Shirt That Says IF YOU LIKE ME YOU HAVE TO TELL ME EXPLICITLY. The Back Says I AM IMMUNE TO SOCIAL CUES.

shirt that says IF YOU LIKE ME YOU HAVE TO TELL ME EXPLICITLY. the back says I AM IMMUNE TO SOCIAL CUES.

He Is - Madrid, Spain | 08/05/2022

If you ever find yourself in a horror scenario, remember to blush really hard when the ghost/demon/monster appears. If you do that fast enough you might be able to shift the genre.

me, with tears in my eyes: time to make a joke

working for the knife: chapter 12

chapter 12: fulfill me (link) Pairing: Cardinal Copia x Sister of Sin OC Rating: this fic is explicit. 18+, minors do not interact Chapter word count: 3.5k Tags: angst, miscommunication, cliffhanger, these poor idiots Read the entire work on AO3 here! (link)

Cecilia and Copia are sitting on his couch under the guise of working, watching The Rocky Horror Picture Show instead. Cecilia suggested watching it, "for inspiration," and Copia, willing to try anything at this point, agreed. His living room is dark, save for the blue glow of the television. It’s March 2; the crocuses and daffodils are starting to poke their colorful heads up through the earth. The days are getting longer, and the warmth of the sun doesn’t feel so far away. Sister Imperator is expecting Ghost’s newest album on her desk by the end of the month.

They’re comfortable; Copia is in his red sweats, and Cecilia’s wearing an old hoodie from her college days and fleece-lined leggings. Cecilia’s legs are stretched across Copia’s lap, concealed by an old, crocheted granny-square blanket woven in acid trip colors. It’s physically cozy, but Cecilia still feels emotionally inaccessible to Copia. Her heart is miles away, and when he reaches toward her, she deflects expertly. They haven’t made any inroads in the vulnerability department since their dinner on Valentine’s Day, but they have been spending their evenings like this more often than not recently. Dinners at the dining hall have slowly transformed into shared meals in Copia’s apartment. They usually watch a movie or bad television curled up against each other after eating, not saying much except for the occasional snide comment about the drama brewing between housewives.

The longer they spend in each other’s orbit, the more desperately Copia desires to have Cecilia open up to him. He wants to know what happened the night she left; he longs to cup that secret in his hands like an injured bird, carefully, like it’s something delicate and sacred. Copia knows that he told himself he would take what he can get, a relationship in any capacity, but balancing on this tightrope is becoming excruciatingly hard. How can he prove to her that she can trust him?

"I loved Rocky Horror in college," she says. "We would dress up and go to the midnight showing almost every Friday. More fun than bar-hopping, I think." Rocky is fondling Janet’s breasts on screen as she begs for him to touch-a touch-a touch-a me. Feels appropriate, Cecilia’s wandering mind thinks. Since she felt Copia pressed hot and hard against her body while he kissed her ravenously, Cecilia has been subtly hinting with soft touches that she wants more, more, more.

"It would’ve been fun to watch this in high school too, no? There’s so much that we missed out on after you left. Um.. so much I wish we could have done. I made a whole list of plans for your first winter break." He doesn’t think he’s prying, just trying to tease some sort of response from her, or at least an acknowledgement that so much lingers in the space between them.

There’s a long pause, silent except for the movie in the background. "Copia, I… I’m still not ready to talk about this," she says, crossing her arms over her chest. Unholy Father, she thinks with exasperation, she’s already contending with Sister Imperator’s unrealistic timeline and the pressure to make sure Copia succeeds. She doesn’t need Copia trying to force his timeline on her, too. One thing at a time. She feels the walls close in on her, and it’s a little harder to breathe. What’s the rush? They’ve waited long enough, after all - what’s a little longer?

"How long are we going to play this game?" Copia asks, sounding tired. He has a hangdog expression on his face, and Cecilia feels awful.

"What do you mean?" Cecilia asks, shifting her position and leaning forward toward Copia. Their legs are still touching, and she’s suddenly very aware of how physically intimate their current arrangement is.

"You let me in a little bit, and then retreat the moment you feel vulnerable," Copia replies. "Please, Cecilia - please, let me in. You’re sitting with your legs in my lap, but you won’t open up to me." He sounds desperate, and he’s looking at her like she’s wounded him. His white eye is icy, and Cecilia feels it slicing through the very core of her.

"Copia, how many times have I told you? I’ll tell you when I’m ready," she says, feeling the urge to bolt. "Every time I open myself up to people, it backfires."

"I think not letting yourself be known backfires more than anything else," he replies gently. He knows it sounds accusatory, but he’s trying to dig his fingers in - push past the rind and into the juicy flesh inside. See what spills forth. His curiosity is killing him.

"What are you saying?" Cecilia says, pulling her legs back from Copia’s lap. Curling in on herself.

"Like with the… ah… with your old job. You hid a huge part of yourself and when the truth came out, that backfired," Copia offers meekly, knowing it’ll go over miserably the second the words leave his lips.

Her face twists in anger. "A huge part of myself that I never asked for," she bites back.

He goes on, despite his best judgement. The words spill from him of their own accord. "And you didn’t tell you parents that you were going to college… and I don’t think that went well, either. You disappeared without a word for twenty years."

Cecilia curls her arms around her knees, looking furious. She feels like she’s about to collapse in on herself, like a dying star. "I did what I had to do to keep myself safe. You don’t know what they did-" She stops herself short. The feeling of having her life ripped out from underneath her, not once but twice, is overwhelming and rushing back. She feels panicky, like she’s going to drown. Her lungs feel watery and taking a full breath seems impossible.

"I think you’ve been able to, eh rest on your laurels of being someone who works very hard and does a good job to keep people from getting to know you," Copia offers. It comes out harsher than he intended.

Cecilia scrambles up off the couch, tossing the blanket in Copia’s lap. "Stop! I can’t do this, Copia. Not like this. I - I need to leave. Goodnight."

He sees now he pushed too far, and the realization twists like a knife in his gut. Looking at her, he can see the wild, animal panic in her eyes. Fuck, he’s messed this up. "Cecilia, wait -"

"How many times have I said that I’ll tell you when I’m ready?" she says again, spitting the words like they’re venom, pulling on her boots.

"Will you ever be ready?" Copia asks - not accusatory, but with a pleading kind of vulnerability that breaks her heart.

"Twenty years is a long time, and a lot has changed. It’s hard to talk about - and I don’t mean to push you away - but I feel like I’m going to crack open and shatter when I think about what happened between then and now. Maybe the day will come when I don’t feel that way, but you can’t force it." Cecilia’s walking to the door. Copia stands up, takes a step toward her. Her hand is on the door knob, ready to twist.

"Please let me know you," he offers, one final plea.

"I’m afraid that you’ll hurt me too. Goodnight, Copia." She opens the door and steps out into the night. The movie is still playing on the television, and Copia feels desperately alone. He’s left with the impression that he’s destroyed the little progress they’ve made, and he’s wishing that Cecilia never came back in the first place.

[10:09pm] Cecilia, I’m sorry.

[10:48pm] Buona notte.

It’s Friday, March 16, and Cecilia is filled with dread. Sister Imperator has called a 2:00pm meeting with her and Copia. Cecilia knows that Sister is expecting an update on an album that still does not exist. She really hopes that Copia takes it upon himself to bear that news, because she is at her wits end.

Cecilia can tell that Copia is starting to panic, which makes her feel anxious, too. All she wants to do is fix the problem, but Copia just won’t let her. She’s suggested vision boards, affirmations, morning pages - all the tools in her arsenal, to no avail. Their thrice-daily meals have dwindled to maybe just lunch, and that’s if they don’t find themselves busy mid-day. Cecilia has given up on receiving any texts from Copia that aren’t work-related, and every time she wants to send him something funny, she hesitates and decides against it. They still haven’t had an actual conversation since she stormed out of his apartment, and the tension between them is starting to boil over.

For the past two weeks, Copia has scrapped every single song he’s tried to write. She’s watched as the pile of crumpled paper grew in his office wastebasket, eventually spilling over onto the floor. The ghouls are getting antsy, tired of waiting around with nothing to do. The emotional energy that seeps out from them when they trail in behind Copia for mass is rancid, for lack of a better word. From behind their silver masks, their eyes shoot impatient little daggers at him.

Cecilia across from Copia at his desk, watching him scratch through a lyric so fervently the paper rips. He groans and throws the entire legal pad against the wall.

"Woah!" Cecilia nearly jumps out of her chair at the noise. "Calm down, Copia."

"Sister is going to have my head on a plate if I don’t give her what she wants," Copia says, running his hands through his hair. 

"What is it she always says? Leave yourself open and you’ll receive?" Cecilia changes the affectation of her voice in a mimicry of Sister Imperator. "Have you… tried that?"

"Figlio de putana, ughhhhh." He covers his face with his hands and sighs aggrievedly. "Do you think I haven’t tried that, Cecilia? I light a black candle every morning when I wake up and say the stupidest little prayer." He pauses and makes a show of clasping his hands together in mock, exaggerated prayer. "‘O Unholy Father, I’m ready to receive the message you want me to share with the masses as soon as you get around to sending it up to me! Nema!’ I’ve tried everything." He rolls his eyes and feels the hot press of a headache starting in his temples.

"Shit, Copia, sorry I asked. I’m just trying to help," she replies, feeling a little affronted.

"What would help is if you go back to your own office and leave me alone," he says with more venom than she’s ever heard from him before. Cecilia’s blood rushes and she exhales sharply through her nose. She stands up without a word and walks next door to her office, slamming the door behind her. Copia does not follow.

The day drags on at an excruciatingly slow pace. 

Copia doesn’t knock on her door at noon for lunch, so Cecilia munches on stale almonds she finds in her desk drawer and makes herself a pot of coffee, double brewed. Twelve-thirty comes and goes with no sign of Copia, so she figures they’re not doing lunch today. That’s fine. Because she’s already in a sour mood and doesn’t see the harm in making it worse, she looks up her old boss online against her better judgement. In the corner of a photo from a recent news article, she sees her replacement - the new Chief-of-Staff - smiling widely behind the congresswoman and seethes.

Mercifully, after more than an hour of doom-scrolling, it’s nearly time for their meeting. "A little check-in," Sister Imperator had called it. Cecilia’s feeling petty, so she makes the short walk down the hall to Sister Imperator’s office alone, not bothering to let Copia know she’s on her way. To her surprise, Copia is already seated at Sister’s desk, the red horns of his biretta poking out from his head. The sight of him sitting there perched like a proud, stupid little bird infuriates her.

"Thank you for joining us, Sister Cecilia," says Sister. "Close the door, will you?"

Wordlessly, Cecilia closes the heavy wood door and slinks into the desk chair next to Copia. She crosses her ankles and folds her hands in her lap.

"Sister Imperator, I’d like to start this meeting, if I may," says Copia. Cecilia glances at him from the corner of her eye, waiting to hear what he has to say. He takes a deep breath, then continues. "I would like to formally request that Sister Cecilia be given another assignment within the Clergy."

"What?!" Cecilia balks. "Where is this coming from?"

Copia is steely, unfazed. "Our working relationship has eh, deteriorated to the point where it’s jeopardizing the Ghost Project. I cannot work with her any further." Cecilia glares at him, speechless. Copia is unfazed, starting straight ahead at Sister Imperator. It’s so quiet that Cecilia can hear the squeak of his leather gloves as he clenches and unclenches his fists. 

Sister is stony-eyed, looking from Copia to Cecilia and back again. The silence hangs heavy in the room; Cecilia feels like she can scarcely breathe in its midst. "No, Copia," Sister Imperator says after what feels like forever. Cecilia sighs her relief, and she can tell that Copia is all tense and hot and pissy under his cassock. Good. "I don’t know what’s going on between you two, but you need to figure it out like adults. You’re both sitting there pouting, and I feel like I’m talking to bickering children right now. This kind of behavior is extremely unbecoming of the future leader of the Clergy and a woman who made her living hobnobbing with politicians for ten years. Copia, you have what it takes to make this happen and it will come. It’s up to you to figure out how to get there. You’re dismissed. Don’t talk to me until you have an album, either of you. You have two weeks." Adding insult to injury, she shoos them off with a little flick of her hands.

Cecilia stands up fast enough that her chair squeaks against the stone floor. She pushes the door open hard enough that it swings back on its hinges before Copia can even rise to his feet.

Sister is nonplussed as Copia leaps up to follow Cecilia, who’s already near the other end of the hallway and no doubt on her way back to her dorm. Her habit is clenched tightly in her fist, and her hair swishes with each quick step. Meanly, Copia thinks that she’s probably going to cry it out like she always does.

--

Cecilia spends the rest of the afternoon into the evening cocooned in her comforter. She’s too angry to cry and too wired to sleep, so she just lays there, curled in on herself like a worm.

Her phone is on her pillow next to her, and it’s been silent for hours. It vibrates twice, startling her, and the screen lights up. She snakes a hand out of her blanket cocoon and brings her phone right in front of her face. The blue light is blinding, but she feels bad enough about everything else that she doesn’t care about her eyeballs getting sizzled. Surprisingly, it’s a text from Copia. 

[7:52pm] Can u come to my apartment? I think we need to talk abt this afternoon

As pissed as she is, she‘s happy to hear something from him.

[7:52pm] Yeah, I think so, too. See you in 30?

[7:54pm] K.

Cecilia intended to be an adult about this, she really did, but Copia’s passive-aggressive "K." sends her over the edge. She runs a brush through her hair so it looks passable, puts on the first matching pair she finds in her pile of shoes, and makes her way over to Copia’s quarters, grabbing her purse before she goes.

Copia hears a knock on his door and his stomach drops. Less than ten minutes have passed since he last texted Cecilia, but he doesn’t see the point in further delaying this confrontation. Through the peephole, he can see Cecilia standing outside with her arms crossed. He knows she’s pissed, but so is he. Bracing himself, he opens the door.

"What the fuck was that in Sister’s office?" Cecilia starts. She’s still wearing her habit, but her veil is absent. Oddly enough, she’s wearing bright magenta running shoes, which she kicks off and across the room moments after walking in the door. Copia grimaces; Cecilia is walking into his apartment like a tornado, all fury. One shoe hits the wall with a thunk before falling to the ground."You can’t just drop a bomb like that on me. You can’t work when I’m around? You could have at least talked to me first, you know, like an adult." Copia has a fire burning in the fireplace, and its smoky warmth is suffocating.

"I’ve tried talking to you! You’re making this impossible!" Copia yells. "I have a job to do, and I know it doesn’t matter to you, but it matters a lot to me. All you do is offer unhelpful suggestions and ice me out!"

"What’s that supposed to mean? It doesn’t matter to me? Fuck, Copia, I’m trying to help you! It matters to me because I care about you! I would’ve packed it up and asked Sister for another job weeks ago if I didn’t!" Cecilia can tell that her face is flushed bright red with how fast heat rises to her cheeks. She has no idea how long Copia’s been home, but he’s still in his vestments; the red of her face matches the red of his cassock.

"Listen, Cecilia. This is how I see it. You let me in a little bit, and then you slam the door on me every time I get too close for you. You let me kiss you and touch you and you curl up next to me on my couch, but you - you freak out any time I try to talk to you more, eh, deeply. Do you have any idea how exhausting that is to deal with? I never know which Cecilia I’m going to get at the start of the day. I can’t focus on anything else because you are the only thing I think about," Copia says. Cecilia is frowning deeply, her fists balled up tightly at her sides. He goes on: "Do you know what it feels like? I don’t even know if we can have what we ah, had before, but that’s okay! If I can at least have closure - Unholy Father, Cecilia, you disappeared right after we almost had sex and made all of these whispered promises about the future, and you sent one cryptic postcard and I never hear from you again. And I kept waiting for you to write, or call, or reappear, but that didn’t happen. I kept telling myself that I needed to move on, and just when I thought I finally did, you show up back at the Ministry and worm your way into my whole life. All this time, and I don’t even know why you left like that - you broke my heart. You can’t even acknowledge what we had, how close we were, and that’s what hurts me the most." Copia’s breath is heaving, and the white eye is making everything he sees glow like an incandescent filament. He squeezes his eyes shut and presses the heels of his palms against them before blinking them open again.

Cecilia’s mouth is agape and she’s visibly trembling. "Worm my way back in your life? That’s not fair, and you know it. I don’t know why Sister threw me into this… this impossible fucking task! I wanted a fresh start and a clean break from everything when I came back, but apparently that was too much to ask of the universe. Do you think I want to be babysitting you, Copia? Making sure you do your work? Did you ever consider that my heart was broken, too? I kept every stupid letter you ever sent me in a shoebox. I took it back with me after my mom’s funeral, and I brought it with me when I came back here. Ugh!" Her eyes are welling up with tears. She breathes out slowly, tries to count to ten. Copia says nothing, just looks at her intensely with his steely mismatched gaze. He’s fuming mad and has a furious set to his jaw; she knows her babysitting comment was a low blow. The infernal white eye, hot and bright, looking through her sends a tremor of something through her body; she’s not sure if it’s a fear response or if she’s turned on, to be quite honest. Regardless, she can’t look away. It’s captivating. Cecilia decides that there’s no use in delaying the inevitable any further, and exhales the rest of her breath in a steady stream. "Okay, Copia. I’ve never told another person this in my entire life, and you’re going to be the first. There’s no point in hiding it anymore, and if this is what we need to move forward, let’s do it. This is what happened the night I left."

Actually in love with pics of cardi where u can see the cute lil curve of his belly in his old suits

Gotta be one of my fave genders