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darkdemeter · 2 months ago

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MY SUMMONING

⚤ College student!Wanda Maximoff x GN/Female/Male demon Werewolf!Reader 18+ SMUT, MDNI — (gn/f/m) reader with a dick — monster fucking — female oral receiving — long demon monster tongue can do many things — unprotected p in v sex — some profanity — *cough* laundry mutt!reader — I think that's it? ✎ 4.5k Reincarnated love can be a bitch when you're stuffed into an ancient pocket dimension for thousands of years because the peasants reviled and scorned you. How you've yearned to return to her, promising that one day you shall join her side again as her faithful, shadowed acolyte. Now awoken to reunite with your master on the night where her magic is most potent to release you from your prison, you're summoned by her... but not her. No matter. A lover is a lover, and your love is eternally devoted to her. Now to consummate it at long last.

↳ MASTERLIST | ↳ TAGLISTS ────────────────────────

No. There was no way this is happening. No way! This was all meant to be some stupid little joke…

Alright, maybe dabbling in the assortments of witchcraft and old leather-bound tomes written in an ancient language wasn’t the best of pranks to pull, but it was Halloween and Wanda wanted to have her own fun tonight.

She doesn’t have to read the room hard to know she was practically fifth wheeling through her Halloween night. Steve and Peggy, the all-dream couple on campus, while Bucky and Nat were in the beginning prime of their relationship. Yes, both were pretty popular and many people thought their couplings adorable — if not envious of the partner — but Wanda couldn’t help but feel like an outcast all night long. She’s been following them around, attending a party or two, getting up to crazy shenanigans that ought to land them all a night behind bars until bail.

No. Wanda Maximoff, one of the brightest students in her major’s class, likes to dabble in… odd things. Peggy and Nat both knew of this certain attraction of hers, but it had been a rather closely guarded secret until now.

Breaking into the old burnt down chapel off the corner of Main Street, surrounded by the old, white picket fence, hadn’t seemed like a half-bad idea.

All fun and games until Wanda approached the podium where a dusty casing of leather sat, singed but untouched by the long forgotten fire. The yellowed, toughened skin of parchment paper crackled and rumpled with each turn over, her green eyes almost glowing with renewed fascination. She stopped at the book’s center when something caught her attention. Her eyes slip to widen a little at the sketching of a large, looming form of a wolf creature whose entire head bears only its skull, standing on its hind legs behind the regal figure of a loosely-clad robed woman. The image itself was intimately intoxicating to look upon. Something about it was pulling her to silently read over the daggered calligraphy. The woman’s illustrated body conveys what her drawn features lack; a postured body of contentment. Security. Lustful wanting.

And the tall creature before her stood proudly. Protectively. Equally wanting and willing.

The soft pad of her finger runs over the drawing, stroking the blackened detailing of the fur and skull face. Blooming deep in her abandoned, she feels that awakened need that begins to throb between her thighs and forces them to push together quickly, embarrassed with a warm glow in her cheeks.

While Peggy had urged that she leave the book and its ominous being there alone, she had been outranked by the other three who egged her on.

How could she say no? What harm could come from an obvious prop of the occult? As if a place so holy could harbour anything dangerous. With a cheeky grin, eyes slowly moving back and forth between her friends and the page she read from, she began to read aloud the incantation.

Before the very collective eyes of four witnesses, the surrounding candles sizzled with rekindled life, a singular flame dancing on each blackened wick before it would throb dimly in their warm arousement. A copied sensation Wanda felt herself able to relate to.

“Wanda…” Peggy whimpers, unsure. Steve only pulled her closer to him but made no intent in stopping Wanda as she continued to recite the chant.

The old chapel is awakened with a deadly, hollow breath, howling ominously in a deep and thunderous wind that travels through the marrow of bones and tenses the muscles. The air eagerly lapped and ravished at them, as if tasting them on its non-existent tongue.

The rattle of the ancient, relic urns chattered on their shelves beneath a baritone of a rumble that became suspiciously familiar to a growl, that of a predatory beast. Wanda’s hair whipped around to almost blinding her vision but she feels like she’s incapable to stop, that whatever force pulled her in the first place has full control over her, that even if she wanted to — and she doesn’t — she couldn’t stop.

Not until her words and voice enunciate the final lyric of whatever summoning spell she reads.

“Come hither, loyal acolyte, silhouette and blackened, come back to your vengeful pedestal upon the earth — I beckon you from your voided prison, answer my summoning!”

Behind the knowledge of Wanda’s awareness, the visage of an animal skull formed in a smoky apparition finally pushed her friends to flee.

“Fuck this!” Bucky shouts, pulling Natasha with him until his grip is white knuckled around her wrist. Steve mimics the action and sentiment with Peggy. Each of their screams joined the territorial growls and roars as they ran to the cellar’s exit.

“Wait—!” Wanda’s hand stretches out, gripping for her friends pleadingly only for the cellar door to boom loudly as the doors slam to a close.

The air feels cold around her yet so thickly laced, it shrouded her in darkness despite the many candles lit around her. Behind her, tendrils of grappling mist form into spiraling columns that wrap and weave together into a crafting tower, silent with a voice she hears as a mere whisper. Your fur manifests in this realm with a bristled motion and your ears immediately twitch, perking up at each minute breath she utters in her shell-shocked state.

Your master.

Oh, how long it has been since you last graced her beauty, her powerful aura and taken her into your enveloping hold. For too long she has been away from you. A tiny, coiled rasp akin to a curious, predatory purr emits from the chasm of your large chest.

Wanda’s voice feels raw, stretched thinly by the grimoire’s spell and her hand delicately moves to pet and stroke it but a figment of lithe, cold clawed fingers beat her to it.

A gasp hiccups in her throat as her head is tilted back slowly. Her eyes meet glowing balls of flame within the hollow frame of shallow eye sockets. A chiseled and grizzly face of a skull decorated with small cracks and a gaping maw revealing the serrated blades of teeth, moistened with an oily slick from a long, black limb of a tongue.

No way…

You make the sound of that grinding, off-note purr again, louder to reach her ears. “Milenec…”

Odd as it was to feel an inkling of acknowledgement to the term. It sounds so… endearing. Like she’s heard it before but not in this lifetime. The aspect of a time before her existence here and now is brought into question immediately.

“Y-you can talk…” she chokes out through a whispered breath, “What are you?”

“Milenec… it is me.” You let her slip from your grasp where she stumbles back, the rise of her heels clobbering against the cellar flooring like loud cracks of thunder. Your body moves unlike any natural thing on this earth. It contorts, twisting and bending in places that shouldn’t.

You body arcs and crosses over the podium with slinking ease, the wispy nature of your fur bellows in airy streams akin to the warp of fire and your long tail follows you as a trail of smoke; your body pushed and pulled like a magnetic charge between this realm and the next, there are forces at work that attempt to banish you and hold you grounded here.

“Don’t you remember me?”

“I don’t understand,” Wanda mutters. With a tilt of your large head that furls your ears with a flop, you speak with a guttural enunciation. “You freed me, Master. For so long I’ve waited, trapped in the void. But you kept your word. You summoned me.”

“I-I… that was… that was just a joke, I d-didn’t mean to—”

“But you did.” Low and unwavering is your tone, musing to and fro within the fabrication of vocalisation.

You stalk closer until the bony bridge of your skull bows down to meet her at eye level. “And now we can finally be together…”

“Properly… consummate our love.”

What?

Wanda stumbles back, nearly caving in on her heel in her blind stun but the shadowy appendage of your tail wraps her and draws her in closer so that her breasts meet the glistening grotesque of your tongue.

Long and expressive, it explores the exposure of her cleavage, tasting the warm dew of her skin and a thrumming growl rattles in your ribcage like bones being shaken in a hollow encasement.

With a quivering breath, Wanda sighs, caught in the midst of this awakened desire and her need to get away. “I’m not—Ah… who you think I am…”

Pulling away and bumping the skinless mouth of your face against her cheek, you huff. The tattered, darkened rings hidden deep within the sockets of the skull move like muscled skin. A cursed deformity?

An indication that you were once something more?

The visceral shade of glowing amber shines ominously bright like a flame tempered angrily.

“A reincarn…” The words speak as an echoing drawl that overlaps together. “But my Milenec all the same… my mate.”

“M-mate?” Wanda stutters and you nod with a low purr.

Had her dabbling in magic really cost her this time? For all her friend’s pleading to reconsider her less than tame rituals and practices, she truly opened the genie bottle on this one. And that genie happened to be a mystical entity hellbent on her being someone someone it knows. A reincarnate.

Wanda cannot exactly place it within herself, but there is a certain cadence of allure in your words. Your profession that you and her are meant to be together. She’s felt so lonely as of late after her messy breakup with her ex. Feeling unwanted and pathetically isolated, believing that nobody else wanted her because of her taboo hobbies.

But to think that this… creature wants her. She feels like it’s a sort of lust yearning to break free of herself. That this is right. That you’re meant to be.

Your hands move to cradle her jaw, her visage cutely small compared to your hands. Her breath comes in light pants. “May I… kiss you, Milenec?”

When Wanda had arrived back at her dorm room, she mostly expected it to be barren of her roommate after what occurred tonight. No doubt staying with Bucky. Her plump lips still reside with this vibrating tension after the kiss you shared. It was exotically powerful, submissively contained despite the ravenous hunger she could all but feel course through your materialised body.

The grimoire sat on her dresser, a foreboding piece of occult just laid out in the open. You advised her to take it with her.

“It was yours. Take it.”

From the vessel of her sleeping form, you emerge as the figment moving through the shadows, a tainted mass like water in oil. The native, lesser darkness submits beneath your imposing will, threatened by you. As a wayward spirit now marking your haunting claim to this new territory, you drift around your surroundings under an inquisitive note to investigate.

Your master is… different. She must be that of a reincarn. The loss of her memories — the loss of you — and in the matter that the world has changed so much since you were last summoned to this realm. Only the telltale sign of your presence leaves your shadow out in the open view, under the protruding light of the moon painted over the wall.

Before you, your hand muses between the phases of existence, taking care to be gentle when your claw pokes and plucks at a button eye of a stuffed toy of a bear. You recall young village girls who made their comforting friends from old straw, ragged scraps of hemp and linen thread. Witches of the craft also used similar ingredients to create dolls, giving them onto you to then find and slaughter them. Ah, those were the days you were admired as a god. A deity of the dark and the shadows, where your name was uttered on the faint whisper of fear and gasped aloud in seek of repentance.

Then your beloved summoned you, bound you in the sustained chains of her servanthood, and despite your nature to feel angered because of your entrapment; you admired the raw power she held. Together, you both would be unstoppable. In pledge of your divine protection and loyalty, she would bed you and settle your every carnal desire. She announced her soul yours to take in exchange that you would in turn serve as her faithful acolyte, the fonted source behind her increasing magic.

A woman after your own heart. No other witch of her time had made such an offering so appealing. Usually they slew a few mortals as a sacrifice or the odd bassinet that cradled a babe surrounded by small, dead birds; all to ask your favour and to surrender a portion of your power to make them powerful.

You’re not sure why these women thought you’d have such need for innocent, infant souls. But you made their treachery pay for their disgusting insinuation. Nor did you ever condone the contracts over the young. A foul entity of the void but one with a consciousness. That was what your true followers came to understand.

Brought back to the present you stand before the mirror of Wanda’s vanity. Small framed adornments hang by an invisible force that you decree is faulty magic, based on how easily it wanes upon touching it with the graze of a single clawed finger. Your mistress smiles in each one, some with the company of who you presume to be her followers, and others she is alone; in wait for your shadow to loom hazily in the next frame.

This modern age still confounds you but you will learn it. And with it, you will have all knees bend before your master. You will finally sate one another as you both promised for an eternity. Beside the vanity sits a woven basket. You come completely from the cloak of your phantomhood when the smell hits you. A strong odor exudes from it and you curiously click the lid open. The scent wafts higher, more intense and your core awakens with arousement. You can smell the intensity of her on the used clothes. The nose hole of your skulled face inhales deeply, sharply with a wheezing crackle. Your tongue laps at the soaking patch of her recent loins, groaning at the way hunger consumes you.

Your ears rattle with a perked flicker at the piercing chord of Wanda’s softened whine. Your head swerves to peer over your shoulder, a penetrative gaze of two smoldering fires set upon her. How beautiful she looks, the blanket pooled to her stomach, revealing the sculpt of her form, a less than orderly top clinging to her loosely and barely concealing the spill of her breasts.

As a misted cluster of wavering smoke, you saunter towards her until you stand over her at the side of the bed. Your head cranes on a tilted axis as you examine her closely. Her brows scrunched together, troubled and her body struggles and writhes pathetically, more so as she whines and moans breathlessly under the stir of her slumber. A low rumble vibrates in the chasm of your chest that it echoes deeply.

Her hips jerk and she lets out another pitiful sound. She’s needy…

She yearns for us…

She’s ready…

It’s now our time…

With one hand you cup her at the apex between her thighs and she shivers, hips jumping forward into your palming embrace. You growl with a low-edged timbre, desire taking hold of you. You feel the cool dampness soak her panties much like the ones in the basket and her smell… it takes every single sin of yours to remember not to ravish her outright lest you tear her open.

She continues to move against the wide spread of your hand, rubbing herself on you. Her muscles go rigged with each needy roll of her hips and her throat constricts around her mumbled phrases and wanting sounds.

She needs us…

You intrude two long fingers beneath the thin fabric of her panties, your thumb having sought out her clit. You run along her folds with tantilising motion, teasing. Your master gives a low, sulky moan in turn. Her legs spread further apart to welcome you, accommodate your invading advancements and her breath quickens that her breasts become strained against her top. How you’ll tear it off her in due time. Nothing will keep you apart an longer, nothing else shall hinder you from bearing witness to her naked body pinned beneath you or when she takes her place above you; to spear herself on the throne that is your cock. She will come to remember her manners, her power and then… nothing will remain in your path. You two shall be unstoppable.

You push the two fingering appendages past her moist folds and she gasps curtly, her spine arching beautifully from the mattress. Finally, she’s embracing that which is long overdue. Your thumb rolls her cli in slowly drawn circles, pressing with a touch of firmness to let her know your toying is an act to please.

Her name parts through her agape lips and her dark lashes beat with a sleepy flutter, unaware completely to what transpires.

“Milenec…” you purr. The darkened dart of your tongue slides over the maw of your bony teeth, wishful to savour her taste. You lower yourself at her side, your other hand moves up, caressing the temple of her body until it reaches the nape of her neck. Your jaw cracks and pops, a wiry whisper of breath lashes through the hollow of your throat and your tongue extends further from your mouth. Still fingering her velvety insides until she’s coating you with her arousal, her clit thrumming with a lively pulse, your tongue becomes integrated into the pleasurable mix.

You grunt and moan with a thousand resounding echoes bouncing back and forth between the walls. You taste the sweetened dew of her skin, its slight tang of salty residue. It slides over the slim plane of her stomach, caressing the creased threshold of her legs right near her navel and then upwards. The damned fabric offends you in your aroused exploration. Your tongue slips beneath its material hem and travels between her breasts, rippling for a moment before tearing the top down its middle. Her nipples become stiff, erected by the sudden chill that riddles her skin with goosebumps.

Her chorus of moans spurs you on. The inky tendril of your tongue glides over each breast, playful with both nipples until you leave a shiny gloss behind. It has her mewing in a way that makes your cock throb and stand between your legs. The thicker portion of your tongue slides and fondles over the curve of her breasts, its extension moving back down her body following the natural weight of her belly until your tongue prods at her clit. It’s cold to her, she lets out a shivered sigh and a softened mewl of your name.

Along with your fingers, your tongue divides the lips of her slickened pussy apart, becoming a third instrument that strokes her from within. Her walls are hot around you and it clouds your mind with a clouded lust, her snug walls that are flushed with a velvety feel that’s moistened; a precious cove where she beckons your entreating defilement. You groan with a slurping lap in indulgence to her taste finally on your tongue. Sweetened like a honeyed wine, the taste of a feverish delight. Greedily, you sink your tongue further inside of her.

She arches her back further and your hand supports her at the backend of her skull as she cries out your name, her breath panting and concealing that of a blissful scream. Her eyes open to the dimly lit world around her, the lamplight having flickered in warning that its lighting will expire soon the moment you laid your hands on her. Terrorised by a series of gasps and hiccuping moans, her hands fist and clench at the chilly spires of your misty fur, just thick enough to grab onto but the fainter portions slip through her hold.

“Y–Y/n… ah—ahh! My acolyte…”

You give a mused whine at the teetering edge of her voice, a bended inflection as she now balances horribly on the verge of her own orgasm; a heavenly relief. “Right there… please, r–right there!”

Your thumb becomes aggressive on her clit and you pull her to sit up slightly. The widened base of your head forces her legs to remain open no matter how much she clenches them against you, she pulls at the mane of fur around your neck as she begs you.

With a few more strokes of your fingers and tongue, she cums. Her body trembles violently as she’s taken by the white, hot flush that blinds her for a moment and her juices reward you; allowing you to devour it with gulping eagerness. As a last effort, your fingers work to stretch her walls out and she winces before you withdraw both appendages.

Her chest extends with each large breath and her eyes drown with a deepened pool of lust, the sparkle of scarlet dancing within them. Her power grows with digesting effort through each powerful exchange of your sexual endeavors. Your tongue retracts slightly back down into the unknown and pitless depths of your gullet and you growl deeply.

Wanda’s hands become fixed at your shoulders and pull at you, inviting you. With a serpentine movement, your tongue moves slowly over the mound of her clit, eliciting a sharpened gasp from Wanda. Further, it moves up her body again, wrapping as a band around her breasts and squeezing her; a mouse caught in your trap. The thinner flare of your tongue is a wonderful muscle all its own when it balances merely of its own accord before her lips, like a snake risen up for the strike.

Just from the burning amber of your eyes she understands you want her to taste herself. Her plump lips open weakly and you push the inky, slick covered tip into her mouth. Her tongue moves forward and flicks at the slitted divide of your forked muscle; and your body ripples with an unworldly, loud hum. She will come to understand such an area is akin to the sensitive tip to your weeping cockhead.

Your cock twitches and you move until your widened gate sits between her legs. Her soft, delicate thighs are forced to rest against the strong, muscled limbs of your own, just barely meeting at level with your hips and where her awaiting cunt lines up with your cock.

You move your tongue as a secondary thrusting muscle. Wnda moans a muffled song around it, her own tongue stroking the underbelly of the blackened length and your hips pitch forward with an eager roll. Your tip notches between the capture of her swollen pissy lips and you push forward.

Her body immediately tenses up and your hands hold tight to her wrists, ensuring her grip that claws at your remains there. You’ve never been opposed to pain mixing with pleasure.

The pronunciation of your name vibrates through your tongue and you growl. Her walls constrict around you with that hot flushness, fluttering as she eases her body to relax. Your size is one she hasn’t experienced before, not even her ex could compare. You pick up your thrust promptly, shoving your cock in and out, in and out. When you withdraw your tongue, the coiled muscle tightening around her ribcage with each thrust you force to penetrate her deeper, she lets out a sighing moan. Her lashes beat fast and her eyes roll back, lulled by the backward crane of her head that falls back against the pillow.

“Y-yeah, there, right there…”

“Mmm—mhph, so deep!”

How you’ve waited so long to hear her pleasure all to yourself. It’s intoxicating to be praised by your master and your pace quickens. Your hips snap faster and harder with a harshened force that rocks the bed back and forth with a grinding squeak, the headboard splintering a straight line into the wall from the pounding brunt.

“Shit, shit— I’m gonna—ah!”

You can hear her deep within the recess of her soul. Her reincarn a physical vessel that harbours your first and only love. Your beloved mate. She sings out to you; summoning you.

You see her within the blind of a memory, seeing the woman beneath you as you do your master.

You see two different branches of her soul.

And the thought that your master in this life has faced so much judgment, that her previous lover left her — not that he would have been around much longer if he’d been in the picture still.

A new quarry to hunt once your consummation was complete. A prize to bring back to your mate. Her first sacrificial offering you’d present to appease her.

Her legs lock around your sturdy hips to drag you further inside of her, kissing the delicate plush of her cervix that has her keening, her lips parted with deep and loud moans that would disturb the neighbouring dorms for sure.

“Milenec…,” you rattle with a purring growl, “My Milenec… release, let go.”

For a second time, Wanda bends to the bliss of her euphoria. Cumming around your cock, her walls hug you tightly and her body trembles again with a feverish tingle. It feels like her insides are boiling but her skin is plagued by the wave of coldness.

Your ears and back with a sharp howl as your knot swells before erupting with the spurting ropes of your release, listening to the rhythmic and moistened glide of where your bodies lock together now. It’s a sound you want to hear for eternity.

Your tongue loosens around her bust and slinks back down into your gullet, concealing its impressive length for another time.

“I feel…” Her words come out as a faded exhale. She’s unable to find the words as she stares up at you, a hand caressing the bony curve of your jaw that pops back into place after hanging so low.

“Whole.”

No longer will your darling master feel the shaded cloak of neglect and disregard. She will feel what it means to truly be loved. Desired. Worshipped. As your mate she falls under your protection and you will guard her fiercely. You will protect the witch who summoned you all those years ago and you shall forever pledge your service to the witch before you now.

She is one and the same. A lover is a lover even through ages past. Nothing will change the bargain you forged long ago. Not the eyes that spear her to the pyre that burned her in ages old, nor the imprisonment of the void, or even the grades she appears desperate to achieve — though you believe she should turn her studies to that of the grimoire: her true potential.

THANKS FOR READING!

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hoeforalbedo · 4 months ago

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ᗪEᗩᒪ ᗯITᕼ TᕼE ᗪEᐯIᒪ ✟

Prologue

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WARNING: PLEASE READ.

Sensitive topics including vague details of SA. Reader will display many mental health such as depression, PTSD, and anxiety. I will also discuss after effects of said trauma such as hyper sexuality, over-sexualizing oneself, over trusting, and many more. (Many cope in different ways however I am more familiar with this side of the spectrum as I have taken this information from my experience.) Suicidal topics. Horror. Manipulation. Blasphemy. Religious horror and possibly hints of religious trauma. Demons. Paganism. Witchcraft (I try to depict witchcraft as accurate as I can however if I make it too accurate, it will seem boring so I did add magical abilities. I write it based off of how I practice it). Possession. Death. Murder. Exorcism. Sex. Ritualistic sex. Female reader. A bit of crack (reader doesn’t take things seriously. Humor is the way of coping 😭)

If any of these themes trigger you, please do not read. You have already been warned.

Writing criticism is appreciated since I want to get better in writing.

SUMMARY: Depression is shit. This town is shit. Everything is shit. But that priest is sexy and trauma dumping is hot.

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Kim Hongjoong was never the same after working for the Vatican. He had performed an unsuccessful exorcism that took the life of the child. Trauma could do a lot to someone and so he never went back, instead residing in a small town In Massachusetts.

The town has everything it needs, shopping centers, supermarkets, entertainment, and of course, the church. The church is the center of everything, well geographically it isn’t, but everyone’s lives revolve around it.

There was never a need to leave. Those born in the town tend to be stuck in the town.

Fortunately, you were accepted into a prestigious college and had a scholarship to cover you. You were never an academic overachiever as everyone turned out the same. Working in the small town or becoming a nun to contribute to the church.

Everyone has always been devoted to the church. The town is small enough that everyone knows each other to the point you could get a knock on your door if you don’t attend Sunday mass. If you are sick, be prepared to have your parents invite the priest for a private mass.

As a child, you would pray before every meal, abide by the commandments, go to monthly confessions, and of course Bible is above everything. You weren’t allowed to question.

At 13, you asked why God placed the garden in the first place if he knew, since he is the all knowing God after all, that Eve would eat the fruit. Your parents slapped you and had you pray the rosary three times. Another time, you were at school. It was a catholic school where nuns were teachers. You had asked, “If God said that all life is valuable and killing is a sin, why would he order Abraham to sacrifice his son.” You just felt everything to be hypocritical and at the end, you were ordered to kneel on salt as you were slapped and forced to pray.

You were told that everything is all predetermined. That everything is God’s plan. When you looked around, everybody lived the same way everyday. Women were stuck in the house while men worked. “A woman's purpose is to cook and clean. You must always keep your husband happy.” When your room was messy, your mother would always berate you, saying, “If you can’t keep your room clean, how can you expect to marry a man?” Is that really the only purpose you have? If everything is predetermined, is that all there is?

Is that all there is? That question haunted you.In high school you worked extra hard, becoming honors and getting all A’s in all subjects. You even applied to NYU without your parents knowing, and only then when you received the acceptance letter did you tell them. You didn’t give them any choice. You wanted to leave, to study and become successful. They had thought you were possessed by the devil.

So why did you come back to this awful town? Maybe God is against you. Is there even a God? Some being may have decided to punish you. You were walking to the train after your shift at the hospital. You are a neurosurgeon. You know New York can be dangerous at night. Maybe you were asking for it. Ironically, the man was Christian. That cross was all you could look at. At the end, you became depressed. You could afford a psychiatrist but that never really crossed your mind.

The irony of it all was that instead of shying away from sex, it’s like all your body wants is sex. It doesn’t make sense. You would go to clubs and bars to get laid for the night but it never really got anywhere, and the more it never progressed, the more frustrated you got. You spiraled into this sex addict maniac who would oversexualize yourself only to back away when you’re finally feeling good.

In the end, an attempted suicide sent you to the ER and your parents were called. They had decided that taking you back into town would drive the devil out of you.

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"Don't be afraid, for I am with you. Don't be discouraged, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you. I will hold you up with my victorious right hand," A young man preaches for the hundreds of people in the church. He has black hair and he’s dressed in the green robe priests wear for ordinary times. He is clearly crafted personally by God. God must have taken his time carefully molding this masterpiece. You really shouldn’t be drooling over a priest. The poor lighting of the church doesn’t do his face justice, however he still looks angelic regardless.

“Depression is a sign of weakness, but that does not mean we are alone,” Pastor Hongjoong preaches and it’s clear that he’s talking about you. “God is always there for you and if you reach out to him, he will be there to light the darkness in our hearts. Depression, hopelessness, it is what the devil does to try and claw into us, to tempt us to sin. So brothers and sisters, let us pray for our sister Y/N, to help bring her into the light,” Hongjoong smiles. He watches how you uncomfortably shift in your spot, and it gives him a sense of satisfaction.

Suddenly, it feels like everyone is judging. The church looks darker than before and all eyes look at you, and only you. Even the huge statue of Jesus, a recreation of his crucifixion, stares at you as it hangs above the altar. He’s judging you and it’s clear by the look of Jesus that you aren’t crossing those pearly gates.

Hongjoong doesn’t understand why, but the way you shrink back makes him feel hot, as if his skin is burning. He shouldn’t feel that way and it causes him to feel sick to the stomach. He rushes the mass, and once he’s walked down the aisle where people sang the psalms around him like some sort of ritual, he goes to his office and downs two bottles of water. He mutters prayers under his breath until he can calm himself. Hongjoong was never the same since after the exorcism. The night haunts him and there are days when he questions his own faith. He must be a weak priest for questioning God but there are far too many questions than answers.

Once he had collected himself, he made his way back out where many people outside were waiting to say hi to him.

“Can we go home?” You whine. You already experienced unbearable humiliation earlier. It’s much worse when the town pretty much knows your business.

“No. Father! Father Hongjoong, our daughter, Y/N. We were hoping you were open for confession after the many sins she had committed. It’s also worse that she hasn’t saved herself for marriage-“ Your dad began, each word filling you with rage.

“You know I didn’t have a choice!” You yell loud enough for people to look at you weirdly. “How could you just tell people my business like that?”

“I do hope you can take her into the convent,” Your dad continues.

“I will not be a nun!” You snap.

“As you can see, Father, we fear the devil may have gotten to her,” Your mother nearly cried, dabbing her face with a handkerchief when there were no tears.

“It is unfortunate what you had to go through. It seems that the devil truly has power in this world and you just had to experience it first hand,” Hongjoong gives a comforting smile. He understands where you’re coming from.

“Well what can we say? It is all God’s plan, am I right Father?” Your dad laughs and looks for the priest’s approval of his words.

Hongjoong forces a laugh. How could God plan something so cruel? You didn’t ask for it. He didn’t ask for it and yet everyone else is justifying everything, making it seem that the pain is pointless.

“I always tell her, God gives us free will but some things happen for a reason! It was what God wanted!” Your dad continues when he believes Hongjoong agrees with him. You wanted to hurt your dad. Is that bad?

Hongjoong wanted this man to shut up. It is people like him who use religion to justify their wrong doings. “I’ll take her to the back for confession,” He interrupts. “Please follow me, Ms. Y/N.”

“Y/N is just fine,” You mumble as you follow him. You’d rather follow through with that stupid confession than hear your father’s words. There’s a reason you left.

You found yourself in a stereotypical confessional booth where there’s a screen in between you and the handsome priest.

“This is stupid. I did nothing wrong,” You mutter.

“In the eyes of God it may,” Hongjoong says thickly.

“That’s stupid,” You scoff.

“That, I can understand.”

A moment of silence comes between you both.

“I’ll just play into this stupid thing,” You sigh defeatedly. You didn’t want to go back to your parents so soon.

“Go ahead. I’m all ears,” He chuckles amusedly. “Oh Father forgive me for I have sin,” You say sarcastically, scrunching your face up in disgust. “I tried to kill my self because I couldn’t handle being a slut and having sex before marriage. If only I said no then maybe this wouldn’t have happened,” You mock the people who went up to you and called you names.

“Is that how you really feel?” Honjoong ask.

“Sure,” You shrug nonchalantly. If that’s what everyone is saying, it must be true, right?

“Let’s take out the religion aspect. Is that how you really feel?” He asks genuinely.

You scoff bitterly, “No. I find all of this stupid. These people are hypocrites! These people are calling me names, calling me whore and slut as if they know me! And- And-“ It suddenly becomes so hard to breathe and there’s a stinging feeling in your eyes. “Fuck!” You wipe the tears that had begun to fall. You never knew how badly you needed to let everything out. “I really didn’t ask for it,” You whimper, allowing yourself to be vulnerable with a stranger.

“I know you didn’t. Some people are just cruel,” He answers as he gnaws on the bottom of his lip until it bled. The booth feels as if it’s closing in on him. Why does he feel this way? Your words make him sad, angry, murderous even. A part of him wants to save you. Protect you. It’s overstepping his job as a priest. He shouldn’t get so caught up when he just met you.

“He was wearing a cross,” You mutter. “That was all I could think about. I didn’t care if he had me pinned down, he was wearing a cross and all I could think was, maybe this is what God wanted. Maybe he’s punishing me. Maybe I wanted it after all. I didn’t even say stop. Maybe they are right,” You croak, thoughts spiraling from one bad idea to the next.

Hongjoong had enough of gripping his seat from anger. Ironically enough, he would have just made the same excuse back then, tell her the same thing everyone is saying. ‘Everything happens for a reason. It is God’s will!’ He doesn’t feel that way anymore. This is one of the times he wanted to curse God. You seem so sweet and genuinely a good person. He heard you were a surgeon and he’s impressed that a person from this town made it to be so successful, especially when everyone is so closed minded.

Hongjoong stood up, no longer wanting to feel suffocated by the booth. He left his side to go into yours, to see you face to face without some barrier between you. “Hey, it’s not your fault. You didn’t want it. Did you tell him yes? Did you tell him it was okay to touch you?” He asks.

“No,” You shake your head.

“May I?” He asks to touch your hand.

You hesitate.

“It’s okay to say no,” He assures you and you’ve never felt more comfortable with a man till now.

You nod.

“No no, I want to hear you use your words. Let me hear you.”

“You can touch me,” You whisper and you fight back a smirk when you realize the sexual innuendo. You wouldn’t mind fucking him. God it’s so frustrating. You’re supposed to feel depressed and yet you tend to go between depressed and horny.

Warmth erupts within Hongjoong although he tries to push it down within him, his skin feeling as if it’s burning again. His spine tingles and he subtly shudders. He holds your hand, giving it a warm squeeze.

“Lust is never a bad thing. It goes way more beyond sex. We, as humans, lust for money, success, power, and so much more,” Hongjoong says. He tells you things that a devout child of God would never say. “But, there’s a reason why lust is a sin. When people crave too much of it, when they become greedy, they start doing things that could hurt others. You’re not a slut. You’re not a whore. You are the victim of a sinner.”

#ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fic #ateez imagines #ateez hongjoong #ateez scenarios #ateez smut #ateez x reader #kim hongjoong #hongjoong x reader #hongjoong #hongjoong smut

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aphroditelovesu · 1 year ago

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Kinktober Day Nineteen — Thigh Riding

❝ 🔮 — lady l: day nineteen of kinktober!! :)

❝🔮pairing: yandere!sirius black x female!reader.

❝warnings: smut, NSFW, female and male masturbation, fingering, thigh riding, public sex (?).

❝🔮word count: 800.

The Gryffindor Common Room is a magical and welcoming place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. As soon as you walk past the portrait of the Fat Lady that guards the entrance, it's as if you've entered a fairy tale. The walls are covered with red and gold tapestries, which shine in the light of the candles that illuminate the room.

In the center of the room is a large fireplace that crackles warmly, providing a cozy retreat on cold winter days. Soft, cushioned armchairs surround the fireplace, inviting students to settle in and share stories, spells, and laughter.

An imposing golden lion, the emblem of Gryffindor, decorates the carpet on the floor, as if it were always on guard, symbolizing the courage and boldness that characterize the house. Books of magical stories and adventures fill the shelves that line the walls, offering the chance to escape to enchanted worlds.

The Gryffindor Common Room is more than just a space; It is the heart of the house, where bonds are forged and where stories of bravery and friendship unfold with every page turned in a wizard's book of life.

And it was your favorite place to be with your boyfriend. Sometimes talking, sometimes reading or sometimes having sex.

Today was the day you decided to be more intimate.

"Sirius..." You sighed, and looked around alertly. Even though there was no one there, there was always a chance someone would walk in and you didn't want to be seen while you were masturbating by your boyfriend.

"Hmm?" He asked. You moaned as he slipped a finger inside your wetness, your pussy greedily swallowing his slender finger.

"What if someone see us?" You bit back a groan. You squeezed your thighs a little and Sirius hummed.

"No one will see us." He said and kissed her neck, adding a second finger into her tight pussy. You groaned and sank into the seat.

Sirius lifted the skirt you were wearing and licked his lips at the perfect view of your pussy. You sighed and spread your legs, giving him full access.

He rubbed your clit gently with his thumb and you moaned. Sirius curled his fingers and deepened them into your heat, hitting your g-spot causing you shivers of pleasure. He kissed your lips softly, fucking you with his fingers.

You moaned and squeezed your legs, trying to get more friction. Sirius shook his head in denial and removed his fingers from her pussy. You whimpered.

He frowned and smiled mischievously, "I want to try something different with you."

You raised your eyebrow, “What?”

Sirius didn't respond at first, he quickly removed his clothes and sat down in another armchair and patted his thigh. You got up and walked over to him and sat on his lap.

"Ride my thigh."

You smiled and sat on his right thigh and moaned at the contact of his hot skin against your wet and painfully aroused pussy.

Sirius held your waist, helping you balance and kissed your neck, his hands gently squeezing your breasts. You moved your body forward against Sirius' muscular thigh and moaned, your clit being stimulated by the contact.

Sirius pinched your nipple and you grunted, moving your hips faster and moaning as the stimulation sent waves of pleasure through your body. You looked down and smiled at the sight of Sirius' hard, painful looking cock, but he didn't seem bothered.

You took your hand to his cock and masturbated it lightly, Sirius looked up confused but when he saw the determined and pleasured expression on your face, he leaned back in the armchair and relaxed under his touch.

"P-Princess..." Sirius moaned when you squeezed his sensitive glans, making movements up and down his cock. You rubbed yourself against his thigh, your wet pussy moistening the spot, making it more slippery and easier to move.

Sirius squeezed your waist and kissed your right breast, his tongue sucking your nipple. You moaned and rubbed harder against his thigh, feeling your climax approaching. You masturbated Sirius quickly and carefully, the way you knew he liked to be touched.

You moaned as you came, your cum wetting Sirius' damp thigh. You made a few more movements up and down his dick and soon he came in your hand. You took a deep breath and pulled him into a passionate kiss. Sirius hugged you and brought you closer, taking you in a protective and careful hug.

Like he always did after sex.

#kinktober #kinktober 2023 #kinktober day 19 #harry potter #hp #sirius black x reader #yandere harry potter #yandere hp #yandere sirius black #yandere sirius black x reader #smut

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grangerhater · 1 year ago

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he hit me and it felt like a kiss

tom riddle x fem!reader

(no y/n so it can be any female character)

warnings: violence, implication of abuse, toxic relationships, i am not romanticising such relationships and please seek help if you or someone you know may be in such relationship

hurt no comfort

inspired by

The halls of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry were filled with whispers and rumors, but there was one person who stood out among the rest. Tom Riddle, a charismatic and enigmatic young wizard, had captivated the attention of many, including her. As the days turned into weeks and the weeks into months, their paths intertwined, leading to a trusted friendship that would ultimately be tested.

She had always been a kind-hearted and gentle soul, often feeling overlooked and invisible. But when Tom Riddle entered her life, everything changed. He saw her, listened to her, and made her feel seen in a way she had never experienced before. It felt like a dream come true, a love story unfolding before her very eyes.

As their connection deepened, she found herself falling deeper into the illusion that Tom had created. He showered her with attention, whispered sweet promises, and made her believe that she was the center of his universe. She felt an all-consuming love, a love that was both exhilarating and terrifying.

But as the days went by, cracks started to appear in the facade of their relationship. Tom's possessiveness became more apparent, his demands more controlling. Yet, she remained blind to the red flags, convinced that this was the price she had to pay for the love she had always desired.

One fateful night, Tom's darker side emerged, shattering the fragile trust that had been built between them. In a moment of vulnerability, she had confided in him about her fears and doubts, hoping for reassurance and comfort. However, instead of solace, she received scorn and indifference.

Tom shattered her trust by revealing his true nature, the very darkness that had lurked beneath his charming exterior. He had the power to protect her, to shield her from harm, but he chose not to, he shattered it with a slap across the face. She was devastated at first, but ultimately reasoned that it was done out of affection, and that Tom's actions could be overlooked. In a way, her love blinded her from seeing any red flags, and she chose to ignore any wrong-doings from Tom. The pain of betrayal cut deep, but her perception had been clouded by her unwavering belief in his love for her.

But she couldn't bring herself to leave him. She was blinded by the fact that someone could actually love her. She ignored all the bad, cruel things he did, convincing yourself that it was just his way of showing his affection.

She was trapped in a cycle of abuse, unable to break free. Tom had complete control over her, and she couldn't resist his charm.

One day, Tom took things too far. He hurt her in a way that she could never forget. She were left broken and alone, wondering how she could have been so blind.

But even then again, she couldn't bring herself to leave him. She were addicted to the pain, the hurt, the love. She craved it, even though it was slowly destroying her

In her eyes, his actions were simply a testament to the depths of his affection. She saw his neglect as a twisted form of devotion, his indifference as a sign of his overwhelming passion. Each hurtful word and cruel action only reinforced her conviction that this was love, that she was lucky to have found someone who cared for her so deeply.

Friends and loved ones tried to intervene, to open her eyes to the toxic nature of their relationship. But she, blinded by her own yearning for love, turned a deaf ear to their concerns. She believed that they couldn't possibly understand the depths of their connection, that they were simply envious of what she had found.

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the-lazyyy-artist · 5 months ago

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Pairing: JJK x Reader (General Pairing) Themes: mentions of witchcraft, Philippine Mythical Creatures, centered around the idea of being a slayer/sorcerer. Author's note: The reader is AFAB and a Filipino, like me! A link to a list of mythical creatures is attached at the end to help you understand our creatures. Also, found inspiration from Demon Slayer's Shinobu for this one too!

~+~+~+~+~+~

Mythical Creatures. They're known throughout the land, but not everyone can see them.

Unless you're one of the chosen slayers.

These people are gifted with an eye that can see these creatures and swear to protect the regions in the dark. They're usually from prominent families with a bloodline of protectors. The Dela Cruz's, the Bautista's, the Santos'.

You belonged to a family who had practiced witchcraft during the Spanish Colonization, though they considered it as a gift from a witch they aided. As the story goes, this was how your family also gained the status of producing strong female slayers, backed up with black magic. They told you that only the first female offspring of each generation would inherit the strength and the natural talent of producing black magic.

Your mother inherited this before you did. She explained that while she didn't receive proper teaching from anyone in the family, she could hear the voices of the women who had this gift, teaching her along the way. Your mother used this gift to protect herself and the others in danger, and she made sure you understood how the gift worked until you turned 18.

At the age of 26, you perfected a poison that would kill these creatures instantaneously. You dipped your weapons in this poison, your bolo, your arrows, your darts, and you made bombs and gasses out of this.

It took a few blood samples from every creature known: tikbalang, manananggal, duwende, sigbin, tiyanak, kapre. The effects of the poison once it enters the creature's body are first, it will make their blood boil so hot that you'd see them panic, and second, they explode. It was one of the things you made sure you keep a copy of, writing down the ingredients you got from your ancestors, and you know the future generation will use.

You understood fully that these creatures only exist in the Philippines, lurking in the dark past midnight hour. You knew that these creatures are dangerous and only do harm to people, and you can only see creatures like this because of your gift and status as a slayer.

Then why, out of all places, do you see weird creatures on the dark alleys of Tokyo while being on a one-week guided tour? The first day you arrived, you saw one hidden away in the corner near the hotel where your group will be staying. You made sure that it wasn't just your imagination, so you left the group to slowly approach it.

"Hey, hey, (Y/N)? Where are you going?"

You quickly turned around, and your group was staring at you. "I'm gonna check out this creature in there, it looks weird." There were a few giggles from the group, and the tour guide shook his head. "Is this why you're here in Japan? To see if the creatures in your anime are real? There's nothing there." You perked up and looked back at the corner again. It's still there, staring at you. "Now get back here so we can process your group check-ins. Don't wanna miss who your roommate will be."

That night, you barely didn't get any sleep. You wondered if this gift can also see other creatures in other countries. That would be weird, especially since this gift of being a chosen slayer and a witch was clearly from a witch in the Philippines.

The next day, you'd still see some smaller creatures clinging to humans, making eye contact with those with eyes. You made an effort to reach out to these creatures, but only to receive weird looks from people. It seems that it's the only thing that occupies your brain until you realize you lost the group. You sighed and checked the group chat your tour guide made for this trip.

"3:00 PM, meet by the station, huh? Well, I guess I should get going."

And get going you did. But all you did was get lost. It was still early, so while getting lost, you tried to find small souvenirs at the shopping center to bring home. Magnets, keychains, and shirts that say, "I love Japan", they filled up your shopping bag quickly. You returned to your agenda to find the station, and what easier way to find the station than by asking locals for directions?

You found a boy with black spikey hair, wearing a black uniform. Kinda weird for a school uniform. You approached him kindly, making sure you spoke clearly, asking him where the station was. After a while, you heard two voices approaching you.

"Fushiguroooo!"

They then tackled the spikey-haired kid, yelling nonsense about how they enjoyed the night before and asking if all was a lie. You just stood there as you watched the childish prank happening in front of you. What you couldn't believe was that the older white-haired man was also on it. Fushiguro then turned to you, his face blank. "It's okay, don't mind them. Please go ahead," he then raised his finger to point at the station's direction, "the station's straight ahead."

You bowed, thanking Fushiguro, and waved goodbye. Talk about awkwardness. Japan is all sorts of weird, and you haven't even figured out what's up with the creatures you keep seeing.

After you left and after Fushiguro questioned all three of his companions, he saw his sensei's face getting serious. "Was she a visitor?" he asked as he wore his coat back. "Yeah, she was."

"What is it, Gojo-sensei?" Itadori asked. He looked at his pink-haired student with such gentleness and smiled. "Not important, but I never sensed a cursed energy like hers. It's unique, I must say. Did you sense it yourself?"

"I didn't pay much attention to it, but yes, I did," Fushiguro responded. "Ah, no need to worry about that. I'll figure that out myself," Gojo said as he placed his hand on Kugisaki and Itadori's shoulders, "Let's get back to school and get some rest, hmm?"

Night fell, and you still couldn't sleep like the night before. You kept twisting and turning on your bed until your roommate called you out for being so loud with your sighs. "If you can't sleep, you can go to the nearest Konbini. Just let me sleep."

And with that, you stepped out of the hotel, wearing earlier's outfit, and walked down the street. Once you reached the konbini, soft jazz music welcomed you as you walked down the aisles of the shop. You got yourself an onigiri and a bottle of strawberry milk, and as you made your way to the cashier, you saw it again. A creature on his shoulder.

"Uhm, are you okay? There's something..." You let yourself trail off as the cashier scanned your items, not paying attention to what you asked him. You paid the amount in silence, and he turned his back on you, rubbing his shoulder as he did.

"So, they do feel it," you muttered to yourself as you found a seat by the konbini's glass wall, watching people walking by. Your view was then blocked by someone, and as you were about to say something, he crouched down to your level and smiled. "Still awake, huh?"

The white-haired man from earlier. You see him stand back to his full height and enter the konbini. "I believe we met earlier," he spoke again, pulling a chair to sit beside you. "I'm Gojo." He stuck his hand out for you to shake, and you took it. You still stared at him with confusion. How in the hell did he find you? What is with the blindfold? What in the fuck is happening?

"Say something. I know you're eating and all, but don't make it all weird," he told you, nudging your elbow. You took a sip of your strawberry milk and faced him again. "Yes, we met earlier while you humiliated Fushiguro at the shopping center."

Gojo chuckled and then rested his cheek on the palm of his hand, his elbow on top of the table. You sat still, eyeing him. "Ah, well, that's the relationship I have with my sweet students." You nodded and looked at the guy behind the cashier. He wasn't looking in your direction. "So, are you gonna tell me your name?"

"Erm, it's... (Y/N)."

He nodded and smiled. "(Y/N), cute name!" He saw you looking at the cashier, and he turned to look at the guy too. "Ah, you can see that, can you?"

Not something you expected him to say because you were just trying to get the guy's attention. This Gojo guy gave you the creeps. But as those words fell out of his lips, you snapped your eyes back to him. "You... can see that? The thing on his shoulders?" Gojo nodded, and you finally felt relieved that you were not insane for seeing those things.

"It's been two days, and nobody believes me! What is that thing? Why can't anyone see it?" Gojo smiled at you and straightened up. "Those are cursed spirits. They're an accumulation of the negative emotions that leak out from humans, and then they take form, like that little guy on his shoulder.

The only people who can see these creatures are sorcerers, and it's our job to exorcise them. Now the question is how you, (Y/N), can see these creatures?"

You leaned back in your seat, thinking that you should be the one asking it. But based on what he told you, it might make sense.

"I honestly don't know," you responded, "but if what I'll say makes sense to you, then it might be why I can see them, too."

Gojo visibly cocked his eyebrow in curiosity, and you took a deep breath. "Back in the Philippines, we have a society of chosen slayers. We're given the gift of seeing creatures of the night, and it is our job to kill those who harm people. I, myself, am a slayer. Maybe that's why when I arrived here, my eyes also saw these creatures because... they seem like creatures of the night, too."

Gojo nodded and lowered his head. "So, there are people like us, huh? Just different creatures of the night," he said, quoting you. You sighed and took another bite of your ignored onigiri in your hands. "Do you have abilities too?" Gojo asked.

"Yes. I can't say it's an ability, but my ancestors were given a gift of witchcraft. No one taught me how to do it, but once this gift awakened in me when I turned 18, I could hear all their voices guiding me to create potions and poisons that they once used during their time as a slayer."

"It sounds monstrous, but I think it's the same as us sorcerers. A chosen family member would usually inherit a gift or talent that's been passed down from generation to generation, but some are rarely passed down," Gojo replied.

You stared at him, feeling hopeful that someone in a foreign country understands what it is to be a chosen one, though it's unknown to you how much weight this man in front of you has on his shoulders as the strongest one. Gojo turned to meet your eyes as he smiled once again.

"How long will you be staying in Japan?"

"A week. Now that two days have passed, I only have three days left."

"That's enough time. I bet my students will like you."

~+~+~+~+~+~

Based on this post I made days ago, and I could not get it out of my head. PS: For foreign readers, please check out this link for a reference/list of our mythical creatures!

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk gojo #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jjk megumi #jjk itadori #jjk nobara #jjk kugusaki #jjk yuji #philippine mythology #jjk x filipino reader #jjk drabbles #jjk fanfic

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twistedtummies2 · 2 months ago

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Top 20 Wicked Witches

Halloween isn’t here yet, but I’m still on my run of October-themed lists for 2024! So, let’s talk about one of Halloween’s most famous archetypes: the Wicked Witch. Disregarding the long and rather controversial history of real-life witchcraft, fictional witches have been a staple in mythology, fairy-tales, and popular media as a whole for a very long time. From gnarled old crones and nasty hags, to darkly beautiful enchantresses who are as glamorous as they are grotesque, these mistresses of black magic are a mainstay in fantasy and horror alike. Of course, not all witches are evil: some, like Hermione Granger from the Wizarding World of Harry Potter, are generally very good and heroic characters. Even some witches who have a dark side, like Grandmama Addams from “The Addams Family,” aren’t really evil, they just have a sort of ghoulish sense of style. But no matter how much time passes, there will always be bad witches as well as good ones: figures of female power for both darkness and light. I decided to look specifically at some bad witches for this list. Some of them are hideous, some of them are radiant, but all of them match the basic description of “evil feminine magic-user.” There are a LOT of witch characters from various forms of media, so forgive me if any noteworthy ones YOU favor get left out of the running. With that said…here are My Top 20 Favorite Wicked Witches!

20. The Witch, from Into the Woods.

I wasn’t 100% sure how much this character REALLY counted as “wicked” witch, but by her own admission, “she’s not good, she’s not nice,” and she does do some things that are…morally questionable, to say the least. Plus, I absolutely LOVE “Into the Woods,” and I frankly don’t get to talk about it enough, so I’m giving her a spot here. For those who don’t know, this musical is the creation of the late, great Stephen Sondheim, whom many consider one of the greatest musical theatre masters of all time. The show is a mash-up of several fairy-tales together: in the first act, the stories intertwine and, by the end of the act, all of the characters involved have seemingly found their happy endings. This is all well and good, but the REAL kicker comes in Act II, when the characters learn that their actions (and inactions) from the first half now have far-reaching consequences, and that sometimes “happily ever after” isn’t so easy. The Witch is a central character in the story, who effectively jumpstarts the plot, as most of the major plot threads tie back to her twin goals of regaining her youth and beauty, and protecting her adoptive daughter, Rapunzel. While not necessarily EVIL, in the strictest sense, the Witch is a very self-centered character, and her self-serving nature repeatedly bites her in the rear throughout the story, with increasingly unfortunate results. At the same time, however, she’s one of the most rational characters in the story, often stepping in to halt the other characters as they bicker and fuss…though even then, it’s usually only for her own purposes. The character is typically treated as the “star attraction” in the play, as whenever there’s a really big name cast in the show, it usually goes to the Witch. Given how much meat there is to the role, it’s not a surprise that such names as Meryl Streep, Bernadette Peters, Donna Murphy, and Phylicia Rashad have all tackled the part with aplomb.

19. Gruntilda, from Banjo-Kazooie.

This silly sorceress is the main antagonist of the Banjo-Kazooie franchise, which focuses on the adventures of a bear and a bird trying to outdo the nasty crone in her many schemes. Gruntilda Winkybunion is a classic, cartoony witch, inspired by the Queen from Snow White. Determined to be the fairest in the land, she kidnaps Banjo’s sister in the first game, planning to rob her of her youth and beauty, thus turning the girl bear into a monster and transforming the gnarled witch herself into a smokin’ green bombshell. In later installments, the evil witch returns to seek revenge on those who took away her chance at glamor. While Grunty is not necessarily an idiot, she’s still a generally more humorous sort of character. Her ironic vanity and overconfidence constantly lead to her downfall, to say nothing of her faith in her many bungling minions. Though funny, she nevertheless poses a threat to the world she inhabits, and has many ways of coming back from her numerous defeats, even from beyond the grave! She may not be the scariest witch on the countdown, but she’s certainly one of the most entertaining.

18. Yubaba, from Spirited Away.

“Spirited Away” is many people’s choice for their favorite film from the popular Japanese movie company, Studio Ghibli, as well as the debated masterwork of internationally famed animator Hayao Miyazaki. Influenced by various fairy-tales and pieces of folklore, the story tells of the adventures of a young girl named Chihiro, who ends up lost - along with her parents - in the spirit world. After her parents are turned into pigs (it happens), she goes to a bathhouse run by the wicked hag Yubaba, to try and find a way to get home. Yubaba tricks Chihiro into signing a work contract with her, and steals Chihiro’s name away, giving her the new name “Sen.” As time goes on, Sen begins to forget her name and her true identity: if she completely forgets her true self, she’ll be Yubaba’s servant for the rest of time. Sen must thus find a way to regain ownership of her name and escape the spirit world and Yubaba’s influence. Yubaba is one of the few proper villains to appear in a Studio Ghibli film, and she’s a very fun character. While absolutely the villain of the story, she does have some standards: she considers herself a businesswoman, and genuinely respects hard work and determination. She even starts to form a sort of affection towards Sen, despite everything. The old witch also genuinely loves her son, Boh, spoiling him absolutely as rotten as herself. Boh later learns his lesson, but Yubaba…well, the jury is still out on that one.

17. Circe.

It’s difficult to say who the first witch character in fiction is/was, but I think a fair argument could be made that Circe - a figure of Greek Mythology - could certainly be considered AMONG the first, at the very least. This enchantress was the ruler of the mystical isle of Aeaea. The daughter of the Sun God, Helios, and a water nymph named Perse, Circe was closer to a deity than a human being, and had the power to match it. Circe was prone to jealousy, and seemed to enjoy toying with mortals either out of spite, or for sport, or for both. With her magic wand, she could turn other people into all sorts of beasts. In the famous legend of “The Odyssey,” she transformed most of Odysseus’ crew into pigs, until he agreed to live with her for a year. In another legend, she transformed a nymph named Scylla into the legendary man-eating sea monster of myth, in a plot of revenge. In still another, she punished King Picus for rejecting her advances by turning him into a woodpecker. The character still survives through various modern interpretations (my personal favorite is the one from DC, where she’s a frequent enemy of Wonder Woman). Depictions of the sorceress range from her being a mischievous trickster who is more chaotic than truly evil, to her being an outright evil entity. As one of the longest-lasting examples of an antagonistic witch, she definitely deserves mention here.

16. The Other Mother, from Coraline.

While I count the Other Mother as a witch, since she has been classified as such in other sources, this character is sort of an iffy case. It’s not really clear what or who the Other Mother actually is. Alternatively referred to as “The Beldam,” she is a mysterious and otherworldly being who lives in a parallel world, where she lures unhappy children by pretending to be a nicer, more indulgent version of their actual mothers. The Other Mother creates a universe where the child will have everything they ever wanted, be able to go on all the whimsical adventures they could ask for, and where every person they know is now a much more interesting version of their real life selves. Once the child is “fattened up” with all this joy, the Other Mother convinces them to sew a pair of black buttons onto their face in place of their eyes. It’s not clear exactly what happens then, but once they obey, the Child’s soul belongs to the Other Mother, and she devours their bodies. In both the original novel, as well as the more famous animated movie adaptation (which, to its credit, stays largely true to the book), as time goes on throughout the story, the Other Mother’s appearance changes steadily, from looking identical to Coraline’s real Mom, to resembling some twisted, warped, disgusting monster that hardly resembles the real woman at all. Her origins, the nature of her powers, and even her EXACT motivations cloaked in mystery, the Other Mother is one of the creepiest characters on this list.

15. Witch Hazel, from Looney Tunes.

In contrast to the mind-numbing horrors of the previous choice, Witch Hazel is one of the most lighthearted contenders, and by far the most LITERALLY cartoony. First appearing in a parody of “Hansel and Gretel,” this hyperactive hag didn’t appear in a ton of cartoons, but she’s nevertheless fondly remembered. Most of the time, Hazel is looking for some hapless animal to cook into her stew for supper, or else seeking some sort of special ingredient for one of her many poisonous potions. While not especially bright, her powers and her tenacity make her a dangerous character. Hazel is largely entertaining because of just how EXCITED she always is: she’s almost always bouncing around from scene to scene, and clearly having a blast doing whatever she wants to do. Like many great cartoon villains, and especially those from the Looney Tunes library - similar to Wile E. Coyote or Sylvester the Cat - she never wins, but you almost want her to, simply because she’s so much fun to watch.

14. Mommy Fortuna, from The Last Unicorn.

While this haggard old hag (see what I did there, folks who know?) is a relatively small character in the story, her role is still important, and she’s easily one of the most memorable antagonists in the tale. “The Last Unicorn” was a fantasy novel written by Peter S. Beagle; it was later adapted into an animated feature film, produced by Rankin/Bass, with Beagle acting as the chief screenwriter and having a major role in helping to cast the picture. The plot of both the novel and the film is basically the same: a Unicorn, who believes she may be the last of her kind, leaves the secluded safety of her woodland retreat to try and find out what has happened to the rest of her species. Early on, she is captured by the wicked Mommy Fortuna: a witch who runs a traveling show called “The Midnight Carnival,” where she puts on displays of mythical beasts she has apparently captured with the help of her fellow showmen. It’s ultimately revealed that nearly all of Fortuna’s legendary creatures are mere illusions, as she uses her magic to make ordinary, rather shabby animals appear to be fantastic beasts. The Unicorn is one of only two actual, immortal beings she has successfully managed to ensnare. The other is the vengeful harpy, Celaeno. Fortuna has become obsessed with her capture of the harpy, and though she knows the Celaeno will literally be the death of her, she takes not only comfort but PRIDE in the fact that the creature will never forget the years she spent as the prisoner of the witch. The character was voiced in the film by Angela Lansbury, of all people; if you ever wanted to know what Mrs. Potts would sound like if she just completely lost her mind…well, first watch “Sweeney Todd,” then maybe take a look at this picture.

13. Jadis the White Witch, from The Chronicles of Narnia.

Inspired by Hans Christian Andersen’s “The Snow Queen,” the White Witch - a.k.a. Jadis, a.a.k.a. The White Queen - is the primary antagonist of two of the Narnia novels: the original story “The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe,” and a later prequel tale, “The Magician’s Apprentice.” Though beautiful, she is thoroughly and horribly wicked: a vain sorceress whose heart is as cold as the icy winter she plunges Narnia into during her reign. Jadis is not only a highly gifted sorceress, but also incredibly strong physically, making her a particularly dangerous force to be reckoned with. Any who stand in her way are tortured, killed, or turned to stone; sometimes all of the above. She is capable of appearing kind and helpful at first, but only when it suits her needs to manipulate people to her side. While the White Witch is a very iconic villain (arguably more iconic than her inspiration, since most versions of the Snow Queen actually bear more resemblance to Jadis than anything from Hans Christian Andersen), I don’t necessarily automatically think of her when I think of the phrase “wicked witch,” so I’m ranking her somewhat lower. Make no mistake, however, she is a marvelous character, and worthy of placement.

12. The Grand High Witch, from The Witches.

Arguably one of Roald Dahl’s darkest children’s books (and that is saying a LOT, believe me), “The Witches” is a book all about…well…witches. In this universe, witches are not just treated as spellcasting crones, but rather almost as another species…a species of pure evil, who LOATHE children. Why do they loathe children? Because kids stink…literally. Witches find the scent of children so repellent, they will do ANYTHING to eradicate as many little boys and girls as they can from the planet. The most notable of the evil ladies in the story is their leader: a mysterious and diabolical figure known simply as the Grand High Witch. In both the book and each of the two feature film adaptations that have been released (one starring Anjelica Huston as the Grand High Witch, the other starring Anne Hathaway), the Grand High Witch presents herself at first as a beautiful, glamorous woman…but this is quite literally a mask. Underneath her disguise, she is a nightmarish beast, almost too repulsive to describe, with a voice that’s described as sounding like something crackling over a fire. Easily the most feared and powerful of all witches, she will quite literally fry those who dare question her authority, courtesy of white-hot beams of energy she can shoot from her eyes. She’s easily one of the most unsettling and frightening witches on the list, no matter which interpretation you look at.

11. Morgan le Fay.

One of the original dark sorceresses of literature and myth, Morgan le Fay ranks low because how wicked she is, and what kind of person she is, tends to vary depending on the adaptation or reimagining of Arthurian lore you actually look at. In some cases, Morgan is not really evil at all. In others, she is a cruel but elegant sorceress who will stop at nothing to achieve her evil ends. In still others, she is a more sympathetic villainess, whose dark deeds are fueled by tragedy, or who shows a noble side to her character beyond her diabolical actions. Even her name has changed: she’s been Morgan le Fay, Morgaine, Morgaine le Fay, Morgana, the list goes on. It’s the constant reinventions of Morgan that keep her out of the top ten, but they also showcase her single greatest strength: she is, almost without a doubt, the most famous villain in Arthurian legend (in the ones where she IS a villain), the only other possible exception to this rule being her son, the universally black-hearted Mordred. Arch-nemesis to both King Arthur and Merlin, as long as their stories are told and retold, Morgan will be following close behind in some fashion or another.

10. Witchiepoo, from H.R. Pufnstuf.

Another more lighthearted enchantress. A lot of you probably don’t know much about this character, if anything at all, but I’ve always had a soft spot for the (hilariously named) Witchiepoo, the main antagonist of the classic children’s series, “H.R. Pufnstuf.” The series focuses on the adventures of a young boy named Jimmy, who ends up stranded on the shores of a peculiar fantasyscape called Living Island. He works with the town’s mayor, the titular Pufnstuf, to keep peace across the isle, and foil the machinations of the villainous Witchiepoo, who forever schemes to - you guessed it - take over the world. Witchiepoo is about as cartoonish a witch you can get without being an ACTUAL cartoon; think Witch Hazel and then make her a live-action character, and you’ll have a rough idea. I got to see reruns of this series a lot growing up, and even owned a Witchiepoo plush toy as a child (sadly, I no longer have it), so this character has always had a soft spot for me. Much of the credit for her power as a character goes to her performer, the late Billie Hayes. She reprised the role in “The Paul Lynde Halloween Special,” where she was revealed to be the sister of the Wicked Witch of the West…which…I guess means Witchiepoo is the Wicked Witch of the East? (Wonder how she came back from having a falling house crush her spirit…AND her body.) Interestingly, Hayes also played a very similar character in the film “The Black Cauldron,” in the form of Orgoch, one of the Witches of Morva. I guess she just had a very specific and delightfully wicked type.

9. Bellatrix Lestrange, from Harry Potter.

While there are many witches, both good and bad, in the Wizarding World of Harry Potter, arguably none are as delightfully wicked as Bellatrix Lestrange. (Please don’t bring Umbridge into this mess, I said DELIGHTFULLY wicked.) Bellatrix is one of the most notable antagonists of the series, both in the films and the books…which is funny, since she actually doesn’t appear till the last three novels, and, by extension, the last four films of the original Harry Potter movie series. Rotten to the core, this mad witch is arguably the single most devoted of Lord Voldemort’s Death Eaters - an army of dark wizards who wish to conquer the entire world. Some do it for love of carnage. Some do it because they believe they are superior beings. Bellatrix does it for both reasons. She is sadistic and ruthless, gleefully tormenting and killing anybody who crosses her. Her personality flips from a zany, childish madwoman to a vicious, psychotic killer at the drop of a hat. In a way, Bellatrix feels like a sort of crossroads between the archetypal nasty crone many Wicked Witches seem to be, and the more glamorous dark sorceress type you’ll find in characters like Morgan le Fay or Jadis. She’s not necessarily bad-looking, but she’s not all there…I would say that perfectly describes her mental state, but that would imply there was ever a good soul there to begin with. Unfortunately for Harry and his team, that’s not the case.

8. The Sanderson Sisters, from Hocus Pocus.

Well, you can’t have a list of great wicked witches without these three, in my opinion. This Halloweentime cult classic is largely remembered JUST for these characters; I don’t think too many people care that much about about Max, Dani, or…(thinks)...okay, maybe SOME people care about Thackery Binx, but certainly not as many as those who care about the Sanderson Sisters! These three evil spinsters were executed during the infamous Salem Witch Trials (apparently, not ALL of the victims were innocent). They were caught in the middle of a plot to consume the life force of every single child in the village. However, before they were hanged, they cast a spell that would summon them back someday from beyond the grave…and three hundred years later, in 1993, they get their chance. Winnifred, played by Bette Midler, is the leader of the group, being the smartest and most cunning. Mary (Kathy Najimy) is arguably the silliest of the trio (which is saying a lot), but has the best nose, being able to sniff out kiddy-winks like the Child Catcher. Sarah (played by Sarah Jessica Parker) is a childish airhead, with a salacious edge to her personality. All three have the power to mesmerize people with their voices, siren-style. The actresses find a great balance between being entertainingly goofy and actually quite creepy and dangerous when necessary. The film’s popularity has only continued to grow over the years, with it now having a Halloweentime show at Disney World, and a sequel film, where the Witches return a second time almost thirty years after their initial resurrection. This film delivered much of the same from the trio, but also gave them a more sympathetic side, showing that these sisters didn’t come from the best background, and, beneath all their bickering and pantomime antics, they truly did and still do love each other. Always fun to see that in villains.

7. Ursula, from The Little Mermaid.

Consistently voiced by the late, great Pat Carroll, this cecaelian Sea Witch is certainly a unique choice on the list. In the original story of “The Little Mermaid,” the Sea Witch is a mysterious but not necessarily malicious character. She’s not someone you want to cross, but she’s not truly evil. In Disney’s treatment of the story, however, Ursula is depicted as an almost Mephistophelean character: a wily witch who makes almost Faustian bargains with merfolk, offering them the things they want most…but always for a price. With the help of her pet eels - Flotsam and Jetsam - she then sets about rigging the stakes to her advantage. Ultimately, these deals typically result in her taking her client’s souls, as she transforms them into withered, sentient, eternally-tormented polyps in her undersea garden. Ursula’s plans seem largely based around her desire for power, as well as her yearning for vengeance against King Triton. (In some continuities, Triton is her brother…Scar approves.) However, she also clearly takes gleeful delight in simply causing trouble, making other merpeople miserable and relishing every moment of their despair. She’s widely considered one of Disney’s greatest villains, and for good reason; placing her in my Top 10 here is a no-brainer.

6. The Witch from Hansel & Gretel.

Much like Morgan le Fay, there have been many incarnations of this witch throughout history. However, unlike Morgan, whose levels of evil tend to fluctuate…pretty much EVERY version of this Witch is pure evil, and it’s not surprising why. In this classic fairy-tale, a pair of small children - typically abandoned in the woods by their cruel stepmother - stumble across a giant gingerbread house in a secluded part of the forest. There they meet a kindly old woman, living alone, who takes them in and offers the starving babes some food. Unfortunately, it’s quickly made clear this is a sham: the “nice old lady” is really a cannibalistic witch, who uses her tempting home as a way of luring in her favorite meals: silly children. Arguably her greatest weakness is her poor eyesight, but her other senses are so heightened it almost doesn’t matter. The brother and sister must then find a way to escape the evil crone, before they end up as her dinner. The story is one of the most well-known fairy-tales of all time, and has been adapted to film and television on numerous occasions. There’s even a rather popular children’s opera rendition of the tale, along with other theatrical productions. Some of my favorite people to play the Witch include Cloris Leachman, Rosie Perez, Joan Collins…and our old pal Billie Hayes. Yeah, Witchiepoo strikes again…like I said, Hayes must have had a VERY specific type. XD

5. The Weird Sisters, from The Scottish Play.

No, I’m not saying the title, because I’m not taking any chances. But if you know your Shakespeare, you’ll know which play I’m talking about. If you don’t, however, here’s a brief little summary: a Scottish nobleman, whom we shall call “MacB,” learns from a trio of witches - referred to commonly as “The Weird Sisters” - that he will become king. Urged on by his ambitious and dangerous wife, he decides to kill the current king and orchestrate things in such a way as to seize the crown for himself, thus creating a self-fulfilling prophecy. Still unsure of his security and power, however, MacB later visits the witches again…and it isn’t long till history repeats itself, this time much to MacB’s detriment. These witches are some of the most iconic in history; their famed chanting of “Double, Double, Toil and Trouble” has arguably become more well-known than the play itself, or their role in the story. While the Witches are evil in the story, their exact motives are unclear: they seem to be bringers of chaos, simply relishing in the chance to stir up trouble with their prophecies and teasing words, leading MacB and others on then sitting back and watching the madness unfold. Some versions give them a slightly softer veneer, making them seem more like strange wise women than malicious monsters. In some versions, in fact, there are more than three Witches, instead revealing a whole coven of cackling crones, concocting vile potions and practicing scary spells in the wilds of the world. Given that this is my favorite of Shakespeare’s plays, it stands to reason these famous enchantresses would rank highly for me, but there are still a few characters I like more.

4. Baba Yaga.

If there is a quintessential fairy-tale witch, I would argue the Russian crone known as Baba Yaga fits that bill. Predating even the witch from “Hansel & Gretel” (whom she may or may not have inspired), Baba Yaga is a figure of Slavic folklore, who has appeared in many stories over the years. She is described as an ancient hag with iron teeth, who lives in a hut that is able to move around on giant chicken legs. She flies around in an oversized mortar, with a crooked broom in one hand that she uses to sweep away her tracks. In many stories, Baba Yaga is depicted as an eater of children; sometimes she lures gullible ones into her lair, other times she kidnaps naughty children and whisks them away for her supper. Of course, she doesn’t restrain her appetite to JUST kids; those who displease the Baba Yaga run the risk of being her dinner regardless. However, she is not wholly unreasonable: in some stories, she’s depicted as being somewhat like the Sea Witch - making hard but not impossible deals with mortals for her own ends. There have been many depictions of this character over the years: from animated films like “Bartok the Magnificent,” to video games like “Castlevania: Lords of Shadow" and “Rock of Ages II,” to unrelated forms of literature like “Babushka Baba Yaga.” Some of these make the witch out to be a more sympathetic character who is merely misunderstood, while others stick to her as a purely evil villainess. Arguably the greatest bogey-story of witchcraft on this whole countdown, Baba Yaga has more than earned her place in my top five.

3. The Evil Queen, from Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs.

While I’m specifically talking about the Disney version here, one could easily give this placement to ANY version of the Evil Queen. In the original fairy-tale, it’s not clear if the Queen’s disguises are the work of magic or not, but considering all the other magical things around her - from the Poison Apple to the Magic Mirror to lesser-known elements - it’s not surprising many adaptations go the full monty, so to speak, and have her physically transform into a crooked old crone. Disney’s version was probably the first to take this approach, and remains the most famous. With this take on the character, you kind of get the best of both worlds with the spectrum of evil feminine spellcasters: as the Queen, she is cold, elegant, and darkly beautiful. As the Witch, she is a half-crazed, gnarled hag, complete with a cackling laugh. Both of her guises are iconic, and the scene where the Queen changes her shape for the first time is one of the most famous in the film. Like many of the other Disney Villains that would follow her, she is delightfully quotable, and set the bar many famous antagonists - including other witches - would later follow.

2. Maleficent, from Sleeping Beauty.

DON’T START YELLING AT ME YET. I am very well-aware that Maleficent isn’t TECHNICALLY a witch, in the strictest sense of the word. She is a dark fairy; a member of the fae. HOWEVER, I’m still going to count her because a.) she still fits the basic bill of “humanoid enchantress of the diabolical sort,” and b.) she actually HAS been referred to as a witch, in Disney-made materials no less, on more than one occasion. When you combine that with the fact she’s one of my favorite villains of all time, I think I’m justified in giving her some inclusion. While Morgan le Fay is arguably the archetypal “wretched yet beautiful sorceress” figure (and Morgan, herself, has some fairy-based origins, I should add, at least in some versions), Maleficent is the character I most quickly think about when I consider the same character type. She is regal, grandiose, and refined, yet has monstrous power and an even more monstrous temperament. As an apparent entity of evil, she seems unable to find real joy in life except when she’s causing trouble for other people, and she takes her work VERY seriously. Since her debut, she has become one of Disney’s most noteworthy villains; in many spin-off materials, such as “Kingdom Keepers” and “Kingdom Hearts,” she is depicted as a leading member of the Disney Villains, and she is consistently treated as one of the most powerful and dangerous even in her most silly reinventions. How much she really counts as a “witch” can be debated till the dragons come home, but in my books, I feel she’s worthy enough to not only make the cut, but place VERY highly.

1. The Wicked Witch of the West, from The Wizard of Oz.

While Maleficent may be one of my favorite villains of all time, let’s face it: when you think of the phrase “Wicked Witch” - or, heck, probably even if you just think of the word “Witch” on its own terms - chances are high the first image that comes to your mind is this character. In the original L. Frank Baum “Oz” books, however, the Wicked Witch of the West is a relatively minor villainess: she’s just one of the many obstacles on Dorothy’s journey in the original story, and while she is arguably the most dangerous and iconic, she’s not the antagonist of the entire novel. In fact, after her infamous melting, she kind of just disappears from the series: she was an evildoer who came and went, nothing more. It was the advent of the 1939 Technicolor movie, which starred Margaret Hamilton in the role of the Wicked Witch, that made the character so popular. Much like Bela Lugosi’s Dracula or Boris Karloff’s Frankestein Monster, I feel that Hamilton’s Witch is sometimes overlooked for how EXCELLENT the performance really is; while not at all subtle, she isn’t treated like a joke in the original movie, she’s treated as a legitimate threat, and Hamilton does a great job at making her one. The popularity of the musical “Wicked” - loosely based on Gregory Maguire’s novel of the same name - I think has both bolstered and yet overshadowed Hamilton’s superb spellbinder: as much as I love Elphaba, I think people often forget or underestimate the true power of the original, TRUE Witch from the movie as a result. Other versions of the character have come and gone since, as well, but it’s this version that has remained immortal and the most influential. I see no reason not to name Margaret Hamilton’s Wicked Witch of the West as my favorite - and the definitive - Wicked Witch.

HONORABLE MENTIONS INCLUDE…

Mother Gothel, from Tangled. (Full disclosure, ALL of the HMs are related to Disney. Weird.)

Magica DeSpell, from DuckTales. (Both versions of her are great; very nearly made the cut.)

Mad Madam Mim, from The Sword in the Stone. (Relatively small role, but very fun.)

The Witches of Morva, from The Chronicles of Prydain. (They’re less wicked in the books than in the Disney film, “The Black Cauldron,” but I think they still fit.)

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sororfeminarum · 2 years ago

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If you feel comfortable putting the specific city/state, feel free to do so in the tags!

I’d love to start connecting together because this path can be a very lonely one if the only community is online!

💫✨🌙

#dianic witchcraft #dianic wicca #feminist spirituality #female-centered spirituality #goddess spirituality

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sianagrace · 9 months ago

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Bedknobs and Broomsticks and the Beautification of War and Witchcraft: Siana’s Panel Presentation

Robert Stevenson and Ward Kimball’s 1971 fever dream of a musical combines action and animation, war and witchcraft, feminism and effemination, and a classic Disney fantasy touch. Based on the books by English children's author Mary Norton, the story follows Miss Price, the town's "crazy lady", "spinster", and secret witch, as she takes in three young siblings displaced from London during World War II. The four join with scammer/magician Emelius Browne to search for a spell that could “end the war”. Let’s take a closer look!

Narratives and Myths: The Disney-fication of Witchcraft

Stevenson and Kimball Disney-fy witchcraft through Angela Lansbury’s character, Miss Price. Storytellers throughout history often present witches as antagonists or villains: Hansel and Gretel (1812), Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs (1937), and The Sword in the Stone (1963), to name a few. Of course, by 1971, people worldwide could associate “Good Witch” with Glinda (1939), but she was not a catalyst for similarly-natured witches. Miss Price embodies a sense of normalcy and country charm that makes witchcraft seem more like a hobby rather than an all-encompassing characterization of evil. More broadly, Bedknobs and Broomsticks presents magic as realistic, providing the audience with an “anything is possible” mindset.

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Depictions of Femininity and Masculinity: Just Feminist Enough

Being a witch simply slots into Miss Price’s identity: she is a single, private, middle-aged woman who lives alone in a large home fairly far from the town center. From our first encounter with her character, we can tell that she does not conform, and has no interest in conforming, to 1940s societal expectations regarding how a woman her age should present herself.

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In her article “My Fair Lady: A Voice for Change”, scholar Marcie Ray notes that as America and Western Europe called in second-wave feminism, there came a filmic trend of musicals “[employing] the single girl character to depict the changing nature of (white) female sexuality” (293) as opposed to following a strict love plot. In a later section, “Eliza as the ‘Other’”, Ray discusses the tool of othering the lead female protagonist so she appears to have room for improvement, growth, and assimilation into proper society. Miss Price follows this formula, presenting palatable white femininity and feminism, but ultimately reverting to heterosexual expectations: Mr. Browne, once her anonymous professor of witchcraft, quickly becomes her love interest.

Aligning with the ongoing feminist movement at the time of this film’s production, Mr. Browne’s masculinity, and attached agency, come into question rather than being accepted as fact. His introduction in the film establishes him as a trickster, con artist, and coward. Miss Price turns him into a bunny multiple times, to which he replies “Miss Price, a word about your tactics: if I know I’m being changed into a hawk or a tiger, or something with a bit of flash, but always a fluffy white rabbit? It’s incorrigible!” This power dynamic cements Miss Price, and her playful, modern take on femininity, as the authority and lead throughout the film.

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Class and Racial Subtexts: “Portobello Road”

The backdrop of World War II connects all the characters in this film through an environment devoid of abundance, and an expectation of having “less than”. Any hints of wealth or a British upper class can only be seen in what’s left behind during the height of the war rather than through individual characters.

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The over ten-minute-long “Portobello Road” musical sequence demonstrates this time of unity through scarcity through color, music, and performance. The street, either through set building or editing, appears gray in itself and tinges everyone walking along the street similarly. This area of London feels communal and bustling while simultaneously being economically disadvantaged. The song, sung by all five of our lead protagonists and by the large ensemble, speaks of riches, fantasy, and possibility: the Portobello Road market is a symbol of hope, even if momentary and unfeasible.

There is little racial or ethnic subtext in this film - past, of course, the significance of WWII and all those groups ostracized, interned, and killed during the time. Portobello Road, however, curiously introduces a densely diverse enclave of London, including spotlight moments of Sikh soldiers, Scottish dancers, and Trini performers. Past their brief musical moments, we do not analyze or revisit these characters. We are, however, shown our five white protagonists interacting with these minority groups in a normalized, meaningful way: dancing, playing, and smiling alongside each other in this utopian street fair. This scene aligns more with the decade of the film’s production (late-60s and early-70s) than it does with the period in which it’s set (1940s).

Significance to the Audience and Temporality

As briefly mentioned earlier, the character development in Bedknobs and Broomsticks is critical to ensure the comfort of 1970s audiences. Miss Price is just feminist enough, the children as just boisterous enough, Mr. Browne is just crass enough, and everyone is just poor enough. There are many things a contemporary audience can problematize about this film: Miss Price’s reverting to patriarchal expectations of marriage, love, and motherhood; the romanticization of war and, specifically, WWII; Mr. Browne’s sexist remarks about women's memories and professional capabilities. At its core, however, this is still a Disney fantasy with loveable, quirky characters, catchy musical numbers, and an entire additional animated world to fall in love with. There’s a steadfast formula that makes this film enjoyable despite its generational immobility.

Critical Discussion Questions

How do we create lovable characters whose backgrounds are classically/traditionally/stereotypically rooted in horror, antagonism, and/or villainy (ex. witches, con-artists, monsters)?

What generational differences do you see embedded in your film / what changes should/would be made in a remake?

Are love plots actually necessary to the plot of your film or other musicals? What would look different about the trajectory and public reception of the film without a love plot?

@theuncannyprofessoro

#oxyfilmmusical #panelpresentation #Youtube

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dancerinthestorm · 12 days ago

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„I am terrified and I am terrible. I am fearful and I am something to be feared.“

Book Rec: „The Once and Future Witches“ by Alix E. Harrow

Evenings are turning cold and dark and wet again and Mr. Dancerinthestorm is off to earn money elsewhere during the week. No time like present to tackle that ever-growing "to be read" pile of books on my night stand before asking for more for Christmas 😅

Pure stroke of luck I picked up this one at the shop and I am head over heels in love with it. The three sisters at the center of the story are some of the most beautifully flawed female leads I‘ve come across yet and the prose is so gorgeous it hurts:

„James Juniper is just a girl, most of the time. The rest of the Sisters of Avalon are just maids or mill workers, dancers or fortune-tellers, mothers or daughters. Everyday sorts of women with everyday sorts lives, not worth mentioning in any story worth telling.

But tonight, beneath the Rose Moon of June, they are witches. They are crones and maidens, villains and temptresses, and all the stories belong to them.“

Absolute recommendation if you are into sweeping historical tales of sisterhood and witchcraft and standing together against all odds.

#book recs #the once and future witches #alix e. harrow #witches #gorgeous female characters in literature #book recommendations

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wasted-women · 11 months ago

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ROUND 1B, MATCH 4 OUT OF 8!

Cause of Death & Propaganda Under the Cut:

Lisa Tepes

Cause of Death: Burnt at the stake by the Church for practicing "witchcraft"

Propaganda:

[No Propaganda Submitted]

Sara Trantoul

Cause of Death: Killed herself to avoid becoming a vampire; turned into a magical whip

Propaganda:

Castlevania is full of fridged women, and Sara is one of, if not the most egregious case of the refrigerated woman. Not only is she used to further Leon’s story by giving him a reason to be angry at things and killing vampires, but she becomes the Vampire Killer whip which is used to further the stories of other male Belmonts after Leon. Any of the stories involving the Vampire Killer are always centered around its male wielder. What’s even worse is that she’s never acknowledged after Lament of Innocence. Hell, Leon is mentioned in the animated series, but you know isn’t? I bet you can guess. Anyways, vote Sara.

Julia Belmont

Cause of Death: Murdered by a serpent-like creature

Propaganda:

They made a new female character for the second Netflix show and then fridged her to give her father and son angst. We could've had it all...

#wasted women poll #round 1 #round 1b #lisa tepes #sara trantoul #julia belmont #castlevania #castlevania symphony of the night #castlevania: symphony of the night #castlevania lament of innocence #castlevania: lament of innocence #castlevania nocturne #castlevania: nocturne #netflix castlevania #poll bracket #poll tournament #character polls #polls

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takemyrevolutions · 9 months ago

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“Is it, er, possible for a woman to be, you know, a wizard?” she said eventually. Simon stared at her. She gave him a defiant look. His throat strained. He was trying to find a sentence that didn’t start with a W. In the end he was forced to make concessions.

“A curious idea,” he said. He thought some more, and started to laugh until Esk’s expression warned him.

“Rather funny, really,” he added, but the laughter in his face faded and was replaced by a puzzled look. “Never really t-thought about it, before.”

“Well? Can they?” You could have shaved with Esk’s voice.

“Of course they can’t. It is self-evident, child. Simon, return to your studies.” Treatle pushed aside the curtain that led into the back of the wagon and climbed out on to the seat board. The look of mild panic took up its familiar place on Simon’s face. He gave Esk a pleading glance as Treatle took the reins from his hands, but she ignored him.

“Why not? What’s so self-evident?”

Treatle turned and looked down at her.

He hadn’t really paid much attention before, she was simply just another figure around the campfires. He was the Vice-Chancellor of Unseen University, and quite used to seeing vague scurrying figures getting on with essential but unimportant jobs like serving his meals and dusting his rooms. He was stupid, yes, in the particular way that very clever people can be stupid, and maybe he had all the tact of an avalanche and was as self-centered as a tornado, but it would never have occurred to him that children were important enough to be unkind to. From long white hair to curly boots, Treatle was a wizard’s wizard. He had the appropriate long bushy eyebrows, spangled robe and patriarchal beard that was only slightly spoiled by the yellow nicotine stains (wizards are celibate but, nevertheless, enjoy a good cigar).

“It will all become clear to you when you grow up,” he said. “It’s an amusing idea, of course, a nice play on words. A female wizard! You might as well invent a male witch!”

“Warlocks,” said Esk.

“Pardon me?”

“My granny says men can’t be witches,” said Esk. “She says if men tried to be witches they’d be wizards.”

“She sounds a very wise woman,” said Treatle.

“She says women should stick to what they’re good at,” Esk went on.

“Very sensible of her.”

“She says if women were as good as men they’d be a lot better!”

Treatle laughed.

“She’s a witch,” said Esk, and added in her mind: there, what do you think of that, Mr. so-called cleverwizard?

“My dear good young lady, am I supposed to be shocked? I happen to have a great respect for witches.” Esk frowned. He wasn’t supposed to say that.

“You have?”

“Yes indeed. I happen to believe that witchcraft is a fine career, for a woman. A very noble calling.”

“You do? I mean, it is?”

“Oh yes. Very useful in rural districts for, for people who are—having babies, and so forth. However, witches are not wizards. Witchcraft is Nature’s way of allowing women access to the magical fluxes, but you must remember it is not high magic.”

“I see. Not high magic,” said Esk grimly.

“Oh no. Witchcraft is very suitable for helping people through life, of course, but—”

“I expect women aren’t really sensible enough to be wizards,” said Esk. “I expect that’s it, really.”

“I have nothing but the highest respect for women,” said Treatle, who hadn’t noticed the fresh edge to Esk’s tone. “They are without parallel when, when—”

“For having babies and so forth?”

“There is that, yes,” the wizard conceded generously. “But they can be a little unsettling at times. A little too excitable. High magic requires great clarity of thought, you see, and women’s talents do not lie in that direction. Their brains tend to overheat. I am sorry to say there is only one door into wizardry and that is the main gate at Unseen University and no woman has ever passed through it.”

“Tell me,” said Esk, “what good is high magic, exactly?”

Treatle smiled at her. “High magic, my child,” he said, “can give us everything we want.”

“Oh.”

“So put all this wizard nonsense out of your head, all right?” Treatle gave her a benevolent smile. “What is your name, child?”

“Eskarina.”

“And why do you go to Ankh, my dear?”

“I thought I might seek my fortune,” muttered Esk, “but I think perhaps girls don’t have fortunes to seek. Are you sure wizards give people what they want?”

“Of course. That is what high magic is for.”

“I see.”

The whole caravan was traveling only a little faster than walking pace. Esk jumped down, pulled the staff from its temporary hiding place among the bags and pails on the side of the wagon, and ran back along the line of carts and animals. Through her tears she caught a glimpse of Simon peering from the back of the wagon, an open book in his hands. He gave her a puzzled smile and started to say something, but she ran on and veered off the track.

Scrubby whinbushes scratched her legs as she scrambled up a clay bank and then she was running free across a barren plateau, hemmed in by the orange cliffs. She didn’t stop until she was good and lost but the anger still burned brightly.

She had been angry before, but never like this; normally anger was like the red flame you got when the forge was first lit, all glow and sparks, but this anger was different—it had the bellows behind it, and had narrowed to the tiny blue-white flame that cuts iron. It made her body tingle. She had to do something about it or burst.

Why was it that when she heard Granny ramble on about witchcraft she longed for the cutting magic of wizardry, but whenever she heard Treatle speak in his high-pitched voice she would fight to the death for witchcraft?

She’d be both, or none at all. And the more they intended to stop her, the more she wanted it.

She’d be a witch and a wizard too. And she would show them.

Equal Rites, Terry Pratchett

#esk #equal rites #discworld #terry pratchett

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leftistfeminista · 7 months ago

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What are the driving forces behind this development, and what does it tell us about the transformations that are taking place in the global economy and in the social position of women? Answers to these questions have varied, but it is my objective to demonstrate that, while this new surge of violence takes different forms, a common denominator is the devaluation of women’s lives and labor that globalization promotes. In other words, the new violence against women is rooted in structural trends that are constitutive of capitalist development and state power as such, in all time periods.

Capitalist development begins with a war on women. The witch hunts of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries in Europe and the New World led to the deaths of thousands. As I wrote in my 2004 book Caliban and the Witch, this historically unprecedented phenomenon was a central element of the process that Marx defined as primitive accumulation, for it destroyed a universe of female subjects and practices that stood in the way of the nascent system’s main requirements: the accumulation of a massive workforce and the imposition of a more constraining discipline of labor. The naming of women as witches and the persecution of them for their witchcraft paved the way for the confinement of women in Europe to unpaid domestic labor. It legitimated their subordination to men in and beyond the family. It gave the state control over their reproductive capacity, guaranteeing the creation of generations of new workers. In this way, the witch hunts constructed a specifically capitalist, patriarchal order that has continued into the present, though it has been constantly adjusted in response to women’s resistance and the changing needs of the labor market.

From the tortures and executions to which women accused of witchcraft were subjected, other women soon learned that they would have to be obedient and silent, and would have to accept hard labor and men’s abuses, in order to be socially accepted. Until the eighteenth century, those who fought back might be condemned to the “scold’s bridle,” a metal and leather contraption, also used to muzzle slaves, that enclosed the wearer’s head and, if she attempted to speak, lacerated her tongue. Gender-specific forms of violence were also perpetrated on American plantations where by the eighteenth century (per Ned Sublette and Constance Sublette’s 2015 study The American Slave Coast) masters’ sexual assaults on female slaves had turned into a systematic politics of rape, as planters attempted to replace the importation of slaves from Africa with a local breeding industry centered in Virginia.

Violence against women did not, of course, disappear with the end of the witch hunts or with the abolition of slavery. On the contrary: It was normalized. The sterilization of women of color, poor women, and women who practiced their sexuality outside marriage continued into the 1960s. Similarly, until feminists forced its recognition, rape in the family did not exist, as far as the state was concerned. As Giovanna Franca Dalla Costa pointed out in Un lavoro d’amore (The Work of Love, 1978), violence has always been present as a subtext, a possibility, in the nuclear family, because men, through their wages, have been given the power to supervise women’s unpaid domestic labor, to use women as their servants, and to punish their refusal of this work. This is why domestic violence perpetrated by men was, until recently, not considered a crime. In parallel with the state’s legitimation of parents’ right to punish their children, who must be trained in obedience so that they’ll be tractable workers, domestic violence against women was tolerated by the courts and the police as a legitimate response to women’s noncompliance in their domestic duties.

It’s essential to emphasize that violence against women is a key element in this new global war not only because of the horror it evokes or the messages it sends, but also because of what women represent in their capacity to keep their communities together and, equally importantly, to defend noncommercial conceptions of security and wealth. In Africa and India, for instance, until recently, women had access to communal land and devoted a good part of their workday to subsistence farming. But both communal land tenure and subsistence agriculture have come under heavy institutional attack, criticized by the World Bank as one of the causes of global poverty, the argument being that land is a “dead asset” unless it is legally registered and used as collateral to obtain bank loans with which to start some entrepreneurial activity.

#marxism-feminism #women's rights #Silvia Federici #VIOLENCE AGAINST WOMEN #femicide #primitive accumulation

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cordeliahrose · 2 years ago

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Aphrodite

Content warning: Because of the deity being discussed in this post, there are talkings of sex and sexuality under the cut.

Who is Aphrodite?

Aphrodite is the Greek goddess of love, beauty, desire, passion, pleasure, sexuality, fertility, and procreation. She has many epithets, or titles, that relate her to other aspects as well.

Antheia - The blooming, Friend of flowers

Anadyomene - She who rose from the sea

Ambologera - Delayer of old age

Aphrogenea - Foam born

Apostrophia - Expeller of sinful desires

Areia - The warlike

Callipygos - Of the beautiful buttocks

Charidotes - Giver of joy

Elikoblepharus - She with fluttering eyelids

Eleemon - Merciful

Eratoplucamus - Lovely haired

Gamelia - She who resides over marriage

Morpho - The fair shaped, Of shapely form

Nicephorus - Bringer of victory

Ourania - Heavenly

Pandemos - Common to all people, Of all people

Panmorphilos - Lover of all shapes

Peitho - Persuasion

Pontia - Of the sea

Philomeides - Laughter loving

Philopaneia - Lover of all

These are just some of her many names. She has many more epithets, including newer ones applied through UPG and modern practice.

Aphrodite and the Moon

This section is entirely UPG

I associate Aphrodite with the moon, more specifically, the moon's cycle. I do not see her as *the* moon goddess, but rather as having an aspect of the moon. I see her as the cycle the moon follows. There’s a few factors that contribute to this UPG of mine.

The first being that the moon’s cycle and a woman’s cycle are roughly the same length in time. I guess here it’s important to note that I am female, and a part of my work with Aphrodite has been centered around that.

The second is that the moon controls the tides. Aphrodite is considered a sea goddess. But my association goes a little deeper than that. I have always heavily associated the ocean and its movements with Aphrodite, beyond just her usual ‘risen from the sea’ aspect. I don’t see her as the personification of the sea, or *the* ocean deity, but as the movements of the ocean. The waves, the tides, the things washed up on the shore in the waves, the feeling of a wave pulling and pushing the water as you stand in it. \

I really began to understand this association when I started working with the moon phases, and learning about how to live and plan by them. A book I highly recommend to learn about this subject is Lunar Living by Kirsty Gallagher.

Offerings for Aphrodite.

Chocolate

Honey

Fresh Fruits

Cherries

Apples

Olive oil

Water

Apple juice

Wine, especially red

Teas infused with herbs associated with her

Or just any tea

Fruit and/or herb infused water

Roses

Jasmine

Myrtle

Cinnamon sticks*

Orchids*

Love letters (to yourself, or to someone else)

Jewelry

Seashells

Devotional Acts

Self care

Morning / night beauty routines

Write love letters to yourself or to someone else

Visit the ocean if possible

Practice gratitude

Practice self confidence

Listen to music that makes you feel confident

Listen to music that reminds you of Aphrodite

Practice self acceptance

Tell your loved ones you and appreciate them

An act of kindness toward a stranger

Give compliments to yourself or to someone else

Watch a romance movie

Read Sappho’s poetry

Read poetry about love, romance, or sexuality

Read poetry dedicated to her

Explore your sexuality

Learn about the important of practicing safe sex

Pleasure yourself

Read a romance novel

Read an erotica novel

Care for your mental and physical self

Learn about the ocean

Read her myths

Read modern retellings of her myths

Write retellings of her myths

Write poetry or song dedicated to her

Practice cyclical living (by the moon phases)*

Practice sea focused witchcraft

Dance

Create a playlist dedicated to her

Meditate and ask her to be present

Other Aspects of Aphrodite

People often forget, especially with the more popular and well known deities, that they can have aspects most would view as negative.

Aphrodite isn’t just the goddess of love and beauty. She also resides over the negative aspects of her associations. Jealousy, obsession, clinginess, heartbreak, self-centeredness, manipulation.

This isn’t to say that working with her will bring those things. You can work with her to get past these things or move them out of your life just as you would any other aspect of her.

Anything in this post marked with the symbol * means that it is my own UPG

#paganism #paganblr #aphrodite #greek gods #aphrodite deity #hellenic polytheism #deity work #deities #deity #aphrodite worship

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simplyfandomish · 1 year ago

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Imagine you’re at Hogwarts for the Triwizard Tournament...

Simplyfandomish’s Masterlist

Words: 2189

Warnings: None!

Fandom: Harry Potter

A great hush came over the student body of Hogwarts: School of Witchcraft and Wizardry when the great Headmaster Dumbledore raised his hands over his large golden podium and became to speak with a booming voice. “Now that we're all settled in and sorted, I'd like to make an announcement.”

The students - minus the First Years - all glanced at each other. With how the school years have been with the arrival of The Boy Who Lived, who knows what warning, rules, and regulations the Headmaster was going to say.

The Weasley unashamedly stared at Harry with knowing eyes and smirks.

Harry ignored their eyes.

“This castle will not only be your home this year, but home to some very special guests as well. You see Hogwarts has been chosen to host a legendary event: The Triwizard tournament!”

Murmurs and excited whispers bounced off the stone walls of the Great Hall at the news. “Now for those of you who do not know, the Triwizard tournament brings together three schools for a series of magical contests, but for the first time ever the Ministry of Magic has granted acceptance for a fourth school to be entered!”

More excited chatter erupted across the four houses.

“What school could it be?”

“There’s only five other schools outside of the European continent.”

“Maybe the school in Japan?”

“I hope it’s Castelobruxo! I love Brazilian food!”

Dumbledore hushed the students again.

“From each school a single contestant is selected to compete. Now let me be clear, if chosen you stand alone, and trust me when I say these contests are not for the faint hearted, but more of that later.”

The room turned ominous at his decree. But many continued to vibrate in excitement for the tournament.

In particular, a pale blonde boy in green robes puffed his chest out in pride. His cronies grinned at him.

“Let us begin introductions, shall we?” Dumbledore smiled widely as he waved his hands towards the large wooden doors of the Great Hall. “Please join me in welcoming the lovely ladies and gentlemen of the Beauxbatons Academy of Magic and their headmistress Madame Maxime!”

The large doors burst open as a group of girls in blue silk uniforms pranced in a triangular form. As they made their way down the center aisle they sighed dramatically and leaned to the sides of the lined dinner tables. To add to the show, the females released a swarm of blue butterflies as they made it halfway down the hall.

Some of the female students of Hogwarts watched the Beauxbatons girls with distaste and jealousy and elbowed the drooling boys sitting next to them.

“They’re all veelas! Of course they’re all staring at them like pieces of meat.” Angela Johnson of Gryffindor huffed. She made a face when the blonde girl leading the parade of butterflies and sighs smiled in a knowing way.

Other than the drooling attention the boys gave the girls, all attention went to the large woman that made her way down the aisle. She was large, and that word was not taken lightly! She was at least a good three feet taller than their half-giant gamekeeper, Hagrid.

“Blimey, that's one big woman.” A student whispered as they watched Madame Maxine walk by.

After the ladies finished their entrance, the male students of Beauxbatons school sauntered in. They mimicked the same ballet arms, hops, and sways as their female colleagues, but with less sighing.

This time it was the male student body of Hogwarts that had to elbow the females out of their stupors.

A pair of Ravenclaw girls fanned themselves and held onto each other for support.

A Slytherin girl actually fell off the bench when a handsome raven haired student winked at her.

“You were saying?” Lee Jordan of Gryffindor teased Angela after he elbowed her.

As the school’s last pizazz to their entrance was a young blonde girl in a pink and white leotard. She did an impressive show of acrobatics and a ribbon dance down the aisle, before ending in an impressive flip beside the same blonde that led the pack. They looked similar - Sisters, perhaps. The French school bowed in perfect synchrony after their performance - The Entire Hogwarts student body climbed to their feet in applause and whistled.

“Encore!” Someone yelled from the crowd.

Professor McGonagall shook her head in disappointment.

Dumbeldore greeted the giant Headmistress and showed her to her seat at the professor table. He turned back to his students. “And now our friends from the North, please greet the proud sons of Durmstrang and their high master Igor Karkaroff!”

These boys were the exact opposite of the Beauxbatons’ boys - they were large and rugged, with a more mountain man appearance rather than the delicate, pretty princely types of Beauxbatons.

They all wore red blood uniforms with variously colored fur coats, making them even more intimidating; All marched into the Hall with heavy wooden staffs that they banged and stabbed into the floor like war drums. Sparks erupted from the ends of their staffs, before the students turned and began a choreographed fight with their staffs.

“Blimey it’s him!” Ronald Weasley of Gryffindor swooned as he spotted his role model (and man crush). “Viktor Krum!”

The legendary Quidditch Seeker marched beside the Durmstrag headmaster, both wearing fierce, intimidating looks.

To finish their entrance, a boy blew fire to create a fire dragon to swirl around their High Master to further their intimidation tactics.

The two headmasters greeted each other with a pat on the back and a small smile, before they separated and Dumbledore went back to his podium. “And now for our final and our most special guest, our friends from across the pond, from Salem, Massachusetts: Quendrum Academy and their Headmistress Agatha Hallewell!” he gestured towards the doors again, but nothing happened.

Brows furrows and mutters of confusion erupted throughout the Great Hall. Some students rose to their feet to spy anything out of the ordinary.

Suddenly, the floating candles in the Great Hall dimmed slowly, almost becoming extinguished, and fog began to seep from the fireplaces.

Students of Ravenclaw and Slytherin Houses inched away from the fireplaces beside them. Gryffindor and Hufflepuff students stood instead to see the fireplaces.

Screams erupted when the fog sparked and large green flames erupted in the hearths.

Students and teachers feared the worst. Was someone Flooing in??

Cackles and jeers then erupted throughout the Great Hall, but still no one was seen-!

The large doors of the Great Hall finally burst open, nearly ripping the hinges out of the stone and a brigade of shadowed figures with pointy hats on brooms soared in the room.

Some of the witches from Quendrum Academy messed with the students, even the foreign ones. They grabbed their uniform hats, pulled on robe hoods, and snagged food from people’s plates. Students ducked and yelped to avoid getting a face full of broomstick straw.

The witches cackled as they messed up the Beauxbatons’ perfect hairstyles with their reckless flying.

The other bunches of witches simply high-fived some students or used their wands to rain down gold sparkles.

The new First Year students especially loved the sparkle showers.

A group of five soared into the hall in a ‘V’ formation, keeping ranks as they circled the entire interior of the Hall before flying low to the ground. Four of the witches flipped back as the leading female came to an abrupt halt in front of the Headmaster and floated in front of the pedestal.

“Agatha, lovely to see you again.” Dumbledore greeted with a warm smile.

The Headmistress smirked underneath her large witches hat. “A pleasure it is indeed, Albus.” She grinned widely. She was tall and thin with a perfect face and salt-and-pepper gray hair. Her blue eyes twinkled as she hopped off the broomstick and waved her wand to brighten the room again. “My girls and I are honored for you to have us.” At her words, her students floated down from the high ceilings and landed on the floor, benches, and tabletops.

With normal light returned, the audience could see the entire Quendrum student body. They all wore black and gold uniforms with long cloaks pinned around their necks with golden brooches of the school insignia in the front. They all wore classic witch hats with large brims and tall points, but all were vastly different from the other. All were decorated in wild, different ways.

One girl had cobwebs with a live spider hanging off the brim of her hat (the little spier did a small curtsy), while another girl wore a pastel colored hat with clumps of colorful flowers and lots and lots of lace. Another girl had a leather hat with intricate cloth patterns sewn into the fabric, two large golden thunderbird feathers and tiny colorful beaded charms swayed with every movement she made.

Half of the Gryffindor table gawked up at the young witch that nearly stepped in the bowl of mashed potatoes upon landing. You chuckled in embarrassment, “Sorry about that.”

Harry couldn’t help but stare at the pretty witch. The details of your face were delicately illuminated by the small balls of fire that floated within the small glass spheres that hung around the brim of her hat.

“Girls!” Mistress Hallewell called out.

The students of Quendrum fell in line and made their way up the center aisle.

Chuckles erupted when a witch in a terrarium themed hat slipped on a spoon and landed roughly on the bench.

The little frog housed within the pointed glass top jostled in its wood and mossy home and croaked in annoyance. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” She lifted a hand up and gently rubbed the glass to soothe her poor familiar.

Neville and other Gryffindors gawked at the terrarium the witch wore. Neville’s friends were positive he had just fallen in love right then and there.

Ironic since a witch in a bright pink hat with red roses, glittery hearts, and dove wings helped the witch with the frog to her feet.

You snickered at your friend as you carefully stepped down off the dining table, jumping when your free hand was grabbed and you met bright green eyes that shimmered like emeralds.

“T-Thank you.” You nodded in gratitude as the pretty boy helped you off the table and onto the floor.

Harry’s friends smirked and grinned up at their friend at the interaction. The twins elbowed and smacked each other as they couldn't believe their eyes.

Harry James Potter?? Having game with a pretty foreign witch?? Who knew??

Harry knew exactly what he had done, but did he care that his friends were going to chew him out and rip him apart tonight in teases and jests? Not one bit!

Not when his emerald green eyes stared into your illuminated (e/c) eyes.

The little glass spheres chimed and twinkled like fairies with every as you stood back on the ground.

“C’mon, (Y/n).” The same pink hat witch with hearts walked past with the frog witch. She also smirked at the interaction.

Your little love bubble popped and you remembered where you were. “Uhh t-thanks again.” You couldn’t fight the rush of butterflies that filled your stomach and your face expressed those feelings.

Harry nodded with a small smile - still star struck.

As you joined your covenant, Harry slinked back into his seat, but his eyes never tore from you.

Not even when Ron, the twins, or any of his other friends grinned at him.

At least his female friends made their curiosity and excitement less obvious.

“Now that we’ve all been introduced, let’s give our foreign friends a proper Hogwarts welcome!” Dumbledore whipped out his wand and flicked it, golden words appeared from the air and a small pointer bounced on the words as the Hogwarts student body began their performance.

“Hogwarts, Hogwarts, hoggy warty Hogwarts, teach us something please. Whether we be old and bald, or young with scabby knees our heads could do with filling with some interesting stuff.”

The foreign schools all had different reactions when the students began to sing.

Beauxbatons was gathered on the right side of the hall and exchanged pathetic looks with one another.

Durmstrang stood in the center and kept their usual unamused stone faces, however some fought off smirks and snorts.

“For now they're bare and full of air, dead flies and bits of fluff, do teach us things worth knowing.” Students didn’t know the words - or purposefulyl sung the wrong - others were incredibly off key and off beat. from somehwere in teh ocean of Hogwarts students someone sang it like funeral march.

Quendrum was gathered on the left and weren’t afraid to hide their expressions. Some danced in a goofy way, others stood expressionless or grinned and chuckled.

Harry flushed in embarrassment when his eyes met yours again; His arms were raised in the air to sway along with his colleagues as they sang.

You covered your mouth to hide your giggles, but Harry loved the way your cheeks rose and eyes squinted with your grin.

“Bring back what we've forgot! Just do your best! We'll do the rest and learn until our brains all rot!”

Harry ducked his head when Ron and Lee wrapped their arms around his shoulders and began to rock him back and forth to the beat. You laughed again.

#harry potter #harry potter x reader #harry potter imagine #harry potter and the goblet of fire #beauxbatons #durmstrang #hogwarts

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