Still Struggling With Art But I Managed To Sketch Some Brothers

Still struggling with art but I managed to sketch some brothers

The Addams Family (1991)

𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 | 𝐂𝐨𝐩𝐢𝐚 𝐱 𝐠𝐧!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

!!! this fic contains spoilers for RHRN, do not read on if you wish to remain spoiler-free!!!

It is an involuntary trust exercise. To give up what he built for half a decade, the legacy he took over, being forced to let it rest in the hands of someone else. Or: Copia is taking up his new position. It’s not an easy feat.

content: 1.8k words, gn!reader, angst, grief, hurt/comfort, some fluff and kisses, post!rhrn so spoilers, established relationship

Masterlist – Ao3 link

1 – White dust sheets cover the furniture like ghosts of a life left behind. The path forward is hidden underneath layers of insecurity and grief but as he packs up years of work in pre-used cardboard boxes it almost feels as though he cannot see the path at all.

His new office is just down the hall. It is a fast job. Two trips and his desk has become another ghost. One more trip and he has emptied out all personal belongings from the dusty shelves. The rest stays, not useful to him anymore in his new function.

It is an involuntary trust exercise. To give up what he built for half a decade, the legacy he took over, being forced to let it rest in the hands of someone else. Unlike his brothers he had no way to prepare who follows his footsteps and perhaps that is where the ache in his belly comes from – the uncertainty.

He cannot quite bring himself to unpack the boxes in his new office yet. But it is not his office anyway, Copia thinks. No, it is his mother’s office and he feels like an intruder placing his things on her desk. Her smell clings to the old fabrics, clings to him, a strong perfume that Copia has not been able to get out of his nose ever since he covered her body with yet another white sheet.

Yet another ghost.

It has not been long, he tells himself, a weak comfort. As he stands here with an old card she wrote him – Welcome Home, C! – he can hear the clicking of his mother’s shoes on the tiled floors like a faint echo that haunts the hallways of the Ministry. Everyone is busy preparing for this transitional period, mourning their Mother Superior, but now it is Copia who has to guide them, navigate them through this darkness.

He realises that he himself has footsteps to follow and that he is just as unprepared. A new era, for all of them.

“Love?”

He turns and his world lights up for a brief moment. You occupy the doorframe in a black mourning habit, the one all Siblings chose to wear in honour of his mother. Of course he finds that it suits you better than anyone else. But perhaps that is because he has felt the sturdy fabric against his wet cheeks so many times now that it means comfort, home.

“Do you still need help with the boxes?” you ask.

All he can do is shake his head. You approach and he wants to close the card, hide it away, not even sure why. You have seen the fallout, you have held him through the worst of it. Perhaps he is ashamed, in a way, that he cannot move on as fast as his new role demands of him.

“Was this from her?” you ask, nestling up to his side.

“Mhm.”

His hand is trembling lightly as you lay yours to rest on top of his. The swipe of your thumb against his bare wrist sends goosebumps down his spine and when you wrap the other arm around his waist his eyes are watering.

“Perhaps you can frame it, together with some photos,” you suggest.

He nods, leaning into your embrace as a solid rock forms in his throat. You hold him and he lets the silent tears run down his cheeks, gathering at the dip of his chin. Your thumb continues to draw slow crescents over his pulse. He can’t speak. He does not have to.

✦ ✧ ✦

2 – He is glued to the mirror.

You try not to fuss, he is nervous as is. It is first official day, after all.

“I didn’t know you had a new uniform,” you say with a lint roller in hand, joining him in the bedroom. The jacket is brand new, all black but unusual in its ornamentation, satin lapels that run from his neck towards his armpits. A clerical collar underneath sparkles against his Adam’s apple.

“I eh… splurged,” he says, cheeks dusted a bashful red.

He says it like he is wasteful, does it whenever he treats himself to something, but you also know he is wearing the same black winklepickers he wore as a Cardinal ten years ago, never replaces any pieces of clothing until he finds holes in the fabric, that he only bought new jackets when he could use them on stage to look his best for the audience. The suit is no different, it is as much a boost to his confidence as it is a display of his new status. A performance.

“It is a rather nice suit,” you note, running the lint roller down his back.

“Mhm.” He pauses, looks down at himself and tugs at the sleeves. “It is… unfamiliar.”

“You wear it well, Copia.”

He smiles and his confidence resurfaces. You find that he looks handsome in a completely new way. You have seen so many facets of him that you can tell he is beginning to mold himself into this role, even if he might not see it himself yet. In the mirror, a stranger is looking back at him through black-rimmed eyes but in time he will see himself again, a grown version.

“It is not all,” he says. “I… found something. In the desk drawer.”

He points to a velvety black box on the dresser. Inside, you find a beautiful ornament, two ruby brooches holding a bejewelled black grucifix, another ruby at the bottom. It is one of the most beautiful, elaborate pieces you have ever seen.

“A gift, I think.”

He looks uncertain when you glance up. But you have no doubt that it was meant for him, meant for today. You carefully take it out of the box, delicate as it looks it feels sturdy and well-crafted. One brooch to each lapel and the grucifix dangles over his heart. Light from the window catches in the gemstones, a prism splitting the ray into sparkles that reflect in the mirror, a spectacle of multicoloured beams flickering across the walls.

Copia watches the dancing lights, mesmerised, until the sun hides behind a cloud and the room is gloomy yet again. When you focus back on him a tear pearls from his left eye, running down his cheek and leaving a black streak in its wake. The piece is more than jewels – it is a memory, a promise, a token of trust.

“It is beautiful,” you say. “As are you, Copia. So beautiful.”

His smile is tinged with sadness but there is hope, now, too. You smooth out his jacket, admiring him for a moment, unconcealed, and he must see it in your eyes because the smile shifts until one corner of his mouth pulls into a lighthearted smirk.

“Do I get a kiss?” he asks.

You grab the satin and pull him close. One day you are going to peel him out of this jacket and it won’t feel heavy anymore.

✦ ✧ ✦

3 – You gently wipe at his under-eye. The black smudge is persistent and you stop when the skin turns red. Copia’s eyes are closed even as he holds you. Wrapped around you he feels hot to the touch, almost feverish. He has gone non-verbal since he came home and you give him the space he needs, soft touches, rest and quiet.

The tension of the day still sits in his muscles, you can feel the knots when you run your hands over his back. The hot shower did not help, nor did the pasta he barely touched for dinner. He did well, everyone said this to you today. Whether he feels it you are not so certain.

You lean in and press a kiss to the round tip of his freckled nose. He blinks at you through tired, reddened eyes, lips curving into a lazy half-smile. His hand tightens at your waist, slides underneath your shirt to feel your skin. He’s your whole world molded into the shape of a man. Love, stored in the crinkles of his crow’s feet, every line on his face, in the brushstrokes of grey at his temples, an endless supply.

“I’m so proud of you,” you whisper, trailing the curve of his spine.

His eyes open and you feel guilty for disrupting his peace. But then he pulls you ever closer, squishing, the softness of your bodies mingling with a comforting warmth.

“I don’t…” He stops, brows pulled together. “I don’t know if I can do it.”

“I have no doubt that you can.” You study his features, move your hand to trace the lines of tension and smooth them out. He lets you, eyelids fluttering at the soft touch. “Every day from now on will be easier, Copia. My baby, I have such confidence in you. Unshakable.”

The words stir something in him. Some wetness gathers in his odd eyes but he blinks it away. You have to fight your own tears, good tears, for how far he has come. Then Copia nods, nods again but with more conviction. A deep exhale through his nose and he swallows the doubts away.

“You are right, always,” he says. “I was Papa Emeritus IV, eh? I did that.”

“You did.” A smile, proud and amused. “And now you are Frater Imperator.”

“Mhm, I am.”

“You are the head of this church, they are still your flock, adoring you, admiring you, trusting you. None of this has changed.” You cradle his face in both hands, a firm press of your thumbs to his cheekbones. “And you are still the man I love.”

“I am?”

“Forever.”

He closes the gap himself, a grateful kiss, seeking. You try to give him what he needs, firm and soft kisses, hands roaming, legs entangles. His tongue swipes over your bottom lip, deeper still until all air escapes you and a dizzy fog fills your head. He is all you know, all you want for the rest of this life you live together.

The kisses slow down, not any less deep, and he cradles your head, keeping you pressed together. There is some need building, a languid wave that fades out in ripples. You feel him stir against your leg but he is not quite here with you, not entirely, and it subsides after a moment.

He breaks away with a heavy sigh, keeps his eyes closed.

“Perhaps not tonight,” you say, stroking his hair.

He nods and rests his forehead against yours. His breath tickles your nose, the embrace tighter than before. It feels easier now, somehow, and you can picture it so clearly. The future, him, and even in your head the world is quiet as you hold him close.

Thank you for reading! Hope you enjoyed – kudos, comments, rbs etc are as always much appreciated ♡

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FYI - They've changed the date for the streaming event/bonus content

The Cardinal and the Seamstress

Hello, all! This is my first Ghost fanfic! I have been in a Dracopia brainrot due to a knitting project I'm formulating and then I saw an edit that got my brain cogs CHURNING. Hopefully you enjoy!

Pairing: Cardinal Copia x OC

Warnings: mentions of blood, biting

Words: ~1.7k

Chapter 1 - Introductions and Intrigue

Read on AO3

banner and dividers courtesy of: gothdaddyissues AND ghuleh-recs

Cardinal Copia is a man who considers himself someone who cannot be distracted easily. Centuries on this Earth have taught him the focus he needs to bring the Clergy to great success over the years, up to the leadership of Papa Emeritus the Third. Terzo. Lately, however, Copia’s mind keeps wandering while he looks over ancient texts for future Black Mass sermons. There’s... instability brewing amongst the higher-ranking members. Sister Imperator has kept her mouth shut during this whole ordeal. Terzo is no longer going to front the Ghost project but there hasn’t been any word on who will be the next Papa.

At least, this is what Copia tells himself that this is what his mind is occupied about. It can’t help that the new clergy seamstress assistants keep coming to him with fabric samples. Why should he care? Its just a new cassock. What good would his opinion be on fabric? Though, he will admit, heightened senses do make certain material an absolute nightmare to wear.

The past few days have been nagging at him. He’s felt restless. Anxious, even. Copia stands and walks over to his drinks cart. A quick sip of anything to calm his mind! He has an important meeting with Imperator and Papa Nihil today, whatever that may be about.

Tape measure… pencils and eraser… notebooks… Rullers…

 The sound of a door opening broke Sister Sarah’s concentration. A big project is coming upon the clergy sewing department and the upper members have been silent about it to anyone but Sister Amelia, the head of the sewing department.

“I was curious if you were going to be getting here via trike. Ha!” Sister Amelia shouts behind her, chuckling at her joke while walking into the studio space.

A voice responds back. “Oh! Ehe.. You uh.. know about that?”

Cardinal Copia?

Sister Amelia chuckles. “Word travels fast in these hallowed halls, Cardinal Copia.”

“Ah.”  Is all the Cardinal can respond with. His mouth forms an awkward straight line. He looks down to the floor and fidgets with his hands.

Sarah can’t help but be endeared to the old cardinal. Most members of the clergy can be uptight but not Copia. In his devoted service to the clergy, he always seems to be able to bring his own sense of whimsy. His cassocks are well pressed and his hair is slicked back, barely a strand out of place, but he likes to unwind by riding a tricycle around the halls. Who does that?!

“Hello Cardinal! It’s a pleasure to see you.” Sarah says. He looks startled.

“Yes, ciao Sister…” He takes her hand. “Mi dispiace, Sister my mind has been in twenty different directions today” The cardinal responds.

“It’s Sarah, Cardinal.”

“Sarah. Bene.” he bows his head at her.

A small blush spreads to the surface of her cheeks. She stares at her hand after the cardinal lets go. It feels tingly. How odd.

Sister Amelia gestures to Copia and the small platform in the middle of the room. “Please, Cardinal, step onto this platform so we can get your measurements. Oh, Sarah, could you please go and fetch my binder of men’s suit pattern blocks? Our dear Cardinale is going to need a new wardrobe!” She looks back to Copia.

Sarah’s ears perked up. Is Cardinal Copia going to head the Ghost project? Does Papa Terzo know? Am I allowed to know this information?

“Right away!” Sarah responds, dashing to the pattern closet. Lost in her thoughts, it takes a couple tries through the binders to find the correct one. Before leaving she thinks to grab a roll of pattern paper.

“Great instincts in grabbing the pattern paper. I’m thinking we make something… different this time and it will require new pattern pieces to work with.” Amelia looks to Copia. “Cardinal? What would your opinion be if we made the pants more... fitted to you than normal?” Amelia has a smirk on her face that could only lead to mischief. Copia looks like he just might pass out.

“Sister Amelia I am not sure I can fully visualize it but I trust your judgement!” Copia responds.

Amelia nods and gets to work. Over the next 40 minutes she measures Copia while Sarah notes it down. Occasionally she’ll make a note on more fabrics to consider or colors. Copia stands as still as possible and follows the direction of Amelia on when to raise his arms. Sarah notices for this fitting that Copia’s mind seems elsewhere. His eyes wandering off only to occasionally flit back on her through the mirror’s reflection. Even through the reflection in the mirror, Copia’s eyes pierced into her soul. Occasionally the Cardinal’s hands flex in his gloves and then balls them into fists, repeating it a few times before stopping.  

Copia walks into his quarters with a deep, tired sigh. It’s been a long day. His hallway “meeting” with Sister Imperator and Papa Nihil was… enlightening. “New blood” Copia remarks to himself. How ironic. Walking into his bedroom to change he glances at the calendar and immediately his eyes widen at what he has written for the next few days. 

“Merda!” Copia slaps his hands to his face and grimaces. Today is a feeding day! He walks out of his bedroom and over to the refrigerator for the blood bags he keeps on hand for these days. Bless this clergy. His vampiric condition is well known amongst the clergy and volunteers have given their blood to help Copia when he needs nourishment. To at least feel some dignity he fetches a wine glass from the cabinet and pours the blood into it.

Wine glass now filled, he moves to a plush chair in the living room. He lets out a content sigh at the first few sips. How could I let this sneak up on me? He thinks. It’s all the work! The Ministry has asked so much of him in the last few months. And now he will lead the Ghost Project? That couldn’t possibly be what they’re thinking?

He takes another sip of the wine. Sister Sarah? Is she new? Copia ponders if he’s seen her around the halls. She seemed excited to meet him. She must be a recently inducted member of the clergy. Maybe she was just one of the several seamstress assistants Amelia recently acquired and was anxious to get started. Copia hadn’t remembered any faces of the siblings who come into his office with requests from their bosses. He’s so used to people asking things from him he seldom remembers their faces. Only their voices ever seem to register while he pours through his work.

Another sip. Copia is almost fully back to himself. The blood is working well to improve his mood after this hellish day. I wonder if I’ll be seeing more of Sister Sarah at these fittings? Copia looks at his almost finished glass of blood “wine”. Hmm. I wonder what her blood might taste like on my tongue- Cazzo! Copia sits up straighter in his chair. Where did that come from?

Sarah is making her way down to the dining area for dinner after Amelia dismissed her for the day. The Cardinal has not left her mind since their whole encounter this afternoon. His eyes. She cannot get those duo chrome eyes out of her head. Maybe this ministry is all so new still. Sarah thinks. I’ll get used it.

  Food and drink in hand she makes her way to a table to eat. A fellow assistant of Amelia’s flags down Sarah to come eat with him. Alex, she remembers. Very helpful in keeping up with Amelia’s fast paced work. Sarah smiles to Alex for keeping a seat open.

“No worries, newbie.” Alex jokes. “I could tell from across the room you were a bit frazzled.”

“Shes just so… y’know?” Sarah huffs while taking a bite of food.

“Oh. I know. Every new assistant that comes through Amelia’s studio in the beginning gets what I like to call “The Gauntlet”. Full-on chaos for the first month or so.”

 “A month?”

“Or so! Depends on the project.” He muses.

Sarah hangs her head. “I have a feeling this will be longer than ‘a month or so’, Alex.”

“Welp! Stock up on snacks. She likes to pull all-nighters towards the end.” Alex responds kindly.

For a while they sit in silence while they eat. Sarah uses this time to take in all the sights and sounds of the mundane in something as absurd as a satanic ministry. She notices the upper clergy all eating their meals together like how teachers would eat together at lunch in school. Though, she thinks someone is missing. Cardinal Copia.

She turns to Alex. “Hey, where’s Cardinal Copia? It’s dinner time. He’s gonna miss the meal window.”

“Wait. You don’t know? He doesn’t exactly, uh, eat with everyone else all the time.” Alex looks surprised.

“I’m not following.” Sarah responds.

Alex rips off the Band-Aid. “He’s a vampire.”

Sarah laughs. Loud. Some surrounding clergy members turn around in their seats at the commotion. “Oh, wait, you’re serious?” Sarah stops laughing. “He’s a vampire?” Alex nods. “Full-on, blood sucking creature of the night?” Another nod from Alex. “Well, shit.” Sarah sits back in her chair, stunned.

Alex chuckles. “Yeah it always takes new members by surprise. Somehow devils and demons are easy to believe thanks to the presence of the Ghouls. But Copia’s vampirism is drawing the line!”  Alex waives his hands dramatically.        

“So… How does he get blood? Does he ever feed off of anyone?”

“Siblings volunteer to give blood. He needs a good amount to feed off of but only has to do it every 2 or 3 weeks. Depends on his mood and let me tell you-“ Alex warns. “You do not want to be in his way when he’s getting too close to the threshold of feeding.

Sarah nods her head. “Noted.”              

A short while later dinner is done and all the siblings and clergy members head back to their rooms. Alex’s words hadn’t left her mind. Vampire. Her hand, the one Copia held, comes to her mind as well; the buzzy feeling she felt earlier today comes back. That night Sarah dreamed of a particular Cardinal in red. Two-toned eyes circled in black paint and baring sharp teeth. She had dreams of sharp teeth imbedded in her neck sending tingly feelings all over her body while she slept.

I hope you enjoyed it! Let me know what you think :) I aim to update once a week if I can get my brain to work.

THIRTY-ONE DAYS OF GHOST ⛧ DAY ONE

first song you heard — Mary On A Cross

September 1969; Papa Nihil and the beginning of the Ghost Project take to the stage at the Whiskey a Go Go club in Los Angeles, under the watchful eye of Sister Imperator. Fifty-three years later, in Tampa, Florida, Papa Emeritus the Fourth performs Mary On A Cross, unaware that he is singing the story of his parents—and that of himself.