#batwing drawer pulls

[british-carbaryl-blog]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: 9 Vtg Colonial Batwing Style Drop Handle Drawer Pull Hardware 2 keyhole covers.

[sofiasshabbyprairie]

SofiasCobwebMuseum

#vintage drawer pulls #1960s mid century hardware #batwing drawer pulls #vintage chippendale style hardware #brass pineapple hardware

[batarella]

3 birds 1 stone - chapter 1

‘Dick, Jason, and Tim. Supposed brothers 'till the end, until all three fall in love with you. Who wins your heart?

 The man who earned it, the man who stole it, or the man who always had it?’

A/N: Having a different approach to my formats. I’ve never been so nervous in creating something so difficult to do for you guys, especially since I’m here writing about the THREE HOTTEST MEN IN THE PLANET. Hoes and bros, I present to you a very indecisive reader and three assholes in a WWE ring.

WORDS: 6483 WARNINGS: NONE

 MASTERLIST | 3 BIRDS 1 STONE MASTERLIST

-----

You were there when it happened.

You didn’t want to be there.

But you were.

It would have been an eventful enough day, one of those you’d never live to forget, perhaps even in death. As dramatic as that would sound, it was true. The tears had already beaten you in awakening that dim morning and you knew it wasn’t in any way going to get any brighter, no matter how much of the sun was going to show up. You could, in detail, recall the sting in your muscles when you pulled on that bright orange dress, fixed your hair up in a bun and unenthusiastically put on your makeup. Bruce picked you up and you tried so hard to hide how you were practically dead on arrival to the Richard Grayson and Koriand’r Wedding.

Smiles. Even when they were uncalled for. It was so much more painful to do when it hurt every minute that ticked away, every second that carefully tore out every other smidge of hope you always thought there was. It was on you, then. For thinking there was any at all.

Kory looked stunning down that aisle, of course. Like all the other people in the room were rubbish. You couldn’t even watch her. Or him, standing at the end of that aisle with a smile so bright you wished was caused by anything else but her. But it was.

So you had your eyes closed. Or at least tried to.

Until it happened.

The sister. She looked exactly like Kori, except her flowing mane of hair was jet black and her skin burned red. Eyes were white, everything else she had on was dark. Blackfire.

Then the cheers turned into screams. Flower petals turned into broken glass. The fairy lights and décor turned into fire beams and lasers.

If it weren’t in a room full of superpowered heroes and vigilantes, they all would have died right then and there.

In the end, the wedding got called off. Everything was destroyed. Blackfire was sent to space prison and Dick and Kory had to reschedule the wedding.

Three months later, they still weren’t married.

After four months, Dick broke off their relationship entirely.

Five months passed, Kory went back to Tamaran.

At six months, Dick moved to Gotham from Bludhaven.

You never got to talk to Dick about it, or talk to him at all beyond the small exchanges and light conversations over the dinner table at the manor or the chatter by the fireplace. He never mentioned it. You didn’t want to pry. At times, you’d see how he’d stare at the carpet for a minute too long, how his knee suddenly stopped shaking or fidgeting all of a sudden when he got too deep into his thoughts like how he often did when he was bored, and how his laughs felt just a tad bit softer even when the jokes were hysterical.

Everyone told you to let him be for a while, since not even he could get too close to the subject. They told you what he was up to, how he was feeling that day. You tend to ask a lot. Because if there was anything worse than seeing him with someone else, it was seeing him almost destroy his own life part by part over the loss of his love.

No. You weren’t thrilled over what happened. It didn’t give you hope, or let your mind wander over the endless possibilities of what could happen to you, to him, to you both. And even if you had to try so hard, which you didn’t, you couldn’t possibly allow yourself to have some kind of satisfaction over the tragedy, not even when it supposedly served you, what you wanted.

This wasn’t what you wanted. You didn’t want him to lose himself. You didn’t want him to be sunken into an abyss he was trying so hard to come out of.

Eventually, you’ll learn to let go. Properly. On your own pace. Not on anyone else’s.

Almost a year since the incident happened. He was okay now. Made the same jokes he always used to. Brightened up every room he went to. Went out with a few women every now and then. Saying you were used to that last one to the point where it didn’t even bother you anymore was both unnerving and understandable.

Everything was lighter now. Better. Dick was okay.

So why were you so nervous today?

Two pm. He was going to arrive any minute.

Dammit. That canvas. Lying on the floor like you were some kind of slob in a swamp. You went over and placed it against the wall. Plop, it fell right off. Cursing and fixing it up against all the other canvases up in the corner, everything just started to topple down like fucking dominos. “Shit. Shit. Shit.”

You grabbed all the canvases with as much as your arms could carry, frantically looked around your little studio for some kind of rope you could tie these together just so they wouldn’t explode in anyone’s face.

Ding.

“Shiiiii-“

The fucking doorbell, and you didn’t even have any arms to open the door with. You looked to your bedroom, then to your kitchen. Fuck. There was a drawer-shit, it fell to the floor-a drawer right by your bed. You scrambled with your knees shaking harder than the San Andreas fault.

Ding.

“Just a minute!!!”

You stacked them on top of each other, shoved them under your bed, then fixed the mess of a cobweb that was your hair. The mirror must have been kind to you ‘cause you could have sworn you looked like a hobo by now. But there wasn’t any time for that.

Foggy throat cleared, face calm and cool (you hoped), you ran to the door and shook off the nerves.

“Hi, Di-” The door slammed open, only for it to almost pull off the hinges with the chain lock still on. Frantically, you closed it , took off the lock, then swung it again.

“Hi.”

Dick had his hands in his pockets, jacket as blue as his eyes and as bright as the glimmer in its irises. His smile brought both calm and chaos within your veins.

“Sorry. I, uh-“ your thumb pointed to your apartment. “I was cleaning.”

Cleaning?

“That’s okay. Can I come in?”

Poor thing was shivering. “Of course!”

Dick stepped into your apartment and dusted off his clothes. You took his jacket. “Thanks.” Then he ran his long fingers along his black strands.

Putting his coat over the rack, you pulled out the pillows from your lounge chair. “Sit here.”

“It’s fine.” His smile lightened up the room. “Thank you though.”

“Can I get you anything?”

“Just water. Thanks.”

While you went into the kitchen, fumbling with the glass and water pitcher from the fridge, you called out to him. “You can go ahead to my studio!”

“Thanks,” you heard him call you back, then you followed him into the room, handing him the glass.

You already had the paintings lined up for him. Three canvases. Sitting up against the wall in a laid back, almost effortless looking arrangement when in fact, it was a lot of effort. You didn’t want to look like you were trying too hard.

“Christ,” he walked over to the one in the middle. The most recent one you did, one of a birds eye view of the ocean right by the Gotham City docks. “How did you even get this shot?”

“I-uh,” you stood beside him. “It’s a shot from the Batwing. Bruce gave me the footage.”

“And that one?”

Times Square. The building was the only thing on the canvas, but there was so much detail on the windows, on the balconies, and even the neon lights right at the top.

“I took pictures from the street across. They wouldn’t let me stay there with an aisle and all my tools.”

His one knee laying on the ground, Dick took an even closer look at the tower. “Is that a person in the window?”

You looked down. “Yeah…”

“These are incredible.” Dick looked up at you. “I think I’d insult you if I tell you I’m surprised.”

“Well. It was your idea to focus on painting. The blames on you.”

“Nah,” he shook his head, marveling over the canvas. “This is natural talent right here.”

You wished you could bite back the smile as much as you would have liked, but at least his head was turned away.

“How much for these?”

“No. Actually,” you swallowed. “Those are just samples. I wanna make something for you from scratch. Really personalized, you know?”

“Seriously?”

You nodded. “Since you’re permanently moving back to the manor, I thought it would make a good welcome back present.”

His smile was the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen, looking over to you bashfully even when he’s most often the most confident person in the room. You smiled back, but you doubt it was as addicting to watch as his own.

“If it’s not too much trouble-“

“Not at all.”

“I’m really liking this one, though,” He pointed at the third one. One of Bludhaven. From a shot of the city he sent to you himself. Most of the time, you had to work with pictures, and the moment he sent that to you, you just knew you had to paint it. Not for him. For you.

“I’ll make you another one.”

“Y/N-“

“And you don’t have to pay-“

“That, I won't agree to.”

“Dick, it’s a present.”

“This is my way of supporting you. Artists should never do this for free.”

When he placed his hand on your shoulder, you knew there wasn’t any use arguing. He didn’t even know. He’s given you so much support no monetary value could compare to. You didn’t need money.

That, or he didn’t think this present was anything more than a favor or an item to purchase. It shouldn’t be. You knew that. And still you wanted it to be more than that.

Yeah. You were probably making a goof out of yourself if you wouldn’t submit.

This wasn’t a rejection. Telling yourself that should make you feel better.

“Thank you.”

You didn’t look into his eyes when he started walking around the room, at all the other paintings you had laid out. You had a few portraits. One of Bruce, from when he asked you to do one for him a month ago and you still hadn’t finished until now. Who knew his usual scowl was so hard to do? Then there were more landscapes of the city.

“Gotham’s your muse, huh?”

“She’s beautiful when she isn’t so full of shit,” you laughed.

One of more skyscrapers that you laid out to look like Van Gogh’s Starry Night. Another of your works in progress. “I like this one.”

You were right behind Dick as he walked around, taking closer looks at each of them. A few drawings were up on the walls.

“Is that us?”

You went over to his side. “Yeah… It’s a painting I want to do.”

A rough sketch of the whole family. Bruce standing at the top most of the manor’s grand staircase. Dick on the step below. Then Jason leaning against the railing, the only one who wasn’t smiling. Tim sitting with his knees up. Barbara looking beautiful in a bright smile on the same step as Tim. Then Steph sitting on the railway. You standing right beside Steph, arm wrapped around her. Cass with her arms crossed. Duke at the bottom . Then of course, the kid who practically owned the whole manor, little Damian on the ground, at the center with a smug grin and his arms up his chest.

Even if people were to take a second look, they’d think you were a normal, functional family.

“This,” Dick’s jaw was on the ground. “Deserves to be up in the fireplace.”

You snorted. “I haven’t even started on it yet.”

“Oh, I don’t mean the painting. This drawing alone is fantastic.”

You rolled your eyes. “Thank you.”

Biting his lips, he had that same simper of disbelief radiating through even more compliments you couldn’t answer to. You let it get to you. For a while.

It wasn’t exactly going to get any better.

Though your definition of better, shouldn’t be at there all.

“Y/N, I can’t thank you enough.”

You held up your hand. “You’ve been gone from home for too long. I’m just glad your back.”

He walked down to the three paintings you had out for him. “So these paintings are just samples?”

“Yeah. I wanna know which kind you prefer, since you only asked of one of the city. It can be neither of them. Just something that you actually want in your room.”

“Y/N, these are all so amazing as it is.”

“Still.”

Were you doing too much? Were you asking too much? Were you giving too much?

Most fucking probably.

But then he gave you that smile again, the one you dream about for years. One that’s driven you to do so many good things, for others and for yourself.

Your response was with a smile of your own, though it carried with it some remnant of pain from his wedding day.

“So… which one would you like?”

He looked at the paintings again.

“Bludhaven. I guess it would be nice to have some part of it in my room.”

You nodded. “Of course.”

“Trust me. Don’t feel any pressure. I can promise myself this will be the best thing ever.”

Your eyes were stuck to your feet, because if you looked up at his own, you weren’t sure what you might end up saying.

“Thank you. It means a lot. Coming from you.”

His eyebrows were up to his forehead. “Really? I don’t think there’s anyone who doesn’t like your work.”

Yeah. But it’s not the same when it’s coming from you, you asshat.

“I’ll uh-“ You rushed over to your sketchbooks, pulled out your pencil and went over beside Dick. He was smiling at you. “What do you think about the skyline looking like this? Like it was taken from eastern bay.”

You did a quick outline of skyscrapers and a bridge extending to one side, a lone island and clouds on top of it. He nodded. “That looks great.”

“Alright,” you looked up, saw the slight lines at the corners of his eyes and the even more miniscule details on his face that was staring back at you.

“Nice sketchbook.”

“Oh,” you grinned at it, looking over the knitted covers and the expensive looking paper that had hundreds of leaves within its spine. “Thank you. I get one of these every year.”

“You buy them yourself?”

“I don’t. They’re way too expensive.” You placed it on the table. “I get them as a gift.”

“From who?”

“I, uh...” you didn’t want to get into this. “Anyway, would you like to stay over?”

Dick shook his head. “I’d love to, but I have to get going. Some other errands to run. Sorry.”

You nodded. “Of course.”

Hands fidgeting, then stopping when you realized they were fidgeting, Dick stood in front of you and beamed with his million dollar smile. You tried not to look back up at him.

“How are you, Y/N?”

You chuckled. “I’m okay.”

“We’d all love for you to come back to the manor…” He rubbed the back of his neck.

Lips in your teeth, he didn’t look like he was expecting much of a response other than a bashful smile and a shake in your head.

“I mean… I’d love for you to come back to the manor.”

Eyebrows up, you stared back at him. “You would?”

“Of course. It’s been a long since we just hung out. Stop over every once in a while.”

“I, uh-“ you swallowed. “I actually do have to go there next week. Bruce is asking me to send over his pieces.”

“Cool. I’ll see you then.”

You went with him to the door, watched him put on his jacket. “I’ll call”

“Come on, don’t act like I’m some stranger, Y/N.”

It was sad, how casual it was when he pulled you with his arms. His embrace wasn’t so tight, but it was warm. Nose stuck to his shoulder and masking your other raging emotions with a light laugh, you closed your eyes and let the split second last longer than it actually did.

Yeah. You still had it bad. No matter what you seemed to do, it just wouldn’t go away.

He swayed about, patting your back. “Thank you, Y/N.”

“You’re welcome.”

“And,” he pointed his hand at you, then scrunched it up to a fist. “Send me a list of movies you wanna watch. We’ll go through a few of them at the manor. Like we used to.”

“With everyone else?”

“Nah,” he placed his hands in his pockets. “Just us.”

He walked out the door. You closed it behind him and placed the chain lock back.

That encounter lasted ten, fifteen minutes?

It felt both longer and shorter than that. Like a thousand years and a millisecond were the same length.

You were just thankful you didn’t mess up or do anything as embarrassing as you worried it might be.

But it wasn’t as if it was new, or that the nerves and the chills and the blood rushing about was anything you weren’t already used to. Careful around him, sure. You had been since you first met him. But terrified? Nah.

You can be so used to walking around coals and fire and not be afraid of getting burned, yet still have it in you to wear something to protect your skin. Just for the sake of surviving. To get through it smoothly. So it wouldn’t hurt as much.

You slumped onto the lounge chair he didn’t take and closed your eyes. You let the hours pass. You let the clock tick away.

Then you jumped at the buzzing in your pocket. Blinking away the beginnings of a nap, you took your phone.

“Tim?”

“Y/N. You free tonight?”

Two hours had passed since Dick left.

“Yeah. What are you up to?”

“Work. I need company.”

“You sure Bruce is okay with you not going to patrol?”

“He has everyone else. Come on. I’m spending the night at the office.”

“Why me?“

“You can bring your sketchbook. ‘Sides. You haven’t been out of the house for a while.”

“The pictures you send me are good enough source material.”

“You draw a lot better when you’re seeing it with your own eyes.”

Standing from your chair and moving over to get your sketchbook and pencils, you scoffed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know where to meet me.”

He hung up, then you scurried around to get your coat.

-----

“Ms. Y/LN.”

You nodded at the doorman, bag over your shoulder. A number of people were already rushing out of the elevators even when it had only been a minute after office hours, so you had to wait a while before an empty one came down for you.

50th floor. A few minutes of silence in the elevator, then you walked out into a dimmed-out hallway where the other employees had already deserted. The farthest end was a door, unlocked just as Tim said. You stepped inside his office and shrugged yourself off your jacket. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

Tim had his reddening eyes glued to his laptop screen, not even giving you a glance up. Tapping away at the keys, you stretched out and basked in the blowing warmth, at the heater that was running at the side. Holding your hands up at the whiff of air, Tim fell to the back of his seat.

“Christ, my back.”

You snickered. “We do tend to get arthritis even when we’re barely into our twenties.”

“No. We usually don’t.”

“Not if you’re Tim Drake.” You walked over to his desk. “What are you working on?”

“Stuff that Bruce shouldn’t be asking from me in two days. A report on why and how we’ll be able to extend to the west coast, if it’s even possible.”

“Wow. Are you endorsing it?”

“I invented it.”

You brushed back the hair he hadn’t even noticed had fallen into his eyes. One of the reasons why it was almost bulging red. Your exhausted best friend took your hand away and snarled, though it wasn’t without a smirk.

“Then quit complaining. If it’s your idea, it’s your job.”

“I complained about back pains, not the work.”

You leaned back against the table and watched him type.

“Are you really spending the night here?”

“As long as I have to. Then I head back to the manor.”

“And you want me to stay?”

He stopped typing and looked up at you, eyes wide. “Please.”

“Fine.”

You settled yourself on the couch near his desk. “What have you been working on lately?” he asked.

Shrugging, your eyes were on the ceiling. “The portraits for Bruce, mostly. And the portrait of Bruce.”

“I assume that must be dreadful.”

“It’s hard painting his jaw and not give away the fact that he has Batman’s jaw.” You held your hand out. “You just need to cover his eyes and squint. And boom, his identity’s given away. Can’t do that in person but you certainly can to a painting he wants on his foyer that everybody’s gonna see.”

“I never actually thought Bruce wants that.”

“Neither did I.”

“What are his other requests?”

“One of Thomas and Martha. One of the manor.”

“The man wants a painting of the manor in the manor?”

“Yup.”

“When you have the money, I guess.”

“I know. He’s paying me five months’ worth of rent.”

Tim rubbed on the corner of his eye, his hands hovering motionless over his keyboard for a second. You looked over to him.

“You don’t have to, you know. If you just move back with us.”

“I know.”

“You sure you don’t want to? With Dick around now?”

Mouth ever so slightly curving up the side, a long breath escaped your nostrils. “I’m over him.”

“You sure about that?”

When you turned back up to the ceiling, closed your eyes while you had your arms hugging your chest, you heard him tapping on his keyboard after a few seconds of you not answering his question.

“He came over to your house today?”

“Yeah. I’m doing a piece for him.”

“What of?”

“Bludhaven. For his room.”

“Welcome back gift, ey?”

“Yeah. I hope he likes it.”

It almost seemed like he snorted at that. “He’d be stupid not to. I was also gonna ask you to do a piece for me.”

Your eyebrow raised even with your eyes closed. “Really?”

“Yeah. For my office.”

“Tim, I’m doing just fine. I’m not exactly surrounded by butlers and limos but it doesn’t mean I’m struggling.”

“Hey, don’t take it that way,” he said. “We all just love your work.”

“A bit too much, if you ask me.”

“You get better everyday. We’re appreciating it just enough. Like how you deserve to be appreciated.”

You didn’t take that to heart.

This painting all started as a way to let out the trauma, to get out of a life that had taken its toll on you the worst way it possibly could.

This was them feeling bad for you. This was a charity.

It didn’t, however, mean you were going to say no.

You hated it, but you weren’t stupid enough to refuse the cash. You liked having nice things.

“What piece would you like me to do?”

“Your call. You know what I like.”

‘Almost everything then, that’s what you wanted to say back.

A while of lounging around on the couch. A few hours, perhaps. You might have taken a nap, because your head had gone foggy and your eyes were salty when you awoke and the sky had gone completely dark.

“Tim, you should take a break.”

Was that his third cup of coffee sitting on his desk?

Again, with his hair covering his eyes, he had his one hand over his lips, eyes narrowed onto the blue screen that looked painful staring back at him so brightly. He sighed, then rubbed his eyelids with his fingers.

“Come on.” You took his jacket and threw it at him. “Take me up the balcony. Get some air.”

He looked too exhausted to speak. But after you’d gone over to his side and pushed his shoulder, he hissed and closed his laptop. “Fine, jeez.”

Tim looked like a polar bear pulled out of his iceberg when you had him off his desk. He shuffled into his coat, then you both walked out of the room and into the elevators. You held onto your sketchbook and a few pencils.

The balcony at the 70th floor. You haven’t been there for a while. You actually haven’t been in Wayne Tower the past few months at all. So when you stepped out, walked down the hall until you reached the balcony, the heights, the winds, the lights, and the stuttering noises went straight through you, gave you that static-like image that usually resonated within your senses when you sketched out Gotham City.

You sat on the marble railing, swung your legs up on the ledge and placed your sketchbook against your knees.

“You sure you wanna do that?”

You rolled your eyes. “Stop acting like I didn’t use to jump across rooftops.”

Tim was stifling a laugh, not sure if he should. So you pulled out an empty page and started with LexCorp a few blocks away from you. Tim went to sit next to you, then pressed his back against yours while pulling his feet up the same position. He was warm, leverage enough so your back wouldn’t end up hurting after a few minutes. He let you have your silence.

A wide balcony. Half of the page should be of it alone. Though it was just the silhouette, you traced out how the railings looked like if you were standing a few feet back.

Your head tilted to the left the way it does when you went on with your work.

You felt Tim’s back rise, then slowly soften.

“You alright back there?”

“Yeah. I am.”

“You don’t feel like it.”

“I am.” You felt his shoulder slightly brush against yours. You just shook it off then let the edge of the pencil flow lightly over what should be the sky.

A few more minutes, then a helicopter flew over your heads. When it went away, Tim’s head suddenly fell back to your shoulder.

Warmth. Like what he’s always given you. You stayed as still as you could and let the smile that was eventual and gradual creep up your lips.

“You’ll fall off if you fall asleep on me.”

“I think all that coffee’s not going to make me fall asleep for the next few days.”

Laughing, you just let him lean against you. then his head shifted so he was looking over your shoulder.

“That’s looking good.”

“You think?” You held up the notebook. “That’s us.”

Two kids sitting on the railings, with the view of the city right at their feet. Backs up against each other, shaded with the darkest black. The girl was leaning against the boy’s shoulder, quite the opposite of what was actually going on.

You felt Tim smile his mouth off. “Can I have that?”

“Hold on. Lemme finish this.”

The bat signal. Shining right at the horizon. Then you went over more of the details. The tiny lights on the windows. The helicopter that just passed by. The ocean far off.

Tim was watching you.

Not your hand. Or the drawing.

You.

A few more minutes, then you carefully ripped the page off the book. “Here.”

“Thanks.”

He folded it up, then carefully put it into his pocket. Then he placed his head against your shoulder again.

You did the same.

“I missed you.”

You laughed. “It’s not like we don’t see each other often.”

“I know. I miss seeing you everyday.”

Your head up at the sky, heart in your throat.

“Me too…”

Then you found yourself closing your eyes.

Legs dangling off the ledge on opposite sides, you both spent the next hour in silence, leaning against each other.

You and Tim on the rooftops. Just the two of you. Laughing. Sharing a drink. Doing homework even.

They were always the best times.

“Shit,” he looked at the time on his phone. “Come on. If I can finish half of it in three hours, we might actually get to go back to the manor to get some sleep.”

“Tim-“

“Just a night,” he slipped off onto the ground, then everything felt so much colder around you. “Please. Everyone’s out anyway.”

You shut your eyes.

But even when you expected yourself to decline, you ended up nodding and sliding your torso to turn back towards the building, . “Fine. But only because you’re taking me- Fuck…”

You moved too fast. You fucking moved too fast. Shit.

“Y/N, don’t move-“

Tim rushed to your legs, held his hands over the back of yours that was touching the metal where flesh and skin was supposed to be.

You tried to flinch away how you always do when someone does so much as lay a finger on you or your fucking limb when it was uncalled for, but Tim’s hands were soft and gentle. And you were also 70 stories above ground so jumping away wouldn’t be the best idea.

“Tim, I’m fine-“

“Let me help.”

“I’m fine… shit…”

Stinging nerves, all the way up your thigh when you tried to move it yourself. That’s when Tim ignored you and went ahead to hold it himself.

It was too late into the night for you to argue. So you pulled your hands away and let him slide your leg over the railing, dangling it onto the edge towards him.

“May I?”

Now facing him, both legs hanging just inches away from the ground, you placed your weight on your hands and nodded.

Tim knelt in front of you, then pulled your loose jeans up to your knee.

You felt disgusted at yourself, and you hated how he wasn’t, hands over the silver steel that replaced your skin, at the rods and wires that replaced your bones, where tiny stubs of metal stuck out in place of actual toes. You held your breath, then Tim looked up at you, hands soothing just below your knee.

He didn’t look like he pitied you. There was that.

That, or he just mastered the art of hiding his pity and instead, look at you like he was just trying to take care of you.

Which he was. You weren’t about to rob him of that credit.

Tim unlatched the bionic limb, then pulled it off of what was left of your leg. A stub of skin, where it had healed about three inches down from your knee, was burning red.

“Must have caused a bit of stress.”

You shrugged. “I’ll be fine. It happens a lot.”

Tim’s fingers over the marks of pink, you felt how gentle he was, the callous that had formed over the years, at the warmth that came with his palms rubbing over your skin. Your eyes were all on him.

Then he looked up at you, without stopping his hands.

Another set of blue eyes, quite different from the last pair you saw earlier that day. Though it must have been because of the dark, his reflected the light from the city skyline just a bit better.

Tim looked at you the same way he always did for years. It didn’t make your skin fluster, or your stomach churn.

You felt at home.  

You smiled at him, then he smiled back before he looked back down at your leg.

Tim was the only one you’d ever let do this.

After a longer while of massaging your knee, he placed the bionic leg back into place and latched it up.

“Try moving it around.”

This limb costed millions of dollars and only you had a robot leg as good as fucking Cyborg’s, and still it pained when you moved two seconds too fast. You moved your toes about, swayed your ankle. Still with a slight sting, but you could brush it off. Tim pulled your jeans back down and helped you off the railing.

He didn’t speak much on the way down back to his office, and he let you have your nap on his couch for a few more hours while he worked away.

Though, you couldn’t exactly sleep.

You weren’t sure if you were bothered, anxious, or pleased, and you hated how you still considered that last one.

It was in the way he looked at you, touched you so gently. You could tell. You could definitely tell. You told Tim years ago to promise you that he’d stop. And he said he would. Turns out he couldn’t keep that promise.

Tim still loved you.

Carefully, without him noticing, you looked back over your shoulder and watched him crouch over his laptop the way that was going to strain his back for the next three months. And you weren’t sure if you liked that it made you smile, when you took too much time watching his eyes and his lips and even his nose scrunching up like a rabbit’s.

You’d think years after you decided to be just friends, and ended up being best friends would let you both move on completely. He dated Steph for a while, even. And still, he wasn’t friends with her now the way he was with you.

It wasn’t at all awkward. It didn’t have to be.

But maybe it wasn’t for the reason you thought.

The sketchbook. The really expensive one you always used up after a few months. It costed about a hundred dollars per piece, and you get one every single year along with other art materials like charcoal pencils and canvases and paint.

And they always arrived right at your door every Valentine’s morning.

No name. No tag.

You thought it was from Bruce at first, like how he continued to spoil you with just about everything else with commissions and pieces he didn’t even need but claimed to want for his new mantle at the office or a wall in one of his condos.

But it was all too intimate and personal.

After the third year, you found out it was from him.

You could tell with how it was all wrapped and carefully arranged. Only from his hands, and how gentle they can be when he held you…

You fell asleep on that couch, clutching the sketchbook to your chest.

----

It was past five in the morning when Tim finally stood up from his desk. You were well into your sleep, then you felt his hand on your shoulder, shrugging you awake.

“Huh?”

“Come on. Let’s get some sleep at the manor.”

Groaning into the couch’s fabric, Tim took fifteen minutes pulling you to stand until he finally got you on your feet. He helped you with your coat, then on the taxi home you fell asleep on his shoulder, and he fell asleep with his cheek on your head.

You got to the manor, stretched out, then just as the sun had fully greeted you, you both walked into the foyer. Alfred was still freshly awoken.

“Master Tim, where on earth have you been?”

“The office.”

“The off- never mind. Miss Y/N, I’m happy to see you.”

“Hey Alfred,” you yawned and gave the butler a hug.

“Will you be sleeping in your room?”

“Yes please.”

He nodded, then you and Tim walked over to the steps.

“Wait.” You backed away. “I want water. You go ahead.”

The zombie that was Tim Drake didn’t even turn his head to you as he lugged himself up the stairs. You dragged your feet to the kitchen, stretching out your arms. It was way too fucking early for this.

You reached into the fridge and grabbed the ice-cold pitcher of water, held up an empty glass, then poured it in.

You brought the glass up to your lips.

You closed the fridge door.

Then felt the freezing cold surge up your nose, your eyes pop open from the crust and saltiness that had formed over your eyelids, then your throat started to close up and you coughed the water out of your hacking mouth.

“J-Jason?”

A towel covered his face when he first walked in, which meant his arm was up and his muscles were flexing when his bulked up bare chest was practically screaming into your eyes. Eight pack abs. Pecs stronger than steel. Ripples on his sides. And his fucking arms that could tear apart a block of wood in one pull.

It was too much of a convenience that he was rubbing the sweat off his hair so much that he couldn’t see you with your jaw on the ground. Every muscle in your body tightened, screamed, then just as Jason looked up at you, drenched hair flopping onto his eyes, you immediately looked away and pretended your own throat wasn’t choking you right then.

He walked towards you. Fuck.

“Hey, pretty bird.”

That low, husky voice…

You nodded. “H-hey,” you choked. “What are you doing here?”

“What are you doing here?”

You drank the whole glass in one gulp, then you opened the fridge once again to pour in even more water.

“I came with Tim. I was with him in the office.”

“Oh,” he leaned against the counter right beside you, and all your eyes that were fucking defying you right then could look at were the veins popping out of his biceps.

“Why are you here?”

He pouted. “I always train this early.”

“You come here all the way from your apartment at five in the morning?”

“Since a few days ago, yeah.”

“Why?”

He scoffed. “No gym on earth has Bruce’s equipment.”

“Ah.” You went through the whole glass again. The sweat was starting to pour down his chest.

Placing it onto the kitchen counter just inches away from Jason’s body, you were practically floating out of the kitchen. As fast as you could. “I’m going back to sleep.”

“Bye, pretty bird.”

Up the stairs. Into your old room. Away from anyone else.

You fell to your bed, but you couldn’t sleep a single wink.

And you weren’t even sure why.

Or who.

-----

 MASTERLIST | 3 BIRDS 1 STONE MASTERLIST

-----

MAIN TAGLIST:

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SERIES TAGLIST: 

@spaceservicestation​

#dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #dick grayson x reader #jason todd x reader #tim drake x reader #batfam #batfamily #robins #dc comics #reader insert #batboys x reader #nightwing #red hood #red robin #3 birds 1 stone #3 birds 1 stone series #batarella #batarella series

[fangzeronos]

Love Lost Birds

This is all @xaphrin‘s fault for getting me to love this ship. Seriously, you guys go read her Shadows series. It’s so damn good! Hope this is enjoyed!

The rainy and hellishly loud nights in Gotham City drove Damian crazy. In his teens, he’d been a Titan, fighting with the people he had come to consider a family. As much as he bitched to Grayson, and even Drake on occasion, Damian missed the Tower. What made the Tower bearable was her. The way her eyes sparkled in silent laughter at something Logan or Reyes would do, the small smiles she would give him, or the way they worked together.

 Then she disappeared, days before her birthday with nothing explaining why or where she was. He’d felt her disappearance before not seeing her, and even knocking on her door before bursting in confirmed the empty feeling in his stomach. He had sat in the dark of her room for over an hour, his fingers around a note he’d never read, her handwriting perfectly done on the front of the envelope.

 He had called every magic user he knew, from Constantine to Zatanna, even in contact with Tala or even Nabu, but none of them could or would locate her. Two years of looking, trying to find his way into side dimensions, or pocket universes, always being rejected and flung back to the cold darkness of the Tower at the mention of her name.

 Retreating back to Gotham and choosing to ignore the Titans worked for a while, but when Kori was around he was forced to talk. Sometimes he despised the Tamaranian, but he could tolerate her for Grayson’s sake.

 “Damian, you know she had to have had a reason to leave,” Kori had said one night on a patrol, her flaming hair sending steam into the air in the rain.

 “Without saying anything? Least of all to you or I? I do not buy it, Starfire. I will not stop until I find her,” Damian said, dropping onto a rooftop and sliding some thanks to a puddle on the roof. He slammed his hand against the wet bricks, anger surging through him. “Why? Why did she leave?”

 Kori landed beside Damian, putting her hand on his shoulder. With his hood over his face, she couldn’t see his eyes, but she knew talking about their missing friend was troubling him and causing him grief. “I don’t know, Damian. I don’t have the answer you’re looking for. I wish I did, but…she never confided in me her reason to leave,” she said.

 Damian growled, shaking Kori’s hand off as the sound of sirens pierced the thundering skies. He jumped off of the roof, thankful for the distraction.

 Deciding to hell with the city, Damian returned to the Batcave, tugging his cape off and pulling his domino mask off at the same time. He changed out of his suit, hanging it to let it dry. “Four months of rain in this godforsaken city. I am starting to wish Freeze would just ice it over and be done with us.” He started for the stairs to the library, deciding to walk to clear his head.

 “Master Damian, you know that is not a thing to wish,” Alfred said, looking at the young man as he turned in his chair from the computer. “Oh, Master Damian. You received a message from a Jaime Reyes."

 Damian froze, turning back to Alfred. “Reyes? What does the Beetle want with me?” he asked. He stepped off of the stairs, heading to the computer. “What was the message, Pennyworth?”

 Alfred handed Damian a sheet of paper with Jaime’s message on it.

 “Hey, Damian,

 It’s been a long time, and I’m sorry we never got in touch with you in the last few years. Dick said it’d be easier to message Alfred to get to you. You may want to sit down before you keep reading, because you’re going to collapse if you don’t. Sitting down? Good.

 She’s back. She’s been back two days, and she asked us to wait two days to contact you in case she had to go again. She wants to see you, amigo. How quickly can you make it back here? Let me know.

 Jaime”

 Damien’s blood ran cold, sinking into a chair as his knees gave out on him. She couldn’t have been back. He’d have felt it. He’d have felt her again. They were so attuned to each other, he’d have known. “Thank—” he started, his voice thick with emotions. He swallowed the lump in his throat, licking his lips softly. “Thank you, Alfred.” Forcing himself out of the chair, he took the elevator to the library, heading for his room.

 Once alone, he set Jaime’s note on the desk before opening a drawer, taking the letter out, his fingers tracing the letters on the envelope. Sitting on the floor, Damian turned the envelope over and broke the seal, his heart hammering his ribs. Pulling the slightly yellowing paper out, he unfolded it and started reading.

 “My Damian.

 I can hear you yelling at Dick and Kori about where I am. Just know that I’m safe so that you all stay safe too. Please don’t hate me for leaving. It’s something I had to do in order to keep Earth safe from my father. I have to go to Azarath, learn from the Monks and hopefully find a way to stop Trigon for good.

 If I know you, you’ll look at this envelope and say that I’m coming back soon and that I’ll be there quick, and you won’t open this until you know I’m home. I don’t know how long this will take, but I hope that you find peace after my leaving. I have loved every minute we’ve spent together, from carnivals and busting up bad guys to just quiet nights watching the rain or fireworks in one of our rooms. I don’t have enough time to write out everything I wanted to say to you, and I hope that once this is over I can say them face to face.

 We’re both going to be different people when we meet again, Damian. I hope you forgive me for not telling you I was leaving, but you’d have insisted on coming with me or protesting and try to get me to stay. I wish I could stay, but doing that would endanger the world, and I can’t lose you.

 I’ll see you again. Just know that, even though I never said it before, and reading it in a letter is not the right way to say it the first time, I love you, Damian. I always will.

 Love,

 Raven”

 The letter was marked with a kiss, the same shade of lipstick Raven would wear in her suit. “Raven…” Damian closed his eyes, taking a shaky breath as he pressed the letter to his forehead, drawing his knees up. He sighed, feeling like a weight was lifted off of his chest and dropped into his stomach. Looking up as a knock sounded on the door, Damian got up, wiping his eyes.

 “What?” he asked, sitting on the edge of the bed.

 Bruce opened the door, looking at his son. “Damian? Are you alright? Alfred said you were less bitchy then usual after patrol.”

 Damian nodded, explaining about Jaime’s letter and finally opening Raven’s. “I’ll take the jet to San Francisco, meet up with the Titans again. If Raven really is back…I have to go, Father.”

 Bruce nodded, putting his hand on Damian’s shoulder. “I’ll make sure it’s fueled and ready for you for in the morning. We can cover Gotham until you get back.”

 Damian nodded, sighing softly. “What if this all goes to hell?” he asked. “Raven and I? I…I don’t think I could handle losing her again, Father.”

 Bruce smiled softly, sitting on the edge of the bed beside his son. “If you love someone, you’ll fight to keep them. When you found out she disappeared, I got a continuous stream of calls from Jason Blood, Zatanna, Constantine, Doctor Fate, even people like Tala, Black Adam, and Faust saying you were desperate to find Raven. You spent two years trying to find her, and if that isn’t love, Damian, I don’t know what is.”

 Damian looked at the letter, shaking his head softly. “I had the answer in my possession the entire time, but I never opened this. I thought if I did, she’d be gone for good. The fact that she’s back, after four years…? I don’t want to lose her again.”

 “Then don’t,” Bruce said. “When you see her, you talk. You find out how she’s been, what she’s been doing, tell her what you’ve been doing and how you’ve been. Then you work for your future together.”

_____________________ Leaving before dawn the next morning, Damian sighed to himself as he flew the Batwing toward San Francisco. After eleven hours in the cockpit, thankful he’d had Alfred’s meals to keep him company as well as a book from Grayson, the Titans Tower came into view.

 “Batwing to Titans Tower. Requesting permission to land.”

 “Like you gotta ask, Birdboy! Lighting up the roof!” Garfield’s voice said.

 “Thank you, Garfield,” Damian said, shutting the communication line back off before flying down and landing on the illuminated helipad, shutting the engines off as the landing struts hit the concrete. He opened the cockpit and grabbed his bag and trash, jumping down and letting it close up before he jogged across the rooftop and walked through the door.

 Walking into the main living room of the Tower, Damian was hit with the sounds and sights he’d been missing for over four years. Garfield and Jaime were playing games on the massive wall length television, Tim was on the computer and looked like he hadn’t slept in a week. He was the first to look over and see Damian.

 “Hey, man,” Tim said, getting up and shaking Damian’s hand. “Good flight?”

 “Alfred’s cooking and a book made it more bearable. If I admitted how nervous I was the entire way, none of you would believe me,” Damian said. “Where’s--?”

 “Her room,” Tim said. “Asked us to tell you and leave you two be, and only to come running if one of you stormed out and disappeared.”

 “Glad to see everyone still listens to her,” Damian said. “Thank you.”

 “Good to see you, Damian,” Tim said with a genuine smile.

 Damian smiled a little, waving to Garfield and Jaime before heading for his room. He didn’t even pay attention to where he was going, his feet on autopilot before he ended up at his door. He pushed the door open and tossed his bag on the bed, pulling his mask off and changing into civilian clothes before he walked out, sighing as he headed down the hallway. Making his way to Raven’s room, the ethereal raven emblem on the wall. Reaching his hand up to knock, the door slid open.

 “You don’t have to knock,” Raven’s voice said, a light turning on and illuminating the room. She was floating over her bed, cloak on the mattress and her legs crossed in her usual pose. Her hair was longer and drawn into a ponytail, her cloak the same but in white, and she’d lost the leggings, leaving her bare legs to the elements.

 “It’s polite,” Damian said, walking in and letting the door shut behind him. “Especially after not seeing someone for four years.”

 Raven nodded, floating down before letting her feet land on the floor. “You never read the letter, did you?” she asked, meeting Damian halfway in the room.

 “Not until last night,” Damian said softly. “If I read it…it would have made it permanent in my mind. I thought if I didn’t read it, I’d wake up and you’d be here. But every day for a year, that dream was always shattered. I couldn’t stand it after two years, moving back to Gotham and leaving all of this behind.”

 Raven smiled softly, putting her hand on Damian’s cheek softly. “I thought about you all the time,” she said. She watched him close his eyes and lean into her touch, the tough as nails Grandson of the Demon turning into a gentle giant around her like he always did. “Never went a day without hoping you were okay or thinking about a rainstorm and sitting here watching the lightning, tea in our hands.” She reached down and took his hands, feeling his warmth spread through her. “I missed you.”

 “I missed you,” Damian said softly, squeezing Raven’s hands. “Four years and nine months, Raven. Four years I wondered if I’d done something to you, something to make you leave without explaining. I thought you hated me.”

 “Never,” Raven said, shaking her head. “I could never hate you, Damian. I left to keep you safe. You and the other Titans. When my eighteenth birthday came, I woke up with a burning on my skin. I knew exactly what it was, and I knew I didn’t have time to explain. I’d written that letter the night before, knowing you’d find it the next day. I packed and left the minute I’d woken up. The burning was my father’s mark, signaling the day arrived I was supposed to destroy the world.”

 Damian sighed softly. He didn’t know why, but he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Raven’s waist, pulling her toward him. He felt her arms go around his neck, and he buried his nose against her shoulder, the familiar scent of jasmine and lavender filling his senses. “Don’t leave me again,” he said. “Please.”

 “Never,” Raven said softly, tightening her arms and closing her eyes. “Four years was long enough without you.” She smiled, holding tightly to Damian.

 After a few minutes, the pair stepped back, Damian putting his hand on Raven’s cheek. “You were right about one thing.”

 “Just one?” Raven asked with an amused smirk, cocking an eyebrow.

 Damian rolled his eyes and smiled softly. “The letter. Reading it on a page isn’t the same as hearing it,” he said. “I love you, Raven. I always have, and the last four years have been torture on my heart, not knowing if you were dead or alive, or even if you were safe. I’d gotten so used to feeling you around me, that when you disappeared I was empty. I was never satisfied or happy without that connection. Nothing I did filled that hole in my chest.”

 Raven smiled, putting her hand on Damian’s and turning her head softly, kissing his palm. “I know,” she said. “I wish I had explained before abandoning you for Azarath.” She took his hand and intertwined their fingers, enjoying his warmth against her skin. “I love you, too. I won’t leave you behind again. Not ever.”

 Damian smiled softly, leaning forward and kissing Raven, pulling her against him again and looping his arm around her waist. “Good,” he growled lowly, his tone sending a shiver through Raven’s spine that settled in her hips. “You do, I will not stop until I find you and I will punish you.”

 Raven kissed Damian back, her chest heaving from the force of the kiss and his threat of punishing her. “Mm…what did you learn in four years?” she asked with a smirk, backing up toward the bed before sitting down, watching him stalk forward.

 “You’ll have to find out,” Damian said, leaning down and kissing Raven again before she pulled him onto the bed, flipping him to pin him to the mattress. “Gotten stronger, my love.”

 Raven smiled, straddling Damian’s hips before leaning down and kissing him again, threading her fingers through his. “I also learned some new ways to play with my magic. Nights on Azarath got very boring,” she said, grinding her hips against Damian’s slowly, cocking an eyebrow as she teased him.

 Damian laughed, looking up at Raven. “Well. Looks like we’ve both got some new experiences to share with each other.”

 “That we do,” Raven said, kissing Damian.

 Neither Damian or Raven knew what the future would hold for either of them, but as long as they were together, they knew they could face whatever demons, both figurative or literal, that came their way.

#DemonBirds #Damian Wayne #Raven #First time writing these two #I've done my other big Raven ships #but never this one #wooooohoooooo #it's just shy of 2700 words #that's a lot for me these days

[beautyandthewarcanons]

Echo's Beacon: Part Nineteen

[You can read part eighteen here! All BATW & DTTR characters belong to @poisonappletales ! ❤]

Wind grimaced. Viktor raised a brow. I silently gagged, rolling my eyes. Ambrosia blushed, glancing away. Wildfire smirked, snickering once as she shook her head.

"Can you two please refrain from this sort of activity at the supper table?" Jasmine asked curtly.

Brooks turned to look at Jasmine, ceasing her makeout session with Unknown for a beat. She stuck out her tongue playfully.

"Don't judge just because you can't get it!"

"Miss Brooks, this is highly inappropriate for this setting." Arsenik spoke up.

"Hey, grandpa, just saying 'get a room' works. You use too many words." X stabbed his fork into a piece of roast Ambrosia had cooked. I shot him a look, but the criminal didn't notice. "Oh- princess, this is so good."

Ambrosia raised her head, snapping to attention. "O- Oh, thank you, sir X."

"You say too many words, too." Wind spat.

"Dude..." X threw his hands up. "... no one asked you."

"Don't care."

"Wow, that- I would have never expected you to say that. But you know what? For 'not caring' so much, you seem to have a comment for everything I say, huh?"

"Still talking too much." Wind said lowly. A moment passed.

"Hey, pal. You want to go outside?"

"X, please don't." I groaned.

"No, no no. I think this jerk wants to go outside, huh? First, he thinks he can tell my woman what to do, then-"

"Call her that again."

"What was that?" X squinted an eye.

"Call her that again and see what happens." Wind looked up, wearing a deadly stare.

"Come at me, bro. I dare you." X held his arms out at his sides.

"Fight!" Brooks shouted, laughing.

"Alright. You two, go somewhere." I stood up, motioning for her and Unknown to leave the room. When they didn't move at first, Barium stood up then.

"Unknown, you will listen to her." He said.

"Or what, your royal highness?" Unknown laughed. It died down slightly when Onyx wordlessly stood.

"Or, he will escort you out." Barium answered. Unknown shrugged. He stood, picking Brooks up so that she was facing him, wrapping her legs around his waist.

"See ya! We're going to have a wild night! Woo!" Brooks threw her head back, laughing as they left the dining room.

"Oh, thank God." I sighed with exasperation. I didn't notice Arsenik glance over at me.

"Yeah, that's what I thought." X said when Wind said nothing to him.

"Sir X, please don't bother him." Ambrosia frowned.

"I'm bothering him?! Ambrosia, the guy won't get off my back!"

"Surprised you even want to hang out with her at all." Wildfire said then.

"Huh?"

"You were with her a whole night. I bet she put you to sleep."

"Hey, she's just got to do things on her own time, okay?"

"Let me give you a hint..." Wildfire stood, her palms on the edge of the table. "That time is never going to come."

X scoffed. "Whatever."

I was about to say something to Wildfire, when-

"Miss Kara."

I turned at the sound of Arsenik's voice. "Yeah?"

"I see miss Bo Peep painted your face this afternoon." He observed. I swallowed thickly. God, I probably looked horrible. "You look quite lovely."

I blinked. Bo grinned widely. Chase stopped all movement mid-bite. "Oh. Th- Thank you.

Arsenik chuckled. "You're quite welcome. Although, I must say... you're just as pleasing to the eyes in your natural state."

My mouth hung open for a moment. Wildfire was dead silent. Barium rose his brows in surprise, feeling... outdone. This was atypical for him.

My hands lightly squeezed the glass; the ice inside it began to create condensation, the outer side of the vessel beginning to sweat.

---

X grumbled to himself, flopping on the couch angrily. He wasn't going to listen to Unknown and Brooks go at it one bed over in the same room all night. Just as he was about to settle in, he felt the couch pillow he was resting on suddenly yanked from under his head. He propped himself up on his shoulders, rubbing his head after it had fallen onto the arm rest of the couch.

"Hey, what gives?!" He shouted.

"Quiet, idiot." Wildfire bent forward so she was looking down at his face from behind.  He swiveled himself around to sit up.

"What is wrong with you, lady?!"

"Will you shut up and listen? You want to spend all night out here or do you want to have a bit of what your roommate's having?"

X tilted his head skeptically. "The last time you talked me into something, it didn't do me any good."

Wildfire shrugged. "Fine. Have fun by yourself then." She turned to walk away. X rubbed his forehead.

"Wait."

Wildfire stopped, smirking to herself. She turned on her heel, a hand on her hip. "Yeah?"

X sighed. "Fine. Let's do this."

Wildfire nodded her head toward the bedroom. Once inside, X lost himself, shoving Ambrosia out of his mind as Wildfire shoved him onto the mattress.

Tonight, he needed a bed warmer to work some heat out of his system.

I patted my face dry with the towel, having washed my face. I made sure my skin wasn't too dry before settling into bed. I looked over to see Ambrosia was sound asleep. I inhaled deeply, smiling as I reached into the side table drawer to pull out the book from the library. I had read over half of it now, flipping it open to where I had left off. As my eyes scanned the page, I bit my lip, my head beginning to feel like it was swimming.

I couldn't get the way he had looked at me that evening out of my head.

---

We were suspended, floating in a sea of nothingness. He drew toward me, and I felt numb.

Then, his kiss ignited me. Emotions swelled up in bubbles enveloping us. Ecstasy flooded.

It was then I realized I couldn't breathe.

Hands shot to my throat. Pressure built in my chest. My eyes rolled up into my skull-

I jolted awake, gasping for air. My heart was racing as I took in deep breaths, trying to calm down. After about a minute, I glanced over to see that Ambrosia was still asleep. The room was pretty dark, the drapes having been drawn the prior evening. I lifted my hand to ruffle my hair a bit, pausing when my fingertips touched my head.

It was wet.

It was as if I had just washed it. Furrowing a brow, I shook my head as I rose to open the curtains. Light poured into the room, and I turned to head into the bathroom to dry my hair.

I stopped dead in my tracks, nearly falling to the floor.

I stumbled, shaking the side of Ambrosia's bed, my voice cracking as I called her name.

"Eh...?" Ambrosia mumbled as she sat up, rubbing her eyes. When she focused her vision, she was met with the sight of me pointing at the wall in front of us next to the door, my eyes wide. She followed my finger, her gaze resting on what had sent me into alarm.

The painting she had taken down was back on the wall, neat as a pin.

"Why is that there-?" I choked. "Why is that back there, why is it-"

"Lady Kara, I... I don't know how to explain this... I swear to you, I did not hang the painting there. You... you didn't...?" I looked at her with frightened eyes, shaking my head. Just then, Ambrosia noticed something. "Your hair..." She took a strand of my hair in her fingers. She then moved past me to see that my sheets were also soaking wet. A small puddle was on the other side, footsteps leading up to where the painting was before stopping. Ambrosia cleared her throat. "Lady Kara... why don't you get cleaned up... I'll take care of this, alright?" She turned my head to divert my attention away from the mess. "It's only water. I'll hang these out to dry and fetch some fresh linens. Go on, now." She ushered me to the bathroom to tidy up. Upon closing the door, she glanced back at the painting suspiciously.

She realized then, that the footsteps on the floor were leading away from the painting.

To be continued...

#beautyandthewar #poisonappletales #beauty and the war x playing pieces #beauty and the war #donttakethisrisk #ambrosia #dont take this risk #arsenik #unknown #love #horror #suspense #drama #fanficton

[boffeeceans]

Change Your Life - Chapter One

The ride to Armadillo was hot, long, and exhausting, But Beatrice finally made it. She has heard that Armadillo was a town you could better stay away from because of all the diseases constantly going around, but she didn't think it would be this bad. Scarlet fever was going around like wildfire, half the town was sick and most of the other half was getting ready to leave.

It broke Beatrice's heart to see the people of Armadillo like this. Someone very close to her has died because of a disease, it wasn't Scarlet fever but it was still bad. Beatrice still misses her dearly, but there was no time for her to sulk around and feel bad for herself. She had to find someone and it was gonna be a whole lot more difficult with her brother disappearing on her.

It was late in the evening and Beatrice made her way over to the saloon for a drink and to rent a room. She hitched her horse outside of the saloon and gave the stallion a pat on the neck before making her way up the stairs and walking through the batwing doors. All eyes were immediately on her, some turned back around but others were focused on her like hungry wolves. She tried to ignore them as much as possible while she walked over to the bar counter.

The bartender looked up from cleaning a glass, he was surprised to see a young woman in his saloon. "Uh, w- what can I get you today, miss?"

Beatrice sat down on a barstool and threw about five dollars on the bar counter, "A room and a whi-" A man grabbed her waist before she could finish her sentence.

"How about you take me to that room of yours, pretty girl." A strong smell of alcohol and cigarettes came out of the man's mouth. Beatrice turned her head to look at him, his teeth were rotten and he looked and smelled like he hadn't taken a bath in months.

"Hey, how abo-" the bartender started.

Beatrice stopped the bartender from speaking by holding her hand up. She got off the barstool and looked the man in the eye with a sweet smile. Beatrice kneed him the balls before he could even blink, the man fell to his knees as a loud "Fuck!" left his mouth. Beatrice grabbed the man by his collar, swiftly removed her knife from its sheath and held it to his throat. The sweet smile that was once on her face was now replaced by a look that could scare a lion.

Beatrice used the knife to lift the man's chin and made him look directly into her eyes before she spoke, "Y'know, I've been on the road for weeks and I'm exhausted, all I want is to enjoy a drink and to finally sleep in a bed again. So I suggest you keep your mouth shut from now on unless you want to lose your balls. " The man looked at her with pure horror in his eyes, "Understood?" She asked him, he quickly nodded his head causing the knife to protrude the man's skin. Beatrice wiped the bit of blood off her knife and put it back in its sheath and nodded towards the door. The man quickly got to his feet and ran out of the saloon without looking back.

Beatrice turned around to face the bartender, "Sorry about that." She said, a sweet smile making its way back on her face. "Right, a room and a whiskey, please."

The bartender looked at her in disbelief, no way someone could go from looking sweet and innocent to threatening someone with nothing but a knife and succeeding to make them run off like a scared puppy. He immediately got the whiskey and key to a room for her, scared that he would end up at the other end of her knife if he took too long. Beatrice quickly downed the whiskey and grabbed the key, she tipped her hat to the bartender and made her way to her room.

It didn't take long for her to find it, the room wasn't very large, all it had was a single bed, a nightstand, and a dresser with a mirror. Beatrice placed her hat on the nightstand and let herself fall onto the bed. She thought about her brother, Elijah and Beatrice had a fight about a week ago. Elijah didn't like the idea of going after someone when they're not even sure if he's alive or had any idea where he is. Eventually, Beatrice decided to ignore him and go to sleep, but Elijah was gone when she woke up.

She closed her eyes and hoped that both the man she was looking for and Elijah were still alive while slowly dozing off.

---

Beatrice woke up covered in sweat because of the New Austin heat, she got out of bed and stretched with a yawn. She looked at herself in the mirror that was above the drawer and across from her bed, her once bright eyes were now dull and tired with dark circles under them. Her hair was disheveled and all over the place, she ran her hand through it and placed her hat on her head.

She walked down the stairs, the saloon was mostly empty except for the people from last night that were too drunk to leave and the bartender. The man behind the bar counter wasn't the same one as last night. Beatrice walked over to him and cleared her throat and placed the key on the bar, grabbing the man's attention. He smiled at her, "Hope you had a good night's rest, miss." He grabbed the key and put it away. "Anything else I can help you with?"

Beatrice thought for a moment, this might be the best place to start asking for a certain someone. She grabbed a bounty poster from her pocket and placed it on the bar, "Do you know where this man is?"

The bartender picked up to the poster to take a closer look, it read:

WANTED DEAD OR ALIVE

$100 REWARD

For Robbery And Murder

DUTCH VAN DER LINDE

He handed the poster back to her, "I'm sorry miss, but I don't know. Anything else?" He asked.

Beatrice shoved the poster back in her pocket with a defeated sigh, hopefully, someone else around this town knew where he was. "No, that's all," She tipped her hat. "thank you." The man nodded at her and went back to washing glasses.

Beatrice stood outside of the saloon next to her horse and fed him a carrot, she didn't think finding Dutch van der Linde would be this hard when she and Elijah started searching. She was starting to think that Elijah had made the right decision to leave, walking into dead ends was starting to get old.

"M- miss?" A familiar voice emerged from behind her, she turned around immediately holding her revolver to the man's groin.

"I thought I told you that I didn't want to hear you speak again."

"Wait! I heard you were looking for Van der Linde!" The man stammered. Beatrice looked the man up and down, she pulled the hammer of her revolver down.

"Speak. Quickly."

"I've- I've heard that he and his gang are around Blackwater."

Beatrice put the hammer back in place and slowly nodded, "Thanks, now scram." The man didn't think twice before getting on his horse and quickly riding off. Beatrice watched him leave and turned back to her horse and gave him a pat on the neck before mounting him and riding off. "Next stop: Blackwater."

---

It has been about two days since Beatrice left Armadillo and was now riding up to Blackwater, she was expecting to arrive in just another boring town, but was met with quite the opposite. The town was filled with Pinkertons and people talking about the Van der Linde Gang, it confirmed Dutch was there, but it also meant she wasn't the only one looking for him. Which could work in her favor, but it could also backfire.

Beatrice carefully rode around town trying to overhear any information, all she knew so far was that there was a ferry job gone wrong that had the gang flee town.

There were posters of Dutch and Hosea everywhere, Beatrice wasn't told to find Hosea but her mother still spoke fondly of him "I've never met a kinder man than Hosea Matthews." Her mother had told her. Beatrice really wanted to meet him if he was really as nice as her mother had told her.

Beatrice overheard a small group of Pinkertons talk about the ferry job, she dismounted and walked closer to them so they couldn't see her eavesdropping.

"You were here, how did it go?" One of them asked the other.

"It was a massacre, 32 dead and we have no idea where they are now."

"I heard they fled to the Grizzlies," A third Pinkerton added, "Probably won't survive there long though. Heard the weather is so bad, it could kill you in seconds." The Pinkertons stood in silence, all three of them hoping they didn't have to go out there to look for the Van der Linde Gang. 

Beatrice slowly emerged from her hiding spot and made sure no one saw her. There was no way that she was going into the grizzlies, not with weather that bad. She mouthed her horse and rode toward the saloon.

She ordered a coffee and sat at a table near the window with a map in front of her to plan her next move. Strawberry wasn't an option, It was too close to Blackwater for a hideout and they would've passed it if they went into the Grizzlies. The next best place was Valentine, a livestock town. It was a good place to exit the Grizzlies and was full of outlaws just like them, Beatrice Circled "Valentine" on her map and put it away. It would take a couple of days for her to get there, but the ride from Armadillo to Blackwater was too exhausting for her to go on the road again right away. She finished her coffee and rented a room for the night, she would plan on leaving first thing in the morning.

---

Beatrice arrived in Valentine about two weeks ago, she sat on the steps next to the general store with a man she had befriended. His name was Thomas Downes, She donated some to the Charity he was raising money for. They got to talking and Beatrice found out that he had the same disease that killed her mother. Thomas appreciated her company and conversations, She was the only one that bothered talking to him besides his wife and son. Beatrice might have kept her distance, but she always made sure that he could count on her.

She took a drag from her cigarette before focusing her eyes on the newspaper article she had been reading for the past couple of days.

TRAIN ROBBED

_______

PITCHED BATTLE LEAVES MANY DEAD

________

OUTLAWS SEND TRAIN ON DRIVERLESS JOURNEY

________

OWNED BY LEVITICUS CORNWALL

________

It could've been the Van der Linde Gang, but there was no way of her knowing for sure. It wasn't smart for them to rob a train now, especially one that belonged to Leviticus Cornwall, it would send the Pinkertons right back on their trail. Beatrice stared off in the distance, she hoped that they weren't long gone, that they still had to arrive or let themselves known.

Her train of thought was interrupted by the sound of a window being smashed in. Beatrice shot her head up and focused on where the sound was coming from, there was a man in the middle of the road in front of the saloon. He struggled to get off the floor as the people from the saloon gathered around him. "Come on, pretty boy..." Another man that emerged from the saloon said.

"Pretty boy? You're kidding me? Pretty boy?" The man who was previously thrown out of the window said before they continued their fight on the street.

"You okay there, Arthur?" A man from the crowd that was watching the fight said.

Arthur. That name piqued Beatrice's interest, she got up from her spot on the stairs and decided to take a closer look. She grabbed a picture from her satchel and held it up, it could be him, but she wasn't sure and even if it was him her mother told her to talk to Dutch first.

"Yeah, I got this son of a bitch." The man now Identified as Arthur replied. The fight didn't go one for much longer until Arthur had the other man pinned to the ground and was beating his face in like it was nothing. Beatrice didn't notice Thomas rushing past her to get Arthur off the other man, whose name, Beatrice had figured out was Tommy.

Beatrice was too focused on figuring out if that was the Arthur her mom told her about to realize that he pushed her to the side and made his way to the general store. Two men approached him and three others after they talked for a little bit. Beatrice couldn't hear barely hear their conversation and decided to just watch.

"It's you they want. Dutch."

That was something Beatrice could hear. Dutch. It's not a name you hear every day, so it had to be him. She waited for the men to finish their conversation before approaching Dutch.

Dutch was about to mount his horse when Beatrice cleared her throat behind him which caused him to turn around. He had a frown on his face, but that frown was quickly replaced with a charming smile when he realized it was just a girl. "How can I help you miss?" He asked, voice smooth like honey.

Beatrice just stood there, it was really him. Dutch van der Linde. Right in front of her and she had no idea what she was supposed to say now, she didn't think she'd actually get this far after all the dead ends. "Uhm-" She had to say something.

"Miss?" Dutch asked with a raised eyebrow.

"My uh, My name is Beatrice Morgan. I- I'm Ethelyn's daughter."

Dutch just looked at her, not understanding what she was talking about until it hit him. "Bill, go on without me, i'll be back later." Bill protested a little before mounting his horse and riding off.

---

A/N: Hope you liked the first chapter of my very first long fic, constructive criticism is always welcome and thank you for reading :)

#red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 fandom #arthur morgan

[crown-eater]

Only the Vital Ones, Pt. 1

“In those days, desires weren’t allowed to become reality. So, fantasy was substituted for them–films, books, pictures. They called it ‘art.’ But, when your desires become reality, you don’t need fantasy any longer, or art.”–Amyl Nitrate, “Jubilee”

[ With Symbiotic Self-Indulgence, 3, Pts. I, II. ] [ The Uptake (table of contents)]

The small brushed steel kitchen table of Cecil and ‘Choly’s studio apartment abutted a full-height open-frame modular shelving unit, which doubled as a space divider between the kitchen and the daybed in the back corner that ‘Choly frequented whenever scaling the loft bed proved too taxing. Slumped at it in a dark tank top and his orange leggings, before the ex-stalker lay a quaint butcher-paper and twine parcel, a paring knife, and his reader on a kickstand. With the apartment to himself, ‘Choly surveyed some of the pieces in his drafts and rubbed at his marred face in a dull restlessness. Grazing his recent cheek suture, he flinched and stood, and he paced in the narrow track the length of the apartment which functioned not unlike a hallway.

Two years ago, such incisions would have been made in the spirit of verbot chasing. He sniveled in anger at the impotence of having had to make such a superficial adjustment for sake of his own clumsiness, rather than in the aftermath of risky enterprises. He'd tried several times to contact the Tellurides after the riots and subsequent quarantine, and he knew in his gut that all three of them had gotten walled up with the rest of the Quarter. And the Geek, and Chalcedony, too, for all he knew. His only solace came in knowing that at least his parents had moved back in together downstate before things had gotten especially hairy.

He returned to the kitchen and rinsed out a mug to pour himself a fresh cup of black coffee from the carafe Cecil had brewed for breakfast, and he sat again. Then, he snipped the string on the box and unfurled its wrappings. His horn-rimmed glasses came off and lay across the table from him as he continued massaging at his cheeks and chin and neck marbled with errant scars. He flicked up the messaging app frame and clicked on Augen’s active username, and sighed. Rather than initiate conversation, he produced from the small wax-coated cardstock box a decently-sized chalky pastel ball. He smoothed out the parchment with a detached free hand, and set down the ball of Confec atop it with the other.

The ball bore a mealy consistency somewhere between soap and fudge. A quarter-inch butt fell to the paper, and he stuck it in his mouth to let the hyssop-like bouquet melt on his tongue as he sank into his chair and hesitated on the chat he’d opened.

ketherphorbia: you’re up early 9augen: funny, i was just about to message you. not at the library today? ketherphorbia: no, and i’m not getting anywhere with what i <i>was</i> trying to do so you have my full attention 9augen: how does meeting up for lunch sound? ketherphorbia: i ketherphorbia: i just started in on a fresh confec bonbon, but yeah 9augen: the finnegans across the street from your old place? its on me ketherphorbia: something tells me you’re just looking for an excuse to milk their one-cred goldfinch lunch special 9augen: if you want a few, just say so. can you be there in... say, an hour? ketherphorbia: it honestly sounds fantastic. we can both talk. if you want

Still rattled from the abrupt invitation, ‘Choly put the knife in the sink and rounded the modular divider to rummage in the side-table drawers for something to throw on. First came his back brace, splints, and wrist braces, and he yanked together his salmon button-up, black sweater with the elbows cut out, and slashed jeans over the orange leggings. Taking his jewelry box into the bathroom, he then brushed his bangtails and tucked the right side back with his ABC-gum barrette. He hooked his new black acrylic skull-cutout gauge hangers into his ears, and plucked his balloon animal and saturn-symbol pendants to string around his neck. The spoon pin went in his left collar-point, and he sat on the daybed for his socks. On the way out the door, he tucked the wax paper wrapped Confec into his diamond-shaped cross-body bag and nabbed his cane, retrieved his glasses, and slipped into his mint creepers.

Along the short trip down to Level 5, he shot Cecil a short message:

|| Might not be home when you get off work. Augen invited me to lunch. He hasn’t said hardly a word since it happened, and I get the feeling he needs a friend right now. ||

Cecil replied to him as ‘Choly waved his pass and boarded the toll lift:

|| I can only imagine how hard it’s been for him. Hope he’s doing ok. You two have a good time. Love you. Give him a kiss for me ||

With a chuckle and a fish emoticon, ‘Choly exited the lift and hobbled down the street. He texted Augen that he'd arrived, asking where to meet him, because at first he didn't see him outside. Leaning on the front facade of the Finnegan’s, a tall gothic figure smoked religiously. The young man with dark hair pulled into a low messy bun wore a black button-down and drop-crotch pants, a dark grey knee-length gauzy vest, a large black shawl-scarf wrapped around his shoulders and neck, and mesh boots. Upon closer inspection, the combination of facial body mods--spider bites, gauged one-inch ears and 2ga medusa with glass plugs, symmetrical double brow piercings, and batwing clicker--confirmed for ‘Choly that this was his friend. Somehow, even with his suspicion as to why Augen had initiated the meeting, he’d still expected to find him his old self, and not this anxious chain-smoking human mess. Augen rolled his eyes at him, having just checked his messages.

“Word of warning, I’m a bit thrushed right now,” 'Choly blurted out. Rather than respond, Augen leaned down and steadied ‘Choly’s chin to give him a kiss. ‘Choly smiled strangely and reciprocated with a second peck, then navigated the awkward posture into a hug as he tucked his head against Augen’s chest. It unnerved 'Choly that his friend was no longer cold-blooded, no longer clammy and tepid, but he kept it to himself. “...Hello to you, too.”

“I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.” Augen rubbed at ‘Choly’s scruff and held the door for him. He eyed ‘Choly’s sweater dully in passing. “<i>Don’t Quit Your Daydream</i>, huh?”<br>

‘Choly looked down at the saying printed on his front once they’d cleared the atrium, and his brows upturned.

“Hah, maladaptive daydreaming. Had it for years. I just kinda threw something on so I wouldn’t run late.”

“Daydream... into a living nightmare...”

With the detached comment, Augen waved down a server to seat them. Marinating in his dissociative veneer, ‘Choly swallowed hard at the prospect of purposefully navigating his mental filter. They settled at a table amid the lunch traffic, and with a series of finger gestures along the tabletop which doubled as a touchscreen menu, both ordered pinzones dorados and got to glancing over their options in silence. The server, a young brunet named Bert, promptly came and left with their drinks, as well as a basket of multicolored meal-rinds and two dishes of salsa. 'Choly sipped at his golden glowing pinzón, a smooth over-ice mix of tonic, hydroponic mezcal, triple sec, and lime liqueur, and mentally praised the facility with which one could get drunk at any hour in this city.

“So... this is a thing now.” ‘Choly got a rind real heavy with salsa and shoved it in his mouth.

Augen knocked back half his liquor in one motion, and slouched over it.

“I’d lived myself so fully, that I’d nearly forgotten what it was like to be human. I’ve missed smoking, if we’re looking for an upside to all this.”

“There’s gotta be a way t’get back what you had. At least some of it?”

“That’s... just about the last thing I want to talk about right now. Past tense doesn’t feel so great.”

They used their mouths to crunch rinds and nothing else. Augen took a hit off the cig around his neck, and with a deep exhale he shut his sunken eyes, the vapors entangling with the odd abstract light fixture over the table. Once they'd placed their orders, 'Choly did his best to people watch behind a zoned out Augen, mostly observing the rotation of three servers popping in and out of the kitchen door with dishes. When a couple that sat on the same side of their far-corner booth thought 'Choly gawked at their unapologetic PDAs and gave him a stink-eye, he coughed, and started trying to read the pattern of scrapbooked web articles which plastered every wall and the ceiling of the restaurant. The theme of all the articles painted up Tri-City's sheer melting pot culture as a fusion city, boasting a collage of articles about people from just about every level in the hyper-metroplex.

Bert interrupted their silence with their meals, and 'Choly squirmed back to give the server the space to lay it out on the table. The teen couldn't hide a sigh of relief as he picked up one plate, and glanced between the both of them.

"Who ordered the wraps?"

Augen gave him a lazy hand gesture, and the plate slid over to him. On Augen’s plate of spring wraps lay six large seared shrimp. Sliced in half both for presentation and facility, the three girthy wraps were stuffed with a combination of mushroom slices, seaweed, and fried mealworms.

"And then, the benedict's yours. Extra sauce?"

"Yes, thank you," 'Choly lauded with a heavily modulated affect, as the other mess of a plate came his way. A viscous pale yellow-green mess blanketed two nondescript mounds of protein and bread, and along its side the cook had scattered soft, colorful citrus gummies. "So glad I can still get breakfast here this late."

"Is there anyth--" Bert broke off, unable not to stare at Augen, as he fished out a pair of napkin-rolled utensils to give them. Augen returned the stare, deadpan.

"...Spring wraps, and a side order of shrimp. It is you."

‘Choly gave the poor boy a glossy smile, about to praise how good it all looked, but he quickly drooped in recognition of the tension.

“So I took a bath today,” Augen dismissed, total fatigue in his voice. “Big deal.”

‘Choly coughed, cataract-bloom eyes wide as he took a stiff sip. Setting the pinzón back down, he tried to smile up at the waiter again, his voice cracking.

"Could we get more rinds?"

The waiter shook his head and shut his eyes, then nodded.

“--Sure thing.”

“And we already need another round of <i>birds</i>.” Augen traced the edge of the faded glass with one black-polished finger and a heavy-lidded, eyelined smirk.

The server flashed him a fake grin, poorly hiding his revelry that the city had defanged the loathsome goth.

“I’ll be right back.”

‘Choly fought with the self-conscious selfishness of directing the conversation to himself, but still he persisted, hoping to distract his friend from getting recognized by his typical order. ‘Choly unrolled his flatware to tuck the napkin beside his plate, and took up the table knife and fork with zeal. He didn’t want to admit it, but as had become typical in the past few weeks, the only thing he’d put in his stomach so far by that time of day was a slice of wax and half a cup of coffee. Augen took precise bites, holding his food gingerly with thoroughly ring-encrusted hands. His face stitched with a faint sweat which could have been from stress, the heat of the food, or even from the start of enebriation. 'Choly observed in distant and fascinated contemplation, unsure whether his friend derived his mannerisms from humanity or the vestiges of having so recently once been a hybrid. Augen shot him a vague glance, and he cringed from getting caught watching. ‘Choly pushed the sauce-drenched larva-hash back up on the one round bready thing he’d been cutting bites from, sheepish.

“If you don’t wanna talk about it, there’s gotta be something you can do to take your mind off it instead? Have you tried... writing, since...?”

Augen finished off the first drink right when Bert swung by two replacements and more rinds and salsa. ‘Choly hadn’t even drunk half of his first pinzón yet, and he nudged his new one his friend’s way, knowing the rate this meal was going. “Most of the time,” the goth mumbled, welcoming the offer, “my writing takes a particular head space. And I sure as fuck haven’t been in it.”

“I mean, like. Not in a carnal sense. Sort of in a carnal sense. An emotional sense? A purgative sense?”

Augen kept his eyes on his food, but his ears patently on his friend. ‘Choly’s hallmark withdrawn posture and tone signaled vague, incumbent rambling. With welcome resignation the goth listened, as he’d aspired from the start. After all, ‘Choly always had been the long-winded one of them.

“You... You remember how I was writing stories about me gettin’ with the Geek, but then I stopped abruptly? The last wip I posted before I stopped was right after I found out that the Geek and the Larva were the same person. Early on, the reasons I couldn’t reconcile with finishing the piece were ‘cause of how badly my first encounter with him went, but then fantasy turned into reality and he... caught me stalkin’ him and. You remember that right?” ‘Choly fished his reader from his bag, and tried to locate a picture in his camera roll. “I know I sent you a selfie of the black eye he gave me...”

“...You couldn’t shut up about it for a month. Heh.”

‘Choly looked up from his reader with a dull gloss to his features, and sniffed. “He even tracked me down, what, five weeks later? An’ things got super weird--" He chewed at his labret. "...I’m still trying to process everything that happened two years ago.”

“This is about the walls, isn’t it.”

“Not quite. And yet. Exactly. I just. I owe it to him to get the details right, don’t I? It feels real lousy to even consider writing a nonfictional account of him, and yet.” He popped an orange gummy in his mouth, and licked the thick, tangy sauce off his swan-splinted fingertip. “I feel like I need to get the very concept of him in print, to get it out from inside of me. I know it’s already been two years since the walls went up, but I don’t think it’s possible for me to forget all that... death, even for a day.” A grapefruit one, this time. “How do you stay motivated to write something that hurts and arouses you, both in ways nothing else has ever really managed to?”

Augen dipped a spring roll in his salsa, and started working on the third drink. Not glancing up from his food, his brows piqued with heavy lids.

“A difficult question. Perhaps a better reply would be another question: Who’re you writing this for?”

‘Choly set down his utensils and stared down his food.

“I’d say it was for me, but I feel like I need to put his ghost to rest. I’d say it was for him, but it’s also in hopes of jamming my brain because something more accurate could exist of him than anything I’ve written of him prior. And I’d... say it was for you, or any of my followers, but I... don’t even know if I can bring myself to post the results.” The dreg sneaked the Confec from his bag and set it beside his plate. “I... I gotta have another slice.”

That got Augen’s attention.

“Mmh. Mind sharing?”

“Oh, absolutely.”

‘Choly sliced through the partial ball a few times with his thumbs against the spine of the knife, and Augen reached over to help himself to one. Wincing at the bitterness, he chewed it up and washed it down with more liquor. 'Choly simply slouched back and let the stringent melt go for a few minutes, thinking it nearly paired with the citrus cubes.

“Cecil knows about us,” Augen began, eyes stitched shut, “but you never did tell Cecil about the Geek, did you? Have you ever wanted to?”

“I told him about Chalcedony. And he may not have said anything, but I know he knows about me an’ the Geek. Can’t not. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to how open he is to it all. It’s like he believes leaving me untethered keeps me more faithful. He’s... not wrong, I guess.” ‘Choly looked up when he heard Augen stifle a choke, and suddenly he regretted sharing. His friend’s face was glistening, grey eyes wide. “Are you-- all right?”

“How’s everything tasting so far?” Bert interjected in passing, trying to hide concern when he he paused noticing Augen’s demeanor.

“Don't mind him." 'Choly quickly stashed the Confec back in his bag, unsure whether having it would cause them trouble. "I think something just went down the wrong way.”

The boy frowned at the Augen, who blanched and rubbed at his Adam’s apple a bit. On cue, Augen forced a cough.

“I... It's nothing."

Augen tapped a finger on his glass, not looking to Bert, and the waiter plucked up their empty glasses with a nod and excused himself, shaking his head in delirious incredulity at what had become of their once most troublesome patron.

“Seriously... Are you okay? You know you’re supposed to let that stuff melt slow.”

Rather than reply, the goth took one of ‘Choly’s wristbraced hands in both of his own, and guided it to hold his strained throat. He sustained breathless, tormented eye contact.

“It's wearing off faster than I was planning. Thought for sure I'd at least get to slagging finish eating. I'll... I'll take it.”

On to part 2 »»»

#biopunk #cyberpunk #dystopian #drugs tw #alcohol tw #dysphoria mention #body horror #the uptake #with symbiotic self indulgence #wssi #only the vital ones #melanochro kara #august ritter #hopefully starting to understand what's got choly so bugged out that he needs... medicating

[romioneflufffest]

Sweet Dreams

Title: Sweet Dreams

Author: @chicgeekgirl89

Prompt: They both hate the song that one of the children’s toys make

Description: Being a new parent is exhausting.

Rating: T (for a teeny, tiny bit of language)

“Is she hungry?”

“No I’ve tried, she won’t eat.”

“Maybe she’s wet.”

“She can’t be, I’ve only just changed her.”

“Could she be sick?”

“I don’t know Ron, you’re not the only one here who’s never had a baby before!” Hermione said in exasperation, bouncing her screaming child tiredly where she sat on their bed.

“Well we have to do something! She’s been crying for hours!”

“I know.” Hermione seemed on the verge of a nervous collapse. “I don’t think there’s any hope for it.”

It didn’t seem possible that Ron’s face could fall any further, but it did. “Again?”

“It’s the only thing she likes!” She looked at him, tears in her eyes. “We have to. I can’t take listening to her like this any longer.”

As if sensing that her mildly famous, but woefully inexperienced parents were at their wits end, three-week-old Rose Granger-Weasley let out a bloodcurdling scream that caused the hair on the back of Ron’s neck to stand up.

“All right! All right!” his voice cracked in panic. “Put her in the basinet!”

Hermione laid the baby in her bed, still shrieking at the top of her lungs. “All right Rosie, it’s all right,” Ron told her. “I’ve got your toy right here.”

He pushed the button and then sat down heavily on the bed next to his wife as tinny music filled the room. “I hate that bloody toy,” he said tiredly.

“Don’t swear in front of the baby,” Hermione said automatically, her monotone voice an indication of how much she also hated that toy.

The offending toy was a little lion with a button in the center which, when pressed, caused it to light up and play an electronic version of a song that was vaguely familiar, but to which neither Ron nor Hermione, in their sleep deprived state, could remember the words. It was the only thing that calmed their distraught child, but it also meant neither one of them could sleep as the sound was incredibly annoying and it only played for one minute and twelve seconds before shutting off. As soon as it did, Rose would cry and the cycle started all over again.

“I cannot believe that our beautiful, magical baby will only fall asleep to a muggle toy your parents bought for five pounds that makes me want to rip my ears off,” Ron told his wife.

“What are we going to do?” Hermione asked. “We haven’t slept in a week. What if she never stops crying? What if we just have to keep pressing the button on that toy over and over and over again? How is she ever going to function? How is she going to go to Hogwarts or get a job?”

Ron’s eyes were wide. “We’ll have to go to Hogwarts with her. How are we going to do that? I can’t get into the girl’s dormitory,” he said. “Oh god, what are we going to do?”

It was a clear mark of exhaustion that both of them were completely serious and that neither realized the ridiculousness of these statements.

The room went quiet and dark and Rose immediately began to wail. “I’ll get it,” Hermione said wearily, stumbling toward the baby. “It’s okay sweetie, Mummy’s here.”

She pushed the button once. And then again. “Oh god.”

“What’s wrong?” Ron asked.

“I think the batteries are dead.”

Rose’s screaming grew louder.

“What do you mean, the batteries?”

“Batteries, Ron! Batteries! They’re the muggle things that make this toy work! Your dad has loads of them in his shed, how can you not know what batteries are?” Hermione cried frantically, searching her bedside table.

“I know what a bloody battery is!”

“Don’t swear in front of the baby!” She slammed the drawer shut, running her hands through her hair. “I don’t have anymore. I thought I did, but I don’t.”

“Well what are we going to do?!” Ron cried over the baby’s screaming.

“I-I don’t know!” Hermione said miserably.

“I’ll go check the kitchen!” Ron yelled too loudly as he charged manically out the door into the living room.

Hermione scooped Rose back into her arms and resumed bouncing once more to no avail. “Come on sweetie,” Hermione told her daughter. “You don’t need that toy to go to sleep, you just close your eyes-“

But Rose continued to cry.

“Okay!” Ron ran back into the room, eyes wild. “There are no batteries in the kitchen. But it’s okay because I called Harry.”

“Harry?!”

“Hermione,” he put a hand on her shoulder looking very serious, albeit slightly crazy, “Harry lived with muggles. He knows about muggle things. He. Might. Have. Batteries.” 

“Okay yeah,” Hermione nodded vigorously. “Yeah good plan. That’s great.”

There was a pop in the living room and then the sound of Harry’s voice. “Ron? Hermione? Are you all right?”

“We’re in the bedroom!” Ron called. “Did you bring the batteries?”

“Batteries?” Harry appeared in the doorway, his face concerned. “Why would I bring batteries?”

“You didn’t bring them?” Hermione looked close to collapsing.

“Ron’s patronus just burst into my house at three o’clock in the morning and said ‘baby batwings’ so no, I didn’t bring any batteries, I panicked and got over here as fast as I could.” He peered at them curiously. “What’s happened to you two? Is Rose all right?”

“She won’t stop crying!” Hermione said hysterically. “It doesn’t matter what we do, she just. Keeps. Crying.”

“We haven’t slept in a week,” Ron croaked. “And then that stupid, bloody toy—“

“DON’T SWEAR IN FRONT OF THE BABY!” Hermione shrieked.

“All right,” Harry said, holding up his hands in what he hoped was a pacifying manner. “Hermione, give Rose to me.”

She hesitated, perhaps uncertain that anything Harry did would change their situation. “It’s all right,” he told her. “You two go in the living room and just sit down for a minute. I’ve got her.”

She placed a wailing Rose into his arms and she and Ron walked into the living room where they collapsed onto the sofa.

Both Ron and Hermione would like to say that they spent the next ten minutes calming down and sweetly reassuring one another that they were doing fine as parents; that all babies cry and they were not the only people in the world who couldn’t calm their distraught infant. But in actuality they both sat unmoving, eyes glazed over in a kind of stupor on either end of the sofa until Harry poked his head out of their bedroom.

“She’s asleep,” he told them.

Ron blinked at him. “What?”

“Rose. She’s sleeping.”           

“How…?” Hermione seemed at a loss for words.

“Come and see.”

They returned to their room to find their baby fast asleep. A spinning, glittering globe was suspended magically in the air above the basinet casting a mesmerizing light over the ceiling and walls. “What is that?” Ron asked.

“It’s a Star Spinner,” Harry said. “George made it for us when James was born. I had it in my pocket so I thought I’d give it a try. Al doesn’t seem particularly interested in it and I figured you three might need it more than we do.”

Hermione threw her arms around Harry’s neck, sobbing. “Thank you!”

Harry laughed. “No problem. Now, try to get some sleep.”

Hermione woke in the morning to light streaming in the window. She pushed her hair groggily out of her face and struggled to look at the clock. 8:30am. “Ron, Ron wake up!” she said, shoving his arm and struggling toward the basinet. “Rose!”

“Whatisit?” he mumbled sleepily, “She okay?”

Hermione stared down at the sleeping baby. “I don’t believe it,” she said.

Ron stood and joined her. “She’s still asleep.”

“I have never been more glad in my life that we are best friends with Harry Potter,” Hermione said fervently.

Ron laughed and pulled her back to their bed where she snuggled into his chest. “It’s been weeks since we’ve gotten to do this,” she told him.

“Since before Rosie was born. And you were quite a bit bigger then.”

“I still fit though.”

“Yeah.” She could hear the smile in his voice even though she was facing away from him. “You always fit.” He pressed a kiss to her shoulder. “I’m glad you’re the one doing this with me.”

She turned so that she could look at him. “Me too,” she said softly. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Her eyes widened. “My Bonnie Lies Over the Ocean.”

“What?”

“That’s the song the toy plays! My Bonnie Lies Over the Ocean!” She sighed in relief. “Oh thank Merlin, I thought that was going to bother me forever.”

“I don’t care if it is a Gryffindor lion. When we get out of this bed I’m going to destroy that toy.”

“Even if it turns her into a Slytherin?”

“For our sanity, I’m willing to risk it,” he said bravely as she laughed.

Her laughter woke Rose who began to fuss but quieted once Hermione brought her to their bed and snuggled her in between them. “What?” she asked when she caught Ron watching.

“You’re an amazing mum,” he said.

She rolled her eyes. “I’m barely hanging on here Ron. Last night made that very evident.”

“No, I mean it, you’re brilliant. This is the best thing you’ve ever done. I didn’t think I could love you anymore but the way you look at her and take care of her…it’s amazing.”

Tears welled up in Hermione’s eyes and she wiped them away furiously. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” he asked. “What’s wrong?”

“You’re saying such nice things and all I can do is cry. I don’t know who’s cried more in the last three weeks, me or her. You certainly didn’t know you were signing on for a highly opinionated baby and an emotionally unstable wife.”

He chuckled, and cupped her face tenderly, wiping away the remaining tears with his thumb. “It’s mental, but I love it. I wouldn’t change a thing about our life right now. What we have is perfect.”

Hermione looked down at her sweet daughter and then back into the eyes of her adoring husband. “It really is, isn’t it?”

#Romione #Ron and Hermione #Romione Fluff Fest #romioneflufffest #Fic #submission

[zealoptics]

Turn Your Car Into the Ultimate Adventure Wagon 

By Jamie Normandin & Brian Sewell

As the Stay At Home orders began to be put in place in Colorado, we decided to embark on a new project - a build out in our 4Runner so when the pandemic ends, we are ready to hit the road and get lost in the woods.

We have camped for the last 4 years with a RTT on our 4Runner. It is a Tepui Ayer which is the smallest/lightest RTT that tepui offers. It has been great,  but it has been slightly small for us, along with all the other standard RTT complaints; you have to setup/breakdown anytime you want to take the rig anywhere, which isn’t a big deal, until you go to Moab and you are on the move everyday for a couple days in a row.  Due to this, we figured this year we would try building a platform inside the vehicle so we don’t have to break down for every adventure.

I started searching online for drawer systems and stumbled upon Solid Wood Worx. Brian at Solid Wood Worx builds drawer systems for all sorts of different vehicles, but he also sells the build plans for every model 4Runner. The gen 5 drawer plan is $40 and although it honestly is a pretty basic set of plans, that $40 saved me a ton of measuring and a ton of headache down the road if something didn’t fit right. It also gave me a guided starting point. For people that have a little bit of builders block and have trouble picking a direction when building something from scratch, I highly recommend it. They also sell the 36” drawer sliders that you need to build the drawers. They sell them for $149 for all 4 of them, and honestly that was a pretty good price for them considering they are rated at a very high weight; 200lbs each, and I didn’t have to worry about trying to find something that would work to save a couple dollars. The cheapest I found for drawer sliders that would work were $36 a piece so that would have only saved me $5. I’d recommend just buying them from Solid Wood Worx.** **

Starting with the drawer plans, I used exactly 1 sheet of ½” birch plywood and 1 sheet of ¾” birch plywood. I layed out all the pieces I needed to cut on a piece of paper so I didn’t have much waste. Everything I needed to cut for the drawer system fit on those 2 pieces of plywood. I cut all the pieces to what the plans told me and figured I would weigh them since I have access to a large crate shipping scale at work. The wood for the drawer system weighed 88lbs. Much lighter than most of the RTT on the market if you are concerned about overall weight.

Next up was assembling the drawers. I deburred and sanded all the corners and edges on every piece before I started to make sure that I didn’t have any splinters or sharp points when I was done. I used screws along with wood glue on everything just to make sure will last a long time and can take the beating we will give it camping as much as we do. When assembling the box and drawers it is CRITICAL you make sure all your measurements are perfect along with everything assembled and lining up perfectly. If it isn’t dead on, your drawer sliders won’t line up and your drawers will bind up and won’t slide. In the plans SWW just had some hand holes in the front to pull on the drawers. I had some sprung recessed handles from another box build that I used that I thought were a lot nicer than just some holes in the front. I also used some butterfly pull latches on the side of the drawers to keep the drawers closed and not opening up when driving or opening the rear hatch on a hill. I built some batwing things that covered the open areas behind the wheel well and created 2 little cubbies to store more items. You can buy templates for these hinged side pieces from SWW that you print out a trace onto wood and use a jigsaw to cut out. They are $5 so again pretty cheap for what they are, but you can totally do it without. I cut some out with their templates and used their left side template but made my own for the right side.

To put this box in the back of the 4Runner, you needed to remove the small carpeted piece between the rear floor and the back seats. This is done by removing the 2 bolts used to mount the D-rings and then pulling up on that piece until it pops out. I then removed the 2 brackets for the D-rings that mount them to the truck frame and screwed them to the bottom of the box so that the box would be hard mounted to the truck, meaning it won’t move around or flip over if both drawers are open at the same time.

This is the butterfly latch on the side of the drawer placed to keep it shut while moving around

Now that the drawers were completed, I needed to build the sleeping platform. Unfortunately with the fact that Jamie and I are both tall people, the 5 ½ feet you get with the rear seats in wasn’t enough. Luckily the rear seat bottoms are attached with just 4 bolts. I took those 4 bolts out and replaced them with studs and put nuts on there to make it easier in the future. Then I built a t handle with a socket on the end so you can quickly loosen those nuts and pull the seats out. They store pretty well in the front seats. Another option is to just take them out before you go camping. Easily taking the rear seat bottoms out got us an extra 9” of room to stretch out with.

We also had a very tough time finding a mattress that was shorter than 72”. Being that the platform hinged off of the drawer box, you only had 27” from the box to the roof of the car. My solution was to build a double hinged platform that hinged the first 27” then hinged another 9” that gave us a total of 75” long by 41” wide to sleep on. That also solved another issue with this platform; Jamie uses this truck for work. She has to transport displays and other work related items, so the double hinge creates a flat surface with the rear seat bottoms in or out. She can easily fold the seats up and fold the platform down to the first hinge point and easily have a flat surface to load things into the truck. Once I had the platform itself working, I had to figure out support legs. I needed something that was quick and easy to set up, but also very supportive as there will be 2 people (and a bernese mountain dog) sleeping on this. My solution was a 1” stainless tube with a threaded end. I then used pronged nuts hammered into the top side of the platform. With the leg threaded into the pronged nut from the bottom side, it would sandwich the plywood and keep the leg extremely stable. To avoid pushing the winged nut out of the wood when screwing in the leg I JB welded the nut to the wood. After testing a handful of different glues and epoxies I found JB weld to work the best at gluing metal to wood. I used 4 legs; 2 long to go down to the rear footwell and 2 short to go down to the seat back.

Now that the drawers, platform, and sides were all built, the final portion of this project started. Sanding any of the painted wood, which if you use new plywood you won’t have to do. The amount of time I took was incredible and I would recommend using new plywood to avoid this and save time.. We then applied Olympic Water Guard wood sealer to every surface. Once that dried, we painted everything with Rustoleum Professional semi gloss spray paint to make everything black and match the interior of the 4Runner. The final touch to the finish of this platform was the carpet. I honestly think this is what changed this whole setup from looking like a homemade box to looking like a professional did it. We glued and stapled black carpet to everything besides the bottom of the box

Now that everything was finished, painted and carpeted it was time to put it back in the truck, assemble with all of the hinges, and test it out.

This is with the sleeping platform folded up

This is with the sleeping platform folded down.

As for a mattress and sleeping setup, we went with an Exped Deepsleep Mat Duo 7.5m. It measures 72”x41”x3” and fits literally perfect with this setup and is extremely comfortable. The sleeping bag is a Sierra Designs Backcountry Bed Duo and for a couple, there isn’t a better or warmer sleeping bag. It is a zipperless sleeping bag with sleeping pad inserts. We used it in our Tepui last year and even used it in the snow. The 700 fill down kept us warm, but for people that run hot, like I do, it has foot vents in the bottom that you can stick your feet out of, so highly recommend it.

Here is the final product

Can’t wait for this quarantine to be over and life to go back to normal so we can put this to use. For now we continue to stay inside and do our part so we can use this sooner rather than later.

Parts List

Exped Mattress with REI discount $145.45

Solid Wood Worx Plans $45

Plywood $111.23

Drawer sliders $149

Wood sealer $13.06

Adhesive $25.96

Hinge $22.76

Pronged Nuts $32.88

Wood filler $10

Carpet $32

Rubber Feet for legs $8.75

Turnbuckles $12

Drawer handles $11

Butterfly latches $6

Misc hardware $15

Carpet waterproofing $22

Total $662.09

[yumikire]

So I was purusing through my google drive and found this old Moonlight x Hawaii 5-0 crossover I started. Posting it here in hopes people will prompt me to continue. Right now I just don’t seem to have the will. If you like it, let me know.

***********

L.A. was the last place Danny had ever expected to end up in his life. Though with the divorce, and Rachel’s new job, that was where his daughter Grace went and, in the process, Danny. He figured he should be grateful it wasn’t Hawaii, like had been the plan originally, but things had changed last minute and so here he was in Los Angeles.

 One case in and he already deeply missed Jersey. L.A. was just so Hollywood, and the media drove everything to ridiculous extremes. Example number one: a Hearst college student, Kelly Foster, was found murdered and floating in a fountain. Somehow one of the paparazzi had managed to get photos of the body and, upon seeing the two puncture wounds visible on her neck, had decided that a vampire was responsible. “Vampire Slaying Rocks L.A.” was the actual headline and Danny had to resist the urge to throw his phone out the car window. Only in this city would an imaginary supernatural being actually be considered a suspect in a murder, you know as opposed to a flesh and blood human being.

 To make matters worse, there was a private investigator by the name of Mick St. John who kept showing up at his crime scenes. The first time they met had been at the dead girl’s apartment. It was fairly late in the evening, the sun having long since disappeared from the sky. Danny had decided to go back over the place to see if anything was overlooked. With so many cops in one space, and so much motion and energy filling the room it would be easy for smaller details to be over looked. If there was one thing years of experience had taught him, it was that the smallest details were often the most important. Pulling out the keys to the apartment, he unlocked the door and stepped into the dark room groping the wall for the light switch. Before he could find it however a small shuffling noise made him glance into the room itself. A tall dark figure stood looming next to the victim’s desk, hand in one of its open top drawers.

 “Detective Danny Williams, LAPD hands in the air!” Danny shouts, gun out of its holster.

“Whoa man, take it easy. My name is Mick St. John, and I’m a private investigator.” Keeping his gun still trained on the man, Danny flipped on the elusive light switch and walked closer.

 “Let’s see some ID then.” Danny replied, pointing to his own badge clipped on his belt, then watched as the man slowly pulled out a brown wallet from his breast pocket and held it out for inspection.

 “So who are you working for Mr. St John?” Danny asked holstering his gun.

“That falls under my client confidentiality agreement Mr. Williams,” the investigator responded with a smirk before turning away. Danny gritted his teeth to keep his temper in check before walking over to look over the man’s shoulder. Mick was holding a silver pendent, two batwings flaring off of both sides.

 “I remember seeing something similar to this in Kelly’s car. It was hanging off her rear-view mirror.”

“It’s an Egyptian hieroglyph. An insignia for an ancient blood cult.” Replied Mick off-handly, pulling out a small vial of blood from inside the pendant.  

 Danny turned away and groaned, hands shooting out in exasperation. “Great, more vampire mumbo jumbo.”

 “There’s no such thing as vampires,” stated the brunet. Danny shot him an unimpressed look.

 “Oh you don’t say? Still, given all the goth-o-rama in this room it seems like the vic might have had a thing for them.”

 “Yeah, I guess they’re coming back in style.”

 “Fantastic, another ridiculous fad to suffer through.” Mick raised an eyebrow,

 “I doubt it will be that bad.”

 “You, my friend, do not have an 8 year old daughter. I already have to deal with One Direction and Hannah Montana as it is.” Turning back Danny looked at the vial of blood in Mick’s hand, “Here, give that to me and I’ll take it to the police to analyze.”

 Before Mick could hand it over, Danny felt his phone vibrating in his back pocket. Taking it out, he smiled gently when he saw the name on the caller ID, and turned around to answer. “Hey monkey, how was your first day of school?”

 “Great Danno! I’ve already started making some new friends, and I got picked to take care of the class’ pet rabbit this weekend.”

 “Well that’s fantastic! I’ll have to stock up on carrots. Listen monkey, I’m in the middle of work right now can I call you back in an hour?”

 “Sure Danno! I love you!”

 “Love you too monkey.”

 Putting his phone away he turned around. “Sorry, my daughter called and-” Mick was nowhere to be seen, along with the blood vial.

“Son of a bitch.”

#moonlight #hawaii 5-0 #mcdanno #mickdanno #get it #moonlight x h50 #mick st john #danny williams

[the-uptake]

Only the Vital Ones, 1

The Uptake, With Symbiotic Self-Indulgence. Book III, Chapter 3, Part 1. (Go to Pt.2) Go to next chapter.

TW: Drug use?

“In those days, desires weren’t allowed to become reality. So, fantasy was substituted for them–films, books, pictures. They called it ‘art.’ But, when your desires become reality, you don’t need fantasy any longer, or art.”–Amyl Nitrate, “Jubilee”

The small brushed steel kitchen table of Cecil and ‘Choly’s studio apartment abutted a full-height open-frame modular shelving unit, which doubled as a space divider between the kitchen and the daybed in the back corner that ‘Choly frequented whenever scaling the loft bed proved too taxing. Slumped at it in a dark tank top and his orange leggings, before the ex-stalker lay a quaint butcher-paper and twine parcel, a paring knife, and his reader on a kickstand. With the apartment to himself, ‘Choly surveyed some of the pieces in his drafts and rubbed at his marred face in a dull restlessness. Grazing his recent cheek suture, he flinched and stood, and he paced in the narrow track the length of the apartment which functioned not unlike a hallway.

Two years ago, such incisions would have been made in the spirit of verbot chasing. He sniveled in anger at the impotence of having had to make such a superficial adjustment for sake of his own clumsiness, rather than in the aftermath of risky enterprises. He'd tried several times to contact the Tellurides after the riots and subsequent quarantine, and he knew in his gut that all three of them had gotten walled up with the rest of the Quarter. And the Geek, and Chalcedony, too, for all he knew. His only solace came in knowing that at least his parents had moved back in together downstate before things had gotten especially hairy.

He returned to the kitchen and rinsed out a mug to pour himself a fresh cup of black coffee from the carafe Cecil had brewed for breakfast, and he sat again. Then, he snipped the string on the box and unfurled its wrappings. His horn-rimmed glasses came off and lay across the table from him as he continued massaging at his cheeks and chin and neck marbled with errant scars. He flicked up the messaging app frame and clicked on Augen’s active username, and sighed. Rather than initiate conversation, he produced from the small wax-coated cardstock box a decently-sized chalky pastel ball. He smoothed out the parchment with a detached free hand, and set down the ball of Confec atop it with the other.

The ball bore a mealy consistency somewhere between soap and fudge. A quarter-inch butt fell to the paper, and he stuck it in his mouth to let the hyssop-like bouquet melt on his tongue as he sank into his chair and hesitated on the chat he’d opened.

ketherphorbia: you’re up early 9augen: funny, i was just about to message you. not at the library today? ketherphorbia: no, and i’m not getting anywhere with what i was trying to do so you have my full attention 9augen: how does meeting up for lunch sound? ketherphorbia: i ketherphorbia: i just started in on a fresh confec bonbon, but yeah 9augen: the finnegans across the street from your old place? its on me ketherphorbia: something tells me you’re just looking for an excuse to milk their one-cred goldfinch lunch special 9augen: if you want a few, just say so. can you be there in... say, an hour? ketherphorbia: it honestly sounds fantastic. we can both talk. if you want

Still rattled from the abrupt invitation, ‘Choly put the knife in the sink and rounded the modular divider to rummage in the side-table drawers for something to throw on. First came his back brace, splints, and wrist braces, and he yanked together his salmon button-up, black sweater with the elbows cut out, and slashed jeans over the orange leggings. Taking his jewelry box into the bathroom, he then brushed his bangtails and tucked the right side back with his ABC-gum barrette. He hooked his new black acrylic skull-cutout gauge hangers into his ears, and plucked his balloon animal and saturn-symbol pendants to string around his neck. The spoon pin went in his left collar-point, and he sat on the daybed for his socks. On the way out the door, he tucked the wax paper wrapped Confec into his diamond-shaped cross-body bag and nabbed his cane, retrieved his glasses, and slipped into his mint creepers.

Along the short trip down to Level 5, he shot Cecil a short message:

|| Might not be home when you get off work. Augen invited me to lunch. He hasn’t said hardly a word since it happened, and I get the feeling he needs a friend right now. ||

Cecil replied to him as ‘Choly waved his pass and boarded the toll lift:

|| I can only imagine how hard it’s been for him. Hope he’s doing ok. You two have a good time. Love you. Give him a kiss for me ||

With a chuckle and a fish emoticon, ‘Choly exited the lift and hobbled down the street. He texted Augen that he'd arrived, asking where to meet him, because at first he didn't see him outside. Leaning on the front facade of the Finnegan’s, a tall gothic figure smoked religiously. The young man with dark hair pulled into a low messy bun wore a black button-down and drop-crotch pants, a dark grey knee-length gauzy vest, a large black shawl-scarf wrapped around his shoulders and neck, and mesh boots. Upon closer inspection, the combination of facial body mods--spider bites, gauged one-inch ears and 2ga medusa with glass plugs, symmetrical double brow piercings, and batwing clicker--confirmed for ‘Choly that this was his friend. Somehow, even with his suspicion as to why Augen had initiated the meeting, he’d still expected to find him his old self, and not this anxious chain-smoking human mess. Augen rolled his eyes at him, having just checked his messages.

“Word of warning, I’m a bit thrushed right now,” 'Choly blurted out. Rather than respond, Augen leaned down and steadied ‘Choly’s chin to give him a kiss. ‘Choly smiled strangely and reciprocated with a second peck, then navigated the awkward posture into a hug as he tucked his head against Augen’s chest. It unnerved 'Choly that his friend was no longer cold-blooded, no longer clammy and tepid, but he kept it to himself. “...Hello to you, too.”

“I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.” Augen rubbed at ‘Choly’s scruff and held the door for him. He eyed ‘Choly’s sweater dully in passing. “Don’t Quit Your Daydream, huh?”

‘Choly looked down at the saying printed on his front once they’d cleared the atrium, and his brows upturned.

“Hah, maladaptive daydreaming. Had it for years. I just kinda threw something on so I wouldn’t run late.”

“Daydream... into a living nightmare...”

With the detached comment, Augen waved down a server to seat them. Marinating in his dissociative veneer, ‘Choly swallowed hard at the prospect of purposefully navigating his mental filter. They settled at a table amid the lunch traffic, and with a series of finger gestures along the tabletop which doubled as a touchscreen menu, both ordered pinzones dorados and got to glancing over their options in silence. The server, a young brunet named Bert, promptly came and left with their drinks, as well as a basket of multicolored meal-rinds and two dishes of salsa. 'Choly sipped at his golden glowing pinzón, a smooth over-ice mix of tonic, hydroponic mezcal, triple sec, and lime liqueur, and mentally praised the facility with which one could get drunk at any hour in this city.

“So... this is a thing now.” ‘Choly got a rind real heavy with salsa and shoved it in his mouth.

Augen knocked back half his liquor in one motion, and slouched over it.

“I’d lived myself so fully, that I’d nearly forgotten what it was like to be human. I’ve missed smoking, if we’re looking for an upside to all this.”

“There’s gotta be a way t’get back what you had. At least some of it?”

“That’s... just about the last thing I want to talk about right now. Past tense doesn’t feel so great.”

They used their mouths to crunch rinds and nothing else. Augen took a hit off the cig around his neck, and with a deep exhale he shut his sunken eyes, the vapors entangling with the odd abstract light fixture over the table. Once they'd placed their orders, 'Choly did his best to people watch behind a zoned out Augen, mostly observing the rotation of three servers popping in and out of the kitchen door with dishes. When a couple that sat on the same side of their far-corner booth thought 'Choly gawked at their unapologetic PDAs and gave him a stink-eye, he coughed, and started trying to read the pattern of scrapbooked web articles which plastered every wall and the ceiling of the restaurant. The theme of all the articles painted up Tri-City's sheer melting pot culture as a fusion city, boasting a collage of articles about people from just about every level in the hyper-metroplex.

Bert interrupted their silence with their meals, and 'Choly squirmed back to give the server the space to lay it out on the table. The teen couldn't hide a sigh of relief as he picked up one plate, and glanced between the both of them.

"Who ordered the wraps?"

Augen gave him a lazy hand gesture, and the plate slid over to him. On Augen’s plate of spring wraps lay six large seared shrimp. Sliced in half both for presentation and facility, the three girthy wraps were stuffed with a combination of mushroom slices, seaweed, and fried mealworms.

"And then, the benedict's yours. Extra sauce?"

"Yes, thank you," 'Choly lauded with a heavily modulated affect, as the other mess of a plate came his way. A viscous pale yellow-green mess blanketed two nondescript mounds of protein and bread, and along its side the cook had scattered soft, colorful citrus gummies. "So glad I can still get breakfast here this late."

"Is there anyth--" Bert broke off, unable not to stare at Augen, as he fished out a pair of napkin-rolled utensils to give them. Augen returned the stare, deadpan.

"...Spring wraps, and a side order of shrimp. It is you."

‘Choly gave the poor boy a glossy smile, about to praise how good it all looked, but he quickly drooped in recognition of the tension.

“So I took a bath today,” Augen dismissed, total fatigue in his voice. “Big deal.”

‘Choly coughed, cataract-bloom eyes wide as he took a stiff sip. Setting the pinzón back down, he tried to smile up at the waiter again, his voice cracking.

"Could we get more rinds?"

The waiter shook his head and shut his eyes, then nodded.

“--Sure thing.”

“And we already need another round of birds.” Augen traced the edge of the faded glass with one black-polished finger and a heavy-lidded, eyelined smirk.

The server flashed him a fake grin, poorly hiding his revelry that the city had defanged the loathsome goth.

“I’ll be right back.”

‘Choly fought with the self-conscious selfishness of directing the conversation to himself, but still he persisted, hoping to distract his friend from getting recognized by his typical order. ‘Choly unrolled his flatware to tuck the napkin beside his plate, and took up the table knife and fork with zeal. He didn’t want to admit it, but as had become typical in the past few weeks, the only thing he’d put in his stomach so far by that time of day was a slice of wax and half a cup of coffee. Augen took precise bites, holding his food gingerly with thoroughly ring-encrusted hands. His face stitched with a faint sweat which could have been from stress, the heat of the food, or even from the start of enebriation. 'Choly observed in distant and fascinated contemplation, unsure whether his friend derived his mannerisms from humanity or the vestiges of having so recently once been a hybrid. Augen shot him a vague glance, and he cringed from getting caught watching. ‘Choly pushed the sauce-drenched larva-hash back up on the one round bready thing he’d been cutting bites from, sheepish.

“If you don’t wanna talk about it, there’s gotta be something you can do to take your mind off it instead? Have you tried... writing, since...?”

Augen finished off the first drink right when Bert swung by two replacements and more rinds and salsa. ‘Choly hadn’t even drunk half of his first pinzón yet, and he nudged his new one his friend’s way, knowing the rate this meal was going. “Most of the time,” the goth mumbled, welcoming the offer, “my writing takes a particular head space. And I sure as fuck haven’t been in it.”

“I mean, like. Not in a carnal sense. Sort of in a carnal sense. An emotional sense? A purgative sense?”

Augen kept his eyes on his food, but his ears patently on his friend. ‘Choly’s hallmark withdrawn posture and tone signaled vague, incumbent rambling. With welcome resignation the goth listened, as he’d aspired from the start. After all, ‘Choly always had been the long-winded one of them.

“You... You remember how I was writing stories about me gettin’ with the Geek, but then I stopped abruptly? The last wip I posted before I stopped was right after I found out that the Geek and the Larva were the same person. Early on, the reasons I couldn’t reconcile with finishing the piece were ‘cause of how badly my first encounter with him went, but then fantasy turned into reality and he... caught me stalkin’ him and. You remember that right?” ‘Choly fished his reader from his bag, and tried to locate a picture in his camera roll. “I know I sent you a selfie of the black eye he gave me...”

“...You couldn’t shut up about it for a month. Heh.”

‘Choly looked up from his reader with a dull gloss to his features, and sniffed. “He even tracked me down, what, five weeks later? An’ things got super weird--" He chewed at his labret. "...I’m still trying to process everything that happened two years ago.”

“This is about the walls, isn’t it.”

“Not quite. And yet. Exactly. I just. I owe it to him to get the details right, don’t I? It feels real lousy to even consider writing a nonfictional account of him, and yet.” He popped an orange gummy in his mouth, and licked the thick, tangy sauce off his swan-splinted fingertip. “I feel like I need to get the very concept of him in print, to get it out from inside of me. I know it’s already been two years since the walls went up, but I don’t think it’s possible for me to forget all that... death, even for a day.” A grapefruit one, this time. “How do you stay motivated to write something that hurts and arouses you, both in ways nothing else has ever really managed to?”

Augen dipped a spring roll in his salsa, and started working on the third drink. Not glancing up from his food, his brows piqued with heavy lids.

“A difficult question. Perhaps a better reply would be another question: Who’re you writing this for?”

‘Choly set down his utensils and stared down his food.

“I’d say it was for me, but I feel like I need to put his ghost to rest. I’d say it was for him, but it’s also in hopes of jamming my brain because something more accurate could exist of him than anything I’ve written of him prior. And I’d... say it was for you, or any of my followers, but I... don’t even know if I can bring myself to post the results.” The dreg sneaked the Confec from his bag and set it beside his plate. “I... I gotta have another slice.”

That got Augen’s attention.

“Mmh. Mind sharing?”

“Oh, absolutely.”

‘Choly sliced through the partial ball a few times with his thumbs against the spine of the knife, and Augen reached over to help himself to one. Wincing at the bitterness, he chewed it up and washed it down with more liquor. 'Choly simply slouched back and let the stringent melt go for a few minutes, thinking it nearly paired with the citrus cubes.

“Cecil knows about us,” Augen began, eyes stitched shut, “but you never did tell Cecil about the Geek, did you? Have you ever wanted to?”

“I told him about Chalcedony. And he may not have said anything, but I know he knows about me an’ the Geek. Can’t not. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to how open he is to it all. It’s like he believes leaving me untethered keeps me more faithful. He’s... not wrong, I guess.” ‘Choly looked up when he heard Augen stifle a choke, and suddenly he regretted sharing. His friend’s face was glistening, grey eyes wide. “Are you-- all right?”

“How’s everything tasting so far?” Bert interjected in passing, trying to hide concern when he he paused noticing Augen’s demeanor.

“Don't mind him." 'Choly quickly stashed the Confec back in his bag, unsure whether having it would cause them trouble. "I think something just went down the wrong way.”

The boy frowned at the Augen, who blanched and rubbed at his Adam’s apple a bit. On cue, Augen forced a cough.

“I... It's nothing."

Augen tapped a finger on his glass, not looking to Bert, and the waiter plucked up their empty glasses with a nod and excused himself, shaking his head in delirious incredulity at what had become of their once most troublesome patron.

“Seriously... Are you okay? You know you’re supposed to let that stuff melt slow.”

Rather than reply, the goth took one of ‘Choly’s wristbraced hands in both of his own, and guided it to hold his strained throat. He sustained breathless, tormented eye contact.

“It's wearing off faster than I was planning. Thought for sure I'd at least get to slagging finish eating. I'll... I'll take it.”

On to Part 2 »»»

#biopunk #cyberpunk #dystopian #entomophagy #the uptake #with symbiotic self indulgence #wssi #only the vital ones #melanochro kara #august ritter

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[zoorku-boipwi]

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[woarki-reurvi]

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[merika-borendo]

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#IFTTT #Chest+Of+Drawers

[beautyandthewarcanons]

Echo's Beacon: Part Twelve

[You can read part eleven here! All BATW & DTTR characters belong to @poisonappletales ! ❤]

Rosemary sobbed in her bedroom, wiping at her face. I appeared in the doorway then, approaching slowly.

"Hey, Rosemary." I greeted. "I wanted to check on you."

"Well, I'm absolutely miserable- that should be obvious!"

"I mean... that's why I wanted to come see you." I sat next to her, and Rosemary glanced at me for a moment.

"Well... you're a lot nicer than my awful cousin, at least." She replied. I handed her a handkerchief, and Rosemary loudly blew her nose with it. "I don't know why she's so mean to me all the time!" She cried. "It's as if she's embarassed to even be around me!"

"Have you spoken to Jasmine about how she makes you feel?" I asked.

"Of course I have! She doesn't care!" Rosemary beat her fists into the mattress.

"Maybe... maybe Jasmine thinks that she's trying to help you by what she's saying."

"How could hurting my feelings possibly help me?! Why are you taking her side, lady Kara?"

"I'm not taking anyone's side. But... I don't like seeing you upset."

"Then go yell at my cousin!"

"That's not going to help either." I replied. "... Rosemary... sometimes our families, people who are supposed to have our backs... are the ones who disappoint us the most. But I have a feeling that underneath all the coldness she shows you, Jasmine really does love you."

"Then you're as delusional as they say, lady Kara. She absolutely detests me. I see the way she looks at me... when the men are about... like I'm some giant ugly wart on her stupid face!"

"Rosemary... you have to try to take certain things with stride. Believe me... I've been guilty of not doing that either. But instead of focusing so much energy on her, maybe spend some time with the others?"

"Oh, like lady Wildfire?" She replied sarcastically.

"Wildfire isn't really nice to anyone, Rosemary. Maybe spend some time with the guys. You know, Chase is pretty nice."

"The Trold?! He's so gross!" Rosemary grimaced.

I pursed my lip, tilting my head then. "Now Rosemary... you're pretty mean to him."

"So?" She dabbed some remaining tear stains from her face.

"How is that any different than others being mean to you?"

"He's just a savage, lady Kara."

"How do you know that? Have you taken the time to get to know him? Or are you just going off by what clan he comes from?"

"W- Well... I mean... he's..."

"He's someone worth getting to know. We're going to be here for at least another three weeks. Plenty of time."

"You know who I'd like to get to know is that Hulder..."

I furrowed a brow. "Hulder?"

"Yes... sir Viktor, isn't it?"

I released the breath I was holding. "Right... Viktor. Well, why not get to know both of them? Nothing wrong with making more friends."

"I suppose..." Rosemary thought to herself for a moment.

I nodded my head toward the door. "Come on. Let's head back out there." I took her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. To my delight, Rosemary smiled.

"You're right- I'm not cooping myself up in here!" She got up, going to the door. She stopped suddenly however, looking over her shoulder as her expression softened. "Thank you, lady Kara. I... can see why lady Ambrosia has become so close to you."

I joined her at the door, placing a gentle hand on her back. "That's what friends are for, Rosemary."

Back by the changing screens, X shook his head as Chase emerged, donning one of the suits from the wardrobe. "I ain't wearing one of those things."

"Forget it." Wind said, having also heard the commotion and going to see what was happening. He turned, shuffling away.

"Yoo hoo!" Brooks shouted. "Come on boys, let's speed it up!"

"I do not wish to participate in wearing one of these outfits as it could prevent my me from adequately ensuring the King's safety." Onyx said.

"Can I just wear nothing instead?" Unknown grinned.

"Goodness, no!" Viktor cried. "Arsenik, did I adjust this correctly?"

"You look fine, Viktor." The elder Hulder replied.

"Ooh, you look so sexy!" Bo complimented Barium, tracing a finger underneath his chin.

"You look lovely yourself, my pretty ruby." He replied, chuckling.

"Ugh, they make me want to vomit." Wildfire rolled her eyes.

"Come on Wildfire, it is kinda cute." Brooks chimed in.

Night appeared then, adjusting his collar. Jasmine took notice. "Sir Night, allow me..." She reached up, her fingers working the kinks oit of his collar as she smoothed it out. Her throat felt drier by the second before taking a step back. "Th- There."

"Thanks." Night gave her a nod. "You look nice. Purple's a good color on you."

"Thank you." She replied, her spine rigid. "You... look quite... h- handsome yourself."

Night chuckled once. "It is an interesting outfit."

"Indeed." She clasped her hands together for a moment before tucking her hair behind her ear. She hoped there weren't any strands out of place. Ambrosia watched silently, not pleased in the slightest.

Rosemary and I returned then, the others turning to acknowledge us. Barium took a step forward.

"Hello there." He smiled as he greeted me.

"Hey, Barium." I nodded.

"Well, aren't you a sight for sore eyes." He said as his hand brushed against mine.

Chase took note of this, snapping to attention. "Hey Kara!" He came between the pair of us. "You look great!"

"Uh... thank you both." I motioned to Rosemary then.

"Well I think you look positively handsome, sir Viktor." Rosemary complimented the Hulder. "Don't you think I look nice too?"

I smiled nervously. "Ah, yes, miss Rosemary... you look quite... lovely." He glanced at Arsenik for a moment, who gave him a look as he spoke with Ambrosia.

"Excuse me..." I said when I saw Arsenik, making my way over to them.

"I think you look nice, Rosemary." Chase said, getting her attention.

"Of course I look nice!" She paused then. "I- I mean... you look nice too, I suppose."

"Thanks!" Chase smiled. He noticed I had gone over toward Ambrosia and Arsenik. He figured that I wanted to talk to her, being we were close friends. No one should trust that Hulder, he thought to himself.

"Ah, lady Kara." Ambrosia smiled when I joined them. "Thank you for taking care of my dear cousin. She seems far better now."

"It's all good." I nodded. I looked at Arsenik then, my heart skipping a beat. "Hey. You... look really handsome."

Arsenik chuckled bashfully. "I appreciate that sentiment, miss Kara. You appear rather lovely yourself. Blue suits you."

"Thanks." I could feel heat rising to my face again.

Wildfire nudged Brooks. "Alright, I'm over this. Let's go."

"Whatever you say!" Brooks shrugged. The pair were halfway out of the room as they began to shrug the dresses off.

"Oh my- my eyes!!!" Viktor screamed, slapping a hand over the top half of his face. "Have you no decency?!"

As the pair were heard cackling down the hallway, Unknown's laughter soon followed. "If you're starting a trend, I think I'd like to follow it, ladies... kyahaha!"

I rolled my eyes. "Please remind me again why I brought him on this trip again?"

"Because you're considerate, lady Kara." Ambrosia answered.

"I think it would be more considerate of me to NOT invite him in the future." I said.

The present group continued to socialize, enjoying wearing the outfits and conversing in them. It made for a lighter atmosphere than the prior day, bettering almost everyone's moods. I was enveloped in it, and for a little while, I forgot all the dread I had been feeling and the ominous manifestations the house had been offering.

---

That night, I sighed contently as I settled into bed. Ambrosia settled into her own, looking over at me and smiling.

"It seems you had a decent day today, lady Kara. I'm glad." She commented.

"Yeah... it was good." I opened the drawer, taking out the book I had been reading. "Even though he seemed pretty interested in you... I had a nice conversation with Arsenik."

"Was he?" Ambrosia asked. "You know... the King seemed to have had his eye on you quite a bit."

"Uh..." I chuckled nervously. "I, uh... noticed that too."

"The King is a kind man. I know you wouldn't fancy the idea of joining his harem... but perhaps something more could come of his advances."

"Like what? Ambrosia, he practically throws expensive items away to his women. I'm not looking to bleed the man dry. It's not my style."

"That's precisely the reason you would be a good woman for him. You would treasure his heart more than the treasure in his hands."

"I mean... there is a lot I like about Barium. Harem aside... I could see myself falling for him. But..."

"Yes, lady Kara?"

"I-..." I shook my head.

"Do you fear the responsibility of being a queen?"

I snickered at that. "One, the last thing Virgo Islanders want is me being queen. I'm not even from Virgo Island. I'd probably start another war."

"Nonsense, lady Kara. You would make a fine queen."

"I appreciate the thought... but that's not the reason I can't be with him. I... there's just something about Arsenik. Something pulling at the root of my heartstrings. I can't put it into words."

"... You really love him, lady Kara."

I looked over at her. I then stared at the book in my lap. I couldn't bring myself to say anything as an illustration of a pair of lovers professing to one another stared back at me, silently mocking me. The love depicted in their eyes practically dripped off the page.

"I think I'm going to turn in for the night." I finally said.

"Very well, lady Kara. Sleep well."

"Goodnight, Ambrosia." I replied, shutting off the lamp.

---

Hours later, I slowly blinked my eyes open. It was past the middle of the night, and I sat up groggily as I rubbed my face. After a moment, I stopped.

She was staring back at me, her head upside down as she hovered parallel to the floor.

I gasped, my mind scrambling into alertness as I gripped the sheets. I muttered to myself that she couldn't hurt me, repeating it in a low chant as she floated closer, finally stopping inches from the bed. She then slowly moved to float upright, her hair wisping and floating about her.

"Ar-..."

Her mouth moved, her voice muffled as if it were underwater. My eyes were wide, inhaling quick, shallow breaths.

"What are you saying to me?" I choked out.

"Ar-... sen-..."

My mouth hung open. "What are you-... what do you want with him?"

"Ar-... senic-..."

"Mm... lady Kara...?" Ambrosia spoke groggily as she began to wake up.

I looked back at Katherine. Her mouth opened wide, showing the black void within as she lurched back through the air. As she went through the wall, right through the painting, a loud thud sounded. When it did, I screamed as one side of the painting fell, causing it to hang lopsidedly on the wall. Ambrosia jolted awake, stumbling a bit as she made her way over to me.

"Sh- She w- went..." I pointed at the painting. "Sh- She said his n- name..."

Ambrosia looked over to see the painting, before rising to her feet. To my horror, she went to the door, and I inhaled sharply as she opened it.

"It's alright, lady Kara. I'm just peeking out."

"N- No Ambrosia, close the door, d- don't-"

Ambrosia heard the sound of quick, light footsteps moving away from our bedroom. "Oh dear... it seems that someone played a prank on us, lady Kara."

"Please close the door." I said fearfully. I exhaled the breath I was holding when she did, going over to the painting. To her surprise, there was a small puddle of water just underneath it.

"Let me clean this up... and then I'll straighten this frame for you."

"Take it down."

"Hm?" Ambrosia tilted her head. "What was that you said, lady-"

"Ambrosia." I looked at her, my eyes still wide. "Take it down."

A pause. "If you insist, lady Kara." She took it off the wall, and I finally willed myself to get up, taking the painting from her and opening the closet. I faced it away from me before shutting the door, locking it. Ambrosia frowned. "Now, now. Let's get you back to sleep. I'll fetch you some water." Once she did this, she took a towel to clean up the water by the wall. She wondered who it was who snuck into the room to pull a prank on them... and why they did so at such a late hour.

To be continued...

#beautyandthewar #poisonappletales #beauty and the war x playing pieces #beauty and the war #donttakethisrisk #ambrosia #dont take this risk #arsenik #unknown #love #horror #drama #suspense #paranormal #ghost #victorian #fanficton