#even Annabelle was surprised

[thecubes]

.

[lay-z]

Simon Riley is your nemesis.

cw/info: 18+ | time skip; cheating/infidelity; smut; angst; cussing; open ending

♰ [back to black | masterlist]

He’s here.

Standing on the opposite side of the field by himself under the old chestnut tree, his heavy gaze is glued to the lush grass of the soccer field. He looks slightly different than he did the last time you’d seen him a few weeks ago—a little more put together and somehow even bulkier. Strong.

He’s watching you, observing the way you walk over to the sideline, settling down next to the parents and waiting for the game to start while his heart is nearly bursting through his chest, sweaty palms stuffed into the pockets of his worn jeans.

Meanwhile, you could sense his presence before you could see him—you somehow always do—and after greeting the other parents currently present to watch their kids play, waiting for the game to start, you politely excuse yourself and make your way over to him.

It finally stopped raining three days ago, and now it’s a surprisingly warm and sunny April spring day; warm enough to wear one of your new dresses. Tommy, who turned five just last month, has a soccer match and while John is running errands with Annabelle, having a daddy–daughter day, you stayed to support your son.

The moment you start walking over to him, Simon straightens his broad shoulders; trying to keep his nerves at bay. He didn’t expect this to happen. You haven’t much as spared him a glance since your wedding.

He’s filled with tension, a mix of anticipation and trepidation building up in him as you approach, his eyes trailing over your curves, your new hairstyle, the way the sun dances off your dewy skin—

Bloody hell. You’re still the most beautiful woman he’s ever laid his eyes on.

He clears his throat, looking slightly awkward, as you come to a stop right in front of him.

“Hey,” he manages, a hint of uncertainty lacing his gruff tone, muffled by his mask.

“Hey,” you greet back, slightly less awkward as you take off your expensive pair of aviator sunglasses to get a better view of him.

Even in this weather, he dresses in thick jeans, combat boots and hoodies. His skull balaclava secured in place.

“If you wanna keep a low profile, I suggest leaving that bloody mask at home, Riley.”

The corner of his mouth quirks up in a half-smirk beneath the black cloth as he shrugs unapologetically. “Can't help it, pet,” he replies with a quiet chuckle, tucking his hands deeper into the pockets of his trousers.

It’s been some time since he’s seen you this up-close without any disturbance, and he uses the moment to study you closely, his gaze taking in every inch of you, lingering on the way your summer dress hugs your curves; how the colourful floral pattern on the crème-coloured fabric accentuates your complexion.

Seeing you dressed like this, all loose and free, makes his heart twist painfully in his chest. You’ve changed some since having your second child and his fingers itch to touch as his eyes flicker down to glance at you ample bosom.

For a brief moment, he wonders if you’re still breastfeeding.

“Mhm, sure.” You kiss your teeth appraisingly as you give him another once over before crossing your arms. “You came to watch Tommy play again.” It’s a statement, not a question, and you can't blame him for being here and trying to see his son grow up—albeit from the shadows.

You’ve been wondering how he knows when and where Tommy has his matches, he certainly didn’t ask John, but then again, it doesn’t surprise you at all that he keeps himself informed.

“That obvious, huh?” he mutters jokingly, lifting one corner of his mouth in a slight smirk. His gaze drifts off to the side, watching the kids running onto the field and warming up, their parents cheering them on. He knows Tommy is one of the fastest, never afraid of the ball, a bloody Liverpool fan—thanks to Price.

He lets out a quiet sigh as he looks back at you, his expression turning serious, but you caught that flicker of longing and sadness in his tawny eyes.

“I can’t stay long,” he adds, his voice low. “Just... jus’ wanted to see him, y’know?”

And despite everything, you can’t not worry about him.

Your stomach churns and you hug your arms around yourself tighter as you gaze up at him, squinting against the bright daylight without your sunglasses. John didn’t tell you about a new upcoming assignment, and the news don’t fail to piss you off.

“Where are you going?”

His gaze locks with yours, and even through the balaclava, you can see the slight frown on his face. Simon hesitates before answering, debating whether he should tell you the truth or not; he can tell that you don’t know about it yet. Finally, he heaves a heavy sigh and looks towards the field again, avoiding your gaze.

“Special Forces business,” he answers simply. “Can't say more than tha’.”

You let out an involuntary snort, a rather whimsical sound, before cupping your hand over your mouth and nose. “Sorry.” You make a dismissive small gesture with your other hand. “I just–”

Composing yourself again, you continue: “Uh, nevermind.”

You don’t want to mention John right now and how he usually always tells you where he’s going whether he’s allowed to or not.

However, Simon can practically read the thoughts running through your head, and another pang of guilt hits him.

“Listen…” he starts slowly, taking another careful step closer to you. “I–” he pauses, fighting the urge to reach out and touch your face, your arms, your hair. He wants to feel you again, to hold you, to pull you close, to be near you. It’s been years since he last held you—his woman.

Your lashes flutter as he murmurs your name and suddenly, the warm air around you seems to fizz with tension. Dangerous tension, but you stand your ground; refusing to flee despite knowing better.

“What?” you rasp, tipping your head back to gaze up at him with bright doe-eyes.

“Use your words, Simon.”

His heart is pounding in his chest at the sound of your voice saying his name so sweetly, at the way you look at him, eyes practically sparkling in the sunlight. He can almost feel the electricity crackling around you, and he feels like he might go insane from it. He steps even closer, practically towering over you now, chest to chest, invading your personal space. His dark eyes are fixed on your face, drinking in every feature like he’s never seen you before.

His throat feels dry when he swallows thickly, his voice is gruff, raw with the emotions he’s holding back as his words rumble from his chest: “You know what, pet.”

The wooden door to the storage room falls shut behind you with finality; the sound echoing through the empty club house building while everyone is outside, watching the soccer games on the fields, enjoying the nice weather.

You should feel utterly ashamed about this—how easy it was for him to coax you away from the herd of your flock like the big bad wolf he is—but you cannot bring yourself to think about anything else but him right this moment.

It’s dark and dusty and you can barely see him except his large silhouette, thought you sure can feel him—big hands, once so familiar, groping and roaming over your body with urgency while you’re slowly backed up against the nearest wall.

Your breath gets caught in your throat at the feel of his hands on you, at the way his body towers. His touch is rough, desperate, fingers digging roughly into your hips, your waist, and your thighs as he presses himself against you, pinning you against the chilly wall.

His forehead drops down to rest against yours, and his ragged breathing mixes with yours.

“God, I missed you,” he whispers gruffly, voice rough with need.

The words are stuck in your throat—I missed you, too,—but you swallow them down and focus on his presence instead, the here and now.

A brief indulgence, it’s what this is.

“Take your mask off.” Your hands are fisting into the front of his hoodie, torn between pulling him closer and pushing him away for good.

And yet, you find yourself standing on your tiptoes like a lovesick schoolgirl to nudge your nose against his clothed one: “Kiss me.”

Simon takes a shuddering breath, his fingers gripping your hips tightly over your dress, his body trembling with the effort to not lose himself in you, to not fully give in to the desire coursing through his veins like molten molasses, but your voice, the way your fingers curl into his hoodie, the way you ask him to kiss you—it’s his breaking point. He doesn’t hesitate a second as his mask hits the floor carelessly. Fuck, he’s missed this.

He cups your face with both hands and his lips crash onto yours. God, you taste just the same.

The kiss is rougher than anything, all teeth and tongue; both of you drowning in your shared passion. It’s been so long, too long, and that knowledge makes him kiss you even harder, his tongue pushing into your mouth with a possessive need while he cups your jaw and squeezes to make you open up wider. His hands grip your hips, holding you in place against the wall, while his body presses you into it, trapping you there.

It’s like a shockwave to your system as his lips connect with yours for the first time in years.

Shock and awe, because this isn’t supposed to feel this good, this bloody right, and you should put a stop to this, but his chapped lips mould as perfectly to yours as they used to; his tongue licking into your mouth so eagerly that it’s taking your breath away; tasting of cheap cigarettes and peppermint gum.

You can feel your pussy throb and slick up within seconds while he sighs into your mouth; toying and nipping at your lips as playfully and feral as ever.

And it’s a losing battle. Weak. Weak. Weak. Weak—

“I–fuck–” Holding his face steady in your hands while your breaths mingle and his forehead rests against yours, you can feel your brain short-circuit. “I need you.” I want you.

He’s drunk on you, on the taste, on the feel of you against him. Your ragged breaths, the feel of your fingertips, the little sounds spilling from your throat—it’s all driving him insane. His hand sneaks under your skirt, his calloused knuckles grazing your quivering inner thigh. So bloody soft.

Your words are his undoing, the ones he was never meant to hear again. He knows he doesn’t deserve this.

“You have me.” You bloody own me. The words come out guttural and raw, more of a growl than anything as his fingers dig into your flesh. A shuddering breath leaves your throat as the pads of his fingers slowly rub along your clothed slit, and he groans when he finds the cotton damp already.

Reaching out with a shaky hand, you cup his crotch in retaliation and feel a familiar bulge straining against his jeans, large and warm, and too big for your palm.

Simon lets out a deep, ragged grunt at your touch, his heart fluttering wildly in his chest as he feels your hand on him after so much time of neglect. He’s been outright starving for you, for the feel of your hands on him, the way your supple skin feels against his, and he grinds his shaft into your palm, his body trembling and his cock weeping into his boxers with need. His eyes are closed, and his forehead is still pressed against yours.

“Fuckin’ hell, I'm losin’ my bloody mind here, love.”

Cupping the back of his head with your free hand, you swiftly ruck up his hoodie and undo his belt before unzipping his jeans with your other hand. He doesn’t stop you, only breathes hard, and when you finally slip your hand inside and past his boxers, you slowly start stroking his throbbing cock, earning a deep exhale of relief from him.

There’s so much you want to say, but you keep biting your tongue and let your eyes fall shut as you touch and explore him, drinking in his reactions while you feel his thick shaft throb in your grasp.

Simon leans into you, his hips rocking instinctively into your hand as his cock twitches and leaks precum into your palm, the feel of your touch igniting a blazing fire within him. He’s been craving you so badly, his body aching for you. He’s drowning in the sensations, his brain short-circuiting as badly as yours.

Both his hands are roaming over your body under your dress skirt, exploring the curves he remembers so well, his lips leaving a trail of heated kisses on your neck.

“God, I–” he breaks off, his voice rough, “I’ve missed you so fuckin’ much.”

“Yeah,” you rasp, brows furrowed in a pained frown as you keep rubbing his length almost reverently, stroking back his smooth foreskin until he hisses at the sensation. “Me too.”

Simon can feel the heat pooling low in his gut at your touch, your quiet admission, and he fears he might finish in his boxers at this rate, his breathing coming out ragged and harsh. He presses his hard, muscled body against yours, pinning you to the wall as he buries his face in the crook of your neck; inhaling your scent, the familiar smell of your skin sending a wave of emotions through him.

“I need more.” He breathes against your throat, chapped lips dragging over sensitive skin, teeth grazing over your pulse point while his hands grope your plush thighs.

“Then take it.” It’s all you can reply as a myriad of emotions threatens to choke you.

And when you give him permission, you can feel the rough pads of his fingers teasingly caress over your upper thighs and hips before he pulls and slips your cotton panties off your legs while his face never leaves the crook of your neck; shaky breaths puffing against your flushed skin. He gropes your ass cheeks with a string of muttered curses and chuckles at your squeak of surprise, when he squeezes them hard enough to make your pussy lips spread.

You swat at his biceps with a soft hiss, but that only spurs him on, and he rucks your skirt up before gripping the backside of your thighs and lifting you up effortlessly to wrap around his hips as he pushes you up against the wall.

You’ve almost forgotten how playful and passionate you tow used to be with each other, and for a split second, an almost carefree smile ghosts over your lips.

There’s a tense moment, a brief pause, where he’s holding you there, his fingers stroking the flesh of your thighs as he rubs the sticky tip of his cock through your slick folds. He takes a deep breath through his nose, his lips pressing against your forehead, savouring the feel of you against him.

“You're so wet for me,” he murmurs, his voice gruff. “For me, right?” He sucks in a breath. “Say it.”

You let out a small whimper, a pathetic noise in the dark of this dusty storage room. It’s a surreal moment; teetering on a nightmare and yet you’re clinging on to it. To him.

“For you,” you obey softly. “All for you, Si.”

The nickname slips out and then his cock slides in without any trouble, like he’s never left, like he’s been stretching you out every night like he’s supposed to. You gasp and groan in unison and your spine arches at the intrusion; toes curling inside your ballerina shoes as he bottoms out while your whole body buzzes deliciously.

You’ve gotten more sensitive since the pregnancies, and for a split second, you worry he might not like what he’s feeling, but then he lets out the most wanton moan—loud enough for you to swiftly clamp your hand over his mouth to muffle it momentarily.

“Fuuuuck.”

He’s truly losing his mind now as it spins with the feeling of you around him, his eyes rolling back in pure bliss as he feels you silken walls ripple around his rock hard prick. He’s home. There’s no better way to describe it. He’s missed this, missed you, the way you move, the way you feel, the sounds you make. He has to take a deep, grounding breath, his grip on your thighs tightening as he tries to calm his racing heart. “I’ve dreamt about this.”

He’s possessed, desperate and hungry; needing to touch every inch of you, to touch every place he’s been craving and longing for so badly. His lips find yours again, his tongue driving deep into your mouth. It’s a possessive kiss, raw and hungry, and he can’t get enough of you, of the taste, of the way your body fits against his.

“Touch me,” he murmurs against your mouth.

Your legs wrap tighter around his waist while your dress is tucked under your armpits, keeping it out of the way. Your whole lower half is bared to the warm air inside the stuffy storage room, rear pressing against the cool wall as he starts thumbing your rapidly swelling clit while you moan into his mouth. His admission that he’s been dreaming about this, about you, makes your pussy clench and flutter around his thick shaft buried deep inside your sopping walls.

And then, you obey him as you drag your shaky hands over his buff chest, feeling the fabric of his black hoodie under your palms. He must be sweating bullets and your mouth waters at the thought of your tongue licking over pale, scarred skin—lapping up his salty taste.

When you cup his face tenderly, you lean in to capture his lips once more; deep and passionate, eagerly swallowing his low moans.

He can’t get enough of you, of the feel of your skin against his, of the taste of your lips on his own. His body responds instinctively, his hips starting to rock slowly, the movements rough and desperate, like he can’t get close and deep enough.

“Love ya,” he grunts, his words raw and ragged. “Been so goddamn cold without you.”

It’s a confession filled with pain and regret, the words spilling out before he can stop them. He’s vulnerable, he’s broken, and he’s desperate as he presses you against the wall, his body trembling with the effort to hold it together, to not let the emotions he’s been bottling up tightly swallow him whole.

“Need you,” he breathes against your lips, his voice rough and strained. “Need ya so damn bad, love.”

You bite your tongue in return, unwilling to reciprocate his love confession yet. He doesn’t deserve to know that you never stopped loving him; that you never quite stopped being his despite the name Price engraved on your golden wedding band—the bloody ring that seems to be searing the skin around your ring finger in reprimand.

In your lust-filled frenzy, you’re tempted to take it off and throw it into the darkest corner of the room.

“Then fuck me like you mean it,” you retort instead as you wrap your arms around his neck to stay close, to breathe with him. “Our son is outside playing soccer with his friends and I don’t have any fucking time for this.”

His eyes darken at your words, a low, primal groan escaping from his throat. He obeys, because he always has; because he’ll do anything you ask of him, because he still has no damn dignity when it comes to you.

Simon grips you more firmly, his blunt nails biting into your flesh as his hips start to snap upwards. “Like this, huh?” he snarls. “Want me to make ya feel me, love? Make ya feel how much I fuckin’ need ya, how goddamn much I missed ya?!”

“That right?” you manage to grunt, still holding his face as you keep your forehead pressed against his, sweat now starting to make your skins sticky.

He’s holding onto you, desperate to keep you close, to make you feel him, make you feel and remind you how much you’re his. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, his hot breaths ghosting over your skin, and his words are almost a reverent prayer: missed you, missed you, fuckin’ missed you.

His fingers dig into your thighs, his grip tight and possessive, as his hips angle you towards him just a little bit better before he practically bounces you on his cock like a ragdoll; biceps bulging with the effort underneath his hoodie.

Soon enough, you can hear how embarrassingly wet you are while he pumps his hips and fucks you with deep, powerful strokes that leave you gasping and mewling for him.

“Fuck, baby,” you whine, lips brushing against his temple while his fingers dig into the plush fat of your ass.

Baby. It’s just one word, but it tears through him like a bolt of lightning. He loves you so goddamn much, he always did, and now, he’s drowning again, concrete weights pulling him under. He can hear the slick sounds of your body taking him so well, the way you whimper and whine against his ear. And he wants you to say it again, wants to hear that word spill from your lips again and again.

“Don’t call me tha’,” he grouses with a huff.

“You called me love,” you hiss in return, nipping at his cheekbone. “I’ll call you whatever the ah! f-fuck I want.”

He lets out a low growl at your defiant words, his powerful hips snapping into you with more purpose now; grunting and cheeks flushing at your comment, because you’ve always known how to get under his skin. He grips your thigh, pulling you down onto him rougher, his cock driving into you with determined, punishing thrusts.

“You,” he grits his teeth, “are goddamn infuriating.” Simon wants to shut you up, to make you focus on him, on the way you feel, on how good he makes you feel.

He wants you to say that you’ve missed him, that you’ve craved his touch, his presence. Something, anything to hint that you still love him, that you still need him.

The pleasure is almost unbearable and you go limp in his arms; too overwhelmed and too focused on your strange feelings at the same time. You can feel your orgasm readying to break you apart in his embrace, though you know Simon is right here, all too eager to catch you as soon as you fall.

As you bury your face in his neck to muffle your cries of pleasure, you suddenly feel your throat tighten and your eyes well up with fat tears.

Meanwhile, Simon can already feel you coming apart in his arms, can feel the way you tremble and clench around him. He knows the bloody signs; has studied them during his time with you. It’s everything he wants, everything he’s missed, and it almost undoes him. He clutches you close, one hand wrapping around the nape of your neck to hold you tight against him, and his movements become even more desperate, borderline frantic as the harsh sounds of skin slapping skin fills the small room.

Simon can feel the tears building up, too, feel the lump in his throat grow bigger until it nearly chokes him. He doesn’t quite know what cocktail of emotions he’s currently experiencing, but he’s too lost in it all to care. He’s struggling to contain himself; struggling to hold back his own sobs as he buries his face in your hair, his body shaking with the effort, his muscles tight. His whole body is taut with tension, getting lost in the way you’re making him feel.

He can’t hold back the words anymore; they come out in broken whispers against your skin: “I love you. God, I love you so fuckin’ much, I missed you, I love you, baby. I love you,” he utters like a mantra as his eyes squeeze shut, causing his tears to spill.

His words push you over the edge and rip you apart at your carefully mended seams, cracks and holes where he’s trying to sneak and settle in again.

And you’re too weak to deny him.

You cry out in pleasure and pain as you hold on to him; arms wrapping around his muscular neck tightly while your tears soak into the fabric of his hoodie, and you cream around his throbbing cock like your needy cunt has a mind of her own.

As if your body knows how to take him despite years of not having him; of being depraved from the man you love.

Simon can feel you, he can feel every inch of your body as it clenches and tightens around him, and it’s too much, too much, too goddamn much.

He can’t speak anymore, can’t do anything but cling to you, like you’re the only thing keeping him together. His hips are stuttering, losing their rhythm, and he’s so close, so damn close; trying to hold on, to savour this, but it’s too much, too much, and he’s breaking, he’s breaking, he’s breaking—

“Say it. God, baby, please jus’ say it,” he groans, begs, demands, his voice a ragged, desperate gasp. “Say you miss me. Tell me you miss me as much as I miss ya, love.”

You grit your teeth until your jaw aches, muffling your pathetic mewl as he fucks you to the brink of overstimulation. With your eyes squeezed shut, you whimper against his neck: “Come f'me, baby. Just, please... come–”

The sound of you, the words you’re panting into his neck—it’s not what he wants nor needs to hear, but he’s willing to take whatever you offer him, and it pushes him over the edge at last. Simon gasps out your name, his body shuddering, his vision going white. His balls draw up tight; his cock throbs violently as he fills you up with his needy load. He holds on to you, his bulky arms wrapped around you like a vice.

All spent, his body trembling, his head spinning, he keeps grinding his hips, desperate to keep his sensitive cock nestled against your womb. It’s intense, and yet he can’t stop the words that spill from his lips once more, as sincere as they are raw: “I love you. Oh, God, I love you. I missed you so much, loved you every day... every fuckin’ day.”

He’s losing himself completely, but he welcomes this madness if it means he gets to keep you at last. He can’t let you go, can’t bear to feel you slip away again.

He presses his forehead against yours, his breathing ragged, and his chest heaving with the exertion. With a hoarse, broken voice, he rasps out the words again, pleading, begging you: “Please... say you still love me.”

Your heart is thudding so harshly in your chest that you fear a cardiac arrest for a second while your brain is filled with cotton, only slowly processing the moment—what just happened, what you’ve done.

Slow tears are still running down your burning cheeks as you pull pack to gaze at him, sniffling softly, and in the semi-darkness of this random storage room, you can barely make out the shape of his features, the blackness of his eyes.

When you cup his cheek with one shaky hand, you feel wetness beneath the pad of your thumb, causing your breath to hitch and your heart to shatter as you realize that he’s crying, too—yet you can’t bring yourself to say it.

“Why... Why does that even matter, Simon?” you croak out. “This won’t happen again. It–It can’t.”

He can hear it in your voice, the way you’re already pulling away, already shutting him out again.

It’s like a knife to his wretched, rotten heart.

He tightens his arms around you, refusing to let you go, refusing to let you slip away, and refusing to pull his softening cock out of your warm, welcoming cunt. His eyes are dark, his expression fierce, even with the tears streaming down his rugged face.

“Because it matters,” he says his voice rough with emotion. “It matters, dammit!”

He pulls you closer against his chest, his grip so tight it’s borderline painful, like he's afraid that if he lets go of you, even just for a second, you’ll disappear into thin air like a rainbow bubble that gets popped, and he won’t let that happen—won’t let you slip through his fingers like drift sand.

His grip is unyielding, his body tense as he holds onto you tightly, keeping you pressed against the wall. His heart is pounding in his chest, his breathing ragged as he tries to control the maelstrom of emotions that are surging through him.

“Please,” he whispers, “Please don’t push me away again.”

Your nimble fingers tangle in his hair roughly while you caress your other hand over his broad back soothingly, and you feel the damp, heavy fabric of his hoodie as his sweat soaks through it.

It’s so hot in the room at this point and the weight of what you two have done is starting to push down on your chest, making it harder to breathe all of a sudden.

“I’m married to John,” you weep into his neck, nails digging into his skull. “We have a baby together now and Tommy... Tommy calls him daddy, Si–” Your voice cracks and you hold him tighter, trembling in his arms.

“And I can’t forget what you’ve done to me.” To us.

His heart is clenching painfully in his chest as he listens to the words you’re saying, each one a stab to his gut, though he can’t hold back his desperate response nor the fresh wave of tears spilling over and dripping onto your skin.

“I know,” he says, his voice thick with regret, with guilt. “I know, baby, but I regret it. Every day. Every fuckin’ day I regret it.”

He frantically blinks away his tears as he trembles against you, and he knows how pathetic he must be sounding right now, though he cannot bring himself to care.

“I’ve never stopped loving you. I will never fuckin’ stop lovin’ you.”

If you vote, please consider reblogging, liking, or commenting! Thanks :)

[mina-posts-nonsense]

annabel being protective over lenore

SHE BLOWS HER COVER & KILLS DEMONS TO SAVE HER PRINCESS !

against monetary union :O

she doesn’t forgive OR forget when it comes to Lenore:

uses duke as a sacrificial pawn to ensure lenore’s safety :(

it still makes me sad that duke called out to her bc he thought she would help him :(

against a spider🧐❓

doesn’t let lenore ring the bell so she’s underestimated and protected:

she’s so desperate to find and protect lenore even if it means disobeying the dean’s rules:

doesn’t stop mummified zucchini from bullying ada :((

(ok btw ik this might not just be because of ada befriending lenore & trying to use her, it could just be her testing how far montressor is willing to go and also how willing ada / morella obey him, but she’s got a bit of a mean streak, so it wouldn’t surprise me if it’s a combination of all three.)

bonus- worrying about lenore :))))

[popcat69]

Incorrect Tmnt quotes

Mikey: What does 'take out' mean? Donnie: Food. Leo: Dating Raph: Murder Y/n: IT CAN MEAN ALL THREE IF YOU'RE NOT A COWARD.

Donnie: Favourite horror movie?

Mikey: It

Raph: Saw

Leo: Annabelle

Y/n: High School Musical. after watching it I spent all my middle school years terrified that the entire school would start singing something and I’d be the only one who didn’t know the lyrics

Leo: Croissants: dropped

Raph: Road: works ahead

Y/n: BBQ sauce: on my titties

April: Shavacado: fre

Mikey: Miss Keisha: fuckin dead

Donnie:

Donnie: I didn’t understand a single word of that and I hate every single one of you.

Y/n: Change is inedible.

Donnie: Don't you mean inevitable?

Y/n, spitting out coins: No, I did not.

Mikey: Hey Donnie,

Donnie: Yes?

Mikey: Can a person breathe inside a washing machine while it’s on?

Donnie:

Donnie: Where’s Y/n?

Donnie: April isn’t answering their phone

Y/n: I’ll call

Donnie: Casey and I have both tried six times each, what makes you thi-

April: Hello?

Y/n: Top 30 reasons why y/n is sorry... Number 5 will surprise you!

Raph: Top 30 anime deaths. Number One: YOUR FUCKING ASS RIGHT NOW!!!

Mikey: I'm incredibly fast at maths.

Y/n: Alright, what's 30x17?

Mikey: 47

Y/n: That's not even close.

Mikey: But it was fast.

Donnie: Would you guys be there for me if I was going through something?

Raph: Nope, absolutely not.

Leo: I hope it sucks, whatever you're going through.

Mikey: I hope it emotionally scars you for the rest of your life.

Casey: I hope you reach out to me so I can ignore you.

Y/n: I can't wait to go to your funeral, knowing I could've changed that outcome.

*Everyone is standing around the broken coffee maker*

Splinter: So. Who broke it? I'm not mad, I just wanna know.

Everyone:

Leo: ...I did. I broke it.

Splinter: No. No you didn't. Mikey?

Mikey: Don't look at me. Look at Y/n.

Y/n: What?! I didn't break it.

Mikey: Huh, that's weird. How'd you even know it was broken?

Y/n: Because it's sitting right in front of us and it's broken.

Mikey: Suspicious.

Y/n: No, it's not!

Raph: If it matters, probably not, but April was the last one to use it.

April: Liar! I don't even drink that crap!

Raph: Oh really? Then what were you doing by the coffee cart earlier?

April: I use the wooden stirrers to push back my cuticles. Everyone knows that, Raph!

Leo: Okay let's not fight. I broke it. Let me pay for it, person A.

Splinter: No! Who broke it!?

Everyone:

Raph: Splinter... Donnie’s been awfully quiet.

Donnie: rEALLY?!

*Everyone starts arguing*

Splinter, being interviewed: I broke it. I burned my hand so I punched it.

Splinter: I predict 10 minutes from now they'll be at each other's throats with warpaint on their faces and a pig head on a stick.

Splinter:

Splinter: Good. It was getting a little chummy around here.

'Can I copy the homework?'

Donnie: I can help you with it!

April: Yeah, sure.

Y/n: Bold of you to assume I did the homework.

Raph: lol nope.

Mikey: Wait, we had homework?!?!?!

Leo: *Read 5:55pm*

Leo: bitches b like “im baby” but have childhood trauma and neglect like wtf do u know about being baby u were forced to grow up from an early age anyways I’m bitches

Leo, driving y/n and April: So how was your day?

Y/n: We almost got surprise adopted!

Leo: What?

April: We almost got kidnapped.

Leo: Oh, okay.

Leo: *slams on the breaks* WAIT WHAT?!

[jayktoralldaylong]

No one can tell me this wasn't personal. XD

Yes, it's likely that Montressor suggested the idea and wanted to get rid of Lenore, so Annabel offered someone else to protect her. But the ammunition she had against Duke. 💀 Like she had built it.

- He's Lenore's best friend.

- One of the primary reasons she doesn't want to leave her friends behind (along with Pluto).

- While she's busy playing pretend-enemy he's got ALL of Lenore's attention and seems to understand her in a way Annabel can't which irritates her more (cause why would Lenore risk their perfect plan for some stray she just picked up? How dare she XD).

- He's Montressor's roommate which encourages Montessor to free up space.

- The above also opens the floor for experimentation on if they get in trouble for missing roommates, Montressor would take the fall.

Her plan is so clinical, devoid of emotion yet glaringly jealous at the same time. Annabel Possessive Lee, before taking actions against presumed competition you should calculate how your girlfriend would react to what you just did/tried to do. 💀😭

the pure indifference in her eyes with a hint of disgust oh she wanted duke gone that’s for sure

[blacknedsoul-blog]

Montresor (and Willtresor) is the Bad Ending of the White Raven IV: the saga continues

Okay, now that these chapters have been released I can talk about this issue. I must say that this twist has been just the way I like twists: no, the surprising thing is not that it happened, but that, when you look back, it not only makes sense, it also recontextualizes some little things that stick around.

A person who is not there

There's one thing that's cross-cutting to these four idiots: they're absolutely desperate for someone to look at them. And when you think about it, it kind of makes sense: Lenore has lost the one person who seemed to even slightly care about her and locked up like an animal, Annabel is a hypocrite so terrified of being perceived as crazy that she's a breath away from collapse, Will is the kind of guy who blends in with the walls to such an extent that hardly anyone remembers his face, and Montresor has been seen as an devil since fucking birth.

However, the fine line that separates the Annabel/Will and Lenore/Montresor duo is drawn into something quite complicated: who are on the edge of the abyss and who can't fall any lower.

Both Montresor and Lenore, for different reasons, are trapped in inescapable situations: Montresor will never be anything more than a shit-talking charlatan in anyone's eyes and Lenore will die before she shakes off the label of a madwoman.

Then, they come along. These two people who have not only been able to look them in the eye, they are also people in whom they can see themselves reflected: a weak pushover who can't fend for himself and a lady who is one mental health slip away from being put in a straitjacket.

They have been that person. And their desperate cries for help have never been answered.

But this time may be different. If Lenore and Montresor can save Annabel and Will, in a way, they are also saving themselves. A 50/50 between a selfless motivation and a huge reassertion of one's own ego.

Which leads to the first difference.

Where Lenore offers Annabel a deal on equal terms, a “you and me against the world, baby”; Montresor has with Will a relationship based on subordination: it is he who must take care of Will and, thus, Will is beneath him.

What Annabel and Will understand from the arrangements of this deal are two very different things: where Annabel must live up to the extraordinary person that Lenore is in order to accompany her on equal terms, Will must make sure that he is a weak individual that Montresor can take care of and mistreat in order to feel superior when necessary.

This is not a problem for either of them because there is one little thing that Annabel and Will are able to mold as if it were plasticine: their identity.

Fragmented identities

These scenes have exactly the same purpose.

And I absolutely love them for that.

But let's take them one at a time.

Both Annabel and Will are two invisible people who at least feel like they've been saved by their favorite person. Lenore is Annabel's knight in shining armor and Montresor is the bad boy capable of moving forward despite everything that Will longs for.

They love them. And they need them.

Because Annabel is just a pretty accessory incapable of thinking outside the golden cage she's lived in all her life. And Will is incapable of thinking for himself because he doesn't want to deal with the responsibility of doing so.

So they build this perfect mask to please their special people. A carefully chiseled mask tailored to be loved based on what they believe their special person wants from them.

In both scenes, Annabel and Will have their world fall apart as they realize that the mask they have created for their loved one is not only unwanted, but viewed with disgust and contempt. So the mask slips for an instant to reveal what lies beneath only for their special people. But to very different ends and consequences.

Annabel drops her self-imposed role as unbeatable queen, begins to cry her eyes out, has a panic attack and even -to Lenore's surprise and horror- comes to doubt that she is loved. She is far from living up to the role she should have: she is scared, lonely and, from her reaction, probably doesn't even want to do this.

Of course, Lenore swoops in to comfort her because her beloved damsel in distress is in a vulnerable moment. But all it takes is for Lenore to suggest that Annabel can approach other people for the unbeatable queen to come back: even pushing her to the limit hasn't gotten her to get what's really going on out of her. And after Annabel would rather have Duke and Pluto throw her off a balcony than allow Lenore to reveal herself as a traitor to her friends, it is definite that Lenore has lost this battle: she has already exhausted all her options which have ranged from pleading, to loving words and, in this scene, to verbal violence. The unbeatable queen is in a place where she can't reach her and any future attempts will only succeed in putting the two of them in a more complicated situation.

On the other hand, Will has a small moment of vulnerability with Montresor, giving her this little speech that works as a confession: this confusion about whether he wants him or wants to be him is, as I read in some places, a fairly common situation among gay men. Before he dies, he ends up stealing Montresor a kiss.

But all this has been nothing more than to see his reaction. Because Will is not dead. Not at all.

Although he's put his feelings on the table, he doesn't seem to expect Montresor to return his affection. Just knowing that he cares seems to be enough for the moment, because he plays dumb after it all happens. But Will's made it pretty clear that he is capable of an enormous level of manipulation and that he works with a subtlety that even Annabel couldn't dream of.

Now that they've gotten a peek at what's beneath the masks, Lenore and Montresor find themselves trapped with monsters of their own creation that they are unable to comprehend: Lenore can't even fathom why Annabel continues to do this despite how much she's suffering and Montresor doesn't even know what Will's intentions really are.

Kind of deliciously ironic because didn't Lenore want her partner in crime? Didn't Montresor want his little mutt to fight a little?

Weren't they the ones who wanted to be their number one?

And, as the icing on the cake, they are alone in this, because the monsters they have created only let them get close. Everyone else in the world has been fooled by Annabel and Will's perfect masks, so if they wanted to (or even could) tell anyone about this absolutely no one would believe them.

Even if Lenore wanted to convince her friends that Annabel isn't a homicidal maniac, it's virtually impossible for them to believe her after what happened with Duke. And Montresor can't even begin to explain what Will did.

Love and control

Here I need to stir up the duos a bit.

Montresor and Annabel are not only blonde charlatans with parental problems, they have also learned to relate to the world in terms of control: they protect themselves by moving others around like pieces to get them to do what they want (at least in Nevermore, Annabel in life would not have been able to do these things as far as we know).

Where Annabel puts herself at the center of the board as a queen, Montresor is all about pissing off everyone around him because that's the only way he feels seen.

But they are not the ones with the upper hand in their relationship.

Will and Lenore have demonstrated by actions -we can't be sure in Lenore's case it's a conscious thing- that they are capable of giving all the affection, security, and loyalty if they get what they want from Montresor and Annabel.

It's hard to know what Will wants from Montresor at this point, but he seems quite content for his bad boy to remain his bad boy who has something resembling a soft side to him. In Lenore's case, this waltz between having doki dokis every time Annabel exists around her and being absolutely furious seems to be tied up in her desire to have Annabel by her side: when Annabel plays queen and walks away, pushing Lenore away from whatever is going on; she immediately becomes wary or, at worst, aggressive; but is caring and responsive when Annabel shows a vulnerable side.

This ends up generating a funny situation where the relationship between Montresor and Will is more functional than Lenore and Annabel's because there is one side subordinate to the other: Will has Montresor by the balls, but lets himself be mistreated; while Annabel refuses to put Lenore's desires above the danger they are both in (and even refuses to tell her what the fuck is going on).

Conclusions

Okay, I have to admit that I have been a bit dramatic in some parts of this essay and I have to rectify that so that you are not left with the wrong idea.

The first (and most obvious) thing is that it looks like Annabel is going to get to have honest relationships beyond Lenore. Of course, her friendship with Ada and Prospero can't really begin until the “allies till battle royale do them part” deal is dissolved and she's confronted for putting them both in a sticky situation. That yes, they signed up to be allies of the Machiavellian mastermind, but to Caesar what is Caesar's: no real friendship will form here until those bumps are crossed.

And speaking of Annabel, if there's one person who has a microscopic chance of believing Montresor the fucked up shit Will has done, it's possibly Annabel. My only argument is this:

Like, she doesn't say Will is harmless, she says isolation makes him pliable. And although she is underestimating him and not knows Will is a threat, but maybe she'd be willing to think Montresor isn't crazy if she finds out what happened.

Another point is the conclusion she ended up coming to in all these trials: the line that separates things is drawn on who has their heart in the right place and who doesn't. So, where Montresor is terrified of Will while Will holds a threat over Montresor's head, neither Lenore nor Annabel is afraid that the other might hurt them. And while we don't know what Lenore's feelings are about how she's been treating Annabel in some respects (this for the date I've uploaded this essay), if her face in this scene and the little spoiler that was uploaded to tumblr tell us one thing: It's that the answer is probably guilt. Let's see what comes out of that.

Finally, there's one not too nice thing I'd like to say about when I saw spoilers from the fast pass. Okay, I know this comic is moving at a snail's pace and that while it's been a few days for the characters, this chapter came out like fifty weeks ago. But people, with all my love: I want you to see the difference between Ada and Will's reactions in this scene. Ada is obviously uncomfortable and guilty; while Will has an “upsi” face.

And when Lenore confronts him, Will has the face to complaining that he is scared. He at no point in this confrontation shows a single shred of real remorse.

I know there are people who have been through abusive relationships who have identified with Will and I don't mean to go on to bring that up. But what these scenes raised at the time is that there is something off about this guy, something that should give you a bad feeling because his behavior doesn't fit that of a person who has been forced to do something terrible.

Another thing I've seen someone point out at the time is that Will feels different in his character presentation and has been getting more pathetic as we see him more screen time. We now know that he has been learning how to behave.

Add to that that his reaction is the only one we don't see when it's revealed that there's only a second life available and we only see it when Montresor shakes him. But he doesn't seem particularly affected beyond the chaos that's going on around him.

All these little things keep telling you that there's something wrong with Will. And what Chapter 120 does, is show you what the thing that didn't add up was: what we've been seeing so far is a mask worn by a much more twisted individual and, now that we know that, we can start to figure out who he is and what he really wants.

This, people, is William Willson in all his glory. And Will turns out not to be the protagonist, but the doppelganger tormenting him. I don't remember who said that theory, but: you were absolutely right.

Anyway, this has gotten long. Thank you very much for making it this far.

[gremlingottoosilly]

Actress!reader who played one of the victms in Slasher!Konig documentary

You look pretty in red. Surprisingly, Konig knew it even before seeing you in person. Cutting you in person. You look good on that TV of his - your eyes wide open, your lips trembling as you were trying to fight over the actor who played him. Konig calls bullshit immediately - the girl that you were supposed to be playing with didn't fight at all, just fawned over his knife and let him get bored easily while playing with her guts. He didn't even get hard from squeezing her heart in his hands - another surprise that almost made him think something was wrong, and he actually started to become normal. Oh, but you looked so nice on the screen. So defiant and pretty, with a few exploitative shots of your tits like he'd actually bother to undress the victim before killing them. He liked the detail, especially the angry flair in your eyes...and they way you'd eventually submit to his actor, letting him "kill" you. Although seeing another man playing with you like this made him more jealous than what he'd like to admit. Oh, but now he wants to find the director of that shitty documentary and give him something nice, a little gift - for all the unnecessary shots of your pretty face stained with blood and your perfect body all on display.

Oh, but you're even prettier in person. God, Konig can't contain his excitement. You weren't filming on an actual location, of course, so you wanted to check out the forest in question. Maybe get some of the energy for your next role - you didn't know the "based on real events" before your first-ever horror documentary was so literal. You thought it would be kinda like that Annabelle movie - but with maniacs instead. It wasn't. And Konig makes sure you look even prettier, covered in red in person than you did on the screen. He doesn't kill you, of course, his morbid curiosity already satisfied with your role in the movie. Now, he wants to explore something else - something deeper, stronger. Something that would make your flesh sing under his touch...and of course, ripping your panties and burying his tongue between your thighs is just the way to go. You weren't like this on the movie screen, you're not acting now - it's all just for him, something unique for a man who wanted this for so, so long. Let's just hope you're good enough of an actress to play the role of a devoted housewife for a deranged slasher.

[muzetrigger]

In celebration of Nevermore S2, I feel the need to explain why I’m hoping for more Ada page time/development and why she’s my absolute favorite character, despite the series being absolutely stuffed with quality.

Oh and also why MorellAda is peak. I WILL TAKE NO ARGUMENTS ON THIS POINT.

So yeah, MAJOR SPOILERS Y’ALL

Okay, so when we’re first introduced Ada, she’s a minor antagonist, not just in the sense that she’s not the main villain, but that literally, she’s just kind of an annoyance to both Lenore and Prospero. That being said, shortly after the Labyrinth arc, we see her genuinely impressed with Lenore and trying to make amends.

Now at that point, there’s no real reason for us to believe that Ada is telling the truth. Yeah, she seems like she’s being genuine, but so far, we also know that she’s been playing some social games to get ahead.

That’s where we get this first piece of insight into her character (not actually the first piece but whatever):

Ada chooses caviar as her last meal, despite not liking it, or ever having had it before. She is the only student who doesn’t enjoy her final meal, and that tells us that one, Ada doesn’t know what’s good for her; two, that she probably comes from a lower class background that never would have had access to caviar; and three, that she aspires to that upper class position. She is exactly what Morella would call a “phony” but while her phoniness impacts her social behavior in the ways that Morella criticizes, she’s also lying to herself without even realizing it.

Okay, but that’s a bit of subtle character development, so Red and Flynn hit us with this:

(In case you didn’t hate Montressor already)

This moment is so critical to understanding Ada because it shows that she has absolutely no limits when it comes to proving her worth to other people. Why? Because Ada has no sense of self-worth. She is completely dependent on other people’s thoughts to feel adequate. That’s why she clings so hard to Prospero and Annabel Lee, which makes this preceding exchange even more brutal.

Ada reaches out to Annabel for support, and Annabel ignores her.

Annabel BETRAYS her, and this is going to become something of a running theme for Ada.

Now, of course, Annabel has problems, but this is COLD.

So cold even Prospero is surprised, and this sets up why Ada crumbles so easily, because the one person she thought was her friend at this school, literally her roommate (and we know what happens when you’re not on good terms with your roommate), the person who gave her (fake) love advice, just left her out in the rain.

No one is on her side, not Annabel who’s ignoring her, not Prospero (who is rightly) annoyed with her clinginess, not Will who is supporting Montresor, and certainly not Montresor who is verbally abusing her.

The only person by Ada’s side is Morella, partly because she’s being targeted too, but also because Morella is trying to protect Ada.

(Look at that hug. That is a small puppy trying to cheer up her depressed friend.)

Chapter 39-40 firmly cemented Ada as my favorite character because we get a deconstruction of this preppy, pompous, phony personality into someone with crippling self-worth issues, and I don’t know about anyone else, but I relate HARD to those feelings of inadequacy and needing external validation. Will might be the doppelgänger, but Ada is the one with Imposter Syndrome.

Anyway, now we’re going to have to skip a few chapters, because while the haunted house arc is great, it doesn’t really do much with Ada’s character. We do learn that Ada was almost definitely a servant in her past life because she’s able to navigate the house’s secret passages, and we learn that yes, she’s a romantic who clearly doesn’t understand TPO (time, place, and occasion).

Those details are important to understanding Ada, because they help contextualize why her confidence is so abysmal (servants aren’t to be seen or heard) and why she clings so strongly to ideas of ladyhood and romance (the women she served would certainly have appeared to be more comfortable than her, though I’m sure Lenore and Annabel would disagree).

We also get this feast for the MorellAda shippers:

At this point, it’s implied that Morella has stonewalled dozens of students into Prospero’s death trap, but she makes one exception that she will not stand for, and it’s Ada.

At first, I thought this was a little weird, because why wouldn’t Morella protect Lenore? I mean, she’s the protagonist and clearly treats Morella better, but looking back, it’s telling that Ada is the one who Morella chooses.

Morella’s whole deal is that she wants to protect people, and Lenore isn’t vulnerable, Ada is.

Red and Flynn do a lot of excellent foil work in Nevermore, most prominently with Lenore and Annabel, but the contrast between Ada’s dependence on what other people think of her and Morella’s dependence on what she can do for other people is just another reason why I think MorellAda is so good.

But the real interesting events happen post-house.

Prospero has had it.

Now, was Ada being clingy? Yes.

Was she being totally oblivious to all of Prospero’s signals? Yes.

Did she deserve to be told directly that Prospero was just not that into her? Hell. Yes.

But did she deserve THAT much of a verbal beat down? Probably not, especially keeping in mind that Annabel told her this:

So now that I’ve thrown Annabel under the bus for her hand in this disaster, I want to look at one line from Prospero in particular:

“Nothing you say will make you good enough.”

It’s not the final line of Prospero’s diatribe, but it’s definitely the one that hits the hardest for Ada. She is trying SO hard to play the part of a lady in order to be loved, and she is being told that at a fundamental level, she is inadequate.

And she takes that about as well as someone who’s had this happen to them could:

A hatchet to the stomach’s going to ruin anyone’s day, but we can reasonably infer that the person who axe’d Ada was probably the young master she was serving and was having an affair with, and that he aimed for her stomach to abort any kind of child she might have carried.

Again, we see this theme of betrayal and rejection. Ada might not have been able to be a lady, but in an affair, she might been able to pretend that she genuinely had her master’s affection, even though she was just there at his convenience.

This was foreshadowed all the way back with Ada’s first confrontation with Montressor and it’s a great example of how thoroughly planned Red and Flynn’s writing is (Annabel Lee’s panic attack at Lenore’s death in the Labyrinth and the House Fire is another amazing example).

But, it’s also super traumatic which means we finally get Ada’s Spectre!

First, let me gush about how AMAZING this design is. Just aesthetically, it’s great. But it’s also amazing because of how it showcases so much of Ada’s identity. If you look at the spectre’s skirt, you’ll notice it has two distinct parts, a larger back that mimics a lady’s hoop skirt, and a pleated miniskirt, which wouldn’t be out of place in a skimpy maid costume. In her spectre form, we can clearly see Ada attempting to match a lady’s silhouette but upon closer inspection, we can also see the part of Ada that might have sparked her fatal affair, this symbol of risqué servantile behavior.

It’s also worth mentioning what ISN’T in the Banshee’s design, her abdomen. Obviously, this might be a reference to the fact that she was killed by a hatchet to the gut, but if we get dark with it (and it’s Nevermore, we can’t not get dark with it), what men traditionally (and unfortunately still do if the 2024 US elections are anything to go by…) value in a woman, her reproductive ability, is absent.

Ada, who places so much importance on what others think of her, is literally is worthless to them. (I want to clarify, I DON’T personally believe that, but from a 19th-20th century male perspective, that tracks.)

We could also read her abdomen’s absence as another attempt for Ada to play into feminine expectations. Because she’s missing her stomach, she has a tight hourglass figure. I don’t personally believe Ada has an eating disorder, but as the last dinner scene clearly indicates, she has a complicated relationship with food and what stigmas are attached to specific cuisines, and unfortunately many people do metaphorically throw away their stomachs to pursue beauty goals like Ada’s spectre does literally.

Stepping away from design, I also love how Ada acts immediately after getting the slightest bit of power.

She is PETTY.

She taunts Prospero (and let’s face it, you cheered. Don’t lie to me!), which I find so interesting because suddenly, Ada is the one giving opinions.

Ada is finally allowed to express herself.

Here, she takes it out on Annabel, which makes total sense. Annabel abandoned her and is the embodiment of what Ada craves outwardly. But Ada also recognizes that she herself is a servant who was forced to serve people like Annabel and denied their comforts because of her status. If Ada hadn’t been a maid, if maybe she had been a noble or a “true lady”, maybe should would have been allowed a romance or allowed to keep her child or at least allowed to live.

The Banshee is such a perfect moment, because until this scene, Ada has bottled up her insecurities and played the part of a loyal lackey and been this “phony”. As a servant, her entire livelihood would have revolved around keeping up appearances (or disappearances) around her masters, but as a ghost, Ada is more genuine than she has ever been.

And that’s so wonderfully displayed by how Annabel defuses the situation:

To the very end, we see Ada being vulnerable. Annabel takes advantage of her insecurities, and as the Banshee, Ada doesn’t try to hide the fact that it devastates her.

If the Montressor moment didn’t guarantee a place in my heart for Ada, Episode 71 definitely did. I’m not going to argue that characters in Nevermore haven’t experienced worse, but I will argue that no character in season one ever gets close to how pathetic and distraught Ada is here.

And what’s so heart-wrenching about this for me is that Ada is aware of how pathetic she is. She knows she’s been acting like an idiot and throwing a tantrum like a child, which is a surprising amount of insight and maturity for someone we have been led to believe is quite frankly an idiot. And yeah, I relate to those feelings of self-loathing and not knowing what to do or even where to start triaging a disaster I made myself.

Now, Montressor takes advantage of this like the abuser he is by swooping in and wooing Ada, but before that, I’m going to rewind like the shipper I am to replay this:

Again, we see Morella trying to help Ada! And obviously, that’s not what Ada needs at that moment, but it’s worth keeping in mind that out of everyone in the lecture hall then, Morella is the first and really only one to reach out to Ada. (Montressor is a manipulator. He doesn’t count.)

Last time skip, I promise!

The end of the Wall arc doesn’t quite reach the highs (or is it lows?) of Ada’s character development, but I’m so excited for what it sets up in season two.

So, Lenore and the gang find where Montressor has Cask of Amantillado’d Duke and they dig their favorite French man out while beating the shit out of our cowboy(?). There’s a ton of great moments (hell yeah, Pluto! Get him!) but the battle really swings in the misfits’ favor when Duke hypnotizes Ada to traumatize Montresor.

One, this is just an amazing display of Duke’s spectre, two, it shows that Montressor has reasons (maybe not great reasons but at least they’re reasons) for being such an asshole, and three, it shows us that mental spectre powers are straight up busted.

We already knew from Prospero that Ada’s fear factor could trap a person inside a vision of their own trauma so realistic they can feel the physical effects of it, but she can also send a man with a broken Fibula into a full blown frenzy, AND Duke’s hypnosis is something even he can’t dispel.

(Does this look like the face of a man who has things under control?)

It also sets up this exchange:

Morella is able to break through Duke’s hypnosis, and she does it without attacking Ada’s insecurities like Annabel did. Now, I’m a hopeless MorellAda shipper, so of course I reading into this, but even then, it showcases how important Morella is to Ada. After all, Morella is basically the only person who has stuck by Ada’s side this whole time.

…At least until this happens:

Morella has had enough of Ada’s excuses, and just like Prospero basically tells her to shove off.

But the painfully ironic part about this is, Ada is telling the truth. This ONE time, it really isn’t her fault. It’s Duke’s.

But Morella won’t let her get a word in and I love how Flynn drew Ada’s face. It’s a different kind of fear than when Ada was groveling in front of Montresor or reeling from Prospero’s rejection. Here, she isn’t afraid of being abandoned by Morella; she’s afraid of losing Morella.

I know that difference might sound REALLY contrived to some people, but in this case, Ada has a way to keep Morella in her life that doesn’t involve debasing herself and believes that Morella will listen to her. For the first time ever, Ada thinks she has a little control over the situation together with a friend, not an enemy. They can talk things out, and that really shows how close her connection with Morella is and how that connection can be the catalyst for Ada to start developing some self-respect.

Except Morella totally shuts her down.

Of course, I’m disappointed that there’s this “divorce arc” but it makes sense in context and it’s healthier for Morella to make a clean break from the posh crew (even though Ada clearly needs her wife more than ever, like come on, don’t leave her in Monstresor’s clutches!)

Speaking of which, I’m much more disappointed with how Ada immediately crawls back to Montresor and Annabel after being chastised. If there’s one thing I have on my season two checklist, it’s Ada learning to have some confidence in herself (and maybe tossing Montresor to the Hunt).

And I really want an apology from Morella and Duke to Ada. Now THAT’S delusional, and I might be the only one who thinks Ada deserves those apologies, because let’s face it, Ada is a wreck, but it would be nice, especially if she gives out the several dozen apologies she owes the misfit crew too, so that she can hang with them and spend more time with her wife Morella.

Anyway, yeah.

I really like Nevermore.

And I really like Ada. I think she’s severely underrated.

Of course I love Lenore and Annabel, and Morella is a precious and badass cinnamon roll, and Duke is so SO cool, and Pluto is cute as hell, and Eulalie is basically manga-Orihime (which is amazing), but there’s something so HUMAN about Ada.

I empathize with her in ways that I just can’t with the rest of the cast because… they’re just too awesome. I have difficulty believing Lenore or Annabel will ever feel something as fundamentally devastating as Ada has. At their core, they’re just stronger people. Ada is someone who needs more support and it’s nice to see those weaker characters treated with the same amount of care as a protagonist who we typically see stumble a lot but ultimately succeed. With side characters, there’s a genuine chance that they fail permanently and that adds so much to Ada’s stakes.

And honestly? I’ll say it. I think a lot of the students had alright lives or even good lives, they just happened to be cut short traumatically. Exceptions for Lenore (obviously) and Pluto (baby, you deserved so much better than your deadbeat dad), possibly Eulalie for having to live through WWII, but you’re not going to tell me that Montresor didn’t have a good run being awful, Duke didn’t have a successful performance career, and Prospero wasn’t a wealthy bastard. But who knows? We haven’t delved too much into the others’ backstories, so I could be very wrong.

Anyway, I guess this was just a very long-winded way of me saying I love Ada because I’m a total girl-failure and also I’m super excited for season two.

[gotta-ketchum-at-bba]

Hey! It's me, Ash Ketchum! You may have heard of me, since I've participated in tons of league tournaments in almost every region (I've only won one, but all of them were really fun, so I don't really mind). Anyway, that was a few years ago.

For the past couple years, I've been at home with my mom, helping her out. Turns out while she was gone, she started dating Jessie from Team Rocket, which is weird, but Jessie (and James and Meowth) quit Team Rocket and she's actually a really good person now. She makes Mom really happy, so I'm happy too!

Anyway, fourteen and I'm ready for more adventure, so I started attending Blueberry Academy! It's a really cool school, and even the classes aren't that boring! I can't wait to make a lot of new friends here! Right now, I only have Pikachu with me, but there's so many new Pokemon here that I can't wait to meet!

//OOC under cut

Hey, it's Xander from @mira-annabelles-poke-kitchen and @sunny-xander-ooc back at it with another blog. I'm genuinely surprised there aren't more Ash’s on here, he's fun as hell. I'm not a minor, but Ash is, so don't be weird. He's baby.

I'm basing this off of @yamujiburo's because it's funny and I love lesbians. Also, Ash is aroace because I said so.

[a-man-in-the-crowd]

My Will Dissociation HC Makes Sense I Swear

okay sooo??? tumblr like messed up the original version of this so let's try this again 🤩

[TW: dissociation, i try not to go into too much detail about it but yk proceed with caution]

will's always been a bit of a weird character. while i did immediately attach myself to him, i think the episode that really got me invested in who he is as a character was episode 80's bathroom scene... so naturally, that's where this all started.

i've talked in depth about why i think will is eavesdropping here, so i'm not going to get into that. however, what i want to focus in on is how seemingly out of it he is in this scene. we get full-body shots of these random ass guys will is listening to, almost like we're reading an entirely different comic— and then, suddenly, he's brought out of it.

at first, will's reaction seems pretty normal. he gets knocked into, he's surprised. as one tends to be. however, what made me raise an eyebrow was how slow will is. he just stares at the guy for a moment while he apologizes, seemingly readjusting to what's going on, and then takes another second to realize he should respond and he should spit out his toothpaste. he takes just long enough for the guy to assume the interaction is over and to leave before will can get a word out. just all-around horrible reaction timing, as if he forgot that he's also a person in this plane of existence and had to take a minute to adjust.

so, naturally, after realizing this i decided to go back and observe him in earlier chapters. he seems normal enough in his debut, which is a detail that will be mildly important later, and his next appearance is episode 30, where he's...

completely not paying attention. which, i mean, fair, this isn't really his drama, but he doesn't even look up to see what the hell is going on. he's? fidgeting, maybe? picking off lint (which would honestly be kinda funny)? meanwhile, everyone else is at least paying half a mind to what's going on.

in the next episode, he seems to start looking up when annabel asks lenore if she manifested, and when lenore says no one manifested, he seems... intrigued? he's looking over at monty, wondering what the response is going to be. but that's basically the strongest reaction to anything he's had this whole scene.

he's just generally really detached from everyone else, like he's in his own little bubble. he doesn't even join their little stand-off, seemingly behind the posh gang. this could just be because he doesn't want to bring too much attention to himself — after all, the first thing he finds out about these people is they're forces to be reckoned with. but i also think there's room for interpretation so.

of course, early-nevermore will is pretty apathetic (whether that's on purpose or not is irrelevant here), and anyways it was the morning he could've just been tired, so let's skip ahead a bit to the final meal scene and its direct fallout.

a pretty good portion of the fandom knows this already, but will doesn't have a reaction to the one life thing. he's the only one to not have one (besides, of course, annabel who is always two steps ahead and whom will parallels), which on its own is pretty weird... but, to me, the weirder part is what he says afterwards.

now, could this be him playing dumb on purpose? yes. there's plenty of reason to, and will is a performer at heart. however, this could also imply that he's used to not hearing these sorts of things, maybe because he doesn't tend to pay attention. i doubt will would have the self-awareness to realize this isn't just a normal issue everyone has, or if he does and he's playing dumb it could be him using things he thinks makes him 'stupid' to achieve the effect he's going for.

but honestly, he's just really unresponsive for like no reason sometimes. like here.

he's putting a man in a wall, one of his accomplices was just pushed to the ground by the ringleader, and will... is just staring. there's something to be said about his complete and utter lack of morals, but here i'm just honing in on how he doesn't seem to react. like at all. to anything that's going on. like will??? (this also how i feel about him just ignoring the blood stained wall like buddy 😭)

i skipped the manor arc because he isn't really like this at all in that arc (besides directly after when he's just woken up — which, by the way, could make this all evidence he has insomnia or something). however, that does lead me to a point i want to make. will isn't always like this, which means he isn't inherently apathetic (amorality aside...), he has moments of apathy, and that changes things.

we already covered the bathroom scene, but the episode after is a panel that really made me think i might not be reaching too far here. fellow nevermore fans, this is how william wilson's mind looks:

fragments of a shattered mirror (this is also around the point i started considering he might be specifically plural). a reference to william wilson, probably, but even then it's an interesting choice of visual. as you scroll down?? the glass?? detaches?? eventually falling away?? leaving spaces in between?? real i mean wow that's pretty weird.

[note: i do love the implication that monty offering to be his friend is one of his more vivid memories (and the all-black background, making it seem completely focused on monty and him??). like. oh gay— i mean okay will.]

the two will focuses after this are pretty normal for the most part, he's pretty present in the moment, more evidence he isn't Just Like That, and then ep116, where there's nothing about dissociation specifically but well. am i crazy for thinking this sounds like a conversation with himself?

obviously, people talk to themselves sometimes. but "wonder how long this one'll last for" and "there's worse places to get stuck i guess" sound like two different people talking at once. but yk. i could just be seeing what i want to see so take this one with a grain of salt.

and now, for the thing i waited three weeks to make this post for: episode 120

this is maybe the most vulnerable we've ever seen will, and this vulnerability is about how he feels like he almost just wasn't — or isn't — real to other people. he barely makes an impression after all, no one notices when he walks in a room. they act like he doesn't exist. and, maybe some deep part of will agrees. maybe he doesn't exist at all.

—

anyways that's the end of me yapping thank you for stayinggg

[imfierylilac]

I’d like to reflect a bit on the subtle parallels between two seemingly very different characters — Duke and Ada.

At first glance, they appear to have nothing in common. But if you look closer, there’s a surprising number of similarities.

Both seek the spotlight and long for recognition. Duke manages it more naturally and effortlessly, while for Ada it often comes off as clumsy or strained. Still, that shared desire to be seen is something they both carry.

They also share a kind of fixation on high society — though in opposite ways. Ada is a humble maid who admires the aristocracy and dreams of becoming a lady. Duke, on the other hand, despises the upper class — perhaps precisely because he was never part of it. Yet he, too, tried to make his way into that world.

Duke and Ada are both deeply loyal. When someone becomes truly important to them, they’re willing to go to great lengths — even self-sacrifice. Both have made conscious choices to face pain, danger, or loss for the sake of someone they love. You can clearly see this in their relationships with Lenore and Annabel.

They also seem to accept their own deaths with a kind of quiet resignation, worrying more about the loved ones they leave behind than about themselves.

Both were betrayed by people they trusted. Their deaths came as a direct result of that vulnerable trust.

And finally, behind their sharp edges and difficult personalities, both Duke and Ada hide softness, kindness, and emotional vulnerability — qualities they don’t show easily or right away.

[celandeline]

Because We’re Doing This For the Thrill of It

Farleigh x Reader SMUT, sequel to Not Your Boyfriend, Baby, tw for cheating and being cheated on, you know the deal

part one

Felix’s hands on your hips keep you pressed to him as you dance, your back pressed against his chest as you dance, the music pounding through the club keeping time with your heartbeat. The smell of sweat, vodka and cigarettes invades your nostrils, but you’re too drunk to care about the stench, too focused on the scene in front of you. 

It’s been two weeks since you fucked Farleigh, and you don’t think his eyes have left you for more than a few seconds the whole time. 

India grinds against Farleigh, one hand wound up around his neck for leverage as she clumsily dances, eyes closed. You couldn’t care less about her. Your eyes are locked on Farleigh’s, the green/blue lights of the club painting him in unusual colors, making him all the more entrancing to look at. The top few buttons of his shirt hang open, and you can see where some of India’s body glitter has rubbed off on him, catching the light and reflecting it away. He lazily dances, that perpetual air of boredom hanging around him even in the midst of the club - you get the sense that he’s just humoring India for something to do at this point. After all, he hasn’t even spared her a glance in the past five songs. 

You smile at him as you dance, wishing that it was his hands on your hips instead of Felix’s - but at the same time, this is fun too. Watching him watch you, knowing that he couldn’t care less about the girl that he’s with. Knowing that he’s thinking the same things about you. It’s intoxicating - more so than the green tea shots you’ve been downing. 

Felix leans down, his nose dipping into the crook of your neck, breathing heavy. A bead of sweat drips from his face onto you, and you tip your head back onto his shoulder, eyes still locked on Farleigh. You watch him wrap his lips around a cigarette as Felix’s voice booms in your ear. 

“Come do a line with me?”

You nod against his skin, and let him steer you off the dancefloor, through the crowd and towards the bathrooms at the back of the club, leaving the rest of your group on the dancefloor. You toss a look over your shoulder as Felix takes your hand, and find Farleigh again. He smiles around his cigarette as you throw him a gaudy wink before the crowd shifts and you lose him from your sight. 

Felix leads the way, tugging you along behind him until you reach a quiet corner of the club near the very back. You grin up at him as he digs out a little baggy from his pocket and hold up your forearm for him to shake a line out on. His eyes meet yours as he runs his nose along your skin, the cocaine disappearing and a line of goosebumps rising in its wake. He inhales sharply, blinking a few times as he scrunches up his nose. “Here.”

He passes the baggy to you and holds out the palm of his hand. You shake out a line and quickly hoover it up, almost nuzzling into Felix’s palm as you do. He always offers you the palm of his hand for that reason you think - he likes to watch you eat out of it. He likes to watch everyone eat out of it. He gets off on being a white knight - you’ve seen it a million times. 

You hand the little baggy back and watch him tuck it back in his pocket, his pupils already starting to dilate as the coke sinks in. You watch him watch you, and you can see in his eyes what he’s about to do before he does it, so it’s no surprise when he roughly grabs you by the jaw and kisses you, too much teeth and tongue to be really loving in any sense of the word. 

It’s nothing like how Farleigh kissed you. Farleigh kissed you like he loves you. You bite Felix back. 

He laughs when he pulls away, and grabs you by the hand again to drag you back to the dancefloor. You follow along in his wake as the crowd parts for him until you’re back where you started. India and Annabel pull Felix back into the throng, smiling up at him with that familiar hunger in their eyes as he lets go of your hand in exchange for theirs. You let Felix’s sweaty palm slide out of yours without protest. Let them have him - your eyes scan past Jack and Oliver as you look for who you really want to be here with. 

He finds you first, grabbing your wrist and spinning you around to drop down to his knees, comedically sexy, holding onto your hand for leverage as he shakes his ass. You laugh, even though you can only barely hear yourself above the music, and he stands back up grinning at you, cigarette trailing smoke like a halo around his head. He doesn’t let go of your hand as you start to dance. He keeps it friendly, just in case Felix glances over, which you appreciate. To the common observer, you’re nothing but friends. 

The way he looks at you is anything but friendly. 

Playfully, you pluck Farleigh’s cigarette out from between his fingers and tuck it between your lips, a pseudo-kiss. He watches you take a long drag, and bats away the smoke that you blow into his face with a dry smile before he steals the cigarette back. Still dancing, you spin around, facing the rest of the group again. 

The first thing you see is India’s hand skirting up Felix’s shirt and the way her eyes are half-lidded as she looks up at him. He doesn’t seem to care too much though - he’s too busy swapping spit with Annabel, his tongue bullying its way into her mouth. Your lips curl in disgust before you can stop them - you really hope that's not what it looks like when he kisses you. 

Maybe it’s the vodka, maybe it's the coke, maybe it’s the culmination of the months of watching him do this to you, but you’re really not in the mood to just let it slide tonight. You’re standing not even two meters away - he can’t think you wouldn’t have noticed? You turn back around to Farleigh, and grab his hand, tugging him back towards where you and Felix had hidden away before. He doesn’t protest, his eyes flicking between India and you before he follows along.

The crowd doesn’t part as easily for you as it had for Felix, so it takes you longer to find your way back into the recesses of the club, amidst the more debaucherous partygoers - you breeze past a couple very obviously about to fuck against the wall, a group of people gathered around a table taking turns doing lines and a girl in tears as she storms away from the bathrooms with her phone wedged between her shoulder and her ear. Pushing past them all you pull open the door to the mensroom and pull Farleigh inside.

He grins at you, obviously amused. “Someone’s pissed.”

You roll your eyes, and push open the door to the stall at the very end of the row. “You wanna fuck or not?”

Farleigh raises his hands in surrender, and walks into the stall, still grinning. You follow him in, and slide the lock into place behind you, even though you’re fairly confident you’ll be uninterrupted. If it were the women's room you’d chosen, there would be no way in hell you could get away with this - too many drunk girls crying in the mirror - but the mens room is blissfully empty. Farleigh still looks like he’s about to laugh. 

“Stop looking at me like that.” You say, pushing him against the wall and starting on the buttons of his shirt, picking up where India left off. 

“I’m sorry.” He says, not really sounding sorry at all. “It’s just - you said that you didn’t care about the cheating, but it looks like-”

“I don’t.” You insist. And you don’t in the sense that you couldn’t care less about Felix being faithful. He’s never going to hurt your feelings by choosing someone else over you when the only reason you’re with him in the first place is to live off of his excesses free of charge. But you care in the sense that he’s not even trying to hide it anymore. He wasn’t even two meters away from you with his tongue down Annabel's throat. He surely can’t think you’re that fucking stupid. 

“It seems like you do.” Farleigh slips his hand under the hem of your dress, pushing the glittery fabric up until it’s above your hips. He trails a finger under the lace band of your underwear, playing with the elastic. 

“He was not even two fucking meters away.” You say, undoing Farleigh’s belt, and then moving to the button of his trousers. “It’s like he thinks I’m actually stupid.”

“I thought that was what you wanted?” He teases. “I mean, I thought that was the point of pretending that you don’t know he’s cheating on you.”

You push Farleigh’s trousers down his legs, and start to palm him through his boxers. “There’s a line.” You say. “Like, yes, I want him to think I’m a little stupid so he doesn’t figure out that I don’t actually like him, but this is just insulting. I’m not blind.” 

He tips his head back against the wall, watching you through half-lidded eyes as you work him to full hardness over his boxers. You take the opportunity to attach yourself to his neck, kissing over the same spots you had before, renewing the mostly faded marks. You never asked him if India noticed - or if she cared. Judging by the way she was dancing on him earlier, it didn’t even register. Not that she has room to talk really, with how she was feeling up Felix in front of you. 

“Why do you care anyway?” You ask against his neck. “Me being pissed at Felix is a good thing for you.”

“Why do I care if you’re upset?” He drawls, sarcastic, looking down at you. “Beats me.”

The implication hangs heavy in the air, and you pull back from his neck to look up at him. “Farleigh.” When you’d joked about it two weeks ago, when you fucked, it was just that - joking. You didn’t think he actually cared about you as anything more than friends-

He leans down to kiss you - soft, tender - everything that Felix isn’t. Your hands wander to his hips, and then up the sides of his stomach, trailing your nails along his skin to make him shiver. You slip your tongue into his mouth and he groans, his fingers dipping beneath the band of your underwear to push them down your legs. You step out of one side, and let them hang on your ankle.

When he pulls back, a string of spit dangles between your lips. You can’t tell if it’s yours or his. His pupils are blown wide, and he looks at you in the way that Felix used to when he first asked you to be his girlfriend. It makes something flutter in your stomach - something you haven’t felt in a really long time. 

He starts to say something, but you stop him, scared that it might be too vulnerable, too tender. Tracing your finger along the column of his throat, you drop your voice into a sultry whisper. “Fuck me against this wall Farleigh.”

You see him twitch in his boxers as he shuffles you around so that your back is up against the cinderblocks. He dips a hand into his waistband to pull his dick out, a bead of precum already collected at the tip. You wrap your arms around his shoulders as he places his hands under your thighs, and work with him as he lifts you so that your hips meet his. The cinderblocks scratch the skin of your back that your dress doesn’t cover, but you don’t care - it barely registers, your body thrumming with the coke you did earlier and need. 

You dip a hand down to find his cock and line it up, pressing the tip against your entrance. You watch his eyelids flutter at the simple touch, and smile. He tucks his head into the crook of your shoulder as he pushes in, and the moan that leaves his lips trickles right into your ear. The stretch doesn’t even burn this time, and pleasure shoots through you when he bottoms out, reaching that spot inside you that Felix can never seem to find. You let out a sigh, and press your lips to the side of his neck, tounging at the shell of his ear. 

Farleigh gives a few experimental thrusts, readjusts his grip on you, and then begins to snap his hips against yours in the way that you’ve been craving since the first time you had him. You have no idea how India can still want Felix after having Farleigh - after having this. The way he pants and whines and groans as he fucks you makes the feeling a thousand times more potent, and you take the opportunity to wind a hand into his curls, tugging his head out of your neck so that you can look at him. 

Lips still spit-slick from before, he presses them against yours hungrily. You swallow up his moans as soon as they leave his lips, trading them for your own as he forces choked little sounds out of you with each snap of his hips into yours. His fingers dig into the backs of your thighs like he’s trying to leave a bruise there on purpose. If you were more sober, you’d tell him off for it - but you can’t bring yourself to care. Felix wasn’t even two meters away when he’d stuck his tongue down Annabel's throat. 

Farleigh pulls away from the kiss, pressing his forehead against yours, watching his cock slide in and out of you. “Fuck.”

You cast your eyes down to follow his, and the sight makes you clench, causing Farleigh to groan, his eyes rolling up into his skull for a split second. 

He drops his head back into your shoulder, leaning so that your chests are pressed together, breathing heavy. “Don’t do that, I’ll cum.”

“I want you to cum.” You say, running your fingers up and down his spine, savoring the feeling of his warm skin under your touch. 

“Fuck.” He keens, mouthing at your shoulder. “You can’t just say-” He cuts himself off with a moan as you clench again - this time on purpose. “Stop. I want you to cum first, I came too quick last time.” He breathes, sounding absolutely debauched. 

“Farleigh.” You clench again, not on purpose, as heat rushes through you. You busy yourself with pressing wet kisses against the side of his face and neck as he fucks you, trying not to think too hard about the fact that he wants you to cum first. He’s putting your pleasure before his, something Felix has never done - and likely will never do. You picked the wrong cousin. You’re sure of it now - even though being with Felix has elevated you to a status you could have never reached before. 

Fuck. 

Spurred on by the fact that he actually cares about your feelings, the coil of heat in your gut tightens. You grip onto his shoulders tighter, mouthing at his collarbone to try and ignore the fact that he cared when you seemed upset and that he wants you to cum first since he did last time is making you feel a particular way. 

He doesn’t have to worry about making you cum first, because you do, muffling your moan into his shoulder as you tense in his grip, pleasure shooting through you, hot and tingly. “Farleigh-!”

He presses his lips to yours, muffling the moan that escapes from him as his thrusts lose their rhythm. You kiss him back with everything you have, and wind a hand into his hair, holding him close to you as he pants and whines as he cums, high pitched and breathy against your neck. “Oh fuck, fuck-” He keens. “Mm, you’re so good, you’re so good, love you-”

“Farleigh?”

The cold touch of death shoots up your spine as Felix’s voice rings through the bathroom. You hadn’t heard the door open, you have no idea how long he’s been standing there. Still panting, Farleigh lifts his face out of your shoulder, wide eyes locking with yours. Hurriedly, he pulls out, stuffing his softening dick back into his boxers and pulling his trousers back up his thighs. You slip your underwear back into place and push your dress down, strangely calm. You should be panicking - Farleigh’s panicking, you can see it - but you’re not. Startled, sure, but panicked? No. You’ve known this was going to happen eventually. 

You slide the lock in the stall door, and pull it open, coming face to face with your boyfriend. 

He’s pissed - brow drawn tight, mouth tilted down into a tight frown, nostrils flared like he’s ready to fight. “What the hell is all this then?” He says, glancing between you and Farleigh. His eyes fall on you. “You’re cheating on me with my own fucking cousin?!” His gaze shifts back up to Farleigh. “And you’re fucking my girl- I thought we were mates, Farleigh. Family. I can’t fucking-”

You cut him off with an incredulous laugh that echoes around the tiled room. “What can’t you fucking believe, Felix?” You say, the anger you felt from earlier coming back full force. “That I finally am cheating on you back?”

His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t look at you, his eyes still locked with Farleigh’s. He doesn’t even have the decency to be ashamed at all, too full of self-righteous anger to realize what a massive hypocrite he is. And you’re fucking sick of it. 

Reaching up, you grab his jaw, forcing him to look at you, uncaring about the way your nails dig into the skin of his cheeks. He might be mad, but you’re enraged, filled with months of resentment like a thousand bullets. 

“I’ve known the whole fucking time.” You spit. “You’re not slick, you know, but I let it slide because you’re Felix Catton and Felix does what he wants, whenever he wants to and never suffers the consequences.” You sing-song. “I knew what I was signing up for when I said yes when you asked me out.”

“Sue me for wanting to enjoy my university years.” He says. “It’s different-”

“How?” You cut him off, searching his eyes. “Because it doesn't seem different to me at all. To me, it seems like you can dish it out, but you can't take it.”

He exhales, anger steaming from his breath. “Fuck you.”

You mockingly pout, pulling him closer by the jaw. “What are you going to do, break up with me?” You taunt. “What then? Who’ll protect that golden good boy image you work so hard to curate for your parents? Golden good boy Felix needs a girlfriend, or else Mummy and Daddy will find one for him, right? Or are you finally going to come out to them as a slag?” You tilt your head, waiting for him to respond. 

You know he won't do it - he uses you as a shield from his parents expectations, that was half the reason he asked you out in the first place. You keep them off his back, and in return you get to live the life of a rich girl. That’s the deal, and he cares too much about his end of the bargain to let you go.

He rips his face out of your hold, still scowling. He glances once more at Farleigh before angrily stalking away, the door to the bathroom slamming as he leaves. 

You let out a long breath, expelling the last dredges of anger from your system before you turn around to face Farleigh. “I’m sorry for dragging you into-”

“I love you.” 

He says it too loud, it bounces around the tiled room before it finds its way back to your ears. Your gut flutters. “Farleigh.” You say, pursing your lips. 

He closes the distance between you, kissing you like he wants to go for another round. “I’ve had fantasies about calling Felix out for being a bitch for years - mm - and you - mm - he can’t even do anything back to you.”

“That doesn’t - ah - mean that you love me-”

“I can’t stand that you let him fuck you.” He confesses, backing you up against the wall again. You watch him sink to his knees, pulling your underwear back down and pushing your dress up again in the same motion, wide brown eyes looking up at you in sheer admiration. “I get so jealous-”

“That doesn’t mean you love me either.” You gasp as he starts to kiss your thighs. 

He sits back on his heels, looking up at you with such vulnerability and sincerity that you find yourself almost uncomfortable. “I care about you, and that’s close enough for me.”

It’s not ‘I love you’ but it is at the same time. He cares about you. 

“I care about you.” You say. “Too.” And it’s true, you do. From the moment Felix introduced you, you’d thought he was interesting, and the feeling had only grown the more you’d gotten to know him. He’s smart, and funny, and a bitch in the same way that you are, and kisses you like he cares. Because he does. 

Farleigh grins against your thigh, pressing another kiss to the sensitive skin. “I know.”

A moment of loving silence passes between you, and your gut flutters again. 

“I still can’t believe you said all that to his face, that was so fucking hot.” Farleigh breaks the silence, nosing between your legs eagerly. 

You just laugh, and let him in. 

[call-me-chips]

do you have any Nevermore headcanons? 😇

Sorry this took so long to answer but the thoughts were marinating >:3

My friend and I just went on a long debate, contemplating many many Nevermore hcs, so here's a bunch of the characters' swearing/cursing hcs we came up with:

Berenice swears a fair amount, and once taught Eulalie all/most of the swear words she knows because she was curious, but Eulalie doesn't know how often one should swear, so she ends up cursing a ton, and at seemingly random times. And due to her nice and somewhat innocent demeanor, it always surprises people to see such profanity coming out of her mouth

Will used to not swear at all - the furthest he'd go being "gosh darn it" - , but Montresor called him a wuss and convinced him to swear a bit more, though he's still a bit unsure and doesn't say much more than the occasional "fuck"

I feel like it goes without saying that Montresor swears a bunch, though I feel like he'd particularly enjoy calling women "bitches" or "whores" (whether affectionately or not). A bit off topic, but I feel like he also says "fag/faggot", and even though he's absolutely gay, he's in denial and and thinks he's straight, but he says it anyways (Either that, or he knows he's gay but makes everyone think he's straight to get a reaction when he uses the slur). Also I'm torn on whether or not he'd use the lord's name in vain, but I'm leaning more towards he doesn't

Ada says it's unladylike to swear. Doesn't swear at all around people. Swears a ton when no one's looking

Prospero doesn't swear often at all, and tries to avoid foul language, tho if he were to, say, stub his toe, a quiet little "shit" would slip out and he'd play it off like he didn't say anything

Annabel was taught not to swear by her family. She was taught that it was unladylike and improper, especially for someone of her status, so she tries to avoid it. Though when she's having a panic attack, she'd mumble strings of curses like "shit shit shit shit shit shit..."

Morella doesn't swear. She believes cursing is like, actual cursing, and doesn't wanna curse anyone. She comes up with her own little cusses like "son of a breadstick" or "you pillow-brained brat" or something

Poppet swears a fairly normal amount. Not a ton, but she'll swear occasionally,,, EXCEPT for when she's around the deans. Then the worst she'll go is "Oh fiddlesticks"

Dolly swears like a sailor. You cannot pry this headcanon away from me. She stubs her toe and all of a sudden you're discovering swear words you didn't know existed.

Another Berenice one that I like is that she uses a lot of "masculine" swearing, iykwim. Like, she'll often say things like "Suck my nuts!" or "My dick's bigger than yours!", things like that. Everyone gets so confused and she thrives off of that

Duke only swears in French, which means he gets to say the most foul and offensive things because no one can understand him. Also I feel like he'd come up with the most creative and out-of-pocket insults, which he'd also speak in French

Those are all the ones I remember. Sadly, I don't remember which ones we came up with for Lenore, Pluto, Merry, and Mourn :(

[stereor4t]

lesbian movies I've seen so far (review based on my tastes)

I'm going to give my opinion of the lesbian movies I've seen so far and I'm going to give them a score from 1 to 5 stars :3 it may contain some spoilers

Bound(1996)

For the year this movie was made, I was actually surprised by the END of it(fuck the obsession with killing the protagonist). I didn’t really have much faith in it by how it stars, but man, I was so surprised, I loved it, be gay do crime. ★★★★☆

Gia(1998)

God, this movie is my new roman empire, I didn’t know about Gia’s story, but the ending of the movie DESTROYED ME. the scene where shes talking with Linda and she says: now we have all the time in the world, I was so moved by it, I loved it. It’s currently one of my favorite movies.★★★★★

Lost and delirious(2001)

ugh shakespearean shit, this movie touches more than one of us when it comes to the experience of liking girls. I liked it but I felt like there was a lot of wasted potential that could’ve made it great, tbh i just wanted Paulie to be happy; the fact the Piper Perabo is in it helps the score too. ★★★☆☆

D.E.B.S.(2004)

ITS THE BEST FUCKING MOVIE IN THE WORLD, GOD. I actually hated this movie before watching it ‘cause I thought it was some dumb comedy, but god, when I gave it a chance it BLEW ME AWAY. If you want to see some lesbian spies enemies to lovers shit watch debs.  ★★★★★

My summer of love(2004)

Personally, I HATED this movie kjj, I didn’t really get ANYTHING at all, like it felt like everything was just too rushed??? like when did they even fall in love lol? Gets points just for Emily Blunt. ★★☆☆☆

Imagine me & you(2005)

Piper Perabo again and Lena Heady THE WOMAN. This movie is ART, my fav movie, it’s beautiful, comfort movie af. The true don’t let your husband keep you from meeting your future wife. ★★★★★

Loving Annabelle(2006)

This movie was made for all of us who once liked a teacher or profesor. I liked it quite a lot, but I feel like seize it’s true potential. Personally, I choose to think that the alternative ending it’s the true one lol. ★★★☆☆

Bloomington(2010)

Again for us that like fantasizing about our teachers. I like this movie but again, I feel like they didn’t really make the most of it jskdja annoying af bitching about the same but yeah, it bothered me. Anyway, i liked the movie, and I didn’t like the ending at all,I felt bad for the poor teacher :c. ★★★☆☆

A perfect ending(2012)

I know a lot of people hate this movie and think it’s shit, but I personally love it lol. Idk I remember that when I watched it it got me super emotional and i liked it a lot, dont care what anyone says to me it’s a good movie. ★★★☆☆

The girl king(2015)

★☆☆☆☆

Didn’t like it at all, boring af, i didn’t really get it, idk, i was expecting more. ★☆☆☆☆

First girl i loved(2016)

Im fond of this movie, it was one of the first ones I saw, the ending just made a me a bit frustrated, but I liked it, Brianna Hildebrand with a wig funny as hell. ★★★☆☆

Disobedience(2017)

Rachel Weisz and McAdams DAMN. Great movie, I liked it in all aspects. Although the ending wasn’t what I expected I still liked it. ★★★★★

Tell it to the bees(2018)

Mmm I think this movie is kinda meh, like it’s okay but I feel like it lacks something for me to like it, tho I didn’t get the ending, like I don’t understand the decisions each one took. ★★☆☆☆

Ammonite(2020)

Kate Winslet and Saoirse Ronan!!!! I liked it but I didn’t love it, I never got to understand if Mary hated or loved Charlotte. The ending got me frustrated!!! ★★★☆☆

Crush(2022)

The kind of movie you gotta watch after Gia, I liked it I thought it was silly, like very much teenage romcom sort of shit, like the Kissing Booth but for lesbians. ★★★☆☆

You can live forever(2022)

I think this is a great movie, interesting story, I wasn’t expecting the whole ending sequence, what Marike says to Jamie destroyed me, in my head theyre the young version of the Disobedience ones. ★★★★★

Booksmart(2019)

GREAT MOVIE, very entertaining and funny, I liked it quite a lot, it’s perfect to watch it with friends. Gigi is just like me fr best character ever. ★★★★★

[laylasredemption]

Wtf so I now can post long fics? Well, thanks Tumblr I guess the beef between us didn't last long. Here's the sad Arthur fic I wrote, hope you like it guys<3

arthur morgan x dutch's daughter!reader 3,9k words chapter 6 spoilers, death, violence

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

Until the last breath

Never in a thousand years would have Dutch van der Linde thought his own daughter would betray him. He would suspect anyone - recently even John or Arthur. But not [Y/n]. She was his daughter, his only child, the only thing he had left of Annabelle.

And yet there she stood - a gun in hand, pointed at her father, who had his own guns pointed at Arthur and John.

"You're on these two rats' side? That's what I get for raising you?" Dutch asked, his angry gaze fixated on his daughter. "You ungrateful brat."

"You didn't raise me!" [Y/n] countered. "Hosea was more of a father than you. To you, money has always been more important. You always had a plan to get more, and more, and more. I'd be in Tahiti if I had a dollar for every plan of yours that didn't work out."

"I gave you everything I could!"

"You gave me everything?" She had to stop herself from scoffing. "I spent my whole life trying to make you happy for once. Trying to make you proud of me. I gave my heart and my soul for this gang, and you ruined it all when you took in this rat!" Her voice started to crack, but she forced tears away. She reached for her other gun and pointed it at Micah.

Dutch asked, "You really think Micah is the reason you're turning on me?" His tone was strangely calm, too calm. "You think I never noticed the way you and Arthur were plotting something behind my back? But, of course, he didn't sneak into your tent at night just to plot. You disgust me, [Y/n]."

[Y/n]'s mouth fell slightly open as she attempted to form a sentence, and yet she wasn't able to. How did he find out? She thought her and Arthur had been sneaky enough.

"You lost your mind, Dutch," Arthur spoke up, "we were worried about you."

Dutch turned his eyes to Arthur, his anger growing at the man's comment. "I'm the one who gave all of you a home! A purpose! A damn family! And you had the nerve to get with my daughter behind my back, and turn her against me."

"All these years, Dutch..." Arthur shook his head. "Just to waste it for this snake?"

"Be quiet, Black Lung." Micah said, his gun pointed at Arthur.

"No," miss Grimshaw appeared with her rifle pointed at Micah, "you be quiet, mister Bell. And put that gun down."

It escalated in a moment. Micah pulled the trigger, sending a bullet towards miss Grimshaw. He took the last remaining mother figure [Y/n] had. Miss Grimshaw was a cold woman, but she cared for her, she cared for all the girls. And now she was dead.

But there was no time to dwell on that.

"Pinkertons are coming!" Javier ran up to the group, warning them.

"Now," Dutch spoke way too calmly for [Y/n]'s liking, "who amongst you is with me, and who is betraying me?"

"Bill, Javier, think for yourselves." Arthur spoke, but they didn't listen.

The both of them were too blinded by the doomed loyalty to Dutch. They sided with him, while Arthur was left with just [Y/n] and John. Besides them, there was also Micah and his own friends he had brought to the gang recently. They were outnumbered.

"My own flesh and blood has turned against me." Dutch concluded in a cold voice [Y/n] hadn't heard before. He had never been a good father, but now... his transformation was complete. The man who had once been a leader, had been replaced by a ghost of himself, driven by greed and paranoia

"You brought it upon yourself." [Y/n] spat.

Micah sneered, "And here I was thinking blood runs thicker than water. Seems a good fuck can change a lady's mind so easily. Wouldn't suspect that of cowpoke, but seems this day is full of surprises."

[Y/n] winced at Micah's remark. She wanted nothing more than to shoot him then and there.

And she tried to. But her hands were trembling with anger, and she missed.

"Put your guns down!" An unknown voice yelled out.

The pinkertons. They ran into the camp, or whatever was left of it, and started shooting. The Pinkertons had arrived, their shouts and gunfire piercing through the madness. The world started to crash down. [Y/n], Arthur, and John found places to use as a cover. The girl didn't even care what would happen with her father now. She had to focus on the pinkertons.

After a few minutes, when the trio knew they won't get out of it this way, John called out, "[Y/n], Arthur, into the caves!"

They didn't think twice before running inside the cave, following the gloomy and scary passages. The pinkertons ran after them and [Y/n] hoped John was leading them to some second entrance. They couldn't afford hitting a dead end.

"Micah was a rat, Milton told me." Arthur confessed as they kept running.

"We should've let him rot in that jail in Strawberry." [Y/n] thought out loud.

There was a ladder, leading them upwards. And another one, and a third one. As the surroundings started to become lighter with the outside's air, [Y/n] thought they might be getting out of that cave before the pinkertons get them.

"John," Arthur turned to his friend when the trio reached fresh air finally, "Abigail is safe, Jack too. They're with Sadie." Then he turned to [Y/n], and tried to stop a cough before speaking to her, "You, [Y/n], I want you to go and–"

"Go where?" The girl interrupted him. "Go and do what?"

"We have to separate here. John and I will go this way, you'll go join Sadie."

In the meantime, John called for their horses. Except that [Y/n]'s didn't come, which could only mean one thing.

"They killed her..." [Y/n] mused, and for a moment she couldn't fight the urge to cry. A few tears had escaped. "Now I have to go with you."

But, again, there was no more time to think. They mounted their horses, Arthur insisting [Y/n] rides with John in case they had to go separate ways. She didn't mount John's horse, she sat on the back of Arthur's. She knew that he knew there was no time to argue.

And they ran again. Ran, followed by the bullets shot by Dutch, Micah, Bill, Javier, and those men Micah brought to the gang. Dutch van der Linde was many things, and he never played the role of the father well, but even now [Y/n] was shocked to see him chasing after them, not afraid of the risk to shoot his own daughter.

When they escaped them, they kept running into the pinkertons. They seemed to be everywhere, as if they knew their next moves.

The trio tried to escape running up a mountain, but they were stopped. [Y/n] saw John falling off his horse, and no sooner the same happened to herself and Arthur.

"Buell!" The girl called out, seeing the animal lying on the ground with a bullet wound. "These motherf–"

They had to shoot now. There was no way out if they didn't kill all those pinkertons. And, fueled by the rage, [Y/n] felt as if she could shoot them all by herself. Hell, she would gladly choke all of them with her bare hands if she got the chance.

"Come on!" John called out after they have dealt with pinkertons. He knew this wouldn't last long.

[Y/n] ran up to Arthur, who was kneeling next to Buell, gently petting the horse's mane. The girl didn't even get to be with her mare when she got killed, so she had to be at least with Buell.

"Let's go!" John repeated.

"Give us a moment!" Arthur shouted back.

[Y/n] touched the horse gently and Arthur leaned over his head. This was such a heartbreaking thing to witness. Arthur received this horse from a man who had lost his leg in the war. Found him randomly in the woods, when the horse bucked him off and his leg got stuck in a stirrup. Arthur helped him and became friends, visiting from time to time. They went hunting once, and the veteran got attacked by a giant boar. With his last breath, he asked Arthur to take care of Buell. And Arthur did, until the horse's last breath, too.

With one last final, "Thank you," that Arthur whispered to Buell, they were ready to run further.

"Let's go." John said for the third time.

Arthur asked, "What about the money?"

"Money?" [Y/n] sobbed, wiping away a few last tears. "What about Micah? We have to get rid of him."

"I go down there, I'm dead in five minutes," John stated, "I have a family, that's more important."

"You're right," Arthur admitted, thinking John must be making sense for the first time in his life, "[Y/n], you go with John. I'm going back for the money."

"No, you're not." The girl protested firmly. She wasn't losing Arthur, not like that. "We go together or we don't go at all."

Arthur knew it was pointless to argue with [Y/n]. If she inherited anything from Dutch, it was the subborness.

Arthur also knew that he didn't have much longer left. He was actively dying from tuberculosis that he hasn't even told [Y/n] about yet. If soon he was going to take his last breath, he wanted [Y/n] to go, not see him like this. He had always been a tough man, he couldn't let the girl he loved more than anything in the world see him die beaten by a stupid illness. "Fine, let's go." He muttered and the trio started once again running. He had no idea how to get out of this. There was no way out for him, but he still could help [Y/n] and John.

They needed to find a higher ground, running up a mointain. It was very steep, they had to be careful. At least they knew they were safe from the bullets, for now. The pinkertons would come back to the cave, as Micah most likely told them about the money hidden inside.

"Keep, pushing, Arthur!" John said.

Arthur stopped running. He stood bent slightly, propping his arms on his knees. It seemed to [Y/n] like he has difficulty to take a breath. An expression of worry grew on her face. She knew he had some kind of sickness, but she didn't realize how serious it was until this moment.

"Arthur, let's go, we've made it so far." She said, the tears threatening to appear in her eyes once again.

"I think I've pushed all I can." Arthur admitted, coughing out some blood. He straightened his posture, being able to breathe a bit better momentarily.

John walked up to him, "We ain't got time for this."

"We ain't all gonna make it."

His words hit [Y/n] worse than any bullets. She ran up to Arthur, grabbing his arm, trying to make him step forward.

"Don't talk nonsense," she tried to pull him, but even in this state he was still stronger than her, "Arthur, I'm not going anywhere without you."

"You both go." Arthur insisted. "I'll hold them off. There ain't no more time to talk." With these words, he reached for his sachel and handed it over to John. Then, he took his hat off and placed it on [Y/n]'s head.

She knew what that mean. She knew Arthur was prepared to die. But she couldn't let him. She couldn't imagine a life without him. He truly was the love of her life, how was she supposed to keep going if he died on that mountain?

Arthur turned to [Y/n], his eyes softening as he took her face in his hands. "You need to keep going, no matter what happens. You understand?"

[Y/n] shook her head, tears welling up again. "Don't talk like that, Arthur. We're getting out of this. All three of us."

But Arthur knew better. He could feel the life slipping away from him with every breath, every step. "I need you to promise me something, [Y/n]."

"No, Arthur, no." She closed her eyes, hoping this would at least stop the tears.

"Look at me," Arthur said, gently placing his thumb on her chin and tilting her head up, "look at me, doll."

She slowly did as she was told, opening her eyes to meet his. Her heart was racing, knowing that these might be the last moments they have together. His gaze was full of love, as if in these seconds he wanted to love her for all the time he won't be able to in the future.

"You've been the light in my life, the good in me." Arthur told her.

"You've been my everything." She whispered, the lump in her throat making it difficult to speak.

"You get out of here with John. When I'm gone, you'll find a good man, one that'll give you the life you deserve. You're young, you can start a family, forget about me. I don't know what I did to deserve your love, but it's the time you bless someone worthy with it."

[Y/n] shook her head, her hands gripping Arthur's coat as if she could somehow anchor him to this world, keep him from fading away. "I'll never forget you. You're the love of my life."

"You deserve so much more than this life, [Y/n]. More than what I could ever give you. But you can still have it. You can still have everything you want, a future, a family, happiness."

But [Y/n] was stubborn, as always. "There's no future if you're not in it."

For a moment, Arthur looked as though he might break, as though he might give in to the desire to stay with her, to fight for a few more moments together. She tried to kiss him, and it took all the strenght his ill body had to stop her.

"I love you, [Y/n]," sounded his final words, "I love you more than anything in this world. But you have to go. For me. I'll love you till my last breath."

"And I'll love you until mine," that was the only thing she could promise him, "I'll never forget you."

The sound of gunshots echoed nearby, and the trio knew there was no more time. [Y/n] would trade anything to have a few more minutes with Arthur. She would walk down to Hell to speak to the Devil himself if he could grant her a bit more time.

John grabbed [Y/n], as much as it pained him, he had to drag her away. They had to run. That's what Arthur wanted.

As she was being dragged away, [Y/n] watched Arthur climb, trying to reach an even higher spot of the mountain.

"Arthur is doing this so you can live. Don't let it be for nothing." John said.

[Y/n] didn't reply. They had to make an escape, and they did so in silence, but the girl didn't even feel her own legs, she just trusted they were there. There was no life for her if Arthur died. This life had been all she knew. How she was supposed to live without the gang, and without him?

"John." She said firmly, somehow finding the strenght in herself to not cry anymore. "I'm going back there."

[Y/n] had been hit by the realization that she doesn't have anything to lose. Everything she had, she already either sacrificed or lost. Her mother, the gang, her father, her horse, and now Arthur, her Arthur.

John stopped dead in his tracks, turning around to face [Y/n]. "No, you ain't."

"I ain't got nothing to lose. Either I'll be dragging his dead body to the pearly gates and bribing the God to revive him, or I'll die there with him."

John looked into her eyes just to see fire in them. He understood her love for Arthur and her desperation to save him, and maybe he would have even done the same for Abigail. Except it was plain stupid to do such thing for a man, who was already dying.

"Damn it," John muttered, knowing he can't stop her, "you're as brave as you're stupid. The both of you."

[Y/n] took off Arthur's hat that he had given her, and passed it to John. "You're the best brother I could've had. When I die, I'll look up at you and expect to see you treating Jack and Abigail well. No more running away."

"You mean look down." He corrected her.

"Oh, I'm definitely going to Hell. And I'll be waiting for you, just wait at least fifty years." She chuckled and pulled John in for a quick hug. When they pulled away, she could see tears in his eyes. But [Y/n] wasn't going to cry, not anymore.

She had no reason to cry now. Her time was over. If Arthur was going to die, she was dying there with him, and she was ready for this. More ready than for a future without him.

"Take care of your family," [Y/n]'s last words for John sounded, "make sure they get the life they deserve. Make sure you get that life, too." And with that, she turned away and walked back to where Arthur was supposed to be.

John nodded, his throat too tight to speak. He knew he would carry this moment with him for the rest of his life. The night he had lost the two people who were like siblings to him. He had lost much more, but it didn't matter.

[Y/n] had nothing left to lose, nothing left to live for but this one last act of love. If she could save Arthur, it would be worth it. And if she couldn't... then at least they would die together, side by side, as they should have lived.

There were no more gunshots to follow, not a sound of any fight. [Y/n] climed up the rocks, finding the path where she had last seen Arthur. She saw someone walking her way, not someone who she yearned to see.

"You goddamn rat!" [Y/n] yelled as she grabbed Micah by his coat. She didn't know where she found this strenght in her body, but she managed to throw him such a powerful punch in the face that he had to take a few steps back, almost falling off a cliff.

"You just won't give up, will you?" He said, his usual malice still audible in his voice.

"Did you kill him?" She asked, pointing her gun at him.

"He's alive. Not for much longer though."

[Y/n] clenched her jaw, her grip on the gun tightening so hard her knuckles went white. She felt her anger building up inside her, threatening to explode at any moment. "I should've put a bullet in your head a long time ago."

"Come on, do it now then," he laughed, the sound getting into [Y/n]'s head as she contemplated the decision, "we both know you're too soft to do it. How can such a failure be Dutch's daughter? I bet your mama wasn't the most loyal to your daddy."

That was it, her breaking point. [Y/n] knew putting a bullet in Micah wouldn't fix what was already broken, but at least she could stop any further damage he would cause if he stayed alive.

[Y/n] pulled the trigger, aiming for Micah's head, right between his eyes. His body fell down the cliff, and [Y/n] watched that happen. She felt absolutely nothing. No remose. But also no ease. Not until she could see Arthur.

She ran towards where Micah came from. She found Arthur lying down, his upper body propped on a rock. His face was turned towards the east, looking at the sunrise, even though he had always loved the sunset.

"Arthur..." She said.

His eyes searched for the source of the sound, Arthur thought he was having hallucinations. He forced a smile on his beaten face when he saw her.

"You damn fool, [Y/n]." He said in a weak, raspy voice. Not the kind of rasp [Y/n] loved to hear in the mornings, but the one that emphasized Arthur's condition. "I told you to go with John."

"I couldn't leave you, Arthur." She said, losing all her power to not cry. She knelt down beside him, looking at his injuries. His face was full of little cuts and bruises, some blood. But he didn't seem to have gotten shot.

Tears shone in her eyes. And she must have been the most beautiful thing Arthur had ever laid his eyes on. The way the orange morning sunrays touched her face made Arthur feel butterflies in his stomach. It was way nicer to die when he had this sight in front of him. But it wasn't fair to her.

"Doll," he breathed out, "I'm dying."

"No, you're going to be fine." She stuttered, the pain in her voice betraying how delusional she was being. She couldn't accept the reality of the situation. She refused to believe that the man she loved more than anything was slipping away from her.

She took his hands in hers. His touch used to be so hot it could put the Devil to shame. But now his hands were colder than the coldest night in Colter.

"I've got tuberculosis." Arthur confessed to her finally.

"What?" A puzzled expression appeared on her face. "Since when?"

"Since I killed Thomas Downes."

[Y/n]'s heart dropped. She had heard rumors about the sickness, the way it slowly drained the life out of a person, but she never imagined that Arthur, her Arthur, had been battling it all this time. It explained so much, the coughing fits, the way he had grown weaker, more distant. And yet, he had never told her, never let on just how bad it was.

"I deserved to know." She replied, her voice cracking. "I could've helped you."

"I didn't want to worry you, doll. Didn't want you to see me like this. You deserved better than that."

"I loved you, I still do, and I would've stayed by your side no matter what. You should've told me. We could–" She choked on her words, realizing there was nothing they could've done to stop it.

A small, sad smile tugged at the corner of Arthur's lips. "You've always been too good for me, [Y/n]. I ain't ever deserved you, not really."

"Don't say that, Arthur. You deserve everything. And now you're dying here. Alone."

"I ain't alone." Arthur murmured, his voice growing weaker with every word. "You're here, right? That's all I ever needed."

She nodded, her heart breaking as she watched him struggle to keep his eyes open. The sunrise was casting a warm glow over his face, and for a moment, [Y/n] could almost pretend that they were somewhere else, somewhere safe, where they could live the life however they wanted to. Away from all the bullshit they had to go through.

But reality was cold and its walls were closing in on them. She could feel Arthur slipping away, his fingers holding onto hers weaker with each passing moment. She wanted to scream, to beg for more time, but it would be in vain.

Arthur stopped fighting the urge to close his eyes. "Promise me, doll... you'll find a way to live... without me." He could barely speak anymore, yet he managed to utter these words.

"I love you, Arthur." [Y/n] said instead, because she didn't want to make a promise she couldn't keep.

His grip on her hands loosened, and his chest rose and fell one last time. [Y/n] leaned in, pressing a kiss to his forehead. She held him close, cradling his head in her arms as they were bathed in the warmth of the sunrise. She stayed like that, long after he was gone, her tears mixing with the blood and dirt on his skin. Arthur was gone, and with him, a part of her died too. She had nothing left to lose, nothing left to fight for, except the memory of the man she loved.

[anotherblas]

i need a fight between annabel and ada

That's something I can't get out of my head. i thought i was getting it in episode 71 but it didn’t happen with the outcome i was expecting!! but maybe season 2 can make my wish come true. I just need to put my thoughts out. i don’t read fastpass episodes so if i’m completely missing the nail just ignore me

Through multiple episodes we see that ada cares A LOT about her looks (from wanting to impress prospero, her breakdown when annabel confronts her when she first manifested, her relationship with Montresor and most recently her flashback with Thomas Tamerlane where he basically sees her only for her body) 

Ada's self-worth is deeply rooted in her physical appearance. Her being seen as an attractive, pretty lady with class is what she thinks is her only way of existing and getting loved. She doesn't think she's smart, assuming from her social status and the time she lived in (probably 1930's) she probably didn't get a lot of education.

So she only has her looks, but what would happen if she’s stripped away from that? she’s going to confront the stag while manifesting and from what we were told that’s like the worst idea ever. I honestly don’t see her dying (i feel like that would be such a waste of character) but she could get severely injured, like ending up with some scars in the best case scenario and losing some limb or facial feature in the worst one. That could be the beginning of her breaking point, losing her “only worth” or atleast the key to getting what she wants… while Annabel ends up without a scratch.

I feel that her relationship with Annabel will change after this whole stag arc. I can even picture the outburst even if nothing bad happens to Ada.

Let's suppose the night passes, everyone makes it out alive and Ada reunites with Annabel. i can totally see Ada wanting validation and gratitude from Annabel, getting recognized as the loyal best friend she thinks she is. But Annabel doesn’t see her that way and never will. To her, Ada is just another piece in her plan, as a matter of fact she’s probably a bit annoyed that Ada interrupted her encounter with the stag after seeing that it wasn’t a threat to her. She will not thank her, or at least not in the important, dramatic way Ada wants her to. 

I want them to fight, and not only because i love drama. To me the only way Ada will grow as a character is if she’s alone. A fight with Annabel will immediately put her in risk in the group. Prospero doesn’t like her for obvious reasons and is starting to consider Annabel a friend so he’ll side with her, Will can’t tolerate her so he would want her out but he’ll side with whatever Montresor wants. Montresor wants Ada for the same reasons as Annabel, he sees her as a piece in his plans, someone he can manipulate. But between her or Annabel, he’ll most likely choose the one who has blackmail on him.

Ada being on her own could be the beginning of her valuing herself, starts to accept the way she is, stops pretending and just realizes how much power she holds. At least for now she’s probably one of the students with the most threatening spectre and after her fight with the stag i wouldn’t be surprised if she starts to believe it. I can’t see her joining the misfits just now because it would be (in my opinion) kinda weird that they would accept her after everything that happened with Duke. I honestly don’t even care for her redemption arc. If her growth as a character means that she’ll become an antagonist to Lenore, Annabel and everyone else I'll take it without thinking twice.

Ada with confidence in her powers, in herself, could be a real menace. After all, what’s the point of being in a group if there’s only one life at stake?