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sinfulnature · 4 years

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hello, hello, hello ! i am late but i am here finally and i’m sorry it took me so long. below the cut you’ll find little write ups for each of my muses. wanted connections will be posted later but in the meantime please take this.

{ chris evans, 39, cis male, he/him, pansexual } welcome, henry king ! you make a living as a high profile director outside of the island ? cool. you’ve been here for two and a half weeks, right ? staying in room 402 ? you’re into ass to mouth & worship, but not gaping & extreme humiliation ? mr. conway will be sure to accommodate. i heard you were most excited for the beach, which makes sense. rumor has it you’re resourceful & critical, but i think people should get to know you for themselves.

introducing henry king, a high profile director who flies out annually to the resort to spend his summer months relaxing with his wife and boyfriend at his side.

he had a mostly stable childhood, one that was spent with two younger siblings in tow and a mother who was like a prototype of what a pinterest mom would be. his father spent a lot of time at work and it’s something that, while henry doesn’t begrudge him for it now, was frustrating as a child and not knowing why he wasn’t there.

the first major thing that henry remembered his father attending was his junior year of high school when he was the student director for a one act production of snapshots, an anthology of short plays. his father, also a director, took the time to give him notes about the things that could have been done to tighten up the show. the last four words were i’m proud of you. that was the moment that henry decided that he wanted to be a director.

fast forward to college and he goes to the goes to the university of southern california’s film school and instead of taking just the director classes, he takes the time to add a year and a half to his time in college and gets a screenwriting degree out of it.

his first production partner was his father, who promised henry that he would fund one movie, from top to bottom, with the help of a production company that was owned by a close friend. henry wrote and directed the thing himself and, though it didn’t garner major awards, it was screened at sxsw. that was enough.

let it be known that henry knows that his introduction into the world of filmmaking was super nepotistic. he understands that he had so many more advantages than any other person in his shoes, at his time, first starting to make movies when he did, and he was still terrified of failing.

with the above, it should also be known that henry goes out of his way to make sure he’s telling stories that, while he has not experienced them, he can find the right people to help him tell it and amplify voices that otherwise might not be heard. not out of guilt or a need to make up for his introduction to the business, but out of an understanding that his platform should be used to reach every single person and not alienate.

due to the stresses of his job and the level of scrutiny he’s constantly under, he’s well known to seem to abscond from the world as soon as his movies have come out for the summer. as a director of typically action packed, star studded films, he’s usually on his way to the resort by the second or third week of june.

though he makes so many of these action packed blockbusters, he also tries to make sure that he makes movies that appeal to his soul and finds himself in the process of developing a high fantasy series that’s in the same line as the authorless harry potter books and lord of the rings.

this is his second year at the resort and henry can see this honestly becoming an annual thing for himself, his wife, and his boyfriend to do. so many frustrations of his are squashed down throughout the year, not through anyone’s own fault, but just because there’s a lot of weight on one’s shoulders when billions of dollars sit on it every year. this is the place where his hedonistic tendencies shine through and he’s not particularly mad about it.

{ corinna kopf, 27, cis female, she/her, pansexual } hey there, alexandrea conway! you’re still the financial officer and you’ve been working here for two and a half years ? and you’re living in villa one. cool. you’re into body worship & creampies, but not extreme humiliation & scat play ? that’s what i thought. when you’re not working, you’re at her villa, right ? well, makes sense. people say you’re even tempered & prying, but i think they should get to know you for themselves.

introducing alexandrea katherine conway née douglas, the wife of oliver conway and chief financial officer at the resort. they’ve been married for about two years.

she had a relatively happy childhood and comes from a line of claimants to a scottish duchy of hamilton. she’s the youngest of six children and does technically hold the title of lady but she’s never done anything with it and it’s more a funny story that she tells at parties than it is a serious thing she buys into because she always thought it was a family joke.

prior to coming to the resort, drea graduated from the wharton school of business double major in business and marketing. post graduation she spent a fair amount of time as a prominent social media influencer. her multi million follower platform has translated into some business for the resort in the form of some of their most consistent guests.

at the time of marrying her husband, he offered for the resort to be something they shared in ownership and it sprung some little goblin in her head to deny his offer. she wanted to earn it and not marry into it.

the joke in that, of course, is that when most people look at drea they see incredibly soft curves, the bright blonde hair, the fact that the most articles of clothing she owns are just bathing suits, swim cover ups, and the occasionally very beautifully form fitting dress, the word bimbo appears in their mind on repeat. other words come to mind, too, but that’s the one that drea finds comes up most often.

if we’re being really honest, in the depths of her soul, there’s something that drea finds funny about it. there is a gift in being underestimated and who cared what their perceptions were ? her happiness with her husband and job did not rely on anyone but herself.

she has incredibly open sexual preferences but with a body like hers she favors worship and the kinds of things that don’t leave bruises unless they are loves bites. drea is a switch and is happy to lead or follow, though goddess remains either way, if you’re interested in having her.

{ inbar lavi, 33, cis female, she/her, lesbian } welcome, elodie bram ! you make a living as an international fashion designer outside of the island ? cool. you’ve been here for two weeks, right ? staying in villa two ? you’re into face sitting & rimming, but not food play & blood play ? mr. conway will be sure to accommodate. i heard you were most excited for the beach, which makes sense. rumor has it you’re empathetic & domineering, but i think people should get to know you for themselves. { dottie, 22, est, she/her }

introducing elodie odeya bram, an international fashion designer who makes an annual pilgrimage to the island as part of her process of designing her next year’s summer line. she had a relatively

elodie has always strived to make sure that her brand is inclusive to all sizes and genders. another facet of her brand is that her clothes are considered kosher as they are fully made from plant or animal fibers but not both. her interest in design first came in high school when she was helping to craft costumes for a play and things spiraled from there.

she realized that it was her passion, she attended the parsons school for design, and graduated with an apprentice ship under another designer who had long since been an inspiration for her own work.

elodie’s first collection to make waves happened a few years ago, when she was thirty and her mentor had agreed to take six pieces and let a capsule collection of elodie’s creation as part of their slot in paris’ fashion week. her luck in this mentorship was not beyond her and her good fortune has been at the forefront of her mind for years. seldom is there a night where she does not thank her lucky stars for all the things that have happened and continue to happen.

her mentor, in opening so many doors, also opened the door to the resort and has brought her into the light of one of her favorite places of inspiration. as part of her stay in the villas, she does frequently sketch her own designs and occasionally, when she brings back women to spend time with her, she’ll dress some of them up in her newest designs to see how they’ll functionally work.

she’s quite likely to pull together a collection of women she wants to spend time with and there’s almost always some kind of sexual activity happening in her villa. whether fellow guests or employees of the villa, elodie’s indiscriminate in any girl she flirts with and wants to make a move on and we stan her for it.

{ madelyn cline, 23, cis female, she/her, pansexual } hey there, penny rourke ! you’re still a lifeguard and you’ve been working here for two weeks ? and you’re living in room 202. cool. you’re into rimming & exhibitionism, but not fisting & scat ? that’s what i thought. when you’re not working, you’re at the spa, right ? well, makes sense. people say you’re insightful & fickle, but i think they should get to know you for themselves. { dottie, 22, est, she/her }

introducing penelope jean “penny” rourke, a sweet natured girl with a petty streak who grew up in a small town in oregon and honestly only considers going back when the weather in the new york makes her forget about how bad the weather in oregon is.

she grew up in a lovely home with a big family, her mother owning her own small business and her father a detective at the local precinct. solidly middle class, there was very little that penny craved or needed that she did not get. she took on a maternal role in her home, a natural adoption as the oldest of seven children, and she had a hand in their upbringing. while others may have seen that as a burden, it was something that penny enjoyed with her whole heart.

when she went off to college, she applied to all of the ivy leagues and got a significant scholarship to columbia, which is where she met archibald hughes, son of a virginia senator and guy who she said, “you can’t sway my attention from my studies” to on their first day of meeting. she moved in with him in an off campus apartment their junior year of school. he was her greatest hype man and while they’d been having serious talks about marriage and their future.

her relationship with archie ended rather abruptly when his paranoia hit an all time high at the behest of his father. insidious rumors, according to penny, accusations of things she’d promised archie long before that she would never do. her devotion to him was near unbreakable and archie had found the one straw that broke her back and everything came crumbling down: he put his trust in someone else.

recently single, in need of a fresh start and a warm place to go for the summer, and on her summer break from law school, penny has been ready to engage in her first ever hoe phase and has already started it with some success. her ex has recently shown up on the property, though, and that’s made some of her more recent encounters awkward, to say the least, but she’s making it work.

{ tommy martinez, 26, cis male, he/him, pansexual } welcome, jamie flores! you make a living as a famous musician / drummer for the raptors outside of the island ? cool. you’ve been here for one week, right ? staying in room 401 ? you’re into threesomes & body writing, but not bathroom play & scat play ? mr. conway will be sure to accommodate. i heard you were most excited for the docks, which makes sense. rumor has it you’re charming & nosy, but i think people should get to know you for themselves.

introducing james sebastian “jamie” ibarra flores, known professionally as jamie flores. he makes a living as a drummer for the raptors, a band that has achieved critical success and have just wrapped up their first tour and the release of their first album. it was his idea to come to key passion in the first place and it honestly super tracks.

he’s been with the raptors for about three years and prior to joining with them, he’d heard about the resort and promised himself when he had enough to comfortably afford to go after setting his parents up with making sure that their mortgage was paid for and it wouldn’t be the literally most financially irresponsible decision he’s ever made when there were other things and people to prioritize.

prior to coming to the island, though, did he drop like $3k on a girl’s amazon wishlist because he’s simpin’ real hard ? yes. can he afford to do it ? Yes.

not particularly religious and verging on the edge of anarchist, jamie uses his platform to promote a lot of social issues and advocate for the reformation of most systems in the united states. he will not shut up when he talks about politics and one of his most used photos on his camera roll is a picture of his degree in political science from ucla. he’ll come at you with facts and an army of stans.

though he’s typically a relaxed kind of person he’s under the belief that he’s Totally Chill and this is Not At All True. he constantly wants to know 103% of the drama without being directly involved but he’ll do it from his couch and creeping through stan twitter on a burner account so if he accidentally likes something, it doesn’t get back to the band.

he loves ,,, reading fan fiction and reader imagines about himself.

sexually very open and just wants to have a good time while coming off the success of his tour with his bandmates.

#key intro #⟨ ‹ drea conway ⋅ crowned with sunlight，she is a queen here ⋅ headcanon. › ⟩#⟨ ‹ elodie bram ⋅ do not force innocence，it will only give way to chaos ⋅ headcanon. › ⟩#⟨ ‹ henry king ⋅ how human，drunk on the idea of love ⋅ headcanon. › ⟩#⟨ ‹ jamie flores ⋅ angel made devil，put no stock in smoke and mirrors ⋅ headcanon. › ⟩#⟨ ‹ penny rourke ⋅ a heart in a too small cage still beats ⋅ headcanon. › ⟩

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bonnissance · 6 years

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did this fun post (via @fortytworedvines) lead me down a fun plot!bunny path of Hecate winding herself up in knots about Dimity excluding her from staff nights, when in reality our beautiful sporty bi has simply been trying (and failing) to ask out the newest useless lesbian in Cackle’s staff aka Marigold Mould?

The answer is yes, so please enjoy.

pre-ship Dimity Drill/Marigold Mould, Hecate Hardbroom (Hackle and Hicsqueak both visible-ish and open for romantic or platonic readings) (TWW2017) teen, 2k+ CW: Feelings of isolation and unwantedness. Hecate needs some damn therapy but nothing heavier than the show.

Hecate knows she’s not the most likeable person in the world. Knows her focus and dedication to the Craft often come off as snobbish or self-centred and uncaring. That many wish she were softer, kinder, less prickly or hard to swallow.

She knows people wish she were different.

But she knows why she is the way she is, and truth be told, other people’s opinions don’t really matter to her (they used to, a long time ago, before she let hate-filled words spoken ring louder than reassurances from those with her best interests at heart and caused so much hurt in the fall out. She shut herself off, after that, and it served her well enough for most of her life; it is only now, only recently, that Hecate has truly learnt the lesson of not listening to those who simply do not care: be it the voices of others, or her mind’s own making. She will not make the same mistake again).

She also knows she isn’t the easiest person to work with, that many simply don’t see the same need for rigorous study and discipline she believes the Craft warrants, and so find her ways off putting. But she also knows she is right, that her methods help their youngest girls become the best witches they can be as they grow. Especially when paired with the softness of Miss Cackle and Miss Bat—which let their girls breath, regain their strength lest it be sapped away and leave them all brittle and easily broken—and Miss Drill’s focus on physical exertion—essential to the fitness of any witch wanting to fulfil their own potential.

She knows her ways have a place, here, at Cackle’s. Just as she knows she has a place, here, too. That within their somewhat eclectic band of educators who appreciate her talents, respect her and her abilities, and give her a space in which to use them, she has found her place in the world, finally found her home.

She thought that she had found her home.

It’s why it hurts so much, to hear she isn’t wanted here anymore. That the others don’t want her around anymore. That Dimity didn’t even want Hecate there to help celebrate her birthday.

And she can’t understand it. Because she’s sure she hasn’t done anything out of the ordinary to bother Dimity. In fact, in the aftermath of Agatha’s annihilation spell, in the wake of her and Gullet’s many, many betrayals, Hecate actually thought they were becoming quite close; that they might even have begun to bridge the space between friendly colleges and actual friends.

They’d spoken about it, over the break, when Dimity stayed put to help rebuild the castle. Spoken about what Dimity had done in their absence, and Hecate was impressed. With how strongly Dimity fought for the girls, how she kept the castle standing long enough to get everyone out, how she very nearly sacrificed herself in the process.

Dimity had played it off, pretended it wasn’t that big a deal, that any of the other teachers would have done the same. On the last point, Hecate conceded: many of their number would have done the same, if put in that position. But she also knew just how much power it took to do what Dimity had (knows what it would have cost her, has she been the witch casting, instead of trapped and helpless in that wretched painting along with Ada).

‘None of us would be here if it weren’t for you,’ she pointed out, voice clear and precise, as if she weren’t chocking on gratitude and just a hint of shame. ‘We owe you a great debt. One that I hope we may, in time, come close to repaying.’

Dimity had shrugged, looked a little speechless, her eyes a little wet; Hecate had left her to her thoughts with a heartfelt, ‘Thank you.’

Things had been decidedly warmer between them, after that, definitely friendlier (not that they’d ever been unfriendly, just more than they used to be). Which is why is actually hurts, to hear Miss Mould admit that Dimity had left her out.

Because she had never done that before. Had, in fact, gone out of her way to get Hecate to join in on a few occasions. Never talking around it like she had with Miss Gullet (It had been quite nice, actually, to not be the one left out, to know she wasn’t the last on everyone’s list. She thinks that’s the only thing she misses about Gullet: having proof that she isn’t the most hated teacher in the school. The one the girls are most afraid of, certainly. That, she knows, and doesn’t mind: a well-developed sense of respect always looks like fear, in her experience).

Because her colleagues, she was sure, appreciated what she brought to the school, what she contributed to their collective. And she doesn’t like being left out, not now she knows what it feels like to be included. She thought she’d left all this behind, but she was wrong.

It hurt more now than it ever has.

It Sticks in her throat when Miss Mould tells her; when Dimity brushes her off, pretending it was for Hecate’s benefit, not at her expense.

But she handles as best she can, manages it quite well, in fact. Until she hears it again, in the common room: her exclusion the stuff of gossip.

‘Yes, Dimity was saying during staff drinks last night—’

She stops listening, doesn’t hear the low rumble of confused whispers; looks away, doesn’t see the odd looks everyone else shoots Marigold, then Dimity. Doesn’t see the confusion in everyone else’s eyes about the staff outing that none of them were invited to either. Doesn't realise it isn’t just her.

Has no idea it’s not just her for weeks—almost a month—of Marigold’s happy voice recounting all the fun she’s been having, outside of work, with Dimity (‘What a shame everyone is always too busy to join,’ she muses one day. ‘Everyone works so frightfully hard, I hope they get a chance to join in some time.’)

If she’s heard, she might have thought harder about the frequency of these outings, about the others never attending, about Ada never mentioning anything about it; she doesn’t. Hecate has long since stopped listening.

Until Marigold spends a solid half an hour recounting the night before—her and Dimity stargazing by the North tower—and ‘isn’t it such a shame everyone has so many papers to grade and couldn’t join! It was a wonderful clear night, I’m sure you would have all had a wonderful time.’

Hecate stands silence and stiff while the rooms hums a gentle agreement (doesn’t see their shared glances, doesn’t hear the faintly whispered, ‘Bless, what a useless lesbian,’ a fond and disbelieving hush: ‘She hasn’t a clue yet, has she?’). Sneers at the fact that her colleagues would organise an evening of stargazing, an evening devoted to one of her specialties—a lesser focus that potions, she knows, but an area of expertise all the same—and not think to include her, before turning away and walking out of the room in a storm of disgust.

It’s an insult she wasn’t invited—not an oversight, or it slipped someone’s mind, and they thought she wouldn’t enjoy herself—an actual insult, to be excluded from her own specialty, something they all knew she would enjoy. She won’t stand for this anymore.

She hasn’t spoken to Miss Drill about it, not since the first time—she knows when she’s not wanted—but she resolves to now—because she doesn’t know why.

She finds Dimity walking along the tree line, accessing the perimeter for possible flying drill obstacles.

‘Miss Drill, might I have a word?’ she asks, clipped tones covering the raw emotion in her voice. She should have taken a moment to calm down.

‘Sure, what’s up?’ Miss Drill asks, light and breezy. Like she hasn’t a care in the world. Like she’s done nothing wrong. Like she hasn’t been cruel since term began.

‘It’s about these staff nights.’ She almost sneers when Miss Drill frowns at her. Like she doesn’t know what Hecate is talking about. Like Hecate has nothing to talk about. Like there’s nothing here to be talked about. ‘I understand I’m not the most social of witches, but whether or not I participate in staff related activities is for me to decide and no one else.’ The other witch opens her mouth—to rebut, deny, pretend it’s all in Hecate’s head, she’s sure—Hecate doesn’t let her speak. ‘As Deputy Head, I deserve an invitation, irrespective of my suitability for the event, or whether the rest of the staff want my attendance.’

Dimity does a very good impression of a goldfish when she’s caught out. ‘No, Miss Hardbroom, it’s not—’

‘Rest assured, I have no intention of including myself in situation where I am clearly not wanted.’

‘That’s not—’

‘But,’ she interrupts, again; finger raise in a sharp point. ‘To not even invite me is frankly rude, and I would appreciate it if you stopped excluding me from such things.’

Miss Drill looks at her like Hecate has two heads. ‘What? No! I haven’t been excluding you, I’ve just been inviting Marigold.’

Hecate sniffs, and sneers. There it is, the crux of the matter: they have a new teacher—kinder, softer, nicer—and now they don’t want her at all. It hurts far more than it ought to, and she hates herself for caring so much.

But she is, above all, Deputy Head. She has a duty to her staff, no matter what it costs her.

‘She is, I suppose, a positive addition to our collective. I’m glad she is finding her place with the rest of the teachers.’

She wonders how quickly she can transfer away without it looking like a tantrum.

‘No, Hecate,’ Miss Drill starts, taking a step forward. Hecate is thrown by her first name, by the fondness of Dimity’s voice when she says it. ‘I mean I’ve just been asking Marigold.’

Hecate blinks, incredulous. A moment ago, she was upset and self-righteous; now she’s just confused. Dimity looks at her imploringly—willing her to understand—and she doesn’t know what to say. Eventually she settles on, ‘But all those staff nights…’

‘There haven’t been any,’ Dimity says with a shrug. ‘Every time I ask her out, she assumes it’s a group invite. I went along with it the first time because she caught me off guard, but it keeps happening and I don’t know how to tell her these aren’t staff outings without actually telling her.’

‘Why don’t you do that?’ she asks without thinking, frowning and more confused than ever.

Dimity sniffs. Flashes Hecate a smug, disbelieve smirk. ‘You ever admitted you fancy someone to their face?’

For a moment, Hecate feels ten inches tall. She pouts, lips tight, and swallows. ‘Point taken.’

Dimity chuckles, then huffs out a sigh. ‘See thing is, I’m positive she’s a bit keen on me too— otherwise I’d have stopped asking ages ago—she’s always so happy to see me, and then she gets this light in her eyes when no one else arrives, but then there’s nothing after that,’ she explains dejectedly. ‘Either we have to head back to the castle which breaks the mood, or time get away from us and then it’s late and there’s class in the morning. I mean, I tried offering to walk to her to her door once, but it was hardly a sensible suggestion and it didn’t get me anywhere.’ She huffs again, looks at Hecate with a face like a kicked puppy. ‘I’m getting to my wits ends.’

Hecate doesn’t know how to handle situations like this—if she were Ada, she might offer a reassuring squeeze to the shoulders; Pippa would offer donuts or some other terribly sugary confection and find a way to make Dimity laugh—but Hecate doesn’t know how to offer reassurance, not for things like this.

She does, however, know how to solve a problem. ‘Have you considered asking her for private art lessons?’

Dimity double takes, wide eyed and happily startled. ‘No, I—I hadn’t thought of that,’ she mumbles, her face lighting up as she beams. ‘Goddess, Hecate, you’re a genius!’ Dimity yells, and pulls Hecate into a brief and startling hug.

Hecate yelps slightly, arms up and fingers tensed, and feels a laugh bubble up her throat: it shifts into a smile as Dimity lets go almost as quickly, when she sees the look on her face.

‘Thanks pal, you’re a lifesaver!’ she yells over her shoulder and she races towards the castle.

Hecate watches Dimity scurry away with a gentle smile that grows with each passing moment. Grows with the satisfaction of being helpful bubbling in her heart, the delight of having helped a friend warming her cheeks, the happiness of having a friend lighting up her whole face.

She lets herself smile a few moments longer, filing details away to recount to Pippa during their next mirror call. She wonders briefly if this feeling is why people gossip the way they do as she transfers herself outside Ada’s office door; thinks she may yet come to understand as she knocks gently and is bidden ‘come in,’ with a smile still curling at the corner of her lips.

#TWW2017 #hecate hardbroom #dimity drill #is a babe and i love our sporty outdoors bi gal so much #took on a damn falling castle and held her own #what a gal she's so fkn ripped in muscle and magic #*happy sigh*#i wrote a thing #the worst witch #this is set in a universe where mould isn't a psychic moth witch and hasn't been plotting the downfall of cackle's since she arrived #she's just a hot lady that's caught dimity's eye #get it gals #(other than it's pretty canon compliant)#also hecate is a stargazing moon loving lesbian pass it on #there is a witch i love and her name is hecate hardbroom

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