Agatha Harkness Performs Some Good Old Fashioned Rituals

Agatha brushed the dust off of her frankly excessive attire. Her long, extravagant but intimidating witch's gown was covered in dirt and ash as she descended through the ruins of her underground lair.

She cackled, mad with excitement. Had she broken free of that domestic cycle and the Witch's spell sooner, she'd have surely found it all the same. Was it part of the plan to leave her mere hundreds of feet above her place of greatest power?!

It wasn't the best laid plan.

Agatha's long black hair trailed behind her, and the dark, cindery tone had begun to creep up her digits once more-

fun fact- the corruption of the Darkhold, of all dark magic, is forever. She didn't need the unholy book to do some unholy damage.

But this time, she'd have to step back to her roots. After all, she wasn't a new blood sorceress- she was an honest witch, a supreme power!

Maybe she should teach some of these new lady powers a lesson.

Below her booted feet was a summoning circle- a clear symbol of ritual plucked straight from gothic imagery and stereotype to be sure- but effective.

There's a reason the world still thought of witches as vengeful old crones-

because they were vengeful- and Agatha had as much right as any to get a little good old fashioned payback.

This spell was.....well, a little juvenile. But Agatha had been thinking, in her twisted, rotten, but ever sharpened mind-

what if the secret to destroying her adversaries lie not in brute ****- but in cunning?

She was a woman- she knew what it was like to BE a woman, in all of the ages, over the centuries. And something that had lasted as a tool against her sex for age upon age- was shame.

She hated to stoop so low- but she didn't hate it quite enough.

So, should she find and procure but a single item from the wardrobe of any female hero (or any other female she felt like, truly) and place it in the summoning circle- she could in fact create such an aversion on the flesh of the female in mind that she could effectively bar any such item from being placed as cover on their bodies for- well, a long time. She'd been gaining power for thousands of years- so it MIGHT wear off in a few hundred, give or take.

Simply put- she would denude the female heroes, and they would hopefully stay FAR, FAR AWAY. No more meddling- no more annoyance- no defeat, ever again.

She cackled- she truly was a power.

And descended to her circle, eyes gleaming at the first item she had managed to procure from a female target.

It was.....