Lucy. Female. Early 20's. She / Her. My mainly cartoon, but also multifandom sideblog. I'm just a cartoon fan who enjoys the taste of a delicious candy bar every now and then. 😋 🍫 Chocolate Chip Pancakes give me ultimate life~! 😀 🥞 🍫 💕 🥞 🍫 💕 I reblog/post about animated shows, animated movies, animated things, etc. I also reblog from a lot of different fandoms, lol. I've decided that I want to make this a writing blog as well, where I write short fics, short stories, drabbles, headcanons etc from time to time on any of the cartoons /animated / fandom stuff that gets reblogged / posted on here that I like and know. I love to reblog writing positivity! 😃 ❤️ 😃 ❤️ ✍️ ✏️📚 🗒️ I also love me some Vocaloid music! 🎵 💙 🎵 💙 😌 👌(Miku is my fav! 💙 💙 💙) I have a bunch of fictional waifus and husbandos, lol. 💒 👰 🤵 💍 💕 I WILL FOREVER LOVE ECLIPSA BUTTERFLY! BEST QUEEN! 👑 💜 ♠️ 🍫 🌹 I don't mind taking a request if you would like me to write something for you! The only thing I ask is plz no nsfw requests since I don't do those, and I want this blog to be sfw (slightly suggestive is fine, tho). Also, no requests that involve incest, suicide, extreme gore, self-harm, abuse, or anything pedophilic / underage. I'm a bit new in writing, and sometimes I get nervous because I don't think my writing is the best, but I will make sure that I try my hardest to make my work adequate. 🙂 My writing is tagged as "my writing.'' thewaifuwhowrites is my writing sideblog for this sideblog. Icon is a commission drawn by @bilumiart.
Unikitty! Human AU Carnival/Amusement Park Headcanons 💖 🎡 🎠
Summary: Some headcanons for a human au where Unikitty and Puppycorn go to the carnival / amusement park! 💖 💙 🎡 🎠 (Featuring Dr. Fox, Hawkodile, Richard, Master Frown, and Brock!)
Ao3 version Part 1 (Part 2)
Enjoy!
💖 🐱 Unikitty:
• Unikitty was thrilled when she found out that she and her friends were taking a trip to the Unikingdom carnival!
• At the carnival, the first ride she hops onto is the merry-go-round because she finds the carousel horses to be ABSOLUTELY ADORABLE! They even had a unicorn one there! The unicorn seat she chose looked a bit like a unicorn-cat hybrid. It had a light pink muzzle with dark pink blush stickers on its cheeks, large blue eyes with an eyelash coming out of the sides of each of them, bright pink triangular ears with a blue unicorn horn, a light green collar around its neck, and not to mention a bushy blue tail with a white underside! She wondered why it looked so familiar to her before quickly shrugging it off. It was probably nothing.
• Cotton candy is her favorite fun fair treat! The sweet, fluffy confection whipped from spun sugar is scrumptious!
• When playing a game with her little brother at one of the game booths, Unikitty tries not to be so competitive about winning since she remembers what happened last time in the episode "Spoooooky Game".
💙 🐶 Puppycorn:
• He loves everything about the fair: the various attractions, the smell of food in the air, the animal acts, and so on.
• HE WANTS TO RIDE ALLL THE RIDES! His favorite ride has to be the bumper cars. He also loves the bounce house as well.
• He'll try to make friends with the Clown there.
• He picked a giant golden retriever plush as his prize after winning the ring toss.
🦊 🔭 Dr.Fox:
• She loves being Unikingdom's resident scientist, but it’s always nice to take a break from all that science stuff to spend time with her friends.
• Is interested in the more challenging carnival games. You know, those games that really require you to use your noggin and think. She also likes the game where you have to guess an animal’s weight.
• To beat the classic carnival game known as "One Ball" (the game where milk bottles are stacked in a pyramid and you get one throw with a ball to try to knock them all down) she thinks about how redistributing an object's mass can affect how well it balances.
• She uses her intelligent mind and basic knowledge to beat the games that are considered rigged.
🦅 🕶 Hawkodile:
• He came along because as Unikitty's royal guard it's important for him to be there in case anything were to happen. The carnival might be a fun and happy place, but you never know what dangers could possibly be lurking there.
• Unikitty and Puppycorn are having trouble winning at a game that really requires you to use your strength? Hawkodile to the rescue!
• He LOVES the rides that go really, REALLY, fast!
• Will run his own kissing booth to get the attention of a certain orange-haired scientist, only for her not to really notice him or the booth.
Richard:
• Wait, why is he here again? Oh yeah, The princess kept begging for him to join her and the others on their little outing to the fair, and being Unikitty's royal advisor and caretaker, he had no other choice but to be apart of their carnival adventure.
• Looking more at the negative, he states how all the rides there are pretty much the same (them being completely circular) and that all the games are rigged because no one wants you to really win.
• He doesn't really do much. He wishes Unikitty would have chosen a quieter place for them to have fun, like a library or museum.
• In the event that Unikitty is too short to ride a particular ride and requires an adult to ride with her, he is usually the first person she turns to.
Master Frown:
• Unikitty's going to the fair? TIME TO RUIN HER DAY!
• He's the one who's been rigging all the games.
• Tries to turn the amusement park into a place where everyone is miserable 24/7, but fails to achieve that goal.
• Giving Unikitty an obsessive amount of attention, he tries multiple attempts to ruin her day or get her upset, but the things he does only backfire and make her even happier than before, peeving him off.
Brock:
• Hey, if Frown was going to the fair, he might as well go too, right? He had little to do in their apartment and the dishes and chores were already done, so why not?
• Since Frown was giving all his attention to Unikitty, he decided to fly solo for today.
• HE'S SO GONNA TRY ALL THE JUNK FOOD THAT THEY SERVE THERE.
• He spent a majority of his time in the theme park's arcade. Before leaving, he uses his tickets to buy an inflatable alien. He carries it around and talks to it.
Summary: To the world, Minerva Mink is the ultimate heartthrob, the girl who makes every wolf howl.
But once the director yells "Cut!" and the cameras stop rolling, the heels come off and the glasses go on. Minerva lives for oversized sweaters, frizzy hair, and complex gaming strategies.
It's a perfect double life—until Wilford B. Wolf accidentally wanders into her trailer and finds the starlet mid-raid in a tabletop RPG.
Ao3 version
I take fic requests (Fic requested by a user on ao3)
Enjoy!
The set was a masterpiece of Hollywood art deco.
The air was thick with the scent of expensive perfume and the heat of a dozen high-powered spotlights.
Minerva Mink stood center stage, draped in a silk gown that caught the light like liquid silver.
She blinked her long lashes at the camera, her voice a sultry purr that could make a statue's heart skip a beat.
"Oh, darling," she cooed, leaning against a velvet curtain. "Is that a rare first-edition manuscript in your pocket, or are you just—"
"CUT! PRINT IT!" the Director barked.
The magical aura vanished instantly.
The spotlights hummed as they powered down, and the crew began scurrying around to move crates.
Minerva didn't wait. The second the "On Air" light flickered off, her shoulders slumped with a massive sigh of relief.
The sultry pout vanished, replaced by a weary grimace.
She kicked off her silver stilettos—sending one flying into a nearby prop bush—and marched toward her trailer with the determined stride of someone who had been holding their breath for eight hours.
Inside the trailer, the transformation began.
She reached behind her neck and unzipped the silk dress, letting it fall in a heap on the floor.
She didn't care about the dry cleaning; she cared about the red sweater.
It was sitting on her vanity—oversized, slightly pilled at the elbows, and looking like a warm hug.
She pulled it over her head, her blonde hair static-charging and frizzing out in a wild, golden halo as her head popped through the neck hole.
She then slid her thick, black-rimmed glasses onto her nose.
The world stopped being a soft, blurry glow and became sharp and detailed.
"Alright, boys," she muttered, her voice now high-pitched and fast. "Mama's back."
She sat down at her desk, which was covered in a sprawling map of a dungeon, several multi-sided dice, and a headset.
She clicked a button on her computer.
"Sorry I'm late, 'Shadow-Walker-99'. The director wanted five takes of the 'eyelash flutter.' My charisma check is high, but my patience is at a zero. Where are we? Did the orcs breach the gate?"
She was so focused on her "mid-raid" strategy, her tail twitching with nerdy adrenaline, that she didn't notice the trailer door wasn't shut all the way.
Outside, Wilford B. Wolf was whistling, carrying a bouquet of wilting daisies for their full-moon date.
He was early.
He reached out to knock, but the door creaked open under his hand.
He peeked inside, expecting to see the vision of loveliness he saw on screen.
Instead, he saw a girl in a baggy red sweater, hair like a dandelion, shouting about "mana points" and "critical hits."
"Uh... Minerva?" Wilford stammered, his glasses slipping down his snout. "Is... is the movie star in the bathroom?"
The sound of Wilford's voice hit Minerva like a bucket of ice water. Her ears poked through her frizzy hair, standing straight up.
"Uh... Minerva?" Wilford stammered from the doorway.
Minerva's eyes went wide behind her thick lenses.
"Abort! Abort the raid!" she hissed into her headset. "The wolf is in the hen house! Repeat, the wolf is in the—eep!"
In a blind panic, she didn't even try to act cool.
She performed a frantic, ungraceful scramble that would have horrified her director.
She lunged forward, her baggy red sweater catching on the arm of her chair, and dove headfirst into the cramped space under her vanity desk.
THUMP.
The trailer rocked on its suspension. Her frizzy tail was still sticking out from under the desk, twitching like a nervous caterpillar.
Wilford stepped inside, blinking in confusion. He looked at the discarded silver dress on the floor, then at the desk covered in twenty-sided dice and miniature dragons.
"Hello? Miss Mink? I... I brought daisies? They're mostly alive?"
From the dark shadows beneath the desk, Minerva squeezed her eyes shut, her glasses lopsided on her face.
'Maybe if I don't move, he'll think I'm a laundry pile', she thought desperately.
"You can come out," Wilford said, tilting his head as he spotted a stray D20 die rolling toward his foot.
He picked it up, his eyes widening as he recognized the high-quality resin.
"Say... is this a limited edition 'Dragon-Slayer' d-sixteen? I thought these were only released at the convention in Burbank!"
Under the desk, Minerva's persona fought a losing battle with her inner geek.
She bit her lip, trying to stay silent, but her nerdy pride won out.
"It's a d-twenty, you amateur," she snapped from the darkness, her voice muffled by the desk's underside.
"And it's a custom pour with a nebula finish."
She froze.
Darn it.
Minerva buries her face in her hands.
'My career is over. I'll be demoted to 'Extras' on the Animaniacs set by Monday,' she thought to herself.
Wilford didn't scream. He didn't run away. Instead, there was a soft thud as the wilting daisies hit the floor, completely forgotten.
"A nebula finish?" Wilford's voice didn't sound confused—it sounded breathless.
He dropped to his knees, peering under the desk with his tail wagging so hard it was hitting the trailer walls like a drumbeat.
"You mean... the one with the hand-painted constellations that glows under UV light? I've been on a waiting list for that set for three years!"
Minerva peeked out from behind a pair of heavy boots she had stored under the desk.
Her frizzy hair was even messier now, and her glasses were sitting dangerously low on her nose.
"Two years," she corrected instinctively. "And you have to know a guy who knows a guy in the manufacturing plant in Toontown."
Wilford's eyes were practically sparkling.
"Minerva... you're a Level 20 Dungeon Master? I thought you were just... you know... a vision of loveliness."
Minerva sighed, finally crawling out from under the desk.
She sat on the floor, hugging her knees and pulling the sleeves of her baggy red sweater over her hands.
"I'm a vision of exhaustion, Wilford," she grumbled, her voice dropping the sultry act entirely.
"Do you have any idea how hard it is to maintain that hair? I just want to sit in the dark, eat cheesy puffs, and roll for initiative without worrying about my mascara running."
She looked up at him, her eyes big behind her thick lenses. "Are you going to tell the studio? If the mink fans find out I'm a nerd, my brand is ruined."
Wilford looked at her—really looked at her—in her oversized sweater and frizzy glory. He let out a long, happy howl.
"Are you kidding? Minerva, I've never been more in love! Can I... can I see your character sheet?"
...
Just as Wilford was leaning in to inspect her character sheet, a loud, impatient RAP-RAP-RAP shook the trailer door.
"Minerva! Sweetie! Baby!" the Director's voice boomed from outside.
"Change of plans! The lighting was perfect, so we're doing a bonus close-up of the moonlight sigh scene. We need you on set in thirty seconds!"
Minerva's eyes went wide. "Oh no! The sweater! The frizz! Wilford, if he sees me like this, I'll be playing 'Old Lady #4' in a Huckleberry Hound reboot by tomorrow!"
"Don't worry, I've got you!" Wilford scrambled to his feet, his nerd-brain shifting into high-speed helper mode.
What followed was a blur of cartoon chaos.
Wilford grabbed the silk dress and held it open like a bullfighter's cape; Minerva dove into it, zipping it up with one hand while tossing her thick glasses into a bowl of cheesy puffs with the other.
"The hair!" she hissed. "It's too powerful! The frizz won't go down!"
Wilford grabbed a nearby bottle of industrial-strength toon-gloss.
He sprayed a massive cloud over her head, and with a quick, frantic smoothing motion, he flattened the dandelion-fuzz back into a shimmering golden wave.
He even gave her tail a quick 'poof' to restore its glamorous curl.
The door swung open just as Minerva struck a sultry pose against the vanity, her red sweater kicked hidden under the rug.
"Ready for my close-up, Mr. Director," she cooed, her voice dropping back into that effortless, velvety purr.
The Director blinked, looking at her, then at Wilford, who was sweating profusely and holding a half-eaten daisy. "Great! You look... sparkly. Let's go!"
...
Ten minutes later, the close-up was finished. Minerva marched back into the trailer, slammed the door, and locked it.
She stood there for a beat, then let out a long, loud groan.
With a violent shrug, she peeled off the silver dress, put the baggy red sweater back on, and jammed her specs onto her nose.
"Never. Again." she muttered.
Wilford was still sitting on the floor, holding her d20. He looked up at her nervously.
"So... I guess the date is ruined? Since I saw the... you know... the real you?"
Minerva looked at him—really looked at him—and saw the way he was holding her die with such reverence.
A slow, genuine smile spread across her face. She reached into a hidden cabinet and pulled out a second headset and a fresh bag of cheesy puffs.
"Ruined? Wilford, you're the only person on this lot who knows the difference between a d-sixteen and a nebula finish."
She sat down next to him, her frizzy tail wagging just a little bit. "Now, put these on. My party needs a tank, and you look like you have high constitution stats."
Wilford's howl was quiet this time—a happy, nerdy little yip.
...
As the full moon rose over the Warner Bros. water tower, there was no moonlight sighing or dramatic romance.
Instead, inside a small trailer, there were two nerds, a pile of snacks, and the sound of dice clattering against a table late into the night.
Summary: All Copia wanted was a clean game, a cold soda, and to look incredibly intimidating in his knee-high socks.
Instead, he's inherited the captaincy of the most incompetent sports team in baseball history.
Ao3 version
Enjoy!
The afternoon sun beat down on the diamond, reflecting perfectly off the crisp, pristine pinstripes of Copia's uniform.
He stood just outside the dugout, leading a tight huddle that consisted of Secondo, Terzo, Nihil, Perpetua, and Plushia.
Copia adjusted his cap with a sharp, dramatic flick of his wrist.
On the other side of the field, the opposing team was already stretched out and looking dangerously professional, but Copia wasn't deterred.
He looked magnificent.
His knee-high socks were pulled up to perfection, his gloves were strapped tight, and he was ready for glory.
He leaned into the huddle, dropping his voice into a confidential, high-energy whisper that was pure team captain.
"Alright, listen up, ragazzi," Copia said, pointing a finger dramatically at each of them.
"This is it. The big diamond. The field of dreams. We have the uniforms, we have the stamina, and most importantly, we have me. I need clean runs, sharp catches, and absolutely no distractions. Do we understand each other?"
The huddle nodded in unison.
Copia smirked. "Excellent. Now let's get out there and show these bastards who is fucking boss!"
Suddenly, the dusty baseball diamond vanished.
The entire background transformed into a vibrant, pastel purple expanse covered in floating, sparkly black roses.
A chibi version of Perpetua appeared—incredibly cute, adorable, and practically bouncing with bubbly, enthusiastic energy.
With oversized eyes and a tiny, floating rulebook in his hands, he happily chimed in, "But brother! It's not about who wins or loses. It's about having fun and learning the spirit of the game!"
Right on cue, a chibi Nihil popped into the frame, happy tears twinkling in his cute eyes as he threw an arm over his son, pulling him close.
"Exactly right, my boy! A father and his son, sharing the great American pastime on the field together. It's beautiful!"
Pop!
The sparkly roses shattered, and the normal background rushed back into place.
Copia stood completely frozen, utterly stunned by the sheer amount of wholesome, unhelpful energy that had just blasted into the huddle.
His eyes had literally transformed into shocked, blank white disks with thick black lines comically vibrating around the edges.
For a solid three seconds, he didn't breathe.
Then, Copia vigorously shook his head from side to side with a cartoonish rattling sound, snapping his eyes back to their normal, mismatched state.
"Uh? Oh. Yes. Sure, sure," Copia stammered, clearing his throat.
"Yeah, yeah, 'having fun.' Very nice, very wholesome. We will do a lot of... of that... right after we utterly crush the other team into the dirt. Fun is for the winners!"
Before anyone could argue the philosophy of sportsmanship, Copia turned on his heel, grabbing a sleek black bat from the rack.
He strutted toward the home plate, settling into the batter's box with an over-the-top, theatrical swagger.
He tapped the bat against his cleats, held it high over his shoulder, and locked his eyes on the pitcher, determined to set a flawless example for his utterly hopeless team.
The pitcher wound up and let fly a screaming fastball right down the center of the plate.
Copia didn't hesitate.
With a perfectly timed, over-the-top theatrical swing, he brought the bat around.
CRACK!
The sound echoed across the entire stadium as the ball soared high, high into the afternoon sky, clearing the outfield wall by a mile.
A home run!
The scattered crowd erupted into cheers, and Copia practically floated down the baseline.
He ran the bases with an immense, unshakeable pride—tipping his cap to the empty sections, blowing imaginary kisses, and stepping squarely on every single base without the other team even coming close to throwing him out.
He slid elegantly into home plate, even though he didn't need to, just to kick up a dramatic cloud of dust.
Rising to his feet, he brushed off his pristine pinstripes and pointed a thumb back at himself, looking at his dugout with a smug, triumphant grin.
"And that," Copia announced loudly, crossing his arms, "is exactly how it is done! Top tier athletic prowess!"
Meanwhile, high up in the nosebleed section of the stands, Primo sat in the shade, watching the spectacle with a look of profound disapproval.
Perched comfortably on his shoulder was Mercy, his black pet crow, who let out a cynical croak.
Right next to him was Plushie Primo, who was holding a pair of opera glasses to his stubby face to get a better look at the field.
Primo crossed his arms, looking down at his "successors" with absolute disdain.
"Look at them down there," he muttered, shaking his head.
"Running around in dirt, chasing a leather sphere like common street urchins. They all look completely ridiculous. Foolish, the lot of them."
Plushie Primo, lowering his opera glasses, handed them up to Primo, who took them as he looked down at the Ministry's dugout as the next batter stepped out onto the field.
The moment the figure came into view, Primo's face contorted into a grimace of pure annoyance and utter disgust.
He let out a loud groan.
Meanwhile, in a mid-level seating section closer to the action, Lucy was leaning over the railing with an eager smile.
She was radiant in her usual look: a pink off-the-shoulder top, heart-shaped sunglasses with matching earrings, and a bright pink bow securing her adorable mouse-ear buns.
Tucked safely under her arm was Weenie, Terzo's brown dachshund, whose little nose was twitching as she scanned the stadium.
"Do you see him, Weenie?" Lucy asked, her eyes darting across the baseline as she looked for a familiar face.
Weenie perked her floppy ears up, squinting down at the diamond.
Suddenly, her tail began to wag like a propeller. She let out a sharp, happy "ruff!" and pointed her snout directly toward the batter's box.
Lucy followed her gaze, her face lighting up. "There he is!"
Stepping into the box was Terzo.
He completely ignored Primo's distant, booming boos from the nosebleeds.
The pitcher threw a standard, easy ball.
Terzo took a swing (whoosh!), but missed the ball by a solid two feet.
"Strike one!" the umpire yelled.
Terzo scoffed, adjusting his uniform as if the ball was at fault.
The pitcher wound up and threw the second pitch.
Determined to make contact, Terzo lunged forward with an aggressive, dramatic swing, completely tangling his own feet in the process.
His cleats caught the dirt, his arms windmilled wildly, and with a comical THUD, he tripped and face-planted directly into the dust.
Lucy let out a worried gasp. "Terzo!" Without a second thought, she bolted from her seat and began rushing down the stadium stairs to check on him, with Weenie still securely tucked under her.
Primo witnessed the majestic face-plant and erupted into a fit of cruel, booming laughter. "Ha! Look at him! A total disgrace to the lineage!" Mercy let out a synchronized, mocking "Caw! Caw!"
Primo shook his head, instantly bored now that his favorite target had humiliated himself. "Well, I've seen quite enough of this circus," he said to the bird on his shoulder as he stood up.
He started heading toward the exit, leaving the field behind.
Meanwhile, Plushie Primo was still sitting in his seat, eyes utterly glued to the game.
A few seconds passed as Primo returned to the row.
He stood over the tiny plush, crossing his arms and throwing down a stern look that said: we are leaving right now.
Plushie Primo slowly lowered the opera glasses.
He turned his head and stared up at big Primo.
Dead silence passed between the two.
The wind blew. A cricket chirped. The plush didn't move a muscle.
Sighing with irritation, Primo snatched the plushie.
"Come on," Primo grumbled, turning around and finally walking out of the stadium for good. "I have actual work to do as well as a garden to get back to."
...
Lucy sprinted down the remaining stadium stairs, bursting through the gate and rushing straight toward home plate.
She dropped to her knees beside Terzo, heedless of the dirt and dust.
Lucy set Weenie down, and the little dachshund immediately began sniffing Terzo with a worried whimper.
"Terzo! Oh my goodness, are you okay?" Lucy asked softly, her voice filled with sweet concern as she gently took his hands to help him sit up.
Terzo groggily shook the dust from his hair, blinking up at her.
The moment his eyes focused on Lucy, his dazed expression completely melted into a sweet, swooning smile.
"I am now, amore," Terzo told her, his voice smooth and entirely unfazed by the fact that he was currently sitting in a pile of dirt.
He gave her hands a tender squeeze. "A fall is nothing compared to the joy of seeing you rush to my rescue. Truly, my heart is healed."
The chaotic noise of the stadium completely faded into the background.
A shower of sparkles and tiny pink hearts materialized out of thin air around them.
Lucy and Terzo stared deeply into each other's eyes, adorable pastel-pink flush marks appearing on both of their cheeks as they shared a blissful, smiling moment.
Behind them on the mound, the pitcher raised an eyebrow, completely bewildered by the sudden romance novel unfolding at home plate.
Shrugging, the pitcher wound up and casually tossed the ball right down the middle.
The ball landed squarely in the catcher's mitt.
Neither Terzo nor Lucy even blinked. They were still completely locked in their own sparkly, lovesick world.
"Strike three! You're out!" the umpire bellowed.
Copia's jaw literally unhinged, dropping so low it practically hit the dugout floor with a cartoonish clack.
His eyes turned back into those blank white disks as he stared at his teammate getting eliminated without even looking at the ball.
With a heavy, miserable groan, Copia brought his gloved hand up and facepalmed.
Lucy gently clasped Terzo’s hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze as she began guiding him toward the stadium gate.
Weenie trotted happily right behind them, her little tail wagging at the prospect of a walk.
"Come on," Lucy said with a warm, caring smile. "Let's head back to my place so we can get you properly cleaned up. I'll even help you reapply your face paint."
Terzo's eyes widened slightly, a small pout forming on his lips. "But amore—"
"No buts," Lucy interrupted gently, offering a playful shake of her head.
"This game clearly wasn't made for a man of your... artistic talents. We'll just watch the rest of it together on the couch once you're fresh and clean."
She then leaned in just a little closer, her voice shifting into a lighthearted, cute, and flirty tone. "Besides, you know... you actually looked pretty hot out there before the tumble."
Terzo instantly melted.
A genuine, bright blush flared across his cheeks beneath his dust-smudged makeup.
He let out a soft, pleased chuckle, completely charmed, and reached up with his free hand to rub the back of his neck in a rare, genuinely shy gesture. "Ah, dio mio... you think so?"
"Hey! Hey! Where the hell do you think you are going?!" Copia yelled. "You cannot just leave mid-game! We are down a batter! Hey! Terzo!"
Terzo didn't even bother looking back as Lucy led him through the gate.
Copia let out a long, agonizing groan that sounded like a deflating balloon.
He slapped his gloved hand right back over his eyes—only this time, he didn't pull it away.
He slowly dragged his hand all the way down his face, stretching his skin comically in pure, unadulterated annoyance.
"I am surrounded by amateurs," Copia muttered to himself.
...
The next few innings flew by in a rapid, chaotic montage of pure athletic disaster.
Each clip felt like a frantic snippet from a cartoon as Copia's blood pressure ticked steadily upward.
Crack! The opposing team's star batter connected with a vicious pitch, sending the baseball rocketing high into the deep left field.
Back on the pitcher's mound, Copia's eyes widened in sheer panic.
He whirled around, pointing a frantic, gloved finger toward the outfield.
"Secondo! Catch it! It's coming right to—"
Copia froze.
His eyes darted across the empty grass, scanning the left field line. Secondo was nowhere to be found.
Frantic, Copia's gaze whipped toward the sidelines, his eyes bulging as he finally spotted the second papa.
Secondo was leaning casually against the stadium wall near the lower stands.
He was currently using a sharpie to sign a baseball for the stadium's mascot—who had her oversized fuzzy costume head tucked under her arm, revealing herself to be a very attractive woman.
With a smooth, practiced flourish, Secondo handed the signed ball back to her, offering a sharp, theatrical wink that made her giggle.
Back on the mound, Copia's face went entirely red.
His teeth ground together so hard they made an audible clicking sound.
He cupped his hands around his mouth, his composure shattering as he screamed across the diamond at the top of his lungs.
"Hey! Get your keister back on the fucking field!"
Secondo slowly turned his head, looking over his shoulder at the screaming captain.
"Huh? Oh, sure, sure. In a second, Cardinal," Secondo drawled dismissively, his voice dripping with his usual deadpan, unbothered tone.
The sheer, ultimate disrespect of his past title sent Copia over the edge.
"Cardinal?!" Copia shrieked, his voice cracking. "I am Frater! I am the Team Captain! You call me—"
Suddenly, realization hit him that the ball was still descending.
Looking over, he saw Perpetua and Nihil both scrambling toward the dropping shadow, their gloves raised in absolute, starry-eyed excitement.
"I got it!" Perpetua shouted optimistically.
"No, no, I got it, my boy!" Nihil yelled back, completely locked into the father-son bonding moment.
They both ran full speed toward the exact same spot, completely ignoring each other until—GONK!
They both fell backward into the grass, rubbing their heads.
Instead of being upset, they looked at each other and broke out into wholehearted, booming laughter, completely delighted by the mishap.
THUD.
The baseball plummeted back to earth, landing with a heavy, dusty bounce right beside them.
Copia stood on the mound, his eye twitching violently as he growled in pure annoyance at the display.
But before he could even open his mouth to yell at them, a loud, definitive buzz rang out across the stadium scoreboard.
Copia blinked, slowly turning back around toward home plate. The scoreboard flashed the final, devastating score.
The game was over.
They had officially lost.
Instantly, the opposing team erupted into a massive, raucous victory celebration.
Bright, colorful confetti rained down from the stadium rafters out of nowhere.
The players rushed the field, gathering around the star batter who had secured their win—who was revealed to be none other than Plushie Nihil, who was indeed sentient.
The opposing team lifted tiny Nihil high into the air, tossing him up and down in a triumphant victory toss while the little plush doll held his stubby arms out in glory.
Back on the pitcher's mound, Copia went completely rigid.
Color drained from his face as he stuck in a frozen state of absolute, vegetative shock.
His arms hung limply at his sides, his mouth hung slightly open, and a single, dramatic gust of wind blew a stray hotdog wrapper right past his knee-high socks.
He had lost, defeated by a plush toy.
...
Copia remained stuck in his frozen state of ultimate defeat, a stiff, pinstriped statue of pure disbelief.
Suddenly, the aggressive, high-pitched hum of an electric motor shattered the victory music.
From out of nowhere, a bright bullpen cart came tearing across the infield dirt at a completely unsafe speed.
BAM!
The cart collided squarely with Copia, hitting him with full cartoon force.
The impact literally spiked him straight down into the diamond like a giant lawn dart, burying his entire body into the ground until only his head was left poking out above the dirt, his cap sitting comically askew on his messy hair.
The occupants of the cart, however, didn't even tap the brakes.
Sitting behind the wheel was Plushie Nihil, his stubby fabric arms steering the cart with reckless abandon.
Right next to him in the passenger seat was the real, full-sized Nihil, comfortably cradling his shiny gold saxophone in his lap.
Riding in the back of the cart was Perpetua, proudly holding a massive, gleaming brass tuba.
As Plushie Nihil drove directly over the spot where Copia had been standing, neither Nihil nor Perpetua paid a single shred of attention.
They were completely oblivious to the fact that they had just turned their team captain into an infield marker.
Nihil turned around in his seat, beaming warmly at his son. "I must say, son, I am quite excited to go fishing with you! And once we catch our prize, I simply cannot wait to hear you play that tuba alongside me while I jam out on the sax."
Perpetua looked up, his face lighting up with that same bright, relentless optimism as he focused entirely on his dad.
He gave the heavy tuba a joyful squeeze. "I am so excited too, Daddy! I can't wait for our Father-Son Day to officially begin!"
Plushie Nihil hit the gas, veering sharply off the field and toward the stadium exit, leaving a thick cloud of dust in their wake.
Down in the dirt, Copia slowly blinked his mismatched eyes, spitting a small clump of infield clay out of his mouth.
He couldn't move a single limb, completely stuck in the earth as the celebratory confetti drifted down around his head.
"I hate baseball," he whimpered to the empty sky.
...
Copia suddenly notices a small shadow.
He blinked, shifting his gaze.
Standing just inches away from his head was Plushia.
The little plush doll stood perfectly still, his blank, stitched eyes staring at his captain with an unreadable expression.
A small spark of hope ignited in Copia's chest.
For all the incompetence he had suffered today, surely his loyal little plush companion was here to save him.
"Ah, Plushia...," Copia mumbled, a strained, grateful smile cracking through his face paint.
"Amico mio... thank goodness. Can you do me a small favor and... I don't know, find a shovel? Help me out of this dirt?"
Plushia hopped backward into a sturdy stance and thrusted one of his stubby, fabric hands forward, curled into a tight little sphere.
He had thrown a rock.
He wanted to play Rock, Paper, Scissors.
Copia blinked, staring at the little plush hand. A slow, mischievous, and deeply competitive smirk began to spread across his face.
"Oh..." Copia chuckled, his eyes narrowing with a sudden surge of renewed confidence. "Oh, I see. You want to play Rock, Paper, Scissors, huh?"
Finally! A sport that didn't require running, hitting, or relying on his utterly useless family. A game of pure wits and strategy. A game he could actually win.
Grunting loudly, Copia strained every muscle in his upper body.
With a dramatic pop, he managed to violently tug his right hand free from the tight infield dirt, shaking the loose clay from his glove.
He raised his hand, locking eyes with the plush.
"Alright, Plushia," Copia declared, his voice full of over-the-top, dramatic intensity. "Let's do this. No mercy!"
They both began to pump their hands in perfect, rhythmic sync.
Rock... Paper... Scissors... SHOOT!
With a triumphant flourish, Copia flattened his hand entirely, laying it out flat in the air. Paper!
He quickly looked down at Plushia. Rock!
Copia's face lit up with absolute, euphoric glee.
He threw his head back, letting out a loud, boastful laugh that echoed across the empty stadium.
"Ha! Paper beats rock! I win! I finally win!"
Plushia stared at Copia's celebrating face for a fraction of a second.
Then, without a single sound, the little plush casually uncurled two of his fabric fingers, forming a perfect, undeniable 'V' shape right over Copia's paper.
He had changed his mind. He threw scissors.
Copia's laughter instantly died in his throat.
"Noooooo!" he shrieked, his voice echoing in a long, agonizing, theatrical cartoon wail toward the sky.
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