#(rook voice) whatever you say gorgeous

[fukiana]

DRAGON AGE: THE VEILGUARD (2024) dev. Bioware "I’m just happy you didn’t get killed out there."

[hallahart]

here's 2000 words of self-indulgent solavellan veilguard reunion fic that is wildly noncanonical, apropos of nothing~

-

The Lighthouse, for all its depressing divorcée energy, is gorgeous—lots of magic lights, frescoes and paintings, high ceilings. Definitely nicer than the mud hovel Rook used to sleep in. But one mural (in what Rook is generously calling the living room—it has more of a tomb-like feel at the moment) is particularly eye-catching, seeing as how it’s about a story high: a woman reaching skyward, rising from the jaws of a snapping wolf with some kind of weird green geometric patterns surrounding her. 

“Who’s she?”

Rook doesn’t know Solas well enough to read him—the man is as impenetrable as Nevarran poetry—but they can hear his teeth grind from across the room. For a thousand year old god (or whatever), he sure is touchy.

“Must you pry into every nook and cranny?”

Rook ignores him, peers closer. “Oh, wait, I see it now. Green glowy hand, pointy ears. You know the Inquisitor?”

“I am surprised that Varric—“ he stops himself, starts over. “Yes. I knew her.”

He’s so obviously annoyed and uncomfortable that Rook has no choice but to wiggle their eyebrows. 

“Knew her, knew her?”

“The Inquisitor is of no concern to you.” Most people would probably backpedal when Fen’Harel looks at them like that, but Rook isn’t most people. They never really had a knack for survival instincts.

“Oh wow, you did, didn’t you?” Rook can’t quite imagine the standoffish man in front of them being romantic with anyone. He’s pretty…severe. They’re pretty sure he’s never smiled in their presence. “You know, I’ve never seen her in person, but those recruitment posters they put up back home—was she really so, you know…” Rook mimes some unlikely curves. 

Solas pinches his nose, and Rook is delighted to see a blush spread across his cheeks. “This conversation is over.”

Rook almost takes mercy on him. But apart from the sad silverware situation, this is the first glimpse of Solas they’ve gotten as a person and not some freaky wolf god with great taste in real estate. 

“So did she break up with you before or after she learned you were an evil trickster god?” They wiggle their fingers in mock menace.

Solas’ eyes flash and Rook knows they’ve gone too far. Whoops. Solas can’t kill them, not without possibly frying his own brain (or spirit, or whatever, Rook’s fuzzy on the details), but they’re sure he can make their life pretty damn unpleasant.

But all he does is sigh, the dark circles under his eyes deepening by the second, and holds up a hand. “Let us please focus on stopping the evanuris. Anything else is a…distraction.”

His voice is hoarse, and Rook immediately feels bad. Clearly this wasn't some meaningless fling (the twenty foot mural should have probably clued them in)—Solas is in it. Present tense. The sad empty rooms start to make a whole lot more sense.

You are the loneliest asshole I’ve ever met, they want to say.

“Yeah,” they say instead. “No problem. Plenty else to discuss. Ancient blighted gods freed from their eternal prisons, etcetera. Say no more.”

Rook can’t be certain, but they’re pretty sure the look on Solas’ face is grateful relief. 

What the hell happened between this guy and the Inquisitor that makes thinking about the gods that want him dead a relief?

___

Rook is lying on the couch pining over Taash and her stupid sexy crystal horn when Varric and Solas enter, already deep in furtive conversation.

The polite thing to do would be to let out a discreet cough to announce their presence. Rook burrows deeper into the pillows and holds their breath.

“Absolutely not, Varric,” Solas hisses. Sometimes he reminds Rook of a sad stray cat they used to feed. Very similar auras.

They come to a stop behind Rook’s couch. “Listen. I get it. Trust me. But if there’s anyone who can help us—“

“No. It is simply out of the question.”

“You’re going to have to face her eventually, you know.”

“There is no reason for the Inquisitor to involve herself. These are my mistakes to fix. Not hers.”

Rook can picture the pitying expression on Varric’s face. “Look around, Chuckles. Your Lighthouse isn’t empty anymore. Like it or not, you have to rely on the rest of us. And Ellana is already involved, even if you don’t want to admit it.”

“The Inquisitor is not—“

Varric scoffs in exasperation. “Took her arm off and can’t even say her name?”

Took her arm off? Whoa. Rook’s heard rumors, but…

There’s a brief pause. Rook can imagine the seething look Solas is giving Varric—it’s been pointed at them often enough. 

“Perhaps I should find a crossbow to name after her. Would that please you?”

Varric lets out a breath that’s half sigh, half chuckle. “Too soon. Way too soon.” 

Rook’s tried to pry into this whole romantic situation, of course, but Varric always deflects, saying something like Don’t even get me started or You’ll just have to pre-order my next book.

Another silence. Then Solas speaks again, his tone softening. “I have caused her enough grief.”

Varric sounds unmoved. “Yeah, by avoiding her for ten years. Has anyone ever told you that you’re impossible?”

“On occasion, yes.”

“Seriously, if you think she’s going to sit this one out now that she knows you’re here—“

Any gentleness is gone. “Excuse me?”

Varric’s nervous laugh makes Rook cringe deeper into the couch. “Yeah, about that… listen, you know it’s impossible for Sparkler to keep secrets from her. It was going to come out eventually, what with the whole ancient evil gods thing. I think she could put two and two together.”

Rook can practically feel the frost radiating from Solas’ voice. “You will tell her you were mistaken.”

“A little late for that,” Varric says sheepishly. “She’s, uh, arriving tomorrow.”

Rook winces at the slammed door that follows in the wake of this new information, and the movement is enough to give away their hiding spot. 

Varric peers down at them, his eyebrows raised. “You heard all that, huh?”

“Yeah,” Rook says, sitting up. “That was, uh…”

“Tell me about it.”Varric sighs, rubs a hand down his face. “Tomorrow is going to be a shitshow.”

___

Inquisitor Lavellan is very short in person. And she looks almost as tired as Solas. And she’s pretty–dark hair and skin, bright green eyes and a wry set to her mouth that looks out of place on the person who was supposed to be Andraste’s prophet. Rook was expecting someone a lot more dour and…Chantry-y. 

She’s also really obviously out of Fen’Harel’s league. No wonder he’s been pining for a decade.

She shakes their hand. “I’ve heard a lot about you from Varric,” she says.

“It’s an honor, your Worsh—uh, your Inquisitorial—“

“Ellana is fine,” she says—kindly, but impersonally, and Rook supposes she’s had this same interaction about ten billion times.

“Ellana, then,” Rook says, and she rewards them with a small smile.

“So you’re the one who interrupted the ritual,” she says. “With some rather interesting side effects, I hear.”

“You mean being magically linked to the grumpiest elf in Thedas? Yeah, interesting is one word for it.”

They’re arrested by the Inquisitor’s hand on their arm. “You could have been cruel to him, and few people would have blamed you. I must thank you for that.”

Her eyes are piercingly kind, and Rook suddenly understands how this woman had entire nations bowing to her will. They have no idea what to say, mouth dry.

“Still, I can’t imagine it’s been easy,” she continues, the wry smile back.

Rook shrugs, hoping their blush isn’t as red as it feels. “In terms of difficult personalities, he ranks a little below my Aunt Beryl, though Aunt Beryl couldn’t turn people to stone with—“

Then they spot Solas over the Inquisitor’s shoulder, hovering in the doorway like a ghost. He’s about as white as one, too.

“Inquisitor,” says Solas, his voice so void of emotion that it gapes like an open wound. 

Rook has a front row seat to the expression that plays across Inquisitor Lavellan’s face. Shock — she grabs the shoulder of her missing arm. Then something Rook can’t quite name—a deep well of some dark thing that makes them shiver, something they hope they never have to feel. 

And then her mouth settles into a grim line, eyes closing for a moment before she turns, back ramrod straight.  

“Solas,” she says, voice steady as she releases her shoulder. Solas’ eyes track the movement with his jaw set.

“You look well.”

It’s like he’s commenting on the weather. 

Rook, frankly, wants to throttle him. The woman you’ve painted onto every other surface of your house is right here, you idiot! Say something better than you look well! They try to communicate this through a series of glares, but Solas seems to have forgotten anyone but the Inquisitor exists. Fair enough.

“You look terrible,” she replies, stepping closer. Her voice is thick. Solas takes a step back.

“I think it best if we—“

“Solas,” she says, stepping forward again, and there is nowhere left for him to retreat. She has the Dread Wolf cornered. Slowly, as though taming a wild animal, she raises her hand to him, coming up to touch his face, the line of his jaw. “You’re really here.”

Rook backs away, knowing this is very much not for their eyes and ears, but—well, they’re nosy, and so they pause in the doorway, shamelessly eavesdropping. Luckily the two elves seem to have forgotten Rook’s even there.

Solas exhales roughly at her touch, ten years of tension rushing out of him in a moment. “Inquisitor—Ellana, I—“

“Hush,” she says, and drops her forehead to his.

Solas’ face crumples. “How can you��I do not deserve—” Rook can barely hear him.

“We have plenty to catch up on,” the Inquisitor murmurs, her voice gentle. “But you are alive, and safe. For now that is enough.”

Like a dam breaking, Solas reaches out, his arms wrapping around her like a drowning man, tight as a sieve. Rook is pretty sure he starts to cry, a sob coming from deep in his chest and shaking his entire frame.

Okay. Enough. Rook’s pretty sure Solas would actually murder them if he remembered they were still there. So they make their exit and ease the door closed without a sound.

They’re happy for him, despite everything. And they really hope they don’t fuck on Rook’s favorite couch.

[himluv]

Oops. My hand slipped. Here's more Lucanis and Spite.

Under the cut, because, well. Spoilers.

In the weeks since escaping the Ossuary, Lucanis had hardly slept. Partly to keep Spite from taking over his body, but also to avoid the dreams. He'd spent enough time in that prison, he didn't need to relive it in his sleep. So, he was awake to hear the dining hall door open and the pad of bare feet across the stone floor.

Rook. Spite said.

It was impossible to tell the hour in the Fade, but Lucanis knew everyone else was bunked down for the night. Even Bellara had eventually quieted down after tinkering with her archive for hours after dinner.

It was late.

Too late for Rook to be scrounging in the kitchen.

With a sigh, Lucanis stood from his cot and went to investigate. Sure enough, when he stepped out into the dining hall, he found Rook standing before the fireplace, a half-eaten piece of jerky in one hand. She stared into the flames, so lost in her thoughts that she hadn't heard his door swing open.

Lucanis watched her for a moment, indulging in the sight without fear of being caught. Mierda, she was gorgeous. The firelight gleamed in her violet-tinged eyes, her auburn hair shining in the flicker of flames. Not for the first time, Lucanis felt the urge to run his fingers through her hair, wondered what it might smell like if he buried his face into it.

Campfire and berries. Smoky sweet.

At that, Lucanis cleared his throat, rousing everyone from their various thoughts.

Rook startled, then gave him an apologetic look. "I'm sorry if I woke you."

He gave her wry look. "I never sleep."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "Never?"

He shrugged and leaned one shoulder against the fireplace. "Not if I can help it."

She frowned at him. "Lucanis—"

"But," he continued, ignoring her disapproval. "You should definitely be sleeping."

She glared at him, a promise that they would talk about his insomnia at some point, then sighed. "I was asleep," she said. She ran a hand through her hair, a movement Lucanis could not look away from.

"Bad dreams?" He asked.

She nodded, her gaze back on the fire. "I keep seeing Minrathous." Her voice was barely more than a whisper, as if admitting it would conjure the memory right there in the dining hall. "And Neve," she added.

"Neve?"

She nodded, opened her mouth, then seemed to think better of whatever she was going to say. "It's nothing," she said. "A stupid, persistent dream."

"Rook—"

"It's fine, Lucanis." She glanced at him, gave him a half-hearted little smile that still managed to make his heart clench. "I'm fine."

In that moment, the distance between them felt wrong. Rook was hurting and everything in Lucanis wanted to comfort her. She was obviously not fine, but then, neither was he. What comfort could he possibly provide?

Broken, Spite whispered.

She must have read his silence as acceptance or, Maker forbid, dismissal, because she shook her head and sighed.

"Good night, Lucanis."

He frowned, knowing he should say something. Do something. He just could not figure out what. This was the longest they'd been alone together since their almost-kiss, and Lucanis was no closer to knowing what to do about his burgeoning feelings than he'd been then.

Coward, said Spite.

"Rook," he called as she reached the door.

The room was darker that far from the fire, and he could just make out the gleam of her elven eyes as she looked back at him.

"You take good care of this team," he said. "Just... Don't forget you're a part of it, too."

She stood there, watching him for a long moment, then nodded. "Thanks, Lucanis."

And then she was gone, back out into the courtyard and hopefully to her quarters to sleep. Lucanis was, again, alone with too many thoughts.

Smooth, Spite said.

Well, too many thoughts and an opinionated demon. That was as alone as Lucanis could get anymore.

He sighed and rubbed his face. "Coffee," he said. Coffee could fix anything.

Not anything. Not you. Broken.

"Perhaps," Lucanis said as he set to preparing a cup. "But, at least I will have coffee."

Spite growled, then mumbled, smells bad anyway.

"You're a terrible liar."

Spite roared and gnashed his teeth, then settled as Lucanis went through the familiar ritual of brewing coffee. Besides the bath, watching coffee brew was the best time to think. And he had plenty he needed to think about.

This demon, for one. Despite being surrounded by talented mages, not one seemed to understand his possession, let alone how to undo it. They told him that non-mage possessions were rare, but possible, so not so strange after all. What was strange was that, according to his new friends, he didn't seem all that possessed.

By all accounts, Lucanis should be dead, his body morphed and twisted to the demon's will. But, here they were, demon and man together in his body, neither of them in complete control.

The other experiments in the Ossuary all succumbed to their demons, becoming the abominations one would expect. But not Lucanis, even after a year of torture and torment.

Zara, Spite hissed.

Fury boiled up in Lucanis as Spite tried to take control. It was a now familiar feeling. A twinge of pain in the crook of his neck, a gathering tension at the base of his skull. If Spite kept pushing, eventually that fury would pound behind Lucanis's eyes, an incessant demand for control.

Now was not the time.

"We will find her," he said, voice soft and sure. He poured the fresh coffee into his preferred cup, a gift from Rook. "And when we do—"

Kill. KILL!

Lucanis sipped and hummed his pleasure, both at the taste and at the thought of sinking his dagger into that Venatori witch's heart.

Yessssssss. Soon!

On this, at least, he and the demon agreed. Zara's painful death could not come soon enough. Rook might be an uncomfortable question mark in his life, but his vengeance against Zara?

That was a guarantee.

With that comforting thought, and Spite temporarily appeased, Lucanis took his cup back to his cot and settled in to imagine all the ways he would hurt Zara Renata before he killed her.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Rook, Leona: Look a Little Closer

BLESS TWST FOR THE PETTINESS, IT NEVER DISAPPOINTS 🙏 xjdvsjdnsksvs The way Leona is just. So done with this situation and wants to get out ASAP, but Rook is babbling and prolonging the conversation and making Leona deeply uncomfortable with it—

Rook has a lot of insightful things to say about art!! When you look at a work again, sometimes you’ll notice things that you didn’t before; I also understand the feeling of being so passionate about a work of art that you fixate on it, analyze it, and excitedly discuss it with others. That’s basically what I do for TWST 😂

P.S. Glad it only took 30 rolls for me to get Rook!! The lighting and the scattering petals in his Groovy are so gorgeous 😭 Oh, and it seems like the Groovy poses are based on what the boys do during various Flying lesson animations! No hands on the broom though… Rook, buddy. I don’t care if you’re trying to T-pose or do the Titanic. Your ass is going to come tumbling out of the sky—

A Boy in Bloom, and his Flowering Future.

“What do you do on your days off?”

“I often enjoy attending the theater or watching movies. Plays, musicals, dramas, films of all genres--I enjoy them all.” Rook’s eyes glinted with keen interest. “Why, quite recently--this last weekend, in fact--I rewatched one of my favorite dramas with Epel-kun!

“I must have already seen it 100 times by now, and yet it never fails to allure me.” He sighed lovingly, his gaze clouding with adoration.

“You are a man with refined tastes, Roi des Lions, so perhaps you’ve heard of this drama? It is a harrowing tale of a monster that seeks to be like man... Alas!! He is shunted at every opportunity. It truly begs of us, Is there humanity to be found in every beast, just as there is a beast to be found in every human?”

Leona’s face twisted into a scowl. “Okay, I’m going to stop you right there. I don’t need such another long-winded answer.”

We’ll never get done with this interview at the rate this is going.

“My, did I overstep my bounds?”

“That’s all you ever do,” Leona snorted.

To this, the birthday boy only chuckled. “Pardon, I wished to be more accommodating of you.”

“More what?”

“I noticed, Leona-kun, that you hesitated earlier when I assured you that it would be no trouble at all were you to request that I elaborate on my hobbies.” Rook’s half-smile was reminiscent of a semicircle of moon: half dark, half light, one hundred percent mystery. “Even the ever so fierce Leona-kun can have his moments of skittishness, left too shy to approach with his inquiries. I thought to consider those feelings and to move along the conversation myself!”

“Tch. I’m damned if I play your game, and I’m damned if I don’t. You just do and say whatever you want anyway.” There was a snideness set in Leona’s voice. “I think I’ve heard just about enough about what you do in your spare time. Staring at people, recreating things in creepily close detail, incessantly watching the same things over and over--”

Expecting different results. For a change of fate, a reward for all that effort.

The very definition of insanity.

“Fufu. There is bliss to be found in such simplicity, Roi des Lions.” Rook tenderly laid a hand upon his heart, extending the other to the sky above. “To observe is to glean new details with each pass of the eyes, to indulge in the senses until one is entirely entranced...!!"

“... You’re really something alright.” Leona placed a hand on his hip, eyes cut with suspicion. “You really think there’s that much fun to watch grass grow or watch paint dry--even if it’s faked?”

“Whether real or staged, it matters not. The emotions being conveyed are always genuine!”

“Now you’re just lying through your teeth. Putting on airs, lying, deception--”

He saw himself in a crown of crumpled cardboard. A harsh wind roared, sending it scattering as fine particles of sand. Another roar ravaged the sky as he desperately clawed to reclaim his crown.

The pathetic sound came from him.

Pretending to be something you’re not.

“--They’re all natural parts of life. How can you say those feelings, too, are ‘true’?”

“Oui. They are as true as the blood in my veins and the breath in my lungs. Art comes in many forms, you see. However, no matter what form it may be beholden to, art retains its novelty, and its power to move our hearts.

“When a work of art most resonates with us, that is when the truth is pulled from the lies, and when we feel the same pains and pleasures as the actors upon the stage--and... the actors that we see for ourselves in the mirror. Look closer, and you will find that there may be something there that wasn’t there before.

“But... I’m certain that you were already aware of that, Roi des Lions.” Rook’s lips stretched into a broad grin, a gleam of sunlight twinkling in his eyes. The kind of eyes that looked right through him. 

Unnerving, Leona thought, a chill causing his fur to stiffen.

“Of course, if you struggle to find that connection, I would be more than happy to recommend a few titles! I believe you would enjoy a number of historical films. We could have a whole movie watching party to ourselves! I would be ecstatic to discuss the intricacies of...”

“No thanks.”

“You needn’t refuse! No need to be shy! Come now, I wish to get to know my beloved classmate better~”

“What part of keep your nose out of other people’s business don’t you get?”

“... D’accord,” Rook agreed, playfully holding both of his hands up. “My business is hereby minded!”

A (relieved, annoyed?) sigh hissed out. “If only you stayed like this all of the time, my life would be so much easier.”

The corners of Rook’s mouth quivered with delight. “Ah, and there it is--your ‘truth’, Leona-kun. Elusive, but as beautiful as the dawn to a new day.”

“Yeah, yeah. You’ve run your mouth plenty enough as is. It’s about time you packed up and cleared out.”

“Oh...!!”

Leona practically chucked a broom at Rook, a flurry of white petals fluttering to the ground as the birthday boy seized it. Sturdy, with a good weight--the broom felt familiar in his hands, like a bird that had migrated home from the winter season. Soft as freshly fallen snow, petals as pale as the pages of an unwritten story.

“Beauté. This is a most wonderful bouquet. I am touched to be the recipient of such a dazzling arrangement!”

“Good for you. If you’re so excited, then best scram,” Leona urged him, “get out of here. Your birthday party’s waitin’ for you to appear and show off your flashy flowers.”

“Fufu, very well. The happiness of all the well wishes I’ve received shall propel me along the birthday road!” With a twirl, Rook easily mounted the broom. The flowers began to glitter, his feet smoothly lifting from the ground.

Leona managed a strained smirk. Finally, he’ll be out of my hair.

Then, a few feet into the air, Rook uttered something that made his stomach drop.

“I shall see you for that movie viewing party tomorrow!!” Rook called, plucking a flower from his broomhead and tossing it to Leona. (It landed on his face and limply fell off onto the sidewalk.) “1:00 pm, in the Savanaclaw lounge!”

“Oi, I don’t recall agreeing to that. And when did you decide those details?!”

But Rook (that bastard) was already too far away, too high up (though Leona knew for a fact that with his superhuman hearing the huntsman could hear him, he was just choosing to not respond). Gritting his teeth, the beastman bolted after Rook, shouting after him.

“Who the hell would show up to that?! I’m being serious, I’m NOT havin’ this…! If you show up, I’ll have the fresh meat toss you out, so you’d BETTER not!! Are you even listening to me?!

“LAY OFFFFFFF….!!”

Up in the air, Rook laughed to himself. “It’s good to see him in such high spirits!”

He peered up from the brim of his hat, lifting his head to the horizon.

The sun was up, touching everything in its path with a golden glow. Honey outlined tufts of cotton candy pink clouds, the sky pale cornflower blue. Pastel colors, soft shapes.

How beautiful.

He flung out his arms, embracing the day. Sunlight spilled over him, illuminating a face as bright as his character.

For as much danger as his precarious position posed, Rook Hunt was the only man capable of dancing with it.

[fanlovedlt]

To anyone who hasn’t gotten beanfest Floyd or just now simps for him when his event version appears, this is for you!

Haven’t write in a while so might sound and look noob.

(Also sorry I didn’t post it sooner! Finally graduated and now trying to get my life sorted out. Enjoy!)

Ever since you gotten the game on your device, you played every rhythm game and fight scene to compete each mission nonstop for a long time.

You loved the songs and the way each character had a role of its own and you even loved how the story surprised you at its storyline than what you expect. It made you feel supreme and unstoppable whenever you play.

That was until the recent event came.

Your favorite character that you took interest during the game was having a SSR card of himself and you wanted him bad, like “I want my pony mommy!” bad! Sure there could be another event where you would have a better chance, but you wanted to see your fav character smile and see him interact with you in the main menu! Wanting to know what kind of speech bubble lines they will say to you!

But it was way too hard for you and that suck very much.

It upsets you that you get the same character every card draw ( sorry rook) and it pisses you off more that you were wasting gems just because you wanted to get this silly eel twin boi not because he were strong as hell or because he was a rare event character: ITS BECAUSE YOU SEEM TO BE SIMPING FOR THAT EEL BOI!!!!!

Here you were sitting on your bed, criss cross apple sauce, while playing a ton of rhythm games and weekly missions to do the 10 draw cards again to see if your luck was giving you a chance this time, until you felt yourself being engulfed by two strong arms around your shoulders behind you.

A groan is heard from your left ear along with a whine next.

“Shrimpy!!~~ Come play with me!!!”

“Sorry Floyd!” You said with a apologetic voice, not even giving him any of your attention while your eyes were preoccupied by your phone screen, “I’m in the middle of completing a mission to earn 5 gems right now. If I get 10 more gems, I could do another draw and pray or cross my fingers that I can get my favorite character this time!”

Floyd didn’t seem to like your comment at all and then laid next to you, pouting the whole time while looking at your face.

“What could be more important than looking at me?~”

“For starters this game I’m doing right now Floyd!” You said with a serious tone this time. “This game has a event that one of my favorite characters are a SSR card and he looks so gorgeous with his smirk! I heard that once you awaken him, he has a more soft loving look and I want someone like him to stare at me like that!!!” You squealed while giggling the entire time.

At this point, Floyd didn’t know if he should break your phone or take it away and just hide it from you forever cause wow rude.

“You do realize I’m here right shrimpy? I can easily look at you like-“ he sighed. “Whatever, if you won’t pay attention to me” he said while sitting up and wrapped his arms yet again but this time around your waist. “I’ll just bother you till you do!~”

“Yeah yeah good luck with that-“ you were doing your 10th um probably 12th draw maybe and hopefully getting your SSR card you worked so hard for.

Rare card. Ok so far so good.

Rare card. Ok seems going off a good start-

SR card of hunter. wait no-no no no no nO NO!

You pushed Floyd’s arms away and pushed your face on a pillow your grabbed and screamed into it till your vocal chords became sore maybe. Cause why?! You were so close and yet the event ends in 3 days!! There way no way you could earn gems let alone buy gems. Sure, you can but you have the type of parent who doesn’t believe in buying on App Store for games or items in games. So you were practically screwed.

“Aww is my little fishy all sad they didn’t get their dream card?~” Floyd teased while you still had your face in your pillow. “Want me to help cheer you up?”

“Nah it’s ok” you replied without the pillow smush in your face which granted Floyd a view of your messed up front hair and depressing look. “I’m probably gonna get over it in like a week or something.” You mumbled to him while laying down, laying your head on your other pillow that doesn’t look like it was untouched.

Floyd isn’t dumb. He knows you are the type of people that get excited over things for a while and sometimes you’ll forget about it in a month or sometimes shorter. He never wonders why and though it was childish, then you commented on how it was childish of him to get mood swings on the wrong times and think of not to be responsible for it actions, like example, the time he was playing basketball and he did so well for the first half…until he left cause he was bored.

He didn’t talk to you for like a week until he came back happy and asking to hang out with him at lunch. It proves your point.

Anyways, he lays down on the bed and turns towards you. Seeing as that you are staring at the ceiling instead of him, he touches your cheek with his left hand and guides your direction towards him with the help of his arm. He wasn’t smiling when you look at him with both eyes but he had a small grin. Well more like a flat line with a small twitch of a curve, but it’s similar.

“Look idk how you love something so fast and then claim you’ll forget about it but all I know is that Shrimpy has me and I’ll be your everyday supporter when you see me!~” He says while shaking his sharp teeth. “And I’ll conversant with my Shrimpy until comes a day when you feel happy again!~” he says and then hugs you again for like the third time. This time you finally respond to it correctly and put your head on his shoulder. “Thank you Floyd.” You replied “It helped a bit.”

“No problem!~” Floyd responded while looking so consistent in your relaxed face and not commenting on where you phone was or how he knew so much about your ability to take interest in things and forgot them immediately.

Maybe he heard it from someone you thought.

Yay I’ve finally finished this! Man I wasted so many gems trying to get Floyd when all I got was another rook! It’s not that I don’t like him but I’ve already had him so why would I need another?! Anywho this is the only favorite Floyd outfit I have of him expect the lab coat one.

This is the only Floyd SR card I have of him and I want a event version of him cause he would probably look beret pretty in it like he does with this one! Anywho hope this was good enough for you guys! Maybe I could make another account on tumblr and use that to make fanfics. What do you guys think?

[storiesforallfandoms]

finishing ~ rook

word count: 1544

request?: yes!

atjafshelby “Hey love, I was wondering if you could do a Rook smut where y’all are like going at it hardcore😂 and Colson walks in and is kinda stunned but Rook doesn’t care because he’s so close and so are you so he just keeps pounding into you? And Colsons like wtffff you kinky bastards😂 if not it’s totally fine, there’s just like no Rook imagines on here, thanks love, and no rush!!❤️❤️”

description: very little could ever bring rook out of the moment during sex, not even his best friend walking in on him and his girl

pairing: rook x female!reader

warnings: swearing, smut

masterlist (one, two)

Rook was dying to just rip your clothes off the entire night. You were all dressed up in a beautiful gown that Colson’s stylist, Ash, had picked out for you, to join the guys on the red carpet for an award show. It wasn’t a revealing dress or anything, but you just looked so beautiful that all Rook wanted to do was sneak away to the nearest private room at the afterparty and fuck you till you couldn’t walk anymore.

Unfortunately for him, every time he tried someone else would try to come talk to one of you. The one time he did manage to pull you away from the crowd, someone had caught you two looking for a closet or something and you had to lie and say you were looking for the bathroom.

As the night began to calm down, Rook saw his opportunity. Most of the people attending were either gone home, or so drunk they weren’t really paying attention to much. Rook took this opportunity to find you and try again for that quickie.

“Hey babe,” he said, grabbing your attention from the person you were talking to. “Is it okay if I steal you away for a second?”

Your conversation mate was already moving on to someone else, so you just shrugged in response. Rook took your hand in his, lacing his fingers through yours and pulling you away from the main room of the party. Knowing exactly what was going to happen, you felt your heart racing with excitement.

It didn’t take long for the two of you to find an empty bathroom. Before even opening the door, Rook attached his lips to yours and kissed you deeply. One hand was wrapped around the doorknob while the other was gripping your ass. You gasped against his lips as he gave your ass a squeeze and then a slight smack, which gave him the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth.

The two of you basically fell into the bathroom as Rook opened it. He pushed you against the door and started kissing your neck while trailing his hands up your dress.

“God, I’ve been waiting all night for this,” he breathed.

He began pushing your dress up around your thighs before slipping a finger under the waistline of your panties. You moaned as he began to rub your already soaking core, arching your back to try and give him more access to you.

“You’re already so wet for me baby,” he said. “Fuck, I can’t wait long.”

He spun you around to face the sink and bent you over, your arms bracing on the cool, white tile. You heard him unbuckle his pants and slide them down his legs. With your dress still pushed up, you felt Rook pull your thin panties aside and slip himself into you. You moaned with pleasure as he began to thrusting almost immediately.

You weren’t sure if you should keep quiet or not. The building was almost empty, but you knew Rook’s friends were still wandering around out there. There was a chance one of them could go looking for Rook and walk in on the two of you, but there was also a higher chance that they’d just send Rook a text to let him known they had left.

Rook was much less concerned about the volume. He was already thrusting ruthlessly into you, the sound of your skin loudly colliding and his grunts and groans filling the room. You had tried to hold them in, but it was no use. You were practically a moaning, screaming mess within moments.

When your eyes weren’t rolling back in pleasure, you caught glimpses of Rook in the bathroom window. His bottom lip and pulled between his teeth, and his sole attention was on watching himself slide in and out of you. He was so focused, so lost in the feeling of your warm, wet walls around him. It was so hot that you were nearly cumming just at the sight of it.

Neither of you heard someone coming down the hall, or the sound of someone knocking at the door. It wasn’t until the doorknob turned and you saw the door crack open that you realized someone was in the area - and that Rook hadn’t locked the door.

Colson’s familiar messy blonde head popped into the room. You let out a shocked shriek, trying to pull away from Rook so you could pull your dress down.

Colson quickly covered his eyes. “Fuck! Don’t y’all know how to lock a fucking door?!”

You had expected Rook to stop as well, but to your shock he was still buried deep inside of you. You wanted to pull away, to try and snap him out of his lustful daze to remind him that his best friend had just caught the two of you fucking. But you couldn’t help but moan as he grabbed your throat and pulled you so your chest was against his back.

Luckily, Colson quickly ducked out of the room again when it became evident that you two weren’t going to stop. Shortly after, Rook reached down to start rubbing your clit so quickly that you were having trouble staying stood up. You felt him twitch inside of you and knew he was nearly finished. With one last thrust that left him buried deep inside of you, Rook groaned and you screamed in pleasure as you both hit your climaxes at the same time.

You were basically seeing stars. Your head was nearly spinning from the pleasure. Rook rested his head on your shoulder, softly kissing whatever skin on your neck he could reach as he finally came down from his high. You eventually had to separate as it was becoming hard to stand up.

“Did you not realize Colson walked in on us?” you asked as you pulled yourself up to sit on the counter.

“I realized,” Rook responded. “At the time I was just so in the zone I didn’t want to stop. Now that I’ve finally cleared my head, I’m very embarrassed.”

You giggled. “Me too. I’m almost afraid to go face him.”

“You think he’s told the guys about what he saw?”

You cringed. “God, I hope not. The last thing either of us needs is them teasing us for having a quickie in the bathroom.”

“Maybe if we’re lucky they’ll be gone back to the hotel already.”

You sighed, silently hoping for the best.

Rook helped you down off the counter, making sure your footing was steady before the two of you exited the bathroom. The first good sign was that Colson hadn’t lingered after your embarrassing moment. You had hoped that meant maybe he just decided to leave all together.

The party was basically over with very few stragglers left, which made you feel even more embarrassed. Now you just wished you and Rook could’ve waited long enough to go back to the hotel room to have your intimate moment.

When the two of you exited the building, you found Colson waiting by the door with a joint raised to his lips, taking a few puffs. Rook reached for it, trying to act as normal as possible after what Colson had just witnessed in the bathroom.

“The others gone?” Rook asked as he took a puff from the joint.

“Yeah, I sent them back to the hotel,” Colson responded. “Told them I’d wait for you guys so I could make sure you got back alright, too.”

“Neither one of us are that drunk man,” Rook said. “But thanks for the concern man.”

“Yeah, I wish I hadn’t been concerned now.”

You felt your face heat up with embarrassment at Colson’s words. Rook merely chuckled, trying to play it off.

“Look man, I’m sorry. But have you seen my girl? She’s drop dead gorgeous.” Rook looped his arm around your waist and pulled you close for good measure. You smiled at him as he kissed your cheek.

“I can’t deny (Y/N)’s beauty, in a respectful way of course, but did you guys have to fuck in the fancy ass bathroom of this after party?” Colson question. “And did you have to keep fucking while I was still there? That shit is burned in my corneas forever now, man.”

“I was in the zone dude. Nothing was gonna break that.”

Colson let out a loud laugh, puffs of smoke billowing from his mouth as he did so. “You kinking fucking bastard!”

You hid your face in Rook’s shoulder as someone stood nearby turned to give the three of you a puzzled look. Rook chuckled as well and told Colson he was going to get a cab for the three of you. Before he walked away, he leaned in as if he were going to kiss you again, only to lower his voice to a whisper.

“Round two the moment I have you to myself in the hotel room.”

Your still aching core became wet again at his words. Knowing what the reaction would be, Rook smirked at you as he left you with Colson to go find you three a cab.

The next few minutes are going to be so painfully slow, you thought to yourself.

[alice-angel12x]

Epel x Reader

"Take care of each other in that school alright," Granny said.

"Course granny, I'll keep an eye on Y/n for you," Epel said as the ebony carriage strolled up to the town.

"Y/n, make sure Epel doesn't do som'n stupid," Granny said to Y/n.

"Yes ma'am," They smiled.

"Hey!" Epel shouted.

The two youngsters climbed into the carriage and were whisked away to Night Raven College. As they two laid in their coffins, they talked the entire way there.

"So what dorm are you hopping for Epel?" Y/n asked their childhood friend.

"Savanaclaw, there so cool and tough. I wanna be strong just like them," Epel said with certainty.

"Well with your vigor and drive, I'm sure you could make it,"

"What about you Y/n, are you hopping for Savanaclaw too," Epel chuckled, already knowing the answer.

"No! I would be snapped in half in that dorm. You know I'm not strong like you, as long as it's not Savanaclaw I'm good anywhere," Y/n said.

"Don't worry, even if it wasn't a savanclaw student I'll protect you, like I always have," Epel said as his heart fluttered in his chest.

"You promise?" Y/n asked nervesly.

"Of course," Epel said as he smiled.

------

"P-Pomefiore?!" Epel gasped in horror as the Dark mirror declared his dorm.

"Hey we're in the same dorm," Y/n said trying to cheer up their friend," I'm sure you can still get strong in this dorm."

Pomefiore Dorm - Lounge

Pomefiore Dorm Student A: Hey! Let's greet the first year Pomefiore students before the welcome party this evening.

Pomefiore Student B: Sounds like a plan. Thank you everyone for coming. For future reference, please make sure to stay informed about school events as a student of Pomefiore.

Pomefiore Student A: This... this smell... Are you from somewhere high class? You smell like a beautiful flower.

Pomefiore Student B: Ah! You noticed! As expected of a Pomefiore student, you have sharp senses, being able to identify my perfume.

"This place is too fancy and strange," Epel groaned as he listened to all the comments floating around about him.

"He's so cute,"

"He must be apart of some high-class family, but who's the weirdo next to him?"

Epel looked around to see the person they could be talking about, but the only person next to him was Y/n. Who was currently siding on the ground and drawing in their sketchbook, they were so focused that they didn't even notice the comments about them.

"Why are they sitting on the floor like a peasant?"

"And their hair is so wild, I bet they don't even know what a brush is,"

"I hope they drop out of this dorm soon, their very presence is already staining Pomefiore's image," The other students snickered.

Epel glared at the students, causing them to shut up and whisper more quietly to each other. Y/n finally looked up from their drawing to see Epel glaring at the others and was shaking in his boots.

"Do you want to go outside Epel?" Y/n suggested.

"Yeah, let's go," Epel said as he grabbed Y/n's hand and dragged them out of the dorm with him.

------

" Ahhhh...... Actually... I really, really wanted to enter the wild and brave Savanaclaw dorm!! There's no way I could be chosen for Pomefiore, and stay in a dorm full of people who speak like that!! This is the complete opposite of my ideal school life! .... I have to study more, improve my magic power, and become stronger... Then eventually I'll,"

"Calm down Epel. There are many ways to become strong in this school. I'm sure you find it," Y/n smiled as they held onto his hands.

Epel sighed as he tried to calm himself.

"Oya? To think a cute Papillon is hanging around out there... That hair color... and those eyes...You must be the rumored freshman, Epel," said a voice.

"EEEP!" Y/n gasped as their unique magic activated, making them invisible.

"Papillon..? Rumoured freshman...?" Epel asked in shock as he turned to the stranger.

"Bonjour, Epel. My name is Rook Hunt, 3 years your senior. Feel free to call me la chasseur d'amour," Rook smiled.

"What?" Epel and Y/n said.

" Well, well... even if you aren't an apple, you certainly do have the potential to become red and beautiful. A discolored princess apple, so to speak," Rook said.

"Princess apple!? Disgusting! At least describe me as a bigger, princely apple! Such a commitment can't be handed to a small object like an apple!" Epel shouted as Y/n giggle quietly.

" That's why I called you discolored princess apple! The entrance ceremony is now over, so how about coming back to Pomefiore? It is a beautiful place,"  Rook smiled.

" Eh?... I agree... it is rather pretty...It's full of beautiful people, high-end goods, perfect furniture. Isn't it gorgeous? But... I don't think I belong here. It must have been a mistake for me to be assigned to Pomefiore," Epel sighed.

" Non, non. Don't say such sad things. Deep down, you have the perfect soul for Pomefiore. I should know," Rook said.

" I don't believe in those sorts of things," Epel said.

" Come, let us return to everyone. Your small shoulders shouldn't be embraced by the cold of the night for much longer," Rook said as he dragged Epel back to the dorm.

Y/n still invisible quietly followed the two back to the party. As the party went on Epel noticed that no one cared that there was an empty seat at the dining table. No one cared that "the Strange " was missing. Yet Epel knew that they were present, simply hiding under their invisible vail. Suddenly there was a blinding light as Vil made his grand appearance. Soon he immediately started to pick on Epel, from his speech to posture. Epel began to tear up from the painful hold Vil had on his head. Y/n hesitantly grabbed their glass of sparkling water and silently rose from their chair, and splashed Vil's face.

Everyone gasped as they looked to see who did it, but could see anyone who could have done such a horrible act. Y/n quickly ran down the hall as their magic continued to hide them while silencing any sounds they made as they ran to their room.

"Who did it! Show your self!" Vil shouted in anger.

Rook soon excused everyone as they all went to their rooms, all slightly shaken from Vil's outburst. Epel quickly scampered off and ran to Y/n's and his dorm room they will share. As he sat on the floor, stewing in anger and sorrow as he leaned against Y/n for support. Y/n slowly placed their hand on Epel's as he tightened his hold.

"Are you alright?" Y/n asked.

"I'm fine," Epel said sharply," Vil, didn't have to do all that stuff to me,"

"As long as your not hurt, then that's good," Y/n said.

"I wanted to come to NRC to become stronger, not to be some beauty guru!" Epel growled.

"Well, if that's what you want. Then I'll do whatever I can to support you. Even if that makes me more of an outcast in Pomefiore," Y/n smiled.

"Thanks, Y/n," Epel sighed in relief, "You're the best (boy/girl)friend ever,"

[akirakurusuimagines]

Something to Protect

Posting my piece for a zine that didn't go through, I hope you enjoy this P5xHMC AU with Akira as Howl and Hifumi as Sophie!

“Check,” Hifumi breathed as she placed the rook on the far end of the board, promoting it and leaving the white king no room for escape in the very same fashion as when she mercilessly destroyed Akira in their first battle on the board⁠. 

She unclenched her jaw and relaxed her face, sinking back into the chair she set up in front of the warm hearth Caroline and Justine sustained with a deep sigh, feeling her old bones ache as she released all of the tension she unknowingly held throughout her solo match. She briefly assessed the state of the shogi board Akira had so kindly gifted her before closing her eyes, her chest aching in a way she only heard about in fairytales.

Hifumi stroked the indented lines of the time-worn lance piece she always kept inside her dress pocket as a token from her father⁠. It was the same piece she once caught Akira tossing and catching in his hand a few days after returning home from one of his secretive expeditions, where he asked her with his unbearably charming grin and mischievous gaze if she knew how to play. 

The corner of her mouth twitched upwards at the memory, remembering how frantically she had stumbled over herself in order to retrieve it after returning to Akira’s moving castle with bags of fresh groceries cradled in her aged arms. Hifumi had made a complete fool of herself, and yet, she recalled with fondness the way he laughed at her haggard state, holding the shogi piece higher than she could reach, and without any regard for her current unsightly appearance, cupped her cheek with tenderness she hadn’t expected from a rumored casanova like him. 

“You don’t have to worry, you know, I’m not going to do anything to it,” Akira had explained as he tucked a strand of greyed hair behind her ear⁠—she could almost feel the ghost of his fingers against her skin even now, igniting her nerves and setting her heart aflame. “You’ve done so much for me, so I wanted to thank you somehow. You don’t have anything but this kosha piece, do you?” 

Hifumi remembered staring at him as she slowly shook her head⁠—not used to acts of affection of any sort⁠—until he pulled away, turning around to grab something from one of the many drawers underneath the array of coffee beans. He handed her a gift box which looked rather expensive, and even as she hesitated to take it, he urged her with a gentle crinkle around his eyes and a toothy grin, proud as ever. Her heart stuttered with joy seeing the well-crafted shogi set that he obviously paid good money for. When she had tried to refuse it, telling him to spend his hard-earned gold on something more worthwhile, he gave her a stern look and replied rather curtly. “Seeing your smile as you opened up the box made it worthwhile, and then some. You’re not going to refuse a gift, are you?”

It took some time to convince her, but he eventually suggested a compromise she agreed on: Hifumi would teach Akira how to play shogi whenever he requested it in exchange for the set. He took full advantage of it, stopping her from cooking or cleaning so they could play. She often wondered why he would ask her for a match so frequently, when there were far better things to do, like cleaning up after himself or researching a new spell. 

Still, she couldn’t help but chuckle as she recalled the way his obvious gambling complex peaked as they played, the raw, abrasive competitive nature he held behind his pretty face urging her own fighting spirit forth—to the point where she would sometimes forget he was a complete novice at the game and let old embarrassing habits slip through. 

Hifumi’s chest felt hollow at the memory of Akira’s playful demeanor and kind words, the temporary café setup suddenly much colder with the harsh reminder of his absence. She opened her eyes, a sad sigh leaving her lips before she could stop it. 

“Oh, so you’re finally done being lost in la-la-land?” Caroline’s tone dripped with sarcasm, the bright blue fire threatening to consume the wooden board in an attempt to catch Hifumi’s attention. 

At her side, Justine’s softer flame coaxed her temperamental twin to calm herself. “Patience, Caroline,” she chided, “she’s already tended to our needs tirelessly, give her a moment more to rest. We’re all on edge right now.”

“No, it’s quite alright,” Hifumi reassured, but the smile she offered them didn’t reach her eyes. She glanced to the side, over to where Shinya was playing with Morgana, watching him run around frantically as the tip of his tail changed from one thing to the next, and bit her bottom lip. She needed to say something, before it consumed her whole. 

“Caroline, Justine,” she began, letting the words roll off her tongue, knowing if she stopped now, she’d never be able to get the words haunting her off her chest, “I think…I think I’m in love.” She didn’t need to elaborate, the answers they needed were written all over her face.  

“What?!” Caroline’s emotions couldn’t be tamed⁠ with the sudden announcement, a near-inferno licking the roof of their fireplace as she stared at Hifumi with astonishment. “You? In love with the trickster? What do you even see in him?!”

Justine at least tried to remain calm in the face of Hifumi’s confession. “Caroline, your jealousy is showing,” she teased, the smile on the flame only growing wider as her twin pushed back against her roughly with a loud yell in an effort to shut her up.

“What’re you guys talking about?” Shinya’s annoyed voice rang loudly in Hifumi’s ears, startling her from the bickering. 

“Oh⁠— ah…” Hifumi mumbled nervously, wringing her hands together on her lap, rather embarrassed. “I… was just telling these two how much I missed Akira. He’s been gone for quite some time,” she explained. 

“Liar!” Caroline seethed, giving her a stink eye. “If you’re going to be in love with that no-good trickster, you had better learn to be proud of it!” 

He laughed loudly at Caroline’s outburst, having known about Hifumi’s secret admiration for a while now. Caroline would’ve exploded from mortification after realizing she had been the last to know had it not been for Justine’s soft whispers about something Hifumi couldn’t quite pick up, which simmered her down until she nearly fizzled out on the charred wood she rested on.

Shinya tugged at Hifumi’s sleeve as he calmed down and stared at her sternly, trying to be as serious as possible⁠—he really did care about her, Hifumi thought. “If Master Akira hurts you, I’ll make sure he regrets it. I’ll make his hair fall out.” 

“There’s no need to go that far, Shinya⁠,” Hifumi nervously laughed, remembering the shocking outburst when his fluffy hair had spontaneously turned a bright, almost blinding blonde as the result of a flyaway spell that took forever to return to its normal color. It was a humorous memory, but she wasn’t sure if she could handle Akira’s reaction to suddenly being balder than a newborn babe.

She forced herself off the chair with a soft groan, adjusting her dress and tucking the loose strands of hair behind her ear. She looked outside, watching as the early sunset illuminated the busy streets, people still fleeing with their livelihoods in a hurry as the impending war approached their humble town. She frowned, her anxiety ceaseless, but a gentle tug on her hand from Shinya snapped her out of it. He really was a good kid under his rough exterior. 

“Let’s go outside and pick some flowers in the field nearby,” Shinya said, looking at her tenderly before clearing his throat and hurriedly adding, “I want to find something for a new spell master Akira was teaching me.”   

Hifumi took one last glimpse at the other residents of the strange castle, at the twins and then at Morgana, her position as caretaker making her a little more susceptible to worry. She gave in after a moment of hesitation, figuring some fresh air would do them good. Who knew when it would happen again? “Alright, but we should only be out for a few minutes. It’s going to get dark faster than you think, and we had better be here in case something happens.”

Shinya’s cheeks flushed with warmth as he rushed to take the basket in one hand and Hifumi’s in the other, tugging her towards the door excitedly. He didn’t often get to do this, it seemed. 

“Slow down, Shinya,” Hifumi covered her grin behind her free hand as he guided her hastily towards the array of gorgeous wildflowers flowers⁠ just a few blocks from the castle—a sight that made her heart ache for Akira, remembering the way he beamed when he presented his secret garden to her. It felt like eons ago.

“You hold onto the basket, Hifumi,” Shinya said, once again bringing her out of her melancholic thoughts before rushing off, diving into the sea of tall flowers as he searched for whatever ones he thought would work. 

“Alright, but don’t stray too far!” she called out to him, hoping he heard. Hifumi kneeled down in a soft patch of grass, examining a few of the flowers surrounding her, swaying slightly in the wind and brushing against her skin as if to comfort her. 

She leaned forward and took a large red wildflower between her fingers. The color was a gorgeous crimson, the same color as Akira’s eyes whenever he drew on his magical abilities, intentionally or not. Shinya’s eyes, by contrast, turned a glittering gold. 

Hifumi continued to stroke the colorful petals of the flower, gazing upon it sentimentally as Shinya raced back and forth between the thicket of flowers and her basket, choosing only the best. The moon crested over the horizon and the sun’s radiance slowly dimmed, sky of pink hues slowly giving way for the stars.

It was the abrupt blaring of the air-raid siren that jolted Hifumi upwards onto her legs, adrenaline suddenly bursting through her veins as the constant whining of the sirens above them numbed all other thoughts. “Shinya!” she called, distressed. Hifumi turned, spotting Shinya’s cloak as he looked up at her, eyes wide with fear. She sighed in relief, only to watch as black ooze began to slither behind him. 

Her body moved on its own. Hifumi dropped everything in her arms, crushing the beautiful flowers under her feet as she dove to tackle Shinya out of the way of the shadow who threatened to attack him. They rolled together for a brief moment in the dirt at the force before the shadow advanced on them once again, and without a second thought, Hifumi scooped Shinya up in her arms. 

She couldn’t be sure if it was the adrenaline rush or a blessing from the gods above that she felt lighter and faster than usual as she rushed back towards the moving castle. Even as the harsh stinging of heavy steps begged her for relief, she refused to relent until they were in the safety of Caroline and Justine’s hearth. Hifumi held on tightly to Shinya as he clung to her neck, weaving in and out of alleyways and dodging any further shadows popping up, a near swarm of them licking at her heels. She stumbled, nearly falling, her ears ringing the world around her nearly collapsed, heart racing as she pushed forth, the view of their home just out of reach. 

Hifumi knew she wouldn’t be able to make it to the castle before the shadows caught her and Shinya, spelling out their doom. She pried the boy off of her and shoved him away, slowing her steps as she did so to give him time to process and react to what was happening. “Run! Go back to Caroline and Justine!” Hifumi ordered. Shinya could only nod and scurry away, tears welling up in his eyes as he clung to torn and bruised flowers, disappearing around the corner. Hifumi darted to the right into another alleyway to distract the shadows from following him. Smoke and exhaustion burned her lungs, the hem of her dress was tattered and torn, and yet she pushed onwards, praying for Shinya’s safety with the twins and Akira’s peculiar cat. 

I’ve really done it this time, haven’t I? Hifumi thought as she found herself trapped in a garden of an evacuated home. There was only one way in and shadows already began to flood through it, swarming her from all sides. Hifumi looked up to the sky as defeat began to sink in, watching as vibrant reds and oranges of destruction reflecting off the clouds with no sign of hope, believing that it would be the last sight she would see. She squeezed her eyes shut and clasped her hands together in a prayer. “I’m sorry, Akira⁠—”

Anguished screeching of faded shadows behind her surprised Hifumi. She whipped around to see Akira, nearly completely transformed, crushing shadows under his heeled feet. He silently wrapped one arm around her, pulling her immobilized body close, keeping her safe and warm as he extended his clawed fingers and his large raven wings, fury burning in his crimson gaze. He raised the hands of the dead, dragging the wailing shadows back into the abyss with the force of a master magician.

“Akira,” Hifumi’s voice was hardly above a whisper, nearly drowned out by the sounds of the ongoing sirens, “Akira, you’re here.” She pulled away from him for a moment to look up, this form far larger than his usual lanky self. “You’re really here,” Hifumi’s lips quivered as she threw herself onto him, hugging him tightly and burying her face in his neck, refusing to let go.

“I’m here,” he spoke equally as softly, careful to not harm her with his claws. Akira rested his temple against her head as her body quaked with sobs, melting into her touch just as she did in his. “I’m sorry I’m late. You’re safe now,” he cooed, hoping to soothe her. 

“I was so worried about you,” Hifumi choked on her words, relief pouring out with every word. 

“I know,” Akira stroked her back calmly. “Let’s get you home.” 

Hifumi’s cheeks grew hot as Akira effortlessly carried her in his arms, cradling her like a bride. She didn’t protest, though by the rumble she felt from Akira’s chest, he knew she was embarrassed. Even now, he was cheeky. 

No shadow dared to approach them as Akira walked her back to the castle, setting her down on the steps in front of the door, giving her some extra height. “Go back in and take the castle far away,” Akira instructed, the whizzing of explosives and bangs of destruction pertinent in his mind. “I’ll come find you when I’m finished here.” 

“No!” Hifumi yelled, her outburst startling Akira. She took his face in her hands and looked at him, desperate. “I don’t want to risk losing you, please, it’s too dangerous.”  

Akira nuzzled his face on the warm hand that cupped his cheek, closing his eyes to avoid her hurt expression. “I can’t,” he explained with a heavy heart. “Another wave is coming, and Caroline and Justine are too weak to handle it and the shadows.” 

“Don’t fight them! We can make a tactical retreat⁠—” 

“Sorry, Hifumi,” Akira shook his head, peeling himself off of her and taking a step back, his hand still holding hers. “I’ve had enough of running away. Now, I have something I want to protect,” he squeezed her hand briefly. “It’s you.”

Hifumi bit the inside of her cheek, seeing in his determined eyes just how serious he was. Akira was stubborn, whether it was in shogi or in war, and she knew she wouldn’t be able to change his mind. But she had things to protect too. Her kosha piece, the other residents of the castle, Akira. 

Before he could slip out of her grasp, she tugged him forward and kissed him firmly, allowing tears to roll down her cheeks, conflicted but compliant. She pried open one of his hands as she kissed him, forcing the old lance piece from her dress pocket into his palm before forcing it close and pulling away slowly, knowing once she did he would be gone. “You had better win and come back home safely,” her voice cracked as she spoke, but before she could say another word, Akira kissed her chastely, a soft smile on his face. He understood.

“I intend to.” 

Not a moment more, Akira flew off into the war-ridden night, taking her lance and her heart while leaving behind a feather and a promise.

[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!

[keepcalm-and-beyou]

Machine Gun Kelly(Colson Baker)

Breaking up with Kells PART 2:

PART

~(Kells POV)~

“Hit that, maybe it will brighten up your day” my boy whiz says passing me some good weed smoke. “Oh fuck yeah” I take the blunt having a long puff from it. “Been one of those fucked up months ya know what I’m saying” I tell him. Whiz nods understanding. I don’t even hide the fact I’m pretty fucked up over mine and Y/N’s break up. Shit all I do is smoke weed, do drugs, drink and sleep. It’s about 4pm and I just woke up thanks to Slim barging in my room telling me whiz is here and to come down for a wake n bake. And I’m not one to pass up on weed.

“Yo man you gonna put on real clothes today or it is another rob and boxers kinda day?” Asks Rook looking at me and the way he’s looking pisses me off. Looks like judgmental like as if I ain’t going through some shit. “Yo fuck you dude” I spit out. Standing up going to grab a bottle of whiskey taking a couple swings. “Bro you gotta chill” Slim spoke. “Hey man come sit with us smoke some more” whiz offers. “Nah I’m good” I respond wanting to chug the bottle back and crash out. Fuck being around people that don’t get it or just pitty me. So I chug more whisky feeling the burn in my throat. I walk away going to my room while hugging the booze bottle. “Kells come on man” Slim yells .

I drank a lot more this month without Y/N had been fucking torture on my mind body and fucking soul. This will only keep going on the torture it will keep on forever without her. My dumbass decided to go through one of my phones seeing old pictures of Y/N missing her so much it’s gonna kill me. With every breath I take I miss her. Clicking on a video I took of her.

we were going to the beach. She felt insecure about her bikini choice and I was telling her how beautiful she is and sexy in it as she stood there smiling and laughing.

This here had to make me mad. It triggered bad emotions. Tossing my phone to my bed and throwing the bottle of booze to my wall. Watching as glass hit the floor. Beefier I knew it Slim and Rook were in my room looking shocked asking if I was okay. “You can’t keep doing this shit bro” Slim says shaking his head at the mess. I stand there not knowing what to do, clean the mess or drink more, maybe smoke more. I grab a towel throwing it on the floor to cover the glass and booze. The guys stay still in one stop but following with their heads every moment I make. I took my pre rolled joint from my nightstand sitting on my bed reaching for my lighter. “Ima smoke this and crash” i tell the boys and light my joint. They nod leaving.

“We gotta help him” Slim tells Rook. “Yeah How nothing has worked he won’t even look at another girl” Rook responds. “We need Y/N, HE needs Y/N” Slim says.

~(Y/N POV)~

It’s been a month sense my breakup and yes I still hurt behind closed doors that is. But to the world I’m fine heck I’m Perfectly fine. I was out often doing things with my bestie Bella. We’d go to the beach, pool parties, shopping, and movies. I’ve even managed to snag some minor rolls in films like the ones Bella stars in. We were constantly together basically living with one and another. Bella has been the best I fucking love that girl.

Today we are going to a carnival with a couple of our girlfriends. The carnival is by the beach. There’s restaurants and all the rides and booths will be in a huge lot. Bella being her self loving social media snaps some cute pictures of me and her posting them on Instagram and Snapchat before we drove off.

“Bitch this is gonna be fun af” Bella sticks her tongue out to me. I smile at my gorgeous bestie “Well we are the life of the party���. “Oh maybe we’ll find some hottie with a beach bod body”Bella cheers. “Oh gosh” I roll my eyes. We turned up the music because what’s a drive without dope tunes. Parents by Yungblud played through the car speakers us girls sang along.

“Omg Y/N you should hook up with him” Bella says confusing me “hook up with who?” “Yungblud duh he totally has thing for you I know for a fact” she smiles. My eyes widen at this crazy girl. “ Bitch please he’s friends with my ex?” I laugh. “Duh perfect payback” she smirks. “Oh jeez Bells your evil” I laugh. “You just don’t have the lady balls” she laughs. “Maybe I’m not fully over Kells yet” I respond. “Rebounds are perfect for that” Bella Chimes in. I shake my head at her and her craziness.

Finally at the carnival we all get out the car fixing our hair and clothes. “So ladies where to first?” I ask eyeing my girls. “Well me and Dani definitely wants snacks” Halston our friend speaks for her and our friend Dani. “And we’ll be at the Ferris wheel” Bella grans my hand as we walk on. “Let’s get it girl” Bella smiles while we go onto the ride. “If I look like I’m falling out this thing by all means save me or jump to” I chuckle. She laughs. The ride goes on and we both yell “woohoo” then laugh together. We get off the ride needing a drink so we found a food cart grabbing two waters for us.

“Hey Y/N” someone says from behind me clearing there throat. I turn right around hearing the familiar voice eyes wide. “Can we talk please” Slim asks me. I think for a moment “uh she’s busy” Bella butts in. “I think she can spare a couple minutes” Rook said annoyed with Bella. “Not for you guys” she smirks putting a hand on her hip. “It’s okay bells I got this give us a minute” I tell her. She nods walking not to far from us.

“What do you want” i lightly demand crossing my arms over my chest. “He’s a wreck, a real mess” Slim starts “not my problem sweetie” I remark with sass. “Please Y/N just listen” Rook says and I roll my eyes. “Why should I?” I ask raising my left eyebrow. “Cuz Kells misses you, he loves you, and needs you” Slim says.

“No Ew, he can keep the hoe he was sucking face with” I chuckle. “Y/N I wouldn’t lie to you, you know that right” Slim tries convincing me more. I stand tall arms crossed eyebrow raised as high as it will go. “He didn’t cheat” Slim continues and I only scoff at that. “She kissed him, she was hitting on him he told her off and she kissed him anyways, and you only saw the last part” he adds. “What’s done is done” I say shrugging. “It’s the truth okay he even cut her loose from the track the second he saw her after what happened” Rook decided to speak.

“He’s drinking like an alcoholic, abuses his drugs, sleeps for hours as long as he ain’t busy getting fucked up, and his temper is crazy the fucker like a ticking time bomb. He gonna need some mental help or YOU” Slim goes on. “And he rather have YOU” rook adds. “He wants and needs his beautiful understanding girlfriend” Slim smiles at me. “He’s just a fucking major mess without you, and he doesn’t deserve to be that way” Rook looks down. “Call him text him phone come over something girl” Slim begs. “I gotta go boys have a nice day” i say walking to Bella. “Finally girl” she jumps up. “Come on bitch” I link our arms walking around.

By the time I’m back home my mind is filled with memories of Colson and Every word slim and rook has said. Should I believe it? Should I talk to him? If I did talk to him what way should I do it?.. My head hurts from this shit. I make my self a drink and sit on my couch contemplating life.

*Knock Knock* “Is he here?” I ask starring at Slim, He smiles nodding “Yeah he’s in his room, might be sleeping” he tells me. I nod walking through the door way and making me way upstairs. All sort of nerves ruining through my body and mind, sweaty palms and sick feeling in my stomach.

*Knock Knock* “Fuck Off” I hear Colson grumble. I sigh turning the doorknob slowly opening it “Kells?” I squeak out turning his light on. And there he was beautiful him yet looking awful like a torture lost puppy, why must he be so cute.

He stairs in disbelief like I’m a dream like it’s magical having me here. I take in a shaky breath “Hi” squeak again. He blinks few times and runs his eyes from the sleep in them. “What, why-why are you here?” His voice comes out raspy. “I think I need to hear something” i respond. “Hear what?” He asks confused. And grabs a joint from his nightstand lighting it. “The truth Kells, I need the truth, the cold hard truth or sweet kind truth whatever it may be I need it” I share the words that fastly come to mind.

I take slow steps to him sitting on his bed next to him. He passes me the joint I take it having a couple puffs trying to clam my self. “The truth can set us free or maybe we’ll see” i rhyme some wise words and pass him the joint back.

“I told you the truth Y/N” he lets out sounding hurt. It kills me hearing that hurtness. “Please tell me again what happened right before I walked in that studio” I beg. He turns to me his eyes look misty only making me wanna cry to. But I can’t I won’t not here. “She kissed me.. she was hitting on me I wasn’t down down, I had you” he stops talking getting more emotional for a second And I look down biting my lip. “She kissed me anyways and that’s when you came it” he finishes. I nod.

“Okay. Thank you for the truth, I’m sorry I couldn’t believe you before” I say holding in all emotions not knowing what now?. He told me truth nothing more. I got up “I guess I’ll let you go back to sleep” I speak lowly.

“I love you” he speaks fast. He got up looking like that damn wounded puppy. “I’m sorry that ever happened, I wish I could go in time to change it, I’m sorry you were hurt, I wish I never agreed to work with her, I miss you, I fucking need you” speaking fast again his words sounding desperate.

He takes one big step to me standing close startling me when he grabbed my face eyes locked onto my wide ones. “I’ll do anything for us to be us again, even though it was a misunderstanding I’ll do whatever it takes for you to trust me again.” Eyes of his searching mine. “I. Need. You” he speaks just above a whisper.

Oh gosh no no no this ain’t happening NOW my Brian yells at me for the Tears coming out of my eyes. Colson looks at me even more saddened at my tears, he moves his hands to wipe them away while saying “ I need you” again to me. I let out a small whimper And Colson puts his lips to mine kissing me making the sad sounds come to a stop. I wrap my arms around his neck he hold my waist helping me reach his height. I missed those lips and his everything. “I love you and need you too” i whisper. “You have no idea how much I missed you” he smiles. “When was the last time you showered or cleaned” i laugh looking around his room. He chucked “ive been a mess”.

[momomomma2]

#15 for joseph and rook, fo you don't mind?

“So, I found this waterfall…”

Rook waits for a response patiently. Pets Boomer’s head where it rests on his thigh, draws another small handful from the bag of trail mix Xander had shoved into his backpack before he left Adelaide’s. He knows it might take a while, has never pushed for anything quicker.

Joseph Seed is a busy man. Running a cult takes up a surprising amount of time--as does destroying one.

“Is it beautiful?”

Rook grins, picks up the radio, smooths Boomer’s ears down from where they’d perked up at the radio crackle.

“Absolutely gorgeous. Dumps into a lake, the kinda thing I would’ve moved Heaven and Earth to find as a kid. And there’s a little cave behind it, you can just barely get back without getting soaked. If my cell worked, I’d send you a picture.”

Joseph hums, a pleased note. “Perhaps you will show me sometime.”

Maybe he will. He has before, when he’s found some particularly breathtaking part of Montana he didn’t know about. Taken pictures to show Joseph when they’re curled in the secrecy of the older man’s bed or absconded with him secretly, leading him to it by the wrist like an overeager child.

Every time, after Joseph leaves and Rook’s left with just memories and the ghost of his touch on his skin, he waits for the regret to come. To settle acidic and thick in the back of his throat. For guilt to double him over, wrench him apart from the inside.

It never does and Rook thinks that’s worse, in a lot of ways.

“When will you be coming home again?” Joseph asks--because Joseph always asks.

The only way Rook can continue to do this, can continue to let himself sink deep into the hell he’s created, is if he knows Joseph needs him as much as he needs Joseph. If he knows Joseph needs his touch, his presence, just like he sometimes needs his. Rook doesn’t quite need as much, his friends and found family keeping him busy, but Joseph is constantly wanting his attention, his time.

“I dunno. I’m in John’s region. You gonna be out this way any time soon?”

There’s a pause, like Joseph’s trying to plan it out in his mind, or maybe glancing at his calendar. The thought makes Rook snort, Boomer lifting his head to tip it, a confused expression on his canine face. The idea of Joseph Seed having a day planner is just hilarious to him, for some reason.

We’ll have a sermon Monday morning and then we’ll torture some people into submission afterwards and maybe time for a light lunch before running people out of their homes in the late afternoon.

“I haven’t checked in on my brother in some time,” Joseph finally says, a wry note in his usually even voice. “I suppose it is high time I pay him a visit.”

“He’s gonna lose his shit, you know this.” Rook tells him. “I’ve been running him in circles for a couple days now. You coming down on top of all of that will probably stroke him out.”

“God never gives us a burden heavier than we can carry.”

Rook laughs, holding his wrist against his nose to try and muffle the undignified snorts. Joseph’s humor is bone dry, usually so well hidden most can’t tell when he’s cracking a joke. But it’s funny and the idea of what John’s face will look like when Joseph tells him he’s coming for a sit’n’chat makes him laugh so hard Boomer gets up with a huff and goes to find a more peaceful spot to nap.

“I’m glad I amuse you so.” Joseph says, like he knows Rook’s been losing his shit for the past few minutes. “I’ve missed how you look when you laugh.”

“I laugh like a drunk seal.”

“And there is beauty in the unbridled amusement you take from life.”

That’s Joseph. Always finding a way to turn Rook’s self-deprecation into a compliment. It’s a talent, one Rook hasn’t quite mastered yet. He’s full of compliments when it comes to Rook, praising every single portion of him from his body to his actions and beliefs. It makes sense, in a twisted way. If he’s supposed to the Herald Joseph says he one day will be, the Executioner to Jacob’s Judge and John’s Jury, of course Joseph’s going to want to set him on the pedestal other’s will worship at.

“You’ll show me the waterfall?”

Rook looks out at the water, imagines for a moment that it’s just like him. Crashing down recklessly, wearing away at whatever is in its path out of sheer tenacity. A force of nature untamed, let loose on an Earth that couldn’t hope to contain it but at the whims of greater powers. More and less powerful by the rainfall, by the help or hindrance that comes down from up above.

He lifts the radio to his lips.

“Yeah. Of course I will.”

[thisaintascenereviews]

Album Review by Bradley Christensen Garth. – Human Nature Record Label: Self-released Release Date: March 16 2018

Something I love in music today is how a lot of bands have their own little “universes,” pretty much like the Marvel Cinematic Universe, because each member might have their own project, so you have tons of different bands that intersect. Hell, maybe even members of the original band might join a different, well-established band, especially if their original band broke up. Dudes like Jonny Craig, Kurt Travis, and Tilian Pearson, all of whom were (or in the case of Pearson, are) in Dance Gavin Dance, have tons of bands and projects to get into, whether it’s solo stuff or side projects. Most people come across these other projects after they listen to the original band or whatever, but sometimes I find the solo material first. That’s what happened when I came across a mysterious project called Human Nature by an artist named Garth. That’s it. Garth. I wonder how many times he’s heard someone make a joke about Wayne’s World. I’m too high-brow for that, so I won’t entertain that idea, but I was very intrigued by the cover art, the album art, and just the overall aesthetic of the record. I was also curious about the description, because Garth was talking about being influenced by 70s soul, 80s new wave, and 90s R&B, all of which are things that I really love. Out of those decades, those are probably my styles of music from each one (I mean, I also really love 70s hard-rock / blues-rock, and I do love me some 80s glam metal, traditional heavy metal, and late-80s death metal, as well as 90s death metal, but I do love a lot of 70s soul / funk, 80s new wave, and 90s R&B, so it works), and that made me insanely curious about the project. It didn’t seem very long, too, only around 28 minutes, because there are only eight songs on it. I downloaded it, and while I was listening to it, I noticed that on his Facebook page, he’s the frontman of a band called The Rooks. They’re an indie-soul band, as they call themselves, so I went to listen to a track from their debut EP, 2015’s Wires.

They’re a really creative, interesting, and unique band, and the whole EP is worth listening to. I don’t want to review the whole thing, just because there’s not much to really say with it. I mean, it’s great, but that’s all you need to know – it’s a short, quick, and unique EP that blends indie-rock with soul music. It’s done incredibly well, and it’s one of the biggest surprises I’ve come across in awhile. They have a new album in the works, too, so I can’t wait for that. In the meantime, let’s talk about Garth’s Human Nature, and I wanted to talk about this more so, because there is more to talk about with this record, because it spans a lot of styles, ideas, and genres. If you want my thoughts on it briefly and quickly, it’s fantastic. This is a fantastic album that blends so many retro styles in a way that feels modern, fresh, and interesting. The only downside that I’d argue it has is that it’s a bit scattershot with its overall sound, but that’s not a terrible thing, because it’s really short. It’s only 28 minutes, like I said, so it’s not that long whatsoever. To get into specifics, however, there are a few things that I really love about this record, and we have to talk about Garth himself. He’s got one of the most amazing, beautiful, fantastic, and wonderful voices I’ve heard in a long, long time. His voice is gorgeous, and even if you’re not into the album itself, you have to admit that his voice is flawless. On pretty much every track, he shines beautifully. Listen to these hooks, as well as the melodies, because he knocks it out of the park every time. I’m shocked he’s not bigger, because he’s got a fantastic voice that uses very well. The lyrics on this thing are very well-done, too, as they’re nothing necessarily new or groundbreaking, but in the same vein as Hayley Kiyoko’s debut album, they’re very relatable, so anyone can really apply them to their own lives. The only guest spot this album has is rapper Watsky on the title track, which is a really weird choice, but he’s not horrible. He’s not that great, but he doesn’t actively make the song worse. His feature’s very short, but it’s such an odd pairing, because I’ve always been under the impression he’s a comedic rapper.

The last thing I wanted to talk about is the sound, and that’s where things can be hit or miss for people. Garth, as I’ve mentioned, has a very retro sound to him, but it’s not one specific sound. He doesn’t only have an 80s new wave, 90s R&B, or 70s soul sound, so he’s merely emulating a single genre, but he takes multiple ones from multiple eras. He doesn’t necessarily blend them together, since you can tell which song is what genre. This can bother people if they love those styles, and they think he’s just ripping them off, but like I said earlier, I don’t think so. It doesn’t bother me for one reason – he adds a very modern spin to them. Yeah, he doesn’t do anything dramatic, but his vocals, the lyrics, and the production are all very modern and fresh. The album is a bit scatterbrained, since it doesn’t flow that well, but it’s a short project, so I don’t care too much about that. Regardless, I love this project quite a lot. It’s one of the best of the year. It’s also one of the most surprising projects of the year, too, because I randomly found it on Bandcamp. I was looking for some new R&B records, and that one caught my attention (as well as my eye). I was really curious about it, and I’m glad I checked it out, because it’s fantastic. Even just for Garth’s vocals, that’s the best thing about it, hands down. He’s a wonderful singer, and even a damn good songwriter, too. I love his very retro sound that spans many different eras and styles of music, which makes his music both interesting and diverse. It can be a bit scattershot for some people, and I get why, for sure, but it doesn’t bother me too much. This album’s only 28 minutes, so there’s not a whole lot here. I could do without Watsky’s feature on the title track, but if anything, Watsky’s got a big following, so I can see people listening to this record, because of him. It’s pretty forgettable, despite not being all that bad. The rest of the record is great, and it’s one of the best albums of the year (it says it’s an EP, but I consider it an album, just because it’s around a half hour in length, and I really want to talk about it at the end of the year).