Been in a ghost phase
Mike Driver
cherry valley forever
AnasAbdin
Today's Document
Cosimo Galluzzi
todays bird

PR's Tumblrdome

Origami Around
trying on a metaphor
styofa doing anything
sheepfilms
I'd rather be in outer space đž

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No title available
RMH
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her

Discoholic đȘ©
dirt enthusiast

shark vs the universe

⣠Chile in a Photography âŁ

seen from Germany
seen from Germany

seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
seen from Spain

seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Germany
seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from Germany
seen from Germany
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
@aceselfships
Been in a ghost phase
Terzito wearing my ritual outfit :3c âšđ€đ§
Papa III Arriving Late and Un-gloved.
[Ghost Perform in Newark, NJ]
hands and gloves đđ„”
Terzo pictures where he is very legg
It's not lost on me that the blurrier and more obscured he is, the more legg he appears :] Some of these pictures are cheating a little in other ways too. Sue me.
Of course I'm including the most legg picture I have of him in Papal Mode. I love Papal Terzo, dammit. He was so. damn. beautiful.
Anime Legs Terzo isn't real, he can't hurt you
Anime Legs Terzo:
i miss him so fucking bad
cr: chloecopia on tt
staying under the covers with your f/o(s) when it's cold outside. the snow, rain or wind can be heard from outside and the whole room has a dim but warm feel to it.
maybe they are listening to you as you read out loud to them, maybe you both are doing your own things just enjoying the company and a warm bed or you two are just catching up on rest. whatever it may be, you are both safe and warm and happy. cant beat that.
{divider ; @/cursed-carmine} {proship dni}
Io sono Papa Emeritus...Terzo
Our specialest little lad's first public appearance
(Original video was hit with a copyright strike, ripđ)
Dark Prince
infernal - terzo x f!reader - part ten
absolutely incredible art i've been sitting on for months by @piaart - LOVE YOU
authorâs note: i can't believe this day is here. i was so excited to write this chapter since i started this fic but working on it felt daunting. i wanted it to be perfect. well! this chapter is definitely not perfect but i like it and i am so proud of myself for overcoming some serious ass writer's block. i hope you guys enjoy it!! this chapter is all DRAMA. wit a special guest star :) part one/ two/ three/ four/ five/ six/ seven/ eight /nine . ao3 link.
You have to quit your job.
That would be the logical decision.
Terzo kicked you out of his house yesterday after you had questioned him, after you had finally grown too afraid to keep your mouth shut.
He wanted you to move in. He wanted you to live there in that house with him as he would continue to chip away at your sanity and refuse to explain anything. Some people could live like that but not you.
Devotion | Terzo x f!reader
Kinktober 2025 Day 13 (Collaring)
CW: established relationship, dollification kink, objectification, soft dom Terzo, everybody lives AU, casual collaring ceremony, Terzo struggling post retirement, brief mention of smut but this is pretty much just fluff
Terzo makes a plan to show his commitment and appreciation for his doll.
Can be read as a stand alone, but follows on from Marionette
AO3 Link
Terzo comforting a crying female reader who's kind but doesn't feel all that likable, good enough, or smart enough? For a fic?
This was extremely healing for me in ways I didnât even know I needed đ€ I am not sure if you feel the same way Ghestie, but just know youâre always safe here and you always have a friend here đ€
Orbiting You
You confess your insecurities in tears; he answers with sacred silk, whispered devotion, and the promise of a thousand duels in your name. Terzo wonât let you forget your worthâeven if he has to remind you every single day.
Coupling: Papa Emeritus iii x Female reader
Word Count: 925
You did not mean to cry where anyone would actually find you. In the moment, you feel overwhelmed and you run towards the most secluded place you can think of- the ministry gardens. It is dusk and you figure that you can let the floodgates down in total solitude. It is only meant to be a quick release of pent up emotions and frustrations- no more than 5 minutes. Once you begin to let the knot unravel though, the tears come steadily and you place your face in both hands to muffle the sounds spilling from your throat.
That is the exact moment a familiar voice comes from behind you.
âAmore?â
Walking up behind you with his eyebrow cocked and his usual swagger in his step, he catches a glimpse of your posture and immediately realizes what is happening. Straightening his posture he quickly walks up to you and gently takes you by the hands. Placing one on his heart he gasps in playful shock
âMio dio! Who has done this to you?! Tell me their name, adesso! I will duel them at dawn! No, no. That is far too long. I will duel them now! Sword, pistol, spoon, black magic! I will destroy them.â
You give him a wet shaky laugh despite being so upset.
âTerzo, itâs not like that I-â
âDo not protect them!â He starts patting his pockets looking for his gloves as if they are dueling gloves.
âTerzo.â You shake your head and sigh, trying to wipe your eyes with the back of your hands. âTheres no one. Itâs really justâŠme.â
That stops him cold and his silly demeanor fades as a look of concern plasters his face. Stepping closer to you in a couple of long strides, all theatrics are gone. His hand is gentle yet persistent as it lifts your chin so your eyes lock on each other.
âSpiegami.â He mutters softly. âExplain.â
The words spill out of your mouth like a waterfall. How you donât feel likable enough. Smart enough. How it feels like everyone around you possesses something special but you just feel plainâŠlike you are just there merely existing. A shadow.
His eyes visibly change. A darkness flashing into themâŠnot with anger or frustrationâŠbut something much deeper and fierce. Protectiveness. Listening intently, he lets you finish and shakily trail off before he speaks.
âAh. Cara Mia. How cruel you areâŠto yourself.â
Running fingers along your cheek he looks down into your eyes, pinning you in place. A thumb brushes tears away, reverently. Taking you by the hand he leads you to a nearby bench and sits you down, removing his papal robes and placing them over your shoulders. You pull them tight around you like a warm hug and breathe in his woodsy scent, completely uniquely Terzo. Sitting beside you he pulls you into his lap and holds both sides of your face gently, but sternly enough so you canât look away.
âYou think you are not good enough, Tesoro? You? Who listens when anyone speaks? Who pays attention and pours their love and care into those around her? You? Who cares about everyone more than herself? Do you know what it does to me? The way your smile makes this wretched heart of mine beat easier and gives me a purpose?â His Italian accent is slipping through thickly as he speaks more passionately about you. âCara, I am surrounded by people who only think of nothing but themselves. Not you. You are true of heart. Rare. Beautiful inside and out. Perfetta. This is why I orbit you. Why I cannot stay away, amore.â
You swallow the lump forming in your throat as tears well in your eyes again. Not from sadness this time, but from the raw emotion and sincerity in the tone of his voice and words.
When you try to protest him he immediately puts a finger to your lips silencing the thoughts.
âNo amore. I will not let you dismiss and talk so poorly of yourself again.â
The dramatics return but softer than usual. Producing from his pocket a purple handkerchief embroidered with golden skulls- he presses it into your hand as if a sacred offering of a long forgotten ancient relic.
âHere. To dry all your tears. Very sacred. Very holy. Worth more than any diamond. Just for you.â
A small laugh escapes your lips. Smiling at the sound he pulls you into the warmth of his chest. Arms tightening around you and resting his chin on the top of your head, he softly hums a low tune that radiates deep comfort through your body.
For awhile neither one of you speak at all, enjoying this moment locked in each otherâs arms. The tension is draining from your body bit by bit as he draws small circles with his fingertips along your back. You feel a bit more steady and stronger with each pass of his fingertips against you.
When he finally lifts your head, resting his forehead against yours gingerly, he says softly in a voice meant only for you
âSo. Next time this feeling comes on just know that your Papa is ready to fight a thousand battles in your name. And if that is not enough to convince youâŠâ
His lips brush against your temple remaining there for a long moment.
âThen stay close to me and I will remind you every. single. day.â
Wrapped up safely in his robes, in the warmth of his body and voice, you canât help but believe himâŠAt least a little bit.
Death by eye contact đ
get wiggled upon
Iâm Just an Insect, Youâre the Shine:
word count : 3,030 âŽïžâ.Ë
You donât remember when the weight of today started settling on your shoulders. Maybe it was that early email, the one that made your stomach twist. Maybe it was the conversation that followedâtoo many expectations, not enough support. Maybe it was just everything. But now it clings to you, silent and heavy, like smoke in your lungs.
The world outside your window is a smudge of dusk and drizzle, cool grey swallowing up the warmth of the day. You donât realize youâve been standing at the door, keys in hand, for almost a minuteâjust staring at the handle like it might open itself, like it might lead somewhere else entirely.
But the door clicks, swings open.
And heâs there.
âAh, amore mio,â Terzo says, voice soft and lilting like velvet draped across old wood. His tone is lower than usual, careful. He sees it in your eyes, the day youâre carrying. âCome in.â
You donât answer. You just step in and close the door behind you like it might keep the whole world out.
Terzo doesn't press you. He never does when youâre like this. He simply offers his hand, palm up and waiting. You take it, wordlessly. His fingers are warm, rings cool against your skin, grounding. He tugs you gentlyâinto the living room, into quiet.
You melt into the couch, or maybe you collapse. Either way, you end up curled slightly toward him, your body aching for something safe. His arm slips behind your shoulders, and he pulls you close, no fanfare, no questions. Just his presence, as dependable as the heartbeat you barely notice until it slows.
âToday was... not kind to you,â he murmurs, lips brushing your temple.
Thatâs when your chest tightens. Just enough to sting. Just enough to feel like your breath gets caught in your throat.
âIâm so tired, Terzo,â you whisper. âItâs too much today.â
He exhales softly, resting his cheek against your head. âThen we will do nothing at all, tesoro. Not one single thing. Just breathe with me, sĂŹ?â
You nod, eyes closed now, throat thick.
Terzo stays still for a whileâlong enough for your breathing to find some rhythm again. Outside, the rain picks up just enough to tap on the windows like a lullaby. He hums, low and tuneful, the beginnings of a melody you donât recognize but that wraps around you all the same.
âLet me take care of you tonight,â he says after a moment. âJust tonight, let me be the soft thing you need.â
Itâs a strange thing, having permission to let go. But with him, it's easy. With Terzo, nothing feels like too much. Not even you.
ă Ą
You donât know how long you sit like that, tucked under his arm, your face hidden against the soft fabric of his shirt. He smells like warmth and incense and something faintly sweet, like the ghosts of roses past. His fingertips move in slow circles on your arm, not expecting anything in return, not asking anything of youâjust existing there, warm and human and yours.
He tilts his head to kiss your forehead. It's not rushed. It's the kind of kiss that says I see you. The kind that lingers even after his lips lift.
âCan I get you something, bella mia?â he whispers into your hair. âTea? A blanket? Me wrapped around you like a scarf?â
You manage the smallest laugh, a little cracked at the edges. âJust⊠stay. Please.â
âAlways.â
He shifts a little, just enough to pull you fully into his lap. You let him. His arms come around your waist, one hand smoothing slowly up your back, the other cupping the back of your head like heâs afraid the day might break you and he wants to hold all your pieces in place.
âThere you are,â he murmurs as you bury your face in the curve of his neck. âThis is where you live now. In my arms. Rent-free, forever.â
You huff out a breath against his skin, which might be a laugh or a sobâmaybe both. He holds you a little tighter in response, his lips pressing to your temple, your cheek, the side of your nose. Featherlight kisses, one after another, like heâs trying to dust the sadness off of you, bit by bit.
Every kiss says: Youâre safe.
Every kiss says: You donât have to be strong right now.
And maybe you donât. Maybe just for this evening, you can let it all go.
Youâre not sure when your tears start. Itâs not a dramatic thing, no sobs or shaking, just a quiet wetness that slips down your cheek as your body sinks further into him. You donât even bother hiding it.
He notices, of course. Terzo always notices. He gently tilts your face toward him, his thumb wiping at the dampness beneath your eye.
âAmore⊠you donât have to carry it alone,â he says, voice like a lullaby. âEven if you think itâs silly. Even if it feels too big.â
âI didnât want to fall apart today,â you murmur, looking away.
He guides your face back to his, tender but insistent. âThen fall apart tonight, with me. Iâll catch you. I want to catch you.â
His lips meet yoursâsoft and slow. Not urgent. Just sure. He kisses you like itâs a promise, like the world outside doesnât exist. When he pulls back, he rests his forehead against yours and whispers, âYou deserve gentleness, even on your messiest days. Especially then.â
He doesnât move far. His nose brushes yours, a quiet affection in every tiny touch. Then another kiss, this time to the tip of your nose, then your cheek, your jaw. His arms stay wrapped tightly around you, the weight of him anchoring you to this moment.
The room hums with warmth, the rain outside continuing its gentle percussion.
âYou know what I think?â he says, one hand now moving to your hair, carding through it slowly, again and again. âI think the world is too loud, and youâre too lovely for it. So Iâm going to keep you here, where the quiet lives.â
He kisses your hair, the crown of your head, slow and reverent.
âLet me draw a bath for you,â he says after a moment. âHot, full of lavender and rose. Then Iâll wrap you in your fluffiest robe, make you tea, and kiss every last bit of stress off your shoulders. Yes?â
You hesitate. You donât want to move. You donât want to leave the safety of his arms.
He smiles softly and presses another kiss to your lips. âIâll carry you if I must, my sweet. Donât test me. Iâm very dramatic.â
You finally nod, and he rises with you still in his armsâbecause of course he does. You cling to him without shame, your cheek pressed to his collarbone, and he carries you down the hallway as if you weigh nothing, like heâs done it a hundred times before.
ă Ą
The hallway is dim and quiet, save for the soft sound of rain against the windows and Terzoâs even breathing as he carries you. You feel his heart under your ear, steady and slow. Each step rocks you gently, like being cradled by the world itself.
When he pushes the bathroom door open with his shoulder, warm light spills into the hall. He nudges it shut behind him with a bump of his heel and sets you gently down on the edge of the bathtub, his hands lingering on your hips.
âJust a moment,â he says softly, brushing his knuckles under your chin. âIâll make it perfect.â
He turns on the tap, adjusting the heat with practiced ease, and pulls down the small drawer where he keeps his indulgencesâbottles of oils and salts and dried flower petals like spells waiting to be cast. He picks a vial with rose gold flecks suspended in lavender oil and pours a generous swirl into the water. The scent unfurls like a sigh.
Then come the rose petals, the kind he insists arenât too much for everyday use. âEvery day should be a little holy,â he once told you. âAnd you, amore mio, are divine.â
You watch him through damp lashes as he prepares the bathânot just like a man drawing water, but like a priest preparing an altar.
When he turns back to you, his gaze softens instantly. He kneels in front of you, both hands coming to rest on your thighs, warm and reassuring.
âMay I help you undress?â he asks gently.
You nod.
Thereâs nothing clinical or rushed about it. His fingers are slow and sure, easing your shirt up over your head, brushing a kiss over your shoulder as it passes. He helps you out of the rest, each motion more reverent than the last, like youâre something sacred. His hands move with care, pausing now and then to press a kiss to your skinâyour collarbone, your sternum, your shoulder blades.
When youâre bare, he holds your gaze.
âYou are beautiful, even when you feel like unraveling,â he says, fingers trailing along your jaw. âEspecially then.â
He helps you into the tub with both hands, steady and sure, and you sink beneath the water like it's a warm embrace. The heat coils around your sore muscles, the scent of lavender and rose curling into your lungs, and for the first time all day, your body begins to loosen.
Terzo stays beside the tub, sitting on a stool he pulls close. He rolls up his sleeves, dips a cloth into the water, and begins to gently wash you. Slow strokes over your shoulders, your arms, your back. His movements are silent devotion.
âThis is my favorite version of time,â he says after a while, voice quiet, âwhen it slows down for us. When nothing exists but thisâyour skin beneath my hands, your breath in my ears, the way your eyelashes flutter when you relax.â
He leans in and presses a kiss to your temple. Then one to your cheek. Then, without breaking contact, his lips brush the edge of your mouthâsoft and lingering. You tilt your face toward him, and the kiss deepens by fractions, still slow, still tender. Itâs not about heat. Itâs about anchoring you to the moment. About letting you know you are seen, completely.
âYouâre safe,â he murmurs. âSay it with me, tesoro.â
âIâm safe,â you whisper.
Again. A kiss to your forehead.
âIâm safe.â
One to your shoulder.
âIâm safe.â
One to your heart.
ă Ą
He helps you out of the tub when the water begins to cool, wrapping you in a thick robe he warmed beforehand. It smells like himâsandalwood and spice and comfort. He pulls the hood over your damp hair and kisses your nose, smiling.
âThere. My little burrito of sadness. Now a burrito of peace.â
You manage a sleepy laugh and lean into him again, and once more, he lifts youâeasily, without complaintâand carries you back to the living room.
He sets you down gently onto the couch, then piles every available blanket over you with the kind of determined fussiness only he could make charming.
âNow. Tea?â he asks, already heading for the kitchen.
âPlease.â
He returns minutes later with your favorite mug, a soft steam curling from the top. He hands it to you carefully and then joins you on the couch, tucking himself in beside you so close heâs practically wrapped around you. You find yourself cradled again, your legs over his, your head tucked beneath his chin.
He holds you like a treasure. Like something fragile he knows how to protect.
âI wish I could take every hard thing from you,â he whispers. âIâd carry them all on my back if I could.â
âYou already do,â you murmur. âYouâre⊠everything I needed today.â
He goes quiet, then tilts your face up to his.
His eyes are soft and dark, holding something unspoken.
âYou are everything I need, every day,â he says, before leaning in and kissing you againâdeeper this time, but still unhurried. His hands cradle your face like heâs memorizing the shape of it.
This kiss doesnât end quickly. It ebbs and flows, warm and slow, with his thumbs brushing along your cheekbones, your lips parting gently under his. Thereâs a hum in your chest, a vibration of relief and presence, of being held and wanted.
You stay like that, kissing and breathing each other in, until your limbs are jelly and your eyes flutter closed between touches.
When you finally rest your head against his shoulder again, your body is lighter than itâs felt in days. Maybe weeks.
He notices the shift, the way your breath slows. His hand moves to your hair again, carding through it like a lullaby.
âYou donât have to be okay right away,â he says, barely above a whisper. âYou just have to be here. With me. And Iâll keep the world away.â
âI love you,â you murmur into his chest.
You feel the way his whole body reactsâa stillness, a pause, and then a long, soft exhale.
âI love you too, anima mia,â he says. âSo much. So deeply, sometimes I feel it in my bones.â
He presses a kiss to your hair, then your forehead again, then to each knuckle of the hand heâs holding.
âClose your eyes. Iâve got you.â
You do. And for the first time all day, maybe all week, you feel safe enough to let go.
ă Ą
The quiet stretches long and gentle between you.
Outside, the rain has faded into mist. Just the occasional drop falls now, like the sky is finally resting too. Inside, youâre cocooned in warmth: wrapped in layers of blankets, pressed to Terzoâs chest, the flicker of a candle throwing golden light across his cheekbones.
You feel his hand on your back, moving in slow, rhythmic strokes. His breathing is steady beneath your earâlike a lullaby all by itself. Every now and then, he presses a kiss into your hair. Theyâre not planned. Not performative. Just instinct, like a flower leaning toward the sun.
Your limbs are heavy now, but in the best way. The tension that curled itself into your bones has melted. You shift slightly, and Terzo adjusts immediately, pulling you tighter, tucking your head beneath his chin again like itâs your rightful place.
âSono qui,â he whispers. âIâm here.â
You smile faintly into his chest, and he feels it.
âBetter?â he asks, voice warm and quiet.
You nod. âStill a little... heavy. But softer now.â
âGood. Weâre in no rush.â He kisses your temple again, lips brushing softly over your skin. âI want to hold you until you feel light again. Or until you fall asleep right here on me. Whichever comes first.â
Your eyes are already fluttering shut.
âYou really donât mind?â you murmur, sleep slurring your voice just a little.
He huffs a soft laugh, and the sound vibrates gently through his chest.
âTesoro. I want this. To hold you when youâre tired, to be your soft place when the world isnât. That is not a burden. That is a blessing.â
Your breathing slows as his hands trace lazy, comforting circles against your back. The hand at your waist tightens slightly, anchoring you, and then his lips are backâyour forehead, your cheek, the soft spot just below your ear. So many kisses, each one like a small tether keeping you here, in this safety, in this love.
The rain has stopped completely now, leaving behind the hush of a world washed clean.
Terzo hums a quiet tune, just for you. Something low and wordless. It doesnât matter what it isâit feels like home. His fingertips continue their slow, steady motion in your hair, soothing the last frayed threads of your day into stillness.
And thenâjust as your mind begins to driftâhe whispers, right beside your ear:
âYouâre allowed to rest now, amore. Youâve done more than enough. Let me be the one to stay awake and keep the quiet for you.â
You want to say something back. Want to tell him how deeply this moment means to you, how loved you feel, how the world doesnât seem quite as sharp with him in it.
But your bodyâs already answering for you.
Your breathing evens out, deep and slow.
He feels it.
He smiles against your hair.
He pulls the blankets up a little higher and shifts just enough to rest more comfortably, making sure not to disturb your peace. Then, in the silence, he continues holding you like something precious, like something breakableâbut only because you deserve to be held so gently.
He doesn't sleep. Not right away.
He just watches over you, fingertips brushing the back of your hand, a soft smile still on his lips. He murmurs things in Italian you wonât hearâsweet nothings, endearments, little praises only meant for you.
Eventually, when the last candle burns low and the quiet is complete, he closes his eyes too.
But even then, his arms never let you go.
ê± ËŚ â à Notes:
It's been such a rough and super stressful day, so please enjoy this one. Thinking about Terzo when things get too much is always so comforting Ë àŁȘâč I really do view him as a huge lovebug who actually enjoys all this loving stuff. He may be cunty but deep down he's the biggest sweetheart the world has seen â
infernal - terzo x f!reader - part nine
wonderful art by the amazingly talented @piaart
authorâs note: 18+! mdni! shout to @silverandarsenic-hcs for sending me an ask and lighting a fire under my butt to finish this chapter!!! sometimes that's all it takes. there's some... muff munchin'. also once again unsure if this is even good. part one/ two/ three/ four/ five/ six/ seven/ eight. ao3 link.
"You've been quiet this evening, toppolino."
Terzo stretches out on the rug, the firelight dancing across his white paint, making it luminescent. He's discarded his jacket, the intricate white vest remaining as he rolls his sleeves to his elbows, revealing dark hair dusting his forearms. His tone is teasing but deep down heâs concerned. There is nothing comfortable about this silence and the fact that your gaze is set on everything other than him will not do.
papa can't hear you // oakville 2016