Self Care Is Writing A Fic That You’re Literally The Sole Target Audience For

Better late than never right? …….Right?!

The last sentence I wrote:

Like a lamb to slaughter here in an isolated office, tucked away in the corner of the Ministry.

From a steamier Secondo WIP 👀👀 We’ll see if it ever leaves the grips of my word docs

Thank you for the tag @copias-sewer-rat and @ghostchems ♡

RULES: Post the last sentence you wrote (fanfic / original / anything) and tag as many people as there are words in the sentence.

He doesn’t fight the amused smile that tugs at his lips as he carefully extracts the expensive lighter from your hands, slipping it back into the pocket of his slacks. 

This is from my vampire Secondo fic :)

tagging: @leezlelatch , @causticjuice , @rspitespitfield , @sweatandwoe (only if you want to/haven't done it yet of course) ♡

“Copia, would you save me if I was kidnapped by ghosts?”

All is quiet in the bedroom for several seconds, the question hanging in the air before Copia rolls over, his eyes bleary from sleep as he looks at you.

“Eh…what?” His tired face screws up in confusion. “Why are ghosts kidnapping you?”

“Don’t think too much into it, just answer the question.”

Copia has the good nature to look amused by your early, early morning question, his arms wrapping around you to pull you across the mattress, squeezing you to him like a teddy bear as he rests his cheek just above yours.

“Mmm, I would be very sad, amore,” he mumbles, closing his eyes as he nuzzles sweetly into your skin. “Very angry that ghosts took you from me.”

“So what would you do?” His sweet embrace is rapidly drawing you back to sleep, your voice soft.

“Ah, la risposta è semplice. I would summon an entire demonic army to save you and deliver the ghosts unto Satan,” Copia heaves a sleepy sigh, his voice growing quieter. “Their souls would burn in the pit in eternal hellfire.”

You stir and twist in his embrace to look at him. “Wait, you can do that?”

Copia hooks a leg around yours and readjusts you, his body like a weighted blanket to calm your racing little mind. He drags the covers firmly over you both. “Go to sleep, amore.”

You fall into silence for several seconds.

“I love you, Copia.”

A lingering kiss to your forehead, a soothing thumb across your brow. “And I love you, so very much,” he says.

Prime Mover (Download Festival 2012) For @rspitespitfield 🧡

Here Comes The Sun (Luleå 2011)

Secondo

There is something utterly undeniable about secondo and how aesthetically pleasing he is.

How do you feel about Secondo as a ghoul and do you think there would be any differences to who he as a human? (Also the same for monster/creature!secondo)

This was such a targeted ask I feel like you MUST be one of my friends who knows what can of worms you’re opening and if not, I hope you’re ready for a ramble below the break, I could literally talk about this all day.

As far as a Ghoul-ified Secondo, I think he would be an earth Ghoul. (Quintessence Primo, Fire Terzo and Water Copia btwwwww) I believe he would retain most of his personality of reserved but inquisitive and atleast faux confident. I DO THINK he would be one of the more animalistic / instinctually driven ghoul types. Purrs if you scratch between his shoulders but don’t you DARE tell anyone.

I love Vampire Or Demonic Secondo trope as much as everyone else but I’m ACTUALLY in the early stages of writing a Gargoyle!Secondo fic! Following MC as they restore his now many years neglected statue and eventually leading to his re-animation. :)) I think he would retain his stone-y (haha get it) exterior but is ofc fiercely protective of his people. Nocturnal and cautious, would 100% insist upon perching himself in a reading chair while you sleep “just in case”.

I’ve been considering a full collection of a Monster/Creature Papa AU if there’s enough interest in it?? Thinking of how each Papa came to find the Ministry and so on.

for the Halloween-esque prompts!

something TOOTH-ACHINGLY fluffy with secondo 🎃 out of all the papas he seems to have the most pictures with kids, so I have a headcannon that he loves to be around them & even participate in their mischief every once in a while. Maybe he and reader help the kids at the Abbey with apple picking? Or help them put on their costumes/face paint/wigs for Halloween? have fun with it!

this hurt my teeth writing it! some suggestive language…

Secondo is so focused, moving the brush with such precision as he applies the facepaint. His brows are furrowed, lip pressed into a thin line, squinting to make sure he gets the pattern just right. He sits back in his chair and looks over his work, tilting his head while a hand rests on his chin as his eyes follow the delicate lines. You watch him from the other room and find yourself with a dreamy smile playing on your lips.

“You are all done, Giacomo.” Papa grumbles and sets down his brush then gestures towards a nearby mirror. The child happily turns to the mirror, looking cheek to cheek and smiling ear to ear.

“Papa, I look just like you!” Giacomo exclaims, turning back to look at Secondo, his eyes shining brightly.

“Si, si. Now, go get your costume on. Mass is soon.” His voice is the same as how he would speak to adults, stern and deep, but children seem to be unphased by the threatening nature of it. You like to think it’s because he speaks to them like actual people.

“Grazie, grazie, Papa!” Giacomo chirps before scrambling out of the room. You come up behind Secondo as he starts organizing his brushes, draping your arms around his shoulders. He gives a content sigh, relaxing against your touch.

“How many children are going as Papa Emeritus the Second?” You purr in his ear.

“Six.” Secondo answers then pulls himself to his feet, slipping from your grasp with a sly grin. “Helped pochi cardinali too.” He smoothes out his robes as his eyes flicker over your body. “This is your costume?”

“What, is it not up to your standards?” You frown and fold your arms over your chest. Admittedly, you didn’t try very hard, opting to wear all black (which isn’t too different from your daily outfits) and a witch’s hat.

“You won’t win the costume contest.”

“The costume contest is for kids.” Silence hangs in the air for just a moment until you cannot hold back giggles any longer. You love when he’s playful like this and you can tell it’s because it’s his favorite time of year.

“Halloween Mass is extremely sacred, amore.” Secondo teases as he starts to stalk closer to you. “We have to appease the spirits.”

“Well, maybe you should paint my face, then.”

“We don’t have enough time for that.” His voice sounds buttery smooth as he towers over you, a smirk playing on his lips. “Do you have the unholy offering?” You hold up the bag of candy you put together and he takes it, rifling through it with a gloved hand. “Hmm… you’ve put together a good selection.” He holds the bag firmly in his hand and reaches out to you with his free one. “Shall we go celebrate the undead?”

The chapel is decorated top to bottom with black and orange streamers, bat decals, broomsticks and more. You work to organize the babbling, excited children into a single file line. Secondo looms in front of the children, back to looking stoic and authoritative, but you know it’s just an act for his audience.

The children of the abbey go up one by one, uttering the sacred words of the unholy spirit (“trick or treat”) to receive their offering from Papa. You are Papa’s helper and you make sure each child has their own time to be with him, though there are some times you get distracted by the sweetness of it all. He bows down to each child, close enough so that he can hear them, and asks them how they are honoring the dead this year.

The truth is, Papa doesn’t have to do any of this. It’s not his responsibility to ensure the children of the abbey have fun Halloween, but it warms your heart to see him here, playing along and enjoying himself. It’s Giacomo’s turn and you can’t help but smile ear to ear at his incredibly accurate Secondo costume.

“Ah, Papa.” Secondo bows his head to him. “I should be asking you for your blessing.” He offers a small smirk as he gives Giacomo a few pieces of candy, and one extra — for good luck. His eyes fall to you watching him and you’re unable to stop yourself from swooning.

Maybe you’ll let him paint your face later.

Mia Arancia || Fluff || Primo x gn!Reader

Tl;dr: Sharing fruit as a love language and Primo deserves a break from gardening in the summer.

This is my first time posting writing on tumblr, I apologize if my formatting is a little clumsy <3

In the enchanting nature of the Ministry’s garden, the rows of greenery were bathed in the golden hues of the rapidly approaching end of the day and appeared as otherworldly as ever. Primo could be seen standing in the middle of his growing vegetables, looking reminiscent of a scarecrow as he marveled over what must’ve been long hours of work, remaining motionless as he stood exactly where you had hoped to find him.

Primo simply observed your leisure stroll as you made your way closer and arched an eyebrow curiously. His gaze flickered between your approaching figure and the horizon, questioning the unexpected visit. Nonetheless, the sight of you beckoning him from the other side of the garden with an eager wave only piqued his interest further. Knowing your penchant for mischief and mystery, a smile tugged at his face when you approached.

Drawing closer to Primo, you tilted your head, studying his countenance intently. His voice, though calm and composed, carried a note of playful suspicion.

"And to what do I owe the pleasure?" He inquired with a twinkle of amusement in his eyes. "You're up to something, aren't you, mio dolcezzo?"

You shook your head, your faux serious expression suddenly shifting into a wide grin. "No, no," you responded, your voice laden with a faux sense of urgency. "This is a matter of very serious business, my dear. C’mere." With a playful flourish, you waggled your fingers and extended a hand in a hopeful invitation.

Once your fingers had interlaced together, the two of you ventured further into the back corners of the garden. Eventually, your steps came to a halt, leading you to a secluded alcove adorned by a magnificent orange tree. Its branches gracefully bowed under the weight of growing fruit imbued with the warm hues of a setting sun. Primo’s eyes sparkled with delight as his gaze swept over the nearly picturesque scene before him, his eyes moving from the lush emerald leaves to your face. A smile played upon his lips as he clasped your hands in his own, your fingers entwined like an unbreakable bond.

“Ah, you’ve led me to the orange tree,” he whispered, a blend of curiosity and surprise clearly evident in his words. A confused chuckle escaped him.

“I had planned on harvesting these in a few days time.” he admitted with a hint of amusement.

Before he could continue, you drew his attention to a particularly low-hanging branch which bent under the weight of a perfectly ripe orange. Excitement brimmed in your voice as you pointed it out, the already wrinkled sleeve of his shirt crumpled further in your fist in attempt to pull his body closer to the branch in question.

“But look! This one is ripe today.”

Leaning over your shoulder, Papa reached up to gracefully pluck the orange from its branch. A glimmer of admiration danced in your eyes as you watched his movements, amazed by the confidence held in the simple swing of his arm as he brought it back down to open his palm in a proposal.

“Are you suggesting we share our first orange of the harvest?” He gently turned the fruit in his hand, inspecting the dip where the gentle curve of a leather peel met the wooden stem. The time spent considering what he had asked was closer to a day dream rather than a debate on your actual answer, artificial hesitation induced by an overactive imagination. After a few moments your distraction was cut short by the feel of firm, pitted rind being pressed into your palm. “We must eat it together, of course," His expression beamed with a sense of pride as he spoke, eagerly presenting you with the literal fruit of his labor as a treasure to be cherished, shared.

“I’ve always thought oranges are best when split with someone else.” It was hard to resist a smile while agreeing and holding the orange up to the light to study it for yourself. Sitting down in the grass under the tree, there’s a comforting wave of tranquility as you lean back against the textured bark before pushing a fingernail against the rough skin of the fruit and slowly beginning to pull it apart. Primo slowly sits down next to you with a soft sigh as his muscles stretch, your shoulders bumping together sending a rush of electricity through your veins even after all the time you’d spent together.

"You know, you're quite good at peeling these things," he mentions quietly as he studies your movements. "How do you do it so effortlessly?" He asks curiously, raising a brow. You laugh in response, the sound twinkling like wind chimes in the light breeze as you held out a slice of the orange to Primo.

“Lots of practice. Oranges are my favorite.”

"Orange peeling is a rather unique skill to practice," The grin that shines on his face could easily beat out the brilliance of the sun when he reaches out to take the section of fruit.

“You can peel it so easily and swiftly," He continues with a hint of admiration in his voice.

“You always make the simplest of things most interesting. Thank you for offering your skills to me, mia arancia." His attempts to butter you up make you laugh, scooting closer to him in order to duck under his arm despite the summer heat that still lingered in the air.

"We'll have to share one each day, sì?" He suggests while biting into the orange slice, the sweet juice dribbling on his chin and smearing along the black lines of his face paint that was already distorted by the sweat of the day.

“I would like that very much. It’ll remind you to take a break, too.” You tease Primo playfully. Despite being retired, he still insists upon spending long days tending to his plants, rare to take a rest without being prompted. The thought of meeting every day for something so small simmered in your mind, the tender domesticity of being near one another for no real reason other than to exist. Together.

“Did you know there’s a lot of poetry about sharing oranges with your loved ones?” You ask suddenly as you pop a slice of the juicy fruit into your mouth and continue to peel the opposite side.

"I didn't know that," he admits. "About the poetry." He pauses for a moment. "What does it say?" He asks quietly while he lays his head atop yours, content to watch your fingers move swiftly to continue separating the sections.

“It’s all symbolic of sharing your life and love in a gentle way. A simple act of service can carry great meaning, you see?”

Pure contentment bubbles in your chest as you feel Papa shift closer to you and the feather light flutter of his lips pressing a kiss against your shoulder is enough to make you wonder if you have ever truly felt this peaceful before. You hold up another piece of the fruit close to his face in offering as you explain further.

“To love someone enough to cherish the mundane. I’ll read you some.”

And so you sat together until long after the horizon imitated the color of the fruit passed between between your hands, repeating lines of prose while sharing an orange or three with the sweet nectar sticky between your fingers and lips.

“[..] They got quarters and I had a half.

And that orange, it made me so happy,

As ordinary things often do

Just lately. The shopping. A walk in the park.

This is peace and contentment. It's new.

The rest of the day was quite easy.

I did all the jobs on my list

And enjoyed them and had some time over.

I love you. I'm glad I exist.”

-The Orange, Wendy Cope, 1992

Yeehaw 🤠

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Eat me

And with this, we have three out of four works completed. Only Copia is missing, and then maybe a couple of extras, even if just rough drafts (nobody believes that, cough cough). In the time-lapse of this, you can see my inner struggle to want to insert myself, the nun had a face twice, and I really had to contemplate leaving her without one. I think at the end of the series, I'll explain the purpose of the miniseries for those who are interested, but for now, I'll just say that the reason is that I want to kiss old men on the lips.

And now, it's late, and I should sleep, but I'm thinking of a collection of short fanfiction stories between the Popes and the Sisters. Or between the Popes and the readers. The voices in my head are very loud tonight, I have to go to bed.

If you like it, let me know, if you leave shameless comments, I appreciate them, they're worth as much as a tip. If you also want to kiss old men on the lips, let's start a club.

Wdym I'm 5,000 words into part 3 of Confessional and no one has bumped uglies yet?

WHAT DO YOU MEAN??!?!?!?!??!?!!!!!?!?!?!??!?!