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ctrlsatoru · 11 months

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DIABLO - TOJI FUSHIGURO

content: techbro billionare!toji, reader is gojo's little sister, age gap (toji's in his mid 30s, reader in mid 20s) kind of ooc toji, suggestive themes, no smut yet. warnings: 18+ only. suggestive themes. explicit language, references to sexual assault. toji having no sense of decorum. reader is engaged so, cheating? but not really and not yet. minors do not interact. pairing: toji fushiguro x afab gojo!reader word count: 8k a/n: i was listening to diablo by lexie liu and the rest was herstory. started as porn without plot but things escalated. will proofread this later. summary: Toji Fushiguro looks like a problem, and you know better than to let curiosity get the best of you, until boredom strikes.

There was a time when you speed-walked through this very same building with the drive that only a determined intern could contain. Six days a week, from busy mornings to late nights, you embraced every task they tossed your way, seamlessly transitioning between the demands of different editors.

In the midst of it, one newly appointed creative director saw your efforts and took you under her wing. What began as a professional mentorship soon evolved into an enduring friendship that extended well beyond your time at the magazine.

Utahime Iori, a guiding presence in your life, became one of your favorite people in the world—a friend with whom you shared an unspoken understanding, effortlessly reading each other's thoughts with a single exchange of glances across the room.

Fast-forward five years, and the abrupt, intrusive ring of your phone tucked under the pillow shook you awake. It was Iori on the line, her voice laden with urgency and distress. She was stuck in Kyoto, needing you to do her a solid one. Her father’s condition had worsened overnight, and she wouldn’t be able to make it back to Tokyo for a critical photoshoot.

And so, here you stand, back at the bustling headquarters of the technology and culture magazine where you started your career. Despite your throbbing headache and the relentless fatigue that clings to your tired eyelids, you refuse to let your friend down.

Today's mission: capturing profile photos for an enigmatic tech mogul, a figure so elusive that no magazine has ever managed to secure an interview or collaboration. Probably some Zuckerberg from shein with an amped-up eccentric, incel overlord edge.

Iori had shared the name and a brief overview of the assignment during her desperate call, but the details had slipped through your grasp in the haze of your concern for her.

If you remember correctly, the concept is something corny along the lines of Diablo.

“Ok,” you breathe after the third scalding gulp of coffee that someone thrust in your hand the second you arrived.

Utahime's assistant, a young girl with striking blue hair and asymmetrical bangs named Miwa, looks up from her phone at you with bright eyes, relieved that you’re finally showing signs of life.

“Uh, who the fuck is this guy again?”

You’re momentarily distracted by how cold this place is. A shiver cuts a straight line up your spine. July in Tokyo is no justification for keeping the set at industrial fridge temperature, you think. For some reason, Miwa’s opening and closing her mouth like a fish out of the water. You know Utahime can make any seasoned truck driver sound graceful when she’s under enough pressure, so it can’t be your choice of words.

You fail to notice your surroundings coming to a stop, or the shadow towering over you.

“Toji. Toji Fushiguro.”

Oh.

That's one way to sober you up.

You’re definitely awake after hearing the deep yet smooth rumble behind you. Everyone within earshot gets ready for what’ll happen next as that oh shit realization settles on your shoulders.

But you’re no longer the eager intern who hid in the bathroom to cry after a rookie mistake. Nothing in your face gives away your heart threatening to crawl out of your ribcage. You turn around bravely and face a soft, dark blue surface.

No choice left but to look up… and up again, until he’s framed inside the thin silver structure of your glasses.

Your first impression of him is simple: no one this tall should stand at this close of a distance. There should be two, or three meters between you to make up for the lack of an acceptable height.

Toji Fushiguro -the name does stick this time- tilts his head to the side and gives you what might be the most shameless once-over. His eyes feel like a dark green horizontal light scanning you from head to toe. It ends with a quizzical expression on his face. The irk is triggered within the second.

“Who are you?”

That same question pops into your mind.

The hair team probably spent twice the time it took you to get here on LA traffic to arrange his inky black hair in the perfect unbothered way. There’s a healthy glow on the sharp edges of his face that can only be the result of seamless natural makeup, enhancing his ruggedly handsome looks.

You’re thinking that by too big, Iori meant that he’s massive. Literally. Wide shoulders block the tungsten spotlight behind him, casting a shadow on you and drawing a luminous halo around his silhouette.

Nothing’s angelic about him. You can tell just by looking. It’s a family gift. You may not have your brother’s electric baby blues, but you have the sight, as he calls it, and the alarms in your head are off.

Miwa shifts her gaze between you like she’s about to shit herself when Choso, the head photographer and a good friend of yours, cuts through the tense atmosphere with admirable ease. He rests a warning hand on your shoulder and takes it upon himself to introduce you.

"She'll be our director today, stepping in for Utahime."

Toji Fushiguro turns to Choso, his eyes never leaving you, observing.

“Why? What happened to Utahime?”

"She had an unexpected family emergency and asked her to fill in. She's worked with us before, and she's excellent at what she does. You're in capable hands today."

What a star, Choso. A beacon of diplomacy. The world would be a much more peaceful place and the arms industry would collapse if he got into politics, you’re sure.

Still under his scrutiny, your expression remained composed. You knew his steely smile would fade soon, and—

“Well, that’s all that matters, isn’t it?” Toji concludes breezily, extending his hand toward you.

You reciprocate. Unlike him, you don’t even look down to see how his palm engulfs yours. You just know it will. He on the other hand lifts both eyebrows at your firm handshake.

“I look forward to working with you, Gojo.”

Two hours in, it occurs to you that it might be the case that everyone on set is under some kind of horny spell.

Him nearly walking through the backdrop five minutes in and laughing it off with a cocky comment and a devilish grin sets the entire set on edge from the get-go.

Apparently there’s something about an overwhelmingly tall, ripped, attractive grown man pouting like an iPad kid when his tiny but scary female assistant comes in between breaks to confiscate his phone. There’s a brutish charm about him that makes people act like Victorian gentlemen glimpsing an ankle for the first time in their lives.

The wardrobe assistants are in a heated discussion about how many hands it would take to wholly grasp his bulging biceps.

You, however, remain the skeptic, observing from the fringes. Though if you took any part in the conversation, you’d point out how fucking thick his neck is. Does he lift weights with that thing? What does he need all that for?

When the makeup artist approaches him for touch-ups, he widens the distance between his feet until his face reaches a comfortable height for her to work away. The behind-the-scenes team gobbles it up like ravenous piranhas, and you expect to see this doing numbers on the magazine’s YouTube channel.

Done with feeling out of the loop and not satisfied with what you catch from the set gossip, you take a bathroom break and allow curiosity to get the best of you. You lock the stall door, sit on the lid, and google him.

His name auto-completes after just three letters. You stare at the Toj on the search bar before digging in.

Techbro, self-made, controversial, messy family background. He was the mastermind behind the acclaimed video game, Diablo, which exploded in popularity during the early 2000s. For years, he's faced criticism in several countries for glorifying violence, gang activity and accusations of satanism. You have to chuckle at that. Nonetheless, Diablo hit it off big and he went on to found a videogame and software company under the same name. He's been steadily encroaching on giants like Tencent after repeatedly refusing buyout offers.

Buzzfeed has a trove of ridiculous articles filled with GIFs of him looking scary and hot at the same time, of him looking like the bodyguard of everyone’s dreams, of him taking no shit from the press. Of him looking like a character out of his videogame. You get the idea.

But something else in the personal life section draws your attention.

He’s a Zenin. And not a distant one. He’s Naobito Zenin’s very own nephew.

According to a twitter thread, he severed ties with his fucked up dynasty of a family when he was younger and paved his own way under his late wife’s last name. The reasons for the fallout are unknown to the public, but theories are abundant in the replies. You bookmark that for later.

You can't help but wonder if your brother knows him.

With all this newfound context, you’re almost disappointed that he showed no offense to your frankly rude introduction. After all, you’re a Gojo, the impulse to antagonize a Zenin runs through your veins. And if it’s not an inherited impulse, Satoru personally taught you how to handle them. One of your favorite early teen memories of your brother is watching him reduce Naoya Zenin to tears.

The handshake felt layered, like a declaration of war tucked behind a steely smile. There’s a glint in his eyes when he catches you looking that contradicts the unbothered, enigmatic persona people are simping for religiously online. It’s there and it’s gone, but you’re fast enough. It tells you that he’s playing nice as a temporary measure. If you have to guess, he’s planning to make his team bring up your misstep up to the magazine higher-ups.

You're torn between concern for Utahime and a deep-seated desire to see him try.

The day unfolds smoothly with minimal intervention on your part. You stay behind the monitor and let the crew do their job. Your role mainly involves offering insights when requested by the wardrobe team and flagging promising shots with Choso.

Seeing him go through different stages of boredom and despite his not-so-wide variety of facial expressions, you note the camera doesn’t hate him. It's a unanimous consensus that, in another life, he could have pursued a career in modeling, or perhaps even acting. When someone inquires about your opinion on the matter, you become the focal point of a few discreet side-eyed glances. Your response is a non-committal hum.

Your attention is currently fixated on the last sequence of preview shots displayed on the screen, there’s a very specific detail that you just can’t let pass.

“Can we take a quick break? I wanna try something.”

Choso, taken aback by your sudden initiative, responds, “Yeah, of course, take your time.”

Toji’s face drops from the draw of his eyebrows as you approach him.

“Hi,” he says with that off-putting lift of the corners of his mouth that is supposed to be a smile. He’s probably thinking that your stalling is only prolonging what he wants to be over with.

“Hi,” you catch his inquisitive glance at the objects in your hand. “Is it okay with you if I wipe off your scar?”

His eyes snap down at yours as he thinks it over, squinting for a bit. You’re certain he’s about to tell you to fuck off when he nods briskly, opening his palms as if beckoning you closer.

“Go ahead.”

It's a polite, seemingly harmless green light, yet it feels like you're a bird about to peck at grains of rice beneath a box suspended by a stick.

“Can you—”

He reads your hesitation and does the same thing you’ve seen several times today. He opens the distance between his feet, clasping his hands behind his back. You, for some reason, wait until he looks up at the ceiling like people on the makeup chair usually do out of instict, but he stares at you instead.

Taking a Q-tip soaked in micellar water, you start working away the thin but high coverage layer of foundation, careful not to overdo the edges. A few swipes in and the natural rosy hue of scarred tissue appears, a few shades darker than the color of his lips. It’s a slender, vertical ridge that cuts across his lips, about an inch long. A feature too distinct to waste.

You pull back and he takes the brief chance to run his tongue across the scar, pulling a face at the taste he finds.

Unfazed, you wipe away any excess micellar water and—well, his saliva, you assume—with the dry side of the cotton swab. Once you’re done with that you pat away with a disposable puff dipped in translucent power, just to get rid of any unnecessary shine.

“All good? You satisfied?”

“Yes.”

“Cause you don’t look satisfied.”

You’re happy with the outcome of your tweaking, yes. The overall shooting? Well, you’re not in love with it, but you don’t have to be. This whole thing has Utahime’s and the magazine’s aesthetic written all over it, harsh contrasts, blunt shadow.

“This is Utahime’s concept, I’m going with the brief,” You answer, taking a step back to get an overall look and consider any further touch-ups, stopping him when he starts to go up again. “No. Stay right there.”

“What concept would you go for?” he asks, complying pointedly.

“Like I said, I’m going with the brief I was given.”

“But if you were the original director?”

You wouldn't even be assigned to the task. You left the magazine shortly after you finished your internship and never looked back, even though you liked it here and were being given a much nicer offer than you were expecting. The reason for it being that you found out that your brother had been wining and dining members of the home editorial, showing interest in negotiating for the magazine.

It was a no-brainer for you to part ways and find another way. These days, you work with brands and entertainment agencies that allow for more creative freedom, usually sought out for your particular aesthetic.

“I wouldn’t be so heavy on making the tech oligarch look human.”

You reply more out of impulse than calculation, the same way you touch a cat’s tail knowing there will be consequences.

“You suggesting I don’t look human?” He flashes a cold grin at you, kind of like a warning. it’s gone as soon as you blink at him.

The novelty has worn off. Most of the crew are busy doing their own thing, discussing lunch and stretching to alleviate the fatigue of a long day. A few lingering glances remain trained on you— Miwa, Choso, his soldier of an assistant. Toji doesn’t wait for your answer.

“So, what do I look like, then?”

Like a shark, you think. Don’t ever grin at me again, creep.

“You’re a curious one, aren’t you?”You tug lightly at the neckline of his shirt, just a pinch of the fabric, barely touching him at all. "Maybe that should be included in the profile."

He hums. “I do get bored easily.”

You conclude the brief interaction and walk away, acknowledging Choso with a nod, all the while ignoring the way Toji’s amused eyes linger on you.

Like you’re just postponing the inevitable. Whatever that might be.

He finds you later that day, after you’ve wrapped up.

He enters the room with the unspoken confidence of someone who believes he owns not just the studio, but the entire building. Like he's just acquired the magazine and now feels entitled to disrupt your peace with a shitty opening sentence.

“Your work.”

You look up from your phone and find him in the mirror in front of you. The hair and makeup team packed their stuff a while ago, all the stations are clean and deserted, and only the lights remain on.

“It’s… interesting. The butterflies, are they alive?”

You look up from your phone and find him in the mirror in front of you. The hair and makeup team packed their stuff a while ago, all the stations are clean and empty, and only the lights remain on.

“Sorry?” You’re unable to hide your annoyance at the unexpected interruption.

“I googled you. Your work. It’s eye-catching, quite… I guess eccentric’s a good way to describe it. Very edgy.”

You’ve heard your fair share of similar comments in the past, but he pouts and frowns with the last two words and irritation pulls at you. You let your hands drop to your lap.

He leans nonchalantly against the door frame, arms crossed, undeterred by your silence and your less-than-friendly attitude.

“I was wondering, are the butterflies real or is it CGI?”

You can’t for the life of you decide if he’s being serious, or decipher his intentions. “Neither. They’re props.”

“They look very realistic.”

“They do,” you agree. “That’s the intention.”

“And the flowers?”

“Those are real. For the most part.”

“I see. So how would you have me?”

“Excuse me?”

He visibly fights back a smile, and you wonder if this one would’ve reached his eyes, but seeing how you’re going back and forth like you can’t let the other get the last word, you doubt it. You doubt that he’s capable of such a human thing. Smiling warmly. Honestly.

“You said not so heavy on the looking human earlier, so what concept would you go for if we worked together?”

Because he won't leave you alone to discuss dinner plans with Satoru and Suguru, you stand up from your seat and turn around to rest against the floating station. Facing him like this feels a lot safer than speaking to him through the mirror while giving him your back.

He’s dressed in his own clothes, a basic light gray t-shirt several tighter than the soft material the stylist put on him and a pair of dark jeans. His phone is, as usual, attached to his hand, constantly lighting up with notifications.

“I don’t know. It usually takes me a week to get a feel of the concept.”

“I saw the tank pictures,” he replies a bit too quickly as if he didn't care for your answer. You’re certain that you don’t like this man. You don’t like how bluntly he describes your work, or that you immediately know what he’s talking about.

Knowing how things went on that particular set and from the way he looked absolutely done in the most basic environment without having to do much work, that would be a disaster.

“I wouldn’t put you in a tank,” You snort dismissively, and he tilts his head curiously.

“So?”

A string of visual prompts runs through your mind. You’d submerge half of his face in black tinted water, or have his head resting on a white surface, make blood spill from his eyes. Perhaps you'd drown him in smoke or apply early 2000s mechanical prosthetics to his face and neck. You’d make his skin flush like rubies as if it were burning to the touch. In every single one of them, his scar is left untouched.

“Nothing you’d be comfortable with.”

“You see, I think we could meet in the middle.” he reasons, very eloquently, like he knows just what to say to negotiate with you. You imagine that this is the same voice he uses with his board members to bend them his way. “Can’t say I’d be down for the body-pilling thing or the full-body suits, but I’m sure we could come up with something that leaves us both satisfied.”

“Are you trying to hire me right now?” You’re genuinely confused. And hungry, and tired, and nursing a lingering hungover.

“No,” he chuckles, like the notion is absurd “but you looked bored on set today, and I think I could live up to your vision, is that the word?”

“Right, uh huh.” you nod, very condescendingly, remembering that you’re no longer filling up for anyone or hold any professional responsibility. This is just some man wasting your time. “So what is this? You got a praising kink or something?”

He’s unbothered by your dig. “Not that I know of. Can I be honest?”

You lift your shoulder in a half-hearted gesture. It's not as though he cares about seeking permission anyway.

He lets his eyes drop to the floor and looks back up at you with a bashful little grin.

“I’ve just always wanted to fuck a married woman.”

You’re not as surprised as you are relieved that he’s cut to the chase. He’s not the first man to detest you and want you at the same time. Men often blur the lines between disdain and sex. It’s only fun when they don’t get too comfortable or want to only deliver and fold when it’s their turn to take.

The situation settles on you. The room seems smaller now, and the distant sounds of people outside have all but faded away. He's blocking your only exit, put you in this tight spot intentionally.

There’s a possibility that he’s some exception to the norm, that he can take as much as you suspect he can give, but you’re not going to find out.

“Too honest?” He's devoid of any shame or attempts to sound apologetic. Instead, he's assessing you closely, monitoring you for any reaction.

You know men like him. He has to be used to people eagerly dropping to their knees with just a tilt of his chin. Most of the people you worked with today would do so without hesitation. But Toji Fushiguro, with his insincere smile and unflinching demeanor, harbors far more selfish and hostile motives than bending you over the same chair you were sitting in and making you watch in the spotless mirrors.

“Should’ve kept my intentions to myself?”

A corner of your lips lifts, and he zeroes in on it.

“Didn’t scare ya, did I? You’re a big girl, you're not gonna run.”

He’s daring you now. Fully predatory, like he’ll do something at the slightest indication. Shark. You picture him stalking his way into this secluded space that only the crew knows about after finishing recording videos for the magazine’s social media accounts, his shadow looming across the narrow corridor.

Fear and power. That’s his deal. He either wants to witness a furious flush down your neck, your throat bob in trepidation and your hand look for your phone–

“And do what?” You cross your arms, refusing to cower. “MeToo you? Expose Japan’s mysterious self-made billionaire hellboy? Reddit would riot.”

–Or he wants you to bite back.

“I mean, considering the way you were eyefucking me I think I could probably pull the reverse MeToo card on you.”

Your chin drops, your eyebrows go up, and your head leans back at the accusation. Were you? Eyefucking him? Maybe.

But so was the whole room.

And nothing’s stopping you from bullshitting. “Someone’s optimistic.”

“Is that it?” he smiles, tantalizing. “Do you always just take on the job of the make-up kids out of the goodness of your heart?”

You're not going to indulge him with an answer to that. It's not uncommon for you to take on various roles and responsibilities during your projects. There was a time at the beginning of your career when you engaged in every aspect of your work, from styling and set design to prop work, editing, and even makeup.

“Right. You go ahead. Tell Instagram that I sexually assaulted you with a cotton swab.”

“It’d be just another Monday for Gojo’s PR mercenaries, right?” he pushes you further, casually dropping the G-word as a last resort.

“Everyone likes to look at pretty things, don’t be cocky, old man.” He starts blinking real fast like he’s never been called old to his own face. “Earlier, you asked me what you look like.”

The scrunch of his nose indicates that he wants to say something before the subject changes, but ends up only squinting at you.

“I did ask you that.”

“You look like a problem,” you let your words hang in the air for a moment. “And not the kind I have fun dealing with, no offense.”

Finally, he grins again, tongue coming out to just graze the edge of his canines. Something inside your belly moves as you follow the movement.

“And I’m not married yet, so– you might want to take your intentions somewhere else.”

He nods thoughtfully, then he buries his hands in the pockets of his jeans and lifts his shoulders, taking in a deep breath. The motion reveals a thin line of hard skin under his shirt and just the edge of his underwear.

Water under the bridge.

“Well, no harm in putting it on the table, right?”

Your phone buzzes. Your car is waiting for you outside. You move like he’s not standing by the doorway and blocking your only way out.

“Have a pleasant day, Fushiguro. It was nice to meet you.”

It’s Friday when you see him again at your friend’s birthday party.

He’s lurking his way through the party, nursing a drink with his eyes attached to the screen on his hand until the birthday boy himself hunts him down. Haibara, producer and pitchfork sweetheart whose debut album cover art you worked on earlier in the year.

It’s a funny sight, it would be almost endearing if it weren't for the fact that it's him. The sunshine main character dragging the hunched, brooding giant along with him. Toji looks like he’s trying his best to keep up, half-amused, half-annoyed, nodding as Haibara rambles away. You wonder how the two even fit inside the same room, Haibara being so charming and Toji, a walking threat.

Then you remember Haibara mentioning that he's been working on the soundtrack for a video game.

Your friends’ conversation mingles with the music and flows around you. Someone’s getting married to his ex-husband’s father. Yuki’s about to open her third concept store somewhere in Europe. You can’t be bothered to focus too much on catching up, but you do meet Shoko’s eyes across the room when Mei Mei says something particularly questionable.

You see a hint of longing in her eyes, a shared sense of missing Iori, just as you do. On a brighter note, her father's health is finally starting to improve.

A hand wraps around yours, and another settles on your shoulder. The cold press of a ring on your skin brings you back to the present. You look at your fiancé and get the dreaded feeling that you’re an impostor pretending to know what to do with a man so devastatingly beautiful.

Hiroki leans over your shoulder. “Car’s here.”

His hand feels hot and clammy on yours as he leads you out of your friend's sight, turning back occasionally to make sure he hasn't lost you in the crowd. He won't stop until you're both outside, standing by the side of the street.

“Call me when you land?”

Of course, he will. Nothing has changed. He’s starting a new project in some small town in the middle of nowhere in Europe in 24 hours. You won’t ask him to stay. Six months will pass, and nothing will change, you’ve both done this before.

But you stall. He always calls a car with this in mind. You kiss by the sidewalk, he squeezes you in his arms until your bones fight back. You’ve done this before. It’ll happen again, considering how his acting career is taking off overseas. You’ll do it time and time again until–

“You taste like pennies,” he tells you, and you can't help but laugh softly into his mouth. Your finger traces the barely there curve of his thick, straight eyebrows.

“Make sure to take an aspirin.”

He nods, always sweet and obedient when you’re nagging. You tuck a strand of hair away from his eyes so that people don't fall too hard for him on his flight. His hair has grown longer in recent months, part of his preparation for a role.

Back inside, Yuki makes room for you by moving her legs off the couch. She asks if everything is okay, and you pull her legs onto your lap, rolling your eyes. She knows you too well.

“Don’t gaslight me. Something was off.”

“Do I look like something’s off?”

“No, but you’re a fucking oyster. Hiroki’s not that good with his face for an actor. He kept looking at you like he was afraid you’d disappear.”

Choso chimes in, draping his arm around her shoulders. "They're getting married. I don't want to jump to conclusions, but I think he might like her, and he might enjoy looking at her."

Looking out of the window, your gaze naturally drifts toward a figure seated by Haibara’s covered dock. Earlier, it was adorned with twinkling lights, but now, even in the dark, you can discern a solitary silhouette in the middle of the glittery ocean.

Mei Mei taps her cigarette, fixing her eyes on you from the other side of the couch.

“Does it have something to do with Toji Fushiguro asking about you, by any chance?”

Your stomach drops. Your group of friends reacts quickly.

“Huh?”

“What does Toji want with you?” Yuki asks, face snapping at you. “Is he trying to get to Gojo through you?”

“We worked on a shooting with him a few days ago.” Choso calmly explains before she can come up with any conspiracy. “She was covering for Iori. Made quite the impression on him, I think.”

“Oh, Satoru’s gonna fucking hate that.” Shoko laughs, unexpectedly loud in her inebriated state. “Please, please fuck him. He’ll be so pissed if you fuck him. It’ll be hilarious.”

“No respect or regard for Hiroki.” Choso shakes his head, and it looks like he’s laughing from the way his shoulders move up and down. “Poor bastard.”

“Yeah, well.” Shoko shrugs, not bothering to hide her dislike for your fiancé.

You shake your head and roll your eyes. “He’s just pissy because I was not— exactly professional. I think the asshole might try to get me blacklisted.”

Choso makes a noise of disagreement. Yuki frowns in concern. “Shit. What did you do?”

“She showed up hungover, asked who the fuck he was when he was standing behind her, and traumatized Miwa.”

“Not Miwa. She's an angel.”

“Whatever you did, he’s asking around…” Mei Mei adds with a sick barely there smile, finger on her chin. You don’t like how well she knows you. She makes you feel like she knows exactly what went down that day.

You wonder how well she knows Toji, and how much he told her.

What exactly he asked.

“...and let’s just say that he’s not the curious type, so make your assumptions, everyone.”

You tap Yuki’s thigh without thinking twice and push yourself off the couch. A string of accusations about scaring you off follow, and Mei Mei teases you about not meaning to do that.

“Fuck off, I just need some fresh air.”

“But you’re gonna consider it, right? For me? Come on, it’ll cheer Iori up.”

“I’m not gonna fuck some random man just because you think it’d be funny, Shoko.”

And you’re pretty sure Iori would be the first to tell you to stay away from him. Shoko sags against the back of the couch like a puppy you stepped on.

You step out of the house, past the pool, the limestone steps, and stop only to take off your sandals. The sand is cold and yielding, no traces of the warmth of the slow Atami day left, soft grains clinging to the soles of your bare feet.

Haibara’s dock stretches out into the ocean, endless until you reach the far end and leave behind the sound of laughter and music. It’s him, like you suspected, sitting on the edge, his legs hanging over the sea.

With one elbow resting on his thigh and a phone in hand, his other palm supports his face. You sweep a strand of hair over your shoulder and inhale the salty breeze, opting to linger a while before revealing your presence.

“I think I got it.”

He looks up at you, momentarily caught off guard, allowing you to take a triumphant sip from your glass, the alcohol causing a painful sting inside your cheek. He's still engrossed in the medieval game he was playing from days prior, his commitment minimal, his thumb hovering over the screen.

You leave some distance between you as you take a seat, your glass resting between you. It’s a high drop from here, the water looks as if it could freeze you instantly.

“Hand-held CCTV cameras aimed at your face. Like guns. Point blank.” you finally elaborate, once you’ve found a comfortable position, demonstrating with your hand.

“Sounds fuckin’ uncomfortable.” he remarks, eyeing your demonstrative fingers. You wonder if he’s drunk and how much alcohol it would take to get him there.

You drop your hand, and he follows the movement. “I warned you.”

“So I don’t get flowers? No butterflies?”

“Nah.”

He lifts his gaze from where it had settled on your thighs, and you absentmindedly tap your ring finger against the bare skin out of habit.

“Thought I was pretty.”

You snort in response. Tonight, the moon shines particularly bright, illuminating the dock lounge. It's a serene spot to catch a break from the lively party.

“I changed my mind.”

He sucks on his teeth. “You can’t take a man’s virginity for being called pretty and then take it back.”

“If it helps, you’re still objectively nice to look at.” You say behind your glass. No point in lying, he’s hot. And self-aware. And you’re not blind or ashamed to admit it.

“Objectively nice to look at.” he repeats, like he’s getting a feel of it, or memorizing it for future use. “What about the fiance, then? ‘s he pretty? Enough for flowers and butterflies and shit?”

“I met him working for an editorial. He did get flowers.”

“Ah, I see. So, does he do that often?”

You let another sip wash down your throat, this time tilting your head to the side to avoid the sting.

He returns to his game, and you trace the profile of his nose while the screen highlights the hollows beneath his eyes and the fine lines around his mouth. If you were a bit more intoxicated, you might be tempted to snatch his phone and toss it into the water, anything to halt the conversation about Hiroki. It would force him to look at you instead.

“Leave you alone at parties.” he adds.

You've momentarily forgotten the initial question. “He’s my fiance, not my babysitter. I can take care of myself.”

“Never suggested otherwise, did I?” he sniffs, and a part of you, the sensible one, contemplates returning to your friends and disregarding whatever pulled you out here. Leave him be to enjoy his game and stay away from the one brewing between the two of you.

“What about your entourage? Are they comfortable leaving you out of their sight?”

“I can fend for myself too,” he says, eyes set on his phone. He seems to like to add your name at the end of his sentences.

“Can I play for a bit?” you ask, extending your hand. He hesitates, briefly glancing at you as if to confirm you're not taking the piss, down at his phone, and back at you.

His phone is big enough to feel like a console, and there's a very on-brand crack on the left corner that he warns can cut you. It gets him a side eye that he reacts to with a careless shrug.

You haven’t played any games in years or downloaded any since the younger members of your family grew out of the age where they came as useful, but you recognize this one from ads you’ve seen on Instagram.

It doesn’t take any experience to figure out that you’re supposed to manage some kind of orthogonal kingdom. There’s a castle and a medieval-style village surrounded by a tall wall, with full crops around. You tap around, collect coins here and there, zoom in and zoom out under his close watch. Every time you tap a building without a full green bar, a few options show up, you bite your lip to hold back a smile and hit the red X on the right corner of what looks like a church.

“Hey–”

He’s snatching his phone out of your hands before you can pretend to be sorry.

“Fuck you’d do that for?”

You don’t know why, but his annoyance hits you as the most entertaining thing you’ve seen or heard tonight. A grown-ass man next to you sulking because you deleted his little 2D church on his phone. Shoko might think you fucking him would be hilarious, but this, to you, is real comedy.

“What? You religious or something?” You doubt he is, given his controversies and taunting the satanic-panic crowd. He also happens to look like god left the room the moment he was born.

Toji shakes his head, not as an answer but to reiterate that you’ve pissed him off. A laugh full of mirth bubbles out of you. He’s tapping aggressively, filling up the blank spot with a smaller version of the building, and sucks on his teeth again, disappointed at how pathetic it looks around all his leveled-up properties.

“Did something happen to you as a child, maybe?” You inquire.

“What?” he gruffly responds, offering you an irritated glance. He’s kind of cute like this, frustration looks like a foreign emotion for a man like him.

“Are you diagnosed?”

He does a double-take again.

“Is that offensive to you?” you tease, struggling to contain your amusement at the situation. "Sorry, I know your generation isn't that comfortable discussing mental health."

“See, I might be socially stunted, yeah–” he gruffs after staying quiet for a bit, finally putting his phone inside his back pocket. You lift your eyebrows, eager to see where he’s going with this. “I can agree with that. But you rich kids–”

“Oh, us rich kids?” you gasp softly, not expecting that turn, you bite your lower lip to stop yourself from laughing out loud as he’s not done with his sudden rant. You’re fucking tickled.

He shakes a thick finger in your direction. “–You’re fucking uncomfortable to be around, you know? It makes you think that maybe bullying exists for a reason. They don’t rough the bunch of you nearly enough at those expensive private schools, do they?”

“Dude, I hate to break it to you, but you are a rich kid inside a grown man’s body.” He rolls his green eyes at you until all you see is white, thick eyelashes fluttering.

“Oh, I see. No, I get it. You’re self-made and I’m nepo trash. A spoiled little bitch with a bad attitude who’s never been taught a lesson, is that it?”

Animosity radiates out of him. He flattens his palms on the wood surface behind him and clenches his jaw, shaking his head like he’s not even going to try to reason with you.

“You wanted to hatefuck her but then she ruined your game and made you feel uncomfortable, and now the chase isn’t fun anymore.”

“Nah, you’ve got it wrong there, sweetheart. I don’t put people in such one-dimensional boxes.”

“No?”

He scratches the side of his nose before elaborating.

“Spoiled little bitch, yeah. But you’re a hard worker. And stubborn, too. You’ve been paving your own way, working real hard to traumatize daddy back, haven’t you? You run on pure spite, eh?”

“Fuck off.” you scoff, throwing back what’s left of your drink.

“And– get this,” eyes now glazed with a cruel glint, he leans in closer like he's about to share a secret, and peers down at your chest when you do the same “He’s the crowned king of our country’s conservative media, he’s also old as fuck, so that can only mean that he’s a raging homophobe on top of, you know? Violently misogynistic. You and your brother got your therapist's pockets nice and full, paid off a few nice vacations to hawaii, probably bought a big beach house for her.”

He stops and cocks his head, like realization just landed on him.

“But you, you’re weaponizing the fuck out of him. Christmas at the Gojos's a fucking nightmare for your poor little fiance, but you have your fun, don’t you?”

Just a few minutes ago, you’d been savoring the signs of irritation in his body language, mind running wild with all the ways you could make him tick, but now you want to punch him in the throat. Just bury your fist right there in that v-shaped Adam's apple of his.

“You’re cold-hearted for that, sweets. You know you are.” he accuses half-heartedly, the wicked glint in his eyes hinting that he's trying to strike a chord. “Tell me, does he prepare his social justice speeches beforehand or does he just sit there next to you, quiet and pretty and eats his dessert?”

“Don’t talk about my family, asshole.” You lick the inside of your cheek, but you know the strung tone of your voice will only egg him on.

“Why not? You’re on the news every day. Everyone talks about you.”

Usually, when it comes to your family, you’ve got thick fucking skin. You’re aware of the stain and privilege of your last name. The advantages you’ve had and people claim you don’t deserve. The fact that you’re the living consequence of your father cheating on Satoru’s mother.

Most of the things they say about your father and his monster of a corporation you can agree with, but you keep your head high and your thoughts to yourself and stick to sharing looks with Suguru when it gets particularly nasty between your brother and your father in family gatherings.

“He’s been causing quite the stir, hasn’t he? Your brother. If Alzheimer’s doesn’t do it, he might be the one to finally send your old man to the grave.”

But you don’t fuck around when it comes to Satoru.

You’re propping yourself up on your wrist and lifting your leg when his hand comes to your bare knee, stopping you from attempting to stand up and walk away. His grip is surprisingly gentle, though the tips of his fingers touching the back of your knees do send the message. It’s like he can’t let you forget how much smaller you are in comparison to him.

“Whoa, easy. I’m just playing with you.”

You blink down at him, face set, hoping to deliver the message that you might push him into the water if he fucks around any further.

“I have plenty of family baggage for you to hit me back with, have at it.” he adds, almost kindly.

You remember Naoya Zenin with tears running down his face. If you had to bet on it, you’d say that making Toji Fushiguro cry would single-handedly give you bragging rights over Satoru for the rest of your lives.

He hums when you sit again. “Go on, get as creative as you want.”

“I doubt you even have a family.” you bite “God knows what Zenin lab near Fukushima you escaped from."

“Weak but creative, I’ll give a tick for that. So, what I’m getting here is that you get along with him, then.”

You frown, confused.

“You couldn’t pretend to give a shit when I mentioned the fiancé, but you looked like you would’ve blown my brains if you had a gun on you the second I brought your brother up.”

He sounds suspiciously genuine. You don’t feel like elaborating.

“I know him,” he mentions offhandedly, leaning back. “Flashy cottonhead prick, doesn’t like me very much.”

“Can’t imagine why, enchanting as you are.”

“Probably gonna like me a lot less after this.” he reasons, more to himself.

He turns to you before you can dwell on what he means by that. “So, you’re two peas in a pod then? You and him?”

“I don’t see him that often.” you think out loud, your dinner plans fell through after a sudden change in his schedule. “He’s on some getaway in Osaka, performing some corporate sacrificial ritual.”

“And you’re too cool to involve yourself in such bland, boring affairs.”

You’ve had a bad feeling since your father announced he’ll be stepping down from his position. With the board and investors spiraling and Satoru suspiciously playing your father’s game, you see havoc brewing in the future; your father closing his fist around his leashes, children crying, kittens separated from their mothers and blood spilled on the floor.

And you want none of it.

“I’m an outsider. You don’t need me to explain how it goes, do you?”

He nods at you like he’d tip his drink at you if he had one, deep in thought.

You prop yourself up on your wrist and bring a leg up to rest your feet on the rough wood, inadvertently knocking over your empty glass. You both watch as it tumbles, rolling in a circular path until it meets the edge and drops out of sight, vanishing beneath in the inky water, as if it never existed.

“Water looks nice.” he says.

You hum uncommittedly.

“Wanna take a dip?”

His eyes are already on you when you look up at him. There’s not nearly enough alcohol in you to ignore the distance between you, or the lecherous dip under the friendly, harmless veneer. You wonder what triggered this change so abruptly.

You gaze down at your attire, a deconstructed, stretchy fabric ensemble unsuitable for water activities.

"No, but you can go ahead. I'll watch from here and look the other way if you start to drown."

He dips his head slightly, his frown implying you're a buzzkill. "Come on. You've never gone skinny-dipping?"

“That’s a very lame attempt to get me naked.”

He points at the party with a tilt of his head

“No one’s gonna see you. I will, but I’ll behave, 'cause you’ve had a rough night” The vague fucker carries on again before you can ask what he means by that. “I didn’t think you’d be this shy.”

“And I don’t think Haibara knows he’s friends with an old man that likes to creep on girls a decade younger.” you retort.

He's momentarily silent, and you believe he's finally relented.

Yet, he hooks a finger beneath a thin strap of your top that slipped down your shoulder at some point, deftly guiding it back into place. His nail barely grazes your skin, causing a shiver to course through you. He grins wolfishly, his eyes locked onto yours, darkness flickering from beneath his lowered lashes, tantalizing.

“Like you’re some innocent little lamb who doesn’t know better? I don’t buy it.” he mocks you, voice dangerously dropping. “Your cover’s blown, sweets. I see you. You’re a lot darker than you look.”

“You think so?”

“Mhm. You’re a little fucked up, ain’t ya? Got some real violent impulses tucked in there.”

That’s rich, coming from him.

"So perhaps you should tread lightly around me."

“I don’t mind.” he says succinctly like you didn’t just witness the black completely eclipsing the green of his eyes. “Tell you what, you’re more than welcome not to hold back around me. Consider me your safe space. Let it all out, you sure look like you need it.”

“How kind of you.” you croon, he blinks, slow and warm for you, lashes coming to rest on the sinking blue-tinted skin of his under eyes.

“You wanna go back and do drugs, Toji?”

The sea roars, a particularly violent wave crashing under you. He looks over his shoulder like he’s thinking of it.

“With your friends?” His tone is derogatory at the last word, unaffected, but you have a theory that if you were to put your hand on his chest, the rhythm of his heart would tell a different tale.

Cute. He’s cute. You want to chew him up.

He hit the spot about you not being the lamb, but another thing entirely. The thought makes you want to laugh in his face, but instead, you smile and pop a dimple, swinging your feet and imagining yourself dropping a handful of rice in front of him.

“No. Just you and me.”

#toji fanfiction #toji x reader #toji smut #fushiguro toji x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk smut #jjk fanfiction #toji fushiguro

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justthoughts1310 · 6 months

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ATLA and Marvel have the same misogyny

So... I've finally made it to episode 8 of Netflix's Live Action ATLA.

This may be shocking for some of you, because I wrote a post about how Netflix ATLA is misogynistic a month ago, but now I'm back again.

I specifically want to talk about the absolutely ridiculous and bullshit feminist virtue signaling that we are habitually forced to endure.

The scene I am specifcally referring to is the scene in which Katara demands that Master Pakku let's her fight. Then all of a sudden, the camera pans to all of the healers in the Northern Water Tribe (the female water benders) who stand ready to fight.

Yet, despite their immense power, they are begging this old as man for permission, instead of just doing what needs to be done.

This scene is giving... stupid. It's giving the 999th Marvel movie that NOBODY freaking wanted... okay! Does anybody remember that scene from Avenger's End Game (of course you do), in which all of the female avengers assemble, and it's one female cameo after another? I have no idea who liked this scene, but I didn't. I HATED this scene! I thought it was tacky and cringe, and I didn't understand why I felt that way.

Then in the Marvels, there's this scene in which Captain Danvers gets knocked down, and then there's this sequence starting from when she was a little girl playing softball in which she gets knocked down and gets back up.

The whole thing is soooo cringe.

It's cringe because it's heavy handed. It feels like one of those inspirational quotes you put on your wall that says something stupid like "She believed she could so she did..." or "Shero" or "Herstory".

It feels like a moment in which the male writers were like, we got to make women feel seen, so let's stop the flow of the entire movie and series and whatever is going on and have this really stupid overproduced moment in which the women look like bad asses, before we hide the women back in the background and let the real heroes (the men) take over.

All of this despite the fact that in hindsight, of all of the avengers assembled there to fight Thanos that day (both male and female, alike), Scarlett Witch and Captain Marvel were the only one's canonically strong enough to stop Thanos. Yet, we can't have that, because a man needs to be the hero.

Like stop stealing women's W's. It happens all the time in shows like Naruto, in which the most powerful kunoichi will get caught up by the most stupid insignificant thing, so that a man can end up saving her and she becomes the damsel in distress.

The narrative of women can be strong but never as strong as men because men need to be the hero is weak and tired, tell a new story!!!

Especially, because it really isn't all that true anymore. After the industrial revolution and the boom of tech, women and men's physically strengths have become increasingly more similar for decades. Why, because very few people need to carry giant logs and chop down trees to survive anymore! You don't need to be swol to complete a spreadsheet.

I digress.

My point is what these scenes from ATLA and Marvel have in common. It's the reason why they are both cringe.

Men don't see women as women who are unique human beings with our own unique desires. Therefore, male writers force powerful female characters to embody male characteristics that appeal to men.

You know all that flexing and all the abs and the sweat and the thirst trap scenes of half naked men like Thor and Captain America (even the scene with Sokka in it). Do you think those scenes are for women? Well, they are not. They are for men. Men get hard-ons for these kinds of scenes, and these scenes are specifically created for men and the male gaze.

Then they try to extend this to female characters, to show that they are feminists. However, this completely ignores the female gaze and female motivation.

The scenes really are women quietly asking for permission (not really) and then men loudly given women permissions to stand out and be powerful, but only in a way that satisfies the male gaze. Which considering the fact that men are socially conditioned to like feminine or overly sexual women, I have no idea who these scenes appeal to!!!

Like bro... read a freaking book. Learn about history!!! Real history!!! Women do not need the permission of men to be powerful, intelligent, strong, tactful or ambitious. Women have already been all of these things since the dawn of time.

Therefore, women don't need weird cameos that break up the pacing of the story or scenes of little girls playing sports, getting knocked down, and getting back up to feel seen. Women and girls do not need to be convinced that we are powerful. We already know it. We've been working in the background for centuries while men have taken credit for our labors, efforts, and endeavors.

All we need is for men to get the hell out of our way! We can see it right now with education and employment. Ever since women were allowed to attend school, women have outperformed men in education is almost every subject (and men and women are at par with each other in Math and Science). Women are also out enrolling men in college 2:1.

So instead of giving women 5 minutes of permission to be powerful in movies and shows and embuing them with masculine characterists, write a compelling female character from the beginning of the show. Develop her character as a person, who has to deal with the unique intersectionality of being a woman. Don't make her whole personality being a woman.

And if you cannot, write a compelling female character, then get a woman to do it!

End Rant. Thank you for attending my TED Talk.

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whirlwindofcomplications · 2 months

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girl (gender neutral) i don’t even really go here wrt: f1 but your brocades time travel tags go SO hard i’m obsessed with nico rosberg’s worst subject being history!!

THANK YOUUU the fact that my tags are comprehensible to others is crazyy I feel like they’re pretty nonsensical most of the time TT

he was literally a top student in all subjects apart from history (NERD) but like!! why are the history books on the shelves always repeating themselves!!! mr rosberg do u even know abba!!!

like although prosenna is ancient history to ME Senna only started racing after Nico was born, so he might have been young during the fallout but being so close to the f1 world from a young age also means he was probably far more aware of tensions and rivalries than other drivers his age, like. he should know the herstory! he should be like hey I’ve seen this movie before let’s NOT!! but instead he was like ik this could be a recipe for disaster but me and lewis? we’re built different. and they ARE different but alas… he knew all that but it didn’t matter bc of mortal HUBRIS. ugh men

anyways he did all the learning at once and then he retired 🤩 that’s my man <3

#my asks #nico rosberg #brocedes #I haven’t consulted ANY nicology for this btw im literally going off of vibes/what's rattling around in my brain #I do have only one (1) source for his worst subject being history so until I get this info from the man himself or better yet #he shows me his school report I will be taking it with a pinch of salt #(ie I will use it as evidence for my own purposes bc im obviously right anyways :P but yeah. I myself am not a reliable source)

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wickedhours · 3 months

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hi angels ! my name is kina, and i'm very excited to meet you & your muses and to eventually start writing with everyone !! i would like to introduce my weak - hearted, cat - loving, lost child who is just constantly looking for footing as she feels like she's experiencing a never - ending freefall into the unknown ... sounds dramatic bc she is just a little bit. i have her biography ready to read in case you would like to peek, but under the cut you'll find a summary of her backstory as i did gloss over some details that i knew i wanted to expand on in her intro ! if you're interested in plotting, pls like this post & i will haul myself to your dm's asap !!

( ♡ ) NAVIGATE ⸻ HERSTORY / PROFILE / PLOTS / MUSINGS TAG .

CONTENT WARNING,

sarang's backstory describes her dealing with a condition that is reminiscent of psychosis in addition to experiencing psychotic episodes, caused by stress built-up over time and thus affecting the control of her illusion manipulation. when the aforementioned topics come up in their backstory i will give a brief warning!

HER STORY,

⤷ she is the daugter of aeternals MAGICIAN ( illusionary magic ) and MIRAGE ( mirage inducement ), and she was born july 10, 2000, which was roughly seven months after her parents famously announced their secret marriage and the fact that her mom was even pregnant. they're both known as super private individuals who did not thrive in the public eye so just imagine the collective surprise !!!

⤷ even after sarang is born, she's kept out of the public eye completely. the public expected them to make that choice. it was mostly due to the fact that her parents wanted to wait to see when or if her own power would manifest. they wanted to protect their one and only child as best they could, so if she ended up not being a metahuman they just planned on keeping her identity a secret for as long as they lived.

⤷ luckily for them, sarang manifested her power at eight years old. they kept her a secret for another year and taught her how to control her ability at a very basic level just so that they can put rumors of her not being real to rest !!! they just wanted her to have basic defense skills just in case as they are active aeternals and no-doubt have enemies lurking in different places... they just wanted her to be a little prepared.

⤷ as she grew up, her parents continued to train her privately. they constantly pushed her past her limits in the guise of preparing her for her future as an aeternal. since her powers manifested, her parents knew they wanted her to follow their footsteps. it's a generally unexpected ambition of theirs given their personalities ... tbh sarang doesn't know what their problem is either !

⤷ not to toot her own horn but this girl is cracked with her ability. it's clear that the years spent training difficultly have paid off, bc many consider her to be skilled beyond her years. when she enrolls in the training academy, she confidently assumes she'll graduate with flying colors, and to everyone who asks her parents would say the same. so she's not sure why they constantly feel the need to continue pressuring her to go above and beyond.

⤷ ( tw: psychosis )the aftereffects of their parental guidance become apparent near the end of the semester during her second-last year as a trainee. she first thinks she's being sabotaged affected by another student's ability, perhaps a victim of sabotage, but this theory goes out the window when she realises she's still experiencing weird things outside of classes. why does she keep walking into walls when she clearly saw a door there a second ago? why is her reflection doing something different than her in the mirror? she's embarrassed and scared, and chooses not to tell anyone.

⤷ ( tw: psychotic episode ) it all comes to a head when during a random simulation training session. her concentration is nowhere to be found when it seems like there's so much happening at once !!! it takes longer to get her to snap out of whatever nightmare she might be experiencing, and luckily for her the only person who witnessed this breakdown was the teacher overseeing said session.

⤷ she hastily and impulsively drops out of the academy. it comes as an unexpected and sudden decision but she has been experiencing these abnormalities for too long that eventually she found that she cannot trust herself to become a superhero in the state that she's in. her parents try to save-face by lying to the public and claiming it's only a hiatus to focus on her health and recovery after a minor accident. she can't tell them what she's dealing with out of embarrassment despite their continuous calls to go back. she isn't ready and doesn't think she will ever be !!

⤷ the second chance collective was not unfamiliar, she just didn't think she'd ever step through its doors. the staff welcome her with a warmth she isn't used to, and they are patient with her despite her reluctance to open up at all. they keep the secret of her residency a secret and she is just thankful she feels like she can breathe for once — even if she doesn't know what to do for now. she takes blockers on days she feels particular unwell, but she is afraid of potential overuse so she still has outbursts where she can't control anything.

PERSONALITY,

⤷ prior to her condition worsening, she was known to be very unlike her parents. she loved being around people and enjoyed familiarising herself with those she didn't recognise. she never hated the idea of attention being on her and always tried to be a beacon of warmth to those around her who wanted someone to look to for a friend.

⤷ a lot of these traits still remain true, but there is a little bit of reserve. she really feels a lot of fear deep down as she still doesn't fully trust herself to tell what's real and what isn't. pretending like everything is fine, just like how she always did, makes her feel normal so she's trying to make it seem like nothing has changed.

⤷ i feel like because she's trying so hard to find that normality in her life, she could definitely come off as a bit insincere !! it's not her intention to seem that way, because she is genuinely looking for lifelong connections !!!! she was just so accustomed to feeling like she could make friends naturally that now she feels out of her element ... plus she feels like she has no one on her side ( she cut them out herself out of embarrassment !! ) so she wants to cling onto anyone willing to let her !!!!!

⤷ one of the ways she's trying to feel like she used to is by adopting a cat ... she never had a cat before but she's a natural caretaker and when she dropped out 2 months ago, she was on somewhat of an impulsive streak and officially adopted the stray cat she's been feeding outside her dorm since she became a trainee. she just didn't think he would be so naughty, but she assumes leo is too accustomed to the life of a stray to just suddenly become an indoor cat.

⤷ please don't bring up her parents or what happened during the "incident" or ask when she will be going back to the academy ... she won't say anything and she would like to move on !!! ( as the daughter of the masters of misdirection best believe she will find a way to get this conversation to go elsewhere !!! )

PLOTS / CONNECTIONS / THREADS ETC.,

please see here .........

⤷ i really believe it's easy for her to meet people despite her internal fear so i feel like there's many possibilities !!! i love brainstorming so no worries if nothing below fits either <3

she's kinda innocent. very much a good-girl who has never done anything wrong in her life nor has she ever thought about it. feel free to corrupt her slowly bc i think it would be funny ! she doesn't plan on becoming a superhero anyway so ... take that as u will.

she's a caretaker and it's ok to admit that sometimes it's a bad thing ! she can be overbearing but who else is going to take care of this person if not her !!!

for someone who was this close to become a superhero herself, she has gotten into trouble yet again. it's usually self-inflicted but this time it's not and she needs a little bit of help since she's not going to use her own abilities to get out of this ( they can be angry with her about it after if they know her ability, or take the nickname of her saviour in stride if they don't )

fellow ex-trainees pls unite ... if they weren't a friend of hers while they were in the academy she would like to change that :)

she doesn't consider herself to be lucky in the department of love due to a number of reasons but still goes on blind dates set up by someone she knows. it's something people her age do at least ... which is one way to feel normal?

she knows that her cat is a bit of a wildcard and incredibly independent but she has a heart attack every time he disappears for more than a couple hours. imagine the betrayal she feels when she's in the middle of putting up lost posters and leo walks out of their apartment ...

she really hates the idea of going to therapy sessions and dislikes talking about her problems but she decided to attend a group session in case it would help change her mind. seeing a familiar face doesn't ease her nerves but she forgot to bring blockers to prevent her stress from making her act out.

it's very very very hard to get on her bad side, mostly bc she tries too hard to see the good in people. maybe it was a misunderstanding that was never cleared up but she really cannot be in the same room as them ... how will they interact when they're stuck on the elevator together ...

#rj:intro #psychosis tw #photoshop and i are NOT!!!! friends #so im sosry for the half *ssed graphicnsjkfndjs #im gna have dinner now so i will get back to everyone after („• ᴗ •„)#` ♡ ⸻ 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄 : INTRODUCTION .

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munamania · 10 months

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hi everyone this feels wildly self centered and silly but i made a guide to my dyke drama/lore that i talk about in barely coded but convoluted terms. i love internet safety. doing this at the request of exactly one person and for the rest of u it's under the cut if youre curious and feel so inclined hashtag close friends <3 i highlighted my previous ways of referring to these people and important notes bc otherwise i just rambled soooo bad <3 and as much as im maybe romanticizing in some ways here i do genuinely care for and love (most of) these people outside of my weirdofreak brain and try my best to do well by them in our relationships. and maybe i just wanted to write beautiful things about my friends whatever

lydia: they're on here we met on here and now we're roommates. we met bc we were two of the only bitches posting in the muna tag and she was brave enough to reply to my one naomi video. and i was like um ok... FREAK.. and then yk we were mutuals but i was always paranoid they'd somehow know film girl or my roommates (or just. other ppl) bc i was being insane so that was awk but then i had a mental breakdown a little bit one night on here about my childhood and decorating for holidays and they offered to meet on campus and give me some leaves for my window and i was like aww (and we used them this year to decorate our shared apartment :')) and i remember i was wearing my black and white sweatshirt that i wore to go see dan live that ive since given away i think but it feels like. a sign u know.. or whatever.. and we do have mutual friends in weird circles including one that connects to steve (see later notes) so it's like chances are we couldve met in person but this just made it really special. we beef bad. but with sooo much love. and i do think we're better for knowing each other or whatever...

film girl: this was bad. i have a tag dedicated to anything i remembered to tag as part of the saga but it was so bad and beyond anything words can say... i'd give her another name but she could never be anything but film girl. it's like if u were there u know. if u weren't... let's just say i was crazy insane mentally ill bonkers jeff buckley lover you shouldve come over i know it's over. maroon 5 even about it. bad. but consider she leaned into me like she did her bf for their first kiss, said our night together when we went to our friend's party where she had dressed up as jennifer check (i showed her the movie it was a whole thing) and danced with me and talked right against my neck and grabbed onto me while walking and said she was maybe bi and i deserved someone really nice and im so swaggy etc and then going back to her place and making me food and watching himym on the floor (oct. 21st u will go down in herstory...) made her the 'happiest person in the world,' stayed over at my apartment until the following morning more than once, unwrapped her bruised hand and held it out to me to see/touch (absolute freaks moment like kill me actually. and that was the day i perioded myself. to use pj of bottoms' terms.) was just generally engaging in psychosexual warfare with me all the time. and we didn't even fuck. or kiss. and she had a boyfriend. who looked like a girlfriend (not that i personally had in february of last year but regardless..) i mean come on she was a straight woman she wasnt even allowed to say slay.. i genuinely still think we need to kill each other but it doesn't matter. how is she still linked to my life? well. we had a class this semester with steve and stede and lydia and scully (prof im in love with. this name is hilar), sort of friends with cool artsy queer girl group (hometown friends, one her best friend i almost met up with at muna concert (with her) one who looks a bit like jackie kennedy. ok not really but that's the one my one friend josh (woman) made out with last semester), had a class with steve and sam last semester with dave, our shared prof that steve told details of our first date and etc to.

steve: this is gonna be ex situationship from beginning of this semester - mid october. gets this name bc they're obsessed w that pirate show so like stede but i simply wont name them that and at this point im annoyed enough w their taste in things that steve feels fitting. anyway. was genuinely very kind and sweet but also got clingy soo fast and we were on very different pages. we'd met last fall (when they had a gf) and worked together on sets and in a couple classes, they kind of got caught up in my triangulation of desire for jane at her birthday party.. and i had fun flirting! um and they were genuinely again very very considerate and sweet but like. seemed to struggle to have a personality outside of their ex and maybe their siblings a bit. idk. just very passive. sowwy. also they were not a very good kisser. i do remember back in may being vindicated bc they also commented on film girl and bf

jane: naming her jane in a gay way. a jane austen way. in that i think we should write lifelong love letters to each other. holy shit shut up. so this is always 'friend im in love with' or 'a little in love with' or whatever. she is also girl with cool short hair and piercings and tattoos and a bookbag with tits on it so god forbid my infatuation. and i just love her voice and i think she's brilliant and so good at what she does and all around just like an awesome person she inspires me to be better and whatever. and she always dresses so cool and used to host house shows (i still never made it to one) (film girl did once) and when we first started talking we were at a film event and were supposed to be networking or whatever but instead we stood by the drinks together and talked abt how we both wanted to be friends in our writing class but never said it and thought the other hated each other a little bit but we were both just awkward and so we'd always make eye contact and laugh and banter together in class and i rlly was just in love with her. and this summer was crazyyy we were on steve's set together and i was a little freak just so obviously enamored with her but the thing is she was obnoxious too so i didnt even feel like a loser. she asked me to massage her arms once and said my half assed attempt was lame and we leg wrestled (also w steve. kinda funny. like yeah u would) and exchanged drunk stories and she said i needed better ones and then i beat her at stack cup at her bday and gave her her card and she hugged me and her lips were wet from the beer she just drank from and right on my arm and i was like wow. her kingdom (surrounded by people who she loved and loved her) for a kiss upon my shoulder. if u will. and i had to have a middle school Look Away moment bc she stripped in front of a few of us that night and i was far too intoxicated to not like lose my mind. also she was supposed to give me a book on set once but never did and im still bummed. and one random night she texted asking if id found a place to live and when i answered she never followed up and i still wonder what that was abt. if anything. um but she does have a boyfriend of like 5 or 6 years. from high school. the worst part is hes a semi cool dude but it's just like really. let her fuck a woman! just once even! jk they are both genuinely cool people first and i think it's great they found each other in this life. but also like fuck off ugh. yk. not to romanticize my life and friendships i just think in another life we were soulmates or maybe in a way we are now. but we also only knew each other for a brief time so maybe something else. we could've done backstreets

sam: friend i just mentioned recently who has a crazy name we shant get into it. i do have a different actual friend named sam but i havent seen her in forever. so i met them working on steve's senior film set and thought they were cool and they were one of the only ones to make it out to our post-wrap dinner/drinks and then we had two classes together this semester. and so we became sort of allies we'd meet up to go to the museum together and send each other the attendance and i went to see fnaf when he rented out a theater for a huge group lol and he helped on my film which meant a lot even if it was only for a bit cause of you know. the everything that was going on. with steve and etc. it wasnt easy to get there so like bless their heart. they also came up with the name for my film and we had that moment around the fire and well i do hope i'll continue to see them just as a friend even, and they're genuinely just the coolest they do a lot of drag and character/costume design and are genuinely just one of the funniest most down to earth ppl i know and they always have the coolest fucking outfits and hats and shit and omg they looked so good in their doc. just something abt the posture and the whimsy and the earnestness and look overall. woah. um when we were on steve's set my friend jackie leaned over and said 'i thought they were film girl for a second' so basically i need to redacted. but it's not like that bad of a resemblance. once again has a partner cause im cursed forever to sleep on a twin size mattress maybe or whatever. i havent even listened to that song more than like once but maybe it is real for me. anyway they were also in the class with steve and film girl with dave.

stede: im sorry this is so funny to me bc this person and steve go by the same name irl but spelled differently or whatever. we met and had a very energetic chat in the hallway at the beginning of this semester jim thought we knew each other lol. they're real cute and endearing and like i said kind of give butch. and we had two classes together but i had so much shit going on man i just. yeah. seemed like they were maybe a little into me but whatever. and well i think we should have a fling but who said that

jim: my buddy prof he's my buddy :-) he helped me so much sophomore spring as i was trying rlly hard to produce our class films and insane already over film girl (he didnt know that but it was omnipresent) and so close to dropping out and is just the coolest guy. he's a little bit like a father figure what who said that. i remind him of his youngest daughter a lot and ive lived in the same buildings as his older one. so just funny connections. i go to his office hours and such a lot with the film friends

grace: one of my film friends. (i just realized i do know a girl in film named grace but it's not her so anyway.) i am in awe of the way she commits to stuff and motivates people around her. she is just so game for anything to make the best of a situation. shes studying abroad this semester so ive only seen her on video chats/texted and missed the one day she came back for her bf's bday. well and she was the friend who said 'no he can keep himself busy' when we went to go see x together so she didnt make me hang out w her not even lame bf at first which was so nice. cause then i eventually actually did want to meet him. and theyre the least annoying couple ive ever met. and shes bi <3

jackie: another film friend. also love her dearly another stoner so we'd smoke together before class sometimes and just went on a walk with our other friend one night around the woods and stuff that was fun. i usually refer to grace and jackie collectively as 'the film friends.' we met in that spring of sophomore year (same class as film girl and jim). this one did have steve produce her senior film after they said they wouldn't work on mine bc of the ""situation"" i was a little sour that was an awkward um situation but it's whatever. i sometimes say film friends and mean a larger group of these ppl/a few extended but whatever

frank: ive just called him frank hes frank hes the coolest dude in the world i think everyone would be obsessed with him and i just think like man hes lived such a life. he's my short cool professor whos just so good at what he does. he's met so many people and done so many things. his van is so him he has a suction cup to pull his windows up in the winter and random albums in the front seat. im gonna try to work w him next semester. i was in that van last night feeling like i was in a gta level to go pick up pizza for our final class.

scully: my film comedy and tv analysis professor she is so everything to me... she loves women and evil women and gay people and camp and horror and comedy and tv and sex and just weirdo freak shit and shes so intelligent and quick on her feet and charming and just. an amazing lecturer. she said be gay do violence once. i felt seen. she said she used to pull her friends (favorite characters) out of the tv and carry them around in her pocket and i knew she understood... she saw bottoms and emailed me and lydia right away. and she's seen willow. and ofc so many other things. and she'll go 'this seems like the type of person/film/etc that you would be inspired by..' OK QUEEN I LOVE U. i want to do cocaine with her. huh. im taking gender and film with her next semester :333 im so excited

claire: friend from high school friend group who ended up ditching me and our other friend a lot that one summer and we almost lived together and we're just always kinda weird around each other but we were some of the only ppl the other hung out with fall semester 2020 so like.

drake and josh: i almost always refer to them together they're codependent a little bit roommates and i love them dearly and i met them thru claire sophomore year but ive hung out with them alone and stayed at their place when i got too drunk and that night i fell down the stairs. me and drake act a little homoerotic sometimes for fun. i cried at dinner over film girl once to her it was embarrassing. i miss going hammocking with them <3

dave: i had him last fall he's really cool he got me on a shoot w the mayor (and steve and jane) and was so cool about me not ocming to class a lot bc i kept in touch w him and hes my homie. film girl had a class w him then too and then last semester was the like news class that crew had together. and steve told dave all abt our first date and etc and got date ideas from him and i was like oh wow... ok lol

couch: couch roommate. theyre not relevant in my life enough to make a name but the couch story was stupid as hell and this one also left ground beef in the sink that one time and had a thing for a rugby girl that steve had a little fling with

jean: if i say 'one of my masc gfs' i probably mean them. sort of friends with couch like she was in my apartment once last year but um. yeah. had a crush on them for like a month at one point and we follow each other on insta and talked when we saw each other on campus the first time and thats like it. chances r ill forget abt this fake name and still just throw that in if i ever see her

#well. that said 👍#abby talks

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