#and to any poor soul who wants to do a rewrite of a frustrating story......have fun. but watch out

[hecksupremechips]

re: udg reblog,

clearly the solution to “oh i love this but i don’t think anyone should play it” is to write a fic with only the good parts and none of the bad parts but then you have this big empty space where the bad parts were so you just make something up that seems vaguely believable

that seems like a normal thing normal people do right?

RIGHT?

It’s always correct and totally won’t ever lead to agony as you look at the canon and scream because my god how are you supposed to salvage something this stupid why are you doing this you used to be so normal and not care oh god why does attacking the little girl make her pants fly off oh god why is delta a character

[babbushka]

A Word (Or Several) About That Fanfic App (And Others Like It)

I am sure by now, whether you’re a frustrated fanfiction author or a friend of one, you have become aware of certain apps that are circulating on both Android/Google Play and Apple stores which offer access to your favorite stories hosted through AO3, such as the one shown below. 

And while these apps may seem harmless, while some are saying that it’s not a big deal, that it’s all the internet and what you put on the internet is free game for anyone/anything, while some don’t consider this to be exploitation – they’re wrong.

But for right now, let’s not talk about the fact that these works were taken or streamed from AO3 without authors’ permission. Let’s ignore the fact that there’s not even any ounce of notification that an author’s work has been taken. 

Let’s ignore the fact that many of these apps steal traffic from the archive (which as I’m sure we’re all aware is entirely volunteer-run, volunteers who do incredible work to be able to provide such an amazing archival space for fanfiction). Let’s forget about the point that these apps don’t actually do anything that AO3 doesn’t already provide.

Because while all of those points are valid enough for such an app to be considered unethical and frankly in poor-taste, the real issue – both legally and morally – is monetization of transformative works.

Much like with fanart, there is a hot debate over whether or not it is legal to profit off of sales of products that contain copywritten material. On the whole, fanart does not generate enough of a profit to compete with officially licensed artwork and merchandise – or at least, not enough of a profit to really be of any concern to the corporations who technically own the intellectual property.

Fanfiction, however, has a much more frustrating history regarding copyright, which I won’t get into here because this isn’t the time or place for that.

Because of this tense relationship between fanfiction authors and copyright owners, fanfiction authors are incredibly careful about how they share their works, and where they circulate their stories. Places like AO3 have provided a safe-haven for millions of stories and people who enjoy them – and they’ve been able to do so (mostly out of the eyes of the big CEOs) by keeping the archive a non-profit site.

The moment that money is involved regarding copywritten literature, it’s as if the lawyers have caught wind and descend upon small independent writers with fists of fury, legal fees, suits of action, and in some cases, complete erasure of the material.

Fanfiction is a labor of love just as fanart is, but while fanartists have a little more freedom to monetize their works, authors almost exclusively write and share fanfiction for free. It is, for many, a hobby that we dedicate our time to because it fulfills us in some way; it allows us to express ourselves literarily without having to worry about editors or producers or agents cutting our ideas down.

I cannot speak for everyone, but I know that in my own experience, hundreds upon hundreds of hours of work get poured into my fanfiction. Between research for AUs, plot planning, outlining, writing and rewriting (and rewriting again) thousands of words, I treat fanfiction as a serious form of literature – and I am willing and eager to spend that time writing, not because it is a lucrative business model (because it truly just isn’t), but because it’s something I love to do.

If I were to monetize my fanfiction, it suddenly becomes a job to me, it becomes an obligation. I purposefully keep my content as accessible and free as possible because I simply want to share it for the joy of sharing it. It is a choice that I have made, to keep my fanfic fanfic, and not turned into OC works.

Now, this is not to say that anyone who monetizes their writing is bad or wrong. That’s not what I’m meaning whatsoever!! I know many people who generate a small side income with writing commissions, and ko-fi donations, and things like that. But that is the decision of the author who owns the work, and is at the discretion of the person who is creating that work.

Generating profit off of someone else’s work and not compensating them for it (whether that’s paying royalty fees or licensing fees or a flat-buyout rate) is stealing. It is plagiarism.

It’s the same as someone selling prints of stolen artwork and then defending themselves by saying “but I credited the artist!” Credit and compensation are not interchangeable, and shouldn’t be treated as such.

These apps are taking stories from authors who pour their time, energy, heart and soul into their works. Not only are they taking the stories, they are profiting off of someone else’s labor, without their knowledge, without their compensation, without their permission.

I know there have been a thousand posts like this before, but as someone whose entire AO3 profile of over 120 works was taken without my permission, I’m a little salty over it.

But more so, I’m hurt for the people at AO3, who work so incredibly hard, who are so thorough and meticulous about making the archive as high quality as it can be, who do everything for free through the non-profit, who are all volunteers, who are all lovers of stories just like us. And who are being slapped in the face by these apps which do a watered-down version of what the archive does (mainly I’m talking about the ability to download stories for off-line reading) but who are somehow making money through subscription based services and ad revenue.

So please, don’t flood the AO3 customer service with hate, or demands for them to fix this. They are aware of the situation and they have made numerous statements regarding the legality of this and how they are unable to really do anything, because they technically do not own the works. The archive is just that, it is an archive where owners of their own intellectual property can store their works for posterity.

It is up to us, the authors whose work is being exploited and the people who read and support us, to get these apps taken down.

If you’ve read this whole thing I offer my sincere thanks, and am sending you my love, and all that I ask is when you see an app like this you flag/report it and alert your favorite author that someone out there might be making money off their work.

Support fellow authors, support the Archive.

Here are links to report the app:

Google Playstore link

Apple Store link (download app, then go to report it here )

screenshots taken from the app’s page on the Apple Store

[notalotgoingonatthisinstant]

Of Hearts Breaking and Thunderstorms

Summary: A cloudy day in Malibu reflected Piper's exact feelings about what she knew she had to do. It didn't mean it hurt any less to turn this date into... a breakup.

Find it on: ffnet | AO3

It wasn’t a typical Californian day. Gray clouds covered the sky, hovering above the sea and turning it just as gray. The wind was chilly, making it feel like it was less than 65o out and forcing Piper to actually wear a hoodie. It might rain soon. The sand was lifeless.

Definitely, December wasn’t a postcard month in Malibu.

Still, Jason had bought them both ice-cream, which they now enjoyed on the beach. Well. Enjoyed was a bit of a strong word for Piper, since she felt like her head might explode at any minute from her turmoil of thoughts and doubts.

“I’ve a question for you.”

Coming from your boyfriend, that sentence was enough to set anyone into red alert mode; although, she debated, would that be such a bad thing?

“D’you remember that place I told you about?” Jason went on, animatedly. “In New Rome? With the brownies?”

“Yeah.” Her voice sounded far away. She wondered if he noticed how distracted she was.

“Well,” she caught his smile with the corner of her eyes, “one block over there’s this really nice restaurant that serves the best Italian food I’ve ever had – and we’ve been to Italy, even though we didn’t really enjoy the local cuisine. Anyway. I was thinking…”

The way his voice trailed off had Piper finally turning to look at him. She noted the slight blush on his cheeks and the way he was fiddling with his spoon, swirling the final pieces of his chocolate ice-cream. She noted how nervous he’d gotten. Then she remembered what day was approaching and cursed internally.

“It’s not, like, one of those super expensive Italian places where people wear suits and stuff, don’t worry,” he quickly explained, mistaking the meaning of her panicking face. “But it’s nice. I thought we could do something different. You know, for our anniversary.”

There it was. The word she didn’t want to hear.

It was ridiculous. She had dreamed about the time she would reach her first anniversary with Jason. She would plan something nice for them, something other than getting ice-cream from the street parlor or popcorn and a movie at her place. She would be over the moon.

She wasn’t, though. She wanted to ignore it completely. As it had gotten closer, she had dared to hope that Jason would be a stereotypical boyfriend who forgot anniversaries, but he wasn’t like that. He was… excited. He was trying to make plans.

Gods, how was she going to do this?

“Pipes?”

She turned to him sharply, noticing she had been staring at the ocean again and not answering him. Her ice-cream was finished, the empty cup next to her on the sand, so she busied her hands with the grains underneath them.

“Do you wanna do something else?” Jason offered. “It’ll be over break, so we can do whatever. If you don’t wanna go all the way to camp, we–”

“No!” Piper cut in. “That’s not…” That’s not the problem.

“It’s no trouble. I can get Tempest to take us. He’s probably hanging out close-by, with the weather like this. Or we can stay in, if you want? I could try to cook you dinner again.”

The image of Jason with an apron full of tomato sauce, holding a spoon over the stove while freaking out about water spilling from the pasta pan, nervous smiles and apologies for making a mess, filled her mind. He had been trying to cheer her up after another failed search for Leo. The meal had actually turned out alright, but he had freaked out during the preparation and refused any help. It had been adorable.

“… or something else?”

Poor thing, he looked so lost. She couldn’t do this to him.

“No! I – I just – I can’t!”

The effect of her outburst was instantaneous. What was left of Jason’s nervous smile melted away completely, as if his whole body sagged. At the same time, though, she could see him tensing up, and it physically hurt her. The sky seemed to darken.

“I’m sorry,” she buried her face in her hands and tried to put her thoughts in order so she could talk to him. She repeated, “I can’t.”

They were silent for a few moments, and then Jason said, in a careful, controlled voice she thought her would never use with her again, “Can’t what?”

“Do this to you.”

Piper heard him sigh and put his ice-cream cup down on the sand. When she finally got up the courage to look up, he was the one staring out at the ocean, eyes far away and face set. She knew that look and she didn’t like being the one to cause it.

“Before you say anything,” she started, “you didn’t do anything.”

He grimaced. “Was that the problem?”

“No.”

“Then what is?” He looked at her, those electric blue eyes piercing into her soul. You’ve been weird for weeks. Is it about Leo? Because you know you can talk to me. We’re going through this together.”

“It’s not about Leo.”

“Then what?”

Piper wanted to give him an honest answer, because he deserved at least that from her. He knew what she was doing right now. He knew where she was going with the conversation, and he was obviously hurt. She needed to make sure he understood her reasons if he was ever going to forgive for this. And she desperately needed him to forgive her.

She shrugged, lost. “What are we doing?”

With a sarcastic tilt of his head, Jason glanced down. “We were eating ice-cream and enjoying this cloudy day on the beach.”

“No, I mean…” She sighed, frustrated, and hugged her legs to her chest. “With us. What’re we doing?”

“Dating, Pipes. Because we love each other.”

“Because Hera told us we do?”

They had talked about this before and she knew where Jason stood, which is why it was no surprise that his face closed off and he turned away. “We had a deal.”

Right. The deal he’d made the night the Romans had left Camp Half-Blood and he’d sneaked them up to his cabin’s roof. He had kissed her and said that they would be rewriting their story from then on – no Mist memories, no amnesia. A fresh start.

Except they couldn’t have a fresh start.

“I wish it was that simple,” Piper said, feeling her eyes getting wetter. “I wish I could just… forget those memories of us she planted in my brain. But I can’t! I can’t just… ignore the fact that she – and my mom – just looked at us and thought we’d make a good couple, and then they just pushed us together!”

“Nobody made me be with you.”

“You can’t know that. You can’t!” she added when he gave her a look. “We can’t erase our memories of all that manipulation and start fresh. It’s a fact – from the moment we met, we’ve had preconceived ideas that we should be together. We never had an objective look on things!”

Jason closed his eyes behind his glasses and Piper’s heart squeezed hard in her rib cage.

“I never did anything I didn’t mean. If I say I love you–”

“I know that. I know you.”

“Then what, you think I don’t know what I’m feeling?”

“I don’t know myself!” she finally burst out, the backs of her eyes burning. “This last year was pretty crazy, play? And I know how hard it was for you, to miss a chunk of your life and wake up with amnesia on the other side of the country. But you’ve known your whole life that you’re a demigod. You’ve trained for this since you were a literal baby. I didn’t have the luxury of having time to get used to this.”

Jason was watching her with careful eyes. She still had so much to say and explain, but her head was a mess and her words betrayed her, especially if she met his hypnotizing gaze for too long; gods, why did she have to be so in love with him? She couldn’t stop now – finish what you started, McLean.

“One moment I was on a bus trip with my boyfriend and my best friend, the next I was falling down the Grand Canyon and there was this huge prophecy on my shoulders. My recollections of the past few months were apparently a lie. And throughout all of that, I was only sure of two things: Leo was my best friend and I liked you. That’s it. That was all I knew.

“Now the prophecy’s over, and Leo’s gone, and I just…” she shrugged, hopelessly. “I was just – I was thrown into this world and I had to readjust my image of myself. But the way it readjusted… I mean, even before we started dating for real, I was with in a way. I don’t know how to be me without being with you, and I don’t like that.”

Piper loved him, she did, and he deserved all the praise he got. But she was not – repeat, not – going to be defined as Jason Grace’s girlfriend. Maybe someday… when her head was on straight and she was sure of herself… she wouldn’t mind standing next to him. Now, though…

“I don’t know who I am either, you know,” Jason said like an off-comment, but Piper felt the bite nonetheless. “Seeing both camps and wanting to belong in both. I was raised a Roman – I wasn’t supposed to be tempted to leave some of it behind.”

“That’s different.”

He raised his eyebrows at her.

“I also have that,” Piper continued. “I’m half Greek goddess and half… what? Because, for the Cherokee, your heritage comes from your mother, so what am I, really? This whole gods business is messed up – I think all half-bloods go through at least one identity crisis. I…” she searched for the right words. “I can’t be defined by a person.”

“Did someone say something to you?” Jason turned his body a bit more to her. “Is that what triggered this? By the gods, Piper, you’re not defined by your relationship with me. Nobody in their right mind would be dumb enough to even think such a–”

“I am! I’m the dumb person!” The revelation seemed to strike Jason speechless for a moment. “It’s me, okay? I realized that I’ve been defining myself like that ever since I entered this world. Who am I if I’m not in love with you? If I’m not Leo’s best friend? If I’m not that girl who uses her powers to steal things? I don’t know the answer! And I can’t figure it out if I’m still with you!”

Even though Piper was pretty sure that Jason had picked up on where the conversation was going from the start, it apparently didn’t soften the blow. She felt it too, saying it out loud, like a cold claw closing around her heart. The clouds above closed in, nearly turning the day into night and the wind picked up. A storm was definitely on its way.

Jason blinked a couple of times and turned to the ocean. She couldn’t read his expression – he was wearing his mask of indifference he’d perfected over the years at Camp Jupiter. At last, he said, “Okay.”

“I just need some perspective.”

“Okay.”

It wasn’t okay. Piper had to remind herself why she had to do this in the first place, because all she wanted to do was throw herself at him and be held in his arms while he kissed her over and over and over.

When the silence felt too suffocating, she said, “I know it’s not fair to ask, but you’re my best friend too. I don’t think I can lose you. Not after Leo.”

“Okay.”

There was no emotion in his voice and it made her want to scream at him. Actually, she wanted him to scream at her. Or something. She wanted a reaction; anything to show her how he was feeling. It was a done deal now, though – Jason had closed himself off and nothing was going to pry him open at that moment.

“I guess I’ll just…” his voice cracked and he cleared his throat, moving to grab his forgotten ice-cream cup. He kept his head down, not meeting her eyes. “I’ll give you your space, then.”

“Jason…” But he was already getting up and leaving.

Piper knew it was going to hurt, as much as she knew she had to do it. However, actually watching him physically walk away from her broke something in her chest and a sob escaped her lips. Suddenly, the weather was fitting – cloudy, windy, cold. And if thunder and lightning rumbled above and followed his retreating figure… well, she just knew she would never enjoy a thunderstorm quite the same way ever again.

[irwintry]

Like Candy

Warnings: swearing

Author’s Note: stomp on the ground (sea bears take it as a challenge) i kinda wish i could rewrite this part but at the same time i dont wanna 

Word Count: 1.9k

part one

Ashton's life felt like clockwork. Everything fit together just perfectly, and he had it all planned to a t. He knew exactly what kind of life he wanted to live during and after fame. Of course, there were a few roadblocks here and there, but his life remained steadily consistent.

You played a big part in that. He was used to you, even though he was the biggest pest of your life. That he knew. He loved seeing you flustered, and a part of him wanted it to be because of other reasons. Except, Ashton couldn't have that. His plan didn't involve you like that, so he scrapped whatever pieces included seeing you. That meant no Scotty's, no sunny-side-up eggs, and no you.

He stopped holding parties, too. He feared you would show up announced so you could talk to him. If he was honest – which he really, really wanted to be, he would let you talk to him. He would stop the entire world to see you one more time. But, he couldn't convince himself to even drive by that diner that had every jam in the world but orange marmalade. It was okay because he didn't like orange marmalade.

"You're depressing," a friend of his pointed out one night. They were four beers in, and Ashton felt nothing.

"Don't say that," he told his friend (whose name did not matter). Ashton felt it was his duty to defend himself at every given moment. He wouldn't allow himself to feel vulnerable, even when he wanted to crumble. He wanted to admit he was weak. He wasn't the Ashton that you grew to hate at the diner.

One morning, he drove by Scotty's. The windows were gone, and the glass doors had painted red x's down the front. He accidentally honked out of frustration, which caused a parade of honks to echo down the boulevard. The diner had been cut out of his life for two months now, but it destroyed him to see it go before he could say goodbye. This also meant he had no idea how to find you.

He only knew your first name and that you had a pug named Horace. By this point, the only way of seeing you again was if you decided to knock on his front door. You wouldn't; he made it clear he didn't want to see you again after never going back to Scotty's. He could tell you weren't the type to chase after things, especially when they weren't even yours in the first place. But in a way, he hoped he was wrong.

That kind of made Ashton hate himself. Why couldn't he just be nice to you? He wanted to show you exactly how he felt, but he couldn't. He had become the definition of a stupid schoolboy being a meanie because he had a crush on a girl. The pure idea made it hard for him to live with himself. He wanted to take it all back. Ashton didn't like to apologize, but for you, he wanted to spend the rest of his life making sure you knew how sorry he was.

Maybe that was why he drove by Scotty's in the first place. He had to start somewhere.

Sometimes, he drove by that gas station off of La Cienega to see if he could spot you pumping gas. He would even stop there a few times to buy him a little more time... just in case.

Ashton felt really pathetic. To him, you were sweet like candy (you reminded him of a Hershey's kiss), but not a fucked-up Warhead like himself. If you kept him in your cheek, it would only burn a little less. Too much of him would be unbearable.

What he didn't know was that you wouldn't believe any of that. You saw right through his sour shell. You also felt bad for him, but you'd never admit that to the poor soul. After knowing him for as long as you had, you figured out why he built a wall around his feelings. His "likings" towards you were hidden behind cold glares and deep, unkind laughter. You wanted to forgive him for that, which is why it took you two months to shake off the complex emotions rattling around in your brain.

You were pounding on his front door at eleven o'clock at night– you were too tired of feeling this way. You were too tired of this open-ended story he wrote for the two of you, even if it meant rejection.

Ashton had been fresh out of the shower, his eyes droopy and exhausted from a long day of writing and brainstorming. A stained gray shirt adorned his chest, the heathered material tucked tight into sweatpants of a darker shade. He was just about to make himself a bowl of black raspberry frozen yogurt when he heard your rhythmic knocking.

Neither of you said anything as he opened the door with a tired smile – a smile that fell right as his eyes landed on your sad ones. He took you in, forcing himself to keep the damn door open because he needed to face his feelings. It was a miracle you were here; he wouldn't have found you if you hadn't shown up.

"I– "

"'m not gonna be mean," he said, his voice sleepy.

Already, things were off to a different start than you had thought. You figured he'd slam the door in your face with a roll of his eyes. You would knock again, and he'd shout something rude from the inside. Or, he'd let you in and fuck you over once again.

You nodded.

Ashton felt a bit of bile rise up in his throat, so he opened the door for you and swallowed it down while you walked by him. It was his body's way of pushing away any temptations to be as cruel and sour as he had been months ago.

"Can I get you anything?" he asked softly. He couldn't even believe he had enough strength to vocalize coherent words. "Water? Toast with jam?"

You chuckled to yourself. "'m good," you said. "I just– uh, I should've stayed home." You scratched your arm through the waffled material of your sweatshirt.

Ashton looked at you with wide eyes, and he let you continue.

"I thought it would be smart of me to come here and tell you everything that's been on my mind," you continued. "I thought I would waltz in and easily explain how you've made me feel. I mean, fuck, Ashton you played me. You told me you liked me, fucked me, and then left me there. I shouldn't have come because clearly you don't care, and you never cared." You started towards the door, proud that you had said all of that without shedding a single tear. When you reached for the door handle, Ashton stepped in between you and the metal.

"'s not fair," he whispered, it was quite wimpy at that. "Not fair what I did to you. I'd take it back if I could."

"Then why– " You took a deep breath. "Why did you do it in the first place?"

He sighed and instinctively reached for one of your hands; it shocked him that you didn't pull away. "A little messed up in here," he said as he used his other hand to motion toward his head. There was a light laugh that escaped from his lips, but it wasn't genuine. Seeing you and holding this conversation gave him the worst anxiety he had felt since his first stage performance.

You nodded but said nothing. You were waiting for him to prove himself.

It was like a bomb went off in Ashton's head. He gripped his hair, attempting to force the truth out of his mouth while every muscle in his face tensed as time passed. He had never been this awful at feelings, especially when the risk of you never believing him was so strong. Not only that, but he had no excuse to act the way he did around you. You knew he liked you. What he never told you was that he was absolutely head over heels in love with you and the idea of you. Most likely, it was the latter that drove him insane. He didn't know you, not enough to be in love with you.

"But you know me better than anyone else," he said out of the blue. He waited to see your expression change, yet it didn't. Maybe you agreed. "Y'know, I really don't expect you to understand anything 'm gonna say."

You raised an eyebrow. "Why? Because you don't think I'm smart, or something?"

"No!" Ashton had fucked up already. "Fu– no, that's not– I didn't mean to say it like that. You, like, really fucked my mind up. You know I like you, you know I– "

"Do I?"

He frowned. "I like you way more than I let out. I mean, it's fucking crazy how much I like you. You and Scotty's were my escape, and once I started going there for you and you only, I didn't know how to be nice. You were bringing out the worst in me, and to this day, I don't know why. I'm giving you no reasons to trust me or believe me. Literally no reasons. You have every right to be mad or confused, or to just fuckin' slap me if you– "

It was like a brick hit his face. He hadn't actually expected you to slap him, but he was glad you did. It stopped the word vomit from ensuing moments later, and it released whatever tensions you were holding back.

He breathed out, shutting his eyes momentarily so he could steady his emotions. "I wanted you more than I've wanted anyone in my life, and I didn't know what to do. I want you." He couldn't open his eyes. "I played you. I fucked you over. And I'll forever hate myself for treating you the way I did. I wanna make it up to you– I'd spend my whole life doing it, but I'd never blame you for walking away."

When he opened his eyes, he noticed your rosy cheeks. You appeared to have relaxed a little bit– even though your arms were crossed, and your shoulders were hunched over. You weren't looking at him.

"'m just confused," you whispered. You looked so small, and he wanted to do was wrap you up in his arms. "I've never met anyone who will confess their feelings to someone and then drop them out of their life like one of their hook-ups. I actually had feelings for you, too. Dunno how. You were fuckin’ cruel."

Ashton's face crumbled. He could hear his heart in his ears as he took a step back against the door. Had you ever told him how you felt before? He couldn't remember; like always, he had focused on himself.

After that, he didn't know what to say. The silence was burning into his skull after every passing moment and looking into your eyes was too overwhelming for him to focus on another thought. The situation he had put himself in created this. And yet, he no longer felt nervous. He felt every bit comfortable being this vulnerable in front of you– something that he never thought he would ever, ever feel.

"I'm so sorry," he breathed out, almost a little too hushed for anyone to hear.

But you had. You just nodded.

"It's late," he said. "Stay tonight."

"Ash– "

"Please."

You didn't react right away. This was the longest time the two of you had maintained solid eye contact, and it was too overwhelming to look elsewhere. You wanted to see those hazel eyes until colors failed you.

"Okay," you mumbled.

Ashton felt his heart skip. The universe was giving him another chance    

[starsgivemehp]

☯ + Judgement Hall

Canon Drabbles | accepting

(WELLLLL this isn’t a drabble. It’s very long. BUT it just so happens I’d written this long ago from Frisk’s point of view, from an earlier version of Red, so getting to rewrite it in his POV and with updated backstories was an opportunity I couldn’t pass up. So, here you are~!)

- - - - -

“stop right there, kid.”

Red watched the human child come to asurprised halt, clearly startled by his sudden appearance. They hadn’t spokensince Snowidn, but he’d been there, watching, from Syren’s little concert tothe vents of Hotland to the winding hallways of the core. He wasn’t impressed.He stood facing them, his hands in his pockets, gaze narrowed. They gave himthat innocent, confused look, the same look they gave Mettaton, and Undyne, andVex, and anyone else who fought them. Like they couldn’t believe it. He grit histeeth.

“don’t gimme that look… you and i both knowwhat’s gonna happen next.”

They tilted their head slightly. They wereeven shorter than him, a child, their body stocky and still growing. Theirhands moved precisely, quick and confident.

‘Why are you here, Red?’

“don’t ask stupid questions. you made it allthis way, you beat my boss, and the captain, even the human-killing robot. youshould’ve died ages ago. how did you survive?”

They didn’t answer, their hands hesitating,and he scoffed.

“yeah, i know how. by making friends with them. by being nice to them until they spared you outof pity, or to return the favor. well, lemme tell ya somethin’, kid. no onespares anyone down here. that’s just not how the underground works. for years,there’s been only one rule. kill, or bekilled.”

Frisk set their jaw, straightening up, andfinally found words.

‘But I did neither of those things.’

“that’s right. you didn’t kill, and you weren’tkilled. well. good for you, kid. but now what? you can’t pass the barrier onyour own no matter how much ‘determination’ you have. you need a monster souland a human soul. and not just any monster soul, either. a monster soul thatwill persist long enough after death for you to take it and absorb it. a bossmonster’s soul. and as of right now, there are only two boss monsters. one isthe king. and the other… well, who knows where the queen went?”

Frisk lifted their hands, but he bulldozed on,unwilling to let them dig in with their talk of mercy. Not for this.

“so, kid, we got a good ending and a bad ending.the bad ending is, you walk past me and fight and kill our king – and he’s areal jerk, don’t get me wrong, but he isking – you take his soul, you pass through the barrier leaving us behind in apower vacuum. we fall into despair; monsters everywhere start falling down anddying. we struggle to survive and hope against hope that another human fallssoon. or… the good ending. you die. you give us your soul, and we break free ofthis mountain.”

Of course, the King had plans of war, butthose could be dealt with after. vex and undyne weren’t training for nothing,or just to beat up vagabonds. This kid didn’t need to know these things.

He pulled his left hand out of his pocket, palm up, hispupils softening a little around the edges. He did his best to look genuine.

“you can guess which one we’d prefer. i’m askin’ ya nicely,kid. do everyone a favor, and give it up peacefully. if you do, i’ll make yourdeath quick and painless. i’m a nice guy sometimes, y’know, and i don’t like toput in a lot of effort. fighting is a hassle, don’t you agree? “

He waited like that patiently, with his arm stretched out,while Frisk stared at him in shock. He wasn’t surprised. His offer wasdownright generous, compared to the other fights they’d been through. There wasa chance, a small chance that theymight actually take his offer, and he wouldn’t have to make this a big mess.But, he could tell already they weren’t going to take his offer. Of course. Hewas resigning himself even before their jaw set.

‘I’m going to return to the surface, and I’m taking you allwith me.’

Red sighed, flipping his hand for the palm to face Frisk.

“well, i tried it the easy way. now you get the hard way.”

He turned their soul blue and threw them into the airviciously.

Things seemed to blur after that. He was sure he’d beatenthem, he was sure he could smell the sickening tang of human blood, making histhroat close up and his soul thud in revulsion. But no, here he was again, hishand out, ready to turn their soul blue. He paused for just a moment, watchingthem.

“that expression…”

He turned their soul blue and flung them. They survived hisattack, slamming the CHECK button. He tried not to shiver, and instead smirked,enjoying their shocked expression at his piss-poor stats.

“what? thought i was stronger? i toldja i didn’t likefighting. but hey, you should’ve attacked while you had the chance, buddy.”

He attacked viciously, trying to dredge up the faintest hintof KR to make it easier on himself. He couldn’t. He couldn’t muster therighteous fury needed to make his magic spark yellow, to make his attacks domore than one measly point at a time. But even without it, he had tricks andworkarounds that gave him a severe advantage.

Things started blurring a little more, but he was gettingused to it. He was experiencing the time LOADs he’d theorized they were usingto win. But he still wouldn’t let them win.

‘Hey, Red! What do you call a skeleton that stuck its head inthe freezer? A numbskull!’“hehehe, good one kid. i’ll use it myself when i get tothe surface.”-- - - - - - - - -‘Did you sit on a pile of sugar, Red? Because you have apretty sweet ass!’“hehe. clever, but i’m a skeleton. i don't have an ass.”- - - - - - - - - -'Red, please, stop! You’vekilled me four times now!’“i know how to count,thanks. i’m a physicist. a well-rounded five, maybe?”

 - - - - - - - - - -

“lemme tell you a story.”

Red wandered over to oneof the pillars in the golden hallway. The kid was clutching their bleeding arm.The smell of blood made him nauseated, but he shook it off. He watched themwith his good eye, the blind right one closed to give him a casual look.

“so i’m a sentry atsnowdin forest, right? out there, in the middle of nowhere, is a door. the doorto the ruins, i’m guessing. but it’s perfect for knock-knock jokes. one time, iwas sittin’ there, crankin’ 'em out as usual, when i heard a voice. a laugh.someone was on the other side, and they liked my stupid puns. it was a woman. idon’t know her name, i never asked. but she really freakin’ loves puns. then sheknocked herself and told one of her own. she was good. we startedgoin’ back and forth, almost every day. we’ve been doin’ it for years now. it’sgreat.”

He knew he had a stupid,fond look on his face as he told the story. Even though he’d never seen her face,he had a terrible fondness for her.

“one day… thelady wasn’t laughin’ much. somethin’ was wrong, i could tell. y'know, i’mpretty good at telling stuff like that. so i asked her what was up. she neverdid get around to tellin’ me what happened. but instead, she asked mesomethin’. she asked me, 'Red, how do you feel about promises?’ and so i toldher, 'look lady, i don’t make promises to people unless i trust 'em a lot…but you’re one of those people. tell me what you want and i’ll decide.’ so shetold me this: “If a human ever passes through this door… please kill them.’”

'Wait, what?’ Frisksigned incredulously.

“it’s the truth.she said to me, 'Please kill them quickly and painlessly. Do not let KingAsgore torture them. Give them the mercy of a painless death from someone witha good heart.’ and so i promised her that. and then, all these years later,here you are.”

'But… but…’

“look. i take mypromises seriously. i keep 'em even if they could kill me. so i intend to keepthis one too.”

He pushed off from the pillarand outstretched his good hand again, palm up.

“you’ll never get outwithout killing the king, kid. we’ll never get out without your soul. this isthe best outcome any of us can hope for. i’ll make sure it’s painless. just takemy offer.”

It was sparing, in itsown way. Yes, they would die, but he could make it be painless. Hell, if it madethem feel better, he’d give them a hug and a last wish or dying request. He’dmake their name be known and immortalized. But, of course, they refused. Theylooked like they were about to start crying, which made his soul clench.

Don’t you do that to me, kid. I HAVE to dothis.

‘Red… I can’t. I refuseto die. I refuse to give up.’

“but why?”he asked, frustrated. “giving up is so much easier. it takes so littleeffort. it hurts less. just… give up, kid.”

‘I won’t.’

Red sighed, slowlydropping his hand.

“y’see? this is why i hate making promises.”

He rolled his shouldersand jumped back into the fray.

- - - - - - - - - -

He gave that speechseveral more times. He always gave them a chance. He couldn’t stop himself. Itwas a part of the ‘script’ he supposed. But he always doubled down after that.They kept sparing, insisting, and multiple times, he knew he snarled that hehated them as he sent another attack their way. He lost count. It had to beover 30 times he killed them total. And he could feel that he was getting tired.Reaching his limits. They were getting better and better.

No wonder they even got past Undyne.

The worst part was theirwords.

“if you’re not gonnadie, you stupid kid, then just kill me and get it over with!” he snarled, andthey reeled like they’d been struck.

‘No!’

“why the fuck not?”

‘Because I care aboutyou, I can’t kill you!’

“wha…?” He paused in hisattack, staring at them with darkened sockets. “you… care about me…?”

‘I care about all ofyou! I care about your brother, and Undyne, and Alphys, and I definitely careabout you!’

And that ridiculouslittle kid actually made it seem… believable.He recalled Vex going red in the face during their ‘play date,’ watching Undynechasing them down only to have her stalk over tot their house and mumble somethingabout cooking with them, raiding Alphys’s lab only to see her dumping out herworse experiments herself. They had all changed… Was it really only becausethis kid showed they cared? Was that really it?

…No. It couldn’t be.There had to be other things at play. It was all some sick game. He grit histeeth, yanking them with blue magic again.

“you don’t. those arejust words. if you really cared about me, about any of us… you would just die already!”

He saw vividly tearingthrough their fragile flesh with a dozen bones, the blood spattering. His soulseized at the gore, and he felt vomit welling up before the world blurred.

- - - - - - - - - -

“…survive this, and i’ll show you my specialattack!”

He had said those wordseight times before. He was fighting a losing battle. What was the point? Hethrew everything at them. Everything he had, until he was gasping for breath, themagic in his good eye sputtering, exhaustion sweeping through him. He fell tohis knees, the assault ending, and they were still alive. Bleeding, but alive.The smell was horrible, but he was too tired to even be grossed out by thispoint.

“hhh… hhh…hhh… why won’t… you… just die…?” he panted,his eye sockets completely blank now. “why… hhh… why won’t you…just… give up…? hhh… please… hhh… please just… give up…”

He held onto his ‘turn’with the last ounces of will he had in him. Even so, they shuffled closer,kneeling in front of him. He braced for the end. But instead, he heard theirsoft, mostly unused voice.

“I can never give up,Red. I’ve got to get out.”

“hhh… k-kid… i don’t… idon’t have… some special attack… that’s all i got… hhh… you, you beat me… i can’tkill you, s-so… so please, just… kill me instead…”

“No! I refuse to killyou. I refuse to kill anyone.”

“please… please, kid, i’m beegin’ ya… after allof this… i can’t do it… i can’t watch you kill the king… take away our hope. ican’t watch boss feel betrayed… i just… i can’t, kid, i can’t do this anymore,i can’t…”

He broke off in a soband hated himself deeply for that weakness. Here he was, crumpled in front of achild, crying pathetically like he was still a little kid himself. If anyoneelse saw, he’d be dead. But all Frisk did was put their little hand on hisshoulder, and rub gently.

“I won’t. I care aboutyou, I’d never hurt you.”

He shook his head,sobbing quietly again. “if you cared about me, you’d do this for me… i’ve onlygot 1… i’m all out of HOPE. watchin’ you take away boss’s hope is gonna kill meanyway… this would be the less painful way to go, please…”

“I refuse.”

“why… not even for revenge?i killed you so many times i lost count.”

“Yes… But it doesn’tmatter. I know you’re a good person. You were fighting me to protect the peopleyou love.”

“that doesn’t excusemurder… and i ain’t the only one. so many have been cruel, anyone else wouldtake one look at us and just call us all bad people!”

“Well… I believe eventhe worst person can change. That everyone can be a good person, if they justtry. I’m going through life trying to be the best person I can be. Forgivingeveryone of their mistakes and bad choices, in the hopes they’ll try to becomebetter people too. It’s working so far… Hasn’t your brother changed? You sawhim after our date.”

Red wiped at his eyes,shifting to sit on his haunches slowly. “yeah, he… he looked happy… he hasn’tlooked so happy in a long time…” He looked up at them tiredly. “you… you changedhim, kid.”

“I’m glad! Because Icare about him a lot! And I’d never hurt him, especially not by killing you.You’re his precious brother. He loves you, you know. Even if he doesn’t say it.”

Red felt tears well up inhis sockets again. His soul throbbed. He knew, deep inside, it had just… beenso long since he’d acknowledged it. What with all of their fighting, theinsults, the punches, the disappointment and goading, the vicious cycle they’dbeen stuck in… Despite all of that…

“i… i know he does. ilove him too. that’s why i want him to get to the surface. i… want him to drivea cool car, and see the sun ride every morning…”

‘I want that too.’ Friskshifted back to signing now that he was watching them. ‘I’m gonna do it, Red. I’mgoing to set everyone free.’

“but how? we can’tharness the power of your soul without killing you, and we need it. besides,the king is…”

‘I’ll find a way. I alwaysfind a way.’

“heh…” He fell silent,looking down at his hand. He was exhausted, and emotionally wrung out, and…despite all of his conviction, there was something about Frisk. Something hecouldn’t help but trust. “somehow… i believe you, kid. i’m sorry foreverything.”

They smiled at him andoffered their hand. He took a deep breath, then took it to get to his feet.

The FIGHT ended.

[lamiaward]

Congratulations , you are mothers! ( it is a dragon)

Oh gods have thy mercy on me and finally help me find good names, both for fics and characters. I don’t own the Worst Witch. This is the fic where Pippa finds a dragon egg and raises it with Hecate, enjoy. Also, it takes place shortly after New Dawn (although I still kind of plan on rewriting that episode because some things were very out of character etc but okay) and assumes that Hecate and Pippa remain utter disasters so their friendship is kind of fragile at the beginning of this story. 

Furthermore, I firmly believe Hecate is such an utter oblivious dumbass when it comes to women that even if she found something like a romance about two witches in the possession of her ‘gal’ she wouldn’t connect the dots.

Warning: mention of death.

It is small, and unassuming but there is so much magic to it that Pippa almost feels dizzy just standing next to it. Even more overwhelming than the waves of magic slamming into her, is the sharp pain that feels like a knife slipping through her ribs at the sight of the body curled around the small thing.

Pippa Pentangle is known as kind, bright, happy to the point of frivolity- few know that she is also terrifying. But if they were still around, if who did this had been standing in front of Pippa right now, she would’ve done far worse than just punch them. In fact, she needs to take several deep breaths before she runs towards the rocks where the dragon egg is mostly kept hidden by the magenta claws of his mother curled protectively around them.

She kneels down next to the dragon, who growls lowly but is clearly too weak to attack her. And Pippa has always had a way with magical creatures; unicorns headbutting her shoulder affectively long after she stopped being a maiden, griffin chick’s jumping in her lap, even manticore’s flicking their tails playfully at her. In fact, she knows of only one person who exceeds her gift with animals.

“ Oh you poor thing” she whispers at the dragon, blinking rapidly. Bluish blood drips down, and Pippa doesn’t need to be a specialist to tell the creature is fading, and her entire coven wouldn’t have had enough to save her. She places her hand above the scales- never touch dragons, for their scales have hidden barbs that could cut Pippa’s hand as effectively as any knife- and starts to chant.

She doesn’t ask for healing, but she asks for no pain to be felt. She demands no vengeance, but suggests this great creature’s soul to rest at least. She doesn’t ask anything for the small creature still cradled beneath its mother’s claws, in deep sleep and unaware of how the bright colours of his mother are already fading, the dark blue steadily turning grey beneath Pippa’s hand.

Dragons long lost the powers of speech- some witches even think they never possessed it. But Pippa could swear that when the dragon fights to raise her head, and turns it- that when she looks straight into Pippa’s eyes, leaving her struck breathless by the cold spreading through her, she speaks. Just two words.

Protect it.

And then she dies, and Pippa is left weeping silently. Dragon scales can be used for at least a dozen potions. Dragon eyes are powerful amulets. If one bathes in dragon blood, they’re as immortal as queen Mab. It is said that a dragon’s heart has the power to amplify your magic tenfold. Pippa mutters a last prayer, and rises slowly.

She doesn’t take anything, nor does she try to bury the dragon. She doesn’t have to move the paw; the dragon used her last strength to do it herself. And there it is, what Pippa glimpsed at first. An ordinary person wouldn’t look twice, would think it is just a rock. But when Pippa carefully lifts the egg in her arms, it is warm and beating against her. As soon as she touches it, it changes color subtly until it is the same bright pink of her dress.

She starts to walk again, potion gatherings and festivals long forgotten.

It is first time in three weeks she speaks to Hecate.

Which is nothing compared to three decades, but it stings nonetheless. It is just as frustrating, to walk into Cackle’s and be met with distrust and accusations, as it was to walk into the great castle of Caleign , be surrounded by half-competent potion mistresses and be unable to talk to Hecate. Still, perhaps she should be glad that she has Hecate at all, and just push down the rest- but Pippa has never been able to do that. Has always lost herself in whatever she wanted, since the first time she Hecate spoke up in class and Pippa couldn’t think about anything for days but how she had finally found a person that could keep up, that she needed to be friends with.

She just hopes Hecate looks at her, and sees something similar. Because it is three decades later, and Pippa has never been able to stop needing Hecate. At least she answers the mirror now.

“Pippa” it is just her name, but she loves it whenever Hecate says it. It feels like an incantation for happy days and calm nights.

“ Hecate, hello. I am ever so sorry to disturb you- “she gives Hecate her prettiest, most potent smile. “But I am afraid I need your help”

“ With wha- oh” Hecate swallows, staring at the egg Pippa has carefully lifted, and is now in her lap.

“ The parent died”

A muscle in Hecate’s face twitches. “ How?”

Pippa takes a deep breath, not wishing to have her anger affect the dragon. Dragon baby’s are notoriously sensitive to emotions, especially when they come with magical outbursts.  “Poachers. I have heard that the industry is still thriving, and they wished for her eggs. There were two corpses – but it appears as though the rest of the group got away, and took the other egg”

“ It is rare for them to have more than one egg at once” Hecate just says, but Pippa still knows her well enough to recognize the anger struggling against Hecate’s famous self-control.

“ Indeed. This one is – I am afraid it is not as strong as its brethren”

“ Did she choose you?”

Pippa nods. “There is only a handful of specialists, but my deputy is actually friends with one of them. It appears as though the responsibility falls with me- someone else can still raise it of course, but that would mean rejecting it and- “

“ I am well-aware of the process. What do you require of me?”

Pippa laughs breathlessly. “ It is not exactly a one-woman job, and I have my school to run. And you- “ she smiles hesitantly at Hecate. “ Well, you have always had a talent with magical creatures”. That is an understatement.

Hecate stares at the egg, then nods briskly. “ Of course. I will have to discuss it with Ada, but I imagine that I will be able to leave in an hour. Do you know which species it is?”

“ One of the frostborn species, I imagine”  she tugs on one of her hairlocks.  “The mother breathed on me- I have yet to be able to remove the frost from my hair tips”

“ I  noticed” she doesn’t know what to make of Hecate’s tone, and the way she looks at Pippa before glancing away and clearing her throat. “ I would suggest that you wrap it into something cold, and remain near it”

Pippa nods. She had thought something similar, which is why her room was at least ten degrees colder than she liked it herself. “ I very much agree. I shall inform my deputy that you are coming, do you need- “

“ I will find you” Hecate interrupts, apparently still apt at anticipating what Pippa is going to say. She doesn’t smile, but her face is decidedly less rigid, her voice softer, when she says “ goodbye Pippa” and breaks the connection. It’s funny, but it always makes Pippa’s heart jump into her throat. A part of her is terrified constantly, now that they’ve reconciled.

She is supposed to be an adult, but at the thought of losing whatever second chance – no matter how little it is compared to what she wants- they have gotten, Pippa honestly feels like a teenager experiencing her first heartbreak. She cradles the egg to her chest.

“ It hurts, doesn’t it? Losing someone you love?” she whispers to it, smiling through her stinging eyes. “  Poor thing, all alone without your mother. I know someone else like you, you know. I think you will like her- she is coming here in a while. She will help us, you’ll see”

Pippa stands up, adding one last cold spell to the nest she made. It has everything their dragon needs; cold (but not too much) , softness, protection, hair or fur and magic nearby. Her entire castle is a strongpoint of magic, but she still feels uncomfortable leaving, so she sits down next to it, and starts to talk.

“ I am not an expert on your kind, but I have my fair share of knowledge. I have always wanted to be a teacher, but I also wanted to work with magical creatures. I actually planned to start my own reserve if this school did not work out, and I prepared for that. I reckon I will mistakes, but at least I know the most important things”

She sings a high note, smiling and then shivering as the room cools down slightly.  “There. This should be to your liking” she stands up, walks over to her closet and retrieves her favourite cloak to wrap it around her. “It is not truly to mine however, I am s-sorry” she sits down again, smiling. The connection is pulling tight around her, until she can feel the second heartbeat that is a half-second slower than her own.

She sneezes. “We lost one of the students a few days back. I spend half the night searching the woods” she chuckles.  “Poor girl had wandered into the wrong part- our forest is magical, and it quite likes confusing you when you annoy it. It kept sending her the wrong way, but we finally found her in the morning”

She curls her hands around the hot cup of tea. “ Things like that happen in a school, especially one where magic is taught. I am certain you will experience many mishaps in your time with us”

“ One should hope that they would only experience the least amount of … mistakes” a familiar voice drawls.

Pippa gasps, and stands up so suddenly the room nearly tilts.  “Hecate” she doesn’t even think about rushing towards her friend, and hugging her. There is the familiar smell of Hecate’s shampoo, the one she makes herself. Hecate never uses anything that has a lot of scent to it, no soft-smelling roses or the bottled smell of spring. Others may find it boring, but for Pippa it is just uniquely Hecate. And she knows Hecate can’t stand too much stimuli, doesn’t like too-pronounced smells, colours or sounds.

She pulls back. “ Well-met”

“ Well-met” Hecate mutters, her eyes on the egg. She takes a few careful steps towards it. “ How long until it is safe to leave the egg?”

“ Miss Lazul told me that they won’t be long, perhaps a fortnight”

“ I arranged with Ada that I could spend time here. She knows it takes at least two people”

Pippa nods. “Thank you “she squeezes Hecate’s hand very briefly. “I know it is not easy for you to leave Cackle’s”

Hecate looks like she is about to say something, then closes her mouth again. Pippa is just thinking that pushing might not be so bad, when Hecate just says “ We will have to keep watch. Do you have the first batch ready?”

Pippa nods in the direction of the grey-ish substance. She wrinkles her nose automatically, thinking of the horrid smell. “Yes, I do. We have a window of three days, either for them to be born three days earlier or three days later”

Hecate just nods, and conjures a chair she immediately, very slowly lowers herself into. She flinches slightly when Pippa summons the blanket.

“ I apologize. I just- “ she shrugs. “ I remember how you always used to be cold. I am sorry, I don’t even know whether you still- “

“ I do “ Hecate answers, then immediately seems embarrassed to have revealed this much. She looks at the egg again. “It is quite beautiful”

“ I have always found dragons to be beautiful. Perhaps even more so than unicorns”

“ You love unicorns”

“I love unicorns” Pippa confirms, thinking how Hecate’s slight hesitation is charming. “ I also love manticores, and hellhounds and nearly every other magical creature”

Hecate’s lips twitch. “ I remember”

“I teach my students to be slightly more careful when approaching creatures”

“ I would hope so, unless you wish them to have a scar as well”

“ It wasn’t so bad”

Hecate raises her eyebrows slightly, and Pippa rolls her eyes with a smile. “ Oh do shut up Hiccup “ she says, sipping her tea. Hecate focuses on the egg again, although she is smirking slightly.

“ As you wish” she hesitates, and something in Pippa’s chest expands until it feels like there is no more room in her ribcage, like her ribs are pushed down, breaking, and driven into her stomach. “ Pipsqueak” Hecate finally murmurs, and Pippa breaths again.

They sit in companionable silence for a while, until it becomes too much and Pippa taps her foot on the floor repeatedly until it becomes too much for Hecate. She sighs at the look sent her way, and stops the tapping. “Sorry. I am afraid I have improved, but I have not completely lost my dislike of silence”

“ We were always complete opposites in that regard”

“ I can stay silent, if you wish me to”

“ We can use the time to discuss the proper precautions we will need to take”

It’s Hecate’s way of saying she is okay with talking, with how often Pippa needs noise around her. She smiles easily, and they spent the next hours discussing bringing food for the dragon to the castle ( they can hunt Pippa, there are woods behind your castle), the right spells to cast around them ( they do not just need protection, they are allowed to have fun) and any of the other dozen details that need to be arranged. The first night passes quickly.

They are the best weeks Pippa has had in years.

They finally talk again, stilted at first, filled with long silences and hesitations, until they become comfortable again, and it turns into long discussion( they keep forgetting their tea, and Pippa loves Hecate’s face whenever she drinks her tea and it turns out to be cold). They cast spells together, and bicker about the right one ( Hecate always more focused on practicality, whereas Pippa argues that a little frivolity is certainly a necessity of life as well). They read anything that may tell them more about their dragon ( Hecate is browsing Pippa’s bookcase when she takes out the wrong book and blushes furiously at the image of a dark head of hair between the spread legs of another nude woman on the cover of Pippa’s favourite romance novel). They discuss anything, from potions to chanting to teaching methods- the only thing they avoid is the time spent apart, although Pippa pretends to be surprised when Hecate talks about the potion research she has done the past decades (I have read every article, Pippa doesn’t say) and Hecate discovers Pippa has actually travelled extensively, learning about new methods but also finding her deputy and best friend in a rainforest hallway across the world.

It is the twelfth day, and the first time Hecate actually stays the entire night -although not on purpose. She has fallen asleep in her chair, book laying open on her lap. Pippa is just considering magicking her into bed when she starts to move slightly, and something in Pippa recognizes the sounds before they have even registered fully.

“Hecate- “

She just makes the same sound, like a scared animal stuck in a trap. Pippa repeats her name, but Hecate has always been hard to wake when she was having nightmares. The other woman moves, her eyes rolling beneath her closed eyelids, and mutters something incomprehensible.

“ Hecate!” Pippa repeats, gently touching the other witch’s arm. “It is just a dream, darling, wake up”

There are beads of sweat sliding down Hecate’s neck now, and her eyes are rolling even more. Pippa smells the familiar tang of Hecate’s magic when she is afraid, when she is slipping. She grasps her hands. “ Hiccup darling, please wake up “ she says clearly, and Hecate jolts.

“ Pippa- “ she gasps, eyes wide and teary, a few errand tears actually escaping. She slowly wakes, looking more embarrassed and less confused with every second that passes.

Pippa allows her a little space, then stops her when she stands and snaps her fingers to gather her belongings.  “I should lea-“

“ Stay. It is the middle of the night, and all this travelling is exhausting you” it is true; Pippa has hardly ever seen Hecate this exhausted

“The process saps your magic, they use it to grow- “

“ It is not just that, Hiccup. Our little hatchling is sapping my strength as well, and I am not nearly as exhausted as you. Stay, please”

For some reason, Hecate just stares at her for a while before giving in. Pippa expected getting her to stay would be a lot harder, as she has tried several times already. But she doesn’t show her slight surprise, just smiles and thanks Hecate before allowing her some time to get ready for bed. It is no more than twenty minutes later that Hecate walks into the room again, her hair down and wearing a simple ( but lovely, so lovely Pippa’s mind whispers) gown. Pippa forces a smile, forcing her eyes to remain on Hecate’s face (hardly a punishment) and to not drift to her bare legs, or what is visible of her chest. She closes her book and follows Hecate to the bed that they have moved, so it is now next to their dragon.

Hecate freezes, apparently only now realizing what Pippa offered. “ I can sleep on-“

Pippa rolls her eyes.  “ Do not be ridiculous” she smiles, pretending not to notice how Hecate is holding herself even more stiffly than usual, how her magic is readying itself for a transference spell. “ The bed is large enough for both of us… And I promise I do not snore, nor hog the covers.. Hiccup”

Hecate relaxes the absolute minimum amount.“ You actually do snore, it sounds like a Banshee”

Pippa gasps. “ I do not”

There is an almost indecipherable smile on Hecate’s face. “I could not believe it at first either. I genuinely thought we were being attacked the first time I woke up and heard.. that”

“ I cannot- well, if that is true, why did you not tell me?”

“ I did not wish to embarrass you”

“You could’ve saved me a dreadful breakup “Pippa mutters, grimacing.

Hecate stiffens again. “ I beg your pardon?”

Pippa feels herself flush slightly. “ You will laugh at me”

Hecate just raises her eyebrow in that way of hers, the one that is both infuriating and very attractive to Pippa somehow. Pippa rolls her eyes again.  “ All right, but get into bed first. I love our babe, but their aptitude for cold is making me feel like a popsicle”

Hecate hesitates, but eventually slips under the covers after several, tense minutes of staring at Pippa. Pippa ignores the way Hecate is still stiff, and trying desperately to keep distance between them, tries to keep herself from warning Hecate she will fall of the bed that way. She wonders whether Hecate has shared her bed at all these past decades, scolds herself for wishing desperately she hasn’t.

“ Do you promise you will not laugh at me?”

“ I hardly think this story is as embarrassing as you fear, Pippa”

She wriggles, trying to get comfortable. She can feel Hecate stiffen even more, hears her breath hitch. Feels her own heart stutter when their legs touch accidentally. “ What are you doing?”

“ Trying to get comfortable. If I am going to humiliate myself, I want to be comfortable at least” there is silence, and Pippa stops her moving around, laying on her side to face Hecate. She is laying on her back, staring at the ceiling. Her shoulders are drawn up, her teeth clenched.

“ Are you all right, Hiccup?” Pippa whispers

“Are you going to tell this story?” she snaps it, but the slight waver in her voice softens the blow.

“ All right” she huffs a little. “ Several years ago, I was set up on a blind date by one of my friends. They hadn’t even told me it was a blind date, so I arrived at our favourite restaurant with newt’s eye on my robes- there had been a slight accident – and my hair looking truly dreadful. It was all quite mortifying”

“ I fail to see how this relates to- “

“ Then listen, Hiccup” Pippa cannot keep herself from smiling; it feels like they’re girls again, huddled on her bed as they swap stories ( although Hecate always listened more than that she told). “ My date actually found the story amusing, but it was a little awkward as I very much did not have the time nor the desire to date”

Pippa pauses to sneak a look at Hecate; she is slowly relaxing. Good. “ As I had told my friends – “ she rolls her eyes fondly at the memory “ I did not really have time to date, and I prefer these things to happen organically anyways. But it would have been very rude to say so, and I stayed and spend an enjoyable evening with Devon”

Pippa tries to ignore the new tension she can feel from the other woman, and resists the urge to touch her hand briefly, lest she startles Hecate so much she disappears again.  “Long story short, we started dating, and it was all fine in the beginning. But then there was a conference I needed to attend, and she simply insisted- “

“ S-she?” Hecate interjects, jolting.

Pippa stares at her. “ Hecate?”

“ But you- you aren’t? “ Pippa is distracted for a moment by the way Hecate cheeks are flushed, and she has this wide-eyed expression and her hair is fanned out on the pillow and Pippa is overcome with the very foolish, and even more powerful desire to kiss her.

When she has herself under control again, or as much under control as she can be around Hecate, Hecate’s question registers, and she pushes herself up abruptly. “ Wait- Hecate, did you believe I fancied wizards?”

“I- but – women?” Hecate splutters, and she would find it adorable were it not that she kind of wants to hex Hecate for her foolishness. I spend half my childhood flirting with you, you oblivious, hard-headed, impossible, gorgeous-

She takes a deep breath. “ Yes, I fancy women. Exclusively, actually. As do you”

Hecate stares at her with badly-concealed horror. “How did you- “

Pippa softens. “It is a bit obvious, Hiccup dear”

Hecate swallows. “It is?”

Pippa cannot stop herself this time, and feels around for Hecate’s hand until she finds it. She squeezes it briefly, then lets go. “Your students are likely too preoccupied with their own love lives to notice or care, Hiccup”

When Hecate remains silent, and doesn’t lose her slightly terrified expression, she adds “And just because you are a teacher, does not mean you need to abstain from love or..  “she flushes herself at the thought of Hecate like that, tries to push away a hundred fantasies and at least a dozen dreams she has had of Hecate where- “ sex”

Hecate honestly looks like she is having an aneurysm ,then suddenly blurts. “ You were telling me about this… Devon?”

“I – yes?” she looks at Hecate, who looks at her like “please, for the love of the Goddess, do not continue talking about this, I am very uncomfortable” so Pippa sighs and decides to let it go.

She pats Hecate’s hand briefly. “ Yes. So Devon was very jealous. I honestly think she was a bit insecure and that that is why she behaved this way. Anyways, it was not very obvious in the early stages of our relationship, but then there was this conference. And we had fights about this for at least a week, because she believed I had ulterior motives for wishing to go alone”

Hecate is frowning. “ It is a professional setting, it would hardly make sense to –“

Pippa smiles. Other people had always found Hecate boring or annoying because of things like these, but Pippa had either seen it as a challenge or just found it refreshing. “You will be shocked to hear then, Hiccup, that many witches – and wizards- use these meetings as hook-ups”

Hecate looks confused for a moment- likely by the term “hook-ups”- then absolutely scandalized. Pippa has to bite her lip to keep herself from laughing. “ I truly fear for the future of the Craft, when even the parents of our pupils behave so abysmally”

Pippa does laugh then, although she manages to stop quickly. “There is nothing wrong with winding down a bit, as long as it does not interfere with the reason you are actually attending the conference”

Hecate raises her eyebrow, but doesn’t say anything. Pippa rolls her eyes fondly at Hecate. “ Shall I continue with the story?”

“If you still wish to tell it” Hecate smirks slightly, and it is a testimony to how much their friendship has been repairing these past weeks that she feels comfortable enough to add “ After all, you already admitted to grossly unprofessional behaviour”

“Wh- I never did that actually” Pippa blushes, suddenly remembering a certain conference, when she was only barely out of witching academy, and Morgana Starling had been there and she had been so heartbroken still and so desperate to make it stop that-

“Pipsqueak?” Hecate questions, and Pippa shakes off the memory.

“I do apologize, I was getting lost in my head” she grimaces slightly. “ You know that still happens”

She doesn’t know what to make of the way Hecate looks at her, and says “ I know” after a brief pause.

“ All right. So where was I?”

“ You were telling me about this… Devon person and her issues with confidence and hence her insistence on following you everywhere”

“ Yes. So Devon and I had several large fights until I finally gave in, and allowed her to come with me” Pippa doesn’t mention that Devon hadn’t initially been so manic about this; it had only been after she had noticed that Hecate was on the guest list that she had demanded and begged and screamed at Pippa to let her come as well. She doesn’t explain, either, that Devon had known , that they had been at a workshop several months earlier and Hecate had been there and Pippa hadn’t been able to stop staring, hadn’t been able to concentrate on anything Devon had said that evening.

She takes a deep breath.  “The conference would last three days and it was all fine at first. After I let go of my initial hesitance, it was actually rather lovely- but then she somehow got it in her head that I was cheating on her”

Hecate raises an eyebrow. “I take it she did not react well”

“ You can say that. I had to focus on my own research but had her constantly following me, practically breathing fire whenever I so much as smiled at another witch, hurling accusations at me – it escalated to the point where I was speaking with a colleague and she was utterly convinced I was sleeping with her”

Hecate is silent for a moment, then says “ You are very affectionate”

“ What?”

“ I – “ Hecate stumbles over her words slightly, frowning. “ The way you speak to others, it is very… affectionate. Perhaps that is why she did not question her own behaviour and choose to disgrace herself this way?”

It takes Pippa a moment to realize Hecate is not taking her ex’s side, merely attempting to understand , and dissect her, in a way. She smiles. It is so utterly Hecate, to focus on everything people wouldn’t think important, and to react in a way that can easily be misunderstood. “ It could be” she agrees

“ I still fail to understand how this all relates to your snoring, however” Hecate says, raising her eyebrows slightly.

Pippa rolls her eyes playfully at her. “ Is this the same Hecate Hardbroom who is fond of saying that ‘patience is a virtue every witch should possess in abundance’ that is plainly telling me I am taking to long to get to the point?”

“ I am merely – “ Hecate flushes and stiffens beneath Pippa’s hold when Pippa blindly grabs for her hand, squeezes it once and lets it go.

“ I am teasing, Hicup. I know you dislike it when people keep winding on, and I do understand. It is merely that you require the events following up to our last fight to understand why it escalated the way it did”

Hecate is silent for another moment. “What happened?”

“ It was the last day of the conference, and I returned later from a lecture than expected. When I opened the door, the room was – well to say it was destroyed would be no exaggeration. Devon and I got into another fight and for some reason, she brought my snoring into it. I had never had any of my other lovers bring it up, so -  “

She cuts herself off when Hecate makes an odd sound, between choking and inhaling sharply. “ Hecate? Are you all- “

“ I am fine”

Perhaps it is Pippa’s imagination – she has been accused of an over imaginative one several times- but it as though the very air between them has changed suddenly. Pippa has to clear her throat several times before she can continue “Anyways, Devon insisted that I “snored so terribly that it could have woken a Welsh dragon in the midst of its hibernation” and I may have overreacted a tad”

“ Which means you- “

“ I screamed at her that if it was that horrendous, she could go find herself a girlfriend that did not make noise, and threw my keys in her face. That was an accident, but I was so furious and- “

“It was not her unreasonable, immature behaviour but the fact that she told you – correctly- that you snored that drove you to break up with her?”

“ She was being really mean about it!” Pippa protests.

“ I understand, but you were an adult at this time, were you not? And- “

It is Pippa’s turn to laugh when a stunned, disgraceful squeak escapes from Hecate when she is hit with the pillow.  “All right, I was a bit ridiculous but I truly thought this was the last of a load of codswallop. She had spun some thick hats before, after all”

“ Regardless, that was – “ Pippa just needs to hear that noise again, and Hecate does not disappoint.

“ I see you have not changed much since you- “ she stops the next hit “ This is behaviour unbecoming of- Pippa”

Pippa falls down on the pillow again laughing breathlessly. “ Oh goddess, I do apologize Hecate but the sounds you make” she wipes away a tear, and turns around in the bed to look at Hecate.

She almost bursts out laughing again when she notices her expression, but pushes herself up so she can better look at Hecate. “ Hiccup? Are you all right, I did not hurt you with my antics, did I?”

“No, I- “ Pippa is shocked by how still Hecate is, frozen enough that she could have been made by marble. Would that not be a statue I could stare at forever. It is only something hitting her head that allows her to tear herself away from her thoughts.

She gapes. “ Hecate Hardbroom, did you just hit me with a pillow?”

“ Do not be preposterous, I would never” Hecate says, voice harsh but for the slight hesitation. She scans Pippa, seemingly checking whether this is all right, before her eyes glance away again. She is very stiff again.

Oh that won’t do at all. “ You know Hiccup, I keep wondering about what has changed about you, and what has not changed one bit.. “ she keeps her voice casual, creeping closer to Hecate. Hecate glances at her, then stiffens that bit more.

“ I hardly think that is of any interest”

Pippa ignores her, and subtly pushes herself that bit closer. If Hecate shifted, she would probably brush Pippa’s arm or hand. “ For example, I do wonder ever so much – “ she waits a beat, long enough for Hecate to snap her head towards her and narrow her eyes.

“ Pippa Phyllis Pentangle, do not- “

“Are you still ticklish?” Pippa rushes out, then pulls Hecate towards her, releases her and shows no mercy. The moment her fingers brush Hecate’s side, the woman twitches and tries to shift away.

“ Pippa- “she speaks through gritted teeth, but then lets out a choked gasp when Pippa’s fingers brush her hip.

“We are no longer children, stop this behaviour this instant- “

“ Oh, you do not get off that easily Hecate. I will not fall for that” Pippa laughs, and brushes her fingers over Hecate’s arms, her hip and even her legs. By the time she has done this several times, Hecate is choking on laughter, and bucking so wildly that Pippa actually receives a elbow to her ribs.

She finally shifts away from Hecate, brushing her fingers against the spot that received a direct hit. She doesn’t stop laughing, and looks down at Hecate. The wind is knocked out of her more violently than if she were to accidentally fly into a tree (or get hit by a nymph’s tree again, long story)

She lays on her side, watching Hecate catch her breath for a moment – she is gorgeous, all red-faced and hair spread out wildly- before forcing herself to lay on her back. If she still knows Hecate, she knows that Hecate despises it when people stare at her, especially in vulnerable, open moments such as this one.

“ I cannot… believe… you just did.. that” Hecate manages to spit out.

“Surely you understand the importance of testing a hypothesis “she says, still laughing a bit.

“I do, but I hardly would accept this as viable research”

“Oh, I disagree very much. I have never had research as important as this” Pippa sobers slightly, and forces herself to only glance at Hecate, careful of her dislike of prolonged eye contact. “ Truly though Hecate, I am very happy that I have this chance to get to know you again”

It is silent for a while, and Pippa prepares to go to sleep, thinking that Hecate has fallen asleep or pretending to when she answers. “ I feel very much to say”

It is a wonder that Pippa manages to sleep at all, with how much that sentence affects her.  But she does, and she even sleeps long and deep until something wet pokes her cheek and she batts at it and turns around to scoot closer to the wonderful, lovely, perfect warmth against her, pushing her feet against the warm-

“ What in the name of- “ Hecate’s voice wakes Pippa, more or less. She yawns, then opens her eyes. She stares right into the face of one nonplussed witch.

She feels her cheeks heat up when she realizes what has happened; somewhere during the night, Pippa must have scooted closer to Hecate until she was laying on her chest, and the rest of her body thrown haphazardly over Hecate’s.

“I am so so- “ Hecate isn’t like Pippa’s other friends, actually does think twice about cuddling and kisses on the cheeks and everything else Pippa would do with other friends without it meaning anything. She only stops her apology because she realizes something. “ Is that your hand on my arse?”

Hecate was already a lovely shade of red, but now she flushes properly. She stammers something and Pippa is still staring at her because that hand is definitely low on her back, just touching- they only spring apart when the little bundle lands in between them.

Pippa shivers. She only now realize that her skin is goose bumping, every breath can actually be seen in front of her and – she grabs at the cold, stiff locks irritating her skin.

“How much of my hair is frozen?” she wonders

“It is mostly the tips, but we have more important things to concern ourselves with”

“Where are they?” Pippa wonders, dropping her hair but making a mental note to do something about it at later.

They both sit up fully, pushing the half-frozen blanket away from them. “I will capture the babe, will you- “

“ Get the potion? “ Pippa finishes, then nods. She slides out of bed, then yelps when her feet touch the floor. “ By Morgana’s  - we truly need to have a stern talking-to with our babe”

She quickly dresses herself with a snap of her fingers, making sure to get her warmest, softest pair of boots. She turns to Hecate. “ May I?”

“ I am able to dress myself , Pippa”

“ Yes, but am I correct in assuming that you only brought your usual outfits, and not something more suitable to this particular situation?”

When Hecate crosses her arms and raises an eyebrow, Pippa knows she is right. And that that is as close to a confession and permission she is going to get, so she snaps her fingers again.

Hecate slowly uncrosses her arms, and looks down at herself. She is wearing the same boots Pippa is, although hers are black. She is wearing long, dark black skinny jeans and a dark grey sweater. There is also a cape that is half-wrapped around her, which is a dark purple.

“ There. They’re my actual clothes, but I changed the colours as I didn’t think you would appreciate the pink”

“Thank you”

“ You are welcome”

Hecate looks at the jeans for a moment, then at Pippa. “ What are .. these?”

“ Surely you must have spend some time around Ordinary people, Hiccup” when Hecate just stares at her, Pippa laughs and says “ I have several children which come from non-magical families. They introduced me some Ordinary things. These are called “skinny jeans”, and I own several pairs “

“I prefer my usual clothing”

“ They look wonderful on you though” Pippa says, eying Hecate for a moment before tearing her eyes away and walking towards the brewed potion and filling a small bowl with it. She hears Hecate mutter something behind her, and feels the familiar sensation of Hecate’s casting. When she turns, there is another part of the room frozen but there is a small shape curled around Hecate’s neck, it’s dark, spiky tail batting at her hair.

It chirps happily when it notes she is looking at it, then jumps into her arms. She levitates the bowl, so that she can catch it. She chuckles when it buts it head against her cheek, then carefully brushes its snout against her cheek. The scales are cold and slightly slimy, a good sign.

“ Hello there” she says gently, wrapping her magic around it and allowing it to tug at her hair.

It chirps again, then purrs, long and slow. She levitates the bowl towards it, then clicks her tongue when it turns its head away. “ You need to drink this, sweetheart”

Hecate marches over to them when it refuses again. She gives it a stern look, then offers the bowl. The dragon hisses, its colours turning a deep, dark green before it jumps on top of Pippa’s head and curls up.

“ Do not be stubborn” she chides it, pushing the bowl in its face. Pippa bites on her lip when she hears another hissing face, and Hecate stumbles backwards, her hairline now streaked with grey and white.

“How- “

“Hiccup, stop it” she chides her. Hecate is great with animals, but she is still very strict and Pippa doubts that will work with this one. “ Pour some of it in my hands” she suggests, cupping her hands to form a sort of bowl. She raises it slightly, waiting patiently.

There are three short chirps before the dragons lands carefully on her lower arm, stretching its neck to sniff the potion. There is another purr and Pippa chuckles when the long tongue laps it all up quickly.

While the dragon is drinking, she focuses on Hecate. “ What do we name them?”

Hecate glances at her, the twitch almost indecipherable. But Pippa catches it, the way she catches any smile or half-smile Hecate ever gifts her with.  “ Khrysopteron. We can call them Khry for short”

Pippa is silent for a moment, then nods and gives Hecate her brightest smile before focusing on “Welcome to the world, Khry . We are your mothers”

In case you are wondering, the name Khrysopteron was an epithet from the Greek goddess Iris (goddess of the rainbow ehe). It is also my personal headcanon that Hecate speaks several languages, of which Greek is probably one, and that she has read nearly every ancient work there is (whether she has a high opinion of authors such as Homer or Euripides is another matter altogether).

This is part 1, I am writing a part 2 that will be set at least a few weeks later, possibly a few months and deal more with Khry and them parent-trapping their disaster mothers.

[huntertales]

Part Three: Knight in Shining Amour. (Like a Virgin S06E12)

Episode Summary: Ten days after regaining his soul, Sam wakes up with no recollection of the past eighteen months since returning from the cage. The reader anxiously wonders if the wall Death put up in Sam’s head, made with part of her very own soul, will be strong enough. Meanwhile, the Winchesters and the reader investigate a string of disappearing virgins and discover dragons are behind the kidnapping. Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader Word Count: 5,083.

Previous Part | Supernatural Rewrite Masterlist

The next morning you and Dean arrived in San Francisco and tracked down the home of one Dr. Visyak, professor of medieval studies. Bobby said if there was anyone who would know about this dragon business, it would be her. You and Dean stepped out of the parked Impala, you took a moment to examine the property before slamming the passenger side door and following behind the older Winchester. The both of you headed to the front double doors. You crossed your arms over your chest as you watched Dean press his index finger against the intercom button. You looked forward when you heard a buzz echo, signaling your presence. It was a second or so until you heard a female voice speak from the other end.

“Dr. Visyak? My name is Dean Winchester.” Dean introduced himself as you bent down slightly to stare into the small camera above the button on the intercom before uncrossing one arm to give a small wave to the professor. “This is Y/N Y/L/N—“

“Office hours are Monday and Friday.” Dr. Visyak said. She cut off the man before he could try and formally introduce the both of you to get it out of the way. It seemed the professor thought you were here on other business that didn’t concern her. The handful of missing girls and a town being terrorized by dragons told a very much different story.

“Bobby Singer sent us.” You explained. You stepped forward so you were now standing next to Dean, the both of you were in perfect view of the small camera Dr. Visyak could be staring at right now to see who the hell was bugging her this morning. You rolled your eyes in frustration when he other line went silent for a short period of time. “Hello?”

You stood up straight and crossed your arms over your chest once more, an annoyed glare settled in your expression from what was going on. The both of you waited a moment until your head looked in the direction of the front door. To your surprise, it opened up. Dr. Visyak stood in the doorway and gestured for the two of you to follow her inside. You noticed right away about how the professor had a taste for art and very precious artifacts she must have collected over the years. She lead you and Dean into her office as she walked over to her desk to grab her drink, thinking for a moment about the name that lead this meeting.

“Bobby Singer. Tell him something for me next time you see him.” Dr. Visyak said. You glanced away from the artwork she had on her fire mantel and in her direction, wondering what it might be. As you were about to examine the pieces again, her request quickly made you look back in a bit of surprise. "Actually, just kick him in the jewels. That's more poetic."

"He has that effect on some people." You said, suddenly becoming curious to know about this relationship between the professor and hunter. "No love lost between you two, huh?"

Dr. Visyak laughed quietly at your question as she leaned against her desk, you noticed how her smile seemed to have been triggered by their very interesting chemistry. “No. Just the opposite. That’s his story to tell. He’s the idiot.” She said. You raised your brow slightly as she gestured an arm to the couch behind you. You and Dean took a seat. “So, what’s this about?”

“Well, dragons.” Dean said. Dr. Visyak pushed herself up to her feet and began walking forward to the both of you. She seemed a bit skeptical about the subject you wanted to discuss. “What, no twelve-sided dice joke?”

“We can joke about them because they’ve disappeared. But they aren’t funny. At all.” Dr. Visyak said. Her tone of voice shifted into a serious one as she took a seat across from the both of you.

“Well, one just flew in stateside.” You told her. Dr. Visyak was still unsure if this could be possible of hearing activity from a creature that had been extinct for centuries. "Fits the lore to a T. Unless you've got something else that explains why a town is missing a handful of virgins and attacked another poor girl for her gold purity ring.”

Dr. Visyak knew herself from the information you gave her alone was enough proof to realize a dragon was the cause of this disaster. However, she couldn’t get over the fact that one would suddenly appear after all this time. “But how? I mean, why?” She wondered. “Its been seven hundred years.”

“Banner crop of crazy all the around these days, doc.” Dean said.

“So you want to know how to kill it?” Dr. Visyak asked. You nodded your head in agreement. It was the reason why you and Dean traveled all night to get here. “Well, you need a blade.”

“Okay.” You said, understanding so far what she was saying. “What kind of blade?”

“One forged with dragon's’ blood.” Dr. VIsyak answered you. You had been listening intently to what she was saying, trying to make sure that you wouldn't miss over any important information. However, it took you a second to fully understand what she just said.

"Wait, wait." You chuckled as you backtracked slightly to try and understand what the professor just told you. "You need one to kill one, but you gotta kill one to make one. I'm sorry, but how does that work?"

“There aren’t many dragon swords around anymore. Five or six tops, worldwide. There’s the sword of St. George and of course Excalibur and—” Dr. Visyak started to go on about all of these sword for a moment. You noted how much she knew about these things. Her lips curled into a smile as she lifted the glass she was drinking back to her mouth. "Well, I sure as hell better. I have one in the basement."

“You do?” Dean asked, sounding surprised at what he was hearing. You looked over at the man for a moment, the both of you shared a look of astonishment from how easy something rare as a sword forged in dragon’s blood was to find. Dr. Visyak pushed herself to her feet and told the /both of you to follow behind her to the basement where the sword was collecting dust.

“Finding it took two decades, countless hours and some really bad sex with an Eastern European ambassador, but, yeah.” Dr. Visyak told the both of you the tale of how she managed to track down one of the most rarest things in her personal collection. A smile began to spread across your lips from what you were about to see, and not to mention, work with.

The professor lead the two of you downstairs and into the basement where a pair of double doors kept you from the very thing that would slay the beast. She opened up the doors and flicked on a light, your eyes went directly to across the room where you noticed a rather large boulder sat in the middle. You looked up to see the famous sword was stuck inside. You couldn’t help yourself but doubt at what you were seeing as you let out a laugh of excitement.

"That is not real. Is that real?" You quickly stopped in your tracks and looked back to the professor, suddenly wondering if she was pulling your leg. Dr. Visyak took your accusation with a bit of offense as she crossed her arms over her chest. "Is it Excalibur?"

"No. This is the sword of Bruncvik." Dr. Visyak said, speaking the name with an accent as she smiled. You looked back to the sword as Dean approached the rock. "Love of my life."

“So, uh,” Dean examined the boulder as he tried to figure out a way to get this sword out from the very thing keeping it in place. “What’s with the cement shoe?”

"You know, binding sword to stone. Used to be all the rage. To protect them." Dr. Visyak explained. Dean didn't realize the ball and chain was used to protect the powerful sword from the wrong hands. The professor laughed at the man's enthusiasm. "Oh, come on. You know this one. We need a brave knight who's willing to step up and kill the beast."

“Right.” Dean said. You crossed your arms over chest again and felt a smirk spread across your lips from what he was thinking about doing. You raised your brow in amusement at the idea Dean was planning out. He wasn't exactly honorable knight, but he was brave in your eyes. And he was willing to put his life on the line to slay this dragon. He began circling around the boulder once more. “All right, well, I’ll give it a whirl. Do you mind?”

Dr. Visyak was more than happy to oblige as she gestured out an arm, wanting to see this sight unfold for herself. The two of you watched as Dean stepped forward and placed one foot steady on the boulder to give him some leverage and wrapped his hand tightly around the sword. You expected this to go easy. Dean was born for this kind of role. However, despite saving countless lives over the years and even stopping the apocalypse itself, it might take some extra elbow grease to get this sword out of this damn rock.

Dean wasn't weak by any means. His first attempt at pulling out the sword was a weak one at that, wondering what he was dealing with. It seemed the sucker was really wedged in there. So, he attempted again, deciding to try a little harder. But...nothing. Dean grunted in frustration and looked over his shoulder to see you and Dr. Visyak staring at him, wondering how progress was going. You gave him a smile as you patiently waited. Dean turned back to the sword and decided to place both hands on the handle, when he made sure he got a good grip, he pulled hard as he could. Only this time, he felt himself lose his footing and went falling to the ground after failing, yet again.

You let out a sigh as you closed your eyes for a moment as Dr. Visyak politely averted her gaze away for a moment and slightly scratched the back of her neck in second hand embarrassment from what she just witnessed. “You okay, Dean?” You asked  out of concern, refraining yourself from wondering if he might need a hand.

“Never better.” Dean promised you. You would begged to differ.

Dean managed to pushed himself back up to his feet as he scalded up the boulder and back to that damn sword. He wasn’t the type to give up so easily, either. Dean decided that enough was enough. He put both feet on each side of the boulder and got a white knuckle grip on the sword. You moved around slightly to get a good look at the strange faces that he was making while he attempted to get the sword out. He grunted and pulled hard as he could, but that sword was staying where it was. You covered your mouth slightly as you found yourself becoming a little too amused at the sight of him struggling.

"Oh, son of a bitch.” He grunted. “That's really on there."

"Yeah, afraid so." Dr. Visyak said. Dean admitted defeat when he lost his footing on the boulder and stumbled backwards slightly. He managed to catch his footing as he stepped back to try and figure out what to do. Before anyone could notice, he wiped away the thin amount of sweat he worked up while trying to get the sword out. You thought to yourself for a moment about what you could do. A big rock with the prize inside. Maybe none of you were the brave knight for the sword. But you sure as hell weren't going to give up this easily. You were smarter than a rock.

“Well, I have another idea.” You suggested. Dr. Visyak looked in your direction and wondered what it might be. Your lips stretched into a forced smile from the usual plan you were about to offer up. "You're not gonna like it."  

This sword made of dragon's blood was the very life's work of Dr. Visyak. It took her countless decades to hunt and track down. She was more than willing to lend it over to the both of you if you could get it out of the boulder in one piece. However, the sword was stuck in there, there was no way in hell you or Dean could get it out. And you found no other way to slay this dragon that was becoming a uncisence. You wanted to take some leftover supplies from the time Sam, Bobby and Cas used to take down a shady medical supplies company that tried to spread the croatoan virus in some flu vaccine. It was the works of Pestilence and from the apocalypse that you had to deal with once upon a time. Now you wanted to use it to blow up a rock.

Dr. Visyak thought you were joking at first. She didn’t think you would do something that absurd. However, when you and Dean arrived back to the basement with a duffel bag full of supplies, she realized that you weren't pulling her leg You had every intention to do whatever it took to free that sword. She was more concerned about the damage than saving lives.

“You know what? I don’t like this at all.” Dr. Visyak said. She stepped in front of the both of you, making you stop in your tracks. You rolled your eyes from her attempts at stopping you. “You do realize that this is the single most valuable artifact you have ever touched?”

"It's also the only weapon we have." You argued with her. Dr. Visyak still wasn't jumping on board with the idea. "Look, we know what we're doing, okay? I actually learned it all from Bobby. Whatever happened there, you know he's at least a genius at this. And not to mention, we've got lives at stake here. Do you want us to kill that dragon or not?"

All it took was a bit of guilt before Dr. Visyak rolled her eyes in frustration when he agreed to the plan at the mention of the poor women. She stepped out of the way, allowing you and Dean to go to work on the new plan. Dean dropped the duffel bag down to the ground and crouched down so he was now at level with the boulder. He pulled out a brick of the C4 and grew a smirk.

“You rocks think you’re so smart.” Dean mocked the intimate object.

You figured out the right spots to make this plan work right, Dean put the bricks in the spot where you told him so. Fifteen minutes later after some planning, the both of you had everything hooked up. You let out a sigh as you said a silent prayer, hoping this would work in your favor. Dean got all the wiring together and began to slowly unravel it as he walked backwards to the doorway where Dr. Visyak nervously stood, watching the two of you with a close eye.

“All right.” You mumbled. “Welcome to the twenty-first century.”

You patted the rock for good luck before heading back to the doorway with Dean so the both of you were a safe distance from what was about to unfold. Dr. Visyak seemed even more nervous when you shut the doors after everything was in place and she couldn't go back. The both of you stood back as Dean held the contraption in one hand and steadied the other with the doors so they wouldn't fling open.

You held your breath as Dean gave a reassuring smile to Dr. Visyak before he pressed his thumb against the button, erupting a loud explosion to come from the other room. The professor flinched as the doors opened slightly before being pressed back down from Dean’s weight. The three of you waited a few seconds to let the smoke clear before opening the doors to see what the damage was. When they were finally opened, you wanted to see the outcome of your big plan to see if it was a fail you were expecting to see.

You coughed when you accidentally breathed in the debris of smoke and rock particles as you ventured deeper into the basement again. When you saw the rock was broken into pieces from where you put the bricks, a smile spread across your lips at your achievement. You thought you were in the clear as you began walking over to the sword, wanting to be the one to pull it out and continue this moment of victory. When you pulled the sword out of the boulder, you were expecting it to feel more...heavy. And it should have. Only when you placed the sword in the air, your face dropped slightly when you realized why it was so light—because you were only holding half of it.

“Oh, crap.” You muttered to yourself. You nervously swallowed as you turned around to show the result of your great plan to Dean and Dr. Visyak. If you thought you were devastated, the professor looked like she was about to faint at the sight of her most precious artifact. Your lips stretched into a smile as you tried to think of the silver lining. "You've got insurance for this, right?"

+ + +

The results you brought back to show Sam weren't exactly what you wanted, but it was what the three of you were going to have to work with. You and Dean arrived back in Oregon the next day after doing yet another drive back. While you were exhausted and wanted to sleep, you knew the hunt wasn’t over just yet. Sam seemed a little bit disappointed when you told him the plan you had as he examined the sword for himself.

“What are we supposed to do with this, Y/N?” Sam asked. “Give it a booster shot?”

"I should've grabbed the other half and duct taped it together. It's not ideal, I know. But it's what we got. We'll just have to get closer. That's all." You said, trying to think of a plan that was the most logical after you accidentally screwed things up. You reached out and grabbed the sword from his grip to put it somewhere safe. "Now, where are we on the caves?"

“Nowhere. Sewers, on the other hand. Here, check this out.” Sam said. You looked down at the map lying on the table and placed your hands on your hips to examine the work the younger Winchester put in while you and Dean were gone. “So two of the disappearances happened within a mile of here. So I figure we start there, work our way around.”

“Great. Who doesn’t love sewers? And I thought things couldn't get anymore crappier." You said, rolling your eyes from how your night was working out. "Let's go."

You and Dean began working on getting the supplies you might need to face a dragon and rescue a few missing women. Dean grabbed the sword and moved across the room to put it back into the duffel bag. You looked over to see that Sam was eerily silent with a look on his face that made you worry. Right now you couldn't wonder what was suddenly bothering him, when you spoke his name, Sam snapped out of it, pretending like everything was fine.

+ + +

You hated the sewers and whatever sort of monster decided to live here. It was disgusting, smelled of foul things you couldn't get out of your clothes and it was never ending. Not to mention the tight spaces you were forced to crawl through. You kept your complaints to a minimum and breathed through your mouth when the smells hit places inside you that made you involentarly gag. You had searched through what felt like the entire sewer system of Oregon, but you knew you only made a small dent in this place. Wherever the hell this dragon was, he sure knew how to pick a good hiding spot for him and all his virgins.

“Oh, God. Just when I get used to a smell, I hit a new flavor.” Dean said. You ignored the man’s complaints best as you could as you followed behind him down the cement staircase to another part of the sewer that looked like other miles you walked through. There was no sign of a human being or a bat like creature. The three of you were alone. “Dude, we have been here for hours. There is nothing. I think the lore is off. Hey, what if dragons like nice hotels?”

You scoffed at his way of thinking, knowing that it would never be a possibility for you. Monsters liked to hide in creepy houses and nasty sewers. You looked around to see anything out of the ordinary while Dean went on about how there was a lack of progress. When you peeked into a narrow hallway, your flashlight reflected off something. You furrowed your brow as you moved slightly to take notice of a big clue. A very expensive one, from the sight of it, too.

It took only a second of you gaping at the pile of gold jewelry for the boys to notice and Dean to quickly act upon the sight. He didn’t waste a second before he was crouched down to the pile and took a few pieces in his grip to examine, pretending to make sure it was the real deal. You knew you and the boys were getting closer to finding this son of a bitch and, hopefully, those poor girls.

“Okay,” Dean agreed. “Maybe there are dragons here.”

"Wait, Dean, not now." Sam said, stopping his brother from trying to grab some of the gold like you knew he wanted to do. The younger Winchester noticed something far more peculiar ahead for the three of you to examine. "Check this out."

Sam headed up first to take a closer look at his discovery as you were about to follow behind, only you looked over at Dean, wondering what was taking him so long. You let out a sigh as you rolled your eyes for what felt like the hundredth time in the past day alone. Dean decided to pocket a few handful of the stuff to weigh down his pockets. Shaking your head, you quickly caught up with Sam to see what he found. While it wasn't quite as glamorous as a pile full of gold objects, it was another step in the right direction.

Several lit candles were scattered around along with a few odd ends, what caught your attention was a mysterious looking book. You stepped forward and outstretched your free hand to grab ahold of the book. You quickly noticed right away the binding felt to be of leather. It seemed the dragon you were hunting wasn’t doing some light reading.

“A little arts-and-crafty for a giant bat, right?” You asked. You grimaced slightly at how weird the book felt, wondering what the hell it was made out of. As you nodded your head to Dean to put it into the duffel bag, your attention was quickly pulled away to an unfamiliar voice.

“Hello? Is someone there?”

The echoing female voice you heard and the plead for help made you realize that you and the boys were closer than you once expected. The three of you didn't waste a second in figuring out the direction of where the voice was coming from before tracking it down. You and the boys quickly turned the corner and began heading up a small flight of stairs that lead to a narrow bridge across the way. You searched around the place, wondering where the girls were being held. It took one of them to speak up again before you and the boys found them, hidden underneath the grates of the sewer.

“Hey. It’s okay.” You reassured the group of girls as you dropped yourself to the ground. “We’re gonna get you out of here.”

“He’s coming back.” One of them warned you.

You looked over your shoulder to see when exactly that was as Sam grabbed got working when he grabbed a crowbar from the bag. He wedged it between an open spot and began trying to budge the grate open. As you looked back to the progress he was making, you didn’t realize that the dragon would be back so soon. It seemed he wasn’t happy at the sight of you and the boys freeing all his virgins that he meticulously snatched up.

You yelled out Sam's name when your head snapped over to the side when you saw him go flying across the room. You looked to see what you supposed was this dragon, disguised as a man. You quickly reached out to grab the sword and pushed yourself to your feet, leaving Dean to free the woman as you pointed the dagged edge at the monster. You narrowed your eyes on him as you waited for him to try and attack you or Dean.

“Where do you think you’re gonna stick that, princess?” He asked. Your lips stretched into a smirk at your response, “Can’t say. Too many virgin ears.” You waited a moment as your grip around the handle of the sword tightened. WHen you noticed that he was about to make a move, you quickly swung the blade, managing to cut him against this forearm. It seemed even with the sword broken in half, it was still effective from the way the dragon hissed in pain. “Well, I’ll be damned.”

“Where’d you get that?” The dragon asked you, clutching his wounded arm that was starting to bleed from how deep you cut him.

“Comic-con.” You answered. Your eyes glanced down to his wounded arm that he was clutching. The sight of it made your lips stretch into a smirk at seeing this unfold for him. "If you think that booboo hurts, that was just a mild taste."

You thought seeing him with his guard slightly down would have been the perfect opportunity to hit him with the money shot to end this once and for all. You lunged forward and attempted at stabbing him, but your confidence was sorely mistaken. The dragon took his good hand to grab you by the arm and yank you backwards, making your grip around the sword become loose, and slip out. You didn’t realize you lost the very thing to kill him before it was out of sight, landing underneath the grates.

You gritted your teeth and attempted to try and defend yourself by punching him with your free arm. But it seemed you were too slow. You felt yourself being roughly tossed backwards, making you land against the concrete and metal grates. It took you a second to regain your  composure as you looked over to him. You quickly looked around for just about anything when you noticed that he was coming forward, and with a glowing orange hand that fit the lore of fire.

Before you could sustain any sort of burns, Sam was back on his feet. He crept up from behind and swung the crowbar to the back of the dragon’s head, making him stumble to the ground. It was the perfect opportunity for you to figure out where the hell that sword went. You quickly peered over the edge as Dean joined you in the search. The both of you stuck your arm into an opening in the grate and tried your hardest to somehow grab ahold of it.

“Come on!” You hissed in frustration.

You were just a few inches shy away from the handle while Dean had it just by his fingertips, but he wasn’t close enough to grab it. You weren't giving up just yet. Dean tried to somehow lean forward so he could reach it better. Before he could make anymore progress, it seemed the dragon had a buddy. You quickly looked over your shoulder to see that another one grabbed Dean by the arm and yanked him into a fight, leaving you alone. You looked to see that the boys were caught up in a fight, leaving you to somehow grab this damn sword.

You always thought quick on your feet. When you looked to the railing and how it was just below where the sword was, you noticed that you might be small enough to fit through and somehow lean over the edge before grabbing it. There was a chance you might fall, but it was a risk you’d have to make. You inhaled a deep breath as you braced yourself for whatever sort of smell you were about to face to face with.

You grimaced as you squeezed yourself between two rusty pipes and leaned over the edge. You slowly shimmied yourself down as you leaned over the edge, getting closer to the sword. When you saw it was just a few feet away from your grip, you outstretched your arm, but you were still a few inches from it. You cursed at your parents for giving you short limbs as you once again began to push yourself lower down so you could finally seek victory. When you finally grabbed ahold of the sword, you quietly cheered in victory before you quickly pushed yourself back up to safety.

When you were back on your feet, you found yourself face to face with the same dragon that you had managed to cut. As if that wasn’t enough to make him realize you weren't playing around. You swiftly took another swing and cut another part of his body, making him back away in pain. When he was at a safe distance, you quickly turned around, going after the one that was about to attack Dean. You lunged the sword right into the other dragon’s back and pulled swiftly out, watching as he dropped to the ground. Before you could give the same treatment to his friend, you suddenly felt a gush of wind. When you turned around, you realized that the dragon was gone, nowhere to be seen.

[Next Part]

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[i-may-have-a-point]

Review of 14x04 “Ain’t That a Kick in the Head”

Sorry for the delay in posting!  Life.   Amelia - I mentioned this last week, but I want to say again how surprised I am that Amelia’s brain tumor story moved so quickly.  I guess her real story this year will be figuring out who she is without this tumor impacting her actions and decisions.  Marlana Hope is a welcome addition to the writing team after seeing how she wrote this particular story in this episode.  Dr. Koracick is arrogant but likable, Amelia’s reactions are realistic, and humor is interjected well for a story about such a tough topic.  April being Amelia’s POA and explaining, “What?  Was I supposed to say no?” added levity to a scene where Amelia said her good-byes to her loved ones.  “In this moment, I love you people tremendously.”  What a perfect line.  The scene transitions to Amelia and her team standing in the superhero pose, and Dr. Koracick speaks for all of us when he whispers, “I love this,” over the stunning instrumental music.  “With surgery, you worry that you won’t wake up.  With brain surgery, you worry that you will wake up, but you won’t be there when you do.”  That is a beautiful way to explain Amelia’s fear.  Who is she without this tumor?  Well, we are about to find out as we watch Dr. Koracick cut her tumor out while singing along to the Beach Boys.  The contrast of the music with the seriousness of the scene could not have been better.  Whoever chose the music for this episode should choose the music for the rest of the season.  After surgery, Amelia being aware of what was happening but not being able to communicate was terrifying to watch but a nice nod to Derek’s death.  I also thought Deluca  was a nice addition to this story.  He never quite found his place in seasons past, but so far, I like him in neuro with Amelia.  The scene where he forced her to sit in the chair because she made him promise to do so was brilliant.  Amelia screaming in her head while collapsed against his chest, weeping, was one of my favorite scenes of the night.

I think Caterina has done an amazing job with this story, but I have to mention my issues with the story as well.  Using a brain tumor to rewrite Amelia’s personality is frustrating to me. I didn’t think her personality was THAT bad, and it’s unrealistic.  My dad passed away from cancer a little over a month ago.  It spread to his brain, and he had his brain tumor removed in April.  His tumor may have been different from the one Amelia has, but brain tumors don’t just make people act a little odd.  They are debilitating.  They affect memory, speech, vision, and motor skills.  They don’t just cause you to make poor life choices..  I  know I have to look past reality to accept this story, and that’s fine because it’s a TV show, but a part of me wishes they hadn’t depicted brain tumors so inaccurately.  

Bailey/Webber/Interns - Some of these scenes were funny, but I know we are all side-eyeing these new interns wondering how they are going to shake up Grey-Sloan Memorial.  Part of me doesn’t want to know.

Megan/Nathan/Meredith - I have been so impressed with how this story has been written.  I was not feeling Griggs last season, mainly because it was written so poorly.  This season has been just the opposite.  This story has been written so well that I want Nathan with both Megan and Meredith.  Not in a sister wives type way.  It’s just that they are all handling an unimaginable situation with maturity and class, and I want a happy ending for all of them.  Megan is incredibly likable.  She is understanding of Nathan moving on, she adopted an orphaned child and raised him in a war zone, and she has been through hell and back.  She deserves happiness.  Meredith has been understanding of Nathan’s history with Megan, she helped him bring Farouk to Megan, and she also has been through hell and back.  She deserves happiness.  I am genuinely interested to see how this story plays out.  I still assume Meredith will get the man in the end because she is Meredith, but if they keep writing this story this well, I will stay invested for as long as they want.  (Side note:  I like the parallel between Meredith telling Megan that she kidnapped her own daughter and then Meredith helping Nathan, in a way, kidnap Farouk.)

Catherine/Webber/Jackson/Koracick - I laughed out loud when Koracick said he wanted to make sure Jackson wasn’t his and Jackson said, “Nope,” and walked away.  I’m not entirely sure what the point of adding in the Koracick/Catherine connection was, but it was a funny little moment.

Jo/Alex - Either Jo is going to decide to put her name on the article despite her husband possibly finding her, or I think he will be at the Harper Avery awards.  He feels like a shadow closing in on Jolex.  We are all just waiting for him to step out of the darkness.  But what a refreshing switch it is to see Alex be her rock as opposed to last season when she feared Paul alone.  This is a more realistic portrayal of their relationship and who Alex is.

April/Arizona/Alex/Mer/Maggie scene - I like scenes like this.  I always have.  I think this particular scene is another way the writers are taking jabs at the terrible stories of last season.  Alex says, “I just wish I had a tumor to blame my stupid crap on,” and they proceed to yell out stories from last season that we could have done without. As if wishing all of them could be explained away by tumors.  “Deluca, I’m sorry I hit you. Tumor.” “Riggs. Tumor.” “Minnick!”  It was a subtle jab at the ridiculous writing of season 13.  Thanks Marlana.

Jackson/April/Maggie - After watching this week’s episode, I stand by what I said last week.  Jackson and April are both going to have individual journeys (for the most part) this season, but they will find their way back to each other.  I expect some of you to call me delusional or say I am wrong, but I only write what I see.  The first time we see Jackson and Maggie interact, she comments on his suit only to quickly realize he was at a funeral.  Again, I saw no flirting there.  And after she awkwardly walked away, Jackson very noticeably adjusted Alex’s collar.  I’m not sure how the writers/directors/show could send a more intentional message to the audience than that.  Jackson and Alex don’t touch.  That two second gesture was put in there in response to Maggie fixing Jackson’s collar.  Because that is what colleagues/friends do.  It doesn’t mean that Jackson wants to drag Alex to an on-call room, and it didn’t mean that for Maggie either.  Yes, they are intentionally toying with the audience by throwing stuff like that in there, but so many people are taking the bait and crazy tweeting about it, so why wouldn’t they?  That moment leads into Jackson’s talk with Meredith about the Harper Avery award, further supporting my thoughts from last week that Jackson will spend a good deal of the season figuring out what it means for him to be an Avery.  He is visibly annoyed that he cannot be considered for an award since he is a great surgeon and deserves recognition.  

It was nice to see more of Webbery’s home.  How many of us have forgiven Catherine Avery all her sins after the way she seemed annoyed at Maggie’s very presence at their dinner?  We feel that on a spiritual level, Catherine. When Jackson walked in, he said, “Oh. Hey,” the way I greet acquaintances.  Again, nothing.  He looked a little surprised to see her maybe, but that’s about it.  And the couple of times he smiled at her in the episode did not scream romantic feeling to me.  She is his step-sister and friend.  He should smile at her.  It would be weird if he didn’t.  He smiled at Meredith the exact same way before stealing her chips.  Awkward, boring scenes aside, I think the main point of these scenes was for the audience to know how much money Jackson inherited.  The discussion centered around the money and what he should do with it.  I suspect we will see something come of Jackson inheriting this money.  This was brought up for a reason.  

The scene that I think most people were so angered by was when Jackson said, “I appreciate you,” to Maggie.  Guys.  Come on.  If that was supposed to be a “moment” it would be the most lackluster romantic scene in the history of Grey’s   I appreciate you?  I appreciate the guy with one tooth who held the door open for me this morning.  I appreciate when my waitress refills my drink.  I appreciate when someone lets me merge on the interstate.  However, I have absolutely no romantic interest in any of these people.  That was not a Grey’s line that starts a romance.  Grey’s starts a romance by two people being drawn together in a bar, spending the night together, and then finding out he is her new boss.  Or two people connecting over their mutual understanding of what it means to lose the love of your life.  Or two people understanding that having demons in their past (drugs, ptsd) does mean you are unlovable.  Or two people who were beaten and broken down and told they were nothing can rise out of their circumstances.  Or best friends turning into soul mates who only need “me and you” to make it.  Epic love stories on Grey’s don’t begin with “I appreciate you.”  

Were they thinking about it?  Yes.  April planted the idea in their heads, and they had to at least consider what the other was thinking or feeling.  But, once again, the writers called them family in this episode.  Catherine called Maggie his sister.  SISTER.  Last week, Harper called April his wife.  WIFE.  The writers are feeding us crumbs, and that is damn annoying, but no matter how little we are getting, there is a big difference between being called the sister and the wife when it comes to Grey’s writing.

Seeing April in the chapel just feels right.  And I love that Marlana covered all aspects of who April is - religious, a fiercely loving mother, funny, and someone who feels things deeply.  April is such a complex, well-developed character. Hearing April pray “Please don’t make me have to unplug her,” was both funny and true to her character.  She wants Amelia to survive, but she has the strength to do what she needs to if it comes down to it.  We also saw that April is continuing to evaluate her life, what she wants, what makes her happy, and where she goes from here, just like last week.  Arizona seemed to be talking April into dating or having “new grown-up fun,” but I think most of that was just Arizona speaking for her own experience.  April may or may not date this season as part of her journey, but if she does, I don’t think it will be anytime soon.  She is focused on herself right now, as she should be.  Like she said, she doesn’t want a new normal.  Right now, she is surviving and that is the best she can do.  There was a quick line in the scene where they were all drinking coffee outside that caught my attention and may be insignificant, but I think it is another example of the introspection and reflection April is doing.  Meredith commented on how Riggs packed his bags and left to which April responds,  “Riggs panicked.  People panic.”  n that line, I heard April relating to Riggs because she packed her bags and left once, too.  That’s just one more part of her past that must be on her mind lately. And the chapel scene.  How is it that Sarah Drew can have a ten second scene where she says two words, and it is breathtaking? When April is unsure, hurting, or troubled, she turns to God.  But here, she went for a different reason.  April is thankful.  And not just that Amelia survived.  Despite all the hurt and heartache in her life, April is thankful.  And that just makes me love her even more.

I know many of you are angry and even jumping ship, but my feet are still planted firmly on the deck at this point.  Japril has a long journey, which is frustrating, but it’s only because they can have a story like this and remain one of the most popular couples on the show.  They have had two scenes together in six months, yet Grey’s posts are full of fans talking about Japril on every form of social media.  They are strong enough to get a story like this, and I hesitantly say, the writers this season are strong enough to make this into an amazing story.  

[eirenical]

Brick Club ‘17 – Chapters 1.1.1-1.1.5; I admire a man with chutzpah.

(...jfc, if you had any idea how much trouble this post gave me. *glares at tumblr*  I HAD TO REWRITE IT FOUR TIMES and between times 3 and 4, Kaspersky randomly decided that Firefox shouldn’t load any websites.  ANY.  NOT EVEN GOOGLE.  ARGH.  But I’m OK, now, and I’m going to retype this again for the (HOPEFULLY) last time.)

The first thing I have to say about these chapters is that I absolutely adore the Bishop.  Anyone who follows me knows that Courfeyrac is my absolute favorite of favorites in all of Les Mis, but Feuilly and the Bishop tie for second place.  And this is the reason why: The Bishop is a classic representation of what it is to have chutzpah.  

Merriam-Webster defines chutzpah as “supreme self-confidence: nerve, gall” and that’s part of it, and is what it’s come to mean in English usage, but that’s not the whole truth.  I’m going to borrow something now from an article on chabad.org by Tzvi Freeman:

So what is chutzpah? It’s a kind of acosmic attitude, as though there’s nothing really there stopping you from doing whatever you want.

That’s why chutzpah can be real bad and chutzpah can be real good. Bad chutzpah is something we all know about. But good chutzpah is one of the first rules of behavior cited in the Shulchan Aruch—the classic codification of Jewish Law. Citing the words of the Mishnah, “Be fierce as a leopard,” the code tells us that this means that when you go about doing all those Jewish things that Jews do, you shouldn’t feel the slightest embarrassment before those who ridicule you. You don’t have to call them names, you don’t have to react at all. Just keep on doing what you have to do as though they don’t exist. […]

So, to be a good Jew, you need two opposites: A sense of shame that prevents you from acting with chutzpah to do the wrong thing, and a sense of chutzpah that prevents you from being ashamed to do the right thing.

The Bishop is very clearly not a Jew, but this is such a Jewish thing that he does: unashamedly doing the right thing, in spite of ridicule, standing up to people who look down at him from on high and not only assuming equality, but daring to encourage them to use his behavior as an example do better.  He is who he is, he knows what is the right thing to do, and he’s just going to go about his business and do it, no matter what you think.  That is chutzpah, and that is my Bishop.

And now, below the cut, I will give you some of my more specific thoughts on each chapter. ��^_^

I’m not going to go over each of these chapters in much detail, because, to be honest, it’s too much and I could probably spend 20 pages babbling, and I don’t think anyone wants that.  So, I’ve tried to stick with picking one (or two) thing(s) in each chapter to talk about to avoid making this ridiculously long.

1.1.1

The thing that always strikes me out of this chapter is that I desperately want the story of Myriel before he became a priest.  Because that transformation from well-born, well-to-do, charming and yet somewhat debauched man to the Bishop we know in Digne?  That fascinates me.  In there lies a story just as complex and interesting as Valjean’s own and I want to hear it.  I want to know more about this man who gleefully looked Napoleon in the eye and punned at him.  I want to know more.  I would gladly read another 1200 page novel on him.  And that’s honestly my biggest problem with Les Mis in a nutshell.  Even the minor, minor background characters are so richly created that I want to know more about them.  It’s a problem.

[Side note: I forgot how frustrating Hapgood’s handling of puns is.  She misses just about every one.  Or maybe the way she translated them just doesn’t translate into modern English, but, either way, it’s super frustrating.  I can FEEL the lead-up to the pun (Hugo sets them all up pretty obviously, especially for the Bishop’s puns) and then where the joke would be it just… falls flat.  :P  I found myself rifling through my FMA and my Donougher to see if they were handled any better there, and @pilferingapples, I gotta say, I’m tempted to flop over to Donougher every time there’s a pun because she did a MUCH better job with the few I checked.  Did you find the same?]

Anyway, the other thing I need to mention about 1.1.1 is this: Myriel is “advanced in years and living in a very retired manner.”  His sister, Baptistine, who is 10 YEARS HIS JUNIOR, is “an elderly spinster????”  And let’s not forget this hot mess:

Mademoiselle Baptistine was a long, pale, thin, gentle creature; she realized the ideal expressed by the word “respectable”; for it seems that a woman must needs be a mother in order to be venerable. She had never been pretty; her whole life, which had been nothing but a succession of holy deeds, had finally conferred upon her a sort of pallor and transparency; and as she advanced in years she had acquired what may be called the beauty of goodness. What had been leanness in her youth had become transparency in her maturity; and this diaphaneity allowed the angel to be seen. She was a soul rather than a virgin. Her person seemed made of a shadow; there was hardly sufficient body to provide for sex; a little matter enclosing a light; large eyes forever drooping;— a mere pretext for a soul’s remaining on the earth.

Hugo, Victor. Les Miserables (Xist Classics) (Kindle Locations 483-489). Signet. Kindle Edition.

Hugo… NO.  WHAT ARE YOU DOING.  PLEASE, STOP.  JUST… STOP.  OTZ

(That being said, “diaphaneity” is a pretty great word.  Did you make that one up, Hapgood?  I may have to find an excuse to use that.  ;D)

1.1.2

“Hold, Monsieur the director of the hospital, I will tell you something. There is evidently a mistake here. There are thirty-six of you, in five or six small rooms. There are three of us here, and we have room for sixty. There is some mistake, I tell you; you have my house, and I have yours. Give me back my house; you are at home here.”

Hugo, Victor. Les Miserables (Xist Classics) (Kindle Locations 519-522). Signet. Kindle Edition.

CHUTZPAH.  XD

But, no, the thing I really want to talk about is this:

NOTE ON THE REGULATION OF MY HOUSEHOLD EXPENSES. For the little seminary … … … … . . 1,500 livres Society of the mission … … … … . . 100 “ For the Lazarists of Montdidier … … … . 100 “ Seminary for foreign missions in Paris … … 200 “ Congregation of the Holy Spirit … … … . 150 “ Religious establishments of the Holy Land … . . 100 “ Charitable maternity societies … … … . 300 “ Extra, for that of Arles … … … … . 50 “ Work for the amelioration of prisons … … . 400 “ Work for the relief and delivery of prisoners … 500 “ To liberate fathers of families incarcerated for debt 1,000 “ Addition to the salary of the poor teachers of the diocese … … … 2,000 “ Public granary of the Hautes-Alpes … … . . 100 “ Congregation of the ladies of D——, of Manosque, and of Sisteron, for the gratuitous instruction of poor girls … … … … … … . . 1,500 “ For the poor … … … … … … . 6,000 “ My personal expenses … … … … … 1,000 “ Total … … … … … … . . 15,000 “

Hugo, Victor. Les Miserables (Xist Classics) (Kindle Locations 526-541). Signet. Kindle Edition

EXPENSES OF CARRIAGE AND CIRCUIT. For furnishing meat soup to the patients in the hospital. 1,500 livres For the maternity charitable society of Aix … … . 250 “ For the maternity charitable society of Draguignan … 250 “ For foundlings … … … … … … … 500 “ For orphans … … … … … … … . 500 “ ——- Total … … … … … … … . . 3,000 “

Hugo, Victor. Les Miserables (Xist Classics) (Kindle Locations 568-573). Signet. Kindle Edition..

The thing that strikes me about this bit on the household expenses is how absolutely clearly Hugo saw that society had to be improved from the bottom up.  I mean, just LOOK at some of these stuff!  Education of the poor, education of women, straight up money to just give to the poor, women, and orphans, proper nutrition for the sick, prison reform, returning the wage earner to families whose wage earners were in debtor’s prison.  I mean, LOOK AT THAT.  Can you imagine how much it would improve the life of the working class if we had bishops across the world doing this?  Taking government money and applying it where it will actually do the most good?  Hugo had some revolutionary ideas; that’s fact.  But, the idea that even the poorest among us, even those who have committed crimes, deserve mercy and a basic living wage?   That’s an idea that’s still revolutionary TODAY.  And it makes me angry… and sad.  We should be doing better.  We NEED to do better.

1.1.3

Good gravy, the bit about the donkey.  XD  CHUTZPAH, AGAIN.  See?  This is why I love the Bishop.  ^_^

Anyway, another thing that struck me in this chapter was how the Bishop teaches mostly by examples and models.  We literally just had a huge class discussion in my doctoral program about that the other day.  A good example, or a good model, is worth more than any amount of polished or wordy language.  It’s yet another case of a picture being worth 1000 words.  Hugo, via the Bishop, being ahead of his time, yet again.

1.1.4

I am NOT getting into the capital punishment discussion.  I’m just not up for that tonight.  :P

So, instead, here’s a discussion of mishandled puns and translation fails.

Madame Magloire liked to call him Your Grace [Votre Grandeur]. One day he rose from his arm-chair, and went to his library in search of a book. This book was on one of the upper shelves. As the bishop was rather short of stature, he could not reach it. "Madame Magloire," said he, "fetch me a chair. My greatness [grandeur] does not reach as far as that shelf."

Hugo, Victor. Les Misérables (English language) (Kindle Locations 442-444). Public Domain Books. Kindle Edition.

This is honestly one of my favorite puns in the whole book.  It’s such a dad joke.  ^_^  Unfortunately, in Hapgood’s translation, it falls a little flat.  It’s clear what the joke is in French (the play on grandeur) thanks to the [notes], but in English it doesn’t entirely work.  The fact that I have to rely on the original French to get the joke leaves me feeling like she could have done a better job on that.  So, just for shits and giggles, I checked Donougher to see what she did with it.  She seemed to do a better job at translating the pun:

Madame Magloire liked to call him ‘Your Highness’. One day he rose from his armchair and went to his bookcase to fetch a book. This book was on one of the top shelves. As the bishop was rather small in stature he could not reach it. ‘Madame Magloire,’ he said, ‘bring me a chair. My Highness falls short of that shelf.’

Hugo, Victor. The Wretched (Clothbound Classics) (p. 13). Penguin Books Ltd. Kindle Edition.

It may not be an exact word-for-word translation, but I feel like it captures the spirit of the pun just a bit better.  So, kudos to you, Donougher.  Point in your favor.

Here’s the other translation gaffe:

"I am thinking," replied the Bishop, "of a singular remark, which is to be found, I believe, in St. Augustine,—'Place your hopes in the man from whom you do not inherit.'"

Hugo, Victor. Les Misérables (English language) (Kindle Locations 451-452). Public Domain Books. Kindle Edition.

vs.

‘I’m thinking,’ replied the bishop, ‘of something curious to be found, I believe, in St Augustine: “Place your hope in him who has no successor.” ’

Hugo, Victor. The Wretched (Clothbound Classics) (p. 14). Penguin Books Ltd. Kindle Edition.

And FMA translates it even differently than that but I think made it sound even more like he’s referencing G-d?  When I climb out from under my cat, I’ll double check that, but the point stands--Hapgood’s translation is clearly talking about a person and Donougher’s is talking about G-d.  I’m, ironically, more likely to trust Donougher’s translation there just because it sounds much more like something the Bishop would say and because the set-up feels like the lead-in to a pun and Donougher is clearly better at handling those.

Now, that being said, I have no idea which of these interpretations is actually more correct.  My French is DEFINITELY not at the level of translating Hugo puns.  But for anyone with better French who may wish to take a stab at it...

—Je songe, dit l'évêque, à quelque chose de singulier qui est, je crois, dans saint Augustin: «Mettez votre espérance dans celui auquel on ne succède point.»

Hugo, Victor. Les misérables Tome I Fantine (French Edition) (Kindle Locations 255-256).  . Kindle Edition.

It doesn’t LOOK like there’s a pun hiding in that French, but again... not an expert by any stretch.  :P

1.1.5

(IN THE HOME STRETCH.)

I... actually have nothing to say about this chapter?  Other than that I’m picturing this little Bishop running about town, attracting a mini-parade everywhere he goes with little children cavorting around him and it’s the most precious thing.  ^____^

OK, one last translation amusement because it’s directly related:

Here and there he halted, accosted the little boys and girls, and smiled upon the mothers.

Hugo, Victor. Les Miserables (p. 28). HarperCollins Canada. Kindle Edition.

vs.

He would stop here and there, talk to the little boys and girls and smile at their mothers.

Hugo, Victor. The Wretched (Clothbound Classics) (p. 20). Penguin Books Ltd. Kindle Edition.

But this is the best part, because my French is good enough for this, I think:

Çà et là, il s'arrêtait, parlait aux petits garçons et aux petites filles et souriait aux mères.

Hugo, Victor. Les misérables Tome I Fantine (French Edition) (Kindle Locations 381-382).  . Kindle Edition.

“PARLAIT” IS PRETTY CLEAR, HAPGOOD, WHAT WERE YOU THINKING? XD 

Although, to be fair, I’m pretty sure she meant the type of “accosted” where like... adults make monster faces and “chase” the little kids around until the kids turn the tables and chase them.  And the idea of the Bishop doing that is SUCH a perfect image to close this week’s reading on that I think I’ll forgive it, this once.  ^_~

Tune in next week for chapters 1.1.6-1.1.10!