Yeah, so, I’m on break and I have like All The Prompts to work on and I’m writing a Hanukkah fic for the Scarlet Witch and I have a chapter of a WIP to work on, but also my aunt outed me to my grandparents and I am so fucking tired of my family. So I’m a little drunk, I’m watching Hansel and Gretel: Witch Hunters, and I do what I want. Crossposted to AO3.
The witches were always so careful to tie Hansel up. Apparently, it was something about the height, and the leather, and possibly the attempting-to-murder them. Hell if Hansel cared what their logic was. It was uncomfortable—his wrists aching in their shackles, every muscle in his shoulders screaming at the constraint, the muscles in his legs spasming as he struggled to rest his weight on his toes—but he had been uncomfortable before. This didn’t even make the list of the most discomfort he’d ever been in. Ben was coming unglued beside him, locked tidily into a cell with his hands shackled as he shook and tried to bargain with the witch as she sharpened a knife. They’d barely been here an hour, for the love of God, and she’d only managed to snag half of them—Gretel and Edward were still out and about.
“You’re not going to get anywhere, kid,” Hansel sighed, and Ben whipped around to look at him.
“I’m not—aren’t you concerned about this?” Ben demanded, voice cracking.
