#Bulldozer Tracks Parts

[cliksteelchina]

Bulldozer Tracks Parts - Steel CLIK Limited

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[tojiscrack]

𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄 𝐐𝐔𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒

summary: 12.1k words — you attend jujutsu high’s saturday football game on time, but arrive unintentionally late to another event, which spurs more consequences than you initially imagined

notes: it’s extremely late as i type this up (nearly 4am) but i wanted to get this one out asap for my two talented artists @kickingcat and @azr3na ! <3 you guys have made writing this story so much more enjoyable knowing that i have some AWESOME art to check out every once in a while, and it motivates me to write better quality work 🤧 for that, this chapter is dedicated to the both of you! tysm for ur hard work, it truly shows in the quality of your drawing! <3

tw: swearing, mentions of infidelity and cheating, demons, rituals, mentions of brutal murder, i think that’s all lol

previous chapter :)

next chapter :)

i do not own any of the characters of jjk, i only own the character of y/n and her mother. the other characters belong to gege akutami.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

the late saturday afternoon sun beamed brightly over jujutsu high's football field, casting long shadows across the trimmed grass.

the stands were packed with spectators, a sea of navy blue with pops of lighter blue from the cheer squad's uniforms, which shimmered with metallic accents under the sunlight. the players, clad in their dark blue jerseys with gold trim, huddled on the sidelines, their helmets glinting. you could spot players number one and two — yuji and megumi — from where you were positioned with satoru, who had you held up over his shoulders to showcase the large poster you and nobara had spent hours decorating; she was currently lined up with the rest of the cheerleaders on the track, pom-poms shaking in time to a peppy chant, while the faint scent of hot dogs and popcorn wafted from the concession stands.

on the opposing side, ridgeview high prepared for battle. their colours (a striking crimson and white) stood out against the green field as their players jogged through last-minute warm-ups, their jerseys spotless and sharp. similarly, their cheerleaders wore matching crimson skirts with white trim, their coordinated cheers echoing across the field as they tried to rival the noise from you and your peers on the stands.

the game had begun with ridgeview high immediately showing you why they were team you should be worried about, their offence tearing through jujutsu high's defence with precision passes and swift runs. by the end of the first quarter, ridgeview had been leading by two touchdowns, their crimson-and-gold-clad players celebrating wildly under the late morning sun.

panda, your school mascot that had been part of nobara's cheerleading group at the front, had let out a roar of disappointment. you raised your brows at the sound — he truly was yaga's son.

"they bulldozed us," you commented, your arms growing tired from holding up your pink, sparkly poster. you held it to your chest as coach yaga called back the team for a pep talk: he did not look pleased. "it's gonna be so embarrassing if we lose. i was talking so much smack to one of their players on twitter."

"we're not gonna lose," satoru reassured you from below, patting your thigh as though your worries weren't rational. "but if — we won't, obviously — but on the very rare occasion that we do, we know who to blame."

you nodded. "player number two."

"exactly! player number t— wait that's megumi," satoru frowned, throwing his head back so he could look up at you. you thought he looked odd upside down.

"mhm," you hummed, waiting for the next play to commence. "it's his fault 'cause... 'cause i say so."

"nah, that's a shitty reason," said satoru, looking back at the field where the players were preparing to commence the second play. "it's only okay if i say so — don't pull my hair, ow!"

you had given him a firm tug, fed up with his antics as he shook your hand off his head, causing you to sway slightly on his shoulders. you quickly regained your balance, gripping his head tightly.

"stop squirming," you muttered, giving him another light thump, to which he groaned but didn't retaliate. instead, he tilted his chin up defiantly.

"as i was saying," he continued, his tone matter-of-fact, as though explaining the newton's law, "it's not megumi's fault when you really pay attention to player nine's form."

you looked around, brows furrowed.

"player nine?" you repeated lowly, searching for the number on each jersey. the players had begun to disperse, but you spotted nine next to seven, his arm extended to pat his friend.

you frowned, confused when the realisation of who was beneath the helmet had clicked to you.

"that's kamo," you spoke aloud, both to yourself and to satoru, who let out a low whistle below you.

"yeah?" he responded, before lowering his voice down to a level where you were certain that if you had not been sitting propped up on his shoulders, you would have missed it. "unsurprising."

you pulled down your poster to hit his face, his immediate reaction to become frantic, risking you falling off.

"stop!" you demanded, panicked.

"your fault for being smart enough to pick a fight with the same person who's holding you up."

he wasn't wrong there, you accepted to yourself silently.

the game restarted with renewed energy, and you and satoru had started loudly cheering for both megumi and yuji, your voices blending with the collective roar of the crowd. you continued to wave your pink, sparkly poster energetically above your head, waiting for megumi to catch sight of it, for it had been tailored to specifically piss him off.

midway through the quarter, the ball was in yuji's possession, who skilfully dodged two ridgeview defenders with quick footwork. he spotted megumi sprinting downfield, and with a perfectly timed pass, the ball soared through the air. megumi leaped, catching it cleanly despite pressure from a ridgeview line-backer. and with incredible focus, he charged forwards, weaving through the defence, and managed to cross the goal line just before being tackled.

all at once, the crowd erupted as the referee signalled a touchdown, jujutsu high having finally closed the gap in the score. you and satoru cheered wildly, his excitement nearly knocking you off balance on his shoulders.

from the middle of the celebratory huddle, megumi's gaze wandered upwards, begrudgingly enduring the pats and slaps on his back from his ecstatic teammates. his expression (though difficult to see very well from where you were) was one of mild irritation, his posture stiff among the jubilant chaos.

you tried not to laugh.

he hated hugging, especially when it came from people he was not particularly close with, and anyone could tell. he did not do much to hide his distaste, after all.

as his eyes drifted above the sea of helmets, they landed on you and satoru in the stands, and when his expression had become stonier than it was during the hug attacks from his fellow teammates, you knew he spotted the poster.

amid the sea of sparkly pink glitter, obnoxiously bold bubble letters read "YUJI AND MEGUMI <3" in a mix of hot pink and light pink, glimmering in the sunlight. the glaring issue, however, had been the centrepiece: a photo of him, clearly edited, showing a toothy, radiant smile he had never once produced in real life.

you'd used a face app since he never smiled.

yuji's face was on the other side of the poster, but you'd made sure to decorate his side normally. after all, his picture had remained unedited due to the fact that he knew how to smile.

the over-the-top embellishments, featuring musa from winx club and draculaura from monster high, made the megumi's side of the poster even more ridiculous.

you laughed when he took his helmet off to pinch the bridge of his nose in exasperation, though his teammates mistook his reaction for post-touchdown exhaustion.

"woohoo! porcupine!" you cheered supportively.

he only slammed his helmet back on his head and turned away, returning to the game with more drive in his steps.

"sir!" someone from behind you called out loudly. "mr gojo! we can't — we can't see! you're in the way —"

"you'll get over it," satoru called back cheerfully.

the game had eventually ended with jujutsu high sealing a victory in the final moments. the cheerleaders' blue pom-poms shimmered in the afternoon sun as the football team huddled together in celebration, and you had realised with ringing ears, how you'd never heard such loud cheers erupt from the stands the way that they had that saturday afternoon.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

the room was chaos.

sukuna moved like a predator, his every step deliberate, his grin wide and mocking as he toyed with nobara. still, in her anger, she lunged at him, fist raised, her ferocity unshaken despite the bruises already darkening her skin. each of her attacks had been met with infuriating ease, sukuna parrying her strikes with casual movements that radiated his overwhelming strength. it was clear she was losing — her breaths were ragged, her stance faltering, but she pressed on regardless.

megumi was holding his sprained ankle, trying to find a way to stand on it that didn't feel like his entire leg was going to give.

every instinct told him to intervene, to distract sukuna long enough to pull nobara out of his reach, but doing so would be futile anyway, for his ankle had been annoyingly holding him back.

he gritted his teeth, glancing at the time on his phone.

you weren't here.

you had promised you'd come.

despite your tutoring session with kamo, you'd insisted that you wouldn't miss this. but now, with sukuna wreaking havoc and nobara barely holding her own, your absence stung, and megumi bitterly wondered to himself...

were you running late? or had you decided that turning up just wasn't worth the trouble?

his fingers tightened into fists. he didn't have time to dwell on your absence, yet it still lingered at the back of his mind like a haunting ghost, sour.

sukuna laughed for the nth time within the same hour — a cruel, echoing sound — as he knocked nobara's hairclips (which she'd been using to fight, somehow) out of her grip, sending her sprawling. megumi cursed under his breath, standing on his injured foot and pulling nobara back by her shoulder, putting himself between her and the demon possessing his friend's face.

"why do you keep coming back every twenty-ninth like we summoned you?" he demanded angrily, scowling when sukuna tore through another one of yuji's hoodies. this was getting really annoying.

"because you did summon me, megumi fushiguro!" sukuna roared back, his expression manic as he swung at megumi, his nails elongated to try and poke at his eye. megumi was pulled back by nobara's quick reaction time. "you summoned me once, now i'll return every month on the same day!"

"where's y/n?" megumi asked nobara, his head tilted slightly so he could glance at both sukuna and nobara at the same time. "she should be here by now —"

"i killed her!"

megumi and nobara exchanged a glance at sukuna's words, their reactions starkly contrasting. nobara's face flickered with confusion, her brows knitting together as if trying to decide whether sukuna was being serious or merely taunting them — it wouldn't be the first time, after all.

meanwhile, megumi's lip curled in pure disgust, his sharp glare piercing through sukuna's smug grin. the idea of you being dead — especially as an offhand joke — churned something bitter in his stomach, but he knew better than to react, for sukuna thrived on eliciting emotion, and megumi wasn't about to give him the satisfaction.

it was a stupid thing to say anyway. megumi did not like dramatics unless it came from you.

"is that... even possible?" nobara began, sounding uncertain.

"no," said megumi, brows furrowed, "obviousl—"

"— how would you know?" sukuna snapped, suddenly dropping to the floor to grip at megumi's injured ankle. megumi let out a hiss of pain as he kicked him off, but it had not been an easy feat, for sukuna's grip was iron-tight. "i ripped her body apart!"

nobara and megumi both worked simultaneously to take sukuna away from megumi's foot, but he was too strong.

"she said she's running a little late but she'll be here!" nobara hurriedly explained to the injured male, pulling at yuji's — sukuna's — hair.

he did not like that, choosing to release megumi's ankle in favour of jumping at nobara's neck.

"the library's not too far from here —" megumi snapped, throwing his arms over sukuna's shoulders from behind and pulling him away from nobara, holding him against his chest as hard as he could, "— hold and tie his arms — it shouldn't take her this long to — shit — get here!"

sukuna laughed menacingly. "she is in her tomb —"

"she — didn't — explain!" nobara said through heaved breaths; sukuna had been making it difficult to grab at his arms, swinging them back and forth with clenched fists, attempting to punch her away.

megumi let out a pained grunt, trying to shift his weight on his other foot. "well text her again —"

nobara widened her eyes at him, her pupils darting from sukuna to megumi to the mess made out of the room.

"— how?"

"SHE IS DEA—"

nobara karate chopped at sukuna's head, apparently having had enough of his constant interference with her conversation.

"can you speak when you are SPOKEN TO?"

furious with her attack at him, he roughly shrugged megumi off his back and immediately grabbed nobara's hair, pulling it harshly so she'd fallen to her knees before him.

"how dare you?" he began, contorting yuji's friendly brows into something more menacing. "this is where you belong, woman. at my f—" he stopped himself, looking over his shoulder at the sound of megumi's clumsy footsteps closing in on him. he immediately spun around and wrapped his hands around megumi's neck, tightening them to cut off his airways. nobara sprung into action immediately, trying to ease the iron-tight grip the demon had on her friend.

"what the he—"

"let go of him — oh my god —"

"I'VE HAD ENOUGH OF THIS ONE MENTIONING THE OTHER BRAT!" sukuna stated stormily, eyes glinting a dangerous red. megumi could see the extra sets of eyes blinking back at him as he choked for breath. it was not a pleasant sight. "YOU WANT TO KNOW WHERE SHE IS? HOW ABOUT I LET YOU JOIN HER —"

"she's not dead!" nobara argued indignantly, her face growing pale at the vulnerability of megumi's state, "and would you get your disgusting claws off him?"

megumi's annoyance towards you burned in the back of his mind, barely tempered by his dwindling focus on survival.

you should've been here by now — how much longer was a simple tutoring session supposed to last? controlling sukuna was already a monumental challenge with three people; with only him and nobara, it felt like a hopeless endeavour, for the demon was too strong, too fast, and far too unpredictable. if you had been present, your support could have made all the difference...

or so he angrily justified to himself, as sukuna's nails bit deeper into his neck.

suddenly, the demon's grip loosened, and megumi had stumbled backwards, gasping for air.

but his reprieve hadn't been born of any mercy; it was a deliberate, mocking act.

sukuna had simply grown bored and wanted a new target.

with a sinister laugh, he threw megumi to the ground like a discarded rag doll before turning his attention to nobara, his lips curling into a gleeful sneer, his red eyes narrowing dangerously as he advanced towards her.

"why are you looking at me like that?" asked nobara, and while it might have sounded like she was being fierce and angry, megumi could sense the underlying fear in her voice.

"famous last words," sukuna teased, and megumi could have sworn he'd seen the tattoos on his body move in excitement.

but before anyone could say or do anything, sukuna's ears had wiggled, almost like demon dog's when he spotted satoru's expensive dog treats.

then, his head spun to glance at the door, which was now opened to make room for you, panting and wide-eyed, one hand holding onto the knob, the other closed around the spare key yuji had given you the night before.

your gaze swept over the chaotic scene: the dishevelled nobara, the bruised and gasping megumi on the ground, and sukuna's imposing form towering over them. the blood drained from your face as you locked eyes with the demon, his sinister grin widening like a predator spotting new prey.

"finally!" sukuna hissed, his voice dripping with venomous delight. his head tilted unnaturally, the extra eyes on his face narrowing with malevolent excitement. "the stupid chatterbox is here!"

"lock the door!" nobara ordered you as sukuna sprinted in your direction.

you slammed the door shut behind you with a resounding bang, shoving the key into the lock with practiced precision, and just as sukuna's body crashed against it with a deafening thud, you deftly sidestepped to avoid the impact, letting out a sigh of relief at how he had narrowly missed you.

with a swift twist of the key, the lock clicked into place just in time, and you tossed the key at nobara with wide eyes.

sukuna let out a loud howl of frustration. "you haven't even been here a minute and you are already such a NUISANCE!"

"i didn't even do anything — woah!"

megumi had speedily scrambled to his wobbly feet to pull you away from the danger that was sukuna by your shoulders. your back had met the wall harshly, making you let out a gasp of something in between pain and stupor, brows furrowed at his eerily cold expression.

it seemed that you were not aware of just how much wreckage sukuna could cause with one less person.

"where were you?" megumi asked, as sukuna made an attempt to rip the doorknob off; nobara had reached up and pulled his hair so he was stumbling backwards away from the door.

"the library —"

"— for that long?"

the crease between your brows had started to deepen as you blinked up at him.

"i never said i'd make it on time," you responded, as he stepped back and looked over his shoulder to see if nobara was in any danger; she had everything handled. "i told you i'd be late," you added, eyes widening as you pushed past him to help nobara with sukuna, but megumi had let out a pained grunt, making you stop in your tracks and eye him carefully. "are you okay?"

"fine," he said, failing to hide his limp.

you looked between nobara, sukuna, megumi, and the rest of the mess around the room, blinking confusedly.

"all of this happened 'cause i was gone for a bit?" you marvelled, shocked.

"can barely survive with three of us," nobara huffed over sukuna's loud threats, throwing the key that sukuna had been actively trying to retrieve over to megumi, who caught it with ease. "he nearly escaped six times with just megumi and i! shit, help me!"

you sprung into action, throwing your school bag aside to pull sukuna away from nobara.

"why is he shirtless again?" you said, squeaking when he shoved you away, stumbling into megumi by accident.

"how dare you touch me with your female fingers —"

"okay i'm sorry oh my god!" you cried, hands going up to shield your face from his onslaught of punches, but this action had done nothing to hide the level of pain that had shot up every area he targeted. "ow — stop!"

the room descended into more chaos as sukuna launched into a furious assault. his movements were wild yet calculated, his strikes unrelenting as he aimed to incapacitate everyone in the room.

he had decided to lunged at you first, his nails raking through the air as you ducked just in time, tripping backwards into megumi once again, but this time, megumi had instinctively shoved you aside to take sukuna's punch directly. he had stumbled as a result, but remained upright, apparently determined to shield you and nobara from further harm.

nobara, meanwhile, had grabbed the nearest object — a chair, for the sharpest objects had been wisely taken out of the room for everyone's safety — and swung it with all her strength at sukuna's back. the impact had barely fazed him, but it gave you just enough time to grab a textbook from your bag and hurl it at his head; the book smacked him squarely in the face, and he growled, red eyes glowing with rage.

"really, woman?" sukuna snarled, wiping his face with yuji's arm. "a book?"

he picked it up and tore it in front of your eyes, grinning grimly at your expression.

the book was a hardback.

"hey, kento lent that to me!" you complained angrily, before quickly scrambling out of reach as he advanced again, reminding yourself that you were talking to a demon.

nobara tackled him from the side, trying to pin his arms, but he effortlessly shrugged her off, sending her crashing into the desk.

megumi, visibly struggling, grabbed a metal ruler and jabbed it at sukuna's ribs, drawing a rare wince of discomfort.

"get the rope!" he barked at you, and you immediately darted to the corner of the room, pulling out the frayed cord you'd used before to subdue yuji when he'd started acting erratically.

the three of you worked in frantic synchronisation, trying to dodge sukuna's attacks and pull the rope taut around him whenever an opening appeared. nobara distracted him by tossing books and binders from your bag in his path, while you and megumi spent the time looping the rope around his torso.

sukuna's strength had been overwhelming, but each loop of the rope restricted his movements a little more, and you had managed to tie a final knot with shaking hands, backing away as he thrashed against his bindings.

for a moment, silence fell, save for sukuna's heavy breathing and the sound of everyone else gasping for air. then, with a sinister smirk, he chuckled darkly, the sound sending shivers down your spine.

"you think this will hold me?"

"let's hope so," megumi muttered, leaning against the wall, his ankle burning, "because i'm out of ideas."

in the brief moments the three of you used to catch your breath, the respite proved to be tragically short-lived...

sukuna, his muscles rippling with unrestrained malice, had managed to tear through the ropes with almost insulting ease. the frayed ends of the cord fell to the ground as he stood there, grinning like a wolf savouring its cornered prey, rolling his shoulders as though loosening the tension in his body.

"since you're all so determined to waste my time," he sneered, his voice dripping with cruel amusement, "why don't we take a little trip down memory lane? after all, it's only fitting to reminisce before you all meet your end." his voice lowered into a chilling purr. "let's relive our first encounter, shall we?"

"what does that mean?" you began slowly.

he did not clarify...

and with that, sukuna's movements became terrifyingly calculated.

in a matter of minutes, he recreated the chaotic tableau from the day he had first terrorised your group: you found yourself yanked by the arm and hoisted up onto the curtain rail, your body dangling precariously as the flimsy structure groaned under your weight. nobara was shoved to the ground, her hair a wild, tangled mess as she clutched her arm, a fresh scrape bleeding through her torn sleeve. and megumi, breathing heavily with one hand braced on the wall, was forced to limp to the side, his injured ankle trembling under the strain.

sukuna stood amidst the wreckage, laughing with unrestrained glee at his handiwork, savouring the helplessness etched into each of your faces.

right, he thought to himself, watching the room and remembering the exact position he'd been in several months ago in february. this is what he meant...

his eyed had met sukuna's, and the demon's patience wore thin.

"where's the key?" he demanded, his tone sharp and unforgiving.

megumi felt for it in his pocket of his pants, but defiantly refused to give it up, his silence very obviously fuelling sukuna's frustration. with a growl of annoyance, the demon's lips curled into a sinister grin, and he made a split-second decision.

if words wouldn't pry the information from megumi, brute force would suffice, apparently, for he marched to the door and, with a single powerful strike, shattered the doorknob entirely.

megumi knew it was too late, and so did you, for he heard you groan from the ceiling.

"oh my god..."

the door had creaked open, but before sukuna could take a triumphant step into freedom, he stopped short.

his confidence wavered for the first time as his gaze met the person standing in the doorway.

it wasn't choso, as it had been during everyone's first encounter...

it was satoru.

megumi had never been so pleased to see the tall man, not that he'd ever tell him that.

he looked amused, his own grin widening as sukuna's faltered, and for a moment, the room held its collective breath.

and then he spoke:

"what, you're a gangster now, yuji?"

sukuna's expression twisted in disdain the instant satoru referred to him as yuji.

his lip curled, baring teeth in a snarl as he raised a fist, ready to strike, but before the blow could connect, satoru had moved with lightning speed, effortlessly grabbing sukuna's wrist and twisting his arm behind his back in one fluid motion. you could barely register what was going on from where you were hung, viewing the world from an upside down lens, but you caught how satoru, with a well-placed foot, swept sukuna's legs from under, sending him crashing to the floor with a resounding thud that made the entire room tremble.

"heh, that's sick! — i got your text, y/n," he grinned as he ignored sukuna's furious growl beneath him and straightened up, brushing imaginary dust from his sleeve with an air of exaggerated nonchalance.

his attention turned to nobara.

and a laugh erupted from him, loud and unrestrained, as his eyes took in her disheveled state.

"but i guess i'm a little late," he declared with delighted amusement, eyes sparkling as nobara swatted her wild hair in annoyance, "i've never seen you this ugly."

he helped her up despite his teasing, her eyes widening as she glanced at sukuna, who was speeding towards the open door.

"the door!" she yelled, but satoru's long legs were proven to be convenient, slamming the door shut before he grabbed sukuna by the shoulder and forced him backwards.

"gonna have to do an exorcism," he explained all the while, pulling out a small, plain, and black book from the wide pocket of his large jacket.

at that, sukuna's roar filled the room, a feral, deafening sound that reverberated through the walls like thunder.

"AN EXORCISM?" he laughed, his back against the lower wall. it seemed that the mesh of yuji's and sukuna's strength was no match for satoru's adult strength, which made sense, as sukuna did not have full control over yuji as of now. you thanked the lord silently. "I'D LIKE TO SEE YOU TRY!"

yet satoru moved through it as if his bellows were the soothing hum of a lullaby, steps measured and unhurried; his eyes, sharp with amusement and calm confidence, flicked to you, still dangling precariously from the curtain rod like a forgotten puppet.

he looked even more like an idiot to you upside-down.

but you would tell him that after you got his help.

with an effortless grace that betrayed his strength, he reached up and steadied you, his hands firm but careful as he eased you down.

"upsie daisy!" he said, as the world spun right-side up again the second your feet had touched the floor.

you slumped against the wall with exhaustion, the blood that had rushed to your head moving back down again.

but you could not rest there for long, for satoru had swiftly ushered everyone out of the room with a wave of his hand. nobara had stormed ahead, muttering about how this should have been handled earlier, while you followed, glancing nervously over your shoulder.

was it safe for satoru to be left alone with the demon, who was now eyeing nobara as she began closing the distance between herself and the door?

megumi had lagged behind, wincing with every step, which did not go amiss by satoru, who tilted his head slightly to meet his eye.

"i'll drive you to shoko's, yeah?" he asked, his tone gentler but still carrying a teasing lilt.

but megumi shook his head firmly, refusing the offer as he bit the inside of his cheek.

"i'm fine," he said, and that was how the three of you found yourselves lingering outside yuji's door, leaning against the wall as tension hung heavy in the air.

from within, the sounds of sukuna's fury erupted.

a guttural roar rattled the walls, followed by a sinister, bone-chilling laugh that sent a shiver down your spine. there were loud thuds and crashes as if furniture was being flung across the room, and knowing sukuna, there was absolutely a chance that that was exactly what had been going on behind the door, each sound punctuated by the sharp crack of splintering wood.

amidst the chaos, sukuna's mocking snarls could be heard over satoru's carefree chuckles, his taunting voice carrying effortlessly through the door.

"that all you got?" satoru teased, his words dripping with amused arrogance. "i was expecting more — hah! nearly got me there! — the way she described you."

another earth-shaking bang followed, sukuna roaring in frustration while satoru continued to laugh, as calm and amused as if he were playing a game instead of exorcising a feral demon.

the three of you exchanged concerned looks with one another.

"he's gonna get himself killed, teasing sukuna like that," nobara muttered, leaning against the wall opposite the door in the dark hallway.

"he's survived worse," you responded, moving your head away from the door with a flinch at the sudden bang that had followed.

nobara raised a brow. "like?"

"toji —"

"watch it," megumi growled from below without missing a beat; he had been sitting against the wall, a hand on his injured ankle.

the three of you waited in silence, the sounds of sukuna's threats, satoru's chuckles, and every other bang and crash that followed filling the space like white noise.

you glanced down at your friend's ankle, lips pursed.

"is it sprained?" you asked carefully.

he didn't look up when he replied.

"don't know," he shrugged, his tone clipped. "it's fine."

there was a short pause.

bang!

BANG!

megumi scowled. "how come you were late?"

the weight of megumi's question settled heavily in your chest, sharp and pointed, like a blade that hadn't quite drawn blood but hovered threateningly close.

he wasn't being harsh — not exactly — but there was something probing about his tone, and the way his eyes flickered to yours at your silence, dark and expectant, made it feel more like an inquiry than casual conversation.

you couldn't blame him.

sukuna's near-escape had been catastrophic enough, and now megumi was injured because you hadn't been there on time. still, the timing of the question prickled at you, as though he were peeling back layers you hadn't offered to reveal, and for a fleeting moment, a sense of guilt tangled with unease tightened in your throat.

"the bus was delayed," you answered honestly, "so i texted satoru."

the way megumi's glance had intensified was almost comical. "you thought he'd come on time?" he asked.

"no, but he was better than anyone else," you said, pressing your ear to the door again and remaining unsurprised when sukuna had let out an excited laugh.

"if maki didn't have wushu practice right now, we could've called her," said nobara, who was now standing by the hallway mirror and flattening down her hair to make it appear less dishevelled. "she'd give sukuna a good run for his money."

"you should visit shoko," you suggested, looking down at megumi with raised brows. your ear was still pressed against the door, but it was eerily silent now. you frowned. "she can patch you up," you added wisely.

megumi shook his head. "she'll also ask questions."

he had a good point.

the silence behind the door stretched, unnervingly still. you could hear the occasional creak of floorboards, but no sounds of sukuna's chaotic laughter or the clash of any furniture that had been so familiar only moments ago.

it was almost as if the battle behind the wall separating you from him and satoru had never happened, leaving behind a heavy stillness that made your skin crawl.

frowning, you glanced at the others, noticing they were all waiting with bated breath for some sign from the other side, but nothing came...

not a peep, not a whisper, just that oppressive quiet.

suddenly, the door had swung open, and the faintest scuffling noise echoed in the hallway. you had instinctively taken a step back, eyes widening as satoru reappeared, a half-conscious yuji draped over his shoulder like a ragdoll, his limbs limp and face pale. the sight alone was enough to send a wave of unease through you: you hadn't realized how much you'd been holding your breath until now.

"all right, everyone, move it," satoru called out, his voice as casual as ever. "car's outside and— stop looking so worried! ijichi's not here! c'mon now."

his tone brooked no argument, and you all instinctively began to shuffle towards the exit.

nobara, ever the sceptic, gave a sharp look at the limp form of yuji. "why's he coming with us? can't he just stay in his room and sleep it off?"

satoru's expression was serious for a fraction of a second before his usual smirk returned. "just in case sukuna decides to pop back in for round two," he replied, his words matter-of-fact but laced with an edge that made it clear the situation was far from over.

he pulled out his car keys and clicked it with a smile. "better safe than sorry."

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

"you're basically saying i should die."

"i never said that."

"but you're implying it."

"how?"

"making me sit next to him."

the car hummed softly as satoru drove you all through the quiet streets, one hand lazily resting on the steering wheel, the other tapping rhythmically against the window frame. nobara sat beside him in the front passenger seat, her elbow propped up against the door, head tilted towards the window as she basked in her victory of claiming shotgun without competition from yuji, who laid unconscious in the backseat, slumped against you, his head resting heavily on your shoulder as his soft snores filled the cramped space.

sandwiched between him and megumi, you shifted slightly, careful not to wake him while still trying to find a comfortable position for yourself, but it was difficult, knowing that there was a possibility that sukuna could open his eyes at any moment and lunge for your throat.

you were, after all, the one he hated most.

on your other side, megumi sat stiffly, staring out of his own window with a distant expression. the occasional glances he'd cast towards you and yuji  were starting to irritate you: if the way his brows would furrow slightly whenever yuji shifted in his sleep meant anything, then he should have swapped seats with you the second satoru placed yuji on the seat behind nobara.

as your argument with megumi ebbed and flowed, each sharp remark from him met with an equally cutting retort from you, nobara, blissfully detached from the chaos behind her, busied herself with exploring the various compartments in satoru's car. she gleefully unearthed a collection of canned sodas, neatly stored candies, and small bottles of fresh water, shooting the man driving beside her a dirty look at how well organised everything was.

"impressed?" he grinned, a dimple on his right cheek.

"don't get ahead of yourself," she sniffed, annoyed at the way he shrugged, looking pleased with himself.

"stop yelling at me," you had been saying from the back, eyes narrowed at megumi's cold expression, "'cause you're gonna wake him up! and then he's gonna come for me first! what then, huh? you're just gonna sit there and let that happen?"

megumi eyed the canned sodas and shot you a deadpanned look.

"you've got it handled," he said, and at your confused, furrowed brows, he elaborated. "i'll help you out."

he undid his seatbelt and leaned over you, extending an arm in between satoru and nobara to grab a water bottle and retreat, presenting it to you with a bland face.

your gaze hardened.

he felt the need to continue.

"you can drown him with your mermaid powers—"

"i know what you meant!" you snapped, angrily smacking the water bottle out of his hand.

"he's not waking up for hours, y/n," satoru called out loudly, shooting you a glance before keeping his eyes on the road. "stop worrying."

"easy for you to say," you shot back, pinching megumi's thigh as hard as you possibly could. he hissed and peeled your fingers off. "you're not sitting next to him!" your eyes widened suddenly. "wait... what if after you've dropped us all off, he comes back and strangles you from behind?"

satoru laughed at that.

"careful," he chortled, "it might sound like you're worried about me."

"only 'cause if he gets you, he's coming for me next," you scowled, brows furrowed.

the man driving the car met your eyes through the wide mirror. he hadn't put his glasses back on yet, so you could see every bit of amusement dancing around his blue irises.

"don't concern yourself with that. i got it handled," he answered at last, and despite his carefree tone, you still found yourself falling into a pit of worry, head first. "so! you four have no idea who ryomen sukuna is?"

"we know who he is," said nobara, and she maintained a dramatic pause before continuing. "a demon."

satoru shook his head. "that's not what i meant."

the girl in the passenger seat shot him an exasperated glance.

"look him up," satoru added, offering no other thoughts or help except that.

nobara, alert in the front seat, began scrolling through her phone with a determined focus following satoru's suggestion. for a moment, it seemed that nothing had come up, and that satoru was simply messing with the rest of you for fun.

but it was her gasp that made both you and megumi sit up straighter in alert.

"what?" megumi demanded, watching as you leaned forwards to push your front through the gap between satoru and nobara, and then raising your brows in realisation when yuji dropped onto your seat in your absence.

you hurried back and lifted him up again, letting him rest on you with a frightened frown.

"what did you find?" you asked her urgently, your voice low as yuji shifted in his sleep.

"ryomen sukuna..." nobara read out, her brows knitted together as she read about his origins, "was a fearsome demon figure said to have terrorised villages during japan's heian period. known for his monstrous strength and sadistic tendencies, sukuna was infamous for his brutal acts of violence, particularly against women and children. eyewitness accounts described him as a towering figure with crimson eyes, tattoos that writhed across his body, and an insatiable hunger for destruction."

you gulped. "sounds just like him..."

an unsettling silence filled the car, thick and heavy like a fog. the only sound that reached your ears was the low, haunting whistle of the wind as it brushed against the moving vehicle.

"is that it?" said satoru, who sounded disappointed.

"no..." nobara muttered, before heeding the hand satoru had kept on the wheel that gestured at her to continue. "a particularly gruesome aspect of sukuna's legend revolves around his penchant for mutilating women and consuming children. these horrific acts were carried out with the aid of an accomplice: u— u— ura... uraume, a mysterious and cold figure who served as sukuna's cook. stories claim that uraume prepared the remains of sukuna's victims into meals, feeding the demon's appetite for chaos and cementing their role in his legacy of terror."

"wait," you began, brows contorted in fear. it didn't help that every snore yuji let out triggered the memory of sukuna's roar in your mind. "that's the name he used when we first used the ouija board."

"keep going," megumi added icily.

"while some dismiss these accounts as exaggerated folklore, others believe that sukuna was not merely a tale to scare children, but a real and malevolent force that thrived on fear and destruction, leaving a legacy that endures in whispered myths to this day... what the fuck?"

nobara's hands trembled slightly as she lowered the phone, her expression an unsettling mix of irritation and unease. she glanced at satoru, her brows furrowed in a scowl.

"you really had to make me look that up, didn't you?" she snapped, though her voice was tinged with a nervous edge. despite her tough facade, it was clear the vivid descriptions had unsettled her.

you couldn't blame her. only a psycho would he unfazed with what you had just heard.

but satoru only chuckled lightly, one hand still on the wheel.

"oh, come on. you're the ones who decided to play with a ouija board," he said with a lopsided grin. "i'm just saying, if you're going to mess around with stuff like that, at least don't act surprised when you wake up a demon older than the concept of personal hygiene." he gestured vaguely, his tone only half-serious. "rule number one: don't poke the supernatural bear. rule number two: if you do poke it, don't be surprised when it growls."

"this one doesn't growl," you shivered, feeling uneasy. "it roars."

"everyone else gets something less terrifying once, maybe twice," nobara groaned, tucking the strands of her short hair behind her ear. "but the one time we mess around with the board, we end up summoning ryomen sukuna — professional cannibal!"

"eh, not surprising," satoru shrugged, looking way too unbothered with how terrified everyone else seemed in the car. "what? the east asian population in this town is large, specifically japanese people. you don't think that didn't have something to do with the fact that you summoned a demon that originated from japan of all places? even your high school used to specialise in jujutsu."

"why'd they stop?" you asked curiously.

"cultural diversity," satoru answered easily.

"hey," megumi had voiced firmly, his voice cutting across the tense conversation.

satoru's eyes had flitted to his through the mirror, brow raised expectantly.

"you okay, megumi?"

as they continued to converse, you glanced down at yuji and listened to the soft breaths he let out, shuffling uncomfortably. your lips in a straight line, you brushed his hair out of his eyes in disgust. if the fear of sukuna being behind those closed lids hadn't been looming over you, you would not have put up such a fuss: yuji was a peaceful sleeper.

"i don't want you to tell my mom about this," said megumi, his brows knitted together in annoyed certainty.

satoru hummed, looking all too pleased with himself. "you asking me for a favour?" he responded, sounding both smug and curious at the same time.

there was a slight pause, the sounds of yuji's quiet snores and the movement of vehicles outside of the one you had been sitting in filled the space.

"yes," said megumi, and when you turned to glance at him, you found that he looked quite serious (more so than usual).

satoru's smile stretched wider, his eyes sparkling with amusement as he leaned back in his seat.

"a special request from my precious student?" he teased, his voice dripping with playful mockery. at megumi's scowl, satoru's grin only grew, his usual confidence turning into something almost mischievous, as if he'd just caught megumi in a rare, vulnerable moment, but there was a glint in his eyes that suggested a certain pride in knowing that megumi had some form of trust in him — albeit reluctantly. "consider it done! my lips are sealed. you're gonna have to come up with a story for that ankle though."

nobara sat up as satoru had begun entering her neighbourhood.

"ugh, my mom too," she said, sounding desperate. "she probably wouldn't believe you anyway, but she'd find a way to try and get 'compensation' for my non-existent 'trauma' or something... you know how she is..."

you did know how nobara's mom was: a nice woman, who cared deeply about her daughters, but had a hunger for money that even toji could not compete with.

and satoru knew that like no one else...

"yeah, you've got nothing to worry about, i'm not going anywhere near that woman," he grumbled, before shooting the girl sitting next to him with a glance that was meant to be apologetic, but looked like anything but. "no offence, nobara."

"none taken," she sighed, for all of you knew how her mother would shamelessly flirt with the white-haired male for his money. it was both amusing and disgusting to watch (satoru found it horrifying, even if he did seem flattered the first time around).

then, his eyes flicked to you in the rearview mirror, catching your gaze with a certain glint of amusement. he studied you for a moment, his expression unreadable, before his lips curled into a smirk and he shifted in his seat, clearly enjoying the unease he was about to stir like the man-child he was.

"you're not gonna ask me to keep it from m/n?"

you stared at him, deadpanned. "she literally would not care."

"fair point," he nodded. "what about your dad?"

"the signal in antarctica is bad," you responded easily. "and also, don't stress that man out. he already has to deal with angry polar bears."

there was a challenge in satoru's gaze, as if he found amusement in seeing how you'd react, how you'd handle the weight of being almost blackmailed by him.

"didn't know you were such a snitch," you commented sourly. "well... snitches get stitches."

"you're gonna need stitches with that mark on your forehead," said satoru, and your hand had instinctively reached up to rub at your head where sukuna had hit you.

"it's fine 'cause megumi's gonna snitch me up."

"no i won't."

"what the hell, porcupine?"

"let me get this straight," satoru interrupted, preventing another round of arguments between you and the grumpy boy sitting next to you, "you kids have been dealing with ryomen sukuna for an entire year and didn't think to tell anyone?"

"how was that conversation meant to go?" said nobara, before her voice raised an octave as she continued. "'hey, mrs itadori! we need help 'cause your son gets possessed by an ancient demon every month on the twenty-ninth and has the literal potential to kill anything in its vicinity!' i mean, who would believe us?"

satoru gawked. "me!"

"yeah..." she said, looking exhausted, "that's not a good thing..."

satoru continued as though he hadn't heard her. "you guys messed around with a ouija board, but i'm the reckless one."

"i have a headache," you groaned, rubbing your temple with a pained expression.

megumi glanced down at his injured ankle, wincing slightly as he flexed it before settling into a frown. his gaze shifted towards you, a scowl forming on his face as though silently reminding you that he had the worse end of this ordeal.

he shifted uncomfortably, clearly still irked about your late arrival and the chaos it had unleashed, not that he planned on voicing that at all.

"that's karma for all those people you lied to about evil entities," said megumi, watching as you sneered at him.

"that was different though!" you declared heatedly. it wasn't like those people from kindergarten would even remember that anyway.

satoru looked back at the both of you as he eased the car into a smooth stop outside nobara's house, a compact, modern two-story home with clean, angular lines and a white-and-grey facade. a narrow path of neatly arranged stone tiles led from the sidewalk to a red-painted front door, framed by simple black lanterns. potted plants flanked the entrance, adding a small touch of warmth to the otherwise minimalistic exterior, while a lone bicycle leaned against the side of the porch. it was nobara's, you silently noticed.

"why was that different?" satoru asked curiously.

you had pulled megumi's ear for his response:

"sukuna hates her."

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

megumi found himself seated before his mother in the living room, her figure covering the television behind her, arms folded over her chest.

"you injured your ankle," she began, kind eyes narrowed in suspicion, "by being slammed into during football?"

megumi nodded.

you weren't around, so it would be easier to keep up the act without worrying about pinching your side and silencing you when your lies went too far.

she did not look convinced; megumi remained unsurprised at that. she had always been harder to fool than his father, and called it a sixth sense that, according to her, all mothers had.

"megumi," she sighed, brows contorted in concern. it made him feel bad for lying, but also reminded himself of the fact that she'd be overwhelmed in fit of worry if she ever knew the true reason his ankle had ended up swollen. "this is the, what, third time this has happened now? was it by... what's his name...? todo? was it him?"

it obviously wasn't, but megumi believed that to be a good excuse to go with.

he nodded again; she sighed again.

"the first and second time, i can understand, accidents happen," she said, replacing the bag of peas that she'd kept on megumi's ankle (perched on the coffee table) with another frozen set. the first had become warm now. "but a third time? i'm starting to think he has it out for you."

that wouldn't be against the truth at all, megumi mentally decided to himself with furrowed brows.

he watched as she handled the bag of warm peas with a pout pulling at her lips. it had been times like these that he wished she wasn't so concerned all the time, for it would make lying a whole lot easier.

"can i watch tv now?" he asked, sounding a little more dismissive than he initially intended.

she raised her brows at him.

"you're making a face, megumi," she responded, easily avoiding the question.

megumi had made a move to frown, but found that he had already been doing it.

he silently cursed himself.

"i'm not," he mumbled, averting his gaze and trying to get a good glance at the ice hockey game playing behind her. she only moved her head where his eyes went, pressing.

"you are," she said, smiling. "if y/n was here, she'd agree. ah, where is she anyway? i feel like it's been years since i've seen you two in the same room."

"friday —"

"aside from friday dinners," she cut across him with a raised brow.

without meaning to, he found his face mindlessly deepening his default scowl. he immediately softened his expression, but it had been too late, she'd already spotted it.

"there it is!" she pointed at him, accusatory. "what's got my son in a mood?"

megumi tried his hardest to maintain a neutral expression, but it proved to be more difficult than he expected.

her eyes never did not leave his face as she crossed the short distance between them, watching as he tensed immediately, the scowl slipping away into something more guarded, more composed, as though retreating behind an invisible wall of indifference would make her retreat too.

but she didn't.

instead, she crouched beside him, her hand resting gently on his knee, warm even through the fabric of his jeans. her touch was soft but unrelenting, and the concern in her gaze felt heavier now.

"i'm always like this," he said quietly, she had to lean closer to hear him.

"you've lived under my roof for sixteen years," she responded, brushing his hair out of his eyes. he shook her hand off with an exasperated exhale. "i think i'd know when you're acting different... except for that time that you stole a rabbit even though you know i'm allergic —"

"— mom —" he grumbled.

"— and in my defence, i trusted my son," she continued as though she hadn't heard him, her smile still present. "why are you grumpy?"

"i'm not —"

"do you want me to call your dad?"

he scowled, and this time, he did not try to hide it, for the threat was enough to get him talking. it wasn't the fear of toji being called on him, it was the fact that he did not want to have a heart-to-heart with that man out of anyone.

he'd even prefer satoru to him when it came down to therapy sessions.

his mom pursed her lips at him, her expression grave. "did y/n frame you for disturbing mrs daphne's tea party again?"

"no," said megumi, cringing at the memory. he had still yet to get you back for that — the old ladies at the tea party had slandered his name for things he hadn't even thought of doing. "it's not that."

"but it's something to do with her, isn't it?" she pressed with a gentle smile. and at the way he peered back at her, she went on to explain herself. "you made that cute angry face when i asked where she's been."

"how can someone be cute and angry?"

"you'll know when you have kids of your own —"

"mom."

"i'm only joking, megumi," she said, as she took her hand off his knee and placed it beneath her chin, waiting for him to answer her.

he looked away, jaw clenched as he stared at the far corner of the room, anywhere but at her face, hoping she wouldn't wait for his answer, but he knew her... he knew that she would do exactly that.

megumi let out a slow, frustrated breath, the weight of her patient, unwavering gaze pressing down on him like a vice. he clenched his fists for a moment, the tension winding tight in his shoulders before he felt it unravel in resignation. there was no escaping her persistence — not when she had already pieced together more than he was willing to admit. she would wait him out, as always, and the battle of wills would inevitably end with him surrendering, he could tell.

reluctantly, he eased the tight set of his jaw and prepared to give in, knowing there was no point in dragging it out any longer:

"we're both really busy," he admitted, abashed. he was also simultaneously trying to find a way to explain his problem without revealing too much about how your absence had indirectly caused such trouble with sukuna. "i see yuji and nobara in classes. or in between classes. but not — stop staring at me — not y/n."

she hummed. "she lives right across from us," she reminded him thoughtfully. "why don't you go over there now?"

"don't want to right now," he shrugged, and even though, to an outsider, it would sound like he didn't want to see you out of spite, he knew that his mom knew what he meant: you'd just seen each other, both of you had still got mountains of homework to complete. "i'd get distracted. we still have a lot of school work to complete. she has to rehearse her lines for her next play."

he did not mention how you were spending more time with an outsider nowadays than with him. after all, that wasn't what bothered him that much.

it was more about the fact that said person was supposedly interested in his sister, but was spotted with you every other day.

or, that was what megumi had kept replaying like a mantra in his head. he wasn't too sure whether he had successfully convinced himself yet.

"a little time apart doesn't mean anything, megumi," his mom laughed, her voice soothing as he peered back at her expectantly. perhaps her advice was necessary. perhaps he ought to listen. "that time she showed me your timetables at the beginning of the school year, i wasn't worried in the slightest."

megumi remained silent as she went on, for he was starting to really pay attention to her.

"you guys have — what was it? — english together?"

"math," he corrected, trying not to sound bitter, but it must have seeped into his voice because she chuckled as she went on.

"math," she nodded, smiling again. "only math, right? ... you two have remained friends, best friends — don't make that face, you silly boy, you know it's true — you two have been best friends since you were in kindergarten! not many people can say the same, you know? your friendship won't end just because you spend less time in class together."

he knew that, he had concluded to himself. he knew that that wasn't his concern.

how could he figure out what he was so annoyed about if he was unable to fully communicate the whole truth with sukuna, your lateness, etc?

he'd have to tiptoe around the topic.

"what's on your mind?" she asked, and he cursed himself for making his discomfort so obvious.

"you're saying everything would still be the same," he started slowly, unsure whether he'd regret where he was going with this if he completed his sentence, "even if we're friends with other people."

his mother's gaze softened, but her expression remained unreadable, the kind of calm that always left him unsure whether he'd stepped too far or not far enough.

she studied him quietly, her eyes searching his face as though piecing together a puzzle only she could see. the silence stretched just long enough to make him shift uncomfortably, his fingers tapping restlessly against the arm of the couch.

before finally...

she nodded, a slow, thoughtful motion, her lips pressing together in a way that felt both understanding and reserved.

"exactly," she said, her eyes twinkling with excitement. "she makes friends with everyone. she's friends with the... dark-haired child... the one with the side bangs —"

"the emo kid," said megumi, blunt. "malakai."

"megumi," she said firmly, her tone scolding but not unkind. "but yes, him. and don't you go around calling him that."

she smiled at him then, her eyes crinkling warmly at the corners as she leaned back into the couch. her relaxed posture made him feel slightly less on edge, though a flicker of grumpiness still lingered within him, but it was tame, nothing like it had been earlier back at yuji's.

megumi noticed the gentle rise and fall of her shoulders as she breathed, the way her face always seemed to soften when she looked at him. the familiar scent of her jasmine tea filled the space between them, calming in a way that made him feel understood even when words failed.

"smile, megumi," she teased, her voice light and coaxing, but he remained stubbornly impassive, his lips refusing to budge.

she sighed playfully, shaking her head before leaning forwards again, her fingers curling into a mischievous grin.

with another soft chuckle, she placed her pointer fingers on each corner of his mouth, gently tugging his cheeks upwards.

"there you go," she murmured, her grin matching the exaggerated one she had crafted on his face. "see? it's not so bad, you should do it more often!"

he let out a resigned sigh, his eyes half-lidded, but beneath his feigned annoyance, a trace of warmth began to settle in his chest.

her eyes had grown distant, gazing at something behind him. it was when she'd removed her fingers from his face, did he know what — or rather, who — she'd been staring at.

"toji, why are you just standing there?" she asked, her tone playful.

megumi didn't need to turn his head to know his father was simply lingering. when it came to his mother, there was a rare stillness in his posture — a quiet reverence — as if he were gazing at a masterpiece, a painting too precious to touch.

"he doesn't know how to smile because of you," she jokingly accused him, standing up, "so you need to smile too!"

toji averted his gaze, silently unwilling.

she shook her head at him, raising her arms to present her pointer fingers.

"i'll make you smile," she warned him.

"run, dad," megumi grumpily muttered from where he was seated on the couch.

the older man turned away with furrowed brows.

"don't gotta tell me twice," megumi heard him grumble, followed by his mother's rhythmic laughter.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

bonus scene:

there were many things mrs fushiguro had seen in the short time she'd been married to toji for.

she'd seen him yell (never at her), she'd seen him fight (never with her), and she'd seen him curse (never to her).

but she had never seen him in such a fit of rage, that he could only fold his muscly arms over his chest and resort to a quiet stillness, choosing tense tranquility over violence.

although, the way his jaw clenched had said otherwise.

she sat on the arm of the long couch as he stared down the lineup that started with a scowling suguru, a frowning satoru, a glaring megumi, and a blissfully unaware you.

honestly, she thought this was a bit much. you and megumi were barely even seven. so what if you had blindly followed the older two in believing that toji was cheating on her? you were kids. being influenced by older people was natural.

apologies were necessary, she understood that much, but lining each of you up with apology letters like you were part of some military?

that was a lot.

toji started off with the young man who had his hair in a dishevelled man-bun. dishevelled, for toji had shaken both him and his best friend till she had stepped in to stop him.

"go," her husband demanded.

suguru was halfway between rolling his eyes before he caught the sharp glare the buff man before him sent.

"i'm sorry for accusing you of cheating on your wife," he said, looking down at his lined sheet of paper with exhaustion. he then looked up and began improving. "and i also apologise on behalf of the people whose apology letters won't be any good —"

"dude," satoru interrupted, looking offended. the sight only made her smile, especially when her eyes moved down the line and you and megumi had been sporting the exact same expression, the three of you collectively staring at suguru in disgust. "the hell are you implying?"

"you apology letter is literally blank, satoru —"

"— i like to improv!"

"shut up!" toji snapped, taking everyone by surprise. "both o' you." he glanced at suguru with narrowed eyes. "whatever, you're done, monkey."

megumi's mom found herself watching with interest as suguru gritted his teeth. she still did not understand what the hatred for monkeys was about.

"you —" toji continued, glaring at satoru, who was scratching the back of his neck, looking confused. "you're next."

this would be interesting...

she watched as satoru cleared his throat with theatrical flair, holding up his paper as if preparing for a grand speech. he scanned the page, squinting at god-knows-what, seeing as she (and everyone else in the room) had been well aware that the paper was blank, before glancing at toji, whose glare grew sharper by the second.

and under the crushing weight of that look, satoru's bravado faltered. his fingers crumpled the paper into a ball with a slow, deliberate motion.

tossing it aside, he straightened up, forcing a grin as he placed one hand over his heart.

"toji fushiguro," he began with exaggerated sincerity, "i deeply regret the events of today, and i humbly offer my —"

"you little shit —" toji growled, his eyes narrowing further.

satoru's grin stiffened. "right. sorry. freestyling it is."

if his glasses had been taken off indoors, she would have been able to read his real thoughts through his eyes. instead, she was made to sit back and guess, watching the events play out before her like a sitcom.

it was unpredictable.

especially when it came to her husband and the godfather of their son.

"i'm... sorry."

toji was not happy with that:

"for?" he pressed, head tilted expectantly.

satoru shot him a disgusted look:

"the hell you mean 'for'? i apologised —"

toji turned to look back at his wife with a scary level of calmness.

"i'm holding myself back —" he told her through gritted teeth.

"okay, toji —" she began, trying to be the peacemaker but failing miserably.

satoru let out a loud groan, running a hand through his hair tiredly.

"fine," he said, exasperated. "i'm sorry... for accusing you of cheating on this gorgeous, beautiful, stunning, breathtaking, ethereal —"

toji instinctively stepped forward. "you tryin' to take my wife?"

"no," satoru scowled, "i'm married —"

"he's not," suguru coughed.

satoru recoiled dramatically. "whose side are you even on?"

toji clenched his jaw, his patience wearing thin as satoru's antics grated on his nerves. his eyes had darkened with a sharp, warning glare, fists curling at his sides as if holding himself back from throwing a punch.

his wife watched as the tension radiated from him like heat, his broad frame stiffening as he muttered under his breath about what he'd do if satoru kept running his mouth.

"anyway, i'm sorry for accusing you of cheating on her... not that you could find anyone better," satoru continued, his left dimple becoming more prominent the longer he grinned. "she's gorgeous. she's amazing. you hit the jackpot with her —"

"erm... thank you, satoru?" she smiled, visibly and audibly confused. "i... don't know if i should take that as a compliment, or..?"

"it's a compliment!" satoru assured her, his grin toothy and bright. "from the first most handsome person in the world to the second prettiest in the world."

"what the—" toji began, looking disgusted. he grunted, looking down at his own son with a glare. "fine. megumi —"

megumi looked up at his dad with a scowl. his mom could only bite back a laugh at his expression, a carbon copy of the man she married.

"— i didn't do anything wrong," he snapped.

stubborn like him, too.

toji took a deep breath in, and everyone in the room glanced at megumi, expectant.

but megumi had seemed firm on his stance, stagnant, no chance of moving. you were staring at him like he'd grown two heads.

she should have seen this coming, to be fair. unlike everybody else, megumi had not been holding an apology letter to begin with.

"if you don't start apologising, now, boy," toji threatened, his fists clenched.

perhaps now was a good time to step in:

"toji, he's just a —"

"smart brat is what he is," he interrupted grumpily, glaring down at his son. "apologise."

megumi let out a long, exaggerated sigh, the weight of frustration pressing his small shoulders down as if the air itself had turned heavy. his dark eyes slid shut briefly, and when he opened them again, they were filled with a mix of irritation and reluctant obedience, a reflection of his father's unrelenting will.

the sigh wasn't just a breath, his mom noticed with an apologetic glance — it was the embodiment of every ounce of exasperation he felt, a drawn-out gesture that spoke louder than words, as though he were releasing the burden of dealing with his family's antics all at once.

"fine," he grumbled, taking her by surprise. it usually took a bit more probing before megumi was made to bend at anyone's will. "i'm sorry for following them around even though i didn't do anything wrong."

"YOU —"

"my turn!" you beamed excitedly.

"oh here we go," satoru mumbled under his breath, being shot a warning glance by the woman shifting on the arm of the couch, her brows furrowed.

toji regarded a glaring megumi with one irate look — one that read 'this isn't finished' — before glancing down at you, the glittery strap of one of your sandals left undone like the messy child you were.

where toji found it to be a headache, his wife found it cute. she'd always wanted a girl at some point in her life.

"okay, so!" you began, clearing your throat dramatically. your little fingers had clenched your apology letter hard enough to crease every part you touched.

you took a deep breath in, before noticing all the eyes that had been placed on you, and then began looking around anxiously, as though everyone was staring at something behind you instead.

"what's the delay?" toji grunted, impatient.

"everyone's keeping on — everyone's keeping on looking at me!" you said, fidgeting where you stood.

"it's 'keeps on'," megumi corrected you icily.

"you better shut your mouth," toji started on him, only pausing when his wife scolded him for toeing the line that determined what was too far and what was not.

"it's — it's fine!" you smiled, your baby cheeks looking soft enough to squish. she had to refrain from doing so. you were in the middle of your apology, after all. "i'm gonna just close my eyes!"

and so you did.

you closed your eyes, your hands still clutching the sheet you were meant to be reading from, before you realised your mistake.

"'m sorry for... er..." you hesitated, your brows furrowed with how tight you had closed your lids. "wait! where did my apolology letter go?"

"'apology'," megumi had corrected yet again.

satoru snorted. "open your eyes, genius — ow!"

suguru had kicked his foot.

"y/n, honey, open your eyes," mrs fushiguro told you politely.

"that's what i just sai— ow, suguru, cut it out!"

with a deep breath, you opened your eyes and glanced down.

realisation had dawned as you spotted the crumpled apology letter clenched tightly in your small hands. a sheepish laugh escaped your lips, soft and warm, as if even you couldn't believe your own antics.

toji groaned in growing impatience, rubbing his temple with an exaggerated sigh that only made the moment funnier to his wife, who had hid her smile behind her hand, trying to maintain decorum for your sake.

determined, you squared your shoulders and lifted your chin.

"i know what to do!" you declared brightly, clutching the letter with newfound resolve. "i'm just — i'm just gonna turn around 'cause no one will see me!"

without waiting for anyone's input, you spun on your heels to face the television, ready to deliver your heartfelt apology with dramatic flair and a focus all your own.

only to be submerged by a fit of giggles, turning around with a wide grin.

"what now?" toji snapped angrily.

"turning around — turning around is so funny!" you laughed, before choking on your own laughter at the grave expression on the older man's face. "okay, okay! calm down... angry man!"

you finally started on your apology.

only for it to go absolutely no where...

in other words (she hated to admit it) but the same reaction satoru had been scolded for earlier was the same one that was found to be right.

you were talking just for the sake of talking, the apology going no where...

"i'm sorry," you started, eyes drifting down your lined paper, "that i — that i listened to the two old mans next to — next to megumi fushigo right now. my mommy says to listen to older people! so — so i listened to older people! but, toji the angry man says that — that he will crush satoru and suguru like a ladybug! and even though my mommy says i like ladybugs, i don't want to keeping on being shouted to! so now i have to say sorry because i have to be safe from toji the angry man —"

"right, that's enough," toji growled, waving a hand at you.

it seemed that just like his wife, he did not seem to know what to make of this apology.

all he knew was that you talked way too much.

"her mouth moves before her brain does," he said, turning to his wife who sent him a sharp look, one that easily translated to 'be nice!'.

"my — my mommy says —"

suguru leaned closer to his best friend. "either she's a serial liar, or her mom's been lobotomised."

"can i leave now?" asked megumi, looking past his dad and at his mom for her approval.

but before she could respond, toji leaned forwards with a casual grin that didn't quite reach his eyes, cutting off her words before they could form, but there was a sharpness in his movement, like a blade waiting to strike.

"no," he said, his darting from you to satoru and back again. "no, i'm not satisfied yet. this bastard's still grinning —"

you turned to megumi with a frown. "what's a bastard?"

his mom stood up almost immediately, but megumi had already begun his explanation:

"when a man and his mistress —"

"megumi!" she interrupted, alert.

the two of you looked up at her, one of you wide-eyed, the other with narrowed ones. she hurriedly ushered her son away from you, glancing at toji, suguru, and satoru all the while.

"well this has been nice," she mumbled, trying to smile despite her slight irritation towards this entire ordeal, "and i appreciate the apologies, but toji, let's wrap this up now.

toji's eyes lit up with a glimmer of mischief, his grin spreading slowly as though a particularly devious idea had just taken root in his mind. his gaze flickered between satoru and you, and the sharp arch of his brow hinted at a plan already forming, a dangerous sort of amusement playing at the corners of his mouth as he leaned back slightly, the picture of a man who had just found the perfect way to make things even more chaotic — and far more entertaining — for his own amusement.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

the door had clicked shut behind him with an ominous finality, and satoru stared at it in horrified disbelief, hands pressed flat against the wooden surface as if sheer willpower could force it open again.

his shoulders sagged with defeat as your voice filled the small, stifling space, a rapid-fire stream of chatter that had no clear beginning or end. you were halfway through a story about some incident involving your dad, a rogue basketball, and uncle ogi's furious tirade, and satoru groaned quietly.

his fingers twitched at his temples as if rubbing them would make it stop. he glanced at you, half-distraught, half-bewildered, mouthing a silent help me to the empty room, realising there would be no escape.

"— and my mommy says we're just keeping on staying here!" you added at last.

but you weren't done; you tugged at the fabric of his jeans.

"wanna play i spy with my little eye?"

he banged on the door angrily.

"get me out of here!" he begged desperately, and when you had gone on a long tangent about why every single grey-haired person on the planet was a long lost relative of satoru's, satoru found himself nearly detaching the door knob.

"i will break this door down!" he threatened loudly.

but the only sounds that could be heard behind it were the calm chatter between the fushiguros, and the little fushiguro who had settled on sitting against the other side of the door to correct your english where necessary.

even suguru had left him behind (which he should have seen coming, ever since the kfc incident).

satoru would never accuse toji of cheating on his wife ever again.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

notes: i lowkey hate the way this chapter turned out lmao, so it'll probably undergo some editing, idk. i wrote it in a rush, specifically for my two talented artists. i hope you guys enjoyed it anyway! <3 i meshed a little plot AND filler so you get the best of both worlds! :)

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taglist (send an ask or comment to be added):

@1l-ynn @shaigimo @shuupiu @nappingnai @xbarrjallenx @reinaswrld @anintrovertedechoe @momoewn @polarbvnny @lailuv21 @cherriee-ee @hfuensiekabhsufnd @k0z3me @reocidal @jelly-fsh @anonymity-222 @blubearxy @jamypam @thelost-child @anotherwriternamedclara @ist0leurc0ffee @spookypeacesandwich @jvpit3rr @2ukika @zzn-li @biancaackerman

© tojiscrack (previously ack4rwoman)

i do not own any of the characters of jjk, i only own the character of y/n and her mother. the other characters belong to gege akutami.

if you enjoyed my writing, i’d really appreciate it if you tipped me — tumblr no longer has the tip function, so maybe here in my tip jar :)

[starryalpacasstuff]

Fire (1996): A Mostly Spoiler Free Pitch Because You Should Watch It Immediately

It's time for "An Indian QL bulldozed past my expectations and I am reeling in awe", Part Two!

A few days ago, @neuroticbookworm told me about Fire, an old lesbian Indian movie she'd been wanting to watch. Me being me, I promptly tracked it down and settled in to watch it.

Very loosely based on the 1942 short story Lihaaf, the movie follows Sita, a newly wed bride who is settling in with her in-laws, which is how she meets Radha, who is married to her husband's brother. Both in unhappy marriages, they find solace and company with each other, quickly falling in love. Length: 1 Hour 40 Minutes TWs: Homophobia, C-word mentioned once, some depictions of domestic violence Release: 1996

The is almost entirely in English, and while one generally expects Bollywood movies to be in Hinglish, it's definitely a conscious choice here, which does make me wonder if the movie was supposed to be promoted to a greater international audience. You can find it here on Youtube, most of the (very few) Hindi dialogues have hard subtitles. I think it's also available on Prime? It wasn't available in India though, which is odd, but I didn't bother investigating. Let me know if anyone can figure anything out about this!

Going into this movie, I expected a melodramatic, emotional movie with a bittersweet tone. I did not expect a biting, incredibly engaging movie with excellent satire, symbolism, discussions of chastity culture, and an incredibly sweet, beautifully written romance. And I was certainly not prepared for how incredibly horny this movie is??? Both in subtle tension and overt sex scenes. There's also partial nudity, which again, completely unexpected. If you're going taboo, go taboo all the way I suppose. It's also very well directed, and while I'm not nearly as good at identifying details like that as some of the people on here, I did pick up on some colour coding and interesting framing. It's just overall packed with little details that I think a lot of us would have a field day analysing.

Honestly, I could talk about the cultural nuances in this movie for hours. Contrary to my assumption about the reasoning behind making the movie fully in English, the movie seems to rely on the viewer's understanding of North Indian customs to deliver a lot of it's messages, particularly with its satire, more on that below. While I don't think it's necessary to enjoy the movie, it definitely does add some meat to the story. Then again, I'm a biased party, so it'll be hard to determine just how many messages may be lost to someone from outside of India without someone to compare notes with (this is me shamelessly trying to get you to watch the movie). Honestly, I'd be 100% down to write a more detailed, spoiler-including post that goes into the implicit nuances if people are interested.

There's two main selling points for the movie; the incredible way it shuts down purity and chastity ideology and the absolutely adorable relationship between Radha and Sita. The movie is set on ruthlessly tearing down and emphasizing the ridiculousness of purity culture. A lot of the messaging is indirect and uses metaphors, but there's also several explicit scenes addressing the issue. It's one of the main themes of the movie and I'm almost convinced the real reason it's titled 'Fire' is the sheer number of burns it dishes out on this subject. The romance portion of this movie is one of the thing's that completely defied my expectations. It wasn't sad and dramatic, it was heartfelt and silly and adorable. There's several scenes of the two subtly flirting, laughing together and just being lowkey in love. But that's not to say there's no emotional depth—they're also there for each other and are quite vulnerable with each other.

The movie used a lot of metaphors, but my favourites were the almost satirical representation of mythological stories. In a religion as diverse as Hinduism, every holiday has two dozen stories behind it and each story has two dozen versions, so it's to be expected that you'll find a number of problematic or otherwise kind of ridiculous stories in the mix. The stories were told completely seriously, but the context of the movie highlights their absurd facets in a truly brilliant way. I'm not going to give too much away, but I will say, it was a delight to watch the juxtaposition of the myths and the storyline of the movie, particularly it's ties to the purity culture discussion. You'll understand when you watch it. I'm not turning this into a Hindu mythology lesson (yet) but one interesting tidbit is that Radha and Sita are both names of mythological figures; namely the partners of two of the most worshipped avatars of the god Vishnu: Krishna and Rama respectively. And I was overjoyed to find that their names do have relevance to the metaphors in the story, particularly Sita's.

When the movie was first released, there were massive protests against it, I'm talking hundreds of people storming into theatres to destroy them and drive away audiences. I don't know what to say here beyond this, but what I will say is that I think Fire is an amazing movie that absolutely does not deserve to be lost to the sands of time. I hope you give it a shot, and if you do, tag me in any posts you make about it!

Tagging people who seemed interested in recs from my last post, let me know if you'd rather I not tag you!

@lurkingshan @impala124 @bengiyo @letgomaggie @winnysatang

@watertightvines @nutcasewithaknife @blorbingqls @twig-tea

@waitmyturtles @cryingatships @benkaben @usertoxicyaoi

@befuddledcinnamonroll @flyingrosebeetle

[girl-debord]

River's 13 Punk & Metal Albums of 2024

13. Paprika - Let's Kill Punk

As one of the more conventional hardcore albums on this list, Paprika's debut LP stands out by doubling down on everything I love about the genre. The bass is rough, rough, rough, and the vocals sound like they were recorded in a storm drain, giving the album an almost-live quality. The only thing it loses points for is being so short, but even that's in the spirit of hardcore.

Favorite track: Greasy Pig Disease

12. drive your plow over the bones of the dead - tragedy as catharsis

I know, I know. Yes, Gen X followers, it's an emoviolence album. If the high-pitched vocals & aversion to capitalization don't scare you off, I think you'll enjoy how this sound is pushing the powerviolence formula forward. It is possible to be sad & kick ass at the same time.

Favorite track: arrangement

11. Traumatizer - Traumatizer

This is a 12-minute/7-song hardcore debut that won me over almost instantly. The vocals remind me a bit of early Nausea, and the bass-forward breakdowns are scratching that NJ hardcore itch that I've had since Sick Shit broke up.

Favorite track: Outnumbered

10. Paysage D'Hiver - Die Berge

Paysage D'Hiver embodies that horseshoe theory approach to atmospheric black metal--when you make something noisy & lo-fi enough, it starts to sound ambient. To put it a different way, this album has more in common with a lot of my favorite dungeon synth releases than most conventional metal. It uses repetition to its advantage & really gets that bleak, wintry vibe across. That being said, how often do I have nearly two hours to dedicate to a single album? Maybe a girl with a longer commute would rank this one a little higher.

Favorite track: Transzendenz II

9. Thou - Umbilical

It's been way too long since we had a proper Thou album. Needless to say, I was stoked about this one. Umbilical is overall less sludgy, often speeding things up for more hardcore- and grunge-adjacent tracks, but it keeps the vocal style and metal guitar sounds that Thou is so known for. It doesn't feel as thematic or directional as most of their earlier releases, but it gets at the stuff I like without being similar enough to feel stagnant.

Favorite track: I Feel Nothing When You Cry

8. Poison Ruïn - Confrere

Poison Ruïn left themselves big shoes to fill with last year's Härvest, but that's one of my favorite albums of all time, so I'm trying to cut them some slack. The new sound they bring with Confrere is a little less focused on stenchore-nostalgic riffs and has more in common with old-school hardcore. It works really well on a few notable songs--like the title track--but the rest of the album feels a bit like filler (even the dungeon synth parts, which are still pretty strong). I think there's just not enough going on on this album to turn a few great songs into a great album--but damn, those great songs really are great.

Favorite track: Execute

7. Bootlicker - 1000 Yd. Stare

I somehow missed this album when it came out in May, so when I finally listened to it a couple weeks ago, I had to totally rearrange this list to fit it in. It's worth it--Bootlicker brings an unlikely combination of clunky d-beat production & oi-tinged vocals that ended up sticking with me more than I expected it to. The band also seems to have hit its stride in using the military/military-fetish theming to maximum caustically-ironic effect.

Favorite track: Mercy Dog

6. S.H.I.T. - For A Better World

Some of the best drumming from this year in the vehicle of an extremely short lo-fi hardcore record. It feels like a Discharge demo tape performed with a sneer and stimulants. I only wish it was longer, even just that last track could keep going for 10 minutes & this might be my #1 pick.

Favorite track: Imminent Destruction

5. Lagrimas - A Life of Destruction

I've been keeping up with Lagrimas for a few years and I'm excited to say that their first LP cashes in--and improves--on everything I love about their recorded material up to this point. The grind drum licks, the lacrimose emo guitars, the post-rock song structures--it's all here & turned up to 11. The Habak features are great, but the band really stands on its own now. If I had to pick something to complain about, it would be the extended dialogue sampled in the middle of the album, but even that contributes to the overall tone. More than anything, I'm really excited to see people my age doing something new with the crust punk genre.

Favorite track: Cultural Destruction.

4. Trhä - ∫um'ad∂ejja cavvaj

Damián Ojeda's project Trhä had crossed my path before with albums that combined black metal & dungeon synth with a mix of softer electronic sounds and danceable drum machine tracks. This album, on the other hand, is much more traditional, but I find myself drawn to it because of that--it seems to descend into a primordial era of black metal where the realms of crust punk and death metal aren't so far away. Maybe that's only the hallucination of a poor traveller lost in the world of Trhä's atmospheric invention, missing her precious d-beats, but the madness this album has afflicted me with isn't going anywhere. The tremolo picking starts to sound like bowed strings & juggles minor and major keys under howling vocals. I'm totally entranced.

Favorite track: ah qältak da £ä Kado£ m £ä Nahatlav

3. POLLUTE. - Microplastics, Massive Profits

https://pollute.bandcamp.com/album/microplastics-massive-profits

POLLUTE's demo tape back in May had already put them on my list of acts to keep an eye on. This album is everything I had hoped to see from them, and so shortly after that first release too. In a genre as niche as d-beat punk, it's impressive to get so much variety on a single album--at only 20 minutes long, no less. "Castle Freaks" does something to the style I've never heard before, and I can't wait to hear more innovations like it--and that's not even the high point of the album for me. POLLUTE's got the right mix of cruster craziness & hardcore deliberateness, bringing very controlled breakdowns to their most off-the-walls tracks. It rules.

Favorite track: Cancer They Create

2. Lifeless Dark - Forces of Nature's Transformation

https://lifelessdark.bandcamp.com/album/forces-of-natures-transformation

The first time I heard this, I stood there with my mouth open through, like, the first three tracks. I just can't believe anyone is making music like this in 2024. Holy shit. The reverb-y vocals, the Bolt-Thrower-esque riffage, it's all perfect. Lifeless Dark doesn't just worship the stenchcore gods, they understand them.

Favorite track: Feeding the Light

1. Kriegshög - Love & Revenge

https://lavidaesunmus.bandcamp.com/album/love-revenge

There's nothing like a band you've never been super attached to releasing a completely flawless album. From the first note I just couldn't believe what I was hearing--it's an incredible balance of being legible and--dare I say it--catchy while being totally uncompromising on the drive of d-beat hardcore. The vocals are shouted with just a hint of a shriek that gives the lyrics an urgency unhindered by language barriers. The guitars are fuzzy and distorted but kept under tight control, passing melodies back & forth and dropping out to let the drums shine at key junctures. It's beautiful. It's Motörhead a few decades after being abducted into a post-apocalyptic alternate universe when the bloodlust has really started to sink in. I hold Kriegshög fully responsible for making me start working on a new spiky leather jacket & knocking over college kids in the train station, plus any other acts of depravity from this year not fit to print. This album has become my mantra, my pulse, my anthem.

Favorite track: Grey Agony

[therocketeer0501]

IDW Starscream X Reader

Rendezvous Part 4

Warnings: none

You pack a few things to take to the lake with you as you plan to be out there until nightfall. There was no one to stop you from going on this little expedition of yours. You had left all of your friends behind when you and your ex had broken up. A new start in a new state. Of course your mother’s death had come around the same time you were looking for somewhere to go. The stars aligned and you ended up in nowhere Appalachia. You had tried to make friends here and get along with your new coworkers. Unfortunately, that had proven more difficult than you had expected. Making and keeping friends as an adult in an established area is hard. After you had piled all the necessities into your car, you gave one last look in the mirror. The unsightly scar on your forehead a glaring reminder that something awful had happened. You sigh as a heavy feeling weighs your shoulders down. It was time to find out exactly what.

“Those idiots! I told them to be careful around the falling ice! Those caves aren’t stable enough anymore!” Starscream slams a data pad against the wall next to Skywarp’s head. The other mech doesn’t flinch as if used to his brother’s outburst, shrugging and putting his hands up in surrender. “Listen I told em but they wouldn’t hear it and now one of us is going to have to report our losses to Megatron. Since you were in charge of this whole thing like you insisted…” Starscream didn’t let him finish. Shouldering past the purple mech to go accept the consequences of his most recent blunder.

The drive to the lake is uneventful and filled with dread. Turning onto that all too familiar dirt track, you notice that the snow was beginning to melt. Though winter was far from over, it was going to be hard to find any useful clues in the slush. You park and don your backpack and snow spikes. Slippery was an understatement. All you needed was to end up in the middle of that lake again. You shudder at the thought. Making your way around the lake, you notice a few things out of place. Broken tree branches, large gashes made in the ground partially covered in snow, and the oddest out of the bunch was the completely shattered boulders in the clearing nearby. When you were younger, you and your sibling used to come and play on these giant boulders. Now they look like they had been bulldozed. On closer inspection, some appear to have been melted. None of this made sense. If it was some new site for construction you’d see yellow tape right? Perhaps a few orange cones? You look up at the broken branches again. Something big came through here. Something impossibly big.

Wiping the energon off of his freshly split lip, Starscream skulks back to his habisuit. His wings droop tiredly behind him. He’s sick of this. Sick of Megatron’s temper. Sick of the incompetent fools he has to command. Sick of taking the blame. It’s as if his leader enjoys seeing him fail. Enjoys taking out his frustrations on him. As much ambition as he has, he can’t imagine a world where Megatron would willingly give up the power he has to the seeker. With a loud frustrated growl he throws the chair at his desk against the wall leaving a dent in the metal. Venting heavily he sends his fist into the wall next. Yelling his frustration to no one in particular. No one to listen because this is a brutal reminder that he’s alone. Always alone. As he leans his helm up against the wall, baring his denta in a grimace and shuttering his optics. His thoughts drift back to that little human. Reaching its tiny hand out to him. As if he were the only one that could fix them. He was the one who nearly froze them to death anyway. Of course it was his responsibility. Everything he touches ends up hurt. Pushing away from the wall he heads towards the exit. He wanted to be alone and he knew the perfect place.

It was nearly nightfall. Dusk had cast purple and pink light over the picturesque mountain lake you had been exploring all day. You sigh and put the notepad and pencil you had just been using to scribble on away. Nothing made sense and you feel like you had wasted a whole day trying to find something out. Kicking a rock as frustration pricks through you, you head back to your car defeated. That’s when you hear it. The distant whine of jet engines. Just as the sun dips below the horizon, plunging the lake in a deep inky blue. You turn towards the noise and reach for your flashlight. The sound was…familiar. You could swear it sounded just like how you remembered in your semiconscious state. You decide to hide amongst the destroyed rocks to see what was making that noise. What you saw made your heart nearly burst out of your chest.

[homelanderbutbig]

The Milk Box (G/T Homelander x Reader)

1270 words. Pure fluff. Homelander is 8 feet tall. Reader is non-descriptive. Established relationship.

You and Homelander share some milk. Inspired by a conversation with @sehtoast, and a suggestion by @slasher-smasher.

It started out as a joke gift for Homelander, a subscription to 'The Milk Box' where every month he would be shipped a crate of specialty milk. Initially, he took one look at this box and scoffed, rolling his eyes at this silly present you got for him. However, it did not take long for the monthly milk arrival to become an anticipated event.  

Today's the day the next shipment is set to be delivered, and Homelander is stressed. The waiting is the hardest part for the man who can have anything at the snap of his fingers, but he displays a high level of restraint from flying to the post office and retrieving the box himself, because he knows how annoyed you'd be with him. Instead, he's pestering Ashley every five minutes for an update on the box's tracking location. Yelling at her to keep him informed every second, while he's pacing back and forth in an attempt to stay grounded.

And then, the moment finally comes. The second the mailman enters Vought Tower with the package, Homelander is rushing to your office, practically bulldozing through your door. It doesn't even matter to him that you are in the middle of a meeting, this is more important.

You barely have time to understand what is happening before you are yanked away from your computer, held close against his chest with one of his immovable hands. He whisks you into the nearest elevator, giving its occupants just enough time to run out, before he hits the button to take you both up to his penthouse. Yet, it can't move fast enough as he bounces in anticipation.

The instant the elevator dings, he moves so fast into the penthouse he practically flies to the dining room, taking his seat while keeping you propped up on his lap. He's left a knife out on the table for you to open the package, as it's become tradition during these unboxing days. With a large hand on your shoulder, he watches intently as you slice along the packing tape. Even though the scent of dairy is overtaking his sense of smell, he suppresses his X-ray vision to not spoil the surprise of this shipment's contents.

Finally, the suspension is relieved as you open the box, unveiling the twelve glass bottles of specialty milk. They are chilled to a perfect temperature thanks to the dry ice packed around each bottle. Homelander is fixated on your hands as you carefully remove each bottle from the box, lining them up in front of the both of you. This month's crate comes from a local farm, featuring 1% milk, 2% milk, whole milk, chocolate milk, and unhomogenized milk.

Grabbing two bottles of the unhomogenized milk, Homelander's favourite, you pass one to him as you both unscrew your lids. He takes the time to deeply inhale through his nose, closing his eyes as the intoxicating dairy scent floods into his lungs.

You both take a sip of the milk, though your reaction is a lot more subdued than Homelander's. What you taste is very similar to the regular milk you drink. For him, it's a feast for his taste buds. The low-fat milk bottom portion dances between textures of smooth, creamy, and silky; the high-fat cream top portion coats his tongue with consistencies of sweet, foamy, and rich. He can perceive the faint tones of grass from the cow's diet, and the freshness of the farmer's harvest.

Regardless, it's not just about the taste of the milk. As a child created in a lab, he never had the opportunity to know his real mother, or be raised by an actual family. He was never able to relate to your childhood memories, having a cold glass of milk every day after school. In a way, drinking milk is the closest thing he has to connect to the childhood he missed out on, and nothing makes it better than being able to share this comforting experience with you, a person who truly cares for him.

"Mmm…" he mumbles, tipping his head back with his eyes still closed. His tense shoulders are now totally slack, letting go of the stress he's been holding onto all day, solely waiting for this moment.

"You like it?" you ask him, stroking his hand that is still on your shoulder.

"Yeah. They got a good batch this time," he remarks, licking his lips before downing the rest of the bottle. It leaves a delectable aftertaste on his tongue.

"What do you mean? Is unhomogenized milk not the same each time?" you ponder. To you, it tastes the same every month.

"Really?" he huffs in disbelief. Homelander takes his hand from your shoulder to start listing off on his fingers. "There's… there's so much that can effect the taste of milk! If there are preservatives or additives, what temperature it's pasteurized at, what the cow is eating… D-do you even know how the differences of the fat content can change the taste?"

You look up at him silently, grinning as he goes off on a tangent about the history of milk pasteurization and homogenization. Your innocent question about one of his passions has very easily gotten him riled up, although it doesn't take much to get him going on topics he loves. He's like a walking encyclopedia, and you cherish seeing him so invested in his hobby of learning new things.

"I love you, you know," you chuckle, leaning your head back onto his pecs. You catch a glimpse of Homelander's brain shutting down from your sudden praise. You took him right out of the middle of a rant, and instantly flustered him with your honest affection.

Putting your bottle down on the table, you turn around and kneel on his thighs so your face is up to his own. You giggle as he tries to angle away from you, hiding that his cheeks have turned red. However, he doesn't fight when you place your hands on his jaw and coax his face back towards you. His eyes are big blue windows into his soul, exposing how easily you overwhelm his emotions with the little ways you love him. But you can just as easily settle him down with those same little ways.

You lean in for a kiss, and bring your hands up to run them through his undercut. Almost immediately, Homelander sighs and closes his eyes, placing his hands on your back so he can sink into you. He purrs from the way your nails scratch his scalp, quickly letting go of that self-consciousness he felt from you bamboozling his train of thought with a simple 'I love you'.

When you break from your kiss, you keep your foreheads pressed together. His eyes open to gaze directly at you, now so serene. It's like you know how to flip the switch in his brain when he needs to calm down.

"You wanna have another bottle of milk? I'd love for you to tell me more about the different kinds," you say softly, caressing his cheek. A sneaky smile slowly spreads across his face.

"I haven't even gotten to modern milk production techniques yet," he chuckles, nuzzling into your nose. You can't help but laugh, but you know he's serious.

And you look forward to it, just to let Homelander have a chance to partake in something he wasn't permitted to enjoy when he was young. Just to allow him to get in touch with his inner child he neglects so heavily. Just to see that childlike innocence buried within himself have a chance to shine.

[nathanbatemanfucker]

Boy Meets Cat, Boy Meets Girl

pairing: steven grant x f!reader

prompt: kid fic or pet fic

contents: the feelings that come w/ temporarily losing a pet, meetcute, flirting

wc: 1,334

an: another promotional fic for @moonknight-events! steven is just…one of the sweetest, cutest men ever. written w/ the Marc’s girls server in mind, iykyk!

DISCLAIMER: as a event runner i will not be entered in the drawing for prizes. this is promotional only.

SP BINGO 2024 | moonknight masterlist

She’s sitting on the steps one day outside the museum after Steven’s shift. He almost walks right past her, bumbling down the steps with a soft hum. It’s been a long day of being yelled at atop getting sleep that just isn’t restful. He’s exhausted. He’s unobservant.

He’s nearly past her when he hears it— a loud, scratchy meow that catches his attention. Steven stops in his tracks, blinking rapidly.

Had he just heard a cat? On the museum steps? Sleep deprivation really was getting to him, wasn’t it?

He turns towards the sound, sure that there will be nothing there, that he is just hearing things. But there she is, perched on the museum steps as if she owns the place. She looks like a little heap of snow— her fur is fluffy and a stark white color that contrasts with her dark eyes and pink nose. He lets out a little sound of surprise, and then she meows back as if she’s answering him.

He laughs, a bright and cheery sound. “Well, hello there little one. Lost are we?”

She meows again, this time a little softer and if Steven wasn’t mistaken, a little sadder. He softens, taking a few cautious steps toward her so as not to spook her. When she does seem skittish, staying in place despite him closing the gap he simply sits beside her on the steps.

“Do you have a name, little one? Can I look at your collar? Promise I’ll be gentle,” He says, reaching his hand out to her.

She leans forward on her front paws, sniffing at the back of his hand before giving out a soft purr. She bumps his hand with the top of her head, nuzzling.

Steven takes this opportunity to reach under her chin, scratching gently before he leans in to peer at her collar.

“Iris— what a pretty name for a pretty cat.”

Another meow as Iris bulldozes her way into his lap. Steven gives her a series of pats, setting off several purrs that he feels vibrating through her spine. She's so fluffy, so soft. He could pet her for all his days. It’s nice to have this companionship, even if it’s just a cat. Hell, it beats talking to the statuer at the fountain in the park and Iris hasn’t spoken a word.

You know for a moment there, I wondered if you were the goddess Bastet,” He whispers playfully, like he’s keeping a big secret. Iris simply meows, using her paws to slip down and lay across Steven’s thighs. “Aren’t you cold? Is that a silly question given your fur coat?”

Steven lets himself sit, idly petting Iris as he watches the sun slowly disappear behind the London skyline. He’s completely charmed with this cat, with the peaceful feeling her company brings. Part of him selfishly thinks about taking her home and keeping her as his own. But, he knows if he’s this fond of her in a short period of time her owner is probably grief-stricken to be without her. He’ll take her home for the night and use his off day to pursue leads on her owner. Perhaps Marc could help with the tracking. For tonight though, he has some company and the idea has Steven rising to his feet, Iris in tow.

“How’s about we head on home and watch a movie? Are you a fan of Meerkat Manor? Or will seeing them scurry about get you revved up?” He whispers, ignoring the weird glances he’s getting from passersby.

As expected, Iris simply gives out a soft meow, snuggling further into Steven’s hold. He grins, raising a hand to pet her head as he rounds the corner, effectively running into someone.

“Iris! There you are. Oh my god, thank you. Thank you,” You gasp, reaching out to squeeze his arm.

If Steven thought he was charmed by Iris, he must come up with a word that holds more meaning at the sight of you. Your cheeks are tear-stained, eyes a mixture of happiness and guilt. Your brows are pinched together, and he has the urge to reach up and smooth out the wrinkle between them. The urge to soothe you. Even during the short walk, Steven had imagined his reluctance to give Iris back to her owner, but that’s all melted away now that you’re right in front of him. So, so beautiful.

“You’re Iris’ mum?”

“Yes. Fuck, thank you so much. I can’t– I don’t know what I would’ve done without her. I owe you.”

“Ah, don’t worry about it. I simply stumbled upon her outside the museum after work. I was gonna start looking for her owner tomorrow, imagined it was too late. But look at you, as diligent as ever.”

“The museum? What were you doing there?” You ask Iris before looking up at the man to whom you practically owe your life again. He’s very handsome, a little tired-looking but his eyes are warm, and his hair is fluffy curls. She’s everything to me,” You explain, squeezing Iris to your cheek, doing some nuzzling of your own.

Iris has clearly learned her affectionate manners from you.

Steven’s mind quickly wanders, wondering what it would feel like to be on the receiving end of your affection. He bats the thought away, flushing. “I can imagine, she’s a little charmer. Plopped herself right in my lap.”

“I’m surprised she got this close to you, she’s incredibly picky. She must sense that you’re a lovely person.”

“Well–I– I’m glad to live up to Iris’ standards. She seems to have good taste. Animals sort of choose their owners don’t they?”

“Thanks,” You murmur shyly, feeling your own cheeks fill with warmth. “I know that folks can say being a pet parent is cringy, but I really am lucky to be her mom. She has such an energy to her.”

“Warm. Calm,” Steven supplies, reaching out to pet Iris’ head, if only for the last time. She nuzzles into his hand and he smiles.

Your eyes track his hand, still a little surprised at how easily Iris is letting him pet her. She had hated almost every person you’d brought back to your apartment except a handful of friends. But, any romantic prospects had quickly made themselves scarce given your mean, overprotective cat.

“Exactly.”

“Well Miss Iris, I guess we won’t be getting to watch Meerkat Manor after all will we? Perhaps your mum could show.”

“Meerkat Manor?”

“It follows a little family of meerkats through the desert. Their struggles, their connections, their enemies. All sorts of things.”

“I’ve always been a fan of animal docs.”

“Yeah? I could recommend you loads of them.”

“I would really like that. I don’t think I got your name?”

“Steven.”

“Steven,” You repeat softly before giving him your name. “It’s really lovely to meet you. This is bold of me but…maybe we could see each other again?

Steven’s mouth drops open, eyes wide in surprise. “Really?”

“I told you I owe you and well– Iris seems to like you a lot. Maybe I could make you dinner as repayment and we could watch some meerkats live their lives.”

“I– yeah. Yeah, alright, I would love to.”

You and Steven quickly exchange contacts. He gives Iris a few more pets before rocking back and forth on his heels.

“I’ll call you tomorrow. Sound alright?” He asks, voice hopeful.

“Sounds great,” You confirm.

You shift Iris into the crook of your elbow, and to Steven’s surprise, wrap him in a one-armed hug as you whisper him a soft thanks. His response is delayed but he hugs you back, surrounded by your warmth and soft scent. After a few beats you pull away, giving him a smile as the two of you exchange temporary goodbyes. Steven makes his way back to his flat with a wide grin, grateful that Iris had brought the two of you together. Cat in arms, butterflies in stomach you walk home feeling much the same.

moonknight taglist: @ninebluehearts, @rmoonstoner, @hotchs-bitch,  @later-gators12, @foreverinwanderlustt-blog, @aleeb , @eyelessfaces, @marc-spectorr, @missdictatorme, @toracainz, @mccn-bcys, @campingwiththecharmings, @whatthefishh

[bonefall]

Why did Runningbrook get shot? That’s a pretty horrifying way to die, especially if any other cat was nearby to see it happen :(

It was!

So this time, the Suburban Expansion of TNP is getting overhauled. I've actually sat down and worked out a couple human factions; the

Land Owners (Windovers)

Unnamed Development Company (Devco)

The Scientists.

The cats won't be able to notice that there isn't just one group of humans at play here, but you will be able to notice them if you pay close attention to what's happening during the first part of TNP. The three groups interact very differently with Clan cats.

The FIRST group at play here, and the one that isn't a player for very long, is the Windovers. It's openly known by the locals that the cats in the woods are 'a bit strange', especially the farmers near WindClan. The Windovers own that land, and lease it out to various hunters and visitors and such.

But they've been approached by Devco, who want to expand Chelford by purchasing their land.

Problem that the Windovers have: If it gets out there are sapient cats, complete with religion, war, and possibly even tool use (rumored but unconfirmed) there's going to be a HUGE problem in selling it.

SO they're trying to 'quietly' deal with the pests. First they poisoned the rabbits, knowing that they eat those. That worked a bit. Next, they tried to scare them off by actively setting deadly animal traps, and taking shots as if they're pest rabbits. That was how Runningbrook died.

(If I end up moving away from gun, she will end up dying to some sort of snare. The point here though is that it's a, "Wait! They're trying to hurt us!" moment)

Around this point, the sale goes through and suddenly Windover persecution stops. NOT their problem anymore, THANK god, Windovers Exit Stage Right.

But at this point, the Clan cats are well aware that they are being actively targeted. Several cats were poisoned, injured, or outright killed. Devco begins development, first cutting through the trees near the Thunderpath, and eventually bringing in the Bulldozer

Which, Speckletail deals with! Buying them just a bit more time. Suddenly, it's calm for a bit, like they're "mourning their monster."

But THIS is actually the moment where Millie's Radio Collar begins; a cat attacking a construction worker is not something that can be ignored, it's all over the news, "CAT ATTACKS BULLDOZER, CLAIMS LABOURER."

(The Windovers got out just in time, they KNEW something like this was going to happen but now it's Devco's problem)

So this is where the Scientists come in. There's a huge clamor over this, Locals saying, "THE CATS ARE SPECIAL," others saying they need to be removed and rehomed, in any case, it's agreed that the White Hart west of the road needs to be de-catted before construction continues (though construction continues to the west, where ShadowClan is)

And this is when the "round-up" efforts come in, where there are live traps, a big white tent set up, and the cats are going to get weighed, tagged, and studied.

These guys are peaceful and DO NOT want to hurt the cats; but the Clans don't know that. To them, humans are a monolith and they're now terrified of them.

From here, the story returns to normal. A coordinated effort from the Clan cats frees the cats they've captured. Graystripe is the only one the scientists are able to hold onto, by slamming the door of the van just before he can leap out. Millie is later released with him, wearing a radio collar accurate to the tracking tech of the time.

And that brings us to the way humans interact with Clan cats now! The team tries to keep their distance to not stress them out any more, using trail cams and staying several hundred feet away while observing them.

[tangent101]

Thoughts on Dariax and Deni$e reuniting

I just had an interesting thought after someone commented on Matt's suggestion that Deni$e was a bit toxic... and that's that I think both characters have grown a bit since then.

First, there's Deni$e. She's been tracking down Dariax for a while, was getting close (she thinks), got whisked away to the ass-end of nowhere, and then she got to meet several people, including one who was friends with Dariax. And they went on some crazy ass adventure and part of that was one of their companions being murderous and crazy and hiding it well... and then when she returned to reach Dariax she missed him again.

In fact, she's been just shy of him for the past two weeks - 14 days to be specific. And in the last day or two? Dariax got to watch his friends break apart. He lost Opal, after trying so hard to save her. Another friend left with Cyrus' soul (whose body he saw lying there while Dorian flew away, forced by Opal's magic which tugged his own path as well). A third stayed with Opal. He and Dorian then traveled to Zephrah... and then he was abandoned again. This time by Dorian.

Deni$e scares Dariax. But what scares him more... is being alone. The fact that Deni$e tracked him down, did so for weeks... I think that is going to mean something to him. He fled from her. He was scared of what was there, he felt like he was being bulldozered along or the like, and then when everyone else abandoned him and he was feeling like he was driving everyone else away?

This dwarven lady finds him. She wants to be with him. Yes, she's angry and she's probably going to slug Dariax... but then she's going to kiss him and just... be "we're traveling together from now on. And if you run again? I'll find you again. Because we belong together." Translation: I want to be with you.

It's the end of the world as we know it. But the man who doesn't want to be alone... is going to be found by someone he abandoned, and she wants to be with him. How do you think that's going to make him feel? That maybe, just maybe... it's not him who's to blame? That he doesn't drive his friends away? That it was just... fate?

I think the two of them are going to do a lot of growing together, and a bit of healing as well. And I think it'll do them both good. Whether they stay together or eventually break up? Who knows? But in the short term, Deni$e finding Dariax will do him a world of good.

At least, that's my thought on it.

[corellianhounds]

My Brother’s Keeper

TBB Body Swap AU

Chapter 4: Complications II

Words: 1.6k

Warnings: None

Summary: Things never go the way they’re planned.

“Wrecker for the last time, stop trying to dig it up, it’s not going anywhere.”

“Says you. Come give me a hand here, I need the muscle.”

Hunter pinched the bridge of his nose, joining Wrecker where he was straining to lift the outer ring on the ground by the one divot he’d been able to make in the stone with his knife. Hunter didn’t know how deep the rings ran but so far Wrecker was the only one who’d made any progress. There were no handholds or notches to tease the idea of a solution, and eventually Hunter had to stand back up and stretch his back.

Wandering around the temple and scanning the walls with his flashlight, Hunter again took stock of his team.

Echo was in control of himself, which (as much as Hunter felt guilty to think of it like this) was an improvement for Echo. He wasn’t having to adapt to anything he didn’t know, and he had more experience and could help the rest of the squad keep a level head.

That being said, he could see Echo’s irritated expression drifting back to where Wrecker was grating his knife against stone, so maybe Hunter’s senses would take some getting used to. Hunter had long since tempered his reflexive irritation at annoying or persistent background noises, of which Wrecker was rarely in short supply. So much of Hunter’s training had involved figuring out how to tone out extraneous information and by now it was second nature for him to be able to tell which sounds or scents or visuals weren’t pertinent to his assessment of a situation, but that had taken training. He made a mental note to adjust the audio settings on his helmet to help block some of the input for Echo.

Wrecker seemed relatively unbothered once the initial shock wore off. He was understandably frustrated at the change in physicality, but he of all of them rolled with the punches best. Tech was still largely built like a standard clone and could shoulder more weight than the average person, but he was more lean and compact compared to the rest of them. It made him fast and evasive in the field, but his fighting style was patently different from Wrecker’s battering ram approach. Hunter was more worried Wrecker’s tendency to bulldoze through multiple opponents and leap onto or into the fray was going to get Tech’s body trampled. Wrecker had always pushed himself to find what eventual limits and thresholds would restrict him, and his personality was one geared towards learning from experience and experimentation. He’d always operated on empirical knowledge, and if that meant charging headlong into danger, so be it.

On the plus side though, Hunter figured he’d only make that mistake once while he was stuck as Tech before realizing he was no longer nigh-invincible. Wrecker may be foolhardy, but he wasn’t stupid.

Tech, though familiar with Echo’s disabilities and prostheses, was still having to make constant micro-adjustments to how he worked. He couldn’t hold his datapad and type at the same time, and the pressure sensors in each of his limbs relayed the sensation differently than organic limbs, enough to the point Tech had had to make a focused effort to steady himself on his feet and work through the change in balance and mobility. He didn’t begrudge anybody for his luck of the draw; he could still move and shoot, and he had plenty of tools still at his disposal, and Hunter knew he’d also be able to keep track of what Echo’s body would need at any given time.

What did concern him though was Tech’s earlier revelation at not being able to recall information the same way as before. He’d gone very still and quiet in the middle of a thought, prompting a sense of unease to worm its way under Hunter’s skin; Tech’s hesitance as he voiced his theory was incredibly out of character and it worried him to even theorize that switching consciousness wasn’t a clean lateral move; what parts of their minds were they unable to take with them because they were tied to their actual bodies, and how would that affect each of them moving forward? How much, if any, would be lost or seep into them the longer they were in somebody else’s head?

And then when it came to Crosshair and Omega…

Hunter didn’t even know where to start with them. There were issues of both age and physiology at play, to say nothing of their respective personalities and skill sets. Any problems either of them had would have to be handled delicately, and thinking about it made him supremely uncomfortable.

If they could just solve whatever puzzle this was and reverse the effects of the switch, he wouldn’t have to deal with any further complications.

Hunter sighed, aimlessly scanning for anything he might have missed. Wrecker had moved on to another ring trying the same thing he had before in chiseling out a larger gap in the cut stone. Hunter jammed one of the pry bars into the first crevice Wrecker had asked him for help with, forcing it down into the ground, but when he leveraged his weight against it he heard a *k-chunk*.

Everybody froze at the mechanical reverberation, silence filling the cavern as they came to a standstill. Wrecker stared at Hunter. Hunter stared at the crevice.

“Uh, Sarge…?”

The ground shook. Hunter’s stomach dropped.

The earth shuddered again, fissures lancing through stone. Hunter stumbled back and Wrecker darted over the colliding floor plates to the outside rings. The floor cracked and began to shear against itself like waves. Stalactites trembled above them. Their eyes widened and the groaning, trembling cavern started to shake in earnest, the cacophonous sound of stone on stone forcing all of them into action.

Hunter barked orders over the din as they grabbed their gear and booked it for the exit. He saw Omega stumble and pulled her out of the way as a stalactite shattered on impact with the ground and sent rocks flying outward in a spray of dust. The rest of the squad was yelling and clamoring for the outer hall, and he scooped her up as he ran, one arm shielding her head from the falling rocks.

Five sets of boots pounded against sandstone as the outer temple walls collapsed behind them. Echo was in the lead, but when he turned right at the first junction he skidded to a halt, Tech and Wrecker colliding with his back as they all hit the dead end.

“What are you doin’—?!” Wrecker yelled.

“This was the turn to get out!” Echo hollered back, swiftly turning and looking wildly around before racing the opposite direction. The earthquake shuddered through the temple again, more fissures slivering between their footfalls and catching up to them. “Other parts of the temple must have changed while we were unconscious!”

The crew raced onward, hitting two more dead ends and an unfamiliar stairway. Echo and Tech argued as they ran, Wrecker yelling at every close call with falling rocks, and when they reached a blocked fork in the tunnels Wrecker reflexively tried with all his might to lift the boulders out of the way, but to no avail.

Hunter raced to keep up, ducking beneath another column that fell and bridged itself overhead. Despite the danger, something nagged at the back of his mind. The temple, the torches, the runes, the rings…

Hunter’s eyes widened. He shouted up to the rest of the men, getting their attention.

“Echo! About-face! One-eighty for each turn we made coming in!”

The squad hesitated but Hunter was already backtracking the way they came and they scrambled to catch up. The temple structure groaned again, crashing walls and columns raining down around them. Hunter wracked his brain for the path they took on the way in, muttering to himself as he took each turn opposite of what they should have been for the way out. He saw a leftward tunnel that split off into two more and he banked right, adjusting his grip on Omega as he rounded the corner and felt a wave of relief when he saw light up ahead.

All of the clones broke from the mouth of the cave system into warm daylight, a shuddering crash of dust and stone bringing up the back of their party. Hunter kept running a good forty paces through the scrub brush before turning back, relieved to see all of his team catching up to him.

“Let go of me,” Omega growled, shoving fruitlessly at him and wriggling out of his grip, falling to the ground and out of reach. She stumbled away spitting curses under her breath, wiping the debris from her clothes.

… Right, Hunter thought. Not Omega anymore.

Wrecker hooted in victory, entreating a high-five from anybody who’d indulge him, but turning to Omega-as-Crosshair sobered some of that good humor; Omega was bent with her hands on her knees, coughing and having a hard time catching her breath. Wrecker felt a pang of sympathy, striding over to slap her on the back and offer his canteen, which she took gratefully, still occasionally coughing.

Echo righted himself, taking deep breaths and trying to slow his heart rate out of habit before realizing he felt… okay. Better than okay, really. The dying adrenaline didn’t make him feel like he was crashing, just coming down from the high like a hang glider skimming down to level ground. He felt alert, focused, senses buzzing from the input of information every sight and smell gave him. With that came two more realizations of the day:

One: His own body had apparently not been keeping up as well as he thought it had this past year.

And two: This was not the same planet they landed on twelve hours ago.

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[thana-topsy]

If you're up for sharing more writing tips, how can I tell if what I've written is actually any good? With writing I get stuck in a cycle of feeling like I'm the next Shakespeare while writing but then I'll look over my work a few days later and absolutely hate everything and think it's the most cringe shit ever, then I'll leave it a bit longer and think eh it's not as bad as I thought but still not great and so on. I feel like being forced to write for a grade during school and having everything be marked and assessed and assigned a particular value has robbed me of the ability to critically analyse my own work in a way that's objective and accurate but also fair and realistic. I can analyse other peoples' stuff till the cows come home but I lose all rational thought when it comes to my own stuff

Adding onto that, how do I get to the point where I can stop looking back at my old work and hating everything and wanting to delete it all? Realistically I know finding fault with my old stuff is good bc it means I've grown and improved from where I once was etc but at the same time I wanna enjoy stuff I've made in the past without cringing every time I read it

Hey there Nony, I wanted to let this one percolate a little bit before answering because I've been where you are. And it's a rough time for sure. But aside from my own experiences, I also wanted to get the opinions of some of my writerly friends in the fandom, too, since everyone is a little font of wisdom in their own right.

So I'm going to share their advice alongside my own, because this is kind of a complicated string of questions you're asking. Long post ahead!

@paraparadigm says to Keep Writing: "Write more. Write so much (and so many different things) that eventually the sheer volume bulldozes over self-devouring ego, comparison twitches, or feeling lost, because you don't yet know your own baseline. Coupled with "read more, read everything, read things you enjoy and things you don't, read for the craft as much as the entertainment." And: "I'd add that when revisiting old writing, it's helpful for me to differentiate between "ew the writing is not as technically solid as it is now" and "ah that's interesting, I guess that's where I was at then, emotionally and psychologically". Old writing is also a sort of archaeological record of your younger self, and that can, in fact, be a bit itchy to revisit, so learning to cherish that without passing judgement can be really helpful. I try to treat it like those little marks one puts on the door jamb to track a kid's height."

@mareenavee says "Part of it is writing more, as Para said and I will always second that. Another part is, honestly, the hardest part. It's to try very hard to get out of the habit of negative self-talk.... There's so much work involved with this but normalizing being proud of your work and having some grace with yourself is part of that answer."

@archangelsunited says "Early on, instead of going “this has to be a masterpiece” I would tell myself my only job was to tell a story. I couldn’t tell a story if I was deleting it. Also, talking about your work helps. The less ashamed I was of my writing, the more people wanted to read it. There is a need to hide your work, and that can lead to a downward spiral all its own. And, 90% of the time, you have to suck at something to learn to be good at something. The work you already wrote shouldn’t be the sum of all your skill, it should be one of those measuring sticks for the moment. Despite previous thought, you won’t be stuck at the same level forever."

@polypolymorph says "In addition to accumulating experience via reading and writing, you also have to be willing to reinvent the wheel. Unfortunately the Process™️ is unique to everyone, and even when you are deliberately mimicking a voice as, say, a ghost writer, you can't expect that 2+2=4 for you. Your process might look more like a Lotka-Volterra equation for the same type of work and that's okay. Trial and error is the best way to figure out what advice actually works for you--and if it doesn't, it doesn't mean you're wrong. Don't get stuck on pop writing advice like a sad roomba does on an upturned rug. Learn when to throw it out."

So there's some advice from some other excellent writers! I hope you've been able to find some value in their advice, because it certainly kicked me in the pants a few times.

As for me, I think, having been where you are, my biggest piece of advice is: Find joy in the craft. Get curious instead of critical. An artist shouldn't down themselves over a rough sketch when they're working out a drawing, so why would a writer do such a thing? Everything you write is practice. Everything you make has value because it builds up to the next thing you make.

At the end of the day, you are the only one who is capable of telling the stories that are in your head. This fact alone gives whatever you put onto paper value, regardless of quality. You are creating magic, in the most literal sense! Creating something out of nothing, conjuring images into someone else's mind from hundreds of thousands of miles away, transcending space and time. It's amazing!

Lastly, my final piece of advice is to just write for fun. Write things nobody else will ever see just because you wanted to get words onto paper. You have to unlearn what was drilled into you in school. You are more than a content creation machine. You are an artist, a wordsmith. And just know that there will never be a day when you look at your own work and say "That's it, I have achieved perfection."

Writing is a life-long journey. Just enjoy the ride!

[anhed-nia]

BLOGTOBER 10/30/2024: THE EXORCISM

Man I do not quite know what to say about this. When I learned that there was a movie about how Russell Crowe plays a disgraced actor who tries to salvage his career with an exorcism movie that goes off the rails, I thought, "Is this seriously a meta movie about THE POPE'S EXORCIST???" Which would have been hilarious. But then I learned that this is actually about Jason Miller who starred in THE EXORCIST, and it is co-written and directed by Joshua Miller who I had completely forgotten (or didn't know?) was Jason Miller's son. Joshua Miller was such a staple of my childhood because of TEEN WITCH and THE RIVER'S EDGE and my favorite movie CLASS OF 1999 (I wouldn't see NEAR DARK until I was an adult) that I have a hard time adjusting to the idea that he has any relationship to real-reality; he's like a figment of my imagination. And when I finally wrapped my mind around all of that, I had this big question about what Joshua Miller is saying with this movie, which is part addiction drama and part supernatural thriller of the END OF DAYS variety. I'm still not sure about THE EXORCISM.

In some ways this movie is pretty decent. I'm not crazy about Russell Crowe but he is well cast as the vain, ashamed, addiction-ravaged actor who returns to the world of his one big hit only to realize he might not have the chops for it. His daughter Lee (Ryan Simpkins) struggles to keep him and their strained relationship on track, and their situation ultimately creates an interesting inversion of the usual EXORCIST dynamic; where it's usually a question of parents managing disturbed children, this movie addresses the problem of disturbed parents, who are supposed to be reassuring authorities and can be extremely hard to deal with both physically and emotionally when they lose control. Unfortunately, this movie develops the same problem that THE EXORCIST: BELIEVER and THE DELIVERANCE had, where it takes a reasonably interesting dramatic premise and bulldozes over it with ridiculous fantasy-action antics and corny, cliched conclusions.

Apparently Joshua Miller also directed a film adaptation of his book The Mao Game which has been described as the "pseudo-autobiographical" story of a kid growing up in a severely dysfunctional Hollywood family. And I may not find this out, but I'm dying to know which part is "pseudo", is it that the story is essentially true but the names have been changed, or is it that the story is sort of fake but it capitalizes on an air of authenticity conveyed by the Miller name, like some JT LeRoy shit? THE EXORCISM gave me similar concerns, and the potential verisimilitude eventually became totally distracting. It's funny, actually, because THE POPE'S EXORCIST was so committed to marketing itself as being based on a real guy even though it's exactly as realistic as CONSTANTINE...and yes, I remember that THE EXORCISM has nothing to do with THE POPE'S EXORCIST, but they both travel down that same weird path.

Anyway, as I said at the top of the hour, I really do not know exactly what to say about this movie, and in the service of that, this review is going to come to an abrupt end starting now.

[sarahowritesostucky]

📖"Merry & Bright"

Part 3 - Family Fun Night

Merry & Bright Masterlist

Rated: Teen

Pairing: Bucky x Steve

Tags: a/b/o, omega Bucky, alpha Steve, kid fic, Karens

Summary: Bucky and Steve go to their daughters' school play.

(If your name is Karen, I'm sorry and sending warm hugs)

Bucky’s been able to ignore the encroaching Holiday season for longer than usual this year. 

Between the warm-ish fall weather and his continuing therapy appointments, the ceaseless calls from his publisher and that guy from Warner Brothers, and the move and the overwhelming demands of a newborn, it’s just hard to believe that it could already be Thanksgiving next week.

Steve’s next text coming through just about drives a bulldozer through that delusion:

Steve: Hey, I’m at the store right now. You want me to pick anything up for this ‘Friendsgiving’-extravaganza? I know Jarvis said he’s got it handled, but I feel like we should have backups for the girls? Just in case Tony’s picked out some sort of weird, avant garde menu? Becs really has her heart set on pumpkin pie. And Sarah, well …

Bucky: You could ask Pepper. I think we’re safe as long as there’s mac ‘n’ cheese and rolls. Anyway we’ve got over a week to sort it out.

Steve: … Babe, today’s Tuesday. We’ve got two days. 

Bucky immediately checks his phone calendar, and sure enough, Thanksgiving is this week, not next. Fuck. 

“Ohshit,” he breathes, eyes bugging out of his head as he realizes that this means tonight is the school play, not next Tuesday. “Fuck. Shit!” In his hands, his phone chimes.

Steve: So, pie?

Bucky texts back a harried ‘yes’, thinking that he’s got to get his butt back to the tower immediately. He very suddenly has only about nine hours before his children need to be fitted with their (as of yet not even near-to-finished) homemade costumes. Becca’s paper mache drumstick still needs spray painted, and Sarah’s supposed to be a scoop of mashed potatoes that Bucky still needs to find something to act as the pat of butter on top.

“Jarvis, help.” Bucky says as he hoofs it back in the direction of the tower. 

 Jarvis’ voice emanates from his phone: “Mr. Rogers. How can I be of assistance?”

Bucky rattles off the craft supplies they’re going to need. “And if you know anyone on Stark’s payroll who’s good with a needle and thread, that wouldn’t hurt either.”

It seems like only yesterday they were dressed up as Buzz and Woody, letting Bo Peep and a very bossy Jessie drag them around from house to house. They’d trick-or-treated in the Cobble Hill neighborhood where they technically don’t live yet but will soon, once the house is finished being refurbished. Bucky had carried Gabe strapped to his front as one of the Little Green Men alien squeaker toy thingies, and Steve had pulled a wagon along for when one or both of the girls inevitably became too tuckered out to—

Anyhow, point is: it feels like they were trick‘or’treating all of two seconds ago.

And now Thanksgiving is in two days? What the everloving fuck?

Bucky spends a very brief amount of time that afternoon being irrationally mad at his husband, as if it’s Steve’s fault that his pregnancy brain has apparently extended into the postpartum period and allowed him to lose track of time. He grumps privately that Steve should’ve somehow magically known that he was mentally operating in the wrong week, and should have thus alerted him that the holiday was imminent! Stupid Steve. What the hell is the alpha good for, anyway?

Later that evening of course, he realizes how ridiculous that is. He comes to terms with the fact that he’s actually upset with himself—partly because of the mad scramble he’s left with to get ready for Coulton-Chestor Preparatory Academy’s family fun night, but even moreso because of the 5k he now has to face up to in less than forty-eight hours. (What real, qualitative difference one more week of jogging in the park was really going to make, Bucky can’t say, but he’d been counting on it to help him work his confidence up about the whole ordeal.)

It’s not like he wouldn’t back out of it if he could, but he absolutely cannot back out. This is the first ever Brooklyn Bridge American Heroes Turkey Trot, co-sponsored by Stark Industries and Barnes Prosthetics (yes, Bucky is the genius who thought it’d be fine and dandy to plan a 5k less than half a year after giving birth). Together, he and Tony have started a foundation for veterans and civilian victims of the regime years, to help provide them access to the high quality, bio-integrative prosthetics that Bucky’s company makes.

Since it’s not exactly cheap to weld a robot arm onto somebody, Bucky and Tony have partnered with Wounded Warrior Project for this charity run; done to raise funds for vets who don’t happen to have a spare ninety grand lying around to fund their surgeries. The limbs themselves are, of course, all provided free of charge by Barnes Prosthetics, and the overall costs are at least somewhat ameliorated by various amenities provided by Stark.

As the visible face of the charity, Bucky’s got no choice: he needs to show up, show off, and show support. He’s expected to be there to make nice with all the other amputees who’ll be running, and to show off how happy and perfect his life is now that he’s got the Asset IV prototype cybernetic implant attached to his body. It is a bitchin’ arm, and Bucky is excited to get to hand one of those gigantic cardboard checks over to the Wounded Warrior guys, but he really, really wishes he’d thought to postpone the Foundation’s first run until next Thanksgiving. 

At least he’ll have Steve there with him, he thinks. His Alpha has promised not to outpace him to any embarrassing degree, Darcy is fine with keeping Gabe until they get back, and Tony has even arranged to have the girls set up for the Macy’s parade with a disgustingly VIP viewing situation on Central Park West. But aside from those few hours on Thanksgiving morning, Bucky’s daughters will remain under his purview for the holidays this year. 

And the hubbub begins with Family Fun Night that evening. 

Bucky alone has to deal with Sarah’s anxiety problems leading up to the curtain call for this stupid fucking school play. “Hold still, Honey,” he begs, speaking past the safety pin he’s got held between his lips as he kneels there and uses both of his hands to try and do a last minute costume fix. “Sarah I said hold still.”

“Fix it daddy, fix it!” 

He’s crouched next to his youngest daughter in the school’s hallway, trying to better secure the pat of “butter” (a folded yellow tea towel) to the top of her not-so-great mashed potato costume. Steve is off somewhere with the drumstick, helping her to not be scared about walking out on stage. “Baby, please. I can’t fix it if you keep moving around,” Bucky growls, but his frustrated tone only makes Sarah get more hysterical about her role in the play being messed up by a floppy tea towel. She starts to cry about how she doesn’t want to do this anymore. 

“Sarah Winnifred, I swear to God, if you don’t hold still, you’re gonna have a new hole poked in your head!”

He and Steve sit proudly in the fourth row back and watch the play that their children’s overpriced prep school is putting on before it lets out for Thanksgiving break.

At the end of the final song, when all of the students are lined up on the stage like a demented paper-mache buffet of human-sized food items, bowing hand in hand, Steve and Bucky rise with all the other parents for a standing ovation, humongous smiles plastered on their faces. Steve tries to do a finger whistle with middling success, then he leans over to Bucky’s ear and cheerfully whispers, “That was so dumb!”

Bucky laughs, still clapping and beaming with absolute pride for his daughters. “Yeah it was friggin’ awful!” 

The curtain falls, and he and Steve exit the auditorium to go backstage and congratulate the girls. A very excited drumstick and mashed potatoes run up and start talking over each other to tell their fathers all about the play that they just performed. “Papa! Daddy! Did you see me?! Did you see my song?!!” 

“What about meee?!”

“Sure did, Becs. You were really good!” 

“The best turkey drumstick ever.”

For being such excellent thespians and to celebrate their acting debut, they present the girls with two foil-wrapped tulips that they bought out in the lobby. Becca especially, seems very proud of her flower, twirling in her drumstick costume and holding it to her nose again and again. Bucky’s smile wavers with emotion as he gets that warm, shot-of-whiskey feeling once again, and he remembers that Life is Good. He catches Steve’s eye from over top of the mashed potatoes, and they share one of those silent “I Love You” moments. Steve shoots him a wink.

It being family fun night, Darcy appears as planned and ushers the girls away to go change back into regular clothes before they head over to the kids’ party in the gymnasium. Meanwhile, Steve and Bucky go to the reception that’s been put together for the parents. Bucky isn’t super keen on attending, but he promised the girls that they could play games with the other kids for at least an hour, so he and Steve make an admirable attempt to mingle amongst the other parents.

Coulton-Chestor Preparatory Academy is an exclusive elementary school on the Upper East Side. Due to its sheer proximity to Stark Tower, and since bussing the girls all the way to Brooklyn for an entire year would’ve been too much of a hassle, Steve and Bucky chose to enroll them there. It’s only temporary, until the renovations on the Cobble Hill house are complete and they’re able to move back to Brooklyn. Bucky is looking forward to being able to walk his children the two picturesque blocks between their house and the neighborhood school each day.

But until then, it’s the more snobbish parents and overzealous PTA moms of Coulton-Chestor that he has to navigate at functions such as tonight’s. Bucky’s been taking some time off work ever since things got very pregnant-and-miserable in about month eight, but he still considers himself a working father, and as such there is an awkward disconnect between him and the more … involved stay-at-home parents who surround him at the reception.

At least there are hors d’oeuvres and cocktails, which give him something to do with his hands. Steve starts chatting with a few of the parents who are running the silent auction, and Bucky avoids getting drawn into bidding on overpriced theater tickets by heading over to the refreshments table. He’s just finished loading up on a bunch of mini quiches and cocktail weenies, when the one person he’d hoped to fully avoid at this function makes her attack. Bucky turns around with his little plate of foot and startles as he’s suddenly faced with a familiar, blonde-haired woman. 

“James!” She’s got a tea-length dress, an overly-whitened smile, and a ponytail that’s been curled to within an inch of its life. It’s Karen.

(No, her name is literally Karen.)

And in Bucky’s limited experience with her, she has an uncanny ability to make every social interaction the exact opposite of what Bucky would like it to be. It’s just a gift some people have.

She swoops in with two other omega parents by her sides, introducing them as “Jill” and “Nate.” Bucky plasters on a smile to match hers while she air kisses his cheeks in that way that rich people who think they’re cultured always do.

“You made it,” she coos, acting pleased to see him. In all fairness, she might be. Bucky’s never point blank told the woman that he finds her insufferable, and she always seems to make a beeline for the more well-to-do parents. Ever since she found out that Bucky and Steve not only rub shoulders with Tony Stark, but are actually living with him, she’s been eager to make Bucky one of her besties. “It’s been too long. How are you, darling?”

“Oh, you know,” Bucky says, gesturing with his plate of cocktail weenies. “Hanging in there.”

“And how is that gorgeous new baby of yours doing?” she asks, nudging Jill to announce, “James is married to Commander Rogers. They have three children.”

Jill and Nate make a polite fuss over that, while Bucky tries to act gracious and think of a way to correct Karen that “Commander” isn’t Steve’s title, and if he ever hears her referring to him as such, he’ll be offended. “How is your family doing?” Bucky asks, more to get the topic off himself rather than due to any real interest. 

Like most of the Coulton-Chestor moms, Karen is married to a well-to-do Alpha, has precisely one child, and spends her time trying to climb as high in Manhattan “Mommy” society as possible. Having a living child at all is automatically a foot up in terms of social standing, Bucky’s learned, and the moms of Park Avenue lord their accomplishments higher than most. Most times Bucky’s met her, Karen’s been wearing diamond solitaires with designer workout clothes and brandishing her own fertility like a damn merit badge. 

Karen brags about her son for a few minutes, and when it seems like everyone in their small group is necessitated to take a turn with regards to their own offspring, Bucky throws some random fact out about how the girls have been doing. Jill and Nate start gushing over Bucky’s grand accomplishment of having three kids, which is practically unheard of. 

“You must be so proud. How lucky to have three healthy children!”

“What were yours in the play?” Jill asks, and she seems friendly enough so Bucky makes an effort to tell her about how he’s responsible for the turkey leg and the mashed potatoes. She giggles and nods and says her son was one of the pumpkins.

“Oh, ha, yeah. They had quite the little dance routine, didn’t they?” 

Bucky’s smile turns annoyed when Karen feels the need to point out, “Yes! And your little Rebecca kept up alright, didn’t she? She seemed able to follow along with the other kids quite well!”

“Yes,” Bucky says peevishly. “She’s very talented.” 

“Isn’t it wonderful here? I just love how inclusive Coulton-Chestor is,” Karen simpers. She turns to the other moms and starts telling them about how Becca is in her son’s “regular” class, and how she’s always so sweet, and so helpful to the other students. She talks about Becca like she’s a little mascot, or a class pet, and it rankles Bucky’s nerve to no end.

Since the fertility crisis began, there’s been more stigma placed on children with any sorts of disabilities, and Bucky’s had to deal with a lot of thinly-veiled prejudice due to his daughter’s special needs ever since he started advocating to get her into the same high-quality school programs as Sarah. The public school system still hasn’t recovered, and with limited slots available in all childcare-related fields these days, people are more ruthlessly competitive for their children than ever before. 

“Yes, we like it here,” Bucky agrees. “Though we’ll be switching to a different school next year, when we move to the new house over in Brooklyn.”

“You’re not leaving The Tower?” Karen gasps, as if that’s the most horrible, ludicrous decision. Given that she makes it sound like Bucky and his family are choosing to move out of friggin’ Buckingham Palace, Nate and Jill predictably get curious and ask:

“The ‘Tower’?”

“Stark Tower,” Karen chirps, excited to tell the other two omegas, “James and his husband live there.”

 Nate’s eyebrows go up. “They live there. In the tower?”

“Oh yes! Didn’t you know? Why, they’re friends with the Starks.”

“Really? Oh, I’ve heard such good things about that Pepper Potts,” Jill gushes. “Seems like a lovely woman. How do you know her?”

Bucky smiles, pained. “Actually I knew Tony first. We work together.”

“You work?” Nate sneers. Bucky ignores him. 

“Yeah, I met Tony back during the, ah … well, during the regime years.”

“Gilead? Oh. Huh.”

(“Wonder what the Starks were doing, back then? Were they married then?”

“You never do hear what celebrities got up to during all that, do you?”

“No, you never do.”)

Bucky hums, not intending to get into a conversation about it, but Karen forces his hand by volunteering, “Wasn’t that all in your book though, James?” 

“Um,”

Karen enthusiastically tells the others, “He was one of those resistance fighters, can you believe it? That’s how he lost his arm.” (Everybody’s eyes not-so-surreptitiously fly to where Bucky’s left hand is sticking out of his sweater, holding onto the plate of hors d'oeuvres.) “And he was a vessel. His husband was one of the commanders down in Washington. That’s where they met!”

“Really?”

“Steve wasn’t a real commander …” Bucky hedges.

“Oh he wrote a whole book about it! You really must read it.” Karen rattles off the title and both Nate and Jill make sounds of recognition. 

“Ooh. You know, I’ve heard of that book.”

“Great,” Bucky mutters. He has to smile along politely and answer them as they start asking him fascinated questions, with Karen supplying details every time he tries to demure and change the topic to something less sensational. 

“He’s just being modest!” she simpers, laying her hand on Bucky’s arm in an overly familiar way. “James, tell them about how you were on the View.”

Bucky reluctantly does, and Jill and Nate nod along, enthused to hear about how he’s been on television and met the hosts of the show. “It really wasn’t all that exciting,” Bucky insists. “I wasn’t the main guest. They had, you know, real celebrities that went after me. Reese Witherspoon and stuff.”

“You met Reese Witherspoon?”

“No, no. I didn’t. I was only there for like, two minutes. It wasn’t even important.”

“Oh I don’t know,” Karen prods smugly. “A little birdy told me that Netflix was trying to buy up the film rights to your book.”

Bucky doesn’t even care, he openly shoots her a withering glare this time. “I can assure you that’s not true.” (It’s HBO, and it isn’t Bucky’s fault if she doesn’t have her details right.) 

Karen continues to gab to the other two parents about it anyway, insisting that some omega heartthrob actor whom Bucky has never heard of would be the ideal casting choice to portray him in the film version of his book. “And Chris Hemsworth. Oh! Wouldn’t he just be perfect to play your Steve?”

“Nobody’s making a movie out of it!” Bucky snaps, fed up with her incessant gossiping. “It’s not happening.” He looks around awkwardly at the end of his outburst, aware of Nate and Jill’s surprised expressions. “Um, I just mean: the studios were shopping around,” he mutters. “But I said no.” 

Of course this is very disappointing to Karen, and she tries to tell Bucky what a mistake that is, talking about how interested everybody would be in the subject matter. “I just saw an episode of the Dr. Phil show where they were talking about it,” she says. “They had wives and some of those vessels on. Even a commander.”

Bucky hums dispassionately. “Sounds like trash tv to me.” He’ll be damned if he lets Karen know he was asked onto that program as well. “Just people trying to make a spectacle out of it.”

Karen titters awkwardly and agrees, but Bucky can tell that she’s annoyed at him for shutting her gossip down. “Well, it’s all very controversial, of course,” she excuses. “And a commitment like that would just be so much more on your plate.”

Bucky nods, glad that she’s dropping it. “Yeah. Exactly.”

“After all, you’re already a working mother,” she says, saying ‘working’ all hurriedly and quietly, as if it’s something not to be mentioned. “I’m sure you just want to focus on your family, now. With the new baby and all.” 

“Congratulations,” Jill gushes. “Did you have a boy or a girl?”

“A boy. Gabe. He just turned four months old last week.”

“Oh, how wonderful.”

“Another omega for your family?”

“No, Karen,” Bucky says, annoyance audible in his voice. “We haven’t had him tested. We’re just going to wait and find out the old fashioned way.”

“Oh. I see.”

They all seem taken aback, because it’s very rare for a newborn not to be tested for designation these days. Much to Bucky’s chagrin, gender roles only seem to be becoming more emphasized than ever. Jill chuckles awkwardly and tries to lighten the mood. “Well, that’s so progressive of you. Dan had our little Archie in an alpha playgroup by the time he could crawl, I swear.”

They all titter over that, and Bucky tries to scan the room for any sight of Steve without being too obvious in what he’s doing. He spots him over by the punch bowl. “Um, I’m sorry,” he excuses. “I think I see my husband calling me.” He starts to make his escape, but Karen grabs him just as he’s turning.

“Oh, James, wait! We wanted to ask if you’d help us plan the Winter Gala.”

“Oh, I uh.”

“We’re going to have the children do a nativity scene. And I was thinking a candlelight service. Wouldn’t that just be picturesque?”

Bucky makes a face. “Sorry, Karen. My family isn’t very religious.”

“Oh, no but it’ll be interdenominational!” she insists with a big grin. “You celebrate Christmas, of course!”

“No.”

“... No?” 

“Not really,” Bucky grunts. “I mean, we do a tree and a menorah and all that, but ..."

“Menorah?” she says, and the way she squinches her eyes sets Bucky’s nerves on edge. “You’re not Jewish?”

Bucky pulls his arm back to himself. “Culturally, yes. Steve’s family is Catholic, mine’s Jewish. But we’ve decided that organized religion isn’t what’s right for our family.”

“Oh! But you can still come to the church service!” Karen says brightly. “It’ll be—”

“We’re not religious,” Bucky blurts out, sick of stepping around the issue and having lost his patience. He’s tired of politely fielding other people’s invitations for him and his husband and children to come and check out ‘this congregation’ or that, and figures he’ll just squash any chance there might be of him actually getting roped into planning holiday festivities with the Coulton-Chestor evangelical set. “We’re pretty much raising the girls Atheist,” he tells Karen, watching as her smile flickers like a bulb hanging on by its very last filament. He feels a degree of nasty satisfaction at having perturbed her. 

Disturbingly, the Christian Right has continued to grow in popularity—culturally, if not politically—these past few years, and Bucky has very little tolerance for it (he tried to show tolerance before the regime, and look how that ended up). He knows his family is in the minority, and it’s very apparent how this information makes the friendly light in even Nate and Jill’s eyes dim somewhat.

“I’m sure you’ll plan something great, though,” he excuses brightly, turning around to go and find Steve and see if it isn’t too early to make their escape. “It was nice catching up!”

Masterlist

If you liked what you read and feel so inclined, please consider dropping a tip in the Kofi🍵 cup!

This has been a fill for:

@steverogersbingo

Card: SB3088 || stark-contrast

Square D3: Slice of Life

@marvel-smash-bingo

Card: sarah-writes-stucky

Square I5: Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers

@stuckyversebingo

Card: sarahyellow / sarah-writes-stucky

Square C4: alpha/omega relationship

[badopenttdideas]

Kick your opponents when they're down

After Scattered Transport Systems accidentally bulldozed a major rail junction along with a large part of a town, their competitors at Evil Transport decided that it was the perfect time to further ruin their day. Due to some bizzare legal loopholes, it was possible for Evil Transport to block one of STS's trains on a bit of track that had survived the accident, keeping it stuck there. Scattered Transport Systems was then unable to rebuild in an aesthetically pleasing fashion, and was unable to recover that train. Although some attempts were made to salvage the situation, the train proved to be an annoying drain on the company's finances. However, this was solved when the company realized that they didn't have to keep paying the driver to show up, drive the train back and forth a few meters, and then go home every day. So they fired the driver, stopped the train and left it to rot on the siding, eliminating all maintenance costs but providing a shameful reminder of their past mistakes.

[theageofsims]

I've spent what feels like a month trying to work through my legacy save glitches by deleting "other Sim households", deleting unused lots, turning off parts of the story progression settings, and using MCCC to clean up the worlds without removing everything.

Somewhere along the lines I've already broken the family trees populated in game, but it's fine because I've started to keep track off the game and on paper.

Lots won't load in Sulani even after I evict the households or I bulldoze the lot and replace the house. Lots won't load when the Sims want to travel to places in or outside of worlds.

There was a birth that was supposed to be triplets and the bassinet disappeared after I named all three babies -- and only one baby could be found so that was a major glitch and never happened to me at all in 10 years of Sims 4.

My save keeps jumping between 56mb to 33mb and then back up again. I also can't save I have to use "save as" otherwise I get an Error 0 notification. I also get another notification error that begins with 102 and has several numbers after it when I try to load lots/households. It then pushes me to the maps view.

So -- I really think it's time I move into a new save. After 3.5 years in this legacy save, there's just far too many glitches happening.

I've already saved houses owned by the Powhatans and I just need to go back in and save a few more households that are related to them either friendship wise or another or cousins/half cousins and then just start putting them all into a new save.

I use a mod that allows for family relationships, like it extends it far beyond what the game can do and I use it a lot for my Age of Sims save, so will just use that here to help get everyone connected who is a family member and so forth.

I don't think I'll delete the old file, but I'll retire it because it just is unplayable in many ways at this point.