#gardening jobs sydney

[five-rivers]

Daedalus

@regular-dog Hello! I am your holiday truce gifter this year! I hope you enjoy this labyrinth-themed fic. Happy New Year!

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Only three years in, and it was already impossible to tell how big Amity Park was.  Normal methods of surveying didn’t work.  Physical maps were either always right or always wrong, and sometimes both at once.  Driving across the city at a constant speed didn’t help, either.  The outgoing trip and the return trip never seemed to match, and there simply weren’t enough one-way streets in Amity Park for that to be the answer to the problem.  

Asking the residents didn’t help, either.  They couldn’t even agree on how big the city they lived in was.  Some of them acted like Amity Park was the second coming of Chicago, others expressed confusion when Amity Park was referred to as anything but a small town.  

(The census data was almost worse.)

But no matter what version of Amity a particular resident believed they lived in, there were always similarities.  There was always Casper High, and its Ravens, and every student went there, and learned from Mr. Lancer, and heard the rumors about Sydney Poindexter.  There was always the Nasty Burger, and Valerie Gray working one of the many distasteful jobs that the place had to offer.  There was always Amity Park Park, confusingly named and full of even more confusing paths, whether it was a city park or a county park, or something else altogether.

There was always Fentonworks, rising tall and strange from a small, ordinary neighborhood.

There was a heaviness there, around that particular building.  A weight that drew in other things, that twisted.  It was the heart of a labyrinth of streets, of old roads and new, of forest paths and disused hiking trails.  It was the heart of Amity Park.

And it should be said that, at the heart of any labyrinth, there was a monster.  

And it should be said that, at the threshold of every labyrinth, there was a princess.

And it should be said that the one thing that every labyrinth waits for is a hero.  

.  

Samantha Manson wound golden string around her fingers, thinking.  It glowed faintly in the dark of her room, like the thinnest, purest beam of sunlight cast through morning mist and a thick canopy of leaves overhead.  

However, her eyes didn’t linger on it.  Instead, she looked out the window over her– garden– conservatory– greenhouse– private park– the place where she went to grow plants, and be among them, that may or may not have changed in nature and size while she was looking.  Which may or may not have had many natures and sizes.  

She closed her eyes.  Insight was useful, as vital as the blood in her veins and the lightning in her nerves, but it had its drawbacks.  

When she opened them again, a hedge maze stood dark and tempting beneath the light of a moon that should not be full and should not be there and had never been that big, in any case.  The lights of Amity- rising high with skyscrapers or low to the ground and scattered among farmhouses– laid beyond it.  

In her hands, the string hummed, as if it had been held taught and plucked.  A single, clear note filled the air.  

“Do you think it will work?” she asked.  

There shouldn’t have been anyone in her room, and there wasn’t.  But her nearest neighbors could be five miles from the walls of her home or five feet, and she rarely spoke to them.  The distance between friends was greater, but also infinitely less.  

Tucker looked up from his computer, which sat at his desk, in his own room, in his own house, the light from the moon shining in from the window behind him.  His glasses reflected the pale, bluish light of his computer screen.  The wheels of his desk chair rolled across the carpet of his room - so different from hers - with a squeak.  

“You’re not getting cold feet now,” he said.  It wasn’t so much a question as an exclamation.  

Sam sniffed.  “Of course not.  But I’m not the one taking the biggest risk, am I?”

There was a third room.  This one dark and starry.  The glow-in-the-dark stars stuck to every available surface were normal.  The patterns they were in were not.  Nor were the eyes that stared out from beneath star-spangled bedsheets.  Nor was the moon, gleaming from windows stationed on either side of the bed.

“I’m not sure if it actually matters if it works,” said the owner of those eyes, blinking slowly.  “I mean, if it works the way it’s supposed to work.  We’ll just go back to plan A if it doesn’t.”

“No offense, Danny, but plan A sucked,” said Tucker.  

“How am I not supposed to take offense to that?” whined Danny.  “Plan A is fine.  It’s a normal plan.  I know my city.”  The last was said with a casual but deep possessiveness.

“Plan A wasn’t even really a plan,” said Sam.  “Your plan was to just fly in and find them, never mind all the other things that are happening.”

“That’s not so different from this plan,” protested Danny.  “It’s basically the same.  It’s just the how that’s different.”

“Pretty big how, though,” said Tucker.  “And I thought you liked this plan.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” said Danny.  “I’m just saying, I’m just saying that even if it doesn’t work, we won’t be any worse off than we were at the beginning, before, you know.  The research.”  He pointed vaguely in the direction of his window.  

Somehow, Sam knew that he was, in fact, pointing at the stack of thick books sitting on her desk.  Only, instead of pointing at them across the there-not-there division between their rooms, he was pointing in their true direction, across the streets and forests of Amity Park.  

The covers of the books shouldn’t have been legible in the darkness.  Sam could read them anyway.  Greek mythology.  Sympathetic magic.  Recurrence.  Narrative causality.  Daedalus, Icarus, Theseus, Ariadne, Asterion.

Four days ago, New Athens High School had sent a bus bearing the fourteen members of their track team and their coach to a meet in Elmerton.  On the way back, the driver had made a wrong turn, knifing straight through the heart of Amity.  The bus, the driver, and the coach had come out the other side.  No one knew what had happened to the track team.  

Danny had spent three of those days looking for them.  Amity Park had spent those same three days winding itself more tightly than the ball of string sitting on Sam’s desk.  Whether it was downtown, or the forest, or the suburbs, the part of Amity New Athens’ bus had passed through was a maze.  

A labyrinth.  

They’d thrown themselves into research, then, begging for information from their allies.  Or, rather, from Danny’s allies.  Most of them, with the exception of Dora, were there for him more than for the rest of them.  Pandora was the one who had finally noticed the connections, the links with old stories, the resonance.  

There was a labyrinth.  There were sacrifices.  Other roles–

“Or, if you don’t want to leave it, you could send Tucker in,” said Danny, shrugging slightly.  “If it doesn’t work with just me.  You know.”

Sam’s fingers slipped.  

Sam was the obvious choice for the role of princess.  Danny was the obvious choice for the role of hero.  

He should have been, anyway.  

“Hence why I’m asking if you think it’ll work,” said Sam, sharply.  

“I hope it’ll work.”

Sam huffed.  “Not what I’m asking.”

“It won’t hurt to try.”

“It might,” said Sam.  “The monster dies at the end of the story.  The princess is abandoned.  Even Theseus doesn’t have a happy ending.”

“And we aren’t those characters.  It isn’t as if Tucker is going to cut my head off.”  Again, Danny waved in Tucker’s true direction, rather than across the emptiness of his room.  “We’re the ones making the decisions.  We’re just using the stories for– For narrative clout.  Or however you described it.”

“Danny…”

“It’ll be fine.  I mean,” he looked up at her with those too-bright eyes, the rest of his face black with shadows, “if you’re having second thoughts, it’s fine.  We can try something else.”

“I’m not having second thoughts.”  Sam began to unwind the string from around her fingers, wrapping it around the rest of the ball.  The maze outside her window had become a winding garden path, and the neighbors were once again nearby.  

Tucker cleared his throat.  “First thing in the morning, then?  We ride at dawn and all that?”

“Before dawn would probably be better, honestly,” said Sam.  

Danny sighed.  “I’ll set my alarm clock.”

.

It might have been neater to enter the maze in Sam’s backyard, or to start from the spiraling center that was Fentonworks, but that wasn’t where the bus had disappeared.  The bus had disappeared going through downtown Amity Park.  

Well.  Insofar as the bus had disappeared in any particular location.  And insofar as Amity Park had a downtown.  

The lack of permanence of place made discussing things like this somewhat difficult.  

Still.  At the moment, there was a downtown.  A historical shopping district, as a matter of fact.  As he walked down the sidewalk in the crisp, gray, predawn light, Danny could feel beneath his feet a hum.  The shopping district here was the mainstreet of small town Amity, even as skyscrapers loomed overhead, and the layers felt real enough for Danny to reach out and rub them between his fingers.  

(They weren’t really, but they felt like it.)

He stopped in front of an alley that smelled of cinnamon and sea salt.  Here, the layers parted, and you could slip between them, into the interstices and forbidden places of Amity Park.  

“Is this the place?” asked Tucker.  

“Yeah,” said Danny.  “I think so.”  He motioned them to the mouth of the alley, where they’d be covered by shadows and next to unnoticeable by those who were firmly in any one version of Amity Park.  “Sam?”

She teased out the end of the golden string and cast it towards Danny.  As it flew through the air, it twisted and knotted itself before falling over Danny’s head.  The loops shrunk around his neck, creating a narrow golden collar.  

Danny raised his hand to touch it and made a face.  “It’s tight,” he said.  

“Sorry,” said Sam, glaring at the ball of string as if it had betrayed her.  “I don’t–”

“It’s fine,” said Danny, waving it off.  “Just unexpected.”

“Right,” said Tucker, stepping forward.  “Your sword, Theseus.”  He handed Danny a Fenton invention that had a passing resemblance to a lightsaber.

Danny rolled his eyes and took the small cylinder.  “Thanks.  But don’t call me that.”

“Hey, that’s the story we’re trying to tell.”

“We’ll give it a tug if we run out of string,” said Sam.  

“Mm,” said Danny.  “Well.  Might have to give it more than one.  Don’t let me drag you in.”

Sam snorted.  “What, like you drag us into everything else?”

“Seriously.  Just let me go if I start pulling too hard.”

“No way,” said Tucker.  “We’ll just tie you onto some building or something.”

“I have been known to bring down buildings.”

“Well, don’t,” said Sam.  

“Wow.  No sympathy here, I see.”

“Nope,” said Sam and Tucker together.  

“Now go save the tourists,” said Sam, pushing him forward.

“They’re not really tourists,” said Danny.  But even so, he stepped across the line and into the gap.  

Into the labyrinth.  

.

The in-between spaces of Amity Park did not immediately look like they were the in-between spaces of Amity.  Danny sometimes liked to imagine that they were what Amity Park used to look like, before it became a dozen different, mutually exclusive places.  That had to be impossible, though.  There was too much, too many different things, afterimages and fantasies and illusions.  

People walked on the streets, and cars drove, but they were transparent, projections from the layers of Amity immediately bordering this space.  Sometimes, they walked through each other, not noticing at all.  

Danny still flinched when it looked like cars were about to run into one another, and let out a breath of relief when they instead seemed to phase through each other.  

So he walked.  

He walked, and as he walked, the road began to change.  He began to change.  Facades paled.  Grecian columns reached up the sides of skyscrapers and ranch homes.  Brick turned to marble.  Danny’s t-shirt and jeans slowly, gently, became a chiton and chlamys, trimmed in red.  The Fenton Saber became a sword of green-tinted bronze, strapped to a belt around his waist.  His shoes became sandals, laced up to his knees.  

It wasn’t the first time Danny had worn clothing like this.  He did visit Pandora.  But he’d never worn it in Amity Park.  It was a little embarrassing.  The ancient Greeks’ idea of underwear was… lacking, in Danny’s opinion.  But it wasn’t as if anyone here could see him.  

The act of walking here also felt strange, and Danny couldn’t understand why this was needed.  Not really.  Not the act, not the ritual.  By virtue of his nature, he could duck in and out of anywhere in Amity whenever he wanted.  Mostly.  At least, he could find places to duck in and out whenever he wanted.  

He should have been able to find the missing students without any problem.  

But he hadn’t.  

And he still wasn’t finding them.  There was no pull.  No indication of what direction he should go, what direction he could find them in.  

Danny sighed, and the sky above boiled with stars.  

He looked up, not having expected that, then shrugged and continued to walk.  Things here were strange.

There were words on the walls, now, carved into the marble alongside window displays for cell phones and stationary.  Ἀστερίων, Ἀριάδνη, Θησεύς.  He traced Ἀριάδνη with his fingers.  It sparked gold, the same color as the string around Danny’s neck.  

And then the string flexed.  Pulled.  Spooled forward, winding into a ball in front of Danny.  A short thread was thrown off of the rapidly spinning ball and settled on Danny’s head before solidifying into something heavy and cold.

(Elsewhere, the end of the string tears itself out of Sam’s hand, disappearing into the rift between.)

“Oh,” said Danny.  He bit his lip and closed his eyes, and mentally apologized to his friends for worrying them.  “Theseus was from Athens.  Ariadne wasn’t just rich, she had authority over Crete.  We had the roles wrong.”

(Not that Danny really wanted authority over Amity Park.  That… just wasn’t his thing.  He didn’t want to be in charge.  He just wanted to protect.)

But this meant…  He needed to find one of the New Athens kids and get them to be Theseus.  

He didn’t want to do that.  He was here to rescue them, not to force them to rescue themselves.  And… iIf he could find one of them, couldn’t he find the others?  Finding them was the problem he’d started with.  If he could find them, he could bring them out.  

He stumbled as the section of string wrapped around his throat tightened.  That actually hurt!

Then it loosened and Danny took a deep breath.  

Narrative weight, right.  They were already trying this story.  Changing it or aborting it halfway would have consequences.  Ones that Danny didn’t want to deal with.  

He swallowed.  He couldn’t help but remember that in the story of Theseus and the Minotaur, many people, many Athenians, had died before Theseus had finally defeated the Minotaur.  When it was Danny in the role of Theseus, that hadn’t been a concern.  He was certain he could fight any monster, any ghost in the role of the Minotaur.  

But some random kid from New Athens?  One who had probably never seen a ghost, and who had been stuck here for days?  

That… that he wasn’t at all confident about.  

Sam had been right to be wary of the risks.  It was different, when someone else was facing them.  

He rolled the ball between his hands, feeling it over.  Power thrummed between his fingers, brighter and sharper than before.  A thin stripe of gold ran down the sidewalk, twisting over on itself and turning away from the main street.  

Danny sighed, and started to follow.  

.

Danica was starting to panic.  

One moment, she’d been on the bus, falling asleep after a difficult meet despite how risky it was to fall asleep anywhere near Georgie and his so-called ‘artistic impulses.’  The next thing she knew, she was waking up on a sidewalk in some kind of nightmare city.  A nightmare city full of things that looked almost like people but were transparent and walked right through her as if she weren’t there.  

She didn’t know how long she’d been here, trying to figure out how she’d gotten here, where the bus was, where everything else was, but it felt like hours, at least.  She was starting to get hungry.  

She was starting to wonder if she’d gone crazy.  Or if this was what it was like to be dead.  And that was before the buildings started to melt into weird, semi-Greek-Revival messes.  

It was weird here, and she hated it.  She wanted to go home.  She wanted her mom.  She wanted to quit the track team and never have to deal with anything like this ever again.  

“Hello?” called a soft voice.  

She whipped around.  Up until now, this place had been eerily quiet.  

Standing just a few feet from her was a boy, one who could have stepped out of a history textbook.  He was wearing something like a cape, and a Greek-style tunic, white trimmed in red.  Tangled in his hair was a thin, golden circlet.  But the strangest thing about him was the ball of glowing golden string in his hand.  One end of it was wrapped around his neck.  

“You–!” said Danica, suddenly more furious than frightened.  “Did you bring me here?  Why?”

The boy shook his head.  “I didn’t bring you here.  Actually, I’m hoping to help you get out.  You and the rest of your teammates.”  

“They– They’re here, too?  And the coach–?”

“No, just your teammates,” said the boy.  He made a face.  “You guys kind of… Ran into a story.”

“A what?” demanded Danica, incredulous.  She’d also, incidentally, started to back away from the boy.  

“A story.  Have you heard of Theseus and the Minotaur?”

.

“What if I don't want to do this?” asked the girl, after Danny had finished explaining.  “What if I can’t do this?”

Danny stared at her, a bit baffled.  The thing about being a ghost, even half a ghost, the thing about thinking like a ghost… Sometimes it was hard to wrap his head around other perspectives.  Especially when his friends, the only people he really talked to, were just as eager to jump in and help as he was.  

He hadn't wanted to make anyone risk themselves.  He wanted to bring them to safety without that.  He also hadn't expected that anyone would just… not want to help.

“Well, I suppose… I suppose you could follow me until I found one of your classmates who could?” he said.  “Although… I’m not sure if we can do that with this story.  It might be that I have to find someone alone and then they find everyone…  In which case you’d just have to wait for them.  Speaking of which, how long has this been for you?  On the outside, it’s been a few days, but you look a little too good for that.”

“I– What?  Days?  I haven’t been here for days.”

“Not from your perspective, maybe.  Time is weird.  Even without all this…”  He waved his hand, trying to indicate ghost weirdness in general.  “... stuff, even with just the things we can look at scientifically, it’s still relative.  Right now, you’re basically in a dimensional pocket.  Pocket dimension?  Whatever.  The point is, is time running at different rates really that strange, comparatively?  At least, it made it so that you didn’t starve before me and my friends were able to figure this out.”  He raised the ball of golden string, ignoring how the movement pulled on his neck.  “Right?”

The girl gave him a ‘why are you using science-fiction terms in what is clearly a fantasy scenario’ look.  At least, that’s how Danny chose to interpret it.  

He sighed.  “What’s your name, anyway?”

“Danica,” she said, then looked angry at herself and shrugged.  “Or Dani, I guess.”

“Huh, small world,” said Danny.  “That’s my sister’s name, too.”  Not to mention his.  Maybe Theseus’s story wasn’t the only one being echoed, with a coincidence like that.  

The girl continued to stare at him, this time with a ‘why the heck are you bringing that up while I’m having a crisis’ look.  Probably.  Danny tended to make a similar expression from time to time.  Usually when the ghosts he fought started having lovers’ quarrels in the middle of a fight.  

“So,” he said, awkwardly.  “You can come with me, of course, just to… test out what will happen?”

“Oh!” said Danica, suddenly.  “Just– Just give me that!”  She held out her hands for the ball of string.  

Danny beamed, and passed it to her.  It glowed even brighter.

“Now what?” she asked, staring at it nervously.  

“Now, you need this,” Danny said, taking off the sword and holding it out to her, hilt first.  “And then you search for your friends, and when you find them…”  He pinched a length of the string between the finger and thumb of her free hand.  “You follow this back out.”

Danica was much more reluctant to take the sword than the string.  But that was fine.  One of the two was for holding things together, the other was for taking things apart.  Danny knew which was easier, and which he was more comfortable with.  

“That's it.  Remember, it's just the members of your track team, okay?  The coach and the bus driver got out.”

“Okay,” said Danica.  She took a deep, steadying breath.  “Okay.  I can do this.”

Danny nodded encouragingly.  “Yes,” he said, “definitely.”

.

Danny stepped out of the in-between, back into the alley he'd left Sam and Tucker in.  Except, it wasn't an alley anymore, but a thin dirt path between hedges.  

He was immediately tackled.  

“We thought we'd lost you!” said Sam.  Then she pulled back and examined him closely before looking pointedly behind him.  “Where're the track kids?”

Danny rubbed the back of his neck.  “Well.  In the story, Theseus is from Athens, remember?”

Sam groaned.  “They're having to do it themselves?”

“Yeah.  A girl named Danica.  Dani.  Believe it or not.”

“Wow,” said Tucker.  “Really?”

“Really.”

Danny turned to look behind him, tracing the string where it twisted away from reality and into not-space.

Tucker sighed.  “This is going to take a while, isn't it?”

.

It took Danica surprisingly little time to find her teammates.  For all the time she’d spent wandering on her own, after she’d accepted the sword and the string, she’d located everyone in what felt like an hour.  Some of them were even in groups!

The problem was, she found too many of them.  

.

“Mm,” said Danny, still worried.  “Probably.  I hope she doesn’t have to fight anything.”

.

There had been fourteen of them.  She knew there had been fourteen of them, because the coach and the driver had both done headcounts, because of the number of people they were allowed to field in each event at this particular meet, and because she remembered that someone had been sick.  But there were, including her, fifteen kids now huddled in something that aesthetically hovered in-between the Parthenon and a shopping mall.  

She couldn’t remember who had been sick.  No one could.  But everyone wanted to convince her that it wasn’t them.  

Probably because she was the one with the sword.  

.

“I think that if there was anything, it would have gone after Danny when he was searching earlier, right?” asked Sam.  

“Maybe,” said Danny.  “Unless it was scared of me.  I am pretty powerful.”

“And if Danny’s Ariadne in this, he was Ariadne at the beginning,” pointed out Tucker.  “The story was already going.  Ariadne never fought the Minotaur.”

“Astarion,” said Danny.  

“Huh?”

“That’s the Minotaur’s actual name,” said Sam.  She frowned slightly.  “He was Ariadne’s half-brother, you know.”

“Yeah,” said Danny, slowly.  “He was, wasn’t he?”

.

“Listen,” said Danica, trying to mask the shake in her voice, “I’m sorry, but– But based on everything, you aren’t who you say you are.”  

There was nothing she could do about how badly the sword was shaking.  

“I am!” said the girl, who couldn’t be there, because Eliza had taken the one place in the 100 meter, and Jaylynn did the javelin, and Lachandra had done the high jump, and no one remembered her competing at all.  “I really am, I promise!”

It was convincing, her act.  But it had to be an act, it really did.

“Dani,” said Lachandra, “is it really that important?  I mean, if we take her with us?  We just want to get out.”

“But she could eat us,” said Kevin, who was a bit of a mythology buff on top of being a track nerd.  “She could– If this is the Minotaur story–  She’ll try to kill us and then–”

“I won’t!” shouted the girl.  Her eyes– For a moment, they changed color.  Red.  Her teeth were sharp, too.

Danica gritted her teeth and swung the sword down.  

.

Danny caught her wrist, panting.  He’d followed the string back.  

“Wait,” he said, breathless.  “Wait.”

“Where–” said Danica, jerking back.  “Why–?”

Danny turned towards the ‘Minotaur.’  “Hi,” he said, trying to be as nonthreatening as possible.  “You’re one of Vlad’s aren’t you?”

Their face shimmered for a moment, and then– It was like looking into a mirror.  This wasn’t Dani - his Dani, Danielle - but a boy with red eyes.  He wore a chiton like Danny’s, but he looked starved, pale, terrified.  

He nodded.  

“There is,” said Danny, cautiously, “another story about escaping from the labyrinth.  How would you like to be Daedalus?”

.

“What was that?” hissed Danica, as they walked away from… whatever that was.  “Why are you here, now, leading us out, when you couldn’t before?”

“Story is different now,” said Danny, tightly.  “And I was leading you out before.  Just with the string.”

“What if you get lost?” asked Kevin.  

Danny grinned at him.  “I won’t.  He isn’t trying to keep you in anymore.”

“Who isn’t?” asked Danica.  

“Daedalus.  Him.  He just wanted out, I think.  Sorry for– I’m sorry about all of this,” said Danny.  “I didn’t want to get other people involved in Amity Park stuff, and I especially didn’t want to get you involved in family stuff, but…”  He shrugged, then caught sight of an out.  It looked, from this side, like a slightly darker than expected gap between stately white pillars.  “Here we go!  And I think this one is next to the police station, too, so just, you know.  Check yourselves in.”

“Just like that?” asked Danica.  

“Just like that,” said Danny.  “I will need those back, though.”  He nodded at the string and sword.  

“Right,” said Danica.  She shoved both at him.  “I can’t believe– I would have kill that– Whatever– Whoever–”  She stopped, looking very much like she wanted to cry.  

“I’m sorry,” said Danny again, softly.  “But it is over now.”

The New Athens kids walked into the gap and vanished.  

The string dissolved into golden, glittering light and then settled in his hands as a pair of equally golden wings.  Danny laughed.  

“Okay,” he said.  He turned, bouncing a little.  “I get the picture.  I think we can avoid the Icarus problem, being ghosts and all.”

#danny phantom #holiday truce #holiday truce 2023

[digenerate-trash]

False safety:

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Jordan -

Jordan has a desire to save you. When he first lays eyes on you you're so close to being lost in the darkness of this town and it's up to them to save you. 

Jordan knows that it's wrong to play favorites but you're new to the temple. And who better to show you around but his best and purest initiate? He sends you to Sydney right away.

You're oh so sweet when you tend to the church. Organizing books and helping other initiates clean the rooms. Though Jordan likes seeing you tend to the garden the most. The care you put into it. The sweat on your brow as you work. Your face flushes red as you admire your work. He's happy to see you doing everything you can to help.

When someone offers you a cup of wine he quickly intervenes. Nothing can happen to you on his watch. Nothing can ever happen to you...

Jordan finds himself offering you lodging. Make sure to prepare your meals. 

Even steering away your caretaker when he comes around looking for you. 

Jordan keeps you safe. He likes it better that way. Even when the day has been rough he talks to you. Long hours neglecting his duty to care for you and your needs.

Jordan wants to keep you pure and safe. It becomes an obsession. 

He removes you from school. He hides you away deep in the temple. The other initiates barely see you. 

Jordan even gives you a new name. He calls you "lamb" and the other temple members quickly adopt it for you as well. 

You barely see Sydney anymore... only during service or special occasions. 

Jordan of course keeps you entertained and happy. Even if you aren't allowed to leave anymore he grabs you whatever you need. 

Jordan Even gets you little gifts woven items gold jewelry trinkets and rare things. He presents them to you carefully. He loves how you examine each piece. 

Jordan shares his prayers with you. He whispers them in your ear and holds you close as he wishes for the future. His life. The temple. All good things- he could never pray for harm... 

But he also confesses things to you. Things you wish you could un-hear Jordan's worries and fears. His faith and how it shakes when he sees you. How much his love has changed him. How he fears he's wasted years worshiping the wrong God. 

Jordan only knows the temple and the love he feels for his God. 

But now that God is you.

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Charlie -

Charlie likes you pure! He does. He prefers it when you're not all over him. Because he's a closet weirdo. 

Charlie likes it when you show up on time. Neat and clean and happy. 

In class always professional. Keeps up his reputation. He helps you with your posture and keeps his distance nothing too intimate. He doesn't play favorites or make anything awkward. You trust him. 

He gets you well-paying jobs. He treats you nicely. He even replaces your dancing shoes when he finds out your old ones are improper. 

He's your coach. And your friend. 

But at night he's entirely different. He pays Bailey for shots of you. He heads to the brothel on his off days and wears a mask as he watches you. Of course, you would waste your talents here... 

He even pays for a room with you just to blindfold and fuck you ruthlessly. 

He thought that would be it. But stalking you in his off time becomes a bit of a habit. 

Charlie won't outright say he has an obsession with you. He won't even admit it's a crush. But he does end up staying longer nights at the brothel when he knows you working. ✦•····················································•✦•···················································•✦

Darryl -

Darryl wants you safe. They always wanted you safe ever since they met you. 

Darryl becomes protective and frightened for you as soon as they meet you. They cling to you like nothing else and keep your working hours long but not particularly hard.

Darryl keeps creeps away from you. Even banning them from the strip club if they go too far

The dancers consider you Darrl's little sibling. They're always beside you while you tend the bar and work together 

Darryl even slips you their tips as well. They don't want you to head to Bailey empty-handed.

Darryl never wants anything to happen to you. So they keep you so close it's a bit suffocating.

Darryl wants you to work somewhere where you won't be accosted and harassed... but then how would they keep an eye on you? ✦•····················································•✦•···················································•✦

Sam -

Sam knows. 

Sam knows it's your "cream" that keeps the bakery running but is in deep denial. 

Sam licks the bowl and knows the taste. He's no stranger to this freakish town. He's bought from Remy before he knows the taste...

But you? You're so innocent. You would never...

So Sam stays in denial. But he still eats the cream buns. He still licks the bowl he still looks over you as you try to act innocent. Face blushing your heart beating out of your chest. He'll look over the kitchen before leaving you to do your work again. 

Sam loves that you're so dedicated. You work so hard that you make sure to clean up after yourself. And you always come to work happy. 

Sam loves that for you but once you decide to let the secret out. He can't deny it anymore. He can't pretend you're just some talented baker... he has to face what you are. 

At first, it seems like he takes it well. "The secrets out" he laughs before steadily moving on. But it bothers him. 

He still keeps you around... he lets you work how you like. He doesn't want to hurt his business after all. 

Eventually, Sam get more hands-on with your baking. He wants the best product after all. He helps you get off he pushes you far beyond your limits just to get everything out of you. 

He starts calling you a cash cow as a nickname. 

It's a little mean-spirited but he says you owe him this. 

Sam thinks you owe him a lot... ✦•····················································•✦•···················································•✦

Niki -

Niki is so happy to have a new muse! And they aren't shy about it either. 

After about two months of mediocre models and no excitement, it's fun to have you around. 

You're full of life and you're beautiful. Your body is a marvel and Niki is going to capture every angle of it. 

Niki loves your posters every time they make a new one they are so eager to show it off. They just want the world to know about their little muse. 

they’ve seen creep shots of you. Images where you're passed out. Videos of you being molested or raped. 

they feel for you... but they are also horrified by the lack of artistry put into them

Niki will spend hours with you recreating those horrific photographs and videos to make them more suited to you. Niki is spending hours making sure to get every angle and detail correct 

Of course, sometimes Niki will go too far. If you're not scared enough he'll instruct other models to hurt you. Hold you down more. Or to go rougher than agreed. It's all about getting your emotions on film after all. And everyone knows authenticity shows up much better. 

They never take your complaints seriously. You just don't understand how important this is. When you see the final product you'll be grateful they pushed you. 

At the end of the day though Niki will wrap you up in silk sheets and pet you so sweetly they'll say you were such a good model you did everything right. 

And when Niki shows off their collection of you in their folders you'll see that Niki favors the ones where you're frightened or in pain. 

Niki will show off the album with stars in their eyes. Running their fingers along every photograph outlining your perfect features. 

Niki doesn't think they'll ever get bored of you

#jordan the pious #Charlie the dance coach #darryl the club owner #sam the cafe owner #niki the photographer #yan dol #yandere #tw yandere #tw stalking #tw rape #tw molestation #tw body fulids #no i will not do morgan. hes been a terrible boy.

[calipsan]

Schon! Interview

"Maybe it’s because I’m quite a shy and reserved person. I think when you’re drawn to art and expression, it’s nice to do things that are the polar opposite of yourself. It’s a real challenge. It’s to try and work out how to tap into the side of you that you don’t know. I think with acting, it’s always sort of good to be terrified of it."

"You start work at about 4 pm and you finish at 7 am. You need to make sure you try and see that sort of hour of sunlight somehow a day, so you really try and trick your body into thinking day is night and sleeping during the day."

"Then, as we get into the 30s and the 40s later on in the show, the clothes became a little bit more outlandish because Lestat was kind of having more fun I suppose. He wasn’t trying to hide as much. I think he enjoys that period a bit more. There was sort of like a vintage Hollywood glamour style that he sort of appreciated. "

"I like to do real things. I spend a lot of time in my imagination. It’s beneficial to do something real like getting out into nature or gardening. I grew up on a farm, I like to go out and do bush walks or get into nature. I’m just gardening basically in my house in Sydney. I just bought a house and I’m really getting into planting trees and plants and playing with my dog and just doing real things. Trying not to get caught up the in your head because your job is so much pretending."

#I hadn't read the article before #i love him #interview with the vampire #sam reid #lestat de lioncourt

[kjmsupremacist]

poison sweet off the vine (chan/felix)

Chan, a poor student hoping to make a little extra money while he pursues a masters in music production, lands a gig as a super rich family's pool boy. He thinks it's pretty sweet at first. He'll get to stay in a fancy house and eat fancy leftovers and all he has to do is clean their pool and help out around the house. And then he meets Felix, the bratty, sharp-tongued, skirt-wearing son of his employers. He knows he could get fired for just looking at Felix the wrong way, but Felix, even with his stormy, unpredictable moods and ignorant selfishness, is alluring and beautiful.

Part 1 | next mlist

Characters: Chan, Felix, other members of skz throughout

Genre: smut, eventual romance, angst, I cannot overstate how much of this is sex

Pairing: Chan/Felix

Warnings: alcohol, family dysfunction, mentions of homophobia, slut-shaming (both the fun kind and the not fun kind), feminization

Rating: Explicit

Length: 12.4k

Felix has got some shit going on in this one. It's not, like, super serious and we don't really get into addiction territory, but I will say it might be triggering for some people, so please just proceed with caution.

On that, we also don't really see what I would say is a realistic path of recovery or whatever. The ending is by no means meant to be read as "and then they lived happily ever after the end" but I leave a lot out because ultimately this is a horny fic within a sort of fucked up setting, and I didn't want it to turn into a pedantic exercise. So I guess this is sort of me saying the dove isn't dead, per se, but it's not doing well. I'm in no way trying to glorify mental health issues brought on by neglect and self-loathing, so please just keep that in mind.

Chan probably should’ve known what he was getting himself into. 

After months of searching for side jobs and apartments, he finally found what seemed to be a perfect solution—pool boy and general assistant around a grand estate, with room and board covered. The house is huge, with large, comfortable staff quarters. It’s a short bus ride away from the University of Sydney, where Chan will be pursuing a masters in music composition and production starting in February. And while the family who owns the place are rich and snobbish, they’re nice enough, and seemed reasonable during his phone interview.

Chan had no reason to say no. So in early December, he packed himself up and moved back to Australia from Korea, away from all his university friends and into a house of strangers. He’ll be missing the holidays with his family, but he wanted to start making money, so here he is. And up until this moment, Chan thought everything was going to be fine. 

“You’ll sleep here.” Mrs. Lee shows Chan to his room personally—a basement level bedroom with a small connecting bathroom and a sizable closet. There’s even a small desk in the corner—perfect for when Chan will stay up late studying. “You’ll use the small kitchen to make most of your meals, but we have luncheons and dinners sometimes to which all the staff are invited. Additionally, our cooks usually buy a little extra on groceries in case something goes wrong. If there are any leftovers, they of course go to our live-in staff members. So don’t worry too much over your grocery bills. For tonight, of course, I hope you’ll join the family for dinner so we can get to know you. I understand you’ll be taking classes after the break?”

“Yes ma’am,” Chan says, nodding as he tentatively drops his bags on the floor.

“If you could just send me your schedules as you get them, that would be helpful,” Mrs. Lee says. “I will try to let you know in advance if there are any important events where we need you, but for the most part I’ll leave those decisions to you. I just like to know when we can expect you to be home or away.”

“Will do,” Chan agrees. 

“Mostly, you’ll help with outdoor maintenance. We do have a gardener, but we let him know that he can feel free to ask for your help with more menial tasks.” Mrs. Lee gestures for Chan to follow her down the hall. “Here’s the staff laundry. There is also our main laundry room, where our maids take care of the family’s laundry. Since the holidays are coming up, we might be a little short-staffed over the next month or so. If our maid needs a hand with the laundry, can I ask you to assist?”

“Certainly,” Chan says.

“Perfect.” They head back up the stairs. “I believe that’s all I have for you, except to give you your key. Please use the staff entrance through the back. Do you have any questions for me?”

“Ah, yes,” Chan says. “Are there specific hours I’m expected to keep? Such as being up at a certain time?”

“Unless one of us requests your presence earlier, I don’t mind when you get up as long as your sleep schedule doesn’t inhibit you from performing your duties,” Mrs. Lee says. She rummages around in a drawer in the study. “Here.” She produces a silver key on a plain keyring, handing it to Chan. “Try not to lose it, but if you do, just tell us straight away. We know a good locksmith, so it will be a quick fix. You have all our contact information?” 

“Yes,” Chan says, attaching the key to his ID protector that also has a few of his other things on it. “Thank you.”

“I think we’re all set, then,” Mrs. Lee says, leading Chan back out into the foyer. “I think introductions will wait until dinner, as my husband doesn’t get home from work for a few hours and goodness knows where Felix is—”

“I’m here, Eomma.” Chan turns at the sound of a deep voice, and sees his undoing poised at the top of the grand staircase.

He’s the prettiest thing Chan has ever seen. His hair is dyed a pale pink, and grown out so his bangs sweep low past his ears, the longest strands just brushing his shoulders. Chan can make out freckles scattering across his face, and delicate silver jewelry dangles from his ears and neck, glinting in the light as he makes his slow way down the stairs. Most notably, though, he’s in a baby pink blouse, tucked into a short white skirt, with matching pink knee-high stockings. 

Chan’s world tilts. He knew that this family had kids, that they were around his age. But at the time, Chan had reasoned that it wouldn’t be a problem. He’d be too busy between work and eventually school to develop much of an interest, and besides, they were probably all boring, spoiled brats that Chan would become disenchanted with the instant he saw them. 

Now, he has to grapple with the fact that he was sorely mistaken. Everything is not going to be fine, because his new employer has a beautiful, skirt-wearing son, and Chan has to fight to tear his eyes back to Mrs. Lee instead of staring at Felix’s thighs when his skirt flutters with every step.

“Is this the new pool boy?” Felix asks, and Chan doesn’t miss the lofty tint in his tone. He bristles a little, but it’s hard to stay mad when he glances back and catches sight of Felix’s cute little button nose scrunched just slightly against the sunlight streaming in through the windows.

“Yes, this is Chan,” Mrs. Lee says. “Chan, this is Felix, my son. He’s just finished his first year at university and is home for break.”

“Hi, Felix,” Chan says. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Hi,” Felix replies as he reaches the bottom of the stairs. “You’re studying music at Sydney Uni, aren’t you? For your masters, right?”

“Ah, yes,” Chan says, realizing that Felix must already know all about him; he has no doubt the parents shared his resume and details with their children before agreeing to hire him. “Where are you studying?”

“UWA,” Felix replies, smiling politely. “I’m not sure what I’ll be studying yet.”

“Perth,” Chan says, nodding. “That’s quite aways.”

“Not as far as Korea,” Felix says, and Chan can’t tell what he means by that. “Besides, Perth has some of the best schools, so it’s worth it.”

Chan decides that he’s being put down, but can’t figure out how, exactly, so doesn’t bother trying to piece it out. It hardly matters, anyway; Mrs. Lee is right here, so it’s in Chan’s best interest to remain ignorant and well-mannered. “That’s true,” he says simply.

Felix looks between Chan and his mother for a moment. “I’ll see you at dinner,” he says, and walks down the hall.

Mrs. Lee watches him go with a small, fond shake of her head, then turns back to Chan. “Feel free to head back to your room, wash up, maybe take a nap,” she offers. “I’m sure you’re tired from traveling. Dinner will be at seven.”

Chan ducks his head in lieu of a proper bow. “Thank you again for everything,” he says, and makes his escape. As he weaves back through the house, Chan catches a glimpse of Felix padding out into the garden. He’s got a full bottle of wine in hand, almost as pink as his stupid little stockings.

Chan sighs. It’s going to be a long summer. His only consolation is that Felix will go back to Perth at the start of the next semester and only be back for breaks, and Chan will be able to drown in his homework in peace.

* * *

Dinner is served at the big, fancy table in the dining room just off the foyer. Chan makes his way through the maze of hallways and sees an army of staff setting the table. He counts four positions—the parents, Felix, and him, then. The daughters aren’t supposed to be back for another week, if he recalls.

Mrs. Lee is directing her staff, positioned in the threshold of the kitchen entrance, tasting dishes and sending some back. She spots Chan during a lull and steps into the dining room fully. 

“Please, take a seat.” She gestures him to the spot furthest from the head of the table. “Can I get you anything to drink?”

“Ah,” Chan says, pulling out his chair but hesitating to sit. “Just water, please. Is there anything I can do to help?”

“No, don’t worry,” she replies, ducking her head back into the kitchen. “A glass of water, please.” She pops her head back out to the dining room. “Though if Felix doesn’t appear by the time my husband arrives, I might ask you to go fetch him.” 

Chan inclines his head, though the thought of it makes him tense. He doesn’t like the idea of being alone in a room with Felix. He’s not sure if it’s fear over what Felix will say to him, or fear of his own impulses. Maybe both.

The table is set before Chan; eventually, Mrs. Lee is satisfied with her staff and takes a seat, too, to the right of the head of the table, opposite side as Chan, which means Chan’s seatmate will be Felix. Great. 

Mrs. Lee checks her watch. “I think he just got home,” she says. “Would you mind getting my son for me? We don’t want the food to get cold.”

“Sure,” Chan agrees, pushing his chair back cautiously and standing. “Any places I should check first?”

“Out in the garden, most likely,” Mrs. Lee replies. “If not there, then the pool, and if not there, then his room.”

“Got it.” Chan heads through several rooms to the back door, shoving his feet into the slippers Mrs. Lee had laid out for him there when he first arrived, and punches in the code on the alarm system so the siren doesn’t go off before opening the door. 

The air is muggy and thick and oppressive. Chan feels the moisture on his skin as soon as the door shuts behind him. He trudges across the vast second-story patio and over the bridge that looks down onto the smaller patio below, as well as the pool. No sign of Felix there. He crosses into the gardens, venturing deeper until he comes upon a clearing. It’s lined with carefully-maintained plants and a few statues. There, on the other side, sprawled on an ornate bench beneath the grand weeping willow, is Felix. He had one arm draped over his eyes, the other hanging off the bench, clutching the neck of the wine bottle, which rests somewhat precariously in the grass. 

“Ah, Felix?” Chan tries. Felix doesn’t budge. Sighing, Chan makes his way across the clearing, swatting a bug away as he nears him. There’s a nearly-red tinge to Felix’s cheeks, obscuring his freckles. He must have gotten some sun, despite the fact that this entire clearing is in shade. Then again, he’s been out all afternoon, Chan supposes. He comes to a stop a few feet away from the bench, unsure. The skirt Felix is wearing is riding up his thighs. Chan clears his throat and tries not to stare. “Felix, your father is home and your mother asked me to bring you to dinner.”

Felix raises the hand over his eyes, squinting up at Chan. There’s a blankness on his face for a few moments, and then a detached sort of recognition falls into place. “Pool Boy Chan,” he says, voice slow and syrupy. “Your welcome dinner, right. It’s seven already?”

“Seven-twenty,” Chan supplies.

Felix sighs, peeling himself up from his perch and bringing the bottle into his lap. Chan sees it’s almost completely empty, and understands the flush on Felix’s cheeks. He watches as Felix yawns, runs his eyes, and then surveys the contents of the bottle. “Ugh, it’s all warm,” he mutters, but downs it anyway before pushing himself up to his feet, now-empty bottle swinging at his side. He sways for a second but rights himself before Chan can reach out to help him. “Well?” he prompts, looking at Chan. “Are you gonna stand there, or are we gonna go to dinner?”

Chan wonders how Felix’s parents will react to the wine, but decides it’s not his place to say anything. “Right, yeah,” he says, turning and shuffling back the way he came, checking over his shoulder every now and again to make sure he hasn’t lost his charge. 

Felix picks his way through the garden with ease. How are his stockings still so perfect? How is his blouse still tucked and smooth? How is he pretty even with a sour attitude and alcohol warm in his cheeks? Chan balks at this last thought. Stop it. You cannot be thinking about how pretty your boss’s son is. On day one. Get a fucking grip, Chris. 

Felix does trip going from the grass and dirt of the garden to the concrete and tile of the bridge. Chan catches him, staying steady even when the wine bottle hits him right in the elbow. Chan makes the mistake of inhaling when Felix is pressed close. He smells like wine, certainly, but he also smells like lemons and sugar and something that makes Chan want to press his tongue to Felix’s skin. 

“Sorry,” Felix says in a tone that’s just a touch too silky for his loss of balance to have been accidental. Chan steels himself, making sure Felix is solid before simply letting go. 

“No worries,” he replies mildly. If Felix wants a reaction out of him, he’s not going to get one. “You okay?”

Felix nods, lifting the bottle a bit. “Drank most of it sitting down,” he says, offhand. “Thought I would sleep it off, but…”

Chan nods wordlessly, continuing across the bridge and patio, back to the door. He unlocks the door, sliding his shoes back off and waiting as Felix struggles a little with his. When he offers his hand, though, Felix gives him a look of disdain. 

“I’m tipsy, not catatonic,” he says, tone icy. Chan retracts his hand quickly before he can stop himself, stung. 

Felix gets rid of the empty wine bottle somewhere between the back entrance and the dining room. When they return, Mr. Lee is just settling into his chair. He looks up and, upon seeing Chan, offers his hand to shake. Chan hurries to accept. 

“Chan?” Mr. Lee asks. 

“Yes, sir,” Chan says. He doesn’t miss the slightly sharper inhale from behind him—thinly veiled amusement from Felix. He doesn’t turn his head. 

Mr. Lee also ignores this intrusion. “Mr. Lee, and no need to call me sir,” he says. “Please, sit.”

“Thank you for getting Felix,” Mrs. Lee adds, picking up a dainty bell beside her empty wine glass and ringing it once. “He’s often late, though I must say it’s not like him to… indulge so much before dinner.” There’s a sharpness under the polite tint of her tone, Chan notes as he slides into his chair and reaches for his napkin—disappointment, edges jagged with embarrassment.

“I just had a couple glasses of wine,” Felix defends. Staff members file into the room, carrying pitches, dishes, more wine. “I’m on break, Eomma. I’m relaxing.”

“Only one glass with the meal,” Mrs. Lee says. 

“Eomma,” Felix complains. 

Mrs. Lee’s eyes flick to Chan, then back to her son. “Fine. Don’t do it again.”

Felix nods. Chan files this exchange into his mind to study later. 

Wine is poured, soup is served, and dinner begins. 

“So, you’re studying music, Chan?” Mr. Lee asks.

Chan is grateful the soup is made from cold cucumbers; he swallows quickly and painlessly so he can respond. “Ah, yes, music production.”

“The arts are very important,” Mr. Lee says. “But they require a passion.”

“I believe I have that,” Chan says as politely as possible. 

“That’s good,” Mr. Lee says. “We are nothing without drive, ambition.”

Felix takes a long pull from his wine glass. 

The rest of dinner goes this way—polite drivel bounced back and forth like a casual tennis match between Chan and the Lee parents, while Felix mostly ignores all of them in favor of his meal. Each new course resets Chan’s expectations for just how horrendously rich this family is. A dish featuring caviar is followed by a truffle risotto, and then lobster. The wine is endless, so Chan keeps to sips.

He also gets the distinct impression that family mealtime is rare, a practice that is stored away in a cabinet with the nice dishes, taken down and used only when necessary. 

Chan doesn’t keep track of how much Felix is drinking, but by the time dessert comes around, the flush has crept down Felix’s neck. Still, he seems steady enough, and when he is pressed for a comment, he provides one with ease. So is that what he is? I guess every rich family has its functional alcoholic. More money, more problems. 

“Thank you for the meal,” Chan says earnestly when the staff come to clear the last of their dishes away.

Mrs. Lee offers him a smile. “Of course,” she says. “Thank you for joining us.”

“Congratulations,” Felix cuts in before Chan can formulate a reply. “She’s impressed with your table manners.”

“Felix,” Mrs. Lee says, tone cool but meaning clear. “It wasn’t a test, Chan,” she adds. “We just would provide some… instruction if you had been… less practiced. So you could be prepared in the case of a more formal event.”

“Ah,” Chan manages. 

“Well, on that note,” Mr. Lee says. “I think we’ve held Chan here long enough. You must be tired from traveling.”

“A bit,” Chan admits. It is true, but he’s mostly interested in getting away from the awkward tension at this table. 

“Go on and get some rest, then,” Mrs. Lee says. “Both of you. The staff will clean up here. We—” She gestures to her husband. “—will likely be gone when you get up and will return later in the evening. That’s typical of our schedules. Meals are whenever you’re hungry. Our kitchen isn’t fully staffed at the moment, but Chan, please help yourself to any leftovers. Maya—one of our senior employees—will be able to help you.”

“Thank you,” Chan says. Felix is already standing. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.” Chan takes this as a final dismissal, and hurries to follow Felix’s retreating footsteps down the hall.

He doesn’t catch up to him; the steps leading down to the staff quarters are closer. As he descends, he looks back and catches a glimpse of the swishing white of the skirt and the faintest whiff of sugary lemons. 

* * *

Chan collapsed into sleep as soon as he got settled in his room, exhaustion pulling him down into unconsciousness almost violently. When he wakes, the house is still and dark, the air in his room stale. There’s a damp patch directly beneath his body on the sheets from a small accumulation of sweat—he must not have moved a muscle since shutting his eyes. 

Though fatigue weighs on his limbs, his mind is decidedly awake, so Chan pushes himself up, slapping around for his phone and then groaning when the bright screen sears his eyeballs. 

Eventually, he discerns that it is 5:17 a.m. Chan’s an early riser, but not this early, so he blames it on the nap he took before dinner yesterday. In any case, it can’t be jetlag, since Korea is an hour behind Australia. Chan gets up and dressed, bumbling around his room quietly and trying to kill a little time. 

Around six, his stomach growls angrily, so he resigns himself to human interaction and opens his door, making for the kitchen. 

The light is on when he gets there, and an older woman is stacking dishes in one of the cupboards. She must have heard Chan approach, or else simply has a great sixth sense, because she turns as he enters. 

“Chan?” she asks. She’s white, unlike most of the staff, with weathered skin and crooked teeth and piercing eyes. Chan guesses she must be in her mid-fifties; her hair is just beginning to grey. 

“Ah, yes,” he says, realizing it was more a question than a greeting. 

“Maya,” the woman says, and some neural pathway manages to fire in Chan’s brain and reminds him that this must be the woman Mrs. Lee mentioned the night before. “Good to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Chan replies. 

“You hungry?” She returns to her task, sliding some plates into place. 

“Yes,” Chan says. 

“Me too.” She takes the last handful of silverware and files it into a drawer. “How about some bacon and eggs?”

“That would be amazing,” Chan says. “Can I help?”

“If you want toast, it’s in here,” Maya says, tapping a long, skinny cabinet door as she shuffled past on her way to the fridge. “Could you grab me a slice? Not toasted, though, just leave it on a plate. Do you want coffee?”

“Yes please,” Chan says, taken aback by her blunt but warm welcome, lurching into motion and crossing to the cabinet. 

Chan makes toast and Maya cooks at the stove, coffeemaker brewing to the side. “Mr. and Mrs. Lee are already gone,” Maya tells him without him even asking. “Felix will get up anywhere between seven and noon. The girls will be the same. Generally, as long as you’re polite and you don’t get… underfoot, you’ll find your time here to be quite pleasant.”

Chan registers that she’s offering him some valuable advice. “I’ll keep it in mind, thank you,” he says.

Maya looks him over out of the corner of her eye. “You seem like a nice young man, though,” she says. “I doubt you’ll have a problem.”

“Have there been… problems before?” Chan ventures. 

Maya is quiet for a moment, but eventually she responds. “Yes, we’ve had a few pool boys in the past. Of course, some simply moved away, but.. we had a few get in trouble for making passes at the girls.” She turns and Chan sees she’s done cooking—she’s holding two perfect plates of bacon and eggs. “Not just the pool boys, of course, other staff members have been fired for similar reasons. It’s usually that, or stealing.” She offers Chan one of the plates.

“Thank you,” he says. “And thank you for explaining. I am just here to earn some money while I’m in school, though, so you’re right, I doubt I’ll have a problem.” That is, unless Felix takes over my brain, he adds silently. 

The leathery skin of Maya’s cheeks wrinkles as the corners of her mouth tug up in a small smile. “Good.” She nods towards the door. “Go on, find a spot at the island. Take your toast. I’ll bring the coffee and jam.”

Chan’s just finishing up his food when Felix stumbles in, head in his hands. He’s barefaced and puffy-eyed and wrapped in a simple silk robe. It hangs loose at the chest. Chan snaps his gaze back to his plate before he can get caught looking. Felix slumps into a seat at the far end of the island.

Maya has already finished eating, and was in the kitchen cleaning up, but she comes in now with a mug of coffee and a small tablet of medicine in the other hand, tsking at him softly. 

“Thank you,” Felix grumbles quietly. “I haven’t thrown up yet, but if I do, I’ll clean it myself.”

Maya hums her approval. “Just toast for now?” 

“Yes please,” Felix says. 

Chan listens to this exchange attentively. This Felix is entirely different from the one he met yesterday. He kind of expected him to snap at Maya, to be antagonistic the way he was before, but instead he’s small and quiet and contrite. Maybe Chan misread him. Or maybe his hangover is just that awful. 

Felix downs the pill Maya brought him with a soft groan. There’s a heavy silence save for the soft scraping of Chan’s fork against his plate. And then—

“No, I don’t usually drink like that,” Felix says flatly, and Chan nearly jumps out of his skin. 

“I didn’t say you did,” he replies quietly once he recovers. 

“You were thinking it,” Felix says. “Last night. And yes, I’m usually polite to our staff. I’m spoiled, but I’m not a monster.”

The Felix Chan met yesterday had been a bit of a monster, rude and arrogant and selfish, so Chan doesn’t know if he buys that, but he just puts his utensils down and looks up at Felix, holding his gaze. “Okay,” he says.

“You’re not smarter than me, okay?” He says it with such finality. 

Chan’s not exactly sure what he means. “Uh, okay,” he agrees anyway, taking his final bite of toast and washing it down with the last of his coffee. 

Felix nods and goes back to being miserable into his palms. Chan almost feels bad for him—almost. 

He brings his dishes back to the kitchen, protesting weakly when Maya takes them. 

“Your job isn’t in here,” she says. “Go on, tend to the pool before it gets too hot.”

“Thank you,” Chan says, and slips out the front entrance so he doesn’t have to confront Felix again, heading back to his room for some sunblock and a bottle of water. 

Though it’s only a bit past seven by the time Chan makes it outside, it’s already punishingly hot. He tries to make quick work of it, skimming off dead leaves and dead bugs and other unidentifiable debris. He tests the water, tests the filters, tests the temp, and clears the pool deck of debris as well. He checks the stock of towels, water bottles, liquor and ice and mixers behind the bar on the far end of the patio. By the time the pool and deck look spotless, it’s nearing eleven and Chan is drenched in sweat. He retreats to the shade, treating himself to a bottle of water.

He doesn’t see Felix approach, but suddenly the boy is standing over him, dressed in nothing but short black swim trunks, sunglasses pushed back over his hair.

“Come float with me,” he says. “You’re gonna die of heatstroke if you don’t.”

Chan grunts, taking another swig of water. “I'm supposed to be working.”

“Well, are you?” Felix asks. “Working? The pool’s already clean. Jerry isn’t here today, so there’s no gardening to do. Your only responsibility now is keeping me company.”

Chan’s still not sure how to take this shift in attitude. “I don’t think that was in the job description.”

Felix’s eyes narrow, his eyebrows furrowing in displeasure. “Fine, sit here and melt then, I don’t care.” He turns to go; Chan finds himself wounded somehow by the sourness in his voice.

“Hey, alright, alright,” he says quickly, pushing himself up onto his feet and tugging his tank top off. “You’re right, anyway, I’m melting.”

Felix turns back, and his gaze is bright again. “Good,” he says, and slips into the deep end.

Chan joins him, and has to admit the relief of being in the cool water is almost overwhelming. He paddles out to Felix, tipping onto his back. “Feeling better?” he asks. 

“Mmhm,” Felix says. “Toast, coffee, and antiemetics work wonders.”

Chan can’t help but laugh. “Oh, that’s what Maya gave you?”

“What, did you think it was an antidepressant or something?” Felix asks. When Chan hesitates, he groans. “We’re not that stereotypical. Rich family with tortured children. No, we’re just about regular in terms of dysfunction.”

Chan isn’t sure how he’s supposed to respond to this, so he just kind of hums. 

“What’s your family like?” Felix asks. He floats into Chan; their shoulders bump and settle against each other. Neither of them move to pull away.

“Ah, I dunno, we’re pretty boring,” Chan says. “Grew up here, actually. Moved back to Korea. I have two younger siblings, a sister and a brother. Hannah’s in secondary school. Lucas is still in primary.”

“And you’re going into music,” Felix says, like he’s reviewing a file.

“Trying to, anyway,” Chan replies.

“I wish I could go into music,” Felix says. “But Abeoji says it’s not sensible. So I’m studying business and communications. He wants me to take over for him.”

Chan can’t conjure up much sympathy. No matter what Felix does, he’ll be doted on and provided for for the rest of his life. He has a path laid out before him; all he has to do is walk it. If he says he wants to walk it but is too tired, his parents would probably conjure up a gold chariot to carry him down it instead. Maybe it’s not what he wants, but it’s secure. Chan wishes he had security.

He feels tiny fingers on his bicep and looks up. Felix is ghosting a hand over the muscle, watching Chan, waiting. 

“What?” Chan asks.

“Do your parents know you’re gay?” Felix asks bluntly.

Chan blinks. “Uh, how did you know I’m gay?”

Felix gives him a look. “Please,” he says. “I already told you, you’re not smarter than me.”

“Yes, my parents know I’m gay,” Chan says, sighing. “Why?”

Is Felix moving closer? “How do they feel about knowing?” 

“They’re supportive,” Chan says uncertainly. Felix’s hand is still on his arm. His lips have gotten color back into them, pink-red and plush, Cupid’s bow all dramatic corners and enticing. Chan can smell him over the chlorine and sunscreen. Lemons and sugar and something else. He swallows, hoping Felix doesn’t see.

“Lucky you,” Felix says. “How do you feel about knowing it?”

“I’m not emotionally constipated, if that’s what you’re getting at,” Chan says. He can’t stop staring at Felix’s lips. He wants to grab his little wrist. He wants to grab both of them, wrap his arms around Felix’s waist, pin his hands behind his back, and kiss him. And kiss him. And kiss him. “I’m very comfortable with who I am.”

“Lucky you,” Felix repeats. Closer still; his eyes are half-lidded. Chan could count his freckles. He could kiss every one. “Lucky me.”

We had a few get in trouble for making passes at the girls. Felix wouldn’t be any different, Chan knows. Chan would be fired on the spot. He needs an escape, so he blurts out the first thing that pops into his head, wrenching himself from the lust-addled stupor Felix has somehow coaxed him into. “If you don’t usually drink like you did last night, then why did you? Last night?”

It works, at least; Felix pushes away. “I’m hungry,” he says instead of answering, paddling over to the ladder. “Let’s get lunch.”

Chan accepts this, hurrying to follow him.

* * *

The next week passes mostly in this way. Chan gets up early, cleans, spends the midday either lounging or helping one of the other members of the staff. Maya cooks a lot of his meals. Felix comes to bother him on occasion, demands for his time or attention. When Chan accepts, Felix is bright and sunny. His air of general superiority never goes away, but he’s fun to hang out with when he’s not actively trying to get Chan to touch him. When Chan rejects him, too busy with work or too tired to withstand the teasing, Felix’s entire disposition shifts, dour and sulky and often rude. He retreats into himself for the rest of the day, punishing Chan by punishing himself. I guess he’s just used to getting his way, Chan thinks to himself. Not a monster. Just spoiled.

Still, in the back of his mind, Chan remembers the first day. What had Chan done that day to elicit the moodier Felix? Was it something Chan had done at all, or was he simply a convenient target for Felix’s ire? He’s not sure. He’s not sure which option he dislikes more.

The girls arrive that weekend. Chan meets them briefly; Rachael, the eldest, is much like her mother, and will be out most days because she has an internship. Olivia, the youngest, is sweet and funny but spends most of her time chatting on the phone with her boarding school friends. Their parents, at least, had the foresight of putting all of them in separate wings, so there’s very little chatter about the house, even when all three are home. Felix has rooms on the fourth and highest floor of the house, and overlooks the back patio, gardens, and pool. Olivia is in a tower to the east—like, a literal, actual tower; Rachael sleeps on the third floor in the western area of the house, nearer to the elevator and overlooking the front drive. The primary suite takes up a majority of the rest of the third floor, which is about all that Chan knows. He’s only been as high as the second floor once, and it was to fetch something for one of the maids. It’s mostly guest rooms and entertaining space. 

Felix’s sisters are friendly, but they generally keep to themselves even when they are at home. Chan imagines they’re skittish around new male hires, and can’t blame him. He wants to tell them they don’t have anything to worry about, but knows it won’t do any good. Still, the idea does give him some dark amusement. Don’t worry about me, girls. It’s your brother I want.

And god, does Chan want. Felix is always in short little skirts and dresses, sometimes with stockings and other ridiculous little accessories, and is usually made up too, with sparkly eyeshadow and dark eyeliner and smudged mascara and sticky lip gloss on his pouty lips. He always ends up in Chan’s space whenever he can get away with it, coming up to him when he’s working on the pool or settling in the grass beside him in the garden or perching on a running washer while Chan works on a new load of laundry. He leans in close until Chan’s head is filled with the smell of him, taunting Chan, daring him to take.

Chan maintains his composure as best as he can over the next couple weeks, better than the first day at the pool now that he knows what he’s in for. Felix asks him about himself, and Chan answers delicately. He doesn’t pry into Felix’s personal life. He tells himself it’s because he’s being professional, or that he doesn’t want to give off the impression that he’s interested in Felix, which he fears will only make him bolder. But really, he knows it’s because he’s afraid that he’ll like what he finds, dragging him impossibly deeper into this weird psychosexual vortex, or else that he won’t like what he finds, but will nonetheless be enraptured by Felix’s terrible beauty.

He even jerks off to the thought of Felix despite his guilt, hoping it might cure him of his desire, but it does little to curb his impulses. Instead, it fills his dreams with Felix. Tortured, awake and asleep.

It’s not like Felix is helping in the slightest. If it were just in Chan’s head, he could probably bear it, stuff it away in some dark corner of his mind and soldier on. But the problem is, Felix seems to be determined to make Chan crack. He’s not even sure if Felix actually wants him, or just loves to toy with him. Either way, it’s kind of working. Chan is a man possessed.

Some days are like the first day, though. It doesn’t happen often, but Felix will disappear, and when he returns, it’s with alcohol in hand and an invisible veil over his features. He gets drunk and doesn’t speak to Chan or anybody else and stumbles off to bed. The next morning he pays the price for his indulgence, miserable but resigned. It’s almost like he’s punishing himself, but Chan doesn’t know for what. Still, by noon, he’s his regular self again, probing and selfish and dripping sweet poison that makes Chan nearly lose all sense. 

Chan does all he can to cling to his sanity. Keep your hands to yourself so you’re not tempted, he tells himself one hot morning as he pours himself a lemonade behind the bar, chores finally done. No matter what he does. You can’t control him, but you can control yourself.

And, of course, Felix appears. He’s in a little skort-bottomed bikini, baby pink with cherries smattering the surface of the fabric and heart-shaped pink sunglasses slung over the string in-between to the two cups on his chest. Chan feels a heat rise to his cheeks immediately, and fixes his gaze determinedly on Felix’s face instead. 

“Can you mix drinks?” Felix asks, hopping up onto one of the barstools. “You used to bartend, right?”

“Uh, yes,” Chan says. 

“Make me a Sex on the Beach,” Felix says, and Chan tries not to choke on his next sip of lemonade.

“D’you even know what’s in one of those, or are you just saying it because you like the name?” he asks with raised eyebrows, suppressing a cough.

“Vodka, peach schnapps, orange juice, and cranberry juice,” Felix rattles off immediately. “And sometimes those cherries or an orange slice. But I like mine with more peach schnapps and less vodka.”

Chan sighs at him. “I can’t just feed you alcohol. I don’t care if you’re old enough, I shouldn’t enable you. Your parents will kill me if you swan into dinner drunk on cocktails I made you.”

“I won’t get drunk off one cocktail,” Felix says. “Especially if you make it with less vodka and more schnapps.” When Chan hesitates, Felix wheedles, “Fine, no vodka at all. I just wanted to watch you make it, really. That’s all.”

“What?” Chan blinks at him stupidly. “Why?”

“You have nice arms,” Felix replies, like it’s simple. “I like strong guys, you know.”

“Well, I’m definitely not doing it now,” Chan mutters.

“Chan.”

“Felix.”

“Please?” Felix makes his eyes big and sad and pitiful.

“Will you lay off if I do?” Chan barters. 

“Pinky-swear,” Felix says, offering his pinky.

Chan links his reluctantly. “Okay, fine. Just one, though. No vodka, just schnapps.”

Felix keeps to his word. He doesn’t say anything else suggestive or flirty. What he does instead, Chan thinks as he lifts a bottle to measure and watches Felixfollow the line of his arm, is much worse. His eyes darken, his tongue poking out to swipe over his gloss-covered lips. He drags his gaze over Chan’s body, hiding nothing about it, about where he’s staring and why. Chan is embarrassed by the attention, of course, but mostly it all just goes straight to his dick. Felix is practically begging Chan to fuck him, and Chan wishes more than anything he didn’t have to say no.

He finishes making the drink, dropping a couple of maraschino cherries in, and even finds a pink umbrella to garnish it along with a matching straw.

“Thank you.” Felix’s voice is even deeper and huskier than usual. Chan clenches his fist around the neck of the schnapps bottle as he moves to put it away. “Ooh, this is really good. You must’ve been popular as a bartender.”

“I got good tips.” He cleans off the counter and dries his hands. “I’m, uh, gonna go in and see if Maya needs anything from me. Leave the glass in the sink when you’re done. I’ll clean it later.” He starts walking before he even gets an answer.

But Felix’s voice floats over to him on the wind, sweet poison just like the drink in his hand. “See you later, Chan.” 

Chan doesn’t go see if Maya needs anything. He heads straight to his room, locks the door behind him, and turns the shower on. He strips quickly, throwing his clothes on the floor and steps in under the cold water, chest heaving.

He comes with his forehead pressed to the cool tile, icy water pounding against his back and fist wrapped around his cock. It barely keeps the heat beneath his skin at a simmer.

When he goes back to the pool, Felix is nowhere to be found. The glass is clean and drying on the rack.

* * *

It’s on a particularly hot day that the last of Chan’s resolve melts into nothing.

Felix’s parents are both out, his father at work and his mother at some kind of social gathering; his sisters are gone, too—Rachael at her internship and Olivia at a friend’s house, and most of the staff have already taken leave for the holidays—Christmas is less than a week away. So it’s just Chan and Maya, and Felix.

Felix came down to breakfast that morning in something rather modest, actually—a light, flowy skirt that fluttered a few inches above his knees, and a plain t-shirt tucked into the waistband. Simple and demure. Chan had let it lull him to a false sense of security, thinking, it’s too hot today for mischief anyway, right?

Wrong. Very, very wrong. Chan’s checking one of the filters in the shallow end of the pool, water lapping at his thighs, when Felix pokes his head out the back door. “Chan,” he calls.

“Yes?” Chan looks up, rinsing his hands off in the pool water.

“Can you help me? The zipper on my skirt is stuck, and I can’t twist it around to the front to see what’s wrong.”

Chan knows it’s dangerous. His promise to himself from the week before echoes faintly in his head. Keep your hands to yourself so you’re not tempted. But Felix looks genuinely upset. And it’s not like there’s anyone else to help him—Maya’s probably busy with the laundry, or working on lunch since their private chef is off until Christmas Eve. 

It’s just a zipper, Chris, he tells himself. You can handle a fucking zipper. “Sure, lemme just dry off.”

“I’ll be in the bathroom,” Felix replies, disappearing inside again.

Chan grabs a towel and runs it over his legs, just so he doesn’t drip all over the floors, and then chucks it on a nearby pool chair and ducks into the cool relief of the house. He pads across the hall and knocks on the bathroom door. 

Felix opens it and Chan slips inside, trying not to stare. Felix is shirtless, wearing just his skirt and a pout. Unlike Chan, he doesn’t try to hide his staring at all; Chan considers only now that he should’ve put a shirt on before coming in, or at least kept the towel as some kind of buffer. 

Not that it would’ve done anything, he thinks wearily as he gestures for Felix to turn around so he can look at the zipper. He’s as incorrigible and fickle as they come. 

The zipper is, in fact, stuck—Chan has to wrestle with the fabric as delicately as possible, but growing up with a little sister wasn’t for nothing, and eventually he manages to free it without putting a snag in a single thread. He doesn’t unzip it all the way, just far enough that it’ll be easy for Felix to reach. He’s honestly a little bit afraid that Felix is naked under the skirt, and that interaction is the last thing he needs.

“All set,” he says, cringing at the way his voice comes out, hoarse and weak. 

He turns to leave, but one of Felix’s tiny hands curls around his wrist, pulling him up short. “Finish unzipping it for me,” he says. “It’s hard for me to reach.”

“Felix.” Chan turns back around. “You can do it yourself.”

“Why don’t you wanna do it for me?” There’s that pout again, the pretty pink lips, glossy and so inviting; the wide, pitiful eyes. Chan almost falls for it, too entranced.

“You know why.” Chan tries to gently pull away, but Felix’s grip is too strong. “Felix,” he repeats. He thinks maybe he’s pleading with him, please, have a little mercy on me.

But Chan isn’t sure Felix knows how to be merciful, at least not in the face of something he wants. “Unzip me,” Felix demands, voice soft and almost petulant. “You said you’d help.”

Just unzip him and run, then, Chan thinks, sighing and moves behind Felix again, shaking his hand until Felix lets him go. He pulls the zipper down all the way and nearly bites his tongue so he doesn’t curse out loud.

He’s cursing a lot in his head, though. Fuck, shit fuck fuck fuck shit, oh fuck. Because Felix isn’t naked under the skirt. It’s worse.

Felix shimmies his hips a little so the skirt falls to the floor. He steps out of the puddle of fabric, then bends at the waist to pick it up. Fucker, Chan thinks. “What? D’you like them?” Felix asks, throwing Chan a glance over his shoulder. “Hyung?”

What a stupid question. Chan tips his head back, forcing himself to stare at the ceiling instead of at Felix’s cute little ass wrapped in a baby blue swimsuit bottom that’s only a few square centimeters of fabric away from being an honest-to-god thong. Felix has them hiked up over his hips, leaving very little to Chan’s imagination. He wants to escape before he sees what the front looks like and abandons all of his feverish promises of goodness right here and now.

“Felix,” Chan says through gritted teeth. “I don’t think your parents would appreciate this behavior. I certainly don’t.”

“You don’t?” Felix’s voice sounds closer, but Chan doesn’t dare look down. “Are you sure about that?”

Chan is absolutely sure about that. His body, however, has other plans. He can feel himself getting hard, and he knows if he doesn’t get out now, Felix will be able to see it through his swim trunks, and he’ll be done for. 

He feels fingertips on his waist, soft and warm. “Hyung,” Felix murmurs. “Look at me.”

Chan can’t help it. He crumbles completely at the sound of Felix’s voice, low and sweet and so enticing. He brings his head back to center, eyes focusing on Felix, and his breath catches in his throat as his gaze instantly travels lower. The front of the swim bottoms barely cover him; one wrong move and Chan’s certain Felix’s dick will pop free—which, he reflects, is probably exactly what Felix wanted. He flicks his eyes back up to Felix’s face, and is met with a devious little grin.

“I’m looking,” Chan says. “What else do you want from me?”

“I think you know exactly what I want,” Felix says.

“We can’t,” Chan says. “It’s not—appropriate, you know it’s not.”

“Why, because you’re working for my parents? So what?” Felix says. His hands are still on Chan’s body, trailing up his stomach. “They don’t have to know. It’s not that big of a deal! You’re only a couple years older than me, it’s not like it’s that scandalous. I want it. Don’t you?”

Chan swallows roughly. His skin is hot where Felix is touching him, even though goosebumps have broken out over his back where the A/C is blowing. This is it. Chan’s going to ruin his life for a terrible, pretty boy, and he finds that he doesn’t even care. “I do,” he whispers. He grabs one of Felix’s hands, the one that’s trying to sneak a little too low. “I shouldn’t, but I do.”

Victory shines through on Felix’s face, his eyes dancing with mirth. “Fucking finally,” he goads.

“Shut up and come here,” Chan says, and leans in and kisses him. 

Felix squeezes Chan’s waist with his other hand, gasping into his mouth. Chan takes a step forward, and another, cupping Felix’s jaw with one hand and nearly crushing his fingers in the other, backing him up against the wall. He licks Felix’s lip gloss off his lips, his teeth, his tongue. It tastes like artificial strawberry, gooey and sickly-sweet. He drops Felix’s hand, breaking away from him for just a second so he can take his baseball cap off, so the brim doesn’t get in the way. He throws it over in the direction of Felix’s discarded clothes without looking, and surges forward to kiss Felix again. Felix moans, taking hold of one of Chan’s biceps.

“Fuck,” Chan pants, reaching down and palming Felix’s ass, groaning when Felix hums out a noise of satisfaction. “God, if your parents weren’t gonna kill me before, they’re definitely gonna kill me now.”

Felix giggles. “No, they won’t.”

“I don’t care,” Chan says, dipping his head so he can nip at the sensitive skin of Felix’s neck, kissing over the hollow of his throat. “I’ll tell them it was your fault. You were the one who kept flirting with me, kept riling me up. Always wearing your shortest skirts, always looking for an excuse to touch me.”

“I wouldn’t have, if you hadn’t looked at me like that on the day we met,” Felix shoots back, and Chan flushes in embarrassment. He should’ve been more careful, he shouldn’t have even wanted it in the first place, but—well. It’s far too late now. “You made it so easy. It was too fun, I couldn’t resist.” 

“You’re such a brat,” Chan bites out. “Don’t act like it was just for fun. You wanted me to fuck you from the start.”

“So are you going to?” Felix asks. “Fuck me?”

“Well,” Chan says. “We’re gonna need lube. And probably a condom. And we probably shouldn’t be in the bathroom, what if Maya walks by? What if your mum gets home early and comes looking for you?”

“We could go up to my room,” Felix says, but he makes no move to pull away, and neither does Chan. Instead, Felix’s fingers find the waistband of Chan’s shorts. He toys with the fabric. “But I don’t want to wait. I want to come.”

“Already?” Chan asks, like he isn’t just as worked up, like he isn’t hard and aching just centimeters from Felix’s fingertips. 

“Touch me and find out,” Felix replies, and Chan doesn’t need to be told twice. He reaches down, ghosts his palm over the bulge in Felix’s obscenely small swim bottoms. Felix whines softly in his ear, so Chan gets bolder, curling his fingers and squeezing just slightly. The noise it pulls out of Felix’s chest is poisonous and wonderful.

Chan tugs the swim bottoms down as Felix lets his fingers slip inside Chan’s pants. A string of precome stretches from the head of Felix’s cock to the fabric before snapping midair. Chan presses his thumb against the slit, looking down to watch a few more beads dribble out over the tip when he pulls away. He collects it with his index fingers, spreading it down the length of Felix’s cock before taking him in his fist. “So messy, Felix,” he murmurs.

Felix fumbles for Chan’s cock, moaning softly. “Your hands are so big,” he whimpers. His hips twitch up into Chan’s palm. “Feels good.”

Though Felix is wet, there’s still too much friction, so Chan releases him for a moment. Felix whines at the loss, but Chan shushes him, spitting into his palm, and then takes him in his fist again, letting his spit mix with the precome, making the glide easy and smooth. Felix stutters over a moan, letting his head tip forward so his forehead is resting on Chan’s chest. He runs his fingers up the length of Chan’s cock, then brings his hand back out to the waistband of Chan’s shorts and tugs them down with a frustrated noise. 

Chan moves his hand faster over Felix’s cock, a dark, nasty sort of pleasure blooming in his chest when it makes Felix tremble. He lets out another choked little moan, and Chan shushes him. “Someone could hear you, and we don’t wanna get caught, do we?”

Felix doesn’t listen. “Cha-an,” he slurs, pressing a wet kiss to Chan’s chest as he fumbles with his cock. His little fingers are a bit clumsy, but it doesn’t matter to Chan. Felix is touching him, like he’s been imagining, like he does in Chan’s dreams. He’s not entirely sure this isn’t just another dream, except that it feels so real. He can smell sugar and lemons and Felix. He speeds up his hand, moaning low when Felix nips at his skin. 

“I tried, you know,” Chan huffs softly. “You know that, right? I tried not to let this happen. I tried not to want you.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Felix says against his skin. “Didn’t work.”

“No it didn’t, did it?” Chan finds it easy to accept. “Look at me, baby.” 

Felix straightens, looking up at him. There are stars in his eyes. “What?”

Chan doesn’t reply, just kisses him again. His lips are so soft, mouth so inviting. Chan could kiss him all day, he thinks, running his tongue over the backs of Felix’s teeth. Felix rolls his hips in time with Chan’s hand, stroking Chan at the same pace, letting himself be kissed. The noises he makes against Chan’s lips only make the dark pleasure grow. Felix is ruining him, but at least the destruction is mutual. Chan’s gonna make sure he’s the best fuck Felix will ever have.

Felix pulls away to pant out, “Chan, Chan, oh fuck, so good, daddy, fuck,” and then he’s shooting hot white release onto Chan’s fingers, Chan’s arm, Chan’s stomach. Chan can’t help the low almost-growl that drags itself up his throat as Felix shakes, whimpering sweetly in Chan’s arms. 

“Good boy, baby,” Chan murmurs, head spinning from the way Felix sounded, the way he called him daddy. Coming out of any other mouth, it would’ve made Chan cringe, but somehow with Felix it makes his knees weak and his vision blur. “Made such a mess, you gonna clean it up?”

Felix doesn’t say anything, just bends over, still trembling, and presses his tongue to Chan’s abdomen, swiping at his own come until Chan is clean, even his arm and hand. He pulls off Chan’s fingers with a wet pop, blinking up at him.

“Still want me to fuck you?” Chan asks darkly, prying Felix away and tucking himself back into his pants.

“Yes,” Felix whispers, that same trained sultry look back in his eye. He recovers quickly, Chan thinks, almost exasperated.

“Get dressed, then,” Chan says. “If Maya asks, you invited me up to game.”

“Got it,” Felix says pertly, side-stepping Chan to retrieve his skirt, handing Chan his cap while he’s at it. 

Chan takes it, but doesn’t put it back on, instead doing his best to smooth his hair in the mirror, waiting while Felix tugs his t-shirt on, too.

“Zip me up?” Felix asks, and Chan is reminded exactly how he got here. It almost makes him laugh.

“Sure.” He pulls the zipper into place, bending to kiss the top of Felix’s spine when he’s done. “Ready?”

“Mm,” Felix says. “Let’s take the elevator, Maya probably won’t see us.”

He’s right. They get to the elevator without interruption and spend the ride from the basement to the fourth floor in complete silence. Chan had almost forgotten there was an elevator in the building, since most of his time was spent in the basement level or on the first floor. He’s pretty sure he’s never been in it. But it moves quickly, and soon Felix is leading them out and down a hall Chan has never stepped foot in. 

Felix’s room is like the rest of the house. It’s clean, proper, and stately. The only things that betray its inhabitant’s age are the figurines lining one of the bookshelves. Chan closes the door behind him, flicking the lock, and doesn’t have the chance to take in any more of his surroundings. Felix is on him in an instant, fingers at the waistband of his shorts again, needy and demanding. 

“C’mon,” he says, muffled by Chan’s skin. “You said you’d fuck me, so fuck me.”

Chan picks him up with ease, smiling to himself when Felix squeals his surprise, and walks them over to Felix’s bed. He deposits Felix in the sheets, hiking his shirt up and bending over him to suck a hickey into his inner thigh. 

“Chan,” Felix moans, sweet and low and perfect. “Daddy.” Chan bites, and Felix whines. “Oh, fuck, you’re so mean.” He’s breathless when he says it, delight pitching in his voice. His fingers find Chan’s hair, tangle in the curls. “Will you fuck me like that? Mean?”

Chan looks up, finds Felix’s glassy eyes. “Is that what you want, baby?” Felix nods, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth. “Want me to treat you rough? Want me to pound your cute little ass into the mattress?” He doesn’t know how the words have snuck their way into his mouth—dirty and depraved. But it doesn’t matter, because Felix rolls his eyes back in his head, nodding emphatically. 

“Please,” he whispers. “Please. It’s all I’ve wanted this whole time. ‘S why I’ve been so annoying.”

“At least you’re self-aware,” Chan mutters, crawling up the bed so he can kiss him.

Felix wraps his little legs around Chan’s waist, kissing him hungrily, trying to pull Chan closer. “Chan,” he murmurs against Chan’s lips between kisses. “Daddy, need you, please.”

“Where’s your lube, baby?” Chan asks. “Condom, too.”

Felix rolls over with a groan, yanking open the drawer of his bedside table and rummaging around inside. Chan takes the opportunity to unzip Felix’s skirt again, though he doesn’t tug it down yet. It’ll be easier when Felix is on his back. 

Felix reemerges from the drawer with lube and a condom held victorious in a tight fist. He rolls back over, lifting his hips as he hands over the goods so he can tug his skirt off. Chan helps him, dropping it on the floor off the side of the bed. Next goes Felix’s shirt, shucked easily up over his head and leaving him in just his microscopic swim bottoms. 

Chan does the only logical thing. He bends down and undoes the bows on Felix’s hips with his teeth. Felix gasps softly; it turns into a breathy moan when Chan turns his head and kisses the tip of his cock.

He kind of wants to blow Felix, but Felix asked to be fucked, and Chan has basically accepted that he’s never going to tell Felix no ever again, so he sits back on his heels and pumps out some lube. 

“Showered earlier,” Felix supplies. “I’m all clean.”

Chan wasn’t gonna ask, honestly, was just gonna go for it, but he appreciates it. He raises his eyebrows as he reaches down to spread his cheeks. “You were that confident it would work?”

Felix shakes his head. He looks so little, drowning in the crumpled duvet. Chan thinks his mouth is watering. “I was hopeful,” he says. “I’ve done it every day, hoping.”

“Jesus, baby,” Chan mutters, easing his first finger in and rubbing something patternless into the skin over Felix’s hip bone when he whimpers. “Just for me?”

“Mm,” Felix confirms. “Knew you’d come around eventually. Just wasn’t sure when.”

Chan’s got his finger in up to the last knuckle already. “You’re kinda loose, baby. Did you prep yourself already?”

“A little,” Felix admits coyly. “But you’re bigger than I thought.” A soft giggle rises up. “You’ll have to go up to four fingers for sure. I only did three of mine, and mine are tiny.” He holds up his hand to show, as if Chan hadn’t already catalogued this fact on day one, and hadn’t been obsessing over it ever since. 

“Jesus,” Chan repeats. “You do that every day, too?” 

“Not every—every day.” Felix’s breath hitches when Chan’s second knuckle slips back out and catches on his rim. “Usually just one finger, maybe two.”

It’s still incredibly hot. “Sure you were doing it for me, or do you just like having your hole played with?” Chan pushes two fingers in this time. It’s still not much of a stretch. 

Felix moans, showy and sweet. “Both,” he says. “Your fingers feel better than mine, though.” Chan is working up a slow rhythm. “You get deeper. I bet your cock will feel best.”

“Have you been thinking about it?” Chan asks, curling his fingers a little, searching around for Felix’s prostate. “Imagining my cock?”

Felix’s eyelids flutter. “It’s almost all I think about when I’m with you,” he admits, low voice impossibly lower. “Oh, fuck!” He arches up off the bed. Chan’s found it. 

“Yeah?” Chan teases, hoping his voice comes out steady so Felix doesn’t have proof of just how much this is turning him on. “Right there?” He does it again, petting over the spot, and Felix twitches weakly, letting out another incoherent moan. 

“Mm, daddy, stop, hurts,” Felix whines with absolutely no conviction in his voice.

Still, Chan avoids it for the next couple thrusts. “Can’t take it?” he goads. “But what happens when it’s my cock? I’m gonna fill you up, baby, you’re so tight, I won’t be able to avoid it.”

“I’ll fall apart,” Felix says, though not piteously. It’s more a statement of fact. “I don’t wanna fall apart yet.”

That’s fair, Chan supposes. He doesn’t respond, just fits his ring finger in alongside the first two. He meets some resistance, but Chan has done a good job so far, and Felix opens easily, so it’s not long before he’s pumping three fingers in and out of Felix like it’s nothing. 

“Ch-Chan,” Felix stutters. “Hurry up, I can take it.”

Chan kisses the inside of his knee. “No, I don’t know how you’d explain the limp to your mother.”

“She wouldn’t know it’s you I’m fucking,” Felix points out.

“Still,” Chan says. 

“She already thinks I’m a whore, it doesn’t matter,” Felix mumbles, so swift and quiet Chan almost misses it. 

“What?” He pauses mid-stroke. 

“Nothing,” Felix says. “It doesn’t matter is all. I said hurry up.”

You’re fucking him, you’re not his psychiatrist, Chan thinks to himself as he resumes fingering him. It’s not your job to try and fix his life. Even if you could, he’d hate you for it. 

They brush past the moment quickly, drowning it with the wet noises from between Felix’s legs and Felix’s sweet moans. Chan murmurs praise as he adds in his pinky—doing so good, baby, almost there, look so pretty, so patient for me—and Felix responds beautifully, fucking himself back down on Chan’s fingers and twisting in the sheets. A fine layer of sweat has broken out across his skin, making him glisten in the early afternoon light. By the time Chan finally pulls away, satisfied that he won’t tear anything when he fucks him, Felix’s cock is already hard again, red and leaking against his stomach. 

Chan rolls the condom on, spreading a little more lube over the length, watching Felix catch his breath. “Ready?”

“Chan, if you don’t fuck me right now, I’ll never forgive you,” Felix replies, and Chan laughs. He realizes it’s the first time he’s laughed in a while, the misery from keeping his desire tamped down and hidden for weeks too heavy for joy. But now it doesn’t matter anymore, and he’s laughing again. He lines himself up with Felix’s puckered entrance, pink and red and perfect. 

“Well, we can’t have that,” he says, and pushes in. 

Felix is perfect. Chan knew this, but still—it was only imagination that had guided him all this time, because Chan’s never known anyone as perfect as this. The tight heat around him makes him shake. Felix’s eyes cross first, and then roll back completely as he lets out a moan when Chan finally bottoms out. Chan tips over Felix’s body, breathing out soft moans and pressing reverent kisses to his chest and stomach. 

“So full,” Felix rasps softly. His hands are in Chan’s hair again, combing it off his forehead. “Oh, fuck, Chan, feels so good.”

“Perfect, baby, you’re perfect,” Chan manages. He doesn’t know what else there is to say. “Take me so well, it’s like we were made for each other.”

Felix refocuses his eyes. Chan watches his slow blinking. “Could just stay like this,” he says. “Till my parents get home.”

This makes Chan’s dick twitch; Felix feels it and giggles. “Thought you wanted me to fuck you,” Chan counters. “Mean.”

Felix sighs dramatically. “I want that, too.”

“There’s always tomorrow,” Chan says, drawing his hips back and pushing in again. 

“Mm, or tonight,” Felix says. “After everyone’s gone to bed. You won’t be able to fuck me hard then ‘cause we’ll have to keep quiet. You could just put it in and we could cuddle like that.”

Chan groans, imagining it, their hushed voices in the dark, hoping no one hears them, biting back moans as Chan pushes in and fills Felix up. Huddling under the covers, chest to back, Chan’s arms wrapped around Felix’s lithe body. “Fuck, baby, you’ve been thinking about this a lot, haven’t you?”

Felix nods. “I want you,” he says plaintively, like that explains it. Maybe it does, except Chan’s been wanted before, and it wasn’t like this. This is something else, something deeper, more primal. He knows because he feels it in himself, too.

“What do you want, baby?” Chan asks. He wants to know the ways Felix has been picturing him, wants to know if it’s the same as the ways he’s been picturing Felix. He thinks he’ll agree to anything Felix asks. 

“I-I,” Felix stutters, hesitant, but Chan recognizes it as fake. The words are just waiting to trip off Felix’s tongue. “I want you to fuck me and make me come over and over,” he begins. “I want it rough and fast. I wanna come so hard I almost pass out.” He’s picking up steam, talking faster. “ I want it everywhere. I want you to fuck me in the shower and bend me over my desk and push me up against the mirror.” He’s panting now, but he keeps going. “I want to ride your thigh in the pool, I want to choke on your cock when you’re eating breakfast. I’ll come find you in the garden, too, and I won’t be wearing any panties so you can finger me under my skirt.” He gives Chan a wide-eyed, innocent look when he says it, but Chan sees the clear intent behind the facade. He’s trying to rile Chan up, but he’s also dead fucking serious. “I can take it anywhere, any time, I want it like that. Doesn’t matter if I’m busy or drunk or asleep, I like it. I’ll like it if it’s you.”

“Lix,” Chan groans. “That’s so dirty.”

“Want you to take advantage of me, daddy,” Felix pleads, blinking up at him, his beautiful eyes huge. “I’ll only wear my tiniest underwear from now on, and I’ll finger myself open every morning so it’s easy. I’ll carry condoms in my bra, so you’ll know where to find them. Will you do it?”

“All of it?” Chan licks kisses up Felix’s neck. “We’re gonna get caught, baby.”

“Only when it’s safe,” Felix amends. “Can’t have them taking you away from me, who’d fuck me then?”

“Okay, only when it’s safe,” Chan agrees, because of course he wants it, too.

“Good,” Felix says. “Now fuck me harder, I wanna feel it.”

A strange sort of noise rumbles out of Chan’s chest. It’s something close to displeasure, he’s pretty sure, but he doesn’t have time to dwell on it. He pushes himself up off Felix’s body and grabs him by the backs of his knees. He pushes him down into the bed that way, folding him at the hips until Felix’s knees are almost at his ears. “So flexible, baby,” he murmurs. Felix lets out a satisfied sigh, which hiccups into a moan when Chan thrusts into him. His cock bobs in midair from the force of it, dripping precome on Felix’s chest. “That how you wanted it?” He adjusts to the new angle quickly, picking up the pace again.

Felix is breathless when he responds. “Yes, just like that, yes.”

Felix is spread so wide like this, his body curled over itself to accommodate Chan. Chan digs his fingers into the skin of Felix’s thighs, hard enough to bruise. Felix can always wear stockings to cover them up, and Chan has a feeling he’ll like having the reminder. He slams his hips forward, rough just like Felix asked, fast and ruthless. All Chan’s hours in the gym are finally paying off, and he forces down delirious laughter at the thought. 

“Look so pretty like this,” Chan grits out. “Should’ve kept your skirt on, babygirl, they always make your waist look so nice.” Felix lets out a whimper at the word babygirl, and Chan zeroes in on that immediately. “You like that? Babygirl?” Felix nods fiercely; Chan realizes tears have gathered in the corners of his eyes, his cute nose reddening. Chan leans close. It’s a little difficult, with all the body in the way, but he manages, kissing the hollow of Felix’s cheek, then trailing down to his jaw. “Why the tears?” he murmurs into Felix’s skin.

His voice vibrates in Chan’s skull. “Feels so good,” Felix replies. “Just—overwhelmed, can’t help it. Good tears, don’t fucking stop.”

Chan straightens again, satisfied that Felix is okay, so he doesn’t have to work so hard. “Okay, baby. You need me to stop, though, just say so.” He rocks his hips in deep, making the bed creak. It’s a good thing nobody’s home.

“I won’t ever tell you to stop,” Felix says, and it’s dreamy and almost vacant. He’s staring up at Chan, eyes a little unfocused. A tear rolls down his cheek, leaving a pale grey streak in his skin from his mascara. He snakes a hand between his torso and his thigh and wraps it around his cock, stroking slowly, almost absently. His eyes never leave Chan’s face, even when Chan thrusts hard and deep and makes him cry out. “D-daddy, hn, gonna make me—gonna make me come—ah, oh fuck.” The rest is unintelligible, staccato moans, and then Felix’s whole body convulses. He clenches down on Chan, making it almost impossible for him to move; his pretty face contorts into a twisted expression of bliss, and his legs tremble. He comes with a string of soft curses, so hard some of it shoots past his chest and hits his face, coating his lips and spattering across his cheeks, a few droplets even sticking in his eyelashes.

Felix releases his cock, which still dribbles out a few beads of come with Chan’s every thrust, arms going limp at his sides and head lolling back. 

“Fuck, Lix,” Chan grunts, movements shallow despite the urge to start pounding him again, kind of worried he’ll fall apart. “Sound so gorgeous when you come.”

Felix is slowly licking the come off his lips while he cleans his eyelashes with the hand he wasn’t using to touch himself, his chest heaving. “I wish,” he says softly, so faint Chan barely hears it, “that I was flexible enough to suck my own cock.”

Unbidden, the image of Felix curled tight over himself, his own cock stuffed in his mouth, hole gaping and spread, manifests in Chan’s mind. “Oh, god,” he gasps, and before he realizes it, he’s coming, too, buried deep inside Felix, knuckles white where he’s still holding his legs. 

Chan hangs his head, panting and disoriented, as he comes down. Presently, he unlocks his fingers and releases Felix’s legs; they slide down on either side of him, whispering soft against the duvet cover. He makes no move to pull out. He’s not sure he can move at all.

After a while, he looks up, and sees that Felix has managed to clean off his face. He shakes his head, groaning, and sits back on his heels, bending over Felix’s body, running his hands down his sides, and presses wordless kisses to his ribs and stomach, slow and lazy.

“Good?” Felix whispers.

Chan looks up at him. “So good,” he replies. “Better than I imagined. Not sure I should say that, since it’ll just encourage you, but it’s true.”

Felix giggles brightly. “I won’t be nearly so bad now that I know you’ll give me what I want,” he says, tipping his head to the side.

“I have a hard time believing that,” Chan replies, finally pulling out. He gingerly removes the condom and ties it off, crawling up the bed so he can reach the waste basket next to Felix’s bedside table. He grabs a tissue while he’s at it, and rolls onto his side, towards Felix. “C’mere,” he coaxes softly. “Let me clean you up.”

“Oh,” Felix says, like he’d forgotten entirely about the mess on his chest. He turns to Chan, reaching out and laying a hand on his bicep.

Chan swipes his drying come away, leaning it to kiss away the rest, tugging Felix close to him until they’re lying chest to chest, legs slotted together. He looks up. “All done,” he says softly.

Felix leans in and kisses his forehead. The gesture is oddly sweet. “You really went for it,” he says. “I was impressed. I thought you’d need more prodding.”

“You’ve been quite frustrating,” Chan points out, keeping any trace of venom out of his tone. He’s not angry about it anymore. “I guess that was all the prodding I needed.”

“Mm, I’ll keep it in mind,” Felix says.

“Please don’t,” Chan mutters, and Felix giggles again.

“Out of curiosity,” he says. “Which outfits did you like best?”

“What?”

“What do you like to see me in?” Felix asks evenly. “It’s just you around. I can dress just for you.”

“Oh,” Chan says weakly. “I like the short skirts. And the stockings. You have—” He shifts his hand lower and squeezes. “—the best thighs ever, I like when you show them off.” Felix hums, clearly pleased. “But seriously, you could wear anything, and I’d want to fuck you. So don’t worry about me.”

Felix laughs again, full-bellied and mischievous. “Oh, Chan,” he sighs. “And here I thought my Christmas break was going to be boring.”

#works #stray kids #chanlix #bang chan #felix #bang chan fanfic #bang chan fanfiction #chan fanfic #chan fanfiction #felix fanfic #felix fanfiction #lee felix fanfic #lee felix fanfiction #chan smut #bang chan smut #felix smut #stray kids chan #stray kids chan fanfic #stray kids chan fanfiction #stray kids chan smut #stray kids felix #stray kids felix fanfic #stray kids felix fanfiction #stray kids felix smut #chanlix fanfic #chanlix fanfiction #chanlix smut #chan x felix fanfic #chan x felix #chan/felix

[paulagnewart]

Sonic the Oz-Hog Act 4/12: Knux Readux!

Knuckles the Echidna Volume 2 issue 1 AU Publication Date: 14th April 1997 Price: $2.70

Spinoffs. No self-respecting media can live with them. No self-aggrandising media can live without them. And for those of us who lived through the space year that was 1997, corporations were chomping at the bit for a slice of those sweet spinoff dollarydoos.

Best place to start and witness such influence would be, arguably, the cinema. After Baz Luhrmann's blockbuster remake Romeo + Juliet spent weeks atop the box office, the majority of March was a bitter struggle between Wes Craven's thriller Scream and Cameron Crowe's football drama Jerry Maguire. A fascinating if ultimately pointless grudge match between two distinct genres. For all their efforts, neither claimed victory when by month's end, a film 20 years their senior blasted both off the map. The Star Wars Special Editions had arrived.

The promotion (and merchandise deals) was huge. A New Hope proved an instant hit, swiftly followed on 10th April by The Empire Strikes Back. Everything old was new again, and the re-hits just kept coming. Audiences pounded the pavements, eager to revisit Jurassic Park when its sequel The Lost World saw release on 29th May (only a week after its US premiere, a then-impressive feat). Superhero buffs ignored the winter freeze to watch Batman and Robin on 26th June, a film often lauded yet pulled respectable numbers and local reviews at the time.

Speaking of space, following a successful campaign through latter 1996, the Oddbodz were back. Smith's Chips and Glow Zone launched their second series of 61 collectable glow-in-the-dark cards featuring a myriad of wacky, wicked and occasionally controversial space-themed characters. If gross-out humour wasn't your speed, ripping into packs of Thins, Ruffles, Cheetos or Doritos chips instead offered adventures in a galaxy far far away with official Star Wars 3D Magic Motion and Techno Tazos.

After the toyline's initial launch in January, Beast Wars had successfully put Transformers back on the map, though kids would have to wait at least three more months to see their favourite characters in animated action. To Channel 7's credit, they at least gave the program a decent timeslot. More than can be said for Channel 9's decision that April to broadcast the all-new Star Trek: Voyager season 2 and Star Trek: Deep Space Nine season 4 at the ghastly time of 11pm weeknights.

In spite of the former losing 30 minutes off its timeslot, the rivalry between weekday morning children's entertainment continued between Agro's Cartoon Connection and Cheez TV. Both were banking on the spinoff craze, and viewers waking up 14th April could choose between the premiere of Power Rangers Zeo episode 'Oily to Bed, Oily to Rise', or the premiere of Earthworm Jim episode 'Darwin's Nightmare'. For the musically inclined, American rockers No Doubt had enjoyed 8 weeks atop the music charts with the third single on their third album, 'Don't Speak'. At least until April saw them bumped off by Aussie pop prodigy Savage Garden and their third single 'Truly Madly Deeply'.

But of all the spinoffs to arise and bedazzle locals, after three years of development and an exclusive preview party the night prior, SEGA World Sydney opened its doors at 4pm on Saturday 22nd March 1997. Touted in print and on TV as "Australia's Largest Indoor Theme Park!", it offered hours of unrivalled entertainment and programs for Sydneysiders and visitors alike. Anyone who could afford its hefty entry fee lost themselves in all the games and rides they could handle (except Mortal Kombat, which was pulled last-minute). An escape into pixilated fantasy guaranteed to forget their real-world troubles for several hours. Mundane adult things like Victoria and Western Australia's brief yet brutal summer bushfire seasons where 3 lives and some 59 homes were lost. Or how after one year into the top job, captain conservative John Howard faced international anger over comments at the United Nations General Assembly, and local anger over casual dismissing threats by extreme right-wing rival Pauline Hanson's One Nation party.

Be it stage shows, costumed cameos and all types of merchandise featuring their antics, fans of Sonic, Tails, Sally and Robotnik were in paradise. Unfortunately the same couldn't be said for a fifth member of the cast. For someone who enjoyed strong popularity and a species originating right there, SEGA World put the bare minimum effort into giving Knuckles the Echidna his own time to shine. A remarkable oversight undoubtedly leaving young fans wondering where that embattled echidna was hiding. As luck would soon have it, they needn't look far.

Nestled comfortably among the shelves between Sonic issues 45 and 46 came Knuckles: The Dark Legion. Sales had proven strong enough (or at least stronger than Tails and Sally's comics) to warrant the development of a second miniseries. Exciting in its own right, only amplified when exclusively announced through AOL in January 1997 it would evolve to a fully-fledged ongoing spinoff. No longer was trotting off to the newsagents exclusively a Friday end-of-month treat. Knuckles' arrival meant a mandatory Monday mid-month booster for us deprived of Mobian adventures.

Over the course of its 32 issue run, Knuckles the Echidna was, much like Endgame two months later, once praised as a pinnacle of Archie Sonic. Fans adored the series, giving ol' Rad Red his own unique mythos and adventures. While Sonic naffed around aimlessly in a post-Robotnik world, we saw Knuckles as the cool, 'mature' comic. He had stakes. He had drama. Quite a turnaround after the heavy criticism its writer took in late 1996 over Sally's leaked demise. Within months he was described as "a kewl writer!", or "one of the ONLY "good" and "balanced" writers Archie has", or how they're "so much better then sonic comics now its not funny." with "all the good villains and family members." Fans swarmed en mass to his WWWBoard, creating their own stories, characters and entire websites tied to the Brotherhood and Dark Legion. Not everyone agreed on the book's mission statement "Why does everybody liek it so much? All it is really is a bunch of Penders' characters running around with slight appearacnes by Chaotix and occasionally knuckles himself.", but it made a lot of other people happy. Enough for both The Dark Legion and Lost Paradise reissued as 'back catalogue' orders to selected comic book stores in late 2004.

And just like Endgame, those nostalgic memories have since dissipated when adults reflected on his tales with matured, scrutinous eyes. We grow. We learn. We reevaluate on what was once adored as adolescents, realising perhaps those good times weren't all that good. Maybe the series and characters were fine in concept but lacked competent execution. Maybe our childish expectations meant they were never good to begin with and the critics were right all along.

The youthful, creative glory days from the late-90's to mid-2000's of Knuckles of an Echidna, Kragok Comics, Echidna Gals, Dark Legion HQ, Echidnapolis, Knux Redux, Tisha-Li's Dark Legion Camp, Kensuke Aida's Julie-Su Shrine, Echidnoyle, Shattered Moonlight, Knuckles 9000, Kiri Megami's Chaotix Hideout, Darkest Mysteries, and of course True Red's mighty Knuckles Haven have long passed.

It's from learning said past our futures are forged, but do any of these characters have a future? Do they even deserve a future?

Or maybe it's just best they're all forever banished to the Twilight Zone of cultural irrelevance.

Next Time: For years I said it wouldn't be done. Yet promises, like the hearts and cheekbones of fictitious rodents, were made to be broken. Will May's hedgie rectrospect-y truly be worthy of such hate? Or have revisionists painted a far worse picture over the past two decades?

< Previous \ Index / Next >

#Sonic the Hedgehog #Archie Sonic #Sonic the Hedgehog Comics #Archie Comics #Comic Books #Ken Penders #Manny Galan #Andrew Pepoy #Jeff Powell #Karl Bollers #Justin Gabrie #Knuckles the Echidna #Echidna #Dark Legion #Australia #1997 #Musings

[convoswcourt]

I Hate New York

Lately, I have often been wondering to myself: If I feel so out of place in New York City, why did I choose to reincarnate here? (Pisces moon 4th house here lol)

These inner thoughts started peaking especially after I had a conversation with a client of mine who lives in Sydney who used to live in Cali. He told me how he was outgrowing Cali and decided to move across the globe to Australia. He loves it there and mentioned that Australians value work life balance. He noticed there was less instances of work politics at his jobs compared to working in the states. People actually care about the quality of their lifestyles over there.

Being a New Yorker all my life - those things all sound like a DREAM. Every one in New York City grinds. HARD. Work life balance was never a thing for New Yorkers up until covid forced us to quarantine and wfh.

Even then - the pandemic happened years ago and many of us have been forced back into commuting to work so corporate companies can put their commercial spaces to use.

While people find New York City inspiring and love it here - I find it quite an overwhelming and draining place to live in. When I was little, I thought I wanted to live in a high rise condo on the Upper East Side, but now that I've grown up I'm realizing I actually want to live in a spacious, bright and airy house. I want my own garden where I can plant my own fruits, veggies and herbs. I desire a slow uncomplicated life.

My soul feels congested here in New York City. There's too many impurities here both literally and figuratively that are clouding up my mind, body and soul. These streets don't resonate with me and the energy of this city is at odds with mine.

So naturally as an astrologer, I knew there was a reason for all this. I looked to astrocartography for insight and alas, New York City for me is located on a mars/pluto line. The energies and experiences I go through living in NYC are scorpionic in nature which is great for my overall personal transformation and growth, but it would be in my best interest to look for another location that aligns more with my north node. Don't get me wrong, for another individual with different placements than mine, NYC might be the ideal home base. However, for me, the goal is to create more balance and grounding instead of constantly being in the state of change.

Are you currently desiring something different than your current reality? You can learn about your own astrological essence and blueprint with me to tap into your ultimate potential for joy, love, career and money. Email: [email protected] for astrotherapy appointment availability.

#astrocartography #astrology #natal chart #natal chart reading #spirituality #mental health #homes #moving #moving homes #moving locations #changing locations #new york city #moon sign #astrology houses #mars #pluto #scorpio

[brokenanxiety]

also to add to the hairstylist one- all the girls (sydney, alexa, grace, emily) all asking u to do their hair and color and so often when mat comes into ur shared apartment he just sees u hard at work giving them haircuts and color and he’s like when will this ever end as a joke but he secretly loves how hard u work and how good u are at ur job. and he jokes that u make more money then him.

also whenever liana his sister comes she’s always asking u to do her hair and even his mom ugh my dream

mat is def the bf to be like i saw this space for rent in garden city and i think it would be so cute if you opened up your own place there, instead of working from our kitchen and out of someone else's studio

mat loves a woman passionate about her career

every year, you would be asked to do the teams hair for their annual media day shoot

in the off season, mat would def let you experiment on his hair

"babe what is that? what's that smell?"

mom and liana are always asking you to do their hair because you're amazing

#mat barzal #answered #rebecca's neurons are firing

[inkyquince]

BLOOD OF THE CONVENANT IS THICKER THAN THE WATER OF THE WOMB Jordan x PC x Sydney

My first entry for the Omega Hunt Collab!

content warning. Dubcon, Coercion, Brat! Corrupt Sydney, talk about past noncon turned dubcon turned con, knotting, breeding, threesome, GUILT, mentions of violence. 3.7k words

Growing up, it had always been hard to get a good look at the moon. Bailey had taken their job as the jailer very seriously so it had always been hard to see it behind tinted windows and bars on the outside. It had always looked vague, foggy, as if you were trying to get a glimpse of a shiny 10 pence that had fallen down a sewer grate. You always firmly told yourself that the first night of freedom you got, you were going to make sure to take in its beauty.

The moon looming, bright and luminous, shedding a clear light on the forest was a stab in the back. You had waited so long for this, to be bathed in the brilliant silver night, yet the moon's very light made every single one of your friends, crying and afraid visible. It was like it was going out of its way to highlight the lot of you.

You could still hear the faint sounds of whimpers and footsteps, coming from every direction. The omegan stereotype of being brainless little things disgusted you but now? You felt vitriolic anger at the fact that the same people you grew up with, hardier than anyone expected were being far too obvious with their location. Hell, you stumbled over your old room mate, curled up and crying as if just waiting for someone to come and help.

Not that you were better off.

Dread coated your skin, making the cold night even cooler. You knew that your heat pheromones' were making you stink, leaving a clear trail to you but still you stumbled onwards, just wanting to put as much distance between you and the alphas emerging onto the hunting grounds.

You had been an early bloomer for an omega and your first heat was totally unexpected, to the point Bailey had another omega drag you to the top floor, as far away from his office as possible as to not stink the place up anywhere near him. Usually, your heat had you overheating, shaking and whining. At one point, to your mutual disgust, you tried to present yourself to Bailey when he came to force suppressants down your throat. He did take a beat longer to look away from your drooling hole but that was typical alphas for you.

But this time?

Instead of struggling to move like so many of your peers, overheating to point you'd have to peel your clothes off, you had never felt colder in your life. You could feel the heat prickling just below your skin, but the feeling of being watched, being tracked had goosebumps rise on your skin.

And despite the moon overlooking all, in this damned town, silver giving way to a deep red, you had an unnerving feeling that it's gaze wasn't the only one on you.

A new scent permeated the area, almost immediately soothing you against your better judgment. It was warm, like the smell of a cooked meal coming from the kitchen. Well looked after books, that incense that would be carried over by the breeze from the Temple. A claim.

What was a mated Omega doing here?

The sound of soft footsteps creeping closer should have kicked back into high alert but foolishly, you relaxed, comfort washing over you with ease.

A blond head of hair peeked out from behind a bush, followed by a pair of squinting eyes, as if they were struggling to keep you in focus. It took you a moment before recognizing him.

Sydney, one of the older boys who was taken away last year to participate in the hunt. He stood out from the rest, his father almost always coming to visit him while being kept under Bailey's thumb. The others always looked on, forlorn as Sirris and Sydney spent time in the garden or in the living room, the friendly beta being one of the few parents to keep ties with their child. You also... Heard some rumors that Sydney had a soft spot for you, the kind heavily dissuaded in omegas.

But here he was. Had he hidden out in the woods this long? Unlikely, he looked well taken care of. Hair clean with nary a speck of dirt on him. In fact... He was wearing new clothes, not the hand-me-downs from long-gone omegas.

Sydney didn't seem perturbed by your staring. No, he was too wrapped up in his own joy.

"Thought I caught your scent!" The lanky lad flailed a bit to scramble out of his hiding place, trotting over with the same look of open warmth in his eyes, as if no time had passed at all.

"You thought... My... Sydney, what are you doing here?" Your thoughts tripped over each other, your circumstances and surroundings melting away, just like it used to when you two lived together.

Sydney's smile faltered a bit but he brushed it off, instead grabbing your hands tightly, thumbs running over your knuckles. He gave you a once over, eyes focusing on your neck, both sides before slowly dropping to your bare legs, searching for something that wasn't there.

"Just in time." Sydney finally ceased his analysis and gave you a smile, grip not lessening. "I was worried that someone else would get you."

You finally noticed his scent was marred with something else, not just the way it had been tinged by a mating bite. Sweet, syrupy. A scent you weren't familiar with, your old home not being an ideal place for omegas to seek out... That.

He was aroused. You could smell the slick. Sydney was aroused and was not letting go of you.

Your reality came crashing down. All at once, the fog lifted, and you felt the cold again, the heat purring underneath your skin, the sweat cascading down your back. The pine needles digging into your feet.

"No, no, don't be scared." Sydney stepped even closer, right into your space. "It's okay, I want to get you to safety, please, please trust me-"

"Trust us, beloved." Both you and Sydney were startled by the sudden emergence of someone else, slightly out of breath.

Sydney's shift in scent alerted you that they were slightly sour at this intrusion between the two of you before they recovered, lowering your hands but not letting go. Worst of all, you recognized the new scent. Even from half the clearing away, you could pick up the joined scent between them.

They were who claimed Sydney last year.

He was also not what you expected of an alpha.

Covered fully by conservatory clothes, the only skin shown were the glimpses of his fingers tips and everything above the collarbone. His blond hair held back neatly, with intensely clear blue eyes, rivaling the leering moon in their brightness.

His gaze flicked between the two of you before settling on Sydney, and he drew closer.

"Beloved, you ran off. I almost lost you." His smile was lovingly, soft, and he trailed his hand over Sydney's arm.

Sydney just gave a hum, not breaking eye contact with you. With a sigh, his alpha turned towards you, his smile not changing from the loving one for his mate.

"Do not be afraid. We came to save you from a terrible fate at the hands of these people. My name is Jordan."

You could smell the Temple on him. You could smell Sydney.

Despite not getting any response from you, he nodded, as if to himself and glanced around.

"It would be better if we abscond. We wouldn't want any of those brutes chasing you down." Jordan moved to put his arm over your shoulder but Sydney blocked him off, his own arm around you in seconds. Jordan's eyes flashed with something before looking back over where they both appeared from.

Sydney practically dragged you along. Now that he was closer, you could properly scent him. He stunk of arousal. It was weird, Sydney always was devout, and whenever the topic of what the omegas were held for popped up, he flushed and ran to his room. During his heats, the usual bag of toys Bailey leaves outside the dorm doors were totally neglected, left against the side of the door. Sydney always tried to pretend his heat wasn't happening, swallowing down his suppressants and trotting back downstairs, faux cheery smile on and stinking of slick. It got so bad towards the end, Bailey backhanded Sydney out of anger, so hard his glasses went flying and one lens was badly cracked.

Speaking... Of...

"Syd." You whispered, needing to put more and more of your weight on him, your knees weak as your group walked. "Where's your glasses?"

You barely noticed Jordan's shoulders tensing up as he overheard you. Sydney, however, gave a snort.

"Oh yeah. Haven't worn those in a while. Isn't that right, Jordan?"

The priest didn't respond, just hunching his shoulders.

You knew he was waiting for you to ask further, but there was a sour scent creeping into the air. Guilt. Regret... Desire. Sydney seemed blind to your discomfort, pressing you closer against his side as the scent of slick grew headier.

"They were already kinda broken but during the hunt? Stood no chance."

"Sydney, please." Jordan begged, suddenly looking over his shoulder, in clear distress.

"Jordan's way rougher than you would expect, right? My glasses were beyond crushed, all cause of the way he tackled me." He carried on, as if he didn't hear his alpha.

"Sydney, not now." Jordan's voice was tinged with panic, and not just from his mate's re-telling. "Not a good time, o-or place."

"Wait, let me show you."

You were roughly shoved to the ground, taken by surprise so suddenly you couldn't even protect yourself from your harsh impact against the cold forest floor.

"Sydney!" Jordan miserably tried to interject but Sydney was already getting on his knees.

"So, he did that, shoved me, but then he grabbed me like this." The omega grabbed your ankles and yanked you closer to him, pulling you up enough that your ass hit his crotch. You could feel his omegan cock, hard and twitching underneath his clothes.

He started to grind against your ass, humping as if he was in a frenzy. The heady scent of arousal grew stronger, but this time not from Sydney. Jordan stood, stock still, a bit away, eyes transfixed on his omega's movements. Worse, you could see his robes start to tent, erection pressing against the fabric.

"Started to do this too," Sydney panted shallowly above you, letting go of one of your ankles to steady himself by your face. "Really tried to hump me like a dog."

Your limbs felt too heavy, head felt like it was filled with water. All you could focus on was the way Sydney was touching you, making sure to nudge his erect cock against the growing wet patch on your clothes.

You didn't expect him to smell so good. From excessive lessons about Omegas, Betas and Alphas, it was drilled into you that if an alpha took two omegas, they were programmed by nature to form a nest together, but nothing else. At best, they were essentially room mates who were dating each other's alpha. Omegas with omegas was not seen as anything serious, so why was your entire body reacting to Sydney's touches like this?

You felt slick starting to seep from your hole, reacting in tandem with Sydney's arousal, that only now you realized was for you. Sydney wasn't horny from his alpha, or when surrounded by the pheromones' of the hunt. He had seen you and wanted to fuck you.

Jordan was uneasily shifting a little way off, eyes fixed on Sydney's hands tugging open your clothes, as he grinded against you with gusto.

"It felt so good." Sydney panted above you, leaning over so your lips were just barely brushing against each other. "And at first I was glad he wasn't doing anything else, but before I knew it he had me on all fours."

Sydney pulled away, once again manhandling you into position, shucking his trousers down to let his cock spring free. He laid himself over you, cock bumping against your thighs as his hot breath hit your ear. The ground was uncomfortable against your palm, even worse on your knees, but all you could feel was your friend's drooling dick, trying to press into you.

"Not as a big as him." He gasped, cockhead snagging on your hole for a moment. "But wanna show you what a brute he was."

"Sydney!" Jordan sounded upset, but there was something else tinging his tone. Lust.

"He couldn't get off of me, not until the sun came up."

You shivered at the thought, cutting off your own whine with a gasp as Sydney's cock finally caught your hole and he shoved the entire length of his erection into you.

No, Sydney's cock wasn't an alphan. But it was the only cock you ever had inside of you, and it was already much bigger than the toys you had been forced to use. It was also leaking, like Omegan cocks usually did. Within seconds you were feeling full, and dripping with Sydney's slick, even with just his cockhead inside of you.

He started to rotate his hips, grinding the head instead of thrusting with it, wet, sloppy noises filling the air as he let copious amount of slick drip out of you. You felt the way it stuck to you, his fluids somehow different to yours. Of course, mated omegas' slick morphed to entice their alphas but you were just as affected, dizzy and overcome with the need to be used.

"Beloved..." Jordan murmured, voice much nearer despite its soft tone.

You didn't notice he had come closer, now kneeling in the grass beside the two of you. His fingers curled into his robes, forming fists with his knuckles strained and white.

"You said... To bring them to safety." His voice wasn't smooth anymore, shaking.

"But don't you want them, Jordie?" Sydney's tone wasn't as sugary as it was with you. He... He sounded authoritarian, as if he was the one ruling over his alpha, despite not being the one with the knot. "I want them."

Jordan let out a hiss of breath. Sydney suddenly shoved your face down into the dirt, twigs sticking against your cheek. You felt hand rest against the back of your neck, putting a slight bit of weight on you as they loom above you, almost nose to nose with Jordan.

"I want them. The same way you wanted me. Same way you want me right now. I don't care how, but you'll want them too." Sydney drifted his lips close to Jordan's and from your position, you could smell the precum oozing already from the Priest.

"We... Not allowed more than one omega... It's wrong, you aren't... You're people, Sydney, only brutes collect omegas." Jordan's eyes flickered shut as the omega brushed his lips against the edge of his mouth.

"You're a brute like the rest of them, Jordie. If you don't want my beloved for yourself, want them for me. If you don't want two omegas in your bed, then let me have them in mine, for my sake. You can come home and smell your sheets, where two omegas fucked all day." Sydney finally pressed an open mouthed kiss to his bottom lip, tongue flicking against his skin. "You owe me, beloved."

Sydney never swore before. Then again, Sydney wasn't mated before. His cock was slowly but surely inching deeper inside of you, the squelch of your slick drowning out their combined heavy breaths.

There was a beat of silence. Then:

"Fine. Get out of them, Syd." Jordan's scent shifted harshly, no longer welcoming and soft.

The loud whine you keened when Sydney pulled out of you was obscene, and almost had you deaf to Jordan's breath getting all shaky.

"Fine. Fine." He seemed to be muttering to himself, pulling his robes off of his body, finally revealing his heavy cock, the tip swaying against his belly. It looked painful, struggling to stand fully erect from how hefty it was. "Fine." He repeated. "For my atonement, I must."

Sydney was either deaf to his alpha's plagued thoughts, or he didn't care, clambering around you to lie down in front of you, chin resting on his palm like a schoolgirl with a crush. He rested on his hip, just so his other hand could slowly play with his cock, tugging as it wept excessive amounts of slick.

Jordan's hands shook as they rested on your hips, lifting them just enough to nudge his shaft against it, pulling back until his cock finally rested against your hole. You gave a loud whimper, the sheer girth making your insides knot up, either in excitement or fear, you didn't know.

"You have to relax... B-Beloved. Or it will hurt." Jordan tried to sooth you, one hand shyly reaching up to stroke the nape of your neck, thumb skimming lightly over your scent gland. He paused over it, pressing down on it gently before Sydney made a noise of annoyance and Jordan dropped his hand. You whined at the loss of his touch but Sydney just shushed you, scooching a bit closer to nose at your neck himself.

The featherlight kisses he pressed to your skin had you dazed, until you felt Jordan slowly sink himself into you, practically whimpering as he felt you around his cock.

Thank God Sydney had mounted you before hand, Jordan's sheer girth was already uncomfortable, stretching you out more than you'd ever had been in your life. It seemed he was having trouble too, gasping and whining in tandem with you. The only one not making such noises was Sydney, was who whispering encouragements, pulling on his cock with more gusto. It should hurt, the way his cock was prising your walls

Now, to bite you, to mark you, to sink his teeth into your mating gland.

Yes, he did know that it wouldn't take effect, not like Jordan's bite would be, but he wanted the symbolism, he wanted his teeth in your skin, as you moaned and squirmed and came repeatedly over his alpha's cock.

Sydney gently cupped your chin, tilting your head so he had unfettered access to his goal. It was finally happening. Your whines in his ear, gasping and drooling. He was suddenly filled with such adoration, he couldn't take it.

He ignored Jordan's soft noise of bewilderment as he sunk his omegan teeth, somewhat blunt, into your mating bond, biting down hard enough to leave mark. It wouldn't take, not like an alphan bite, so he was going to be spending the rest of his life biting down over and over again, deepening the scar until his mark looked as vicious as Jordan's, on his neck and later, on your neck.

His tongue lazily lapped over the mark, and he let his mind set into a pleasant haze, tasting the small amount of scent oil the mark gave.

Now, this is when his heaven could start. His memories felt bright, his heart beating fast. Just as euphoric as when Jordan did it, but Jordan was the wrong person. Life was unfair, he should have been an alpha, even a beta for you. But this way, commanding Jordan and twisting his guilt for what he did against him.

Jordan did feel bad. He showed him that every day, his apologies and the way he tried to atone, atone for failing not only Sydney, but Sirris. A man of the cloth should be able to retreat a young omega, but apparently he couldn't. And Sydney felt his first ever vindictive streak when he saw the heartbroken look on Sirris' face when he realized that Jordan wasn't safe from his own instincts, and Sydney was no longer his to look after.

To be fair to Jordan, he was good to Sydney. He knew he had accidentally corrupted the boy, the moment his cock sunk into his mate to be, he would be different. Which led to now. Not only would he wake up with Sydney mouthing at his cock, hungry again, but he... He had walked in on Sydney playing with himself, touching himself while searching up Omega x Omega porn, leaving dozens of tabs open of cute little things whining and humping each other. If he hadn't been marked, Sydney would have simply thought his attachment to you was one of Omegan connection, but living free meant he finally figured out that he didn't want to just be friends with you.

So, Sydney pressed sloppy kisses to your mouth, happily reciprocated with your tongue in his mouth. Mewling and moaning as Jordan was loosing himself again, pumping load after load into you, spilling out on the forest floor, the three of you blind to omegas running past, Alphas taking a moment to sneer before continuing the hunt, to Betas pausing and squeezing their own knots momentarily before resuming their hunt for their employers.

Jordan's rut would still momentarily, and he'd slump against a tree, panting and naked. He couldn't help but watch as Sydney took his place, sinking his knotless cock into you, letting cum coat both of your thighs. You two held each other as you rutted against each other, kissing and mouthing and Jordan... For the first time since he had presented as an alpha, since he marked Sydney, Jordan couldn't see the sin in this love making. He murmured a short prayer of thanks as his cock stiffened back up and he crawled over, ready to push into Sydney, ready to bite down on your neck with your shared lover squirming between you.

Masterlist

AO3

Kofi

#dol collab #degrees of lewdity collab #omega hunt collab #sydney the fallen #jordan the pious #dol #nsft #quincewrites #degrees of lewdity

[folansstuff]

ATTICUS MOORE INTRODUCTION

Name: Atticus Moore  Aliases: Spin, Vortex (briefly) Gender: Male Age: 28 - 30

Background

Born to two social workers in Sydney, Australia; Atticus led a relatively normal life from birth to age 13, where the death of his father caused an emotional breakdown that triggered his X-Gene while at school. This incident caught the attention of Xavier’s School for Gifted Youth, who sent the New Mutants (then consisting of Mirage, Wolfsbane, Magik, Cannonball, Karma and Sunspot) to find him and bring him to America for training and education.  Atticus remained with the team for 5 years, before an incident related to the Avengers caused the death of his mother. The emotional toll of this, of being a teen superhero, the death of Illyana and a souring relationship with the X-Men had started to wear on him, and he left the team and school to strike out on his own. He remained separate from the X-Men for several years, getting a degree in education and working with mutant outreach centers in New York, only rejoining the team briefly after a depowered Dani contacted him for help and telling him Illyana was alive again. During this time he came into contact with a ‘living dimension’ named ‘The Garden’, which formed a strange symbiotic relationship with Atticus and his powers, though he refused to explore them further at the time. He was unheard from until he was offered a job with Avengers Academy under the recommendation of Wolverine as an Mutant teacher unaffiliated with the X-Men. This caused tension with his allies in the X-Men, since he was purposefully avoiding Utopia out of mistrust for leadership. This position lasted until the Phoenix Five incident, where Atticus attempted to speak sense into Illyana and Piotr, but was slashed across the chest and knocked unconscious by the siblings. He joined up with Cyclop’s revolutionary X-Men in order to support Illyana and the students they were bringing in, but was killed in an incident related to Mystique and S.H.I.E.L.D. He remained deceased for several years, including through the Terregien Mist incident and the founding of Krakoa. In Krakoa’s second year, Atticus was found on one of the island’s beaches, covered in unknown plant life and dirt. Thanks to the intervention of Reed Richards and Stephen Strange, alongside Illyana and Dani, they discovered ‘The Garden’, as a living dimension, had decided to steal Atticus’ body and had functionally regrown him within itself over 5 years, cementing a physical and mental connection to the dimension and reviving Atticus outside of Krakoa’s resurrection protocols. As of current, he is one of the teachers at the Akedeimos Institute and has rejoined the New Mutants with his friends.

Personality

Atticus has a warm and friendly disposition, although he has a long-running anxious streak that has been developed from years of superhero and mutant related experiences. He’s highly protective of his friends and students, especially since he’s gotten used to worrying about their well-being. While he does try his best, he is prone to cowardice and impulsive and poorly thought out actions, which so far have luckily only really affected him. He also has a stubborn streak, especially when it comes to the safety of his friends and family, which can cause issues with other members of Mutantkind. Post-revival, Atticus has mellowed out somewhat, settling into a “slightly nerdy English teacher” vibe as he moves into his thirties, which he attributes to being able to live on an relatively safe island with his family.  He prefers academic and creative endeavors, and he is prone to picking up and abandoning new projects as they catch his attention and obsessing over them until he gets bored.  While he has his issues with Mutankind’s leaders, he is still incredibly passionate about the safety and well-being of mutants, and a lot of his work after leaving the New Mutants originally has been about giving young mutants safe spaces for them to grow and learn without the threat of whatever new catastrophe is coming for mutants. 

Appearance

Atticus is a man in his late 20’s, with a pale complexion, a light brown mullet, and green eyes. While skinny and gangly in his youth, age has caused him to become noticeably wider and hairier, with a prominent stomach and body hair, alongside a decently sized beard. This has led to his nickname, “Teddy Bear”, from Illyana, thanks to his general body warmth. Atticus no longer wears the standard New Mutants uniform, even on missions, preferring to wear comfortable clothing (jeans, sweaters, etc) instead, though for a brief period he wore a t-shirt with ‘X-Man’ in poorly written comic sans font as a joke. 

Powers

Atticus is a (within a limited definition) Alpha level reality warper, initially with the ability to increase the rotation speed of objects within viewing distance (frisbee’s bullets, etc). As he got older, Atticus developed the ability to ‘spin’ bigger and bigger objects, until he realized that with enough focus he could spin planets, and with enough effort, could ‘spin’ people out of their current dimension into other adjacent dimensions. This comes with great cost, as the strain from moving people between dimensions, or effecting multiple targets/trying to spin larger objects causes his body to break down, potentially leading to death or severe injury.

After his revival on Krakoa, Atticus also has a connection to a living sub-dimension called “The Garden”. While this connection initially offered no benefits, it was eventually found that it granted him a boost to his normal power (no longer needing eye contact to spin things) while also granting him complete control of The Garden when inside of it. It has also granted him the ability to resurrect, although resurrection seems to disable his powers outside The Garden for a period, and causes memory issues if done too frequently in succession. 

Relationships

Illyana Rasputin: Atticus and Illyana met as members of the New Mutants, the two becoming close friends and romantic partners over their time together. While they were physically separated, the two still maintained their relationship, only briefly separating after an argument over Utopia and the X-Men before the Phoenix Five incident. As of the Krakoan era, the two live together in a bungalow near the ocean, having adopted a creature from Otherworld called “Beastie”, and are working together as instructors when Illyana isn’t on X-Men missions.

The New Mutants: Atticus maintained close relationships with most of the New Mutants while he was away, although primarily with Dani, Sam and Rahne. Dani in particular are close friends, the two becoming far closer after M-Day. Xuan, Rahne, Dani and Atticus currently run Akedeimos as their representatives and head teachers.

X-Terminators: Atticus became an ‘unofficial’ member of the team after Illyana asked if he wanted to help Alison DM the team's D&D game. In particular, he and Alison Blaire (a.k.a Dazzler) became good friends and DM buddies, the two hanging out frequently. 

Other Relationships: For someone who doesn’t love the superhero thing, Atticus has a surprisingly large group of associates. He still maintains contact with his fellow staff from Avengers Academy, especially Ant-Man and Tigra, and has a friendly back and forth with The Thing. As for notable relationships within the X-Men; Atticus has a friendly relationship with Piotr since he’s dating Piotr’s sister, and has a close friendship with Kitty Pryde which is based on their mutual long running relationships with Illyana. He is also familiar with Scarlet Witch and Dr Strange through Illyana, although he wouldn’t go so far as to call them friends.

#x-men oc #marvel oc #x-men original character #marvel original character #oc x canon #original character #original character sheet #just wanted to get this out there #for reference #also please ask me questions abt him!!! he occupies so much of my brain lmao

[s41nt-b3rn4rd]

Tumblr won't let me put a read more on the orginal ask but, HELLO? HI?? I THOUGHT I HAD ANON OFF????? Yes hi I have ocs. My current favorites are like- 5 out of... so many. They'll be under the "read more" because there's alot about them. I'm normal I prommy.

Also potato if you see this, hi. {remember to read the tags for sillies}

In order of who im (SADLY) Hyperfixated on, it goes;

* Sasha {Bulleteer Aaron} , in canon she's an ex-boxer that now works at a tattoo parlor and shares an apartment with a demon she summoned while on a wine binge. She's mixed with Russian+Irish+Icelandic+Mexican heritage but grew up mainly with her Irish and Mexican heritage. She's a disaster panace who can't be picky at this point- Sasha just wants someone who she can come home to at the end of the day, and talk to like a normal person. Does she count as a villain? I hope so. She killed a small family in nebraska once. In a story/rp, she used to be the ambassador for a kingdom but settled down as a butcher. She got burn scars from it for being a #girlboss and they stayed canon. * Sydney {Witherstone Appleton} , in canon their a demon that got summoned BY Sasha. She works at a diner, but mainly lives to annoy Sasha by giving her "water curses" and "sleepy spells" which is just him staring at Sasha until she takes care of herself. Notice how Sydney has multiple pronouns! Because in my lil' oc universe- demons don't have genders. Hell is seperate by everyones own depiction and in mine- it's just.. bland. normal. Sometimes the current ruler throws parties, that's fun. You can get a gender if you want, healthcare and stuff is free. ANYWAYS- Sydney is so normal it HURTS me. It just wants to fucking get groceries, pay bills and leave. BTW they commited tax fraud but shhhh we don't have to talk about that. BTW 2 THEY ALSO KEEP IN CONTACT WITH THEIR FAMILY- HER FAMILY * Matthew {NO MIDDLENAME NOR LASTNAME}. You know that funny meme of what happens if a centaur and a mermaid have a kid?? Yeah he's that. He's basically like, a generic guy- minus his bull ears and the horn's he's growing and his ability to speak underwater and breathe underwater. In canon he used to be like- a leutanint general but now he works at a light-house. He's a weed smoking girlfriend despite being a gnc acearo man with chronic leg pain. also lung pain. In the rp he was made for, he was surprisingly the least problematic. All he did was stress knit- I'm pretty sure he got the job BECAUSE he was just! some guy! He does have horrors though. And by "horrors" I mean he grew up (and out of) the orphanage so he has little to no knowledge about his parents, chooses to stay silent/nonverbal throughout his life so his sentence forming SUCKS- he lives is life in a cycle, can barely cook nor fold laundry. To cope though, he knits and likes to sneak into gardens and revive dead/dieing plants via necromancy. BTW he grew up in the same orphanage as Sasha and they have a blood pact. If one gets hurt, so does the other. * The Asker {that's it's name}. Me and my bestie for life have an ask game with eachother, where our ocs ask eachother questions, and that's my silly little guy for it!! Funnily enough, it was based on anon asks, but eventually evolved into it's own thing. It used to live in an empty black void- with bright computer lights illuminating it's small area of safety, and a single keyboard with oh so many letters and such. But RECENTLY, that fuck ESCAPED!!! JAIL BREAK!!!!! And is currently living in the basement of a motel because "oh my god is this the outside why is it bright why is it loud oh my god oh my god [THEIR] going to [DECOMMISSION ME]." #slay, y'know? Don't worry though, it'll get a job at like- walgreens or walmart and live in a normal ass neighborhood soon. * Sammy {Picture}. Once again, another oc made for an RP that I absolutely FELL IN LOVE WITH!! He's an object-head with one of those rotary phones for a head, but more pathetic looking and kinda like a bug, but it's okay. He's a preschool teacher and admires his job. He has a situationship thing with the person who he shares an apartment with- a soap rabbit humanoid named Bob, that is also a substitute history teacher. Anyways remember the bug thing? Yeah. Sammy used to be a catipillar centaur but someone fucking robbed its grave when he died. BTW Sammy was a catipillar in this sense

and therefor he's very colorful. he's a pathetic meow meow but he's also said the most ominous insults ever. He's my favorite bc I like to imagine him doing the most boring tasks like drinking water. He does his taxes btw. Their my only oc who willingly does its taxes.

#the clown reveals it's blorbos #the clown escaped the tags. #long post #ocs #ocs. #oh btw in canon Sasha has a cultist sibling #Matthew also got tax benefits married. It was to a woman named Margiold and it's a cover-up bc shes doing evil lesbian stuff with her wife #answered asks #anon #anon if you want to him me up my dms are open. please. pleasee #i will give you my discord. maybe

[missathlete31]

Nowhere to Run- Chapter 6

Posting another chapter also to save Glen Powell’s hashtag from this GiGi/Glen/Sydney drama.

Warning that Maverick is a bit ugly in this chapter. He was fired from his job that he loved after effectively cutting three pilots' wings. He's been accused and reprimanded for ending other people's careers and that can't feel good. Now he is stuck at his own hangar while the Daggers all separate, and his best friend is still dead. He has no family besides Bradley who he know has to leave him now when he is shipped off, and he has no real purpose in life anymore (in his mind). So Maverick gets drunk and he finds Jake as a target. It is an AU characterization for sure and I hope you all will forgive me for it.

The wedding ceremony of Reuben and Jacqueline was being held in the gardens of a country club so Jake pulled the car in for valet before the trio headed to the area to get some seats. They arrived just in time, able to procure three seats together in one of the back rows and sat without drawing any attention to themselves. Once settled Jake couldn’t help but to look around, another set of three immediately catching his eye.

Phoenix, Rooster and Maverick sat a few rows up from Jake, all together. Since they were seated Hangman couldn’t get the best look but the blonde could tell right away something was off with all their body languages. Phoenix looked to slouch in her seat dejectedly, an absolutely startling sight from the woman who commanded attention from every room she’d ever enter. Her gaze stayed down to the ground and she only offered little nods or shakes when Bradley turned to say something to her. It was a strange sight, and something that made the blood already start to boil in Jake despite only having watched for thirty seconds. This was Jake’s biggest fear, the concern that he raised to Natasha herself all those months ago before he left Top Gun. He knew that following Bradley Bradshaw was not the path for the female pilot; she was always going to shine the most on her own. Jake hoped he was overreacting, he hoped that he would see Phoenix at the reception and she would be snarky and fun and the spark that made Natasha would be there but he was worried, so very worried.

On the other end of the threesome, Jake almost had to do a double take; the sight of grey hairs in Pete Mitchell’s notoriously known sleek dark hair looking so foreign that Jake would have assumed it was another person. But no, it was Maverick, the ace pilot, the legend of Top Gun and the entire Navy and yet when the man turned around and straightened up to catch a glimpse at who was left to take their seats, Jake could have sworn the man was thirty years older in the time he had seen him last. To be fair Maverick was nearing 60, however when he trained the Dagger Squad a few short months ago he held his own and bested them in most things. Even shirtless dogfight football showed that the elder pilot still had the physique and the stamina to keep up with people half his age. Now the man just looked weathered, his face drawn and sad, his body holding a bit more weight that was more pronounced on his shorter frame. He shuffled uneasily as he continued to look around before Rooster said something and the man sat right back down as though ordered. He didn’t turn around again.

In between the two was Bradley who besides looking a little more shaggy-headed, was more or less the same. He alternated between talking to Nat and Mav, never spending too much time with one instead of the other. It reminded Hangman of a mother, keeping both her children entertained without any favoritism; reminding them not to slouch and to clap when appropriate.

It was just such an outlandish image overall for Jake that he turned to say something to Javy about it. However before he got his chance the music began to swell and he was forced silent by the start of the wedding. Payback stood at the front of the altar in a tuxedo instead of his dress whites, looking the picture of suave and sophistication. He offered wide grins to a few of the guests, and then turned to watch the members of the wedding party make their way down the aisle. Fanboy was a big hit of course, winking and smiling at a few of the pilots he recognized before finally giving his partner a big thumbs up before he took his spot at his side.

When Jacqueline appeared the whole crowd seemed to hold their breath, the woman looking radiant in her ivory gown. Her eyes stayed on Reuben the whole way down, beaming with happy tears as she watched the man she was about to marry cry as he saw her. The two lovers met in front of the wedding officiant and held hands throughout the ceremony, leaving no doubt to any of those in attendance of how much they adored each other.

After the vows were exchanged and Reuben was allowed to kiss his new bride for all the world to see, the guests were ushered inside for a cocktail hour before they were led to the reception. The cocktail hour, (the best hour at any wedding in Jake’s opinion) was pleasant. The food was delicious as was expected and thanks to Naomi being the designated driver, both Jake and Javy got to indulge in some scotch from the open bar. As they mingled around, Jake was able to catch up with some of the old Daggers, each greeting him enthusiastically. It squelched the nerves that had been simmering in Jake’s stomach, the nagging fear of being rejected or un-liked that seemed to be permanently attached to him. Instead the team appeared to fall right into step like no time had passed at all, everyone happy and healthy and in one piece when all that seemed so unsure a few months ago.

Towards the end of the hour Jake came close to getting a minute with Natasha, but the other woman clutched her water a little tighter and headed in the other direction. Jake couldn’t contain his disappointment but Fritz told him not to let it get to him while he explained the complete transition in Phoenix’s demeanor. Hangman didn’t know what upset him worse, hearing how Nat had effectively become the bully of the replacement squad when they had all left or how she had become almost like a shadow in the weeks since Maverick’s leaving. The blonde knew he needed to find a way to talk to the woman, find out what exactly was going on. She may hate him but Jake had nothing but respect for Natasha Trace and he knew the world would not seem right unless she was at her best.

When the reception started, Jake realized quite quickly that not all the Daggers were sitting together. Thankfully the split was Rooster, Phoenix, Fritz, Fanboy and Maverick seated at one table with some of Reuben’s other pilot friends. Meanwhile his table was Jake and the two Machados, Halo and Omaha who had finally seemed to embrace the inevitable and declared their feelings for each other, Harvard and his girlfriend Marilyn, Yale, and most surprising of all Bob Floyd and his plus one, a young man named Dylan. Jake actually found himself seated next to the quiet WSO and his date and he noticed the way Bob's eyes shifted nervously when he introduced Dylan to the rest of the squad.

Jake grew up in Texas and then joined the military so he was well aware of homophobia and all the ways it could rear its ugly head. He had seen it ruin friendships and squadrons instantly, destroying what should be safe places and questioning other people’s characters. Jake couldn’t imagine having to worry about what others would say about who a person chooses to love. He knew that it took a lot of guts for anyone to so willingly share this part of their personal life with anyone. Luckily the bespectacled man next to him had absolutely nothing to be scared of as the team welcomed Dylan instantly and warmly. The man had met Bob just a few short months ago but it was obvious they both were very smitten, Dylan held Bob's hand through most of the conversation and every time they caught each other's eyes, they shared a sweet smile.

Being around all this love made Jake feel pretty lonely as he sat at the table. He wasn't the only one riding solo, Yale had come alone and Jake saw a few others around the room with no dates, but it still felt different. Hangman had spent a lifetime pushing others away, having no qualms about focusing on his career first and foremost, marriage a statistical unlikelihood and children something that Jake's own troubled childhood had made him frightened of. However, as Javy rested a loving hand on Naomi's baby bump and the three other couples all rose to dance during a slow tune, Jake wished he didn't have such strong convictions in the past against settling down.

Hangman rose up before he got too melancholy, heading to the bar in the corner of the room only to run into one of the people he had hoped he could have kept avoiding. Pete Mitchell stood by the drink station, nursing a whiskey that did not look like his first by the way he was leaning. The man was watching over the wedding procession with hooded eyes, his expression not the warm melancholy of a man past his prime, or even the jealous envy of a single loner. He just looked void and blank, which were two words never associated with Maverick Mitchell.

The older pilot spotted Jake quickly and his eyes widened just a fraction before he took another sip of his drink and let loose a hiss. Knowing it would be worse if he turned around, Hangman continued over, nodding to the bartender and ordering a scotch. "Sir" he acknowledged while he silently pleaded for the bartender to pour faster.

"Seresin" Maverick's voice was slightly slurred, confirming Jake’s suspicion of his multiple drinks, "didn't you hear?" the man continued, rolling his glass a little as he watched the amber liquid splash around, "I don’t need to be addressed as Sir anymore."

Jake wasn't quite sure how to play the situation but opted for honesty, "yes" he conceded cautiously, "I heard you retired."

Pete gave a snort of bitterness that just seemed so wrong coming from the man, "it wasn't voluntary" he shared looking up at the blonde once more, "You were right, I wasn’t fit to lead the team.”

“I didn’t say that-“

“Didn’t you?” the older man challenged, pressing off the bar to step closer to his former Lieutenant. “Isn’t that what you screamed to the rafters in the hangar that day? That you didn’t trust my judgment? My decisions?”

Jake could stop the blush of guilt that flashed over his cheeks, “I didn’t mean- Sir I-“

“I told you” Maverick snapped harshly, “I’m not Sir anymore.”

This wasn’t the situation Jake wanted to be in and certainly not the venue. He looked over to the side and noticed Javy was watching warily from their table. He nodded over to his best friend to put him at ease before turning back to his former Captain, “I think I should head out-“

“Yes” Pete tilted his head as though pondering something, “that is what you do, isn’t it Seresin? Run away.”

Jake felt his defensiveness rising, “Look Mav I’m sorry about what happened but I did what was best for me.”

"Don't you always" the man scuffed.

It was foolish to keep engaging but Jake felt the heat of the scotch in his gut egging him on. "I see you've been taking notes from Rooster" the blonde spat back, "I forgot that you pushing dangerous and life-threatening stunts on a bunch of newbies was my fault. Enlightening me Mav, was I the one flying in between them?"

Maverick's green eyes blazed, the most emotion that Jake had seen from the man since he caught a glimpse of him at the wedding. The older man took his pointer finger and rammed it hard into Jake's chest, "all I ever wanted was to train you all to get home! I cared more about your lives than the mission-"

Hangman pushed Maverick's hand from his chest, "No one ever doubted that" he told his former captain, "but you always wanted to fix your relationship with Bradshaw and it clouded your judgment."

"I picked the team that succeeded!" Pete's voice rose, enough to draw the attention of a few people in the crowd. Jake could see Javy rising, no doubt wondering why he was staying in this conversation any longer. Maverick clutched at Jake's dress whites with a desperate hold, "even you" he explained expressively, "you being the spare was methodical too, I knew you'd be the only one that could fly fast enough to get to us if we needed it."

The blonde swallowed roughly, "You couldn't have known I'd fly against orders-"

Mitchell nodded sagely, "I couldn't know for sure but I knew if anyone would have done it, it would be you" he said, echoing the similar words to what Cyclone had spoken in his office all those months ago. It dawned on Jake that for all of Maverick's renegade status he and the other Admiral were not so different. They all wanted the same thing, success and everyone coming home. Captain Mitchell naturally thought that Simpson and Bates wanted success first, and maybe they did, but they also cared, maybe just as much as Mav did. But they were different; they were regimented; they believed in rules and regulations and order. Maverick believed in getting things done however you needed. Neither were 100% right or wrong, they were just different styles.

Jake looked down for a moment before finding his former captain's eye again. The truth of the matter was he respected Maverick for his record, for his skills and as a man. Him picking Bradshaw and ignoring the glaring problems with that choice was the reasons that Jake couldn't respect him as a Captain. But the man was no longer a CO. Instead he was a clipped bird, stuck on the ground for the rest of his life, bitter and angry with a growing feeling of inadequacy. It's hard to stay mad at someone like that. The blonde shook his head, "look Pops" he began hoping the nickname would soften the edges of fiery emotion from this conversation, "I didn't expect it to get here okay?"

Maverick backed off a bit, "Me either."

"And I'm sorry" Jake continued, "for what happened to you. I'm sorry that the Dagger Squad didn't become what you wanted, or Rooster wanted, but you can't blame that on me."

"You never gave it a chance" the older man explained, moving back to his position of leaning against the bar top as though it was too much energy to stay standing and conversing with Jake any longer, “because you weren't the star."

Hangman rolled his eyes, frustration mounting as he felt the need to defend himself again, "this isn't about my ego-"

"It is. And I should know" Mav warned, "because I was the same. You and me Seresin, we aren't so different. Running around and trying to be the best, shine the brightest, only worried about getting that ace status-"

"There's nothing wrong with wanting to be the best in your field-"

"But you won't be that" Pete cut in gravely, looking even older than his years. He grabbed Jake's arm with an iron tight grip to force him to listen. "You don't get to be the best pilot or move up the ranks to being an Admiral. Men like us Jake, we don't rise."

"Sir you became a Captain-"

"Because I wouldn't die" the man explained, "We are meant to die young and in a blaze of glory. We are meant to be a part time Navy assets that burns itself out before the expiration of its shelf life. You and I, we aren't the Icemans of the world or even the Cyclones." He took a step closer, right in Jake's face, "you are a liability, just like I was, and the Navy always gets rid of their liabilities eventually."

"And how do they do that?" Hangman asked, his curiosity in the seasoned pilot’s point too poignant to step away from.

Pete sighed, "they give you enough rope to hang yourself" he shared, his eyes growing distant. Jake had a feeling he was back up in the skies that faithful day a few weeks ago, flying in between two planes like he always did, only to watch the stunt go horribly wrong so quickly. "They give you that rope and they let time drive you to wrap it around yourself."

"With all due respect Mav," Hangman cut in to drive the older man from his thoughts, "but I'm not like you. I wouldn't do what you did-"

The smile Pete gave in reply froze the blood in Jake's veins. It was creepy in its knowingness. Like Maverick knew this big secret that Hangman was too dumb to understand, and maybe he did. Maybe Mav had a point, could Jake advance to the Admiral status like he always dreamed? Or was he like Pete Mitchell, always chasing after the next bogey, flying like a maverick instead of an iceman. Losing the game of advancement before he even realized he was playing. Jake felt his cheeks redden as the truth hit him.

Maverick looked smug as he watched realization dawn on the younger man, "that's right Seresin, now you get it. We don't become admirals, we don’t advance. You think you have a future with the Navy but you don't, we don't, we're just meant to fly until we die and hopefully it's sooner rather than later for everyone's sake." He shot back the rest of his whiskey and slammed the glass a little too harshly back on the table, "enjoy the rest of the wedding" he declared as he gave Jake one final slap on the shoulder before slipping back into the crowd of dancers.

#top gun maverick #glen powell #jake seresin #top gun hangman #top gun #top gun fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw #maverick #top gun movie #tom cruise #jake seresin fanfiction #pete mitchell #dagger squad #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin fic #natasha phoenix trace #miles teller #javy coyote machado #monica barbaro #drama #maverick fanfic #maverick really goes off in this chapter #and says some messed up things #i am sorry

[foodreceipe]

How to grow the most expensive spice in the world | Wow to | Gardening Australia

This farm in Tasmania’s Huon Valley grows rows of the delicate flowers that create the spice that is worth more than gold. Saffron Crocus (Crocus sativus) are a small, somewhat unassuming flower with purple petals. But it is what’s inside that counts – the red, three-pronged stigma. When plucked and dried, this becomes what we know as saffron. 30 years ago, Nicola Noonan and her husband left their corporate jobs in Sydney, purchased a farm and began importing Saffron bulbs. While this farm produces over 100,000 saffron crocus flowers per year, that doesn’t equate to a lot of saffron strands – one kilo of dried saffron comes from 250,000 flowers!

#Saffron Crocus #How to grow #How to #Youtube

[elizabeaufort]

⏤ Introducing ELIZABETH BEAUFORT. Word on the street is they are a STRIPPER / MODEL, having been around for 4 YEARS. Though they are OBSESSIVE and COMPULSIVE, they can also be OPEN MINDED and GENEROUS. In the chaos of New York City, they’re sure to fit right in.

— BASICS

Name: elizabeth "lux" louise beaufort

Nickname(s): "lux" ( preferred nickname and stage name ), "liz, lizzie" ( family members only )

Age / D.O.B.: 30, July, 2nd 1993.

Gender, Pronouns & Sexuality: Female, she / her, heterosexual.

Hometown: Sydney, Australia

Affiliation: Civilian

Job position: (If gang member/affiliated, please indicate their role as well.) Stripper @ GENTILLE FILLE

Education: Dropped out the second year of Arts and Design

Relationship status: Widow, single.

Children: 2 ( twins, beau and lilou age 3 )

Positive traits: (5) open mind, kind, patient, flexible, resilient

Negative traits: (5) obsessive, compulsive, impulsive, enigmatic, awkward

Personality:  INFP

Height: 1,68m / 5'6" ft

— BIOGRAPHY

TRIGGER WARNINGS: murder, death, child abandonment

What happens when a French gardener Claude and a socialite divorced Estella became lovers? This is how Elizabeth came to the world. She was born in Australia, Sydney. Her grandparents by her mother side, wasn't thrilled with the news. But they tried to make it, their romance and their little family. At the age of 5, Elizabeth and her parents moved to U.S. seeking for the 'American dream'.

Arriving in the States, they tried to adapt to the new life, but Estella wasn't very happy. She misses her old life in Australia where she had everything and there had to battle to get her things. Eventually, the fights became constant, and Claude tried everything to fix it, although he didn't have the budget to give what his wife wanted.

When Elizabeth was 9 years old, her mother said she was going on a trip and would back. And she never back. She abandoned her, and her father. A few years later he signed the divorce paper she requested.

Years and years later, she met a guy named Jack, and the pair quickly became infatuated. He was a mechanic, and she wished to one day become an interior designer. They married and had twin babies (a couple), named Finnegan 'Finn' and Lillou.

A tragedy of destiny came when her husband was brutally murdered. The killer mistook him with somebody else. He wasn't the target. After the death of her husband, it was hard to raise her children and she felt bad for all the effort her father was making for her, and his grandchildren. She did a lot of odd jobs to help her children and her father as well, this is when she met someone, who suggested her work in a club that was looking for new strippers and paid well.

She went to get information and decided to give it a shot. It was the fastest way to get money and paid well. At home, people are unaware of what she does for work, and she would rather things be kept this way. Her father helps her with the twins.

⏤ TLDR // TRIVIA HC

her mother abandoned her when she was a child.

her husband was murdered by mistake.

mother of two (twins) a boy and a girl named lilou, and beau, age 3.

her father helps her with the grandchildren

did a lot of odd jobs and still does some odd jobs

her twins are colorblind

her father knows she is a stripper but he pretends he does not know it, and she pretends to her father that she does not work as a stripper either.

she still wishes to be an interior designer or have her own drink company.

— WANTED CONNECTIONS:

Clients (??): Maybe she has affection for y/u (platonically) maybe not, but y/m pays her well.

Friends of her (deceased) husband (2/3): Maybe they still get in touch with her, idk.

Close friend (1/2): She's very hard to open up, or let anyone in to get to know her well… But this person didn't struggle much to open up.

Unlikely friends (2):

Ride and die (1):

— TAKEN CONNECTIONS:

Friends: Rahi, Gabi, Ezra, Korra, Luis, Aviel

Acquainted: Tristan, Oscar, Flynn

Close friends: Damien, Talia, Izara

Fwb or 1 night stands: Zane, Sebastian, Axel

Childhood friends: Damien, Talia

Clients: Hans, Sebastian, Callum, Aviel

Her late husband's friends: Jack, Izara

Co-worker: Harley, Seine

Parents friends: Korra, Ezra, Raffa

Neighbors: Raffa

#wb.intro #child abandonment tw #murder mention tw #death tw

[etherealising]

I 1 BILLION % AGREE! Carmy should not have any kind of relationship, no one deserves the kind of relationship canon Carmy would put people through. As much as I love him and would love to fuck him realistically he’d be a horrible partner to anyone. I think you do a really great job of keeping his really awful traits like the not opening up to anyone and doing things to ruin his own life at the expense of people around him but also making it feel like he deserves all the love in the world.

I have some more comments about the last chapter after reading through it again today! So Carmy was expecting Baby to still be there after he got back from work? That must have felt a little like betrayal to him. I mean you’ve just given over all of yourself to someone you really love and you turn around and they’re gone. It must feel like waking up to an empty bed. As mad as I still am about the old acquaintance thing I can understand, he was probably really hurt after, I would be.

And about The Chain™️, did Baby leave the pendent or was it something Carmy bought himself? It’s sweet either way, if Baby left it it’s like she was leaving a piece of herself with Carmen (like he left a piece of himself with her even if it was only for a short while) and if he bought it himself it’s like he needed to have her with him all the time.

These two are honestly driving me up the wall, how am I supposed to get anything done when I spend half my day thinking about these two and how they could possibly figure their shit out.

-🎀

canon carmy definitely has some healing to do, both claire and sydney deserve better than him. and i cannot explain how much the whole ‘sydney can/does make carm a better person’ argument grates on my nerves like no thank you syd is not a gardener and carmy is not a plant it’s not her job to grow him into the person he needs to be for himself and those around him.

but i too would fuck carmen berzatto not like i’m writing a fic about him or anything 😐

not the re-read that’s love! yes he was! they both weren’t in a good mental space (mikey ya know…dead) so the whole weekend was like one big delusion for the both of them. they were just like yeah we can make this work (even though carm admits he can’t commit and baby knows she’s needed in chicago + her job). that weekend was never gonna work out between them because as soon as one of them verbally mentioned mikey (and carm’s absence at the funeral it would have gone downhill) he’s hurt about a lot more than just that, next update explores it more.

aww both of those ideas are so cute, and sadly i cannot give you the answer just yet! 🤭

the age old question really. but we’ll be getting more maturity between these two in the next update!

#welcome home 🎀 anon #why do I also respond like this is a discussion board? #[aiekoy] asks #vee answers °•. ✿ .•° #all i ever knew only you ₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊

[youngharridan]

Let me preface this by saying I adore Annie Autumn. Its one of those great one-sided/parasocial kind of relationships of my online life. I’ve been following her for awhile now after seeing her tagged in another friend of a friend’s posts. I bought a baby blanket from her for a friend of mine when she was doing a fundraiser, and I have one of her hook rugs on my wall as well. It’s devastating watching her go through cancer treatment and now settling into end of life care - but I also really value what she is willing to share with everyone. Radical queer community grieving at its finest. That is all to say – this is a funny kind of review. Not that I ever strive for objectivity or anything like that. But this little zine really hit a spot in me and its really interesting to give a bit of a longer reflection.

I bought this on a total whim – Annie made merch for her living wake and asked Instagram if people would buy it. Which hell yeah of course we wanted it! Let everyone wear this beautiful stuff while giving you some money for your family. And she included this zine with the totes and shirts. I knew she had built her home with her family and community and jumped at the prospect of hearing more of the story. It’s a short zine – maybe less than 10 pages, colour printed on cardboard. It’s structured around two weather events that woke Annie up in the middle of the night and threatened her home. In-between these stories of fire and flood is a bit about the actual building of the house. The thing that initially struck me is that this is a climate crisis story, displaying the real cost of our collective failure to address climate change meaningfully and sharing the material effects of this crisis. This is a story that is both political and personal in all the best ways.

Annie talks about how building her own house was a dream of her’s from when she was a teenager. I feel like it is such a strong trope in the queer community that we all dream of running away from society to start a commune where we can live freely and build things together. I have personally harboured this dream, but during the covid-19 pandemic lockdowns I was confronted with just how interconnected we all are and thought that this kind of running away fantasy was really cruel. I don’t want to turn away from the world, I want to find a way to live in it while also being in community. This also led to me to looking at houses instead of property when it came to buying a house. I did kind of abandon the city in the end and run away a bit, but just up the hill to the mountains where we could afford to buy a house just outside of the insane Sydney property bubble.

There is something that I struggle with that comes in later in the zine that I want to dig into a bit, towards the end. Annie reflects on how the house is far from perfect but that:

“I love that she’s still a bit of a work in progress, that I’ve shown my kids that you can build a life using your hands, and that life can resist dominant paradigms that dictate that you ‘cant’t’ or ‘shouldn’t’ make things for yourself. That tells you not to try in case the things you make are ‘bad’. That its better to work in a soulless job so that you can pay others to use their hands to make things for you – your clothes, your home, your garden”.

This kind of sentiment is something that greatly irritates me while also being something that I agree with to a certain extent. I live in a house that someone else built – and we paid someone to renovate the kitchen in the first year we lived here, and I don’t regret either of these decisions. I also really want to learn how to paint the walls myself and take on other repairs eventually as well because learning skills rules. The garden is going to be a lifelong project for me. At the moment it’s a fussy cottage garden that the retirees that lived here before us obviously poured so much love and care into, but is full of plants I want to slowly replace with natives and productive fruits and vegetables. I don’t think it’s fair to blanket say that all work is soulless, and that paying professionals to do things for you is wrong. But I do think we could all stand to learn the true cost of things like food and clothes on the planet, people, and animals. So call me a fake radical but I am happy to give some jobs over to the tradies in my house.

I kind of can’t believe how long this went – hoping to review more zines this year but don’t expect >500 words very often.

#zines #zine reviews #yes we're bringing back reviews in a big way for 2024 🙏 #image described

[berzattosbandanas]

sydcarmy as taylor swift songs: a list

This show has got me down so bad, and the meta and fan fiction has given me such a stunning case of brain rot that I am actually writing something to contribute to a tag for the first time.

Sydcarmy is the one ship that I didn't want to have Taylor Swift songs for, because even as a major Swiftie, I need a break sometimes. However, the TikTok edits got me and I now have a list. There aren't many on this list just because I'm actively trying not to overreach with their current state in canon and not confuse myself with the mass amount of fan fiction I have read in the last month.

I think I need to establish my own thoughts on these two characters and their relationship at some point, but I think the main thread I have is that they don't know what they mean to each other yet. Carmy is definitely more in love with Syd at this point in time as he has visibly shown that he needs her to cope. While this is a bit unhealthy and could lead to a smidge of codependence, Syd is the person who understands him and his craft and knows him beyond his family, which is a source of comfort for him. On the other hand, Sydney has spent the series growing out of her hero worship of Carmy and building a professional relationship with him that has made them equals. I think having this innate understanding of each other will translate well into a romantic relationship, especially with the boundaries of this professional relationship being as blurry as they are and the feelings simmering under the surface. There is not a single platonic explanation for the panic attack scene or the table scene, but both of these characters have not been given an opportunity to have their romantic feelings become realised yet but there is such a clear opportunity for it to go this way.

Song One: cowboy like me (evermore 2020)

This song is the story of two con artists who fall in love but the narrator is unsure of how real the relationship is, despite the twin flame/soulmatism of it all. There is so much in this song to analyse on its own and in relation to these two, but I will try and keep it to a few points.

While Syd and Carmy are not con artists, their shared passion and job binds them together the way the con artists in the song are. They have both had bad experiences in fine dining, souring their passion but the newfound connection and subsequent relationship with each other have given them hope because of their unique understanding. This is akin to the experiences the narrator of the song puts forward of the rich men who she has tricked and their wives who have talked shit about her for it. Deceit is also a theme of the song, relating to how Syd and Carmy are, at this point, hiding their true feelings for the other from themselves and hiding behind the restaurant and their food to do that talking.

The relationship described in the song is hesitant but they know that it is it. The line now I know / I'm never gonna love again after the con artists' first meeting and repeated at the end of the song imply that this could either be the greatest love story or their biggest ruin, mirroring what Syd and Carmy have the capacity to be to each other. Now you hang from my lips / like the Gardens of Babylon carries so much meaning in the song on its own, with the reference to a historical place that has no proof of ever existing implying that the relationship is beautiful but idealistic and a far-away fantasy for someone in the unconventional line of work the narrator is. In relation to Carmy and Syd, the industry they work in is insanely difficult to form romantic relationships within and outside of, but there are a lot of fwb situations to blow off steam. This speaks to if the relationship between the two takes a sexual or romantic turn, where will the line be drawn? Will it just be a friends with benefits situation or can they put in the work to make it a beautiful, healthy and fulfilling relationship, just like the Gardens of Babylon would have needed if it actually existed?

Overall, the song does validate the connection that Carmy and Sydney have and that they can be (are) the great loves of each others' lives, but it needs work and both of them to stop lying to themselves and each other about their feelings.

Song Two: peace (folklore 2020)

Peace is a song that I think encapsulates Carmy's point of view on a relationship. Not just with Syd, as parts of the song can be generalised out to Claire and even his familial relationships like Mikey, Richie, Nat etc. It speaks of warning someone about committing to the narrator, in this case Carmy, as he is not a peaceful person so it would be hard to give the other person the peace they seek in a relationship.

Of course, I think the person to give Carmy peace and allow him to reciprocate would be Sydney because they work in the same industry, and get each other in a way that no one else can understand. They have both had moments of validation from the other, Sydney by having a culinary education and fine dining experience validating Carmy's thoughts and direction during The Beef era, and Carmy acknowledging her fears in the table scene and absolving them (before getting stuck in the fridge and unintentionally going backwards on his word). This validation of the other is such a gift of peace in an otherwise crazy workplace that is a valued part of their relationship.

The whole song is of giving someone peace, warmth and a safe place to come to that Carmy is sceptical of having and being but will give to the described partner to the best of his ability. The narrator/Carmy also admires the person they are singing the song to, Your integrity makes me feel small / you paint dreamscapes on the wall, which forms a big part of the relationship because if this is about anyone, it would be about Syd. I think in 2x03, he wants to let her creativity show and be able to collaborate with her to create a restaurant that is not just his, but theirs but hey, then a big distraction walks in the door.

The bridge is also a massive part of why this song is Carmy-specific.

And you know that I'd swing with you for the fences Sit with you in the trenches Give you my wild, give you a child Give you the silence that only comes when two people understand each other

He wants to give Sydney her dream, as well as achieve his own of his restaurant with Mikey, this is spoken through the wild and child, as the wild his his passion, effort and attention and the child in this case is The Bear. He will support her through her decisions and ambitions, the same way she will him, and go through all the shit with her that comes with running a business in the cutthroat culinary world, whilst wanting to know more of her and her life (the Dead Mom conversation, the "say more" in the table scene). The silence line is the most Sydcarmy coded song lyric that I have ever heard in my life and they have the beginnings of that connection now, but they have such a capacity to grow into that sort of telepathic connection and safe space for each other that I really hope we get to see.

Song Three: hoax (folklore 2020)

These songs, in my head, go together quite well and in this case, it is Sydney singing about Carmy. The singer begins the song as downtrodden, whether as a result of their life and experiences or because of the other person, which works with Syd's narrative thus far. Over the course of the song, the narrator insinuates that as disillusioned with life as she is, the hoax that is being in love and having a life with this one specific person is all they want.

For Syd, her previous experiences in fine dining and her catering business were those winless fight[s] / that have frozen [her] ground and made her closed off from the culinary world until she saw the job posting by Carmy that gave her hope. These and her mother's death early in her life have also seen to have frozen her heart, as we as the audience have had no mention to connections she has beyond her dad and those at The Bear. I hope in the next season/s that we get to see Syd with some friends (bring Rachel Sennot on the show pleeeease) so she doesn't seem as lonely as she does.

Don't want no other shade of blue, but you / no other sadness in the world would do is such a romantic lyric that speaks to, when she realises she is in love with Carmy and wants to be with him, wanting to be with a person regardless of all their mental health issues and insecurities, which Carmen Berzatto has in abundance. To counter with Peace, Carmy wants the same with Syd, despite her neuroticisms and anxieties, he wants her too.

The bridge in this song is also a big part of why I like this song for Syd and Carmy.

You know I left a part of me back in New York You knew the hero died, so what's the movie for? You knew it still hurts underneath my scars From when they pulled me apart You knew the password, so I let you in the door You knew you won, so what's the point of keeping score? You knew it still hurts underneath my scars From when they pulled me apart But what you did was just as dark Darling, this was just as hard As when they pulled me apart

The New York mention makes it feel like this could be a Carmy song because he was so battered and bruised by his New York experiences, pulled apart if you will, but for Sydney, New York meant something else to her. She tasted Carmy's food for the first time and set her standards for food there. I think she has yet to reach her own standards, whilst being an incredible chef, and growing closer to Carmy in terms of their professional partnership and personal relationship will help her reach that.

There is something so intimate about someone knowing you so well and there being such a strong connection that all of the walls you keep up are let down around this person (You knew the password, so I let you in the door) and I think that this is Carmy to Sydney. She told him about her mom which she had not told anyone else (as far as we have seen) and they share many of the same fears in terms of the culinary world so letting him in was easy, he just now has to maintain being that person and be the hoax that Syd can believe in.

Other Songs

Obviously there are many more songs that could fit these two, but they are included in multiple Sydcarmy playlists on Spotify and capture what I feel like these two characters could feel for each other based on what we have seen so far in the show.

Renegade (feat Taylor Swift) - Big Red Machine (How Long Do You Think It's Gonna Last? 2021)

The Archer (Carmy Carmy Carmy)

You Are In Love (established relationship fic vibes)

False God (for when the finally get their act together)

#sydcarmy #sydney adamu #carmy x sydney #carmen berzatto #taylor swift #evermore #folklore