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devieuls · 18 days

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ˋ Haunted .✵

Qimir x Ex Jedi Fem Reader < SERIES >

Warning of the Serie: MDNI. Sith Lord Qimir x Fem ex Jedi Reader.

(during the series)

SMUT: Dirty Talk; Fangs; Bites; fingering; Blood; Spit; Jealousy and Possessiveness; Foreplay; violence; Swearing; Teasing; Unprotected Sex; betrayal; slut shaming; oral sex; dacryphilia; outdoorsex; jealousy BDSM. Dom Qimir ANGST: toxic relationship, self-harm, derealization, suffering, Requited / Unrequited love, prejudices, bullying and insults. There will be flashbacks in this series

Aged characters: Qimir 35 y.o / You 22 y.o.

Synopsis: In a twisted web of light and darkness, two opposites are facing each other, dancing on a thin thread called fate. What happens when light and darkness dance on a wire called destiny, two eternal opposites that inevitably attract each other and create something perfectly powerful and chaotic to unite the power of two in one? The answer emerges in a journey of tension and attraction, where yin and yang discover that their opposition is nothing but a reflection of a deep and unexpected connection. This is the story of how destruction is akin to peace, how the moon one day decided to save the sun, how darkness is not so dark and evil so bad. A journey towards change and desire, where opposing forces merge into a future that no one could have predicted.

(Following some events of the series)

Lenght: 4.9k

TW: THE SERIES WILL BE FULL OF DELICATE TOPICS!

⇠ Previous chapter ✵ Next Chapter ⇢

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Chapter I: The Abyss of Temptation

(The shuttle landed silently on the verdant surface of the planet Khofar, a wild jewel among the worlds of the Outer Rim Territories. As the hatch opened, a wave of humidity enveloped the Jedi, carrying with it the intense scent of damp earth and the exotic fragrance of the lush vegetation. The forest stretched out before them like an endless sea of green, where the trees rose like ancient towers, their massive trunks covered in layers of gleaming moss. The thick, intertwined canopies above them created a natural roof, allowing only faint rays of light to filter through, speckling the ground with golden patches. Khofar was a living, wild planet, and they were only temporary visitors, intruders in an ancient and balanced ecosystem. Every rustle among the leaves, every distant call, was a warning. A premonition or prelude to what the day would bring.)

If only you had known in advance that your teammates would die one by one before your eyes as you returned from the hut where Jedi Master Kelnacca lived, you would have thought twice before agreeing to the mission. You had fought against the Sith who killed your friends, battling with anger and bitterness, in a grief too fresh to fully comprehend. In the end, the pain of your body hitting the hard ground was nothing compared to the searing agony in your side from a nearly fatal wound. Your vision began to blur, and you could only see footsteps approaching before everything faded to black.

You awoke slowly, as if emerging from a hibernation that had lasted for years. Your eyes opened with difficulty, greeted by a nearly suffocating gloom. The dim light of a few torches was the only source of illumination within what seemed to be a cave. The rocky walls, uneven and cold, seemed to loom over you. You felt weak, every movement was a struggle, and a dull pain throbbed in your side. You tried to sit up, but your injured side forced you back down, a hiss of pain escaping your lips. You brought a trembling hand to the wound and felt the rough texture of the bandages wrapped around the torn flesh. Despite the agony, the wound had apparently been cleaned and treated with care. Someone had taken the time to tend to it, to ensure it would heal, though it was still far from being fully recovered. You looked around, trying to piece together fragments of memory that crowded your mind. You remembered your friends' deaths, Sol screaming, your lightsaber changing color, and a battle. You recalled the fierce confrontation with the Sith, your fall, and the darkness that enveloped you. But beyond that, nothing. You had no idea how you had ended up in that cave, nor who had brought you there.

Your heart raced, panic beginning to seep into your thoughts. Were you a prisoner? And if so, who had shown such mercy to tend to your wounds? The most unsettling question was the most obvious: why hadn't the Sith eliminated you when he had the chance? A shadowy thought slithered into your mind, and the face of the Sith echoed in the depths of your being. The idea that he might have been the one to save you, to care for you, was as chilling as it was improbable. Yet, you couldn’t shake the possibility from your mind, no matter how absurd it seemed.

You dragged yourself out with great effort, and through the blinding light, you saw the silhouette of a man, barely identifiable. You followed him stealthily, still holding your side and trying to endure the pain from the wound. For a moment, you lost sight of him, only to find him again shortly after, immersed in a pool of water in what seemed to be a coastal area with black sand you couldn’t identify. Your eyes fell on the figure facing away from you, submerged in the water, his muscles relaxed, his raven hair wet and slicked back. To your eyes, the man seemed completely unaware of your presence, though he appeared to have a vigilant awareness of the surrounding area. You moved silently among the rocks and vegetation, observing your target until your gaze fell upon a pile of clothes near the shore, where the deactivated lightsaber lay. With swift and somewhat precise movements, you approached the lightsaber. Tension mounted inside you as you crouched to pick it up, aware that any sound could betray your presence. You grasped the metallic object and assumed an attack position as the man began to speak, still with his back turned while he calmly washed himself.

"how does it feel?" he said, turning towards you. You recognized him immediately. The mere sight of his face sparked rage within you. "Pleasant, don't you think?" His tone was a piercing screech to your ears. You gritted your teeth, not responding, remaining in your attack stance. "Your stance is good despite the wound on your side, but your elbows are a real mess. I had my doubts when we fought last time, and now I see why it was so easy to defeat you. Your elbows are too low; you should keep one higher, you know?" he continued, observing you. "…To block more quickly and strike with more precision." He took a brief pause. "Since you don’t know how to use the Force, you should learn to block better," he concluded, stepping out of the water, now only a few steps away from you.

"Don’t move," your stance changed, now aiming the off lightsaber directly at him. Your gaze was sharp and cold. "If you don’t want to join me, at least let me put my clothes on" he said. You took a slight step back, allowing him to exit the water. You swallowed, trying not to let your gaze fall on the naked, wet defined body of the man, keeping in your mind that he was your enemy. You began to ponder whether it was appropriate to attack him now. But it was neither Jedi-like to strike a defenseless man nor to act in such a dishonorable manner. "Surely, you’re wondering if it’s honorable to kill me like this," he began, his tone different from the one used in battle. You swallowed. Your gaze fell for a second on his chest, and you cursed yourself for the terrible idea. "In battle it’s justified, but days later isn’t it revenge?" he asked with a sarcastic tone, as if he already knew the answer. "And now you wonder if I can read your mind… and the answer is… no. Anger betrays your thoughts" he continued, dressing himself as if you weren’t pointing a weapon at him. His gaze seemed oddly gentle, more delicate, almost innocent. So much so that he almost didn’t seem like the same man who had killed seven Jedi just a few nights before.

"Why did you bring me here? Why didn’t you kill me?" you asked, watching him sternly, uncertain of what to do next. "Am I your prisoner?" "Prisoner? You’re the one with a weapon" he said with an overly calm look and an obvious tone in his voice, as he walked back towards the cave, passing by you without fear. You followed him, teeth clenched. You wanted revenge on this man, but what a miserable person you would be to strike him from behind while he was unarmed. "If you keep me here, Sol will come for you. He’s found me before, and he’s powerful with the Force." Your voice sounded threatening, though not as forceful as you’d hoped due to the stabbing pain in your side. The man turned and looked at you with a puzzled expression. "Do you think he’s powerful with the Force? It’s you who’s powerful with the Force, y/n. Someone should teach you," he said. You were stunned for a few seconds, as he knew your name. To you, he was a stranger, but you didn’t seem to be as unknown to him. The stranger walked back into the cave, and you followed him, confused. "In what way am I powerful with the Force? You should know it’s something to be practiced. If you don’t train it, it fades" you said, your voice still sharp as you scrutinized the man who seemed so at ease in your presence. You had long abandoned being a Jedi, retreating shortly after becoming officially part of the Order. If it hadn’t been for your sister leaving a trail of blood wherever she went, you would have stayed far away from that world. You had lost every Force ability, not having practiced it for many years. You vaguely remembered how to use a lightsaber, thanks to Sol, who had helped you recall the skills during the time you spent together, training with his young Padawan Jecki.

The stranger was seated next to what appeared to be a small campfire, while you kept your distance. He tasted the food he was cooking. You didn’t trust him; something about him made you suspicious, aside from the fact that he had decimated your team. "You know… The Jedi teach that there’s only one way to access the Force, and if you don’t do it their way, it fades. But there’s another way," he said gently, turning his gaze toward you. "Beneath the surface of consciousness, there are powerful emotions." "Anger. Fear. Loss…" he slowly mentioned the emotions you had learned to suppress, as you had been taught in the Order during your time as a Jedi Padawan. "…desire." The last emotion was spoken almost in a whisper as he took on a more serious and penetrating expression. You swallowed, observing him with disdain, though you subconsciously held your breath as he listed the emotions. "That’s the path to the dark side," the words came out acridly from your mouth.

The man’s expression darkened for a moment, but he quickly masked it with a mocking smile. "semantics… You Jedi are so closed-minded," he replied, turning back to the fire, stirring the stew he was cooking. "The light side isn’t the only way to access the Force. The dark side… amplifies emotions. It’s just another way to access the Force. A way… to freedom." His convincing tone almost seemed reasonable, though it was contrary to your way of thinking. "You killed my friends," your gaze grew even sharper and more bitter, as your hand still gripped the hilt of the deactivated lightsaber, seeking comfort in the familiar cold metal. The Sith’s words were like poison seeping into your mind, exploiting the insecurities you had always tried to suppress. "Friends? That’s what you call people who come to seek you only in moments of need and then ignore your existence?" His voice was laced with a mix of disdain and feigned compassion. Every word from this man was a blade sinking into your soul, touching raw nerves you had tried to ignore. You had been trained to combat fear, anger, desire—all emotions that, if left unchecked, could lead you down the dark path. But at that moment, you felt the internal storm growing, fueled by suffering and loss, a mourning.

"War isn’t pretty, y/n, sometimes…" he began, his voice dropping to a near-whisper as he stood up, beginning to walk toward you with determined steps, never breaking eye contact. "Sacrifices must be made for a greater good." He stopped just inches from you, his penetrating gaze studying you with a mix of cynicism and desire, as if challenging you to contradict him. Every fiber of his being radiated an irresistible force, a magnetism that seemed to envelop him like a shadow. He leaned slightly toward you, his warm breath brushing against your skin as his lips dangerously neared your ear. "Your friends," he whispered with a cold, almost contemptuous tone, "were just collateral damage." His words were like sharp knives—cutting and relentless—but the seductive tone with which he spoke betrayed an unsettling intimacy, as if he were confiding a dark secret that only you could understand.

The stranger leaned back slightly, just enough to meet your gaze. His dark eyes, deep as an abyss, stared at you with an intensity that seemed to penetrate directly into your soul. His face was close, too close, and his expression was serious, almost sorrowful, but there was no trace of remorse—only a dark understanding. "Why do you love people who can only go so far?" His voice dropped further, becoming a near-confidential whisper. "Who can’t go as deep as you can?" His gaze was intense, his eyes locked onto yours with an expression that seemed to reveal far more than his words had. There was a hidden desire, a need struggling to surface, but the man skillfully masked it, maintaining a subtle balance between cynicism and seduction.

You held your breath, feeling the weight of his words and his proximity. You knew that behind those words lay a darkness trying to corrupt you, but his allure was dangerously real. Your mind was conflicted, torn between repulsion at the Sith’s cynicism and the irresistible magnetism surrounding him. The man gave you a slight smile, a smile that never quite reached his eyes, as he pulled back just a few centimeters, leaving you teetering between temptation and inner struggle. "Maybe, y/n," he added in a mellifluous voice, "you’re destined for something more… something greater… something that I can show you." "I’m not my sister. I’m not so easily corrupted," you said, looking him straight in the eyes, trying to maintain control over yourself. Every fiber of your being struggled to suppress the tumultuous emotions the stranger had tried to awaken in you. Your heart pounded loudly, betraying you, but your face remained impassive, covered by a studied veil of disgust. With a slow, deliberate motion, you took a step back, putting distance between you, your gaze charged with superiority and defiance.

Qimir observed you with an impassive expression, but behind his dark eyes was growing interest, a sort of admiration for your resilience. To him, you were not like the other Jedi he had encountered, too weak or easily swayed. In you, he saw a potential acolyte, someone with an inner strength that could be nurtured and guided toward an even greater power. A subtle smile appeared on his lips, a nearly imperceptible curve that betrayed his pleasure at seeing you so determined. "You’re not like your sister, that’s true," he admitted with a tone that seemed both a compliment and a challenge. He took a step toward you, closing the space between you once more, but this time with an even more calculated calm, like a hunter who knows its prey. "But don’t mistake your determination for invulnerability," he continued, his voice soft and sharp as a blade. "The force you suppress within you, the force you’ve learned to stifle, is what could make you great—much greater than the Jedi could ever imagine. I see in you a potential that goes beyond the limitations of their dogma, and that is what frightens them." He stopped just a few steps from you, his gaze locked on yours, trying to pierce through the mask you had erected. "I’m not here to corrupt you," he whispered, his voice almost persuasive. "I’m here to offer you a choice, a path that the Jedi have always denied you. A road to a freedom you don’t yet know." You felt a shiver run down your spine, but you refused to show any weakness to him.

"I don’t need your freedom," you replied coldly, your voice steady despite the internal turmoil. "Your whispers don’t touch me. I know who I am and what I represent." "So sure of yourself" he murmured, with a tone that seemed to appreciate your determination. "But what do you truly represent, y/n? A Jedi struggling against her own nature, stifling the potential that could make her truly powerful? Oh… perhaps I should say, ex-Jedi?" he asked with ironic amusement, towering over your figure. You clenched your teeth, pointing the hilt of the deactivated lightsaber at his stomach.

He tilted his head slightly, amused, his gaze growing more penetrating as he sought to reach that part of you he knew existed—the part that thirsted for knowledge, power, something more. “You feel the Force, you perceive it in ways that even the Jedi cannot understand. And you know there is a greater, deeper power calling you. It is not betrayal to explore that possibility. It is… evolution.” His words, spoken with such conviction, seemed to echo in the cave, breaking through the barriers you had erected to protect yourself. You raised your lightsaber to meet the man's neck. “Do it… light it” he ordered, his tone of challenge making your blood boil. The Sith, on the other hand, seemed delighted by your anger, his sharp and contemptuous smile only fueling the tension. Qimir merely tilted his head slightly to the side, offering his neck completely to you, his penetrating gaze fixed on the lightsaber you pointed at him, waiting for the moment you would decide to ignite it.

“A Jedi… does not attack the unarmed" you said through gritted teeth, your voice a murmur of frustration and determination. Your mind was a tumult of emotions, but your will to remain true to your principles was steadfast. “Do you still think you’re a Jedi?” he asked, his voice low and enveloping, almost hypnotic. “Don’t you remember how your lightsaber changed color the last time? Do you still believe you must adhere to a code you’re questioning within yourself?” Those words hit like a punch to the stomach, evoking images you would have preferred to forget. The blade of your lightsaber, once glowing a pure blue, had trembled, taking on red hues like those of the man before you. You took a step back, your heart racing, desperately trying to put space between you and that voice which seemed to read into you with ruthless precision. But the man gave you no respite. His hand moved with surprising speed, gripping your arm in a gentle yet firm hold. His fingers closed around your wrist, not enough to hurt, but enough to keep you from withdrawing the saber from his neck. The contrast between the contained strength of his touch and the relaxed calm of his face left you breathless.

His penetrating gaze was fixed on your eyes, a subtle yet relentless challenge. “You know yourself that after what’s happened you couldn’t return to the Jedi even if you wanted to,” he whispered, his tone charming and confident, as if he had already won this silent battle. “Sol has seen it, don’t believe that after succumbing to rage and revenge you can return to a position that no longer belongs to you.” You felt trapped, not so much by his hand holding you but by the words resonating inside you. His words seemed to challenge every certainty you had until that moment. Every fiber of your being wanted to reject him, but there was something in his tone, in the way he looked at you, that made you doubt, even if just for a moment. Qimir moved closer, his warm breath against your skin, each movement calculated with lethal precision. “It’s not a matter of principles, y/n,” he continued, his tone now almost seductive. “That pain, that anger… this is what you are.” Your breath grew irregular, your heart pounding in your chest as you struggled to maintain control. “Let me go.” you threatened, your voice a low growl, but you knew there was a shadow of hesitation you couldn’t hide.

“Sol saw it… the Jedi saw it” he continued, his tone now softer but laden with cruel truth. “And for that, they will throw you away, again.” His piercing gaze cut into you, as your eyes took on an expression of anger and fear at his words. You felt his words like a sharp blade piercing through your defenses, and your gaze hardened, but you couldn’t hide the flicker of fear in your eyes. The fear that, deep down, he might be right. The fear that your Order, those you would give your life to protect, might indeed see you as a threat, something to be eliminated. The Sith sensed that shift within you, and his gaze became even more penetrating, probing every corner of your mind. It was as if he could see every weakness, every hidden thought, and he used them with a terrifying skill. “You can’t hide from what you are, y/n. The dark side isn’t a weakness… it’s your strength. And you know it.” You gritted your teeth, disgust and anger mixing into an explosive blend that pushed you closer to the edge. He seemed to know exactly which buttons to press; every word, every look was a sharp blade striking at your raw nerves. The tension inside you grew, turning into a knot that threatened to snap. Until you could no longer hold it back, and it was in that moment that you ignited the lightsaber, the glowing blade just a breath away from his neck. “It won’t be like that,” you hissed, your voice barely above a whisper, desperately trying to stay calm, though your eyes betrayed the mask of confidence you wore. “I will not succumb to the dark side.”

The man remained still, his mocking smile slowly widening as his eyes stayed fixed on yours, as if he were looking through you, reading every hidden thought. He swallowed slowly, a gesture that seemed almost like an invitation, a further provocation. The blade of your saber illuminated his face, but there was no trace of fear in his eyes, only a cold calm. “It’s not something you have to give in to… it’s inside you,” he said with that velvety voice of his, each word a whisper insinuating doubt into your certainties. His words struck you like a blow to the heart, breaking that fragile barrier you were desperately trying to maintain. “Your potential is immense,” he continued, lowering his voice to a warm, almost intimate whisper. Your gaze grew sharper as the subtle poison in his words sought to seep into your consciousness. The lightsaber blade barely touched his skin without making contact, his calm expression only annoying you. It was as if the threat had no effect on him, as if he knew you would never have the courage to go through with it. Every movement he made was slow, deliberate, calculated to keep you on edge, playing with your emotions like a master puppeteer. Anger bubbled within you, a fire growing ever stronger, fueled by his words, his confident smile, the way he seemed to control everything. You couldn’t deny it; there was a part of you that wanted to give in, that wanted to let go of the anger, the pain that burned so intensely. And he knew it; you could feel it in his voice, see it in his eyes.

“I understand…” His voice was a seductive whisper, just above a breath, as his hand rose with studied slowness, approaching yours without ever touching it. His eyes, which had been filled with impenetrable confidence until now, took on a new light, something deeper, almost vulnerable. “I’ve lost everything, y/n…” His gaze now seemed sincere, almost pleading for some strange reason. “But when you lose everything,” he continued, his hand now resting on yours, which still gripped the cold lightsaber handle. The contact was surprisingly gentle, a light pressure, but enough to make you feel the warmth of his skin against yours. His grip was soft but firm, and the contrast between his words and the apparent gentleness of the gesture made you waver. “That’s when you’re truly free,” he concluded, his voice a whisper carrying an inescapable weight, an invitation to surrender, to let go of everything that still bound you to the light. His gaze locked onto your eyes, deep, almost pleading, but not for pity: for understanding, for sharing. It was as if he wanted you to see the world through his eyes, to understand that the dark side wasn’t a condemnation but a liberation. His words struck you forcefully, penetrating your defenses once again with lethal precision. It wasn’t just a mental game; there was something genuine in the pain that lingered in his voice, a shadow of loneliness that echoed your own torment. And in that moment, the Sith you had seen as an implacable enemy became a figure that seemed to understand your suffering, your anger.

“The anger you feel, the pain that consumes you… you don’t have to fight it,” he continued, his tone calm and inviting. The tension between you was thick, almost suffocating. You felt the dark side’s pull toward him, the promise of freedom shining like an irresistible temptation. But there was something more in that man, something human, making it harder to you to ignore. The sincerity in his gaze, his voice dropping to an almost intimate whisper, made you doubt your certainties. His hand, warm against yours, made you feel dangerously close to an abyss you weren’t sure you wanted to avoid. You remained still, analyzing his words in your mind. The lightsaber still tightly gripped in your hand, your teeth clenched as you swallowed before sighing, thinking about what you should do. You deactivated the lightsaber and stepped away from him, pressing the hilt of the now-deactivated saber against his chest. You wouldn’t be deceived by his seductive words. You knew who you were and what you fought for. But, inside, a small part couldn’t help but wonder: what if he was right?

“You don’t know me to tell me these things. And as I’ve said, I’m not corruptible like my sister,” You hissed, your voice charged with a tension the man couldn’t help but appreciate. He let his smile spread slowly across his face, watching with almost amused interest as you deactivated the lightsaber and then pressed the hilt against his chest. The determination in your eyes, the resolve in your gesture, fascinated him. It wasn’t the reaction he had expected, but there was something in you, an inner strength, a resilience that intrigued him deeply. He could see the internal struggle you were facing, the conflict between the Jedi code and the emotions he had deliberately stirred.

The Sith, with a slow and measured gesture, placed the hilt of the deactivated lightsaber on a nearby rock. The smile on his face shifted into a smirk of satisfaction. “Perhaps I know you better than you think,” he admitted, his voice soft and filled with an intensity that echoed in the silence of the cave, where only the crackling of the fire could be heard. “I see who you are… who you could be. Your strength, your will…” His steps continued to close the distance between you, and you took a step back, trying to maintain the space between you. He gently took your wrist and pulled you slightly towards him, towering over your smaller figure. He looked at you with what might have seemed like admiration or… desire. You held your breath, swallowing, paralyzed by what could be the gentlest yet most dangerous of predators. The man brought his face closer to yours, the distance between you reduced to mere centimeters, his breath mingling with yours, warm and slow. His touch was once again firm but never painful. His eyes, dark as the abyss, glowed with an intensity that slowly captivated you. You found yourself hanging on his lips, almost asking for permission to breathe regularly. “It is rare…” he concluded. You took a deep breath, and the tension between you was growing increasingly palpable. His tone was like sweet poison, flowing slowly through your veins, making you doubt once more everything you had always believed. His hand slowly moved from your wrist to your side, stopping just below your ribs, where the wound, though treated, still throbbed painfully. The contact, though light, made you flinch, a mix of pain and something else you couldn’t quite identify. You felt the warmth of his body against yours, the tension between you becoming almost unbearable.

“You’re still loyal to someone who didn’t think twice about abandoning you to the enemy on Khofar some nights ago…” You swallowed at his words, feeling the knot in your throat that blocked every word and the weight in your stomach. “Deep down, you’re still searching for a master, someone to guide you… That life, you’ve never truly felt it as your own; they never understood you,” he continued, his gaze fixed on your eyes as if he could see inside you, reading every thought, every hidden emotion. “But I can.” For a moment, you felt yourself falter at those words. The tension between you was palpable, and you could not take your eyes off what must be your enemy, although your mind tried to keep lucidity. Your breathing was slow and irregular, each breath an attempt to hold back an invisible and unknown force that seemed to want to overwhelm you. The knot in your throat was getting tighter, blocking the words you wanted to say. Your eyes were mesmerized. There was an incredible intensity in those foxy eyes, a mixture of fear and fascination that left your heart inexplicably throbbing and mind confused. You failed to swallow trying to make words come out to counter his claims

“You are like me…” he whispered a short distance from your lips.

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Notes :

Well, yes, the sexy hot af villain who will be the protagonist of the new series is Him. Qimir, from The Acolyte. If you don’t know him, go and watch that series because Manny Jacinto put all his effort to seduce us towards the dark side. This is just the beginning, still do not know how many chapters will have but I hope not many, I would like to write about more topics for him.

if you haven’t seen the series there will be some spoilers, so please watch the series first

-Mel

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122 notes · View notes

honey-words · 3 months

Text

spider boy’s partner — spider-man!midoriya izuku x reader

synopsis: now that you know what midoriya has been up to as spider-man, you offer to help him with his latest mission. [part 4/5 - series masterlist]

wc: 2.7k

author’s note: idk why monoma is the richboy douche in this he just is ok

The club you were in happened to be the university’s student-run newspaper—and you happened to be one of the writers on the science side of the paper. You were pretty well acquainted with the STEM professors, at least those willing to be interviewed and featured. You didn’t believe in fate much, but after Midoriya told you everything he knew, you started to think Destiny was giggling and kicking her feet somewhere at the little web of connections she’d made with this one.

Because you also happened to know one of Kyudai’s lab assistants, recognizing his name when Midoriya had shown you the list.

Monoma had been your partner in your freshman writing class. Begrudgingly, you’d bonded with him over the agonies of writing, and sharing your writing in a small group setting. You still greeted him around campus if you ever saw him.

When you tell Midoriya your plan, he insists on finding more information before you act on anything. You laugh when he suggests the possibility of Monoma being in on it; sure he was a bit pompous and annoying, but you don’t think a rich kid like him would go through that much trouble to make some extra cash. But Midoriya’s lips don’t even twitch to try and hide a smile, and you know he’s serious.

He comes back late one night when you’re still up doing homework. You don’t even jump when he slides your window open anymore, so used to it. Moony meows a greeting from her place next to you on the couch before going back to her grooming.

“All clear?” you asked, glancing up from your laptop briefly. He tugs his mask off and nods.

“Don’t even ask how I know.”

“Oh come on, you’re no fun.”

The next day, you pitch the idea to your editor.

“Another profile? Of course, go for it,” Momo beamed at you. She’s surrounded by piles of paper and has three different screens in front of her—you don’t know how she looks so cheerful. “Whenever you get it done is fine, I trust you’ll do great as always! Jiro should be able to help with photos.”

The next step in your plan is simple because you knew from the beginning that Monoma would be thrilled at the possibility of being featured. And you were right. Midoriya scoffs at how quickly Monoma replies to your text, agreeing to your proposition to meet up and discuss a project for the newspaper. Two days later, you meet up with him for coffee.

“Kyudai’s hardly around much anymore, we practically run everything,” he said. You’d let him choose the cafe, and you have to agree it’s pretty nice. If there was not a risk of running into him again here, you’d come back and make it a regular study spot. “He meets with us once a week, I’ll ask him then. He should say yes, he’s done a few of these in the past.”

You thank him profusely. To make sure he showed up, you offered to treat Monoma to a drink. You winced at his complicated order and regretted your decision when you saw the pained look on the barista’s face, but you pasted a smile on your face and treated him to it nonetheless. Never mind the fact that his backpack alone was worth almost as much as your laptop. It was more of a symbolic gesture, you both understood that.

As carefully as possible, you ask more questions about Kyudai, hoping to get as much information out of Monoma as possible. “Wow, you run the study? Why isn’t Kyudai around as much anymore? Is it another study? Where’s his lab?”

Monoma is oblivious to your prodding and answers your questions happily. He has a vague understanding of where Kyudai goes when he’s not at the lab or in lecture, and you hope it’s enough for Midoriya to work with.

Spider boy is sitting a table over, behind Monoma, and facing you, wearing a disguise you picked out for him (a dark outfit you thrifted for him, one of your old baseball caps, necklaces that he never wore—he’d refused the fake piercing, much to your dismay). It’s hard to hide your smile when you make eye contact with him.

Unfortunately, Monoma seemed to think you were agreeing with whatever he was talking about. Belatedly you realize he’s ranting about humanities majors.

“You know I’m not a STEM major, right?” you shut him down firmly, taking an angry sip of your latte.

This doesn’t seem to deter him, and if you hadn’t made a quick excuse to leave and end the interview formally you’re sure he would’ve happily taken on the challenge of trying to convert you, or god forbid, ask you out for dinner. Because your smiles at Midoriya may have been misinterpreted in that regard, too.

“He’s nice,” Midoriya teased when you met up with him a block away from your apartment, as planned. You’d insisted on all the sneaking around because it added a flair of fun to the situation. Plus, any excuse to dress him up. You eyed the outfit you’d picked out for him and decided he could keep the necklaces you’d let him borrow.

You snorted and rolled your eyes. “The things I do for the mission.”

He laughed as you entered your apartment. “Are you my sidekick now or something?”

You huffed indiginantly, calling for Moony who immediately came running, meowing loudly in protest for being left alone for two hours. “Please, where would you be without this plan? I’m obviously the mastermind behind Spider-Man.”

“So you’re my person in the chair?”

“See, I’m more of an agent, because I go into the field—”

“Okay, okay,” he placated you, scooping Moony up in his arms to spoil her with kisses before setting her down again just as quickly, knowing how fussy she can be. “Anyway, he was totally flirting with you.”

“Monoma?” you asked, aghast. You tossed him a soda from your fridge, smiling despite yourself at how he caught it without even looking up from his phone at the kitchen table. You like testing his spidey senses whenever you can, knowing they’ve never failed.

“Yes, who else?” he laughed. You glare at him halfheartedly. “Did you not notice his advances?”

“No!” you said, wracking your brain and laughing at Midoriya’s phrasing. You only remembered getting what you needed and trying very hard not to laugh whenever you met Midoriya’s gaze, or to stare at him too hard when he wasn’t looking.

“Y/N, I just work so hard as a research assistant,” Midoriya said in a high, nasally impression of Monoma. “But here I am, gracing you with my presence. You should be honored.”

“Oh my god, he did not say that!”

Midoriya laughed, amused by your reaction and his impression. “He might as well have! But anyway, thanks again for helping me with this.”

“I’m your agent in the field, your mastermind—”

“Okay, okay!”

——— * * * ———

You spend the next week prepping after Monoma texts you to confirm Kyudai is willing to be interviewed on this day and this time, which you agree to. Thankfully, Jiro is able to tag along to take pictures for the newspaper.

You hadn’t felt nervous about one of these since you did your first piece three years ago. You blurted it out to Midoriya, which had been a mistake.

“You can cancel,” he said. You were both leaving the library after a productive study session, and he was just about to leave for his chemistry lab. “Do you want me to go with you to cancel?”

“No,” you insisted, smiling at how earnestly he was on your side. “I can do this. We can do this, spider boy.”

He’d squeezed you into a hug goodbye before leaving for lab, with a promise to meet up with you later for a late-night snack.

It turned out you had nothing to worry about because when the day came, you were the perfect picture of professionalism. And you actually found the research interesting, so you did not have to fake the smiles and nods of acknowledgment, even when Monoma was talking. It was all focused on cells, and though you don’t quite understand all of it completely, you know its impressive.

And you can’t help but wonder if what he’s doing in his other lab is scarier and more impressive than this.

Your smile almost falters before you remember the earnest look in Midoriya’s eyes when he talks about his professor and how determined he looks every time he goes out to patrol. You take a deep breath and grip your phone tighter, straightening your arm to make sure you’re recording everything Monoma is saying.

After Jiro is satisfied with the pictures she’s been taking periodically and you’ve asked most of your questions, you all move outside to continue talking, so as to not to disturb some of the other students that have started to trickle into the space to do their own work. You’re just helping Jiro arrange everyone on a bench for a group photo when Kyudai’s phone starts to ring.

“My apologies, let me silence that—” it rings again just as he manages to get it out of his pocket, and you see the way his eyes widen behind his glasses when he sees the caller ID.

“How about a short break everyone? We can meet back here in five.”

Kyudai scurries away at that, too far away for you to even try and eavesdrop.

You say goodbye to Jiro, who explains the first group photo she got is more than enough. Monoma and his research partners are all chatting, so you’re left alone to check your phone.

Three texts from Midoriya, which you immediately tap on to open up, fearing the worst. He had promised to be stealthy, in and out. Take some pictures, see what the operation was about. Submit to the police afterwards.

From: spider boy

6:43 pm - Okay, don’t be mad

6:43 pm - but I had to call the cops in like ASAP

6:44 pm - so end your interview fast and go home!!!!!

You turn around, hoping your urgency to end this isn’t written all over your face, only to almost run over Kyudai standing right in front of you.

“I’m terribly sorry to cut this short,” he laments. “But I do have to run now. Please feel free to email me with any followups, and thank you for featuring our work.”

You assure him it’s fine, you only have a couple of questions for his assistants, and he’s off, not quite running but also not walking.

You finish your questions as quickly as you can and then leave, trying not to run back to your apartment, almost laughing out loud remembering Kyudai was dashing off in a very similar way.

Expecting to see Midoriya waiting for you on your couch you practically throw the door open, Moony meowing at you in surprise from her favorite kitchen table chair. He’s not there.

You turn your small TV to the local channel, waiting for the evening news to start, or the breaking news segment you thought would already be airing, and pull up your Spidey News tab on your laptop. The little livestream banner is the first thing you notice at the top of the page, because you’ve never seen it actually active before.

The livestream loads just as the breaking news segment starts, both of your screens showing off slightly different angles of Spider-Man perched on a high building, a dozen police cars down below him. You recognize the buildings as the ones downtown, near the train station.

A reporter appears, interrupting the live feed of Spider-Man in favor of quickly running through the events that have seemingly just transpired as quickly as possible as more police cars arrive behind her. Your mouth falls open when you see biohazard-suited people arrive seconds later, pushing the curious gathering crowd back.

On the Spidey News live stream, Spider-Man is looking down from his spot on the roof, sitting perfectly still. You almost laugh, knowing how often he likes to hang his legs over the edge to dangle or do handstands for people waving below. But today, he’s the perfect image of solemnity.

The reporter raises her voice in surprise as a small car arrives, parting the crowd behind her, and Kyudai jumps out. He looks like he’s crying as the cameraman is quick to zoom in on his face, trying to frantically offer up any explanations as the cops are on him in seconds, blocking him from the view of the cameras and taking him away before the reporter can get her mic close enough.

After that, things start to slow down.

The reporters don’t have the full picture, you quickly realize. “Officers are telling us that this is a biohazard situation, but it is now under control, and the streets are opening back up, and the trains are running again. This is a heavily populated area, primarily by students, so officials used an abundance of caution to ensure no one was put at risk.”

Every time a variation of this is repeated, the camera pans to find Spider-Man again (he was dangling his legs over the edge of the building earlier) and a vague comment is made about his presence before panning back to the reporter. You furrow your eyebrows and glance back at your livestream tab, only to see that it's ended.

“Worried about me?”

You scream at the same time Moony meows in surprise, both of you turning to see Midoriya standing by your window, mask in his left hand. Moony curls back up into a loaf to resume her nap and you do your best to glare at Midoriya from your spot on the couch.

“You little shit! How’d it go?”

“We got him!”

You jump up to finally hug him and he laughs, hands sliding around your waist as you slip your fingers into his hair. As though you always do this, as though hugging is a totally normal occurrence and not making you blush and your heart speed pick up.

“Let’s celebrate!” you declare as soon as you break away, hurrying into the kitchen to hide your embarrassed expression. “Get changed and you can tell me all about it.”

He hums a response and you hear your door open and close as you open and close cupboards around your kitchen, setting things down on the counter. By the time he gets back, you’re staring intently at a recipe on your phone.

“Okay, let’s do this.”

You launch into the recipe and he starts telling you all about it, as promised.

“The lab was totally empty, no one was there. So I knew I had to call it in and get some proof.” He tells you he’d texted his friend at the police station as soon as he could.

“And I even found a lead on Professor Yagi,” he said, in a more subdued tone. “Kyudai owns more property further downtown…I made sure to let Tsukauchi know about it. He said he’d text me if they found anything.”

“Has he texted?” You stop in your mixing, hands twitching to reach forward and grab his hand. But you refrain.

Midoriya shakes his head. “There were like five properties on the list. He has to get enough personnel to hit them all at once. I’m assuming they’re doing it right now.”

“And you couldn’t go yourself because you didn’t want him to recognize you,” you said in realization. “Oh Midoriya, why didn’t you tell me?”

“We got him,” he shrugged, though you can see his eyes are glassy with tears, going back to mixing your batter. You look down at your own bowl and realize this is a lot of batter.

“Plus, I got a good feeling.” He gives you a watery smile and you feel more at ease.

You make idle conversation after that. You do your best to keep Midoriya in high spirits, and you both scramble for your phones at every single notification.

The cookies are when the oven when the text comes.

You both reach his phone at the same time, the screen lit up with the text.

From: Tsukachi

Sorry for the late reply. Yagi is safe.

Midoriya sags against the table, laughing in relief.

“Your spidey senses were right,” you smile at him, gently shaking his shoulders and smiling wide.

He nods, grinning up at you, breathless with relieved laughter and eyes shining. “Thank god.”

taglist: @yoonights @justxiao @nonhon @koreluvsspring @orangetappe @shokomilks @froggybich @dekuloveshotcheetos (to be added leave a comment!)

masterlist

#midoriya izuku x reader #midoriya x reader #midoriya izuku x you #mha x reader #bnha x you #izuku midoriya x reader #izuku midoriya x you #deku x reader #midoriya izuku x oc #spiderman deku #bnha fanfiction #spiderdeku

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mintywolf · 6 months

Text

Far away in Gelvaan, amid the Taloned Highlands of Marquet, the birth of Liliana and Relvin Temult’s baby girl is overshadowed by misfortune. The poor thing is thrust into the world under a flare of the unlucky moon, and covered in dead poppy flowers. The dead blooms crumble away as she’s cleaned up and swaddled by the midwife, falling from her ears, in scattered patches all over her little body, a ring of them around her neck. These ones are the last to fall, and the impression of them remains like a scar, a band of poppies on her throat. -- In all her life, Matilda has never found a single flower on herself, which must mean that she has no soulmate. Imogen is born in withered blossoms, which must mean that hers is already dead. When a first bloom appears on Laudna five years after her death, she sets out to find the person destiny has bound her to, no matter how long it takes.

A Southern Gothic soulmate flowers AU!

#critical role #critical role fanfiction #soulmate au #angst with a happy ending #southern gothic #imodna #imogen temult #laudna

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ramblingsofaspinningmind · 1 year

Text

Harsh Judgments

Follow www.tumblr.com/ramblingsofaspinningmind2

TW BEAST Intrigued by her scent and touch, Loki nuzzled against her arm, causing a low growling noise to escape his throat. Unnerved by his sudden display of dominance, Karla instinctively took hold of his collar and gave him a stern look. "No, bad boy," she whispered, trying to assert her authority.

Surprisingly, Loki yielded easily, backing away submissively and looking up at her with a mixture of apology and admiration. Touched by the gesture, Karla decided to engage with him further, offering her palm so he might lick it. To her amazement, Loki not only reciprocated but went a step further by leaning forward and placing his front paws on her shoulders, his tongue reaching upward to investigate her neck.

Feeling slightly unprepared for such direct affection from a dog, Karla froze momentarily, unsure whether she should push him away or allow the intimate contact to continue. However, as Loki nestled his head between her breasts, something stirred deep within her—an attraction, perhaps? An awakening? Or just the natural pull of raw chemistry?

These questions raced through Karla's mind as she found herself leaning into the embrace, running her fingers through the dense fur around Loki's ears. Feeling increasingly connected to the husky, Karla continued stroking him tenderly, relishing the warmth and comfort he provided.

Before long, her hands wandered below Loki's waistband, eventually discovering something quite unexpected. A part of his anatomy that shouldn't have existed was right in front of her, taunting her preconceived ideas about what it meant to connect physically.

The realization hit Karla hard, nearly knocking her off balance. In disbelief, she stumbled backwards onto the bed, still clutching Loki's soft fur, unable to process everything she had discovered. Her thoughts tumbled over each other, racing at breakneck speed, until one conclusion stood out above all others: whatever happened here would change her life forever.

Karla couldn't deny the undeniable truth of Loki's masculinity. His pheromones seemed to fill every breath she took, clouding her judgment, urging her deeper into his web of seduction. She knew then that there was no turning back, no escape from this inescapable force driving her towards ecstasy.

And so, Karla closed her eyes and let herself succumb fully, abandoning all reason and surrendering completely to the sensations rushing over her body. In that instant, a primal need burst forth, demanding attention, commanding release. Without reservation, Karla embraced it wholeheartedly, giving voice to her passionate response.

As if guided by instinctual forces beyond mortal comprehension, her hands danced across Loki's form, learning every curve and contour until they settled upon his thick shaft. With sure strokes and confident caresses, Karla massaged the muscular length until a familiar heat began to build.

She worked diligently, determined to wring every last drop of pleasure from Loki's being. Tendrils of desire coiled through her, binding her heart to the husky's soul, sealing their destinies together for eternity. Their mutually shared ardor flared brighter than any starry night sky, casting bright flames which illuminated the darkness surrounding them.

As Loki's tremors grew stronger, Karla could feel a corresponding surge coursing through her own bloodstream. Time melted away, leaving only the present moment and the intense energy bridging two vastly different species. Forgetful of anything else, consumed solely by their love, the bond connecting Karla and Loki grew ever stronger, unbreakable even by the passing of time itself.

With each stroke, Karla felt the tightness building inside Loki, signaling his imminent release. She quickened her pace, kneading the base of his shaft gently while sliding her fingers over the smooth tip. As his excitement peaked, Loki issued a muffled whimper, followed by a series of erratic twitches racking his entire frame.

Suddenly, a hot jet of semen sprayed from Loki's erect member, covering Karla's hand and chest before dissipating into the room's cool air. Driven wild by the potent tang and sweet musk intermingling on her skin, Karla moaned aloud, feeling the echoes reverberating throughout her body.

After several moments of restless panting, Loki slowly regained control over himself, pulling back enough to collapse beside her, spent but content. He looked up at Karla fondly before closing his eyes, settling into a peaceful slumber alongside her.

Still mesmerized by the encounter, Karla lay immobile, lost in thought, studying the intricate patterns of moonlight filtering through the window blinds. While many people would see her experience as shameful, perverted, or abnormal, she saw none of those things. Instead, she cherished the newfound understanding, the profound connection she had formed with another living being.

Without conscious direction, Karla's hand drifted toward her sex, seeking relief from an insatiable urge. Her fingertips grazed along the swollen folds of her labia before dipping into the wetness within.

While most humans viewed animals as mere property, Karla respected the complexity of Loki's personality and emotions; therein lay the beauty of lovemaking without boundaries. Tonight, both parties left fulfilled, having shared something truly magical, despite society's harsh judgments.

#story #smut

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aajjks · 7 months

Note

Here is the Masterlist

JUNGKOOK MASTERLIST

(Only Jungkook)

SERIES-

The Conqueror

Bunny Koo

Mommy Issues

The Price Of Love

Automaniac

Fuck

TEASERS-

Caught In A Web- No Way Out

Fear

The Boy

Hello Neighbour

Teach Me

ONESHOTS-

Scream Baby

Husband & Wife

Girlfriend

Spawn Of The Devil

Its You

squeal - Your Forever

Mistress

Pure

The Beast

Fatal

Control

Prisoner

Blessed

Hell

Tear Heaven

Cruelty Of Love

Loyalty

Need

Distraction

Family Affairs

Crush

Bed with your name on it

Monster in the dark

Needy

Puppy

Fa(i)lling

Choice

Taste

Monster

Tutor

Destiny

Debt

Lovers

Toxic

please please PLEASE!

Desperado

Nowhere

Oh my God, you actually did it— this is so sweet of you oh my God I have no words I wish I could thank you in Some other way. Oh my God we have an updated jk masterlist 🥺🥺 thank you so much, you have no idea.

#asks #jk masterlist

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darknesseddiem · 6 months

Text

𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐚

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: In the midst of what was anticipated as an ordinary school excursion to Romania, little did you and your friends anticipate the descent into darkness and bloodshed that awaited. The innocuous journey swiftly morphed into a harrowing odyssey as you delved deep into the enigmatic depths of a local legend, its ancient whispers beckoning you towards an abyss of chilling secrets.

What commenced as a lighthearted escapade swiftly spiraled into a nightmarish reality. Grotesque and inexplicable deaths cast an ominous pall over the once jovial atmosphere, while the fabric of reality itself seemed to fray at the seams. Disappearances plagued the tranquil neighborhood, shrouded in an eerie silence broken only by the unsettling whispers of the wind.

The Hawkins gang found themselves ensnared in a web of intrigue and dread, as unsettling dreams wove themselves into the fabric of their waking lives. Each night brought visions of unspeakable horrors, foretelling a fate intertwined with the ancient curse that gripped the land.

As the veil of ignorance was lifted, long-buried truths clawed their way to the surface, revealing a tapestry of forgotten loves and bitter enemies from lives long past. It became evident that the specters of history were not content to remain confined to the annals of time, but instead sought retribution and resolution in the present.

Amidst the chaos and despair, a flicker of hope emerged—a beacon of possibility amidst the encroaching darkness. Could you, a mere schoolgirl thrust into the heart of an ancient mystery, unravel the tangled threads of Romania's cursed legend? Dare you confront the malevolent forces that lurk in the shadows, and strive to liberate a poor soul ensnared by the chains of destiny?

In a land where the echoes of the past reverberate with haunting intensity, the fate of the Hawkins gang hangs precariously in the balance. Will you succumb to the seductive whispers of despair, or rise to the challenge and confront the darkness that threatens to consume all in its path? The choice is yours, as you embark on a journey that will test the limits of courage, resilience, and the enduring power of the human spirit.

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞��𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Heavy content, dark themes, violence, blood, murded, witchcraft. More will be added

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2,3k

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: So, this is is the rewritten version of my old series "Strolling Through Romania", I have an obligation to warn you that this version will be a little more explicit and a little harsher for certain readers. Please, if you are sensitive to these types of topics, do not read. I have other fanfics that you can read if you don't feel comfortable with this one.

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @ali-r3n @birdysaturne @maedesculpaeusoubi

𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞: In the heart of the ancient woodland, a frantic escape unfolds as shadows whisper of ominous fates. Reality warps, concealing a lurking malevolence. Amidst chains of torment, an eternal curse is woven, binding a soul to endless longing. In the haunted depths, a mysterious tale unfolds, shrouded in darkness and secrets, known only to the silent forest.

𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐭 𝐁𝐨𝐲: As Arcadia High School diligently readies its senior students for an academic expedition to explore Romania's renowned museums, anticipation crackles in the air. Yet, amidst the buzz of excitement and preparation, you finds yourself haunted by a chilling nightmare that lingers like a specter in your mind, casting a shadow over the forthcoming journey.

Meanwhile, across town, the Hawkins police force grapples with a harrowing investigation—the savage and enigmatic murder of a young boy, a crime so brutal it sends shockwaves through the city's core.

𝐇𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐑𝐞𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐬 𝐈𝐭𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟: Caught between nightmares and a shroud of chilling secrets, you uncover truths long veiled by your parents and grandmother. Meanwhile, Hopper, haunted by his own past, recognizes the ominous pattern of history destined to repeat itself. As you navigate the murky waters of family deceit, a race against time ensues, urging you to unearth the hidden truths before the shadows of the past envelop you in their unforgiving grasp.

#darknesseddiemfics #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddiemunson #dark!eddie munson #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie x reader #eddie munson smut #vampire!eddie #eddie smut #eddie munson angst #eddie stranger things

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storgicdealer · 5 months

Text

based on the previous post about tdls arc i rb'd and filled with my ramblings and ascii art i also just rb'd im going to continue my ramblings about the rules of code in ava

(with doodles!)

okay so. all we know right now is that all sticks to begin with have a script. and that it starts with their name and influences their destiny?/powers. its obviously notable with the hollowheads and also but im rambling on other sticks as well

i have lots of questions about how much code and programs work in the universe and influences everyone. the first obvious question is the coding of tdl with their command of destroying chosen. i adore the interpretation of it still affecting them in some way in the fandom !!!! however in canon it isnt elaborated upon. which begs the question of did it affect them? if it did, just how much did it affect them?? was any of this code left in their programming?? if it did affect them, how did they manage it??? have they tried to mess with their programming?? honestly, how did they start programming in the first place???? since they came directly from the pc, interacted with programs and the fact that code wouldve been useful in their terrors its not surprising for them at all to code by themselves, but no other hollowheads were shown to master it to a point of creating something — could it been the consequence of trying to remove their command? another question, if it was still somehow left in them, how did it affect them during showdown?

one of the interpretations of it that it's been "dormant" and that their need of destroying had shown itself in their seven year long reign of terror and why it was SO hard for them to back off. and that the showdown eventually made both dark and chosen to go "back to their roots". but since the command was targeted on chosen specifically i believe that if thats were the case the need to destroy wouldve been expressed to him and not to the whole web (god all this stuff opens so many ideas for them)

my second big wonder that i have is about the creation of chosen himself. as i mentioned in my rb all hollowheads attacked only when they felt threatened or had a command ingrained into them like with dark. except chosen

he attacked the second that he was born without being threatened. just by getting his name. (its also interesting to note the names noogai considered before bringing him to life – again victim, killer and BEAST. did any of that influence chosen too?). in the instant messenger conversation programmer021 mentioned stickmen having levels which i believe is most widely interpreted in a non literal sense, just in the "how powerful is he" way. but if it is used in a somewhat literal sense? it opens a big conception of leveling??? and that being the "chosen one" is, supposedly, one of the highest levels possible for a stickman to have. and the fact that making him the chosen one was called a suicide???? god

it isnt really known from the series alone how much being the chosen one influences a stickman or a creation in general besides having very high levels of power. at the same time, having powers isnt an instant call to attack — unless there are in-universe rules that suppose that being the chosen one immediately means destruction being ingrained into a sticks code. but if thats the case... how much would it influence chosen as well?? wouldnt he have an innate, coded need of destruction too? and if its like this, how would he come back down from it? and if it goes in hand with tdls command too, why it was easier for him to denounce destruction than to tdl? does being the chosen one imply a variety of abilities, with destruction being part of it, but not it being the part that is impossible to suppress?

along with the "literal levels" idea, where would the second coming and the dark lord come in the "hierarchy"? and with the idea that being "the chosen one" initially supposes destruction, did the dark lord, given their name, have any initial code of destruction prior until the go and kill chosen command? why instead of attacking noogai as well they stretched at first instead, until they got their command?

these thoughts bring me to the idea of how exactly adobeflash brings a stick to life, to have a code of their own that influences them and ill probably have to dig information on the program itself and its coding language to know more about its functions. if bringing a stick to life, giving them powers is a function of animated programs in the universe, what else can a program do with them? how does adobeflash makes its creations interact with other applications? how could a creator get rid of a sticks life except for the supposed "dont save the changes" button? man. the whole idea of ava having interactable, 3d and alive internet, animations and creations in general, the existence of outernet as a whole makes me really happy since i just adore internet and digital concepts. i love exploring ava rules !!!

now getting to the second coming. to begin with, how was the program aware of who they were a second coming of in the first place to give them powers? the question feels answearable, but at the same time, second wasnt aware of their powers up until literally the last episode of ava. theres a lot to be thought about their awakening too

if most applications, art and creations has their own consciousnesses [desktop applications, youtube, browser stuff and etc], then how did specifically the last frame of second's animation come to life? could any previous frames of that animation be alive as well? and if they could be, would second's "clones" have the same powers and the same name?

in general, sticks are perceived as a separate entity in ava, but i do wonder if that could be the case, based on the fact that victims clones were able to be created and used after lol. even with vics clones, even with the idea that they're temporary, do they share the same memories with victim? given that victims life was "unsaved" along with their clones, were they able to "uncopy" themselves, or did they continue to just exist? are the clones that agent deployed in the box the same clones or new ones, just made with the amount that what victim is personally used to/the amount of weapons that victim is used to? if they are the same ones and were somehow able to "get back" into victim, do they continue sharing the same memories with them?

talking about other sticks i also have questions about their code. color gang for example

so far we had only seen the creation of hollowhead sticks by noogai and we dont even know about how other types of sticks came to life, not even mentioning the process of it, their code and their possible "program of birth". we do know that other alive sticks, and other HOLLOWHEADS, created by users exist given the stick rights banner in ava 3, yet it is the only clue of stickmen like noogais hollowheads existing. and we know that nonhollowheads are considered "naturally created" sticks both in internet and outernet, and that they're naturally weaker than "artificial" hollowheads are and that, supposedly, they reproduce by themselves. but how did they come to exist in the first place? do the rules of the universe imply them just coming into life by themselves, with the outernets existence? we do know, again, that users, other computers and programs exist in the universe and that some sticks are created by other artists, but were any of non-hollowheads like the colorgang, mercs, king, purple, gold, navy&orchid, everyone in the cities we have seen created by someone else as well? and why noogais stickmen are more special than others? are there stickmen stronger than noogais hollowheads? ... how would you tell two solid-headed sticks apart if, say, some artist created a copy of a "naturally" made stick?

if non-hollowheads stickmen are created too, are they in touch with their creators? besides the enslavement fact-freedom guy stick banner, do creators tend to torture or befriend their sticks, creations in general? are there stereotypes about sticks and their creators? is it more or less acceptable in stick society to be in touch with your creator? are other creators, besides noogai, aware of the outernet?

... where would the creators of the color gang, mercs, king and purple & co be?

talking about the "natural" and the reproduction part, i do wonder, if, in case of non-hollowheads also being created by other people and animators, purple and gold came to life as a will of creators or as a will of the sticks themselves. we have only seen symbolic depiction of purple coming to life in their song, and i feel like it can be a depiction of a stickman drawn for two other stickmen (with the existing code of them being their child) or a proof of actual, natural reproduction. if child sticks were drawn for the parent sticks, were they drawn by their creator or by the parents themselves?

talking about creation again, i do wonder why king was called "king" in the minecraft code, given that he had a life prior to becoming one. was it a player name inside minecraft that he has given to himself, or a name that he had outside minecraft as well? if its the second, why was he called king before? did he do anything king role related prior minecraft? and if it is not his real name, what IS his real name? and did he end up changing it back?

in general, talking about my favourite alive internet concepts, how did outernet appear? did it come into existence along with the internet? is outernet an extension of internet, and does it serve as a sort of a "backstage" for what is happening in the internet sites?

in my personal interpretation, i feel like outernet IS and extension of internet, and it develops with it — that, if you needed to describe it, the internet is the flat front of a regular box, while the outernet is the 3d space inside the box.

goooddd i think im done with my questions and ramble. my beckerverse brainrot consumes all. this is so long omg

if you read till the end...... have an aurora borealis duo doodle !!!! thank yew

#animator vs animation #alan becker #storgesinsaneramblings #ava the chosen one #ava hollowheads #ava the dark lord #ava theories #ava the second coming #fun fact the chosen one is considered malware by the avast virus ...... what are the implications of that #god this ramble gave me so many ideas

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kdram-chjh · 2 years

Photo

Cdrama: My Uncanny Destiny (2023)

😳 king you are my wife 😂💕 cdrama

Watch this video on Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/shorts/pImlHktBzsM

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devieuls · 17 days

Text

ˋ Haunted . ✹

Qimir x Ex Jedi Fem Reader < SERIES >

Warning of the Serie: MDNI. Sith Lord Qimir x Fem ex Jedi Reader.

(during the series)

Aged characters: Qimir 35 y.o / You 22 y.o.

(Following some events of the series)

Lenght: 4.2k

TW: THE SERIES WILL BE FULL OF DELICATE TOPICS!

⇠ Previous chapter ✵ Next Chapter ⇢

· · ─────── · 𖥸 · ─────── · ·

⠀⠀⠀⠀Chapter II: The Loss

“You are like me…” he whispered a short distance from your lips.

The tension between you was almost tangible in the air. The fire burning in the cave cast shadows on his chiseled features, making his eyes shine with an intense and dark light. His gaze was piercing, but it was no longer just malice: there was a deep understanding, a dangerous invitation. His words, making their way into your mind, mingled with your thoughts, bringing you to a realization you didn’t want to accept. You swallowed. You couldn’t give in, you couldn’t allow yourself to become what he said you were. You were not like that. With a tremendous effort, you pushed his hand away, taking a step back to break the spell that seemed to envelop you both.

“I’m not like you,” you declared, your voice firm, though still charged with that tension that seemed ready to explode at any moment. “I won’t let the dark side consume me. I won’t become a monster like you.” Silence fell between you two. The man slowly withdrew, as if accepting your decision, but with an expression that suggested his offer was far from withdrawn. Perhaps, he thought, it would only take another moment of weakness, another moment of raw reality, to make everything you believed in crumble.

“A monster?” he repeated with chilling and sarcastic calm, his voice like silk sliding over your defenses. “Is that how you were taught to see us? What monstrosity is there in feeling free, y/n? Free, from everything that holds you back… free from the weight of a code that suppresses and represses emotions. Your emotions.” His words were a dangerous whisper, insinuating themselves into your heart with lethal precision. He knew exactly where to strike, where your hidden wounds could be opened. And every time he spoke, it seemed he was getting closer, physically and mentally, to a part of you that had taken years to hide. “See, I’m not bound by anything,” he continued, with a kind of dark pride, tilting his head slightly as if to study you better. “And neither should you be. Have you never felt that desire inside you? The urge to push beyond the limits that have been imposed on you? To let go?” His hand moved again, slowly, deliberately, resting on your shoulder this time, as his body moved close enough for you to feel the warmth of his presence. Despite everything, you couldn’t pull away. Every fiber of your being fought against yourself, yet his proximity was a temptation you were finding increasingly difficult to resist.

“You’re like me,” he whispered once more, his voice a warm breath near your ear. “No matter how much you try to deny it. No matter how hard you try to repress what you feel. The dark side flows within you… the anger, the pain… the desire. Isn’t that what makes us alive?” You swallowed, your breath short as you struggled to maintain control, but each word he spoke hit you with surgical precision. Each whisper dragged you closer to the edge of a dark and unknown abyss. Your mind was in turmoil, torn between denial and an unsettling awareness. There was something true in his words. Your pain, your anger… the emotions you had always suppressed were there, on the surface, and the idea of releasing them was alluring like a forbidden promise.

“Let me go.” you hissed, your voice breaking between the tension and the desire to break the spell that seemed to surround you both. “I am not like you. I will never be like you.” The smile that spread slowly across the Sith’s face was predatory, laden with a confidence that made you seethe with frustration. But there was also something more… a hidden desire, a dark curiosity that made him look at you as if you were an enigma he desperately wanted to solve. “Not now,” he admitted, bringing his face even closer to yours, his eyes probing yours with such intensity that made you shiver. “But one day… you will understand. One day you will see what I see in you.”

His hand slid down your arm, stopping at your wrist, the touch light but firm, as if he could control not just your movements, but also your thoughts. He leaned in towards you, his face now just inches from yours, his lips dangerously close, enough to make your heartbeat quicken. His warm breath brushed your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. “When that day comes,” he whispered, his voice a breath that seemed to penetrate every defense you had, “you won’t be able to turn back. And then, finally, you will be free.” His eyes seemed to linger on your lips for a moment, making you hold your breath once more inexplicably. You remained still, caught between revulsion and an attraction you didn’t want to admit or truly understand. Every word he said made your convictions waver, yet inside you, your will still resisted, clinging to that last shred of light that kept you anchored to your code, to your identity.

The man let you go slowly, aware of the tension between you, of the thin thread he was weaving between desire and temptation. He moved back slightly, never breaking eye contact, his smile faintly triumphant, as if he knew the battle was won, but the war between you was far from over. “Until then, I hope you enjoy your days with me as my guest,” he murmured, making you shiver. And as he walked away, you stood there, your heart still in turmoil, your emotions bubbling inside you. You quickly recovered from that moment of fragility, only to look at him with a sharp gaze. “Days?” you hissed as you watched him extinguish the fire that had been cooking the food he had been tasting only moments before. “The ship has sustained severe damage, and before it’s properly repaired, I’ll need a few days, if not weeks,” he said calmly and placidly as he took two bowls, filling the first with what looked like soup. “Weeks…” you whispered, swallowing, and then you watched the man. “I don’t have weeks. I need to find my sister.” You declared, advancing with a purposeful step, as if this might intimidate him. “Mae? You don’t need to find her.” he said with that soft voice, his eyes now shining with an unexpectedly delicate and sad calm. The atmosphere suddenly grew heavier, as if those words were laden with a weight you couldn’t yet fully comprehend. You stopped a step away from him, the stranger’s words echoing in your mind like a challenge. His calm tone, the apparent sweetness in his gaze, all seemed so contrasting with the darkness you knew was inside him. It had to be a mask, one of many he wore to get what he wanted. “I don’t need to find her?” you repeated, your tone sarcastic, looking at him as if you wanted to pierce through his deceptively gentle demeanor. The man offered you the bowl with the same calmness he had spoken, as if the entire situation was under his complete control.

“She’s dead.” His words were like a sharp blade that cut through every certainty and security you had left. The world around you seemed to stop, every sound fading as if it had been sucked into a silent vortex. The bowl of food he offered you seemed unreal, an absurd gesture amidst the horror you were experiencing.

That word echoed in your mind, bouncing like a distorted echo. Dead… Dead? Chaos began to spread in your head, a storm of pain and disbelief that overwhelmed you without warning. Your vision blurred, and the world seemed to wobble beneath your feet. It couldn’t be true. Not Mae. Not your sister, your other half, the only person who had always supported you, whom you would have given anything to protect despite the distance that had separated you two over time. She couldn’t be dead… not her Your mind refused to accept it. You felt your breath falter, as if the weight of the air had become unbearable. A lump tightened in your throat, preventing you from speaking, from shouting at him, at the entire universe for that unbearable cruelty. Pain enveloped you, an unrelenting wave that slowly suffocated you as you tried to breathe but couldn’t find the air.

“You’re lying,” you managed to whisper, staring at the floor, still incredulous. A part of you wanted to deny it, to fight against reality. But another part, darker and more destructive, knew it was true. You already felt that emptiness inside you, a chasm widening more and more. The man watched you in silence, his gaze becoming more serious, almost reflective. Perhaps, for a moment, he realized he had inflicted too deep a wound, that he had unleashed a pain even he hadn’t anticipated. “I saw her…” he said in a strangely gentle lower voice, a note of empathy contrasting with his dark nature. It almost seemed like he was trying to reach out to you in that moment of tearing anguish, as if, somehow, he could understand the storm that was devouring you from within. But even his calm seemed calculated, a hand extended into the darkness but with a precise purpose. “You killed her.” Your voice trembled with firmness, but there was no hesitation in the words. It should have been a question, but it came from your lips like a condemnation. A final sentence you had already assigned him, as if it were the only possible answer.

The air in the cave grew thicker, everything around you seemed to fade, the cold rock of the cave beneath your feet, all becoming indistinct. The only sound reaching you was the accelerated beat of your heart, echoing in your ears. The stranger remained still, his gaze fixed on you. For a moment, a flicker of compassion crossed his face, but he quickly masked it with the impassive calm that seemed to be a part of him. “No,” he replied slowly, his tone calm and measured. “It wasn’t me.” He paused, as if choosing his next words carefully, watching your reaction with unsettling precision. “The Jedi.” “You’re a fucking liar” you hissed, your voice sharp as a blade. Each word was laced with poison as the pain inside you twisted like a wounded beast. You felt your mind scream against the lie, the disdain for him consuming you.

He didn’t react immediately, his gaze softening slightly, as if he understood the chaos you were going through. Perhaps, you thought, he was enjoying the torment he had unleashed, like a patient predator waiting for the right moment to strike. Slowly, without breaking eye contact, he sighed slightly, his face stoic, cold, and aware. “What do you think a Jedi does when they encounter a Sith who doesn’t bow to their commands?” His voice was a cutting whisper, like a sharp blade sliding across skin. The tone left no room for doubt: he was trying to dismantle your certainties, to confront you with a reality you had avoided, he wasn’t lying. “Sol said they would judge her… it’s not possible that—” you started to stammer, the words tangled in your turmoil.

“He killed her? Just because he’s your master, do you think he wouldn’t lie for a greater good?” He interrupted you with a coldness and frankness that seemed to penetrate your bones. “Do you think you would have followed him if he had told you that your sister’s fate was already decided?” His words hit like punches, shattering your ordered thoughts. Each word seemed to reveal a new uncomfortable truth, a missing piece in the puzzle forming in your mind. “You were a Jedi. You should know their tactics, their lies.” His voice was relentless, a cold whisper seeping into the deepest recesses of your being. “Think about it, y/n… why would I kill my pupil?” With a fluid gesture, he set the bowl aside, his gaze admiring your growing realization. Your knees gave way, and you collapsed to the ground, overwhelmed, forgetting the pain from your wounds. Your eyes filled with tears as you tried to understand the truth that was unfolding. Pain and confusion mingled, as the image of your sister, what you had lost, became clearer in your mind. The image of Sol, the master you had admired, was cracking, becoming something monstrous, something cold. You felt betrayed by the person you trusted most. The reality you had believed to be secure crumbled around you, as a cold tear traced down your face.

“I am not the enemy,” he said, his voice low and warm, but his tone was a mix of persuasion and understanding. “The Jedi betrayed you, they killed your sister… They lied to you, used you for their grand game.” Your mind struggled to push back his words, but they seemed to have a cruel and devastating sense. The pain you felt in your chest was nowhere near the anger and fire burning inside you. “I offer you freedom,” His words resonated like a dark chant, promising an escape from torment, a freedom that seemed as alluring as it was dangerous. His hand, offered with an almost elegant grace, was reflected in the dim light of the cave, creating a contrast with the darkness surrounding you. “I offer you revenge.”

Slowly raising your face to look at the man, you felt the world around you blur into an indistinct gray, as if your very existence was suspended between light and darkness. His face was a mask of calm, but your eyes, now glassy and full of pain, sought to grasp that gesture, that palm offered like a lifeline in a stormy sea. The pain of losing your sister, the betrayal you had just discovered, mixed with a growing awareness of how your life had always been manipulated. Every memory, every lesson you had followed, now seemed to question the meaning of your existence.

His words seeped into your mind, tempting you with the promise of revenge that you so deeply desired. His gaze, now so close to yours, was laden with an almost irresistible persuasion. Your trembling hand slowly reached out towards his, the idea of giving in to the dark side, of finding a way to channel your pain and anger, was seductive. But you also knew that accepting this offer meant abandoning everything you had believed in, everything you had fought for in vain. Justice, peace, impartiality… Yet, as you looked at him, the inner torment was palpable. Every fiber of your being screamed against this choice, but the temptation was strong, like a flame threatening to consume you. The moment your hand neared his was charged with palpable tension. Every movement seemed to slow down, as if time itself was holding its breath waiting for your decision. His words were a soft seduction, a call drawing you towards an unknown abyss, and your mind was torn between desperation and the desire for revenge.

As your hand approached his, an inner resistance made its way through you. You stopped your trembling hand just a few millimeters from his, as a wave of awareness and pain overwhelmed you. You swallowed hard and took a deep breath, closing your hand into a fist and withdrawing it from the Sith's. You felt a crushing weight in your chest, as new tears threatened to streak down your face. You pulled your knees to your chest, trying to shield yourself from the seductive temptation of revenge that was corrupting your mind. Your mind closed in on itself, a desperate refuge against the pain. It was an act of self-defense amidst the storm that Mae's death had unleashed.

The man, observing your refusal and your attempt to cling to that side of light, moved closer with a mixture of respect and understanding. He knelt before you, his intense and deep gaze almost as if he was peering into your soul. "What wonderful creatures we are…" he murmured, his tone reflective and tinged with a sort of fascinating sadness, as he placed two fingers under your chin, gently lifting it to make you look into his eyes. "Even in the revelation of the betrayal we have suffered, seeing the depth of our despair, we refuse to betray what has hurt us the most." His observation was both a compliment and a critique, a recognition of your resilience and a reflection on your internal struggle. You sighed deeply, your gaze now seemingly devoid of emotion, dimmed. "A special bond, isn't it?" he continued, watching you with an expression of admiration. "Between a master and his pupil." His words seemed laden with a sort of melancholic respect, almost as if recalling memories of his own, as if he understood your loyalty and your pain.

The man rose slowly, with a graceful and measured movement. His figure, elegant and imposing, stood out against the dim light of the cave, which seemed to illuminate almost naturally. With a nearly hypnotic calm, he approached the bowl he had set aside earlier, his gaze never leaving you. There was something surprisingly caring in his demeanor, a disturbing contrast to his previous coldness and stoicism. He looked at you as he took the bowl and approached you again, his physical presence emanating a kind of warmth, but now it seemed almost like a protective gesture. The bowl was still warm, the aroma of the soup wafting from inside was rich and inviting, yet you could only feel the weight of your grief.

"You should eat, or you’ll never feel better." the Sith said, his voice low and soft, with an undertone of concern you had never heard before. The tone was gentle, almost paternal, and his gaze was filled with genuine worry for you as he offered you the bowl. His hands were steady as he presented the food, as if the gesture itself was a demonstration of his intention to care for you. "I'm not hungry," you replied in a whisper, your determination to refuse his offer now a sign of pure and sincere sadness that held your appetite hostage. The feline-eyed man, however, did not seem inclined to yield. His expression changed, revealing a slight hint of frustration but also gentle determination. "Don’t make me force you to eat," he said, his voice growing firmer and harder, but maintaining that slight caring quality. He swallowed, clearing his throat as he moved closer. He knelt beside you, lowering his body to be at eye level with you. It seemed that every action of his was calculated to elicit a response, to persuade you to give in to his sincere desire to help you. His hands, as they offered you the bowl, were warm and gentle, contrasting with the coldness of your emotional state.

“I don’t want to force you,” he continued, his tone almost pleading, softer. “But you need to help yourself heal. I can’t let you destroy yourself. Not now, not after everything you’ve been through.” His concern for you was palpable, a stark contrast to the image of a heartless Sith. There was a tenderness in his gestures that seemed more easily associated with the behavior of two lovers, an inexplicable concern for you. You watched him for a few seconds, your heart a tumult of emotions, fighting a war you had always been careful not to create. The bowl was now there, in your hands, placed by that man whose name you didn’t even know. His gaze was kind, as if with just one word from you, he would have done anything. At that moment, he seemed like the only point of reference in a sea of confusion and pain.

“I don’t trust you,” you stated, your voice sharp and determined, as if every word was a barrier erected against any attempt to get closer. You felt that every word of his was a trap, a well-orchestrated game to break down your defenses. Yet, despite your contempt, there was something in his way of speaking to you that made it difficult to ignore him completely. “You are the reason they killed her. You are the reason for all of this.” The man sighed and then offered you a light, friendly smile. His face was now relaxed again, while in his eyes there was an inexplicable spark. “You’re right not to trust me,” he calmly replied, his voice soft and enveloping, while he slightly tilted his head in a gesture that seemed almost affectionate. “But trust your instincts.” His posture was relaxed. “Why would I want to hurt you after I saved you, healed you, and fed you? My aim, y/n, is not to destroy you.” His tone was sincere, and although you could sense a subtle manipulation, his words had a strong echo of truth. You wondered what he really wanted from you, but you had neither the time nor the inclination to delve deeper into the apparent kindness. Yet, every one of his actions still felt like a trap, an intricate mind game designed to break down your defenses.

For a few minutes, the silence between you became heavy, every word spoken seemed like a hammer blow on a glass wall. Your gaze landed for a second on the bowl in your hands. He wasn’t entirely wrong; after all, he had gone out of his way to save you when he didn’t have to, he had healed your wounds, taken care of you during your recovery, and now he had even cooked something warm to help you get back on your feet. You were the one being harsh at the moment. If he really had wanted to hurt you, he wouldn’t have hesitated—after all, you were injured and weak. With a quieter tone, but full of palpable unease, you spoke to him. “What’s your name?” you asked. Your voice was almost a whisper in the wind, broken but determined. The man raised his eyes, a shadow of curiosity in them. “I don’t have a name,” his tone was warm and harmonious, almost reassuring. “Qimir, call me Qimir,” he simply replied, once he saw the confusion in your gaze, with a tone that seemed almost intimate and sweet.

He slowly stood up from the ground, turning toward the exit. His shoulders were tense, but his step, like his demeanor, was elegant and measured as he walked away from you. He left you alone with your thoughts and the chaos of your emotions. With one last glance at you, he gently closed the door behind him. The metallic sound of the door closing echoed in the cave like a reminder of the solitude that now surrounded you. Inside the cave, there was a deep and absolute silence that would last only a short time.

Qimir leaned his back against the cold surface of the door, his breathing heavy and controlled as a weight inside him, at the height of his heart, grew heavier. The echoes of your sobs and tears penetrated through the door, and he remained there, motionless, listening to every single sound with closed eyes. The mask of tranquility and stoicism fell from his face with unprecedented speed, giving way to concern as he ached for your suffering. He tried to bury his concern for you with the pain of losing his own apprentice. But your crying was a heartbreaking melody, a stifled, silent cry of anguish that reflected in every sob and tear that streamed down your face. You were breaking, you needed to release the storm you had inside, clutching your hand to your heart. Inside the cave, the sound of your muffled sobs filled the air, your trembling hands gripping your skin, digging your nails into your flesh, trying to find comfort in the pain itself. You could feel the bond with your sister fading more and more, slowly, like a shadow that moves in the dying sun, fading into the darkness of the night

Qimir stayed there, sitting on the ground with his head resting against the door, his back rigid as he listened to the pain pouring into the room. Your stifled screams, the sobs, the sound of your crying that filled the air were tormenting him, but he knew your pride would prevent any form of vulnerability in front of him. Yet, as he listened to you, a part of him inexplicably found itself wanting to come in, to offer you a word of comfort, to share at least a fragment of that pain. He saw in you the same resilience he had seen in his old apprentice, reflected in your eyes and your voice, in your face. Mae, with her love for you and the pain of your separation, had spoken to him about you so much that he felt he knew you on an almost intimate level, even though you had never really met him before then. He realized that even though his affection for you was partly artificial, born from Mae’s words and his reflections, he was genuinely concerned for you. He wanted you to find some peace, to be able to face your grief without feeling judged or threatened by his unfamiliar presence, allowing you to mourn both your loss and his.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Notes :

My beloved flowers, let me know if you like the story. Thank you for the support with the likes and reblogs, they help a lot my work and the commitment I put into it. <3

-Mel

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔　　　. 　　˚　　　　*　　　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚

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thelightsandtheroses · 1 year

Text

Secret Smile: Tangled Webs (Chapter Four)

Secret Smile | Javier Peña x female reader

Summary: Before returning to Colombia to get things right this time, Javi’s childhood best friend asks him to keep an eye out for his sister while they’re both stationed in the embassy. Only you don’t need Javier to keep an eye you her. Your role as a new legal advisor is all about keeping an eye on him after all. Sparks fly, lines will be drawn and broken and there’s everything to lose.

Word Count: 2.7k Chapter Warnings: 18+ blog, language, reader has a nickname (Blue) but no physical descriptors used Author Notes: As always, thank you for all your feedback, likes and reblogs so far – it means a lot and I’m having so much fun writing this fic. I’d love to know what you think of this next chapter so please feel free to comment, reblog or even send an ask!

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“Did you hear about the senators?” Javi asks you as you slide his office door shut behind you and immediately make a beeline for the black leather couch.

“I did,” you say, taking a long gulp of coffee and then trying to mask your scowl. Instant. Not your favourite. It’s better than nothing, or at least that’s what you’re trying to convince yourself. If you’re tired enough and add enough milk and sugar then it’s almost palatable. It’s better than the coffee at your last office at least, not that that is a particularly high bar. You’re not sure it could even legally be classed as coffee at your last office.

After you impulsively turned up at his apartment, Javi and you have started to work out a tentative peace. Maybe he’s realised that you want real justice too, that you also need to bring these people to account. You want to help him do this the right way.

The two of you spent part of the evening brainstorming ways to move the case forward, trying to find a route that wouldn’t directly compromise the surrender agreement in progress yet, but would allow Javi to pursue real consequences.

Money.

No matter how much you try, it eventually will leave a trail. You’d been told by a colleague about a banking glitch abroad that led to right here in Bogota. This might be the lucky break that could help Javi right now. The two of you have agreed that Javi should use this to obtain the data he needs on who is behind the money for the cartel. If he gets this, it will help him solidify the case and get some strong evidence too.

“So, the Clinton list? You’re going ahead with that option?” you ask. It’s the simplest way to get the bank to work with Javi and technically it’s by the book.

“I’ve already asked Stoddard to get onto that,” Javi says.

“Okay, so now you’re just showing off that you have a team.”

Javi tilts his head before asking with an innocent voice, “Oh, do you not?”

You finish crumpling up a piece of paper and throw it at him. He catches it, cocking an eyebrow with a mischievous expression.

“Really, resorting to violence now, are we, Blue? Assaulting an attaché?”

“Only people from home have ever called me that,” you say softly, “it’s kind of weird hearing it again.”

“Does it bother you then?”

“No … it’s nice, I think.”

“Do you miss Laredo?” he asks, a strange expression on his face.

“I don’t know. Sometimes. Maybe a little, but not as much as I think I should. I miss some of the people; my friends, Sofia, Rafa, my parents. I just don’t - I don’t know, I always wanted to get out and be in a city or a new place, to explore and not be in a small town. Do you know what I mean?”

“I’m the same.” He pauses and looks ahead with a thoughtful expression.

“It’s kind of weird though, that we’re both here at the same time” you add, ”I have a friend who is really into fate and superstitions and horoscopes -“

Javi snorts at the mention of horoscopes and you shake your head at him.

“Anyway, she talks a lot about kismet - fate and destiny and all that. Maybe that’s why we’re both here. We can stop Cali together.”

“That would be nice.”

There’s a strange tension in the air for a minute, Javi’s staring at you like he’s never seen you before and his expression is otherwise unreadable.

He exhales deeply and then says, “I’m meeting the bank as soon as I’m done with the senators and the bank already know what I’m coming with so they should have something for me when I get there.”

“Okay.”

“I’ve got a contact; they might know whoever the money person is. Tomorrow - tomorrow we get them.”

“Good. And what about your agents you authorised to go to Cali, without uh - any approval? Thanks for that by the way, loved the grilling from the ambassador. He was so incensed he didn’t even wait until 9am to summon me.”

“They’re heading out this morning. Feistl got a warrant ready, just in case,” Javi says. “I’m still not sure if we can trust - it’s worth a try though.”

“That’s good, I’m glad he got the warrant.” That makes your job easier, you think, less likely to cause another drama with the ambassador. If their visit does turn up something, they’re prepared and with a warrant ready they can quickly act. You’re learning that timing is everything for the DEA.

“I’ll be reminding them when we speak- everything by the book,” he says with a wry smile.

“Good. Do you think you can trust the local police?”

“I don’t think I can trust anybody, Blue.”

“Even me?” you ask, hurt permeating your voice. You look down at the floor in embarrassment.

Javi trusts a local journalist more than he trusts you at the moment. He’s supposed to know you. He’s known you for years.

“I want to,” he says quietly. “Do you trust me?”

You pause, exhaling heavily. “I want to as well.”

Javi’s office falls silent. You can hear the muffled hum of noise around the glass walls, people arriving for their day of work.

“Are you going to the big meeting then when they arrive?”

Javi pulls a face. “I have to. You?”

“Oh, no. That’s for the extra special boys’ club, Javi, I’m not invited to that.” You don’t mean to sound bitter; you’re not even surprised and your job is far less glamorous sounding than Javi’s anyway. Accountability and legal motions aren’t the sexiest of discussion topics.

“Count yourself lucky. Besides, it’s their loss. You’re smarter than Stechner and Crosby.”

“Why, that might be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me,” you say with an overly sweet voice, watching Javi roll his eyes in response.

“Don’t get used to it,” Javi says, a lopsided smirk on his face.

The damn phone has no signal out here.

Javi had a plan. Get Jurado, make his case, do it by the book. The plane was ready, he was ready. Then Stechner came along, those stupid VIP guests came along.

Now he’s sweating through his shirt in the middle of the jungle in uncomfortable shoes and desperate for a cigarette.

Fuck the gum.

No one could have endured that helicopter flight, had to deal with damn idiots trying to talk over the headphones and helicopter noise, without needing a cigarette.

Besides quitting smoking was meant to be a signal. The new and improved Javier Peña, getting it right this time and taking down a cartel. Only the past can’t be ignored. No one will let him forget; they rarely explicitly accuse him, but too many people know what Javi did. Too many people still judge him for that, even Captain Hernandez.

Javi told Steve once that sometimes you had to do bad things to catch bad people.

Maybe he was wrong.

Maybe he’s only made things worse.

He just can’t seem to get it right.

Javi breaks from his reverie, holds his phone up one more time.

Javi has no idea what’s happening with Feistl and Van Ness, no clue whether Stoddard has been able to get anywhere with Panama. He’s not sure if you’re helping. He’s still not sure if he can trust you, as much as he wants to.

Javi can’t be here.

He can’t be part of this charade; play the role of a hero, pretend that this isn’t a giant set-up. What’s Stechner thinking with this?

Javi hears a noise, looks around and sees the army liaison who Stechner had introduced to the senators earlier.

Javi looks exhausted when you finally see him again. More than that, he’s more visibly frustrated and annoyed than you’ve ever seen him before.

Linda had told you that the senators had insisted he join them on their visit, whether he wanted to or not. You knew how much Javi had prepared for the day. The senators wanted to hear from a ‘real life hero’ though and they could control the DEA’s money for this mission. You can only imagine how delighted Javi had been with the whole sorry mess.

You hadn’t quite expected him to return like this though.

When he left the office in the morning, he had been focused, motivated, and smartly dressed. Now, you notice his shoes are covered in dirt and mud; that they look ruined. The difference isn’t just his clothes, there’s something changed in his eyes, something you can’t identify but you know that don’t want to ever see in him again.

“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes? You really went on a day trip to the rainforest in your best shoes?” you ask sweetly. “The attaché salaries must be even better than I thought.”

“Don’t. Don’t even fucking go there, Blue.”

“I’m trying really hard to take your threat seriously, but Javi have you looked at yourself?”

Javi stands up straight. “You heard then? I was meant to go to fucking Panama, had the plane and everything ready.”

“The senators and Stechner had other ideas, I’m afraid.”

“It was a goddamn joke, Blue.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It was a setup. Nothing was real - just a show, like this whole damn thing is. This - this is all bullshit.”

You’re not sure how to reply to that and instead awkwardly fidget with the paper file you were organising.

“Stoddard said it didn’t go anywhere with Jurado.” Javi’s whole body sinks into the office chair next to your desk and he pinches his brow.

“Nope,” he says, each syllable clearly pronounced.

“Shit.”

“Yep.”

“So, did Feistl and Van Ness come up with anything?” you ask, hoping that things aren’t entirely lost for Javi’s investigation.

“They did. The police are keeping it all though. They think there might be another angle, but fuck.” Javi shakes his head.

You lean against his desk and look down at the floor, trying to bring to mind some comforting words, the right thing to say. You don’t know what to do. There’s no simple solution here; no sudden legal clause or clever argument you can pull out to make everything better and get what you need back in evidence or convince a jury. This is all so different to what you are used to; a side of investigations and cases you’ve never seen before.

“So, where are we left?” you ask, thinking aloud. “Jurado’s not an option until we can find out where he is. We need to - maybe your guys will come up with something in Cali, in the paperwork. I’ll call the police in the morning, see if I can do anything to help us get some of the evidence.”

“You think that’ll work?”

“I think I’m a very convincing person, Javi.”

“Oh, I’m sure you are, Blue. Thing is, I’m not sure -” he pauses, leans back against the couch, “I don’t think we can trust the police contact Feistl and Van Ness are with. Not from what they’ve told me anyway.”

You think about his words, the small details you’ve heard from Stoddard today. “I think you’re right. They’re holding back on the evidence. Truthfully. they’re not going to work together with us easily. I mean, the rumour is the Rodriguez brothers own half of Cali anyway, right? It would make sense. We - your guys need to proceed with caution. There are things we can do, ways to protect this work and keep the case robust.”

You shake your head at his expression, place the paperwork file down on his desk. “We’ll sort it tomorrow; things will be better then.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, so don’t stay too late, Javi, it’s been a long day.”

“Wait, can I ask you a question?”

“If I was being mean, I’d say you just did,” you reply, folding your arms around you.

“Really, Blue? Okay, why don’t you want people to know we knew each other before the job? Is it me or -” Javi trails off and you wonder what happened during the trip to the jungle that prompted this.

You meet Javi’s gaze to try and read his expression. He looks almost guilty, as though he thinks you’re ashamed of knowing him. That doesn’t make sense because he’s Javi; he’s the hero of the DEA according to almost everyone. Stechner’s words and insinuations echo in your mind, the hints at what Javi may have done before, how desperate he was to get Escobar. Part of you doesn’t blame him for wanting to pursue justice - you can understand that desire, even if you don’t agree with what he was rumoured to have done.

If the rumours are true, it explains a lot about Javi now.

“No, it’s not you,” you say, taking a deep breath before you continue, “It’s the situation. It’s messy. I was technically recommended for this job by a friend and it is bad enough that the ambassador knows that. If it got around that you are my brother’s best friend? I got this job on my own merits and I-”

“Woah, woah, I didn’t say anything about how you got this job. I don’t even know how you got this job. Frankly I didn’t know there even was a job until you turned up.“

“I really thought you hated me for that.”

“Not you, Blue. Don’t hate you.”

“You wouldn’t have had to say anything about me getting this job. People make assumptions all the time. I’ve dealt with it my whole career, especially as I moved up, and I just wanted here to be different.” You needed here to be different. After everything that had went down in DC, this job was supposed to be a fresh start, an escape from everything you’d run away from. Only you’re rapidly wondering if you’ve jumped from the frying pan into the fire instead.

“I can understand that,” Javi finally says softly.

“It’s that one time that it really is me and not you,” you add with a grin.

“So, Blue, am I really Rafael’s best friend?” Javi asks with a crooked smile.

“If you ever tell him I told you that, I will kill you.”

“Promises, promises.”

You shake your head and look at Javi for a moment before saying, “I really should go, Javi. See you tomorrow.”

Stoddard knocks on the glass door and you quickly move off Javi’s desk, cross your arms as he walks over to his desk and waves Stoddard in.

“Sir, we may have a problem. Feistl and Van Ness weren’t on their flight back.”

“Fuck.”

You look at Javi’s alarmed face and take a slow breath.

“Okay, have you tried to call them, Stoddard? No, then go do that!” Javi says.

”Maybe - maybe they caught a lead, Agent Peña. I can call someone at Cali, see if we can subtly make enquiries,” you say softly.

Javi nods and you hear him firmly instructing Stoddard on exactly what to do.

“Guess we’re not heading back right now then,” you say once it’s just the two of you in his office, both of you standing by his desk.

“Fucking Feistl,” Javi says, leaning his hands against the edge of the desk so you can see the hint of strained shoulder muscles beneath his shirt.

“You chose him to go to Cali,” you say lightly.

Javi sighs, stands up straight as he pinches his brow. “Technically he was just the only one who asked.”

“Oh, that’s brilliant, Javi.”

“Hey, at he least showed some initiative.”

“Wonderful. Perhaps he’s showing that initiative now.”

“Go home, it’s late. I’ll clean up here, stay and see if they call.”

“Javi -”

“This part is my job, Blue, not yours. I’ve got it covered.”

“Okay. Promise you’ll call if you need anything? You have my phone and my pager, right?”

You squeeze Javi’s shoulder as you make a move to pick up your handbag, watch him start to organise the papers strewn on his desk.

Before you can leave the office, Javi’s office phone rings. You meet his eyes as he quickly answers.

“Peña,” he says. You carefully try and read his reaction, try to notice the way his face slightly relaxes before he asks, “Where the fuck have you been?”

When he hangs up the phone, he looks up at you with a smile.

“You were right.”

“I often am,” you joke breezily, “So, what was I right about?”

”They caught a lead.”

You smile broadly. “Oh, really?”

“We can get Gilberto Rodriguez. They found him.”

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#javier peña x female reader #javier peña x reader #javier peña x you #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena x reader #javier pena x female reader #narcos fanfiction #javi pena x you #javi pena #javier pena #javi peña fanfiction #javier peńa #javier pena x you #*secret smile

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thethirdromana · 1 year

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Kerr Avon's costumes, rated

The sequel to Romana II's costumes, rated, here by popular* request! (*maybe not very popular.)

Screengrabs from here (copied rather than linked per their FAQs). Invaluable record of what Avon actually wears in which episode from here. I haven't included overcoats, spacesuits, or anything Avon doesn't actively choose to wear, like prison clothes. Which means that rating this monstrosity

is left as an exercise for the reader.

I've also not done every single variation on black jackets with studded panels, even when they are technically different black jackets with studded panels, because otherwise we'd be here all night.

As seen in Space Fall and Cygnus Alpha.

Ugh. It's fine. The heights of bonkersness that Blake's 7 costume design would reach are not even really hinted at here. It's a perfectly reasonable outfit - grey shirt, grey trousers, grey tabard-thing. Add a name badge and Avon could be stocking shelves in a fancy supermarket. I'll allow that it does look comfortable, which will not be a theme of much else on this list. 5/10.

As seen in Time Squad.

I don't hate the brown patchwork thing (though brown is rightly Blake's colour), but what's going on with the larger square over his stomach? I feel like he's about to do some welding or something and it's there to protect his clothes, but it is his clothes. Avon only wore this outfit once, and who can blame him? 2/10.

As seen in The Web, Seek-Locate-Destroy, Mission to Destiny, Duel, Project Avalon, Breakdown, and Deliverance.

I think this one may have suffered from the passage of time. Because I look at it and think, why has Avon chosen to dress like an old-fashioned stereo system? But from the vantage point of 1978, I guess Avon had chosen to dress like a decidedly modern stereo system. Look at those rounded corners, he could be a first-gen iPod. And the matching grey of collar and cuffs is a nice touch. None of this answers the question of why he has buttons across his tits, but there are some things that are not for us to know. 8/10.

As seen in Bounty and Orac.

Oooh, green. Green is a nice change. And if you're watching Blake's 7 and you're enjoying those green sleeves, you'd better make the most of them, because other than one very notable exception, this is the last time that Avon wears an outfit that isn't brown, white, black or shades of grey for the entire rest of the series. The rest of it looks a bit like someone's Star Trek Discovery uniform cosplay got out of hand. 6/10, because green.

As seen in Redemption and Killer.

Obviously, this is a classic. And full marks to Paul Darrow for wearing a costume that was literally bought from a sex shop and making it look like something that anyone might wear to their normal day of fighting oppression and engaging in homoerotic tension. 10/10.

As seen in Shadow, Horizon, Gambit, and Children of Auron.

OK fine I threw away the term "classic" too soon, this is the true classic, the time Avon decided to dress as a thermal blanket and then pair that with thigh-high boots. ICONIC. What I love about this is aside from being batshit, it's actually kind of a nice outfit? I imagine that shiny fabric was absolute hell to work with but the gathering at the shoulders means it hangs surprisingly well.

It also gains at least 5 bonus points for featuring in this, one of my all-time favourite Blake's 7 moments:

I wish I could find it as a gif, but you'll just have to join me in pretending these images are moving instead. And in heaving a nostalgic sigh for the era when men were allowed to have normal bodies on TV. 15/10.

As seen in Shadow.

I've tried to go for just one main outfit per episode, because this is already very long and we're only about halfway through. But I had to make an exception for matching! outfits! And all the better for being an outfit that looks great on all three of them. I only wish that Avon could have had some silver boots like Jenna is wearing, I think it would really have completed the look. 9/10.

As seen in Weapon, Pressure Point, Countdown, and Dawn of the Gods.

In some ways, this costume is quite practical. Avon is wearing something not a million miles from bikers' leathers here, and the quilted part of the chest and back would presumably offer him a bit of protection if he got into a fight. But also, it's the colour and style of a brothel sofa, and there's no way in hell he could wear this and retain the ability to lift his arms above his head.

God, I love this show. 10/10.

As seen in Trial, Hostage, Voice From the Past, The Keeper, Star One, Aftermath, and Powerplay.

I have less to say about this because - and I mean this in full tribute to the Blake's 7 costume designers - it's just a nice jacket! It stays in keeping with the design trends we see throughout the series, with panels of different fabrics, and spacewear shiny silver bits, but ultimately you could wear this on the street today and no one would give you a second look. I quite like that about it. 8/10.

As seen Aftermath. (And the loose black shirt in Voice From the Past is similar too).

Maybe this is just my mid-00s goth-adjacent phase showing through, but I am, and always will be, a sucker for a man in this kind of shirt. 8/10, please don't make me justify this further.

As seen in Volcano and Rumours of Death.

The first of many similar black outfits, where I'm going to be selective or this will get tedious very quickly. I think this is the best of them; after this, the 80s started up in earnest, and Avon's shoulders were never allowed to be their natural width again. 9/10.

As seen in The Harvest of Kairos.

My parents haven't been camping in years, but somewhere in the attic they still have an old tent, which lives in a bag that looks a lot like this outfit. As if I needed any more reasons to dislike The Harvest of Kairos. 1/10.

As seen in Ultraworld.

Avon what are you doing. Brown is not your colour. I think I might headcanon that this is Blake's jacket, because aside from the brownness it also seems to be a fair bit too big for Avon. After a couple of seasons of squeezing him into the lobster outfit and other tight leather things, the costume designers seem to have swerved hard into boxy shapes from this point onwards. I disapprove. Honestly, I was going to skip this one except that I love what Dayna is wearing. Wish Avon could have some of that energy. 2/10.

As seen in Death-Watch.

Let's pause for a second, look to the left, and appreciate that Dayna is wearing another fabulous outfit. Now let's take a deep breath, and look at the utter monstrosity that Avon is wearing. Like a matador crossed with a bumper car. 0/10.

As seen in Rescue, Power, Traitor, Stardrive, Animals, Headhunter, Orbit, Warlord, and Blake.

Avon wears some kind of black jacket with studs for nearly all of season D, but I've picked this as the definitive one. I don't know if there's some kind of clever character development thing going on here with how big this costume is, like Avon is expanding into his leadership role, but weighed down by the responsibility too. It could be deliberate, it could just be what fashion was like in the early 80s.

What I do know is that however meaningful this costuming might be, it's not flattering. 5/10, and Avon finishes the series, sadly, no better dressed than he began it.

#blake's 7 #costuming #kerr avon #paul darrow #i'm game for doing Servalan next though tbh i'd prefer Jenna so i can look at some actual colours

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4rainynite · 1 year

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EAH Dorm Rooms Headcanon pt 1

Apple & Raven's Dorm.

One's a princess who's loyal to her destiny, while the other princess is rebellious and fighting for a cause.

Throughout the series we've seen Apple & Raven's room the most since they're the main characters. but let's dive in a little more.

It's obvious that Raven and Apple have different styles as Raven's style would be associated with the gothic subculture and Apple would be associated with the preppy subculture. Apple's main colors are red, white, and gold (and sometimes pink) and her motifs are apples, bows, and pearls. Raven's main colors are purple, black, and grey/silver (and sometimes turquoises) and her motifs are birds/feathers, chains, and scales. Also, their main colors are Ever After High school's color and their alliances purple for the Rebels and red for the Royals.

Mirrors seem to be one of the things that unites the two girls. Think about it, in the Snow White story it was a magic mirror that told the Evil Queen who was the fairest. Throughout the dorm mirrors are shown on both sides (heck, there're tiny mirrors on Raven's slippers). Throughout history mirrors have been used to reflect what we see and who we want to see. And during the book and web series mirrors have been used during important story lines for example: Headmaster Grimm hearing the Evil Queen laugh, Apple using the mirror net to spy on Raven (consent much?), how the Evil Queen spies on others (Ugh, privacy!), mirrorpads, mirrorphones, mirror prison, the booking glass in Dragon Games, etc. Mirrors are important in the EAH world.

From what is stated on Apple's card (under Apple's side) the room she and Raven share is the largest dorm room (in the girls' dorm) reserved for epic tales. Seeing how the Headmaster plays favorites I'm surprise he didn't give this room to Apple first. But maybe he doesn't assign the rooms and as long as the character is from an epic tale: evil, good, or neutral they can have it!

Apple's side: Apple is a Royal both in alliance and birthright. Apple aspires to be the perfect queen and her dorm room reflects it. Honestly, don't tell me this wasn't the bedroom you wanted when you were five-years-old and in your princess phase.

From what I read in the books Apple's furniture consists of: redwood furniture, canopy, gilded chairs and wardrobe. Only the best for a future queen!

Apple lives and breathes the princess lifestyle and not just because she is one, she works hard for it. She's also very studious as she is one of the few students with the top grades so whenever she's not checking herself in the mirror she is studying, reading, or preparing for future school events.

Apple cares deeply about her looks and her magic talking mirror helps her both in fashion and in confidence. I love the irony that Apple spends more time consulting a magic mirror than Raven.

Though it was never seen in the show Apple did receive a jewelry box similar to Raven's. The jewelry Apple may keep in there are probably pearls, rubies, mini crowns, and apple barrettes since that is what she usually wears.

In the Getting Fairiest line Apple has a nightstand where she places her crown while getting ready for an event or sleeping. It was never shown in the webseries, but we did see Briar's nightstand where she keeps her sunglasses (will show when it's Briar's turn) and them seem to be larger than the toy version.

Apple's Fainting Couch has been seen in a few episodes, sadly we never saw her use it. Which is a bummer because, picture this:

Apple laying on her fainting couch writing in her diary WITH HER GLASSES ON! Suddenly, the door knocks and Apple scrambles to put her glasses in the secret compartment and looking very awkward hiding them. That could've been a running gag, we were robbed of that and seeing Apple in her glasses! Plus, the embroidered apple pillow is so cute!

It wasn't seen during Dragon Games, I'll let it pass since the animators were probably busy and we're human we forget stuff. I also believe that Apple keeps her diary in the storage of the fainting couch.

Seeing how she and Raven have the biggest dorm (in the girls' dorm) of course Apple would have a closet and a dresser to fit all her luxurious clothes. But, sometimes the closet isn't there in some scene. My theory is that since Ever After High School is magical maybe the furniture appears when it is needed, or for example when the student is in the room the windows will appear to bring in some like. Like I said above during the Fainting Couch the animators are busy and the layouts change with each animator.

The vanity was originally Apple's desk which had a bulletin board above it. Again, layout change and the furniture appears when it is needed. I kinda like that Apple has fairy lights seeing how traditional her style is, but see does have a poster of guitar, so she may have a spark to her.

Raven Side: Even before the Rebel movement Raven had a rebellious streak in her. She questioned how her world worked, her story, and herself. Despite Raven's fashion sense matching a traditional fairy tale villain it was her choice to dress that way.

Raven's didn't originally look the way we see it now; Apple (along with Briar) redecorated her side of the dorm to resemble more of an evil queens lair. In the webseries Apple gave Raven an evil throne, an evil crown, and an evil haunted mirror (she may have added the extra mirrors), while in the book Apple put spikes on most of Raven's furniture and gave her a goblin bed sheet set. As nice as Apple was trying to make Raven feel at home, it wasn't right of her to change roommates and go through Raven's things without consent.

One thing that stands out in Raven's room is a white guitar, which gives us the idea that Raven is a music lover. One of my many headcanons is Raven's dad got her into music as a bonding activity between the two and the guitar used to be his before he passed it down to his daughter.

Personally, Raven's is my favorite room design (that we got to see) and if I had the budget, I would remodel my room like hers.

As stated above the room Briar (and Ashlynn) are currently living in the same dorm as Raven's mother (and Cerise's mom). I believe Raven lived in her mother's dorm during freedom year (freshmen year) or will live there her final year, and like many boarding schools/ colleges students don't live in the same room every year.

In the color palette it says imperial gold, but I see black in the color scheme, sure there's 'gold' in the flooring and candlelight, but maybe this was an early idea that the creators had to unite Raven and Apple in a way.

Despite being the future Evil Queen, Raven spends the least amount of time looking at herself in the mirror, gotta love irony. It was also mentioned in the book that Raven tries not to compare herself to Apple since that's what lead to her mother going off-book and vain, so she avoids them.

I believe the wide-eye girl was Brooke, which means besides Maddie and Kitty, she's the only non-Wondelander to see a narrator (lore).

We were able to see the jewelry box when Raven was getting ready for her date in 'Date Night' and an actual was available like Apple's. The jewelry we saw Raven take out of the jewelry box were mainly a silver ring and a chain necklace; so, her jewelry is mainly chains, spikes, and amythest. On the bracelet one of the charms is a potion bottle and Raven does have a potion/ bookcase (can be seen in one of the above images) that I wish we saw in use.

In the getting fairest line Raven has a nightstand where she places her high collars during the night. It wasn't seen in the show, but it's somewhere in her dorm.

We only saw glimpses of Raven's destiny vanity in the webseries. In 'Unfairest of Them All' Raven was heartbroken when Baba Yaga Hut's baby destroyed it., luckily it was rebuilt. The vanity has a built-in keyboard and a brush that looks like or doubles as a microphone. Raven is usually seen with her headphones on, listening to Taylor Quick, playing her guitar, or playing on her keyboard at her vanity. She probably spends more time making music than looking at herself.

Like Apple's diary in her fainting couch I think Raven keeps the books in the vanity's cabinets and reads them when she's alone.

The closet and evil throne (not shown) are only seen in glimpses since furniture appears when it is needed. At first I thought Raven was the only student with a fireplace in her dorm, before we saw 'Epic Winter' on Briar's side of the dorm has a fireplace as well, so I guess each dorm has a fireplace on one side of the room. To keep warm during the cold months and having two fireplaces is a bit much and a fire hazard.

At the beginning of 'Croquet Tastrophe' Apple was first seen in Raven's side of the room for some odd reason. But, wait, Apple has a mug in her hand for some reason. Which made me think Raven owns a coffee machine that she lets Apple use sometimes.

The girls do have a balcony (pretty sure everyone at the school has one) that the girls like to go out to get fresh air during times of stress and peace. In 'Apple's Princess Practice' they have a zipline which I'm pretty sure Briar set up.

Well, that's the first of the dorms, now to the next.

Images can be found here: EAH wiki, Royal&Rebelpedia, and @teatimewithmaddie .

#ever after high #everafterhigh #ever after rebel #ever after royal #eah #ever after high headcanons #raven queen #apple white #dorm room #my art

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