#the worst witch fanfiction

[the-quiet-winds]

A plan is enacted.

[rosie-love98]

About The “Witch Of Erised”:

I’ve been trying to conjure about stories revolving around Severus Snape (”Harry Potter” Films) and Constance Hardbroom (1998 “The Worst Witch”). One plot would be them dealing with an OC, Erebus, the legendary “Witch Of Erised”. Bascically a witch who had been imprisoned in the enchanted mirror for centuries.

 With this, Snape would be confronted on where his heart truly lies; with Constance or with the late Lily Evans-Potter.

Initially, this plot-point would’ve been a part of Snape and Hardbroom’s reunion/rescue with their long-lost son Nick Hobbes (”Weirdsister College”). But with the subplot of Hobbes (along with Harry Potter and Mildred Hubble_ discovering his origins, along with R/The Cabal (”Hogwarts Mysteries”) hunting down a ressurected Snape (long story short, the had found a way to revive Snape prior to the events of this story), there’s alot to work with...

While a part of me want to have R/The Cabal somehow use Erebus/The Witch Of Erised to get Snape to join their side, another part of me is thinking of something else. Snape and Hardbroom could’ve dealt with Erebus/The Witch Of Erised when they were still dating and that confrontation could’ve drove Snape and Hardbroom to give marriage a try.

Which would sounds better? 

-Erebus/The Witch Of Erised being used by R/The Cabal.

-Erebus/The Witch Of Erised being a seperate plot but BEFORE the events with R/The Cabal. --> The incident driving Snape and Hardbroom to marry.

-Erebus/The Witch Of Erised being a seperate plot AFTER R/The Cabal when Hardbroom confronts Snape about him truly loving her.

[tilda-rothery]

Mildred crinkled her nose at that. Miss Hardbroom sweeter than a doughnut? Mildred thought not. There was nothing sweet about Miss Hardbroom.

Adults were weird.

In which Mildred spies on Miss Hardbroom and Miss Pentangle – after curfew – to watch them fly their brooms against the backdrop of the moon.

A little – it's almost 6k so maybe not little – fluffy piece for y'all.

[crow-raven-crow]

i saw that your thinking about doing Hecate hardbroom x reader,so I was wondering if you could write about how Hecate dominates over the submissive reader like the reader is 18+ and always getting into trouble and never listen to the teachers so Hecate takes matters into her own hand when reader gets another detention and tries to skip out on it leading in a chase scene and so on and so forth, it would be nice thank you!♥️♥️♥️♥️

𝐋𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐒𝐨 𝐒𝐨𝐨𝐧?

𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭 - [𝐧𝐬𝐟𝐰 𝟏𝟖+]

✧･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧ :══════⊹⊹══════: ✧･ﾟ｡˚☾.･✧

𝐇𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦 𝐱 𝐓𝐀 𝐟!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: ~2.8k 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬/𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: slight chase, description of anxiety, late/tardiness anxiety, NSFW, fingering, edging, dom!Hecate, sub!Reader, pinning kink, biting, marking kink, slight degradation, alludes to future sex, slight begging kink

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: see above

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

AO3 link in title ✧･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧ :══════⊹⊹══════: ✧･ﾟ｡˚☾.･✧

✧･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧ :══════⊹⊹══════: ✧･ﾟ｡˚☾.･✧

𝐚/𝐧: so def changed it a bit ! i hope that's okay;;; but it was really cool looking into this character. I know nothing about the show, so accuracy on it is.. hit or miss.. but i might look into it after this

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You raced down the stone halls, winter's icy breath easily seeping through your coat and making your lungs still. Your heels clacked through the empty hallways, only bringing the fact that classes had already started to the forefront of your mind.

A sense of dread washed over you at the quick glance down at your watch, fully realizing just how late you were. Slipping into the classroom unnoticed would be an impossible feat now. The students always enjoyed talking to you as their spells TA, so your absence had undoubtedly drawn their attention. This was the third time in which you had been significantly late since starting at the academy, and you were hoping that the repercussions wouldn't be too bad..

You placed your hand on the doorknob, taking a quick breath in before turning it and joining the students in the room. As you walked in, their heads shot over to you, their faces breaking into welcoming smiles and causing one to meet yours. You gave them all a small wave before directing your attention to their professor, giving her a nod.

You took your coat off and quietly made your way to you desk, passing behind Ms.Cackle after leaving your things on a shelf by the door. You stopped dead in your tracks, your heart rate picking up as all air left your lungs at the sight of Hecate Hardbroom in your seat, looking at you with a raised eyebrow. You grabbed another chair, moving it directly next to her and taking a seat, nerves coming in and settling themselves within your veins.

"Good morning, Miss Y/L/N," she greeted you with a sidelong glance, her eyes sweeping over your form, and taking you in completely. She noticed the tension held at your shoulders, the slight fidgeting of your rings, and just how well you were able to dress up.. Your pants accentuated your curves, a few buttons of your shirt left unclasped to reveal just enough to tease, and the carefully chosen jewelry added a touch of elegance, bringing everything together with the glint of gold contrasting beautifully with the overall darkness of your outfit.

"Morning, Headmistress.." You bowed your head towards her as you spoke, your shoulder brushing against hers on accident as you did so. Sucking up to her, even in the slightest, seemed to work, allowing the energy between you two to level out. You gave her a small, genuine smile, finally looking at her after her surprise appearance, and turned your attention to the stack of papers that were ready for you to grade.

"Having car troubles this morning?" Her question caused your actions to falter, and a nervous chuckle escaped you as you faced the inevitable. You reached past her for a pen, one hand resting on the back of her chair, while the other hand grabbed hold of the pen, making your chest be directly in her line of sight. Her close proximity sent a shiver down your spine as you felt her breath against your neck, the warmth introducing a familiar yet thick tension between you two. Quickly refocussing on the papers, you started leaving notes and scores on each sheet.

"Yes… I'm very sorry about that.." you said, your voice holding a tinge of guilt. "I've tried to get the issue fixed, but it seems time has been against me lately." You let out a sigh as you explained yourself to her, sulking down slightly at what was to come next. You could feel her eyes burning into you as you spoke, making any remaining focus you had on the papers easily slip away.

She rose from her seat, taking her notes in her hands, and looking down at you. As she passed behind you, her hand brushed lightly across your back, leaving a trail of electricity in its wake. She placed her hands on the desk as she reached the other side, bringing her lips to your ear and whispering, "I expect to see you for detention then, hmm?"

She backed away after a few seconds, taking in the telltale blush that sat against your features and the way your lower lip was gently caught between your teeth. You finally moved to look up at her, only to be met with a wink and the sight of her walking away.

You couldn't help but wonder if she was truly joking.. Though you hadn't interacted with her much during your time here, there was always a certain energy that coursed between the two of you. This interaction was nothing less than the ones before, creating that familiar warmth to pool between your thighs, leaving your mind in a flustered state with desire swirling in your eyes.

~~

You made your final round to the teachers lounge, collecting all the mail for Ms.Cackle. The day had gotten warmer, but there was still a lingering frost clinging against the features of the academy. You passed students in the halls, waving and having small conversations with some as you made your way towards the academy's exit.

A familiar voice boomed through the main hall, your name bouncing against the walls and piercing everyones ears, successfully causing everyone to freeze. You turned around slowly, not knowing exactly what she wanted from you. You saw her at the other end of the hall, her pace fast and demanding, making you remember her statement from earlier this morning and seeing that she was actually quite serious about it.

Glancing down at your watch, your hear sank as you realized that it was well past detention, and shot your gaze back up to her. Panic set in as you saw her fast approaching figure, and you knew you had to act quickly. There was only so much you could do, at this point.. After taking in your surroundings, you took in a sharp breath and ran to your right, hoping to escape the interaction entirely for just one more day.

The sound of her heels echoed as they met the stone floor, the clacks growing louder and closer with every step that you both took. You rounded the corner and ran for the nearest unlocked classroom. Every locked door made doom melt into your chest, your breaths quickening when each one seemed to be a dead end. Finally finding one that was unlocked, you rushed inside, slamming the door shut and resting your back against the hard wood. Your breath felt loud in your current situation, each intake of air making your senses heighten to try and listen out for her.

Your ears rang with your rapidly beating heart, the beat so hard that you were sure it would jump out of your chest as adrenaline coursed through your veins. You pressed a hand over your mouth, your ears straining to hear her approaching footsteps. You shut your eyes tightly, focusing on each click of her heels. The footsteps came to a stop just outside the room you were in, and it set your heart plummeting to your feet, making the rest of the world fizzle and fade away.

The sound of her heels picked back up again, the voice of another professor present in the hallway, and both sounds gradually faded away moments later. You let out a shaky breath of relief, feeling a sense of calm sweep in after the storm you thought you'd face. You turned around, taking hold of the doorknob and waiting a few seconds to ensure that she was truly gone. Just as you were about to leave the room, you were spun around, your hands pinned above your head, and felt a warm body press firmly against your own.

"Leaving so soon?" Her voice radiated over your entire being, her presence alone captivating you in a trance. Her perfume left you dizzy, her warm breath against your neck sending a shiver down your spine. Her tone was curious, but it didn't take away from the overarching dominance found within it. "I didn't see you in detention.. Care to explain why?"

Your heart pounded in your ears as your mind struggled to keep up with your body's reactions. Her lips gently traced along your jawline, her free hand coming to grab your waist, coaxing a whimper to escape your lips. She'd never done this before, but it was something that you could quickly find yourself getting lost in. "I do expect an answer when I ask a question, sweet girl.."

She placed a few light kisses against your neck, the touch leaving your skin tingling and your desire for her growing. You sucked in a breath as she bit down slightly, smoothing her tongue over the area right after. Your voice was shaky, more breathy than you would've liked, and it told the headmistress just how much she was impacting you.

"I-I didn't.. I didn't think you were serious-"

"Of course, I was.." She pulled away just enough to look at you, thinking about exactly what she should do with you. Your pupils were dilated and your chest heaved slightly. Your back arched against the door as she moved farther back, missing the warmth that she provided you and the touch that you oh so craved. "You still need to be punished.. don't you?"

"Yes.." You answered quickly, desperation apparent in your voice and features. You were acting so delicious for her, the way that your body reacted to her touch alone was enough to give her a high. She leaned in close, her lips ghosting above your own. You tried capturing them in a kiss, her grip around your wrists and waist only tightening and preventing you from doing so.

"You want to be taught a lesson? Taken care of, hmm? You've been so good here so far.. so I'll go easy on you this time.."

"Please-" Her lips crashed into yours, her hand wrapping around to your back and pulling you towards her, arching your back into her body and allowing her complete control over you. Her other hand finally let go of your wrists, allowing your hands to come to her shoulders. It traced up your waist, untucking your shirt before tangling her fingers in your hair.

A moan escaped you as she pulled, breaking the kiss and feeling her lips move against your jawline, working their way down to your neck. You tilted your head, giving her more access to the canvas of skin you had to provide. She could feel your heart racing as she met your pulse point, her smile evident against your skin. The marks she left were dark, making her claim over you and showing the world just exactly who you belonged to.

Her hands circled to your front, undoing the rest of the buttons and tossing the garment somewhere to the side. Your fingers worked through her hair, taking apart the bun and watching the long, dark locks flow down past her shoulders. Her lips met yours again as you worked on her shirt, your fingers smoothing over her pale skin and lifting the fabric over her head.

She looked at you, her gaze darkening at the sight of more of your body, untouched, sensitive, trembling, and all for her.. Her hands moved up your torso, flattening over the lace of your bra, circling to the back before undoing the clip and letting it fall. Her mouth watered at the sight of you, her hands coming up to squeeze your breasts after pressing you against the door again.

You took a sharp breath in at the contact, your bottom lip coming between your teeth and your eyebrows furrowing at the beginnings of pleasure she was about to show you. Her lips trailed down your neck, a long kiss being placed in the valley between your breasts before her tongue swiped over your right bud.

A low whimper left you, encouraging her to take your nipple into her mouth and suck and lick the skin there. You needed more, her touch made your mind fuzzy as more moans escaped your lips. She seemed to get the message, her lips coming back up to yours as you felt one of her hands work on the button of your pants.

She slipped her hand under the fabric, her cold fingers meeting your wet slit and making your hips buck. You threw your head back as a low groan left your lips, her fingers working agonizingly slow through your folds, collecting your juices before moving back to flatten against your clit.

The flame that was growing in your abdomen was dangerous, your fingers digging into her shoulders in pleasure. Her fingers slowly circled against the sensitive bud, each movement being so delicious you were sure each one could send you quickly over the edge. Her actions grew in pace, your moans becoming louder and your blush encompassing your entire body, making it hot, burn, as she watched you come undone from her touch alone.

Just when you thought you were going to cum, her fingers moved away from your clit, making whimpers and pleas escape your lips in a desperate attempt to make her continue.

"Such a needy little thing…" She placed soft kisses against your face, the gentleness in the actions heavily contrasting the growing need that coursed through your veins. Her movements picked back up, leading you back to your peak only to stop once more, repeating over and over until you were putty against her fingers. "Learned your lesson yet, sweet thing?"

"Yes- Yes, please.. Let me- Make me cum- please.. pleaseplease-" Your words were mumbled through your lips, desperation and need evident in your tone as your pleading eyes looked into her own. Any and all composure that you had just hours prior was nowhere in sight, your body being held up by her hands and the door, your shirt gone and your pants wrinkled and folded away, a small sheen of sweat and a wild filter of blush covering your skin.

"Only because you asked so beautifully.." Her fingers left your clit, leaving you confused and ready to beg for just a second, before you felt them plunge into you core. The action nearly made you fall over, the suddenness and overwhelming rapture of getting what you desperately craved and needed making you lose balance slightly. They slipped in with ease, your arousal coating her hand and your inner thighs. The action made you see stars, her fingers pumping in and out of you at a rough pace and making moans leave you with every thrust.

You thrusted your hips in time with her fingers, making them course deeper and deeper into you. Her fingers curled, touching your sweet spot and making your walls clench around her. Her thumb moved against your clit, pulling against the knot building in your core.

"I-I'm.. mmph- I- please, Hecate, please- let me-" You kept getting cut off by your own moans, the pleasure she was giving you becoming all consuming as you chased the high that was denied to you times over.

"Cum for me.. cum against my fingers, beautiful.." Her voice alone was enough for the rope to snap, sending you crumbling down as ecstasy took you in its hold. Your body shuddered, your walls clenching around her finders as you came, whimpers and moans leaving you as she helped you ride out your high.

After a few moments, she pulled her fingers from your core. You watched her as you rested against the door with half lidded eyes, place her fingers into her mouth and suck, groaning at the taste of you. The sight alone reignited the flame within you, reminding you that you could never get enough of the headmistress.

You reached out to her, one of your hands resting against her cheek while the other met her shoulder. You pulled her in, kissing her with a newfound ferocity, your tongues dancing together and muffling the sounds that came from the both of you.

She pulled away after a few moments, her lips just above yours as she spoke. "Have you learned your lesson?"

You waited a second to answer, your eyes filtering between her own before a mischievous smirk met your lips. You kissed her again, meeting her lips then moving against her jawline, before kissing just under her ear. Your voice was a low whisper, desire never fading from it as you spoke to her. "I don't think I have.. I might need another lesson, Headmistress.."

Her lips met yours again, her arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you as close as possible. She led you back from the door, turning your body and pinning you against a desk. She pushed your shoulder down, signaling you to lay against the cool wood, and the moment your back was flush against it, you knew it was going to be a long night.

~~

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𝐚/𝐧: TEEHEE. Hecate Hardbroom? I've never heard of her until I got this request, but she seems like an interesting character.. I hope I did this justice because I know absolutely nothing about this universe other than my little amount of research.

I'm slowly catching up on my requests ! I finished all of the ones that I talked about in that update I did last month, and I've put the ones I'm currently focusing on up on my masterlist !

I'm traveling this weekend to go see HOZIER!!!! so I might be a little mia since I'm driving BUTTTTTT if you want to see more of me, I'm very active on my twitter hehe

I hope you all enjoyed ! It was kinda nice looking into a completely new character

x,

~ 𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐯𝐲𝐧

✧･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧ :══════⊹⊹══════: ✧･ﾟ｡˚☾.･✧

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: (tagged anyone who asked/wanted to be on the "all works" taglist)

@autumn-leaves-chasing-breeze @weemssapphic @readingtheentrails @finnja555 @barbarasstar @vendocrap8008 @gwendolinechristieiscute @lilfartbox1 @agathaandgwenslesbian @lvinhs @elvira-dear @kimiinou

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[impossibleflowerhandsbakery]

heyyy tww fans.

I am looking for some Hecate Hardbroom (preferable Hicsqueak) fanfiction that takes place *before* Season 4.

It’s getting exhausting seeing Hecate suffer for 30 years in that castle and I just want something fresh. I know I started some good ones before Season 4 came out but I cannot remember any of them, lol.

I don’t really like AU’s but if y’all got some really good ones, I would read them.

[stobinesque]

let me be the void you fill, pt. 1

@steddie-week day 4: familiar | ~2k words | Teen and up title from "I / Me / Myself" by Will Wood

On his way up the path to the small hut he’d gotten Dustin to draw a crude map to, Steve was stopped in his tracks by a lanky black cat that appeared out of nowhere—and then promptly proceeded to wind her way between his legs.

"Well hello there," he said, bending down to extend his hand towards her nose. 

The cat gave his fingers one short, decisive sniff, before bumping her head against them, and resuming her circuitous turn betwixt his ankles.

Steve laughed. "So you mean to hold me hostage, then, is that it?" 

The cat paused to look up at him, features set into what Steve guessed would be a look of utter disdain on a human.

"Okay, okay, bad joke, huh?" The cat slipped out from under his feet just long enough for Steve to crouch all the way down and present his palm to her again. The cat purred this time, and nudged her head up against his palm more firmly, staying still long enough to allow him to pet the top of her head, and scratch behind her ears. "I'm Steve," he offered. "And what's your name, pretty girl?"

"Miriam? Miriam! Where did you run off—oh."

Steve startled at the sudden sound, and glanced up from where the cat was now enthusiastically petting herself against him, to find a witch of about his own height rushing out the hut’s front door. They sported a head full of riotous brown curls, atop which sat a stout, felted witch's hat. In spite of the unseasonable heat, the theurgist was dressed in heavy, ruffled black skirts, and colorfully patched stockings. That had to be why their cheeks were flushed such a pretty shade of pink, right?

Steve pulled himself back up to a standing position, shaking his head as though to clear it of cobwebs. He snapped his mouth shut when he realized it had dropped open of its own accord, and glanced back down at the cat, now rubbing herself up against one leg. "So your name is Miriam?" he asked her.

The cat let out a small merp in reply, as her owner—companion?—continued to stand and stare at Steve from a few steps up the path.

🐈‍⬛🪄🔮✨🌕🧹🧙

Eddie's day had begun with a series of inauspicious events.

To start with, she had forgotten to leave fir curtains parted in just the right way before bed the night before. So instead of gradually rising with the sun as it crept in on hazy bands of light, fee'd been slapped in the face by the full force of its rays at entirely too early an hour.

And then, when she'd gone out to fetch the laundry, it was to find every single article of clothing still damp—or worse—in spite of the unusually dry heat they’d been having. That left fir with only a pair of (thankfully) threadbare, but (unfortunately) black woolen stockings, a black linen smock, and a set ruffled skirts—of which the relative breeze allowed by its shortened length at the front, was offset by the sheer quantity of its layers—to wear for the day. (The stockings, he supposed, could have been forgotten. But Eddie found themself wandering through thistle paths far too often, and unexpectedly, to not wear something on her legs every day.)

To make matters worse, the moment Miriam’d heard Eddie knocking about, she'd gone ahead and toppled over one of the cauldrons, in a way that signified today was to be a potion-making day. 

Great, so I'm going to be a puddle by midday.

Most days, Eddie could choose the direction of fir practice. But sometimes, for one reason or another—a particular rhyme of the chimes hanging in zir window, the moon hanging low and large and bloody in the night sky, a particular scent in the air—the animus of the world nudged her in a particular direction.

Those days, invariably, sucked.

But still, Eddie bustled around the small cottage—grabbing roots, and herbs, and carefully preserved insect matter—preparing for the day's task. The draught that Eddie felt fumself pushed to brew today was technically complicated, time consuming, and required the assistance of another set of hands. 

Which would be fine. If his familiar hadn't scampered off moments after knocking over the cauldron that morning.

Eddie searched high and low, and into every nook and cranny of the cramped hut—which did not want for hiding places, despite its small footprint—for his erstwhile familiar. Eventually, he had to admit defeat, and determined that she must have gone for a laze about the garden beds—even though she knew full well that they were off limits.

"Miriam?" Eddie called out as he pushed his way outside. Usually the one call was enough to have her trotting back home immediately, shame-faced and caught out. But in keeping with the day’s pattern, nothing was to be so easy. "Miriam!" Eddie called again, growing a touch frustrated. "Where did you run off t—oh." 

Eddie came to an abrupt halt just a few steps up the path from their hut, shocked still by the sight of Miriam letting someone other than themself touch her. And it wasn't just any someone. It was perhaps the most gorgeous someone Eddie had ever laid eyes on: soft brown hair that glinted gold in the sunlight, pretty pink lips rounded into a perfectly round 'O' that just begged to have something shoved between them, and…and Eddie really needed to reign in the excesses of hir thoughts. 

The honey-haired visitor straightened to a standing position and looked down at Miriam with a sweet smile on their face. "So your name is Miriam?" he asked, receiving a soft chirp of confirmation from Miriam in reply. It brought Eddie up short—most strangers didn’t address Miriam directly. Who was this person? Eddie shook his head, honing in on the most mysterious part of the tableau in front of him.

"She's letting you pet her," he marveled. "I think the last person who tried nearly got his arm chewed off for the trouble." Eddie tilted her head and looked the stranger up and down in a way that he knew would be taken for the blatant assessment it was. "She must like you." And Eddie knew that if Miriam trusted someone, then if nothing else, he should trust her—but, well: see above, re: day of inauspicious beginnings. "So what's your name, stranger?" He added just a touch of suspicion to his tone.

"Steve," came the swift reply, immediately followed with an outstretched hand, in spite of the several paces of distance still separating the two of them. "Of the town of Haring," Steve continued. As he spoke, Miriam came slinking back towards Eddie, and settled into a seated position between his feet, gaze fixed intensely at Steve.

"Okay, Steve of Haring." Eddie propped a hand on one hip, still trying to figure out what to make of this visitor. Everything about his day up ‘til now suggested there was something more going on here than met the eye. Even Miriam seemed to think so, if the way she was staring fixedly at Steve’s chest was anything to go by. But Miriam was also clearly fond of this stranger, after only moments of interaction. So there was probably nothing to fear from Steve themself, and, oh, he really needed to confirm how he should be constructing his internal narration regarding this creature— "So how else do you like to be referred to, Steve?"

"Huh?" Steve’s brow furrowed in confusion.

"Well, I can't very well keep going around calling you 'the stranger' in my head now, can I?"

Steve shrugged. "You could just think of me as ‘Steve,’" Steve said with an adorable little head tilt. 

"This is true, but it does get repetitive after a while. Which, of course, is alright, if that’s what you prefer. But I usually find that a pronoun or two often helps things along."

"Oh!" Steve snapped their fingers and pointed at Eddie with excitement at their sudden understanding. "You can use ‘he’ and ‘him’ and stuff to think and talk about me. That's what everyone else does."

"And…is that what you want everyone else to do?"

Steve shrugged. "I don't really care, I suppose. It's just…easier this way."

Eddie frowned. "And you don't think that's boring? Why limit yourself to the confines of expectation if it doesn't make you happy?"

Steve blew a gust of air between his lips and ran a hand through his hair. "I guess you could say that's part of why I'm here, really."

Eddie raised a brow. "Oh?"

Steve waved a hand as though to bat the matter away as unimportant. "Yeah, but we're getting ahead of ourselves." Steve crossed his arms over his chest and regarded Eddie with an interest all his own. "How should I be thinking about you?"

Eddie flipped a lock of hair over one shoulder, and tossed zir sauciest smile Steve's way. "You can think of me any way you like, handsome."

The bright pink flush that swept across Steve's face—and the awkward stammering that followed—were truly the highlight of Eddie's day thus far. (Unfortunately, that was an embarrassingly low bar to clear—but, on the other hand, Steve's blush-and-stammer combo had just set it at a lifetime high. Ah, Life and Her various vagaries.)

"That's not what I meant "

"Oh I know, stranger. But that is the answer to what you did mean, anyhow, so it didn't seem prudent to pass up such a delicious opportunity to be a shameless flirt."

Steve wrinkled his nose. "Charming."

"Why yes, that is one of the things you could call me," Eddie shot back with an impish grin. 

Steve laughed. "You're a bit of an asshole, aren't you?"

"I've been called worse," fee replied with a small shrug. "...and a lot better," she added with an exaggerated wink.

"Okay, but, really, how should I—? What should I—?"

Eddie waved a dismissive hand of their own. "Think of—and refer to—me however you like: he, them, hers, zir," Eddie shrugged. "It's all the same to me. Though I must confess I've grown partial to ‘fee, fi, fo, fum’."

The bright, bursting bubble of a giggle this provoked could have fueled Eddie's strongest cheering charm. "You can't be serious!"

"Deadly so, I'm afraid. Although in practice it’s more like ‘fee, fum, fir, fos’."  

"Hmmm, okay. I like it." Steve reached up to tuck his hair back behind both ears at once. "What about your name?"

"What of it, pretty boy?" Eddie asked, just to see the rosy blush spread across the apples of Steve's cheeks again.

"Could I have it?"

"Could you have it? What, to keep? Are you a faerie, Steve? If you're a faerie you have to tell me, or else it's entrapment."

"No, I'm not a faerie. But I'm also pretty sure that's not how any of that works."

"That sounds exactly like something a faerie would say," Eddie shot back, jabbing an accusatory finger Steve’s way.

Steve shook his head, but there was a delighted grin on his face and a soft chuckle rising from his throat. "I just want to stop having to cycle through various iterations of 'hot witch,' in my own thoughts," he admitted.

"Oooh, well now I'm curious—how dirty and creative did you get there?"

Steve's smile shifted into something more like a smirk. "Mmm…'beddable horror specks'?"  

Eddie threw his head back in a wild laugh that sent fir hat flying. "I think you mean haruspex—which isn't accurate, anyway; I prefer not to go around reading rabbit entrails—but that was good!"

"And?" Steve asked with a wheedling-but-cheery, sort of tone. "Could I get a name in reward? Something to call you by, in the heat of the moment?"

"Well, I must confess that now I'm even more curious about what you’d come up with if left to your own devices—but I suppose if you must have something to scream into the rafters while I ravish you: Eddie, son and/or daughter and/or corrupted offspring of the Moon, at your service." Hat no longer on her head to tip in Steve direction, Eddie instead swept down into a low bow, one arm extended out toward Steve in invitation.

stay tuned for part two tomorrow!

[phantomstatistician]

Fandom: The Worst Witch

Sample Size: 1,839 stories

Source: AO3

[the-worst-witch-similar]

The best The Worst Witch fanfiction

Forgotten (click & enjoy, but don't forget a handkerchief (fear & horrror aplenty but happiness aplenty too.))

NOTE: I have remembeeed this one and HAD to re-read it, but it's on FanFiction net & the site doesn't open well on mobile if desktop site. (Yes, the site has an application, but I don't use it.) Therefore, the link above is for mobile. If on desktop, just delete m. before the site's name.

It's my opinion (will never change), but personally, nothing better can't be written (with Imogen, at least.) I haven't read tens of fanfictions (probably all with Imogen Drill up to ~ 2017 (included) and rarely something else,)

The fanfiction in question will be 10 years this Spring :)

[tww-stuff]

Does anyone know where I can read one of the hicsqueak versions of 𝘚𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨'𝘴 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘦 𝘪𝘵 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 by twtd? The original post on ao3 was taken down, and I would really love to read it if anyone knows we’re I can find one! <3 btw it’s a sequel to 𝘚𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘩𝘢𝘪 also by twtd.

[the-quiet-winds]

Mildred’s long-awaited return.

[rosie-love98]

Which Storyline Would Best Suit These Two?:

Context: I’ve been trying to make a fanfic series where Severus Snape (specifically in the “Harry Potter” films) is brought back to life through magical means and reunites with his ex-wife (m.1985-1986/1987), Constance Hardbroom (of the 1998 “Worst Witch” series). The pair would eventually reunite with their long-lost son, Nicholas Hobbes (from the “Worst Witch” spin-off, “Weirdsister College”).

At first, it was supposed to go like this; in the summer of 1985, Severus and Constance would secretly elope with Elphinstone Urquart (McGonagall’s late husband) or Albus Dumbledore (who managed to get the marriage papers from the Ministry Of Magic). Urquart, McGonagall, Dumbledore, and Amelia Cackle (Headmistress of Hardbroom’s school, Cackle’s Academy) served as the happy witnesses. Yet, this arrangement had to be kept under lock-and-key for various reasons.

 For one; Severus working as a double-agent for Dumbledore while needing to be connected with the Death-Eaters (facts that Severus told Constance before the elopement). Another is due to Severus and Constance belonging to different sect/breeds of wizards. The “Rowling” Wizards are known as “Imperiums”; they wield wands, allow both witches and wizards to fly brooms and find themselves free with magic. As for the “Murphy” Wizards, they are the “Ex-Codices”; they use wandless magic/their fingers, have the witches ride brooms with the wizards wielding staffs, and have to adhere to The Foster’s Effect (overusing magic can cause crazy stuff to happen). 

While Ex-Codices don’t hate Non-Magical people/Muggles as much as Imperiums, the former branch are more apprehensive with their counterparts. If an Ex-Codice were to marry an Imperium, it is mandatory for either bride or groom to be Non-Magical/a Squib. And, if any children result in the union, their loyalties lie with the mother. If the mother is an Ex-Codice, the child(ren) would be Ex-Codice. If the mother is an Imperium, the child(ren) would be Imperium. Merlin of Arthurian lore was a product of such a mix with an Imperium mother and an Ex-Codice father.

Back to Constance and Severus. At first, the marriage started off nicely. But, over time, arguments would often ensue. Poor communication on both sides, Constance being too traditional/rule-abiding to take risks in the magical arts, Constance not liking how Severus was with his students (and letting the Slytherins get away with everything), and Severus (possibly) pining for the late Lily Evans. What also didn’t help was Severus having nightmares of being like his abusive father, Tobias. Dreams that Severus refused to tell his wife.

Then in 1986/1987, things would take a turn. The Death Eater, Mulciber would (somehow) discover a place near Cackle’s Academy. Unbeknownst to Mulciber, this cottage was the place Severus and Constance have been sharing. When Mulciber confronts Severus about it, the latter would say that it’s just a base Basil Brennan and Sophronia Maidenhair (Snape and Hardbroom’s aliases) would lend him. Curious, Mulciber told Snape that he would visit in order to get some information out of them. As a result, Snape would go to Dumbledore, telling them of Mulciber’s plan. A wise action to make as Constance had gone back to the cottage due to being ill. 

Long story short, Dumbledore had aurors take Mulciber into custody. And, while Constance was unharmed, Dumbledore still had to get Madame Pomfrey to treat the still-sick witch. Upon medical examination, Constance would get the news that she, herself, was carrying Severus’s child. This leads to this dilemma: the outcome.

Choice 1: When getting the news, Severus was in shock. First, there’s his fear of becoming more like his own father as both a spouse and parent. Second (and more importantly) Constance and their unborn child could’ve been killed thanks to him! With these factors, Severus felt unworthy of such happiness and felt like both Constance and their child would be safer/better off without him. So, he put divorce on the table.

Heartbroken, Constance would agree and decided that their upcoming child would be put up for adoption. Specifically given to an Ex-Codice orphanage run by Orbana Hart (a former schoolmate of Amelia Cackle). Thanks to Dumbledore, Constance would hide away at the Flamel House in Paris, France with the blessing of Nicolas and Perenelle Flamel. As Amelia, Poppy and Minerva would come to Constance’s aid, Severus often visited. Though, he and Constance barely spoke with one another.

Then the big day finally arrived with Constance and Severus welcoming a son whom they’d name “Nicholas” (middle name would either be “Brian” after Dumbledore, “Elphinstone” after Urquart, or “Salazar”-this is Snape we’re talking about…).  While the new parents were delighted to have their infant with them, Constance and Severus had to force themselves to sign both the divorce and adoption papers. At nine days old, baby Nicholas was given to Orbana Hart.

Distraught and wanting to keep Constance and Nicholas safe from any Legilimens (including Voldemort should he be back), Severus placed his memories in a box of vials and had Dumbledore magically mind-wipe/alter any recollections that involved Constance and/or Nicholas. Before the mind-alter took place, Constance (having been told of the matter by McGonagall) confronted Severus to stop him. Still, Snape was adamant and went along with the altering to the distress of Constance. She would say her last goodbye to him.

Choice 2: Ok, so this is a working progress but it would almost be the same as Choice 1. The Mulciber Incident, the hide-away to Flamel House, and Snape Mind-Altering. However, there’s this version.

Once knowing that he was gonna be a father, Severus was lost for words. But, in spite of his fears and self-esteem, he was adamant in keeping his wife and upcoming child safe. With the help of Dumbledore, McGonagall, Pomfrey and Cackle, Constance would be cared for at the Flamel House with Nicolas and Perenelle Flamel. Months later, baby Nicholas came into the world.

Unfortunately, the happiness couldn’t last as (somehow) the Ex-Codice Magic Council got word of a child born to a magical Imperium and a magical Ex-Codice. While the Council isn’t surveillant like how the Ministry Of Magic is, they can still be intimidating and demand respect. So when they found out about baby Nicholas, the Council wanted Snape to either give up their powers or for Snape and Hardbroom to give up their son. 

As Snape needed to work for Dumbledore (and later protect Harry Potter), he couldn’t just give up his own powers. Plus, an Imperium suppressing their magic can be extremely dangerous. Constance, herself, offered to relinquish her own powers but the Council denied that offer as the Code states that it’s the Imperium partner who must be non-magical. 

In the end, after much arguments (and possible threats by Snape, McGonagall, and even Pomfrey), the newborn was taken from his parents and given to Orbana Hart’s orphanage. All with Snape and Hardbroom divorcing.

For the same reasons (being distraught and wanting to keep Constance and Nicholas safe) Snape had Dumbledore magically alter his memories but not without storing the old memories in vials. All to Constance’s upset.

For Further Context: Constance Hardbroom is Potions Teacher and Deputy Headmistress for Cackle’s Academy. Like Severus, she is cold, studious, extremely strict, adores the color black and experiments with newly invented potions. But while Severus is an INTJ, Constance is an ISTJ who greatly values tradition, rules and discipline. With this in mind, Constance seems to believe that everyone has their own place and must stick to it. It’s one of the reasons why she butts heads with the Non-Magical gym teacher, Imogen Drill and the clumsy student, Mildred Hubble (a witch from a Non-Magical family). During “Worst Witch” and “New Worst Witch”, Constance doesn’t seem fond of men; she loathes the idea of Cackle’s being co-ed (especially as the wizards could take more power). Yet, she did show interest in Icy Stevens and Richard Avalon. 

@constancehardbroompics @theworstwitch @theworstwitchforever @worstwitchstudent @severitus-for-coping @snapeaddict @severussnapemylove @yaviae

[tilda-rothery]

The final chapter!

With a purse of her lips – mostly to stop from smiling – Hecate had to agree, Pippa looked incredibly fine in her jodhpurs. Maybe a little too fine, as she ran her eyes over her from top to bottom – quite literally in this case when the opportunity presented itself.

[fandomfan707]

Looking for deleted Hicsqueak fics

does anyone have any deleted ff net or AO3 fics for Hicsqueak? I want to read all the fics and I know there are deleted fics and I would love to read them. I was wondering if anyone had any and would be willing to share them with me. It would be much appreciated☺️

[milbroom]

so unbelievably real. pls end the misconception that ao3 is a form of social media. its an archive. it’s not strange to comment on ancient works. it’s not like ur stalking someone. i promise. comments mean everything to us authors.

your words validate that lonely fifteen year old, struggling to fit in, even if the author is now in their thirties. time moves on, but everything i’ve ever written lives on inside me.

people who write fics. how do you feel about comments on super old ones you wrote like 2+ years ago

[fuchsadler-fanfiction]

Fanfiction Idea

I've been watching "The New Worst Witch" again recently and I've got ideas, folks, ideas! But nothing concrete yet. But we'll see. The last "it's nothing concrete"-idea of mine is now five chapters strong in the first draft.

[omgshiftercat]

I have a friend whose ex, a minor celebrity in some circles, was abusive.

Shortly after she and some other women went public about it, there were some people who chimed in talking about other misdeeds of his.

Her ex was, and is, a loathsome waste of oxygen, and the words, "...who deserves every accusation leveled at him" would almost escape my lips...

...Except that some of the accusations people began throwing around because they (understandably) hated this guy weren't true.

This did not help my friend at all! It muddied the waters, and gave her awful ex ammunition for his claims that people were just out to get him, and were willing to make stuff up to smear him.

Switching gears: there's been a lot of discussion recently about how some brilliant and influential art has been created by objectively terrible people. Part of that discussion has been calling out people who say, "Their work always sucked," or "I never liked it." Not only are statements like this unhelpful, they provide cover for predators. If you insist that your tastes reflect your morality, you're giving yourself a huge blind spot, and making it easy to dismiss evidence of harm done by creators you happen to like.

This is one reason why I think exhibits like this one are important: they help teach that lesson.

Three notes on this: 1. by the time of that exhibition, Gill was long dead and therefore unable to profit from it.

2. This kind of thing isn't necessary for every artist, because not every creator does heinous things.

3. My friend's ex is nowhere near the artistic league of Eric Gill or any of the other creators I'll discuss.

Switching gears again...

If someone mentions a bespectacled British boy wizard with an owl familiar, in a modern setting with "secret world" magic, the name that springs to mind is most likely "Harry Potter", right?

But Timothy Hunter, from The Books of Magic, was published a full seven years before that. I was working in a bookstore when the novelizations for the BoM comics came out, and had to tell kids that no, this was not a HP rip-off.

I don't think the reverse was true, either: for one thing, The Books of Magic is set in the DC Universe, and I've never heard of JKR reading superhero comics. But also... sometimes completely separate creators will come up with strikingly similar ideas, utterly by coincidence. It's one reason why most authors tell fans NOT to send them ideas or fanfiction based on their work: there is rarely any good way to prove that you didn't steal a concept.

Now, obviously every creator is influenced by other people's works, and I completely agree that it's good to acknowledge that and to point fans towards your influences!

When Rowling began channeling her resources into making life worse for trans folk, I saw a lot of people saying, "Well, Harry Potter was just a mediocre rip-off of The Worst Witch anyway."

While I haven't read that series, I strongly doubt this claim. The idea of magic schools is older and more widespread than either of those series, and "British boarding school hijinks, but it's a magic school" was bound to be written more than once.

Now, some of you already know, and others have looked up, who originally wrote Tim Hunter. And... yeah, it's Neil Gaiman. *sigh*

In the last few days, I've seen some people saying, "The Sandman ripped off Tanith Lee's Tales from the Flat Earth." They cite a number of similarities: Azhrarn, the Lord of Darkness, is a pale-skinned, raven-haired Byronic figure with a sibling-like relationship to the Lord of Death and the Lord of Madness. Like the Endless, these beings are god-like, but specifically not gods. Apparently some people have mistaken fanart of Azhrarn for Morpheus. And Chuz, Prince Madness, has a bisected appearance, half his face horribly messed up, like the demoness Mazikeen.

But speaking as someone who was a fan of the late Tanith Lee years before I picked up an issue of The Sandman: I don't believe the latter was stolen from the former. Are there similarities? Yes, but they're superficial. If you've read both series, as I have, you'll know that the stories, settings, and characters are very different!

It's possible Gaiman was influenced by Lee's writing, and if so, I agree he should have acknowledged that. He did promote the work of other female creators, which is one reason why many of us thought he was "one of the good ones". But it's also entirely possible that these two authors independently came up with similar ideas.

When it comes right down to it, I think that statements like this -- "their best work was just a rip-off of something else" -- are just another variant of "their work always sucked".

It's often an easier accusation than "they've always been crap", because, as I said, writers come up with strikingly similar concepts all the time, and it's very hard to prove you didn't steal an idea. But it has the same problems, so -- barring the kind of case you could make with a college-level plagiarism-catching program -- I think it's best avoided.

Now, telling people, "Hey, are you sad about this creator turning out to be an awful person to whom you don't want to give any more money? Try this other person's work instead!" This is good! Let's have more of it!

Addendum 1: I think "separate the art from the artist" should mean, "you don't have to treat books already on your shelf as if they're suddenly coated in poison", not "I'm going to ignore this creator's actions and keep buying their products anyway."

Addendum 2: I just posted a version of this to Bluesky.