#hopefully that means less exhaustion and actual time to write

[queenie-ofthe-void]

Stuck

~1.5k words || rating: teen || cws: dissociation; unlabeled neurodivergencies and mental illnesses

He’s never quite sure how it happens, seeming to always sneak up on him. One minute he’s up and moving around, usually cleaning, organizing, or just meandering around the house. The next, he’s lying on the floor in the middle of the living room. He tries to move but can’t. Not because he’s physically restrained, like when the rope from the Russians cut into his wrists or how the vines constricted his neck. 

No, Steve’s just lying here on the floor, trapped in his own mind. His eyes are raw, stinging with dryness. Painful tingles pop throughout his right arm from where his head rests heavy on his bicep. His hip and shoulder ache. He can’t move or talk or blink. Can barely think. He’s not in his body. 

He’s lost. Stuck.

Getting stuck means losing time, chunks of days lost to a void. It means missing meals and unanswered phone calls. Growing up, it felt like an escape. A safe way to pass the time between eating and sleeping. He’d come back to himself, sometimes hours later, sore and hungry, mustering up energy he didn’t have. Once, his parents discovered him frozen on the ground. Mom’s yelling and Dad’s foot shoving his side brought him jolting back into his body. Like waking from a nightmare, rising from the dead chased by panic. 

It happens less now, but still catches up to him when he’s exhausted. He thinks today it was the kids– they were particularly obnoxious. Yelling excitedly about Eddie’s new campaign ideas, trucking in snow from outside after building a demo-snowman. Cooking for them, cleaning after them, getting them home safe.

Yeah, he gets how he maybe overdid it a bit. 

But with Eddie here, it’s easier. His sweetheart always knows how to help, usually checking up on him after stressful days. Hopefully he comes to check on him soon.

Because Steve can’t move. Or talk. Or even blink.

The sun is starting to set.

~~~

The Party were extra chaotic today, pushing him to the fringes of patience. He’s thrilled they’re excited about his newest campaign ideas, but god, did they have to be so unbearably loud about it? Dustin’s screeches are still rattling between his ears. Not to mention the soreness he feels from helping the kids build a snowman demo-thing and the ensuing snowball fight. 

The idea of an occult campaign has been percolating in Eddie’s brain for weeks, and after the day he’s had, he’s lost to the research. Perched on a chair upstairs in their bedroom, books are scattered across the desk and onto their bed next to him. Typically, creative deep-dives restore his energy after a long day. But when he’s well and truly exhausted, he’ll lose hours at a time to the work. Getting stuck, according to Steve. And yeah, Eddie can see how that fits.

Growing up, Eddie would lose hours throwing himself into his latest and greatest project, whether it be drawing, playing guitar, writing campaigns, reading or even the time he tried juggling. Entranced by his newest obsession, his surroundings would fade into the background. He’d forget to do his homework, to eat or drink. Hell, sometimes he’d forget to pee. Wayne’d drop a gentle hand to his shoulder– pulling him back to reality– and he’d take off like a shot to the bathroom. Every sensation hitting all at once: bladder about to burst, stomach rumbling, dry mouth, headache, body stiff and achy. 

As he gets older, it’s still a frequent occurrence. So Robin had given him the idea of setting alarms, saying it helps her remember to take breaks while studying. And he’s thankful, because it works like a charm when he actually remembers. But when he forgets, his Stevie takes care of him. 

He’ll find Eddie crouched awkwardly by the desk, eyes manic, only seeing what’s in front of him. Eddie will eat or drink anything Steve gives him, barely tasting whatever it is, just as long as he can see it. And Steve lets him be for at least a few hours so he can burn energy into whatever project he's lost himself in. All Steve cares is that he’s fed and hydrated. Usually, Eddie comes to slowly, with Steve’s fingers gently carding through his hair, or soft strokes up and down his spine.

Now Eddie breaks his own musings, eyes strained, hungry, and needing to stretch. He can’t help but wonder why his sweetheart hasn’t checked on him. 

Moonlight is shining through the window.

~~~

It’s eerily quiet as Eddie makes his way down the stairs. He half expects to find Steve stress-baking, but the kitchen is dark. 

So he checks the garage– the car is still here. And the backyard– he never sits by the pool alone. Then the front porch– maybe he went out for a smoke.

Guilt eats at Eddie as he finds his beautiful boy on the living room floor, curled into himself.

Stuck. 

He hates finding Steve like this– stuck and lost like Eddie’s engrossed fantasies. Yet so, so different. 

The first time Eddie found him, unresponsive and immovable, he spiraled into a panic so strong Steve had broken free of his own melancholy, finding Eddie hyperventilating and sobbing in the midst of a flashback. Too much like Chrissy. Like Patrick and Nancy. 

They'd talked about it. And Eddie had appreciated afterwards how Steve struggled to describe what being stuck feels like, why it happens, what to do about it. It'd helped. 

So on grey days, long nights, the holidays, or when the kids are extra rowdy, Eddie looks for the signs. He's been good about getting Steve to slow down before it's too late. 

But on rare occasions, there will be a day like today. When it’s too much for both of them.

Eddie doesn't know how long his baby’s been lying here. Doesn't know when he ate or drank or even blinked. Because he’d holed himself up, desperate for time alone to just think. To be with himself after spending all day surrounded by people. But he forgot to set an alarm, assuming Steve would be there.

He focuses on his sweetheart, slowly kneeling down next to him so as not to startle him. Remembers all of the tips and tricks Steve needs. 

"Hey honey," Eddie whispers, close enough to be present but not overwhelming. "Don't worry baby we'll get you unstuck I promise. I'm going to reach out and grab your hand now ok?" 

He continues to whisper gentle praises and reassurances as he holds Steve's hand. It's limp for a time, and Eddie is hungry, but he doesn't stop. Time is lost to them both again, until he feels a slight squeeze on his fingers. Steve finally blinks, slow and hard. 

"Hey big boy, love to see those pretty, long eyelashes.” He smiles down at his baby, honeyed hazel eyes slowly refocusing. “Alright, once for no and two for yes: do you want me to help you onto the couch?" 

A full minute passes before Eddie feels two gentle squeezes to his fingers. 

"That's great sweetheart. I'm gonna tilt you to sit up and we'll get you settled. Then I'm going to ask if you want anything. Ready?" Two squeezes.

They finally get to the couch, and Eddie can already feel a strong sense of relief at just seeing his baby move off the floor. He hears Steve's back pop as they stand, decides he'll give him a massage later. 

It goes on. And on and on. Eddie follows the process of squeezes until Steve is unstuck and back in his body. 

"Water?" Two squeezes.

"Food?" One squeeze.

"Blanket?" Two squeezes. 

Eddie's patience always pays off. He's got Steve set up on the couch, hydrated and relaxed, with his favorite movie playing softly. He’s managed to grab a bowl of cereal for himself. They're cuddled and warm with Steve’s head in his lap. Eddie glides his fingers up and down the sore side of Steve’s body, gently squeezing as he goes.

~~~

Steve comes back to himself surrounded by love. 

His eyes sting and his mouth is dry. He doesn't know what time it is, but notices the sun has long set, moonlight shining through the curtains. The bones in his neck crack and his joints pop as he stretches.

But he's warm under the blankets, tucked into his boyfriend's chest as they watch the teddy bear Star Wars. Eddie's loosely twirling the hairs at the nape of his neck, lightly tugging and sending tingles down his spine. There's a glass of water and crackers on the table in front of him. 

Getting stuck inside his head terrifies him, something he dreads as much as the night terrors. 

But with Eddie, it's easier, happens less often. And when it does, he always wakes up to love.

~~

This was a pure self-indulgence fic. An exact recreation of my relationship with my partner. It fits my headcanon for the boys perfectly (though I'm obviously biased haha)

[omorimodreverie]

Reverie Dev Log - 2024 January + February

Overview

January and February saw ups and downs in activity, but overall significant progress was made. The start of the year was initially slow due to breaks, but activity picked up slowly. You may have noticed that there were less promotional posts or updates in general during this time, as we were focused on development. Thanks to these efforts, though, we’re fairly optimistic that this will be the final dev log for Chapter 3.

As for me (Stahl) personally, I have not been able to do much this time round as I have been busy (hence lack of public updates), but this time round invaluable progress was made by others in the team.

Quick rundown:

First round of playtesting has been done - This was a very rudimentary one aimed at finding basic bugs

NPCs are now mostly finished, and our writers are now working on flavor text and side writings

Portraits are all done and implemented

Battles have been planned out in more detail

Various organizational changes

Extra writers and RPGMV members have been recruited

Updates

The first round of playtesting is complete! This one was rather rudimentary, containing only basic story points. The aim was to test progression and to fix major bugs, both of which we’ve now finished. There are still some major aspects missing, like flavor texts and quests but vital components to main progression like cutscenes and maps are completed and being tested. Hopefully, this round of playtesting should wrap up soon, and more will follow. 

Minor and Side contents

There’s still a lot of design decisions to make, mostly regarding seemingly minor aspects of the game that actually take large amounts of resources. A lot of thought must be put into whether these features, like flavor text and shops, are worth the amount of time needed to make them, and if so how much. 

Due to this chapter being a real world section and story centric, the remaining gameplay would be left to mostly side quests. This is an interesting challenge, as unlike base Omori, Sunny is not familiar with the city like back in Faraway town, meaning it’s more challenging to find opportunities to give him quests. 

As for Reverie specific side content, battles won’t completely be abandoned in the real world. They’ll be taking forms in various challenge battles found throughout the city. For a rough idea, think of the Jackson poster found in Hobbeez from the base game.

Miscellaneous Changes

Another thing yet to be done are tweaks to previous chapter content. They will mostly affect quality of life, but some will also be major gameplay changes. Here’s some examples of planned changes (not exhaustive):

Picnic allows the player to change difficulty mid game (Trust me, later dream world chapters will feature major difficulty spikes and players may get stuck)

Hit Rates on equipment changed, mostly heavily nerfed. This makes evasion buffs actually relevant (and also, 300% hit rate is just silly).

Some skills entirely changed (e.g. Spaceboy Preserve will change into another Attack skill instead).

In game info to indicate that emotion influences Enemy AI very strongly in reverie compared to base game.

Conclusion

Overall, development on chapter 3 is reaching its later stages, reaching the first round of playtesting. This should hopefully be the last dev log in relation to Chapter 3 development.

As thanks for reading this far, here is a remade portrait of real world Sunny! It’s a bit more softer than the previous one, and the proportion has been improved as well.

[icycoldninja]

DMC incorrect quotes (pt 3)

Vergil: Are you drunk? Dante: Only on the spirit of Christmas! Nero: And the spirit of whisky.

Nero, to Vergil: Why is Dante not talking? Vergil: I'm playing the silent game with him. Nero: Well, then you just lost. Vergil: I lost two hours ago. I gave him ear plugs and told him to close his eyes. It was the only way I could think of to get him to shut up.

Dante: I don’t even use tubberware anymore. Vergil: What are you saying? Say it again. Dante: Tubberware. Vergil: Say it again. Slow. Dante: Tubberware. Vergil: Slow, very slow - actually, say the first syllable. Dante: Tub. Vergil: Wrong. Dante: What do you mean, wrong? Vergil: I thought I caught that. You’re saying tub. It’s P. Dante: What are you talking about? Vergil: Tupperware. Tupper. Dante: It’s tupper! Vergil: It’s tupper, always has been, always will be. Dante: I thought it was tubberware because it kind of looks like a tub.

Nero: Why is it that I always lose things as soon as I need them? Dante: Actually, it's not that you lose things when you need them. You lose them a while before. It's just that you LOOK for things when you need them. Nero: Okay yeah thanks Dante, that's great but WHERE'S THE FUCKING FIRST AID KIT?

Dante, grinning: Before you were what? Vergil: Before I was- Dante: What? Vergil: Before I was inter- Dante: Before you were interrupted? Vergil: Cut me off one more time and I swear I'll- Dante: What? Vergil: makes frustrated sound Nero, nervously: Stop that. Before he hurts you.

Dante: Do crabs think people walk sideways? Vergil: …Dante, what the hell.

Vergil, as a child, reading their school assignment out loud: I love my library because… Vergil, mouthing words while writing: I love reading, fuck you.

Vergil, after getting a library card: Now I know what true power feels like.

Nero: Did you buy eggs like I asked? Dante: Even better! Nero: What the fuck did you- Dante: holding up a chicken Her name is Fluffy.

Dante, on the phone: Uh. . Hey, Lady, i uh, I’ve been stabbed. Nero: WHAT? WHERE ARE YOU? Dante: Wait- You aren’t Lady. Sorry- I didn’t mean to call you- Nero: NO, WHERE ARE YOU? IM COMING THERE. IM NOT GOING TO LEAVE SOMEONE ALONE THATS BEEN STABBED.

Nero: Would you like your pizza cut into six or eight slices, Dante? Dante: Oh just six, I don’t think I could eat eight.

Dante: Hopefully Vergil has learned a lesson about respecting other people's feelings. Vergil: Oh, shut up and die Dante.

Nero: Ayo, what the FUCK is this?!? Vergil, sitting down, surrounded by corpses: I won Mafia, that’s what.

Nero: Silence is golden. Vergil: Duct tape is silver.

Dante: Big day today, Vergil. holds up two shirts Mustard stain or ketchup stain? Vergil: Mustard– looks less like blood.

Vergil: I’ve never been in a snowball fight before. I don’t know the rules. Nero: What? Vergil: Is there a point system, or is it to the death?

Dante: I’m so tired. Vergil: Did you get to bed late? Dante: No. Vergil: Did you do something strenuous? Dante: No. Vergil: Then why are you tired? Dante: I’m alive. Vergil: Sounds exhausting.

Dante, slamming pots and pans together to the rhythm of "Give it to me, I'm worth it": I didn't get no sleep cause a' y'all! Y'all never gonna sleep cause a' me!

[ellie-24]

USS Randall Ramblers Part 3

Okay, this is the 2 in 1 deal everyone's been looking forward to not!

Writing prompts:

"Are you always this shy?"

"You're staring."

Tagging my partners in crime. @vintageshanny @from-memphis-with-love @thatbanditqueen @whositmcwhatsit @missmaywemeetagain @powerofelvis @be-my-ally thank you for the support, the debates, the inspiration and the horniness.

Summary: Phone calls aren't enough. These two just can't stay apart for too long.

Word count: ~ 5.5 k

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4

Frankfurt am Main, Germany

"Talk to me, honey, whatcha do today?"

His smooth, velvety voice instantly made Mary shiver and she had to supress a childish giggle. She tightly gripped the phone and caught her reflection in the full length mirror on the other side of the bedroom, seeing herself blushing furiously and smiling. With a sigh she sank further into the matress and slowly twirled the cord in her slightly trembling fingers.

"Actually, I should be asleep already." She grinned teasingly, even though he couldn't see it.

"Aww, Come on, tell me something nice. Please. You know I can't go to bed without talking to you." He mumbled with a pleading tone. Mary could almost picture the famous pout he was probably sporting right now.

She raised her eyebrow. It's been almost four weeks since her visit to Bad Nauheim. It was then that he told her that he would be stationed at Grafenwöhr for the next six weeks, putting him even further out of her reach. But he'd call her every day. That's at least what he promised upon seeing the distressed look on her face. And he actually kept his promise.

For 4 days.

After that, his calls became less frequent. Mary didn't want to admit it to herself, but hearing his voice three or four times a week instead of every day didn't feel enough. It scared her a bit. She was falling way too fast for him and the mere thought of his calls possibly ceasing completely one day made her heart ache terribly.

That's why she sat by the phone on her nightstand every evening, waiting for him to call and ease some of the anxiety she felt. She'd stare at her phone for hours, eyes burning and heavy, stifling yawn after yawn. On some occasions Mary felt kind of pathetic, especially when she'd pass out from exhaustion while sitting up against the headboard, drool already gathering at the corner of her mouth. Oftentimes he'd call her when she was already fast asleep anyway, usually around midnight. The sharp ringing would pull her out of her dreams, which mostly revolved around him anyway, causing her to be wide awake in an instant.

If it was up to him, they'd probably talk to each other throughout the whole night. Sometimes he'd ramble on and on for hours as if he had no one else to talk to and sometimes he just wanted to listen to her talking about her day, family drama or the latest gossip at work. She found that gossiping was rather fun with him because he actually paid attention, unlike other men she's talked to.

"Well alright, you know it's Barbara's birthday on friday." She reminded him.

"Didn't you want to organize a little party at the office?"

"Yeah, scratch that, probably not gonna be a real party, but I really want to get a cake. I asked the other girls if we want to split the cost for a really fancy cake. You know with layers and frosting and decoration and the whole shebang. Now, guess who had a problem with that."

"If you ask like that, sweetheart, it's gotta be Kate." He chuckled.

Mary threw her hands up in frustration. "Of course it was her! Anyway I met up with Helga in my lunch break and her uncle owns this cute, little bakery and he'd probably do it for half the price... Hopefully Kate will be on board with that."

"Honey, just tell me, I'll pay for the damn cake."

"You don't even know Barbara!" She laughed.

"I-I know, but it means something to you." He clarified in a soft voice.

Mary pressed her lips together to stop the embarassing squeal that threatened to espace her and tightly held the phone against her chest. After taking a deep breath she put it back against her ear. "You're so sweet."

"I'm just trying to help my little girl."

Her cheeks started to hurt from smiling so much. "And I appreciate it... I'll let you know what Kate says."

"Alright, sweetheart. What else did ya do today? Wanna know everything."

"Not much I'm afraid. After work I just went straight home. It's so cold, being outside really isn't fun."

"Yeah, you tell me. This damn cold here is driving me crazy."

"And then it also started raining when I walked home from the bus station. I was soaking wet when I arrived. Fingers numb and everything." Mary continued and flexed her hand as if proving to herself that, yes, she could really move it again.

She heard him click his tongue. "Aw, my poor yittle baby. You all bundled up in your blankets now? All warm and cozy?"

Mary pulled the soft fabric up to her chin. "I am."

"And you're wearing your fuzzy little socks? Don't want your sooties to be freezing."

"Yes, Elvis. I'm all warm again, don't worry." She chuckled and watched the raindrops race down the glass window next to her.

When he spoke up again, his voice sounded clearer, as if he put the phone closer to his face. "I-I wish I was there with you sweetheart, sharing a blanket, just like on that ship. Remember? With you running your fingers through my hair." It sounded like he was smiling.

She smiled as well and bit her lip, the memory still very clear in her mind. If she closed her eyes she could still feel his soft hair on her skin. "And your cold hands nearly giving me a heart attack. But yeah I'd really like that. You're a lot comfier than my pillow."

He cooed. "You're such a cute thing. The bunk beds they have here can give ya a mighty back pain, I'll tell ya. Getting some real sleep is a damn hassle."

She sighed and her face scrunched up. "Oh, I know, I shouldn't complain. They make you sleep in these horrible beds and then they want you to walk miles and miles through that mud and I don't know what. Without getting some proper rest!"

He hummed. "And it snowed the other day. You won't believe it. We were knee deep in the snow. The vehicles nearly got stuck, and there were these stupid photographers everywhere, trying to get a glimpse. I looked like a damn idiot."

"Elvis don't say that. What are you supposed to do? And I think it's very brave of you to carry on and do your job, despite everything. And damn these photographers, I'd like to see them do what you gotta do, first."

"Language, yittle. Doesn't suit ya."

"Elvis, don't, you're starting to sound like my mother." She laughed.

He sighed. "One of us has to be the responsible adult."

"A responsible adult? Where? I can't see one."

"Very funny, sweetheart."

She shrugged. "I know. One of us has to be the funny one."

"I'll tell ya if there weren't hundreds of miles seperating us, I'd put ya over my knee now, little girl."

Mary's eyes went wide and she nearly pulled her blanket over her head, as if hiding would improve her situation. "Elvis!" She finally gasped.

"Where's that smart mouth now?" He teased.

She tucked a few locks that had fallen over eyes behind her ear. "I'm just trying to cheer you up with that smart mouth."

He snorted. "Getting on my last nerve sometimes, that's what you do, sweetheart."

She knew he was pulling her leg but she couldn't stop the words that followed. It was just too easy to mess with him sometimes. "Well, then I suppose you should just stop calling me."

There was a pause. "Now, you know damn well I could never do that."

She hummed.

He took a deep breath. "Talking to you is what gets me through all this." His voice got lower, almost like a whisper, which made it hard for her to understand him. "Honey, I'm already dreading tomorrow, ya can't imagine."

Mary squeezed her eyes shut as if actually feeling his sudden anguish just through his voice. She didn't even want to imagine the look on his face right now. Whenever reality would set in, it overwhelmed him in an instant. She never really knew how to respond to his complex and seemingly all-encompassing emotional turmoil. "Oh Elvis, I wish I could help you somehow." She mumbled helplessly.

His voice trembled. "...Cherry, I-I gotta see you. I-It's so horrible here, please I have to see you."

Mary still wasn't sure what to make out of the fact that Elvis sometimes nicknamed her after his dog of all things, but she tried to believe that this was just his very unique, strange way of showing affection.

"Elvis... you know I'd love to visit you. But I can't ask my mum to come with me again."

"I-I know, sweetheart. But they won't let me leave. I can't come over." He paused for a second. "I just... I miss you."

She took a shuddering breath. "I miss you too. Terribly."

He groaned and there was a low thud, which made her jump slightly. It sounded like he hit the phone against a wall or something. When he spoke up again his voice sounded strained. "Let me talk to your father, yittle. I need to see you. Y-You can stay at this inn, my father stayed there as well when he visited. The owner, she's a sweet older lady, she'll take care of ya."

Mary pursed her lips. "Well, I guess you can try. I'll also make sure to use my pout on him. Do you think it'll work out?"

"Trust me. I'll make it happen... Love you."

There it was again. He started saying it a few days ago, their phone call now always ending with the same sentiment. Mary wasn't too sure what to make of it. She always told her friends that she loved them. Was this the same thing? It certainly didn't feel the same, the butterflies in her stomach and the lightheadedness she would feel whenever he'd utter those three special words were proof of that. But what exactly did he mean by it? Mary didn't know if she would call it real love yet. Of course she deeply cared for him, but love seemed to be something for grown-ups. Something that she still felt too young for.

"Love you too." She'd still always reply, both out of a weird sense of obligation but also because it did reflect her feelings towards him and she wanted him to know.

He'd always let out a pleased hum before hanging up.

Grafenwöhr, Oberpfalz. One week later.

Mary looked around tentitavely. Everything here seemed to be made out of wood. She tried not too make much noise while walking around, the floorboards creaking with every step she took. The chairs and tables looked carefully crafted, albeit a bit used and discoloured in places. Mary raised an eyebrow when she looked over at the counter at the other side of the room, with various kinds of liquors stacked onto the shelves behind it. All in all this place seemed to be a bar rather than an inn but she quickly decided that she didn't care. Right now she seemed to be the only one here, except for a few faint voices that could be heard from behind the heavy, wooden door next to the counter. Mary pondered what she should do while carefully inspecting the crochet tablecloth in front of her. She even briefly wondered if she was at the right address.

"There she is! My sweet girl." His voice suddenly boomed behind her. With a jump she quickly turned and saw Elvis beaming at her as he approached, determination in his stride. In an instant she felt his arms around her, a feeling that seemed to be almost familiar by now. She leaned against him and hugged him back, her arms around his neck in a tight grip. She pulled him even closer, happy that she could actually feel him again, and he laughed.

When they parted again he smiled down at her, his eyes wandering towards her lips. Mary felt her heartbeat picking up rapidly when he leaned down and pressed his lips against hers in another short, yet incredibly sweet, kiss. She looked at up him, eyes wide open, her cheeks red.

He softly caressed her waist. "Little Cherry came here all alone just to see me. She's best. Been on my mind the whole day now."

She reached up and rubbed her hands over his hard chest with a smile. "It's so good to see you again."

Suddenly the door behind them opened and a kind looking, middle aged woman wearing an apron appeared. She threw a towel over shoulder, her gaze flickering towards Elvis, then her.

Upon seeing the curious look on her face he stepped forward and cleared his throat. "Ma'am, this is Mary. She's my guest."

Her face lit up. "Oh, you're Mary. I am Frau Feiner. It's lovely to have you here. I hope you'll like it, if you need anything just ask me."

"Thank you, that's very kind." Mary nodded with a smile and looked back at Elvis. He guided her towards a nearby table and promptly plopped down onto the wooden chair. Without warning he pulled her onto his lap and gently patted her stomach with a grin. "Come on, sweetheart, ya gotta eat something. Mrs. Feiner here makes the best Schnitzel. Ain't that right?" He hollered over to Mrs. Feiner who was still busy wiping the counter.

"That's true." She replied with a wink and disappeared through the same door she'd come from before.

"That sounds great, now we only need some Schlager music to round it off." Mary joked, eyeing the old jukebox in the corner of the room.

He snorted. "Ya really listen to that?"

"Helga sometimes makes me. It's not that bad actually. But I still prefer that other guy. That rock 'n' roll singer. You know the one we talked about before?"

"The one who's been on TV and everything?"

"Yeah, that's the one!"

"Mhm. You talk a whole lot about him, honey, makes me wonder if I should feel jealous."

His strong arms pulled her closer to him, so that she was now fully leaning against him. He winced a bit at his own action and squeezed his eyes shut with a shake of his head. Mary furrowed her brows and reached out to gently stroke his hair, just how he liked it. "What is it? You're not feeling well?"

He closed his eyes and leaned into her soft touch. "Just a bit tired, honey. And a bit of a headache. Spend the whole day at the Czech border, patrolling."

Her frown deepened. "Oh no, I hope they didn't give too much of a hard time."

"Honey, the thing is I constantly feel like I-I gotta prove my worth or something. Everyone in the Army still thinks I'm a damn joke."

She shook her head. "I only hear good things about you, Elvis. Part of the reason why my father allowed me to come here on my own is because he trusts you to take care of me. Word gets around you're doing a great job serving your country."

"Definitely don't feel like it."

"My father told me he heard that you're always the first one to volunteer if there's a difficult task ahead. Always doing way more than what's asked of you."

He threw up his hands. "That's because I'm trying to do everything in my power to show them that I'm worth my salt. Gotta work ten times harder than any other G.I.!"

She carefully patted his chest, playing with the breast pocket of his jacket. "I know, it's not fair. But it's paying off, believe me. You should be proud of yourself."

He looked down at her fingers, avoiding her gaze. "Don't know."

Mary reached up to cup his chin, forcing him to look at her. "I'll get you there. I'm certainly proud of you."

He furrowed his brows and his eyes briefly welled up before he managed to catch himself again. It seemed like he wanted to say something, his mouth opened and closed multiple time before he swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down. He watched her intently for a moment before a half smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "S' good that you're here now. It's balm for the soul I'll tell ya. I already feel so much better. It's like magic." He mumbled and pressed his cheek against hers.

She giggled. "I'm no wizard, Elvis."

"Are you sure?"

She gave herself a once-over. "Last time I checked I wasn't, no."

"Maybe a little fairy then. Far more fitting. Look-wise, I mean. Although-"

"Careful, Presley." She warned jokingly and jabbed a finger against his chest, making him chuckle.

Ms. Feiner then approached them, two plates in her hands and swiftly set them down on the table with a sweet "Enjoy!" before making her way back again. Mary gave him another look and quickly kissed his cheek before sliding out of his lap onto the chair next to him. He playfully narrowed his eyes at her and pulled her chair towards him, making sure their legs were touching under the table. With a giggle she quickly started eating, feeling rather hungry because her nerves had made her skip lunch that day.

"You wanna go to the movie theatre at the base later? I'll invite some friends so I can show you off and then we'll have a nice evening, what do you think?" He asked and gently nudged her with his shoulder.

She slowly blinked at him. Actually she'd hoped to spend the evening alone with him, but the prospect of being 'shown off' sounded intriguing as well. "Uh, sure why not? Sounds fun."

He smiled at her, his mouth full and swalllwed. "Okay sweetheart, then you'll get all fixed up and I'll have someone pick you up in an hour alright? Mrs. Feiner will show you the guest room upstairs and she'll take care of ya, okay?" He lifted his fork to his mouth. "Damn, that's good." He mumbled to himself as if he hasn't eaten in years. After they both finished their plates, when Elvis finished his third portion anyway, he briefly pecked her lips again before heading off to the base again.

Mrs. Feiner took her updtairs and she quickly settled into the small guest room. She decided to call her parents to let them know that everything went well, or she'd never hear the end of it. After that she tried to calm her sudden nerves again. How would Elvis introduce her to of his friends? Who even were they? Fellow soldiers? She just hoped they'd be nice as she combed her hair, her gaze transfixed on the thin layer of snow still covering the window sill.

When she arrived at the training area about an hour later she spotted Elvis standing at the entrance of the movie theatre, along with another man and a small, brunette woman. The enthusiastic smile on Mary's face quickly died when she saw Elvis reaching out to stroke the strange girl's cheek and leaned over to softly kiss her cheek. Mary halted in her tracks, nearly stumbling over her own feet. She couldn't stop the burning feeling of jealousy coursing through her veins at the sight of him being affectionate with another woman. He had a reputation of always being very loving and warm in his interactions with the women in his life, his fans, that's at least what she knew from magazines and his many apperances on TV. But this... seemed more intimate. She didn't like it.

"Come here, Mary!" Elvis shouted and gestured around wildly. The deep breath she took formed a small, misty cloud around her face and she slowly walked towards them, careful not to slip on the frozen cobblestone ground. She tried to ignore the knot in her stomach as her eyes flickered between Elvis and the woman next to him. When she was within reach Elvis grasped her hand and turned back towards his friends. "That's her. Isn't she the cutest thing y'all ever saw?"

"Hello, I'm Elisabeth, it's so nice to meet you!" The brunette spoke up with a polite smile and a light German accent.

Mary tried to force a sweet smile as she shook her hand.

"Mary." She curtly introduced herself. The girl seemed to be nice, at least she made an effort, but Mary just couldn't bring herself to like her, no matter how hard she tried to ignore her personal feelings. She wondered if she was acting childish and tried to control the creeping feeling that maybe she did take her and Elvis' relationship more seriously that he did. Even though this was only their third time meeting each other she knew that no one ever made her feel the way he did and she was certain that no one else ever would. Her thoughts started to spiral for a horrible, incredibly long second before the other man spoke up and held out his hand as well.

"Rex, pleased to meet you."

Mary didn't look at him, her gaze fixated on the stoneground beneath her as she tried to control the chaos in her head. Elvis put his arm around her shoulders with a smile, his body pressing into hers. The feeling of his solid strength so close to her made her feel both grounded and erratic at the same time.

"Are you always this shy, Mary?" Rex inquired with a gentle smile after a few seconds of her refusing to look at him. She then absentmindedly shook his hand before it would get even more awkward.

Elvis let out a little chuckle, his body vibrating against hers. The feeling finally pulled her out of her wicked thoughts. She cleared her throat and tentitavely hugged Elvis as well, her hand gliding over his back. "Well, it's not often that you go out with a world famous celebrity, is it?" She offered and tried to look flustered instead of hurt and confused. With a flick of her wrist she carefully squeezed his side, making him jump slightly.

Elisabeth briefly touched her arm. "Don't be nervous, Mary. He's a nice man. And I should know, we're here together almost every evening." She replied with a genuine, kind smile that was probably meant to calm her.

"Is that so?" she asked and looked up at Elvis, whose face betrayed nothing, a stiff mask displaying nothing but utter neutrality. "Well then there is nothing to worry about I suppose." Mary quipped and leaned further into him.

The four of them made their way inside with Elisabeth and Rex happily chattering and leading the way. Mary barely managed to pay attention to the conversation, but politely nodded along every now and then as Elisabeth kindly linked her arms with hers and pulled her aside a bit, telling her about her stepfather being a sergeant in the Army and how he and her German mother met and got married. Elisabeth then proceeded to share the story of how she and Elvis met at this very movie theatre only a few days ago. Mary kept looking over to him, now apparently deep in a conversation with Rex. When he caught her eye he winked at her and she quickly averted her gaze again.

The auditorium was small and practical, nothing fancy, with seats that didn't look too comfortable and bare, grey walls. "I wanna sit in the back." Elvis announced and leaned in closer to Mary. "What about you, Cherry?" He whispered into her ear about a second later.

"I don't care." She replied, her expression indifferent.

He briefly frowned at her in confusion.

Elisabeth then gestured towards the seats next to her. "What about here?"

Rex nodded and Mary looked at Elvis.

"Come on then, honey." Elvis chimed in and pulled her along with him, towards the back. She turned her head and saw Elisabeth and Rex shrugging at each other as they went to sit down. Well at least she would be alone with him now, she thought as she eyes the last row where no one had sat down yet. Shortly after her and Elvis sat down, she felt him watching her intently, trying to figure out her why she's been acting so strange ever since entering the movie theatre. He was interrupted by a small group of soldiers approaching them, seemingly wanting to sit down next to them.

"Go on, get your own row, damnit!" Elvis shouted over to them, making them look at each other and shuffle away quickly.

He then let out a content sigh and put one arm around her, his hand resting at her neck. He gently smiled down at her and briefly kissed her temple. His soft, tender touches almost made her forget his earlier interaction with the German girl he apparently saw almost every evening. She still felt his gaze burning into her profile and shifted in her seat. He didn't even try to make it subtle, facing her shamlessly instead of the screen. Mary focused on keeping her breathing even and tried to act as normal as possible but despite her best efforts her head eventually turned towards him on it's own. Instead of feeling caught and looking away his eyes lit up and leaned in closer to gently bump his nose against hers.

"You're staring." She whispered.

"What, I'm not allowed to look at the prettiest girl in here?" He grinned.

She hummed, not quite believing what he said.

"What? I'm just saying how it is."

She leaned back and looked straight ahead again.

He cleared his throat. "You know, I can't help but feel like you're, uh, angry with me, honey."

"It's nothing."

His hand around her neck reached out to play with a strand of her hair, gently twirling it between his fingers. "Come on, sweetheart. You think I'm gonna fall for that? I already told ya I know everything there is to know about women."

"Really, it's nothing."

He clicked his tongue in frustration. "Stop being so stubborn. As much as I'd like to read your mind and see what's going on in that pretty little head of yours, I can't. Ya gotta help me a bit. Please, talk to me."

Mary bit her lip and looked away from him, thinking about how she should phrase what exactly bothered her. If she should tell him at all. His fingers now drew comforting circles on her arm and he was uncharacteristically patient while waiting for her to sort out her emotions. "...Alright, uh, I guess... First-" She held up a finger. "-you promised me that you'd call. Every day."

He opened his mouth.

She held up another finger, silencing him. "Second. You said 'no other girls'."

"There are no other girls, just you." He replied without hesitation.

Mary raised an eyebrow at him, her gaze flickering towards the brunette a few rows in front of them and then back to him. He lowered his face and looked at her through his lashes. "Now, don't gimme that look. Elisabeth... she's just a friend. A-And she happens to speak German, which is useful, I reckon. That's all, Cherry. Now, don't spoil the fun and be good, okay?"

She huffed. "I'm not trying to ruin the mood. And I don't want to tell you what you can and can't do. I'm not like that. Just..." She let out an exasperated sigh. "Don't make promises you can't keep."

He turned his body back towards her and gently cupped her cheek. "...A-Alright, I can see why you're mad at me. I-I get it now, trust me... I've neglected you too much. I'll make sure to take care of you more."

"Elvis, that's not-"

He lowered his head and moved to nuzzle his nose against her neck. "Mhm, that's what my widdle baby needs and what she deserves." He whispered, his hot breath ghosting over her exposed skin. It tickled her and she tightly gripped her skirt, the heavy fabric now bunched up in her fists.

"Elvis-"

He rested his chin on her shoulder. "Cherry, you're my best girl, I want you to know that."

Mary sighed and tried not to let her cheek sink into his soft hair. She failed. "...Is that true?"

He hummed and moved closer to her neck again. "S' the gospel truth, honey." With that she felt the feather light brush of his soft lips against her pulse point. She let out a small yelp when he continued peppering soft kisses along her now heated skin. He put one arm around her waist to pull her closer towards him. She could feel him grinning against her when she lifted her chin and angled her head away from him to give him easier access. While he licked, suckled and mouthed at her neck she quickly looked around the dimly lit room, relieved that no one seemed to pay attention to them. Mary had to press her legs together when his hand moved over her jaw, along her neck until it rested just below her clavicle. He could probably feel her heart beating wildly in her ribcage.

"Elvis." She whispered.

He let out a low grunt in response.

"Kiss me."

"I am." He murmured, his voice muffled.

With a playful click of her tongue she promptly moved away from him and his touch, making him whine as he tried to chase after her. She let out a small giggle at his confused face and leaned over to press her lips against his, her fingers brushing over his jaw. He laughed into the kiss before eagerly moving his mouth against hers. His hand grazed over her upper body, back to her clavicle before moving down further. Mary couldn't suppress a small groan when he attempted to slip his tongue inside her mouth and briefly squeezed her breast at the same time.

"You!" She gasped with a grin and gently tugged at his earlobe. He chuckled, his teeth clanking against hers, and boldly squeezed her breast once again. It sent shockwaves of pleasure directly into her lower belly and their lips quickly met again in an open mouthed, heated kiss. He put a hand on her knee and Mary shivered when he moved it higher and higher, fingers digging into her the supple flesh of her thigh. A small sound escaped from the back of his throat, adding to the throbbing sensation she felt. He was now dangerously close her core and just when she thought he'd touch her there and ease some of the ache, he pulled his lips away from her. When they parted they just looked at each other for a moment, both breathing heavily. His hand still soothingly rubbed over her thigh and she swallowed hard.

"All good again?" He asked with a grin, still a bit breathless.

She exhaled shakily. "Sorry, Elvis, it's just, uh, I don't know."

"Tell me, honey."

She shrugged and leaned forward to press her forehead against his. "I guess I don't know why you would want to spend time with me... I'm nothing special." She cringed at herself while saying it out loud, being openly vulnerable with others wasn't something she was particulary fond of. It's not that she didn't trust Elvis, she just preferred to deal with her emotions on her own.

He urgently hugged her closer to him. "Honey, no no no, don't say that. I don't wanna hear any of this nonsense. You have no idea how special you are to me. I-I can always talk to you a-and you never judge me. You're there when I need someone to take care of me."

"I guess." She mumbled, her eyes burning.

"You always cheer me up, honey. Lemme do the same for you now. I don't like seeing you sad. Wanna see that smile again."

She hummed and shrugged, not trusting her voice right now.

He gave her another kiss. This one was slow and sweet, his pillowy lips barely brushing against hers as he held her cheeks in his big, strong hands. Then he went on to pepper her whole face with small kisses until she couldn't stop the grin tugging at her lips. He stopped and gently ran his fingers through her hair and cupped the back of her head.

"There's that pretty smile I love so much." He mumbled.

She let out a watery laugh. "You really know how to make a girl feel good."

He bit his lip with a smile, his eyes twinkling. "Oh, my sweet Cherry, you have no idea."

Also tagging a few people who seemed to enjoy the first two parts. Please let me know if you don't want to be tagged! @godlypresley @18lkpeters @lookingforrainbows @richardslady121 @kingdomforapony @c-rosenn

[the-guilty-writer]

Criminal Minds PRIDE Fics

Well, it's the end of Pride Month. Thank you to everyone who entered fics, new or old (or both)! This was my first time hosting a writing challenge and the amount of love surrounding it was truly incredible. From the range of writers who participated, to the the types of fics, it shows just how broad this community spans. I hope all of you are well, and safe, and know that you are extremely loved ❤.

This list is not exhaustive by any means. There are many other LGBTQ+ Criminal Minds fics out there, these are just the entries for the challenge. If you have a late entry (I know I do) don't be afraid to send it in! If you sent in a fic and it is missing, let me know that too!

Please let me know if you have issues with the accessibility of this list for any reason (I used fun colors again). I am happy to provide you with an accessible format.

(once again, my favorite CM Pride gif which is actually part of a set that I need to track down and reblog later)

Fics are under the cut!

Reader Insert Fics:

Note: I tried my best to indicate reader traits to make it easier to find fics. If you find any of these to be inaccurate, please let me know and I will edit it to be correct

Spencer Reid

(In)visible by @foxy-eva: (fem!reader, bisexual!reader) There are a lot of obstacles you had to face as a queer woman but you never thought that falling in love with a man was one of them.

Bigotry Kills by @staygoldsquatchling02: (trans masculine non-binary!reader) While on a case in Tennessee, Spencer and Y/N accidentally reveal that Y/n is transgender to an unsub who has made it his mission to ride his small town of people he views as “less than himself”.

Ocean by @cinnamon-lesbian: (intersex!fem!reader) The reader can’t seem to love herself. Spencer lets her in on how amazing she really is.

I'd Better Ask Emily by Gill: (daughter!reader, lesbian!reader) When Spencer goes looking for your school notebook and accidentally reads your diary instead he goes to the BAU bisexual badass for help.

Emily Prentiss

Freedom-Seeking Hearts by @/foxy-eva: (fem!reader) For how much longer will Emily Prentiss and Fem!Reader be able to contain their freedom-seeking hearts?

Jennifer Jareau

Somewhere Underlined by @railingsofsorrow: (fem!reader) jennifer jareau would be the death of you someday, you know that and you'd probably let her. surprisingly, you weren't aware that you caused that same reaction on her, too.

Aaron Hotchner

So Much by Gill: (teen!reader) reader comes out to their dad as gay and his reaction is not what they expected.

---

Character x Character Fics:

Aaron Hotchner x Derek Morgan

second chance by @masterwords: It's time for Hotch to tell Jack about his relationship with Derek. He's understandably concerned that it could go bad, but hopefully nothing some chocolate chip pancakes won't help. (Spoiler Alert: It doesn't go bad. There are some rough patches here but this is a story with a happy ending.)

Derek Morgan x Spencer Reid

Love can rise out of the ashes by @satchels-and-socks: Spencer is heartbroken after Maeve. Spencer locks himself away and becomes a shell of his formal self. Derek realized something and is determined to show Spencer that life goes on and how someone other than Maeve is truly in love with him.

Jennifer Jareau x Emily Prentiss

The Way You Felt by @andiebeaword: While on a flight to help Spencer, exes J.J. and Emily ultimately come to terms with their buried feelings.

Jennifer Jareau x Tara Lewis

Soft & Sweet by @/foxy-eva: A confession between JJ and Tara leads to a night full of soft and sweet moments. (includes smut, 18+, minors DNI)

Emily Prentiss x Clara Seger

I Felt a Million Things When I First Met You by @baubeautyandthegeek: The one where Emily finally comes clean about just how come Clara’s always so willing to help.

Spencer Reid x Aaron Hotchner

There Are Secrets That We Still Have Left To Find (on Ao3) by @starzzyeyed: Spencer Reid is seven years old the first time he comes out to anyone. Three times Spencer comes out, across three different points in his life, all with three very different outcomes.

[stingraywipe]

Hey! Here's a little thing I wrote for @sincerely-sofie 's The Present is a Gift AU with her characters Twig and Kip. I wanted to get it out sooner, but alas life happened and I was unable to work on it as much as a wanted to. This is also the first time I've done any sort of creative writing in years, so hopefully it isn't too bad. Anyways, here it is! I hope you like it :)

The Sunrise

It was dawn when Kip woke up. It was rather early and he was still tired, but he rolled out of bed to go check on Twig. He knew she probably wanted her space, but he couldn’t help worrying about her more than usual after the previous few days’ events. He yawned and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, then quietly cracked open the door of Twig’s room. His heart skipped a beat when he saw that she wasn’t there. He rubbed his eyes again to make sure he was seeing right. Yup. Twig wasn’t there. Feeling panic begin to set in, Kip took a moment to breath and recollect himself.

“Calm down, there’s NO need to be freaking out about this,” he thought. “Twig likes going on walks when she needs to clear her head, or if she wants to be alone to think on something. She’s probably just doing that. She’s been through a ton the past few days, so it makes sense that she would want to do that. She’ll probably be back here soon.”

Despite knowing that, Kip decided to make a quick check outside anyway. He was already pretty awake after the initial shock of Twig’s absence, and taking a look couldn’t hurt. Maybe he could watch the sunrise while he was out there. He hadn’t done that in a while, and it would be a good way to unwind for a bit after the stress of the past week.

Apparently Twig had the same idea, because she was already sitting near the edge of the cliff looking off into the distance. She was visibly ok, and even seemed less tense than she had been recently. Despite this, Kip felt the need to make sure she was actually fine. He knew too well how Twig feels the need to hide anything that ails her from everyone no matter how serious it is, so it was going to take more than just visual evidence to convince him.

“How’ve you been holding up?” Kip asked as he approached. Twig jumped a little and spun her head around, relaxing again once she realized it was just him.

“Jeez dude, you scared me! Did you have to sneak up on me like that?”

“Oh no, I didn’t mean to startle you!” Kip responded. He hurried over to where Twig was and sat down next to her. “I just wanted to check up on how you were doing. I saw you weren’t in you room and I-”

Twig cut him off. “Relax man, I’m just giving you a hard time.” She gave him a playful punch to the arm. “And, umm. I’ve definitely been better. I think I’ve cried more than enough for an entire lifetime over the past few days. Maybe even two lifetimes. I didn’t even know fire types were capable of producing that much water.”

Kip chuckled at that. “Yeah, but it needed to happen, you know. That’s what you get for being silly and stupid and somehow convincing yourself that none of us like you.”

Twig sighed. “I know, I know, you’re right. It doesn’t mean I have to like it though. It’s physically AND mentally exhausting.”

“I feel you there. I feel worn out, and I haven’t cried anywhere near as much as you!”

“Yup. I totally have you beat.”

Kip gave her a baffled look. “Are you seriously bragging about how you’ve cried more than me?”

“I sure am. I gotta take my wins when I can get ‘em.”

He burst out laughing at that. “Well, if your jokes are anything to go off of, I’d say you’re holding up pretty well. Seems to me like the funny Twig I know and love is finally starting to come back. I guess I was worried about nothing.”

Twig shrugged. “I guess.” 

Neither one of them said anything else for a while. They sat in silence and watched the sun slowly climb higher on the horizon. It was one of the sunrises with lots of pink mixed in with the oranges and yellows; the kind that Twig loved the most. The sea below them glistened like gemstones, with rolling waves that shimmered in the bright light. Kip had almost forgotten how beautiful the sunrise was at Sharpedo Bluff. Sure, he could watch the sunrise when he was away on his expedition, but they just weren’t the same there as they were here. Besides, he was with Twig now, which made it even better.  

Kip smiled. “I missed this,” he murmured.

“Missed what?” Twig asked.

“This. Watching the sunrise with you. Going on walks. Just talking. You know, enjoying the little things in life with you.”

“Dude, you know you can still do those things without me right?”

“I guess, but they wouldn’t be the same. You’re what makes them special.”

They were both quiet for a bit. Twig was first to speak again. “Dang, I really messed up a lot of stuff with my dumb thoughts then. Sorry about that.”

“How many times do I have to tell you to stop apologizing for that!?” Kip responded. “None of us blame you for any of that stuff. If anything, it’s MY fault for not doing anything sooner despite seeing through all of your terrible lies. Besides, it’s in the past now. All we can do is focus on what we can do now, in the present.”

“I guess you’re right.” she said. “You know dude, if you really wanted to hang out with me THAT badly, you could’ve just asked.”

“Ok, noted. You’d better be prepared for lots of requests then if that’s what it’s gonna take.” Kip glanced over at Twig. Her expression was a bit troubled, as if she was contemplating something he had said. Seeing that, he nudged her and spoke again. 

“You know I meant it right? What I said before.” 

Twig turned her head to look at him. “What? The part about how me being there somehow makes things better?”

“Yeah, that one. I want to make sure that sticks with you, because you seem to be quick to forget it. You’re an amazing person. I know it’s hard for you to see it right now, but we all really do care for you more than you could imagine. And it doesn’t matter how long it takes you to convince yourself of all that, because all of us are happy to remind you as many times as it takes. Nothing you think or say or do will ever change that.”

Twig’s eyes started watering at that. “Seriously dude,” she croaked. “I was just complaining about how I was tired of crying. Did you really have to go and make me-”

Kip pulled her into a hug, cutting her off. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me Twig. You always will be. Please don’t ever forget that.”

They stayed like that for a while. Kip held Twig there for as long as she needed to cry. After a bit, Twig slowly pulled away and took a moment to wipe the tears out of her eyes and regain her composure. 

“You good now?” Kip asked her.

“Yeah, I think so. I think I actually feel a bit better than before, funny enough.” She shifted her gaze back to the horizon, where the sun had climbed a bit higher over the ocean. They sat there quietly, simply enjoying each other’s presence. For the first time in a while, it seemed as if everything was truly at peace. 

Twig eventually broke the silence. “You know what? I missed this a lot too. This is nice.”

“Yeah,” Kip said, nodding in agreement. “This is nice.”

[nagitosasshole]

𝑩𝒐𝒅𝒚 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑩𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒅

Vampire Copia / Papa Emeritus IV

(Dracopia)               x reader 

𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤:

◇ Mentions of the Sibling from the first chapter (Meaning mentions of gore. If you haven't read the first chapter, I will try to link it) ◇

◇ Descriptions of sadness, fear, isolation, etc (If you're not in the right headspace for that, please look out for yourself!) ◇

◇ Copia isn't depicted as a 'soft' vampire ◇ 

◇ This is not a 'dark' Copia fic, he's still babey, i just like inflicting trauma upon the characters i write :^) ◇ 

◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇

this chapter includes the ghost fandoms fave tool- google translate!!

yea so sorry bout the obligatory poorly translated italian but im not italian so-

translations will be added at the end

(and further apologizes if copia is out of character. this is just how i think they'd talk / react to things)

thanks!! 

-

ali

◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇

◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇☆☆☆☆☆☆☆Chapter☆2☆☆☆☆☆☆☆◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇

I stare blankly into my mirror; finally uncovered after nearly a month. The blanket I used to cover it lays damp and discarded on the ground beside my feet, the steam from my shower still clinging to the fuzzy material. With a sigh, I kick the bundle of fabric away, not wanting to even see it. 

Maybe I just need something to vent my emotions, but even my tiny fit leaves me with nothing. Looking back into the mirror I only get the same sunken-eyed, tired face as before.

The droopy, blank expression I've been sporting for the last few weeks is in stark contrast to what it's like internally. 

It's almost funny, really. Inside, my thoughts run rampant, never ceasing from day to day. Endlessly plagued by what I saw and the loss of the only friends I had. Just too much. Always too much.

But outside, you'd be lucky to pinpoint any emotion other than pure exhaustion. I wonder if that will be the case when I see Copia…

Maybe I'll finally show just how much I've missed him, or maybe show my mortification, maybe- maybe I'll even give him one of those terrible wide grins I do when I'm anxious enough. 

Or maybe the sight of him will leave me speechless, making the month's worth of pain and fear come pouring out as I helplessly cling to him-

In turn, clinging to what scraps are left of my normalcy.

I choke a dry sigh from my unused throat as I half heartedly untangle my hair with my fingers, hissing every now and then when my fingers get caught in my messy hair. Afterwards, I brush my teeth and wash my face once more. Having washed it in the shower doesn't feel like enough. I have time to spare before 9:00…another wash couldn't hurt. Maybe then I'll look less pale and more lively. As if I haven't been locked up in my room for a month. 

Once I'm finished, I send my reflection one last empty look before leaving the bathroom, making my way to my closet in search of clothing. Messily routing through my closet,  I find a plain black dress. I send my habit a fleeting glance before quickly looking back to the soft black fabric in my hands. I'm definitely not wearing my habit. 

I don't think I can bear to.

Luckily, the other Siblings will be retired to their rooms by then… 

Hopefully, I'll be unspotted on my way to Copia's room, especially out of uniform. 

With a sigh, I sling the dress over my shoulder and grab my socks and shoes, lazily taking them to the bathroom with me. I set my socks and shoes on the counters neatly, dress folded beside them. Once there's no more needless straightening I can do, i send my clothing one last look before slipping into the empty bathtub. 

my skin slides against the slick surface of the tub still dotted with water from my shower. I plug the tub and fill it with water, trying to pad out my time and keep myself as occupied as possible until 9- deciding that if I were to wear a dress, I'd need to shave my legs even though neither of us will even notice. I just want to feel in control, like I actually look like a person when I see him. 

I crane my neck against the back of my tiny bathtub, head rolling to the side to glance at my dress as my wrist lazily drags the razor against my calves. 

'he likes that one on me…' I drawl out dryly in my head, unable to help the memory of Copia not so subtly stumbling over himself to awkwardly compliment my attire. Muttering under his breath, "Assomigli a Lilith stessa…"

Quick to catch himself, he stumbled out a response that if talking to anyone else but me would make them cringe, 

"E-eh, do not worry about that. I meant to say…you look nice, lovely- Lovely in your dress."

Finishing off his rushed-out compliment with his signature awkward 'eheheh'. 

The memory makes my cheeks flush like it did back then, feeling as if I were a schoolgirl as I force my gaze away from the folded dress. In recent time, when I think of him the blush still follows as it always has- only now followed with an undercurrent of shame. I should be thinking of my fellow Sibling who lost their life. I should be praying for them more, praying that their soul may find peace through their cruel and painful death. 

I'm truly terrible, I know it.

I shouldn't be thinking of better times, face flushing as I helplessly picture the Copia I knew. My face flushes hot with shame as tears prick my eyes, arms firmly locked around my aching knees as I attempt to will my thoughts away.

I can feel the regret and sorrow for my departed Sibling bubbling in my chest, making my heart pound hard and fast against my knees until I have to rest my dizzied head against my knees. 

Funny.

I didn't think I had anymore tears in me. 

◇

Getting ready surprisingly was a breeze. No distractions as I got my clothing in order, deciding that I shouldn't put too much into my appearance. The sole reason being that I just can't. There's a heavy weight in my soul that no cleaning up with decent clothing can hide. Besides, Copia would see right through it. He always has. 

So,

Pointless.

With a weak huff, I stuff my phone under my arm, not really seeing the point in bringing a bag with me to carry the one thing. I pick at and click my nails together as I struggle to steel my nerves, eyes stuck on the door in front of me. 

My nails need to be clipped…

Haven't done anything to them in a month or so. Too long and uneven for my tastes. 

Some are long, longer than even I would like while others are chewed to points, some chewed down to nothing.

Bad. Very bad.

Maybe I should go fix them. I mean, it would only take a min-

No.

No.

Stop it.

Just get it over with.

He's Copia. Your friend.

You can trust him.

I set my jaw in place and grab my doorknob, opening it in a way that would look a whole lot more confident if not for the trembling in my hand.

'I hate this', I humorlessly laugh in my head, body rigid as I glance around the halls.  No sign of any of the ghouls…

Good. Very good. 

I never thought that after everything I've gone through that the ghouls- my friends would make me feel so naked, so exposed. I feel helpless. 

The walk to Copia's quarters is a long one if you're a sibling, but I know the route like the back of my hand. Only serving to make that tight, ever expanding balloon of dread in my stomach feel like it will pop any moment. I know I'm getting closer, I know it. 

'My Lorde, I'm sorry for bothering you, but please look after me tonight. I am lost…please allow me to understand all of this…' my pathetic prayer trails off and dies upon it's arrival, mind overtaken by the sight of Copia's door. (yes, he has a door in this. sorry I don't want this super serious conversation to be heard by Jesus down the hall/j) 

Fuck.

I'm really fucked, aren't I?

Biting down on the inside of my lip hard, I taste pennies as I turn the knob, letting my hand rest in a twisted position for a moment before I finally push on the knob, opening the door with a slow and deafening creak. 

I'm sure I look as meek as I feel as the soft glow of candlelight lightly illuminates my figure, the faint draw of my brows together the only traces of emotion on my face despite my eyes telling everything my face cannot. My eyes scan over his dim room before skidding to a halt. 

There he is.

After all this time.

He stands with a stiff pose, his underhand clenched around the rounded tip of his cane, his upper hand draped over the other lightly in a loose hold. Glancing over the cane, I recognize it from a portrait Sister had done when he was Cardinal and freshly introduced as a leader. I haven't seen that in so long…it feels so familiar yet alien at the same time. 

His pose exudes faux power, but the subtle shifting of his legs and the way his Adam's apple bobs up and down as he tries to will down his anxiety makes it apparent that he's still the same Copia he was back when he was the Cardinal. 

He's only gotten better at making a show- being a Papa. But he's still the same. It's apparently in all the tiny clues on his body. Even the way his eyes shake ever so subtly as he forces himself to hold eye contact. 

But it still infuriates a small part of me. 

It makes me want to walk over and shake him, make him act like a normal fucking person again. His poorly strewn-together Papa personality makes my heart sink and blood boil.

It makes me question why the fuck he even wrote that letter if he's not even going to pretend like he's himself. Acting like I'm just a Sibling, as if I was an underling and I didn't know Copia, I knew Papa. It makes me sick.

More so than anything, the way silence blankets us, gripping us both in silent mortification as we stare into each other's eyes. The same thought running through both of our minds. 

They were so young. Came to this ministry to escape a volatile life, to leave their horrible family in search of a truly understanding one. They found their true family here. Friends, even. They were happy, and always kind to everyone. They vowed their loyalty to the very man who promised a life ripe with pleasures, wealth, and love if only they gave themselves over to their dark Lorde and their Papa- 

The man who consumed their mared flesh out of wild hunger. 

The memory of my fallen Sibling makes my eyes sting, giving me an excuse to look away from his own.

He's asked me to come here, and he wants to seem more put together than he really is. Almost like he thinks I won't want Copia after all these years of us growing closer, only Papa Emeritus IV, the newest, freshest Papa. 

Maybe it's that he's doing this for himself, perhaps to be "strong". It's sad how far he still sinks into his insecurities, even after all these years of me building him up. It's like a moment alone can still make him crumble under the weight of expectations and pretend to be anyone other than himself, at least mostly. 

Sometimes I wonder if he knows Copia.

This is the first time he's asked for my presence since I found out about his little predicament- what he did, accidentally or not. It feels strange how we spent nearly every moment either of us wasn't swamped with work in each other's presence for the better part of 6 years, only to be completely void of interaction for a month. It feels empty without him, I regrettably decided almost immediately.

I admittedly regret that after only a week of fleeting looks and poorly placed letters, I gave up. My chest hurt nearly everyday, pushed forward only by sparse, short letters he'd write back- hardly half of them did he respond. 

When I'd see him return a letter, it filled me with as much excitement as it did pure dread. 

He didn't even sound like himself in his notes. Hardly a hint of fondness or affection my usually starved brain can pick at. 

'Perhaps he's as much of a coward as I am,' I'd think to myself, thoughts halting for a moment before I'd let myself give into my (then) weeks-long soured mood, dryly continuing with, 'Too scared to be rejected in person, or maybe he just doesn't want to see me. I don't blame him.'

My sourness doesn't last long.

It never does. 

It only helps me disguise how truly lost and saddened I feel by my closest companion's departure - by such a catastrophic reveal, no less. 

It's laughable how I should fear him, only for the lingering dread and terror twisting in my empty tummy to be from the thought of our connection being severed.

The thought of being without him. 

  

I'm a terrible person.

"Sister."

I shouldn't be sad for myself.

"Sister."

I can feel him staring at me, I should say something.

"Sister."

At least look at him. Do something-

"Sister!"

I choke out a muted gasp as my eyes dart up to his, body ridged from surprise as my eyes become blurry. His eyes soften immediately at the sight, shoulders slumping from their forced position as he calls out again, softer.

"Sister, please look at me."

I force myself to keep my gaze up as I will down the tears that threaten to spill. It's just too much. The pain, the anxiety, the past weeks, the memories, his eyes, his voice, his mere presence- 

I block out my thoughts completely, doing my best to lock away my emotions and thoughts as I stare up at him. With a voice that sounds foreign to even myself, I speak, "Sorry, Papa." 

That was it. I couldn't think of anything else to say, and really, what could I say? An emotionless apology that says everything and nothing. What I was truly apologizing for, I don't know, but I silently praise the dark Lorde for the fact my apology counts as a response. 

Copia's brows raise and furrow into a look of sympathy, the action making the already deep wrinkles in his forehead all the more apparent. I curse the part of me that wants to press my thumb between his brows to softly smooth against his worried flesh, but I scream at the smaller part of me that wants to smack that sympathetic look off his face. 

Neither reaction is appropriate or right. 

I fucking hate my brain. 

"Sister, i-" Copia halts, brows digging downward, seemingly in distaste before smoothing back into a hesitant expression as he continues, "I want to apologize, (reader). I have kept much from you…" He dryly licks at his painted lips. A nervous habit of his. "I never- I want to tell you that I never wanted you to find out like this. Eh, at all, actually. I- I did not mean it like that-" He cuts himself off with a choked 'eheheh' as he stiffens, coming off far more nervous than he intended. 

He stops himself from rambling again,  frozen in place as he looks to the side, trying his hardest to find the best sentence he can before ultimately scrapping every rough draft his brain conjures. With an internal sigh, he abandons his cane against the side of a nearby shelf and takes a tentative step to me.

His eyes hold mine, but it's not like before- No, his eyes are soft and honest. 

That is not the look of a Papa.

That's the look of Copia. 

I audibly choke back the noises the efforts to hold back my tears cause, the soft straining in my throat noticeable to both of us despite my blank expression. I let him speak.

I want to understand.

He hesitantly reaches forward and gently clasps his larger hand under my own, lifting it up between the two of us as he lightly wraps his other hand utop mine, effectively blanketing my trembling hand with the warmth his leather gloves provide. The way he touches me as if my body is as fragile as my emotional state makes me want to break down right then, to cry until he wraps his arms around me and lets me let it all out- But I don't say anything, not yet.

The only evidence that I'm listening is the few stray tears that fall without my consent. 

"Ti prego, perdonami…Mi dispiace tanto, amico mio…" His eyes shine as he stares into my eyes, the candlelight making them look impossibly glossy as he leans down. He makes a point to bow to my level instead of lifting my hand to his lips, an apology. I feel the traces of his newly grown mustache against my skin, making my paled skin feel hypersensitive to his touch.

I remember when he shaved it.

When he became Papa.

I remember being so distraught over his new face, the loss of his pouty lips, rounded face, but most of all… that wonderful, strong, pointy nose of his and that pencil mustache.

I remember playfully lamenting the loss of his mustache to him and any ghoul that would listen, flooring him since I never did have the courage to compliment it like I wanted to until it was sadly gone. 

He started growing it back a few weeks later. Shaving it periodically when he had to go on tour so he wouldn't have to fight to hide it beneath his opaque papal paints, only to grow it back when he came back home. 

Proudly showing it off when he had his informal paints on around me.

It was endearing, to say the least.

My breath hitches harshly in my throat but neither of us dare make mention of it. I can only stare as his lips linger against my chilled skin, only now gaining some warmth and life. 

I can't help the tears that slip past me as I silently watch him, his words replaying in my mind as my tears softly pelt against his soft brunette hair. 

It would be too much if not for the fact he's here, he's touching me, the real him. I can't bear to pull away from him in fear of him disappearing from my life again, leaving me lost and confused. 

"Non ti merito-" His lips lifts from my skin only long enough to speak, quickly moving forward to press another light kiss to my flesh.

"Mi dispiace-" another small peck, lingering only a bit longer than the previous.

"Sono come sono-" Another, now moving to the bend of my hand, teasing at my wrist as he gently turns my hand.

"Perdonami per favore…per favore…" He whispers out with a wavering tone as he presses a kiss to my now exposed wrist, lingering there with the softest of pressure as he takes in the feeling of my heartbeat. 

Silence blankets us once more as I stare down at him, lashes damp and heavy as my hand shakes in his loose hold. The sight of him as he finally looks up at me makes fresh tears spring in my eyes. His eyes are wet and glossy with unshed tears as his hand lightly twitches against mine, subconsciously seeking the comfort I usually offer him.  

I give his hand a pitiful squeeze. Hardly enough to even be called a squeeze, but it's all I can manage. 

My body feels like lead. As If I could fall, yet stay frozen forever. I feel like fucking shit. 

But even at the tiniest of comforts, his eyes widen almost comically. 

His cheeks move subtly at his attempt to voice something, but it dies before he can even try to entertain whatever is going through his head. Instead, he squeezes back, eyes telling me everything I need to know. 

There's a drawn out silence before I suddenly speak up. Voice meek and pitchy.

"I know…I know you d-" my voice stops, cracking pathetically in my tight throat. "You didn't…mean to. You-" My eyes dart up to look at him, only to have to look back at his chest instantly. His expression is too much. 

"You're not…a monster…"

Silence. Pure silence. 

"You didn't…" I shake my head in a useless attempt to rid myself of the memory of that Sibling. Eyes stinging as my throat squeezes around my words. "I-"

With that, a choked sob rips it's way up my throat, forcing itself to be acknowledged as I lean my head against Copia's chest. My other hand reaches up to blindly grip onto his papal robe as my other holds onto his as if he'd disappear. I incoherently sob out apologies to my departed Sibling and pathetic 'I miss you's' to Copia as he wraps his arms around me. 

He only quietly shushes me when my shaking or cries become too much, only to calm me and keep me away from a worse breakdown. His free hand softly smooths over my hair, the familiar feeling of leather calming me and making me think of better times. 

He leans down and rests his nose against the top of my head, pressing a tiny kiss there as he inhales my hair's freshly washed scent- surely seeking comfort of his own. 

After a while of him holding me, he reluctantly parts, speaking in a soft voice, "You are alright, Tesoro?"

I only give an unconvincing nod in response. He gives a hesitant nod in return, licking at his lips again as he gives my hand a squeeze with both his hands. "Do…you wish to know everything?"

I nod.

He takes a long, silent breath in before speaking again. His voice is plain and stable as he says, "Then I will tell you everything, Mia cara."

◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇

◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇

Translation notes:

◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇

____________________

Assomigli a Lilith stessa 

-

You look like Lilith herself

_____________________

Ti prego, perdonami…Mi dispiace tanto, amico mio

-

Please forgive me...I am so sorry, my friend

______________________________

Non ti merito

-

I do not deserve you

_________________

Mi dispiace

-

I'm sorry

_____________

Sono come sono

-

I am as I am (yes, i meant to write it that way. meant in the way someone would say "i am sorry i am the way that i am")

_______________________________

Perdonami per favore…per favore…

-

Forgive me, please...please...

_______________________________

Tesoro

-

Treasure (treasure being the most solid meaning, while some say it loosely means or translates to sweetheart, darling, honey / hunny. General terms of endearment, but I meant it as sweetheart. Treasure also works. I am not Italian)

_______________________________

Mia cara

-

My dear (feminine)

________________

(italian readers PLEASE help)

◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇

additional notes:

◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇

ah the drama!! it is s p i c y!!

and by spicy i mean s a d, but fun either way :^D 

hope y'all enjoy my amateur attempt at writing enough to stick around for the next part. i'd amaze me,, but i'd be eternally grateful.

okie dokie then,, thanks so reading all the way through!! 

thanks ghesties!! 

-

ali.

◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇

[tiny-cloud-of-flowers]

a flower, returned (Clio/Aria)

A scene that takes place just after Aria is brought back to Daybreak Town by Clio, who wishes to finally reunite her with the piece of herself she had kept safe all this time. (1293 words) This piece is part of the Darkling AU, and directly follows my previous piece of writing for this selfship. Originally written for a "Welcome back kiss" prompt.

Tag list: @starlit-selfships | @edencantstopfallininlove | @yoomtahsgf | @sunlight-ships | @dragonsmooch | @thatslikesometaldude | @artificervaldi | @keyblade-ships (to be tagged in future work, please see this form!)

(Anyone is welcome to comment on and/or reblog my work, as long as my DNI is respected! A transcript of the document is under the readmore.)

The late morning sun had filled Clio's bedroom with light and warmth in the time since she had left it, but her first act upon getting back was to go over and pull the navy curtains closed, letting soothing shade settle over the space instead. Aria had kept close behind her the whole time, not only to hopefully be safer if she happened to be spotted on the way back, but also to simply appreciate the feeling of finally having someone else close by again.

"You can just sit down on my bed if you want." Clio was saying. "You look exhausted."

"Oh.. Thank you.." Aria quickly came over to perch on the end of the bed, watching as the room became darker and subsequently much easier to see in. This was her first time being invited into Clio's bedroom, so she was taking time to examine her surroundings - it was an open and spacious room with ample wardrobe space built into the wall near the doorway. A jewellery stand adorned with a number of pretty accessories stood on the dresser, and a many-flowered jasmine plant was growing in a terracotta pot sat next to it. It was this that she was staring at when Clio finished closing the curtains.

"I picked that one up from a shop not too far from here, back when I was out with some of the others." she explained, speaking up to fill the silence once she saw where Aria was looking. "I read that they don't like too much sunlight all at once, so I put it on the dresser in case today's mission took a while, and.. I mean, I don't want to jinx it, but it seems to be doing pretty well where I've left it!"

"Yes." Aria stated. "Constant light can be damaging in excess."

"Say, you wouldn't happen to know what this flower means, would you?" Clio asked casually, knowing the affinity she had always had for flower language.

There was then a long pause.

"..I can't remember." she admitted, and looked awfully downtrodden at the fact.

"Oh, that's alright!" Clio smiled to try and ease tension again. "It might say in the book I got, actually, so- don't worry!"

This did little to reassure her partner. "..I should be able to remember. No- I should be able to know. It's.. not good that I can't.."

In return, Clio couldn't help but be confused by her wording. "You should be able to? Did the.. do you think the darkness affected your memory?"

"Less memory, more.. instinct." Aria stated. Then she stopped. A lump caught in her throat, and Clio could see tears starting to form in her eyes again.

"Ari.."

"I have already lost so much.." she began to mumble, voice wavering now as she brought a clawed hand to where her heart would be. "I don't want- I refuse to let anything else of what I am be taken away. Whether by darkness, light, or any other aspect."

Clio opened her mouth to speak, but found she could not find the right words, so she settled for coming over and sitting on her bed next to Aria instead.

"..It'll be okay." she tried again. "You're back in Daybreak Town now."

"..A world of Dandelions, now." she muttered back. "The darkness was not safe for you, and it took something from me. But now, I fear the light here is not safe for me, for how much of it's present here."

Clio couldn't help but feel sad again at that, and reached out to take Aria's hand again, gently running her thumb over the hard parts of her claws, painfully aware of how cold she now was to the touch. In return, Aria simply leaned over to rest her head on Clio's shoulder, away from the spikes of her armour, tilting her wing to embrace her, trying to sense what warmth she still could.

There was a long, but not uncomfortable, silence as the two sat there together side-by-side.

It was Clio who spoke up again to break the silence, as a soft thought settled in her mind.

"Hey, um- There's something I've been meaning to give back to you."

"Mm..?"

Aria tilted her head in confusion as she watched Clio get off of the bed again, this time moving to the table right beside it. On it lay many items one would expect to find in such a spot - an alarm clock, a glass of water, a small pile of scrunchies and hairbands - but also a crown of clovers, woven together in a delicate yet strong wreath that Clio could gladly put back on her head now that she no longer needed to wear her helmet. However, before she did that, she set about dismantling her regalia, removing pieces of it one at a time and carefully setting them down on the floor away from Aria. Finally, her upper half was free of it, showing off her arms as all she was wearing underneath was a black short-sleeved shirt.

Even so, as she turned around, it could be seen that something was still fastened to her chest, right over her heart.

The flower still held the same softness and health as it had when it was gifted, all that time ago before the war - that much could be clearly discerned from the soft shine of its five pale pink petals. Two green leaves curled out from underneath the petals, one sitting just on top of the other, both pointing downwards like overlapping clock hands.

It was not just any cherry blossom, though that was clearly evident from its size - but above any other ways it stood out, it was her flower, a part of her still wholly untainted and free of the weight that the realm of darkness had worn the rest of her down with. A part of her willingly given up to someone who did not even know its true meaning, yet accepted it and treasured it for what it still was - who yet accepted her and treasured her for who she still was - nevertheless.

"You kept it.." was all that Aria could say, taking in the meaning of what she saw with an aura of what seemed like disbelief. She tentatively stood up from the bed to try and get a closer look.

"Of course I did." Clio said reassuringly, lifting the flower from her chest so that it could be put in its rightful place. "It was all I had left of you, and it was a promise that you would come back - so, how could I have not?"

"You really- I- I don't know what to say-" Aria's voice was now shaking with emotion, but she was interrupted when Clio reached out and pulled her cold body into an embrace, carefully placing the flower back where it belonged in the process with her other hand.

There was a moment of pause, as the flower settled back and found the rest - and then all Clio felt was a veritable glow of warmth and love as she held Aria close. She gently eased out of the hug, but only to get to be able to look down and see those catlike eyes of bright amber staring up at her - those eyes that held a visceral, and powerful, and yet no less adoring sense of life behind them now. Despite what the realm of darkness had done to her, and turned her into how she now appeared, no part of her seemed monstrous, anymore.

With a relieved and loving smile, all she could do was lean down and give her girlfriend a kiss on the lips.

"Welcome back, Aria."

[galaxythreads]

Heyo! love your work and I've run into a bit of a writing pickle and wanted another opinion: you see, I'm about 200k into a fic at the moment and pushing that number any higher is like pulling teeth. Have you ever chewed a piece of food for so long that it becomes entirely unappetizing? Yeah, that's about where I'm at with this story right now. The concept and story beats are still, in the abstract, interesting to me but the physical act of writing is near torturous. Have you ever ended up in a situation like that? How do you maintain momentum and find joy in working on a project that is no longer interesting by sheer virtue of overexposure?

Hi! Great question! Thanks so much for trusting me with this. <3

First, Ive gotta commend you for writing something that long. That's absolutely incredible. In all my years as a fic writer, Ive never written anything over like 170k. Ever. So amazing. Fantastic. Wonderful. You deserve to be recognized for what an amazing achievement that is. I'm proud of you.

Second: yes, Ive had this. A lot of you probably don't remember this, but I started the Blodig Skog and got like 4 chapters in before just stopping completely. The world I'd built exhausted me and I didn't want anything to do with it anymore. I thought about deleting the story. I thought about posting the ending. I thought a lot about what I was doing wrong to make me hate it. (Nothing. I was just overworked)

Ultimately, after trying a lot of writing tricks and tips, what actually helped was taking a hiatus for over a year. I didn't think about it. I didn't write in it. It just existed along side me. After the break, I came back, I reread what I had in it's entirety, reread the plan, and then started writing. I finished it in less than two months after that. That story was one is the worst to get through. I hated it at first. There were a lot of concepts I liked and I still wanted to do, but, as you said, it was near torturous to work on it before I took the hiatus.

So don't.

Don't work on it.

You don't have to. Fics are meant to be fun. You always have the option of coming back and finishing it later. Maybe you can take those ideas and use them in another fic. You're allowed to reuse ideas and concepts as many times as you want to.

You need a break. Stop holding the fic so close to your face. As frustrated as you are, it's probably hard to remember why you enjoyed working on this fic in the first place. I know I did with the Blodig Skog. Time will offer perspective. Maybe you'll figure out how to finish it, maybe you'll figure out what's making you hate it.

I wrote the rest of the Blodig Skog in two months because I wanted to. The joy of working on that story was unlike anything I can describe to you, but it was only because I stopped working on it after my mind begged me to. That hiatus saved the story, and I mean that genuinely. Sometimes keeping momentum means we give ourselves time to breathe instead of trying to push through the entire time.

So please, please give yourself a break. And I mean a break. A minimum of a month, ideally between 3-6 months. Then you can come back and reread and try writing again. Your brain is telling you something - I do not want to work on this, I am tired, please stop - and you should listen.

I am so, so, so proud of you for getting this far, please give yourself some rest. The fic will still be there. Write down any plan details you might forget and then stop for a while.

Let me know if you need clarification or want me to answer this another way, I'd be happy to help. Hopefully this was a little helpful.

[astral-athame]

((Life for me has pretty much been: Wake up at 8am. Desperately try to get more sleep until 9 (usually I doze off for, like, 2 or 3 minutes at a time and that's it). Get ready for work. Leave between 9:30 and 9:45. Work from 10-1:30-ish (it's supposed to be until 1:15 but I'm never out of there on time). Get home around 1:45. Leave for work part 2 around 2:30. That goes from at least 3-7, usually closer to 7:20 when I finally leave (sometimes stay until 8 or 9). Get home between 7:30 and 7:45. Make a quick dinner, shower, etc. Around 8:30, watch Ba.tt.le.st.ar Gal.act.ica with a couple of friends (if things work out, this couple may eventually be more than just my friends, but we'll see how that goes ^^;) until about 10:30, then chat with them for a bit after that, usually until almost 11. Bedtime routine (wash face, brush teeth, etc etc). Then stare at drafts until midnight when I realize I need to get to bed because I know I'll be up earlier than I need to be. Then the weekends have consisted a lot of babysitting, running errands, and trying to finish unpacking here and there because it's been 4 months and finding time to unpack has been a pain in the ass with everything that's constantly going on. Also, I spent 3 hours on Saturday putting together a kitchen cabinet- thankfully we have extra screwdrivers because the phillip's-head screwdriver they included was such bad quality that it was messed up and unusable less than half an hour in because the metal of it was so soft -_-

ANYWAY- Work both shifts the rest of the week (except Friday, but only because I don't have to do the second shift, still have the first). Saturday we're going out for my dad's birthday (which was actually last week, but we couldn't make things work for going out last weekend like we'd wanted to). Saturday night is also game night, as usual. Then Sunday I *should* have some free time, but I also desperately need to get some cleaning done that's being semi-neglected throughout the week. So what I'm saying is Sundays are chore days.

If things go well, I should, soon, only be working the first shift in another week or two (with the second shift just being Fridays and when absolutely needed)? Right now both my sister and I are stuck doing the second shift every night (and have been since before mid-winter break last month) because the custodial staff is down two people (one girl broke her leg and has been out since October, I think? And the other has been on temporary (paid) probation since early February while they consider whether or not to fire him and go through all the legal jargon of all of that). But they should be coming to a decision about that soon, I would hope, which would mean that if he gets to come back, then we won't be working nights unless someone calls out. And if he doesn't come back, then they should be hiring someone to fill his place so we'll just have to wait until someone snags the job (hopefully, in that case, they'll offer it to my sister first because usually they try to offer it to substitutes and she really wants it, but we'll see). They're also slowly running out of budget for substitutes, so, that's something to consider, too.

ANYWAY- TL;DR: I've basically had no writing time / personal time and that's why I've not been around. Hopefully work stuff will calm down soon because leaving the house around 9:30am and not really getting to be home until usually after 7:30pm (sometimes 8:30pm or 9:30pm) has been exhausting ^^;

I'll try to be around on Sunday (probably focus on Rogue's blog because I've been writing the fic in my head at work most nights so I have a lot of muse for her AND her blog has been sorely neglected for at least a few months now WHICH MAKES ME SO MAD AT MYSELF). If I can even get one or two asks done, then I'll consider that an accomplishment at this point!

I'm so sorry about the long absence. I'm sorry to everyone for neglecting replies. I'm sorry to everyone I was writing with and haven't had the time / social and physical energy / emotional capacity to reach back out to in a while. That's on me. I dropped the ball on that. I've never been good at ooc communication anyway, tbh. I was really hoping things would be a little bit calmer after I moved, but instead they went in exactly the opposite direction and haven't really slowed down any since November. In fact, they've just gotten more hectic over the last few months ^^;

I adore you all so much and I really do hope that I can get back to writing soon. I've been missing it (and all of you) terribly.

Take care and I'll try to be around soon <3))

[ladyeglantine]

-23- Three Years

Part of No Shepard without Vakarian, collection of Shakarian ficlets on AO3.

-23-

There had always been something soothing about the quiet hum of a ship at night, close to end of shift. Which is why Shepard had welcomed the ping from Garrus to hang out in the Starboard Observation lounge while she finished up reports. An unofficial date night.

The door opened and she immediately saw the back of Garrus’ head, framed by the inky sky dotted with stars outside. He turned at her arrival, smiling. “You made it.”

“Consult with Hackett and Anderson went long.” Shepard snaked around the couch. “Already claimed your spot, I see.”

“Comfiest with the best view.” He patted the space beside him. “But I’m more than willing to share.”

“How kind,” she said, readily taking her seat, bumping his shoulder as she sat.

“I try.” He set his datapad aside. “So how did your conversation with our newly-awoken Prothean go?”

Shepard let out a short laugh, not sure where or how to start. “It was…a lot to take in. He’s not what I expected.”

“To be fair, none of us really would know. Except Liara. Take it she’s living down there now?”

“No, she’s actually giving him space, recognized he needs time to adjust. She was pretty restrained all things considered. Think she’s taking it all in too.” 

Shepard glanced down at her own datapad with a frown, wishing she could will a report into existence. “Now I’ve just got to document it all.”

Unlike a lot of officers, she really didn’t mind filling out reports; templates made it all the easier. Shepard kept up logs even when Pressly as her XO would file reports, even when taking down the Collectors and she had no one to send reports to (no way was she going to send anything to the Illusive Man, that was all done by Miranda). It gave her a chance to collect her thoughts and reflect before plugging everything into the template. Her own version of journaling. But fatigue was beginning to hit her now she was finally off her feet. It’d been a long day, and they were only going to get longer. 

Glancing over at Garrus, she asked, “What are you working on?”

“Scanning through troop deployment reports across the turian colonies. See where we might need to shore up support. But we’re already stretched thin.”

“Which means more tough calls,” she finished for him.

“Yeah. And I expect them to get tougher the longer this goes.”

At hearing his own exhaustion, she lay a hand over his arm. “Let me know if you need a sounding board.”

He squeezed her hand. “Thanks.” His eyes then began to analyze her face. “You ok? Seeing those soldiers back on Eden Prime…”

Her eyes closed, pushing back the pain from seeing them gunned down in a home, the torn yellow blanket on the floor that clearly belonged to a child briefly choking her up. As much as Shepard had moved on from what happened, the lingering memories of Mindoir would never fully leave her.

“Just hard to see. But we made Cerberus pay,” she said, taking some pleasure at aiding the resistance force, helping to push Cerberus out of the colony. Hopefully for good.

He nodded, squeezing her hand again. “We did.”

Shooting him a smile, Shepard pulled away, knowing she needed to get this report done before she forgot anything, or the next crisis hit. Whichever came first.

But that didn’t mean they were no less pressed against each other, her head on his shoulder, thankful he’d changed into his casuals instead of staying in armor. She normally had classical music playing while writing and reading reports, but the sound of Garrus’ breathing and hum of the Normandy was enough to work to.

As Shepard finished her draft, she began to skim it over for anything she missed, struck by one detail.

“Still hard to believe it…”

The sound of talons clicking against datapad ceased. “Hard to believe what?”

Shepard took in the stars sailing past, the sight less unnerving compared to when she was first revived. Progress. “That it’s been over three years since this all started.”

She was about to add it feeling like a lifetime ago. But technically it had. Her old life ended with Saren and the geth and the Reapers, in every sense of the word.

“It’s funny. Joker and I both said there was more to Eden Prime than Anderson was telling us. Damn if that wasn’t true. Just never expected anything like this.”

“Me either. I knew whatever Saren was hiding was big. Never imagined anything like the Reapers.”

“Yeah…” she replied, not sure what else to say that wouldn’t lead to a heavy conversation. And they both needed a break from heavy.

As if Garrus could sense what she was thinking, he grabbed her datapad and placed it beside his. “But this also means it’s been over three years since we met.” His arm journeyed to her waist, pulling her even closer. “I’ll never forget that day.”

“Me either.” She wrapped an arm around him in turn. “One of the few good things to come out of this.”

How true that was. As shitty and hopeless a situation fighting the Reapers could feel in the darker moments, the people and crew she met along the way, the ones she could call family…on that, she could have no regrets.

Shepard brushed her brow against his. She relished in that short contact, the warmth of his plates on her skin, how it momentarily lifted the weight off her shoulders. “Even back then, I knew you were someone I wanted at my six.”

“Even when you were chewing me out for being reckless?”

“Oh, God…” She buried her face in her hand. “I was so straight-laced back then.”

“Then?” he asked, amused.

Shepard swatted his arm. “More straight-laced.” Her by the book mentality seemed to have left itself somewhere between Udina grounding them from going to Ilos and the Alliance thinking she was a Cerberus traitor. “Surprised you put up with me scolding you like that.”

He shrugged. “Not like I didn’t deserve it at times. Besides…” His mandibles and mouth shifted in a sly grin. “You’re sexy when you assert your authority.”

“Yeah?” She intentionally ran her fingers over the hide at the back of his neck in circles, earning her a pleased groan. “Tell me more.”

He clasped her wrist. “Not sure that’s the best use of our time.”

Catching the hint, Shepard climbed onto his lap, only taking the briefest of moments to steady herself before kissing him.

Editing could wait.

[mywingsareonwheels]

Some hopefully reassuring observations on fandom and human beings

1. Sometimes (more of the time than not) when two fans of something disagree sharply on their interpretation of a character or event in the story, neither of them is actually wrong. Especially if the source material is any good and thus complex and open to more than one way of looking at things. The more simplistic an interpretation the less astute and wise it’s likely to be, but that doesn’t mean that even someone who holds an opinion like that has missed everything important about it! When portrayals of a character in fanfic vary wildly that’s... actually probably a feature, rather than a bug. (Even if it is occasionally saddening to be halfway through a fic and suddenly realise that this excellent writer hates your favourite character/adore your least favourite! ;-) Such is life, doesn’t mean anyone’s doing anything wrong.)

2. It is totally reasonable to unfollow or even block an entirely lovely strange or near-stranger on tumblr/refrain from reading their fics because their interpretation of the story or a character is so different from yours that it’s just stressful to read their takes. But if it’s someone you already know and like, especially a real-life or close-online friend, it’s really *really* not worth falling out about that.

3. Relatedly: I think we all got so damn burned out by “you need to not just follow/like/befriend people you agree with about everything” being used to attempt to guilt us into listening to fascists, or otherwise put up with bigotry or constant microaggressions or generally get exhausted by nonsense. So let us all agree that instantly blocking bigots or others with views that we find dehumanising is a Really Damn Good Thing. BUT ALSO... over issues that aren’t that crucial, writing friends off due to any possible difference of opinion (fandom-related or otherwise) is a bit miserable. And absolutely awful as a pattern for activism, given that people of goodwill who may disagree with each other over some stuff working together is an absolutely necessary bit of activism.

4. When a fandom has a pattern of preference over characters, ships, and storylines that conforms to societal biases, a) that’s a bad thing and worth talking about, b) it *doesn’t mean that everyone in the fandom who has that preference is doing so because of those social biases*. Group tendencies do not generally predict the motivations of every individual within the group.

5. “It is an especially good thing when A happens” and “It is a bad thing when B happens” are not the same thing. (I most want to make the point that “queer actors playing queer characters is extra awesome” is true but so also is “sometimes het actors play queer characters beautifully and as long as they do their jobs well that’s totally okay”.)

6. It really is okay to ship characters because you fancy them rather than for any more supposedly exalted reason. (Which isn’t to say that other reasons to ship characters aren’t valid and interesting! But “I ship these two because they are/would be hot together” is a complete reason. If indeed any reason is needed.)

7. There is no moral dimension to what gender(s) you find attractive (if any).

8. There is no moral dimension to what gender(s) you are (if any).

9. Not everyone in fandom is a woman, let alone a cishet woman.

10. Actors and other artists are all human beings first and foremost, and should be treated accordingly. And being human beings, it should be trivially obvious that the theory that all of them are motivated by the desire for publicity and nothing else is absolute nonsense.

11. Being kind and generous with yourself and other people is a very very good thing.

[sarcastic-sketches]

Ghost of Tatooine

It’s time to make specific posts for all my AUs because they just keep happening help me

This one I’m actually writing a multi-chapter fic for (so won’t spoil too much) and will hopefully do some art for in the meantime. I want to write the whole thing before I start posting but I’m happy to answer questions about it.

I was watching the OG Trilogy with a friend and I couldn’t help but wonder what it would have been like for Anakin to have actually been there. But having him there physically would have changed way too much... but as a Ghost? That only Luke can see?? HMM

The premise is that Anakin chooses to fight Darth Sidious after the Chancellor reveals himself instead of going back to the Temple and gets himself killed. He then 'wakes up’ as a Force Ghost at the end of RotS and spends the next 19 years watching over Luke. Downside, the Empire is still a thing. Ya boy is half-Force and not nearly enough was done with this fact in canon, so miss me with that ‘he didn’t learn how to do that!!!’ argument.

Nobody can see him or hear him except his son and even then Luke can’t actually hear him until he’s learned to key into the Force a little more through Bens training. For 19 years they manage to communicate through various visual means (Luke gets very good at charades as a result) and Anakin even manages to keep Luke out of trouble while he’s stuck on Tatooine. If Obi-Wan gets mildly suspicious about how much easier Luke was to watch out for compared to his father he doesn’t think on it too hard. For some reason Anakin is kind of tied to Luke and can’t wander too far from him without exhausting himself in the Force and he has to retreat back into the wider, less tangible cosmos to recharge. So, he isn’t aware of Leia to start with. Since Luke cannot hear him, and therefore tragically misses the memo that this is his dead father, he refers to Anakin as his Ghost (not a Destiny reference actually even if that mental image is funny) ... until he starts his Force training and it’s the first thing Anakin blurts out he’s so happy.

Luke: Hey, so you know that ‘imaginary friend’ I had that never really went away? Obi-Wan: [already not liking where this is going] Yes...? Luke: Turns out he’s my dad! :D You know, the guy you were telling me about. Obi-Wan: [internally screaming] I’m too old for this

Despite the premise sounding extremely depressing I’m actually aiming for something quite light hearted here. Anakin may be dead af but he still gets to watch his kid grow up and didn’t become a murder cyborg for the Empire as a result.

Anakin: I see this as an absolute win!

[thatslayer]

Not a hiatus, but...

So, I'm still too stubborn to go on hiatus even though my entire life is screaming at me to do so. Because of a heavy work schedule and some family stuff, I just won't be here much and when I am I'm usually exhausted and my brain won't cooperate enough to write anything worth reading or responding to. Add to all that dealing with people in real life (no one on tumblr) who are needy and want all my free time and can't take a hint, and I'm running on fumes.

So, here's the sitch. I'm going to be VERY selective for a while with what I write. Any threads that seem stagnant ( meaning the muses talk and talk and talk but nothing actually happens ) or threads that lack even a basic, bare-bones plot will be indefinitely drafted for the time being. I'm not dropping things, I love you all and I want ALL our stuff, but I'm a plot-oriented writer and with the small amount of time I have, I want to focus on threads with a more established storyline just for the sake of time issues.

I'm going to try to revert back to running a queue, which might end up running 1-2 posts + an edit or musing per day if I can swing it, that way at least I'm less likely to be overwhelmed when I do get the chance to log on. Even though multi-paras are my preference, if the replies are on the longer side, it'll probably be a single reply a day just because I really don't have time right now to do a lot of long replies and beta editor is NOT helping. I might also continually cut the word count so I can reply on my phone. Hopefully, that'll change once I'm fully moved to my new place and can stop worrying so much about money and trying to scramble away from my horrible family.

I only have a very limited amount of time on Sundays, because everything I can't do during the week because of work has got to be done on Sunday, but I'll try to be here on and off on those days. I won't be responding to discord or IMs unless we're actively plotting or very close buds, because chatting on disco takes up my writing time.

Sorry guys! I know I've been horrid at being present and I'm even more sorry that it's just going to be that way for a while as I wait for my life to finally settle down! I truly adore my writing partners, and everyone on my dash, and I hope this is just a TTFN and not anything permanent. I'll still be around, just very, very slow!

[hospitalterrorizer]

diary15

9/19-20/2023

less exhausted now than yesterday.

i got 5 songs re-mixed today, which puts me at 13/25 (yes there are songs i forgot i had to work on and there's one i added that's out already but i should redo it for like, bandcamp and spotify/whatever (and there's some i'm still not counting because they're pretty simple and honestly i feel like they won't be too difficult)).

today i did get really happy doing all of this at least, i had a breakthrough w/ the guitar processing stuff that's at least gonna help a lot on some of these songs/tones, where i use something that simulates a lossy mp3 and stick it early in the chain, parallel with something, and then use the chime-y sound that it creates, essentially a warbly reactive bandpass with some random elements, and it helps add a sense of real guitar, it also helps un-deaden and de-cotton-ball some of the sounds, but i think i can work on that still. there's an answer somewhere to that problem.

maybe i can go do that now, who knows. i've got some loose time i guess but i should actually let myself relax, all the best ideas come to me when i'm not overworking myself. i think partially the problem is the sound loses a lot of dynamics/transients which would give it more textural shape.

it's also just the nature of distortion. stacking so much makes the sound, i dunno, rounder, or not round, it's sharp, but it's kind of like razor thin in ways. i like the razor part, and i like thin, but i want it to be a little more present, i think that means needing some more low end, it could be a situation where there's two channels, one maintaining the lower end.

also what the hell is up with impulse response cabinet things and them sounding so freaking, i dunno, weak.

whatever. but this is all my life is right now. kinda. tomorrow i'm going to do errands (woo (actually crying but whatever)) and hopefully i'll get to do some of the short songs before i am whisked away.

oh my god i can get post-grunge impulse responses. honestly i could on a lark but honestly no thanks i don't need to fool around with an impulse response based on the guitar cabs the guy from hoobastank uses. what is the point.

there's people who would see that and say they're going to make the most fucked up music ever using that, like a dare, i'm going to be brave and say that i am too good for that. even if i'm stupid and cleaning up a 25 song (+ more) mess. maybe i sound like i hate fun but i just hate what some people treat as fun, or i don't hate it. i just feel bored and frustrated by it cuz it's like, i'm gonna handle trash and act above it and also extol it because x y or z and it's a lame impulse and also i guess gently tied to some weird revivalist bent people can take up.

sorry for bitching and moaning about something that's essentially really specific and dumb.

listening to other fucked up guitar music makes me feel good about where my stuff is at, it's like i can figure out some tiny things and get it where it needs to be. i think as it stands the biggest issue could really be the bass sounds, they still come out a bit loud, which is an easy thing to fix, i just wonder if lowering the db is actually what i should do, but what else, who knows.

vocals also are a bit tough but they always are, you just find where they sit and stick them there, is how i feel about it.

who knows how much longer this whole mixing talk is gonna go on for. it could be my life forever. i don't want it to be, i want to write again soon but my mind is wholly on this, on the communion w/ soundwaves through abstract graphical and numerical means. an extremely material circumstance i think.

i got distracted from my #superimportant diary by a conversation with a friend, it's veered into a discussion of when we've felt insulted by artists people compare us to. the two of us have been burroughs'd by people, and not to say he's a bad writer or anything, but it's not what either of us are going for, and it's interesting how people can be really appreciative of what you're doing or something and vocalize that, and you can sit there and feel, in the wake of someone being really nice to you, and honest with you, and a lot of things i feel like i should appreciate, i am left incapable because of a bad taste. this isn't what happens even most of the time with comparisons, especially with my music. it's always nice to hear what people think. often they feel kind of left field, but good, or they're so left field it's like, i'm glad you got that out of it, but something about how people do it with writing in particular, there's a level of people treating your voice like it's a party trick and a condescension i guess.

it's also such an asshole thing to complain about someone being nice to you, but at the end of everything, it's just whatever, it's a thing. i think i'm allowed to ruminate when it's something that's a strange feature of my life. it's an ugly kind of rock formation i see that isn't a terrible eyesore but it's strange the earth's mantle and crust and everything conspired towards that, and the strangeness not so great and not especially meaningful, you are just put before it and nod at it and think about it later, i guess.

i shouldn't have to justify everything about my life or inside my head but i do i guess cuz i'm cuhrayzzzzeeeeeeee.

when i type like that i feel like i'm actually getting myself across, not in a way where like, i know someone understands, it's just letting something deeper inside out. it's how i actually feel and i guess no one could understand why it makes me feel, i dunno, whatever cluster of things it makes me feel.

i just remembered ryuichi sakamoto's passing, and almost cried, might cry, kidn of crying, crying.

not much to say about it, just a real tragedy, a real legend and genius. i love him a lot.

it's a bad idea to listen to forbidden colors, but i will.

what a perfect articulation of something, that song. i don't know why sakamoto is one of the musician deaths that makes me the saddest, i really do cry over him more than any other, it's not new at all really, it's not fresh anymore and it still gets to me, and he was old, it wasn't shocking really. but i guess we all knew it was coming, those who keep up at least saw the stuff about his cancer. i think it's because his music and how he wrote music represents something fairly singular to me. it's hard to get me to sit and listen to anything classical adjacent, him doing solo piano stuff a lot makes that easier, since i love that anyways, but his particular interpretations of older kinds of music are just really moving. you can sense his entanglement with that music and the will to move past it, the recognition of others, through time.

now i'm thinking about house music. good house music always makes me really melancholy, even if the song is happy, endlessly joyless, really it's the joy that makes me sad, it makes the gulf apparent, i am here and now, and all the parties these old songs were made to keep going and start and end, never even expected me to be there. meaner kinds of dance music are what i end up making, because of that emotional reality. i guess it's not that house is uncomplicatedly happy or something either, dj sprinkles talks about that on an album. it's also where a lot of queer people collected themselves, and partied, but not really escaping a miserable material reality, things like that. the sense of loss and distance and alienation is greater now. only for a night, and in the night, do you and your body join, a question is asked, how long can the night go on for, and a journey starts there, and what are all the ways we can modulate time, and so on, not to escape, but to be embodied, to exit the escpaism that surrounds us at all times (something something the spectacle (which on some level includes dance music, especially now.))

us being general and not localized to queerness, only to the downtrodden, of which there are many.

this is a lame pick, but for these particular emotional reasons/resonances, the song i'm your brother by round one (basic channel basically) is one of the best house songs, it feels like it's speaking to that exactly.

and i guess i'll end this entry with a link to another dance song, colder, not house, but it's a song that perfectly captures how it feels to walk home from work at night, not liberated but feeling liberation on your tongue and that denial, the slim hours you have to live your life, all our desperate existences, and stuff.

byebye !!!!

[void-kissed]

21 for the kiss meme w/clio (for darkling aria au, perchance? :3)

Hehehehehe, I can certainly do that for you, friend! Thank you very, very much for this ^-^

(question source: "F/O Kiss Meme" by self-shipper-snowdrop)

21. "Hello"/"Welcome Home" kiss (1293 words)

..I was actually able to repurpose a piece of writing I'd already been working on for this one, haha! So, this one is pretty long as far as ask answers go. However, I hope it's still alright! ^-^

The late morning sun had filled Clio's bedroom with light and warmth in the time since she had left it, but her first act upon getting back was to go over and pull the navy curtains closed, letting soothing shade settle over the space instead. Aria had kept close behind her the whole time, not only to hopefully be safer if she happened to be spotted on the way back, but also to simply appreciate the feeling of finally having someone else close by again.

"You can just sit down on my bed if you want." Clio was saying. "You look exhausted."

"Oh.. Thank you.." Aria quickly came over to perch on the end of the bed, watching as the room became darker and subsequently much easier to see in. This was her first time being invited into Clio's bedroom, so she was taking time to examine her surroundings - it was an open and spacious room with ample wardrobe space built into the wall near the doorway. A jewellery stand adorned with a number of pretty accessories stood on the dresser, and a many-flowered jasmine plant was growing in a terracotta pot sat next to it. It was this that she was staring at when Clio finished closing the curtains.

"I picked that one up from a shop not too far from here, back when I was out with some of the others." she explained, speaking up to fill the silence once she saw where Aria was looking. "I read that they don't like too much sunlight all at once, so I put it on the dresser in case today's mission took a while, and.. I mean, I don't want to jinx it, but it seems to be doing pretty well where I've left it!"

"Yes." Aria stated. "Constant light can be damaging in excess."

"Say, you wouldn't happen to know what this flower means, would you?" Clio asked casually, knowing the affinity she had always had for flower language.

There was then a long pause.

"..I can't remember." she admitted, and looked awfully downtrodden at the fact.

"Oh, that's alright!" Clio smiled to try and ease tension again. "It might say in the book I got, actually, so- don't worry!"

This did little to reassure her partner. "..I should be able to remember. No- I should be able to know. It's.. not good that I can't.."

In return, Clio couldn't help but be confused by her wording. "You should be able to? Did the.. do you think the darkness affected your memory?"

"Less memory, more.. instinct." Aria stated. Then she stopped. A lump caught in her throat, and Clio could see tears starting to form in her eyes again.

"Ari.."

"I have already lost so much.." she began to mumble, voice wavering now as she brought a clawed hand to where her heart would be. "I don't want- I refuse to let anything else of what I am be taken away. Whether by darkness, light, or any other aspect."

Clio opened her mouth to speak, but found she could not find the right words, so she settled for coming over and sitting on her bed next to Aria instead.

"..It'll be okay." she tried again. "You're back in Daybreak Town now."

"..A world of Dandelions, now." she muttered back. "The darkness was not safe for you, and it took something from me. But now, I fear the light here is not safe for me, for how much of it's present here."

Clio couldn't help but feel sad again at that, and reached out to take Aria's hand again, gently running her thumb over the hard parts of her claws, painfully aware of how cold she now was to the touch. In return, Aria simply leaned over to rest her head on Clio's shoulder, away from the spikes of her armour, tilting her wing to embrace her, trying to sense what warmth she still could.

There was a long, but not uncomfortable, silence as the two sat there together side-by-side.

It was Clio who spoke up again to break the silence, as a soft thought settled in her mind.

"Hey, um- There's something I've been meaning to give back to you."

"Mm..?"

Aria tilted her head in confusion as she watched Clio get off of the bed again, this time moving to the table right beside it. On it lay many items one would expect to find in such a spot - an alarm clock, a glass of water, a small pile of scrunchies and hairbands - but also a crown of clovers, woven together in a delicate yet strong wreath that Clio could gladly put back on her head now that she no longer needed to wear her helmet. However, before she did that, she set about dismantling her regalia, removing pieces of it one at a time and carefully setting them down on the floor away from Aria. Finally, her upper half was free of it, showing off her arms as all she was wearing underneath was a black short-sleeved shirt.

Even so, as she turned around, it could be seen that something was still fastened to her chest, right over her heart.

The flower still held the same softness and health as it had when it was gifted, all that time ago before the war - that much could be clearly discerned from the soft shine of its five pale pink petals. Two green leaves curled out from underneath the petals, one sitting just on top of the other, both pointing downwards like overlapping clock hands.

It was not just any cherry blossom, though that was clearly evident from its size - but above any other ways it stood out, it was her flower, a part of her still wholly untainted and free of the weight that the realm of darkness had worn the rest of her down with. A part of her willingly given up to someone who did not even know its true meaning, yet accepted it and treasured it for what it still was - who yet accepted her and treasured her for who she still was - nevertheless.

"You kept it.." was all that Aria could say, taking in the meaning of what she saw with an aura of what seemed like disbelief. She tentatively stood up from the bed to try and get a closer look.

"Of course I did." Clio said reassuringly, lifting the flower from her chest so that it could be put in its rightful place. "It was all I had left of you, and it was a promise that you would come back - so, how could I have not?"

"You really- I- I don't know what to say-" Aria's voice was now shaking with emotion, but she was interrupted when Clio reached out and pulled her cold body into an embrace, carefully placing the flower back where it belonged in the process with her other hand.

There was a moment of pause, as the flower settled back and found the rest - and then all Clio felt was a veritable glow of warmth and love as she held Aria close. She gently eased out of the hug, but only to get to be able to look down and see those catlike eyes of bright amber staring up at her - those eyes that held a visceral, and powerful, and yet no less adoring sense of life behind them now. Despite what the realm of darkness had done to her, and turned her into how she now appeared, no part of her seemed monstrous, anymore.

With a relieved and loving smile, all she could do was lean down and give her girlfriend a kiss on the lips.

"Welcome back, Aria."

Thank you very much again for sending this in, friend!!