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It Is A Long Way Down...

@from-the-pinnacle

Where I'm throwing my Ghost Garbage. Fanfiction and Headcanons coming. Requests are Open Call me Brother Nico, he/him, 30. MDNI, queer and trans friendly space.

Introductions are in order...

MDNI

Ageless blogs will be blocked, under 18 will be blocked.

✤ My name is Nicolas Albero, please call me Nico or Brother Nico

✤ Trans man, he/him

✤ 30 years old

✤ In character posts will be tagged as such

  • Nico is a Brother of Blasphemy
  • Works primarily in the library, helping to restore and bind books, but also does regular library duties
  • Grew up outside of the Ministry and was raised Lutheran/Catholic (depending on which parent he was with at the time)
  • A quiet observer, he has a lot of dirt and gossip on a lot of people (and ghouls)

✤This blog is mainly for Ghost related things, but I also enjoy:

  • Classic Literature (Dante's Inferno is a big one)
  • Esoterica
  • Writing
  • Erotica

✤ I like Albrecht Dürer, classic horror movies, slashers, and cats

Follows from @nikkyatyourservice

Masterlist (under construction)

Just A Man - ficlet, Terzo x GN! Reader (but only technically), one night stand, identity issues

✤ Trans Primo Headcanons 1 2

Cultural Differences - ficlet, Ghoul!reader x Any Papa, unrequited affection, miscommunication

✤ General Ghost/Ministry Headcanons 1 2 3

Baptism | Part 1

This is idea smacked me over the head with a frying pan and I couldn't let it go. Writing Terzo for the first time, please be kind, he is a strange, wonderful little man.

You've left behind so much of your old life - your name, your faith, your gender, but there is one thing that still lingers, and you can only think of one man to help you rid yourself of it.

Content for full fic: Papa Emeritus III x FTM Reader, deflowering/virginity kink, corruption kink, blasphemy kink, ritualized sex, piv, heavy foreplay, mild intox

Content: Talk about Reader's life before transition as a nun (Reader briefly refers to their former self as a woman), Terzo being extremely forward, talk about past sexual experiences, dom!Terzo

-

"...you are certain of this, then, caro?"

The air in the papal office felt heavy as the third Emeritus spoke, though his posture was casual as he leaned back in his chair. He swirled the amber liquid in his glass languidly, one leg crossed over the other, his eyes not on you but on the swirling liquor. It did little to make you feel more comfortable, your spine ram rod straight, face flushed and sweat beading along your hairline.

"Yes, your Unholiness," you said softly, your voice sounding small even to your own ears. "I am. I've... Thought about this quite a lot."

there is something so poetic about Copia’s ‘debut song’ (Pro Memoria) being all about memento mori and ‘don’t forget about your friend death’. All the while it sounds like this haunts him, which later becomes kind of his theme. The idea of ‘his friend death’ waiting for him. He’s terrified of being killed and his life ending.

All the while one of Perpetua’s first songs (Excelsis) is all about ‘hey, I’m scared of dying too, that’s okay’. How the entire Skeletá album is about accepting and finding peace in death and eternity even though one may be scared of those things.

In a way it very much feels like they’re talking to each other, or at least Perpetua talking to Copia. Trying to comfort his brother and show that, even though they don’t know each other well, he is there for him and understands how he feels.

Death and eternity is such a big and important factor in the Ghost lore and I find it so fascinating and poetic how careful and beautiful it’s handled, especially as someone with severe thanatophobia myself

years ago i watched this p/orn and the girl was screaming ‘oh god!! oh god!!!’ and the dude was like ‘there are no gods here’ and to this day it haunts me wtf was he talking about

A favorite, quoted in my household, featured a young lass about to be fucked by a cowboy and she says to him “I ain’t ever been with a man before!” And the dude, an incredible actor, says firmly “and you ain’t gonna today. Look into my eyes, I am the devil himself.” It fucking rocked.

If I do ever come into millions and gillions of fat stacks of dollars, mark me, I’ll create a porn company that turns out only well written and freakish porn for this undeserving world.

And that is a promise.

Anonymous asked:

There was a knock on the office door and, after a moment, Nico entered, a small cardboard box in hand. In it was every smart device from the archives - three cell phones and tablets, all in Ministry branded cases, as well as their charger cords and accessories. He wordlessly set it on Copia's desk, perhaps a touch harder than was necessary (or that he'd intended to), and straightened stiffly.

"...Maintenance says the old phone will be working by the time I return," he said, his tone clipped but professional. "The archive extension is the same," then, after a pause, "You'll be happy to know it's rotary - and that the other staff are extremely pleased with me for this."

He couldn't help the sarcastic edge to his voice, even as he tried to keep his tongue in check. It had been what got him into this inconvence anyway.

Oh, goody.

Copia clapped his hands together, visibly pleased with himself in a way that looked slightly disturbing, yet simultaneously childlike. It closely resembled a twelve-year-old finding a dead insect and plotting to put it down the back of someone’s shirt.

And one more thing I forgot. You’ll need a contact list, won’t you? No more speed dial. Here.

He set the item on his desk with a thunk, pushing it with his index finger across the desk to Nico.

They call this a Rolodex.

And on top of that, you’ll need the card catalogs, won’t you? So you can find all of your materials, of course. One moment.

He stood, walking out to the hallway. Returning a moment later, he grunted with the effort of pushing a massive, solid wood, 45-year-old cabinet. It rolled to a slow stop just inside the office door, groaning under its own weight.

This is letters A to… G, I believe. By last name. Can you believe it? Sister happened to be keeping these in her old office, and someone had the very smart idea to hang onto them, just in case.

Copia wiped his brow and brightened, delighted by his own trick. His expression grew even more shit-eating, if that were physically possible.

And don’t worry! It never runs out of battery, so you can look up anything you want, at any time.

He glanced aside at Nico, quickly looking away. His expression briefly grew serious as he spoke, purposefully looking at nobody.

If anyone is less than pleased, you send them to me. Chiaro?

And just as quickly, back to the “fun.” He threw an arm around Nico’s shoulder, patting his upper arm in the mockery of a friendly gesture.

You will get used to it. After all, I dealt with it for decades.

Avatar

"Go?"

Nico's brow furrowed in confusion, his anger dissipating slowly, like mist under sunlight. Every thing about Copia seemed small now, child-like again, but not in the same way as before. This was not a little boy crashing action figures into each other - this was someone ashamed. Scared.

And maybe he deserved some of it, yes, of course. He was right, he had been thoughtless, and it was clear he was feeling that - but there was something else. Something older, a deeper wound he'd prodded at unintentionally, and the glimpse of that pain made Nico's stomach twist.

"I don't want you to go, Copia," he said softly, holding a hand out to him, plaintive, imploring. "I-I-" the first word that came to mind was too much, even for him to just glance over internally "-care about you. Deeply. I know you're a good man, I know you're better than this. That's why it hurt."

He moved slowly again, taking his hand, skin to skin, his own fingers taking over the work Copia's had been doing. His thumb pressed firmly into the cup of his palm, his eyes now downcast to his work. He could feel how slick they were with sweat, maybe even the slightest tremble in them.

"...I've never seen you without your gloves," he said softly, trying to steer the conversation somewhere else. "Your hands, they're softer than I thought..." So much about him seemed softer than he'd expected. Vulnerable.

Mm.

Copia mumbled in acknowledgment, unable to come up with anything substantial.

You should be angrier with me. You have every right to.

Still, he couldn’t bring himself to apologize. Two words that should be very easy, were as distant as the sun. Not that he didn’t think he should, but he danced around it, implied it, tried to self-flagellate as a substitute.

I am not as good as you think I am. Look at me.

He waved loosely at himself.

I did not get this job for being a good man. Not even an “okay” one.

You are not all… As tied up in this as me. You do not deserve to be wrapped up in all of my problems.

Copia’s gaze was pained in a way that comes only from time. Lots and lots of time, and even more time to think back on it and wonder how it could have gone better.

It would not be right to do that to you.

He pulled his hand from Nico’s, snapping back to a slightly more normal Copia. One that was a bit more presentable. More put-together.

You should not feel obligated to do this, just because I am your boss.

He wiped his hands on his pant leg, making the faintest suggestion of a joke to play it off.

My hands are sweaty.

"...this isn't because your my boss, Copia."

Those simple words felt like a bigger confession than they should have been. Like he was cracking open his sternum just enough to let Copia see a glimpse of what was inside, just the slightest flash to mirror what he'd accidentally uncovered.

"It's never been about that. And it's not obligation," he added, his gaze falling to where his hands were now clasped tightly in front of him. He brushed his thumb over his knuckles, his brow furrowing slightly. "I mean, if you'd have made me do this-" he motioned to the cabinet, the rolodex "- I would have. You're Frater now, I am a clergyman. It is what it is.

"But this," he continued, glancing almost nervously at Copia, motioning to the space between them. "This isn't - it was never about Frater. Or Papa or Cardinal. It's about my friend."

Copia finally looked up from his shoes and turned to Nico.

I see.

The words sat in the air for a while. Their weight was clear.

Copia’s other hand settled on top of Nico’s and gave it a squeeze.

I have made a big ass of myself, haven’t I? Not that it’s very hard to do.

I’m sorry.

He reached into his pocket and, after a moment of crinkling noises, pulled out two individually-wrapped peppermints that had clearly been in there for a while. He wordlessly offered one to Nico in a cupped hand as a proverbial olive branch, and popped the other into his mouth. He rolled it around his palate in thought.

I hope you know I don’t ever mean you any harm, Nico. Just the opposite. I want you to have fun. Enjoy life. Not take things too seriously, like I did. To have more friends than I did. To be better than I am, someday.

Nico took the mint, the flavor sharp on his tongue. It was refreshing, the palate cleanser it was intended to be, something to help remove the bitterness from his tongue. He hummed softly, rolling the cellophane in his fingers contemplatively, enjoying the crinkle.

"I know, Copia," he said, and he smiled, soft, small. "You just got carried away. To be frank, it's usually charming," he added, turning to glance again at the massive card catalogue. "I must admit, the sheer amount of effort you put into this is impressive. You don't really half ass things. I mean, that's got to weigh, what? Over 150 lbs, easy, just the cabinet."

He didn't say it, given they were patching things up, but he was surprised the old man still had it in him anymore. Hell, he hadn't even thought he had it in him to begin with.

"I might still take that down with me - we should cross reference it with the digital records, see of Sister was hiding anything interesting from us." He paused, shoulders relaxing, that smile sharpening slightly. "And I can always just get you back for this. Maybe I'll change all the contacts on your phone to the same picture and name, let you untangle that. Oh, or I could change your autocorrect, that's always a good one. Email signatures, Siri, the [MESSAGES TO THE CLERGY] - I'm sure I can think of something..."

Copia preened just a bit at that. He perked up slightly, looking sidelong at Nico.

You’ve got to stay fit on tour— sometimes I would help the roadies. Move a few equipment crates around. I did not want to be some primadonna that doesn’t carry his own weight.

That might be a good idea, getting those checked. You never know, with how she was… Is?

He chuckled, shaking his head at Nico.

You forget that us fossils had to memorize people’s phone numbers before we had a contacts list. We didn’t always have a phone book on hand, either. I have plenty of them up here.

He tapped his temple.

Just in case.

Copia smiled.

Besides, if you do anything technological to me, I can get away with it. I can just pretend I’m old and clueless. Just look at how long Nihil got away with his bullshit… I know for a fact he wasn’t as senile as he made himself out to be. You could see it in his eyes. He was just a lazy ass who wanted people to do it all for him.

The verb tense in regards to Sister didn't go over Nico's head, but he didn't comment on it. Grief did things to people, strange, unexpected things - he wouldn't have been surprised to hear Copia still thought of his predecessor - his mother, as the rumor mill had turned put to be true - was still around, though the idea of a supernatural element wouldn't have crossed his mind.

"Oh, I'm sure you could handle yourself," he assured Copia, rolling up his sleeve as he approached the cabinet on its dolly. "That's not the point, is it? The point is to see you sweat a little."

He gripped both sides, brows furrowing as he started to push. He cursed under his breath as it inched forward, his hair falling out of place across his forehead before he stopped to glance back at Copia imploringly. "Speaking of sweat, care to help, Frater?" he asked softly. "You are such a strong, virile stallion, after all. Just to the freight elevator?"

Copia raised an eyebrow, grinning.

You want to see me sweat? Filthy. I see.

He strode over to the cabinet in faux resignation, waving Nico’s wheedling off as he put his gloves back on. He flexed his hands to adjust the fit before placing them on the side of the cabinet.

Alright, alright. Don’t kiss my ass too much, or you get a brown nose, you know.

He grunted lowly, pushing the cabinet out the door and a few feet into the hallway. He turned back to Nico, who still stood in his office, watching wordlessly.

Come on, andiamo. Where are you needing this? The front or the back?

Nico's brain stopped functioning properly for a moment, the low groan and the double entendre not going unnoticed at all. He couldn't be sure if Copia meant it, given the kind of man he was. It wouldn't be the first time he'd done something like this, but Nico's mind could only concentrate on the implications.

And dio scuro, the way he'd said 'filthy', the cock of his brow, the fabric of his jacket stretched taunt across his shoulders as he pushed, the memory of the soft flesh of his hand in his own, knowing the painted curve of his mouth had to taste like mint-

"...anywhere you'd like, sir," he managed, praying to every infernal saint that his face was not as red as it felt.

Copia shrugged.

Alright. The front it is. I thought you might want the cabinet out of the way of visitors, but I am not the archivist here.

He continued to push the cabinet down the hallway towards the freight elevator, teasingly calling to Nico behind him.

You’re going to catch flies, ragazzo… Hurry and press the elevator buttons for me, please.

[END SCENE.]

Anonymous asked:

There was a knock on the office door and, after a moment, Nico entered, a small cardboard box in hand. In it was every smart device from the archives - three cell phones and tablets, all in Ministry branded cases, as well as their charger cords and accessories. He wordlessly set it on Copia's desk, perhaps a touch harder than was necessary (or that he'd intended to), and straightened stiffly.

"...Maintenance says the old phone will be working by the time I return," he said, his tone clipped but professional. "The archive extension is the same," then, after a pause, "You'll be happy to know it's rotary - and that the other staff are extremely pleased with me for this."

He couldn't help the sarcastic edge to his voice, even as he tried to keep his tongue in check. It had been what got him into this inconvence anyway.

Oh, goody.

Copia clapped his hands together, visibly pleased with himself in a way that looked slightly disturbing, yet simultaneously childlike. It closely resembled a twelve-year-old finding a dead insect and plotting to put it down the back of someone’s shirt.

And one more thing I forgot. You’ll need a contact list, won’t you? No more speed dial. Here.

He set the item on his desk with a thunk, pushing it with his index finger across the desk to Nico.

They call this a Rolodex.

And on top of that, you’ll need the card catalogs, won’t you? So you can find all of your materials, of course. One moment.

He stood, walking out to the hallway. Returning a moment later, he grunted with the effort of pushing a massive, solid wood, 45-year-old cabinet. It rolled to a slow stop just inside the office door, groaning under its own weight.

This is letters A to… G, I believe. By last name. Can you believe it? Sister happened to be keeping these in her old office, and someone had the very smart idea to hang onto them, just in case.

Copia wiped his brow and brightened, delighted by his own trick. His expression grew even more shit-eating, if that were physically possible.

And don’t worry! It never runs out of battery, so you can look up anything you want, at any time.

He glanced aside at Nico, quickly looking away. His expression briefly grew serious as he spoke, purposefully looking at nobody.

If anyone is less than pleased, you send them to me. Chiaro?

And just as quickly, back to the “fun.” He threw an arm around Nico’s shoulder, patting his upper arm in the mockery of a friendly gesture.

You will get used to it. After all, I dealt with it for decades.

Avatar

"Go?"

Nico's brow furrowed in confusion, his anger dissipating slowly, like mist under sunlight. Every thing about Copia seemed small now, child-like again, but not in the same way as before. This was not a little boy crashing action figures into each other - this was someone ashamed. Scared.

And maybe he deserved some of it, yes, of course. He was right, he had been thoughtless, and it was clear he was feeling that - but there was something else. Something older, a deeper wound he'd prodded at unintentionally, and the glimpse of that pain made Nico's stomach twist.

"I don't want you to go, Copia," he said softly, holding a hand out to him, plaintive, imploring. "I-I-" the first word that came to mind was too much, even for him to just glance over internally "-care about you. Deeply. I know you're a good man, I know you're better than this. That's why it hurt."

He moved slowly again, taking his hand, skin to skin, his own fingers taking over the work Copia's had been doing. His thumb pressed firmly into the cup of his palm, his eyes now downcast to his work. He could feel how slick they were with sweat, maybe even the slightest tremble in them.

"...I've never seen you without your gloves," he said softly, trying to steer the conversation somewhere else. "Your hands, they're softer than I thought..." So much about him seemed softer than he'd expected. Vulnerable.

Mm.

Copia mumbled in acknowledgment, unable to come up with anything substantial.

You should be angrier with me. You have every right to.

Still, he couldn’t bring himself to apologize. Two words that should be very easy, were as distant as the sun. Not that he didn’t think he should, but he danced around it, implied it, tried to self-flagellate as a substitute.

I am not as good as you think I am. Look at me.

He waved loosely at himself.

I did not get this job for being a good man. Not even an “okay” one.

You are not all… As tied up in this as me. You do not deserve to be wrapped up in all of my problems.

Copia’s gaze was pained in a way that comes only from time. Lots and lots of time, and even more time to think back on it and wonder how it could have gone better.

It would not be right to do that to you.

He pulled his hand from Nico’s, snapping back to a slightly more normal Copia. One that was a bit more presentable. More put-together.

You should not feel obligated to do this, just because I am your boss.

He wiped his hands on his pant leg, making the faintest suggestion of a joke to play it off.

My hands are sweaty.

"...this isn't because your my boss, Copia."

Those simple words felt like a bigger confession than they should have been. Like he was cracking open his sternum just enough to let Copia see a glimpse of what was inside, just the slightest flash to mirror what he'd accidentally uncovered.

"It's never been about that. And it's not obligation," he added, his gaze falling to where his hands were now clasped tightly in front of him. He brushed his thumb over his knuckles, his brow furrowing slightly. "I mean, if you'd have made me do this-" he motioned to the cabinet, the rolodex "- I would have. You're Frater now, I am a clergyman. It is what it is.

"But this," he continued, glancing almost nervously at Copia, motioning to the space between them. "This isn't - it was never about Frater. Or Papa or Cardinal. It's about my friend."

Copia finally looked up from his shoes and turned to Nico.

I see.

The words sat in the air for a while. Their weight was clear.

Copia’s other hand settled on top of Nico’s and gave it a squeeze.

I have made a big ass of myself, haven’t I? Not that it’s very hard to do.

I’m sorry.

He reached into his pocket and, after a moment of crinkling noises, pulled out two individually-wrapped peppermints that had clearly been in there for a while. He wordlessly offered one to Nico in a cupped hand as a proverbial olive branch, and popped the other into his mouth. He rolled it around his palate in thought.

I hope you know I don’t ever mean you any harm, Nico. Just the opposite. I want you to have fun. Enjoy life. Not take things too seriously, like I did. To have more friends than I did. To be better than I am, someday.

Nico took the mint, the flavor sharp on his tongue. It was refreshing, the palate cleanser it was intended to be, something to help remove the bitterness from his tongue. He hummed softly, rolling the cellophane in his fingers contemplatively, enjoying the crinkle.

"I know, Copia," he said, and he smiled, soft, small. "You just got carried away. To be frank, it's usually charming," he added, turning to glance again at the massive card catalogue. "I must admit, the sheer amount of effort you put into this is impressive. You don't really half ass things. I mean, that's got to weigh, what? Over 150 lbs, easy, just the cabinet."

He didn't say it, given they were patching things up, but he was surprised the old man still had it in him anymore. Hell, he hadn't even thought he had it in him to begin with.

"I might still take that down with me - we should cross reference it with the digital records, see of Sister was hiding anything interesting from us." He paused, shoulders relaxing, that smile sharpening slightly. "And I can always just get you back for this. Maybe I'll change all the contacts on your phone to the same picture and name, let you untangle that. Oh, or I could change your autocorrect, that's always a good one. Email signatures, Siri, the [MESSAGES TO THE CLERGY] - I'm sure I can think of something..."

Copia preened just a bit at that. He perked up slightly, looking sidelong at Nico.

You’ve got to stay fit on tour— sometimes I would help the roadies. Move a few equipment crates around. I did not want to be some primadonna that doesn’t carry his own weight.

That might be a good idea, getting those checked. You never know, with how she was… Is?

He chuckled, shaking his head at Nico.

You forget that us fossils had to memorize people’s phone numbers before we had a contacts list. We didn’t always have a phone book on hand, either. I have plenty of them up here.

He tapped his temple.

Just in case.

Copia smiled.

Besides, if you do anything technological to me, I can get away with it. I can just pretend I’m old and clueless. Just look at how long Nihil got away with his bullshit… I know for a fact he wasn’t as senile as he made himself out to be. You could see it in his eyes. He was just a lazy ass who wanted people to do it all for him.

The verb tense in regards to Sister didn't go over Nico's head, but he didn't comment on it. Grief did things to people, strange, unexpected things - he wouldn't have been surprised to hear Copia still thought of his predecessor - his mother, as the rumor mill had turned put to be true - was still around, though the idea of a supernatural element wouldn't have crossed his mind.

"Oh, I'm sure you could handle yourself," he assured Copia, rolling up his sleeve as he approached the cabinet on its dolly. "That's not the point, is it? The point is to see you sweat a little."

He gripped both sides, brows furrowing as he started to push. He cursed under his breath as it inched forward, his hair falling out of place across his forehead before he stopped to glance back at Copia imploringly. "Speaking of sweat, care to help, Frater?" he asked softly. "You are such a strong, virile stallion, after all. Just to the freight elevator?"

Copia raised an eyebrow, grinning.

You want to see me sweat? Filthy. I see.

He strode over to the cabinet in faux resignation, waving Nico’s wheedling off as he put his gloves back on. He flexed his hands to adjust the fit before placing them on the side of the cabinet.

Alright, alright. Don’t kiss my ass too much, or you get a brown nose, you know.

He grunted lowly, pushing the cabinet out the door and a few feet into the hallway. He turned back to Nico, who still stood in his office, watching wordlessly.

Come on, andiamo. Where are you needing this? The front or the back?

Nico's brain stopped functioning properly for a moment, the low groan and the double entendre not going unnoticed at all. He couldn't be sure if Copia meant it, given the kind of man he was. It wouldn't be the first time he'd done something like this, but Nico's mind could only concentrate on the implications.

And dio scuro, the way he'd said 'filthy', the cock of his brow, the fabric of his jacket stretched taunt across his shoulders as he pushed, the memory of the soft flesh of his hand in his own, knowing the painted curve of his mouth had to taste like mint-

"...anywhere you'd like, sir," he managed, praying to every infernal saint that his face was not as red as it felt.

Anonymous asked:

There was a knock on the office door and, after a moment, Nico entered, a small cardboard box in hand. In it was every smart device from the archives - three cell phones and tablets, all in Ministry branded cases, as well as their charger cords and accessories. He wordlessly set it on Copia's desk, perhaps a touch harder than was necessary (or that he'd intended to), and straightened stiffly.

"...Maintenance says the old phone will be working by the time I return," he said, his tone clipped but professional. "The archive extension is the same," then, after a pause, "You'll be happy to know it's rotary - and that the other staff are extremely pleased with me for this."

He couldn't help the sarcastic edge to his voice, even as he tried to keep his tongue in check. It had been what got him into this inconvence anyway.

Oh, goody.

Copia clapped his hands together, visibly pleased with himself in a way that looked slightly disturbing, yet simultaneously childlike. It closely resembled a twelve-year-old finding a dead insect and plotting to put it down the back of someone’s shirt.

And one more thing I forgot. You’ll need a contact list, won’t you? No more speed dial. Here.

He set the item on his desk with a thunk, pushing it with his index finger across the desk to Nico.

They call this a Rolodex.

And on top of that, you’ll need the card catalogs, won’t you? So you can find all of your materials, of course. One moment.

He stood, walking out to the hallway. Returning a moment later, he grunted with the effort of pushing a massive, solid wood, 45-year-old cabinet. It rolled to a slow stop just inside the office door, groaning under its own weight.

This is letters A to… G, I believe. By last name. Can you believe it? Sister happened to be keeping these in her old office, and someone had the very smart idea to hang onto them, just in case.

Copia wiped his brow and brightened, delighted by his own trick. His expression grew even more shit-eating, if that were physically possible.

And don’t worry! It never runs out of battery, so you can look up anything you want, at any time.

He glanced aside at Nico, quickly looking away. His expression briefly grew serious as he spoke, purposefully looking at nobody.

If anyone is less than pleased, you send them to me. Chiaro?

And just as quickly, back to the “fun.” He threw an arm around Nico’s shoulder, patting his upper arm in the mockery of a friendly gesture.

You will get used to it. After all, I dealt with it for decades.

Avatar

"Go?"

Nico's brow furrowed in confusion, his anger dissipating slowly, like mist under sunlight. Every thing about Copia seemed small now, child-like again, but not in the same way as before. This was not a little boy crashing action figures into each other - this was someone ashamed. Scared.

And maybe he deserved some of it, yes, of course. He was right, he had been thoughtless, and it was clear he was feeling that - but there was something else. Something older, a deeper wound he'd prodded at unintentionally, and the glimpse of that pain made Nico's stomach twist.

"I don't want you to go, Copia," he said softly, holding a hand out to him, plaintive, imploring. "I-I-" the first word that came to mind was too much, even for him to just glance over internally "-care about you. Deeply. I know you're a good man, I know you're better than this. That's why it hurt."

He moved slowly again, taking his hand, skin to skin, his own fingers taking over the work Copia's had been doing. His thumb pressed firmly into the cup of his palm, his eyes now downcast to his work. He could feel how slick they were with sweat, maybe even the slightest tremble in them.

"...I've never seen you without your gloves," he said softly, trying to steer the conversation somewhere else. "Your hands, they're softer than I thought..." So much about him seemed softer than he'd expected. Vulnerable.

Mm.

Copia mumbled in acknowledgment, unable to come up with anything substantial.

You should be angrier with me. You have every right to.

Still, he couldn’t bring himself to apologize. Two words that should be very easy, were as distant as the sun. Not that he didn’t think he should, but he danced around it, implied it, tried to self-flagellate as a substitute.

I am not as good as you think I am. Look at me.

He waved loosely at himself.

I did not get this job for being a good man. Not even an “okay” one.

You are not all… As tied up in this as me. You do not deserve to be wrapped up in all of my problems.

Copia’s gaze was pained in a way that comes only from time. Lots and lots of time, and even more time to think back on it and wonder how it could have gone better.

It would not be right to do that to you.

He pulled his hand from Nico’s, snapping back to a slightly more normal Copia. One that was a bit more presentable. More put-together.

You should not feel obligated to do this, just because I am your boss.

He wiped his hands on his pant leg, making the faintest suggestion of a joke to play it off.

My hands are sweaty.

"...this isn't because your my boss, Copia."

Those simple words felt like a bigger confession than they should have been. Like he was cracking open his sternum just enough to let Copia see a glimpse of what was inside, just the slightest flash to mirror what he'd accidentally uncovered.

"It's never been about that. And it's not obligation," he added, his gaze falling to where his hands were now clasped tightly in front of him. He brushed his thumb over his knuckles, his brow furrowing slightly. "I mean, if you'd have made me do this-" he motioned to the cabinet, the rolodex "- I would have. You're Frater now, I am a clergyman. It is what it is.

"But this," he continued, glancing almost nervously at Copia, motioning to the space between them. "This isn't - it was never about Frater. Or Papa or Cardinal. It's about my friend."

Copia finally looked up from his shoes and turned to Nico.

I see.

The words sat in the air for a while. Their weight was clear.

Copia’s other hand settled on top of Nico’s and gave it a squeeze.

I have made a big ass of myself, haven’t I? Not that it’s very hard to do.

I’m sorry.

He reached into his pocket and, after a moment of crinkling noises, pulled out two individually-wrapped peppermints that had clearly been in there for a while. He wordlessly offered one to Nico in a cupped hand as a proverbial olive branch, and popped the other into his mouth. He rolled it around his palate in thought.

I hope you know I don’t ever mean you any harm, Nico. Just the opposite. I want you to have fun. Enjoy life. Not take things too seriously, like I did. To have more friends than I did. To be better than I am, someday.

Nico took the mint, the flavor sharp on his tongue. It was refreshing, the palate cleanser it was intended to be, something to help remove the bitterness from his tongue. He hummed softly, rolling the cellophane in his fingers contemplatively, enjoying the crinkle.

"I know, Copia," he said, and he smiled, soft, small. "You just got carried away. To be frank, it's usually charming," he added, turning to glance again at the massive card catalogue. "I must admit, the sheer amount of effort you put into this is impressive. You don't really half ass things. I mean, that's got to weigh, what? Over 150 lbs, easy, just the cabinet."

He didn't say it, given they were patching things up, but he was surprised the old man still had it in him anymore. Hell, he hadn't even thought he had it in him to begin with.

"I might still take that down with me - we should cross reference it with the digital records, see of Sister was hiding anything interesting from us." He paused, shoulders relaxing, that smile sharpening slightly. "And I can always just get you back for this. Maybe I'll change all the contacts on your phone to the same picture and name, let you untangle that. Oh, or I could change your autocorrect, that's always a good one. Email signatures, Siri, the [MESSAGES TO THE CLERGY] - I'm sure I can think of something..."

Copia preened just a bit at that. He perked up slightly, looking sidelong at Nico.

You’ve got to stay fit on tour— sometimes I would help the roadies. Move a few equipment crates around. I did not want to be some primadonna that doesn’t carry his own weight.

That might be a good idea, getting those checked. You never know, with how she was… Is?

He chuckled, shaking his head at Nico.

You forget that us fossils had to memorize people’s phone numbers before we had a contacts list. We didn’t always have a phone book on hand, either. I have plenty of them up here.

He tapped his temple.

Just in case.

Copia smiled.

Besides, if you do anything technological to me, I can get away with it. I can just pretend I’m old and clueless. Just look at how long Nihil got away with his bullshit… I know for a fact he wasn’t as senile as he made himself out to be. You could see it in his eyes. He was just a lazy ass who wanted people to do it all for him.

The verb tense in regards to Sister didn't go over Nico's head, but he didn't comment on it. Grief did things to people, strange, unexpected things - he wouldn't have been surprised to hear Copia still thought of his predecessor - his mother, as the rumor mill had turned put to be true - was still around, though the idea of a supernatural element wouldn't have crossed his mind.

"Oh, I'm sure you could handle yourself," he assured Copia, rolling up his sleeve as he approached the cabinet on its dolly. "That's not the point, is it? The point is to see you sweat a little."

He gripped both sides, brows furrowing as he started to push. He cursed under his breath as it inched forward, his hair falling out of place across his forehead before he stopped to glance back at Copia imploringly. "Speaking of sweat, care to help, Frater?" he asked softly. "You are such a strong, virile stallion, after all. Just to the freight elevator?"

carrion.chat is now in beta.

for those who missed the original posts: carrion is a privacy-first adult roleplay chat platform i built after another popular adult roleplay platform announced they wanted to store everyone's chat logs unencrypted in arizona, and then when they walked it back they said "btw we're going to take another however many months to finish the new site because we built the entire thing assuming everyone would just roll over and let us store their logs".

as someone who would mass delete their own DMs on discord every couple months out of pure paranoid compulsive fear of data breaches, this was Simply Not Acceptable.

so i made my own website.

as of today, every feature i set out to build is complete:

  • zero server-side message storage. your chats live in YOUR browser, not my database. there is nothing to subpoena because there is nothing stored.
  • iceland-based hosting for maximum legal protection
  • f-list profile import (now with gallery import!)
  • cherubplay-style persistent rp ads (remember those?)
  • mxrp/omegle-style matchmaker chat
  • flexible profiles with optional myspace-era HTML+CSS customization for people who want to go a little crazy
  • user self-service ads for $10/month that let you advertise whatever you want

what's next? honestly, not much. i built what i wanted to build. i'm not going to keep adding features until the site becomes an unusable mess. i will fix bugs, i will keep the lights on, and i will let you freaks do your thing in peace.

the internet does not need to suck. people can simply build a good website and then not add to it. we do not need to accept this in general, and we certainly don't need to accept it for our porn stuff, our furry stuff, and our gay stuff.

bad websites are a choice made in greed. we can do better and we deserve better.

come eat carrion with the barbarians.

(and discord for bug reports and other stuff like that)

one last note: in the current political environment making this sort of thing is what i'd like to call "super inadvisable" so if anyone asks, internet artist reachartwork and internet pervert programmer vulture are different people. okay? let's keep secrets with mama

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