Chocoluna

Dear friends, our community is raising funds for a 1.5-month-old kitten. She has a severe spinal injury — her back legs are paralyzed, she has no sensation and can’t urinate on her own.

She’s currently undergoing rehabilitation, and there is hope for recovery — even partial improvement would give her a chance at a normal life. The first month of treatment (₸200,000) has already been paid for, and we’re now raising funds for the second month. Let’s help this little one get back on her paws!

We will provide a full report, and every tenge will go toward her treatment and recovery.

Here’s the card number for donations:

💳: 4400430283728100

Thank you all for your kindness and support! 🙏💗

art cr: @DaerwenYE

Remember to take your meds

Drink some water, or at the very least drink something.

The Batfamdom Every October

Been dabbling in Victorian literature again; I have a feeling in played a role in this one. Hope you enjoy~

“Do you really think so little of me?”

His tone was sharp, distressed; it was an accusation you couldn’t bear to face.

You couldn’t bring yourself to even look at him, casting your gaze back towards the cracked pocket doors, shadows from the parlor dancing along the walls of the secluded library.

Yet you knew that should you wish to clear the air between you, should you dare hope to force away this incessant, ridiculous longing, you must face him head-on, damn him with the same truth that had been tormenting you so relentlessly these past few weeks.

“I don’t know what to think of you anymore.“ 

You heard his intake of breath, the first whispers of a rebuttal, one you swiftly interrupted before it could fully take shape. "You once claimed you were above attachments, that such ‘frivolities’ are beneath you.”

Your eyes closed out of reflex, allying with a refreshing breath before you turned your attentions to him yet again, resolve burning within your core-

-all for it to be smothered again upon taking in his appearance, firm expression eclipsed by the naked vulnerability in his eyes.

You weakened at the sight, gasping quietly as your given name slipped almost silently past his lips.

It was too much, summoning the very emotions that you were trying so hard to be rid of.

You took a step back, then another.

He followed, slowly, each step in this broken dance made with cautionary hesitance, as if he were afraid you would run from him. But all things eventually come to an end, and there at last came a moment when you could step no further, one of the bookcases preventing your escape.

For want of fleeing that desperate gaze, to escape the eyes that were looking at you with the same reverence a desperate sailor casts upon a safe harbor, your hands pressed into the rosewood, silently wishing for it to fully consume you.

“What do you want from me?”

Your words were enough to give him pause, halting a mere few meters away.

His features shifted, clear considerations shining as he dismissed one explanation, then yet another and another. Finally, perhaps only a few heartbeats after you had first demanded his answer, he settled, lips twitching in the flicker of a pained expression before he spoke. "You’re right; I did once consider myself beyond such things.“

A small thrum of victory trilled within your veins, an air of superiority coating your own accusation. "So you admit it?”

His eyes narrowed, sharply angling to once more meet your own. While you were certain he possessed no magical capabilities, the fire in his gaze burned, sending a not unpleasant, hauntingly familiar ache through your veins.

“Yes,” he hissed at last, seemingly unaware of his effect on you, the indignation laced within his response doing little to spare your increasingly erratic heartbeat.

In a desperate attempt at retaliation, you latched onto whatever remnants of your prior haughtiness still remained, fleeting as it had become. You narrowed your eyes, dared to step forward and straighten your posture, meeting his challenge as candidly as circumstance could allow. "Tell me then: what made you change your mind?“

His silence was suffocating as ash, muffling the party just beyond the doors of what had been your sanctuary. It settled heavily between you, the unspoken conveying more than any words freely given could ever hope to say.

You sensed an ending, upon observing his reluctance, sensed a finality to the exchange which left you inexplicably disappointed. Resigned, overcome with an unfathomable bleakness, you bowed your head in acknowledgement. "Mr. Kirkland.”

You made to move past him, intent on rejoining the other guests, hoping there was yet still some chance to enjoy the rest of the evening, but- 

“You did.”

-a quiet admission had you firmly rooted to the spot.

The confession had fallen past his lips much like a prayer, cradled so tenderly and with such broken affection that you couldn’t help your gasp, felt silent relief that he couldn’t see the impact of his words likely painted across your face.

A deep breath- a second, a third- and you had restored your composure, turning back to face him. “Pardon?”

He still faced the bookcase, his posture relaxed, attentions elsewhere. But soon he was turning to face you, darkened gaze sweeping across your features before finally ensnaring your own.

You felt as if your defenses had been reduced to charred rubble, your whole soul now laid bare, the pieces exposed for him to do with as he pleased. A ridiculous notion, you reprimanded yourself. And yet, you couldn’t find it within you to fully ignore that sensation, equally enthralling and alarming.

“I’ve been alone, for so long,” he murmured, haltingly, the admission bearing with it the weight of centuries, as opposed to the mere handful of years to which he must be truly referring. His words were enough to give you leverage, to pull yourself firmly back to present circumstances, focus on the here and now.

“So long,” he continued, “that I accepted it as my fate, truly believed that I was doomed to never form any real attachment; I was never going to yearn for anything more than what had been given me.”

At that, he paused, once more surveying you, a fond warmth tempered by exasperation shining in his eyes. “Yet as you always seem so damned determined to do, you’ve challenged my convictions on that front, too.”

Your heart, which had nearly resumed its customary cadence, stuttered at his words. He couldn’t possibly mean that-

In a moment of weakness, decorum forgotten, his given name tumbled past your lips, unrestrained and befuddled. “Arthur, do you-”

“Again.”

Your brow furrowed at his interruption, breath catching as he took yet another step nearer. 

“Pardon,” you scarcely stuttered out, senses attuned to his steady approach, feeling half-drowned by the yearning in his gaze. You found yourself mourning the decision to abandon the bookcase’s support, suddenly uncertain of your own footing.

Finally, thankfully, he stopped, allowing you a little freedom, just enough to flee should you truly wish it.

Though, frankly, were you being completely sincere, all desire to do so had abandoned you ages ago, leaving only your curiosity and the tattered scraps of hope.

Surely, there was no way he-

“You asked me earlier what I want; do you still wish to know?”

Emerald eyes which always seemed to glisten with an inner fire had darkened to nearly black, pulling you even deeper into their depths. Entranced, you offered a nod of assent, unable and unwilling to put faith in your voice.

“I want you. I’ve wanted you for longer than I could hope to quantify. I-” He cut himself off with a derisive scoff, turning away for a moment before his attentions were once again on you, an angle to his gaze that pierced straight through your heart. 

“We come from very different worlds, you and I. I told myself to accept your companionship, your friendship. I had myself convinced that I could cope with that alone. But then-" 

His eyes narrowed, bitterness etching into his features. "I couldn’t bear to see you with another suitor. Couldn’t stand the thought of anyone else vying for your affections.”

Clarity gleamed with the radiance of a freshly polished looking glass, recognition burrowing itself deep into your thoughts. He was impassioned, and his deplorable behavior earlier this evening only heightened the credibility, yet you couldn’t resolve yourself to anything beyond incredulity, doubt casting a shadow on your fleeting sparks of hope.

“Arthur… What is it you want?”

You could feign being ignorant of your hand coming to rest on his arm, could feign obliviousness at having drawn near enough to see the sheen of dim light against the collar of his dinner jacket, and you could likely feign innocence in how you could now decipher the delicate detailing of his buttons. 

But you couldn’t feign naiveté at the way his eyes widened at the movement, at the awareness that this witchery had dragged you both under its spell, that your hopes were not unfounded after all.

His eyes found yours once more, all awareness of the world beyond falling away. At last, at long last, you saw that smile that you had come to adore, lighthearted and whimsical and always tentatively hopeful.

This was more the man you knew, more the man you had come to care for and cherish most out of all your companions.

“As incomprehensible as this may sound-” He cut himself off for a moment, his eyes studying yours carefully, searching for an answer you were eager to give. 

You could only pray your actions had made your wishes clear, still uncertain of your voice. Perhaps he found something in your expression, as soon enough his smile was growing ever brighter, his words continuing in barely a whisper.

“I want to spend Eternity with you.”