#one day. i will change that tag. but that day is not today.

[aquaticmercy]

Waste a Moment / Part 8

Summary : Bucky had always kept his distance, but seeing you get hurt on a mission changed everything. For the first time, he has a chance to start over with you.

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x avenger!reader (she/her) 

Warnings/tags : Mentions of food. Cursing. Memory loss. Head injury. Reader used to work in a museum. Descriptions of sex (not graphic)

Requested by :  @remoony

Word count : 3.9k

Note : Loved the new Thunderbolts trailer. I am so excited to see Buck and Yelena interact in MCU canon! I will also be posting a thunderbolts! Bucky one shot soon so keep your eyes peeled! Also I know I uploaded yesterday but I have this locked and loaded and ready to go so this chapter’s early! 🫶

Series Masterlist

"Cursed By the Crown"

Friday.

You had already left the compound, exhausted from the day’s session. Bucky had stayed behind, as he often did, cleaning up the equipment and keeping to himself.

Yelena leaned on the doorway, watching him for a moment.

“Up for a spar?” Her tone was light, though her eyes had a stormy darkness to them.

Bucky exhaled, not even looking up. “It’s late.”

“Oh, come on.” She sauntered in, shrugging off her jacket and rolling her shoulders, settling into a loose stance. “Scared, Barnes?”

He shook his head, though his eyes never met hers. “Fine,” he said, almost to himself, moving into a ready position.

Bucky tightened his fists, his knuckles cracking under the pressure.

They began circling each other, slowly, like predators circling prey.

Yelena struck first, swift and precise. 

He blocked it, barely, the impact reverberating up his arm.

Yelena was relentless today. She pivoted, her leg sweeping out in a low arc, forcing him to jump back. She didn’t give him time to reset; she was on him again, fists flying in a controlled, practiced fury.

“You know, before she lost her memory,” Yelena’s voice emerged between punches, “she always thought you hated her.”

Bucky’s eyes widened.

She capitalized on it, her fist slamming into his ribs. He gasped, the pain sharp and immediate.

He forced himself to push back, retaliating with a swift punch aimed at her shoulder. 

She staggered back. 

“Now’s not the time,” he growled.

She threw another punch, this one grazing his jaw, just over the bruise you had given him when you punched him in your sleep. 

Yelena ignored his warning.

“You pushed her away. You were cold. Distant,” she said, words punctuated by each blow she landed, as if each strike was meant to drive home her accusation. 

Bucky could feel his temper rising, a familiar rage simmering beneath his touch skin.

Bucky caught her wrist with his metal arm mid-punch and twisting it, but careful not to break it. He shoved her back, but only for her to use the momentum to spring up again, her heel catching him across the jaw in a brutal arc. 

He could taste the metallic tang of blood from his lip, but he didn’t back down.

“Stop it,” he snapped. But she ignored him, her strikes coming harder. Faster.

“But you were always so protective of her,” she continued as she threw another punch, this one catching his shoulder. “Even when you pretended not to care, you watched over her. You noticed everything— the way she liked her coffee. Her favourite colour, the way she played with the ends of her hair when she was nervous.” She landed another blow, a quick jab to his gut that left him gasping. “Everyone noticed how much you cared. Everyone but her. But you pushed her away.”

Bucky swallowed, barely managing to hold back the waves of emotion threatening to break the surface. 

This time, he punched harder, knowing Yelena wasn’t going to hold back. 

He brought his knees up to her head. He didn’t put enough force to give her a concussion, but enough to draw blood from her forehead. 

Yelena blocked a hit from his human arm.

“Don’t tell her,” he said abruptly, his voice harsher than he intended.

“Why not?” She gripped his forearm.

He broke free, striking a punch that she couldn’t dodge, throwing her off balance. 

“I don’t want her to think of me like that,” Bucky replied.

Yelena’s eyebrows furrowed. 

“She’s not going to remember it on her own, Barnes.” Her knee shot up, catching him in the side. He staggered back, pain flaring through his ribs. “You’re the only one who can tell her how you were before and why.”

He blocked her next punch, gripping her arm tightly. He shoved her back.

Yelena stumbled, but she recovered quickly.

“What good is it going to do?” he bit out in frustration.

“If you don’t tell her, you’re going to carry that guilt forever,” she hissed. She aimed a punch at his jaw, but he ducked, countering with a brutal blow to her side. She gasped, wincing in pain. “N-not everybody—“ she spat a bit of blood on the mat— “It’s not everyday you get a second chance like this.”

“Second chances?” he echoed, throwing a punch that she narrowly avoided. “You want to talk to me about second chances, Belova?”

He watched as her usually flawless stance faltered.

“Sam told me,” he continued, his words venomous. “That you were too scared to see her. That you locked yourself up and whined and cried or whatever you did— when she was dying.”

Yelena’s face paled, her fists curling at her sides. Bucky saw the hurt behind her eyes, and maybe even a familiar guilt that followed him, too.

Yelena’s expression faltered. She opened her mouth to protest, but Bucky cut her off, putting another jab at the sides.

“At least I was there,” he said, his voice a mixture of frustration and pain as he dodged a side kick. “I sat by her bedside. I watched watched her fight just to breathe. I couldn’t— wouldn’t want her to be alone when she woke up. You think it was easy, watching her hooked up to all those machines just to stay alive?”

The words hit their mark; Yelena flinched as Bucky caught her in a headlock. Lucky for her, she knew how to outsmart a stronger opponent. She reached over in a desperate attempt to jab a finger close to his eyes as she could without blinding him.

When she broke free of his grip, she landed a vicious punch to his ribs, hard enough to make him double over.

“You think I didn’t want to be there?” she shouted, her voice cracked. She struck again, her fist connecting with his jaw, splitting the skin just below his cheekbone. Blood trickled down his face, mingling with the salty sting of sweat. “I couldn’t— I couldn’t lose another sister.”

“Excuses,” Bucky stumbled before catching himself. “I might have been cold. I might have kept my distance. But when she ran out of the compound, I tracked her. I offered her a place to stay. I was there when it mattered.”

“It’s doesn’t matter if I hurt her now,” Yelena’s voice rose now, almost a scream. “I am nothing. A friend, at most. I’m no longer a sister to her because she doesn’t fucking remember!” She took a breath, shoving Bucky down to the mat. “But you? You should hear the way she talks about you, Bucky. It’s like you hung the stars for her.”

He got up and turned away, chest heaving. 

He was done. 

Done with Yelena’s accusations. Her demands. Her criticism.

Mostly because he knew she was right.

Before he could storm out, she grabbed his arm, forcing him to face her again, her eyes ablaze with a mixture of hurt and desperation.

“If she finds out that I wasn’t there, it wouldn’t fucking matter,” she spat, her voice trembling in her Russian accent, dripping thicker now that she was shaking. “But if she finds out about you? It would break her. Because right now, you mean more to her than I ever did. Or ever could.”

Bucky’s breath caught, the words hitting harder than any punch she’d thrown. 

“You don’t get it,” he muttered, his voice barely a whisper, his gaze fixed on the floor.

Yelena’s grip tightened.

“No, you don’t get it,” she snapped, “She deserves to know who she’s falling in love with. All of you. Not just the parts you think are good enough for her.”

She’s falling in love with me? 

His fists loosened, his shoulders slumped. He looked at her swollen lip, her cut forehead, and realised what he’d done.

Yelena took a shaky breath, stepping back, but her gaze didn’t waver. “Just… think about it,” she pleaded.

She turned and walked away, leaving him standing there, alone. 

Bucky watched her, his face smeared with blood.

His blank stare flooded his mind back with memories—the moments where he had pushed you away, where he had convinced himself he wasn’t good enough for you, that you deserved someone better.

But now, he had a clean slate. He could be the person he always wanted to be for you. 

Maybe Yelena was right. Maybe he should tell you. But for now, he kept it to himself, wondering if he was making a mistake.

—

The door creaked open in your apartment.

Bucky tried to slip in quietly, but the minute you heard his footsteps, you emerged from the kitchen. You saw him standing near the small lamp, bruised and bloodied.

Your heart leapt into your throat, rushing over immediately.

“Bucky!” you gasped. You saw his split lip, the bruising above his cheekbone, the cuy along his jawline. He stood there, looking like he wanted the walls to swallow him whole.

You reached for him, guiding him toward the couch.

“What happened?” you asked, hands fluttering over his injuries as if you could somehow will them to disappear. The fear in your voice made him drop his gaze, his jaw clenching before he answered.

“Yelena,” he said, dismissively quick. “We were just sparring.” He tried to brush it off, but you knew Bucky’s little tells now— the way his eyebrows knitted when he had a lot on his mind. 

You eyed the bruises and the dried blood on his knuckles. “Just sparring?” you frowned. “You shouldn’t be training this… violently.”

He huffed, a weak smile tugging at his lips that didn’t reach his eyes. He started to say something, maybe to brush it off again, but the concern on your face made him go quiet.

You grabbed the first-aid kit Bruce had left— since he had been showing you teaching you basics over the last few days— you know, how to tend to a bullet wound. How to dislodge an arrow safely. 

He watched you open the box. His breath hitched as you rifled through it, muttering under your breath about “reckless idiots” and “grown ass spies who should know better.” Every so often, you glanced up, checking him with worried eyes.

He realized then just how much you truly cared. Just how deeply your concern ran. 

She looks at you like you hung the stars for her, Yelena had said. 

For the first time in a long time, he let himself be cared for—really cared for, not as a soldier, not as a mission.

“Maybe… I’ll have to talk to her about going easy on you,” you murmured with a small, gentle smile.

Never, he thought to himself, Yelena will never go easy on me. Not if I don’t tell you.

You pulled out antiseptic wipes and gauze, pulling him down on the cushions, letting him place his duffel bag on the floor. 

You kneeled down in front of him, taking his face in your hands with a tenderness that made his heart skip a beat. He felt the gentle kindness in your touch, the careful way you pressed against each wound.

“Hold still,” you whispered. You could see the vulnerability in his eyes. It was so unexpected that it sent your heart racing a thousand miles an hour.

Your fingers brushed the cut on his jaw, sending a dull ache through his skin, though he didn’t flinch. He just watched you, eyes tracing every line of your face. He studied the determination in your eyes, the way your lips parted in focus as you pressed the fabric against his swollen lip.

He felt his pulse race, fighting back the urge to reach for you.

You were so close, so painfully close.

You were so kind, partly because you didn’t know— didn’t know how he treated you then.

But now, you were looking at him with that delicate stare, with a warmth that felt like forgiveness for sins you didn’t even remember… it was too much. 

And fuck, he was so deeply, desperately in love with you. Every careful touch of your hands, every time your eyes met his— it made his chest ache.

He knew he had to have you now. Before Yelena could take you away from him.

Before Yelena could ruin this.

The words escaped him, hoarse, almost a whisper. 

“Kiss me.”

Your hands froze, your eyes widened. 

The words echoed in your mind. Time felt like it had slowed to a stop, your thoughts scrambled.

You had wanted this—wanted him—for so long, but had always held back. You did not want to cross that line.

But now… now, he was asking you to, almost pleading.

He swallowed, suddenly fearing he’d overstepped. 

But before he could apologize or take the words back, you leaned in, crashing your lips on to his, mindful of the bruise he had.

He was hesitant at first, waiting for you to pull back, to change your mind. When you didn’t, when you wrapped your arms around his neck, his restraint shattered.

His hands moved to your waist, pulling you closer.

Your lips deepened into his, turning desperate, urgent, and he drank every part of you in. His metal hand roamed up your back, pressing against you as though he were trying to memorize every curve, every inch of you. 

Your fingers slid into his hair, and he groaned low in his throat. He sounded rough, needy. His hands found your waist, pulling you on his lap. You straddled him, inching closer. He felt your heartbeat against his chest, wild and frantic, just like his.

You grew hungrier, his mouth moving against yours with a fierce, aching desperation that left him dizzy. He found himself lost in you, his hands gripping you tighter, scared that you would slip away.

“I don’t know if I loved you then,” You broke away just long enough to gasp, “but I love you now.”

Bucky’s breath hitched as he pressed his forehead against yours. 

Yours. He thought. I am yours now. No matter what Yelena says.

“I love you too,” he murmured, his voice barely more than a ragged whisper.

For a moment, nothing else existed but the two of you, the world slipping away as he kissed again.

It was rougher this time, his hands slipping beneath the hem of your shirt, feeling the warmth of your skin beneath his human fingers. You arched into his touch, gasping, and he kissed the hollow of your throat, breathing in the scent of you, feeling the way you clung to him.

And then, through the haze, a thought crept in, sharp and unwelcome, cutting through the bliss.

She deserves to know who she’s falling in love with, Yelena had said.

His hands stilled, the words rattling in his mind. He couldn’t ignore the truth—he was selfishly keeping you in the dark, shielding you from his mistakes, his regrets. 

He knew, deep down, that Yelena was right. 

But as you looked at him, eyes half-lidded and love drunk, fingers tracing his jaw lovingly, he couldn’t bring himself to shatter the moment. 

He cupped your face, brushing his thumb along your cheek, pulling you back into another kiss. It was soft this time, as if you were fragile. He thought could bury the guilt in the taste of you, and it did, if only for a while.

For now, he would keep this to himself, whatever the cost. He would let himself have this piece of you, even if it meant carrying the weight of the past alone.

Because, holding you like this, witnessing your love, he knew he’d sacrifice anything to keep you in his arms. 

Monday. 

The morning dawned in soft, golden light spilling through your curtains, and the warmth of it brought a gentle wakefulness that was better than any alarm. 

You were still tucked in Bucky’s arms. Even in sleep, he had held you close.

You stayed there for a few moments, enjoying the quiet before the day began, feeling his heartbeat strong and steady under your cheek.

You gently stirred, and Bucky’s arm tightened slightly.

His eyes slowly fluttered open to meet yours. Still hazy with sleep and a little unfocused, a small, sleepy smile pulled at his lips. 

For a while, he just looked at you. He had a tender quiet, tender awe in his expression that made your heart skip. His hand brushed lightly through your hair, his thumb tracing soft, absent-minded patterns against your shoulder as if he were memorizing the feel of you there beside him.

"Good morning," he murmured, his voice still thick and warm from sleep.

You smiled. "Good morning."

"I hope last night was… okay." There was a slight pink to his cheeks, as if he hadn’t quite processed what happened.

Last night had begun slowly. 

It had started with soft, teasing kisses, and grew heated, electric. His hands began to explore, gliding down your back. The need was there—gentle yet unmistakable. 

Each touch had been a gentle question, asking if you wanted him to keep going, and each time, your answer had come in the way you tugged him closer, the way your hands wandered over his skin, over his metal arm as if it was flesh and bone.

As you moved to the bed, his lips found their way down your neck. He had pressed slow, tender kisses that left you trembling, soft gasps escaping your mouth. His hands had traveled down your sides. He had to let you feel how long he had wanted this for, yet never rushing.

The two of you had found a rhythm that felt like it was only yours and yours alone. You had laid there with him, moving together in a seamless, gentle flow. His gaze hadn’t left yours, even as his breaths grew heavier and his grip tightened. He had needed you to know how much he wanted you.

Your fingers had threaded through his hair, his name a soft whisper on your lips as you both grasped for each other’s high.

After cleaning and washing up, you had laid in your his and drifted off to sleep. The concrete had fallen on you in your dreams again, but this time you had been calm. This time, you had known it was going to pass. 

“It was more than okay,” you whispered, leaning closer, feeling his fingers tighten around you in response. 

Shyly, you gave a chaste kiss on his lips.

He returned it with a gentle smile.

Eventually, you both made your way to the kitchen, the usual morning routine feeling new and intimate now. 

He brewed coffee while you prepped breakfast, and though you both moved around in comfortable silence.

Every time you reached for something on the counter, his hand would brush against yours, and every time, he’d give you a playful grin.

After breakfast, he grabbed his jacket and raised an eyebrow. “Want to take a walk?”

The air outside was fresh with the early morning scent of dew on grass. The two of you walked side by side, his fingers brushing against yours with a sweet, hesitant touch, as if he were testing the waters. Finally, he slipped his hand into yours. 

You felt your cheeks warming, but you laced your fingers together without hesitation. 

Wednesday.

You woke up in Bucky’s arms again, and that night, the nightmares didn’t even come for you.

You did your morning routine, opting for a walk a little closer to lunch.

He pulled you into a tiny bookstore nestled into the corner of a quiet street, the cozy little shop bathed in soft, amber light and filled with the scent of dusty old pages. You wandered through the aisles, hands still entwined, occasionally stopping to point out interesting titles or laugh at the oddball covers on some of the paperbacks. 

He picked out a book that you loved, holding it out with an encouraging smile. “This one’s supposed to be great,” he said, the excitement in his voice contagious.

“Oh, really?” you replied, grinning as you took the book and added it to your stack. 

The walk back to your place was even better, both of you lost in soft laughter as he pointed out small things around the neighborhood you’d only noticed noticed now—a tiny coffee shop you’d walked by countless times, a mural tucked behind an old theater.

Back at your apartment, you settled on the couch, sipping water as you thumbed through the pages of your new book. Bucky leaned back beside you, stretching an arm around your shoulders, and you leaned into him without a second thought. 

His fingers traced gentle patterns on your shoulder as you read, and it took everything in you to keep your focus on the words in front of you, though you found yourself glancing over at him every few minutes, catching him watching you with that soft, steady gaze.

“Something on your mind?” you teased, nudging him slightly.

“Yeah,” he replied, his voice soft, sincere. “Just… you.” His words were so earnest that you felt yourself melt, unable to keep from smiling as you leaned in closer, your head resting on his shoulder.

The evening drifted in, you’d both fallen into a comfortable routine of watching a movie after dinner, and tonight was no different. As the movie started, Bucky wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close against him.

Halfway through, he leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. You looked up as he brushed a strand of hair from your face before pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, then your nose, and finally, your lips. It was a sweet, lingering kiss, slow and filled with an unspoken promise that made your heart ache in the best way.

You settled back against him, resting your head on his chest.

“I could get used to this,” he murmured.

“Me too,” you whispered.

Sunday.

Some nights, in the last couple of days, Bucky would find himself wide awake, sitting in silence on the edge of the bed, watching you sleep. The room was steeped in darkness, but there was just enough moonlight to illuminate the soft rise and fall of your chest.

The sight of you in gentle slumber, after all those weeks of struggling with the nightmares, should have reassured him, should have brought him comfort. But instead, it made his heart ache with a strange longing. 

Regret.

He sat there, hunched forward. Often, his hands clasped tightly together. His mind would wander, as it usually did in these quiet hours.

It drifted to the way he’d been with you before. Cold. Guarded. Pushing you away, convincing himself that he was doing the right thing by keeping his distance. 

He’d been so convinced you’d be better off without him, that he was doing you a favor by holding back, by shutting you out whenever you got too close.

But now… now you were giving him a second chance without even knowing it.

He wondered, night after night, if he was good enough for you now.

He couldn’t quite shake the fear that he was still falling short. That, one day, you’d remember everything, and this fragile happiness he’d found would shatter.

Part of him wanted to tell you, to open up, to confess everything about the person he’d been. The part of him that wanted you to know the truth, even if it hurt, even if it meant risking what he had with you now. But every time he got close to imagining what that conversation might look like, he’d stop himself. He would imagine your face filled with hurt, with betrayal.

Could he be the person you thought he was without telling you the truth about who he’d been?

-to be continued...

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[sloanesallow]

twenty

Sebastian is forgetting something.... (I wrote this in one go, mostly because I forgot at the last moment that I head-canon Sebastian's birthday as being today (ish, it's now past midnight), November 8th. Yes, I made him a triple Scorpio. He's more fun that way.) Sebastian Sallow x F!MC (Siobhan Sloane) Tags: Sappy. A crumb of sadness. >1k words [Ao3] | [Wattpad] | [Tumblr Masterlist]

Sebastian is still working at his makeshift desk on Level Two when the clock strikes midnight. He pays the chiming bells little attention, scribbling away with his quill to finish the stack of reports his goblin supervisors at Gringots want handed over in the morning. Not so long ago, he would scoff at the suggestion of having a goblin as a boss, but Sebastian has come a long way since fifth year and knows how privileged he is to have the position he does. There are still eight more long months left in his internship, but by next summer, he will be a fully-trained curse breaker, ready for a proper field assignment.

He's mid quill-stroke when his ears prick up at the sound of shuffling in the nearby corridor. It's too late for it to be another Ministry employee, and Bigsby the elf has already made his cleaning rounds for the evening. Sebastian furrows his brows, listening as he hears the mystery person knock on the other doors in the hall. Too curious to ignore, he strides over to poke his head out, but when he opens the door he's surprised to see Sloane.

"Girlfriend?" he chirps in surprise, the first word that bounces through his brain and out his mouth.

Sloane suppresses a giggle, her lips curling up in a small smile as she nods. Sebastian steps aside, allowing her to enter the disorganized storage closet the Aurors have repurposed for him to use as an office. He stares at her, blinking several times in disbelief, wondering if he's slipped into some kind of sleep-deprived hallucination.

"What're you doing here?" he asks, grasping her hand and breathing a sigh of relief at the warmth he feels. "Why aren't you in Marseille?"

"Hello to you too, Sebastian," she quips, squeezing his hand as she laces their fingers. "I wanted to surprise you, but you weren't home. Ominis suggested you'd be here, says you're always here."

"Not always," he retorts, eyes still darting across her face and body to identify any subtle changes since he saw her last. It's been one month and thirteen days, and Sloane knows he's been counting. Her hair is a fraction longer, tied in a loose braid that he itches to undo with his fingers.

"It's midnight," she says back and he sheepishly grins. Sloane looks at him pointedly in the way that tells him there's something else, but his mind draws a blank.

"What?"

"Really?"

"Really...what?"

Sloane frowns and Sebastian feels his heart flutter with panic. Lack of sleep is all fun and games until it causes memory loss. He scratches the stubble on his jaw, struggling to recall if he's done anything foolish (more foolish than usual), or forgotten something important. Their anniversary isn't for another few months...unless he's slipped into an errant time experiment from Level Nine.

"Have you truly forgotten?" His girlfriend decides to put him out of his misery, replacing his hand with her own as she cups the side of his face, thumb sweeping across his cheek. "Sebastian, it's your birthday."

He straightens in alarm, eyes wide in realization. Midnight. Wednesday, the eighth of November. His birthday. More significantly, his twentieth birthday. A nice, round number—the true start of adulthood. Sebastian gulps, and wonders if the knot in his stomach is existential dread.

His thoughts drift, and he can't help but feel guilty for not remembering—it isn't just his birthday. Perhaps that's why it's slipped his mind; there's not much of a reason to celebrate getting older when he's still estranged from his twin. It's been years since he saw her last, and even longer since they welcomed a birthday together. The ache in his chest lingers, even as Sloane presses up on her toes to press a soft kiss to his lips.

"I didn't want you to be alone, not today," she whispers, looping her arms around his shoulders when he moves to encircle her in a tight embrace. Sloane may be the only person, besides Ominis, who knows and understands the specific kind of pain this day might bring.

"I'm sorry," she adds and he quietly hushes her, stopping her apology short. It might've been nice to remain blissfully ignorant, but eventually, he'd remember and feel even worse about forgetting later on. For a long moment, he just holds her, thinking for what must be the millionth time about how damn lucky he is to have Sloane in his life, how wonderful it is to love and be loved in return.

"You're here," he breathes, kissing her temple, and then her forehead and nose before smiling against her lips. "I'm so happy you're here."

"Me too."

"For how long?" he murmurs between little kisses, savoring the sensation, knowing he'll miss it when she has to leave again. Stupid Marseille, he thinks, there are plants in England, too. "Do we have time to—"

Sebastian's stomach interrupts his suggestion with a loud gurgle that makes Sloane snicker, her nose crinkling in the way he adores. She playfully scolds him, fingers threading through the hair at the nape of his neck. "When's the last time you ate?"

"Uhh..." he shrugs and steals another peck. "Kisses will suffice."

"Sebastian!" she laughs, not bothering to squirm away. "You need to eat!"

"I agree!" he scoops her up, waggling his eyebrows before latching onto to patch of skin on her neck that makes her mewl. "I'll start with you."

[bibiddibobiddi-boo]

November writing challenge 9

Hello my dearest lambs~ Here you go for a new prompt!

Prompt 9: Robes Obey me Asmodeus x MC

"Hon~ Wake up, sweetie." Asmodeus said as he opened the curtains in MC's room. "Hmm.... What...." MC mumbled as they sat up on their bed. It was too early for them. "Asmo, please go back to bed. It's way too early for the weekend." They murmured as the beautiful demon sat their bed, caressing their cheek and finally pecking their forehead. The demon chuckled as he noticed the adorable human falling back asleep. He moved on the bed and picked up the sleepy human, gently carrying them in his room. He sat down MC on his bed and then disappeared in his closet, before coming back, wearing a robe, another one hanging from his left arm. Asmodeus sat back on the bed as MC rubbed their eyes, chasing the remains of sleep from their eyes, intrigued by their lovely partner's antics. "Put this robe on, we are having a selfcare day." Asmodeus placed the robes in his adorable partner's hands. "I noticed you have been tired because of my brothers, so I want to give you this moment of peace. Just relax today alright?" He murmured lovingly before placing a chaste kiss on MC's lips. They chuckled, that adorable chuckle that had Asmodeus falling all over gain for them. "Thank you, love." The human thanked with a smile then stood up and went to the closet to change as the Avatar of Lust continued: "And tonight, I'll take care of you in my special way~" He said in that silky, seductive tone, hinting at his plans, making MC blush deeply. "ASMODEUS!" They squealed as he laughed.

-----------------------------------------------------------------

tags: to @windblume-wishes this one is for you. I hope this can cheer you up if you ever feel down. Also, not sorry for the end 😋

[storyofmychoices]

There are so many amazing, talented, creative, inspiring, and all around wonderful people in this fandom. There are far too many for me even to mention or count, but I will try to shout out as many people as I can throughout the event.

I know the fandom is shrinking. I know that a lot of beloved old accounts have deactivated or simply been left on the shelf. So many people have left, but still, there are so many that have stayed or joined more recently. This fandom has changed so much in the years I've been in it. Sometimes for the better. Sometimes for worse. But I truly believe there is something special about this fandom and I am glad that each and every one of you are a part of it!

Since I hope to shout out all the amazing creators in future days this week, I am going to use today to focus on supporters!

@lilyoffandoms: You are forever the most wonderful. I can't tell you how much you mean to me. I feel like I say it a lot, but truly, I think the world of you. Your kindness and support has kept me going. I always look forward to your reblogs and comments. Thank you for making me feel loved and supported.

@princess-geek: I am so grateful for your friendship. I know we've both been busy and have had our own struggles to work through, but I know you're always there for me and that means everything.

@trappedinfanfiction: You've been on this journey with me from the beginning. Your constant support and love for my characters is very appreciated. I enjoy your thoughts on my stories and look forward to seeing you in my notifications.

@quixoticdreamer16: You are such an amazing gem. I can't say enough about how grateful I am for all your support of my creations. You are always there to share and encourage me. Your love for my characters is something I cherish. You have been such an amazing supporter and one of the reasons I'm still in this fandom. Your support has kept me going!

@jerzwriter: Thank you for always loving and supporting my sunshine babies and for letting the play with T & C from time to time. I am grateful for your support and encouragement over the years. You've been such a wonderful friend to me.

@dutifullynuttywitch: You are the loveliest. I am so grateful for all the love and support you give me and shower my precious characters with. Your reblogs and comments supporting all of my pairings means so much to me. I truly am grateful for your kindness!

@aallotarenunelma , @peonierose , @kyra75, @liaromancewriter, @missameliep, @rosesnink ; @snoopdogcone and @thosehallowedhalls (love being able to tag you again!): I can't thank you enough for being here and supporting my creations. I know I don't write as nearly as much anymore, but I am truly so so grateful when I see you in my notifications, whether it's a like, comment, and/or reblog, it means everything to me.

@gaiuskamilah: I didn't know I needed the Vampire!Daenarya x Mal AU, but I had so much fun with it, and your reblogs of the art and one shot truly just made my day. Thank you for that!

@rjschoicesstuff: I am so so grateful to have "met" you this year in the fandom. I'll talk more about your art on the art day but you are AMAZING! Thank you for the art requests you've filled for me and for supporting Mal x Daeanrya too!

@trappedinfanfiction, @snoopdogcone, @lilyoffandoms, @princess-geek, @kyra75, @dutifullynuttywitch , @quixoticdreamer16 , @peonyblossom

A special thank you for supporting Thomas and Alex. They are the reason I joined this fandom. They gave me hope when I needed it. They will always have an extra special place in my heart. I know they're not a popular ship, but anytime you interact with them, it truly makes my entire day (not that interactions with other pairings don't, but it's just something different with these two). So thank you!

I feel like I am forgetting people! It is not my intention at all to leave anyone off this list. Thank goodness this event lasts almost a week. Hopefully if I missed you hear, I have you on one of the other posts for the event!

And to anyone who made it this far, I am so very grateful to you for taking the time to read this and to support me. You are a wonderful part of this fandom and I appreciate each and every one of you!

💛

dani

@choicesfandomappreciation

[pancho-pinto]

I think we'll be okay

gift for @lampinnit for @mcyt-trick-or-treat!

Fandom: Dream SMP Words: 1,089 Rating: General Warnings: No Warnings Relationships: Tommy & Tubbo & Ranboo Additional Tags: Tommy-centric, Hanging Out Summary: Tommy hangs out with Tubbo and Ranboo, and nothing really happens. After everything, that's all they can ever want.

fic under cut

Tommy looks at the sky, watching the sun set slowly. 

Ranboo and Tubbo are arguing about something dumb behind him, and the breeze touches his face, drying the sweat on his skin. He can feel the strain on his muscles, the weight of his sword on his hand feels semi-nice. His leather armor is light, and for once, he did not fight for the chance to live another day. 

No, not today. 

At Tubbo’s insistence, they rummaged through abandoned chests, pushed through cobwebs and got dirty under their fingernails looking for spare leather pieces. Worn and old and stained, but enough to make some armor. Their swords were chipped and wobbly, dull from having been inside chests so long, but they did not mind as they pulled them out, raising it to the air in an act of defiance. 

Things change, and one day, things are no longer what they were before. 

It’s still a sword, Tubbo’s words echo as they slashed the air carelessly, Ranboo hurriedly jumping out of the way for safety. Despite everything, it’s still a sword. 

Without its shine or its sharpness, without enchantments or engravings to claim ownership, they are still swords. 

So they grabbed a handful, rattling in their arms as they made their way through ruins. Memories flood their minds, yet the melancholy is replaced with something nicer, sweeter, softer. 

Ranboo gushes over a series they have been writing. Tubbo nonchalantly mentions some machinery capable of reaching the center of the world. And Tommy… Tommy talks about his sheep, a little friend he made a while ago. 

He looks at the horizon and remembers his cottage, something small and easy to keep-up with. For himself and his sheep. And he finds, after a while, that being alone is not so bad. He finds his friends when he wants, no interceptions, no fights. Just a couple hours together to goof around and be stupid. Then he goes home, then he comes back, then he goes home at will. 

He finds breathing easier. He finds existing easier. 

But the sun dips further, and the sky darkens. 

Tonight they will not go home instantly, rather, at Niki’s invitation, they will join her and Jack for supper. 

They do that often too. A couple hours together to eat and be. 

He looks forward to those nights, especially. Sure, being stupid with Tubbo and Ranboo is always nice, but a hearty soup and some warm bread beats anything. All day Niki and Jack would have spent in the kitchen to prepare this meal, and Tommy cannot wait for it. 

“Hey, big man, you alright over there?” Tubbo calls, voice followed by some footsteps. Closer, closer, and Tommy finds himself not flinching. He has not flinched for a while, none of them have. 

“Uh, not that I don’t care, but if you need a moment, maybe you could wait until we get to Niki and Jack’s place?” Ranboo adds, his tone always laced with worry. But there is that purr of an enderman under his voice, jarringly worried as always. “You– You know, mobs will start spawning and, uh, we don’t really– we aren’t really armed for that. Or anything, really.”

“What do you mean?” Tubbo questions, and his sword slashes the air as he unsheaths it. “I’ve my sword! And TNT! We’ll be fine, Ranboo!”

“Absolutely not to the TNT!”

“It’s good. Convenient. Clears up a wide area in a short amount of time. Do you know how well it is at clearing up space? And– And you shouldn’t worry, I have plenty of practice. I am practically an expert at TNT now. A– A TNT techni- tech… technizioner? No, that’s not– TNT techi… cian? TNT technician. That’s it. That.” 

“If Niki– Oh, if Niki finds out we got injured on the way, she’ll be upset! Plus, that’s just plain reckless. And, and– And unnecessary!”

Tubbo thumps with a huff, and Ranboo replies with enderian whizzing. 

These days, Tommy finds that he does not want to insert himself, even in petty, inconsequential squabbles. He finds, too, that watching is enough. Even fun, at times. Ranboo and Tubbo just have clashing personalities, and he is sure he would not trade them for anything in the world. 

They are worth it, after all. Despite it all. 

Tommy sighs, putting on a show of exasperation as he finally turns back to see them in a glare stand-off, and quickly tries to put an annoyed frown. He tries to clench his jaw and grit his teeth, but it hurts too much to hold for more than a second. In place, he crosses his arms. 

“Do you have to fight every time we hang out?”

“It’s not a fight,” Tubbo states with confidence. 

Then Ranboo adds quickly, an almost practiced routine between them, “Just a mere disagreement that will get resolved quickly.”

He rolls in his eyes, then gestures with his head towards the path, “Yeah, right, sure.”

They walk on rickety boards, the path rotting at the edges, vines and weeds slowly crawling over it. But it is familiar, and this is nothing they think about twice anymore. Just a path, the route to take them from one place to another. 

Tommy falls a step behind, allowing himself to reminisce despite knowing he should not. Because the bad comes with the good, but he cannot have the good without the bad, and he knows he is not ready yet to face all the bad like this. There is too much, so much that happened over a very long time, right on this path, this very world. 

He moved away long ago. Ranboo has too. Tubbo is still near. Niki and Jack are still the closest, seemingly able to move on readily. One of these days, he needs to ask them how they have drawn the line so clearly. And one of these days, he hopes he can move on too. 

Maybe he should gather his things and move as far as he can, far in the horizon where no one has been before. A change of scenery, putting distance between his past life and his future life. Start from zero. 

That is an option. 

Go the distance and never look back, that is an option. 

But those are thoughts for another day. For now, he looks back over his shoulder, looking at the spot where their broken swords and ripped leather littered the ground. A final look for tonight, for a moment. 

The sun falling under the horizon behind their bench.

[pentanguine]

Favorite Books of 2023

So I didn’t quite get to it in January, but I did finally finish this list!! (And as always, I'm longwinded)

My reading taste was all over the place last year. I intended for it to be the year I read neglected fantasy trilogies gathering dust on my bookshelf, but instead I joined a book club for grad school and got shoved out of my comfort zone; ended up with a boyfriend (now ex, aka EBF) and read anything and everything he recommended; suddenly got into nonfiction and horror for no explicable reason; joined another book club for work and ended up reading even more books outside my wheelhouse; and discovered that I enjoyed hate-reading books during slow periods at work and on my lunch break. It was a mess. But somehow, a few favorites came out of it!

1. The Full-Moon Whaling Chronicles by Jason Guriel– What the fuck even is this book. It’s a book about a book about teenage werewolves on a quest to outwit some pirates and recover a lost treasure. It’s the story of a young woman in a post-climate crisis earth living in a Gothic mansion in Japan and questing for her favorite author inside a high-tech diorama. It’s about the aftermath of environmental destruction, invasive technology and autonomy, the power of fandom and transforming stories through your love for them, fathers (love for, betrayal by, forgiveness of), and worlds within worlds. It asks meaty questions about the role of technology in generating change for the better and creating hope when that same tech is eroding what it even means to be human and experience reality. It’s the kind of cli-fi that offers hope, that’s warm, that makes you think of alternatives. It’s dense with speculative worldbuilding and plays dizzyingly with metafiction, and the whole damn thing is written in couplets!!

I feel like I can’t adequately express how much I love the things this book does. It experiments with form and language, which would be cool enough, except it goes on to explore complex themes in a thought-provoking way while throwing in a bizarre and delightful clusterfuck of elements like robot werewolves and tree furries. Most importantly, it was just so much fun to read. I want a sequel with these characters. I want to go to a con dressed as one of the garden wolves. I want to study this book for English class and write an essay on it in rhyming couplets. I did not at all expect this to be my favorite book of the year, but it absolutely is. (It also only has 19 ratings and 4 reviews on Goodreads, so if it sounds at all up your alley, please read it!!)

2. The Mask of Mirrors by M. A. Carrick– What many of my favorite books have in common this year is that they were incredibly fun to read. Mask of Mirrors is entertaining from start to finish, as schemes that would fill a lesser book are introduced and then resolved in mere chapters, and the climax is nothing but action-packed chaos. The world-building is dense and rewarding, the plot is twisty, and Ren is conning everyone, all the time, in at least 6 different ways, which of course makes it more satisfying when she ends up conning herself into actually caring about her marks. You'll like this if you enjoy a TTRPG flavor of storytelling (it started as an RPG, which makes sense once you know it), or if you enjoyed the basics of Ellen Kushner’s Swordspoint but wished it had more action and large-scale worldbuilding. There is a lot going on in these books, in the best possible way.

3. Starling House by Alix E. Harrow – There’s so much I loved about this book: the slow Gothic creep, the stories within a story, the eerie illustrations, the immersive sense of place. Surprisingly, it was the grounded, realistic parts of the book that were the most compelling to me. This is a fantasy, but it’s also a small-town family drama and coming of age story that could have been literary fiction with a few changes. The prose is just gorgeous, beautiful without ever getting purple. This is ultimately the story of the most bloody-minded woman in Kentucky slowly finding a home in the place she’s lived her whole life, while she falls in love with an equally bloody-minded man. Like The Raven Cycle as haunted house story, with overtones of Hades and Persephone and Beauty and the Beast.

4. The Necessity of Stars by E. Catherine Tobler – This is an 80 page novella that I usually wouldn’t count as a book, but it’s simply too good to leave off this list. It’s a strange and beautiful story about aging, climate change, sexism and exploitation, memory and language and how they shape our identities, and how we move through time. In such a short page count, there are so many powerful images that have stuck with me over six months later, including a sea of deep purple irises and a woman and an alien making love under…amidst…as? the stars. There’s something very Le Guin-like about this story with its setting of stars, shadows, and trees, and its sense of humanity. Mind-blowingly good; I highly recommend anything from Neon Hemlock Press.

5. Heir’s Game by suspu– This is a webtoon and not a novel, but I included a 100k Sherlock fanfic in my best books of 2017, so I’m also counting this. It’s a fluffy, bloodthirsty, melodramatic, swashbuckling high adventure found family story with an entertainment value off the charts. It balances a lot of different story elements and tones, each character and arc is developed so well, and there’s a truly satisfying number of pretty men covered in blood. If you’re devouring it over the course of a few days like I did, you also get to watch the author’s art style improve over the course of the four years it took them to write this. I’m morbidly impressed by the amount of effort that goes into panels I read in 2 seconds. Disclaimer that I read this alongside EBF, which may have biased my feelings towards it.

6. Bloom by Delilah S. Dawson – A lovely blend of sweet(?), sexy romance and lush description with visceral horror, creeping menace, and strong dramatic irony.* The last chapter I found a little dumb and overly conclusive, but I’m willing to forgive that due to the immersive atmosphere and tension for most of the book. Ro, the protagonist, is heartbreakingly vulnerable in her twisted justifications for why her first sapphic relationship is actually so Beautiful and Good, and Ash feels like a good depiction of a non-traditional abuser. It’s indulgent and suspenseful, and it’s also got Things to Say.

*(In response to people complaining on Goodreads that the “twist” is obvious, I would like to say: Ash is a baker/cook, the jacket contains the word “consumes” and “devouring,” and there’s a flayed body on the cover. I think a blurb may have comped it to Hannibal. If you read all that and think the publishers are spoiling the “twist” of the book instead of just advertising what the book is about, that’s a you problem. This is not a thriller trying to set up a shocking twist and leave you guessing; it’s horror, and the horror comes from knowing what’s coming and watching Ro stumble right into it with nothing we can do to stop it. Thanks for coming to my TED talk.)

7. The Dawnhounds by Sascha Stronach– The thing I loved most about this book is that it’s truly, delightfully original. I don’t think I’ve ever read anything remotely like it. There’s living technology that’s based on plants and syncs with human biology, a fresh system of gods and resurrection, a found family pirate ship, and some viscerally disturbing body horror. I often found myself sitting still for a minute with my mouth open, head tilted slightly to the side, thinking “…how the fuck did she come up with that.” This is also such a satisfyingly queer book. It very much centers found family, and unapologetic abundance saves the day. I wish I could remember more specifics of this book, but mostly what stuck with me is that it’s weird as shit and I thoroughly enjoyed it.

8. This is Ear Hustle by Nigel Poor and Earlonne Woods –This is the book form of an award-winning podcast discussing the realities of life in the American prison system, from those on both the inside and outside. It’s an often intense read, which I took in pieces over two months, but the storytelling is so engrossing, and introduces its audience to people and circumstances they most likely wouldn’t have encountered otherwise. I would never have guessed that San Quentin has skill-building and education programs, including the media lab where the Ear Hustle podcast is produced, or that at least one woman began a relationship with someone already in prison, moved her entire life to a desert prison town, and raised a family there. Each story in this book humanizes people who are often given little sympathy or understanding by society (even if they have been or are cruel and violent; redemption is not the point). The system they live in is definitely cruel and violent, but they are, like everyone, multifaceted people with loved ones and hobbies. Everyone has a story. This is the best kind of nonfiction to me, the kind that alters your view of the world and is still cropping up in your thoughts over six months later.

9. They Were Here Before Us by Eric LaRocca – I went through a big Eric LaRocca phase last fall, and I think this is overall the strongest of his works. The stories range from existentially shocking tales of nature at its darkest and most unnatural(?), to grotesque body horror, to unsettling tension that creeps across the pages like a serial killer stalking outside your window. A lot of the stories deal with the desperation, grotesqueness, and violation that comes with loving another person, and there’s a recurring contrast between bodies as vessels for love and as simply meat. Bearing in mind that I once said, in bemused shock, “Is Gideon the Ninth horror??”: it pushed against the boundaries of what I was comfortable reading and thinking about, without being shock for shock value. His writing is just viscerally fucked up.

10. The Darkness Outside Us by Eliot Schrefer – This is a fucking dark and bleak book that officially hooked me at the end of Part One, when what I thought would be the reveal of the entire book…happened. And so I said “well, now what??” And plunged into a brutally depressing, borderline nihilistic, violently hopeful story about the nature of humanity and finding purpose in life. There are heartwarming moments in this book too, and also some funny or trivial moments that remind you this book is, for some random reason, YA.* If you enjoy sci-fi that grapples with the dizzying feeling of our microscopic place in the unending void of the cosmos, I highly recommend this one. And if you read Emma Newman’s Before Mars and want more in that vein, you’ll find a lot to love here.

*Unlike some people on Goodreads, I do see a reason for the protagonists to be teenagers, but you can very much write an adult book about teenagers

11. So You Want to be a Wizard by Diane Duane – I regret not discovering this book as a child, because I would have loved it. It’s the story of two children who teach themselves wizardry and become embroiled in an ongoing struggle for the fate of the world. The poetic writing, the way trees are held in reverence, and the way language is magic in and of itself are all things that appeal to me as an adult, but would have been even more meaningful when I was younger. I especially loved how matter of fact the children are about discovering magic: of course there’s magic in the world. They’re children, and they can believe in anything.

Honorable Mentions:

The Thousand Crimes of Ming Tsu by Tom Lin

How to Sell a Haunted House by Grady Hendrix

Smiler’s Fair by Rebecca Levene

[meamiiikiii]

mira !!! :]

[alcoveofconcealment]

My favorite polycule: Repressed War Trauma, Toxic Familial Issues, and Childhood Cultist Survivor. Surely they won't throw their entire being into any given interest and instead take breaks like a reasonable person. They are so normal

[pikasetism]

theyre playing splatoon

[espighty]

I think being a god for so long would make them appreciate being the subject of a joke for once. People were too afraid to joke about them before.

My lining pen keeps smearing every time I erase and if it happens one more time I am becoming the next lobotomite. mark my words

[turrondeluxe]

I love how you draw April, she still looks like an older woman, but she seems more… refreshed. (is she like in her late 50 in the last ronin? I suppose this makes her in her early 60 in your au?) Guess the stress of Hiroto's existence is slowly withdrawing from her not-so-old bones :)

thank you!!! she is indeed called grammy april after all!

[avornalino]

two coworkers for @kashisun's office!! they are besties who only hate each other sometimes...

[info dump under the cut im actually so in love with them]

nyara moulton: social media manager

27 / aries / born and raised in san my

rbf but is actually so sweet she would drop whatever she's doing to gossip or listen to you vent

makes her older coworkers learn and do tiktok dances (everyone only pretends to hate it)

brings her cat to work sometimes (she's a very polite cross-eyed siamese)

lucille 'lucy' neumann: accounting (finance gal)

38 / capricorn / born in brindleton bay, moved to san my at 18

pretends to hate everyone but knows every single person's coffee order in the office

broke up with her bf of 4 years bc of the barbie movie

obsessed with yoga and fitness. currently trying to convince her boss to get standing desks so she can walk on a treadmill

has her plastic surgeon on speed dial in case she spots a wrinkle

if you walk past the two of them and they're silent... they were talking shit about you hate to break it to you...........

[so-long-soldier28]

i need to be writing but i have the ✨ depresso ✨

[mikodrawnnarratives]

I heard this audio and. And I needed to. I needed to draw the sisters cause kdskjfs

Cause like, dang when they reunite Maggie is gonna have a completely different experience than Nova. For Nova, it's seeing her sister who she thought was dead, is now alive. Grown up. She knew her at one point.

Maggie never really knew Nova before the events of the first book. She's only ever held ideas of who her sister could have been. Even after meeting Nova, it was never in a positive light which contrasts how Nova acts around kids (Max.) her age. Yes, it was maggie's fault for her sticky fingers though she still never got to truely know Nova

Just. Things I think abt

The audio is from Laurie Anderson's "O Superman"

[iliveinprocrasti-nationn]

it sucks that so much of my family has also dealt with cancer but it's really lovely that they were able to give me warnings about things

[absolutely-not-my-main-blog]

I'm gonna be fussing over fixing things on these for months on end if I don't just post now, so in honour of his birthday, some painting practice of Glenn Howerton in the short film When Pigs Fly <3