#tww2017 fic

[milbroom]

“Lifeline.”

So I FINALLY got around to starting my remixed work for whiskey-lullaby’s “Clumsy”. It’s been gut wrenching to write so here’s a shamelessly angsty extract where everyone suffers because why not 😙

“And pray tell, Ms. Hubble, how the hell am I supposed to do anything with you if you're so intent on keeping everything to yourself?”

Mildred couldn't prevent the overwhelming hatred she felt for Constance poisoning her veins in that present moment. She hated her for all the times she had been there but never truly there. Mildred had wanted so badly for someone, anyone, to show some sign that they cared, so she delved head first towards the first person she stupidly believed did, and she was so fucking sick of only receiving coldness in return. Sick of everything being so hard for her, when it came so easily to everyone else. Miss Hardbroom would never change, and Mildred hated her for it, hated how much it hurt to be pushed away again and again.

So she snapped.

She strode over to Constance, standing so close that she could feel her erratic breathing on her forehead, and she snapped.

"Well it's not like you've ever given me anything to work with yourself! Not like you've ever tried to be approachable, because you're nothing but a cold, awful bitch, a twisted freak who's incapable of anything else and will never fucking change, and I HATE YOU FOR IT!" Mildred screamed, her voice cracking before she turned away from the older witch and glared out the window, her magic dangerously close to breaking point.

Constance balled her hands into fists in a desperate attempt to keep them to herself. She was ready to retort, ready to rip Mildred's insolence to shreds, until she saw her.

Really saw her, for what seemed like the first time.

The sight of her scarred skin, the fierce shaking racking her shoulders, her half-starved frame, the raw agony she had seen decorating her eyes. It all stopped her short. Never before had she felt such anguish, such inconsolable grief for someone in her care.

Mildred made no attempt to move as she tried to still her trembling chin. For a moment, Constance simply stood frozen, battling the hostile emotions swirling inside her, until her chest seized painfully, the anger draining from her as quickly as it had risen.

“Mildred…” Constance’s voice softened, almost breaking.

"Don't," Mildred choked, furiously blinking away the tears threatening to spill over. "Just let me go. Go back to Cackle's, and leave me to it. I'm a lost cause. I’m too much for you.”

"You are not..." Constance stopped, an unexpected ache seizing her chest, "not to me."

"Liar."

"Mildred..." She reached out tentatively, fingers brushing against her arm. The younger girl flinched, but before she could pull away, Constance firmly turned her around, and pulled her fiercely into her arms.

The girl froze for a brief second, expecting a blow to follow the intimacy, until her heart caught up with her head and for the first time in thirteen years, she did something she had never done before— she broke down.

Mildred let out an audible sob, the tears finally spilling over as she buried her face in her teacher's robes. The dread, the resentment, the loneliness—all of it came crashing down, and she sobbed into her shoulder, her small frame shaking with the force of her emotions while she clung to Constance as if she were a lifeline.

She was a lifeline.

[tilda-rothery]

Pippa had thought Hecate Hardbroom to be beautiful before, but to meet her in person is an entirely different matter. The TV screen, or the pictures in the magazines didn’t do her justice at all.

She is exquisite. Her hair pulled back into a tight bun, making her look quite austere, revealing the long, graceful line of her neck, the curve of her jaw. Pippa can't help but feel warm and fuzzy all over, wanting to trace the pale skin there with her fingers. She opens her mouth wishing to find her voice – she’s never had trouble finding out before, but for the first time Pippa finds herself lost for words.

It’s impressive really.

A Strictly Come Dancing/Worst Witch AU nobody asked for 😅 co-written with the fabulous @simplybybea ❤️ whose dancing knowledge has been invaluable. I have had an absolute blast writing this with you ☺️ thank you, my dear friend, for collaborating with me on what was supposed to be a small one-shot 😂

[marvellouslymadmim]

Chapters: 19/19 Fandom: The Worst Witch (TV 2017) Rating: Not Rated Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Summary:

A collection of stories about the staff and their various (mis)adventures.

[always-la-belle-epoque]

"Take your hands off her!" (Hecate&Mildred brotp)

“Take your hands off her!” (Hecate&Mildred brotp)

“Take your hands off her!”

Miss Hardbroom jumps away from Miss Pentangle and Mildred realizes far too belatedly that they’ve been kissing, not fighting as she first suspected.

Embarrassment floods her and she finds herself suddenly desperate to dissuade Miss Hardbroom from pulling an Ethel and turning her into a frog (for Miss Hardbroom has jumped up from the garden bench and very much looks just like a teakettle on the brink of bubbling over). Mildred laughs a little, nervously, and shifts from foot to foot. She scratches the back of her neck and peers at the sky, giving Miss Pentangle some time to wipe her lipstick back into place.

“Erm, nice day?” She tries, but Miss Hardbroom is clearly not going to let her get out of this unscathed.

“Mildred. Hubble.” The sun suddenly seems less bright and Mildred gulps. “What on earth are you doing at Cackle’s when it’s the summer holidays.” It would be more intimidating however if Miss Hardbroom were looming above her in her usual manner rather than pinching the bridge of her nose, cheeks pink in embarrassment.

“I - erm - well.” She huffs and settles on the truth, fearing the cost of being caught out in a lie. “I’m bored. Mum’s at work and it’s too far to fly to Maud’s in a day. Enid’s in Barcelona. I can’t see my old friends from before Cackles anymore - not that there were many - and - and I don’t know,” she sucks in a breath, “I thought maybe you might be at Cackle’s still. I’ve been reading Vernath’s Advancements on Poultices and Potions and I thought I’d come ask -“

Pippa’s clearly trying not to laugh, and Miss Hardbroom is still looking pinker than ever, and Mildred rushes on, waving her hands as she tries to explain. “But you weren’t in your lab - or the library - you weren’t anywhere. So I thought I’d take a walk - and then I saw you and Miss Pentangle - and it looked like you were fighting again -“

Miss Hardbroom collapses back down in the bench, red face in her hands. Miss Pentangle sinks down beside her and tentatively touches her shoulder, though she’s biting very hard on her bottom lip and she sends Mildred a wink.

“Well.” Mildred says, and finds she’d rather just come out with it. “You never know with you two.” She steps over a patch of agapanthus and plunks down between the two teachers so she can rummage in her knapsack. “And kissing is better than fighting, I suspect. I mean not that I’d know - popsicle?”

She procures three from the pack and Pippa does laugh then. “Freezing Charm?” She takes the lemon one and smiles at Mildred, scooting over a little so that Mildred’s not quite so wedged between them.

“Uh huh. Thought I’d sneak them all but Mum would probably be glad to know I hadn’t downed that much sugar by myself - it’s just I’m soooo bored. Black cherry or mango?” She holds the remaining two out and Miss Hardbroom stares at her. There’s a long beat and then she selects the black cherry, slowly pulling it from Mildred’s grasp and opening it carefully.

They sit in silence for a while, enjoying the quiet garden and the sun. When they’ve finished their treats Miss Hardbroom gives a slow sigh, carefully tucking her popsicle stick back into its wrapper, holding it with only the tips of her long fingers.

“Weekdays at ten in the morning. We’ll review the Vernath. I expect you to be punctual.”

Mildred grins.

Leave the first sentence of a fic in my Ask box

[walkthegale]

Rating: Teen Category: F/F Fandom: The Worst Witch (TV 2017) Relationship: Ada Cackle/Hecate Hardbroom Additional Tags: Remix, Femslash, 5 Things, Pre-Canon, First Kiss, Developing Relationship  Words: 2,836 Summary: The summer before Ada becomes headmistress is the shortest summer of Hecate's life. 

A remix of @cosmic-llin‘s awesome fic, Five Times Ada and Hecate Didn't Kiss, written for the Hackle Remix Challenge 2021.

[anothersmallfeat]

I’d have to double check but I’m pretty sure that every time Hecate sets a boundary spell on one of the girls she gives it an achievable expectation.

In season one we see her bind Maud and Mildred to their rooms ‘until dawn’. And it was already about the middle of the night then.

When she traps Milldred in the potions lab she says it’s “until this place is spotless” and she comes back early for a cauldron but I think she was gonna check in an hour anyway.

Maybe her own punishment wasn’t as clearly defined as we think it is or as she remembers and that lead to some people not knowing/realizing/remembering that she was magically confined to the school by the time she grew up. (And Hecate by that time full of guilt and believing she deserved it, so she never asked)

It’s possible the adults in her life forgot they told her (figuratively) to go stand with her nose in the corner and she always makes sure there’s a clear indicator for her girls as to when they can leave/when their punishments are over.

(Or she just always limits confinement because hers wasn’t limited. I do think she’s remembering correctly and that the people who were there do remember, I think that Ada spoke up for her to the great Wizard (maybe the previous one) and/or to Alma who might have still been running the school at the time.. and it’s one of the things Ms Bat was talking about when she said “after all Adas done for you?”

I think that this was seen as getting off easy for putting the magical world in danger of discovery, which would, according to what Maud says about the code; destroy the entire magical world. And possibly that they went easy on her because she was still a child.)

I suppose you can see it either way you like. But I do think it was a great wizard punishment and that before Ada could set her free they had to write to the great wizard and get permission. And I like to think in his letter back he mentioned her examplerary behavior.

[artsoupsoupart]

Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: The Worst Witch (TV 2017)
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Hardbroom/Pentangle (Worst Witch)
Characters: Hardbroom (Worst Witch), Pentangle (Worst Witch)
Additional Tags: Hicsqueak, Bedsharing, lil bit of romance
Summary: A group of students at Pentangle’s pull some pranks causing the entire school to seek refuge at Cackle’s for the weekend. Pippa and Hecate find somewhere for Pippa to sleep. ~~
Quick little one shot bc that’s all I know how to write lol based off @blackdistractionart‘s piece: https://blackdistractionart.tumblr.com/post/169722604789/i-dont-know-how-you-can-sleep-pipsqueak-i-feel

[theworststoryteller]

The answer lies within

(4X10 did not give us the scene where Izzie answers correctly and Hecate’s reaction to it so I wrote it. Enjoy) “Hey, Izzie. Guess what my mom sent me in the mail this morning!” Azura practically ice skates on the corridor “A copy of ‘Magic for dummies‘, signed by the Pippa Pentangle herself!” “No way!” Izzie cheers “Check this out!” Azura pulls the yellow book out of her bag enthusiastically. She flips it open, impatiently. The duo stares at the signature as well as the lines written in gold ink that read “To Azura” in awe. They turn the pages and despite the piercing noise of pupils galloping across the hallway, they soon get deeply absorbed in the reading of the incredible narration of magic history, only pausing to let the occasional exclaim of amazement out. Suddenly a dialogue between two pupils pulls them out of their thoughts.

“We’re going on a field trip. That’s what Clarice said. And Mr Daisy is going to show us his new invention” Sybil Hallow announces to Beatrice Bunch who is walking alongside her. They look up to the third graders in admiration. They’re only two years older than them yet they seem so much bigger and so much more knowledgeable. Azura wishes she could go with them and learn about new inventions instead of exercising on basic skills. She looks down at magic guide for a second before turning to her friend, her focus now directed elsewhere “What do you think the invention is?

“A gigantic robot. Or a rocket that goes up into space!” the ginger headed girl offers. She barely has time to allow her imagination wander to depictions of what these ideas would look like when a familiar voice shakes them both out of their trance.

“These are non magical ideas Isabella Jones!” Hecate Hardbroom notes sternly “Witches do not use rockets. Or rrrobots. You have so much to learn about our way of life” she now stands in front them. She resists the urge to add “And you won’t find it in there” as her eyes fall on the book. For all its faults, modern magic is still…magic.

“I’m sorry, Miss Hardbroom. I am trying” Izzie states firmly in defense despite her disappointment in having failed in front of their favorite teacher, no less.

“Then answer me this” Hecate proposes Her earlier encounter with the eccentric spell science teacher and his methods of questionable quality has left the deputy in a funny mood which is not by any means improved by the material her pupils choose to study or their parents choose to gift them.  “What is the mark of a great witch?” she asks promptly, a question the answer of which she is certain does not lie within these pages. Not so much because of her in depth awareness of the differences between modern and conservative approaches-although they are very telling in themselves-as much as the fact she owns a copy of this very book. She had bought it when the first edition was released out of curiosity. ‘Research’ was what she had called it back then. “Come and find me when you know” she concludes, satisfied at her success in both provoking the interest of her pupils for the right ideals and simultaneously having a go in her former friend’s controversial beliefs. Or so she thinks. Because as she raises her hand, ready to depart, she doesn’t notice the glow in the young witch’s eyes who look as if she was just struck by lightning. Mildred’s words come to mind and she pieces everything together so quickly that if she was a cartoon character, a series of turned on lamps would be now hovering around her. “A great witch relies on her wits. Not just her magic” Izzie takes a step forward as speaks, just as courageous as before, if not more. Hecate stops in her tracks, dumbfounded. “What did you say?” she turns around, unable to believe in her own ears. “I said: a great witch relies on her wits, not just her powers. Isn’t that the right answer?” the young repeats, slightly less confident now. “Very well. It seems like your efforts have paid off, Isabella” Hecate regards the child, impressed “I suppose I should expect you to learn Merlin’s three principles of magic soon, shouldn’t I?” she asks, half-teasing and half-challenging her further. “Oh I know this one!” Azura chimes in for the first time during the whole exchange “Number one: Always have the best interest of your fellow witches at heart. Number two: Always use magic precisely and responsibly. And number three-“ she taps her dark curls thoughtfully “Come on, Az, you’ve got this-AH YES!” she throws her first in the air “Only use magic in the appropriate situations. You only have a certain amount of magic whether that is small or big: Use it wisely” she offers with a wholehearted smile. Izzie joins her. Hecate’s gaze alternates between the two girls in astonishment, the hand that is not resting on her watch shaking lightly. She had only meant this as a joke. This was knowledge that was taught in form three. Had they been taking a test she would have accused them of cheating. Instead, she swallows her ego and smiles proudly “You two will make great witches one day” At that moment the bell rings, signaling the end of their free period. “Now off to your classes” she gently urges them, giving the book one last suspicious look before vanishing. She really needs to check the latest edition. Izzie and Azura share a conspiratory chuckle of pure joy before bolting for their chanting lesson. ‘I don’t know how Mildred knew about this’ Azura thinks as she pushes Indigo’s gift back in her bag ‘But we need to thank her when we see her at dinner later’ Read and review on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23296753

[parisolympia]

you can have a little Hackle fluff. as a treat

Just 863 words. Literally nothing happens. Just a grey day in febuary and two witchy wifes. I suggest a herbal tea with it. 100% angst-free. Enjoy.

[milbroom]

“I’d recognise that voice anywhere”

Yeah, because you cared for her, Constance. You can yell, scream and beg to go back to how it was before, but in the end, you cannot change the fact that you grew to care for her.

[tilda-rothery]

My brain has got me working on two multi-chapter AU's at the same time!

My main concern: is Hercules - for a horse - too mouthy when it's in the same sentence as Hecate? – Name change needed perhaps? Maybe Artemis? – Especially as the two characters share a lot of page time together...

[grandselfmythology]

golden hour - ch. 2

‘Miss Hardbroom very pragmatically suggests they all occupy the same wing, as to not have to roam the castle to find each other. Which is how Julie finds herself nestled between the girls’ room and HB’s. Even through the thick walls of Cackle’s, she can hear the two chattering away until past midnight. Long after they turn quiet, she can hear feet shuffling on the other side of her room.’

[regalpotato]

Hecate doing magic in S03E04 - The Swamp Troll

[always-la-belle-epoque]

I love this game! and i know its a paring fic, but how about; "what do you mean 'the murder is just collateral'?"

“What do you mean ‘the murder is just collateral?’” Hecate hisses, eyes narrow as she circles the potions bench, breath coming heavily through her nose at the way Mildred and her cohort move with her, squeezing together to block the table from her view. “Mildred. Hubble. Murder of what or of whom?”

“Um.” Mildred looks panicked and Enid elbows her, hard enough so that Mildred winces. “It’s - it’s n-nothing, it’s nothing, M-Miss H-Hardbroom. It’s only that - “ she gestures with her hands and Hecate’s eyebrows lift sharply at the red stain that drips from her fingers onto the floor.

“Murder. Of. What.” Hecate moves in, punctuating each word with a step forward until she’s looming above them. Maud’s mouth is opening and shutting like coy fish, and Hecate resists casting her eyes to the heavens. Instead reaches out and shuts it for her with a long finger. She feels Maud gulp and wonders if she’ll be the first to break.

But in the end, it’s Mildred Hubble. Of course it’s Mildred Hubble.

“It’s only beetroot, Miss Hardbroom,” she wails and steps aside to show the mangled remains of a blood red lump upon the table. “It’s - it’s Saint-Valentine’s Day - and we - we - well, we were trying to cheer up Felicity with a card - she thinks that no one will like her if they find out that she likes girls and we just want to show her that we’ll always be her friends, no matter what, and Mum and I used to make ink out beets and then make our own stamps out of potatoes, but we mangled it, and the beets went everywhere and it looks like we were the ones to have murdered Saint Valentine - “

She breaks off, gasping in an enormous breath, and Hecate releases Maud in favor of  pinching the bridge of her own nose. Mildred’s rapid recount has made her head spin and she winces around an oncoming headache.

“Do you mean to tell me that there has been no murder here - no rabbit, nor vole, nor little witch -” she grits her teeth - “and that all this utter fuss is around the pigmentation of a garden variety vegetable?”  

“Enid was just being dramatic,” Maud mutters, and Hecate very nearly smirks at having pinned Miss Spellbody for the bluenose that she is. She merely wishes the girl had more of an influence over her comrades.

“Maud,” Enid hisses and looks as if she’s trying to poke at Maud behind Mildred’s back. Mildred squirms at their jostling and the beetroot juice flicks from her hands and all across the floor.

“Oops.”

“Enough.”

Hecate waves a hand and the root is gone, the table and floor once more clean. Instead there is thickly folded parchment with a pressed white flower on the front sitting primly on the workbench.

“A simple Stationer Spell would have done well enough.” She plucks up the paper and holds it out crisply. “Intention: to reassure a friend. Chrysanthemums for friendship. The color white for truth and purity of intent. Truly girls, this is Level Two witching. I expect by now you would have learned well enough to use your heads rather than cause such a circus in my potions lab.”

Mildred takes the card slowly, eyes wide.

“Now. I suggest you deliver you correspondence and make yourselves and Miss Foxglove presentable for dinner.”

There are three simultaneous mutterings of “Yes, Miss Hardbroom,” and “Thank you, Miss Hardbroom,” and a host of bobbing about in which Mildred very nearly curtsies by accident.

And then they’re gone, sashes whipping around the doorframe on their way out.

And Hecate is alone in the quiet of the room.

She presses a finger to a droplet of red that somehow has evaded her cleaning spell, and then inspects her fingertip where the stain has turned the pale skin rouge. Suddenly decisive, she transfers to her room, sinking down into the chair at her vanity and murmuring a spell so that the mirror swirls and ripples.

She can’t help the way her heart tightens and her stomach shivers until the mirror clears and she looks out into a clean, pale room where a woman startles at the mirror’s chime.

“Pippa.”

“Hecate - !” Pippa sinks down at her own dressing table. She has her hands in her hair, halfway through pulling it up, and Hecate watches as she uses her teeth to pull the rubberband from her wrist so she can secure her hair atop her head. And Hecate can’t help but think how beautiful she looks, how her cheekbones curve so perfectly, how her hair up in a messy bun suits her -  even though Hecate shudders to think of anyone ever thinking her own hair is messy. Pippa smiles and Hecate’s heart dips again. “This is a surprise?”

Hecate’s not sure why Pippa phrases it as a question. Perhaps Pippa isn’t sure herself, for beneath the smile she does look a little uncertain.

“I - “ She shakes her head. “I’m going to transfer you something.”

Pippa tilts her head, but before she can pose a query, Hecate has squeezed her eyes shut and pushes her magic through the air, satisfied when Pippa makes a small sound. 

Once her head clears, Hecate sees her through the glass, fingers curling around a single perfectly formed white gardenia. She holds it carefully, eyes slipping shut as her nose ducks to bury within the bloom. Watching her, Hecate feels her cheeks pink.

“Hiccup,” Pippa whispers, and she looks up, eyes bright. “It’s lovely.”

“Happy - Happy Saint Valentine’s Day.” She folds her hands into her lap, feeling awkward and foolish. But Pippa slides forward in her seat, so close to the glass that Hecate can count her freckles, can see the emotion in her dark eyes.

“Hecate, I didn’t think you celebrated such things.”

Pursing her lips, she blinks again and casts her eyes upwards. “I’ve never had a reason to before,” she says to the ceiling.

Pippa makes another small sound and Hecate finally looks back at her, warming at how everything about Pippa radiates a glowing affection. She can feel it, feel it in the room with her now, even though Pippa remains miles and miles away.

Slowly, she moves forward in her chair and presses her palm to the glass.

Right over Pippa’s heart.

They look at each other and Hecate lets the world fall away. All time slows and there is only Pippa’s eyes. And a warm feeling in her chest. And the cool glass beneath her palm.

Pippa moves in closer still, lips nearly against the glass, and Hecate shifts her hand so that, if she could, she might reach through and cup Pippa’s cheek. Hardly breathing, she watches as Pippa’s eyes slip close. When they open, they’re darker than before and Hecate swallows. She presses her fingers more tightly down, willing Pippa to feel the way she longs for her.

But Pippa’s eyebrows shoot up and she looks amused.

“What?

“Hecate Hardbroom, well, I never. Have you been finger painting?” Pippa’s shoulders are shaking in merriment and Hecate wretches her hand away, staring down with utter chagrin at the stain that still mottles her fingertip.

“I never thought you would be the one putting The Craft in arts and crafts, Miss Hardbroom.” Pippa’s tone is teasing and Hecate feels herself roll her eyes, even as the glint in Pippa’s own sends a shiver down her back.

“Mildred Hubble,” she grouses, and rests and elbow on the dresser top so that she and Pippa are still as close as possible. “I just spend ten minutes of my time imploring her to remember that if there are other crafts being put to practice at Cackle’s rather than The Craft - and you know my feelings on that matter - she would do very well to relegate such unorthodox witching to the art room and not my potions lab.”

Pippa laughs, a happy sound, and Hecate mock scowls.

“I know you’re on her side, Miss Make-It-Modern. Do please stop laughing.”

“Make me,” Pippa gasps, and suddenly there is a look across her face that has Hecate aching.  

She slides a hand down over her eyes and groans.

[walkthegale]

Rating: Teen Category: F/F
 Fandom: The Worst Witch (TV 2017)
 Relationship: Ada Cackle/Hecate Hardbroom
 Additional Tags: Injury, Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Canon, Magic, Magical Accidents, Embarrassment, Mutual Pining  Words: 2,010 
Summary: Hecate breaks her arm, with a few unexpected consequences.

Belatedly written for Week 7 of the Hackle Summer Trope Challenge 2021 -  Sick/Injured.

[pellucidthings]

Five Things that Never Happened to Hecate Hardbroom (and One that Did)

Hecate/Pippa, general audiences, 7500 words. My attempt to process season 3. As ever, tremendous great thanks to @gabolange for the beta.