#didn't feel like putting too much effort into this one

[a-d-nox]

nox tests hypotheses: "saturn tells you what annoys you"

this is one of shawtyherbs hypotheses. this is how i feel this manifests for me in my chart and why i believe this hypothesis works. my saturn is located in my 3h, in taurus at 29°... let's take deep dive!

taurus saturn

a lack of discipline: i feel like i have a strong work ethic - i value hard work. i despised when i did group work in school and i was paired up with procrastinators or people who were unwilling to put in the necessary effort to achieve a good grade. it felt like every time i had my part done i would start getting anxious that the other person/people didn't. it felt like a manipulation - like we were playing chicken. if they didn't do it, would i do it for them? how long did they have to wait until i stepped in?

instability and unpredictability: sudden changes, chaotic environments, and erratic behavior can make me uncomfortable, anxious, and annoyed. i guess it's sort of like a trauma response from childhood except now i get irritable... everyone know my dislike for surprises.

wastefulness: i get easily irritated by wastefulness, whether it's wasting time, money, or resources. again maybe its from my childhood and having those experiences. but i am the type of person who arrives on time. if i buy something and don't like it i use it until it's gone, i eat it til its gone (even if its stale), or i use it til its paid itself off (if i buy a shirt and can't return it and it was $30, i am wearing it 30 times). it sounds strange - i know - but it is how i am...

superficiality: i really value authenticity. i feel like i am easily annoyed by superficial behavior, materialism without substance, and people who put on mask to fit in... like so what if you don't laugh at someone's shit joke, so what if i am happy with my hydroflask and want nothing to do with a stanley (it's all the same to me), and who cares if your true self is not everyone's favorite (you'll find your people a whole lot faster if you're your self).

resisting practicality: you know how much advice i have given throughout the years THAT WAS ASKED FOR and people did what they wanted anyway??? why even waste my time if you don't want outside perspective. or something its just kind advice to help with ease like hi you are using a stain on the deck, i recommend you wipe as you go so it dries quicker and you don't accidentally smear/smudge later. but nooooo.....

saturn at 29°

arrogance: you know it's okay to be wrong... it's not okay to pontificate about how you were right in some alternate scenario. just admit you were wrong in this situation and move on or better yet say nothing...

irresponsibility: when you say you are going to do something do it. if you are a leader then lead and know that you are responsible for anything you designate to someone you view as your subordinate (especially when you don't train them on what you want them to do for you). if you can't commit to having a task or being in charge than don't do it. someone is relying on you - it's 10 times worse when its yourself and you push goals to the side.

unfounded claims/criticisms: perhaps i am overly sensitive to criticism because i tend to take my work and my self a bit too seriously. but if you can't take yourself and what you do seriously, then who will? i take everything personally too. so when i get criticism and its said in a nasty way (at least how i interpret it) or there is a lack of explanation or no backing i will get annoyed. you bet my humor will be ill-tempered... you can't expect me to react well to a comment like "you're wrong". like wow okay so detailed, i'm glad you decided to write one word and a contraction to dismiss my 2k essay. like if you are going to criticize me or disprove me make it detailed and make it sound. and if i do something wrong its probably because no one told me how to do it in the first place (cough cough work) so don't snap at me, walk me through it.

lack of respect: now listen - i'm no angel, i was a teenager once - eyerolls and all. but now that i am a bit older (she said at 23) i am getting to the point where respect isn't freely given (unless its to build a good first impression) but instead its earned in a pre-existing relationship. i don't tolerate disrespect, no one is going to snap at me and tell me what to do. you do that and you will get the opposite reaction that you expect from me (speaking from real life situations). asserting dominance doesn't make you worthy of respect, it makes you a bully.

3h

superficial conversations: i said it why back when in one of my get to know me posts. i prefer deep, meaningful conversations and i find small talk / superficial chatter frustrating or pointless. like skip to the meat bruv - we don't have all this time for "hi how are you?" "good how are you?"

disorganization: a lack of structure, whether in communication, in a learning environments, or my daily routines, irritates me. i feel like it effects me most in the routine bit. weekends are my prime culprit because my schedule falls apart. during the week my meals and tasks are standardized, but on the weekend, i somehow manage to always get annoyed because i eat lunch late or what i had in my mind to do gets tossed aside...

gossip/rumors: i feel uncomfortable with gossip, i prefer facts and reliable knowledge. which i know facts seems shaky when i am posting the content i do... but generally facts over fiction in conversations. gossip and the like almost always gets me in trouble - i struggle with holding my tongue especially when i see someone regularly who has been gossiped about frequently. withholding information is a form of lying in my opinion - and lying makes me extremely uncomfortable.

impulsive decisions: i am trying to get better about this because i tend to carefully deliberate everything. but i don't like when others around me make impulsive decisions that effect me because it ruins the plan i already had in my mind. for example, last weekend i wanted to go to an all day fall festival with my mother (and yes i told her tuesday my plan) but last minute my mother's boyfriend-not-boyfriend said he needed her help with a project and it was going to be an all weekend thing. so friday night my plan went out the window. so quickly had to make a new plan consisting of paid readings, trader joe's, and shampooing my couch (fun stuff i know...).

a lack of respect for rules/boundaries: a disregard for social norms, etiquette, and established rules of communication annoys me so badly. like it is common courtesy (at least for how i was raised) to call or write in advance of stopping over at someone's house. my mother's boyfriend-not-boyfriend is the biggest perpetrator of this behavior. they aren't technically dating anymore so hello hi in my opinion he should be giving us a heads up if he will be stopping over. also switching gears when i say "no" or "i don't want to" i feel like a lot of people around me push me and test me to see if i will change my tune. i don't appreciate that in the slightest. i make clear boundaries in all the relationships i have (even here i have guidelines) - so yes, you bet i get frustrated when i vocalized or wrote my boundaries and yet they get ignored.

do you have a hypothesis you want me to test? or perhaps you want me to build a hypothesis for something you've been wondering about where astrology is concerned? please use my "suggest a post topic" button if you want to see it happen!

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[cellophaine]

Chapter VI: OUT

Masterlist

Pairing: Art Donaldson x F!Reader

Warnings: Fluff. Negative thoughts due to toxic parents.

Author's Note: Sorry for the late upload! I fell into a rut after the last update, and thought I could make deadline since this chapter is shorter. I hope you will enjoy this little intermission before things kick into gear in the next chapter!

GIF Source: @/roranicuspond

You woke up around noon on the 27th. Disoriented and starved, you rummaged through the cupboards for a quick meal. You scarfed the instant noodles down in silence. There was no taste, only texture processed in your distracted mind, but it was enough to keep your stomach from gurgling. Afterward, you turned your phone on to find missed calls, voice mails, and texts accumulated in a concerning number. Most of them were from Art. His earnest concerns and their urgency burgeoned with each message, and so did your guilt as you read them. Remorse festered and spread through your skin like a cling film as you listened to his voicemails. Art just wanted to know if you were okay, and here you were, not responding.

What could you say? You dwelled on each hypothetical response; you typed them out just to delete them. Your eyes followed the characters as they slowly disappeared, watching each word withdraw itself behind the blinking cursor until you were left with an empty field again. It felt wrong, not reassuring Art, but a part of you believed it was for the best. What would happen if he found out about the real you? What if you hurt him just like how you hurt your family? He should be protected from someone like you.

You sent a short message to Sophie, letting her know that you were okay. Fighting the urge to text Art again, you put the phone face down on the coffee table, ignoring the part of your mind that craved his attention and soothing words. You knew he would know what to say; he would tell you what you wanted to hear. But it was not his responsibility to give you that.

You were still in yesterday's clothes, and the faint smell of sweat was embedded in the soft fabric. Too paralyzed and tired to change, you fell asleep on the couch and woke up a few hours later. The sun had gone down, and the streetlights had gone up, casting its yellowish glow into the darkened apartment. You sat up, your movement slow and sluggish as a splitting headache started to pound in your head. There was an imprint of the cushion on one side of your heated cheek as you wiped the drool off. You reached for your phone, your eyes squinted at the artificial glow and noticed that there was another text from Art.

I'm worried about you. Can you call me?

Ignoring his text again, you returned the phone to the table and diverted your attention to the DVD collection that Ashley owned. After putting on a random movie, you sourced for some snacks, and ended up stuffing your face with chips until your throat parched. The barely processed chips left your body not too long after the movie was over. You hunched over the toilet, dry-heaving into it as your insides twisted and worked itself into a complicated knot. Your body ran hot, yet you couldn't help but shiver. Your body was leaden with fatigue, and all you wanted to do was to indulge in the comfort of your bed. After rinsing your mouth, you dragged your feet to your room and fell into your bed, your body exhausted from the effort.

/

The morning came, and you didn't feel much better. Repulsed by your own smell, you took a quick shower. Droplets of water drenched the back of your cotton shirt as you cleaned the mess from last night. The table was wiped down, the crumbs were swept up, and the dirty dishes were placed in the sink for later. You layered a sweatshirt over what you had on and headed out with the trash bag. After discarding it in the dumpster behind the building, you made your way to the park nearby. Walking along the lake's edge, you shuddered as a cold breeze whispered on your exposed skin. You crossed your arms, snuggling deeper into yourself. The winter here was nothing compared to the one in your hometown. Back home, the cold was biting and cruel, always hungry for any vulnerability. Had it always been that way? Or was it morphed and changed into something you could easily recognize? Your relationship with your parents was bleak and apathetic. It had modified your perception of home with a certain cynicism that was hard to let go of. You were grateful for the warmer weather here. It was a welcoming start.

You found a bench, brushed the fallen leaves off of the cold iron and sat down. The park's vacancy made you feel small and insignificant, yet, at the same time, safe and at peace. Right here, right now, you were no one, and your actions didn't have consequences. You could dwell on the simple act of existing, doing nothing, and that would be fine. You could pretend that in this little pocket of space and time, the outside world ceased to exist. In this undisturbed chasm, you were not suspended in your own mental struggle. You were not the source of your parents' distress. You didn't have to worry about how you were perceived by others, and whatever label they might want to imprint on you didn't matter. You felt a familiar prick in your nose again, and you sniffed hard, hopefully, to stave off the feeling.

Hunger curled in your stomach, reminding you that you hadn't eaten. It was 2:30 PM. You left the park shortly after and stopped by a convenience store. You walked home with a cold-cut sandwich and a soft drink, figuring groceries could wait until tomorrow.

From the gate, you could see a silhouette at the door to your building. The familiar blue scarf hung loosely around the arched neck that you had silently admired on multiple occasions. The dishevelled blond head was bowed, shielding their face from your eyes, but you didn't need a closer look to know. The gate rattled softly, and he perked up. You locked eyes, and your heart seized in your chest. Your name sounded like the sweetest note in his voice. Art stood up and crossed the distance between the gate and the door in a few strikes. You felt the pull as well, but there was a hesitation that slowed your steps. But that didn't stop Art from reaching you. He wrapped you in a tight hug, pressing his body to yours. Your arms hung limply to the sides. His mouth was right next to your ear when he spoke, and you felt his worries deep in the marrow of your bones.

"I've been calling and you haven't answered. I was so worried about you. Are you okay?"

You inhaled deeply, and your senses were filled with Art. The softness of his coat, the solid frame of his body, the warm scent of his skin. You closed your eyes, revelled in his presence, relieved in the comfort you had so desperately needed. There was so much you wanted to say, but they failed to rise above your bewilderment.

"Aren't you supposed to be in Vermont?"

Art pressed you further into himself.

"Yes, but I don't care about that right now. Are you okay?"

"Yes, I am. Why wouldn't I be?"

At that, he pulled away but still kept you within reach. An incredulous, almost accusatory look was evident as he explained.

"You didn't answer my texts, or calls, or voicemails. Made me think something bad happened to you."

You shook your head vehemently.

"No, nothing happened. I'm sorry that I made you come all this way, but I'm fine."

You tried to step out of his embrace, but his hold on you was unwavering. You braved a smile, your hand patted reassuringly on his forearm.

"You shouldn't be here. You should go back to Vermont and enjoy your vacation with your family."

Art stared at you, and you felt exposed under his gaze. For a long moment, he said nothing. The need to fill in the silence was too much, but you fought against it.

"Did you know that you're not good at lying?"

His voice was low yet piercing. His words mirrored your sister's from a few days before. Your brows furrowed, your eyes strained to keep the tears at bay.

"That's so weird. My sister said the same thing."

Your voice wavered, and your attempt at a smile faltered. Before you could give in, you forced yourself out of Art's hold and beckoned him to follow you.

"Let's go inside."

/

You locked the door behind you while Art looked around the apartment from the entryway, shrugging off his coat and scarf and leaving them on top of his carry-on. You felt relieved that you cleaned the place a little before you left. Art's eyes followed you, and you pretended that you didn't notice that as you put the bag of food on the counter.

"Do you want anything? Water? Food?"

Art followed you to the kitchen.

"No, I don't want anything. I want to know what happened, and why you're here."

You busied yourself with unpacking the small bag. Art came and stood by you so close that you could feel his warmth.

"Come on. Talk to me."

"It's … complicated."

"Then start slowly. From the beginning. Or give me a summary. Anything."

Only then did you turn to look at him.

"Why do you want to know so badly? This doesn't have anything to do with you."

"It has everything to do with me because I care about you. I like you."

His admission was like honey to your tea, making your unjust indignation resolve rapidly. You softened your tone.

"I … I like you, too. That's more of a reason why I shouldn't tell you."

"That's bullshit. If you really liked me, you wouldn't shut me out like this. It's unfair."

"It's not up to you to decide–"

He cut you off, making you swallow the rest of everything that you wanted to say.

"After all this time we've spent together, I feel like you're still hiding yourself from me. Every time I ask about your family, you always turn the question back to me."

Art held both of your hands in his, caressing your skin with his thumb.

"You listened to me when I wanted to vent about my parents. You even came to my match even though you had class. Let me take care of you like you've done with me."

"I had no idea that you felt that way. But … I can't."

You looked away from him, your head dipped to look at the floor, but his gentle grip on your chin made you confront him.

"Why not?"

"I don't deserve it."

"Why not?"

"Because … because …"

The more Art pushed, the less certain you became of your self-perception. Everything your parents had said about you came rushing back, and your mind obeyed their command as if you were still under their authority.

"I'm an ungrateful, awful person who's selfish. I will hurt you."

A faithful verbatim of what you were told. Art's face was a mix of everything, but what stood out the most was a contained anger. For your sake, you supposed.

"Did your parents say that to you?"

You nodded.

"They're wrong."

"And what do you know about me? I think my parents know me much, much better than you do."

"I might not know you the way your parents do, but they don't know you the way I do either."

You exhaled hard, unable to come up with a rebuttal. Deep down, you wanted to believe Art, wanted to believe that there was still at least one good thing about you. Here he was, imploring you to confide in him. And you stopped holding back. The tears came quickly, and steadily. They were hot on your cheeks, but they couldn't compare to the warmth that he enveloped you with. He pulled you into himself, his back bent to be closer to you. You rose on your tiptoes to nuzzle into the crook of his neck. Art ran a hand along your spine and woven it into your hair, holding your head where it lay, while the other wound around your waist, anchoring you to him. Even when the sobs reverberated through your frame, he absorbed them, his hold steadfast and strong.

/

After you had calmed down, Art led you to the couch. You told him about what happened. Art listened, not once interrupted you. It was one more person who knew about what you went through, but it was Art. Despite the exposure and sheer vulnerability that you had subjected yourself to, you had never felt safer.

Your eyes drooped, and it started to get harder to disguise your yawn. ARt beckoned you to put your head on his lap, and you didn't fight against it. His hand caressed your hair, drawing all the tension and easing you into a state of repose. You tried to keep your eyes open, so you asked him a question.

"Have you ever felt like … you were an inconvenience to your family?"

His hand slowed on your hair, but it didn't stop. It took him a moment to answer.

"All the time."

Your hand on his knee squeezed, expressing your sympathy.

"Sometimes, I think my parents put me into Mark Rebellato just to get rid of me."

You nuzzled your face against his thigh; the denim felt rough in the right way on your skin.

"I'm sorry. For what it's worth, I don't think you are."

You ended up falling asleep to the feeling of his gentle caress on your hair. Later on, when you were in a different state of consciousness, Art's lap was replaced by a pillow. You faintly heard the sound of dishes running in the kitchen. It was the last thing your head processed before you were pulled back into darkness.

You woke up a while later to the dead silence of the apartment. There was no sound of him. Almost immediately, you were filled with regret and anger for oversharing, for being so carelessly vulnerable to Art, who didn't deserve this burden. You dragged yourself into the kitchen for some water and found that the dishes were cleaned and put away. You felt powerless to a wave of emotions that started to build, and you bit on the insides of your mouth in an attempt to control it. The door to the apartment unlocked, startling you, and Art came through with a bag in hand.

"You're awake."

"You're … back."

You regarded him, your eyes widened in disbelief. He walked around to get to the kitchen, placing the bag on the counter.

"You seem surprised."

Art spared you a look of amusement.

"I thought I sent you running already."

He closed the distance between you and pulled you to him. Art kissed your temple, then placed his chin on your head.

"It'll take much more than that for me to run away."

He let you go, and returned to the bag he brought in with him.

"I bought us some food. I figured you needed something other than that sandwich."

He pointed to the sad plastic box that was still on the counter.

"To be fair, I was planning on doing groceries tomorrow. So, if you could hit the pause on the judgement …"

Every day after that, until school started, you were never apart for too long. Art essentially lived with you and kept you company throughout what would be a lonely week. He showed you his dorm room, which was a neat and clean single. Each day seemed to be better than the last, and it didn't slow down. Life felt like it was yours again. There was a sweet naivety that you possessed, that things could last like this forever as long as you cared for it with all of your heart. But your innocence was the hard-earned lesson that would come back to wreck you.

Likes, reblogs, and comments are greatly appreciated! I'd love to read your thoughts on the story!

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[xmrnothingx]

An alliance of Humans, Eldar, and Necron march on Slaanesh only to find she got killed by some random Ork Kommando on a quest to make the purplest (and therefore sneakiest) paint. Yet another dumb idea for a Warhammer 40k drawing I needed to get out of my head.

[silverfurioso]

There was an attempt at Madara...

[moe-broey]

Fellas can you take this somewhere else. Maybe. Just not in the fucking halls. Thanks 🫡

I couldn't resist drawing out these tags I wrote on a dif post LMFAO

Moe just has...... SO many problems.......

Close-ups of my fave shots!

The elusive Líf...

[iftitah]

🪞

[gu6chan]

maybe its sample bias but i think it's kinda funny how most people I've seen who've played drakengard because of nier are making ending e THE endgoal and more often than not the main if not only reason they're playing the game at all and when they finally get it they're like "this is it the single most impactful, greatest moment of all gaming. im wiping tears from my eyes this is it" and then you see the drakengard fans who've played drakengard because they like drakengard and you ask them about ending e and they're like "eh. it was okay, i guess"

[artkaninchenbau]

His Blade ⚔️  [Speedpaint] [Commissions]  [Patreon]  [Ko-Fi Shop]

[yeonban]

Being in Tobias' mind is such an intriguing experience bc you'd typically expect him to only care about getting richer and richer for riches' sake like most other "villains" do, but all he wants is excitement, fun and the feeling of being alive. He couldn't care less if his life were to be put at stake, nor if his entire wealth were to vanish overnight. Sure, he's confident he could get it all back if it ever happened, but it also shows what money is to him. A means to an end, rather than the goal to strive for

[unproduciblesmackdown]

spent the evening reading through all of the like galley pdf copy of the 2 trans 2 furious zine and a great time start to finish like it was Not an effort to keep at it despite its being like 160 pgs. and despite my not having ever seen a f&f movie or really especially directly "correctly" being interested, though i'd ofc love to see any of the films like live & in person w/a bunch of trans strangers, say

laughed and teared up multiple times and thought about how impressive and creative entries were and like, the momentum was easy, everything was engaging and intriguing and invigorating and enriching....and Printed Editions (that ship to US & canada) are still available for pre-order, for about another week (also the window given for us going over the digital copy for edits/corrections lol) soooo. again i like haven't seen any f&f movies, and that didn't impede anything at all, and it was a fantastic time:

and another reason i'm like Oh My God So Appropriate To Have Sent In An Entry is how, like, it's all transformative fun and serious yet not somber Media Analysis on media you don't have to have actually even seen, or "like" straightforwardly, or at all, or be the "correct" audience for, or have an "intended" interpretation, lol, lmao....like this is Extremely our shit out here lol, what one is up to all the time in the world of Billions Series Analysis like, personally haven't even seen it, i'm not cishet enough to be the intended audience or otherwise sharing various particular assumed perspectives that are occasionally required to even parse, much less enjoy, some material....and yet!!

and like, if there was an all-autistic contributor's fun fan media analysis / commentary / parody / exploration / transformation / etc zine about billions? it'd be like wow how exactly me, and yet ofc i'd be at way more of a loss at what to scream abt winnie, perhaps ft. & tay, and the overall [billions]ing, much less how to actually execute that lol. it was easier to do a Very 101 Intro To: Cam Stone Exists Btw, nonbinarily, in that i limited myself to One Page so i could actually feasibly get it done, but in doing so i, as expected, could only say a fraction of what i could say about cam, were i explaining things in full / just unleashed, and skim the surface but just go "they exist btw and here's a tiny bit of further 101 info." it's not like, An Issue, b/c i don't think the [everything] that i could say would work great in full, and i can't write a great little short form piece of text about them (or winston, or anything else)....but it was also like, well if a trans f&f zine Doesn't have the trans f&f character in it then what are we doing, and We Know Of Cam Stone, so the most feasible [handing out a flyer] version of telling ppl they exist has gotta be done

and it's like, it's (relatively?) matter of fact to this end of only having so much room to put in words, and definitely ending up having to squeeze lines in vs struggling to fill the space. it could've been weirder, or funnier, or hornier, but it successfully exists and maybe it's a little weird, funny, and horny (drew an Especially [ooh sexy cam stone]-tinged pic lol) and whatever is difficult for me to perceive abt my own personality infusion in whatever, like how i have to be reminded like oh right, my Art Style, the way that Eye draw lol....and of course, i can't and don't expect my one page informative crash course intro to cam stone to be able to be Everything, any more than years' worth of lots of [winston billions] material in various formats of various extensiveness from various angles has been Everything. and the zine as a whole can't be Everything but it is, in fact, So Much abt So Many Things from so many different approaches. i enjoyed everything, especially like, "An Ode to X" as in fast x, which evolves into "x" as an (implicitly nonbinary) in-universe character and i was Moved and teared up, and i see it immediately follows "Jason Statham Will Call My Dad A Pussy In Fast 12" which moved me and made me tear up, which follows an entry that's a haiku about each film, none of which i've seen, which i didn't get misty about of course but was fully engaged with and enjoys, which follows my entry

there's naturally plenty about roads and horizons and racing and speed and i'm also like, i'm a gay who can drive, and i can feel it re: the trans contributor whose entry mine follows which is about their irl experiences driving in a demolition derby, inspired by f&f. and i can feel it re: enjoying f&f beyond how you're "supposed" to, or how you would in a cishet(tm) way, and how so many of these entries had resonance, and that intrigue and engagement, and lenses on where to find explorations of gendering which will kind of Have to come up whenever anything succeeds in approaching things that are genuine and really truly more To Life, even while the point of f&f is not to be "realistic," especially about, you know, the driving and what you can do with cars, which i fully appreciate and definitely understood more for cam stone being in a story ramming through a wall outracing an avalanche hacking cop cars and defusing bombs and ramping over bucket wheel mining excavators and being swept out of the way of a train that was going full speed but silent until like 0.05 sec ago when it also burst through a wall or something? and whomever all is involved with racing like a rocket launch fr. and having fun, being yourself, and killing people, hell yeah

and like, the [this is like my autistic ass out here laser pointing at winston billions as autistic and having that lens on this media that doesn't intend it or directly invoke it] relevance also Of Course in that, through kompenso, that is where it is like yes as i have that personal symposium of ongoing compounding unfolding branching distilling consideration, analysis, appreciation, transformation, etc going on, so too does my colleague as the world's preeminent tayficionado, which is where they looked into akd's oeuvre and found the cam stone material, and passed it on to me, then passed on the [zine call for trans f&f contributions], So

and that, just like as is also found crucially in kompenso / the then preexisting & all eventually following winnie n tay material, there's that Autistic and Trans resonance. some particular quotes from this zine were especially like, oh, pointing, pointing...."Thirty minutes into my visit, I suddenly just didn’t want to be there anymore. I didn’t feel angry, not really very sad at all either. I just longed to be elsewhere. A different place, with different people, within a different moment. And then every cell in my body pleaded to not feel that way in all of my moments, in every group of people, in all places." ....[from a poem, ft. formatting thusly:] "It made me feel important, kind of? Like, more present? Like people talked about me a lot but never exactly about ME, if you know what I mean. I mean, of course sometimes I could feel something inside of me. A sneaking or, like, a skittering. I just kind of figured everyone feels that sometimes, like really deep down, right? It’s just that no one really talks about it, you know. That’s what I figured." ....[from a section of a contribution w/the context of the author not yet knowing that they're trans]: "but he was familiar and didn’t make me think too critically about much in the world, especially myself, especially as he never seemed too interested to ask me about me—not that I would’ve had much insight to share at the time beyond “please do not think too deeply about how I am.”"; and then, w/the context that they do realize, and have expressed, that they're trans: "but I was still learning about the concept of mattering, so I didn’t push the issue of basic respect at the time." ....from another submission, that is Sooo: "maybe i am transing Fast and Furious just by loving it" ...."Discovering, loving, and sharing this franchise (and myself) with others has been such a wildly different experience—maybe even the opposite experience—than self-policing myself into who I thought I should be. It’s nourishing, welcoming—an open invitation to learn and grow rather than an ongoing test to constantly worry about failing."

an ongoing test to constantly worry about failing....here ofc a parallel to Gendering, and, ofc, the autistic & trans [handshake] and resonance, to Autisting....i resonated with plenty, genderingly, but this wasn't a surprise or even like, my focus, and of course not all the entries themselves Textually mention [gendering], but it's like, a trans space in a zine lol, a baseline of that understanding and perspective, vs having to be actively looking. nonzero textual neurodivergence mentions, too, and other lenses of ways to be Othered / non normative, like race, nationality, religion. the overarching, Constant [omg sooo me] resonance is that of like, having this foundation of refusing Limits, of approaching a Rich Text a hundred different ways, w/different tones, and different formats, and different experiences and ideas explored. you don't need the source material to acknowledge any noncishet people textually exist (to be understood by noncishet audiences), or to be deemed Good, or Enjoyed, or your entry to be proffered as like, correct and definitive rather than One exploration you could offer up, amongst many offered by many others who could say more, again, differently....i've been like, balancing excitement for having this contribution, and its being like ooh fancy lol this is the one time i can say i have (non self-)published work, and it'll be Out There, and (including all contributors' gifted copies) apparently that ft. abt a thousand printed copies atm, and the digital distribution option hasn't happened yet....along with, like, it can't even be my comprehensive, definitive [cam stone exists btw] theoretical Ideal Entry lol b/c that would not be feasible for me to make or to be put into a zine. knowing i have Points on my side for it being crucially relevant lore (and the competition being hotter for the small form text entries, though there's other illustrations, comics, collages, edits, etc) like, yeah the strength of this isn't in its being as weird or funny or horny as anything could be, lol....but my Personality is embedded in it as per like, see: how that Journey of relevant interests and enthusiasms and engagements and perspectives and weirder, hornier, more extensive and varied works led up to and contribute to this piece's existence (such as, years of drawing winston 9000 times being part of how my drawing looked in march, when i made the cam stone piece)

and like, in not seeing everything as a test to fail, in seeing [when are you seeing things as that test to fail], &/or similarly/overlappingly seeing [when are you seeing things as a test to Prove Value to others or something and achieve person status in their eyes b/c of it] like, lol, i hope a thousand plus ppl learn cam stone exists, and it'd be fun if they enjoy that process. put in little floaty hearts as flair, just as i often do, b/c by now i just Know and Embrace that i do. and i'm not like "i hope everyone ever is blown away" b/c why would they be lol, and that's fine. like how even in [i just say some shit abt winston billions, and ofc abt myself and my experiences / perspectives through winston billions while knowing that's not what's "meant" out here probably maybe though put me through to will roland, yknow...] i'm like oh don't be thinking abt proving your value w/this specific oeuvre lol like. anyone Caring as validation like, it's too late by now, i like people liking shit and getting anything out of it but it's like, i'm doing my thing, i'm having a specific ass symposium abt quantent and billionsing "wrong" that eye enjoy, i enjoy getting any feedback/attention on shit i put out there in case ppl wanna partake, i don't enjoy any/all of it in any/all ways just so long as it's Anything, yknow. like same with interactions/attention on Me as an autistic person who actually exists, lol. speaking being exhausting when it's ppl saying shit At me, would-be "positive" attention that's from someone like deciding what i'm like or what i'm communicating and wanting something from me, that shared discussion Abt something can only be a gateway into like "normal" exchanges to "normally" socialize, finding that pattern of not being worth effort unless it's effort that gets something out of hurting you / thwarting you; all versus: i have plenty of expertise knowing myself vs needing feedback, i like doing my thing, i like doing my thing Alongside others, probably strangers, within a certain context, like being cooped up at college and socially recharging by going ""alone"" to the coffeeshop down the block, while going "with" people would generally be a mixed bag if not disheartening to even distressing. which, here i am, doing my little thing alongside strangers in this context of transgendering and fun and serious but not not funny and varying and daring and earnest materials exploring something that's about anything or everything or nothing, and not made for You, but here you are anyways, as you always have been

anyways, that is to say, like, perfect that it's turned out so like "yeah you don't need to have seen the movies even" and such enriching Reflections and like, so different and yet cohesive without needing to like, painstakingly group or order things to create some Connections, they're all there, and i'm like damn yeah cam's quarter-mile V neck, so fucking true. and i'm like, this is so Me, without having to be like, "and that is b/c i have put Me on the page, in full, with utmost success, and Everyone Will Love It (Me)" lol, which was not like, a danger, but that's through all the years of going [everything is a test i'm failing / can fail at any moment] and yknow, even up to recently and this very moment wrangling with and realizing things like, hand on shoulder are you looking to "earn" some estimation of Value in others' eyes that they can only choose to give by seeing everyone as a fellow person w/inherent value who deserves basic respect. like the mortality mondays that ramped up since late january, but also since '09, but also since like forever in different forms, and back when first discovering billions and, for like the only time while we've been watching, Knowing when everything in a season will air, but also not thinking i'd get to see it, and now in a similar boat, but different (having done "nothing" on paper over the years but like, been Realizing Things, been powering up, been assigning the Value to myself and Understanding myself & my experiences further. and also other things that you Could put on paper, but yknow), and like, it's still about [grr let me see billions through, even though i don't even see billions] and still about [!!!] despite it all and things that are "unserious" and also not and who needs like a certain kind of validation from enough of certain kinds of people

anyways, the autistique resonance within it, and in the process of reading it, and having our specific path to sending something in, and making it. it's an excellent ride and it's very epic that it exists so consider that print copy preorder if you want (plus the intended eventual digital distribution option, not yet available)

[sunflowerrboyy]

logged onto minecraft for the first time in a long time and the only world i had was the copy of the realms that me, my former partner, and my old friend spent months building on (in survival)

so nostalgic...

[doberrrman]

I have this feeling that I have unofficial beef with my neighbor...

[sir-snow]

I don't believe in therapy.

Let's just read Neitzsche and do kinky stuff together.

That'll be healthy, right?

[chuluoyi]

LOVER'S QUARREL

- fushiguro megumi x reader

“i can't do this anymore.” you and megumi are just too different; he's stoic, you're bubbly, he prefers solitude, you love being social. it starts with fights, words you don't mean, and ends with an event that would haunt him for a long time to come.

genre/warnings: angst, breaking up, post-breakup feelings, mentions and description of injury and blood, hurt/comfort, fluff in the end (you make up!)

note: dear god i’m finally getting this out of my drafts. loosely inspired by real life events i’ve seen around my friend’s relationship sooo it might hurt a bit 🤏🏻 but who can say no to angst to eventual fluff? tagging @lees-chaotic-brain and @kasumitenbaz (as per request in the ask!), you two are always here for my megumi works, thank you!! :3 and thank you for dropping by for the event!

a part of 1K MILESTONE EVENT

general masterlist

Everyone pointed it out as a joke, that you liked him way more than he did you.

And you used to never let it ruffle you. To you, Megumi’s sternness and silence meant that he was comfortable with you. You never wanted him to change his ways just because now you were seeing each other.

But when you thought it over now, as you stood before him with an aghast expression and knives stabbing your kind, soft heart, you couldn’t help but do a double-take.

You were the one who confessed first. Most of the time, you were the one who initiated dates. You always texted him first, asking about his day, and even when he brushed you off, you would keep being this ball of sunshine and wished him a good day.

You never realized it before… that through everything, it has always been you. Unfailingly.

So how dare he spout this now?

“I can't do this anymore.”

"You... can't?" you spat out, feeling the first tendrils of anger course through you. "What exactly it is that you can't do? What do you even mean?"

"Look," Megumi stared at you squarely, and you thought now, that it was the coldest of eyes, straight and true. "It's always been like this between us lately. It's only right that we end this."

This, he said. He didn't even want to define your relationship anymore.

You scoffed. "And why do you think we always end up this way? Have you ever considered, even once, that it's because you make no effort at all?"

"I'm trying," Megumi quickly replied, almost in a hiss, and you almost recoiled. "But I just see that we'll end up nowhere, that's why I'm bringing this up now."

Oh, that freaking hurts. You boyfriend had just told you that this relationship would go nowhere. Right in your face.

Your eyes stung with tears, yet you fought to hold them back, fixing your gaze on the lamp overhead and inhaling deeply.

"You're... selfish," you stated, filled with ire. "You're always walking around eggshells around me, never telling me what is it that you really want—"

Megumi's unclouded eyes fixed on your trembling form. "We just disagree on a lot of things. You know it and it bothers you. It bothers me too. Rather than forcing our relationship, I think it's better—"

"It's always me!" you yelled then, lips quivering and eyes watering, unable to hold your emotions back any longer. "All dates, lunches—everything!" you locked your eyes with him, in mocking disbelief. "How can you say you're trying when, in truth, I'm the one putting in so much for us?!"

In that very second, Megumi thought that he hated seeing you like this. You were supposed to be the cheerful one in this relationship, and when he agreed to go out with you, he made an unspoken commitment to himself that he would at least not make you miserable.

And yet...

"...I'm sorry."

Came his reply, and you were sure that this was it.

And to rub the salt in your wound, he added, "I can't lie to you and say I haven't thought this for a while too."

As tears welled within you, you wondered and questioned what you lacked that led to this. However, the overwhelming sense of betrayal consuming your thoughts ultimately prevailed over any other emotions.

Now he could've appeared before you as a stranger and you wouldn't bat an eye, as the cold steel in his tone said, "And if blaming me is what it takes to make you feel better, then so be it."

You couldn't pinpoint the source of your sudden boldness, but in the next hot minute, you marched past him, your shoulder harshly colliding with his in a deliberate, almost spiteful manner—which, indeed, was your intention—and then you ran.

Which led to the next scene: you found yourself bawling your eyes out in the girls' lavatory.

Yuji and Nobara saw everything unfolding right before their eyes. They hadn't meant to eavesdrop, but you and Megumi were literally breaking up right the middle of their shared classroom, and it was hard not to follow the discourse until the end.

"Are you okay?" Nobara had come to your side, ensuring privacy by locking the restroom door out of your consideration. You were a sobbing mess, attempting to wipe the overflowing tears away while letting out all your emotions.

"He's..." Your voice faltered amid sobs as you gazed at your steadfast friend, your throat clogging up. "He said... he's been wanting t-to... break up with m-me..."

"That's okay, that's okay..." Nobara brought you to her arms, patting your back in reassurance. "Fushiguro is insensitive like that... don't cry over him now. He's just a wimp, okay?"

"Why is it me?" you asked her, voice brittle, still shaking with tears. "I t-tried everything! Being the supportive girlfriend..."

"If he can't appreciate what you did, then the problem lies with him," your friend stated, traces of irritation brewing in her resolute gaze. And as she firmly grasped your wrist, her next words resonated. "Not you."

. . .

"Do you really have to break her heart like that?" Yuji fidgeted with his hoodie, staring at his best friend with a blend of confusion and sympathy.

Megumi sighed, finally ruffling his hair into a mess, as if expressing his own state of mind. “This is for the best.”

Yuji’s eyebrows visibly creased. “How is this ‘for the best’? She’s miserable, and you…” he assessed him, scanning him from head to toe, “it doesn’t seem you’re faring any better too.”

“The longer she is with me, the unhappier she will be.” Megumi glanced at the bathroom’s direction. “She can deserve better.”

He was always too quiet, too boring, not able to match your energy too. He couldn’t fault you for expecting more, whereas he was just not exactly built for your expectations.

Megumi really thought he wanted it to end. At one point, it even felt like a chore, but…

How strange. Why did it feel like something was clawing at his chest?

Time heals. Megumi knew that by theory, but he really did see it firsthand when he saw you all giggling and happy again three weeks after he initiated the breakup.

With Hakari.

“Yo, what are you glaring at?” Panda asked, but Megumi didn’t pay him any mind.

An upperclassman, Hakari Kinji, was naturally cool and talented. He was laid back, knew how to have fun—all in all, a total opposite of Fushiguro Megumi altogether.

Three weeks. It’s only been three weeks since then.

“Megumi?”

Wait… Aren’t three weeks too fast to get over your ex?

“Megumi!”

“Huh?” he turned to the sentient panda with a jerk. “Oh, what is it?”

He looked at him with a concerned gaze. "Why do you look so scary? It's almost as if you're about to punch someone..."

But who was he to argue? He had no right to be upset now.

"Is it Kinji?" Panda gasped, finally putting two and two together when he followed his line of sight. "Oh Megumi... but you—"

"Just shut up, please," he blurted then, a hint of annoyance in his tone. With that, Panda didn't pursue it further, leaving him with his thoughts.

From where he was at the field, he could clearly see your radiant smile for Hakari. It was clear that the two of you shared a degree of friendship, but Megumi never knew that you two were that close.

...huh?

Why did the sight irritate him so suddenly? Why did his chest twinge again?

What a fool. You're the one driving her away, you idiot.

Suddenly these memories popped up one by one—

Of you suddenly hugging him from behind in an attempt to surprise him.

How he pressed his lips on the crown of your head when you fall asleep on his shoulder.

How you would give him that dopey smile when he pulled you close.

But on harder days after missions gone wrong, he’d ignore you altogether— the slight disappointment in your smile then. How your expression fell when he told you to go. How you slumped and looked back in hopes of him changing his mind.

“Haaaah.” Megumi turned away, unwilling to keep watching you any longer. Why? Why hadn’t it occurred to him before now?

Why did he long for you now? Why not before, when you were still his?

They were right. It seems people tend to desire what isn't meant for them.

What could have been more painfully awkward than being sent into a mission with your ex-boyfriend?

You would kill Gojo for this. Or at least give him the lowest possible score in his teaching evaluation for the year. How could he? Your breakup was an infamous public spectacle, so this setup was undoubtedly intentional!

You were losing your head over this, and yet your ex-boyfriend...

"Keep your guard up," Megumi reminded curtly, in a warning tone. He looked as vigilant and straight as always, as if he wasn't even bothered.

You threw him a dirty look, offended. "You don't have to tell me twice."

This just cranked up the discomfort to an excruciating level. The mix of unresolved tension and memories—okay, you might be an emo, but how were you supposed to be cool with all of these hanging in the air?

Your site of exorcism was an abandoned warehouse, and the cursed spirit in question was supposed to be a grade 3. You two were grade 2 sorcerers now, so you were a perfect fit to exorcise it. But there was indeed this unease in the air that you couldn't put your finger to.

"Isn't it awfully too quiet?" you unwittingly muttered, staring at the darkness of the wall. You couldn't feel any cursed energy belonging to any possible malevolent entity, and that was what unsettled you the most.

Megumi frowned at your line of sight. "It is. Stay close."

You blinked at what he said, and before you knew it, the familiar scent of him being near to you made your entire body burst with this equally familiar warmth. When you looked up to him, seeing the solid sharpness in that dark eyes of his and his jaw set, dead butterflies in your chest rose back to life again, against your heartbreak and better judgement.

Stay close, he said... So he is worried...

And in an attempt to hide how flustered you were, you looked down.

You walked a few good steps, when suddenly he asked, "So, are you with Hakari-senpai now?"

"Huh?" You spun around, your expression a mix of surprise and confusion.

"You two seem close."

Seem close? Seem close... wait, so Megumi had noticed...?

Suddenly, you felt incited and it made you angry. "That's none of your business," your voice carried a sharp edge, hissing. And you knew you were being a bit mean by adding, "You broke up with me, so why do you even care?"

In that moment, Megumi could've sworn his chest throbbed. Your cutting tone pierced directly into his heart, lodging itself there.

You had all rights to be annoyed, and he knew that. Why did that question even slip out of him?

"Nah, nevermind," he mumbled in response, looking away.

Awkwardness lingered afterwards. You hated this, but no, you weren't above being petty. He had broken your heart and it still stung even now. If your intentionally biting words did to him even a fraction of what he made you feel, then you would find a small sense of satisfaction in it.

But you weren't able to ponder about your mess of feelings further when Megumi abruptly yanked your arm, his voice soaking with urgency, "It's here!"

Sure enough, the grotesque cursed spirit with the shape of a giant bee broke through the walls with a bang. The two of you immediately readied your fighting stance. Megumi was ready with his divine dogs, while you with your cursed weapon.

For a while, you engaged the cursed spirit with all you had. You were trying to focus on the enemy, but you couldn't help but notice the way Megumi always looked at you every few seconds, checking for any signs of injury or harm.

Frankly speaking, he trusted your strength and knew that you were a capable sorcerer. You had been paired in a mission before and he knew both your potential and shortcomings. It was just there was something about this place that had his senses on high alert.

And his fears were proven true when you yelped and were flung onto the grimy floor. "Y/N!"

"I'm fine!" you shouted in a rush, scrambling to your feet. However, as you spun towards him, your scream tore through the hall as you caught sight of the bee lurking behind him. "Megumi!"

He got distracted. The bee quickly latched onto him and almost stung him, until he wrestled it off and summoned Nue and exorcised it.

You went to his side that instant. "Are you okay?!"

"I am." But then he winced and almost fell on his knees if you didn't have a secure grip on him. He savored your touch and breathed a sigh of relief, thinking that now you two were safe.

"Megumi! Oh god!" Panic surged through you as you pulled him close. His side was bleeding, and you widened your eyes at the sight.

"I'm okay, I promise," he rasped, looking you in the eyes. "What abo—"

Then you saw it, the flicker from deep from that corner of platform, and suddenly, you grasped the source of the unease that had been lingering within you all this time. It wasn't the bee Megumi had just exorcised—

At that moment, there was no room for thought, one thing was certain: you didn't want him to get hurt more.

He didn't manage to finish his sentence when suddenly you pushed him away with so much force he never thought you had. Everything crashed so suddenly, he didn't have the time to brace himself or grab you with him, as another cursed bee appeared out of nowhere and—

Reality flashed before his eyes as he stared at you in sheer horror. At how the cursed spirit tore your body, sinking its hollow stinger in you.

You didn't really know what happened next. Everything was muffled—the frantic movements around you turned into a blur, along with Megumi's yells. Otherworldly pain coursed through your entire being and your ears rang, then everything in your line of sight became distorted and faded, along with your consciousness. Next and the last thing you knew was Megumi's battered face, a final imprint before you succumbed to the void.

Megumi had exorcised the remaining cursed spirit and staggered to his feet—falling a few times, but he made his way towards you through gritted teeth. You are hurt. He forced himself to get to you and pull you into his arms.

And suddenly, suddenly, nothing mattered anymore as overwhelming terror consumed him upon seeing you. Blood streamed from your abdomen so much that it made a continuous pool.

"You stupid—!" He choked out, voice hitching. You were no longer conscious and it devastated him even more. "Hey, hey? Wake up—hells—"

You, who did everything you could to save your relationship. You, who cried tears for him when he blatantly broke your heart. And you, who put himself first—and now facing the consequences.

It crashed upon him in that very second, the clarity. What was he thinking back then? He still loves you.

"If you die on me, I won't forgive you."

Megumi scooped you in his arms, pressing you close to his chest, the blood seeping from his wound be damned as he looked at your serene face. His heart shattered in the worst way possible and he almost wheezed at the sticky sensation of your blood—and how lifeless you felt in his grasp—but he willed it away.

"Don't," his broken rasp echoed the walls as he took each step to get both of you out of this hellhole. He winced and hissed at his own injury, chewing his lip in frustration, at how helpless he was.

"Don't leave me."

It was like a distant, hazy memory.

Was it a memory though? No. It seemed far too real for that.

The throbbing headache pounding through your skull and shivers that wracked your body pulled you back to reality. There was a heavy pressure on your abdomen and any movement sent sharp pain shooting through you.

You gradually opened your eyes, squinting against the brightness. You were in a hospital gown, an IV was injected on your arm, and the sterile scent made your stomach twist, as nausea creeping through your guts. Your vision was still blurry as you tried to look around to find someone who waited for you. As you slowly turned your head to the side, you saw him, sitting in the chair right next your bed.

Megumi was sleeping in such uncomfortable position, his head resting on the edge of your bed. He appeared peaceful, almost childlike, devoid of his usual stoic demeanor.

Your heartstrings were tugged at this rare sight. He also sustained injuries and yet... he was waiting for you to wake up, here.

Your chest swelled with warmth, which was quickly followed by a sting of heartbreak. Still, you two broke up...

You jolted, and the inadvertent movement sent a wave of pain that seemed to paralyze your nerves, causing you to whimper. The noise woke Megumi from his slumber, as he shot his eyes open in alarm, catching your hand in his.

"Hey... Are you okay?" Megumi worriedly looked down at you with a visible frown, and the grimace of pain on your face, accompanied by trembling lips, was enough of an answer. He hastily scrambled out in slight panic, "I'll get Ieiri-san."

When Shoko came and got you the painkillers, your pain receded somewhat. Through it all, Megumi stood there, casting concerned glances in your way.

"Bedrest for the week," Shoko stated firmly, assessing your wound with a no-nonsense expression. "Your injury isn't minor—it's serious enough that you're strongly advised against excessive movement."

You could only nod in response. Megumi bowed. "Thank you, Ieiri-san." Once the doctor departed, silence settled over the room once more.

“Why did you do that?” he quietly asked then, referring to what you did for him. And when you turned to him, you saw it clearly.

He looked pale, and there was this haunted look in his eyes. It broke your heart a little.

"You were hurt." Your voice came out dry, and you realized firsthand just how parched you were. Seeing Megumi looking down never quite sat right with you. He was meant to be an unwavering presence, someone strong enough to sway your convictions.

However, a pang struck when he countered with stern eyes, "You didn't have to do that."

...he was right. You didn't have to. What he didn't know was that you were still holding on these stupid feelings, which drove you to shield him. It made you ponder: if your roles were reversed, would he not step in to protect you at all?

"Why are you here?" You weren't sure if the bitterness in your tone was evident, but you continued anyway. "You don't have to be here either."

"Don't have to?" His gaze bore disbelief, as if not believing your words. "I'm—"

"If it's because I saved you, Megumi—"

“Do not even think, even for a moment, that I won’t be concerned over you.” His voice, deep and hoarse, struck you to the core, silencing your words. “Never. I always, always want you to be safe.”

Your mind became a blank slate. Suddenly, all that mattered was his voice.

"Don't you realize how terrifying it was? Seeing you like that?" Megumi spat, his green eyes shining with intensity, teeth gritted and fists clenched. "How could you even think that I wouldn't be here—" his breath hitched, and then his lips trembled slightly, "—for you?"

You blinked quickly, a feeling stirred within you—stemming from that cursed, fragile heart of yours to be exact, evident from the rapid thumping in your chest.

You dumbly uttered, "But we are—"

"Oh, Goddamnit." Megumi cursed, and honestly you were taken aback. It wasn't really in him to swear, so this really bugged him. He ran a hand through his hair in frustration, and despite the situation, your heart skipped a beat at the sight. Even a mess in a hospital gown, your ex-boyfriend was still undeniably attractive.

He stared at you squarely in the eye, unflinching, steadfast and true, the very image of Fushiguro Megumi you admired from afar and fell in love with in the first place half a year ago. "You don't have to... say anything, if you don't want to. Right now... just hear me out."

And the things he said next... all of them, you could say, caught you entirely off guard.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry for not trying hard enough, and—damn it, for making you sad. I never, ever wanted to see you that upset."

Megumi drew in a sharp breath, averting his gaze. "And for days, I've wondered if you and Hakari-senpai are now a thing... and you know what? I hate it so much. I know I have no grounds to feel this way, after what I did, but..."

And like a train wreck, his final words hit you hard. Tears welled up in your eyes in immediate response.

“I'm a loser, and a coward too, maybe,” he shrugged, a tinge of self-deprecation in his tone. “And I suck at telling people my feelings, but I love you. I still do.”

A sob slipped out of your throat and you hastily pulled the blanket over your face, much to his surprise. He thought he had worsened things, with the way you were turning away from him.

But then, from beneath the blanket, in a croaky voice, you proclaimed, "Fushiguro Megumi, you're a complete and utter idiot."

And Megumi didn't know that he had been holding back his breath as he chuckled heartily, relieved that you would still take his ass back after this prolonged mess. He knew he still had a lot to make up for and was determined to show it through his actions.

"Maybe I am, yeah."

"That's possibly the longest shit you have ever spouted in one breath."

"Yeah..."

But he got his chance back, and he knew that you would be alright. Both of you are.

On one sunny day...

"Hey, are you alone?"

Megumi glanced up from his phone, only to be met with a random girl standing in front of him, batting her eyelashes with an ambiguous intent. He blinked at her curiously.

"No. Can I help you?"

The girl twirled her hair suggestively. "Ah, you see... I see you all in your lonesome and I think you're quite cute—"

The hell? Megumi frowned, and he was really about to give this bimbo a piece of his mind when—

Oh, oh. Forget that. Megumi's attention snapped to you on the opposite side of the crossroad. All pretty and dolled up with that crop tee and miniskirt he once mentioned would look great on you by a slip of tongue—that accidental comment earned him your teasing quips for weeks already.

"Sorry, I'm here for my girlfriend. Bye."

Abruptly dismissing the girl, he didn't catch how comically offended she was for being turned down in a span of 20 seconds. He took big strides towards you, as you crossed the street, and you immediately beamed when you caught the sight of his face.

"Megumi!"

Ah, this is going to be a good day, he thought. As he gazed at your pretty face, and caught your hand in his, clasping it tightly, reveling in your scent and the warmth of your presence beside him—

He was content, and once again it dawned on him, that he likes you so, so damn much.

"Let's get started on our date, shall we?"

[appocalipse]

the same thing ・❥・b. barnes

summary: during a mission, you put yourself in harm's way to protect bucky. back at the avengers compound, he wants to know why. | 1.4k words, angst with a happy ending

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

"You should be resting."

You don't turn your head as the familiar voice comes from behind you, too focused on the delicate art of making the perfect sandwich to look away. You are a woman on a mission. "I was hungry."

A few seconds later, he's standing next to you, leaning back against the countertop with arms folded across his broad chest. "It's been less than twelve hours since they patched you up."

He's not going to stop hovering, you realize, because that's what Bucky does when he's worried.

"Want half?" Maybe you can distract him with food.

He regards the towering monstrosity on the cutting board and the chaotic layers of meat, cheese, and veggies sticking out at all angles.

You can't help but grin as you slap another slice of bread on top. "A quarter, then?"

Bucky has the audacity to look offended. "I'm not eating that thing."

You cradle the plate in your left hand, holding the sandwich with your right, and give him a pointed look. "Your loss."

Bucky just watches, arms still crossed, as you take a huge bite. His blue eyes remain narrowed, his mouth pressed into a thin line. He's like a one-man intervention waiting to happen. You shrug and wander over to the kitchen table.

Sitting down is a bit of an effort. The wound on your side pulls as you slowly lower yourself onto the chair, but if you can keep from grimacing too hard, Bucky won't be able to tell, will he?

Your smile probably gives you away. He narrows his eyes further. "Why did you do that?"

"Because I'm hungry?"

"No." Bucky takes a step forward. "I meant why did you get between me and that shot?"

Good question. The answer is embarrassing and you'd sooner walk barefoot over hot coals than tell him the truth.

"Hm?"

Another step. "I have superhuman healing powers."

"I'll live."

"It was stupid."

"You're ruining my—ow," you mutter, dropping the sandwich as you instinctively put your hand over your bandage. There goes the carefully maintained poker face. You force yourself to remove your hand and look up at Bucky with what you hope is an innocent expression, even as your side throbs in protest. "My sandwich. You're ruining my sandwich. Are you sure you don't want a bite?"

Bucky is too smart to take the bait. He moves around the table, coming to stand in front of you. The whole 'arms-crossed-stern-glare' thing again. It would be intimidating if you didn't know him so well.

"You could've been killed," he's like a dog with a bone, you swear.

"But I wasn't," you say pointedly. "I'm fine."

"Fine? You were shot."

"Will you just let it go? It doesn't even...hurt...that much," you lie.

It will take a while for the super-soldier serum in your blood — a weaker variation of the same stuff that runs through Bucky's veins — to kick in and accelerate your healing.

Bucky exhales. He looks about ready to give you an earful, but then his gaze shifts and he notices the way you're holding your side, how stiffly you're sitting.

You move your traitorous hand away like you've been burned.

"How bad is it?"

"Huh?" you say in a deliberately casual tone. "It's...totally fine. Not bad, really. Don't worry. I don't even feel it."

There's the reason why you've never been a spy. You can't lie to save your life, apparently.

Or maybe just not to Bucky.

"Okay. It hurts, like, just a little bit...like—like not even hurts hurts, just..." you trail off with a grimace as he comes closer. "More of an itch?"

"An itch?" Bucky sounds dubious.

"More of a burn," you concede. "A...mildly annoying but totally manageable sort of a burn."

"You are a terrible liar."

"Okay, so it hurts," you snap, the last vestiges of your patience vanishing. "I have an extensive hole in my side, I get it. It's not—I don't want you to feel bad about it. It's really not terrible, I can take it."

Bucky shakes his head. "What if it had been worse? What if they'd shot you somewhere vital?"

"They didn't."

"But what if they had?"

"Then I would have died!"

Bucky looks at you like you just kicked him. "Yeah. That's what I'm trying to say."

You open your mouth, then close it.

"You think I want that?" he asks softly.

"No." You suddenly feel very small. "Of course not, I just...just..."

"Just what?"

"I don't know," you admit with a sigh. "It's just that you are...people need you, you know? And you have a life, people who care about you, but I'm just..."

A nobody. A girl with no past, who can barely make sense of her present.

"...it would be better if it was me. That's all."

"It would never be better if you were hurt."

"Bucky—"

"You don't get it, do you?" he asks in a low voice. "People need you too."

You roll your eyes. "Please. You mean the team?"

"Me," Bucky says pointedly. "You think it's easy for me? When you get hurt? It kills me."

The sandwich lays forgotten on the table, squashed flat under your clasped hands. "It...kills you?"

He just looks at you for a long moment.

Your heart flutters in your chest. You have a sudden, intense urge to break the silence with a terrible joke, a quip, something light and witty to dispel the heaviness in the air and make this moment go away. But before you can open your mouth, Bucky shakes his head.

"You kill me."

Okay, that's not where you thought this was going. "What?"

"When you say stuff like that. When you make it sound like you don't matter, like it's okay for you to get hurt. Or worse. It's not."

Oh.

"Bucky," you try again, with a more serious tone. "I don't—"

"Stop saying that," he cuts you off.

You realize your mouth is still hanging open and snap it shut.

"You want to know what I think?" Bucky is so close now you could reach out and touch him, if you were brave enough. "I think that you got this...thing in your head, that you're not good enough, or strong enough, or that you're broken somehow. I think that you forget that it's okay to want things. I think that maybe you think nobody needs you. That no one wants you."

You swallow. You're afraid to say anything, to move, because your heart is hammering against your ribs and Bucky is looking at you like he can see straight into your soul.

"But I do."

"Do...what?" you whisper.

"Want you."

It's the last thing you expect to hear. "Bucky, you don't mean that."

His voice drops an octave. "Don't tell me what I mean."

Your cheeks are burning. You feel pinned under his gaze. Your side is throbbing again and you have a mouthful of butterflies and it's all just too much.

You move to get up but only make it halfway before the wound pulls again and you wince. "Shit."

"Where do you think you're going?" Bucky reaches out to help you, one hand braced against your shoulder as you sink back down into the chair. His expression has softened. "You need to rest."

You really want to kiss him right now.

It's the closest he's ever been to you, perhaps. You can feel his breath on your face.

"I need to...? You really confuse me, Barnes."

"How so?"

"Well, first you tell me that I kill you, and then you say you want me. It's kind of a mixed message—"

"I'm not interested in being just friends with you," Bucky cuts you off abruptly. "Is that clear enough?"

Your lips part but nothing comes out. There's a warm, tingling sensation in your chest and you suddenly can't breathe properly. "That's—you—"

Bucky smirks, just a little. He looks almost...proud of himself? Like he's happy he's rendered you speechless for once.

You decide to take a page from his book and put him on the spot. "And what do you think I want?"

"I don't know," he murmurs, leaning even closer. "But I hope it's the same thing."

His lips brush against yours, soft and gentle. He pulls away and you want to chase after him but then he's back again and kissing you harder this time, all teeth and tongue and ragged breathing and heat.

You close your eyes. Your head is spinning and you can't get enough air but you're kissing him back now, both hands coming up to fist in his shirt, holding on for dear life.

His mouth trails down your neck, leaving hot kisses along your jawline. You let out a breathy sigh.

"Is that...supposed to help me heal faster, mhm?"

Bucky just smiles against your skin.

[lovelybucky1]

Dress Up (Logan x Reader)

warnings: AFAB!reader, mutant!reader, age gap, consumption of alcohol, mentions of sex, mentions of corruption kink, 18+ minors dni

masterlist

To call it a schoolgirl crush would be an insult. You're not a schoolgirl anymore; you aged out of Xavier's program a couple years ago. However, you are still young and to anyone else, you'd look like an innocent young woman. To Logan, the object of your desires and your teammate, you're naive little girl.

You've been trying to get his attention for weeks. He's gruff and grumpy, but you know he has a good heart. He cares, just from a distance. He's not one for small talk and you feel like it's impossible to break the ice with him. You get it, he doesn't want to talk to some kid he has nothing in common with, but it still frustrates you.

You enlisted the help of Rogue to learn more about him. He likes to drink and smoke and to sit in brooding silence by the fireplace. All things you already knew. You were driving yourself crazy, thinking of ways to get close to him, and in a last-ditch effort, you decided to get a little bold.

You dressed up to the point where you didn't even recognize yourself. You did your hair, put on some dark makeup, a low-cut top, and rehearsed your lines in the mirror. You looked grown up. This should do the trick.

You find Logan at the counter in the kitchen with a glass and a bottle of amber liquid sitting in front of him. Taking a deep breath, you walk up beside him.

"Mind if I join you?" you ask.

Logan tilts his head slightly to look at you before returning his gaze to the middle-distance.

"Knock yourself out."

Wordlessly, you sit on the stool next to him. You're not sure if he feels awkward too, but the tension is suffocating. You reassure yourself that you can do this, and maybe a little liquid courage would help.

The bottle of whiskey sits between the two of you and you eye it nervously. You're not much of a drinker; Charles is pretty strict about stuff like that. Before you can talk yourself out of it, you grab the bottle and take a too-big mouthful. The taste is awful, it burns going down your throat, and you have to prevent yourself from gagging. Smooth.

"Woah," Logan says, turning to look at you with furrowed brows. "What's with you, kid?"

You don't really know what to say to that. "I'm head-over-heels, stupid in love with you and you won't give me the time of day?' Yeah, no thanks. Instead, you focus on how that word grates on you.

"I'm not a kid," you say, looking back at him.

"What?"

"I'm not a kid. I'm a legal adult," you clarify. Just to make a point, you take another swig from the bottle and instantly regret it.

Logan huffs a laugh. "And that means your all grown up, right?"

He's teasing you and you're not sure how to handle that.

"I am grown up," you insist.

"Sure you are. Is that why you put on this little costume?" he asks, his eyes flicking down to your exposed chest for a split second before returning to meet yours.

"It's not a costume," you say, not able to keep the slight whine out of your voice.

“You're a good girl. You shouldn't be sittin' here with me, dressed like that."

You look down at your lap, feeling silly for putting on this act that he clearly saw right through.

“I just wanted your attention,” you mutter.

“Trust me, you don’t want that.”

You look up at him with a pout on your lips that he can’t stop himself from looking at. “I do want it.”

“Doll,” he starts, and that pet name gives you butterflies. “You think I don’t notice you? You’ve had my attention for weeks, but nothing good would come from gettin’ involved with me.”

Your eyes widen at his confession.

“I don’t care what happens. I want you,” you whisper.

“You’re so young…” he says, matching your volume.

“You’re just an old man.”

Logan cracks a small smile at that, but it quickly falls into a more serious expression. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You can’t hurt me.”

“I’m sure I’d find a way,” he says.

You know he means it as a waring. A way to tell you to run the hell away from him as far as you can, but to your twisted brain, it makes you want him even more.

Feeling emboldened by his words, you slide off your stool and step close to him. Your chest is almost brushing against his as you stand between his spread thighs. He raises his eyebrows at you a bit.

"If we're gonna do this, no more of these little outfits," he says. "I like the good girl look on you better."

"Yes, sir," you mumble.

Logan makes a small growl in the back of his throat. "You're gonna be the death of me, ain't you, doll?"

"I hope not, old man," you giggle.

Logan possessively grabs ahold of your hips, his fingers gripping the soft flesh. "Can I kiss you?" he asks.

"Please, Logan."

He tugs you forward so your chest is leaned against his, and he kisses you hard and with passion, like he's held himself back from doing this for so long. It feels so good to kiss him, even better than you've imagined so many times before. It feels like the two of you kiss for hours, though it wasn't really more than a couple seconds.

When the kiss breaks, Logan is breathless. "Please tell me that wasn't your first kiss."

"It wasn't," you reassure, "but if this goes any further..." you look at him with a small smirk.

Logan growls again. "Of fuckin' course you're a virgin."

Despite being a mutant, Logan is still just a man. He only has so much self control, especially when being tested by a pretty young thing he can corrupt.