#cause ive already sent random messages throughout

[piratehimbo]

.

[dantesunbreaker]

Message Sent

Papa Emeritus IV X Transmale Reader

Copia must leave for a few days after you both finally confess your feelings for each other. But Copia is a bit of an idiot when it comes to these sorts of things and finds a way to mess things up the moment he returns.

Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort TW: mentions of depression. 3.5K words

GIF by ask-papa-iv

“It will only be for a few days, tesoro,” Copia tries to make light of the situation, arms circling tight around you. “Then I will once more be home...and I can perhaps take you to that new place down by the waterfront?”

You’ve been the assistant to Papa Emeritus IV since you joined the ministry, since back to his days as a Cardinal. All those years harboring a silent crush for the older man. Unaware of the returned feelings Copia also shared. But of course, the day you both finally admit to the feelings is the night before he leaves for a special one off show.

“I know, I know,” you sigh, sagging back into Copia’s embrace. “Should have thought about it, I knew you had this show coming up.” There is a lighter tone to your voice as you chuckle to yourself. Of course you knew he would be leaving, you made his schedule. Still, the timing felt right to express your feelings. “Neither one of us has been very good at timing this kind of stuff.”

Nodding in agreement, Copia nuzzles against your neck, wanting to commit your scent to memory before he leaves. Your night ends with a lingering yet shy, soft kiss on the lips before you both depart to your own separate chambers. Come morning, Copia and his ghouls are gone, leaving you to keep yourself busy with your shared workload in his absence. 

Throughout the day you share texts as you usually would, recounting the random mundane details of each other's day. But when it becomes late in the night, just before you know Copia is getting ready to get on stage, you send a text with a bit more passion. I miss you already, C... I can’t wait to be back in your arms. Maybe even your bed? You set your phone down beside the bed, trying to ignore the nagging feeling of wanting to check for a response every fifteen seconds. But it never comes.

When the sun comes up the next morning you awake to zero notifications. Confused, you open up your texts and stare at your last text to Copia. Did you say something wrong? Were you going too fast? Maybe you made him too flustered. Maybe you caused too much of a distraction before the show. You bite back the anxiety and you push those thoughts to the back of your mind for the rest of the day. 

But the next couple of days pass with complete silence from Copia’s end. You tell yourself that he is a busy man, that he just forgot or didn’t have time to get back to you due to how much he has on his plate. And you convince yourself of this up until the morning after his late night return. 

As you approach Copia’s office, as you do every morning, with two steaming cups of coffee in hand and file folder tucked under your arm, you swear you hear sounds coming from just beyond the door. Did Copia have a meeting you were unaware of? Without losing grip on either coffee, you manage to pull the heavy double doors of the office open and step into the room...only to pause midstep the moment you are through the threshold. 

Breath catching in your throat, you nearly drop both coffees and the folder. Papa sits behind his desk, a Sister of Sin all but leaning into his lap as their lips are locked in what appears to be a heated kiss. It hits like a knife to the heart, leaving you to gasp at the sudden pain. One of them must hear your gasp, for a moment later they are pulling from each other. The sister turns with a sheepish look on her face, cheeks flushed red as she lets out a barely audible apology before skittering out of the room. 

“Ah, good morning fratello,” Copia greets a bit breathless, seeming ready to act as if you did not just walk in on him with another sibling. “Do you have some papers for me?”

Numb, all you can do is nod as you take the few steps necessary to place the coffees to the side of his desk, tossing the folder in front of him. When Copia doesn’t even look up, you can feel pieces of your heart shatter. Was it all just a dream? Some cruel joke? You stand there unmoving, unsure what to think of things.

“Do you plan to stand there all day, or are you going to get some work done today?” There is a teasing hint to Copia’s voice as he finally looks up at you. And it’s enough to make your stomach churn. 

Tears sting your eyes, but you fight them back. Of course, this is just some sick little game to him isn’t it? The shatter is complete, your heart crumbling to pieces across the hardwood floor of his office.

“Excuse me, I have to go,” your voice is tight as you turn back towards the door, needing to escape before the waterworks come.

“Wait!”

You don’t know why you pause, holding onto some feeble sense of hope. But you hear Copia rise from his chair and cross around to the opposite side of his desk just behind you. Unable to face him without the tears falling, you keep your back to him.

“Are you sick? You just got here,” the sudden concern to Copia’s voice makes you feel ill. Could he really not see?

“No, Papa, I am not sick,” you feel small, counting the lines on the floor as your vision begins to blur as the tears begin as a small dribble. “I just... I can’t stay right now.”

The quick laugh behind you causes you to flinch.

“Caro, are you jealous?”

Suddenly, the dam breaks. And forth flows not only pain and anguish, but the undeniable anger you feel at both Copia and yourself. How dare he?

"Yes, I am jealous!" Your voice breaks with each word, the tears you tried so hard to hold back running forth quick as a river current. "Is that what you wanted to hear? Does that make you happy? Yes Papa, you really had me going there.” The tone of your voice is near hysteric as your body begins to tremble. “For a moment, a soft fleeting moment, I actually believed that there was something special between us. That someone like me could actually matter to someone like you.” 

Barely able to see through the tears in your eyes, you take a blind step forward towards your escape.

“I can see now that I’ve been a fool.”

“Fratell- ” a hand closes around your wrist in a bruising grip. Just inches shy of the door.

“Don’t touch me!” The words are spit out like venom as you give a firm tug of your arm. It burns. The painful drag of skin on skin.

The hold on your wrist gently loosens, allowing you to pull your arm free without ever having to take a look back at the man who still held the pieces of your broken heart. Footsteps follow you as you sprint down the halls. Copia calls your name over and over, but you run until the sound is barely but a soft whisper in your ear.

When your back finally hits the inside of the door to your bedroom, the tears stop but the heartbreaking pain begins. It feels as though you are suddenly full of cement as you take the heavy steps necessary to reach your bed. Each small movement takes every ounce of energy in your body until you reach a distance at which you can simply let yourself fall forward. Sinking into the inviting warmth of the pile of blankets and plushies that is your bed for once does little to ease your woes away. 

Burying your face into the nearest pillow, you scream until your voice is hoarse and there is a deep burning ache in your throat. It is as though a deep hole now lies where your heart should be. A cold black pit that spreads out like a spider’s web throughout your chest. Have you truly been so blind this entire time? 

How could you go on living? How could you go on as if nothing ever happened? As if the head of the church hadn’t snuffed out what glimmer of joy was left in your heart. Tears once more sting your eyes at the thought of having to face your Siblings of Sin. The questions they will have. And... of course how will you be able to attend Black Mass without falling apart? Simple. You wouldn’t.

For a week you are unable to bring yourself to leave your room, wallowing in your bed and seeking the comfort of solitude. Not that you remain entirely alone. Some of the ghouls find themselves in your quarters at odd hours of the day, offering what solace they can. Cirrus and Cumulus come most evenings to ensure you have eaten at least once each day and to wrap you in the comfort of their cuddles. On a few occasions Mountain joins the pile, bringing offerings of his own special blend of tea in hopes to ease your sorrow. There is never any mention of Papa. Rumors spread fast around the Abbey. Your feelings for Papa are certainly not a well kept secret. Whispers of His Unholiness having been seen with a Sister of Sin however have circulated throughout the congregation. It would be more a surprise to the other siblings if you had not taken reprieve in your own chambers. 

But the ghouls do their best to distract you from the hurt. They also do their part in keeping prying eyes and questions away. Each ghoul, even Dewdrop, has some excuse for your whereabouts ready at the tip of their tongue if ever Papa approaches with questions of your absence. Anything to keep him away. Though you suspect you are far from his concerns of late. Probably too busy wrapped up in a certain new sister.

But as each day goes on, you find it easier and easier to ignore the darkness at the center of your heart. Sure, it is still there. You aren’t sure if it ever truly will fade away. With time though, the pain fades to a dull ache that doesn't always hammer to the front of your attention. You start with small simple tasks just around your room, testing your limits, before you decide to take that first step out of your room. When the world doesn’t immediately come crashing down, you take that as your sign to work back up to resuming some of your sibling duties. You are sure Sister Imperator has not been pleased at your absence, or more importantly your lack of contribution.

While you still refuse to go back to your duties as Copia’s assistant just yet, you do find other ways to remain helpful. Enough that Sister won’t come chasing you down for a lecture about doing your part for the ministry. You start by helping in the kitchen, knowing the staff there were always eager for a helping hand when there were so many mouths to feed. And well, you know it is a place a certain Papa did not frequent often. It was a miracle the man remembered to eat most days with how consumed he would become in his work. It’s why you are always punctual with delivering a warm meal to his office each day... Or at least, you were. You aren’t sure if things will ever return to that state of normal.

It’s nearly three weeks after the incident before things finally come to an unfortunate head, when you finally have to face reality. You’re walking down the hall, eyes adrift  unfocused as your mind floats away. But out of the corner of your eye you catch a flash of familiar black and white. By the time it registers in your brain, it’s too late. Still.. you consider making a break for it.

“Fratello, wait!” 

A heavy sigh passes through your lips, eyes closing tight as you focus on keeping yourself calm. You can do this. It’s time to face your problems head on.

“What do you want, Papa?” You spin on your heels so fast it makes your head spin, Copia’s official title emphasized with clear disdain.

“Please, caro, just hear me out,” Copia sounds so broken as he keeps a hand outstretched towards you. Sorrow clouding dual colored eyes. He is giving you the choice and space to refuse him, unlike your last encounter.

There is a slight tremble to your bottom lip, too afraid that your words were going to fail you. With eyes trained on the scuffs along Copia’s shoes, you silently place your hand into his. You aren’t sure you are actually ready to face whatever is to come, but you are tired of the unresolved turmoil looming over you. This is a necessary step. Sensing your apprehension, Copia lets out one of his signature soft cooing sounds that he knows you have always loved. He hopes that perhaps you still do. Another gloved hand joins the other, both of Copia’s hands now clasped around your one as he takes a tentative step forward in hopes that you will follow suit.

Without a sound, you allow Copia to slowly lead you down the corridor into his office. Once the door shuts behind you, he releases your hand and steps away to give you space. It gives you a sense of security. You aren’t a caged animal in this situation. You suppose that is his intention. 

Sad, tired eyes gaze up at you as Copia sags heavily into his chair. He looks as though he has aged considerably within the few short weeks since you had last seen him. The wrinkles along his forehead are more pronounced, the bags under his eyes plump and heavy, and it seems a frown has nearly been etched into the corners of his lips. For lack of better terms, he looked like shit. But you reign in the sympathy that wants to wash over you. You steel your eyes and wait for Copia to explain himself.

Copia seems to crumble beneath the intensity of your glare, dropping his eyes to his lap where he nervously wrings his hands.

“I am truly sorry for how I hurt you, caro,” Copia begins, wincing at the bark of a laugh you give at his words. But he remains undeterred. “There is no excuse for my actions. But please know that I deeply regret them.”

“Then why do it in the first place?” You take a daring step closer, this time it is almost as if you are the one cornering him. “If you didn’t want to hurt me, why did you lead me on? Why did you.. Why did you flaunt some sister in front of my eyes when my feelings were clear towards you?”

But all Copia can do is gape at you like a fish out of water, struggling to string together a coherent train of thought under your scrutiny. You are keenly aware of the tears forming in his eyes. Through soft sniffles, Copia tries in vain to keep them from falling. But soon enough thin rivers of black bleed into the white of his paints.

“Because your Papa is but a fool,” he is reaching into his pockets, fumbling to pull out his phone and set it on the desk towards you, screen face up at full brightness. He drops his head into his hands with a pitiful whine. “You see, I thought it was you who had been ignoring me during my absence.”

Wait... What?

In your haste you nearly stumble over your own feet as you step closer to the desk, leaning over the vintage oak to gaze at the small screen. The phone was open to the text stream between you and Copia. Your last message, exactly as you remember it, glares back up at you as if to mock you. But you notice something as you look closer. A picture of Copia in full robes and mitre behind a stage is attached, a text message accompanying it. I miss you too amore mio! I would love nothing more than to have you in my bed... so we may come together, eh? Tell me..will you be thinking of your Papa tonight while alone in your bed tonight? But... Copia hasn’t left the Abbey since his return weeks ago? It must be from...

“You didn’t press send,” you reach down, touching the screen and feel the soft vibration of your phone in your pocket in response. A semi soft gentleness has wormed its way back into your voice.

“Si..” 

Things begin to come together, your mind tying the crimson strings of your mental conspiracy board to connect the dots. You spent all that time waiting for a response... but Copia thought he was doing the same?

“So,” you take a step closer, taking note of the way eyes ever so slightly flick up to watch you between gloved fingers. "You thought I was giving you the cold shoulder the whole time you were gone. And you, what? Thought that seeing you with someone else was going to have me crawling to you?"

Copia lets out a pained noise, head sinking lower. 

"No, maybe, I'm not sure what I thought," his voice is thick, his shoulders visibly trembling. When he brings himself to look back up at you, his paint is a marbled mess of gray. "I thought if I pretended to be interested in a sister th...that you would realize what you were missing. That you would fight to win me over... But I'm a fool, and instead I hurt you and pushed you away."

"Yes," you step even closer, hand reaching out towards Copia as wet eyes watch your every move. "You are a fool," a whimper leaves Copia, eyes closing as your hand drops to run through his fluffy locks. "But... I would still like for you to be my fool."

Hands are reaching out for the one still at your side, clutching at it as if it were a lifeline. Eyes still closed, Copia pulls until the back of your hand rests against his moist cheek. You don’t mind the way paint already begins to rub off onto your skin.

“Per favore. Mi dispiace. Mi dispiace,” Copia slips from his chair, dropping to his knees as he drags his eyes up the length of your body until your gazes meet. “Per favore, I want to be your fool. Let me be your fool, caro. I’ll do anything. Per favore.”

Tears still stream down Copia’s cheeks, snot dribbling from his nose and making a sticky wet mess of his upper lip. He looks like a mess. Nothing will ever take back the hurt seeing Copia with someone else caused, the weeks of anguish and isolation it caused you to suffer. But it doesn’t mean you can’t stitch the wounds closed, letting them scar over and heal into something new. A single tear rolls down your cheek, landing on the tip of Copia’s nose.

Pulling your hand from Copia, shushing him in a soothing tone when he whimpers, you move to cup both his cheeks. Tilting his head up, you search his eyes for the answers you need. Sadness and regret oozes out just as heavy as the tears still dripping down his face. That is all you need to see to decide if you can try and work past this.

“What you did, it hurt me C. Hey, I need you to look at me,” you grab ahold of Copia’s chin when he tries to turn away in shame. “You can’t go back and fix that. But, you can learn from it and fight to keep from making the same mistakes. I am giving you a second chance, putting my heart back on the line. Please, don’t make me regret it.”

“I won’t! I won’t, prometto!” Copia surges forward, arms wrapping around you to hold you close. “Let me prove myself. I’m only for you, amore. Only for you.”

You lower yourself to your own knees, pulling Copia into your chest as he continues to give soft wheezing sniffles. Together you rest there until his breathing has calmed and a comfortable silence settles over the room.

“C..can I kiss you, caro?” Copia asks in a semi shaky voice after much time has passed.

With a chuckle, you pull a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe away the snot and slobber from his upper lip. Only then do you smile, giving a nod as you lean in. The press of your lips together is soft and delicate. It in itself is almost like an apology as Copia eases into pulling you to him. You melt into his touch. And you think that with time, you can repair this blossoming relationship.

[ecotone99]

[RF] After the collapse

Fall of 2068

Jeremy woke up, cold in his bed. The sun was not yet up. Ever since the collapse, he always had to be on constant guard. He went out and opened his blinds, peering out of his window. He checked if the fire beacons were lit. They weren’t. A sigh of relief escaped him.

The beacons were lit whenever an invading army had been sighted near the town. Since the Great War twelve years ago had destroyed modern civilization, all modern technology had been lost, and groups of towns were ruled by local warlords. There had been rumors of an invading army being nearby the town, but apparently, they were false.

He grabbed a candle and walked downstairs. Nobody else was up yet. He checked to see if the fire from last night was still lit. It wasn’t. He’d have to do with just fruit for this morning, he didn’t have the patience to light matches, or the time to prepare something else. He decided on a few apples and picked out a book at random from his shelf. It was the History of the Collapse by Jeremy Roberts. Unlike most books nowadays, written in scrawly handwriting, as if the author were anxious to finish the copy, or the older books in plain, emotionless print, this one was written in carefully crafted, italic handwriting. It was a rare artifact, bought at a bargain from a homeless man who had wanted to burn it for firewood. He flipped it open and began reading.

“I know not with what weapons World War III will be fought, but World War IV will be fought with sticks and stones” - Albert Einstein, 1948. The leaders of all the great powers of earth knew that another worldwide conflict would be the last, but that would not, could not stop them. The rampant capitalism of the west had driven the political leaders there to become beholden to mega corporations, unable to act autonomously any longer. In 2049, the democracy of the twentieth century was less than a façade, it was an act. Nobody made an effort anymore to hide the corruption from the common citizen, they would do, could do nothing. The eastern nations didn’t have it much better. While the Emperor of China, having dropped any façade of “President” in the 2020s, had effectively unlimited power in his country with his iron grip on technology, it was not enough for him to stop any of the upcoming changes. For he could only stay in power if his economy continued to grow, which meant continued conflict with the western powers. Tensions continued to rise throughout the 2030s, with the Taiwan Incident, the Internet War, and the Second Scramble for Africa all contributing to the inevitable conflict. But what sparked the war was yet another conflict in the middle east.

In 2043, Iran, with a new fascist government in power, had invaded the rich oil fields of Iraq. Although largely depleted, corporations in the States still made enormous profits off of oil sales, profits they could not afford to lose. They pressured the President into declaring war. Initially, Iran’s numerical superiority overwhelmed Iraq’s defenses, but-

Jeremy got bored. He flipped to a random page towards the end of the book.

After the battle of Delhi had drained both India’s and China’s last resources, the last stable great powers in Asia collapsed. Popular rebellions in China, along with warlords taking advantage of the relative weakness of the state in India, broke the governments of both nations. Russia, perhaps for the best, had already dropped out of the war and was in the midst of a brutal civil war, but as they had stopped the carnage earlier, they had managed to somewhat avoid total collapse. Europe was a tangle of feudal states, and a few scatted small nations with even a few local democracies left around. After fighting off Russia and the north Africans, the peninsula had broken from the continued strain of the war, although national governments still held token power. America had still never been invaded even during the war, but the complete collapse of unity combined with the decades of hate for the government caused by it’s total inebriation to corporations caused an almost immediate breakdown of federal power just a few years after the start of the war. With the south Americans having long been effective puppets of the States, and the Africans being a blob of mixed loyalties to Europeans and Chinese, neither of them were stable enough to last long either.

All major governments thus collapsed during the war. The diseases spread during the war as a result of biological warfare were also a contributing factor to the collapse, with a major portion of the world population being killed within the weeks following their release, and a steady decline thereafter. The complete destruction of the climate also lowered the total carrying capacity of the planet, and previously unknown feedback loops had caused a mass global cooling of the planet, devastating crops. Much modern technology was lost, and an EMP following shortly after the war wiped out any remaining hope of rebuilding to the prior technological level. If the governments of the major powers had prepared plans for the collapse that had unfolded, they were lost in the confusion.

Jeremy sat up. He bookmarked his page and closed the book. He wondered how with all the devices the world had had, with all the powers of the governments, they had managed to fall so much to their current state. Growing up in the shadow of the collapse, the technology of the previous world was just a glint in his foggy memories of early childhood, with it always being overshadowed by the struggles of the wars. He was 16.

He got up, he was done eating. He walked outside, he was heading to the town. There wasn’t any school anymore, for there wasn’t much to teach. He would be going to buy some new farming tools in exchange of some excess produce, which he had packed. While the older generations pushed for a select group to be taught all the lessons of the old world, most did not learn much at all of what had happened before. All of the incredibly impressive, almost magical devices seemed almost like fantasy to many, and they saw no use for what they considered frivolous when there was work to be done building the foundations for a new society. What use was knowing how a telegraph functioned when they simply didn’t now? Nowadays you’d just ask the local Messenger to carry a message for you, the location they were to deliver it, and the person who should receive it. More confidential information was discussed in person, and urgent news was sent across the fire beacons. He snapped out of his thoughts as he arrived at the edge of town, and to his alarm, saw the tops of the fire beacons alight. He started running.

submitted by /u/Adventurer32 [link] [comments] via Blogger https://ift.tt/33Pzij0