#And LENORE CAME OUT SO GOOD

[coconut530]

Stephpotterdrawtober & 31 Days of Nevermore Day 16: Honey & Kiss of Death

[baldurs-gape]

Gap in the Resume

In a way, Gale should have been grateful to Elminster, the man had pulled strings to get him the interview. Life was all well and good but he did feel a little guilty for relying so heavily on Astarion, not to mention it was setting a bad example that they made ends meet through skills of theft and contract killings. Determined to make an honest life, Gale had started job hunting once life had started to settle a bit and his hands weren't quite so full. Brushing out an invisible wrinkle from his tunic, he waited on the creaky leather sofa. Finally, the door opened.

"Mr. Dekarios?"

Standing so quickly his vision speckled, Gale tried to look confident as he approached the Dean of the school. It wasn't Blackstaff, he couldn't go back there, not after everything but a less prestigious school might just be what he needed.

"Good to meet you, and please, call me Gale." He shook hands with her eagerly and settled on the even less comfortable chair by the impressive desk.

"Elminster has talked highly about you and your skills. It made me think that perhaps you were a little too modest on your CV."

"Yes, well, some things are easier to explain in words than with in on paper."

The Dean looked at him over her glasses with a smile. "Well, here's your chance, Gale. Why would an ex-Chosen of Mystra herself want to teach at our school of all places?"

Rather than say that he was scraping the barrell and needed his old mentor's help in getting honest work, Gale tried to smile, cleared his throat and straightened his back. He'd rehearsed this, it was going to be fine, smooth even."

"Teaching has been somewhat thrust upon me in the last eight years or so. It's a little difficult to always keep track of time in the Underdark. It wasn't a career I had ever really entertained until I got firsthand experience of how rewarding it could be."

So far so good, the Dean nodded along and settled back with a more relaxed posture. Emboldened, Gale decided it was better to throw in some examples to back his words up.

"Perhaps my proudest moment as a teacher was when I took a small group on an expedition towards Lenore's tower and we encountered yet another minotaur - I swear they are the cockroaches of the Underdark - and the six with me made a meal of it." The somewhat puzzled look he received had him rushing to explain. "Before it would have been a lot of snapping and snarling at each other, more blood wasted than drank. Sebastian had a nasty habit of trying to claw the eyes out of anyone who so much as was near him when drinking. Yet there he was, happily sharing the bounty with five others!"

"Mr. Dekarios, Gale-" the Dean held up a finger, "-just what exactly do you teach? I was under the impression you were a wizard."

"I am!" Indignant, Gale huffed. "But you try teaching magic to 7000 feral vampire spawn. Manners had to come first."

"Seven. Thousand. Vampire. Spawn."

Nodding with vigour, Gale's arms came into play as he began to explain.

"We were responsible for them after freeing them. Well, first we had to sort out the Netherbrain while the Gur rounded them up and kept them safe from everyone including themselves. It wasn't like we could abandon them. I happen to take responsibility very seriously. It began with a book club for the more recently turned and those interested and just grew from there." Barely stopping to take a breath, he continued, "Trust me, I wanted to show them the wonders of magic but some of them couldn't even read, a tracesty if you ask me."

A strained smile appeared on the Dean's face. She sat primly, hands clasped on the table between them.

"Did this happen after your status as Chosen was revoke?"

"Yes. Well, not immediately. I spent a year trying to tame the Netherese orb in my chest." At that, the Dean looked alarmed. "Don't worry, it's all taken care of now, it's old news. But for a year I worked heavily on the research of the elimination of Netherese fragments bonded to a human entity. Alas before I could refine my findings and publish, a Nautiloid snatched me up as I was hanging my washing. Now, I know mindflayers don't have emotions in the same capacity but it was downright rude. Then they put the tadpole in my brain."

By that point the strained smile had fallen away and the Dean was outright alarmed, edging away from the table and away from Gale. Off script and caught up in the story, he wasn't slowing down.

"Anyway, you've probably heard of the Baldur's Gate Netherbrain incident. That was me and a couple of others who are now good friends of mine. But try putting that on a resume. It wasn't relevant to teaching magic really. I don't want to walk into the classroom as some mighty hero, I just want to be normal and treated as such. And now the spawn as all mostly settled, I feel I can leave them without fear of any incidents. I did so enjoy teaching them that I thought; why not? I could do this with young people. They'll probably be more likely to singe off your eyebrows by mistake than try to drain you of blood. Much cheaper if you ask me, scrolls of revivify used to make up a good 70% of our weekly expenses."

Tirade over, Gale leaned back in his chair and sighed, glad to have got that all out. A little sheepish at having gone so far off script, he offered a tiny smile. "Do you have any other questions about the gap in my resume? Because I don't think I touched on the mental health of students. Mystra demanded repeatedly that I kill myself. It is safe to say I wouldn't ever be anything but accepting and nurturing of even the most frustrating minds in the classroom. They're safe with me."

"Actually," the Dean's voice was a little breathy, "I think you've been very informative, thank you. I can let you know the outcome of the interview in the next tenday once all interviews for the position have concluded. Thank you so much for coming in today."

She stood and Gale copied. This time she didn't stand close to usher him out the room, a rather large amount of space was left between them. Gale's heart sank. It wasn't the first time an interview ended so abruptly and with such false smiles. Nodding, he turned to the door and left.

Outside, Astarion was leaning against the wall, covered from head to toe for safety.

"How did it go?" he asked.

Sadly, Gale shook his head and deflated. "I went off script. At least she didn't call security I guess?"

"Not to worry. We'll find a place. Hells, we could probably even found it, the Underdark Academy, a place for the unruly to come and be transformed into etiquette experts. What do you think?"

Laughing, Gale bumped their shoulders and sighed, trying to let go of the disappointment that had settled in his gut.

"You say the sweetest things to me, don't you?"

Their hands tangled until fingers interlaced and Astarion pulled it up to press a kiss to the back of Gale's. This job wasn't to be but that was alright. They had all the time in the world to figure it all out. And for Gale to discover that while he was in the interview, Astarion had stolen anything that moved from the school.

[cillianmesoftlyyy]

At the Cabaret Pt. 1 | Tommy Shelby x fem!character

Summary: Lenore is a dancer at the Birmingham Cabaret when she's approached by an estranged neighbor and notorious gangster, Tommy Shelby, with a business prospect. Seeing him again brings up old feelings and new conflicts that they must navigate in the topsy turvy world of Cabaret.

Warnings: Heavy misogyny (1920s Cabaret... I mean), mentions of sexual assault, and objectification. Please don't read if these topics are upsetting to you- I'm writing from a historical perspective and some of the elements I write about are disturbing. Take care while reading. This story only gets worse from here lol. I use a few modern songs in the story but imagine them in a 1920s style (aka Post Modern Jukebox). I really recommend listening to the songs I have listed below because I reference them in the story.

word count: 4125k

Come with me- Preservation Hall Jazz Band 🎶

Ain't That a Grand and Glorious Feeling? - Annette Hanshaw 🎵

Last Nite- The Strokes 🎶

PDA- Interpol 🎵

Not proofed- my b folks!

She felt powerful when she stepped on stage. She felt untouchable. She performed five days a week at Birmingham’s Cabaret Club during the late night slot when the wealthiest clientele slipped in through the backdoor to huddle around the stage. She was lucky that her life had ended up like this and not working the streets like so many girls she knew had to after the war years. She tried to get them jobs in the Cabaret but their addictions to uppers and downers and strong cocktails made it hard for them to follow the routine of Cabaret. It required discipline to arrive at the club everyday at three in the afternoon and work new routines until the doors opened at eight, and they worked hard. She wasn’t an especially good dancer but her energy and confidence on stage won her the best slot of the night and the notoriety that nicknamed her “Lady Lenore.” 

Her shows were sensual, sure, but mainly they were performances. She sang and sparkled onstage with her elaborate costumes. And sure, men often followed her backstage, seeking an encore in not so polite terms but she was the master of her own image. She was allowed to say no when she wanted to because she was “Lady Lenore.” She wasn’t a stranger to male guests coming by to visit her at night and many times, she allowed them to join her in her dressing room shared with the other performers, offering him whisky and resting her feathered head against his chest. But these were the boys she recognized from the factories her father had worked in, that her brothers had worked in before the war. She flirted with the rich cats who came by to seduce her but only the boys with coal grease still stuck in the curves of their muscles made it farther into the reaches of her corseted costume. She had a preference and she didn’t care who knew it. 

What won her fame, besides her voice, were her costumes. The early twenties offered an exciting new spread of style that she latched onto like Vicodin. She loved red, so she dyed most of her costumes a deep scarlet with millions of beads sewn onto the surface. She pulled on the red bodysuit, fixing the ropes of red beads draped around her shoulders and bare thighs. She didn’t have large breasts so the front stuck tightly to her chest but elegant bodice distracted disappointed eyes. Her blonde hair was bobbed around her heart-shaped face. Lucy, one of her friends, secured the devil cap on her head, the strap going beneath her chin. The horns were stuffed with couch stuffing to stand up straight. She under-drew her lips, creating a heart with red lipstick. The rest of her makeup was minimal, making the lipstick stand out. She buckled her nude-colored dancing heels across the top of her foot and shook out her arms nervously. 

She could hear the announcer out on stage with his squeaky voice. She pulled on her red satin gloves and made her way slowly to the curtains offstage waiting for her cue. Johnny the club manager squealed, “and now, the girl you’ve been waiting for, the queen of our hearts and the sweetheart of Birmingham, Lady Lenore!” He ran off stage and a spot opened against the curtain. 

She lifted her lips into an innocent smile and stuck her arm out through the slit in the red velvet curtain. She trailed her finger down the fabric, teasing the slit beneath the hot spotlight. The audience cheered loudly, feet stomping on the bar floor. 

“Aw come on out, darlin!” A man hollered from the audience and she laughed quietly behind the heavy fabric. Whistles followed his brave shout and she shook her finger naughtily at them, still obscured by the curtain. 

“Now, now boys. That’s no way to ask a lady. I was gonna be real nice to you tonight, and I mean real nice.” The men whistled again and slammed their hands on the drinking tables. 

“Please, honey!” 

“Come on, love!” 

She slipped her arms back behind the curtain and giggled.

“Oh, boys! You really do know how to make a girl feel so good!” She squealed, “open the curtain, Johnny!” 

The curtain swung open on its tracks and she placed her hands on her accented hips. Her bare thighs warmed under the hot spot. She switched into her Lady Lenore facade, apologizing raspily, “sorry about that boys, I was a bit nervous.” 

Men howled in the audience and stood to whistle. She put a dramatic finger to her lips, biting it gently. 

“Gee, thanks. Now let me show you what I can really do.” She chuckled darkly and nodded to the band beside the stage. “Hit it, honey.” She called with a smile. A ragtime track began and she twirled, pulling the hair from her shoulders to show off the back of the costume, her butt just peeking out beneath the underwear-like bodice. She strutted across the stage with a flick of her leg, turning into a jumpy great-vine, tap dancing without the loud clacks. She reached out her gloved hand to the audience and gasped when the music jumped, smirking as she took quick steps backwards. She did the same to the otherside, each action dominated by the sexual squeal of the trumpet. She took slow steps downstage to the drum beat and lowered herself slowly to her knees, playing with her long strand of pearls. 

“I just feel so good tonight,” she bit her lip and shook her shoulders and lay back, still on her knees, her sparkly crotch exposed to the roar of the crowd. When a man wolf-whistled she sat back up quickly, an innocent smile pulling at her painted lips. “Oops!” She giggled and crawled forward on her hands and knees. She reached the end of the stage and swung her legs over gracefully. She went over to the fat cat at the first table and stroked his long white beard. 

“Say, you look like a good boy,” She purred and sat abruptly on his lap, “now what do you want for Christmas? Or more importantly what do I want?” She pouted out her lip, thinking. The men in the audience laughed. 

“Anything you’d like sweetheart.” The man chuckled and she smiled. 

“Ohh, Daddy! That’s exactly what I wanted to hear! But say, aren’t you gonna ask me if I’ve been a good girl?”

“Well, have you?” 

“Hmm, one second, Daddy,” She stood up from his lap and cleared her throat loudly. “Do you boys think I've been a good girl?” She asked the room and smiled when she received stomps and applause. “And do you think I should get anything I want?” She added, biting her lip. 

“You’re all I want, love!” One man yelled from the bar and she clutched her heart. 

“That’s the right answer, boy!” She called back and laughed, returning to the lit stage. A microphone had been set up centerstage while she was in the audience. She shimmied up to the microphone. 

“Y’all ever been to New Orleans?” She quipped in her best southern accent and winked at the band who burst into, “Come with Me.”

A line of feathered dancers came out onto stage, flirting with the audience with their scandalous dance fan dance. 

Come with me to New Orleans

I'll show you a great time

All your dreams will come true

A' With me by your side

Her raspy voice echoed out into the small club. She scanned the crowd, her fingers cupping the wide microphone. The men in the crowd smoked cigarettes and cigars, separating them by class and income. The day-laborers sat with crushed cigarettes in ashtrays while the fat cats still smoked the same cigar they had light when the night began. 

So

Come with me to the' New Orleans

I'll show you a great time

All your dreams will come true

A' With me by your side 

She smiled as she sang, looking down at the audience through her eyelashes. She adjusted her red velvet garter, her fingers trailing up the fabric on her crotch to her stomach. The dancers behind her dipped their fans to show their cleavage. 

Come with me to New Orleans

I'll show you a great time

All your dreams will come true

A' With me by your side

She finished the song with a low voice and the audience roared once again. She took an extra fan from one of the dancers and held it in front of her body. With the large fan, she did look naked, tricking those who were drunk in the audience to believe she was nude like a game of peek-a-boo. “Ain't that Grand and Glorious” marked the beginning of a new musical number and she started singing, traveling to either end of the stage. She moved her fan to her back like a peacock, pushing what cleavage she did have forward with her arms. 

Now is there any one present

Who was ever in love

If it’s so you know how

I’m feeling right now

Everything is so pleasant

She broke out into a brief timestep combination and moved the fan to her chest, just showing her legs and face. 

You’re so full of bliss

You just feel like knocking wood

She planted and shook her hips to the knocking noise. 

And when you naturally say yes

Ain’t that a grand and glorious feeling! 

She spun around and planted the fan on the top of her butt, bending over to show off her ass to the audience who cheered. She spun again and did a quick Cincinnati step during the instrumental break. 

I’ve got something to say 

When that band starts to play

She raised the fan above her head, showing off her costume once again, as everyone in the room sang the last line with her: 

I get a grand and glorious feeling

“That’s all!” She smiled and the spot went out. She hurried off-stage with the others and ducked into her dressing room, returning hugs and hollow laughs with the other girls.

“You were wonderful, Nore!” A dancer hugged her around her stiff waist and she let out a repressed breath. 

“Thank you, thank you. Gee, I’m happy it's over with. Father Christmas in the front row got a little too excited if you know what I mean.” She rolled her eyes and the girls laughed. Clara patted her on the back and slipped through the dressing room door to go on with the following act. 

“Break a leg, Clara babes!” She teased warmly and she tittered her thanks. They could hear the crowd grow impatient as they waited for the next round of entertainment. She sat down at her place at the makeup counter and removed the horned cap from her head. Lucy slipped into the dressing room, closing it quietly behind her so the sound wouldn’t carry onstage. 

“Nore, great job as always.” She sat beside her and intertwined her fingers with Nore’s. The dancers switched their tops and bottoms, each barely covering anything of their anatomy. 

“Thanks, Luce.” She wiggled in her seat and slid the large rings off her fingers and put them in her pink jewelry box. 

“Johnny wanted me to tell you that there’s a fella in the audience that wants to see you.” Lucy grimaced. 

“I have another show tonight, I can’t.” She sighed and fixed her lipstick. 

“He said it’s important.” 

“He always says that.” She laughed curtly. 

“Sure but I think he means it this time, Nore. I would do it.” 

“Why? Is it a cat?” She raised her eyebrow at Lucy and frowned, “He is isn’t he?” 

“It's Thomas Shelby, Nore.” She whispered close to Nore’s ear and sat back again, biting her lip anxiously. 

Her heart fell into her stomach and she looked at Lucy through the mirror for a moment. She cleared her throat and looked down at her red gloves. 

“So? He doesn’t own me,” She tried to sound brave. 

“No, but he owns half of Birmingham.” Lucy retorted and started again, “and besides, he used to be a factory boy, you remember don’t you? He used to live on our street!”

“That was before the war, Lucy. He’s changed since then. We all have.” 

“Wasn’t your brother friends with Thommy?” She asked carefully, not wanting open old wounds.

“Like I said, Luce, we’ve all changed. I haven’t spoken to her in ages. The war was hard on everyone, even the Shelbys.” She sighed. Lucy looked down at her naked thighs pressed against the chair and took in a deep breath. 

“You’ll do it though, won’t you?” 

“If I don’t have a choice…” She shrugged and stared at herself in the mirror, “then I guess I will. Help me out of this corset, won’t you please?” She stood and Lucy undid the tough clasps on the back that insured the piece wouldn’t fly open during the act, no matter how many hands probed it. She shrugged the top off, her breasts sitting back against her chest. She put on the white satin bra and short set laid out for her second performance. She rolled on her stockings and clipped them into her garters to keep them from falling down. Lucy fastened a tulle train onto the back of her shorts and fixed the edges. She buckled her heels and fit the glitzy headband around her forehead. Someone switched her pearls for a necklace with small gold stars, and her red gloves for blush pink. She brushed a little kohl behind her eyes and sprayed herself with perfume, sticky and sweet. 

Her second number was more choreographed and started like this:

She and the dancers entered with chairs. The chairs were arranged with her on center stage. The audience applauded and whooped and the girls smiled as brightly as they could beneath the white hot spot. “Last Nite” strikes up with the jumpy stutter of piano. It was a straight-forward dance. The hardest part was singing as she moved, bicycle-kicking her legs above her head in the chair. She abandoned the chair half-way through the song and scat at the microphone, accompanied by the instrumental riff. 

They don’t understand

No, girlfriends, they won’t understand

A cheer went up from the crowd, beer spilling from raised glasses. 

Last night he said

“Oh, baby, I feel so down”

“And it’s turnin’ me off when I feel left out”

So I, turned around

She turned slowly, kicking the tulle train back out as she did with her heel. Her arms were raised above her head, smiling wide. 

“Oh darling no care no more

I know this for sure, I’m walking out, I’m walking out that door

And ain’t gonna understand

She winked and blew kisses to the growing crowd in the audience. She scanned the faces at the tables for Peaky Blinders. Then she saw the tell-tale peaky cap pulled down over his face. She couldn’t see his face in the darkened house but the way his table was separated from the rest in the club, and completely empty save the man sitting there with Irish Whisky told her enough. The crowd’s applause came to an end and she snapped back into character, curseying and raising her hand to the band. 

“Thank you!” She twirled once more to show off her ensemble and curled her finger at Johnny who was still standing off stage. 

“Oh, Johnny!” She called him out on stage and when he waddled over she put her chin on his shoulder, “Get these wonderful men a drink huh?” She smiled innocently. The crowd exploded with hoots and hollers. “That’s for making me meet with Shelby without asking me first, Johnny.” She growled beneath her breath and smiled at the crowd, “sweet dreams, boys!” The men waved from the audience and the girls scurried off stage. 

She was too distracted to speak to anyone right after the show. She went straight to the dressing room and removed the tulle train from her shorts, grimacing as she did though it caused her no pain. Tommy was too smart to fall for her Lady Lenore act and she silently cursed herself for making the character such a staple of her success. He would be able to see through her confidence to her fear wallowing in her eyes. Some of the girls helped her quickly slip into a blush pink dress, the drop waist brushing against her hips. She changed into her normal heels, shiny black mary janes, and pulled off her headband. She left the star necklace around her neck but removed the gloves and extra jewelry. Lucy wiped off her bright red lipstick, changing it for a more casual color. One of the younger girls, Lily, ran in and called for her. 

“Nore, Johnny said to take the spare dressing room.” 

“Got it, thanks.” She nodded and exhaled loudly, pushing air through her nose. “He has everything fucking planned out,” she cursed below her breath. “Is he going to undress me for him too?” She grumbled and wiped kohl fallout from beneath her eyes. 

“He may not want that.” Lucy offered. 

“That’s what men always want, Luce.” She responded and sighed. With one last smile, she opened the door into an adjoining room called the spare dressing room. It was called that but it had never been one. There was a bed against the back wall with wood bed-frame and carved posts. The bed was dressed with clean sheets everyday and draped with a heavy red quilt to keep out the December cold. This was the nicest room out of the lot and it was reserved for our best clientele. A table and chairs separated the bed from the main door to the hallway. A bar cart sat idly against the side wall, stocked with cheap liqueur and towels. On the opposite side was a lounge in dark red fabric to hide stains. The wood floors were cold without the heaters and she could feel the chill even through her heels. She perched herself on the arm of the lounge and settled, waiting for Tommy Shelby to arrive. 

He didn’t know when he came in, he wasn’t worried if he happened to walk in on anyone, and he just didn’t care. He avoided her eyes as he stepped into the room and closed the door, loud voices carried down the hallway like the smell of cigarette smoke. When the door was firmly closed behind him, he finally caught her eyes.  

“Hello Mr. Shelby.” She didn’t move to stand.

“Miss Panning,” he gave her a curt nod, “or shall I call you Lady Lenore?”

She smiled and rolled her eyes. “Miss Panning unless you’d prefer to call me Lady Lenore.”

“Well Miss Panning,” he walked to the table and lit a cigarette, dropping the lighter and cigarette case on the table, “I’m sorry for disturbing your evening.” He gestured loosely to the direction of the stage, talking around the cigarette. 

She sighed and stood, taking a cigarette that Tommy offered out to her. She held the cigarette between her lips as he flicked open the lighter and the cigarette caught. “Did you like my performance, Mr. Shelby.” She smiled, blowing out the smoke. He looked down at his shoes and exhaled a cloud of heavy gray smoke, his hands in his pockets. When he looked up his smile was pained, his brows furrowed. 

“Eh, not really my thing.” 

“Mmm of course. From what I’ve heard you like it quick and dirty. You’re not one for a performance, are you?” She teased darkly and moved to the bed, sitting at the end. He watched her, his eyes calm and unfazed. She flicked the ash of her cigarette to the floor and crossed her legs, the slit in her dress showing her thigh. He stared at her thigh, puffing on his cigarette.

“What do you want, Mr. Shelby?” She asked him bravely. He tore his eyes from her exposed leg and  looked into her eyes. Exhaling and pulling the cigarette from his lips he rubbed his thumb across his thick lips.

“I want us to be friends, Nore.” He said finally, his voice restrained, holding back a layer of information he wouldn’t easily give up. 

“I’m Nore now?” She almost sneered. 

“We were neighbors once if you remember.” 

“Those days are far behind us now, Mr. Shelby.” She tucked her hair behind her ear and looked down at the ground. 

“Tommy.” He inclined his head slightly and stubbed out his cigarette. “And maybe they are but that doesn’t mean we can’t become friends again now, does it? 

He’d said something like that years before when she was fifteen, he was seventeen, and best friends with her brother. Her brother told him that she had a huge crush on him and he’d treated her kindly, offering to be her friend, though nothing more. Hearing him now brought her back to that moment in the alley between their houses, ducking beneath the laundry lines. He’d told her that maybe when she was older… but he went to war and never came back the same. He hadn’t spoken more than a few sentences to her since, plagued by guilt. She’d lost her brother in the war. 

“Why do you want to be friends, Tommy?” She asked slowly, fighting the images of her brother that entered her mind when she looked at him. 

He lit another cigarette and pulled it from his lips. 

“I think we can help each other.” 

“Oh?” She switched legs, letting the fabric slide slowly over her skin. He watched, his jaw clenched, in what she read as distaste.

“I need someone who’s willing to be my eyes and ears inside this club. I know Billy Kimber and his men meet here.” 

“Does this job require more than ‘eyes’ and ‘ears,’ Tommy?” She looked down at her cigarette. 

“It would require anything that gets them comfortable to talk to you, you can fill in the rest.” He looked over at the whiskey. “Whisky?” He asked and she nodded. 

“Yes, please.” 

He took two thick crystal glasses from the cart and poured. He rounded the table to hand her a glass and she took it, looking up into his blue eyes. He took a deep drink from the whiskey and sighed. She drank and swirled the caramel liquor around in the glass. 

“You know, Tommy, I don’t sleep with all of my clientele. Believe it or not but I prefer working boys over men like Kimber. I’m still a Small Heath girl, Tommy. That’ll never change, no matter how many rich men come in here promising me globs money in return for a quick fuck.”

He looked down at his shoes and nodded, thinking. He downed the rest of the whisky and cleared his throat. 

“Will you do it?” He asked. 

“What do I get in return?” She sighed. 

“Money and protection, of course.” He put his glass on the table and leaned against it, sucking on his cigarette. 

“Anything else?” She smiled softly.

He looked at her, expressionless, trying to determine what she wanted from him.

“What else would you like, Lenore?” He asked softly. 

She swallowed the rest of her whiskey and smiled sweetly at him, taking from her character. 

“Well, if we’re really to be friends, I want you to come to my shows.” She stood and reached around his waist to the ashtray and stubbed out her cigarette, looking directly in his eyes. 

“And besides,” she continued softly, “men like nothing more than competition. If Kimber learns that you fancy me, he’ll do whatever he can to get with me.” 

She took a step back and took a second cigarette from Tommy’s breast pocket. He lit it for her without a word. 

“Alright,” he nodded, his face unchanging, “anything else?” 

Her eyes softened and she fought back weak tears.

“Look after my father, Tommy. Make sure he’s safe too. If not for this, for James.” The mention of her brother stilled something in him. He nodded and cleared his throat. He turned and walked to the door to the hallway. 

“Tommy,” she called from the bed. He paused with his hand resting on the door handle, “you know he’s going to kill me before they tell me anything you want to hear.” She said softly, almost sadly. 

He said nothing for a moment and inhaled, looking over his shoulder though his eyes didn’t meet hers.

“I won’t let that happen.” He said evenly and left, the door closing loudly behind him. She tried to still her shaky hands, dragging on the shrinking cigarette.

_______

end part 1 here :)

[nevermoreconfessions]

Hey there, buddy. I hope you're having a good day by the time you read this.

Okay, here's the thing, my brain occasionally chooses to remember little details that come back to haunt me and hit me in the skull like a fucking boomerang. And due to the last chapter of the free pass, I come to leave here the one that has bothered me the most lately for you to suffer with me.

Why on earth would Thaddeus want anyone to talk to Lenore and why would Ira consent to that?

No. Seriously. When Annabel tries to ask about Lenore, Thaddeus even denies having a daughter, why would he want to alleviate Lenore's loneliness by asking a young woman about her own age to visit her for company? On Ira's side, yes, the man wants Thaddeus to like him, but the guy seems like someone pretty obsessed with appearances, why would he want his precious daughter to be related to a potentially dangerous lunatic who is locked in the attic?

That makes me think the fact that they asked Annabel was a lie. But then, how did Annabel find out about Lenore? What were her intentions in wanting to meet her?

I have more. But this one has been eating me alive now that we had another flashback.

Oh, my favorite blog sent me a submission. Yes, buddy, we're suffering together. Have been for a little while, considering how I feel about the topic.

I think about Thaddeus and his actions quite a lot (when I'm reminded of his existence), actually, because he's an enigma. He's my version of a walking paradox.

Let's say he did contact Annabel Lee to be, as she had quoted, "A good influence for his hysterical daughter." He had done so with the knowledge that Annabel Lee was a temporary friend, that Lenore was forever going to be a spinster, and after that?

Nothing. No husband, no friends, no life outside of the Vandernact estate. Just a good, influenced "lady" in a house on her own.

Why?

One can only assume that in some sickening way, Thaddeus cared. He cared as much as a misogynistic Victorian man mourning his son, the only heir to the estate and wealth, can possibly be.

I can somewhat back this train of thought up with episode 65: he did seem shocked at the news of his daughter's possible death. That was the face of a man with fear in his heart. Then, after denying that he had a daughter in the first place, he looked...guilty. Truly and utterly guilty. For a moment, I pitied him.

Just for a single moment.

That then begs the question (isn't this a complicated topic?) — why did he then deny Lenore's existence?

Well, I have a theory or two.

1. He was not alone. There were servants in that room, and we all know that Thaddeus had intented to keep Lenore's existence a secret between himself and Annabel Lee.

2. Stay with me on this one, because its held together by bubblegum and a bent paperclip. Are we all aware of the stages of grief? First came the shock. We've seen that on Thaddeus's face. Then, there's denial.

Onto Ira.

Well, I can see this one. Annabel Lee did say that this was an arrangement made by their fathers — so, what did Ira, a man obsessed with appearances, get in return for his saught-after daughter to chill out with a mad woman?

I'm not sure if this has been noticed, but the Whitlocks are staying in the Vandernact's estate in New York for the social season. That's a pretty big favor.

There's no downside on Ira's side if all goes according to plan. Annabel Lee makes a friend with a girl whose existence is to be kept secret, all while Ira finally finds her a eligible husband in New York.

I suppose neither Thaddeus nor Ira considered the fact that their daughters might be achingly sapphic and fall for each other in the process, subsequently leading Lenore to burn an entire house to the ground for the slim chance of Annabel Lee's hand in marriage.

Isn't this a complicated situation?

[blacknedsoul-blog]

Random Tought of the day (VII)

So, as I continue to review my notes on rogues and knights (I love you, Lenore), I scratched the potato as to why the Deans would want to keep this pair of lovebirds apart, and came up with a rather specific delusion:

The suspicion that it's possible to escape Nevermore.

But it's the kind of shit that, even if you're someone who's really capable, it would be impossible for you to figure out, let alone pull off on your own. That's why the Deans encourage this aggressively competitive atmosphere: they tell you there's only one life, they pit students against each other in training tests, and there's a scoreboard to give a sense of hierarchy.

In this light, the fact that there are two students who are willing to cooperate because they are a couple is a problem in itself.

But Annabel and Lenore are an even bigger problem, because these two idiots are extraordinarily competent people on their own, who complement each other for a change.

And the icing on the cake: they are natural leaders.

Their methods are different, but Annabel has the ability to create strong teams that find reasons to cooperate, even if it's out of interest or fear, and she's an excellent long-term thinker. The Misfists, for their part, have a grit, a ferocity, and a loyalty to each other that is enormous; Lenore may not be a long-term player, but she is extremely cunning, opportunistic as they come, and these people would die for her if they saw the need.

Imagine for a moment if you could get Eulalie and Prospero around a table to brainstorm about how the Spectre works. If you could get Duke and Will to spy together. If Montresor and Ada would use their Spectre abilities, not to hurt you, but to help you artificially revise your memories, because after all, Eulalie and Morella are there to help you after such a traumatic experience.

Annabel and Lenore could do that. Annabel's teammates will follow her because she promises results, and the Misfists blindly trust that Lenore knows what she's doing. You'd have all those minds- each highly competent in its own right- actively searching for a way out of this place under the leadership of two people with complementary visions of how to deal with obstacles.

It would be impossible for them not to find something eventually.

And I think that's what the Deans want to avoid. Right now it's working for them, Lenore finds no reason to trust Annabel (with good reason) and Annabel is too conditioned to believe that others will betray her that she would hardly think of it.

But I wonder how this will play out and how the Deans will act when these people get out of hand.

[gmalaart]

Still Waters (Run Deep)

The water parts around you, swirling and shifting as you pick apart the threads of memory you have chosen to comb through today. Something pulls the edges of your attention, lifting you out of your self imposed work. You huff and the air leaving your lungs propels you further up, away from the smell of your childhood home and the sound of your brother’s attempts at playing the piano. As the bubbles cloud your vision and the pressure of the zee and of time fades, the melody changes. It becomes louder. It sways from a piano to a violin. It is just as familiar as the memory of your brother, and you breathe fully for the first time in weeks. 

You lay on the surface of the water, staring at the cosmogone sky as a girl casts her shadow across your face. She plays her song, impressions of your past meetings with her washing over you in waves. Nowadays you don’t have much to talk about. She came to you often, at the beginning, when she first sensed your presence. You brought news of her father and she made you write promises into the cresting water all around you. You could see them still, if you waved your hand just so in the water. But you have said all that needs to be said, and so has she. The company is comforting either way.

Minutes, hours, perhaps days later, you feel a string pull at the centre of your chest. Your hand reaches under your own shirt, brushing against the set of stones encased in the necklace that sits snugly against your neck. They beat a warm rhythm into your skin, like they did only once before, here in the Is-Not, and the water stills around you. It creates a perfectly clear mirror to the sky above for just a moment, before the perfect immobility is broken by skipping words across the cosmogone hue. 

Your throat feels tighter, with each new sentence. Lenore stands with you in the whirlpool of memories that are whipped up by the words, the eye of a storm of your own making. 

Shared touches brush across your skin-

 A wave of worry flows up the length of your chest-

The lights of the bridge when he chased after you like no one ever had-

Closed curtains as he finds your arms after his hands had crafted a new order for the world-

His embrace, the first thing you felt after your body breathed anew-

The incredible privilege to see his mind at work-

I love you.

I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you.

“I think this is where we part ways, my dear,” you say an epoch later, when the storm has died down and the words have long been blown away by the wind. 

“Yes, I think so too,” she answers. Her music plays on but it is fainter now as she holds her suitcase and gazes out towards where it feels like land is. “A ship should come by, but I don’t think you’re going to wait.”

“Absolutely not. It’s about time that I stretch my legs, I think. A walk would be nice.”

The zee ripples as she laughs, looking up at your face as you stand just out of reach. 

“You’re going back then?”

“I am.”

“That’s good.” She is quiet for a long while, both of you lingering and putting off the inevitable. “Take care of dad for me. One last promise.”

You turn to face her, tracing the features you have come to know so well. She looks like him. You think that you might have enjoyed meeting her when she was more than a memory.

“Of course. My skills are at his disposal, he knows this,” you say and watch her tilt her head, dipping into images of the times you offered something much more meaningful than skills to her father. “Alright, alright. I promise.”

A gust of wind carries your words away but you know now that they will remain. Someone will remember, somehow. As you gaze upon her one last time, the echo of your steps already moving across the surface of the zee, homeward bound, you hum the last notes of her endless melody.

All is quiet, here at the end.

“Be well, Emon.”

“And you rest easy, Lenore.”

A sort of response, sort of follow-up to @zeebreezin's last piece of writing, aka Shaw's letters as he set off to finish his Ambition. it absolutely knocked me on my feet and I needed to try to match the energy. and I suppose this means that Emon is on their way out of Parabola now!

[nonsenseofyesteryear]

Here's what I think each of the Ushers did for their last birthday before they died:

Freddie: Morrella made him one of her cake sculptures. He invited Roderick to his birthday celebration and was thrilled that he showed up, not realizing he only came to see his granddaughter.

Tamerlane: Hired a girl to act out a birthday dinner with her husband. Watched someone else blow out the candles on her birthday cake.

Vic: Not sure why, but she seems like the type to go to the theater. I think she and Al saw a show together or something.

Camille: Required her assistants to do a minimum of three shots each with her. Then texted Leo a location and time and he showed up no question asked and got plastered with her.

Leo: Julius had this lovely romantic evening planned for him that blew off to go on a drug and alcohol binge.

Perry: Threw a Wild Sex Party. Had forgotten how to throw any other type of party.

Madeline and Roderick: Roderick straight up forgot. He and Madeline just enjoyed some good liquor together. Juno tried to plan a surprise party and it didn't quite work out.

Lenore: Party with her friends, I guess. I believe her canon age is 17, so the family probably had something big planned for her 18th birthday and high school graduation that they never got to do.

Think my guesses are incorrect? Feel free to yell at me about it in the notes or my askbox!

[ghostselkie]

So an idea for a nevermore au literally came to me in a dream

I had this weird dream where Lenore was the apprentice to a death god, but like it was angsty cause like she didn't really want to be. Look it was a dream and that's all I remember.

So here are nearly all the thoughts that came from that.

Warning: This gets heavy. Death is talked about extensively and suicide is mentioned. If you are not in a headspace to read about that, please come back another time.

Then I woke up and realized there was something to that idea. So in this au Death would sometimes yoink humans who they think would be good for the job, the reason being that it can be easier for dying and dead humans to interact with an entity that was once human. Death typically appears during mass casualty events, or when a human would need their presence, or when they want to make a human psychopomp. As for the humans Death makes psychopomps, they are typically people who delt with death regularly, and/or people that have the right personality. Lenore is the latter.

Now typically dead people get to choose weather they stay as a ghost, reincarnate immediately, or be a ghost for a little while and reincarnate a bit later. If Death wants you to be a psychopomp, there is no getting out of it.

So, basically the whole dying on their wedding day happens to Lenore and Annabel. Lenore becomes a psychopomp, and Annabel reincarnates. The au would be set in the modern day and psychopomp!Lenore and Annabel would meet. Now I think psychopomps can have a corporeal form, and while people can of course see them, not many people can register them. And if they do get noticed, they are quickly forgotten about. Now some people can notice them more easily, these tend to be old and/or terminally ill people, those who are close to death. So imagen Lenore's surprise when Annabel, some one who is young, not only notices, but starts talking to Lenore. Now normally, for a young person who doesn't give of terminally ill vibes, them talking to a psychopomp is a really bad sign. The reason Annabel actually registers Lenore's existence is because of soulmate shenanigans, and because Lenore deals with souls on a daily basis, she quickly figures this out.

I'm thinking Prospero and Eulalie could also be psychopomps. Prospero cause he was a doctor and saw a lot of death, he knows how to deal with it. And Eulalie because Eulalie.

Now the thing is, psychopomps aren't quite human any more. On top of being immortal, what happens when a human soul becomes a psychopomp is that death gives this person a portion of their power. Now, psychopomps don't govern death, they just guide people through it, but with the line of work (and a portion of deaths power) their view on life and death shifts. Death is the great equalizer, and as Death's guides, they have to be impartial, it doesn't matter where the person came from or what they did, they are dead now and have to be treated with compassion. So all psychopomps end up being very compassionate towards all humans.

They don't need to breath, drink, eat, or sleep either. In fact most of those are uncomfortable, or just inconvenient for them. With food and drink, they can chew and swallow, but nothing else will happen, and if they teleport, or go incorporeal, everything will just fall to the ground; it's gross. As for sleeping, well basically what happens when some one dies and a psychopomp is needed, they get this feeling that they need to be some where. If they take to long doing whatever, they teleport automatically, cause like trying to resist the call is so spiritually uncomfortable for them. So like imagen your taking a nice nap, then you get woken up cause you have to go to work, but you feel like you're dying backwards cause the nap was really good, but now you have to provide a dead person therapy while really groggy.

Also, the not knowing when and where you have to be until you're needed is the reason they don't often have sex with mortals. Like ghosts understand the job of the psychopomp, and don't take them having to leave personally. But like with mortals, a psychopomp can't explane to them why they need to leave, and said mortal would absolutely take it personally. Typically this isn't a problem, as psychopomps don't have much of sex drive to begin with (that comes with the whole being dead thing, also they can still be attracted to people, this isn't vtm), and if they did want to, it would just be with a ghost for the reason above. Occasionally though, soulmate shenanigans will happen, and the psychopomp's soulmate will be alive. The sexual tension between them will be palpable.

Now on to why there are multiple psychopomps. Well first of all, unlike death, psychopomps aren't omnipresent. And while death cares deeply for humans, they are also acutely aware that their presence isn't the beast for recently dead humans, due how fundamentally inhuman death is. So, death created psychopomps, entities that where once human that could more effectively guide people through death. Yeah, psychopomps are basically glorified therapists for dead people. Another reason is that certain psychopomps are better for dealing with certain dead people than others would be. For instance, Prospero tends to deal with people who were terminally ill, people who die in hospitals, and people who died because of medical malpractice. Eulalie tends to deal with dead kids, and people who burned to death. Lenore tends to deal with people who died in accidents, people who were murdered, and people who lost the battle with their mental health. Essentially, psychopomps help those who they would be good at dealing with based on the events of their life and how they died. Also language barriers still exist for dead people, psychopomps just cant magically communicate with everyone. World building notes:

A psychopomp's corporeal form only creates the illusion of life, and it's not quite exact, as something with a portion of death's power can never perfectly mimic life. Their body temperature is a bit colder than normal, though, buy itself, not low enough to raise any alarm bells. It tends to hover around 95.1-96.9° F (35-36° C). Their heart beat is also slower than average, not enough to be life threatening though. Their heart rate can speed up, to make the illusion more convincing, but it never gets above 100bpm . Also because they don't need to breath, they don't get winded. They just breath to keep up appearances.

Important to note that electronics can pick up psychopomps in their corporeal form, though the mimetic effect they have on humans does extend through the video. Though still they have to be wary of cameras.

When incorporeal, they can float around and faze through walls like ghosts can. They can also teleport in this form.

They also have the power to manifest peoples memories. It's mostly used as a way to give comfort people who have just died. So like for a smoker they could manifest cigarettes. For a kid, a security blanket. For an autistic person, a favorite sensory toy, or maybe a weighted blanket. Basically, they can manifest anything that could comfort a dead person as long as that person has a memory of it. (for Annabel it would be tea) Now, psychopomps don't really use this any thing other than comforting the dead, however when Annabel starts interacting with Lenore, she starts getting memories of her past life.

Psychopomps have sort of a 6th sense when it comes to death. Like they can sense how close some one is to dying. The older they get the more exact this becomes. Also they can just generally feel when things die.

Because of this the typical psychopomp things aren't all they do. Like if they see some one who they feel is close to death, they will try to help, in any way that they are aloud to, such as calling 911, or talking some on down, and if they can't do any thing, they'll just sit with that person so they don't have to die alone. The reason being, everyone will die eventually, why not give them a little extra time. This is why they have corporeal forms, to comfort the dying.

Also almost no psychopomp has a phone, car, house, money, or really anything you need to live as a human, but like its not like they need it. Plus they can't get a job because they don't legally exist. Usually, the most they'll have is an email.

psychopomps can hop in and out of the afterlife at will, they can also teach ghosts how to.

oh yeah, the afterlife is really just a place for ghosts to hang out and vibe when they are not doing ghost shit, and it's also like a "break" room for psychopomps. A break from having to deal mortals, not a break from their job. They are on call 24/7/365. Death doesn't sleep and neither do they.

The afterlife is a combination of human memories of the living world and humanities collective unconsciousness of what the afterlife is like.

Ghost's can't take a corporeal form.

Also, since both Theo and Lenore are dead in this au they can interact with each other. So, like Theo (and Lenore's ghost friends) will sometimes fallow her around while she's in her corporeal form and do silly ghost shit that only she (and other psychopomps) can see. Though some times Lenore will want to join in on the conversation, so she has to find a privet place to go incorporeal. Yes, the memetic effect psychopomps have on humans helps them not get noticed, if something happens, or they do something that would draw attention to them, like Lenore talking to talking to people that "aren't there," or straight up disappearing, humans will notice.

I'm calling this my psychopomp!Lenore au.

[love-dove-noora]

Hi! I was wondering if you could write something self indulgent? I wrecked my knee in a climbing accident a few years ago, tore my ACL, left MCL, and meniscus. I was bed bound for three months after a bad surgery and had to relearn how to walk. I’m good now minus the aches when the weather changes, and sometimes I still need a metal leg brace to walk comfortably but I try to take everything in stride!

I was wondering if you could write a piece for Carmilla? Maybe where her s/o has been bed bound due to the injury but relearning how to walk with the council in secret to surprise Carmilla? Thank you so much!

Im really bad at anatomy and especially in English so I’m not going so specific but i get the general idea!

Surprise

The fact you were bed ridden didn’t bother her that much in a sick and twisted way she liked it, it took work off her as she didn’t have to protect you sense you weren’t always on the move. But it was the fact you were in pain that hurt her and much to her dismay you rejected her offer of taking it away by turning you. Lenore has been your main help, she was the vampire sister you were closest to, Carmilla not included of course. In one of your many tea sessions together you had suggested learning to walk again and it was actually Lenores idea to make it a surprise. The timing was perfect Carmilla was going to go to Draculas castle to overthrow the king himself. Carmilla is a busy vampire and an idealist to the point of madness, that meant she was busy a lot of the time. Then the day came, she came to kiss you goodbye “darling be here waiting for me, because when i come back we will be the ones to rule” and then she disappeared into the dark woods in her journey to the unknown. Lenore was too excited to keep it in and on the first night ahead told the rest of the council about the surprise. Morana was enthused and Striga much like always unfazed, Striga was atleast in the beginning against you and Carmilla because well you were human and didn’t even have plans on turning. Carmilla wrote you letters and you struggled with not telling her the process and when you were finally walking the excitement you felt; it felt wrong not to share it with your lover. But when she finally arrived home after three tedious months and you were able to see her walk into the castle after her long journey and the face she made when she saw you and picked you up in her arms spinning you, you were barely able to get a word out with how tight she was squeezing you, when you finally got a small squeak out of “surprise!” She put you down but not before kissing you deeply “dear this is the best surprise ever”

[dr1f7w00d]

the part that gets me about durgetash is the came back wrong/lost lenore combo

like. the dark urge and gortash, whether you see it as platonic or romantic, were undeniably important to each other (see prayer for forgiveness and scrapbook of letters). gortash doesn't care if you say your urges and connection to bhaal are gone. he still offers you a place beside him, as equals.

and then there's all the implications! you, the literal embodiment of murder, the vessel of bhaal, the bloody knife that he created to end all living things, wrote a whole ass prayer apologizing for not killing this one guy. saying sorry father i promise i'll kill him someday. but he's useful now. please don't be mad at me :(

the dark urge didn't want to kill gortash. that's what the prayer for forgiveness is about! that's why the dark urge is begging to be forgiven. because, for this one man, durge stayed their hand. if i recall correctly, there's a line from gortash about you always having control over your urges? which we know isn't really true. maybe it was true before the dark urge got their brain scrambled? or maybe the dark urge just never let gortash see how bad it was.

orin will call you a liar if you say you'd kill the one you love most if you had to. maybe because she knows you couldn't do it before?

and gortash, the chosen of bane, is supposed to rule over and subjugate everything. he doesn't have equals. but he saw one in the dark urge.

which brings me to the part that makes me so crazy. because you're his lost lenore! you're haunting his narrative! he thinks you're dead, and every day, he has to work with your killer. he has to see orin with your netherstone, that you and he stole from the hells together. he has to follow through on the plans you crafted together, without you. you, his closest confidant, probably the closest thing he has to a real friend, just disappeared off the face of toril. orin says she humiliated you. he has no reason to think you're still alive.

and then you crawl back to baldur's gate, an entire life forgotten, and, if you're playing resist!durge, trying to be a hero. depending on your choices, you can completely go against gortash. you can destroy everything he's created, everything he's worked for. (the iron throne, the foundry, etc.) you are not the person he once knew, you have no memory of your friendship, and you are going to kill him.

or! or! you side with him, and confront the nether brain together, and he fucking dies anyway! you can't save him. you definitely can't redeem him. the consequences of both of your actions will catch up with you eventually. and he always dies. by your own hand or by your actions.

either way, you're not the dark urge that gortash knew. you're not even an echo of your former self. you woke up on that beach a blank slate and created a new life for yourself out of nothing. (assuming you're a mostly good resist! durge) you found new people that you trust, that you care about, when before all you might've had was gortash. and how that must eat him up inside, seeing you again, seeing you surrounded by people that you care about. knowing that he's not part of your new life, and, if you fight him, never will be.

you're his lost lenore, and you came back wrong.

[historicity-was-already-taken]

i have this excerpt from Notes from the Warsaw Ghetto: The Journal of Emmanuel Ringelblum printed and framed

Like, I paid an etsy seller to print it for me on the nicest cardstock with the best ink, and then I waited in line and paid a stupid amount of money to have it framed at the Michael's custom framing counter. And I have zero regrets. I've probably posted this excerpt here before but I don't care. It is everything.

The heroic girls, Chajke and Frumke—they are a theme that calls for the pen of a great writer. Boldly they travel back and forth through the cities and towns of Poland. They carry “Aryan” papers identifying them as Poles or Ukrain­ians. One of them even wears a cross, which she never parts with except when in the Ghetto. They are in mortal danger every day. They rely entirely on their “Aryan” faces and on the peasant kerchiefs that cover their heads. Without a mur­mur, without a second’s hesitation, they accept and carry out the most dangerous missions. Is someone needed to travel to Vilna, Bialystok, Lemberg, Kowel, Lublin, Czestochowa, or Radom to smuggle in contraband such as illegal publica­tions, goods, money? The girls volunteer as though it were the most natural thing in the world. Are there comrades who have to be rescued from Vilna, Lublin, or some other city?— They undertake the mission. Nothing stands in their way, nothing deters them. Is it necessary to become friendly with engineers of German trains, so as to be able to travel beyond the frontiers of the Government General of Poland, where people can move about with special papers? They are the ones to do it, simply, without fuss, as though it was their pro­fession. They have traveled from city to city, to places no delegate or Jewish institution had ever reached, such as Wolhynia, Lithuania. They were the first to bring back the tidings about the tragedy of Vilna. They were the first to offer words of encouragement and moral support to the sur­viving remnant of that city. How many times have they looked death in the eyes? How many times have they been arrested and searched? Fortune has smiled on them. They are, in the classic idiom, “emissaries of the community to whom no harm can come.” With what simplicity and modesty have they reported what they accomplished on their journeys, on the trains bearing Polish Christians who have been pressed to work in Germany! The story of the Jewish woman will be a glorious page in the history of Jewry during the present war. And the Chajkes and Frumkes will be the leading figures in this story. For these girls are indefatigable. Just back from Czestochowa, where they imported contraband, in a few hours they’ll be on the move again. And they’re off without a moment’s hesitation, without a minute of rest.

He only namechecks Chaike Grossman and Frumka Plotnicka here, but I can tell you for a fact that he's also referring to Tossia Atlman, Tema Schneiderman, and Lonka Kozybrodska. At least.

So far the count of Jewish women (that I'm aware of) who have responded to "They are a theme that calls for the pen of a great writer" with a book (or long-planned book) are three: me, Dr. Lenore Weitzman (who won't return any of my emails) and Judith Batalion (who did return my emails, had lunch with me, and told me that Dr. Weitzman wouldn't respond to her emails either). I hope more Jewish women--in and out of the academe--continue to take up this call, and I hope they keep getting published and aren't rejected because it's "too similar" to mine and Batalion's. No like seriously like two months after I signed with my agent, and one month after I got my book deal, I received a rejection from a lit agent saying that my book was "too similar" to Batalion's. Ok first of all it's not. I read Batalion's the day it came out, and they're very different books with very different focuses, goals, and approaches; the only thing they have in common is that they're both about this underserved, underappreciated group of amazing women. There SHOULD be multiple books about each and every one of them. There SHOULD be multiple books about one day Tossia spent in Vilna. Every white man who looked sideways at WW2 and the American Civil War have like, 87 terrible books dedicated to them, and I DEMAND at least 3 for each of these women. And 17 for Queen Zivia. (Who does have a biography, written by Bella Gutterman). Plus a biopic. So this post went in a direction.

tl;dr:

[coconut530]

FLY ON THE WALL 🪰

[lyranix1201]

I have so many plot ideas for a nevermore fanfic, but there is a small problem.......

I need to write it😭.

(it feels like torture not being able to write something, that you have been planning to write for so long).

It's a pity because I have so many ideas, like:

2 pirate AU (one of them, is were lenore is the captain of the well know myth called the flying Dutch man. and the other one, is lenore being a pirate and meeting a fortune-teller/princes Annabelle lee)

Mafia/cleaning service AU [ let me explain myself 💀. basically lenore and some of her friends (Berenice, Duke and pluto) work for this organization called Nevermore cleaning service, whose main objective is to Clean up crime scene's for the mafia.] (I have been writing the first chapter since April, and I'm still not finished😭 I hate being a perfectionist sometimes.)

3 what if scenarios. [ what if lenore didn't run after Annabelle after their argument (in this fanfic, I am pretty much just torturing Annabelle and lenore, I'm not even kidding 🙂🙈. I am going to put lenore and Annabelle lee through hell and back ). what if the misfits and the clusterfuck (we need better names for them) team up and escape nevermore, and I mean they team up immediately after they meet. What if Annabelle and lenore actually made a good plan together and didn't die.]

Jazz club AU ( everyone is dead and works in a jazz club except Annabelle lee)

Train conductor AU (technically you could call it that. Everyone is basically trapped on a moving train.)

"Mr. And Mrs Smith" AU ( inspired by the serie that came out in 2024 on Prime, not the movie. I have currently only seen 2 episodes, in summer break I will finish watching it.)

One were everyone works in a hotel and everyone is also death.

One were I got inspired by the series called "Umbrella Academy" that is on Netflix ( I remember watching this series like 2 years ago, and let me tell you something. well watching this series it felt like I was having a fever dream😵‍💫, and it didn't help that I was having an all nighter.)

Cult AU

Time traveler/Imortal AU

Superhero AU

Vampire AU ( you can't go wrong with Vampires)

A fanfic inspired by a books that I found in my portuguesa school library. The book is caled the "magician nephew"( yes it is in English, somehow I found a few English books there. I haven't finished reading the book, exam season is killing me.)

One were we follow theo in nevermore

one-shots( were lenore and Annabelle lee are just spending time together)

One were the cast are going on a camping trip.

And last but not least, 2 crakefics. one is inspired by a childhood series that I used to watch when I was a kid, that is on Disney channel called lab rats. And the other one, that I somehow promise myself to make, that is a lenore as snow White fanfic.

There are many reasons why I haven't finished one Goddamn chapter of any of the fanfic.

Knowing multiple languages (dutch, english, Portuguese and French) is a blessing and a curse, My dyslexic ass can't write for shit. I have so many difficulties in writing in all languages and i can't even write a simple frase in English, without going through the seven stages of grief.

(funfact: I fucked up, I couldn't even write the word dyslexic correctly, I wrote it like: deslesic at first 😭☠️) how the fuck can i be dyslexic in 4 goddamn languages. SOMEONE PLEASE HELP ME.... FREE ME FROM THIS TORMENT.

[cillianmesoftlyyy]

At the Cabaret Pt. 2 | Tommy Shelby x fem!character

Summary: After agreeing to help Tommy, Lenore realizes exactly what working with the Peaky Blinders entails. Espionage doesn't come as easily as she'd hoped. Tonight is the night that she tries to get at Kimber, just as Tommy asked.

Warnings: Heavy misogyny, objectification, sexual harassment, mentions of sexual assault, and emetophobia. All around pretty heavy stuff and it'll only get worse so please read with caution!! Written from a historical perspective, music included in the storyline are in a 20s style. Please don't interact if any of these topics are uncomfortable or upsetting. Take care of yourself!

word count: 3908k

I've Got What It Takes- Virginia Liston 🎶

Maschin- Bilderbuch 🎵

Chelsea Dagger- The Fratellis 🎶

Not proofed- my b folks!

She shared a flat with some of the dancers around the corner from the Cabaret. That’s where she woke up the next morning and where she got ready for rehearsal. She slept in till 2 and took her time gathering the costume materials she’d been working on that week. She and Lucy walked over together, barely speaking, shivering from the cold. For Lucy’s own safety, Lenore hadn’t told her what had transpired in the spare dressing room. She let her assume that all Tommy wanted was to seduce her and that maybe he’d been successful. 

They conducted rehearsals with a pianist but the full band came in later in the evening, closer to show time. Her number for that evening was one of the more promiscuous routines she’d prepared. 

She changed into a nude colored bodysuit made of stocking material. The hem around each leg was lined with faux pearls, framing her pelvis. There were clusters of pearls on each breast and on her cunt. A train of white ostrich feathers was pinned at her tailbone and brushed the floor below. She had a pearl choker and long white satin gloves. The zipper on the back of the costume was hidden by a trail of pearls down to her coccyx. Lucy added sticky pearls to her eyes and temples, someone brushed light blue shadow like a mask across her eyes and the ridge of her nose. She got her shoes buckled and a large white cape before going up to the stage. She went on alone, her hands holding either end of the cape together. 

“Good evening, boys!” She smiled flirtatiously. The men called back, the air warm from their boasting and drinking. 

“Gee, is it cold in here to you?” She asked innocently, shivering. The men shouted different responses and she shifted her weight onto her left hip. 

“Hmmm, we better warm the room up before I take this off, boys.” She suggested and the men whooped. “Now, how can we do that?” She asked and waited for the men to whistle and shout. 

“I’ll warm you up, love!” One man hollered. 

“Oh don’t I know it but, that’d ruin all the fun, wouldn’t it?” She purred into the microphone. “I’ll tell you what, I’ll sing a little song and you’ll all clap because you’re such good boys and you know that I like my praise, right?” She teased and the men applauded excitedly, “And it’ll get me so hot and bothered that I’ll have to take this thing off, won’t I?” She smiled and stuck her bare leg through the slit in the coat, the crowd roared. “All right then, band, you heard the men.” She called over her shoulder to the band. The band started playing “I’ve Got What It Takes” and she turned her back on the audience, strutting slowly upstage towards the curtain. She shrugged off the cape, showing off her bare shoulders with the small trail of pearls starting at the nape of her neck. She looked over her shoulder and wiggled the cape back on and hugged it around her waist. When she turned, she kicked her leg out and hiked up the cape to show her bare thigh. She returned to the microphone and shrugged the cape off of one shoulder and started to sing the racy song with a pouty rasp. 

I’ve got what it takes 

but it breaks my heart to give it away

I’ve been saving it all for a mighty long time 

To give it away will be more than a crime

She searched intentionally for Billy Kimber in the audience, checking all of the usual tables. The house was dark for the show but she managed to spot him by the wall of oxidized mirrors on her right. He was seated close to the stage in a large booth, full of men she assumed were his partners. Kimber had sent her flowers before but he’d never sought her out, he liked to get what he wanted without a fight and she always put up a fight. She knew having Tommy there would put him on edge, encourage him to show Tommy who’s turf the Cabaret club was and which girls he owned by extension. She would be grouped into that, however, she’d never had a real conversation with him. She looked for Tommy in the audience but couldn’t find him in the mess of drunkards and fat cats littered around the small tables in the front section of seats.  

Your eyes may roam, your teeth my grit 

But none of my small change shall you get

I’ll let you look at my bank but

I’ll never let you feel my purse

She shrugged off the cape of the other shoulder and held the cap against her breasts. The audience could see some of her legs through the wider slit in the cape and she teased the men by moving them to the beat. She dared herself to look at Kimber and invited his gaze back as she sang, a small promising smile tugging at her lips. He smiled slyly, his lips curled like a villain. He glued his eyes to her as she slowly shifted the cape around her body. The trumpet solo started and she tugged at the cape’s edges, dragging them around her breasts and waist. She moaned dramatically as she removed her arm from one sleeve and let the cape on one side drop, revealing a costume that to any man in the audience, looked as though she was actually naked below the sticky pearls (though she arguably was because the stocking material was so thin). 

Holding the fabric against her crotch, she cupped her breast with her other hand. The crowd hollered with approval, demanding more, so with one more twirl, she tossed off her cape to a stagehand and hurried back to the microphone with fast feet, repeating a section of the song.

I’ve got what it takes 

but it breaks my heart to give it away

I’ve been saving it all for a mighty long time 

To give it away will be more than a crime

Daddy, take your hands away

I believe in safety first

The crowd laughed as she pulled a condom from her shoe, trailing a finger from her ankle bone to her cunt and then up to the air. She threw the condom into the audience and returned her suggestive eyes to Kimber. 

Now you want my money 

And my plan to save it all for a real good man

It breaks my heart to give it all away!

She finished and bowed to the clapping audience. 

“Thank you, boys! I think that really worked, I don’t know how I'm gonna put clothes on now, after this!” She joked and blew kisses, blowing one pointedly at Kimber who raised his hand to catch it. When he lowered his hand, he grabbed at his bulging crotch and she hid the way it made her stomach turn, trying to smile. She stalked off the stage and caught a bucket just in time to vomit. She wiped her mouth and gagged again. 

“Gee, you pregnant, Nore?” Clara whispered when she came up for air, she was waiting to go on. 

“No, just nerves.” She lied with a groan and apologized to the stagehand who had to clean the bucket after. She went back down into the dressing room. When she sat down at the dressing table, she caught herself crying in the mirror and wiped away her tears. Lucy came in a few minutes later with a glass of water.

“Nore, you’re so pale. Drink some water now.” 

She took the water from Lucy and took a few sips but her stomach turned again. “Could you get me some whiskey, Luce?” She cradled her head. Lucy hurried into the spare dressing room and fetched her a small glass of whisky.

“Is everything ok, Nore?” She asked softly, eyeing the younger dancers watching them. 

“Yeah, Luc. It's nothing, I promise. You know how I hate to go out in things like this. I always think I'll be fine and then I see how they react and it scares me.” She tried to cover it up with the story and downed the whisky in one fast motion. 

“What are you gonna do now since you don’t have a second performance tonight?” Lucy asked. 

“I want to get out of this.” She reached behind her head and unzipped the bodysuit. 

Johnny came rushing in and the changing girls shrieked in surprise. 

“Jesus, Johnny. Don’t you fucking knock?” Lenore held the fabric to her chest. 

“Sorry, sorry. This couldn’t wait. Billy Kimber invited you to join him in his booth for the rest of the evening. What should I say?” He cleared his throat anxiously. 

Her eyes widened and she stuttered, “Sure, let me change. I’ll be out there soon.” She agreed quickly and Lucy exchanged looks with Johnny. Johnny nodded and hurried back out. 

“Sudden change of heart about the cats you dislike so much, Nore?” Luce teased with raised eyebrows. 

“Something like that.” She grimaced and let her bodysuit fall to the floor at her feet. 

“What do you want to wear?” Lucy asked as she went through Lenore’s small collection of normal clothes saved for moments like this. 

“The brown silk, I think.” She combed her hair as Lucy selected the dress from the rack. The dress looked like a camisole with a paneled skirt. She slipped the dress over her head and wiped away the blue makeup from her face. Lucy helped her remove the sticky pearls and put them carefully back into the makeup box. She chose a darker lipstick and straightened her white gloves. “You should wear the mink,” Lucy handed her the white mink coat she shared with Clara when they met wealthy clients. 

“Good idea.” She nodded and put it on quickly. She headed for the door when Lucy yelled out suddenly.

“Nore, you forgot stockings!” She pointed to her bare legs and Lenore chuckled. 

“Even better.” She let the door close behind her and exited out the side door into the audience. Johnny was introducing a short dance number while Clara changed for her second act. She approached Kimber’s table with a calm smile. He stood and stretched out his arms. 

“Your best performance by far!” He praised in his slippery tone of voice that always sounded like he was whining. 

“Aw thanks, Mr. Kimber.” She bit her lip and nodded at the table, “do you have room for one more gal?” 

“We sure do, doll.” He shooed the people over to make room for her. She had no choice but to take the seat between Kimber and another man, the accountant or lawyer from the academic look of him. She straightened her dress when she took her seat and purposefully brushed her hand against the boy’s thigh, testing to see if he would be much of a threat while she was sweet talking Kimber. 

“Sorry!” She whispered sweetly and he blushed harshly. 

“Fine, ‘s fine.” He scrambled to move a little more. 

Kimber slid into the booth beside her and whistled for a passing waiter. 

“What does the lady want to drink?” 

“Whiskey, please.” She winked at the waiter and put a hand on Kimber’s shoulder, resting her chin on top of her hand. “Thanks, daddy.” 

“Anything for Lady Lenore.” He laughed and the rest of the table laughed with him, she smiled. “Who’s on next?” He gestured to the stage full of dancers performing choreography. 

“Clara Whitney.”

“Oh, isn’t that the girl with the fat ass?” Kimber shouted across the table at his buddy and they laughed heartily. The waiter returned with her drink and she took a long sip, hoping to escape the current direction of conversation. 

“Aw, don’t be jealous now! I’m sorry, doll.” He placed a hand on her knee and dragged it upwards to her thigh. “Say, were you really naked beneath those pearls?” He whispered in her ear, spit flying against her neck. 

“I never reveal my tricks, Mr. Kimber, and I always keep my secrets.” She smiled seductively, “do you have any secrets to share? We could swap.” She laughed lightly and rubbed his thigh with her gloved hand. 

“Well, doll, what would you say to a new club owner?” He tipped her chin up and smiled, showing his yellowed teeth and lingering sour breath. 

“How exciting Mr. Kimber!” She squealed, “will that make you my new daddy?”

“Owner, sponsor, and boss, the big man himself.” 

“That’s such a good secret… I don’t know how I could possibly come up with something better!” she whispered and wiggled on the seat. 

“Oh, I think you know what I want to hear, doll.” He pushed his hand up farther to the silk lining of her underwear. “Exactly how naked were you beneath those pearls?”

“Abso-tutely bare, daddy.” She gasped and he laughed. 

“That’s music to my ears.”

She downed the rest of her glass and laughed loudly. “Is that the only reason why you’re buying the club, Mr. Kimber, so that you can see me naked?” She teased, swatting at his chest. 

“That’s the best reason, doll. And besides, I wouldn’t want your talent wasted on Small Heath criminals.” 

“We get only the best criminals, huh?” She fixed his pocket square and winked. He smiled and nodded. 

“Smart girl. Now sit back and be pretty, let’s watch the next girl.” He signaled for more whiskey from the waiter and draped an arm around her shoulders, his hand indiscreetly squeezing her tit. “Is this fake fur, doll?” He laughed harshly and she grimaced. 

“Is it that obvious?”

“I’ve never seen an animal that looks quite like this, doll.” He laughed again and patted her cheek, “once I own the whole of this block, I’ll buy you a fur coat. A real one too.” He whispered against her ear and she tried to smile gladly. 

“You’ll spoil me, Mr. Kimber!” 

She managed to excuse herself after Clara’s number pleading exhaustion. 

When she passed Kimber, he grabbed her wrist and spoke darkly into her ear. 

“You’re a fucking tease. I’ll expect something more next time, yeh?” He spanked her hard and she stumbled forward. She said nothing and smiled. Escaping through the stage door, she almost ran to the dressing room. When she closed her eyes, she saw his waxy face and curling tongue that threatened to violate her. Tommy had backed her into a corner with this favor. Kimber would expect more from her if she kept asking questions and flirting for answers. Tommy had promised that he’d look out for her but she hadn’t even seen him in the audience that night. 

Small Heath criminals, that’s what Kimber had called them and she gripped the edge of her seat with all her strength. He used Small Heath as an insult, oblivious that she was herself from the working-class neighborhood. God, she hated Tommy for this but she hated Kimber even more. 

…

Tommy was waiting for her at her flat, smoking a cigarette against the brick siding, his hat pulled down to hide his eyes. She shooed Lucy inside the flat. He waited till she had closed the door behind her before speaking. 

“How’d it go tonight?” He looked around the street to make sure no one was watching. 

“Fine. You know, I really don’t like this Tommy. The things I had to do to get him comfortable enough to tell me things… I feel like I’m trapped. He’s going to make me do things, I’m sure of it.”

“It won’t happen. I’m giving you my word, it won’t.” He shook his cigarette gently with each word. She looked into his eyes and blinked away stinging tears. 

Taking a breath she started, “he has plans to buy the cabaret and eventually, the whole street. I don’t know how he plans to do that while you already own or protect most of the businesses on the street. It sounded like he was planning on taking them if he couldn’t buy them from you.” She said slowly. “He didn’t say anything else but it’s clear he has something planned.” She pulled the mink closer around her chest and shivered. 

Tommy nodded and looked up at the neighboring apartments. 

“Good.” He said finally and she sighed softly, releasing clouds of air into the dark around them. 

“What are you going to do, Tommy?” She asked.

“I'll put two blinders by your father’s flat starting tonight.” He put out his cigarette beneath his shiny black boots and looked at his pocket watch. The church bells would soon ring three times. Day laborers would wake in two hours at 5am.

“That isn’t what I meant.” She shook her head and he studied the glass casing on the streetlight beside us, his face lit up in the warm yellow light. 

“I know.” He brushed her off and she kept herself from laughing, finding the whole interaction too overwhelming to treat seriously. 

“I thought you had asked to see me last night because you wanted to fuck me. Use me like one of your whores but you didn’t. You’ve changed like we all have but despite what you believe, Tommy, my brother’s best friend, is still in there.” 

He swallowed and put his watch back into his pocket. His eyes bore into her, picking apart her soul like a daisy. 

“You think so?” He asked with a hint of skepticism, his brow raised. 

“Yeah,” she nodded and tried to calm her anxious heart, “yeah I do.” 

He smiled painfully and laughed, “You and Polly seem to think I’m a better man than I am.” 

“We’ll have to see,” her head felt fuzzy from the whiskey, “for all I know, you're a horrible man.” 

“That sounds more realistic, Lenore.” He answered honestly and stared her down, a warning: you guessed correctly, Nore.

“Maybe but you’re not like Kimber, Tommy. I work at a Cabaret, I get to know men fairly well.”

“But you don’t know me anymore, Lenore. We aren’t kids anymore.” 

“And yet, you look just like you did when you were eighteen.” She smiled, “and unfortunately, so do I.” 

“Nah,” he smiled softly, “you look older, wiser.” He crossed his arms over his chest. 

“That’s from the cold-cream shortage,” she laughed and pointed to her skin. 

“I’ll have to get on that myself, eh?” He joked softly and she shook her head gently. 

“No, you don’t need it. You’re beautiful, Tommy.” She took a shaky step closer and put a finger against his smooth cheek, tracing the almond colored freckles. 

“Don’t say that, Lenore.” He looked away and cleared his throat. 

“Why?” She asked softly, wanting his eyes to look into her’s.

“We can’t.” He answered evenly and took her hand from his face. He kissed her knuckles and dropped her hand, “I can’t.” He pushed himself off of the wall and walked away, his large black coat wavering with each step. She stood frozen on the pavement and watched him leave, her heart throbbing like a sore thumb. She scoffed and went up into her flat, their backs to each other as they went their separate ways. Tommy looked back to check that she went inside and continued on, lighting up another cigarette.

She had three performances on Friday night, the third was shared with Clara when they did a duet. She didn’t see Billy Kimber when she went out for her first two acts and she managed to sigh a breath of relief while she was on stage. For the duet act, they each wore a tailored tuxedo with their hair slicked back beneath top hats. They were introduced as “the two dapper gentlemen from out of town,” which sparked knowing laughter from the audience. When they took the stage, they entered on opposite sides and met at their shared microphone. The crowd ogled, struggling to determine if the performers were actually men or cabaret dancers. She pitied them in their drunk state. 

“Good evening, gents! I’ve just been walking by and I stumbled upon this club of yours.” She lowered her voice to sound more masculine.  

“My brother’s been stuck alone in the country for too long, he can’t tell a whore from a bedpost. So, I thought I’d take him by your Cabaret!” Clara matched Lenore’s mannerisms, lowering her voice and slapping her on the back. 

“Oh, ladies!” Clara called dramatically and the dancers hurried onstage with their bras and painties, stockings rolled down below their knees. The band began playing “Chelsea Dagger” and one dancer draped her boa over Lenore’s shoulders, pulling her in for a kiss on the mouth. The crowd exploded with excitement. The dancer went back to her line and they started dancing, kicking their legs in the air and jumping around. 

Well, you must be a girl with shoes like that 

She said you know me well

I seen you and little Steven and Joanna 

Round the back of my hotel

Oh yeah

The dancers shoved her hands into the insides of Lenore and Clara’s suit jackets, feeling them up in front of the audience. Lenore and Clara alternated segments, interacting with the dancers when it wasn’t their time to sing. Lenore took the mic.

I was good she was hot

Stealin’ everything she got 

I was bold she was over the worst of it 

Gave me gear, 

 Lucy stepped between her and the microphone and bent down, her ass pressed into Lenore’s crotch. 

thank you dear!

She squealed in character and the audience laughed. Clara switched in.

Bring yer sister over here 

Let her dance with me just for the hell of it 

During the dance number that Clara and Lenore shared, the dancer ran out into the audience, picking men to dance with. Lenore and Clara did a short routine of American folk dancing before they switched into tap, completing a few cincinnati steps before the next verse. More dancers came onstage, grabbing all over their bodies. One girl removed Lenore’s hat and put it on herself before trailing her hands down the front of Lenore’s body. They sang the next segment together:

Chelsea Chelsea I believe that 

When you’re dancing 

Slowly sucking your sleeve

The boys get lonely after you leave 

It’s one for the Dagger and

Another for the one you believe

The audience exploded into a mess of feathers, dancing, and laughter. The band played on while the remaining dancers on stage stripped Lenore and Clara of their outer clothing. Lenore, laughing, looked up and caught sight of Tommy Shelby standing by the doorway into the main floor. She smiled, fully aware that he could probably see her tits through the wife-beater she was wearing. She winked and he chuckled, shaking his head and dragging on his cigarette. His hat was shoved into his vest pocket and his hair was tussled. When the band played the final note, she and Clara bowed. Fragments of light and feathers drifted through the air around them. When she looked back, Tommy was gone, his place by the door frame empty and cold without him. When she walked into her dressing room she found a bouquet of flowers with an attached note: Come with me to the races tomorrow- T.S. She dropped the note against the vase and shook her head in disbelief. 

_________

End of part 2 :)

[lesbiantoaster]

Hear me out! As much as I'd love to see Ada getting some character development, I also would want to see her learning absolutely nothing and just switching from Prospero to Lenore, but being timider this time around...

Her slowly realizing that she might fancy Lenore and not being so sure whom to confide with her feelings... so she chose her roommate :D

Firstly, she wants to find out if Annabel is homophobic, so she starts with questions like "Do you think it's weird if a gal fancies other gals?" and other questions/comments of this sort. Annabel's intrigued, to say the least... Because just recently Ada's been head over heels for Prospero... what happened? But regardless, she decides to humour Ada and play along.

Ada's ecstatic! She gushes about her crush (she's smart enough not to mention to the only person she can be that vulnerable with that her crush is the other's mortal enemy) and poor Annabel has to suffer through it every time they're together in their room... Ada saying things: "The other time she was braiding my hair, I swear, I felt like my whole body was on fire! Do you think it's the sparks everyone's talking about? Do you think she might feel it too?... She didn't say much... maybe she's shy! What do you think, Annabel?", "And her eyes! I could drown in them...", "I'd love to hold her hands again... They're so gentle and soft...", "Oh! and her arms are SO strong... she makes me feel so safe" etc. **author's note: let's have a moment of silence for our poor Annabel here** but because it's her first (conscious) crush on a girl, she's intimidated and doesn't pursue it like with Prospero.

What she doesn't realize is that Annabel had noticed Ada's change in demeanour whenever Lenore and Morella enter the room or how her eyes keep darting towards the girls and how her steps get slower when they pass by the other two's room. It can't possibly be... thinks Annabel Ada's in love with Morella??? I mean it's not completely out of nowhere... she looks at daydreaming Ada hmm... but it CAN be beneficial for our plan... (and hilarious to watch)

Later that day, when Ada and Annabel are back in their room after the lights are out Annabel turns in her bed to look at the ceiling and says "I think you should make a move... on your mysterious girl..." There was a moment of silence, then Ada's said in a barely audible voice "You think so? But what if she rejects me? What if the whole school will know?... So much will change no matter what... and it won't be a change for good..." silence filled the room again "Annabel... I'm really scared... I don't think I can..." They lay in their beds in a dark room. Annabel thinks of her own experience with her sexuality, then says "I still think you should do that... And I'll be there so you won't be alone... Maybe you can start small? You can sit by her side at the lecture tomorrow... You can wear something nice, too. Then she will have something to compliment you and you can start talking more and getting to know each other..." Saying this memories start to flash in Annabel's mind. She recalled all the times she couldn't decide what to wear for her meeting with Lenore, how she used to wake up hoping Lenore will compliment her new hat or hair ornament. A small smile tugged on Annabel's lips and her chest filled with warmth at the thought of her beloved Pet. Then she hears "I... I will think about it. Thank you, Annabel. Goodnight."

The next day when they came back to their room to gather things for classes Ada approached Annabel and said "About what you said yesterday... I think I want to try..." to which Annabel responds with "That's wonderful, darling! Do you maybe want to wear something nice for your lady? I can help you choose." At those words, Ada's face beamed like thousand stars as she said "Really? You're the best Annabel, thank you!!!" and dived into the suitcase with all of her belongings trying to find something worth Lenore's attention. Upon finding an expensive looking necklace she turns towards waiting Annabel and blurted "Do you think Lenore will like this??"

Meantime in front of the classroom Lenore's talking with the misfits. Suddenly there's mysterious loud sound that got ever student startled.

Lenore *looking around, trying to locate the source of this sound*: What the- Did you guys hear that?!

Berenice: Yeah- What was that?

Eulalie: Weird... That sounded a lot like a scratched record...

** author's note: Alexa play "Dumb ways to die" **

[wxnheart]

𝐅*𝐜𝐤 𝐀𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐎𝐮𝐭, 𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐲 𝐄𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

note: *Horny Heresy inTENSIFIES*; take this seriously. or don't. your choice. just keep fucking around and finding out.

Lion El'Jonson - You always wondered what a visibly frustrated Lion would look like but you didn't have the self-awareness to fucking STOP until it was too late. And so here you are, hands bound in shackles, suspended bare before the First himself. For a while, he said and did nothing save for his eyes roving along the contours of your body. That was soon replaced with a curious hand and the moan you let out was heretical, indeed.

Fulgrim - It's a... miracle you can walk. And talk. And still breathe. Mmm... you weren't expecting that out of Fulgrim were you? You look like you've fought a battle and lost while nary a hair is out of place on his head.

Perturabo - Turns out he's not an ass with a martyr complex where it counts. He's still an ass, though... who ironically has a nice ass. Who knew that armor hid so much. Bastard. He may or may not like when you smack it.

Jaghatai Khan - Simply put, you found out on his bike. You were stumbling for a bit afterward.

Leman Russ - Well you didn't have to fuck around for long. In fact, Leman was practically waiting for the moment to pounce, and pounce he did. There's a reason why he's The Wolf King because Leman had you howling all throughout the night, dear.

Rogal Dorn - Perhaps the most surprising encounter of the Primarch. Dorn has some freak bitch tendencies, let me tell ya. All the signs were there what with his fondness for the Pain Glove.

Konrad Curze - *stares in judgemental Sevatar.*

Sanguinius - Watching him succumb to his lust was so beautiful. He had you right where he wanted you, enveloped tightly in his arms, embraced fully with his wings. The Brightest One's eyes are so clouded with a feral desire. He leaned down, pressed a tentative kiss on the pulse of your neck, and you were putty in his arms.

Ferrus Manus - Yeah, Ferrus is many things but when it comes to the matter of the flesh, um... yeah, you had to make the first move. He's got the spirit, though.

Angron - Whew. You fucked around and found out, alright. You riled Angron up so much, all you remember is him growling, muttering something in his native Nucerian tongue, and the next thing you know, your clothes were in tatters around you and he looked feral as he eyed your naked body. Oh.

Roboute Guilliman - Turns out he's a fan of office sex; you fucked around so much that Guilliman had your ass finding out on his desk. With his head buried between your legs. Please be quiet, my dear. There are people beyond those four walls. And yes, please run your fingers through his hair some more. Tug on it a little, too.

Mortarion - *stares in seventy times seven whilst surrounded by seven of the Death Guard.*

Magnus the Red - You thought Guilliman was the only one who liked it when you pulled his hair? Comes with a side of... pleasurable Warp shenanigans.

Horus Lupercal - The hoochiest of the hoochie daddies. The Primarch meets your bullshit with the most blissfully arrogant smile ever and proceeds to keep you up the entire night, reminding you why the Emperor named him Warmaster. Those tactics in the bedroom are devastating, babe. You're practically a zombie the next day.

Lorgar Aurelian - D'aww, look at Lorgar's inner dom coming out. All that resentment came out in one of the best hatefucks of your life. Kudos to you, darling.

Vulkan - You fuck around and find out and it turns into an all-night bear hug bonanza. But naked.

Corvus Corax - He puts his abilities to... good use. "Nevermore", quoth the Raven as he pulled you into the comfortable embrace of the darkness and made you his wonderful Lenore.

Alpharius Omegon - GOTTA FUCK 'EM ALL! ALPHA LEGION!