#my diaries [aether]

[elizabethaethertownusa]

Diary excerpt. I wasn’t being poetic I was really describing what I had been up to alone in a room looking through a window at the night coming up. Talking emphatically, with CPR rhythm

[apollo-zero-one]

Hey squad I just spent literally 3 hours writing out a post and when I finally hit send Tumblr said "Whoops! Try again?" And did Not save it as a draft, so, um, I'm just going to go to bed now.

[i-eat-cars-and-berriesss]

Am I in love with a green stoner wolf who told me to go on a diet? Yes.

[napoftustar]

not my planner matching with deja vu studio choom thumbnail.. heh

[chuusheartattck]

HAUNTED

Chapter 7: Wtf??

You didn’t want to open the journal by yourself. Even with Lumine there with you. What if it opens pandora’s box and you unlock a 1000 year curse? You don’t know what it contains. Sure Charlotte said she found Albedo’s mom’s old vintage journal, but that doesn’t mean this is the same one.

However, curiosity always kills the cat and you decided to be the cat for the day. You weren’t going to do it alone. That’s why all twelve of you are cramped inside the dorm room again!

“What if we sold this shit on depop for $150 because it’s vintage?” Heizou mentioned jokingly. He was sprawled out on your bed acting like he owned the place.

“Who would buy a used diary?” Xiao raised his eyebrow.

“You wouldn’t be surprised on the shit people sell there,” Began Hu Tao. “I once saw someone selling TXT cereal.”

“Okay but did you buy it?” Heizou asked.

“No? Who would?” Hu Tao replied in a judgmental tone.

“The same people who would buy Taylor Swift concert confetti.” Heizou retorted.

“Enough with this stupid conversation,” Scara interrupted. “Are we going to open this dumb book or not?” He looked over at you.

You had the book on the ground in front of you. In any other context this would be a dumb thing to be nervous about. However you did find it in a secret library room after your friend got kidnapped. You didn’t know what would happen.

You slowly picked up the book from the ground and started examining the outside. It was made out of a faux tan leather. At least no cow died for this book. The outside had nothing strange besides a butterfly charm in the front.

Slowly you started unraveling the string around it.

“Imagine we came all this way for it to be blank inside,” Aether chuckled.

Lumine quickly elbowed his side which earned her an ‘ow’ from him.

You opened the journal, the cover crinkling due to its old age. The front page had the words ‘Property of Rhinedottir’ in small black cursive.

It is his mom’s journal.

The page was an off white almost yellow color, most likely due to it not being opened for so long. It must’ve been at least 20 years since someone has found this book. You carefully turned the page, afraid the fragile paper was going to rip.

The page started off as an entry. You started reading out loud.

September 1st,

First day of being accepted into Teyvat University! Not only is it the most prestigious schools but there’s been some hush rumors about it. Why is it so well loved? How come only a few are accepted each year? I’ve decided to start logging in everything I learn. Maybe one day I can write a tell all book about my experience.

You finished reading the small passage and looked up at everyone. They were staring back at you, wanting you to read more.

You turned to the next page and read the second entry out loud.

September 8th,

It has been a week and strange things have been occurring. It’s fall but it shouldn’t be this cold in the hallways or in the dorms, right? I swear every time I’m in my room I have to bundle up because of how freezing it gets. You’d think this school would invest in some heaters. Not to mention the random gusts of winds in the hallways. Every time I bring it up to a professor, they simply brush it off and say it’s from a window. All the windows are closed in the hallways. The other day I heard someone call my name but there wasn’t anyone around! Maybe I’m going crazy…

September 9th,

It feels like I’m being watched. There’s eyes in the forest behind the school.

You were about to continue onto the next entry when Yanfei’s voice cut in before yours, “Okay this is getting creepy.” She’s known to give logical reasonings. This time was different.

“Yeah, I don’t believe in this sort of stuff but the eyes in the forest gave me chills,” Heizou commented.

Scara scoffed, “Looks like she needs to be admitted into a hospital.” You all stared at him giving him a look that almost said ‘really.’

“Or maybe there’s some truth to her words,” He muttered.

You didn’t feel like reading all the entries, mostly because you had class in twenty minutes. Instead, you skimmed through the pages. Most of them were entries but a lot of them had rituals and facts about the ghosts in the school.

Later on, Rhinedottir realized there was more to this school than what she initially believed. She jotted down everything she knew and had rituals that summoned different entities. There’s specific rooms in the school that is best for all this. Granted, none of them were evil demons but they were for wisdom, wealth, beauty, etc.

Just because beings that lay within the school aren’t inherently evil, doesn’t mean they’re good either. There are some that are mischievous and will purposely ruin your plans. Even almost make you get in trouble. There are others that will purposely scare you. Give you nightmares, but won’t cause you physical harm or downright possess you.

You flipped some pages to find drawings of some of the school ghosts. One of them was the little girl Charlotte told you about, Qiqi. If you play with her then she gives you helpful herbs.

“You think she can give me weed?” Aether’s voice cut you off.

“Dude a ghost plug sounds so cool!” Cyno high fived him.

Yanfei and Xiao facepalmed while Lumine sighed at their antics.

“You guys are insufferable,” Navia mumbled.

You continued skimming through the pages. Rhinedottir learned a lot about the history of the school.

Teyvat University was founded by the Chlothar Alberich. He comes from an old money family that has a lot of connections to various people. All of what was written was public knowledge until you continued reading. Apparently, there has been reports about shady business practices. When the school was first founded, there had been deaths that were covered up. In order for Teyvat University to be successful, they created a secret organization called the Abyss Order. They were the ones doing shady business practices.

Rhinedottir found this out by going through the secret rooms underneath the school and digging deep within them. She mentioned how dangerous it was and how closer she was to getting caught each time. It’s not like it mattered to her, what mattered was her getting to the truth. No matter how close she was, it wasn’t ever good enough. There was always something preventing her from trying to find out the full story.

One day, she was planning on going into the dean’s office. She never wrote again and seemed to vanish completely.

“Wait so that’s it?” Xiangling questioned, intrigued by everything.

“Well no, there’s definitely more details but for times sake we can look at that another day,” You said as you closed the book.

“Damn that’s a lot to take in,” Heizou laid back, staring at the ceiling.

“Did she mention what shady business practices there were?” Navia tilted her head.

You shook your head looking at her, “I don’t think she ever found out. I think that was one of her goals though.”

Heizou got up from your bed and started pacing around the room. He was too deep in his thoughts to say what he was doing. You all just let him do this thing.

“What kind of dumbass name is the Abyss Order?” Lumine spoke up.

Aether laughed, “It sounds like they’re trying too hard to be edgy. Or become a dollar tree Illuminati.”

“What should we do now?” Kazuha’s soft voice chimed in.

You pondered for a moment before replying, “Hmm I’m not sure. This could help us with our investigation but I’m not sure where to start.”

That’s when Heizou gasped and immediately went to the whiteboard you and Lumine shared. He erased what was previously on it and began brainstorming his thoughts.

“Holy fuck holy fuck I figured it out!” Heizou kept repeating.

���What the hell did you figure out?” Scara looked at Heizou like he was crazy.

Heizou didn’t respond but instead kept writing. To be honest it looked like a throw up of words. Nothing made sense and you weren’t going to attempt to figure it out.

After he was done, he turned around with a spark in his eyes. It looked like he solved the biggest unsolved mystery ever.

“While Y/n was reading the history, the name Alberich sounded familiar. I had no idea why. That’s when I realized that a descendant from the family goes here. His name is Kaeya. I met him during orientation because he was trying to recruit people for the frat he’s in. I think there was another guy there? Some ginger guy I forgot his name,” Heizou rambled on, “But anyways! Maybe that Kaeya guy knows something. I mean he’s here because his family quite literally founded the school. He’s the nepo baby final boss.”

After Heizou finished his coke rant, you all stared at him in disbelief. Not that what he said was untrue but because he has never been this excited about anything before. He’s truly in his element.

“Wait I think I know that little ginger bitch!” Lumine finally said. “I think his name is Tartaglia? But I think his friends call him Childe. He’s in my business class and he’s a bit obnoxious. He’s always talking about the frat he’s in.”

“You should try getting close with him. In order to get close with Kaeya,” Hu Tao suggested.

“I don’t want my sister to start being associated with a weird frat guy,” Aether huffed.

“Don’t worry I’ll be fine! Plus I can get us all invited to parties. Just because we’re doing all this doesn’t mean we can’t have a normal college experience,” Lumine smiled.

Except it wasn’t ever going to be a normal college experience. You’re all willing to risk everything just to save someone and possibly shut down the school. The stakes are high.

“I know this is off topic but did Albedo’s mom…you know…ever mention him?” Cyno asked.

“I think I saw something mentioning his name. Let me look again,” You said as you opened the notebook again.

September 13th,

My beautiful baby boy is born. His skin is pale like chalk and I know he’s going to have a bright future ahead of him. I think the name Albedo will suit him the most. He’s my pride and joy.

“So who wants to get close with her beautiful baby boy?” Kazuha looked around.

Everyone stayed silent. Nobody knew anything about him besides the gossip of him being a hot loner boy.

“I think Y/n should,” Xiao spoke up. “They’re good at making friends.”

Lumine looked at your direction to give you a subtle wink. You wanted to shut her up so bad.

“I mean I could try,” You hesitated. “But I don’t think it’ll be easy.”

You all agreed that your plan should start first with the offsprings. It should be simple and subtle enough to not gain attention of any administration.

You then looked at your phone and realized you and Scara were 15 minutes late to your class. You quickly grabbed your things, said your goodbyes, and dragged him out of the room. As you ran out, you swear you saw the same person from the night before in the library. You turned and she wasn’t there. You must be freaking yourself out from all this mess.

Masterlist II Previous II Next

A/N: New chapter!! I can’t wait to spill more lore and clues as the story progresses! I hope you guys like it so far 😭

Synopsis: Friends start their first year at Teyvat University. The school that is known for its paranormal activity. The group doesn’t truly believe the rumors until they start to experience how frightening the school can be. What happens when the friend group investigates the truth of the hauntings?

Taglist: @morgyyyyyyy @state-of-grac3 @trulyylee @jellichuu @practicoi @yuminako @eyshamuun @kunikuzushis-darling @heartsforni-ki @lalalaloveallmydays @animeobsessed56 @samyayaya @lloovvv @adepticiaoo @cherrysnows @miisamores @strayharmony943 @xionri @kazumiku @bethleeham @sukisprettyface @jayzioxx @kaikaidenkai @js-a-silly-little-guy @jiminscarmex @i-am-me-and-you @crimxeorcremeexistspeacefully @brideofbriar @floweringanna @miy-svz @vitanye @kunislettrs

[razorblade180]

Genshin Polycule Things

Aether:Zzzz

Amber:*big spoon*Zzzz

xxxxx

Aether:But what if it isn’t pure all the way through?

Xiao:Just skim the top layer of snow. A little dirt is no worse than karma-

Keqing:*carrying Ganyu* She fell asleep on the trip…

Xiao:*takes Ganyu* You could’ve said my name.

Keqing:I have that right?

Xiao:You’re with my partner and closest friend. It’s not an issue.

Keqing:Ah… I wish I knew that. Aether, legs….

Aether:*picks her up*

Keqing:Thank you.

Aether:Does that curtesy extend to all my partners?

Xiao:*grumbles* I will think about it.

xxxxx

Aether:*walks in*

Scara:Well if isn’t the resident bicycle.

Aether:….*tears up* The what?

Scara:!? It was a joke! Relax!

Mona:*closes book* Scara…

Scara:Relax!!!! Aether, insult me back!

xxxxx

Yanfei:Madam Ping! I need your advice! Can you read this for me and tell me what you think?

Ping:….This is just a letter from the Traveler asking how you’ve been.

Yanfei:Yeah, but he wrote “My dearest, Yanfei” instead of “My dearest Yanfei,” with the comma after my name! Was that intentional or a mistake!

Ping:….

Ping:Bless your heart.

Yanfei:Not helping!

xxxxx

Kamisato porch

Aether:*enjoying the scenery*

Ayaka:*leaning on him*

Ayato:*opens door* I’m back Ayaka. How are things?

Ayaka:*drinking tea at the table* Uneventful.

Ayato:Is that so? Hello Aether. Enjoying our garden?

Aether: *20 feet away* Yep! Thought I’d swing by and say hello.

Ayato:Hehe, so it seems.

xxxxx

Waiter: Your total will be 1000 mora.

Amber:Okay. That’s easy enough t-

Aether:*puts down 1000*

Eula:I’ll handle the tip. *gives 1001*

Aether and Amber:….

Eula:What? Did you think I’d allow myself to lose to you? We are both treating her.

Aether:Lose t- I paid the tab! I would’ve let you spend 600 while I gave 500 mora!

Eula:…These are the type conversations that should be discussed beforehand!

Amber:Frankly, I’m just happy you both agreed to this. *smiles* I like this quality time. *holds their hand*

Eula and Amber: *silently bashful*

xxxxx

Aether:Zzzz

Scaramouche:Zzzzz

Mona:*in the middle*….(Why do they insist on me in the middle when one of them will never to pee!!!)

xxxxx

Aether:*starting a fire*

Charlotte:*focuses lens*

Aether:Uh is this really picture worthy?

Charlotte:I’m just testing out my new zoom function.

Aether:So what, the focus is on my hands?

Charlotte:Uh huh. *zooms in on crop top*

xxxxx

Furina:*head on his lap* Aether?

Aether:*playing with her hair* What’s up?

Furina:Is this what healing feels like?

Aether:I’d like to think so. If not, then we’ll find another way.

Furina:Hmm *closes eyes* This is perfect.

xxxxxx

Tighnari:Welcome to the seminar on proper forest travel. Everyone, find a seat.

Aether:*sits on a chair*

Nilou:*sits in his lap*

Collei:*red* N-Nilou? I think there’s a few more chairs.

Nilou:I saw, but all Tighnari said was to find a seat. Someone else can have the chair.

Cyno:You make a compelling argument, but I’m that’s not what Tighnari-

Candace:*sits on Cyno’s lap*

Cyno:Please begin whenever you’re ready.

Tighnari:This is not what I meant when I said “bring a friend.”

xxxxxx

Aether:Do you ever wonder what Kokomi writes about in her diary?

Gorou:Not really. It’s her business.

Aether:Yeah, you’re right.

……

Aether and Gorou:(I can’t let him know she’s let me read the pages about him.)

xxxxx

Aether:Paimon, I’m going on a date. I already made your lunch and dinner.

Paimon:Tell Keqing hello for Paimon.

Aether:…How’d you know it was Keqing?

Paimon:You woke up ten minutes earlier than usual and got a head start on commissions. Now you’re leaving after chores and your braid redone.

Aether:….

Aether:Can you not watch me so keenly?

Paimon:Nope.

[sabookey]

There are two pieces of advice on first drafts that I constantly return to:

"The first draft is just you telling yourself the story." — Terry Pratchett

This was the first piece of writing advice that felt absolutely revolutionary to me on how I write. It's why this is my tag for first draft tips & encouragement.

I always really struggled with getting through a first draft. I'd come up with an idea, jot down some notes, write about three chapters and then get stuck. To this day, the first draft is always the hardest part to get through for me.

I know we hear the whole "the first draft doesn't have to be good" advice thrown around all the time, but I think a lot of people struggle to wrap their head around how to apply that, and this is where Pratchett's advice is so much more solid.

The first draft is just for you. No one else ever needs to look at it or even know it exists. It doesn't even need to have complete chapters or scenes or even sentences. Hell, I'm coming around to the idea that sometimes, the first draft doesn't even need to be much more than an outline. It's the underpainting, the pie crust, the foundation. Which brings me around to the second quote:

“I'm writing a first draft and reminding myself that I'm simply shoveling sand into a box so that later I can build castles.” ― Shannon Hale

This sounds flowery and again, I think that can be hard to translate into actionable things. But it's similar to what Pratchett said. What they mean is, no writer just spits out golden perfect sentences from nowhere. Good writing doesn't exist in the void, and good writers aren't just plucking sentences out of the aether fully-formed.

You can't revise a blank page. Blank pages are scary, and you need to just start throwing words at them.

Ever seen Princess Diaries? Remember the painting scene, where they're throwing darts to burst paint-filled balloons? Pretty quick that canvas is covered in splashy, messy colors. That's your first draft.

Throw words at the page. Who is there? What are they doing? What are they thinking or talking about? Start with just the dialogue if you need to.

Don't think about making good sentences, just tell yourself what happens. Take the bullet points from your outline and slap them in there if you need to.

Later, when it's time to work on the second draft, you can pass back over those scraps and vague collections of dialogue and feelings and hazy scenes. Nope, it's not pretty. But it exists. The basic shape of your story is there. The building materials, the sand, waiting in messy piles that you can run your fingers through. Add water, pick up your pail and trowel. Now you can start to give it more defined shape. It's easier when the page isn't blank, right? And later, you can come back with an armload of shells and pretty stones and decorate your new castle until it glitters.

[brighteyedbushybrowed]

okay I’m hoping this makes sense, the papa witht a s/o that is scared of sleeping, like sleeping makes them super anxious and it’s hard for them to sleep comfortably

It makes sense anon, dw!! I've been in that position before, so I will somewhat be writing from my own experience for these headcanons <3

𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐨

Primo gets this completely, and he's incredibly patient and kind

He makes you cups of herbal team to help calm your nerves

Will stay awake with you until you doze off

Stays by your side the whole time so that he's there for you if you wake up in a panic

He'll reassure you and try to help you rationalise anything that's playing on your mind and making you feel anxious

Primo also has a supply of the most comfortable pillows and blankets he keeps in a cupboard for whenever you wish to stay over in his room

If he's particularly worried about you and your lack of sleep, he'll suggest going to the doctor's or a therapist with you to help with your anxiety around sleep

Always has fresh lavender in his room as he knows it can be a very relaxing, calming scent that helps people sleep easier

𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐨

Also a tea man

As someone who could sleep through a hurricane, Secondo perhaps doesn't understand as much as Primo does

Don't get me wrong, he does understand. Just not to the extent that Primo does because of how heavy he sleeps and having never had difficulty sleeping at night

He does, of course, support you through it and has learned various grounding techniques for when your anxiety starts to spike at bedtime

He keeps a dossette box of sleeping pills in his en suite bathroom for nights where other methods of getting you to sleep don't work, but he only uses these as a last resort when literally nothing else works

Secondo will also stay awake with you until you drift off. He makes sure that he holds you the whole time, even if it results in him sleeping in waht others would consider uncomfortable positions such as sitting up against a headboard

While Primo is a lavender guy, Secondo is a scented candle guy

He gets a shit ton of scented candles of your favourite scents and will light them while you both do your bedtime routine so that you have a calming scent to focus on

𝐓𝐞𝐫𝐳𝐨

Terzo is the first person to tell you that you need to talk about your anxiety with a professional

He'll get you in touch with one of the therapists from the Ministry, he'll even pay for you to go to the best therapist in town if you'd prefer not to talk to someone who works in the abbey

He's going to be there with you all the way

He'll help you rationalise your anxious thoughts and worries surrounding going to sleep and even encourages you to keep a sleep diary

He might also encourage you to try and sleep by downloading Pokemon Sleep onto your phones so that it's like you're getting rewarded for sleeping

He's all cuddles and cooing and soothing words if you get upset at the prospect of sleeping

He's going to stay awake as long as possible even after you fall asleep in case you wake up in the night and need him to comfort you

He'll position you so that you're laying on top of him when you sleep, his arms wrapped around you protectively as he softly sings lullabies and songs to remind you that he's there, he's not going anywhere, and he loves you deeply

𝐂𝐨𝐩𝐢𝐚

You and Copia are kindred spirits in these regards

He's no stranger to fitful nights of tossing and turning, being too scared to fall asleep in case the nightmares return and haunt him once again

Talking you through your own anxiety around sleep is what makes him realise that he needs help too and that he can't be giving you all of this advice if he doesn't take it himself

Will attend therapy with you

Talks about his own experiences and anxiety and fears so that you don't feel like you're going through this on your own

On those nights where neither of you can sleep, he invites Aether for a sleepover so that he can use his quintessence powers to give you both a dreamless sleep for the night

Copia probably has a giant tub full of various herbal teas Primo has given him to help with sleep that he's never used until you came along

You both often have nighttime video game marathons on the nights where you can't sleep and don't want to bother Ather. You both end up waking the next morning with the game over screen flashing at you, game controllers abandoned on the blankets, and your bodies intertwined

[cattstarr]

I'm triple A: Asexual, Aromantic and Agender. I often just say I'm nonbinary though, cuz that's a mouthful. Only one person made me romantic for them and if you're new, he died. My story is fucking long but only know my truth. I'm not gonna beg anyone to acknowledge my identity. If you do, you're amazing and if you stick around, happily tell you my story. It's all have left.

Pronouns: they/them

Neopronouns: æth/aether (æthself/ætherself)

You don't have to use my neopronouns, but yes do use them. Mainly in my diary and stuff. I see mnyself as an "ethereal entity" I guess. Not godly or magical... But a species that lacks gender/sex. Which is where the pronouns come from. I spell it with "æ" (called the letter Ash) because my identity wouldn't be complete without being a pretentious asshole. And if you recognize this from a certain musical fandom lI'm tethered to, no you don't.

[elizabethaethertownusa]

From diary last night

When I try to write in a straightforward discursive way, making explicit all my travel points, I always seem to leave my own mind and reasoning almost immediately. Even here, when I am alone. I combine and recombine, with my real thoughts manipulatively concealed, apparent in flashes and only if you are looking.

It is because one of my fundamental beliefs, one of my concept-shaping beliefs, is that I cannot make myself understood. I am driven almost completely by my need to speak, and I am maybe to a crazy degree certain that I ought to be listened to, and I am also certain that by no means can I ever make myself understood or understandable.

I am only really honest when I am able to leave much of my process elided—as I am in fiction and poetry. I can be accurate there because my concern is almost never "how can I say this in a way which will be understood" and always "how can I say this as accurately as possible". It seems like maybe I need liberation from the effort to be understood in order to accurately describe my own thoughts. This seems, emotionally, to require that I leave steps out.

I don't think it is intrinsically required. And my need to be liberated from the anxiety I associate with making myself understood—my fundamental despair of being understood—is different from a need to leave reason, or accuracy, or coherence, or reality. My anxiety does not have to do with what is understandable or expressible: I am anxious that I will not be followed. When I begin, as soon as I begin, to make an effort to be followed, I begin to alter what I mean to say. Only when I move without any concern about whether or not I will be followed, as I move in fiction and poetry, do I write with any depth.

For me, for now, the emotional mechanism by which I access this confidence is elision. It might not be necessary forever. I think it is necessary aesthetically maybe. It is sacred for sure.

[shanieveh]

BACK TO DECEMBER — late night drinking buddies !

SCARAMOUCHE — the new kid everyone has mixed feeling about. he rarely talks to anyone not until childe adopted him and forced him to be in his friend group. he didn't know the school had you in it, and when he found out he will do everything for you to notice him again.

CHILDE — will probably already be suspended if not for his rich parents. childe is your average highschooler if not for the way he unsuccessfully causes havoc in the school. the guys hate him, but the girls, oh they write diaries and say incredible confessions in which he awkwardly avoids.

KAZUHA — sweet and gentle guy every single teacher likes. he goes about his day fixing everything and being very patient with anyone he comes across with. he creates ethereal poems, but don't let that fool you, once a drinking session is on course, he says the weirdest shit imaginable.

ALHAITHAM — he was here because he heard that they liked alcohol but now he becomes a tired sad dad of 7 children all of which had too many trauma injected in their bodies. although he is known for his boyfriend, a lot of people still crush on this dude, only to be met with kaveh's broom stick.

AETHER — he is literslly shipped with the whole campus, and even his sister's crush. he is very helpful in every single event but for some reason still not apart of the student council but he doesn't mind. he finds scaramouche annoying at first but they became very close after a while and now he knows the whole drama between you and him.

ALBEDO — the weirdest once you get to know him. scaramouche thought he was the cool guy who is smart and handsome, but boy was he wrong. albedo is a caffeine addict who talks too much about research and science, but they don't mind because he lets you copy off his paper.

CYNO — if this bitch can't shut up about his boyfriend, it isn't about his jokes anymore, it's about how he shows his family everytime he doesn't get what he wants, and even tighnari gets tired of it. but he really doesn't like you for what you did to scaramouche, especially when he sees the dude in tears in their third drinking session.

HEIZOU — he connected the dots, actually he didn't connect shit. typa guy you see with a magnifying glass but doesn't actually use it. he flirts with a lot of people, but hey atleast he asked scaramouche's permission when he flirted with you (scara chase him away)

BACK TO DECEMBER — masterpost || reading club

SUMMARY: you were childhood bestfriends with scaramouche, and with many unanswered confessions and one sided goodbyes, you both meet again, but now he wears a cold glance even turning agressive when his eyes wander yours, and it all came down the day he became the top of your class, beating you and rejoicing in success. his smile was because of your pain. maybe you could turn back time where promises actually never broke, and love was a beautiful thing.

TAGLIST: @yukiipc @wanderchive @user11918163805279 @gekkow @moon-320 @meowmeowmau @mine-lu @sunaaa @lxkeeeee @faaariiii-world @lazy-sanns @starlightaura @ynverse @ukinya @peachysunflowerOx @creammpuff @scarlightsworld @sakurapeach @sketcheeee @divinechicha @trasshy-artist @virette @kyouzki @redsrrrr @ahseya @1999mercury @slu7 @tatiratty @naheana

NOTES: i will fix this and deepen it after i get my laptop for my phone has an image limit thank you for understanding

[help-an-alter]

we have three alters who need help with their identities.

one is very cutesy, hyper femme egirl. she's been here for a little while. she wants things related to lovesick, gorey, and video game themes! she would like names, pronouns, and things she would enjoy.

the one is a bit confusing. they're not a human, they mimic humans. they don't talk often. they're very much connected to liminal horror. they want names and things to do. neutral names preferably.

the last one is connected to the umbrella academy. they're sourced specifically off of klaus and five. they want neutral or feminine names related to mystery, tarot, spirits, and time travel. they also want things to do, comforts, and pronouns.

Hello! I did my best with this one, and I hope it can help! However, I highly recommend googling the trigger warnings for the enjoyment recommendations. Particularly with the first alter, many of the things listed are either quite heavy, gorey, or just generally has potentially triggering content. Be safe and have a good day! :]

1

NAMES: love, aimee, cerise, cherry, cordelia, vevina, esme, carina, adora, amorette/amoretta, avila, carwen, amara/amora, cher, venus, kaira, evie, maisie, lottie, lacey, mimi, rose/rosie, rosanna, winnie, minnie, treasure, admire/admira, willow, veil, annette, ameri, aerith, mercy, mei, sora, techna, mochi, bunny, blossom, evangeline, eleanor, clementine, vivienne, juliet/juliette, nadine, arachne, ariadne, circe, calliope, ambrosine, narcissa, melancholia, grimoire, bite, minerva, miriam, mana, mania, crave, desire, passion, wrath, ophelia

PRONOUNS: ei/eir/eirself, love/loves/loveself, love/sick/lovesickself, heart/hearts/heartself, gut/guts/gutself, rot/rots/rotself, blood/bloods/bloodself, sla/slash/slashself, exe/exe/exeself, vi/vir/virself, vae/vaer/vaerself, do/dove/doveself, ro/roes/roeself, ro/tic/romanticself, cu/pid/cupidself, er/eros/eroself (alt. eris), cru/crush/crushself, stab/stabs/stabself, yan/dere/yandereself (can be done with any archetype), rip/rips/ripself, fle/flesh/fleshself, joy/stick/joystickself, ga/me/gameself (alt. gaming), gli/glitch/glitchself, vid/video/videoself, cli/click/clickself, pix/el/pixelself

THINGS TO ENJOY: doki doki literature club, yandere anime’s (mirai nikki/future diary, happy sugar life, etc), classic horror movies, just cutesy but darker anime’s in general (when they cry, made in abyss, higurashi no naku koro ni, etc), omori, one shot, yume nikki, irisu syndrome, you me and her: a love story (steams version has tons of removed content, but there are sites that provide the full game), katawa shoujo, danganronpa, pony island, school-live, fate/stay night, muv luv (the first is relatively normal, the second is where it gets interesting)

2

NAMES: scratch, scream, ghost, hyde, corner, ephemeral, mystic(al), surreal, dream, evanescent, kaleido/kaleidoscopic, cthonic, cthulhu, hypno(tic), eerie, vapor, vaporwave, anomic, dim, nocturne, null, veld, nim/nym, nox, quill, carbon, vale/veil, peregrine, sal, maris, lux, poet, cove, vesper, rook, elixer, glow, soul/sol, naren, endelian, viridian, aether, zenith, shrike, heath, crypt, hex, styx, dread, vex, howl, fable, hale, shade, vaughn

THINGS TO ENJOY: lots of roblox games (evade, doors, 3008, apeirophobia, etc), studying the backrooms, looking into architecture related to older buildings, found footage, lost media, the movie don’t worry darling, the movie skinamarink, short films on youtube, learning about folklore, exploring google maps, weirdcore tiktoks, weirdcore games, superliminal, mirrors edge, scp, stanley parable

3

NAMES: leto, haze, enigma, veil, rune/runa, mystique, wulfrun, calypso, calliope, raven, aradia, blair, sloane, genesis, maze, mazikeen, lilith, medea, elspeth, tamsin, lydia, shiloh, tatiana, lucina, anima, banshee, sybil, cerelia, neander, signe, evening, millennium, lustrum/lustram, sunday, mist(y), gloom, seraph, sera, shade, gargoyle, loom, moon, paige (page of ___), ace, empress

PRONOUNS: tar/aro/tarotself, arc/ana/arcanaself, maj/major/majorself, my/ster/mysteryself, haunt/haunts/hauntself, spi/rit/spiritself, ti/ime/timeself, clo/clocks/clockself, er/era/eraself, dec/ade/decadeself, year/years/yearself, hour/glass/hourglasself, ma/gic/magicself, mana/manas/manaself, gho/ghost/ghostself, sand/sands/sandself, thon/thons/thonself, card/cards/cardself, div/divs/divinityself (alt. divineself, divself), coin/coins/coinself, cup/cups/cupself, wand/wands/wandself, pent/acle/pentacleself, sword/swords/swordself, tar/taro/tarotself, ture/future/futureself, pas/past/pastself, ca/calen/calenderself, cen/centuryself, ve/ven/venself, a/ages/ageself, eni/enis/enigmaself, cry/crypt/cryself (alt. cryptic)

THINGS TO ENJOY / BRING COMFORT: practice several forms of divination (tarot, runes, bone throwing, even playlists can be divination, etc), look into witchcraft and/or paganism, watch time travel related media, explore a graveyard, respectfully clean gravestones, leave offerings to your ancestors (i recommend doing research into this first), create a way to show your identity (ie. bracelet, necklace, etc), cleanse yourself/your home, read mystery novels

divider by strangersgraphics-archive

[linkemon]

Voice line headcanons 2

Friendly reminder that English is not my first language. You can check my Masterlists both in English and Polish here.

Paimon and Aether demand information from you! Who is [Reader]?! Being discreet? Excuse me, Paimon is very discreet and will get to the truth!

Arataki Itto

✧ [Reader]? They're my greatest enemy. Did they arrest me? Don't be ridiculous. No one could capture the great Arataki Itto. Except for Kujo Sara... er... Huh? I didn't say anything. Of course it's about beetle fights. [Reader] can't beat me, so I still graciously agrees to let them try get back at me. Lie? Can those eyes lie, lavender melon? Hahaha! If you want, I can take you to them. It'll be the perfect excuse to see them... How do I look like? Give me a minute, I'll fix my hair and we can go!

Yelan

✧ Information has a price. What's yours like? Why the long faces... Of course I was joking. After what we've been through together in the mines, I'll answer your question. Remember when I mentioned once that I took the fur meant for Tsaritsa in exchange for the lost bracelet? Regrator, also known as Pantalone, participated in this operation. [Reader] works with him. It was under theirs care that the entire cargo was lost. As far as I know, they didn't die. They've been looking for information about me for some time. They're really persistent. Apparently the Harbinger business is keeping them away but I'm sure they'll be around sooner or later. If you want, I'll let you know when I see them.

Kujo Sara

✧ [Reader] is the best carpenter in Inazuma. They used to make furniture but eventually took up small handicrafts. Their works are masterful. I have many myself. I'm a little surprised the two of you are looking for them. Ah, are you looking for a figurine? That's the wrong word. Downright offensive. It is a lacquered sculpture of Her Majesty, the Mighty Narugami Ogosho, Goddess of Storms! How long is a name? Everyone here knows that respect is needed. You should be careful. There are serious consequences for offending our archon. I will not hesitate. Give you one when I have many? No way, especially after what Paimon said. And you'd better be nice to [Reader] or we'll talk differently...

Qiqi

✧ Hmmm... Qiqi doesn't remember at the moment... Qiqi will see the diary.... Nice person... Sometimes they come to the pharmacy when Qiqi sells medicine. I don't think they like Dr. Baizhu. They teach Qiqi to use a sword but Qiqi forgets that she can fight...

Shenhe

✧ [Reader]? I haven't seen  them for a long time. I wonder how they're doing. Time spent meditating flows differently. Especially in the mountains. It would be good to see them again. Oh, I got off topic, sorry. [Reader] is not an exorcist but they are very fond of learning more about how the spiritual part of this world works. They took some techniques from me. Of course, only the most secure ones. They even managed to talk to adepti, which is not given to everyone. They work as a ritual helper. You should ask Chongyun if you want to find them.

Kuki Shinobu

✧ And why exactly do you want to find them? Just don't tell me someone in the gang did something wrong again. We're friends, so I guess it won't hurt if I tell you. [Reader] is also part of our team. You probably haven't met them yet because they often work in the field. At least you don't have to clean up the mess after it. Itto told you we're a couple?! I can't with him! Always talks too much. Blush under the mask? You just imagined it for sure...

[dysfunctional-family-fight]

"All happy families are alike; each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way"—Leo Tolstoy

Behold, our 64 dysfunctional families!

Round One will start Monday, July 24, with 8 polls released a day. Polls will go on for a week.

Matchups below the cut!

The Batfamily (DCU) VS the Entrati Family (Warframe)

2. The Roys (Succession) VS The Todoroki family (My Hero Academia)

3. The Asanos (Assassination Classroom) VS the Aether family (Pokémon Sun & Moon)

4. The Mikaelsons (The Vampire Diaries / The Originals) VS the Bluths (Arrested Development)

5. Fire Nation Royal Family (Avatar: The Last Airbender) VS the Okiura family (AI: the Somnium Files)

6. The Wang family (Everything Everywhere All at Once) VS The Entire Pantheon of Greek Gods (Greek Mythology)

7. Loustat Family (Interview With The Vampire) VS the Schnees (RWBY)

8. The Samtheon (Friends at the Table - Seasons of Hieron) VS the Shijimas (Kamen Rider Drive)

9. The House of Finwë (The Silmarillion) VS the Preaker/Crellins (Sharp Objects)

10. The Crowders (Justified FX) VS the Falsettos family (Falsettos)

11. The Homunculi (Fullmetal Alchemist) VS the Chrobin family (Fire Emblem Awakening)

12. The Horsemans (Bojack Horseman) VS DGP Staff Family (Kamen Rider Geats)

13. Big Mom Family (One Piece) VS the Buendía Family (One Hundred Years of Solitude)

14. John and his lyctors (The Locked Tomb) VS Familia Madrigal (Encanto)

15. Agreste/Graham de Vanily/Fathom family (Miraculous Ladybug) VS the Wattersons (The Amazing World of Gumball)

16. House Greyjoy (A Song Of Ice And Fire) VS the Ushiromiya family (Umineko When They Cry)

17. The Hargreeves (Umbrella Academy) VS the Gemstones (The Righteous Gemstones)

18. The Winchesters (Supernatural) VS House Davar (Stormlight Archive/Cosmere)

19. The Gravity Brothers (Bungou Stray Dogs) VS King Arthur's Family (Arthurian mythology)

20. The Reynolds + Charlie + Mac (It's Always Sunny In Philadelphia) VS the Fowls (Artemis Fowl)

21. The Sohma Clan (Fruits Basket) VS Essun's family (The Broken Earth trilogy)

22. Clear Sky's family (Warrior Cats) VS the Strider-Lalondes (Homestuck)

23. Tachibana Sakuya + Kamijou Mutsuki (Kamen Rider Blade) VS the Minyards+Nicky (All For the Game/Foxhole Court)

24. The Mishima Clan (Tekken) VS the Donquixote family (One Piece)

25. The Fey family (Ace Attorney) VS the Klim family (Zero Escape)

26. Marika's Bloodline (Elden Ring) VS the Lehnsherr-Maximoff+ Family (Marvel)

27. The House of Atreus (Greek Mythology) VS the Lucis Caelum Family (Final Fantasy XV)

28. The Muniz family (Malcolm in the Middle) VS the Jiang family (Mo Dao Zu Shi)

29. The Gallaghers (Shameless) VS the Kirigaya-Yuki family (Sword Art Online Abridged)

30. The Hoovers (Little Miss Sunshine) VS the Afton family (Five Nights at Freddy's)

31 . The Puppingtons (Moral Orel) VS the Simpsons (The Simpsons)

32. The Whitleys (Prodigal Son) VS the Zoldycks (Hunter X Hunter)

[finnseth]

the body is mostly blood

well. i became severely sad after brisbane, so i made everyone's favorite whump ghoul get sad as well. aether's dead, copia might be soon, and little dewdrop isn't coping very well.

also no. i dont want to talk about the fact that this is 10k words. just be grateful it is.

read on ao3, or continue below

-

Dew should be in the mood for celebrations. Everyone else seems content to be, Aurora excitedly searching up the hottest nightclubs in Brisbane, flicking through hair colors for her glamour while Phantom peers over her shoulder to offer his advice. Cirrus is leaning back into Cumulus' chest, breaths whistling softly through her angelically parted lips as she dozes. She'll join the new kids, and she'll swear she didn't have a nap on the bus. No one will say anything against it, lest she invite them to her room for apologies back at the Abbey. Mountain has taken up residence around Rain's lithe body, nose buried in his hair as Rain's tail wraps around Mountain's wrist. They sway with the movement of the bus, and to some little tune they're sharing with Rain's headphones. Swiss is deep in a low conversation with Copia, probably talking about some vintage whiskey he'd like to share with his Papa and see where the night takes them.

So that just leaves Dew. Back of the bus alone, noise cancelling headphones on, listening to the loudest, angriest music he could find. He'd gone through the effort to put it on his phone after it managed to disappear from the Internet— he might as well listen to the fucking thing. He has his phone open to his texts, cursor blinking at him as he indulges in his worst habit.

A conversation stares up at him, a few months old now, long discontinued. A conversation with Aether.

Aeth 🖤

Haha you know I got you babe

Dewbug 💧

you are the wind beneath my wings 🕊️

It's the last thing he ever sent to Aether, or rather the last thing Aether ever read. There's a wall of messages from over the past months, none of them sent, and certainly none of them received. Telling Aether how much he's tried to hate Phantom, as if it would bring him back. How the little shit managed to worm his way into some small portion of the hole Aether left. The sheer amount that Sunny would have clicked with Aurora, two little fireballs of energy and life. How his day had gone, how tour was going, little things that made Dew remember him. And every now and again, breathless, sobbing messages, barely legible because Dew couldn't get his hands to stop shaking.

He types out a message a few times and deletes it, like this isn't just some masochistic diary. Eventually he just starts typing and sending before he can even think, and then thinks about throwing his phone out the bus window.

Tour finished tonight. I know how much you loved this country. How much you loved this world. I wish you could have seen this crowd, shit. It just gets bigger every time.

I'm sorry I never stopped missing you.

I'm sorry about the hole left in my chest. The new kids don't deserve it. They're so young and full of life.

You would have been so proud of Phantom. He handles that fucking Fantomen better than either of us ever did, sorry to say.

Copia called himself frail, the fucker. Watched that sea of phones go up, like it's a game to them. Maybe it is. Maybe they don't realize.

Well I mean he stuck a fucking ice cube down his pants, I can't blame them for wanting to keep that forever. 

Satanas, I hope I keep him forever.

Dew presses his forehead against the window of the bus, rattling his skull in a way that's perversely satisfying as the bus rounds a corner. When they arrive at their hotel, a sleepy little collection of cabins he's heard a couple locals — and Mountain — call a caravan park, he makes his way to his room without even so much as a goodnight to everyone else. He has no idea if anyone else notices, but he hears and promptly ignores Copia's soft voice calling after him. He just can't tonight, just can't face pity and look into those sad eyes and pretend like he isn't scared out of his mind.

He's similarly distant at the airport, hood drawn up and sunglasses shielding his eyes. Everyone else has a pounding headache from the celebrations, Dew just can't handle the idea of being witnessed. He sits apart from the group when they get to their gate, ready for that long haul back to Stockholm and wishing he could let some of his glamour slip. He feels itchy and cooped up, and maybe if he could soothe the spade of his tail like a kit does, he'd feel a little better.

But as kind as Copia is about their forms, that's a step too far. It's not like Dew is going to do anything to face the wrath of the Ministry, certainly not now, so he just contents himself with knowing he's got a few good months of letting his wings free coming up soon. He's sat beside Copia, to his infinite dismay and his eternal delight. Their hands stay tangled under the blanket the whole flight, as few words are exchanged between them. Neither feel like talking much, and Copia spends about half the trip snoring away anyways. 

The Abbey welcomes them like a parent awaiting the empty nest to be filled again for the holidays, warm and insistent but also a little bittersweet. Everyone knows it is not meant to last. As Copia gives his first sermon back to a rapt group of Siblings, worn lines gracing the curves of his face, Dew has to leave Black Mass halfway through for the first time in his infernal life. There's something in the way the light hits Copia's face that makes him seem as frail as he toyed with being on stage, tired and beaten down. Hopefully his Unholy Father can find some way to forgive him the transgression. He presses a kiss to the icon of Asmodeus on his rosary and makes a silent promise to the Saint of Hell that he won't whine next time he's asked to deal with the hundreds of candles in the chapel.

As he walks, his legs carry him on well worn paths, ones he remembers walking with dewier skin and a younger heart. The ever so slightly disastrous state of the garden calls to him, whatever little mote of water that remains between his ribs aches to help Mountain fix it the way he used to, even though the earth ghoul is still kneeling piously in the pews. The autumnal shade of the oaks lining the gothic courtyard remind him of years past, chasing after the love and affection of other Papas, and losing those just as easily as his beauty earned them. Dew ends up back in the dormitories, looking up with a start when he realizes he's at the place that hasn't been his room in years. It's the one he shared with… Satanas, he can't remember their name anymore. Back when he was still craving Secondo's attention, the little siren that he was.

Dew shakes off the memories and heads back to his own room, but not before passing Copia's door. It's obviously unoccupied, but there's a little pull from deep in Dew's gut that begs him to change that. He makes to continue towards his chambers, but he gets about three steps before doubling back and trying the doorknob tremulously. It gives— Copia had a terrible habit of leaving doors unlocked behind him. 

Copia’s room is a monument to his simple tastes, to the luxury of small things. It’s nowhere near as lavishly appointed as Terzo’s room was; there’s no sumptuous silks and fine rare dyes here, no gilt kissing the corners of everything. And it’s certainly not the somber elegance that Secondo surrounded himself in, high pile velvet that swallowed all light and sound until the room felt almost claustrophobic. No, it was about as breezy and light as the old Abbey could manage, windows perpetually open to let in the smell of fresh cut grass, or the breeze off the lake, or the sick-sweet rot of leaves as Dew notices now. The window is a panoply of cool colored diamonds of stained glass, casting a mottled glow onto the floor and on his arms that reminds Dew of hot summer days in the lake, of flirting with Mist as they ducked through the cool waters together and let their bodies twine in ecstasy. 

Dew crawls into the butter soft sheets, the delicate cream color feeling like it’s going to be sullied by his presence. He can’t call to mind the country of origin, though it sounded fancy when Copia decided to treat himself after a long tour with one too many scratchy sheets. Dew didn’t pay much attention, his thoughts were occupied otherwise as Copia ordered the sheets with one hand idly petting away between his horns. The little ghoul crawls into the divot formed by Copia’s body and buries his sensitive nose into the place where his head rests nightly. It’s an explosion of love that blasts the blackened char of his heart into a thriving, burning core again. It’s vanilla and jasmine, the first kiss of spring after a winter of using the powers forced on him to keep the Abbey’s residents warm, that very first time a timid Cardinal looked his way and said that he didn’t know if Dew would want the compliment, but that he was looking very nice today. (He hadn't been, he had smoldering sticks in his hair from where he'd dived into a bush to capture one of the Cardinal's rats.)

He delicately tangles his fingers up in the sheets, careful not to pierce or snag them with his claws, and curls up tight. The sensations in the room are all he can focus on; the ambient chatter from Siblings and ghouls alike that sings through the unhallowed halls, the decaying smell of the book glue holding together Copia's beloved and very old copy of the Malleus Maleficarum, the taste of his own bile on his tongue as tears rise unbidden to his lashes. Dew lets a few of the tears fall to the pillow, sullying the fine fabric with his own weakness. He barely notices the acid clang of the chapel bells ringing to signal the end of Black Mass, though when the door clicks open he shoots up guiltily, ears pinned back.

"Papa, I didn't, I-" His voice cracks from disuse, and Dew realizes then how little he's been around his pack since they got back. He slinks off to bed before anyone retires, has shrugged off invitations to movie nights and even brushed off Mountain when he was invited to spend some time in the greenhouse. He'd just needed his space, right?

"No, no, tesoro mio, you know you're always welcome. But I noticed you slip out of Mass, and you’re never absent from Mass.” Copia comes and sits on the bed, depressing it slightly. He puts a hand between them, bridging the gap in a way that leaves Dew the power to make the choice to reach out. Dew watches guiltily as his gloved fingers stroke idly along the grain of the fabric. His whole body screams at him to reach out, to make the connection, but he can’t make his arms move from where they’re wrapped around his wan frame. Trembling fingers soothe along the scars on his ribs where his gills used to be, and Copia moves his hand to Dew’s knee. “What prompted you to leave, Dewdrop?”

“I haven’t.. I haven’t been okay for a while, Papa.” Dew admits, voice low like a confession. Forgive him, Unholy Father, he knows full well what he’s done. “I can’t…” His voice clicks as more tears spill over his cheeks. He brings his knuckles up to brush the tears away, but they're interrupted by the soft kiss of leather as Copia catches the tears on his own fingers.

"Take your time, mio amato." Copia scoots a little further onto the bed, and in a flurry of hot limbs, Dew launches into his arms. He lets out a soft oof as he catches Dew, sinking a hand into the tangle of his hair. Dew paws at Copia's shirt for a lifeline, sobs shuddering his whole body.

"I can't lose you. I can't lose anyone else." Dew whispers hoarsely all in one breath, until he takes in another gasping breath and the tears fall heavier. He didn't think there was so much water left in his body. Copia tuts gently and strokes down each knob of Dew's spine, a soothe he discovered after Dew had his first panic attack under Copia's care. It had happened after that very first show where he was on lead guitar, with a body that felt alien and shouldering more responsibility than he could manage. The show had gone off without a hitch, but Copia had found Dew a sobbing mess on the floor of the dressing room. He'd stayed there longer than the venue really wanted, but it didn't matter. Copia was determined to stay until his ghoul was alright.

"You aren't going to lose me." Copia murmurs back, rubbing the thin space between Dew's shaking wings. The little fire ghoul whimpers piteously, claws sinking into Copia's shirt before he realizes with a gasp what he's done. "No, no, you're alright. It's just a shirt." He soothes, voice low and sonorous.

"Aeth said-" Dew can't finish the sentence, but Copia figures out rather quickly what his ghoul is implying. He knows well of the bond between the two, and how much it had pained Dew to have it severed. When the Ministry came to collect its assets, to recoup the loss of a very taxing new quintessence ghoul to summon, Aether had gone with a grace the barbaric act hardly deserved. But he'd not been given the choice to explain to his mates, or to even say goodbye. It was sudden, jarring, and Copia had been there to support Dew while he delivered the worst news to his pack that anyone could fathom.

"I know. I know it must sound like an empty promise. But who could take me away from you?" Copia says gently, pushing his hand under the hem of Dew's shirt to stroke the furred base of Dew's tail. "I would fight the forces of Heaven and Hell to keep you in my arms." 

"Who could take you away? The same people who took Aether, Sunshine, your brothers, Alpha, Omega, Ifrit. Should I go on?" Dew pulls back to look at Copia incredulously, tear tracks burned into his cheeks. He looks over Copia's face, takes in the life worn into his features, the freckles that Dew himself has kissed over after a night of passion. "You said it yourself, Papa, you said that you're frail. Your time is up soon. And you can tell me that some of it is toying with your flock but-" Dew cuts himself off with the memory of their arms wrapped around the others waist on stage, as Dew did his best to not look utterly besotted with his Papa. I love you, little man. Saints, the words ring in his head even now. How it thrilled his chest to be publicly declared worthy of the unholiest love he knows, how bittersweet the finality of it all felt on his tongue. "How am I supposed to know that when I wake up, you'll still be here?"

"I think you'll just have to trust me." Copia sighs, fingers still rubbing the little patch of fur that graces the transition from human to beast, from glamour to ghoul. "I know it is an impossible task."

"No. Trusting you is easy. It's the world I can't rely on." Dew rubs the tears away, a low purr kicking up at the gentle pets to his trembling body. His heart rate is starting to slow, that infernal core cooling off to a glowing coal. The panic takes a backseat to the fact that Copia is here, in his arms. For right now, whatever comes next is immaterial. 

"Then let me be your world, and rely on me." Copia breathes, pulling Dew into an achingly tender kiss. Dew can still smell the incense from Mass clinging to his hair, with that undercut of jasmine and salted tangerine from his cologne. That all too familiar scent is safety to Dew, it's love, it's home, it's hope. No matter the bouquet of pheromones that his pack has for him, it's never quite this combination. He would know Copia by this alone, by the brush of uncalloused fingers on his cheek, by the sound of rushing blood through his veins rather than ichor. 

The kiss finally lets Dew relax, wings drooping heavily as all the tension leaches from his body like his namesake evaporating in the heat of a summer morning. He's cried himself into emotional exhaustion, and now he just wants to be touched. He's tired of shutting himself off, tired of being on the outside of the pack, tired of being scared and wounded and crawling off to die alone like a cat. Copia pulls him closer, a low whine building in his throat that makes Dew crave him deeper than he ever thought possible.

"I love you." Dew pants when they both pull back for air, foreheads pressed together as Dew feels leather-clad hands exploring the familiar pathways of his body. His horns press softly against Copia, that eternal reminder of how different they are at their cores. "I've never- you.. I don't think I'll ever love like this again." Copia hums softly and kisses the corner of Dew's mouth, drawing him back in like the tide. 

"Maybe not. Maybe you will." Copia leans back slightly, bringing a hand up to his teeth to pull the glove off. Perhaps he doesn't notice how it makes all the hair on Dew's body stand on end, perhaps he notices and doesn't care, because he does it to the other one, clasping the gloves in one hand and gently tossing them to the desk where they land limply. His fingers are impossibly warm and soft as they come back to grace Dew's imperfect form, well manicured nails scraping ever so slightly. "All that matters to me is loving you here and now."

"Then love me. Love me fully." Dew begs, a whine creeping into his plea. But Copia isn't deterred by the vulnerability, isn't scared off by Dew's infernal ache. He pushes into the soft curve of Dew's jaw, leaves painted kisses there as he slowly pulls the shirt off that Dew stole from Mountain some years back. It hangs off him like a tunic, but no one could deny him whatever he wanted, considering he looked so loved in the oversized garment.

Perhaps it isn't wise to seek to heal this hurt with sins of the flesh; Dew recognizes this. And there is more yet to do to banish this pain from his mind, his soul, and perhaps truly it will never be gone. There is always going to be an indelible mark that the ones who are no longer here make on his pitch-heart, carve their name in hellish runes on the very surface of his obsidian bones. And in time, he will learn to live with this. In time he will wear the names of the departed with pride, and love, and welcome new names and new loves to become part of him. For right now, though, he is as shattered porcelain, begging to be put together anew. Changed by the process, but once again whole.

Dew sinks his claws into Copia's shirt again as his Papa's lips travel lower, kissing over his prominent collarbones, and up to the faded scars from his gills. Dew had tried to open them up once, a year or so after his transition. A delusion grabbed hold of his shattered psyche, convinced him that the beautiful creature he used to be lay still underneath the surface, needing to molt to become himself again. It was Aether who found him, fingers stained black with the effort of his pain, shaking and sobbing and woozy from blood loss. It was Aether who used his fledgling powers, tripping on the unsteady legs of a newborn deer to knit flesh back together again. And it was Aether who convinced him that he was beautiful any and every way he was, and that the cruelty of the powers that be was in no way his fault. 

The Ministry moved in mysterious ways, sometimes bold and striking declarations from Sister Imperator, and sometimes people unbeknownst to even Copia would show up and demand things of he who should be the highest power. It always unsettled Dew, made him feel as if Copia was little more than a dancing monkey, a figurehead puppet who they could shove in front of the yearning masses, who could take the fall when culture came to bite back. It was Copia, of course, who takes the blame for introducing the devil back into the 'good, Christian world'. Copia, of course, who takes the blame for corrupting youths by daring to imply that they should be loved as they are. Copia, of course, who is at fault for wanting his flock to feel and touch and love and fuck as much as their desires told them to, for what could be more human?

"Should I just take this thing off, eh?" Copia says with a smile, eyes flicking down to the long claw marks in the dog-collared button down. It only strikes Dew then that he probably came back to his room to get changed after Mass, only to find a very sad and vulnerable little ghoul in his bed. 

"Oh, I.. I didn't mean to-" Dew shrinks away from all the points of contact with Copia, only to have it chased right back as Copia slides his arms around Dew.

"It's just a shirt. Dime a dozen, dolcezza." Copia squeezes Dew gently, fingers finding scars with featherlight touches. The ones he's given himself, the ones inflicted on him, all fall away to nothing under Copia's careful touch. It's as if he's made anew. "Help me get out of it?" He doesn't need help— it's become tatters— but he wants Dew to unfurl, wants him to feel this. Dew plucks at the buttons gingerly, one by one, until he can push the shirt to the floor.

Dew takes a moment to regard the one he loves, the incrementally graying chest hair, his softness, the beautiful fallibility of his mortal flesh. He'd only started to notice Copia's temples going gray this most recent tour, and it was certainly fuel for the fire that was his anxiety. But in the objective sense, it granted him a handsome gravitas Dew couldn't deny. From the way his flock would cheer when he promised to fuck the crowd, it would seem that he wasn't alone in that opinion. Shaking claws reach to stroke along Copia's sensitive sides, and Dew watches with rapt attention as his perfect stomach twitches with barely contained laughter.

"You know I'm ticklish there, don't you?" Copia asks with a smirk, though both of them know that he is. "And yet the touch persists, how cruel of you." Dew finds himself smiling ever so slightly as he shifts and pushes Copia down to the plush bed, deft fingers attacking soft curves. Peals of laughter ring around the room from the both of them as they fall back into each other, into soft lingering kisses that feel first-time timid. With that same gingerness, Dew reaches below the belt for the first time for an exploratory pet. The response he gets is beautifully favorable, a stuttered gasp from Copia, pupils blown. "And if I said I was ticklish there, would you stay your hand?" 

"Saints, I love you when you get romantic like this." Dew says, Copia's fingers coming to rest along Dew's forearm. They regard each other for a long moment, Dew's hair curtaining down in the way that he's always been called beautiful for. He'd thought about shearing his hair after his transition, no longer yearning to feel his hair trail behind him while he swims, no longer feeling like anyone's preziosa sirenella. It was a joint effort from Aether and Copia that had kept it long, Aether meditatively brushing and plaiting the hair while Copia held him close and called him beautiful again, praised the fire in his eyes and the blaze in his bones.

"What you call romantic I simply call honest." One of Copia's hands traces a little trail up the inside of Dew's arm, along his chest to cup his cheek. He pushes up with the other hand, pulling Dew in to kiss him with a little more urgency, a little more breathlessly. He moans wantonly into the kiss, parting his lips to let Copia get even closer, to taste him more insistently. They eventually make their way to a reverse of before, Dew laid back on the pillows looking for all the world like a fallen angel. Sure, the horns and batlike wings don't fit the picture, but the amber eyes looking up through pale lashes seem for all the world like a creature spurned from grace.

His beauty turns to ecstacy when Copia litters his chest with little kisses and love bites, none too hard. Though he'd be hard pressed to bite harder than Swiss, especially considering his rather dull teeth in comparison. But right now Dew can't imagine anything feeling better than this, especially when soft lips brush over his piercings. His back arches into the contact, tail squirming and disturbing the duvet. He lets out a long, low, whined out Papa, which gets him a little hum against his heaving chest. Copia's clever fingers take an exploration down to where Dew's shaft has grown behind his loose joggers.

"Please?" Dew whines, hips jumping and earning him a low, husky laugh from Copia. 

"You don't have to beg, tizzone." Copia says gently, hooking his fingers in the waistband of Dew's pants. His eyebrows raise expectantly, and Dew scrambles to lift his hips enough to get the joggers off. Dew kicks the pants to the ground and paws hungrily at Copia's chest, pulling him into more kisses as the room floods with his cinnamon desire. He's already dripping slick all over the slim juncture of his thighs, squirming underneath the watchful gaze of his Papa. He is flayed open, raw and beating heart ripe for the taking by any predator who dared. And yet, he is not torn in two, and the soft curve of his chest is simply kissed over, leaving smudges of black paint. When Copia leaves his ministrations be, he looks more like a raccoon than normal, all the paint on his lips smudged off completely.

"You look like those, Saints, what does Mountie call them, the bloody trash pandas?" Dew says through a snorting laugh, appending his best true blue impression of Mountain. Copia rolls his eyes fondly and pushes back up onto his haunches, looking down at the ghoul spread out like a feast before him.

"If you're going to be mean I can leave." Copia earns playfully, getting his stern voice out that usually gets reserved for when they've destroyed a hotel room with some sexcapade that makes the bill fall on his shoulders. Notable examples include the scorched bed from when Dew was pinned down and made to cum over and over and over until his little body couldn't take the pressure and literally exploded into flames; the broken bed frame from when Rain begged Mountain for more more more harder please mountie please and the gentle giant had unleashed his powers to rend the particle board to dust as he finished deep in the hot clutch of Rain's body. The most recent incident was the room that looked like a nuclear bomb had gone off when Phantom had lost control of his powers and unleashed a supernova in a cheap hotel, but each of them was brushed under the rug by an understanding but mildly disappointed Copia.

"No! No, I'm sorry, you look nice." Dew reaches out shakily, gripping Copia's shoulders with a fervent whimper. Copia's shoulders slump slightly, and he rubs his thumb along the bird-light joint of Dew's wrist.

"I could never leave you, but I do think I should probably get my shoes off before we continue, eh?" He presses a kiss to the fluttering pulse of Dew's wrist and pulls back a couple steps off the bed to slip his dress shoes off, pulling his belt out of the loops. He hears Dew's throat click with a heavy swallow, and for a moment they share in the hunger for something harder, something that leaves Dew flushed and crying. They're no stranger to that kind of play; there's a very good reason why Copia has a plethora of different leather gloves, well worn by use and, well, too much cleaning. But the moment passes, fleeting as can be, when Copia bends down to unclip the garters from his socks. "Should I leave the pants to you?" He asks with a soft smile, just as Dew's crawling his way down the bed to pluck teasingly at Copia's zipper. 

"Maybe. I let you undress me." Dew grins up at Copia wolfishly, quick fingers dancing along pressed slacks until before Copia knows, his fly is undone and Dew is pawing at him. 

"Should I just fuck you like this?" He laughs, following the line of Dew's thin fingers to gently grip himself. "Boxers and all?"

"You can do it however you like, Papa, as long as you don't let me go." Dew breathes, flame-hot over the thin fabric separating his flushed mouth from sensitive flesh. Copia awkwardly shuffles everything down to a messy pile on the floor, the only real sign someone lives in the room that Dew's noticed since he crawled into bed. His cock springs up, a tempting little bead of pre welling up at the head. Dew grits his teeth in an effort to resist, but as if pulled by an invisible tether, he leans in to press an almost chaste kiss to the head.

"Now that's very dangerous of you, tizzone." Copia breathes as Dew returns to lounging on the pillows, waiting for Copia to chase him up. Nimble fingers dip down to splay open his slit, shimmering in the sun that still filters in the windows. Copia looses a punched groan and moves with a swiftness few people see from him, clambering across the bed to smother his ghoul in kisses once more.

"Need you in me, you know I'm ready for it." Dew juts his chin up proudly, grabbing Copia's hand and shoving it unceremoniously down to his slit. His wide eyes beg him to pet through the velvety folds, and then up to let the smooth, slick length of his shaft throb against his hand. Copia relents, of course he relents to the bid for touch, probing a couple thick fingers into Dew's entrance. He scissors his fingers gently, watching Dew's expression carefully. The fire ghoul's face screws up, but through the years they've been sleeping together, Copia has learned well the difference between pain and pleasure. Dew is firmly on the side of pleasure, at least until something shifts in his face, lip twitching.

"What's wrong? Did I hurt you?" Copia pulls his fingers out, and Dew scrubs at his face, taking a gulping breath and trying to calm his hummingbird heartbeat. He shakes his head, mouth trying to find words.

"It- you… for a second, you felt like…" Dew closes his eyes, trying to find some anchor in the sea of his feelings. "Aeth. I know it's stupid to think about—"

"No, no, Dew, it's not stupid. When do emotions run higher than this, more than when two become one?" Copia brings his clean hand up to cup Dew's cheek, pressing their foreheads together. "Do you want me to stop?"

"No! No. Saints, no, I- I need this. Just need you." Dew throws his arms around the broadness of Copia's back, fingers splaying over the freckled expanse of skin. He clings tight, chest heaving until Copia presses a warm palm to his sternum. They don't say anything, they just breathe in tandem until Copia's even breathing is the rhythm they both follow. Dew nods, and Copia knows what he's ready for without words. They've really never needed words, able to read each other with the smallest twitch of an eye or the quirk of a lip. So it's no surprise to Copia that when he latches his lips to Dew's hot pulse and sinks his fingers back into the warmth of Dew's slit that the little ghoul howls in pleasure, hips jumping erratically.

Copia suckles a dark bite into the pale gray of his Dewdrop, purple blooming to the surface prettily as he opens Dew up. He doesn't need Copia's fingers scissoring him open, not by a long shot, but he'd be remiss if he didn't get his hands dirty in the pursuit of pleasuring Dew. Copia curls his fingers just so, and Dew shouts in ecstacy, shaft throbbing dully as more slick leaks out over his soft stomach.

"Please, please Papa, I don't want to wait anymore." He lays the piety on thick, which seems a little bold for a ghoul who snuck out of Mass. Copia forgives the indulgence, though, and lines himself up to tease the head of his cock along slick folds. "No, no no no nonono, don't tease, please." Dew sobs out. He seems so shattered already, Copia can't help but sink into him, mouth tucked into the angles of his throat to feel his pleasured noises.

"See, I can be kind." Copia mumbles, mouth a little occupied with absolutely ruining Dew with kisses and bruises. Dew yelps as Copia sinks home, hips kissing for a brief second before he pulls almost all the way out.

"Not that kind, apparently." Dew grumbles, jerking up to try and fuck himself on the unmoving cock. Copia lets him try it for a little bit, a faint amused smile playing on his lips. It doesn't last long until the heat beckons, that velvet inferno, and Copia sinks in again with a low groan. Dew's little wings flex against the sheets, claws barely resisting sinking into Copia to pull him impossibly close. He doesn't need the prodding, though, because he picks up a neat little pace. It's not as hard or fervent as it will grow to be, but for now it's just what both of them need. They move together with the gentle push and pull of the ocean, and it reminds Dew of endless quiet moments on the bus, smothering moans in the plush flesh of his lover as they rock with the movement of the bus.

It threatens to ruin Dew's mood, but he forces his mind to think of the ones he's shared that experience with who are still here. Chief among them is of course the man between his legs now, but he feels a different little thrill thinking about Swiss swallowing Dew's noises by clamping a big hand over his mouth, or Cumulus promising to treat him so well if he can stay quiet all on his own. That brings him back from the brink of absolute collapse, to say nothing of the reality of Copia dragging him into a slow, messy kiss. 

Dew slides a hand down in between the both of them to tug at his shaft, but his hand is batted away by Copia. He whimpers at the loss, but Copia picks up the slack immediately. "Just let me take care of you." He murmurs by way of explanation, gently squeezing the slick length of Dew's shaft. His barbs leak all over Copia's fingers, making the glide of skin on skin all but frictionless. It's not the only trait he retained from his previous element, but it was probably the least upsetting. He never needed much foreplay, though he enjoyed it thoroughly, and it definitely made him the pack's favorite choice for a quickie. His hands almost instinctively slide up above his head, ready to be pinned by a large hand. It was one of Mountain's favorite moves, to make him feel impossibly small, but Copia doesn't make the move.

So instead, Dew opts to keep his hands locked tight around the bars of the headboard, thin fingers twining around carved mahogany. Copia groans at the sight when he flicks up his mismatched eyes, focusing back on ruining Dew's chest with love bites. If he thinks too hard about the unfailing obedience that Dew offers him, this endeavor ends far too soon. Then again, compared to the infernal endurance of his ghouls, he's a minute man by comparison, so frankly he's just got to try his best.

"I love you." Dew blurts out randomly, voice thick with pleasure and barely held back tears. Copia's hips stutter for a moment before he looks up to see that the tears are of ecstacy, as far as he can tell. He blinks once, and the fat tears fall from his lashes and race down the hollow of his throat to leave wet spots on the pillow. In response to the love, Copia adjusts himself and pulls Dew's slim legs around his waist, locking them together eternally.

"I love you, Dewdrop, Father Below, do I love you." His hand leaves Dew's shaft for just a millisecond to make sure Dew's legs are locked tight. It returns in due time, bringing with it increased fervor and a lump in his throat that Copia wasn't expecting. He's never been stoic, Saints no, but not nearly as much of a crier as his sweet Dewdrop. There's something in the air today, then that has him choked up. So be it. If his body needs that release, he won't deny himself.

"Don't leave. Please, please don't leave me alone, please stay, Copia please, I can't live without you, I can't lose you." The steady stream of tears turns to wet sobs, and Dew's hands fly from the headboard to cling desperately to Copia and pull him impossibly closer. Their bodies are all but one as their hips meet over and over. Something in the desperate cries makes the fragile dam inside Copia break, and when he screws up his face when Dew flutters, he feels the hot slide of tears down his own cheeks.

"I could never, tizzone. I can't bear to lose another person. I can't hurt you." His voice shakes, and he'd love to pretend that it's because of all the sensations swallowing him, the sweet honey heat of his Dew. But it's a disservice, he thinks, to pretend himself incapable of tears. What then, of the grief he'd experienced, of all the loss of family and love alike? Here, in the sanctuary of his room, he has no obligation to be His Unholiness, Papa Emeritus IV, a stoic figurehead to lead and protect his flock. He can just be, ever so simply, Copia. A man, with vulnerabilities just like everyone else. He swallows heavily, and Dew leans up to kiss his tears away. They're both just sort of crying on each other, wet cheeks pressed together. 

They press even closer to each other, chest to chest as Copia's hips speed up. His hand squeezes the forming knot at the base of Dew's shaft, interrupting the tears with a yelp of pleasure.

"Oh, oh fuck, harder, please, can you- harder?" Dew asks, voice trembling. He never asks this politely, and combined with the throb of his shaft, Copia realizes he's not the only minute man here. The pace slows down in service of more brutal thrusts, getting punched little groans from the both of them as the bed creaks with protest. His hand makes choppy little strokes along Dew's shaft, lack of rhythm unbecoming of a practiced musician. Dew doesn't seem to mind, head tossing back and forth and making his silken hair into a mussed tangle despite the inelegance of Copia's thrusts. Right about when Copia expects, his thighs and hips start to burn in protest. It's for the best that he thinks about bringing things to a crescendo.

It's definitely not a premature end; Dew's slit is pulsing heavily around Copia which always signals that he's about to burst. The little hiccups each time he fucks a little deeper into Dew's hot body are a sure sign that it's time to try his dirtiest trick. Well, 'dirty' implies that he's on equal sexual footing with the very emissaries of Hell's lust, so it's more that he's a very clever lover. He swipes both his hands under Dew's ass, trusting his knees for all of two seconds to bear the weight of him while he adjusts to fuck up into the spot that makes Dew howl. And howl he does, one hand clawing deeply at Copia's shoulder without breaking skin. The other rends the pillow under his head to downy shreds, fine duck feathers exploding into the room and clinging to Dew's sweaty shoulders.

"Aaah, yes, yes, Copia please, please I'm right there, touch me touch me please please, Unholy Father, I need to cum!" Dew sobs wetly, bringing a feathered hand up to scrub the tears away so he can beg with the full power of his alluring amber eyes. He doesn't need to beg; he never needed to ask. But it seems ingrained in him to ask permission, so Copia gives him a little grunt of affirmation. That's apparently the key to get the levee to burst, because Dew spills all over his stomach and chest with a wail. Iridescent cum coats his piercings, glittering in the dappled light of the window. The fluttering of Dew's silken walls around him means Copia is barely moments behind, spilling into Dew and screwing up his face. 

The ecstacy brings the tears back in full force, a sick combination of pain and pleasure. His chest constricts as if squeezed from within, and he finally looses a proper sob. Copia wipes at his eye, coming back with a smeared blob of paint staining his fingers, and it's quite belatedly he realizes that he probably looks absolutely haggard. He can't be fucked to care, honestly, especially as he pulls out and lowers Dew back down to the bed, watching as his chest heaves. Dew's cum barely starts to dry, hardly gets the chance before Copia leans down to clean him up with that silvered tongue. He laps broadly, swiping up slick and cum in equal measure as Dew sobs quietly into the back of his hand. Copia keeps his kisses featherlight, his tongue as restrained as he dares. If he catches a couple of his own tears in his ministrations, so be it.

"Saints, I could worship you forever. You are so dear, so unholy to me." Copia breathes against Dew's damp skin, ears tuned to the stuttered hiccup at the reversal. Dew had caught the attention of many a man (and woman) of the cloth, and yet none of them had found him worthy of worship. Only Copia truly viewed him as not only equal, but superior. Dew did his fair share of devotion in the bedroom, but he was used to being on his knees in more ways than one.

"Don't deserve it." Dew whimpers, though his hands tell a different story when they sink into Copia's hair. "I don't- I'm not beautiful anymore, not like I used to be. Too much blood." His hands twitch on Copia's scalp, and for a brief moment all Copia can think of is the moment Dew stumbled on him in a puddle of ichor, of Aether's— No. No. Not now. Not when he's dragging down lower, sensitive cock brushing against silky sheets when he settles in between Dew's legs. Copia's spend leaks wetly from Dew, little pulses of his orgasmic afterglow pushing a new wave of slick and cum out of him. He watches for a couple seconds, pleasure-dazed until he remembers his purpose, hands coming up to stroke gently at the thin plane of Dew's thighs. Gentle fingertips stroke at the fine hair on his legs, feeling the muscles twitch uncertainly as Dew awaits whatever comes next.

What comes next is a supernova of overstimulation, Copia's tongue licking broadly between dusky folds. He's so pretty and dark down here, like a rare flower with midnight petals. 

"Fuck, hurts. Hurts good." Dew bleats, taking a fistful of Copia's hair in his hand as he's cleaned out with gentle licks. "Please don't stop. Might go again." Copia groans into slick flesh, the idea that he could bring Dew to even the littlest orgasm down here stirring heat right back up in his gut. So he sets himself to the task, bringing a single firm finger up to prod tenderly. It's under the guise of making sure Dew is cleaned up properly, but it's really to pet at his soft walls and feel him flutter with each lick. Before he knows it, Dew is clamping his thighs tight and squealing, body forcing every last drop out of him and onto Copia's tongue. Dew doesn't have to push him away when he's had too much, because Copia knows him intimately, knows just when to draw his finger out in the aftershocks.

Dew's face is blotchy, all different shades of plum and tyrian purple, and the patchwork only continues down his neck and chest. His face is still wet with tears, though they've dried down to a velvet sheen on his soft cheek. Copia kisses the inside of his knee, murmuring softly that he'll be right back, he's just going to grab something to clean them both off. Dew assumes he's going for the ensuite, and he paws at Copia with a yelp, but he only moves to the other bedside table to flip open a vintage cigar box. Inside is not cigars, but a pastel little packet of baby wipes, all hidden away to keep the impeccable aesthetic of his room in order. Dew watches curiously before he lets out a watery laugh that turns a little teary, making more feathers from the destroyed pillow stick to him.

"Oh, shit, the- Papa, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to—" Copia waves a hand and beckons Dew off the ruined pillow. He goes uncertainly, relaxing into the touch as Copia wipes him down, leaving him smelling faintly of honey and almond.

"It's a pillow, I can get another. I'll forgive you if you tell me what's so funny." His mouth settles into a lazy smile as he discards the wipe to grab another and slip it down between Dew's legs. The little ghoul hisses at the cold between his warm legs, but he does as his Papa asks.

"Just the," he waves his hand at the cigar box, "I don't know. Such a silly little thing hidden away in a mature shell. It's very you. And I love that. Practical and not too serious and-" Dew shudders as his sensitive shaft retreats, brushing against the cool wipe. "Hells, that's cold."

"I would be loathe to invest in a wipe warmer." Copia explains mildly, with the not so subtle implication Dew was being a bit of a baby about the cold. "Rain loves it, says he gets too hot and sticky." Dew opens his mouth to protest, but clacks it shut with a snap of his jaws, brow furrowing.

"Well. I'm not much like him anymore, am I?" He says quietly, eyes sparking like when he loses control of his element. Copia watches him carefully, fingers stopped in their work to ensure he doesn't obliterate the bed. The fire dies down completely, quenched by the tears that bubble up and fall with a scary speed. "Not much of anything, really." He hiccups, and it's the comedown Copia was really expecting. He's never escaped a teary romp in the sheets without lengthy aftercare, and likely some of the world's worst pillow talk by normal standards. 

"No, no. You're everything. I knew you were beautiful from the moment I saw you." Copia soothes, tossing the soiled wipes into the wastebin that's there for just that purpose. He hesitates for a moment, wondering if it's worth the effort to clean up his paint. But he eventually perishes the thought, considering that Dew is grasping up at him with pitiful paws. So he looks like a rat left out in the rain, so what? He sits back down on the bed, shunting Dew into his lap and gently picking every stray feather off of his damp skin. Every fourth feather or so, he brushes Dew's cheeks of the tears that incessantly fall, granting him reprieve best he can. "It's alright. I knew this was coming for a long time, dolcezza." 

"What- what do you mean?" Dew looks up blearily from behind his tears, eyes now dulled to the color of stale coals. Copia tuts gently, flexing slightly so that his foot doesn't go fully numb with the pressure of the little head on his thigh.

"You were withdrawn since Brisbane. Barely spoke for weeks, all you did was hold my hand on the plane." His voice is gentle, all the patience of a teacher, a leader, a pastor. All the things he's been to Dew and more, his anchor in the storm. "I've seen this mood on you before, Dewdrop. I know how you get when the.." He waves his hand, looking for the words, "melancholy takes a hold of you." He's probably looking for depression, but he's got a poet's soul. Sue him. "Mountain came to me a little while ago, asked if you had been more forthcoming with me about how you were doing. Your pack is worried about you, myself included." 

"I wish he wouldn't." Dew grumbles, wiping at his face. He's mostly free of feathers, so Copia's moved to gently detangling his hair and picking out the down he finds stuck there. "I just.. I wish they'd leave me alone."

"You know they won't. When I saw you leave Mass I.. to be honest I almost stopped the whole affair to chase you." He'd been in the middle of Desecration, holding His Infernal Body aloft when he saw Dew excuse himself and slip out along the shadowed corridors, votive candles burning a little brighter as he passed. It'd formed a lump in his throat that hadn't gone away till he'd been able to shed his robes, leaving them in a pile for the poor sacristy ghouls to deal with. "I was glad to find you here, instead of.." He trails off with a shaky breath, the implication hanging as a sword of Damocles above them.

Dew closes his eyes tight, forcing tears down his mottled cheeks. He balls his fists, and it's like he's trying to squeeze all the anxiety and pain and doubt out of his little body. He relaxes with a slump, laying heavier on Copia's lap. Alabaster horns prick at Copia's thigh, and he sinks his fingers into Dew's very scalp to massage around the base of his horns. Sometimes that touch is arousing, but right now it's just soothing, though it does little to stop the tears.

"What's keeping you away from us, little flame?" Copia murmurs, trailing his fingers down to press his middle fingers into the little spot at the hinge of Dew's jaw on either side. So much tension is carried here, not to mention the spot where his pheromones burn the strongest, and when Copia massages the whole room floods with warm tobacco and teak. 

"I.." Dew breathes in and out once, chest trembling, "I'm terrified that when you go, I won't feel it. That I won't know." The confession seems to shatter something in him, and he crumples up his face like the words struck him. "And I thought maybe if I could pull away it wouldn't hurt so bad, wouldn't kill me when everyone dies again and again and again. But maybe not knowing is worse." One of Copia's hands presses on Dew's sternum, helping to regulate his breathing. The other travels back up to scratch softly at his scalp. "I still message Aether." Dew continues, "I have for months. I don't know what I'm doing without him, it's like.. I don't know. I've lost packmates before, so many of them, but I never thought I'd lose him."

"I know. Saints, do I know." Copia strokes his thumb along Dew's feverish skin, scooping a hand underneath his head to deposit him gently on the bed. Dew whimpers, hands reaching up for Copia piteously. "I'm not going far, dolce." He gently makes his way over to the desk, sliding open a drawer and pulling a bundle of tied together letters out of the very back. They're all different sizes, some as thin as a single sheet, some clearly stuffed full with multiple pages, and as Copia brings the stack back, Dew spots the name on every single one of them in elegant script. Aether. "It's a little more old fashioned, but.. I write to him. Not on a schedule, just.. when I find myself thinking of him. And I tuck them away, and I," He sighs, a shaky little noise that has Dew finally sitting up and cocking his head, eyes searching Copia's face. "When I can go long enough without remembering that.. that damnable pool of ichor, I'll burn them for him. In the summoning room, and I'll hope that he gets to read them."

Dew takes the stack of letters gently, noting a faint herbal scent when his hands warm the papers. They're all on fine paper, thick and rich and sealed with wax bearing the symbol of the church, carefully embellished in gold by a gentle hand. He brings one of the letters to his nose, but he can't for the life of him identify the herb. Mountain probably could, but he doesn't really spend enough time in the garden. Anymore.

"Rosemary. For remembrance, and because he always used to love that lamb roast Mountain would cook up for Ostara, which Mount always claimed was traditional hell cuisine and I'm just now doubting the veracity of that," Copia laughs fondly, a small, sad little noise. "There's a sprig in every letter for him. I learned that magic a very very long time ago, at that boy's school, Saint Amduscias'." Copia takes the letters back and tucks them into the desk again, fingers lingering briefly on the lacquered wood.

"How often do you think of it?" Dew asks, eyes searching the expanse of Copia's back, noting each freckle for the hundredth time. He knows asking the question is like poking at a sore tooth for the sick satisfaction of it, but there is a perverse pleasure that leaves the ache a little duller each time he talks about it.

"Those letters? They're all from this last leg of tour. And I have more I haven't unpacked." Copia turns, always so beautifully unashamed in his nakedness. It was a shame that humans got so touchy about their bodies, considering how wonderful and unique they all are. Dew's always been grateful that Copia never seemed to be in a rush to cover up after sex if he didn't strictly have to. "How can I not think of it? I can't.. I don't know that I'll ever forget fully. I knew Ministry staff were to be there that day, but I never thought.. well, I knew the rumors. I'd heard things, here and there but they were my first replacements." The words drips off his tongue as if it were acid, vile and burning.

"I can't stop thinking about feeling it before I saw it." Dew comes over and swings his legs off the bed, leaning back and looking up at the one who's charmed his heart over and over again, and will probably do so till both of them are in the ground. "I'd seen some important looking people around but, I mean. You know how I am with authority, I just ignored it."

Copia pushes off the desk and settles his body in between Dew's slim knees, until Dew is craning his neck to make eye contact. "What did it feel like? You never told me." Dew's heart skips a beat so loudly it feels like it reverberates around the room.

"Like a star collapsing in on itself. Like a heart attack, from what I've been told it feels like." He swallows thickly around the lump of tears in his throat. He feels like a wrung out rag, like blood squeezed from the stone. There's probably more tears in his body, but Hell Below, he just wishes they'd stay there. "Like being stabbed and then the knife slides out slowly, like the person doing the stabbing enjoys it. Like losing a limb." Dew gets quiet, and he rests a hand over his heart, scars from former fins shimmering down his arm. Copia bends down and presses his forehead against Dew's, a Ghoulish kiss Dew first taught him by accident. The fire ghoul had just done it, and Copia played along, until Dew realized the poor Cardinal had no idea what he'd been doing.

"I'll do anything I can to make sure you never feel that again." He murmurs, and Dew sighs, a dismissive tone to the noise.

"You know you can't promise that." Dew says shakily, and Copia bumps his nose against Dew's a soft little movement that makes Dew's chest constrict.

"No, not entirely. But I mean it. I'd do what I could." They fall into a silence then, breathing in each other's air, enjoying each other's space. The arrhythmic rasp of a starling sings through the window, a discordant soundtrack with the backing beat of their hearts as accompaniment. Dew pulls back eventually, nosing at Copia's jaw to get his attention.

"Do you want to go see him?" Aether has a sort of grave, a shrine really. They weren't allowed to keep his body; the Ministry had taken it as some sort of grotesque currency for Phantom's summoning, but they had other things. The mask Terzo had given him, and the first one Copia gave. A broken little shard of horn from early on, when he literally butted heads with Omega and snapped it off. His beloved bracelet, which Ivy had gifted him, shaped by their own hand from scrap guitar strings. The first Fantomen he'd gotten, all those years ago. Phantom was given a new one, apparently not too dear a price from the Ministry for their newest summon. Gifts from fans, piles and piles of them, carefully kept safe in a plexiglass case. He'd kept almost everything he'd been given; if he could fit it into a nook or cranny of a gear box or a bunk, he would. Dew had found some little trinket tucked into his guitar case when he opened it up for the first time to prep for tour, and it's been on his bedside table ever since. It's all lovingly ensconced in an explosion of flowers that Mountain maintains like a soul-bound duty, heliotrope and lavender and aster and stargazer lilies, each one beautiful and perfect.

"I think that would be nice. I haven't been since we got back. The lilies should be blooming, and I think Mountain will forgive me if I take one for myself." Copia muses, wondering if he can find some little bud vase that he can get Rain and Mountain to jointly enchant to have a perpetual flower on his desk.

"Oh, you know those things make me sick whenever you handle them too much." Dew grumbles, but it's playful, light, and the beat of his tail on the bed says as much.

"Ah, so I shouldn't wear my gloves to pick one? Wouldn't want those dreadful lilies near your, eh, most sensitive parts." Copia gets a wicked little smile, and Dew pushes him away with a groan, flopping back to the bed and watching as a couple of feathers float up from it.

"You're so lucky I love you."

"I am."