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vampire-exgirlfriend · 1 year

Note

Hello, hello! First I wanted to say that I absolutely adore your writing. So thank you for sharing it with us common folk! Second regarding your open asks if possible and whenever: Bare and/or copper for Osferth? Pretty please? :) but only if you feel like it! xx

After Dark

I decided to play around with some season five Osferth for this one and really like how it came out. I've started to realize I always make baby monk a lil closet freak lol

Pairing: Osferth x reader (first person)

Rating: E

Warnings: smut, a tiny bit of blood

masterlist

Word that Rumcofa was to have a new Lord spread like wildfire, making its way through the church gossips to the tavern drunks and every home in between.

When he finally arrived, I found Lord Uhtred to be a decent enough sort, though maybe too pretty for his own good. Eyes followed him everywhere, raking over the hair that gave him away as a fellow Dane, to his charming smile and down his lean body. The men he traveled with respected him, and he in turn treated them with great affection. The Irishman, Finan, was quickly entangled with Ingrith, and Sithric Kjartansson brought with him a wife from Wessex. That left Alfred and Edward's bastards for the women of Rumcofa to fight over, one barely out of boyhood and the other an utter contradiction, wearing the cross of his god and the armor of a warrior.

They went for the handsome contradiction in droves.

For months the group would take up residence in the tavern. They were polite enough, rowdy on occasion, and happy to drink like they'd just survived a drought. Osferth, the elder bastard boy, would send shy eyes across the room, darting away when I looked back at him. It was hard not to preen under his sweet attention, even when other women dragged him from his table and out into the dark.

He spoke softly, never really saying much at all, but when he did speak, I found myself listening, hoping to catch the sound of his voice as I wiped down tables and cleaned up the discarded cups.

After enough push and pull, eyes meeting over crowded rooms, Osferth reached out, his fingers wrapping around the bones of my wrist as I attempted to scoot by with hands full of cups.

Shock bled over his face, as if he couldn't believe he'd actually gone through with the action, as opposed to just imagining it. But he recovered quickly, smiling up at me. My own mouth curled up at the corners. "Yes, monk?" I asked with a raised brow. If his friends noticed, they said nothing, keeping their eyes averted.

"Lady, not to insinuate anything or assume," he cleared his throat, "but might I walk you home tonight?"

My other brow rose, the two pinching in confusion. "You want to…walk me home?"

He nodded.

I glanced around the room, at his friends, at the other women I knew would jump at the opportunity. But when I looked back he still had that earnest expression on his face. "You don't seem to hurt for company. Why are you asking me?"

"It is your company I've sought for months now, I've only just worked up the nerve to say so." His hand was warm on my forearm where his fingers grasped. My eyes darted between his hand and his reddening face. It became obvious that any experience the barely-not-a-boy had was recently gained. He released me and I was surprised to find I missed the heat of his skin against mine.

"I suppose you could walk me home." My eyes fell on his friends, loud in a good natured sense and nearing drunk, their laughter carrying through the room. "If your friends decide they're ready to wrap up, that is.

Osferth turned to the Irishman, his blue eyes pleading. "Finen, if I've come to mean anything to you, you and Sihtric will go home."

"What? Now?" Finen's gaze slid between his friend and myself, narrowing and then widening again in realization. He slapped the skinny Dane on the back. "Finish up, Sihtric. Our baby monk has plans of the carnal variety."

Osferth looked as if he prayed the ground would open and swallow him whole, his mouth opening and closing like a beached fish. I just rolled my eyes and set to the task of cleaning the now sticky tables.

Half an hour crawled by and when I made my way to the door, the room was empty. Disappointment settled heavy in my gut when I realized Osferth had left with his friends. But I supposed it was for the best. There wasn't much point in getting tangled up with him anyway, even if it promised to be a good time. I had learned through my time in Rumcofa that Danes and christians were like oil and water.

I stepped out into the drizzle, the moon obscured by heavy clouds, the torches that lit the way sputtering as raindrops hit the flames. Pulling the heavy door closed behind me, I jumped when a throat cleared in the dark.

"Hel take you," I snapped, my heart thundering, my hand coming to rest over my chest as if to keep it from bursting open.

Osferth looked at the ground, biting back a grin before he glanced back up at me. His hands were clasped behind his back and for a moment he looked younger than his years, a little unsure of where we went from here. I took no mercy on him, sidestepping him as I found the path that would lead me home. When he didn't move to follow me, I looked over my shoulder before jerking my chin forward. He smiled again and jogged to meet me, his steps falling in time with mine.

The earth was damp, wet seeping into the hem of my dress as we walked up the gently rolling hill toward my home. After being so insistent on my company, Osferth was quiet, his eyes darting between me and the road ahead, his face pensive.

“You are thinking so hard I can hear it,” I teased, nudging his shoulder with my own. My house loomed before us, our walk coming to an end.

“I was just wondering…,” he trailed off.

“Wondering what?”

“If it would be alright if I came inside.” Even in the dark, with just the pale light of the moon peeking out from behind the clouds, I could see the blush that stained his cheeks.

“Are you sure you would not rather spend your evening with Gudrun?” I asked, not entirely joking. I wasn’t interested in being forgotten as soon as the sun rose, like the rumors said Osferth had a tendency to do. But there was something about this monk, this fighter, that had pulled me in since I first laid eyes on him. “She lives just over there.” I pointed to a house on our right, candlelight flickering through the window. “Or Elfreda? Her husband is still gone to Mercia. She speaks of you fondly.”

“Fond is not necessarily the word I would use, Lady.” His eyes found mine as we stopped outside my door. "I have no idea how she speaks of me. In truth, we’ve had one conversation…about her goats."

Something small and warm lit up in my chest. “You have never…?”

“Not with Gudrun or Elfreda.”

“Well that’s something, I suppose,” I said, a fragile smile curling at the edges of my mouth. “You can come in, but I will hear nothing about my heathen ways, monk.”

He grinned and it went to my head, leaving my fingertips tingling with the desire to touch him, to make him grin again. “Osferth will do, Lady. And after spending so much time with Lord Uhtred, I would never think to say a word about your ‘heathen ways’.”

I smiled back and shouldered open the door, gesturing for him to enter first. It was strange to see Osferth in my space, which was really just a large room I'd done my best to make comfortable. It held a hearth with a pot for cooking, a bed in the corner piled with furs and blankets, and a small table in the center of the room for meals. I made quick work of a fire, the sound of logs crackling filling the silence. For a man who had a tendency to blend in most places, Osferth stood out stark in the doorway. His sharp blue eyes darted around the room, taking in each detail, snagging on Frejya’s rune carved into the doorframe.

“What is this?” He asked, running a long finger over the lines. I was mesmerized by the grace of his hand, large and scarred and still so gentle as he traced over the carving.

“Fehu,” I answered, stepping up behind him, nearly close enough to touch. “Freyja is the goddess of love, but also of death and battle. She instructs us to have strength, to know our own worth. It is a reminder for me.”

He turned and it was impossible not to lean into the heat of him. A shy smile pulled at his lips and suddenly all I could think of was kissing him. I wondered if he would be any good at it or if he was as well practiced as rumors would have me believe. He cleared his throat. "It's good to believe in oneself." He raised a hand, trailing his thumb over my cheek. "What else do you believe in, Lady?" His eyes were dark, like a storm over the sea, and for a moment I forgot how to speak.

"Odin tells us to always seek knowledge."

"And Odin is like God?" He asked, his gaze falling to my mouth.

I grinned. "Yes and no. He is king of the gods, for a time. We make sacrifices to him, but also Frig, to look after our fate, and Freyr to bless our harvests, and Thor for protection. And one day Ragnarok will come and the world will be washed away to start anew."

"Like the great flood," he murmured, stepping closer. "A man was told by God to build a boat, to gather his family and two of every animal and prepare for a long journey. Then he flooded the world to give them a fresh start."

My hands rose to his chest, fingers pressing into the leather armor he wore, embossed with the shape of a cross. "I wonder how lonely it would be to be the last two people on earth. It seems like quite a responsibility."

Osferth made a low noise in the back of his throat, as if he was considering me. He stepped forward, backing me up until my legs met the table. "Lady?"

My gaze danced between his eyes and his lips, parted softly around a breath. "Yes?"

"I would like to kiss you now."

A heat rose up in me, from my fingertips and toes, melting inward, and I thought for a moment I might be glowing with it. "I think you should."

"Oh, thank Christ," he muttered, his large hands coming to cup my jaw, his lips crushing against mine. He wasn't as gentle as I had anticipated, as if he knew I wasn't gentle either and hoped to meet me in the middle.

His hands abandoned my face to grasp at my waist and heave me up onto the table before he stepped between my knees. He tasted sweeter than I imagined as I curled my hands in the blond hair at the nape of his neck, holding him to me. Wrapping me in his arms, wiry and lean, he stepped closer, pressing me back and holding me to him. If he let go I would fall.

I prayed he wouldn’t let go.

Osferth took my bottom lip between his teeth, biting down, his fingers digging into the meat of my waist and pulling himself forward into the cradle of my pelvis. I could feel him beneath the thick fabric of his robes, straining toward me. Without thought, I reached between us and cupped him, flexing my fingers around the outline of his cock, stroking and getting a feel for him. He moaned, breaking the kiss, resting his forehead against mine.

“Lady.” His voice was rough in his mouth, his breath warm against my face. “Keep doing that and I won’t be able to help myself from laying you over this table.”

I nuzzled at the cut of his jawline. “Lay me down then, monk.”

His eyes were dark when he pulled back, his lips pulled into a thin line as he regarded me. He nodded, more to himself than to me, before tugging at the laces at the back of my dress. I gasped at his hidden strength, lurching forward and catching myself against his chest. He pulled the laces loose and let the sleeves fall slack, leaning down to press a soft kiss against the skin of my shoulder. I attempted to make quick work of the clasps that held his armor on, rejoicing in the thud as it hit the floor. He tore the robe he wore over his head, dropping it beside the breast plate before helping me to wriggle out of my dress. When I was bare before him, he loomed over me, and my mouth watered at the fine cut of his body. He was tall and lean, all sharp angles and hard planes, and I ached to touch every inch of him.

Osferth tugged me to the edge of the table before falling to his knees. His eyes met mine for a split second before he leaned forward and licked a stripe up the center of me. The flat pass of his tongue left me reeling and I was torn between the desire to drop back and enjoy the sensation and the need to watch him, to memorize the way he looked as he tasted me.

Rough hands spread my thighs farther apart before reaching higher, holding the very center of me open, leaving me vulnerable. Osferth groaned at the sight, a small pained sound, before leaning forward and devouring me. He was messy, spreading the slick that had gathered, moaning when his nose dragged over that tight bundle of nerves and my back bowed off the table. He slid two fingers in easily, and I dropped my head back, my hands finding his hair and tangling in the sandy strands.

"More," I gasped, biting the word out from between clenched teeth. I felt him smile against me, a slow wicked curve of his mouth, as he pressed a third finger inside and stretched me open. His lips latched on to that spot that had me crying out and it took nothing else for me to find my release, my hips bucking against his face for more even as the feeling became too much, too sharp. I twitchted and shuddered as sparks danced over my skin and still he licked and sucked at me.

My stomach tumbled over itself when Osferth rose to stand over me, my slick glistening on his chin, the light from the fire painting him beautifully.

"I think I'd like to take you to bed now, Lady," he said and held out a hand. I accepted and let him pull me to standing, his hands capturing my face as soon as my feet were steady on the floor, his mouth catching mine in a feverish kiss that I could taste myself on. "You taste divine," he murmured against my lips.

I walked backward toward the bed, pulling him with me before turning and pushing him gently back against the furs. He dropped, resting his weight on his elbows. "I think I'd like to return the favor," I mused, my eyes unable to settle, too distracted by each ripple of lean muscle as he unlaced his trousers, lifting his ass to slide them down his thighs. Light hair was dusted over his legs, shining in the glow from the hearth. He was more lovely than any of the paintings the little church in town boasted as he watched me with hooded eyes. The mattress dipped beneath my added weight as I settled between his knees, taking his cock in hand and stroking. Osferth groaned when I tightened my grip.

I took him between my lips and he moaned, his hands finding the back of my head. Our eyes met and he licked his lips, sucking in a sharp breath as I took as much of his length as I could. He tasted like salt and skin, tangy against my tongue as I twisted it around the tip of him. His hips bucked and he slid down my throat. I couldn't stop the gag the motion triggered and he groaned again at the feeling. I let him hold my head still, sliding in and out of my mouth at a languishing pace, as if he were using my body to tease himself, to take himself to that edge only to pull back at the last moment.

"God above, Lady," he grunted, trying to pull back. He caught me under the arms and dragged me up his body, his hands finding the soft flesh of my hips and belly as he kissed me deep and slow. It was an easy kiss to melt into. Osferth laid me back against the furs and settled between my thighs, the hard ridge of his cock sliding through my slit. I angled my hips upward, hoping to catch him, to pull him inside. He pushed forward just an inch, the very tip of him barely breaching me. I thought I would scream. I thought I would break apart and scatter to the winds if he didn't fill me, if he didn't move.

"Don't be cruel," I whined. Reaching up, I grabbed the cross that he wore around his neck, using the cord to pull him closer.

His hand came down on my hip as I tried to shift, to take him deeper. "Hush, Lady," he murmured. "We have all the time in the world." He pulled back, only to tease me again with the barest hitch forward.

"Osferth, please. Please, I'll do whatever you want just - gods, please, fuck me."

I didn't know if it was the whimper of his name or the begging, but without warning, he buried himself in me and I thought I would break open around him. "Christ, you're so tight," he moaned, his breath coming in pants against my temple. "Feels like I'll split you in half."

His words woke something within me, something dark and hungry. "Do it," I whispered. "Break me. Do whatever you want."

Osferth growled, the sound like some great beast, as he bent his body around mine and began to fuck me in earnest. His teeth found my shoulder and he bit down, pain blooming hot and sudden as I felt the skin split beneath his teeth. He rutted into me and I was sure I would feel him for days, sore and aching and needy for more of him.

"Lady." The word was so close to a whimper that I couldn't help the moan it pulled from my chest, the way my nails raked over the freckled skin of his back. He kissed the wound left behind by his teeth before dragging his lips over my collarbone, one large hand clutching at my breast, bringing it to his mouth to pull my nipple between parted lips. This time he bit down more gently, just a scrape of teeth against sensitive flesh.

I was close, too close to warn him, to say anything. My back arched as I clenched around him, attempting to pull him deeper, to lock him within my body and never let him part from me. "Osferth," I panted, color bursting behind my eyelids. "Osferth."

"Christ, Lady, you'll be the end of me." His hips had lost their rhythm, grinding now, searching out his own release. "I want to fill you up, to feel myself spill in you."

The idea was delicious. I twisted my legs around his slim hips, unwilling to let him go. "Yes," I whispered, meeting his darkened gaze, his mouth falling open as his brows bunched in pleasure. I would make a tea in the morning to ensure there were no consequences, but I needed this, needed him. He kissed me, his tongue tangling around mine as he came, throbbing inside me as I clutched at him. "My Lady," he whispered against my mouth and I swallowed the words to keep forever inside me.

For a moment, we just laid there, our eyes meeting, darting away, and meeting again. Osferth dragged himself from the hold of my thighs and walked to the table, grabbing the clay pitcher I'd filled with water earlier in the day. He made his way back to the bed, dribbling some water over a cloth I tossed him and gently cleaning up the mess he'd made of me. After he set the pitcher back down and dropped the ruined rag beside it, he climbed back into bed beside me, dropping a kiss against my shoulder.

"I'm sorry for this." His voice was quiet as he traced a gentle fingertip over the wound in the shape of his mouth. "It's unlike me."

"I am happy to have a reminder of what we did tonight."

His blue eyes were soft, unsure, as they met mine. He swallowed, his hand coming to cradle the curve of my jaw. "Forgive me if I'm speaking out of turn, Lady, but I don't want just tonight with you."

"Forgive you?" My heart thundered in my chest, so loud I was sure he could hear it. "The whores of Rumcofa will mourn for weeks if I choose to keep you," I teased, grinning up at him.

"I think my involvement with the 'whore's of Rumcofa' has been greatly overstated," he pouted, rolling his eyes.

"Is that so?"

Osferth nodded, leaning forward to press his lips to mine. "It is."

I sighed. "I suppose you can stay then." He smiled against my mouth and something warm took root in my belly at the feeling.

He rolled on top of me fully, peppering kisses to my cheeks and neck and chest, settling his weight between my thighs as I laughed. "On my honor, Lady, you won't regret it."

#osferth x reader #osferth #the last kingdom #the last kingdom fic #my fic

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emmy-dekarios-bg3 · 17 days

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Heart of the Weave - A Baldurs Gate fanfiction - Part 2

Chapter 4 - The Bhaalists

Our food arrives so we sit back down at the table after several minutes of dancing and laughing. Oh, man, when Gale laughs, when he smiles so big, it gives me the best feeling inside. It’s as if a swarm of butterflies are dancing around in my stomach or an overwhelming sensation of excitement is bursting through the seams. Sigh. I love being the only people up here – outside of the staff, of course.

“Oh this food looks delectable,” Gale comments. “Thank you Jamus, for all you do. Say, how is your brother doing?” Jamus clears his throat and nervously smiles, and it worries me for a moment. Why is he acting so skittish? Is he normally like this?

“He’s excelling in his career as a full-time healer for folks who need it. Sometimes he travels to Neverwinter, but most of the time he’s in Baldur’s Gate. However, he will be moving out there soon enough… It’s bad right now, and it’s only about to get worse. I thought it was terrible before, when the Absolute was the biggest concern in the world. The horrors in Baldur’s Gate right now are about to spread like wildfire and everyone will either be affected or killed.” Gale and I pause, staring at each other in bewilderment and trying to comprehend what he’s talking about. I’m not surprised Baldur’s Gate is once again under fire, but also, I was hoping for continuous peace.

“What are you talking about?” I ask. “What’s happening?” My first assumption was the tadpole, but I know damn well that’s impossible. But what else could be “spreading”? Some sort of outbreak, maybe?

“Oh, you haven’t heard. My apologies. Well… It’s the Bhaalists. Those bloodthirsty, evil freaks who are human but act like monsters to please their God… Which, I know you’re aware.”

“Yes, we killed Bhaal’s chosen. Orin.”

“Yes, well, there have been horrible murder sprees. Worse than ever before. Several are trying to become Bhaal’s chosen to replace Orin. It’s not safe. People in the city are having to hide in the woods or travel to the mountains to escape. Still, some are found unfortunately. That’s all I really know. I hope someone intervenes, and I am begging to the Gods that Jasik makes it here safely. I’ve been worried. What’s worse is, I’m sure Waterdeep will be targeted at some point also.” FUCK. Just what we need. If it’s not one fatal issue, it’s another. I guess now really is a great time for Jenevelle, Gale, and myself to be immortal, though this isn’t an unusual predicament for us. Still, at least our baby should be okay. I hate that we had to find all of this out during a romantic dinner.

“Just keep your eyes peeled. They’re everywhere,” Jasik adds. “Though, who knows. Baldur’s Gate could be the only target.”

“You say that now, but eventually the city will run out of people for them to obliterate. The cult will, I assume, either kill each other or target other cities THEN kill each other. It’s only a matter of time before we find out.” Gale is right – it’s just a matter of time before everything turns to pure shit.

We make it home rather late, but Jenevelle is still awake somehow.

“I promise you both, I tried to get her to bed but all she wanted to do was play. What can I say, though? I’m Auntie Karlach.” I laugh as she hands me Jenevelle, who looks thrilled to see me.

“She definitely enjoys having you around, and why wouldn’t she?” I respond, smiling down at my baby. She begins reaching for me so she can nurse.

“So that’s what it is. She just wanted your goods! Little miss had me fooled. Anyway, I’ll see you both later. I’m exhausted and have to hang out with Wyll’s dad tomorrow. It’s a long story.” She doesn’t exactly sound thrilled, but I guess it’s important to hang out with your in-laws every once in awhile, right? I think since both of her parents are dead, she’s wanting to have some sort of bond with a parental figure of some sorts. She’s brought it up to me a few times in the past.

“Thank you, Karlach. You truly are a treasure,” Gale says.

“D’aw, friend! Don’t mention it!” As Karlach leaves, Gale sits down on the sofa next to me while I nurse Jenevelle. It’s apparent that he knows I’m worried about the Bhaal cultist situation, judging by the way he’s studying my face. In the past, they weren’t trying to kill Orin; she had them by a leash. Now it seems to be a fierce murder spree that’s getting worse by the second. How was tonight the first I heard about it?

“Are you alright? I’m so sorry if your night was ruined. I tried to make it so special for you… For your birthday.” His voice is dreary along with his puppy dog eyes.

“What? Oh honey, no. You made it more special than I could’ve imagined. Now that we’re immortal, birthdays aren’t a ‘thing’ anyways. With that in mind, you gave me an incredible night I won’t forget.” He smiles and takes my hand within his, rubbing my knuckles gently with his thumb.

“I just hope everything is alright.”

“Unfortunately, this issue going on in Baldur’s Gate is outside our control. It never stops. I guess the Bhaalists are nothing compared to what we fought before.” He sighs and hesitates, as if something else is lingering in that intelligent brain of his.

“Since they’re not being stopped, that means we may have to intervene.” I hate how right he is; who else would team up and do it? With us being the ones who defeated the elder brain, I have a feeling everyone will be depending on us anyway.

“What about Jenevelle?” I question, worried who would be watching her or how this will play out overall. “We can’t leave her with anyone unless they happen to be immortal, too. You know, in case of Bhaalists.”

“I know she’s immortal but I still worry about our baby. Man… My ghasts are flabbered. Let’s talk with the others tomorrow and see what they think. One of us may have to stay home with her.”

If it means protecting my daughter, immortal or not, I’m all for it; though, this means Gale and I will be separated from each other for a hot minute. I kiss Jenevelle’s forehead as she starts to become sleepy, then hand her off to Gale who hasn’t been able to hold her much today. I smile at her as she falls asleep comfortably in his arms.

I keep thinking about our friends left behind and if they’ll even be able to fight off these cultists alone. Halsin. Jaheira. Minsc. Even Lae’zel, who I assume is the Astral Planes still, but it’s worth worrying about. Then I come to remember that we have Withers – how could I forget about him? We’ll reach out to him to summon our friends bright and early tomorrow. My brain is racing from the stress and anxiety, causing me to have issues falling asleep. Gale however seems to be unbothered and resting peacefully beside me.

I get out of bed and head down the stairway to the kitchen so I can grab a glass of water and a little snack, thinking it might help ease my mind just a little. As I make it to the kitchen, I hear Tara’s little feet tapping around on the floor.

“Emmy? Darling, is everything alright?”

“Oh, sorry to disturb you, Tara. Just coming down to eat something. Ugh… Gods. I want to quit thinking about that damned murder cult.” She flies up toward me, her gaze holding onto mine.

“Truth is, they’ll always be around. There will constantly be evil lurking about, especially from those Bhaal worshippers. They will stop at nothing to please their disgusting God.”

“The thing is…they’re on a rampage. It’s like a competition to see who can become his favorite. The nastier, more disgusting murders, the better. His Chosen has been dead and there’s basically a breeding cow that’s been creating so many Bhaalspawn to worship him. He craves the attention, but also craves their deaths. All the cultists are killing everyone, and each other, so he can have a new Chosen.” The thought of all this is disturbing me, though it’s nothing new. I just can’t imagine how many are out there right now, and it’s only a matter of time before they spread to other cities.

“How are you going to stop them, dear? There’s only so much you can do.” She’s right. No matter what we do, there will always be Bhaal assassins or cultists on every corner. We can at least try to locate the source of them… The ‘breeding cow’ for instance. Maybe there’s more than just that, maybe there’s another source.

“When the sun rises, we’ll discuss the next steps with our companions. Either Gale or myself will stay here with Jenevelle.” I hear footsteps tiptoeing down the stairs, and I realize it’s Gale. He usually comes down around this time for a glass of milk and then back to bed, but this wasn’t exactly the case here.

“Baby, what are you doing up? Stress-walking in the middle of the night, huh?” He seems genuinely concerned, and he knows this entire situation is eating me alive.

“Yes…Yes I am.”

“Come back to bed and we can talk about it.” His voice is sleepy yet so gentle, and the smile on his face brings me a glimmer of joy. I smile back and follow him up the stairs to our room, where I basically tell him exactly what I told Tara. However, I started to fall asleep as I addressed my concerns and I didn’t even get to finish telling him everything that’s on my mind. Mmm. The numbness as the body falls into a slumber is so relaxing.

{find part 1 and 2 of my series on AO3! I will have 3 parts total. Check out the link below}

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #gale x tav #karlach #astarion #dungeons and dragons #shadowheart #dnd #professor gale #tav #halsin #lae'zel #Orin #ketheric #gortash

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czitara · 3 days

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Hello everyone.

Please say hi to my newest flatmate, Crowley.

You may not recognise him at once since he is currently wearing a Jester “costume”. He had recently spent too much time in south-west Germany and found out about one of the German’s finest traditions: carnival. Given that this particular tradition is advocating everything the Serpent of Eden is known for endorsing – gluttony, drunkenness, mockery, and all other kinds of sins that come with excessive partying – he had taken to it like a fish to water.

Granted, the costume wasn’t exactly part of the plan. But it seemed like a good idea at first to blend in with the crowds when trying to lure the already heavily sinning masses into committing more sins (sins that seemed to lack the usual creative spark the serpent would normally invest and instead strongly focused on more drunkenness and more badmouthing about clergy and aristocracy).

He was having the time of his life all while feeling very productive. Crowley was really besting the concept of “find a work that you like and you never have to work for the rest of your life”.

It all went jolly well until one day, the demon had to learn that his efforts had caused somewhat of a downward spiral amongst the humans and thus caught him the attention of the local count’s guards who apparently accused him of fomenting disobedience among the people and planning a coup to gain power over his territories. Utterly ridiculous and insanely far-fetched if you asked the Serpent. Could one no longer invent some innocent little rhymes about the beheading of a certain fopdoodle of a count and spread the word like wildfire without being charged with treason these days?

He changed back into his snake form for the remainder of the festivities to keep the local authorities off his back. But he was rather annoyed about being deprived of this particular pleasure that would now continue without him. So, he decided to keep having fun nonetheless, even just with his own company (the angel unfortunately – but not unsurprisingly – NOT supporting this kind of sinful festivities).

And until the morning of Ash Wednesday, if one was to stumble into an empty barn in a dark, abandoned alley near the celebrations, one would have found a bundle of colourful, oddly shaped rectangles curled around a keg of German beer. And if one would have bothered to take a closer look, every now and then, one would have seen a snake’s head appear out of the colourful bundle, dipping its head reverently all the way down into the keg and then emitting gurgling sounds of drunkenly hissed melodies, while the head was swaying rhythmically to the faint sounds of German folk music in the distance.

I found him like this and decided to take him home, poor snek. Jester Crowley will return for next carnival’s season.

PS: he will always vehemently deny liking German folk music although for some strange reason, his take on the matter will always, reliably, be subjected to thorough revision, once past his 5th drink…

#good omens #crowley #my own little headcanon that Crowley is a huge fan of carnival #wanted a snake sculpture for my flat to have my own Crowley to look at #came across this little gem and immediately loved it for it also ties in with my own personality #so needless to say german carnival culture is in my blood basically since childhood #i love the jester theme of it #sorry for the oversharing

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mlady-mimsy · 11 months

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"Alright, Presley.. I'm allowing you to leave early today only 'cause the crew said your darlin's been waiting up on you for an hour outside the lot. Enjoy the night you two." "..uh, yeah, thanks Mr. Peete. I'll see you again on Tuesday."

"'Sup, blondie.." "Harold..? That little sh--"

"You should have texted me earlier, you goof!" "Well I didn't wanna disrupt you at work.. It was packed in there,"

"Hey.. maybe please give me a heads up next time if you'll ever visit the diner again..? Folks around here spread rumors like wildfire.." "What rumors?" "..Nevermind.."

#sims 4 #ts4 #ts4 gameplay #ts4 screenshots #simblr #🦉🏜️#oh harold the oblivious goof

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carlosfruitsnacks · 2 years

Text

"if you're too shy let me know" - part 2

PART 1 || PART 3

summary:

— Carlos tries to fix the reasons why you find him terrifying. It wasn't an easy process but if it means making you less scared of him, he's willing to do it. You hear the news of how Carlos is behaving unusually, you wanted to know why the sudden change. But it turns out that Carlos becomes too shy to let you know how he feels about you.

genre:

— fluff

notes:

— female reader. I do not speak fluent Spanish and all of the Spanish here is translated from google, feel free to correct me if I got something wrong though I will refrain from using too much Spanish.

warning/s:

— none

a/n:

— alright folks part 2! i'm planning to make this into three parts, it will take a long time for me to publish the last part so pls bear with me. enjoy!

"Please don't touch me!"

Those last words you said to him kept replaying all over again in his head. Carlos has been stressed for days, finding out why you were so petrified of him and how he could fix the situation. Each time he gets too worked up and on the brink of giving up, the vision of your teary eyes looking at him always kept him on track. The Madrigal was determined to change whatever fuckery he has done.

The beginning of his plan was tricky; finding out why you were so afraid of him. Carlos couldn't hate himself more for mistaking it for shyness. The previous days, he decided to lie low. He hasn't seen your face for days too, it brought an ache to his heart. You're probably too horrified to go outside now because of him. Luckily, lying low was a great decision because, after some time, you did eventually go outside again. Carlos couldn't stand that you were out of his reach again.

He watched you interacting with the townsfolk. You were so polite to them. You sent people smiles and greetings whenever you would come around. Carlos barely acknowledged the people in Encanto. One day, he found you were helping an old woman carry her things to her house, it struck him oddly. You didn't even know the woman yet you helped her, he couldn't recall the last time he even helped someone in town. Carlos noticed you were hanging out with a bunch of children alongside Mirabel. You two looked like you were enjoying entertaining the children, not once did he see one of the kids frowning at your presence. This made Carlos scratch his head, he couldn't bear standing near the children, or else he'll just end up intentionally scaring them away.

For weeks, Carlos compared what he has observed so far. He made a contrast between what you and he would usually do in town. You greeted the townsfolk nicely, he hardly spared them a glance. You would help one of the townsfolk, he only caused trouble for them. And you're patient around children, he liked scaring the shit out of them. It took a while until Carlos went 'oh'.

It probably doesn't take a genius to find out why you're so intimidated by him. To put it simply, he treated the townsfolk like shit, and this causes the people to paint him as le diablo de pueblo. Of course, his bad reputation goes spreading all over town like wildfire and influences what you think of him.

Now Carlos found the root of it all, how will he fix it? For starters, he should change the things you found him scary for. The shapeshifter stood in front of his mirror, he wondered what in his appearance made him look terrifying. When he couldn't find anything intimidating about his looks, he went out in town and literally snarled when someone gave him a funny look. Carlos returns to his room and looked at himself in the mirror again, he pointed a finger at his reflection.

"What is wrong with you, pendejo?"

He said as he glared at himself. Carlos didn't mean to send that random villager a dirty look, call it a force of habit. Shit, he imagined if he accidentally did that to you, it would be game over. Carlos lets out a frustrated groan and collapsed on his bed. His bedroom door comes swinging open, he turns to see his twin giving him a confused look. He forgot that he shared a room with Camilo, the boy's always out of town helping and keeping the people entertained unlike him. For the first time in years, Carlos decided he wanted to have an honest talk with his twin.

"Ey, cabrón. I need to talk to you"

Carlos slightly winced at his own words, dios, he too treated his own twin brother like shit. Camilo looked at him with bewilderment before hesitantly sitting on his bed across from him. Carlos felt lucky that Camilo never treated him the way he would treat him, if only he knew how to be like him then he wouldn't be stressing out right now.

"What's up?"

"How do you...uh, how do you not treat people like shit?"

Camilo snorts at his twin. Carlos couldn't prevent face-palming himself, why the hell was he so weird? Fortunately, Camilo sees this as a genuine question from him. So, he stands and takes a seat right beside him.

"Just treat them with kindness, you know"

"How, genius?"

"Treat them how you would like to be treated"

This made Carlos think for a moment. Treat others in a way he wanted to be treated back? Witchcraft! Since when did the townsfolk ever do something nice to him?!

"Of course, you gotta treat them nice first and don't expect for them to do the first move"

It seemed as though Camilo can read his thoughts. Carlos bites back a snarl, realizing how his twin is making so much sense is making him feel uncomfortable. The shapeshifter huffs and crossed his arms, Camilo scoffed at this. Camilo didn't know why Carlos was suddenly asking these kinds of questions but he assumed he needed help with something. So, like the good hermano that he is, he decided to help him.

"I can show you if you'd like"

Carlos looks at his twin hesitantly, he figured that he doesn't have any other option. Therefore, he nodded.

Camilo takes Carlos around town. He wanted to demonstrate a kind act that literally anyone can do; helping someone in need. Finally, he spots a middle-aged woman struggling to carry her items on her own. Camilo tugs his twin's ruana and he pointed at the woman with his lips.

"¿Qué?”

"Try helping that woman over there"

"How?"

"Offer to carry one of her items!"

With that, Camilo pushes Carlos out in the open and towards the middle-aged woman. Carlos was nervous about doing this but then he's reminded that he's doing all of this for you. So, he sucked in a huge breath and approached the woman

"Ey, do you-"

"¡Ah! ¡Es el diabo!"

"¡No! Por favor-"

Carlos groaned and clenched his fist, biting off a curse as he watched the woman sprinting away in fear. He felt Camilo's hand on his shoulder and sent him a sympathetic smile. To be fair, nobody told him this would be easy. After all, people deemed him as the devil in this village.

"How about we try one more time, yeah?"

The shapeshifter glared at Camilo, but the latter was immune to his stare by now so he drags Carlos to another location hoping to find random townsfolk in need of help. Carlos exhales through his nose.

The things I do for love

For the past several weeks, Carlos has been the talk of the town however for different reasons. The conversation began when one of the townsfolk spotted Carlos helping an old man tune his guitar, the old man thanked the Madrigal profusely with no fear. It was incredibly peculiar, people gossiped that he was only doing it because he needed something from the old man. However, the townsfolk started thinking twice when a group of people found Carlos helping a bunch of kids get their ball that got stuck up in the tree. Carlos was noticed by the children shapeshifting into Luisa Madrigal and successfully retrieving their ball. It gave the town a good shock when Carlos even decided to play fútbol with the children.

Of course, some people were in doubt. They would say that it was only Camilo who shapeshifted as his twin brother, yet it was quickly debunked when the townsfolk literally saw both Camilo and Carlos helping a random man paint his house. People kept speculating why Carlos was suddenly being helpful, the majority were still wary of him because of his reputation. Others offered to talk about Carlos in a new light. The heated topic of Carlos Madrigal's sudden change of attitude made its way to your ears.

At first, you laughed. Until you saw Carlos hanging out with your cousin, the same cousin who was also petrified of him, well, not anymore considering they're currently laughing and joking around like best buddies. You watched from afar as Carlos says something inaudible to your cousin and makes the entire group laugh. You were blinking profusely and pinching yourself, wondering if this is all just a fever dream.

You went out to buy vegetables again from the market. For days, you saw Carlos everywhere. He was helping the townsfolk left and right, even playing with the children if he had spare time. You could've mistaken him for Camilo if it wasn't for his maroon ruana and signature smirk. Although the shapeshifter still pranked some of the locals it has become harmless, just minor pranks that could make anyone laugh. You guessed it was his sense of humor.

"Here you go, [Name]. Oye, have you heard about Carlos Madrigal?"

"Sí, I have señor. It's really...weird"

"I'll say, I saw the chíco helping a few of the vendors around here, I couldn't believe my eyes but oh well at least he stopped causing havoc"

You and the vegetable vendor exchanged. You take your requested vegetables and paid him. You took a small stroll around town, secretly hoping to spot Carlos because it seemed like you wanted to see one last proof of him truly changing before believing it all.

To your surprise, you do find Carlos helping another local, he was cradling a woman's baby and letting the tired woman catch a break. You watch in awe as Carlos gently cradled the baby, stopping it from crying. You wanted to believe that it was just Camilo since he's really good with babysitting, to your astonishment, Camilo comes walking by and giving his twin brother a thumbs up. Shit, so all of this was real. But why? You can't help but want to know.

You could ask Carlos personally but you were still scared of him. You started thinking of ideas. You were deep in thought while walking around, unbeknownst to you, your foot trips on a pebble. You gasped and waited for your face to crash to the ground until someone grabs you, preventing you from falling. You were about to thank that person but you noticed it was Carlos, you freeze on the spot.

"¿Estás bien?"

Carlos asked with concern. You grow speechless, you were slightly frightened but with the soft look on the shapeshifter's features, it slowly melts away.

"Estoy bien, gracias"

"Better watch what you're walking on, princesa"

Carlos says with a playful smirk, this makes your heart skip a beat. Hold up, that was uncalled for! And why do your cheeks feel warm?! You pout. Carlos was about to walk away but you stop him.

"Why...why are you suddenly being so...nice?"

The shapeshifter looks at you nervously. Honestly, he knew the answer to your question but he was too unprepared to tell you, afraid that he'll reveal his feelings for you.

"It's because..."

You watched Carlos as he runs a hand through his curly hair, you can see the sweat forming on his face. The drastic transition of the big and bad Carlos into this calm and helpful Carlos was so interesting that you had to know why he did it.

"Well...?"

"It's...complicated"

You narrowed your eyes at him, you didn't believe him. His reasons must be something big, you must know! You lean close to him, a bit surprised that you're no longer uncomfortable under his presence. Carlos gulps as he looked at you with unblinking eyes.

"What do you mean it's complicated?"

"I-it's something yo-you shouldn't know"

That only made you want to know more. Carlos Madrigal was hiding something and you can smell it. You raised a brow towards his way, the shapeshifter's face turns in all shades of pink. Hilariously, the tables were turned, no longer did he corner you but instead it was you who cornered him. He felt like he was about to pass out at any second now because of how close you were to him.

"You're hiding something, Carlos"

"No, I'm no-not"

You've never seen the shapeshifter so flustered that it was almost entertaining. Did the oh-so-scary Carlos Madrigal grow soft? You couldn't hold back a chuckle and a smile. But as you were about to further interrogate him, Carlos couldn't hold back anymore and accidentally shapeshifts into you. Both of your eyes went wide at the unusual scene.

Fuck! She'll know!

Eventually, Carlos breaks into a sprint leaving you screaming for his name. Camilo, unknown to Carlos, who saw the entire thing, stops him midway in his tracks.

"Hey hey, calm down dude, what's wrong?"

Camilo asks. Carlos was panting, his heart was banging inside his ribcage so loud that he can hear it in his ears. He really had no words on how to explain everything.

"Why did you turn as [Name]?"

Carlos gasps and immediately changed back to himself but it was too late, Camilo whistles and sends him a teasing grin.

"Ay, I saw everything, hermano. So, you're doing all of this for her?"

"Shut up!"

Camilo cackled at his twin who instantly glared daggers at him with pink cheeks. Carlos' crush on you was supposed to be a secret and now that Camilo knows, he's doomed.

"Why didn't you tell her that you were doing this all for her? [Name] sounded like she wanted to know"

"I...I wasn't ready, dumbass!"

"Or maybe you're just...shy"

In an instant, Carlos grabs his twin brother by the collar of his shirt and raised his fist. Camilo chokes on his spit, startled.

"¡Oye! ¡Cálmate, hemano!"

Carlos sighs and lets go of Camilo. He crosses his arms, as much as he agrees with his brother, he wouldn't admit that he was right. That he was too shy to let you know that he was doing all of this for you. The shapeshifter groans out of stress and buried his face with his hands. Camilo rolled his eyes playfully and gently smacked his brother's back.

"Hey don't worry, your secret is safe with me, Carlos"

"Mierda, what am I going to do now?"

"Just tell her how you feel, dude"

"But I'm too..."

"Shy?"

"Cállate, cabrón"

Camilo laughs at Carlos, the latter scowled at him but a small smile breaks on his face. Not to be sentimental, he was lucky he had a twin brother like Camilo. Sooner, the twins went home for lunch then all of a sudden, an idea formed in Carlos' head. He swiftly grabs Camilo's shoulder.

"I have an idea but...I need your help"

"Sure, but you owe me all of your seconds"

"You bastard....fine"

taglist: @nothearts4yu @vanevafu @irisia-ckzkb1109

masterlist

#encanto #disney encanto #encanto fanfic #encanto fanfiction #carlos madrigal #carlos my beloved #carlos madrigal x reader #carlos madrigal x y/n #carlos x you #camilo madrigal #jay's fanfics™️#jay's fluff fics™️

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darlingyanderes · 3 years

Note

Ok then so would would dragon trainer izuku for if his dragon darling ran away would he take them to a or his sanctuary? I think you should do more of these fantasy settings since you and the readers seem to be enjoying these we can just imagine the surrounding and everything! Also take care don't over do yourself 💚💚💚

Damn anon you just found the way to my heart, thank you for requesting this!! Sorry it took a while to post this, I might have gone wayyy too far with writing and ended up with something much longer than my usual work oopp I really enjoyed working on it and I hope you enjoy reading it too :D

Warnings: kidnapping sort of, manipulation, unhealthy mindset, graphic murder, blood, stalkerish behaviour

Word count: 2614

A safe nest - Yandere!Dragon Trainer!Izuku Midoriya x fem!Dragon shifter!reader

It had been quite a while ever since they ran away from the village. After weeks of traveling on foot almost non-stop, Izuku had brought her to a special place. With a slight blush on his face he’d explained that he saw this place when they were out flying one day and just knew he had to show it to her one day.

When (Y/N) first looked upon it, she almost wanted to laugh in Izuku’s face. They were standing in front of bare field, with harsh mountain peaks sticking out of the ground in front of them. It was cold, dry, and grey; she could hardly imagine that anything would be able to ever live here. Izuku looked at her expectantly with twinkling eyes, hoping that she’d love it as much as he did. To stay polite, (Y/N) simply gave Izuku a forced smile.

Izuku had grabbed her hand and dragged her along the rough path on the mountain, eventually leading her in a series of tunnels hidden inside the rock. It was so dark that (Y/N) could hardly see anything; she could barely keep herself from tripping over the stones in the cave. However, it was almost as if Izuku was raised here with how quickly he managed to maneuver himself in the twists and turns of the bowel of the mountain.

When they finally exited the tunnel again, (Y/N) could only gasp in shock and delight. The cave had led them to a peaceful meadow, filled with flowers and a small pond. A few trees littered the area, with wild flowers and tall grasses surrounding them. A small house was there too, made of wood and seemingly abandoned, but still in good condition. The tall mountain peaks surrounding the area almost seemed to touch the sun.

As (Y/N) was admiring the scenery, Izuku suddenly came up behind her and put his hands on her shoulders. “This will be our sanctuary, our new home. Do you see how tall the mountains are? You can fly here without anyone seeing you!”

At the word ‘fly’, (Y/N) quickly turned to Izuku with an excited smile. She’d been wanting to spread her wings for so long, but Izuku had told her it was too dangerous to reveal her dragon shape when they were still on the road. Walking around so much was so tedious, so slow; she just wanted to fly.

All Izuku had to do was give her a small nod. At his signal, (Y/N) dropped any bags she was carrying and ran out into the meadow, quickly taking on her dragon form. With one strong movement of her wings, she was already soaring through the sky. As she felt the wind lift up her wings and the sun warming her scales, she felt her heart jump with excitement. The simplest things really do give the greatest joy.

Being here in this beautiful meadow with her trainer, being able to fly whenever she wanted again; it was almost like paradise on Earth for (Y/N).

But unfortunately, there’s a price to pay for all good things.

(Y/N) was never allowed to leave the sanctuary. Izuku said that people would recognize her and try to destroy the life they created together; they’d rip her away from him and turn her into a war machine again. When (Y/N) protested, saying that she’s more than capable of defending herself and Izuku, he would get sad and ask if she wasn’t happy with their home. He’d clutch her hands and ask in the most pitiful voice if she hated him so much that she wanted to live with those barbarians again. It broke her heart to see him like this, so she stopped protesting altogether.

Most of her days were spent in close company of Izuku or soaring through the sky. However, sometimes he needed to make a trip to the local town to get them some food. Or well, ‘local’ isn’t exactly the right word; it would always take Izuku at least 2 days to get there and come back, since he only had his feet to transport him.

When he was gone, (Y/N) felt so lonely. She had no one to talk to; it was just her and her thoughts the entire time. Without anyone with her, the days crawled by way too slow. To make it worse, whenever she was alone, she always found herself thinking of the day she eloped with Izuku. The day she burned down what used to be her home, destroying so many innocent lives. Even the mere thought of him leaving her alone with those memories gave her shivers.

However, food always ran out. Today as well, Izuku was preparing himself to leave her alone, again. He checked for the last time if he had everything and turned around to tell (Y/N) goodbye. His expression softened when he saw her standing there, clutching her chest with tearful eyes. Softly, she asked: “Please don’t go. I don’t want to be alone.”

Izuku simply ruffled her hair and told her: “It’s okay, I won’t be gone for long.” When he saw that that didn’t help at all, he quickly added: “Hey, see those flowers over there? How about you make the two of us some pretty flower crowns?”

(Y/N) glanced over to look at the flowers. They were pretty and she’d love to make flower crowns, but she just knew the moment Izuku was gone, she’d be reduced to a depressed puddle. Izuku gave her a tight hug, pressed a quick kiss on her cheek and backed away from her with a reassuring smile.

He waved at her as he increased the distance between them, and exclaimed: “I’ll be back as soon as possible, I promise!” To add power to his words, he lightly jogged his way into the caves, to the outside world.

(Y/N) stood there, watching his silhouette move away until it had disappeared completely. Her heart sunk in her shoes. She’s alone again. When she turned to look back at the flowers, she grimaced. She didn’t want a stupid flower crown.

She wanted Izuku.

A thought jumped in her head, one that she had very often lately. It was a foolish one, but (Y/N) was still intrigued by it; what if she decides to follow him into town? She’s pretty sneaky when she has to be, and when he’s on his way back home she could just turn into a dragon and fly back when he’s asleep. He wouldn’t even notice she left the sanctuary. Besides, it would do her good to take a stroll outside and see other people.

(Y/N) looked at the flowers again. Should she really disobey Izuku’s, no, her trainer’s orders? With a spiteful huff, she grabbed her cape and threw it over her shoulders. She’s been stuck here for long enough. Disobeying her trainer is exactly what’s she’s going to do.

---

Following him as he traveled through the forest wasn’t so difficult. There were many rocks and trees to hide behind, and she was still able to trace his tracks. Even though she couldn’t walk leisurely and had to keep an eye on Izuku at all times, she felt relaxed. The air was different here, the ground too. (Y/N) saw plants and flowers she almost had forgotten about. She even saw other people, who kindly nodded at her as they passed each other on the path. A smile made its way on her face. No one treated her like a monster, like the people from her village used to do. It was almost like she was normal, one of them.

It was fun to see what Izuku is doing on his travels, too. (Y/N) saw him searching the forest floor often, collecting twigs which he’d stuff into one of his bags. He’s going to make a fire, (Y/N) thought, if he’d take me on his travels, I could light any piece of wood for him. (Y/N) made a silent mental note to help him out if he’s struggling with lighting his campfire at night.

It was almost dawn when (Y/N) looked at Izuku, who was inspecting the branches on the ground. She ducked away when she heard an unfamiliar voice calling out to him: “Stranger, it’s almost dark and you don’t have a fire yet. How about you join ours?”

Izuku was visibly startled, but walked in the direction of the voice nonetheless. (Y/N) sneakily crawled behind the trees and bushes, until she had a good view of what was going on. Two men were sitting around a campfire, while a woman with her young child were lying down, probably sleeping. The one that had called out to him, an older man with a grey beard, smiled kindly at Izuku and motioned him to sit with them.

The other man, who was a bit younger, said in a boisterous tone: “It’s dangerous to travel alone, kid. You don’t look like the type that can defend himself against robbers, or dragons.”

Both (Y/N) and Izuku jumped at the word ‘dragons’. Izuku asked him with wide eyes: “Dragons? They’re here?”

The older man spoke this time: “Haven’t you heard? Supposedly, some dragon started living on that mountain over there, and start burning down cities and forests. I heard entire villages turned into ashes because of that monster. I’m surprised you haven’t heard about it, I thought tales of that beast spread like wildfire.”

“I heard the king even sent an army to kill it, but not a single soldier returned,” said the younger man. “It’s best if you stay the night with us, just to be safe. We’re not strange folk, just a family trying to look for a better home. Our home was burned down by that thing, too.”

Izuku smiled with relief. “Thank you, I’d love to spend the night in your company. I gathered some wood to burn. It’s all I have, but please take it.”

He immediately grabbed a few dry sticks and handed them to the older man, who gratefully accepted them. “Good, we were starting to run out!”

---

Izuku chatted the night away with the two men, seemingly relaxed. (Y/N) on the other hand couldn’t stop thinking about what the men had said. They knew a dragon was living on their mountain? How did they find out? But more importantly, (Y/N) hadn’t left the mountain in so long. What on Earth could’ve caused those severe fires? Moreover, what was that about an army? Are these all just tall tales?

When the noise of chitchat had died down, (Y/N) finally snapped out of her anxious thoughts. The men had lied down to go to sleep. They had even given Izuku one of their spare blankets so he’d be comfortable, too. They all looked so peaceful, huddled around the fire as they slept. It made (Y/N) feel drowsy too. She laid down on the forest floor. Slowly, she felt her eyelids grow heavier and heavier, until she couldn’t keep them open anymore.

---

(Y/N) had anticipated a quiet night, but she was rudely awakened by the sounds of screaming and crying. She immediately shot up from the ground and gasped at the spectacle in front of her. The camp that was a peaceful site had turned into a chaos of blankets, household items, and blood. The two men had their throats slit open. Judging from the trail of blood, the old man had tried to crawl away, only to bleed to death a few meters away. The younger man was still alive, clutching his throat with one hand and powerlessly grabbing the ankle of his attacker with the other. The attacker had his back turned to (Y/N) so she couldn’t see him properly, but she was almost certain there would be a blood thirsty grin stuck on his face. The attacker had his blade lifted in the air, right above the woman’s body. The way her dress was soaked with red told (Y/N) that she’d been stabbed numerous times before she finally laid still. The child, completely confused and terrified, was crying loudly, pulling at its mother’s sleeve.

(Y/N) counted the bodies, but couldn’t find Izuku. Where was he? Was he killed, too, while she had just been sleeping here? How could she have been so lazy and cruel, to let him die right in front of her?

Inhaling deeply, (Y/N) tried to push away her guilt. It’s no use standing still now: if she couldn’t save Izuku, she should at least try to save the man and his child.

She jumped up from the bushes. Her claws and teeth were bared as she prepared herself to enter her dragon form and beat the crap out of whoever was in front of her, but she froze when she saw who the attacker was.

It was Izuku.

Izuku, unaware that (Y/N) stood there, had turned around and kicked at the man’s head to get him off of his ankle. It worked; the man fell to his side, let out one last gurgle, and never moved again. (Y/N) could feel the tears streaming down her cheeks when she saw Izuku being so heartless. She looked at the man, and then met eyes with Izuku. The blood drained from his face as he dropped the knife in his hands. He looked down at his clothes, which were covered in red.

(Y/N) backed away one step, confused and scared. How could he do something like this, her kind trainer? Was he really a coldhearted killer? Thinking back of the day they escaped their village, (Y/N) fell to her knees. He was always like this. That day, Izuku had pressured (Y/N) into burning everything down, to kill every last one of the villagers, because they hurt them and tried to rip them apart. As he spoke, his eyes showed no sadness, or reluctance; just excitement.

(Y/N) thought she was mistaken, that her dear trainer had a kind heart after all, but no. She wasn’t a monster; he was.

Izuku raised his arms to show he means no harm. With a soothing voice, he started: “(Y/N), this isn’t what it looks like. I had no choice but to do this, do you understand?”

As he spoke, he approached her shaking form. “I know I shouldn’t have kept this a secret, but I’m doing this for us! I’m the one lighting the fires, but it’s not bad. If I do this, then everyone will stay away from the mountain. We’ll be alone together! Just you and me. Isn’t that like paradise?”

(Y/N) looked at him in disgust. “Why kill people? Why destroy their homes? They would’ve stayed away from the mountain, anyway! You didn’t have to do this.”

Izuku suddenly dove on his knees in front of her and grabbed her shoulders, his fingers digging into her skin. His eyes were manic. “Otherwise it’s not believable! If an entire village burns down because of a dragon, there can be no survivors. You understand that, right? Right? I’m doing this to keep our home safe. Look, I’m going to burn this camp down, so people think the dragon is expanding its territory. That means even less people will be visiting us! Isn’t that nice? I’m doing a good thing.”

Looking at him in this state, (Y/N) was horrified. How could she have turned a blind eye to this side of him for so long?

Before she knew it, Izuku had wrapped his arms around her in a hug that more resembled the deathly grip of an anaconda than a loving embrace. With his face buried in her shoulder, he whispered: “A dragon should have a safe nest, after all.”

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere bnha #yandere bnha x reader #yandere boku no hero academia #yandere mha #yandere my hero academia #yandere izuku #yandere izuku x reader #yandere midoriya #yandere midoriya x reader #yandere deku #yandere deku x reader #ask

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sturdy-nerdy-stitchery · 3 years

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Okay! Here's the official post with the prototypes for rupee needle minders (or fridge magnets, if that's what you want!) The post that needs lots of likes, comments, and mainly reblogs (to spread the word more) before I decide to make this happen. And Two votes: what size you think would be best, and what color you would like to see, so that may be the top two or three or the ones I do first.

I am going to give this post 7 days. 2 weeks at maximum. To get as many notes, likes, and reblogs. Preferably, comments but mostly reblogs, to spread the word far and wide...with a yes, or your two votes. Because anybody can just like a post but that doesn't mean they want it. I need to hear it from the mouths of my followers. I need to hear your want, and your need. I need to hear your votes! I would LIKE to hear over 150 voices. Not 150, but more than 150. So that I know that buying metallics will be worth it, and this venture will be worth it.

I will also be checking the other post that I made to see if that gains more traction as well. Again, 7 days, no more than 2 weeks. For both posts to skyrocket.

And I will only reblog it myself 4 to 6 times. Once in the late Colorado morning, and once in the 2:00 a.m. ish hours, so that those around the world, and night owls, will have a chance to see this post. Other than that, it's all up to you guys.

And, if enough people want these needle minders, then I can order the metallic colors, because there will be enough want and need for these to make my purchases worth it...

But if only a few people want them, then I'll just open up pre-orders and I'll print some white ones, and sand and spray/brush paint them. Which means that they won't look nearly as good as if they were printed on gorgeous metallic, so if you want some really nice looking needle minders, and not some white ones painted metallic, then it's up to you folks to make sure this gets spread around like wildfire. Otherwise, I'll gladly sell some needle minders, but they're just going to be boring white ones that are painted and glaze coated.

But, if you're just looking and itching to have something to stitch or a new needle minder to have, don't forget to check my shop out at

Or you can find me on Facebook by searching @the sturdy nerdy stitchery

Or by searching @sturdynerdystitchery on Instagram.

(please go like and follow my Facebook and instagram! They're barely a year old and could use some love)

#needle minders #legend of zelda #cross stitching #cross stitch #embroidery #crafting #link #green rupee #red rupee #purple rupee #blue rupee #silver rupee #gold rupee #gaming #geek #nerd #zelda #rupee needle minder

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mittensmorgul · 3 years

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*cries in exasperated fanfic*

Can we PLEASE stop reblogging the Amazon Kindle Worlds warning post already? That post is EIGHT YEARS OLD.

Kindle Worlds SHUT DOWN AS A PLATFORM in 2018. IT DOES NOT EXIST ANYMORE.

THERE IS NO THREAT!

the post I keep seeing going around:I would however love to beg folks to use the xkit Timestamp feature that displays the original posting date without having to go hunting for it, or to at least do a double check with google before reblogging panic posts like this one. I’m tired of playing whack a mole advising people that posts like this aren’t relevant anymore, when they keep going viral over and over again.

For example, the post I keep seeing going around looks like this to me. Note the highlighted text:

People see “today,” but don’t stop to wonder if this post was actually *made* today. And clearly this one was not. I remember when this post was originally made. It was a HUGE deal, and spread like wildfire. Folks were rightly incredibly concerned about it.

It’s incredible how many people are willing to reblog warnings, and often that’s an appreciated thing when something is worth warning about! But two seconds of due diligence and a google search later would’ve saved an awful lot of angst for a lot of people over something entirely inconsequential. I can’t imagine why some troll went back years to find this ancient post, and what panic they intended to stir up with it, but apparently they have had their fun watching another era of fandom lose their collective shit over nothing again.

This is exactly why I always double check panic/warning/OMG IT’S THE END TIMES! REBLOG REBLOG AND SAVE ALL YOUR FRIENDS FROM THIS HELLMOUTH! type posts before reblogging them. In the current media age of misinformation and disinformation, I’ve found it’s a good policy.

#fandom problems #cite your sources

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sleepylixie · 3 years

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Dagger's Smile

\ 구미호/Gumiho is a Korean folk legend of a nine-tailed fox. It is said to have magical shapeshifting abilities, a knack for mischief and an almost seductive nature in some legends. The Korean gumiho is believed to have similar characteristics to the Chinese huli jing and Japanese kitsune.//

Gumiho-King! Chan X Gumiho! Fem Reader

1.4k words, Fluff/Action, Beware of: inexplicit violence.

Fantasy AU, Supernatural! SKZ, Gumiho! Chan from this fic from the In Umbra Universe! (Can be read individually, of course :D)

Request? : Yes!!

A/N: Hello my favourite bean! Thank you so much for requesting this fic, it really gave me a lot of perspective and inspiration to expand In Umbra even more!!! I hope you enjoy this lil offering, do let me know what you think!!

Drop me an ask! || Masterlist

People bowed low to Chan wherever he went-too low. He’d tried hard to get them to stop but to no avail. Especially after his decisions that protected them in the Faelight war, Chan had been hailed as a god-king, a hero of heroes, the saviour of Gumiho-kind. But he only did what they had crowned him to do. Why was he being celebrated this way? Except for her. Only her.

She’d meet his eye, the only person standing upright in a wave of people bowing at the waist. She’d always give him that smirk, the cheeky smirk he’d grown to be amused by, and slightly incline her head. Her hair would always fall into her eyes at the action and the second he blinked, she’d be gone. Despite his visits to the marketplace of Liska, the gumiho capital becoming a rare occurrence, Chan had always kept an eye out amongst his people for a quick sight of her smile. There was something wild about her; warm like a wildfire- only seconds away from sparking mischief and disaster. He wanted to meet her someday, talk to her, find out more behind that intriguing smile.

“You’re a girl, there’s only so much you can do.” A snarl worked its way up to your throat, wild and unrestrained. The twin daggers at your waist were itching to be thrown but you withheld the urge, only levelling a glare at your opponent- an older man, eyes narrowed in disdain. He looked positively fiendish, his skin stretching thinly over his skull, a cheap-looking sword held in a death-grip in one hand. “You’re just scared of getting beaten by a girl.” You sneered, baring your teeth- your elongated canines winked at the man, razor-sharp and lethal. You should rip his guts out of his body for his behaviour. You cocked your head, a provoking smirk dancing across your lips. “I’m right, aren’t I? Coward.”

Predictably, the man responded with a roar of his own, charging towards you. Rolling your eyes infinitesimally, you dodged the first swipe before nimbly getting under his guard, twisting his non-dominant arm behind him. He exclaimed in a blind rage, trying to swipe at you with his blame. Quickly kicking the back of his knee, you clubbed the man’s dominant hand with the handle of one of your daggers, triggering a yell of pain and dropping his sword. Without missing a beat, you kicked him in the back of the head, pushing him onto the dusty ground. “Next time, pick on people your own size,” you growled at him, kicking him once more for good measure. Ignoring the now groaning man, you turned around and marched towards the old woman who was huddled against the tree, gently helping her stand up. “I hope you’re not too hurt, ma’am,” you mumbled softly, smiling politely at the old lady. Her wispy silver hair floated across her face as she stood up straight. She smiled back at you thankfully, unconcerned by your slightly disheveled appearance- despite being dressed in the trappings of a proper young lady, you had an armored belt at your waist and your hair had been reduced to its usual mess. “Thank you, child.” “Why was he bothering you?” You asked, leading her back to the beaten track that led lack to Liska, your home. You’d been out picking wildflowers from amongst the trees on either side of the track so you could make flower crowns for the maids when you’d stumbled into the vile man picking on the poor old lady- your training had instantly kicked in. Growing up as the oldest free-spirited daughter of a well-off gumiho household, you were often faced with the unfortunate sexism that ran rampant in your city. You were a spark of flame, all quicksilver temper and righteous outspoken rage, the crown jewel of your household. Your father, one of the generals in the army, had no qualms in teaching you everything you knew, from basic swordsmanship and archery, even going as far as to gift you your precious obsidian daggers. Even though all gumiho were born with magic, you loved the thrill of a fight. “He stole my son’s magic.” A spark of rage raced across your system. Stealing a gumiho’s magic could leave the victim dead to the world, their body lost without a soul to anchor. The new king had placed stringent bans on it, pronouncing it a crime below that of lowlife scum. And yet… A choking sound next to you had you reeling back in surprise, a scream ripping from your throat at the sight of the old lady- her hands scrabbling at her neck as she was lifted off the ground, back arching in pain. It took you a split second to turn frantically in the same direction you came and you saw him- the bastardly man from earlier had his arm out, clearly aiming to hurt or kill the poor lady. Your temper swirled inside you, whetted instantly to a deadly edge and your body moved instantly, acting on reflex. Before he could try anything to hurt you, you lunged towards him, your daggers already in your hands-

And his hand was cut clean off his body, an unearthly wail leaving the man as he fell to his knees, clutching his stub of a wrist. An obsidian dagger almost twin to your own was stuck in a nearby tree, still vibrating from the force of the throw. Who’d thrown a dagger with such deadly accuracy that they’d managed to slice through skin and bone? You got your answer when a figure stepped into the soft afternoon light- your eyes widened. You’d recognise that face anywhere- the handsome sharp nose, the clean planes of skin marred by a scar down one eye. The King. // You sat outside the physician’s quarters- the royal physician’s quarters, watching the afternoon light fade into evening. The palace sat on the ledge of one of the hills that overlooked the valley Liska was built on, making for a picturesque sunset. The old lady you (and the King) had saved was not in danger, thankfully; she’d only sustained light bruises to her neck. You let out a sigh, your hands thumbing the daggers at your belt as your thoughts began racing. The King had asked you to accompany him to the palace, so you could stay with the lady until she was treated. Why had he asked for you? Was he unamused by your refusal to bow to him in the marketplace every time he visited? He didn’t seem comfortable with everybody bowing that low around him, it didn’t feel right to bow like that!! Why did you have to send him an impertinent smile every time? What were you thinking?! Your fingers tapped a nervous beat on your dagger’s scabbard. What should you do? Pretend you didn’t know what he was talking about? Maybe you could- “Y/N, yes?” You scrambled to your feet at the sound of the King’s voice, smooth and authoritative but not too loud. Dropping into a curtsy, you tucked a lock of hair behind your ear- curses for forgetting to fix your hair before an meeting the King. “Yes, Your Majesty.” You said quietly, unsure of looking him in the eye. “Why don’t you look me in the eye?” He sounded amused, warm- at odds with his intimidating aura. “You didn’t mind staring me down in the marketplace.” A rare prickling feeling heated up your neck; why wouldn’t the Mother Goddess choose this moment to remove you from this mortal plane? He’d remembered you- what were you to do? Shoring up what was left of the shreds of your bravado, you raised your head, smiling the same smile that you’d tossed at him all those times before. “You sound like you missed my pretty smiles, Your Majesty.” To your utter surprise, the King’s ears turned red instantly, betraying how flustered he was at your response despite the cool mask he had on- oh. The said mask melted into a shy smile, soft lips spreading wide until his dimples showed. “I’d be lying if I disagreed, darling,” Your eyes widened. Did he just- “And please, call me Chan.” // Taglist: @aliceu @rebecca-noona @decembermoonskz @straykidsownmysoul @malai-barfi @fylithia @soya-zz @stellarmonsterr (DM or drop me an ask to be added to my taglist!)

Network Tags: @inkidz @stayracha-net @districtninewriters @starryktown DO LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK!!- Elliana

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kaitosimp · 3 years

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Don’t be shy, tell us your pregame hcs!!!!

❤️

Asdfghjkl okay 🥺💜 Like I said, to me pre-game Kaito isn't a killer/bully/etc etc, to me he's just your typical foul-mouthed teenager who gets into fights sometimes and who everyone thinks is a violent psycho but in reality he's just an ill-tempered dude who likes to stargaze 😔🌠

sO YEAH LETS GOOO

-Kaito's one of the most feared students in school, people think he's a crazy violent guy who will beat anyone up who so much looks at the wrong way him due to previous fights he's been in

-That's a lie though, the only time he gets into fights is when he's provoked, or when people threaten him physically, or when thugs pick fights with him on the streets, but rumours spread like wildfire and the actual details always get twisted around to make him be the bad guy when in reality it's always other people who iniciate conflict, some rumours even claim he's a murderer

-Kaito's super strong so he's more than capable of beating anyone to a bloody pulp, but again, he won't do anything to you if you don't do anything to him, he doesn't like hurting people or causing harm but he will defend himself if he has to

-His reputation combined with his foul mouth, temper, and appearance, made him appear beyond scary and dangerous so most students steered clear of him, which makes him feel a little lonely sometimes but it isn't anything new

-In reality, he's just a socially awkward guy who likes to exercise, take naps, listen to music, and stargaze in his free time, he used to want to be an astronaut but he didn't think he'd get that far anymore

-If approached, he'll look at the person with a raised brow in clear suspicion and will throw out a few cuss words between words, but he won't do anything to them and will actually talk to them, there's a veryyyyy small amount of students who know this

-He's a casual danganronpa fan, he isn't crazy obsessed with it like some students at school are

-His grandparents were ill and the hospital bills were piling up, Kaito constantly worried about them since they depended on expensive medication and frequent check-ups and money was running out, this situation had been going on for about a year and it was getting worse

-He knew from previous experience that getting a job to help them with money was pointless since his employers were always terrified of him

-He had been thinking of what the hell he could do to help them when he heard danganronpa announced a new season, that they were looking for a new cast, and that there was a large money prize for winning

-So after a lot of consideration, he decided to take the plunge and audition, he might as well right? For once, his reputation would be beneficial in securing a spot and he'd do anything to make sure his grandparents were well taken care of for a long time, that money prize would be perfect

-He spent hours researching for his audition in his room, after watching audition tapes from previous seasons he realized the best way to go about it was to appear crazy and murderous to please the danganronpa folks, it seemed like they liked those types of people auditioning

-He knew he had to come off as just money hungry and someone who only craved the fame and didn't give a shit about killing people, he couldn't let anyone know he was doing it to help the people he cared about

-The thought of killing someone made his stomach twist but he couldn't dwell on it, and besides, it's all a show so nobody would really die

-He tried to make himself feel better by thinking that he didn't actually have to kill anyone, he could just live till the end and take the money as a survivor, but in order to get in, he had to play the part of a killer

-He told his grandparents about his decision and reassured them he'd be fine, he also told them to not pay attention to whatever happened in the show or whatever awful thing he did it cause it wouldn't be the real him

-He practiced his lines in front of a mirror over and over, to the point he even managed to nail down a crazed look in his eyes to really seal the deal

-As a kid, there was a phrase he used to say whenever someone made fun of his dreams to be an astronaut, "The impossible is possible, all you gotta do is make it so!" He got it from a popular superhero cartoon, but still

-On the day of the audition, he suddenly remembered that old phrase and he just laughed to himself at the irony of where he was now, what he was about to do, the lies he had to tell, how he had completely changed from that carefree kid who dreamed of walking on the moon to this talentless delinquent about to enter a killing game

-"Once I've got fame and fortune, I don't gotta worry about what's impossible..."

WHY DO I ALWAYS GET CARRIED AWAY WRITING- 💀 But yeah this is basically how I hc pre-game Kaito, and ofc I have my own hc's as to why he looked crazy and said that stuff in the audition tape so here ya go 😂

#kaito momota #drv3 kaito #danganronpa v3 #danganronpa headcanons #my pre-game kaito isn't exactlly a saint but he ain't a monster either

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thepearlyone · 3 years

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Artific-ial Desires

Pearly’s Notes: this one feels like one of my best ones yet! Not that this didn’t take a while, but it feels like I went through like nine or ten good, working drafts on this. Though it didn’t end up how I initially envisioned, the beast it has become is still so beautiful.

~for kiera~

(or, read it on google docs here! )

~~~~

The triangle-shaped corner store had recently sold- which wouldn’t have been notable in the slightest, except for the buyer. In just the past few days, grime was stripped away, windows were sparkled, new furniture rushed in, all at a breakneck pace- which was typical only for the most elite. And what’s more, the construction company was not the ‘ol reliable mom and pop’ kind, but a very specific one most people in the area didn’t even know. Therefore, someone had to be asking the gossip to spread like wildfire- and all signs pointed to the Lady Von-Quirandra.

The throng filled the entranceway to the newly refurbished boutique, packing themselves all into a doorway and front hallway meant for at least twenty people fewer. There was something about this kind of crowd that meant a spectacle- and Cassandra wasn’t about to miss out on one. It looked like she’d missed out on whatever the first showcase was, as the artificer had their back turned and was clearly answering a question while herding the crowd to another.

“Oh, they’re my own creation- you wouldn’t be able to even find anything remotely similar anywhere else, much less a shop that can match the level of intricate craftsmanship.” She muttered under her breath something about arrogance leading before a great fall, but the speaker’s bold claim definitely seemed apt.

Everything in the shop was dripping with quality, sometimes literally. The fine swirls of one of the displayed rings caught everyone’s eyes initially- the crowd even rushed forward in an attempt to prevent it from melting. Each ring in that display was set up and carefully lit (inside each box, of course) to appear as though it was melting, but each one was so solidly constructed that no one could say anything unpleasant about the effect.

“Now, onto another small invention of mine, I’m proud to finally unveil these-“ It was just a simple pair of diamond-shaped earrings. They looked impressive, but there really wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. At least, if there was, it wasn’t visible at the first blush, and the crowd was hurried over to the next booth quickly enough. However, Cassandra definitely wanted to ask about them, as if a one-on-one were even possible with such a famous artificer. She noticed the crowd thinning, as some of the younger members quickly fanned out to run home- after all, entering artificers’ shops were the kind of thing that mothers gave strict punishments for- and she could tell that a couple more of those leaving couldn’t have afforded the ‘intricate craftsmanship’ but wanted to have hope talked into them.

She tarried for as long as she could to look at the diamond-shaped earrings. The gems seemed to be simple studs, although she knew that a lot of concentration had been poured into the project. It was simple- but that made it all the more dangerous, as it could lure people into a false sense of security. The posts seemed to be a material similar to silver, but in the right lighting, Cassandra swore she saw it shimmer.

Ushered kindly to the next booth by everyone’s absence, she admired the plentiful array- sets, fully decked out in black velvet backing, laid out for the finest of society. These had to be personal commissions, things made for specific people in mind- either the artificer knew some slaves or nobles in need of their services, or perhaps they contacted THEM-

She chided herself on even considering that possibility- what the hell was she thinking? No noble-born family, especially not anyone the D’Antonias knew, would ever consider reaching out-artificing was dangerous business. No one ever cared how it happened, either, because if you stuck your neck too close to find out- it could end up adorned in the next showcase.

“Now, we’ve not yet gotten a private room, but those of you interested in our… New Acquisitions, please step this way. I’d be delighted to… guide each of you to them.” Even more fanned out, leaving a still rather sizeable crowd, with only a handful of them taking the opportunity to privately take an appointment.

New Acquisitions- the not-so-secret code word for slaves, either legal or illegal. Slaves had been quite controversial when first introduced a few decades ago, but now every family worth their weight in gold had them, and it was almost just another job. Slave applications were valuable and showed that you were selflessly serving another family- but there were still criminals. Unscrupulous individuals, people who might seek out an artificer to do the dirty work rather than submit their findings to the Justice Computer… Unhappy spouses, unruly coworkers, anyone who might be able to scrape up enough cash.

Then again, they could end up in the same position they wished for someone else- when trying to trick an artificer… It was always hard to tell with them. Everything was.

The lucky moment meant that she could go back to examining what she pleased- the simple earrings. Cassandra was very careful not to touch anything, but she drew quite close to them. The plain diamond-shaped crystals didn’t seem to hold any secrets, and as she carefully maneuvered the box into the light, it merely added to her curiosity. The earrings’ posts still sparkled slightly, meaning this had to be some sort of odd material- but it would only mean that Cassandra would have to ask. Why one pedestal and ‘proud to unveil’ for one pair of earrings that didn’t have anything odd to them?

~~~~

The individual meetings went by faster than anyone could imagine, with more of the crowd flowing out of either the showroom or shop- dazzled at the spectacle. Cassandra carefully slinked back towards the main group, acting as though she was admiring other pieces- a ring here, passing the couple of sets, until-

“Ah, hello there- I hope you’re enjoying the new opening?” She gasped, as they drew much closer to her. The fourteen people now left in the shop began to spread throughout the shop’s layout, leaving her in a far more intimate setting than she previously thought possible. The crowd cover had certainly been nice- but they were now milling up and down the aisles to gawk at the dainty jewelry, the tinkered toys, and the gorgeous gadgets.

Her attention snapped back to the artificer, who was now holding a curious device, one that seemed to be purifying the air. Cassandra had heard about them before, but never seen one so close, or so small- much larger versions were used in air factories. It only took her a few seconds to understand it- the small embroidered gas-bag at the back would fill, and slowly get puffed out by the user- and her mind dismissed it from any chance of danger.

She gave a polite yet faint smile, her mind racing to prepare some sort of platitude that would be enough to avoid detection.

“I certainly admired many of your pieces.” This was said with more than a little trepidation, which the artificer seemed to enjoy, bringing out a smile from underneath their goggles and wide-brimmed smithing hat.

“oh? So you know the rules…” And she did. She was very well-acquainted with them: her mother had even had a few friends whisked away under the Equal Rites, she’d seen them happily smiling with enchanted collars and enchanted rings… of course, for some of them she had been too young to understand, but now-

The slight puff of air brought her quickly back to reality, where the artificer stood next to her. They were clad in a soft shimmering gown, one that played off of their curves just like some of the rings on display. It wasn’t as frilly or poofy, and yet seemed to accentuate their body shape with an extra dimension- lending an odd effect to the gown. Cassandra wasn’t familiar with the material- as many artificers used off-world or off-dimension materials in their own creation… And now it was clear she was staring again, so she had to clear her throat and ask a question or else seem like a buffoon.

“Your own design?” This elicited a knowing smile, and a slow circular glide from their feet in a twirl around. This was to show the dress off, undoubtedly, and Cassandra delighted in it.

“No, unfortunately- but it was my material. The dressmaker from that forest with the slightly lewd name, in case you’re wondering how to get a matching set.” The reply almost seemed teasing, knowing- as if they could know her life story with just a glance. Again, not as if she’d be able to afford anything close to a single piece from the shop without serious considerations both conceptual and legal, financial (and legal) assistance, and magical ward prevention insurance. Even drafting up a contract would be far above her abilities and pay grade, but it could be the only surefire way to avoid any nastiness from anyone involved- especially an artificer.

“Hmm.. I would typically ask if there was one piece that stuck out to you, but I get the feeling I already know what it is. Given your silence… I’d like your name before I guess.” The remnants of the crowd had been slowly filtering out, unbeknownst to her, with one or two pieces being sold- the in-shop lawyer was already beaming and haggling with clients which Cassandra *had* seen- and the corner-store size lent the appearance of being quaint or familial. She had to admit it was a clever arrangement.

“I- sorry. Between the dress and the other pieces, I guess I’m a little starstruck. It’s not every day you get to ‘meet’ one, you know.” She hoped that her cheeks hadn’t blossomed into a blush- although there was no way to know for sure, only to hope and observe the artificer. She also hadn’t meant to any malice, although the hint of a second meaning was merely waiting to be picked up.

They were dangerous folk- many artificers had been caught with entire houses or brothels full of newly-rited thralls. Even tales of just one catching the eye of an entire town, using nothing but forks or pushpins or paperclips or slivers of metal and the inimitable inextricable tool that was their own wit, danced around the fringes of villages. Artificers were not to be listened to, a ‘boogeyman’ that assisted everyday life, that generously acted while greedily taking- in the same instance. Payment could very well be ‘your firstborn’ when dealing with them, and if it was… You’d best hope you weren’t an eldest child.

They took just another second to respond, a hand darting out from the gown. An immaculate white glove, made from plain cloth- which caused her internal tension to unwind quite a bit- which asked for her own hand.

“The name is Von-Quirandra, as I’m sure you’re no doubt aware. The shop is mine, recently acquired with… a little help.” The slight break made Cassandra take note, but she was careful not to advertise it as they continued-

“You may be wondering about the lawyer, he’s a family friend and came with the store.” She noticed a slight glint in the light, and this may have tipped them off because they continued, “Any and all gifts would be voluntary, non-contractual, and specifically not enchanted.”

“After all, I couldn’t expect someone to willingly accept things from an artificer without proper vetting or lineage- so you may view his, in the back office.”

They cleared their throat again, “As I requested, your name would be..?”

“Cassandra.” She didn’t know why she offered it so plainly.

“Cassandra…” The soft utterance, a shower of heavenly stars captured and smoothed into a ribbon off of which the word slid. They said it plainly yet perfectly, her skin crawling with delight and disquiet- but more of the former.

“Cassandra. Quite a lovely name. May I guess which piece caught your eye?” She nodded gently, as if trying to quiet and push aside the thoughts that yelled about the danger of even talking to an artificer.

“My first guess would be the Quirmian Collar- oh, I mean- the one on display towards the front of the store that you must have seen as you entered.” Truth be told, that was the one she’d missed, although the light was quite pretty on it. A highborn slave might wear such a necklace, so it wasn’t something Cassandra could have or even aspired to. No, their family didn’t wish for slaves- or wish to be them.

“Judging by the way you haven’t lit up like a firework, I’d say another one.. Allow me to try again- a private commission of mine? Perhaps the jade engraved set- I bet…” This time, their face moved even closer to her, as if quizzically judging her.

“No.” The terse response plopped out after another moment of silence.

“I see, Cassandra. Might I be permitted one last guess?” They matched her grin, and Cassandra hoped with all her heart that she didn’t appear to be blushing. With how both afraid and stimulated she was, her brain continued to rattle off reasons to leave, but her feet stayed put.

“The third and final guess is… Hmm. I don’t wish to waste it… I can rule one thing out, though- I know you didn’t request a private showing, so I’ll guess… the melting rings, using the sands of Terr-sichoré?”

Their previous smile began to curl into a frown. Their eyebrows, too-

“You seem to be much more of a mystery than you let on, Cassandra. Please.”

She blinked, unsure of what exactly to do and yet still recovering from the way they said her name.

“Please, tell me some more- what did you like? How might I know you?”

“I-uh, well, you know my name, and I come from the D’Antonia-“

“Oh!! Oh my goodness, Cassandra D’Antonia… I am humbled to have you in my presence.” Their crimson lips whispered the word with a soft affect- the perfect shiver traveling up her back in accordance with it. Her cheeks were now a beet-red. There was no chance of hiding it anymore.

“Thank you. I, erm, happened across the crowd, and…”

“There’s nothing to apologize for. The crowd seemed to mostly be there to be talked to, but I did get quite a few purchases. More than I expected, if I may confide in such a prestigious family. It’s a shame that-“

Cassandra turned, hearing rather loud footsteps, which revealed just how startled and absorbed in each other they both were. She swore that despite her own reddening cheeks, the Lady Von-Quirandra seemed to be blushing as well. They turned back towards the lawyer, and were handed a report- although it only needed a quick scan of her attention.

“Ah, thank you. If you could, I think we could use a little more privacy.” The Lady Von-Quirandra handed it back to the lawyer, who withdrew to the office again, but that comment stuck in her mind. It caused her to notice-

She was alone. With an artificer. In their own shop.

“So, Cassandra- I understand you are just a bit afraid. There’s plenty of reason to be… but for a lady such as yourself, I wouldn’t dare try anything unless you asked for it.” their gown swished gently as they drew within whispering distance, voice so soft and smooth.

“I would be wonderfully glad to show the D’Antonia house around. If there is anything you can think of…”

The answer leapt from her mouth before she had time to realize it.

“The earrings.” Realizing she’d said it out loud, her eyes widened in intertwined surprise and fear, her arm now moving up to clamp her mouth shut.

Their eyes flashed in shock behind the goggles, so much so that they removed them.

“Oh my… Cassandra… I didn’t think it would be you who might fall prey to them.” The reverence that they had for her name… Goddesses be damned, the artificer might as well be kissing her right on the-

Her cheeks were barely able to burn a brighter red, as the flame colors spread up her ears and forehead. Banishing the thought, she blinked- only to look into the Lady Von-Quirandra’s… beautiful eyes. Their visage was so soft yet toned, pale- but it had a moonlight brilliance to it.

Even more striking, they took her hand- guiding it back towards the pedestal where the earrings await. The simple box, with the inelaborate studs… soon, the answers would be revealed. But did she really want them?

Their cotton enveloped hand began to caress her cheek, sending a wave of calm throughout her body.

“Oh, Cassandra… such a pretty darling. You’d like to know what’s so special about these?” They cooed, their normally charismatic voice turning lower and smoother- almost sultry… She nodded, her eyes fluttering under their careful ministrations- as if they were massaging her oh so wonderfully.

“You’re right about them. They’re so very special. One thing I’ve been working on for, well, years. My little personal project. They’re made with specific people in mind…” Her ears (and arousal) perked up slightly, but the soothing hands made sure it was only barely noticeable as she relaxed further.

“First, I do suppose a quick lesson in magic is required.” Their soft little titter revealed a delight in Cassandra she hadn’t thought was requited- but must have been all along.. The workshop entrance was right near them, and The Lady closed the door- hanging up their goggles carefully and continuing to explain.

“Magic requires power- the ability to mold the natural world… A focus or desire for that change… and some method to focus both power and desire into a physical good. A contract.” Some of this was purred delicately into Cassandra’s ear, and some was simply stated- as the hat slipped off and was put away on top of the goggles.

“We artificers simply adore making contracts-it’s much of the sparkle that helps each of us enjoy life. Having even just one minute of someone else’s life… access to their own imbued power, to their thoughts, their memories… I find it delectable.”

“So… I’m sure that you wish to draw up a contract… properly. Before you try them on, and for you to understand what they can do. I’ll ask for an hour, minimum of ten minutes…” Their moonlight skin had turned to a soft flushed rose now, having clearly… warmed up to Cassandra. This line of thoughts seemed to meander aimlessly, ending with a soft bump into the word ‘please’- whispered pleadingly to Cassandra.

She certainly was curious. Although her fears about artificers couldn’t be assuaged, The Lady certainly had an interest in her. Her mind was racing, risks thrown aside- filled with the new possibilities and the desire of pleasing someone who was interested in her rather than her family’s wealth or status. The ideas whirred in front of her-

Well, the lawyer would be available to draw up the contract. She’d be able to give just ten minutes… It could possibly endear her to The Lady, and it would be a way to get a free piece- which could be given off to another for disenchanting and selling… it, just in case. Presuming it didn’t do anything first. At the very least, she could talk to the lawyer alone.

And if… if the Lady did harbor certain unsavory desires for her, it might be… beneficial to get in- get out- and then use the money from the other artificer she found to disappear. See? There was definitely a way to escape. She’d be fine.

~~~~

Entering the lawyer’s office was strikingly different, as everything was simultaneously neatly organized and a sprawling jungle of paperwork. Cassandra was able to find it oddly relaxing- far enough away from the Lady Von-Quirandra to be immune from anything untoward, but close enough to still feel her influence on everything in the room. The finely crafted chairs, the softwood desk, the carefully stacked papers…

“So- I’m sure you understand the typical thoughts most clients have. Rest assured, you aren’t alone here- I’m also here to help. I’ve got some preliminary documents drawn up, although I’d need your help and name to complete them.” He was about six feet tall, making him just a bit shorter than The Lady (but larger, and certainly more mountainous than Cassandra). He had an awfully kind smile, and definitely seemed to be groomed daily in order to keep up appearances- the suit was certainly professional enough. However, her eyes were drawn to-

“Sir… your ears..!” Cassandra was quite surprised to find a pair of earrings in his ears, not quite matching the ones out there in the box- diamond shaped, but certainly of a much plainer material. It didn’t shimmer in the light, but still had the same design…

He shrugged this off with a chuckle, taking them out and showing them to her. “They’re quite plain, unlike the ones Milady has been working on. I requested the first prototype as payment for a rather unruly client.” Seeing them alone, with no box, made them feel so… Unremarkable. Tame, almost.

“I assure you, they are not enchanted in any way. Shall we get down to business now?” She nodded curtly, offering her name- which elicited a soft gasp from the lawyer, but did not pause his diligent writing. The D’Antonia name was still weighty enough to cause a dent- even though they’d fallen on harder times lately.

“Well, with that finished… How much time are you willing to give her? Would you like to give the full hour, or just the ten-minute minimum?” She paused, faltering…

“Sir… I still don’t know what it does.”

“I know.” His response was curt and quick.

“And that doesn’t seem odd to you?” Her eyebrows furled in shock, examining his haptics, trying to find any sign that she might be given a ‘free’ preview. One where she might not be risking anything.

“Of course not. It’s part of the guarantee- you won’t be able to share anything about the piece with Milady’s competitors if you walk away, and if you’re given an enforceable contract, you’ll have to abide by it. On the other hand, signing this contract will also protect Milady from anything untoward, as you can see from these paragraphs right here.” Well, he certainly was a good lawyer- she noticed those paragraphs, and her own family’s training told her that it was close enough to airtight for her safety…

“I see. So instead of a trial period, this contract is a trial period, and after the ten minutes, it will come off. Is that right?”

“Yes. If you’d like, we can draft up another contract for purchase when you’re done.”

“We’ll see.” She finished with the four-page document, taking the offered pen. “How is the time determined?”

“I’ve got the proper stopwatch right here, Ms. D’Antonia.” He pulled it out of his drawer, presenting her with a silver stopwatch- and she instantly noted the protective runes carved in it. Not only would it be protected from any magical interference, but it would undo any magical changes if it surpassed 30 seconds from the allotted time. And since there would be no way for either of them to mess with it… She turned it over in her hands before setting it down and sliding the contract under it.

“Are you ready, Ms. D’Antonia? The time will start when you exit the doorway.”

Cassandra’s signature and smug smile was enough to prove that she was. She’d find out about these mysterious earrings, and prove to herself that all the danger about artificers was nonsense. After all, she had this contract to protect her.

~~~~

The Lady met her right as she opened the door outwards, leaning against the pedestal they’d placed. Their smirk was much more graceful than before, although it still betrayed a particular interest in her.

“You haven’t left the doorway yet… Cassandra.~” Yet again, their words were a fluttering crescendo of affection.

“Well, ‘Milady’, you do have me ‘captive’ for ten minutes.” They cracked open the plain box, nodding… Their artificing gear was entirely gone, as well as the cotton gloves- allowing Cassandra a look at their face. It was rather smooth, with only a couple of wrinkled scars, as well as the common ‘forge-tan’… and yet it was so gorgeous Cassandra couldn’t help but look at it.

They brought the earrings forth, allowing Cassandra to examine them even more, but teasingly pulling them away at the last second. Only once she extended her fingers… finally touching the object of her intrigue, turning it over carefully. The earring backs seemed to be new, since she hadn’t been able to take it out previously, but she quickly found herself slipping them into one ear, and then the other.

That must have been what was so alluring about them, their simplicity…

Her foot involuntarily moved forward at the same time she heard a very loud CLICK in both ears. She felt the earring backs twist slightly, something fall to the ground…

and her thoughts vanished. Everything except what was directly in front of her faded, her mind shutting down instantly, only able to track what They.. no, Milady, was doing. The clack of Milady’s heels felt so dull, only picking up when something slipped from Milady’s lips.

“Cassandra? Are you still in there?” Their voice seemed almost… afraid. Had she been able to think properly, she would have known it was tinged with their concern and affection for her.

The response was a dry, dull, almost robotic “Yes, Milady.” Her head could not move an inch, she was so deeply and utterly enthralled.

“You’re not uncomfortable, are you?” And now this demanded the reverse- she wasn’t uncomfortable, which was the oddest thing to her. Everything in her body must have been stiff, and yet she felt as if she were laying on a fine cushion.

“Good. I… I would like you to tell me of yourself. Then, how you feel about… me. Artificers.” Milady looked exhausted, but so wonderfully happy- their eyes welled with tears from seeing their invention so perfected. They pulled up an ornate chair in front of her, listening attentively with their head perched atop one of their palms. They seemed so at ease… resting into the chair’s natural shape and the armrests to listen to their little subject.

“Where should… should…” This quickly brought out a gasp, and widened eyes from Milady-

“Is Cassandra unsure how to refer to herself at the moment, with the backs in place?” It seemed like they had some experience with this, then- perhaps only one other, though, given their tone and reactions.

“Yes Milady.”

“Cassandra ought to use the third person for now. Understood? Nod, please, then continue from the beginning- starting with how she’s feeling, and then when she entered the shop.”

A gentle nod from Cassandra’s head, along with an odd feeling- bliss… presumably from following Milady’s order. Is this what artificers did normally? Have the thralls talk to them? If she could have a consistent thought, she would have tried to hold onto that one, but it was pushed down into nothingness by the calming backs.

“Cassandra is unsure what she is experiencing. She is… feeling odd. Although she stopped in to examine the spectacle, she felt… drawn to these earrings. Curious about them. There was something special about them.” Her speaking paused, as she saw Milady holding up one finger.

“Cassandra, please speak normally. Although… just a hint like this. Nod if you understand, and continue.” She felt her vocal cords unlock with a curt nod, utterly freeing her except for one- mouth finally able to move at her own will… but there was still the lingering urge to simply say what she was directed to.

“Cassandra is now aware of what might be so special about them. They make Cassandra unable to think. Unable to disobey, Milady.” At least her speaking had returned to normal- but that thought, too, slipped down into the void.

“I… Would normal Cassandra… How does Cassandra feel about me?”

“Cassandra feels intrigued, interested, stimulated, a-“

“I meant… Does Cassandra like me?” Now Milady was easily blushing, covering their face slightly.

After a very slight pause… “Yes, Milady.” was uttered from her lips, much of the affection she still felt dripping from her words.

“Does… Cassandra know how I feel about her as well?” This was clearly said with a tinge of embarrassment, but curiosity had taken Milady over.

“Cassandra feels that… yes, Milady may perhaps like her. Especially now, like this.”

“O-oh. I see. The attention is, ah, requited. Good! I, ah, believe we’ll move on now…” Milady was covering their head with their hands, clearly turning a deeper flushed red. Had Cassandra been able to properly recall this later, she would have noticed that Milady had turned away from her vision and towards a clipboard to assist hiding their shame.

“Very well… increase vision to normal parameters-“ which meant she could see again, able to focus and look around normally, “standard head mobility as well, and increase thoughts to twenty percent.” She…

Cassandra was thinking. In front of an artificer.

“Kneel.”

Cassandra was kneeling and looking up at an artificer. The sheer danger of what she had done pumped through her veins, but she could not bring herself to move any more than turning away her head slightly- but she didn’t want to look away from the beautiful Lady Von Quirandra.

“Oh my, that feels much better… more domineering, don’t you think?” This brought out an electrified smile, one that she stared at, enraptured and terrified alike. Their hand reached out to tip up her chin with a giggle, stroking her cheek and calming her in the process.

“Please… I know you’re probably afraid, but I don’t wish you to be. I wanted you to experience… this.” It was certainly blissful, not to have to think. Not to be a noble. Not to occupy oneself with all these preconceived notions, manners, passions, etiquette that had to be followed every second of being –

“Cassandra.” That name again, the one that made her eyelids flutter from simply hearing The Lady Von Quirandra say it. However, her eyes had to be open again- so they were opened.

“Please increase thoughts to full. How are you feeling?”

“I… what the hell did you do to me?” She couldn’t help but ask this in the kindest way possible, filled with a curiosity and a wistful arousal- this thought a balloon, inflating with potential.

“The backs have a certain enthralling power. One to eliminate potential thought, even as it happens, to allow for someone to control the wearer entirely. What’s more, they keep their wearers nice and obedient.” The Lady almost said this a little lustily, clearly enjoying the moment- but also playfully and reassuringly… looking down straight into Cassandra’s hazel eyes.

“I hope you understand their power well, now. At the end of your time, you’ll make a decision. It may not be today, perhaps in a few days, or weeks. I hope that you’ll choose to become my.. ah, well… ‘apprentice’.” The Lady went back to covering their face and peeking out at the kneeling figure below them

Her face contorted in shock, stretching in disbelief- before snapping back to a central position. Apparently her shoulders were not allowed to move much, but her face and brain were still ‘allowed’ to move. An apprentice? To an artificer? She couldn’t believe the offer- not least of which for being one of the least qualified people on the planet, but also for the incredulity of it all.

“I understand that you might be a-“

“Your apprentice, Lady??? I don’t know the first thing about-!~”

“Hush, please. I don’t wish for Ashton to be disturbed.” Her jaw instantly slipped shut.

“And that’s not quite true- I taught you ‘the first thing about magic’, and really all you would need to know. I… I need someone acquainted with selling. It truly takes a toll on me to do these kinds of shows. I can’t always afford the… showmanship to get up and move every time that a lot of nobles say I ought to show off my work more.” They slumped further into the chair, clearly sulking.

“I’m skilled, as you can see, but… not there, in that kind of arena. I’d rather be sticking my head in the oil jar than trying to upsell a ring that I didn’t even put that much effort into.”

Throughout this rant, Cassandra could see the lines on their face- clearly an exhausted person, much like her family- trying to get by the best they could.

“…besides, it would be… more than that.” The Lady cleared their throat before continuing, leaving a hefty dramatic pause.

“You could be free from your family name.”

The impossible idea spread through her mind in stages. Relief from the D’Antonias’ strict rules, the imposed penny-pinching, the etiquette- then that she would be with someone. Of course, the idea settled back in of artificers, and much worse-

“And you would only have one restricted hour at most. Maybe two, if we both feel… intimate that night.” This was said in increasingly hushed tones, causing an outbreak of blushing on both of their parts.

“Are you… proposing??” The Lady squealed in shame, answering-

“O-oonly to be my… girlfriend! I don’t want you to get any ideas of that just yet, but… I think I’d like that as well… I could make us a pair of rings, later…”

The flustered D’Antonia heiress couldn’t help but keep opening and closing her mouth, flabbergasted by the idea that seemed

“Keep your mouth shut, dear. Just… think about it for when you’re done. Which is… hm, soon. Too soon…” The backs pulsed gently with enchanted power, and the carefully wound silver pocketwatch chimed with one minute left.

“Return to thrall mode, just for now- but keep the vocal modifiers.” She felt her thoughts be blasted into the wind again, her body relaxing even further, letting go of all the tension inside her…

“Just keep relaxing, little Cassandra… I want you to understand what this is like. How blissful this can be for you. How obedient you can be made. And that this is an offer unlike any other- one where I will use you, remold you, make you into a new beautiful piece- one worthy of your own name. No more silly D’Antonia to hold you back and keep you inside a gilded prison.”

The Lady seemed much calmer, maintaining that more dominant affect, but… if Cassandra were able to think, she’d know it was as if a heavy weight had been lifted from each of them. For the few seconds, they smiled and admired their thrall, four cheeks blushing in turn.

~~~~

The timer went off, returning Cassandra to her normal thoughts instantly- though it left her blushing as red as the first dress she’d ever worn to her family’s elegant ball. She rose, tentatively, under the gaze of The Lady. They slightly rose and-

It was just her instincts acting now, her base fear- and she ran out of the small corner shop into the rain. The thump of her heart pounding in her ears drove out the surprised shriek of the lawyer, the splash of mud against the cobblestone street, leaving behind only the knowledge of which street to take- left, right, center down the path here…

Cassandra arrived at the manor steps, and collapsed to her knees… a relentless sob had taken hold of her, tears and rain both streaking across her face.

Truth be told, she hadn’t realized she’d even stolen the backs until she’d taken them out of her ears, and yet- the urge to still treat them with care was there. All of this was happening so suddenly. There was so much that she just… didn’t know. Her own feelings were a jumble of butterflies, swirling and fluttering around inside…

She tried to sort them, to herd them- the way her mother had taught her, giving them all names and pretty colors, making them butterflies in her own mind-[herbarium].

But as soon as she’d plucked one out from the swirling horde, visualizing its soft iridescent wings, picturing the soft caress of Their glove again-

no.

Her legs crumpled weakly, pleading that no one would see her like this, so disheveled and undone by… the new shop.

She’d return to the shop tomorrow, return the backs, leave a note of thanks just to be… cordial enough, and just… flee. Run away somewhere. Get away from this ancient town and its horrid artificer.

The offer was just too good to be true.

~~~~

Some time later…

“Ah, hello, Missus Val-Periton! May I escort you to the back? Your pendant is ready.” Cassandra beamed happily at the couple that had strolled into the shop, her own earrings sparkling in the multitude of framed lights. The new verdant dress she strolled around the shop in was almost the shop’s mascot- with the new sign painted with a cartoonish version of it draped alongside the logo. Business was booming, especially since a familiar face could help ease the fears about artificers.

Her Lady Von Quirandra was placing the finishing touches on the precious pendant, and the couple was more than glad to finish paying- the pendant sparkled brilliantly in Her Lady’s hands. As the couple strolled out of the shop proudly, Her Lady gently brushed their hand against her cheek, repeating with the softest possible murmur the most precious words they both knew.

“You did so well for Me, Thrall Cassandra. I love you.” And with an idolizing sigh, Cassandra D’arvon Quirandra returned them.

fin

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bazypitchandsimonsnow · 4 years

Text

Mages Don’t Meddle

Rating: M

Genre: Angst/Mild Fluff

Word count: 16091

Summary: In a world where magic users must fear each other, Baz Pitch, a British born hex hiding in the 19th century American southwest, is just trying to stay alive. But when he meets a fellow British hex, his world is turned upside down in the most awful, amazing ways possible. PLEASE READ FIRST AUTHOR'S NOTE!!!!

Read on AO3

AN: Alright some of you may know that my favourite book series of all time is The Hexslinger Series by Gemma Files. It’s a gory but brilliant horror/dark fantasy weird western trilogy about gay cowboy wizards fighting Aztec gods. (It's also where my AO3 username comes from). I've been writing this AU on and off for like two years now lol. So when I saw this event, I saw it as motivation to finally finish it. And I did! Idk how many people are gonna like this, considering the obscurity of the books. The mythos is a bit complicated so here are the basic rules of the Hexslinger world:

1. Magic users exist, called "hexes" or "hexslingers” by most English speakers. They’re commonly known of and feared by some humans because of their immense, usually unstable power. Their magic is usually called "hexation" and a common descriptor for anything to do with them is "hexacious." Being a hex can either be passed down from parent to child or appears randomly. Most are children of a hex man and a human woman as pregnancy for a hex woman can be very risky to mother and child, but it's still possible.

2. Hexes aren’t usually born having magic. Their powers manifest at some point later in their lives except in very rare circumstances. For women it usually appears after their first period, while for men it’s usually after some sort of grievous bodily harm, e.g getting hanged or beaten. Before manifestation, some hexes show no sign of magic at all, while others have hints like perfect aim or weirdly good luck. It depends on the person and their power level.

3. Hex magic varies between people based on personality, culture, family history, and power level/type. For example, an experienced Chinese born hex with refined power will have a very different kind of magic than a newly manifested American born hex with more chaotic power. (That’s literally just from the original books lol.) Even hexes similar in multiple aspects can be completely different in the way their magic is expressed.

4. The only universal trait between hexes is that they all have the urge to feed off each other’s magic. They’re like magic vampires (wink wink). If they get too close to each other, they have the immediate urge to absorb the other's power and kill them. It’s completely instinctual and very hard to resist. Hence why hexes can’t be around each other. Or, to use the common phrase from the universe, “mages don’t meddle.”Okay that's the basics. There's A LOT of other stuff but I think that's all you need to know for this fic imo.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: So there's some period typical racism scattered around due Baz being brown in the 19th century American south. It's not too harsh imo but I still want to warn people. I hope I handled it alright, considering I'm a white af Canadian Irish-Jew, but if I didn't I'm very sorry. There's also a bit of period typical homophobia at the start. The closest I get to slurs is the use of "red" and "Indian" in reference to Indigenous people, "queer" in a negative context, references to sand because Baz says he's Egyptian, and Baz being called "darker folk." I felt it would be disingenuous to not include bigotry of the past and pretend things would be all okay for a queer POC like Baz. Especially since Hexslinger itself has major themes of homophobia, racism, and not being accepted in the majority of society. A few mentions of suicide, self harm, and torture too in relation to hex powers emerging too, which is also major in Hexslinger. The series itself is pretty brutal and dirty with lots of bigotry, blood, guts, and death. So those elements have gotten in here. There is some flesh burning stuff but I don't think it's that graphic, feels pretty typical for Carry On imo. Hopefully this all works well/makes sense.

As always, big thanks to Raegan of @carryonmylovelies Now with that all out of the way, enjoy!

———————————————

I gingerly take a sip of my whiskey. It's a horrible rotgut shite, but there’s worse stuff out in the wild west. This Slipfoot Joe’s seems to be okay by my now very, very low standards for this area.

“Well well, if it ain’t a pretty red boy,” the man behind me croons. His voice makes evey inch of my skin crawl.

I let out a deep sigh. I’ve been expecting this, but I’m still not pleased. “Piss off, arsehole.”

“Oh! Didn’t know Indians could sound English!”

“I’m British Egyptian, you twit.”

The man leans on the bar, smiling wide. It’s easier to count the few teeth he has than guess how many he’s lost. “What brings your sandy ass to our great country?”

The Call. The unending Call that signals all of us to come here.

I take another long sip. “Your gorgeous face, obviously. How much do you charge? I’ve heard American men are cheaper here than in England.”

The man reels back scowling. “You think I’m some queer?!”

“Well, I assumed so. Considering you were just flirting with me, a man.”

He snarls, whipping out his pathetic little pistol. The barrel shakes nonstop. “You got some nerve, boy!”

I finish the whiskey and delicately place the glass rim first on the filthy bar. “And you’re a racist bastard. You don’t see me getting all pissy.”

The gunshot happens in slow motion for me. I don’t even need to turn. I simply hold one hand in front of me and let my magic pour from me like a dragon’s breath. It curls out in front of me, a circle of blacks and charcoal greys and burning scarlets. Every hex’s magic is different. Mine is like a constant roaring fire, always threatening to consume me.

The bullet hits the shield with a tinny clink. Racist Man is frozen with wide, terrified eyes. I turn to him, orange and red reflecting in my grey eyes.

“You- You’re... a hex?!” He splutters.

“Thought that was pretty bloody obvious. Now go, before I drink your blood.”

Racist Man and his buddy scamper out of the tavern. I let the force field dissipate, crackling and popping in the air like a dying campfire. Joe, the bartender and eponymous Slipfoot, sighs as he cleans another glass.

“You know,” Joe says, “I’ve met other hexes. They’re stupid reckless assholes but they ain’t ever drank blood. Just suck each other’s magic.”

I chuckle. “Well they don’t know that, do they?”

“No, lucky for you. What’s a Brit like you even doin’ here anyway?”

My mouth presses into a thin line. I envy him. He can't hear The Call from that damned Hex City. I heard it all the way in Washington, and before I knew it I was on a train southeast. The only reason I haven’t actually gone to the horrid place is sheer stubbornness.

“I’m a hex. Where else would I be going?”

Joe freezes. He stares at me with more concern than fear. “I’d be careful, son. Those hexes I met? One of them was Reverend Rook himself. He’s beyond bad news, ‘specially with that heathen goddess by his side.”

“I know.” I trace my finger on the old wood, trying to focus on that instead of the ringing in my head. “But what choice do I have?”

———————————————

1867, two years after America’s bloody civil war, and it seems they’re about to be plunged into a new one. Except it won’t be slavery versus abolition this time, but humans versus magic.

The news has spread like wildfire. In the final days of the war, a confederate soldier and unofficial chaplain named “Reverend” Asher Rook was sentenced to hang for abandoning his regiment. But he survived, and the suffering of the ordeal caused his hex powers to emerge. Rumour has it one Bible verse from his lips can level an entire town. Rook decided to use his new powers to steal and murder his way through the west, aided by his ruthless gunslinging lieutenant (and rumoured lover) Chess Pargeter.

He should’ve been just another hex outlaw for those American Pinkertons to take down. But somehow, a mere month ago, Rook made a pact with an Aztec goddess. And together they’ve created New Azteclan, or Hex City to the common man. According to the magical homing signal I hear, that every hex hears, it’s a place where hexes can lose their insatiable urge to feed off each other’s magic. We’ll no longer have to be loners by nature, picked off one by one by humanity. We could be together. We could be safe.

But at what cost? Nothing in life comes without a cost. I know that too well. My magic cost me my home, my family, and a good part of my sanity. I’d do anything to not be a danger to others anymore. And the possibility is right there. All I need to do is go further south and cross the border into Mexico to reach Hex City. But once I do that, there’s no going back. The temptation of the Call will be too strong. And whatever price The Reverend wants, he’ll get it from me.

I sit at the fire, chewing on some absolutely horrific jerky. I’m trying to focus on the flames instead of the voice in my head. I’m not sure whose it is. Maybe Rook’s, maybe his witch goddess’. It doesn’t have a discernible tone, just sort of an indistinct everyman sound, or a thousand voices speaking the same thing. Either way, it’s very annoying.

Come, it whispers. Come seek out Ixchel, the Mother of Hanged Men. Come stand before Her priest-king, to offer up your service. Come to build the First City of the Sixth World- the world of wonder, the world of power. Come, and join New Azteclan.

“Shut up, shut up, shut up!” I shout into emptiness, slamming the side of my head with my fist.

“I haven’t said anything yet,” someone replies weakly.

I bolt up. My magic roars to life inside me, a fireball forming in the palm of my hand. “Who said that?!”

The man slowly steps out of the darkness. He must be no older than myself, with his young, round freckled face. He has curly bronze hair, capped by an old second hand cowboy hat. His brown leather coat, plaid shirt, riding boots, and jeans are all filthy with desert dirt. A horse with saddle bags stands behind him. His blue eyes are wide and nervous. I notice a smell on him. Like green fire and smoke, with a strong scent of something brown and sweet. He smells like something I would gladly eat.

He’s a hex.

“Don’t you dare come any closer, you prick,” I say between gritted teeth. “I won’t hesitate to burn you to a crisp.”

The other boy shakes his head. “I’m not here to drain you. I...I just wanted to ask for some help.” He sounds British like me, but more rough and nervous, stumbling over his words.

“Yeah, right. Do I look that gullible? ‘Mages don’t meddle.’ We’d all drain each other dry if we were given the chance.”

He sighs heavily. “Well, of course I want to by instinct, but I’m not going to. I was just wondering if you had any food. All of mine got stolen by some angry humans.”

I consider just turning him away, or draining his magic and leaving his dried out corpse for the vultures. But he looks so desperate. How long has this young man been out here alone? My aunt had always warned me to be wary of all other hexes. We’re a bloodthirsty species, Basil. Never trust another hex, ever. Not even me. But I’m not my aunt.

I sit down again. “Fine. You can have some jerky. Just don’t come too close alright? I’d like to keep my magic and soul where they are, please.”

The man smiles (he has a nice smile) and sits opposite me at the fire. I throw a bag of jerky, and he catches in one hand. He shoves it in his mouth like a ravenous animal.

“So,” I say, “what’s your name?”

“Simon Snow,” he rep;ies, mouth still half full. “Your’s?”

“Baz Pitch.” Simon chuckles a bit, and I frown. “What’s so funny?

“Well, Baz Pitch is a pretty ridiculous name.”

“No more ridiculous than Simon Snow,” I snap. “What, were you named by circus performers?”

“Maybe. Not sure, actually.” Snow looks at the fire, but it feels like he’s looking right through it, his gaze very far away.

“Why’s that?”

Simon shakes his head. “Hey, are you going to Hex City?”

I huff, blowing some loose, dirty hair out of my eyes. I’m too tired to stop him from changing the subject. “I don’t know. Are you?

He shrugs. “Maybe. So far I am. The stories and Call do make it sound so wonderful.”

I scoff loudly. “Of course they do. Rook wants people to come. Then we’ll get there and be sacrificed to his bloodthirsty goddess. That’s probably what happened to Pargeter. No one’s heard from him lately, according to the locals.”

“But we’ll lose the hunger! What if the Reverend just wants us to be safe? Y’know, as a kindness to his own people.”

“No one does anything out of kindness, Snow. Least of all hexes.”

“You gave me food out of kindness, didn’t you?”

I glare at him over the flames. He shrugs with a faint smile. Fuck. He has a really nice smile.

“I’m going to sleep,” I mutter. “But I’m putting a shield around me. Touch it and you’ll be burned alive. So don’t get any ideas about taking my magic.”

Simon throws his hands up in innocence. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

I lay down on my pallet, throwing up my force field. The crackle and hiss of magic around me distracts from the beautiful mage no more than seven feet from me. Whom I’m not sure I want to kiss or kill. Maybe both.

———————————————

I wake when the sun's centre in the sky. I’m breathing, so this Simon Snow hasn’t drained me dry. That’s good, I guess.

I sit up bleary eyed. Snow is passed out on his own cot, drooling profusely with his mouth wide open (mouth breather). He’s put up his own shield, of course, (at least he’s somewhat sensible). It sort of looks like an electrical explosion, white bolts constantly combusting around him in bubble form. He smells so powerful. It’s taking all of my willpower to not hurt him. To not submit to my basic hex desires.

I take my sweet time to pack my things and douse the fire pit, secretly hoping Simon will wake up before I run out of excuses. Luckily, with a very loud snort, Snow bolts upwards. There’s terror in his eyes, and his breath is uneven and shallow. I know that look. I’m no stranger to nightmares myself.

“A good morning to you, Snow,” I say.

Simon lets out a long breath, waving a hand to dissolve his shield. “You didn’t kill me.”

“And you didn’t kill me. What a miracle.”

“I’ll say. Are you leaving?”

“Obviously.”

“Where to?”

I sigh heavily. “Well, my map says, there’s a town southeast from here. I haven’t been there before but it probably isn’t too bad. I was going to hide there for at least a bit.”

Simon picks at his nail beds, even though they’re already ragged and bloody. “Can I...can I come with you? I haven’t been around anyone in so long, y’know. It’d be nice to have someone to talk to”

I look at him with the most neutral gaze I can muster. “Are you going to kill me?”

He shrugs. “Haven’t killed you yet, have I?”

“There’s still time.”

Simon stands up, brushing the dust off his pants. “Alright, then I’ll make myself very clear. Baz, I’m not going to kill you. I’m not going to fight you at all, alright?”

I must admit that I’ve been lonely these few months in the desert. Hell, I’ve been lonely for the past few years. I’ve actually missed the company of others. But it’s not like humans or hexes want to be around me. Except for this one, it seems. Maybe this wouldn’t be too bad. If we don’t kill each other first that is.

“Alright, fine. Just don’t try anything or I’ll burn you from the inside out.”

Simon keeps smiling. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

We mount our horses and ride off. I try to keep my eyes ahead instead of on Snow.

———————————————

“I can’t believe the food here,” Snow says. “It’s so much more spicy than in the North.”

“We are closer to Mexico, Snow,” I reply. I’m trying to figure out our route, while also listening to Snow when he’s more than six feet away. The hunger is manageable from this distance. Mostly.

“Well, yeah, but it’s so insane! Why can’t the north people get some spice from here? It would make their chicken more tolerable. London street food was awful but at least it had some flavour!”

That makes me snort out a laugh no matter how much I try not to. Snow grins at me, and his face is literal sunshine. Why must he be so perfect? It’s not fair. “London street food? You mean fish and chips? Those aren’t half bad, if I’m remembering correctly.”

Snow’s tawny face gets a little pink. He rubs the back of his slightly sunburnt neck. “Y-Yeah, they weren’t too bad. Just...other stuff was terrible...”

“Like what?” It’s not late at night now. I’m less inclined to let his dodging go. Call me crazy, but I’d like to know about the man I’m travelling with.

“Um...” He looks down at his horse’s neck. “I-I lived on the London streets, literally, until I was old enough to work for room and board. Finding anyone who would house a hex though, that was a challenge.”

His laugh is tinny and hollow. My heart, or what dark horrible mass we hexes have in place of one, twists at the words. I wish I was surprised. His story is all too familiar.

“You don’t need to be ashamed,” I say firmly. “We all have our own rough pasts. It’s practically required for hexes, in my eyes.”

Snow doesn’t look up, but his (pretty) plain blue eyes flick over to me. “Really?”

I nod. “Yes, of course. Hexes are usually shunned and harmed. Finding one who hasn’t been in a dire situation is more rare.”

“Have you met a lot of hexes?”

“Some. Mostly, I’ve heard stories. Far too many are like your’s.”

“Is your’s?”

My grip on the reins is so tight my knuckles are going pale. Memories rush through my head no matter how much I want to stop them. The darkness, the pain, the fire, then the stench of burnt human flesh, all capped off by years of trying to survive on my own.

“Unfortunately, ye-”

“What the fuck?!”

Simon’s screech is ungodly in volume and tone. His horse lets out a similarly panicked bray. She bucks up, but can’t get very high with the red vines tangled around her legs.

“Oh fuck,” I hiss. I try to pull back my own horse, but his legs are similarly wrapped up. The vines circle up and around us. I kick and stamp them with all my might. The blood red flowers look like the gaping mouths of monsters.

“What the fuck are these things?!” Snow bellows. He tries to rear his horse back, but nearly throws himself backwards off his saddle instead. “Fucking shite!”

“Don’t do that, Snow, it won’t help!”

“Then what should I do?!”

“Just stay still!”

Thankfully, Snow does as I say. Not thankfully, I’m not sure what to do. I know that human blood gets rid of the Weeds, but even if I count as human in this regard, you need a relatively large amount of it. So unless I want to pass out, I’ll need to think of something else. But what else can curb evil bloodthirsty Aztec plants?

“Baz!” Snow’s horse pancis the more the weeds wrap around her, which makes Snow panic in turn. He looks at me with desperate wide eyes. “Baz, do something!”

Oh, fuck it. I’ll solve this the way I solve my other problems.

I reach deep within myself, down to the flames that burn in what’s hopefully my soul, or at least what hexes have instead. I grab that power and let it out through my arm. Fire roars to life in the palm of my hand, and I unleash the full force of it on the Weeds. A tidal wave of blackened-red flames engulf the plants.

“Jesus Christ!” Simon shouts. The plants don’t burn per se, I’m not sure they even can. But they still shrink away from us. I keep pushing more magic out until they Weeds a good distance away.

“Run,” I say, “now!”

Snow and I both wrench our horses 180 degrees and run like the wind. We ride fast and far with no destination, but we keep each other in sight. Only when my pulse is no longer hammering in my ears do I start to slow down. Snow follows, and eventually we stop near a large tree. All four of us are breathing hard.

“Bloody hell,” Snow says. “W-What the fuck were those?”

“Red Plague Weeds,” I reply, dismounting my horse. “They’ve been popping up all around here. No one knows where they come from, but we’re all pretty sure they have something to do with Rook and his witch goddess. Just like every other bizarre thing nowadays.”

“How come I haven’t seen them before in the towns?”

“Because the way to get rid of the Weeds permanently is blood, Snow.”

Snow’s eyes go wide with horror. “Blood? Any blood?”

I sadly shake my head. “No, only fresh human blood. I’ve heard a bowl full collected from the townsfolk is good enough. I don’t even know if hex blood counts. No one’s ever tried, as far as I know. We’re extremely lucky we got away.”

“So I gathered,” Snow sighs. “Now what? We’ve gone a good way backwards now, if I had to guess.”

“Agreed. We’ll have to try and move around the Weeds. If we’re lucky, the town will still be reachable.”

“No one has ever called hexes lucky.”

We both laugh a little. Sometimes laughter is the only way to deal with our horrible existences. I pull the waterskin out of my bag and take a deep, long drink. “Let’s stay here for a moment, though. That blast took a lot out of me.”

“Y-Yeah, that makes sense. Um, I’ll just...”

He turns his horse to the side, trotting away from me. My stomach drops out. Where’s he going? Am I going to be alone again? I’ve only been with Snow for one day. That’s nothing compared to the last two years I’ve been on my own. But now I can’t imagine going back to that crushing, never ending loneliness.

“Heading out, Snow?” I keep my tone neutral, holding back the desperate tremor that threatens to bleed out. “Suppose I’ll see you around, then.”

Snow whips his head around. If I were a more hopeful person, I’d say he looks even more panicked than when we were tangled in the Weeds. “W-What? No, I was just gonna go a little further away...”

“Do I smell that bad?” I probably do. Hygiene is not a priority in these parts.

“No! The opposite, actually...” Snow looks to the side, a little red on his face. “You used a lot of magic before. I can still smell some of it. I, uh, want to keep my promise...”

Oh. Right. I should count myself lucky that he didn’t drain me the minute we stopped. “Yes, yes, of course, makes perfect sense.”

“Unless...you want me to go...”

I gulp down the massive lump in my throat. “Do you want to go, Snow?”

Snow scratches his neck. He points his thumb to the side. “I’ll be waiting over there, until we’ve both cooled down. Alright?”

I would never admit how much relief that brings me. “Alright. We’ll set off again in an hour or so.”

“Okay.” Snow trots over to a good distance away. His brown, sweet smell still lingers in the air, but it fades just enough for me to rest properly. I sit back against the tree, drinking a good portion of my waterskin. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Snow doing the same. I try to not watch him. But it’s very, very hard.

———————————————

Nightfall hits before we reach the town. Snow can’t ride very fast, and I’m still more than a bit drained. So once again, I have to sit opposite the man who will most likely kill me soon.

He fidgets endlessly, picking at his nails and sleeve. It’s infuriating. He gnaws on the jerky like a crazed cat or something. I huff and shake my head. Snow looks up at me.

“What?” he says through a bite.

“Do you ever stop moving? We’ve been sitting here for over an hour and there hasn’t been a single moment of stillness from you.”

Snow snorts. “I don’t see how that affects you.”

“It’s annoying.”

He snorts again, but there’s a small smile now too. “Maybe this is the real reason hexes don’t interact. We're all arseholes.”

“That is hardly a hex thing, Snow. I’ve known humans and hexes alike that I can’t tolerate.”

“Am I one of them?

I hope my face doesn’t flush too hard. “You’re still here, aren’t you?”

He chuckles quietly and goes back to eating his jerky, with far less fidgeting this time thankfully. We sit in silence for a while. I keep sneaking looks at him, then tearing my gaze away every time. The firelight makes Snow’s tawny skin almost glow and his bronze hair sparkle gold. He’s a constellation of moles and freckles. He’s a gorgeous mess. Just looking at him, I can almost forget that we’re supposed to be enemies.

“What part of England are you from anyway?” Snow asks through a mouthful of dried out meat.

“Hampshire. Though if you asked the people here, they’d say I’m from Buckingham bloody Palace.”

Snow throws his head back laughing. It’s a ridiculous, wonderful sound. “Damn true! I’ve lived on the streets of London for the past ten years and an American asked me if I’m related to the bloody queen! They have no idea about accent differences. They think every Brit is royalty.”

I freeze. Snow’s laughs slowly subside. He must notice the utter panic in my eyes. “You lived on the streets of London for a decade? That long?”

He pulls in, curling his thin body in on itself. This Simon is a hex like me, a terrifying being filled with unimaginable power, yet right now, he looks so...small. “Well, not the whole time. It’s been on and off. I found some places to live for a bit but they never lasted. Thank God for magic. Or thank the Devil, if the humans are right about us.”

He chuckles nervously. I shift uncomfortably in my spot, trying to hide the way his laugh makes me face heat up even more. “I guess so. It’s taken care of me since-”

There’s a crack. It’s small, far off, almost indistinguishable from the regular sounds of the desert, but it’s there. My aunt always said I have the ears of a bat. I swing my head around.

“What is it?” Snow says.

“Hush! I think I heard something.”

Slowly, I stand up, crouched over with my fists clenched. My magic sizzles and sparks inside me, begging to be used. I see Snow stand too at the edge of my vision.

“Die hex scum!”

The man launches himself out of the darkness, jagged knife in hand. He knocks me flat down to the ground. All the breath is forced out of me as my back hits the sand.

“Fuck!” I wheeze.

I push at him with both arms, thankfully keeping my pretty face out of his slashing range. He writhes and struggles like a rabid wolf. His dirty crazed smile, missing most of his teeth, looms over me. I recognise him.

“You,” I growl. “Did you really follow me all the way here from Slipfoot’s, you pig?!”

“Die!” He says that like it means absolutely anything, like I haven’t heard it a hundred times before.

Racist Man has no technique. He just screeches and flails with his knife. Aunt Fiona’s words come to my mind immediately. “Every self respecting hex needs to know how to defend himself, Basil.” She said just before pinning me to the ground in one move. I hook my leg around his and flip him onto his back. He gasps and lets out a rattling cough. I hover over him, knee on his chest, pinning his knife hand to the ground.

“You don’t deserve to live, you sand demon.” He spits at me, splashing against my cheek. I flick it off with ease.

“Such an original opinion.” I feel the fire blazing in my gut, threatening to consume myself and everything around me. “I should scorch off all your skin.”

“Course you would. All you hexes, just filthy murderers. No wonder y’all are fleeing to Rook’s heathen paradise. Your kind don’t belong around civilized folks.”

I growl again. First he despises my skin colour, then he thinks he knows anything about hexation. This bastard, so stupid and ignorant. We’re only monsters because we have to be. Because men like him come at us with knives and guns and nooses. There’s no holding the fire back. My hand heats up around his wrist. He screeches as his skin sizzles under my fingers. He drops the knife, but I don't stop. All my rage pushes out through my hand and onto his increasingly scorched skin.

“Get off me!”

I turn to see Simon, struggling against another man. His fingers spark and sputter uselessly as he pounds against the guy with a hand around his throat.

“Better save your man over there,” Racist Man hisses.

I give him one last good death stare. I see him shiver just slightly. At least he has some good sense. “Run fast and far. If you come near us again, so help me God I’ll melt through your entire brain.”

The look of terror in his eyes is enough of an answer. I jump off him and run towards Snow.

“Oi! Off him, now!” I roar.

The other man turns to look at me. He has the same crazed look as his friend. “Or what, you piece of devil shit?!”

“Or this.”

I turn to the fire. With only one hand outstretched, my magic wraps around it, and pushes my power into the very core. The flames shoot nine feet upwards, illuminating the vast dark in blinding light. I turn back to the terrified human. With one swing of my arm, the pillar slams into him. He’s sent flying in a shower of flames and skids on the ground, tossing up a cloud of dustin his wake. I start to march towards him. But Snow throws up his arm to stop me.

“Let me,” he growls.

The tone of his voice stops me in my tracks. Simon stomps towards him, his entire hand now covered in tiny sparks like fireworks. His assaulter sits up, panting heavily.

“You better run now,” Snow says.

He sneers. “Don’t tell me-”

“GO!”

Snow’s magic explodes like a fucking bomb. It’s a bolt of violent and powerful energy that hits the assailant square in the chest. He flies back even farther. I stumble from the sheer force of it. The magic disperses as quickly as it appeared. Snow is panting, bronze curls still staticy with stray sparks. The human scrambles and runs away into the darkness.

We’re left there, breathing hard in the darkness, the embers of the now dead fire our only light. Simon tries to pull out the crackling electricity still clinging to his hair. It curls around his fingers and won’t dissipate no matter how much he shakes his hand out. Finally, I find my voice again.

“That was...”

“Awful?” Snow mumbles. “Yeah, I know. Half the time my magic doesn’t work, the other half it explodes. Pretty fucking annoying.”

I turn to look at him properly, still trying to dust off the little sparks. “No, it was incredible. I’ve never seen magic that powerful, or beautiful.”

Oh fuck, why did I say that? I’m going to explode myself any second. Simon freezes, then turns to me. His lovely plain eyes are soft. Half of his mouth pulls up into a smile. My pulse is pounding in my ears. “N-No one’s ever called it beautiful before. And...no one’s tried to save me either.”

He starts to reach out to me with his spark kissed digits. I see the little bolts pulling towards me like I’m a magnet. My own magic flares to surface, reaching back towards him. Tiny flames from my fingers curl around the lightning. And a part of me, that horrible instinctual part, desperately wants to grab his hand and add his beautiful, terrifying energy to my own until his body is nothing but an empty husk.

I take a large step away, hands behind my back. Simon does the same. His eyes are wide with terror now. We both know how close we came to giving into temptation.

“We should go to bed,” I mutter.

Snow nods furiously. I speed walk to my side of the dead fire. We both lay down and pull the blankets to our reddening ears. The only sound for ages is the desert wind whistling through the cacti. Until Snow decides to speak up again, God help me.

“Baz?”

“What, Snow?” I snap. I can’t talk to him anymore, it’s too damn painful.

“Have...Have you ever actually fully drained anyone?”

Oh. I wasn’t expecting that. The question hits me in my heart. All that comes to mind is my aunt’s face as I saw her for the first time in weeks. Her happiness turned to utter horror in seconds. The memory still aches deep inside me. I can almost feel that horrible hunger when I first manifested. I squeeze my eyes shut and take a deep breath. “No. But I’ve come close. You?”

Snow pauses too. I can hear his shaky breathing clearly. “I had a hex friend back in London. Penelope. She was really good at magic, like you, so she tried to help me. We could only see each other for an hour a day for safety’s sake, and it worked for awhile. But one time, my magic got so out of control that I came this close to draining her.” He makes a loud sniffing noise. I hate imagining the tears I know are rolling down his face. “She told me it wasn’t my fault but I didn’t care. I didn’t want to hurt her. Next day I got on a boat to America. That was almost a year ago. I’ve been alone ever since, and it’s awful.”

“Is that why you want to go to Hex City?”

“Yeah. I mean, I just want to be able to have some choice, you know? Not make choices because of this power I never asked for. Don’t you feel like that?”

I think about my mother, who lost her life because of what we are. Or my six weeks of torture by that madman. Or how I had to run away from my family in fear of what I’d accidentally do to them.

“Yes,” I whisper, closing my eyes, “all the damn time.”

———————————————

We ride leisurely under the blistering sun. The desert has melted into more of a hot, grassy plain. Surprisingly, the climate and terrain actually gets less tortuous the further south you go in this awful state. I’ve only gone this far south once before. The Call somehow gets even stronger here. It threatens to fill every nook and cranny of my brain, but I beat it back. No disgraced Confederate chaplain or Aztec witch woman gets to decide what I do.

Snow is mumbling to himself about it being too hot. My head is whirring with a terrible, awful idea, but it won’t go away. My eyes keep drifting towards his beautiful face, and my mind keeps thinking of his beautiful magic. I got only a taste of the endless, consuming feeling of it, and it was exhilarating. If only he could control it.

I groan. “Snow, stop your horse.”

He looks at me confused, but does as I say. “What is it?”

“Get off. I’m going to help you with your magic.”

His eyes bug out of his skull. “What?! Why?”

“Because as incredible as your magic can be, I’d rather not have you explode when you sleep ten feet away from me.”

It’s a convincing lie. Honestly, I want him to be able to protect himself. I don’t know exactly how long it will take to get to the south, or what could happen before then. Simon might’ve been killed if I wasn’t there. And I don’t know how long I will be with him.

I swing off my horse and Snow follows. We walk out into the empty plateau. He shuffles his feet nervously, chewing at his nails.

“Stay here,” I say.

I walk out and place my old empty flask on a cactus (it’s rusting anyway). Snow looks at it confused. I gesture to the metal bottle, then put my hands behind my back. “Hit that with a blast but avoid the cactus.

“O-Okay...” I watch his throat as he gulps. God, I want to touch that throat, I want to touch everywhere. But I’ll kill him if I do. It makes me hate my magic even more.

Simon raises his hand and takes aim. Small sparks dance between his fingers. One by one, they begin to increase. A small ball of lightning collects in his palm. Snow curls his fingers in, but they seem to be struggling. The ball starts to grow larger and Snow clenches harder. With little to no warning, a lightning bolt shoots out and hits the side of the flask. A blackened mark is left in its wake, but that’s nothing compared to the cactus. A massive chunk has been blown out of the top. It’s charred remains lay strewn on the gras.

“Fuck,” he groans. “Sorry, I was losing control, I had to let it go. Would’ve been much worse if I didn’t.”

“That’s alright, Snow. You technically did hit the flask.”

Snow scoffs, running a hand through his beautiful, sweaty hair. “Sure, I guess...”

I pluck the flask from the half destroyed desert fauna. Another horrible idea is coming to my mind, and I just might be mad enough to do it. “Maybe you need a greater motivator for staying in control.”

“Huh?”

I place the flask on my hand and hold my arm out to the side. “Hit the flask, but not me.”

Snow goes wide eyed again and inhales sharply like he’s been kicked. “A-Are you serious?! You just saw what I did to that cactus, right?”

“Well, you’re going to have to be accurate, unless you want me to end up like said cactus”

He pulls at his curls anxiously. The tiniest of parks fly off the ends. “I don’t know, Baz. I don’t want to hurt you...”

I try to ignore my rapidly beating heart. It’s been so annoying this past week, trying to get what it can’t have. I just flash a smirk at him. “Well, I believe that you won’t. Care to prove me right?”

A red colour spreads across his face. Part of me hopes that’s not just the sun affecting his pale, freckled complexion. “Alright, I’ll try.”

He rubs his hands together. His skin simmers with magic once again. It smells intoxicatingly good. Snow holds his right hand out, palm flat. The electricity builds on the surface. He keeps his hand clenched, but the energy threatens to spill over his fingers. I resist the urge to run in as fast as I can. I didn’t lie, I do trust him. But living on my own for almost three years has given me quite the self preservation instinct.

Sweat prickles Snow’s brow. He uses his opposite arm to keep the other one steady. “C’mon, Simon,” I whisper. “You can do it.”

The jagged white bolt shoots from his skin, far less formless than the last one. It zigs and zags, but in the end hits the flask straight on. The bottle explodes in a shower of jagged metal. I throw up a makeshift shield just in time. When I look at Snow, he’s flat on his ass, panting hard.

“Holy shit,” he says.

“‘Holy shit’ is right,” I respond with a chuckle.

He looks at me with a wide grin. It shines brighter than the midday sun. “I did it! That’s the most controlled my magic has ever been! Thank you, Baz.”

I nod. “You’re welcome, Snow. My aunt always said danger is a great motivator to learn. Especially when it comes to magic.”

Snow lays down on the grass, panting hard. It seems he’s not going to get up any time soon. “Your aunt, was she the one that taught you about magic?”

I kick at a piece of rusted shrapnel, my back to the resting Snow. “Yes, before it manifested, obviously. She wanted me to be prepared just in case. Her whole side of the family has a history of magic. It only appears every few generations or so. We both drew the short ends of the bloodline straw I guess.”

“You’re lucky with that, y’know. I never had anyone to teach me properly. Penny tried, but we never got far enough to make a difference. When I first got magic, this guy called the Mage offered to help. But it turned out he just wanted to drain me. I killed him by accident when he tried. I really didn’t mean to hurt hum, but he wouldn’t stop...”

I turn to him. There’s far too much pain in his eyes. “You had every right to defend yourself. Don’t feel bad.”

He lifts his head up. His smile is sort of sad, but it’s still gorgeous. “Thanks, Baz.”

I smile back as best I can. “You’re most welcome, Snow.” I place my hands in my pockets, desperately clenching my fists in hopes to keep my emotions at bay. “Unfortunately, I’m out of flasks. But we do have an oversupply of fauna. Want to try and not destroy a cactus this time?”

“Okay.” Snow nods, breathing steadily. “Okay, I’ll try.”

Snow takes his stance across from another unfortunate cactus. I watch him and give advice, but slowly have to back away as Snow’s sweet scent permeates the air. I try not to imagine being close to Snow, not having to fear him, him not having to fear me. Oh, what a life that could be.

———————————————

After another week of dodging the Red Weed, we finally get to somewhere. Covent Gardens, a town I suppose is named after the London borough. It’s sizable enough to have a slightly good inn; as in none of the panels are falling off and the sign is missing only a single letter. That’s practically a palace in these parts. I walk in with gusto, making the shutters rattle, Simon following behind me with his head.

Everyone looks at us. I’m not sure how obvious our hexation is, but I suppose we look enough like trouble. Plus my skin tone isn’t an asset here. Or anywhere, honestly. So I sneer and most turned away.

“They’re afraid of us,” Simon mumbles.

“As they should be,” I reply deadpan. I go straight to the barkeep, a bulky white man with truly horrific mutton chops. “I need two rooms.”

The man crosses his unnaturally large arms. “We don’t serve... people like you.”

I grip the bar lip, nails digging into the half rotted wood. “Like me how? Hexes or brown people?”

He sneers at me. “Neither.”

The fire blazes in my eyes. Wood blackens under my skin. “Now listen here, you stupid bastard, you better rent us a room or-”

“Now, now, Basilton,” a familiar voice says, “no need to be so rude. I’m sure we can come to an agreement.”

“Hello, Nicodemus.”

Nico moves to stand next to me. His suit is cheap, the stitches fraying at the seams. He’s still got that sort of menacing look, but he looks tired too.

“Fancy seeing you here, Pitch. How’s your aunt?” He smiles, showing off his missing eye teeth. It makes me want to punch him in his stupid face.

“Why would you care, Petty? You’re the one who left her after everything she did for you.”

He hangs his head back with a groan. “Still defending your family’s honour, I see. Ain’t my fault I wanted to realise my full potential.”

“What, by getting your teeth pulled out so you could get magic? Even when my aunt warned you what a curse being a hex was? You’re still an arrogant idiot then.”

Nicodemus growls and grabs my wrist. His magic reaches out to clash with my own. It’s slick like oil, wrapping around my fire like a snake. But there’s a roughness to it. A sort of mangy, wild energy that I remember all too well from the hex duel with my aunt. Now, I can smell the acrid tang of it too. It leaves a sour taste in the back of my throat. I’m not surprised his magic is as disgusting as he is.

“Looks like you went through some shit too, Basilton,” he hisses. “You’ve got the same fire as dear old Fi. What, the guilt of letting your mum die finally get to you? Try to end it all? Too bad, you just became the monster she never wanted you to be instead.”

His power gnashes at mine, trying to rip it apart and eat it. But Nicodemus has made a fatal assumption; that he’s more powerful than me. I push back against him hard. The fire rushes through my every vein. I revel in the way Nico’s eyes go wide. My hand shoots up to his throat and I shove him down so hard his back bends against the wooden bar.

“You bastard,” I growl. “After all these years you still don’t know how to keep your bloody mouth shut.” I hold his throat even tighter. His eyes bug out of his skull. “Maybe I should shut it permanently.”

I open the gates within, and his magic begins to pour into me. It’s the world’s greatest adrenaline rush. I’m invincible, powerful, a bloody god. Nico gasps and tries to push me away. But I’m still stronger. He could never stop me.

“Baz!” Snow shouts. “Stop it!”

I turn to him with burning eyes. Everything I see is cloudy, like a smoke screen or rippling water. “Why?!”

“Because,” his voice is desperate, and maybe even caring, “we shouldn’t be the monsters they think we are. Just look at them, Baz!”

I still have enough sense to hear what he says. The patrons cower in fear, eyes wide with terror as they look at me. It’s not an expression anyone wants to be subjected to, or cause. And though I hate him, Nicodemus is right. My mother never wanted me to be this. Another terrible, murderous, evil hex.

With all my strength and good sense, I find the will to let Nicodemus’ neck go. His power rushes back into him with a sputtering gasp. I glare at him as I pull away, fingers still trailing with flames.

“Leave,” I say flatly. “Now.”

Nicodemus runs faster than I’ve ever seen a man run before. I take a few deep breaths. It takes a moment for my magic to balance out. It still yearns for Nicodemus’ power, but I beat it back into submission. I won’t let the hunger control me. Then I walk towards the now terrified barkeep.

“Rooms still not available?” He shakes his head frantically. “Good.” I slap down some American money. “Two rooms, please. Also throw in some whiskey. I need a drink after all that.”

The man picks two keys out of a box, then a bottle and glasses from the shelf. He shoves them both forward on the bar and takes two large steps back. I snatch them up with a tip of my ridiculous cowboy hat.

“Cheers, mate.”

Snow and I take a table in a corner. No one dares to look at us. I pour drinks for both of us and shove his glass to the other side of the table. We’re as far apart as we can be but it’s still risky. My power is still hungry. And Simon still smells delicious. But I won’t hurt him. I can’t.

“So,” Simon says, vowel drawn out, “who was that?”

I throw back the whiskey. It’s sour and burns my throat, but it's better than Slipfoot’s at least. “His name is Nicodemus Petty. He and my aunt Fiona were friends growing up. They bonded over their mutual family history of hexation. But when my aunt and his sister, Ebb, manifested magic as teenagers, Nico was jealous. Fiona and Ebb both tried to tell him that hex magic was far more of a curse than a blessing, but he never listened. He wanted the power. When I was about nine, he finally succeeded in activating his own latent magic.”

“By having two of his teeth ripped out...”

“Mhm. First thing he did was stumble all bloody mouthed to my aunt’s flat.” I clench the glass so hard I nearly break it. “The bastard attacked her by surprise, and tried to steal her magic. He almost killed her, but Fiona got a lucky shot and threw him out the window.” I take a deep breath, trying to stay calm. “As you can guess, I was there. It wasn’t pretty.”

“I can imagine.” He pulls in, picking at his nails nervously. “Um, if you don’t mind me asking...w-what was he talking about? With your mum?”

I pour myself another helpful shot of whiskey. I want to drown my brain in the stuff, honestly. I’ve never talked about my mum, it’s too painful, like ripping out a fingernail. But Snow has shown so much of himself to me. It seems unfair to hide. “My aunt and I aren’t the only hexes in our family.”

His eyes go wide as the revelation hits him, “Your mum is a hex too?”

I nod slowly, then drink the alcohol in one gulp. The warmth tingles in my veins and loosens my tongue. I stare at the glass, watching the light refract through it’s bends. “She was, but my father is human. They loved each other enough to not be scared, I guess. They never meant to have children. I was an accident, but my mother wanted me in spite of the risks. My father said she cried with happiness when she saw I was a boy. She thought if she kept me safe, I’d never become a full hex.” I flick a paint chip off the table with more force than necessary. “Then she died protecting me, doing what she promised.”

“How? Was it another hex?”

“Even worse, scared humans.”

Snow’s face falls even more. He takes a long sip from his own drink. “So they tried to kill her?”

“They tried to kill all of us. Someone heard of my mother’s hexation, and they rallied a group together to fight our family. It wasn’t a real fight though. The cowards snuck in and tried to stab us. My mother killed almost all of them quickly” My fists clench so tight it hurts. “The last one nearly got me, but my mother stepped in front. He burned to ash just after he stabbed her through the throat.”

“Oh. Not even a hex could come back from that kind of wound...”

“I know,” I say between gritted teeth. “I know that very well, Snow.” I delicately place the glass down with a strained hand. “I...I tried to stop the bleeding but there was nothing I could do. I had no magic then. Even so, I doubt my powers could’ve helped.” A little flame pops up in my hand with barely a thought. Making fire is more natural than breathing for me, after all. I watch the scarlet snake dance between my fingers. “My family’s abilities have always been better at destruction.”

Simon takes another long sip, polishing off his drink. “I don’t know what my family’s like, but I hope they’re not like me. This power...it’s too much for anyone to have. I’d give it up in a heartbeat.”

“We all would, Snow. That’s what the humans don’t get. Most hexes are just as scared of themselves as humans are.” I pour my third drink. It’s been awhile since I’ve drank so much in one sitting, but if I’m going to get sozzled, tonight is a good time. “But that’s not up to us. We’re born like this. Nothing we can do but try to survive.”

“Believe me, I know that. All I’ve ever done is survive. In the orphanage, on the streets, here in America.” He lets out a small, sad laugh. “Hexation is how I ended up on the street, actually.” Snow looks directly down at the table. “When I was 11, I, uh, had a dream that I was exploding. When I woke up, the entire orphanage had been blown to pieces. Luckily no one was hurt, but the matron couldn’t very well keep a hex among other children.”

“So she thought sending you to roam among other humans was safer?”

He shrugs. “I don’t think she cared as long as I was far away from her.”

I scoff, swinging the glass between two fingers. “Sounds about usual for humans. What made you manifest? A particularly bad paddling from the matron?”

Snow chews on his bottom lip. His fingers drum the wood slowly. “I, uh, actually didn’t have to suffer. I’m one of those rare cases of sudden manifestation, apparently. That’s what Penny called it anyway. She said it was rare but possible.”

My grip on the glass gets even tighter. A sudden jealous rage consumes my mind. So Snow just exploded one day at eleven. That’s awful, of course, I’ll never deny that. But all I can think of is the coffin. The endless night of being trapped in that box, waiting for a relief that wouldn’t come, until I finally broke and became the last thing I ever wanted to be. I went through absolute hell. Of course I assumed Snow had to, like all other male hexes. But he didn’t. He’s never had the acute kind of torture I did. It’s not fair.

“Excuse me,” I say more harshly than I mean to, “I’m tired. I think I’ll turn in.”

Snow’s pretty plain eyes go wide. “O-Oh...okay. Good night, then.”

“Night.” I snatch the bottle up and leave the key for his room. Then I stomp up the stairs with irrational anger still burning me up. I know it’s stupid, but I can’t get past it. Male hexes get their magic through suffering. It’s a well known fact. How could Snow be like me without the same kind of pain? How could he ever fully understand me the way I thought he could?

The second my room door is closed, I drink down the last of the whiskey bottle. I’ve tried to avoid alcohol over the past few years. It would be far too easy for me to drink away the pain, the memories, the horrible guilt. Eventually, I’d drown myself in a bottle. That’s not a way I want to go. But one night of indulgence will be fine.

I wobble towards my bed, shedding my outer layers as I go. I collapse face first onto the old mattress. Whiskey clouds my mind. And when I finally pass out, all I see is empty darkness. I’m not sure if that’s better or worse than the nightmares.

———————————————

“...safe?”

“Out cold...”

The voices stay patchy as I slip in and out of consciousness. I try to force my eyes fully open, but the pounding in my head is too much. Indistinguishable figures move on the edges of my blurry vision. There’s little to no light. It must still be night, maybe only a couple hours since I passed out.

“Is..right thing?”

“Hex...Rook and Pargeter...dangerous...we...safe.”

“Fine.”

Something grabs both my wrists and my ankles. I try to struggle but I must still be too drunk. I can’t get my limbs to move save for some squirming. I try to summon my magic, but my mind can’t concentrate. It’s no use. Bloody hell, I’m trapped.

“Night night, hex,” a horrible voice says. Something soft is pressed hard against my face. I can’t take in air, I can’t breathe, I can’t fucking breathe. It’s like the coffin. No, I can’t do this again. I try to thrash harder and scream but it’s still no use.

Oh Lord, I’m going to die here. I wonder if I’ll see my mother on the other side. I wonder if I even have a soul to go to the other side. And I wonder how if Snow is okay. Christ, my last conversation with him ended in anger. If I had known, I would’ve said everything I’ve wanted to say this past week. But the first thing would be ‘I’m sorry.’

I’m sorry, Snow, for everything I said and thought. And I’m sorry for leaving you alone.

“Hey! Get off him, you bastards!” That voice is familiar even in my half drunken state. Thank whatever gods are listening that he’s okay.

“It’s the other one!” one of my assailants shouts. “Wasn’t Garth supposed to take care of him?!”

“That damn idjit fucked up!”

I hear the telltale signs of punches and kicks thrown about. One of the hands on me pulls off. All this excitement has thankfully sobered me up some. I kick some stupid bastard right in the stomach.

“Fuck!” they wheeze. The other humans are wise and let go of my wrist. I’m on my feet in a second.

“Bloody humans,” I growl out, still slurring slightly. “You can’t even let me fucking sleep?!”

The burly barkeep scowls at me. My would be murder weapon is still in his hand. “Eat shit, you demon.”

I scowl right back at him. “Oh, you want a demon? I’ll give you a fucking demon, love.”

The fire blazes up in me, all shining black and scarlet, and I make little effort to contain it. I let the flames fly out and encase the man almost completely. He screeches as his skin bubbles and burns under my powers.

“Stop it!” a woman yells. She comes at me with a knife raised. A whip of fire forms in my hand instantly. With one crack, it wraps around her wrist. She screams in the exact same way and lets her weapon clatter on the floor. She goes to her knees, clutching her blackened, blistered skin.

“You bastard,” she cries. “How could you?!”

“How could I!?” Even more fire plays over my hands. “I could ask you the same thing, human.”

“We’re trying to protect ourselves, monster!”

In that moment, in her eyes, I see every human who’s hurt me. The people who mocked me, who killed my mother, who turned me into this. All sense leaves my mind in an instant. “I’m a monster only because of you!”

With one wave of my hand, she’s thrown against the wall hard enough to make it shake. I spin around to see a man trying to crack Snow’s skull open with a butcher’s cleaver. One well aimed blast sends him flying as well. Another casts two aside. They don’t move much afterwards, but I find myself caring little. Let them die like my mother did.

“Baz, stop it!” Snow shouts. I ignore him as I send the last assailant against the wall, listening to their screams as I burn their chest. “Baz!”

“Fuck off, Snow!” I roar. “I- Ack!”

Pain rips through my shoulder. I clutch it and my hand becomes wet with what I assume must be blood. I fall forward. My nose cracks against the floor. I scream in pain and flames roar out of me in a massive plume They hit everything, including my shooter and the walls of the room. I can feel the whole space burning around us.

“Baz!” Snow’s voice is beyond panicked. I hear his footsteps rush toward me. His hands hover over me but won’t touch. He can’t touch me.

“Get out, Simon,” I rasp , turning my head to the side to look at him. He’s covered in bruises and ash. Yet he’s still so beautiful. “Run before more of them come.”

“Shut up, arsehole! I haven’t turned my back on you yet, and I’m not going to start now!”

If the world weren’t literally on fire right now, I’d find that touching. I close my eyes. At least my dying image will be of him. “Don’t be an idiot, Snow.” Surprisingly, the bastard fucking laughs. My eyes snap open again. The bloody back of his hand is pressed against his mouth as he giggles. “What the fuck is funny about this?”

“You,” he laughs, “called me Simon before.”

My face heats up, and it’s not from the fire. “No I didn’t.”

“We’re fucking dying and you can’t admit you used my first name?”

“I’m dying. You’re being an idiot and not running away like you should!”

“You’re too stubborn to die, Baz, and we both know it.” He jumps to his feet. “Get up, we’re getting out of here.”

“Snow-”

“Or are you too much of a yellow belly to get up and try?”

Oh, this bastard. In only two weeks, he’s learned me too well. I scowl at his stupid pretty face as I push myself up on my good arm. At the same time, thundering footsteps can be heard from the stairwell.

“That route is out of the question,” I say. “Where are we to go, Snow?”

“This way.” He holds his hand and in a mere two seconds, the opposite wall is blown to pieces in a rain of spark. “Now let’s go!”

“We’re on the bloody second floor!”

Snow runs towards the gaping hole and throws himself out. I rush to the edge, blood pounding in my ear. No, Snow cannot die, I can’t let him die. But to my utter shock and awe, Snow is floating his way down to the ground. He stops and starts and still hits the ground in an uncoordinated roll, but he’s okay.

“Oh, Snow, you brilliant moron,” I whisper.

“They’re probably still in there!” someone shouts from the hallway. I take a few steps back, breathe deep, and run off the splintered edge just as the humans burst through the door.

Instead of sending my fire outwards like usual, I keep it within me. I will my body to rise high like flames from a candle. My legs move slowly like I’m running in the air. Fuck, this is actually working. Slowly, I let my flame flick and die down, lowering myself along with it. I reach the ground with my own thud but stay on my feet. Snow grins at me. In all this horror, that is the greatest thing to see.

“Let’s get the horses and get out of here, Snow.”

“Agreed, Pitch.”

We sprint to the stables and thankfully find our steeds unharmed. I count ourselves lucky that our attackers didn’t consider them demonic too. Mounting is difficult with my left arm fucked up, but let it never be said that a human bullet could stop Basilton Pitch. I hold the reins with one hand as I spur him into a dash.

The wind whistles in my ears. Snow and I run even faster than we did from the Red Weed. Our kind is always good at running. It’s our natural state.

———————————————

Snow and I ride until it’s nearly dawn. The sky turns purple then crimson with the rising sun in front of us. When I see orange, my horse finally starts to tire out. Snow’s does the same. We slow down then stop.

“Think we’re far enough away?” Snow asks, breath short and strained.

“Yeah,” I reply, sounding the same. “I think they would’ve caught us by now if they were still after us.”

“Good point, good point.” Snow leans forward, putting his forehead on his horse’s neck. “God, I’m fucking knackered. I barely slept.”

“Me too. We should both sleep.”

“What if someone comes after us?”

“Point. Sleep in shifts?”

Snow nods. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

“Good.” I slowly dismount my horse, but get my footing wrong and start to fall. I grab the reins with my left arm and practically scream in pain.

“Baz!” Snow rushes towards me, but stops when I raise my good arm.

“Don’t...” I pant, “don’t come any closer. I’m injured, Snow, and my self control is severely weakened. So unless you wish for death now after just barely escaping it, back away.”

“Oh, yeah, right...” Snow backs far away just as he should, but my heart still aches. “What are we going to do about your shoulder?”

“I can fix it, but I’m going to need your belt”

Snow’s brows shot upwards. “My belt? What for?”

“Just throw it to me, Snow, for Christ’s sake.”

Thank God he doesn’t ask another stupid question. He just unbuckles the belt and does what I ask. I try to not let my hands shake as I fold the belt in half. The last time I did this was three years ago, when I sat in a London alleyway after a drunkard broke my leg, a mere four days after fleeing my home for good.

“Baz, what are you-”

“Snow,” I say firmly, “I need you to do me a favour.”

“Okay...?”

I sit on the ground, belt held tightly in my hand. “I need you to stay right there no matter what. Don’t move, don’t try to help. The best way you can help is to stay fucking still.”

“What the fuck is-”

“Promise me you won’t move, Simon.” I look him right in his blue eyes, my mouth a thin, serious line. “Promise me.”

Snow gives me a once over, then thankfully nods. “Okay, I promise.”

“Good.” I put the belt between my teeth. When I check on Snow, he looks beyond panicked. “If it makes it easier,” I say clumsily between the leather, “you don’t have to watch.”

“Baz-”

I slap my right hand over my left shoulder, and it feels like I’m burning from the inside out. My magic scorches my body as it wraps around my injury. The buck shot is pulled through my muscles and skin, ripping and tearing as they go, and I can feel every bit of it. I can also feel as my tissue and bone stretches to knit back together piece by agonizing piece. It’s an indescribable kind of pain. It’s what I imagine hell must feel like. I scream, I can’t help it, but luckily the belt is muffling as well preventing me from biting off a chunk of my tongue. Snow gasps in horror but he doesn’t move. He keeps his promises. I knew he would. He’s a far better man than me.

The burning fades as the skin finally seals shut. I cautiously move my hand, shaking off the shrapnel and gooey viscera that trails between my fingers. God, it's a nasty scab, mangled and uneven and horrifically inflamed. I can only hope the scar won’t be too bad. The one on my calf has faded overtime.

“Are you-”

“Not yet,” I say, cutting off a frightened looking Simon. “This one won’t take as long though.”

I touch my nose, feeling for where the breaks are. I squeeze my eyes shut, and with a horribly painful crack, I move it mostly back into place. I let out a short yell, but just pant and seethe as the bone and cartilage knit back together. I try to wipe the bloody snot from my hand but it's no use. Disgusting, but better than a broken nose. I feel around to make sure things are okay. Well, the tip is a bit crooked, but I can live with that. Right now, I’m thankful to be alive at all.

“Okay,” I sigh, finally taking the teeth mark covered belt out of my mouth, “now I’m done.”

“What the fuck was that?” Snow’s voice is somewhere between fascination and absolute horror. In short, a proper reaction.

“Something my aunt taught me. Hexes are essentially manipulators of energy and matter. And what are bodies but living energy and matter? With practice, you can fix any part of yourself.”

“But isn’t it painful?”

“Was that not obvious?” I snap. But Snow’s genuinely worried face softens my demeanor. “Yes, it’s excruciating. Hence why I try not to use the technique as much as I can.” I massage my still aching shoulder. “Today it was unavoidable, unfortunately.”

Simon runs a nervous hand through his dirty hair. “Fuck...”

I cough out a small laugh. “Yes, that sums it up pretty well.”

He laughs too, just as shaky and sad. “Sums up the whole night.”

The two of us keep chuckling softly in the wee hours of the morning. The ascending sun hurts my tired eyes. Using so much magic has taken everything out of me. I let out a long, deep yawn.

“You sleep first,” Snow says. “I’ll keep watch.”

“No, no, I can-”

“Baz.” He sounds firm, but also tired, and maybe even a little fond. I’m probably imagining that last one though. “Go to bed. I’ll wake you up in about eight hours.”

If I weren’t sleep deprived, magically drained, and recovering from grievous injuries, I would protest more. But Snow is damn lucky today. I simply sigh and stand up to get my cot from my saddlebags. I count our lucky stars we didn’t bring in too many of our supplies to the inn. Maybe God hasn’t completely abandoned us heathen monsters.

“I don’t have the energy to put up my shield,” I say, hoping my tone conveys enough.

“Okay,” Snow replies, “I’ll stay away, don’t worry. I keep my promises.”

My pulse flutters involuntarily. A smile creeps across my face no matter how hard I try to stop it. “I know you do, Simon.”

Snow gifts me one of his sunshine smiles. That’s the last thing I see before turning over and letting myself rest.

———————————————

Snow lets me sleep longer than eight hours. I’d be more mad if I wasn’t so exhausted. In return, I let him oversleep too. We’re both passed out by the time it’s dark again. Even hexes with all our inhumanity need to rest sometimes. Snow and I are lucky we get the chance this time.

In the morning, I reluctantly go to the next closest town. We did leave some of our things behind sadly, including most of our clothes. I’m damn well not going to keep roaming around the south of Texas in my bloody socks, and neither will Snow. I get us some new jackets, boots, and hats, ignoring the strange looks I get from the lily white shopkeeper.

I grab us some more of that disgusting jerky too. If only good food could keep in these horrific conditions. When I reach the counter, the shopkeeper frowns at the things I lay out.

“You can pay for all this?” she asks. I scowl deeply. I’m too tired for this shit.

“Are people like me not allowed to have money here?” I snap.

“Ya can now, but in my experience, y’all darker folk are better at stealing my stock than paying.”

Bloody hell, I’m too tired for this racist shite. I slam two bills on the counter. “There. Hope I didn’t dirty these up too much for you.”

She glares at me hard. As she reaches for the money, I deliberately brush my finger on hers, and she yelps loudly. The edge of her index is red and inflamed. An undeniable burn mark, but far too small for anyone to believe it came from an evil, bloodthirsty hexslinger.

“Oh dear,” I say deadpan. “Your register must have gotten in the sun. Do be more careful.” I shovel the supplies in my bag as she looks at me wide eyed. “Have a nice day, ma’am.”

I can feel her scared eyes on my back as I leave. I get on my horse and ride out fast. No reason to stay in this shithole any longer. And I need to get back to Snow, where I belong.

———————————————

“Everything okay in town?” Snow asks.

I toss the bundle of clothes at him, along with a bag of jerky. “No one attacked me, if that’s what you mean. I didn’t get made for a hex. But I did get some flack for my skin tone.”

Snow’s face falls a bit. There’s something far too close to pity in his eyes. “Oh. I’m sorry-”

“Don’t, Snow. You’re in no place to apologize for some racist American bastards, it’s not your responsibility. Sorry from you means nothing.”

“But-”

“Would you accept an apology from me on behalf of all the rich men who have treated you like trash before?” Snow’s gaping mouth slowly closes. “Exactly. Now get those on. They’re slightly less dirty than our current garments.”

Snow nods and does what I say. I unbutton off my bloodstained shirt and wince as the tacky fabric peels off my skin. The scab has gotten a little better. That’s something I suppose. My eyes slowly move over to Snow without realising it. I steal a glimpse of his broad, bare back, golden like the rest of him. There are some jagged pink scars but they take nothing away how brightly he shines. I look away before I’m too tempted by what I can’t have.

“Much better,” Snow sighs as he slips on the new boots. “I’m surprised my feet haven’t been ripped to shreds yet.”

“Me too. I’m glad though, I didn’t want to do any more healing.”

“I don’t want you to either, fuck.” I hate how his concern makes me feel so good inside. “I’ll start setting up the fire. It’s going to get dark again soon.”

“By all means, Snow, do all the work. I won’t stop you.”

Snow snorts out a laugh, giving me a cheeky smile I can still see at this distance. Christ, I’m on fire, and for once it’s not from my magic. It’s so much better. I have to look away again before I do something ridiculous and deadly.

By the time the sun is down, Snow has made a wonderful small fire for the two of us. We both warm our hands from opposite sides. I don’t need to do it too much. My magic has almost fully replenished, for better or worse. And I’m so hungry that I actually enjoy the extremely salty bison jerky. Bloody hell, I’m turning into an American.

“Where are we going to go next?” Snow asks, mouth still full. “I’m guessing we should avoid any more towns.”

“Agreed. I don’t know about you, but I’d rather not jump out of another building.”

“We certainly agree there. Christ, I was worried I was going to die.”

“Me too, Snow, me too.” I nervously fiddle with the string on my cloth bag. The words are coming out, and I can’t stop them. “I’m sorry, Snow.”

His brow adorably furrows. “Sorry for what?”

“Sorry for the way I acted that night, before I went to bed. I was very rude to you and I deeply apologize.”

“Oh...okay. Thanks.” He looks down, rubbing the back of his neck. “I-I was confused. Did I do something bad?”

“No, Snow,” I sigh, “you did nothing wrong. It was all me being stupid.”

“Okay...”

I sigh again. God, I can’t dance around it anymore. I have to tell him. After putting up with me for this long, he deserves to know.

“I was angry and...somewhat jealous of you.”

His eyes get very big. “Jealous? Of me?!”

“Yes, in a way. Because...you didn’t have to go through the same kind of suffering I did when I manifested. Which isn’t fair, because you lived on the streets while I grew up in a bloody mansion. It’s just not the same suffering I had, and I was angry I had to go through it when you didn't. Which is absolutely ridiculous, and I’m sorry I pushed that on you.”

“If you don’t mind me asking...what happened?”

I stare at him for a long moment over the fire. He holds my gaze, eyes round with worry and care. It hurts me in the most exquisite way. “It’s not a pretty story, Snow.”

His mouth pulls into a sad, slight smile. “Weren’t you the one who said that all hexes live through hardship, and we have nothing to be ashamed of?”

I chuckle and shake my head. “Using my words against me, a tactic of a true devious hex.”

He shrugs, still wearing that little smile. “What can I say? I can live up to our reputation sometimes.” Snow’s face falls again. “So what happened?”

With a deep sigh, rubbing my forehead, I start the horrid tale.

“My family always knew there was a chance I could be a hex,” I say. “But since my aunt couldn’t sense any magic on me pre manifestation, we assumed that I wasn’t too powerful, and manifestation could be avoided if we were careful. So I lived in the aforementioned secluded mansion all my life and I was never allowed to leave the grounds. All my time was spent reading, doing school work, or learning about hexation from my aunt, just in case. Everything in my life revolved around my mere potential to be a hex. I could never do or see anything. I felt like a prisoner. And when I was 18, I had enough.

“One evening, I snuck out of my room and went into the nearby town. I just wanted to see what was outside my home. But I was a naive sheltered kid. Of course I got lost on my way there and went into an area I never should have. Someone had knocked me out cold, and next thing I knew, I was in a cramped, dark box.”

“A box? What do you mean a box?”

I clench my fists tight until the shaking stops, then slowly let go. “It was a coffin, Snow. I had been trapped inside a coffin.”

I can almost feel the way Snow’s stomach must drop out at those words. I know, mine did the same when I realised where I was that night. “W-Why?!”

“It was hard to hear him through said coffin, but I got the main idea. He came from some old witch hunter family but had never caught an actual hex, until me. He’d heard the stories about my mother and had been secretly spying on me for months. When I escaped, he took his chance to kidnap me.”

“So he took you just to taunt you from outside a coffin?”

“I wish that was all he did,” I grumble. “He told me that the coffin was a test. There was a chance the hexation had skipped me over. If I was a hex, being stuck in the coffin would make me manifest, then he could kill me in good conscience. If I wasn’t and didn’t manifest, well, as he put it; ‘there are always casualties in the war for righteousness, boy.’”

Snow’s jaw drops to the grassy ground. “So even if you were human, he would’ve killed you anyway?”

“Mhm, mad bastard.”

“How long did he keep you there before you escaped? A few days?”

I take long, steady breaths, beating back the old fear that creeps up my throat like bile. I can almost still smell that unique rotten scent from the coffin. I’ll never forget it. I never can.

“Snow,” I say slowly, “I was in that coffin for six weeks.”

And I thought he looked horrified before. Snow drops his jerky bag, hands shaking. I want to grab them, hold them still, comfort him in whatever way I can. The urge is almost stronger than the Call.

“S-Six weeks?! How are you still alive?”

“Thank the witch hunter,” I grumble. “He drilled very small air holes in the lid, and gave me enough food and water to keep me alive but starving. I think, hex or not, he wanted me to suffer because I was my mother’s son. A hex’s child was just as guilty of sin in his eyes.” I rub the bridge of my nose. It aches with the pain of my past. “At the time, I had no idea how long I was in there. It was just one endless night of torture. I begged and pleaded with the hunter to let me go, but he only laughed and called me pathetic hex scum. After six weeks, well, he finally got what he wanted.”

“You manifested.”

“Almost as violently as you did.” I trace the lines of my hand, the skin rough from my fire. I remember my mother’s hands being the same. “The details are blurry, but I remember enough. It started as just a tingling in my gut, but soon it became a burn. And then it spread as quickly as a forest fire.”

“Is it always fire with you?” The corner of Snow’s lip quirks up. The bit of teasing lilt in his voice makes me feel a bit lighter. I can't help but smile back a little.

“Usually, yes. It's always run very strong in my family.” I bounce a flame between my fingers. The movement is strangely calming to me. “I quickly learned I was no different. Before I knew it, I let out a massive ring of fire in every direction. It blew the coffin apart, of course, and turned my captor into a charcoal husk.”

Snow scoffs, a surprisingly vicious expression on his face. “Better than he deserved.”

“Agreed. I have no idea what happened to his body. I left almost immediately, though I wasn’t fully conscious. Six weeks in the coffin had deprived me of most of my mental faculties. Luckily, he kept me not far from home, and I could wander back on pure muscle memory. But going home turned out to be a terrible idea.” I grab the small fire and snuff it out in one go. But my fist stays clenched. “My aunt had been staying there while everyone searched for me. The second I walked through the front door, I could easily smell her. She was overjoyed to see me, until she smelled me too. And as I said, most of my mental faculties were gone.”

“So you attacked her on instinct.”

I chuckle sadly. “Quick study there, Snow. I didn’t even know what I was doing. I was just so bloody hungry all of sudden. I can’t even describe it.”

“You don't need to describe it to me, Baz.” He brings his knees under his chin. “I’ve felt hex hunger too. It’s...awful when you’re in the middle of it.”

“And when you’re not, you try to drown it out or distract yourself. But deep down, you know one day you’ll give up and listen. Then it will take over.”

Snow nods, looking at me in the eye. I’ve seen so much profound sadness in a person’s face. “And you’ll hurt someone, no matter how much you’ll regret it later.”

If I have a soul, it’s aching horribly. How could fate be so cruel as to give me Snow? So wonderfully brave and kind to a fault, and who actually understands what my life is like. The perfect man. And someday soon, he’s going to kill me. There’s no doubt I’ll be the one to die. I won’t kill him, not ever. I’d let him take everything from me before I’d kill him.

“Did you hurt your aunt?”

Thankfully, I can shake my head to that. “No, not at all. She was an experienced magic user, while I was a starving, half crazed newly minted hex. She took me down in seconds. When I woke up again, I was cleaned up and in my room. It took a second to regain my bearings, but I soon remembered what had happened...what I had become. There wasn’t any debate in my mind. Within an hour, I had packed my most practical clothes along with any small valuables I could pawn. Then I ran away and never looked back.”

“Which is how you ended up in America.”

“What better way to protect my family from me than by putting an ocean between us? At first, I stayed in an empty little corner of the American frontier. I just wanted to live out my lonely hex existence as long as possible. I didn’t expect the Call or this looming hex war.”

“No one did,” Simon sighs. “Hexes working together has never been possible before. Who could’ve imagined some American preacher would team up with an Aztec goddess to do just that?”

“Fair point. But now he’s made our existences much harder in a way. Look what those humans tried to do to us at the inn. They were even more scared because of Rook”

“Yeah...”

I groan, pushing my face into my hands, rubbing it up and down. “I never asked to be like this. I tried my hardest to avoid being like this. Then that choice was ripped away from me by some madman. Now I’m trapped between murderous humans or a bloodthirsty witch goddess. Why am I here? Why do I have to be here?!”

“Baz-”

“I don’t want this,” I choke out through my building sobs. “I want to see my family again. I just want to go home!”

I breathe hard and fast, holding back tears with all my strength. No, I refuse to cry. I swore to never cry again after the coffin, because I wasn't sure I could survive falling apart again. Yet here I am. I thought I had shed every tear I have there. I’m so pathetic.

“It’s okay,” Simon says. His voice is far louder than before. “Whatever you’re feeling is okay. It’s...it’s okay if you’re not.”

Slowly, cautiously, I lower my hands, blinking away the tears that had collected. I inhale sharply. Snow is less than two feet away from me. I can count the moles on his face, see the golden highlights in his bronze. But worse, his unbelievably delicious scent fills every cavity of my nose.

“You really shouldn’t sit so close, Snow,” I whisper. My eyes fall down and become completely fixed on Simon’s plush lips.

“I know,” he says under his breath, “but I don’t care.”

He touches my hand, and I feel his magic run through me. That explosive sensation pulses through my veins so hard it almost makes me gasp. The instinctual part of my brain goes fucking mad. It wants me to grab his throat and drain every drop of his magic, his essence, his very soul. My breathing gets shallow and laboured.

“Simon...” I say.

And then he kisses me.

It’s cautious and shy. His lips barely brush against mine, but I feel it everywhere else, especially in the way our powers rise to meet each other. The magic collides, but doesn’t clash. They meld and twist together at our points of contact, desperately needing to connect.

Snow opens his mouth, turning the kiss into one of pure heat and hunger. I gladly do the same. He grabs either side of my face and shoves his tongue down my throat. I grip his collar and push back against him. My entire body is filled with endless energy. I’m a star going supernova. And I want to explode with Simon. My nails scratch viciously across his neck. He clenches his fist in my hair, pressing our faces closer. I shudder as Simon bites hard on my bottom lip. I’m wrapped in cold heat, wrapped up in him. I feel so alive. It feels so right. But it’s wrong.

With all the strength I have, I shove Snow off me. We both fall back on the ground, breaking our closed circuit of feeding on each other simultaneously. Simon scrambles further away panting. I’m similarly out of breath. Both our lips trail white smoke, like they’ve been singed by ice. My magic readjusts after being sucked away and added to all at the same time. A bit of Snow’s explosive energy still sits in me, swirling around like a miniature star. We just stare at each other wide eyed for a long time.

“Shit,” Simon whispers.

I sigh heavily, running a shaky hand through my hair. “Well said.”

“We nearly killed each other.”

“Mages don’t meddle, Snow. We both know that.”

Simon groans, clutching his hair in his fists. “I know, I know. I almost killed Penny last time and I swore it would never happen again. But look at me now. Of course I fuck up.” I can see tears forming under his eyes. “What’s the point of being an all powerful hex if it means being alone forever?! I can blow up a building with my mind but I can’t even bloody kiss you! It’s not fair!”

I pick at my shirt sleeve with shaking fingers. “Maybe God is punishing us.”

“We didn’t ask to be like this, Baz!”

“That doesn’t change what we are, Simon! We’re freaks of nature, cannibalistic monsters!” I nearly rip through the fabric of my shirt. I'm so angry and so fucking tired. “Maybe we truly are devil spawn or something, like all the humans say. Maybe they’re right to be scared of all of us...”

I turn away from him, just staring at the fire. The sting of the smoke keeps me from sinking too low into my self loathing. Snow moves in my peripheral. We sit side by side. My skin prickles as he hovers his hand over mine. It takes every bit of my will to not try and drain him again.

“There’s somewhere we can go where we aren’t 'Devil spawn,'” he says.

I tense up. “Simon, that’s risky. It could all be a farce.”

“I don’t care if you think it’s just a farce, Baz! It’s still a chance. For you and me, for us.” He lightly brushes one of my fingers. I have to rip my hand away before I hurt him again. His pretty eyes are filled with pain. “See? Wouldn’t you like to stop doing that? Isn’t it worth the risk?”

I’ve been running for most of my life. I ran from my mother's legacy for as long as I could. I ran from my family when I feared my own hunger. And I could run now, from Simon and the fear of killing him. But I’d also be abandoning the chance for some sort of happy life. It may not be perfect, but it would be far more than my ancestors ever had before. Can I sacrifice that for fear?

“I’m tired, Snow,” I say weakly. “We should both get some rest.”

“But Baz-”

“Let me sleep on it, alright? Please?”

Snow takes in a deep breath, and lets out a long sigh. “We’ll talk in the morning.”

“Okay.”

I want to kiss him so badly right now. Just grab his gorgeous, sunshine face and kiss him goodnight. Since I can’t, I smile as genuinely as I can at him. It’s not easy for me, but I mean it with him. “Goodnight, Simon.”

Snow stares at me for a long moment. But slowly, a smile creeps across his face too. The fondness threatens to melt me, “Goodnight, Baz.”

We keep our eyes locked for as long as we can. When I finally lay down, putting my crackling shield around me, the image of Snow’s wonderful face relaxes me into sleep.

———————————————

I bang my fists against the wood over and over, ignoring my already numerous splinters.

“Help!” I yell. “Someone help me! Please, get me out of here!”

All my pleas fall on deaf ears, as usual. No matter what I do, no matter how loud I scream. I’m stuck in this damned coffin. I scratch at it until my fingernails tear from their beds. Blood drips into my mouth, leaving an iron taste in the back of my scream sore throat.

“I’m not a fucking hex! I just want to go home!” I sob so hard I nearly choke on my own breath. “Just let me go home.”

My aching arms finally fall. I curl in on myself as much as I can within my confines. I close my eyes, but there’s little to no difference in the endless pitch black. Tears run hot down my face. They leave small trails in the dirt that’s accumulated over...however long I’ve been here. I don’t know anymore. Time is meaningless where there’s no sunrise or sunset. Life is meaningless in here.

“Baz?”

His voice is far away, but it still rings clear. My eyes slide open. “Simon?”

“Oh lord. Hang on, Baz! I'll get you out!”

I can only hear as Snow desperately tugs at the coffin lid. It should be impossible, the thing is nailed shut, but somehow Snow rips it open. The light is dim yet still hurts my eyes. I can't help but hiss at the pain.

“It’s okay, Baz,” he says in that unbelievably soft tone.

His hand reaches to me through the blinding light. Slowly, I reach back. And when I hold it, I know I’m supposed to be in pain, but I’m not. Instead, I’m just calm, happy, safe. Snow slowly pulls me out. His arms snake around my back, holding me up. He looks me over, taking in my decrepit, decayed state from ages in that damn box. And miraculously, he smiles. Even like this, he looks at me with such care.

“You’re alright now, Baz. I’m here.” He cups my face. “I’m here for you.”

Emotions clog up my throat and tears run down my cheek, but this time they’re for a good reason. I put my own shaking hand on his golden face. He’s so warm. “Yes, you are. And I’m here for you too, Simon.”

He’s still grinning as I lean forward, pressing my lips to his. But this time there’s no fear I’ll kill him. There’s just the utter joy of being with the one who understands me best, the one I want the most.

Oh, how I want this.

———————————————

I blink awake slowly. The morning sun is just rising over the horizon, turning the grassy landscape violet. I sit up and see the now familiar body on the other side of the fire. Snow sleeps in a knot, arms and legs pulled in. The furrow in his brow says he’s in the middle of a nightmare too. Though mine wasn’t one by the end. Not when he was there.

My mind is made up.

Once again, I’m packing my things lowly, waiting for Snow to wake. Luckily, he stirs while I’m only halfway through tying up the cot. He rubs the sleep from his eyes in such a terribly adorable way.

“Morning,” I say.

“Morning,” he yawns. “Are we going now? Or...are you?”

My heart seizes, but only for a moment. He’s right to be concerned. The fact that we’ve travelled together for two weeks without killing each other is a miracle among hexes. After last night’s close call, a sensible man would leave and never return. I was once a sensible human man. But I’m a deranged, bloodthirsty hex now. Why not act like one?

“You should get up and start packing, Snow. If we’re going to make it to the Mexican border before nightfall, we’ll have to ride fast.”

His eyes go rounder than a full moon. “You mean...”

I pull the pack tie tight. “We’re going to Hex City.”

“What changed your mind?

I sigh heavily, then walk over to him. I stay at a safe distance of course but Snow’s magic pulls me to him, my body begging me to take it. Instead, I simply hold out my hand to him. Snow stares for a moment but does catch on. He offers his own to me. Once again, our magics reach out to each other, wisps of fire and lightning twining together. It sends a faint whisper of that explosive adrenaline through my veins. So incredible and so wrong.

I snap my hand away, fists clenched hard. “Because of that. If I were a more selfless person, I would simply leave, but unfortunately I’m not. Are you?” Snow looks me over. His eyes pierce me in a way no one’s ever has before. He slowly shakes his head. “Exactly. I may be scared of Rook and his goddess, but I’m more scared of hurting you. There’s only one place where I won't.”

“Hex City.” He chews on the corner of his bottom lip. “What if you’re right though, and Rook’s price is too high?”

“Then at least we’ll pay it knowing we tried to have a real life, instead of running like we’ve always had to.” I stand straight with my head held high. No matter the fear, I’m sure of this. “I think we’ve both suffered long enough, Simon.”

The way Snow’s face relaxes means the world to me. I love seeing that, seeing what he looks like without the heavy burden of hexation on his shoulders. Maybe I’ll be able to see that more in Hex City.

“It’ll probably be nice there,” he says. “I mean, a city made for hexes by hexes is going to be weird, but I bet it’ll look amazing in it’s own way.”

I chuckle and nod. “Agreed. Buildings and roads made by magic will certainly be interesting.”

“Penny would probably want to study them.” He sighs, but there’s a lightness to. “Maybe Penny will come one day, and I could see her again.”

“Maybe. I would love to meet her. I might be able to see my aunt again one day, too. I could introduce you to her.”

He beams so bright at me I fear I’ll get sunburnt. “I’d like that a lot.”

“Me too, Snow. So let’s get going.”

We finish packing very quickly. Snow gets on his horse as clumsy as he usually does. I snort at the way his American cowboy hat nearly falls off his head. The death glare he gives me has little impact, what with the way he’s grinning. He hasn’t stopped grinning almost since he woke up. I can’t blame him. I have trouble controlling my smile either.

“Ready?” he asks. As if he even has to. I’ve made my choice, and I’m sticking to it.

“Ready,” I say. “Let’s go.”

Snow and I both send our horses into gallops. We soar across the grassy plain, the Texas sun illuminating our way. The impending hex war still looms over us. But I will fight until my last breath to keep any happiness Simon and I can find.

I can almost see our future. Soon, we’ll reach the terrifying and wonderful Hex City. Rook will ask for his price, and we’ll pay, because it’ll mean a freedom we've never known before. We’ll be able to hold hands, kiss whenever we want, sleep in the same bed, simply be around each other with no fear of our hexacious hunger. It’s more than I could have ever dreamed of even a few months ago.

For once, I’m going to run towards something good, instead of away from the darkness inside me. I cannot wait.

———————————————

AN: And that's all folks! I hope people enjoyed that, even if y'all have never read Hexslinger. If you wanna read the books, I highly recommend them, tho be warned they require trigger warnings for all the stuff here and more. Almost anything that usually needs a trigger warning is in those books. I'm okay with reading it, but I also completely understand others not liking that shit.

In the positives, it's an extremely interesting and complex series dealing with survival, discrimination, identity, the pain that can come with love, and the unlikely bonds formed between people. The world building is amazing and the magic system is super cool. What I love the most are the characters, who are all very interesting and complex. No one is 100% good or evil, they're just people trying to find ways to achieve their goals or simply live. What actions they take are up for moral debate, but a lot of the time they're at least understandable. There's a lot of period typical bigotry, and it's much more vicious than what I wrote here, but what I love is that there a lot of diverse characters who say "fuck that" and fight back against the shit they get. You've got queer, Indigenous, black, latinx, Chinese, and Jewish main characters in a wild west story who are all well rounded and interesting. That's pretty awesome imo.

Okay enough gushing about Hexslinger lol. Hope this story was good. No guarantee when my next fic will be out. Work and school are killer. Until then, see you later!

#carry on #snowbaz #simon snow #baz pitch #hexslinger #hexslinger au #period typical homophobia #period typical racism #blood tw #mild body horror tw #canon typical vioence #mysnowbazfic #carry on through the ages #cotta 2020

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