#the only cost is your sanity folks

[halsinshoney]

its ok butcher jeffery dean morgan lives rent free in my head too

[op-sys-chaos]

Fic: The Pit Made Me Do It (And I'm So Sorry)

I made the thing!

For those who missed it, I came up with an idea for a fic where basically if Jason wants to get rid of the Pit side effects he has to kill Tim Drake.

Tag list, here's your tags:

@brucewaynehater101, @royal-illusion-loves-his-fandoms, @fantasy-krystalkc, @twinningglass, @emotionallyunstablegoblin 

Tag list folks, lmk if you want me to tag you for updates, and other people, lmk if you wanna be tagged for updates too!

Shoutout to my amazing beta reader, @batfambrainrotbeloved!!

Without further ado, here's the fic!

Title: The Pit Made Me Do It (And I'm So Sorry)

Chapters: 1/12

Chapter title: Chapter 1: Ask Your Doctor About Pit Rage Now! Side Effects May Include Plans to Kill Your New Brother

Fic plot summary:

Would you sacrifice someone’s life for the sake of your own sanity? What if it wasn’t your choice?

Recovering from the Madness induced by the Pit now giving way to the second stage of revival. Pit Rage. A primal state numb to the world and driven only by the desire of one goal.

Said goal once complete, would give Jason his emotions, his sanity, his life back.

It should be easy, at least it would be if his goal was anything else. But the Pits cost is steep, and so is the burden of a mind set on watching the light drain from the eyes of Timothy Drake.

(thank you Sunny for writing that summary!!)

It's my first fic so please give me any and all feedback and let me know what you think!

There won't be consitent updates, unfortunately, bc my life is a mess, but I'll try to update soon!

[amaliazeichnerin]

Some thoughts about the attachment to a fandom

Content Warning: This blog talks about the fandoms about works of Neil Gaiman and J K Rowling.

With regards to the Neil Gaiman allegations, I have read over here on Reddit how some fans are so attached to the show Good Omens they prioritize it over Gaiman’s victims. As in, they desperately want season 3 to happen, at any cost.

And this got me thinking. A fandom object can do a lot for people: Help them through a difficult time in their life, provide them with some comfort in desperate times. I’ve been there myself.

But ultimately, this can get unhealthy. After all, please remember: it’s fiction. All the characters are fictional. The victims of Gaiman are real people. The fandom object is entertainment. It’s escapism.

And it is not there to solve the problems of your everyday life.

In some spiritual communities, there is the phenomenon of „spiritual bypassing“. This means among other things that you try to avoid your everyday problems, trouble, conflicts etc. by escaping into spiritual practices and ideas. And as you can guess, this doesn’t help in the long run.

And the escapism into fantasy worlds and other stories is basically very similar to this phenomenon. Yes, fandoms objects can offer you moments of peace, of excitement, of joy. But if your happiness or even your sanity depends solely on a piece of fiction, better try and find something – or someone – else. Do not only rely on a movie, a franchise, a show, a book series, a game or other forms of entertainment to get you through life.

Because if these products of fiction suddenly get spoiled for instance by allegations like the ones against Neil Gaiman, or the horrible behaviour of J K Rowling or (insert other problematic artists here) … you might become desperate beyond measure.

So here are some suggestions to avoid this.

Find some other sources of comfort. Here are some examples:

A hobby of any kind which doesn’t depend on a fandom.

If you can, try sports or fitness, for instance Yoga, jogging, swimming or maybe a team sport.

Take walks around your neighbourhood.

If it’s possible for you, get yourself some house plants or a pet to take care of daily.

Try to find friends or acquaintances who are not in a fandom (or are just casual fans).

If you like it and it is possible for you, engage with a local community or a community based on a shared interest, for instance for queer folks.

If you like being online, find like-minded people in online spaces which are not related to a fandom.

If you feel like you cannot or won’t let go of the fandom …

Whatever you do, do not get a fandom tattoo. You might deeply regret this.

Instead of buying official merch, buy fanart by fan artists. Instead of buying new books, DVDs etc, buy the material second-hand. Thus, you do not give the creators more money.

If you like fanfiction, read it or write it, or both. If you write fanfiction, you could even write about the topics that have arisen around a problematic artist. For instance Harry Potter fanfiction with positively and authentically represented trans characters or Good Omens fanfiction that discusses SA or consent (No kidding, I have written a headcanon about this, here).

Talk about the allegations against the creators, their behaviour and that you do not support them. Keep that conversation going.

In case of Rowling, many fans of the Wizarding World, Harry Potter etc. openly show their support for trans people for instance with trans pride pins or buttons, shirts or other items. With this, they express that they do not support the anti-trans attitude and ideas of Rowling. If you have any additional ideas, feel free to reblog this and add yours.

[corrieaspen]

On the Edge & In the Margins

In July, I'll be moving back to California. Housing costs are at a point where many places in the nation, especially California, are simply inaccessible for a vast majority of single income folks. When searching for housing, this leaves single income folks on the edge of sanity, the brink of exhaustion, and at an increased risk of becoming unhoused. Let's crunch some numbers and illustrate this on a personal level.

Where I'll be moving, the average cost to rent a home that is placed close to my job in an area of town that is quiet and mellow costs roughly $2300, not including utilities. Let's say that rent and utilities combined total to be roughly $2500/month. At this rate, $10,000 covers only 4 months. This also means that I would be spending $30,000 on housing costs per year. Is that building equity? No. Is that enabling me to save up for my dream of owning a small piece of land someday and having a modest yet spacious home built on the land? No. In only 3 years, I would spend $90,000 on rental housing costs. Yikes.

Many landlords are also requiring that applicants make roughly 3 times the amount of rent per month. This would need to be $6900/month, or $82,800/year. I have a vanilla/white market job in addition to sex work, but if most of your work is black market work that does not come with a legit paystub from a company or organization, how are you supposed to prove that you make that amount? You can't. Sex workers are highly marginalized since many are unable to produce pay stubs from their black market work. Privileged workers who have knowledge and experience in business and ways to work around this conundrum have an advantage here, but information on how to do this is not widespread and can be difficult to find. Tax returns are sometimes not an accepted proof of income, which poses an even greater issue for workers who file taxes, but whose primary income source is sex work.

Just thinking about the housing market leaves me overwhelmed, exhausted, and stressed. Every day I meditate and pray to find housing that will not leave me frayed and fried at the end of each month. However you pray, commune with spirit, or hope for good things, put in some thought in my direction please. You will be forever appreciated.

[iconluggage]

Why ICON makes the best bags for people who are always travelling?

Introduction: Welcome, fellow jet-setters, to the ultimate crash course in mastering business travel with ICON's versatile cabin suitcase. Say goodbye to the days of lugging around bulky luggage and hello to seamless, stylish travels that scream elegance. Let's dive into our top-notch packing tips that will have you strutting through airports like a seasoned pro.

Size Does Matter (But Not How You Think): Are you someone who always travel for work and has no time to go through check in process? ICON’s cabin suitcase will always be there to save your time and money, with its 20-inch frame, is the perfect size to glide effortlessly through those pesky TSA lines and fit snugly into overhead compartments. No more waiting for checked bags or worrying about lost luggage. Save your time, save your sanity, save your extra baggage cost and opt for the cabin-sized champ that’s designed for the people who are always on the go.

Organization is Key (But Not Just for Your Inbox): We're all about that - Travel like a boss, but let's extend that organization prowess to our packing game, shall we? Invest in packing cubes and ICON’s organisers to keep your essentials neatly separated and avoid the dreaded sock-and-underwear explosion upon arrival. With ICON's spacious interior and OEKO-TEX Certified Material, you'll have room to spare for all your favorite attire.

Tech Savvy or Tech Slacker? You Decide: Embrace your inner techie (or at least pretend to) by investing in a cabin bag that is not only functionable but super fashionable. If you are someone who is constantly charging their phone can have ICON's Signature Plus cabin suitcase or Vintage Cabin Suitcase which boasts a USB slot for easy charging on the go, because who has time to search for elusive airport outlets? Stay connected, stay charged, and stay ahead of the game. With the ICON’s cabin suitcase not only they have so many functions but you can rock your fashion aesthetics as well.

Dress to Impress (Even at 30,000 Feet): They say dress for the job you want, but we say dress for the upgrade you deserve. Pair ICON’s briefcase, handbags and tote bags with your ultimate fashion styles, we bet that you will rock in your meetings or can surely manage to get asked by your co - passengers “Wow you look amazing with that bag, where did you buy it from?”

Snack Attack: Fuel Your Hustle: Let's be real – airline food is about as inspiring as a Monday morning meeting. Pack your own snacks to keep hunger at bay and your energy levels soaring. From protein bars to trail mix, your ICON backpacks, handbags and tote bags have room for all your last moment snacks or meals from your loved ones. Eat it anywhere so you can stay fueled and focused throughout your journey. Just pair it with your cabin suitcase and be ready for the head turns.

Savvy Souvenirs: Shop Smart, Pack Smarter: For the backpackers, those novelty shot glasses and tacky t-shirts might seem like a good idea at the time, but do you really need another dust collector? Exercise restraint when it comes to souvenirs, and opt for meaningful mementos, your ICON overnighter backpack will thank you for the extra space. Surely one of the best backpacks for solo backpacking trips.

Conclusion: And there you have it, folks – whether you are travelling for work or going on solo backpacking trips With these savvy packing tips in your arsenal, you'll be jet-setting like a pro in no time. ICON will always be your companion in making your journeys successful.

To Know More: https://icon.in/blogs/news/why-icon-makes-the-best-bags-for-people-who-are-always-travelling

[musicinsurancecompany]

Value of Woodwinds Insurance in the World of Music

Woodwind instruments, with their diverse range and tones, play an integral role in the rich fabric of the music industry. From orchestras to jazz ensembles and marching bands to solo performances, these instruments contribute a unique timbre and versatility that enrich musical compositions across genres.

However, their intricate craftsmanship, susceptibility to damage, and considerable value make insuring woodwind instruments a prudent choice for musicians and enthusiasts alike.

The family of woodwind instruments encompasses a wide array of instruments. Each comes with its distinctive characteristics and playing techniques. Flutes, clarinets, oboes, bassoons, saxophones, and more create a myriad sonic palette that resonates across classical, jazz, folk, and contemporary music styles. Their unique tonal qualities and expressive capabilities make them indispensable in orchestral settings, chamber music, and as solo instruments.

Insuring your gear is important

Despite their artistic value, woodwind instruments can be quite delicate and vulnerable to damage. The intricate keywork, wooden bodies, and delicate mechanisms are susceptible to wear and tear, temperature changes, humidity fluctuations, and accidental damage.

The cost of repair or replacement of these instruments, especially high-quality or vintage ones, can be substantial. Therefore, dedicated woodwinds insurance becomes crucial for musicians and collectors seeking to protect their valuable investments.

Be Informed When Buying an Insurance Plan for Your Gear

When considering insurance for woodwind instruments, several key factors should be taken into account. The instrument's value, rarity, age, and condition are primary considerations. High-quality professional instruments, rare vintage pieces, or custom-made models often command a significant monetary value. Insuring such instruments ensures that musicians are financially protected against potential losses due to theft, accidental damage, or loss. It could give you the ultimate peace of mind for sure. Financial sanity is a much-needed thing, after all.

Insurance policies tailored for musical instruments typically offer coverage against a range of scenarios. Theft, loss, and damage caused by mishandling, fire, flooding, or natural disasters are among the common risks covered. Additionally, coverage for instrument accessories, cases, and liability protection for damages caused to third parties can be included in comprehensive insurance plans.

When seeking a woodwinds insurance plan, it is essential to provide detailed information about the instrument, including its make, model, serial number, purchase price, and appraisal value, if available. Some insurance providers might require regular appraisals to determine the instrument's current value accurately.

Furthermore, musicians should carefully review insurance policies to understand coverage limits, deductibles, and any exclusions that might apply. It's advisable to select a policy that aligns with individual needs and offers adequate protection without overextending financially.

For professional musicians, orchestras, or music institutions, insuring woodwind instruments is not only about safeguarding against financial losses but also ensuring continuity in performances and musical engagements. An unexpected loss or damage to a crucial instrument could disrupt rehearsals, concerts, or recording sessions, impacting careers and artistic commitments. Insurance provides peace of mind, allowing musicians to focus on their craft without worrying about the potential risks associated with instrument ownership.

Moreover, collectors and enthusiasts who value woodwind instruments for their historical significance or rarity can benefit immensely from specialized insurance coverage. Vintage instruments or those with unique provenance can appreciate over time, making insurance an essential safeguard against any unforeseen circumstances that could diminish or compromise their worth.

Instrument insurance providers often offer flexible coverage options tailored to musicians' specific needs. Some policies might include worldwide coverage, allowing musicians to travel with their instruments without concerns about potential damages or theft during transit.

In conclusion, woodwind instruments hold immense value, both artistically and monetarily, in the music industry. Ensuring these instruments is a proactive and prudent approach for musicians, collectors, orchestras, and music institutions to protect their valuable assets against unforeseen risks and uncertainties. Beyond financial security, insurance provides the assurance and confidence needed for musicians to continue creating beautiful melodies and contributing their talents to the ever-evolving world of music.

[the-timeless-founder]

Modern Saeclus Sanguine

I talked about this with @secretarykang and like everything, I just HAD to do this. I might add the others, but we'll see how that goes.

Family:

Third son of a rich and successful family with two older brothers. He was and is somewhat spoiled but he is humbled by his mother's teachings and socializing with common folk.

He was sent to stay at a relative's state as a kid for a year and he returned a changed person and had a scar over his eye.

Arte and Clius made sure they paid for that.

His two brothers each have their own successful careers, Nocsis is the one who inherited their father's estate and banking company while Caranthus has his own construction business.

He keeps in touch with them and his in-laws whenever he can. Respects his in-laws so much and is always polite and sweet to them. Adores his brothers' children, and they also adore him back.

Giesbach was a business partner of his father's who ruined his fortune and ran away with whatever remained of it, leaving his two sons to pay it off behind.

And this left a bad taste in the three brothers' mouths so they paid off the debt, but Saeclus was the one who reached out and took those kids under his wing.

They live with him now. At first, he felt like he was in way over his head being a twenty-something year old single man taking care of two teenagers, but he got the hang of it.

Now they have their own little dynamic, and Saeclus feels like the father or older brother the two of them deserved. He personally looks after them, and tries to spend enough time with them.

He knows he can't make up for their dead mother and coward dad, but he does his best.

Personality:

He's that nice and smart rich boy who doesn't understand how the common sense of money works. If you tell him a dress can cost less than half a grand he's not gonna believe you.

He can manage a multi-million dollar brand but buy a normal perfume that doesn't cost half of people's salary? That's possible?? Disbelief...

Definitely an artistic kind of person, and has a habit of citing poetry and writing pieces in response to questions he wants to dodge.

Genuinely kind-hearted, loves physical touch as a form of affection, and is super polite to strangers and colleagues alike. Comfortable letting people be around him, warm and approachable, and super helpful if you ask nicely.

Don't get on his bad side though. He'll humiliate you without uttering a word of profanity. Somebody call 911 he just murdered someone's pride. He's got the snark, he just usually prefers to not use it.

He's also fiercely competitive when challenged despite his usually easy-going attitude. If you're coming at him, you'd better bring your A-game because he won't be backing down.

Raised to be and is a perfectionist to the core. And he holds himself to a higher standard than anyone else in his life.

Basically a less traumatized version of the usual Saeclus.

Career and Education:

CEO of the most popular sweets production company, he owns a famous chain of bakeries all around the world and has the highest standards ever. Though he didn't inherit that company, he was born into a high class and old money type family.

Sincerely wanted to major in arts, but his family (mostly his father) firmly objected to that. Through some fights with his father and some logical talks with his mother and oldest brother, he finally agreed to major in business.

Kinda salty about it but he doesn't complain because he's not bitchy like that.

He probably studied abroad in some lavish university where he shared a school with Karlheinz (and probably Devyn).

Two years older than Karlheinz (so three years older than Devyn), and he's the only junior he genuinely dislikes. Not only are they competitive as hell, they legit chip away at each other's sanity every time they speak.

Likes Devyn a lot though. He thinks she's someone who acts her class and age, and he admires that a lot.

[readermishok]

Top 20: my favorite interactive stories

Hello, guys!

Once I saw that one of my popular and mostly likeable posts was about IF, I decided to share with you my personal top of the best IF authors I have known. 

I read a lot of WIPs (work in progress) and finished novels since three long years, so I might recommend truly incredible stories. I apologies for adding pics and some additional info about my MC, but I wanted to bring spark of life into this top.

MC – Julia (deShanre), she|her.

I'll start with telling about quartet of works greatly affected on me. It was almost like… living my second life. It felt so real, so vibrant. In the darkest times it gave me the strenght to meet the next day.

1. Samurai of Hyuga, Books 1-4 by Devon Connell (WIP, planned 7 books). Patreon. Buy Book 1.  Buy Book 2. Buy Book 3. Buy Book 4.

Samurai of Hyuga is a brutal, heart-pounding interactive tale. Prepare to enter the land of silk and steel, where fantasy clashes against grim reality, and where the good guys don't always win in the end. It's a harsh world with tough choices at every turn. Good thing you're the toughest ronin around.

My MC: Ronin, the master of the Jigoku Ittō-ryū, The Sword Who Cuts the Heavens

Jigoku:

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2. Fallen Hero by Malin Ryden (WIP, planned 4 books). Tumblr: @fallenhero-rebirth​. Patreon. Buy Book 1.

Become the greatest telepathic villain Los Diablos has ever known! Once you were famous; soon you will be infamous. That is, unless your old friends in the Rangers stop you first. Juggle different identities and preserve your secrets as you build new alliances and try to forget the friendships you've left behind.

My MC: Sidestep Puppetmaster:

Jane (puppet):

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3. I, the Forgotten one by Bacondoneright (WIP, planned dilogy). No tumblr or Patreon|Ko-fi. Demo.

It has been five long years since the end of The Border Wars. Five long years without a purpose. Endlessly drifting around from one job to the next, serving your apathetic father only to receive no credit. Nobody in Kanton truly knows what you did. How you won The War, leading the armies of Kanton as a youth.

Nobody knows what it took out of you. Spending your formative years in war is not good for one’s outlook on life. Your emotions now lie behind a mask of stoicism. After all, all emotions do is cloud one’s judgement and wind up costing lives.

Nobody knows how much it hurt to be cast down from the throne and succession. To be disinherited, cast away from the family, and left aside to die.

My MC: The Marshal, the bastard child:

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4. The Exile by Pheo (WIP). Tumblr: @exilethegame​. Patreon. Demo.

You’re the ex-commander of the Kingdom of Plaithus, and your name is known by all. It used to be whispered in fear by your enemies, and the very mention of it could send men fleeing. Your people had cried it out in battle, swords raised in your honor as they faced death fearlessly. You were a hero, and to some, a legend.

Until you weren’t.

You can’t remember what happened. All that’s left are blurry faces, screams, and the feeling of blood on your hands. The only reason you still have your head is because of the pity of an old friend.

And now? It’s only been a year since the incident, and already things are going wrong again when a rather peculiar sorcerer offers you absurd amounts of gold in exchange for protection from… well, that’s the problem, isn’t it? You don’t know.

My MC: the Commander:

Ex-commander.

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Shepherds of Haven by Lena Nguyen (WIP). Tumblr: @shepherds-of-haven​ Patreon. Demo.

Shepherds of Haven is a dark fantasy interactive fiction game. In it, you play as a Mage living in a world where magic is outlawed and your people—those possessing supernatural powers—are oppressed and reviled. The world is ruled by humans who believe in science, technology, and industry: at best, you and your kind are nothing more than a fairytale, and at worst you are the state’s greatest threat.

My MC: Human Mage, gunner

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God of the Red Mountain (WIP). Tumblr: @friendlybowlofsoup​​​ Demo.

You are a spirit born of the Red Mountain–though you’ve run away from it long ago. You’d be content to stay away, too, if not for the mountain god who suddenly comes looking for you. But what purpose do they have? And what exactly is your end goal?

Based on East Asian myths and folklore, you play as a powerful, nameless spirit in a shifting world. As a being caught between death and life, you are connected to a stream of limitless power, and the more you are known, the more powerful you become.

However, your journey will not be so smooth. You have been cursed by powerful, malignant beings known as Foxes, and it’s only a matter of time before you fall from sanity yourself.

My MC: Owl spirit, human appearance

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The Bastard of Camelot by Rebelgirl (WIP). Tumblr: @llamagirl28​ Demo. Ko-fi.

Your child will be the undoing of Camelot. Born under an ominous prophecy, you are the incestuous bastard of King Arthur and Morgana Le Fay. Will you fulfill the prophecy, or rebel?

Be the villain they expect you to be, or the hero they don’t- be remorseful or unapologetic, make your destiny or be Morgana’s tool of revenge.

Arthur can’t have any more children, making you the sole blood heir, and sole other Pendragon. As a Pendragon, you have the power of dragons.

The Bastard of Camelot is a trilogy following Mordred as they become a knight of the Round Table, and save or destroy Camelot.

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The Seven Heirs of Ophaesia: Part One by (WIP). Tumblr: @fantasyfawkes​​​ Demo. Patreon.

The Seven Heirs of Ophaesia is a low-fantasy game set in a Renaissance-esque world where you play as one of seven heirs to a fictional kingdom rife with intrigue. As the King’s seventh child, you are a prince or princess of Ophaesia, a luxurious nation along the southern coast of Selanes. You are the first child of your father’s third wife, a woman hated throughout the realm due to the pervasive suspicion that she poisoned the previous queen, and her poor reputation taints your image in the eyes of the court and beyond. From your days in the palace nursery all the way to adulthood, you must navigate treacherous court politics and delicate foreign affairs while trying to find your place in the world — and your family.

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 Attollo by A.E. Jendryke (WIP). Tumblr: @attollogame Demo. Patreon.

After several years of radio silence, you receive a message from your younger sibling that carries a strange sense of urgency to it. Either out of familial concern, or boredom, you embark on a journey from your residence to your siblings apartment in New Hampshire to see what’s wrong and then get on with your life. Too bad it’s never so simple.

Deal with cults, interdimensional entities, and far too many people with superpowers (where, for once, you’re the odd one out) in your journey to bring your sibling back from an underworld far out of your control.

My MC: lawyer

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 Land of the Dragon (WIP) by Hilsee Foo. Demo. Last update was long ago... (crying)

Welcome to the Land of the Dragon! Here you shall experience an adventure in an ancient land, navigate court politics, forge friendships, and maybe even pursue romance if you so choose!

The Dragon Emperor sits upon the throne, as he inherited it from his father before him. But all is not well in the realm. In the provinces, an Uprising is gaining both strength and popularity. At court, the Elder Prince plots in secret to usurp his brother's throne. And within the Emperor's harem, the Empress and Imperial Consort vie for power.

As the Emperor and Empress' only trueborn child, you are at the centre of this power struggle. When all hell breaks lose on your 21st nameday, what will you do to find your place in this world?

All this, and more... In the Land of the Dragon.

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The Northern Passage by Kit H.J. (WIP). Tumblr: @northern-passage​ Demo. 

The Northern Passage is a horror fantasy CYOA, where you play as a hunter sent up north to investigate a series of missing people along the border and in the port cities of the Blackwater.

Working with your handler, Lea, you will travel north and discover that things are far worse than you ever could have imagined, and that there is something powerful lurking out in the deep, dark sea…

My MC: Hunter

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 The Nameless by Parker Lyn (WIP). Tumblr: @parkerlyn​​ Demo. Ko-fi.

The Nameless is a low fantasy WIP that is character and romance driven, with your race (sheevra) loosely based on stories about the fey and other myths. Where deals are a weapon and a name is the most intimate secret someone can offer. You play as a sheevra investigating the city of Renescen after the complete disappearance of one of four sheevra Clans in the world, running across a ragtag group of both sheevra and mortalis along the way.

Will you find out what happened before it comes for you?

Mortalis appearance

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Virtue’s End by Crimsis (WIP). Tumblr: @virtuesend-if​​​ Demo. Patreon.

In a dark world overrun by monsters from the shadow plane, you exist as a hybrid monster hunter called a helvling, a human whose very soul has been Bound to one such entity. Travelling from warded settlement to warded settlement with your surly Keeper, Shea, you have the thankless task of defending the common folk against these horrors from Hel.

Usually, a fate such as yours is only reserved for the lowest of criminals, as penance for their loathsome deeds… You wouldn’t know if your fate has been deserved, however, since upon completion of your Binding seven years ago, all former memories of your human life have been lost.

You’ve been moulded into a weapon by the Virtuous Order, trained to be an unfeeling and ruthlessly efficient hunter… But is that who you are? Who are you, truly?

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A Tale of Crowns (WIP). Tumblr: @ataleofcrowns​​​​ Itch.

A Tale of Crowns is a high fantasy love story with Middle Eastern roots, both on pc as well as mobile! It’s entirely text-based, with choices throughout to shape both your main character’s personality and skills as well as influence their relationships with others. There are four love interests for you to choose from, both female as well as male, each with their own stories and secrets for you to uncover!

Crown of Arsur

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 Wayfarer (WIP). Tumblr: @idrellegames​ Demo. Patreon.

When your mercenary work backs you into a corner, you take the only option available and accept a contract: to travel to the city of Velantis and steal an ancient artifact said to be blessed by the gods. Simple, right?

But Velantis holds more than you bargained for. Gathering a ragtag party of malcontents and renegades from across the city, you must navigate enemy factions, meddling guilds, and escalating political tensions. Your choices will ultimately determine the city’s fate – and the fate of every person who lives there. 

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When Twilight Strikes by evertidings (WIP). Tumblr: @evertidings​ Demo. 

You are a bounty hunter. Responsible for taking in rogue supernaturals, you work for IAOS—the International Agency of Supernaturals—where, alongside your best friend and partner, you two have quickly become the best hunting duo of the branch. After a particular tricky hunt, you brief your boss, Caine Atheron, and come back to work the next day to find that he has mysteriously disappeared overnight, the company is now in the hands of his best friend, Sebastian Mai. And though no one else seems to question it, something tells you that there’s more to the story.

With bounty cases rising at an alarming rate and a second mystery unfolding, you and your ragtag team of allies set out to find the truth.

But as you go further and further, the secrets you uncover begin to make you question: who… or what exactly are you fighting for? 

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Passanger by Pime (WIP). Tumblr: @the-passenger-if Demo. Ko-fi.

Do you like monsters? Do you think they are the best part of their respective movies, books, and shows? Then The Passenger might be the game for you.

The Passenger is a choice script work in progress in which you are an eldritch abomination that’s about to be devoured by another unthinkable creature. Good news is you are pretty crafty and know how to jump dimensions to escape your ghastly fate; bad news is, you’re now stuck on Earth, trapped inside a dumb human larva.

As years go by, you realize the amount of energy you need to leave this horrible dimension behind is a lot more than you anticipated. Not to mention the creature that almost ate you all those years ago never really stopped looking for you. But there’s no way it’ll pinpoint your actual location… right?

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Scout: An Apocalypse Story by Anya (WIP). Tumblr: @anya-dev​ Itch.

It has been over a decade since a worldwide natural disaster obliterated the natural planet and decimated human civilization. There are small groups of humans still alive, fending for themselves, trying to create communities amongst the rubble.

You are a 24-year old scout living in a small community on the edge of the Orange Plains. You lost your mother and your sister before finding your way here. You are primarily an academic, and you put your skills to use on regular scouting missions. With your best friend and your scouting team leader in tow, your small group is a pillar of the Community.

On your first scouting mission of the hot season, you meet the leader of the People Across the Orange Plains. Will you break from the Community you have known your whole life? Ask a romantic partner to join you? Discover secrets that your own people have been hiding? Become a leader yourself?

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Body Count by Nell Bolton (WIP). Tumblr: @bodycountgame​ Demo. Ko-fi.

Your life isn’t going how you’d hoped. Despite having big plans when you graduated, you’re stuck in a dead end job and a crappy flat with zero romantic life to speak of. All until a friend convinces you to join the cast of a new reality TV show.

The premise is simple: 12 singles are sent to a villa on a tropical island and they live there together for a month. After 28 days, the couple who is voted by the other islanders as being most likely to withstand the test of time will win £500,000. In addition, the couple with the highest body count will win £500,000. Total prize pool? £1,000,000.

In this context, “body count” refers to how many people you’ve slept with… right? Well, that’s what you think when you sign your contract. Turns out, though, that not all of your fellow cast members will be using that definition to get to the prize.

Fall in love, win big money, solve some murders and try to stay.

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Project Hadea by nyehilism (WIP). Tumblr: @nyehilismwriting​​ Itch. Ko-fi.

You play as an OPERATIVE of Scytha Industries, a highly selective private security company. As their most elite Operative, you possess many skills and talents, not to mention top-of-the-line equipment - including your very own AI module, IVI.

This, of course, puts a price on your head. An AI module goes for billions on the black market; carrying one around in your skull is, perhaps, not the safest idea. Sure, you’re more than a match for anyone who might come after you - but no-one outside the high levels of Scytha knows about it, so you should be safe anyway, right?

Wrong.

Wrong, wrong, wrong.

I do want to thank all these tremendously talented authors for creating such complex and beautiful worlds. I love it with all my soul.

Thanks for reading, I hope you will find story for yourself. I’ll gradually extand this top! 

Stay tuned.

[woodswitchwriter]

Underpaid

If you’re going to get paid minimum wage, about the worst place on earth to work is a vampire bar. Ever since they came out of the coffin, vampire bars have been springing up faster than Starbucks. (And Starbucks had just announced that they were open late and proud to serve their undead patrons! TruBlood available in 6 varieties and 4 sizes!) It wasn’t quite so prevalent in the South, but it was about twice as dangerous because the Bible-thumpers were almost as likely to kill you as the vampires.

Humans—and women especially—who worked in vampire bars were liable to come out with scars, lacerations, and whole nights they can’t remember (or were glamoured to forget), and that’s among the ones who made it out at all. At least, that’s all Hunter Dixon had heard about since the new vampire bar opened in Shreveport.

“You know I heard that poor Maudette Pickens set one foot in that place and never came out again.”

“You don’t even have to talk to them, you know. They know from the moment they smell you whether you’re gonna make it out alive or not.”

“You can be sweet as pie and they’ll kill you for smiling.”

If there’s anything you can count on in a small southern town, it’s fear of anything different spreading quicker than crabs in a frat house. But perhaps this time they weren’t entirely wrong. Vampires did kill people, although not as often as they’d like to say, and people did come out of those places eat up with tooth marks and scratches and hickeys, but most of that was consensual--and enthusiastically so.

Still, for $7.25 an hour, it was an insanely poor choice of a job. You can push Big Macs at a McDonalds and not have to worry about hiding bite marks from your folks. But, Hunter didn’t have folks. They also didn’t have the open schedule for a full time day job. What they did have was tuition payments, and that’s how they wound up in Shreveport’s own Fangtasia for a job interview.

They realized their casually-formal outfit was a stupid choice when they had to share a red leather couch with two men clad in fish nets and latex who were damn close to needing a cigarette. They’d given up on politely not staring and were examining the tattoos of the one on top when they were approached by the prettiest woman they’d ever seen.

“Well, aren’t you...quaint.”

Hunter looked away from a poorly inked tribal tattoo and up a set of long slender legs to a woman with honey-blonde hair and a curt, disdainful expression.

Pretty much the only thing running around Hunter’s brain was no thoughts pretty lady but, thankfully, their mouth was less distracted. “Are you the manager?”

“Owner.” The blonde corrected, “Come with me.”

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

“It says here you have...oh! Less than no experience. How nice.” They’d moved into a small but plush office where the woman (who reluctantly introduced herself only as Pam) sat behind a large desk and scrutinized Hunter’s meager one-paged resume, leaving Hunter to twitch in the opposite seat. She looked up. “Why so unemployed?”

“School doesn’t leave a ton of time for work, but in a cruel twist of fate it does appear to cost money, so ... here I am. Desperate times and all that.” Hunter gave a smile that was weaker than their attempt at humor. Pam responded to neither. When she appeared to be waiting for something else to come out of Hunter’s mouth, Hunter offered up the first thing they thought of, “I’m also not that great with people.” 

Pam watched them for a single beat of silence. “Well I can’t imagine how you came to that conclusion.” She deadpanned, dropping the resume to the desk with an air of finality and standing.

“What are you doing, the interview just started.” Hunter said quickly. 

“You aren’t exactly dazzling me.” 

“Yeah I’m not good at that either, but listen—“ They stood and blocked the blonde’s path. Pam raised a single, manicured brow. “Listen, I’m a hard worker. And I’m desperate. And I know you’re understaffed, I only saw one waitress on the floor tonight.”

“You have no experience.” Pam weaved around them in one swift motion.

“And no scheduling conflicts!” Hunter said, following her. “I’ll start out full time. You can work me to death for all I care!”

“Careful what you wish for around here.” Pam said without looking back. “We already have a waitress, sorry. Thank you for your time.”

“That girl is glamoured within an inch of her sanity and you know it.” Pam stopped and turned so fast that Hunter nearly collided with her.

“That,” She emphasized carefully, “Is a bold and dangerous accusation.”

Hunter’s breath stuttered and a wave of fear ran down their spine. 

“Okay, fine, maybe she just works too hard.” They backpedaled in a lower voice. “My point is, I don’t really care. Either way, you could use me.”

Pam tilted her head, and with a small wet click, two long fangs hung between her plump lips.

“And is that,” A step closer. “An invitation?”

no thoughts pretty lady no thoughts pretty lady no thoughts pretty lady 

Hunter chewed on their bottom lip in the way they always did when they were determined to get something. They pulled their eyes away from the teeth and allowed themselves a small smile. “Hire me and we’ll talk.”

Pam watched their face carefully, as though searching for weaknesses in their resolve. Then, with another click, the fangs disappeared.

“I’ll think about it.” Hunter breathed in relief. “And then, I’ll talk to my partner about it. Then we might call you.”

“That’s all I’m asking.” Hunter said evenly.

“And you would start part time, like all the other employees.

They tongued the inside of their bottom teeth. “Fine.”

“And even then you’d have to learn fast. I don’t have time to lead you around on a leash. Not for work, anyway.” Pam allowed, with another characteristic once-over. “And whatever poor people-skills you’ve got, wrangle them. They’ll get you hurt around here.”

“I’ll show up, I’ll shut up, I’ll carry drinks, and I’ll leave.” Hunter said. 

Pam fingered a strand of her hair, deliberating, before saying, “We’ll be in touch.”

“I’ll be waiting.” Hunter contained their pleasure, but not all that well, as they saw the corners of Pam’s mouth twitch.

“Ditch the blouse, you look like a bank teller.”

Their brow furrowed as they looked down at their outfit. When they looked back up, Pam was nowhere to be found. 

Hunter allowed themselves a self-satisfied smile before they turned and made for the door.

It was barely more than two days later when they got the call.

[awriterpretendingtowrite]

TFATWS Spoilers

Don't keep reading if you haven't seen up to the latest ep of The Falcon and the Winter Soldier (Ep 5).

First, I love Sam and Bucky’s dynamic, and I used to not ship them at all.

However, this frickin show. Wow, where to start.

First, the queerbaiting in Ep 2 with the couples therapy was blinding.

Then, they just keep fighting like an old married couple. If we kept the same shots, the same music, same tones of voice, but changed one of them to be female, this would be a romance.

Now for Ep 5:

First off, I LOVED that Sam is finally taking on the Captain America mantle and proving that he doesn’t need the serum to do it!!! Even after Isaiah Bradley shared his horrifying experiences, after it looked like Sam was giving up, he still decided to pick up the shield and train!

Speaking of the training scene... let’s talk about the queerbaiting. Whether it was intentional or not, there was a TON of queerbaiting in this episode. Here’s what I saw, but feel free to add on:

1. The way they fight together in the beginning isn’t their best work, at least in my opinion, but it’s still amazing, and it at least shows that they trust each other with their lives. That scene was more focused on Walker, but there was still that element of partnership that we used to see with Bucky and Steve, who were/are also heavily queer-coded. When Bucky saved Sam from Walker’s killing blow, it solidified that these two men matter a lot to each other and that they are partners, even if they don’t want to admit it.

2. Speaking of, their bickering is hilarious, but also undeniably old married couple behavior. It can also be seen as the classic romantic trope of “fake-fighting because neither of you have processed your feelings yet and you don’t want to ruin your friendship.” Most importantly, in between that bickering, they have real conversations, and although they can be stubborn with each other, it shows us that again, they really care about each other and that they are partners in fighting for their cause.

3. Skip to Sam being home, calling in favors, etc, fixing up his family’s boat. “How do we get it off the truck?” Cut to Bucky casually showing off to all of Sam’s friends with his strength and fixing the gas leak. AKA the romantic trope of showing off in front of your romantic interest and their friends.

4. Speaking of Bucky fixing the gas leak, they were way closer than they needed to be at first, and Bucky grabbing Sam’s arm, and the return of their old married couple bickering. I can’t, please, my little queer heart can’t take another major company using us for money.

5. Bucky continually showing his strength to Sam and being super helpful (also, the jeans/t-shirt combo? Deadly to my little bi heart).

6. “Well, Nicole, what about Sarah and Bucky?” That’s a valid point, truly. What about them? Honestly, I was looking for any romance between them to make sure I wasn’t just blindly ignoring it because I want the gay romance to happen so badly, but I saw nothing except Bucky going, “hEy. I’m Bucky.” And then they made it worse by having Sam say, “But don’t flirt with my sister.” Yes, that is a big brother thing to do, but again, if either of them were female, that’s a Jealous Crush move! There’s no denying it! “Don’t flirt with them” *internally* because you should flirt with ME.

7. Skip to Sam fixing the boat and Bucky knowing that he’d be down their fixing it and just helping him. Who was the only person Bucky ever just helped and took orders from like that? Steve. That was it. Again, queer-coded. (And more old couple bickering)

And finally...

8. The training scene. Oh gosh, the training scene. Their flawless chemistry. The way they trade off the shield. The way they remember each other’s struggles and the way Bucky tries to understand Sam’s struggles, even though he’s from a completely different era.  The way they are vulnerable with each other. The way they look at each other my stars.

9. Sam asking Bucky if he still has his nightmares and Bucky, without hesitation, replying, “All the time.” It parallels the therapy that wasn’t doing Bucky any good at the beginning, but if you watch Bucky’s body language, the look in his eyes, it’s clear that Sam’s words help him more than anything else as so far. The way that Sam knows when to be tough with Bucky and when to be a caring friend who just listens. The way he looks at Bucky.

10. Bucky risking asking the Wakandans for another favor to replace Sam’s wings, because even though Sam walked away, Bucky knew that he would want them back eventually. He knows who Sam really, just like Sam really knows who Bucky is. He is so open with Sam, even more than he was with Steve. Again, the way he looks at Sam. Like he’s some sort of heaven-sent person, like Sam is his lifeline to his sanity. If Bucky were female, that would be immediately recognizable as a pining look. I have given my best friend that look and I was crushing on her, hard. That is not a look straight men give each other.

11. And at the end of their training, when they part ways, just as a little cherry on top, their “bro handshake” lasted wayyyy too long (and the way they look at each other... again). The awkward way they’re trying to put a label on their relationship and Sam automatically correcting partners to coworkers. That may seem like a straight guy thing to do, but as a queer woman, when I was first figuring out that I liked girls, and specifically my best friend at the time, I avoided and corrected, at all costs, any implications that she and I could possibly be involved, even in the sense that someone called us partners for something totally unrelated to romantic intentions.

12. Skip to Sarah and Sam talking and Sarah saying, “Who knew you were so sensitive?” Well, that’s a classic falling in love trope. “You’ve changed, for the better,” or pointing out something specific that has changed because of their partner, is so commonly said to people in romance stories, and if. Sam or Bucky. Were female. This. Would. Be. A. Romance.

My queer siblings, my rabid hellers, my tired LGBT folks who are desperate for scraps of representation--

Don’t settle for scraps, because if we settle for scraps, it’s all we’ll ever get. It was a start, sure, but we cannot continue to let big companies think it’s okay to queerbait us in increasingly obvious ways and make money off of us frantically grasping at straws. Look at Supernatural. They had a gay confession to draw the queers back in the for last two episodes, then never acknowledged it. In fact, they insulted us by killing any and all even slightly queer-coded characters.

It’s time to join together and let our voices be heard. Our sexualities, our gender identities, our struggles, will not be made into something that companies use to make money. If Marvel pulls the same BS that the C*W did, queerbaiting and then discarding, we need to let them know that that is no longer acceptable. It’s not okay; it never has been.

In the meantime, enjoy TFATWS, ship whoever you want, and be aware of what is happening and what Disney and Marvel are doing. 

We won’t stand this mistreatment any longer, and when it comes down to it, we will make our voices heard.

[mckitterick]

unhappy times

ironically, for someone so open about my mental health stuff, I don't post a lot of a personal nature, but I'm having a really bad time rn

(yeah, so's everybody, which is part of why I've not said much. unlike many, I still have my health, a job, and I'm safe and have food and a house etc)

on top of all the other #Apocalypse2020 nightmares, I've been living with my ex for more than a year after we broke up (we’re still best of friends, her job was eliminated due to cost-cutting, she has v little savings, etc). she's packing the last of her stuff rn, moving out on Election Day (!)

she has been my nesting partner for 15 years (give or take a few months here and there during what we called our Troubles). she’s been part of almost all I do. everything in my life is about to change

the house is simultaneously filling up with boxes, and emptying of all these things we've gathered over the past 15 years. some staying, some leaving.

every single thing related to her or us makes me cry. so many decisions I made to make a nice life with her now seem strange and alien - things, organization, all kinds of choices.

my executive function’s at an all-time low, though I still manage to teach engaging classes (or am just lucky to have a bunch of very engaged students), and even participated in a talk yesterday about the Gunn Center and science fiction for WVU’s Asimov Symposium

but that's about all I'm good for rn. haven’t done much astronomy (didn’t even pull out my telescope for the Halloween Blue / Hunter’s Moon), written practically no fiction, nor worked much on vehicles, nor done much fitness activity, nor...

know how one's mental health is usually improved by reaching out to friends? problem with that is reaching out takes way more spoons (or spell slots) and executive function than I could hope to have for a while now. so except for the folks who contact me when I have the oomph to respond, I've been awful at being a pen pal with a couple sweet people who’ve been sending me cards and texts, or even staying in touch with long-time friends going through their own traumas and important life moments

but I just got nuthin. which makes me feel even worse. rinse, lather, repeat. ugh

two more days.

only two more days, and then this stage of moving ends, this phase of my life ends, this change concludes. at the same time we learn if our country's future is leading to authoritarian dystopia or something more hopeful

if you've read this far, I'm not sure if I should say Thanks or Sorry 😂😭

just venting, because the emotion needs to go somewhere or I’ll crack open (per my “Hydraulic Theory of Psychology”), and I guess (since the fall of LiveJournal and such) Tumblr has sorta become my personal blog

thank you, friends. your being here has saved my sanity during this Hell Year. a new stage of life is about to begin for us all

[raguna-blade]

So i’ve had this floating in my head for a while and well...There’s going to be some obvious straightforward “That’s absolutely not what they intended, I can’t envision it as a thing cause I mean it’s that.”

But I wanna talk about the way the gacha mechanics reflect on the story of Arknights.

So here’s the thing. It’s all about trust. Literally it’s all about trust. One of the things that Arknights makes really clear in it’s story is that there is a very very real problem with people just taking things on faith and listening to each other. The big central conflict, as of now, with the issues between the infected and the non? All of it is based on a massive breach of trust because the infected to a man know that the uninfected are going to make their lives a living hell, even if they’re a model citizen. Hell even if they’re part of the big wig nobility upper class it’s basically a crapshoot if catching the in game plague is going to torpedo you to the depths of the pecking order and ruin your life or “merely” have you waste away from a degenerative disease that causes rocks to grow out of your skin, is horrifically painful, and can cause wild and terrifying super powers that can have you control temperatures wildly, suddenly start reading peoples minds, or create a horde of zombies (although admittedly these require training to use, let alone use in combat but it does seem true that the powers kinda work without it albeit probably much worse)

So trust is a big thing here obviously, and that leads me to the next point.

The Doctor is the sketchiest motherfucker I have ever seen in my life. They’re this mysterious person wrapped up in a coat that exposes exactly none of their body, they down sanity potions like water, they’re a super tactical genius the likes the world hasn’t seen, and also save for your scary Medicine Boss Lady and Their Adopted Kid (who runs your hospital knight order) nobody knows anything about them at all.

And the few people who DO know the doctor from the past seem keen to stay the hell away from him (excluding Boss Bunny, which actually considering what the Doctor was like right before their amnesia should PROBABLY be more concerning?)

And the last point before I start tying this all together, from all indications story wise? Any and all Operators that you choose to use are already there. They’re already working with or are a part of Rhodes Island proper. They’re in the background sure and they may not know the doctor personally but they are already there is the important thing.

Barring certain event characters tied to certain events they’re already part of Rhodes Island in some way.

Which leads me to my little gacha connection.

The Gacha here indicates a willingness to trust the Doctor (and perhaps if we’re gonna dive into this further, a broader connection and willingness to support RI’s cause, and an active display of trust because you know this dude is going to be sending you into a combat zone. In a story where people sometimes just hot die because sorry bro it’s a war story at least in part)

Now i’ll admit the specifics of the gacha don’t work for this perfectly because you’re calling back the same people sometimes which has weird implications (although I think you could chalk it up to doctor getting to better know people and how to pull the very best out of them if we wanna keep the story mechanic connection strong.) There’s only so much you can do with what is mechanically just rolling the dice a bunch...

Except...The Pity Mechanics have neat little implications too! There’s the Guaranteed 5/6 Star mechanic, as well as the guaranteed 6 star after I think it was 100 Rolls, as well as the Guaranteed Limited Character when you roll 300(???) times on their banner.

And Recruitment via the papers works here too.

One sec lemme order the thoughts a bit better

The Headhunting and Recruitment Rolls are, in universe terms, a character actively signing on to work with the Doctor Specifically, as well as signing on fully with Rhodes Islands objectives and ideals. It's not enough to have a business deal with them for treatment of you or your people. It's not enough to have a roof over your head. It's not enough to simply have another place to fight, or access to the person you want to fight.

You are trusting this mysterious no face no history manipulator to put you into combat situations with utter monsters and you're trusting them to either see you through it alive (which is a thing they're eeriely good at) or at least to have your death really tangibly mean something (also something in short supply on Terra). You're trusting this organization that simultaneously wants to heal the world of a horrifying disease, protect those who are infected, and also seemingly really make the world a better place (fat chance)

Not to mention the counseling the Doctor also seems to provide which you know...

That's absurd. It's insane.

And it's reflected in both Rarity Level, as well as the manner of recruitment.

Tag Recruitment pulls mostly from a pool of people already associated with Rhodes Island, with the vast majority being low level recruits. Basically all of 3* and below come from RI, and of 4* up only about half do.

That is to say, using the method that costs you the least amount of money and effort (Originium is, in universe, actually pretty valuable and useful if also you know the source of the plague) most of the people that you can actually recruit already sign on to RI's whole thing for one reason or another and everyone else is there for a variety of other reasons.

The people recruited are also generally unskilled, owing to largely being newbies or generally just not being super tough, but then this also plays into it.

RI is in general, or at least ideally anyway, a Hospital First and Military anything a distant second. Ideally, but it doesn't necessarily play out that way (or at least we as players don't get to see it, and there does seem to be a general work if you want treatment but the portrayal so far scales the work to what you can do. Kids gotta work too but for them it's like...Make some Origami, play and go to school and that's your work which could be sinister sure but seems mostly not)

But even accepting that conditions for infected are awful basically everywhere, leaving your home is a big ask, and fighting for people who may in fact end up fighting against your home is also a big ask. It's not something you're gonna see low level folks do by and by.

But the people recruitment DOES pick up who are those higher level folks? They're generally sent specifically to Rhodes Island if they didn't come specifically because they're some of the foremost scholars on the subject of Originium Infection and so on. A lot of them don't have a choice.

Understandably, no matter how skilled or powerful or conneted they are they're not gonna wanna work with you or put themselves in danger for no real reason

And then you have the cases of people who are or were leaders in their field, arguable or actual royalty, people who hold massive amounts of power who are just...Not going to trust like that. They're wise to the world, and they know what's up.

That they're also massively personally powerful is perhaps a side effect of being so high up in the ranks because when you have people who can and do hop out of planes for a snazzy entrance with no harm and at least 8 kinds of completely uninfected Juggernaut Nightmares not being absolutely shredded when you're the big leader of a place is a liability.

Which ok that tracks, but Headhunting? Headhunting is where you start finding people like Skadi who are just...Absolute freaks of nature being honest. You start seeing people who have even less reason to want to have anything to do with Rhode Islands, more guarded, more independent, less reason to be actively into RI despite being there (like Popukar who's a kid)

And then you have the limited pool characters like W and Nian who have ample reason to not want to deal with the Doctor or are just kinda bumming around and Could Help but don't want to (with secret implications to being basically a Kaiju)

And getting them is difficult and painful and nearly impossible because they don't WANT to interact with the Doctor or perhaps really want to put the effort in to do anything at all.

All of this I think is pretty sound so far. Generally speaking, higher ranked characters have less need or want to deal with the Doctor and the Larger Rhodes Island, in addition to be just being from other locations entirely.

What I think makes this more interesting though, and continues on the gacha story link is the pity mechanics.

So, going with the idea that recruitment is more or less deciding to interact with the weird person who tries to eat originium slugs(!?) it makes the decision of various high ranked operators deciding yeah you know what I'm going to go talk to this weirdo. A LOT of people seem to trust him and that's perhaps concerning, but also well...It's a lot of people. People I know (in all probability. Especially in the case of banner rolls where there's usually one or two people who know the high rank units), and even then there's some wild folks in there deciding to put their faith in them...And Heck I'm already here so why not.

And of course that feeds into the trust mechanics too mind you. The more a unit is used, the more the doctor is demonstrating their small extension of trust is proven a good decision. The Increasing potentials is understandable as the doctor coming to a greater understanding of the individual (indeed they're all tokens of trust in some way shape or form aren't they? Things that Mean something to the Operator, even if they're implied to be things that they hate to think about or be connected but still unfortunately mean something that they can't let go of). And or, for that matter, the Operator becoming more open around the Doctor. Becoming more willing to show their full strength, and honestly, playing on the trust angle, isn't it interesting that so many of the operators talents don't come into play until they've been upgraded once or even twice? But hey if we look at it through the lens of Do I trust this person, some of these talents suggest really impressive things which maybe you don't want this guy who you barely know but you're at least willing to work with to know just in case it doesn't work out. TO say nothing else of the fact that upgrades COST. It's a massive investment of money time and supplies to get an operator up there.

Which, to come back to gacha and the pity mechanics, for the two limited characters to call for (at maximum mind you. Luck as always is a factor but you know) truly EXCESSIVE amounts of rolls, and rolls that call for you burning a massive amount of supplies? It can read as, honestly, an attempt to reach out to this isolated person. Mind it's just an extension on the pity bit from before, but given the limited nature it could also be read as a “I am trying to get to know you please respond?”

And For Nian and W that may well mean something. It's a degree of effort that could read as interesting and or alarming given their respective personalities and histories.

But well..that's about as far as I can pull this I think. As always there's going to be an aspect of well “it's monetization don't think too hard about this it's for that cold hard cash” which is absolutely and unfortunately true. Still, I think it's interesting that it DOES line up as well as it does here. If it's intentional that's really cool actually but still.

[rukanrin]

You set my world on fire---Dante x Female Reader

So I’ve been listening to this song for over one year now,Rapture Rising by JT Music, about BIOSHOCK and i was thinking,if i could do the same thing as i did with Vergil,with the lyrics and setting,could i make this blow by adding a lot more drama?(i will replace it with another song because hell it does not fit the romantic theme) well I’m here to find out! make sure you survive folks and this is when Dante was still a dipshit teenager,about 16 or 19 we will see -Ruka T/W: slight mentions of murder and cannon gore ---------------------------------------------- I lose my breath whenever I see you You stole my heart, what is it that you do? you shuddered,you mother had always hated your father,but never had you thought she would make you stay in the underwater city people claimed to be ‘paradise’, yeah, a paradise for monsters and murderers, you were a teenager now, the only thing keeping your sanity was the broken teddy bear and building blocks,you did get an education,but you hadn’t had contact with anyone,or anything for that matter for a long time My life was grey 'til you added colors Like the moon needs the sun, we don't care about the others you were sitting beside a small hole in the bottom of the hall,placed to that the water did not overflow or get in,your father had been missing for so many years,so were your sisters,but ‘mother’ would still watch your every step,oh how you wished to just jump into that hole and swim up to the outside world,the world the others say is free of greed,pain,boredom.... You set my world on fire You're my heart's desire Suddenly the water in the gap moved,which caught your attention,nothing had moved underwater for so long,so what was the water doing now,was it just that below your tunnel another cracked and let out air? then you saw it, the beings that crawled into your nightmares, its long,slender fingers bent as it pulled itself into the tunnel,then it saw you I just wanna love you, just wanna hold you Just wanna be with you 'til we grow old You subconsciously moved back,giving it even more hints that you were a living being,and you were ‘kill-able’,it screeched and reached out to you,only to get pissed off when you turned on your heels and ran,the (favorite color) bow’s ends flapping off your (black/white) dress,you ran,and ran,and ran,but it wasn’t that stupid, and surely was not as slow as you Please tell me you'll stay or take me away I want you for myself every single day you ran into a dead end,turning around to find the monstrosity in the tunnel right in front of you,you were on the verge of tears,you didn’t want to die,you couldn’t die,no,not here,not till you see the world above,you were now on your knees and covering your eyes, expecting to either be met with the sickly warm blood coming out of you, or to be turned into one of the yellow-eyed dolls,no ther weren’t dolls,but they acted like ones... You set my world on fire You set my world on fire but instead of the two,you heard a loud thud,and a metal click,you looked up,your cheeks pink from your tears,that’s when you first laid eyes on him,your savior,and also your curse...Dante...younger son of Sparda...his icy blue eyes met yours,yours were filled with shock and hope,whilst his were filled with mischief and love, “take a picture,it’ll last longer” he commented,giving you a smug grin which left you flustered,in search of words I don't know what I'd do without you You make me smile, what is it that you do? “I-im sorry,my names (Y/N),(Y/N)(L/N)...” You introduced yourself,extending your hand for him to shake, “Dante,nice to meet you beautiful~“ he held your hand with is gloved one,giving you a kiss on your knuckles,he then pulled you in and draped a hand over your shoulder,kicking the anomaly out of the way as he lead you through the tunnels,back to that sick,dark,little playroom you spent most of your life in My life was grey 'til you added colors Like the moon needs the sun, we don't care about the others “That’s your stop I’m gue-” Dante stopped talking after seeing your upset face,you didn’t want to be here,you wanted to break all the windows,break free from this underwater prison,but it would cost you your life “Hey...are you alright?“ he questioned,holding both your hands , his voice was coated in worry,you had been walking for a few days in the tunnels,meeting many more creatures,dolls, and dead ends,you got to know him personally through those few days,he was a fun guy,and you fell for him,you fell into a dark ocean,with no oxygen,you snapped out of your thoughts,not noticing the tears swelling up in your (eye color) eyes,he looked at you with a serious and worried expression,still holding both of your hands as if to say ‘I’m not letting you go till you’re ok’ You set my world on fire You're my heart's desire You came closer as he let go of your hand,embracing one another as you silently cried “I-I don’t want you to leave,I don’t w-want to be here a-anymore!” you whispered,you truly didn’t want to leave his side,he lit a flame in your candle heart,made you feel loved...you wanted to return the favor, “sweet pea,I can’t really have you going on wild hunting rides with me,but i can stay for a few da-” you couldn’t help yourself and cut him off with a kiss,you were ashamed,that you couldn’t have waited a little longer to confess... I just wanna love you, just wanna hold you Just wanna be with you 'til we grow old Please tell me you'll stay or take me away I want you for myself every single day but he didn’t push you away,instead he pulled you even closer,returning the soft show of affection,sure he had flirted a lot,and had a playboy attitude,but he didn’t really have experience,but he knew,at that moment,that the feeling that kept him from leaving you behind isn’t just his conscience.A minute later you both pulled away,you looked away,a rose red blush appearing on your face,as he gave you a daredevil grin “oh (Nick name),if you wanted a kiss you could have asked” Dante teased,to which you responded with “so do you um...li-” you felt a finger on your lips,making you stop talking You set my world on fire You set my world on fire “love you?” the son of Sparda finished your question for you,”will this answer your question?“ He chuckled before giving you a peck on the nose,you took that as a yes and nodded,but there was a problem if you two were to be together,after all,this town is full of tunnels,killers,monsters,dolls...”dont worry your pretty head about how it will play out,I’ll keep you safe“ dante promised,pulling you closer to him,and the cursed playroom seemed to finally regain its childhood warmth and light I just want you, I just need you I don't know what it is you do I just want you, I just need you I don't know what it is you do....

[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!

[tohellandbackanthology]

holy crap we’re 51% funded: announcing the Community Book program!

Hi folks! The whole To Hell + Back team has been utterly blown away over the last couple of days by the response you guys have had to the launch of our Indiegogo campaign and the support you’ve shown our little (big) book--we’re 51% funded after less than 48 hours online, which is beyond our wildest dreams for a self-indulgent fan project we dreamed up in a backyard over some chocolate almonds!

(Not sure who we are or what this project is? Check out our Indiegogo page here!)

We are well aware that given current global events, many people are understandably concerned and/or uncertain about their personal finances, and may not have expendable income to contribute to our crowdfunding campaign while it’s running even if they very much want to own a print copy of To Hell + Back: A Destiel Anthology. With this in mind, we’ve had a handful of extremely thoughtful & generous members of our fandom approach us asking how they might be able to purchase additional copies of the print books through our fundraising campaign, and then have us gift them to fellow fans who are experiencing financial hardship. Amazing, right? We certainly thought so. 

After much careful thought and discussion between ourselves about how best to make this happen while remaining totally committed to both fairness and transparency, we’ve worked a little behind-the-scenes magic and would like to present to you the To Hell + Back Community Book Program (or CBP for short)!

Community Book Program? “What is that?” you ask

Essentially, the Community Book Program has been set up as a special set of perks and add-ons right on our Indiegogo page that will allow people to not only buy Community Books to gift to other cash-strapped fans (that they may not necessarily know personally), but to pay for shipping to them as well by choosing a Community Ship add-on that allows the buyer to select whether that book goes to someone in Canada, in the United States, or somewhere else around the world. The Community Books perks and add-ons will be available for purchase until end-of-day Wednesday May 6th, 2020.

For buyers and donators, there are two different ways to provide Community Books:

Number 1: To access the Community Books perks directly, please go here, select either the one or two book option with the gorgeous black-and-white promo art by @kayrosebee​, click “get this perk”, and proceed to checkout! Once you’ve clicked “continue to payment”, you will then be asked to agree to the Terms of Use, and click “continue to payment” again. The next page that loads is where you can choose add-ons. If you scroll down below the pink Checkout button, you will see a section entitled “Perks you may also like”, and you can select “add perk” for your choice of Canadian, US, or International Community shipping for the books you are donating. Please ensure that you are purchasing adequate shipping for your selected number of books! 

Additionally, please note that in order to check out with option 1, you will be asked to put in your mailing address--don’t worry, we will know to disregard these ones for Community Books when it comes time to ship, and we will be creating unique shipping labels specifically for the lucky recipients. They will not ever see any of your information. Your privacy is paramount to us.

At this add-on stage, you may notice that you have the option to purchase either one or two more additional Community Books, as well as shipping for them. You can purchase up to 4 Community Books total this way, as otherwise Indiegogo will not allow you to check out with multiple regular perks at one time. If you would like to purchase more than 4 CBP books at a time, please contact the mod team directly so that we can assist you with this.

Number 2: If you would like to purchase a perk for yourself but also donate books to the CBP within a single transaction, please go to our Indiegogo page, select the perk you want for yourself, click “continue to payment”, and then follow the instructions above to get to the add-on screen! From there, you will be able to add on either one or two Community books and the corresponding Community Ship option of your choice. Again, please ensure that you are purchasing adequate shipping for your selected number of books! 

If you are one of said cash-strapped fans who would like a chance to get a print copy of the To Hell + Back anthology that you wouldn’t otherwise be able to, we strongly encourage you to enter the Community Book draws (US residents link) (Canadian residents link) (International residents link) before Wednesday May 6th 2020! 

Limit of one entry per person please--multiple entries for the same person will be deleted! We will randomly draw names and announce winners on Saturday May 9th, 2020. The number of names selected from each of the 3 draws will be based on the number of Community Books that have been purchased for each of the 3 shipping destinations by the May 6th deadline. If you are the lucky winner of a Community book, we will contact you via email to obtain your shipping information...yay!

Finally, please look below to read a little FAQ we’ve put together that we hope will help answer some of the most common questions we think we will get about the CBP!

Community Book program FAQ: 

Q: Why are the Community Ship options listed as costing $1.00? 

A: For a few reasons--first, because Indiegogo will not allow us to create a perk that costs zero dollars. If we could have, we would have! 

Secondly, we wanted to find a way to make sure the considerable costs of shipping would be covered for Community Books in a manner that would a) not artificially inflate our fundraising total, as shipping costs are calculated separately, and b) not require the person donating to know the name or the address of the person the book will be going to, since they won’t have that information at the time of purchase. The shipping price of the $1.00 perk will be included at checkout.

Q: What if I want to donate a book directly to someone I know and not have them participate in the draw?

A: That is incredibly sweet of you! We recommend that you either:

1. Do a separate transaction: purchase a perk and put in your friend’s address 2. Purchase a perk that includes multiple books, or 3. Purchase a single-book perk for yourself and make use of the “one extra print book” add-on before you complete your purchase. 

Please note that if you choose option 2 or 3, please be aware that all books included in your order will be shipped to your address, and that you will be responsible for any additional shipping costs required to get your donated book to its final destination.

Q: Why can’t I just order a book for my friend and make special arrangements with you guys to ship it to them? 

A: Listen, we totally get how that seems like it would be a simple thing from the outside, but if this anthology project reaches its fundraising goal, we are already about talking 500+ physical books plus merch that our team (who also have full-time jobs! School! Other hobbies! One very cute kid!) will have to sort, pack, label, and ship come October 2020 (fingers crossed!). 

In the best interest of getting our supporters their products in a relatively timely fashion, of our vital need for administrative organization, and of our general sanity, it is very important to us to be able to streamline that process as much as we possibly can. It is our sincere hope that the fewer exceptions we have to handle, the fewer mistakes we will make...and we just want everyone to be happy!

Q: What if I’m looking to donate something in an arrangement/quantity that isn’t covered here? 

A: Please contact us directly to pitch your idea or concern! We are happy to chat, and the worst we will say is, “sorry, no, we can’t do that!” (And then probably say “sorry” three or four more times...have we mentioned that 6 of 8 of us are Canadian?)

Q: What if your anthology doesn’t meet its fundraising goals? Do the CBP draw winners still get books?

A: If To Hell + Back: A Destiel Anthology does not meet its fundraising goals, all money given to the campaign gets refunded directly back to our wonderful supporters, and the print books do not get printed. This means that if that is what happens, then no, unfortunately the draw winners will not receive print books. Nobody will, and we will be sad. That being said, at the time of writing we are already halfway funded! We are very hopeful that our crazy dream of a print anthology will become a reality!

Q: Can I purchase a Community Book without also purchasing Community Shipping?

A: Technically you can, yes. We’d like to strongly encourage you not to do that, and ask you to consider that we want to put these books directly in the hands of as many Dean/Cas fans as possible. Paying for shipping in tandem with the Community Books ensures that we can make that happen, and that more of whatever money is left over after all of the books have shipped and the project’s expenses have been paid can go directly to our charity of choice: WISH Vancouver. If any Community Books end up orphaned (ie, are purchased without shipping), they will likely become part of a giveaway that happens after the fundraiser has closed for good. 

This FAQ may be added to as more questions arise, but in the meantime, your trusty mod @justholdingstill​ has thrown down the gauntlet by purchasing the very first Community Book with International shipping...woo!

[firespirited]

Your post about America being a dictatorship is so fucking stupid. What a moronic privileged fucking stupid bitch you. You know what its actually like to kive in a dictatorship? You cant simply freely vote the dictator out. Trump was a shitstain on humanity, but he was not a dictator. He was absolutely USELESS and yet people still voted for him. He’s probably the President americans actually deserve, but the rest of the world doesnt deserve that pain. America helped install dictators that DESTROYED other countries and cost millions their kivelihoods or lives. And you? Some retard bitch call the USA a dictatorship so you can wank off about America toppling a dictatorship? Fucking bitch, i should curb stomp your dumb ass.

Hi, you are person n°256 to comment on the colourful use of “dictator” instead of foiled dictator, dictator in progress or dictator wannabe in a post I made for my 30 odd american mutuals who have risked their health this year caring for others, fighting to survive and then carefully finding ways to vote. People who I respect very much.

To you and the others who object to the semantics: PLEASE DON’T JINX THIS. The only reason the man didn’t win his vanity election is because the plan to sabotage the mail was discovered and stopped. Until January he holds the supreme court, many lower courts; loyal senators, congressmen and governors; police unions, ICE, Eric Prince’s private militia, heavily armed far right militias and he could always make a deal with some generals or foreign powers. Dictatorship is at his fingertips if he weren’t a minimal effort guy surrounded by not very smart folks.

Next time you send an angry ask and want to keep the upper hand, don’t show your true colours with references like curb stomp, you either got that from chan culture or the ones who only like that one scene from American History X.

Please learn to block people who make you mad and dismiss annoying posts. we’re all holding on to our sanity by a thread these days.

~ Saf