#and to an even more prestigious magazine than the one you asked

[andthatscanon]

[mead-iocre]

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spoiled!reader who grew up going to a prestigious boarding school nestled between mountains in switzerland. breakfast at the dinning hall involved freshly baked pastries, aristinal breads, cheese boards, and locally sourced fruits that aren't even in seaosn. she gets taught latin on wednesdays and fridays, and horseback riding is part of the curriculum. fencing was optional, and the classes were always crowded, so she chose polo instead. the uniform was a crisp white blouse, tucked neatly into the pleats of italian cotton plaid skirt. the navy blazer, with the school crest—a silver eagle-- hand embroidered and shining proudly on the pocket. shoes had to be only the finest leather shoes, matte not shiny so no one stands out, and preferably with a inch or two heel for the girls. she detested the uniforms because it made everyone bland and constricted individual expression. also: her miu miu heels were not made to wear with an ugly plaid skirt.

as a result of being away from home so often for most of her childhood, she grows up quite detached from her parents. she's independent but because she really had no other choice. birthdays and christmases were always lavish, but never sentimental. every year she would get an email from her parents with a short, straight forward "happy birthday" and some more money added to her card that day. even though her family had a lot of it, money was always conditional. father’s greetings over the phone always start with “if” and mother’s favourite word was “but”.

"if you continue to get full merits on your quarterly report cards then we'll buy you that bag you've been asking for" or "your teacher says you have gone down a rank-- from top of the class to third which isn’t too bad but it’s disappointing" and "if you want to be home for Christmas, you'll finish and submit your project early or else Daddy won't pay for a flight"

as a result, spoiled!reader grew up thinking money was conditional. that whenever someone spent money on her, she needed to do something to earn it. but when she met leah that all changed. spoiled!reader will never forget their first date when she offered to split the bill (like she does with every single date she has ever been on), but leah adamantly refused. she waited for the condition to come, the "well since I payed you for you, owe me another date" because it always came sooner or later, but there was none. leah ended up getting that second date, and the third and the fourth...

so now as you ascend the stairs into the looming doors of the school entrance, it isn't as scary anymore. what used to be a place of dullness and routine, is now a mere memory tucked into the furthest places in your mind. you pull the hand that's holding leah, eagerly stepping into the grand foyer where you recognizes a few familiar faces. your pink Fendi heels, shiny not matte because you want to stand out, click clanking against the marble floor as you lead leah into the high school class reunion. some of the people in this room you have not seen once in 10 years.

"are you ready to meet the most pretentious, self-absorbed people you'll ever meet?" you whispers to your lover.

leah entwines your fingers together and gives you a grin. "remember, the safe word is apples"

in the middle of the conversation between acquaintances not friends, they speak about their current lives. subtle drags about how they can appear more fulfilled and better than the woman standing next to them. talks about law school and medical school, about how hard it's been to manage their careers. fruitless stories about how they were all busy these days that it was even a miracle they could attend the reunion. eventually, they turn their conversation to you. "what are you doing these days?"

swallowing the last sip of vintage white, you smile. "I still work at the magazine but part time now"

"oh."

you catch the note of pity in their voices, willing yourself to hold the smile threatening to crack on your face. you wanted to yank the tacky pearl necklace that rests against her collarbones. Veronica never liked you, even back then.

"Don't you want to do something with your life? You know, instead of wasting your days at some desk job"

Leah stiffens beside you, her grip on your hand tighter than it was a minute ago.

"I don't mind it, actually", your reply is curt. "My job allows flexibility for when I have to join Leah for away games and whenever I have to travel with her for work. One day we'll be in London and the next day we'll be in New York for fashion week events"

They nod along but they're obviously not too impressed. which is fine because you weren't here to impress them or participate in this little game they've invented about who has a better life post-high school. "I'm actually quite spoiled these days"

"Ahh still being spoilt by mummy and daddy?" she meant it teasingly probably but you caught the hint of scorn in her tone.

From your peripheral, you notice Leah talking a small step forward, positioning herself so that she is almost shielding you from the rest of them. her height towering slightly over the other women in your group. you notice the stiffness in her jaw and the way her eyebrows lift in mockery. she chuckles slightly into the rim of her wine glass "yeah her daddy definitely spoils her"

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idk what I just wrote but i typed out that last bit with the biggest cheesy grin on my face lol

I'm sorry if this wasn't exactly what you were asking for, anon. if you want something else please send me another prompt in my inbox <333333

*This work is my original creation. Please don’t copy, share, or translate it without asking for my permission. Thanks for respecting that!

[schmergo]

If you think I was a kid who loved to read, you’d be right, but that doesn’t just mean I was reading, like, Newbery Award nominated prestigious children’s novels. Because in my experience, most kids who love to read are more gourmand than gourmet. I was also reading:

* Class rosters. I begged my teachers for these. I wanted to try to memorize everyone’s middle names.

* Similarly, old yearbooks. I liked judging whether people’s names matched their faces and making up different names for them if they did. I also loved reading baby name books and making lists of names I liked.

.* The personals section of the newspaper. I liked picturing the people as they described themselves and imagining which combination of people on the page might like each other.

* The ingredients of food packages. Not even for any real informational reason, I just really liked certain fantasy-sounding words like thiamine and riboflavin.

* An old World Book Encyclopedia from the 1970s. I would sneak out of bed to read it because the bookshelf was near my bedroom door and I could crawl to it without making the floor creak. My favorite entries were the ones about Hawaii and tigers. I kinda developed a ritual of rereading the Hawaii article when I had read a scary book before bed and needed to calm my brain down.

* My dad’s Dave Barry and Woody Allen humor books and also transcripts of all of the Monty Python’s Flying Circus episodes. This is probably why my sense of humor has been so weird from such a young age.

* The part of the church hymnal with ceremonies for baptisms, weddings, and funerals. I liked to imagine them.

* Wine catalogs at friends’ houses. The descriptions of the wines seemed so poetic and abstract. I also liked when they said “fruit on the nose” because I pictured a dog balancing a whole piece of fruit on its nose.

* My parents’ parenting books. I liked to see if I was exhibiting developmentally appropriate behavior. I am not 100% sure if doing that is, in fact, developmentally appropriate behavior.

* Those little brochures advertising various roadside attractions and tourist activities at rest shops. I would grab as many as possible when we stopped to use the bathroom on a road trip. Also, travel guides in general.

* I checked out the entire “unexplained” section of the library over the course of third grade. (Dewey decimal 001.9.) Ask little me about Project Blue Book, I guess.

* I LOVED party planning books, especially ones with highly specific themed parties that seemed impractical to put on in real life like a whole chess-themed party culminating in a game of human chess, complete with lemon chess pie for dessert.

* Seed packets. I find the writing style of these very endearing. It always sounds so affectionate toward the plants.

* My grandma’s Reader’s Digest magazines, which felt like Russian roulette because they sometimes published disturbing articles that gave me nightmares. (Reader’s Indigestion?) I especially vividly remember a feature on adopted kids who need to wear Ilizarov apparatuses to straighten their limbs because they became malformed due to severe neglect at orphanages.

* For some reason, I loved reading restaurant menus and imagining what kind of food different fictional characters would order from there.

* And last but certainly not least, because I think this is a relatable one: the AMERICAN GIRL CATALOG! No, I never had an American Girl doll, but getting the catalog was a source of much excitement.

[seriiousgiirl]

Sweet Juice

Severus Snape x Alumni!reader.

NFSW! Basically (fluffy) smut with a massive plot. //! Incorrect use of Potions.

Severus is 30 years old in this fic, you are 23, minor age gap. 

Summary: Ever since your youth, you were passionate about the art of Potions. Luckily, during your time at Hogwarts, you found a mentor in the strict and cold Professor Snape. Having made a habit of spending hours after class talking to him, all of this came to an abrupt end during your final year. Leaving you in a total mystery, with no answers.  It was only years later that you took your revenge, in the hope of moving on. Not suspecting that it would bring you face to face with your deepest desires. 

A/N: I admit I could have turned this into a multi-chapter fanfic, but I figured that would break the rhythm, so enjoy this long read! This fic is inspired by ‘Sweet Juice’ by Purple Kiss, go stream it for a better life! Trust me (;

Word count: 14k. (hehe)

"Ah- Miss Y/f/n, please accept this price. It is an honour to be able to reward young talents like yourself." The little cup was hurriedly placed in your hands.

"It is an honour to be awarded with this prestigious prize," You politely thanked the crowd.

Your eyes lingered on the name of the prize, ‘Research & Development, winner of the best potion of the year'. And without even realising it, your lips drew a somewhat smug smile. Standing upright, ready to have your photo done, to appear in the next edition of the Daily Prophet, with pride, you held the cup in your hands. In that busy room, you were the youngest. And yet, you are the one who has been praised for your achievements. Earning jealous glares from the potion makers, who coveted it as much as you did.

"Miss, can you tell us more about your potion, how did you get the idea?" You were asked, for what you guessed was now an actual interview.

"I wanted to be able to help the Wizards and Witches to unwind more easily, it is sometimes difficult to let go of work pressure and its boredom. That is why I decided to study Amortentia, and its derivations, in order to create a potion capable of releasing in us the hormones necessary to enjoy ourselves... Without the negative effects of the ancient Potions." You explained, in the simplest way possible to the journalists.

"So it's a potion that gets you aroused?" One adds.

You frowned, a little offended by this shortcut, "Yes, in theory, but it goes deeper than that. Otherwise, I wouldn't be rewarded today. But if you want to know, you have to taste it... All the reviews have been very positive." You commented, with a wink. 

To summarise months, almost a whole year of research, is almost an insult to your work. Amortentia is one of the most dangerous potions. Studying it to the point of understanding its mechanism and removing the obsession it causes, was the greatest achievement of the process. The rest was just a series of experiments, an understanding of the human body and its hormones, and it was done. 

The result was prodigious, it brought a sense of relaxation, without the risk of an eternal sleep like the Draught of Peace. Comfort and love, without the risk of being manipulated by an evil liquid. And then, depending on the quantity used, the effects could be more or less intense, but never dangerous. Quite remarkable, considering all the side effects that most Potions could provide. 

You deserve your reward tonight for many reasons, no one else has been able to do it in the past.

“Have you always held an interest in the subject?" The interview proceeded, to have some content for the beloved magazine.

"Yes, since my school days at Hogwarts. I quickly found a vocation in the subject, expressing my talents at an early age.” You paused, before continuing, "But it would never have been possible without the support of my teacher and mentor, Severus Snape, who taught me everything. His talent is second to none, and next to it, I am nobody, even after tonight." You humbly added, with another smile.

At the end of this sentence, your eyes searched for a certain dark silhouette. 

Unlike earlier, that smile was particularly forced on your lips. To say that he had supported you was a fine lie. While at first he was indeed ‘supporting’ you (more like a tolerating you), graciously accepting you to attend his prestigious private Potion club, the entirety of your last year was a failure. 

In your first years, you never had to face his wrath and nasty comments, simply because he couldn't blame you for anything. Your work was perfect, from theory to application. But to him, you were nothing.

With time, and your growing skills, things changed. There was a time when you even assumed that an understanding had developed between the two of you, you were not friends, it was impossible with such a man, but it wasn’t nothing either. Eventually, the discussions after class or the club, sharing theories and experiences, became quite regular. Sometimes up to dinner hour, and even after curfew, the time went by so quickly in these periods, as neither of you paid attention, caught up in the interaction. After all, the discussions were very entertaining, between two Potions enthusiasts, and you gained a lot of knowledge from them.

Perhaps because you had succeeded to raise his esteem for you, Professor Snape, during class, would give you one of his infrequent compliments on your methods, or provide you with advice while experiencing in the club. Over time, you came to really treasure this exclusive ‘bond’, with such a cold and distant person. It would be a lie to say that in every class, your shared private discussions weren't the moment you were most looking forward to. You felt special.

You couldn't remember exactly when or how this routine started, it had developed naturally during the end of your fifth year and lasted all the way through to the sixth. However, you could remember bitterly how it had ended. 

By the start of your final year at Hogwarts, a cold shoulder from Professor Snape had begun to creep between the two of you. He no longer commented on your work, or even dared to give you one of his rare compliments. It was simply as if you didn't even exist. This drastic change was particularly noticeable when you tried to revive another discussion after class, only to be rejected. 'I don't have time Miss Y/f/n', 'I've got too much work', 'Go, and revise', these were, obviously, bland excuses. 

You had spent time thinking about it, trying to understand this radical change, but nothing could be found. The discussions had never overflowed on personal information, at least on his side, you - You had been more talkative. And again, nothing major, just simple information like your preferences in terms of flowers, cake flavours, and favourite literature. It never looked like it bothered him to listen to you, and yet strangely enough it seemed to interest him. But, in the end, most of the talk was about Potions, nothing odd that should have ended it all brutally.

In the course of your discussions, you had always expressed an interest in a career in the field, and Professor Snape had consequently supported you (in his own way) in this idea. In all honesty, having his approval really encouraged you. Until, once again, your senior year. While you had been able to get decent, if not perfect, results up to this point, the downfall continued when you saw your grades drop for unfair reasons. You had never witnessed his unfair grading, but when you became one of his victims, he was unforgiving towards your harmless mistakes. It was as if he was trying to ruin your future career as a potion maker.

All this unjustified hatred, discouraged you, but not to the point of giving up your aspiration, otherwise you wouldn't be standing there with the precious prize in your hands. 

Was it some kind of revenge? Definitely. 

Mentioning Severus in your ‘thank you speech’ was perfectly legitimate, he had given you more than anyone else in your life. But, even though you kept telling yourself that it was already 3 years ago and it belonged to the past, your heart was still broken, disappointed. And by his presence tonight, you were hoping to finally put an end to it all. Snape had witnessed your happiness, you had won, the revenge was completed. Time to move on. 

However, it was easier to convince yourself than to apply it. It would be wrong to claim that you hadn't worked hard to impress him. Ever since that cold war between you two, no matter how strange it may seem, you couldn't get over it. 

Sometimes, in your most private moments, you would close your eyes in the hope of being able to remember. The damp smell of the dungeons invading your nostrils, your teacher's deep voice echoing within the cold walls to your ears, praising you how well you had worked. His dark eyes focused on you, and only you. In fact, the intensity of his dark gaze could suffocate you, and yet you would not care. You desperately wanted to reclaim that relationship, as someone to whom he would give his precious time, where he would share his passions anew, a time when in his mind you existed and were important. And no matter how embarrassing it was, the idea of finding pleasure in these memories was enough to make your knickers wet.

At the time, you had convinced yourself that you were not holding any affection regarding your Professor… Another fine lie from you, obviously. It had taken a few years to come to this conclusion, to get out of the denial of this forbidden love. But now it was clear and explained a lot concerning your addiction and pain. The feeling of anticipation at the end of each lesson, the way you would pour your soul into the subject in the hope of receiving a ‘compliment’... Or simply the way you kept seeking for his attention, even after years. Nothing about this behaviour was appropriate, regardless how hard you tried to maintain the classic student-teacher relationship, on your own. 

Perhaps Snape had even realised this, explaining the sudden cessation of your individual time together. 

And even though, with hindsight, you should have felt guilty, you couldn't throw away that attachment. It was as if he had put a spell on you, that the lack of contact with him since you graduated from Hogwarts had reinforced that love. 

But today was different, it was your revenge, your mourning over this period of your life. 

The sound of the camera flashes snapped you out of your thoughts. The lights blinded your eyes for a moment, and you blinked frantically to regain your sight. Hoping that the pictures would look nice on the magazine...

"Well, congratulations Miss Y/f/n, we hope to see your Potion soon on the market amongst our merchants. I can’t wait to taste it, as you have suggested." The interview ended on this note, and the journalists dismissed themselves to make room for those who wished to thank you or congratulate you in person. 

Thus, you were greeted with a new wave of questions, of praises, mostly it was older wizards and witches who were attending the event, and thus more 'experienced' than you in Potions. Their words tasted like hypocrisy, but you accepted everything with a polite smile. You actually enjoyed the attention, although deep down it was a particular Potions Master you were looking for, so it all went over your head. After a few moments you managed to escape from the conversation that had been built around the right to use the Felix Felixis at the Ministry's work, to get yourself a glass of alcohol from the buffet. 

The taste of alcohol eased your nerves, rejoicing in the moment of calm you just gave yourself after all the attention you received. But the moment was short.

“Miss Y/f/n. How fortuitous to find you here." A voice commented sarcastically on your presence at the bar. 

There was no need to look up at the person speaking to you because you already knew who he was. His deep voice was like a melody, a music composed by the finest musicians of this world. How, Merlin, you truly missed it…

“Professor Snape- Hum, or should I say Severus now that we are colleagues?” You answered him a little too smoothly for your taste, One drink and my anger is already forgotten? I need to get my act together!

“Snape will do, we are not direct colleagues. Let's keep some formality.” He replied somewhat distantly. Ouch- Years did not seem to have quieted the hatred he had against you.

You had not yet looked up to him, postponing the moment when you would be blessed with his physical presence. But you could see from the corner of your eye that he was pouring himself a shot glass of what seemed to be a fire whiskey.

"I must say that I am surprised that the award was given to you tonight... However, it would be wrong not to congratulate you." Severus began slowly, as if preventing himself from saying too much. “But…”

“But?” Your voice cut him off, a mixture of excitement and sheer joy at the thought of receiving praise from your dear Professor. This special praise you had been longing for. 

"But-” He sighed as if you had annoyed him, “I object to the fact that my teachings have led you to produce such a grotesque Potion." 

If your eyes had been glued to your glass since the beginning of the conversation fearing to feel butterflies in your stomach at the sight of Severus, you suddenly raised them, eyes wide with surprise. And in your stomach, anger. How dare he humiliate my work like that?

However, you were at a loss for words. He hadn't changed at all, he hadn't even made the effort to wear another suit for the event. He remained the same man as when you left him. Your eyes fell on his face, he had a neutral expression, as if his hurtful words were the most well-deserved ones. His eyes were on you, but because of the dim light and his dark pupils it was impossible for you to discern any judgement within. Otherwise, his hair was still the same length, falling gently over his shoulders, soft… His hooked nose made him look sterner than ever, and the crease between his over-frowned eyebrows did not seem to have increased.

He was still the same man, the one you were so fond of, and that made it more difficult. 

But it was as if you two had evolved in two different time spaces. It had only been two years since you left Hogwarts, and it was certain that the occasional times you ran into a former classmate, they all had trouble recognising you. Obviously, you have grown in maturity through your work. You were no longer a young girl, you were a woman, a lady, with stature and respect. You were even certain that if your name wasn't mentioned at your prize-giving, Severus wouldn't have known who you are. 

"A grotesque potion?” You took back his words, insulted, “You know perfectly well all the work that lies behind it. I explained it in a briefing for the association. You must have read it, right?" You tried to hide the irritation in your voice.

"I read it, of course. And although I must admit that it was all a tremendous amount of hard work... All these efforts, for such a clownish result, is disappointing."

You couldn't help but stare at him in disbelief. You were supposed to be the one to get your revenge tonight. And here you are, in the shoes of the student you used to be in your last year, being jeered for your hard work. His words were harsh, and perhaps because they came from your professor, they hurt you badly. 

"The mere fact that I am the one who taught you everything is even more terrible." He added nonchalantly, bringing his glass to his lips. 

You remained quiet, thinking of all the things you could say to him. After all, he was no longer your instructor, Severus no longer had superiority over you. What can he do now, if I snapped at him? Expel me from Hogwarts? Perhaps, it was the moment for you to confess everything that was weighing on your heart. How his coldness and distance had made you miserable. 

"I thought it was only fair to thank you in my speech." You retorted, "But as far as I can see, you don't even want to be associated with me anymore, even as a mere tutor. Your hatred of me, I don't know where it comes from, but it's all unfair. This was supposed to be my special night. But now you've ruined it.” You hesitated before speaking again, “Like you’ve ruined my seventh year at Hogwarts."

Severus’ face remained as neutral as ever, but in his posture you felt a kind of irritation, he was caught off guard by your curt reply. Well, he must understand that I won't take his nastiness easily anymore. 

However, you took no pleasure in giving him this answer. You had imagined many scenarios about your reunion... You had hoped that he would apologise, show that he felt sorry for having been cold to you, and in the more realistic scenario simply shake your hand, congratulate you and that was it. In no way, had you expected that he would remain so hostile. 

A heavy silence fell between the two of you. His lack of response bothered you further, so you grabbed your glass and finished it straight down. "I'm going to get some air, if anyone is looking for me." Your voice was less angry, as your throat tightened dangerously, poised to burst into tears and it was slightly audible. It was a disaster.

You took your trophy with great care, the only thing that gave you comfort, and left without even bowing to Severus. You were never going to see him again in your life anyway. 

The evening of the association for Potions makers of Great Britain (or simply those with an interest for the discipline), was held in the large manor house of the current Chairman. After escaping from the hall where the main event was taking place, you looked for a way out to the garden. Your heels clicked on the marble floor, echoing in the various empty corridors. The laughter and voices of the party began to fade with each step you took. 

You were getting away from these jealous and condescending people and above all, from Severus. Good, you didn't feel like crying miserably in front of everyone. Your hopes were already destroyed, your ego wasn't going to be the next crime. After a moment, you spotted a windowed door leading to the backyard and quickly rushed to open it, taking a deep breath of air in desperation. 

Stepping out completely, you were pleasantly surprised to discover the lovely atmosphere. The garden was well tended with bushes of various flowers and the grass was green and healthy, while lanterns lightened the path leading to the depths of the garden. You were caught up in the sense of peace and quiet that it gave you, feeling much more comfortable on your own. 

It was summer, late August, school was beginning soon, work was about to restart and the merchants would soon be back in business. But it was already late, the moon was already high in the sky, almost full, and the stars shone brightly in the country sky away from London's city lights. The air was a bit fresh, but cold enough to get your mind back in order without freezing in your evening gown, which was quite revealing… But still elegant and pretty.

Venturing into the garden you finally found a bench to settle down on and think about what just happened, alone. Your eyes lifted to the magnificent starry sky before you, and its darkness made you think of Severus... The way his pupils were fixed on you, the image replayed in your mind... Over and over. You wanted to despise him for his behaviour, he had broken your heart! Not to feed your already distracted mind with lusty thoughts. Did he, at least, appreciate the sight of me in this dress? Your mind began to wander in a dangerous area, and you needed to stop right now.  

Severus had been nothing but spiteful, he hadn't changed for sure, whether it was physically or mentally. And yet... You couldn't hate him in the slightest. It all seemed wrong on his part, as if he was forcing himself. Pushing you away. 

You sighed, it was truly a disaster, you were frustrated with Severus, with yourself. Tonight was about revenge, moving on was the main mission and now you were fantasising all over again, like the flame of your love had been rekindled. 

A tear rolled down your cheek from sheer frustration, disappointment in yourself. Then one tear broke into a silent cry. Were you doomed to love a man you will never see again, who is out of reach and seems to be loathing you? Put like this, it was as if you enjoyed suffering. 

Now, you had no desire to return to the house with the other members, the possibility of running into Snape again and worsening your mental state, made you dread the prospect. Great, he had won and definitely broken your heart. 

It was decided, you were going to stay there, with your trophy in your arms and with a bit of luck you will be able to leave unnoticed by floo powder. The plan seemed reasonable. 

But fate seemed to have decided otherwise. 

You jumped when you heard someone cough to get your attention. You were so deep in thought, your eyes fixed on the sky, that you didn't hear anyone approaching you. Your little moment of peace had been ruined, and you frowned as your eyes fell on the culprit. Severus’ brooding silhouette in the darkness of the garden lived up to his Hogwarts reputation as a bat. 

You sniffed, "What are you doing here? Go away. You've already hurt me enough, there's no need to make it worse, I heard your nasty comments once already." In your pathetic state you asked Severus rather rudely to leave. 

There was a small silence before it was broken by his voice, "Are you crying?"

You couldn't make out his face, so you concluded that he couldn't see yours either. You hesitated between telling the truth or lying before answering, “Why do you care…?” Your voice was weak, in no way hiding the truth. 

“I asked you a question, Y/n” He persisted.

Hearing his voice pronounce your first name, as he used to do when you were in private conversation, made you weak in the knees, much more than you would have liked to acknowledge. 

"I, hum... Yes." You replied, sobbing quietly. Resistance will only make things worse. 

"It's a wonder you've managed to make a respectable place for yourself in the business, with such a weak mind." But unlike earlier his voice was gentler, firm, but gentle. "I've talked a bit with some of your fellow peers, people who have been around you for the past few years. Supporting you in carrying out your work… Believing in this project of yours.” He paused for another moment. 

You didn't know what he was getting at, confusion all over your face. The people you had surrounded yourself with for work were not in attendance tonight. They were mostly former students just like yourself, who had attended the advanced Potions class. If they were absent tonight it is because in their research of Potions, unlike you, they had not managed to produce a viable solution. 

In the darkness, you discerned him taking his place beside you on the bench. The warmth of his body spreading over your arm, allows you to evaluate how close you were to each other. And the answer was easy, very close. You could smell the light scent of his fragrance, a bit musky, the bare skin of your arm was grazing against the thick fabric of his frock coat, and it was a miracle that he was still able to breathe under all those layers in this warm weather. You noticed that it was the first time he was so close to you, usually he would keep his distance. His desk or the potions station had always been a well-respected barrier between the two of you. And thus, it made you a bit timid.

"Well, talking…” He spoke sarcastically to rectify himself, “I’ve exchanged letters with them. Checking on my former students, those you are working with now. Ensuring that everything was going well for you." He emphasised the last part of his sentence. 

And Severus doesn't need to amplify his words, for you to understand what he was implying secretly. 

Severus had checked on you, taking news through his letters over the past two years. 

Each of his words hit you straight in the heart, making it pound faster each time. You thanked Merlin for the obscurity, because between your tears that must have drenched your makeup and the crimson spreading over your cheeks, the sight must be pretty dramatic. 

"Why didn't you send an owl directly to me?" Your voice was still weak, but your tears had ceased. You ran your delicate hand over your cheeks to remove the remaining tears. 

You heard Severus sigh quietly at your question. It took him a while to answer, as if he was tortured to answer honestly or lying, hesitating in the same way you did a few moments ago with his question. “It’s complicated.” Severus opted to be vague, "In any case, I've got nothing but praise for your work or even your person... They like you just the same as they did back at Hogwarts."

You didn't know if your mind was playing tricks on you by wanting to romanticise everything, but in his voice there was a faint hint of nostalgia. Severus' note brought a smile to your lips, "I'm glad to hear that, I appreciate them as well. At least they're not hypocrites like everyone else tonight..." Your honesty seemed to catch what sounded like a quiet chuckle from your former Professor. 

"I must grant you, Y/n... That my words were harsh against you." Severus' voice regained its usual firm tone, "But I must confess, that such a potion, with such utility, surprises me coming from you."

That was what you guessed, his form of apology, and you accepted the way it was. "It is true that in my youth I never showed any interest in Healing Potions. What interested me the most were Poisons... But Amortentia is a poison like any other, in its own way, and research can lead us to expand our minds, can't they?” The fact that Severus knew perfectly your preferences in the area, made it easier to explain. "And then, with hindsight, I'm proud that my invention helps people, rather than killing them."

Severus nodded quietly, indicating that he fully understood the meaning of your words, as you had hoped he would. He seemed to remember all the information you had told him about yourself three years ago. That made you more than happy.  

“‘Sweet juice’, that's how you named it?” He spoke with sarcasm, gently mocking. 

It was your turn to sweetly chuckle, “No! I had originally named it 'Aquae dulcis', from the Latin ‘peaceful liquid’... But for the promotion, I was advised to change the name to a more sales-oriented one, which would fit better with my image as a lady.”

"I was wondering why the name doesn't match you… I've got my answer." He sounded somewhat relieved, "Many people have mentioned the taste." Severus sounded less reticent over your Potion, it was even if he was aware of the feedbacks that were provided in order to boost the pre-sales. 

"Ah- yes, the taste... That's what gives the potion its reputation for being arousing." You sighed a little embarrassed to talk about this with him, “Unlike many Potions, with a disgusting taste… Mine is sweet. The liquid drips slowly down the throat, the taste hooked up everyone wishing to take it. The feeling is strange to describe, and actually I can’t… Like a flame, it all burns, it all gets on, the throat-burning sensation is taboo.” You added the last part of your sentence in a whisper due to the embarrassing nature of your language. It sounded sexual, you must admit. 

Again there was silence and you wished you hadn't said what you revealed about this special taste, fearing that you had gone too far and brought your former teacher into equal discomfort. 

But he answered with an unexpected thought, “I’m curious about the experience.” You caught your breath surprised, not even realising that you had stopped for a moment out of fear,  "No potions so far have managed to ease my nerves. The Draught of Peace made me feel like I was too tired to continue working properly, so I stopped years ago. And if there's one time when I'm extremely irritable, it's at work, or when I'm grading papers… Especially when I grade the papers.” It was as if Severus was 'justifying' himself for wishing to try it. But deep down, some peace would only do him good. 

"Only a few drops then, otherwise you'll regret the tiredness you got from the Draught of Peace when you'll feel aroused during your teaching." Even yourself was surprised by the bold words you used.

Thankfully Severus took less time to answer than last time, "Of course. I'll be careful. I'll give you a personal feedback on my impressions over the next few days following the start of term."

"Send the owl directly to me this time, it would be unfortunate if anyone found out you had an 'uncomfortable issue' because of my Potion." You laughed softly, clearly more comfortable around him. You were both adults now, fellow colleagues in the Potions discipline, you have the right to tease him about the unwanted side effects.

Well, unwanted for Severus’ case. You knew that many were looking forward to taking bigger doses... Precisely to get horny. 

“I will Y/n,” He answered in a tone that seemed to be almost as amused. 

“So… You want it, you want some Sweet Juice?” You ask him, hardly believing that you were asking Severus Snape, your cold former professor, if he wanted a stash of your own (arousing) Potion. 

"If you don't mind, as it will only be sold on the mid-September market, if I understand correctly. I will, of course, pay for anything you may want to send me." He firmly says, 

You shook your head sharply, "Absolutely not, I'll send you these for free as a thank-you. And before school starts, so everything will be ready for you to face those annoying and incompetent first years." 

Severus sighs, a mixture of exasperation and relief. Exasperation because you were strict about him not paying you for anything, relief at the idea of finally having a solution to calm his tense nerves. “Stubborn as ever, I see. You may have changed physically, mentally you’re still the same.”

His little statement had the power to make your cheeks even more flushed. So he noticed that I had changed… That I’m now a lady. “Thank you, I guess?” You had no idea how to reply to that. 

"That's a compliment.” He clarified for you, “You are, indeed, now… Excuse my choice of words- a pretty woman. But besides your appearance, you are blossoming in what you always dreamed of, with a remarkable career start. It's a good thing you've kept parts of yourself intact, fame must not go to your head. But you are a reasonable lady, I know everything will be fine." It was Severus' turn to be a bit awkward with his words.

His compliment went straight to your heart and seemed to soothe all the pain you had felt over the last few years. However, in his tone, Severus sounded as if he wanted to keep his words strictly formal, as he had always done even in your deepest discussions in the past. 

"Thank you Severu- Hm, Snape.” You hated how easy it was for you to say his first name, when he had just corrected you a few moments before. However, he didn't correct you this time, letting that minor error slide. 

You indulged in the peaceful silence that settled between the two of you. The way the conversation had progressed was comparable to the ones you had in the past, if not more comfortable. Two enthusiasts discussing about their favourite subject, trying to understand each other's opinion with respect and interest. Obviously, a formal one, Severus always maintains his distance from you, as if he was always your Professor and couldn't afford to be more. Your hopes were not high on a potential romance with Severus, he was older, your former teacher, mysterious… In the end you know nothing about the man and his job was keeping him busy all year long. However, a friend would be a good start… A rather affordable hope.

In the end, when Severus opted not to act cold, it was as if there hadn't been a rupture in your relationship. The chemistry had returned back in a flash. It made you bitterly regret those three lost years... Besides, you still had no idea of the exact nature of his past harsh attitude. Maybe even tonight was just an exception and the question will never be answered.

However, if Severus ever decided, as he had suggested with his impressions, to exchange letters, perhaps with time you would find the courage to ask him. Now, it would be a bad idea and would ruin the calm atmosphere. 

"Maybe it's time to get back to the party..." Severus offered, his voice not exactly enthusiastic about joining the festivities again as well, "The others will wonder when they notice our absence."

“Right, It would be unfortunate if they started to wonder about our connection..." You laughed lightly, mocking his constant worry about being paired with you. Severus huffed, outraged. 

He stood up, and in the half-light you saw him offering his arm to you, like a gentleman. You took it without hesitation, linking yours to his.

"It's been pleasing tonight…” You spoke quietly, as Severus escorted you back into the manor.

He inhaled shakily before answering, "Yes, I agree. And hearing from you, - personally - is always preferable. I hope this will last in your future letters." 

You smiled at his words, "Obviously, Severus." There was a deep fondness evident in your voice. This time you couldn't help it, saying his first name felt right, and he didn't correct you either. 

-

The October leaves had just fallen, the soft light with its morning rays of sunshine was reaching into your office. The scenery was quiet, peaceful even. And even though you had no reason to be in your office this early, you were waiting for a special occurrence. 

Sweet Juice' had been on the market for almost a month, at various shops in Hogsmeade and Diagon Alley, and sales were more than encouraging. In fact, it was a real success. Some minor stock-outs caused even a panic among the sellers when they couldn't satisfy their demanding customers. Everyone was talking about the benefits of your Potion, and how it changed their life.

The money you received was considerable, allowing you to take a break. After two years of hard work, you deserved it. And a new solution cannot be invented that easily anyway. So your days were pretty uneventful, sometimes you were occupied with checking in with the producer, the one you had trusted enough to share the secrets of your mixture, and the sales. Otherwise, most of your days were spent taking care of yourself, enjoying life and, above all, waiting for Severus' letters. 

Currently in your hands, the last letter you received, already dated from the previous week. The other letters, which numbered five, were neatly folded and kept in the first drawer of your desk. Severus' handwriting was as elegant and delicate as ever, and you took great comfort in receiving them. The content was kept formal, but somewhat ‘casual’ or ‘friendly’. Which was a good development. 

The letters were quite brief and mostly structured the same way. Severus would write about his thoughts on Potions, then about his days at Hogwarts, and finally he would reply directly to the contents of the letter he had just received, making his comments on your daily life. 

In each of his answers, you could tell that he was making the effort to maintain the relationship despite the distance. When the first correspondence started, you were quite surprised to see his owl on your windowsill within less than a week. You were pleasantly surprised, expecting to receive a response within a relatively long delay. To be honest, you weren't expecting this much from him, because you know how occupied he is.

Your eyes lingered on the contents of the one you held in your hands. 

Dear Y/n, 

Thank you for the new batch of Potions you have sent me.

I would like to use it sparingly, addiction would be regrettable. So I take precautions, even though the peaceful effect it brings me is always efficient. Being able to sleep properly is, I must confess, a luxury I had not enjoyed until recently. And it's all thanks to you. 

I would say my days at Hogwarts are bearable. Work is draining, as always. 

I hadn’t found a moment to read the book you recommended. I will try to make up for it before my next answer. 

However, I am glad to hear that you are taking the time to have a break. Don't worry if the days can be boring, and you miss work, you need it. Do not become like me, please.

Yours faithfully, 

Severus Snape,

You had lost count, you must have read the contents of the letter ten times already. In fact, every letter you received from Severus was read more than once. It was a forbidden pleasure, but seeing his words specifically directed at you, gives you butterflies in your insides. 

But, you put your mind at rest with the fact that they were just letters and nothing more. It was less severe than when you were seeing him daily, in your student days. It was impossible for Severus to even guess the depth of your feelings towards him, when the only contact the two of you had was a piece of paper and a few words. You weren't likely to offend him or make him feel uneasy with your feelings towards him. So you were living your affection for this man to the fullest in the privacy of your own home. 

Leaning back in your desk chair, while your mind wandered over Hogwarts’ dungeon bat, you heard a tiny clatter against your window. Looking up, a sweet smile came to your lips. Your hands folded the current letter you were reading, folding it carefully and storing it away before standing up to retrieve the new one you had been expecting. 

Severus' owl was just like him, black plumage, piercing eyes. The only thing they did not have in common was their sweetness. When you opened your window, you were immediately greeted by a warm hooting.

“Hey, I hope the journey wasn't too long.” Your voice was almost too mellow for just an owl, and your hand gently stroked the top of its head as you greeted back. With a smile, you carefully untied the letter from its grasp. Once done, you put the envelope on your desk and collected grains to feed the owl. The owl pecked into the palm of your hand, now used to this small ritual. A hoot of gratitude indicated that the mission was accomplished. 

"Return safely to Hogwarts." With a last small pat, you gazed at the black owl as it flew off into the distance, back to its owner. 

Returning to your desk, you opened the envelope carefully and unfolded it. You were surprised to see that the content was longer than usual, twice as long. You didn't remember that your previous answer was that interesting to deserve such a detailed reply... Thus, you hurried to read it. 

Dear Y/n, 

I fear I haven't kept my promise.

I think I underestimated the side effects of your Potion, and this past week I've ‘suffered’ the consequences. A few drops was the dose I set myself to respect every night before going to bed, following your advice and the instructions for its use. Alas, after a particularly difficult day, I wanted to experiment with a higher dosage. I don't need to tell you in detail what it did to me, I think you've already guessed…

But I must, at least, keep our initial agreement, so if you don't object I will give you a report on this new experience. For the sake of the profession. 

The usual few drops prevented me from being able to experience in its fullest, the unique taste of the potion's effects. And I must say congratulations, never in my life have I tasted anything so sweet. The description you gave me a few months ago has stayed in my mind since, and I must say that you were right, nothing can describe how it feels. Heaven? Maybe. On that night, I reached heaven.

I was starving, I was out of control (or so I thought). I was almost unable to bear it, and then, it was time to awaken the sleeping madness in me... 

The hardest part is, I can't blame the Potion. It's almost cruel, but as you said, unlike with Amortentia, I had full power over my body, I wasn't intoxicated or bewitched. I succumbed to my impulses on my own. And… It feels good. 

This followed, of my own accord, a kind of addiction. The nights prior to this uneventful ‘accident’ I made a habit of taking these larger doses, for my own pleasure… Thus, I would conclude the entire experience to be more than enjoyable. 

In the future, I will try to find a balance to avoid abusing what is more than good. For the time being, I'm still enjoying myself. 

However, even if your potion is a miracle, it does not take away all the work I need to complete. 

And I must say, a thought came to my mind. In fact, Dumbledore was the one who suggested it to me years ago. And even if I was reluctant to the idea at first... The prospect feels less unpleasant if you are the one taking on this duty. 

Not wishing to interfere with your precious break, would you like to be my occasional assistant? 

You have the right to refuse, I wouldn't blame you. 

If the answer is positive, the first period I would wish to ask for your help would be mid-November, before the first exams. And that's for a few weeks, maybe for two, more or less. 

Naturally, you'll be welcomed at Hogwarts with all the necessities, a private chamber and a paycheck. But I'll give you the details in due time.

In any case, I will respect your decision and will look forward to receiving your answer, as I always do. 

Yours faithfully, 

Severus Snape,

PS: I trust you to keep this information confidential. 

Your eyes frantically scan the contents of the letter, there is a lot to take in. Your cheeks were flushed, your heart was pounding, the first major piece of information was that Severus was using your potion for his own sexual needs. And while you detected some reserve in his wording, he had admitted it without shame in that letter. You would never have thought Severus capable of speaking in such a way (at least, towards you), even if his words were formal, they were nonetheless heavy with meaning and bold.

You couldn't help it, your mind perfectly pictured Severus. At night, alone, under the pleasurable effect of the Potion. In your fantasy, his face was focused, his eyebrows a bit furrowed, some sweat rolling down his forehead because of the heat. A few strands of his hair would fall into his eyes, but his attention was so focused on the intense pleasure he was experiencing that he couldn't care less. Was he the type to moan? Or to remain silent? Or… Maybe the cravings were so powerful that he would bite his lip to keep quiet. 

At first, his hands would temptingly wander down his body, slowly, carefully, intoxicated by the rising pleasure. Touching himself was a pleasant torture, and as he said himself in the letter, he was unable to stop. Knowing how the potion would affect his senses, his skin must feel sensitive, leaving burning trails with every brush of his fingers over every inch of his skin, over all erogenous parts of his body, making him lose his mind. 

The way Severus’ hands would desperately clutched his already erected manhood, dripping precum with impatience, hoping to reach an orgasm, maybe even one or several. Seeking frantically for friction to satiate his craving, his hips bucked, his hand tightening to increase the contact pressure. The sight must be sumptuous. 

You wondered, for a moment, about the thoughts Severus might have to stimulate his mind. Was the Potion working enough to turn him on? Or was he seeking greater satisfaction with some dirty images? This left you with a real question. And you realised that even after all this time, you knew many things about him, but not at all in such an intimate setting. Which made sense, since most of the time you were his student... The first glimpse you had of this point was the letter.   

And, you're the only one who knows his nightly routine. He trusted you, beyond the fact that you were the creator of the Potion who helped him satisfy his lusts. The mere idea to be in the confidence of this secret, made your knickers wet. 

And even though it was already a lot to process, this was not the only exciting news. Severus asked you, himself, to be his assistant. He even suggested it, because the idea of working with you sounded appealing. You. Of all people, he thought about you. 

You didn't question it, it was decided the moment the information reached your brain. You were going to accept. And how could you turn down the offer when the mysterious and reserved Severus Snape admitted on his own, that he was eagerly expecting your letters…

After years of longing to feel that special feeling again, in one letter Severus had given you a lot. 

-

Returning to Hogwarts was a hope you never thought imaginable. However, a week ago you arrived with a suitcase packed, ready to work. The stone corridors, the moving stairs and even the staff had remained the same. The only change was that instead of sitting at your house table for dinner, you were now placed between Flitwick and Snape. And of course, that most of your time was spent in the dark, damp dungeons of the School brewing Potions, or grading papers. 

Unlike what many might think, working alongside Severus was much more manageable than they might have thought. In any case, with you, he trusted your work enough not to question it. In fact, when you arrived, you were quite worried when you saw the dark circles under his eyes, which were more prominent than you used to remember. And when you became his assistant, you understood why. Severus was a perfectionist, and his teaching methods were all tailored to ensure the success of his students. So your tasks were simple, like preparing the exams, the basics for the Potions that were going to be taught, correcting papers, arranging the ingredients... And while you were just assisting him, within a few days he had managed to find more rest. Something that made you feel better.

Apart from that, the working conditions were quiet and calm. Severus was conversing with you during the simplest of tasks, he didn't seem as tight as usual (in private, at least), what you guessed were the effects of your Potion. At times, it was simply work performed in a comfortable silence. But between you, there was no longer any sign of discomfort or coldness. It was as if it had never happened, actually. 

Well, until today. 

"I wonder..." Severus began his sentence thoughtfully, his eyes focused on the cauldron in front of him, his hands busy chopping up ingredients, "How I used to find time to work and talk to you, back then."

You had a similar task, but unlike him you looked up in surprise. Severus rarely mentioned the past between you, or even the letters you had exchanged the past month. "I don't know either... That's why you stopped in my seventh grade, right?"

You didn't particularly want to mention the subject that had become nearly forbidden with time, namely your cold war. But you felt that under the current circumstances, you were old and mature enough to take it on yourself. Even though you might never get any solid answers about his past behaviour. 

“Y/n, we both know that’s not the truth.” 

Your eyes were still fixed on him, and you didn't know if Severus was too focused on his Potion to realise the implication of his words, or if he really wanted to discuss the issue once and for all. But you weren't going to miss your chance, trying to summon all your courage. "Oh- Really? Those are the excuses you gave me, would you like to tell me the truth then?" You answered casually, trying to play it cool despite your racing heart. Years of seeking the answer, it was as if what haunted you most was finally going to be removed. 

However, the answer did not come as easily as the conversation had started, Severus stopped in his tracks and raised his head to you. His expression was hesitant, or perplexed, you didn't really know. "It was best for us to stop there, that's the real reason." He replies vaguely, his eyes fixed on your face where you stand across the Potion station. 

You frowned, you were an adult now, you could handle and accept the truth. Severus, on the other hand, was being vague, as if putting a finger on what had happened was forbidden. "Are you implying that in our professional discussions, we were going down the wrong path?" You didn't want to tempt him, but getting the truth out of Severus' mouth was more complicated than you expected. 

"Our discussions were nothing professional." He sounded a bit irritated with himself, indeed, the subject was sensitive on both sides. He put a lid on his Potion and dried his hands with a cloth, "We're done for the day, you can leave me." He waved you off, putting an end to the conversation. 

But you stayed in your place, it was as if your feet were frozen to the ground, you couldn't leave. "You are the one who started the conversation. Don't be angry with me." Your voice was quite composed, you weren't afraid to face him. And just like at the event, he seemed stunned by your tone of voice. 

You put the tools down and placed a lid on the Potion in the same way he had just done. "You cannot cut off the discussion and asked me to leave, Severus. You don't know how I've suffered my entire last year because of this, because of you. You can at least look me in the eye and give me a proper answer.” You sighed, as he tried to keep his eyes from looking at you. Perhaps because of guilt. 

"Severus, we can sort this out, and go back to the way things were. But I need an answer, to move on. To be free of this guilt. Did I do something wrong? Was I bothering you so much? Tell me…" You hated how your voice was almost begging. But with every word you said, you could feel it, it was like he was re-building that distance between you. You didn't want to lose him, not that quickly. 

"Severus... Please." You finally decided to move, taking a step towards him, the atmosphere in the classroom had totally changed. But even if the tension was heavy, you weren't going to abandon him, not this time. He did not move as you approached him, however, his face was tense. You hadn't seen him this cold in a while. 

"I can't answer you. Things wouldn't be the same after that.” His voice was harsh, but not offensive. He sounded frustrated with himself, “But… If you want an answer, I must admit I'm not sufficiently secure to reveal my past intentions." 

His words were odd, leaving you confused. The enigma that was Severus Snape was impossible to understand no matter how much time you were spending by his side. Can he give me an answer or not?

Several times your mouth opened in an attempt to answer, but nothing came to your mind. The problem seemed to be stuck. It left you upset. "I... I want an answer." Your words were both hesitant and confident, the statement was, frankly, a bit silly. 

This seemed to amuse Severus, who laughed silently in mockery, warming the atmosphere. “Why are you so…” He paused for a moment as if hesitating, then at last he gave in, "Endearing?” 

His words slammed into your heart, leaving you baffled. But you didn't have time to answer, Severus resumed speaking just as soon, "But, if I can manage to calm myself, maybe I'll be able to talk to you. Does that please you, Y/n?"

You hesitated, understanding what Severus was implying behind those words, 'relaxing' meant taking a few drops of Sweet Juice. And as much as you wanted to keep a respectful image of Severus, the last words written  in his letter about its use stayed in the back of your mind. But, how can I refuse?

"Fine.” You agreed, nodding slowly.

Severus seemed somewhat reassured by your agreement, the walls he was starting to build around himself to push you away, were falling down again. It was his turn to approach you, offering his arm. A habit he'd adopted with every walk you shared at Hogwarts. You took his arm, the gesture had become natural, Severus added, "Follow me."

With that, you walked after him. Severus led you, in the utmost silence. Your heart was pounding, you didn't know exactly what to expect. The path he was taking, staying in the dungeons of the school, made you realise that he was inviting you into his personal quarters, which did not help your state of mind. Every step you made, was a step towards the possible truth. 

Your recent exchange had been unclear, Severus was just as confused by his attitude as you were, you could tell with the look on his face. Torture between two separate decisions: to hate you back or accept what was happening between you two. 

Still in silence, Severus finally arrived, unlocked the door to his quarters and let you in first. It was the first time you had entered, and the surroundings seemed oddly familiar. Everything reflected Severus, with its dark tones and simple, yet elegant furnishings. Your eyes rest on the many books, all meticulously arranged, and then, a little farther away, on the bed. It was impossible to miss the three vials filled with the purple liquid that you had conceived yourself, one of them was nearly empty. The sight of Sweet Juice beside his bed only made your heart flutter, as if it was confirmation that everything he had described to you was, indeed, true.  

"Well, sit on the sofa. I'm coming up with what's needed." Severus breaks the silence as he removes his cloak, stopping your dirty thoughts dead in their tracks.

"Yes, of course." You nodded, quite flustered, and you did what you were asked as you sat down on the couch, next to the fireplace and the bookcases. Your eyes followed Severus' actions as he made his way to his bed, lighting the fireplace with his wand as he passed. 

He came back with a new bottle of Sweet Juice in his hands, and sat without discomfort at your side. "Do you use it daily as well?" He asked you, an undeniable curiosity in his voice. 

"Um... No, I just tested it on myself a while ago before I submitted the notice. I have no use for it." You looked at him blankly, you didn't know what Severus was trying to find out with his question, "So, it was only for professional purposes." You added rather quickly, in case he wondered if you too were finding sexual satisfaction through its use. 

"Well, this will be the occasion to taste it again then." His hands opened the bottle carefully, and with some skill showing how familiar he was with its use. 

You looked at him, confused by his words, "I don't intend to take it, you said you were the one who needed it to speak honestly." 

"I think it's wiser for you to take it, to learn the truth. I don't want you to get mad at me." He replied with his calm voice, "Don't you trust me?" He raised an eyebrow with his usual expertise in the motion. 

Of course you trusted him, the question didn't have to be asked. And right now, with all the tension in your body from the pressure of the whole situation, you had to agree. He was right, it was wiser if the both of you were in the same state to discuss. "Fine, but only a few drops..."

Severus nodded, "A few drops will be more than enough."

You reached for the vial, but Severus placed his hand on your chin before you could get your hands on it, and directed your face in his direction. “Open your mouth, please Y/n.” 

His eyes were fixed on you, you felt like melting under his gaze, so intense was it. You couldn't ignore the intimate intensity of the situation, your cheeks were starting to burn. The scenario was far more pleasant than anything you could have imagined in your dirtiest dreams. 

Without even adding anything, you parted your lips for him. Severus seemed satisfied with your willingness, and put the eyedropper to let a few drops fall from it. A promise he kept. And even though it was only a few drops, the taste burned in your throat, taking effect as soon as it was swallowed. It was addictive, sweet… Divine. A tickling sensation settled in your body, you felt perfectly fine, as if your body had never felt any tension. 

Severus watched your every reaction, his hand still on your chin, you felt like your skin was burning under his fingers, "Well. You seem to be reacting well."

He withdrew his hand and this gesture left you with a feeling of need. Your eyes never left him for a second as you watched him perform the same operation with himself. His previously tense face, softened in an instant. To have Severus so effortlessly relaxed was quite an exclusive sight. He trusted you enough to be so vulnerable without shame, in front of you. It made you smile.

"Y/n, I've been intending to talk to you about this for a while, it weighs on me just as much. I'm sorry for the way I acted," Severus began quietly. 

Hearing him apologise was strange, he was such a proud man. It made you happy, because while he was under the effect of the potion, he was still aware of what he was doing or saying. He was not controlled by the Potion, in front of you there was a sincere and apologetic Severus. One of the many facets you were starting to find out about this very mysterious man. 

"I apologise as well, I wasn't always straightforward." You matched his gentle tone, 

Severus shook his head, "You were not the problem, I handled the situation very poorly. It's all my fault, I hurt you." He put his hand over his face, ashamed, "When, in fact, that's all I wanted to avoid... It haunted me, until I saw you again a few months ago. I wanted redemption, to make sure you were fine without me... But, I’m selfish as I am taking a role in your life again,” He sighed hopelessly, “There's still this guilt in me.”

Hearing Severus speak with such regret, made your heart grow fonder for the man, you couldn't fault him. He had suffered the same pain from his choices, he acted in order not to lose his teaching position, in order to not deprive you of a possible 'happy' life. And even if the Potion worked miracles, guilt and pain couldn't be erased. You wanted to reassure him, to remove this pain from him, to leave it in the past. "Severus, I only wish to understand what I did wrong..." You whispered, your eyes focused on the buttons that fastened his cutaway coat.

The more minutes passed, the more the Potion worked through your body. The sensation was odd, like a kind of ache, but it was unmistakably delightful. This only served to reinforce your self-consciousness about the situation, your body tickled everywhere, straining, trembling, longing to be close to him. 

"You have done nothing wrong... As the days went by, my regard for you changed. Your radiant smile, the way your eyes brighten at my every word, the way your perfume intoxicates me when it stays in the classroom, your delicate hands working with agility... All of this, I should never have noticed, and yet, I couldn't help but feel captivated. Charmed because of what you were, and still are, in fact." 

He slowly pulled his hand away from his face. But, you didn't want to leave him in his demise, so you laid your hand on his as he lowered it, encouraging him to continue. "I wasn't blind, I knew the feeling you held for me. I believed it was for the benefit of the both of us. But after rejecting you, I was terribly missing you. Inside me, it built up a terrible guilt…” He paused for a moment before concluding, “And without realising it, I was feeling the same way about you."

Severus gently takes your hand in his, as if you were a delicate flower, or would disappear at any moment. His gaze is now focussed on both your joined hands, "Since, I haven't stopped thinking about you, night and day. Seeing you again... Was a breath of hope, I thought impossible. And even though you sounded different, like you were angry with me, I couldn't help but appreciate you. I soon realised that despite all my efforts, pushing you away a second time was beyond me... Beyond my strength."

He intertwined his fingers with yours, "You can hate me, yell at me. I hurt you and yet, selfishly you're here with me, instead of enjoying what life has to give you. I’m older, grim, and stern. I don't deserve you."

As he confessed, what you were focused on, was the heavy pounding of your heart ringing in your ears. The intensity of his emotions was heartbreaking, as you listened to him. 

Your body's reaction to his was overwhelming, everything seemed like a raging fire that neither of you wanted to quench. The sensation of his own skin against yours only made it burn harder, leaving you with an insatiable urge of need and want. Your body knew what it wanted, the heat started to build up in the lower part of your stomach.

"I- Severus… I'm sorry that I was angry with you, when you were trying to do the right thing. I had no idea how you might be feeling on your own. But today, everything has changed, I’m not your student anymore.” You spoke with all the determination you could muster to prove him wrong, “And I don't care what life has to offer, if you are older. I know what I want. And it’s you.” 

“It's only been a few weeks since I've been back with you, and I've never felt so happy. I feel alive.” Your cheeks flushed hot at your blunt words, “And to be honest, the club, the award, Sweet Juice, I did it all, to get your attention. I wanted to be special to you again."

"Come," Severus uttered in a deep, rumbling voice. His hand, the one that was already holding you, pulled you towards him, and his other hand guided your hips as he gently settled you on his lap, straddling him. The way your body easily accepted his request, was a reflection of how much you wanted to be with him, to be close to him. 

"I wanted to move on, to forget you, but it was impossible. But nowadays, as I am closer to you..." Your eyes fell on his face, Severus seemed to be listening to you with such intensity, that coupled with this sudden intimacy caused you to speak in a shaky breath, "I burn and my body is feeling new things, and the intensity is only growing, nearly out of control. I can't think anymore, you're always on my mind…- I just want to be close to you, like I've always hoped." Your voice died down near the end, admitting your deepest thoughts. You were nervous, the aching sensation started to get on your nerves, overflowing with desire for the man in front of you.

His hands gripped your clothes, as if to remind you that he was indeed there, by your side. You were taken aback by the violent wave of emotions that flashed through his eyes. Severus had said nothing after your own confession, but there was no need for him to speak in order for you to understand. His eyes were speaking for him. Need, lust, desperation, want, longing- And most strikingly, love. His hands clasped your face, leaving you no choice but to lock your eyes with his. You couldn't escape the impact of his emotions, of the intense waves crashing over you nearly suffocating you. And the truth is, you had no desire to avoid him. 

It was as if time had stopped, his beautiful face, his lovely hands, the wildness in his eyes, and the way he made you feel was beyond description. 

"I love you," He exhaled as his thumb stroked your cheek. It felt like a weight was being lifted from his chest, 

Your fingers found his shoulders, pressing into the soft fabric of his coat, “I love you as well,” You answered, the same weight disappearing from your heart. 

The affirmation of your feelings towards him seemed to ignite something new in Severus. His thumb went down to your lips, running it over them, "You know, I thought about you as my assistant not only because you're the smartest, most diligent and serious person I know to handle the task perfectly," He spoke in a low grumble that made your whole body quiver, "But also because every night as I took a stronger dose of that delicious elixir you conceived, I always find myself thinking about you. I found satisfaction only when I thought of you.” 

He sighs, "I must admit that if you're here, it's also because I couldn't bear to keep all this to myself, I had to confess. I wanted to see you again, terribly."

“I’m here Severus, I’m here for you and only you.” You replied hurriedly in order to reassure him.

He took a deep breath, your words seemed to have reached his heart, "Maybe it's a bit premature, but I should ask you."

It sent a ripple of delight through your entire body, increasing the desperation you had to be against him, “What do you want to ask me, Severus?”

Your question, perhaps somewhat naive given the situation, brought a smile to his lips, “Would you like to make love with me?” The question was phrased extremely graciously, contrasting dramatically with the ferocity of his eyes. 

Your body shivered under his powerful stare. Your reply was obvious, and yet in the warmth of his body, in the puddle of intensity that Severus was bathing you in, you were at a loss for words. He looked at you like a hunter ready to chase down his prey, your consent was all he needed for him to pounce on you. It should have worried you, but behind his raging stare were years of self-restraint and pain. You felt more than special, being loved by such a cold and distant man made you feel like you were the only one in this wide world, the one and only for him. 

You couldn't make him wait any longer, it was torture for him as much as it was for you. So you nodded, silently at first, then you found the courage to finally voice your need, "Yes, Severus, I do."

He smiled again, it was a delightful sight to see Severus smiling, and you took a moment to observe him as if to commit the image to memory. It was so infrequent, that you were pleased to know that you were the only one to be blessed by it. He was perfect, you could do nothing but kiss him. Passionately, freely, desperately. There was nothing anymore to stop you from doing it. You tasted him, setting all your senses on fire. You licked the inside of his mouth, as his tongue linked with yours in an intoxicating dance that only the both of you seemed to know. The scent and taste of him captured all your senses, and you couldn't stop humming with delight as it resonated through your chest from the pleasure of kissing him. 

In that first kiss, you feel it all. 

Both of his hands clasped your face tightly to keep you close to him as your hands trailed through his long hair, down to his neck. The warmth that radiated from him made your flesh flush, your heart pounding so hard in your chest that even Severus should be able to feel it. He tasted like heaven. 

He skillfully guides you, allowing you to get lost in his adoration. One hand gently grasped your throat, while his other hand travelled from your cheek over your neck, down to your waist where his arm snaked around to press your body against his in a secure embrace. 

Severus didn't break the kiss, as he stood up, carrying you in his arms. Your eyes were closed, allowing you to get completely absorbed in the feverish kiss, but you knew he was heading for his bed. The next moment, your body found its place against the soft fabric of his sheets, enveloping you once again in his wonderful manly scent. Wrecking you, in the most pleasing ways possible. 

You moaned into his mouth as your fingers tugged his hair a bit tighter, Severus growled at your action, searing your whole being from you body to your soul. You were desperate for more, to see him, to touch him, to feel him. Your clothes were simply a suffocating barrier that separated you from Severus. Your irritation didn't seem to escape Severus as he broke off the feverish kiss you two were sharing. 

You finally opened your eyes, to be greeted by a dishevelled and flushed Severus. You were both out of breath, panting. However, he was quick to lay another kiss on the exposed skin of your throat. Sweetly, lovingly, small kisses from the tip of his lips teasing you, all dripping with desire.

"Love, you're perfect," He hummed against your neck as he gently nuzzled his nose against it to inhale your fragrance. You were like in heaven, your blood was running through your veins, your stomach transformed into butterflies out of worship for him. 

His hands ran along your body, before undoing the button on your skirt. Your thighs were released quickly from the constraint that your clothes provided you as he dropped the first piece of fabric on the floor. Your hands hesitantly passed over his upper body, your fingers delicately unfasten the buttons of his coat. Once done, your hands grabbed the lapels of his coat to let it fall over his shoulders, quickly meeting your skirt on the floor. 

Severus certainly was consumed by an insatiable urge, never getting enough of you. His lips never leave you, trailing against your jaw, nibbling your earlobe. His warm breath left your sensitive skin tingling with delight. Your hands were slightly trembling as you began to reach for his shirt, while his hands reached for the rest of your clothes with utmost care. 

The clothes that had been a painful barrier, began to strip from your bodies, slowly, teasingly. Falling one by one on the floor. Severus leaned on his arm as he took a few steps back, your breath caught with worry and missing his warmth. His eyes roamed over your body, in an intimidating powerful manner. You had never felt so vulnerable and exposed, only covered by your underwear, his intense gaze left a heavy feeling on everything you could offer him. 

However, you didn't have time to think for long when his lips captured yours. “Perfect,” He whispered as his eyes met yours. With burning cheeks, you averted your eyes. You could not hold his gaze, so much the intensity of his emotions caught your heart. His pupils were dilated, too wild, too fiery. 

Your reaction left Severus laughing in a deep breath, "You really are more lovely than anything I could have imagined. My mind didn’t do you justice, love.” The gentle title he gave you made your heart beat faster, and as your hands were pressed against his chest you sensed the intense pounding of his as well. Both your hearts were beating in perfect tune. 

Your hands began to undo the upper part of his shirt, releasing his neck from his stiff attire. You were still shaking, but proceeded nonetheless. There was only a layer left before you could see him as vulnerable. Severus waited, letting you take all the time you needed to finish. And the next thing you knew, you were pulling his shirt off his shoulders in the same way you'd done before. 

You marvelled at the sight in front of you, your breath caught in your throat at the sheer beauty of Severus, his broad shoulders, his pale pearly skin, his strong arms were now at your total disposal. You gave yourself a moment to appreciate the one you've craved for, over the years.

"Perfect," You whispered with the same adoration he had for you, your fingers spread over his bare skin, temptingly. You were amazed at the softness of his body despite his strength, he, who held himself so rigidly in his daily life. 

"Not as much as you, love," Severus left a warm kiss on your cleavage and his hands found the clasp of your bra as your hands found down his trousers. He removed the rest of his clothes at the same time as you.

Your skin was flushed, your breaths quick and uneven with anticipation. It's a good thing you had taken a few drops of Sweet Juice, otherwise you would have been a nervous wreck. This allowed you to handle the whole experience with confidence, coupled with your trust in Severus, it was pure bliss. And this must have been the case for Severus, because behind his expert strokes, he seemed a bit unsure with himself. 

Your skin burned under his every touch, letting the fire spread over your skin down to your trembling, hot, insides. You were wet, swollen and soft. Severus sat on his knees, between your legs. The action left your body screaming with desperation, arching with anticipation for more, for him. Until now, you had not dared to lower your eyes to the level of his girth, but now it was time to get acquainted with what was about to enter you. Your breath was taken away at the sight of his long, veiny and erect manhood. That’s going inside of me?

"Love, I'll be gentle with you," Severus sensed your apprehension immediately, his hands gently resting on your knees to spread your legs leaving your body on high alert. He leaned forward, and placed a first kiss on your jaw, then another one on your breast, before his mouth wrapped around your already hard nipples to sweetly suck on it. 

You didn't know if you'd taken a sufficiently large dose of the Potion for it to play on your sexual sensibilities, but you gasped. The feeling of his soft lips over your most forbidden body parts was exhilarating, your insides tensed. Your breasts were sensitive, responsive to every lick he gave. You were blown away by the way your body fit to him, catching his slightest touch. And as if he wasn't satisfied enough with himself, he moved his hand up from your hip, running teasingly along your skin to find your nipple, toying with it, pinching it. You couldn't help but moan, the sensation strains you again, leaving you longing for more. Your mind failed to follow, a wave of pleasure overtaking your whole body. Everything felt heightened, the sound of Severus' sharp breath, his tongue, his touch, his scent. Even the cotton of his sheets was seemingly intense. 

Severus let out a long, deep growl from the back of his throat, and it made your whole body shudder. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, ready to welcome him. He understood the sign, but continued to whisper his words of adoration, of love for you. How he had dreamed of this for years, that he didn't want to be apart from you anymore. His words that met the hollow of your ear, made you feel in a whirlwind of emotions, cherished and safe. You held on to him, your arms reaching around his shoulders. 

He wanted to slowly devour you, until your rational thoughts were consumed by pleasure.  

“Sev,” You breathed out a long, deep moan as his finger slid inside you. You were soaking wet at this point, drenched for him. His finger stroked your insides, his thumb brushed against your sensitive bundle of nerves while his lips lingered on your throat, placing numerous small kisses. 

“You are perfect,” He hummed out, right by your ear, “Perfect for me,” His nose dragged along your skin, in the hope of finding a new spot to kiss. He pressed another finger into you. Your legs tightened while your insides softened further. The stretching of his fingers was astounding. “You are the only one for me, I love you,” His words shattered everything, all the common sense you had in you. You wanted him to ruin you with his love. In a manner as violent as the emotions you had for each other, giving him everything, everything you ever had. 

Removing his fingers, your eyes fell on his hand as it darted back and forth between his legs. You gasped as his delicate hand folded around the girth of his manhood. "Love, I'm here. It's going to be fine. Tell me if you don't feel well, I'll stop," he hummed softly as he laid back against you, pressing his body over yours. You nodded, and his lips found yours anew. 

You felt his body lowering, and the next instant, he was sinking inside you. You hissed from the pleasure that suddenly caught hold of you. There was no discomfort, no pain, your body adapted, moulded itself to him. Your body was being taken by Severus, and everything at that moment, finally being one with him, felt right. 

“Look at me,” He ordered you gently, holding himself up with one arm, ready to move. When your eyes met his, you were immersed in the depth of his love. You felt calm, in heaven, as you were shaped to accommodate him. He was the only one in this world, especially when he was looking at you with such worship. 

“Good,” He smiled in satisfaction when you complied. Your eyes were hypnotised by all the love he bore you. He began to draw out, slowly. And as with your skin, your insides were just as sensitive causing electricity to run through your body, sending a shiver down your spine. His gaze intensified as he began to move a bit faster, his movements always precise and well controlled, making it more intense. 

Catching his breath, Severus kept praising you, “You, are, magnifi-cent,” He growled in a low tone, between thrust as you moaned out his name in a barely comprehensible manner. You find satisfaction in being filled and stroked, to be loved in such a carnal manner, it was intense, overwhelmingly intense. He was everywhere, he was everything to you. 

“Sev-, Severus, I love you!” Your voice was slurred, your mind was unable to form a coherent thought, and yet you felt the urgent need to confess your love all over again. At your words, he quickened his pace and buried himself inside you, over and over.

You were consumed by him, by his love, by your love for him. You were his, and he was yours. Entirely, irrevocably, ineluctably. There was no other way. Severus was breaking everything you owned, and it felt right. With every push, with every pull, with his loving hands, with his loving words, with his hungry breath, he was breaking you.

“Please,” You pleaded for him, a moan escaping through your sore lips. His movements became powerful, irregular, hasty. As if to satisfy you as much as possible, even if he was exceeding all your wishes, pushing your mind to the edge of depravity with each of his thrusts. 

“Love,” He growled in a feverish manner, as if he had been entrusted with the most valuable mission possible, to please you. He shoved in so deeply that your eyes rolled back and watered from the sensation of being nothing but completely filled. You back arched in pleasure, welcoming the emotion in its fullest. 

“Awh-” You gasped as he started to pace harder, faster. Your legs were quivering from the pleasure, your lungs burned from your moans. He held onto you tighter, in order to be able to dig into you with more vigour. Over and over. It was relentless. His need for you became beyond desperate and engulfed him into the same depravity. 

“I love-, you,” He moaned darkly under his gruff breath, “I can’t-” He growled this time, in a low rumbling. His movements became irregular, erratic. 

You kissed his neck, inhaling his sweaty scent and the taste of his skin stirred in your mouth. “Me too-” You whispered, in a rather dark tone, meeting his love and distress at the same time. 

“Y/n-!” He growled, and after a split second, you felt him growing within you, as his whole body tightened, hardened. His cock shifted faster inside you, pounding against your inner walls. He buries his face in the crook of your neck and moans his release before his movements come to a slow halt. 

Ripples of heat mingled with the throbbing of muscles and the warmth of the skin inside you. You held him close and marvelled at the sensation of your orgasm, of being filled and being enough for him to reach such a fierce release. To be enough for him to love you, to be enough for him to be so intimate with you. 

You caught your breath, you were in a state of pure bliss. The last waves of pleasure take over your body, making the pleasure last longer. Severus withdrew from you, leaving you with a longing that he satisfied by taking you in his arms enjoying your post-orgasm state.

He placed a kiss on your sweaty forehead as he affectionately snuggled you pressing your body against his. After the intense encounter you'd just experienced he still longed to feel your burning skin against his. “I love you,” He said it again, as if he needed to prove it to you, but you knew by now that his affection towards you was wrenching. 

"I love you more," you lay your head against his chest, letting the sound of his heart lull you to sleep as it only started to calm. His soft laughter vibrated through his rib cage, 

"I doubt it, love, but this is not the time to talk about it. Tomorrow is another day, a day when I can finally enjoy you without any rules or barriers," Severus sounded enthusiastic, he pulled the blanket over both of your naked bodies and took his wand to stop all sources of fire from making any light. 

His uncharacteristic lively tone brings a peaceful smile to your lips, you are now the one that makes Severus eager to wake up in the morning, to carry on with his life. He was your source of happiness, and you were his. 

After years of trying to understand everything between the two of you, you were now in his arms. 

Peaceful. 

Loved.

[hanihazeljade]

Three Videos

The aftermath of letting Tim and Tam drink without any adult supervision.

(CW: swearing)

Part 6 of Three Weeks

Prev - Three Settings

Next - Three Pasts

Tim and Tam had a nice Saturday. 

The day that was started by nothing but bullshit from the Wayne family and was remedied by Tamara’s good redirection using alcohol is amazing. They may or may not have black outs around 9 in the evening and he doesn’t want to remember the shit Tam put him through.

But fate is a bitch and he wakes up in Tam’s living room, on her soft grey carpet and is now trending throughout the social media of Gotham. Is he aware of anything that could possibly result in the entirety of Upper Gotham to suddenly bombarded him with proposals of courtship? No. Is he enthralled by this sudden development? No. Did he want the ground to suddenly open up and swallow him and spew him out in Hokkaido? Yes! 

This sudden development was actually not a bad thing as he looked at Twitter and saw many screen-recorded shit he and Tam did. And lo and behold, it was from Instagram Live, not just anyone’s  Instagram Live but it was Tim’s Instagram Live. 

Sure, Tim’s Instagram is far less known than the public accounts of Richie Wayne and Brucie Wayne, with almost all of the population of Gotham and some of the neighbouring cities, but he has some good amount of followers to be famous but not a big time influencer. However, as any model that has been featured on some top magazines in Japan, he has enough influence to navigate the fashion industry, just like the bear jacket and the wedge high heels that he loves to wear everyday in Japan.

But then again, it was mostly just in Japan, Asia is already pushing it. So, he doesn’t really kind off get it how did the Americans found his Instagram Account, after all his username is not even close to Timothy Drake, it was akatori, directly translated to Red Bird and if the Gothamite actually have some brain cells to think, it was a direct hint that he was once the Red Bird, Red Robin, to be exact. 

But Timothy is not an idiot. Red Bird can have a lot of meaning. Like the tattoo that he got when he settled in Hokkaido, or it could be the emblem of once prestigious Drakes. Red Bird has a lot of meaning in Tim’s life and all of them hurt to different degrees.

Now, back to the trending page of Twitter. All of the clips of the live show were just him singing different songs. He doesn’t remember singing and he also doesn’t remember putting on a live show, heck he doesn’t even remember anything after the second bottle of tequila was down. 

He looked at the tags and he was trending under the tag of #tim_drake_live. He clicked on the first video that the tag has and it was him singing so passionately of Walls Could Talk by Halsey and Tam was beside him singing the oh-oh-oh part and it was hilarious. It was like he knew so many things that he could not say to the public and he was now suffering from it. Timothy chuckled at his thought but then halted as it was true to his life.

“Imagine the amount of tea this man could spill.”

“A nepo baby that decides to leave everything for peace? Spill the tea.”

He clicked another video and it was him singing to Tate McRae’s “you broke me first”. It was truly a song that can describe his emotions but he doesn’t expect himself to call out Richard’s name after the line of ‘Now suddenly you're asking for it back Could you tell me, where'd you get the nerve?’ Like where in the bloody soup of Kardashian’s list of lawsuits he got the confidence to call out Richie Wayne so boldly. Or could it be that he was just drunk?

“Wonder what did the bimbo Richie do to him?”

“THAT IS WHAT WE LOVE. NAME DROPPING”

“Imagine having the power to call Richard Wayne out for all of his bullshit, the power Tim Drake has is immaculate”

“#RichieWaynePartyisOver”

He clicked to several more videos of him just singing to different more songs but the one that captured his focus was the rendition of CARYS “Princesses Don’t Cry” and but his confident drunk ass change the princess to a Drake and he can see the sliver of tears sliding to his face and he knows why because he can still feel the light ache in his heart.

He looked at the comments and he was shocked to see people sympathising with him. He is not used to this, he was the one that always sympathises and not the other way around. And somehow, the sympathising of thousands of faceless people behind the screen made him feel so… valid. That he was heard and people actually listened to him and believed him. Something inside of him felt touched and was healed.

“The fact that he change the princess to drake is a power move, ngl”

“Didn’t the media say that he didn’t cry during his parent’s funeral, was it the drake’s fault or the wayne’s?”

“He also move away from gotham for seven years and he come back for his sister’s wedding, watta brother”

“Is it just me or did he cry during the bridge? I swear i saw tears”

“The voice kind off shakes throughout the whole song, unlike the prev songs”

“Could it be that the whole song applied throughout his life? He was a part of upper gotham after all”

He didn’t expect that other people that he doesn’t know, actually sides with him. He was believed for once and for all. He was not judged as a crazed lunatic that was looking for attention, that he was grieving or just lost in his emotions. He didn't need to explain his reasons, but then he was understood. 

He sighed and put his phone down and took a deep breath. He got up from the carpet and he freshened himself before he went to Tam that was dead asleep on her couch and somehow didn’t wake up with all the shit he played on his phone.

“Tam! Wake up!” Tim yelled at the girl but Tam just groaned and mumbled, “go fuck yourself.” and Tim just chuckled and let the young lady be. He went to the kitchen and gathered anything that he could make him a breakfast and maybe Tam if he felt like it.

He made himself a guacamole sandwich and made Tam one, because he doesn’t want to get hit and as he was eating, he decided to go live one more time to apologise to his behaviour the night prior. He clicked the live button and he smiled at the camera.

“Hey everyone. I am pretty sure that everyone that is here, saw what happened last night.” He awkwardly chuckled by himself. “I am pretty much black-out drunk and can’t remember what happened last night and if there are no clips circling throughout the internet, I would never know what I did.” 

“I am apologising for such display of behaviour and hopefully wouldn’t do it again in the future. But we will never know, maybe I got betrayed and chastised again and need to drink so much again.” He joked and the comments are egging him on making more drunk live karaoke nights, as it made them realise that they are not the only ones that are sad during holidays.

“‘Don’t apologise, we like the chaotic tim drake’ wah? Really? Was I really that entertaining?” Tim chuckled at the comment before addressing something more, “And please call me Timothy, Tim is for little me, Timothy sounds more elegant.”

““Who bets that Timothy preferred to call himself Tim before he left?’ Pretty sharp, huh? But no, my parents always called me Timothy with so much affection and I couldn’t listen to people calling me Timothy, as it brings me grief but now, I like it.”

““Didn’t your parents leave you by yourself?” Yes, that is true. But it was actually a series of trial and error. My parents brought me to a few of their digs and we found out the hard way that I should not be in dig sites.” Timothy chuckled as he remembered that Tim was brought in one of the dig sites at Peru and was found tampering with a very important relic and his parents just hired a nanny until Tim was ten. And Mrs. Mac became his guardian during those days until Janet died.

“ “And you just don't think that you are neglected?” Oh no. I may be a neglected child in front of the outside eyes but my parents always call me everyday if the service can reach them and once a week if the service can’t. We also do family bonding everytime they come home, we go golfing, rock climbing, fishing with dad, baking with mum and learning ancient texts with both of them.” Tim commented, hoping that it will finally remove any bad cloud in his parent’s reputation.

“My dad and mum may not be ideal parents for anyone but for me, I love my independence of cooking what I eat, cleaning my own room, doing my homework on my own and establishing some routine and schedule with no interference from my parents is actually really cool. My mum actually tried to bring up the idea of going with them one more time to a dig site so that she can watch over me everytime, not just when she comes home, but I knelt down and cried for 3 hours to just let me be and my mum just let it go. It stopped when she died.” He bitterly smiled at the attempts of his mother trying to include him at their dig and he always cried as he didn't want to stop his nightly escapades.

Before he can comment any further, Tam shows up behind him, clearly still has a hangover and just woken up, “Why does my phone have thousands of notifications?” 

TIm smiled as he pointed his phone to Tam, “Say hello to the live, Tam.” Tim chuckled and Tam paused as if she was processing what just Tim and hit Tim when everything finally set in. “I fucking hate you.” Tam cursed him as she went to the bathroom.

“There is a guacamole sandwich on the counter for you.” Tim yelled but Tam just popped her hand out and raised her middle finger, making Tim laugh. Tim looked back at the fast scrolling of comments until he saw a very interesting comment.

“ “Are you going to get back together?” Me and Tam? The chance of that happening is like the chance of Lex Luthor stopping antagonising Superman. And Tam has her own endeavour right now. She can’t court a certain baldie that has a penchant for breaking their nose.” Tim laughed at his own joke but  screamed when a cold pair of wet hands just suddenly wiped his face.

“I heard you were talking shit about me.” Tam said, quoting  a meme, making the comments send a bunch of laughing stickers and making Tim laugh after a while. Tam grabbed her sandwich and sat beside Tim, she bit into the sandwich as she asked, “So why are you livestreaming your morning? Is this a hobby of yours?”

Tim shook his hand, even Tam doesn’t remember what they did last night, “Apparently I livestream the two of us singing while drunk, and now everyone wants to know who the heck I am.” Tim briefly explained, and Tam choked a little, before giggling. 

“I knew you were going to have so much clout someday, and that is why I stuck around.” Tam laughed and Tim joined in. “What did you sing while drunk?” Tam asked as she took another bite of her sandwich. 

“I have so many songs that I sang. Apparently the live show was streaming for three hours, and I definitely sang for at least three hours. It is a miracle that I haven’t lost my voice.” Tim told Tam and Tam shot her eyebrows up.

“Damn, man. I know you are kind of indestructible but damn.” Tam said before she looked at the camera and added, “I mean in any way shape or form.” she winked.

Tim rolled his eyes, “So, yeah. The Waynes probably want to know where I am and I need to go back, I still need to prepare for my sister’s wedding. Thank you everyone, and again I am very sorry for my actions last night.” Tim said as he waved to the camera before ending the live.

Tim sighed, “I am very shocked that none of the Waynes are actually trying to break into your house.”

Tam laughed, “I may or may have not done something about that.” she cryptically said. 

Tim widened his eyes, “What did you do?”

Tam grinned, “When I got the news that you filed for your resignation letter, and even the Waynes don't have any clue where you are, they went through with everything that happened after you left to travel the world. But I stepped my foot down when they were trying to break into my house and my office trying to figure out where you are after I got your new number.”

“And they listened to you?” Tim is in disbelief, the Bats listened to someone who established boundaries? That’s news to him.

“Apparently threatening them with you is very effective, since it was kind of fairly recent that you went off the face of earth.”

“Wonder how that works.” Tim murmured, probably guilt and conscience. But Tam heard him and just winked at him.

[sirowsky-stories]

Forward Luxation

Summary: You're recovering from a dislocated shoulder and have to go to a physical therapist. But getting there, you find nothing at all is what you'd expected, least of all the man in charge of your training.

Requested by @bilibiche

Rating: Mature 18+ONLY Warnings: Marcus Moreno x female reader, reader is not described at all, and yes, we're taking liberties with the fact that any visit to an expert in human functionality requires one to take their clothes off. Lots of sexual tension here. Word Count: 2750

   The waiting room is surprisingly cozy for a physical therapist’s office. Although you’ve never been to one before, so you don’t really have anything to compare it to. You’d just sort of imagined it being a bit like a dentist’s office, with the cheap magazines, plastic plants, beige curtains which haven’t been changed in five years, uncomfortable chairs and squeaky linoleum floors.    But this is nothing like that.

   You’re sitting in one of the four available really nice armchairs, each with a little coffee-table to the side, on top of which are no magazines but instead a selection of pamphlets with useful information about the most common muscle injuries and treatments, and phone numbers and websites to other reputable establishments where people can find help for all manner of problems, from yoga studios to psychologists.

   The wallpaper is cream white with a discreet floral pattern in the same color, but glossy against the matte base, and the curtains are a deep green which together with the wallpaper somehow gives the impression that you’re sitting in a park. Especially since the chairs have exposed wood along with the soft cushions, which are the same color green, with embroidered flowers in pale yellow. And you’re pretty sure they’re made entirely of silk.

   Even the coffee is fucking excellent.

   If not for the fact that you had to sign in at the front desk, confirming your appointment and even having to show your ID, before being shown in here, you would’ve thought for sure you were in the wrong place.    This all seems so much more expensive than what you could ever afford. You’re here courtesy of your insurance, so you don’t need to worry about the cost, but it still feels way too fancy for you.

   “Good morning,” a soft and pleasant voice interrupts your thoughts, and you turn your head to find a tall, fit, brown-eyed, ridiculously gorgeous man smiling at you.

   “Uh… g-good morning,” is all you manage in response, because he’s literally taken your breath away by just standing there.

   “My name’s Marcus, welcome to my rehabilitation center. If you’ll please follow me, we’ll get started with a quick exam,” he continues, giving no indication he’s noticed your flustered reaction as he politely steps to the side to indicate which direction you’ll be heading.

   Air floods back into your lungs when you start to move, getting up from the chair and falling in behind him, at which point, your brain starts working again.

   “You own this place?” you ask, jumping at the first topic to come to mind.

   “I do. I started this business eight years ago,” he replies, before reaching a room with a door already standing open, where he stops just outside and beckons for you to enter. “Does that surprise you?”

   “Well, no. I’m just a bit confused overall,” you admit.

   “Oh? How come?”

   “It’s just… My insurance company made it seem like it was a big deal to even get a spot here. That this is like, the best physical rehab center in the country. And then I get here and the only person I’ve seen is the receptionist.”

   “I see. You thought that such a prestigious establishment would have thirty employees and patients constantly coming and going?” he guesses, and you nod, feeling slightly embarrassed.

   But he’s smiling when he gestures for you to take a seat on the large examination table in the middle of the room, while he closes the door and then takes a seat on a mobile stool in front of you.    You note that the temperature in here is higher, and a moment later you realize that it’s probably because people need to undress for him to examine them properly, and suddenly you’re flustered again.

   “The reason why we’re considered one of the best, is precisely because we don’t take on more patients than what we can effectively handle, both from a managerial standpoint, and from a practical one.    Since it’s just me and David here, that means our slots are usually limited to five people per day. Obviously, I’m in charge of the actual therapy, while David handles the charts, bookings, contact with hospitals, insurance and so on.    These limitations enable us to work entirely stress-free with our patients, allowing each session to take almost however much time it requires, whether due to physical restrictions, or mental ones.”

   “Mental ones?” you repeat, getting slightly caught on the notion, since it seems misplaced to you.

   This is physical therapy, not psychological, right?

   “Bodily injuries often result in emotional distress, most of which only comes out when people are confronted with the consequences, which is essentially the heart of what we do here.”

   “So, you’re like a jack-of-all-trades kind of therapist, then?”

   “I suppose I am,” he agrees with a small chuckle. “Now, if you’re satisfied with our business model, we should get started.”

   “Sure,” you say entirely without confidence, feeling the hairs on your arms prickle with nervousness at the mere thought of potentially having to undress in front of this man.

   “Dislocated right shoulder. Forward luxation, if I remember correctly,” he recalls without looking at any charts or notes. “May I ask how it happened?”

   “Oh, I have horses,” you sigh, knowing he’s probably not gonna need much more explanation than that.

   And sure enough, he mirrors your sigh.

   “Ah, yes. That’ll do it. So, how long did you wait before calling for help?” he asks, crossing his arms over his waist with a knowing, although friendly, glare in his eyes.

   “About an hour.”

   His eyebrows shoot up at that, but he can’t seem to find the words at first. And as always, the moment you feel the slightest bit judged for your passion for horses, you get defensive.

   “I couldn’t just drop everything, I had two horses who were panicking because of a fucking snake, I had to get them into the stables.”

   “Yeah, okay, fair enough. How long did that take?” he prods, and you hesitate.

   Because you’ve had both of your horses since they were foals and you’ve trained them well enough that they always trust you, even when they’re scared, which is why it had only taken you a couple of minutes to get them into the stables that day.

   “I don’t have anyone who can help me,” you quietly explain. “I had to make sure they’d be okay if I had to be in hospital for a few days.”

   His expression softens then, but he’s not done investigating.

   “So, you went around hauling hay, probably some buckets of water, checking fences and gates… I assume you also made sure to get rid of the snake, only calling for help once you’d double-checked that you hadn’t missed anything.”

   “I didn’t call. I drove myself to the hospital,” you conclude, at which point Marcus seems to give up any notion that you’re a reasonable human being.

   “As impressive as it is that you were able to endure that kind of pain for so long, you do realize by delaying getting this injury corrected, you probably added another month to the rehab you’re gonna need? Which is only gonna keep you from working with your horses that much longer,” he admonishes, but he sounds concerned more than anything, which tugs at your heart because no one ever concerns themselves about you.

   “I know, but I was… scared,” you admit, surprising yourself, since you haven’t even admitted this to yourself yet. “I’ve never been seriously injured before, and I hate hospitals. I knew I had to go, I just… had to convince myself of it.”

   Unexpectedly, he smiles at you then.

   “Thank you. For being honest with me. That’s always a good start.” He looks so grateful and earnest as he meets your gaze, you struggle not to look away.

   “I know it might not seem like it, but I do want help. I’m just really crappy at asking for it or accepting it.”

   “Well then, you’ll be happy to know I’m stubborn as hell, and I don’t take no for an answer when I know I’m right.    Chances are, you’re gonna get amazingly irritated and sick of me before we’re done, but if you can trust me despite all that, I’ll get you well again,” he offers, and you struggle to believe you could ever get sick of such a wonderful person.

   “I’m not great with trusting people. But I’ll try.”

   “That’s all I can ask for.    Now, I’m gonna need you to take your shirt off so I can assess the mobility of your shoulder.”

   Well, that went from sweet to nerve-wracking in one fucking sentence…    Suddenly your pulse is pounding in your ears, but it’s not like you can refuse. At least, not if you want to regain full mobility.    Internally cursing yourself for wearing a t-shirt and not a top with thin straps of some sort, you start fumbling with the fabric, trying to get it off without causing yourself too much pain.

   He notices that you’re having a bit of trouble and steps around behind you to lift the shirt at the back, which is nice of him. Except that when his warm fingers brush against the bare skin of your neck, you involuntarily shiver, which he of course also notices.

   “Is it too cold in here?” he wonders. “I try to keep it warmer than the rest of the building, but if you need me to turn it up further-…”

   “No, no, I’m fine,” you interrupt him, feeling absolutely ridiculous at how strongly his mere presence affects you.

   “Alright, but just so you know, it’s no trouble. If there’s anything I can do to make this more comfortable for you, don’t hesitate to tell me,” he says, as he carefully starts to prod and examine your shoulder now that the shirt is off, and you’re abruptly having trouble breathing again with the sensation of his skin exploring yours.

   “Oh, you don’t want me to do that…” you think to yourself, while doing your best not to be self-conscious about your choice of bra for the day.

   “Why is that?”

   His mildly bemused and curious question makes you freeze, and as the realization hits you that you’d actually spoken out loud just now, panic floods your every cell in no time flat.    Wishing the ground would open and swallow you, or that lightning would hit you right now, you let your torso fall forwards and then brace your good elbow against your knee so that your hand can catch your head as it drops so heavily into your open palm that it feels like you’ve just slapped yourself.

   “I am so sorry,” you mumble, seriously wondering what the fuck is wrong with you, you don’t even know if the man’s single. “Please ignore me, I don’t get out much.”

   He’s quiet for a moment then, and in that short space of time, you manage to imagine several scenarios for how he’s probably about to scold you for behaving inappropriately.

   “Ah… You didn’t mean to say that out loud, did you?” he finally replies, and he still sounds only bemused, but it does nothing to rid you of your shame.

   “I’m sorry,” is all you can think to say, because that’s how you feel.

   “Hey, don’t feel bad, you haven’t done anything wrong. You’re allowed to think whatever you want.”

   “Even if it’s totally objectifying and unethical?” you counter, and there’s another pause before you hear a low chuckle behind you.

   “Okay, now I’m really curious. What were you thinking?”

   “Never mind, just… continue your exam,” you hurriedly try to deflect, even more mortified by the prospect of having to own up to your completely premature infatuation with him.

   But instead of leaving it alone, he rounds the table until he’s in front of you again, taking a seat on his stool so he’s at your eye-level.

   “As previously discussed, I’ve got time. So, please, do tell me what you think would make you feel the most comfortable with me,” he grins, clearly fully aware that it’s gonna be something juicy, and almost childishly excited to know what it is.

   For the most part, humiliation runs off you relatively easily. But that’s also because you rarely stray out of your comfort zone, which revolves around horses, dogs, driving tractors and using power tools.    Still, on the rare occasions when you do manage to get yourself cornered, you generally suffer for a minute and then you find a way to shake it off.

   And on the super-rare occasions, such as this one, when you’re so far beyond mortified that you don’t even know how to get out of it, something else happens.    You become kinda angry and a bit feral.    The last time it had happened you’d ended up spending a night in jail, and you hadn’t even been drunk.

   You can feel that anger take control of your brain and you know you’re about to say something ill-advised, but there’s no stopping it.    Raising your head, you lock gazes with him and see him flinch at the abrupt shift in your expression.

   “Basically any scenario in which you’re butt naked and in my bed,” you hear yourself almost snarl, and somehow, there’s no shame accompanying the words.

   As crude and inappropriate as they are, it’s the truth, and it wipes the sweetly crooked little smile off his face in a hurry. Although his eyes remain alight and curious.

   “Somehow that’s not what I was expecting you to say,” he slowly observes, and you can’t help how your face falls, hearing that.

   “You and me both, darlin’,” you exhale, feeling the anger fade as the air leaves your lungs, and in its wake, only regret remains. “Maybe I should just go.”

   Standing, you reach for your shirt at the top of the table, but he stops you with a hand on yours, and when you turn to see what he’s doing, he’s suddenly very close.

   “I told you that if you can trust me, I’ll help you.    It might’ve been unintentional, but you were honest with me just now, even though you didn’t want to be, which is a good sign.”

   “Not really,” you protest, starting to feel smaller against his large frame, “I get like that sometimes, when I’m overwhelmed. I blurt things out with no filter, it’s not a choice.”

   “It was still the truth, wasn’t it?” he persists, and you can’t deny it, so you nod. “Okay then, we have a baseline, so let’s build on it rather than abandon it.    I suggest we start with today’s session, and when we’re done, we make dinner reservations for this weekend.”

   You’re so unprepared for that last part, your mouth falls open and your mind goes completely blank for way too long. Like a damned fish, you just stand there, staring at him while his hand still holds yours, gently prying your shirt from it before he motions for you to take your seat again.    Grateful to be guided, since you still can’t think for yourself, you follow his directions and before long, the exam is done and he’s helping you get dressed.

   From there, he shows you out into the gym where he meticulously instructs you on which exercises to do and how often, making you swear not to overdo them.    And you might be imagining it, but you feel like he jumps on any excuse to touch you, holding your waist to make sure your core musculature doesn’t move when it’s not supposed to, or physically redirecting your hips when you’ve unknowingly turned them, even though he could’ve just told you to correct it yourself.

   When you’re done for the day, he takes you back to the exam room where he makes a few notes about how the session went and what you’ve agreed on.

   “Again, no lifting hay, grain, or heavy buckets,” he reiterates for what has to be the tenth time, and you can’t help but roll your eyes at him.

   “I heard you the first nine times.”

   “And you’re still not gonna listen to me, are you?”

   “I live alone with two horses and two dogs, I make no promises, one way or the other.”

   “I’m just gonna have to tie you to the bed then,” he says without a hint of a joke in his voice, before he reaches for a calendar on his desk. “But, dinner first.    How does six o’clock on Friday sound?”

THE END

[medusapelagia]

03 - The price of success

written for @steddieangstyaugust (prompt:  The sunset looks lovely, don't you think?") and @augustwritingchallenge (Prompt: Dark Academia) Rating: Mature Relationship: Steve/Eddie TW: demons, enemies to lovers (mentioned), gun violence, murder, major character death, sad ending, magic, demons Words: 1448

(A big thanks to @midsummer-semantics who told me about the Ornamental Pear Tree 😂)

Steve should have known better. There was no way that using an old book he found in the prohibited section of the library to conjure a demon to help him with his college grades was a good idea. Robin tried to talk him out of it, but he did it the same, and it worked.

It worked so well that now he quickly became the youngest professor in the entire Academy, and even his long-time rival Edward Munson had to acknowledge Steve's competence.

Ancient Rome's history and culture? He knows everything, from the most trivial things to the biggest secrets none was ever able to unravel.

But a deal is a deal, and every deal has a price.

The demon told him that he would have claimed his soul the very moment he found love. As if someone could ever love Steve for real.

Steve immediately agreed, but instead of making him sign a scroll with his blood, the demon just said, “The sunset looks lovely, don't you think?” and disappeared in thin air.

From that moment on Steve’s grades got better and better, he won scholarship after scholarship and numerous colleges offered him a place to teach, but Steve never accepted, being at his college and watching Edward Munson struggle was more than enough for him.

Looking behind himself, with a glass of whisky neat swirling gently in his hand, Steve can see all the opportunities he missed in his life.

He lost all his friends, and he never got married or had a life away from college. He devoted his entire life to his studies, and now that he's close to retirement, nobody is here to celebrate with him.

Still, there's a party down at the cafeteria in honor of his old rival, Edward Munson.

Some old students traveled from all over the world to celebrate the old teacher who left such an impression on their young minds. A couple of those have even dedicated their academic success to Edward Munson.

None did that for Stephen Harrington. The only thing he got was a threatening letter from one of his students accusing him of destroying his future. As if a failed exam could do that to a person.

But that’s just Steve’s life. None was there with him when he won his first Award from the Historical Association or when he published his graduation thesis in a prestigious historical magazine.

Not even his parents, who Steve was so desperately trying to impress, gave him any recognition of his academic success like he was always expected to succeed and the fact that he actually did was just a confirmation that he was doing what he was expected to.

He missed Robin, deeply, but he couldn't really blame her for choosing to follow her girlfriend, now wife, to the other side of the globe. She even tried to stay in contact for the first few years, but after facing Steve's stubborn silence, she slowly distances herself from him.

That hurt, Steve can't deny it, but in the end, it was a good thing, if none was close to Steve he would be safe from the demon curse.

He gulps down the whisky in one go and slowly moves toward the fancy bottle to pour himself some more when a soft knock on the door catches his attention.

For a moment he stills, who might be knocking at his door at this hour, he asks himself, frowning at the big wooden doors. Probably a prank.

He turns back toward the chiseled furniture, pouring more whisky, but someone knocks again with more intention.

"Professor Harrington? Are you there?" a familiar voice asks.

"Professor Munson, what are you doing at my door? I thought you were having a little celebration with your acolytes." he snarls back, not hiding the disdain in his tone.

"Yeah. The kids throw a little party for me. It was nice, I must admit it, but I wanted to celebrate with my old enemy. Would you like to join me in the garden? Our bench is still there."

Steve knows exactly what he's talking about, the old wooden bench where they used to sit when they were young, next to the Ornamental Pear tree, or cum tree as Eddie playfully used to call it due to its strong smell.

But that was ages ago, before Steve's deal, when they were studying together and they dreamed of making some great discovery together.

Steve looks at him weary, before deciding that instead of drinking whisky alone in his office he could always drink whisky with Eddie under the cum tree. After all, today was the last day he would be forced to see him.

He grabs the bottle and two glasses, "Lead the way." 

The college is almost cleared out, the lessons ended the week before and only a handful of students and teachers are still there.

They sit under the cum tree, chuckling about their shared past made of academic competition.

"Do you ever think that things could have gone differently if you weren't such a prick?" Eddie asks, sipping his whisky slowly.

"I'm not a prick. I was a man with a goal and I did my best to achieve it."

"And you totally did. Stepping on everyone, not caring about the debris you left behind, but hey, even after thirty years you're still the greatest expert on Ancient Roman History." Eddie chuckles.

"And you were too busy having fun every night and playing that stupid guitar. Did you ask me to come here just to insult me? Because if that’s the case I think I’ll go back to my study."

"Nah. But I wanted to ask you a question. Was it worth it?" Eddie asks, gulping down the last of his whisky, "Was it worth it to spend all your life alone? Maybe I never won a prestigious award or hosted a special on History Channel, but I had a full life and love and now that I'm retiring everyone came to celebrate." he turns slowly, "Your retirement celebration plan was getting drunk in your office."

"There's nothing to celebrate," Steve replies, "I'm going to lose my home and someone younger will teach a course I created from nothing. Why should I celebrate?"

"You never celebrated. Not even one of your academic successes. Why?"

"I just did what was expected from me." 

"Jee… that's sad even for you, Stevie."

Stevie, like he used to call him when they were friends.

Steve looks into Eddie’s eyes, they are clear and honest like always, and he makes a stupid decision.

"Would you believe me if I told you I made a deal with a demon to achieve academic success?" he asks, pouring more whiskey into his glass.

"I think you're drinking too much."

"I did. But the demon told me that the price was that he would have claimed my soul the very moment I found love. Didn't sound like a big deal at the time."

"Exchanging your happiness for a stupid title? It sounds like a big deal to me!" Eddie replies, chuckling.

The whisky bottle is almost empty when Eddie puts a hand on Steve's knee, "You were the biggest regret of my life, Steve. I had a happy life and few lovers but you… you were something else. The other half of my soul. The missing piece of my puzzle. And I asked you to come here because I'm leaving tomorrow and there's one thing I regretted all my life, and it was not kissing you when I had the occasion. Would you… would you let me...?”

It's just a kiss and then they'll never see each other again. It can't hurt, right?

Eddie tilts his head and bends toward Steve, slowly, giving him the time to recoil, but Steve doesn't move and they finally share a kiss.

"I love you, Steve Harrington," Eddie whispers on his lips and Steve would like to answer that he loves him too, he always did, but someone is running toward them and an angry voice screams something about how unfair Steve's grades were and how he destroyed his future. Steve doesn't really have the time to understand what's going on because the boom of the shoot deafens him for a moment before the man lets the gun fall to the ground and runs away. 

The college security chases the shooter, yelling, while Steve holds Eddie's bloody body in his arms.

"The sunset looks lovely, don't you think?" Eddie stutters. The same word the demon said to him when Steve signed his contract, and when Eddie’s body goes limp Steve finally understands that that's the price the demon requested.

[meetmyothersouls]

Back to u 4 tonight ?

I have worked my ass off on this so I really hope you guys love it!

Back To You

Jonah Hauer-King x reader

Warnings: memory loss, being drunk, throwing up, not proof read

Chapter 4

Jonah's POV

I sit in the library, leaning against my desk. I'm lost in thought, many of them. One of which is the information Jorge just threw at me. I scoff out loud even though no one is around to hear it. The idea of him taking y/n from me is so disgusting to me, it makes me sick to my stomach. I let him walk away unscathed only because I don't want y/n's new opinion of me to turn into a negative one.

Y/n. Then my thoughts go to her. I'm suddenly overwhelmed with a mixture of sadness, longing and love for her. I want our old life back so badly it hurts. I look around the library. It was her favorite room. One, because of all the books. I used to joke that she loved the books in this room more than me. Two, because of all the times we made love in here. I believe there's not one surface left untouched by-

A soft tap on the door brings me out of my daydream. I stand up straight, no longer leaning on my desk. It's Haven.

"Sorry, I was just looking for y/n."

"She's not with you?" I ask, immediately worried.

"No...I thought she was with you."

"Shit," I mutter under my breath. "Well, she's gotta be somewhere in the house. She doesn't know how to get anywhere else," I say, mostly to calm myself down.

Haven and I make our way down the hall, she's not too familiar with the layout of our house either, so she checks the downstairs amongst the guests Val invited, while I check the other two floors of our house. I wait and save my panic for when I'm totally out of sight. I check her room first, then the nursery; the two rooms I know y/n has seen with her own eyes. When those turn up empty, I scour the rest of the house. By the end of my search, I'm flying down the stairs and practically knock Haven over when I reach the bottom floor.

"No luck?" I ask breathless.

"No, but someone mentioned they saw her heading out with Val. Any thoughts on where they could be?"

I groan out loud, "I have an idea or two."

Y/n's POV

I'm downing my fifth shot, Val, Jorge, and several other people I don't know are chanting my name. I've never been much of a drinker, but according to Val, her and I go out and have drinks all the time. She shows me my favorite shots and drinks that we used to get together all the time and, to my surprise, I really like them. I apparently, lean towards the fruity ones with pineapple and strawberry purees. The shots are very bitter and nasty, but they burn going down which I kind of like.

"Okayyyy," I half yell/half slur. "Okay! I think I'm done."

Jorge and Val are talking, deep in conversation with one another and all of a sudden everyone is way too fucking close to me. The room is spinning and my heart is racing. It's too hot, my clothes are too tight, and I'm in England. I run out of the pub and the cool, now almost evening air hits me.

"I'mjustgonnagoonawalk," I call out to Val as the door to the pub swings shut. I wave to her as I turn the corner. I have no idea where I'm going and it's clear to me in my mind, but it doesn't stop me from walking on. The last...how many days has it been? Has been a whirlwind of emotions and information. I'm married, I was pregnant, I live in England and write for an apparently very prestigious magazine according to Val. For some reason the married thing and the pregnant thing have me laughing. I poke at my stomach. It's a little flabby and the tiniest bit sore, it's evident that something was there. That's when I notice that I'm not even wearing a wedding ring. I immediately feel kind of bad because of it. Jonah really is a nice guy and he clearly cares about me. And...I mean...he's very easy on the eyes. He's got the prettiest slightly curly hair, the bluest eyes I've ever seen. His skin is like this permanent sun kissed color that just occurs naturally. I start to wonder what his hands would feel like on my body and I'm reminded about how he grabbed the small of my back on the stairs today. I giggle out loud and have to grab a streetlamp post to steady myself. I look up and I laugh even harder, because I see him walking right toward me. I point to him and wave. Then he sees me, and he starts running. I'm almost on my knees by the time he gets to me. Jonah grabs me and pulls me against him.

"Thank god," he says breathlessly.

"You are real!" I giggle.

"What?"

"Wot?" I imitate his adorable British accent.

"My god, y/n are you drunk?!"

"Yes, Jonah, it appears thatIam. Val and Jorge introduced me to some verygood drinks."

"Jorge?"

"Mhmm. Jorge." I start to walk and Jonah follows. I feel a bit better about walking now, since he at least knows where we're going.

"He didn't...try anything did he?"

"Pffft."

"Y/n, I'm serious."

"Me too. I wouldn't have let him anyway. You're way hotter than he is." I'm a few steps ahead of him and I start to cross the street.

"Whoa!" Jonah yells as he pulls my wrist. My back is against him now and I'm very aware of how his body feels pressed up against mine. I make an effort to press harder against him, and if he notices he doesn't let on, but I wish he did. "Y/n, you can't just walk into oncoming traffic, Darling."

"Darling?" I look up at him, but he's looking forward, his eyes focused on the crosswalk, but he's got the slightest smile on his face.

Jonah's hand is resting on my lower abdomen, holding me protectively. It gives me a flutter in my stomach that I'd normally try to push away, but don't have the mental capacity to right now. He waits for the cross walk to change and when it does, he moves his hand. That's when I grab it and run across the street. We bump into a couple that's walking our direction and I accidentally knock the woman's coffee out of her hands.

"Sorry, I'm so sorry!" Jonah calls over his shoulder as I pull him along.

I'm doubled over in laughter as we make it to the sidewalk while Jonah stands next to me, his hands on his hips in disbelief. His mouth hangs open adorably, as he looks at me like he's seeing me for the first time. Then he's laughing. Hard. It's the happiest I've seen him look since I woke up in that hospital room a few weeks ago.

"You're really a piece of work, you know that?" Jonah says.

"Oooooh, is that a park? Come on!" I take off again, dodging couples and dog walkers and people on mopeds and bikes. Then, I'm on grass it's slightly damp and I feel it through my canvas shoes. It reminds me of the parks in New York. In the distance there's a pond with a fountain in the middle and several swans swimming against a sunset. It looks like a painting.

Jonah finally catches up, his hands on his knees as he catches his breath. "Where is everyone?" I ask.

"Huh?"

"There's not a lot of people here."

"Ah, yes. They're all at home, most likely."

I'm so focused on the scenery in front of me I don't even look at Jonah. "But it's so beautiful."

"Yes. You are."

"What?"

Jonah's staring right at me when I whip my head around. He clears his throat and looks off into the distance. "Yes it is. You know it's funny you came here."

"Why's that?"

"Well," Jonah says, as he begins to walk, "this is where you like to come when you need inspiration for writing. Sometimes I'll find you here laid out on a blanket with a book or a laptop. One time, ahh maybe two years ago, I couldn't find you anywhere. You left your cell at home, I checked every bookstore in London and you were nowhere to be found. I was about to call the police, when I drove past the park and saw a tiiiiny figure way out in the middle of the field."

"Was it me?"

"Mhm. It was. You came out here to read and guess what you did?"

"What?"

"You fell asleep!"

"No way!"

"Yes! You had me worried sick," Jonah laughs. He's still looking out into the distance like he can see the memory in the skyline. And suddenly I feel terrible. I feel dizzy and lightheaded and sick to my stomach. Maybe it's all the alcohol or maybe it's because he clearly loves me so much and I can't recall all those feelings myself.

"You okay?" Jonah asks when he finally looks at me.

"Y-yeah, just need to sit down."

Jonah grabs my hand and leads me to one of the park benches. We sit down and my nausea calms down slightly.

"Jonah?"

"Hmm?"

"I'm sorry." I turn to face him and my breath hitches in my throat. His face is close to mine, much like when we were on the staircase today. He's so beautiful up close I just want to touch his face.

"What for?" Jonah whispers.

"For not being what I was before."

"You're still my y/n, memories or not. You're mine and I'm yours."

"But...but how could you still like me the same knowing I don't have the memories you do or..."

"Y/n, you are my wife. I love you. I'm sorry if that overwhelms you. You don't have to say it. I know you don't love me. Why would you? You don't know me. But I've got a month to make you fall in love with me again and I'll do whatever it takes to make that happen. And even if you never love me again," he swallows hard, and I can feel his breath on my lips as he sighs. His face is so close to mine. He licks his lips and I can't help but lean in. I press my lips against his. He kisses me back softly then pulls away, just as I expect him to.

"Y/n, I'm sorry I just...I want you to be in the right state of mind before I kiss you and-"

Jonah doesn't finish his sentence before I'm throwing up on the ground in front of us.

"Your shoes!"

"It's okay, don't worry about them," Jonah says as he's pulling my hair back. I throw up again and again until my vision goes out and I lose everything around me.

I wake up and it's daylight, but it must be early. I'm wearing new clothes, which is just and oversized t-shirt, and my shoes are off. I'm in the same bed that I slept in the night before. The room is filled with that early morning bluish hue. It's making the room feel cozy and soft and cool.

I sit up in the bed, still no memories...other than kissing Jonah, him rejecting me and then throwing up all over his shoes. I groan and run my hand down my face just as the bathroom door opens and Jonah walks out wearing only a towel around his waist, his hair and body are wet from the shower he must have just taken.

And suddenly I'm filled with even more regret than before.

Tags: @danielabetancourth @luna2034 @wandamaximoffbae @twinkledinkleg-blog @anonyymoouussssss @nonsensical-nonsence @paramorelvrr @thedonswife13 @miniemonie2001 @jonahhauer-kingg

✨ If you want to be added to my Jonah taglist or I missed you on the tag list please comment here!✨

[daifukumochiin]

Summary: Sasuke's orderly life at elite Sairiumu Academy is disrupted by the arrival of Hinata, a timid transfer student whose obvious crush on him, a young man dedicated to his craft and his current relationship, stirs unease. (Initial SasuSaku with SasuHina endgame, modern Norse myth AU, high school, angst, romance, photography, postmodern-ish fic). Rated T

LIGHTS,

BOWS, and

MISTLETOES

an entry for SasuHina Month 2024, Day 27 : Forget and Remember

(for peachy-hina, since December)

@sasuhinamonth

ffnet: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/14369143/1/Lights-Bows-and-Mistletoes

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57030778

Part 1: Lights

go to Chapter List>

v

The small white flower with a sunny yellow center and a wiry stem catching Sasuke's eye under his desk the next morning seemed inconspicuous enough to ignore. He wondered how it got there—perhaps someone had sat at his desk—but his main concern was whether anything had been disturbed. Upon inspection, everything seemed intact; no scribbles were left in his notes like the ones from his grade school days declaring I love you’s. This was Sairiumu, he reminded himself; not an ordinary school filled with snot-nosed kids from pesky neighborhoods. 

Then the sightings continued: it turned up in the gap of his locker, under his umbrella, even wedged in the seam of his car door by the driver’s seat. This strange occurrence persisted until the day of the photography club's orientation.  

To become a bonafide member of Sairiumu's prestigious photography club, candidates must rank in the top fifty of the qualifying exhibition. The previous year, it had been to a jury of select faculty on the theme of “Divinity”; naturally, Sasuke achieved top scores. This year, the club decided on an open anonymous exhibition subject to the votation of the student body. As for the theme, Sasuke couldn’t care less. He wasn’t paying attention to the meeting when it happened—whatever the recruitment committee head suggested, whatever the others voted for, he okayed it and presented it to the potential recruits during the orientation.

Not that he was agreeable.

Far from it.

Everyone in the studio who had suffered Sasuke’s relentless scrutiny knew better than to cross him. His temper is not for the weak of heart. Any aspiring hobbyist photographer who looked up to him because of the tender sensibilities that his works portrayed in famous photography magazines risked bruising their illusions of him. But already, freshmen none the wiser who signed up for the club flocked around him asking for autographs and pictures.

Sasuke indulged them; nothing too untamed that it should bother him so much. He loved good-humored attention in heaps, but not the extreme kind. 

Amid all the fawning clamor, he caught a whiff of that blueberry scent, and that was enough to make him guarded, his accommodating smile vanishing from his face.

“Senpai? If you don’t mind one more pic…” requested one of the freshmen when he made an about-face. 

He didn't find her there. She hadn’t bothered him in class or followed him and Sakura home since the subway train incident. That had also been the last time he’d been wary of her. She had stayed out of his periphery and it assured him that she was practically harmless at that point. During the orientation, he had also been too preoccupied to notice if she attended.

“Sorry. Some other time,” said Sasuke. “We need to make preparations and you could really use the time to think about your entries.”

Disappointed, the freshmen hesitated to press him further seeing how his mood took a 180-degree turn.

As the crowd dissipated and the auditorium was emptied leaving only Sasuke and his core club members, recruitment committee head Tenten pointed out, “You’ve got a cute, little thing there,” nodding at his chest pocket.

Sasuke scrunched his brows and looked down his nose. He found the small white flower he had been finding everywhere peeking up at him and retrieved it. “I think someone’s playing mind games with me.”

Tenten burst into laughter. “With chamomile?” she asked incredulously. “Looking at it closely, that must be a wild chamomile—a weed!”

Sasuke responded with a disapproving click of his tongue. "It must be a form of harassment," he remarked.

The others, preoccupied with indulging in premium donuts and delicate afternoon tea treats, overheard the exchange and dismissed it as 'almost neurotic' with lighthearted amusement, not taking Sasuke's comment seriously following Tenten—they savored the instant as much as they did their luxurious delicacies; it was such a rare opportunity, a happenstance that boosted budding protestations to surface.

But Morio, his classmate and club vice president, said:

“So you think Hinata Hyuuga’s harassing you?” 

At the mention of her name, Sasuke's jaws clenched, perturbed by a flood of feelings he couldn't comprehend: angry, that he thought his concerns about Hinata had been done away with; disturbed, by the possibility of the little show he and Sakura put on the other day not being enough to dissuade further attempts from her.

Their laughter ceased; their tea suddenly lukewarm; the scones turning bland due to the nervousness that the palpable tension in the air around Sasuke could so easily induce upon them.

"How so?" Sasuke cautiously asked. How did Morio come up with the notion? He never told anyone. Apart from him, only Sakura knew.

“Gotta hand it to you—she is weird,” added Morio who kept his calm. “Thought you had a flirtatious affair going on when I saw her slip it in…”—he took a sip from a Ginori, amusement dancing in his eyes—“Thought I had witnessed you cheating on your girl.” 

There, Sasuke determined he had enough. Bogged down by the thought of the paranoia she caused him since meeting her for the first time at Hashirama’s bridge in the rain, of the sleepless nights thinking about her and what she said, of the confusion about whether any of it had anything to do with him at all—because she made it seem like he did when really, he doesn't—he quickly excused himself from the rest and exited the auditorium.

While crossing the central courtyard to reach Cluster B where his classroom was, he stumbled upon Hinata by the central fountain. Heart caught in his throat, Sasuke discovered that words had deserted him.

What was he trying to say? How is he the worst at confrontations having nothing to do with photography?

The fountain's gentle rhythm mirrored the turbulent emotions coursing through him, mingling with the rustling leaves from the bower of Linden trees lining the adjacent paths.

There was an unspoken intensity trammeling as it coursed the air when their eyes met. Hinata stood there, her expression a portrait of shock as if she were a cat caught mid-theft, frozen and wide-eyed, as during that time at Hashirama’s bridge, holding her breath, faintly searching for recognition in his eyes, where there stood none.

For a heartbeat, the world seemed to fall away, leaving just the two of them in silent, differing agonies.

Maybe it served his peace of mind best to ask what she meant by her words then. On the other hand, Sasuke feared she'd take it as tacit permission to do whatever she so desired; whatever that is, he could only conjure to mind the worst things from experience. He doesn’t know her, she doesn’t know him. And if she ever does know about him through magazines or the internet, he won’t indulge whoever fan with any of their delusions in parasocial relationships.

Finally gaining chutzpah, Sasuke held out the flower clenched in his right, and with a pang of cruel satisfaction when he saw expectation gripped Hinata's face, threw it on the fountain where it floated momentarily before being carried away, shaking against the ripples.

Hinata gasped. Her eyes widened further, lips trembling as she bit back words that seemed desperate to escape.

“So it is you,” Sasuke confirmed. “Stop while I’m still asking nicely.”

“But–” she began, her voice barely a whisper.

“Don’t follow me around," Sasuke interrupted, his tone harsher than he intended. "My girlfriend doesn’t appreciate it, and neither do I. Stop before the worst things happen to you.”

It wouldn’t be his worst sin; being cruel to her like this is also kindness on his part. Sasuke appeased his raging conscience with that thought. "And if you're looking for someone... You’re sorely mistaken. That person is not me."

go to Chapter List>

[ayotofu]

I saw you talking about publishing poetry, how do you go about doing that? I entered contests when I was in college and enjoyed it, but idk where to look for that stuff now that I'm graduated.

hm well i'm not like an expert but basically here's what i do

read poetry. like, not even as a "u learn how to write by reading thing (though u def do)" but as "see where the people you like and the people u emulate get published and check those places out"

read more stuff from them

if u have stuff that seems to fit their vibe, check out their submission guidelines (usually easy to find, but uh. not always. see: HAD)

put together a submission packet. i tend to be of the "more is more" thought in this regard. if the option is 3-5 poems best believe i'm sending 5 unless i really just don't have any. my thought process is that 5 poems gives them two more chances to say yes than if i only sent 3

write a cover letter. this, again, can be tailored to the place youre submitting to. most places i send a really formulaic letter because i don't want to stand out for my cover letter and not my writing, u know? i usually list the pieces in the packet and some previous publications and then some biographical info (very brief, just places of study and relevant info like that) and some places don't ask for cover letters at all anymore! and then there's also HAD which i usually submit to in a desperate frenzy to make it so my cover letter is usually something like "wazzup" because of the. insane way HAD runs their submissions

then start submitting!

Some other notes:

I'm not paying money for this shit. when i was younger i was more willing, but now im unmoving in my stance. i'm not paying other people to maybe publish my work. reading fees are dumb imo and i'm not paying.

to that end, contests are almost always pay to enter, but that is different to me. the payments generally go to pay for whatever prize there is or if there's a guest judge or whatever. you kind of accept that when it comes to contests. i still don't submit to contests, but thats less because i reject the concept of them and more because i'm poor and my poetry is dece but not good enough to win a contest lol

i've submitted to bigger magazines, but i usually have the most fun with the fringe weirdo ones. they're less prestigious if you want a career or whatever but mostly i just like that HAD published my poem about my aunt's teeth u know?

anyway thats way more information than you asked for but there you go!

[shannendoherty-fans]

August 1992 - Shannen Doherty on the cover of YM (Young & Modern) magazine, by Firooz Zahedi.

Brunette bombshell Shannen Doherty – How she got it all - Part 1.

The got-it-all Girl

BY DARIO SCARDAPANE The real Shannen Doherty isn't anything like guy-magnet Brenda Walsh. In fact, Shannen didn't even snag a date for her high school prom. But now she's got it all – a mega-hit TV show, major bucks, a great-looking fiancé and the world at her feet. We got the girl who's got it all to tell all.

Shannen Doherty arrives at the Beverly Hills Hotel in a brand-new Mercedes 500 SL convertible – black, of course. Next to her, in the leather seat, sits her 26-year-old fiancé, Chris Foufas, a very wealthy and very good-looking real-estate developer. The valet attendants jump they've seen a lot of star power wheel up this driveway and they know the drill – and Doherty and Foufas receive the ultra-VIP treatment reserved for Hollywood's elite. The car taken care of in grand style, Doherty, dressed in a green silk shirt tucked into faded blue jeans, strides confidently past the smiling doormen into the hotel's sumptuous lobby. Money, cool cars, gorgeous guys. Is there any need to ask the zip code of this hotel? You guessed it. It's 90210. But the tiny (about five-foot-three-inch) brunette who nestles into the booth of the hotel's Polo Lounge is a far cry from Brenda Walsh. For one thing, she's prettier her skin under very light makeup is crystal clear. For another, she's older (21) and a whole lot wiser than her high school TV heroine.

"It's fine to look up to Brenda Walsh," Doherty says, gazing at a menu. "But Shannen Doherty is a different person. Brenda's more insecure, she's not as much of her own person as I am. And I have a career, Brenda doesn't."

Yes, Doherty definitely has a career – a solid body of work that began in 1982 with the TV series Little House: A New Beginning, included a role in the film Heathers, with Christian Slater and Winona Ryder, and landed her on fame's doorstep with the phenomenal success of 90210. Although she attended L.A.'s prestigious Lycée Français (whose previous students include Jodie Foster and Christie Brinkley), all that work left her little time for the joys (or the boys) of high school years. "I wasn't really there," Memphis-born, L.A.-reared Doherty recalls. "I didn't really have friends from that school, 'cause I was on [the TV series] Our House. So I was being tutored after hours, and then I did Heathers, and I took 12th grade at the same time I took 11th grade just to get out of school because I hated it. You know, I guess my problem is that I am not the most social person in the world. I didn't really need the social scene of high school." Nor did Doherty need the attentions of would-be high school sweethearts. "I never dated high school guys when I was young," Doherty says with a smile. "I dated older men 'cause I sort of had a thing, like every girl has a thing, for older men. There was nothing wrong with the guys in high school, but at the time I was a little confused, and I didn't want to add a confused boyfriend to that." All in all, Doherty's teenage years held less luster than does Brenda's heady social whirl on 90210. Even the prom, that peak night of adolescent bliss, was a lot less than it was built up to be.

"I'm not a prom girl. I didn't go to my prom," Doherty says, sipping orange juice. "But my father had a business associate who had a son, and he asked me to go with him to his prom.'

She rolls her eyes as she recalls that enchanted evening. "I went, and I hated it. Hated it. For one thing, I wore this dress that I wore on Our House. It was black, strapless and very, very low cut – unlike any other prom dress there. I don't know, the kids looked at me kind of funny, and I went, 'This is not my scene. I think I'd much rather be at home reading a book.' So I left pretty fast."

Shannen at a glance Birthday: April 12, 1971. Sign: Aries. Born: Memphis, TN. Reared: Los Angeles, CA. Siblings: One brother, 24, a law student. Parents: Dad's a banker; Mom runs Vera's Retreat, a facial salon in Beverly Glen, CA. Dogs: Five – two rottweilers, a Great Dane, a golden retriever and a Labrador retriever. Favorite book: The Sun Also Rises. Favorite designers: Anthony Moorcraft, Gigli, Armani, Gaultier, Roberto Robledo, Moschino – and Levi's: "I'm very much a Levi's girl." Favorite bands: The Replacements, the Cure, Cowboy Junkies, the Black Crowes, the Rolling Stones. Favorite movies: The Black Stallion and Breakfast at Tiffany's. Favorite fragrance: Coco.

Meeting Chris, her fiancé, changed everything. But the two came together under less-than-idyllic conditions. "Oh yeah, we met in a very interesting manner." Doherty chuckles. "Basically I was dating his best friend…. It's not as bad as it sounds. And his best friend turned out to be the biggest jerk in the world. And I broke up with him. Then Chris and I started becoming friends…. We just fell in love." Judging by the size of the diamond on Doherty's finger, this is the Big One, that true love thing. There's been a lot said in the press about the rock set in Doherty's engagement ring – the price, the size – and all the speculation seems more than a little impolite and catty. Let's just say it's big… very big. Six-and-a-half-carats big.

When our waiter arrives, Doherty does something unexpected. Looking at her perfectly svelte form, you'd guess she'd have a nice melon or something bran-like for breakfast. No way, not this girl. Doherty orders a cheeseburger, "extra greasy" with mayonnaise, and a side of fries. She notes my look of astonishment and laughs. "My diet is whatever I want to eat," she chirps. "I have a really high metabolism, and I'm always running around doing something, so I've never watched what I've eaten." But greaseburgers must play hell with that perfect parchment complexion, I say. "Well, my mom runs a facial salon, Vera's Retreat. And my facialist, Melissa, is amazing. I get facials every three weeks. Other than that I go home and wash it, and that's all I do." All right, she can eat whatever she wants and never pick up a pound or a zit. Her fiancé's a babe with bucks, and her television show's a raging success. Is there anything else the girl could want?

"I always want more," she says with a steady look in her eye. "I read something that answered the question, 'Can women have it all?' by saying, 'Nobody can have it all.' And I thought, What a negative attitude, because in my opinion, you can have it all – if you work hard. What's having it all to me? Having it all is having a successful film career. A wonderful marriage. Kids." And although many women find balancing a career and a family a job in itself, Doherty foresees no trouble in that department. “I'm an actress, and I'm here to work. My main goal is to work for the rest of my life. But I find time for Chris and my family. Because when everything is said and done, the acting may not be there, but the relationship will, so that's what you have to work on the hardest."

It's precisely this type of wisdom that separates Doherty from Brenda and most of the young people, fictional or otherwise, living in the environs of 90210. For all the attention, money, cars and fame at Doherty's command, her head seems remarkably clear, downright mature.

Doherty pushes the remnants of her cheeseburger around on her plate. "Well," she says with a trace of wistfulness, "I grew up kind of fast." Which is usually a tried-and-true recipe for disaster. So far, though, the got-it-all girl seems to be beating the odds. Make that obliterating them.

(Part 2)

[phanfictioncatalogue]

New York Masterlist

Aria in the Snow (ao3) - Eavans

Summary: If you asked most people of Daniel J. Howell’s lot in life, they’d tell you it was pretty good. A small career writing for a fashionable magazine, the heir to one of New York’s most prestigious hotels, the convenience of youth and an ailing millionaire father… what more could an 18-year-old ask for?

So when a night at the symphony turns into the start of a whole new double life in the city’s queer underworld, the heir to New York’s most fashionable hotel will have to learn what is what when you’re dating a cabaret singer, and who is who when that singer becomes a troubled star.

So it’s nothing but fate to blame when things start to fall apart. The catch? It’s the last half of the 1920s—

And this romance is illegal.

A Summer Beside You (ao3) - yiffandquiff

Summary: Dan Howell, a New York City native, suddenly finds his world turned upside down when he is told that his estranged father is wanting to spend the summer with him. Having not seen his father since he was young, he is reluctant to travel to this small little beach town to see him. Bringing his younger brother along with him, he boards a plane and heads south. Upon arriving, Dan goes to the boardwalk just down the beach and runs into a native by the name of Phil Lester. As Dan starts to spend more and more time with the native rich kid in town, he finds himself slowly falling in love. Through trips to the boardwalk and even just simple walks down the beach, Dan realizes that he doesn’t want to leave this town behind. But as the date of his departure edges closer and closer, he finds that his grasp on this small town and his love for Phil strengthen, leaving him to make the ultimate decision: Do I go back to NYC or do I stay here with my dad and Phil?

Devotion (ao3) - roryonice

Summary: Dan is a ballerina who’s practicing for an audition at Julliard, but he’s afraid of performing in front of other people. He meets Phil, who’s gathering photos for his art portfolio, and Phil helps Dan come out of his shell in an interesting way.

everything has changed (ao3) - gamingbeats

Summary: Dan and Phil go on holiday to NYC and everything changes when Dan books only the couple's options.

falsettoland (ao3) - confusednp

Summary: New York City—1979. All Phil Lester wants is a tight-knit family, even as he struggles to connect his ex-wife and child with his lover, Dan. Their lives become tangled together when the lesbians from next door give a grave warning: something bad is happening. As life becomes darker than anyone could’ve imagined, the eccentric family finds way to keep believing that everything will be all right.

i can hear it now (like i heard it then) (ao3) - kay_okay

Summary: Dan watches Phil light up, and suddenly feels like everything's in slow motion. They're still making their way up 7th, Times Square’s persistent neon glow casting waves of pinks and greens and yellows onto the pale of Phil’s face like a projector to a wall. He's struck by his own memory, their own night up on the Manchester Eye, surrounded by another city dark and light at the same time.

He doesn’t hear a word of Phil’s story.

in wildest dreams (i never dreamed of this) (ao3) - twoheadlights (fizzfic)

Summary: Dan and Phil take a walk in Central Park.

i will follow where this takes me (ao3) - curiosityandrain

Summary: Dan has a great life, he has an amazing job as a photographer and he lives in New York City. Phil is an independent filmmaker who hires Dan to work on his upcoming feature film after his usual cinematographer was involved in an accident. The two hit it off and become instant friends. Weeks of working together everyday helps develop their friendship and slowly but surely, Dan realises his feelings for Phil run deeper than just friendship. The only problem is, Phil’s taken.

I Don’t Love You (ao3) - Raspberrysaxophone

Summary: Dan and Phil work in an office and are (unfortunately) sharing a desk. Phil is often away on business or working from home so they are never there at the same time. They both get frustrated with how the other one organises the shared space and tell each other that through notes

- or -

Dan and Phil hate each other, but soon Dan realises that he is developing a crush on him. What will a New York business trip (where they are sharing a room xxx) do to their relationship?

magic in the hamptons (ao3) - t_hens

Summary: Phil is bored with going to parties every weekend with people he doesn’t like. Bored of going to school for a degree he hates just to please his parents. Bored of pretty much everything in his life, until he meets Dan, an inscrutable college student, who shows him that maybe he can have the things he wants in life - he just has to be brave enough to pursue them.

Maybe I miss you (ao3) - Misha_with_wings

Summary: Phil leaves Dan for several months to temporarily live in New York City and work on a movie set.

The distance between them drove them both insane, but neither of them could voice the reason why.

When Dan comes to visit Phil in New York his feelings are threatened to spill after an encounter with one of Phil’s new friends, but he keeps lying- to both Phil and himself.

Hopefully he can eventually tell the truth, because Phil gets another long-term job opportunity in California and Dan can’t take any more distance.

new york, new york - gorgeousdan

Summary: It’s Dan’s eighteenth birthday, and Phil has a special surprise for him.

New York Surprise! (ao3) - Hannah_Writes

Summary: Dan wanted to give Phil the greatest gift ever, a trip to New York! But what happens when Phil gets sick?

plum (ao3) - twoheadlights (fizzfic)

Summary: "Have you ever woken up next to someone and been like, 'you know I don’t think this is going to work out'?"

-

things start to look a little different away from london. it gets phil thinking.

Reach for the Stars (ao3) - KaytheJay

Summary: Dan is a lawyer who went to New York when he forced himself to take a break from work. He thinks it is a pointless trip until he runs into his favorite YouTuber from back in the day.

somewhere up above my heart. (ao3) - commonemergency

Summary: This is a space that he knows. This is what familiarity feels like. Home has been a lot of things lately but right now this was the truest definition of it. or a brief moment of affection and new york city lights.

The End Of All Things (ao3) - whispersbabe (orphan_account)

Summary: Dan and Phil are in NY for TATINOF and the exhaustion of travelling is starting to kick in. When their attempts at sleep prove to be in vain they go for a walk and realise what they mean to eachother. It's cute.

The Sixteenth of April (ao3) - thesassykels66

Summary: Why does the month of April always seem so significant to Dan and Phil? Simple, it is when they celebrate their anniversary.

Welcome To New York (It’s Been Waiting For You) - doomedhowell

Summary: Phil’s a popular British youtuber who’s currently living in New York, and he’s been talking on Skype to Dan, who lives in London. After talking months on Skype and begging his parents, Dan finally goes to New York to meet Phil for the first time.

When the Sun Came Up (ao3) - thatsmistertoyou

Summary: Prequel to the existing parts of the RWWA series; in which Dan and Phil learn how to be in love again.

[confessionsfromthesecondrow]

Honey, We Shrunk the Interns.

Growing up, I never dreamed of pursuing a career in fashion. Right up until I left college in 2011, I was fixated on the idea of becoming a barrister. Although fashion was an avid interest of mine – one that I studied intensely, poring over my favourite magazines and keeping up with runway shows each season – it felt a million miles away from the reality of my quiet, suburban life. After all, it's not what you know, but who you know – fashion’s unofficial epitaph that is sadly still relevant over a decade later. 

With no connections via relatives or family friends, I turned to Gaydar, determining that through the gay network I’d find an in. As luck would have it, I came across a young fashion photographer who put me in contact with his stylist flatmate to embark on my first internship. 

I wasn’t paid a single penny, much to the dismay of my parents – who chose more reliable careers in building and finance – but my modest entry into the industry felt akin to the moon landing, at least to me anyway. I met models, hauled suitcases filled with returns on buses all over London, and peered inquisitively at the magic being made on set while steaming clothes in photo studios – marvelling at Prada samples that I recognised from the runway. I even met fashion royalty, in the form of Pam Hogg, who offered me a cup of tea when I turned up rain-soaked at her studio one sodden evening. 

From there, an internship at GQ Style followed, the majority of which I spent sobbing in the bathroom thanks to the (nameless) editor at the time who often humiliated me with pointless menial tasks. In one instance, I was asked to hand deliver a single daffodil to Alasdair McLellan sans address, later loudly berated in the open plan office for the flower’s wilted demise by the time I was provided with the studio’s location. 

My introduction to interning finished with a friendlier stint at Dazed – acquired via the gay network, once again – five years before I’d return in a full circle moment as a fashion editorial assistant. 

Beyond the obvious hands-on experience my months of interning provided me, it quickly proved even more valuable than I realised. After initially being rejected by University of Arts London to study fashion journalism, a follow-up email clarifying the additional internships I’d undertaken quickly secured me an interview and later a prestigious place on the course. 

Throughout my studies at university, we were encouraged to continue gaining industry experience, culminating in a term entirely dedicated to interning during my second year. Interviewing at Wonderland and 10 magazine, I chose the latter, and continued interning there throughout my final year – while simultaneously juggling my final major project, writing my dissertation, and a part-time job – until I ultimately became the publication’s fashion assistant upon graduation. 

Over my career, I’ve had the privilege of working with hundreds of interns – the good, the bad, and the lazy – the brightest sparks among them going on to become my peers holding jobs at Clash, The Face, GQ, Wallpaper*, Matches, and British Vogue. As was my experience at 10, it was common for brilliant interns to find themselves earning entry-level full-time roles within Dazed and AnOther right up until the pandemic when the company’s internship programme was discontinued. 

At the time, the Guardian reported that 61% of employers cancelled their placements due to the pandemic, with small and medium-sized businesses the most likely (49%) to do so. Yet, as we emerged from the two-year slump, internships were just as scarce, largely due to HMRC cracking down on unpaid internships – serving fashion publications (both the media and arts are serial offenders) with warnings of fines if they failed to pay interns the national minimum wage. 

So, where does that leave today’s budding fashion journalists? 

‘It is impossible, it literally feels like winning the lottery,” Moira Gonazález, an MA Fashion Communication student at Central Saint Martins tells me. ‘My plan was to join a team as an intern and work my way up, but it’s so difficult to start like that – maybe one person out of every 20 will reply and most of the time you don’t learn anything. I’ve ended up assisting so many stylists where I’ve just been in Ubers picking up stuff all around London. So many people still expect you to work full-time for free, which is crazy, but everybody’s willing to do it for fashion.’ 

Despite being required to complete 120 hours in the industry as part of her BA, Moira was the only person on her course who was successful in doing so. ‘The teachers said that if you worked on shoots for uni that it would count towards the hours, so there was no motivation to go out and get the experience,’ she says. ‘The process can also be so long, it took four months to get to the interview stage for an internship at Burberry. How can you survive living in London as a 20-year-old and pay rent if you have to wait for four months to get an answer? It’s impossible unless you’re privileged enough not to worry about money.’

To see for myself, I looked into fashion editorial internships in London to see what was currently available. Unsurprisingly, I failed to find a single placement to apply for and advice offered by the Business of Fashion overlooked the obvious, that no amount of experience or tenacity can help secure an internship if there aren’t any available to begin with. Reaching out to all the editors I knew, the results were marginally better with month-long placements available for university students only at 10 and the Evening Standard. The majority – including Elle, Wallpaper*, GQ, The Face, and Perfect – responded with a resounding no, with Vice allegedly going as far as implementing a company-wide ban on all internships. 

Of the paid internships the government were hoping would become available, only Dazed and British Vogue currently offer them – both six months, full-time, and paid the London Living Wage – though at the time, the vacancies were filled. ‘I remember when British Vogue posted the internship on LinkedIn and after two days they already had 500 applicants,’ Moira says. ‘When I later saw who got the internship, she had worked at two banks previously, studied politics, and was 25 or 26 so had a much bigger CV. How can I even compete?’ 

‘For me, I’ve always found that there was never a clear route into the industry, I didn’t have a degree and my parents aren’t creative – there’s nobody in the creative industry in my immediate family. I wasn’t getting anywhere and couldn’t get my foot in the door,’ says Louis Merrion, Dazed Digital’s inaugural paid editorial intern. ‘I had come to a point where I was looking at unpaid internships, but I’d have to work weekends to be able to afford to commute from Southend. All of sudden you’re working seven days a week and you could come out of the end of it without having gained any experience. It’s easy to see why people get so disillusioned with the system.’ 

Three months into his tenure at Dazed, Louis’ day-to-day involves tasks that you'd expect for aspiring writers: shadowing working journalists, transcribing, researching, pitching and writing their own stories. ‘It feels more like an apprenticeship than an internship because of the learning aspect of it, you’re not expected to come in and know how the industry works straight away,’ he adds.

With several bylines now under his belt, Louis is already using the opportunity to gain additional experience working alongside Dazed’s social and Studio teams, which he hopes will set him in good stead once his internship ends. ‘I couldn’t ask for a better first creative job and the experience I’ve gained is invaluable,’ he says. ‘I now feel like somebody who is actually involved in the creative industry as opposed to being a part-timer; I have the belief that I could have a career in it. It’s not as far-reaching as it seemed six months ago.’ 

It sounds too good to be true and for most it will be – the cost of paying the LLW means that spaces on such internships are currently limited to two golden tickets per year. What do you do if you're not so lucky?

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A post shared by @mentoring.matters

An alternative path into the industry – thanks, in part, to the diversity reckoning fashion faced in 2020 – are mentorships that pair beginners with working creatives for 1-2-1 support over a six-month period. 

Mentoring Matters (founded by Laura Edwards, a design director who has worked with Christopher Kane and Alexander McQueen), Room Mentoring (founded by Elle's editor-in-chief Kenya Hunt), RAISEfashion, and The Junior Network are a handful of these schemes born during the pandemic – generally aimed at aiding Black and brown creatives and those from working-class backgrounds. 

In 2021 through Mentoring Matters, Aswan Magumbe, a BA Fashion Communication student at Central Saint Martins was paired with i-D’s global editorial director Olivia Singer. ‘Mentoring was more personal, so Olivia helped me pinpoint specific things I needed help with like pitching and how to approach PRs. I also got a lot more in-depth feedback about my writing,��� she shares. Yet, even with this, Aswan admits, ‘I’m still very stuck. Mentoring is good because you have somebody to turn to, but I still don’t know how to navigate internships. I really don’t know the route to take.’ 

As a working journalist, I’d be hesitant to take on a role as a mentor for this very reason. While I could impart practical wisdom on how to be a writer, I have no means of offering advice on where to practise those skills. While well-intentioned, these mentorship schemes are guiding marginalised voices into an industry that has been reluctant to give them a seat at the table to begin with. How responsible this is without fully understanding or doing more to remove the roadblocks that sadly still exist remains to be seen.

It’s a complex issue, yet to be properly acknowledged – the disheartening reality is that many editors I spoke to weren’t aware that their publications no longer offered internship opportunities. I urge them to similarly reflect on their own arduous journeys – regardless of whether they grafted as an intern or not – and question leadership on why they aren't putting more time and resources towards supporting the talents of tomorrow. Take a chance on a new writer with no bylines, become an unofficial mentor, answer that email asking for advice – do more!

We’ve talked enough about making opportunities more readily available for those who want to pursue a career in fashion – it’s time to finally do something about it. 

[leicamoments]

Competition Time

I see the new year round of competitions has started...announcing the commencement of the 2024 process to apply for the merry-go-round.

I've not entered a competition in around 30 years and refuse to do so these days. For the record, the last one I entered was the Wanderlust competition and I won my category...the image being published in their book, in the magazine and shown at various exhibitions.

It wasn't the first competition I had won - but it certainly was the last.

Why? Because most of the competitions I see these days fail on three fronts.

Firstly, there are too many of them that require you to pay to play. Why should you have to pay to enter one of your pictures, for the judges to look at?

The body running the competition can make money from publishing the photo(s); they can get sponsorship for the competition; they can get publicity for running the competition that boosts their sales or membership.

So, my advice is, don't pay to enter any competition!

Secondly, Gratuitous copyright grabs. There are competitions that essentially take your copyright, or certainly ensure that however good your image is and however commercial it could be...you won't ever make a penny from them because they enforce an exclusivity clause or hold the rights to publish.

So again, don't give in to that small print clause.

Thirdly, a lot of competitions boil down to a popularity vote. Favouring those people with large social media followings, associations with groups or companies, or simply are shameless enough to relentlessly market their image at people asking them to vote for it.

A popularity vote, where the image may not be even be looked at by those that vote...simply, in my eyes, invalidates the competition and results.

At the end of the day, those competitions that don't fail the above tests are essentially a subjective process of the 'here and now'. What I mean is that at the given time and place, with the person(s) asked to make a judgement on what is in front of them...it is simply a comparative decision.

That doesn't mean your image isn't good enough. It doesn't mean that your picture isn't superb and deserves to win. Not at all, it just means, at that time an arbitrary decision was made to rank photos in a particular order...when at a later date, they could be put in a totally different order.

I've seen so many professional photographers putting up on their websites that they are an 'award winning' photographer and that may well be true, but what in the end does that mean?

Most of the awards that they list may well be competitions that you've never heard of and may find difficult to find out much about. Who says that they are even real competitions!

I've seen several photographers that base their whole marketing of their company and themselves on being 'award winning'; and when you look at the images they've won awards for...it may very well be the same photo entered into 20 competitions over a period of ten years.

I find that a questionable practice - but believe me, it does happen (and far more frequently than you would imagine).

So no, I don't enter competitions. I don't say that I am an award winning photographer. I don't care about that side of the industry.

For those that win the big, recognised and prestigious competitions - I am genuinely in awe of some of the work that is shown; but the rest...as Shania Twain said...that don't impress me much.

For the pay to play and popularity vote awards...If that's your bag...then fine...I wish you luck!

[destinyc1020]

I love how everyone switched up on jacob elordi after having a few positive reviews for performance ( mind you hes overshadowing the leads barry keoghan in saltburn who has been getting rave reviews and cailee spaeny who also delivered why is that being ignored. The same cailee who just won a prestigious acting award at venice)

Im happy for jacob elordi but also why is that that when black actors and poc actors get positive reviews for there for performances they get neglected or never the given the respect that white actors who do the bare minimum get. Like people really be putting white men on a pedestal for doing the bare minimum. Where is the kelvin harrison, nicole beharie, brian tyree henry, riz ahmed, kiki layne, etc love they've given amazing performances and yet havent even got the same amount of love as JE. Again Im happy JE its amazing to be praised for your work but can we also not reserve that praise only for white men.

I love how everyone switched up on jacob elordi after having a few positive reviews for performance ( mind you hes overshadowing the leads barry keoghan in saltburn who has been getting rave reviews and cailee spaeny who also delivered why is that being ignored. The same cailee who just won a prestigious acting award at venice)

Oh wow, I didn't realize that he's overshadowing even Barry's work in Saltburn. 👀 That's interesting, because judging from the trailers, it seems like Barry is going to have the tougher acting performance lol. But we'll see I guess? I mean, I hate to say it, but JE being one of the very FEW actors to be able to promote his work ("Priscilla") right now is definitely working in his favor. Plus, he's SUPER tall, and based on who you ask, probably more "conventionally handsome" than Barry.... 👀 I'm not surprised in the least if he's getting attention. The Devil works hard, but JE's publicists work HARDER! LOL! 😅🤣 I kept telling y'all that when they were calling JE "Generation Z's Leading Man" in that magazine article a while back that they were stretching things and just trying to make him HAPPEN sooo harrrrd lol. Most people were like, "HUH?? Did Tom Holland and Timothee Chalamet up and die that we don't know about?" (Technically, Timmy is a Millennial though lol 🤭)

His team was also trying to put his name out there for James Bond rumors, and for the role of playing the new Superman lol. Like geez.... they don't take a break! Cuz I swear, noooobody was checking for him like that in order to cast his name out in the ring for these two huge franchises. Now, maybe after THIS year, I can see his name swirling and circulating more in these circles. But last year? Psshhht... please lol 😅 The man has never even led a film or even BEEN in a film on the big screen before "Priscilla", let's be honest.

I think we should just wait to either see these two films, or just wait to see what OTHER moviegoers say about the films and who really stole the show before we judge too quickly. Either JE is just getting a bunch of shine simply because he's the only one who can really promote stuff right now lol, OR, he really does shock people by how good his acting really is, and we just are yet to see it onscreen. 🤷🏾‍♀️

Im happy for jacob elordi but also why is that that when black actors and poc actors get positive reviews for there for performances they get neglected or never the given the respect that white actors who do the bare minimum get.

❤️❤️ Yea girl, I know what you mean. 😔 We all know what type of society we live in, so it's not even surprising at this point. But you're right, it's just annoying that poc actors get ignored ALL the time, even when we're acting our tails off in several roles. There's usually very little fanfare.

Like people really be putting white men on a pedestal for doing the bare minimum. Where is the kelvin harrison, nicole beharie, brian tyree henry, riz ahmed, kiki layne, etc love they've given amazing performances and yet havent even got the same amount of love as JE. Again Im happy JE its amazing to be praised for your work but can we also not reserve that praise only for white men.

THIS!! Like, don't get me wrong, I'm happy for JE, and I'm happy for anyone who can make it in this cutthroat, sometimes back-stabbing and corrupt industry tbh..... But you're so right! Sooo many black actors and actresses put in awesome performances year after year --- and yet, where are their Oscar noms and wins? Everyone you mentioned are great actors. I'll also add Jharrel Jerome to this list.

You know good and well there is going to be some phenomenal acting in "The Color Purple Musical" when it comes out this year (*crosses fingers*), but let's see if it gets any mention/accolades.

POC actors are definitely NOT playing on an equal playing field in Hollywood. That's just the sad truth about it... 😔

[fantomcomics]

What’s Out This Week? 6/7

Happy Pride!!!

Boys Weekend HC -  Mattie Lubchansky

Part satire, part horror, Boys Weekend explores what it's like to exist as a transfemme person in a man's world, the difficulty of maintaining friendships through transition, and the more cult-like effects of masculinity, "hustle" culture, and capitalism-all through the vibrant lens of a surreal, scary, and immensely imaginative romp. Newly-out trans artist's assistant Sammie is invited to an old friend's bachelor weekend in El Campo, a hedonistic wonderland of a city floating in the Atlantic Ocean's international waters-think Las Vegas with even fewer rules. Though they have not identified as a man for over a year, Sammie's college buddies haven't quite gotten the message-as evidenced by their formerly closest friend Adam asking them to be his "best man." Bad enough that they have to suffer through a torrent of passive-aggressive comments from the groom's pals-all met with zero pushpack from supposed "nice guy" Adam. But also, they seem to be the only one who's noticed the mysterious cult that's also staying at the hotel, and is ritually dismembering guests and demanding fealty to their bloodthirsty god.

The Comics Journal Yearbook: Best of 2022

In this supplement to The Comics Journal magazine (free for subscribers), critics/cartoonists highlight the most innovative, risky, and unapologetically artistic English-language comics work of 2022. Interviews, essays and excerpts make this an essential guide for what is happening in comics right now. Contributors include Ryan Carey, RJ Casey, Cristian Castelo, Helen Chazan, Austin English, November Garcia, Joe McCulloch, Chantal McStay, Pratap and Sophie Yanow.

Dictatorship: It’s Easier Than You Think! HC -  Sarah Kendzior, Andrea Chalupa & Kasia Babis

Do you crave the power to shape the world in your image? Can you tell lies without blinking an eye? Do you see enemies all around you? If you answered yes to all of the above, then this is the job for you! And if becoming a dictator sounds intriguing, well, you've just stumbled upon the playbook that will guide you step by step toward making your big lie a reality. Join Gaslit Nation cohosts Sarah Kendzior and Andrea Chalupa, with artist Kasia Babis, on a journey from riches to even more riches. They'll show you how to consolidate your authority, silence your critics, weaponize your citizens, and even prolong your inevitable downfall!

Do Not Say Mystery Omnibus GN Vol 1 -  Osamu Nishi

Totonou is a young man who stands out-partly for his bushy hair, partly for his finely honed abilities of observation and deduction. When Totonou is accused of murder, he puts his skills to work delving into the lives of the cops investigating him and uses his insights to find the real murderer. After clearing his name, all Totonou wants to do is return to his laidback, mundane life, but he can't help but be drawn into one mystery after another. In his own blunt but gentle way, Totonou is just trying to make sense of a chaotic world.

Fence: Redemption #1 (of 4) -  C.S. Pacat & Johanna the Mad

Return to the thrilling world of high-stakes, competitive fencing with a brand new story featuring the beloved cast of characters from the original hit series!  Are Senji and Jesse really through? The rumors around Halverton, the prestigious fencing training camp, have spread like wildfire, but it's not long before a mystery fencer arrives-one who may finally pose a threat to the #1 spot. Will Senji's unquenchable quest for rivalry be what finally makes him leave Nicholas behind?  

In Hell We Fight! #1 - John Layman & Jok

Life in hell ain't easy. Demons try to torture you for all eternity. Monsters want to eat you. There's a stunning lack of reliable indoor plumbing. And it's almost impossible to get ice cream. At least, until today, when three condemned teens and their annoying tagalong demon frenemy embark on a daring scheme to hijack a demon lord's delivery truck. What happens next will take them on an epic journey across the underworld, an infernal excursion of nonstop excitement, danger, and adventure.

Inferno Girl: Red TP Vol 1 -  Matt Groom, Erica D'Urso, & Igor Monti

Apex City is a globally recognised hub of progress and beacon of hope-until it's ripped out of our universe by an ancient cult and its army of demons. The only one who can save it is its newest resident, teen Cássia Costa, after a magical dragon bracelet rockets into her life. But the bracelet is powered by belief, and a life of hardship has left Cássia with little of that to spare. When all seems lost, can Cássia rekindle her belief in a better tomorrow to embrace a secret legacy, save her mother's life, and light the way as INFERNO GIRL RED?  

Joan Jett & The Blackhearts: I Love Rock ‘N’ Roll GN 

Comics' biggest talents come together to form an exciting all woman team of creators and bring you stories to celebrate the 40th anniversary of Joan Jett's seminal albums!

Bad Reputation and I Love Rock 'n' Roll hit audiences like an atom bomb, defining a sound that became a soundtrack that would span generations. Now, in celebration of the 40th anniversary of these seminal albums, an unparalleled team of women creators bring these songs to life as 20 stories.  

Kroma TP -  Lorenzo De Felici

The critically acclaimed prestige series from LORENZO DE FELICI (OBLIVION SONG) arrives in a new graphic novel collection for fans of ULTRAMEGA and The Many Deaths of Laila Starr.

Imprisoned in a tower within the walls of Pale City, Kroma lives her days out in darkness, believing she is the most evil thing on Earth. However, where her people see a monster, the mysterious orphan Zet sees a human. But if either of them is to survive the city's strange rituals and customs, they will have to overcome the cruel fate of Kroma...even if it means risking certain death beyond the walls in the jaws of giant lizards and enormous birds of prey.

Lore Olympus Vol 4 GN  -  Rachel Smythe

An ingenious take on the Greek Pantheon, Lore Olympus is a modern update on the story of Hades and Persephone. Follow the propulsive love story of two Greek gods, told with lavish artwork and contemporary sensibilities. This full-color edition of Smythe's original Eisner Award-winning webcomic Lore Olympus features exclusive behind-the-scenes content and brings Greek mythology into the modern age. This volume collects episodes 76-102 of the WEBTOON comic.

March Comes In Like A Lion GN Vol 1 -  Chica Umino

Rei Kiriyama is a child prodigy. Rei Kiriyama is also an orphan who lives alone in an empty apartment. Rei Kiriyama is a teen working in an adult's world. Life is complicated for Rei. He's an up-and-coming shogi (Japanese chess) player on the verge of turning pro but he has no home life-or much of a life period outside his board game-but thankfully with the help of some life-long friends he has an opportunity start all over again.

Niki De Saint Phalle: The Story Of Her Life GN -  Monica Foggia & Valeria Quattrocchi

Few artists' lives are as inspiring as that of Niki de Saint Phalle. While she started her career as a fashion model, a subsequent breakdown led to her taking up painting as therapy. Entirely self-taught, Niki spent the rest of her years devoted to art that was based in emotional truth and a feminist point of view. This graphic novel follows Niki's extraordinary career, from her early "shooting pictures," in which she fired bullets at bags of paint, to the creation of the exuberantly formed life-sized dolls she called "Nanas," which established her as an international success.  

Once Upon A Time At The End Of The World TP Vol 1 -  Jason Aaron, Alexandre Tefenkgi, Nick Dragotta & Mike Del Mundo

Love in the Wasteland" kicks off the first arc of this epic trilogy that spans a lifetime as the dark mysteries of a ruined world and their own stark differences tear at the threads holding Mezzy and Maceo together. As they endure the horrors of plastic tornadoes and frozen sludge, Maceo proves to be more than just a burden, and they make an unlikely connection. But to their peril... they might not be as alone as they thought...

Suee & The Strange White Light GN -  Ginger Ly & Molly Park

Suee and the Zero Detective Club are back and ready to unravel some mysteries! However, other than a bunch of missing cat cases, there really isn't too much to solve... until Smartie, Suee's kid-nemesis from her old school, goes missing leaving only one clue: Central City. Nemesis or not, it's up to Suee and the rest of the Zero Detective Club members to find her. But Smartie's disappearance isn't the only weird thing going on in this part of town. There's an army of workers in white uniforms installing strange devices, and all the adults have started acting bizarre and ignoring their kids. With all these odd occurrences, it's up to the Zero Detective Club of Outskirtsville to find out what's going on!

The Sickness #1 -  Jenna Cha & Lonnie Nadler

Feeling sick? The Man may be following you... 1945: Daniel Buss, an anxious teenager living in small-town America, has been experiencing strange symptoms: mood swings, increased sensitivity, and terrifying hallucinations, threatening to ruin his summer vacation before freshman year. Worse, a stalking presence watches Daniel's every move. 1955: George Brooks-war vet and tireless doctor-nears retirement from his decorated past. When a local housewife murders her entire family, her son-the sole survivor-is put into his care; George grows obsessed with uncovering what could drive an ordinary person to such brutality.  Though they live a decade apart, their fates intertwine through a horrifying illness and the haunting figure who follows wherever they go.

Tiger Tiger Book 1 GN -  Petra Erika Nordlund

In this Eisner-nominated swashbuckling tale, the young lady Ludo--a pampered Victorian noble--dreams of romance and adventure. Spurred by a desire to explore, she steals her brother's identity and sails across the world. While searching for love, adventure, and enough material to write a book about her favorite sea creatures, otherworldly mysteries await in the dark depths of the sea. Follow Finnish artist Petra Erika Nordlund's thrilling and hilarious adventure, packed with sword fights, nasty villains, and the exploration of dangerous, uncharted lands!

Turning Japanese Expanded Edition HC -  MariNaomi

The year is 1995. Fresh out of a long-term relationship, twenty-two-year-old MariNaomi finds herself amidst a flurry of major life changes. Newly immersed in the pan-Asian diaspora of San Jose, California, half-Japanese Mari searches for connections to a culture that has so far eluded her. It doesn't take long for Mari to find new love and a new job--at a hostess bar for Japanese expats--in a bid to learn the language and culture. Turning Japanese follows Mari from Northern California to Tokyo, Japan, as she tries to get by in an unfamiliar city with rudimentary language skills--all in the hopes of finally connecting with her Japanese relatives without the use of her mother as a translator.

Whatcha scooping up this week, Fantom Fam?