#and all the comments were treating the staff member like they were evil

[djungleskogs]

you can’t advocate for putting “more humans” back on checkouts and then get unreasonably mad about those humans making mistakes every so often. i promise no cashier is intentionally overcharging you. we don’t get paid any extra. sometimes we make mistakes. sometimes we are on the registers for hours on end and are tired and our packing and scanning isn’t going to be perfect. we will refund you if you’ve been overcharged. it’s all going to be fine. you can’t ask for more humans on registers and get mad at them for not being machines.

[minnielvrr]

ASMR

Lee: Han Lers: Minho, Seungmin, Felix Word Count: 1.4k

A/N: For my baby @aeinzzzketchup🤗 Hope you get better soon darling~🫂🩷💖💞 (Hope this can help even a little bit😘🩷) Please forgive me for any mistakes, I didn't get to proofread this🥺

“Yeahh~ Hi STAY! I’m going to do an ASMR mukbang today~” Han whispered, waving cheerfully at the camera. The quokka had planned to do the live after Felix had brought up the idea a couple of days ago.

All his favorites were arranged neatly on the table top and a mic was set up close to his lips. The table itself was unusually high, covering his body up to his shoulders. He shrugged it off, it probably looked really cute to STAYs anyway.

He subtly gulped as the enticing smell of the food wafted all around him. After waiting a few minutes, he greeted STAYs, a fond smile making its way to his face when he read all the sweet comments they'd left him.

Then the staff signaled for him to start, and Han didn't need to be told twice. He agonized over which one to begin with, asking stays for their opinions before settling on the majority vote.

“Everyone, I don't usually have dessert first but since so many of you guys wanted to see me eat cheese cake, let's start with that!”

Hannie carefully scooped up a big spoonful if the yummy goodness, the treat exploding with flavors in his mouth. As he was busy savoring the food, three intruders tip toed their way into the room.

Seungmin held up a board that read ‘it’s a surprise!’ so Hannie stayed quiet, a small smile on his face at their antics.

His voice got gigglier as he tried out the different foods, feeling immensely shy under his members watchful eyes.

From time to time he would accidentally make slightly louder noises, getting startled when the noise then echoed in his ears.

As Hannie was munching on a slice of pizza, his cheeks puffing out adorably, Minho decided to strike. Crawling under the table, he quietly slipped his hands up Han’s sweater.

The quokka flinched, almost dropping the pizza in his hurry to grab at Minho’s hands. He quickly swallowed the food in his mouth, dipping his head under the table to hiss at the older.

“Hyung! W-whahat are you doing?!” Minho just smirked at him, making a shushing sound before his fingers began moving at Han’s waist. The younger’s hands grappled with his desperately as Han sealed his lips.

His now pink face popped up from under the table, form trembling and little pained giggles leaving his lips. “Le-lehehet’s continue hehehe…”

Hannie tried to keep his voice level as he shakily used one hand to bring his iced americano to his lips….only to almost choke on it when the playful kitten sunk his fingers into his squishy belly.

Then Felix joined, making his way behind his sunshine twins’ chair and started slowly clawing at his tummy, still hidden from view of the camera.

As for Seungmin, the puppy joined Felix, shoving his hands into Hannie’s armpits and snickering at the ace’s futile attempts to lean away.

“Hehehehe youhu guhuhuys stahap!” He managed a giggly whisper in a last ditch effort to hold back.

(Their silly teases and giggles were captured by the mic, and STAYs couldn’t help but laugh at the boys’ sweet attempts to stay incognito)

Han jumped with a hiss of laughter, biting his lips hard as he now used both his hands to push away the offending hands. But it was 3 against 1 and Hannie didn’t stand a chance.

As he silently snickered away, squirming like a worm in his chair, Seungmin got a brilliant idea. He whispered it to the kitten, none of the kids realizing that the mic was picking up all of their secret little whispers.

“Hyung! Hyung ask STAYs where they want to tickle him!” He tittered, buzzing with an excitement that had his hands vibrating in Hannie’s pits. The poor lee threw his head back, eyes squeezed shut as he endured the welcome torture.

Han most definitely heard the pup’s evil plan, and he tried to slither off the chair but Minho hurried into view of the camera, hooking his arms under Hannie's armpits and pulled his back onto the chair.

“STAY do you want to see how cute Hannie is when he's tickled?” Han squeaked, struggling futilely in his favorite hyungs’ arms and shaking his head wildly.

“No! Nonono. STAY I'm not ticklish, you guys knohow that right?” He pleaded frantically, hoping his puppy eyes would make them have mercy on him.

“Let's tickle Minho hyung! He's so sensitive, especially when you get hi��mMm!” Minho silenced him with a tight hand over Hannie's pouty lips, glaring daggers at the younger.

His ears were so red, the ace noticed with brimming amusement. So cute!

Then a smirk bloomed on Minho’s face when he read the comments. Some STAYs had turned on him, although most wanted to see Hannie's cute jumpy reactions.

It was concluded. Seungmin and Felix popped up from the sides, waving cheerfully at the camera.

“Okay so do you guys have any suggestions? Where should we wreck him first?” Han whined helplessly, trying to free himself as the kitten scanned the ideas their fans gave them.

There were some extremely inappropriate suggestions that he ignored with a frown…until his eyes landed on one that was frequently requested.

Hannie’s cute jaist. That just so happened to be one of Minho’s go-to spots on the younger. It always had Hannie melting into the cutest puddle of laughter.

“Waist it is!” He didn’t hesitate, hands kneading into the quokka’s slim waist. Han whimpered, pushing and pulling frantically at the older’s wrists.

“HYUNG! Mihihinho hyuhuhung nahahaha!! Not thehehere, plehease they’ll sehehehee!” Hannie felt so shy, his body feeling unbearably tingly as he read some of the comments through slitted eyes.

Then a certain puppy just reached over and sneakily slithered his hands under Han’s sweater, massaging the hypersensitive skin of their ace’s ribs, anywhere he could reach really.

Han slapped a hand over his mouth to stifle a loud cackle while his other hand tried to defend himself.

And then Felix, that little menace, dived for Hannie’s thighs, grabbing each thigh with one of his smaller hands.

Han looked pleadingly at the mischievous chick, who faltered for just a second before smirking and squeezing at the flesh, making poor Hannie jump and kick out.

“Hannie looooves when we tickle him! His favorite spot is his tummy. He’s soo sensitive there!” Felix narrated as he demonstrated the effects of their hands.

Han gave up then, face burning as he laughed without abandon, flopping back against the chair and ripping his headset away before fully blown laughter sounded throughout the small room.

“There’s that laughter I wanted to hear!” Minho praised, subtly kissing the top of Hannie’s head as he continued

They were ruthless with the sensitive little ace, rubbing his tummy, knuckling his ribs and Seungmin even risking his pretty face to scratch at the older’s feet.

Hannie kept his legs as still as he could possibly manage, not wanting to hurt the puppy but it just tickled so bad.

The most melodious laughs left his lips, leaving everyone in the room and STAYs across the world cooing at the sound.

“AHHAHAHAHA KIHIHIM SEUNGMIN!! I will kihihill you!!” He threatened weakly. His feet were one of his death spots, possibly one his worst death spots too. And Seungmin was exploiting that information like he was born to do this.

The last straw was when Minho started blowing raspberries on his tummy while digging his thumbs into his v-line. Han bucked so hard in his seat that the chair wobbled dangerously.

Minho let him go to steady them, Seungmin and Felix still going at it, maniacal cackles ringing out that had even the staff laughing.

“LIHIX! LIHIHIXIE PLEASE! OHOHO MY GOHOHOSH IT’S SO BAHAHAD!!” But no amount of begging got the eager chick to stop.

STAYs were going crazy in the comments. Laughing at Hannie’s predicament and adoring the cute boy’s laughter and beautiful heart shaped smile.

Eventually they let him go, Han slumping in his seat, exhausted. When the day had begun, he had not expected to be tickled within an inch of his life. But he wasn’t complaining.

His was so red, his hair a mess and warm tears streaking his cheeks. A wide, happy smile lit up his face and the four collectively bid their goodbyes, Felix teasingly adding that it was because Hannie just wanted more tickles.

So much for doing an ASMR live.

[stra-tek]

Lower Decks' cheesy museum exhibit Voyager was pretty much as I imagined the Starfleet Museum years ago when I wrote my forever-in-progress I Survived Kirk

There are multiple Fleet museums, one in San Francisco, one around Pluto, another at Memory Alpha, one at Copernicus, one at Andor etc.  We walked the San Francisco one.  I got to visit Enterprise NX-01, which had been equipped with little plaques everywhere giving backstory to everything from the mess to the warp reactor to what the Captain liked to watch in his quarters.  The plaques all had buttons which played various Captain’s Log excerpts.  The staff wore period-appropriate Starfleet uniforms (navy blue boiler suits with Enterprise patches on the shoulders), which I questioned the legality of since they’re not Starfleet officers.  I was told it was okay because they were period costumes, not actual uniforms.

I’d buddied up with Morgan Bateson.  I really liked his sense of humour.  And neither of us knew our fathers, although Morgan was pretty convinced he’d meet his in space one day, perhaps as head of some evil empire or other.  Oddly specific and statistically impossible, but weirder shit would happen in my time in Starfleet.

We visited the engine nacelle the crew hid in during an ion storm, the mess hall where they ate sandwiches and watched a movie every Friday night. The Captain’s Quarters where Admiral Archer probably masturbated a thousand times, a section of corridor where the chief engineer died in what they called a heroic act of self sacrifice but read more like a suicide, the sickbay where the captain’s dog was treated when it contracted an alien disease (and upon the underside of one of the cabinets, someone had crudely engraved “BR+DS 4EVA” which I doubt was part of the recreation), and the decon chamber.

Oh god, the deacon chamber.  Before transporters had biofilters (which screen out potentially harmful stuff and prevent us from bringing back deadly diseases), the crew had to strip down in a room and rub antibacterial lotion (which smelled like a mint julep, there was a sample for us all to sniff) all over themselves and/or each other’s bodies.  Sounds nice and wholesome and definitely didn’t fuel my sexual fantasies for the rest of my academy tenure and adult life.

Engineering had the second most little plaques with buttons after the bridge.  Most of them were about the warp five engine and how revolutionary and amazing it supposedly was.  Of mild interest was a video clip of an old Zefram Cochrane made shortly before his disappearance, where he said what became the Captain’s Oath.

The bridge was spammed with plaques and buttons, which played countless audio clips of the crew doing crew-y stuff.  The communications officer speaking Klingon slowly and awkwardly, the helmsman had exactly one soundbyte: “aye, sir” (seriously, couldn’t they get anything better for that guy?) and the Captain saying heroic-sounding things which sounded weird out of context.  The captain’s chair was actually missing, being repaired after a member of the public broke it.  Instead there was just the mounting pole sticking up in the middle of the room, which we all made obscene comments about sitting on.

The Captain had a tiny ready room just off the bridge, which had a century-old game of water polo playing on loop on a TV, a desk, a stack of music minidisks and not much else besides lots more buttons and soundbytes. There was a single cargo transporter nestled halfway along a corridor.  The crew used it to beam themselves to and from alien ships and worlds believing it to be safe, but it really wasn’t and many of them suffered sterility and health issues in later life.

It was a fun little excursion.  I didn’t learn much more than I’d already absorbed as a kid growing up, but actually being on the iconic vessel-turned-tourist-trap made it all seem real.

[made-some-ki-points]

Character Ideas Day 13: Eloquence Bard

You are the on staff translator for a viscous, tyrannical leader of a kingdom who took over for your former, much nicer boss. The ruler doesn’t know the language you speak, so you decide to begin inviting a revolution, sending messages to the people to fight and rally up, causing bloody but successful revolutions at several important sites. Just a day or two ago, you were caught, and now people are out to kill the most successful traitor the kingdom has ever seen. Though you’re a little worried, you’ve already built up a legion, and they will never allow anything bad to happen to their mobilizer.

A widely maligned, though not inherently evil god has selected you as their chosen one, making you a pariah in a single moment. Desperate to stay a part of society and in the good graces of your friends and family, you manage to convince some of a divine mistake, that you are just a normal individual without any particular predestination. It’s working out well enough, until you remember: The god you supposedly have been chosen by is also a god of lies. Naturally, they’ve been quite enjoying your desperate efforts to flee.

You are the often controversial color commentator for a local gladiatorial ring, a favorite of guests but a source of endless anger for competitors. When one of your punchlines sends a gladiator over the edge, they follow you home from work and beat you nearly to death, leaving you to bleed and reconsider what exactly you’re meant to be doing. Now, you’ve been soul searching, not out for revenge like most believe, wanting nothing more than to find a way to do your work without being a complete jerk.

When you were conscripted into a local military force, you were almost certain you way with words would land you a job in propaganda. To your delight, this wasn’t the case, but when you found out what your actual assignment was, you were shocked. You had been tasked with notifying the families of those who had died, a task that felt insurmountable, but one you actually found yourself very good at. After your contract was up, one of the clerics you befriended suggested you continue, telling you about someone they know who’s been adventuring for a while. This individual, another party member, is who you’re out to meet, and with trust in your friend, you’re willing to go along with them, excited to report to your former colleague how your new life is treating you.

You are the personal songwriter for one of the most famous bards in all the land. Your name is largely out of the public eye, and for the most part you’re fine with that, preferring just to write and stay under the radar. But when the bard you work for misses their first meeting in years, and doesn’t respond to any messages, you’re put into a tailspin of worry and the prospect of a lost job. Now, it’s your turn in the spotlight, looking for the person who kidnapped your employer and friend, seeking help from any who will offer it and hoping desperately to bring them back alive.

You are an art instructor, teaching those who wish to know your art how to do it with stunning accuracy. You have learned to provide the proper inspiration when in the studio, but oddly, it never seems to be a talent they can keep outside of your walls. So, they keep coming back, and you keep making money. It's a con, yes, but a relatively harmless one, and one you fully intended to keep going strong. But after you're robbed, you find yourself needing to take it on the road, searching for new ways (legal and... Otherwise) to make a steady living.

Your child was a career adventurer, and the sight of their party at your home when they needed to rest was not at all uncommon. After the loss of your partner it was a welcome way to have company, and in exchange you provided sage wisdom and inspiration whenever they needed a hand. The last time the party left, they were setting off to fight a beast of legend, and you did your best to be supportive. But when your child was the only one who came back, terrified, grieving and bloodied, a protective rage boils in your chest. After they recover, you set out to take the beast down, getting revenge for your children, biological and otherwise.

You are the widely feared interrogator for your local group of night's watchmen, carrying with you a fierce and strong reputation. You've put many criminals away, your tactics the product of legend throughout the area. One day, though, you came to a startling realization: Unbeknownst to you, nearly every confession you got was magically coerced, and though so many believe what you're doing is right, you're instantly thrown into a spiral of shame. Now, you've set off on an adventure to make amends, and to make yourself into something other than a figure of horror.

You are a poet and street artist, posting inspirational poems on very public, very illegal places to spread your message, whatever it may be. You've been in and out of prison for years, making friends with much of the criminal underground and establishing yourself under a new name and persona. Lately, a new artist has been on your turf, spreading news of a rumored apocalypse on a wide scale. You don't believe it for a minute, but at the end of the day, the asshole's on your turf. You're more than willing to help people try and stop this apocalypse, real or not, if it makes your rival leave your area.

You are the town's only couple's counselor, primarily helping others verbalize their feelings effectively. Of course, you're busy, but recently your latest clients have stolen your attention, a group of adventurers making wild claims about not only each other, but what their group did in the wild just outside of town. Maybe your curiosity got the better of you, maybe there was a genuine magical call, but you have to figure out what was happening, if for no other reason than to figure out how to help your new clients effectively.

[donttouchmeimwriting]

Argo ch. 1

Friday the 13th - Friendship/Romance - Jason Voorhees/OC M/M ship

2897 words, 3rd person POV

This is not following canon closely at all and I'm kinda blending bits of Jason's personality between original movies, the remake, and fan versions so this is pretty solidly AU. I hope you enjoy!

Cross-posting on FFN under PyroTheWereCat

There was no pleasure in killing. It was a task, like any other, but one that had to be done adequately. Even if it took several tries and the body was mangled by the end of it, the life had to be gone from their eyes.

"We can't have them coming back to hurt us, can we?"

Mother was right. Mother was always right. She was the only one who cared. She was the only one who knew kindness. It was her idea and her decision to take revenge against the wicked counselors of Camp Crystal Lake, and what she wanted, she would get.

She had nearly died herself trying to punish the ones responsible for her son's drowning, and so the pair needed to live in hiding, deep in the woods surrounding the camp. It took over ten years of teaching and training, but it was finally time. Mother knew best, and Jason Voorhees was willing to serve her every command.

Four years ago, Jason began his killing spree. He picked off the counselors one by one, catching each in a deadly infraction. He worked carefully at first, making the disappearances look like believable shirking of duties or horrible accidents. That year, authorities ruled the camp could reopen for the next season with some extra safety precautions. Jason was praised so lovingly that year.

The second year, Jason continued his streak, but allowed himself to get a little sloppy. The murders were attributed to one of the staff members, and no one was the wiser to his presence (or, more importantly, his mother's). The camp was forcibly closed for the following season, and Jason's mother prayed it would stay closed and they could be free of the evil of the counselors who knew no compassion.

But, as an investigation cleared the camp of outside interference, further cementing the falsely accused staff member as the murderer, Crystal Lake reopened for another season, forcing Jason out of hiding once more. He did not want to go back, having enjoyed the peaceful summer with his mother last year, but he knew he had a job to do. He dusted off his mask, sharpened his machete, and set out for Camp Crystal Lake once more.

This year already felt different for Jason. Perhaps it was the time off, or perhaps he was growing tired of killing, but this year he decided to approach things in a different way. He spent the first two weeks of camp watching from the shadows, identifying the counselors and their habits. There were eight of them: four men, four women. Their ages were uncertain, but it seemed the youngest was about seventeen and the oldest was about twenty-five, the majority being roughly twenty-one. College age, Mother had said, was the worst age for most folks. Leftover rebellion from their adolescence and newfound freedom created a sinful breeding ground for debauchery and cruelty that needed to be punished. Jason was of this age now as well, and he had promised to not let himself lose sight of his task.

During the weeks Jason watched the camp, he noticed a few important details. First, he noticed that ghost stories about the murders he and his mother had committed were being told at nightly bonfires, embellished to near supernatural lengths. This excited Jason to some degree, seeing that his hard work had noticeable impact years later. Second, he noticed there were no hikes on the outer trails and strict curfews were imposed on both the campers and the counselors, keeping the grounds barren between the hours of 9PM and 7AM. This rule would make Jason's work difficult if he planned on making any of these deaths appear accidental, but he could improvise if needed.

The third detail, and the most curious of all, Jason noticed that out of all eight counselors, one stood out as unique. The first distinctive feature was that he was shorter than the rest of his coworkers, somewhere close to five feet tall. Jason almost mistook him for a camper at first, but the back of his shirt clearly read 'COUNSELOR'. What truly set him apart from the rest, however, was how attentive he was to the campers. He made sure every voice was heard and no one felt left out. He kept a bright and supportive demeanor no matter the circumstances, and helped the campers with every activity. Furthermore, he did not seem interested in sneaking off to sacrifice his job duties in favor of more lecherous behavior. Jason found himself growing fascinated with this counselor, and opted to watch him a little more closely to see if he had any damning secrets that would confirm his impending death with the rest.

Another week dragged on, and Jason regrettably had lost track of time. He followed this seemingly kind counselor as he engaged the children in their activities and lent a listening ear to those who had problems or concerns. What could he be hiding? Mother was certain that anyone who took a job at this camp was a bad person, and Mother was always right...right?

"Alright, everyone!" the strange counselor called one morning, catching the attention of his group, "It's Friday tomorrow, and that means s'mores night!"

He allowed for a brief cheer from the kids before quieting them down again to continue,

"S'mores are really nice, aren't they?" Whoops and words of agreement rose from the group. "Do we agree that nice kids deserve to have nice treats?" More affirmations rang out. "That's right! But it's come to my attention, as well as the other counselors, that there's been some of you who haven't been as nice as they should be."

Jason leaned forward from his seated vantage point on a log, listening curiously to the counselor's teaching moment. Would he punish the whole group of kids for a minority's bad behavior? Would he revoke s'mores privileges? Would he try to drown some of the children in the lake? That last one was unlikely, but the thought still crossed Jason's mind. The counselor continued,

"Here at Camp Crystal Lake, we value honesty, teamwork, and what else?"

"Accountability," the children chorused.

"Exactly right," he praised, "And if one of us is being picked on, it's up to the rest of us to help them feel included, right?"

"Right!"

The counselor clapped his hands together, smiling kindly at the group.

"I don't want anyone to feel like they're in trouble, so we're gonna make this into a game, okay?" he proposed, "We're all detectives looking for clues on whodunnit. We have to solve the mystery of who's being a bully and have them apologize by tomorrow night, or all the s'mores will have to go away until next week. Does that sound fair?"

"Yes," the kids answered, somewhat anxious now that the promised snacks might be withheld.

"Awesome! Here are the rules of the game: you can't force someone to give you a clue if they don't want to. That would defeat the purpose of the game! You also can't point any fingers until the bonfire is lit tomorrow night. If the person who was mean wants to come forward on their own, they have to come to me or one of the other counselors so it doesn't spoil the end of the game. Once the person is revealed, they have to apologize to the person they hurt and will spend the weekend making it up to them because, here at Camp Crystal Lake, we want everyone to have a great time. If one of us isn't having a good time, we all have to work together to help them so we can leave here at the end of the summer with the best memories and the best friends. So let me hear it from you guys: are we ready to go out and have a great day?"

The kids burst into another round of cheers and the counselor shepherded them off to their first activity of the day. Jason propped his elbow on his thigh and rested his chin in his hand. He frowned in contemplation. This counselor was so dedicated to the kids...could he be an exception? Could Jason's mother have been wrong? He would have to catch this counselor alone to find out more. He still had plenty of time to dispatch the whole staff, he figured, so he had the time to learn what he could about this one counselor.

Jason stalked the counselor over the next few hours, watching him be the perfect role model for the kids as usual. Finally, sometime near midday, the counselor took a break after passing his group to another and announced he was going to check the nearest hiking trail for debris before he took the kids on it later. One of the female counselors offered to walk with him, and Jason detected signs of flirtation in her body language, but he refused, claiming it would be a short trip. Jason felt his heart beat faster with anticipation, following him just out of sight as he walked the trail, moving any large sticks or rocks from the path. Jason flexed his fingers on the hilt of his machete, wondering if he should kill him now despite having no evidence yet that he was a bad person. He resolved he would wait until they were far enough away from the camp where screams would not carry, then he would decide.

The counselor moved at a brisk and energetic pace, enjoying his time alone. He seemed so full of life and vigor...Jason almost felt bad that he was planning on murdering him. The counselor stopped at a fallen branch blocking the path and looked it over, his hands on his hips.

"That's a big one," he commented to himself, "I hope I can get it out of the way on my own."

With that he bent down to lift one end of the branch, stepping backwards to drag it off the trail. From Jason's position, he could see another, smaller branch on the ground behind the counselor, twisted and gnarled, but big enough to pose a hazard. Jason watched as the counselor caught his foot on the hidden branch and tumbled backwards, rolling through the leaves and sticks as he fell down the slope. He went over a slanted rock near the bottom and crumpled on the other side of a rotting log, his ankle caught in a hole in the log. Jason slowly approached, minding his steps down the slope so he would not fall as well.

The counselor grunted in pain as he pushed himself up on his elbows and attempted to free his leg from the log. He had dirt on his face and debris in his hair and, as Jason drew closer and could see more clearly, cuts and scrapes all over his arms and legs. Unsuccessful in his attempts, the counselor fell back on his elbows, breathing hard. He craned his neck to look over the log, having heard the approaching footsteps, and his eyes met Jason's, mere feet away.

"Oh my gosh, you startled me!" he greeted, "Thank goodness someone else was on the trail! I'm okay, by the way, I'm just a little stuck. Can you help me out?"

Jason froze as the counselor addressed him. Oddly enough, he didn't seem afraid, despite Jason's hulking stature, out of place hockey mask, and freshly sharpened blade in hand. He tilted his head to one side, puzzled. He hadn't been this close to another person (aside from his mother) in almost two years, but he distinctly remembered every person he had been this close to fearing him on sight. He looked down at his machete, wondering what was holding him back from stabbing this man and walking away. It was all so easy before...

"Ooh, yes, you came prepared!" the counselor said, noticing the machete as well, "If you're careful, you can probably hack around the opening so I can get my foot loose. If you want, I can get you some free food back at camp for helping me out. It's not much, but Miriam makes a mean chicken salad."

He smiled up at Jason, and Jason felt his heart stop for a moment. There was not a single flicker of fear in the counselor's eyes. All he could see was the same gentle expression shown to the kids back at camp. An unfamiliar feeling came over Jason and, for the first time in years, he felt compelled to help. He raised the machete, his eyes focused on the counselor's trapped leg. His breathing hitched, one part of his mind urging him to kill as Mother instructed, the other begging him to show mercy, just this once. He glanced back at the counselor's face, at that warm smile, and made his choice.

The machete swung down and struck the wood of the log, sending a spray of splinters into the air. The counselor winced, shielding his eyes from the shower, and tried to wiggle his leg loose.

"Still a little stuck," he announced, "I think one more whack on the other side oughta do it."

Jason wrenched the blade out of the wood and swung again on the other side of the counselor's leg. As predicted, the counselor was able to maneuver himself out of the weakened structure. He brushed the splinters and dirt off of his skin and shakily stood up, clearly in some pain from the fall.

"Thank you," he said to Jason, his smile returning, "Really, I would have been in some trouble if you weren't here, so thanks a lot. My name's Lijah."

He extended a hand to Jason to shake, but Jason was too caught off guard by his own response to the situation as well as Lijah's genuine friendliness to return the gesture. Lijah lowered his hand, unfazed by the lack of reaction.

"Not a talker, huh? That's okay," he noted, then became visibly nervous, "Oh, cripes, I'm sorry, are you deaf?"

He made some strange hand movements with that last sentence, gesturing to Jason and to his own ear. Jason shook his head, slowly coming out of his confusion.

"Ah, gotcha," Lijah said, relaxing, "That works for me. I'm not very good at signing."

He laughed at this, and Jason felt a pang of....something. Lijah's laugh was light and pleasant sounding...it reminded Jason of dappled sunlight through trees. He couldn't explain it, but he wanted to stay near Lijah for a while longer.

"In all seriousness, what is your name?" Lijah asked, "I'd like to know who my hero is."

Hero. That wasn't a word Jason thought would ever be associated with him, but it felt surprisingly good to hear Lijah call him that. He looked around himself for a moment, then up the slope at the trail. He motioned for Lijah to follow him and made his way up to the flatter part of the forest floor. Lijah had some slight difficulty following him, being so much smaller and having mild injuries, but he made it up the slope all the same. Jason waited until Lijah had caught his breath and stood next to him. He held his machete out to the ground and drew the letters of his name into the dirt. Lijah read the name aloud once he had finished and looked up at Jason brightly.

"Jason!" he chirped with delight, "Like the Argonaut in Greek mythology!"

Jason tilted his head, frowning. His mother had told him many stories as he grew up, but they were all from the Bible. He wasn't familiar with the character Lijah was referencing, and Lijah could see his bewilderment.

"He's a hero in his story," he explained, "well, for the most part. He goes on adventures with his crew and they see and do all kinds of amazing things together."

Jason nodded, liking the sound of this hero with the same name as himself. And the fact that he was not entirely virtuous...that struck a chord with him. He gestured to Lijah, who seemed to understand that he was asking about his name.

"I was originally supposed to be Elijah," he said, emphasizing the 'e' at the beginning, "but my little sister had trouble saying the whole name, so I changed it to just Lijah. By itself, I don't think it means anything special, but it's pretty special to me."

Jason stared at Lijah. How was he so good-natured? Even with an intimidating stranger like Jason, he managed to keep his upbeat attitude and unselfish way of speaking. Was he stupid or genuinely that benevolent?

"Hey, walk with me back to camp," Lijah encouraged, setting off in that direction, "I owe you lunch."

Jason felt a small stab of panic and shook his head. He looked over his shoulder and back at Lijah, who nodded.

"You've got somewhere to be - that's fine! Don't worry about it, big guy! But, if you find yourself back this way, come find me at counselor cabin 5 and I'll get you a meal to pay you back for helping me. Thanks again!"

He waved goodbye before turning and walking back towards the camp, the pep in his step dampened only slightly by the soreness in his legs. Jason watched him go and wondered wildly what had just happened. Had he somehow accidentally made a friend?

[alittlewhump]

Unbidden - Act 2, chapter 2

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Content warnings: non-sexual noncon touch mention, just a tiny taste of drugging (fade to black)

Once Jerhyn had bemusedly agreed to Morgan's request for a more private meeting, just the two men and two watchful guards, things went much more smoothly. He'd been able to properly explain the situation with the dark wanderer, and the sultan had divulged a story passed down through the royal family concerning the imprisonment of a great evil within a tomb deep in the desert. The story had unfortunately been rather shy on specifics, but that proved to be a convenient segue into an inquiry about the city archives. They were housed on the other side of the city, staffed by a small team of dedicated archivists. Jerhyn assured him that they would be happy to welcome his inquiries. Lut Gholein was proud of its history.

After that was settled, it had been simple enough to convince Jerhyn that his time would be better spent searching for the source of the demonic activity rather than just reacting to it. He'd promised to share whatever he learned with the mercenaries and the local clergy, which had apparently been something of a surprise. Jerhyn had reassured him quickly that yes, of course the priests of Akarat would be keen to know more, he simply hadn't expected an outsider to consider that angle. Luckily, he seemed content to drop the issue there. There were few enough places that welcomed the Order of Rathma with open arms, and Morgan did not wish to test the hospitality of this one if he could avoid it.

He also made it clear that he was not affiliated with Blaise in any meaningful capacity, and that her considerable skills were her own to direct. After all she had done for him, it was the least he could offer in return. The mention of her got a chuckle out of the palace guards. Apparently she had arisen quite early and demanded an audience with the commander, who did not appreciate being roused. He apparently hadn't expected her to accept his cranky, blustering challenge to a test of her fighting skills, and had expected even less to be soundly beaten. So she had already earned her rank and a great deal of respect. Morgan noted that news seemed to travel quite fast in this city. At any rate, he was glad to hear she was doing well for herself.

All in all, the meeting had been a great success. Pleased with the progress so far, Morgan set out to explore the city. It was one of the largest he'd ever visited. Its centre was dominated by a sprawling marketplace spilling over with all manner of vendors. The sounds and smells were a little much to handle all at once. He would be able to manage brief excursions, but it would definitely be draining. Luckily, the archives were located away from the market. It would probably be possible to avoid the marketplace by taking the smaller side streets, once he got a better picture of the city's layout.

As promised, the archivists were polite and accommodating. After a brief tour, one of them even introduced herself as a local historian. She sat with Morgan for about an hour, patiently answering his questions as best she could. Her specialization was in more recent history, but she was at least able to fill in some of the details. The tomb from the royal family's story was that of Tal Rasha, a powerful mage who had died imprisoning a great evil. The identity of the evil sealed away was apparently the subject of some academic debate, as was the actual location of the tomb. On one hand, that meant there was plenty of reference material. On the other hand, it also meant that there were likely to be a lot of false leads. That was fine by Morgan, though; he enjoyed puzzles, and if he could approach the research from that angle, so much the better.

He settled himself in with a small collection of texts to start with. The archivists took turns checking on him about once an hour, then less often as it became clear he wasn't going anywhere. At one point the historian brought him a cup of wonderful-smelling spiced tea, which he thanked her for and promptly forgot about until after it was stone cold. It had gotten strong and bitter, but it sufficed to get him through another few hours of reading. All the parties seemed to agree that the tomb had been surrounded by a multitude of identical fakes, though estimations ranged in the exact number of those, and guesses as to what distinguished the true tomb varied wildly. It made for fascinating reading, and nobody bothered him except to helpfully point out the storeroom where the oil for the lamps was stored.

It occurred to Morgan about fifteen minutes later that the bit about the lamps had probably been a cue. He approached the archivist ready to apologize for overstaying his welcome. She reassured him that although they generally closed overnight, that restriction would be waived due to him being on royal business. That was welcome news, though he didn't recall mentioning the sultan's request. However, now that he had stood and moved around a bit, it was becoming clear that it was time to seek out a meal.

After confirming which materials he was permitted to borrow - enough to get him through the night, anyway - he left with a heavy pack and directions to a tavern that sounded promising for both food and local knowledge. Although it was his least favoured method of gathering information, it was inescapable fact that people often knew little tidbits that weren't considered important enough to record. Sometimes those scraps of information could prove vital, so he would seek them out as best he could.

Since artificial lighting was readily available and he'd been granted unfettered access to the archives, it was easy for Morgan to slip into a more nocturnal schedule. He spent the hottest part of the days sleeping or meditating in his room at the palace, slowly but surely expanding his magical reserves and refreshing his training in emotional control. That left the mornings and evenings to canvass the locals for information, and the long cool nights to pore over materials in the archives.

None of the merchants or inn staff were able to provide any useful leads, but he had received a plethora of advice on how best to avoid and treat sunburn, including several referrals to a local alchemist. It was something of a relief that his complexion seemed to be regarded as more of a curiosity than a deformity here. The alchemist in question was called Lysander, and he operated his stall by the edge of the marketplace. He was a pleasant, professional man who did not question Morgan when he requested one of each different analgesic preparation in his arsenal. Not one of them had any effect on the pain in his injured arm. That was disappointing; it would have been preferable to chalk up the earlier failures to some sort of error in the preparation on his part, but Lysander was highly regarded and very unlikely to be selling faulty product.

A couple of days in, Morgan was pleased to encounter Cain on his way to the archives. The scholar seemed genuinely interested in his research, and soon began joining him. It was unexpectedly nice to have the quiet company, a companionable silence settling comfortably between them. It was also its own kind of luxury to stay within the city, to be able to go about his business with just the clothes on his back and perhaps a coin purse instead of having to bring everything with him.

The room where he left his things was... well, it was a unique but overall tolerable situation. As promised, none of the other members of the harem guild gave him so much as a second glance, which was a relief. Jemali continued to be aggressively flirtatious, but at least he generally honoured his agreement about physical contact. He was naturally expressive with his hands, so Morgan resigned himself to the occasional touch on the arm or shoulder when he got too close to the other man.

Attempts to explain the prickling discomfort of being touched didn't seem to stick. He supposed the courtesan had little enough reason to care. Most often he retreated to Morgan's room to rest, snatching a brief nap in between whatever else he was doing. Sometimes he would talk about his work. Morgan wasn't especially fond of those times, but thankfully Jemali seemed to want an outlet more than a conversation partner.

The priests of Akarat had given Morgan a warm enough reception, though he'd been careful to avoid mention of his own profession beyond working for the sultan. They made it clear that unless his work produced substantive results, they were not at all interested in learning about his research. That was agreeable for all parties, he felt.

Occasionally, Morgan would venture out into the desert surrounding the city. He quickly learned to spot the signs of the various aggressive insects that seemed to thrive in the desert environment, from the particular patterns the enormous beetles left in the sand to the nearly invisible hives that housed swarms of blood-hungry flies. There were other creatures as well, but the insects were the most dangerous; they didn't take any notice of any golems he raised, interested only in living flesh and blood. At least the misshapen things that might once have been related to vultures, and the occasional undead, could be distracted by his constructs.

He'd managed to locate a few tombs, all in various states of disrepair. Unsurprising, really, given their distance from the city and the aggressive fauna surrounding them. Similar to what he'd seen with Andariel, the dead inside were risen and restless. Fortunately, the supplies he needed to lay them back to rest were easy enough to come by. Lysander raised his eyebrows at Morgan's requests for specific oils but produced them without further comment. There was generally little else of interest in the tombs, but it felt pleasantly useful to be able to carry out these small acts of service to punctuate the long stretches of information gathering.

He was learning much about Lut Gholein - the infrastructure of desert waypoints was particularly interesting, like portals but in fixed locations - but next to nothing about the tomb of Tal Rasha, even with Cain's help. The evidence leaned toward Baal, Lord of Destruction, being the evil that was contained within it. Unfortunately, most references to its location had either been removed or redacted. It made sense for the tomb to be hidden, to prevent grave robbers from targeting it and unwittingly unleashing Baal onto the world. That was a sensible precaution which also happened to make his current objective much more difficult. It wasn't as though he could actually track the dark wanderer through the desert; the wanderer was much too far ahead for that thanks to Morgan's long convalescence. Any traces would have long since been erased. He had to find the tomb some other way.

From time to time Blaise stopped in, usually staying for just a minute or two to share the latest news from the mercenaries. Perhaps she'd been asked to keep communications open. It was a little unusual that it was never any of the other mercenaries, but Morgan wasn't about to complain. Known allies were always preferable to strangers.

Morgan was on his way to the archives one night, later than usual. He hadn't realized how late it had gotten while he'd been reading until the oil lamp had guttered out. Rather than refill it in the dark and risk waking Jemali, who had fallen fast asleep on the bed after airing some complaints about a particularly demanding client, he decided to take his research elsewhere.

He liked the city at night. Everything was softer, the smells of the marketplace just lingering memories, the last of the vendors packed up for the day, the chatter and bustle stilled. If he sat still for long enough, one of the innumerable stray cats would find the courage to rub hopefully against his ankles. He'd made the mistake of feeding one of them once, and they'd not forgotten. They were charming little opportunists. None of them were around this evening, though. Perhaps they'd found someone with a steadier supply of food for them, he thought as he turned down a narrow street. It was nice to imagine they were being cared for.

"Hey," a voice called out softly from somewhere above. "Pale one." Morgan looked up to see a man raising a hand in greeting from a second storey window. The voice was vaguely familiar. "You ever find what you were looking for?" Ah, it was one of the many people he'd tried asking for information. Nothing in particular made this one stand out from the rest, as far as he could tell. People often blurred together, and he was too far away to see the man's face clearly.

"Good evening. I'm making some progress."

"Well, good luck with that. Akarat guide you."

"And you."

The man retreated inside and Morgan resumed walking. He followed the street to its intersection, gazing up at the skyline to orient himself with the looming silhouettes of the palace and the city gates. The streets were mazelike at times, and he still hadn't determined the fastest route across the city from the palace to the archives. Maybe if he tried taking the left fork this time...

The sharp sting of an insect bite interrupted his musing. He swatted at his neck, annoyed. The damned things were usually less active after dusk, but there was no real escape. For half a second, he was confused by the unfamiliar feeling under his fingers. Why would an insect be made of metal, he thought fuzzily as the world tilted around him. He was unconscious before he hit the ground.

[lonelier-version-of-you]

what would be your dream au where this storyline had been done right? like what would the key moments or scenes be?

Ohh boy anon you have opened a can of worms here. It’s a can of what I personally think are very good worms, but it’s a can of worms nonetheless. I have put so much thought into how I wish this SL had gone.

OK. My number 1 priority for this AU version of the storyline that was actually done right: the abuser is NOT Sahira’s dad.

In fact, Sahira isn’t involved with the storyline at all. Or if it absolutely must overlap with her return (which is a story I wanted to happen, just... not like this, and I think it should’ve been completely separate from this one), she’s supporting Henrik (perhaps in a similar sort of role to the one Fletch took a couple of weeks ago). But I think it’s easier if she’s just not involved at all.

Instead, we’re introduced to a new childhood friend of Henrik’s (à la when Rox and John came in as “Henrik’s university friends” even though he’d never mentioned them before). The name or gender doesn’t really matter, but for this post, I’ll assume it’s a woman and call her Stacey just to make things easier.

Stacey could be introduced shortly before the storyline as a new staff member, or come in when her dad - let’s call him Richard - is brought in. That doesn’t really matter either, though I’m leaning towards the idea of her coming in to see her dad and being introduced then. Oh, and obviously, Richard is white because fuck this weird “men of colour are evil” racial stereotyping, and also it’s far more plausible for him to have got away with abusing his pupils all these years if he’s white. (Stacey is probably also white, though she could also be biracial so long as it was her mother who was a POC. The important part is for Henrik’s abuser to be white - and in this case, since it sounds like Henrik went to an all-boys private school, there probably would have been mostly male teachers so it’s most likely for it to have been a man who abused him, so that’s why I’m still keeping it as the dad of his childhood friend.)

Also, in this hypothetical verse (hey, you said my dream AU, I can go as far-out as I want), COVID wasn’t a thing and therefore the show still has hour-long episodes and this storyline can actually get the screentime it deserves.

Some other significant changes are that the Cameron storyline would finish before the Henrik storyline started, and Jac would still be on the show.

So. The scenes/plot points I would keep the same:

- S22E40, the beginning of the storyline, would have played out exactly the same except the abuser isn’t Reyhan. Honestly, this was a good episode and a good introduction to the storyline, my only qualm is the Reyhan aspect. Definitely keeping the “you were always my special boy” scene - that was brilliant(ly terrifying).

- The scene in S22E44 where Henrik confronts Reyhan about the abuse would have stayed the same, except, again, it wouldn’t have been Reyhan. I love this scene. Absolutely love it. It’s incredibly well done, and it is incredibly powerful on a disability/autism level. I could not get rid of it in a million years.

- I would keep the fundamentals of how the abuse went pretty much the same, although I would have been more explicit about Henrik having had a crush on Richard than the show has been so far about his having had a crush on Reyhan (because I want them to stop dancing around Henrik’s queerness). But the whole thing of a teenaged Henrik, not having fully come to grips with his bisexuality yet, being groomed, thinking he was having a consensual relationship, then realising much later it was abuse? Yeah, it works, we can keep that.

Things that would be different:

- The storyline would have been announced in advance.

- Henrik would actually have a social circle and friends there to support him. He would be in a steady relationship with Carole, who would support him. In my dream Holby, Roxanna never died, so she’s there. Sacha is more involved in the whole situation instead of being so caught up in Dom’s storyline.

Jac definitely still needs to be there, and as another anon said a while back, she should have had a scene with Henrik about them both being rape survivors along the lines of that scene she had with Guy Self in S18E46 about them both having abusive mothers.

If the storyline overlapped with Sahira’s return at all, then as earlier stated, she’d also be there to support Henrik - regardless of how he may have treated her in the past, she knows no one deserves this, and as a mother she’s horrified at the thought of such a thing happening to a child.

- Not only would we have had a scene with Jac and Henrik talking about everything, but we would have had one with Dom and Henrik too. There is a wonderful parallel in the idea of Dom being there to support Henrik through having to face his abuser again, just like Henrik was there for Dom through everything with Isaac.

- Henrik would have gone to the police and reported Richard of his own free will, not because he was forced to.

- Henrik would have been given the chance to open up to other people (at least Jac and possibly Sacha; I think he wouldn’t say anything to anyone other than them until later) about what happened to him before having to say anything to his abuser’s daughter.

We can still keep the plot point of Henrik noticing his abuser trying to get time alone with his grandson, being horrified and shouting at him to stay away from the child, leading to a confrontation where his abuser’s daughter is like “why would you assume such a thing about my father?!” and Henrik says “because he did it to me”. Stacey, however, would listen to Henrik and take his words into consideration, rather than going into kneejerk “omg you’re a liar” mode. She’s torn between her love for her dad and what she’s now learned from Henrik, but she doesn’t straight up deny that abuse happened - she just has complicated feelings about how to deal with it.

- Rather than another allegation being made that Henrik’s abuser’s daughter doesn’t believe, a few other victims would come forward after Henrik reported Richard. One of these victims would be, just like in canon, a boy who was abused very recently... and he happens to be autistic. There would be parallels drawn between this boy and Henrik - the show’s already done this with the comments about them both being “odd”, I’d just make it less subtle by actually introducing him for an episode and explicitly stating that he’s autistic - which make it very clear to anyone who hadn’t already figured it out that Henrik is autistic too, just undiagnosed, and Richard took advantage of both of their isolation from their peers and difficulty with reading people’s intentions.

- Richard would face actual justice, instead of just dying and basically getting away with it the way Reyhan’s gonna do.

- Henrik’s queerness would be addressed more clearly, and the fact that the trauma from the abuse made it harder for him to admit his feelings for Gaskell would be mentioned.

- All of this would lead into a longer-term storyline exploring Henrik’s mental health and his trauma.

[just-writing-things]

Once a triplet

A collaboration between me and @the-writer-girl-nerd

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It had been a quiet day in Duckburg, which was not a good thing. It meant the other shoe was going to fall. It meant something was going to happen. Something bad. Something… Dangerous. And sure, the rest of his family thrived on danger, but for Louie, he would prefer a little less catastrophe. So, even though it should have been a quiet, lazy Saturday, he was anxious. Waiting for something to go wrong.

Then the question, posed by Della, “Where’s Huey?” The other shoe fell.

Dewey shrugged as his other brother joined him and their mom in the foyer of Scrooge’s mansion.

“Probably organizing his Junior Woodchuck guidebooks in alphabetical order or something.” Dewey guessed as he headed towards the stairs to grab his video camera from their room.

Louie waved off Della’s comment as well, following Dewey upstairs and cornering him when they were alone.

“Should we maybe worry about where Huey is? Maybe something is going on?” He didn’t want to jump to conclusions or start panicking immediately, but it had been so quiet. And quiet never ended well.

“Why?” Dewey asked, pushing the door to their room open. “I’m sure he’s…..”

Dewey stopped in his tracks. The room was a mess, books and comics all over the floor, the blankets untucked, and a picture of the Duck family on the floor, the frame cracked and splintered.

“Fine?” Dewey finished, a warble of uncertainty in his voice. He didn’t notice Huey’s hat, crumpled on the floor, no sign of its wearer in sight.

“Yeah,” Louie said, eyes wide and horrified, picking up the hat and waving it in the air, “I’m sure he’s fine.” Sarcasm dripped from his voice, masking the fear.

Dewey took the hat from his brother. “Huey never goes anywhere without this! Where do you think he is?”

“If I had any idea where Huey was then we would already be there, looking for him! The only one who has any idea where Huey is is Huey.” Louie went to the closet and pulled down Huey’s conspiracy board, a few red threads hanging loose. He studied the board a little longer and made a guess.

“Uh, maybe the marina? Or the Beagle Boys’ hideout. Or maybe Funzo’s. I could be, might be… Definitely, probably am wrong…” He doubted himself more when he was anxious, and this definitely made him anxious. His brother could be seriously hurt or worse.

“Hey, don’t panic. We’ll find him!” Dewey reassured his brother enthusiastically. Actually, Dewey was just as anxious as his younger brother was, though he didn’t like to show it.

“Find who?” Another bright voice asked, making the two boys jump. Webby rocked back and forth on the heels of her feet, clasping her hands behind her excitedly with stars in her eyes, ready for another adventure.

“Huey is missing. The room is a wreck and nothing is okay,” Louie said, “And we can’t tell Mom or Uncle Donald because they’d freak out.”

“Wait, what? Wouldn’t they want to help find him?” Webby stopped bouncing, a confused look on her face.

“I just… If we can’t find him today, we’ll let them know,.” Louie suggested.

“Oh. Okay, well let’s get searching!” Webby said gleefully as she skipped into the hallway, the boys following behind.

Louie had a feeling she didn’t get it. Huey was missing. Someone had probably taken him, there had certainly been some sort of struggle. That wasn’t something gleeful. He was glum and quiet as he walked behind her.

Dewey noticed the trudge in his brother’s steps and gently placed a hand on his shoulder, a light squeeze reassuring him that they would do this together. “Hey, Webs?” Dewey called down the hall to the bubbly, pink dressed girl.

“This is kind of serious, I mean...Huey might have been kidnapped. This isn’t just another adventure, it could be super dangerous!”

“Oh,” Webby said, “good point.” She sobered up, looking between the brothers.

“But don’t worry, guys! We’ll find him. Even if something bad happened, it’ll turn out okay.”

“Thanks, Webby.” Louie said quietly.

The three ventured off towards Funzo’s Fun Zone. (Where fun is in the zone!)

When they arrived, the place seemed….quieter than usual. It was strange, especially for a Saturday. Not a single server looked their way as the kids made their way to a back table. Louie began to make a flattering comment to a waitress passing by, but she scurried away, squeaking in nervousness.

"This place is dead," Louie muttered, "Something is wrong here. Maybe that's why Huey…" Nothing could happen to his brother. He would never forgive himself if anything happened to Huey. Maybe everything would be fine but his mind rushed to worst-case scenarios. He thought about someone hurting Huey, or worse, and he just felt sick. Huey was his brother and Louie would die to protect him if he had to.

Webby glanced back at the boys, and for the first time, really noticed the grave and anxious look on Louie’s face.

“Hey, Lou?”

The young duck wasn’t paying much attention. He was too nervous, thinking about whatever could have happened to his oldest brother.

“Louie?”

Louie's head snapped up and he tried to fake a look of, well not confidence but apathy, and yet he couldn't shake his nerves.

"What's up, Webby?"

“You don’t…..”

Webby tried to choose her next words carefully.

“You know this isn’t your fault, right?” she spoke timidly.

Dewey stopped in his tracks.

“Wait, Louie...do you really think that?”

Louie covered his face with one hand.

"No! Of course not! It's just you know if we, if I were a better brother maybe Huey would be with us and not somewhere super dangerous maybe getting chopped into little pieces." Louie should’ve been paying more attention to Huey, then he would know what was happening. He felt incredibly guilty for seeming apathetic in the past about what happened to his brothers. He cared so much and maybe if he had shown that Huey wouldn’t have disappeared alone.

Webby and Dewey looked at each other, not quite sure how to respond to that.

Dewey put a hand on his youngest brother’s shoulder, squeezing gently. Webby did the same.

“This isn’t going to be like....well like when Mom first came back.” Dewey knew that would strike a nerve, but bringing it up even made him wince. He tried to recover his statement, though not very well.

“And that time you were the richest duck in the-”

"Alright, I get it, you don’t have to remind me of every mistake I ever made, I don't want to dwell on my past mistakes right now but I'm serious. Huey is missing. It's not my fault, maybe, but I still should've been able to do something and I can't."

“You just gotta look for the right angles, c’mon!” Dewey shook his brother back and forth vigorously. “You can do- I mean dewey it!” the blue triplet chuckled to himself.

Louie removed himself from his brother's grip.

“Alright, let’s see. Angles, angles…" He looked around Funzo's.

"Hmmm…"

Louie scanned the zone, looking for each possibility between the workers, the kitchen, the arcade, and the playground, for any pesky foes sneaking around.

He snapped his fingers.

“Okay, Here’s the plan. Webs, check the arcade, ship, and ball pit. Pay close attention to the scores of that one pattern game Huey likes to beat everyone at when we come here.”

“Got it,” Webby gave a thumbs up and rushed into the arcade.

“Dewey, ask the staff members if they’ve seen Huey, or anyone suspicious. Try to check the kitchen, see if anything weird is going on in there.”

“On it!” Dewey replied, slicking a hand over his head, and strutting over towards the tables, singing a beat of “Dewey-dewey-dew” to himself.

Louie stood alone then, looking around, whispering to himself, "And Louie-" He didn't get to give himself a task before he was picked up by his hood and spun around by Ma Beagle.

"The green one! I saw him come in with the blue and pink one, too.” Big Time Beagle snickered, rubbing his hands together in evil delight.

“Where are they?" Ma Beagle asked, squinting and looking around.

"Where's Huey?" Louie squeaked, struggling against Ma Beagle's hold.

"You're not the one who gets to ask questions.” Ma Beagle growled. “Boys, find the other two."

Bouncer headed off towards the arcade, Webby just on the other side of the wall. Burger chased after Dewey, right into the kitchen.

“What about me Ma?” Big Time asked impatiently, twiddling his thumbs with an antsy grin.

Ma Beagle rolled her eyes. She knew better than to leave the little green brat alone with her son, as previous events proved Big Time unworthy of the job. She sighed, and rubbed her temple in aggravation.

A loud crash in the kitchen grabbed their attention before Ma Beagle could scold her son. Dewey rolled out of the kitchen, landing flat on his face. He was just about to jump up and make a run for it, but Burger tripped out of the doors, his face covered in pizza sauce and soda. He landed right on the young duck, trapping him.

Ma Beagle smirked, pushing her son off Dewey and grabbing him.

“That’s two!” She snarled, as both boys struggled in her grasp.

“Seriously? The Beagle boys?” Dewey rolled his eyes.

“We’re not up to anything!” Louie desperately tried to lie, "You’re just paranoid because you're old." He got slapped.

“Hey! Don’t treat my brother that wa-” Ma Beagle held Dewey’s beak shut. Dewey tried to signal to Louie, now afraid for both of them. Hopefully Webby wouldn’t get caught and would go get help.

“Quit your yapping!” Ma Beagle snapped.

"Let us go!" Louie fought until he was tied up, his beak also held shut.

The two triplets struggled against the ropes furiously. Dewey’s eyes widened as he looked around, trying to figure out where they were. This place seemed familiar, though he couldn’t remember why. His breath hitched as they were tied up and left in the dark. The middle child wasn’t particularly fond of the dark, especially after the events at Castle McDuck.

Louie began to cry quietly without meaning to, and his tearful state only worsened when Webby was thrown in beside them, also tied up. He'd failed. He was useless and he'd failed. Now his whole family was in danger because he hadn't been able to talk their way out of the problem. This was all his fault.

Dewey noticed his youngest brother’s silent cry. His chest ached, wishing he could help, wishing that he could comfort him, that he could do something to make Louie believe in himself. He had no idea where to go from here. Even worse, no one knew where they were. The thought of never seeing Uncle Scrooge, Uncle Donald, Launchpad, Huey or his mom ever again made him sick. Why hadn’t they told one of the adults? Dewey felt foolish for thinking they could handle this on their own.

That had been Louie's fault too, his call, his decision, and he was arrogant for making it. To think that they could handle this on their own, save Huey on their own, was idiotic. Louie was good at faking confidence. Somehow, this time, he’d pulled his brother and Webby along and now they were all in terrible danger. He glanced at Webby to see if she could get them out of this but she appeared unconscious, no doubt having given whatever unsuspecting Beagle Boy that had grabbed her one doozy of a fight. Louie panicked when he saw that she was hurt and flinched and fought hard against the bindings, finally giving up and hanging his head, ready to succumb to their demise.

Then he heard a familiar voice. A wonderfully familiar voice.

"The boss said I could take over from here." Huey sounded so confident that the Beagle boys standing guard believed him, until they turned around and saw the red triplet. It didn't matter, though, because Huey shot them each with a tranquilizer gun.

"I don't exactly know what you three are doing here but let's try and get going before someone comes looking for us." Huey untied his brothers and was pulled into a big hug, first by Louie, then by Dewey. Louie only cried harder, this time from relief, as he held onto Huey.

“Whoa, Louie, it’s alright! I’m okay, guys.” Huey squeezed his brothers tightly.

“What the heck happened to you?” Dewey asked, irritated at first, but overwhelmed with relief that his brother wasn’t hurt. “We thought you were kidnapped! Or worse!”

The boys jumped as they heard a groan from Webby, who was still a bit woozy from the fight.

"Well," Huey said slowly, "I was. But, sort of on purpose. I set a trap, trying to get into F.O.W.L. You guys would never believe what I've found but-" Huey looked around nervously, "That's for another time. Webby, hang on to us, we've got to run.”

"You couldn't have left a note?!" Louie hissed.

"I did. Did you guys not find it?" Louie facepalmed. They could have avoided this whole thing by looking harder for a note? He could hardly believe it. Another consequence of just rushing in, of pretending to be confident without stopping to think first. He wiped the tears out of his eyes as they ran, not knowing what to do anymore.

“Uh no?! Obviously not!” Dewey groaned, trying his best to hang on to Webby and keep up with his brothers at the same time. Huey gave an exasperated sigh.

"Don't sigh like that," Louie snapped, "we came here to save you. It's not our fault that you ended up saving us."

“Well it’s not my fault you guys got captured either!” Huey shot back. That was like a slap in the face to Louie. He bit back tears and was ready to make another sharp remark towards Huey when the boys’ exit was blocked by a large rooster with a sharp beak made out of metal.

“And just where do you think you’re going?”

Louie looked around.

"Huey, I don't think we're in the ball pit at Funzo's anymore." Playing dumb worked about 50% of the time.

“You’re darn right! You’re in Steelbeak’s house now!” The villain cackled.

"This is your house? It's nice but we shouldn't be here. Our Uncle says we're not really supposed to talk to strangers and we're really not supposed to be in your house, so it's really nice to meet you, Mr. Steelbeak, sir, but we’ve got to get going!" Louie saluted the villain and tried to walk out, acting fully confident.

Huey resisted the urge to facepalm, and tried to play along.

“Um, yeah, according to the JWG, 46% of kidnappings happen by talking to strangers, so...bye!” Huey ducked under Steelbeak’s arm, making a run for it, and Louie and Webby, who had recovered save for a bit of a bruised knee and a few scratches, followed suit.

Dewey however….

“Wait a minute, aren’t you from the Double O Duck simulation game? But how did you-”

"Dewey come on, we can't talk to strangers!" Louie called, ducking in long enough to grab his brother and drag him away. After that, there was no looking back.

The kids sped towards the bus stop, catching the bus right before the doors shut.

Dewey and Webby watched through the back window as Steelbeak tried to run after them, but was stopped by… Well, they weren’t sure who, but Webby could’ve sworn it was Gandra.

The young ducks slowly climbed the front steps of the mansion, trying to catch their breath.

"You can't just disappear like that," Louie said suddenly, turning on Huey, "We were worried sick. I thought you might be dead!"

“Yeah, but I’m not. I can’t believe you didn’t see the note! I left it on your daily can of Pep!” Huey crossed his arms as they entered the foyer.

"I didn't see it! I didn't drink Pep today, is that a freaking crime? You should've told us you were gonna go try to be the hero!"

"I didn't try to be the hero, I am. I saved all of you from something that could've been avoided if you'd just tried a little harder to find my note!" Huey spat back.

Louie threw up his hands in exasperation.

"Why did we even try to save you?" But once the words were out of his mouth he regretted them.

"I'm sorry. Huey, I don't mean that, just… You've got to understand that we were really worried. We lost mom once. I can't lose you too."

Huey stepped back, a strange combination of hurt, guilt, and surprise weighing him down. He clenched his fists.

“Do you think I wasn’t worried? When I saw that you guys had been kidnapped? At least I can take responsibility for my actions!” Huey had never been this angry before.

“Alright, both of you just chill out!” Dewey exclaimed, stepping between his brothers.

Huey stepped back and closed his eyes. He took a deep breath.

“You’re right. I’m sorry.” he said quietly, barely glancing at Louie and opting to stare at the floor instead.

"I said I was sorry," Louie muttered, crossing his arms and hugging himself, "I thought we were doing the right thing, going after you. I'm sorry we didn't find your note. I'm sorry we worried you. Whatever. I'm sorry." He sounded bitter, still, turning and heading upstairs to their trashed room. They'd nearly lost Huey. Louie had already been feeling like a failure. Huey had just made it worse.

Huey groaned and ran a hand through his hair out of frustration.

“After all I do for him,” he muttered.

“Whoa hang on a minute,” Dewey grabbed his older brother’s arm before he could walk off.

“That was a bit harsh Hue.” Webby nodded.

“Louie was doing his best. He did get us past Steelbeak after all. We might not have made it home at all if it wasn’t for Louie. We were trying to help you. And after what happened with mom? Don’t you remember what that felt like?”

Huey stopped. He crossed his arms and nodded solemnly. When they found out what had happened to their mom....Well, he didn’t show it, but Huey had taken it pretty hard. He found it more difficult to trust people, even his own family. He became more independent. And when their mother returned, all he wanted to do was prove himself. He was just as good at solving mysteries as his brothers. Even though he couldn’t always talk his way out of situations. Not like Louie could.

“I….I didn’t think about it like that. I’m sorry Dewey.” The brothers hugged. Dewey punched his older brother lightheartedly on the shoulder.

“Thanks, but I’m not the only one you need to say sorry to.”

Huey nodded and looked towards the staircase that led up to their room.

Louie was sitting in his room, on his bed, playing with an old toy truck he'd gotten as a little kid. It was one of the few toys he'd had growing up that was his alone. Everything else he'd shared with his brothers, and not just toys, worries, heartbreaks, happiness. They went through all of it together. He understood Huey wanting to prove himself but after everything that they had been through, he couldn't help worry that he was losing his brother. And if he wasn't losing Huey to some secret organization, then maybe he was losing Huey to growing up and growing apart, and that scared him even more.

A knock on the door drew him from his thoughts. Huey gave a sympathetic smile as he entered, rubbing the back of his neck and plucking his hat from the ground.

“Hey Louie.”

Louie didn’t say anything.

Huey stepped over a pile of books and comics that had half-heartedly been pushed out of the way of the triple bunk. He took a breath, staring at his feet and fidgeting with his hands.

“Look, I need to apologize. I’m sorry I made you worried. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you what I was doing. I’m sorry I assumed you would be able to follow my plan without any explanation.” Huey paused, and looked up at Louie.

But most of all, I’m sorry I didn’t see how much I needed you before.”

Louie looked up in shock.

"You… I… What? I failed you. I didn't see your note, I let the others get captured, hurt even, I couldn't protect them or you. You don't need me…"

“What are you talking about? Louie, of course I need you! If I had brought you with me, maybe I could have avoided getting you guys captured in the first place. I can’t do everything you can, you’re the only person I know who can act dumber than the bad guys and still outsmart them!” Huey seated himself next to his youngest brother, gently putting his arm around Louie.

“You’re my brother, I’m always gonna need you.”

Louie smiled a little, leaning into the hug, "Thank you. I'm always going to need you too."

“Awww guys!” Dewey jumped onto Louie’s bed with arms spread wide, knocking the triplets over. The three laughed, with an unspoken promise to never abandon each other again, and the knowledge that they would always be there for each other.

[niuniente]

“Hordak! I need you to come with me to an upper level. The calculations I made look somehow odd, but I have been staring at them for so long I need a fresh pair of eyes to see what’s the issue.”

Hordak lifted his gaze up from the new transmitter model he had been working on since the early morning to see Entrapta hanging upside down from an air ventilation pipe just next to his head. It was nothing new that she barked in and interrupted his work, but for Hordak, it was never an issue. Entrapta never bothered him with non-sense stuff like Horde staff did, but if she wanted your attention and help, there was always a solid, reasonable reason for it.

“Very well.” Hordak simply said, placing his work on the table. He straightened his back and turned to face Entrapta. “To which level?”

“I can take us there if we take the elevator,” Entrapta said dropping down on the floor with the help of her outstretched hair. She let them to an elevator – Hordak allowing her to push the door button, he knew just how much Entrapta liked pushing buttons – and then followed her inside when the doors opened with a bright jingle. Something Entrapta had installed because she didn’t only like tiny food but tiny sounds, too.

“Let’s go!” Entrapta declared loudly and ushered Hordak to press the button number 5 down. After all, it would have been rude of her to press and push all the buttons during this trip. Hordak needed some fun, too.

The elevator whirred and murmured, jerking softly into movement.

“I take that the formula we spoke about yesterday is the problem?” Hordak inquired. Entrapta crossed her arms over her chest and pouted her lips.

“It’s a far more challenging alone than I thought. The denominator keeps---"

The elevator suddenly halted after floor 3’s sign, and then jerked down with a loud metallic screech, taking both Hordak and Entrapta by surprise. Entrapta fell down on her bottom and tried to get up with the help of Hordak’s outstretched arm, only for the elevator to jerk again – this time upwards - sending her tiny body to a direct collision with Hordak’s chest. He protected Entrapta from falling on her knees with a firm hold on her upper arms.

“What is this?” Entrapta gasped, as the elevator stopped completely. Its light blinked ominously above them.

“Looks like—” Hordak began, still holding Entrapta against him, when the light died out. A few odd mechanical sounds echoed from the sides of the elevator. A small emergency light lit up, illuminating the elevator with very dim cold white light.

“----like I forgot a trap”, he finished.

Entrapta took a look at Hordak’s face, backing away from his hold.

“A trap? I didn’t know we had booby traps here.”

Hordak’s ears drooped for a second. He turned around and headed to elevator’s button panel, opening it with a short yank.

“I had the place trapped by my own hands, alone, without telling anyone,” he murmured, tinkering with wires inside. “Don’t worry. It takes about an hour for the elevator to move again after I’m done with wiring it. That’s safer and I don’t want to damage Fright Zone’s properties by breaking this elevator down. Imp might have fitted out from via the ceiling port to fly to the main controls to get the elevator moving again but…”

Entrapta walked next to Hordak, offering him different working tools she pulled out from the depths of her hair. She inspected Hordak with a concerned look in her eyes.

“You set traps alone? Is it something classified? Are you in danger?” she asked

Hordak grunted deeply.

“We all are.”

Entrapta gasped, eyes widening in a second.

“Eh! Is it the Princess Alliance?! Your brothers?! A mutated evil plant-animal hybrid from the Whispering Woods?! If it is the hybrid, please let me catch it with you! I want to study it!” she babbled.

Hordak handed a screwdriver back to Entrapta and she switched it to a smaller one. So small that it would have fitted into her hands better than into his.

“It’s that sneaking criminal, and I plan to catch him in action. That some sort of a magical creature you told about.”

“Eh, I don’t remember anything like that…” Entrapta scratched her head both with her free hand and the free tip of her long pigtail.

“The one who sneaks in people’s houses and bases. The spying wrench! I will not let him to take any of Horde’s secrets with him. Anyone, who steals information from me about me, my past, my projects, will be severely punished with most horrible things they can ever imagine,” Hordak sneered, seemingly delighted by his own mental images of whatever horrors he would inflict on the trespasser.

A light of excitement lit up in Entrapta’s eyes and she took a sharp inhale.

“Oooh, if you are planning on making torture devices, I’d be glad to help you out! I’ve wanted to try out what kind of robotic technology an Etherian body can take until it breaks! …But, didn’t you say he was a magical creature? Does it have an Etherian body?”

Hordak took a surprised look at Entrapta, closing the button panel.

“Well, that’s what you told to Imp. I overheard it the other day.”

Entrapta crossed her arms over her chest and tilted her head in a confusion, brows knitting together.

“I’m sorry, I can’t remember. When was it?”

“Some weeks ago. Can’t remember what you called him. The magical fat red creature which spies on Etherian folk and breaks in their houses. He’s a danger for the Horde if he gets in here. His magical ability allows him to grand wishes so when I catch him, we can dissect him and see where he gets his power!” Hordak was clearly excited of his evil plan.

“Ah!” Entrapta yelled, eyes widening. “You mean Santa Claus?!”

“Yes?” Hordak replied with a guess. He honestly didn’t remember what Entrapta had called the mysterious creature.

She sighed, back pressing against the wall as she let her body slide on the floor. “Oh, Hordak. Santa Claus is a story we tell for kids. It’s a way to keep them nice and obedient over the course of one year and if they are nice, their parents and family members get them presents and say they are from Santa.” She kept sighing.

Hordak’s face dropped, together with his pointy ears.

“A lie? Treachery? How’s that a tradition in Etheria?” his voice almost cracked with a disappointment which reflected outwards from his long face.

Entrapda waved her hand in the air nonchalantly.

“Trust me, kids love it. They always love good stories. I did, too, when I was little and until I learned the harsh truth of Santa Claus.” She let her hand drop into her lap. “I was telling about Santa Claus to Imp because I wanted to surprise him with a present which just magically appears to him. I told the same story for Emily and boy, was she excited! There’s something mystical when you know you’re going to get a present from this benevolent being at the end of the year.”

Slowly Hordak sat next to Entrapta, his eyes fixated on her.

“Benevolent? A blackmailer, that’s what he is,” he snorted.

“Now, now, Hordak, Santa Claus is not a blackmailer,” Entrapta scolded him. “He is a judge! If you are kind, you get a present. If you are a little jerk, he gives you nothing.”

Hordak’s lips pressed together and he fell into a short silence.

“….Seems fair enough.”

“Sorry, you made all the booby traps in vain. I hope you didn’t work too hard and too long on the traps… Oh but well, at least we’re well protected against trespassers now, eh?” Entrapta tried to cheer Hordak up.

Hordak said nothing. Just pulled his legs up to his chin and looked miffed - and more or less disappointed. Entrapta patted his thigh.

“…But, it would be nice if there was someone like that who could grand you your wishes. Think about it! You could ask anything! Unlimited knowledge, unlimited recourses for research, health, money, travels across the galaxies, time traveling, hundreds of portals leading to different corners of the known and unknown universe… Anything!” she sighed dreamily. “And to get that all just by being nice. I have been nice, haven’t I?”

Hordak’s head turned to Entrapta.

“Yes, very. You have done excellent job with our projects. You treat Imp well, too,” he complimented her.

“And in my books, you have been kind, too. Sure, you yell at your subordinates and kinda scare them, but only if they deserve it. Haha, in a way, I guess you’re the Santa!” Entrapta elbowed Hordak to his side playfully, grinning at her own joke.

Hordak snorted in amusement to Entrapta’s comment but didn’t shoot it down. He turned his head forward, absently staring in front of him.

“What would you wish if you could wish anything from Santa?” Entrapta asked, sliding herself closer to Hordak, almost gluing her short body against his side. Her eyes were fixated on his face as she was curiously waiting for an answer.

Hordak’s initial hum was followed by a sharp hiss.

“…To be worthy,” he said.

Entrapta groaned and shook his upper arm with both hands.

“No, Hordak!” she whined with eyes closed tightly. “You are already worthy! Think big! BIG! You can get anything you ever dream of and want from Santa!”

Hordak’s ears perked up. He looked like he had realized something.

“I…. I could ask Santa to give me power to conquer and rule Etheria?” he murmured unsurely, his chin rising up from his knees.

“See! Now you are thinking big!” Entrapta rejoiced.

“Interesting. I have to think about my wish,” he said. “And you?” Hordak’s head turned to Entrapta. “What would you want?”

“Me?” Entrapta asked, sinking lower into a sloughed position. Her lips pressed together in a deep thought as she hummed and tilted her head from side to side, thinking. “Well… There’s something I’d want but… It’s kind of a silly one,” she began after a while of head tilting. “I mean, sure, I’d want to get all the knowledge of the world – or that’s what I thought – but then I thought ‘Entrapta. If you get all the knowledge in the world, there’s nothing to be learned or discovered after that anymore.’ How boring a life like that would be? No scientific breakthroughs, no new information, no new discoveries, no theories to be proven or shoot down… Nothing. Just… knowledge. Unlimited knowledge. How boring.”

“Go on,” Hordak urged her.

“Please promise you won’t laugh?” Entrapta whirled her fingers around one another, getting a firm, very officially looking military nod from Hordak. “I… I wish I was marked. Like the rest of the Etherians are.”

Hordak’s head tilted to left.

“Hmm, I did see your medical report after you joined us. It did say ‘Unmarked’. I didn’t pay attention to it as your report was otherwise fine. Perhaps I shouldn’t have overlooked it?” he murmured but Entrapta disagreed with him.

“No, no, it’s fine! It’s fine. It doesn’t affect me or my performance in any way! It just… makes me a defect…” Entrapta’s voice got quieter the longer she spoke. She turned away from Hordak, and pulled her knees up to her chin, hugging her legs. Her head pressed nose deep between knees.

Hordak’s legs straightened in front of him

“You are not a defect!” he said sternly. “You are… e-enough,” he added with a small stutter.

“Aaw, that’s sweet from you, but unlike you, I am a defect. I… I have not met anyone else who is unmarked…” Entrapta sounded sad.

Hordak’s head pressed closer to Entrapta’s face.

“What do you mean?” he asked right above her head, so very close from her.

“Just what I said,” she circled the subject. She gave an upward quick glance at Hordak. “In Etheria, everyone is born marked. The mark can be anything from a tiny spot to a bigger sigil type of a sign, but it is easy to spot and differ from moles and other birthmarks,” Entrapta explained, taking another quick glance at Hordak.

Hordak’s hummed.

“Hmm, I have seen some Horde soldiers with marks on their faces, necks, palms and fingers. I never paid any attention to those. What’s their function?”

Entrapta sighed, leaning backwards; her head bumping against the elevator’s wall.

“They are guide marks to find your people. Both partners and friends. There are multiple combinations for the mark matches. Kind of like… finding your own tribe?” she gestured the air with her hands vaguely. “Something like that.”

Hordak listened to Entrapta quietly.

“…And you are missing this mark?”

“Yeah, big time!” she laughed, but it came out a lot weaker than she had anticipated. “In Etherian standards that means that I don’t belong here, you know? That I don’t get to have friends or a partner or anything like that, because for what I know, I’m the only unmarked one in the whole Etheria.” Her lips pursed together, eyes getting forlorn. “I mean, I’m fine being alone. I’m used to that. I have never had anyone besides my parents and my servants.  My servants stayed with me even when we weren’t marked for one another – they were marked to my parents, not to me – so they are kind of like my friends but… not friends at the same time. It’s… kind of…well… They were just serving me and treating me nicely because of the contract they had with my parents.”

“All life in all galaxies is based on interaction with others,” Hordak cut in when he noticed just how gloomy Entrapta’s eyes had gotten. “I suspect Etheria works the same way; people yearn for each other’s company. The marks can’t be that influential, though. If they had lots of significance, Horde wouldn’t be able to operate. Putting together people with wrong markings would let to chaos and disorder based on what you have just told me.”

“It’s not that simple, Hordak,” Entrapta said. “Different marks can work together and be around one another but the true loyalty is achieved when the marks match. Like, when you put together a team A and B and one of them doesn’t function properly. They argue, can’t follow orders, mess things up. That’s because there’s imbalance between the marks. Even one or two wrong marks in a group can cause problems.”

Hordak took suddenly a hold of Entrapta’s hand, pulling it closer to his face.

“But wouldn’t a lack of a mark make you superior to others, then?” he muttered, inspecting and turning her palm in his hold slowly from side to side, tracking her palms lines with his fingertips. “Not being affected by any marks, by any mismatching combinations, ever in your life. No one to control you, to rub you the wrong way just by existing. Free from all chains and restrictions.” He turned to look at Entrapta, her eyes keenly staring back at him. “If that isn’t perfection, I don’t know what is.”

“Aaw, shucks, Hordak, you are getting really good with your pep talks,” Entrapta sniffed. Oddly enough, Hordak didn’t blush this time.

“Maybe you really do not belong here. With your intelligence, your talent, it would be easy to conquer the planets, the galaxies. Investigate them, create new scientific breakthroughs. Create portals from another end of the universe to the other. Built spaceships, bent the laws of the universe. Perhaps…” Hordak fall into a silence for a second, thinking. “Perhaps you were meant to travel the galaxies instead of getting stuck here on Etheria. Perhaps your… friends, your group, is somewhere else. Does it have to be Etherian?”

“I… I don’t know but your theory of it not needing to be an Etherian connection has a point,” Entrapta whispered, entwining her small fingers with Hordak’s. “Right now, I’m coming very well along with an alien from another planet.”

“Right,” Hordak cleared his throat, blushing. “Besides,” he swallowed, “If it makes you feel better, I’m not marked either. Imp’s not marked and for what I know, Emily doesn’t have any marks on her, does she?”

It looked like a big light pulp switched on in Entrapta’s head. Her eyes widened, lips parting to a small gasp.

“You are right!” she breathed out, her body jerking up from the sloughed position. “We’re unmarked, all of us!”

Hordak smiled at Entrapta, waving their joined hands in the air.

“The Unmarked Group of Four Failures”, he stated, and it was perhaps the first time ever Hordak had let out a joke from his mouth.

“I was planning on gluing a sticker on Emily, but she refused but I don’t think stickers can be counted as markings,” Entrapta muttered, getting a short, amused chuckle from Hordak. She looked at invisible spot in front of her

“…Hordak, now that I think of it, think this all,” Entrapta began and her hand squeezed tighter around Hordak’s. “Perhaps I was meant to come here. To the Fright Zone and meet you. Perhaps…” she turned to Hordak, cheeks slightly rosy, “I was meant to meet you. Another one without a mark, like me. Hordak. My lab partner.”

Hordak blushed furiously and quickly turned his head away to hide his face from Entrapta, ears drooping. He didn’t, however, let go of her hand.

“And Hordak, Hordak!” Entrapta continued, very, very excited now. “The portal brought you here! Suddenly, just like that!” She got on her knees and peeked to take a look at Hordak’s blushing face. “Hordak! This was meant to be! A scientific theory of our destined encounter which I have all the evidence to! How fascinating! How… how…” she stopped so suddenly, her words trailing off so quickly from the excited babble that Hordak had to turn to check if she was alright.

“Entrapta?”

“How nice,” she sighed with a wide smile spreading on her happy looking face. Her eyes beamed. “How truly nice. We’re meant to be!”

She let go of Hordak’s hand and curled on the floor on her side, head in Hordak’s slap all to his surprise. She closed her eyes, sighing.

“Now you’ll never get rid of me, Hordak”, she announced and snuggled herself into a more comfortable position, like Imp when it sought a warm lap to curl into.

Hordak said nothing but he never needed to.  Just placed his hand on top of happy Entrapta’s head and gave her a small smile.

[idkwhoiamanymorebutwtf]

“Lady In Waiting”

We all know that Cassandra is Rapunzel’s Lady In Waiting, and most people have a...basic understanding of what that entails. (take care of the person they serve, duh). However a lot of what it means to be in this position can explain some of Cass’s behaviors. We need to answer some questions about the job, though.

1.) What exactly does a Lady In Waiting do anyway?

Well we don’t really need to look at what they would historically do for answers to this one, I mean we see Cass perform her duties in show.

We see Cassandra do things such as sewing, washing clothing, and just generally cleaning up the place. Now I found this a bit odd since, from what i’e a Lady In Waiting is generally supposed to solely take care of, from what i’ve gathered at least, one member of a royal family, and while Cassandra is the one person on the staff who does take care of Rapunzel, she also seems to serve everyone else around too. She’s been shown sewing and cleaning dresses that clearly don’t belong to Rapunzel- or even Arianna for that matter- and she cleans up after everyone in the castle as well. It's pretty clear that she’s not only Rapunzel’s personal Lady In Waiting, but kinda just a handmaiden in general who serves the whole royal family and maybe even some other people too. Cassandra not only cleans and sews and brushes Rapunzel’s hair and get’s her ready for things, etc, but she also serves as a personal confidant for Rapunzel. Of course that could just because of their friendship, but with her responsibilities and all, taking time to help Rapunzel with things that probably aren’t in her job description, as well as offering advice....well dealing with Rapunzel’s personal problems probably add to her workload tbh. 

2.) Where In Society Does The Princess’s Lady In Waiting Rank?

Well, the truth is, from what I've gathered, the Lady In Waiting of a princess tends to be a noble woman. However I have to think that Cassandra may be an exception to that. First off, just look at her parentage. Yes, she’s the daughter of the Captain Of The Royal Guards, which I could say would raise her ranking, except for the fact that Tangled is clearly based on Germany, and while the exact year isn’t clear, and I've seen numbers ranging from 1780-1840, you have to realize, in Germany actual adoption wasn’t actually a thing until the year 1900. Well, adult adoption and simple adoption, that is. Full child adoption was not a thing until 1970, which is certainly outside of our time range by quite a long time. Which means it’s highly likely that Cassandra wouldn’t be legally recognized as the daughter of the captain, but as an illegitimate bastard orphan with her only known biological parent being a known and hated criminal. So basically, there’s no chance Cassandra could possibly be considered nobility. In fact, her being considered an illegitimate child and an orphan could very well be how she wound up as a servant in the first place. Many orphans around this time period in Europe were only legally cared for by an orphanage (or a foster parent if they’re lucky, which would not have given them any legal recognition as having a parent, btw, so being fostered won’t stop you from being labeled a bastard. So while I do not doubt Cass could have been one of the lucky kids who were actually fostered since of course the Captain loves her as any parent loves their kid, legally speaking it does not make a difference, and so it would not make a difference class wise either.) until around twelve years old, and after that many of them were made to be servants wherever a servant is needed. Which could very well explain how Cass wound up as a handmaiden, since it doesn’t feel like the type of job she’d pick for herself, but it could very well have been chosen for her. Legally, in some areas of Germany, it was possible to adopt adults around the time Tangled could take place, however even if we say that somehow the stars aligned and Cassie was a very, very unlikely circumstance where she managed to get legally adopted by her dad and have all the benefits a legitimate ‘natural’ daughter would have (which is, by the way, very unlikely), she still wouldn’t be considered nobility. Royal guards aren’t nobility and their families certainly aren’t either. And there are only two types of servants I've heard of. The types that are just barely below their boss class-wise, the the types that are at the very bottom of the social hierarchy. Cassandra is, again, legally an illegitimate bastard orphan servant girl, so it’s just not looking good for her. And the people around her seem to agree.

Yes, neither of these are people within Corona, however they seem to use her title as Lady In Waiting to mock her. They’re warriors, and nobles are typically above warriors, so just this alone should solidify that Cassandra’s not the high class type of Lady In Waiting. She’s servant class all the way through. In fact, she’s lower than most people. Even back in season one her title is used to mock her, during Challenge of the Brave, people laugh at her for being nothing more than the princess’s servant and talk down to her. Cassandra is very clearly at the bottom the the social hierarchy. 

3.) How much is a Lady In Waiting paid? Are they paid?

All my sources say they don’t make money. At all. Room and board are normally covered by their ‘employers’, but the sad truth is that they don’t actually have salary’s or wages...at all. At least in real life they don’t. And you could argue that maybe it’s different in Corona, since it’s only based on a real place, and doesn’t have to follow strictly the history of said place. However there’s literally no evidence that Cassandra is paid..anything. Not even a passing comment. I don’t think I've ever even seen her use money, to be completely honest? And she’s definitely not being paid during season two, even if she were in season one, which again, I doubt it.

Now anyone who thinks Cass turning against Rapunzel and the other’s, consider her other options. Continue to be an unpaid servant for the rest of her life or go move into a convent (there weren’t many places willing to hire bastard orphans who had a treasonous kidnapper as a mother). Tell me either of those were okay options right now. Neither was turning ‘evil’ but literally what did you want her to do? And she’s only doing bad things because she’s been coerced by someone taking advantage of her in her weakest, traumatized, confused state and manipulating her completely, which seriously, she’s so damaged that of course she’s an easy target for manipulation.

(People have been pointing out in the comments that these things aren't necessarily the same in Corona as in actual Germany since it's a fantasy show with a setting based off of Germany, and yes, as I said in the post, you can argue that things could be different in Corona, however most of these points are backed up, especially Cassandra being low class, when you really analyze the small scenes of the show and what they mean on a larger scale. I'm also inclined to believe Cassandra is paid like a normal lady in waiting (i.e not at all) since she lives in the castle and they were given room and board, just not actual wages, and since Cass is getting room and board and we don't see her get paid or ever hear it mentioned....one can only assume she's treated like any real life handmaiden would be)

[blackkudos]

Lisa Lopes

Lisa Nicole Lopes (May 27, 1971 – April 25, 2002), better known by her stage name Left Eye, was an American rapper, singer, music producer, and dancer. Lopes was a member of the R&B girl group TLC, alongside Tionne "T-Boz" Watkins and Rozonda "Chilli" Thomas. Besides rapping and singing background vocals on TLC recordings, Lopes was one of the creative forces behind the group. She received more co-writing credits than the other members. She also designed the outfits and staging for the group and contributed to the group's image, album titles, artworks, and music videos. Through her work with TLC, Lopes won four Grammy Awards.

During her brief solo career, Lopes scored two US top 10 singles with "Not Tonight" and "U Know What's Up", as well as one UK number-one single with "Never Be the Same Again", the latter a collaboration with Melanie C of the British girl group Spice Girls. She also produced another girl group, Blaque, who scored a platinum album and two US top 10 hits. Lopes remains the only member of TLC to have released a solo album.

On April 25, 2002, Lopes was killed in a car crash while organizing charity work in Honduras. She swerved off the road to avoid hitting another vehicle, and was thrown from her car. She was working on a documentary at the time of her death, which was released as The Last Days of Left Eye and aired on VH1 in May 2007.

Life and career

1971–1990: Childhood

Lopes was born in 1971 in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, the daughter of Wanda Denise (née Andino), a seamstress, and Ronald Lopes Sr., a US Army staff sergeant, who was of African-American descent. Lisa had a younger brother, Ronald Jr., and a younger sister, Raina Anitra (her nickname goes by Reigndrop). Lopes said her father was "very strict, very domineering" and that he treated the family like they were in "boot camp". He was also a "talented musician" who played the harmonica, clarinet, piano, and saxophone.

Lopes' parents separated when she was still in school, and she was raised by her paternal grandmother during the later years of her childhood. She began playing with a toy keyboard at 5 years old, and later composed her own songs. By age 10, she formed the musical trio The Lopes Kids with her siblings, with whom she sang gospel songs at local events and churches. She attended the Philadelphia High School for Girls.

1990–1998: TLC

In late 1990, having heard of an open casting call for a new girl group through her then-boyfriend, Lopes moved to Atlanta to audition. Originally starting as a female trio called 2nd Nature, the group was renamed TLC, derived from the first initials of its members at the time: Tionne Watkins, Lisa Lopes and Crystal Jones. Things did not work out with Jones, and TLC's manager Perri "Pebbles" Reid brought in Damian Dame backup dancer Rozonda Thomas as a third member of the group. To preserve the band's original name, Thomas needed a name starting with C, which is how she became "Chilli," a name chosen by Lopes. Watkins became T-Boz, derived from the first letter of her first name and "Boz" (slang for "boss"). Lopes was renamed "Left Eye" after a compliment from New Edition member Michael Bivins who once told her he was attracted to her because of her left eye, which was more slanted than the right eye. Lopes emphasized her nickname by wearing a pair of glasses with the right lens covered by a condom, in keeping with the group's support of safe sex, wearing a black stripe under her left eye, and eventually getting her left eyebrow pierced.

The group arrived on the music scene in 1992 with the album Ooooooohhh... On the TLC Tip. With four hit singles, it sold six million copies worldwide, leading to the group becoming a household name. Two years later CrazySexyCool was released, selling over 23 million copies worldwide. TLC's third album, FanMail, was released in 1999 and sold over 14 million copies worldwide. Its title was a tribute to TLC's loyal fans and the sleeve contained the names of hundreds of them as a "thank you".

During the recording of FanMail, a public conflict began amongst the members of the group. In the May 1999 issue of Vibemagazine, Lopes said, "I've graduated from this era. I cannot stand 100 percent behind this TLC project and the music that is supposed to represent me." In response to Lopes' comments, Watkins and Thomas stated to Entertainment Weekly that Lopes "doesn't respect the whole group" and "Left Eye is only concerned with Left Eye." In response, Lopes sent a reply through Entertainment Weekly issuing a "challenge" to Watkins and Thomas to release solo albums and let the public decide who was the "greatest" member of TLC:

I challenge Tionne Watkins (T-Boz) and Rozonda Thomas (Chilli) to an album entitled "The Challenge"... a 3-CD set that contains three solo albums. Each [album]... will be due to the record label by October 1, 2000... I also challenge Dallas 'The Manipulator' Austin to produce all of the material and do it at a fraction of his normal rate. As I think about it, I'm sure LaFace would not mind throwing in a $1.5 million prize for the winner.

T-Boz and Chilli declined to take up the challenge, though Lopes always maintained it was a great idea. Things were heated between the ladies for some time, with Thomas speaking out against Lopes, calling her antics "selfish", "evil", and "heartless". TLC then addressed these struggles by saying that they are very much like sisters who have their disagreements every now and then as Lopes explained, "It's deeper than a working relationship. We have feelings for each other, which is why we get so mad at each other. I usually say that you cannot hate someone unless you love them. So, we love each other. That's the problem."

1998–2002: Solo career

In 1998, Lopes hosted the short-lived MTV series, The Cut, in which a list of aspiring pop stars, rappers, and rock bands competed against each other in front of judges. The show's winner, which ended up being a male-female rap duo named Silky, was promised a record deal and funding to produce a music video, which would then enter MTV's heavy rotation. A then-unknown Anastacia finished in third place, but ended up securing a record deal after Lopes and the show's three judges were impressed by her performance.

After the release of FanMail, Lopes began to expand her solo career. She became a featured rapper on several singles, including Spice Girl Melanie C's "Never Be the Same Again", which topped the charts in 35 countries, including the United Kingdom. She was also featured on "U Know What's Up", the first single from Donell Jones' second album, Where I Wanna Be, and she rapped a verse in "Space Cowboy" with NSYNC on their 2000 album, No Strings Attached. On October 4, 2000, Lopes co-hosted the UK's MOBO Awards with Trevor Nelson, where she also performed "U Know What's Up" with Jones. She also collaborated on "Gimme Some" by Toni Braxton for her 2000 album The Heat. She had previously featured on Keith Sweat's song "How Do You Like It?". In 2001, she appeared in a commercial for the fashion brand Gap. In July 2001, Lopes appeared on the singers' edition of Who Wants to Be a Millionaire along with Joey McIntyre, Tyrese, Nick Lachey, and Lee Ann Womack. She dropped the $125,000 question and won $32,000 for her charity. After her death in 2002, the episode she appeared in was shown and was dedicated to her.

Lopes created Left Eye Productions to discover new talent. She mentored the R&B trio Blaque, and helped them secure a record deal with Columbia Records. Their self-titled debut album was executive-produced by Lopes, who also made a cameo appearance in their music video "808" and also rapped in their second music video "I Do". Lopes was also developing and promoting another new band called Egypt. They worked with Lopes on her second album under her new nickname, N.I.N.A., meaning New Identity Not Applicable.

In 1996, Lopes created the UNI Studios for the purpose of recording solo projects. Lopes' family opened the studio to the public. Her brother Ronald is the general manager of the studio. Lopes had a dream of making new artists able to record music at a low cost, in a high-end studio at her house. Her family continues to operate it and fill it with new equipment.

Supernova

Lopes spent much of her free time after the conclusion of TLC's first headlining tour, the FanMail Tour, recording her debut solo album, Supernova. It includes a song titled "A New Star is Born", which is dedicated to her late father. She told MTV News:

That track is dedicated to all those that have loved ones that have passed away. It's saying that there is no such thing as death. We can call it transforming for a lack of better words, but as scientists would say, 'Every atom that was once a star is now in you.' It's in your body. So, in the song I pretty much go along with that idea. ... I don't care what happens or what people think about death, it doesn't matter. We all share the same space.

Other tracks covered other personal issues, including her relationship with NFL football player Andre Rison. In 1994, before the start of Rison's fifth and final season with the Falcons, Lopes accidentally burned down Rison Atlanta mansion. Among the album's 13 tracks was also a posthumous duet with Tupac Shakur that was assembled from the large cache of unreleased recordings done prior to his murder in 1996. Initially scheduled for release on a date to coincide with the 11th anniversary of her grandfather's death, Arista Records decided to delay and then cancel the American release. The album was eventually released in August 2001 in different foreign countries. The Japan import includes a bonus track called "Friends", which would later be sampled for "Give It to Me While It's Hot" on TLC's fourth album 3D.

N.I.N.A.

After numerous talks with Death Row Records CEO Suge Knight, Lopes severed her solo deal with Arista (despite remaining signed to the label as a member of TLC) and signed with Knight's Death Row Records in January 2002, intending to record a second solo album under the pseudonym "N.I.N.A." (New Identity Not Applicable). She was recording with David Bowie for the project, whom she was also trying to get involved with the fourth TLC album. The project was also to include several songs recorded with Ray J along with close friend Missy Elliott. After Lopes' death in April 2002, Death Row Records still had plans to complete and release the album (unfinished at the time of Lopes' death) in October 2002, but the album was cancelled for unknown reasons. In 2011, some tracks from the album were uploaded onto YouTube featuring artists from Tha Row Records. Lopes's unreleased songs were also sampled by TLC for their fourth album 3Dafter she died. Another track, "Too Street 4 T.V" (featuring Danny Boy), was released on the soundtrack to the 2003 film Dysfunktional Family.

2008: Posthumous honorary album

In 2008, Lopes' family decided to work with producers at Surefire Music Group to create a posthumous album in her honor, Eye Legacy. Originally set to be released October 28, 2008, the release date was pushed back to November 11, then to January 27, 2009. The song 'Neva Will Eye Eva' and "Crank It", both feature and were co-produced by Lopes' sister Raina "Reigndrop" Lopes. The first official single from the album, "Let's Just Do It", was released on January 13, 2009 and features Missy Elliott and TLC. The second official single, "Block Party", features Lil Mama. The album largely consists of reworked versions of tracks from the Supernova album. In November 2009, Forever... The EP was released which contained international bonus tracks not used on the Eye Legacy album. The EP was only available to download. An unreleased track featuring Lopes was uploaded to SoundCloud on the eve of the 10-year anniversary of her death by Block Starz Music.

Personal life

Lopes was often vocal about her personal life and difficult past. She readily admitted that she had come from an abusive, alcoholic background and struggled with alcoholism herself. These issues became headline news in 1994, when she was arrested for setting fire to Andre Rison's sneakers in a bathtub, which ultimately spread to the mansion they shared and destroyed it. She claimed that Rison had beaten her after a night out, and she set fire to his shoes to get back at him but that burning down the house was an accident. Lopes later revealed that she did not have a lot of freedom within the relationship and that Rison abused her emotionally and physically; she said that she released her frustrations about the relationship on the night of the fire.

Lopes was sentenced to five years' probation and therapy at a halfway house, and was unable to shake the incident from her reputation. Her relationship with Rison continued to make headlines, with rumors of an imminent wedding, later debunked by People magazine. Lopes revealed on The Last Days of Left Eye documentary that her meeting with a struggling mother in rehab left a big impression on her. She subsequently adopted the woman's 8-year-old daughter. She had adopted a 12-year-old boy ten years prior.

Lopes had several tattoos. Most prominent was a large eagle on her left arm, which she said represented freedom. Later, she added the number "80" around the eagle, which was Rison's NFL number while in Atlanta. She also had a tattoo of a moon with a face on her foot in reference to Rison's nickname, "Bad Moon", Lopes later added the words "Love U 2" in the musical notes on her foot for Tupac Shakur. On her upper right arm was a large tattoo of the name "Parron" for her late step brother who died in a boating accident, arching over a large tattoo of a pierced heart. Her smallest tattoo was on her left earlobe and consisted of an arrow pointing to her left over the symbol of an eye, a reference to her nickname. Lopes struggled with self-harm and even carved the words "hate" and "love" into her arm with a razor.

Roughly two weeks before her own death, Lopes was a passenger in a traffic accident that resulted in the death of a 10-year-old Honduran boy. As reported in Philadelphia Weekly, "It is commonplace for people to walk the roads that wind through Honduras, and it's often difficult to see pedestrians." The boy, Bayron Isaul Fuentes Lopez, was following behind his brothers and sisters when he stepped off the median strip and was struck by a van driven by Stephanie, Lopes' personal assistant. Lopes' party stopped and loaded the boy into the car, and Lopes "cradled the dying boy's bleeding head in her arms" while "someone gave him mouth-to-mouth resuscitation as they rushed him to a nearby hospital." He died the next day. Lopes paid approximately $3,700 for his medical expenses and funeral, and she gave the family around $925 for any extra costs, although it was apparently agreed upon by the authorities and the boy's family that his death was an "unforeseeable tragedy" and no blame was placed on the driver of the van or Lopes. In the documentary The Last Days of Left Eye, Lopes is shown choosing a casket for the child from a local funeral home. Earlier in the documentary, Lopes mentioned that she felt the presence of a "spirit" following her, and was struck by the fact that the child killed in the accident shared a similar last name, even thinking that the spirit may have made a mistake by taking his life instead of hers.

Death

On April 25, 2002, Lopes was driving a rented Mitsubishi Montero SUV in La Ceiba, Honduras, when she swerved slightly to avoid a truck (it is not clear if the truck was slow-moving or stationary) then immediately to the right as she tried to avoid an oncoming car. The vehicle rolled several times after hitting two trees, throwing Lopes and three others out of the windows, and finally coming to rest in a ditch at the side of the road. Lopes, at the age of 30, died instantly of "fracture of the base of the cranium" and "open cerebral trauma", and was the only person fatally injured in the accident. A cameraman in the front passenger seat was videotaping at the time, so the last seconds leading up to the swerve that resulted in the fatal accident were recorded on video. Victims of the accident were taken to Liverpool Royal Hospital. Her sister Reigndrop Lopes was in the vehicle and survived the collision.

Lopes' funeral was held at New Birth Missionary Baptist Church in Lithonia, Georgia, on May 2, 2002. Thousands of people attended. Engraved upon her casket were the lyrics to her portion of "Waterfalls", stating "Dreams are hopeless aspirations, in hopes of coming true, believe in yourself, the rest is up to me and you." Gospel duo Mary Mary sang their song "Shackles (Praise You)" at the funeral. Lopes was buried at Hillandale Memorial Gardens in Lithonia.

In a statement to MTV, producer Jermaine Dupri remembered Lopes: "She was determined to be something in life. She was a true rock star. She didn't care about no press. She was the rock star out of the group. She was the one that would curse on TV. She had the tattoos. You could expect the unexpected. When you see Lisa, you could expect something from her. That's the gift she carried."

Legacy

Lopes was in the process of setting up two educational centers for Honduran children. One was built on an 80-acre plot of land she called Camp YAC. The other center was called Creative Castle.

In 2003, shortly after Lopes' death, her family started the Lisa Lopes Foundation, a charitable group dedicated to providing neglected and abandoned youth with the resources necessary to increase their quality of life. Her spiritual motto was the one used for her foundation: "Energy never dies... it just transforms." Her foundation went into various underdeveloped villages and gave new clothes to poor children and their families. In August 2007, the foundation hosted a charity auction, selling items donated by celebrities. It raised approximately $5,000 for the Hogar de Amor ("Home of Love"), an orphanage in Honduras. In 2012, the foundation began hosting an annual music festival, known as "Left Eye Music Fest", in Decatur, Georgia.In the 2018 Boots Riley film Sorry to Bother You, members of a fictional activist group called "Left Eye" use as their symbol a stripe of eye black under the left eye, in an unmentioned reference to Lopes.

Posthumous documentary

A documentary showing the final 27 days of Lopes' life, titled The Last Days of Left Eye, premiered at the Atlanta Film Festival in April 2007, for an audience that included many of Lopes' contemporaries, including Monica, Ronnie DeVoe, 112, Big Boi, India.Arie, and Cee Lo Green. VH1 and VH1 Soul broadcast the documentary on May 19, 2007. Most of the footage was shot with a handheld camera, often in the form of diary entries filmed by Lopes while on a 30-day spiritual retreat in Honduras with sister Reigndrop, brother Ronald and members of the R&B group Egypt. In these entries, she reflected on her personal life and career. A calmer side of her personality was on display, showing interests in numerology and yoga. In January 2020, Lifetime aired an episode of Hopelessly In Love, a docuseries that captures the relationships of the rich and famous, about Lopes and Rison's tumultuous relationship. It showcased the complexity of their relationship and how she ended up with a felony arson charge for burning down Rison's Atlanta mansion.

[nightowlfandom]

The Kings’ Pet Princess- Royal! BTS x Reader Series Part 4- Hoseok 1

REQUEST FROM PROMPT LIST- RIGHT HERE!

READ PART ONE | READ PART 2 (NAMJOON) | READ PART THREE (JUNGKOOK)

New Part! No announcements today.

Leggo!!

...

“That’s a good girl.” 

One of the horses ate a treat from your hand, sniffing your glove in appreciation. You were basically hiding for the day and it was driving you crazy having to watch your back. Namjoon and Jungkook had gotten the best of you and you’d be damned if you let anyone else sink their claws into you. 

You were grateful your pets were allowed to come with you into the kingdom. You owned a few horses and were dead scared they wouldn’t be allowed. Of course you had to convince them to let your lion join the party.

Yes , a lion, she was pregnant and she needed you around at all times. (and she was trained to come running when you called, that would be good for you.) You wondered how the gentle beast was going anyways, you hadn’t visited her in a while. She was probably lonely without you. Your wolf however, he was independent. Until he felt like a child and was glued to your side all day. You also had an owl...now he was just a brat.

Yes, being royal came with a lot of gifts, you loved your pets so it was okay.

However, it seemed as if the king’s horses and pets were a little foreign to the concept of affection, since they had backed away from you the second you walked into the stables. It made you wonder if the kings even thought of them as pets or just a means of transports out of the kingdom.

“It sort of makes you feel small doesn’t it?” you asked aloud, not knowing whether or not Namjoon’s horse could even understand you. “Treated as nothing more than an object.” you sighed. “A token of something that gets them ahead without a concern for you or how it makes you feel to know that you’re just a pawn for the bigger picture.” you sighed. “You serve a bigger purpose...you own him...not the other way around.” you sighed, stepping back from the horse. 

You walked over to the opposite end of the stable to check on your other pet. 

“How you doin, girl?” You opened the cage gate and knelt next to the resting lion. “You doin’ good?” You asked her and she looked up at you. 

Before you could do anything else, someone had entered the stables. You turned around to find Hoseok walked in with a few buckets. He met your eyes, looking unenthusiastic as ever.

“Fancy seeing you here.” You scoffed.

“I always come here.” Hoseok rolled his eyes at you. “Thought you’d be bent over a counter or something.”

Oh what a low fucking blow.

“Is someone jealous they didn’t take their chance when they had it.” you retorted. “Next time you see me why don’t you take the chance while you have it.” you joked visciously.

You heard a growl erupt from (What should her pet lion’s name be? My favorite choice will get a shout-out!). You rubbed the side of her face.

“Easy girl, you can’t rip his face off right now.” you sighed. 

“I don’t know why you even have that thing.” he laughed aloud. “Lions are big scary monsters that assert dominance through intimidation.”

“Oh, and that doesn’t sound familiar!” you scoffed. “Have you tried looking in a fucking mirror? Say what you want about me but my pets and my home are off limits, unless you’d love an arrow between the eyes.” you snarled. You heard another growl erupt from your pained pet. “Hey, I said rest.” you gave her a warning glance. “You need to keep your energy, got it?”

“You seem to care for an...animal more than your future husbands.” he smirked, setting the bucket down in front of who you assumed to be his horse. A black and white speckled cutie. “Why do you even care about them so much.”

“Humans don’t deserve affection from such beautiful creatures.” you snapped. “My pets are my livelihood, whether considered beasts or not. I care for them because of people like you who don’t believe they are worthy of love.”

“It makes you think doesn’t it...” he smirked, walking up to you. “A creature, filled with beauty, grace, and power without knowing she possesses it.” She doesn’t see how powerful of a ruler she can be, she prefers to stay small and quiet, seemingly afraid to seem intimidating.”

“Exactly.” you rolled your eyes, still under the pretence he was referring to the lioness. “She’s graceful, beautiful, and she doesn’t need the validation of others. When she ultimately gives birth, she’ll still be the most fierce and powerful she’ll ever be...and she’s doesn’t need you to tell her because she already knows and she if in fact the most intimidating lioness you will ever meet” you pointed up at him. “So what do you say about that?”

“I’ve yet to meet such a lioness Y/N.” he chuckled darkly still hovering over you. “Are you sure this lioness is even real?”

“You’re looking right at her?” you crossed your, STILL thinking he was talking about the literal 400 pound beast casually resting in her little den even though his smug expression and sudden desire to tower over you was very evidence it had been you he was referring you.

“Well I look forward to seeing the outcome” he winked.

OH YOU WANTED TO PUNCH HIM!

You stormed out the stables, running into the other six men of Bangtan.

“What a marvelous surprise.” Seokjin chimed. 

“Fuck....you..” you said. “Stay away from my horse and we won’t have an issue!” you grumbled as you bumped shoulders.

...

...

You sat on one of the counters in the kitchen. The bright lights lit up the room, allowing you to view the wide area. The kitchens were just as cool looking as the rest of the castle. Everything about this castle was huge.

“Miss Y/N?” you looked up to find a male staff member walking into the kitchen. “Here you are!”

You looked over and saw the cook holding a plate of sweets with some coffee (or tea, whatever tickles your fancy). With a light smile on your face, you hopped down from the counter, taking the plate and the glass. You put them down on the counter where you had been sitting and turned to the cook. 

“Thanks, I feel bad for waking you up.” you said sheepishly.

Maybe it was the headache building up or the fact that you haven’t had a good sleep since your welcoming party, but you had the biggest craving for something. It was two in the morning when you got hungry. You were going to search for something super quick but one of the cooks had heard you walking and had woken up. “You really didn’t have to bake anything.” you motioned to the fact that he had prepared you some sweets from scratch as opposed to just getting you something super simple.

“Please, you are to be our future queen. I live to serve you.” he replied. You withheld the urge to cringe your shoulders.

“Well thank you.” you smiled as he bowed. “I’ll be fine, you go ahead and get back to sleep.” with another bow he turned around and walked off. You picked up one of the cookies and took a bite. You would be queen soon, which meant you’d marry those seven evil assholes. They were cold and mean and...

You had already let Namjoon and Jungkook get the best of you, no way in hell were you letting it happen with the rest of these assholes. Namjoon had caught you off guard, Jungkook had managed to get you in a compromising position. You could only wonder what would happen next.

Or maybe you just loved getting seduced like the crazy woman you refused to believe you were.

You stared up the window up at the moon. It was full and bright, much like you were before you came here. You could only breathe in relief that you were alone. It would be the only peaceful time you’d have for a while.

The thought of becoming queen of this place was enough to make you lose the appetite you had. “No use fighting it.” you sighed. “This is my fate.”

Suddenly, you heard a shuffling noise, followed by low grumbling. You weren’t sure who it was, so you readied yourself. By that you meant you made it look like you didn’t care.

“AND HURRY UP!” Hoseok’s voice rang through your ears. He must have been talking to a cook. You raised an eyebrow just as he smirked at you.

“Why are you here?” he asked, wiping the sleep from your eyes. “Nice shorts.” he bit his lip.

“I live here.” you mumbled. “How quickly you forget” you mumbled. 

“You’re usually asleep at this time.” he mumbled.

“I couldn’t sleep.” you mumbled. 

“I can see that.” Hoseok commented as if his very presence wasn’t annoying. He grabbed one of your cookies off your plate, making you whine.

“That was mine!’ you huffed. “Back off!”

“Sharing is caring little Y/N.” he winked, still eating the cookie anyway. You rolled your eyes and turned away from him, crossing your arms. “Why are you up anyways.”

“Not that it’s any of your concern but I’m worried.” you sighed.

“What about?”

You slowly turned towards him and walked a little closer. “Do you really want to know?”

“...Yeah, entertain me.”

“The fact that I’m being forced to become a queen to a kingdom I have no interest in joining forces with.” you replied as if you had rehearsed everything you had just said. “I have a pregnant lion whose due any day now and the father is still back in my kingdom. My horse is sick so I can’t ride him and he gets really bad anxiety when he’s can’t ride. My siblings are probably worried sick about me and on top of that I HAVE TO MARRY MY MORTAL ENEMIES WITHIN THE NEXT Y-” 

You were cut off by Hoseok, suddenly trapping you in his space, slamming his hands on either side of the kitchen counter. You were instantly silenced as Hoseok got so close that your noses were barely touching.

“You talk too much.” he chuckled. “You stress too much too.” he breathed. “Haven’t you ever just lost yourself?”

“...I haven’t had the chance to do that. So much pressure put on m-” you began to say. “I can’t let my guard down especially.”

Even though that had already happened twice...and would probably happen again.

“Even if you want to?”he asked.

“Even if I want to.” you repeated. “I refuse.”

“Well...what if I tell you what’s gonna happen in advance?”

You would deny you ever said it, but the way Hoseok’s hair shone off the fluorescent kitchen light made him look almost angelic. “I’d appreciate it.” you replied.

You were weak, in the knees, in the heart and in your brain. You weren’t even sure if you had a damn brain anymore! Hoseok’s head dipped down to kissed up your shoulder. You turned your head towards the hallway, anyone could come around the corner at any second. Hoseok didn’t seem to care though, he kissed up the length of your neck, running his tongue over the shell of your ear

“W-what are you-” you breathed. Hoseok’s body gently pushed up against yours. “I-in the kitchen.” you asked. “Y-you’re kidding right? I mean I wouldn’t put it past you but...”

“Why not, I’m a fucking king. If anyone has anything to say about it. They answer to me.” he said. “Besides, I might not be able to have you to myself. Knowing the other’s they’re just waiting for a chance to get you all the themselves...I want my turn...and I want it right now.”

Hoseok’s lips met yours before you could say anything. You were still trapped between him and the counter. Surprisingly, compared to your previous adventures, Hoseok had been the most and unexpectedly gentle. You stiffened up, feeling his tongue flick against your bottom lip. “Answer me something?”

“Depends on what it is.”

“Why exactly is it that you hate us much?” he asked, kissing a line down your jaw.

“G-good question.” 

“An even better question would be why are you letting someone you supposedly hate, do this to you.”

“Namjoon asked me the same thing.” you rolled your eyes. “T-the reason I d-do things aren’t of your concern!” 

Truthfully, you didn’t hate them....you were intimidated...okay maybe you did hate them a little bit too.

“Just like the reason you’re letting me...” his hands creeped down your pajama shorts as his lips found yours again. “Just admit you like being used by us...” he spoke. 

“Never.” you said flatly. “I don’t enjoy being used.”

“Then how..’pleased’ and ‘taken care of’.” his knuckled grazed your heat. “It’s obvious you like it.” he smirked. “You , at the mercy of me.” he raised an eyebrow. “How exciting.”

“But in the kitchen though?!” your voice got way too high pitched for you to be telling the truth. 

“That’s the fun part. We’re so unpredictable. No one’s gonna stop us anyways.”

You knew he was done with the small talk when he crashed his hot mouth over yours. You had long forgotten about your midnight snack much like he had probably forgotten what he came in here for too. You only hoped no one would see such a compromising position. 

“Hm...I wonder if anyone bothered to tend to your needs yet?” he mused, lowering himself to his knees.

“Excuse me?” you nearly flatlined at his words.

“Had anyone bothered to take care of you or am I the first.” he asked in a baby-ish voice. “Has anyone taken care of down here?” He pulled at the waistband of your shorts, making your eyes widen. I’ll take that as a no?” Your shorts pooled at your ankles.

He grabbed your leg and put it over his shoulder. Once again...in the kitchen?

“I can smell your wetness...” he looked up at you. You took note how his eyes darkened with lust. You saw him clench his knuckles and watched as his body shook at he got to eye level with your nether-regions. “It’s so...intoxicatingly...mmf-” Hoseok didn’t finish his own sentence before he lashed his tongue up your slit, making exaggerated moans as he dug his nails into your thighs.

A loud gasp left your body as Hoseok laid sloppy, open mouthed against your pussy. Hand you hands not been on the counter behind you, you probably would have fallen back.

 You were surprised the over-dramatized water sounds didn’t echo throughout the kitchen. It was almost as he he wanted you to hear from every angle. You could hear a shallow laughter coming from Hoseok as he swirled his tongue around your clit. You could feel your water dripping down your leg.

Hoseok’s fingers had slipped into your tight, dripping hole, slowly thrusting his fingers in and out. in and out

“H-hoseok.” you stammered. “You’re making a mess.” 

“Good.” He growled before thrusting his finger’s deeper into your wetness. “Fuck you taste so good.” he snarled. “I want more. I want you to make a mess all over me, baby.” 

You whimpered, throwing your head back. You couldn’t help yourself anymore your hands entangled in his hair. The cord in your stomach had snapped and you had let go. You had also stopped trying to be quiet.

“H-ho-seok.” you bucked your hips against his mouth and your felt your release crash over you. A low groaned erupted from Hoseok’s throat as he lapped up every single drop of your water. Hoseok stood up, pulling you towards him with a smug grin on his face.

“Hm...How’s that for a midnight snack.” he smiled. “But I’m not done...” Hoseok slapped your ass. He hooked his arms around your legs and lifted your up onto the counter, furiously grabbing at his pajama bottoms.

You were only noticing how painfully tight his member had seemed to harden against his pants. As his member was freed, he tilted your head up to meet his again. His mouth crashed over yours, his kiss needy and hot.

“The difference between me and them...is that I know what I want.” Hoseok breathed into your mouth. “I don’t fight my urges or lie to myself.” he nibbled at your bottom lip. “And Y/N...I’ve wanted you for a long time. Of course those other fools would never admit their desires for you but I’m a different man.” he smirked, aligning himself to meet your (still dripping well) hole. “You’re going to be so good, I can tell...” he grunted, sliding his cock painfully slowly into your hole. “Sweet, sweet Y/N...”

You couldn’t register a response, mostly because Hoseok had your tongue prisoner and because you really didn’t know how to respond.

“So here’s what you’re gonna do...my sweet pet. Wrap your arms around your king...and let him take you.”

(Who gave me 660 followers though? Like where y’all coming frommmm. Either way hi and I hate myself for writing this oh my god.

So you guys the next chapter is gonna be kinda dark...like yeah so prepare We’re doing Yoongi’s part next and I got a plan...for hims...so like...ye)

[ai-katsuu]

Jack and Frost (2/3)

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“What am I doing here? Let’s hang out, Auds.” he chuckled. Jack frowned at this but before he could do anything Audrey raised her arm and water splashed on his face, letting go of Audrey as she fell to her feet. “I thought I told you to never carry me like that.” she said sharply

“Charming,” he chuckled, “Audrey, are you okay? What is he doing here?” Jack moved towards her. “Oh, you made it past the barrier.” the snow haired boy remarked “Wasn’t that hard,” Kio mumbled. 

“Ah the Fearless 7, long time no see!” he winked, “You guys know him?” Audrey turned to the group. “Uh yeah. This guy messed with several of our missions by altering the weather.” Arthur drew his sword. “You made me lose several of my spells during that storm!” Merlin accused. 

“Haha, fun times yes.” he stood up dusting himself off “Now if you excuse me I need to take my dear friend on an outing for just the two of us.” “Haha um, Jack,” the two boys looked at her. Startled Audrey looked back and forth at them, “Oh, that’s awkward.” she rubbed her head. Merlin snarked in the background only to be hit by Snow. 

“Frost,” she looked directly at him “You may have not heard the news since you’re all over the place but-” “She’s engaged,” Jack stated flatly. He walked beside her and threw his arm around her shoulder. His other hand took a hold of her wrist and showed off a beautifully forged ring on her finger. He proceeded to raise his up as well. 

Frost looked taken aback for a bit. Audrey looked carefully and saw that his grip on his staff had tightened. She was about to ask before he laughed, “Of course I knew!” Jack squinted his eyes, “It’s just that I don’t know if you knew but we happen to be childhood friends. I simply wanted to treat her as a congratulatory present!” he smiled.

 To Jack, it was a sinister, evil, taunting smile and he only frowned back. Through all the cold, the group could still feel the tension. 

“Hey! Why don’t we all go inside and we can all calm down in there!” Snow said looking directly at Audrey. She was trying to bail her out which Audrey understood and thanked her with her eyes. 

“Yes! Great idea, Snow.” she approached her and linked her arm with hers “Could you come with me to my room?” “Of course!” she said quickly and the two trotted off to the doors “Merlin, could you give Frost a room to rest in? Thanks, we’ll meet for dinner!” and they left, leaving the princes outside. 

It was quite for a bit, “Alright, Frost. What is your game?” Jack marched up to him “Woah Woah wait!” Merlin got in between them, “Frost, let’s get you to room first, ladies orders.” he nervously chuckled. “Triplets come with me.” they nodded  “Yeah Jack, come with us!” Hans grabbed his arm and walked to the other pair of doors, albeit it was difficult due to his resisting and remaining eye contact with Frost. Merlin ushered Frost to the right side of the hallway while the others went the opposite way. 

“Well, well, looks like you’ve got some competition.” Arthur teased. “A competition which I won far before it even began,” Jack responded with a frown on his face. “A childhood friend huh, that’s tough,” Hans pondered. “Did Audrey ever mention him before?” “A couple of times I think,” he wondered, “She said they used to travel together but then they stopped around a couple of years ago.” “Traveled together? So they must’ve spent a lot of time together, late nights and all,” 

Jack stopped and he and Hans gave him a look which took Arthur a bit of time to notice “Oh, sorry.” Hans whacked him on the head. 

---

“Snow! What am I going to do?!” Audrey paced around the shared room of Merlin and Snow. The former sat on her bed. “Well, how long have you known Frost?” she asked, “Childhood. We met around ten years ago when I was just learning about my powers. He fooled around with my powers with his ice.” she told her 

“He always made these pick up lines, but honestly I don’t think he was ever serious about them. Don’t get me wrong, that’s not all he does.” she held her hands up “He has a good heart and is a good friend. He just likes to mess around a lot.” Snow White chuckled, “Well someone seemed to be jealous.” Audrey turned around and put one of her hands on her mouth and cheek, “Oh Jack..” she mumbled, “I should talk to him, shouldn’t I?” Snow nodded,

 “He might be feeling angry or insecure, it’s best to go settle those as soon as possible before any ideas get into his head.” At that moment Merlin had entered the room, “Well someone’s become the belle of the ball.” he joked. Audrey sighed, “How is he?” Merlin’s puffed out a breath of air “He’s in your room now. As for Frost, I gave him a spare room, he seemed fine and aloof, but Jack was oddly quiet.” Audrey moved her hair back, “I’ll go talk to him now. Thanks, guys.” she looked at them. 

“It’s no problem, Audrey.” Snow waved as did Merlin. She closed the doors and quickly made her way to her shared room. Running through the large halls was always one of her favorite things do to when she was exploring the large castle. She would enjoy it more had the situation been different. She didn’t stop as she approached her door, opening it to see Jack on the vanity combing his hair. She slowed down as she closed the door. Audrey didn’t say anything as she walked behind him. He had a frown on his face as he refused to make eye contact with her.

 “Jack..” she began, “Why is he here?” he asked sharply. She sighed, “I don’t know. I don’t even know where he's been for the past few years but-” she looked at the mirror to see that he was now looking at her reflection. She took the comb from his hand, placed it on the table, and instead placed her hand with his and he willingly held it, “I promise you there was never anything between Frost and I.” his grip tightened at the mention of his name, 

“We were childhood friends and he pulled this all the time. Constantly.” she rolled her eyes, “I like him as a friend because he is a good one, but that’s it. It was never anything more.” she assured him. Jack sighed and turned around from his chair, “I’m sorry. It’s not that I’m mad at you. I know you love me, I never doubted that.” he looked at her sympathetically and she smiled a bit “It just made me uncomfortable and insecure.” he mumbled.

Audrey’s laugh filled his ears, the one that made him weak every time. She gracefully sat on his lap and put her arms around his neck. “Just forget about it, darling.” Jack scoffed and rolled his eyes “Remember when Arthur heard me call you that for the first time?” he laughed “He was mortified!” she giggled. 

Jack sighed dreamily. “I love you, Jack. No matter what.” a light pink made its way to his cheeks as he smiled. “I love you too…” he mumbled as he closed his lips on hers. A meaningful kiss, just like the one they gave each other the day Jack’s curse was broken. 

The following evening Jack had eaten dinner in their room as did the others. While he was in the shower Audrey decided to go and visit Frost. “Frost?” she entered the room. “Yes, Frost is here.” she looked up and saw Frost hanging from the ceiling with his staff. He was making little snowflakes and blowing them to the window. Her gaze went to the hot soup and rice that was sitting on the table. 

“I know you don’t need to eat but if you just leave the food untouched it’ll send the wrong message to the cook,” she told him. “Depends who cooked it. Was it that ginger-haired member? Or the cute little bear children?” “I think you know who,” she sat on his bed. “Then no, I won’t eat it.” he smiled and sat upon the ledge.

 Audrey sighed and ignored that comment, “Where have you been? I haven’t seen you in months.” “Same as you, just around the world. Well, maybe not like you anymore.” he eyed her finger. Audrey looked at him sympathetically. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He eyed her “You know you could’ve just sent me a message through any body of water.” Audrey shook her head “It wasn’t something I wanted to tell you through message. This is important, I wanted to tell you in person.” “Well you could’ve called me about meeting up!” he raised his hand up. “You’re right! You’re right, I have no excuse,” she gave in looking at him, “This was a new life and I just got caught up in it.” she stared at the room then snapped her fingers all of a sudden. 

“Let’s go on an adventure,” Frost lifted his head up, “What?” “Like before! Let’s go from town to town, cause some trouble, make more memories. Three days.” she offered. Jack jumped down from his staff and couldn’t hide his grin, “You’re serious? Really?” Audrey nodded “Yeah! Think of it as one more hurrah before I’m married.” Frost paused and raised his eyebrow, Audrey saw through his question and agreed “Yes, we’ll still have these adventures after I’m married.” he had a contentful smile and nodded his head. 

He finally went to the food that was prepared and took a sip of the champagne “So you’ve talked to blondie about it?” “Ah,” she raised her shoulders “No I just thought of it now. But we’re going that’s for sure,” she pointed. “Afterwards it’s back to wedding planning and all that fancy stuff.” 

Frost put the glass down and took a bite of the rice and soup “Wow, this is actually really good.” he slurped it loudly. “Alright,” she stood up. “I’ll go talk to Jack, we can leave tomorrow morning, and you should get some rest right after you finish making love to your soup,” she stated, eyeing him out the door. 

When she entered her room she saw Jack with a bathrobe on, dabbing his fingers on a face mask he had put on. “Jack, hey! I need to talk to you about something.” “Oh no,” his eyes went wide and turned to face her, “Okay I had to throw away those creams of yours, they were a scam and they do nothing for your skin.” 

“No I meant- you threw away my creams?” she took a double look at him. Jack looked to the side, “Oh that’s not what this is about?” “Yeah no,” she glared at him while he nervously laughed, “I need to ask you something,” she took his hand “Of course, is everything alright?” 

[torquentor]

AURELIOS COMPANION QUEST:     MY MOTHER? WHY, MOTHER?

After the Winter Palace, ‘Nanny’ ( Aurelios head of staff ) will not return with Aurelio to Skyhold.     Aurelio will also begin to act more bizarrely than usual, and is defensive to questioning.    The Inquisitor soon after receives a letter from a ‘concerned friend’ who says some cryptic things about Lio being ‘’not all he seems’’, begs them to meet at a disclosed location in the Frostbacks.    If this quest is ignored, Aurelio will ultimately die in the end battle with Corypheus.. soooo .. not ideal.    Let’s continue !! 

Inquis meets up with mystery party and BOOM its Nanny, who reveals her true name to be Safiya, and prefers to be called that by those she doesn’t consider family.  Safiya reveals in very broken tradespeak that Aurelio has a ‘sickness’ to which she knows the cure.    She details that she tried to reveal this cure to Aurelio, but he rejected it and cast her away, considering it a betrayal.    If pressed: a cure to what? Safiya will respond that ‘they took his heart away, we will give it back to him.’ 

It’s natural to expect this to be some quest to retrieve Aurelios actual heart, but it isn’t. Safiya, Aurelios head of guard Nileena, and a few others close to him have been searching extensively for a way to get him to relive parts of his childhood through the fade.  Lio is notorious for not wanting to do that, and rarely even seriously talks about it --- because, he doesn’t remember much of it.   As a result of trauma, his developing brain blinked out big patches of his life before the age of around ten.  He fabricated, to fill in the gaps.  His father also gaslighted him  a fucking BUNCH and would also fabricate things his family members / mother especially had said or done to him.  Aurelios servants, then slaves, remember everything as it truly happened. 

The Divine has spent his life aloof about death because everything was so black and white to him.  Bad people deserve death, murdering people who do bad things is nothing to be guilty about, because they were bad.     Aurelio convinced himself that his family were nothing but cruel, shallow people just like his father -- but they weren’t.     Some of them were as young as he was.    None of them, bar his father, were anywhere near ‘evil.’        They were in the same cage as he was, in many ways, he just never saw it that way and was ACTUALLY manipulated not to see it that way.

Safiya will insist the Inquis can get through to Aurelio, because Aurelio loves them ( she says this regardless of whether they are just close friends / romanced ) like no one he’s ever loved before, and they make him more of a person.  She said she and the others have tried to help him see that in order to be his best, and begin to grow and achieve some closure about what happened to him, he has to face himself.  They want him to be truly free.  They want him to see that though his father taught him to be a mindless killer who suffers no consequence or guilt, he ISN’T that. They want him to be free of hate. Hate his father, hate him and wish he burns, hate Tevinter and what it did to him --- but not the innocents, not the ones caught in the crosshairs.  It’s that hate that makes him nasty.      Sadistic.   But he never listens, or maybe he doesn’t know how to hear it from them.   Maybe he’ll hear it from the Inquisitor. 

Of course, he does. It takes convincing, but he goes along with it. Adamant that it’s pointless and it’ll lead nowhere and it’s a waste of time because he knows what happened blah blah.   A small ritual is performed, and the Inquisitor, Aurelio and the party travel to the Fade.     Thus begins a series of occurrences: 

Aurelio and the party will begin to experience various parts of Aurelios young life. Siblings beaten for asking to see him. The Archon, Radonis, chastising / threatening his father for what he had done to ‘’the boy’’, his sister teaching him how to navigate his room, how she’d cried when they were found and he was dragged away.  His mother lying in bed with him after the ritual had been performed, stroking her hands over his wounds, crying and just saying ‘’sorry, i’m so sorry’’ over and over again.  Seeing how her relationship with his father, how she was treated, was horrific, just like his was.   Obviously, at this point, Lio starts to almost --- dissolve into tears himself.  Not that he comments on them.    He can barely speak but he asks, firmly, to leave. He says he doesn’t want to see anymore. 

When they return to the physical, Safiya, AKA Nanny, is waiting for them with some more of Aurelios servants.   Aurelio at first will claim trickery, and try to weasel out of everything by claiming this was all some grand fabrication, but Safiya and the Inquisitor can talk him down.  They assure him that he couldn’t have known, he isn’t damned, he is just human: like everyone, and that is their point --- that humanity has weight and consequence but humanity is all that stands between him and being just another monstrous dictator.  

Aurelio becomes increasingly upset, understandably, as the weight of everything really does settle on him.  With the Inquisition, he has begun to show more .. remorse, and empathy lately as it is, but this is just a whole new level of breakthrough for him.    Safiya says they all loved him, and they all here love him now, and even though it hurts and it makes him feel sick and heavy and hollow all at once, wasn’t it better than hate?     Safiya tells him that she loves him more than anything, and hates herself for being too frightened of him to fully tell him the truth.     If the dialogue is successfully executed, and he is fully romanced / friendship maxxed at this point: quietly, he asks: my mother, she loved me?  And Safiya says yes.      Aurelio will break down in tears and is embraced first by the Inquisitor, Safiya, then slowly more of the people in the room --- people who have known him all his life, and love him anyway. 

Aurelio will then be FULLY PROPER maxxed out friendship / fully in love at this point.  It is also after this that he is considered more ‘human’, not unlike Coles companion quest, and begins to truly break apart and understand empathy and the gravity of taking life.  He still does it.   Just not as .. thoughtlessly, mindlessly.  He is also focused entirely on redeeming Tevinter, and almost abandons the idea of destroying it, considering it more of a ‘’last resort’’ than an exciting second option.

[thecorteztwins]

🔥 villains. 🔥 the hellfire club 🔥the difference between naive and unintelligent characters

Welp, this all got STUPIDLY LONG and I’m really sorry. Under a cut because HUUUUUGE.

🔥 villains.There’s just been a robbery! All the jewels in the museum’s vault have been stolen! The culprits are….Sabretooth and Magneto!Yeah, that doesn’t sound right, does it? Thievery isn’t really something either of them do, they’re not bank robber or cat burglar types at all. And Magneto’s not a fan of Sabes to my memory, it’s unlikely he’d work with him unless it was essential to his ACTUAL goals…which this isn’t. But hey, they’re both bad guys, so they must do ALL the bad things! No matter what it is, it’s in-character if it’s evil or unlawful, right?This is the logic that I see running both often in fandom, and also sometimes with canon writers. There’s a mentality that if someone is villainous or bad in ONE way, then they must be villainous or bad in ALL ways. I think there’s always been this misunderstanding, as people do tend to think in black and white a lot, but I think it’s also increased with the rise of purity culture in Tumblr, where people/characters/works are All Good or All Bad, and if the bad guys aren’t depicted as 1000% heinously evil then it’s APOLOGISM. An example in RP would be that more than once I’d had people expect Fabian to be a racist. I can see why, given that he expresses sexism, classism, a bit of ableism, and disgust with physical mutations. But not only does he never express racism, he never expresses racism DESPITE AMPLE OPPORTUNITY. Think about it—his main antagonists are Magneto (Jewish) and Quicksilver (Jewish and Romani), he once personally fights Bishop (Black and Indigenous Australian) one on one, he’s on one team with Shinobi (half white, half Japanese), and his allies/underlings in the second-gen Acolytes included people who are African American, Moroccan (and Muslim-coded), and Inuit. And he never, ever, EVER even THOUGHT anything related to race (or religions that are usually implicitly tied to race) about ANY of them. Given how blatant his other prejudices are, I think he would very much let the reader KNOW if he were racist, anti-Semitic, etc. An example in canon…look, I’m sorry to bring up this dead horse again, but it is the best example that I presently have—Sebastian Shaw making the “women’s work” comment. As with Fabian, I get why it makes sense on the surface. He’s a powerful man, the proverbial rich old white guy, and he’s part of an organization where women walk around in lingerie as a general rule. It seems like it makes sense, it does, I grant that. But then if you actually look at his history…for 40 years of canon, he’s been allies and enemies with many powerful women, and never made a remark about their gender, never relegated lesser or menial tasks to them, never treated any of them differently as partners or foes, he actually never even flirts with any of them, be they opponents or partners in crime  (except that ONE issue when Emma is in Storm’s body and he kisses her…yeah that was a weird issue, why does a telepath need a gun to switch bodies?) Which is pretty unusual for a male Claremont villain. And he actually reacts with “I…see.” the one time a comrade makes a genuinely sexist remark. He doesn’t agree with him, he’s more like “wow ok I can’t believe he said that but I guess I’ll let it go since I want to recruit him” So, it’s actually VERY odd for him to suddenly say something like that, once you know the character. Especially since, like Fabian, he had TONS of opportunity in the past and he’s also not a character that most writers want to seem sympathetic or likeable. So it’s unlikely the writers were just trying to make him look good by playing down some secret sexist tendencies all this time or something. It’s more likely he just doesn’t have them BUT IS STILL A HORRIBLE PERSON! He just doesn’t need to be horrible in every way! Most people, even the MOST terrible, aren’t horrible in EVERY WAY POSSIBLE.That’s also why I try to avoid having Fabian being too homophobic (beyond “I can convert lesbians”) or transphobic, despite the fact that I *could* justify it (since those things are very intertwined with sexism)—because he’s awful enough. Giving him additional bigotries just seems stupidly redundant and cheap. Especially since I think people actually hate a bigoted character more than they hate a murderer; like I feel like if Duggan ever graduates to Shaw making a racist or homophobic remark, I might have to close his blog, but it’s fine to have blogs for fictional serial killers. By the same token, a villain having good traits doesn’t somehow eliminate their bad ones, especially if the good and bad traits are unrelated to each other. A mass murderer supervillain is not “actually a good guy deep down” because he loves his family; it’s actually VERY common for even genocidal dictators to care for their own. Hell, not to go all Godwin, but Hitler was an animal-lover and had a beloved dog. You can certainly point to good traits to show that a villain isn’t ALL bad (which as I just said, I support) but not being “all bad” isn’t the same as “actually a good person and just misunderstood!” Like, Shaw being an egalitarian in a lot of regards or was good to Madelyne Pryor or loved his father, doesn’t change he’s a heartless, morally bankrupt monster who abused his son and sold out an entire oppressed species (his own, no less) for his own financial gain. Mystique is an incredibly complex character, far more so than Shaw, but her love for Destiny and Rogue and many of her other good points don’t change that she hunted down other mutants for the government, abused her human son for not being a mutant, has committed rape by deception numerous times (though I think that’s due to the writers not realizing that’s a thing), constantly tries to manipulate her daughter’s life and choices, and I’m pretty sure I recall an issue where she framed a guy for domestic abuse just for funsies?Basically, villains are people. They have individual different traits and beliefs and motives, and those things will drive them towards individual different types of villainy. One villain probably won’t do the same kind of villainy that another does. Likewise, someone being a shitty person in one way, or many ways, doesn’t mean they will be in ALL ways. Pointing this out isn’t the same thing as denying their flaws or defending them, but some people do do this and that’s wrong too. Nuance needs to be allowed for. Pointing out Shaw isn’t awful in every way doesn’t mean I think he’s a misunderstood woobie whose crimes should all be forgiven. Pointing out Mystique has done awful shit doesn’t mean I think she’s pure evil and all her complex points should be ignored. It just means I don’t think characters should be strawmanned by fans OR writers as paragons or demons, especially when it contradicts what canon has actually established (with the caveat that canon is dumb sometimes too, and also some characters canonically ARE one extreme or the other, but I’m talking about ones who AREN’T)🔥 the hellfire clubI’ll give two on this! One is “unpopular” just in the sense it’s not something I’ve ever heard anyone express, but I’ve never heard an opinion in opposition to it either. The other is “unpopular” in that it does directly contradict a popularly held opinion.The first is that I think it’s stupid that Grant Morrisson made The Hellfire Club into a strip club, and it’s stupid that writers since depicted it this way. The Hellfire Club is shown in the 80s and 90s as being, first and foremost, an elite social club for the wealthiest and most powerful people in society. It’s basically a big posh country club, and most of its members are just regular people. Super duper rich people, but still normal people, lots of old money and new money and big business owners and politicians and probably royalty/nobility. Most of what they’re doing is big fancy, stuffy galas and balls, that kind of thing. But under the surface, it’s hinted that there is indeed a much more sexual underside to it. The female staff wear very fetishy maid costumes, the female Inner Circles literally have dominatrix lingerie as their getups, and while we actually never see what goes on beyond the closed doors in the 80s, nor was anything directly stated, the hints are definitely there that it’s as libertine in the private rooms as they are prim and proper in the ballrooms. We don’t know WHAT exactly is happening, only that it’s dark and decadent and surely sexual in some kind of “abnormal” (read: kink shaming) way.And then it turns out it’s just a strip club where the dancers wear corsets? Really? REALLY? I’m sorry, you expect me to belief that these oh-so-forbidden and secretive sexual delights that are available only to the richest and most powerful people in the world are…a TITTY BAR WITH NO ACTUAL TITTIES EVEN OUT???? That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard! It’s so fucking juvenile! It feels like something a 13 year old made up while trying to come up with the mos edgy, shocking, “sexy” thing he could. It just…doesn’t work. It doesn’t work firstly because it completely took away the whole “upper class veneer” that is as much an essential part of the HFC as the sex. In fact, I think more so. Writers, artists, and fans all like to focus on ZOMG THE SEXY COSTUMES but thematically speaking, I think the fact it’s an elite organization exclusive to the super-wealthy is much more important; that should be what they’re really about as villains, but writers end up focusing way too much on the shock value of the kink, and that’s how you wind up with stuff like this. The second reason it doesn’t work is that…it isn’t even shocking. When what they were doing was kept hidden, the reader could imagine no limit of decadence and depravity. When it’s revealed, and revealed as something that’s frankly super and common and TAME (seriously, strip clubs aren’t edgy these days) that you can get anywhere else, you’re left wondering why exactly anyone gives a shit about being in the HFC if this is all it really is? We should NEVER get to see what the HFC patrons truly do in private, and we should definitely never get shown that it’s just watching a woman pole dance with Victorian underwear on. That doesn’t make the HFC look sexual, it makes them look like PRUDES!Honestly, I do actually love the sexy sinful decadent aspect, but it’s overtaken the “extremely rich and powerful people trying to rule the world from behind the scenes through political and economic manipulation” aspect (which is far more interesting and villainous) that I kind of wish sometimes they had been created without the kink or colonial cosplay aspects, and instead had just worn some 80s powersuits.Now, here’s the “unpopular as in contradicts the popular” opinion. I see the Hellfire Club described a lot, in canon and fandom, as an organization of powerful MEN, as a bunch of MEN who just want to control others, as a BOY’S club…but aside from Sebastian Shaw, all the most prominent and effective members of the Club have been women? I mean, think about it. The names most synonymous with “Hellfire Club” in fandom are Emma Frost, Selene, Jean Grey as Dark Phoenix, and Sebastian Shaw. Shaw’s the ONLY dude that really gets any focus from writers OR fans; the women are almost always utilized more by writers and remembered more by fans. Heck, in the London Branch of the Hellfire Club, NONE of the male members of the Inner Circle even got NAMES, while ALL the women did. Now, of course, individual women in an organization being successful in said organization and beloved by fans/writers, doesn’t mean the organization itself can’t also be sexist. And like most people, the disparity between the costumes of both the Inner Circle and the mere staff does lead me to believe that it was probably founded and run only by men originally, and I bet women probably weren’t even allowed in for a long time (especially given that it was established in the 1700s) But that’s my HEADCANON. That’s what I EXTRAPOLATE. But what’s actually on the page IN THE PRESENT is women that are on equal footing with men, or superior to them. They’re not just simply ALLOWED in the Inner Circle, they’ve been dominating it from the first appearance with Emma ruling it alongside Shaw over Leland and Pierce, and then Selene coming in to challenge Shaw and Emma (with Shaw being terrified of her) in a way that none of the other members (all male—Leland, Pierce, Von Roehm) could. Gender is never brought up by anyone, even the most despicable male HFC members like Donald Pierce. So while I believe it was founded by sexist men, the Inner Circle seems pretty egalitarian now.But of course, there’s the costumes. I absolutely think it’s a sexist setup that the men get to wear (super ugly) period cosplay while the women are in fetish lingerie. It seems to be the standard uniform, and the fact that they haven’t CHANGED it shows that there’s definitely still some sexism.Except…it doesn’t seem to be a rule in-universe that the women HAVE to wear them? We actually see female members of the HFC, such as Selene, wearing clothing other than that while hanging out there; there’s actually a scene wear Selene is wearing pants and a sleeveless turtleneck with gloves. Maddy also wears a lot of black leather when she’s a member, but it doesn’t look like the Hellfire Club ladies getup, it looks like all the other stuff she was wearing in the 90s. And when Selene, Emma, etc., AREN’T in the Hellfire Club…they often still dress exactly like that, or in a similiar manner. I think it’s pretty clear that no one is MAKING them wear the uniforms, they just LIKE them, they’re probably “encouraged but optional” or something like that. And Emma even has that WHOLE DAMN SPEECH about how this is her armor, how it empowers her, etc. That said, while I don’t think any other CHARACTERS are making these women dress like that, I do think the writers/artists are. If a real woman made the speech that Emma did, I’d be like “ok sure, you go girl, do what feels empowering for you”. But Emma ISN’T a real woman. Every word in her mouth in that panel is being put there by Chris Claremont, a horny man with a dominatrix fetish who is trying to justify it by selling it as feminist. That is what it is. But just because that’s the case on a meta level…on an in-universe level, no one makes these women dress like this, and that’s very evident, and while the way they’re treated by writers/artists is definitely affected by them being women, the way other characters, including the Hellfire Club men, treats them, isn’t. At least not til shitty recent stuff. (I’ve seen some people think SHAW made the women dress like that….yeah, sure, like he could make SELENE do anything? He’s completely afraid of her but somehow can make her wear something she doesn’t want? Emma and Selene dress like that no matter where they are and whether they’re presently HFC members or not, but somehow he’s making them do that? HOW DOES ANYONE GIVE THIS GUY THAT MUCH CREDIT?)Basically, I think people are TRYING to be feminist, but it often ends up feeling like SEXISM to me? Because it’s totally ignoring and erasing the power and agency that these women exert in this organization, and often even claiming that it’s actually the men who have all the control, when aside from Shaw it’s usually the ladies running the show. It just seems disrespectful to me. It’s like, as much as people are claiming to hate a lack of agency for female characters, they seem more comfortable with that idea than a situation where women actually HAD it. Maybe it’s because they’re villains, maybe it’s because the costumes really are distracting and unequal no matter how the writers try to justify it (again, I wish they’d just gone with business suits), but there seems to be an overall fandom determination to insist on women like Emma Frost and Selene as victims or simply accomplices to a greater (male) villain, rather than embracing them as the Top Tier Bad Bitches they were/are, and, again, that seems more sexist to me than not. But I worry people will think I’m sexist if I say that. But you know me, you know I LOVE agency for female characters, and how I rail against it when see them ACTUALLY lacking it in comics, so you know it’s not that. I think it’s just a part of the rise in purity culture that even “progressive” people would rather see a woman forced or coerced to be a victim than choose of her own volition to be a villain and be GOOD at it :/🔥the difference between naive and unintelligent charactersWell, firstly, obviously there IS a difference. Naivete is just a lack of experience or learned knowledge, neither of which has anything to do with intelligence. A naive character may make mistakes in a new situation based on their lack of knowledge about it, and that may LOOK stupid to those who have this knowledge, but it’s not the same thing. I think we can agree that, say, Tony Stark isn’t stupid, but if he had to navigate in the wilderness, he might do things that experienced hikers and campers and outdoors people know are SUPER BAD IDEAS. Because this isn’t something he knows about or has experience with.So, I think considering characters who are new to this world (as is common in comics—lots of people from other dimensions, planets, and times) as stupid because they don’t know a lot of things we take as a given, is erroneous. I think it’s pretty common for fandom to look at, say, Longshot or Thor, and deem them as basically being idiots because they’re not familiar with their new environments…when in fact, we’d all be acting the same if we wound up in Asgard or Mojoworld. Not that there’s not other reasons they can’t be idiots, but not knowing what a toaster is isn’t one of them.The big difference is that naivete is a temporary state, and I think both writers and fans forget that. The character’s naivete will gradually decrease as they learn more and more. So if you’re writing an Avengers fic where Thor has been on Earth for five years so far, he probably knows what a toaster is, can order normally at a restaurant, isn’t confused by normal sights like cars or traffic lights or computers, etc., but could still be confused if he went to a Midgardian country with very different cultural norms than the ones he’s learned in the United States. Likewise, I can keep Malcolm perpetually baffled by new worlds in RP since time is kinda wobbly here and can be static or move forward or back as we like, but if I were writing him in a linear story, he would have to learn along the way about the technology and norms of other worlds as he experiences them; if he didn’t learn, THEN he would be unintelligent, not just naive. If he touches a hot stove once because he didn’t know what it was, and it burns him, that’s naive. If he touches it twice to test if it does the same thing again, that’s curious and maybe even smart, despite looking stupid to others. If he keeps doing it every day by accident, then THAT’S an idiot. Also, even a naive character may still be able to deduce that certain things are bad ideas, dangerous, etc. For instance, let’s say my character is a normal everyday girl sucked into a fantasy realm. She doesn’t understand the language, and the people around her don’t look like anything humanoid, but when all of them go quiet and still when a larger, more decorated one enters, and they all give it a lot of space, she can probably deduce that this is someone of great importance, and she probably should do what the others are doing and not risk pissing it off. She may know nothing about these beings or their customs, but she still can use her powers of observation and common sense. It may end up being a TOTALLY wrong move—for instance, maybe newcomers are meant to come introduce themselves to the leader by touching them–but it was a good, sensible guess. Whereas if she’d just walked up to the being and given it a good swift kick, that’d be unintelligent to an almost unbelievable point, and no amount of “she’s just naive!” could excuse it.Oh yeah, and optimism doesn’t automatically equate to naivete either. To be honest, I think that extreme cynicism is just as naive in its own way as thinking everything is sunshine and daisies, and I’d like to see this explored more in fiction rather than the perpetual “happy positive people are dumb and naive and just don’t know better, whereas the grumpy cynics are always smarter and more experienced” that media is so fond of.TL;DR Not only is naivete not unintelligence, it also should be a temporary state. It’s definitely cute to watch a naive character stumble around their new experiences, but in gaining those experiences, they’re going to become less naive, and make few mistakes. Naive characters should also still be capable of acting in ways that are sensible, even if they end up being wrong for the new situation. And being positive doesn’t automatically equate naivete either, nor does negativity equate to the reverse (and can be naive in itself)

[unadulteratedfandomtrash]

Loki Laufeyson x Reader ~ Rest Assured [Pt.7]

[My Marvel Masterlist]   [Previous Part]

A/N: Just another friendly reminder that I’m not following the canon timeline for the sake of having more characters to work with for this series!

Word Count: 1995

By the barrier in question, muttering maledictions in a language unknown to anyone present, Loki’s eyes squeeze shut in concentration as he struggles against his wife’s magic. The mere fact that he is struggling to fight the very magical spells the God of Mischief himself uses and taught to (Y/n) is a testament to his teachings, as well as her skills as a sorceress. The sound of three distinct footsteps, one being as loud as a thunderstorm, shatter’s Loki’s concentration. He looks up in annoyance, ready to berate his brother for being a nuisance, only to be met with an unfamiliar face walking alongside his brother and Natasha.

For a brief second, Loki scoffs at the newcomer’s outfit. Everything from the large yellow gloves to the elaborate cape that seems to have a mind of its own irritates the black-haired god.

“And who might you be?”

“My name’s Doctor Stephen Strange, and according to these two, you are in need of my services.”

“I remember no such thing.”

“Heimdall saw portions of the sorcerer’s residential inscription, and after Natasha did some quick research, we were able to track down the one you seek. Brother, he will help you open the doors.”

Drawing conclusions quickly never ends well, so the God of Mischief makes it a point to show his skepticism. He returns his attention to the doors, waving his fingers and wrist to channel his magic into the warded layers of the barrier. With his closed in concentration, Loki fails to notice the raised brows on Stephen’s face. Instead, one of the Avengers on shift, Tony, catches the surprised expression and articulates his thoughts without a second of hesitation.

“You good there, Doc? What’s with the weird look?”

“I’ve only witnessed one person who uses that exact kind of magic…but she disappeared after her training with me at the New York Sanctum.”

At the end of his statement, Loki looks up from his work once more to stare at the doctor, only this time it is not out of disinterest. It is, in fact, the exact opposite of such.

“You know Asgardian party tricks?” Tony interrupts the god with his snide remark, earning a puzzled look from Bruce, who questions his companion’s frivolous phrasing. 

“No,” Stephen answers without a hint of amusement towards the wealthy hero’s words, “As I said before, I have only ever witnessed someone use Asgardian magic. She explained it to me briefly, but refused to give any details. I believe it was in her interest to keep that information under wraps, and I didn’t blame her. You never know when any people with ill intentions are lurking around.”

”Well, my wife is currently locked in her own room and I have no way of breaking her spells on my own. If you claim to be the man who can help, then you better start helping.”

“How long has she been in there?” Stephen’s medical training kicks into gear. Numerous questions regarding (Y/n)’s health and well-being flood into the doctor’s mind. He knew immediately upon touching the door that he will be helping the immortal beings in saving their princess-- his former student. 

“Far too long to be healthy,” Frigga comments solemnly. “We tried to open the doors many times, but each attempt was unsuccessful. Her spells are simply too powerful for us to decipher, and we were unaware that foreign magic was involved in the incantations.”

“Yes, (Y/n) proved to be quite the challenge for me and my colleagues. She is much smarter than she let on to be. We had to scramble for more information to teach her since our usual lesson plan was finished within a few weeks.”

Civil conversation ensued between the two spellcasters as they work diligently with one another, never once arguing, with the exception of a few moments spent disagreeing over the proper incantation for a given spell.

Off to the side, Tony continues to make unnecessary comments as Peter, who is shadowing the group in order to learn from his mentor, stares off into one end of the hall, feeling lost and unsure of what to do. Scott stands a couple feet away from them, giving Bruce a detailed description on how he would attempt to bypass the tower’s security system; Bruce has been meaning to talk with Tony about updating Jarvis’ programming, so he asked Scott, who has a Masters Degree in electrical engineering and a history of breaking into buildings, for some insight and advice on specific points to focus on.

“What do you mean it’s easy,” Bruce cries out in horror when Scott claims that a physical break-in would be fairly easy in his opinion.

“Yeah, man. Based on everything you’ve told me, plus my experiences being in the tower, I can tell that Tony has barely any security measures in place within the ventilation shafts since Clint is always crawling around inside them. Sooooo, that being said, all I would have to do is enter from the outside via the vents and voila, I’m inside the Avengers’ headquarters!”

Whimpers of fear leave the scientist’s quivering lips. Both hands fly up into his hair, grasping the curled locks and tugging on them as the man breathes in quick repetitions.

“I gotta let Tony know! If someone like you can figure that out, then what happens if some super-secret, evil, organized-crime villain and his henchmen learn about the tower’s weakness too? Then we’re all doomed!”

In the midst of Bruce’s spiraling, panicked thoughts and Scott’s scoff in offense, a loud crackling sound echoes throughout the halls, startling everyone by the doors, especially an already-anxious Bruce Banner.

“Finally…” Loki lets out a breath of air he never realized that he has been holding in. He brings up a hand to push open the door on his side, but is surprised to see it trembling like a leaf in a storm. “What is the matter with me,” the black-haired god whispers demeaningly to himself.

“Nothing at all.” Warm hands cup Loki’s colder one, prompting the god to look up and find his mother’s comforting gaze. She gently rubs her son’s fingers to soothe his nerves. “What is making you so anxious? The last time you were like this was the day you got married.”

“She’ll be angry with me, Mother. I left her alone with no hints regarding my well-being. She’s always more concerned about me than herself. I worry she will never forgive me.”

“What makes you say that, Loki? Ever since the day you two met, (Y/n) has been nothing but loyal to you. Even at your worst, she was by your side, tending to you. She is always bringing out the best in you and making sure you’re well. There is no doubt in my mind, my son, that she will welcome you back with open arms. Now, don’t keep your wife waiting.”

With a gentle shove, Frigga pushes Loki closer to the large wooden barrier that stands between him and (Y/n). His mother’s supportive words gives the black-haired god enough courage to set aside his worries and push open the doors that have been closed for too long, but the sight he is greeted by hurls Loki back into his worried state.

“Oh, darling…” The God of Mischief inhales sharply, rushing over to the bedside hastily. His hands clasp her right hand tightly, squeezing it tightly. (Y/n)’s extremely low body temperature scares Loki. Even though his wife’s Asgardian heritage hinders her body from falling ill as easily as mortal beings, he worries that her current condition is linger closer to death.

Stephen quickly steps in to diagnose his former student. Though she is not human and he has never treated any being other than a human, the doctor is determined to try his best to help. His yellow gloves are thrown off in a corner without care, fingers pressing at (Y/n)’s neck beneath her left ear.

“She’s got a pulse, but it’s barely there.”

Suddenly realizing that he can help, Loki wiggles his fingers to conjure some of his magic. A soft green glow radiates from the God of Mischief’s hands, flowing around in the air before seeping into her skin. Despite the poor lighting in the room, both Loki and Stephen can tell that (Y/n)’s complexion is taking on a healthier hue than the pale, grey-ish tone it was before the healing spell; the rise and fall of her chest becomes more clear. A sigh of relief is audibly heard from the two spellcasters.

Looking over his shoulder to where his mother and the six avengers Loki gestures for the group to move as he gingerly slips his arms beneath (Y/n)’s knees and back. Once a clear path is made, the god lifts his wife off the bed, cradling her dangerously light body to his chest. 

Not a word is spoken during the walk to the healing chambers, where one of the attendants is quick to lead Loki over to a bed secluded from the many others that are scattered around the large room. She drags a curtain across the length of the cot before politely asking all the people in the room to leave as she calls for the primary healer in charge of caring for members of the royal family, but Loki refuses to budge. 

For a moment, Thor stops to wonder if the attendant and healers are sworn to secrecy like some of the other staff. The AllFather never mentioned anything about it. 

“Mother,” the God of Thunder speaks up while keeping his eyes on the healing chamber attendant, “did Father order the healers to sign a confidentiality agreement prior to our arrival?”

“Of course,” Frigga assures. “I made sure your father did not miss any important details. I had no doubt in my mind that your brother would be able to open those doors to reach (Y/n). If any prying individuals manage to discover the events taking place, Heimdall will know and immediately report his findings. There is no need to worry.”

Satisfied, Thor users his Avengers friends out to allow the healers perform their job. Tony proves to the most stubborn, second to Loki, of course. He fights against the blond god with the argument of wanting to observe the methods Asgard utilizes to treat wounds and illnesses, but Thor rebutts, stating that even he is unfamiliar with the powers of a healer.

“You will learn nothing from simply observing, Stark. All you would see is golden wisps of magic floating above the healing bed. Being in that room would only hinder their ability to work efficiently.”

“Oh? Then why is Reindeer Games in there with them?” Tony is determined to catch a glimpse of the healers in action, which unfortunately brings out unpleasant characteristics of his personality. Back at home in the tower, hearing his quips and arrogant responses to something he dislikes usually does not result in any severe consequences, however, they are no longer at the tower. They are temporarily staying in Asgard’s palace, where the royal figures reside in alongside them. Inappropriate, unprofessional behavior has no place here.

“Tony, please shut up,” Bruce pleads. “This is not your home. We’re on Asgardian turf. You can’t just say whatever you want!”

“Mr. Stark,” Peter adds,”I really think you should listen to Dr. Banner. It’s unprofessional to act so care-free in someone else’s home, especially when that home belongs to the rulers of another realm.”

The sharp click of the door opening does not give Tony an opportunity to speak. Everybody turns to find Loki closing the door behind him, ignoring the curious stares and striding right past them. His calm expression hints to the others that (Y/n) is no longer in critical condition, so they are confused with his determination to leave her side so soon.

“Where ‘ya goin’,” Scott inquires.

“To see Odin.”

[Next Part]

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