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stevefromupsidedown · 1 month ago

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Façade — Pt, five : the morning after • steve harrington x fem!reader

synopsis: It's imminent. They're lurking in the darkness, waiting for the perfect moment to invade Hawkins while Steve meets difficulties in his relationships. warnings: fem!reader with she/her pronouns, deaths, blood, gore and violence, references to mental health issues and low self esteem, very heavy on the angst, very little comfort, basically reader's the worst pessimist, very introspective, references to sexual themes, 18+ ONLY (overall warnings for the series, read at your own risk, don't make it my problem) This material is @takemetothelakes-poets’ property.

PT, SIX | SERIES MASTERLIST | CHAPTER PLAYLIST

Opening up her eyes, blinking a few times as she woke up from a deep sleep, she immediately felt some weight on the side of her body, and when she tilted her head, she saw a hand resting on the outside of her right thigh.

Steve’s arm was sleepily laid across her thigh and she instantly felt this pressure creeping itself on her stomach as soon as she opened her eyes, turning her head and saw that his face was close to her shoulder, he was deep asleep, by the slow rhythm of his breath and his relaxed face, it brought a wave of melancholy through her body.

Strands of his hair resting against his angelic sleepy face, if things were different, completely different, she wouldn’t feel this deep sadness, she wouldn’t feel so heartbroken.

She’s about to annihilate their hope of becoming something together.

She feels so much shame, guilt, but all she can picture, from everything that happened to them in the last couple of days, seems to be Steve’s heart eyes for Nancy in the Upside Down as they were on their way to Victor Creel’s house, all she can picture is how they were in high-school, every interactions until they were together as a couple, every kiss in the corridors, at parties, and how perfect they were and looked.. and those heart eyes as they were marching along a suicide mission.

She doesn’t acknowledge what happened the night before with Steve, no, scratch that, she doesn’t take it seriously. Even his words, talking about staying with her everyday of his life, made her wince in discomfort, he couldn’t make a promise like that, not when Vecna was still alive, the gates were out, Max was very badly injured, when he looked at Nancy like that and overall they had no idea what was next.

The night before, in and of itself, was a mistake, it didn’t matter, nothing made any sense, nor did it matter with Vecna on the loose, ready to kill everyone and everything that ever existed.

Even worse, and she was ashamed to think like that but what she had told him was true, she was triggered by them, by the memories of them in the corridors, she didn’t have any feelings for Steve then but the heart eyes they gave each other in the Upside Down, accompanied by a lot of mixed feelings led her to believe that she didn’t deserve Steve, that she wasn’t worthy of him.

She will never be. She needs to rip the bandaid off and she needs to do it quickly.

Her eyes drifted from his face to the ceiling, she started to feel some nausea, the taste of bile in the back of her mouth, and gently, she pulled his arm away, and tried her hardest to not wake him up as she escaped to the main bathroom, upstairs, closed the room shut and let out the remnants of her stomach, followed by bile.

The cold tiles against her legs gave her goosebumps, she started noticing her heart’s palpitations, she could physically feel it beat fast against her ribcage; then the shortness of breath came on.

“No..” she whined, more like cried.

Without even realising she was having a panic attack. Having completely laid down on the tiles, her forehead on the floor, hoping the difference of temperature would ‘shock’ her out of it, but it didn’t work, it just painfully passed, her fingers were pressing so tightly into the palm of her hands her nails had left bloody nail marks.

Tears she had not noticed and could not control were rolling down, erratic breaths escaping her lips, her eyes screwed shut, frowned her eyebrows in discomfort, pain.

And when it was finally over, she slowly laid her back against the bathtub wall, trying to steady her her breathing, everytime she closed her eyes she was back in the Upside Down, with its thick toxic atmosphere, its monsters lurking in the darkness, silently, this terror living in her stomach, feeling so disoriented and lost.

The smallest bit of pain from her side reminded her of the violence she had to face in there, how the Upside Down’s not merciful. She forced herself to open her eyes, facing the door, closed, drying out her tears, taking a deep breath, hunched up as much as she could.

Closing her eyes one last time to force herself to take a deep breath, even if she relived her solo trip down there every time.

Breathe in. . . out. . . in. . . out. . .

Dustin woke up with a start, cold sweat falling from his forehead, out of breath.

He didn't know if he was dreaming or having nightmares and if he was, he couldn’t even remember what they were about.

He had woken up with this weight on his shoulders and his chest, this darkness lurking in a corner.

His heart was beating so fast he could feel it by resting a hand on his chest, trying to catch his breath.

It's like he was back there again.

He was cold, freezing, he hadn’t even realised that his hands were slightly shaking, but holding onto Eddie so hard his knuckles turned white.

As if he were still there again, he could smell Eddie's blood, and all he could see was blood, cherry red, and it was everywhere. It felt cold on his fingers, the tears falling on his hands felt like red-hot water.

His last breath left his lips, his eyes still open.

Glassy, the pupils were almost covered by a thin layer, clouding his honey brown irises.

Then the guilt, the shame.

Even if he remembers that she managed to bring Eddie back, and that he's alive, he can't stop but blame it on himself, how he got hurt, died for minutes, sacrificed himself to stall some more time.

He tried so hard to ground himself, trying to ease the panic, but it didn’t work the way he hoped.

By pushing the anxiety away he only welcomed it back more.

Soon, he was hyperventilating, his heart beating erratically, he could feel his thoughts spiralling, tying knots, betraying himself, silently crying to not alert his mother, who was worried enough for him.

He was alone.

Nancy and her mom had talked together about doing donations for the families in need, who had taken refuge in both the gymnasium of Hawkins High and Middle School.

When she had asked if Steve and her wanted to participate she said yes, which led her to go through some of her old clothes and toys in her parents’ garage while Steve was driving to his own house.

Eddie was better, he could stand and walk, even if it was still a bit painful, he could walk around the house, he still had to stay at hers’, his status of a fugitive wouldn’t be that easy to get rid of, even when —or if— they manage to stop Vecna at whatever he’s prepared for next.

Steve immediately sensed the mood change with her, she was closed off, stuck in her thoughts a lot.

He had hoped so hard that they were on better terms, not because they had shared a moment together, he knew better, no. It was merely a distraction for him, but because she had started to open up, was less closed off to him, and he keeps wondering over and over again if he had said, or done anything to upset her.

He has no idea.

And then, mindlessly parking next to his house as he was trying to go through the events of the night before, he remembers what she told him. The jealousy, the emptiness and the extreme uncertainty she feels… and he doesn’t know what to do, what to say to her without sounding like an asshole that doesn’t care, he doesn’t want to dismiss her feelings and her.

He sighs, leaves his car and goes inside his house, in search of clothes, food or anything that could be useful for helping the families in need while she does the same, rummaging through boxes in her garage under Eddie’s concerned eyes.

He had also noticed how she was quiet, closed off, and couldn't understand her behaviour. And as she was hunting down for old clothes, teddy bears and bedclothes, he recognized her irritation.

Weirder still, she was scavenging for things that, from what Eddie had imagined, would not be useful for donations of families in need, she now was rummaging through boxes and drawers for equipment and.. stuff?

“What are you doing?,” Eddie dared speak up, sceptical, his eyes furrowed.

She let out a breath of frustration, he thought she would stop to explain herself but in a quarter of a second she was back to going through the drawers.

Her name fell on his lips in a firm whisper, and she forfeited, turning around slowly to face him, distress evident on her face.

“Tell me what’s bugging you, and please, as you do, tell me why you’re rejecting Steve when he threw himself at you last night,” he gave her a puzzled look, she had hoped so badly he wouldn’t have noticed anything but he’s smarter than he looks, “I heard you guys kissing last night, now I don’t want to know if more was involved.. But please do tell me when I'll be an uncle.”

She sighed again, rolled her eyes at his banter, stepped further so her back was against the wall, crossing her arms, “Steve and I doesn’t concern you, and as for..”

“Excuse me? ‘Doesn’t concern me’”, he quoted in the air, “After I keep playing Cupid both in an interdimensional version of Hell and here? Even now. Are you kidding?”

She completely ignored him, her tone came a little more harsher than she wanted, her eyes stuck on Eddie, “And as for what I’m doing.. It’s him. He’s opened the four gates to the Upside Down, he leaves them open but he doesn’t attack? He’s literally done what he promised he would do. It’s weird. We need to use that time to get prepared, find whatever we can to.. I don’t know… make survival backpacks? In case of extreme emergency, we need to survive an apocalypse.”

“The apocalypse?” He had this grin coming on his lips, an amused expression on his face.

“Yes, Eddie, the fucking apocalypse, Armageddon, or whatever the hell you wanna call it! He delivered us his plans on a silver platter, and it fucking happenned. He has to be preparing something, he can’t just give up. He didn’t get Max, but he did get Jason and it was perfect for him since he had turned completely psycho because of Chrissy’s death. But, he got Jason after we shot him to his near-death, then he ripped open four gates of Hell in Hawkins so he’s still around. Him, and those fucking monsters.”

Eddie’s smile fell quickly, she was right. He hadn’t really thought about it, but she was right.

The threat was very much real and very much around, he started thinking about their little trip in the Upside Down and imagining how far it all could go, he was terrified, he suddenly began to feel cold, he couldn’t be more terrified.

“I’ll help you pack some things for the donations, I obviously can’t go but when you're done, we should call a meeting, plan our next moves, or try to… You’re right, I’m sorry.”

She had scarred both him and herself, her head hung low, she wasn’t quite sure if it was desperation, frustration, sadness, fear, or all of the above but her eyes started to water.

“This isn’t going to end well, Eddie, I can feel it.. It’s..,” with a finger on her chin he made her look up softly, their eyes met, and his mind went completely blank, there’s nothing he could say to comfort because he couldn’t believe it himself.

Instead of words, he put both his arms around her shoulders and held onto her, tightly, like an unspoken promise, her hands scrunched his shirt on his back, she was also holding onto him, as she let her tears cascade down her cheeks, wetting his shirt.

They were packing Steve’s car, in front of the Wheelers’ driveway, she had managed to sneak a word to Nancy about doing a group meeting after they went to the gymnasium.

With the help of her mother, Nancy was putting away more stuff so that they could donate it, both Dustin and her were quiet, long gone in their thoughts as they were putting away the boxes in Steve's trunk, who was busy getting the boxes from Nancy, Robin next to them.

Steve had also noticed how Dustin was quieter than usual too, but he didn’t say anything, and preferred to wait until they would all meet in her house to talk about what they would do to sneak a word to Dustin, he wasn’t quiet, he was a very loud and very sarcastic kid who had lost all of that, it worried him.

Not knowing what to do or say to both her and Dustin frustrated him, he felt useless, he now stood next to the both of them, Nancy catching up with him when they heard an unfamiliar vehicle approaching.

A van? A pizza van?

Steve turned around fully, frowning, his shoulder involuntarily brushing on her’s, “What the—” he let out as the van parked right in front of the Wheelers’ driveway, she briefly looked at him then turned to the van.

To their surprises, Jonathan, his brother and Nancy's exited the van accompanied by a girl with shaved head and a very long haired late teenager left the van, Dustin gasped and started to hobble towards his friends, Nancy put her box in Robin’s arms without any warning and stepped toward Jonathan.

The two embraced hurriedly, a rapid kiss on the lips as they held onto each other tightly, whispering things to one another, Steve looked away, trying to not be intrusive, his eyes fell on the one he wished he could be this close with, but she had stopped looking at them. Her head hung low.

She felt his eyes on her, his shoulder was further into her, she hesitated but curiosity —and longing— got the best of her, and she looked up. Some of his worry went away when she didn’t look away, but instead kept their eye contact.

Feeling braver, Steve gently offered her his hand, she briefly looked at the motion, seemed to think it through, and suddenly he awaited her rejection.. But it never came, instead she laced their fingers together, tightly, her head looking up at him again.

A weight had somehow been lifted off his shoulders, he felt relieved, maybe there was something he could save, maybe it wasn’t all over, he still held hope for them.

The parking lot was full, SUVs from the army were everywhere, along with firemen and paramedics, they had heard that Hawkins was receiving help from the neighbourhood states, many people were missing, some had lost their home and had nowhere to go.

There was something deeply unsettling about stepping in the gym, they all felt it differently, but they were on the same wavelength about one thing: they felt responsible for the people hurt, who had lost everything and they were the only ones to know how and why it happened the way it happened.

It wasn't just an earthquake, and they would realise that way too quickly, and it would be so deadly.

Steve had encouraged them to go on, as both Dustin and her had stopped by the doorways (left often to facilitate passage), they gave away the boxes, looking at one another they offered if they could be of any help.

Each had a spot in a different corner, Steve was sorting and giving clothes to the people in need, Dustin was offering water, Robin was making PB&Js’, and she was outside, with other volunteers, firemen and paramedics sorting out medical equipment donations that came from the neighbouring states.

She was gathering some unnamed boxes from a truck when she caught a glimpse of Eddie’s uncle, Wayne, stepping in the gym, she stopped in her tracks, not knowing what to say or do, she obviously couldn’t tell him the truth, nor confirm that he was missing, she wouldn’t be able to lie to him, but he also couldn’t just not know where his nephew was.

He would probably recognize her from the many nights she spent crashing at his trailer, but what exactly could she say to him. She was livid, rightfully so, she handed her box to another volunteer nearby and followed him inside.

He was pinning Eddie’s missing poster —or replacing it as people had drawn horns on his head— on a board that was already so full, unconsciously, her hands started to fidget, her fingers picking on the skin around her nails, while her gaze was on Wayne.

Dustin’s eyes fell on her as he was handing water, he followed her look and saw Wayne, he understood immediately her dilemma, he put down the platter and started hobbling towards her.. when they were all surprised with a thunderstorm.

Everyone had stopped what they were doing, an unsettling silence taking place as a second thunderstorm shot through the sky.

Everyone rushed towards the windows or outside, where they all could see some black smoke or cloud, they weren't sure, the atmosphere started to thicken already but they couldn't feel it yet.

The dark clouds —they appeared thicker than plain smoke— carried more red thunderstorms, the worse was the snow size particles —the same one from the Upside Down— falling from the dark clouds, that's when they knew it was already happening.

She rushed inside, the only one to move through the crowd outside observing the scene, she looked for and met Steve, both with a very serious face as they looked for the others and hurried back to her house.

Back at her house they waited for the others to be back, Dustin sat on the couch, next to her, his good leg wouldn't stop moving up and down in apprehension.

Robin was the one pacing up and down, under the very stressed pair of eyes belonging to her and Steve, Eddie sat in the stairs watching the front door.

Apprehension, stress and fear radiated from all of them. They were experiencing similar thoughts, it was spiralling, their minds on neverending wheels.

Stress and anxiety crippling in, watching Robin pace up and down in her living room was like torture, her brain was playing the events from before and the what ifs. So many what ifs.

Her right leg had also started going up and down, her hands fidgeting involuntarily, from where she sat she could see the garage door open, where she had put some essentials in boxes with Eddie.

After staring at that door for what felt like eternity she suddenly stood up and went straight to the laundry room where she was scavenging for backpacks, loudly, under Steve's confused eyes.

He dared asking her what she was doing —very fair question— to which she screamed she wouldn't do this again.

Another thunderstorm and her body went frigid, she turned around, backpacks under her arms.

“We need to pack essentials–backpacks!,” Steve had opened his mouth but she stopped him right there. “Listen, I want to be wrong so badly, but those dark clouds, the thunderstorms, the fucking spores coming from the sky, all of this comes from the Upside Down, which is fucking starting to spread.”

She stopped to catch her breath, her eyes softened, looking right at Steve, he sensed what she meant.

“I get you. I do. But we need to wait for the others, wait for them to–”

“What if they're not coming? What if we need to move quickly? I know I'm new at.. all of this, but Steve, I have a really bad feeling about this,” she ended up whispering the last bit, her concern evident on her face and in her voice.

It was her eyes, they told him something else, but he couldn't put a finger on what exactly her eyes were asking of him. He felt her concern, but what else was there?

“What if they are coming? Maybe it hasn't travelled to that part of the forest.. what I mean is.. we should wait for Nance,” her name fell on his lips like a resolution, like it was a finality.

Like he took the decision for them.

It didn't sit right with her.

“So what, we're supposed to wait for them— for Nancy to make our plans when absolutely anything could happen? What if the gates opened further and waves of Demogorgons just invaded Hawkins? Are we still waiting for Nancy then?!”

Eddie stepped from the stairs and was stepping towards the living room where a corridor led to the laundry room.

His eyes met Dustin's, at this point she was talking very loudly, all of them could hear their argument.

“Are we also waiting for Nancy to save us when those bats will rummage through Hawkins? Biting, eating, strangling everyone to their imminent deaths?,” she paused, stepping closer to Steve, feeling rageful by the minute, completely lashing out at him.

“Or let's wait for that gigantic shadow monster to take control of everyone and they've all turned into an apocalyptic zombie movie? Let's wait when there's nothing we can do!”

”Let's wait for Nancy to save us, our Lord and saviour! We wouldn't be here without her would we? You know what, you're right, we're going to patiently wait for her and hope for the best!”

She aggressively pushed Steve out of her way, storming out into her room, pacing up and down as she was unable to contain her anger.

She tried sitting on her bed but she couldn't stay put.

Downstairs, Steve was shocked, taken aback, lashing out like that wasn't like her. He was confused.

His hand nervously travelled through his hair, a trembling breath escaping his lips.

His feet slowly moved to the living room, where three pairs of eyes were expecting him, all questioning what had happened.

He was about to open his mouth but he stopped himself, what would he say? what would he tell them that could, potentially, explain what happened?

Nothing, because he didn't know.

He didn't understand what just happened.

He was about to dismiss what happened when they heard the sound of glass breaking upstairs, his brain moved faster than his muscles, he stopped himself in his tracks, she probably didn't want to see him right now if she was so mad at him.

He sent a knowing look at Eddie, who silently agreed to go upstairs, on his way up, a couple steps in they felt a slight movement in the house, an earthquake.

It lasted a couple minutes, small enough to feel it, to make the furniture vibrate but nothing much.

They all stopped, waiting for something else, something that never came, so he stepped further to her bedroom, while Robin had ran to the closest windows that showed the street.

Nothing had changed, there were more dark clouds, and the same amount of thunderstorms, same red colour, nothing had really changed and it had already gotten dark outside.

There were no evident signs that something was happening. Yet.

Eddie opened the door and found her sitting on her bed, a cloth around her hand, dotted in red colour.

He looked around but found no evidence of broken glass, until he approached the bathroom, and found her broken mirror, shards of it everywhere in the sink.

He turned around and finally met her gaze, a sigh left his lips as he sat next to her, his hands wrapped around her palm, and tried to uncover the cloth to see how bad it was.

The cuts were still bleeding, he couldn't see much, but he covered it back and sighed, his eyes met hers' once again.

There's nothing he could say that would make her feel better, so he wrapped his arm around her shoulders, brought her closer to him, his lips ghosting over her hairline.

“We'll get through this,” he finally whispered, the top of his head resting against her's, his hand gently caressing her arm.

“We have to get through this. I promise I will do anything to protect us, I brought you back, I'm not wasting my efforts."

He trusted her, he knew he could trust her with his life, she had already proven that, he didn't know if he could promise it back, he would try though.

When the small earthquake shook Hawkins and everyone waited anxiously to see if anything would happen.. it should have been their signal to leave, plan something, seek shelter or even better leave Hawkins altogether.

The portals had opened further, vines were the first thing that went through, their roots were already running deep in the soil and the asphalt, travelling further into the city, the sun setting earlier in the day was an omen for them, they were hiding in the obscurity of the night setting.

Oftentimes revealed by the red thunderstorms, went unnoticed as no one dared to leave their houses.

Another earthquake shook Hawkins then, much more intense than the first one when the four gates opened, the ground was completely ripped apart, more houses destroyed, demolished, most of the city was in shambles.

Roads were destroyed, markets, pharmacies and shops were barely able to handle the shock. The hospital.. the south and east wings were in ruins, on fire, the north and west wings were still holding on but not for very much longer.

There were more fires spreading, more red thunderstorms, more spores. More blood and bodies already started to pile up.

A swarm of demobats entered first, silent as they were lurking in the darkness, small shrieks echoing in the sky were the evidence of their presence.

Then, the first of many Demogorgon passed through, letting out a strident shriek in the night.

It had started.

#steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fic #steve harrington angst #steve harrington x f!reader #steve harrington fluff

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stylesonfilms · 7 months ago

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ink & innocence - 5

word count: 4.7k

hey lovies! thank you for the support already shown on this story. i'll try to pick up the pace soon, i don't plan on making it too much of a slow burn. feel free to send messages on plot ideas, i'd love to incorporate what the people want. thanks again, enjoy!!

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Harry fell onto his back, huffing air out. His eyes closed shut as he swallowed the thick air around them. They only unscrewed once Kirsten's voice rang through. "That was... wow," she laughed and turned her head to look over at Harry.

He swallowed again and turned his head to look over at her. "Yeah," He breathed, pushing himself up off the bed. His back felt sticky, a warm hot flashing over before the cold wind from the night whisked into his room and collided with their skin. "Let me just, uh," Harry pointed to the bathroom, signaling he was going to go clean up and bring her a towel as well.

The man's feet carried him to the cold tile of his restroom where the door clicked shut behind him. Leaning on the counter, he looked up to find his wild gaze looking right back at him. Normally, this routine wasn't anything out of the ordinary for Harry. He would hook up with women, clean them up, and off they go. What he didn't anticipate was the lingering feeling of guilt that came after, which flooded his chest. Even if he was nothing to Aspen and vice versa, that was her friend he had just slept with after ignoring her in her own home. He shook the thought out of his head as if it were too loud and leaking sound while suds formed between his scrubbing hands.

The cold water of the tap absorbed into the rag in his hands so he could wring out the material and wipe the sweat off his chest and neck. Sure, his night with Kirsten was good. Probably leaning on one of the better times as of recent. He could only hope his neighbors would forgive him for the stereotypical headboard banging against the wall.

A heavy sigh floated past his lips after he slipped a shirt over his muscular frame to go with his now clothed bottom half. He grabbed a fresh towel to bring back to Kirsten, squeezing out the excess water.

Harry leaned against the doorframe, holding the towel loosely in his hands as he took in the sight of Kirsten pulling on her boots. The dim light from the nightstand lamp cast a soft glow over her face, accentuating the faint smirk she wore as she brushed her hair back into place. Her confidence was palpable, a trait that had drawn him in earlier, but now it only amplified the strange hollowness settling in his chest.

"I didn't realize you'd be grabbing me one, too," she said with a laugh, gesturing toward the towel he held. "I'm just so used to, well, you know." She gave a small shrug, her tone light, casual, as if she were discussing something as mundane as the weather. "Tonight was fun. Really fun."

Harry gave a tight nod, his lips pressing into a thin line. He wasn't one for pillow talk, and Kirsten's carefree attitude made it clear she wasn't expecting it either. Still, there was something about the way she spoke that made him feel like a cog in some larger, predictable machine—a pattern he didn't particularly enjoy repeating tonight.

"Yeah," he said simply, his voice low. He stepped forward, placing the towel neatly on the bed beside her before retreating slightly, crossing his arms over his chest. The air between them was oddly charged, a mix of satisfaction and finality that didn't sit well with him.

Kirsten stood, adjusting her jacket before slinging her bag over her shoulder. "You're quiet, aren't you?" she teased, her tone playful as she moved toward the door.

"Depends on the company," Harry replied coolly, reiterating something along the lines of what he said earlier into the night, his voice even but distant. He didn't mean it as a jab, but it came out sharper than he intended.

Kirsten paused, raising an eyebrow as she looked back at him. For a moment, her confident façade faltered, her expression softening just slightly. "Well, you were good company tonight. Even if you won't admit it," she said with a grin, turning the doorknob. "See you around, Styles."

The door clicked shut behind her, leaving Harry alone in the dimly lit room. He ran a hand through his curls, letting out a heavy breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. The silence felt heavier now, pressing against his chest as he sat on the edge of the bed.

The faint scent of Kirsten's perfume lingered in the air, mixing with the musk of sweat and the crisp night breeze filtering through the open window. His gaze fell to the towel on the bed, the one she hadn't needed, and the guilt that had been gnawing at the edges of his mind finally spilled over.

Aspen's face flashed in his mind unbidden, the soft smile she'd worn when she greeted Isobel earlier in the night, the way her voice had wavered when she muttered her quiet hello. She'd seemed so small, so out of place, like she didn't quite belong in her own home with him there. Harry's jaw tightened as he thought of the way she'd disappeared down the hall, her excuse rushed and shaky.

And now, he'd just slept with her friend.

It wasn't like he owed her anything, Harry reminded himself, rubbing a hand over his face. He barely knew Aspen, and she barely knew him. But that didn't stop the uncomfortable twist in his gut, the nagging feeling that he'd crossed some invisible line.

He grabbed the beer bottle from his nightstand, the condensation slick against his fingers as he took a long swig. The alcohol burned down his throat, dulling the edges of his thoughts but failing to erase them entirely. He skimmed around the sex-musked room and his eyes locked on the black lace peeking out on the floor at the end of his bed.

"Shit," he mumbled with a groan.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Meanwhile, Aspen lay awake in her room, her eyes fixed on the ceiling as she tried to will herself to sleep. She could still hear faint murmurs of conversation from the living room, the occasional burst of laughter filtering through the walls. She wondered if Kirsten was still there, if Harry was still there.

Her stomach twisted at the thought of them together, though she didn't understand why. It wasn't like she and Harry were friends. He'd made it clear he didn't think much of her, and she'd done her best to brush off his cold demeanor. Still, the idea of him and Kirsten sitting so close, laughing and talking like they were the only two people in the room, sent a pang of something she couldn't quite name through her chest.

She turned onto her side, clutching her pillow tightly. You're being ridiculous, she told herself firmly. Harry was just a guy. A guy who had barely spared her a second glance.

But the thought of seeing him, or worse, seeing him with Kirsten, made her stomach churn.

In the stillness of her room, Aspen closed her eyes and tried to focus on her breathing, the soft rise and fall of her chest. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't shake the feeling that things had shifted tonight, though she couldn't say exactly how.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

The next morning came just as fast as it went. A trend of feeling that seemed to happen a lot lately, Aspen noted. Her body tossed itself in its half asleep state to her left side, jumping back a bit when she saw the mess of blonde hair. She sighed and closed her eyes, tucking herself in a ball under the covers. Isobel must have climbed into bed with her after Zayn went home, feeling bad about what Aspen came home to.

Isobel followed with a groan, turning to her right side to now face Aspen who looked sound asleep but was very much awake. Her roommate knew her too well, once Aspen was awake, she was awake for good. There was no going back to bed for her. It was a pain in the ass sometimes, though.

"Morning, sunshine," Isobel spoke up, the sleep heavy in her voice. She laughed at the sound of her grunting voice. The sound bounced off the walls of Aspens bedroom. In response, the girl only hummed and peeked her eyes open to look at her blonde haired friend. Eventually, her arms slid out the covers to stretch her limbs. "Good morning, Iz. Welcome to my bed," Aspen squeaked, shriveling back into the warmth of her comforter.

Their breaths filled the air along with the small whistle of wind that creeped through the cracked window. They both laid on their backs now, staring at the ceiling that Aspen decorated with simple strings of fairy lights, which were currently off. She only turned them on when she spent days or nights cuddled in bed with a book or a movie. It added to the ambience, Aspen would always tell Isobel after forcing her to set them up for her.

"I didn't know Harry was going to come," Isobel started, guilt swallowing her voice. She would have never let him in if she had known, but of course she didn't want to be rude and slam the door after Zayn. She would next time, she promised herself.

Aspen stayed quiet with her eyes on the lights as they suddenly became interesting enough to individually count the micro bulbs.

"I'm sorry, Asp."

It was then that she looked over at Isobel with a forgiving look. "It's okay, I know. Plus," she shrugged and looked back to the ceiling, "it's not a big deal. We spoke what, once? He was bored of his friends and you were with Zayn and no one else seemed to be alone besides me—," Aspen sucked in a breath. Trying to change the topic, she surfaced the idea of taking that camping get away soon.

They were finally on break and Isobel would drag Zayn along, to be the manly man, as well as Kirsten and maybe another friend from class. They kept their group small and quiet, and Aspen wasn't much for socializing anyways. It was a good time for them to get out of the apartment anyways. Aspen figured some time out in nature would be good.

"What if we went this week? We could leave on Sunday, and head back Thursday morning. It shouldn't be too hard to find an RV to take out there. We'd sleep in tents, duh," Isobel rolled over to her side and propped on her elbow, "but we can drive it there. Well, Zayn can. You and I, we'll take on keeping the group alive with food. How's that sound?"

Aspen cracked a smile. It did sound nice. She could read, possibly finish the one she was on now and start up another. And she could read by the lake! Something about the quiet sounds mixed with the flow of running water and just nature brought her peace. She didn't mind cooking, either. It was something she liked to do for herself and Isobel anyways, and it shouldn't be hard to keep three women and a man alive for that short time.

"Yeah, that sounds nice," Her voice came out soft. "I'll just have to let Marion know, but I think it sounds nice," she said again.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Across town, Harry sat hunched over the work computer at the shop, his brow furrowed as he scrolled through the calendar of bookings. For the first time in what felt like months, his personal schedule was wide open for the coming week. It seemed like everyone was slowing down for the holidays. Even Niall, who typically had back-to-back clients, only had a few appointments scheduled.

Harry closed the calendar tab with a click, leaning back in the chair. He stretched his arms over his head, the ink on his forearms catching the dull light of the shop. “Zayn, you’ve got a two-thirty coming in,” he called over his shoulder, his voice gruff.

Zayn, who was cleaning his equipment nearby, gave a thumbs-up. “Got it. You okay, mate? You’ve been quiet all morning.”

Harry grunted in response, not bothering to elaborate. His mind had been on a frustrating loop since last night. He wasn’t sure what irritated him more-- the nagging guilt over sleeping with Kirsten or the fact that Aspen’s face had been haunting his thoughts ever since. She was shy, reserved, almost invisible most of the time, yet she’d managed to crawl under his skin in a way he couldn’t shake. How could one simple conversation in one night mess him up this bad?

Zayn watched Harry carefully, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “You sure? You’ve got that ‘brooding asshole’ look going strong today,” he teased.

Harry shot him a glare, though it lacked his usual bite. “Piss off, Z.”

Zayn laughed, shaking his head as he went back to his prep. “Alright, man, but if you wanna talk about whatever—or whoever—is eating at you, I’m here.”

Harry didn’t respond. Instead, he grabbed his sketchbook and sank into the leather chair by the window, letting the sound of the shop fade into the background as he stared out at the street. The thought of disappearing for a few days—getting out of town and away from the mess in his head— sounded better by the minute.

The buzzing of a tattoo gun filled the shop, a familiar background noise that usually put Harry at ease. Today, though, it only made his shoulders feel tighter. He sat in the corner by the window, sketchbook balanced on his knee as he absently doodled. His mind wasn’t on the designs, though—it kept flickering back to last night. Specifically, to Kirsten, her easy laugh, and the way her inked skin had felt under his fingertips. And then, inevitably, his thoughts veered to Aspen—her quiet presence at the party and the way she’d all but fled the moment she’d seen him with Kirsten.

“You’re in a mood,” Zayn announced, his voice cutting through the noise. He leaned against the doorway to the back room, arms crossed, a knowing grin on his face. “More than usual, I mean.”

Harry didn’t look up from his sketchbook. “What do you want, Zayn?”

Zayn ignored the gruffness in his tone and sauntered over, plopping down on the couch across from him. “Nothing. Just wondering what—or who—has you looking like you’ve been chewing on nails all morning.”

Harry’s pencil paused mid-sketch, his grip tightening slightly. “Not in the mood, mate.”

“Not in the mood? Come on, Harry. You’re the one who had a bit of fun last night,” Zayn said, his grin widening. “Kirsten seemed... pleased. You two looked cozy.”

Harry’s jaw tensed as he flipped the page in his sketchbook, pretending to focus on a new design. “Drop it.”

But Zayn wasn’t one to let things go, especially when he sensed there was more to the story. “What’s the problem? She’s hot, clearly into you, and it’s not like you’re the commitment type.”

Harry finally glanced up, his green eyes narrowing in warning. “I said drop it.”

“Whoa, whoa,” Zayn held up his hands, feigning surrender. “No need to get your knickers in a twist. Just saying, it’s not like anyone’s keeping score. Unless...” His smirk returned, devilish now. “You’re not thinking about Aspen, are you?”

The way Harry’s jaw clenched gave him away, even as he remained silent.

Zayn let out a low whistle. “Holy shit. You are, aren’t you?” He leaned back, clearly enjoying himself. “That’s what this is about. You’ve got a thing for Aspen.”

“I don’t have a thing for anyone,” Harry snapped, his voice low but sharp enough to slice through the noise of the shop.

At that moment, Niall popped his head in from the back, a mischievous grin already in place. “What’s this about Aspen?”

Zayn immediately gestured for Niall to join them. “Oh, you’re gonna want to hear this. Our boy Harry’s all tangled up because he slept with Kirsten but can’t stop thinking about her shy little roommate.”

Harry groaned, running a hand through his curls as Niall grabbed a chair and sat down, laughing. “Kirsten and Harry, huh? Didn’t see that coming. Thought you’d sworn off dating anyone remotely connected to your social circle, mate.”

“It’s not dating,” Harry growled.

“Right, right. Just some fun,” Niall teased, winking. “So, what’s the issue, then? Kirsten’s gorgeous, and Aspen...” He trailed off, glancing at Harry with a sly grin. “She’s not your usual type, but I get it. There’s something about her, huh? Quiet ones are always full of surprises.”

“Both of you can piss off,” Harry muttered, closing his sketchbook with more force than necessary.

Zayn and Niall exchanged amused glances before Zayn pressed on. “Seriously, though. What’s the deal? You’ve barely said two words to Aspen since the party, and now you’re brooding like you’ve got a guilty conscience. What’s going on in that curly head of yours?”

Harry leaned forward, elbows on his knees, his gaze fixed on the floor. He hesitated, the words heavy on his tongue. Finally, he muttered, “It’s not guilt.”

“Then what is it?” Niall asked, genuinely curious now.

Harry’s head snapped up, his green eyes darkening as he leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. The sharp shift in his posture was like a physical barrier, warning them not to push further. His jaw tightened, and his lips curled into a dismissive smirk that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Are you two serious?” he scoffed, his voice dripping with disdain. “Aspen? She’s dull as hell. Barely says two words in a room and looks like she’d rather be anywhere else when people are around. Boring doesn’t even begin to cover it.”

Zayn and Niall blinked, their surprise at Harry’s sudden venom showing plainly on their faces.

“And Kirsten?” Harry continued, his tone biting as he picked up his pencil again, spinning it idly between his fingers. “Now that’s a woman. Confident, funny, knows how to hold a conversation. Not to mention she’s actually hot. Inked up and everything. You think I’d waste time on someone like Aspen when I could have that?” He scoffed again, shaking his head. “Please.”

Zayn frowned, exchanging a glance with Niall. “Jesus, mate. That’s a bit harsh, don’t you think?”

“Harsh?” Harry let out a humorless laugh, tapping his pencil on the sketchbook. “You’re the ones acting like I’ve got some secret crush on her. I’m just setting the record straight.”

But even as the words left his mouth, Harry’s chest tightened. He knew he sounded cruel— he’d meant to sound cruel. It was the only way to shut them up, to throw them off the scent of whatever confusing mess was brewing inside him. The truth was, every insult felt like a lie he was spitting through gritted teeth. Aspen wasn’t boring; she was thoughtful and observant, noticing things others missed. She wasn’t plain; her quiet confidence was magnetic in ways he couldn’t explain.

He pushed those thoughts down, hard, shoving them into a corner of his mind where they couldn’t fester. He needed Zayn and Niall to buy this version of him, the version that didn’t care, that didn’t even see Aspen.

Niall narrowed his eyes, studying him with more suspicion than Harry liked. “Funny, considering you barely took your eyes off her at the party.”

Harry rolled his eyes dramatically, leaning forward and grabbing his sketchbook to scribble something random. “I wasn’t looking at her, you idiot. I was just bored out of my mind. Not much else to focus on when the rest of you are busy playing happy couples.”

“Uh-huh,” Zayn said, unconvinced.

“Believe whatever you want,” Harry muttered, waving them off dismissively. “I don’t care.”

But he did care. Every word he’d said felt like a betrayal, not just to Aspen but to himself. Still, he buried the guilt, keeping his expression carefully blank as he returned to his sketch.

“Fine,” Zayn finally said, standing up and stretching his arms over his head. “If you say you’re not into her, I’ll drop it. But don’t expect us to believe you when you’re acting this defensive.”

Harry didn’t respond, focusing intently on the sketchbook as if the world around him had ceased to exist.

Niall snorted as he followed Zayn toward the back. “For a guy who doesn’t care, you’re awfully prickly about it.”

As their voices faded, Harry let out a long breath, his pencil still in hand. He stared blankly at the page, the lines he’d been drawing turning into nothing more than aimless scribbles.

“Bloody hell,” he muttered under his breath, raking a hand through his curls. Lying about Aspen hadn’t just gotten them off his back— it had left him feeling worse. But he’d deal with that later. Right now, the only thing he could do was keep up the façade.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

It was a couple of hours later when Harry found himself at Zayn’s house, lounging in the kitchen while Zayn leaned against the counter, his phone pressed to his ear. Harry had come over because there wasn’t much else to do. The shop had been slow, and his own apartment felt too quiet, his thoughts dangerously close to places he didn’t want to revisit. Being around Zayn wasn’t ideal, but it was better than being alone with his own mind.

Zayn’s voice was light and teasing as he spoke to Isobel, pacing the kitchen in socked feet. Harry half-listened while he rummaged through the cabinets, searching for something edible. Zayn never kept anything decent stocked; it was always random snacks or leftovers that had been in the fridge long past their prime.

"Yeah, sounds like a good idea. Honestly, it’ll be nice to get out for a bit," Zayn said into the phone, his tone dripping with the kind of affection that Harry couldn’t help but find mildly irritating. “Yeah, Kirsten said she’s in. Oh, and Niall—wait, hang on, let me ask him.”

Harry glanced over his shoulder at Zayn, raising a skeptical brow. “Niall can’t go,” he muttered, pulling open another cabinet. “He’s got appointments during the dates you’re planning. Told him myself this morning.”

Zayn paused, his brow furrowing as he digested that information. “Oh, yeah, right. I forgot. Thanks, mate.” He returned his attention to the phone. “Isobel, scratch Niall. He’s booked solid that week. But hey, I can bring Harry.”

At Zayn’s words, Harry froze. His hand, which had been reaching for a box of stale-looking crackers, hovered mid-air. He turned slowly, fixing Zayn with a glare that could have set the room on fire.

“Absolutely not,” Harry said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Zayn, ever the optimist when it came to wearing people down, ignored him. “Yeah, he’s free all week. It’d be good for him to get out. He’s been a right grump lately.”

“I said no,” Harry repeated, his voice louder this time. He slammed the cabinet shut for emphasis, the sound making Zayn wince slightly.

Isobel’s laugh was light but hesitant as it floated through the phone. “Actually, Zayn… I don’t know if that’s such a great idea. You know how Aspen feels. It might be… uncomfortable for her, especially with everything that’s happened.”

Zayn paused for a beat, glancing at Harry, who was rifling through the fridge with an irritated expression. His grin didn’t falter, though, as he leaned against the counter. “Aspen’s fine,” he said breezily, dismissing Isobel’s concern as if it were a passing thought. “She’s a grown woman. It’s not like Harry’s gonna be glued to her side the whole trip.”

Isobel sighed audibly on the other end. “I’m serious, Zayn. If he’s there, she might—”

“Babe,” Zayn cut her off with a playful tone, “you’re overthinking it. It’ll be fine. More than fine, actually. The more the merrier, right? Don’t stress, love. I’ll handle it.” Without waiting for her to protest further, Zayn quickly changed the subject. “Anyway, I’ll bring the beer. Do we need more marshmallows for the campfire?”

Isobel exhaled sharply, clearly not convinced, but she let it go with a muttered, “You’re impossible.”

“Love you too,” Zayn said cheekily before ending the call and shoving his phone into his pocket. Turning to Harry, he adopted the same easy grin.

“Good news, mate. Isobel says the more the merrier. You’re officially invited.”

Harry turned away from the fridge, a scowl tugging at his lips as he stared Zayn down. “I already told you, I’m not going.”

Zayn ignored his tone entirely, moving to grab a bag of chips from the pantry. “Come on, man. Campfires, hiking, fishing, a couple of beers by the lake… It’ll do you some good to get out. And it’s not like you have anything better to do.”

Harry narrowed his eyes. He wasn't necessarily wrong, but he knew the pang of guilt would only nestle itself further, especially after what he said earlier in the shop. “Hard no,” he said flatly, though there was a flicker of doubt in his tone.

Zayn shrugged, popping a chip into his mouth. “Suit yourself. Just don’t come crying to me when you’re stuck in your cave all week, miserable as always.”

Harry didn’t bother responding, his jaw tightening as he turned his attention back to the fridge. Zayn might have brushed it off, but Harry couldn’t shake the unease that crept into his chest. If Zayn’s nonchalant attitude was an act, it wasn’t a very good one.

The thought of being near Aspen, even with a group of people, left him on edge. He didn’t want to admit how much she lingered in the back of his mind, how her absence in a room felt louder than anyone else’s presence. But the idea of facing her—and whatever awkwardness or tension would inevitably follow—was enough to make his stomach turn.

Still, as Zayn rambled on about tents and supplies, Harry couldn’t help but wonder if there was some part of him that didn’t want to say no. Some part that wanted to see her, even if it was only from a distance.

Harry's mind traced back to his empty week. Niall had a busy week outside of work, so he couldn't bother him. Harry did well alone. It wasn't like he needed the company of other people, it was just the lingering thought of a retreat. Plus, he heard Zayn mutter back and forth with Isobel on the phone, a conversation long drowned into the background noise of Harrys thoughts, about Kirsten going. Their night at Isobel's wasn't so bad, she wasn't that hard to talk to. Especially with alcohol involved, Harry was sure he would slouch a bit into conversation.

Plus, it wasn't like the chances of seeing Aspen were high, anyways. He would climb into the passenger seat, assuming the girls would be in the back, and accompany Zayn in front of the curtain. And when they would arrive, he'd make his way to a far corner with his tent and keep to himself and his journal. His heavy shoulders slouched while his green eyes flickered back to Zayn; who was still on the phone.

Surely, it couldn't be that bad. Harry would keep to Harry and Aspen would keep to Aspen and, well, her books.

"I'll go."

"What?" Zayn grinned, a smug one at that. He knew that Harry would give in. The man always cooped himself in his own space and his apartment surely wasn't that nice. He could do the same, just by the campfire. Plus, Zayn didn't want to be the only guy there. His fear of snakes and ground critters ran deep in his bones and Harry... well. Harry was sure to do a good ole' neck stomp and carry on about his day.

"You heard me," Harry gruffed. "If I have to say it again, I'm not going. Piss off."

"Harry, this is my ho--."

"I said piss off," He grumbled again, the front door slamming shut as he left.

It wouldn't be so bad. It couldn't be so bad. Harry's phone chimed only two minutes later.

Zayn: Vas happeninnnn!!

Harry rolled his eyes, not answering. So when Harry's response didn't come through for a few seconds, another text chimed on his phone.

Zayn: Vodka or tequila ? Running 2 the store soon we leave tomorrow morning

Zayn: 9 am meet here

What a stupid question. Weren't they supposed to be friends? As if it was on cue with the curly headed mans thoughts, Zayn texted again.

Zayn: Nvm , gunna grab both Lol!

Harry rubbed a hand over his face with his eyes closed, head leaned back into the seat of his car. A heavy sigh escaped his lips. Guess he should get to packing.

#harry styles #fanfic #one direction #zayn malik #niall horan #fanfiction #wattpad fanfiction #wattpad #louis tomlinson #harry styles fanfiction #smut #harry smut #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles writing #ink and innocence

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cyberneticloverboy · 6 months ago

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EYESTRAIN TW!!!

[pt: eyestrain tw]

01. chamileú! (ka-mill-ee-oo)

[pt: chamileú, pronounced ka-mill-ee-oo]

an umbrella centred around gold, the sun, apotheosis, godliness, and material posessions. it is generally non-xenine but can be considered xenine, mixed with xenine terms, or presented in a generally xenic way. can be used for anything, not just genders!

other themes that might fall under chamileú:

a façade of holiness

being a demon(/unholy being) masquerading as an angel(/holy being)

hunger for power

social isolation by choice

etc.

milúche - a chamileú person. chamility - the equivalent of femininity/masculinity/etc. chamiline - the equivalent of feminine/masculine/etc. milacheú - gender alignment. ameúla - a chamileú4chamileú (milúche4milúche) term for chamileú people attracted to other chamileú people. transchamil - transitioning into chamility. milache - a general chamileú gender. chiúme - a chamiline minor. chaemúl - a chamiline adult.

no spoons for id, help appreciated but not forced <3 symbol from here (link) coined by felix! for gold & zephyr! queued on 8/1/25

taglist!!! @radiomogai @idwl @rwuffles @daybreakthing @boingogender

taglist 2!!! @neogenderumbrella-archive @cocajimmycola

not a xenogender, tagging for reach

#tw eyestrain #eyestrain tw #neogender umbrella #moqai #moqai coining #mogai #mogai coining #qai #qai coining #xeno #xeno coining #xenogender #xenogender coining #chamileú #💿 coining

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fafnir19 · 2 months ago

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Engineering a Dark Legacy

The military assessment center loomed before Lewis like a monolith, its stark concrete façade reflecting the early morning sun. He stood, clutching his folder, heart racing as he scanned the entrance. Soldiers in crisp uniforms marched by, their sharp boots echoing against the pavement—*thud, thud, thud*—a sound that filled him with a mix of awe and trepidation. “Why did I even apply?” he muttered under his breath, adjusting his horn-rimmed glasses. He felt out of place, a nervous science PhD student among a sea of tall, confident soldiers. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for what lay ahead. Today marked the beginning of the assessment center for a coveted position as an aviation engineer, a role that could catapult him into the elite R+D department of the military—if he passed the grueling selection process. The military had never appealed to him and aviation engineering wasn’t exactly his forte. But the military’s elite center promised cutting-edge research and had a reputation for groundbreaking innovations - and he needed a job after graduation.

As Lewis stepped through the imposing gates of the military center, a rush of excitement and anxiety filled his chest. He was greeted by a stern-looking Sergeant, who handed him a bundle consisting of a pair of olive bomber pants and combat boots. “You’re Lewis? Get in line—gear up.” Gear up? Lewis blinked, his stomach twisting into knots. “Uh, is this really necessary? I thought I’d just be in my regular clothes,” he stammered, glancing down at his checkered shirt and slacks. “Military protocol, kid. These will help you get into the mindset.” The Sergeant crossed his arms, his gaze fierce. With a reluctant sigh, Lewis slipped into the oversized pants, the fabric sleek against his skin. He laced up the combat boots, the weight of them grounding him in a way that was terrifying intimidating.

The next three days blurred into a relentless cycle of logic puzzles, engineering simulations, rapid-fire questioning, and psychological evaluations. Three days of relentless pressure, each moment a gauntlet of intellectual challenges designed to break down even the most brilliant minds. Stress gnawed, exhaustion settled deep, yet a strange thrill persisted. The final meeting arrived. He found himself in a sterile conference room, facing General Radu across a polished table. "Lewis," Radu began, his voice a low rumble, "your performance was…impressive." Hope flickered in Lewis's chest. "However," Radu continued, shattering that hope, "we’ve decided to move forward with a candidate with more specialized aviation experience." Disappointment stung. Lewis had dared to hope. "That said," Radu continued, a glint in his eye, "we have another position. One we haven't advertised." Lewis's heart skipped a beat. Radu rose and gestured toward the door. "Come with me." They descended into the bowels of the military complex, passing through layers of security that made Lewis's head spin. The air grew colder, the silence deeper. A sense of anticipation thrummed through him. Finally, they reached a heavy steel door. Radu punched in a code, and it hissed open, revealing a brightly lit laboratory. Computers hummed, strange devices blinked, and scientists in lab coats huddled over complex equipment. "Welcome to our…special projects division," Radu said, a hint of pride in his voice. Lewis's eyes darted around the room, taking it all in.

This was it. The cutting edge. The kind of research he had only dreamed of. Radu led him deeper into the lab, explaining the various projects underway. "Here, Lewis, we push the boundaries of what's possible. Hypersonic propulsion, advanced materials, directed energy..." He let the list trail, allowing the sheer scope to impress the young scientist. This was beyond anything Lewis had imagined. Then his gaze snagged on something odd. A black silk cloak hung on a mannequin, its red lining a stark contrast.

"What's that?" he blurted, unable to contain his curiosity. Radu smirked, a glint in his eye. "Ah, that. We found it on one of our excursions, deep in a cave in Romania. That, Lewis, will be your project." "My project?" Lewis echoed, bewildered. "What is it for?" Radu's smirk widened. "Try it on, and you'll see. Believe me, you'll be impressed." Lewis approached the cloak, his fingers tracing the smooth, cool silk. With a deep breath, he donned it. A jolt of energy coursed through him, his muscles rippling and expanding. His shirt strained, then vanished entirely. The olive bomber pants he'd been given now fit perfectly, molded to newly sculpted thighs. He felt an unfamiliar force coursing through his veins, he felt…powerful. "Wow!" he gasped, flexing his arms, marveling at the transformation.

Radu chuckled. "Now you have not only the knowledge about combat jets but also the body to fly one." Lewis laughed, still caught up in the spectacle. "Maybe the body, but not the mind. I'd be too afraid to risk my life in a jet fighter!" The general's expression hardened. "You are a warrior now, and a soldier follows his superior's commands." Shock slammed into Lewis. "That's a misunderstanding. I'm not a soldier, I'm a scientist! I guess it…" He trailed off, a strong pain gripping his mouth. He felt something…sewing his lips together. He tried to speak, but no sound came out. Panic flared. He reached up, fingers tracing the rough, red yarn that now sealed his mouth. He could only mumble inarticulately.

Radu's voice was sharp, unforgiving. "The cloak doesn't accept contradicting your general. This is the punishment." Lewis's eyes widened in horror. "If you wonder how you should eat with sewed lips…" Radu continued, his tone laced with dark amusement. "This cloak was used by Dracula to form an army of loyal warriors. You aren't exactly human anymore, and you will feast on the life energy of your enemies." Then, a new sensation flooded Lewis's senses. He could see it now: a faint aura of light surrounding each person, a shimmering field of energy he hadn't noticed before.

Radu sensed his dawning realization. "Just suck the life energy off a human, and your transformation is complete!" Lewis shook his head frantically, a silent scream trapped in his throat. Radu's smirk returned, colder than before. "Or resist your hunger for more than three days, and you'll be restored." Hope flickered within Lewis. Three days without food – he could do that. He had to. Radu removed the cloak, the stolen power receding slightly. He replaced it with a simple black bomber jacket. "Welcome to the team, Lewis!"

General Radu steered Lewis down a sterile corridor. The path ended at a stark, reinforced door marked 'Restricted Access – Level 5.' Radu punched in a code, the lock clicked open with a heavy thud, and they entered a section that felt colder, more isolated than any Lewis had seen. "This is where we keep our… more challenging guests," he said, his voice dropping to a near whisper. The metallic tang of fear hung heavy as they entered the high-security wing. The cells lining the corridor were made of thick, reinforced glass, each housing a figure of varying degrees of menace. They passed a hulking brute covered in tattoos, a woman with eyes that darted around like trapped birds, and finally stopped before a cell where a man in an orange jumpsuit sat cross-legged on the floor, laughing. The glass walls did little to contain his arrogance. Terrorist, the label screamed in Lewis's mind. The man, Ahmet, looked up, a sneer twisting his lips.

"Look who's here," Ahmet sneered, his eyes glinting with disdain. "The clowns in uniforms. Come to grovel some more? Tell me again how you'll break me?" He spat on the floor, a gesture of pure contempt. Radu's smirk didn't falter. "Ahmet, meet your new roommate." He gestured to Lewis, clad in the black bomber jacket against his bare skin, the sewn lips a grotesque parody of a smile. The laughter died in Ahmet's throat. His bravado crumbled, replaced by a primal fear. He scrambled back, pressing himself against the far wall of the cell. "What is that thing?" he croaked, his voice barely a whisper. "Enjoy your company, Ahmet. I trust you'll make him feel at home." Radu's voice dripped with amusement as he unlocked the cell and shoved Lewis inside. Ahmet's eyes, wide with genuine fear, darted between Lewis and Radu. Then, Radu turned and strode away, the heavy door clanging shut behind him, leaving Lewis and Ahmet alone in the oppressive silence.

Hours crawled by. Lewis stood motionless, his gaze fixed on Ahmet, who huddled in the corner, his eyes darting around the cell, fear etched on his face. The hunger began to gnaw at Lewis, a deep, primal craving that grew with each passing moment. He could see it now, the faint aura of life force that shimmered around Ahmet, beckoning him. He fought it, clenching his fists, trying to hold onto the last vestiges of his former self. *Three days,* he thought. *Just three days and it will be over.* He remembered his lab, his research, the life he had before. But the memory felt distant, fading like a dream. The hunger was a relentless tide, pulling him under. "Stay away from me," Ahmet whimpered, his voice trembling. "Please, what do you want?" Lewis remained silent, his sewn lips preventing him from speaking. But his eyes, burning with a newfound intensity, told a story of their own. He could resist no longer. With a guttural growl, he lunged at Ahmet. "No! Get away!" Ahmet screamed, scrambling to his feet. He threw a desperate punch, but Lewis brushed it aside, his strength far surpassing anything he had possessed before. He grabbed Ahmet by the throat, his fingers digging into flesh. "What are you doing?!" Ahmet choked, his eyes bulging. "Let me go!" Lewis stared into Ahmet's eyes, a dark vortex of hunger and desperation. And then, he began to draw the life force from him. Ahmet's screams turned into gurgling gasps as his body withered, his skin turning grey and papery. Lewis drank deeply, savoring the rush of energy, the satisfying calm that washed over him. Radu watched from the observation window, his face a mask of horrified fascination. He had expected a transformation, but the sheer brutality of it was shocking.

Then, after what felt like an eternity, Lewis released Ahmet. The terrorist’s body crumpled to the floor, a shriveled husk devoid of life. Radu entered the cell, his face a mask of grim satisfaction. He surveyed the scene, his gaze lingering on the lifeless remains of Ahmet.

A slow smile spread across his face. "Impressive," Radu said, his voice low. "We suspected that the more intelligent subjects would become the most horrific … uhm, I mean …efficient. It seems we were correct." Lewis stood panting, his body buzzing with newfound power. He felt a strange sense of calm, a dark satisfaction that settled deep within him. He looked at Radu, and a surge of loyalty coursed through him. His general. His commander. "Your transformation is now irreversible," Radu announced, his eyes gleaming. "Welcome, my warrior!"

The following months passed in a blur of training and combat missions. Lewis excelled as a pilot, his enhanced senses and reflexes making him a formidable force in the air. But his victories came at a terrible cost. He left a trail of desiccated corpses in his wake, each one a testament to his insatiable hunger. He never took prisoners. Why bother, when they were so much more useful as sustenance?

One morning, Lewis awoke to a strange sensation. He ran a hand over his mouth, feeling the smooth skin where the stitches had once been. They were gone, dissolved as if by magic. He opened his mouth, testing his voice. It was deeper, more resonant than he remembered. He could speak now, but he had nothing to say. He knew, with chilling certainty, that his transformation was complete. The last vestiges of his former self had been erased, replaced by a cold, ruthless efficiency. He was no longer Lewis, the nerdy PhD student. He was a weapon, a predator, utterly loyal to his master. He kneeled before Radu, his eyes cold and empty. "General," he said, his voice flat, devoid of emotion. "What are my orders?"

Radu surveyed his creation, a handsome, daring killer with ancient powers. Then a satisfied smile spread across his face that revealed the depths of his ambition. "Excellent," he said. "You are exactly what we needed." He had created a monster, a perfect soldier with no conscience. And he knew, with absolute certainty, that Lewis would obey his every command.

#male tf #male transformation #personality change #mind corruption #vampire tf #vampire #military #soldier tf

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emo-hermit · 2 months ago

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A series of AVM mental health headcanons and analyses

Decided to write down a few of my mental analyses from when I watched AVM. These are entirely headcanon and stem mostly from personal experience and canon material, where episodes relevant will be cited.

Brief summary from mild to most serious: Green, the extrovert, has social anxiety. Red, Yellow and Purple are the ADHD/Autism/AuDHD trio. TSC has PTSD.

Green has social anxiety.

This mostly stems from his overindulgence in performance, his overconfidence, and his tendency to one-up his friends, prove intelligence, and get distraught at losses or accidents (E35). While the Influencer Arc was a slippery slope from the beginning, Green felt particularly sensitive to the amount of praise, and I imagine that it is from an already-fragile self opinion. His confidence is mostly façade, with the idea that any failure, mistake, or otherwise "poor" action ends with others hating him. He attaches hard to kindness and praise as a result of this, causing his spiral in the Influencer Arc. The more attention he received, the more he felt a 'lack' of it meant hatred, and so on, so forth.

Red has mentioned ADHD. Who's the autism?

My favourite thing about AVM or AVA in general is the usage of body language to depict thoughts, emotions, or dialogue. It's with this body language that I identified Yellow as having particularly odd body language.

This started on my second watch of E30 when I noticed that everyone runs pretty similarly except Yellow. The others have their heads down, body leaning forward and arms thrashing harshly, similar to running in anime and other cartoon media. Yellow is an outlier in that he runs with his back completely straight, arms moving with an abnormally stable force. He takes running very literally.

Alongside this, Yellow is the most emotionally dysfunctional of the CG (Colour Gang). This starts all the way back in S1 with the 'death' of Green, and how Yellow is the one who seems to be struggling to process it. He tries to comfort the others, to no avail. In the start of E23, Blue laments about the separated group, and Yellow continues to appear as if he has not processed the panic yet, or that he believes that panic is unnecessary. He seems to process grief or loss differently to the others, in that he processes it either extremely slowly or not at all. He is logical and literal to a fault.

This, among a few smaller details, gave me the idea that - if anyone in the CG is autistic - it is Yellow. From this headcanon sprung other autistic traits: mostly his special interest in Minecraft logic and mechanics. Yellow is the second in the CG (with the first being TSC, hilariously) to use the computer world to his advantage (AVA8), and is the best with the Minecraft code (the staffs past AVMS3, redstone work, coding). He gets incredibly attached to new technical things, such as the staffs, command blocks and lucky blocks, and has a tendency to lose his common sense when indulging in these items (E19). His ability to take in the information quickly (AVE), alongside forming an obsessive fixation on code and mechanics and logic, gave me the idea of this being his core hyperfixation.

Red is ADHD, Yellow is ASD, Purple... is both.

One thing I noticed regarding body language is that, of the main six in the CG; Red, Yellow, and Purple are the most prone to performing repetitive movements, flapping their arms together and doing other odd wiggles.

Purple, like Red, shares an inconsistent drive - going from impatient and controlling (E9/E10) to hyperactive and overexcited (E21/E22) quickly. He is also very attached to particular objects, such as his elytra.

Purple, like Yellow, shares an inconsistent maturity - being a mix of both emotionally mature and immature. When surrounded by older figures such as King, he attaches quickly and hard, allowing himself to regress mentally (E22) and appear more childlike. This is to say that Purple contains both the ADHD traits in Red and the ASD traits in Yellow, suggesting that he may have both conditions, and have struggles regulating them.

Orange/The Second Coming has PTSD.

While this is a common HC from an angst perspective, I'm coming at this from an analytic point of view. TSC's core points of trauma that continue to affect him are the first half of AVA4, the entirety of AVA S2, and many events from AVM S1 - and these all share a common theme in death. TSC, at several points, has seen his friends almost and actually die - from AVA8, to AVM E8, when he's seen visibly dissociating after the accidental 'death' of Green.

This started with me simply identifying that TSC reacts badly to a lot of stressful situations. He is easily the most paranoid of the CG, being the one that directly rejects returning to the nether (E20), and also being prone to catastrophizing (E11). This paranoia also makes him prone to controlling the actions of others (E11, E20, E24) and getting angry when things don't go his way.

Speaking of anger, TSC has very poor anger management, but this mixes with his fear. The fight sequence in E24 has two main sections, separated by when TSC is holding back against Red, and when his anger takes over. Both at the start and end of the fight, TSC struggles to fight Red, mostly due to his own fear that he can go/has gone too far (AVAS2). When he does lose control, this is even proven as he tries to truly harm Red, and ends up frightening him (Red goes from instigating the fight to running away).

This is all to say that I feel TSC still struggles with the concept of death in the form of post-traumatic stress. Among all this, he also struggles with sleep (I identified him having hypersomniac traits rather than insomniac traits (AVM S2)), has issues trusting others (E20), and is incredibly attached to the people he has almost lost (namely Green but also the rest of the CG). These all come under both common and uncommon traits of childhood PTSD responses.

That was a lot.

The topic of my various analyses started in the Alan Becker server as I stuck my foot in there, but I also wanted to pass this onto Tumblr and Twitter. What do you think? I'd love to spark conversations with people, and also talk about more literal headcanons (I want to make a separate tumblr thread for that).

Either way, I hope this no-image, entirely-text post gave you some ideas or at least a look at how I feel about the CG and their responses to various situations. It's all part of how I write them and I would love to do more with these headcanons - but, for now, I merely talk.

Have a good one! - EMO

#rambles of the hermit hole #animator vs animation #animation vs minecraft #ava #avm #alan becker #ava green #ava yellow #ava purple #ava orange #ava the second coming #ava tsc #i didnt write all of this to not put it on the tags i'm sorry teehee

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deliciousangelfestival · 1 year ago

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Cozy Secrets || Chp 3

Character: Spy!Bucky x Roommate!Reader

Summary: Y/N found herself at her high school reunion, accompanied by her unexpected fake boyfriend, who also happened to be a spy.

Chp 1 , Chp 2, Chp 3, -

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Thank you to anyone who gave a like, reblog, and left a comment. It motivated me to write more.

The days turned into weeks, and there was still no sign of Bucky returning home. Y/N continued with her life, focusing on her work as an interior designer. Today's agenda involved meeting a new client, Mr. Kensington, an eccentric aristocrat who had recently acquired a house in New York.

Y/N arrived at the grand mansion, its façade oozing opulence and mystery. The butler led her through the elaborate corridors adorned with priceless artifacts until she reached Mr. Kensington's study. The room was filled with antique furniture, rare paintings, and an air of sophistication.

"Ah, Ms. Y/N, delighted to meet you," Mr. Kensington greeted with a flourish. He was a distinguished man, dressed in impeccable attire that matched the grandeur of his surroundings.

"The pleasure is mine, Mr. Kensington," Y/N replied, taking a seat.

Mr. Kensington wasted no time in getting to the point. "I've heard of your extraordinary skills in interior design, particularly your ability to keep matters discreet. I have a rather unique project for you."

Y/N nodded, intrigued. "I'm all ears. What do you have in mind?"

Mr. Kensington leaned forward, his eyes gleaming with a spark of excitement. "I need a secret vault hidden in my study. A concealed door, perhaps behind a bookshelf or a portrait. I trust you can handle such a task?"

A secret vault, Y/N thought, the intrigue deepening. She had designed various rooms and hidden spaces in the past, but this request added a layer of mystery she found intriguing.

"Of course, Mr. Kensington. Creating concealed spaces is my specialty. Do you have any specific preferences or themes for the hidden door?"

Mr. Kensington stroked his chin, contemplating. "I fancy the idea of a bookshelf that reveals the entrance when a particular book is pulled. As for the theme, surprise me. I enjoy the unexpected."

Y/N nodded, mentally noting down the details. "Very well. I'll start working on the design, and we can discuss any adjustments or additions as the project progresses."

"Excellent, Ms. Y/N. Money is no object, so spare no expense in ensuring the utmost secrecy and sophistication," Mr. Kensington declared with a sly smile.

As Y/N delved into the intricacies of the project, discussing potential materials, hidden mechanisms, and the overall aesthetic, she couldn't help but be drawn into Mr. Kensington's eccentric world.

Days turned into weeks as Y/N meticulously planned and executed the design for the hidden vault. Mr. Kensington, appreciating her dedication and creativity, granted her access to the entire mansion, including rooms filled with his vast collection of artifacts.

One day, while working in the study, Y/N felt a subtle change in the atmosphere. The workers seemed unfamiliar, and a hushed voice whispered, "Psst, it's me."

Startled, Y/N turned to see Bucky disguised as one of the workers. The realization dawned on her – Bucky had been undercover in Mr. Kensington's mansion all along.

"Y/N," Bucky greeted with a smirk, "Surprised to see me?"

A mixture of relief and curiosity washed over her. "Bucky, what on earth are you doing here?"

Bucky chuckled. "Let's just say, your client and I have a mutual interest in keeping things hidden."

Y/N's surprise at seeing Bucky in disguise quickly transformed into a mix of confusion and intrigue. As she absorbed the revelation that Bucky had been undercover, she couldn't help but wonder about the true nature of Mr. Kensington's secrets.

Bucky, maintaining his cover among the workers, approached Y/N with a conspiratorial glint in his eye. "Fancy meeting you here, Y/N. Turns out, our dear client has more than just a penchant for eccentric designs."

Y/N, still processing the information, replied with a subtle nod. She had become accustomed to the unexpected twists in her life, but this one took the cake.

Bucky leaned in, speaking in a low voice. "There's a nuclear code hidden within Mr. Kensington's vault. My mission is to retrieve it, but the security here is tighter than I anticipated."

Y/N raised an eyebrow, realizing the gravity of the situation. A nuclear code – a high-stakes game that transcended the realm of her usual discreet designs. She glanced at the intricately designed vault, wondering how it concealed such a dangerous secret.

"So, what's the plan?" Y/N asked, her words measured and composed.

Bucky explained the intricacies of the security systems and the need for Y/N's expertise. Her task was to create a diversion, something significant enough to draw attention away from the vault, while Bucky maneuvered through the mansion in pursuit of the elusive nuclear code.

As Y/N immersed herself in planning the diversion, she couldn't shake the feeling of being caught in a web of espionage and secrecy. The mansion, once a canvas for her creative designs, had transformed into a labyrinth of hidden agendas and dangerous secrets.

The night of the operation arrived, cloaked in shadows and suspense. Y/N, clad in dark attire, executed the diversion with precision. A well-timed malfunction in the mansion's power grid created chaos, diverting attention and leaving the security team scrambling to restore order.

In the midst of the commotion, Bucky, still disguised as a worker, stealthily navigated through the mansion. His every move calculated, blending seamlessly with the chaos Y/N had orchestrated.

As Bucky approached the vault, the tension escalated. The intricate mechanisms of Y/N's diversion worked their magic, creating a window of opportunity for Bucky to access the vault without raising suspicions.

However, just as Bucky reached for the vault's hidden entrance, an unexpected voice echoed through the study. "What's going on here?"

Y/N, stationed strategically to monitor the situation, recognized the voice – Mr. Kensington himself, drawn to the scene of the disturbance.

Bucky froze, his disguise momentarily at risk. Y/N, acting on instinct, stepped forward, her voice calm and authoritative. "Mr. Kensington, there's been a technical glitch. We're working to resolve it. Please return to a secure area."

Mr. Kensington scrutinized Y/N for a moment, his gaze piercing. Yet, something in her demeanor convinced him to heed her instructions. With a reluctant nod, he retreated from the study, leaving Y/N and Bucky in the tense aftermath.

As the seconds ticked away, Bucky resumed his mission. The hidden door creaked open, revealing the vault's mysterious contents. The nuclear code, concealed within a secure compartment, awaited extraction.

With the mission accomplished, Bucky discreetly exited the study, merging back into the chaos of the diversion. Y/N, maintaining her composed exterior, discreetly observed his retreat.

Once the mansion returned to a semblance of normalcy, Y/N and Bucky reconvened in a discreet location. The weight of the mission lingered between them, unspoken words echoing in the air.

"Thanks for the assist, Y/N," Bucky acknowledged, his gaze a mix of gratitude and an unspoken understanding.

As he prepared to depart, a sincere expression of gratitude painted his face. Bucky enveloped Y/N in a heartfelt hug.

"Y/N, you're a lifesaver," he whispered, the weight of unspoken appreciation hanging in the air. With a nod and a final glance, Bucky disappeared into the night, leaving Y/N to navigate the aftermath of espionage and the echoes of a world she had unexpectedly become a part of.

Y/N returned home, the events of the covert operation still playing in her mind like a suspenseful movie. The intricacies of espionage and the clandestine world were not something she had ever imagined becoming a part of, yet here she was, entangled in the mysteries that unfolded beyond her interior design projects.

The next day brought an unexpected visitor to her doorstep. A woman dressed in black, exuding an air of mystery, stood on her porch. She introduced herself as Natasha, a member of the same agency as Bucky.

"Y/N," Natasha began, her gaze sharp and assessing, "you handled the situation with Mr. Kensington admirably. You have a knack for navigating high-stakes scenarios. We could use someone like you."

Y/N, still processing the surreal turn of events, regarded Natasha with a mixture of curiosity and uncertainty. The agency, with its covert operations and hidden agendas, seemed like a world far removed from her artistic endeavors.

Natasha continued, "You've proven yourself resourceful and discreet. We have a proposal for you – join our ranks. Work with us, and your skills won't be limited to interior design."

Y/N hesitated, the weight of the decision hanging in the air. The quiet life she had known, filled with designs and creative projects, now stood at a crossroads. The allure of the unknown, coupled with the desire to unravel the mysteries that had become intertwined with her life, tugged at her curiosity.

"What do you say, Y/N?" Natasha inquired, her expression unreadable.

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Chp 1 , Chp 2 , Chp 3 ,-

Main Masterlist || buy me Ko-fi 🥹💓

Thank you to anyone who gave a like, reblog, and left a comment. It motivated me to write more.

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darthvashtique93 · 2 years ago

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A Cosmos In The Sand

Chapter 2

Raven sat at her vanity, dressed and surrounded in luxury, but feeling as depressed as ever. Her top was made from gold and iolite, spun by Slaede's personal magic weavers. It was tight and covered only her breasts. Her skirt was made from the same material. It barely covered her undergarment as there were slits on both sides. A 2-row coin anklet made from gold decorated one foot, while a thin, iolite thigh-ring adorned the opposite leg. A tiny iolite stone decorated her belly button. A finger-to-wrist hand bracelet with five rings weighed down her left hand. An iolite armband with gold chains wrapped around her right arm. The large hoop earrings were surprisingly, thankfully, very light. Raven always forgot she was wearing them until after she moved her head. Her eyes were lined with a dark kohl, bringing out the natural, violet hues. Finally, her hair – black as night but shone violet when either sunlight or moonlight hit it just right – fell straight down her back. She looked every bit the prized jewel Slaede made her to be. She hated it. The soldiers referred to her as Slaede's treasure, and Slaede dressed her as such.

Her traveling tent was just as decorated as her room back at the palace. The most comfortable throws, the softest pillows, and iolite incense burned her lungs. She was even allowed to ride Slaede's favorite horse, something she only did when she felt compelled to do so. And while she enjoyed the finest foods and wines, her family – her sisters – suffered in dungeons. Raven's service to Slaede was the only thing keeping them alive and safe from Slaede's most perverted guards.

Raven closed her eyes and prayed for respite from her burning lungs. Tears gathered behind her closed eyelids. She didn't know how much longer she could continue this…this façade. She loved her family, but she was beginning to wonder if they were worth the pain and agony. The innocent lives lost because of you, her subconscious reminded her. Raven tried not to think of the screams of those dying at the hands of Slaede's army, but they flooded her dreams. She honestly couldn't remember the last good night's sleep she had.

A sob broke through Raven's painted lips. She was so tired – tired of being afraid, tired of feeling worried, tired of being tired.

Opening her eyes, Raven spoke, "I know you're there." She was greeted by silence. Turning on her stool, Raven faced her seemingly empty tent and spoke again, "Don't I deserve to see the face of my would-be assassin?" Scanning the tent, Raven's eyes came to rest on a dark corner, where a shadow seemed to emerge from a shadow. The warrior stepped into the light. He was tall – at least a head taller than Slaede. He was muscular, darkly tanned, and his eyes were a strange mix of green gold. The hatred that burned in his eyes seared her skin "You've been betrayed, Ibn al Xu'ffasch," Raven continued.

The warrior froze, a question marred his handsome face. "You know my name," the warrior stated in disgust.

"And I know why you're here, Damyan," Raven replied. She opened her mouth to say more when she felt a burst of energy in her soul. Colors of every kind swirled in her eyes. Multiple visions of the same event played in her mind. Suddenly, she saw her salvation – multiple ways to freedom that began and ended with him. She needed him. He needed to survive this night. "You-you've been betrayed," Raven repeated while her mind fought to come up with a plan to ensure her assassin's safety. "You-you've…" she paused as she willed her brain to think faster. Confusion swept crossed the face of Ibn al Xu-ffasch. It was quickly replaced by hate. He drew his weapon, but before he could take a single step, soldiers flooded Raven's tent, surrounding him. Shock and anger quickly replaced the hate on his face. But it was too late for him. His momentary lapse in focus allowed 10 of Slaede's finest soldiers the opportunity to rush him. Before Raven could think, Damyan was bound to a beam supporting Raven's tent.

"Well, well, well," Slaede was heard before he was seen. His soldiers parted, making room for Slaede to stride up to Damyan at a leisurely pace. "You look so surprised," Slaede smirked up at the young man. Damyan looked past Slaede. "You!" he spat at the short figure standing behind Slaede. "You betrayed us!"

"I did," the figure, Mara, smiled brightly. "Grandfather really should have listened to you. Alas, the old man was surprised when I slit his throat. I could tell…by the look on his face," she held up the decapitated head of Ra's al Ghul. Raven was surprised to see sorrow fill Damyan's face. He must have really loved the old man. "Here," Mara tossed the head at Slaede's feet. "By my grandfather's head, I pledge my allegiance," she bowed her head.

"I welcome you with open arms," Slaede said.

"Father!" another voice called out. Raven scowled at the sound of the voice. "Look who I found!" Graent dragged a squirming female behind him. Raven had no idea who the female was, but judging by his aesthetics, she was Damyan's mother.

"Ama!" Damyan gasped as the woman was forced to the ground.

"Hello, Talia," Slaede walked to the woman and smirked down at her. "You know, Damyan, in another life, I would have been your birth father. Who knows? Maybe the King of Go-tham would still be alive had Ra's given me your mother as promised," he angrily grabbed Talia's face. "Maybe I'll have her anyway," he smirked evilly.

"I'd rather die," Talia sneered.

"That will be arranged," Slaede marched over to a bound Damyan and searched him. Behind Slaede's back, Raven looked to see Talia staring up at her. Please save my son, Raven heard Talia's voice in her head. Raven looked at her in shock. Save him, Talia spoke again, and he will save you. Raven gave a minute nod.

"Here it is," Slaede pulled a knife from Damyan's ankle. "I'll give you another chance, Talia. Swear allegiance to me."

"Damn you."

"Fine." Grabbing Talia by the hair, he plunged the knife directly into her throat.

"Ama!" Damyan yelled out, and the sound tore at Raven's heartstrings. Talia fell to the ground as a gurgling sound came from her throat as she choked on her own blood. Raven looked away from the macabre sight, but instantly regretted it when she met Damyan's hateful gaze. "I'm going to kill you, sorceress," he growled, and Raven had to step back at the wave of hate she sensed coming from him. Yes, Raven thought, I can use this.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/14253019/1/A-Cosmos-In-The-Sand

#damian wayne x raven #damirae #Robin/Raven #Robin x Raven #damian wayne x rachel roth

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luxury-residences · 9 months ago

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frontageexterior · 2 days ago

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WPC L Corners: The Perfect Finish for Modern Exterior Designs

Details are everything in contemporary architecture. Every corner and crevice of your exterior, every intersection point, demands a neat, clean, and long-lasting finish. That is where WPC L Corners step in—providing the ideal combination of durability, looks, and protection for your outdoor spaces.

Regardless of whether you're finishing off a cladding job, resurfacing balcony trim or resurfacing architectural transitions, Frontage WPC L Corners provide the durability of composite components with wood grain look—in the absence of disadvantages of conventional timber. WPC L Corners are L-shaped Wood Plastic Composite (WPC) trims that are specially used to cover and enclose the exposed wall edges, beams, columns, and cladding panels. They need to complete exterior spaces both functionally and aesthetically—weather stress protection for buildings as well as optimizing overall beauty in architecture.

They're also specially ideal for corners where other materials crack, chip, or weather-damage. You have a tough, low-maintenance finish with Frontage's innovative WPC technology that not only appears good but functions even better.

Why Choose Frontage WPC L Corners?

✅ High Strength & Outdoor Durability

WPC L Corners are weather-proof and will not be damaged by heavy rains, direct exposure to sun, or fluctuating temperatures. They will not warp, split, or decay, keeping your corners sharp and intact for years to come.

✅ Waterproof & Termite Resistant

WPC is insect-proof and non-porous, unlike wood. WPC L Corners are swelling-proof, rot-proof, and pest-proof, meaning they are the best for outdoor long-term use without the requirement of periodical treatment and inspection.

✅ Hassle-Free & Easy Installation

WPC L Corners are heavy-duty but not heavy and are easy to install, cut, and maintain—perfect for professionals and DIYers. They can simply be installed using common adhesives or screws with little efforts.

✅ Eco-Friendly Material

WPC L Corners are green and environmentally friendly, they are recycled plastic and reclaimed wood made from it. It is the best material for you when you are designing a green building or wish to cut down on carbon emissions.

✅ Multi-purpose finishing option

Frontage provides WPC L Corners of color, texture, and finish to match or mix with your wall panels, louvers, or cladding. From wood finishes to matte finish, the corners finish off your building.

Uses of WPC L Corners

Ease of design and usage of WPC L Corners has them utilized in numerous architectural uses, which include:

Exterior Wall Corners

Provide a clean and shielded finish to exterior wall corners. WPC L Corners envelop and seal the points of intersection of walls, avoiding cracks and improving symmetry.

Beam & Column Edging

Such edgings provide aesthetic simplicity and strength to columns and beams. Particularly suited in open buildings, verandas, or terraces where exposure is excessive.

Balcony & Terrace Trim

Design balcony railings or terrace edges with clean, smooth transitions. The material minimizes wear and tear in wet or sun-exposed situations.

Cladding Transitions

Provide for smooth transitions between panels of cladding or between different surfaces. WPC L Corners offer a professional, finished appearance to any façade system or wall.

Decorative Trims & Framing

Utilize as trim pieces for architectural building elements, feature walls, or highlight residential and commercial building cladding designs.

Benefits at a Glance

✔ Long Lasting Weather Protection

✔ Resists Moisture, Termites & Fading

✔ Lightweight, Easy to Cut & Fit

✔ Eco-Friendly, Environmentally Sustainable Product

✔ Variety of Color & Texture Options

✔ Do Not Paint or Polish

✔ Suitable for Residential & Commercial Use

FAQs – WPC L Corners

Q1: In what standard sizes are they?

A: Frontage WPC L Corners are available in an assortment of sizes that can be scaled to fit a wide range of edge uses. Standard profiles can be modified to meet project requirements.

Q2: Are they suitable for indoor use?

A: They can be used indoors, though primarily intended for exterior use, they can also be installed indoors in column trim, ceiling border, or accent wall applications.

Q3: Do they lighten or bleach when exposed to sunlight?

A: No. WPC L Corners are UV-stabilized to prevent bleaching, meaning your finishes stay bright and gorgeous for years to come.

Q4: How do I care for WPC L Corners?

A: Extremely easy—wipe every now and then with water and mild soap. Don't need to paint, stain, or seal them.

Q5: Will they be compatible with any WPC wall panels and louvers?

A: Yes. Frontage L Corners are specifically made to be in harmony with and complement all the standard WPC wall panels, louvers, and cladding products perfectly.

Q6: Do I need a professional to install it?

A: Not exactly. The product is simple to install, but if there is large-sized or complex decorative work involved, professional assistance is advisable.

Conclusion: Finish Smart with Frontage WPC L Corners

In each building design, corners are more than points of structural intersection— they're statements of style. With Frontage WPC L Corners, you're inserting strength, beauty, and smart engineering into those finishing intersections.

For that stunning exterior wall, chic terrace, or wrap-clad commercial facade, WPC L Corners are the perfect edge—ryptically and literally. They're strong, fashionable, eco-friendly, and for all contemporary buildings.

Let's get your project done the right way.

Call Frontage Exteriors today for samples, special size orders, or to inquire about the color and texture selection of our top-quality WPC L Corners.

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homedesignssydney · 3 days ago

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Sydney’s Trending Display Home Designs in 2025

Sydney’s property market continues to evolve, and in 2025, display homes are showcasing a new era of style, functionality, and smart design. Whether you’re exploring Display Homes Sydney to find your dream home or investing in Home & Land Packages, understanding the latest Home Designs will give you an edge. Here’s what’s trending in Sydney’s display home scene this year, from luxurious Single Storey layouts to innovative solutions for Narrow Blocks.

The Rise of Contemporary Home Designs

In 2025, Sydney’s homebuyers are gravitating toward open-plan Home Designs that blend indoor and outdoor living. Builders are focusing on maximising light, space, and energy efficiency. Expect to see striking façades with a mix of natural materials, like stone and timber, paired with sleek lines and large windows.

Modern kitchens remain the heart of these homes, with expansive islands, integrated storage, and premium finishes. Living areas flow seamlessly into alfresco spaces, perfect for Sydney’s outdoor lifestyle. Smart home technology is also a key feature, with integrated systems for lighting, security, and climate control.

Display Homes Sydney: Showcasing Innovation

Display Homes Sydney are more than just showpieces they’re a window into what’s possible. Leading builders are using display homes to highlight the latest trends and features in Home Designs. These homes demonstrate everything from clever floorplans for growing families to compact options ideal for urban living.

In 2025, visiting display homes is an essential step for buyers who want to see firsthand how new design concepts can be adapted to their block size, lifestyle, and budget. Builders often offer Home & Land Packages that make it easy to secure a new home and block in one transaction, simplifying the process and providing cost transparency.

Single Storey Designs: Spacious & Practical

For many Sydneysiders, Single Storey homes continue to be a popular choice, especially for families with young children or downsizers seeking easy accessibility. Today’s Single Storey designs offer spacious open-plan living, generous bedrooms, and multiple living areas, all on one level.

Builders are innovating by integrating features that feel luxurious yet practical like grand entryways, media rooms, and large walk-in pantries. These homes are often designed to suit a wide range of block shapes, including Narrow Blocks, making them a versatile option across Sydney’s suburbs.

Duplex and Dual Living Options: Maximising Space & Investment Potential

In Sydney’s competitive property market, Duplex and Dual Living designs have surged in popularity. Duplexes two separate dwellings on a single block allow homeowners to generate rental income, accommodate extended family, or simply future-proof their investment.

Dual Living designs take this concept further by offering independent living spaces under one roof, perfect for multi-generational families or owners who want a flexible layout for guests or tenants. Many builders now offer turnkey duplex and dual living Home & Land Packages, providing an attractive solution for savvy buyers looking to maximise their property’s potential.

Designing for Narrow Blocks: Smart, Stylish Solutions

As Sydney becomes denser, Narrow Blocks are increasingly common, especially in inner and middle-ring suburbs. Builders have responded with smart Home Designs that make the most of every square metre without compromising on comfort or style.

In 2025, trending narrow block designs feature clever use of vertical space, light wells, and open-plan zones to create a sense of spaciousness. Floorplans often include courtyards or rooftop terraces, bringing natural light into the home and providing private outdoor spaces. Builders are also focusing on façades that give narrow homes strong street presence, helping them stand out despite tighter frontage.

Why Home & Land Packages Are Gaining Popularity

For many Sydney buyers, Home & Land Packages offer a stress-free path to owning a new home. With packages, buyers secure a new build and a suitable block at a fixed price minimising unexpected costs and delays. Builders offer packages tailored to a variety of Home Designs, from Single Storey layouts ideal for Narrow Blocks to spacious Duplex and Dual Living options.

These packages are especially attractive to first-home buyers and investors, as they streamline the process and offer greater certainty compared to buying an existing property or organising land and construction separately.

Tips for Choosing the Right Display Home Design

When exploring Display Homes Sydney, consider your lifestyle, family needs, and future plans. If you’re planning to stay long-term, think about how your needs may evolve over time will a Dual Living or Duplex design provide flexibility for future generations? Do you need a Single Storey home for easy mobility?

It’s also crucial to consider your block size and shape. Narrow Blocks require designs that maximise space without feeling cramped, while wider blocks allow for more traditional layouts.

Finally, don’t overlook the benefits of Home & Land Packages they often come with inclusions like landscaping, fencing, and driveways, giving you a move-in ready home with fewer surprises.

In Conclusion

Sydney’s display homes in 2025 reflect a city embracing modern living, clever design, and flexible solutions. From cutting-edge Home Designs on Narrow Blocks to income-generating Duplex and Dual Living options, today’s Display Homes Sydney cater to diverse needs and aspirations. Whether you’re seeking a Single Storey family haven or a savvy investment through Home & Land Packages, Sydney’s builders are ready to turn your vision into reality.

#Duplex

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