#gothel mention

[dudadrawings17]

Maleficent: I just hope these little goblins inside of me decide to be born very soon! I can't take this pregnancy any longer! Ursula: enjoy while you can, darling! After your babies are born, THEN you'll wish you'd still be pregnant! Cruella: at least you have Chernabog doing everything for you. Ursula: who would guess the Disney version of Satan would be such a soft papa, right? Maleficent: why, just because we have horns, like black and green colors, and we're both related to evil and Hell, we can't be good parents?? Wow, rude!

— x — x — x — x — x —

Frollo: you know... You remind me of someone... Gothel: oh yeah? Who? Frollo: your raven hair, your emerald eyes... Are you single, my dear? Gothel: I'm a single mother. Is that a problem to you. Frollo: not at all. I'm a single father too.

— x — x — x — x — x —

Cruella: say it again, darling! Clayton: I ~kill~ animals. Cruella: oooohh yeah, babe! What else? Clayton: I ~sell~ them for riches. Cruella: oooh you evil man! Clayton: now tell me, my darling. What animal you desire the most? A coat made of leopard fur? Shoes made of crocodile skin? An elephant head to decorate your living room? Say it, and I shall have whatever pleases you! Cruella: I want... A ~dalmatian~ coat! Clayton: ... Say what?

— x — x — x — x — x —

Silver: are you sure about this, James? Hook: about what, John? Silver: I don't know... It's the very first time we're leaving Pietra alone with mr. Smee... Hook: oh, don't worry, my dear. Smee knows he better take good care of our daughter if he doesn't want his ass to be kicked.

— x — x — x — x — x —

Jafar: (on the cellphone) Hades, where are you? Hades: I left earlier, Jaffar. I'm tired. Jafar: what?? Where are you going?? Hades: home. Jafar: are you kidding me?? Get your ass back here! You drunk too much! Hades: relax, will you? I took a cab! Jafar: WE WERE DRINKING IN YOUR HOME, YOU ANIMAL! Hades: ... Then where am I going??

[the-diabolic-acid]

there was a post that showed up on my dash about mother gothel and antisemitism but the op blocked reblogs, and i would like to talk about it because the take was really bad and filled me with anger and this is my blog i make the rules. i have no clue how old it is. i dont care im upset and i wanna talk about it sjfkdgj

cw for discussions of antisemitism in tangled under the thing i got a lot of thoughts so read more my beloved

This is a bad take.

Whether or not it was intentional, Mother Gothel looks like a jewish woman. Her name is mother Gothel. making the protagonist of this story a blonde haired blue eyed girl who was kidnapped by a woman with dark curly hair and a hooked nose has implications whether you wanted to have them or not.

Not to mention! Blood libel! for anyone who is not aware, blood libel is a very old antisemitic trope that is found in Tons of pieces of media, where jews are accused of kidnapping and murdering goyim and using their blood in religious rituals. A lot of stories will use this trope without even realizing it, (Dracula is one that immediately comes to mind) which is why it is so important we talk about antisemitism and how pervasive it is.

A story about a woman with jewish features, named mother gothel, who kidnapped a blonde haired blue eyed girl and used her in a ritual to keep herself young has implications. Very bad implications. Passive antisemitism and active antisemitism are different, but getting defensive when someone (especially jewish people) tell you that a piece of media is harmful is in fact antisemitic and is very frustrating.

Yes! If you create a characters with stereotypically jewish features, especially in a medium that has a Very long history of jew coding its villains, that is a problem. You can say it wasn't intentional, but please tell that to all the kids in disney circles who compared me to mother gothel. (News flash, I don't look like the VA. I look like an ashkenazi jew.)

This isn't to say you can't still love Tangled. I'm in the fandom. I'd be a complete hypocrite. But ignoring the harmful parts only makes things worse.

By the way, a side note, I was not seething when I read this, but then I read the tags.

I'm sorry but. No? Respectfully can we not compare an antisemitic villain (she is antisemitic. I don't care if it wasn't intentional. Her design hurts jewish people.) to a genocidal maniac? Out of all the disney villains you could have picked to make that point you picked the one who explicitly wanted to commit genocide. I'm sorry but I really do not understand how you thought that was an OK and good point to make.

[error-dark]

I am a bit terrified that my silly little au may be accurate to canon...

I am not prepared mentally and emotionally for what Ruin would do to Solar!

I am not prepared for Bloodmoon facing Ruin!

I am not prepared for Ruin gonna try to take Solar away from Bloodmoon!

I-

[birb-tangleblog]

It’s such a funny feeling seeing screenshots from the S3 midseason and swooning over the animation and Cassandra’s expressions... but then remembering the actual writing of that episode.

[hookaroo]

Laden of the Torn (12 of 25)

AO3 link Catch up on tumblr: One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven Tagging @priscilla9993 @cocohook38 <3

***

Killian soon discovered that the wait for supplies was not the only motivation for keeping the hooks embedded. The net was still attached in several places when the high-ranking black monkey made a reappearance with a single command: 

“Secure them for Favor.”

Immediately, scorching anguish tore across Killian's shoulders as he was pulled to his knees by the remaining attached piercings. Stifling a yelp, he scrambled to accommodate their apparent wishes.

"No need to get rough." His head spun and his arms trembled beneath his weight. "If you want me to do something, all you need do is ask."

Killian worked to catch his breath as he settled carefully down onto his haunches. The attempt to avoid putting weight on the hooks in the backs of his legs and backside ultimately proved futile. He tried to focus instead on what more he could see of their surroundings now that he wasn't pinned to the floor.

Strings of fish and drying plant matter hung from the wall to his left, no more than two meters away. These were attached to loops of metal drilled directly into the stone wall, and even as he watched, it quickly became apparent that these would serve another purpose as well. A short distance away, the hands and feet of the unconscious Blackbeard had been thoroughly bound with sinewy cord, and now, that cord was being secured by an impressively athletic primate climbing the very rings projecting from the stone. Not an impossible trap to get out of, especially for a pirate, but it would certainly slow him down. And good luck trying to go unnoticed with this many eyes around.

Killian's own bound feet were already tethered to the same wall, and before the first climber had even finished securing Blackbeard, a second leapt onto Killian's shoulder and hauled a corner of the net-cape up to its level, as if fishing over the side of a human-shaped boat. The monkey on the wall curled its tail around a projection and leaned toward its comrade, who fed lengths of tangled netting into its outstretched paws. Killian braced himself for more pain, and it wasn't long in coming: the strands on that side pulled mercilessly at his inflamed skin as the ropes were tied among the cave dwellers' food stores… perhaps not as out-of-place as he would have preferred.

Cursing softly, Killian scooted awkwardly backwards to allow himself more slack. "Is this how you treat all your visitors?"

He was trying to sound nonchalant but only managed pleading. Busy overseeing the proceedings, Mandible flashed his teeth in apology.

"This is for the protection of our healers and our chieftain. He wishes to speak with you."

"Well there's no need for all of this." Killian sucked in a hissing breath as the other corner of the net joined the first, leaving his upper back awash in pulsating pain. "I give my word that I don't intend to harm any of you."

"We dare not take that risk," the black monkey growled back from a good distance away. "And you are in no position to demand otherwise."

Killian bit his tongue. If he didn't move, the pain was tolerable, but every time he shifted his weight the tiniest fraction, it was like claws were tearing him open, fiber by individual fiber, until it seemed the skin covering his back must soon turn inside out in one long strip of flayed flesh. And to add to the misery, his legs were already beginning to cramp up; what would happen when he needed to move off of them?

Off to the side, Mandible stirred vigorously at a substance within a shallow dish, and Killian caught a whiff of something strongly herbal that hinted at the healing arts. A tiny helper lugged a ceramic vessel, tucked under one arm, almost as big around as the little fellow's whole torso. He or she placed the burden within reach of Mandible and scampered away, leaving the lid secured.

Killian's arm was mostly free of netting, so he had been resting his hand on his thigh, using it for balance despite how it burned from fingertips up past the elbow. But then a being that seemed to be little more than white fluff appeared out of nowhere, grabbed onto the fishhook in his finger, and pulled. Killian shifted his weight and allowed his hand to be manipulated into the desired position, hanging loosely at his side and low enough for a rope noose to be secured around his wrist. These monkeys were not taking any chances.

Killian did not resist the brutal treatment, hoping that with good behavior he might earn their trust, especially that of their leader. Whatever deal they intended to offer probably depended on his admittedly rusty diplomacy skills. And as long as they still saw him as a threat, he remained in danger.

At first, it seemed the plan was to attach this newest rope to one of the hooks behind his head, joining the knots already there. But at an unintelligible command by Mandible, the miniature cotton puff at his side instead vaulted his knees in a single bound before scaling the dangling net like a rope ladder. It tied a knot near his shoulder, so that his arm rested loosely across his torso, with enough slack to allow some movement, but not enough to pose any threat to the primates gathered around.

Mandible took one look at the mess along Killian's forearm and immediately grabbed a monkey-sized bucket and ladle, along with a pawful of fibrous, cotton-like material. He settled himself atop Killian's thigh, not seeming to mind the slope as his miniature clawed toes found purchase in the fabric there. One of his assistants sprang closer with a short, flaming torch in paw. Using his long tail for balance, Mandible filled the ladle and stretched himself into a bipedal stance.

"Just water," he explained as the first trickle washed grit and caked blood from Killian's lacerated arm. While the ginger-furred assistant provided torchlight from a cautious distance, Mandible used his roll of cotton to dab away the grime.

It was more than a little bit surreal, watching Mandible tend to the wound in jerky, non-human movements. Killian could almost believe it to be a dream, except the pain was all too real. And the diminutive primate could exert a surprising amount of force behind the agonizing scrubbing.

Reflex jerked Killian's arm toward his chest as rough cotton discovered Blackbeard's buried needle with a deep lance of heat that seemed to radiate down to the marrow. Killian cursed, then apologized, but none of the monkeys in the vicinity seemed offended, if they even understood.

For a few seconds, Mandible leaned closer to peer at the throbbing lump, gesturing at the torchbearer in a request for more light. Then he set aside bucket and ladle to free his paws. The healer monkey seemed to have no qualms about causing his patient additional pain and went straight for the anomaly he'd spotted, obviously intending to dig it out through the torn flesh nearby. As thorn-like claws probed the area, Killian gritted his teeth, grunting,

"No plans to use your fangs, Mandible?"

"Good guess." Dainty fingers burrowed deeper. "But the name did not originate from the use of my own jaws for healing."

Another lightning bolt sizzled through Killian's arm as questing fingers found their mark.

"And besides," continued Mandible, "Torn blood is much more palatable when properly cooked."

Killian fixed his murderous stare on the unconscious Blackbeard: mental curses really ought to be aimed at the true cause of his suffering, not the torturer only trying to help.

Amazing, how easily the full repertoire of creative vulgarities came back to him despite so many years of trying to censor himself around his little girl. And honestly, Blackbeard deserved each and every one.

The flare grew white hot for an instant, the swollen flesh not easily surrendering the deeply buried needle. But Mandible's grip won out and, at last, the offending metal slid free.

Killian waited a few heartbeats for the pain to fade, then grimaced a smile. "Thank you. Much better."

Mandible was busy examining the red-tinged needle, likely checking to make sure it had remained intact, though for a moment Killian wondered whether he might decide to finish what Blackbeard had started with it. But then the healer set the needle to the side and resumed his enthusiastic scrubbing, ignoring the loose thread trailing from the wound.

"You must get plenty of practice at this," Killian commented tightly. "Considering the geography of the place you've chosen to call home."

"Probably less than you imagine. Our pelts are much tougher than yours, especially on our paws, and we are taught from birth the best way to traverse the Stone Forest."

Mandible set aside his cotton and reached for a small bowl containing crushed plant matter. "Plus, with our four-legged gait and our tails for balance, we are naturally more graceful than you Torn."

Wincing, Killian relived each tumble he had taken among the razor stone. "Can't argue with that."

"But accidents do happen from time to time, and you are fortunate that they do, because we may not have been so well-prepared otherwise." He took a pawful of the herbal paste and began to apply it to the gathering blood. Killian drew some controlled breaths in anticipation of the burn, but it was not nearly as harsh as he'd been expecting. Not exactly soothing, but nothing like the scald of a rum rinse.

Mandible included the already-sutured half of the wound in his painting, then used the residue to cover the clotted hole in the back of Killian's hand where a fishhook had been torn free. That done, the healer monkey left his perch to retrieve the as-yet untouched ceramic vessel. He handed it off to the torchbearer, who could barely even lift it, considering it was at least twice as big as her entire arm. Mandible clambered back on to Killian's thigh and twisted toward his assistant. His hind claws dug into Killian's trousers as he leaned sideways and cautiously lifted the lid a few inches. Killian caught a brief impression of writhing, skittering shadows, but then Mandible's paw flashed in and out in a movement reminiscent of a serpent strike. The healer replaced the lid just as quickly. He now held in an expert grip a dark mass of frantically struggling, jointed twigs. Obviously not actual twigs, but they certainly shared a disconcerting resemblance. What concerned Killian more were the massive jaws chomping again and again at empty air.

"Bloody hell; is that an ant or an immature lobster?"

"We call them Warrior Ants." Mandible squared himself with his patient, placing his free paw on Killian's arm for stability. "I did not invent this technique but have perfected its use among the First."

It did not take much imagination to guess what he was about to do. Eyeing the giant insect warily, Killian grimaced,

"Hence, Mandible?"

"This time, you are correct."

Without further ado, Mandible thrust the snapping jaws at Killian's wound, directly beside the point where Blackbeard's suturing left off.

The bite felt comparable to the sting of a Neverland Cockerel Wasp, though its burn started to fade faster. While Killian was still fighting the impulse to tear his arm away from the assault, Mandible performed a practiced twist of the wrist that parted the ant's head from its body, leaving a black sphere with two tightly clenched jaws embedded in either side of the laceration. The insect's legs were still twitching feebly as Mandible popped the decapitated body into his mouth.

"And nothing is wasted; an honorable death, wouldn't you agree?"

Killian watched as the monkey opened the container of ants and prepared to select another. "And this treatment is effective, is it?"

“The jaws stay locked in place for two to three days, after which they may need to be replaced, depending on the severity of the wounds.”

Alice would be fascinated by this. Not just the giant ants, but everything: the super-intelligent monkeys, the sharp Stone Labyrinth; hell, even Blackbeard over there, snoring away as though he hadn't a care in the world. Killian could hardly believe any of it himself, even with all he'd seen in his travels. So often had he wished for the ability to allow her to see such things for herself, to counteract the cruelty of imprisoning such an inquisitive mind. 

Although, as a second pair of ant jaws gnawed his flesh just beside the other, and he had to bite his tongue to keep from cursing aloud, Killian concluded that it was probably for the best that she was not here at the moment. There were plenty of other amazing places in the world he could show her that would not result in hours of meticulous and agonizing wound care, innovative though it may be. There had to be adventures far less painful that they could share together… someday…

***

Favor of the First Clan was a deep reddish-gold color, sleek fur framing his face like a lion’s mane and garbing the rest of him in an appropriately royal robe all the way to the tip of his feathery tail. He did not strike Killian as either remarkably large or small compared to the rest; almost exactly middle-of-the-road, in fact. An hourglass of silvery bare skin contained his facial features, which currently rested in a quietly neutral expression. Flanked by a retinue of followers, Favor came to a stop just behind Mandible’s assistant, so that he would be out of range of any sudden attempts at attack, as well as squarely in the strongest torchlight in the vicinity. He paused to study Blackbeard briefly, then cast a roaming gaze over Killian, whose kneeling pose was only incidentally deferential.

The chieftain addressed his healer first. “Do you have everything you need, Mandible?” 

His voice was as silky as his shining pelt, but its tone held a natural authority commanding instant attention. Mandible positioned a struggling ant in line with the growing number of severed heads clamped firmly into the skin all along Killian’s wound.

“Yes, Favor. The Torn intruders are in little danger of perishing from their injuries.”

“Good.” Chocolate eyes glinted in the firelight, peering into Killian’s wary gaze. “I am Favor, chief among the First Clan. Have you been advised of your situation, Laden of the Torn?”

“My situation hardly requires explanation,” Killian answered ruefully. “What I haven’t been told is what exactly you need from me so badly that you’re willing to spare my life to obtain it.”

Tawny twins crouching behind Favor shared a look of wordless disapproval at his tone, but Favor only appeared tired. 

“The fact is, Laden…” He stopped, made a furtive survey of the cave over his shoulder, then continued in a low voice. “Our rival clan dealt us a terrible blow recently, and you may be our only hope of restoring what they took.”

“Rival clan?” This was the first time Killian had considered the possibility that there may be more than one faction of these creatures. Favor bared his teeth, and even Mandible took on something of a sour expression as he dipped his fingers back into the ceramic pot. Killian glanced down at his arm, wondering how many more ants would lose their heads to finish closing the wound.

“The Less,” hissed Favor. “Savage little brutes. Always scheming, coming up with ways to expand their territory or otherwise raise their status over ours. We try not to antagonize them, but you must understand, our lands have belonged to the First for many generations, and we will always defend them.”

Killian shifted his weight, trying to relieve the worsening tingling in his feet. Pierced flesh that had gone relatively quiet suddenly flared as his movements tugged at penetrating steel. 

“I won’t be much help securing your borders,” he growled. “You can see for yourselves how poorly I’ve managed to navigate this terrain.” 

Furious insect jaws chomped into lacerated skin, emphasizing Killian’s point, and he gritted his teeth through the sting. 

“Our borders are secure," Favor assured him. "Though they do try, the Less have inferior warriors and unreliable weaponry, and must admit defeat every time. However, six days ago, they… you see, the best of our fighters were occupied in a skirmish, to the north, in the Triple Cascades region, and…” The chieftain seemed to grow smaller, his ears drooping and his tail wrapping protectively around his haunches. “I failed to post enough guards here at the Burrow, and Less cowards crept in and some of our sentries were slain and… a child was taken.” 

The sudden wave of heat coursing up Killian’s spine was not pain, but inspired understanding. That look in Favor’s eyes… How could he have missed it before? It was everything Killian was forced to see when faced with his own reflection. And despite the rough treatment he’d received here, his heart went out to the small creature before him.

“Not just a child. Your child. Yes?”

Favor blinked once in slow defeat. “The future matriarch of the First. My only heir, now fated to become…” 

Golden fur stood on end, then rippled into a shudder. Favor’s distress was nearly palpable, and Killian barely even noticed when Mandible quietly transitioned from ant-wrangler to bandage-wrapper. 

None of the monkeys dared glance in their leader’s direction as he took a moment to regain his composure. They fidgeted with their claws, scratched or groomed themselves anxiously, and even Mandible’s assistant kept her gaze anchored on the torchlight she was providing. Finally, Favor bared his teeth.

“Puzzle is not yet capable of producing an heir for that villain Lack. When she does, our clan will be absorbed into theirs, our people enslaved and our lands forfeit. And she will be given no choice in the matter.”

Bile rose in Killian’s throat, having little to do with his physical condition, and for an instant, he half expected Blackbeard’s ugly face to dissolve into Gothel’s even more repulsive one. To be similarly taken advantage of, and at a young age at that…

“I’m truly sorry,” he managed to say, suppressing a shudder of revulsion.  “I take it your attempts at rescue have failed?”

Favor lowered his head, half in shame, half in sullen petulance. “We are forbidden to interfere. She is theirs by law, and we cannot venture to claim her back, at least not directly, or we risk the wrath of the gods.”

Killian almost scoffed. Not at the mention of their deities or the outdated regulations permitting a young one to be stolen from her family and forced to mate with their enemy, but at the concept of a father not doing everything in his power to get her back, consequences be damned. But… the curse on his heart… didn’t that feel like a smiting every time he entered Alice’s presence? And wasn’t he allowing it to keep them apart for fear of that pain?

He could not, in fairness, fault Favor for his reluctance.

“But sending in a neutral third party,” Killian reasoned, “that would be considered an ‘indirect’ attempt?”

“The law does not forbid it.”

This was apparently the best answer Favor could provide, but Killian was no stranger to exploiting the rules in any given situation. 

“And what are the chances that this rival clan doesn’t slaughter me on sight?”

“That is a risk,” Favor admitted. “But I believe their chieftain will have a particular interest in meeting you.”

“For argument’s sake, let’s say you’re right. How do I persuade the Less Clan to release your daughter? It sounds as though I’ll need something quite valuable to offer in exchange.”

Favor lost some of his confidence then, pensively watching his healers as they began to pluck the vicious barbs from their prisoner’s skin. “Sadly, their victory makes anything we might offer them redundant.”

Killian squeezed his eyes shut as a particularly stubborn fishhook took a painful piece of flesh while tearing free. “Bloody hell. Well then I can’t imagine I’ll be very convincing. Unless this chieftain is far more merciful than you’ve made him out to be.”

Instead of responding immediately, Favor took a moment to size Killian up once again, dark eyes taking in all of the metal barbs yet to be removed, the bandage covering his wounded arm, his general exhausted pallor from days of sickness and a rough road. He must have seen through all of that, down to the sacred parental role they had in common, for no hesitation or doubt showed as he said,

“There is another way. If we appoint you as the First Clan champion, any challenge you raise, they must answer. Defeat their champion, and by sacred law, you may claim even their most prized possession as your spoils.”

Killian nearly laughed out loud. Perhaps he’d been naïve to have sworn off all dueling after his latest disaster… but he hadn’t expected to be required to break that vow so soon after making it. “Fight your battle for you, you mean.”

“It is the only way,” Favor confirmed gravely, oblivious or maybe just unconcerned about the ludicrous burden he was placing on Killian’s shoulders. On his best day, the pirate wouldn’t have thought twice about his chances against any of these excitable creatures, even the larger, more menacing ones. But he wasn’t exactly in his prime anymore, and weakened by the journey and hampered by injury…

“You’re asking a hell of a lot from an ignorant stranger you caught wandering your territory. What makes you think I’m anywhere near the right person for the job?”

“Our scouts have been watching you, Laden. We know you did not come here by choice and are not driven by such selfish motives as your Torn captor. We sense that you can be trusted with this task. You will not betray the First.”

Killian’s concern was more of physical failure than whether or not they trusted him. But what choice did he have, really? If he refused to help, he was almost certainly a dead man.

“If I succeed in bringing your princess back,” he said half-heartedly, “do I have your word that you will then release me?”

“That, and anything else you desire which is within our power to grant.”

“‘Within your power’ is a far cry from the unlimited wish-granting of legend, mate.”

“But better than leaving with nothing but your life.”

Mandible spoke up from his position atop Killian’s leg. “Do not dismiss our offer so easily, Laden. If we are able to cure your heart and restore you to your daughter, then it will be a fair trade indeed.”

Killian stared down at him, taken aback by the casual way he had just thrown those words out there. As if it would be so simple. Was it possible?

“You need not decide tonight,” said Favor, and the weary grief was back in his tone. “We will give you until tomorrow, and perhaps when you are feeling better, you will see the sense in such an arrangement.”

Without further discussion, Favor turned his back and departed the way he had come, taking most of his attendants with him. When he was out of earshot, Mandible looked up into Killian’s eyes and said sorrowfully,

“Favor did not mention this, but he also lost his mate in the same raid. Our current matriarch. Having our princess back would do much to restore joy to the First Clan. And we would then gladly use all of our resources to help find a way to return yours.”

[panthera-tigris-venenata]

Ginny Gothel prompt: “I have such soft hair and nobody is playing with it!”

Obviously involving disaster threesome.

@humaforever I’m tagging you here since you asked for similar prompt, hopefuly you don’t mind.

Anyway. Ginny Gothel. If you were wondering what’s wrong with her, she’s massively iron deficient, through definitely absolutely NO fault of her mother’s. (She’s probably also high, but psst.) (She’s not okay.)

I didn’t mange to write Harriet into the actual plot, she’s only mentioned, but this is very much disaster threesome story. Just saying.

I hope you enjoy!

„My hair is so soft,“ Ginny sighs, pulling at one of her curls and then letting it spring loose. And again, and again. It’s pretty.

„Mmhm,“ mutters Mad Maddy in obvious disinterest. If she didn’t run her „Apothecary“ as she did, Ginny might have considered poisoning her. …Then again, it might not have been effective anyway. (Don’t ask, you’re better off not knowing.)

„My hair is so soft,“ Ginny repeats, lifting her head to look at Maddy, who is still sitting opposite her, which is neat.

„And?“ Maddy finally answers.

„And?!“ Ginny squeals in exasperation and sits up fully, which has the unfortunate effect of making the world spin in front of her eyes. „My hair is so amazingly soft, Maddy, and no one is playing with it!“

„Well, that just sounds like a you problem,“ Maddy says. To make the matters worse, she is playing with one of her broken dolls, running her nails through its tangled hair. Which is very mean of her, and Ginny tells her so. But Maddy only preens in response.

Yeah, Ginny was going for that, totally. After all, Maddy is her dealer.

So Ginny bites her lip and continues playing with her hair herself, which is extremely unfair and heartbreaking, really. She sighs audibly every few moments, hoping to get a more sympathetic reaction out of the other girl.

„For fucks sake, Gin!“ Maddy finally snaps, „Go annoy someone else! Harriet or Anthony! You’re being a horny bitch in my Apothecary, and you know the rules!“

„The rules are “No kissing in the Apothecary”!“ Protests Ginny.

„The rules are “No kissing or fucking in the Apothecary, and also no traitorous purple headed fae”, and they’re being updated!“ snarks Maddy back, „Besides, Junior and Trois said they’d be coming in the evening, and I don’t need you scaring off customers!“

It is dim already, but it is dim always. Anyone’s guess when „evening“ is. Or when the Gaston twins think it is.

Ginny makes a face: „And what are the rules being updated to?“

„No being a whiny horny bitch,“ concludes Maddy triumphantly, and raises her doll to the face level. Ginny makes a face at the doll too–

„Out!“ commands Maddy, pointing at the door with her free hand.

Ginny stands up abruptly, and fuck, the world whites out for a moment. She hisses through her teeth, and knows that Maddy doesn’t even look at her; her hand shots out against the wall, to steady her, and her nails leave incisions in it.

Neat.

„Fine,“ she says as she rakes her nails along the wall for greater effect, „I didn’t wanna stay here anyway.“

As she leaves, she almost runs into the Gaston twins by the door – they only just step away from her way, which is good, because otherwise she’d fall and she might not want to get up again.

She steps into frigid Isle air and behind her, Maddy yells at the twins: „Well what are you waiting for? One of you go with her! If something happens to her, Harriet will throw a temper tantrum and it’ll be my problem!“

Needless to say, Maddy does not wish to deal with angry Harriet Hook. Unfortunately, Ginny – if she says so herself – doesn’t need a bloody bodyguard.

She whirls around as fast as she dares and tells Trois so, with her dagger pointed vaguely in the direction of his neck. As if that would do any good – she aims the dagger to a significantly lower place. Trois pales a bit.

He doesn’t tell her to relax or calm down, which earns him a small insignificant plus.

Ginny narrows her eyes at him anyway.

A broken doll flies through the still open door and whacks Trois in the back of the head: he drops her voice to barely more than whisper: „I’ll go behind you. Respectful distance. You won’t even know I’m here.“

Silence. Her knife doesn’t move.

„Come on, Gin, we both know the next thing she’s throwing at me is gonna explode–“

Yes, and it would likely ruin both her clothes and her hair, which would be absolutely unforgivable – And she simply isn’t talking with Maddy anymore, thank you for asking. So without another word, Ginny turns back around and marches straight ahead; her head protests the sudden movement, but hey. That’s fine. She’s not smelling ozone yet, not really, and as long as she’s not fainting, she’s good to go.

She takes a moment of her precious time to curse her mother and her dubious rituals – Auradon and it’s fucking Barrier.

Trois stays in respectful distance, as he promised, but Ginny can hear him behind her all the same. She ignores him. She doesn’t bother hiding her dagger.

It doesn’t take her long to cross the Isle to Anthony’s saloon, not with that look in her eyes and Gaston’s son at her back. Just the last corner – she exhales loudly and waves Trois away. He can only now leave without Maddy yelling at him (His fault for being a horrible liar, really.)

However, Ginny finds she’s hard pressed to care.

Instead, she checks her reflection in the dark window: A cape of the colour of fine dark wine, and the lipstick to match, smudged just enough to drive Anthony crazy. A dagger in her hand – she should probably hide it now. (So the knife disappears, though not before she checks her reflection in it too.) (Her eyes are open wide.) She pulls at her hair and watches as her reflection’s curls spring back into place.

She is jealous of her reflection.

With a resolute shake of her head, (her hair bouncing all around), she stops looking at herself and walks into the saloon. „Anthony!“ she exclaims over the awful wind-chimes that Dizzy loves and that give her an instant headache.

To her eternal annoyance, no one comes.

„Anthony–“ the doors click shut behind her and she allows the slightest hint of whine to slip into her voice.

Finally, footsteps – though far too light and perky to be his. Ginny grimaces and pulls at her hair.

She doesn’t bother hiding the grimace as Dizzy Tremaine rounds the corner, only narrowing her eyes at the younger girl. Which effectively freezes her mid-greeting, which is good, since she’s always so annoyingly cheerful and the world is so rude and unjust.

Dizzy’s accessories are sparkling in the lacklustre light of the saloon and it’s giving Ginny headache, too. She closes her eyes for just a second, just to stop looking at little Dizzy’s honestly offensive jewellery.

„Holly evil–“ When Ginny opens her eyes again, little Dizzy is standing right next to her, her hand hovering over her elbow. „Come sit down,“ Dizzy says as she guides her to the worn out sofa.

„I wish to speak with Anthony–“ protests Ginny quite fruitlessly, as the little Tremaine has disappeared already. Finding little usefulness in going to look for her, Ginny sinks into the once–decadent pillows – It’s Tremaine’s saloon, isn’t it? Anthony will come to check sooner or later. She is tired.

Dizzy reappears, holding out a glass of clear liquid for her to take: Water. Probably. Possibly. Poison. Bleach. Ginny reaches for the glass and brings it to her lips, almost, almost – She tips the whole glass down, lets the liquid pour down and the glass clutter uselessly on the floor. It doesn’t break. She stares at Dizzy; Dizzy stares back, for barely a heartbeat. Then she sighs, bends down to pick up the glass, and says: „Alright. I’ll go get Anthony for you.“

As she bounces away, Ginny pulls at her curls. „You’d be such a dear for that,“ she manages to say as the little Tremaine bounces away, just the right level of saccharin in her voice.

If she’d care to listen, she might have heard the Tremaine cousins talking and giggling upstairs, Anthony disciplining them. His steps as he walks downstairs. No annoying chimes this time.

„Ginny?“ She looks up at him, and abruptly stands up. Her world goes white again, and she tastes metal for just a heartbeat, „Sunflower, what’s wrong?“ In another heartbeat, he’s hugging her tight, which is probably a good thing. For closely unspecified reasons. She clings to his shoulders, tightly enough for her nails to hurt him even through all the layers he is wearing, and breathes in through clenched teeth. Then again. And again. If she’d have to guess, she’d say that the world has returned to its miserable true colours by now, but, you see, checking would require her to lift her head from his shoulder. Which would be a shame.

She breathes in again and loosens her grip on him. „What’s wrong?“ he asks again, as if the answer wasn’t „Every-fucking-thing,“ or, alternatively, „Existence.“

Instead, she leans away a bit, his hands moving to her hips, and slowly answers: „I have such soft hair, Anthony–“

He smiles: „I know. I did your hair just this morning, remember?“ As if that was relevant just now.

She swats at his shoulder lightly – don’t interrupt me! He presses his lips together in an exasperated expression, holding it only long enough for her to notice. Which is, of course, why she pretends she didn’t see.

„As I was saying,“ she starts again, „I have such soft hair,“ („Thanks to me.“), „And no one is playing with it!“

„Oh?“ he flashes a half-smirk at her and runs his fingers along her scalp, „That better, then?“

„Much.“

Ginny would be content to stay like this for quite a long time, so she’s understandably quite annoyed when she realises Anthony doesn’t agree. Selfish traitor.

„Ginny, what did you do the whole day?“ he asks, as if it was any of his concern.

„Visited mother. Then Maddy,“ she answers anyway, because he is playing with her hair and because it is nice. She hides her face in his neck again.

He mutters something like „I’m gonna kill both of them,“ but his fingers are still in her hair, so it takes her a moment to react. „You leave Maddy alone–“

„Perfect,“ he says with a teasing smirk, „I’m gonna tell Harriet we’re free to take a go at your lovely mother.“

„No!“

„Why not, though?“

Well, for starters… Ginny presses closer to him and says: „If you’d both go track my mother down, I’d have no one to play with my hair. Again.“ She keeps the absolutely genuine betrayal and hurt and accusation clear in her voice.

He tugs at her hair: „And we can’t have that.“

„Exactly.“

Now he’s getting it.

Though, one must say, Harriet sure looks hot when on the warpath.

It’s quiet for a while, save for some giggling girls that are quickly glared away.

„You feeling better now, Sunflower?“ he asks finally, „I’ve got work to do, you know?“

Ginny leans away and summons tears to her eyes: „Ditch,“ she breathes out.

„I can’t–“

„Fuck your grandmother. Ditch,“ she looks up at him, leaning closer, and his grip in her hair tightens, „I want to see Harriet.“

He swallows heavily, eyes at her lips and the smudged lipstick, which is probably printed into his shirt too, now, and moves his hand to her cheek. „Okay,“ he says, „Let’s go find Harriet.“

[come-along-pond]

KING OF MY HEART OC CAST:

Lucy Boynton as Gabrielle ‘Rain’ Gothel

Aimee Lou Wood as Ruby Fitzherbert

BE OUR GUEST OC CAST:

Maya Hawke as Arabella ‘Bella’ Beast

Sydney Sweeney as Charlotte ‘Charlie’ Charming

Ellie Bamber as Meribeth ‘Beth’ of DunBroch

Laura Marano as Genevieve ‘Gen’ Westergaard-Gothel

[isleofdarkness]

Harriet didn't plan to get pregnant, but Aeden and Faolan happened anyway and she couldn't be happier with them. She will get extremely angry if someone refers to her twins as "accidents." They aren't accidents, not to her, they're miracles. Serendipity- a surprise that brings happiness and good fortune. That's what her boys and Ginny's girl are to her.

[piraterefrigerator]

I only acknowledge certain parts of season seven. Certain parts include Weaver, Rogers, Alice, Robin, and sometimes Sabine. I don't like anyone else.

[thetoaddaddy]

Red diamond! Fav book!

101 Grimms fairytales. They’re unhinged the whacky translations to make it still rhyme in English. Hilarious, wild, I love it so much.

My favs of the classic fairytales more commonly known it Rapunzel. Mother Gothel cuts off Rapunzel’s hair in retaliation for running off to fuck the prince and uses her magic to send her to the desert. She lures the prince to the tower and when she tells him what she did he falls out the window dramatically and pierces his eyes with thorns from a rose bush. Wanders around for years blind wailing in sorrow at his lost love. Stumbles across Rapunzel randomly and their twins she gave birth to while in exile. His sight is magically restored and they go back to the kingdom to much joy and fanfare.

Idk why they would cut that out in movie adaptations shit is amazing.

[ynwh0]

I love Tangled, but JFC, does Mother Gothel hit too close to home. Bitch gives me panic attacks

[kiwisandpearls]

That’s a fair point lol. Even then though, Casssandra was abandoned by Mother Gothel for another child, and that’s obviously gonna mess with a person.

not sure if this is a hot take but being honest I feel like people who say Cassandra’s villain arc was unrealistic have never dealt with a parent like Mother Gothel.

[littlenahsstuff]

When will my life begin-pt. 1

Chloe Charming x Red x f!reader

Synopsis- you are Rapunzel’s daughter but don’t know it because Mother Gothel survived and took you too. You possess similar powers to your real mother but they don’t work as well. Red and Chloe are visiting wonderland for the first time since the time travel and Red is nervous. She decides to take Chloe her new girlfriend to a mysterious tower from her childhood and they meet you.

Warnings: not proofread, angst, mentions of abusive parents, anxiety, fluff, slower burn, you just meet so no relationships until at least part two.

Almost 3.5k words

I really hope you enjoy!

~~~~~~~

You awoke in your cramped tower, another lonely day. Mother says you can’t leave, you mustn’t. Evil people will hurt you just like your real parents. “You are weak and helpless and they’ll eat you,” is repeated daily.

You have a special gift; you can bring life and healing when singing. Mother loves your tricks but they are somewhat rare and you have a hard time making it actually work. She gets so mad at you, she says harsh punishment is the way to make it work. So far you still screw up.

She barely leaves you alone, the only time you can relax is when she takes her daily naps. Her “Beauty sleep”. Or when she goes on supply runs. You only ever let your thoughts drift then. To that one time you saw a flash of red outside. You were only 13 then and it’s been years but you always did wonder who it was.

***

Red was beyond nervous, Chloe a little too. She had to be strong for her new girlfriend, however. Red was dealing with healing from the trauma still and this visit was making her sick. She knows her mother is better but the whole time travel being dangerous thing has her waiting for the other ball to drop.

“It’ll be alright, promise Heart,” Chloe said it, trying to soothe her. She holds her hand whilst keeping the other on the steering wheel.

When they get there it’s a lot less gloomy than it was originally and the kingdom sits in the midst of a massive ring of roses. Red holds a smeck of comfort that the change brought her home some real peace, but the gnawing feeling never ceases.

“Yeah… I know” Red sighs. “I feel as if-“

“This is just a facade?” Chloe interrupts. “I realize how scary this is; I, myself, worry something went wrong but for now we have to play the part. It’s okay to be scared. You grew up with the most terrifying women I’ve ever seen.

They got to the entrance.

“Well… let’s face this then.” Red decides. She gets out and waits before entering.

Queen Bridget stands ready to greet her daughter, coming in for a bear hug. At least this time both her and Chloe are squished. She still flinched a little but was quickly soothed by a comforting tap on her wrist from Chloe.

“It’s good to see you… Mom,” for the first time.

“It’s so good to see you too my muffin cake!” Reds mom squeals. She starts to see more similarities to Pink haired Bridget by the second and she’s still weary, but relieved.

They pull away and Queen Bridget turns to Chloe.

“Oh where are my manners?! Chloe it is so wonderful to see you here again!” Bridget smiles. Not sickenly to Red’s mild shock.

Chloe glances at her girlfriend and they both smile too and shrug.

“Glad to be back too” Chloe replies with a chuckle. Time travel is weird.

“Now as much as I want to talk your ears off you girls must want to settle in first! I’ll have the Tweedle brothers carry your stuff to your room so you can unpack. Now… I wanna hear about any cute dates later but I understand. I’ll wait dears,” she actually GIGGLES and walks away. Not without giving a little squeeze to Reds shoulder.

They both stand there a little awkwardly and Red exhales, feeling like she can fully breathe again. She feels like she needs to get out when an idea pops into her head.

“Hey wanna go see something cool?” Red says excitedly. Chloe nods and red grabs her hand to drag her back out into the wonder woods they passed through on the way there.

“Where are we going?” Chloe whispers when they hit a particularly thick part of the forest.

“I would go into these woods a couple of times when I was younger… around the third time I came across a massively tall tower. I heard pretty singing. I sadly had to leave but when I came back for the seventh time I heard it again. I never really figured out what or who it was but maybe we’ll see if we go again.

And so they trekked further into the heavily wooded area for a few minutes until finally there was a small clearing with a large tower.

Just by luck did they happen to hear a soft melody coming from it. There was clearly someone home and Red couldn’t not pass up the chance to figure it out once and for all. She used to think about this for years after her last encounter.

“Oh no…” Chloe whispers and whips her head, “I know that look. We are not about to do what I think you’re thinking.” Chow huffs

With a role of her eyes, Red replies hushed, “Fine, just me then. I’m gonna figure it out.” She jumps up on the viney stone and finds it stable. She starts climbing and soon after Chloe groans and follows her.

“Does it have to be this high?” Chloe whimpers, daring not to look down. Red is already far enough up that she doesn’t hear her.

***

You finish sweeping when you hear climbing you don’t think much of it, it’s just your mother. You still tense but remain sweeping. You should’ve finished awhile ago, but you enjoyed the free will of being able to daydream while she was on a trip a little too much. You hear footsteps hit the floor and try and finish up faster.

“I’m sorry mother I’ll be better next time, let me finish first!” You hurry out. When there’s a second pair of feet hitting the ground you focus on the window. Two girls stand there.

You drop the broom and scramble back, falling on your back and hitting the wall.

“I- I- who are you?” You question breathlessly.

Red and Chloe both share another look.

“We aren’t here to hurt you!” Chloe hurried out. Red nods and slowly steps forward.

“No, we just heard the singing and wanted to check it out. Are you up here alone? How do you even get down every day?” She questions and you still cower but decide to answer them.

“I’m not supposed to speak to others. Mother will be furious, I- who are you?” You repeat.

“This is Red and I’m Chloe.” The blue haired one speaks. “I am from Auredon, Cinderellasburg specifically and Red is from here in Wonderland. Do you know why you are in this tower?” It’s almost too much but you answer honestly for fear of angering them.

“My parents were killed when I was a baby and my Mother took me here for my protection. This place is called wonderland?” You question. If you are gonna be killed maybe you can learn some stuff. Although, these ladies seem harmless enough and quite pretty. Nothing like the grotesque monsters your mother warned you of.

“Yes, you don’t know?” Red says, you shake your head. Your curiosity is quickly getting the better of you now.

“Please don’t lie what’s it really like out there?” You softly question.

“Well… there a kingdom just past these woods. my castle, oh by the way I’m the princess” Red casually throws in there making your jaw drop “but it’s very…. Beautiful.” She goes for. “There are roses everywhere now.” She adds.

“Oh… your majesty” you bow. You read a book once with a king in it and you knew you were supposed to bow.

“It’s only majesty for kings and queens, it’s- you know what that doesn’t matter you don’t have to be so formal, I am also a princess as well. Again though you don’t have to be so formal.” Chloe urges. You are completely awestruck by the fact that two very lovely princesses happen to be your first real life interaction besides your mother.

“Well… thank you Chloe and Red. I am still honored to be in your presences. Tell me, are these kingdoms violent at all?” You interrogate farther.

“Not too much honestly, like the occasional violent coup but day to day life can be lovely,” Chloe replies. Red looks to be deep in thought.

“So your mother locked you in here? That’s… that’s crazy” she realizes. Then her face lits up.

“Chloe, a quick word in the corner.” The two huddle leaving you to finally pick yourself up from the floor and dust off.

“Are you thinking what im thinking?” Red asks. Chloe bites her lip.

“Unfortunately. This poor girl needs our help. I can’t help but feel she looks familiar somehow.” Chloe frets. She thinks you are beautiful truly, but she can’t figure out for the life of her who you remind her of.

“Okay well I think we need to convince her to leave-

“I’ll do it.” You say, causing them to jump up from the huddle. “You two are loud by the way and this room is pretty small,” you giggle. It feels good, you don’t know the last time you’ve laughed. They both blush.

“That easy?” Red questions and Chloe slaps her lightly.

“What she means to say is, we understand how terrifying this could be and that we are glad you are allowing us to help you.

“I’ve wanted to leave everyday, my mother isn’t even my real mother and yeah, I’m terrified. You two are living proof it’s okay out there.

“So how does your mother get down?” Red asks.

“The vines”, you shudder at realization you will have to climb down. Chloe seems to have an equal reaction.

“Well let’s go get you somewhere less cagey.” Red smirks.

After a very fear filled climb down your bare feet touched the hard ground. The gravel admittedly hurts your sheltered feet and you wince.

“What’s wrong?” Chloe notices.

“Oh, I guess I’m not used to standing on such rocky ground.” You admit shyly and wince again when you take another step.

Red hums.

“Wait a sec.” She starts taking off her boots and hands them to you.

“thank you! I’m sorry if I’m a little slow with all this.” You relent, still very great full.

“Don’t be.” Red smirks.

Chloe turns to her, “is you giving people shoes a habit now?” She snorts.

Red rolls her eyes. You finish putting the boots on and get a little nervous.

“We better go, mother could be back any second.” You say.

“Alright then, let’s go” Red leads.

The walk is so terrifying every sound muffled from your time up high is so much louder. Each cherp, squeak, and buzz makes you jumpier.

It’s all worth it though when you see the red castle.

It’s the grandest thing you’ve ever seen, lit up (it’s now darker outside) and the roses are so stunning and fragrant you want to cry. And you do.

“Hey,” Red says. They both come closer.

“I’m fine it’s just so pretty.” You sob.

“If you think this is pretty wait till you see my room. It’s so cool” Red says excitedly and leads for you and Chloe to follow again.

Reds castle looks so much brighter than she remembers. It’s so well lit she can actually see the high ceilings now.

“Right this way, I need to check in with my Mom… she’ll know what to do.” Red decides. It feels so weird asking her mom for help.

The lounge room is very ornate and there is satin cushioning and mahogany wood everywhere. Reds mom is setting out some tea and snacks, enough that they are clearly for the girls too.

Red clears her throat, “mom I have someone I need you to meet.” She says. Bridget looks up and immediately drops the teapot.

“Oh my,” she tsks, “very sorry dear I just thought you were someone I knew. You look so much like her. Um who are you? It was now that both Red and Chloe shamefully realized they didn’t ask for your name. They were so focused on getting you out they didn’t even find out who you were.

“Y/n your majesty.” You curtsy. The queen inhales sharply.

“You don’t have to be so formal but uh… You wouldn’t happen to have hair that glows when you sing would you?” she questions. You are immediately scrambling to figure out how she possibly knew that.

“That’d be a coincidence, we found her in a tower. She’s like repunzel!” Chloe adds and then immediately gasps. Chloe feels so stupid for not putting two and two together. Meanwhile both you and Red are clueless of what’s happening.

You squeamishly give a “yes”.

“Oh you look just like her.” Chloe realizes.

You want to curl up in a ball. This is already so overwhelming.

“Like whom?” Red nods her head in confusion.

“Well, there was a princess named Rapunzel locked in a tower by an old hag, she would use the girls powers to rejuvenate herself. She originally pretended to be her mother. Her now husband Eugene found her and allowed her to see floating lanterns that appeared on her birthday. Turns out the whole kingdom was setting them off for her. They thought mother Gothel turned to dust but she reappeared and in turn stole her baby. They had no idea where she went and searched the lands. She wasn’t ever found…. Until maybe now?” The queen finished the tale, hope growing on her face by the second. Both you and Red were utterly gobsmacked.

They all turned to you only for you to get extremely lightheaded from the attention and the fact that other than the lanterns, the story completely paralleled yours. You didn’t even know when your birthday was. Your thoughts wage a war and you feel as if your legs are giving out.

Before you hit the floor Chloe catches you.

“Oh rabbits,” The queen exclaims. “You girls be a dear and make sure are guest is alright. I believe I really do have to make a phone call now.” She turns to you, who is still conscious but out of it. “Sweets, I promise you are safe now. This castle is heavily guarded. No one gets in that wasn’t supposed to and while you are technically free to leave at any moment I believe you understand you have to stay for a little bit longer.” She hums and turns shaking her head in disbelief as she heads to the phone in her room.

“I-I” you stutter. The two others give a concerned look.

“Hey it’s gonna be fine, even if you aren’t the lost princess we can keep you save. We promise,” Chloe soothes, Red is now hunched down to your levels.

“Promise” she agrees with a curt nod. You take a deep breath, it comes in more broken but it helps ever so slightly.

“Thank you, thank you both!” You exclaim, wrapping them in some sort of embrace, you don’t know what it’s called though.

“Ha no problem maybe-princess,” Red jokes. She earns a glare from Chloe.

“So if I my parents are alive, am I gonna meet them?” You question in disbelief. This feels like a scary dream.

Red bites her lip before replying, “Well I’m assuming that’s what the call was for, she is most likely calling them now.” You are more confused.

“How will they hear her voice from all the way from the castle?”

“There are these machines that let you call from any land so long as the other has one too” Chloe responds, sharing yet ANOTHER look with Red.

“Sheesh, you need to get out more” Red tries to lighten the situation and to be fair it makes you laugh a little.

“RED” Chloe scolds.

“She laughed!”

“It’s okay, I’d rather joke about it than have it still happen” you add but now they both look sad for you again.

“Do you think they still want me? Like what if they have other children and don’t need me as a child anymore. And I’m not really a child at all, I don’t know how old I am yet but I seem far too big to be one.” You start picking at your nails in worry.

Red sighs, “I know what it’s like to have to worry whether someone likes you or not. Trust everything will work out.” She says.

“From what I heard they never stopped looking for you. They did have another child but they actually did kinda do the lantern thing every year. It’s just that they didn’t understand you were sent to wonderland. The whole time they’ve been looking elsewhere but I know for a fact they never fully stopped and that shows they will want you.” Ella offers. You just nod softly, the fear was still there, but if it’s true then it makes you feel a little better. They were good at that. You think you’d want to be their friends. Best friends even someday if you still manage to hang out.

Before the awkward tension breaks naturally the Red queen burst through the door with two others. They also look like royalty to you but that’s not what makes your chest pound. They woman looks so painstakingly like you it makes Chloe curse herself for not getting it immediately. You all stand up, Red and Chloe help you first. And you all how your head.

The woman nearly runs to you and pulls you into another embrace of sorts. This time it’s a little tighter.

“Oh my, you’re really her aren’t you, you’re my baby girl!” She gasps. You blush and stand there terribly awkward. Red can feel your uneasiness from next to you so she coughs in attempt to break Queen Rapunzel from her stupor. It works.

“I- you’re my real mom?” You question.

She pulls apart just enough to put one hand on your cheek and another on your shoulder.

“I know for sure, yes. You are everything I dreamed you to be, my beautiful baby girl. Oh you must have so many questions.” She says. She smiles like the sun and has tears pooling in her eyes. She’s dress so elegantly in purple, but she’s shaking quite a bit.

“I’m here, you’re here” you say. Rapunzel turns to the man.

“Eugene Flynn Fitzgerald Ryder, come over here this instance,” she beckons and slowly a man steps forward. You notice you have his eyes and hair color. You’ve never had a dad before, it’s almost too much. He certainly doesn’t seem like he’s an evil man.

“That’s really her my little buttercup?” He says and when he gets a good look at your face he breaks into the loudest sobs you have ever heard in your life. You honestly don’t know what to do but stand there. You are also overcome with emotion but this is quickly becoming too much for you. He steps forward again.

“Bathroom!” You exclaim and haste fully walk past them and into the halls where you start running.

“Y/n-“

“Flynn give her some time,” Rapunzel sighs.

“We‘ll make sure she’s safe,” Chloe interrupted, grabbing Red to follow you.

After a couple turns they hear sobbing down an otherwise empty hallway. You sit there with your head tucked into your knees gasping for breath. They slowly walk up to you.

“It’s a lot, I know” Red sighs. “Meeting your mo- family for the first time. You start thinking of what can go wrong when you don’t know them and they don’t really know the real you. It’s hard.” She pauses, “but take it slow. I promise that they are also overwhelmed too. But after not getting any affection your whole life it seems like even the tiniest bit is too much.”

“If you want, we will stay with you as much as allowed. I know we just met but it seems like maybe you trust us the most and that’s precious, the trust,” Chloe states. Her eyes are truthful and earnest. Red shares that earnesty.

“I- supposed if it’s alright. I would never want to impose and you’ve done so much for me. This is all just- well you said it” you gesture to Red.

“We’ll be here.” They both say in unison and it makes all three of you giggle. Maybe your new life won’t be so bad. At least not if they’re in it. Your worry is replaced with a similar fluttery feeling but you don’t know exactly what it is.

This is your happy beginning. Your life has finally begun.

[t4tozier]

so after the ep where we talked to the princesses more and the adventuring party after i think it’s more clear that brennan went with the more classic grimm brothers tale where rapunzel was just locked away and was incredibly isolated. idk why but i kind of feel like that’s a less interesting reason for why she comes off the way she does? not that neglect/abuse/trauma needs to be interesting but this is also a work of fiction like i feel like it would’ve been an interesting narrative point. and what we’ve learned about her doesn’t necessarily counteract that idea but it does seem like mother/dame gothel is not the presence she is in neverafter as she is in the disney movie.

so there might be something more to rapunzel but based on my vibes and what brennan said on the insight check i feel like she’s just put up so many defenses and become the ultimate people pleaser because of the abuse she’s gone through. like we don’t know this rapunzel’s story but so many other stories have been not so thinly veiled metaphors for different types of abuse and if this rapunzel has been through the emotional abuse that’s similar to the disney version where she’s constantly being nitpicked and has to go along with whatever mother gothel says and please her 100% of the time or be ridiculed or chastised for it, i don’t think it’s that big of a stretch to say her fake positivity and diplomacy arose from a trauma response and a need to be the constant diplomat.

[panthera-tigris-venenata]

parents meeting when they take their kids to class au with Harriet & Anthony but the kids are CJ and Dizzy. Throw in any other character you want for drama, convenience, or funsies.

Here you go!

It sounded like a first meeting prompt to me, which doesn’t work in canon, so I had to show it into an AU.

...The vaguely 1920 mafia AU for which I still didn’t do any research because I don’t have energy for that, okay? I do however have vibes and the vibes are great and I love my silly AU <3

I also added Ginny Gothel, for Reasons. (Ehm, mutually destructive threesome, ehm.)

Btw it is important for you to know that Harriet and Anthony are using Formal You for eachother the whole time.

Now, please enjoy!

Harriet steps onto the school grounds in one of her best dresses, with just a hint of black. It’s not too long since her first husband oh so tragically passed away, and black <i>does</i> look good on her.

It’s never too early to start looking for new options, especially for such a young widow as herself…

Harriet smirks a bit at that thought.

Nevermind that she’s in fact only there to invite her younger sister to her second wedding – the groom won’t be a problem soon enough, Harriet is sure. Older, the owner of a match factory, has been smoking all his life… He had it coming for quite a while, really, Harriet would say.

She reaches out her hand and rings at the bell by the gate, again. This is definitely not the high end institution that she (by the courtesy of her late husband,be the earth light to him) is paying for.

The thought that the staff might not be coming to greet her because she chose to come in the middle of the morning, and thus the school day, didn't cross her mind. Harriet did not care for time.

She rings again, mostly just to do something.

Time definitely passes (and Harriet hates it).

Finally, someone comes, an older lady. Probably a secretary or something, maybe a janitor. She’s wearing a dress-suit that does not flatter her at all.

She introduces herself to distracted Harriet, who does not care, thank you for asking, and starts apologising and chattering away: „I’m sorry for the inconvenience, really awfully sorry, we didn’t expect you here, miss– …ehm, …ma’am?“

Harriet smiles at the woman. She likes being called like this.

„Hook,“ she says, „Harriet Hook, though it will be Kensington soon.“ Harriet flashes off the abundantly expensive diamond ring on her finger. „I’m here to speak with my sister?“

„Your sister, ma’am?“

„Yes.“ Well, now the woman is just playing dumb, and Harriet has no patience for that. She throws her hair over her shoulder and continues:

„My sister. Calista Jane Hook. I need to speak with her.“

„She’s in her classes right now?“ the woman more asks that says, and Harriet could swear she heard her whisper „hopefully“ under her breath, but also:

„I don’t care,“ she says with as much dramatics as she can muster; if she had a watch, she’d check it right now.

„I need to speak with my sister.“

The nice school lady gulps nervously and Harriet smiles at her.

„Yes, yes, of course. If you’d wait a few moments, ma’am, I’ll fetch her for you.“

The woman turns to leave and Harriet raises a single eyebrow: She does not have the shoes for waiting by the gate, thank you.

„Sorry. Sorry, if you’d follow me?“

„Well, since you’re asking so nicely…“ drawls Harriet and follows into the institution.

She finds herself seated by a small office, which the lady has the audacity to call a saloon. As if. Harriet sits down regardless and allows the lady to flutter away, muttering something that Harriet doesn’t care to hear.

She’s quite preoccupied, you see: There was another person in the room already.

A young gentleman in a tailored if a bit faded suit stands up and greets her with a slight bow of his head.

She nods at him too, her eyes lingering a bit. (He sees and notices and Harriet almost blushes which is absolutely unbecoming.)

She steps closer and extend her hand to him, introducing herself to him, her rings and bracelets shining in the dim light; he presses a light kiss to her knuckles, barely a brush of the lips, and replies:

„I’m Lord Anthony Tremaine, the pleasure is all mine.“

A lord?

Interesting.

Harriet wouldn’t have thought this man a lord, but then again, barely anyone would call her a killer. Life is full of surprises, isn’t it?

The man stays standing, only as close as the etiquette allows, obviously, and asks her:

„What brings you here today?“

„I’ve come to talk to my younger sister,“ Harriet idly plays with her ring (the one that contained an exact lethal dosis of arsenic about three months ago), „Invite her to a family celebration, you see?“

Now, Harriet won’t tell the attractive stranger that she’s getting married, will she now?

„And you?“

„Oh, likewise,“ he replies and she can see him lying through his teeth. Interesting.

Nice young gentlemans shouldn’t lie.

Harriet smiles at him and ignores the way his eyes linger on her lips.

„Miserable weather, isn’t it?“ she says idly and he is quick to agree, glad not to linger on family matters any more.

They settle into a polite conversation, way more intriguing than any conversation with a lord has the right to be, up until steps and voices in the hall interrupt them.

A pouting ginger girl comes into the room first, escorted by the lady that greeted Harriet earlier, and immediately bolts to Anthony, hugging him around the waist and muttering something like „But do I have to?“

Harriet looks at him and raises her eyebrow at the way he smiles at the girl, just a small curve to his lips, really–

„Right,“ he clears his throat, „This is my cousin, Desdemona Tremaine. Desdemona, this is Harriet Hook. Greet her.“

The girl steps away and does a very hasty curtsy, looking in between them the whole time, and then beams: „I go by Dizzy actually!“

At that, Anthony quite helplessly shrugs his shoulders, like, what can one do?

…What can one do, really?

Especially since Harriet can already hear her younger sister, kicking up a fuss as she’s escorted to the room by two (!) teachers, one of which looks mildly… Irate.

Yes, that would be the word.

She doesn’t run to hug her, and, gods, she has soot on her cheek.

„I’m guessing that one is yours?“ Anthony says, voice barely above a whisper.

„Yes,“ sighs Harriet, loud enough for CJ to hear clearly, „Unfortunately.“

Then she raises her voice: „Calista Jane. What did you do?“

„Nothing!“ comes the swift and defiant and definitely pouty answer.

Harriet gives her sister a glare, that means „Really?!“ and „I call bullshit,“ and „Keep talking at me, I want to hear what that handsome man over there is saying and not look like I’m eavesdropping even though that’s most definitely what I’m doing.“

…Though the last one might have been more of a predetermined hand gesture, but figures. Calista Jane caught it and keeps chattering at her, likely driving her teachers crazy, and Harriet is left to eavesdrop in relative peace.

(„But Anthony! I don’t want to leave here!“

„You have to, little princess. You have to.“

„But I don’t want to! I like it here, I have friends here!“

„Your grandmother wants you home.“

„But I don’t want to go home!“ The girl is whining by now, and Anthony lowers his voice and god damn it, Harriet wants to look at him. (She doesn’t.)

„I know, but– Listen, Desdemona. Dizzy. We… We don’t have the money to pay for your school right now. We’ll get it soon, I promise, but… You have to come home with me now.“

„But… But I don’t want to…“

„I know–“)

Harriet risks a glance at the man hugging his younger cousin, just a quick look, really, barely a heartbeat– before focusing on her sister. Just in time, it seems:

„…And that’s why absolutely nothing that happened in the lab was my fault!“ finishes CJ rather triumphantly. She smirks as her eyes flicker between Harriet and Anthony, and Harriet shakes her head a little. Not him. No–

No.

CJ smirks even more.

„Yes, yes,“ dismisses Harriet, to the eternal horror of one of the teachers and the secretary, „Not your fault whatsoever, I’m sure.“

She wrings her hands in a gesture that means „We <i>will</i> talk about this later and CJ pouts at her.

Not paying that any mind, Harriet hands her sister the wedding invitation, hand-written on heavy paper and paid for by the groom-to-be, of course.

CJ snatches it and scans the text with eager eyes. She always liked shiny things.

She looks up, her eyes flickering between Harriet and Anthony again, and then she switches languages:

„Is he rich?“ she asks in Latin, and Harriet just hopes the Tremaine lord doesn't understand that, or isn't listening at the very least. 

She smirks and answers regardless: „Filthy rich.“

„Good for you! Will I be invited to the funeral too?“ CJ beams.

„Obviously.“

CJ, still smiling maniacally, switches back to English again:

„Oh Ettie! I need a new dress!“

„No you don't–“ Harriet quickly refuses, ignoring the numerous recent additions to her own wardrobe and jewellery box.

„Yes! I absolutely do!“ CJ drops her voice to entirely inconspicuous whisper, „Once in a lifetime occasion and all that…“

„Calista Jane–“

„Come on, Ettie, pretty please! I really need them! For school!“

„Your school has you wearing uniforms, Calista.“ 

Extremely distasteful piece of clothing, that, but. Small rules must be followed occasionally, to keep up the appearances.

CJ pouts to let everyone know what she thinks about rules in general and uniforms in particular (she isn't wearing hers anyway), and then adds:

„I don't wanna be there anyway.“

„Sounds like a you problem to me,“ says Harriet, her eyes gliding from Anthony to one of the teachers, the only person in the room who appears to be having a good time besides CJ. She's smiling slightly, only a slight curve to her lips, and Harriet likes the glint in her eyes. She watches her winding up her curls around her index finger and then letting it bounce back up.

„Harriet!“ 

Harriet blinks as her sister snaps her fingers in front of her face.

„Harry doesn't have to go to school anymore, so why do I have to?!“

…Yeah, that would be because Harry didn't ask. He run away to roam the streets with some girl, who, quite coincidentally, seems to be running a gang. Harriet has seen him once since her first wedding, when he and the girl delivered her the arsenic more swiftly than she could hope for otherwise.

All in all, Harry has fallen in with the uglier part of Auradon City Underworld, and has no intention of leaving.

Just as Harriet has no intentions of telling her younger sister about the vivacious criminal street life right now.

…He also might or might not have opened a highly illegal alcohol-bar, which CJ also doesn’t need to know. Yet. It’s not like she could make any useful connections at high-end, highly exclusive privileged-girls-only internate school, is it now?

„Harry is older than you,“ Harriet says instead.

CJ doesn't argue, thankfully.

Well, for the moment, at least, likely rendered speechless by the flawless argument, but Harriet doesn’t want to give her a chance to start.

„So,“ She claps her hands, „If that’s all, I'll be on my way.“

She hopes Anthony stops her, though, and maybe invites her for a tea or something. Yeah, tea would be nice.

It’s not Anthony who stops her.

It is a rather furious whispering of the teachers that has Harriet frozen on the spot, and making a long face into the doors.

She could leave anyway.

„Ma’am?“

But that would be rude, wouldn’t it, and Harriet Hook cannot afford to be seen as rude. Too much, anyway.

„Yes?“ Harriet turns around with a fake smile with too much teeth that would make smarter people run; come to think of it, the youngest teacher <i>does</i> look like she wants to run.

Good for her.

The others just look like they’d like to be away from CJ’s general vicinity, which is the general state of being.

„While you are here, ma’am, we hoped to go over some things relating to your sister, if that’s all right.“ The lady does not wait for an answer, which is just crude, and instead motions to the youngest teacher. You know, the pretty one, with the survival instincts?

„Ginevra here will go over some of the concerns we have with you.“

Consequently, Harriet might or might not stared at Ginevra with her curly hair and murderous stare so hard that she didn’t notice the other staff leaving nor Anthony shushing his cousin to listen in. She did notice her sister’s giggles, though.

She shakes her head, her own curls bouncing around her shoulders, and extremely subtly gives CJ the middle finger. Manners, you see.

„Will we be discussing Desdemona’s progress here as well?“ asks Anthony, voice cold and deep but curious, „And might we get your name, miss…?“

„Right,“ the woman taps at her clavicle, thus causing Harriet to look somewhere else too. Before she can look away, CJ subtly hits her, and, judging by the quiet „ow,“ Dizzy does the same for her cousin.

Interesting.

Harriet will not be thinking of that.

„Right,“ the teacher repeats, „I’m Ginevra Gothel and–“

–And Harriet Hook almost chokes on pure air.

„Gothel?! That Gothel?!“ she gets out just as the young Tremaine Lord recovers from his coughing fit and asks the same damn question!

Harriet would like to know why the interesting handsome young lord knows who Gothel is, please and thank you.

She wouldn't put him down as the type to recognise the name of a human trafficker, even as famed as Gothel is. Well, famed.

That bitch usually just goes by „Mother,“.

Gothel widens her eyes at them and frantically gestures towards the door: Not now!

From which Harriet concludes that she is, in fact, that Gothel, (Wasn’t she older?), and that she is leaving immediately. And CJ is too, tuition fee be damned.

She grabs CJ’s wrist hard enough to bruise and across the room, Anthony brings his cousin close.

„I’m– I’m not that Gothel,“ her voice drops, „I’m her daughter, okay? I run away. Please, don’t tell?“

She’s looking around the eyes with wide eyes and a strand of her hair curled around her index finger and god damn it–

„Ettie?“ CJ quips up, „She’s the best teacher there. My favourite teacher.“ (Calista Jane is making the exact same doe eyes as Gothel.)

„Don’t make them fire her?“

Harriet looks at her sister:

„Well, as long as she makes you go to the school…,“ she drawls.

She looks back at Gothel’s daughter, eyes as cold as she can manage:

„We <i>will</i> talk about this,“ she assures her, and Anthony (!) agrees from the other side of the room, one arm still protectively around Dizzy (!!).

„That we will,“ he says, stone and steel. 

(Damn it, damn it damn it–)

„So, you know,“ shrugs Harriet nonchalantly, throwing her hair over her shoulder, „If you want to live, meet me Saturday six o’clocks by the Revenge.“

With that, Harriet Hook leaves the dreadful institute, and by all that is holy, does she hope they’ll both turn up.

If not, well. 

She can track them down.

It’s not like she has anything to do besides marriage planning, and funeral arrangements.

As she leaves, she can hear Ginevra Gothel telling her colleagues that she agreed to sort everything school-related with her over the weekend, how kind of her, right?

She turns around to wave at everyone and glare at CJ a bit, just so she wouldn’t think she’d get away with whatever happened at the labs.

„See you soon, Harriet Hook!“ Anthony Tremaine calls after her and why, yes, this visit was certainly something.

Do not listen to the childish giggles of the girls, please.

[oepionie]

—"GOTTA ESCAPE THE VOID." overblot mc!

SYNOPSIS: The Ramshackle prefect has a reputation for frequently encountering fatal magical mishaps. And when a magical accident involving Crowley almost kills them, Crewel resolves to take matters into his own hands. But it appears that his impulsive decisions cause the prefect to reach their limit and go off the rails.

⊹ [ cw ] — heavy warnings, please read before you proceed. arguments with father, self-depricating thoughts, mentions of blood, protective parent, thoughts of offing self (only once), overblot mc!, miscommunication w friends, crying, physical fights ◞

⊹ [ tags ] — angst! gender neutral reader, crewel really embodies the 'cruel' in 'cruella', ace gets mad at you :(, deuce tries to comfort you through it all, crowley feels guilt (wow), crewel is vry vry angry and punches crowley, crewel has a mother gothel moment<3◞

⊹ [ w.c ] — 2.5k+◞ | 🦇masterlist◞

YOUR VISION WAS NOTHING, but a myriad of colorful blurs and shapes. Muffled voices spoke to you, but everything was practically just incomprehensible, panicked babbling. The heavy pressure of metal was pressed up against your windpipe, restraining your breath as it wound tighter and tighter. Though, a few seconds later, it vanished as if it had never existed, bursting into bright magical sparks.

The gush and pool of blood surrounds your dirtied, tangled mess of hair, a dark scarlet seeping into the knotted strands. Kneeling before your body, Crowley felt his heart skid to a stop. The sight of your fatigued form writhing around the ground tore at his chest, claws of guilt digging in deep and dragging across thick tissue.

"Prefect…Can you hear me?" The crow murmurs, clawed hands pressing against the side of your pounding head as he guides it to rest atop his lap. Vibrant blooms of red stain the dark fabric of his pants, but he couldn't bring himself to care.

"Dad…it hurts s'much." You slur in hushed tones, your eyes wringing shut from the pain. That was enough for Crowley to put his arms around you.

He shielded your body with his torso, hands clawing at your back as he wracks his mind of what to do next. Hastily turning round, he shifts his gaze to the surrounding students, all of them looking equally mortified.

"What are you standing around there for?! Call the nurse!"

"Y-Yes, sir!"

Drip. Drip

The pungent smell of alcohol and medication fill your senses as you groggily blink awake.

The familiar creaky wood of Ramshackle's ceiling greets you as you pull yourself from dreamland. Looking over both sides of your bed, you smile once you see both Deuce and Ace seated on a nearby couch. Both of them were quick to jump up and approach you, fussing over your bedridden form.

"Thank Sevens." Deuce murmurs, tenderly combing your damp hair back. You roll your head to the side to face him, but wince at the sudden throb of pain in your spine. Ace darts over and hushes you, gently repositioning your head to face front once more, making sure your neck was supported by a pillow. "Hey…It'd be great if you don't move so much…"

“Right. Makes sense. 'Nways…how bad was my injury?” You mutter, your recollections of the past event still foggy. All you could remember was that Crowley had fired a spell, and you somehow got into the crossfire.

“Fucking horrible.” Ace scoffs, looking at you sternly.

"Yeah, take it easy for a bit. The injury was…pretty serious. It was a miracle that the spell missed your head by a thread…" Deuce murmurs as he presses a gentle hand on your bandaged forehead.

Strands of blueberry hair fall loosely at the sides of his face as he stares down at you with worry. "You were out for three days."

"Ah…well—you know, me and my dumb non-magical ass. Always getting into trouble," you giggle, a cheery grin stretching over your cracked lips. Though it rapidly drops when you realize your two friends aren't laughing with you.

Ace shifts his gaze to the floor, hands clasped into a fist. "You're not dumb, prefect…"

"Well—I kinda am," You snort, tugging the blanket closer to your chilly form. "I really have to stop being around the old man's magic shows."

Unconvinced, Ace only shakes his head and scoffs at your jokes. The ginger reclines back into his chair, hands vigorously tugging and pulling at his hair. "You aren't. The real issue here is that deadbeat crow. I mean...hasn't he learnt anythin' from last time? What kind of idiot treats his child—"

"It wasn't his fault, Ace." Pushing yourself off the bed, you immediately interrupt him, voice stern as you rush to defend Crowley. "He didn't mean it. I got in the path of his magic. And—I'm pretty sure he's already beating himself up over this."

Sinking back into the bed, you clasp both your hands together. "It wasn't his fault. Sure, he's reckless and all but…but he's still my dad."

Silence washes over your room.

Ace was visibly frustrated, the blunt tips of his nails dug deep into his skin, nearly piercing past skin. With a final scoff, he stands from his chair and quietly excuses himself from the room.

The door slams shut with a blaring bang as both you and Deuce were left alone.

Sighing, the freshman takes your trembling hand in his, clasping it tight as his body temperature warms the cool skin. He draws your right arm up to press your palm against his cheek, eyes looking deep into yours.

"Professor Crewel is pissed," Deuce whispers as you trace gentle circles on his skin. A pair of shaky cyan eyes meets your concerned ones. "He was planning to—"

Deuce's mouth parted open and close and yet he couldn't bring himself to finish the sentence. You cast a questioning glance his way, but Deuce shakes his head, disregarding your questions.

"…nothing."

Surprise washes over you as you stare down at Deuce's hunched over form. It…wasn't like your friends to be so dismissive.

You, Ace, and Deuce had always been good friends. Sure you had your differences but you always communicated openly with one another. Nobody has ever been this...secretive.

Just…what was happening?

Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip.

The sickening crack of a bone echoes through the faculty room as the rough knuckle of Crewel's fist connects with Crowley's face. The headmaster reels, mask flying off as his hands fly to his bloodied nose.

Everyone in the vicinity quieted as the only noise heard was the potionology professor's labored breathing.

Then, without hesitation, Crewel surges forward. Loud commotion and screaming could be heard in the meeting room as everyone quickly circles around the two. A couple of hands seize Crewel by the arms, but the professor only grows more agitated, attempting to fight past the herd.

"Let me go!" Crewel roars, tugging his arm free as he attempts to swing a fist at the headmaster. "Dire! This is your fucking fault!"

"Divus! Calm yourself!" Trein scolds, arms locked tight around the man's torso. A few more pairs of hands restrain the professor as he is forcibly pushed down onto a couch.

His face was the epitome of unrepressed rage: With his cheeks drawn back in a deep sneer, eyes bloodshot red, and hair a knotted mess.

Trein stands before the younger man, looking down at him with disgust. "Have you no shame? What will the prefect think once they hear of this?"

Across the room, Crowley spits out a little blood, blinking fresh tears out of his eyes. For the last three days, the crow has been suppressing all of its emotions; however, all of a sudden, he is overcome with an unfettered and unhindered flood of shame and rage.

When the headmaster finally turned around, he fixed Crewel with an expression so scathing that the potionology professor felt compelled to charge at him again.

Once, coldly, sharply, and bitterly, Crowley laughed. "It's my fault, you say? You think I don't know that?"

"Oh please—Dire. I couldn't care less about what you think." Crewel seethes, venom practically dripping from his lips. The alchemy professor strides forward, heels clicking against the floor as he grabs Crowley by the collar.

"You're a failure of a father. All you've ever brought their way is danger." The professor cackles kicking the crow's skin.

Digging deep into his red handbag, Crewel snatches out papers and jams it into Crowley's chest. The crow unravels the creased pages to read the text on the document, eyes ripping wide open as he realizes what it was.

"You…can't possibly." The headmaster sputters, hands shaking as he reads the texts again and again.

"Oh, but I can." Crewel sneers, taking pleasure in the look of fear Crowley sends his way. He snaps around, coat billowing up behind him as he briskly walks towards the entryway. "I expect those papers to be signed by tonight."

Before walking out of the room, Crewel spares the headmaster one final glance. "The prefect departs this Monday."

Days after the event were all followed by violent storms that appeared to go on forever. Every night and day, the rain endlessly poured down from the bitter grey skies and roars of thunder echoed through the dewy clouds. Some days, it was nearly impossible to go to school.

It was almost as though Mother Nature herself was upset.

Just like how everyone was.

Crowley and your other friends shunned you like you had the plague. Even bright Kalim greeted you with a deep frown, a flimsy excuse slipping off his lips as he ran away. Only Deuce stayed by your side through it all.

The blueberry had told you everything was alright—that everything was normal and fine— but you couldn't help but be skeptical.

So when Crewel came to visit, you welcomed him right in. Eager to hear what he has to say.

The clatter and click of your father's heeled boots echoed through the walls of the dormitory as he examined the premises, comparing it to his own much more lavish flat back home in the city.

Finally, after an excruciating 5 minutes. his gaze flitted over to your bedridden form.

And the words he utters out next shatter your entire being.

"I'm withdrawing you from NRC."

What.

The glass clasped in your bandaged hands slips from your grip, smashing onto the oak wood of Ramshackle's flooring. You raise your mortified gaze to scowl at your professor, jaw dropped open in shock.

"What?" you breathlessly utter. "What do you mean?!"

"I'm transferring you to another school." Crewel replies, pushing himself off the fireplace and slipping his thick fur coat off his shoulders. The scant light emitted by the candles atop your study table did nothing to help you navigate his form as he strode around your bedroom.

"Now. You might be asking why? For one, look at the…accommodations Dire provided you with."

Crewel kicks a piece of splintered bark aside while making a gesture towards the disorder and wreckage all around you.

In the evenings, you had to use candles because the ceiling lights seldom ever functioned. The flooring had so many tears and holes that they were virtually falling apart. On occasion, you could even see the scuffle of rats beneath. The roof leaked, horribly; You had no money to fix it so you placed a bucket below instead. The front door was broken, barely hanging on its hinges, evidence of all the times your friends visited and never bothered to knock.

All of these problems and so many more were present, but this dorm was with you since the very start. It provided you with a roof over your head…it helped you survive.

"So what?" You retort, leaning back into your bed and sinking deep into the scratchy yet familiar pillows. "I don't mind it!"

"A foolish decision." Crewel sneers, running a hand into his hair. "Your accommodations aren't the only problem. Your self-destructive habits endanger you as well!"

There it was.

Groaning, you wring your hands through your hair, tangling it up. "When are you gonna stop saying that I'm self-destructive!?"

"When you start acting like somebody that actually cares about their life!" Crewel barks out, hands grasping your shoulders. The sudden increase in volume makes you recoil, but you were stubborn and refused to give in just yet.

"But I do care about my life!" You sputter out. "Why can't you just—"

"Remember what happened when Rosehearts overblotted?" He reminds you, "You charged towards a bloodthirsty tyrant with no protection, no magic, and no plan." Crewel then crosses his arms over his chest, addressing you with a pointed glare. "And you have the nerve to tell me you're not self destructive?"

"Riddle is not a tyrant!" Crying out, you slam your hand against your bedsheets, face twisting into an unsightly sneer. "I was trying to save my friend!"

Crewel gets right in your face, returning the expression of anger you sent his way. "Those friends of yours only care about you when you're useful!" he thundered, jabbing a finger into your chest.

That comment immediately silenced you.

Your hand was clasped over your mouth, jaw dropped wide open in disbelief as a sharp gasp escapes your dry throat.

A poisonous and dangerously harmful feeling gripped at whatever remnant the professor had of a heart. It colored his thoughts with regret as he began to feel a twinge of guilt, the weight of words sinking in.

There was a deep sigh of resignation from Crewel before he put a hand on your shoulder and looked you deep in the eyes, voice lowering to a softer lilt. "Why is it that every other person in that dorm had the sense to run away from the blots, but you didn't?"

Kneeling down, your father gazed at you with such vulnerability in his eyes as he murmurs, "Do you know how terrified I was every time I'd get the same message from Dire that you were out fighting overblots again? Putting your life at risk for those rabid dogs?"

The recognition of your destructive habits hit you like a splash of ice cold water. With a guilty and uncomfortable grimace on your face, you averted your attention to the floor. "I just wanted to help."

Slowly rising to his feet again, Crewel casts a deep frown your way. "I know you do, but you're careless with your life and if you're not careful…one of these days, you're gonna die."

"I will not hear anymore disagreements about this, do you hear? I've allowed you to run rampant around these past few months. You will so as I say and I'll have you transferred by the end of this week." He says simply, dropping a pristine sheet of paper clasped in a clipboard before you. Your dull eyes flicker across the title as you grudgingly reach for the pen he offers you.

TRANSFER APPLICATION.

That blank line at the end of the page is swiftly covered by your shaky red signature and Crewel is powerless to stop the relieved sigh that heaves past his lips.

A surge of victory, certainty, and an intense sense of relief overpowers the tangled and conflicting sentiments of guilt that were swimming through his chest.

You were safe, that's all that matters.

With a grieving heart, you nudge the pen and page back to your father dismissively, placing them both atop the bed. Crewel re-rolled the page and tucked it back into his handbag along with the pen.

The professor raises a hand to gently pat your shoulders as he bends down, pressing a kiss atop your head. "Father knows best."

As Crewel quietly takes his leave, he is none the wiser to the formation of impure, tainted tar-like blot dripping from your tears. Curling in yourself, you tuck your head into your knees, a broken sob spilling from your lips.

A sick and twisted feeling arises in your heart as you replay the argument you had with Crewel, and you start to wish that maybe, just maybe, Crowley's spell had succeeded in striking you.

Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip.

"Oi…Henchhuman?"

Drip.

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