#but those are my thoughts - basically just Curly Grey Area

[cowardlypenis]

Re my tags on my last reblog . i saw another post and my opinion changed Again (readmore for . a big ol rant)

I think mouthwashing in general has managed to craft a Very specific situation and a highly nuanced narrative with many angles to consider/ways to analyse it. but I see a lot of range in the reactions to curly and i guess i just wanted to feel out my thoughts.

Ultimately (and i think the game does this on purpose) we just see very little of everyone pre-crash. This both encourages us to judge the characters based on their worst moments (jimmy for . the crash . and curly for letting jimmy off in that crucial conversation just prior) and gives us a lot of room for speculation which muddies the waters. I do also think most curly interpretations hold water (both sympathetic and not), these are just my personal feelings on him.

I wrote my tags about 10mins ago but i changed my mind . i think curly Is a Capital E Enabler, just not a traditional one. He's certainly not your standard dudebro standing by his rapist buddy without caring about the people he hurt at all - the reason i hesitated to call him an enabler is because i think jimmy's verbal abuse when he feels out of control does make the situation more complicated. You don't call an abuse victim an enabler for allowing the abuse to continue, right? But at the same time, curly also wasn't jimmy's constant victim and he Did have power over him on the ship. I think Curly's kind of an emotional centrist -- he really feels that he cares about everyone, but his instinct is to look after everyone equally even in clear cases of asymmetric harm like with anya. Which is interesting!!

I saw another post talking about how discussing what curly could've realistically done isn't the point, and the game's making a point about toxic masculinity in the workplace/society in general - I don't think this is entirely accurate. While the theme of Evil Corporate Overlords does take a backseat to the story of abuse on the ship and capitalism itself isn't a core theme, Pony Express itself has been crafted to allow for the most abusive working environment and the most potential for one bad actor to ruin everyone else's lives, and I don't think this should be overlooked in favour of deciding which Moral Point the game is making. Jimmy had abusive tendencies towards everyone on the ship including curly, and curly just happened to be the kind of captain willing to tolerate it in order to not rock the boat (or dock everyone's pay. or trigger a violent jimmy rampage which he seemed to have been aware that jimmy was capable of).

I genuinely think curly's biggest mistake and Worst Moment isn't necessarily his inaction itself (two days is a very short time to figure out an action plan given the circumstances and company policies) but still being friendly with jimmy and reaching out for genuine connection with him, Especially the last conversation prior to the crash. While he may have felt that need to keep jimmy relatively happy and calm to avoid a violent outburst, both treating him as a friend and equal and agreeing with the sentiment that it would be better to be remembered as a tragedy than be punished at the end of the voyage fully enabled jimmy to crash the ship. To me it feels like not only does curly see jimmy as an old friend, but to crack down on him at all when curly's put in so much work to build him up (get him this new job and out of his implied bad situation on earth) would almost feel like a betrayal. This is why curly puts up with jimmy's abusive tendencies, at least to me.

I do also agree that there's an element of sexism here - no other crew members truly appreciate anya's vulnerable position as the only woman, and while curly finds himself able to put up with jimmy, there does seem to be a lack of recognition by any other character that jimmy's abuse of anya even has the potential to be worse. It's like no one else even considers the risk of added sexual abuse anya could face - they can all put up with him berating them, so anya should be fine too, right?

This is an absolute mess of a post . but basically what I wanted to say was that I think curly's at an interesting intersection of having power over jimmy to rectify the situation while also being vulnerable to his abuse and manipulation. Ultimately curly fails to take responsibility for jimmy (considering he's His friend. and got him the job) when he had the power to do so. While it's very true that the circumstances make it very difficult to decide what to do and this is a key aspect of the situation and story's point as a whole, the fact that no responsibility was taken in any way is curly's biggest mistake.

[uramilf]

The Record Shop - Chapter One

A/N: Surprise!! It wasn’t bedtime after all

Warnings: SMUT. Oral (f receiving), weed mentioned, alcohol consumption, Matty being a bit too hot to handle also how cutesy is this gif

*Penny’s POV*

“Can I help you with anything darling?”

I opened my eyes wide at the sight of the beautiful boy in front of me. He smiled at me, and I blinked, pulling myself together.

“You can, actually,” I nodded. “I’m just looking for some Jeff Buckley?” He grinned. “You like him too, huh?”

I smiled back. “Yep, do you have Grace?”

“Of course, let me go grab one from the back.”

He left for a moment or two, and I heard him rummaging about through the back of the store. When he returned, he was holding a Grace vinyl. “I swear this is one of my favourite albums of all time.”

“Oh totally, it’s amazing,” I smiled back. He stood there for a moment, looking at me with those deep brown eyes. I looked back, meeting his gaze. We were quiet, but it somehow wasn’t awkward. It almost felt like I was meant to walk into his store.

After a moment or two, he broke his gaze and cleared his throat. “Sorry, do you need anything else darling?”

I shook my head. “No thanks, it was my first day at a new job today so I thought I would come treat myself to a record. I usually go record shopping after something big like that, you know?”

He looked surprised. “New job, huh? Where are you working?”

“Attitude hair salon, just down the street. I’m a hairdresser, just moved up here from London though.”

“Oh hey, my friends girlfriend gets her hair done there,” he replied. “She got it cut there last week and she’s been going on about it ever since.”

I grinned and he made his way behind the counter and scanned my record for me.

“I’m Matty, by the way. Oh sorry, you probably already saw that. Name tag. Duh.” I could tell he was getting slightly nervous, so I smiled at him again.

“I’m Penny.”

“That’s a pretty name, love. You mustn’t know many people here if you’re from London, then.”

“Nope, pretty much nobody, apart from the girls at work. I met them when I came down for an interview.” Matty nodded slowly whilst putting my new record into a plastic bag for me. I handed over some cash and he put it into the register, handing me back my change. Our fingertips brushed slightly and I saw a ghost of a grin on his lips. I could tell I was turning red.

“Will you wait here for just one second, darling?”

I raised an eyebrow. “Um, sure.”

He disappeared into the back of the shop once more and I heard him talking frantically to another man, but I couldn’t make out what they were saying. I definitely heard my name, along with ‘London’ and ‘doesn’t know anyone yet.’ I blushed a bit. I didn’t want him thinking I was pathetic for having no friends in Manchester. However, when he returned, he was accompanied by a man quite a bit taller than him, who had fair curly hair and dark eyes, with the same logo on his t-shirt: the word “fusion”, which was the name of the store, and a little embroidered vinyl record, and his shirt was dark grey instead of black.

“Penny, this is George. He’s my best mate, we’ve been working here together since we left school.”

George stepped forward and shook my hand.

“Hi, George, lovely to meet you.”

He returned the sentiment, smiling confidently. I have to say, it was turning into the strangest interaction I’d ever had in a record shop.

“So basically, George is having a party tonight, and all our friends are gonna be there. I thought since you haven’t really met anyone down here yet that you could come along? Don’t feel pressured to say yes, of course, but it could be nice for you to get to know some people in the area.”

I felt overwhelmed by their kindness and nodded eagerly. “That would be amazing, guys. Thank you so much.”

“No problem, Penny. Why don’t you gimme your number and I can send you my address?” George asked. Matty looked panicked.

“Actually Penny, if you give me your address I could always pick you up and take you. You know, that way you could have a drink without worrying about getting home.”

I laughed to myself. “Thanks Matty, that would be great.” I gave him my number and scribbled down my address quickly, before grabbing George’s number too in case of emergencies. I thanked the boys again, taking my record in the plastic bag and leaving the store.

“I’ll pick you up at nine, Penny!”

—————

I looked in the mirror one last time. I had opted for a tight black dress that reached my mid-thigh, but had a slit that went up my leg and left little to the imagination. My makeup looked good, some dark eyeshadow and a red lip making me look quite bold, a feeling a wasn’t used to. I was wearing black strappy heels that I wasn’t sure I’d be able to walk in after a few drinks, but I supposed I would just have to chance it. My phone buzzed and I checked to see a text from Matty: “I’m outside your building love x”

My heart fluttered at the message, especially the “x” at the end. I shook the feeling off. I had just met this guy, and he was really only inviting me out because I had no friends. Super romantic.

I grabbed my keys and headed out of the flat, getting the lift down to the ground floor. Stepping out the main door of the building, I shivered slightly at the cold air against my bare arms. My eyes fell on Matty, standing against his car.

“Hi darling. You look stunning.” He was in a similar pair of black jeans as he had been in earlier, but he was now wearing a white button-up and a leather jacket. He shrugged the jacket off when he saw me shiver and made his way to me, draping it round my shoulders right away. Holy shit. That was fucking hot. He even opened the car door for me, as if we were on a date. I tried to shake that thought from my mind. Of course we weren’t on a date. We had just met. It was just a party. I didn’t know anything about him - fuck - did he have a girlfriend?

Matty shutting his car door and switching on the radio pulled me out of my train of thought. Arctic Monkeys was playing - Fluorescent Adolescent. The song seemed to fit Matty. He must have been must older than me but he had a kind of boyish air about him, like a teenager constantly in trouble, but in a cheeky way that you couldn’t help but find funny. He turned his head to look at me. “You ok love?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. You look great, Matty.”

He began to pull out of the car park, smiling at me.

“Thanks darling. I meant it when I said you looked stunning. You really do.”

My stomach was churning now. Even my ex boyfriend Alex had never made me feel this way, and I dated him for three years.

“Thank you Matty,” I said quietly. He eyed me again, for longer this time, until he had to look at the road again.

“Really, Penny. I know we’ve just met but if there’s something wrong, you can tell me. If you’re not comfortable hanging out with us this quickly it’s ok.”

I shook my head and giggled.

“No, Matty. It isn’t you. Honestly I’ve never been as glad to meet someone as I was to meet you, I thought it was gonna take me forever to get to know people.”

“So what’s up then, love?”

“I was just thinking about my ex. Our breakup was kinda the reason I moved, to start over. Me and Alex were together for three years, and it ended pretty badly.”

“I’m sorry to hear that lovely, I’ve been there.”

His hand crept onto my knee and gave my leg a reassuring squeeze, before placing his hand back on the wheel. My breath caught in my throat. I don’t think he knew how attractive he was without even trying.

—————

We arrived at George’s house at a quarter last nine, and there seemed to already be quite a few people around. I spotted George almost as soon as I walked through the door, wearing faded blue jeans and a button up similar to Matty’s. He strode over to me, wrapping me in a warm hug. George was someone I couldn’t help but like, even having only met him once very briefly before.

“I’m so glad you could make it, Penny! You look great.”

“Thanks George, great house,” I said, looking around. The house was small but, much like myself, he had made it beautiful. I noticed a photo of him and Matty hanging on the wall above the stairs and smiled to myself. It had clearly been taken years ago, when the boys were teenagers. Matty’s hair was longer and curlier, and George’s was less blonde. They stood at a similar height and had their arms around each other, grinning into the camera. They were both in shorts and Newcastle United shirts, and their arms were stick thin and bare of tattoos. In front of them was a little boy with light brown hair and a grin similar to Matty’s, who was clinging to one of George’s legs.

“That’s a nice picture,” I commented.

George looked up and laughed. “I think that was taken about 7 years ago now. We were only 17. That’s Matty’s little brother Louis in the picture, he was only 5.”

George led me into the living room, where most of the people were. A girl around my height came running over excitedly. She had long, black, straight hair which tumbled down her back and moved beautifully when she moved. I found my weird hairdresser brain thinking about how much I wanted to touch it. She slung an arm around George’s waist, barely coming up to shoulder height on him.

“Oh my god, you must be Penny! George said he met you earlier.”

“Yeah, that’s me!”

“I’m Charli. It’s so nice to meet you, babe. Let’s go get a drink.”

With that she stood on her tiptoes to give George a kiss on the cheek before linking her arm with mine and pulling me towards the kitchen.

In the kitchen, Charli introduced me to Adam and Ross, who were apparently some of Matty and George’s closest friends. Adam worked in a bar down the street from my flat, and I promised to call in next time he had a shift. Ross worked in a place a few streets over that did tattoos and piercings, and told me he had done most of his friends’ tattoos. Adam called his girlfriend Carly over to meet me, and she embraced me warmly much as George had when I arrived. The boys left to go for a smoke and I was left with their wonderful girlfriends.

“So Penny, George said you’ve just started at Attitude. We both get our hair done there,” Charli remarked, whilst pouring me a vodka lemonade (which seemed like a lot more vodka than lemonade, not that I was complaining.)

“Wait, really?” I took a sip of my incredibly strong drink. “I hope I get both of you when you next come in, I always prefer customers I know.”

After a short conversation with the girls about work (and how much I loved their hair), Matty appeared in my peripheral vision and draped an arm around my shoulder. “Sorry girls, do you mind if I steal Penny for a bit? I wouldn’t want such a beautiful girl to leave without me getting to know her.”

Carly raised an eyebrow. “You’re such a flirt, Matty. Give the girl a break, you just met her for god’s sake!” I giggled, unable to resist walking away with Matty, after catching Charli give me a knowing look.

—————

George had a small balcony attached to his bedroom which Matty and I had ended up on, sharing a blunt. We were sat side by side on the cold ground, the night air cooling us down. The weed hadn’t kicked in yet, but we were chatting away with no awkwardness whatsoever.

“So how old are you anyways, Matty?”

“24, you?”

“21.”

“So it’s totally ok for me to do what I’m about to do then.”

I snapped my head up to look at him. He gently cupped my jaw and pressed his lips to mine. I was shocked but kissed him back. Our lips moved together for a few more seconds before he pulled away. “Shit, love, I’m sorry. I should’ve asked before I did that.”

“Hey,” I whispered, lifting his chin so our eyes were aligned. “I wanted you to.”

Matty’s smile could’ve lit up a thousand cities. “I know we only met today, and we know virtually nothing about each other, but I want to know you. I just have to.”

I caught my bottom lip between my teeth, taking the blunt from his hand and inhaling deeply. I put out the blunt in the ashtray next to me and snaked one hand around Matty’s neck, the other resting on his cheek. I pressed my lips to his and exhaled the smoke into his waiting mouth, where he inhaled it and breathed out the excess.

Matty stared at me for a moment, before leaning back on his hands and patting his lap. I swung a leg over his to straddle him, before crashing my lips to his again in a much more desperate kiss. His tongue swiped against my bottom lip and I opened my mouth slightly, allowing his tongue to enter my mouth. He tasted of weed and smoke and mint. My hands crept up to play with his hair, fingertips grazing against his shaved sides which seemed to be growing back a little. I was glad. Mullets were definitely not my thing.

Matty’s hands were venturing up and down my sides and my back, sometimes coming up to tangle themselves in my carefully curled hair or cup my jaw. I pulled away to catch my breath, and Matty used the time to press small kisses onto my neck and jawline. He began to get a little more cocky, sucking a bright red mark into the skin of my neck. I giggled; usually I would be a little annoyed but the weed was beginning to kick in and everything he did felt perfect.

“Hey, Penny?” Matty pulled away from sucking on my collarbone to speak. I took his face in my hands and whispered “what?”

“I just smoked weed and I drank a bit so I probably shouldn’t drive. Do you wanna get a taxi?”

“To where?”

“My flat. If you want.”

I couldn’t have thought of anything better at that moment, so I rose from his lap and pulled him along with me. I went to slide open the balcony doors, but Matty pulled me in for one last kiss, even dipping me back slightly in his strong arms. How could a stranger be more romantic than my ex-boyfriend of three years? I felt like I was going insane. I couldn’t even believe I had kissed him within only a few hours of knowing him, never mind going home with him. Maybe it was the weed talking, but I trusted Matty.

—————

Matty and I managed to get a taxi fairly quickly. He slid into the back seat beside me and told the driver his address. As soon as we started driving, his lips were attached to my neck again, kissing the skin gently. I turned my head and placed a hand on his cheek, pressing my lips to his. His tongue entered my mouth once more and I could still taste the weed in his mouth, along with some red wine he had downed before we left. I started to feel bad for the taxi driver and broke the kiss, resting my head on his shoulder and reaching for his large, calloused hand. He continued to press soft kisses to the top of my head and stroke my hand with his thumb for the remainder of the short taxi drive. It felt odd to be so intimate with a stranger. I had hardly even felt this close to past boyfriends. What was it about Matty that made me feel so safe?

When we arrived at Matty’s apartment building he paid the taxi driver quickly and basically pulled me out of the car and all the way inside, pressing the lift buttons frantically. I laughed at him, placing my hand on his jaw and pulling him down to look at me. “Chill out Matty, we have time.” I kissed his cheek as the lift doors opened and he pulled me inside, barely waiting until the doors had closed to pull me into another deep kiss. He bent down slightly to wrap his hands around my thighs. “Jump,” he whispered with a grin. I jumped up and he caught me, pushing me against the cold metal wall. I moaned into the kiss as his hands made their way to my ass, squeezing gently. The doors began to open again but Matty didn’t put me down, instead running down the corridor with me in his arms, until I was screaming with laughter and begging him to drop me. He lowered me to my feet when he reached the door to his flat as he fumbled with his keys to open the door.

No sooner were we through the door than he slid his jacket off his shoulders onto the ground and kicked off his shoes, connecting our lips again. “Please, Matty,” I whispered into his mouth, and he ran his hands up and down my back a few times before finding the zip of my dress and pulling it down. As the dress fell to the floor, he devoured me with his eyes. I had gone braless to the party and my nipples were rock hard with the cool air and anticipation of what was to come. My lower half was barely covered by a lacy black thong which seemed to attract Matty’s attention. He was already hardening in his jeans, and I couldn’t wait any longer, so I stepped forward to start unbuttoning his shirt. He yanked it off and threw it behind him, before pulling his jeans off and kicking them away from himself. He stood in a pair of black Calvins, eyeing me up and down and smiling. “How did I get this lucky? It’s not often girls as perfect as you come into the shop, babe, never mind me taking them home on the first night of knowing each other.”

I blushed, before saying “get a move on, Matty. I’m not standing here all night.”

He lunged towards me, tackling me onto the sofa and attacking my nipple with his tongue, making me cry out between bursts of laughter. He sucked a few dark red marks into the skin of my breasts, to match the one he had given me on my neck. He scooped me up, making me giggle, and carried me into his bedroom, throwing me down on the bed before stripping himself of his boxers and pulling off my thong, dropping to his knees when he saw my exposed pussy. He looked up at me for permission. “Can I?”

I nodded. He started by licking the whole way from my hole to my clit, making me cry out in pleasure, before settling on my clit and sucking, licking, grazing it with his teeth. I was dripping now, and one of his hands crept up and was catching some of the wetness on his fingertips. He inserted two finger into me, thrusting them in and out, curling them to hit my g-spot, while he kept licking my clit over and over. I screamed his name and clutched at his dark hair, nearing the edge. Him sucking my clit again and thrusting his fingers into me faster than before had me cumming over his hand and mouth, my arousal dripping down my thighs. He retracted his hand and placed his fingers in his mouth, sucking them clean of my wetness. I lay panting, heart pounding, legs shaking.

“Fuck, baby. You’re incredible,” he whispered, as if I was the one doing the work.

He crawled up to hover above me and kiss me, the taste of my cunt on his tongue.

—————

Matty had tucked me under his duvet with a kiss to my forehead, crawling into bed beside me and pulling me tight to his chest. We had decided not to take things any further that night, realising that despite the feelings that had obviously generated extremely quickly and the connection we seemed to have, we didn’t want to rush into anything. I knew we were both drunk, both high. I didn’t want to wake up the next morning and think I had made a mistake. I rolled over to face him, pressing a kiss to the smooth skin of his cheek, before tucking my head into the crook of his neck, breathing in his scent, and drifting off to sleep; our hearts beating in sync and our breathing matching each others.

—————

A/N: First chapter! Lemme know what you think PLEASE I’m begging give me feedback. Hope y’all enjoyed. Btw in the future when a few more parts are out I would LOVE to take requests for Record Store!Matty blurbs. We’ll see though 🫶

[bloededhoine]

world building cause twn doesn't pt. 2: nilfgaard!

pt. 1 on the northern realms here

okay i'm making this because 1 witcher netflix is the most convoluted and confusing thing i've ever seen and does literally no world building and 2 special interest make autism brain go brr.

about this series

this is gonna be a multi part series about the witcher universe but this is all about nilfgaard!

ciri's timeline in twn encompasses the entirety of the first northern war, beginning with the attack on cintra and ending with the battle at sodden

the show ended in 1264 when we saw geralt meet ciri

this is just covering the human portions of nilfgaard. i'll talk about elven allied groups like the scoiatael later.

colour code cause i fucking love colour codes - already happened/introduced, probably s2, important background info, stuff that might be in the prequel, extras

background

the witcher takes place on the continent, which is mainly divided between south and north

the north is a collection of many kingdoms while the south is basically just nilfgaard and its many territories, dependencies, provences, and vassal states.

some of these conquered areas include toussaint, vicovaro, nazair, and mettina

nilfgaard loves invading the north. a lot. like this is the driving force of most of the plot in the witcher.

basic info

nilfgaard an insanely powerful absolutist monarchy, ruled by an emperor who has a huge collection of talented mages, spies, commanders, and advisors

as of ciri's timeline in twn, the emperor is emhyr var emreis, or, to those on more intimate terms with him: the white flame dancing on the graves of his foes

[ID: middle aged white man with slicked back shoulder length greying black hair. he is wearing a black dress with a red and black embroidered shirt underneath. he is wearing a gold medallion around his neck, has black leather boots, and is holding a silver goblet. end ID]

emhyr is crazy important, both as a character and to the politics of the witcher. he's also a member of the house of emreis, which i'll go into detail on in a bit.

he is also a major walking spoiler, so i won't talk about him in the context of twn or the books

nilfgaard is divided between the "heart" of the empire, also known as lower alba or simply nilfgaard, and the conquered territories, dependencies, provinces, etc

for all of nilfgaard's imperialism, it does allow these areas to retain a lot of their original cultural identity, to the point where someone from vicovaro would not really consider themself nilfgaardian

this works out because nilfgaard would not consider a vicovarian nilfgaardian either

lower alba

lower alba is the home of "real" nilfgaardians, and is also where the capital city is located

theres a bit of racism and racial purity here: lower albans consider themselves superior to the rest of humans due to their elven ancestry

this elven ancestry is also why nilfgaard is far more sympathetic to nonhumans than the north and uses a language similar to hen llinge (elder speech)

there are a LOT of notable albans, so i'll just keep it to the important ones and my favourites: carthia van canten aka cantarella, morvran voorhis, stefan skellen, the house of emreis, and vattier de rideaux

the capital, known as the city of golden towers or simply nilfgaard, is home to the imperial palace, where the emperor spends most of his time

i say most because there is also a summer residence at loc grim palace

now that we know the basics of the core empire, let's visit the other territories!

toussaint

the duchy of toussaint is one of the most important nilfgaardian states, and definitely the most beautiful. it's main economy is in wine

toussaint actually has no secret service or military, something quite rare on the continent. it does however, have a large system of knights errant that love chivalry

the capital is beauclaire, which is where the duke/duchess live

as of twn, its ruler is the duchess anna henrietta. i'll let you all make your own assumptions about the lovely annarietta

also for some reason in toussaint, people have 2 names that are smushed together. so anna henrietta becomes annarietta, sylvia anna becomes syanna, carolina roberta becomes caroberta etc

annarietta is also distantly related to emhyr, her great grandfather is the half brother of emhyr's father

the most notable toussaintois are the mages fringilla and artorius vigo

here's fringilla in twn. [ID: young black woman in a long sleeve grey-blue cloak. her hair is pulled back and she is looking slightly up and to the right with a blank expression. end ID]

vicovaro

"THERE ONCE WAS A MAID FROM VICOVARO..."

okay vicovaro is vassal state near the southernmost part of the empire, but we know it more for the people from it than what it actually is

there is an actual ruler, but the state is largely controlled by two key houses: the var anahid family and the dyffryn family

the capital is vicovaro, but the houses have their own land. we don't really hear about the var anahids, but the dyffyn house controls dyffra

notable vicovarians include assire var anahid and cahir mawr dyffryn aep ceallach. cahir in twn is right there.

[ID: young white man in black armour. he has an angular face and brown slicked back hair. he is scowling]

mettina

okay mettina is a bit confusing since it is the shared name for three different places. the first is the administrative unit mettina, which includes the provence mettina (2) and the provence maecht. in the provence there is also the capital city mettina (3).

tor lara aka the tower of the swallow is in mettina, and not much else tbh

maecht was the home of duny (that little man) for an unspecified number of years

[ID: young white man with dark curly hair. his face is dirty and sweaty and he is frowning slightly]

"wait! i thought duny was the urcheon of erlenwald, and that's in cintra!" don't... don't think too hard about duny. he lived in mettina for a while and took a trip to cintra where he met pavetta.

ebbing

for all intents and purposes, ebbing is an autonomous state, although nilfgaardians do have a hand on the wheel

includes salm, a technically sovereign provence, but is de facto dependent on ebbing

ebbing is most notably home to stygga castle, the one time fortress for the school of the cat, and bounty hunter leo bonhart

also, roegner of ebbing, pavetta's father, is from here

nazair

nazair is kinda the least important of the more important nilfgaardian dependencies

it was independent for a while but was conquered by cintra under queen calanthe and then nilfgaard under emperor emhyr

its main industries are cinnabrite and silver, both luxury goods

the only mildly important nazairi is becca of nazair, ciri's 6 times great grandmother

other minor areas

alba, toussaint, ebbing, and vicovaro are really the only important nilfgaardian areas, although mettina and nazair are mentioned quite a bit. borders change a lot, especially with an imperialist power, but this is the general list of nilfgaardian areas as of the first northern war

regions - daerlan (notable for military), eiddon (owned and ruled by alban spy vattier de rideaux), liddertall, magne, rowan, ruach, slopes (home to haern caduch, the bear school fortress), tarnhann, winneburg, and ymlac

provences - angren provence (contains dol angra, a profitable trade route), cintra (1264-1268), etolia, gemmera, geso, mag turga, mettina (contains kingdoms mettina and maecht), and nazair

vassals - cintra (after 1268), ebbing, toussaint, and vicovaro

tl;dr: the most important part of nilfgaard is lower alba, which is surrounded by many dependencies including toussaint, vicovaro, nazair, and mettina.

thank you for reading! i'm definitely gonna make more parts and will link them here when i do!

[ginger-danica-snapps]

The Wolf Queen and Her Crow Prince

By Ginger D. Snapped

Written for @jonsaseasonalbash day 3 - 24 April: crow and little bird/king and queen/stone and snow.

I was out of town unexpectedly for Day Three, but here is my completion for the Jonsa Seasonal Bash, using the prompt King and Queen. This is written as snapshots of the time when the freefolk began to gather and the end of the long night. This is not betaed, so please be gentle. 

You can also read on my AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/30930386

Summary: Sansa knows she didn’t always live beyond the wall. Mance and his wife were not her parents, but she was freefolk to her bones and it didn’t matter who discovered her. She would save her people from the Night King and never kneel to a Southern King or Queen. 

 Sansa knew there was a time in her life that she didn’t live beyond the wall. She knew the same way that she knew what lemon tasted like and that somewhere there were people who were not always fighting the cold. Where people were fed when hungry and she was loved. The only thing she remembered from that life was her name being Sansa. 

Not that she was not loved by her people. Mance and his wife had been good to her. They had even told her some of the truth of how she came to be with the Freefolk. It was not a pretty story and she knew she had basically been stolen long before she was ready to be taken as a wife. Mance had killed the man that brought her beyond the wall, but worried about what would happen if he took her back across. 

So, she stayed with Mance and Dalla and learned the way of the freefolk. She became a sister to Val and while she did not have the fighting ability of many of the spearwives, she could hold her own well enough to dissuade any more men who came to steal her away. 

Still, she found her way across the great white to peer upon the wall several times in her growing years. She would stare upon the great monstrosity and wonder who beyond it would remember her. Was she missed? Was she loved? 

It made her melancholy in a way that was hard to explain, though Val tried to understand. 

Something else began to settle into the freefolk’s general attitude towards her in the latter year. She’d been one of them for so long that when she was happened upon by a shadowcat and thought herself dead that she was grateful to have lived free. It was not her day to die, however, as a gigantic beast flew from the rocks above them. 

She had scrambled backwards on her hands and bottom, boots scuffling against the ice and snow. Val, Mance, and Ygritte reaching her just as she stood and she leaned gratefully into Val’s own warmth. The cat was now had by the neck with what Sansa realized was a gigantic grey and white direwolf. 

They had seen only trackings of the great beasts before and often avoided the area they were found. 

When the cat was obviously dead, Sansa pushed Ygritte to the side when the girl went to draw back her bow string. 

“NO!” she cried out before she had formed a thought for what she was going to do. Then she was pulling away from Val and rushing forward to the wolf. 

She hit her knees as she reached forward, kneeling before the wolf, and realized for a moment she felt a savage joy at destroying the shadowcat and tasted blood in her own mouth, though there was none. The beast leant to her and rubbed it’s humongous face against hers. She let a giggle escape her before she was flinging her arms around the wolf. 

“Nothing to be said for it now. The rumours about the Stark girl going missing were true,” Val murmured and Sansa looked up to Mance. He looked as if he had aged twenty years in the span of moments. As if he had already not been struggling over their people going missing by the tribes, clans, and societies. 

Sansa was not stupid. 

If a Stark child had gone missing some years before and now she had a direwolf in front of her who seemed to want to keep her, then by all rational thinking she was this Stark girl. 

Amazingly, for the first time in many years, Sansa saw a flash of something in her memory. A grey and white flag with a direwolf upon it. 

She wrinkled her nose as she realized what this meant. 

She had always known she was born to someone below the wall, but she was not just the child of a kneeler. She was a child of someone that the people kneeled to. 

“Child,” Mance’s voice reached her and she looked up with a tilted head. She huffed as she realized he was worried about her reaction. 

That was stupid and she told him so. If he, a deserter of the crows, toted her back to the wall they would have thanked him, taken her, and then promptly hung him for desertion. Then it was likely they would have drummed up the support of these Lords and Ladies she was apparently blood kin too and brought an army into their home to kill indiscriminately. 

“It is fine, stop being stupid. I understand that it was even more important to not return me if I was...am...this Stark girl,” she finally murmured. 

They made their way back to the camp Sansa kept her hand on the nape of the direwolf. 

“Whaddya gonna name her?” Ygritte asked eventually and Sansa looked over in surprise. She truly had not thought about it. 

She looked at the wolf and then thought about how she hit her knees in front of her. She grinned savagely and laughed. 

“Well, I kneeled before her, so I guess she must be a Lady,” Sansa answered and Mance barked out a laugh. 

“Lady it is,” he chuckled and they made their way back to their tents, the freefolk around them all giving them wide eyes. 

-------------

It was three moons later when the world went to shit.

Their people, those that called Mance King and those that did not, were being slaughtered by these dead creatures. Sansa had seen three of her milk siblings rise and attack the same as that which had killed them. 

She’d cut the head off of one herself with Val thrusting a lit torch against the creature and setting it aflame. They’d barely managed to hold Dalla between them before Lady had returned from wherever she had been hunting. They all clamoured on top of the direwolf, gripping hands into the fur, and Sansa murmured an order for Lady to run. 

They’d met with Vance and many of the others who had been hunting and Sansa had to shut her eyes at the cries of those who realized that they had lost all their elderly and the children too young to join the hunt. 

“No one is left?” Mance asked quietly as Sansa helped Dalla down. 

“No, it was slaughter. We need to be moving,” Sansa whispered back harshly, pushing aside all feelings for the time being. 

Mance nodded, “Aye, we make for Frostfangs.”

“This will be happening everywhere, Mance,” Val added as they began to lead their people away.

Mance grunted, “Maybe now they will listen.”

Sansa was sitting before the fire, Lady beside her, working her needle through the last of the seal skin that had come at the same time as the whale blubber that Val was stirring to render over the low flame. There was not much brought by the last traveler and Sansa knew this would be the last they would receive here. 

It would not be long until they’d made their bid to make it over the wall. There had been rumors of ill tidings in the kingdom of the kneelers. A king dead, rebellion, and only little Starks in Winterfell. 

Over the last moon, Mance had taught her all he could of the world below the wall. 

He said just in case, but Sansa could read his wishes between the words unspoken. 

In case all else fails, use her name to the best of her ability, and take care of their people. 

The tent flap few open and they all looked up, Sansa’s hand automatically reaching for the spear she kept beside her at all times now. Lady was up on her feet as well and lips already pulled back in a snarl. 

“Ygritte!” she exclaimed as the girl came in and eyes settled on Mance. Sansa settled back down into her chair when she realized there was no immediate danger. 

“What is it? Why are you back?” Mance gruffly asked. 

Ygritte hesitated only momentarily before stating, “I brought a crow. Says he has forsworn his vows and wishes to join our people.”

Sansa watched as Mance’s eyebrows raised, “Well, bring him in.”

Ygritte hesitated again, “He has a wolf like our girl. Big old white thing with red eyes. Says it's the companion of members of his family.”

Sansa stood again, her spear dropping to a clatter this time as she grabbed at the fabric of her tunic. 

“He’s a Stark?” she said, her voice barely a whisper. 

Ygritte grunted in agreement, “Said something about natural and true, but I couldn’t tell you what his lips were flappin’ about. Seemed to be important to him though.”

“He’s a natural born son of House Stark. The bastard brought back from the war against the Targaryen’s by the Warden of the North,” Mance mused before adding, “Your half brother. I don’t remember his name.”

“Jon,” Sansa murmured as Ygritte answered as well, “Snow, Jon Snow.”

Sansa looked up with wide-eyes. She remembered his name and suddenly a young boy was in front of her young self with dark curly hair and solemn eyes. The same spectral boy she dreamt of on a nightly basis. She had thought him nought but her imagination. 

“You should not climb that, Lady Sansa. Your mother would be quite cross.” 

Then before she could say another word, a man was coming through the tent flap. Sansa’s breath caught as she knew without a doubt that this was the man from her dreams. This was Jon Snow, her brother, and she realized without a doubt that he was her downfall. 

She felt her heart beat faster, her palms growing sweaty, and when his eyes met hers Sansa was lost in the darkness. 

“It...it can’t be,” her crow brother whispered as his eyes darted to Lady and back up, “Sansa?” 

“Hello Jon,” she responded without thinking and then she could think no more as she was swept into strong arms and she was inhaling deep the scent of her kin. 

-----------

Sansa stared at Mance with a gaping mouth. 

“Absolutely not,” she bit out. 

Mance did not look impressed, “Absolutely so. Every leader, chieftain, and speaker has decided. I have stepped back and you are the Queen-Beyond-The-Wall.” 

Sansa shook her head fiercely. 

She’d spent the last three days just getting to know her brother. She’d already decided to steal him for her own as soon as the chance arose. After all, he was only her half-brother, and it was not unheard of among the Freefolk. 

Menfolk were sometimes in low commodity and surviving had been more important than the sharing of a parent. 

Still, Jon was sweet, if a bit naive. 

Ygritte had told her of her advances on Jon on the way to Frostfangs and she didn’t quite believe the man was truthful in his defection. This surprised Sansa not one bit. She had already come to that opinion in the three days she’d spent with him. 

It was only the wildness in his eyes and the obvious wish for the freedom of her people that burned in him brightly that kept Sansa from truly speaking out about his duplicity. Brother or not, she had an entire people to protect from the crows and those below the wall. 

“This is a mistake,” Sansa finally muttered. 

Mance shook his head, “No. This is the only way to get most of us past the wall with little to no bloodshed.” 

Sansa snorted in derision, “Whether the slaughter happens this side of the wall or once we’ve settled in some nice little field and are betrayed, the kneelers will betray us,” then she sat on a stool and lowered her face into her hands. 

“Are we even positive that Jon can help? That he will be listened to?” she asked quietly, at almost a whisper. 

Mance made an encouraging noise and sat down in front of her, “They say his brother became a king before dying and that the entirety of the kingdom is at war. We will take back proof of the dead and show the watch. I am hopeful your presence will encourage less hostility. If they decide to be fuckers all around, then I’ll take the people over the wall the way we planned and take the castle.” 

Sansa sighed and stood again, “Then I suppose I should explain the truth of things to Jon. I get the feeling he expects to return me to the stone houses to wear pretty dresses and sew little pieces of cloth with no purpose all day.” 

Mance chuckled and leaned in and kissed her forehead. She turned and went to join her brother in the tent they’d been keeping him in. 

She could not help but laugh when she entered and found Tormund and Ygritte keeping guard. Jon had apparently said or done something they didn’ t appreciate, because he was trussed up like one of the wild boars they hadn’t seen in years. 

She pulled her knife from her belt and slipped it through the ropes at his wrist. She gave him a leering smile and watched, pleased, as he turned the same color as her hair. 

“Leave us,” she demanded and didn’t bother to look and see if they obeyed. The soft falls of feet and the fabric flapping closed gave her all the answer she needed. 

“Will your crows listen?” she demanded and Jon looked at her confused. 

She huffed in response, “Your crow people and the southerner’s, will they listen when we tell them of the dead and allow us to give proof. The wall holds for now, but that will not be forever. It will fall and when it does then this is all of our problems. If you leave my people to fall behind the wall then the force that rises will be unstoppable.” 

“Sansa, you are a Stark. The last living Stark as far as I know and the Lady of Winterfell,” her crow kin told her and Sansa resisted the urge to roll her eyes. 

“I am the Queen-Beyond-the-Wall, chosen by my people here, and I will not forsake them for stone walls and kneeling sycophants,” she muttered. 

“You're the Queen? I thought Mance…,” Jon began but Sansa held up a hand to stop him. 

This time he glared at her and Sansa resisted the urge to snarl back at him. 

“I am now the Queen. The people decided just this morning and I will be the one to deal with your people. Now, answer my question and none of this manure about you supporting the freefolk. We are not stupid and you might have the heart to be free, but your mind is terribly chained up,” Sansa demanded. 

Then Jon motioned for her to sit. Sansa moved to sit and crossed her legs underneath her and they began to hammer out an accord. 

--------

Four moons later,  Sansa found herself sitting across from a man with a sterner face than any she’d ever seen. 

“You are a Stark and I am your rightful King,” the man said gruffly. 

Sansa sniffed, “I choose to be Freefolk and I am their chosen Queen. I cannot be this Stark you want to put in that stone cage and you cannot be my King. We are not married and your wife is unlikely to take kindly to the idea of you taking another one.” 

The man called Stannis, who she had taken to just calling the Southern King in her head, was now resembling one of the fish with whiskers that she’d been served since coming through the wall. 

“Put my brother in it. He seems to be fond of stone cages,” she added. 

“He’s a bastard,” the wannabe king growled. 

Sansa barked out a laugh, “You think these Northern people will accept a Stark raised as Freefolk over a bastard raised as a Stark? You must be stupider than you look. Make my brother this Lord Stark and offer my people the right to live below the wall if they fight for you and this chair you want so badly without kneeling. They’ll agree to follow the law of these lands while we are here and will allow Jon to be the direct voice to yourself. I speak for my people to Jon and he speaks for me to you. Problem solved.” 

She stated her demands and leaned back in the chair, folding her hands in her lap, and just stared at the man.  

“Your father…,” he began again, but she didn’t even let him make another excuse. 

Sansa stood and turned to walk out. She looked back over her shoulder before she exited. 

“I do not remember my father, nor my mother, nor most of my siblings. Apparently there were two I never even met. Appealing to my sense of familial ties will do nothing but frustrate me. Give me what my people need and we have a deal. Otherwise, there is no reason to send for me again.”

With that Sansa exited the room as calmly as she could. She stopped briefly on the outside and listed as the fire witch spoke to Stannis. 

“I believe she is correct. We now know where the war truly is,” the woman said. 

Stannis made a noise of derision, “Her brother already turned down my pardon of his vows, legitimisation, and being the Warden of the North. I need to place a Stark back in Winterfell or I will never draw enough support to take the throne. We need the kingdom to fight this damn war you are speaking of.”

“Then do as the fire commanded,” the woman responded. 

“Now see here,” the man that Stannis called his Hand, though Sansa did not understand why he needed someone’s else’s when he had two himself that worked just fine, “You can’t just marry a man to his sister, half or prophesied, regardless.” 

Sansa wanted to choke. What had her idiot kin done now? 

Swallowing hard, she marched off to find Jon. 

------------

“I made a vow,” Jon was now glaring at her and Sansa was getting rather tired of people glaring at her and speaking to her of words that were someone more important than doing what was necessary to survive. 

She gave him an unimpressed look, “So, did the majority of the men in this stone cage currently, but they sure seem to enjoy getting their cock wet with my spearwives.” 

“Do you know the whole of what is being asked, Sansa? Or are you going to stand there and lecture me? Marriage, Sansa, he wants us to marry,” Jon growled out and Sansa stood to meet him when he began to move away. 

She pressed her hands into his chest and pushed back with all his strength, “You will listen to me, Jon Snow. You made a vow to protect the realm of men. Staying on this stupid wall, freezing, with a bunch of other stupid men is not going to keep this realm safe. You all already apparently forgot who the actual enemy the wall was built to stop was, nevertheless leaving my people as fodder to build an army the likes of which you’ve never seen. Taking Winterfell and Stannis’s offer, regardless of what it is, will protect the realm of men.”

Jon gaped at her, speechless, and Sansa took it as a sign to do something. She stepped closer, not letting him escape her gaze, and pressed her lips against his. He made a sound that reminded her of a dying man’s last breath, before suddenly kissing her back with a fury. Sansa gasped as he lifted her and sat her upon the table. 

She had just managed to get her fingers under his leathers and was about to yank at laces when he stepped back with a panicked look on his face. Sansa wanted to scream at his ridiculous morals. 

He turned to run from the room, but she stood swiftly and passed him, sweeping her leg under his to send him sprawling down. She slammed the door closed and bolted it. Looking around, Sansa made herself not grumble at the lack of furs or a bed. 

Beds were the thing she could grow used to the most. Although Jon had said the beds here were nothing like in this Winterfell. Sansa could not imagine anything softer. 

She looked down at Jon and reached behind her to undo her laces. 

“Sansa…” he said hoarsely, staring up at her. Sansa ignored the plea in his eyes and let her dress fall from her shoulders. 

The dress had been a juxtaposition of painful and enjoyable of being below the wall instead of behind it. She’d run her fingers over the soft material when it had been gifted to her to wear instead of her leather breeches and fur jerkins. She thought Val would have liked it, for all the girl would have argued. 

She’d have liked the monstrosity they called a bathtub too.

It all made Sansa incredibly uncomfortable at the reminders of what she had been born into and sometimes, in the darkest part of night, she could see the sweet, innocent, stupid thing she would have been. She both was grateful to not be her and mournful of what could have been. 

“Now, if you can truly say you do not want me, then I will redress and walk out of this room. If you cannot honestly admit that, though, then I’m taking you for my husband, you’re taking the offer of this Stannis, and we’re going to let my people behind the wall,” She murmured as she knelt in front of him, her braid falling over her shoulder and brushing against the top of her breast. 

She watched his eyes track the movement and grinned at the heat in his eyes. She knew without a doubt that Ygritte had been correct. Jon was definitely a pure man and Sansa ignored the heat that flooded her core, causing her to grow quickly wet, at the thought that he was going to be her man to have. 

No one else would have him again, unless she was dead and buried. She’d had lovers before, occasionally a spearwife and at times a man from another clan, but never one she wanted to keep. 

Jon was staring at her still, this time with some sort of worshipful awe, when her fingers reached to his breaches and unlaced him. 

“Sansa,” he whispered, this time more like whispered words of love. 

She pulled him free and pulled herself over him to straddle. Lowering herself slowly, Sansa sat on his cock and groaned at the stretch of his girth. She wondered if these Southern boys compared cocks the way the youth of the freefolk did and if Jon realized how blessed the gods had been to him. 

She comforted herself with the knowledge that she was helping him break his vows as it would be a travesty to waste such a cock. She began to move her hips in a languid, smooth motion, rocking against him hard on the downfall to press her button into his groin. She added a longer roll as she grew hotter and hotter. 

Then without warning, Jon decided to be an active participant. He surged up, hand cupping the back of her head, as he moved them over. Sansa was pleased to find he had unclipped his cloak and she was now laid out against it. She moaned in pleasure as he immediately set to fucking into her. 

Then his mouth was against hers and she was shoving her own hips up to meet his furious pace. Sansa chased the feeling that was building inside of her and she refused to allow his control to stop her pleasure. She grabbed one of his hands and pulled it down to her button and pressed against his palm as she felt his cock inside of her as she ground upwards. 

“Sansa,” Jon groaned as she felt herself begin falling. 

“Jon!” she screamed as pleasure ripped through her body and she felt him respond to her own cry with wetness flooding inside of her. 

She prepared for him to collapse on top of her as most men she’d taken her pleasure from were apt to do. She found herself moved and cradled against him as he laid back on the floor. 

“I don’t know if Ygritte explained how this works, but I took you for my husband,” she said succinctly and dared him to argue with her stare. 

He sighed and looked over at her, “Our father and your mother will probably crawl out of their graves to kill me, but aye, I accept you as my wife. The North will not love this, but they will accept it to get a Stark back in Winterfell. Now, I can take my wife’s name instead of legitimation from Stannis. That will make them even more accepting. We have to take Winterfell first, though. Without Winterfell we will not be seen as legitimate. They might balk a southern king releasing me from my vows.”

Sansa sighed against him. The man knew nothing of bed talk. Sitting up she pulled him after her. If he wanted to talk business then they should get to it. 

Cutting her eyes back over to view his backside before she slid her dress over her head, Sansa also thought that the sooner they finished the business then they could get back to the fucking. 

A voice inside her head added, and baby making. 

------------

They meet with Stannis...it’s about as enjoyable as Sansa had imagined. They reach an accord. 

They go beyond the wall and speak to her people about the agreement to help take back the Northern key that was supposed to be her birthright and then the truly southern city where Stannis has his stupid chair. Then Stannis will bring the full force of the kingdom North to handle the enemy beyond the wall. That discussion is even less enjoyable with much yelling and even one clan defecting completely and leaving. 

Sansa says a prayer to the old gods that they find their way to somehow burn in one of the red witch’s fires before they join the army of the dead. Stupid fools. 

Stannis and Jon both choke when she tells them that there are at least 85,000 fighting men and women. The rest are too old to be an asset or too young to understand how to tell the difference between two living enemies. 

They both insist the women don’t fight and Sansa plans to ignore them. If the enemy doesn’t care about killing women, why should they care about fighting them? 

Finally, they send ravens. So many ravens and Sansa is astounded how the birds manage to find the people and return with a warg to guide and control them. Jon is astounded to learn that wargs exist and that he has the ability. He does it regularly with Ghost but had thought it was a dream. Sansa and he both begin to learn together with a freefolk skinchanger. 

Jon and her marry before the red witch in part of their agreement with Stannis and Jon is released from his vows to the watch and officially becomes Jon Stark. Then they wed again before the heart tree beyond the wall and Sansa imagines for a moment that her forgotten parents are watching. 

Mance, Dalla, Val, and Ygritte are there in the flesh though and Mance tells her later, when they are all huddled around a fire, that he is proud of the free woman she is. Dalla and he both ask if something happens to them that she takes care of Val and the baby Dalla has yet to birth. 

She drags him back to the heart tree alone and vows before it that she will save as many as she can, but she will watch for Val and the unborn babe with every breath she has. 

He is the only father she can remember. 

Her people agree, as long as they are allowed to have the truth north back as soon as the final war is over and it not be a part of the southern kingdom. They will not kneel. 

Sansa will not give her crown until the war is over and her people are safe. 

By then it would not be necessary as her people would have no need for one when they are free in their home and not in danger of the dead. 

Jon and she share a bed every night and Sansa is pleased to learn that her husband is a quick study. She also thinks her men are sharing ways to please a woman, because he attacks her center with fingers, lips, tongue, and teeth that is clumsy, but not knowledgeable in the fundamentals. 

If she was the type of woman she was born to be, she’d demure her eyes and shyly thank the wives of the men. She’s not that woman though and she makes sure her own clan of people receive three casts of the shit ale the night watch’s call a drink and leads the toast herself. Ygritte claims the majority of the thanks. 

She will never tire of Jon’s blush. 

Two men and a boy try to kill her husband by tricking him into an ambush, claiming his uncle has survived. 

She calls bullshit and when the idiot tries to go rushing down, she draws her blade and motions for the ten men and women she’d chosen to guard her and her husband follow. She’d thought it ridiculous when Stannis told her that she should have an honor guard of some sort since he was recognizing her as a queen and it was only proper. 

Her own clan had sent ten forward without hesitancy. Ygritte and Tormund among them. 

Ygritte is the one who shoots the boy, her husband’s steward, when Jon cannot do it. He cries into her breast that night and Sansa runs her fingers through his hair and comforts him the best she can. 

Tormund somehow decides that her husband should be brought closer to her people after this and begins to heckle him at every opportunity. Sansa finds them fighting in the yard most mornings now. 

Jon fits her people more than he wishes to admit. Sansa tries not to think of the day they will send them back beyond the wall. 

They begin the march to Winterfell. A winter storm takes them by surprise, but the Freefolk laugh at the southern men in Stannis’s army. Very few Northmen answered their call, but Sansa is not particularly surprised. Jon is only half Stark and she was raised among the Freefolk. Even together they won’t draw the North to them until they sit in Winterfell and the dead is more known. 

The freefolk begin to teach the southerners how to best pad their armor and they stop before dusk every night and her people train them how to move on snow and ice. Stannis, his hand, and witch take dinner every night with Jon, Sansa, and Mance. 

It’s an odd group, but they make it work. 

Melisandre is oddly good at helping keep everyone focused on the real war. She watches Jon in a way that Sansa is not happy about, however. It was on one of the later nights that Melisandre finally addressed whatever it was she had been pondering. Stannis and the others were already abed in their tents and it was only her guard, Jon, and Melisandre left around the fire. 

“Your mother, do you know who your mother was?” the witch asked and Sansa resisted the urge to scratch her eyes out when her husband almost immediately became sullen. It was a particular talent of his. 

“No, My Lady, Lord Stark never deemed it the time. He promised he would the next I saw him, but you know what happened with that,” Jon said quietly. 

Sansa’s eyes narrowed as Melisandre stood and asked for his hand. Jon, the stupid fool, didn’t hesitate and then yelped when Melisandre obviously pierced him in the palm. She was sopping the blood up with a scrap of fabric before he could move back and Sansa stood angrily. 

The witch just held up her hand and walked to the fire with the fabric before anyone could say anything. 

“For the night is dark and full of terrors,” the witch murmured and tossed the cloth in. 

Sansa could not help but find herself intrigued as the fire almost doubled in size and suddenly there were images. Jon and a short, blond woman standing before huge beast’s that could only be dragons. Jon wearing black and red and flying on the dragon. Then nothing. 

She looked to Melisandre, who looked back at both of them before sighing. 

“I fear that I might have misinterpreted the flames in regards to Stannis,” the woman said as if announcing what she wanted for breakfast, “It’s you who is our prince or the girl.” 

“Who was that woman?” Sansa asked. 

Melisandre sat and began to draw in the sand a rudimentary symbol of three creatures wrapped around one another. 

Jon whispered, “House Targaryen. That is their sigil.”

“Yes, Jon, and the only interpretation left to us is that you are a member of said house, or atleast of their blood. That woman was Daenerys Targaryen, the lost Targaryen Princess, who swears to return to Westeros with fire and blood to reclaim what she says is hers.” Melisandre finished. 

Sansa raised an eyebrow, “Well, don’t be telling Stannis that. You’ve told him that he was the promised one or some other rot. Best to let him keep thinking that.” 

“Lyanna Stark is my mother,” Jon whispered and Sansa looked at him in confusion. 

Jon swallowed hard, “Lyanna was your father’s sister. They say Rhaegar Targaryen took her away and our Uncle Brandon and Grandfather went to King’s Landing to demand her back. Aerys...oh gods, he was my grandfather...burned them alive before demanding that Jon Arryn bring him the heads of your father and Robert Baratheon. It’s why they went to war and deposed him...deposed House Targaryen.” 

“Deposed or not, you are Targaryen and Stark, the culmination of the song of ice and fire,” Melisandre said, “Your blood is the blood of kings, the blood of the dragon.” 

“I am not a dragon,” Jon snarled and stood with such a quickness and fury that Sansa found herself preparing for battle, “I am the bastard of a deposed house that holds no right to anything in Westeros unless this Daenerys Targaryen returns to conquer it again. It will not be me.” 

Melisandre hummed under her breath and Sansa watched the witch consider his words with a sense of trepidation. Sansa reached into her skirts to put her fingers on her knife. If the witch made to do something that would expose her husband, then Sansa would slit her throat before she could speak it. 

“Yes,  My Lord Stark. You have married into the house of wolves and therefore, I suppose, you are not a dragon any longer. There would be no reason to discourage King Stannis from battle and if Daenerys Targaryen returns, R’hllor will bless the one who is supposed to sit the Iron Throne,” Melisandre finally said and with a quick dip of her own skirts, she moved to head back to her tent. 

Sansa let her fingers fall from the hilt and went to stand before her husband and cousin. This made her think of something and so she reached up to cup his head. 

“Now you don’t have to worry the Gods will strike you down for fucking your sister, cousin. Do these southerner’s marry cousins?” she said with a smile and grinned when he choked in surprise and met her eyes. 

“You do realize your still in the north beneath the wall?” he asked incredulously. 

Sansa snorted, “The North is not a place, it’s a people, and those people are the Freefolk. There might be some among the kneeler’s whose heart is Northern and for that they are more my people, than Stannis’s or this Dragon Aunt Lady.”

Sansa tartly turned and made way back to their tents.

-----------

They were crossing beside a large lake when Sansa thought to ask. 

“How did this Theon Greyjoy take Winterfell if it is as large a fortress as you say it is?” 

She was sandwiched in between Stannis and Jon, riding a grey garron that was older, but sturdy. Melisandre, Mance, and Davos behind them. 

“Trickery,” Jon muttered, “He had a force attack a nearby vassal and when Winterfell sent the majority of their fighting men to stop it, Theon led a small group over the wall and took the keep.” 

Sansa hummed, “And this Dreadfort, the Bolton’s own keep is not but a bit over 100 leagues from here?” 

“Yes…” Jon said cautiously and Sansa could see that he recognized something in her face, “What are you thinking?”

Sansa thought of her men and the number they said were at Winterfell. There could not be many left at the Bolton’s keep, but these southerner’s seemed very attached to their stone houses. 

“Could we not do something similar? Surely this Roose and Ramsey have heard of our army marching, but they might not know it is made up mainly of my people. They probably assume it to be your own army and one not used to fighting battle in this terrain. Send a group of my own to take this Dreadfort and draw these pretenders from Winterfell. They would easily be taken care of by ambush on the journey between Winterfell and their own ancestral stones. Then we take a smaller contingent and take back Winterfell,” she said aloud and tried to ignore the way Jon was staring at her. 

“You would have us be as dishonorable as a filthy ironborn?” Stannis said incredulously. 

Sansa could not help but roll her eyes, ”I’d see as few of our combined men and women die as possible so that we may better survive the long night, but call it what you will. I care not for your southern ideals of morals beyond a night’s enjoyment of listening to pretty songs and fables.”

“Lord Stark was honorable, Robb was honorable and it got their heads cut from their body and practically destroyed the North. I say we go with Sansa. Roose Bolton broke guestright and his own oath to his King, he has no honor to be dishonored,” Jon quietly said. 

Stannis was quiet for a bit and Sansa wondered what demons of his own he was fighting in his head. Then he turned and looked at Jon, before sighing. 

“Select your men that will go to the Dreadfort, Queen Sansa. I will do the same among mine. You know Winterfell best, Lord Stark, so you select the contingency that will take the keep once the men are gone,” Stannis gritted out as if being forced to say the words. Then he turned and galloped back. 

----------

It was nearly a moon more when a large number of the Bolton forces left Winterfell and marched towards the Dreadfort. There were forty of her people with her and several men Jon had chosen hiding among the thickness of the recent snow. They made way carefully at the hour of the wolf.

It took no time at all to catch the walls with their hooks and scale the wall. 

Sansa took great amusement in the idea that they were taking back her ancestral home the same way they had originally planned to scale the wall itself. She watched amused as Jon kept her behind him and they made their way further in. 

Her people made quick work of all watchmen that came near before they began to move into the keep that Jon pointed out. It was when they were in what appeared to be the living quarters of the family that Sansa had her first moment of recognition. A woman with hair a similar shade as her own was standing in front of Sansa and curly haired boy and waving her finger. Sansa knew it was her mother and she could almost hear a soft, singing voice in the back of her head. 

Shaking herself out of her memory, Sansa stopped at the end of a hall and motioned for two of her people to go forward and kill the men standing guard in front of a specific set of chambers. They made quick work and the men did not even have a chance to raise an alarm of any type of sound. 

She stood by Jon, who had drawn his sword, as their people busted through the double doors. 

A rather pretty, but thick woman jumped from the bed as an older man did the same. His hand went immediately to a crossbow, but Tormund threw a blade to pierce at the palm of the man. 

“Who the…” the man began but was pressed into the floor onto his knees. 

“Take the woman and find a place to secure her until this is over,” Jon ordered as he stepped forward with Longclaw. He looked at the man on his knees and then around the room. His hand reaching out to caress the wooden bed frame. Sansa realized it was a carved wolf and she wondered if this had been her parent’s chambers. 

“Do you know who I am?” her husband asked as he stepped forward into the light of the moon shining through a window. The man glared and took him in from head to toe. 

“You must be the bastard. You're too old to be any of the others if they had been still alive. Did you break your vows to the wall to be here?” he said in a low voice. 

Sansa finally just laughed, the dramatics of everything was too much. 

“He is Lord Stark, but you should be more worried about me,” she said with a light voice as she stepped forward.

“Stannis named you Lord and legitimized you. The north will never follow a bastard,” the man ignored her and continued to stare at Jon. Sansa narrowed her own eyes as responded again, not giving Jon a chance to speak. 

“My name is Sansa Stark, Lord Bolton, I presume?” she icily demanded and when the man’s eyes widened. 

“Good,” she answered at his obvious identity when the man refused to speak, “I was planning to let Jon just cut off your head since he thinks that's the way to do this, but I think we might see how you’ve been treating the people here that served the Starks. Let’s see if your House has lived up to its words. You see, even my people, go around your lands when escaping the land of always winter. I think after we discover the worst of what you have done here, then we will do the same.”

With that Sansa stepped forward one more time and brought her foot down hard against his face. Roose Bolton fell to the ground in a heap. 

“Secure him until we finish sweeping the keep and clearing it out of Bolton men,” Jon ordered, “And open the gates to the rest of our people.” 

Hours later, Sansa and Jon stood facing one another in the rooms that had been her parents. Staring into her eyes,  Jon pulled her tight against him and pressed his lips to hers in a fevered kiss. 

“Winterfell is yours, Lord Stark,” Sansa whispered against them. 

Jon made a noise of discouragement, “No, My Queen, Winterfell is yours as is my heart, now and always.”

-----------

It was almost three years later when Sansa stood before her father's statue in the Stark Crypts. It would not be long now till her husband and herself would return to their people beyond the wall. They still called her queen and Sansa would honor their choice everyday of her life. Jon's responsibility to the North would soon be over and they could be free. Between bringing the North the heel in time to prepare for the dead, Jon and her people attempting to help Stannis take the throne only for him and many of his people to be blown up on ships, and reminding a dragon queen that it really did not matter if the North knelt or not since the dead were coming for them all. Sansa grinned as she remembered Jon standing before the black glass throne and telling it to the woman's face that she was welcome to take her people back across the sea if she wanted to wait to die where it was warmer. 

Then the green dragon slamming in front of Jon and putting his wing down and the secret being blown. Thankfully the dragon queen had played nice till after the long night and when Sansa refused to kneel to her, Jon took to the skies with Rhaegal. By the time the fight was over, both Drogon and the dragon queen were dead and Jon encouraged Daenerys's people to leave with Rhaegal. They were not happy, but they did as they were bid, except for the Dothraki left. They seemed to think that Jon's battle meant that he was their new Khal. Jon and Sansa just combined them with their own people and sent them beyond the wall. 

Then the great rebuilding began and continued until the day a raven came that announced that Cersei Lannister was dead, along with the remaining Kingsguard, Jaime Lannister, and several other members of the small council. 

A crunching noise drew her attention back to the present. 

“When the snows fall and white winds blow, the lone wolf dies, but the pack survives.”

The girl that spoke to Sansa was a brunette with short cropped hair and she held a small sword and wore breeches. There was a familiar look in her grey eyes and Sansa tilted her head as she considered the strange girl who had come upon her in the crypts of her bloodkin. 

Ygritte stood back in the shadows and Sansa knew she had her bow out with an arrow knocked, but Sansa held her hand out to stay any sudden shots. 

The girl laughed. 

“I will not hurt your freefolk guard, although this place is for Starks and Stark blood alone. You are the lost Stark daughter, arrived home as the Queen-Beyond-The-Wall. Do you know who I am?” 

Sansa felt herself smile, probably showing a little too much teeth, “Grey eyes as serious as a widow made five-times-over having her sixth husband die mysteriously, what appears to be more brashness than commonsense, and a wild look about you that reminds me of my husband’s fury when his aunt tried to kill us after the long night?”

She paused and stepped closer, “That would make you my supposedly dead sister, Arya.”

The girl tilted her head and considered Sansa, “You are not what I expected. The septa always said I was never enough of a lady and it was a shame that you had disappeared as you were nothing but a lady.” 

Sansa barked out a laugh, “There’s not room for ladies beyond the wall. Welcome home, Arya. My husband, your cousin, will be glad of your survival. Bran came home before the long night and Rickon was brought home by a fat lord from the sea.” 

“Lord Manderly, I heard. I’m sorry I didn’t make it home before the battle that happened. I did not hear of it until it was over and I was in King’s Landing,” Arya murmured as they turned and made way from the crypts. 

Sansa’s eyebrow raised, “What were you doing in King’s Landing?” 

“Killing a queen. That last name on my final list before coming home,” Arya said as they climbed out and into the coolness of the spring night, “Is it true that Jon and you are going back beyond the wall once Rickon is settled in as King in the North with Bran as his regent?”

Sansa startled at her sister’s knowledge, “Aye, Jon and I will be returning North to settle our people now that the threat is gone. It seems that enough of the old guard died that we will perhaps be able to establish some sort of relations beyond the wall and North Westeros.”

“Can I come with you?” Arya said as they entered the keep. 

Sansa smiled as a shout came from the head table and her husband began rushing forward. 

“I think I would like that. Who better to help the bond between the Queen-Beyond-The-Wall and the King in the North than a sister of them both,” Sansa managed to answer as Arya was immediately swept away from her side and into her husband's arms. 

[emilythecosmicbun]

Creepypasta OCs.

Any updates information is on Wattpad WATTPAD: https://www.wattpad.com/story/255861941-creepypasta-ocs-emily-elliot-and-stedge

TW BLOOD, ABUSE MENTION

cottontailprincess is my Instagram and Emilythecosmiccat is my username on some art websites.

They/Them pronouns please

do not sexualise me, my characters or my boyfriend please he isn’t comfortable with that.

okay so these are my two vent ocs.

Emily/Elliot (Bunny.)

one of them, as you know, is my impure agere oc, representing all the sad and flashback parts of everything. I made them to help cope with my thoughts and feelings. They are based off of my appearance and my trauma. They age up with me.

BASIC INFO

Full Name: Emily/Elliot Bunzelle but prefers just Emily or Elliot.

Nickname(s): Bunny, Emmy, El, Em, Princess, Prince, Princette

Meaning of name: Emily (from Urban Dictionary.) An Emily is someone who is crazy inside and out. She knows who her friends are and try’s hard to look after them. She is very pretty but doesn’t always know that. She isn’t always the most popular, but to her that doesn’t matter. She has friends from all ages and they all adore her. She hides her feelings however upsetting they may be.

Meaning of name: Elliot (Urban Dictionary) Elliot is a true master at caring. He teaches how to love and be loved. A man of honour a man of steal. He's as handsome as a Greek God, as strong as diamond, as compassionate as a saint and is as gentle as a father's touch. Elliot possesses a magic within to create a vision in the eyes of all, leaving them stunned at how brilliant and perfect Elliot truly is. A leader, a spirit lifter, a lover, a giver, an Elliot'll leave you speechless with his being, his essence.

Gender: Non-Binary

Pronouns: They/Them

Age:

Currently 19, same as IRL me, though they physically and mentally regress to younger ages, so their age varies. Their main ages are variants of 1+

Date of Birth:

August 21st (Body born in 2001)

Race/Species: English and a Spirit or Entity.

Native language: English (as in England English.)

Orientation/Sexual Preference: Bisexual Personality: Silly, playful, honest, caring, childish, bratty, stubborn, sweet.

Are They Dead: No but they aren't alive either. Somewhere in between.

Any Mental Health Issues?

C-PTSD, due to multiple traumatic events. They frequently experience multiple flashbacks and nightmares, and is usually terrified of leaving their safe space unless it’s with Stedge, even then, they panic.

Triggers: Listed Here. Triggers page on my Carrd.

Powers/Special Abilities: Can float slightly off the ground, is able to phase through walls, spew blood at will, and look "alive" when speaking and comforting children, or just around those they trust.

APPEARANCE:

Looks:

Very young child:  Short but very curly/wavy brown hair, a bit lighter than when they are in older looking forms. They wear a pink dress with a white shirt under, and black school shoes. However, they can also just wear a sonic shirt and leggings, or a skirt.

Child:  They can vary but their usual look is long curly/wavy brown hair, brown eyes, pale skin, blood on their mouth and nose area, tired-looking eyes, pink dress, sometimes a nightgown, depending on the look, they can wear socks, bunny slippers or even go barefoot! Sometimes they wear bunny ears! Sometimes they like to wear sonic gear.

Teen:  Depending on the age as a teen, at the point it's  "kawaii" inspired things, sometimes just a Melanie Martinez shirt and pants (or skirt), sometimes overalls! They also wore band merch, stuff like that. They have either long brown hair, black hair or multicoloured hair like Melanie Martinez (dyed in variants such as pink, red, blonde (more like light ginger.)

Adult:  Band tops, but also ones with cute designs on such as bunnies or kittens, sometimes overalls or dresses, sometimes even onesies, since they can still have the traits of an agere headspace. Short Brown hair, is a lot chubbier than the rest, can be considered mid or plus size.

Height: Varies depending on form and age, but usually smol.

Weight: (UNKNOWN BUT IT VARIES.)

Hair color: Dark brown/Brown

Eye color: Brown

Scars and/or skin conditions: Has a few bruises and a few cuts in some places, but I prefer to not draw them.

Has a skin condition called psoriasis. (I have it IRL.)

Never Seen Without: White Bun, and their three Cream The Rabbit plushies.

Likes:

• Things with peaches (the fruit) on them. (Including peaches and peach ice tea.)

• Bunnies

• Their Caregiver, Stedge.

• Drawing, and colouring in.

• The colour pink.

• Sonic The Hedgehog.

• Porcelain Dolls

• Stuffed Animals

Dislikes:

• Abusers (including physical, mental and sexual abusers.)

• Those who take advantage of vulnerable people.

• People who don’t take them seriously.

• Drama.

• Being abandoned or left alone.

Relationships:

Stedge - Partner in crime, best friend, caregiver and lover. (Depending on age of course.)

Cream.exe (Sally.exe game) - practically twinning, bunny loves to hang out with cream.exe. (my highest kin, apart from cream herself.)

Family Members - Depending on which member, they do have a good bond or a negative one. Bunny loves them on different levels, some of them, they hate.  This does not reflect on how (I myself) feel about said family members.

(If you want your creepypasta oc to be friends with Bunny, just ask!)

OTHER INFO:

• They age up with my current age since they aren't dead and they are based off of me.

• I decided to make them some sort of entity since I couldn’t make them a ghost and still be alive lol they age up with me.

•Their “trauma” is the same as mine, which is why I won’t write it in detail here but they are a victim of abuse.

• They are all bloody because its how I feel about my trauma.

• They physically and mentally regressed to the age they are supposed to be, if they are in their child forms, they are an actual child. (Direct reference to my age regression I use to help me cope with my trauma) They prefer to be in this form so they can protect and befriend children. They don't harm children or other victims of abuse. The children usually call them “bunny.”

• When they're in their adult form, they have a partner called Stephen. Someone who they have known since they were 17 years old. When they are a “child” he takes care of them and protects them to make sure they don't ever get hurt again.

• Their sense of justice is what caused them to want to help other children. They never want to see another child go through what they went through.

Any Other Info is on the Picture.

Stedge

Well, I also made a creepypasta oc to represent my boyfriend, someone who I love and trust to help me during those horrible times. He’s like my partner in crime. lmao also his age isn’t rly there because he ages up with his real life counterpart, which will get updated.

REMINDER TO NOT SEXUALISE HIM AS MY BOYFRIEND IS UNCOMFORTABLE WITH THAT.

BASIC INFO:

Name: Stephen

Nickname(s): Stedge, Mr. Bubbles (by Emily/Elliot.)

Meaning of name: Stephen The most beautiful boy in existence. Has stunning eyes, that make your heart fall through the floor when they crinkle with his perfect smile. Is deep, unlike most boys, and extremely intelligent. Has a big heart, and he doesn't realize when he's being taken for granted. Even though he would never admit it, he sometime's can't see what's right in front of him. An over-analyzer, and very stubborn, but he will admit defeat when he has to. Likes to drive girls crazy, apparently. Easy to fall in love with. Hard to figure out.

Gender: Male

Age: Ages up with IRL person. Currently: 19.

Date of Birth:

9th April

Race/Species: English, Human.

Native language: UK English.

Orientation/Sexual Preference: Straight

Are They Dead: No

Any Mental Health Issues? No, None that we know of.

Triggers: None that we know of.

Powers/Special Abilities:

He doesn't have many powers but he athletic and can run quick and has a good amount of strength. He uses a bat and other various stuff.

APPEARANCE:

Looks:

Short brown hair, brown eyes, a bit of facial hair, variants of a black or dark grey shirt, but obviously not only those, sometimes they’re ripped.

Hair color: Dark brown, brown.

Eye color: Brown.

Scars: None.

Personality: He is quite intelligent and mature, behaves childishly in front of Emily/Elliot, cold and serious, is kind, polite, protective.

Hobbies and Likes: • playing the guitar

• skate (skateboarding)

• listening to tunes

• spending time with Emily/Elliot.

Dislikes:

• Abusers, people who take advantage of vulnerable people.

• People who are cruel to Emily/Elliot.

Relationships: Bunny - Best friend, soulmate, would do anything to make bunny smile, frequently gets them stuffed toys and food.

EXTRA INFO:

He is a few months older than me in IRL, his age is 19 right now, along with mine but will be updated.

Stephen is a human, and helps take care of Emily (in their child forms.) since they are a child and very vulnerable in that state due to their trauma, when they’re adult they are romantic towards each other.

They work together as a team when bashing and killing abusers. While he uses physical means, Emily uses mental.

Any Other Info is on the Picture.

WATTPAD: https://www.wattpad.com/story/255861941-creepypasta-ocs-emily-elliot-and-stedge

[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!

[yeetingmyfeeling]

Run, Run, Run!

Chapter Two

Brian woke up with a start. His injuries felt mostly better, but he was still in his wolf form. He sat up, looking around the room. He could still only see through one eye, making him frown. He sniffed, smelling too many different, unknown scents. 

He hauled his body up, whining at the pressure on his paws. With this he quickly changed back to his human form. As he did, he heard a knock on the door. Brain squeaked.

“Hey! I’m just here to help clean up your wounds,” A voice called out. “There are some clothes on the bed, they are new and clean.” Brian looked over to the bed, indeed seeing clothes. He pulled them on. It was boxers, a grey jumper and black sweatpants. They were a little too big for his frame, but he didn’t mind. “Can I come in?”

“Y-yeah!” Brain called out quietly. He moved, sitting down on the bed. The door pushed open and someone entered the room. From his smell, Brian knew he was a wolf. He was around the same height, maybe a little taller. He had a mohawk, mullet of sorts. He gave Brian a soft smile.

“My name is Brock, what is yours?” The man slowly approached Brian, standing a few feet away from him. “I know you just pulled on your jumper, but I’m going to need you to take it off again.”

“Brian,” Responded the other. He did as asked, pulling off his jumper. Brock gestured towards his body and Brian nodded. Brock walked over, grabbing a first aid kit that was also on the bed. Brock began to dress his wounds. Brian was tense.

Brock cleaned the injury on his chest. He ended up having to use medical tape, then putting gauze over the top. He wrapped up one of Brian's hands, and one of his feet. A few other bandaids and such were placed, and a gauze over his injured eye.

“Feel free to go have a shower, the band aids are all good. Then just come down for breakfast,” Brock smiled kindly again. “Just listen for the loud yelling and you’ll find it. Are you okay with that?”

Brian nodded quietly. “Okay..” Brock gave the other a hesitant look, but got up to leave. He left the room, leaving Brian in peace. Brian spotted the other door, that wasn’t the one Brock just left through. Opening it, it was a bathroom. Brian took the leisure of having a nice, warm shower.

After his shower, he got dressed back in the clothes. He slowly walked out of his room, more scents hitting his nose. His face crinkled from the new smells, food, people, alphas. Brian continued his slow pace of walking, following the smell and the loud noises. He ended up downstairs, outside a pair of large doors. He slowly pushed them open. 

Everyone turned to look at the new entrance. Brian’s eyes widened and he ducked his head. “Brian,” It was Brock. “Come sit here,” Walking over, Brock had saved a spot for Brian. He sat down, staring at his lap. Brock pointed at the food spread out on the table. “Dig in.”

Brian looked up enough to see Brock, he was still smiling at him. He turned, looking at the food. He could feel his mouth watering. He reached over, eagerly grabbing some toast. He found the butter and the jam, spreading it on the toast. He found an empty glass, and filled it up with juice from a jug.

“So,” Brock started talking, filling up the silence. All eyes were on Brian. “Everyone, this is Brian,” Brian waved shyly, his face flush. “That’s Anthony and Marcel, they are the ones who took you home,” A friendly face looked at him, a happy looking grin. He had tattoos, Brain thought they looked cool. The man next to his was dark toned and had curly hair. “That’s John, Jarren and Scotty, they are beta’s,” John had hair down to his shoulders, going from brown to blonde. As well as spots on his face. Jarren had short brown hair and looked quite childish. Scotty looked similar, but skinnier.

“That is Luke and Ryan,” Luke was very intimidating looking, a full beard, and an arm over Ryan’s shoulder. Ryan also had a beard, but a friendlier smile. “That is Evan and Jonathan, Evan is our packs Alpha,” Evan was very intimidating, although his smile was gentle. His skin was tan, a contrast against Jonathan’s very pale skin. “Then those two, are Tyler and David,” Tyler was definitely the biggest of them all, and had the light showings of facial hair. David was skinny, but seemingly the same height. 

Brian’s eyes widened when they landed on the last two. He sniffed, their scents wasting into his nose. They both smelt so good. Brian frowned, not understanding why he felt that way. He could tell Tyler was an alpha, David a beta. He quickly turned back to Brock.

Evan was the one who started talking. “So, Brian. As you can tell, we are quite a small pack. We are looking to eventually have pups among the couples, we are finding our way around it.”

“Hard when most of us are gays,” John snorted out. 

“Yes, well,” Evan scratched the back of his head. “Regardless. Brian, it looks like you were running from something, someone? Judging from your injuries.”

Brian nodded quietly. He could tell everyone was watching him, waiting for his answer. “My pack.. They treated me like a toy, so, I ran,” He gulped, looking down at his lap. He hated feeling, and acting so quiet and submissive. He’s usually witty and sarcastic. “I finally got away, not without a few good byes.”

Evan nodded in understanding. “Well, feel free to stay with us,” He leaned forward, smiling at Brian. “I am not saying, join our pack. But, when the time comes, and you wish to, just come speak to me. Alright?” Brian just nodded in response. 

“Jon and I better head to work,” Brock stood up, Jonathan following soon after. “Who has the day off to show Brian around?”

“Myself, Tyler and David,” John responded. “I can show Brian around, teach him the ropes.”

“Don’t be too scary,” Brock pointed a finger in John’s direction. That finger quickly went to Tyler. “Don’t be all… Alpha.”

Tyler held his hands up in defence. “I haven’t even done anything!”

“Yet,” Brock’s eyes narrowed. “Brian, my number is on the fridge. If anything happens, just call, okay?” Brian nodded again. 

Slowly people started to file out of the room. They bid their goodbyes, see you laters, and headed off to work. Brian sat quietly as everyone left, finishing off his toast. He now sat with John opposite him, Tyler and David sitting further up.

Evan came up to the small Irishman, giving a small wave. “Your accent, you’re irish right? David is also Irish,” Brian didn’t respond, just chewed on the crust of his toast. Evan frowned. “I hope this place feels safer for you, and if you need anything, I am the alpha. I promise i’m not like others… Hey, you don’t have any belongings do you?”

Brain shook his head. “I didn’t bring anything, I didn’t have much anyway.”

Evan pulled his wallet out of his pocket, waving it around. “That is all good, I’m sure these four can take you shopping. Can’t you boys?”

“Shopping?” Tyler groaned, throwing his head back. “I fuckin’ hate shopping man.”

“Quit ya complaining,” David spoke, and Brian could clearly hear the Irish. “That’s fine Evan, we’ll take care of the lad.” John saluted in agreement.

Evan chucked his wallet at John, who caught it with ease. “I’m trusting you guys,” Then with a few more words or warning, Evan was gone. That left the four, sitting in an uncomfortable silence.

Brian took this chance to look at the men he was surrounded by. Mainly, the two men sitting further away from him. He shook his head, ignoring the feel in the pit of his stomach.

“Shopping?” Questioned John. He pushed away from the table, standing up. “You two go get dressed, I’ll show Brian around,” Without waiting for a response, John began to leave the room. “Come on dude,” Brian took this as his hint to get up and follow after the other.

John showed him around the house, or, mansion. There were three levels. First level was basic stuff like kitchen, dining room, living room, a few closets, two bathrooms, things like that. The second level was everyone's rooms, as well as spares. Some bigger than others. The third level was Evan’s office, storage, and a games room.

Going outside there was a large car fort, three cars currently sitting there. Apparently the truck and sports car was Tyler’s, while the plain white car was David’s. Brain liked the sports car. 

They were in the middle of a forest, from the trees that surrounded the house. It was a large area, and Brian could only smell this pack. That made him feel comforted, safe. 

Tyler and David soon joined the other two outside, and Brian was upset to hear they were not going to be taking the sports car. Instead they climbed into the plain white car. David at the wheel, Tyler next to him. John and Brian in the back.

“I hate how you drive,” Tyler had his arms crossed over his chest, pout on his lips. “I wish I could drive, my car is so much better.”

“Oh shut up,” David rolled his eyes. “Stop being a whiny baby, neither of your two cars are good for shopping,” Tyler just huffed in response. 

Brian sat quietly, watching out the window as they drove. He liked that they were deep in the forest. He almost wanted to stick his head out the window, much like a dog. He leaned his head on the window, watching the trees. He saw some birds fly.

They get to a mall, David parking in the busy parking lot. Brian frowned, already seeing lots of people. They all got out of the car, and Brian unconsciously stuck close to Tyler, the Alpha. John led them through the mall, squeezing past all the people. They went to a few clothes stores.

Each time, David would get distracted by something and wonder off. Tyler would walk around, keeping a close eye on them all. John pulled Brian around, pulling out random clothes and asking if he liked them. Brian shrugged. He wouldn’t wear much at his old pack, usually just his underwear and a loose shirt. He did say he liked wearing sweatpants, shorts, and loose shirts or nice shirts.

So John took him around and bought all the clothes he would need. Underwear, pants, shorts, different kinds of shirts, socks, singlets, swimmers, pyjamas, nice clothes. Anything he could need. David was pushing around a trolley full of the bags. Brian felt so overwhelmed. 

John then took him to get other things. Toiletries, books, and other little things. According to Tyler, it’s Evan’s card so milk it. Brian has never really had people buy him things, or gone shopping. So he had no idea on what to get. John did end up taking him to get heat suppressants.

They were now sitting down having lunch, and Brian felt exhausted. He sat, quietly eating his burger from McDonald’s. His legs were bouncing in anxiousness, and he was barely halfway through his burger.

“You good?” Tyler leaned over to Brian. Brian got a big whiff of his scent, and his face immediately flushed. The smell smelt like farm, wet dog, and chocolate. He repressed the sigh in his throat. If he looked over to Tyler, ee noticed some muscle in his arm through the flannel. He gulped. 

“I think he’s tired,” John frowned. He leaned over the table, swatting at Tyler. “Let the boy breathe, big alpha.” Tyler sat back in his seat with a pout.

They soon finished with their shopping, and Brian was very happy. They packed the bags in David’s boot, some having to sit in with him and John. Then they drove home. Brian fell asleep for a bit of the ride, waking with a start before they returned to the mansion. 

Brian tiredly got out of the car, knowing he had to put all the bags away before he got to sleep. The four eached grabbed a few bags and took them up to Brian’s room. They were placed down in the centre.

Brain turned to grab one of the bags, only to run into a chest. He took a step back, glancing up to see David. The Irishman gave him a lopsided smile.

“You look tired, maybe you should nap?” David suggested. For the second time that day, Brian was hit with another scent. This time he got a smell of home, home being Ireland. Brain had to stop himself from taking in a deep breath to get more of the scent.

He just nodded. “Yeah, I think I will,” He turned to the other two and smiled a small smile. “Thank you.”

“No problem dude!” John saulted. Tyler just nodded. Then the three left. Brain walked over to the bed, faceplanted, and immediately fell asleep. 

[breakingsomething]

dark silence

@taikeero-lecoredier this one's for you! this got very, very long. 2.3k words, in fact. but i'm glad i finally got it written! please enjoy.

basic summary: chase's late night milk run goes horribly wrong.

trigger warnings: blood, descriptions of gore and injury

all chase wanted was a bottle of milk.

it was late at night, almost eight. chase hated to be that asshole that came into the store right at closing time, but he and the others were planning on making hot chocolate and watching the good place, and he wouldn't want for them to miss that. it was his fault, as henrik said, for using the last of the milk in his tea, so he'd been nominated to go get more. that made perfect sense. perfect sense that he'd have to walk down the dark, silent streets to the nearest convenience store to buy milk. it was his own fault, after all.

this was sad. why was he freaking out so much? he'd been down this exact route hundreds of times in his life. he could've made it there blindfolded. but for some reason, the combination of the cold darkness and the lack of people out was making his heart pound, his breaths quickening as he raced through an alleyway to get to the store quicker.

it was bright and slightly warmer inside, calming chase's nerves. he smiled at the shopkeeper as he paid and took his time putting his change away. no one else was in the store anyway. everything was unnerving quiet and empty.

back outside, clutching a bottle of milk in hand. the streetlights outside the store along the street had gone out.

chase stopped dead, taking shaky breaths, considering. he could, theoretically, call henrik and ask him to come get him. but he pushed that thought from his mind as soon as it arrived. what was he, five? he couldn't call henrik just because he was a bit scared of the dark. no, he corrected himself. he wasn't scared of the dark. just…creeped out, that was all. that was all.

he took a deep breath and started forwards.

with the streetlamps out, it was pitch black. he passed the carton from hand to hand, his fingers numb with cold and fear, shaking slightly. oh, how he wished he hadn't had that tea earlier. then it could be jackie or henrik who was down here. that thought made him feel slightly guilty, but he shook his head and pressed on.

something cracked behind him. he jumped, whirling round to face nothing but empty blackness behind him. fuck, fuck, but he was scared.

someone was following him. something was following him.

he started walking faster. he wished he had headphones to put in music and not hear the whispering, the crunching, the giggling, the footsteps, and fuck, now he was running, he was running and there was laughter roaring in his ears, and he was so close to home, or he should be, he should be, home was right through this alleyway -

and all the lights in the alley were bright, bright red.

three streetlamps along the right side of the wall, casting the wet floor in a wave of neon scarlet. the intense colour of it hurt chase's eyes, and hs squinted. at the end of the alley, he could see the block of flats, just across the street. fuck, he could see their living room window from here.

all he had to do was go through this red alley.

he couldn't bring himself to move. he couldn't catch his breath. his feet were bound to the floor beneath him.

take one step. the only other route is an extra ten minutes, and your brothers are waiting for you. stop being such a crybaby, don't make them wait, just go. just go.

he took a step, and instantly the alley was plunged into darkness.

all he could hear was his own trembling breaths.

there was a hand on his sleeve there was a hand on his neck there was a hand on his hat there was a hand in his hair there was -

a man, standing at the end of the suddenly illuminated alleyway.

chase just stared. it was all he could do.

the man looked… familiar. even just his silhouette. he was average height, average build, wearing a cap on his head. for some reason, chase's mind wasn't functioning, everything was going slowly and it took all his strength to take another step, further into the alley, in line with the first red streetlamp. from here, despite the black shadows casting his face, chase could see him smile.

"jack?" he blurted. it was the first name that came to mind, seeing that man. his smile disappeared.

"jack," the man at the end of the alley repeated. even his voice was jack's, but it was horrendously distorted, the tone dipping up and down in pitch. he said no more, just stood there, his body drifting in and out of focus.

chase took another step forwards. behind the man, chase could see the lights of the houses. the wind ruffled through his hair.

"who are you?" he shouted, his voice far braver and steadier than he felt. "what do you want from me?"

"who are you?" the man mimicked in the voice of a child, and a glitch ran through his body, so wrong against this real life setting. "what do you want from me?"

chase's boots splashed in the red puddles. he was in line with the second lamp now, and he felt tears of panic pricking his eyes. "can you leave me alone? please, please, i need to get h-home, i need to get away!"

by now, he understood. he knew what was happening. that didn't make him fear this any less. a jolt went through him as he realized that the hat the man was wearing was his own. chase's hair was hanging free in a loose bun, the scar on the side of his head showing for anyone to see.

this time, it was the man that stepped forwards, into the light.

he looked different from the last time chase had seen him. he had a yellow scarf wrapped round his bandaged neck. his bare arms were covered in scars, mostly in the areas where jack's tattoos were. his wildly curly hair was brown now, poking out from the sides of chase's grey and pink hat. when he smirked, a fang pointed out from his mouth.

"jinx!" anti crowed. he spread his arms out, grinning as his eyes turned a solid black. "ah, ah, what a long time it's been! last time i really spoke to you, jack's neck had never even seen a knife, haha!" he giggled maniacally, and chase noticed the huge kitchen knife in his hand. how hadn't he seen that already?

"aiden," chase said. his voice shook. "i don't - i don't understand."

the man's face darkened into a sneer. "don't ever fucking call me by that name if you want to keep your pathetic little tongue, jinx."

chase subtly patted his pockets, searching for anything that he could use against the glitch. all he had was the milk in his hand, a packet of cigarettes, and a lighter. what a fat lot of use that was.

anti took an exaggerated step forwards, lining himself up with the third lamp. they were so close to each other now, so close that chase could have counted the freckles covering his face and arms, could see the white scars tracing down his face from his eyes. they were new. chase didn't remember those.

"jinx, jinx," anti crooned softly. his hand touched chase's face, gently lifting his chin up. "oh, i have wanted to speak to you like this for so long now. even before i had your dear arzt in my possession." he tossed back his head and flickered his eyes, and when he lowered his head they were brown again. "ah, and the doctor was so fun! his screams were lovely, jinx, you should have heard them!" he laughed like he had been regaling a funny story rather than recounting tales of his brother's torture. "he called out your name so often. of course, he stopped when i put the tip of my blade on his tongue and pressed down with the promise of -"

chase whacked anti in the side with the bottle of milk.

he hadn't thought it through. anti doubled over for only a brief second, immediately straightening and lunging for chase. chase cried out as anti seized his wrist and slammed him into the wall, kicking his shins in to prevent him from rising again. before he could even try to move, anti's knife was - oh, oh. it was slicing through his sleeve across his arm like it was nothing. oh, fuck.

chase howled in agony, the wound instantly throbbing and spilling blood down his shirt. he clutched at it, sinking into himself in an effort to avoid being injured again. all the fight had instantly gone out of him.

"please, please," he whimpered. god, he was pathetic. anti had crouched down in front of him, and chase forced himself to look into his eyes, tears pouring from his own and stinging when they fell onto his arm. "god, fuck, no more."

anti was laughing loudly. "well fuck, jinx, i thought you could handle far more than that! only one little cut, not even a vein or anything! do you know what your brother had to go through in his time with me?" his hand gently brushed over chase's neck. "maybe you should ask him the next time you see him."

chase squeezed his eyes shut. breathe. breathe. "where are my children? louise, connor? please, please, aiden…" he cracked his eyelids open again, fresh tears spilling out. "please tell me they're ok."

for a moment anti was silent. then he frowned. "that's the wrong name to use if you want any answers out of me."

the fingers that were gracing his neck suddenly squeezed, instantly cutting off all of chase's air and causing him to gasp, clawing at the wall behind him in an attempt to pull himself up. anti just watched, amused, the knife in his other hand tapping playfully on chase's thighs.

"ba - stard -" chase spat, his chest heaving with need to get air, air, air. without warning, anti got to his feet, pulling chase up with him. he couldn't get his footing, and desperately grabbed anti's arms, wheezing. the red lights blurred as tears obscured his vision entirely

"ant - can't - breathe!" he spluttered. "can't -"

anti let go as suddenly as he'd grabbed him. chase collapsed to the wet floor, coughing and spluttering, but before he could even get his breath anti's knife was right against his throat. "fucking pathetic, pathetic, pathetic, your weak older brother could handle more than this! ah, maybe it's a good thing me and dapper have your kids, you're clearly no good for them, what kind of a fucked up role model are you? drinking, fighting in bars, are you some kind of wild animal?" he dug the blade into chase's skin, and he could feel small trails of blood seeping from it. "do you need to be tamed, jinx?"

and for some reason, there was only one thing that chase took from that whole furious spiel.

"who's dapper?"

anti's expression changed from smug satisfaction to shock to pure rage. "shit," he mumbled.

and then the knife was in chase's neck it was ripping through skin and the front of his body was wet with hot blood practically spouting from the wound and that wasn't all, that wasn't all, there were stabbing pains in his arm, slashing though him, he tried to scream and copper bubbled into his mouth and the world -

went black.

he woke in hospital.

"chase? hey, bro, you awake?"

his eyelids were too heavy to raise. he could feel his arm hairs standing on end from the cold already, a chill going through his aching body. and fuck, all the pain hit him at once. it burned, and he could feel each individual cut, each bruise. chase groaned loudly. even that movement alone caused his throat to scream with pain. god, everything hurt. he wanted to cry.

"chase!" it was jackie. fuck, it was jackie, reddish hair and dark blue eyes and big round glasses perched on his crooked nose. he leaned over chase, concern etched into his face. "shit, shit, i'm so glad you're ok, i thought you were going to - i thought -" he sobbed noisily, covering his face with his hands. "i'm going to kill that bastard!"

chase's throat burned. he raised his hand and softly touched the bandages on his neck. ah, now he remembered what anti had done.

"ja'ie," he tried, but his voice caught and he couldn't get the words out. "di'nt… ge' th' milk home..."

jackie blinked, then laughed, tears streaming down his face. "you're really worried about the milk? chase, we thought he'd killed you! there was so much - so much bl-blood, so much -" he sniffled, his chest shaking. "fuck."

chase leaned his head further into the pillows of the hospital bed. the walls were a pale blue, he could see now, and there was a lot of equipment - he couldn't think of any names. shit, had anti really cut his throat?

"you're lucky henrik got there quickly," jackie said, scrubbing at his face with his sleeve. "we went out looking when you didn't come back and we saw the red light from our window. fuck, we were so scared, chase." he ran his fingers through his hair, letting out a trembling breath. "chase, it was - it was… anti, right? not…"

chase nodded. not marvin, he communicated. not marvin.

jackie nodded, more tears threatening to fall. "ok," he murmured. "henrik is getting some food at the vendies, he'll be up soon. you'll be ok, we'll be ok. this is ok."

chase couldn't even muster the energy to respond. he just closed his eyes and listened to his friend break down, the light behind his eyes a dangerous red.

[secretsantasides]

Gift #1: By Day, By Night

Gift for @aggressiveshipper

Prompt: LAMP, Soulmate au.

People whispered that the town was cursed. Monsters lived in every nook and cranny for leagues. Thieves and bandits attacked the townspeople on their yearly journeys to sell wares at the marketplace. Demons prowled the forest surrounding them, and ghosts haunted the night long after they had passed on. A sorcerer was rumored to live in a tower in the woods, and the mountains were littered with dwarves. The trees surrounding the town seemed to move in the night, and most people who strayed off the path winding through the woods were never heard from again. Dragons flew overhead every night, but were nowhere to be seen in the morning. People whispered that the town was cursed. Maybe it was.

Logan watched his students attack straw-stuffed dummies. The head of the class, Thomas, fought with the most vigor, stabbing and slashing, wildly ripping at the fake soldiers until they were reduced to shreds. He stood, panting, wiping the sweat and hair out of his eyes. Clapping his hands to get their attention, Logan shouted, “Very good, everyone! See you tomorrow!” The students dispersed, and Logan exited the training area as well, straightening his shoulders to rid them of the tightness. He walked down the small village street, past the market vendors who advertised amulets ‘guaranteed to protect you from dragon attacks!’ Logan snorted. Those didn’t work, obviously. He entered a small bakery, which was run by his best friend, Patton. The curly-haired baker was always smiling, handing out treats to children, and making everyone’s day just a little bit better. Every time that Patton smiled, a piece of Logan’s heart melted. He fell in love whenever the baker talked. Patton was only a touch taller than Logan, but every time he looked into Patton’s eyes, he knew he was looking at the stars. But he couldn’t be in love with Patton. He just couldn’t be. The mark tied his soul to others. “Hello! Logan, how was your class?” Patton smiled brightly behind the glasses that enlarged his eyes so well. Logan blushed faintly, but replied, “My students performed exceptionally well today. May I please have one loaf of bread?” Patton nodded, and passed the bread to him, taking the few pieces of gold. “See you tomorrow!” Logan reluctantly left the shop, clutching his bread and watching the afternoon sun drift lower in the sky as he walked to his cottage at the edge of town. He added his newest loaf of bread to the growing pile, knowing that he would end up giving most of it away to the students in his class. To tell the truth, Logan only bought bread every day so that he could see Patton more often. There wasn’t much else Logan did. Aside from... He shook off the thought and adjusted his shoulders again, hoping to find relief in the new position. Through the small opening in his wall, he could see the sun lowering closer to the ground, and he fixed his navy robe and headed out into the evening. Wandering into the forest, Logan watching the sun sink lower into the trees. A hollow oak afforded him a place to stash his robe for the night, and he shivered in his thin white shirt. He let the scaly wings that had been trapped inside his robe all day spread, bracing himself. The sun touched the horizon. Immediately, a shot of pain cracked through his body. His head spiraled, and the crown of his head felt like it had been lit on fire. Horns erupted from his hair, growing with his wings and Logan curled up on all fours, silently retching and crying. A tail wrapped around him next, and Logan grew, his face turning scaly. He forced himself to focus. Deep breath in, deep breath out. His clothes, instead of ripping to shreds, now melted nicely into his skin, which was quickly becoming shiny and tough. Throat burning, he opened his mouth to let a small flame out, smothering it with one huge claw before it could spread. He wobbled to his feet, and opened up the dark blue wings. Logiltis the dragon, tears still running from eyes he no longer had, flew into the starlit night. Virgil had been waiting at the meeting spot for a while, pacing around and around, impatiently wondering where the others were. Romulus arrived first, the fire that permanently burned at the end of his tail sputtering and flickering. He had obviously flown here fast. Logiltis showed up next, breathing flames onto their bonfire. He was the only one allowed to do that at this point, everyone else might set the forest ablaze again. Now they were just waiting on Patarius. The light-blue and grey tinted dragon came skidding into the clearing a few minutes later, panting. “Sorry, everyone!” he gasped. Virgil thought that he had seen a white strip wrapped around Patarius’s neck, but it flew into the fire and was burned to ashes. Logiltis was pacing around the outskirts by the trees. “It is certainly getting colder. Make sure your wings don’t freeze. They could be torn beyond repair.” “Hah!” piped up Romulus, who was sprawled out across the ground. “I don’t have to worry about that!” With a smug grin, he waved his tail around, showing off the flickering flame at the end. Virgil pushed it away, growling playfully, “I thought you cared, Oh Fiery One. You aren’t going to try to keep us from freezing?” Romulus let out an offended snort, smoke rising into the chilly night air. “Wha-bu-of course I would! I just wanted- Logiltis is right, stay warm when I’m not around to save you.” “What if we just migrate for the winter?” quipped Patarius. The others let out roars of laughter. This idea was pitched every year, and they had never once left. Virgil couldn’t go. He was certainly the only one who wasn’t a full dragon. What if he turned back while they were flying over the sea? Would the others notice? Or would they keep going without him? Logiltis sat neatly by the fire, curling his wings and tail around him gently. “I, for one, have no reason to doubt that we can survive another winter here, having made it through fifteen of them alrea-“ “Bedtime!” Patarius chirped, snuggling up to Virgil. Their nightly ritual was something Patarius had proposed years ago, “because we need to stay alert during the day, just in case humans come!” It was a good sentiment, Virgil supposed, but he didn’t do anything most days. He could barely understand other humans. The cuddle pile was steaming in the cold night air, and, despite Virgil’s troubled thoughts, he closed his eyes. When he woke up, it was still dark, as usual, but he wasn’t the first one to leave, which was honestly quite surprising. Logiltis was gone, so Virgil started creeping through the trees. It wasn’t safe to fly in the morning, given that farmers started working early. So silently he went on foot, dreading the pain of the sunrise. As the pink spread over the horizon, Virgil’s body slowly and painfully shrank back into a human. The only thing left unchanged, if only a little smaller, was his purple tail. His violet cloak was wrapped tightly around himself to shield from the cold, and as he traipsed through the mountains, he couldn’t help thinking of his winter coat. The red, fur-lined coat had been one of his favorite projects to make, the dragon scales feeling fresh and smooth under his fingers. And, yes, it was Romulus’s shedded skin. There weren’t many dragons that he knew in the woods, and he would have been uncomfortable taking their loose scales. But whenever the winter came around, and they shed their scales for thicker ones, Virgil always went back the next day and took them. No sense in wasting it. Virgil entered his cave, careful not to alert the pair of angry dragons that lived nearby. He started a fire and sat down by a blank stretch of wall, watching the firelight dance across it. With a sudden burst of inspiration, he dipped his hand into a crushed up berry mix and began to paint. Stroke by stroke, the picture grew, forming into a painting of a dragon, roaring towards the ceiling of his cavern. Virgil lowered himself to the ground, fingertips brushing across the rough stone to create three other dragons below the big one, their tails all intertwined. He stood up and stepped back, his berry stained hands tugging unconsciously at his shirt, revealing a mirror image of the mark on the wall burned into his chest. Patton was fuming. First, he had gotten distracted while transforming, and he tore his favorite apron. Then, he had forgotten to tell his friends about his other life...again. To be fair, he had meant to tell them for years. He just...got scared. He wasn’t meant to be half-and-half. And for sure, nobody else was like him. Who would be? Patton had woken to an empty clearing, the sun rising gently over the horizon, and a lot of pain screaming through him. He lay there suffering for what felt like hours, he got up slowly and started for his town. He was late! Before he exited the cover of the trees, he put a hand up to his curly hair, adjusting it to hide the tiny horns still poking out of his head. Once inside the bakery, he fired up the ovens and started mixing the first batch of dough. After putting in the usual ingredients, Patton stealthily added a pinch of everwort into it. Not enough for the harmful side effects, but with this extra ingredient, the bread would stay fresh until the buyer ate it. That was Patton’s specialty now. Years ago, Logiltis had proposed that they each teach the others a skill that they had, to learn more about the others. Romulus had taught them how to speak basic Gnome, Mermish, and Goblin. Logiltis told them how to defend themselves from any humans who would try and slay them. Patton had shown the others proper meal building, but ultimately, it was Virgil’s who had helped him the most. He had taught the rest of the dragons about poisonous and magical plants, and while Romulus was not-so-subtly yawning, Patton’s eyes were sparkling. He had gone back the next morning, picking all the helpful plants, and spent the next few months experimenting with them. But his experiments got a little out of hand when Molly Smith had eaten some of his healing bread with an infected cut. Not only did the infection clear up, but the wound scabbed up, then disappeared over the course of one night. Nobody suspected the bread as the culprit, but Patton resolved to be more careful. He still sold magic bread, but the magic was quieter, like the everwort. Sometimes, he would still try to give people magic bread, if he could see something wrong. Logan came in with a cut on his cheek? Patton’ll sneakily pass him some healing bread. A farmer comes in, exhausted beyond belief, but only halfway through work? There might be some energy bread in the back. He loved making people feel better. Even if he couldn’t tell them that what they were eating was magic. He tossed the everwort loaves into the oven and left them to rise, melding a new piece of dough with his fingers. Life was good for Patton. “Good work, Roman.” the king said somewhere in front of him. “Thank you, Your Majesty.” he replied, keeping his head bowed low. “I have another mission for you. The people of Maidenvale have reported angry unicorns charging them to steal their crops. Can you slay them, Roman?” “Yes, Your Majesty.” And so, Roman found himself traipsing through the woods, wishing for his dragon wings. “But no, I got the stupid fire-breath!” he yelled into the wilderness, scaring a few birds out of their tree. In a huff, he stormed onwards, waving away the little smoke puffs coming out of his nose and mouth. He approached Maidenvale, the sun already at its peak. He would have to hurry. Roman entered the town, flashing the medallion from the king and calling, “King Matthew sent me to take care of the unicorns, but please, go inside a building and wait there.” Plenty of people shook his hand, or whispered praise, or thanked him as they passed, which made Roman uncomfortable. “Are all these people this excited for the death of magical creatures?” he thought. “Because as a half-magical creature myself, I’m offended!” He drew his sword and entered the woods, ‘tracking’ the unicorns. This was all part of his act. He’d waste time ‘on the hunt’ for whatever monster he was currently fighting, after warning any nearby residents to stay inside. That way, no one could catch a glimpse of- An angry whinny sounded from a hundred steps away. Roman switched his sword to the fighting position, and rushed toward the noise. The pack of unicorns was charging through the woods, heading straight to Maidenvale. He jumped in front of them, brandishing his blade in the dim light. The herd halted, then snorted in fury, lowered their heads, and charged. A few quick flips and he was over their heads-and into his nightly pain. His nerves were screaming, but inside, Roman just rolled his eyes, waiting for it to be over. His wings spread, tail swished out, and horns erupted from his  head in the dusk. The herd had continued running without Roman in their path, so Romulus flew over their heads and spit fire, creating a barrier that they couldn’t cross, though the fireproof Romulus could. “Listen,” he hissed at them, hoping he had the right words. His Unicorn was a little rusty. “You go mountains. Not safe!” The unicorns did stop cantering around anxiously, but they just looked at him in confusion. He gestured frantically at the far off mountains. “Go.” Finally, the leader seemed to get it. Romulus put out the fire fence and they galloped off in that direction. Romulus flew off-at last- to meet his friends. After all, none of them had ever missed a meeting.

[eye-raq]

Stop it girl

Erik X Black Reader.

Warnings: Fluff, regular shit.

Summary: Erik was tired, laying out on the floor of him and his girls shared bedroom while scrolling through his phone.

“You want me to buy you a new tapestry? I saw one the other day when I was out buying some new Jordan 1s”

Erik walked back into the bedroom with a bowl of milk, double stuffed oreos floating on the top. He had his dreads braided back fresh; his home girl had her own natural hair shop and cleaned him up nice with a fresh retwist and a tappered fade. He had on grey sweats that hung loose on his hips, and no shirt.

“What did it look like? You know I’m picky.” His girl, Blessing, was into anything bohemian with soft grunge. She had her hair in long thick dreads, soft curly baby hairs, thick lips, and a cute plump body, her chest and ass too thick for anything she wore and her cute muffin top didnt help either. She was squishy and adorable and sexy and Erik loved every roll and dip of her honey covered body. She was feisty too, and when she wanted something she didn’t hesitate.

“It has some type of galaxy shit going on, idk. Purples and pinks and blacks with these little ass twinkly stars, looked like Uranus or Saturn in the background, had a quote at the bottom of it in cursive.” He put his bowl on her nightstand before lowering to the floor with her, laying on his side before grabbing the bowl again. He stuck his index finger in the bowl, dipping the Oreos further. She was busy making waist beads, one nestled around her curvy waist digging into her love handles.

“You should have picked it up you know I love anything with galaxy shit in it.” He kissed his teeth, eyes trying to focus on the classic movie she popped in her VCR, “I cant believe you still have one of these bitches, it just got a little dust too, and it’s still functional.” His eyes lowered a fraction, sleep trying to creep up on him. That was his own fault too, staying up all hours of the night.

“It’s called taking care of shit of sentimental value instead of letting it waste away.” She spoke out, just finishing up her blue and purple one she was making for a friend her fingers were getting numb now deciding to finish later, and join Erik in watching the movie. She pushed everything to the side, crawling over to lay her head in his crotch area. Her cute chubby feet with toes painted a hot pink wiggled near his bowl. He scrunched his face, playfully swatting at her feet, “if you don’t get those fat ass feet away from me girl, looking like honey buns.” She swatted at his ass causing him to grip her wrist, “yo what I tell you about slapping my ass?”

She rolled her eyes, “and what I tell you about talking about my feet? Just for that you owe me a foot massage after work tomorrow.” Erik shook his head popping a moist Oreo in his mouth, “and what you giving me?” He tried to speak between chewing. She paused, mind in wonder, hands resting on her belly. Erik just eyed her fame, mouth watering from just the look of her thick short ass bunched up on him.

“I’ll think about it.” They both turned back to the TV, monsters ball playing and that one delicious scene almost approaching. She stole an Oreo from his bowl causing him to wine like a baby. “Ask first baby that’s all I ask okay? I spent money on these Oreos.” She couldn’t help the laugh that escaped, “Erik bye.”

“I’m being forreal. Everything I have don’t belong to you, girl.”

“I have about five of your hoodies in my closet right now, E. I take what the fuck I want when I want.”

Erik did a double take, dropping his Oreo back in the bowl and causing milk to splash on her legs. Growling, Blessing wipes at her legs aggressively.

“Chill out! You getting milk on me!”

Erik playfully bites into her leg, “You got five of my hoodies? Where they at?” Erik gets up from the floor, walking over to her messy closet with jeans sling over the rail and shirts hanging off the hangers. Sliding through her clothes, Erik finds all five of his favorite hoodies freshly washed and wrinkle free.

“My all black exclusive lost tribe hoodie?! You serious? I thought I lost this shit and your chubby face ass had it the whole time?!”

“Shut the fuck up with your odd shaped head! You knew I had it don’t play dumb,” Bored, Blessing decides to continue making her waist beads.

“I should throw you over my fucking knee, babygirl. You agree with that?” As mad as Erik was he decided to leave the hoodies there because they were neat and unbothered.

“Stupid ass,” he teased.

“Shut up. You’re the stupid one.”

As soon as Erik made himself comfortable on the floor, Blessing started poking him in his dimpled cheek, twisting her finger. Erik swatted her hand away every single time, finally kissing his teeth and grabbing her finger with force.

“Stop it, girl.” He shoves her hand away, causing her to laugh. This only made Blessing want to continue. She takes her chubby feet and plants them on his shoulder, wiggling her toes obnoxiously in his face. His eyes focused forward but she could see the way his jaw looked like it was going to snap from how hard he clenched it.

“You get so mad for what? I can’t mess with you but you can mess with me?”

“It’s because I’m Daddy and you do what I say.” Grabbing her foot, Erik begins to tickle her feet, that annoying screech she always made loud. Blessing yanks her legs back so bad that she kicked Erik in the head, pausing with a shocked look and a hand over her mouth. Nothing was said but the anger on his face and the reddened spot on his cheek made her laugh so hard her lungs hurt. Even through her teary eyes she could see his rage.

“Nigga, you look like you about to burn my fucking room down!” She shook her head repeatedly, “I’m so fucking humored right now; tickled.”

“Hehehe hahaha shut the fuck up.” That was his come back and it clearly went on death ears because she kept on laughing and hollering.

“Big nigga why you always mad? Chill the fuck out,” Shaking her dreads, Blessing went back to doing her waist beads.

Erik got up from the floor, seating himself on her bed to feel more comfortable. She thought he was being a sour puss but he actually had another plan. Grabbing one of her plush throw pillows, Erik wracked her on the side of her face so hard her eyes closed and her face scrunched up in ugly surprise. His laugh was the golden one, clutching his stomach and stomping his leg.

“Bro you should have seen your face! Looking like,” Erik mimicked her look before bursting into laughter again, “you mad ugly.”

She could still feel the sting like carpet burn on her left cheek. Blowing out hot air through her chubby cheeks, Blessing turned completely away from him.

“You got my fucking eye burning and my face all hot! I kicked you by accident dummy.”

“You want me to kiss it big head?” Erik tossed the pillow back in place.

“I don’t want your stinky ass lips on me ugh,” Blessing shoves his face away.

“Wasn’t saying that shit earlier when I was kissing all on you in the car,” he grabbed her by her dreads, gaining power. She fought through enjoying the force he applied by keeping a straight unbothered face.

“Stop it, girl. Stop acting like you don’t want me yanking you up and shit,” Erik kisses her temple, soothing the burn from the pillow hit. He started swinging her from side to side, humming no guidance in her ear that made her wiggle. He couldn’t sing for shit but she loved it when he sung this new song to her.

🎶 I don’t wanna play no games, play no games, 🎶

“Don’t say that last part because you know it ain’t happening,” Blessing stopped him mid song with a bitchy tone, “You don’t plan on making me Blessing Stevens I’m still gonna be Blessing Jones.”

“Forreal, B? You know I plan on making you my number one forever. Remember that time at red lobster when I fake proposed to get free cake? I can do it again but with a big ass rock.”

She smiles despite her salty attitude, “keep talking, Zaddy.”

“Nah, don’t pull that shit now,” Erik let her go, “you fucked up Blessing.”

“How?!” She pouted, “You mad at me now?”

“Yup. Turn around.”

Blessing groaned, folding her arms, “fight me.”

“Which means come fuck me.” Erik corrected.

“Shut the FUCK up.” Blessing rolled her eyes.

“Which means come eat this pussy.” Erik bit his lip to fight a smile.

“You ain’t cute. Leave me alone.”

“So basically I’m fine as fuck and you want my attention?”

“Ugh!!!! I hate you!” Blessing turned to him, ready to hit Erik upside his head but he caught her hand just in time.

“I love you too, Baby girl,” Erik gripped her chin, “you know you a bomb ass girlfriend? All that crybaby shit and getting mad only makes me want you more.” Erik gripped her neck, pulling her in for a kiss.

“You can be mad at me all you want but your ass isn’t going anywhere. You’re mine.”

“Says who? I got options.” Blessing fucked up with saying that to him.

“The fuck?” Like flipping a light switch Erik’s aggressive nature surfaced again to make her weak. Taking his hand, he wrapped around her neck with one hand and his mouth dangerously close to her hear.

“The fuck You talking to?”

“Daddy, not you,” she rolled her eyes into her head to fake annoyance. Erik just stared at her with his hard ass eyes making her squirm.

“What you looking at?” Blessing asks with a slight roll of her neck. He just licked his lips, looking her up and down.

“What, I cant stare?” He just grabbed her up and said, “man, come here.” She followed him like she just wasn’t mad at him a few seconds ago.

“Tomorrow ima fuck the shit out of you cuz you been acting crazy lately.” Erik rested his head on the side of her face.

“Why not tonight?” Blessing was wet and horny now she needed some dick, some fucking love, her hard headed ass boyfriend.

“I’m tired, B.” His eyes did speak that into existence when she turned to look at him. She admired his handsome face even though his eyes were focused ahead and ready to close.

“...damn, yo ex dumb as fuck.” She stated, causing Erik to chuckle. Blessing turns back around, pushing her booty into Erik’s crotch. He gripped her hip to stop her but she just kept on going, rolling her hips like she spelling out coconut. Erik lets out a frustrated sigh at his dick disobeying him.

“Stop it.”

“Stop what? I’m just playing.”

“This is blasphemous,” Erik spoke in a fake surprising tone, “you’re molesting me with your phat ass.”

“Shut up you know you want me to sit this assssss on you,” Blessing spoke in a melodic tone.

“Blessing, don’t start this shit. I still got a fucking cramp in my neck from eating the pussy for an hour straight, my abs still burn from doing push ups in the pussy-“

“I don’t wanna hear that shit you got more stamina than a damn horse.”

“You don’t listen to shit!” Erik yelled in her ear, flipping her over on her back. He pinned her to the mattress, face all scrunched up.

“What, Erik? I told you i got options if you don’t give me what I want,” fighting a laugh at his frustration and anger, Blessing purposely moves her hips beneath him to force him into having wild sex.

“...Bruh im a fuck you up...you acting up...what’s your fucking problem? You need some dick? You need a hug? You need your pussy ate? You need kisses? Like tell me something.”

“You finish telling me to stop now?” She questioned while looking at him a hint in her eyes as to why she’s been acting up.

“You not getting no dick with that attitude then,” he lifted off of her, laying on the other side of the bed closest to the window.

“First of all, I’m sorry.” Her entire mood changed. She decided to act innocent even though she thought about riding the fuck out of him in that moment.

“Aight, So we good?” She chanced a look at him even though she knew that wouldn’t be successful. Erik just stared at her calmly, waiting for her response.

“Yes. We’re good. No more playing.” Blessing blinked up at Erik innocently.

“So that mean you ready to get your pussy ate again?” Erik sat up, taking his hands to pull down her bottoms. Laying flat on the bed, Blessing lifts her hips to help Erik out as he slid the right fabric from her round booty. Tossing it to the side, Erik went flat on his stomach, arms wrapped around her thighs to pull her close. Blessing shielded her face like always whenever Erik kisses her gently on her inner thighs. It was torture.

“Talking about YoU NEeD To Fix YOUrr AtiTude, first of all, nigga...eat it out of me.” Blessing couldn’t help herself. Erik slapped her inner thigh to calm her ass down but that also made her laugh. She was silly.

“Stop, B,” without a warning Erik started eating her pussy. Blessing locked up around him, doing that thing with her hands where she held him in place but at the same time pushed him off of her.

After Erik successfully shut her up and had her moaning, he laughs, looking up at her weak expression and says, “You good?”

Blessing couldn’t even respond to that smart ass remark because Erik’s mouth was back on her pussy like it never left.

“What happened to that attitude? All that make me shit? Like it ain’t shit. Like I won’t eat the fuck out your soul and fuck the attitude out your soul and never give that shit back?”

That’s all he had to say in that moment while she laid back and let his tongue crave her. Erik got her ass to stop now with his tongue flicking her clit. On the inside she battled to sass him but his tongue was hitting that spot so the shit didn’t matter anymore.

[noncommited-writer]

Peter is an intern at SI, the Tower, and wins an employee raffle for a few hours with Tony (who doesn't know Peter is Spiderman)?

What the fuck. I actually went all out with this one. I have no idea how this suddenly became a 2.6k word fic!!???????? I'm concerned and confused. But hope you enjoy anyway!

Peter had no idea what dumb impulse he had to drive him to do this. But he guesses this is the price for letting his dumb ass hormonal brain take over his decisions. This being, taking part in an office raffle that he had no plans of winning or even think he’d get a chance to win. The prize is a few hours with their CEO, the Tony Stark a.k.a. Iron Man.

For some reason, the raffle extended to the interns too (which shouldn’t surprise Peter. Interns at this company are treated amazingly) so that means everyone who is twenty and naively hopeful, threw in their name into a box, on the off-chance they would get chosen out of the hundreds of employees in this building to meet the one man they all admire.

He had throw his own name in on impulse, driven by his daydreams of spending a day with his handsome boss. Yes, Peter admits he is harbouring a huge crush on the billionaire, but he reckons it’s no big deal because it seems everyone here does too.

That is, until the winner is announced across the PA systems all throughout the ten office floors in the tower. Peter felt like sinking into the ground when his name was called out, even more so when he meets the jealous gazes of the other interns. When they tell him to meet Tony Stark on the penthouse floor, Peter felt like he was on fire.

He does his best not to burrow into his sweatshirt when he walks across the silent office, everyone’s eyes piercing through him. Peter heaves a breath of relief when the elevator doors close behind him.

“Mr. Parker?”

Peter jumps, his hands waving in the air as he spins in the empty elevator.

“My name is Friday. I am Mr. Stark's artificial intelligence in charge of controlling this tower.” Peter immediately forgets about his sudden scare, now staring up at the ceiling with wide eyes and a barely contained smile.

“Woah, that is so cool! Did Mr. Stark make you?”

“Yes. He used a rudimentary A.I. base as the building blocks to my personality. From there, I basically grow into my own person.”

“Holy crap, that is amazing! I knew Mr. Stark is brilliant but I didn’t know that he was able to create an A.I. fully capable of expanding her own mind and growing like an actual human being! You are extraordinary. I bet Mr. Stark is proud of you.”

Silence greets Peter in the elevator, and he shifts anxiously on his feet. He wonders if he’s crossed a line with talking about Mr. Stark. Maybe he was being rude?

“Um, Ms. Friday? Are you okay? Did I talk too much?”

“Just Friday, Peter. I… I’m okay. No, Peter, you’re okay. I’m just… processing.” Peter frowns. Did he break Mr. Stark’s A.I.?

“No one but boss has ever spoken like that to me before.”

“Like what?”

“Like I’m an actual person.” She pauses. “Thank you, Peter.” The teenager flushes immediately, taking notice of how she is now using his first name.

“Uh, no problem. I just thought about how crazy amazing it is that Mr. Stark created what is basically a human conscience. It’s what anyone would do.”

Friday snorts and Peter had to backtrack and stop his mouth from gaping because he’s pretty sure that’s a very human reaction. “You’d be surprised. Even though many people here are interested in technology, not many have the capacity to care for it like Boss does.”

“I get what you mean. Have you heard of the printer incident with that intern from about a week ago?”

——

Tony has seen many things. The bad, the ugly, the beautiful, the good. Many of which leaning over to the former. It is a cruel world after all.

So maybe it’s because he hasn’t seen many good things in his life that it stops him in his tracks when he sees the most good—pure—and gorgeous thing in his life. Even in a ratty grey sweatshirt, he still finds himself fixated on the pretty little thing babbling along excitedly like a puppy with Friday which—hold on, Tony hasn’t even gotten over his looks to unpack that yet.

It’s the years of putting on masks and faking confidence he has under his belt that he’s able to stand up from his lab table and walk over with an air of suavity, somehow surprising himself he’s not tripping over his feet from those doe eyes that look so much better up close.

The way the kid stands up straighter and turns pink at how he gets caught with rambling to Friday is probably the most endearing thing Tony has ever seen.

“I take it you’re the lucky winner of the raffle,” Tony starts, reaching out his hand for a firm shake. The kid’s hand is warm and almost shaking with nerves as he takes it, “Yup! But I didn’t really expect to win. I kind of… joined on impulse.”

Tony only grins at that. He doesn’t step away from the kid, just looking him from head to toe after sliding his hands into his pockets.

If it’s even possible, the kid seems to turn even more pink, blinking owlishly at Tony. “Peter Parker, right?”

Peter nods slowly, and suddenly Tony’s head is filled with all sorts of ideas on how spend those hours with this bright-eyed intern. He doesn’t have much time after all, so Tony’s got to make every second count.

He gestures to the lab table, “Welcome to my man-cave. Or you can call it my safe haven.”

Peter trails after Tony further into the penthouse lab, his wide eyes taking everything in. Just when Tony is about to introduce his new baby (Mark L, a sexy little thing Tony has spent the last few days in his workshop trying to reconfigure) to Peter only to get cut off by, “Is this nanotech?”

Tony nods, waving a hand over the holographic screen and steps closer to Peter. “Yup. This baby is almost done, almost perfect down to the T. But there’s this one issue I can’t seem to get rid of. Every time I keep trying to activate it, it just does the opposite.”

Peter scans the thin lines of coding. “Are they activated through mental manipulation?”

Tony hums, watching as Peter’s brows furrow. The intern reaches up with his fingers to zoom in on a small part of the coding. Peter snaps his fingers, eyes going wide. “That’s because you’re scanning the cerebrum. I’m guessing you did the same for your other suits?”

The genius can only nod, more curious of where this is going. “You have to scan the cerebellum. Because it’s nanotech, the technology acts more intimately with your brain, almost like it’s a part of you, so you have the scan the part of the brain that controls movements like it’s another limb.”

Tony pauses, watching this pretty thing—smart too!—explain to him his mistake and somehow, it turns Tony on in all the best ways. He’s close enough to smell the faint scent of strawberries in Peter’s hair. Not creepy at all, Stark.

“Let’s see if your theory is correct, Parker. I bet lunch if this doesn’t work.”

The gorgeous intern only smirks, “I guess you’ll owe me a burger, Mr. Stark.”

——

Tucked in a small booth in the corner of a burger joint, the two men go off in tangents talking about their love of technology, their half eaten burgers forgotten in favour for each other’s attention.

The moment Peter starts rambling about how fascinating it is that Stark Industries has started using their renewable energy in other areas like cleaning water, Tony can only stare in amazement as this ball of energy showers him in praise and awe. The way those words spill out of his mouth giving Tony all the wrong ideas on how to spend the rest of the four hours they have together.

Just when Peter is about to digress to other ways Stark Industries can help the environment, the younger man goes rod stiff, eyes going hazy. Tony watches with worried eyes as the man stands up abruptly, almost tipping the entire table over. “Mr. Stark, I gotta—I gotta go, someone’s calling me.”

He turns on his heels and races out the door without hearing Tony’s muttering of, “Your phone’s not even buzzing.”

Tony tips generously and rushes out of the restaurant, following Peter’s footsteps. The moment he’s out on the asphalt, though, he feels the ground shiver. He turns to the different of a loud rumbly sound that echoes through the streets of Manhattan. He sees a large brute in a metal suit at the end of the street, a sharp pointy weapon at the top of his head, reminiscent of a horn, smashing through rows of cars and vehicles, shoving them to the buildings as if they weigh nothing.

Rhino.

Tony curses when he realises the one time he leaves his suit at home is the time he needs it the most. He taps his glasses. “Friday. ETA for the Mark L.”

“Seven minutes, Boss. By the time the suit is here—”

“Rhino would’ve done enough damage to the city already. Shit.” Tony stands up on his tip toes to look through the throngs of screaming civilians, trying to spot a head of curly brown hair. “Goddamnit, Parker. Where did you go?”

Tony knows he’s no match to the large beast, but he can’t stand idly to the side, especially when Peter is out there and possibly in danger. He pushes through the crowds, helping up the people who are getting trampled in the stampede and telling Friday to keep him updated on the suit.

Rhino is smacking cars left and right, endangering the people still inside and the people in the buildings the cars are landing on. Tony grits his teeth. He may not be able to fight him—hell, he’ll probably even die from doing this—but he has to try and buy time for the people to escape.

For once, he’s grateful for his lack of self-preservation skills when he walks into the middle of the road. “Hey, Horn guy! You mind getting off the street? You’re making the traffic worse!”

The large man drops the car he’s holding, his stormy eyes now trained on Tony who gulps. On second thought…

“Yeah, maybe you don’t know, but destroying cars is pretty expensive. Ever heard of car insurance? They’ll hate you.”

The loud deep chuckle he gives is enough to make the hair on Tony’s neck stand up, “Ha. Stark. Too dumb to hold get your suit?”

“I’d say I don’t think you’re even worth my suit. And… Is that a Russian accent I’m hearing? How’s the weather over there? I hear it’s too cold for a Rhino to reside in. Is that why you’re terrorising my city right now?”

Rhino spits on the ground, teeth grinding. “You talk too much. Like little annoy spider.”

Tony’s brows furrow as he mutters ‘spider’? Only for his thought process to be cut short when Rhino starts sprinting full speed in his direction. There’s barely enough time to roll out of the way, avoiding getting trampled to death by his large heavy feet.

“Okay,” Tony grounds out. He steps back into the middle of the street again. “I think you need to go see an eye doctor. I’ve never seen anyone miss that badly.”

The scream of anger is loud and suddenly, Rhino is facing him again, his arms out and wide. Tony knows he won’t have enough time to run away and with that realisation, he stands frozen to the ground, eyes getting wider and wider as he sees the giant run towards him.

Just when he’s about to run under his large arm, he sees a flash of red and feels a hard weight bulldoze into him. Suddenly, he’s in the air and a built arm is wrapped around his waist. “Phew. That was a close one. Don’t worry, sir, I’ve got you.”

He cranes his head to meet the blank stare of white lenses. “Spiderling?”

“Mr. Stark? Ah, that explains the whole screaming in the street like you want to die.” Tony huffs a relieved laugh.

“Didn’t know you swing around these parts.”

He feels the subtle nudge of his shoulder when the hero shrugs, “I swing around wherever there’s trouble.”

“Are you going bankrupt or did you just forget your suit at home?” The man asks.

“Left it. It’s coming soon.” They swing over a rooftop, and Tony is surprised by the almost gentle way Spider-Man sets him on the ground. “While I go stop Rhino, I suggest you wait for suit so you don’t run into the streets like you’re asking for it, Mr. Stark.”

I guess you’ll owe me a burger, Mr. Stark.

Tony’s brows raise. It’s the same exact way Peter pronounces his name. With that slight excited intonation and high pitchedness to it; he can imagine the way his lips pucker when he says ‘Stark’. He doesn’t know what goes over him when he sees the man about to leave. He grips onto his wrist, pulling Spider-Man back close into his personal space. Leaning in, he mumbles, “Thanks. I appreciate it, Spider.”

His Adam’s apple bobs up and down under his skin tight suit, and Tony is overwhelmed with the urge to peel away the spandex to plant his lips on that pale skin. “N-No problem, Mr. Stark.”

Tony’s smile is wide and almost wolfish, letting go of the man and stepping back. He already knows what he needs to know. He smelled those strawberries even through his mask.

Peter Parker.

It doesn’t take too long for his suit to arrive. He quickly flies over to the destruction, webs splattered all over the area. He can see Peter swinging from building to building, avoiding the thrown car parts at him, sometimes even catching them himself and throwing it back at the ruthless brute. Tony flies over next to him, shooting a blast to Rhino’s face, distracting him enough.

“I wonder where you get the time to do this and the internship.”

The hiss of surprise from Peter makes Tony smirk under the faceplate. “Was I that obvious?”

“Only when you kept saying Mr. Stark. Also, your strawberry shampoo was a dead giveaway.”

Peter looks at him over his shoulder, his cheeks rising under his mask. “My shampoo?”

Tony backtracks, “Uh, not that I sniffed you out or anything—it’s a pretty strong smell.”

Peter was about to respond, only to be cut off when a piece of rubble is thrown his way. Peter yells, “Talk later.”

They make quick work of Rhino, with Tony blasting him until his on his back and Peter webbing his large body up. They work seamlessly, as if years of practise made them fight like this. Tony isn’t sure what to feel about that.

When the cops arrive, both Tony and Peter get up on a rooftop building, conversation hidden and private. Peter is still trying to catch his breath, slumping against the ledge.

“So. My shampoo gave me away, huh?”

Tony resists the urge to look bashful. “It was a very distinct smell.”

Peter just laughs, throwing his head back. Tony doesn’t let the embarrassment get to him, however and quickly gives out a comment he knows will throw Peter off.

“Since we only have about two hours left together.”

“Yeah?”

“Can you show me how much of that flexibility is real and not just from the adrenaline?”

Peter stares hard at him through the mask, his eye lenses going wide. Tony swallows hard and shifts his weight on his other leg. The air is heavy and electrified, their hearts beating loudly and fast, almost in sync with each other. Tony retracts his helmet, his heady dark eyes roaming down Peter's defined body with a greedy glint, jaw ticking as his mind whirls of filthy thoughts that surprise even him. Peter doesn’t back down, however and somehow, Tony knows that whatever Peter says next will change his life.

“Only if you show me that your hands are as capable as they were during the fight.”

Tony isn’t the type to let people down with his abilities, and neither is Peter.

[cals-sunflower]

Rude girl thing(J.P)

Being Nick’s best friend meant getting to go to a lot of cool places with him. You’ve been friends since kindergarten and haven’t stopped now, he is one year older then you and has made fun of you ever since. When you found out him and the boys were going to be dropping a song with another boy band, you were so happy for them. Of course, since management knew you from the start, they allowed you to go to the video shooting.

“Wake up ugly, we gotta go in 20 minutes”, Nick jumps on your bed and hits you with a pillow.

“Nicholas, stop it”, you turned over and rearranged the covers over your head. Nick ripped the covers off of your head and jolted you up.

“Come on we’re gonna be late ma”, you got up and gave him the dirtiest look you could give him. To which he started laughing and shuffles to your closet to put out your fit.

“Great, you pick my outfit and I’ll be in the shower. By the way, good morning idiot”, you layed a wet kiss on his cheek.

“Ew Y/n, that’s disgusting”, clearly joking with you. You popped your head out and smiled.

“You love me”, you closed the bathroom door and began to wash and get your life situated.

Coming out of the shower feeling fresher than ever, you walk out and see the door closed with an outfit on the bed. Nick had picked out a white long sleeve crop top, red/black/grey/white plaid skirt, and your black thigh high boots. He also left gold hoops with a small gold chain that he brought you for Christmas.

“Hmm maybe Nicholas does have taste”, you threw on the outfit with the accessories and put your hair into a neat bun. You grab your black mini backpack, put in the things you needed (which were snacks, charger, your slides, and your lip gloss) and you headed downstairs.

“Woah, look at you. Who you tryna impress because we don’t want you”, Zion put his arm around you.

“Good because I don’t like y’all anyway”, you cracked a smile.

“Don’t drag me into this. Y/n you really look nice”, Austin complements you. You threw your arms around Austin pulling him into a hug.

“Thank you Aus. You guys look great”, you acknowledged.

“Okay, we’re gonna be late but like credits to me for this damn outfit”, Nick gave you a spin. You guys walk out the door and head into the car. The car ride was not that long, so before you knew it you guys were out of the car walking towards the door of the shooting area.

“You ready? Maybe you could find a boyfriend”, Nick winked at you. You rolled your eyes and pushed him. You guys walk up to the 5 other guys that were in the room.

“Yo what’s up”, Brandon dapped up a guy with red curly hair.

“This is my best friend Y/n”, Nick introduces you to the group then you knew but didn’t at the same time.

“Hey, I’m Richard. Nice to meet you”, he pulled you into a friendly hug.

“Christopher but you can call me Chris”

“Zabdiel, nice to meet you”

“Erick”

“Hola, mi amor. I’m Joel”, you shook each of the boys hands and Joel was bold enough to kiss your hand. You turned and gave Edwin a look.

“Okay boys lets get started”, the director called all 10 guys. Joel lets your hand go slowly and throws you a wink. Walking off the start the first few shots. You set down on one of the chairs and start scrolling through Twitter. You seen a lot of fans talking about the Cnco and Prettymuch collab. You liked the guys of Cnco..... Except for Joel, he kinda gets under your skin. Of course, you thought he was cute but he seemed really cocky.

“Okay cut, let’s take a few minutes”, the director yelled. All the guys walked out of where they were recently in frame. A sweaty Nick walked over to you and layed his head on your shoulder.

“You okay?”, you rubbed his cheek. That’s the type of best friend pair you guys were, very affectionate but didn’t have any romantic feelings for each other.

“Yeah, I’m just tired as hell”, he laughed. Joel felt jealous, he’s known you for at least an hour and already wanted you all to his self. You felt Joel’s intense glair on you and Nick.

“I have to use the bathroom, move your head Nick”, he moved his head over of your shoulder and walked to get a bottled water.

“Does anyone know where the bathroom is?”, you asked.

“I do, follow me gorgeous”, you rolled your eyes at Joel but nevertheless followed him to your destination. Once out of ear shot, Joel turns to you.

“What’s up with the attitude?”, he questioned you.

“I simply don’t know what you’re talking about”

“You definitely do. But it’s ok princesa, I like this rude act you’re giving me”, he leans close to whisper in your ear. You guys make it to where the bathroom was and he looked at you one more time before walking away like nothing happened.

“How dare him? Makes me feel all bothered and then leaves like nothing happened”, you mumbled to yourself while washing your hands. You hated the way Joel was making you feel. Part of you wanted to slap him but the other part wanted him to literally take you anywhere and any time.

“You guys are done for today. Come back tomorrow to finish up”, everyone had decided to go to dinner.

“I heard Olive Garden has really good chicken alfredo”, Richard piped in.

“Hmm can’t wait to get a taste”, Joel licked his lips and made eye contact with you. You felt as though you were gonna melt, not wanting to fall for his fuckboy ways you straightened up and looked away from him.

“Well what are we waiting for? Your girl is hungry”, you pout.

“Okay, we’ll meet you guys there. Come on ugly”, Nick grabbed your hand and walked out with the others behind you guys.

“Are you sure I’m the one that ugly shark boy?”, you looked him up and down.

-At Olive Garden-

Everyone was getting seated for the seated arrangements. Joel pulled out your chair for you. Not only did it make your heart beat but it made you nervous to be around him.

“There you go ma”, Joel pushed your chair in and sat in the seat next to you on your right side. Your face begins to heat up with your best friend looking at you with a look that basically said “i see you guys”.

Everyone was eating and making conversation with each other. Surprisingly you found yourself talking to Joel, someone who you thought had bad intentions. You didn’t want to start liking someone with a possibility that they were just gonna play you. It’s happened too many times before, so you learned to keep your guard up.

“When can I take you on a date?”, he asked straight forward. You sorta choked on your drink as those words came from his mouth. You set your drink down and turn your body towards him more.

“Joel, I think you’re really cute. Fuck hot even but your intentions don’t seem genuine. I refuse to get hurt by another attractive fuck boy”, you stood up grabbing the keys that was on the table and left without saying another word.

Once you were outside and finally in an area where you could be alone, you began to get mad at yourself.

“Damnit, why couldn’t I just ignore him? Why does he have to be cute? Ugh”, you threw your hands up.

“Umm Y/n”, slow footsteps approached you and you heard that rich sounding familiar voice. Turning around you face Joel.

“Look, I didn’t mean to make you upset. I listened to Chris and it doesn’t work for me. I’ll understand if you don’t wanna go out with me, I mean not after-“, you cut him with a quick fuck it and kissed him.

It was almost as if this was your missing piece. Your lips connected and felt like a solved puzzle. His arms landed around your waist pulling you closer even if you were a close as you could get. Your arms are at the base of his neck with your hands reaching to touch the soft curls he has.

“I guess they’re good now”, Erick turned to the other boys as each of them became nosey and looked out the window wanting to see what was gonna happen.

“Aw I thought she was gonna slap him”, Richard pouts while Zabdiel and Brandon clap obviously winning the bet.

“Hand the money over pendejo”, Zabdiel held out his hand to Richard, who hands him a $20. Making Edwin hand a $20 to Brandon.

“So , can I take you on a date now?”, Joel crossed his fingers hoping you’ll say yes.

“Yes, Joel. Friday at 8?”, you grabbed his hand.

“Yes, I’ll pick you up at 8”, he leans in to kiss your cheek. You let out a laugh and walk back towards the restaurant.

“Also are you gonna keep the rude girl thing up?”, he called out to you. You turn around briefly to send him a smirk.

“I don’t know maybe”, you throw him a wink and continue walking. Joel takes a long look at how the skirt fits your body perfectly before jogging to catch up to you. He pulled you to a stop and leans down to your ear.

“Well baby work that rude girl thing on me”, you both continue walking with a smile.

A/n: I got so inspired by this line that Joel sings in the song! Honestly Me Necesita was so good and I really loved the vibe.

[crypticcatalys]

A Second Chance For A Home Ch.4

Ch.1 / Ch.2 / Ch.3

   Ashley’s plant gazing must have gone on for longer than she thought. People had began to stand and file out of the room, each one most likely glad to be leaving the cramped space. The girl stood and joined the stream of people leaving, trying and hardly being able to see over the shoulders of the people in front of her to find the nearest lab and get her bearings. She turned down hallway after hallway before she saw anything or anyone familiar. She had somehow ended up walking behind Neya of all people.

   Even before thinking of a question to ask the woman to gain her attention a male voice behind them called out “Neya!”. Ashley turned around and saw that Norm was quickly walking towards the two of them before stopping beside the chair-bound woman. “You’re Neya right? Sylvia’s sister?” he asked before realizing that he hadn't even introduced himself. “Sorry, Norm Spellman.” he said shaking the woman’s hand. “I went through Avatar training with your sister”. Norm finally looked over and realized Ashley was standing there, casually watching the awkward exchange.

   “Ashley, hey!” he said smiling, shaking her hand as well. “Hi.” she greeted him, her voice sounding as quiet as she remembered it being on earth. “You guys want to head to the bio lab?” Norm asked not really knowing what else to ask. One silent agreement later the three drivers made their way through the RDA base to the main science section and to a set of clear doors. The doors opened with a hiss and they headed inside. “The bio lab, you guys will be spending most of your time here....” Norm trailed on, explaining most of the things he saw in the lab. Neya suddenly stopped turned herself left towards another area of the room. Ashley had begun to ask what she was doing before seeing a blue glow. Slowly walking around a large monitor she was met with the sight of three large tanks holding different sized bodies. Them.

   Walking closer a man with tan skin and curly hair greeted them. “Hi, I’m Dr.Max Patel” he said, “Welcome to Pandora”. “Damn they got big.” Neya said, amazement evident in her voice as she stared at one of the bodies. “Yeah,” Norm said, switching to speak to Max mid sentence.”They fully mature on the flight out; so their progress receptive sims seem to work really well.” Max turned and pointed at the other two tanks. “Those are yours.”

   Neya wheeled herself to the middle tank that held the alien version of herself. Ashley followed. The woman's new body looked like her, but it was blue, feline like, and huge. If standing Ashley had no doubt she wouldn’t even be up to her hip. Turning behind her she stood face to face with herself. Well...sorta herself. Just like Norm and Neya’s avatar bodies hers was blue, stripped, and far bigger than her human self. She looked like she was having a fitful sleep, either kicking or twitching every few seconds. The young girl placed her hand on the tank holding the other her, feeling a steady heartbeat, getting lost in the odd feeling.

   She felt a hand tap her shoulder, breaking her out of her trance. Spinning back around Ashley followed the small group into another room. The room was filled with desk and workbenches that reminded her of the training labs back on earth. They were even arranged in the same cubicle fashion. Walking over to a set of empty work stations Norm explained that it would be a good idea for them to get into the habit of video-logging their daily lives and anything on thei mind in general. To “Keep them sane.” he joked.

   Ashley decided to busy herself while Neya recorded her first log, telling the small camera everything that had happened so far. Using one of the open holo-computers the girl scanned through a few old field logs from other drivers on the base. Some talking about animal behavior and how they mirrored the animals that used to inhabit earth, to plants that had possible healing properties that were safe for human use. Ashley decided to put off recording her log.

    When Neya had apparently finished, after five minutes of not knowing how to end the log or stop the recording, Max was ready to lead them to the link room and introduce them to their boss for the next few years.

 Dr. Grace Augustine. 

   “She’s a legend!” Norm said basically fangirling as they were led into a circular room that held what looked like grey coffins at first glance.  “She wrote the book on Pandoran botany. She LITERALLY wrote the book!” Max laughed. “That’s because she likes plants better than people.” A sentiment that Ashley could wholeheartedly relate to. A voice then called out from the center of the room. Most likely the control and main monitor deck. “Drivers are coming out!” Several of the coffin like link pods began to slide forward out of the wall slightly, opening with a mechanical whirr. 

   On the far side of the room one of the many pods opened and a woman’s voice began tiredly yelling. “Who’s got my goddamn cigarette!?..... Guys! Whats wrong with this picture?” By this point a lab assistant, or another scientist who knows, had walked over and handed the now standing woman a already lit cigarette and a lab coat. Max grabbed her attention. 

   “There she is, Cinderella back from the ball” Max said to the approaching woman, “Grace, I’d like you to meet Norm Spellman, Ashley Webbs, and Neya Sully.” “Norm,” the red haired woman said “I hear good things about you, how’s your Na’Vi?” For a moment he looked surprised. “’Awvea ultari oengeyä, Nawma sa’nok lrrtok siveiyi.” He said, switching into the alien tongue quite nicely. The elder scientist gave a nod of approval. “Tsun tivam. Aylì'u ngian nì'it skepek lu.” “Zìsìt amrr ftolia oe, slä zene fko nivume nìtxan.”Norm said sheepishly. Grace smiled at his response, she then turned to the youngest of the group. “Ulte nga?” She asked. Touching a half clenched fist to her forehead Ashley paused before speaking. “Oe omum letam tsonta tslam aylahe, Slä oe kem si ke plltxe pxel sìltsan.” Ashley said, trying her best not to stumble over her words. 

   “Um, Grace.” Max said gaining the woman’s attention once again. “This is Neya Sully.” “Ma’am” Neya said, sticking her hand out, trying to be polite. “I know who you are and I don’t need you.” Grace told her, ignoring her outstretched hand. “I need your sister, you know, the PHD who trained for three years for this mission.” “She’s dead.” Neya said coldly, narrowing her eyes just slightly at the woman. “Big inconvenience for everyone.” Grace, now looking a slight bit remorseful, kept the conversation going. 

   “How much lab training have you had?”  “I dissected a frog once.” The senior scientist looked beyond done at this point. “You see? You see? They’re just pissing on us without the courtesy of calling it rain.” She said to Max before turning to leave the room. “I’m going to Selfridge.” “Grace maybe you shouldn’t-” “No man this is such bullshit! I’m gonna kick his corporate butt, he has no business sticking his nose in my department.” And with that she was gone.

    Max, looking disappointed but ultimately used to this, sighed and turned to the quiet three. “Be here tomorrow, 0800 hours, try and use big words.” And with that he was also gone. 

   “Should we try and find the dorms or something?” Neya suggested, slightly breaking the awkward tension that befell them the second time that day. 

   “Yeah”  

Ch 5

[belizedeservesbetter]

Oklahoma! Holy Shit!

You know what, I’ll say it. This is a perfect revival. 

Oh wow.

This is definitely one of those “run don’t walk to see it” kind of shows. I mean it. I’m honestly thinking of how I’m gonna see it again even though I just got home.  Who would’a thought I’d love Oklahoma! so much?

I honestly and truly think this is a perfect revival. Daniel Fish took the text and the show and did something entirely new and entirely different with it, but it was still in theme with the show and worked. Like he didn’t just do a stripped down and thematically amped up Oklahoma! for the hell of it. He did it for a reason, he didn’t do anything so dramatically left field, like, for instance, staging Oklahoma! in space or something equally absurd, but instead made it more immersive and in tune with actual Oklahoma. He also made it incredibly relevant, or maybe Oklahoma! was relevant all along and we didn’t realize that with Hugh Jackman at the helm. 

I guess there’s some spoilers in here, but not really cause it’s Oklahoma! and it’s been around for, well, a while. 

I’m so tired of revivals that basically do the original production all over again. This is the most unpopular opinion to ever unpopular opinion but while Hello, Dolly! was a great time (Gavin Creel is an all time fav of mine), I wasn’t totally in love with it. It didn’t take a single risk. And that’s a revival at its best! And at its worst - I’m looking at you, Carousel - if it’s not a good lavish traditional revival and it doesn’t do anything with the material, then I’m not a fan. 

Oklahoma! is one of the oldest and most well known musicals. I believe I read somewhere that it’s the first ever show to fully combine a story (or book scenes, I guess), songs and dance all together. I could be wrong, but my point is that Oklahoma! has essentially become a “school” musical. Every school has done it, even the fancy arts high school I went to that prides itself on doing “good” musicals. This could have gone very wrong very fast. 

Instead, it was marvelous. 

There are so many images in this show that are going to stick with me for a long, long time. This production was filled with so many powerful moments that I’d never ever expect. 

I love what Daniel Fish has done with this show, or more like what Daniel Fish has brought out of this show that was already there. What I saw was a show about small town isolation and small town traditions that hurt everyone except the few who benefit and how dangerous and scary the male gaze can be. What I saw was a show about “us vs. them” and moral grey areas of group conviction. This was all there before Daniel Fish directed this show, but I never saw it. 

This was actually a super frightening show. I felt on edge and super tense the entire time. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this way during a show before but the tension is hot in this show and everything about it feels dangerous, partly due to performances and partly due to lighting, which I’ll address separately. 

The show itself takes place at a potluck in Oklahoma and it feels very modern and very fresh and very inviting. Much like how I feel during Sleep No More, I felt like I wasn’t in New York. I was at this potluck with these people and all the audience. 

The house lights stayed on for the majority of the show, which made the moments when it was dark (and when it was dark it was really dark) more poignant. Brightness is akin to openness in this world and darkness is isolation and loneliness and things that can’t be said otherwise can be said here. Light is also used as feelings and emotion and the rich green light during “The Surrey with the Fringe” and that deep orange during “People Will Say We’re In Love” very much so showed just how in lust Laurey and Curly. Lust, not love. To be clear.

I never got the sense that Laurey was really in love with Curly, more that she was super attracted to him physically and he was the safer option in this town in Oklahoma where she’s going to have to marry somebody and she’s gonna have to be a farmer’s wife because that’s how things are and always will be there so it might as well be Curly. That’s what I got from Rebecca Naomi Jones’ phenomenal performance. Her Laurey is smart but also anxious and unhappy but sensible but also very, very scared. Her Laurey knew what her lot in life was before the show started but finally accepted it at the end of it. This is, by far, Jones’ best performance to date. 

Curly, on the other hand, is doing what he’s doing because he can and because the town knows and loves him. And it’s so easy to love Curly, because Damon Daunno is Damon Daunno. He’s fantastic. He’s got such an interesting voice too. Someone at intermission said he reminded them of a peacock and I think I agree. His Curly was at ease when he was loved but desperate when he wasn’t. 

Him and Rebecca Naomi Jones give really different performances of these two characters so it was really interesting to see that paired with Ali Stroker’s very classic very to the book performance as Ado Annie. Ali Stroker is and always will be wonderful in everything she’s in. Her performance paired really well with the others, by that I mean her very classic comedic Ado Annie was a good match for the more serious and intense moments of the show. What I’m saying is she’s great! She’s wonderful! 

Mary Testa is a force to be reckoned with. I know Amber Gray is amazing in Hadestown (which I’m looking forward to see but not looking forward for that 5am rush line) but I’m ready to hand deliver Mary Testa a Tony Award for this performance. She commands the stage. She’s the moral authority and the backbone of the show. She’s hyperaware of everything and knows exactly how to fix things. Testa gave me the impression that she’s seen this all before. She gives off the impression that this is how it’s always been and always will be. She was hilarious but intense, all at once. 

The person who really walked away with this show for me though was Patrick Vaill as Jud Fry. His was such a sensitive and quiet Jud who was also terrifying and left me pretty shaken at intermission. He spends a lot of Act One sitting in a chair in a corner looking absolutely devastated, which is gonna stick with me for a while. The look on his face was heartbreaking. And no one would look at him at all. Even his big Act One scene (which I’ll discuss later because I loved it) took place almost entirely in the dark. What Vaill does with Jud is pretty amazing because he’s created a sympathetic Jud but a Jud who is still a scary person. I felt for him but felt scared whenever he spoke. You could feel this profound pain about him that I wasn’t expecting at all. 

And Jud Fry is where Daniel Fish really makes things interesting. A lot of the show becomes about how isolated Jud is from everyone and how literally no one in the town likes him. He’s incredibly lonely and the town very purposely wants him to fail. 

But that doesn’t excuse his actions. He’s still Like That and he’s still scary and there’s a reason Laurey doesn’t feel safe around him. Fish makes you feel for Jud but he never ever excuses his actions. Likewise, Vaill makes Jud human and I get where he’s coming from but at the same time he’s let his circumstances make him a monster.

How Fish and Vaill interpreted Jud really stuck with me for a lot of reasons. The first and biggest being that I knew going in that Jud is the quote unquote villain of the show so seeing him in Act One during his song really put me in a weird headspace because I know that guy. I know a Jud and he has a name and a face I’ll never forget. Not to get too personal on a theatre review but a good friend of mine was killed by someone like Jud just last year. Someone who was isolated and often separate from any and all groups but he was only separate because he was mean and scary and loved guns. So seeing that person on stage and seeing the surrounding world really resonated with me. But I was able to distance the Jud Who Reminded Me Of A Boy I Knew In High School and Vaill’s very sensitive portrayal of Jud on stage, which led me to think more about how Jud is a bad guy, but so is Curly. 

SPOILER but two scenes that really stuck with me are the Jud and Curly scene in Act One and the ending of the show.

The scene with Jud and Curly in the smokehouse talking about how people would like Jud more if he was dead was super interestingly staged. The two sit together and the lights go completely out and for a while we just hear them talk while sitting in the dark. But then we get this close up live video of Jud’s face projected onto the screen and he’s weeping just about the entire time and I thought this was so heartbreaking to watch. The scene itself is fascinating because it’s basically Curly telling Jud to kill himself - and with this staging it’s very much Curly’s dark side coming out and Jud’s human side becoming more apparent. This is the first time in the show we ever really hear about Jud from Jud himself, so the fact that we either don’t see him at all or see a very up close and personal live video of him (I think it’s nice that the actor who plays Will Parker is holding the camera in the two camera moments in the show. It made it seem like he picked up a camera during his time in Kansas City) is very intimate. Then afterwards with his song was really terrifying but expertly acted.

Then there’s that finale. Oh wow. That will stick with me for years to come. Watching Rebecca Naomi Jones scream the lyrics to Oklahoma while covered in blood is a gut wrenching image that shook me to my core. An even more blood covered Damon Daunno howling the lyrics while stamping his boots on the floor was something else entirely. The whole kangaroo court of it all with a steely Mary Testa doing what she has to do made my stomach churn. Just that whole cast screaming the song at the end was incredible to watch. The sheer rawness of it all and how primal and angry and scared it was. It felt relevant. I hate when people say a piece of theatre is “important” but this felt very important. I felt that anger and fear. I knew that anger and fear. 

Has Oklahoma! always had such good book scenes? I feel like I haven’t seen a good book musical in ages and seeing this reminded me how good musicals can be for the person who loves plays. This whole production was completely haunting from start to finish, from the decades old material to the brand new direction. 

Oh yeah, and the chili was delicious. 

[phoenixfire-thewizardgoddess]

I had the weirdest dream the other night, it was both realistic, and very overdone, like an episode of a cop show or some sort of middle-budget movie.

- - -

I was at some sort of modern university type building, it was two stories, and it felt like I was in the library? You know that weirdly shaped, just off-white with a few splashes of colour and like a handful of shelves, but most computers in little rows along the wall, or in little island rectangles through the room.

But where I was, was a reception type spot, the library part was upstairs somehow; that comes in later. It was one of those vaguely shiny grey places, the reception area was curved, that semi-circle type of weird modern desk. 

The woman behind it was smartly dressed, I think it was a lavender type suit, very inviting but officious? I was trying to do something, I think student-wise and she was being very understanding and helpful; she had a headset  hiding behind her thick curly hair, and it was an odd colour choice, like red or slightly too-bright green, for the suit. I was distracted at this time, but turned when I heard something behind us.

Someone, a man trying not to look shady in his little outfit, walks alongside what I think is a security guard; the SG swipes his card, about a meter from the door or so, it’s glass and slides open with a beep. The first bloke snaps into action, shoving the SG into the wall beside them, cracking his head loud enough to hear, and darts for the doorway before the man’s body hts the floor.

The admin/librarian screams and throws herself under the desk, but the dude doesn’t care, she’s not a target; he’s just got a weapon, and begins to fire indiscriminately about the place. 

Somehow, I am inside the area beyond the reception, a few panicked people are hiding or running in all directions. And then we’re upstairs; maybe we went up stairs, no one could wwait for an elevator, the dude was behind us. 

Someone said it was a shooter, in the school, which was really weird even to dream me bc that sht does not normally happen in Australia????? but it persisted. Upstairs, no one was listening to the choas; the people there were all between 20 and 35, most on computers or reading books or frantically scribbling shit down, and they all had headphones of some type, or were in little groups talking quietly but rapidly.

No one would LISTEN to me when I said there was a weaponised nutjob coming, no one. Until this one dude seemed to realise just how frantic some of the people running through were, and took off his headphones; I found a landline (of all phones, it had a cord and was an odd pale pink seashell colour), to call 000, and he was like, “Hey, they’re serious, let’s get out of here!”

This dude was a very tall african-american man wearing what I assume was a college jacket (which was again confusing bc Australia doesn’t do that... you can buy a shitty jumper or something with your uni logo on it for a wheelbarrow full of money but that’s really it), and when he said Get Up or We’re Going To Die, people listened. It was really bizarre to see people just Move, like they’d flipped a switch from Do Nothing, to PANIC IMMEDIATELY.

Well someone on the other end of the line was listening intently and saying things like, “You stay calm, babe/baby (?), help is coming. Get out of sight.”

And as the people were dashing out the other side, there must have been other stairs; it was fine, the stragglers were hiding or ducking or being Encouraged to Get the Fuck Out of There. 

The dude with the arsenal really did take his time, but when he arrived, he just kept shooting at everything. Books, ceiling, wall, computer, etc. It was like, Should Have Gone to Specsavers. Darkly funny in a messed up way. 

----------

And basically it was all so very surreal, because this didn’t make any sense. My dreams are usually like real fucked up or quests or punching titans in the face or overthrowing shit, leading a band of people through a monster-infested house, fighting demons, or that one thing with muppets that involved a roadtrip i can’t remember but i think someone got sacrificed, or the dream about stark trek and tidal waves, or that one where a rip-off freddy kruger was murdering my high school classmates in their dreams and i had to kick his fucking arse in a tent in a cornfield and it was super weird, or the one where i fought a pterodactyl wth a frying pan, or the lion from the sea my polyamorous warrior guild had to fight whilst on holiday, or the sharks on a train slash actor dream, or the Two occasions we fought our way through jurassic park when the hungry dinosaurs were unleashed on tourists during the final parade to keep food costs low, or, or, or...

this was super fucking weird, because there was no reason for it, and how odd it felt due to the weirdly normal atmosphere up until the bullets began to fly. 

-----

Briefly woke up, glanced at a clock, got mad about the dream, fell asleep again, somehow ended up beating the shit out of the guy. I don’t... know how. I just knew that I wanted to just, beat the shit out of this dude for daring to cause so much distress and fear... and I did. Lucid dreaming or something.

Very satisfying, even if it meant less time to ready for work.

Super fucking weird though... thought about it for the last two days, trying to work out where it came from.

[angelstrenchcoat-67]

Scared, Winchester?

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: Swearing

Summary: After a series of misterious deaths happened at a Harry Potter Convention, Y/N and Sam take it upon themselves to stop whatever is causing it, along side a very reluctant Dean.

"What the hell?" Dean frowns as I hand him the bag with his new costum. 

"It was the last one they had" I bite my lip as Sam tries to hold back a laugh, pushing his fake glasses deeper into his nose. 

"And why do I have to use it?" Dean looks back at Sam who is already fully dressed in his costum. "Why does he get to be the main dude?"

"It was the only one big enough and even the pants are still a little short" Sam shows his uncovered ankle to Dean.

"Change" I look back at Dean, fixing the brown curly wig over my head. "We are already late"

Dean grunts as he stands up, picking the bag from the table before walking out to his room.

"You are evil" Sam shakes his head, knowing that there were a lot more costums left.

"Like he's ever going to find out" I shrug, knowing Dean is never going to know I did this on purpose. "Besides, you are enjoying this too"

A few minutes pass until we hear Dean's shout through the bunker. "Do I really need to wear the wig?"

"Yes" I yell back before Sam can say anything. "Nobody is going to know who you are if you don't wear it"

"God, how I wish we had a camara right now" Sam tries to swallow down his chuckle as Dean comes back, wearing the black cloak over the grey woolen jumper with the Slytherin badge.

I bring my hand to my mouth, trying to cover the grin over my face as I watch Dean struggle with his platinum wig. "Need a hand?"

"Shut up" Dean mumbles as he grabs the car keys. "Let's get this over with"

-

No words in the world can explain the excitement Sam and I are feeling as we absorb everthing that's going on. There's a sorting hat event going on in the main room as well as a wand-picking gig at a near by tent.

"Dean, pleaseee" I make puppy eyes as we spot a Butterbeer stand. "I want"

"You already had two, Hermiannoying" Dean tries to glare at me but ends up sighing. "Fine, but this is the last one"

"Thanks" I stand up on my tip toes, giving Dean a slight kiss on the cheeks. "Besides we have to wait for Sam to come from his EMF round" 

We make line at the stand as a few girls walk pass us, obviously checking out Dean. I mean, he does make a really handsome Draco, even with the cheap wig.

"Who do you think Hermione should've ended with, Ron or Harry?" Dean asks as we wait. "I heard some girls talking about it"

"Ron, obviously" I answer as we take a few steps. "Everyone says she deserved to end up with the hero but I think what people are missing out is that in fact Hermione is also a hero and she doesn't need to date the main character to get the validation she deserves. She saves Harry's life more times that I can count and she is basically an orphan at some point so she get's Harry in that sense so they are each other's family, not love interests"

"You have a strong opinion" Dean raises his eyebrows when he notices how carried away I got. 

"I had a lot of free time when I was in middle school" I shrug as we finally reach the end of the line. "Three cups please" I ask the lady behind the counter as Dean hands her the money.

We wait for her to bring us our order as Dean plays with the hood of my cloak pushing it over my head. The lady finally comes back with our drinks so we thank her, making room for the people next in line.

"Hey, guys" Sam appears from behind us so I hand him his cup. "So check this out, all of our victims went to the same tour they offer here to see some restricted areas with cool stuff, like getting flying lessons, eating at the Great Hall"

"Yeah, so did every dumbledork here" Dean rolls his eyes so I shove him slightly because I also happen to be a dumbledork.

"They are called potterheads, and I thought it would be a good idea to check it out" Sam shifts slightly when Dean glares back at him "Okay maybe I just signed us up because I want to see those things, but still, it could be good for the case"

"Fine" I try to hold back my excitement when Dean finally agrees. "But I'm taking off this stupid cloak, it's really hot in here"

We walk towards the place Sam just came from as Dean makes a show of removing his cloak. There's a lady waiting for us at the entrance, holding three maps for us. 

"Hi, I'm Kelly and I'll be taking you on a very magical journey" She smiles brightly at us, almost too enthusiastic for me. "So let's see who do we have here with us today"

"Hermione, Harry" She looks between me and Sam and the moves to Dean. Her eyes frown a little before tilting her head to the side. "Ellen Degeneres?"

"What? No!" Dean immediately protests as Sam and I let out a very loud laugh. "I'm that spoiled dude, the one with the daddy issues"

"I was joking" Kelly places her hand over Dean's shoulder and I suddenly I don't like her that much. "Of course I know a Draco when I see one, mostly when they are as handsome as you"

"Okay, maybe we can start" I take a step in front of Dean, smiling forcefully at Kelly. "We don't want to make the next group late"

"Oh, sure" She blinks harshly, taking a step back. 

"Chill, Y/N" Dean puts both of his arms around my shoulders. "There's enough Draco to go around"

"Really cute of you to think that I was jealous" I take his arms off of me, even though I don't want to. "I just want to fly the brooms"

-

"Here we have a replica of the Hungarian Horntail that Harry had to face at the Triwizard Tournament" Kelly points at what seems like a real dragon, even though the sign in front of the metal cage says it's a robot.

"Can we touch it?" I ask, taking a step closer to the metal doors keeping us separated from the dragon.

"Sure" She smiles before pressing a button in the control center. The dragon moves forward, bowing his head for me to touch it.

I pace my hand over his forehead, feeling the scales under my finger tips. It almost feels too real, too warm for it to be just a mechanical dragon.

"Sam" I whisper only for him to hear as Kelly bats her lashes to Dean. "It looks so real"

"Yeah, isn't it so awesome?" Sam grins when the animal steps back to sit down, growling as he brings his tail around his body.

"No, Sam" I shake my head, looking at the yellow eyes in front of me. "It looks real. Almost too real"

"What are you talking about?" He frowns as I look to the next cage where there's a Norbit replica, spitting fire balls.

"Remember that case you and Dean had a few years ago, the dragons that were kidnapping those girls" Sam stares at me when he realizes where I'm going with this.

"You think that's what's happening here?" He frowns, looking for the journal in the pocket of his cloak. "There's not a pattern between the victims, I mean dragons are known for only choosing women. There were two men among the victims"

"Maybe they were dressed up as female character" I suggest, watching as Dean blushes at something Kelly said. If it wasn't because I'm focused on the mission, I'd be vomiting right now. "Think about it. People come willingly to meet 'robot' dragons, this is the best spot for the real ones to get their victims"

"But why haven't they attacked Kelly?" Sam asks, looking at the redhead as she shows Dean something on the map.

"She's handing them their prey on a silver platter, maybe not on purpose, but still" I look at the first dragon again as he stands up to spread his wings.

"I think we need to look around more. Let's not jump into conclusions" Sam speaks as Kelly and Dean move closer to us, ready to move along. "For all we know, these might just be really good robots"

"How about we go down the Great Hall?" Kelly asks with her chirpy voice which is starting to annoy me.

"Sure, lead the way" Sam starts walking next to her, leaving Dean and I behind.

"So, you and Sam, huh?" Dean swallows as the muscles around his jaw tighten.

"Ew, no" I frown, looking at Sam as he stares at a few brooms in a display window. "He's like my best friend"

"Auch" Dean looks ahead of us, not meeting my eyes.

"Oh, c'mon" I laugh as he pretends to dry a tear from his cheek. "You know with you it's different"

"Different how?" He finally looks down at me, biting his bottom lip.

"Well-"

"Hey, guys! Look at this" Sam calls out and right as he is about to show us something, he falls to the ground.

"What the hell?" I look up only to find Kelly holding a brick which I assume she used to hit Sam. "What are you doing?"

"I was getting bored, he talks a lot" She rolls her eyes as Dean bends down to check on Sam. "Besides, the magic is wearing off so it's time for the sacrifice"

"What are you talking about you crazy bitch?" Dean stands up after making sure Sam is okay. Unconscious but okay.

"The dragons. They are real" I tell Dean making Kelly laugh.

"No, stupid girl. They just seem real" She pulls out a metal cup, like the one Meg used. "I made a deal so I just sacrife a few of these stupid nerds and in return I get actual magic to attract more clients"

"Well, you chose the wrong stupid nerds to mess with" I launch at her but she just waves her hand, sending me across the room.

"Did I forgot to mention that I keep some mojo for myself?" She laughs, closing her hand, making my throat close as well.

Just when I feel like there's no air reaching my lungs, there's a loud bang that leaves my ear stinging.

I look up when Kelly's body falls to the floor, a pool of blood forming around her. Dean stands next to her, holding his gun. "Witch killing bullets. Figured they'd do the trick"

-

"I just got off the phone with Crowley" I walk into the living room as Sam holds an ice pack to his head while Dean gives him a few stitches since the brick caused his head to open a little. "He said that the demon behind that deal is already gone, he made sure of that"

"Crowley, helping so easily?" Dean takes a step back so Sam can stand up.

"He probably wants something in return" I shrug, grabbing a beer before sitting down.

"As much as I want to talk about Crowley, I think I'm going to bed" Sam leaves the ice pack on the table as Deans sits down next to me. "Good night"

"Night" I mumble as he kisses my hair and pats his brother on the shoulder.

Dean and I stay in silence for a couple of minutes, drinking our beer. Right as I'm about to say something, Dean beats me to it.

"So, I looked up that Draco kid" He scratches the back of his neck, almost as if he's nervous. "A lot of people seem to boat him with that Hermione chick"

"Boat?" I frown, not knowing what that's supposed to mean.

"You know, when you like two people together" He explains and I try my hardest not to snort.

"Ship?" I ask, raising my eyebrow as Dean's cheeks turn bright pink.

"Whatever" He mumbles, playing with the glass bottle to hide his embarrassment. "So, I was saying, if whay you wanted was for us to go as a couple, you should've just asked"

"No!" My cheeks are now the ones red and hot. "You wish, Winchester"

"C'mon, just admit it" He leans closer, running his tongue across his lip.

"There's nothing to admit, now if you excuse me" I try to stand up but Dean reacts faster, wrapping his hand around my arm.

He moves too fast so I'm not expecting him when his lips dive for mine, meeting in a warm kiss. His hands move to my face while I try to come to terms with what's happening. When I finally react, I move my hands to his hair as his lips move slowly but firmly against mine.

"I've been dying to do that" He mumbles against my lips as he rests his forehead against mine.

"What stopped you before?" I ask, moving my hands to his neck.

"I was- I-" Dean tries to speak but the words seem to be getting stuck.

"What?" I raise my eyebrow, giving him a quick kiss. "Scared, Winchester?"

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My first Dean x reader! Hope you guys like it :) I have a tag list for Matchmakers but if you want to be tagged in everything I write, let me know! I edited this while I was sleepy so I don’t know if there's some spelling mistakes 😂 I'll double check later.

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@fallenangelsneverfade