#we need more freckled rook

[robo-milky]

More self-indulgent Yandere Rook(loche) for myself because the week’s been rough ;;

Ik this is already OOC of Rook but tbf, Yandere! Rook is already OOC in the first place- I swear he’s just shirtless because it’s logical to take off bloodied clothes but hey (´°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥ω°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥｀) and I was really lazy when speedrunning this for my widgets/ipad theme- and also just the vibe…

[blackbutlerfandomnerddomain]

Hi, I'm Brazilian and I apologize for any mistakes. I just want to think a bit more about a shipp that I haven't seen much of and that is simply living in my mind without paying rent. First poly years, Ace × Deuce × Epel × Jack (× Sebek? I've always seen some discussion about whether he's part of poly or not, so I'll leave it up to you). We need to talk more about them.

I AGREE!

I KNOW YOU MAY OF NOT BEEN ASKING FOR HEADCANONS BUT HERE!!

Ace was honestly the first to fell first and was not ready for the feels

He tried to shoot himself out of this feelings but alas, he just feel deeper with every day of the week

He gets so red his freckles (I headcanon he has so many freckles) just disappear away from view

When they started dating he was the most anxious about date plans cause he wants to impress all of them but not mess up with so much of him trying to stay cool

Sometimes he would be so cocky and vague he would end up blurting out if he wants a date or a kiss

Deuce was more so the one who noticed he wanted to date all five of them

Was he still a blushing mess after realizing he has crushes on all of his best friends? Oh for sure

I'm talking it was difficult for him to walk back his dorm with Ace without the urge to hold his hand, actually looked away from Jack during club cause he's so attractive, laughed way too hard at a joke Epel said during classes, was so spaced when hanging out with Sebek he was almost left behind, was far too eager to lead Ortho back to his dorm, etc.

He daydreamed a lot

While Ace was nervous of not screwing up, he's more nervous of what to do

Dude he had to hide his tail or else everyone had to watch him make small tornados from how much his tail wags

He does not know who he fell first out of the others

While everyone's freaking out on dates and feels he was the one who made the actual moves of asking people out

...Okay he wasn't actually asking them out but instead asking them to hangout

He loves cuddling them before and after dating

Epel was one of those lovesick fools who was doodling on their homework and sighing dreamingly while looking out the window

He thinks no one can tell, but Vil and Rook were more than aware

He makes pies for all of them, apple and pear, as a "random act or kindness" or "I made leftovers, so here"

Took him the longest to accept he's in love cause he thought it made him less manly and be seen as needing saving by some strong looking men

As soon as he realized he is in love he immidentally went to Silver, Lilia, and of course Malleus begging for advice

Lilia's like "I owe Idia some money-"

He was the most like "I must shout it to the world" but gets all kinds of red in the face when seeing any of their faces

The most romantic

Out of all of them, he's the one who had the longest loading of what he's feeling and what he should do with it

All he knew looking at them and talking to them makes his fire flicker and roar even when he's away from them

Unlike all of them he was the one who was fast to asking out, holding hands, and even kisses

Ignihyde got real used to Ortho zipping around the halls with glee and high pitched noises

Big spoon(s): Jack, Sebek, Epel Small spoon(s): Deuce, Ortho, Ace Not 100% set in stone as it depends on who sleeps first/last

Main cooks are Sebek, Epel, and Deuce

These songs fit them so I made a playlist

Yall I actually shipped this in my beginning until I got deeper into the story and lore and certain ships accidentally clouded it, the closet of this OT4/OT5/OT6 again are poly ships like the Kalim Harem or even just random smaller polys

So if you wanna ask more boo, go right ahead!

[adelaidedrubman]

wipfire wildsday. or something

was tagged for wip day by dearies @cassietrn and @direwombat, thank you! against all odds we are back on wildfire chapter 19! here’s a very shaky early draft little excerpt of jestiny being her lovable charming relatable self. warnings for violence and killing that is… not particularly gruesome or gory but perhaps particularly cruel. wildfire is a romcom as we know

“Alright.” She cut off his self-important monologuing with a press down of her thumb and a laugh, wedging the radio between her shoulder and ear to continue talking as she reached to place hands on either side of the cultist’s head. “Let’s play a fuckin’ game then, and you can show me just how much you actually fucking care.”

“Excuse me?”

“You value their lives so much? Let’s see if you can save this one.” She leaned down, so terrified sobs could be picked up by the meager speakers. “I let her limp off with no more than a broken arm. If you can do one. Simple. Thing.” She paused for effect before clarifying, “Tell me her name.”

“What on earth are you —”

“You fucking heard me,” she ground out. “Show me how much you actually care. Tell me the fucking name of the woman you sent out here to die for your fucking bullshit excuse for a cause,” she demanded. “Pale. Skinny. Ballpark five-two. Freckles. Green eyes. Curly brown hair. What’s her name?”

“Whatever infantile point you think you’re proving —”

“Would putting a voice to it help?”

She jammed a knee down on the twisted limb, grabbing a fistful of brunette curls to yank back and guide her screams towards the radio. 

“Please —! P-Please —”

“I think she’d like you to remember her name too, John,” Jestiny offered in a sugary sweet sing-song, pressing a hand back over her mouth. “What the fuck is it?”

“Do you think you’re doing anything but displaying every ounce of bloodthirsty wrath pulsing through your —”

“C’mon, surely you remember her?” she pressed with a rise. “She’s family, after all. You wouldn’t have just been bullshitting about how much you care about ‘every single soul I rip from it,’ right?” she teased in mocking falsetto. “Shoveled pig shit at the farm for y’all. Would be leaving behind a younger sister by the name of Stephanie. Guess that brainwashed cultist!”

“— can all now see it isn’t enough for the Deputy to simply take from our Family, no. She has to revel in her cruelty, to —”

“Maybe he could use a phone-a-friend, ya think?” Jestiny hummed, yanking her captive up by the hair again. “Think fast — aaanything he would remember you by?”

“I — I —” she let out a few more sobs, before sniffling and continuing. “We never talked much, sir. But I was over at your r-ranch a little while back, with B-Brother Will and Brother Nathan. When Brother Nathan h-had to be corrected for gossiping about —”

“Well, that oughta jog his memory, huh?” she said with a click of her tongue against teeth as she shoved the woman’s head back down into the dirt. “Got a name for me yet, darlin’?”

“Brothers and Sisters and wayward souls in need of salvation alike, listen to the lows this sinner who would ask to be called a savior will stoop to in order to —”

“No! Please, please, please, no —” The woman cried up at Jessie, features that had been contorted in agony seeming to sink with hopelessness as John preached on. “I don’t want to die, I’ll do — anything! Please, I —” 

“Clock’s ticking!” Jestiny chimed into the radio. “Give me a fucking name!”

“Do you think you set the rules here?” John snapped, finally breaking down to resume addressing Jestiny directly. “Do you think any of this cuteness and cleverness is going to save you when —”

“I think I’m the one asking the fucking questions!” she shouted over pained screams. “What’s her name?!”

“Deputy Rook, mark my words —”

“Her name!” she screeched, hands tensing. “What’s her fucking name?!”

“Jessie —”

“Bzzzzzzzzzzz-zzzzzt!” She kept her jaw pressed down on the talk button as she held tight onto her skull and twisted, so that telltale snap of her neck followed by the sudden absence of screaming could be heard punctuating the mimicry of an incorrect buzzer noise she drew out. 

“So sorry, Caroline. No prize this time!” She released her hands to allow the woman’s skull to drop limp to the ground as she hopped up to stand, shifting her radio into her hand. “And a special thanks to all the Hope County viewers at home,” she enthused, pacing in circles around the dead body to run out unspent restless energy. “Be sure to tune in next week for another round of ‘Does John Seed Give a Minimal Fucking Shit About the Followers He Sends Out to Die?’ when the answer will still be hell fucking nope!”

She clicked the radio off with a final sharp inhale, clipping it back to her belt. She ran a hand through her hair as she tried to slow the still frantic heaves of her chest. 

She turned in about-face to find Adelaide and Sharky having emerged from their battle positions to stand in the open space of the field, staring on at her with wide eyes and hanging jaws. 

“What?” she asked, looking between the pair and the dead body at her feet with a shrug. “Did we start doin’ capture over kill and y’all forget to tell me, or something?”

Adelaide cleared her throat. “Killing is one thing, but sugar, did you have to drag it out for the poor gal like that?” she questioned, blinking away the look of shock with a shake of her head. “Edging is supposed to be for the bedroom, not the battlefield.”

“Making John Seed look like the lying, hypocritical, scumbag, piece of shit fraud that he is live on air is more satisfying than anything I’ve ever experienced in the bedroom,” Jestiny grunted in reply, nudging the corpse’s contorted arm with the toe of her boot. “She was gonna have to die anyways. At least her death proved a point.”

“Better than anything in the bedroom? Sounds like what we really need is to find you some more gifted lovers, then,” Adelaide mused, crossing her arms and looking down at the corpse with a pink lipstick frown. “And a, uh — more willing audience for the whole public humiliation kink deal. You know they have nightclubs for shit like that, right?”

sending no pressure tags out to @belorage @hctknives @fourlittleseedlings @galaxycunt @lordundying @florbelles @josephslittledeputy @afarcryfrommymain @poetikat @voidika @captastra @confidentandgood @deputyash @blissfulalchemist @shellibisshe @thedeadthree @nightbloodbix @miyabilicious @henbased @clicheantagonist @firstaidspray @strafethesesinners @jackiesarch @v0idbuggy @orionlancasterr @stacispratt @professorpineapple @strangefable @shallow-gravy @inafieldofdaisies @corvosattano @socially-awkward-skeleton @g0dspeeed @wrathfulrook @simplegenius042 + opt in/out for the wip day tag here!

[jangmi-latte]

ok I need to know am I the only one still attacked over Savanaclaw Rook? Like I'm probably one of the rare people that loves his current look and hair - I like how it makes him look more uncanny and sly but still very disciplined and he looks amazing in many cards - but omg, we could have gotten a tousled, muscular (well he still is but he's hiding it) wild-looking freckled Rook? And this was literally CANON? I'm extremely overwhelmed.

i have 6 hours of freedom left

ARE YOU LITERALLY QUESTIONING MEJQJDKAKFKAKFONAKDKW

I HAVE LOST MY SHIT, MY SANITY, MY DIGNITY, MY CHASTITY, MY NORMALITY, MY CONTEXTUALITY, I HAVE LOST EVERYTHING WHEN THEY REVEALED THE ROOK OF MY DREAMS WAS CANON (i still love him for who he is HE IS A CHANGED MAN [HE IS NOT])

he probbaly looked so cute (NO HE LOOKS WILD AND HOT) and from the fanarts i nearly wrecked havoc in my household because if THAT MAN was stalking me i would've made a run for it but if the current rook was stalking me while looking so innocent and magnifiquement mortel that's when i would hear my skeleton rattle from fear

LIKE LIKE the old rook, you'd sense that he's already this type to disturb people but is probably the liveliest in savanaclaw hence why leona dislikes him but the current rook?? HE LOOKS HARMLESS AT FIRST BUT the moment you make eye contact with those forest green fox-like eyes just staring at you from the distance then he'd suddenly talk to you and he's just able to retain this eye contacTWJDJKQKFOQJFOQJODNAKDLQKFNQOFNKQFW i'm sorry

i like rook in different flavors bUT DON'T PUT CURRENT AND PAST ROOK SIDE BY SIDE BECAUSE I'M GONNA HAVE. AVARDIAC ARREST

[dotster001]

Congrats on the 1k followers! I loved your matchup you did for me not too terribly long ago and thought I’d really love to participate in this event too, I hope you don’t mind

This is in request of twisted wonderland fandom.

1. The one who I took the hand off first was Malleus. I favored him in the beginning because I freaking love dragons, and those horns! 😂 yeah, sadly I’m a dork. Anywho, he was tall, dark and mysterious. Who isn’t immediately drawn to that type of enigma? Then to learn that he was never invited to meetings and what nots, I felt bad for him. Poor thing 😭

2. I enjoyed Malleus only short lived though, Rook Hunt’s flirting is what freaking drew me in. Lord have mercy! No character makes you feel quite loved and appreciate like he freaking does! He’s heavy on the flirting and praise… kind of hard to not like that (especially when you are a social outcast and overall black sheep). So, Rook Hunt has been my Home Screen and obsession for literally longer than any other character in any Otome or game or anime that I’ve ever freaking obsessed over. lol! I get excited whenever he pops up in events and stories! I’m obsessed over him like he is with Leona and Neige! 😭😭😭 it’s so sad!

3. Rook Hunt-he seems to be the kindest and least judgmental character. His smile and laugh are freaking infectious! His flirting! His voice actor does him major justice, that voice makes me melt every time! As a person who is extremely socially awkward (outside of internet, apparently😂😂) it is nice to know that there is a character who can actually understand exactly what you are thinking or needing without you having to actually voice it (however it also makes you feel vulnerable too!)

4. I think Malleus and I would get along as friends and that would be it. I don’t feel like I need to miss him as I still quite like his character and I enjoy the conversations him and Yuu have. However, my heart quite literally belongs to another…though his love and devotion to Vil and Neige would totally make me jealous and possessive…so pathetic, I know 😭

5. I’m an Aries and an infp. I’m socially awkward and introverted, shy and quiet. I have ptsd, depression and anxiety from being bullied in school (from kindergarten to junior year), a narcissistic and neglectful mother and an abusive father (so I’m not very trusting of others it takes awhile before I let most people in my life and if I do let you in just know I trust and care for you and am fiercely loyal and devoted and extremely protective). I have long hair that I always dye red as it is the only color that takes and actually looks decent on me. I have freckles and hazel eyes and am 5’5 1/2. I love lord of the rings, Harry Potter, and am now freaking obsessed with Wednesday ( I’m literally a mix between Wednesday and her roommate Enid!)i love swords, storms, rain (cold dreary weather!!!❤️❤️❤️). I enjoy reading and love chamomile tea! I love music and singing (can’t dance but can sing). I love artists like Aurora and Naika, neoni, sia…do not like country or rap. I prefer night time, not a fan of sun or heat. I’m a solitude and quiet individual who prefers to observe and not interact.

6. I honestly would prefer to be with Rook. I’d like something romantic. I like yandere, but let’s face it, if it were yandere, I’d sadly be the yandere. I’m too freaking obsessive. Possessive, jealous and downright territorial! However, luckily I’m not the person to act on it. My moral compass is decent for one, I’m also too shy and timid! I have a tendency to also not believe that someone could really really like me (sadly that was beat into me). I’m more fantasy driven rather than action oriented. Good lord I hope I haven’t scared ya away!

Anyway, thank you so much for doing these stories for us, again I really loved your matchup and appreciate your story telling ❤️❤️❤️ so sorry this was so freaking long!😂

(no worries about the length lmao, I'm glad you enjoyed your matchup back in the day of a couple months ago 😂 btw, my dad got me a sign for my dorm that says "no entrance except on party business" thought you'd appreciate)

Im Which we See a Snapshot of how Rook Woos his Lover

Rook had first spotted you when he was hunting observing the Rois de Dragons. The two of you were sipping tea on the Ramshackle porch, and having a riveting conversation about gargoyles (Rook could perfectly read lips). The way your eyes were shining in the evening light, it was love at first sight. And Rook handled it as any normal person would.

"Bonjour, mon petit lapin! J'taime! May I join your conversation?" He said, jumping out of the bushes, and  sweeping his hat off his head as he bowed before you. 

Luckily for him, you didn't speak French, at least not fluently. While both of you were startled by the man from the bushes, you figured with Malleus you would be safe. So you allowed him to join you both.

Four months later, you'd fallen for him just as hard as he'd fallen for you. He'd slowly lured you in with the biweekly hair touch ups and his tongue of gold.

Now that you were together, the hair touch ups might be a little too much for your heart.

One thing you could say about Rook, was that he didn't cheap out on hair dye. Honestly, you probably didn't even need to touch it up so often, but it had become a pattern that when the roots started to show, you would hang out in Rook's room after class as he did your hair.

He would apply hair dye while whispering compliments directly into your ear.

"Your eyes are glittering today with the stars that have bound us together. Tres magnifique!"

He would also hum, as he applied the dye, then washed it out, usually giving you an extra scalp massage as he did so. (You still couldn't decide whether teaching him "The Edge of Night" was good or bad).

He would blow dry your hair, and as he maneuvered the dryer, and your hair, he would gently caress the skin he touched.

By this point, his compliments would be slowly devolving into completely French.

"Ma Cherie, you are truly le plus bel être à avoir jamais vécu."

Then he'd press a kiss behind your ear, and whisper something like,

"Were I a meilleur poète, je pourrais te dire à quel point tu as volé mon cœur."

Then he'd slip himself into your lap, and tap your nose playfully while whispering into your neck,

"tu éclaires le monde et dissipe toute l'obscurité et l'ombre dans mon coeur."

He would continue working his fingers through your hair, as he waited for you to get more and more flustered under his touch. He wanted to kiss you. Badly. But a good hunter makes his prey come to him. 

And you always did, as he whispered in French to you, and nuzzled deeper into your neck, pressing soft kisses wherever his mouth landed.

"Rook."

You would always softly whisper his name. He would pull away and look into your eyes with a truly innocent expression.

"Mon lapin?"

Then you would give him an epic pout, and mutter something like, "I know what you're doing. Just kiss me already, you sadist."

He would gasp in mock surprise, and run his thumb along your pouting lips.

"Je suis desole! I have been so focused on your hair that I have neglected you! Ah! I am truly a heartless lover."

You would scowl at him, and be about to remind him that he was teasing you the entire time, but he would always cut you off with a kiss. Which would turn into two kisses. Which would become a cuddle pile of kisses that would last until the door would open, and you'd hear a proper melodic voice call….

"Oh for seven's sake. There's no need to do this every other Tuesday."

Ah, Vil. Ruiner of all the good times.

[aty-art-blog]

Rook Hunt lore spoilers!

(Evil Queen comparison with Vil Schoenheit and character analysis, Rook Hunt character analysis,comparison and parallelism with the huntman fron "Snow White" by Disney)

I really need to talk about the lore we got to see in chapter 6! I still can't belive how well studied Rook characterization is!

In chapter 6 we get to know that Rook was sorted in Savanaclaw dorm, he had different appearance, and then inspired by Vil decided to enter in Pomefiore dorm (even thought Vil told him not to in the beginning)...

Guys this is just the perfect transposition and adaptation of the story of the Huntman in "Snow white". The hunter in the beginning is devoted to the "hunt" and he decide (even if dubious) to take the heart of Snow, Rook at the beginning is sorted in Savanaclaw where he is the "hunter" that sorting define him as a hunter, someone who follow the ideology of the King of the beasts, his apperance is different his hair are long and neglected, trousers whith holes on the knees, and he have freckles due to the fact that he get sunburn easily; Rook already apreciate beauty but he feels like a spectator. The hunt man decide to hunt Snow following the orders of the beautiful Queen, he doesn't make a decision for himself he follow the orders.

Then inspired by Vil, by the beauty that he always admired form afar he understand that he can be more that a spectator and by himself(!) He decide to change his fate, he decide to take actions and not being the "hunter", he refuses to be part of Savanaclaw , even though it should be what he is more inclined to, and decide to follow his own path, like the huntman decide to not kill the little princess and decide beauty (he decide to not beacame a monster nor an assasin).

And here I leave the link to my previous Rook character analysis (intertwined with the character of Mowgli).

Rook chose his path because he was inspired by Vil diligence and beauty, and to finally not only be spectator but to follow his own beauty, he decide to be part of what he loves and enrolls to Pomenfiore.

I love how Vil , even though he represent the evil Queen, diverge in character.

He is real inspiration to others, he, even if strict, really cares about his dormitory students and schools mates, Vil in the overall is really a caring character (*chef kiss* to who wrote and created his character) while the Queen is obsessively self-centered and doesn't care about her people (she kills the huntman, she want to kill Snow, she's crazy and merciless, kind of the disgusting character... Her obsession is so over the top that even the beauty, that was her excuse to justify her actions, in front of her madness is cancelled when she transform herself for ever in an ugly terrifying old woman... She gives up on what was apparently her reason to hurt Snow "being the most beautiful" to be a total monster; essentially beauty was never the point to this woman, she was so crazy and a psychopath that hated her daughter/stepdaughter with no real reasons; She was only obsessed, she only wanted to get rid of her and nothing more (the queen has always been, probably, the most scary villain in Disney movies for me, unlike other villains, she has no real reason to be evil and disgusting... I'm amiss to say that I think she's worse than Frollo(that from what I saw is probably one of the most hated villain ever because of his realistic characterization) he is disgusting... and he represent very well racism and the faithful obsession that some people have, thus make him think that it justify all of his ill and crazy mad actions, and he stays attached to this justification until the very end...that's not the case of the evil Queen, she doesn't stay attached to her conviction nor to her justifications, she's crazy and "beauty" was never the reason, it was just a said justification to start her actions.

Thinking about the evil Queen, I really get goosebumps by the fact that Vil's reason to overblot is not Neige BUT that by doing something horrible because of jealousy, desparation due to the momentarily conviction that all his efforts was in vain,

Translation by @otome ayui on YouTube

He loses control becaming an horribile person inside... Vil is strict with himself before anyone else, when he realizes that he was going to be an horrible person for doing something horrible to someone else...he blots, because the real ultimate "ugly" is not about appareance but it is about who/how you are inside , what kind of person you are.

(in future I'll also add Vil's outcome in part 6, thus is really interesting!)

These are my observations and analysis: I was really looking forward to make one about Vil and Rook.🙏🏼 I really hope it may be interesting and of help to read the characters and story.

I'm looking forward to make a list with all the links to everything I wrote about Twisted Wonderland, so that people can find them easily👀

I love you all and wish you a lovely continuation🙏🏼

If you'd like some specific analysis and content suggest it in the comment! Tell me what are your favourite characters and wich you'd love to read observation and analysis .

[stalemateserial]

45

She's used to waking up the day after and needing to prepare. Fabricating an excuse for the welts and nail drags that wound up in spots clothes didn't fit over, or else why she was wearing a turtleneck in June. She used to pendulate between impish delight at playing a part so well, convincing everyone that there was no need to suspect her, and deep resentment at the fact that acting was a requirement, not a diversion.

Not this time. It's such a foreign sensation that a feeling in her chest insists that no, there must be something that has to be done. A compulsion frantically compels, demanding she find whatever crack in the foundation in need of papering over. What if Mission Control could see?

But they couldn't, could they? And even if they could, it was a bit late to talk her way out of it now. All that left was living it up while she could. She settles back into the compartment that cannot really hold the both of them, stamping minute kisses across stirring skin, cozying up into her arms again.

Groaning rumbles in her ear wake her up for the second and final time. A yawn, a stretch, a hand idly stroking through her hair, combing the mussed streaks of black straight again, all before she's opened her eyes. Judy smiles when she finally gets a glimpse of the brown irises underneath Ruth's fluttering lids, groggy from a deep and restful sleep. She's tracing star patterns into the freckles on her chest, giggling like a sorority girl.

"Hello…." Ruth mumbles, half-coherent but elated.

"Morning," Judy replies, rearing herself to Ruth's height to kiss her again. They linger, Ruth's hastening heartbeat announcing itself against Judy's skin. Another yawn and a stretch, and Judy frees herself from the cocoon, feeling very changed indeed. Judy's dressing herself in a few more layers of clothing, Ruth resting her head against her palm, blinking the sleep out of her eyes. Her shipmate does her a kindness and throws a few articles of clothing that were left drifting in the microgravity.

"We really did it, Judy."

"We did. I'm happy to say it was worth the wait."

"It's strange. This is the part where we'd jump in the shower, to make sure the perfume doesn't stay mixed, and we'd have to whisper so the neighbors didn't suspect anything, and we'd plot out exactly how whomever stayed the night leaves. We'd wait until the work day had well and truly started, then one of us would just have to go. We can't go see a movie, I have to be coy if I call her up. But here…"

Ruth turns a little red, now, laughing gently to herself. She starts off quiet; "We spend the night together, and then… we spend the day together! We can be as loud as we want, we can tear down the walls." She's raised her voice now, not from anger, but sheer defiance. She's crying out as if the vibrations could cut through the air and steel into the great vacuum. "I fucked Judy Martin! And there's not a damn thing you can do about it here!"

Judith laughs, getting Ruth back into her arms. "We're still playing the game, though, aren't we? Because you left your pawn open, and I'm taking it." As if to punctuate this, she kisses Ruth again, a lover's peck on the lips.

"So you're just leaving your rook open? My rook takes it, then."

"This is going to get interesting, isn't it?"

"It hasn't already?"

"Point taken."

They leave the sleeping quarters, hand in hand, in defiance of all those that are below them for the first time.

[clovers-n-roses]

Yuusona - Kat

“It isn’t what we say or think that defines us, but what we do”

Kat is a first year at NRC and one of the two students that live at Ramshackle dorm along with Grim. She’s easily tired but an all-around kind person that’s generally looked upon as a friendly, hardworking student and peer. She enjoys helping around campus when asked and can be found in the library reading or the Botanical Gardens.

Technical Information

Name: Klara Alexandra Theodora “Kat” Crawford

Other Names Kats, KK (Moonyuu) x’s girlfriend (Yuu H. jokingly) Katfish, Crawfish (Floyd) Madame Mutte (Rook) Herbivore (Leona) Child of Man (Malleus)

Voice claim: Asami Seto 

Biographical Information

Gender: Female

Pronouns: She/Her

Sexuality: Bisexual

Age: 18

Birthday: December 19th

Star sign: Sagittarius

Height: 160 cm (5’3)

Eye color: Lapis Blue

Hair color: Ink Black

Homeland: Midwest USA

Family: Alexander (Father), Unnamed mother

Professional Status

Dorm: Ramshackle

School year: First Year

Class: 1-A | Student no. 4

Occupation: Student, Vice Prefect

Club: Board Game Club (but honestly bounces around depending on her mood)

Best subject: History of Magic

Worse subject: Alchemy, Potionology

Fun Facts

Dominant hand: Right

Favorite food: Pepperoni Pizza

Least favorite food: Bananas

Likes: Cats | Books | Sweets| Sleeping | Flowers

Dislikes: Manipulators | Liars | Being Ignored | Whining | Entitlement

Hobby: Reading | Gardening | Baking

Talents: Archery | Eavesdropping

Appearance

Kat is an average-height young woman with a slender frame. She has long ink-black hair falling down to her mid-back. She parts it on the right side, tucking her hair behind her ear most of the time. It’s straight for the most part, having slight waves near the middle and ends. Her hair is very thick, and she often opts for pulling it into a ponytail. 

She has pale skin, with an abundance of freckles found heavily on her cheeks and over her nose. Along with her shoulders, the top of her back, and her arms. She has bright blue eyes, usually a lapis blue color, but they can appear a darker blue if the weather is more overcast. She wears a pair of silver round frame glasses, unless PE or goggles are required, then she opts for her contacts. 

A lobe piercing and three helix piercings on her left ear, and a lobe, cartilage, and helix piercing on her right ear.

Her uniform consists of a white long-sleeve button-down with a white & black tie. Along with that, she wears a black pleated skirt, with a pair of black spandex shorts underneath. Instead of the standard school jacket, she wears a beige cardigan over her uniform, accompanied by her dorm armband. She wears black socks that end at her lower calf with black converse. 

Personality

Kat is a kind and compassionate individual. She has no problem doing what is asked of her or helping someone out when they're in need. She likes to be useful to others, but she’s not naive or gullible. She will refuse to aid someone if she feels like someone is trying to take advantage of her and her kindness. 

She’s naturally an intelligent young woman that easily picks up and remembers things. The more interest she holds in a topic, though, means she’s more likely to put more effort in. Kat takes thorough notes in class and will study before exams. She has a bad habit of procrastinating and sometimes starts things at the last minute. 

Besides academic intelligence, Kat is quite emotionally intelligent. She can pick up people’s mood shifts and will do her best to make someone feel better. She has no problem comforting people, giving them their space, or letting them vent to her. 

Kat is also a very calm and relaxed person. She doesn’t see the point in getting worked up over small things. When problems arise, she tackles them head-on logically rather than fretting over them. On the off chance she does get worked up, be it anger or sadness, Kat calms herself down and attempts to alleviate what made her upset.

Due to her relaxed and kind nature, she has a tendency to draw in people from all walks of life. And has found herself making friends or at least acquaintances with many types of people. While not naturally charismatic or outgoing, Kat can easily make friends with people. 

Trivia

Kat is an anagram of her first name and two middle names. She does not like being called Klara.

If she were in a dorm, it’d most likely be Heartslabyul

She’s allergic to Penicillin

Her favorite flowers are daisies and tulips

She cannot sleep with any sort of light on during the night

She doesn’t like looking people in the eye and will avoid eye contact unless she trusts you.

When she lies to strangers, she’ll look them in the eye. She physically can’t bring herself to lie to people she trusts.

She has a cat back in her homeworld, an orange chunk named Cheeto

Extra Names (Pet Names)

Love | My Love (Riddle) Cupcake | Sweetheart (Trey)

[omgrachwrites]

Beneath The Mask - Jacob Frye

Pairing: Jacob Frye x Reader

Summary: When you witness Evie Frye assassinate the Templar Lucy Thorne, the future of London is thrown into disarray and Jacob is left heartbroken.

Warnings: tiny bit of fluff, angst

Words: 1260

A/N: So I’m obsessed with the Frye Twins again so I wanted to write this fic, not quite sure how I feel about it but I hope you guys enjoy this and please let me know what you think! Also, can we all agree that Enzo is the perfect face claim for Jacob? I love you all! xxx

The smog of London filled the air – and your chest – turning the world around you grey, a chill ran through the night air causing you to shiver but that was nothing compared to the racing of your heart. Your heart was beating so fast that you were afraid that it would burst out of your chest. Trailing behind Evie, you anxiously bit at your lip as you noticed how tense her body was.

As you rode the small boat over the murky waters of the Thames, you tried calling out to Evie but your voice got lost in the howling wind. You glanced over at Evie’s face and even after assassinating Lucy Thorne there was no sign of regret in her eyes. However, when she looked over at you, her hazel eyes hardened and it was difficult to believe that this was the same woman – your best friend – who had joked with you as you shared a pint the night before.

“Evie,” you started, feeling the guilt close around your heart as you neared the Frye’s train.

A furious look crossed Evie’s freckled face as she whipped around to look at you, “when were you ever going to tell us?!” she waved her arms around like a mad woman. You sighed and fiddled with your fingers as you looked at your feet upon the filthy floor, “you were never going to tell us were you?” Evie whispered and you looked back up at her, her face was impassive, she was good at hiding her feelings when she was hurt, “you’re supposed to be my friend.”

“Evie, how was I supposed to tell you? Please, let me explain,” you begged, your heart feeling heavy as your eyes filled with tears and you reached out for her. Your heart splitting when she backed away. It wasn’t supposed to end up this way.

“I should kill you right now!”

“That’s a good point, why haven’t you? You’ve had plenty of chances, you could have killed me along with Lucy, or on the way back here.”

Evie rolled her eyes like the reason was obvious, “because Jacob has feelings for you, you know that and if I killed you there would be no way that Jacob would believe me about who you really are. I’d lose him forever, so you’re going to tell Jacob the truth, if you don’t then I will. He can decide what to do with you, I’m done with you,” she snarled before retreating into the train.

You sighed, running your hands through your hair, you were very worried about what was to come, “what the hell is the matter with Evie? Other than the usual,” Jacob, Evie’s twin brother – and your lover – chuckled as he met you on the train’s platform.

His handsome face made your heart stop and a wave of sadness washed over you as you glanced up at him. The smile on Jacob’s face dropped.

“Are you alright, love?” he asked as he cupped your cheek, his hazel eyes scanning over your face as he brushed his lips against yours.

His concern almost made you cry but you managed to smile as you rested your hands on his firm chest, “we um need to talk, there’s something that I need to tell you,” you hesitating, clearing your throat, “can we go for a drink?”

Jacob raised a scarred eyebrow as he gestured to the inside of the train, “you realise that we have a small pub right here on the train where the beer is free?” he chuckled.

When you told Jacob the truth, you didn’t want to be on a train surrounded by Rooks and Assassins, “I want to be alone with you.”

Jacob grumbled and complained but eventually, he agreed and you found a small pub in White Chapel. Jacob took a sip of his beer and his handsome face was full of worry as he looked over at you, “really, are you alright, Y/N?”

With an aching heart, you leaned over the table to kiss him gently, he deserved to know, no matter how scared you were. When you sat back, he took your hands in his big ones, “I saw Evie assassinate Lucy Thorne,” you sighed, taking a huge swallow of your beer.

Jacob frowned as he rubbed his thumb over your hand, “why were you there? You’re a Rook, not an assassin.”

You closed your eyes, this was it, “I was there because,” you hesitated, “I’m a Templar, Crawford Starrick is my father.”

At once, Jacob’s face changed, he dropped your hand and went for his blade, quick as a flash, you slammed Jacob’s hand down on the table, making him drop his weapon, “I need to explain, let me explain.”

His face faltered slightly before his lip curled with disgust and he snarled at you, “you have 2 minutes, better make it good or I won’t hesitate to kill you.”

“When you and your sister began killing off his Templars, he started to get scared, I was over in America on a job so he sent for me. To find you and Evie,” you bit your lip, “you two are too trusting, it wasn’t hard to join the Rooks, nobody knows who I am. Except for my father and his employees.”

“So you lied to us? Betrayed us? You’ve failed in your mission because my sister and I are still kicking,” hurt flashed in his eyes before they were clouded over by anger once more and you hated yourself for hurting him.

“Jacob,” you reached out to him and he let you take his hand, a stark contrast to his sister, but maybe he was still in shock, “I was biding my time, I didn’t want to be too hasty, and then I fell in love with you. My father made out like you were my enemies but you just want to create a better London, I was so blinded by my father. The night that I stopped being a double agent for my father was the morning you took me to watch the sunset on the top of Big Ben, that was the when I fell in love with you Jacob. I love you. If I wasn’t at the White Tower, Lucy Thorne would have grown suspicious, I had no choice.”

Jacob sat back, letting go of your hand and he drained the last of his beer before slamming the glass back down on the table and throwing a couple of gold coins into the middle of the table, “that’s a nice story, Y/N, and I must admit, you had me and Evie fooled. But it doesn’t change what you are, who you are, you’re still a Templar. So, what you are going to do is get your things from the train and take a ship back to America, I never want to see you again, ever,” he sniffed, his eyes glistening with tears as he got up from the table and stalked out of the pub.

Tears streamed down your face and over your lips as you watched the most beautiful man walk away from you, you should have known that Evie would have come after Lucy Thorne. Your father had ruined everything. Your heart was broken and you were one for doing crazy things when you were hurt, so you had to do it. You created the plan, the plan to kill your father, it would take the kill away from the Frye twins but it would be the best plan for London. For everyone. For Jacob.

[bosspigeon]

a space between the shadows

My VERY last-minute prompt fill for @wayhavensummer, which turned into YET ANOTHER character study of my Sad Werewolf Detective~ Prompt: 🌈First Pride, Belonging Pairing: Adam/Male Detective, Bonus Found Family Vibes~ Words: 2137 Summary: Arlo has some... complex feelings around his identity, his relationship with his closest friend, and who he is supposed to be in a place like Wayhaven. CW for allusions to homophobia, slurs, and implications of religious trauma/bigotry

Seeing as someone actually bothered to submit paperwork this time, Arlo feels it’s safe to assume there will be no (or at least fewer) strange supernatural occurrences involved in this festival. Still, he’s not sure what to make of it.

“I don’t… have to go, do I?” he asks Tina.

Tina blinks slowly at him, as if he’s suddenly become the stupidest creature to ever draw breath. “Yes,” she says simply.

“I’m just a detective, and it’s Wayhaven, it won’t be anything crazy, so I don’t have to be there to keep things—”

“Oh, no, of course not,” she interjects, well acquainted with his nervous babbling by now. He’s barely exhaled his relieved sigh when she leans her elbows on his desk and grins in his face. “We’re going in a purely civilian capacity.”

“But I don’t want to,” he says quietly, and he knows he sounds like a pouty little kid, but he can’t help it.

Tina pouts mockingly right back at him. “I don’t care.”

And that sort of sums up their entire relationship, he thinks.

Adam, of course, is about as pleased as Arlo is. Unfortunately, Adam has not yet learned what Arlo knew by sixteen— that there is no force in the known universe more powerful than Tina Poname's stubbornness. She simply can't be defeated.

"She's a little bisexual juggernaut," Arlo sighs. He's annoyed, sure, but he can't keep the fondness from his tone as he watches her swan back and forth from the safety of the sitting room.

Naturally, Tina and Felix get on like a house on fire, and the two of them have commandeered Arlo's studio. The floor is a minefield of water cups, washable paint, and drying posters. Felix has Tina's flag tied around his neck like a cape.

Mason disappeared the second the first tube of paint was popped open, though his sharpy retort of "I like what I like" when Tina asked what his persuasion was (so that she could make him a poster as well) did launch her into her practiced dissertation on the intricacies of bi and pan identities, and how they mean similar things, how at their core neither are meant to be exclusive, and it is simply a matter of personal identity and choice which one suits an individual best.

"Have you been to a Pride festival before?" Nate asks, setting down two mugs of tea on Arlo's coffee table, carefully out of the way of the map of Wayhaven he and Adam are poring over. More for Adam's peace of mind than anything. It's mostly taking place in the local park, and while there will be a parade, the route is short enough to keep things contained.

"Yeah, once," Arlo says with a shrug, and he and Adam are sitting close enough on the sofa for their shoulders to brush with the motion. "When I was at uni."

Nate hums and sits down in the armchair across from them. "I assume it was… unpleasant for you?"

Arlo smiles, flustered, and rubs at the back of his neck. "It was fine. Fun, even. I mean, I went to art school, so the turnout was great. Nerve-wracking, yeah, because so many people, but seeing your anthropology professor riding a mechanical bull in little more than nipple pasties is one hell of a distraction."

He can feel the scandalized look Adam is giving him, but he knows if he turns to meet his eyes, he'll blush all the way to his hairline, so he sips deeply from his mug instead.

Nate tilts his head, lips pursed. There's a brief twitch of amusement to them, but it settles as his brow furrows thoughtfully. "I'm afraid I don't understand. If you had a good time at the last festival you attended, why are you so hesitant to participate in one closer to home?"

Arlo looks down at his mug, thumbing at a chip in the black enamel, exposing an ellipse of white ceramic underneath. The silence is heavy, and he knows if he lets it go on too long, Nate's going to start apologizing, so he sighs hard through his nose before he barrels on. "It's… it's different here. Back at school, I wasn't… I wasn't the Detective's weird brat. I was just Priestley, the weird performing arts major." He picks a little harder at his mug. "Might sound odd, but I didn't have to perform there, not the way I do here. I could just be Arlo. Not a shadow. Just… the fuckoff huge goth from your sociology lecture hall who just so happens to like men."

He doesn't look up, but he can tell Nate is chewing over the information. As he considers, Adam shifts on the sofa, closing the bare inch of space between them so their thighs press together. Arlo peeks up, and Adam's giving him that look. The one that makes him go all soft around the edges. "I know small towns can be… conservative," he begins, and his mouth twists distastefully around the word. "But I have never gotten the impression that Wayhaven was…"

"Anything but refreshingly progressive," Nate finishes for him.

Arlo looks up with a wry smile. "Yeah, no, it's great on that front. I'm damned lucky I didn't have to grow up with Rebecca's family. It's just…" He shifts his weight, and before he can sprout claws to really start menacing his poor mug, Adam plucks it from his hands and sets it out of the way. "There's a legacy for me here," he murmurs. "One I never asked for. Sure, I don't have to worry about getting called slurs," he chews his lip, "at least, not anymore after the whole Graham thing, but I'm still… I don't really get to be me here. People here don't look at me and see Arlo. They see Rook's kid. They see Detective Priestley the Second." He huffs out a laugh. "I didn't even get to come out on my own here. I honestly don't think I ever have outside of school. Everyone knows everything they want to know about me, because I've been a landmark since I was born. This month, it's just a landmark with a rainbow flag."

Nate is giving him that sad-eyed look he gets whenever Arlo and Rebecca get into it. The one that says he wants to help, but he's not sure how.

Arlo rubs his hands over the worn denim of his dark jeans, picking at a frayed thread. There’s a spiderweb of cracks forming in the fresh coat of black polish on his thumb where the nail has begun to thicken in response to his emotional state. He sighs a little, but he doesn’t have the time to sink too deeply into his own head, because there is a pale hand creeping cautiously over his.

“Why do it, then?” Adam asks, head tilted and brows drawn, as if he truly doesn’t understand. “Officer Poname cares deeply for you. I am sure she would understand if you were honest with her.” His lips twitch faintly, and the smile he gives Arlo is touching in its earnest, if stilted, effort. “Bisexual juggernaut or no. Though, she is only little to you.”

Arlo snickers weakly, turning his face away so he can hide behind the fall of his hair. Adam doesn’t let him hide, though, brushing it out of his face, knuckles skimming the detective’s cheekbone. Arlo can’t help but sigh and lean into the touch, eyes fluttering closed.

There’s a crash and a cry from the other room, but it’s Nate’s startled noise that makes the two of them leap apart as if burned, putting a few inches of space between them.

Arlo’s face flushes hotly when Nate smiles at them, and there’s a mischievous twinkle to his dark eyes. “I wonder what that’s about!” he exclaims, clapping his hands together and springing to his feet. “I’ll go check on them, shall I? Make sure they’re not causing too much trouble.” And before Arlo can even stutter out a… something—an explanation, or maybe an apology for third-wheeling the poor man—Nate is striding off towards the studio with a spring in his step the detective can’t help but find incredibly mocking.

He closes the door behind him with a parting smile and a decisive click.

They’re left on the sofa sitting guiltily apart like a pair of teenagers caught canoodling, and surprisingly it’s Adam who breaks the stalemate by huffing through his nose and turning to Arlo again, reaching out for his hand and tugging it between his own. “You were saying?” he presses gently, his thumb tracing ticklish lines alone Arlo’s palm.

Arlo tilts his head and sighs “I guess I just… Tina’s like my sister, you know? And we wound up going to different universities in different cities, and I didn’t really get to share any of those big milestones with her. She’s not the type to be jealous I made other friends or went and had fun without her, but it feels sort of… I want to be able to share this with her, since she was one of the first people who ever bothered to… to not just care about me, but to care about me enough to…” He furrows his brow and chews at his lip, trying to figure out how to make sense of the feelings he’s never really been able to express out loud. “Neither of us belonged here, really. Sure, I was born here, but I never really felt like I was supposed to be here. I just felt like I was filling a space someone more important than me left vacant.”

He looks down at Adam’s hands, sturdy and strong, tangled up around his freckled, long-fingered one. He swallows. “Tina’s the one who looked at that space, then decided it wasn’t for either of us, and she carved out one that was.” He smiles fondly, thinking of the way Tina bullied her way into his lonely life and gave it some much-needed color. “She made a space where we could both fit. It was messy, and awkward, and we were still outcasts, but we were outcasts together.” He laughs, and it sounds suspiciously wet even to his own ears. Thankfully, Adam doesn’t bring attention to it. “Christ, I’m rambling. Does this make any sense at all?”

Adam is quiet, thoughtful for a moment, but he squeezes Arlo’s fingers to draw his eyes up again. He’s smiling, a real smile, one that Arlo is seeing more and more these days. A man could get addicted to a smile like that. “It does,” he murmurs, bringing Arlo’s hand to his mouth to brush a kiss to his palm. It’s such a simple little touch, it barely lasts a second, but it steals all the air from Arlo’s lungs.

Adam shifts, and his face scrunches a bit. “While I won’t say I am looking forward to the chaos, I am…” He looks up at Arlo again, his brows drawn, his jaw set with the same fierce determination with which he stares down trappers. “I am honored to share this with you.”

It is really not fair, the way he can just say things like that, things that would sound trite and cheesy coming from anyone else, with such naked honesty. Arlo has no choice but to kiss him. He’s rewarded by a sweet, startled noise rumbling against his mouth, but he draws back before they can get too distracted, seeing as their friends are just a room away. If Adam is pouting, Arlo’s certainly not going to be the one to tell him.

“I guess, in a way, it’s a first for the both of us, right?” he coughs, just to ease the heavy atmosphere a bit. “My first Pride in Wayhaven, and your first entirely.” He pokes Adam in the chest. “We’ll have to get you a flag. You look good in pastels.”

“Are you certain the rainbow is not too at odds with your aesthetic?” Adam teases in return.

“Goth is a state of mind,” Arlo replies archly.

They laugh quietly together, shifting again to close the distance between them. Adam turns to face Arlo more fully, their shoulders bumping in a way that is incredibly comforting in its charming awkwardness. “What is wrong with Agent Priestley’s family?” he asks, keeping his voice low so as not to draw the attention of their companions chattering in the other room.

Arlo tries to smile, but it comes off as more of a tense grimace. “Catholic,” he snorts.

Adam’s expression mirrors his so perfectly, Arlo has to clap a hand over his mouth so he doesn’t bark out a laugh. “Ah,” the vampire says primly. “I understand.”

Arlo gives up and collapses against the vampire, snickering helplessly into his neck.

[unleashedart]

Diabetic Showdown

Happy (late) birthday @strafethesesinners I’ve had so much fun writing stuff together and we talked about this one a lot but never actually wrote it so I hope you like it. I don’t know why but I wrote it from Cooper’s POV. Just straight up stole your man… anyways…

Summary: Ryan and Cooper’s first meeting is more than a little eventful.

Rating: T

“S-36 to dispatch! We are going to need PD over here, quickly please!” The slightly distressed radio message came over slightly staticky but Cooper jolted up immediately.

He was still relatively new to the job but he always was ready to jump in to defend people who were in trouble.

“Received S-36 we will dispatch PD immediately.” The dispatcher responded back.

“Rook, do you know what that means?” Deputy Pratt was his partner for the day to help show him around while he was still new.

Cooper disliked Pratt but he didn’t have a choice but to follow the man around all day.

“Yeah, it sounds like someone needs help. I think we are nearby.” Cooper said.

“No, dipshit- I mean yes, we are going to go to that but- ughhh nevermind I’ll tell you later.” Pratt growled irritatedly.

He picked up the radio and announced, “Pratt and McCoy, we are only 5 minutes away we will respond over.”

“Received. Let us know if you need back up.” The dispatcher acknowledged.

“Anyways I was saying, do you know what S-36 is and the radio signs?” Pratt asked.

“No.” Cooper shrunk back a little.

“Each letter before the number means something different. D is for driver. They just drive the ambulances. B is for EMT basics. P is for the paramedics and S is for the supervisors. It just helps us identify each type of person. The fire department also has letters before their numbers but usually they will say engine nine or whatever. EMS has to be difficult.” Pratt rolled his eyes, “at least since this new guy came and reworked a lot of protocols with his fancy city stuff. Things are a lot different here in Montana than the big city.”

Cooper nodded along to the first part and hoped that Pratt would stop talking soon. He didn’t really care about the technical stuff and wanted to get to the helping people.

“What the fuck.” Pratt and Cooper stared at the scene in front of them as they pulled in.

There was a middle aged lady attempting to throwing heavy stones at a young woman and ginger haired man who were standing too far away for the lady to reach them. She appeared to be rather weak and unable to throw each rock more than a couple inches. She was crying and screaming wildly.

“Hey! What is going on here?” Pratt and Cooper ran out of their car.

“Hello fellas!” The ginger man grinned at them as if they were talking over a morning coffee. “This is Miss Berkeley. She is diabetic and I believe her blood sugar is rather low or maybe it’s high but it’s probably low, we can’t check but obviously she’s a little upset right now so if you guys want to go play catch with her so we can get her medicated that would be great!”

Cooper stared blankly at the Ginger’s face. He was attractive and held a weird balance of cockiness and calm despite the situation. He has bright blue eyes like Cooper’s own and a smattering of freckles across his face. There was a single scar going horizontally across his nose. It was still red and pink meaning it was new within the year most likely. Cooper wondered what the story behind that was. Maybe he did something dumb like slip in the bathtub. Either way the scar added a certain kind of charm to his face. Cooper barely listened to the words but the casualness of his tone and note of authority made Cooper believe he was very good at what he did.

Cooper tore his eyes away from the pretty new ginger and at the lady who was picking up another large rock. He marched forwards the lady without hesitation and grabbed the rock from her grasp. She shrieked and lunged at Cooper only for him to side step her and quickly grab a hold of her arms behind her back.

“Ok y’all, I got her for you.” Cooper looked up to see the smile on the Ginger’s face.

“Thank you so much…” the ginger came forwards.

“Cooper. McCoy.” Cooper looked down at him.

“I’m Ryan Erkhart. That was very impressive but now we must get her onto the stretcher and into the ambulance.” Ryan pointed at the stretcher a few feet away.

“Well sure thing!” Cooper squeezed the woman’s biceps tightly and corralled her over to the stretcher were they laid her down. She was quiet and muttering to herself until they attempted to buckle her in where she resumed her screaming and crying. Her limbs thrashed wildly as she attempted to throw them off.

“Lily! Go grab the soft restraints!” Ryan called as he quickly grabbed a hold of one of her arms and Pratt grappled with the legs.

“So Cooper, you must be new. I promise you that it’s not always like this.” Ryan gave him a grin. “I need you to bring her arm up above her head and tie it there. We tie one arm up above their head and one arm down by their waist so they can’t get momentum.”

Cooper nodded and accepted the restraint from Lily. Once the woman was safely secured and lifted into the ambulance Cooper watched as Ryan and Lily worked but his eyes kept drifting towards the ginger as he seemed to become a completely different person. He watched as Ryan softly spoke to the patient even though she just attempted to throw rocks at him. He even jumped in to restrain the patient without hesitation which threw Cooper off for a moment. He was used to defending those who were smaller or less capable.

“Miss Berkeley would you please eat some of this glucose? Your sugar is low and I would really rather you eat this than me start an IV on you because I know you won’t like that.” Ryan waved the tube of glucose in front of her.

The woman grumbled but eventually opened her mouth. Ryan slowly started feeding her glucose as her hands were still restrained. Suddenly the woman jerked back and spat all the sugar directly at Ryan’s face.

“THIS IS DISGUSTING! YOU BASTARDS ARE THE DEVIL. DON’T FEED ME YOUR POTIONS!” She wailed and started shaking the restraints again.

“Ryan!” Both Lily and Cooper jumped to his aid.

“Ugh, I’m ok but now I’m gonna have to do an accidental exposure form and hope she doesn’t have Hepatitis or something.” Ryan wiped the sugar from his face and grabbed a bottle to wash his eyes out with. “I’ll be right back to sedate her and then start an IV so we can give her glucose.”

Cooper watched with worry as Ryan dumped several bottles of sterile water into his eyes. Eventually he came back and accepted the towel handed to him. Cooper stared at his wet hair the clung to his face and drenched the front of his shirt.

“Do you want to press charges?” Pratt asked impatiently.

“No. It’s ok.” Ryan shrugged. “She really is a nice lady. I’ve met her a few times before. When she wasn’t hypoglycemic, she showed me her teapot collection once. She’s just confused and sick.”

“Right. Whatever you say.” Pratt sighed. “Well if you’re done with us can we leave?”

“I think one of you should accompany us to the hospital.” Ryan walked back over to Miss Berkeley who was still screaming somehow.

“Cooper you’re with them. I’ll find you later.” Pratt turned around without a second thought.

Cooper opened his mouth to remind Pratt that he had no idea how to find him or what to do but he was already back in the car. Cooper turned to look at Ryan and Lily as Ryan injected a sedative into her arm. The effect was almost immediate as she settled down and Ryan started the IV to give her the medication. Cooper enjoyed watching him work. The way his nimble fingers made it all look so easy. He barely knew this man but already Cooper was fascinated.

“Well?” Cooper snapped out of his daze to see Ryan holding his hand out to get into the back of the ambulance. “We are ready to leave.”

“Right, coming.” Cooper said sheepishly as he grabbed Ryan’s hand.

“Welcome aboard, cowboy.” Ryan patted him on the back.

Cooper was sure that this was going to be the start of something very, very interesting. He hoped that his and Ryan’s path crossed a lot more in the future.

[vesuvian-american-fics]

better with time. Ch 16

you're not safe.

You're hit with a harsh reality check. Just because you're not out there, beyond the walls, doesn't mean you're safe. (AO3)

Words: 1,570

“What are we doing here... it’s been two hours and nothing.” Connie complained, holding his head in his hands. Sasha only hummed lazily in response, a blank look to her eyes. You shook your head at their conversation before averting your attention to Bertholdt’s and Reiner’s chess game.

“Think of it like a day off, we don’t have any training or expeditions today since we’re here. We aren’t even dressed for work.” Sasha said after the quiet threatened to put her to sleep.

“Don’t you find that odd? Being in our plain clothes and not allowed to do anything. Even more suspicious, everyone outside is armed...” Reiner chimed in while Bertholdt took his time expertly deciding where to place his rook. You shifted uncomfortably, knowing exactly why everyone was here unarmed. They’re investigating us to weed out any more titans in the ranks, and it only makes sense that you’re here too, according to Hange. You decided to change to subject before the scouts got any more suspicious.

“W-what are expeditions like? On a good day, I mean?” You asked awkwardly. The table lapsed into silence for a moment before Bertholdt responded.

“On an ideal expedition no one dies, we count how many titans are within forty kilometers of the wall, and then we head home by lunch. We haven't experienced an ideal expedition.” He cleared his throat after his last comment and watched as Reiner placed his knight down onto the wooden chess board.

“Oh... I’m sorry I shouldn’t have asked––”

“No, don’t be sorry Y/N it all comes with the work! Bertholdt and I understand as much, I’m not too sure about these kids here.” He said, chuckling as he nodded towards Connie and Sasha starting a lazy game of I Spy.

“Kids? Aren’t you only a few years older than them?” You laughed, getting to know Reiner more today was nice. He seemed like a funny guy and dependable, at the very least by the younger scouts. You adored his close relationship to Bertholdt, they seemed a lot like brothers in your eyes. A faint blush tickled Reiner’s cheeks at your words, making Bertholdt stifle a small laugh before refocusing himself with the game of chess.

“I like to think of myself as a big brother to a lot of these guys.” He said, stumbling over his words just a bit, you supposed he’s shy when talking about his feelings.

“I like to think of you as a warrior...” Bertholdt cuts in, he had a small smile on his lips but they didn’t quite reach his eyes. You didn’t pay that any mind, no one else seemed to notice besides Reiner anyway.

“Well anyway, Y/N, how old are you?” The blonde brute asked, changing the subject. You thought about it for a moment, you thought about your features and how you looked in the mirror. You didn’t look old per say but in your heart, you knew you weren’t around their age. The way you carried yourself, you factored in the time you spent as a titan, and how when you woke up your hair was overgrown. You can’t imagine you had your hair so long it almost dusted the floor in your past life so you decided to take a guess.

“To be generous, I’ll guess I’m in my twenties at the very least. Twenty-five to shoot for the middle?” You added, shrugging your shoulders.

“Oh really? You don’t look a day over a hundred!” A snarky voice called from over your shoulder. It was Ymir, she stood behind you with two drinks in hand, one for herself and the other, you imagined, was for Christa. You frowned at her words, but shook them off with a small laugh.

“One hundred and twenty-five then, I suppose.” You said, giving Ymir a short smile. Ymir tried to look annoyed with you but her resolve crumbled, a small smirk playing around her lips. Up close you noted the way her freckles danced about as she spoke, her eyes narrowing at you, no real venom to it. Ymir was interesting to say the least, though thorny from time to time.

“Ymir! Stop teasing!” Christa called from the back of the room, without missing a beat Ymir turned on her heels and made her way back to her friend.

“Alright alright, I’m only playing around!” You heard her say nonchalantly. Turning back to your table you caught Bertholdt and Reiner sharing some intense eye contact before they broke away and looked back to the game before them. It was odd but you couldn’t think more about it before Connie and Sasha showered you with questions.

“Do you remember anything about being a titan?!” Sasha asked, scooting over to be across from you. Connie scooched forward now too into your personal space to ask his own invasive questions.

“Was it fun being so big? Do people even taste good?” He asked, his golden eyes boring into your own. His eyes were so large it was almost unnerving, you pushed back on his shoulders so that he was sitting properly again and not leaning forward to you.

“Okay, okay! I don’t remember much alright, and I definitely don’t remember... eating anybody. I’m glad for that!” You said, and for the next half hour you answered questions, paying no mind to the way you drew attention from other scouts, or the way Ymir’s stare made the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end.

“So... How’d you come back?” Connie asked, his brows knitted together in thought.

“W-well, I hadn’t eaten so the... my titan was frail. Hange told me they don’t need to eat to survive but still I was weakened. Hadn’t moved for years and just suddenly it’s like I could hear the outside world. But with my own regular ears, it was muffled, and my back felt warm. And so... I just moved, and it felt different. It wasn’t the titan but my own body. I’m not sure I think time and lack of food, and the fact that I somehow kept sane through it all helped. That’s all I remember. I’m not even sure how or why I was a titan. It sounds impossible!” You said, finally silencing yourself after rambling trying to piece together your past.

“Well from our perspective, Levi all but ripped you from out of that titan. We thought you were eaten and cutting your way out with all the steam but it was coming out of you too.” Reiner said, his once laxed attitude nowhere to be found. He sounded serious and cold now, the muscles of his arms flexed.

“He dropped you in Reiner’s arms and we took you back to base. You looked like Eren with the little titan muscle things attached to your face. Egh!” Sasha added, sounding a little queasy as she recalled the events. Your brows raised; this was news to you. You touched at your cheek as you took in her words.

“And you were naked.” Connie added, snickering as he disclosed the information. A furious blush formed on your face, frazzled you slammed your head down onto the table before you to hide your shame. The force knocking over a few pieces of Bertholdt and Reiner’s chess game to the point that they decided to abandon the game all together.

“Why would you tell me that!” You whined, Connie always seemed like the childish type, his playful antics only growing with Sasha nearby. You groaned, what a great first impression you had with Levi. Hell, with the rest of the scouts as well. You were so new to everything that happened the moment you were free that you hadn’t even noticed you were unclothed. You continued to furiously shake your head, trying in vain to free yourself from the memory.

“That looks like a good idea.” Sasha said with a yawn. She dropped her own head harshly onto the wooden table, for a nap you suppose. She was only there for a moment before she snapped her head up, a fear-stricken expression on her.

“I hear thuds! Like footsteps!” She shouted, out of breath. You didn’t understand what was happening but she caught the attention of everyone in the room. A bead of sweat slipped down Reiner’s face.

“Get serious Sasha... If you’re suggesting that there’s titans that would mean... That would mean that Wall Rose fell.” He said, not sounding like he wanted to believe Sasha’s words, but his expression told another story.

Titans... here?

“Titans are coming?” You said, your voice trembling, you hadn’t seen a titan since you were a titan. The anxiety pierced through your, your heart thrumming painfully fast.

“It’s true! I really hear it!” She said standing with her hands in the air. Your hands began to tremble, palms feeling clammy. Bertholdt noticed your fear, his eyes darting between you and Reiner. Before Sasha could continue, Nanaba was outside the window with a cold look in her eye.

“Multiple titans, five hundred meters to the south. They’re coming right this way.” She informed, addressing the room. Your mouth fell open, this couldn’t be happening. You never had time to address your own fear of titans. You had struggled with nightmares of them and of the hell you endured out there. You shook your head slowly, trying to will your mind that this was all a very vivid dream.

“No...”

[b3k1720]

Kidnapped

Massive trigger warning! : swearing, kidnapping, violence, corporal punishment, abuse and child labour. Not going far in to detail but I don’t know what’s triggering for some and not for others.

................

Ever Since Jacob had arrived in London and met Clara he has always been trying to eradicate child labour.

But no matter his efforts children always seem to wind back up in the factories....

Whether by choice, desperation of need or by force...

It was a seemingly normal day for the Frye family, Wednesday morning Rebekah sent Amelia and Emmette off to school with a hug and a kiss.

“When you get home for lunch there will be chocolate cake waiting so don’t take long, it goes cold quick” she announced.

“Okay mum!” Emmette answered with a large smile, extremely excited at the thought of gorging on cake then going back to school to brag about it to his friends.

“Come on we gotta go or we’ll be late Emmy” Amelia urged as she grabbed his hand and pulled him out the door.

The siblings walked down the Main Street of the strand, or more in their case jogged.

DING DING!, sounded the bell of Big Ben.

“Oh no we’re going to be late!”

“Don’t worry I know a short cut” Emmette offered as he pointed to the alley near them,

“That’ll take us to class in less than five minutes my friend Danny told me about it!”

Amelia looked to the alley...she didn’t know if it was a good idea...

“But mum and dad said not to go through alleys..” she answered in a worried tone.

“Hey do you want to get the cane because I don’t” Emmette huffed.

“No...ok but we gotta be quick!” Amelia quickly yelled to her brother before she started to run in to the alleyway.

Emmette followed close behind, not stopping at all!

Halfway though their path was blocked...by men in red.

“Hello kiddies...where are you both off to?” on of them called out with a grin.

Both the children took a step back, their father warned them about the blighters....although years ago he took control of London from them there was always those who stayed loyal...

“We are going to school...please we are already late” Amelia tried to beg, she didn’t want any trouble to start...they had some defence training but it would be useless against five large men with weapons.

“Oh I don’t think you lot need school, it’s pretty useless when you think about it” another man commented with a chuckle.

“Besides I think you’d both do well at the brick making plant...don’t you think boys?” Another added which caused the others to agree.

By this point even Emmette was getting scared,

“W-We don’t want to work in the factory...o-our mother wouldn’t like it” the poor boy stammered.

“We weren’t asking brat!” The man who spoke before growled as he grabbed Amelia and another grabbed Emmette.

Both the children let out screams,

“Let us go, please, please!” Emmette cried as the men got out some rope and tied them up.

“When our daddy finds out he’ll make you pay!” Amelia screamed, trying to put on a brave face for her little brother, which in the end was useless as she began to cry as well.

The Blighters laughed and shoved rags in their mouths to shut them up, they couldn’t have attention drawn to them of course.

Soon the children were thrown in to a carriage and taken across the city...

A few hours later Rebekah patiently waiting for her children to arrive home for lunch,

But as the hour passed she began to worry...

“What’s taking them so long..” she muttered to herself as the heat dissipated from the cake.

Soon it was one’ o’clock, lunchtime passed...the children had never missed lunch before.

Rebekah had a sick feeling fall on her...she had to be sure nothing had happened...

So quickly she threw on her coat, locked up the house and made her way down to the school.

‘Maybe they didn’t finish there work and had to stay in’ she thought in hope.

‘Maybe they met Jacob and he took them to get lunch instead’ Rebekah hoped and prayed she was right, before heading up the steps to the school house.

Carefully she knocked on the door and all noise inside ceased before it was opened by a tall man wearing a black suit and small glasses.

“Mrs Frye I wasn’t expecting you...why the visit?” Mr baileys asked.

“I’ve just come to see Amelia and Emmette, just for a moment and I will be on my way” Rebekah answered with a nervous smile.

“I’m sorry Mrs Frye...I was under the impression the children were sick...they didn’t arrive for morning classes” he answered with some confusion in his tone.

“W-What?”

Rebekah felt weak, she felt absolutely sick and a rush of pure terror filled her.

Where were her babies!?

“Oh god” she cried before quickly dismissing herself and running back home, tears in her eyes and her throat almost closing up.

“Mrs Frye you alright?” A rook asked as they happened to be close by, seeing her upset and stopping her.

“N-No no I’m n-not p-please please y-you have to find j-Jacob!” Rebekah cried as they sat her down on some steps.

“Y-you have to find my h-husband Amelia a-and Emmette a-are missing!” She sobbed as it felt harder to breathe.

Oh where were they!

“It’s ok mrs we’ll find him!” The rook announced before whistling to attract the attention of his comrades.

“Go find the boss, it’s urgent!”

They nodded and quickly sped away!

It wasn’t long till they found him near the Thames beating up a man who had been intentionally selling tainted food.

“Boss you gotta come quick, it’s your Mrs!” One of the rooks yelled to their leader.

“What!?” Jacob answered before dropping the man and sprinting over to the carriage,

“Take me to her quick” he ordered.

Again it wasn’t long until they made their way back to where Rebekah was sitting, sobbing and trying to calm herself.

Seeing his wife utterly distraught Jacob launched himself from the carriage and pulled her in to his arms.

“What happened, are you alright what’s wrong?!” He asked in a urgent and rushed manner.

Jacob made Rebekah look at him, he was worried sick he’d never seen her this distraught.

“A-Amelia and E-Emmette didn’t come h-home for l-lunch!” She cried.

“I-I went to the s-school to s-see if t-they were ok b-but their t-teacher said t-they didn’t c-come to cl-class this morning!”

Jacob felt himself now go pale.... this wasn’t good.

Blighters were still around, but there was a large number of people in London who would hurt children as well.

“It’s going to be ok d-darling w-we’ll find them” he answered shakily as he tried to console her.

“Let’s get you home...I’ll go find them” Jacob added as he helped her up and began to walk her home.

He to was scared for his children, he didn’t have any clues yet but he hid his worry.

Once home he sat her in the lounge room to relax the best she could before hurrying off to find them.

Meanwhile in Whitechapel Amelia and Emmette weren’t fairing well, once they were taken from the alley they were put straight to work.

The air in the factory was hot from the kilns, the dust hurt their eyes and got in their lungs causing them to feel sick and cough.

They were both given shovels and made to scoop coal in to the roaring fire.

“Hurry up or there won’t be any dinner for any of you brats!” The foremen yelled before heading back in to his office.

“I’m scared Meli” Emmette whimpered as he started to cry again,

The other children kept busy at their work, telling him to be quiet would only get them in trouble.

“I-I know Emmy b-but we gotta be brave” Amelia answered quickly before a blighter came up to the boy and smacked him upside the head.

“Shut up and work or I’ll have you both drowned in the cistern!” they threatened, pointing to a large metal barrel filled with water before hitting Amelia to and walking off.

Considering the era...this punishment was light.

Amelia rubbed her head, let out a sob as did Emmette and kept working the best they could.

It took Jacob well in to the night to find any clues of his children’s where-bouts, he searched all of London with his rooks offering a cash reward for anyone who could find them and report to him!

Around five in the morning it came as he was searching by a pub in Southwark, he heard a man drunkenly talking to another.

“I got five bob each for two kids I snatched yesterday at the strand” he laughed before taking a swig of his pint.

Jacob stood around the corner close by to listen.

“I sold ‘em to a buddy of mine in Whitechapel, chained them to a furnace he has” the man laughed as did the other.

“Cried like whimps begging for their mummy, the girl threatened to have her father on to me!” He bellowed.

‘You bloody bastard..’ Jacob growled to himself, not being able to stand it anymore!

Quick as a flash he had the man out of his chair pinned to the floor with a gun to his head.

“Where is the factory!” He roared.

“Who the fuck are you!?”

“I’m that girls father, you better tell me where my children are or that poor barkeep will be scrubbing your brains from the wood!” Jacob yelled as he jammed the gun in to the perpetrator.

The man started to splutter and whimper, the assassin almost swore he smelt urine!

“T-The brick factory I-in Whitechapel, p-please please let me go!”

The master assassin nodded and let him go but not before shooting him in the hand,

“Snatch anymore children again and I’ll fucking take your hands” he growled before running off, the mans screams behind him.

Jacob took a carriage and sped to Whitechapel...hoping they’d both be ok...

Later that morning Amelia and Emmette were woken to the machines roaring to life, they had been chained to the kilns all night by their waists and ankles.

Both children were exhausted!

“Get up you lazy good for nothing’s before you get a beating!” The foreman shouted pulling both of them up and shoving their tools in their hands.

And they tried to work they really did but poor Emmette was falling behind, stopping to rub his eyes and cough.

In the time they had been there their clothes and bodies were covered in soot and grime, turning their freckled skin black from the layers of coal dust.

Noticing this a large blighter picked him up and unchained him roughly,

“Tired eh? Well a dip should wake you!” He laughed before dragging Emmette away.

“Stop! Please don’t hurt him!” Amelia cried trying to hit the man with the heavy shovel, failing and being swatted away with a large slap.

The blighter took him over and held him head first over the cistern before dunking him under the water.

Left him there for longer than needed then let him up, laughing at the child’s spluttering and gasping before putting him back in.

‘THWAK!’ The blighter gasped before slumping to the floor and letting Emmette fall to the ground.

The children in the factory screamed out of fright as a large swarm of rooks ran in and started to kill the overseers.

“Daddy!” Amelia cried as Jacob jumped down from the beam above them and ran to them, there fire in his eyes and a terrible rage in his heart that only went away when he saw his children...

“Amelia sweetheart” he gasped, she was sooty and barely recognisable!

Quickly the assassin hugged her and smashed the chains off her body.

Then he went to his son, his precious boy and helped him up.

Emmette’s face wasn’t as dirty anymore from the dunking but the poor kid was trembling from the experience.

“D-Daddy..”

“Shh Shh it’s alright, let’s go home it’ll be ok” Jacob tried to comfort him as he held him in his arms before heading out to the carriage with his children.

A rook was kind enough to drive as Jacob sat in the back with them, cleaning off their faces and comforting them.

Rebekah hadn’t slept the whole night, crying and trying not to be sick with worry.

She waiting in the living room, pacing and waiting for Jacob to come home. Thinking of every horrible possibility to arise.

She prayed and hoped they would be ok!

The door suddenly opened and in ran Amelia!

“Mummy!” She cried and hugged her, Jacob came in holding Emmette who was still trembling.

Rebekah couldn’t do anything but cry and hold her daughter tight before getting her son off Jacob and holding him to.

It was a beautiful but traumatic reunion for the whole family....

For a while Emmette refused to bathe or swim as the water scared him to much.

Amelia didn’t ever walk alone, she only felt safe when her father or mother was with her, walking her to school and picking her up for lunch and after school as well.

And unfortunately both children would have night terrors for a very long time....

[bazypitchandsimonsnow]

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.”

“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!

[nearlymanaged]

2. Falling Out and Crushing

“Did anyone else notice that Snivellus hasn’t been hanging around Evans all the time lately?” James plopped down into a seat at the Gryffindor table at lunch, halfway through their first week back at Hogwarts.

“They don’t even sit together at Potions anymore,” Peter added. 

“In fact, it appears that they try to sit as far away from each other as physically possible without leaving the classroom.” James’ eyes gleamed with mischievous excitement.

“That’s all very well, but if you haven’t noticed, Evans did not reject you three hundred times because of Snivellus. She’s just not into you,” Sirius shrugged.

“Yes, she is. She just doesn’t realise it yet.”

“Bordering on creepy a bit there, James,” Remus mumbled without tearing his eyes off his copy of The Standard Book of Spells that he had propped against a jug of pumpkin juice.

“I think you meant romantic, Moons.”

“No, I think I meant creepy,” Remus replied happily. “Either way, I’d have to disagree with SIrius this time - this turn of events might, in fact, lend itself to helping you woo her. I happened to overhear her talking to her friends after Care of Magical Creatures. She was telling them she’d first go out with that vile James Potter before making up with Snape. Apparently, they fell out at the end of last year and it sounded like she categorically rejected his only attempt at making amends over the summer.”

James goggled at Remus with a half chewed mouthful of food, then quickly swallowed with some difficulty, and frowned. “Why am I only hearing this now!?” 

“I haven’t seen you since I found out… I’ll send an owl next time.”

“This changes everything…” A strange, dreamy yet still mischievous smile returned to James’ face and he spent the rest of lunch not contributing to the group’s conversation much.

“Moony,” Sirius sat up and turned his whole body towards his friend. “How do you always know about these things?”

“I’m in the right place at the right time a lot. It’s easy when people don’t really notice you.”

“What are you talking about? Who doesn’t notice you?”

“Nothing…” Remus waved him off. He didn’t feel like diving into a tirade about how he feels invisible most of the time, and the rest - people just gape at his scars as though he’s some grotesque old antique collecting dust at Borgin and Burkes. He wasn’t even sure why he started thinking about that now.

“I think I’m going to ask Lydia Rooks out,” Peter said vaguely, gazing at a dark haired Hufflepuff girl across the Great Hall.

“Good for you!” Sirius patted his friend on the back, causing him to spill juice down his front. “Oh, sorry. You can’t really see it, she won’t notice,” he added, inspecting the damage done.

“Wh-- Oh, I’m not doing it now!”

“Why not?”

“There’s people around! What if she says no?” Peter gaped at Sirius and then at the girl again.

“I don’t know...you walk back here?” Sirius offered, sounding confused as to why that was a concern for Peter.

“Have you ever been rejected in front of the entire school and then had to walk back to your seat? Again, in front of the entire school?”

“Hm. Nope, not that I can remember.”

“Yeah, didn’t think so...”

Remus didn’t really hear the rest of that conversation because his thoughts were hurtling down a memory lane filled with all the girls Sirius had ever asked out or been asked out by. For a fleeting moment, he’d wished he could like girls too, instead of boys, not to mention - one of his best friends. But then he had to admit to himself that just that thought alone felt wrong and weird. Almost as wrong and weird as his actual experiences with girls.

“Are you okay, Moony?”

“Huh?” Remus lifted his eyes to Sirius’ face.

“You’re scowling. Is the school year already taking a toll on your pretty face?”

Remus rolled his eyes, now feeling a little annoyed. He thought it was a bit of a low blow, but of course, he knew Sirius didn’t mean anything by it. Either way, what did it matter whether he was pretty or not, there were more important things in life. Or so Remus tried to convince himself...

“What do we have now?” Peter asked just as they were getting up from the Gryffindor table.

“You two,” Remus indicated him and James. “Have some free time to catch up on your homework. While me and - miraculously - SIrius are off to History of Magic.”

“Miraculously? What is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. I suppose I never realised you harboured a secret passion for listening to Binns for forty-five minutes to an hour and a half at a time.”

 * * *

This was the third History of Magic lesson of the term that professor Binns began with the same spiel about the grave importance of their N.E.W.T.’s; Sirius was pretending to listen, holding up his head in his hand, but his mind was completely elsewhere. In fact, his mind kept wandering to the same thing, over and over again, since the morning at King’s Cross station…. 

How come Remus was five or six inches taller than him all of a sudden? And why did Sirius kind of like that? And how come his long, freckled arms were so nice to look at? And why did his voice sound so mesmerising? It’s as if Remus spent the summer drinking some kind of a potion that turned him from one of Sirius’ best friends into a beautiful, enigmatic creature that Black could not ignore, no matter how much he tried. 

As a matter of fact, he didn’t try to ignore Remus at all. Quite the contrary, he was giving in to this new-risen curiosity. He was comparing how he saw James and Peter, his best mates, to the giddy happiness he felt when he was around Remus. And, frankly, it didn’t take a genius to deduct that Sirius had a crush on his friend. Just as he formulated this thought in his head, he glanced around the classroom, as if to make sure that no one was watching him, reading his mind. Then he leaned back in his chair, balancing it on two hind legs, his gaze landing on Remus’ concentrated profile. Yeah, he’d had enough experience with these sort of things to know it - he had a crush on his friend.

SIrius was notorious for developing crushes in seconds, sometimes multiple times a day even. He’d snog a girl one day and then go out with her best friend the next week, and the truth was that he genuinely liked them all. It wasn’t a game, as some of his previous romances had accused him of. But he was having loads of fun and enjoying himself immensely. He’d just never had a crush on a boy, which made it all the more exciting.

“Well, well, well…” He mumbled under his breath, wondering what changed about Moony to make him so attractive out of the blue. Perhaps it wasn’t completely out of the blue; naturally, he’d always felt a certain kind of love and admiration towards his friend...

“Huh?” Remus cast him a distracted glance but then took a double take. “What?”

“What?”

“Why are you staring at me like that?”

“Have you been going out with anyone this summer?” SIrius blurted out without thinking.

“No…”

“Hm. Didn’t think so. You would have mentioned it in your letters. You seem the type.”

“Excuse me, what type?” Remus snorted.

“The swooning type.”

“I am not the swooning type!” Remus whispered loudly, causing a few people to glance around in confusion. “What in Merlin’s beard are you talking about?”

“Have your eyes always been this green?” As soon as the words left Sirius’ mouth, he sobered and landed his chair on all four legs. He flashed a quick grin at Remus, who seemed to still be trying to figure out what was going on, and pointedly turned to look at professor Binns.

He shouldn’t be doing this. This is his friend Remus. Moony. He’s not a random girl from one of the other houses, or a pretty Muggle next door. This is Moony. Sirius can’t be so flippant about it...or else, it would result in a friendship-destroying disaster.

And anyway, not like Moony ever showed any interest in him, or any other boy. This was similar to all the other crushes SIrius had had, but also very different - it was highly unlikely to ever turn into anything. Perhaps Sirius just needed to wait it out, become interested in someone else (as he always eventually did), and move on.

But his thoughts refused to move on from the topic for the rest of the lesson. Remus had never been girl-crazy, as long as they’d known each other. He’d been on a few dates here and there, but he was never the one initiating them. Sirius had always assumed that his friend was just really picky, but maybe that wasn’t it. Maybe the problem resulting in a series of mediocre first dates was the fact that… No, it couldn’t be it. Maybe it was just that Remus was such a poised, controlled person - maybe he simply didn’t care for something as reckless and trivial as teenage emotions and urges. But maybe…

[angel-tries-to-write]

Love Patch

Fandom: Assassin’s Creed Rating: Mature Pairing: Jacob Frye x Reader Word count: 2847 Genre: hurt/comfort, a bit fluff

Jacob needs help, so you help him. Though it’s not the easiest task, obviously. After all, everyone knows that people are out of their minds when someone they love is in pain.

A/N: You know what also was a pain? Titling this s**t!

You were sitting in your favorite pub, surrounded by the Rooks you grew close to recently. This gang was really something meaningful, something that changed London's status quo that made the city prosper at a horrible cost. You turned down a lot of their offers to join them, you knew that street fights and risking your life in actual action wasn't for you. So you were trying to help the other way, by tending their wounds and fixing their clothes, because these were the things you liked. And that was enough, you wouldn't want to be a regular Rook even if it meant you could spend more time with their boss. Truth to be told, you quite liked that man. It wasn't surprising, he was a very handsome gentleman who knew his way to ladies' hearts and not only hearts. Many women had feelings towards him and you didn't feel like a good competitor, so you tried to brush it off. He had something in him, like a typical bad boy. And he would never treat you seriously, so there was no point in showing him interest. That you thought until one night you saw him and you immediately knew something was wrong.

The moment Jacob stepped inside the pub, the Rooks cheered loudly for their boss. He greeted them with his trademark smile and took a seat, falling heavily onto a nearby chair. You could say he was exhausted, but as you kept watching him, you started to notice he was wincing and grabbing his side. One time he was taking his hand away, you spotted crimson shade of blood, pooling on green vest. That was the moment when you stood up so quickly you almost spilled your alcohol and you rushed to the Assassin.

“Undress. Now” you growled angrily, putting your hands on your hips.

“Shouldn't we go somewhere private first?” the man asked and his deep, sexy voice sent warmth to your veins and a shiver to your skin. You knew you wouldn't say no to him of he wanted you. His fellow Rooks snickered. But you tried to pretend it didn't bother you.

“You're wounded, idiot. Pretty seriously as far as I can tell” you pointed to his side. Jacob looked there and blinked a few times.

“I thought it was just a bruise, maybe cracked ribs” he muttered, looking at blood that stained his green vest. He shrugged his coat off, one of the Rooks caught it immediately, then he pulled his clothes up. You saw a short but deep wound that bled heavily. It was clear he was stabbed. You quickly pulled his clothes back down and pressed the wound to prevent further bleeding. The Assassin grunted in pain.

“I'll go fetch a doctor” offered one Rook and they left the pub before you could answer.

“There's no time. He needs stitches now” you decided. “I'm going to need some things.”

“I'm on it” another few Rooks ran outside to find necessary items. You washed your hands and prepared for this little surgery, while the Rooks helped Jacob take his clothes off. That wasn't necessary, but it was easier to wrap the bandages when the patient was shirtless. Besides you deserved some pleasure while doing your job. Well, maybe not that much pleasure you thought to yourself upon seeing him. It was definitely a nice view to look at.

“See something you like?” Jacob teased, noticing the way your eyes gleamed at the sight of his chest.

“Maybe” you lifted your gaze to look at his face and your eyebrows furrowed with worry. His skin was paler than usual. “But I also see many things I don't like. How do you feel?”

“Tired. And wounded” he looked at his hand that was covering the still bleeding injury. The cloth he was pressing to it quickly changed its color to bloody red. That wasn't good. You were afraid that stitches might not be enough.

“Shit” you swore under your breath. “Does anyone have a small Blighters' knife?” you asked, getting an idea. It was dangerous, but could actually help for a while if you did it right.

“I do” one of the brutes pulled out his knife. Its size matched the wound.

“Disinfect it and give it to me” you ordered. After a few moments you held it in your hand.

“What are you going to do?” Frye asked and despite trying so hard, he didn't manage to hide his fear.

“Save your life. Hold him still” you commanded and took his hand away from his side. Then you carefully slid a knife into the wound. Jacob screamed in pain and you flinched, but at least the bleeding stopped being so heavy. “The stitches won't be enough. We have to cauterise it” you decided, looking at the Rooks. Jacob groaned.

“For fuck's sake, (y/n), have some mercy, woman” he wasn't happy. You knew he already suffered a lot, his breath was unsteady and beads of sweat shimmered on his skin. The adrenaline wore off already and he could feel the pain that the wound caused. But there was no other option.

“I can either burn your wound or let you bleed out. You've lost so much blood already, we can't risk you losing more. I need to stop the bleeding right now” you said firmly.

“I'm already heating the knife” said one of the Rooks. Their boss gave you puppy eyes, silently begging you to change your mind, but you were adamant. You knew it was for his own good. You ordered to clear one table for Jacob to lie down on it. The Rooks helped him to move carefully, to spare him pain. Performing medical procedures in a pub wasn't the best idea, but there was no time to move somewhere else. Besides, the Rooks were very helpful.

“I really hope Evie will never know about it” the Assassin smiled, trying to lighten up a little.

“She will kill you if she does. How could you be so reckless and let them stab you that badly?” you asked reproachfully. After all you were worried about him.

“First of all I didn't even know I was stabbed” he admitted sheepishly.

“How is that possible?” you raised your eyebrows. Sure, sometimes people didn't feel they were hurt because of an adrenaline, but this wound was serious, he should have known. Unless he simply ignored it.

“Do I look like I knew?”

“No, you don't look like you knew anything” you deadpanned. Time was passing painfully slowly. Jacob tried to joke with his Rooks how he hoped this incident won't ruin his reputation among them. You were just waiting.

Finally the knife was ready. You took it and told the Rooks to hold the Assassin very still and be extra careful. He could hurt both of you if he moved too rapidly. You took a deep breath to calm down, it was always stressful and you never liked that, causing someone's pain, even if it was necessary. You removed the knife that was stopping the bleeding and you slid the hot knife inside the wound to cauterise it and prevent also inner bleeding. The smell of burnt flesh filled your nostrils and the screams of pain were ringing in your ears. Jacob's body jerked, but the Rooks held him firmly, so he didn't do anything.

If that wasn't enough, the door opened and Evie Frye herself burst into the pub. There was no worse moment than this, when her brother's cries filled the room. She pushed through the Rooks until she reached the table. You removed the knife, the bleeding finally stopped and you sighed relieved.

“Jacob” you called firmly. “Hey” you slapped his cheek lightly, only to keep him awake. “Hold on. We're almost done, the worst part is over” you promised. He opened his eyes and the first what he saw was his sister.

“Evie? Great” the man muttered. “I'm dead” he whispered, closing his eyes. You knew he was conscious, his heavy breathing and face twisted in pain could tell you that.

“Shut up, idiot” she answered and you could swear her voice cracked. She made easier to bandage the wound by carefully lifting Jacob to the sitting position and leaning him against her chest. You two worked in silence, when you looked at her, you saw a deep worry and sadness on her face when she brushed her brother's hair, trying to comfort him. Even though she rarely showed it, she deeply cared about her twin and she loved him more than anything.

The Rooks took Jacob upstairs, to the owner's quarters, to let him rest, Evie followed them. You cleaned the mess and finished your beverage before you followed them either. When the Rooks had left, you told Evie everything that happened. After that, you've sat in silence for a while.

“I always knew he was reckless and stupid, but this is a whole new level of being an idiot” she said, never looking away from her brother. “When I was told he needed help, I thought it was something unimportant, maybe he was just drunk or got into the fight. And when I was near the pub, I heard him scream... it hurt, you know? I felt almost physical pain when I heard it, because I knew it was something very serious” her blue eyes shimmered with tears which didn't need much to fall on the freckled cheeks. Evie quickly wiped them with her sleeve.

“It's all right, you can cry if you want to” you said softly. “He's your brother after all. It's normal you feel sad when someone who you love suffers” you added, biting your lower lip.

“Are you saying that from your own experience?” she asked and you blushed lightly. Did she know? You couldn't tell.

“Yeah” you admitted. “Sort of.”

She didn't push. You didn't say. It was a conversation for another time.

You spent the night watching over Jacob, sleeping only when you were certain Evie wasn't. You didn't want to risk that you could sleep when the man would wake up. But he didn't, until the early morning. The female twin literally kicked you when she saw her brother stirring in his sleep. You quickly awakened, watching as he was waking up slowly.

“Jacob. Jake...” you called softly. You knew no one ever called him that, but you weren't thinking much that moment. “Look at me, baby. Look at me” you caressed his cheek to help him focus on you.

“(Y/n)?” he asked quietly, his low, sleepy voice made your heart skip a beat.

“That's it. How do you feel?”

“Terrible.”

“Here. Drink” Evie offered a glass of water. You two helped Jacob drink it.

“Thanks. I think I’m going to rest today” he decided when he was lying back on the pillow.

“You have no other option. We wouldn't let you get out of bed anyway” his sister said. The man took her hand and squeezed it gently.

“I'm sorry.”

“We'll talk about this later” Evie reciprocated the squeeze. “Now I need to go and you need to sleep. I leave you in the good hands” she smiled and left.

“She was worried about you, you know?” you said, looking at him. Jacob sighed.

“I do. And I'm impressed she took it so well. I don't know what would I do if the roles were reversed” he admitted. You didn't say anything, so he closed his eyes and after a while he was asleep again. Everything was calm and quiet.

You stirred, feeling a warm hand on your head. It was brushing your hair gently and carefully, trying to wake you up. Wait, when did you fall asleep? Your eyes fluttered open and you lifted your head. You were sitting on the floor by the bed, but you couldn't remember why did you decide to do that. You looked at Jacob whose hand stopped stroking your hair and laid on your cheek.

“Jacob? How are you?” you asked sleepily.

“Better than in the morning” he admitted. “The wound still hurts, but at least it doesn't bleed.”

“We'll see if it doesn't” you said, covering your mouth when you yawned and then you stood up, stretching your muscles. “Do you think you can stand up?”

“I hope so, because I need to use a bathroom.”

You giggled and helped him, but only a little. He was indeed in a better state than before, though he definitely needed a couple of days before he would be able to fight and free run. When the bathroom business was done, you undid the bandages to examine the wound and it looked pretty good. No fever, no reopening, no sign of infection. You redid the bandages for extra protection and helped your patient to get back to bed.

“What?” you asked finally after a long moment of silence.

“What "what"?” Jacob asked, trying to pretend he didn't know what you were asking about.

“You've been staring at me for a while. Do you want to say something or...?” you hesitated. He looked at you nervously.

“Actually... yes. Well, first of all thank you for patching me up of course and... I just wanted to ask... what you said in the morning...”

“I didn't say anything-” you tried to protest, but he interrupted you.

“You called me 'baby'.”

“Oh...” you blushed. You hoped maybe he didn't quite catch it. Well, he did.

“I thought... I hoped... that maybe... maybe that meant something” the man looked at you sheepishly. For the first time you noticed how adorable he was. His cheeks had the same pink shade that probably had yours and under that whole brash gang leader facade was a very warm and sensitive heart. If you weren't already in love, you would fall for him this moment.

“I wasn’t thinking what I was saying. I cared only about you to be fine” you admitted. “But... do you want it to mean something?” you asked hesitantly.

“I do” he whispered. You gasped with surprise. He had many women around him, all willing to do anything to have his attention. Yet he chose to show some interest to you.

“I... I never expected that you... that maybe... ah, crap” you sighed, unable to find the right words. You took a deep breath, trying to form a coherent utterance. “I've fell for you some time ago” you blurted out, blushing hard and unable to look him in the eye. “I never said anything, because I was certain you didn't feel the same way. After all, you could have anyone you wanted. A very few women and not straight men would decline. I just thought I have no chance, I'm neither beautiful nor useful. Why would you show any interest in me?” you shrugged, smiling sadly.

“You caught my attention a long time ago. We were liberating children from one of the factories and you casually walked by. When you saw us, you didn't think much, you rushed to help the children. Then you did the same when I made this explosion...” he hesitated. You could see he still felt guilty about it.

“It's okay, the children survived. They wouldn't if you didn't come back though” you reassured him. You knew of course he caused the "accident", you've seen him around the building before it exploded, but you knew everyone makes mistakes.

“But the thought I let it happen because Roth...” Jacob closed his eyes and shook his head, tryingto get rid of his memories. You had heard of Maxwell Roth, how important he was for Jacob. You had been even told that things were pretty serious, someone even dared to say they were in love. Everything was a deep secret of course, but that was how you realized Jacob was attracted to both women and men. “Anyway. I started to ask my Rooks about you and they told me you don't want to join us, but you want to help. And I must admit, your medical skills are something we could use. I kept telling everyone and myself that I want your skills, but one day I realized I just want you. When you casually approached me last night and told me to undress, I was this close to obeying without a word” he chuckled, showing a half-inch space between his fingers.

“That would be interesting to watch” you chuckled too. A moment of silence fell between you before Jacob spoke.

“Would it... would it be too much to ask for a kiss?” he asked sheepishly and you couldn't help but laugh.

“I'm sorry, but I've just confessed I have feelings for you and you ask me if the most obvious thing you should do would be too much?” you looked at him amused. “You can be so cute sometimes.”

“Wha-” he tried to ask, but you leaned down and kissed him. Jacob kissed you back, snaking his arms around you.

None of you noticed Evie who stood by the door with the most "it's about time" impression ever.