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nagitosasshole Β· 2 years ago
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π‘©π’π’…π’š 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑩𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒅
Vampire Copia / Papa Emeritus IV
(Dracopia) x reader
π•Žπ•’π•£π•Ÿπ•šπ•Ÿπ•˜π•€:
β—‡ There is mention and description of gore right at the beginning, with only brief mentions of it afterwards β—‡
β—‡ Copia isn't depicted as a 'soft' vampire
(The violence is strictly tied to Copia's vampirism) β—‡
β—‡ Copia is Copia, and Copia is baby- but Copia also accidentally mauled an innocent person to death :^) β—‡
β—‡ Sorta slow burn with lots of angst β—‡
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before you get into it, do have mercy on me, please. i've not posted a story since i was 14-15 and it was not a serious attempt at all. this is my first ever actual attempt at a story, so feel free to send in any criticism or opinions, please!!
(and apologies if Copia or the Ghouls are out of character. this is just how i personally think they'd act!!)
love ya,, thanks!!
-
ali
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β˜†β˜†β˜†β˜†β˜†β˜†β˜†Chapterβ˜† 1β˜†β˜†β˜†β˜†β˜†β˜†β˜†
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(reader) has watched Copia flourish from their anxious, awkward, and generally uncouth Cardinal to a powerful Papa. Years of budding friendship allows them to share nearly everything with each other. Be it shared anxieties, insecurities, or just the feeling of loneliness and not belonging.
Not even his sudden rise to power really surprises them, not when they saw their friend becoming more confident and proud over the years. They helped him through with open arms over his 6 years of coming to terms with himself.
They really thought they helped him through, that they knew everything about him.
β—‡
The sight of a panting Copia huddled painfully in a corner of the library as he helplessly claws at his cheeks and jaws, a pair of fingers dipping into his red-stained mouth in an attempt to expel whatever he'd consumed makes that belief fly out of the window.
Forcing myself to look away from my dear friend crumpled up in red, I shakily let my gaze drift a few feet away from Copia. Eyes following the red trail that seems to have followed him to the corner, finding the source sprawled across the libraries antique wooden flooring.
A Sibling of sin, laying in a position that if not drowned in blood would look sound asleep. I internally thank the lorde that their petrified face is lulled down, hidden with messy hair.
My mind cannot get rid of the image of their body covered in gashes and bites, and what looks to be bruises, and…
I feel bile rise in my throat as my eyes wander over their already paling skin, unable to rip my eyes away from the places where their skin has been torn, some places looking like it'd been done by teeth.
My body doesn't allow me to move, only forcing out a broken, chocked whimper as I forcibly move my eyes away from my fellow Sibling. The sound alerts Copia to my presence, making his head snap up as his hand shakily and limply slips from his drooling mouth, leaving a line of transparent red between his puffy lips and gloved fingers. His looks as if his entire world is crumbling around him with just the glossy, overflowing look in his eyes.
I can only sob out a crackly and nearly silent call of his name before he's darting out of the room faster than I've ever seen him. I could only stumble out of the library, expression void and sunken as I slowly walk back to my room, sticking to the walls with a light hand to keep myself upright. My brain finally -for once- spares me some mercy, allowing my thoughts to ease into nothingness. Allowing me to make it to my room with an empty brain as I unceremoniously dump my weighted body to my bed. I don't sleep well that night.
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After that day, I stuck to myself. Everything I enjoyed, I abandon.
Everything I once did to socialize, I abandon.
Even small pleasures and things I enjoy I abandon in favor of hudling under my covers until I'm forced to crawl out of them.
My drop in work quality doesn't go unnoticed by Sister or my peers. I have talk after talk with Sister, endlessly forced to voice why I'm hiding away and shying away from my extra work- only to get nothing out of me.
Even my fellow Siblings notice when I quietly and half heartedly tell them I cannot do their work, or even help them anymore. Never offering a reason as to why.
They'll never know that I see that Sibling from the library when I look at them.
Their very clothing, the habit that I myself wear makes me sick, sending nauseating memories of that night in the library. I've had to cover my mirror and turn around with clenched eyelids as I get dressed.
I can't even bare to look at myself.
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The first week I spend spinning memories of the ghouls and Copia in my brain, frantically attempting to convince myself it was a dream, knowing my Copia would never…
No, not a dream.
It's apparent in the way he's avoided me.
My thoughts only give way to ugly sobs as I suffocate them my pillow.
β—‡
The second week I spend repeatedly rocking myself on my bed, back bent over my knees with my arms locked around them, blanket covering my compacted body and i endlessly attempt to self sooth. The fear of what I saw grows along with the disgustingly potent need to see Copia.
I internally curse myself, screaming at and berating myself for wanting to see him. Surely he's not the man you knew. My brain attempts to conjure the word monster in my desprate attempt to right myself, only for it to falter before I can even think it.
I could never think of him as a monster.
My brain is definitely faulty. Some wires or circuits are definitely frayed or fucked up, surely.
But I could never see him as a monster.
β—‡
On the third week, I give into desprate mindsets.
Letting myself stare at messy handwriting, intentionally vague, bland…not a word of what happened.
i hope your work is treating you well. i miss your company. you are well??, I wrote plainly, the shake in my writing betraying the anxiety I felt when writing it. In the dead of the night, I sneak out of my room to place the note outside his door. I didn't dare even write my name on the letter for fear he'd discard it.
β—‡
On the fourth week, I continue writing notes. Some more stiff and short than others, while some could be long and drawn out as if I were spewing out what was in my mind if he were truly there. There's always an air of emptiness and sadness to my writing.
My notes increased along with my appearances outside of my room. Only long enough to get to and from, but it was progress. There was always an air of panic around me when I dropped of a note for Copia to find. Always to avoid the library in my attempts to catch a glace at or the attention of him.
My efforts only bore fruit a couple of times, and yet they meant nothing. Only the slight widening of Copia's eyes showed he saw me at all before he'd turn his head, acting as Papa once more.
At the same time, acting as if I didn't exist.
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It started with the fleeting sights of the ghouls around me, always watching through the day. That's definitely not a rare or even unappreciated occurrence, but they hardly ever come to talk to me anymore. Usually, my day would be filled with chores, then my optional work later on in the day- be it doing simple errands for the overworked Papa's, or perhaps a Sibling of sin who wants to blow off work, but most of all gardening work with Papa Primo-
All of my off time you'd see me kneeling on stiff, hurting knees as I giggle along with whatever Primo is drawling on about, counting the time on the old-fashioned clock Primo keeps around as I wait for Copia to be done with work. Conversations help me forget time as Primo's aged hands guide and teach me how to properly care for his beloved plants.
A handful of times the two of us are accompanied by a helpful Mountain or Aether, the two helping lift heavy things that I can't manage, even less so the elder Papa. It's always warm, friendly ghouls always wandering through the garden to chat and cut up with me and Primo.
On rare occasions, we even find some of Secundo's ghouls wandering through. They hardly talk, but they prove to be good company still with how attentive they are to the garden's needs, proving to be quite good listeners, too. It's a real treat, but most of our visitors are Primo's own ghoul's, and (now) Copia's ghouls. Primo's ghouls (and the few retired ghouls. cough cough cowbell cough) will always stay near the gardens, ever loyal to their Papa. While Copia's ghouls are just plain and simple the most personable and sociable of the lot.
Soon I found my friendships with the kindly Papa and the ghouls flourishing like the flowers we care for so often.
It's no surprise it bled through "work" and into everyday life. Perhaps I was already friendly with them, knew them because of Copia, but I'd like to think the time we spent working together as a group made us close. It would explain how for the last few years, they made a habit of watching over me and approaching me to talk whenever they saw me.
I always appreciated how they looked over me rather than me being creeped out by it. In a way I understand their odd habits and affections. It made me feel safe knowing that they cared for me enough to have an eye out for me, even the notoriously hotblooded (asshole) Dewdrop.
But nowadays they only watch, and notably only Copia's ghouls. Maybe that's why their lack of seeking me out combined with their increased watching makes my neck prick with a chilled sensation. It just doesn't feel right. Maybe they're worried by my abrupt disappearance from our daily gardening routine, or maybe they can sense my dismal mood. Whatever it is, they don't say anything.
It only makes me want to hide away in my room more. Away from responsibilities and questions, and sure as hell away from who I consider my dear friends unreadable gazes. It makes my stomach twist and churn until I make it my mindless mission to make my way from room to room, never staying in one room longer than necessary during chores. The relief I feel from "evading" a ghoul is always short lived when after only a few minutes, I notice a different ghoul in the room I'm in.
I don't dare call out to them or say anything. Not unless they say something first. The fear pricking inside of me restrains my need to know what's going on, effectively silencing me and forcing my body to continue on with the world's worst game of where's the ghoul. I have an idea of why they're like this, anyway.
What I saw…
Surely whatever friendship I think I had with them was trumped by their loyalty to their master. They probably see me as a liability now. Waiting patiently with open ears for a slip up, waiting for me to break and spout out what I saw. Shouting to my fellow Siblings of sin that our beloved Papa IV is a monster.
That's why on the fourth week, when he finally acknowledges me in full, my heart nearly falls to my toes. With a single note with my name writen in neat writing poised on my bedside table, my heart thunders in my chest.
He had one of his ghouls come into my room and place it, or maybe he did it himself…the thought makes me lean agaisnt my headrest for support as I snatch the letter up with a shaky hand.
If you really wish to do this, come to my room.
9 : 0 0
I will be there. I will be waiting.
- yours,
Copia
My nerves make me feel as if I'm going to throw up as I scan my aching eyes over his writing. Even the fact he wrote 'Copia' instead of 'C' makes me feel ill. With a pained groan, I rub my sweaty forehead. "fuck this…", I think out loud, voice broken and scratchy from lack of use. "I'm gonna take a shower…lorde knows I need one."
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additional notes:
alrighty then, thanks for reading all the way through!! hope u enjoyed it!!
i'll have an ao3 account soon enough. hopefully, the formatting will be just how i want it, but until then, i hope how it is at the moment is okay!!
-
ali
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#copia x reader#cardinal copia x reader#papa iv x reader#dracopia x reader#vampire copia#vampire papa iv#mmmm delicious drama and trauma#ghost x reader#ghost the band x reader#ghost bc x reader#covering all bases with the name smh#papa emeritus iv x reader#Dracopia#first fanfic#dont crucify me pls#the nameless ghouls#papa emeritus x reader#cardinal copia#papa iv
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snotface-ing Β· 2 months ago
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πŸ¦‡πŸ©ΈπŸ‡ to be devoured is to be truly loved. indulgence is god's greatest gift
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made this for halloween! shout out dracopia... he's truly a beautiful old man that i want to eat me and stuff or whatever
closeup under the cut
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#art#my art#artists on tumblr#digital art#ghost#the band ghost#ghost the band#ghost band#ghost bc#dracopia#ghost copia#cardi c#copia#papa iv#copia emeritus#papa emeritus iv#oc#original character#sibling of sin oc#vampires#gothic horror#horror#vampire art#tw blood
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madpatti Β· 3 months ago
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Finally finished this dracopia drawing I started a few months ago :)
I changed the overall lightning and colours and I'm pretty happy with it now. It's based on a scene from the movie dark shadows.
#fan art#drawing#dracopia#the band ghost#cardinal copia#papa emeritus IV#vampire#madpatti#barnabas collins#dark shadows
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vnachtfalterv Β· 4 months ago
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Dracopiaβ™₯οΈπŸ’‹
It's finally finished! It was so hard to do the shading and lighting, but I really like it now! I hope you like it tooβ™₯️
I've always been a bit too obsessed with vampires, so I love the Dracopia concept!
I took inspiration from Andreas Terlaak's photo of Copia for the pose! The photo is great and immediately gave me this idea!
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#ghost#the band ghost#Dracopia#copia#cardinal copia#papa emeritus 4#papa emeritus iv#carosart#blood#vampire
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kabukiaku Β· 1 year ago
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I can do perspective!! totally! anyways, group photo loosely based off my ghost plushies' costumes + secondo cosplay I did.
Have a safe and spooktacular Halloween everyone! πŸ–€πŸŽƒπŸ‘»πŸ’€
#my art#happy halloween#the band ghost#ghost band#papa emeritus i#papa emeritus ii#papa emeritus iii#papa emeritus iv#copia#terzo#secondo#primo#omega ghoul#terzomega#vampires#jason voorhees#halloween#spooky season#spooky#digital art
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bribinart Β· 1 year ago
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HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!!!!!!!!!
#some dracopia for you on this fine halloween night#my art#the band ghost#ghost bc#ghost#ghost fanart#dracopia#cardinal copia#papa emeritus iv#papa copia#blood cw#blood tw#vampire
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ravenart357 Β· 2 months ago
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Title: The Cardinal
I finally finished my oil painting of the Cardinal! Happy belated Halloween!!
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#art#digital artist#ghost bc#cardinal copia#ghost fanart#artist#oil painting#female artists#artist on tumblr#painting#papa emeritus the fourth#rats of tumblr#vampire copia#vampires#papa emeritus iv
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blanchebees Β· 1 year ago
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Vampire Copia be upon ye sister
Tip jar
#papa emeritus iv#papa iv#cardinal copia#papa emeritus 4#papa 4#cardi c#dracopia#sister of sin#the band ghost#ghost bc#ghost fanart#ghost band#ghost bc fanart#ghost the band#sisters of sin#nun#vampire#artists on tumblr#illustration#traditional art#doodle#sketch#fanart#my art
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raven-ovs Β· 5 months ago
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Peel your heart like a
pomegranate.
Offer it to him, palms outwards.
Say "eat".
Watch him come away
stained red by you.
You're in his teeth.
He'll kiss you with that mouth.
~ "Fruit", Azra T.
#the band ghost#ghost#ghost bc#band ghost#papa emeritus iv#papa emeritus 4#papa emeritus fanart#ghost fanart#copia#dracopia#vampire#my art
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beepophobia Β· 1 year ago
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This is another repaint and I'm loving it now
#the band ghost#ghost bc#tobias forge#artists on tumblr#digital art#digital illustration#fanart#art#digital painting#illustration#copia#cardinal copia#vampire copia#papa copia#copia my beloved#ghost copia#papa iv#ghost band#papa emeritus iv#dracopia#vampire#illustrator#fan art#artwork#artist#popia#portrait#portrait painting#painting#digital artist
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ghostchems Β· 10 days ago
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blood and cookies
written with copia in mind but can be any papa. if you read, let me know which papa you imagined! this idea came to me in the middle of the night. 1.2k words. nothing crazy here except for some bloodsucking :) happy holidays!
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Flames crackle in the fireplace, casting shadows on the simple garland draped across the mantel. A single, plain red stocking hangs from one corner - the extent of your Christmas decorations. You zone out in the direction of the display from the kitchen as you remove your oven mitts, placing them on the counter. A chill rolls down your spine despite the warmth of the cookies cooling in front of you, sugar cookies shaped like trees with green and red sprinkles. They're typical Christmas cookies, the only kind you trust yourself to bake.
Recently, you've had a visitor every couple of nights. They aren’t the kind to stick around, showing up because they *needed* something from you. You wonder if your dabbling in the darker arts attracted themβ€” ever since moving here you’ve found yourself attracted to the strange herbs and mushrooms that grow wild in these woods. You've learned to identify them, to harvest them properly, and to learn what they are used for - spells that are meant to give protection and tranquility.
The knowledge feels ancient, like it's been waiting here in the soil for someone like you to discover it. Sometimes you wonder if it was a trap all along but you are enjoying your new hobby. Long winter nights are hard living deep in the forest with your closest neighbor miles away, but you make do with your DIY witchcraft. Sometimes you enjoy the solitude while other times you wished you had someone to share it with. That is, until some of your evenings have been interrupted by a mysterious visitor.
You hear fluttering from the living room and quickly move to scoop some cookies onto a plate. Smoothing out your apron with one hand, you take the plate in the other and head toward the fire.
A figure stands near the fireplace, his one otherworldly white eye glowing in the darkness. Dark wings stretch behind him, their leathery surface creaking as they fold against his back. He is like a living shadow, his form seeming to blur at the edges where the firelight touches him. He's never spoken. You don't even know his name but his visits have become more frequent. At first it was once a month, then every other week, and now he visits at least once a week.
β€œGood evening,” you say softly, placing the plate of freshly baked cookies on the small table beside your armchair. The scent of vanilla and cinnamon wafts through the air, mingling with the woodsmoke. His white eye follows your movement, and you notice the slightest tilt of his head β€” perhaps in curiosity, or appreciation. β€œHelp yourself. I will, uh, get you some warm milk.”
You turn back toward the kitchen, your feet padding quietly across the wooden floor. As you warm the milk on the stovetop, you can't help but wonder if he'll still be there when you return β€” he sometimes disappears as silently as he arrives. The gentle crackling of the fire and the soft clink of the plate behind you suggest he's staying, at least for now. It doesn’t take long for the milk to warm, and you pour it carefully into your favorite ceramic mug β€” the one with pale green mushrooms painted all over it, their caps dotting the surface in cheerful reds and purples.
When you return, he's closer to the fireplace and two cookies are missing from the plate with a few crumbs on the table. There’s a sense of relief that he liked them enough to eat more than one. You place the mug of warm milk on the table carefully, having learned he isn’t too fond of sudden movements. That doesn’t stop him from moving with inhuman speed right up to you, causing you to gasp and stumble back a step. His wings unfurl slightly, casting strange shadows on the walls.
"You are hungry," you whisper to him, your eyes scanning his face. You can see more of him nowβ€”the white and black paint that clings to his skin. He gives a low rumble in response, coming from deep in his chest. It makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up. His eye narrows slightly, the otherworldly glow intensifying for just a moment. You know what comes next.
He crowds close to you, his wings curling around you like a dark embrace. His gloved hand gently tilts your head to the side, exposing your neck. You feel his impossibly cool breath against your skin, causing you to shiver. His other hand pushes the strap of your apron to the side and leans in, lips against your skin. The touch is gentle but cold, like winter frost against your warm flesh.
He kisses your neck. This is new. Usually, he just bites and drinks, a simple transaction of blood for company. But tonight there's something different in the way his lips linger against your skin, the way his hand cradles your head. The gesture is almost tender. You find yourself leaning into his touch, your hands reaching up to steady yourself against his chest. His fangs graze your neck, almost as if asking permission.
"Yes," you whisper, "you may."
His fangs pierce your skin with practiced precision, and you gasp at the sharp sting. All feeling melts away in moments. Your fingers curl into the fabric of his jacket as he drinks deeply, the sound of his satisfied grunts mixed with the crackle of the fire. Through half-lidded eyes, you notice his wing has curled more tightly around you, probably to keep you upright as you grow weak with each deep draw of blood.
Your vision starts to blur at the edges, darkness creeping in. He must sense this and withdraws his fangs, his tongue quickly lapping at the wound to stop the bleeding. His wings move away from you as you sway on your feet, and the last thing you feel is his arms guiding you gently into the armchair as consciousness slips away from you.
You awake with a soft groan, your neck tender where his fangs had pierced. Fingertips drift along the wound as your eyes fall to the fireplace. The fire has died down to glowing embers. Then, your eyes drift to the small table beside you, where only scattered crumbs remain on the plate that once held your Christmas cookies. The ceramic mug sits empty, a smudge of black - like paint or lipstick - marking where his lips had touched the rim.
Despite how weak you feel, there's a sense of contentment. He ate all of the treats you made for him. You smile softly, sinking deeper into the armchair. You wonder when he'll visit again. Maybe next time you'll try another treat, perhaps chocolate chips or snicker doodles. The thought makes you feel warm as you sink deeper into the chair, sleep claiming you. You dream of dark wings and winter nights, of sugar cookies and stolen kisses.
Outside, snow begins to fall covering the forest in a blanket of white. Somewhere in that darkness, a shadow moves between the trees, leaving no footprints.
#papa be a vampire#papa emeritus i x reader#papa emeritus ii x reader#papa emeritus iii x reader#papa emeritus iv x reader#cardinal copia x reader#dracopia x reader#papa emeritus i#papa emeritus ii#papa emeritus iii#papa emeritus iv#cardinal copia#primo#secondo#terzo#copia#terzo x reader#copia x reader#secondo x reader#primo x reader
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nagitosasshole Β· 2 years ago
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π‘©π’π’…π’š 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑩𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒅
Vampire Copia / Papa Emeritus IV
(Dracopia) Β  Β  Β  Β  Β  Β  Β  x readerΒ 
π•Žπ•’π•£π•Ÿπ•šπ•Ÿπ•˜π•€:
β—‡ Mentions of the Sibling from the firstΒ chapter (Meaning mentions of gore. If you haven't read the first chapter, I will try to link it) β—‡
β—‡ Descriptions of sadness, fear, isolation, etc (If you're not in the right headspace for that, please look out for yourself!) β—‡
β—‡ Copia isn't depicted as a 'soft' vampire β—‡Β 
β—‡ This is not a 'dark' Copia fic, he's still babey, i just like inflicting trauma upon the characters i write :^) β—‡Β 
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this chapter includes the ghost fandoms fave tool- google translate!!
yea so sorry bout the obligatory poorly translated italian but im not italian so-
translations will be added at the end
(and further apologizes if copia is out of character. this is just how i think they'd talk / react to things)
thanks!!Β 
-
ali
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I stare blankly into my mirror; finally uncovered after nearly a month. The blanket I used to cover it lays damp and discarded on the ground beside my feet, the steam from my shower still clinging to the fuzzy material. With a sigh, I kick the bundle of fabric away, not wanting to even see it.Β 
Maybe I just need something to vent my emotions, but even my tiny fit leaves me with nothing. Looking back into the mirror I only get the same sunken-eyed, tired face as before.
The droopy, blank expression I've been sporting for the last few weeks is in stark contrast to what it's like internally.Β 
It's almost funny, really. Inside, my thoughts run rampant, never ceasing from day to day. Endlessly plagued by what I saw and the loss of the only friends I had. Just too much. Always too much.
But outside, you'd be lucky to pinpoint any emotion other than pure exhaustion. I wonder if that will be the case when I see Copia…
Maybe I'll finally show just how much I've missed him, or maybe show my mortification, maybe- maybe I'll even give him one of those terrible wide grins I do when I'm anxious enough.Β 
Or maybe the sight of him will leave me speechless, making the month's worth of pain and fear come pouring out as I helplessly cling to him-
In turn, clinging to what scraps are left of my normalcy.
I choke a dry sigh from my unused throat as I half heartedly untangle my hair with my fingers, hissing every now and then when my fingers get caught in my messy hair. Afterwards, I brush my teeth and wash my face once more. Having washed it in the shower doesn't feel like enough. I have time to spare before 9:00…another wash couldn't hurt. Maybe then I'll look less pale and more lively. As if I haven't been locked up in my room for a month.Β 
Once I'm finished, I send my reflection one last empty look before leaving the bathroom, making my way to my closet in search of clothing. Messily routing through my closet,Β  I find a plain black dress. I send my habit a fleeting glance before quickly looking back to the soft black fabric in my hands. I'm definitely not wearing my habit.Β 
I don't think I can bear to.
Luckily, the other Siblings will be retired to their rooms by then… 
Hopefully, I'll be unspotted on my way to Copia's room, especially out of uniform.Β 
With a sigh, I sling the dress over my shoulder and grab my socks and shoes, lazily taking them to the bathroom with me. I set my socks and shoes on the counters neatly, dress folded beside them. Once there's no more needless straightening I can do, iΒ send my clothing one last look before slipping into the empty bathtub.Β 
my skin slides against the slick surface of the tub still dotted with water from my shower. I plug the tub and fill it with water, trying to pad out my time and keep myself as occupied as possible until 9- deciding that if I were to wear a dress, I'd need to shave my legs even though neither of us will even notice. I just want to feel in control, like I actually look like a person when I see him.Β 
I crane my neck against the back of my tiny bathtub, head rolling to the side to glance at my dress as my wrist lazily drags the razor against my calves.Β 
'he likes that one on me…' I drawl out dryly in my head, unable to help the memory of Copia not so subtly stumbling over himself to awkwardly compliment my attire. Muttering under his breath, "Assomigli a Lilith stessa…"
Quick to catch himself, he stumbled out a response that if talking to anyone else but me would make them cringe,Β 
"E-eh, do not worry about that. I meant to say…you look nice, lovely- Lovely in your dress."
Finishing off his rushed-out compliment with his signature awkward 'eheheh'.Β 
The memory makes my cheeks flush like it did back then, feeling as if I were a schoolgirl as I force my gaze away from the folded dress. In recent time, when I think of him the blush still follows as it always has- only now followed with an undercurrent of shame. I should be thinking of my fellow Sibling who lost their life. I should be praying for them more, praying that their soul may find peace through their cruel and painful death.Β 
I'm truly terrible, I know it.
I shouldn't be thinking of better times, face flushing as I helplessly picture the Copia I knew. My face flushes hot with shame as tears prick my eyes, arms firmly locked around my aching knees as I attempt to will my thoughts away.
I can feel the regret and sorrow for my departed Sibling bubbling in my chest, making my heart pound hard and fast against my knees until I have to rest my dizzied head against my knees.Β 
Funny.
I didn't think I had anymore tears in me.Β 
β—‡
Getting ready surprisingly was a breeze. No distractions as I got my clothing in order, deciding that I shouldn't put too much into my appearance. The sole reason being that I just can't. There's a heavy weight in my soul that no cleaning up with decent clothing can hide. Besides, Copia would see right through it. He always has.Β 
So,
Pointless.
With a weak huff, I stuff my phone under my arm, not really seeing the point in bringing a bag with me to carry the one thing. I pick at and click my nails together as I struggle to steel my nerves, eyes stuck on the door in front of me.Β 
My nails need to be clipped…
Haven't done anything to them in a month or so. Too long and uneven for my tastes.Β 
Some are long, longer than even I would like while others are chewed to points, some chewed down to nothing.
Bad. Very bad.
Maybe I should go fix them. I mean, it would only take a min-
No.
No.
Stop it.
Just get it over with.
He's Copia. Your friend.
You can trust him.
I set my jaw in place and grab my doorknob, opening it in a way that would look a whole lot more confident if not for the trembling in my hand.
'I hate this', I humorlessly laugh in my head, body rigid as I glance around the halls.Β  No sign of any of the ghouls…
Good. Very good.Β 
I never thought that after everything I've gone through that the ghouls- my friends would make me feel so naked, so exposed. I feel helpless.Β 
The walk to Copia's quarters is a long one if you're a sibling, but I know the route like the back of my hand. Only serving to make that tight, ever expanding balloon of dread in my stomach feel like it will pop any moment. I know I'm getting closer, I know it.Β 
'My Lorde, I'm sorry for bothering you, but please look after me tonight. I am lost…please allow me to understand all of this…' my pathetic prayer trails off and dies upon it's arrival, mind overtaken by the sight of Copia's door. (yes, he has a door in this. sorry I don't want this super serious conversation to be heard by Jesus down the hall/j)Β 
Fuck.
I'm really fucked, aren't I?
Biting down on the inside of my lip hard, I taste pennies as I turn the knob, letting my hand rest in a twisted position for a moment before I finally push on the knob, opening the door with a slow and deafening creak.Β 
I'm sure I look as meek as I feel as the soft glow of candlelight lightly illuminates my figure, the faint draw of my brows together the only traces of emotion on my face despite my eyes telling everything my face cannot. My eyes scan over his dim room before skidding to a halt.Β 
There he is.
After all this time.
He stands with a stiff pose, his underhand clenched around the rounded tip of his cane, his upper hand draped over the other lightly in a loose hold. Glancing over the cane, I recognize it from a portrait Sister had done when he was Cardinal and freshly introduced as a leader. I haven't seen that in so long…it feels so familiar yet alien at the same time.Β 
His pose exudes faux power, but the subtle shifting of his legs and the way his Adam's apple bobs up and down as he tries to will down his anxiety makes it apparent that he's still the same Copia he was back when he was the Cardinal.Β 
He's only gotten better at making a show- being a Papa. But he's still the same. It's apparently in all the tiny clues on his body. Even the way his eyes shake ever so subtly as he forces himself to hold eye contact.Β 
But it still infuriates a small part of me.Β 
It makes me want to walk over and shake him, make him act like a normal fucking person again. His poorly strewn-together Papa personality makes my heart sink and blood boil.
It makes me question why the fuck he even wrote that letter if he's not even going to pretend like he's himself. Acting like I'm just a Sibling, as if I was an underling and I didn't know Copia, I knew Papa. It makes me sick.
More so than anything, the way silence blankets us, gripping us both in silent mortification as we stare into each other's eyes. The same thought running through both of our minds.Β 
They were so young. Came to this ministry to escape a volatile life, to leave their horrible family in search of a truly understanding one. They found their true family here. Friends, even. They were happy, and always kind to everyone. They vowed their loyalty to the very man who promised a life ripe with pleasures, wealth, and love if only they gave themselves over to their dark Lorde and their Papa-Β 
The man who consumed their mared flesh out of wild hunger.Β 
The memory of my fallen Sibling makes my eyes sting, giving me an excuse to look away from his own.
He's asked me to come here, and he wants to seem more put together than he really is. Almost like he thinks I won't want Copia after all these years of us growing closer, only Papa Emeritus IV, the newest, freshest Papa.Β 
Maybe it's that he's doing this for himself, perhaps to be "strong". It's sad how far he still sinks into his insecurities, even after all these years of me building him up. It's like a moment alone can still make him crumble under the weight of expectations and pretend to be anyone other than himself, at least mostly.Β 
Sometimes I wonder if he knows Copia.
This is the first time he's asked for my presence since I found out about his little predicament- what he did, accidentally or not. It feels strange how we spent nearly every moment either of us wasn't swamped with work in each other's presence for the better part of 6 years, only to be completely void of interaction for a month. It feels empty without him, I regrettably decided almost immediately.
I admittedly regret that after only a week of fleeting looks and poorly placed letters, I gave up. My chest hurt nearly everyday, pushed forward only by sparse, short letters he'd write back- hardly half of them did he respond.Β 
When I'd see him return a letter, it filled me with as much excitement as it did pure dread.Β 
He didn't even sound like himself in his notes. Hardly a hint of fondness or affection my usually starved brain can pick at.Β 
'Perhaps he's as much of a coward as I am,' I'd think to myself, thoughts halting for a moment before I'd let myself give into my (then) weeks-long soured mood, dryly continuing with, 'Too scared to be rejected in person, or maybe he just doesn't want to see me. I don't blame him.'
My sourness doesn't last long.
It never does.Β 
It only helps me disguise how truly lost and saddened I feel by my closest companion's departure - by such a catastrophic reveal, no less.Β 
It's laughable how I should fear him, only for the lingering dread and terror twisting in my empty tummy to be from the thought of our connection being severed.
The thought of being without him.Β 
Β Β 
I'm a terrible person.
"Sister."
I shouldn't be sad for myself.
"Sister."
I can feel him staring at me, I should say something.
"Sister."
At least look at him. Do something-
"Sister!"
I choke out a muted gasp as my eyes dart up to his, body ridged from surprise as my eyes become blurry.Β His eyes soften immediately at the sight, shoulders slumping from their forced position as he calls out again, softer.
"Sister, please look at me."
I force myself to keep my gaze up as I will down the tears that threaten to spill. It's just too much. The pain, the anxiety, the past weeks, the memories, his eyes, his voice, his mere presence-Β 
I block out my thoughts completely, doing my best to lock away my emotions and thoughts as I stare up at him. With a voice that sounds foreign to even myself, I speak, "Sorry, Papa."Β 
That was it. I couldn't think of anything else to say, and really, what could I say? An emotionless apology that says everything and nothing. What I was truly apologizing for, I don't know, but I silently praise the dark Lorde for the fact my apology counts as a response.Β 
Copia's brows raise and furrow into a look of sympathy, the action making the already deep wrinkles in his forehead all the more apparent. I curse the part of me that wants to press my thumb between his brows to softly smooth against his worried flesh, but I scream at the smaller part of me that wants to smack that sympathetic look off his face.Β 
Neither reaction is appropriate or right.Β 
I fucking hate my brain.Β 
"Sister, i-" Copia halts, brows digging downward, seemingly in distaste before smoothing back into a hesitant expression as he continues, "I want to apologize, (reader). I have kept much from you…" He dryly licks at his painted lips. A nervous habit of his. "I never- I want to tell you that I never wanted you to find out like this. Eh, at all, actually. I- I did not mean it like that-" He cuts himself off with a choked 'eheheh' as he stiffens, coming off far more nervous than he intended.Β 
He stops himself from rambling again,Β  frozen in place as he looks to the side, trying his hardest to find the best sentence he can before ultimately scrapping every rough draft his brain conjures. With an internal sigh, he abandons his cane against the side of a nearby shelf and takes a tentative step to me.
His eyes hold mine, but it's not like before- No, his eyes are soft and honest.Β 
That is not the look of a Papa.
That's the look of Copia.Β 
I audibly choke back the noises the efforts to hold back my tears cause, the soft straining in my throat noticeable to both of us despite my blank expression. I let him speak.
I want to understand.
He hesitantly reaches forward and gently clasps his larger hand under my own, lifting it up between the two of us as he lightly wraps his other hand utop mine, effectively blanketing my trembling hand with the warmth his leather gloves provide. The way he touches me as if my body is as fragile as my emotional state makes me want to break down right then, to cry until he wraps his arms around me and lets me let it all out- But I don't say anything, not yet.
The only evidence that I'm listening is the few stray tears that fall without my consent.Β 
"Ti prego, perdonami…Mi dispiace tanto, amico mio…" His eyes shine as he stares into my eyes, the candlelight making them look impossibly glossy as he leans down. He makes a point to bow to my level instead of lifting my hand to his lips, an apology. I feel the traces of his newly grown mustache against my skin, making my paled skin feel hypersensitive to his touch.
I remember when he shaved it.
When he became Papa.
I remember being so distraught over his new face, the loss of his pouty lips, rounded face, but most of all… that wonderful, strong, pointy nose of his and that pencil mustache.
I remember playfully lamenting the loss of his mustache to him and any ghoul that would listen, flooring him since I never did have the courage to compliment it like I wanted to until it was sadly gone.Β 
He started growing it back a few weeks later. Shaving it periodically when he had to go on tour so he wouldn't have to fight to hide it beneath his opaque papal paints, only to grow it back when he came back home.Β 
Proudly showing it off when he had his informal paints on around me.
It was endearing, to say the least.
My breath hitches harshly in my throat but neither of us dare make mention of it. I can only stare as his lips linger against my chilled skin, only now gaining some warmth and life.Β 
I can't help the tears that slip past me as I silently watch him, his words replaying in my mind as my tears softly pelt against his soft brunette hair.Β 
It would be too much if not for the fact he's here, he's touching me, the real him. I can't bear to pull away from him in fear of him disappearing from my life again, leaving me lost and confused.Β 
"Non ti merito-" His lips lifts from my skin only long enough to speak, quickly moving forward to press another light kiss to my flesh.
"Mi dispiace-" another small peck, lingering only a bit longer than the previous.
"Sono come sono-" Another, now moving to the bend of my hand, teasing at my wrist as he gently turns my hand.
"Perdonami per favore…per favore…" He whispers out with a wavering tone as he presses a kiss to my now exposed wrist, lingering there with the softest of pressure as he takes in the feeling of my heartbeat.Β 
Silence blankets us once more as I stare down at him, lashes damp and heavy as my hand shakes in his loose hold. The sight of him as he finally looks up at me makes fresh tears spring in my eyes. His eyes are wet and glossy with unshed tears as his hand lightly twitches against mine, subconsciously seeking the comfort I usually offer him.Β Β 
I give his hand a pitiful squeeze. Hardly enough to even be called a squeeze, but it's all I can manage.Β 
My body feels like lead.Β As If I could fall, yet stay frozen forever. I feel like fucking shit.Β 
But even at the tiniest of comforts, his eyes widen almost comically.Β 
His cheeks move subtly at his attempt to voice something, but it dies before he can even try to entertain whatever is going through his head. Instead, he squeezes back, eyes telling me everything I need to know.Β 
There's a drawn out silence before I suddenly speak up. Voice meek and pitchy.
"I know…I know you d-" my voice stops, cracking pathetically in my tight throat. "You didn't…mean to. You-" My eyes dart up to look at him, only to have to look back at his chest instantly. His expression is too much.Β 
"You're not…a monster…"
Silence. Pure silence.Β 
"You didn't…" I shake my head in a useless attempt to rid myself of the memory of that Sibling. Eyes stinging as my throat squeezes around my words. "I-"
With that, a choked sob rips it's way up my throat, forcing itself to be acknowledged as I lean my head against Copia's chest. My other hand reaches up to blindly grip onto his papal robe as my other holds onto his as if he'd disappear. I incoherently sob out apologies to my departed Sibling and pathetic 'I miss you's' to Copia as he wraps his arms around me.Β 
He only quietly shushes me when my shaking or cries become too much, only to calm me and keep me away from a worse breakdown. His free hand softly smooths over my hair, the familiar feeling of leather calming me and making me think of better times.Β 
He leans down and rests his nose against the top of my head, pressing a tiny kiss there as he inhales my hair's freshly washed scent- surely seeking comfort of his own.Β 
After a while of him holding me, he reluctantly parts, speaking in a soft voice, "You are alright, Tesoro?"
I only give an unconvincing nod in response. He gives a hesitant nod in return, licking at his lips again as he gives my hand a squeeze with both his hands. "Do…you wish to know everything?"
I nod.
He takes a long, silent breath in before speaking again. His voice is plain and stable as he says, "Then I will tell you everything, Mia cara."
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Translation notes:
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____________________
Assomigli a Lilith stessaΒ 
-
You look like Lilith herself
_____________________
Ti prego, perdonami…Mi dispiace tanto, amico mio
-
Please forgive me...I am so sorry, my friend
______________________________
Non ti merito
-
I do not deserve you
_________________
Mi dispiace
-
I'm sorry
_____________
Sono come sono
-
I am as I am (yes, i meant to write it that way. meant in the way someone would say "i am sorry i am the way that i am")
_______________________________
Perdonami per favore…per favore…
-
Forgive me, please...please...
_______________________________
Tesoro
-
Treasure (treasure being the most solid meaning, while some say it loosely means or translates to sweetheart, darling, honey / hunny. General terms of endearment, but I meant it as sweetheart. Treasure also works. I am not Italian)
_______________________________
Mia cara
-
My dear (feminine)
________________
(italian readers PLEASE help)
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additional notes:
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ah the drama!! it is s p i c y!!
and by spicy i mean s a d, but fun either way :^DΒ 
hope y'all enjoy my amateur attempt at writing enough to stick around for the next part. i'd amaze me,, but i'd be eternally grateful.
okie dokie then,, thanks so reading all the way through!!Β 
thanks ghesties!!Β 
-
ali.
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#cardinal copia x reader#papa emeritus iv x reader#vampire copia#vampire papa iv#dracopia x reader#mmmm delicious drama and trauma#ghost x reader#ghost the band x reader#the nameless ghouls#ghost bc x reader#papa iv#cardinal copia#papa emeritus x reader#papa emeritus#yea i think thats all not shoot me
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xwinter-sketch Β· 3 months ago
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POV you’re at some sus occult party and stumble upon Cardi… seems like he had a little too much to drink (is that wine? Or… blood…?)
I haven’t been on this app in a long long time. I’m not sure if I’ll post here often, but here’s something I drew over a month ago that I never posted on my insta.
#my art#digital art#fanart#art#drawing#illustration#ghost band#the band ghost#the band ghost fanart#dracopia#cardinal copia#papa emeritus iv#papa emeritus 4#vampire aesthetic#vampire
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madpatti Β· 9 months ago
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Some vampire copia and terzo sketches :) sorry if I'm not that active btw. I got sick and just don't feel well enough to draw :')
#vampire#fan art#drawing#sketch#papa emeritus iii#papa emeritus IV#dracopia#Copia#terzo#the band ghost#madpatti
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vanmec Β· 2 years ago
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Vampire Copia <3
[My Socials] | [Prints]
#hey look he's not being traumatized for once lmao#copia#cardinal copia#ghost#ghost band#the band ghost#ghost the band#ghost fanart#papa emeritus fanart#papa emeritus iv#vampire#my art
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nocturnalhe Β· 5 months ago
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been thinking about vampires day and night
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#ghost bc#the band ghost#a nameless ghoul#papa emeritus iv#frater imperator#cardinal copia#dracopia#my art#vampire#oh girl i think about you and monsignor pruitt all the time..#TJEY ALWAYS TAKE THE BADDEST BITCHES!#AHHHH RELIGION AND VAMPIRES I CANR BREATHE
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