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insanitysilver · 2 months ago

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Multifandom Fanfic Event Calendar

An attempt at aggregating the events I’ve seen. Not affiliated with any event organizers. Key: ☼ Writing - ♥ Reading. (Updated: 2/4/25)

JANUARY

All Month :

♥ - FaFiCoWriMo / Fanfic Comment Writing Month ( @faficowrimo ) Challenge: Comment on every fic you read during the month of January ☼ - Whumpuary ( @whumpuary ) Daily whump-themed writing prompts

Last Two Weeks of January :

☼ / ♥ - Genuary ( @genuary-fic-event ) Authors / readers share favored Gen fics on social media & add them to the annual Genuary AO3 collection

FEBRUARY

All Month :

☼ - February Ficlet Challenge ( @februaryficletchallenge) Write a 200+ word ficlet based of the daily surprise prompt. Comes with a yearly ao3 collection. ☼ / ♥ - Femslash February Event celebrating femslash pairings. Participate by writing, reading, commenting on, and recommending femslash fics. Applicable works can be added to the open ao3 collection and tagged with #femslash february ☼ / ♥ - Femslash February Celebrates Black Women Under the Femslash February umbrella, this event celebrates Black History Month and uses the additional '#femslash february celebrates black women' & '#ffcbw' tags. ☼ - FebuWhump ( @febuwhump ) A month of creating whump works guided by a daily prompt list. ☼ - Feveruary ( @feveruary ) A month of sickfic-based writing prompts. ☼ - Kinkuary ( @kinkuary ) A month of kink-based creative writing prompts.

February 10th - 14th :

☼ - FicWIP's "Hey, Sweetheart" Challenge - ( @ficwip ) Challenge: Use the pet name "sweetheart" in fic or art.

February 15th :

☼ / ♥ - International Fanworks Day / IFD Celebrates fanwork and has a new general theme every year. Hosted by the OTW, they usually run a week of events to celebrate which (can) include: essay calls, surveys, drabble challenges, games & trivia, along with the annual feedback fest post which solicits 10 fic recs based of the prompt of the year. Applicable works can use the ao3 tag.

MARCH

All Month :

☼ - FicWIP's Level Up Challenge - ( @ficwip ) Running through all of February & March, this challenge asks you to pick an aspect of your chosen creative craft you'd like to improve on and see that goal through. ☼ - Multiamory March ( @polyamships ) Create daily polyam-themed work with an optional prompt list and submit to the ao3 collection.

APRIL

All Month :

☼ - Angstpril ( @chaos-company ) Daily angst-themed writing prompts.

MAY

All Month :

☼ - Do-May-Stic ( @domaystic ) Daily domestic-themed writing prompts. Includes a yearly ao3 collection. ☼ - MerMay A month of mermaid-themed creative prompts. While perhaps more widely used by visual artists, AO3 has thriving yearly tags for the event. ☼ - Whumpay ( @whumpay ) Daily whump-themed writing prompts

JUNE

All Month :

☼ / ♥ - Gen Work June ( @genworkjune ) Authors / readers share favored Gen fics on social media & add them to the AO3 collection. Writing prompts also available. ♥ - Fanfic Summer Reading Program (Northern Hemisphere) ( @ao3commentoftheday ) A summer-long challenge to encourage people to read and interact with a variety of fics. Mostly self-guided, but comes with a number of attractive achievement badges.

JULY

All Month :

☼ - Fluffuly ( @fluffuly2024) Daily fluff-themed writing prompts

AUGUST

All Month :

☼ -AU-gust / Alternate Universe August ( @augustwritingchallenge ) Daily AU-themed writing prompts. Comes with yearly ao3 collection. ☼ - Fic WIP 5k - ( @ficwip5k ) Challenge: Write a complete AU for any fandom in 5,000 words or less. ☼ - Writer's Month ( @writersmonth ) Daily fiction writing prompts. Offers personalized badges at the end and has a yearly ao3 collection.

August 21st :

♥ - Fanfiction Author Appreciation Day A day to celebrate your favorite fic authors, customarily by commenting on their work, sending a nice message to their ask box, and/or mentioning them in a rec post with the '#Fanfiction Writers Appreciation Day' & '#FFWAD' tags.

SEPTEMBER

All Month :

☼ - Sapphic September ( @sapphic-september ) Daily sapphic prompts with a yearly ao3 collection. ☼ - Sicktember ( @sicktember ) Daily sickfic prompts with a yearly ao3 collection. ☼ - Tropetember ( @tropetember ) Daily prompts based off popular fanfic tropes (5+1, one bed, etc.) with a yearly ao3 collection.

1st Week :

☼ - Trick or Treat Exchange (Begins) Annual fic/fanart exchange for hosted on ao3. Prep/sign-ups begin in September, and fics are revealed on Oct. 31st to the annual ao3 collection.

2nd Week:

☼ - Yuletide Secret Santa (Begins)( @yuletidetreasure ) Annual fic exchange for rare/obscure fandoms hosted on ao3. Prep/sign-ups begin in fall, and fics are revealed on Dec. 25th.

September 15th :

♥ - Comment Day ( @comment-day ) Pick 1+ fics and leave a detailed, personalized comment.

OCTOBER

All Month :

☼ [BLANK]-ober Daily Writing Challenges In the spirit of inktober, a drawing challenge that encourages artists to draw start and finish a small drawing daily, often guided by prompts, many creative-writing-centric events have sprung up. Some are more self-directed than others. ☼ - Fictober ( @fictober-event ) - general fiction writing prompts ☼ - Flufftober ( @flufftober ) - fluff-based prompts ☼ - Kinktober - kink-based prompts ☼ - OC-tober - Make art about your OCs daily ☼ - OTP-tober - Make art about your OTP daily ☼ - Whumptober ( @whumptober ) - whump-based prompts

Final Week of October :

♥ - Just Leave a Comment Fest ( @justleaveacommentfest ) Challenge: leave as many comments as possible. Each day comes with an optional reading theme. Mini-events are often run throughout the year. ☼ / ♥ - FicWIP's Ship Week - ( @ficwip ) Multifandom week of celebrating shipping. Includes a week of writing prompts and a support bingo board for non-writers.

October 31st :

☼ - Good Intentions WIP Fest ( @goodintentionswipfest) A day for celebrating/sharing/posting abandoned WIPS by submitting them to the ao3 collection. Let's give the dead a proper send off. ☼ - Trick or Treat Exchange (Revealed) Annual fic/fanart exchange hosted on ao3. Prep/sign-ups begin in September, and fics are revealed on Oct. 31st to the annual ao3 collection.

NOVEMBER

All Month :

☼ - Novella November ( @novella-november ) Challenge: Write 30,000 words. ☼ - Rough Draft Month ( @roughdraftmonth ) Challenge: Bring a creative project to completion alongside of other creatives doing the same. Comes with different levels of word-count goals and a flex goal option.

DECEMBER

All Month :

☼ - Hurtcember ( @hurtcember ) Daily whump-themed writing prompts ♥ - Zero Comment Challenge ( @polizwrites ) Challenge: Comment on one or more works with zero comments. ♥ - Fanfic Summer Reading Program (Southern Hemisphere) ( @ao3commentoftheday ) A summer-long challenge to encourage people to read and interact with a variety of fics. Mostly self-guided, but comes with a number of attractive achievement badges.

December 13th - 25th :

☼ - 12 Days of [Blank] Old fandom tradition of doing daily prompts in the 12 days leading up to Christmas. Some are more self-directed than others. ☼ - 12 Days of Christmas ( @12daysofchristmas ) - 12 days of holiday/winter-themed writing prompts. ☼ - Fluffmas - 12 days of fluff, #fluffmas ☼ - Kinkmas - 12 days of kink, #kinkmas ☼ - Smutmas - 12 days of smut, #smutmas

December 25th :

☼ - Yuletide Secret Santa (Revealed)( @yuletidetreasure ) Annual fic exchange for rare/obscure fandoms hosted on ao3. Prep/sign-ups begin in fall, and fics are revealed on Dec. 25th to the annual ao3 collection.

#this took ages #partially due to the weird way tumblr handles line breaks vs paragraph breaks #anyways mostly tumblr-centric with a few exceptions for larger events #hope this helps ppl connect a bit more #fanfic #ao3 #archive of our own #IFD #fanfiction #building community

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dannymayevent · 1 year ago

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Dannymay 2024

Welcome back to Dannymay! We sincerely apologize for the delay this year, as we're releasing this just a day before the event is due to start. Life's been a bit hectic for all of us, but we're here now and ready to get this event started for you!

If you aren't aware, Dannymay is a yearly event where creators are given a daily prompt and are free to run with it! Any and all art is allowed; fanfiction, fanart, music, poetry, and anything else will be welcomed!

Feel free to complete as many or as few prompts as you'd like, and remember to have fun! When you're done, post your creations to Tumblr with the #Dannymay2024 tag so we can see it!

Like last year, we'll be compiling an ao3 collection under the tag Dannymay 2024, and we'll fire up the Dannymay discord for another year - the link is in our FAQ!

Full text prompt list and AU explanations are below the cut

Insect

2. Wish

3. Invisible

4. Wander

5. Nails

6. Immortal AU: What if Danny/Halfas couldn't die?

7. Mind Control

8. Style Challenge: A unique prompt to kick off the second week! Take the characters and draw them in the style of a different piece of media, or experiment with your own style and see what you can make!

9. Hunger

10. Mausoleum

11. Mutation

12. Time Travel

13. D&D AU: Drop the characters into the world of Dungeons & Dragons, or imagine them playing the game!

14. Light

15. Field Trip

16. Glowing Veins

17. Equilibrium

18. Revenge

19. Iron

20. Pitch AU: What if the show had aired as presented in the Pitch Bible, where Danny is a human with an owl named Spooky, rides a motorcycle, and has a psychic connection with Sam? For more information, the Bible has been uploaded to the Internet Archive

21. Funeral

22. Song Lyric: Just one week left! Take a line from a song you like and use that as inspiration!

23. Reflection

24. Electricity

25. Games

26. Shoes

27. Zombie AU: What if the ghosts were zombies, or what if canon Amity Park were to face a zombie apocalypse?

28. Healing

29. Fireworks

30. Goodbye

31. Free Day: You made it, thanks for participating in the event! For the last day, create anything you'd like!

#danny phantom #dannymay2024 #dannymay 2024 #can you tell nothuman made the calendar instead of lexx this year?#what can I say I am a slave to the Green #sorry for the delay dont worry I feel bad lmao :)

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 months ago

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Meet the Family 6

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your boss needs a last-minute favour for the holidays.(petite!reader)

Characters: Lloyd Hansen

Note: gotta right my final reflection today and then I don't have schoolwork for a while!

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

“So, when is the wedding?” Lillians asks over a half-empty plate.

You take your time chewing. You don’t have an answer. As far as you’re concerned, this is Lloyd’s plot so he can come up with the detail. You're here to enjoy the wine.

“Uh, the spring,” he blurts out.

“The spring?” Gwenyth repeats. “Don’t you have a specific date?”

“Erm, May something...” Lloyd says.

“May? That’s so soon. If you don’t even have a date, I doubt you have a venue or a dress or--” Lillian counters.

“Oh, well, we were thinking of. Er...” Lloyd turns his fork in this hand. “Eloping?”

“Eloping,” Gwenyth hisses. “Eloping? Does that mean we’re not invited? It’s simply not fair.”

“Mom, I--”

“Gwen, he didn’t say that, did he?”

“Well, dad--”

“We are invited,” William states. It’s not a question.

“You see what happens?” Gwen takes her cloth napkin and folds it, dabbing her tearless eyes, “the groom’s mother is always excluded. He is my son--”

“A destination wedding would be nice,” William suggests.

“Uh, of course. Yeah. We’d like to go somewhere far away, but uh, not far from you...” Lloyd stammers and you kick his foot. You could laugh at how flustered he is if you were entwined in his lies. He sits straighter, “We’ll have the invitations out soon. Everyone’s invited of course--”

You kick him again. He slips his hand on your knee and squeezes, “we’re still figuring things out,” he declares.

“Oh, it seems so!” Gwenyth clasps the napkin between her hands. “Darling, you must let me help. And Lillian. Her wedding was fabulous.”

“Which one?” Lloyd snickers.

“We’ll see if you even have one,” his sister retorts.

He cackles and William sighs.

“Yes, weddings. All that mess,” William drawls. “The ladies can suss out the details but I do believe it’s time for the yearly rematch.”

“You still do that?” Lloyd asks.

“Hm, of course. It is a tradition. What’s the matter? You too old, boy?”

“Speak for yourself,” Lloyd bounces back, shocking you with the snipe.

Another surprise, William laughs.

“Ben may need to sit out,” William suggests.

“Oh, to the contrary, old boy, I’ve had just enough bourbon that I am a prized asset in my state,” the man with the fluffy ash hair doffs his mug.

“Hm, yes, Carter, Linus, Ransom, Ben, myself, Lloyd,” William counts on his fingers, “Dawson, Lewis, Hudson, and Owen. Quite the lineup this year.”

You look at Lloyd confused. He doesn’t look excited. You reach under the table and move his hand off your leg. He flinches and glances over at you.

“Is this some sort of cribbage tournament?” You scoff under your breath.

He shakes his head. “Touch football...”

“Football...” You peer across the table with concerns. At least four of the players named are a bit too old to be running around in the snow.

“It’s fine. Just like tag,” Lloyd shrugs unconvincingly. You chew your lip as you consider him. His eyes follow the movement and you stop yourself. “What?” He asks.

“I’m just trying to picture it,” you say. “You don’t seem like a football person.”

“What does that mean? You don’t seem like one either? What would you know?” You hiss back.

“Ah, dear,” William calls across the table, “do not fear for his safety. We are all family, no one means to hurt each other.”

Despite his assurance, you’re even less convinced that there won’t be some horrible accident. Again, you remind yourself, it’s Lloyd’s problems. Your sole focus is the money. And the wine.

You reach to drain your glass, “I’m not worried at all,” you smile, “oh, and honey,” you turn to Lloyd, “you never asked but I love football. I’m a big Bills fan, actually. Remember, laces out.”

Lloyd grumbles and stands. The other men do in a lazy succession. They stretch and groan over the scraping chair legs. The women rise too and start to clear the table. You’re not a fan of that divide; the men get their fun and the women get to tidy, but you will not be as rude as they’ve accused you.

You start to gather cutlery and plates. Lloyd startles you as he puts his hand on your hip to stop you. You face him.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.” He says.

You bat your lashes and smirk. You’re amused that he thinks you’re that concerned.

“Oh, I’m sure you can handle a game of tag, but you might want to stretch. There’s no one you can pay to run the ball for you,” you snort.

You move past him and follow Lillian. He huffs as you leave him to the rabble of old man talking trash. As you enter the kitchen, Lillian sets the plates on the counter and you put yours next to hers. You take the top one and scrape it clean.

“You’ll enjoy it. It’s always a good show. I am interested to see the teams this year,” she trills. “Of course, without Lloyd around for so long, I had to step in. Unfortunately, this year, I'm in no condition to lace up.”

“Oh, it sounds like a fun tradition,” you remark.

“It’s wonderful fun,” she assures as Gwenyth enters. Lillian shifts closer and lowers her voice, “also, you might want to consider, Lloyd wasn’t keeping us from you, perhaps it was the opposite. We are a rather selective bunch.”

You meet her bruising sneer and smile. The wine helps drown your agitation. Why should you be bothered? Once you have your money, it won’t worry what the bloated bitch thinks? Oops, let’s keep those thoughts inside.

“Oh, I’ll be sure to thank him for that,” you wink. She frowns.

“Leave the plates at the sink, ladies,” Gwenyth commands. “Let’s grab out coats! The powder’s fresh. It’ll be a good match.”

It’s odd. You really didn’t take this horde of pretentious ghouls as the football type. Well, maybe not the NFL-watching, tailgating type in pickups or minivans. Still, you can’t help but be a little amped for a Christmas game.

There’s a crunch at the front door. Andrea, Angela, and Raquel warble with Gwenyth, as Shanna, Linda, and Lana come over to admire Lillian’s bump and ask her about the birth plans, while you stand to the side and watch Beatrice with a few younger girls, the elder daughters from all those pairing, who are less than enthused about the whole show. The parade of names escape you though you hardly wonder who is who.

Your eyes wander to the next room. The younger kids are kept busy before the large Christmas tree by women you haven’t been introduced too. You assume those are the nannies Lloyd mentioned. It’s rather grim, a family divided as if the younger generation were a nuisance. Despite the enthusiasm for Lillian’s coming child, the poor soul will only end up at kids’ table apart from their mother.

The men chatter near the open door as a brisk wind flows in. As you reach for your coat, you collide with another. You turn in the tight space to face Ransom as he cracks his neck.

“You going to cheer me on, baby girl?” He smirks at you.

You stare at him crisply. You continue to pull your coat on as you censor the variations of ‘hell no’ rolling through your mind. You look around for an escape but there isn’t one. The entry way is packed with bodies.

“It will be cathartic. You’d just be cheering on the team, not necessarily, cheering against your beloved fiance,” he snickers.

You look at him dully, “oh, I'm certain you’ll run circles around a team full of middle aged and elder men.”

“You love to see it,” he grins and reaches around you. Before you can react, he pinches your ass again. You hit his chest as he pulls away and rubs his fingertips together, “for good luck.”

“You’re nasty.”

“Look at who you came with, sweetheart,” he sticks his tongue out and turns away. “But I understand if it’s my ass you’re watching out in the snow.”

You curl your lip as you zip up your coat and shuffle over near the women. The men disburse through the front door ahead of you. They holler at each other, pointing impatiently, “over there.”; “Ben, too far”, “No, you snap--”

You watch them break into team in the snowy street, barren of cars in the calm of Christmas Day. You tuck your hands into your pocket as you stand along the curb and the other women puff clouds into the frigid air. Lazy flakes swirl down and add to the glowing ambiance of the wintry midday.

William, Ransom, Linus, Dawson, and Hudson huddle on one side with the ball as the others, Benson, Lloyd, Carter, Lewis, and Owen watch, waiting to respond to the first play. You’re not expecting anything more than wobbling throws and clumsy runs, still, it’s better than arguing at the dinner table.

Ransom gets down to snap to William. The ball passes hands as Dawson runs a route and Ransom and Linus block the front light. Hudson takes the running backs route for the fake handoff before William searches for his receiver. Not bad for amateurs, especially given the demographic.

The ball is caught as Owen makes the touch. No proper tackle, just a tap on Dawson’s shoulders. The play end as the next play is called in the huddle. Instead of moving down the street, the team resets at the same line, counting yard from that point.

Another snap. The run is stuffed as Lloyd makes the touch on Hudson, almost indifferent about the play. The women cheer but not at the right times. They’re not really paying attention as they garble about desserts or their hair stylists.

“You know what would be perfect, some mulled cider,” Beatrice suggests. The comment does make you thirsty but you’re not so sure you’d trade the cold outside for that inside.

The ball switches possessions. Lloyd takes the snap. You’re a bit surprised but Benson is swaying in his blocking position. That’s less shocking.

Snap. A pass. Straight and on target. Carter, one of William’s brothers, makes the catch and runs for ten more. Or what’s assumed to be that man.

A new call. Lloyd rambles out signals in a parody of a real game. “Blood. Wine. Beemer, beemer beemer. Black sheep...” Your eye is drawn by Ransom as he shifts low. You tilt your head.

“Offside,” you mutter as the ball snaps. Ransom’s across the line before the blockers can react and before the ball can change hands. In an instant, Lloyd is in the snow beneath the other man.

“Oh my!” “Gosh.” “Ransom...” The concern washes over the audience of women as the men stop the play and turn to look at the two men in the snow.

The latch onto each other in a toothless brawl. Lloyd knocks Ransom into the snow and grabs his neck. Ransom grips him in turn and they roll back and forth, trying to throttle each other. The other men move to separate them.

“You two,” William booms.

“Oh, Ransom, what are you doing?” Linda rushes over.

“Linda,” William growls as Lloyd is dragged away from her son. “We were kind in letting him come here after everything--”

“Oh, don’t blame him. Your son is just as bad.”

“My son has a job,” William snarls back.

“Don’t worry, that cuck barely got a ding on me,” Lloyd sneers as he shrugs the other men off. There’s a raw and red patch on his cheek bone and snow in his mussed hair. Scratches peek out above his collar as he coughs.

“Fucker’s weak as pudding,” Ransom jeers back.

“Both of you. That’s disgusting,” William growls. “Enough. Both of you, benched.”

“I didn’t do anything,” Lloyd whines.

“Doesn’t matter. You’re ruining the game,” William says. “Both of you, go inside.”

“He antagonized him,” Linda squalls, “you heard his play call--”

“Your son’s grown. He can handle words,” William rebuffs. “You can go inside with them.”

You’re disappointed. It wasn’t bad while it lasted. Lloyd chuffs and steps around his father. Several bodies move to keep him away from Ransom. He rolls his eyes and waves them off.

“He’s not worth it,” he stomps over to you. “Whatever, let’s get some hot chocolate or some shit. Better than standing in the snow with a bunch of geezers.”

He grabs your arm and you have no choice but to let him lead you away. You can hear Ransom pleading his own case, whining at his mom, as she huffs and sighs. The argument fades as you near the front door.

Lloyd pushes through and drags you in with him. He checks his reflection in the wall mirror, fixing his hair as he winces. He left his coat and blazer inside, wearing only his black turtleneck, now wet from the snow and streaked with salt along his back. He shakes his head at himself.

You undo your coat and hang it. You almost want to call it a day. You came to brunch, you faced the wolves, and there isn’t enough wine to make them tolerable.

He touches his cheek and hisses, “ugh, bastard.”

“Hard hit,” you say.

“Sure was. Who knew the brat had it in him?” He gingerly presses his cheekbone, “ugh, well, Pix, how about you kiss it better?”

“What?” You grimace. “No way.”

“But it hurts,” he turns to you and pushes his bottom lip out.

“Uh uh,” you cross your arms. “We need to talk. About the wedding.”

“Really? You wanna talk about that?”

“Lloyd, I said a courthouse.”

“I know but...” he pauses and glances around the entry way, “come on.”

He ushers you down the hall and into the bathroom. He shuts the door and you’re once more trapped in the tight space with a Hansen twin. He stands in front of the door as he faces you.

“Look, I’m just trying to get this done. It’s good for both of us. You want your money, don’t you? So you need to play along.”

“I am.”

“It’s just a fucking ceremony and a dinner.” He argues.

“It’s not what I agreed too.”

“Yeah, well, we have to be convincing if we want our prize.”

You scowl, “I really am not enjoying this whole ‘we’ narrative.”

“That’s the script, Pixie pie. So put a little bit of energy into it.” He steps closer and you stiffen as he puts his hands on your shoulders. “Loosen up and you might actually have a bit of fun.”

“It was supposed to be the holiday and the courthouse,” you insist.

“Not good enough. We both know it.”

“I want more money,” you grit.

He pouts again, “you drive a hard bargain for such a soft little thing.”

You push him away as he goes to stroke his cheek.

“Two million. I’m not wearing a white dress for anything less.”

“Baby, please, you’re bleeding me dry--”

“I’m not blind, Lloyd.” You look around emphatically, “I know what I’m asking for is a fraction of what you’ll get. I’ve worked for you long enough to know your tactics. Whatever I ask, I’m being undersold. Two or I walk right now.”

He takes a deep breath and lets it out, “let me just see a little ass.”

You blink, stunned by his barter. You shake your head. “Not for a three million.”

“Ugh, fine. You’re so damn stubborn. I like it but I also hate it,” he sighs. “Two,” he pulls his hand free and offers it. You shake it with a triumphant smirk. “Let’s seal that the right way.”

He tightens his hold on you as he grabs the back of your head and bends to smother you with a bristly kiss. You squeak before you can pull away. You scoff at him and yank your hand free to wipe your lips.

“It’s gonna happen, Pixie,” he grins. “Trust.”

#lloyd hansen #dark lloyd hansen #dark!lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #series #fic #meet the family #dark fic #dark!fic #the gray man

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suzuran777 · 3 months ago

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BL game magazine Cool-B will be ceasing publication this month

After 20 years, BL visual novel magazine Cool-B is publishing its final issue at the end of this month. As someone who was always looking forward to the new information featured in the magazine, I'm sad to see it go, though I do understand the reasoning behind it. Due to rising manufacturing costs, in 2024 Cool-B was re-branded to Cool-B Kiwami, and the publishing schedule was changed to quarterly instead of bi-monthly. So for some time, it seemed like the magazine would continue with this new schedule. However, unfortunately in October 2024, another announcement was made on their social media in which they mentioned that the magazine would end publication in January 2025, as the contract with their publisher was also coming to an end.

Compared to 20 or even 10 years ago, the BL visual novel market has changed a lot and the number of newly released games is much smaller nowadays. Despite that, Cool-B continued publishing information, working closely with BL visual novel writers and artists to publish short stories and illustrations. The opinions of fans were important to them too, as they would organize yearly popularity polls and included game sales statistics and information about which new games people were looking forward to the most. The magazine's editors always seemed passionate about their work and even in their final statement, they mentioned that they want to find a way to continue, though right now they are unsure how.

Cool-B started publication in 2005, though its predecessor Binetsu Ouji released its first issue in 2002. Around this time, there were several other magazines which published information about BL visual novels, which I've written about in this blog post. All of them were eventually discontinued, which resulted in Cool-B becoming the only BL visual novel magazine. The other day the official Twitter/X account revealed the cover of the final issue, and instead of featuring a single game on the cover, they decided to include all of the previous covers. The text "最終号:BLゲームは不滅です" roughly translates to ''Final issue: BL games are immortal" implying that there will always be BL game creators who are passionate about their projects who will continue making new games in the future. And I think they're right, as earlier this week Parade (known for NO, THANK YOU!!!, Room No.9 and Lkyt.) announced their fourth game "lesson" which is scheduled to be released this year. The cover of the final Cool-B issue also teases a completely new project by Yura from Tennenouji (known for Miracle No-ton, Luckydog1 and Friendly Lab) as well as a completely voiced remake of a BL visual novel that was released in 2001 called Seraphim Spiral. Carnelian's new project Tokyo Gentou (or Tokyo Phantasmagoria) is also scheduled to be released this year, as well as the second part of Ooe which many BL fans are looking forward to, as part 1 was incredibly well received.

Including the final issue, Cool-B published 118 issues of the magazine between 2005 and 2025. They also had their own otome game magazines, Sweet Princess and Bitter Princess. As it's a bit difficult to see what's on each cover in the image above, I uploaded another image which should make it a bit easier to see. I also compiled a list of all the games/game franchises featured on each cover which you can check below. Some official game titles are rather long, so sometimes I wrote the name fans typically use when they refer to these games, but I think you should still be able to find it on vndb (visual novel database) if you want to learn more about these games.

1) Gakuen Heaven. 2) White Shadow. 3) Hanamachi Monogatari. 4) Torus Zero. 5) Lamento. 6) Messiah. 7) Gakuen Heaven. 8) Laughter Land. 9) Messiah. 10) Lamento. 11) Lamento. 12) Kichiku Megane. 13) Magia Mystica. 14) Ore no Shita de Agake. 15) Square na Kankei. 16) Maid★Hajimemashita. 17) Messiah. 18) Fanatica. 19) Togainu no Chi. 20) sweet pool. 21) Messiah. 22) sweet pool. 23) Kichiku Megane. 24) Luckydog1. 25) Hanakage. 26) Luckydog1. 27) Gakuen Heaven. 28) Hanakage. 29) Luckydog1. 30) STEAL! 31) sweet pool/Lamento/Togainu no Chi. 32) Luckydog 1. 33) Gakuen Heaven. 34) Togainu no Chi. 35) DRAMAtical Murder. 36) Gakuen Heaven.

37) Luckydog1. 38) Shingakkou. 39) Luckydog1. 40) Taishou Mebiusline. 41) Luckydog1. 42) DRAMAtical Murder. 43) Luckydog1. 44) DRAMAtical Murder. 45) DRAMAtical Murder. 46) Luckydog1. 47) DRAMAtical Murder. 48) Omertà. 49) DRAMAtical Murder. 50) Gakuen Heaven. 51) Luckydog1. 52) Si-Nis-Kanto. 53) Omertà. 54) Taishou Mebiusline. 55) Luckydog1. 56) DRAMAtical Murder. 57) DRAMAtical Murder. 58) Luckydog1. 59) Tsumi naru Rasen no Ori. 60) Togainu no Chi. 61) Gakuen Heaven. 62) Tokyo Onmyouji. 63) Luckydog1. 64) Luckydog1. 65) Taishou Mebiusline. 66) Luckydog1. 67) Togainu no Chi/Lamento/sweet pool/DRAMAtical Murder. 68) New World Order. 69) Luckydog1. 70) Luckydog1. 71) Taishou Mebiusline. 72) Omega Vampire.

73) Luckydog1. 74) Togainu no Chi/Lamento/sweet pool/DRAMAtical Murder. 75) Taishou Mebiusline. 76) Luckydog1. 77) Hashihime. 78) Paradise. 79) Luckydog1. 80) Luckydog1. 81) Paradise. 82) Nie no Machi. 83) Luckydog1. 84) Omega Vampire. 85) Luckydog1. 86) Nie no Machi. 87) Luckydog1. 88) Luckydog1. 89) Uuultra C. 90) Tokyo 24-ku. 91) Friendly Lab. 92) Lkyt. 93) Uuultra C. 94) Dystopia no Ou. 95) Uuultra C. 96) Slow Damage. 97) Luckydog1. 98) Tokyo 24-ku. 99) Hashihime. 100) Luckydog1. 101) Luckydog1. 102) Hashihime. 103) Friendly Lab. 104) Suito wa Hakumei. 105) Haiiro no Arcadia. 106) Hashihime. 107) Hashihime. 108) Hashihime. 109) NU:Carnival. 110) Tokyo Satsujinki. 111) Friendly Lab. 112) Luckydog1. 113) Hashihime. 114) Psychic Eclipse. 115) Luckydog1. 116) Ooe. 117) Luckydog1/Friendly Lab/Miracle Noton.

Some additional information which I thought was interesting -There are three games featured on the cover of the magazine that were never actually released and cancelled, which are White Shadow (2), Torus Zero (4) and New World Order (68), so you won't be able to find these on vndb as it unfortunately deletes these entries. I did include all three of them in a previous post about cancelled/unreleased BL visual novels if you want to check them out! (I just noticed all the typos in these older blog posts…please bear with me). Two of these game developers are still around, as Core recently returned as Procyon, and Holicworks still releases games, so perhaps some of their ideas were re-purposed, or scrapped for other ideas. There's actually a fourth game which hasn't been released yet which is Suito wa Hakumei featured on issue 104, though its status is currently unknown.

-In total, 31 of the covers feature characters from the Luckydog1 games, therefore Tennenouji is also the creator that was featured the most on the covers. Friendly Lab also has 3 covers (4 if you include the one with all of the Tennenouji game characters), therefore the total number of Tennenouji covers is 34, which is almost 40% of the covers. I'm assuming that Cool-B staff always worked closely with Yura, but Luckydog1 does have many different games, with the covers featuring Luckydog1, Gian-carlo's LUCKY HAPPY LIFE, Gian no Tame Nara Sekai o Kowasu, Luckydog1 + Badegg, Mr. Giancarlo and the Vita and Nintendo Switch ports of the first game. In the 117th issue, Yura did mention that the series was finished now with the release of the PC version of Mr. Giancarlo, and that she wants to focus on a completely different series now.

-The company with the second largest number of covers is Nitro+CHiRAL, with a total of 20 covers (about 23%). Among the Nitro+CHiRAL, games, DRAMAtical Murder has the most covers, advertising the first game, fandisc, anime and vita port. Of course, Nitro+Chiral is also known for its crossovers between their own games, so there are multiple covers which feature characters from different games together, promoting events such as the Chiral Night. Some of these feature the Chiral Night's mascot Naito-kun as well.

By the way, the magazine would always come with different postcards if you pre-ordered it from a specific website, and these postcards would feature new art from even more games, so fans had a lot of things they could collect. These were limited-edition, but you can still find people selling them second-hand on websites like Surugaya, Yahoo auctions, Mercari and more. Other than publishing magazines, Cool-B also released several artbooks, such as the Hashihime, Uuultra C, and Taishou Mebiusline official artbooks. I'm not quite sure what will happen to the sales of this as other stores like Stellaworth also sell them and they're often out of stock, but only time will tell.

To conclude this, I do hope they will be able to continue publishing information as they're clearly passionate about what they do. I always had a lot of fun guessing what kind of game would be on the next cover, as well as collecting postcards of games I liked. It's kind of sad that any future games won't have this, as the magazine would often publish original short stories and promotional material about these new games too. Even if the development of some games took a long time, it never really felt long as we would usually get updates every two months when Cool-B was released. Cool-B would often publish new chapters of manga too, such as the Paradise and Hashihime manga, so I do wonder what will happen to these and if they will be published somewhere else.

#cool-b #coolb #nitro+chiral #tennenouji #blinfo

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fryingpan1234567 · 10 months ago

Text

superheroes and social media

do you KNOW how often I see a cute trend on ig or tiktok or anything and I’m just like “man that would be cute for (insert hero ship)”

but that’s an issue because like… putting your face on the internet is DANGEROUS🙅‍♂️

I had. an idea. to solve all the issues!

as fun as it is to imagine the RobinOfficial account having 4 million followers, I think it’s more fun for everyone to have accounts that only follow and allow following in the caped community

so basically Instagram for just superheroes

the ones whose identities are known can post their faces, and the ones who are still under the radar have a close friends list that consists of the people who do know them

a very few amount of people who aren’t heroes are allowed on this Super IG

including Lois Lane, whose entire presence is standard mom posts but with like. Superkids and other Kryptonians. you get it

uhh Bernard Dowd too but he only follows Tim and Steph

Alfred, who only posts the Manor and London with captions like poetry

Selina Kyle because she already had a regular account but B was like “oh that’s dangerous now that we’re affiliated”

she was like “well how am I supposed to fuel my ego with no instagram for people to thirst after me”

B sighed and was like “well,,,,,”

Harley Quinn fluctuates between being banned and interacting with EVERYONE’S content with offensive amounts of emojis

anyways tell me WHY Conner Kent has the most iconic page on the internet

it’s full of these aesthetic photo dumps and crackhead videos of YJ doing dumb shit

also Tim. he’s got chaotic gen z billionaire vibes and most of his stuff is on his close friends list because B doesn’t need to see the REALLY dumb shit he gets up to

yeah they’re both hot and yeah they’re both elite pages. but Kon’s is Sabrina Carpenter energy and Tim’s is P!ATD energy so they’re different flavors of slay

on the opposite end of the spectrum we’ve got B, who has four posts, all exactly 365 days apart

it’s the yearly Father’s Day family portrait

Dick Grayson does that millennial vlog thing but Not

“a day in the life of a 24 year old cop (who also happens to be a vigilante)”

also a compilation of clips of him jumping off buildings, some taken by him and some by other people

can you IMAGINE this dumbass with a gopro

Red Bull wants to sponsor him what can I say

he lets his favorite villains follow him

WHEN I TELL YOU BILLY BATSON HAS THE MOST FAMOUS PAGE OF ANYONE IN THE COMMUNITY

because he was a public figure ANYWAYS. this is the idiot who used to walk around charging people’s phones with his powers and taking selfies for cash. people know him

so Captain Marvel has this crazy account with him doing memes and slo mo compilations of him punching guys from his body cam

his most hit post is a video where he found a cop harassing a bunch of kids on the street (who he happened to KNOW) and without saying anything at first just kindaaaaa walked over and fried the cruiser’s entire inner workings

“yo, copper! I think somethin’s up with your system, man!”

while the cop was trying to figure out how to start his fucking car again, Billy herded the kids down the sidewalk and they all took off running, giggling like maniacs

Damian Wayne doesn’t post a lot, but when he does, it’s to match with Jon

I mean like taking pictures of each other from across the same table and the captions are each half of a whole song lyric, stuff like that

his personal favorite is actually their softlaunch— they found an entire wall of mirrors at the planetarium on a date, Jon had his right hand on Dami’s waist and the other in his pocket, and Dami was standing in front of him, holding the phone with his right and tilting Jon’s face down with his left to press a kiss to the underside of his jaw. neither of their faces are in it and it was Damian’s wallpaper for a WHILE

my babies ANYWAYS

Diana Prince posts exclusively about her favorite ice cream shops

Bart is the kid whose note is always like “in the hospital👍” / “sick again” / “hate broken ribs I can’t eat seven burgers in this condition” / “got possessed by a death god again :/ third time this week” and it’s like jesus man can you catch a break

can you imagine finding fucking Superman has a verified instagram account but it’s private so you can’t even follow freaking SUPERMAN

Duke Thomas is thoroughly over his siblings’ shit and there’s a ton of videos of them being dumbasses with captions like “someone save me it’s two in the morning”

anyways A COMPILATION OF TRENDS

“nobody move, there’s blood on the floor” for LITERALLY any ship it’s so funny

“what? you’re not coming to my tea party? Bethany, I made BISCUITS” with increasingly low res crack pics of Red Hood falling off of things, generously edited and posted by Tim Drake

dance trends with Steph and Cass

“guess which outfit is whose” with Tim and Steph but they’re both in their Robin uniforms

Tim making a cringey thirst trap edit of Jason who in response posted a clip of Tim tripping his own gear and setting off an alarm

“wearing the same outfit so no one can tell us apart” and it’s all the Batkids in their Robin uniforms (most of which barely fit) ((Bruce and Alfred cried))

the Superkids did the same thing a few days later and dragged Clark into it

not-quite-thirst-traps where they just kinda stand there over music but everyone in normal comments would’ve gone crazy

calisthenics trends. Thanks

it’s like a THING between all the Titans where they’ll sneak up behind each other, yell “THIS IS SPARTA,” and kick each other off roofs

someone sneaking up behind Jason while he’s belting Seasons of Love

MOTORCYCLE CONTENT

somewhere out in the world there’s a shaky, blurry video of Robin, Superboy, Spoiler, Blue Beetle, and Beast Boy dancing to and half-singing-half-yelling Tell Your Girlfriend

if you think of any more social media trends or videos or pics you see that remind you of a hero tag me because I’m obsessed with the idea of these idiots on socials

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voxslays · 5 months ago

Note

could you pretty pls make a velvette x reader one of the haztober days?

COSTUME PARTY

Featuring >>> Vees x Reader (separately); In which, you run into them at a Halloween party, and find yourselves under similar circumstances.

✪ VOX ✪

It was the night of the Voxtek Halloween party, a yearly tradition where the Vee’s threw a huge gala-like party and invited anyone relevant or famous at the time. The invitation list commonly included overlords, Goetia’s, popstars, and actors. One year Lucifer himself even attended. One of the reasons why you were shocked to see the host, Vox, standing in the corner. His presence is imposing, commanding attention without saying a word. His sharp gaze misses nothing, taking in the extravagant costumes and the way the guests interact with each other. His screen lighting up as he puts on his showman persona whenever someone influential stops by.

“Howdy Vox.” You say jokingly, referencing your costume. This year, you were a cowgirl. Vox's gaze snaps towards you as you approach him, his eyes flicking over your costume appreciatively. A small smile plays on his lips as he takes in your attire. “Well, well, if it isn’t a cowgirl. And here I thought you’d go as some mythical creature.” He grins. “Well surprise~” You let out a soft laugh. “So…what are you supposed to be?” You ask, looking him up and down.

“A media mogul.” Vox looks down at his suit, which is identical to the ones he wears to work every day. His only nod to the holiday is a small, golden pin in the shape of a television screen affixed to his lapel. He raises an eyebrow at you. “It’s Halloween. You could’ve atleast tried a little. Both Valentino and Velvette did.” Vox’s expression turns icy at the mention of his partners. He looks around the room, his eyes lingering on a few of the more extravagant costumes before settling back on you. “I don’t need a costume to stand out in a room full of pretenders.” You hum melodically. “Whatever you say.”

Vox's expression softens slightly, a hint of amusement in his eyes. He leans against the wall, his posture relaxed. “You're not going to argue with me? No snappy comeback or clever retort?” You roll your eyes, clutching your drink tighter. “Why would I waste my time with someone so boring?” You taunt. Vox's eyes narrow, a flash of annoyance crossing his face. He steps closer to you, his voice low and dangerous. "Careful, little cowgirl. Push me too far and you might find yourself in a situation you can't charm your way out of."

You hold his gaze, unblinking. After a moment, Vox's face breaks into a wide, predatory grin. "You're playing with fire, you know that? But if you're really not afraid, maybe we should find a private room and...discuss this further." You giggle softly, taking another sip of your beverage. “Only if you’re up for that Mr. Vox.” You tease, brushing the corner of his screen. Vox's breath hitches slightly at your touch, his screen flickering in response. His eyes darken, the predatory grin never leaving his face. "Oh, darling, I'm always up for a challenge."

☆ VELVETTE ☆

The Vees were throwing a Halloween party. They did every year. Over the past year, you had worked closely with Valentino, helping him improve his scripts, and helped Vox with his numbers. However, there was one Vee you didn’t like. Velvette. No matter what you did, she always seemed to critique you, always insulting your outfits, saying how ‘she would never be caught dead in them’. So you were shocked when you showed up to the annual Halloween party in matching witch costumes.

Velvette's head snaps up when she sees you walking in, her eyes narrowing as she takes in your matching witch costume. “Oh, for fuck's sake...” She groans, burying her face back in her arms. “Not you too...” She mutters under her breath, clearly unimpressed. “Aww…sad you can’t criticize me, Velvette?” You ask, mockingly. Velvette's head shoots back up, her eyes flashing with anger. She leans forward on the couch, her voice dripping with venom. "Criticize you? Honey, if I had a dollar for every time I've wanted to rip apart one of your outfits, I'd be rich."

“You can’t tonight, can you?” You bend down, looking into the eyes of the shorter overlord. Velvette's face contorts into a sneer, her arms crossing over her chest. "No, I can't..." She leans back on the couch, her eyes traveling over your body, taking in the details of your costume. "You actually look...pretty.” She huffs. Your eyes widen for a split second, before resuming their neutral gaze. “Aww thanks Velvette.” You pat the small overlord on the head. "Don't get used to it." She mutters, her face flushing slightly as she realizes she had just paid you a compliment. “Just....stop talking before you ruin it.” Velvette sits up and glares at you, her cheeks glowing a dark crimson color.

Thinking the conversation was over, you turn to walk away. Velvette gently grabs your arm, pulling you closer. She huffs, crossing her arms and pursing her lips. "Hey, don't think this makes us friends or something, okay?" She pauses, then adds grudgingly. "or that I'll go easy on you in the future." You simply smirk. “I wouldn’t expect any less.” Velvette's expression softens slightly, a hint of vulnerability flickering in her eyes before she masks it with her usual scowl. "Good." She grumbles, turning her attention back to her phone, her earlier outburst seemingly forgotten.

✧ VALENTINO ✧

You had just arrived at the Vees annual Halloween party, wearing your kitty costume, which was decked out in black and red crystals. You were standing at the beverage table, pouring yourself a glass of (probably) spiked punch from the impressive cocktail fountain. "So, what's your name, Sweetheart?" Valentino asks as he approaches the table, leaning back. His four arms sprawling out casually, but his red, pupil-less eyes remain focused on you. "And what brings a pretty little thing like you to my party?"

“I was invited by Vox.” You say, remembering the tech overlord who you had known for almost half a century. "Ah, the big brain himself, I should've known." Valentino chuckles, his voice a low, rumbling purr. "Well, I must say, Vox has great taste.” You take a sip of your drink, before quickly spitting it out. It was bitter and had an acidic, sour tang. You quickly tossed it in the nearest garbage can, managing to hit the can before the glass hit the ground, shattering all over the floor. “I’ll go clean that up.” You say, beginning to walk away.

"Hold up, carniño." Valentino stands up, his four arms moving with ease as he reaches out and grabs your arm. "You're not cleaning up that mess. I've got people for that." He looks you up and down, his red eyes gleaming with interest. "You know, I could use someone like you around here." He says, his grip on your arm tightening slightly. "Someone with a little attitude, a little spirit. And Vox says you're reliable, so that's a bonus." He leans in closer, his hot breath tickling your ear.

He gently lifts up your chin. "I'm offering you a job, Sweetheart." He pulls back, looking at you with a predatory grin. "Work for me at my studio. I can promise you fame, fortune, and experiences you've never even dreamed of." His four hands move to your shoulders, squeezing gently. “Look..uhm..Valentino-” He presses a finger to your lips. “Val sweetheart.” Valentino says, grinning. “Val.” You correct yourself. “I just, I already work for Vox, and I’m not interested in your industry.” He chuckles, his finger still pressed against your lips. "Well, let me make you an offer you can't refuse." He leans in closer, his face inches from yours. "Work for me part-time. Just a few hours a week."

“And the catch?” Valentino grins, his pink teeth and saliva on full display. "The catch is that you'll be my...personal assistant." He grins mischievously, his eyes glinting with amusement. "You'll handle my schedule, run my errands, that sort of thing. And in exchange, I'll pay you generously." You pause. “I'll consider it.” Valentino's grin widens, clearly pleased with your response. "I thought you might see it my way." He removes his finger from your lips and stands up, his four arms reaching out to help you up. "Excellent."

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yourtoradorasextendedwarranty · 2 months ago

Note

RACIAL GASLIGHTING

"I don't see color"

"Are you sure that's what really happened?"

"It was just a joke."

"It's not always about race"

“Not all cops are bad or racist."

"Not all black people face racism"

"I'm not racist my friend is black."

"Black people should just comply and they won't get killed."

"People might listen if they protested peacefully."

"Just to play the devil's advocate here..."

"This country isn't racist, we had a black president."

"If you're not doing anything illegal you won't have to worry about the police."

"They weren't being racist, maybe you took it the wrong way."

"Martin Luther King Jr was peaceful, why can't you be?"

“Racism doesn't exist anymore."

"Slavery was so long ago.”

You're adorable but congrats on making a strawman. Because even if you're claiming I've said all this is all wildly out of context.

"if you're not doing anything illegal you won't have to worry about the police"

This is true sometimes. But no one in their right mind actually believes this, even if they say it. Because while yes SOMETIMES depending on where you live, this can tend to be true, it's not always.

"I don't see color"

Most people were raised to not in my generation. Rather than treating someone "like a minority" we treated them like a person. It's not that people are literally blind to color. They were just trained to not care about it. Which is honestly where we should be. Not afraid of using speech around people because of their ethnic background.

"This country isn't racist we had a black president"

This country as a whole isn't racist. Some of the people that live here are, but a "racist country" doesn't elect a person to the highest seat is power if they are mostly racist. Get over yourself.

"Black people should just comply maybe they won't get killed"

Statically this is true. So be as much of a shit as you want about it. There are over 3 million interactions with cops yearly a large number of which are black Americans. And MOST all of them end peacefully or with no excessive use of force. Because guess what? Non compliance in the proximity of a cop more than willing to use excessive force? They won't much care what color you are. Reason behind is that it's more about power for them than it is anything else. And yes, that even includes race.

"Are you sure that's what really happened"

How is this fucking gaslighting? This is called reasonable questioning and skepticism because here's the deal. Memory for most people isn't perfect. Not even remotely. And what you perceive to have happened isn't always what actually happened.

Example: I'm with someone who I know has a severe allergy to a certain bug. That bug manages to get in them. My brain thinks, be which and kill it so they are safe. They see me approach them trained in a part of their body. They panic thinking I'm going to hurt them and run off. What I was doing was trying to protect them from something that could kill them. What they saw is a person trying to potentially hurt them.

Most of what's here isn't gaslighting. It's nuanced statement you want to be racist. Or you personally believe such.

Also lastly:

"People might listen if they peacefully protest"

Uh yeah. Actually. BLM lost 90% of it's support less than 2 months after the violence started. Then significantly more after people concerned by the violence started looking into the organization vs the protests. Then the medias shit coverage of all of it. Now support of BLM is mostly ONLY moron activists types that are only good at being told what to think, and often can't think for themselves.

This list is actually stupid. So I'm throwing this to someone for his view on this. @siryouarebeingmocked

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barnesafterglow · 1 year ago

Text

night shift

summary: your growing fame becomes too much for bucky

pairing: actor!bucky barnes x singer!reader

word count: 2k

warnings: fame au, dual pov, unreliable narrators, idk how the grammys work (clearly), angst angst angst, steve is a good friend, bucky is Going Thru It, if you think this is joe + taylor coded you're prob right, directly inspired by night shift by lucy dacus

a/n: yearly fic, dedicated to new lovers

masterlist - i no longer have a tag list but you can follow @theafterglowlibrary to get updates! 🤍

You shoved him off of you, heart racing, breaths coming fast. You had said Bucky’s name, had whispered it in your most intimate moment, and now you needed to leave.

You said nothing else, gathering up your clothes and pulling them on as quickly as you could.

“Wha-”

The door slammed behind you, cold winter winds whipping around you as you realized you’d left your jacket on the hook by the door. It was your favorite, but one you were okay sacrificing as long as you didn’t have to face your embarrassment anymore.

Huffing a breath you could see in front of your face, you called an Uber - at least you had remembered your phone - and paced anxiously a block away from his building, hoping and praying he wouldn’t follow you out.

The entire ride home your mind spiraled until you turned off your phone, terrified this would make headlines already and, let’s be honest, no one would be surprised if it did. You hated that was the life you lived. As if your breakup with Bucky hadn’t already been tabloid fodder for weeks now, the public speculating every detail and warping every comment and photo posted. You had taken to keeping off social media altogether in the time since, trying to disguise your outings as much as possible and take back alleys to recordings and friends’ houses.

Your biggest supporter through all of this, surprisingly, had been Steve - Bucky’s best friend. He hadn’t been your friend first, sure, but he had become like a brother to you nonetheless, and he knew the situation better than anyone. You knew he still talked to Bucky just the same and, while that stung a little, you couldn’t fault him for being there for his childhood best friend too.

Which is how you ended up outside his apartment the very next morning, clad in your typical-as-of-late attire of a hoodie and a hat and sunglasses. It was also how you came face to face with Bucky for the first time since that fateful night.

“I didn’t come to sit here and watch you stare at your feet, James.” You stood from his couch, starting to seethe with pent up anger from your gradually failing relationship, all to end up here. What did he want? To absolve his guilt and shake hands and everything would be fine?

No. You had been the victim of his petty remarks and anxious jealousy for so long. You wouldn’t let him think he deserved your time when he didn’t respect the person you had become.

Your anger flashed back to the week before, the last time you had been seen out in public together as he was breaking up with you at your favorite coffee shop, where he had paid for your drink and you gave him a hesitant kiss, even though you knew it was inevitably coming. He had led you to a table in the corner and proceeded to tell you that he was sorry but he couldn’t do this anymore, it was too much for him - you were too much for him. Okay. That’s all you said was “okay” before you pushed out of the chair and walked around the city until the sun went down.

By the time you got home that night, the headlines were already speculating your breakup, though neither of you had yet to shed a single tear.

Bucky blinked as you shuffled on Steve’s doorstep, eyes wide and contemplating the quickest escape. He didn’t blame you.

He had admittedly not handled your breakup the best; in fact, he regretted it almost immediately at the stricken look on your face, clearly not expecting it. He didn’t blame you for that, either, seeing as it had slipped out in a moment of panic.

You had gained a lot of fame over the course of your relationship, even more than him, and he didn’t quite know how to cope with it. And so the words had poured out, unable to be taken back, and here you were, weeks later, still at odds.

He thought every night of how to make it up to you. Public displays weren’t your thing and you had blocked his number the night of your big fight, so that was out of the question, and he didn’t fancy showing up to your house only to have the door slammed in his face either.

But now, now maybe that you were here on the most neutral ground you could stand on, maybe he could keep his foot out of his mouth and apologize. Words stirred in his hindsight, unable to string together a coherent sentence as your face morphed through the stages of grief in record time. Then, just as he was about to speak, Steve placed a hand on his shoulder and gently guided him back into the house. Relief flooded your face as you drifted out of his sight, and he realized this probably wasn’t going to be as easy to take back as he thought.

“Buck,” Steve said as the two of them turned around the corner. “You need to leave.”

Bucky felt his face do something awful, a mixture of confusion and guilt, but he decided to keep his mouth shut. He simply nodded and kept his head down as he shrugged on his jacket and passed by you in the doorway.

He could hear the soft sound of your sobs as the front door clicked shut.

Songwriting could be as easy as breathing and as hard as climbing a mountain. Right now, the words flooded out of you like a tap of water.

And so did the tears, staining your notebook paper and smearing ink, but still in your heart you knew you would never forget these lyrics - these words that so painstakingly came from your soul and laid it bare.

As you finished the last verse, you took a deep breath, sucked up the tears, and called Natasha.

“Steve, I need to talk to her,” Bucky whined over a beer in a rundown bar in Brooklyn.

“No, you don’t.”

“I can fix it, I know I can.”

“I don’t think you can, Buck.” Steve ran a hand through his hair, a deep sigh leaving his lips. “She’s trying to move on. Don’t ruin that for her.”

“But-”

“No.”

Bucky mimicked Steve’s sigh and leaned back in his chair. It had been increasingly hard to justify his decision to end things with you. He didn’t know what he was thinking and he regretted every moment of it since then.

“Do you think she misses me?” Bucky looked so hopeful, but he could see the sorrow in Steve’s eyes.

“I don’t know.”

The Grammys, the fucking Grammys, and you were performing. You were nominated for a couple, and the Academy had asked you to sing - preferably a new song - in honor of that.

Natasha wrapped you in a hug, twirled you around, and announced you were going out to celebrate. You hesitantly said yes, knowing the press would be everywhere and there was always the possibility of seeing Bucky.

But fuck him. This was your moment.

Which is how you ended up at your favorite dive bar in Brooklyn. Your first mistake.

It was your favorite because Bucky had taken you there so many times. But you couldn’t think of another place you would celebrate than the place where so much inspiration and so many lyrics had come from.

You didn’t scan the room as you walked in with your hand clutching Nat’s, the rest of your small circle of friends following close behind. Your second mistake.

Walking straight to the bar, you didn’t notice Bucky in the far corner, watching your every move. It wasn’t until you were a few drinks in, feeling the celebration kick in, that you spotted him.

At first, you intended to ignore him. This was your time, your night, your moment. He didn’t get the spoil that.

That is, until you went to the bathroom and he trailed you into the dimly lit hallway.

“Baby,” he whispered, his voice a harsh rasp of beer and no sleep. “I’ve missed you.”

Your heart stopped beating in your chest.

You weren’t prepared to see him tonight, not that you ever were these days. But tonight of all nights, the one that should have been carefree and fun and a glittery memory for years to come, was smeared with anger and heartbreak as you spun to face him.

“What the fuck,” you snapped as his fingers grazed your bare arm. Immediately you felt bad, seeing the hurt on his face, and your expression softened. “Sorry.”

“I-it’s okay.” The catch in his voice broke your heart, your own watery eyes matching his. For just a moment.

It took you too long to come to your senses - this was the man who had shattered your heart without a second thought - but he was already so close to you. His body only inches from your own, his hot breath fanning your face, and goddamnit you missed him. You missed him so much that your heart broke all over again.

Your mind cycled through a thousand different thoughts all at once: get away, come closer, touch me, keep your hands off. You couldn’t decide what you wanted in the moment.

You were so, so angry, and yet you couldn’t stop yourself from reaching out to him. His hands settled on your waist as the lights overhead flickered. Your hand pressed gently to his cheek, completely of its own volition. Suddenly, you were tracing the planes of the face you had once known so well. He looked older now, like your time apart had aged him, yet his was still as handsome as the day you had first laid eyes on him.

His eyes locked with yours, and neither of you said a word - not him to ask, not you to stop him - as he leaned in to kiss you.

It should have felt like a victory - it did feel like a victory - but there was something else there. Something dark and twisted and Bucky couldn’t figure out if it was coming from you or him.

The kiss could have lasted moments or a lifetime, he didn’t really know. All he knew was one second you were holding him close to you and the next you were shoving him off.

“Fuck fuck fuck,” your voice came out in a whisper, like you didn’t want to draw attention from the steadily growing crowd of the bar. He supposed you didn’t.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.” You nodded at his words, your fingers pressed to your lips like you could still feel him there. “I’ll just go.”

You nodded again, your eyes vacant, and he made his way back to the main room of the bar. He looked back in time to see you slump against the wall, and he knew that you were thinking of a way to erase any trace of him on you.

The stage lights came on, you strummed your guitar and started to sing.

The first time I tasted somebody else’s spit, I had a coughing fit.

You let the lyrics you poured your heart into spill out across the stage. Still, somehow - in the crowd of hundreds of faces - you spotted Bucky.

This time, it didn’t make your heart clench. Didn’t make you shed a tear or run away.

No. This time, it empowered you. Let him hear the lyrics he inspired. Let him feel that pain of your words and feel the hole in your heart where he had broken it. Where you were now healing.

Bucky watched as you sang, and you were mesmerizing. He could feel the echoes of hurt in your words, the hole in your heart he had put there. He knew, despite the last time he saw you, that there was no making up. There was no fixing what was well beyond broken. No chance for him.

In five years I hope the songs feel like covers,

Dedicated to new lovers.

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siriuslychessi · 6 months ago

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Hello!

For those of you that filled this poll officially we have an exchange! For those of you who didn't vote, don't worry you are still invited to join ☺️

The Potterverse Gift Exchange is a yearly thing, and it is done to end the year with something nice and fun to be look forward to. We welcome everyone from the fandom, if you are thinking of participating please reblog to spread the word with the tag: #PotterverseGiftExchange2024

You can sign up here.

Please read the FAQ and rules under the cut before signing in.

Who can participate? Everyone from the Potterverse fandom. Because it keeps growing. Anyone with an AO3 account, because this year we are trying to do something a little different (that hopefully saves my sanity).

Can you participate if you don't do fics but other media? Of course! AO3 allows different media to be uploaded so you can add it there.

I want to be involved but I don't have the time? Reblog to spread the word! And comment on the works once they are posted! New works and fun for everyone!

RULES

- You must be at least 18 to participate, some people might request NSFW prompts. - You must tag properly, the tags are to archive and find the right side of fandom, not to reach any algorithm. - This is a fun event, for everyone involved. - Respect each other. This is a hard rule, if you start bashing anyone for their preferences you will be taken out from the list. It is important to know that we have differences but that doesn’t mean we need to spread hate around our fun groups. - Ship and let ship. There is a space for everyone, and we will try to make it so, even if we all agree to disagree. - Communicate. If you have any issues whatsoever with the timeframes, the prompts, etc, please communicate. We want everyone to have a gift by the end of the year. If you can not make it, or need more time, or whatever it is, we will understand, we have backup creators in case something happens. - All creations should be posted by December 29th. Extensions can be granted if informed. - Most important of all: HAVE FUN!!!

Other things: - Only the non sensitive information will be shared (prompts), everything else is deleted after the works have been submitted for privacy reason. - You can submit things to other platforms, but it can not be before the deadline, so we can all be surprised by the same date.

#PotterverseGiftExchange2024 #potterverse #harry potter #hinny #jily #marauders #tedromeda #lucissa #blackinnon

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rockmiyabideusexmachina · 3 months ago

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2025 Megaman Secret Valentine Event Signups *Closed*

^*Art drawn by Soul Rokkuman

While I wait for the last couple Secret Santa gifts to arrive, going to move on to opening the next yearly event. Even though last year I went back to Valentine's Day being in contest format, I feel like it's worth swapping back to a gift art event this year, to mix it up again. Truth be told, just hard to brainstorm much new for categories right now. And my contest prize plans are better off for summer, when more people are able to participate. (I do have a few nice prizes I plan to give away for that ;D ). So rather than rushing those plans, just going to keep this event more relaxed once more. For those who didn't participate 2 years ago, the Secret Valentine Event works much like Robot Rumpus/Megaman Secret Santa. Sign up with the intent to draw, by providing a list of your favorite characters and couples, that you would like as a Valentine gift. After signups close you will receive a target, with the goal of drawing something from their list for them, to send them as a Valentine.

Sign Up Instructions: 1.) When you are ready, either post a reply in this thread or send me a DM via tumblr or Bluesky or sign up through my Discord server: (https://discord.gg/EjHZJ7D3Xm), stating that you intend to sign up to draw for someone. 2.) In your reply/message, please include a wish list with a minimum of 3 prompts, either individual fave characters or couples from the Megaman franchise, that you would be happy to have drawn for you as Valentine’s gift art. Megaman-related OCs are OK, but please include at least one canon character. 3.) Let me know if you can be a backup artist or not, if someone has to drop out/can't complete their gift

Artwork does not necessarily have to be romance themed, but it is preferred to fit with the holiday. But some singles are happy by themselves on the day of love, so you can certainly find a way to make single characters feel appreciated/loved in your art, too.

Any kind of artstyle and medium are welcome, with the exception of AI slop. Has to be your own work only.

Signups will run from today until Tuesday, Jan. 14th, 2025.

That gives you one week to sign up.

On Wed. the 15th, Cupid Wily and I will message everyone back with their assignment, and their assignment’s wish list. Then you will have one month to create your gift art for your Secret Valentine.

Secret Valentine’s art will be due Friday Feb. 14th, 2025, by the global end of the day.

But I'll work in a week or so grace period if people need an extension. It would be nice if gifts were given on Valentine's Day, but since this won't be a competition, I'll be a little flexible if people need a little more time than a month to draw. While the gift should go to your recipient first and foremost, please also either send them my way when you are finished or tag me in a public post so that I can save the art. I will then compile all the art into a homemade Valentine’s Day shoebox gallery/thread like I usually do for contests. That way everyone can view them together in one place just as easily.

Please do not post your art before Feb. 14th!

Ideally, send your secret valentine their gift at any point on Valentine's Day itself. Either through DM or publicly tagging them in a post on your social media of choice. Posts can also be made in the valentine's day channel in the Fanart Contests and Events section of my Discord.

Any other questions, or something you felt I forgot to address? Feel free to ask.

I’ll edit a confirmed participant list in this thread as I receive them. (Just like I need to edit the year to 2025, because I really screwed that up initially! LOL)

*Confirmed participant list* (W/backup status)

Lunna Cupcake N LadyStormtail1985 N SunnyJustice Y RockmanGurl Y @axlthemaverickhunter Y Jay Sky Y @digitallyfanged Y @burntbeebs Y Elle Y Dr. Fresh Y SkipperdeesArt Y @sparkpop N @drewblossom Y @dahlia-the-nurd N @zeibei Y

1/15 *All assignments have been sent out! Check your DMs for your target. Thanks, everyone!

#Rockman #Megaman #Mega Man #Rock Miyabi's 2025 Megaman Secret Valentine Event

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heavenlyyshecomes · 2 years ago

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recs directory

all my book / articles / film recs !! please check before sending an ask for recs <3 (this are mostly from 2020-22 so don't hesitate to ask for newer recs)

last updated: 13.04.2024

books

essay collections

short books for a reading slump

old wlw books

on generational trauma

social media accs for book recs women in translation MET art books on loneliness / pt. 2 lithub syllabi arthurian + atmospheric on internet culture gentle books underrated favs 2022 reads fav prose quarterly book recs summer reading list: 2021, 2022, 2023, 2024 monsoon reading list: 2022 yearly tbr: 2022, 2023 random fiction, pt. 2, pt. 3*, pt. 4*, pt. 5*, nonfiction yearly fav reads: 2019*, 2021 on colour theory* drive link to books*

sff recs related tags: ref: mine, ref, book recs, book log

articles

misc readings tag random recs

places to read articles related tags: readings, articles

films

short films horror films random recs fav first watches: 2022 related tags: movie log

#ref: mine #mine #regretted this 5 mins in when i realised i have more recs than i thought #ok to rb but this is mostly to add to my pinned #asterisked have links to epubs /pdfs :-)#save

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thereoncewasagirlnamedjane · 22 days ago

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LOVE TASTES LIKE STRAWBERRIES.

PAIRING — baker!colin shea x patisserie f!reader

CONTENTS — one-shot; modern au; alternate universe—bakery; rivals in love; fluff; coarse language.

SUMMARY — You have a standing rivalry with the bakery across town, but you know what they say: there’s a thin line between love and hate. And despite how much you act like it, you don’t actually hate Colin Shea.

WORD COUNT — 3.3k

✩ main masterlist ✩ chris evans characters m.list ✩ library blog

“Hey, Princess!”

You bite back a groan, trying to ignore it, hoping against hope that you were just hearing things.

But then you hear it again. “Over here, your highness!”

Finally, you turn towards the sound of the voice and are met with a pair of familiar blue eyes and that infuriating grin. Colin Shea jabs a thumb in the direction of your stall, the one right next to his, as it has been every year.

Your biggest mistake was deciding to check out the competition after hearing there was a new contender in town. You saw the name of a bakery you didn’t recognize on the list of participants in that year’s spring fling festival.

The event? A baking contest. The prize? $5,000 in cash and publicity for your store. Despite not winning that first year, the contest shone a spotlight on your shop, Queen of Tarts, and you saw a decent boost in sales in the month following the festival. Needless to say, you resolved to compete every year since.

Rockin’ Rolls, the new bakery that opened up across town, was exactly like you expected: lots of natural light, bare white walls, gallon-sized jars full of flour and sugar lined up on shelves painted a light minty green, and wooden display cases that looked like they were handcrafted.

It was a quaint little place, and despite the sweet smell of fresh bread wafting out from the kitchen, their displays showcased a wide selection of breads, pastries, cakes, and pies. Evidently, they sold much more than just rolls.

The owner of said establishment, however, was not at all what you expected… and you ended up, well, checking out the competition in a whole different way.

Frustratingly handsome, easygoing boyish charm, and a sense of humour you’d find endearing if it didn’t belong to your sworn enemy, Colin was a pain in your ass but looked damn good while he was at it. Not only could he be charming, he was a master of bread. The first day you visited his bakery, you bought a loaf of brioche that was so rich, so buttery, yet so light and airy that it almost had you in tears.

Your pride, though, kept you from going back for more.

Because he was also absolutely insufferable. At first, you enjoyed the dose of healthy competition, the two of you always good-natured and lighthearted about it. The rivalry soon became an all-out feud, however, as it turned out both of you were frighteningly competitive… and very sore losers.

Soon, Colin’s laidback attitude became a source of unending irritation, while he seemed to find your background—namely your rich parents—personally offensive. You’ve engaged in a yearly bake-off ever since, both your storefront windows featuring an actual tally squeaked on with marker. The winner threw obnoxiously smug celebration parties, tagging the loser in photos and videos posted on social media.

“Aren’t you a little old for the name-calling, Shea?” You snark, taking in his slightly tousled hair and casual attire, a dark t-shirt smeared with flour and dark jeans torn at the knees.

“Calm down. You know it suits you,” Colin replies mockingly. “Naive and privileged heiress, out here slumming it with us peasants.”

“Don’t you know—” you say through gritted teeth as you set up your station. The proximity of your tents has both of your staff groaning in frustration, but neither of you are phased. “—that you shouldn’t ever tell a woman to ’calm down’ unless you want to get punched in the dick?”

“Aw, sweetheart, if you wanted to touch my dick that badly, why didn’t you just say so?” He smirks as he kneads his dough, the muscles in his arms bulging nicely with the effort. It takes every last ounce of willpower not to stare at them.

“I’d rather be set on fire,” you mutter to yourself, lying through your teeth, rolling out your own pastry dough for your tart crusts.

“And did I ever tell you how cute that name is? Queen of Tarts, how adorable,” he pouts, pointing a flour-covered finger to the sign hanging from your tent. His voice holds a slightly mocking tone, but you’re determined to let it slide off your back.

“Yeah, so you should be calling me ’your majesty’ instead,” you sneer.

“You haven’t earned that title yet, Princess. And your little strawberry tarts won’t be enough to win you that prize.”

“My tarts were famous long before you showed up, I’ll have you know.”

“For what, being a giant disappointment? That pastry is way too thin.”

“I know what I’m doing. I was making these with my eyes closed while you were still learning how to proof bread!”

“The weight of your custard is gonna break those things in half before anyone can even eat it. Not to mention all that fruit you’re about to pile on top.”

“You know,” you shake your head, rolling out the chilled dough. “Someone ought to teach you a lesson.”

“Yeah, you think you can teach a man like me?” Colin grins, wiggling his eyebrows. “Silk sheets, candlelight… the gentle strains of Kenny G?”

“Ew, stop it.”

“Why? Afraid you’d like it too much, rich girl?”

“Ugh,” you groan in disgust, turning away to concentrate on your pastry. “Just you fucking wait. This is gonna be the best thing you’ve ever had, and then I’ll have you admit that you don’t know jack shit.”

It occurs to you then that Colin has never actually had any of your pastries. All of the times you two had competed, not just in the festival, the two of you would automatically declare yourselves the winner—the rules be damned. And after the fact, while you couldn’t help but secretly partake in the loaves of freshly baked focaccia, ciabatta, and sourdough, Colin has never once touched the tarts you’ve so painstakingly made with love.

The pastry Colin deemed too thin, you had down to a science, filled with smooth and creamy perfectly sweet custard. On top are strawberries you sliced so thin they could be arranged into the shape of a blooming flower, brushed with shiny red glaze, dusted with powdered sugar, and garnished with a few adorably tiny green leaves of apple mint.

When you win the top prize this year, much to your satisfaction, the other staff at Rockin’ Rolls gladly grab at your famous confections, showering you with appreciative mmm’s and ahh’s. Colin, however, remains at his station, cleaning away and looking pouty as he usually did whenever you beat him at something.

“Come now, Mr. Shea, don’t be a sore loser,” you tease, despite the fact that you were probably much worse, ignoring the way Colin noticeably bristle at the sound of your voice. You hand over a plate with a single strawberry tart placed gingerly on top of the white porcelain. “I’ll be generous and share my winning creations.”

Generosity, sure. Deep down inside, way past the rivalry and annoyance, you held a reluctant respect for Colin. Despite his carefree attitude and sometimes crude jokes, the man is serious about yeast. He turns into a different man once he steps into the kitchen, his eyebrows knit together in concentration, all signs of the immature jokester you’ve come to know disappears. Or at least, pushed momentarily aside.

His hands gently mold doughs into various shapes, handling them with such care that sometimes you didn’t recognize the baker in front of you. You remember that first taste of brioche, how that masterpiece had come from the heart of this giant man-child, and it was impossible not to admire Colin Shea the bread artisan.

So, you wanted to know what he thought about what you could do. It was one thing to own a mildly successful business, but another thing entirely to share your creations with someone who knew what the whole process entailed.

“I’m allergic, your highness,” Colin merely says, not even looking up as he wipes down his flour-dusted workstation.

Your jaw drops. “What?”

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, don’t you also have some cleaning up to do?” Colin glances over your shoulder to bark out orders to his staff, who quickly finish the rest of your tarts before going back to their stations. They give you friendly pats on the shoulder as they pass, showering you with more compliments, just as your staff does for them, like they all do every year regardless of the outcome of the competition and despite the childish rivalry of their bosses.

Except you can’t enjoy it this time. You take back your plate, the dessert still intact, bringing it back to your own tent where you would pick at it for the rest of the festival until it was time to go home.

Because you know for an undisputed fact that Colin is not, in fact, allergic to strawberries.

He’d lied to your face.

You can handle the jokes, the snide remarks, and his mocking tone… but if there was one thing you wouldn’t ever let slide, it was dishonesty.

Colin says goodnight to the last of his part-timers as they head out the door of the shop. Everyone had piled into the van and helped him reload all their supplies back into their kitchen before heading home for the day, but he stays behind long after closing time. It’s nearly midnight, but he opens the fridge and pulls out a small yellow box.

Queen of Tarts is written in loopy pink script, a little bejeweled crown hanging off the capital T. It’s a logo Colin knows well. One of his employees had saved this for him, not knowing he had already declined your offer earlier at the festival with a bald-faced lie.

They said it was the best strawberry tart they’d ever had, “But you knew that already, right, boss?”

He didn’t.

In all the years you two had competed, Colin could never bring himself to actually try one of the tarts you were so proud of.

For the two of you, baking wasn’t just about making money. It wasn’t even always about what you made. It was about expression, about the way food, even the mere thought or smell of it, could bring out emotions and memories long buried.

The only reason strawberries were your signature item was because your father took you strawberry picking as a child, you once shared with him. Colin found himself smiling at the mental image, of a younger you making fresh strawberry jam at the farm, sampling it with pieces of soft bread, only to be broken out of his reverie when you turned away out of embarrassment, demanding that he forget about it.

And baking bread was a whole other beast. It required patience, love, and care. Colin insisted on kneading the dough by hand, the industrial-sized mixer at the shop often going unused. He always tells anyone who would listen that it doesn’t taste right otherwise, which is what his grandmother told him when she’d taught him everything he knows.

Food contained histories and legacies, lessons of love carried throughout generations. To partake in a meal prepared for you by someone else, no matter how brief or how small, was incredibly intimate.

And Colin definitely didn’t do intimate.

Every romantic encounter was fleeting and casual, the terms made abundantly clear before he ever partook. He felt no guilt when the women he slept with walked away hurt, because it wasn’t his fault they expected more when he explicitly stated over and over that he couldn’t give it to them.

And then he met you, and for the first time he was the one who wanted more. He wondered if he could ever change for you, if he could be man enough to swallow that fear of commitment and just tell you all the things he felt whenever he looked upon your face—even if he couldn’t exactly find the words big enough, right enough, to describe them.

Colin had expected a typically sugary-sweet proprietress of Queen of Tarts, naive about the ways of the real world, your path paved by privilege and by dollars you hadn’t earned but instead inherited.

But what he got was a bolt out of the blue and the knowledge he had misjudged you. There was a fire in your eyes unlike any he’d ever seen in another person, a stubbornness to prove your worth and your place in this world, to get by without the help of your immensely wealthy parents.

Like the first blossoms of spring, colour slowly bled into his black and white world, as though his life didn’t really begin until your arrival in it.

And he knew that the moment he gave into his desires and took a bite out of your carefully constructed custardy treats, he would know what love truly tasted like.

He wouldn’t be able to pretend any longer.

Colin looks down at the lone strawberry tart, looking just as perfect and sweet as they always do. In the privacy of his own shop, alone in the middle of the night, remembering the way you’d looked at him when he lied about being allergic, he finds his resolve faltering.

Because before any of his hopes could ever take flight, they were dashed just as quickly. Just four words uttered a week ago after he won another meaningless bet, after he had proceeded to rub your nose in it.

“God, I hate you so much.” You’d muttered it under your breath as you rolled your eyes, turned away from him so you couldn’t see the surprise and hurt that was surely laced right into his features.

A part of him shouted that the words were merely said in jest, that you only mumbled them out of irritation because—even he has to admit—he was being a colossal dick.

But another part of him realized you’ve never actually smiled in his direction. You have done it around him, at your patrons and your friends, at his employees who unlike him were always nice to you, but the second your eyes met his, the smile would drop.

He knows the remedy. He could just stop being an ass, pour on the effortless charm that seems to work on most of the women he’s encountered. Except, he just can’t. Colin sighs.

Despite your hatred, he likes watching you get angry at him. Not that he enjoys making you mad, he simply likes it when you give just as much as you get, not letting anything deter you until you’d proved him wrong. He likes that you challenge him, that you aren’t afraid to be you around him.

Then, a sudden frantic series of knocks on his shop door startles him into tossing the tart back into the fridge. Uttering a string of curses, he moves to finish closing up and ignore the stranger at the door, until—

“Open up, Shea! I know you’re in there.” Colin’s heart jumps to his throat at the sound of your voice. He freezes for a moment, listening to your fist continue to pound against the door. But then he manages to collect himself, slapping on that arrogant smile before opening up.

“Well, what brings you here at this time of night?” He asks, but before he can continue with an inappropriate booty call joke, a second yellow box is shoved under his nose.

“You are going to eat every last crumb of this tart,” you slam the box down onto the counter. “I don’t fucking care if you really are ‘allergic’ all of a sudden.”

“Uh, that’s called murder, your highness.”

“Every. Last. Crumb.” You emphasize each word with a jab of your finger against his chest. Colin wonders why he can see hurt laced in your features, too.

If you hate him, why does his opinion even matter to you? For the first time, Colin can’t immediately tell what a woman is thinking, and it’s driving him mad.

But if you were privy to his thoughts, you’d tell him it’s because everyone knows a good and true rivalry is born and built out of mutual respect.

People just don’t bother with someone they don’t hold in high esteem. And if you really did hate him, if he really did hate you, then what was the goddamn point?

It can’t be just for the glory of being crowned the best, or the prize money; you’ve seen him in action too many times to believe that. This shared thing isn’t just a passion for either of you, it’s a way of life. It’s everything.

“You hate me,” he says, but it comes out more like a question, the confusion evident in his voice. People don’t bring sweet strawberry tarts to someone they hate.

“So? And you hate me. That’s how this works,” you say, clearly taken aback. Your voice grows unsteady at the way he looks at you, taking a few nervous steps back as he stalks toward you.

“Except it’s not,” Colin stops just inches from you, so close he can smell the combined scent of sugar and butter latched onto your clothes. “Not even close.”

“…Why aren’t you wearing a shirt?” You wrinkle your nose. Even now, in the middle of a confrontation, after hinting that he is absolutely hopeless for you, Colin can’t help but love your timing even if it’s also frustrating as hell. He grins.

“It was hot.”

“Then take off your hoodie and not the shirt?”

“You want me to take my clothes off?”

“What? No, I—”

“You hate me, though? Tell me the truth.”

“No way. You lied to me earlier,” you finally look up at him, glaring. “And if I’m being totally honest, it’s the lack of effort that really grinds my gears. If you’re going to lie, at least do it well.”

“I don’t hate you.” Colin says, still smiling. He wants so badly to touch you.

“Well, good, I don’t hate you either.” The store goes still, the two of you maintaining eye contact until the silence is almost too much to bear. “No idea where you got that from, anyway.”

He laughs, incredulous. “Because you said it.”

“No, I didn’t! When?”

“Last week.”

“Oh, you mean when you were being a dick?”

“Not uncommon, Princess. Be more specific.”

“In my defence, you were being an ass.”

“Again… not uncommon.” Smirking, Colin reaches out to brush his fingers against yours. His eyes never leave yours, trying to gauge just how far he can go. You don’t move even as your fingers intertwine, even as he tugs you gently towards the kitchen, picking up the box from the counter and pulling a matching one out of his fridge.

Realization slowly dawns and you finally smile at him. Colin thinks he’ll melt into the floor, it’s so damn brilliant.

The two of you sit in his kitchen, illuminated by nothing but the small light from the nearby stove and the moon outside the window, partaking in sweet treats that would be gone in just a matter of minutes. But even long after the plates are cleared and washed, you and Colin would remember this night.

You would remember you spent the rest of the night learning the recipe for his famous brioche, after reluctantly admitting you still have dreams about it. You would remember the way his eyes sparkled at your admission, his hands covering yours as he helped you knead the dough. The laughter at the way you ruined the first batch by adding way too much butter, the countertop and your fingers covered in a sticky mess.

As you washed your hands in the sink, Colin asked if you would come by again because “learning how to make bread is a process, Princess”.

Colin would remember you saying yes, trying to sound nonchalant but turning away shyly and unable to meet his eyes. He would remember it being more intimate than anything he’d ever shared with anyone, committing to memory that he had been right.

Love tasted like fresh strawberries, buttery pastry, smooth custard, and just the tiniest tingles of mint.

But, and this was the most important part—only if they came from your hands.

fin.

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