#minxie

This belongs to @the-amazing-digital-kingdom-au

Minx Backstory:

Minx is an imp who was born and raised in Wrath. He was abandoned near the dumpsters of one of few clubs in the arid, desert, wrath ring and was taken in by the club owner’s wife, whom he would refer to as his “tia”. She raised Minx in her home on the ranch she worked alongside her own two, older, children. Minx was loved by her just as dearly as she loved her own children, but as an unexpected and much younger addition to his familia, he was often on his own to play and to entertain himself and had a markedly different appearance and aura to him than the rest of his familia. Minx was rumored to be half succubus and indeed there were a few rumors amongst the adults on the ranch on who his mother might be, but she was long gone, having moved on if it was in fact her. He was often treated differently by his older adopted siblings and other children due to his rumored heritage, and got used to being left out or othered to a degree, even by some adults, though never his tia.

At around 5 years of age, he met a boy a year older than him who, for once in his life, did not treat him differently: Striker. Striker as a rumored hybrid, experienced a degree of social scrutiny himself, similarly to Minx, and the pair became fast friends, nearly inseparable from one another. Minx would follow Striker around into anything, like his own shadow. He’d get into any kind of trouble with the older boy, and Striker was happy to have his company and would boldly stand up for him in the face of older children who would bully or harass him.

As Minx began to grow, and his body began to change, both older children and sometimes even adults at his Tio’s club began to see him differently and treat him in a much more uncomfortable way for him, something Striker couldn’t always protect him from. Especially not when he’d be sent to said club for supervision by his tio when his tia was out of town for the day to gather supplies for the home or the ranch. His tio in all truth, barely paid him any mind in the pretty adult environment of the club, and he was mostly left to his own devices, learning things that were far beyond his pre-teen years, which also earned him different treatment from his older bullies.

As he entered his teen years, Striker’s family moved away from the ranch as it began to dry up, and Minx was inconsolable, having lost his only real friend and his crush. Minx took up at serving job at his Tio’s bar at 15, much to his tia’s dismay, and was an expert at earning massive tips, for Wrath anyway. At 17, he is reunited with Striker after four years apart who stops into the club after a long day of ranch work. He’s stunned at the changes in Minx, and a little concerned to see him working at the club he knows he hates. After a long conversation about the paths their lives are taking, the pair admit the long held feelings they have for each other, and begin a close, romantic, relationship founded on friendship and care. At this stage, this is the total opposite of what Minx is used to, as most who have ever shown interest in him, have only done so sexually, for his enthralling appearance and easily flirtatious energy. Striker as his childhood friend, confidant, and former protector knows him beyond what he is stigmatized as due to the rumors of his succubus blood, and it is a very welcome change. But such things aren’t built to last it seems, as the ranch Striker is working once again dries up, and he moves on from Wrath one day with barely a word, hoping to find a job that pays better—and lasts better—in the hopes of meeting Minx again in better standing, to be able to better provide for both of them.

This job, turns out to be assassin work, and when Minx gets wind of this, he goes into training to be an assassin too. His ranch work growing up has given him a level of resilience and determination beyond most, and his enthralling, succubus charms make him the perfect candidate as a honeypot. And so he is. He becomes a well known honeypot assassin in the Wrath Ring, and is often hired to take down rich, stupid marks who are easily drawn in by a pretty face and a cute body, and Minx becomes very good at playing the part of the “perfect guy” for his marks, researching them and their interests heavily before making the killing strike.

A few years into this, at a bar many assassins in Wrath frequent called The Saloon, he runs into Striker again. The meeting is a little heated at first. Minx feels frustrated with him and dejected by him for leaving him years ago without a word, but after an emotional confrontation, the pair make up, and couple together once more, and now as partners in crime too. Their assassin partnership is a big success for years. Minx as the beautiful and deadly honeypot, luring targets in for Striker to get a clean killing shot, and having a partner to be the one waiting in the wings to finish the jobs takes some of the heat of Minx. The arrangement makes the whole assassin business easier on both of them, and majority of their jobs end up as a team effort. They move in together. Their relationship is intense and fiery and built on something real for Minx for once, who is too used to people only wanting him for the physical, the superficial, nothing more. With Striker he feels loved for who he is. His clever wit, his ease with others, his fun energy, and his way of looking deeper at people. It’s perfect. It couldn’t get any better. The days are filled with killing rich pricks who deserve it for benefiting off the hard work of wrath imps like them, and falling heavy into each other’s arms once work is done, hardly able to keep away from one another. It truly is the perfect partnership. The perfect romance.

And then, three years into this perfect, torrid, romance, comes the incident. Striker and Minx are contracted to kill a rich mark, same as ever. Minx follows Striker to the location, but when they get there he’s stunned. Their mark is a child. Yes, a rich, privileged, child. But a child all the same. Minx refuses to go through with it. He will not kill a kid, he doesn’t care how “rich” they are. Striker, despite his refusal, takes the shot, ending the child’s life. The ride back to their place is tense and quiet, the air heavy between the pair. Minx is disgusted, disappointed, and upset. Once they get home, they fly into an argument about the job. Minx heatedly packs a bag to leave, needing space to process everything, still disgusted with Striker for going through with the hit. Striker is incensed. In a fit of rage he decides he is going to teach Minx a lesson about the world they live in and the job they do. He seizes Minx by his right horn and drags him to the kitchen counter, hammer in hand, he pins him there roughly with his knee pressed firm to him, hard enough it hurts his ribs. Minx is shocked and afraid. He begs and pleads to be let go, entreats him not to hurt him, cries for him that he loves him, but Striker, only seeing red in the moment, carries out his punishment exactly as planned. He brings the hammer down crudely on his horn with intense force, until it shatters and breaks, leaving it a bloody nub.

Striker, who has never touched Minx in anger, is stunned he let his rage take him that far. But once the act is done it can’t be taken back. He looks on in horror as Minx just screams. Blood and tears running down his face. He snatches up his bag in fury and agony at the slight carried out against him by this man he loved more than anyone else, and he leaves. He refuses to hear any apology or to ever stay with anyone who would put their hands on him in anger.

[ID in alt text]

🕯️Happy Holidays to those who celebrate it, may it be warm and light, and full of love and comfort 🕯️

Woo hoo! Part 2 of this odd lil' gain of miscreants! I have no idea if this story is any good, but I'm having fun, so hopefully someone else is also having fun reading it, lol. ‼️CW: Mentions of Death, Nudity, Needles, and swearing‼️ ⚠️ Minors Do Not Interact ⚠️ ~ Minx stumbled backward, dropping the needle in their hand, the glass shattering on the ground.

”...fucking, hate that part.“ The woman croaked, voice dry from disuse. She raised her arms above her head to stretch as if she'd been napping. Instead of having literally awoken from the dead.

Minx stared with their mouth agape. This had to be some joke, some bullshit hazing ritual for the new person. 

They'd opened their mouth to say something when they heard someone clumsily stomp down the stairs, cursing as they tripped on the last step.

A blur of a person ran past the open door before backtracking.

”Jane!?” The man shouted, sounding a bit out of breath, as they bustled into the room, shoving past Minx. The man looked out of place. Something straight out of an old noir film dressed in a tan trench coat two sizes too big for him.

“Took you long enough to come get me, Robyn.” The woman, Jane, pouted with her arms crossed over her chest.

“If you'd stuck to the plan, I wouldn't have to come get you.” Robyn hissed through gritted teeth. "Well if you'd done a better job of keeping track of my body we wouldn't be in this mess." Jane stuck her tongue out at him.

The man floundered at a loss for words.

For a moment, Minx thought he'd found them, with a sharp gasp, but instead his expression crumpled as he turned to the side.

“HhHUh’dssSSCCHhhuhw!”

Instead, he sneezed, a harsh sound that was thick and syrupy, drawn out like the slow pour of molasses.

“I suppose I can forgive you since you seem to have caught yet another cold, dear. You really should take better care of your head.” Jane teased.

“It’s just the change in weather.” Robyn snapped as Jane rolled her eyes, sitting a bit more. The thin cloth that had been covering her body fell to the floor, leaving her nude.

Minx’s face flamed as they turned their gaze away.

Robyn also brought his hand up to shield his gaze; their cheeks also flushed a light shade of pink.

“Goodness, you're both so shy! It's like you've never seen a woman before.” Jane commented, batting her lashes at them.

Minx swore that Robyn's cheeks darkened a shade or two.

“God damn woman! Just cover up!” Robyn hissed.

“With what, Robyn? We're sitting in a morgue their isn't exactly an abundance of clothing.” Jane said, earning a sharp look.

Robyn glared at her for a moment before shrugging off his trench coat, thrusting it at her. Jane rolled her eyes, but too it shrugging it on. If it was big on Robyn, Jane was drowning in it, the sleeves going way past her hands.

“I look ridiculous.” She huffed, rolling up the sleeves in an attempt to gain access to her hands.

“You look fine, now. Can we please get out of here? This place gives me the creeps.” Robyn said, as a chill slithered down his spine.

“Shouldn't we do something about the witness?” Jane asked, standing up so that she could use the belt to cinch the coat around her waist.

“What witne-” Robyn glanced around the room, flinching with his hand braced against his chest when he saw Minx.

Minx waved lamely, surprised that the man hadn't noticed them, considering they'd almost knocked in over earlier.

THE LEGEND OF VOX MACHINA | Keyleth's Minxie Design