drraculina

[drraculina]

Terzo x F!Reader - comfort, fluff, piggybacks, soft soft soft. You come home after a long day, and your Papa is waiting with a stern look, and a firm back.

A Vow “Amore mio,” Terzo’s voice is stern, almost scolding the moment you walk in the door. The evening’s paper crumples in his hands and he sets it down on the dining room table. His hands land on his hips, the backs of them with his fingers pointed behind him, a move you had often seen in videos of his stage performances.

Today has been…hard. If you were being honest with yourself, everyday has been hard. If there was a reason for it, your mind couldn’t come up with any one specific thing, but did it matter? You feel bad. Your body wants to slump to the floor, and all you can think of is your bed and maybe a hit or two, but Terzo’s expression stops you in your tracks right inside the front door.

His heavy brow is pinched and he walks steadily toward you, one foot swinging in front of the other as if he were loping in slow motion. You wrack your mind for what else you could have done wrong today to make him look at you so, but your eyes widen in confusion as he abruptly turns and kneels down in front of you. Terzo glances over his shoulder, now patient and smiling.

“Your chariot awaits,” he purrs, the words falling over themselves in a sing-song quality mixed with his Italian accent.

“What are you doing?” You sound bewildered, your hands falling on his back as you peer down at him.

“I am taking you to bed. You look weary, amore. Let Papa help you, eh?”

“You want me to climb on your back?” The idea appeals to you greatly, and a small smile crosses your lips. The first all day. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Terzo chuckles in response, backing up until he bumps against you, making you take a step back. “Summers playing calcio as a boy did more for my thighs than you think. Among other, more stimulating cardio exercises.” His voice drops, and the suggestion behind it makes you blush. “I can lift you.”

You’re too excited to argue more. You want to be taken care of, and here was your Papa, literally kneeling in front of you, willing to do so. It felt nice to be loved like this. And you know Terzo does love you. It’s in his every look, and the way he looks at you now…he’s concerned.

You smile at him, and it lightens his face. You settle yourself over his back, and he stands up in one swift movement. You make a short squeal, trying to hang on and he adjusts his hold on you, making sure your thighs are tucked securely under his arms. He didn’t make a sound, although you’ve often heard him groaning or muttering when he drops a pencil or has to get down to the floor. Your Papa was an old man despite his attempts to hide it, but at this moment you could imagine him twenty years younger.

“Are you okay?” You ask him softly, your chin resting on his shoulder. Terzo turns his head against yours, his dark hair now interspersed with silver since he stopped dying it tickling your nose.

“You keep me strong, ragazza mia,” he murmurs. “Allow me to do the same for you.”

He carries you through your shared quarters, your life together reflected back at you from a new height. Pictures on the wall, your favorite blanket, which he remembers to pick up as you pass by, on the couch. Your cat slumbers peacefully on the carpet in front of the coffee table, and for the first time in days you feel your heart lightening.

He passes into the bedroom and gently deposits you on the bed. Terzo meticulously takes off both of your shoes, and then your socks. He takes his time to press his thumbs into your soles and you almost protest. You’ve been on your feet, they’re probably sweaty, but he doesn’t care. How could he? Love doesn’t mean shying away from the little things that make us human.

“Do you want to talk, amore?” He asks, his voice softened considerably. He watches you relax on the bed, and his features look anguished when you take in a shaky breath, trying everything you can to not cry.

“I don’t know,” you whisper, focusing on the way Terzo pulls your legs out of your pants, his gentle hands continuing their massage on your calves. “It’s hard to put it into words. And I don’t want you to think I’m unhappy with you.”

Terzo clicks his tongue and he lets go to climb into bed beside you. Pulling you around, he spoons you, his legs intertwined with yours, and his large hands firm on your belly. “I do not think that. I have been in the dark before, amore. You found me there many times. And it is not a thing easily explained, sì? It is a feeling greater than words with clawed hands that want to pull you down again and again.” His voice is a murmur, soothing against your ear. He kisses the back of your neck.

“I know this. But I am here. And I will never let the dark have you for long. But that does not mean that I can rush in and fight it, and everything will be okay. It is a slow journey, one that I vowed to go along with you. And I promise, we will make it out on the other side.”

Your tears do fall then. But they’re good. Cleansing. The kind that helps set you free. You turn in his arms and he gathers you close, pressing little kisses against your cheeks, forehead, and nose. He whispers to you, some in English, some Italian, but they all mean the same thing. He loves you. And you love him. And he’s right.

It may take a while, and you may have to fight really hard, but in Terzo’s arms you know it will be okay.

♡⸝⸝

Please consider donating to my ko-fi. I'm responsible for two other people, and after rent, I don't have any money for food until the 17th. I would love a McCrispy. Thank you so much.

[drraculina]

the sun is setting sooner and i’m dusting off old playlists

[drraculina]

Request to write a little snippet of Terzo comforting someone who’s a hot drunk mess?

Hello anon 💜 I'm so sorry for the wait. I know you asked for a snippet.... but... I started this and I kind of can't leave these two alone now. soo... sorry if this turns into a fully developed fic later ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

A Confession - Terzo x f!Reader 1300 words, drunk reader, comfort Terzo. div by @gothdaddyissues

Papa Secondo’s birthday party was the ministry event of the year, and this year was no exception. There was pyro, a champagne tower, and they turned the entire nave into a dance floor for fuck’s sake! It was an elaborate, Gatsby-esque affair that would be talked about around the abbey for months. If not until the next birthday party rolled around.

Not that you had seen any of it.

This time, you’d let yourself go a little too far. You were well and truly drunk two drinks ago—and you knew better, knew you’d be past your limit and better judgement. But you kept going because “fuck it, why not?” was basically the secondary theme for any of Secondo’s parties.  Before you knew it, you were lost in that blissful feeling of feeling nothing save for a buzz on your skin and the warm wave of contentedness that radiated out from your stomach.

That euphoric feeling was short-lived—quickly replaced by the need to sit down and close your eyes for a second. And maybe eat something. Or maybe never eat again.

That was how you found yourself on all fours under a random toilet, praying to every devil you’d heard of that things would just stop spinning. You had no memory of walking to a bathroom, no memory of sinking to the floor or letting the little hexagonal tiles bite into the skin of your knees. Even if you had remembered, things were too blurry to recognize exactly where you’d ended up.

At least it was clean.

Your friends were probably looking for you, if they’d even noticed you were gone. Or maybe they hadn’t. Maybe they were having a good time without you, laughing and dancing and maybe— Awful thoughts began to cloud your mind, a cruel, little voice pulling all your fears and insecurities to the choppy surface of your alcohol-soaked brain. Your stomach burned. Your eyes burned. And your mouth did that terrible tingly-watery thing, and you could feel each of your teeth.

Fuck.

“Oh! Uh, hello Sorella.”

You lost your balance as you spun around, landing your ass on the cold floor with your skirt around your hips. Looking up through teary eyes—when did you start crying? –you found a very confused and concerned Papa Terzo Emeritus standing in the doorway. He cocked his head, a gloved hand still over his heart from the shock of finding you.

Fuck, he was so fucking beautiful.

“Um, hi Papa,” you mumbled pathetically, desperate to gather the coordination to pull your skirt back down.

“Is everything—who did this to you?”

“Huh?”

He knelt beside you and placed a hand under your chin, urging you to look at him. “Which idiota has made you cry?”

“Oh, um…” You shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, trying to organize your thoughts. You didn’t remember crying—couldn’t remember if someone else had started it. If the world could just stop maybe you could concentrate. Maybe if it wasn’t stupid, perfect, beautiful Terzo asking you could think. “No one, well, I mean…I guess I did, but it’s not—I just—I’m drunk. Too drunk. I’m so sorry, Papa.”

“What do you have to be sorry about, stellina mia? Indulgence is kind of what we do, is it not?”

“Well, s-sure,” you hiccupped. “But this isn’t. This is…embarrassing.”

“Ah, well,” he began, shrugging his shoulders. “You’re in my private bathroom. Do you think I haven’t gotten drunk and cried in here? It’s happened at least twice. Maybe three times even.”

You giggled hard until your stomach began to turn. “Don’t make me laugh,” you whined before realizing who you were still talking to. “Please, Papa.”

He settled on the floor next to you. “How can I help?”

You shook your head and rushed to stand, ignoring the way the world seemed to tilt and shift under your feet. “You don’t—I should go. I’m so sorry.”

“Shh, shh, stellina. Please sit down, I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

“Okay,” you agreed and sank back to the floor.

To your surprise, Terzo pulled you closer and guided you to lay down. He didn’t seem to care that your head landed in his lap or that your wet, smudgy face was going to leave marks on his nice trousers. He simply began to hum and run his fingers through your hair, a soothing motion that made your eyelids feel heavy. The tune was familiar, something you knew but couldn’t place. It was soft yet heavy like the velvet curtains that hung in his office, warm like that secret sunny spot in the library. It worked like magic, the gentleness of his touch and the timbre of his voice calming your fears and your unbalanced thoughts as he hummed one of his songs—Yes! That was how you knew the song! How could you forget something so—

“This is better, sì?” he asked softly, his fingers still gently dancing through your hair.

How long had you been here? Did you fall asleep in Terzo’s lap? You had to admit it did feel pretty nice.

“Mmhmm,” you mumbled in agreement, unable to move from your new favorite spot.

“Bene. You relax now, stellina. I promise the feeling will pass and soon you will feel like yourself again.”

You groaned and folded your arms around your legs. “What if I don’t want to be myself anymore?”

“Oh? Who else could you be?”

“I dunno. Someone else, I guess. Someone you’d like.”

“What if I like you as you are?”

“Yeah okay,” you replied sarcastically.

“You don’t believe me? You would call your Papa a liar?” he teased.

“No! Of course not! It’s just…I dunno…why would he…” You shook your head as the train of thought left you completely. “Hang on, wait, what are we talking about?”

He laughed lightly, giving your arm a little squeeze. “We were discussing how I like you.”

“Oh.”

“Something wrong, stellina?”

“No…it’s just…” Your stomach flipped as your tried to find the words. It didn’t make sense. Nothing made sense. Your brain felt like three different jigsaw puzzles all trying to create a coherent picture—an impossible task that only added up to the one person you didn’t mind thinking about. His hair. His eyes. The soft kind smile he’d offer when he passed you in the halls.

“That’s really sweet of you, but I…I like someone else,” you finally managed.

“Ah, I see.”

“I’m sorry. I know it sounds so silly and juvenile and I probably don’t have a chance in the world, but I have a terrible crush on Papa Terzo and I—oh Lucifer’s balls! I’m so drunk. Fuck. You can’t tell him, ok? Promise me you won’t tell him!”

“Tell who?”

“Terzo.”

“I—You like Terzo?” he asked slowly. “As in more than friends?”

You pressed your face against his thigh and made a wounded sound. “I know, I know. It sounds so fucking stupid to say it out loud—”

“It’s not stupid, stellina. Perhaps you should consider telling him how you feel?”

“Maybe you should shut up,” you groaned as everything began to spin again. “Maybe I should shut up.”

“I promise not to tell him,” he assured you. “But what if he feels the same way, hmm?”

“He doesn’t. Why would he?”

“Why wouldn’t he?”

“Look at me. I’m a fucking mess.”

“You think he’s not?”

You sighed dreamily. “No, he’s perfect.”

“I don’t think that’s true.”

“Not like, perfect perfect. But he’s perfect, ok? Perfect in a way that only Terzo could be.”

“Stellina,” he whispered cautiously. “I can assure you I have many flaws.”

“Don’t care,” you mumbled sleepily. “Still like you.”

“Stellina, I like you, too.”

You let out a tiny “yay” and gave him a thumbs up.

“Would it be ok if I told you this again when you might remember it?”

You yawned loudly and burrowed deeper into his lap. “You can tell me anything.”

“Do you promise, stellina?”

You reached up, waving your hand around until you found his and hooked your pinky fingers together. “Promise.”

-x-

still working on all my other WIPs. Hoping to have some vampire Primo for you soon....[and more Mary Goore shhh] 💜

[drraculina]

TF breaks character a little too much and accidentally makes it canon that Terzo has a child 💀👶

PAPA EMERITUS III: I guess you all know about the birds and the bees and how it's done, right? We don't have to educate you in that. [looks at parent and child in the audience] I know, I know. She will get there too, I promise. That's the thing, you know... I have a little one too... [puts hand over heart] My god! But that is a later worry. Geneva, Switzerland (November 19, 2015)

[drraculina]

He wants you to call him 'your Majesty' while you're drawing him like one of your french girls. Or he will leave.

a reference

[drraculina]

These were my first Terzos! I'm still figuring out how to draw him. He's cool :]

[drraculina]

Unpainted Terzo studies 🌹

[drraculina]

Even more unpainted Terzo studies: smiley edition ✨

part 1

[drraculina]

images of the day 😚

[drraculina]

Do NOT talk to me or my son EVER again

[drraculina]

DROP DEAD GORGEOUS 🖤💀🎀

redraw of my terzo doll's sick outfit

[drraculina]

I finally picked up a physical copy of Meliora and it breaks my heart the art doesn’t have Terzo’s facepaint. But it got me thinking about how it could work in fiction, ignoring any real world stuff.

There are 3 major instances of Terzo having his paint look a lot more like Secondo’s: His introduction, the mini Papa in the Cirice video, and the art for each song in Meliora.

Other details to consider include how aggressively Terzo was removed from the Papacy. Sister Imperator being terrified of Terzo’s hand on her shoulder. Sister Imperator insisting they needed someone with “stamina and sexual charisma” when Terzo was overflowing with it. The fact that Terzo had won a grammy where his brothers hadn’t. The fact that all 3 Papas before Copia were murdered.

So I have some ideas.

In preparation for the transfer of the papacy, the church planned everything for Terzo. His look, the album, the first video. He was able to participate in the creation of the music to shape it better to suit what he’d want to perform, but he wasn’t allowed near the rest of it. He was already trying to have stronger influences over everything before his appointment, so to avoid further tensions they created the Cirice video with kids to mask things a bit. And Terzo couldn’t fight it too hard and risk the mantle being passed to someone else at the last minute.

Because unlike his brothers, Terzo wanted that power. For Primo, it was his sacred duty. It wasn’t a matter of enjoyment for him, but he took it very seriously. He did what was in the best interest of the ministry. Secondo enjoyed having power, but he wasn’t so much about leading a church. He’d rather be out partying in Vegas, as we saw. But not Terzo. He wanted that power, and for the wrong reasons in the eyes of the Ministry. He didn’t want the power to serve their dark lord, but to set people free. To drag them out of their sanitized lives to show them the truth. Damnation isn’t hell, it’s the life we’re in now.

His entire era was about defiance and rebellion. So why not also defiance of the very organization he represented? That’s why his face paint changed. We have seen 3 Papas before them, and all of them had much more detailed paint, with the vertical lines over the lips. Something more closely representing a skull. Just like his original paint looked like. But suddenly he comes out with a more abstract, geometric look. And because he was now Papa, it was harder to tell him he couldn’t do it.

Given that he uses more humor than his brothers, that he’s more flirty and seemingly light-hearted, Sister Imperator likely thought he’d be easy to control. That she could shape him into what the church needed. In that first act of changing his look, she likely tried to fight him on it. And that’s when she saw that under the surface he was a lot more like his brothers than she anticipated. But fueled by spite and rebellion, that bitter cruelty was aimed directly at her in a way she’d likely never experienced before. I think she was trying to say how terrifying he was in that one video, but it would ruin the image he wanted to project. So his hand rested on her shoulder as a mere warning that shook her to her core.

The worst part is that the gentler face he put on for the public worked. His defiance of what Sister Imperator first thought was best was a force to be reckoned with that dragged the entire Ministry out of the shadows and into the spotlight. When he won a Grammy she realized if she needed to do something or he would be too powerful to stop. If it’s was a softer image with humor people wanted, then her awkward boy actually had a chance. She couldn’t alter the course Terzo had taken entirely, but she could seize control of it once more. So she waited until the last show to have him forcibly removed.

As the church prepared to appoint Copia to the newly vacated seat of power, she worried about a coup. She feared Terzo would attempt to hold on to the spotlight at all costs once performances started once more. But if just Terzo was taken out, that could incur the wrath of his brothers. Hence why all three were taken out.

[drraculina]

Kitten thinks of nothing but murder all day

I don't think I've ever gone from initial idea to sketching the first page so fast.

I'm turning some of my headcanon rambles into a short, 8-page comic. The quickest summary is that Terzo is having none of Sister Imerator. And he's going to make that as clear as he can.

[drraculina]

When you paint in the corner at work with a crappy eraser, the results can come out… unexpectedly productive. I like the messiness of it.

[drraculina]

All shades of terzo 💜

[drraculina]

Terzo (born Arsenio Moretti, 20 Oct 1965)

Terzo was always thought of as Nihil's son. Secondo was Rebecca's son and she kept him as far from his bohemian father's influence as possible. Primo lived in suburbia with his own mother by the time Terzo showed up. Terzo's existence was a total surprise-- he arrived one morning in 1969, a four year old from the Milan Ministry location with a cardboard suitcase, happy smile, and not a word of English.

His mother was gone and so he was Nihil's. A surprise souvenir from the Italian tour that Rebecca made sure Papa Emeritus paid for every moment for the rest of his life. Nihil considered it accrued interest on the other fuckups. At a certain point debts become holes too large to ever get filled. Might as well...keep on going at that point.

Terzo was a very agreeable young boy and loved to perform. Singing, dancing, random stunts and showing off was how he warmed people up to him, especially early on when he couldn't understand the language. He understood applause and smiles and laughter first. The Siblings at the Ministry enjoyed his company and he was in part raised by a whole group. He was so easy-going and interested in the world that Nihil ended up taking him on tour a few times. The ghouls enjoyed his antics and he loved spending time with the whimsical yet silent beings. He spent a lot of his early years in hotel rooms and backstage watching performances, meeting various friends of friends who would pat his head and tell him how charming he was. Early on he was an aficionado of music, like his father. Nihil would take him out to nightclubs and performance spaces when he could. Terzo lived for the feathers and glitter and drama and music. Yes, nightclubs after midnight were definitely not places for young kids to really be but he was charming enough that no one really cared.

When Terzo was old enough to fend for himself he really did fend for himself-- alone, wandering the woods or an attic or the catacombs. It wasn't solely because Nihil had no parenting skills whatsoever, but Nihil himself was left to his own devices at that age. To Nihil it seemed natural for boys to wander around, and at the very least Terzo would come home to a group of friendly faces happy to see him, unlike his own upbringing.

Despite his fearless nature, Terzo never liked the dark. Bedtime was the worst-- nothing to do, no one to see. Left to your own thoughts while you waited for sleep. He didn't know why he would get angry when he was alone, not for a long time. The truth was Terzo was always liked but never really felt loved. Maybe Nihil cared for him, but his father never expressed it in a way that ever felt real. The affection always came from what he could do, his talent, his art but never just him for him. Terzo, standing there without a prop or a line or a skill to show off never felt more exposed in his whole life. He felt he needed to hide something, but never knew exactly what that something really was. So in the dark before bed his heart pounded. In the silence of the forest without the birdcalls to distract he felt like he needed to run away. When conversation drifted back to adult matters while he sat there at the kid's table his mind raced with what to do next. Please, please, please but he was never sure what he was begging for.

My "Scenes from the Void" AU

[drraculina]

VOL. 1