🎃she/her | 31 🖤Unholy daydreamer with a soft spot for Papa Terzo 🧡Living for spooky vibes, sacred smut, and loud guitars 🍬This blog is 90% Ghost, 10% Halloween candy
Welcome, sinners. I’m ghuleshbabe, your local clergy enthusiast, papal simp, writer of sacrilegious nonsense and overall fangirl 🔮
A03 Masterlist
This is a place where I:
• Write sinful little stories about the Papas (especially Terzo 😏)
• Post and reblog unholy thirsts and headcanons
• Occasionally scream into the void about lore, mitres, and ghouls
• Prioritize vibes over canon
• Reblog incessantly
Expect:
• Elaborate ceremonial smut, but make it poetic
• Soft moments between rituals
• Unholy tenderness in the shadow of the mitre
• A deep, undying obsession with velvet robes and the power behind them
• Reader-insert fanfiction
• Soft chaos + unhinged fluff
• Spooky vibes and occasional brainrot
Terzo lives in my head, dances in my dreams, and occasionally whispers filthy ideas into my drafts. If you’re here, you probably understand. Or you will soon.
I also dabble in other Papas, but let’s be honest:
This blog is 90% Terzo thirst and 10% pretending I’m above it.
I take requests, reblog things I find feral, and frequently descend into Papal madness. My inbox is open to your weirdest ideas and deepest Ghost delusions.
Join the congregation. We have wine, sin, and a very dramatic Anti-Pope who kisses like he means it. 💋
📬 The Unholy Request Box
Speak now or forever thirst in silence.
Got a craving for some ritual romance? Want to see Papa Terzo emotionally devastated and kissed on the forehead? Drop your offerings here.
⸻
🔥 What You Can Request:
• Reader-insert fics (fluff, smut, chaos)
• Headcanons & blurbs
• Papal thirsts
• Lore-lite nonsense or canon-adjacent drama
• Terzo being insufferably charming or utterly wrecked
• Moments that make you cry and then blush (in that order)
⸻
🚫 What I Don’t Write:
• Noncon/dubcon
• Minor/adult content
• Real person fiction (Tobias or crew)
• Incest or anything with bad vibes
• Extreme gore
⸻
🕯️ Before You Send:
• Be clear and spicy if you want spicy. 🌶️
• Tell me what Papa you want!
• Don’t be shy. Be deranged BUT polite.
⸻
This box is always open—drop your dirtiest, softest, or weirdest desires. Terzo’s waiting. Probably shirtless. Definitely smug about it.
Hello, long time no see, eh? 😅
I’ve been away from the fandom for a bit, but I just wanted to share with you the two artworks I created for the Meliorazine projects that will hopefully come to light soon.
This first one is based on the song “Spirit,” of course, and it will be accompanied by a brief text explaining its backstory. Both pieces revisit the 1920–30s poster style.
Hope you are all alright and enjoy this contribution 🌹
Which will be the second song? 👀
𖤐 you help secondo relax after a day full of meetings and rituals
warnings: smut, smoking.
secondo leaned back against the couch as he took a long drag from his cigar and slowly exhaled the smoke from his mouth.
"everything okay?" you asked as you slowly sauntered towards him with a seductive sway of your hips, smirking as you straddled his legs.
"nothing i can't handle," secondo lifted his head and met your gaze, his mismatched eyes gleaming with lust as he slid his free hand around your waist, squeezing your hip firmly.
"oh, i know, papa. but maybe you need to... relax a little?" you quirked an eyebrow as you slowly slid your hands down his chest. "i can help you with that."
"can you now?" secondo smirked and took a fistful of your hair, holding your head in a firm grip as he took another drag of his cigar and pressed his lips against yours. closing your eyes, you opened your mouth as secondo opened his, your lips dancing together in a kiss as the smoke filled your mouth. you moaned into the kiss, rutting against the growing bulge in his pants.
"papa, please...," you whispered against his lips, gasped when he yanked your hair, pulling you away from his lips.
"i love it when you beg, little dove," he smirked and put out his cigar on the ashtray standing on the side table. he looked back at you, his mouth on yours in an instant. you moaned against his lips, pulling your dress up over your hips when you felt him opening his pants. moving your panties aside, you lowered yourself onto him, both of you moaning as his cock filled you up. you pressed your forehead against his and held his gaze as you started riding him at a slow and steady pace.
secondo groaned and grabbed your waist, taking control as he started thrusting up into you, driving his cock faster and deeper inside you.
"papa!" you cried out through the pounding, his cock hitting that sweet spot inside you over and over again. you threw your head back and sunk your nails into his shoulders as he brought you closer and closer to climax.
secondo moaned from the pain of your nails that drew blood on his skin but it only spurred him on, bringing him to a swift orgasm.
you heard secondo's groan low in his throat before you felt the warmth of his release flood against your walls. waves of pleasure washed over you and you moaned his name as his cock pulsed inside you, his hands holding your hips tightly through each shockwave.
"how is it that you always know exactly what i need, hmh?" he mumbled softly as his half-lidded eyes looked up at you.
you giggled softly and laid down on his chest. "because i love you old man."
Ghestie, this is so devastatingly cute I cannot stand it 🥹😭 You’re art is gorgeous 🖤 Thank you for having my back against the nasty miserable people 🥺🖤
Also…the sleeveless undershirt TOOK ME OUT 🤤 but then I noticed the “Ghildo Prototype” box 😂 I love it all so much 😭
Fic request: Terzo spends the night at Female Reader's house (he enjoys sleeping over at her place, she likes doing the same at his) and has brought a small overnight bag AND WEENIE.
Anyway, later on, as he and reader are doing the do / steaming up her bedroom, Weenie has a little adventure that lasts the entire night (I wanted the adventure scene to be told a bit from her pov).
The next morning, when Terzo and Reader wake up, they see Weenie sleeping on the couch and find it to be the cutest thing ever.
Ohhhh I love the idea of Terzo having this little dog he is attached to 🥹 I guarantee she has all the ✨ Sass✨
For context: Weenie is basically an original character made up by @enchantedchocolatebars based upon the pictures of Papa III cradling a sweet little dachshund doggy.
Check out her fic Weiner Takes it all for an extremely cute Dachshund race and Terzo as a doggy dad
I originally wrote Weenie’s characterization on a romantic fall walk with Terzo in Paws and Effect 🍂
I also wrote her in a very cute Halloween trick or treating/Bela Lugosi trivia fic with Terzo in For The Love of Bela 🧛♂️
None of this has to be read first or in any order to enjoy this fic, it just explains the characterization in fun ways 🖤
By Moonlight and Milkbones
Terzo brings his dog Weenie along for an overnight stay at your house, expecting nothing more than a cozy evening together. While the two of you are blissfully occupied behind closed doors, Weenie decides someone has to protect the neighborhood. What follows is one tiny dog’s very important moonlit adventure—complete with new friends, neighborhood patrols, a trove of treasures and a warm homecoming 🦴🎾
A03
Coupling: Papa Emeritus III x Female! Reader
Word count: 1790
The moment the front door opens, Weenie launches herself forward with all the enthusiasm of a creature who could never fathom the possibility that someone might not be thrilled to see her.
“There she is!” You laugh as the little dog scrambles up and into your arms.
Terzo follows behind her carrying an overnight bag over one shoulder, looking entirely pleased with himself.
“Excuse me,” he says pressing a hand dramatically to his chest. “I came all this way and she received the greeting first?”
You roll your eyes.
“You’re a grown man.” You tease with a grin.
“I am a very handsome grown man.” He wiggles his eyebrows at you playfully. You laugh.
“And she’s Weenie.” You gesture toward her theatrically. As if to prove your point, Weenie licks the tip of your nose.
Terzo sighs heavily.
“I never stood a chance.”
The little dog wags her tail harder. Victory.
She has missed you. She likes your house very much. She likes when Papa stays here. This is clearly a sleepover. She loves sleepovers. She likes when everyone stays in the same place so she can keep track of her humans. Everyone together. Everyone safe. Everyone where they belong. Simple. Perfect.
You take Terzo’s overnight bag while he gently kicks the door shut behind him.
“Long drive?”
“Terrible.” He says.
“Liar.”
“Fine. It was acceptable.”
You laugh. Terzo smiles at the sound. Then you smile back. Then the smiling continues for an uncomfortable amount of time. Weenie sits between the two of you…waiting. And waiting. And then waiting some more. Neither human seems interested in discussing anything important.
The evening passes as is expected:
•Dinner
•Treats
•cuddles
The humans are laughing. Her humans. Her Papa. Her favorite human. Everything is right as it should be. Until it isn’t. Eventually humans always become strange.
You and Terzo sit on the couch, his arm around your waist as you talk about everything and nothing simultaneously. Weenie is curled up nearby, half asleep, when she opens one eye. Something has changed.
Papa is looking at favorite human differently. Favorite human is smiling differently. The air has become suspiciously full of affection. Weenie sighs. Humans are such strange creatures.
Terzo gently kisses your forehead. Then your lips.
You immediately melt.
Pathetic.
Weenie sneezes.
No one pays attention.
A grave injustice.
Terzo starts towards the bedroom, beckoning you with a crook in his finger and a come hither motion.
“Come here.” He smirks.
That’s all it takes for you to disappear down the hallway together.
Weenie follows. Obviously. She is part of this operation.
The bedroom door closes. Directly in her face. Weenie stares.
The door stares back.
She waits. Surely this must be a mistake.
A minute passes.
Nothing.
Two minutes.
Nothing.
A muffled delighted laugh drifts through the wood. The humans appear to be occupied. They sound happy. Good. But also…
They had forgotten something.
Her.
The guardian.
The protector.
The most important member of the household.
Very well.
If they insist on abandoning their responsibilities, Weenie will just have to take charge of the evening herself.
With a determined huff, she trots away. Someone has to patrol the premises still. Clearly, that someone is her.
The humans have made their choice. They chose the bedroom and closed doors.
They have chosen to leave the protection in the paws of a small but highly capable guardian. Weenie accepts this responsibility. Someone has to.
She begins her patrol. First, the living room.
Clear.
The couch? Comfortable.
The blanket. Acceptable.
Papa’s overnight bag? Still suspicious.
She approaches it again. Perhaps she missed something earlier. A thorough investigation is necessary.
Weenie approaches carefully.
She sniffs one side. Then the other. Then the zipper.
After several moments of careful examination, Weenie reveals several important discoveries:
One shirt.
A small expensive bottle of liquid that smells terrible.
A crumpled receipt.
Then perhaps the most important discovery:
A sock.
Papa’s sock.
She stares at it.
This is valuable. Extremely valuable. It smells like Papa. It belongs to Papa. Therefore, it belongs somewhere safe.
With great determination weenie grabs the sock and begins the journey. The sock is long and determined to fight. Weenie is more determined.
After several attempts, one dramatic pause, and a very impressive amount of pulling, she successfully deposits her treasure onto the couch. Perfect. Papa will be proud.
She continues her patrol.
The house is quiet. Too quiet.
Then she sees it.
The door.
The magical small door that leads to the outside. Just her size.
Weenie has been through it several times before.
Outside is where the adventures happen.
Where squirrels live.
Where all the smells are.
And tonight…something is new.
The yard is full of stars. Not sky stars. Ground stars. Moving stars.
Upon further inspection, she can see they are tiny glowing creatures floating through the air. Weenie freezes.
The light of the creature blinks.
Weenie blinks her eyes.
It moves. Then she moves.
A very serious investigation begins.
The glowing creature is strange. It does not smell dangerous. It does not bark or run away. It simply floats. Clearly it is either very brave…or very foolish.
Weenie decides to keep watch. She steps outside, the warm nighttime air surrounding her. The grass is cool beneath her paws. She notices nighttime smells different. The world smells different after dark. There are secrets everywhere.
A flower that has opened.
A bird that has gone to sleep.
A rabbit that had crossed the yard hours earlier.
Evidence. All of it.
Weenie has work to do.
She follows the path of mysterious smells and important discoveries.
First comes a fence. A normal fence during the day, a suspicious fence at night. She sniffs it carefully.
Nothing. Acceptable.
Then came the tree. The tree is home to something. Something that had made noise earlier. Weenie looks upward. A squirrel stares down at her. A silent body language conversation ensues between them.
“I see you.” says Weenie’s stature.
The squirrel flicks its tail. Its composure says:
“I have seen many things.”
Weenie considers all of this. The squirrel is strange, but perhaps useful. An alliance could be formed.
She continues her journey.
The neighborhood is awake in small ways.
A porch light glows.
A television plays softly behind a window.
Someone laughs somewhere far in the distance.
Everything is different at night. Everything is important. Everything needs inspecting.
Weenie is almost completed with her inspection, and then…a scent drifts toward her on the warm nighttime breeze.
Weenie stops. Food. Interesting.
She follows it with purpose and dedication.
Two houses down, someone is sat on their front porch beneath a string of warm white lights, a paper plate balancing in their lap. Soft music drifts from a little speaker beside their rocking chair.
The woman looks up as tiny paws click along the sidewalk.
“Well hi there!”
Weenie stops. Tail wagging in recognition. This is the nice lady.
The nice lady always bent down to scratch behind her ears whenever she and favorite human have walked by previously.
The nice lady laughs.
“I know you!”
Of course she does. Weenie is unforgettable.
“What are you doing out so late sweetheart?”
Weenie blinks. Working. Obviously.
The nice lady reaches into a small tin beside her chair.
“I’ve got one milk bone left!”
Weenie sits down immediately. Professionalism matters.
“Oh! So polite!” The woman laughs.
The biscuit is accepted with the dignity it deserves.
As Weenie crunches happily, another porch light flickers on across the street.
“Marjorie?” An approaching voice calls out. “You’ve got Terzo’s little dog!”
“I do!”
Another neighbor wanders over.
“Oh my goodness- it’s Weenie!”
Her tail somehow wags even faster. These people know her. Excellent. Her reputation continues to grow.
“Where’s your Papa tonight?” The second neighbor asks, rubbing beneath her chin.
Weenie considers this. Papa is…
Busy.
Humans became very strange during sleepovers.
The neighbors exchange amused smiles.
“I bet he’s over at his partner’s house.”
“I’d say so.”
“Should we call someone?”
They all look down at the tiny dog.
Weenie looks back up with complete confidence.
Nothing about her suggests she is distressed or lost. If anything, she looks as though she has appointed herself neighborhood security.
“I think she is just making her rounds.” Marjorie chuckles.
“I think you’re right.” The second neighbor agrees.
“I have just the thing!” The first neighbor smiles while pulling out a gold sparkly ribbon from their pocket. Gently, they tie a perfect bow around Weenie’s collar.
“There! Our own official neighborhood watch dog!”
Weenie wags her tail happily and sits proudly, chest puffed out. The second neighbor approaches Weenie and bends down, producing a brand new Tennis ball from behind their back.
“Here ya go Weenie! A treat for all your hard work!”
Weenie gently takes the ball into her mouth and stands up, tail wagging excitedly.
The neighbors watch as Weenie proudly trots away, biscuit finished, tail held high.
“Goodnight officer Weenie!” One of them calls.
Weenie doesn’t know what an officer is, but it sounds important. She accepts the promotion.
Now that the neighborhood is deemed safe enough, Weenie proudly carries home all of her treasures.
Once back inside, she begins arranging them around herself on the couch and decorative pillows. Slowly, the tired puppy curls up cozily, tucking Papa’s sock beneath her chin. Barely any time passes at all before Weenie is softly snoring on a bed of her own making.
The next morning, Terzo wanders into the living room, hair adorably disheveled, expecting an enthusiastic greeting from his faithful companion.
Instead, he freezes.
“Tesoro…” he whispers.
You step beside him. Hair messy.
There is Weenie. Fast asleep. One ear lazily flopped over. Tiny paws twitching as she vividly dreams. Papa’s sock hugged tightly against her chest. A tennis ball beside her. A ribbon on her collar. A daisy entwined in her fur. Then a slightly crumpled sticky note, peeking out from beneath her back paw. Terzo picks it up and reads it quietly, and immediately starts laughing. Not loud enough to wake her, but still a genuine laugh that crinkles the corners of his eyes. You read it over his shoulder.
“Neighborhood patrol complete. She accepted one biscuit, supervised the block, and was the sweetest visitor we have had here all week. Please tell officer Weenie she is welcome any time. –
Marjorie.”
You look at Weenie. Terzo looks at Weenie. Neither of you have the heart to wake your tiny adventurer. Instead, Terzo crouches beside the couch, gently brushing a fingertip along her little head. Gently, he whispers with absolute conviction:
“Brava, mia piccola. The neighborhood was safe last night because of you.”
Somewhere in her dreams, Weenie’s tail gives one tiny sleepy thump of acknowledgement against the couch cushion.
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.
Ranking the Papas by who would be best to set up IKEA furniture with
Primo is the best at the objective task. While you're still puzzling over the instructions he's halfway done. You go to use the bathroom and when you return he's finished constructing, but not finished with you. You receive a lecture on the futility of earthly possessions, though if you collect macabre items he will show some approval. 10/10 efficiency, 4/10 vibes (6/10 vibes if you own some sort of skull and/or bones).
Secondo: another excellent candidate, though he will be holding items suggestively whenever possible. By the time the item is assembled you've heard enough dick jokes to last you through the winter. If it's furniture he's breaking it in immediately; if it's a shelf or something he will help you put your items away in a tasteful arrangement. 7/10 efficiency, 9/10 vibes (if you like dick jokes).
Terzo will mostly just sit and watch you assemble, but he always knows where you placed your allen wrench, or where the screw you need is. He is an Instructions Reader and while he won't physically assist, he is an excellent IKEA coach. This is because he's a native Swedish speaker, though he keeps this secret. He will also provide sexual innuendos, get you a snack upon request, and provide moral support and amusing anecdotes. 5/10 efficiency, 10/10 vibes.
Cardi is actually the best to set up IKEA furniture with, for the sole reason that he's been asked to help people move dozens of times. Your MÄLM bedframe? He's got you. The KALLAX shelves? He could put those together in his sleep. The KIVIK? Not only is it already assembled before you can blink, he's found the perfect spot for it to maximize the flow of the room. He brings pizza. 10/10 across the board.
Perpetua is the most useless of the Papas here. He chews the particle boards because he likes the way they feel against his teeth. He reads the instructions upside-down as a gag, then loses them when you look away. He snatches the allen wrench to incorporate it into one of his elaborate little outfits. He will sit cross-legged on the floor with you and offer you pieces of things that are five steps ahead. He's really cute, though, and can't help his rascally circus genes, so 1/10 efficiency, 8/10 vibes.
Nihil is not as terrible as you'd think here, but only because he's been around IKEA furniture for decades. When there's an inevitable part missing he knows how to whip up a suitable alternative or otherwise make it work. He brings fewer dick jokes than you'd expect and more edibles. He does get distracted critiquing your music collection though, and calls every gaming console you have an Atari. When you're done he beats you at Street Fighter, somehow. 5/10 efficiency, 7/10 vibes.
Perhaps, the time wasted sending me useless asks that in no way bother me and waste my time, would be better spent learning proper grammar and punctuation. 🤷🏻♀️
14. Is there an era you missed out on that you wish you could have been a part of?
Era 3 for 1000000000% 😭 I genuinely do not know if I could’ve survived Terzo but I damn well would have tried 🤤🫠😂
18. What headcanon will you defend at all costs?
That Papas 1-3 are really alive and peacefully retired somewhere far from the ministry…my baby Terzo widow heart will accept nothing less 🥹
20. Is there a part of canon that annoys you?
There isn’t really a part of canon that necessarily annoys me, because these are our dolls and we write them and play with them however we desire anyways 🥰 Really the only thing that truly annoys me in the fandom in general, is anyone who feels the need to police and harass fic writers over what they choose to write…all I have to say to those people is learn to use tags and ✨ grow up ✨ 🤗
