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

Antique Leather Postcard

1910

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.

rb to tell prev they're being so brave right now and pat their head a little please

Go on Anon and ask my muse your burning questions!

"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.]

felt a bit political recently, so painting over the david i thought of this idea and so there it is!

"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.

"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:

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

you are not a diva. you are a disrespectful twink with subpar vibes.