#sabrina spoilers

[yandere-wishes]

⋆.˚ 𝔻𝕒𝕣𝕜 𝕍𝕒𝕔𝕒𝕪 ⋆.˚

𐙚Yandere! Qimir X Reader

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ He steals you in summer. Castaway on a planet with no name. But the way his eyes shine under the hot sun has your heart beating out of your chest.

⁀➷ Does this count as "That's that me, espresso"?

🪐 Yandere behavior, obsessive tendencies, Stockholm syndrome, blood, and gore.

⁺₊𝄞₊⁺ Espresso by Sabrina Carpender

Dark Vacay by CAS

The heat licks at your neck dangerously. The scathing red glow cleaves through flesh, through bone.

Warm, warm, warm.

The sort of swelter befitting rampant volcanos and rebirthing suns.  

The man, no, the Sith has you pinned to his chest. His force,a dark pulsating thing, coiling through your body, keeping you rooted.

Sol's voice echoes through the canopy. Sending ripples through the blood-matted forest floor. "Release her." His saber is drawn, pointed.

Blue vs red.

Hot vs cold.

"Give me the relic." The voice lacks emotion, empathy. It demands, it takes. There is no room for formalities here, no chivalry you've long believed in. This monster deals only in dark. Taking and taking. "And I won't hurt her".

You try to push him away, to fight. Your force against his, clawing at the dark ether around you, hunting for an aperture, a splinter anything to infiltrate. But he is resilient, strong the way most volcanos are.

Impenetrable.

You moan against the tightening noose. He demands and you must obey. Such a dark thing can even make your master bow, make him give up the ancient blood-red relic. "You have your relic, now release my pupil." Behind you the monster chuckles, an airy noise overflowing with malice, "I said I wouldn't hurt her, not that I'd give her back."

The lights dull. Neon fading into a fuzzy mess of colors too tangled to decipher. Voices weave bending to the blaring buzz echoing from within. The world grows darker, you try to clutch onto something, anything. The cool colors of saber light, the soothing tone of your master's voice. The monster's dark cadence. But it's no use, the darkness prevails, pulling you under its crushing waves, burying you in a sea of nihil.

The world is dim upon resurgence. The air tastes of salt, fresh and dry upon the throat. The earth you lay in is warm, not like the smoldering heat of a bloodborne saber, but the warmth you imagine a mother's embrace to hold. Soft in every way that counts.

The place is alien and abandoned. No family, no monsters. Just rock upon rock and makeshift furniture to further the illusion of a makeshift home. The pounding upon your temples has yet to cease, you wonder if the outlines of a bruise have yet to bloom.

Slowly, you emerge from the cocoon of worn blankets. Bare feet scraping across the jagged floor. You feel the monster's presence linger, his essence strong within this place. You remember the dragon dens you used to read about in fairy tales. The gold-adorned caves where little princesses were forced to dwell.

It's funny you should feel like one now.

There are clothes sprawled across the floor. Vanilla ice cream in shade and shape, they feel too pure to have been chosen by a man like him. Too pure to have been tainted by the darkness of his fingertips. It's only now that the dress glares back that you notice your bareness, Jedi robes stripped and discarded.

That fiend...

You feel skinned, alone. No saber to grasp, no golden drapes. Nothing to paint you as Jedi. It's with reluctance that you lace yourself into the sweet dress, with utter reluctance that you step out onto the beach of rocks awaiting outside.

You spot the man,

the sith.

Qimir

His name reverberates within your head. You lick each letter, rolling them across your tongue and drinking in their condensation. "Qi-mi-rr" the name shouldn't taste of exotic fruits blended and bled. It shouldn't taste like fruit cocktails and coconut cubes but it does.

It does and it's disgustingly delicious.

He walks with the steady strout of a man who knows he is the most dangerous thing on this beach, on this island, on this entire planet. A volcano among mountains.

You follow behind bare feet on smooth rocks. Fumbling across the beach.

Chasing shadows. Chasing monsters.

He sheds his robes like skin, peeling away sabbath vestments to reveal cutis. Tanned and scarred, marred flesh risen like volcano veins cascading across his spine.

You shouldn't admit how desperately your fingers ache to trace the tragic thing. You glid your nails across the notched igneous rocks. Dreaming its soft flesh, his soft flesh beneath your touch. He would shutter under your fingertips as you pull apart his secrets. Nibbling on them like picnic cookies.

He's stripped bare, soft skin caught in the dim sun. His open wounds glisten under soft gold rays. You skate away from the sight, that forbidden sun-drenched sight. Eyes averted and hidden behind the rocks, twice locked, to avoid a rogue glance.

He is nothing if not haunting, forbidden in every way.

Odd how the memory of his bare ankles is what lingers. Carved too steep and too deep in a way that looks too marble. They merge into long robust legs. You can't help but imagine the sculpture of his thighs after, the thing at the end of those perplexing ankles. They too must be strong, carved to define each muscle. You imagine being trapped between them, their forceful push against your meaker body as his ankles intertwine with yours.

"You can open your eyes now."

You taste his darkness in your mouth again. Potent tropical fruits laced with sea salt. He couldn't have known you were trailing after him, you'd been quiet, silent like a whisper.

"It's improper to strip out in the open. What would you have done if someone should have come upon you?"

He treads in the water like a pearl unearthed. Shimmering alongside the blue-green of the lagoon. "You came upon me and nothing happened."

"That's because I had the good graces to avert my gaze from such a sight."

"I'd prefer if you'd look."

He pours water over his face, sparkly droplets cascading down sharp cheekbones. Eyes wide with an odd groggy wonder. The sky and the sea and him ethereally in between. He shouldn't look so magical. Some water nymph playing spike ball with the sun. Drinking in the clouds and blue. Before diving back down into his aquatic galaxy.

"Join me"

"I'd rather impale myself"  

he's treading closer, water shielding his body like liquid lapis lazuli. "I wonder what your lips will taste like blue?" and it's the first time you've ever thought of your order's regalia as something so macabre.

His eyes are half-lidded, licking over your body like a melting Sunday. Or maybe he actually is, you can feel something wet and sinister sliding across your body. Slipping over and under the dress, sucking at pulse points. Anticipating soft vanilla.

You want to rip out his tongue and harbor in your mouth. You want to devour him as if he were ice cream on a summer day. Butterscotch cone with drizzled caramel and star sprinkles. Your teeth ache desperately for just one small bite.

He's standing, growing into a full man, no longer just a boy nymph memorized by soft whites and bright blues. The water droplet clutch greedy to taut muscles, refusing to leave such a Promethean thing.

The wet thing freezes. Running water to ice cube. His force evaporates from you, you bask in the mist of him. Before the shadow roots behind you impenetrable all over again. Qimir steps closer and you close your eyes on instinct. Stepping back, following the flow of sand in breeze.

Such sights are not for us to love.

It tips you off balance, You can't see Qimir but you can feel him. He's closer and closer. That's why you're stalking back. But the plasmic thing behind you nicks your ankle. Lurching you back. In the blink of an eye and the start of a scream, you're suspended in mid-air. Floating above the sands, save in the gossamer of his black mist.

"Careful" Qimir jests

And you crack your eye open just enough to see his outstretched hand.

"I want to take a shower"

"The lagoone is over there" he throws over his shoulder all so causally. like spelling out sea cemetary.

the warmth of the cave is suffocating. Lacing through your body making it breakout into little pearls of hidrosis. You roll over, watching Qimir, solder the cracks of his helmet. The rampant sparks cast him in a galactic white halo. Some intangible creature from the far reaches of the universe.

You wonder back to the incident by the lagoon.

You wonder if his tongue, his real tongue, would feel cool against your flaring skin. Muscle-bound ice cube rolling across your arms, your chest, drinking in your essence in half kisses and open-lipped moans. Sucking tenderly on the veins of your neck.

But shouldn't the tongues of monsters be spiked? cutting deep in search of blood?

Qimir swats the sweat from his temples. Pulling up the back of his shirt in an effort to fight the humidity. His scars transcend so low. Rivers weaving through him, overflowing with treasured secrets. You suck in the force through your lips drinking in its cold confidence. Marching up to stand behind him, only half admiring the rugged skin below the sandy shirt.

"Ahem" Spine straight, head held high. Your stance is practiced, sculpted in the confidence that the order demands. Lightside in every way.

Jedi, Jedi, Jedi

"I know it is futile to ask a treasonous sith like you to abide by the laws of common decency. But I'd ask that you do not come to spy on me while I bathe" Your hands ball into firsts. Glaring death and shark teeth at his blemished back.

He leaves the workbench with all the grace of a crushing tide. Elegance carved from salt rocks and years of walking through stars and shadows. But this time you refuse to step back. There is no dishabille to fear, no sand lines that may be passed.

But he doesn't confront you. He doesn't bask in his rage and stands proudly in front of you. No, instead he paces, or rather almost floats. He's in front of you one minute and behind you the next. The eerieness of it all only comes from the feeling of entombment. He is your cage, your coffin. Burying you under the sand with his precious secrets and red relics. Your nerve beats out of you in little droplets.

Qimir's fingers lace with your own, his hot breath fans the shell of your ear, "How can I make such promises when you act so cute" his voice is coconut shavings upon white sand. You aren't even sure he spoke. " I thought Sith only dealt in absolutes?" his laughter cuts like fractured seashells. Cutting through heartstrings. You want to hear it again and again until you've memorized its melody. "That's what we want the Jedi to believe."

His teeth graze the nape of your neck. That's the last straw, gravity crushes your nerve, and you take off running.

The pearls that shine within his sockets are entirely too dark. You shouldn't be thinking such this as you disrode. But the glimmer of pure drown isn't a worldly sight, it's something unplaceable.

Sith can not be trusted, even if, until mere days ago they had been things of fairytales like dragons and sea monsters. Mystical monsters used to frighten little padwans into finishing their plates. But the stories are true now, they've ripped open the holobooks and sprouted from the screen. Your fingers flex, feeling the weight of his hand in yours.

The monsters are real...

You keep your undergarments on as you descend with the sparkling tides. Qimir may appear at any moment. And you wish to confront a Sith in a Jedi's skin, or what little is left of it.

You're sinking into the watermelon greens and crystal blues, sinking into him... because even so far from the grotto his presence haunts your thoughts still.

"You wouldn't mind if I invite myself in?" The water laps at his feet, he's standing over the liquid threshold.

"What are you doing here?! I told you not to come."

he shrugs and you can't help but notice the definition of his muscles. "It's hot in the cave. Plus you don't own the beach."

He pulls the shirt over his head.

You scream for him to stop.

But this time as he pulls the waistband down you notice something underneath.

Swim trunks.

Bell-bottomed and shaped like a nebula, but only midnight in hue. The cuffs glimmer with red intricacies, patterns from a different time, a different solar system. Each stitch tells some tale of horror or history. Sith things that you'd rather not know. But why engrave them into a swimsuit? Why paint a tapestry on something so jejune?

He treads through the water, deadset on you. And again in every step, you notice a mettle valor that can only come from having killed and kissed your greatest fears.

The rocks are slippery beneath your feet, running, swimming, gliding whatever gets you further from him. But the rocks form barricades of their own. Igneous confines housing prey and beast.

"I meant it when I said you were cute." He has you pinned to the mineral mountains, eyes prying you open, studying your inner workings like a gutted bot. "So fragile so malleable..." You feel his power rolled over your neck.

You didn't expect the kiss. The taste of coconut shavings and caramel. Your heart hammers as he tugs on your hips, pulling you closer. Your lungs burn, filled with salt water and dark force energy.

But suffocating is a small price to pay when he parts your lips and pushes iced star fruits in your mouth.

That night Qimir had tried to feed you soup. Boiled fish and herbs in a cauldron that looks, entirely witch. But the refusal comes not from the perturbation of poison or the primal mistrust shared between star-crossed enemies.

No the refusal comes because you simply do not like fish.

"Just try a spoonful, it's from a rare breed. Considered a luxury on most planets". His entreaties fall on deaf ears, outvoiced by the stubbornness of a crashing tide. You retire hungry, and maybe it's hunger that stirs you in the dead of night.

Or maybe it's the heartbeat echoing from his mask.

He called it cortosis. But it looks more terror than diamond.

You sink to your knees in front of the haunted heirloom, cradling it gently within your palms. The iron flavor upon lips makes you part them, tongue fleshed tracing every welded scar. Sucking in the solder and crystal and every other poison.

You want to be a part of it, to pry open your ribcage and shove the empyrean taj within.

Let its darkness mingle with your blood. You want to feel it's royalty in the marrow of your bones.

In the morning you do not speak about the pulsating thing within. But the mask stares at you as you eat mint and bread from Qimir's hand.

It knows...

It knows things you can never admit.

You'd been planning on narrowly avoiding him. Tiptoeing across the cave to evade stirring him. But the plans die when first light breeches the aperture.

Qimir's gone.

And in his place, he's left yet another raiment.

The dress is summer and doll. Bowed in the back and studded.

Bar'biee in every way.

The hysterically placed designs parody the crisscross of twilight roses and all their thrones. Checkered in shades of obsidian and ink.

But the black of your dress doesn't quite match the ebony of his robes.

It simply plays testament to your ripeness. You're starting to feel like his little doll.

He lies on a beach towel overlooking the sea. So ordinary it makes you choke. Beach ball in the corner by his feet, waiting to be played with.

Fearless.

You wonder just who he had to kill to reach this hubris?

You float down the little exclaves toes barely touching the ground.

He's adorned the rocky beach with a comically large parasol too dark to even have a name. Another towel, a picnic basket, and little coconut cups with straws. Despite his black tainted sunglasses, he knows you're watching him. Caught in the bosom of this haunted shore. Awaiting your capturer's orders.

"You can sit if you want." again he's saying words without realizing how crushing they truly are. Their full weight pulling your bones until they slip from skin.

Might as well have said shark attack and death at sea.

But you obey because despite everything, the towel looks nice and so does the drink.

"The sun doesn't come out very often. But I figured we could at least enjoy it today."

"Thanks," you mutter chewing on the pink straw. You shift your limbs rigidly. Plastic doll coming to life. Pushing tense bones straight as you rest your uneasy head. The waves hum in your ear and you swear you hear the rocks buzze like star songs.

"Why did you bring me here? Why not kill me."

"Well, you're not really any use to me dead" He offers you a melon slice.

"So I'm bait." Qimir sighs, your query exhausting. He simply sips from his own drink. You notice the jounce of his throat with each gulp. How you'd love to ring to those bones, feel them crack between your fingers.

He turns to you, lips a breath away. He hasn't kissed you since that day in the lagoon. But you wish him too so very much.

This isn't the Jedi way...

What?

Qimir's fingers trace over your thighs and hips. Finally, they land heavily on your shoulders, pushing you into the rocks with zeal. He blocks the sun and you can't help but think he's lovelier than any red goliath in the macrocosm.

Qimir's teeth gnaw at your throat, kissing the blood and smearing it with his tongue. Traling open-mouth kisses to the plinth of your neck.

Your nails, rasp curiously at his back, tracing scars, tracing cortosis veins.

His fingers dig into your ribs, painting it in seastars. Kissing starlights and pearls in your bones. His body is hot, scolding. And you wonder if the minerals he surrounds himself with were all nursed in the womb of a violent volcano.

The result of destructive habits is knife bites called kisses and a heart that's finally exploded.

When he pulls off, he poises himself on his knees before falling back to his side, searching for something in the basket. You stare, dress distorted, and breath hitched. You taste the exotic fruit blend again. Burning, caramel, and coconut that linger across your body.

"Hey, can you put this on me?" reality blurs back in, he's dangling a yellow bottle in front of you. "What" he shouldn't have this ease with you. He shouldn't be playing make-believe lovers on the beach with the girl he kidnapped.

But he does.

And you play along too.

"it's sunscreen, believe it or not, I burn easily."

"No"

"please"

"N-"

You don't control your hand as it pours the cream onto his chest. He touches you with such familiarity, the force on this planet is just an extension of him. But you shy away at the thought of running your fingers across his muscle bound chest. What is the force if not a child's toy? If not another doll.

He notices the shyness. Or rather reads it from the air. His force pokes at your arms, laughing at the discomfort. Before you know it he's harbored between your thighs. Large hands holding your wrist.

Firm yet delicate.

He moves your hand over his chest, charting every bump and muscle. Coating the blocker over his skin. It feels like piecing together armor. Preparing him for a battle you've never been invited to.

You don't want this.

Well not quite.

You want to feel his body jolt under your touch and hear the sweet little quips he offers to lighten the mood. You want to capture the fleeting moment where he bites his lip and preserve it for eternity.

But more than anything you want to peel away his armor, his flesh, and bury yourself beneath. Become another one of his secrets and staying inside him. Safe and warm forever.

"Qimir"

He makes pomegranate soup that night. As he nestles your body over his lap. Kissing the half-healed bruise on your forehead. He brings the spoon to your lips and gently nudges your mind to let him in. You part your lips, welcoming him in with the shyness you've been raised on. Blushing little bride-doll.

Legacy. You realize when the seeds erupt inside your mouth.

He's feeding you his secrets, his bequest. Boiling you like the fish and the fruit. And birthing you anew.

You sleep with your head buried in the crux of his neck. Listening to the lullaby of his tattered heart, singing psalms of conquest.

That night you dream of a river red. You blame it on Qimir, the pomegranate seeds were too maroon in color and flavor.

From the crimson water the helmet surfaces. Bobbing in the waves, beckoning you. You cup your hands inside the river, guzzling down the water and licking your fingers after. You let the red kiss your lips and fill your lungs choking you by essence alone. You want to die drinking from the bloodlust. Die in front of his helmet.

So maybe he can call it love.

Or Devotion.

Or anything else equally sweet.

The river doesn't taste like pomegranates, or fruit cocktails, or iced coconut.

It tastes of salty iron, volcanic diamonds and Qimir's lips.

You plunge into the red...

He's thinking about you again. You know it from the moment you awake. His voice is loud inside your head. Reverberating from wall to wall until it is the only thing you hear.

This time the garments are waterproof. Swimwear. Two pieces in black, just black. And adorned with red trees on the seams.

Right, because you beat me in the forest.

Clever.

He has left bangles too, jagged and bruised purple with veins of white. cortosis. Accompanied by a golden necklace that looks like a beating heart, ripped freshly from someone's chest.

"You look beautiful," he remarks after you've dressed in his colors. When did he come in? You need to get better at hearing the man born from shadows. The man who's walking between worlds unseen, unheard his entire life.

He pulls you close, nails picking at the soft flesh of your tummy. Scratching skin and leaving red crescents. He kneels and licks and bites, claiming this new chart of unmarked skin.

This has always been about possession, domination, damnation. "Qimir" you moan and it feels so wrong and so right. Like saber to the heart.

Oh force, how far you've fallen.

Qimir laces his fingers with yours pulling you outside the cave. The sun shimmers off his lopsided smile and he really does glow brighter than every star in the known cosmos.

The lagoon is red.

It shouldn't be red.

"You killed them" Since when have such dire words spilled so easily from your lips? Sol, Jacki, Yord. Are they in this pool? shimmering translucent awaiting a vengeance you do not think you can deliver?

"Yes...But not your Jedi, not yet. These were just some self-pious knights who got in my way."

He brings his arm up showing you a fresh saber cut, before pulling you into the water. It's so warm boiling, lava meets water. You think your skin will peel off.

But you stand your ground. Force directing your every breath. Spine straight head high. Darkside in every way

Sith, sith, sith

You grasp at his forearm, pulling it to your lips. Your tongue finds the slit in the skin and dives it. Mapping out the muscles and drinking in the red.

Exotic fruits bled and blended.

"I think I'm finally getting through to you," Qimir says, brown pearls glazed over with pride. "My sweet little acolyte."

You giggle at the term. It tastes so bitter, like a raw espresso before dawn.

"Oh, master" you moan. As you pull him under the red waters. Lips and legs entwined.

ᯓ♡ : @feedmestraycats @moonlovefairy  @wicked0clouds @phoenixes-and-wizards @peridedarling @morax-on-my-mind @magikmaik @lov4gor3 @manchuria @bucksdonkey @embersofimagination @hauntedhedgehogs @peter-laufeyson @papitas-con-sal @f0odie @boredtone @bluechissbrain @yourfilthydevil @n0t-skywalker @xsister-serpent @gabriqllas @zionysuss @i-love-my-babygirls @pagingoswin @jxp1ter @faebirdie @deezhutts565 @thesithdiaries @pagingoswin @hauntingwolf @scentedbanditlampwobbler @uwingdispatch @mask-knife-is-buggys-girl @lunarsvertigo @scintilla-morningstar @carpinchootaku @penny44224 @suburbanlegendzzzz @jihyos-wifey @reylo-imperium @ladyofyourdreams @sassybananaweaselpsychic @96jnie @@jxp1ter @sunnymoonxx @scintilla-morningstar @carpinchootaku @smutmaniac @alena1100 @marice23top @ohdearmaggie @strawberrycat69

[azertyrobaz]

How long have you been a sub?

[bananagreste]

'PRANK'

[the-butter-churner]

welcome back gideon nav

[kochengnoir]

Hey Queen, you dropped this 👑

[dannypinot]

Joy Ride (2023) dir. by Adele Lim

[angiecakes1990]

THANKYOU SABRINA LILA FINALLY GOT EXPOSED FOR THE LIAR SHE IS 

[lovereadandwrite]

your honor, did you consider that my client was in a silly goofy mood? that he’s liiiiterally bbg ??🥺👉👈

[bluedillylee]

previous seasons relationship summary

we’re really hitting the polyamorous vibes hard with my fav trio this season-love that for them

Image description below

[ID: Geralt and Jaskier are holding Yennefer’s hands as she explains their relationship. Vespula and Radovid are hanging off Jaskier. Sabrina, Phillipa and Trish’s heads are above Yennefer connected by sexual tension threads. Sabrina is connected to Marti, Phillipa is connected to her Redanian lover and Dijkstra and Triss is connected to Istredd. Istredd is connected to Yennefer as exes and to Geralt with sexual tension. Off to the left is Vilgefortz connected to Geralt with a fuck/kill thread.

Geralt is saying “Jaskier calls me the family goat❤️”

Yennefer is saying “OK so Geralt and I are in love and raising Ciri together. Jaskier is our babysitter and also my husband. Geralt and Jaskier are best friends and I have sexual tension with every sorceress I know. Vespula/Jaskier are ‘it’s complicated’ and Radovid/Jaskier have a fraught and possibly doomed romance going on.”

Vespula is saying “Hi spoon guy”

Jaskier is saying “don’t you dare bring up crushes!

Radovid is saying “haha I think I’m going to have a breakdown 👑” end ID]

[carthonasi]

[thegirl20]

Yennefer: just dropped out of a corrupted portal, on the floor, panting, bleeding, confused

Sabrina:

[inber]

i guess i just make dumb thanedd ball comics now

[witchesnet]

THE WITCHER ( 2019 -)

[brotherconstant]

THE WHITE LOTUS || 2.07 || Arrivederci

SABRINA IMPACCIATORE as VALENTINA BEATRICE GRANNÒ as MIA

“I know a lot of hot girls who are gay. A bunch of crazy clubs. Whenever you want, Lucia and I will take you.” “Oh. Alright.”

[pearlofthesea03]

AMC Interview With The Vampire 'Taste'-Sabrina Carpenter

[geekgirles]

Liar Revealed

So Marinette and Sabrina worked together to lure Lila into a false sense of security that eventually led up to her spilling everything in front of an audience she was unaware of. Now everyone knows she’s been lying about everything, she’s a horrible person, and she and Chloé are about to be expelled for good... After 7 years, the fandom finally got what it wanted.

...then why do I feel like I’ve actually wasted those 7 years of my life? 

Buckle up, ‘cause this is going to be a long ride.

As someone who’s been eagerly awaiting for Lila to be exposed since Volpina, a feeling that only grew with each passing episode she’s been featured in, I honestly find this development wholly underwhelming, highly disappointing, even. 

Maybe I’m too vindictive, who knows, but this in no way feels like proper comeuppance for a character who’s been maliciously manipulating everyone around her and relishing in other people’s misery since she was first introduced.

First and foremost, because having Lila accidentally reveal herself while gloating is too much of a cliché. I’ve seen people before mentioning how Lila exposing herself seemed to be the only way this could go, seeing as Marinette’s best attempts always seemed to fail. But if we ignore for a second this was actually set up by Marinette and Sabrina, with the way it’s handled it just feels like a kick in the gut, not the overwhelming catharsis I’m sure most of us were expecting. 

Because, and this is actually my main problem with the execution, by having Lila expose herself by spouting a self-satisfied tirade of every single lie she’s ever told and people have believed without question as she disparages Sabrina’s attempts to take her down, saying how she could easily turn everyone against her, the narrative is actually framing Lila in the right.

When we as the audience know it shouldn’t be like that. 

Lila only really upped her game in season 5 (and even then the writers still rely too much on the characters being dumbed down around her for it to work), up until then all her lies would have been easily discreditable if the writers didn’t need the class and everyone in Paris to believe her for her schemes to work!

From our perspective, Lila is nowhere near as formidable as she presents herself to be. Which, admittedly, goes in line with her consistent characterisation (about her only consistent trait aside from being hateful and a liar) that she believes and presents herself to be more special than she actually is. But the problem is no character other than Marinette, Adrien, and now Sabrina ever learnt of this fact! Maybe now that she’s exposed herself, but with the way she gloated about all her plans going off without a hitch...

Which leads us to another reason this was the worst possible execution of Lila being exposed they could have come up with:

It was a stroke of luck.

That’s it. That’s unquestionably what it was. Because hadn’t Sabrina finally grown a spine and drawn the line with the actions she was willing to commit for Chloé’s sake, Marinette would have had no way of knowing of Lila’s plan and preparing accordingly. 

Really, the only positive thing I can say about it is that it could maybe count as character development for Marinette since she finally learned she needed to be as sneaky as Lila if she wanted to take her down. And there’s of course the fact that Sabrina finally broke away from Chloé. Other than that? It’s a fairly sombre scenario, really. 

Because, again, Marinette didn’t manage to finally beat Lila because she had a strong support network (which would have painted a very symbolic and meaningful picture showcasing how, for all the superficial attention her lies can get her, in reality, Lila will always be alone as long as she doesn’t put in the genuine effort to reach out to others like Marinette does), but because she had outside help. Again, help she couldn’t have accounted for until Sabrina herself reached out to her. 

Relating to my previous point, Marinette never got Alya to even believe her about Lila or at the very least question how genuine she was until Lila spelled it out for her. Even though she’s known her best friend is Ladybug for months, which brings forth the question if letting Alya in on Marinette’s secret ended up being even worth it if the writers refuse to have her help her out where it matters (I’ll be sure to go back to this point in a minute, just you wait). 

What else? Oh, I know! How about the fact that, for a season that was supposed to be all about Adrienette winning, the writers purposely robbed us of that Adrienette vs Lila alliance we were promised back in Chameleon, huh? Because Adrien was completely left out of the plan. In fact, ever since Ladybug back in season 3, he hasn’t been allowed to do anything to help Marinette against Lila. As with the Ladynoir conflict in season 4, his relevance all but vanished even though he was a central part of the conflict from seasons 1-3. 

Even better! When he finally spoke up about Lila to Nino and Alya, arguably his best friends besides Ladybug, they completely brushed his concerns off as him just agreeing with Marinette out of boyfriend obligation! I didn’t know intangible things could slap me in the face, but boy was I wrong!

And the best part? This complete disregard of his feelings, lack of communication, and their assuming they know better than him (which disturbingly parallels to his own relationship with Gabriel...) is certainly never going to be explored, let alone resolved. 

What do I mean with all this?

Well, basically that for a show that’s supposed to promote the power of love, friendship, and teamwork, when it comes to Lila Marinette is all alone. Has been since Volpina. 

But at least that’s done with, Lila got her just desserts, and we’re never going to have to deal with her ever again...

SIGH

Except, not really. Not at all, in fact. 

Because just as she and Chloé were finally being reprimanded for their actions, Mr. Damocles had to choose that of all moments to realise he failed as a principal, attract an akuma, cause a racket, and provide Lila with the perfect distraction to just...walk away unscathed. 

And with the reveal that she actually has more identities, social circles, and opportunities to lie and manipulate to fall back to after being expelled from the Françoise-Dupont...Let’s just say it implies that while Marinette (and the audience) had to endure nothing short of psychological torture, Lila never really had anything to lose.

Now I ask you...how the Hell am I supposed to consider that a satisfying, cathartic resolution to that particular arc?!?!?!?

And if you permit me, there is one more thing I’d like to get off my chest. 

Alya’s reaction to this.

After learning the truth she rushes to hug Marinette and apologise, being a clear wreck about it. And while Marinette getting an apology once in a blue moon is always a welcomed thing, once again the writers aim and completely miss their shot. Because Alya apologises for being gullible. 

Look, back in seasons 1 and 2, Hell, even back in season 3, I could have overlooked this. Yes, she never listened to Marinette, could be a tad hypocritical, and the whole jealous thing got old and annoying fast, but at least she couldn’t know for certain Lila was bad news. But from season 4 onwards Alya no longer has such an excuse. No, from season 4 onwards Alya’s problem isn’t that she’s gullible, it’s that she willingly and repeatedly chose to blatantly ignore all of Marinette’s suspicions and warnings regarding Lila. Even after Adrienette finally became canon and Marinette had realistically no reason to feel jealous of Lila in any way, shape or form, Alya still couldn’t fathom that, perhaps, her best friend had her reasons for disliking Lila besides a love triangle. 

The moment Alya learned Marinette is Ladybug, the two should have been allowed to talk about Lila, about the real reason Marinette hates her, and to work together to overcome this issue and bring her down. How do you expect me to be okay with season 5 opening to these two having daily sleepovers to talk about Marinette’s love life, but not a single second could be spared after Illusion to have Alya question why Marinette hates her so much, if not connect the dots herself since she is Ladybug’s best friend, not Lila, and Ladybug hates her?

I’ve seen people justify this saying it’s been a long time since Lila lied about being Ladybug’s best friend, and while I’ll argue the last time it was mentioned was actually Chameleon, not Volpina, I could see your point. Except that is not just another lie, like her claiming she knows Jagged Stone or Prince Ali. No, that is the lie that started everything.

It was because Lila lied about knowing Ladybug to impress everyone, especially Adrien, that Marinette completely lost it and chewed her out for it in front of him. It’s because of that lie and the consequent reaction it got from Ladybug that Lila even developed a grudge in the first place. It’s because of that lie that Marinette ever found out about Lila being a liar, because before she first lied to Adrien about being close to Ladybug, Marinette was panicking because she had no chance against someone as incredible as her. If she hadn’t lied about knowing Ladybug, Marinette would have been as fooled by her as everyone else and the two might have never really come to blows.

So don’t tell me it was never brought up because it was so long ago and it doesn’t matter anymore, when that particular lie carries so much weight and we all know the real reason they couldn’t have Alya in Marinette’s corner is because the writers know Lila needs everyone around her to follow her blindly for her lies to work and everything to always work out in her favour because otherwise she just doesn’t work as a villain.

TL;DR: If you want a good resolution to the Lila Gets Exposed plot, pick literally any fanfic dealing with this exact premise. It’ll be better, I promise.