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freedomscall-aa · 4 years ago

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DRAGON AGE II

THE CITY OF CHAINS, ACT I

Fleeing from the Grey Wardens following his allowance of Justice into his body and the bloody events that took place immediately afterwards, Anders takes refuge within the walls of Kirkwall among the hundreds of other Ferelden refugees who now call the city home after the yearlong Blight laid waste to townships and smaller hamlets. He establishes a small clinic in the filth and crime ridden under city, Darktown, where he offers his talents as a healer near free of charge to suffering, displaced families and individuals. Through rumors his prior association with the Grey Wardens and the maps he carried with him eventually becomes a topic of interest to a fellow Ferelden and their growing gang of misfits.

This verse takes place during the events of the game's first act and thus encompasses Anders' first encounter with Hawke, the death of Karl, the trek into the Deep Roads, etc. The default state of this verse leans towards a friendship path with Hawke, but will be adjusted as needed.

THE CITY OF CHAINS, ACT II

Three years out from the Dark Roads expedition Anders has found his connections to the now wealthy Hawke and their associates something akin to a gift from the Maker himself in various ways. Life is now somewhat easier with the support of those in the group he considers himself friends with, though the mage's personality is forever changed by the death of Karl all those years ago. Over time he has developed a propensity to further isolate himself when not following the call of Hawke and has been known to display forms of increasingly paranoid behavior by those he comes into close contact with. Despite this, Anders further commits himself to tending to refugees when not out and about with Hawke. In turn, he trusts their loyalty to protect knowledge of his whereabouts from Templars who've caught wind of his activities. Their protection is a small blessing in and of itself, as Justice's, now Vengeance's, strength has further manifested itself with his body-- Anders now finding it increasingly difficult to control himself from causing harm when face to face with those within the Templar Order. Overly sympathetic to the the plight of the mages imprisoned within the Kirkwall's Circle now more than ever, the blond has begun to dedicate himself to pursuing a feat he once considered madness before his merger with Justice-- the separation of the Circle from the Chantry. In-between his time spent with patients within the clinic and Hawke's adventures, Anders begins writing the first draft of what would become his manifesto and finds himself becoming involved in a small resistance group of like minded apostates to help ferry runaway mages out of the city.

This verse encompasses the whole of act two and the three prior mentioned years following Hawke's expedition in the Deep Roads. The default state for this verse assumes Anders begins the act on a full friendship path with a Hawke that has flirted with him, then after Leandra’s death said Hawke quickly swings towards a semi-rival in the later half, leaving Anders heartbroken. In this verse Anders is ultimately able to regain control of himself from Vengeance to prevent the death of the female mage in his companion quest, Dissent.

THE CITY OF CHAINS, ACT III

Another three years pass, the time spent with the mage finding himself at constant odds with himself. His inner struggles with Vengeance are a day to day activity, Anders for a period of time devoid of all interest in the plight of his fellow mage due to seeing himself as nothing but an abomination after almost losing himself completely to Vengeance's urge to kill a young mage some years ago. He has become further withdrawn with his attempts to regain control over the spirit inhabiting his body, a battle that he will ultimately lose in the end. As a consequence of this fight of control he has further developed traits that reflect the current state of his mentality-- prone to increasingly wild mood swings ranging from fits of melancholy to purely manic phases of determination to channeling his bitingly vicious anger at whoever is unfortunate enough to be at the opposite end of his staff during his excursions with Hawke and company. To further this issue, he has begun to suffer lapses in memory when not out with the Champion; often finding himself in locations he has no recollection of traveling to and regularly discovering he is missing large gaps of time out of his day to day activities. To those who he considers himself closest to it is obvious that he's begun planning something, though what and if it is Anders himself in control of the process is unknown.

This verse features Anders at his worse, markedly mentally ill with no feasible way out of act three's inevitable conclusion. His relationships with Hawke and the rest of the gang are heavily strained and the default state of this verse assumes him to be a full rival path with a Hawke who, despite being heavily traumatized by what happened to their mother, ultimately sides with the Mages. You all know how it ends, so I imagine I don't have to say much more.

DRAGON AGE: INQUISITION

WHAT VENGEANCE HAS WROUGHT

THIS VERSE WILL EVENTUALLY BE REVAMPED TO ADD EASIER INTERATIONS FOR INQUISTION BASED MUSES, BUT MOST OF WHAT IS HERE IS STILL ACCURATE. FOR A SNEAK PEEK REGARDING WHAT I’M PLANNING TO DO, SEE THIS POST.

Hawke should have killed him, is what Anders used to tell himself frequently before finally settling in his guilt--- mind rife in his knowledge that, despite it all, he would do it again in a heartbeat. There were no other options, despite his regrets, the blond’s actions a year later inciting a rebellion the likes of which hasn’t been seen in centuries.

Vengeance is sated, frequently quiet-- leaving the mage with nothing but his own thoughts for the first time in nearly eight years. Yet, in the scant moments where the spirit’s thoughts invade his own they’ve begun to slowly resemble those of the friend he once he had. He is full to the brim with anxieties, abandoned by those he called friends in the wake of his actions in Kirkwall and unwanted by the very mages he sought to free. Once again a lone apostate, or more accurately: a wanted abomination, Anders travels familiar lands following the path of the war his actions served as the catalyst for. Supposed sightings place him all over the world, the blond on the very rarest occasion finding some humor in the fact that he can apparently now be in several locations at once. If only it was so simple all those years ago when he was just a boy trying to get back home to his mother.

These days he finds himself like he did back in Kirkwall before everything came to a head, offering his healing services to refugee camps before moving on lest someone figures out who he really is. It stings, however, when even more non-mages refuse his aid-- perception of mages further tainted by the war. In between camps he lives a rather bare bones existence, sequestering himself away in the forests that dot his path to a place unknown before the Templar army or, worse, the Inquisition can find him-- all the while ignoring the cruelest of siren calls, one he recognizes well from his time with Hawke within an old Grey Warden prison so many years ago.

WHAT LOVE HAS SACRIFICED

IM GONNA REVAMP THIS EVENTUALLY SO LIKE A LOT OF THIS DOESN’T APPLY ANYMORE, SORRY Hawke should have killed him, is what Anders tells himself frequently. Instead, however, they sheltered him-- from Kirkwall, from the Templars, from the world when the results of Vengeance's, of HIS actions boiled over and sparked a war. In fact, Anders could go so far to say that they sacrificed everything they had earned over that decade in Kirkwall for him. He's not sure how they tolerate him these days, awash in guilt as Vengeance whispers in his mind that Hawke is holding them back from joining the Mages’ in their fight against their centuries long oppressors. That Hawke covertly wants to sedate him, control him, lock him away, suffocate him--- The angry insistence of a spirit that is no longer his friend. Anders has worked for years to stifle the spirit's control over him and for once he finally feels as though he's winning, only at the cost of the world and everything else he held dear. His struggle is something Hawke knows, but he is, however, sure they think him insane, which is fair, and still something of a threat regardless of their feelings for him or his claim of control. Anders thinks himself completely mad these days too, especially when Vengeance falls momentarily silent and the blond is left with his own thoughts. Thus, it was no surprise when the day Hawke informed him that they’re leaving came. But what came after, however, was. Not that they’re leaving him, but that instead they’re leaving their makeshift home, together, following the call of an old friend who has seemed to find themselves involved in the Inquisition.

DRAGON AGE: ORIGINS, AWAKENING

VIGIL’S KEEP

twenty nine year old man loves a tiny kitten to death, the verse u//c, obviously

KINLOCH HOLD

actual baby twenty-something has to pretend that everything is okay after losing his bf for almost another decade all while silently plotting his next and greatest escape before getting chucked into solitary for a year. u//c, obviously

GREY WARDEN // UNPOSSESSED

A purely self indulgent verse to explore the what ifs if Anders had never ran away from the Grey Wardens. By default this verse assumes that by not merging with Justice, Kristoff's body eventually was unable to function and Anders instead helped him return to the Fade, despite how he would have otherwise been willing to go through with other plans if not for Rolan's presence when the moment finally came. I'm willing to adjust this verse's default assumption of what happens to Justice as needed to other character's verses where they instead become the spirit's host.

This verse extends through the same period of time as Dragon Age 2 onwards and certain events in it might put him in Kirkwall or Inquisition locations at various points in time. In this situation, Anders ultimately avoided possession by his friend, a spirit of Justice--- the blond finding himself unwilling to go through with such a thing while both mage and spirit were under then constant watch of a former Templar that was allowed into the Order shortly after the Warden Commander had moved on. Hesitant and suspicious of the fact that both of them were constantly given the same assignments with said former Templar by the Orlesian Wardens who outranked him ( and made him give up his cat ), Anders eventually sensed something was up. Mind rife with paranoia, he eventually deduced that Rolan was just waiting for him to make some small tiny mistake to justify outright killing him and, by extension, such a thing would also allow the Senior Wardens to wash their hands of the former apostate.

Without melding himself with Justice, many of Anders' budding issues that the spirit would have otherwise taken issue to and attempt to correct only continued to grow through the years; the mage becoming something close to a functional alcoholic with a promiscuous streak that waxes and wanes in accordance to his moods and, ultimately, mental state. He is still an extremely skilled healer despite this, and, as the years past, has become expected to train both new mage and new non-mage wardens under him in the nuances of quick, messy field chirurgy and intermediate herbalism--- a role that he enjoys far more than he imagined he would.

INQUSITOR // HERALD OF ANDTRASTE

The Maker, if He does exist, certainly has a sense of humor. Or at least, this is what the mage grimly told himself when faced with the reality of the pulsing, agonizing wound upon his palm and the distrusting, angry faces that surrounded him once he woke. He had just wanted to see it, hope in his heart for the moment where the Divine sided with the mages--- wishful thinking for a man who had gone through all that he had. Yet, as with all things in his life: his wants never quite go to plan.

your typical ‘what-if’ verse, u//c

MODERN DAY

A licensed physician with a complicated past, and the mental illnesses to go along with it. Anders thinks he works best under the stress of the emergency department, though a part of him longs to settle into life as the owner of his own private clinic. A mundane man, with only _slightly_ eccentric interests ( an educated man, vaguely interested in the occult? ), who somehow managed to gather ( and keep! ) a gaggle of friends from all walks of life despite how ' depressing ‘ he can become at times.

mass effect? fallout? elder scrolls?

#[ ☄️ | andraste's nickerweasels! ( ooc ) ]

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shroomiething · 5 years ago

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The Beginning of the Beginning

The sickly trail of ailing commoners stretched for acres outside the temple. With tapering marble towers and columns jutting over the edge of the sea, the castle’s walls were an inviting refuge from the fury of the hurricane.

A chilling wind bit through the crowd while curling waves smashed against the rocky beach nearby. The ocean was dark blue and frothing with foam. The storm howled closer, lashing at the sodden villagers as they shuffled in their miserable line. Sea spray doused the trail with every thunderous wave and weighed their dreary robes down; many of the ill were hunched over in exhaustion.

On the far side of the temple was a riot of thrashing bodies. Bricks shattered against the smooth stone walls, and torches blazed furiously in the icy wind. Soldiers in bright steel armor were holding the throng at bay, a wall of shields pressing back from the line of the ill. The screaming rioters hurled foul, outlandish words at the temple wall. Their eerie screeches echoed across the cliffside, a chorus begging for the destruction of what lied within.

“Ghost! Demon!” The frenzied mob roared as they struggled to reach the great oaken doors. “Kill it! Kill the devil!”

Inside the temple, the air was quiet. The echoes of the fight reverberated through the air. The line led into a wide circular chamber. Adorned with tapestries and statues, a trail of steps lead to a grand altar that gleamed with polished marble. Silver and gold etchings flashed in the firelight, faintly visible against the glossy stones.

At the crest of the steps, a young girl knelt on the cold stone floor. Her head was bowed, and her face was obscured by a mane of wild black curls. The crowded line shuffled to the edge of the steps. One by one, the villagers were touched lightly on the forehead by the girl at the altar.

“Captain!” A guard burst through the far end of the line. His ill-fitting armor rattled on his person. Jerkily, he twisted his lopsided helm back into place. Water ran from his gear in rivulets as he approached the dais, his pants echoing through the chamber. “They’ve nearly reached the doors,” He gasped to the oldest guard; a withered codger with a thick velvet cape that brushed the floor. The old man held a tattered wide-brim hat in one hand, and a drawn dagger in the other. As the younger guard spoke, the old man shifted the hat into his other fist.

“We can’t hold them away from the line much longer. They’re after her again.” The guard dropped his voice to a furious hiss as he gestured to the lone girl on the altar. A malevolent glint flashed in his eye as he beheld her; the faint twist in his mouth was akin to a bitter snarl.

Defensively, the old guard snapped, “You think I don’t know that? They’ve come for the bitch before. We can hold them off again.”

“Sir, if I may…” The young guard adjusted the slipping strap of his loose armor. Shuffling his feet in obvious reluctance, he lowered his tone to a quiet whisper. “Is she really worth the trouble? Ever since we captured her, she’s brought us nothing but miserable fights like this. Not only that, but…” He paused. “You know what they say about her.”

The old guard’s teeth flashed with his disgust. The hat in his fist rattled with a peculiar tinkling noise as he swung his fist towards the dais. Sneering, the codger growled, “That ain’t no demon or ghost. You’d have to be a moron to believe these local’s stupid legends. If she was a demon like they said, we’d already be dead, wouldn’t we? We’ve been campaigning with her for years now! And don’t forget about all the money she makes us!” He gave a furious shake of the hat, which procured a quiet chink chink. “You have some balls to come to me and spout this bullshit! After everything I’ve done for you, the life I’ve given you ungrateful brats…” Grinding his jaw, his milky blue eyes narrowed in disgust. “Stop whining and get back out to the line!”

With that, he shoved the other man’s helmet away, sending him stumbling down the steps. The man adjusted his helm once again before scurrying towards the direction of the doors.

The old guard’s shoulders dipped as the heavy door slammed shut. A hefty sigh escaped his cracked lips. He had kidnapped the girl, oh yes he had. Many moons ago it was. He could still see her mother, as fine as silky whiskey with eyes like orbs of gold. He remembered the woman’s dying breaths as he yanked her infant daughter from her arms. Those burning golden eyes, brimming with a thousand curses.

“The gods… will bring you… your fate… I promise.” The seer gasped out. Her mane of curly hair was matted in blood. The old guard sneered down, for what was this but another victory?

He couldn’t be certain of that anymore. Seventeen years later, and he lost a son by the day. The first was to scurvy, of all diseases. He hadn’t been brought overseas soon enough to be treated by his moneypot. The second died on the battlefield, right next to his old man. The third, the fourth, and the fifth, all were taken down by the most avoidable accidents that sent the old man’s head into peril at the mere memory. An infected sore from tripping on a rock. A trip over a wagon that ended in a split skull. Leaning too far over a well and slipping in… How could he have lost his eldest in that ridiculous of manners? The young guard’s words reverberated through his aged brain like the rhythm of a drum. Brings us nothing but trouble… A demon… Ghost…

A commoner climbing the stairs distracted him from his turbulent musingss. On trembling, unsteady legs, the man clambered the rest of the way on his hands and knees. The burly guards closed the line behind him by crossing their spears together.

Turning his attention to the sickly man, the old guard ordered, “Give thanks to our god, Orphgyes, with your honorful and selfless pittance.” An arrogant sneer had plastered across his leathery features as he held aloft the wide-brim hat. Inside the bowl, glittering coins lay nestled in the worn fabric like a king’s shining hoard. The sickly man’s eyes reflected the greed as he reluctantly lowered his fist into the hat. He released a cascade of small copper pennies that glinted in contrast to the blinding gold underneath.

“Dearest Orphgyes, accept my pittance,” The sickly man murmured, a slight snarl bitterly hinting in his throat.

The man knelt in front of the healer. His skin was pale and glistening with sweat. Shaking violently, he lowered himself to a step below the young girl. His lips were blue, and his heavily shadowed eyes were sunken in. The weight of the healer’s gaze seemed to bore into him; he could feel a presence bearing down on him, almost as if two hot rays were burning into his forehead. Barely daring to lift his head, the man forced himself to look into the healer’s eyes.

The girl’s irises were liquid copper, glimmering in the light as metallic tears boiled down her cheeks. Around her eyes were darkened shadows of exhaustion. She was swaying on her knees as groggily as himself; one of her hands suddenly shot to the floor to steady herself. Her other hand trembled as it stretched towards the man. Her fingertips brushed against his forehead.

Like a shock, flickering warmth shot through the man from head to toe. His sunken eyes blinked as his skin brightened. The color returned to his features. Every ache and tremor in his sickly body had vanished; he felt born aknew. With hasty cries of happiness and gratitude, he was pulled from the girl, and the next ailing commoner was thrust forward.

Dark metal casaded in rivulets down the girl’s face as she pressed her hands to the stone beneath her. The world was spinning. Vibrant, hot flashes of color burned in her vision, and her stomach churned as the effort of her healing threatened her with unconsciousness. Blinking rapidly, the girl struggled to recover before the next commoner stumbled up the steps and knelt before her.

The healer clenched her hands to her gut. A wave of nausea rolled through her body, tightening into a knot in her throat. Through agony-dimmed vision, she glimpsed two steel boots stepping in front of her.

The world exploded with a fiery sting. The girl’s head jerked to the side. Violent tearing arced through the muscles in her neck; for several heart-wrenching moments, she thought her bones had snapped. Then the pain ebbed away, replaced with a throbbing across her right temple.

The guard captain had backhanded her across the face.

The healer, swaying and dizzied from the blow, merely gritted her teeth together. This was not the worst injury he had given her; not by far. A backhand to the captured healer was like a mother’s gentle caress. She had withstood the guard’s torment for years now. A simple blow to the head was an expected norm. Focusing her energy, the healer willed the swiftly-forming bruise to fade away.

This is what was expected of her, after all; to take their beatings, and heal the marks away as if it had never happened. But it had. And the entire chamber of clients had just been witness.

The guard captain towered above, his face shiny with perspiration despite the chilly drafts. His shining steel armor had a velvet ribbon tied around the collar of his chest piece. On the velvet ribbon was pinned an elegant royal insignia that was marred with thick stains of red; a spoil of war. His round, distended belly protruded over her. He spat down at the healer, and it jostled with the movement. “Get yourself together. We have hundreds of patrons today. I won’t have you passing out on the job again; you’ve got work to do.”

His demanding words did nothing to soothe the ever-present ache of nausea in her gut. The healer stared back, willing the bile in her stomach to rise in defiance. I’d like to see that snide look on your face when I pass out again, she thought. Who’s going to make your money then?

“But sir- shouldn’t you close the line?”

A helmless guard-a girl with dark black hair- had approached the altar.

“The riot’s getting worse,” She continued. With a sidelong stare at the curly haired bundle on the floor, she added, “And I don’t think our healer can take much more, anyways. She looks ill.”

The nausea in the healer’s stomach twisted with dismay. From the way she darted her gaze between the healer and the captain, along with the fact she had no recollection of this stranger’s face, this was a new recruit. She obviously thought she was doing the healer a favor by standing up to the captain. This foolish, foolish girl! Didn’t she realize how sorely the healer would be punished for this? She wasn’t allowed sympathy.

And as expected, the other guards chuckled with humorless laughter.

“The girl’s been at this job since she was six,” A red-bearded guard scoffed. He had been part of the caravan for as long as she could remember. From the day she had met him, he had scorned, beat, and otherwise abused her with a hatred born from a religious upbringing. His yellow teeth bit the air as he gruesomely smiled. “If she couldn’t handle one long night, we would’ve sold her off years ago.”

“There’s nothing to worry about, lady,” Smirked the guard captain. His milky blue eyes traced a perverted path down the new recruit’s body.

The dark haired girl’s lip curled. “So, you mean to tell me she doesn’t look like she’ll pass out on the spot.”

All eyes turned to the healer on the altar, who wished the floor would open up and send her body to the depths of hell. She wished this recruit-whoever this troublesome, clueless girl was- would shut her mouth and let her be. If she passed out, so be it. Now that the attention had been drawn to her fatigue, she had no doubt that she would continue to serve until she really had collapsed from exhaustion.

“She’s fine,” The red bearded guard asserted.

“She has words of her own,” Retorted the recruit. Without a pause, she turned to the altar, her eyebrows raised with an atypical authority. “How are you feeling?” She demanded, storming forward until the altar girl felt the need to shrink away. “Do you need a break?”

She would’ve loved to lie, if only to prolong the secret punishment she was certain to receive later. Even now, she could see guards’ jaws clenching, see the grips on their cruel whips tightening. She opened her mouth to deliver the lie.

Only in that instant, a small voice; a familiar, meddlesome whisper, mused in her mind that if she were to play into her fatigue, some miracle may happen. This new recruit would protect her. That’s nonsense, argued the other voice of her mind. Surely the other guards would turn up in the dead of night.

Lie, said her mind.

Tell the truth! Insisted the voice.

And she opened her mouth to speak. But before she could, a devastating crash echoed through the chambers, so loud and violent that it rattled her teeth. BOOM. An icy wind whistled through the castle in it’s wake.

“What the…” murmured the guards among themselves.

The guard captain’s eyes darkened as he stated the obvious. “The riot must’ve broken through.”

She had no idea, at the time, what this would mean for her. All she knew was that the guards were in trouble. And this, inspired by the new recruit’s savage disdain, sent her heart pounding with excitement. Something big was happening. Something was changing.

“Get her out of here,” Growled the guard captain, fumbling with his sword and sheath.

The new recruit reached her first. “Get up,” she snapped, but the sharpness of her voice was overridden with worry. Feeling as light as a feather, the healer shot to her feet.

But as she did so, the world spun around her once again. Nausea swept over. The blackness in her vision was building, darkening the world around her until all she could see was the faintest glint of the fires. The blood roaring in her ears drowned out every other noise. She was slipping.

There was a thundering in her head, pounding like the beat of a drum. What was that noise? Dimly, she left the cold ground lift away from her, and she could just register hands under her shoulders and legs. Someone had picked her up.

“Take her behind those gates!” A voice, shouting with panic, was painfully loud in her ears.

The howling of the mob grew closer until it was echoing within the temple itself. The roaring throng was pouring into the chambers like a flood, bricks smashing against the stone, and the thudding of feet drawing closer and closer. The riot burst through the oaken doors into the healing chamber, and the guards yelled and rushed to the entrance, the temple deteriorating into a frantic war zone. The healing girl heard the commotion from a distance, as if she were floating in empty space, observing the scene through a cloud of shadows.

The healer blinked once, and the world vanished.

She lay nestled in the shadows of a boulder. The scent of sweet lily flowers and moss drifted in the air. Underneath, the ground was spongy and moist, and a chill had crept into her bones. The sky was a deep blue that was partially hidden by the rock jutting overhead; she could just make it out through the tree branches above. Swaths of green forest and undergrowth surrounded her. As she raised her head, the sun spilled out from behind a white cloud above. It sent dazzling rays across the stream that whispered gently several feet away.

A girl had appeared from behind the boulder as she opened her eyes.

“You’re awake!” The stranger rushed over to the healer. It took a moment to recognize her outside of the temple; she was missing the plated armor, red tunic, and black bandana that was the signature uniform of the guards. It was the new recruit. Dimly, she remembered resting in strong arms, and she guessed that it had been her. Where had she taken her? And why?

The recruit had long, straight black locks, and now wore a simple tunic of blueish-grey and black design. Her eyes were piercing blue, and she had the resemblance of a mountain dryad; that is, she looked as if she were descended from the mysterious mountain spirits that lived in distant kingdoms. She had an elegant steel longsword hanging from her belt.

The girl outstretched her hand and touched the healer on the forehead. No stranger to medical practices, she noted that she was checking for a fever. The healing girl lay quietly, studying the other girl’s face and the faint dots of freckles on her nose. Her clothing was clean and stitched with great skill. The fabric was soft and silky, a delicate garment that could not be found anywhere near the provinces where the healer lived. The recruit was from far away.

“I dragged you away from the riot,” The girl with blue eyes explained as she lifted a wooden canteen. “Don’t worry. The mercs won’t find us; it was dark when I ran into the forest with you. I’m not even sure where we are now.”

The healer sat up and took the cup from her gratefully. She sipped the water. It sang with strange earthy flavors and was cool on her tongue. Her aching skull gave her trouble to recall the temple and the guards. It seemed like a dream; there was no bell alerting her awake this morning. There was no banging on her chamber door, no calloused hands jerking her free of the blanket. Here she was, in the forest, something she hadn’t been allowed to view since she was a little girl.

She… she saved me from them.

“T-thank you.” Heart in her throat, the healer stumbled over her words. “I can’t tell you how much I owe you. I… I thought I’d never get away.” She gave a dry laugh.

The other girl tucked a long black strand of hair behind her ear. She studied the healer with her intense blue eyes; the healer shuffled her feet, aware that she was disheveled from the way her hair pressed to one side and the dirt and grime caught on her clothes. The other girl’s piercing gaze made her long for a thorough bath and clean, fitting clothing. Of course, the guards hadn’t allowed her that luxury, either.

“Yeah, well…” the recruit’s voice drooped, and she had to lean closer to hear her words. “It wasn’t entirely charity.” Her piercing blue eyes seemed shadowed despite the sunlight. As if fate, a cloud drifted over their camp.

“What do you mean?” The healer’s mind whirled.

The other girl glanced away quickly. She was passing a coin between her hands; a large, flat plate that was the size of her palm. The girl rubbed the metal thoughtfully, as if considering her words. “Have you heard of the Valitroths?”

Even in her isolated temple, the healer had heard legend of the ancient wilds far away, a land where men defended the natural kingdom on the mightiest beasts in their world. The stories said that the dragon riders, the Valitroths, slaughtered any human who dared to venture into the wilds. They were a revered legend; a myth to keep mischievous children from getting lost in the woods. The healer said, “I’ve heard stories. The Valitroths guard the forest, right? And they kill anyone they find trespassing.”

The strange girl met her gaze with her white-blue eyes that bored almost painfully into her vision. “We spent the night in the trees. No dragons came to kill us.”

The healer shifted uncomfortably. “I never said I believed any of it.” This was a lie; the healer had always believed the myths, and even now, and uncomfortable chill of foreboding had crept down her spine at the mention of the Valitroths.

The girl smirked and said, “Then you’ll never believe what I’m about to show you.” She flipped the coin towards her in an elegant arc. The healer caught the metal plate. It was thick, yet light, and tiny grooves were carved into the surface, indistinguishable in the shadows of the boulder overhead. The healer held it out above the stream. She turned the coin in the light to reveal faint mystic inscriptions etched into the metal; it glimmered under the sun.

“This is a veil coin,” The other girl told her. “It’s the currency of the sanctum. You have to pay to get in, which is why I was told to bring this for you.”

The healer stared at her, mind in a vortex of confusion. What was this girl offering her? “What are you saying? Could you be a little more clear? I don’t… I’m bad at riddles.”

“It’s no riddle,” The dark haired girl sighed with exasperation weighing in her tone. “I’m in training to be a Valiroth. I was chosen from Oros Thequoias, eight months ago. I got a veil coin just like this. The Valitroths know who you are, too. They want you in their society.”

The girl’s offer was beyond incomprehensible. Join the Valitroths? This girl was claiming to be part of the nightmare of the wilds; the very reason traveling was outlawed. She boldly admitted that she hailed from Oros Thequoias, a a mere fable as well; the land was supposedly covered in mountainous trees that stretched taller than the highest winter ice clouds. This was a lie. This was a dream. Surely.

“That’s impossible.”

The dark haired girl raised an arched eyebrow. “Your eyes fill with liquid metal and you can heal any injury with a touch. Yet you think tall trees and big lizards are impossible?”

Her jaw seemed to lock. “Well, when you put it that way…” The healer felt silly; this girl was offering her the chance of a lifetime! The Valitroths knew her. The Valitroths had been watching her. She wasn’t a fool; she knew from the moment she had first healed that she was special. Special enough, even, to be part of the most legendary society to exist.

She couldn’t pretend she hadn’t spent most of her evenings gazing out the temple windows, watching the green forest sway in the wind and debating whether she should take the plunge and vanish into the treeline forever. Even the myths of the Valitroths, gruesome tales of bloodshed and gore, hadn’t deterred her dreams of flight. In fact, she’d often imagined herself as one of them; she daydreamed about becoming stronger than her guards, more skilled, more deadly. She’d dreamed of cutting them down with effortless joy and flying away on the back of a mighty beast. The stories of the Valitroths didn’t frighten her, they only intrigued her.

The more she considered it, the more she wondered why she cared about the towns in the first place. They’d shown her nothing but cruelty. They already thought she was a demon in disguise, assuming her healing to be ‘ghost powers’ or witchcraft. They treated her like a nightmare; given the chance, any one of them wouldn’t hesitate to kill her on sight. The healer gripped the coin tighter in her hand. “I don’t know if it’s all true or not, but I want to come with you.”

The other girl jumped with sudden excitement and exclaimed, “That’s great! I wasn’t looking forward to making the trip alone,” she added with a sudden shadow across her gaze. Her eyes gleamed as she added with a grin, “I realized I don’t even know your name! Mine’s Sira. Sira Kiaenithrius.” She extended her hand.

“Kalensul.” She delicately gripped the other girl’s hand. “Just Kalensul.”

#dark #dark fantasy #dark fairytale #original story #original character #oc #mine #my story #my edit #fantasy #fairytale #knights #story #oc story #fanfic

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hovercraft79 · 6 years ago

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One Thing Leads To Another

What starts as an ordinary day at a Witches Conference turns into a slumber party with Julie Hubble and three little witches - and Hecate Hardbroom may never be quite the same.

1st in the Hecate’s Summer Playlist Series

Words: 8,911

Rating: General/Teen

Title comes from a song by The Fixx

Chapter 1

Hecate Hardbroom was not enjoying herself. Her back ached from sitting in a plastic chair at a plastic table all afternoon, and her face had been forced into a fake smile for so long that her teeth were beginning to itch. Mentally, she comforted herself by thinking up as many creative ways as possible to torture her publisher. She was up to 297 – no, an image of the man sitting in the polar bear exhibit of the London Zoo, slathered in walrus blubber, blossomed in her mind. 298, then. She pushed a book back to its delighted owner. She still didn’t see why she had to endure these horrid book signings.

Another copy of Potion Making for Advanced Witches landed with a thud in front of her. A breathless voice asked, “Can you make it out to Pernilla?” She smiled thinly and began writing her standard Inscription #3 inside the cover. She didn’t understand why presenting her new book at the Traditional Witching Conference wasn’t sufficient marketing for her publisher. Her seminars were always well attended and well received. Her previous two books sold well enough. Another book was presented, for Jessamyn this time. Hecate scarcely looked up before beginning Inscription #4.

Her face hurt. No one was meant to smile this much – save Pippa, perhaps. But Pippa was, well, Pippa. Smiling had always been her default expression. A genuine smile ghosted across Hecate’s features until the next book was pressed upon her and her aching fingers began Inscription #5, to Elanora.

At least she had only one more of these dreadful book signings to do, and then the rest of the summer break would be blissfully free. She couldn’t wait to return to Cackle’s and disappear into her private quarters, her empty potions lab and the quiet afternoon teas with Ada. She craved the peacefulness that fell over the castle once the students departed – especially one particular student with long brown plaits and a penchant for mischief.

“I really liked your presentation, Miss Hardbroom.”

Hecate’s head shot up, her frozen smile replaced by slack-jawed surprise. “Mildred Hub-ble?” Her eyes flickered back and forth between Mildred’s hopeful face and the wary, protective expression on her mother’s. “Miss…er…Ms. Hubble?” Too late, she remembered her manners and lifted her hand to her forehead. “Well met.”

“Good afternoon, Miss Hardbroom.” Julie Hubble placed a hand on Mildred’s shoulder. “Millie here’s been on and on about the lecture you were giving at this conference all summer long. Coming to hear it was the only thing she wanted for her birthday.”

Hecate could see her own look of disbelief reflected on Julie Hubble’s face.

“Will you sign my book, Miss Hardbroom?” Mildred pushed the book across the table. “Please?”

Hecate looked at Mildred’s hopeful gaze staring at her from across the table, then down at the book in front of her, trying to process what was happening. Never, ever, had one of her current students attended one of her lectures – and for it to be Mildred Hubble, of all people? Her lips quirked into a faint smile. Of course, it would be Mildred Hubble. A warm feeling fluttered in her chest, growing stronger by the second, like a hand-laid ceremonial fire being coaxed into flame. Suddenly, she realized that she very much wanted to sign Mildred’s book. She flipped the book open and picked up her pen before she realized that she had no idea what she wanted to say. She must have stared at the blank page for longer than she realized because, when she looked up, Mildred was trying to hide her disappointment and Julie Hubble looked like a storm cloud about to spew lightning. “I can’t sign it. Not right now.” She tensed for the reaction, knowing she hadn’t said that right. She wasn’t disappointed.

“Now you see here, Miss High and-”

“Mum!” Mildred looked stricken. “It’s okay.”

“It most certainly is not! You paid for your book just like everybody else!” Her voice was getting louder, causing Hecate no small amount of panic.

“Miss Hubble! I…uh…” She leaned around them until she could see the next few people in line. “I’m so sorry, but, if you could just excuse me for a few moments…” She grabbed Mildred’s book and motioned for them to follow. She directed them around a corner, hopefully out of earshot if she couldn’t keep Ms. Hubble from shouting.

“I don’t know what you’re playing at,” Julie hissed.

“Please,” Hecate held her hands up. “Of course, I’m going to sign it,” she watched Mildred’s mother visibly relax, if only a bit. “I just don’t want to write the same things I write in all of those strangers’ books. I…I need time to think so I can do it properly.” She looked at Julie Hubble, who still looked somewhat cross. “I want to do it properly.” Ms. Hubble huffed out a breath, blowing a bit of hair out of her eyes while she regarded Hecate. After a moment she gave a curt nod. Hecate didn’t expect the rush of relief she felt. “Mildred,” she said, leaning down so she’d be at eye-level. “I would be honored to sign your book. May I take it with me so I can take my time? It is for your birthday, after all. It wouldn’t do for me to do a rush job. I’ll return it to you tomorrow.”

“Oh, but that would be perfect, Miss Hardbroom! Tomorrow is really my birthday. It’s when my party is and everything!”

“Well then, that shall be perfect indeed.” She straightened up and moved to return to her table. A firm grip on her elbow pulled her to a stop.

“Miss Hardbroom,” Julie Hubble stepped closer and lowered her voice so that even Hecate’s sensitive ears had to strain to hear her. “Look, I’m sure you mean well, but please, don’t make a promise to her that you won’t keep.”

Hecate’s eyes widened in shock at the very idea. “I’m not.” She leaned in, “I wouldn’t.”

“Tomorrow.”

Hecate looked down at her hand, now gripped fiercely by Julie Hubble. “Tomorrow. I will bring the book, properly inscribed, to Mildred tomorrow. On her birthday.” She squeezed Ms. Hubble’s hand. “I swear it.”

- - - - - - - - - -

“That’s quite a number of drafts, Hecate.” Ada looked at the dozen or so crumpled pieces of paper scattered across her deputy’s desk. “Perhaps a break and a cup of tea will do you some good?” She waved her hand and a full tea set appeared in its usual position on a table between two wing chairs in front of the fireplace. “You can tell me all about this project that apparently needs to be perfect. Who knows? Maybe I can help?”

Hecate sighed heavily and leaned back in her chair, stretching some of the stiffness out of her shoulders. Perhaps a break was in order. She pushed herself to her feet and crossed to the fireplace, gratefully accepting a cup of tea. “Mildred Hubble came to my lecture today,” she said, lowering herself into her chair.

“Did she?” Ada covered her smile by taking a sip of her tea, pleased that Julie Hubble had used her tickets after all. “I’m sure that was a…surprise for you.”

“To say the least,” Hecate smirked into her cup. “Apparently, it’s what she wanted for her birthday. I don’t even know how she knew about it.”

“Oh, I may have given Felicity Foxglove an interview about what the teachers get up to in the summer - for her gossip column, you know.” Ada’s blue eyes twinkled at her over the brim of her cup. “You really should read it, Hecate. It’s very informative.” She gestured to Hecate’s desk. “How does Mildred’s attendance at your seminar relate to your current work in progress?”

“She purchased a copy of my book and wishes me to inscribe it.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m finding the task more difficult than I expected.”

“And why do you suppose that is, Hecate?”

“I’m sure you have a theory.”

“Indeed, I do, dear. I believe you are struggling because what you write to Mildred is important. That little girl matters to you, Hecate, whether you care to admit it or not. You certainly matter to her.”

Hecate snorted in disbelief. “I hardly think so.”

Ada slammed her tea cup down with enough force to rattle the rest of the service. “Hecate Hardbroom! That is quite enough!” She took a calming breath. “Now. You know that I love you as if you were my own daughter, but sometimes I swear you are intentionally obtuse.” Hecate opened her mouth to speak, but Ada didn’t give her the chance. “Think for a moment about what it was like when you first came to Cackle’s.”

Hecate frowned. She didn’t like remembering those days at all. Only twenty-one years old, she’d arrived at Cackle’s still mourning her mother’s death from ten years prior, still mourning the loss of her friendship with Pippa and still reliving the terror of her training under Mistress Broomhead… which had only just ended. She’d been alone, frightened and traumatized, barely in control of her own magic at that point, and not all the time. It was Ada who had taken a chance and hired her. Ada who had taken Hecate under her wing, Ada who’d mentored her, Ada who had comforted her when years of repressed emotions had finally burst free. “It’s hardly the same, Ada,” she ground out, voice tight with emotion. “She’s hardly motherless and I like to think that I’m not as…terrible as Miss Broomhead was.” Pain lanced through her stomach. Her greatest, most secret fear was that she was, deep down, exactly like her old teacher.

“You are nothing like her at all, Hecate,” Ada said, as though she could read Hecate’s mind. She placed a hand on her Deputy’s knee. “If you were, you wouldn’t be here. You worry about too many things as it is, dear. Don’t let that be one of them.” She squeezed Hecate’s knee before taking up her tea again, spelling it back to the proper temperature and settling back in her chair. “My point, Hecate, is that, while Mildred’s mother may be alive and well, she’s hardly in a position to help her daughter navigate the magical world. She needs a witch for that and it seems, my dear Deputy, that she has chosen you.” Ada peered at Hecate over the top of her glasses, eyes pinning her in place with their intensity. “I do hope you recognize that for the honor that it is.”

Hecate blinked away the tears that were starting to prickle just behind her eyes. “I do,” she whispered. And I know I need to do better by her, she thought, but instead she said, “It still doesn’t help me figure out the inscription, though.”

“Doesn’t it?” Ada asked. “I believe if you’re simply honest with yourself about your feelings for Mildred Hubble, you’ll find it much easier to be honest with her.”

- - - - - - - - - -

Hecate read through the inscription one last time. It was…satisfactory. She hoped. Glancing at the pocket watch ever-present around her neck, she was surprised to find that it was just after midnight. Rolling her shoulders to ease the stiffness, she pulled Mildred’s book in front of her so she could transfer her draft into the book itself. Pen in hand, she ran her fingers along the cover, still feeling the same rush of pride she’d felt when she’d held her first published book in her hands. Bittersweet, though, as she recalled. She remembered the ache she’d felt when she couldn’t give one to her mother, the only person she’d thought would want one. Then there had been the wholly different sort of ache when Ada, Miss Cackle at the time, had said that she would be honored to have the copy meant for Hecate’s mother. She’d cried the next time she’d entered Ada’s office and found her book, sitting with pride of place on Ada’s coffee table, where it would be one of the first things visitors would see. That had been the first time Hecate had cried in front of another person since Pip – well, in a very long time. Ada hadn’t made a fuss, though. She’d simply handed her a cup of tea and remarked that she couldn’t exactly pin the book up on her refrigerator, so the coffee table would have to do. It was some months later, when she had accompanied the Headmistress to the home of a prospective teacher and seen her refrigerator, covered in her daughter’s artwork, that she finally understood Ada’s meaning.

She shook her head to clear away the memories and took up Mildred’s book again, frowning at the sturdy brown cover. Mildred had purchased the basic edition – suitable for schools and student witches. Not, Hecate decided, suitable for Mildred’s thirteenth birthday present. She pushed the book aside and waved her fingers in the air. Another book materialized in front of her – the Reserve Edition. A surge of pride jolted through her like a hex. This was her book, as it was meant to be, as she’d dreamed of it long before its publication. She ran her fingers lovingly across the cover. The embossed leather cover looked black at first glance, but, when tilted in the light, deep purple undertones shone through, like the iridescent wings of a darkling moth. The title and her name looped across the cover in a metallic pewter ink designed to match her own spidery handwriting. The same dark silver edged the pages. The only spot of color was the silk place holder ribbon stitched into the binding. The deep magenta exactly matched the ribbon that had once held Pippa’s ponytail secure, but for the last thirty-five years had marked Hecate’s place in whatever book she was reading. The ribbon was a feature included in each of her previous books – an homage to the pink witch who, every time Hecate had made corrections in their textbooks, had encouraged her to just write a potions book of her own.

Altogether exquisite, Hecate thought, even if she did say so herself. Morgana hopped onto the desk, headbutting Hecate firmly in the shoulder and glaring balefully at her. “Yes, Morgana, I know. Pride is unbecoming in a witch.” She opened the book and prepared to write the inscription but paused again. The Reserve Editions were prohibitively expensive – only a handful were ever produced. She had a set, and Ada, of course, and a set resided in the library of the Magical Council. And a set resided in the personal bookshelves of one Pippa Pentangle. Hecate had gasped and cracked her favorite teapot with an accidental spurt of magic the first time she’d seen them in the background of a mirror call. Pippa, for her part, had been infuriatingly nonchalant about it. Of course, she’d purchased Hecate’s books, she’d said. Perhaps now that things were better between them, she might even persuade Hecate to sign them.

The memory jolted Hecate back to the present. She needed to get this inscription done. She clicked open the pocket watch and checked the time. The book promised for tomorrow was now due later today. Snapping the watch closed, she held her hands over the book and recited a collection of protective charms, locator spells and durability incantations. After a few moments she was satisfied that the book was as ready for Mildred Hubble as it could ever be. A satisfied smile playing across her lips, Hecate finally settled down to write the inscription.

Chapter 2

Hecate slowly materialized in the hallway outside the Hubble’s apartment. Steeling herself for whatever awaited, she knocked on the door. A moment later it swung open, revealing Julie Hubble, dressed in faded jeans and a hand-dyed purple tunic.

“You came!”

“You needn’t sound so surprised, Ms. Hubble. I said that I would.”

“I know, but…”

Hecate stiffened. “Ms. Hubble, I am aware that you don’t think very highly of me, but I do not make it a habit to lie. And I would never lie to Mildred, certainly not about something like this.”

Julie studied Hecate’s face, gauging her sincerity. After a moment she nodded. “No, I don’t believe you would,” she said softly. “I should have had more faith.”

Something unexpectedly eased in Hecate’s chest. “Perhaps I could have given you more reason to have it.” They appraised each other a moment more before Hecate remembered why she was there. Twisting her fingers in the air, she summoned a small bag, hesitating a second before she pulled out the book and presented it to Mildred’s mother. “I…I didn’t wrap it yet. I expect you’ll want to approve the inscription before Mildred sees it.” Hecate didn’t understand why it suddenly felt as though a colony of bats had taken flight in her stomach. “I know I don’t always say…the right thing.” She pressed the book into Julie’s hands, too uncomfortable to say anything else.

Julie accepted the book, turning it over and frowning. “This isn’t the book Mildred bought yesterday.”

“No,” Hecate replied, staring at the floor, back ramrod straight. Her arms were pressed against her sides, the only movement the anxious rubbing of her thumbs against her fingertips. “I took the liberty of trading Mildred’s student copy for one of the other editions. I have her student book for her as well.”

“It’s beautiful.” She traced her fingers over the flowers embossed onto the cover. “That was very generous of you.” Julie opened the book, but before she began reading she placed a hand over one of Hecate’s, stilling her fingers. “You don’t need to be nervous, Miss Hardbroom. I’m sure you did a fine job.” Hecate pulled her hand free, clutching her pocket watch instead as Julie turned back to the book. She thought she would die when Julie started reading aloud.

Dearest Mildred,

I am honored that you chose to attend my seminar as part of your birthday celebration. I hope that this book helps you learn to be a better potions mistress – and you will learn! Improving your skills in the Craft will certainly make you a better witch, but it is your generosity, your kindness and your fierce determination to do what is right that make you a great one. I’m so very proud of you, Mildred,and lucky indeed that I have the privilege of watching you grow.

With highest regard,

Hecate Hardbroom

Julie read it through twice more to herself before raising her eyes to Hecate’s, heedless of the tears tracking down her cheeks. “I – I hardly know what to say.” She gently closed the cover. “I think you’ve just given Mildred her One Thing.”

“It was okay then?” Hecate asked, furious with herself for her insecurity but needing to know. Julie nodded and she felt her chest unclench a bit more. “I don’t understand what you mean by her One Thing, though. Is that…good?”

“Oh, you know, it’s that one thing you were given as a child that you treasure for the rest of your life.” She handed the book back to Hecate, trying to square up the woman in front of her – a ragged bundle of nerves and insecurity – with the terrifying Deputy Head she’d met at Parents Evening. She felt certain that this one was the real Hecate Hardbroom. “For me, it’s a brooch that belonged to my mother and her mother and so on and so forth. I think for Mildred, it will be this book, from you, that she treasures all her life. And that, Miss Hardbroom, is a very good thing.” She reached out and squeezed Hecate’s triceps.

“I’m glad.” A tremulous smile flickered across her face as she waved her hand over the book, magicking it wrapped in a dark purple paper with a black velvet ribbon. “Please give my regards to Mildred for her birthday.” She handed the gift back and raised her hand to transfer but was stopped short by an iron grip on her wrist.

“Oh, no, madame. You will give this to Mildred yourself. She deserves that much. So do you.” Hecate opened her mouth to argue but stopped when Julie gave her wrist a shake. “I know that you can’t transfer with me holding on unless you take us both. I have no intention of letting go. I’ll hang on until school is back in session if needs be. So,” she smirked at Hecate’s horrified expression, “you can come in, have a cuppa and give Millie her gift or,” she grinned, like a shark about to snatch up a baby seal, “you can transfer us back to your place and ruin Millie’s birthday.”

Hecate narrowed her eyes but couldn’t see a way out of her predicament. “Well,” she huffed, “when you put it that way.” When Julie still didn’t let go, Hecate rolled her eyes and took the gift back. “I promise I will stay.”

“If you insist,” Julie said, winking. She ushered Hecate into the apartment. “Millie! You have company!” She gestured for Hecate to sit at the kitchen table and turned her attention to making tea.

“Is it Enid and Maud?” Mildred raced into the kitchen space, skidding to a stop when she realized who was seated at the table. “Miss Hardbroom!” Mildred beamed. “Are you coming to my party?”

Hecate’s eyebrows practically disappeared into her hairline. Mildred actually looked hopeful. “I’ve brought your gift back.” She placed the package in front of the girl and tried to keep her voice soft. “Your mother said you could go ahead and open it.”

It hardly seemed possible for Mildred to shine any brighter, but, somehow, she did. Rather than sitting in one of the chairs, she scooted over to stand right beside Hecate, well inside what she considered her personal space. “It’s very pretty, Miss Hardbroom.” She reached out and ran a fingertip along the velvety ribbon before slowly untying it and setting it aside. Next, she turned her attention to carefully removing the paper.

Hecate quirked an eyebrow; she’d expected Mildred to rip through the paper. She glanced at Julie to find that Mildred’s mother had clearly expected the same thing.

“Miss Hardbroom!” Mildred gasped when she opened the box. She gazed at the book for several seconds before reverently lifting it out of the box, snatching her fingers away as soon as it was safely on the table. “It…it looks like you. At least, what you’d look like if you were a book.” She looked up at her teacher with absolute adoration. “I’m afraid to touch it, it’s so nice.”

“It’s your book, Mildred Hubble. You are free to touch it as you wish.” She leaned closer to the girl and lowered her voice. “I’ve added a few spells and enchantments to it. It’s not as fragile as you fear.”

Mildred nodded and opened the cover. Hecate held her breath as Mildred read the inscription. When she’d finished, she looked back and forth between Miss Hardbroom and the book several times before flinging her arms around Hecate’s neck. “It’s the bats, Miss Hardbroom,” she whispered, “and so are you. Thank you.”

After a shocked moment Hecate managed to hug the girl back. “Happy birthday, Mildred,” she murmured into her hair, blinking back tears. She felt a reassuring hand on her back.

“The One Thing, Miss Hardbroom. I do believe you’ve gifted Mildred her One Thing.”

Hecate nodded before the contact became too much. She gently removed Mildred’s arms from around her neck. “Why don’t you go put your new book away. You’ve got to get ready for your party.”

“Yes, Miss Hardbroom.” She gathered up her book and raced out of the kitchen.

“Oy,” Julie called after her. “Make sure that room of yours is well and truly clean before the other girls get here.” She placed a cup of tea in front of Hecate and gathered up the discarded wrapping paper, purposely giving Hecate a moment to compose herself.

After a few sips Hecate felt more herself. “Did I hear Mildred say that Maud and Enid are coming to her party?”

“That’s right. Those two, plus Lizzy Fletcher, a girl from her old school. They’re having a sleepover.”

“A sleepover? With three teenage witches?” Hecate set her mug down so fast she nearly spilled her tea. “Surely one of their mothers is also coming to supervise.”

“No, just me. And the witches.” She couldn’t decide whether to be amused or irritated by Hecate’s increasingly horrified look. “It’s fine, Miss Hardbroom. I’ve sorted it already. It’s a non-magical sleepover – a Muggle party. That’s the theme. No magic.”

“M-Muggle?”

“The non-magical people in the Harry Potter books.” Hecate’s blank stare remained. “The theme of the party is no magic. Lizzy’s mum is coming along for most of it. We should be able to handle four little girls.”

“It’s the three little witches that concern me, Miss Hubble. You can’t possibly think you’d be able to handle some sort of magical mishap.”

“You’d do well to remember that it is Ms. And I resent the implication that I don’t know what I’m doing. I’ve been a parent for a while now, you know. I’ve thought this through. That’s why the theme of the party is no magic, so they won’t do magic. It’s also why I’ve made sure to invite Lizzy and her mum, isn’t it? The Witches Code specifically prohibits revealing witches to non-magical people. They can’t use magic without violating the Code. I reckon that’s my insurance that they’ll behave.” Julie’s phone buzzed. She glanced at the caller ID. “Hang on, that’s Lizzy’s mum. I need to take this.” She stepped into the living room.

Hecate sipped her tea and mulled over Julie’s plan to use the Code to enforce behavior. She had to admit, it was rather…brilliant. Her estimation of Julie rose a few notches. She heard Julie’s voice getting louder.

“She’s got what?....Oh, Lydia, that’s too bad….uh huh….uh huh…No, don’t worry at all. I can cover three little girls…” After a few more minutes of chatter, Julie hung up. She stared out the balcony doors for a moment before stomping back into the kitchen and flopping into the chair next to Hecate. “I guess you got the gist of that?”

“It sounds as though you’ve just lost your insurance.”

“So it seems. Still,” she forced a cheerful tone into her voice, “it’s just three little girls.”

“Three little witches,” Hecate corrected.

Julie scowled at her and puffed up to argue, then suddenly deflated. “How much trouble am I in, do you think?”

Hecate shrugged. “I’m sure it’s not too late to cancel the party.”

“Are you daft? The girls are meant to be here in…” She checked her watch, “less than an hour! I can’t do that to Millie! How would you have felt if your parents had cancelled one of your birthday parties last minute?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Hecate said, a rueful grin on her lips. “I never had a birthday party. My family didn’t believe in celebrating frivolous things.”

“Oh, that’s…” she trailed off, unsure what to say, wondering what sort of childhood had produced Hecate Hardbroom. “What should I do? And before you say it, I can’t cancel the party. I mean, they know they aren’t allowed to use their magic tonight. I’m sure they’ll behave.” The look of incredulity on Hecate’s face cut off anything else she might say.

“Ms. Hubble. I’m sure I could fill a book with examples of those three doing things they aren’t allowed to do. In fact,” she tapped a long fingernail on the tabletop, “I may have read you just such a book at the last Parents Evening?”

“You’re not helping.” She slapped her palms against the tabletop, thinking. “Soooo…. You’ve never had a slumber party, then?”

Hecate frowned, not sure of the direction of – OH! “Absolutely not, Ms. Hubble! That would be…no…NO!”

“Mildred’s already asked if you were coming and you didn’t actually say no.” She leaned forward, pulling out the heavy artillery. “You know that Millie will be thrilled…for you to be here…on her birthday.”

Hecate narrowed her eyes. “That’s a low blow, Ms. Hubble.”

“Desperate times, Mistress Hardbroom.”

Hecate tried to muster an argument, something – anything – about school regulations prohibiting such things but she had nothing. In fact, she knew that Ada not only wouldn’t prohibit her participation, but would actually encourage her to ‘take part’ as she was always telling Hecate to do. She sighed. Heavily. “I don’t know what goes on at a …slumber party.”

“It’s as good a time to learn as any.”

“I suppose so, Ms. Hubble.”

“Call me Julie,” she said, holding out a hand. “Welcome to the party.”

“Hecate, then.” She clasped Julie’s outstretched hand. “I’ll just need to mirror Ada and let her know that I’m not returning to Cackle’s tonight.”

“Come on then, you can use the one in my bedroom and I’ll find you something less” she glanced at Hecate’s long, black brocade dress, “witchy to wear.” She stood and pulled Hecate along behind her. “Have you ever been bowling before?”

- - - - - - - - - -

“Let me see if I’m getting this right,” Ada said, seriously. “You want to stay at Ms. Hubble’s and have a sleepover with your little friends? Hmmm… I’ll have to think about that. Have you finished your expense reports?”

“I placed them on your desk this morning. I told you they were ready for your signature.”

“Have you submitted final marks for our permanent records?”

Hecate didn’t understand why Ada was asking if she’d completed tasks that Ada was certainly aware that she had. “You know that I did.”

“Very good.” Ada leaned towards the mirror. “And have you cleaned your room?”

“What?” Behind her Julie failed at stifling a laugh. Hecate spun around to look at the blonde, clearly confused.

“She’s having a go at you, Hecate,” Julie laughed. “She’s teasing you.” She tossed a pair of black leggings and an emerald blouse onto the bed next to the befuddled witch. “She’s making sure you’ve done all your chores before you go play with your friends. Like any good mum would do.”

Hecate spun back to the mirror. This time she recognized the playful glint in Ada’s blue eyes and the barely contained grin. “Very amusing, Headmistress,” she said in a clearly unamused tone.

“I’m sorry, dear, but I couldn’t resist.” Ada leaned forward. “You’re doing a very kind thing for Mildred, Hecate. I hope you’ll also relax and have a pleasant time yourself.”

“I’ll do my best. Then, perhaps when I get back, we can discuss raising my allowance.”

“We’ll see,” Ada clapped her hands together. “Do have a pleasant evening – maybe you’ll even get some sleep. Please tell Mildred ‘happy birthday’ from me.” She reached out to end the call but stopped halfway. “Oh, and Hecate? Don’t let them freeze your bra.” The mirror went blank.

“WHAT?” Hecate whipped around to find Julie laughing too hard to breathe, much less answer.

- - - - - - - - - -

“Sssss!” Hecate hissed and gripped the grab bar over the window as Julie whipped her car around a slower cab, honking for good measure.

“You sound like a snake, HB!”

“So you’ve said, Enid.” How on earth did people do this every day? “I could have transferred us without having to risk life and limb.” She checked her seatbelt buckle for the tenth time.

“It’s a Muggle party, Hecate,” Julie said, slowing down to stop at a traffic signal. “What are the rules for a Muggle party, girls?”

“No magic!” They chorused from the back seat.

“Very good,” she glanced at Hecate as she pulled out into the intersection.

“Ms. Hubble?”

“Yes, Maud?”

“I’m starting to feel like I’m going to be sick.” She leaned her head against the front seat.

Julie looked in the rearview mirror. Maud was definitely a bit green around the gills. “Do you get carsick, sweetheart?” She turned the air conditioning up full blast and directed the vents to blow on Maud. “This should help. We’re almost there, love.”

“But- “

“NO!” Hecate turned around to face the young witch. “Absolutely not, Maud Spellbody. You will not be sick in this car. Do I make myself – “

Hecate was cut off by the sound of retching and wet splattering, immediately followed by the shrieks of Enid and Mildred. She sighed and turned back to Julie. “May I use magic now, Ms. Hubble?”

“Quickly,” she said, rolling her window down.

- - - - - - - - - -

“What do you mean we have to rent shoes? Why on earth would I wear shoes that countless other people have worn?”

“Because that’s how it’s done, Hecate.” Julie rolled her eyes at the horrified expression on Hecate’s face. “Fine then,” she leaned in and whispered, “conjure up your own pair of shoes, then get them on. Here,” she rummaged in her purse a bit, pulling out a pair of athletic socks, which she pressed into Hecate’s hands. “Take these socks and go with the girls to lane 14. Disco bowling starts in about five minutes. It’s easier to see before the blacklights and mirror balls start up.”

“You know I don’t know what any of that means.”

“Just go with the girls and follow Mildred’s lead; she’ll explain what to do.”

Hecate did as she was told, the noise from the bowling alley already giving her a headache. Why had she thought this would be a good idea? She spotted the girls at their lane, Enid and a now recovered Maud looking at everything at once, eyes wide with wonder. “HB!” Mildred was standing on one of the plastic chairs, waving her over. She forced herself to smile and wave. The girl had been far too excited when Julie had explained that Hecate would be joining them for her party. After a few moments of stunned silence (and a bit of teasing by Mildred’s mother), the other girls had gamely accepted Hecate’s presence as part of the party. She was doing her best not to be Miss Hardbroom, but she wasn’t sure she was being very successful. She swept into their lane and set her shoes and socks down. “Get off of that chair, Mildred Hubble.” No, she wasn’t being successful at all.

“Yes, Miss Hardbroom,” she grinned and jumped off the chair. “As soon as you’ve got your shoes on, you can go pick out your ball. The swirly ones glow the best.”

By the time Julie joined them with a tray of drinks and nachos, everyone had their shoes on and a ball picked out. The lights had cut out and been replaced with swirling colored lights, lasers, blacklights and the twinkling of the mirror ball. Dancing Queen, by ABBA, blared over the speakers. Julie sang along as she put her shoes on, then entered their names into the scoring system. Then she showed everyone how to hold the ball and throw it. Mildred went first so the other girls could imitate her. Before Hecate’s turn Julie grabbed her hand and pulled her close so she could talk to her without having to shout over the music.

“Your nails! You’ll want to magic your nails shorter if you can.” She felt a tingle in her hand and looked down to see that Hecate had shortened her nails to just past her fingertips. She wiggled them, eyebrows lifted for approval. “Better,” Julie said, “now go get ‘em, Hardbroom.”

Hecate approached the lane, holding the ball just as Julie had demonstrated and tried to match what she saw the other bowlers doing. She held on to the ball a bit too long and it landed too far down the lane with a thunk. It wobbled down the lane, hanging on to the edge just long enough to knock down one pin before it dropped into the gutter. She heard Enid laughing behind her. “At least I got one in on my first try, Miss Nightshade.” She raised an eyebrow in challenge before looking at the scoreboard and Enid’s zero points. And so, the game progressed, with Hecate and Enid in a vicious battle for second-to-last place. Even Maud seemed to catch on better than either of them, knocking pins down with every throw. Her only mishap being an accidental release of the ball on her backswing in the fourth frame. Hecate’s quick snap of her fingers changed the balls trajectory just enough for her to pluck it out of the air before it damaged anyone. She handed the ball back to Maud and then sat down next to Julie, who handed her a soda. “I hope that was an acceptable use of magic, Ms. Hubble?”

“I’ll allow it, but just this once, Miss Hardbroom.” She laughed and took a sip of her own soda before looking at Hecate. She noticed a tension in her shoulders and around her eyes. She leaned over and spoke in her ear. “Are you okay, Hecate? Mildred’s mentioned that you don’t seem to like crowds or noisy places. Is this too much for you?” She squeezed Hecate’s shoulder.

“It is…a bit much, but I’ll manage. The girls are having a good time.”

“They are,” Julie agreed. “They’ll still have a good time if you were to…I don’t know, cast some kind of spell that might make it a little less noisy in lane 14? Can you do that?” She waited for Hecate to nod. “Then why don’t you do that, love. We’ve got a long night ahead of us; I don’t want to lose you now.” Hecate closed her eyes and whispered a few phrases under her breath. Suddenly the volume of the bowling alley dropped by half. The girls looked around, then at HB, who was now holding her head in her hands while Julie patted her shoulder. After a few seconds Mildred nudged Maud and reminded her that it was her turn.

An hour later Hecate was learning that she liked pepperoni pizza, very much indeed. She was also learning that she rather enjoyed coming in second-to-last, three pins higher than Enid Nightshade. The victory was small, but ‘twas her own. They made sure to put Maud in the front seat for the ride back to the flat.

By six pm, the presents had been opened and the cake devoured. Three little witches, hopped up on sugar and caffeine, whooped and hollered in the tiny living room, chasing one another around the room. Hecate had received another dispensation from Julie and had placed a muffling spell on the apartment. No matter how loud the girls got, the neighbors wouldn’t be disturbed. Hecate, however… Well, she’d snuck a headache potion while she’d been in the lavatory. Julie had asked for one half an hour later.

By seven pm, the girls had painted every available fingernail in the flat – Hecate’s, back to their normal length, had been painted several times in an attempt to replicate a set seen in a YouTube video. Each nail was a different pattern of primary colors. They gave Hecate a start every time she looked down at her hands. Julie sported a much more sedate emerald green. Hecate never imagined that she’d be covetous of emerald green nails.

By eight pm, Hecate had finished her regular mirror chat with Pippa. “I knew you liked Mildred, deep down, Hecate,” she’d said. “You’re doing a wonderful thing for her, and her mother. I can’t wait to hear all about bowling.” A warm flush rose up from her stomach. “Are you managing to enjoy yourself, at least a little bit?” Hecate had surprised them both by saying that she was, actually, having fun. “It reminds me of when we were young, before…” she’d said, feeling her usual feelings of guilt bubble up whenever she thought about their school days and how they ended. “Hiccup. Don’t. There’s no point to it anymore,” she’d said. “We’re here now, as we were meant to be. Besides,” she’d grinned, “I want you to tell me all about your new manicure.”

By nine pm, they were settling into the living room to watch Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone. Everyone had a mug of hot cocoa, save Hecate who insisted on her usual tea. Julie was in the kitchen, popping popcorn while the DVD loaded.

“So, you’ve never seen it either, Mildred?” asked Enid

“No,” Mildred answered, somewhat crossly. “And it’s not fair. I should have seen it ages ago

“Keep that tone up and you won’t see it tonight, either, missy.” Julie handed the girls a large bowl of popcorn and handed a slightly smaller one to Hecate. “What is the rating on that DVD?”

Mildred didn’t even have to look to answer. “PG-13,” she sighed.

“Hm. And…how old did you turn today?”

“Thirteen.”

“Well, then I guess tonight’s the proper night then.” Julie tossed a blanket to Hecate. “Now, budge up, witchlet. Grownups get the sofa.” She pointed to the pile of pillows and blankets on the floor, then settled herself next to Hecate once Mildred was out of the way. “Push play, love.” As the movie started, she leaned over and whispered to Hecate, “if we’re lucky, they’ll be asleep by the end.”

“I have a sleeping draught that will guarantee it,” Hecate whispered back. Julie threw a few pieces of popcorn at her in reply. She couldn’t help the occasional snort that escaped her whenever a particularly ridiculous statement about magic was made. About thirty minutes into the movie they were introduced to Professor Snape, the potions master. Enid leaned over and whispered something to Mildred. She turned around and glanced at HB, then whispered into Maud’s ear. Soon all three girls were whispering and looking. Finally, rolling her eyes, Hecate spoke. “Yes, girls. I can see the similarities.” She tried to sound stern, but the giggles following her statement suggested that she didn’t quite pull it off. “They always seem to make potion makers the bad guy,” she huffed.

“Maybe he’s the bad guy, or maybe,” she grinned at Hecate, “maybe it’s all an act and he’s just misunderstood.”

By midnight the girls were not asleep. Rather, they were playing Dance Dance Revolution, eating more cake and gossiping about schoolmates, teachers and anything else that crossed their minds. Julie and Hecate had removed themselves to Julie’s bedroom – time for the adults to make themselves invisible, Julie said. Hecate sat, cross-legged in a borrowed a t-shirt and cotton pajama bottoms on the bed, playing gin rummy with a similarly clad Julie. Her hair was down and loose and she was feeling abnormally relaxed. They’d talked about Mildred, Hecate’s own struggles to control her magic when she was younger and Julie’s experiences as a nurse. They exchanged tales of unruly patients and unruly witches until they were both laughing so hard tears rolled down their cheeks.

“You know, Hecate, I like you so much better when you aren’t carrying on about all of Mildred’s shortcomings.” She saw Hecate’s entire body stiffen. “Oh, don’t get yourself knotted up. You’re fun, Hecate Hardbroom. I’m glad I’m getting to see this side of you. I’m glad the girls got to see it as well.”

Hecate felt the flush creeping up her neck. “It’s not…easy for me to relax. Pippa was always the only one that could…help me be less serious. Then I ruined that. Ada tries, all the time, but at school I seldom feel I can afford to be…softer.” She plucked at the bedspread. “Frankly, I’m surprised tonight’s gone as well as it has. Normally,l I would have mucked everything up by now.”

“Maybe it’s easier when you don’t have to be the responsible one?” She shrugged. “Maybe my nursing background makes it easier for me to help you remove that broomstick you keep shoved up your arse?”

Hecate chuckled. “I think I like you better when you aren’t lecturing me on the Witch’s Code.” A burst of laughter from the other room interrupted their conversation. “You’ve referred to this gathering as both a sleepover and a slumber party…”

“Yes, well, both those names are terribly inaccurate.” She smiled. “If you need to get some sleep, I can take the first watch.”

Hecate shook her head. “Leave no woman behind. I’m all right. I can always take some Wide-Awake potion if I need to and I have extra if it comes down to it.”

“Surely we can outlast three little witches. We aren’t that old.” She cocked her head. “Has it gotten quiet out there? Maybe they’ve finally settled down?”

Hecate cast out her power, trying to hear better. Suddenly her eyes flew open. “Those little…” She clambered off the bed. “They’ve cast a silencing spell between the living room and your bedroom!”

“What!” She joined Hecate at the door, straining to hear anything. “Sneaking little witchlets.” Hecate reached for the doorknob, ready to go full Hardbroom on them. Julie stilled her with a hand to her wrist.

“Wait, I’m having a bit of a think, here.” An evil smile spread across her face, causing Hecate to quirk an eyebrow. “This could be a valuable teaching moment – don’t mess with your mother or your potions mistress.”

“What did you have in mind?”

“Well, I told you we were meant to be invisible for the girl’s party, but, you really can be invisible. This seems a good time to use that skill.”

“I see. So, you want me to violate your decree of no magic – again – so we can spy on the girls?”

“Do you have a problem with that?”

“Indeed not, Ms. Hubble? I rather live for that.” She held out her arm. “Would you care to join me in the living room?”

“Absolutely,” she said, clutching Hecate’s elbow. She raised her other hand and they slowly dematerialized.

In the living room the girls sat in a circle, the lights dimmed. Enid held a tiny flame in the palm of her hand that she was holding under her chin. “As the clock struck midnight, a scratch-scratch-scratching began at the door.” She scratched the floor with her free hand. “When no one answered, the door FLEW OPEN!”

Hecate and Julie flashed into being. “AND WHO WAS IT?” Hecate shouted. The girls screamed and Julie laughed so hard she could hardly stand upright.

“MOM!” Mildred was practically hyperventilating, but Enid was already giggling.

“Would anyone care to explain the Silencing Spell on the bedroom door?” Hecate straightened and tried to look severe, but the effect was somewhat muted by the hedgehog on her t-shirt. “Well?”

The girls looked at each other, then at Hecate, their mouths hanging open like a trio of codfish. Finally, Maud whispered to Mildred, “Just ask her!” Mildred shook her head so hard Hecate worried she would fall over.

She glanced at Julie, then sighed. “Ask me what?”

“AreyoudatingMissPentangle?” Enid blurted out.

“Wh-what?” Hecate’s face felt like it was on fire. “Why would you ask me that?”

“Girls,” Julie said, placing a calming hand on Hecate’s arm. “HB doesn’t want to talk to you about that and it isn’t really polite to ask.”

“That’s why we spelled the door, Mum.” Mildred looked stricken at the idea she might have hurt Miss Hardbroom’s feelings. “It’s just that… she had to go and mirror her because they always mirror at eight o’clock and…and the ribbon in your book - it’s exactly the same shade of pink as Miss Pentangle’s dress.” She fidgeted with one of her plaits. “I guess we just wondered if it was true… because I sort of hope that it is true. I’m sorry if we’ve made you uncomfortable.”

Hecate concentrated for a moment on just breathing. Julie’s hand still rested on her arm, her thumb now brushing a circle along her bicep. She tried to be angry, but Mildred’s worried expression took the anger right out of her. She was actually a bit proud of how perceptive Mildred had been. “You’re mother’s right. You shouldn’t concern yourself with your teachers’ romantic lives.”

“Yes, Miss Hardbroom,” the girls said in unison.

“But since you did ask,” Hecate continued, “the answer to your question is: I don’t know.” She smiled. It felt good to acknowledge the possibility out loud. “It’s too soon to tell. BUT,” she leaned over them, “We do not need any help in the form of potions or spells or enchantments of any sort. Do I make myself clear?” The girls nodded again. “Good.” She straightened up, taking a deep, calming breath. “Now, if you really want to hear some ghost stories, make room. Julie and I will show you how it’s meant to be done.”

By two am the girls were finally falling asleep, Beauty and the Beast playing in the DVD player now. Hecate and Julie were trying to fit themselves into Julie’s bed, but they were both a bit tall and gangly to be comfortable.

“Good grief, Hecate, you are all knees and elbows, aren’t you?”

Hecate snorted. “Says the woman whose clothes fit me perfectly.” She tried to roll onto her side, but she was too close to the edge and nearly rolled off. “You should have seen me when I was younger – too tall, too skinny. Ungainly. I still feel that way, most of the time.”

“I know what you mean. We turned out all right though, didn’t we? Millie will as well. She is all arms and legs right now, isn’t she?”

“She is at that stage,” Hecate replied, not wanting to offend Julie by offering up just how awkward she thought Mildred was. She needn’t have worried.

“I mean. Have you seen her run, Hecate? She looks like a great git of a spider with those long arms flying out to her sides.”

“Ms. Hubble!” Hecate gasped in mock horror. “How am I ever going to not see that image whenever she’s racing through the castle? I’m meant to be stern then.” She failed to stifle a laugh. “I always pictured a bat, though,” she said, grinning.

“Hmmm, I can see that – the way she flaps those arms when she runs.” She sighed, over dramatically and pulled the blankets up higher. “She’ll grow into her height, though. Just like we did. You actually turned out to be quite graceful.” She ignored the disbelieving noise from the other side of the bed. “Adolescence seems so much kinder to the petite girls, doesn’t it?”

“Indeed.” Hecate tried to bend her knees but she immediately knocked into Julie’s. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to bump.” She shifted carefully onto her back. “By the way, I’m not really used to sharing and I…may have a tendency to sleep diagonally.” Hecate could practically hear Julie’s eyes rolling.

“Brilliant.” Julie flipped her pillow over and fluffed it. “Well, just so you know, the only person I’ve shared with in years is Millie, so… if you find yourself being cuddled, just roll me back over to my side.”

“Lovely. Um, as long as we’re having these midnight confessions, my familiar Morgana has indicated that I may snore.”

“Seriously? Your cat complains about your snoring?” She sighed. “I guess I’ll be rolling you over, then.” An enormous yawn nearly dislocated her jaw. “Oy, Hecate. I’m getting too old to stay up so late.”

“Even as a child I was too old to stay up this late.” Hecate’s voice was beginning to take on a raspy, sleepy timbre. “Julie? May I ask you a rather odd question?” She waited for an answering grunt. “Are we friends, then? I mean, after this weekend? Or do we go back to how we were before? I’m afraid I’m not very good at reading social cues.” She cleared her throat. “It’s a language I’ve never learned to speak properly.”

Julie raised herself onto an elbow and placed the other hand on Hecate’s shoulder. “I very much hope that we are, Hecate. I enjoyed your company today – so much more than I ever thought I would. You care about Millie, you are brilliant fun to be around, when you let yourself be, and…and I trust you to tell me the things I need to know about the magical world. So yes, I intend for us to be friends.”

“Thank you. I’d like that a great deal. I don’t have many friends, I’ve always seemed to be too much myself.”

“Good.” Julie lowered herself back down but kept the one hand on Hecate’s shoulder. “And Hecate? Being yourself is all I’d ask for you to be. How else can we teach the girls that they should be proud to be themselves if we can’t do the same? And, if you ever need a… a translator for some social cue, I’m more than happy to help.”

“Thank you, Julie. I shall endeavor to do the same for Mildred in the witching world.” Maybe, she thought, after this weekend Mildred would be more likely to ask her help when she didn’t understand things.

‘I’d appreciate that.” She reached over and turned the lamp off, shuffling under the covers until she found a comfortable position that only barely touched Hecate’s leg. “Since we’re friends now, why don’t you come over sometime next week to watch the next Harry Potter movie?”

“I’d like that,” she mumbled, enjoying the warmth the invitation started blooming in her chest.

“And why don’t you invite Pippa Pentangle while you’re at it?”

Hecate’s eyes popped open. Suddenly she wasn’t quite as sleepy as she thought. A wide grin slowly spread across her face. “I think I’d like that as well.”

#the worst witch 2017 #Hecate Hardbroom #Julie Hubble is alive at the end #hicsqueak #hecate's summer playlist

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hallelujuh · 6 years ago

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shay’s favorite tv shows from 2017

this has been in my drafts for.... nine months.... fuck.

Written in December 2017, updates are from September 2018.

Considering how many new, innovative shows are around these days, I didn’t get too adventurous this year, but I’m satisfied with the ones I did watch. I discovered new shows, I was impressed by the shows I’ve been following for years, and I learned to appreciate the work that goes into television more. Here’s my top ten TV shows..

10. Thirteen Reasons Why - In all honestly, this is only here because I haven’t been able to watch Peaky Blinders yet, and it’s probably too late. (UPDATE: Watched it in Jan and it was amazing.) This show received a lot of backlash, and for good reason, although it had its moments. The characters were well-written, the relationships were given depth that is often lacking in other high school-set narratives, and the tone was great. I’ve always loved watching things that make me profoundly sad, and this show did just that. (UPDATE: Season 2 was fucking garbage lmao.)

Standout episode: Tape 1, Side B. It’s a cripplingly depressing show, but this episode stood out as a moment of light in Hannah’s dark reality. Her friendship with Jessica and Alex was nice in the beginning - their banter, them having a spot in the coffee shop. I remember assuming Alex was gay (I believe his actor is, so I wasn’t too off) and thinking that’d be good for Hannah, to have a guy friend who wasn’t interested in her and wouldn’t add relationship drama to her life. Boy, was I wrong. Still, having seen the show at the beginning of the year, this episode is the only one I remember as enjoying, so it gets this spot.

9. A Series of Unfortunate Events - I read the books in elementary school, and they’re one of my favorite series of all time. I’m also a huge fan of the film, though I know most aren’t. So I was very excited for this series, and it didn’t completely disappoint. While I found myself longing for the actors from the 2004 motion picture, and some of the directing decisions weren’t choice, it was cool to see The Miserable Mill finally come to life, and I loved the Baudelaires just as much here as anyone else. I’ll be tuning in to next season, since I’ve very, very excited to see how they handle the next three books. I can’t wait to meet the Quagmire triplets, and Esme, and Jacques! It’ll be awesome. I hope they portray it well, but there’s no film to compare it to from here on out, so maybe it’ll be different.

Standout episode: The Reptile Room: Part One/Two. Like I said, I wasn’t a huge fan of how most of the characters were portrayed in this adaption, but I did love Uncle Monty. He was just as wonderful as he was in the film and books. Watching his interactions with the kids was really nice, and as always, made me wish they could’ve remained with him. Stephano wasn’t as menacing here as he is in the film (that knife scene is the point in the film where you go, “woah, this dude’s for real. he’s scary”), which was a bummer because I still thought Olaf was a laughably bad and incompetent villain by the finale, but I did like Poe’s hysteria, and I really loved the movie theatre scene.

8. Riverdale - Oops I never wrote this dfdsbfjdbfjds.

7. South Park - While we all can agree the last season was a mess, and this one was only a slight improvement, it did have it’s moments. I’ve been a fan for five years now, so at this point, they’ll never disappoint me, tbfh.

Standout episode: Doubling Down. While Put it Down was wonderful, both satirically and because of Craig and Tweek’s adorable relationship, the eighth episode of the season was my personal favorite (UPDATE: Not sure why ‘cause I didn’t specify then and I’m not sure now.)

6. Dear White People - I didn’t do this one either damn.

Standout Episode: Chapter V. While the show is a comedic take on racial relations, this episode is an emotional, serious change. The Barry Jenkins-directed episode shows us that the subject is no laughing matter, and it very clearly deserves this spot.

5. Rick and Morty - Yet another show I discovered this year, during the summer. I’d been meaning to watch it for ages, and I finally got around to it. While the fanbase is pretty much poison, the show is pretty damn good. Maybe not what it’s hyped up to be, but great none-the-less. I’m a big fan of adult cartoons, and RaM isn’t entirely satirical like South Park, and it’s not self-aware like BoJack, but it holds up. It’s probably so popular because of how unique it is.

Standout episode: The Ricklantis Mixup. While my personal favorite of Season 3 was The Whirly Dirly Conspiracy, because I adore Jerry, I think we can all agree that the was the best episode of the season, if not the series. Like, really. Holy shit.

4. Gotham - I began watching this show last year, and caught up to season three around halfway through it. It began to drag a bit, admittedly, like it couldn’t carry it’s own weight - but now the show’s on season four, and it gets a little wild sometimes, but it’s holding quite a bit better, I’d say. I was pretty fucking impressed, especially with the Nygmobblepot stuff.

Standout episode: A Dark Knight: Queen Takes Knight. Although Mad City: The Gentle Art of Making Enemies from Season 3 is a close runner-up, for all the loose ends it ties up, and so cleanly, too - the winter finale gets this spot. It had me on the edge of my metaphorical seat (since I was actually curled up in bed) the entire time. While Sophia’s character and her motivations had remained muddy since her introduction, her badassery finally came to the forefront, and it was awesome. The way she tore down Penguin from his throne? Incredible. We know he’ll return, as he has so many times, but really, that was so incredible. Considering he’s my favorite character, I should feel worse. However, Sophia executed her plan so well, I was too awed to hate her. Also, Jerome’s back! I’m extremely excited to see Jerome’s role in the upcoming episodes. (Update: Oh, honey, you got a big storm coming...)

3. BoJack Horseman - I binged the hell out of this show just before season four came out, because it was so creative and thought-provoking and hilariously depressing. The fourth season was notably wonderful in a lot of ways, particularly because of Todd’s sexuality arc (the first out asexual character in a TV show!) and how well it was handled, but also because of the mature themes they took on. Princess Carolyn’s miscarriages, Diane and Mr. PB’s failing marriage, BoJack’s struggle to forgive his mother, Beatrice’s own troubled upbringing, Hollyhock’s eating disorder. I watched the whole season in three days when it was first released, four months ago, and I’m currently considering re-watching it after rereading the summaries of each episode to refresh my memory. I’d forgotten how phenomenal it was. It’s on another level - it really is.

Standout episode: Time’s Arrow. Though there wasn’t a single weak episode this season, this one definitely stood out. Following the tradition of uniquely depressing eleventh episodes, Time’s Arrow focuses on BoJack’s mother and how her turbulent childhood affected her. Gorgeously executed, it makes us pity the woman who made our favorite alcoholic horse the way he is, and it concludes with BoJack making peace with his mother, who he had spent so long resenting. It’s just a gorgeous episode. I think I’m going to rewatch it right now, haha.

2. Mr. Robot - I’ve wanted to watch this show since it came out, but I finally began and finished the first two seasons just weeks before Season 3 came out. Since I’m discussing my favorites of 2017, I won’t be talking about those first two seasons here. I’ll be focusing on Season 3, which has been, in my opinion, incredible. What began as a modern, nerdy take on Fight Club has become so much more; a masterfully dark and suspenseful fictionalized look at the looming political state of our world. We’ve gotten new characters (Irving, who’s a gem), we’ve learned more about older but mysterious characters (poor repressed Dom), we’ve had to say goodbye to old characters (I’m still mad about ******), and best of all, this season has been Tyrell heavy, and we even got to see Elliot make peace with Mr. Robot.

Standout episode: S3/EP8, eps3.7_dont-delete-me.ko - The previous episode had already established a gorgeously melancholy setting through the use of Mac Quayle's gorgeous production 2.0_6-madame3xecutioner.oga, which, as a huge fan of film scores, I instantly fell in love with. The song is featured during a scene I watched several times - the scene when Angela repeatedly rewinds the explosion, unable to cope with the reality of it. It left me feeling similar to the way I had after watching American Beauty for the first time - like the world was a different shade. I thought this would be the only moment the show could invoke that response from me, but then the next episode came out. Unlike Ep. 7, Ep. 8 didn’t have a single moment. The whole episode brimmed with pain and sadness. The show’s already sad, but the lonely, isolated feeling is often overwhelmed by the suspense, drama, and excitement. This episode let the characters hurt without interruption, and it was wonderfully emotional.

1. The Get Down - I was so thrilled when I discovered this show in April, literally a few days after Part 2 had aired. I downloaded all the episodes for a road trip, and literally could not put it down the entire tme. It blended all my favorite things - the art of rap, the origin and evolution of hip hop, how battle rapping/deejaying came to be. The music was stellar, the cinematography was breathtaking, the acting was (for the most part) wonderful, and the cast was fantastic. I’ve seen some criticizing it, because of its occasionally choppy narrative and the fact that Baz Luhrmann added his usual whimsical take on something that was historically fairly dark, but I thought it was flawless. It was definitely groundbreaking in its amount of representation, and it was fun and colorful and emotional and, overall, just absolutely wonderful. Like many others, I was pretty devastated when they cancelled it. I understand why, but I wish it could get the Sense 8 treatment and receive a movie. There’s too many loose ends - it’s a real bummer. Still, I’m grateful we were blessed with this gem of a show at all.

Standout episode: S1/EP11, Only from Exile Can We Come Home - The final episode gets this spot for a single scene; the one where it alternates between Mylene singing “I’m my #1″ in the hotel room with Jackie and all the drag queens, and the scene where an unreleased Miguel song is playing while Dizzy & Thor paint on each other, and then Shao calls Dizzy his “alien brother.” That scene was easily one of my favorites I’ve ever seen in any show, in my entire life. If that episode was a film, that scene alone would guarantee it a spot on my favorite films list. It was that good.

#mine #txt #2017

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