#hadley silver

[doglover-trait]

First thing to do after moving into your dorm? Hack Don Lothario's trust fund while @squea's Corn MySims figure keeps watch

(Lot: Tidal Tower Renovation by AlwaysOveralls)

[sil3ntm0thart]

Lottie & Darla belong to @starry-punk

[iamthescalesofjustice]

the difficulty involved in keeping hadley on retainer isnt even the costs for his alchemical experiments its the fact that this guy needs to spend 5 hours a week walking in a forest and 3 swimming Minimum to not lose it and he Hates having company for either. dude spent years braving werewolves for this. it doesnt matter how much gold you can throw at him and he can only be somewhat motivated by what he considers his ethical obligation to do good in the world by moving his field forward, you need to be able to keep him in a suitable environment.

[battyaboutbooksreviews]

🌈 Queer Books Out December 2023 🌈

🌈 Good afternoon, my bookish bats! Struggling to keep up with all the amazing queer books coming out this month? Here are a FEW of the stunning, diverse queer books you can add to your TBR before the year is over. Remember to #readqueerallyear! Happy reading!

❤️ Caught in a Bad Fauxmance by Elle Gonzalez Rose 🧡 Heartstopper #5 by Alice Oseman 💛 This Cursed Light by Emily Thiede 💚 All The Hidden Paths by Foz Meadows 💙 Vampires of Eden: Book One by Karla Nikole 💜 Not My Type by Joe Satoria ❤️ Storm in Her Heart by KC Luck 🧡 Eternal Embrace by Luna Lawson 💛 A River of Golden Bones by A.K. Mulford 💙 Tomb of Heart and Shadow by Cara N. Delaney 💜 Through the Embers Volume 2 by Adriana Sargent 🌈 Lucero by Maya Motayne

❤️ The Poison Paradox by Hadley Field & Felix Green 🧡 Second Chances in New Port Stephen: A Novel by TJ Alexander 💛 Matrimonial Merriment by Nicky James 💚 Under the Christmas Tree by Jacqueline Ramsden 💙 Every Beat of Her Heart by KC Richardson 💜 The Memories of Marlie Rose by Morgan Lee Miller ❤️ Playing with Matches by Georgia Beers 🧡 Always Only You by Chloe Liese 💛 Fire in the Sky by Radclyffe and Julie Cannon 💙 Nuclear Sunrise by Jo Carthage 💜 The Naked Dancer by Emme C. Taylor 🌈 Resurrections by Ada Hoffmann

❤️ Destiny’s Women by Morgan Elliott 🧡 Framed by Kate Merrill 💛 The Spoil of Beasts by Gregory Ashe 💚 Catered All the Way by Annabeth Albert 💙 A Cynic’s Christmas Conundrum by L.M. Bennett 💜 Yours for the Taking by Gabrielle Korn ❤️ One Swipe Away by Nicole Higginbotham-Hogue 🧡 The Gentlemen’s Club by A.V. Shener 💛 A Death at the Dionysus Club by Melissa Scott and Amy Griswold 💙 Secrets of the Soul by Holly Oliver 💜 Like They Do in the Movies by Nan Campbell 🌈 Limelight by Gun Brooke

❤️ Heart First by S.B. Barnes 🧡 Grave Consequences by Sandra Barret 💛 Haunted by Myth by Barbara Ann Wright 💚 Invisible by Anna Larner 💙 The Murders at Sugar Mill Farm by Ronica Black 💜 Coasting and Crashing by Ana Hartnett ❤️ Fairest by K.S. Trenten 🧡 A City of Abundant Opportunity by Howard Leonard 💛 The Dark Side of MIdnight by Erin Wade 💙 Mending Bones by Merlina Garance 💜 Transform by Connal Braginsky & Sean Ian O’Meidhir 🌈 The Apple Diary by Gerri Hill

❤️ TruLove by Nicole Pyland 🧡 Structural Support by Sloan Spencer 💛 Whiskey War by Stacy Lynn Miller 💚 Overkill by Lou Wilham 💙 Heart of Outcasts by Nicole Silver 💜 In the Shadow of Victory by J. E. Leak ❤️ Just Like Her by Fiona Zedde 🧡 Gingerbread: Claus For Christmas by Miski Harris 💛 Lies are Forever by C. Jean Downer 💙 The Boys in the Club by M.T. Pope 💜 Lasting Light (Metal & Magic) by Michelle Frost 🌈 Tell No Tales by Edie Montreux

❤️ Radio Silence by Alice Oseman 🧡 Even Though We're Adults Vol. 7 by Takako Shimura 💛 The Accidental Bite by Michelle St. Wolf 💚 Mated to the Demons by Taylor Schafer 💙 Someday Away by Sara Elisabeth 💜 Gatherdawn Luminia Duet Volume 1 by Lee Colgin ❤️ Curse of Dawn by Richard Amos 🧡 Healing the Twin by Nora Phoenix 💛 Ride Me by KD Ellis 💙 How to Bang a Vampire by Joe Satoria 💜 Cthulhu for Christmas by Meghan Maslow 🌈 Prestige by Toni Reeb

❤️ Don't Look Down by Jessica Ann 🧡 Winter and the Wolves by Chris Storm and Kinkaid Knight 💛 Hat Trick by Ajay Daniel 💚 Starborn Husbands: Return to the Pleiades by S. Legend 💙 Dead Serious Case #4 Professor Prometheus Plume by Vawn Cassidy 💜 Practice for Toby by Amy Bellows ❤️ The Siren's Song by Crista Crown 🧡 Hers to Hunt K.J. Devoir

[kentwells]

I’d like “know exactly where this leads” bestie thank you!!!!!! Live laugh love ~clatoera

(I’d actually like ALL of them on that little Taylor Swift lyric list)

@clatoera for u :) this was hard but i missed writing these idiots

For all she’s heard about Clove, Cato’s partner is tiny. All of these kids carry weapons heavier than they are, but there are spears that are twice as tall as her. Her dark hair in an intricate braid down her back. When Cato points her out across the room, Arlene looks straight past Clove, sure that his partner must be someone else.

“Cato, go against the wall,” she calls in lieu of a greeting, pulling three knives from the colorful waistband of her leggings. Cato’s grin is brighter than she’s seen in years as he presses his back against the foam target wall. 

Mikhail nudges her, “No need to worry about this, hm?”

“He’s reckless, not suicidal,” Arlene whispers back. The younger years at the academy are all brute force, letting the kids run around as much as humanly possible. She’s seen Cato throw, it’s sweet in how terrible it is. She’s still laughing a bit about the pile of sweatpants that are nowhere near the laundry bin when she notices the knives, one just above each of Cato’s shoulders. Her heart drags out of her chest as the third flies right at his forehead, landing so close that she’s grateful for the academy mandated buzzcut. The sharp, silver knives line his body, but the grin hasn’t left his face. Her heart sinks as she watches Cato return Clove’s knives, holding them high above her head. 

He looks like a kid. He’s twice her size, holding knives above his head, but there’s no cruel gleam in his eye as he tugs on her braid. She knows exactly where this leads. 

+ 

“You may not recognize your children,” they told Arlene at orientation. She still recognizes Cato, though. Of course the boy who pushed kids off the monkey bars and got frustrated when he wasn’t the first one to finish a coloring page would end up in the Center. 

Cato comes home for four days in November, and even though Arlene recognizes the hard set of his jaw and Mikhail’s blond hair, he’s bigger every time. He was well past taller when they dropped him off at the academy, but by now, he’s the type of tall where he ducks slightly to cross through the door. Clove comes too, still tiny, in a sweatshirt that Arlene bought for Cato when he was little. 

She has a thousand questions for them. Are they quite this obvious when the trainers are around, are they being sent into the same games, where do they rank in their class? Instead, she kisses Cato on the cheek and sends them to the grocery store to restock. 

“I can help, Mrs. Hadley.” Clove says, as Arlene peels potatoes. She must see the apprehension on Arlene’s face, not quite willing to attach herself to this girl, because she immediately follows with “Just because Cato’s useless doesn’t mean we all are.”

Arlene is impulsive, she speaks without thinking. The regret is instant when she says “Arlene, not Mrs. Hadley,” and Clove cracks a quarter of a smile. 

Snow, is it obvious. The way Clove tucks herself into Cato’s side on the couch. His eyes don’t track her like a hunter’s should, instead watching her every movement with something unrecognizably light. When she finds Clove’s bra stuffed between the couch cushions, she tosses it into the wash before tucking it into Clove’s duffel bag.

It’s twenty-three to one that he dies, twenty-two to two that District 2 has a winner – she can pretend, for 2 hours, that she’s worried about Clove getting pregnant and not about Clove killing her son.

♡ taylor swift prompt list

[randomestfandoms-ocs]

Rachel Berry plot bunny?

(alright anon you're getting three plot bunnies but chances are only one of them will actually be a Rachel ship!)

1 – Hadley Roth

Hadley Roth had no interest in McKinley's new glee club, she really didn't. She didn't care that it existed, and she definitely didn't care about joining. All she cared about was bringing the school paper back from the dead and doing a good enough job that she could get an internship with a local newspaper or tv station, and getting a scholarship to a journalism program. But when Sue Sylvester approaches her with an offer, Hadley listens. An internship with WOHN News 8, all the funding a school paper she could ever want, and she only had to do one thing: get Sue the scoop on the Glee club. In exchange for everything she ever wanted on a silver platter, Hadley can find it in herself to care about the New Directions.

2 – Cole Manning*

All that Cole Manning really wanted from his sophomore year of high school was a football team that didn't suck. A coach that actually gave a shit, teammates who weren't the worst people and players he'd ever met, and an actual shot at being something more than a Lima Loser. It wasn't that much to ask for, right? Except that apparently it was. His team cared more about fighting over a fucking Glee Club than winning a game, and Cole was sick of it. If the Glee Club being for losers was the problem, then the obvious solution was that Cole had to find a way to make it cool.

*Cole was originally conceptualized as a possible Rachel plot bunny but now he's Quinn's boyfriend instead

3 – Tegan Wright

Unfortunately, Tegan Wright did know Rachel Berry. Not by choice, mind you, but it was hard not to when Rachel had to join every single fucking club that Tegan was in. Tegan actually cared about her clubs, thank you. She was passionate about debate, about Model UN. She loved the renaissance club and student council. Rachel only did them to get her picture in the yearbook, and Tegan hated her for it. But then McKinley gets a new glee club, and Tegan has no plans to join the Rachel Berry show. Until Rachel approaches her, asking for help. The glee club needs more members, otherwise it'll be shut down. Tegan might not like Rachel, but she likes music, and she loves the look of "founded a nationally ranked glee club" on her transcript, and so the New Directions find their newest member.

[melsie-sims]

“I think you’ll like this game a lot better,” Johnny said and proceeded to explain the rules. “I’ll go first, and then you can just copy what I do.”

Ronin didn’t hate horseshoes nearly as much, mostly because he didn’t end up falling over. In fact, he was quite good at this.

“You’re a natural!” Johnny cheered him on.

“We’ll have to go to Granite Falls one of these days,” Ronin grinned.

“Oh I’d love to! Maybe we’ll go when Hadley is a child and can properly enjoy some of the features that come with Outdoor Retreat,” Johnny agreed. “Come on, let’s go for a walk! We still have some socializing to do if we want to at least get a silver reward for our date.”

[twistedtummies2]

Top 15 Portrayals of Raoul (ALW’s Phantom)

“The Phantom of the Opera” closes in two days on Broadway, and I’m still here to give my second favorite musical the honor it deserves! I’m counting down my favorite performers who have played the three key roles of the show. Yesterday, I presented my favorite people who have played Christine Daae. Today, I move on to the next major part: Raoul, Vicomte de Chagny.

Raoul is a character who, even more than Christine, I feel gets a bad rap. He’s the least popular and well-respected of the three main characters; his goals, motivations, and personality are the most simple and altruistic of the three, and as a result he’s often perceived as the least interesting. People tend to gravitate more towards Christine’s many dilemmas, or the tortured and haunting darkness of the Phantom himself, than the seemingly more whitebread Raoul. It’s telling that in the sequel to Phantom, “Love Never Dies” (by the way, I’ve ONLY been considering the first show, not that one, too, in my choices here, at least as much as possible), Raoul is actually changed into one of the main VILLAINS of the story…which, in my opinion, is both nonsensical and a total show of unwarranted contempt for his character. While it is true that Raoul is the least layered character of the three, I think he works because he serves as an interesting counterpoint to the Phantom. Like the Phantom, Raoul is deeply in love with Christine and admires her voice. But while the Phantom has lived a life of torment in the shadows, Raoul has effectively been raised with a silver spoon: he’s a generally optimistic, outgoing, wealthy young man. In fact, at times it seems Raoul is a bit…slow, shall we say? I wouldn’t say he’s stupid, outright, but I feel that part of the character a lot of people don’t realize is that he’s not necessarily the brightest bulb in the bunch, certainly not when compared to the Phantom. But what makes Raoul so wonderful is that, while the Phantom represents all sorts of complexities and tragedies and decadent possibilities…Raoul represents something simple: pure and wholesome goodness. His love for Christine seems absolutely honest and untainted, and the fact he’s rich never really seems to be something he lords over anybody. He doesn’t try to bribe people, he doesn’t try to use his money as something to flaunt, it just…exists. He’s someone who wears his heart on his sleeve, and he’s still willing to take risks and go to great lengths to help those he cares about most. There’s nothing WRONG with Raoul, at the end of the day; he only seems to be “less interesting” because the other characters have so much else going on. Raoul’s motivations and goals are simple: all he wants is to help and protect Christine. He loves her, and he is willing to go to any length to keep her safe and make her happy. There is nothing selfish or self-righteous in his soul. Something interesting about a lot of the actors who have played Raoul best over the years is that they often seem to “graduate” to playing the Phantom later down the line. This isn’t ALWAYS the case, but you will see several examples of that between this list and the one for the Phantom, which shall be done tomorrow. This isn’t always the case, however; what makes a great Raoul doesn’t necessarily have anything to do with the Phantom, they simply have to be people who understand who he really is and why he is such a good character in this tale. Once again, this will be a description-less list (just names and pictures). With that said, here are My Top 15 Portrayals of Raoul from Andrew Lloyd Webber’s Phantom of the Opera!

15. Byron Nease.

14. Killian Donnelly.

13. John Riddle.

12. Rhys Whitfield.

11. Simon Bailey.

10. Tim Martin Gleason.

9. John Cudia.

8. Reece Holland. (Yep. The March Hare played Raoul. I was pretty surprised, myself.)

7. Ramin Karimloo.

6. Michael Ball.

5. Steve Barton.

4. Hadley Fraser. (I actually used to dislike his Raoul, and I don’t really know why. Nowadays I think he’s great.)

3. John Barrowman.

2. Andrew Ragone.

1. Patrick Wilson. (Not sure how popular this opinion is, but it is the hill I choose to die on.)

Tomorrow: My Favorite Portrayals of the Phantom!

[asmrtist-brainrot]

Redacted Listeners (Dari Ver.)

IT'S DONEEEE!!!

This is me mostly talking about like clothing aesthetics.

Also establishing how I see these characters and giving them names!

This is my interpretation and gives me a chance to think about character design a little more! And to help me remember how I plan on dressing/representing their clothes.

~ Dari

Angel | Malak or Mal - (they/she) [27]

Name Meaning: Angel (Arabic origin)

Arab-Thai

Short and heavy set. Shaved head and darker skinned, big black lashes, and dark brown eyes.

AFAB//Fashion and general expression leans femme, shifts between not wearing and wearing a binder. Hair is buzzed so is seen as more androgynous. Clothing style waives more in the light academia casual, wears lots of high waist and crop tops. Also, hoodies, hoodies for days - all types - zippered, pullovers, sleeveless, oversized, cropped, etc.

Baabe | Apis - (they/him) [25]

Name Meaning: “Bee” in Latin

Turkish

Messy, curled, dyed blue hair pulled in a half-bun. Eyes are a deep green. Skin is midtone. Silver ear cuff on right ear, key on chain necklace.

AMAB//Mostly traditionally masculine features with the exception of longer lashes and silky skin, hair is grown out and curly. Well groomed, with a mid tone voice that could be construed as any part of the spectrum. Notably broad shoulders and strong arms. Simple and clean fashion, professional more often than not, if not in athleisure wear.

Bright Eyes | Lux - (they/she/he + primarily uses they/them) [20]

Name Meaning: Light (of Greek origin)

Greek

Unkempt blue-white hair worn short with bangs. Eyes were an electric blue before their change. Vamp eyeballs, almost cat-like eyes. Double helixes.

AMAB//Notably considered somewhat of a pretty face, mostly from Freddy's recollection of their high school years - though people found them too intimidating to approach. Bounces all over the spectrum in terms of style. Sticks pretty heavily to the Decora Kei style, somewhat allowing themselves to take all the attention away from Fred. It's a bouncing dichotomy from their foul mouth and sweet face... Frederick and them took somewhat a darker look after their turnings.

Cutie | Hadley, Haddie, or Lee- (they/him)[28]

Name Meaning: Named after Lieutenant Hadley from Star Trek

Irish

Short cropped dark blond hair paired with very pale blue eyes. Peachy skin with lots of freckles! Tattoo behind the ear that says "mind over matter" as nod to their powers. Double lobe piercings, labret, purple gemmed necklace.

AMAB//Generally sticks to a sort of academia look, layered items with focus around jewelry pieces. Loves silver and rings and watches! Generally pretty soft in appearance, sweater vests and jumpers and hoodies. Doesn't do baggy pants unless they're cargos.

Darlin' | Barrett or Rett - (they/she/he, no preference)[26]

Name Meaning: Quote from site: "While some sources say Barrett is of German origin and means “as strong as a bear,” others say it's derived from a Middle English surname meaning “strife” and often given to argumentative people".

Iranian-German

Short bobbed, messy brown hair. Brown skin and deep gold eyes. Muscular. One gold tooth. Right brow has a slit. Gold ear cuffs.

AFAB//Aligned with wolf pack norms, dresses pretty simply with leather jackets, bomber jackets, etc. Still somewhat fashionable, ranging in aesthetics and gender representation. Pretty confident most of the time despite being covered in scars. Athleisure wear if they're not dressing for a formal event.

Doc | Apollo - (he/him)[30]

Name Meaning: Apollo is the god of healing

Haitian-American

Dark skinned with twists in dark hair. Big lips and pretty blue eyes, labret cuff and dimple piercings. Double lobe piercings.

AFAB//Minimalist style. Enjoys soft, flowing fabrics. Black and white and tans, isn’t a fan of all black. Something of a beige enjoyer, sticks to solids. Has an affection for boots and pantsuits! Lots of statement earrings!

Dreamer | Roya - (he/they)[29]

Name Meaning: Dream (Persian Origin)

Persian

Dark skinned. Deep teal eyes. Dark hair in braids, extensions are a pretty teal.

AMAB//Style is truly grunge, jackets and ripped jeans. Sleeves ripped off every shirt, paired with beanies and combat boots, multiple types of chunky jewelry… Hates shorts though. Lots of piercings!!!

Freelancer | Caron or Ronnie - (they/them)[22]

Name Meaning: Loving (Welsh Origin)

Viet-Welsh

Black bobbed hair with dyed tips. Pretty dark eye bags. On the bigger side. A lil' pale. Scattered tattoos. 

AFAB//Not really one for any fancy dressing, enjoys dressing casually if at all possible. Style preferences lean gothic, mostly in comfortable hoodies and bracelets - also likes fishnets and arm warmers. Dresses pretty diversely; but likes skirts/dresses for the ease of not needing to put on pants.

Love | J. A. A. I. or Jai- (no preference, referred to with they/them)[physically 21]

Name Meaning: J. A. A. I. stands for “just an artificial intelligence”, Jai is of Indian Origin and meaning “triumph” or “victory”

White, nearly gray skin. Hair is black and long. Eyes are bright green with a ring of white around the pupil. Panelling is subtle.

INTERSEX//Not strictly interested for any type of fashion one way or another. Likes soft, plush or fuzzy items though, scarves and shirts in particular. Would live in pajama pants if they could.

Lovely | Beau - (they/them)[25]

Name Meaning: Beauty, Handsome (French Origin)

French

Soft strawberry blond hair, short 2 block haircut with white tips. Mid-tone brown skin. Yellow/gold eyes. Has gauges with hoops in them.

AMAB//Pastel goth babe. A truly deeply ingrained affection for sweet, bright colors but also the macabre. Only started incorporating more black into their fashion after being turned. Lives in demonias and dramatic black makeup. Lots of pink to match their dyed hair.

Mentor | Nason - (she/they)[24]

Name Meaning: Helper (Biblical/Anglo-Saxon Origin)

Scottish-Mexican

Long side bangs and short blond hair, side bangs are dyed a light blue. Lightly tanned skin and soft blue eyes.

AFAB//Our casual girly! Loves animal prints and necklaces, heels basically all the time. Sticks to simple combos; wears primarily pencil skirts and tight slacks at work.

Professor | Dai - (he/they)[25]

Name Meaning: Peace, Calm (Japanese Origin)

Japanese

Blasian! Light-skinned and covered in freckles from head to toe, long, black curly hair tied into a ponytail. Snake bite piercings and tongue ring, both gold.

AMAB//Soft boi fashions!! Layers on layers! White sweaters and collared undershirts!! Lots of different crew neck sweatshirts, loves his converse and cuffed pants.

Seer | Aya - (he/they)[33]

Name Meaning: Sword (Old German Origin)

Danish-Swiss

Has albinism. Wild bleach blond curls. Masked their completely white seer eyes with brown contacts; usually but wears sunglasses too. Small lips and covered in freckles.

AMAB//(undetermined)

Smartass | Akira or Aki - (she/he, no preference)[28]

Name Meaning: Bright, Intelligence (Japanese Origin)

Hispanic-Japanese

Bobbed soft lightish brown hair with silver dyed tips. Mid-tone skin. Baby blue eyes. Wears black framed Warby Parkers. Also has a gold necklace. 

AFAB//Our business casual hoe, tight slacks and multiple types of button downs/collared shirts. Fun pops of color and unique types of collar pins and cufflinks. Patterned sweaters and blazers!! Likes it a lil’ fancy.

Starlight | Juno or Jun - (they/them)[24]

Name Meaning: Child of June, Youthful. Named after the Queen of the Gods but more in reference to the constellation (Greek/Latin Origin)

Greek-Chinese

Baby purple hair styled in a half-shave with yellow tips. Honey brown eyes. Light freckles. Crescent moon earrings.

AMAB//Space prints for days, lots of chokers! Plays with different types of fashion, doesn’t really stick to one type of style but wears mostly dark colors.

Sunshine | Sol - (xe/xir/xim)[23]

Name Meaning: Sun (Spanish Origin)

Cuban-Australian

Messy, short dark hair. Dark eyes. Vitiligo. Freckles. Sun earrings.

AFAB//Sweaters, sweater vests, hoodies - anything comfortable. Off the shoulder, usually layered. Shorts too, always shorts. Will wear leggings underneath if it’s too cold.

Sweetheart | Nox - (he/they)[24]

Name Meaning: Night (Latin Origin)

Italian

Somewhat wavy dark hair, pulled back into a high pony or bun. Eye color changes based on colored contacts. Skin is lightly tanned. Double lobes pierced, black choker. E-girl hearts on cheeks.

AFAB//Vintage babe, film noir type beat. 1950s type, lots of simple button downs and pattered shirts. Biker/bomber jackets, layered over a solid shirt. Clean and slick… Does like leather though, harnesses and jackets and boots.

Warden | Pyxis - (they/them)[??]

Name Meaning: Name references the box, or compass of the ship Argo

Tall and on the light skinned side. Hair is dark blue and white. Eyes are a deep purple/lavender. Horns are white and similar in style to Avior's but fade into their skin. Wears silver horn jewelry. Echo eye bolo tie. Lavender butterfly on the inside of the left wrist. 

???//Casual. Lots of long sleeves and business type looks, mostly as the time they spend in Elegy is always due to business. Likes cool colors, leans masculine but pops fun textures and patterns. Likes lace and ruffles in particular. Likes jewelry for their horns and bolo ties.

[doglover-trait]

Hadley was a little suspicious, so she took a pregnancy test, and... vampire baby? 👀

I really want a vampire. Everyone cross your fingers

[panem-plus]

first hunger games | one

word count. 2815 warnings. mentions of blood, violence, guns, mentions of abuse, swears last ↞ menu ↠ next

Carmela could still hear the echoes of her mother's wails even as Peacekeepers had dragged her all the way from the square to their tiny house on the outskirts of the village. Her brothers' teary eyes had stared up at her in horror at the sounds, entirely lost in the situation of their new reality. Her father had been the Peacekeeper ordered to stay and watch their mother after the reaping, both out of fear for her life and out of a duty he had to his District.

The family of five sat silently in their living room, not even the sounds of the two boys who would normally be playing with their wooden figurines could break the silence. Her mother stood up slowly from her seat, shuffling towards the kitchen silently as she robotically began making dinner from the scraps that were left in the cupboards. Carmela could see the shake in her hands as she attempted to cut up a carrot to put into the stew she was making.

"Do you need a hand, darling?" Hartley called out to his wife, only receiving a small shake of her head in response.

He turned away from her to face Carmela with a sigh, ensuring that Freya was far enough in the kitchen to not hear what he was going to say.

"You're mother can't know what I'm about to tell you. I heard from some of the Peacekeepers on the way back. They're rigging the vote." Hartley said, Carmela flinching in preparation for the words he was going to speak next. "They're rigging it so it's you."

"What?" Carmela whispered, her heart dropping to her feet.

"There's not going to be a single name in there besides yours, the Mayor will make sure of it." Her father sniffed, the usually emotionless man tearing up at the idea of his eldest being dragged away from their home to her death.

"Can't you do something? Swap out the names for someone else's?" Carmela practically begged her father. "They can't do that. What would the President do if he found out?"

"He won't care. All he cares is that two kids are sent from each District to their slaughter." He sighed, turning his head to see the hauntingly pale face of his daughter. "I'm sorry, Kid. All I can do is help prepare you for whatever you will face."

Hartley stood from the sofa, patting his daughter firmly on the shoulder before retreating into the main bedroom. In his wake, he left behind the shaking-scared girl, whose eyes had completely lost focus as she stared far off into the distance imagining the many ways the Capitol could make her meet her demise. Would she be speared through the chest? Shot through the head? Have her neck slit open and left to bleed like an animal? All she knew was that there was little chance she would ever see her younger brothers once she was shipped off to her death.

She wiped a stray tear from her eyes as she spotted the two boys had made themselves comfortable on the only standing sofa in the room, attempting to read one of the books Mrs Hadley had dropped round for them. Carmela chuckled to herself, already hearing the muffled arguing as they both tried to be the one to hold the book and read to the other. She slipped in between the pair, placing the book, which she now noticed was a very old copy of Harry Potter, onto her lap and beginning to read from the top of the page. The two boys snuggled themselves into either side of her, their eyes already starting to drift shut before their light snores filled the silence of the house.

\\---//---||---\\---//

Harta giggled watching her mother and father chase each other through the fields behind their house, her younger sister sat beside her creating daisy chains and giggling alongside her. From the outside, the quartet seemed to not have a care for what had just been announced by the President only twenty minutes prior. But a keen eye would spot the dried tears painted across her mother's cheeks, the tremble in little Silver's hands as she tried, again and again, to thread the stems through one another, or how Harta herself was not even looking at her parents at all, but watching the sun shine over One for what could be her very last time.

All were affected by the announcement, bar one; Mayor Sitle. The man knew that his children would be safe, knowing very well that the Capitol would not want to anger the man who was in charge of their vast supply of Luxury goods by sending one of his precious daughters to their deaths. They wouldn't dare test the patience of such a powerful asset to their own wealth all for the entertainment of a few psychopaths high up in the Capitol. 

"Mum, did they really mean what they said in The Square today?" Silver finally broke the silence.

Their parents came to a pause in front of their daughters, unable to answer the question as they too did not know if what had been said was true.

"I'm gonna be honest, Silvy." Mrs Sitle knelt before her youngest. "I have no idea. Whatever happens tomorrow and the days after that is completely in the hands of The Capitol."

"But what if it's me or Harta?"The twelve-year-old pouted, fiddling with the daisy chain bracelet on her wrist.

"It won't be, my darlings. I promise you." She lied through her teeth, already knowing they would have no control over tomorrow's ceremony, the Head Peacekeeper demanding to have control over the whole thing up until the actual reaping.

She pressed a firm kiss to each of their foreheads, pushing back their matching blonde curls and cupping their cheeks. They were the spitting image of their father, even down to the matching mole under their left eye. The only way anyone could tell they were even her daughters was their eyes; forest green, like the woods that stretched across the edge of the District. Even the crinkle in their nose as they smiled and snuggled into her hands matched that of her husband's, two perfect replicas of the love of her life. She couldn't imagine how she would react if either were picked tomorrow for the Games, how she would have to put on a brave face for all the cameras that were no doubt going to be pointed directly at the family. All she knew was that she would fight tooth and nail to get them back from the depths of hell known as the Capitol, even committing acts of treason and rebellion to do so.

"Should we start heading back, dear?" Her husband knocked her out of her thoughts, pointing to the incoming grey clouds. "Don't want to be caught out here when those roll in."

"Of course. It's almost time for dinner anyways." She sniffed, accepting his hand to stand as the girls began packing up their blankets and raced each other to the back door of the house.

"We have to do something." Mrs Sitle shook her head, turning to face the glum look on her husband's face.

"Commander Brookes won't let anyone but his top Peackeepers anywhere near where they're keeping the name ballot boxes. There's no way we could possibly mess with them in any way without being hanged for treason."

"Then I guess we're being hanged 'cause I'm not just accepting that our daughters might be sent to their deaths and we would have done nothing about it." She turned sharply from her husband, a plan already forming in her head as the blond man ran to catch up with her.

"God, I hate that I love you so much." Mayor Sitle huffed as he caught up with her. "Fine. What's the plan?"

She only smirked up at her husband, already knowing her husband would agree to anything she suggested, no matter how treasonous. The Sitle family would not be torn apart by something as cruel as the Games, not if the Mayor had anything to do with it.

\\---//---||---\\---//

Hunter paced the length of his marble kitchen, his fingernails almost gone and bleeding from his insistent picking at them. His mother watched on in fear, already knowing the storm that was brewing in her son's mind. He was much like his father in that sense, not very quick to anger, but when the rage would finally tip over, no one was safe from it. It was what led them to move from their previous District to their new house in Two and why he was no longer in the picture.

"Hunter, why don't you sit down and eat something? Your food's going cold." Her fragile voice reached out to him.

"I'm not hungry." Hunter snapped, staring out the window as he could see the Gibbons boys playing in their back garden. "I'm going to go see Carmela."

"Maybe it isn't the best idea for you to see her, dear. You've heard what they've all been saying she did to poor Ver-" Mrs Voyage could barely finish her sentence before Hunter stormed over to slam his hands on the table in front of her.

"Don't you dare say that girl's name in front of me. She killed herself, Carmela had nothing to do with it." Hunter seethed at his mother, the vein in his forehead bulging with anger. "You should know better than to test me, mother."

Frida could only stiffly nod her head, scared if she moved too much she would receive a beating similar to the one last time she had mentioned the Mayor's daughter. Hunter stalked away from his mother in a huff, already knowing he was heading straight to the Gibbons's house whether she was going to accept it or not. The girl was his oldest and only friend in the District now that Vera was gone, there was nothing that would separate him from her. The door slammed so hard behind him as he stormed through it that the plaster from the ceiling cracked and fell to the floor slightly, covering his mother's home-cooked meal with the dust of the entire room and ruining all her hard work. Frida sighed as she pushed herself slowly up from the table, already moving towards their cupboard under the stairs where she knew the broom was after many occurrences of dinners and furniture being ruined from her son's anger. Looking out the window, she could see his figure storming up the hill towards town, frighteningly similar to the figure of his father.

As he passed the Justice Building on his way over to the other side of the town, he couldn't help but slip in through the back door, already knowing all the secret passageways from being best friends with his daughter. He smirked to himself when he found the spare key to the Mayor's office, the hiding place inside the bookcase in the corridor had not changed since Vera showed him it. Cracking the door open and hearing no noise from inside the room, Hunter welcomed himself inside, already knowing exactly which drawer to go into to find what he was looking for.

His hands shoved the bags of coins quickly into his pockets, filling them to the brim with stacks of notes and coins. As his hands began to come up bare, he finally looked into the drawer properly, spotting an envelope with the seal of his old district stamped onto the back. Curiosity got the better of the troubled teen and he was stuffing that into his pockets as well as the money.

Footsteps echoed down the corridor, alerting Hunter to the presence of either the Mayor or his assistant; the only two people who would enter this wing of the Justice Building. Scrambling to close the drawer he had been rifling through, he launched himself under the wooden desk as the door to the room swung open and shut quickly.

"Commander Hadley, what exactly was so important that it couldn't wait until I was done with my dinner?" Mayor Selman sighed, leaning back against his desk.

"It's about your daughter, sir." Hadley took his helmet off, resting it beside the man.

"What about her?" Selman stiffened, ready to fight his Head Peacekeeper if he dared utter a bad word against his deceased daughter.

"The rumours aren't true, the Gibbons girl had nothing to do with her death. It was the boy, that District hopper." Hadley gruffed. "Hunter Voyage is his name."

Hunter stiffened under the desk after hearing his name, already knowing exactly what words were going to come out of the Commander's mouth. He couldn't hear any more of it, covering his hands over his ears as the Commander recounted what he had been told by an unknown source in the District, already knowing exactly who it had come from. His skin crawled at the words he could still hear muffled through his hands, ready to pounce if too much was said.

As their conversation came to a close, Hunter found himself itching to leap from under the desk. He knew exactly where he was headed as the pair retreated from the room, setting as he stormed back through the building the opposite way to where he had come from. Officer workers lept out of the way at the ball of anger that raged through the halls, not caring enough about who the boy was to stop him in fear for the wrath that would be sent their way. The front doors to the building slammed into the concrete behind it as he raced down the stone stairs, his destination already locked and in sight.

\\---//---||---\\---//

Pounding sounded on the Gibbons' front door, awakening the sleeping boys from their peaceful slumber on their sister's shoulder. Before the brunette could stand to answer the door, the doorknob was wiggling violently and the pounding continued; only louder this time.

"Carmela! Open the door! I need to speak to you!" A gruff voice boomed from the other side, Carmela's body going rigid with fear at the recognisable voice on the other side.

Her father came running back into the living room, his rifle at the ready at the commotion going on at his front door. His eyes immediately found those of his wife, nodding for her to move out of the kitchen and behind him, the kids following suit. 

"She's not here, Hunter! Go back home!" Hartley shouted back at the boy, inching closer to the door as the pounding continued.

"I know she's here, Hartley," Hunter shouted back, the door almost giving way with how violently he smashed his hand into it. "I know what you said, you bitch!"

"Papa, what's he talking about?" Carmela whispered to her father, curling her fists into the back of his shirt.

"It's not just your name they're rigging into the vote." Her father turned his head to look back at his daughter, already seeing the cogs turn in her head as she realised what he meant.

"You can't do this to me, Carmela! You can't take me down with you!" Hunter's voice sounded closer than it had before like he was in the room with them. "I'll kill you, Gibbons!"

Suddenly the commotion outside their front door stopped for a moment, like the calm before the storm. Hartley inched himself closer to the wooden door, looking through the small peephole only to be met with a barren street.

"He's gone?" Freya whimpered, the two boys cradled to her chest.

"I think s-" Grunts and the sound of a body striking the ground cut Hartley off, followed by the commanding voice of Mr Hadley, the head of the Peacekeepers in Two.

"Oh, thank god." Carmela sighed, leaning against the door to look out the curtained window.

Hunter was face down in the dirt, blood streaming from his mouth as three Peacekeepers struggled to handcuff him. Commander Hadley had his rifle pointed at the boy, shouting words that fell blank to Carmela's ears. His stony, grey eyes met hers, sending a shiver of fear once again down her spine. His thrashing became more violent, three more Peacekeepers having to put all their weight into holding down the manic teenager. Hadley's rifle struck the boy thrice in the head before he finally remained limp in their arms enough for him to be released by all but two of them.

"He's going to get himself killed." Hartley tutted as he joined his daughter at the window. "Or at least get a good beating out of this. Bloody well deserves it."

Carmela could only stiffly nod, not moving from the window until the, now handcuffed, boy was shoved into the back of the Peacekeepers' van and turned down the end of the road. She remained at the window until the sun disappeared from the sky, her face being lit by moonlight. Her mind continued racing with thoughts of the following day's ceremony. How was she supposed to be rigged into the games to fight for her death when she would already be murdered at the hands of her old best friend?

next part

[dreaming-for-an-escape]

A New Kind Of Hell 

Alternate ending part 2

Summary: Layla Bradshaw thought her personal hell was the worst thing she ever experienced. She was clearly wrong. *This is a two part alternate ending for my story How Soon Is Now? For Season 8 Episode 10. Please read with caution.*

Warnings: Smut, Cannibalism, dub-con, non-con, hints of magic being used on Layla to make her more willing.

Six months.

Six fuckin’ months.

That was how far along Layla was in her pregnancy, and she still wasn’t used to it. Even after she had Tessa, being pregnant again felt so strange.

Layla thought it was understandable given that she’d only been a few days pregnant with her daughter before Michael forcefully fed her his blood. It didn’t take long for her belly to grow to completion, and a few hours later she ended up giving birth in Misty’s cabin with the remaining witches of her coven.

But even they were now all gone. Her whole family, wiped out of existence with the exception of Tessa. And unlike last time, Michael wanted Layla to experience a full term pregnancy since it was his child she was carrying. Not Kyle’s.  

When Layla found out she was pregnant two weeks after having to undergo Michael’s lust, she had herself a good cry. She didn't plan for this to happen, nor did she want it. Michael was the true mastermind behind the pregnancy.  

Big surprise there.

Due to Michael's hold on her, Layla had no choice but to let him use her as he saw fit. That same night, after finding out she was pregnant, Michael fucked her with such avidity it seemed as if he were trying to put another baby in her despite already being pregnant. This intensity of his only increased, making it obvious he enjoyed being inside her as her stomach grew with each passing month.

Layla found his raging libido sickening.

Michael in general sickened her.

And for the first month of her pregnancy this thing she was carrying also sickened her. That was until Layla had her monthly visit with Tessa.

Despite the initial shock at the news of her pregnancy, her daughter, wise beyond her young age, made her see reason. This baby, even half of Michael, was still just a baby, and half of her. If Layla hated it before it was even born, then hatred will be all the baby would know.

Hatred itself was such a strong emotion, one Layla was very familiar with. Only now she could not, did not, want to hate this child. Hatred would twist them into becoming a monster, just like Michael.

Thus, Layla made a promise to herself five months ago. She was going to try her hardest to make sure this child wouldn’t turn out like him. They wouldn’t ever question her love for them. Love that Layla did not, and would never have for Michael...their father.

As expected, Michael made his presence known to Layla in the bedroom they, much to her misfortune, shared. Layla didn’t get up from where she laid on the plush couch. She only looked up from the book she was reading long enough to see his domineering frame, and a timid looking maid with a cart.

The woman who pushed in the cart with the silver platter was not her usual maid, Hadley. Layla wondered where she might be at the moment. Hadley had become a friend to her during these last few months. The light brunette would sometimes keep her company when Layla wasn't graced with Michael's so-called loving presence. She also was better company than Miriam, who even as a robot unnerved Layla.

The unfamiliar woman didn’t stay long after setting the silver plate onto the dinner table that was in the massive bedroom. She quickly bowed her head before taking off, leaving behind Layla who wished to follow.

It was now her and Michael. And the baby Layla was carrying, but it was only Michael who made the alarms go off in her head because of his staring.

Michael was practically undressing her with his eyes. “You look utterly ravishing.”

“I look like shit and I feel like it.” Layla muttered, not caring how petulant she sounded. She put aside her book because there was no point in reading anymore with Michael in the room talking to her.

“Nonsense.” Michael cooed, coming closer to where she laid on the couch. He tilted her chin up, forcing her to look at him. His thumb brushed her bottom lip, pulling it down slightly. The pinkness on her cheeks set fire to his loins. “I do believe you’re glowing.”

Layla stood, quick to get away from his hold while she could. Even anxious she wanted to defy him, but any snarky comment about how he needed to get his eyes checked out wouldn’t have done her any good. Or rather, it wouldn’t have done Tessa any good.

Michael had one hand behind his back, while the other gestured to where the food had been left. “Perhaps this will help.”

“I seriously doubt whatever you have brought is gonna help.” Layla replied curtly. She nonetheless walked over to the dinner table and took a seat in front of the silver platter.

Michael fixed her a sharp smile, revealing what was inside the silver platter. It wasn’t anything Layla expected. There resting on top of the silver plate was a human heart and liver. Layla got up, the chair screeching loudly as she backed away from the table, absolutely appalled. One of her hands covered her mouth, and the other touched her bump, as if shielding her unborn baby from seeing the ghastly sight before them.

Once upon a time Layla’s dream (before she learned she was a witch) was to become a Forensic Anthropologist. Therefore she was quite familiar with human anatomy but not even her knowledge stopped the aghast from being presented with a human heart and liver.

Who exactly did the organs belong to? Layla hadn’t a clue. She felt really bad for whoever this was. Layla highly doubted they volunteered to be killed just for their heart and liver. And why exactly those parts? She didn’t know for certain but she would soon, judging from Michael’s gleaming eyes.

Layla hated that look he had on. A look of delight. She’d seen him eat hearts before, and if he was about to eat this heart and liver in front of her she just might throw up. Her pregnancy was making her extra sensitive these days.  

Horrified, Layla then remembered what he said. She glowered at him. “How the fuck could you ever think this would help me?”

“Your body this far into your pregnancy requires substances of a certain kind.” Michael informed her in a cool manner. He came over to her, forcing her to look up at him again. His only reaction to her shock and swearing was glee filling his features.  

Layla shook her head, trying her best to ignore the softness of his hands and the coolness of his rings against her flushed skin. “You’re lying. You’re just trying to trick me.” She brusquely vocalized. “This is some sick twisted way for you to get your rocks off.”

Michael chuckled, low and smooth. “Oh, believe me my love…” He caressed the apple of her cheeks, relishing the warmth. “Why would I resort to trickery when I already have the pleasure of spilling inside you whenever I want? You always come willing anyway.”

Layla stopped herself from slapping the smug face off of him. He spoke as if she took sheer joy in sleeping with him. It had only gotten worse now that she was pregnant, and it was always him who initiated it.

Layla pushed his hand away, bristling while doing so. She tried to walk away but Michael stepped forward, invading what little personal space she had. “You know you want to.”

Layla’s breath hitched at the way his intense blue eyes were staring down at her. The richness and smoothness of his voice made chills go down her back, and she suddenly felt weightless even at six months pregnant. She looked at the silver plate with the heart and liver and was astonished at the lack of disgust from moments prior. She wasn’t getting nauseous the longer she stared at the bloody organs.

No, Layla now had a craving. A need, really. The need to eat everything on the plate. And that frightened her, but not enough to stop herself from hurrying over and taking the first bite.

And once she did, the frenzy began.

It was as if Layla wasn’t in her own body as she took bite after bite of the heart and liver. At the moment it didn’t matter that she was eating another person’s organs. All that mattered was needing to eliminate this hunger of hers that came out of nowhere. Layla never once noticed Michael playing with her hair as she ate away.

All that blood nearly put her in a stupor. She wasn’t herself though, as she’d later come to realize in distraught. She’d been under a spell, his spell.

Layla didn’t pull away at the press of Michael's lips against her own once she finished everything. She didn’t protest in the slightest at the feel of his tongue licking its way inside her mouth, welcoming the blood that was there. And she reacted in a way that was very unlike her.

Rather than stopping the kiss, Layla pulled Michael closer, moaning against his mouth. Her green eyes wide but hazy as he picked her up bridal style, mindful of her current state.

Their fervid kissing never faltered while making his way to their bed. It was when they undressed that it came to a pause. His clothes came off first, and he tore her dress right after. Michael nearly groaned at the roundness of Layla’s stomach. Her breasts had grown, becoming more fuller and her hips were wider.  

Rather than thrusting himself inside her without a second thought, Michael kissed his way down, gently biting her fuller, sensitive breasts until he was leveled in between her thighs. His member throbbed, pleased to see her arousal glistened like diamonds.

“My Laya, my precious Layla.” Michael murmured, blowing air against her clit. She reacted instantly by throwing her head back, turning into a moaning mess. She fell back onto the mountain of pillows they had on the bed. “My beautiful wife.” Her moaning became louder once he buried his whole face in her hot, wet center.

Layla’s hands impulsively went to his hair, pulling him even closer to her bud of nerves. She felt the silkiness of his hair as his lips wrapped around her clit. His tongue teased her, moving fast enough to finish her until slowing down at the last second, delaying her release.

Michael didn’t mind Layla pulling on his hair, finding amusement in her desperation. She was never like this with him, so he was going to enjoy it. He continued the torture with his tongue on her bud, pushing her close to release only to pull her back at the last second.  

It wasn’t until Layla began sobbing, begging with her sweet voice, that Michael finally gifted her with the bliss she’d been chasing. He pressed his tongue hard against her clit, and within seconds she was howling so loud glass could’ve broken. Her arousal gushed out, covering the bottom part of his face with her deliciousness.

Layla’s hands fell from his hair, fisting the silk sheets. The heat coursing through her wasn’t gone, heightening again as Michael crawled up her body, kissing as much of her skin as possible. The evidence of what was left of her climax shined on his face.  

“Taste yourself, my love.” Michael purred, abruptly kissing her before she could say anything.

Layla’s mouth opened as if on its own, tasting the slick he very much enjoyed. He kissed her until she needed air. The sight of her slick covering her face where blood from her feast remained hardened his cock.

“You taste like honey and lavender mixed together.” Michael gruffed, surging forward again to claim her lips. Layla shuddered at his tongue flicking against her own.

At some point, during their heated kissing, Michael had maneuvered. Layla was on his lap while he was sitting against the headboard. He kept eye contact with her as he reached down to palm his hardened member.

Layla mewled at the sight, throwing her head back at the feel of his other hand dipping between her thighs. Three of fingers made their way inside her, and she shivered at the coolness of his rings. An endless amount of tingles started to go down her spine at the way his thumb rubbed her clit mercilessly.

Michael was determined to get her to orgasm again so soon, and he accomplished just that.

A hard press to her clit right as he curled his fingers to hit a special spot inside made Layla let out an earth-shattering cry. Her nails scratched down his chest, leaving angry bloody marks.

Michael growled, liking the pain and pleasure she made him feel. He rubbed himself harder, not stopping the curling of his fingers inside Layla nor the clit pressing with his thumb with his other hand. She was suffering from overstimulation, and as an outlet scratched down his chest again, drawing more blood. He didn’t stop his movements, and she didn’t stop her scratching until a pinch to her clit had her wailing.

Layla’s arousal from her orgasm leaked down her thighs, right onto Michael’s weeping member. He pulled his hand from her warm cunt, taking joy in her whining when doing so and used his slick covered hand to jerk himself with. He finished at the feel of her warmth all over him, his seed mixing with her arousal.

The two of them were lost to their climaxes; they didn’t notice the crack in the bedroom wall. A crack that had not been there before.

Layla fell onto his bloody chest, where Michael welcomed her. He enjoyed her shaking, clearly overwhelmed but too tired and under his influence to tell him otherwise. Her shaking would only continue because tonight’s pleasures were not at an end. His beloved looked up at him, eyes hooded, at the feel of his hands on her widened hips.

“What…?”

Michael didn’t give her time to finish her sentence. He flipped Layla to be under him, careful with her swollen belly. He pinned her hands above, intertwining their fingers just as he snapped his hips forward, going deeper within her.

As if on autopilot, Layla’s legs wrapped around his waist, the soles of her feet digging into his lower back. Her own back arched as broken moans and the sound of slapping skin filled the lavish room.

A bit of clarity began to slip through to Layla during the euphoric act, but that didn’t stop Michael. There would be no stopping, not until he was fully satisfied, and even then that still wouldn’t be enough. He’d never get enough of his precious Layla. His beloved wife.  

“Wait, no…” Layla tried to say, managing to free her hands only to hold onto his shoulders. Her words quickly turned into whimpers at the speed of his thrusts.

Michael gently shushed her, a contrast to the way his hips moved expeditiously against her own. The bed squeaked underneath them, and her pregnant belly moved but not enough to harm their child. “Just take it, my love.” He licked into Layla’s mouth again, tasting her tears mixing with her arousal and the remnants of blood from her feast. “Take the pleasure I’m only able to give you.”

Any objections Layla had became lost to the moans he plucked out of her. In the end she took what he gave her with tears streaming down her cheeks and nails scratching down his back, leaving behind new trails of blood.

[mithridacy]

hadley mithridic’s map of irem that sucks and is not good

for those not playing along at home, the irem loom is a series of Locations (blue) each featuring Cards that give silken, sinewy, or bombazine Thread, allowing the player to travel (orange) to other locations in the loom. some travel requires thread not available in that location, so you have to save up cards from other places, as thread clears each time you jump but your drawn cards (limit 3) do not. some places also give resources (bottom of blue notes) which have limited in-loom use as far as i know

first note: pretty sure i have not found any of the secrets yet, trying smth now that’s gonna take a bunch of actions. second note some of this is wrong almost certainly: i was mixing up chilly/silvered and altered/abyssal for a while and probably haven’t caught all instances. since im doing this wikiless.

anyway, i really enjoy the way the Ruined Future actually has a glut of resources (albeit poor quality resources according to their descriptions) compared to the other futures. it’s like, reflective of the way that future is one of the few that leaves a person with a need for things, unlike becoming a fluke or whatever. was surprised by how none of the four main destiny-giving futures rly appeal to me, hoping to find more in the secret corridor marked with “IMPOSSIBLE” on the map. also i know that theres a steward of discordance secret somewhere, thanks to wiki spoilers (not rly mad, otherwise i would have stopped looking at this point).

current thought process:

edit I FORGOT Unravelling MENACE!!!! ITS DEFINITELY UNRAVELLING

[kigiom]

get to know me tag game!!

tagged by @reginaldbright ! thank you :)

rules: tag some people you'd like to get to know better

last song: stumble then rise on some awkward morning by silver mt zion is currently on in the background

last show: I'm currently rewatching Endeavour, but it COULD actually be The Thick Of It's In the Loop spinoff which I watched the other day. for my sins etc etc -- in light of the next question I guess the show I watched before that would be...The Outsider? I think?

currently watching: Endeavour. about to rewatch S2!!

currently reading: Hollow Places by Christopher Hadley

current obsession: Endeavour. been getting really into mahjong again though

I'm gonna no-pressure tag (hello cool mutuals I've never spoken to) @platonicthyla @spocksbedsidemanner @fritzllang @amrv-5 and @pherre

[numinous-queer]

Cinamon Hadley - the Inspiration for Death of the Endless

Cinamon Hadley, the inspiration for the character design of Neil Gaiman’s Death of The Endless featured in his Sandman comics, passed away in 2018. Hadley’s influence on goth fashion and culture cannot be overstated.

“Death is the only major character whose visuals didn’t spring from me; that credit goes to Mike Dringenberg. In my original Sandman outline, I suggested Death look like rock star Nico in 1968, with the perfect cheekbones and perfect face she has on the cover of her Chelsea Girl album.

But Mike Dringenberg had his own ideas, so he sent me a drawing based on a woman he knew named Cinamon Hadley — the drawing that was later printed in Sandman 11 — and I looked at it and had the immediate reaction of, “Wow. That’s really cool.” Later that day, Dave McKean and I went to dinner in Chelsea at the My Old Dutch Pancake House and the waitress who served us was a kind of vision. She was American, had long black hair, was dressed entirely in black — black jeans, T-shirt, etc. — and wore a big silver ankh on a silver necklace. And she looked exactly like Mike Dringenberg’s drawing of Death.” - Neil Gaiman

In an interview originally published in part in her book Some Wear Leather, Some Wear Lace: The Worldwide Compendium of Postpunk and Goth in the 1980s, Andi Harriman interviewed Cinamon on what her style inspirations were, and on how Mike Dringenberg utilized her for his design of Death:

When did you first enter the scene? What attracted you to it?

“I was a ballerina and grew up on the stage. What attracted me to the deathrock scene was, it was like theatre – make-up, costumes... oh and dancing! You could be so creative with hair, makeup and clothes. And I’m a very creative individual. I designed and made most of my clothes-not only was I poor, but I had specific ideas of what I wanted to wear. I didn’t enter the scene until late ’87. I was 18. I dyed my hair black, bought black liquid eye liner, and bought my first pack of cigarettes-camel lights hard pack. Lol. I heard about a dance club in Salt Lake called the Palladium. I put my ballet stage make-up on, my little black outfit and teased my hair as big as I could get it and went to the club. I was in awe. I felt so at home, everyone was nice to me and I thought everyone was so “cool”. I decided this was the world I wanted to be in. I copied Patricia Morrison’s hair from Sisters of Mercy!”

Who inspired your look? Was there a specific person?

“I wasn’t really influenced by any specific person-except my big hair-it was more; I saw people in lots of black and lots of eyeliner. I would just start out with my Maybeline liquid eye liner and just start drawing. I often didn’t know what I was going to do. I really like the Egyptian makeup, I guess actually I was influenced by King Tutankhamen -a photo used in the comic has this makeup. But, there really isn’t anything original- someone somewhere has done it or thought about doing it. I thought I was so creative, drawing a big spiderweb on my face and gluing a little plastic spider in the center—yeah-well, it had already been done. Now for the infamous swirl under Death’s eye. That was a result of one of my little drawing sessions on my face. Now I see it everywhere. It’s kind of neat.”

How did you get involved with Neil Gaiman?

“Mike Dringenberg, the original artist for the Sandman, was a good friend of mine. He asked me one day if he could use me as a character for a comic book. I said sure. I didn’t know anything about comics and I didn’t know it was even anything special. I certainly had no idea it would be what it is now. Funny story... About three years after Mike asked me if he could use my likeness, I was living in Houston, having moved from Salt Lake City, and I was at a friend’s house. My friend told me his favorite comic was the Sandman and showed me an issue. When I opened it I saw a picture of myself staring back at me. (It was one of the 2 photographs actually used and just inked over). I said ”oh my God, that’s me!” I had no idea I was in the Sandman, and I had even forgotten about being asked by Mike to use me as the model.”

MORE PICTURES HERE!

[rhydianww]

Fuck You, You Fucking Fucks!

Rhydian woke with a start the next morning, still in the Infirmary. The dream he had the night before was bizarre. He had never drempt a dream that felt so. . . real. It felt like watching a movie almost but from the perspective of . . .himself. Like he was caught in that guy's body but seeing through his eyes. And that girl. . . the ball. He felt like he knew her, like he knew what was going to happen, but he just couldn't verbalize it.

What was even more stratling then his strange dream though was the face only a few feet away from him. Maggie was still asleep, across from Rhydian, but tuned onto her stomach with her hair a mess, her limbs stretched out, and drool dripping down onto her pillow from her open mouth. Rhydian grimaced and gave his head a shake. He regretted, yet again, sleeping so close to her cot.

The Slytherin shifted out from his blanket cacoon then and pushed his feet into his boots. He'd need to get his potion before he went back to his dorm, so he pocketed his phone and headed to the back of the infirmary towards his aunt's office. He threw open the door, not expecting to find someone else in there other than his aunt. However it seemed she must have left earlier that morning because it was Madame Thomas currently sitting in his aunt's chair, flipping through paperwork.

"Good Morning, Rhydian." She said cheerfully. Madame Thomas was a bit younger than Tante Victorie, still fresh out of her apprenticeship but well-liked by the students of Hogwarts and kind. She was one of the handful of healers that worked on rotation at Hogwarts in the Infirmary.

"Here for your potion, I suspect. " She said, standing up. Her white robes flowed out behind her as MAdame Thomas turned towards the potion cabinet and opened up the glass doors. Her finger trailed along the shelf until she found the glass bottle with iridescent fluid swirling silver inside it. Rhydian's name was found at its base on a parchment sticker, written in his aunt's clear, precise hand.

"Thank you," Rhydian said as the nurse handed the potion to him. He took it quickly, mindlessly relying mostly on muscle memory in his still half-woke state before he handed the vial back to Madame Thomas. She smiled at him warmly.

"Have a good day, love." she said sweetly. Despite knowing she didn't mean anything by it, Rhydian still blushed slightly at the pretty witch's kind words.

"You too." He replied politely before exiting the office. He grabbed what he could find of his stuff on the way out, knowing he would have to rely on the house elves to get his soaked clothes and cloak back. He left Maggie still sleeping on the cot as he stole from the infirmary and down into the dungeons. His sleep had been fretful and restless. He was anticipating the comfort of his own cot before he even stepped foot into the Slytherin common room. He could feel his familiar pillow and the weight of his headphones ready to lul him back to sleep already.

Rhydian made it to his dorm room and had only just laid down when the fourth year boy's dormitory door was thrown open. It banged back against the stone wall loudly, causing others in the room to grumble and curse at whoever it was being so loud this early in the morning. What time was it again? Rhdyian looked at his phone. 9:00 am. Not exceptionally early, but too early for a Saturday morning that was for sure. He groaned and turned over, pulling on the headphones that had been left on his nightstand over his ears to help drown out the noise.

"Get up Dickhead," urged a familiar feminine voice as his shoulder was shaken quite violently. Rhydian spun, glaring at Hadley who reared back only to stand defiantly at his bedside, arms crossed over her chest.

"What the fuck's your problem?" Rhydian snapped. But then, much to his surprise, a smile broke over her face as she shoved her phone at him urging him to look at the most recent Wizchat story that she had pulled up. It was a selfie of one of the upperclassmen who had auditioned them yesterday, beside his face was a message that read; 'Results are posted. Same room. Go check it out.'

Rhydian had completely forgotten about that. So much had happened with Maggie. Fuck, did Haldey even know?

"Hads," Rhydian started, ready to inform her of her cousin almost drowning, but she interrupted him.

"Shut up and let's go!" She cheered. She was excited, and Rhydian understood why. She was easily the best drummer they'd heard. she was a shoe-in for the spot. And now that Rhydian had remembered he had tried out to be in a band, he felt his own excitement building. He pulled on a hoodie and finally let Hadley drag him from the dormitory, through the common room, and back out into the castle. The two were practically running by the time they hit the first-floor corridor, excitement and anticipation waking them both up properly.

The two quickly made it to the old classroom tey had used yesterday for auditions. There was a few students standing around the door, reading the parchment charmed to it with looks of disappointment on their face. Good Rhydian thought smugly, that meant they didn't make it. Rhydian and Hadley pushed the morose-looking kids aside to get a proper view of the results and scanned them quickly.

He saw his name.

He saw his fucking name! He was in a fucking band! Rhydian let out a whoop of surprise and excitement, his fist pumping into the air. He clapped Hadley on the shoulder expecting excitement for her as well, because she definitely. . .wait. Rhdyian's eyes scanned the results again. Then again. Then a third time, just out of pure disbelief. She hadn't made it for drummer. Instead, it was some kid named Tristian Edwards. The kid who couldn't keep time to save his life? Rhdyian didn't understand. Haldey had been amazing.

He looked to her, still shocked to see her standing stock still. At her sides, his fists were tight in shaking. His eyes scanned her face. Her dark eyes were glossy, about to brim over with tears. Usually, he would have made fun of her for this. Slytherin was not a house that treated the weak kindly, but she just looked so. . .sad. Even though he didn't like Hadley Stonefyre all that much, even though she could be loud and mean and madder than any loon you could find on the fourth floor of Saint Mungos, she was still the best drummer by far that had auditioned. and the fact they hadn't picked her, it wasn't fair. This soured Rhydian's stomach, addling his excitement. He put his hands down, his face becoming one of concern for the witch beside him.

"Hads. . ." He started, bt stopped. What did he say to her.

"Congratulations," Hadley said to him, a hand coming to wipe roughly at her nose. "You deserve it."

"So do you," Rhydian told her lowly. His tone was no longer kind. It was hardened as he became determined to get to the bottom of this. If he was going to be in a bad, he didn't want it to be with some half-assed drummer when they could have an amazing one.

Rhydian grabbed her by the arm and began dragging her towards the great hall where from the upperclassman's Wizchat made it look like he was. He didn't give Haldey an explanation, but she followed along at least until they made it to the doors that were almost open, sectioning the Great Hall off from the rest of the school. It was there she finally wrenched her arm back from the taller of the pair.

"Rhydian," She said, her tone full of warning. Her eyes were sharp now when he looked back at her, the earlier tears gone. "What are you-"

"I'm getting to the fucking bottom of this," Rhydian snapped, "I don't want to be in a band with cocksucking Tristan bloody Edwards when I could have you! They have to be bloody mental to pick him."

"He couldn't even keep time," Hadley conceded. Rhydian grunted his affirmation, but let her go. The two Slytherins stalked through the great hall, straight for Gryffindor where they found the bloke who auditioned them sitting with a group of mates. He smiled when he first noticed Rhydian approached, but that look didn't last long. It fell into a grimace once he noticed Hadley beside his new bassist.

"G'morning Rhydian." The blonde greeted before passing Hadley an awkward look that said more than enough. She wasn't wanted here.

"Did you have a fucking aneurysm or something?" Rhydian asked the blonde. His grimace became a scowl.

"Excuse me?"

"Tristan or Hadley?" Rhydian exclaimed in disbelief, "She could outplay him with her hands tied behind her back."

"Yeah," Hadley chimed in, "He couldn't carry a beat to save his life." The blonde sighed and ran a hand through his shaggy blonde hair looking haggard at the conversation at hand.

"I know," He sighed. "I'm truly sorry. . ." He looked to Hadley, squinting at her as he tried to remember her name.

"Hadley. Hadley Stonefyre." The redhead huffed with a roll of her eyes.

"Hadley," The blonde continued, "You were the best drummer, hands down, I admit. Our decision to go with someone else was more of an. . .artistic choice."

"What the fuck?" Rhydian and Haldey said together, disbelieving what they were hearing. They looked to each other, silently confirming with their eyes they were hearing the same thing before they looked back to the Gryffindor in front of them

"What are you, a fucking Ravenclaw or something?" Rhydian pressed.

"The fuck do you mean artistic choice?" Hadley questioned.

"Look, the band will be playing the Yule ball in a few months," The blond continued, his tone bored, "It's going to be bad enough to have a fourth year hanging around with us, never mind a little girl. No one will take us seriously."

From beside him, Rhdyian heard Hadley release a frustrated, growl sort of sound before she launched herself at the older boy. Rhydian caught her before she could get herself suspended, his arms coming tight around her chest, wrestling her back to himself as she writhed and kicked.

"You misogynist piece of shit!" She hollered as the Gryffindor looked on with shock and fear at the beast of a girl Rhydian was currently containing. "I'm going to fucking tear you apart!"

"Count me out, I don't want to be in a talentless fucking band," Rhydian told the Gryffindor as he finally hefted Hadley off the floor so she would lose some of her traction. She thrashed her legs out more, but at leas this time she had nothing to push off of.

He dragged Haldey away again until she finally began to settle. But Rydian didn't let her go, instead, he leaned over her, whispering into her ear.

"Fuck those guys," He told her, "We're going to make our own band. One that's better one-hundred times better." He swore. "And we'll take that fucking Yule Ball spot from them too." Hadley stilled at this nd Rhydian finally released his wiley housemate.

"How are we going to do that?" She asked Rhydian. A dark look came to his eyes as he stared past her, back to the upperclassman currently laughing at them with his friends.

"However we need to." He told her. "Whatever the cost." Hadley nodded and stuck out her hand to Rhydian.

"Shake on it," she insisted. Rhydian shook her hand firmly, without hesitation. Those guys that were laughing at them now, they were dead meat.

"Let's go," She said next, moving back towards the Great Hall doors, "I need to go tell Maggie about this."

Fuck, Maggie! Rhydian had completely forgotten to tell Hadley about what happened the night before.

"Yeah. . . about Maggie," Rhydian sighed, "A lot happened last night."