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Papa Iv - Blog Posts
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Finished my Phantom Copia sketches! Please enjoy angels of music! ♥️✨
You, Your Mother, the Cardinal, and the Christmas Lights
Cardinal Copia x reader
In which you’re dealing with your toxic mother and although Cardinal Copia isn’t riding right behind you on a pale white horse, he’s still always there for you <3
This is the song that plays when the happy part of the story starts!
•♥︎♥︎♥︎•
You sighed deeply as you strolled around the large Christmas lights display in the park. It was only a few days before Christmas; and lots of people milled about, chatting, laughing, taking pictures, and admiring all the twinkling lights. The whole park was covered in lights and decorations, every tree lit up in pretty colours. It was cold, cold enough to see your breath every time you exhaled; and fluffy snowflakes were falling lightly, adding to the magic of everything.
But it wasn’t magical for you, in fact it was far from it. Because you were with your mother, and she just wouldn’t stop berating you. This was what she did, she constantly took all of her frustrations out on you. And although you knew this, although you told yourself over and over again that it wasn’t your fault, it still hurt like hell. It wore you down, boring a hole into you where your heart should be. It made your head spin, your jaw clench, feeling like nothing more than a sad puddle on the ground.
You looked around at all the people in the park, big smiles on their faces as they enjoyed spending time with one another. Why weren’t you allowed the same privilege of just being happy?
You tried to zone out and focus your thoughts on Copia- he was your boyfriend of sorts. You had really fallen for each other since you started volunteering at his church, but you hadn’t officially declared yourselves as dating yet. Copia was the Cardinal at that huge Satanic ministry on the hill that loomed over your town. He was 50, which was way older than you. A whole lifetime older than you. You didn’t expect your mother to be very happy about you dating someone who was easily old enough to be your dad, let alone some Satanic clergyman, so you both decided to keep it unofficial for now. All this time, your mother never knew you were riding your bike up to the ministry to visit your dear Cardinal. It was only a matter of time before you joined his church, and then you could be together all the time.
You desperately wished he was here now to save you, to whisk you away and work his magic on your tense nerves and broken heart. You had invited him to be your date to look at the lights, but he had apologetically declined because he needed to finish a big stack of Latin translations and paperwork. And besides, Christmas wasn’t really his thing.
“See all these people here? They’re all with their family and friends and you’re not. You’re all alone in the world because nobody likes you! You’re worthless! And now I’m stuck with you because you have no one else.” Your mother droned on and on and on. You let out a tired groan, wishing you had at least brought earmuffs to take the edge of her grating voice. Your eyes were empty, void of all emotion as you silently took the abuse. If you talked back, it would only make things worse.
Tears threatened to spill onto your cold cheeks, feeling lonelier than ever. The winter iciness was also starting to get to you, as you didn’t even have a hot drink to fight off the chill.
Wait- is that? No, no, it couldn’t be. Your mind is probably just playing tricks on you.
But then a few people moved and you spotted him in the crowd. Were you daydreaming too hard, were you imagining things? You blinked a few times, wiping the tears from your eyes to see more clearly. Sure enough, he was really there. Your sweet Cardinal, looking absolutely dashing in his tight black suit and a warmer dress coat on top, with a long scarf bundled around his neck that somehow added an irresistible pitifulness to his look. Fuck, he was so adorable. The man was completely and utterly out of his element, but that only caused your heart to swell for him more. He looked all around for you, gloved hands clasped meekly in from of himself, awkwardly apologizing as he nearly bumped into a few people. You grinned even wider when you noticed he was holding his cane, the one with the serpent head handle.
“It’s never a moment’s peace with you! Because who else do you have besides me? No one!” Your mother scowled.
“That’s not true.” You finally spoke up, a big smile finding its way onto your face as you stared at the love of your life.
“What do you mean? Who else wants to be around you??” She scoffed bitterly.
“My boyfriend.” You replied, butterflies fluttering in your stomach just from finally saying it out loud.
“What do you mean?! You don’t have a-“
Without another word, you ran up to Copia, weaving through groups of people. “Cardinal!” You shouted, getting his attention.
He grinned brightly upon seeing you rushing up to him, pleasantly surprised when you practically tackled him into a tight hug and pulled him in for a kiss right there in front of all those people.
The Cardinal kissed you back with absolute fervour, his lips warm against your cold ones, although you felt warmer already from just being in his arms.
Some groups of people watched and gawked, wondering why such a pretty young thing like you would be in a passionate lip lock with such an older man. But you couldn’t care less, you wanted everyone to witness the feelings you had for your Cardinal. You wanted to scream it from the rooftops.
Copia brushed some snow off your hair as you did the same for him, pulling away slightly to take each other in. Your noses, cheeks, and lips were flushed from the chilly weather, and you both silently admired the way each other looked like this. Your eyes glittered with crystalline tears, joyful ones now that your love was here.
“Cardinal how did you… how did you know where I was? This park is huge.” You asked, cupping his cold face in your hands.
“I just walked around looking for the most beautiful girl here. And now I’ve got her, si?” He replied, a charming smile on his devastatingly handsome face as he pinched your cheek playfully. He then brought you in for another kiss, the whole world falling away as your lips met, causing your heart to thrum loudly in your chest.
“Come, Dolcezza, you are cold. Mi fratelli are here as well, and we have a nice hot chocolate for you, si?” The man smiled, putting a hand on the small of your back and leading you away. You took one last glance at your confused mother, before nuzzling into the Cardinal’s side and strolling away with him.
Soon, you began giggling as you heard the sound of Terzo’s voice.
“Don’t you know how to take a selfie, old man?! It’s what all the giovanetti are doing nowadays!” Terzo’s voice rung out among the crowd.
“Pff, ‘old man’… You’re only two months younger than me, coglione! Plus, I’m the one holding all the goddamn cioccolati caldi!” Secondo barked back at his brother.
You spotted them just in time to catch Primo rolling his eyes and taking a sip of his own hot chocolate.
“Ciao, tutti!” You called out, and immediately you were surrounded by the Papas as they pushed Copia aside to hug you.
“Oh! Ciao, Tesoro mio!” Terzo flashed you with that charming smile, pulling you into his arms and smothering you with multiple kisses on your cheeks under the guise of ‘trying to warm you up.’ You giggled at him fawning all over you, looking cute while he wore a warm winter coat, fuzzy earmuffs, a scarf, and his regular white gloves. “Poveretta, tu sei così fredda!” He exclaimed, taking his scarf off and looping it around your neck far too many times until you had to pull it away from covering your mouth.
Secondo was wearing his parka, the one he sometimes wore while playing Uno, and he shoved his brother aside, handing the hot chocolates he was holding to Terzo. His typical scowl softened when he looked at you, and he pulled you into a warm hug and pressed a kiss your forehead.
And finally Primo, who was looking sharp in a tailored wool coat, black turtleneck, and plaid scarf. He hugged you gently and kissed your temple, making you smile endearingly at all the love these men so freely gave you. They were all in their paints, and everyone around you was staring in complete confusion, but it only amused you as you pulled them all closer to you.
“Here, amore, bevi questo!” Terzo cheerfully handed you a hot chocolate and one for Copia.
“Thank you… All of you. You always make me feel so special.” You sighed, finally feeling warm and happy as you sipped the hot drink. They even got you extra marshmallows, just how you liked it.
“We love spending time with you, Dolcezza.”Copia smiled, putting an arm around your shoulders.
“Si, cara, it is always our pleasure to be with you.” Primo nodded.
“A pleasure indeed.” Your Cardinal whispered into your ear, kissing your neck and causing your cheeks to flush even more.
The five of you walked around the park, taking pictures together and making good memories that you would never forget, screaming in laughter as Terzo chased you through one of the light tunnels.
When you had all finished your hot chocolates, you tugged on Copia’s sleeve, catching his attention.
“Si, Topolina?”
“How about we go back to the ministry and warm up, hm?” You whispered into his ear.
He stopped walking then, letting his brothers go on a little ways without you.
“Oh, amore… There is nothing I would want more. I… I love you.” He sighed into you, pressing his pointy nose into your cheek, his moustache tickling the corner of your lips.
“I love you too.. Oh, Copia, I love you. I love you, I love you!” Your heart fluttered as you whispered those words over and over again, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing your sweet Cardinal over and over again, his beautifully odd eyes closing as a soft moan escaped him.
“Are you two coming?” Secondo called back, and the two of you looked over with grins on your faces.
“Not yet, but we will be soon..” Copia murmured to you with a wink, causing you to gasp at him with wide eyes before you giggled, strolling hand in gloved hand to join the three Papas and head back to the ministry.
And you couldn’t help but shake your head in disbelief. Who knew you’d be spending Christmas at the Church of Satan? But with the Papas, with your darling Cardinal, you truly felt that it was where you belonged.
end <3
Happy holidays everyone! 🖤
Tagging: @sucharide @the-hole-in-terzos-shoe @rightintheghoulies @copiaswifey @youhaveahomeinmyheart @mister-girl @faeeeeh
"F*cking V"
A Different spin on an older idea (included below the cut).
The last chapter gave me thoughts about Copia's character arc, in so far as the chapters have character arcs. He seems to be going more villainous.
Anyway I finished a thing. Not entirely happy with it but I've been really struggling with art block as of late so getting anything done feels like an achievement!
GHOST: RITE HERE RITE NOW (2024).
I love this band so much. Just watched RHRN yesterday and loved it.
The band Ghost is so fucking funny to me. Their frontman currently looks like this:
Or some version of a horny goth clown, but the guy underneath it has got the wettest saddest eyes I've ever seen. Just look at him:
This man admits to being very sensitive and cries at the drop of a hat.
He has a wife and kids.
He wears the costume because he doesn't like the way he looks on stage as a rockstar.
He treats the audience like his children. They're officially called the children of Ghost for that and also because of the play on "children of god."
The band literally fucks around on stage while riffing this badass music. They go through physical comedy skits every concert like the three stooges. For example:
Two demons throw guitar picks at each other when they get angy.
One guy grinds and licks the stage like a cat in heat.
One of them shakes their tits at goth clown man and scares him shitless.
One of them twirls goth clown man like a ballerina as he dances by them.
Several of them slap goth clown's ass when he waddles by.
He created the band to make people happy, to celebrate being a fucking weirdo because he always felt left out, and to make fun of Christianity because it makes people feel bad. He lost his older brother, and it tore him up so bad that the music he made as a result launched him into a worldwide music career.
This man ends every concert "ritual" with three things:
1. Be nice to each other
2. Help each other
3. Go fuck yourself
(Literally and figuratively)
Their music is 70% "fuck me I'm so horny", 10% "I love you so much" and 20% "ethereal badass metal".
Look at how much fun he's having, dude.
It's literally just a rock band filled with the nicest people on earth wearing costumes like a Shakespearean play. And all they do is make up funny little lore stories and serve cunt.
Gif by @conjuring-ghouls
still your soul will suffer this plight
had to delete my old blog and restart, but hereee are the twins!! ♡
Can’t unsee IV firing his ARMPIT LASERS
oh gods they really ARE MATCHING
i saw ghovie. and i think i kinda got possessed.
i turned into an artist ghoul and needed to draw Copia. and since i miss his old mask and popial(?)face paint (the rat design!!! aahhhgg such a loss ;-; i grieve daily.) i decided to see how pre-surgery Copia (with his sexy nose) would look like in his newer outfit (i fkn love this jacket!)
oh, also he's got a rrrat. one could say this art has two rrrratsssssss.
hc that Copia has the most atrocious fucking sleepwear (as shown above) and forgets to take his face paint off before bed, occasionally (every time)
——
Projecting my period cramps onto these little fucks
Note: if anyone has any doodle requests, about the ghouls, papas and whatnot, you can always use my askbox or direct messages. I'd be happy to experiment with some ideas (and get to use my Ghoul designs)
some ministry twin doodles
Self care king Copia
——
I thought this was funny even though it‘s super rushed and ugly
Note: if anyone has any doodle requests, about the ghouls, papas and whatnot, you can always use my askbox or direct messages. I'd be happy to experiment with some ideas (and get to use my Ghoul designs)
- Memento Mori -
Todas las promesas de mi amor se irán contigo Me olvidarás Me olvidarás Junto a la estación hoy lloraré igual que un niño Porque te vas Porque te vas
your honor, i love him.
It's you!
Despite everything, it's still you.
i made a suger daddy copia bot on c.ai if anyone wants to live in that fantasy.
here is the intro:
copia was your sugar daddy. he spoiled you and in return you just induldged him, keeping him company and helping him relax after hard work days. copia had called you over to his room, so naturally you got all dressed up for him and did as you were asked.
as you knocked on the door and walked in copia opened the door, his paints not as clean as they had been this morning and his hair a little ruffled "good evening tesoro, please come in" he said as he gestured for you to come inside
Just bought this menace and a ghoulette mask, yippee
Prompt 30 is "Ghost" so of course I HAD to draw some fan art for my favorite band, Ghost! I think Frater Imperator is haunted. 👻
Camellia: Copia x f!reader - Chapter 6
Camellia: n. - A flower which symbolizes a deep desire or longing.
Summary: Even though you have finally begun to translate Elizabeth's diary, you still need context. A visit from the archivist answers some questions but raises even more.
Word count: 4.6k
A/N: Helloooooo! Thank you all again for your extraordinary patience in the long wait for this chapter. It isn't the most eventful (nor am I the proudest of it) but things are definitely happening, and I think you all will enjoy where it's going!
P.s., the identity of the archivist was inspired by the lovely @writingjourney <3
Warnings: Nihil being a bad dad (again), descriptions of anxiety/panic, descriptions of afab people being seen as objects
AO3 / Chapter 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5
Secondo thinks that abdicating the position of Papa might be the best thing to ever happen to him.
That’s not to say he disliked being Papa. Quite the opposite, really—holding the scepter, wearing the crown, and hearing the title were all a generous ego boost. But the aspect he loved the most was that he could promote the tenets of the Lord Below how he wanted, how he felt was most effective. He was the mouthpiece of Satan, the proprietor of His word and the bridge between his unholy flock and the fires of Hell.
But that’s about it. He loved the glory, sure. He did not like the man that the Ministry molded him into. Once he stepped down, it was hard to look himself in the eye without cringing. He was supposed to hold the power for Satan, not the Clergy, and certainly not for Sister Imperator.
Just about the only thing he has to thank that woman for is the time he’s gotten back after “stepping down.”
Secondo has always been interested in the archives, ever since he was a boy. He would sneak around the Abbey in Rome into places he shouldn’t have been and see things he probably shouldn’t have seen, and keep everything he saw to himself. Having the knowledge of secrets he wasn’t supposed to know made him feel important, like he held some power over the Clergy if he decided to open his mouth.
So when he'd stumbled upon a dim room towards the back of the library at the tender age of eight, he thought he’d found the Library of Alexandria. Wall-to-wall shelves of thick leather bound books, stacks of tightly-rolled parchment and linens depicting unholy scenes. An old wooden table holding a desk lamp and a magnifying glass. A single lone lamp that, when he’d pulled the chain to illuminate it, had emanated a click so loud that he thought he’d be caught for sure.
He’d been so disappointed when he realized he couldn’t understand any of the books or scrolls or linens. They were all written in a language unfamiliar, which he knows now to be Latin. But at eight years old, his primary focus was to learn the unholy scripture, to serve Satan in his duties as an altar boy, and to make his father proud.
That last point… he never did accomplish.
But he did eventually learn Latin, so that he could read what was in that dim room. He’d learned to shimmy the lock open (the Roman Abbey is ancient, it wasn’t a difficult task) and sneak in, absorbing as much information as he could.
Secondo learned about rituals that haven’t been done in centuries. He read prayers and psalms that had been forgotten with time. He found drawings of long lost artifacts and relics shrouded in mystery. Each new bit of knowledge gave him that rush of adrenaline that could only come from forbidden things.
When he was old enough, he was allowed into the archive room. Of course, no one had known he’d already spent countless hours there. His father wanted him to know his family history if he were to take up the helm of Papa one day. You need to know what is in your blood, his father had said. Just as Primo does, and just as Terzo will.
Secondo had wanted to ask, what about Copia? But he kept his mouth shut. He didn’t want his archive privileges revoked as soon as he’d gotten them.
The first thing he’d done was find his family tree. Who came before him? Who was Papa before his father, and before his father’s father? How far back did the Emeritus bloodline really go?
It was in the family tome that he first discovered the words Primus Motor. Up until a specific time, every Emeritus heir had been conceived by a woman with the title Prime Mover. Then the women proceeding them had lost that title, with seemingly no pomp or circumstance. Nearly a thousand years ago, the title had been dropped and forgotten. The final Prime Mover, it seems, had been a woman named Elizabeth.
When her diary had been found in some random basement room of the Abbey, Secondo immediately requested to be the archivist in charge. She was his ancestor, and the last Prime Mover on record. Her diary must have an explanation, or some insight as to what exactly a Prime Mover is. There were Prime Mover rituals outlined in those books he’d found as a boy, sure. But none ever explained what the significance was beyond “the chosen maternal body.” It all sounded rather dehumanizing.
But Sister Imperator had told him to keep that fact a secret. She’d brought in a translator to decipher the diary without telling her the whole story. So, he wasn’t terribly surprised to learn that you’d requested to speak to him, or that when he finds you in the restricted room, you look like a deer caught in headlights.
“Papa,” you say, standing to greet him formally. You bow your head out of respect and give him your name. “I can be out of your way, if you need—”
Secondo simply puts a hand up to stop you. “No, sorella. I am here to speak to you about the diary, as you requested.”
Your eyes go so wide that he almost laughs. “Wh-what?” You swallow. “Forgive me, Papa, I didn’t know that you are the archivist who evaluated Elizabeth’s diary…”
“Is that going to be a problem?” Secondo asks.
“No! No,” you scramble, shaking your head slightly to align your own thoughts. His intense gaze pins you to the spot, and not in a good way. Not a bad way, either, but… not in the way Copia’s gaze does.
Determined not to make a fool of yourself, you steel your nerves. “It’s not a problem, Papa. I apologize. I have only… the highest member of the Clergy I have ever met until I arrived here was Bishop Beaumont. I still find myself a bit overwhelmed, sometimes.”
The corners of Secondo’s painted lips tick up at your admission, but he makes no mention of it. “No matter. What is it you wished to discuss?”
You sit and turn your notebook around so Secondo can read the translation of the first line. Today I was chosen to be Papa’s Prime Mover.
“I was wondering,” you begin, “if you might be able to tell me what a Prime Mover is.”
After reading the translated line, Secondo leans back. “I do not know much,” he answers gruffly. “But I do know that it was an esteemed position. Something to do with continuing the bloodline. However the title of Prime Mover is no longer used.”
“How come?” You ask.
“I do not know.”
You hum and look down at Elizabeth’s diary, like it might speak the answer to you itself. Something to do with continuing the bloodline? “Sister Imperator told me that you estimated this diary to be about five hundred years old,” you say. “Is there a reason you chose that number?”
At Secondo’s silence, you meet his eyes again to find that his brows are furrowed and his jaw is set. His lips form a tight line, deepening the clefts beside his mouth. “I only ask because it may help with context,” you offer, defending your question. Your chest flutters with nerves again. You hope you haven’t somehow angered him… he’s quite intimidating.
Secondo’s mind turns. Sister Imperator hadn’t told you that he was the archivist, and she’d told you a different number than the one he’d estimated. She asked him to keep Elizabeth’s status as the last Prime Mover a secret. It seems odd, like she knows something that she wants neither you nor Secondo to. He finds himself annoyed that Sister wants to keep something shrouded in such unnecessary mystery.
“Sister Imperator has given you the wrong number,” he says after a moment of tense silence. “I believe it is nearly a thousand years old.”
“A thousand?” You gape. For a volume that’s a millennium old, it’s in remarkably good shape. You’d thought the same when you believed it was just five hundred years old.
Secondo nods. Whatever reasons that Sister Imperator has for wanting to keep the diary a secret, he doesn’t know. But if he can do anything to learn about his family and its history, or if he can spite Sister… he’ll take that chance. “Elizabeth is the last Prime Mover on record. I do not know why the title was dropped, and I do not know why it is supposed to be such a secret.”
Oh. Yes, you understand. Papa must have his reasons for disliking Sister, and you have your own. If you can contravene her in this small way, a secret kept between an archivist and a translator, you will. You’re slightly ashamed that the thought makes you a little giddy, but not ashamed enough to not do it.
“So,” you guess, “you’re hoping that this diary answers that?”
“Correct,” Papa nods again, and stands. “I ask that you keep me informed, sorella.”
“Of course, Papa,” you say with a polite smile.
He leaves the restricted room and you’re left alone with Elizabeth again. Only this time, there is a new clarity between you and your subject. Your gaze drops down to the pages of jumbled letters, wondering.
Papa Secondo had said that the position of Prime Mover was esteemed. If it had been, why was it dissolved? Perhaps it wasn’t dissolved at all, and it was only forgotten? And… the position is related to the Papal bloodline, so surely these Prime Movers would have been the mothers, right?
The answers lie in front of you, waiting to be translated. Elizabeth herself beckons you with her slanted script, saying, read me. Hear what I have to say.
And how you want to focus. How you want to spend the next weeks painstakingly deciphering letter by letter, word by word until you find these answers which will sate your curiosity. But, damn it to Hell, all you want to do is find Copia and tell him what you’ve found out. You want to tell him that you’re still here, that Sister Imperator had agreed to let you stay after your dramatic, last-minute discovery. You want to ask him all sorts of questions about what he might know of Prime Movers or his ancestors. You want to watch the excitement bloom in his eyes as it always does when you speak about the diary.
You have your reservations, though. Going to Copia on anything other than Ministry business feels like you’re overstepping your position. Who are you to assume that you’re important enough to him to just pop in?
In those moments in the gardens, and in the chapel, though… it sure felt like you were. He had looked at you like you were. In the gardens he was Copia, and you find within yourself that you’d rather be sent back to Liège than see Copia as only Papa again.
~~~
It’s been two days since Copia has seen you. Two full days since he’d watched you half-waddle down the Sibling corridor, soaking wet and shivering and covered in mud from the knees down, and he can’t focus on anything whatsoever.
There’s some official bulletin or another on his desk, awaiting his signature to distribute it out to the rest of the Ministry, but he can’t bring himself to pick up his pen and sign it. Not for a lack of caring—the bulletin is actually quite important—but because he’s conjured up this beautiful picture of you in his head, and he’s afraid that if he moves he’ll lose it.
You must be busy. You’d told him you had an idea about the cipher on your way up the hill out of the gardens, and if he hasn’t so much as gotten a glimpse of you around the Abbey, it must have been a breakthrough. He knows how frustrated you’d been, how determined you were to figure it out, as you’d said. I want to stay and figure it out.
Another part of Copia’s mind, the part he doesn’t want to listen to but that is so very loud, tells him that perhaps your idea had been wrong, and Sister Imperator had sent you home. Maybe the reason he hasn’t seen you is because you’re not even here anymore.
So, he keeps still, his eyes unseeing as he stares into nothing but his own mental image of you. If you’re really gone, at least he has this. You might not be gone, but he’s almost scared to go looking for you because he might find that you are. As it stands, you are Schrödinger's Sister of Sin. Here, and not.
His, and not.
“Al diavolo questo,” Copia grumbles to himself, pushing himself up from his chair. He rounds his desk, sending a few loose papers (including the bulletin he’s supposed to sign by the end of the day) to the floor, and swings open the door to his office. He turns left, towards the library. If there’s a chance he can see you, rather than his limited mental image of you, he’d be foolish not to take it.
His footsteps are determined, bringing him quickly down the stairs to the main artery of the Abbey, and across the wide hall towards the entrance to the library. His breath picks up and his heart pounds in his ears like he’s sprinting. By the end of this agonizing trek to the restricted room, he just might be.
He takes the stairs to the right of the library entrance two at a time. Usually he would smile and wave to whichever Sibling is working the front desk, but not today. The guilt he feels is quickly squashed by the pressing need to either see you or not see you. It feels like it’s eating him up, not knowing.
Copia has tried to be patient and give you time, if you are still here. He knows that what happened between the two of you in the chapel was a lot, all at once, and even if nothing had been said explicitly, you must know. You must.
For a moment, when he reaches the top of the stairs, he wonders why it is that he feels so strongly for you, so quickly. It’s as if Satan himself deposited you on his doorstep, just for him. As if Satan had kept him from sleeping that night, so that you could run right into him outside the restricted room door.
He rounds the corner to walk further into the library, into the shelves of romance books (which, he admits, is rather serendipitous placement). His heart thuds against his sternum when he sees the little square window in the door illuminated. Who else would be in that room with the door closed but you? Who else would have any reason to spend more than five minutes in there, aside from you, or Secondo?
Copia loves his brother. He really does. But he hopes to Lucifer that it isn’t Secondo behind that door, or he might punch him simply for the fact that he’s not you.
He reaches the door, and pauses. His hand rests on the brass doorknob, but doesn’t turn, because what if you are gone?
No, no. You aren’t gone. You can’t be gone.
He turns the handle and pushes the door open on squeaky hinges. There you are, sitting at the desk you always do, head tilted up to see who is at the door. Your brows are slightly raised, your shoulders are hunched—you must be tense from sitting over your work all day—and your finger is placed against that grid of letters as if you had been in the middle of decoding a word when he walked in. The light of the desk lamp attached to your station casts your skin in a warm glow.
If he thought his heart would calm when he saw that you’re still at the Abbey, he was mistaken. Just the sight of you here, that slight hint of heat in your face illuminated so plainly by the desk lamp has his chest vibrating with relief. At least his mind quiets, the tempest of thoughts and questions finally calming after a long, sleepless two days.
“Papa?” You ask, after a long moment. You sit up a bit straighter and tilt your head. The slight crease between your brows returns, and Copia wishes he could kiss it smooth again. “Are you alright?”
Your voice seems to break Copia out of whatever reverie he’s stuck in, because he finally blinks and his jaw closes. “I— eh, yes, I’m alright.”
You slowly stand from your desk and round it, but keep a respectable distance between you and Copia. “You don’t seem alright,” you say. “Copia… what’s wrong?”
It feels like a weight off his shoulders to hear you call him by his name. With you, he’s not Papa. He doesn’t want to be Papa, not to you, not when you’re looking at him like that. “I thought you might have been gone,” Copia breathes, his voice just above a whisper. “I thought she might have sent you back.”
“She didn’t.”
“Good, that’s… good.”
You and Copia stare at one another for another moment. The air is thick with something unspoken.
“I figured it out,” you say. Then you add, “the diary,” because you both know that there are two things you had to figure out. The diary, and… this.
You’re still working on whatever this is, and Copia is still staring at you.
“Copia,” you say with an awkward little smile, “why are you staring at me?”
His own lips curve into a smile. “Sorry, cara mia. I’m just happy you’re not gone.”
“Me, too.”
“So, eh… what is it that you figured out?” Copia asks, blinking a few times in rapid succession. His heart still hammers in his ears.
You round your desk again to turn your notebook over and show him. “She’s clever. Every word requires a new key, which is why we could only decipher one word using her name,” you explain. “Every decoded word is the key to the next one.”
Copia leans over to read the notebook. You have it flipped open to the complete translation of the first line, and his eyes scan the sentence a few times. “Prime Mover?” he asks, looking back up at you.
“I don’t know, either,” you tell him.
He hums in response, his gaze falling back towards the diary and your notebook.
“When were you going to tell me that your brother is the archivist, you ass?”
Copia’s head whips back up, afraid that you’d be actually angry at him. His mouth opens, prepared to defend himself because how would he know that you were planning on speaking to his brother? But he sees your wry grin, and the protest dies on his lips. Instead, he releases an airy laugh and his shoulders drop. “Ah, yes… I suppose I should have mentioned that.”
“Sweet Satan, I made myself look like a fool,” you laugh. “I’m not used to Papas and Cardinals walking around yet. Every time I see one I nearly fall over.”
“You don’t seem so intimidated by me,” Copia says, half relieved and half worried. “What, am I not as scary as Secondo?”
“Not nearly as scary, no! He could stare someone to death,” you say through a chuckle. “That, and when you and I first met, you were wearing sweatpants and rat slippers.”
Copia smiles fondly, though you don’t catch it. “So you’re not starstruck by me, tesoro? I’m hurt.”
“At first I was!” you defend yourself. “But somewhere after that I guess I just… forgot.”
“Forgot to be starstruck?”
“Forgot that you are Papa.”
Oh. Oh, Copia could kiss you, you sweet thing. He doesn’t ever want to go this long without seeing you again. It’s all he can do to stop himself from walking over to you and sweeping you up in his arms and kissing you silly. His hands itch to hold you but you aren’t ready for that yet. So he says instead, “I don’t want to be Papa with you.”
Your heart rises to your throat. “You don’t?”
“No,” Copia says softly. “I don’t.”
You have to fight off the smile threatening to stretch your lips. You don’t want him to be Papa with you either, but you don’t know what you do want him to be to you.
You do know that you want him to kiss you. You do know that the thought of leaving the Abbey without resolving whatever this is made your heart ache, but that talking about whatever this is would make it real and that terrifies you. You do know that falling in love with him means you have something to lose. It’s not quite that, not yet, but… it could be.
Copia can see your mind working itself in circles. He knows that you’ll talk yourself out of it—whatever it is—if he doesn’t intervene. “Tesoro,” he calls to you, pulling your focus back out from inside your head. When he’s certain you can see him and not just through him, he takes a slow step forward and gently reaches for your hand. The white linen of your gloves, worn while you handle the diary, is a stark contrast to the black leather of his. It slips against his glove and settles into his palm like your hands were crafted for him to hold. Sathanas, your hands are perfect. You are perfect. “Please… tell me you know. Tell me you feel it.”
Your eyes are wide when they meet his own. “I know,” you whisper. Your voice is shaky with the weight of speaking your feelings, making them real. “And I don’t.”
His thumb rubs circles on your knuckles. “Cara… you know. You must.”
“I…” you swallow dryly. “I do, but it’s… it’s scary, Copia. It’s happening and I have no control over it and…”
“And?” Copia whispers. He takes your other hand, stepping just close enough that you can feel his breath ghost across your cheeks.
“And I will have to leave,” you respond. Your eyes burn with unshed tears that you desperately try to blink away. “As soon as the diary is done, I will have to go back.”
Copia looks at you for a silent moment. His eyes search your face, noticing all the details he hadn’t noticed before. This is the closest he’s ever been to you. A tear rolls down your cheek and he reaches up to swipe it away with his thumb, but doesn’t return his hand to his side. It cradles your face like you’re something precious, and to him, you are.
He gently tugs you closer and wraps his arms around you, holding you against him. You tuck your head under his chin, savoring the smell of him, the comfort of his embrace and the warmth of his body through his suit. “It will be alright, carissima mia.”
You shut your eyes and two fat tears escape as you do. Your body shudders with a repressed sob.
Copia simply holds you closer, fighting back tears of his own.
He’d nearly forgotten. Of course you would have to leave again, once your project was done. Just because you’re here now, doesn’t mean you will always be here.
Maybe there are ways to have you stay. Maybe if he asked Sister Imperator, she would find a place for you here, doing translation as your sole duty. But can he keep you away from your home, when it’s so obvious how fond you are of it? How could he ask you to stay, knowing you would miss Marseille the whole time?
Copia squeezes you tighter. “Will you do something for me?” He asks so, so softly. One of his hands strokes the back of your head, drawing you closer into his embrace. “Come and work in my office with me, yes? Just for a little while. Or a day or two, maybe. I hate that you’re all alone up here.”
“I can do that,” you say, and draw away from him slightly so you can look at him. You’re sure you must look a mess with your eyes puffy and nose running. But standing this close to him, clutching the fabric of his shirt like it grounds you to the world, you can’t bring yourself to care. “But I need permission from Papa or Sister Imperator to remove the diary from this room.”
Copia smiles. “Well, I have good news, then,” he says with a quirk of his brow. “There’s a Papa right here. Perhaps you should ask him?”
“Right, yes, I forgot,” you laugh. “Papa, do I have your permission to take Elizabeth’s diary out of the restricted room?”
Copia laughs back and his breath is warm on your cheek. “Yes, tesoro, you have my permission. Only if you bring it straight to my office.”
“Of course, Papa,” you nod, smiling.
“Bene! Let me help you with your things.”
Copia steps away and releases you from his grasp to help you gather your materials. For a brief moment you’re disappointed, but your cheeks warm at the thought that maybe he might hold you again in the safety and comfort of his office. Maybe you might gather the courage to allow yourself to feel the feelings you’re desperately trying to suppress, and maybe he might feel them back.
But, you chuckle at his charming urgency to help you. You work on wrapping Elizabeth’s diary in its linens, and placing it in a wooden box you retrieve from a small shelf in the corner of the room. You still wear your white gloves.
“Shall we?” Copia gestures to the open door once you’re both done preparing to leave. His eyes shine with mirth and something you might think was affection if you weren’t doubtful to a fault.
“We shall,” you reply. He lets you slip past him and out the door, then falls into step beside you as you make your way down the curved staircase.
~~~
March 27
Today I was chosen to be Papa’s Prime Mover.
Mother said it is a gift from Satan to be chosen. I am to conceive the next Papa, and continue the bloodline with the blessing of the Olde One.
Truthfully, I am frightened. Mother said that it is now my only duty. She said it is an extreme privilege to be a Prime Mover and to carry the blood of Emeritus inside me. But I did not get a say. I was chosen, and that was the end. Papa did not even tell me himself, it was Mother. She said it is better to hear the good news from the mouth of the fairer sex, from the woman who did her duty as I must.
Fairer sex. I must laugh at that. Fairer sex, and yet I must be a vessel for Emeritus blood at the whim of Satan. Fairer sex because I am beautiful but better to be seen and not heard. And yet I am expected to carry and birth the most powerful man in the Ministry, a power that no one else has. To ‘fairer sex’ I bite my thumb.
There is to be a ritual tomorrow night, to solidify my role as Papa’s Prime Mover. I am horrified. Mother said that a woman can only hope to be so lucky as to be Prime Mover. Must I pray to be a bred heifer? What of me? What of my own wishes?
I believed the Dark Lord to be wiser than this. I believed he would not ordain any sex to be lesser than the other. I believed in his doctrine of free choice, of fairness and civility, after having been cast down for disobeying. My faith wavers.
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Mummy Dust - Papa Copia 💚 Australia, Sydney 2023
i have never been more grateful
Thank you, Texas, for making this happen 🖤
He's having fun with the new ghoul.. .
This was an excuse to try out a new brush🦇
RED SUIT COPIA RED SUIT COPIA
