#papa buono

[fabriziosbardella]

La sera di Natale il Vescovo di Vittorio Veneto, monsignor Corrado Pizziolo, sbaglia sveglia, continua a dormire e salta la messa della vigilia. #vittorioveneto #corradopizziolo #albinoluciani #cronaca #diocesi #eventi #fabriziosbardella #messadellavigilia #papabuono #vescovo #vescovosbagliasveglia

#vittorio veneto #corrado pizziolo #albino luciani #cronaca #diocesi #eventi #fabrizio sbardella #messa della vigilia #papa buono #vescovo #vescovo sbaglia sveglia

[luigiviazzo]

Il Papa Buono, ovvero Giovanni XXIII o ancora Papa Roncalli, è un personaggio, oramai entrato nell'immaginario collettivo per la sua bontà (nomen omen avrebbero detto i Latini), celebrato in data 11 ottobre, vediamo il perché: l'11 ottobre del 1962 apre l'assise ecumenica, pronunciando il celebre Discorso della Luna, e per questo papa Francesco I, suo quinto successore, ha scelto questa data per la festa liturgica, legando la sua memoria a quell'evento profetico che aprì la Chiesa all'abbraccio con la modernità.

#venezia #giovanni xxiii #11 ottobre #papa Francesco #Papa buono #papa roncalli

[copiousloverofcopia]

I could also use some more Papa Terzo getting his face sat on by anyone. nemA. 🙏

Hey there ghestie!!!

I have so many things in the works for you lol but to start here's a little taste....no pun intended.

For your reading pleasure....

Smeared Paint

Featuring Terzo x reader for some face sitting/riding fun 😏

Also available HERE on AO3!

Definitely NSFW below the cut

"Are you sure about this?" you asked him. Your thighs tingling in anticipation. Trying hard to stop your legs from shaking as your wet core hovered just above his painted lips. 

"Si, sorella…now sit. I'm growing impatient." Terzo whined. Licking a trail up your thigh. Teasing his hot breath at your folds. You let out a sigh, ready to feel his mouth on you—insides pulsing just at the thought.

After all, he preferred it this way. Face buried into your folds. Ready to give his life in worship of your cunt. And though you had been his altar many times before, you always hesitated, worried you may facilitate his meeting Lucifer before his time. 

Before you could say anything else, the choice was made for you. Terzo quickly wrapped his arms around your thighs. Fingers dug deep into the flesh as he pulled you down hard on his face. The tender flesh of your cunt meeting with his mouth. 

"Ah!" You cried out. His sinful tongue slithered its way from your taint to your clit. Dipping into your opening a moment before he continued on. Lapping at you like melted gelato on a hot summer day. Both of you moaning as you instinctively rolled yourself over his face. The vibrations from his enthusiasm—heading straight to your clit. 

"Hmm... Sorella, la tua figa ha un sapore così buono. Come il frutto divino dell'albero proibito…" Terzo praised as he came up for air. His decadent words–followed by a string of moaning and indiscernible Italian. 

"Mmm…yeah…mmm…" you moaned. Your pussy gliding with ease across the broadness of his tongue. Terzo, kissing and nipping and sucking on your folds and you rode his face. You became lost in pleasure, grinding on him with wild abandon. Overwhelmed in your lustful haze.

You tried to raise up, but you were quickly forced back down. Terzo holding you, like a vice grip against his mouth. Your whole cunt dripping with his saliva—messy and wet as he continued. The pressure built up inside you, slowly starting to release. 

"Oh Papa, I wanna cum." You mewled; hand grabbed firmly on a tuft of raven black hair before you. Terzo staring up at you as he devoured you. Gently sucking on your lips and sliding his tongue once more over your cunt. 

"Then cum." He told you, his voice full of that suave, devilish charm that had made you fall for him in the first place. "Give me communion sorella." 

That was enough to send you over, yanking harder on his hair. Terzo hissing, his paints smeared all over his face and the inside of your thighs. Mixing for a perfect shade of gray. 

You came. The third Emeritus son drinking you down like the richest of wines. Savoring the notes of pleasure, divined in the way you tasted. Your fluids running over the corners of his smiling mouth. Still refusing to release his hold on you. 

You were breathless and spent, finding yourself falling. Collapsing down beside him in the ocean of violet sheets. A smile on your face—speaking to your lover's skill. Maybe you'd be the one to die from the sheer ecstasy he brought you.

You kept your eyes closed. Enjoying listening to the sound of your shared breathing, when you felt Terzo get up. Taking hold of your legs and flipping you onto your stomach. Pulling you up on your knees before you could even speak. 

"Ass up sorella. I'm not done with you yet." Terzo teased. 

"Oh!" You called out as he guided the swell of your ass higher in the air. Marveling at the sight of it, before adding two fingers carefully into your entrance. Pressing hard and deep into the bundle of nerves. Cloaked within you—a place only he was able to find. 

"That's a good girl sorella." Terzo praised you as you rolled your hips back against his fingers. Terzo glided his hand across your ass. His fingers sprayed out over it before giving you a good smack. Your cunt, jolting back even harder onto his hand. Face pressed against the bed, trying your best to quiet your moans. The mid-morning rendezvous, proving to be more noisy than you intended. 

"Tell me how bad you want his cock sorella. How much you long for my fingers to be replaced with it. So I can fill you and have you dripping with me." Terzo commanded. 

"Uh! Fuck…Yes!" You called out as he made you cum again on his hand. 

"Tell me what you want." He ordered you, removing his fingers and stroking himself with your slick. Cock hard and at attention and ready to do as promised.

"I want your cock. Please…"

"Please, what?" He taunted. Allowing the plump, leaking head of his cock to tap against your core. 

"Fuck! Papa! Please!" You cried, desperate for it now. Terzo, giving a sinister smile as he obliged you. Slamming himself through your folds and taking hold of the lush curves of your thighs. Pounding inside you with full fervor. 

"See…all you need is to ask nicely…" 

"Mmm…Papa, yes. Ah…ah…." You moaned, feeling him spreading you out. Pressing all around inside, your body tugging against him with every thrust. You began to compress around him. Clamping down on his cock as you began to cum. Practically screaming now in your pleasure. Both sure the whole of the Abbey could hear you. Not that either of you cared. 

"That's it…ah…yes…sorella…" Terzo groaned. Quickly losing his stride as your pussy fluttered around him. "Your. Cunt. Is. Mine." He growled as you felt him kick inside you. His burning seed, flooding deep inside. Your Papa, continuing his movements until he was sure you were stuffed full. 

He hung limp over you. Kissing the small of your back as he pulled his softened cock from inside you. Continuing his row of kisses as he met with your ass. Coming to lay beside you and shielding you from the cool air with the cover of his sheets.

"That was incredible…" you began before you realized what day it was, "...uh…Papa. Isn't it your day for confession?" You asked. 

"Oh shit, yes!" Terzo panicked. Springing up from the bed in a fury. Rummaging around the room for his discarded vestments. Quickly redressing before giving your forehead a kiss. "I'll be back for you later." He smiled attempting to head out the door. 

"Wait! Wait! You can't go out like that!" You told him. He turned to face you, eyebrow perked and that puzzled look on his face.

"And why not?"

"Your paints!" You told him, half laughing, motioning to your lap that looked like a grayscale painting. 

Terzo smirked, "Hmph…let them see."

Notes:

Hmm...Sister, your pussy tastes so good. Like divine fruit from the forbidden tree. -Hmm... Sorella, la tua figa ha un sapore così buono. Come il frutto divino dell'albero proibito.

#you asked i answered #Smeared paint #terzo #papa iii #papa emeritus iii #terzo x reader #terzo x afab reader #terzo x sibling of sin #terzo x sister of sin #ren writes #ghost #the band ghost #ghost fic #ghost fanfic #ghost fanfics #ghost fanfiction #the band ghost fic #the band ghost fanfic #the band ghost fanfiction

[bupia]

Serendipity: Chapter 2 - Papa Emeritus IV x Fem!Reader

Summary: Following the mesmerizing Halloween ball, your second day at the Ministry arrives, marked by a celebratory lunch in honor of the Ministry's new Papa Emeritus, Copia. Little do you suspect that the events of this fateful day will unveil unexpected twists.

Words: 8.228

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol; Alcohol drink; Mentions of drunkenness.

Available on AO3

Chapter 1 | Chapter 3

Day 2: The Lunch.

In an instant, you were wide awake, your instincts kicking in as you untangled yourself from the cozy cocoon of your bedsheets. There was no time for hesitation or grogginess. With determined steps, you navigated your way through the dimly lit corridor, the soft patter of your footsteps echoing in the silence. As you entered, there, in his crib, was Andras, tiny and vulnerable, his face scrunched in distress.

Without a second thought, you reached down, scooping him up into your arms. You cradled him close, your touch gentle and soothing. As his cries gradually gave way to soft whimpers, laying him down on your arm. His cries began to subside, but he still clung to the remnants of his distress.

"Shh…" you cooed softly, your voice a soothing melody that only he could hear. "I'm here, I'm here, it's fine."

You continued to sway gently, your heartbeat and warmth a comforting presence against his tiny frame. The bedroom door swung open with a soft creak, drawing your attention away from Andras. Terzo, entered the room, his eyes locking onto yours.

"Oh, you didn't need to check him this early, piccola," he said, concern evident in his voice.

You met his gaze with a reassuring smile. "It's fine, Papa. Really."

Terzo approached the two of you, his footsteps measured and deliberate. His eyes softened as he looked down at the little one nestled in your arms. With a warm smile, he gently extended his hands, and you willingly passed Andras into his care.

"I guess someone needs a diaper change," you remarked with a playful grin.

"Mio figlio ha bisogno di pannolini freschi, sì?" Terzo inquired with a chuckle.

Together, Terzo and Andras headed toward the bathroom connected to the bedroom. You followed closely, just in case they needed a hand or any assistance. As Terzo expertly tended to Andras's diaper change, you found yourself momentarily lost in thought, your gaze drifting back to the bedroom. Copia, had suddenly invaded your mind. Images of him holding Andras in his arms, with a soft smile on his face, played like an unbidden daydream. It was a fleeting and unexpected thought, one that lingered in your mind, even as your attention returned to the tender scene in the bathroom.

"How was the Halloween ball yesterday, Papa?" you inquired, curiosity gleaming in your eyes.

Terzo didn't miss a beat, his hands working diligently. "È stato buono, molto buono," he replied, a hint of exhaustion in his voice. "We had fun, but I feel completely wasted now. I guess my days of partying until late are over."

You couldn't help but giggle at his statement. "Don't say that, I think you still can do it."

"Grazie," he said, lifting Andras into his arms. "So, I need to pass the schedule to you for today."

You nodded in agreement and followed him back into the bedroom. As he began to outline the day's plans, you listened attentively.

"Today we are going to have a meeting in the morning," Terzo began, walking toward the bedroom door with you in tow. "Then we have lunch with the clergy, and they requested it to be here," he continued, heading into the kitchen. "So I'll need you here for us."

"Me?" You looked surprised.

"Sì," Terzo nodded, busying himself in the kitchen. "I'll need you to help the siblings who will come to cook and of course, you're more than welcome to join us at the lunch."

"No problem at all, Papa," you assured him.

"Molto bene," he replied, handing you Andras. "I'll make some coffee."

"Do you need any help, Papa?" you offered.

Terzo shook his head, declining your assistance. "Could you just put Andras in the high chair? And if you'd like, it's still quite early, and you can go back to sleep, or perhaps explore the Ministry and visit the cafeteria to meet the siblings from here."

Nodding in agreement, you made your way to the high chair, gently settling Andras into it, ensuring his comfort. "Very good, you're a good boy," you whispered, earning a delightful smile from the little one. "Papa, do you need anything else?" you asked as you turned back to face Terzo.

"Per niente. Go take some hours of sleep or enjoy yourself; you deserve it."

"Excuse me, Papa," you said before leaving the kitchen.

As you returned to your bedroom and closed the door behind you, you were drawn to the morning garden outside. The soft morning light bestowed a tranquil beauty upon the landscape, holding you in its serene spell. You looked out the window with a peaceful smile, the world bathed in the gentle morning radiance. It did seem like an appealing idea to leave the chambers and venture into the Ministry, just as Terzo had suggested. With that intention in mind, you reached for the curtains, pulling them shut to grant yourself some privacy as you changed your clothes.

Then, unexpectedly, you spotted him – Copia, approaching in haste. A gasp escaped your lips, but you restrained yourself from calling out. Your eyes locked onto his figure, and you bit your lip in anticipation. He stopped suddenly, and you furrowed your brows, wondering what he was doing. His gaze turned to your window, and your eyes met, causing your heart to race.

You widened your eyes, blushing as your body felt both exhilarated and frozen in place. Copia hesitated before lifting his hand in a small wave towards you. You smiled and waved back, relief and happiness coursing through you as he mirrored your smile. He gave you a nod and then lowered his arm slowly before resuming his walk, vanishing from your view. You couldn't help but feel your heart fluttering and your stomach tingling.

You swiftly prepared for the day, changing out of your nightclothes into fresh attire. You left your bedroom and, driven by the desire to explore the Ministry, made your way to the front door.

As you ventured through the illuminated corridors of the Ministry, the morning light transformed the space into a breathtaking masterpiece. Stained glass windows cast a cascade of colors upon the marble floors and walls. It was a sight to behold.

Guided by the irresistible aroma of freshly baked bread and coffee, you navigated your way to the cafeteria. Upon arrival, you witnessed a lively gathering of siblings enjoying their breakfast and engaging in conversation. Scanning the room, your eyes locked onto Copia, sitting alone at a table near the window. Your heart raced within your chest, and a slight nervousness fluttered in your stomach as you contemplated approaching him. But then, you realized it might be your only chance to see him. Steeling your resolve, you began to move in his direction, taking one deliberate step at a time.

You approached him, saying, "You look lost, Papa."

Copia suddenly jolted at your approach, making you wonder if you had startled him.

Your voice quivered slightly as you asked, "Did I scare you, Papa...?"

He stumbled over his words before saying, "N-No... It's just... You were... now you are... lascia perdere, maybe I was lost in my own thoughts," he gesticulated with his hand to the chair in front of him. "Per favore, take a seat, sì?"

You smiled and nodded, then took a seat at the table across from him. "Thank you, Papa."

Copia seemed to regain his composure and asked, "How are you this morning? Is everything fine?"

"Yes," you replied, attempting to mask your nervousness behind a smile. "Everything is perfectly fine. And how are you, Papa?"

"Bene... I mean, good," Copia replied. "It's good to see you here. I was just thinking about you." He took a sip from his mug.

You raised an eyebrow and asked, "You were thinking about me?"

Copia almost spat his drink, but he managed to gulp it down, albeit with a cough. It seemed he had accidentally revealed his thoughts. He quickly grabbed a napkin to cover his mouth and coughed slightly.

"Are you okay?" you asked, your eyes widened as you reached for his free hand on the table.

Copia continued coughing, his grip on your hand tightening. Your worry grew as you felt the eyes of other siblings on you. After a moment, Copia stopped coughing and took a deep breath.

"Mi... mi dispiace, cuoricina," he began, his voice still a bit raspy. "I think the... the liquid went to the wrong place..."

"Was the coffee too hot?" you chuckled, brushing your thumb against his hand.

"Coffee...?" he said slowly and then looked at the mug in his hand. "Eh... no, no, this is not coffee," he chuckled, shaking his head. "It's hot chocolate."

You couldn't help but chuckle silently at how adorable he was. You released his hand, and as he took another sip, and you turned your gaze to the window.

"But, sì, sì, I was thinking about you," he continued, making you turn your face back to him.

"Were you, Papa?" you smiled, your eyes filled with curiosity and warmth. "What were you thinking about me?"

Copia's gaze was unwavering, the playful twinkle in his eyes as he spoke, "I was wondering if you enjoyed your first night here."

Your smile widened as you responded, "Ah, yes, I had a very good night. And you? How was the party?"

Copia hesitated for a moment, his gaze still locked with yours, and then he said, "It was good, but the party was not too fun."

"Why not, Papa?" you inquired, tilting your head and listening attentively.

He began to answer but paused for a moment before saying, "I felt like something was missing."

Your eyes were still focused on him, the soft light from the window playing on his face, giving him a warm and inviting aura. "Don't worry, Papa. I guess you felt that way because of your new role within the ministry. As you said, it's all new, right?"

"Sì... sì... I guess that was it," he replied, nodding thoughtfully, and taking a final sip of his chocolate milk.

"How are you feeling about lunch today?" you asked as you looked into his eyes.

"Ehh..." he hesitated.

"That doesn't sound good," you commented, your tone soft and understanding. "Did something happen?"

"Nothing happened, I'm just feeling a bit nervous, I suppose," he admitted with a soft giggle.

"Nervous about the lunch with the clergy?" you inquired.

"A little, sì," he confirmed.

"But everything is going well, you don't have to worry. Plus, your brothers will be there with you, right?" you reassured him.

"Sì, they will be there with me," he nodded.

"So, what's bothering you, Papa?" you inquired, your concern evident in your eyes.

Copia took a deep breath before answering. "I'm just a bit nervous about the rest of the week. Becoming a Papa was a dream, but now I'm feeling a little anxious about how this week will unfold."

"Oh, Papa…" you began, "I think you might be overthinking it, don't you? The week will go perfectly fine, you'll see. Besides, I believe your brothers could provide more guidance than I can. They've all been Papas before you, and I'm just a nanny."

"I know I could ask them," he admitted, his gaze locked with yours. "But talking to you makes me feel more relaxed."

"Really?" you asked, genuinely surprised.

"Sì, yesterday when we talked, you made me feel a bit more confident. Somehow, you managed to calm my nerves," Copia explained.

"I'm very glad I could help you, Papa," you responded sincerely.

Copia offered you a smile and then turned his gaze toward the window, watching the garden outside. "So, did you like your morning view today?"

"Yes!" you exclaimed with enthusiasm, turning your face to the window. "The garden looks amazing, Papa! Just look at it, all those trees, the flowers, and the grass—it's so green!"

Copia observed your excitement with a soft expression on his face. He got up from the chair, walking over to sit beside you. "Primo was the one who planted most of them or took care of them."

"No way!" your eyes widened with excitement and amazement. "Primo? Papa Emeritus I?"

"Sì, that Primo," Copia confirmed with a chuckle. "He's always had a thing for plants. I suppose it's his way of showing his softer side or something like that."

"That's really nice," you remarked, turning your head back to gaze at the garden. "Everything looks so beautiful out there. I hope I get the opportunity to visit it someday while I'm staying here at the ministry."

Copia's arm gently enveloped you from behind, his hand supporting your chair's back. He leaned in closer, his breath brushing against your ear, and pointed to the garden outside the window. "Do you see those white ones close to the tall tree over there?"

You slowly turned your head to look at him, feeling his warmth and closeness. His face was just inches away from yours, and as your eyes locked, the bustling cafeteria seemed to fade into the background. The only sounds that remained were your racing heartbeats, and the only sight was the mesmerizing contrast of his mismatched eyes.

"Did you see them...?" Copia whispered, his face so close to yours that you could feel the warmth of his breath against your mouth.

You nodded slowly, your half-opened eyes meeting his. Copia smiled, then inhaled deeply and turned his face back to the window. You followed suit, gazing at the garden outside.

"What can you tell me about those, Papa?" you asked, feeling his cheek lightly touching yours.

"Primo had me and miei fratelli plant them," Copia began. "It was the day he became a Papa, and he said they'd be a symbol of his Papa legacy and ours as well. They are tulips, White Triumphators, I believe." He chuckled and leaned back in his seat. "We used to find it amusing because when they're closed, they resemble the mitra of a Papa."

"Well... I can see..." you began, but your voice trailed off as you felt his fingers gently tilting your chin, bringing your face to meet his, "...that."

"Grazie for talking to me," Copia expressed his gratitude. "And for listening to me, even just for a moment."

You smiled, replying, "You don't have to thank me. If you ever need someone to talk to, you can always talk to me."

Copia's smile was warm. "Your gentleness means a lot to me, and I genuinely enjoy our conversations. Somehow, talking to you makes me feel better. You're the only one I know who doesn't find my problems tedious."

You smiled warmly in response. "I enjoy talking to you too, Papa. You're easy to talk to, and I don't find your problems tedious at all. We all have our struggles, and I'm here to listen and support you."

"I also need to thank you for not judging this old man as overly dramatic," he sighed.

You reached out and placed your hand on his, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "I'll never judge you, Papa. That's not drama, well, maybe just a little," you teased.

Copia intertwined his fingers with yours, leaning his face closer to yours. Your noses were now almost touching. "Are you calling your Papa dramatic? Just because he's opening his heart to you?"

"Maybe," you replied coyly.

"Do you know you are talking to the Papa Emeritus IV?" Copia asked, a mischievous grin on his face.

"Oh, I'm fully aware of who I'm talking to," you responded, gazing into his eyes.

"So, you won't take back what you said?" he teased.

"Not at all," you whispered, a playful smile dancing on your lips.

A sense of playful tension hung in the air as his gaze lingered on your face. He tilted his head to the side, looking at you with an intrigued expression. The closeness between you made your heart race, and you couldn't help but blush. After a few moments of shared silence, you both chuckled playfully, and he leaned back in his chair, ending the intense moment.

"I truly enjoyed our conversations," Copia said with a sincere smile on his lips.

"I'm glad to hear that; it means we've developed a good friendship."

"Friendship…" he repeated, his eyes briefly turning to the floor. "I'm afraid it's time for me to attend to my morning duties," he murmured, a touch of sadness in his voice.

"That's okay, Papa... I bet your day is quite busy," you replied.

Copia reluctantly got up from his seat, his gaze lingering on the floor. "Don't forget to have your breakfast, cuoricina."

"Oh, I won't, Papa!" you said, getting up from your seat and standing in front of him.

Copia turned his face towards you, his expression hinting that he might be holding something back. "I guess this is another goodbye."

You chuckled. "Yes, but you'll see me at lunch, so it's more like a 'see you soon,' I guess."

Copia managed a smile despite the hint of sadness in his eyes. "Arrivederci, cuoricina."

You replied with a warm smile, "Arrivederci, Papa."

Copia nodded, and after a lingering gaze, he turned and left the cafeteria. You watched him walk away, feeling a sense of longing. As he disappeared from view, you decided to go to have your breakfast.

As breakfast concluded, you made your way back to the Papal apartment. Upon your return, you found that several siblings had gathered there, creating a lively and bustling atmosphere. Angèle held Andras in her arms, and she asked if you could watch over him while she briefly headed downstairs to meet Terzo.

The hours rolled by, and you kept busy tending to Andras and assisting other siblings in the preparation and organization of the upcoming lunch. As you worked alongside them, you started engaging in conversations and getting to know more people from the ministry.

As the time passed, one of the siblings approached you, explaining that they would take over the tasks, and you were free from the tasks as the clergy members and Papas were expected to arrive soon, and you might want to freshen up.

Following their advice, you made your way to your bedroom and selected some fresh clothes for the occasion. A quick but refreshing bath in the bathroom revitalized your spirits. Dressed and ready, you left the bathroom and heard Secondo's voice echoing in the distance.

Peeking into the living room from the corridor, it was clear that everyone had gathered in the Papal apartment, yet Copia was notably absent. You chuckled to yourself, musing about whether a Papa should ever be fashionably late to his own formal lunch.

Before you could return to your bedroom, Dewdrop emerged from Andras' room, clutching Andras' favorite plushie in hand. He paused upon locking eyes with you.

"Look who's here," he quipped, deftly closing the door behind him.

With a playful tone, you retorted, "I'm always here, Dew..."

He took a step closer, grinning, and probed, "So..."

You feigned innocence, asking, "So...?"

"Won't you tell me how your night was?"

"My night?" you began, "Well, I came back here to the bedroom and stayed with Andras, and..."

Dewdrop couldn't contain himself, interrupting with flair, "Ah, cut it off! You came back here with Papa Emeritus IV, and you won't tell me what happened? I thought I was like... what do they call it..." He furrowed his brow, pretending to ponder. "Best friend!"

"I came back with Papa Emeritus IV, yes, but it's not what you're thinking," you said, trying to suppress a chuckle at Dewdrop's antics. "We just talked, and he's one of the Papas, after all."

Dewdrop sighed dramatically. "I thought you were about to tell me that you and Papa fu—"

"Sorry to disappoint," you interjected. "But nothing happened, we just talked and he left."

Dewdrop playfully pouted. "Well, fine then. Maybe next time you'll have something more exciting to share."

You chuckled. "We'll see, Dewdrop."

Dewdrop couldn't help but tease further. "Not even a little kiss?"

You laughed and replied, "Dew, you have quite an imagination! No, definitely not. We barely know each other, and he's a Papa. I highly doubt he'd be interested in that after just one night."

Dewdrop playfully raised an eyebrow. "You'd be surprised what the Papas can do or have done in one night with their affairs."

You laughed again and shook your head. "I think I'd rather not know about their affairs, Dew."

Dewdrop grinned and shifted his attention to the plushie in his hand. "Well, at least I have Flufficer here to keep me company." He then brought the plushie closer to his face. "Right, Flufficer? We won't cover the secrets ourselves, will we?"

You chuckled and couldn't help but be entertained by Dewdrop's lively personality. "I think Flufficer can't actually talk."

Dewdrop couldn't resist an eye roll, but a mischievous glint danced in his eyes as he teased you. "So, why did you escape the party yesterday with Papa?"

With a sigh, you explained, "I didn't escape the party with Papa! I heard that you were here with Andras. So, I told Angèle I'd come back and keep an eye on him."

Dewdrop raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "And Papa Emeritus IV came along because...?"

"Because I didn't know where to go and he wanted to see Andras since he hadn't had a chance to before," you replied.

Dewdrop nodded in understanding. "Got it."

Suddenly, the faint sound of crying echoed from a distance. Dewdrop's attention shifted, and he gave you a knowing nod before heading to the living room.

With Dewdrop attending to Andras, you returned to your room to complete your preparations for the lunch. To your surprise, when you entered, you found Copia sitting on the chair you had set near the window the previous night. He turned to you when he noticed your presence, and a warm smile spread across his face. Without a word, he approached you, wrapping his arms around your waist and gently pulling you into the room. He closed the door behind you, pinning you against it.

"P...Papa... Can I help you with something?" you started to say, but he placed his index finger against your lips, silencing you.

"I'm hiding," he whispered, looking down at you.

"Hiding?" you whispered back.

"Sì, hiding," he confirmed with a playful grin.

"From who?" you whispered.

Copia's mismatched eyes revealed a hint of nervousness as he held you close against the door. You could feel his heart racing, making it clear that he was far from feeling at ease.

You tilted your head, gazing at him with concern. "Is there something you're worried about, Papa?"

Copia sighed softly, his grip on your waist relaxing a little. "It's just... the formal lunch with the clergy. I'm not sure if I'm ready for all the conversations, the attention. I thought I could hide somewhere for a time."

"And you chose to hide here?" you asked in a hushed tone.

"Eh... I needed somewhere," he confessed.

"And the only available place was my... room?"

Copia nodded, still looking nervous. "I couldn't hide where Terzo and Angèle were, and I also couldn't hide in Andras' room, and you were at the bathroom, so there was only one option, sì?" He took a deep breath. "And I came here to stay with you."

"With me?" you asked, feeling your heart race as he closed the distance between you.

Copia hesitated for a moment, then replied, "Well, you mentioned this morning that we're friends, sì?"

"Yes," you replied, your gaze briefly darting away from his.

Copia's gloved hand gently tilted your chin upwards, urging you to meet his gaze again. His eyes held a soft, affectionate glint. "Friends support each other, sì?"

You couldn't help but smile shyly. "We can stay here as long as you need, Papa."

Copia's thumb brushed against your cheek, and he leaned closer to you, his lips grazing your ear as he whispered, "Grazie, cuoricina," his grip tightened again, and he leaned in closer. "You make me feel better, comfortable, and I trust you. I need that right now," he admitted with a wavering voice.

"Papa... you do realize that eventually someone will come looking for me, don't you?" you inquired, a soft giggle escaping your lips.

Copia sighed, his nervousness still evident in his voice. "Lo so, lo so, but I just needed a moment... to breathe, to collect myself." He looked at you with a hint of desperation in his eyes.

You reached out and gently placed your hand on his cheek, your thumb brushing lightly against his skin. "Papa, you'll do great out there. You're strong, and you have all the qualities to be a wonderful Papa."

His eyes softened, and he leaned into your touch. Slowly, he removed his arm from around you, taking a small step back to allow you to move from the door. You took a step aside and placed your hand on his arm.

"But we can stay here as long as you need to," you reassured him, gently caressing his arm with your hand.

His body shivered under your touch, and you quickly pulled your hand back, preparing to move away. However, he reached out and grabbed your arm, pausing you in your tracks.

Your bodies collided as he pulled you towards him. Your faces were so close that Copia's eyes were closed, and his breath quickened. He cupped your cheek with his other hand, sending a shiver down your spine, and a warm grip radiated from your stomach. Your eyes searched his face for something you weren't quite sure of, and he leaned in closer, his face stopping just inches from yours. His lips ghosted over yours, and you brought your hands to his arms, holding onto the sleeves of his shirt.

Your breathing quickened, and you closed your eyes as you felt his hand leaving your arm and then enveloping your waist, pressing your body against his. Your hands traveled from his arms to his shoulders and up to his neck as you began pulling him even closer. However, your moment was abruptly interrupted as your bedroom door swung open, and both of you pulled away from each other instantly.

"Fratello?" Terzo's voice echoed in the room. "What are you...?" He began but turned his gaze to you. "Oh... Did I interrupt something?" he said with a smirk, shifting his attention back to Copia.

"No, we were just talking," Copia responded.

"With the door closed?" Terzo leaned against the doorframe, maintaining his smirk. "Is this true?" He turned his gaze to you.

"Yes, Papa," you replied, unable to look at Terzo, choosing instead to focus on the floor. "Papa Copia came to my room to talk to me."

"Bene," Terzo said, nodding. "I trust you. And you," he added, addressing Copia. "I don't even have to say it, do I?"

"I'll be there in a minute," Copia replied, reaching for the door and closing it.

Copia sighed, and you kept your eyes trained on the floor. You heard his footsteps, and you could only see his shoes as he stood in front of you. Slowly, you raised your gaze to meet his, sensing a hint of longing in his expression.

"Will you stay by my side during the lunch? Just in case I need some support?" Copia asked.

You offered a warm smile. "Of course, Papa. I'll be right there with you."

"Sono ancora qui!" Terzo's voice echoed from the other side of the door.

Copia sighed, displaying his frustration, and reached for the doorknob, opening it. He proceeded to join Terzo, and together they headed to the living room to meet with the members of the clergy and their brothers. After a few moments, you followed suit and walked alongside them to the dining room.

As you arrived in the dining room, the clergy members and Papas began taking their seats. Regrettably, all the spots close to Copia were already occupied, leaving you to find a seat farther from him. However, you were content that at least you had a clear view of Copia, who was seated at the head of the table.

The lunch commenced with the arrival of the first plates, carried in by some siblings. This pattern continued as more dishes were served. Although you were already familiar with the menu, having spent a significant part of your day helping to prepare it, you couldn't help but be impressed by the elegant presentation and service of the dishes.

Throughout the meal, the conversation flowed, with some topics you couldn't quite grasp. Nevertheless, Copia expertly addressed questions from the members of the clergy, as indicated by Secondo's approving looks, Primo's nods, and the serious expression on Terzo's face. You couldn't help but feel proud of Copia, and you sent quick glances his way, each accompanied by a discreet smile. It seemed like he noticed because he mirrored your expressions throughout the formal meal.

The elaborate lunch continued for several hours until they finally reached the dessert course. However, unfortunately, you and Angèle had to excuse yourselves earlier as Andras began to cry in his room. Angèle briefly returned to the dining room, leaving you to tend to Andras until he fell back asleep. As you knew the meal was already over, and the conversation had likely shifted to Ministry matters, you decided to make your way to your bedroom, hoping to enjoy the view of the sunset from your window.

As time passed, you could still hear their voices, sometimes punctuated by the clinking of glasses, indicating that they had likely moved to the living room. At times, you left your room to check on Andras in his bedroom. You couldn't help but take quick glances at the living room, where only a few members of the clergy remained with the four Papas, sharing bottles of wine and deep conversations.

Whenever you moved back and forth between your bedroom and Andras' room, you kept taking quick glances at them, especially Copia, as he engaged in conversations with the clergy members. You felt a sense of relief as you observed that his initial nervousness and fears seemed to have dissipated.

At times, while passing through the common areas of the apartment, you found yourself stopping to listen to the conversations, even though most of it was in Italian, which you couldn't fully understand. When you did pause to listen, it was not uncommon for Copia's eyes to turn to you. In response, you would nod your head and offer him a proud smile before retreating to your own space. You couldn't help but feel immense pride for him, seeing how well he was handling his new role.

The warm, yellow lights of the Garden were finally turned on, signaling the approach of night. With that transition, the voices in the apartment began to grow quieter, including the voices of the Papas. Primo was the first one to arrive at your room to bid you goodnight, but instead, you decided to join him and the others in the living room.

Upon your arrival, you found Secondo, Terzo, and Copia seated together. They were sharing laughter and engaging in lively conversation. Secondo held a bottle of wine, while Terzo had a glass in hand, and he sat with his legs crossed. Copia, on the other hand, seemed to be in a relaxed state, almost lounging in his chair. The fabric around his neck was untied, and his shirt had some of its top buttons undone, revealing his hairy chest and collarbones.

"Non preoccuparti," Primo's voice reached your ears, and you shifted your attention from Copia to him. "They won't stay much longer, bella, they'll be gone in a few minutes. They're just a bunch of old men who can't stand drinking nights anymore."

"Vecchi uomini?" Secondo chimed in, standing up. "Guarda chi parla, il più anziano di tutti noi."

"Siamo tutti vecchi, Secondo," Terzo replied.

"Beh, non mi considero un vecchio," Secondo retorted. "Mia moglie mi fa sentire giovane. Noi-"

"We don't need to hear the details," Primo interrupted, cutting Secondo off. "She doesn't deserve to hear the details of your intimacy, brother."

"Ah, come on, Primo!" Secondo huffed and turned to face Terzo. "Terzo knows what I'm talking about. There's so much love, so much passion that we feel young again."

"He's right, I do know what he's talking about," Terzo said, taking a sip from his glass. "Actually, I think it's time for you three to let me feel young tonight, as my wife awaits me in bed."

"Scortese!" Secondo exclaimed and placed the bottle on the coffee table. "Since when did you start ending the parties so early?"

"Since I became a father," Terzo replied. "No, better yet, since I married a woman I desire to worship and cherish every night."

Terzo and Secondo laughed and made their way toward you and Primo. As they walked together to the front door, you observed their interactions. However, you couldn't help but turn your gaze back to Copia, who was pouring another glass of wine and taking a sip. Your eyes remained fixated on him, and you tilted your head as a single drop of wine escaped his lips, traced down his chin, neck, and chest, disappearing into his black shirt.

Just then, the sound of the door closing drew your attention, and you immediately faced Terzo, who was approaching your direction. You smiled warmly and watched him moving to the couch, sitting down beside Copia. You walked in their directions and started to collect the empty glasses and bottles from the coffee table.

"Sono veramente orgoglioso di te," Terzo stated, his eyes brimming with genuine warmth. "You handled today exceptionally well, fratello mio."

You carried on with your tidying, and Terzo's gaze shifted toward you, offering a appreciative smile.

"Grazie," Terzo said.

"You don't need to thank me, Papa," you humbly replied.

Terzo redirected his attention to Copia and added, "I know you had your reservations about today, but I believe you've managed everything splendidly, and I'm confident the members of the clergy are quite satisfied with your performance."

Copia nodded, his mismatched eyes reflecting his gratitude.

"But," he rose from the couch, his attention focused on Copia. "For now, it's time for you to return to your chambers, fratello. This includes..." Terzo reached for the glass in Copia's hand, taking it from him. "Niente più vino per te stasera."

Copia gazed at Terzo, his eyes only slightly drowsy. You couldn't be sure if he was drunk or simply tired.

"Hai bisogno di riposo, io ho bisogno di riposo, ne abbiamo tutti bisogno," Terzo asserted as he approached you, collecting the bottles and glasses from your hands. "Can I ask you to keep him company tonight?"

"You mean..." you furrowed your brows, "...stay with Papa?"

Terzo shook his head. "No, just go with him to his chambers, it would be greatly appreciated, piccola."

You nodded in agreement. "Of course, Papa."

Copia hesitated for a moment, his mismatched eyes flickering with uncertainty. "No!" he exclaimed, a bit too quickly. "I mean, it's not necessary. I can go by myself."

Terzo chuckled and headed for the kitchen. "I know you can, but I just want to ensure you arrive safely, and I trust her. So, buonanotte, fratello," he called before disappearing into the kitchen.

Copia remained in the living room, still half-asleep. After a moment of quiet, he gradually stood up, his body swaying slightly as he sought balance. Swiftly, you reached out and held his waist to steady him, and he looked down at you.

"I guess Primo might be right," he mumbled, resting his hands on your shoulders. "We could be seen as a bunch of old men who can't handle their drinks anymore."

"Don't think like that, Papa," you reassured him. Taking his hand, you placed his arm around your neck and wrapped your arm around his waist. "You're not old, just wiser, perhaps," you said with a smile as you guided him towards the front door.

"Is that the polite way to call me old?" He shook his head.

You chuckled and shook your head, denying the implication. "Not at all, I promise."

You reached for the front door's knob and opened it to let both of you exit. After stepping outside together, you closed the door. Suddenly, it occurred to you that you had no idea where Copia's chambers were. You turned to face him, observing the slightly dazed expression on his face.

"Papa, I... You'll have to guide me to your room," you said in a soft tone. "Again," you added with a giggle.

"Of course," he responded, shifting his arm from your neck to your waist, pulling you closer. "I'll be your guide whenever you need."

Your cheeks grew warm at his words, and you found yourself unable to meet his gaze. His grip on you tightened as you both continued to walk side by side, your arms wrapped around each other, navigating the empty halls of the ministry. There were no Ghouls or siblings in sight, a fact for which you were grateful. If Dewdrop had witnessed this scene, he would undoubtedly never let you hear the end of it the next day.

The ministry was shrouded in an eerie silence at this hour, a stillness that seemed to amplify every little sound. You could almost swear you could hear the faint crackling of the flames on the candles that adorned the walls, even if you weren't entirely sure if they were real. What you were undeniably sure of was the synchronized rhythm of your and Copia's footsteps echoing through the empty corridors. And, most unmistakably, the steady thumping of your own heartbeats. Being so close to him, wrapped in each other's arms, sent waves of nervousness and anticipation coursing through you.

After a short walk, but not an overly long one, Copia stopped before a door. He gently unwrapped his arm from your waist, retrieving a small key from his pants pocket. He skillfully unlocked the door and turned to you.

"Grazie for coming with me," he said, his brows furrowing, and his eyes only half-open. "Don't forget to tell mio stupido fratello that I'm safe."

"Of course, Papa, I'll make sure to inform him," you giggled. "Goodnight."

Copia nodded and took a step toward you, but his balance wavered once again. You quickly stepped closer, your hands went to his waist while one of his hands found rest on your shoulder. His face was near your neck, and you could feel his warm breath against your skin. You needed to maintain composure, so you took a deep breath, placing your hands on his back. Before you knew it, Copia's arms wrapped around you, and you both stood there in a silent, empty corridor in each other's arms. Your heart raced, unsure of what to do or say, but you couldn't let the moment linger.

Breaking the silence, you gently withdrew your arms from around him. "Papa, are you feeling alright?"

"Eh..." he pulled his head back, looking at you. "I'm just a little... dizzy, sì, sì. I think I need my bed."

"You need to rest, Papa," you spoke gently. "Let's go; I'll help you."

You took one of his hands in a firm grip and guided him slowly into his chambers, closing the door behind you. His room was relatively small, making it easy to navigate. As you reached the bed, you placed a hand on his back and gently helped him sit on the edge of the mattress.

"There you go, Papa," you said with a gentle smile, pulling your hands away from him. "Now, please, lay down and try to get some rest."

"Are you leaving already, cuoricina?" Copia inquired, lifting his head and gazing at you. "Can't you stay a little longer?"

You chuckled and shook your head while regarding him affectionately. "No, I can't stay. I came here just to make sure you arrived safely."

"But I really wish you'd stay with me..." he said, his eyes pleading. "I need you here with me."

You chuckled, fully aware that his words were likely influenced by the copious amount of wine he had consumed since lunch, a clear attempt to soothe his nerves. It was undoubtedly the wine talking.

"Could you at least help me remove this paint?" he sighed. "I don't want to wake up with my sheets and pillow covered in paint from my face, and I doubt I can manage it on my own."

"Of course," you replied, smiling at him.

Copia rose from his bed and took small, cautious steps towards the door. You followed closely behind, your hands at the ready in case he needed assistance. He reached for the door and gently pushed it open, revealing a bathroom. He entered and flicked on the light. You continued to trail him, entering the bathroom with him, and he came to a stop in front of the sink.

He extended his arm toward the mirror, which doubled as a cabinet. Opening it, he retrieved some wet tissues and placed them on the countertop.

"That's normally what I use..." he mentioned, turning to face you.

"Why don't you take a seat, Papa?" you suggested.

He scanned the bathroom and made his way to the toilet, sitting on the lid and turning to face you. You smiled at him, then reached for the package of wet tissues. Stepping a bit closer to him, you positioned yourself in front of him and extracted some tissues from the package, using your fingers to gently lift his chin, tilting his head towards you. His eyes met yours before they slowly closed.

You set the package back on the countertop and began cleaning his face paint. With each wipe, his flushed and puffy appearance became more evident beneath the layers of paint.

"I shouldn't have drunk that much wine, I have so many things to do tomorrow..." he began.

You chuckled softly while continuing to clean his face. "How many glasses did you have?"

"Uh..." he opened his eyes and furrowed his brow. "I... at lunch, I had one, after that, in the afternoon, I had another one, with my brothers I had two more... Uh..."

"So, four glasses?" you inquired.

"Sì, quattro," he nodded.

"Close your eyes for me, Papa," you said in a soothing tone, and he obliged, shutting his eyes in response.

You gently moved the tissues toward his eyes, carefully cleaning away the round black paint that adorned them. Copia let out a contented sigh.

"This is good," he murmured, his voice laced with a hint of vulnerability.

You couldn't help but be curious. "What is good?"

He shifted on the toilet lid, his face still concealed behind his closed eyelids. "Your touch... it's comforting."

A soft chuckle escaped your lips as you recognized the unmistakable influence of the wine in his words. However, it didn't stop a warm sensation from spreading through you.

"Thank you, Papa," you replied, your voice filled with affection.

A tranquil silence enveloped the bathroom as you continued the delicate task of removing the black paint from around his eyes. You leaned in closer, bringing your face to the same level as his, scrutinizing every inch to ensure no traces were left. Lost in your work, you meticulously examined his face until he gradually opened his eyes.

His gaze traced the contours of your face, locking onto your eyes, and you felt your cheeks heat up as your eyes met. Flustered by the sudden eye contact, you quickly straightened your posture, unable to hide the blush on your face.

"I-It's done, Papa," you stammered, still feeling bashful.

Copia got up and headed to the sink to examine himself in the mirror. "You cleaned it all, cuoricina," he exclaimed, his eyes reflecting appreciation. "You're a professional!"

"Papa..." you chuckled, "There's nothing professional about that."

Copia turned his face to you, revealing himself without the face paint for the first time. Even though you had only met him in person the day before, you had only seen him in pictures with the iconic Cardinal paint. Now, seeing him like this, your heart raced, your entire body tingled, and you couldn't help but flush. You felt tense and nervous in his presence, and as you stared at him, your feelings overwhelmed you.

Setting the dirty tissues on the sink's countertop, you moved toward the bathroom's door. However, before you could reach it, Copia gently caught your wrist, sending a wave of warmth and connection through your body. Slowly, you turned to face him, finding an apologetic look in his eyes.

"What's wrong, Papa?" you inquired, trying to conceal the flurry of emotions inside you.

"Did I... Did I say something that upset you?" he asked, concern etched in his features.

You hesitated before answering, "No."

He released your wrist and nodded, visibly relieved. "I thought I had... you were walking away."

You couldn't bring yourself to tell him the real reason you had been walking toward the door. It wasn't something he had done to upset you, but rather the effect he had on you, making you feel all giddy and nervous in his presence.

"It's late," you lied, trying to find an excuse. "I need to go back."

Copia nodded, understanding. "Eh... sì, sì, you are right," he agreed, turning off the bathroom lights and stepping closer to you. "You need to go back..." he repeated your words with a hint of sadness, his eyes conveying a reluctance to see you leave.

"Yes, Papa," you replied with a warm smile.

"Let me at least open the door for you, cuoricina," he said, rubbing his tired eyes.

Copia offered a kind smile and walked toward the door, and you followed closely behind with a hand resting on his back. He glanced at you over his shoulder, and his smile made you blush. Together, you completed the short walk to his front door. Copia stopped in front of it, opened the door, and stepped aside to allow you to pass. You removed your hand from his back and walked out of his chambers, turning to face him.

"Well, Papa, Goodni-"

Before you could finish your sentence, Copia leaned in with his eyes closed and planted a gentle, unexpected kiss on your lips. His hand tenderly cupped your cheek. Your eyes widened in surprise, and your body tensed, but you gradually relaxed, closing your eyes and cherishing the taste of wine on his lips. His lips seemed to carry the essence of every grape in the glasses of wine he had been consuming since lunch, and you couldn't help but find them intoxicating.

You found yourself frozen, not due to unwillingness, but because you were unsure of where to touch him or what to do next. Your entire body felt tense, and the few seconds that passed felt like an eternity. As Copia pulled back, you realized that the kiss had been brief, lasting only a few seconds. When you opened your eyes, you observed that his remained closed, as though he were savoring the moment or still enveloped in the sensation. Your gaze roamed over every contour of his face, lingering on his lips until his half-opened eyes met yours.

"Buonosera, cuoricina," he whispered with his voice low and a hint of huskiness in his tone.

"Goo-Goodnight... Papa..." you replied softly, gazing at him with a mix of emotions.

He nodded and stepped back into his chambers. You took a step back toward the door, and he closed it, but his eyes never left yours until the door finally shut, leaving you with a racing heart and a swirl of emotions.

You hurriedly left Copia's chambers door, the sensations of that brief yet intense moment with him still lingering in your mind. You walked back down the empty corridor, your thoughts swirling in a whirlwind of emotions.

Suddenly, you heard a door creaking open behind you, and your body froze. You quickly turned and sought cover against the marble walls, trying not to be seen. You held your breath, hoping to go unnoticed, but your curiosity got the better of you. You couldn't resist the urge to sneak a peek.

As you cautiously glanced down the corridor, you saw Copia standing in front of his door, his gaze shifting from side to side. Panic set in, and your nails nearly dug into the marble walls. Was he looking for you? Had he come out to find you? For a split second, you wrestled with the idea of going back to him, of seeking out that connection once more. But your courage faltered, and your feet refused to move. In an instant, he retreated into his chambers, closing the door behind him, and you finally allowed yourself to exhale, feeling the tension leave your body.

You reluctantly tore yourself away from the marble wall and returned to the main corridor. You found yourself lingering for a moment, gazing at his door, feeling torn between the desire to return and the understanding that it wasn't the right time.

Resigned to this decision, you turned away and continued your on your back to the Papal Apartment. As you walked, your mind raced with thoughts, but one thing remained crystal clear – the memory of his unexpected kiss.

Grammar

Piccola: Little one

Mio figlio ha bisogno di pannolini freschi, sì?: My son needs some fresh diapers, sì?

È stato buono, molto buono: It was good, very good

Molto bene: Very good

Per niente: Not at all

Lascia perdere: Never mind

Sì: Yes

Miei fratelli: My brothers

Lo so, lo so: I know, I know

Sono ancora qui: I'm still here

Non preoccuparti: Don't worry

Bella: Beautiful

Vecchi uomini: Old men

Guarda chi parla, il più anziano di tutti noi: Look who's talking, the oldest of all of us

Siamo tutti vecchi, Secondo: We are all old, Secondo

Beh, non mi considero un vecchio: Well, I don't consider myself an old man

Mia moglie mi fa sentire giovane. Noi-: My wife makes me feel young. We-

Scortese: Rude

Sono veramente orgoglioso di te: I'm really proud of you

Fratello mio: My brother

Niente più vino per te stasera: No more wine for you tonight

Hai bisogno di riposo, io ho bisogno di riposo, ne abbiamo tutti bisogno: You need rest, I need rest, we all need it

Buonanotte, fratello: Goodnight, brother

Mio stupido fratello: My stupid brother

Sì, quattro: Yes, four

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[hallowed-be-thy-username]

Oops I dropped this! Maybe you'd like to have it?

Some edging and rough sex with Terzo and a fem reader, homemade, explicit content below the cut

“Sei così buono per me.”

Terzo’s breath is hot on your ear, heavy with lust and broken by escaped whines of satisfaction.

You let out a low moan when his cock sinks deeper into your dripping entrance and his hand tightens its grip where it is braced across your abdomen from behind. He’s been fucking you agonizingly slowly, edging the both of you for only Lucifer knows how long now. His bare chest, slick with sweat, presses against your back while he grinds his hips against your ass and you both whine in desperation.

“Papa…” you groan, your fists clenched tightly around the curtains where he had you bent over the couch.

He moans as he deliberately pushes himself into you, approaching his last dregs of self restraint. “Sì, cara mia.”

You pant for air and reach behind you to grab a fistful of his hair, drawing out a sharp hiss from between his teeth that dissolves into a pleasured groan. “Please… I need you to fuck me…”

“I am fucking you, mia dolce,” he purrs, placing a kiss on the back of your neck while continuing the languid thrusting of his hips.

You hear him chuckle from behind you and you smile, laying your head back against his shoulder. This is his favorite game. Your hold on his hair tightens and you reply, “No. I need you to fuck me, Papa.”

A low hum rumbles in his chest and you can feel the muscles of his abdomen tighten. “Now, now, cara. What is the magic word?”

Your breath grows even heavier when his cock reaches as deep inside of you as it can go and he holds it there. You can feel it pulsing against your walls while he breathes down your neck, carrying your desire to new heights. You know he must be hanging on by a thread too, but he always manages to get you to succumb first. Bastard.

You shudder and whine loudly, “Please!”

“Please who?”

He his panting just as hard as you are, yet remains otherwise still as stone.

“Please, Papa!”

A deep growl meets the shell of your ear before Terzo pulls out and slams into you, falling into a merciless rhythm of fucking you with reckless with abandon. You both cry out in unison and hold onto each other tightly, desperate for air, but more desperate for release.

It takes only a moment for the wild sensation of your orgasm to spill over, forcing his name from your throat while you clench around his sensitized shaft. Terzo is pulled over the edge with you and his arms wrap around your middle to hold you close while hot ropes of cum fill your pussy.

His voice is raspy while he nuzzles his forehead against your temple, still inside you as he whispers praises in a mixture of Italian and broken English that send tingles back to your center already.

With his hand caressing your cheek, he purrs, “Mia regina. La mia sola ed unica.”

#papa emeritus iii #papa emeritus iii x reader #terzo #ghost fic #ghost fandom #explict #nsft #smutty fic #remember fiction is fiction #ghost fanfiction

[papesatan]

“Ero veramente un bambino difficile. Non è che non capissi le cose o facessi fatica ad apprendere. Era semplicemente che non riuscivo a star fermo più di cinque minuti… che più o meno era il mio massimo periodo di concentrazione. Finivo quasi sempre per essere espulso dalla classe. Fu lì che, dopo avermi visto quattro o cinque volte in corridoio, Mister Pigden si prese cura di me. M'insegnò tutto lui. Non solo la didattica, ma anche a controllarmi, a canalizzare la rabbia e a contare fino a dieci prima d’esplodere come facevo di solito. Io non lo so perché mi scelse, ma lo fece. Mi diede delle responsabilità. Ero io a dover raccogliere i registri degli insegnanti, io a controllare che tutti bevessero la loro razione di latte. Era davvero bello, semplicemente mi sentivo importante. Mi ha fatto capire che potevo servire a qualcosa. Era l’uomo più grande del mondo. Amo quell’uomo.”

Cresciuto senza padre e frequentemente abusato dal patrigno violento, Ian Wright (uno dei più grandi bomber della storia dell’Arsenal) descrive così il suo rapporto col maestro Sidney Pigden, l’uomo che in qualche modo ne mutò la vita. I due si rincontreranno solo nel 2005 e alla vista del vecchio maestro, Ian scoppierà a piangere, incredulo: “Non posso crederci… mi avevano detto che era morto”. Lo sguardo  svagato e smargiasso che cambia d’improvviso espressione, gli occhi che cercano disperata conferma, la sacra deferenza nel togliersi il cappello e, su tutto, la voce dolce e gentile del vecchio maestro che sembra provvedere ancora a quel bambino, al suo cuore smarrito, fissandolo intensamente come a dirgli: “Va tutto bene, sono qui e sono fiero di te”. Avrò guardato questo video centinaia di volte, di continuo, e ogni volta penso QUESTO, insegnare è questa cosa qui e non riesco a trattenere le lacrime, perché chissà se un giorno Rayan riuscirà a costruire il robot che ha in testa e ad aprire un negozio di elettronica, se Mirko diventerà papa Michele I, come tanto sogna, o Jacopo farà il calciatore, e incontrandoli, ormai anziano, si fermeranno a salutarmi, mi vedranno, ricorderanno tutto e allora saprò d’avergli lasciato qualcosa, una briciola di vita nel taschino, saprò d’esser stato un buon insegnante e non solo un freddo businessman, pronto a lucrare su asineria e ignoranza per vile tornaconto, ogni bambino una fattura. Non so se sarei in grado di fare ciò che ha fatto Mr. Pigden con Ian Wright, in un mondo, il mio mondo, in cui le mele marce si sostituiscono al primo morso, perché troppo dispendiose. Chissà se sono ancora capace d’insegnargli qualcosa di buono. Chissà cosa ricorderanno un giorno del loro folle tonto maestro.  

[larsisfrommars]

Wild Wild Reviews

The Night of The Inferno

Overall Score:

Story: 3/5

Dame: 4/5

Villain: 2/5

Gadgets: 5/5

Disguises: 2.5/5

Bonus Points: Gay Subtext: 1/5

The Yikes Dated Factor: -3/-5

Score: 14.5/25 (58%)

Tier: D

Next Review

FULL REVIEW UNDER CUT

The Story

It’s a pretty straight forward plot that introduces most of the core elements of the show fairly well. We’ve got our inflable and courageous James West, our over the top villains, our femme fatale and our gadgets but it feels as though the story is missing a limb. That limb of course is Artemus Gordon. Yes Ross Martin is there playing counterpart to Robert Conrad but he doesn’t really seem like the Artie we know and love yet. He’s less intelligent marvels at inventions that given the later context of the show he could’ve (and probably did) build himself, and lets Jim do the detective work. His disguises aren’t a big focus, and he’s noticeably more of a coward than he is later on. Luckily they fix all this almost immediately but between this and the casual early 60s racism this episode suffers a bit.

The Dame

Our woman of the week is Suzanne Pleshette!

Most of us young’uns know her as the witch Yubaba from Spirited Away and/or Zira from Lion King 2. However she was a very accomplished TV actress before that! I think she does a fantastic job as Lydia Monteran!

She and Jim have history which is always a fun gimmick, and certainly way more fleshed out than the parade of other women in this series. She’s got her own illegal business and lots of personality, a classic femme fatale. She just doesn’t have a lot in the way of complex/personal motivations and doesn’t really affect the plot with her direct actions, which is why she isn’t a perfect score.

The Villain

Our villains of the week are Nehemiah Persoff and Victor Buono!

Now I don’t know Persoff from anything other than Papa from American Tail. His character bordered on caricature/hammy but I am honestly shocked to say that he was WAY more entertaining to watch than Victor Buono of all people?! He was very animated and had a lot of fun lines. Meanwhile Buono (who I know as the unhinged King Tut from Batman) was both chronically underutilized and the crux of the more dated and problematic aspects of this installation of the series. Generally though these villains lacked the camp and ridiculous plans/motivations that I love the series for. So I’d say they’re a little subpar overall

The Gadgets

The gadgets were PHENOMENAL in this episode. If it has a real saving grace it’s the gizmos, a cornerstone of what makes this show work. We get an introduction to The Wanderer, West’s notorious toolbox boot heels, and a really fun Chekhov’s Gun scenario with the self-defense measures built into the billiards table! Excellent visuals and gimmicks that will carry on throughout the series.

The Disguises

The disguises were… eh. Which makes sense for the pilot but also it’s a shame, considering just how much it becomes an integral part of Ross Martin’s multi-faceted performance as Artemus Gordon. We get him as some sorta grave robber/carpet bagger that seems to exclusively exist to be silly at Jim’s expense, and a brief appearance as a Mexican beggar. Only one really makes sense for the story and we see it for all of two seconds.

The Gay Subtext

(Don’t ship it? Skip it!)

So long as Artemus and Jim are in an episode together the Gay score will never be 0. That being said they haven’t established a rapport, or even Artemus as a solid character yet. So is absolutely bottom rung for subtext in a given episode to me. Artemus frets over Jim a little and musters up his courage in spooky environs but that’s about it.

The Yikes Dated Factor

I’m giving this a solid -3 because yes there are more sexist/racist episodes than this but there are also LESS racist/sexist episodes of this show than this one. The only reason this doesn’t get a worse score for the yellow face is because it was part of the villain’s ploy, so they technically didn’t have a white man playing a Chinese guy. It was a white guy pretending to be Mexican pretending to be Chinese, which is almost funny, almost. But then, we got a couple white guys playing Mexicans which (there are plenty of people in the Latine diaspora who are white.) still runs into caricature and colorism issues. The baddies are all foreigners sometimes pretending to be different foreigners with some casual orientalism. But hey! At least the Spanish wasn’t gibberish!

#the wild Wild West #Wild Wild West #James west #Jim west #Artemus Gordon #Ross Martin #Robert Conrad #suzanne pleshette #nehemiah persoff #victor buono #James west/artemus Gordon #the night of the inferno #tnot inferno #s01x01 #episode review #tv review #1960s #1960s tv #1960s television #vintage tv #vintage television #vintage tv review #meta #meta analysis

[zadigo]

Il Papa in Ungheria: «No alla via nefasta della cultura gender e del diritto all’aborto» - L'Unione Sarda.it

Il papa buono, più buono di quello che già era buono.

[toscanoirriverente]

Piccola radiografia del pacifismo italico

… I cattolici

In questi mesi hanno oscillato parecchio, in sintonia con Papa Francesco. Il quale, per tutta la prima fase della guerra, ha fatto appello a Putin e a Zelensky come se fossero due belligeranti di pari grado e pari intenzioni bellicose, per di più il primo provocato dall’”abbaiare della Nato ai confini russi”. L’appoggio totale del Patriarca Kirill all’invasione russa, giustificata come missione sacra, l’accanimento barbaro contro la popolazione civile, l’appello di Putin a unirsi in crociata contro “l’Occidente satanico” hanno visibilmente spostato la posizione di Papa Francesco, come documentato dal drammatico discorso dell’Angelus del 2 ottobre: “la martoriata Ucraina” sta ora al centro di ogni sua presa di posizione.

D’altronde la Dottrina della Chiesa, sintetizzata nel Catechismo della Chiesa Cattolica, dedica alla “legittima difesa” i paragrafi dal 2263 al 2267.

Il n. 2265 afferma: “La legittima difesa, oltre che un diritto, può essere anche un grave dovere, per chi è responsabile della vita di altri. La difesa del bene comune esige che si ponga l'ingiusto aggressore in stato di non nuocere. A questo titolo, i legittimi detentori dell'autorità hanno il diritto di usare anche le armi per respingere gli aggressori della comunità civile affidata alla loro responsabilità”. Dunque, diritto/dovere di resistenza, così da porre “l'ingiusto aggressore in stato di non nuocere".  

Al punto 2309 sono indicate le condizioni, alle quali è legittima una difesa militare: “Si devono considerare con rigore le strette condizioni che giustificano una legittima difesa con la forza militare. Tale decisione, per la sua gravità, è sottomessa a rigorose condizioni di legittimità morale. Occorre contemporaneamente:

che il danno causato dall'aggressore alla nazione o alla comunità delle nazioni sia durevole, grave e certo;

che tutti gli altri mezzi per porvi fine si siano rivelati impraticabili o inefficaci;

che ci siano fondate condizioni di successo;

che il ricorso alle armi non provochi mali e disordini più gravi del male da eliminare. Nella valutazione di questa condizione ha un grandissimo peso la potenza dei moderni mezzi di distruzione.

Questi sono gli elementi tradizionali elencati nella dottrina detta della ‘guerra giusta’.

La valutazione di tali condizioni di legittimità morale spetta al giudizio prudente di coloro che hanno la responsabilità del bene comune”.

Fin qui il Catechismo.

Allora, perché molti firmatari cattolici di molti Appelli si pongono invece nel mezzo tra Putin e Zelensky, negando però l’invio di armi agli Ucraini, di fatto esponendoli alla violenza bruta di un invasore?

La prima ragione è di tipo teo-ideologico: hanno semplicemente dimenticato “il peccato originale”, cioè lo sguardo realistico sull’uomo e sulla storia degli uomini, che è tipico della grande teologia patristica. Sant’Agostino scrive di “natura sauciata”, “ferita” dal peccato originale. Nell’antropologia cristiana è prevista la compresenza attiva del Bene e del Male nel cuore dell’uomo, anche se ottimisticamente il Male non vincerà, alla fine della Storia. Nelle religioni sumero-babilonesi e in Zoroastro, invece, si dà una contrapposizione metafisica eterna tra il Bene e il Male. A quanto pare, per il cristianesimo rousseauiano dei pacifisti l’Uomo è buono, la società è cattiva, soprattutto se fondata sul mercato capitalistico, di cui il commercio delle armi è solo una conseguenza. Se elimini il commercio delle armi, fiorirà la pace. Se poi elimini il capitalismo, allora sì, “Pacem in terris”! Peccato che il commercio delle armi nasca dalla guerra, non viceversa: la guerra che attraversa il cuore dell’uomo. Aboliamo la guerra? Certo. Straordinaria utopia, la cui realizzazione implica semplicemente un salto quantico morale nell’evoluzione della specie. Possibile? Sì, a condizione che l’utopia non diventi un alibi per chiudere gli occhi sull’aggressore di oggi.

Secondo alcuni, la colpa è, più radicalmente, del capitalismo, che ha sviluppato gli animal instintcs dell’uomo.  Detto in inglese, non per caso!

Tocchiamo la seconda ragione, più politico-ideologica: l’antimericanismo. Ha radici profonde nel mondo cattolico. Fin dal Sillabo del 1864 il liberalismo di origine anglo-sassone è una delle eresie condannabili insieme al socialismo e al comunismo. Il mondo anglosassone viene fatto coincidere con il protestantesimo, nemico della Chiesa cattolica. Così, ancora tra gli anni ’20 e ‘30, il Vaticano appoggia e si mischia con i regimi clerico-fascisti europei e latino-americani e diffida delle democrazie liberali. L’antiamericanismo si condensa politicamente nel 1949, in occasione della discussione in Parlamento sull’adesione dell’Italia alla Nato. Dall’11 al 20 marzo, in una seduta lunga ben 51 ore, caratterizzata da risse mai viste, l’adesione fu approvata, ma Dossetti, Gronchi, Gui erano fermamente contrari, così come lo stesso Mons. Montini, tutti su una posizione neutralista. Fu Pio XII a tagliare la testa al toro, in nome della difesa militare contro il comunismo ateo. Difficile indicare esattamente attraverso quali linee di discendenza personale questa posizione sia arrivata fino ai giorni nostri. Si allude genericamente al filone catto-comunista. In ogni caso, è questo filone l’erede oggettivo del neutralismo del secondo dopo-guerra.

I pacifisti di sinistra…

Se molti pacifisti cattolici conservano uno storico pre-giudizio negativo contro gli Americani, molti pacifisti di sinistra ne hanno uno positivo verso l’Unione sovietica/Russia. Che non significa esprimere una valutazione positiva dell’esperienza del “socialismo reale”. Continuano, però, a ritenere che la rivoluzione bolscevica abbia spezzato, una volta per sempre, l’ordine imperialistico e colonialistico mondiale, rappresentato nel ’17 dagli Inglesi, dai Tedeschi, dai Francesi e nel secondo dopoguerra dagli Americani. Un semplice esercizio mentale di contro-storia potrebbe far immaginare uno scenario in cui in Russia avesse vinto il socialdemocratico Kerenskij, l’Assemblea costituente già votata non fosse stata sciolta da Lenin… Come reazione ad una Russia democratica sarebbero insorti il fascismo e il nazismo? In ogni caso, alla Russia di Putin si continua ad attribuire la funzione weltgeschichtlich di Lenin. Alle spalle sta un giudizio inappellabile sugli Americani come ���imperialisti”. Se non si può certificare che il pregiudizio filo-sovietico, coltivato anche da chi all’interno del PCI era antileninista e riformista, si sia trasformato, per inerzia storica, in pregiudizio filo-Putin, si deve certo constatare la continuità dell’antimericanismo storico della sinistra socialista e comunista del ’48. Dunque: magari non più filo-sovietici e, tampoco, filo-russi, ma certamente e indefettibilmente anti-americani. E poiché questi sono anche gli alfieri del modello di sviluppo capitalistico mondiale, che sta mettendo il pianeta a mal partito e che è stato adottato anche dal resto del mondo, Cina compresa, al pacifismo antiamericano si è aggiunto quello di origine ecologista. Se poi sopra vi si sparge lo zucchero a velo della rivolta ideologica woke contro l’Occidente imperialistico, colonialista, razzista, la torta é perfetta: il nemico siamo noi!

Il pacifismo bianco-rosso-bruno

In questi giorni, tanto le posizioni dei cattolici quanto quelle di sinistra quanto quelle “brune” alla Veneziani si sono fuse in un Manifesto, intitolato “Un negoziato credibile per fermare la guerra”, firmato da Antonio Baldassarre, Pietrangelo Buttafuoco, Massimo Cacciari, Franco Cardini, Agostino Carrino, Francesca Izzo, Mauro Magatti, Eugenio Mazzarella, Giuseppe Vacca, Marcello Veneziani, Stefano Zamagni.

I punti: 1) neutralità di un’Ucraina che entri nell’Ue, ma non nella Nato, secondo l’impegno riconosciuto, anche se solo verbale, degli Usa alla Russia di Gorbaciov dopo la caduta del Muro e lo scioglimento unilaterale del Patto di Varsavia; 2) concordato riconoscimento dello status de facto della Crimea, tradizionalmente russa e illegalmente “donata” da Krusciov alla Repubblica Sovietica Ucraina; 3) autonomia delle regioni russofone di Lugansk e Donetsk entro l’Ucraina secondo i Trattati di Minsk, con reali garanzie europee o in alternativa referendum popolari sotto la supervisione Onu; 4) definizione dello status amministrativo degli altri territori contesi del Donbass per gestire il melting pot russo-ucraino che nella storia di quelle regioni si è dato ed eventualmente con la creazione di un ente paritario russo-ucraino che gestisca le ricchezze minerarie di quelle zone nel loro reciproco interesse; 5) simmetrica de-escalation delle sanzioni europee e internazionali e dell’impegno militare russo nella regione; 6) piano internazionale di ricostruzione dell’Ucraina.

Si tratta di un manifesto senza verità storica e perciò anche senza giustizia.

Che la Russia abbia aggredito l’Ucraina, viene riconosciuto, ma non spiegato alla luce del disegno geopolitico che parte da lontano e che Putin non ha mai nascosto.  Quanto alla Crimea, la Storia ci avverte che il 1º dicembre 1991 si svolse il referendum sull’indipendenza dell’Ucraina, richiesto dal Parlamento ucraino per confermare “l'Atto di Indipendenza”, adottato dal Parlamento stesso il 24 agosto 1991.

Al referendum votarono 31.891.742 (l'84.18% dei residenti); 28.804.071 (il 90.32%) votarono "Sì". Nella maggioranza degli Oblast le percentuali andarono oltre il 90%, anche in quelle a melting pot a prevalenza russofono; in due o tre “soltanto” sopra il 75/80%. In Crimea – “regalata” da Krusciov alla Repubblica socialista sovietica ucraina il 17 giugno 1954 - la percentuale si fermò al 54,19%. Ma a Sebastopoli salì al 57% e a Odessa salì all’85%. Perché questa differenza della Crimea? Il 18 maggio del 1944 Stalin fece deportare l’intera popolazione tatara, che è la risultante dell’intreccio di molte etnie – circa 200 mila persone – verso l’Uzbekistan, il Kazakistan e altre località. Anche la comunità italiana fu deportata. L’accusa e la punizione: per collaborazionismo con i Tedeschi. Politica che Stalin ha praticato con ferocia anche nelle Repubbliche baltiche. I deportati morirono dal 30% al 46%, a seconda delle fonti statistiche. I sopravvissuti poterono tornare solo dopo il 1989, grazie a Gorbaciov. Intanto, Stalin ripopolò la Crimea di etnia russa. Ecco spiegato il mistero.

Il testo del Manifesto sostiene che la Crimea fu regalata illegalmente all’Ucraina. In base a quale criterio si definisce illegale la donazione, dentro un sistema dove non c’era nessuna legalità nei rapporti tra le Repubbliche? Se le linee di confine tra gli Stati sono definite da quelle etniche, la Crimea non è mai stata russa. Se sono definite dai Trattati e dai riconoscimenti internazionali – cioè dal Diritto internazionale – allora la Crimea è stata russa solo dal 1921 fino al 1991, quando se n’è andata insieme all’Ucraina. Le uniche linee di confine che contano tra gli Stati sono quelle stabilite dai Trattati. Così il 5 dicembre del 1994 venne firmato – non solo detto a voce, come sostiene per ignoranza o malafede il Manifesto succitato - il Memorandum di Budapest, in cui la Russia, gli Stati Uniti e la Gran Bretagna – successivamente vi si aggiunsero anche Cina e Francia – garantivano sicurezza, indipendenza e integrità territoriale dell’Ucraina, in cambio della sua rinuncia alle armi nucleari: ne aveva 1800! Nel 1997, a Parigi, la Russia e la Nato firmano l’Atto fondativo, in cui Mosca accetta l’espansione della Nato a Est, in cambio di una rinuncia della Nato a dispiegare “forze da combattimento significative” e a schierare armi nucleari nell’Europa orientale.

Il testo del Manifesto dimentica poi di dire che Putin ha annesso illegalmente, lui sì!, la Crimea nel 2015 ed ha scatenato la guerriglia civile nel Donbass.

Quanto al pericolo nucleare, la cui minaccia è agitata da Putin per piegare gli Ucraini e chiunque li aiuti, il Manifesto dimentica che dal 1949 in avanti la pace atomica nel mondo è stata garantita dalla MAD (Mutual Assured Destruction), che continua a funzionare come garanzia reciproca. Piacerebbe tanto poter fondare la convivenza dei popoli su fondamenta mento terribili, ma queste esistono e non consentono a nessuno di ricattare ogni altro. Eccetto, si intende, i nostri ricattabilissimi intellettuali.

… i pacifisti di destra

A destra si collocano gli eredi ideologici – consapevoli? - di Terza posizione, fondata nel 1978, che si dichiarava equidistante sia dal comunismo sia dal capitalismo imperialista.

I loro attuali eredi sostengono posizioni suprematiste, xenofobe, ultranazionaliste, teocratiche. La vicinanza con l’ideologia di Putin e del Patriarca Kirill è evidente.

Chi sono gli eredi? Intanto i gruppuscoli della galassia estrema, che ha come riferimento Fratelli d’Italia, anche se, nel caso specifico, non si riconoscono nell’atlantismo di Giorgia Meloni.

E poi Salvini. Che è filo-putiniano per comune ostilità putiniana alla democrazia liberale e per interessi “commerciali” più immediati. Si deve solo ricordare che, in occasione dell’annessione della Crimea, il Consiglio regionale della Lombardia e quello del Veneto hanno votato mozioni a favore dell’annessione. Esiste una base socio-culturale profonda del pacifismo neutralista leghista: il sovranismo. Che consiste nello starsene alla larga dalla storia del mondo, qualsiasi cosa accada dentro il quadro geopolitico-mondiale. Rispecchia una mentalità italiana, cresciuta negli anni, fatta di disinteresse, di egoismo provinciale, che non ritiene che ciò che succede nelle capitali estere possa/debba toccarci.

Quanto a Berlusconi è filo-putiniano per interessi commerciali e per nostalgia senile. Come dimenticare il suo ruolo giocato il 28 maggio 2002, quando nella base dell’aeronautica militare italiana di Pratica di Mare, vicino a Roma, furono firmati degli accordi fra la Russia e la NATO, quando Berlusconi  “costrinse” Bush jr. e Putin a darsi la mano? Certo lui non dimentica. Si vanta di “aver posto fine  a 50 anni di guerra fredda”. Che, ad onor del vero, aveva incominciato a finire sulle rive del lago di Ginevra nel gennaio 1985, con la passeggiata di Reagan e Gorbaciov, che fu ratificata il 29 maggio 1988 con la firma del Trattato INF e che finì, oggettivamente, con lo scioglimento dell’URSS l’8 dicembre 1991.

Tutti questi strati di pacifismo hanno in comune una piattaforma:

fermare la guerra, negando i mezzi agli Ucraini per opporsi militarmente all’esercito invasore;

concedere a Putin la parte già occupata: Crimea e Donbass.

Si tratta delle stesse condizioni che Putin stesso pone per smettere.

Come ci si possa interporre tra due belligeranti, assumendo integralmente le pretese di una parte, si dovrebbe chiedere ai catto-pacifisti, a Conte, alla sinistra radicale e a quella parte di PD che lo seguirà in piazza, ai catto-rosso-bruni, tutti in piazza il 5 novembre prossimo per la pace.

Come si possa essere ciechi di fronte alla guerra di liberazione nazionale degli Ucraini si dovrebbe chiedere:

a tutti coloro che hanno giustamente sfilato per decenni contro la violazione della sovranità nazionale degli Stati, operata a turno dalle Potenze grandi e piccole;

a tutti coloro che agitano il vessillo sovranista.

Le condizioni possibili per la pace sono molto semplici:

i Russi se ne devono tornare oltre confine;

la sicurezza della Russia deve essere costruita nell’ambito di Trattati di sicurezza collettiva, quale quello siglato a Pratica di Mare nel Maggio 2002, regnante Berlusconi, violato da Putin con l’invasione della Georgia nel 2008, con l’intervento in Siria, con l’annessione della Crimea il 20 febbraio 2014 e del Donbass  a fine settembre 2022. Nel luglio del 1878 la Conferenza di Berlino, convocata da Bismarck, sistemò con una seri di Trattati di assicurazione e di contro-assicurazione le relazioni tra tutte le Potenze europee. La pace durò fino al 1914. Occorre riprendere Pratica di Mare.

Le questioni interne dell’Ucraina vanno lasciate agli Ucraini, con eventuali garanzie internazionali per le minoranze. L’accordo De Gasperi-Gruber del 1946 continua ad essere un modello valido ancora oggi per gestire, all’interno di uno Stato, la presenza di una minoranza etnica. Far saltare i confini di diritto internazionale per seguire i meandri delle linee etniche dentro ogni singolo Stato sovrano porta alle pulizie etniche, ai massacri balcanici dei non lontani anni ’90 del secolo scorso.

#pacifisti #Ucraina #pacifinti #chiesa cattolica #comunisti #fascisti #destra de noantri #sinistra de noatri #rossobruni #Russia #Putin

[muutos]

🍭 @p0pestar !

"buono sera, papa." his smile is somehow sultry, even when showing his teeth. sparkling, a chuckle that is silent accompanies.

hidden in the shadows, nursing goblet. earrings of silver sway upon his ears, &. his uniform cassock is on properly despite the additions to uniform in facial makeup. "is it true what they say about you &. the siblings of sin? i do not tend to believe the clucking of gossip from hens in rossetto nero, ah? so... i have waited for the source."

#p0pestar #03. thread — * alessi biviano-rossi. #07. ghost verse — * alessi biviano-rossi.

[michelangelob]

18 marzo 1508: viene inaugurato il Giulio II in bronzo

Obbligato dalle circostanze ad andare a Bologna per chiedere perdono al papa, appena arrivato al suo cospetto Giulio II invece di farmi tornare a lavorare alla sua sepoltura, mi commissionò una enorme scultura in bronzo che lo ritraesse. A Bologna non ero da solo. Avevo al mio fianco tre validi collaboratori: Pietro Urbano, Ludovico del Buono e Lapo d’Antonio. Di soldi ce n’era pochi e così…

View On WordPress

#accadde oggi #antonietta bandelloni #arte #bellezza #Bologna #Michelangelo Buonarroti #rinascimento #San Petronio #scultura

[vecchiodimerda]

Christian Raimo

Ho fondato una piccola società, la ReichRaimo, che si occuperà soprattutto di consulenza editoriale e di formazione.

E dal primo dicembre parte il primo corso intitolato Come odiare i giovani.

Sarà rivolto a tutti, e sarà articolato in quattordici incontri, con orari che cambiano dall'uno all'altro. Si svolgerà sia in presenza che online e costerà 129 euro.

Per l'iscrizione si può scrivere a [email protected]

Questi i temi degli incontri.

1. Il 1868 è più importante del 1968, con Ernesto Galli della Loggia. Riscoprire la fondazione dell’Azione cattolica da parte di Papa Pio IX con il breve pontificio Dum filii Belial. Per un nuovo nazionalismo nella scuola improntato sulla restaurazione della dinastia Meiji in Giappone. Analisi dei testi del cancelliere Bismarck sul cambiamento climatico.

2. Dove va il potere: capirlo un attimo prima. Dibattito con Gianni Riotta e Bruno Vespa, sul futuro dei media e del mercato immobiliare.

3. Vale la pena di fare la punta al cazzo anche se si parla di un massacro, a cura del Novum Consortium Italianae Stampae. Imparare a usare i social come farebbero i monaci cluniacensi, usando il tempo libero della pensione o della disoccupazione per emendare articoli politici sui temi chiave solo sulla base di alcune concordanze grammaticali ambigue o per i font senza grazie usati (si dice la font!)

4. Il capitalismo buono è proprio buono buono buono, con Francesco Giubilei e Fabio Roscani. Riproposizione della conferenza che non si è potuta tenere alla facoltà di Scienze politiche a Roma per il boicottaggio dei centri sociali organizzati. Storytelling dell’accumulo originario. Nuove liturgie preconciliari per il feticcio delle merci.

5. Camerati che sbaglicchiano, con Walter Veltroni. Come rinarrare la violenza dei terroristi neofascisti in chiave pop, con dei bei fumetti anche. Laboratorio artistico in classe sull’utopia Nar.

6. Il colonialismo che non ci è stato insegnato, con Marco Minniti. Per un nuovo turismo consapevole, permanente, fondativo. Alla scoperta virtuale delle strade che gli abbiamo fatto senza pretendere nemmeno un grazie.

7. L’omicidio stradale dei manifestanti ecologisti va completamente depenalizzato, con Matteo Piantedosi. A seguire pillole comiche sui pestaggi di Genova 2001 a cura di Pino Insegno.

8. L’istruzione tecnico militare per un paese che cambia. Tavola Rotonda con Patrizio Bianchi, Luciano Leonardo Violante, Guido Crosetto e Giuseppe Valditara. Presentazione del progetto sperimentale di alternanza scuola lavoro come guardie per i campi di detenzione in Libia.

9. Arbasino generator. Laboratorio dal vivo con la redazione del Foglio per imparare a passare pezzi su qualunque argomento riempendoli di aggettivi eterodossi, locuzioni ammiccanti, sigle in inglese, battute sui vestiti e i capelli, diminuitivi in -elli.

10. Vendicarsi del senso di morte imminente, con Angelo Panebianco. Come scrivere gli editoriali per il Corriere mi ha sollevato dai momenti di solitudine e smarrimento di fronte alla vecchiaia, anche poi mi sono dimenticato delle analisi da fare e di portare fuori il cane che mi ha pisciato in salotto.

11. Il femminismo me lo attacco al cazzo, a cura della Libreria di tutti. Per un femminismo politically uncorrect che possa essere libero di dire la propria su aborto, orientamento sessuale, identità di genere e frocette della minchia, con la possibilità di cambiare idea anche da un giorno all’altro e di prendersi tre mesi di vacanza se si è stanche che sono almeno due anni che non mi faccio una vacanza come si deve.

12. Ridere forte dello schwa, con Massimo Arcangeli. Imparare lo gné gné nell’autoscoscienza collettiva, condividere le pratiche del darsi di gomito dal vivo e in rete.

13. La competenza, il liberalsocialismo di Carlo Rosselli e il fatto che mio figlio mi fa sempre più sclerare e quindi vanno cambiate e subito alcune leggi dello Stato perché non può tornare sempre alle due e lasciare la camera una merda: ted talk con Carlo Calenda.

14. Il fascismo è stato brutto, con Antonio Scurati. Lettura integrale dei tre volumi di M, a seguire esegesi passo passo da parte dell’autore.

#vdm

[lamilanomagazine]

Veglia di Pasqua, Papa Francesco: «Desideri di pace spezzati dalla crudeltà dell’odio»

Veglia di Pasqua, Papa Francesco: «Desideri di pace spezzati dalla crudeltà dell’odio». Papa Francesco, che venerdì sera aveva deciso di non recarsi alla Via crucis al Colosseo, ha presieduto, nella Basilica di San Pietro, la Veglia pasquale. Entrato sulla sedia a rotelle, è stato poi aiutato a mettersi su una sedia. Il rito è iniziato nell'atrio con la benedizione del fuoco e la preparazione del cero pasquale. «La Pasqua fa rotolare via i macigni della morte», ha ricordato il Pontefice nella sua omelia. «A volte sentiamo che una pietra tombale è stata pesantemente poggiata all'ingresso del nostro cuore, soffocando la vita, spegnendo la fiducia, imprigionandoci nel sepolcro delle paure e delle amarezze, bloccando la via verso la gioia e la speranza», ha detto Papa Francesco. «Sono “macigni della morte” - ha sottolineato il Pontefice - e li incontriamo, lungo il cammino, in tutte quelle esperienze e situazioni che ci rubano l'entusiasmo e la forza di andare avanti: nelle sofferenze che ci toccano e nelle morti delle persone care, che lasciano in noi vuoti incolmabili; nei fallimenti e nelle paure che ci impediscono di compiere quanto di buono abbiamo a cuore; in tutte le chiusure che frenano i nostri slanci di generosità e non ci permettono di aprirci all'amore; nei muri di gomma dell'egoismo e dell'indifferenza, che respingono l'impegno a costruire città e società più giuste e a misura d'uomo; in tutti gli aneliti di pace spezzati dalla crudeltà dell'odio e dalla ferocia della guerra». Probabilmente la decisione di riposare ieri sera, presa in extremis «per conservare la salute in vista della Veglia di domani e della Santa Messa della domenica di Pasqua», come ha comunicato la Sala stampa vaticana, ha deposto a favore di un minore stress fisico e di una migliore prevenzione dei malanni di stagione, che negli ultimi tempi hanno un po’ perseguitato l'87enne Pontefice. Del resto anche l'anno scorso Francesco aveva disertato la Via Crucis al Colosseo, causa il «freddo intenso», anche se con un maggior preavviso fin dal primo pomeriggio. Domani Bergoglio celebrerà la Messa di Pasqua nella Basilica di San Pietro e impartirà la benedizione Urbi et Orbi.... #notizie #news #breakingnews #cronaca #politica #eventi #sport #moda Read the full article

[evatremila]

Damiano Carrara, un 2024 da papà: Chiara Maggenti è in dolce attesa, dopo Pechino Express il pasticciere avrà un figlio «Eccoci qua, finalmente. Siamo tornati per l’assaggio di un dolcino nuovo, molto, molto, buono. Direi più che altro speciale, molto speciale. Questo è il calzino del bimbo, o della bimba insomma. Questa è la novità, la grande novità». Con u... Continua a leggere.. https://www.eva3000.com/damiano-carrara-un-2024-da-papa-chiara-maggenti-e-in-dolce-attesa-dopo-pechino-express-il-pasticciere-avra-un-figlio/?feed_id=5080&_unique_id=65fd734faca0b

#Ultimora #damianocarrara #pechinoexpress

[boomerissimo]

Clint Eastwood e Giovanni Paolo II: duello mancato tra il buono e il Santo

Il duello impossibile 🛑 Cos’è successo tra Clint e il Papa 🇬🇧 🇫🇷 🇪🇸 🇩🇪 🇮🇱 🇨🇳 translation on site👇 #boomerissimo #clinteastwood #giovannipaoloii #karolwojtyla #cinema #UnoCInema

Clint Eastwood si è trovato di fronte personaggi di ogni genere, affrontati ed abbattuti a colpi di fucile, 44 magnum o a pugni. Ma trovarsi davanti ad un Santo richiede ben altre armi. Quando si sorpassano i 90 anni e ci si chiama Clint Eastwood si può ben essere certi di far parte della storia. Clint Eastwood e Giovanni Paolo II – Boomerissimo.it Dai primi ruoli negli anni Cinquanta ad oggi,…

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#anni80 #boomerissimo #cinema #clint eastwood #Papa Giovanni Paolo II

[anticattocomunismo]

Il Papa e i gay: quando il "bene" è ridotto a sentimento

Nell’ultima intervista il Pontefice ritorna sulle benedizioni alle coppie omosessuali: nessuno scandalo, conta l’affetto. Ma non ogni affetto è buono, a meno di elevare l’emotività a metro di giudizio. Continue reading Il Papa e i gay: quando il “bene” è ridotto a sentimento

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#Apostasia #Bergoglio #bergoglionate #bergoglionismos #cattivi maestri #falsi profeti #Fiducia Supplicans #fumo di satana #idiozie clericali #omoeresia #papa Francesco #sedicenti cattolici #spirito del concilio