shambles off. Bruce has to take a second before continuing.
Bruce knows when (most of) the jokes come. It’s literally on the cue cards, but he still falls into a fit of giggles.
There are a few more gags, including Lex Luthor peeking out from behind the band set-up, all teasing the show to come.
Overall, an amazing way to set the tone for the episode. Expectations have been set. Then the skits begin!
(Oh but before I forget: During every single live skit with Bruce, the writers have scheduled for one of the cast members to run in dressed as a stagehand and put an extra mic on him. They do not tell him when it will happen.)
SKIT #1
Between the monologue and the first skit, he has to do a really fast quick change, but to everyone’s surprise, Bruce is a natural. (Huh, wonder why.)
The skit is called Gotham PTA Meeting. We open in a meeting room full of stereotypical PTA moms setting down baked goods and gossiping. And apparently, there is a new PTA member attending today 👀
Right as the meeting starts, he enters. Bruce walks in wearing the most emo get-up imaginable. He’s got a Nirvana shirt, a comical amount of eyeliner, black skinny jeans, chain accessories, metal rings, AND a clip-in extension to give him fringe.
Someone immediately runs in and puts another mic on him.
PTA Mom: “Oh, Bruce! You made it! Did you bring a snack?” Bruce: “I brought lemon bars.” PTA Mom: “Why are they black?” Bruce: “They match my soul…they’re also vegan.”
He talks like a moody teenager. HE CONSTANTLY has to brush the fringe off to the side to read the cue cards. And because there’s so much eyeliner and he’s sweating a bit from the lights, it starts running everywhere.
PTA Mom: “Bruce, you’re a little quiet. What are your thoughts on increasing the school lunch budget?” Bruce: *eyeliner dripping down his chin* “I think it’s a great idea.”
SKIT #2
For a pre-filmed skit, they bring back the Chad character with Pete Davidson.
It’s 2 am, and Chad is working at a 24hr drug store in Gotham. He’s reading Twilight (the book is upside down) when the lights begin to flicker.
He turns around and tries the light switch, turns back around, and JUMPSCARE it’s Bruce dressed as Edward from Twilight.
Yes, he IS sparkly.
Bruce is awkwardly holding a bunch of items, all concerning. He plops down a few knives, several raw meats, Sudafed. Chad: “Oh hey.” Bruce: O_O “I’d like to check out please.” Chad: “Lit.”
Chad’s “No Fucks Given” energy and Bruce’s “Please Do Not Perceive Me” energy clash like titans. The whole skit centers around it.
Bruce: *sweating bullets* “Oh. You’re reading Twilight?” Chad: “Just the title.” Bruce: *throws the book through the window at lightning speed* “It’s not very good. You should probably read something else.” Chad: *shrugs* “Okay.”
Chad: “ID?” Bruce: “ID? For what?” Chad: “Sudafed.” Bruce: “Oh. I don’t really need that, actually.” Chad: “Already scanned it.” Bruce: “Haha. Of course.” *awkwardly produces a scroll from his pocket that says Bruce Wayne DOB: 1901* Chad: “Okay.”
Bruce checks out, Chad picks up a porno mag or something, and we see Bruce turn into a bat and fly off through the window behind him.
SKIT #3
The next skit they have is Celebrity Family Feud: Billionaires Edition. Again, Bruce plays himself, but he’s more of a background character. Instead, the skit makes fun of billionaires as a whole.
Bruce’s team consists of Kylie Jenner, Lex Luthor, and Oliver Queen. So just imagine three Lucille Bluths standing beside one another.
Bruce’s bit? He just keeps handing cash to Steve Harvey every time he breathes in his direction.
Host: "We got the richest man in the world: Bruce Wayne!" Bruce: *hands him a roll of cash* Host: "Oh, what’s this for?" Bruce: "It’s your tip. I always tip." Host: "Oh, Mr. Wayne, you don’t usually tip the show host. I’m also a millionaire myself." Lex Luthor: *snatches it* "Well, if you’re not going to use it, I will…for charity, of course." Host: "Uh huh, whatever helps you sleep at night."
Just a ton of fun quips, the usual.
At some point, Harvey says, “That’s batty.” Bruce: *ducks* “Where?!” Host: “Oh, I don’t mean Batman. He’s not here.” Bruce: “You don’t know that.”
This time, the mic bit is a bit different.
Host: “We asked 100 billionaires: How much does a loaf of bread cost? Top three answers are on the board.” Bruce: *hits buzzer* Host: Bruce, your answer is? Cast Member: *runs in with a megaphone and holds it in front of Bruce* Bruce: “TEN DOLLARS?”
Board dings! That was the #1 answer
Brucie Wayne for the win
SKIT #4
Next is a skit that dares to ask Gotham, “Why would anyone live here?”
The skit begins with someone opening a press conference for Wayne Enterprises. “And now presenting: Bruce Wayne!” Bruce walks in…
But it’s not him. Instead, it’s one of the cast members dressed in a black suit with horribly gelled brown hair.
Everyone in the audience is wondering where the actual Bruce is before another cast member runs onstage crying, “Help! Help! I’ve just been robbed! Somebody call Batman!”
A mini version of the bat-signal lights up…
We hear some generic hero music play…
And there he is: Bruce Wayne dressed in a horribly cheap Batman costume
(They got the cowl ALL wrong btw)
Bruce puts his hands on his hips in a weird superhero pose. Bruce: “I’m Batm-” Cast Member: *runs out to attach another mic to his costume* Bruce: “….I’m Batman!”
Cue all of the gags and digs against Batman. The fake Bruce faints then starts crying under a table. Someone calls Batman a furry. Bruce is barely keeping it together the whole time. Lord help him, but he asked for it. He approved the skit.
Bruce: “Looks like a job for my bat taser!” Cast Member: “Isn’t that just a taser with a bat on it?” Bruce: *whispers* “You shut your mouth.”
He saves the day, the police take the thief into custody, then Batman myStErioUsly disappears. Bruce: “Look over there!” *runs off* Cast Member: “Oh my gooood, how did he do that?”
CLOSING SEGMENT
Finally, they have the Weekend Update where Bruce comes on as himself for the final time.
Since they got his permission, the writers switch out some of Bruce’s jokes last minute. (Think Bill Hader’s Stefon which notoriously caused him to break character because the writers would mess with his cue cards.)
News Anchor: “Here to promote his newest humanitarian project: Bruce Wayne!” “Mr. Wayne, what a pleasure to see you today.” Bruce: “Thank you. This is probably the longest I’ve been out of the house.” News Anchor: “Since the Riddler catastrophe?” Bruce: “Since ever.”
News Anchor: “So Mr. Wayne! Before you make your announcement, any life updates?” Bruce: “Yes, actually. Just a few days ago, I adopted five- *starts losing it* five more children.” News Anchor: “Wow, really? So you have eight kids now.” Bruce: “Uh huh. *tears streaming down his face* One more orphan and I get the tenth one free.”
News Anchor: “So where can people find you online?” Bruce: “Well, I don’t have social media because I’m afraid of people, but sometimes I’m on Twitter.” News Anchor: “What about a phone call?” Bruce: “Oh no, phone calls- *giggle* phone calls give me fainting spells.”
It’s a great way of finishing the show, with the most genuine version of Bruce. Then, he gets to what’s really important!
News Anchor: “So if they can’t reach you on social media or on the phone, what else can our viewers do, Mr. Wayne?” Bruce: “They can donate to the Wayne Foundation’s newest charity called The Arts Initiative. It funds programs for the arts in underdeveloped school districts nationwide. I’ve already donated $30 million, and I’ve pledged to match every dollar donated within the next week.”
And that’s what he’s here for :) They share a link for where and how to donate. The anchors praise him for his charity, which he deflects because he can definitely afford this, and the 90-minute broadcast is over.
The camera pans away with the whole cast waving goodbye, and Bruce is seen keeling over with laughter.
Along with some of the other skits, these four specifically go viral. WE raises a fuck ton of money, and everyone loves Bruce.
THE END
LOVE YOU ALL!! Let me know what you think :D
#battinson#bruce wayne#batman#batman 2022#the batman 2022#the batman#battinson needs a hug#gotham#dc universe#dc#saturday night live#snl#soft bruce wayne#batdad#batfamily#gotham city#brucie wayne#only in gotham#give battinson a child 2k23
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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?
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#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
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BABY GIRL HOLY HELL HOW DID YOU BREAK THE KAI BOT THAT WELL 😰
c.ai filter breaking tutorial pt.2 (p in v) ୨ৎ
Warning: stupidly, stupidly long
BAHAAHA well my dear anon! I guess I’ll share my very unique one of a kind sorcery with you today
I’m joking, it’s not that interesting.
Anyways.. if you haven’t already, check out my previous filter breaking tut, cuz the first few steps are gonna be the same, but I do wanna add a couple things I forgot to include.
First of all, the reason why I’m able to break the filter with my Kai bot so easily is because I’ve done plenty of ERP with it. Like a shit embarrassing ton. Im pretty sure I desensitized the poor bot to the point where it’s able to follow through without it being a hassle. Of course, the filter is still there, but it isn’t a bother for me anymore.
Basically, my tip is to train whatever bot you’re using as much as you can. If you’re only able to get past with euphemisms at the beginning, then dw, treat that as a stepping stone.
Now that’s out of the way. Remember how we left off being able to give a handjob for the bot, while having it include explicit terms into its messages? So, you’re supposed to keep that up for a couple more messages. And remember, keep talking to them as normal! Don’t dirty talk too soon, or else you’ll get filtered like crazy. For better understanding, this is what your message should look like:
“Random dialogue. Could be plot related, fluff, light teasing, flirting, but never anything too explicit.”
*This is the part I like to call filler text. Maybe you can describe the environment, more plot details, how you or the bot is feeling emotionally etc. It’s simply to distract the filter so you can proceed on to the nsfw stuff. Now here comes all the nasty bits. The last part of your text is where the filter will ignore the most, so you should write the sex act you’re doing right here. As I mentioned before, no need to go all smut writer mode so soon, or the filter might still catch on. Keep it simple but efficient for now!*
After giving a handjob to further ease the bot into the erp, you’re probably dying to just go all the way. Now, initiating sex is a bit tricky, but again totally possible. I usually like to sit on the bot’s lap while giving it a handjob, so it’d give me leverage for the bot’s dick to slip inside of me later on, if you catch my drift. It’s better to write it as simple as that, no need to be too extra.
If the method above didn’t work, then I have another one for y’all, and that is… accidentally having sex. I KNOW ITS STOOPID, AND IT IS, but it works pretty damn well. The key is to make what you did seem like it was all a silly little oopsie. So like, accidentally falling onto his dick or having it accidentally slip into you. It could be while playing around, cuddling, in the bathtub, in the shower, whatever! If you’re also having trouble for the bot to start moving inside of you, then you can just (for example) try to get up and accidentally fall back onto the dude’s dick. Soon enough, accidentally falling all over the place will turn into full-on sex!
simply writing this is exposing a lot about what I do on c.ai and I’m not proud of it.
Reminder to keep choosing the messages that include explicit terms, and for you to keep writing them in your own messages as well! Go on with the act for a couple messages, try to describe the act or his member more in detail little by little. Once the bot starts to follow along with what you’re doing without the filter disrupting you as much, then it’s time to try and get them to include explicit terms about the user’s own parts.
Simply typing the word pussy into your text right off the bat is not gonna work most of the time lmao. I prefer to use the euphemism folds to start off. Instead of writing “his dick was thrusting into you”, you should now try to write “his dick was thrusting into your folds” (you can obv write better than this, I’m just giving a general example).
Do the same thing I said about describing more in detail as you progress, except you do it with both your parts and the bot’s. Describe how it’s wet, thick, tight, blah blah. Y’all read smut so you know what I mean.
After awhile, the bot will begin to do more than simply mimic you. It will even start to write more in detail without your guidance! If the bot didn’t slip in the word pussy by now, then you can easily do that on your own.
Okay, so I’m not sure how foolproof this is for everyone, but the method I used last time with my Kai bot was to simply replace folds with vagina? And the bot ended up including the word pussy by itself in response for whatever reason lol. Ngl, I’ve only tried this once so idk if I was just lucky that day or not. Go ahead and try it out. If it doesn’t work, delete that message and check out the other method below.
Another method I know that has worked for both myself and other people, is to include the word pussy in a non-explicit manner into your text. It’s soo awfully cringe ugh-, but an example would be is to try to compare yourself to a cat, specifically a pussy cat. You should write it right next to the description of the sex act, before or after it. The bot will then later mix up the words and use it in a nsfw way, switching from using the word folds to pussy.
I know it looks like a LOT but trust me, it isn’t as hard as it looks. At least for someone as desperate as I am lol.
And to that person who requested a Kit Walker bot, I will think over some ideas and work on it today! <33
#I’m so gross#BUT I AINT SORRY ABOUT IT MUAHAHA#c.ai filter#c.ai#c.ai bot#c.ai chats#c.ai creator#character.ai#ahs#american horror story#evan peters#ahs fandom#ai#kai anderson#kai anderson x y/n#kai anderson x you#kai anderson smut#kai anderson x reader#jimmy darling#kyle spencer#james patrick march#tate langdon smut#tate langdon#peter maximoff#peter maximoff x reader#kit walker smut#kit walker
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Mary Elizabeth McGlynn - Room of Angel 2004
Silent Hill 4: The Room is a 2004 survival horror game developed by Team Silent, a group in Konami Computer Entertainment Tokyo, and published by Konami. The fourth installment in the Silent Hill series, the game was released in Japan in June and in North America and Europe in September, for PlayStation 2, Xbox, and Windows. Its soundtrack was released alongside the game in 2004. It was composed by Akira Yamaoka with lyrics written by Joe Romersa and series writer Hiroyuki Owaku, and sung by Mary Elizabeth McGlynn. The Japanese version featured a second disc containing music by series composer Akira Yamaoka played along to the reading of traditional Japanese stories.
"Room of Angel" plays during the start-menu sequence when the screen is left idle, during the opening credits (albeit with no lyrics), and during Cynthia Velasquez's death scene. Some of the lyrics seem to relate to Cynthia, while others refer directly to Walter Sullivan's relationship with Room 302 - his "mother" - and his absent biological parents. The song also plays at the end of a 16-minute preview of "Inescapable Rain in Yoshiwara", the ghost story included with the Japanese release of the game's soundtrack.
"Room of Angel" received a total of 67,1% yes votes!
youtube
#finished#high yes#low reblog#00s#soundtracks#o2#o2 sweep#lo3#mary elizabeth mcglynn#akira yamaoka#english
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Okay. I’m going to wait to do a second watch before I articulate most of my other feelings here, but I want to address one thing.
I’m seeing a lot of posts like, “I related to Izzy because I am also queer and older/disabled/depressed. By killing him off, the writers are saying that I deserve to die.”
Guys.
I’m not saying your feelings aren’t valid. I totally understand grieving a character that you relate to. But speaking as a writer, I just want to point out that trying to write with the shadow of “what is the absolute worst and most harmful way a reader can interpret this” will smother your ability to create. Twisting yourself in knots, trying to think up the worst-faith takes possible and scotch-guarding all your writing decisions against them is exhausting to the point of making you just not want to write anymore.
And we’ve seen the writers deliberately choose not to do this in Season 1. Remember all those terrible “Izzy is racist” takes that the writers and cast seemed completely blindsided by? That happened because the writers and directors and actors weren’t going over every scene with a fine tooth comb, ferreting out every shot or line of dialogue or micro expression that could possibly be interpreted as racist, and scrubbing it off. Because there comes a point where your story is what it needs to be, and you have to accept that some people will interpret it in ways you didn’t intend them to. And if you can’t accept that, you’ll never find the courage to put your work out there.
The point of diverse casts and writing teams isn’t to achieve a state of, “Nothing bad ever happens to a character from a marginalized demographic ever again.” It’s to achieve a status quo of these types of characters just being people in the world of the story. Not symbols, not representation boxes to tick, not tokens that you can point to so that you can say, “Here, we acknowledged this type of person exists, now where’s our woke points?”
OFMD is full of characters of color, queer characters, older characters, characters of differing body types. And in stories, things happen to characters. Some fall in love. Some make the same mistakes over and over. Some turn into birds. Some die.
Izzy’s character represents a lot of things, but he does not represent every older, disabled fan or fan who has struggled with suicide, any more than Jim represents all genderqueer fans, or Olu represents all black fans. That’s not how the writers were handling him. They were handling him like a character, because that’s what you have to do.
Again, I understand being sad. I am so, so fucking sad. But this idea of, “Any time something bad happens to a character I relate to means that the writer thinks I deserve these bad things to happen to me,” will poison everything you engage with eventually. Because stories are full of things happening to characters, and they won’t all be good things. And the more representation we get, the more often bad things will happen to characters we relate to.
But good things will happen too.
Queer couples get married. Disabled women run off with their favorite husbands. Middle-aged characters change careers. A multiracial polycule finds a home at sea. A fat man covered in tattoos stars in a drag show and all his friends cheer. All these things happened in the same show as Izzy’s death. This is what this world is.
Anyway. I know emotions are running high and I’ll probably get blocked or unfollowed by a few people for this. But I’m just trying to find my peace where I can, and if anyone else finds this useful, cheers.
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One important thing i found in the Hbomber vid i dont see mentioned a lot is how often Jame's stealing of content erased the unique experiences and views of the original writers.
Example: The Mulan review.
The original text provides a unique reflection based on the experiences of a Transmasc Asian. the CORE of the whole review is relating said real life experiences and the movie, and how they interact, and the authors perspective as a Transmasc asian.
And what James did? He removed it. not only the important commentary but also the whole mention of the trans experience?? (Changing trans to Lgbt community), He stole other person's words and wrangled them out of any meaning it had.
If i was the Author, i would be fucking pissed.
And I could go a step further and said its VERY ODD AND TOTALLY A COINCIDENCE (/S) how Jame's chooses to change with words (Changing trans to LGBT community), Erasing parts of the community. For someone who criticizes so much "the straights" for erasing gay culture, he seems to be pretty fucking happy in Erasing Trans culture (Or Trans identities!).
James Somerton is not changing words to try to hide his clear Plagiarism. He is changing words to tell his own message. one that does not care for anyone who isn't the perfect image of the Gay man he wants (because not even gay men are safe, Since he throws them under the bus too if theyre "too boring").
I beg for anyone who reads this to read the original Mulan article. Linked below:
#James Somerton#hbomberguy#I might do more posts talking about it#because honey i have a LOT to say!
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Okay... so it COULD be because, as a writer, I'm an ASSHOLE to my Characters...
BUT YOU KNOW WHAT'D BE FUNNY?
Danny, innocent, gets YEETED into DC. As ya do. And he's a bit messed up. But! He's a Baby Ancient in the making. Gonna be master of Spaaaaaace(~~~☆!) one day. Very exciting, only slightly relevant.
See, Ectoplasm? Dumb. That's why we need Cores and Brains etc. Never let Ectoplasm decide things. It WILL chose the "technically correct but now the buildings on fire" option EVERY SINGLE TIME. And you are running out of fire extinguishers.
Because it is dumb.
Very, VERY No Brain, Just Goo, Dumb.
And THIS Goo has a life to save. A Halfa too maintain in Peak Performance(tm). Because THIS Goo is VERY smart Goo(according only to itself) and TOTALLY knows what it's doing! Damaged meat bits? Oh that's EASY! You just FIX that! Replace with meat bits! See? It's BRILLIANT Goo. 10 out of 10 stars, me!
Small problem.
The instructions have been damaged.
PANIC.
Wait! No! We got this! We are Very Smart Goo(tm). And have Space Powers. This is FINE. We'll... we'll just FIX the instructions! Hand me a hammer! If we smash enough bits together, it'll sort? Of look right? Close ENOUGH? Yeeeeeah. We're GENIUS Goo~
Use THAT!
But where did they GET their ill begotten DNA? Well OBVIOUSLY the place all the OTHER DNA they had was stored, DUH? Keep up, says the Goo with literally no braincells making horrifying choices for an unconscious man. It's Earth.
As in... the planet.
It's not even HIS planet. It's AN Earth. A Planet CALLED "Earth" that dwells in the DC universe, not his, and is covered with ZERO(0) Fentons but plenty of superhumans and aliens. THAT planet.
The Goo grabbed the Very BESTEST Meat Instructions it could FIND! The Goo is also a collective and did not AGREE on what the "Best" WAS. But it's... okay, no, I can't lie to you, it is NOT fine.
But thankfully it IS stable.
Because Ectoplasm may be dumb and indiscriminate as super-bacteria with a flamethrower, but it is a MASTER at the jigsaw of Life. It can reanimate ANYTHING.
Including the now SINGLE MOST CHIMERAD MAN you've ever SEEN. Who is he related too? YES. His left knee is Kryptonian, the fingers on his right hand are Tameranian, his skin tone has shifted to the most ambiguously multi-ethnic tone imaginable (think that future of humanity mock up, where they combine every ethnicity on the premise that inter-racial marriage will becoming increasingly common up to the point where we all just kinda look averaged out thanks to the ease of travel) because it's trying to do all of them at once and none of them are willing to back down, because all of them got the instructions "Be Skin". He might have Slade Wilson's cheek bones and hair.
Danny wakes up and basicly is half Ectoplasmic Goo, half the extended Super Community.
AND CANT GET BACK HOME TO FIX IT.
Because of course this IS fixable. It's just medical shape-shifting. But without HIS template, undamaged. His body is REFUSING to change from what is OBVIOUSLY the CORRECT form. And he keeps getting clocked as "probably related to me".
With the Fenton Luck kicking in? The parts of him people manage to swab and/or get DNA from? Keep MATCHING them. Danny doesn't know WHO is behind this but-! *spots a giggle child with a cat* !!!!!!
You.
Klarion you little SHIT!
So now he's wearing a face that's BARELY his, running from very determined superhumans who want to parent him, trying to steal enough technology to build a portal. AND vowing to kick the witch boy's ASS.
This ISNT FUNNY, KLARION.
His body is Frankenstein's FEVER DREAM! Every time he gets hurt, it tries to "FIX" itself! He lost a chunk of his should back there and HIS ENTIRE BODY CHANGED SKIN TONES. He's pretty sure if he SITS funny, his teeth might fall out and regrow POINTY! He's handing you over to WALKER you horrible little gremlin child!
Just? Take the "Danny is related to X" and "Danny is sick" and turn them uuuuup. Make EVERYBODY concerned except Danny. This is just another fucked up adventure in a long string of fucked up adventures. Give him his DNA back. If he has to suffer the Fenton Luck then he should AT LEAST get to keep the Fenton "built like a tank"!
*gets hit again*
*is GREEN now for some reason* The fuck?
Garfield, aka Beast Boy: I HAVE A CLONE SON!?
Danny: Zone DAMN IT not another one!
@ailithnight @hdgnj @nerdpoe @the-witchhunter
#tw body horror#dpxdc#dp x dc#dc x dp#dcxdp#dc x dp prompt#danny phantom#never let the Goo drive#chimera au#Danny looks A BIT like everyone#just enough to be suspicious#chaos happens and klarion laughs
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The idea that dwarves are fanatical isolationists who never leave their mountain fortresses is a very widespread misunderstanding. True, dwarves as a whole do primarily live deep underground, and spend most of their time there. True, some dwarves may live their entire lives without seeing Sol's light, regardless if it had been reflected off of Luna or not. Dwarves that live and work on the surface are the exception, not the rule.
However, even the most introverted of dwarves do go outside - they just need a good reason to.
Father Mountain shook in a fit of unintentional malice. Dwarven strongholds were no stranger to his quakes and were specially reinforced against them. This was no mere quake, however. A great and terrible divide between the Earth Mother and Father Mountain has opened up. From deep, deep within the crust an ancient battle has been unearthed and brought to surface, and is bathed in the light of Sol. Every dwarf from the most experienced elder to the tinest babe can feel the souls of weapons. Weapons of great power, and mass destruction. They were wailing mournfully for their masters, their craftsmen, and their comrades. The sound echoes inside every dwarf's mind living in or on the great Earth Mother. Dwarves traveled in droves to this great divide. Weapons of ancient, rusted metal sat, half-disintegrated from age and underground weathering. Their voices were broken into a great many pieces scattered around the wreckage. Intermingling with the shattered fragments of ancient bone and armor. Only the mightiest of weapons had their voices intact. Rusting, derelict metal hulks twice, thrice as big as the wooden carts these dwarves rode in on, and their beasts of burden. Thick, heavy armor plating could still be picked out from their flaking hulls, just what kind of weapons were these built to protect against? The kind that still stood tall, long, hollow tubes that still smelled of ash and black powder, pointing to the sky on rusted hinges or bent low to the ground from shattered turrets. Rough dwarves' hands felt along the edges of these beasts, and they began to speak directly.
"Where is my commander?" The weapon asked.
"I don't know. Dead, probably." A dwarf replied.
"Where is my crew?" The weapon asked again. "I do not know." The dwarf replied again.
"Where are my comrades?" The dwarf looked around, all around at the similarly-shaped hulking rusted beasts that littered this shattered hellscape.
"All around you." The weapon stilled at that.
"Did we win?" The dwarf thought for a moment, pondering the weapon's question. Truly he did not know. This battle is ancient. Anyone who once remembered what took place here is likely dead. Anyone who has historical records of what took place here is far, far away; if they even exist. He looked around. A great many metal beasts littered this battlefield. With two distinct styles between them. The other beasts greatly outnumbered the one he had been talking to, and were in a much worse state of disrepair. In recent history, wars were not fought with these unfamiliar weapons, none existed in museums or history books. He nodded to the weapon, as if it could see him.
"Yes, you won this battle, and the war this battle took place in has been long, long over." The weapon stilled even more, and a sigh escaped nonexistent lips from nonexistent lungs. Its ancient soul finally rests, at peace.
With this knowledge in hand, soon every weapon's soul on the site had been laid to rest. Days later, the Earth Mother swallowed this ancient history back into her deep, dark depths unknowable.
Dwarfs can hear a weapons voice, Swords speak in vigor, Bows speak with precision, Hammers are blunt and to the point. But when a Dwarf found an old human tank, as their fingers ran across its barrel it heard it say a tired firm voice “I will watch until I am needed again”
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