writingjourney

[writingjourney]

also friends if you have any questions/asks for me i'd be happy, my allergies are acting up and i can't focus on much <3

[writingjourney]

Hi Ibi ( big hug) I just wanted to yap about how the papas would love the reader entirely. Like that might sound silly but so often I feel like fics kinda lean into the “ reader must be perfect”. While I do think the papas view the reader most highly, they aren’t perfect and that’s a good thing. I think the idea means well but it can be misleading and discouraging for some folks( maybe just me lmao)

Maybe it’s because of my experience being a fat, queer, trans person but I think it’s so incredibly important for the papas to love the uniqueness of the reader. Like, yes papa would find me attractive, a big ol trans guy, but he’s also attracted to all kinds of people. He’s not limited to one “type” and doesn’t discredit the attraction he feels. I can see all of them ( maybe not Nihil) having beautiful relationships with so many different people and I think that’s inspiring.

I absolutely adore how you capture the papas. The way you write them really helps me imagine them loving me. The real me, not some fantasy or wish of who I am. And I’m forever grateful for you Ibi. You have a talent, a gift and I’m so glad you choose to share your passion with us🖤🖤

( I’m sorry if this makes no sense I’m rambling lol but I just wanted to hear your thoughts on my thoughts. Only if you want and if you’d rather not I completely respect that. Also I’d be happy to dm if you want but absolutely no pressure! )

<3 well you know i love your brain and your thoughts, first of all!!

and i 100% agree, i mean, there is something to be said about the escapism that comes with fantasizing about the perfect narrative for perfect characters that is valid and i think why so many people are drawn to the sort of idealized characters we see in a lot of romance novels and fics.

it's not really... what i want, though. i guess it's somewhat psychologically interesting haha. as a very extreme perfectionist who has suffered a lot from this in my life i think i want to be perceived as perfect, right? but in all actuality i think what i want is the reassurance i do not have to be some imaginary perfect version of myself, the permission to stop trying and omg is that not the greatest form of relief? (and love?)

but for that you do have to sort of acknowledge that everyone is "flawed", the papas and also the people they fall for. and i say "flawed" because perceived flaws are just that, perceived by ourselves most of the time and i know i probbaly idealize their reactions a lot and give them more emotional maturity but i don't really care, i think they are deeply (emotionally) intelligent men, even when their actions might not always match that because they too have their baggage. what i love most to explore in writing is different forms of intimacy which comes with trying to write everyone involved in a somewhat authentic way (not that i always do, esp. not in smut).

but yeah, i think giving the papas more complexity allows for what you said, them potentially falling for all sorts of different people. and i agree that they would, for many different reasons my allergy-addled brain cannot word right now, mostly because intimacy comes not from specific physical traits (at least how i work). but at the end of the day it's really this permission to let go of every expectation and have someone there to cherish you and do the same for them <3

[writingjourney]

What do you call a french guy wearing sandals?

Philippe Fallope

i am exposing you this time so everyone knows that you are torturing me with horrible puns almost daily 😭

[writingjourney]

also friends if you have any questions/asks for me i'd be happy, my allergies are acting up and i can't focus on much <3

[writingjourney]

my jewellery obsession continues and i have been thinking about perpetua gifting you an old victorian glass hair locket (similar to this one which i love as it is bound with a pearl thread), i imagine a sort lighter purple glass insert to enhance the contrast, silver thread and one of his perfect dark curls, either the white pearl binding remains to resemble the shade of his eye or he replaces with it black pearls, onyx, jet or even purple tourmaline to add some more meaning.

[writingjourney]

Are you still working on the Friday nights series? It's one of my favorite works from you.

First of all thank you!! It’s definitely one of my favorite things I’ve written and yes, I am still working on it :)

I plan to have the Copia installment ready for spooky season this year, I’d say I’m about 1/3 done with it writing wise but it required lots and lots of planning and research so that took up a lot of the time so far ♡

[writingjourney]

just felt like drawing the brothers

[writingjourney]

well, friends, i fear this next chapter of iknbs will leave you with even more questions than the last. do i know what i'm doing at this point? we'll have to wait and find out.

[writingjourney]

so– often, these lockets will have two seperate compartments. before you wear the locket he has you adding a curl of your own into the second one on the back with your own preferred colours. on occasion, he will wear it with this side facing forward. also, i would tell him to bury me with it in the event of my death and if not i'd haunt his ass forever.

my jewellery obsession continues and i have been thinking about perpetua gifting you an old victorian glass hair locket (similar to this one which i love as it is bound with a pearl thread), i imagine a sort lighter purple glass insert to enhance the contrast, silver thread and one of his perfect dark curls, either the white pearl binding remains to resemble the shade of his eye or he replaces with it black pearls, onyx, jet or even purple tourmaline to add some more meaning.

[writingjourney]

my jewellery obsession continues and i have been thinking about perpetua gifting you an old victorian glass hair locket (similar to this one which i love as it is bound with a pearl thread), i imagine a sort lighter purple glass insert to enhance the contrast, silver thread and one of his perfect dark curls, either the white pearl binding remains to resemble the shade of his eye or he replaces with it black pearls, onyx, jet or even purple tourmaline to add some more meaning.

[writingjourney]

Here is another musician in the same style as the Copia flutist from a while back. I made two versions, a skeleton that could be anyone and a Perpetua. That's why the outfit is purple. Both are currently being worked on as linocuts, so if you're interested, keep an eye out for the upcoming pre-order.

[writingjourney]

I seriously don’t understand how everyone is writing so fast at the moment.

[writingjourney]

Secondo, man. Just. Secondo. Secondo petting your hair as he reads, Secondo feeding you cherries from the garden, Secondo walking you to your car or taking your hand so you don’t step in a puddle..

*melts like a puddle*

(Can you please write Secondo being the biggest romantic gentleman ever thank you nema).

He held the car door open for you when he offered to drive you out to share the picnic.

It sticks in your mind because you're not used to it, not used to men treating you this way. Last night he took you to dinner and slid your chair out for you, tucked a napkin across your lap, ordered samples of wine for you to choose from. And when you talked he cared, eyes soft but intense as you chatted, nodding along and asking pithy questions.

He'd fed you a bite of his steak and you'd melted.

It's... new. You love it. Love the way he drives along the country roads with one ever so slightly possessive hand on your thigh, love the way he carries the picnic basked for you until you find the perfect spot under the shade of a beautiful willow tree.

"I ordered the cherries in. I also paid one of the kitchen Siblings to bake your favourite cake specially last night," he states, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. Maybe to him it is, treating you like this. Like you are the brightest star at the centre of his universe, a thing to be revered and worshipped. He pours you both a cup of perfectly-brewed coffee from the thermos you packed, warning you from burning your lips as it comes out scalding. Lets you have first pick of the sandwiches and feeds you a cherry, the stem between his fingers as you bite into the ripe flesh.

He looks like he wants to eat you. You'd let him.

The afternoon passes calmly, the two of you utterly rapt in the other's company. Eventually you find yourself lying on his lap, nestling into one of his strong thighs as he retrieves the book of poetry he's been reading and recites some aloud to you. He has a nice voice, relaxing and gentle, sing-songy. You drift off a little bit as he gently strokes your hair with a leather glove, warm from sunshine.

"Secondo?" you ask during a lull as he turns a page.

"Angelo mio?" he peers at you from over the paperback, eyebrows raising from behind his sunglasses.

"You're such a gentleman to me."

"You deserve it," he confesses, voice soft with emotion, something only you can eke out of him during these intimate moments.

"Secondo?"

"Mmm, what is it, lamb?"

"I like it when you do ungentlemanly things to me too, though."

You tangle your hand in his and drag it to your mouth, pressing two fingers between your lips and holding eye contact as you suck. From where you lay against him, you can feel the effect that has.

He puts the poetry aside.

"Do you now?" he asks, and, on that gingham picnic blanket beneath the willow tree, indulges you in those most ungentlemanly things.

[writingjourney]

mutuals im manifesting the softest and most tender august for all of you

[writingjourney]

Allow your Cardinal...

Full (18+)

Grayscale (18+)

[writingjourney]

Comment on fics, kudos fics, come back to a fic - read it again - go to kudos and realise you've already kudos then tell the author you are back once again

Do whatever you can to let the author know that you like what they wrote, even if it's a single emoji in that comment section ok?

LET THE AUTHOR KNOW YOU LOVE THEM because a lot of fic authors don't know that, and they need too. Let them know that they are loved

[writingjourney]

WIP preview: Tenebræ - Primo & Diana (Sister of Sin OC)

Little snippet of an in-progress fic that will (eventually) be the latest addition to my Magic Ministry AU / Keepers of the Gate series. I love a conversation in a car moment, so of course I had to have one in here...it probably won't be the last 🍂

Nestled in the gravel before the East Wing's entry, a steel-boned bullet of slate gray, clean and consciously plain, sputters impatiently. 

The ghoul holds the door open for her. In its caverned cabin, dim beneath the shade of the trees, Primo's sallow face hangs above a black sea. He sits with a phone pressed to his ear, halfway between conversations. "And what of the other possibilities?" 

It's strange to see him without the skull. His pale eyes are rimmed with traces of soot: the only evidence of makeup left on him. Buttoned in his plainclothes, he carries a primness that is equal parts executive and mortician, not a strand of hair out of place.

Diana shuffles in, mindful of her knees. Her satchel clunks between them.

"You are sure of this?" Primo mutters on. They're sealed into a vacuumed clap of leather polish and dust-dry air. The ghoul stalks back towards the front of the car, sliding behind the wheel with the ease of a chauffeur years into the trade. 

Through tinted windows, warm against the gray, the foliage of the grounds begin to bristle past. A low voice is responding on the other end of the phone. The crunching stones muddle the question they ask. 

Over his knee, Primo's fingers shift: sun-glossed leather fisted and flexed. "It's no matter."

A dry chill clings to the car's interior, stale with the dust of an HVAC still coughing out its heat. Diana watches a triage of siblings file out from the cloister. The path they take is one she's walked countless times—and in their footsteps, she walks it, herself: the crooked stone on the corner stair, the sweet pepper of juniper trees by the landing, the damp musk of flowerbeds around the black fountain.

They're a young group. Bright-eyed. She'd been just shy of twenty, herself, the first time she'd walked through the Ministry's gates—breathless in the blue-green hue of the valley, a speckled grove towering around her like a horde of giants, and in the foothills of the old mountain the Ministry had stood, there and not there: a hulking, delicate wonder: a limestone jewel in a forested crown.

It's all rust, now. The greenery fogged and brown and black. The smell of autumn filters through the car's exhaust like smoke.

Over the squealing hinges of the gates: a knifing retort on the phone.

Primo speaks calmly, firmly, the way a disciplining mother might. "Leave it." He sighs thin through his teeth. "It is nothing for you to concern yourself with—" 

Pavement batters. "You just concerned me with it—"

Words silvered as a blade. "I said leave it."

The reception splits to silence; drones to a dead buzz. 

For a moment, Primo mutters to himself. He snaps the telephone shut like a broken branch.

Diana falters, her eyes chancing a glance. Curiosity gets the best of her—trying, despite her best instinct, to fill in the gaps.

Leave what? Concerned with what? Who—?

His breath rustles low in his lungs; rustles some self-preserving grace back into her. 

She sends the thoughts running, before the man beside her may suspect her of them. These halls had whispered enough rumors of their Exalted's own Sight. No part of her wants him rummaging around in her head.

"My apologies, Sister," Primo says, tucking the phone into his coat pocket. His stare stays fixed out the windowpane, buoying over the peaks and valleys that mark Belluno's borders. "I'd...ask that you disregard that. Just a personal matter." He pauses, mulling his palm over his knee. "I trust you have all that you need?"

"Yes, Unholiness."

"Good," he drawls, lightly. But his brow is creased. His fingers pinched.

His silence clings like ozone to the dry air of the car.