#more the former than the latter

[reginrokkr]

■ ■ ■ 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐋 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖𝐋𝐄𝐃𝐆𝐄.

𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐄𝐒: Long-living human. 𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍: ∅ 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐀𝐒: Clairvoyant. 𝐀𝐅𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍: Unknown. Irminsul?

■ ■ ■ 𝐈𝐍 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘...

𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐄𝐒: Long-living human with draconic traces. 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐀𝐒: Clairvoyant, saint. 𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒: Aether — Pneuma / Khvarena — as the most frequent use. Secondary uses of Cryo, Aero and Electro in combination with the former. 𝐀𝐅𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍: Dragon Sovereigns, Irminsul, Teyvat.

■ ■ ■ 𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐖.

Hsī's birth is the perfect example of taking place at the wrong place and at the wrong moment. When she was just an infant, her mother and the other people who were migrating as a means for survival from the onslaught of the Forbidden Knowledge's aftermath met their ends at the claws and fangs of the Abyss in Nantianmen. Her own survival a miracle in itself whose light would fade away soon thereafter, which it did. Nevertheless, her last cries were heard by Nibelung —who at that time took curiosity in humanity—, alas it was late.

With a touch lacking any intent, the Moonlit Tree under which Hsī has passed away illuminated and, as if listening to a tacit command from the real king of sovereigns of this world, it revitalized the infant thus bringing her back to life. As a result, Hsī's spiritual shape has been sealed from two sources besides her own as a human: one from the Moonlit Tree as one of Irminsul's extensions, another from Nibelung albeit more loosely.

This would cause Hsī's life to be unlike that of a normal human due to her extended lifespan —albeit not equivalent to immortality—. Given the connection established with Irminsul, she's able to glimpse into the past and the future as well as manipulate time (only on short term / minor things such as healing or altering time when endangered). And given Nibelung's merciful touch, she has access to elemental use from the Light Realm. The use of extensive powers, regardless of the source, cause the growth of crystalline horns on her head for a limited amount of time as well as that of iridescent scales littering her body.

As someone that counts with a bigger picture of the world's happenings, Hsī stands for the freedom of every creature to be masters of their fate.

[fvaleraye]

having an emotional support game and not being good at the emotional support game and being actively distressed about not being good at the emotional support game sure is a combination, huh

[ifellintothestyx]

The funny thing about JC defenders is that they always try to argue that JC refusing to cover the Wens and side with WWX was the correct political move. In the short term, perhaps, but in the long term, that was proven wrong in the books themselves.

(It's even funnier thinking that correct political moves exist in a bullshit political system that blatantly serves only the gentry, is held together by hearsay and rumors, and has no actual system of laws that can serve as a basis to accuse, judge, or punish someone.)

So how was JC's refusal to side with WWX and the Wens considered the "correct political move"? Reasons include that the Jiang sect was still recovering from the war, that going against the Jins would result in another war that would end in major losses on the Jiang sect's side, and that the Wens weren't and shouldn't have been a priority for JC at all.

Let's clear a few things up. The Jiang clan was not the only clan recovering, so were the Nies and the Lans. In the aftermath of the war, it's not explicitly stated how well the other sects were doing, so we couldn't really tell if the Jiangs were worse off than the other three. It could be noted, however, that the Jins retained much of their wealth and influence, so much so that Jin Guangyao was able to take the position of Chief Cultivator with little to no opposition. The main point, though, is that at that moment in the aftermath of the war, we could not easily assume the Jiangs were the worst off, as the other three sects also lost many disciples in the war, and we didn't really know how much the other sects recovered.

For the second reason, if a major war somehow did happen again, this time Jiangs vs everyone else, everyone else would lose. WWX's presence single-handedly helped them win the war against the Wens. A war between the Jiangs and the jianghu would be based on numbers, which reflects the war between the Wens and the jianghu. The Wens had more disciples, and no matter how many LWJs or NMJs you got up your sleeve, numbers make a big difference in war. That's why WWX's skills were a critical part in winning: he is a one-man army of thousands. He could easily make up for the gap in numbers. That's why the Jins kept trying to get rid of him—they were nervous about so much power belonging to only one faction: the Jiangs. JGS couldn't exactly claim his desired role as Chief Cultivator if a younger, smarter, and more powerful individual was still around to keep him in check.

Finally, we get to the part of why I'm making this long-ass post on a caffeine-driven rage. See, the point of trying to stop a powerful faction from committing atrocities is to stop them from thinking they can do it whenever they like. The Jins were given a pass to do whatever the hell they wanted to a small, outcasted faction (the Wens), and they proceeded to take that pass as a pass for everything else. Nobody stopped them from torturing the Wens, so what's stopping them from allowing a mass murderer like XY to run wild in an attempt to create their own WWX? Definitely not NMJ, hahaha, because, y'know, the hypocrites in the gentry have already decided that whatever the Jins do is alright so long as it's not their problem. An exterminated clan isn't their priority. So, what was stopping XY from going out and doing it again to SL's sect? Absolutely nothing! Because the Jins could cover it up and no one could say a word despite how suspicious it was, because hey, remember what happened to the last guy that spoke up against the Jins?

Calling out the Jins on their crimes against the Wens, who were elderly and children save for WQ and WN (who JC owed his damn life and core to), would have created a precedent of not allowing massive crimes to slide under the radar. But because the opposite happened, because nobody fucking realized that apathy and selfishness don't fucking help in the long run, two sects were exterminated because JGS and JGY were basically given an "okay, fine, just keep that bullshit away from us". That's not actual justice. That's not "morally grey". Allowing people in power to trample over others just because it doesn't affect you personally is not sustainable, because what happens when it's you they've decided to trample over? Are you going to complain? Are you going to look to others for help, when you personally couldn't be bothered to offer your hand to those who suffered? When the reason the people trampling over you gained that power is because you allowed it?

The unopposed killing of WWX and the Wens led to the political climate that allowed the massacres of two sects because the Jins were trying to protect and satisfy their pet project. It led to the murder of NMJ because JGS/JGY wanted to keep people from checking their power. If JC couldn't find it in his heart to be sympathetic to the Wens, fine, but at the very least, he should have considered the potential harm in rolling over and giving a political faction too much power.

[starterheart]

trying to figure out which is hotter… a dom teasing their sub for how drunk they are [see my other post] OR a dom convincing their sub that they’re still sober even when they’re obviously wasted: “oh you’re fineee, your tolerance is so high that you’re probably barely feeling it yet. let me look at you—no, you’re not slurring at all baby, you’ve just gotten started. trust me, you’d know if you were drunk. you’re just a little buzzed. let me help you with your glass—no, not because you need it, I just like to do things for you. there you go, baby. have another drink.”

[txttletale]

i think at least some of the semantic discourse about 'non-sexual kink' stems from a difference between viewing 'kink' as referring to an umbrella of predetermined activities assumed to have a sexual element by default, or as as a looser signifier that can be applied to any activity as long as it has a sexual element

[front-facing-pokemon]

[cabeswaterdrowned]

Something interesting is that Ronan doesn’t immediately connect the “Adam would hate this Gansey” to his description of the Gansey on fire he knows, the Gansey who contains every wild spark etc., just that it’s a Gansey who doesn’t tend to exist around Adam because Adam can be centering/soothing for Gansey as we see in TRB pre the ending (and wild and angry aren’t synonyms, so I think Ronan qualifies Gansey on fire as a different Gansey from the one brought out by fights with Adam too. then again a lot of Adansey’s most major fights are when no one else is around to witness so could also be some unreliability there..). It’s Gansey on this specific night and the way he is interacting with Kavinsky, that glacial laugh that is meant to portray superiority and not humor, the type that would unequivocally say he’s better than other people (not that Adam would have issue with saying Kavinsky is lesser than them he doesn’t give a fuck about Kavinsky. but he likes that normal Gansey thinks all human life has value later) is a side to Gansey that Ronan thinks Adam would hate: “But this was not Gansey as usual. This was Gansey with a lofty tilt to his chin, a condescending quirk to his mouth. A Gansey that was aware that no matter what went down here tonight, he would still go back to Monmouth Manufacturing and rule his particular corner of the world. This was a Gansey, Ronan realized, that Adam would hate. Gansey said, “And what is it my dog needs?” 

The Gansey that Adam would hate isn’t necessarily wild Gansey although there is definite overlap here / the wildness is what allows this Gansey to come forth, it’s arrogant to the point of being cruel Gansey. A Gansey who is simultaneously less in control / more destructive and actively is very comfortable having control over other people, in ruling, in being arrogant or superior, which it makes sense would bother Adam so much more than Ronan because of class dynamics and Adam’s control issues and fear of Gansey proving he shouldn’t care for / trust him by exerting control over him. This is a version of Gansey who could really easily hurt Adam (taking notes on this scene for my Gansey comes back wrong / no humanity Gansey fic idea).Also want to contrast this from how Adam reacts to a Gansey who is exuding confidence/power but is extremely controlled about it in the DC section, because there are things he really dislikes about that Gansey but he’s also quite enamored by him in a really unhealthy way, and it generally…. Is a Gansey that riles Adam up a lot in a few ways imo. But he definitely sees that Gansey sometimes and wishes for the control to break which is actually a bit similar to Ronan enjoying this less in control Gansey. So I do think Ronan is right that Adam’s reaction to this Gansey would include hate and he wouldn’t have the affinity for him Ronan does but I also think his reaction would be more complex than just negative.

[anglerflsh]

Conigli Rinascimentali etc etc

[rxttenfish]

merfolk in general are just. horrible horrible polyglots. their brains are already hardwired for language and quick language acquisition that remains active all their lives, further helped by retaining a high neural plasticity for their long lives, and especially enjoy complex language and language-based play and problem solving. but they also tend to have a lot of their society arranged where there's often multiple different languages at play within the same area, and only really stops being so once you get into especially small villages that have below the merfolk norm for outside contact. every merfolk alive today knows at least two languages, but most of them know far more than that, especially because one of those two will be the common-technical language. its been standardized and wide-scale implemented across the merkingdom after their dominance, to help bridge the gap between these different languages, basically as a successful version of esperanto. but its a trade language, and is mostly used for information you might want to reach as many people as possible, such as laws or business dealings or public announcements or the like. most merfolk don't view it as and don't treat it as a language proper, and its not what they prefer to converse in if they have another choice, usually finding it pretty limiting and restrictive, which is why its called common-technical.

miranda, being a royal who is regularly in contact with many different people around the merkingdom and regularly expected to be fully able to converse with them to do her job, knows just. so many languages. i might be changing exactly how many soon, but last time i counted it was in the low teens. like its just a perfect storm of her brain being wired for swift language acquisition and having a job that requires it and a position that means shes constantly around people from all around the merkingdom. not to mention having to know english too, which isn't just not her first language, it's not even her fourth language.

meanwhile, aaravi knows english and a little bit of hindi, less because of her mother and moreso because of her nana... its not that her mother never used it with her, but she was. less focused on using it or teaching aaravi, let's say. nana mishra uses it a lot more and is more interested in teaching aaravi when she asks her, especially in the intermittent period after her mom died and nana mishra was able to come back into her life to help aaravi pick up the pieces (though not after aaravi kind of. got left on her own. for an unfortunate amount of time). its just also fallen by the wayside with aaravi's whole Everything Else and kind of having a hard time accepting her nana's help and kind of being terrified of her (of no fault of her nana's, aaravi's just. she's just really traumatized after Everything, alright. having someone try to offer her help afterwards, especially when aaravi's scared of getting singled out as half human and half monster, is just. it's not something she can bring herself to trust.)

[writing-for-life]

Dream’s Therapist

Emotions

I have prepared for today’s session with going over previous notes. I decided to carefully delve deeper into the topic of the client’s own perceived emotional detachment that is so visibly not the case (he feels very clearly, even if he occasionally pretends he doesn’t. We have made some progress in last week’s session that I would like to build on).

The client is on time again (well, slightly early). When he comes into my office, the coat stays on this time. I don’t engage in small talk, as it seems his perceived preference.

DT: How has the thinking and journaling gone since last week? How have you been feeling over all?

Dream (He sits straight as an arrow and doesn’t look at me): I don't feel. I exist. Emotions are for mortals.

DT (I admit to myself that I am a tad disappointed. For him. I thought we were making progress, but it seems we are back to square one): I see. Have you been journaling, as suggested?

Dream (I notice a sigh I can only interpret as dejected): Yes. I did peruse the infernal book. “Dear Diary, a star died. It was mildly annoying.”

DT (I cannot help but think there is more to this than meets the eye and proceed with caution): I guess annoyance is a feeling?

Dream (I notice his stare is even more vacant than usual): I don't feel. The star had unresolved issues.

DT (I notice he projects and is trying to deflect at the same time): We are not talking about the star’s issues though, are we? We are talking about whatever has been going on with you, either over the past week or in general.

Dream: Not today. (The way he purses his lips is reminiscent of someone who has sucked on a lemon, and I get the feeling today’s session will be… difficult. I decide to change tack and revisit the topic dreams and nightmares since he opened, and lightened, up about them the last time.)

DT: Is there anything else you would rather talk about? Your nightmares? Your dreams?

Dream: I don't dream. I weave tapestries of existential dread.

DT (It’s really going backwards now): And what do these tapestries tell you?

Dream (I notice he crosses one leg over the other and leans back in his chair. Not without also crossing his arms in front of his chest): That my thread count is impeccable.

DT (I notice extreme defensiveness and decide on a different course of action): Are you open to trying an exercise?

Dream (I notice the eye-roll): If I must.

DT: There are no “musts” in here. You either decide to give it a shot or you don’t.

Dream (And there is the exhale through his nose): Fine.

DT: Okay. I’d like you to get comfortable in your chair…

Dream (I notice he moves around on his sitbones a bit): Your chairs are not very conducive to comfort.

DT (The chairs are actually very comfortable. He just decided they’re not comfortable for him because he doesn’t want them to be): Get as comfortable as possible then. (I notice some further shuffling, and when he finally settles, his legs are not crossed anymore. His arms, however, stay firmly crossed in front of his chest). If it’s comfortable for you, close your eyes.

Dream: What if it is not?

DT: In that case, keep them open. (I notice he keeps on staring at me, so I decide to just proceed): I’d like you to bring up a kitten playing with a ball of yarn in your mind.

Dream (He actually snorts. I am briefly confused at the unexpected display of amusement. He blinks slowly.): Really?

DT (I mirror his blink): Really.

Dream (He unexpectedly closes his eyes. A brief silence ensues): I can see it. The kitten's existential crisis is palpable.

DT: What else do you sense or feel?

Dream (I notice he opens his eyes and just stares at me. Again…) I feel nothing. Perhaps the kitten should consider therapy, not I.

DT (I decide to call things by their name): What do you think makes you avoid being vulnerable? Around anyone, but specifically around me? (He looks at the paperweight on my desk. I ignore it. The silence lasts for three minutes.) You don’t have to be here if you prefer not to, but you are taking these sessions for a reason. Can you verbalise that reason for me again? (I notice he mumbles something indistinguishable while looking at his boots.) Pardon?

Dream (He looks out the window, clearly avoiding eye-contact, and raises his voice ever so slightly.) I feel uninspired.

DT (I withstand the temptation to point out that he just admitted he feels): And would you like any type of support with feeling more inspired again, or do you think you will be able to solve the issue yourself?

Dream (He looks at me again. Barely. With a dipped chin and through his lashes.): I might appreciate your… expertise.

DT: The delusional one?

Dream (I notice he smiles. A small smile, but it is the first one that is clearly identifiable as such): That, too.

DT: Okay, then let’s keep going and dig a bit deeper. Without deflection and changing the topic—do you think you can do that?

Dream (I notice the smile disappears): I might try.

DT (I nod towards the paperweight): Can you try to pick it up? (He picks it up hesitantly.) No, I said, “Can you try to pick it up.” (He puts it down again and looks confused.) Try again. (He lifts it once more and holds on to it this time.) So did you try, or did you pick it up?

Dream (I notice his eyebrows are knotted so tightly I start to feel sorry for him.): I picked it up?

DT: Right. There is doing or not doing. There is no “trying”. You do something, or you don’t. You trust me or you don’t. Both is fine. You do it, or you don’t. You stop to deflect to get out of discomfort, or you don’t. You pick up the paperweight, or you don’t. It’s always your choice, but it’s a choice you make.

Dream (I notice he stares at me, then the paperweight): I… chose to pick up the weight, and I shall hold on to it for a while.

DT: Good. Let's keep going then. Tell me about your relationships.

Dream (I notice his eyes darting at me quicker than the speed of light. I also notice the paperweight moves in his hands. The silence lasts for seven minutes. He holds on to the paperweight very tightly for a moment and then begins to speak): I had relationships of a romantic nature. To hold on to them has proven to be impossible.

DT: Any idea as to why?

Dream (I notice his voice is very quiet): Because my… feelings (he looks at me briefly before he turns his attention to the paperweight again) are complicated, and they tend to scatter like cosmic dust.

DT: I’ve noticed you like to speak in metaphor…

Dream: As do you.

DT: Do I?

Dream: Sometimes.

DT: And does speaking like that, or being spoken to that way, make things easier for you?

Dream: Yes and no.

DT: Explain the no.

Dream: Perhaps I… would appreciate a more direct approach. But it makes me uncomfortable nonetheless.

DT: Discomfort isn’t always a bad thing. If you stay comfortable all the time, nothing changes.

Dream (I notice a sound not unlike a wince): I do not change.

DT: I am aware I asked this before, but why are you here then?

Dream (I notice he turns the paperweight in his hands): Because I feel like the kitten.

DT (I need a hot second to remember): You feel you have an existential crisis?

Dream (He stays quiet for seven minutes again. I wonder if he is actually counting seconds in his head): I might have diversified into a certain sense of ennui. (I notice he smiles briefly, but it actually looks weary.)

DT: Any idea as to why that is? Or what might provide relief? (I notice he stares intently at the paperweight again) Why the paperweight?

Dream (He reflexively puts it back on my desk): It reminds me of things.

DT: Good memories or bad?

Dream: Perhaps both (I notice his eyes disengage, and he vacantly stares out the window again.)

DT: Is it something you wish to talk about?

Dream (He looks at me again): I trust our time is up?

DT: No. But if you feel the need to leave, that’s okay. I’d just like to encourage you to think about whether your ennui is as practised as your avoidance.

Dream (He gets up and looks down at me in a fairly disgruntled way): Perhaps you might reflect whether your persistence is annoying.

DT: Well, you’re not paying me to humour you, are you?

Dream (I notice he seems to think for a second, and inexplicably, his face lightens up. If that’s possible at all, because his expressions hover on the micro-spectrum): Perhaps you do humour me. (I wonder if he is actually smiling again or just looks mildly pissed off.)

DT: I suggest I might be the wrong person if you are looking for entertainment. But if you are committed enough to this, I will use ink in my diary again and see you next week. Same time.

Dream (I notice he definitely smiles this time): If the universe doesn't implode by then. (The smile vanishes as quickly as it has appeared, and I am left mildly concerned he might actually believe that’s a possibility.)

After he has left, I begin to write down further notes. Something catches my eye. It looks like sparkly dust suspended in mid-air. I have a lot of questions…

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[beaft]

bitchy post sequel: i have seen a lot of aces being like "i talk a lot about sex to push back against people who think my asexuality isn't valid" and while i do have sympathy with that, i think it's really an issue of competing needs - specifically, your need to feel Valid™️ vs my need to not feel like the prudish odd one out in a group of other asexual people

[sweetpapercroissant]

“dean winchester is a misogynist because he lies to women to get them to sleep with him and therefore clearly doesn’t respect them”

then you actually watch the show and every time dean sleeps with a woman he’s soft and there’s a gentleness even in his passion and he always makes sure his partner’s satisfied/comfortable and he does form genuine connections with the women he sleeps with even if he lies about his name and job (which is completely understandable and actually the sane thing to do considering most of america knows him as a serial killer and there’s not a lot of people around who’d bother talking to a guy who claims he hunts monsters for a living) (or for fun ig since there’s not a lot of ‘living’ in this profession) and he spends time getting to know them and offers the little bits of himself that he can and most of the time that dean has sex with a woman he sleeps over and they see him off in the morning with a goodbye kiss and genuine affection for him and if they ever run into him again they’re clearly fond and look back on their shared memories with satisfaction if nothing else and. this is the guy who doesn’t respect women? how? by believing they are adults who can want and enjoy a night of sex with no strings attached (something he’s always straightforward about btw)?? and more importantly it’s always consensual and they like him as a person and they’re clearly both enthusiastic about it (in fact there’s actually instances where dean isn’t completely enthusiastic but never the other way around).

also any time he’s been in a serious relationship where he was going to be a part of the other person’s life he tells them the whole truth, about hunting and monsters and his role in it and what being with him would entail. so i’d say he respects women just fine but maybe you need to seriously evaluate why you feel having casual sex with women is inherently disrespectful of them.

not to mention that the sex does mean something to him. even if he didn’t it wouldn’t be “wrong” or “misogynistic” to want to have sex with a woman without a relationship BUT. the sex does mean something to him. because he craves intimacy and human contact and affection and being liked and wanted and so often when he’s going through something he’ll open up to these women (jaime, anna) and they’re willing to listen to him without judgment and they’re gentle with him, with his grief, his trauma and the sex is a way for him to connect on a deeper level with them and it helps him and he’s spent almost his entire life isolated from society and can’t form long lasting relationships for much of his childhood and youth but he actually cares about them as human beings and he feels affection for them and it fulfills his desire for tenderness that he can’t expect from anyone else. and there’s nothing wrong with any of that.

[muninnhuginn]

yasaka (miss psychological warfare) being entirely bamboozled by mitsumi working at face value is pretty amusing ngl

[voluntaryvictim]

fighting for my life online as a fob and mcr fan right now

[dreamalittledreamofcopia]

blessed the latter part

papa iv/copia x reader

You could watch the snow falling outside where you sat in the library. Your table and chair was tucked away, in a corner by a window, hidden by a few catacombs and bookshelves. This was your favorite spot to sit quietly and be away from the hustle and bustle of life in the abbey, and days where you received your favorite visitor here were all the more special.

You weren’t expecting Copia to come find you today, however. His pillow talk the previous night had consisted of a few regrettable changes to plans for the week due to some meetings that were an ugly surprise from Sister Imperator. Copia’s break was ending, you feared what came next for your lover-in-secret. What started as a few flirty texts while he was away on tour as a cardinal turned into an on and off affair that had been on since Copia brought you on the first leg of the Imperatour. You didn’t want to tell anyone at the ministry about it, but the ghouls knew. The ghouls always knew, but aside from them, as far as you knew, it was secret.

He had also asked you to do some research for him, so like a good partner, you set aside a few hours to attempt to answer a few of his questions about the book of Job and his peculiar award. You could still see the adorable roll of his brows and the creases in his eyelids as he asked you why Job would name his daughter Eyeshadow in the candle light.

You were started, then, when you heard some familiar footfalls echo off the marble walls towards you. He stopped a few feet away from you, his shadow elongating across the snowy window, and cleared his throat timidly. It was one of your favorite Copia noises and you smiled warmly at the welcome sight of your lover.

“Your bangs are curly.”

You looked up to find him standing above you, his jacket off and cracked in his arms. His frame was hugged by his waistcoat, and the sight was intoxicating. You motioned for him to sit at the table — he obliged after some coaxing.

“Yeah-“ you cleared your throat and watched as he sat besides you, “I didn’t have time to straighten them this morning.”

Copia leaned over and gently tapped the end of his pen against your temple. When you giggled, he dragged it through the front part of your hair, a short curl springing out and framing your forehead. “They look so beautiful,” he hummed softly, his other hand moving towards the back of your head. You felt his fingertips pad against your scalp, someplace between a message and a scratch, sensational through your still damp roots. You had to fight your eyes from rolling back into your head and a moan slipping out of your lips, and your efforts only half worked.

“Papa…” you whispered, knowing you were the only two in this part of the library but still scared of someone finding you here like this. So scared of your secret romance finally being exposed. So scared of Imperator hearing you call him by his name and banishing you on the spot.

Copia, sensing your apprehension, just smiled at you calmly. He kept his hand behind your head but brought his over around your face, his fingers gently running over the little curlies around your eyes. “I like them like this, a lot. Very sweet, amore.” He leaned forward and placed a soft kiss above the tail of your eyebrow, his lips gently grazing over your bangs in the process. “My sweet love, dolce amore.”

Copia loved to whisper to you in public. Little words of affection and terms of endearment sent out only for you to receive, his love declared for you in the most visible of secret places. You knew you couldn’t keep this up forever, but you enjoyed the idea that you could and enjoyed that you were fooling everyone so terribly.

“I’m glad I get to see you today,” you whispered, subconsciously leaning into the touch you craved, “I thought I wouldn’t until dinner, if I was lucky.”

“Things are going smoother than anticipated,” Copia grinned, his papal paint slightly smudged around his lips from biting or pursing or the quick good-bye you snuck in this morning or the latte you snuck him later in the day, “I think the ghouls wanted to rush, for some reason.” He leaned forward and gently leaned his forehead against yours, “But I think I can guess. They’re very compassionate.”

You giggled at the thought of the ghouls cooperating just to get Copia back home to you, even if it was just for a fifteen minute break. “That’s so sweet.”

“Aurora told me your hair was cute today,” Copia mused, twirling one of your curled bangs around his fingers, “your hair is cute everyday but she was right about this one. I never get to see this.”

You tilted your chin up to meet Copia’s lips in a soft, delicate kiss, careful of the remaining paint around his lips. He hummed appreciatively, satisfaction coursing through his soul.

“I love you,” he whispered before reconnecting with you in another kiss.

“When will I see you next?” You whispered back, your breath fanning across his lips.

“Dinner, probably,” he said with a wistful sigh, “but I had to see you for some motivation. Tu mi dai la forza, angelo.”

“Mmm, that reminds me,” you said, a dopey smile on your face as you swam in his sweet scent and his sweet words, “I need another Italian lesson, Papa.”

“But you just had one last night,” Copia mused, tapping your chin lovingly, “I’m a busy Papa, you know. Can’t spend all my nights teaching you the language of love.”

That was a lie, or a half truth, perhaps — Copia would be a busy Papa because of you. He would be busy with you, devoting all his time to enjoying and loving and treasuring you. Copia didn’t plan to spend another night apart from you. He’d gladly give all of his nights to you, if you’d have them.

“I’m sure you can tweak your schedule to fit me in,” you pouted. Copia took the opportunity to press a kiss full and flush into your lips, papal makeup be damned.

“Then I’ll prepare a lesson,” he said softly as he stood back up.

“Oh, please don’t go,” you said, reaching up to take his hand in yours.

“mi dispiace, amore,” Copia replied as he laid his other hand on your face, cupping it gently. His thumb gently brushed your curly bangs out of your eyes. “I have to get back so we can end today before six.”

You nodded, turning your head to kiss the inside of his wrist, between the end of his glove and the beginning of his sleeve. “I understand but that doesn’t mean I like it.”

Copia laughed softly and nodded, leaning down to give you one last forehead kiss. “I know, I know. Find me some answers, okay? I trust you.” He stroked your face lovingly, his eyes staring down into yours and drinking you in before he gently patted your cheek. “I’ll see you soon, baby.” He said, almost mournfully as he went back to his meeting and he left you with his research, which would be filled with his name in hearts by the latter half of the hour, more than the former part.

[calamitydaze]

tbh “people hear about legitimate dream fuckups and it colors their worldview to exaggerate and misconstrue harm in everything he does” is just the opposite side of the coin to “fans hear about dream being legitimately fucked over and treated badly and it raises their defenses to react to every perceived slight like a personal betrayal” literally nobody is capable of being normal about that man