#the papal audience

[mollymarymarie]

Reading Dear Your Holiness in the papal audience

wait WHAT REALLY

[deadpresidents]

which president met the most popes-john paul 2?

Yes, it's Pope John Paul II.

The first incumbent President to meet a Pope was Woodrow Wilson, who met Pope Benedict XV at the Vatican in 1919, so Presidents have really only been meeting with Popes for the past 100 years. So Pope John Paul II basically reigned as Pope for a quarter of the time (26+ years) that Presidents have been meeting with them.

But despite the length of John Paul II's reign, he didn't meet with significantly more Presidents than some of the other Popes. John Paul II met with five incumbent Presidents during his reign: Jimmy Carter, Ronald Reagan, George H.W. Bush, Bill Clinton, and George W. Bush (he also met future President Joe Biden when Biden was a U.S. Senator). Pope Paul VI, who was Pope from 1963-1978, met with four incumbent Presidents: John F. Kennedy, Lyndon B. Johnson, Richard Nixon, and Gerald Ford. John Paul II would have probably met more Presidents if not for the fact that Reagan and Clinton were both re-elected and served the full eight years in office (Bush 43 was also re-elected, but John Paul II died just a few months into his second term).

Here's a full list of which incumbent Presidents met with which Popes:

•Pope Benedict XV [1]: Woodrow Wilson (1919) •Pope John XXIII [1]: Dwight D. Eisenhower (1959) •Pope Paul VI [4]: John F. Kennedy (1963); Lyndon B. Johnson (1965 & 1967--a meeting which featured one of my favorite Presidential stories ever); Richard Nixon (1969 & 1970); Gerald Ford (1975) •Pope John Paul II [5]: Jimmy Carter (1979 & 1980); Ronald Reagan (1982, 1984, & 1987); George H.W. Bush (1989 & 1991); Bill Clinton (1993, 1994, 1995, & 1999); George W. Bush (2001, 2002, & 2004) [John Paul II also met future Presidents George H.W. Bush during Bush's Vice Presidency and Joe Biden while Biden was a Senator.] •Pope Benedict XVI [2]: George W. Bush (2007 & 2008); Barack Obama (2009) [Benedict XVI also met future President Joe Biden during his Vice Presidency.] •Pope Francis [3]: Barack Obama (2014 & 2015); Donald Trump (2017); Joe Biden (2021) [Francis also met future President Biden on three occasions during Biden's Vice Presidency.]

Interestingly, Pope Pius IX, who reigned from 1846-1878 -- long before the United States formally established permanent diplomatic relations with the Holy See -- also met four Presidents during his reign (more than any Pope other than John Paul II), but they were all either former or future Presidents. Pius IX met former Presidents Martin Van Buren and Millard Fillmore in 1855 when they visited Rome (separately) and former President Franklin Pierce when he visited Rome in November 1857. And Pius IX met future President Theodore Roosevelt in December 1869 when Roosevelt's family visited the Vatican. Theodore Roosevelt is actually the only person who served as President known to have kissed the ring of a Pope -- even though Roosevelt wasn't Catholic and was only 11 years old. Former President Ulysses S. Grant met Pope Leo XIII in 1878 when visiting the Vatican during his post-Presidential world tour.

[eslamdiab]

Vatican Papal Audience Tour – Connection to Spirituality

The spiritual journey of the Vatican Papal Audience tour and the Papal Basilica & Papal Tombs is one of the rare and unique opportunities you are missing.

[ghulehunknown]

And He Sees Nothing Wrong With That

Terzo x F Reader

“You know you need to be punished for being too seducente”

Flashback Friday! Bringing back one of my first ever fics from AO3 and posting it here

Summary: Jealousy plagues Terzo’s mind after an unproductive and frustrating clergy meeting, and he sets out to prove you are his.

CW/Tags: sexual innuendo and humor, dry humping, oral sex (F receiving), public oral sex, vaginal fingering, light dom/sub, light degradation, light possessive behavior, spanking, established relationship, porn with plot

Word Count: 2.5K

On Saturday you headed into the chapel for a large meeting with Papa and several members of the clergy. You would finally be discussing the details of the next ritual installments.

During the first meeting of the day, Copia and one of the bishops kept staring at you and whispering to each other. Copia stole quick glances in your direction over and over. You quickly straightened the veil of your habit, feeling self conscious. Maybe they weren’t talking about you? You weren’t wearing anything revealing that day, your veil wasn’t out of place…So what could it be? You never had much interaction with the Cardinal before. You didn’t intend to return the looks but you couldn’t help your eyes darting back and forth through the pews to make sure if he was actually looking or not.

Terzo noticed this right away, and looked between you two while he was at the pulpit speaking. He paused momentarily, as he caught Copia’s eyes, then resumed speaking. “Ah sì, the fucking tour…” he trailed off, flipping through pages. “It’s going to be called the…” he traced his fingers along the paper and tapped it once he found the words. “Ah dio mio who wrote this shit?!”

You saw Copia frown a little and cross his arms. Slightly disgruntled, Terzo continued. “It’s the fucking Popestar Tour.” He gestured to himself, almost sarcastically showing off his full Papal regalia, and giving a little curtsy.

“I’m sorry, the Fucking Popestar Tour - are we fucking the audience now?” one of the other cardinals called out, garnering a few snickers from the clergy.

“What?” said Terzo.

Omega crumpled up his papers into a ball from the back pew and threw it at that cardinal’s head, nailing his target perfectly. The cardinal turned around to the ghoul, making foul gestures with his hands and cursing Satan’s name at him.

“Actually that’s a good idea!” piped up Copia for the first time in an hour, leaning forward in the front pew. That smart fucker, you thought. Pretend to sing praises of your Papa in front of the whole clergy while tearing him apart. He continued to glance towards you. You instinctively looked in his direction, now trying to warn him off from going any further, but he continued. “Papa Emeritus, we can barely afford these garments,” he said gesturing to Terzo’s robes. “Accounting is stretched thin, so we really should be thinking of ways to generate profit.”

Terzo shot a dark look in Copia’s direction, quickly shutting the Cardinal up. “Sì sì, like we have the time to line them up outside in the parking lot,” Terzo mused sarcastically. “You know,” he quipped, pointing his finger at Copia, boasting, “the shows have gotten bigger since I became Papa.” He glanced back at you and then to the audience.

“That’s perfect!” exclaimed one of the bishops. “Take a ride on the Pope - we’ll add it to the meet and greet experience!” (“Cazzo, that’s not what I meant,” said Terzo, though it fell on deaf ears.) The bishop clasped his hands together. “Hey, get HR on this immediately. Tack on an extra fifty euros to the regular meet and greet,” he murmured to the sister sitting next to him, who began scribbling on her clipboard. The rest of the audience murmured in agreement.

“Fifty…?” you could see Terzo mouth the words incredulously.

“Yes but how do we implement the fucking?” the sister asked. “Imperator will want to know the details.”

“Do we provide the condoms or does the audience?” someone else asked.

“Who said we’re using condoms?” shouted Rain, who sat in the back pews with the other ghouls. The younger ghouls whispered excitedly to each other and laughed boisterously. Alpha and Omega each took a turn to smack the younger ghouls on the back of the head, nearly knocking their masks off.

“We should definitely provide them,” said Copia. “You can’t trust any of these motherfuckers nowadays.”

“Who’s in charge of branding?” asked one of the cardinals. “They’ll be able to come up with something clever to put on the wrappers.”

“Cum Together!” said the sister, wagging her pen in the air, and continued writing furiously on her clipboard. Several clergy members nodded in agreement.

“Sì, just make it one big orgy,” added Copia, smiling sneakily, looking at you again. He chuckled. “You know, one time I went to an orgy - ”

“You shut up,” Terzo said, pointing a finger at Copia. Copia looked back at him offended but immediately snapped his mouth shut.

“Yes but HR will want to know the details - we need waivers a-and STD screenings - ” chimed in the sister, worriedly counting on her fingers before Terzo cut her off.

“No, no one is fucking me!” Terzo shouted. The room fell silent and he paused for a moment. “Not that cheaply anyway,” he added dryly, looking back through his notes to get back to the topic at hand. He scoffed and muttered under his breath, “Not since college…incredible.” He rolled his eyes and continued.

He finally calmed the audience down and finished speaking, then dismissed the clergy in a hurry to reconvene in fifteen minutes.

Copia leaned across the aisle to your pew before he left. “It was a good idea, no?” He shrugged his shoulders and walked towards the back pews to strike up conversation with the others.

Feeling annoyed, you turned back to him and started to say something but thought better of yourself and turned to face Terzo. Your eyes met his, and you shifted uncomfortably in your seat. Oh shit, you thought, knowing just how this looked to him. You gathered your belongings and headed to the altar to start setting up the communion for mass later in the evening.

Terzo remained where he stood, gripping the sides of the pulpit as the clergy milled out of the front doors, tapping his fingers on the sleek mahogany. You could hear the gold nails on his leather black gloves click rhythmically against the wood. You gazed along his profile; he wore a frown and raised an eyebrow, looking straight ahead.

Once most of the clergy left, he walked over to the altar where you stood. “Come here, Sorella!” You tried to look busy to avoid the intensity of his gaze. His papal face paint looked even more menacing in the light of the chandelier, the light only picking up the white paint and his white eye. He seemed taller when he wore his mitre and full papal robes.

He grabbed the large silver Grucifix next to you and clutched your hair, forcing you face down and bending you over the altar. “We talked about this, Sorella. You understand the consequences, sì?”

You yelped. “Papa wait - ”

“Silence,” he commanded, pushing up your skirt and paddling you square on the ass with the metal cross. You let out a small moan. Fuck, why did that feel good? Your skin stung, mostly from the cold of the metal, as he wasn’t intending to mark you - only making a metaphorical point of who you belonged to.

“Yes, Papa,” you said, resigning while feeling your heart beat with excitement.

He tore down your panties to your ankles, spat into his hand, and shoved two clawed, gloved fingers into your pussy, unrelentingly moving them in and out. You moaned louder this time.

The two cardinals who were still in the back of the hall murmured and quickly shuffled out the front door.

“Sei mia,” he whispered menacingly quiet in your ear. He groped your left breast as he dry humped your thigh from behind, his golden nails still gripping you inside. “You know you need to be punished for being too seducente, si?”

You whined, the pain from his slap still stinging and his gold nails prodding your soft interior flesh. “Yes Papa I was so stupid,” you choked out, clinging to the cold marble altar for support. You could feel his rock hard erection prod into your thigh through his robes. He lifted up your leg to go deeper inside your cunt, now raw from his claws pounding into you feverishly.

He sighed contentedly. “You’re so tight, Sorella. I can feel you getting wetter with every touch, these gloves are sliding in so easily now. Cazzo!” he exclaimed, rubbing his clothed erection on your thigh in fervent passion. “You’re going to be moaning when the next session begins - just like my goddess should. Sei così futto bellissima. You are mine, and I am yours. I want the whole fucking clergy to see you’re mine, and show that idiota Copia his place. He thinks I’m some joke? I’ll show him.” He grabbed your jaw with his free hand. “You hear me?”

You nodded in his hand. “Terzo, my beloved, there’s nothing going on there! Please, believe me - ”

He pulled your hair back so you could see into his eyes. “I know bella mia, he’s just a prick. And he’s been making eyes at you. And how could he not - sei la più bella qui.” He relinquished the grasp on your hair, your hairline aching from his tight grip, and he swung your head back down to the marble. He continued fingering you from behind, pinning you down with his other arm to keep you from moving wildly by his frenzied, almost desperate touch. He kept looking towards the door. “Where’s your phone?” he asked.

You whined, barely able to utter another word.

“Your phone, your phone, principessa!” he urged.

You wanted to ask where his was but could only manage a few guttural moans and pointed to the floor, where your phone flew out of your habit moments earlier.

He bent down and picked it up to look at the lock screen, never breaking his rhythmic thrusts with his hand. He grunted and mumbled, “He knows better than to text you when I’m right here.” You leaned over to see 12:53 - seven more minutes until the next meeting was supposed to reconvene. “We can figure out how to kill time,” he said, finally easing up on you, now slowly entering you with just his index finger. “That’ll teach that stupido uomo ossessionato dai ratti not to covet what does not belong to him. Voglio assaporarti.”

Fuck, he really was going to one-up Copia.

He flipped you over so your back laid against the cool marble. He hovered over you and stared deep into your eyes as he slipped his gloved fingers out of you and into his mouth, moaning, tasting you. “Deliziosa,” he said. He slid two fingers back inside your dripping wet pussy, rolling his thumb over your clit. You grinded your hips against his hand, clutching the edge of the altar, hoping to hurry up your encounter before anyone else came back in. Small, wet sounds echoed along the stone walls.

You both glanced back at your phone - 12:55. The Cardinal was usually annoyingly early.

“Who makes you feel good?” he asked loudly.

“You do, Papa!” you screamed.

“Who do you belong to?” he demanded.

“You, Papa!”

“You would never leave me, not for him?” This last question sounded wounded, not a command. He broke your gaze briefly, looking at the floor, his long eyelashes casting shadows on his cheeks. He quickly flicked his eyes back to yours.

Why would he ask these questions? “Never my love,” you whispered, whimpering at his touch. Your clit quivered under his thumb, and your wet cunt contracted around his digits.

“Good girl.” He spread your legs apart, and ravished you with his tongue, flicking wildly around your clit and motioning a come-hither inside you with his index finger. You grabbed the sides of the altar in euphoria. Your body convulsed around him, your thighs wrapping around his neck. You lost control as your body tensed and released, Terzo moving expertly in rhythm with your hips, and you cried out in ecstasy, your ardent moans for your lover echoing through the chapel walls. Your arousal came flooding out of you, and Terzo latched his lips around your labia and sucked deeply, drinking you.

He gulped and chuckled, as he continued to finger you while he looked up. You followed his gaze to the front of the chapel, where Copia and several cardinals and bishops stood, mouths agape at the sight before them.

You quickly shoved him off you and pulled down your habit to cover yourself, but it was too late as they likely walked in just as you were wailing like an animal for your Papa.

“Are you quite finished?” one of the bishops asked, annoyed.

Copia was red in the face and glanced away as Terzo stared at him. He brought his arousal soaked fingers to his mouth again, exaggeratedly sucking them clean. “Oh sì, ho concluso il mio lavoro,” he said, answering the bishop but grinning at Copia, his face paint smeared around his mouth and chin.

You blushed, embarrassed; yet you tried to hide a grin yourself, because that was one of the most thrilling experiences of your life. You slid off the altar and stood beside Terzo, trying to conceal putting your underwear back on by standing behind his vestments. You held onto his shoulder for support, your legs shaking like mad.

Copia slowly made his way up the steps, papers and Unholy Book in hand, eyeing the altar where you just laid. You had left behind a small pool of your arousal - and probably some of Terzo’s saliva as well. “I see,” he muttered, a disgusted look on his face as he tried to find a clean surface to place his things. The remaining cardinals and bishops took their seats, eyeing Terzo with trepidation. It looked like everyone - Copia especially - had several words to say, but their place was beneath Papa.

Terzo grabbed you by the shoulders to whisk you away, and you both broke out into laughter as you made your way to the pews. As it was the Cardinal’s turn to lead this meeting, Terzo happily took his place in the second row pew, propping up his feet up on the back of the first row and leaning back contentedly with his hands behind his head. He proudly wore his smudged paint and the scent of you like a badge of honor. You took your place beside him, still stifling laughter.

Copia flipped through his Unholy Book, trying not to look at the two of you entwined in an embrace. Terzo kissed you on the temple, looking at Copia. “Cardinal, I know it must be hard for you to imagine such a passionate embrace, seeing as you’ve never pleased a woman…but this is how it’s done.”

Copia slammed his book shut and started to speak but suddenly fell silent. “Sister Imperator,” Copia said, bowing his head slightly in respect.

Imperator came entering the chapel and took her place a few rows behind you, on the opposite side of the aisle - almost as if to keep a close watch on you.

Terzo sank down into the pew, pulling up his robes to cover his face, as if that would make him invisible. You looked behind your shoulder, and caught a glimpse of her stern face.

What trouble would you be in now?

Italian to English Translations

- dio mio (my god)

- Cazzo (fuck)

- Sei mia (you’re mine)

- seducente (seductive)

- Sorella (Sister/Nun)

- Sei così futto bellissima (You are so fucking beautiful)

- Idiota (idiot)

- bella mia (my beauty)

- sei la più bella qui (you’re the prettiest here)

- principessa (princess)

- stupido uomo ossessionato dai ratti (stupid rat-obsessed man)

- Voglio assaporarti (I want to savor you)

- Deliziosa (delicious)

- Ho concluso il mio lavoro (I’ve finished my job)

[blackbird5154]

@angellayercake 💜

I decided to put this in a separate post because it's not so much a response to yours as it is my own reflection.

I strongly doubt the legitimacy of Tobias' statement that Terzo hates himself and others. His positive message from the stage about saying "yes!" to life (and why am I reminded of Frankl with his book on concentration camp?) seems very sincere. Perhaps this shows Terzo's inner struggle: forced to deal with disappointment, he resorted to positive psychology. You know, all those people who tell you that you have to accept life with its simple pleasures, but deep down inside are unhappy themselves. Their messeges aren't false or contradictory, they're just coping as best they can. It's their way of keeping themselves afloat.

Maybe at his age, when things don't seem black and white anymore, Terzo was able to find a foothold to withstand life's disappointments and keep him from slipping into depression. Maybe in his natural despositions he was too active and optimistic, too full of vitality to just lie down in a puddle of his own tears and decide that everything was useless. He was too enthusiastic from the beginning to the end of his reign to be able to be fully described with the bluesy image Tobias gave us in the interview. Like Captain Nemo, who, after losing his entire family in a revolt, built the Nautilus instead of committing suicide, so Terzo accepted his papal status, embarking on his 20,000 leagues journey. But just as Nemo was gradually undermined by his pain, so Terzo was affected by his inner traumas. You can't hide from it under the sea. It's easy for me to imagine how fame and the Grammy turned his head, how in that intoxication with the illusion of intimacy with his listeners he found a counterbalance to his inner dissatisfaction. I think his spiritual connection with a crowd was genuine and deep. Perhaps that was the source that nourished him. And of course, Sister knew well how to hurt him by ripping him away from the audience at his last concert and then joking that he would return under the spotlight before killing him. When I say she's sadistic, I'm not kidding.

After all, if to follow through with the Icarus metaphor used in Meliora, this guy fell at the peak of his flight, intoxicated by sunlight. He was trying to escape his imprisonment in a labyrinth built by his father, using wings that his father had also built. The realisation of his mistake came only when he was already plummeting downwards.

[earthry]

Hello love I know your requests are closed, but i have to get it out of my system and tell to you about it (please just ignore me) I can't stop thinking about the idea of papas breaking up with reader to protect them and even telling them 'I never loved you' because this way it will be a faster way for reader to move on and stop asking question to their papa, BUT i think the even more angstiest plot twist would be if it was the exactly same day when reader was ready to tell her papa she's pregnant. A few months/weeks after this whole breaking out thing he could by accident find out about 'the news' (im sorry for taking your time, but this thing is on my mind literally on a loop for days and i think you're angst enjoyer just like me ALSO i hope you have an amazing weekend)

~🐍

Aksjshsh ANON it’s funny cause I literally had something almost exactly like that in my discarded drafts snsbsbsb I don’t really plan on finishing it or writing a full HC for it, but here's a little treat just for you. You can imagine any Papa here <3

tw: pregnancy, slut-shaming, self deprecation, hurt/comfort, angst, breaking up, happy ending! please keep in mind this is mostly unedited and just randomly written out spur of the moment.

After the breakup, everything he does reminds him of you. 

It was a mistake— thinking that breaking up with you would set you on the right path, a better one. You had a whole life ahead of you, he didn’t want you wasting it by waiting for him every time he left for tour or had to cancel plans to attend to his papal duties.

He can see the toll it takes on you, the crestfallen expression you think you hide so well when he has to leave a date night early or when he has to call a rain check. The anxiety vibrating off you when you text him after a new concert video is released of him flirting with the audience, asking if it's okay to get reassurance that it’s just an act.

He needed to let you go.

It broke his heart to, but he in his eyes it was setting you free for your own good. You would never let him go if you knew his reasoning— he knew this so he had to make it seem like he didn’t want you anymore.

You didn’t believe him at first, begging him to open up to you and to stop joking around. You were convinced something or someone must have said something; the Papa you knew loved you, he wouldn’t suddenly fall out of love so quickly or be so cruel. 

So he aims for the heart. He tells you it wasn’t really real, that it was all a game to him to play house for a while because he was curious. Now that his curiosity has been sated and he is bored, he sees no reason to keep you around.

It hurts him to say so, and he will never forgive himself for it, but he tells you that he never loved you in the first place, that you were just another body. That you were so easy to bed, it only took a few sweet words and you had already fallen so hard. He calls you laughable. Pathetic. A whore. He laughs as tears begin to gather, taunting you when you run out crying.

You avoid him after that— and he has his Ghouls deliver anything that you’d left in his room to your old room. 

You toss the positive pregnancy test that you were waiting for the perfect moment to show him— it seems like there would be no perfect moment, there would be no moment at all.

He may not have loved you, but you did. Despite the pain, you can’t imagine a universe that you wouldn’t keep his baby. 

You just don’t know how he’ll react. Once upon a time you had thought he would never ask you to get rid of the baby, that he would ask you what you wanted first and respect that decision. But you had also thought he loved you just as much and you were so very wrong.

You try hiding it as long as you can but eventually your belly gets too round to conceal. 

You can see the realization cross his face in real time and when he tries approaching, you can’t help but look at him with hurt, fearful eyes. All it takes is for you to rest a protective hand on your stomach to tell him what he wanted to know. 

“I’m sorry,” you blurt out, “I’m sorry, please don’t make me—“ you swallow back a soft sob, unable to even finish the sentence.

Of all the things he’s ever done, leading a satanic church, promoting sin and pleasure and corruption, this will forever be what he feels guiltiest for.

He doesn’t even think before reaching for you, trying to pull you into his arms to comfort. Can't think of anything else except that right now he needs to soothe you, needs to fix this.

Before, you would have melted into his embrace straight away. Now, however, you struggle and push him back.

He lets you, not wanting to force anything, not wanting to distress you. It’s bad for you— and the baby.

"Tesoro," He tries, gentling his tone as much as he can, holding his hands out with his palms up in an attempt to show that he means no harm, "Shh, shh— I won't make you, I'm not mad. I promise."

You don't believe him and he can tell from the way you are holding yourself— like a house of cards one blow from caving in. You don't know if you can do this again.

He had made promises before, too. Promises you had foolishly believed with naivety. How could you be so stupid, so gullible? To believe that out of all the people in the ministry, in the world, he would choose you? That Papa Emeritus himself could love you.

You should have seen it from the start but you had been too in love with him, too busy making sure you could be enough for him, only to realize that you never would be. There's a sinking realization that you were never enough in the first place.

You never meant anything, after all. He said it himself.

You wonder how it must have felt for him, to have to deal with your inadequacy and even your desire to learn how to make things feel good for him because you had little experience. He must have found it laughable, he certainly told you so.

You were laughable. Pathetic. Whore.

To want to be good at the one only thing you were good for... you wonder how he was able to stand you that long.

You put distance between you and him, arms wrapped protectively around your waist. He looks pained and you're having trouble figuring out what.

Was it because it would ruin his reputation? To have knocked up someone like you?

"I won't say anything," you rush out, "No one will know it's yours, please. Please let me keep it. Please."

"Amore mio—"

"I'm not your 'amore'. I never was, never will be. It's okay I understand that now. Please let me k-keep it."

"I..." He wants to say more, he wants to comfort you and hold you. But he doesn't really have a right to anymore and he can tell how upset you are, he doesn't want to aggravate you any further. "Yes, yes you can keep it. I won't interfere, you have my word."

You still look doubtful and he adds, "I swear to Lucifer himself."

There's a little more reassurance in that. You know him enough to know he wouldn't say those words lightly, even if he had lied to you and toyed with you the way he did. There's a relief that passes over you and you thank him as quickly as you can before dashing off. You hear him shout your name but you don't stop and he doesn't follow.

---

INSERT PAPA DOING HIS BEST TO MAKE UP AND DO EVERYTHING HE CAN TO MAKE YOU HAPPY. LOTS OF SELF LOATHING FOR PAPA BECAUSE HE DID A FUCKYWUCKY.

Eventually there's a moment where you ask why he's being nice, why he's doing this and he tells you he loves you and you call him a liar. He then admits his mistake and apologizes. He says he'll never do it again and will wait until the end of time for your forgiveness if necessary. Or if you never give it, he will wait forever even after the end of time. He is at your mercy.

You eventually warm up to him with hesitation, but you're cautious and always bracing yourself for the catch, for the bad things to happen again.

Papa continues doing his best to support you and be there for you and when he shows his dedication by being there for the birth of his baby and being there for you the entire time, you finally let him back in and offer him the first olive branch by asking him if he would like to hold his child for the first time.

[ghuleh-recs]

Cardinal Copia had his own Fic Rec Friday and now it’s Popia’s turn. I've compiled a healthy mix of x reader and x ghoul below. A little something for everyone! I may have gotten a little carried away— there's a lot to see here so make good use of your ao3 bookmarks!

Take my hand. Let’s read about the HBIC together. ♡

recs under the cut.

Papa x Reader

Don't Go - @ramblingoak - papa iv x gn!reader

While trying to convince Papa to cancel the tour you end up confessing how you feel about him.

Rough Day - @writingjourney - papa iv x f!reader

papa takes care of you after a rough day.

Your Star Wrapped in My Cloak - @sherwood-forests - papa iv x f!reader

You find Copia in the library, in hopes of apologizing.

VIII Strength - @anamelessfool - gn!reader

VIII STRENGTH Strength (Physical and Will), courage, persuasion, influence, compassion Copia is a pent up sort of man, he always has been. He enjoys being Papa but on his worst days the title has a near physical weight pressed across his shoulders. He comes home to you, and you can tell when it's been one of those days. Luckily, he has you to guide him.

Forbidden Fruit - @ink-and-dagger - papa iv x f!reader

It's a pleasant surprise to stumble upon the newly ordained Papa Emeritus IV browsing through the library stacks. Even more pleasant that he happens to be halfway up a rolling ladder, and wearing one of his sinfully tight suits. What better opportunity to give Copia's cakes the attention they deserve. Or No snakes needed to convince you to take a bite out of this apple.

Forever Yours - @sweatandwoe - papa iv x gn!reader

Ever since you had entered into a relationship with him, you had learned three strict rules about Copia. One, he did not like to be tickled in any situation. Two, he always had to have a drink after sex. Three, the make-up stayed on. The first two were easy to follow but the third though, was getting harder to try not to bend.

Worship - @copiasjuicebox - papa iv x transmasc!reader

Tumblr Request: trans!copia worshipping your body after your t shots have had time to work. he understands how to worship your body properly bc he’s been through the transition, he gets it.

on leather wings - @ghostchems - papa iv x f!reader

copia surprises you with a spooky weekend getaway, culminating in some winged bedroom time

Papa IV x Ghouls

tumblr ficlet - @st-danger - papa iv x dewdrop

"Papa," Dew murmurs, and Copia feels a tremor move through him; there's a particular voice Dewdrop uses when he wants something. Silky and dark and slow. A drawl. It's what he's using now, and he hasn't the ability to deny him anything. And if Dewdrop is about to angle for a little action, backstage and hurried with Copia in his papal robes- well. It'd be sinful, of course. And it would be wrong to not take advantage of that, right?

What's My Name? - @copiasjuicebox - papa iv x swiss

"Why don't you ask me how I'm doing?" in which, the audience doesn't refer to Papa as "Papa" and it strikes a chord.

And You Know That It Takes Two - @forlorn-crows - papa iv x dewdrop

“Well, I do. Of course I do,” he assures the ghoul. “Quite fond of you all, actually. It was, admittedly, a little rocky when we first met. But.” There’s that heh Dew was expecting just moments before. “Here we are, no?” When Copia starts rubbing his thumb up and down the inside of his knee, Dew’s brain stops working. His gaze zeros in to the fingers splayed across the side of his thigh, so foreign, so bare, so pink against the black of his casual uniform pants. His mind is full of static and all he can hear is his own blood pumping through his head. But there’s a weird something tugging in his ribcage; something new yet old, unnamed but familiar.

tumblr ficlet - @littlemoon-beam - papa iv x dewdrop

He can't look away from his hands, the way the veins flex under his skin as he expertly plays. Copia hears his own shuddering breath, wishing he could feel them on his skin even if only for a moment. He'd worship every fingertip if given half the chance. What really gets him though, what makes his chest tight and his stomach twist, is when he finishes and smiles, head tilted and eyes bright. "Was that ok, Papa?"

Changing of the Seasons - @kissingghouls - papa iv x cirrus

Cirrus and Copia share an umbrella on a rainy day.

𖤐 you know the drill--bookmark, read, and leave kudos/comments!

Did I forget your favorite? You've got a standing invitation from me to add your own rec and reblog ♡

[the-hole-in-terzos-shoe]

Let's Get These Heels Off...

Burlesque!Terzo x Fem!Reader

Warnings: NSFW, Smut, MDNI!, Lingerie, basically smut with a little tiny bit of plot 🤷‍♀️

Word count: 3.4k

ANYWAY, I'M BACK HI HELLO!!!!! I really did not mean to take a hiatus, but I am in grad school and that just needed my attention these past weeks. I have been writing the whole time, this just happens to be the first thing to get finished!

But! I am sooooo excited about this! @angellayercake and I have been squealing and giggling and losing our minds over burlesque Terzo for months now and she requested this special 🥰 it was an honor to write this for you, my dearest Cake, and I hope you love it as much as I love Pastimes for a Retired Papa and Banchetto!!! Enjoy 😘

Photo credit to @theshamelessghoul @vitadevoid on Instagram 🩷 please go follow both of her accounts, she's an absolutely beautiful artist.

After stalking his Instagram page every night for a week, you knew you had to see him perform in person. Not to mention that Vegas isn't too far a drive from your place. You 𝘩𝘢𝘥 to see him, you just had to.

And that's how you found yourself at the door of this club, paying the high cover charge. The venue was well worth it though, beautiful dark decor, mirrors and dim lighting making the place feel large, but intimate. You'd made it a point to dress appropriately, wanting to look fine and feel your best, but not outshine the performers. So you went with a tight black leather dress that displays your bust nicely, black lace long sleeve crop top layered over, and of course black stiletto heels to match.

Glad you came by yourself to fulfill this silly little fantasy, you take a seat in a quaint cushioned arm chair, noticing the array of vintage mismatched furniture, and order a drink. There was already a set going on, dancers gracefully moving across the stage, with the lighting offering glimpses of the room while keeping most of the viewers concealed in the shadows. You were grateful for that.

You'd never been to a place like this before and you just wanted to view the art from a distance.

Just in time too, as the one you'd been longing for took the stage, his presence larger than life, seemingly squeezing all the air from the room... And he hadn't even shown any skin yet.

His gig was definitely out of the ordinary, but there was something so alluring about watching this Anti-Pope, Papa Emeritus the Third, sashay across the stage. His dance style is slow and sensual, teasingly revealing a fishnet clad leg here or a lace covered hip there as he slowly works his way out of his papal vestments.

He certainly has the bedroom eyes down to a science as you find yourself unable to look away. Another thing that's hard to look away from is that beautifully plump ass, showcased so artfully with leather straps cupping his cheeks.

The Anti-Pope was well practiced at making his way across the floor, legs spread sinfully and hands groping various body parts. Lastly, he unhooks his corset to reveal tassels on his nipples, and he wasn't left in much more than those and a pair of panties. A few more twirls around the stage and the last few notes of the song ring out, while the lights go totally dark, leaving it pitch black in the room. The click of his heels returning backstage are the only sound until the lights slowly come back up.

Hell, he really knew how to leave a crowd wanting more. Or maybe it was just you--either way, you were happy to have seen him perform in person. It had been worth the drive and every penny.

You were pleasantly surprised to find him in the kickline of a few other performances that night, for the performers that needed back up dancers. Although you did think it was unfair for the boss to put him in the back like that, because he always stole the stage from whoever was supposed to be leading.

After the night had simmered down, a few of the dancers creeped out into the audience, mingling with the crowd to keep them happy and earn the waiters some higher tips. There were still a few performances happening, but they hardly held your attention as you felt a shift in the vibe. Papa had come out from backstage and was taking his time greeting the guests, many of them wanting to kiss his hands or cheeks.

He's so charismatic that people are drawn to him like a magnet. You feel the pull too, but you're perfectly content to watch from afar... It's not like he would know you anyway.

That is, until it seems like he's coming your way. Is he? No. Surely he's looking for someone behind you.

Tensing your fingers around the arms of the chair, you try to straighten up as best you can as he saunters right over, leaning forward and placing his hands on top of yours, effectively pinning you to the spot. His nose is only inches from yours as he looks you over, "Didn't your Mama teach you it's impolite to stare?"

"D-don't mind me... I'm just enjoying the view, um, Papa." You knew you didn't stand a chance of sounding confident in front of him, so you just did your best not to fumble your words.

He smirks, letting you know he enjoys the flattery, "Please, tesoro, call me Terzo. Papa is simply my stage name." He winks and offers his hand up to your lips.

Carefully, you take his hand in yours, appreciating his short black nails, before softly placing a kiss to his knuckles. "Terzo," you whisper, mostly to yourself.

While his hand is still in yours, he snakes his hand around your wrist before bringing it to his lips. "And you? Who are you this evening, dolce mia?"

"Just a starstruck fan," you supply before giving your name.

Still kissing his way up your arm, he tries your name on his tongue before nipping at your earlobe, earning a heavy breath from you.

"Would you like to take this somewhere a bit more private, bella?"

You stutter, "I-I didn't... I didn't think that was allowed here."

"Sì, sì, you are right, 'no stripping here on The Strip', eh?" he chuckles. He stands up and stares you down, looking you directly in the eyes, "I guess I'll be getting off all by myself tonight then." He fakes a pout before flashing a playful look at you.

Suddenly he's walking away, as if he'd forgotten about you all together.

"Hey, wait!"

He keeps walking, heading up the spiral staircase behind the stage. You hesitate momentarily before chasing him up the stairs. You had come all this way; why not take the fantasy as far as he would let you?

Upstairs, he sits at his vanity, illuminated beautifully by the soft light. Yet again, you stare as he fixes up his makeup. When he sees you behind him, he makes a comment about you being in his mirror.

But then he stands up and you're drawn to one another. He turns and within a second, his hands are on your jaw and yours on his waist, making out.

At some point, you were spun around and the next thing you know, you're being backed into another vanity, stumbling into it as lip glosses and tubes of mascara roll onto the floor. Grabbing roughly at your ass, Terzo lifts you onto the vanity, mouth never leaving yours. In fact, he uses it as leverage to gain access to your tongue.

Your fingers tremble in an attempt to untie the silk robe he'd covered his lingerie with, while he's working your black lace top off. As it drifts slowly to the floor, you start to hear a rumbling noise across the room.

Terzo pulls away from you, and before you can ask what the noise is, he's pulling you off the vanity. "Come with me, cara mia," he whispers, dragging you behind one of the various curtains back stage. Suddenly the room fills with chatter, and you realize the noise had been many, many sets of high heels coming up the stairs. The night must be over downstairs and the club getting ready to close.

Wrapped in a shroud of darkness behind the heavy velvet curtain, you feel Terzo's hands return to your waist and his lips at your ear, "Quiet, dolcezza, we wouldn't want to get caught, would we?"

"No," you reply, trying not to giggle. His mouth is curled into a big smile as it makes contact with your neck, leaving a trail of kisses and nips along your exposed skin. Silently you let out a shaky breath, fighting off a whimper.

"Ugh! Whose shirt is this?! They knocked over all my shit!" one of the dancers yells, receiving a low chuckle from Terzo.

Hands sliding up his body, you finally slip that robe from his shoulders, exposing more skin, but your hands are much more interested in diving into that luscious black hair, which draws another low noise from the man. "Shhhh," you breathe out.

His hot mouth is now lapping at your cleavage, until his thumb finds the scandalously placed zipper on the front of your tight leather dress. Inching the pull tab down, his nose dips down to the space between your breasts where he places a soft kiss.

Gently you hold him against you, one hand tangled in his hair, the other on his cheek. Undoubtedly, you have his face paint all over you, but Terzo is simply alluring in everything that he does. From the way he performs on stage, grasping everyone's attention in the palm of his hand to the dangerous way he romances you, kissing you like he loves you... you know you'll never get enough.

Finally, the dressing room starts to quiet down. Girls chatter about where they're going to grab dinner or who's going home with who. And eventually, you're left alone with your lover for the night.

Peaking his head out from behind the curtain, Terzo nods that the coast is clear, taking your hand and smirking, "Per favore, bella mia, follow me. I know the perfect place to have my way with you."

Cocky in an endearing way, that's how you'd describe him. A stranger who somehow knows exactly what you need... It's maddening, but comforting.

However, upon reaching some kind of office door, you are given some pause, "Hey, woah, where are we going?"

"Just through here, amore," he tugs your hand.

"I mean, is that someone's office? Are we supposed to be in here?" You question him, but the idea of getting caught has certainly done something to you.

"Sì, the owner's. Won't it be fun, dolce?"

Looking between his hand still holding yours and his playful duochromatic eyes, you can't deny him. "Yes," you grin, biting your lip as he pulls you through the doorway, nearly slamming it behind you.

Despite him not being the largest man, he has full control of your body, making quick work of shoving everything off the desk and laying you back on it. "Bellissima, cara mia, your beauty is unmatched," he mumbles, admiring your disheveled form spread out before him.

You huff, "Please... Have you seen yourself?" It was true. He looks like pure debauchery in that moment, leaning over you in nothing but heels, fishnets, and a black lace thong.

He smiles in a way that almost looks shy, "Sì, but tonight is all about you, no?" He leans over you on the desk, placing a kiss to your jaw.

"Who said that?" you sigh at his contact.

"You did, signora, with your actions," his lips start their decent down your body, again on your cleavage, your sternum, your belly, as he slowly unzips your dress and continues his explanation, "you drive all the way out here, from wherever you come from; you dress up; you spend your evening with us... I have never seen you before."

By now he's made his way to the waistband of your panties, kissing the skin just above the lace.

"Oh, and you know everyone who comes in here?" you chuckle and your hand comes up to massage his scalp.

"Mmm, sì, amore," he slides the zipper down to where it ends at your knees, allowing the dress to fall open, and he lifts one of your legs off the desk to nip at your inner thigh, "and if I do not know someone... I make it a point to introduce myself." His devious eyes flicker up to yours.

"So you do this with everyone you meet?" you sit up and raise your eyebrows, shaking the dress straps from your shoulders.

"Are you implying something about me, tesoro? Besides..." He ducks his head down, rubbing his nose perfectly across your clit, "It's not lady-like to kiss and tell."

Feeling his hot breath even through your underwear, you're met with those smoldering bedroom eyes he had on stage. When you let out an involuntary whimper, you have to stop yourself from urging his face towards your core.

Like a mind-reader though, he's pulling off your panties, "You must've been wet from the moment you saw me on stage." He grins proudly, but before you can chide him, Terzo's mouth is already on you, instead stealing the air from your lungs as his tongue circles around your sensitive bundle of nerves.

"Ah! Oh, Terzo..." you gasp as your fingers curl in his soft hair. If your eyes hadn't been screwed shut in pleasure, you would've seen the enjoyment written on your lover's face as he works his magic.

His hands grip your thighs roughly, pulling you to the edge of the desk to be able to dip his tongue between your folds, teasing your entrance. Your needy whines egg him on as he fucks you with his tongue, that perfect nose smashed up against your oh-so-sensitive clit. It's so overwhelming you actually try to push his face away, but Terzo digs his heels in, holding you firmly in place. Surely you'll have bruises where his fingertips clutch at your skin.

In an embarrassing amount of time, that familiar tension builds in your abdomen. Looking down at the man through your lashes, you feel an urge to beg for permission, but your mouth is unable to form the words. He senses it though, and gives you a gentle nod without disrupting his ministrations. Thighs squeezing against his ears and a high heel digging into his back, you cum for him, convulsing as he carries you through it.

Carefully, he stands up between your legs, allowing you to lean on him with your arms wrapped around his neck as you both catch your breath. Propping your chin up on his chest, you look up at Terzo. His face paint is totally wrecked, but you like seeing what's beneath it as well.

"Bene?" He whispers softly, "Was it good for you?"

"Yes," you let out a breathy laugh at the absurdity of that question. Eyes trailing down, you notice his painfully hard cock barely concealed by his thong. Looking up at him, you slowly reach for it, and you're met with a pleased hum when you palm at the head.

His lips find yours once again as he gently bucks into your hand, feeling just as needy for you as you'd been for him. "Per favore..." he rasps, "please."

"Please, what, baby?" you ask him.

"Fottimi," he says it so quietly you hardly hear him.

"Hm?" you look up, cupping his chin in your fingers, other hand still working his throbbing desire.

Squeezing his eyes closed, a beautiful blush blooms across his cheeks, "Fuck me. Please, fuck me..."

Seeing this once-confident performer enter such a space, you feel even more of a need to please him; it lights a fire like you hadn't experienced before. "Why don't you go lay on the couch for me then, hm?"

It's not lost on you how earlier you'd been worried to even come in the office, and now you're telling your lover to use the furniture.

He nods and takes a couple steps across the small room, heels clicking on the old hardwood floor. Pausing in front of the small piece of furniture like he has to think about it, he slowly bends at the hips, placing his hands on the soft cushion first, then following with his knees.

You follow him over, unable to resist his plump backside. Palming and squeezing at it, you chide him, "Putting your cute little ass on display for me? Just like you did on stage," you trail off. 𝘛𝘩𝘸𝘢𝘱! You earn an involuntary moan from Terzo as you spank him. He turns to look over his shoulder at you, where you then lean down and press a soft kiss to the hand mark you left on him, "I think I asked you to lay down."

He gives you that devilish grin before flopping back on the sofa, stretching and arching his back, feigning innocence.

Something about him acting this way emboldens you, so settling between his spread legs, you reach down and harshly tear open the front of his fishnet stockings, "If you want to act like a little whore, then I'm going to treat you like one!"

He reaches down to grab your wrist, placing it on his crotch and rutting against your hand again, "Sì, amore, please..."

Snatching your wrist away, you swat your fingers at his erection, making him jerk in a way that you're pretty sure means he liked it. "You're lucky you're so goddamn pretty."

"Hmm," he grins again, "Or what?"

"Or..." Roughly, you grab the waistband of his offending little panties and rip them down enough to expose him, the pretty pink tip dripping with precum. Taking his length in your hand, you stroke up and down, before continuing, "Or I wouldn't touch you like this..."

He whines at the way you handle him; he's so perfect, you know you can't resist him any longer.

Moving to straddle his hips, you grind your sex on his. This allows you to lean down and kiss him again, which he pulls you into hungrily. When you break away, you gaze into those lust blown mismatched eyes, "Or I wouldn't fuck you."

It's your turn to grin as you line him up with your entrance, and he becomes a writhing mess beneath you. Seconds later, however, the room is filled with gasps, sighs, moans as you finally become one.

With Terzo fully seated inside, you waste no time working your hips, easing you both into the motions of lovemaking. And what a picture you are: a tangle of limbs, lingerie, and stilettos.

His needy hands reach out to squeeze at your breasts, urging your bra straps off of your shoulders. Finally, you reach behind to unclasp the article of clothing and discard it. In an instant, your lover's hands return, cupping, massaging, and teasing your chest. The way his fingers roll your nipples already has them budding, but his mouth closing around one of them really does the trick.

With one hand cradling the back of his head and the other on his shoulder for support, you ride him at an energetic pace, gasping each time his teeth nibble at your sensitive skin.

"That's it..." he starts to whisper between love bites, "sì, principessa, oh, pl- per favore, take your pleasure from me."

Kissing the top of his head, you sigh into his ear, "Touch me... Touch me, please, Terzo!"

"Sì, signora," he obliges, his middle finger finding your clit easily, "Sei bella, così bella. Veini per me, cum on me, tesoro."

"I'm gonna..." You bite your lip, "Ahh, cum with me, baby."

Your second orgasm hits you like a wave, and it has you seeing stars. Feeling you clench around his cock, Terzo, blissed out, bites down on your collarbone as he follows you over the edge, spilling into your perfect velvety walls. Pain mixed with pleasure somehow heightens the sensation futher for you; it's nothing short of a miracle you were able to ride you both through your climaxes.

Terzo collapses straight back and you right on top of him, exhausted. His arms come up to wrap around you, gently tracing shapes into your back. When you give a tired groan, he offers, "Dai, we should get you upstairs, you stay the night with me."

"Upstairs? You live here?" you mumble into the crook of his neck.

"Sì, ragazza stupida," he chuckles, "I own this place."

"Hey!" you sit up and see him pointing at something... the name plate from the desk, thrown across the floor reading 'Terzo Emeritus.' Glaring back down at him, you argue, "Well, I'm not stupid, or whatever you said."

He smiles up at you, softly. "It means 'silly,' amore mio."

"Oh... Well still..." you lower your voice to a near whisper, "I would like to spend the night with you."

He reaches up to stroke your cheek, "Okie dokie, then. Let's get these heels off."

[wonder-worker]

"[Marozia] was the daughter of the Roman aristocrat Theophylact and of his wife Theodora, a “shameless harlot”, as Liudprand calls her, who taught the “exercise of Venus” to her two daughters. Theophylact controlled the Roman nobility and was able to influence papal elections. Women played a very significant role in the rise of his family. At the beginning of the tenth century his daughter Maria, better known as Marozia, made her appearance on the political scene. Liudprand’s portrait of this lady, her sister and her mother, who controlled Roman politics through their sexual relationships, has become so famous that it has led to the creation of the term “pornocracy”. After having an affair with Pope Sergius III at a very young age, Marozia married three times. Her first husband was Alberic of Spoleto, by whom she had a son, Alberic. Around 926-927 she married Guy of Tuscany, Hugh’s brother. Theophylact and Theodora both died around 915, leaving Rome in the hands of Marozia. This did not please everyone. A conflict arose in the 910s between Marozia – later supported by her second husband Guy - and Pope John X. The pope had established an alliance with King Hugh of Provence, who threatened Marozia’s interests in Rome and in the nearby territories. The dispute divided Romans into two factions, but Marozia managed to get rid of the Pope and his powerful brother, the marchio Peter. At this point she made sure that her young son John - whom she had had from her relationship with Sergius III - was elected pope. After the death of Guy, Marozia started to negotiate a political alliance with Hugh, which culminated with the marriage; however it is not certain whether the union was lawful.

According to Liudprand, the marriage was an aberration for several reasons. Marozia tried to become queen by selling the city of Rome as if it was her own property; she did not have the necessary qualities to be a queen. The union between an effeminatus king - because he was not able to control his sexual desire - and a woman that was nothing more than a “shameless harlot” could not end well. Hugh had to leave the city because of a revolt against him led by Alberic II, Marozia’s son, who felt threatened by the king’s arrival and by his arrogance.

[...] Further evidence on Marozia and her infamous attempt to become a queen is offered by a late tenth-century text, composed between 972 and 1000, the Chronicon of Benedict, a monk of Sant’Andrea in Soratte (near Ponzano, Latium). This text is mainly the history of the monastery, but also reports Roman political events. Benedict shows a patchy knowledge of the history of Carolingian Europe, and seems not to know many contemporary authors. Nonetheless, he is a precious source for Roman politics, in which he was particularly interested as he greatly admired Alberic II – Marozia’s son - who had patronized his monastery. Because he deals with Roman politics, Benedict has something to say about Theophylact’s family. Even if he is less aggressive than Liudprand – he does not mention the infamous affair between Marozia and the Pope - he is not very partial to Marozia either. He introduces her when mentioning her relationship with her first husband, the margrave of Spoleto, Alberic. According to Benedict the union was not a lawful marriage, but rather a “wicked affair”. Benedict never mentions Marozia’s name. He introduces her as “the daughter of Theophylact”, adding the cryptic sentence “whose name survives” This passage presents significant implications. It is possible that the manuscript’s copyist committed a mistake, omitting the word “non”. In this case, Benedict would have implied that he did not actually know Marozia’s name. However, it is also possible that the sentence was not a mistake, and that Benedict omitted Marozia’s name on purpose, and decided to make his audience aware of that. Marozia’s name was well known in Europe: Liudprand was familiar with these events and even the West Frankish writer Flodoard of Rheims mentions her, reporting that by 933 Marozia was kept prisoner by her son. Therefore it seems quite unlikely that Benedict, who was familiar with Roman political events, had never heard her name.

Even if one assumes that Benedict’s omission was a way to deny visibility to a very controversial lady, he did not avoid recognizing her political influence. He mentioned the conflict that had arisen in the 910s between Marozia and John X. He also defines Marozia as “domna senatrix”, acknowledging her part in Roman politics. However, Benedict sees her success as a political catastrophe: “Rome was subjected to the powerful hand of a woman”. Benedict quotes Isaiah’s prophecy, which foresees the punishment of Jerusalem’s inhabitants for their sins: “And I will give children to be their princes, and the effeminate shall rule over them”. According to Benedict Rome has become a new Jerusalem, in which moral and political decay has produced the distortion of the natural system. This perspective is shared by Liudprand. In his account of the diplomatic mission to Byzantium, the Relatio de Legatione Costantinopolitana, Liudprand reports a dialogue between himself and the Byzantine emperor. In this conversation Nicephoros accuses Liudprand’s patron, Otto I, of having taken “Rome by force” and killed many noble people. In his answer, Liudprand refers to the same biblical quotation: “My Lord did not invade the Roman city by force or in a tyrannical way, but rather he freed it from the yoke of the tyrant, or tyrants. Were not effeminates lording it over Rome, and, what is more serious and sordid, were not whores doing the same?”

Benedict’s version of Marozia’s story is somewhat different from that of Liudprand. Benedict attributes the marriage between Marozia and Hugh to political reasons rather than to Marozia’s sexual appetite. Hugh needed support in Rome in order to become emperor, and Marozia needed external allies as opposition against her was growing. Benedict presents Marozia as the initiator of the negotiations that led to the wedding, and although he does not express an explicit opinion about these facts, he seems to imply that this is an aberration. Benedict and Liudprand share a view according to which female power – or power held by unmanly men - means tyranny. Both their accounts show Marozia’s failure as a wife and a mother, as she puts her sexual appetite and her personal ambition above the interests of her own son. Her shameful behaviour is allowed by the lack of male authority. However, their opinion of Hugh is slightly different. According to Liudprand, Hugh was ruined by his sexual incontinence, whereas Benedict considered him as an evil man, who plotted to blind Alberic, the true hero of the narrative. Moreover, Benedict implicitly condemned the Roman nobility that allowed a woman to take control.

Most importantly, unlike Liudprand Benedict acknowledges Marozia as a queen, as he calls her regina twice; thus presenting her as Hugh’s lawful wife. However, the title does not seem to imply any political prerogatives, at least not through her marriage with Hugh. Benedict only acknowledged Marozia’s influence in Rome, but he portrayed it in a negative way. In other words, according to Benedict power and femininity are ill-suited. His idea recalls that expressed by another Carolingian text, the Annals of Lorsch, which use the same words (“femineum imperium”) to identify and condemn female authority. In describing Charlemagne’s coronation the annalist states that at the time “the name of the emperor was lacking among the Greeks, who were subject to the female imperial rule of Irene”. This does not seem to be the case for Liudprand. He prefers to underline the moral aspect of this degeneration: Roman disorder has to do with the power held by immoral women, meretrices, rather than with female power itself. These differences also reflect the diverse understanding of the two authors with regard to queenship."

-Roberta Cimino, Italian Queens in the Ninth and Tenth Centuries (PHD Thesis, University of St Andrews, 2014)

[renaissancefailmarriage]

HRE in his propaganda: golden prince, god’s favorite special boy, flower of chivalry, warrior and sometime poet, formidable knight of christendom in fine armor, and of course, One True Heir to the Roman Empire (no kin doubles!!!!! Byzantium/Papal States/Ottomans do NOT INTERACT!!!!!)

HRE in real life: stressed, doing paperwork, writing and receiving bitchy letters @ his dignitaries, in debt to the Medici AND the Fuggers, gets fully dressed and then lays in bed all day to hold his audiences because he partied too hard the night before, won’t stop proposing marriage to people, cringe in public by referring to himself in 1st person plural

[submariini]

Thee Antwerp Gig Overview (by #5)

me and @jeevm arrived around 7:50am at the gig, numbers 4 and 5 bc belgians simply are not a queuing people. not much happened beside chaotic uno and trix doing a short interview with us seven? i think at that point i forget

the bus arrived a little before ten am, and we were allowed to sit inside at that point so we just all went outside again and just stood there for a whole ass three hours being clowns.

jaakko, jukka and jesse walked by a few times entirely undisturbed bc belgians also do not talk ever. (and dutch ppl ig). respectful times.

eventually, at around one, Häärijä got off the bus (mostly as a distraction for K going the other way). This man came by like proper we thought he was gonna just walk by, but he waved and then decided to ignore everyone and beeline straight into my direction for a hug? hello? unsure how he still knows what i look like (was not in the yellow tshirt yet bc cold and he hasnt seen me since simerock).

K and Jesse came by as well -- please note at this point there were like goddamn 40 people there. Nothing like the Munich papal visit scenes at any point.

K just the nicest. Didn't remember me from simerock (fair, it was a factory of photographs) and was like wtf rollo (as per ushe), complimented my boots bc he likes them (they are r+ but usually kids sizes) and i got to be "mean" abt the r+ ticket sale and the bus making it stressful. When he asked it I wanted him to sign anything, I didn't have anything and he just offered to sign my boots? Man did not expect the clown to clown communication that was happening bc he seemed very oh god for real when I agreed.

Someone gave him a necklace and instantly wanted to put it on. The person who gave it couldn't fasten it bc nails/shaking hands so I offered to try and then idk how it got fastened bc christ I shook as well. Not helpful: Mikke both filming that and the boot signing up close 😭

Told Jesse he told me at simerock that I should just join the tour bus and he went "yeah that sounds like something I would say." then scolded me for not having been in Berlin for that 😭

H wandered back and forth a bit, had another weird football chat (rip hazards career) where I was sitting on a little wall, back to the bus still at that point, and he just leaned into me turning around and just held my shoulders the entire time? When I got sweaty and took my hoodie off later he also suddenly grabbed my tshirt when it was riding up I am Feeling Fine.

Was wearing the yellow tshirt w the cross stitch and he made me turn to show Jesse??? And Jesse did the nicest "wait can I touch this?" bc I guess he thought it would be fragile???

People formed a nice selfie line and K just said he's santa claus 🎅

H vanished, then came back out of the bus, and we had a weird mime moment bc I wasnt sure if he was motioning at me to get to him away from the rest. He was and I got fucking free merch??? Like free, not yet available merch. Genuinely what the FUCK. Im making an extra post abt this most likely bc I cannot explain what the hell happened in that moment and the things around it.

When Mikke did the interview w the first queuer, H just stood behind the glass door into the venue and started miming at us. Like not even properly in character? Help.

Gig

Jesus Belgian audiences proving once again we just Are like that. Refusing to goddamn shut up. Every time. Man disallowed to banter by loud belgian screaming. He seemed so touched though jesus christ time to cry

Got roasted for basically slut dropping and shooting my Häärijä sign up in the air before Mic Mac. "yes that mean fucking häärijä" local man fed up w my antics.

Got roasted AGAIN straight after Mic Mac because I was the person he pointed at during the "this is your home now" bit. (promptly decided diving behind the barrier and Face In Hands was the best reply)

Mild bit before the 2nd Cha Cha Cha as I was the front row person he called out for not sitting down. Just yelled that I got bad knees and I'm not sure anyone caught his reply properly 😂

Overall 10/10 excellent gig what the HELL. The belly flop on the balloon, the whole banter before paidaton bc so much of the queue ppl I was with took their shirt off, the way we refused to kept chanting, him trying to eat the bubbles, him talking about Hs dick and the whole balls convo??

Post Gig

Had to pick up merch for a few people, so went with the hope of a third Häärijä hug. He eventually got a bit held up outside of merch by people (lit at the door into the merch room) and I got to just "Sorry it's me again" but he just instantly hug. We talked a little about the gig (did I like it, how I was doing) and like K feeling much better/doing better ft. some dumb crap.

Merch was in fact gotten after I just LOST my friends bc of H.

CANNOT wait for London. and Glasgow but thats with normal people. Like met so many fun people in the queue who are going to be at London jesus christ. Party time.

[richmond-rex]

Hi! You think arthur wasn't premature? Do you think he was planned ?

Hi! Sorry for taking so long to reply! Honestly, I'm unsure whether Arthur was carried to term or genuinely premature. I've been meaning to make a poll about it because imo this is such an interesting speculation. The arguments in favour and against Arthur being premature would be, in general lines:

Arguments in favour:

Elizabeth of York seems to have been sick during her pregnancy. Preparations had been made for her arrival at York for the king's northern progress but she did not go. After her labour, she definitely became sick (she had an 'ague', as the herald recorded). Hyperemesis gravidarum could explain Elizabeth's sickness and possible preterm delivery.

The Earl of Oxford, one of Arthur's godparents, arrived late for Arthur's christening ceremony, delaying for a couple of days. If Arthur was born premature it could explain why Oxford had not made his way yet to Winchester by the time of his godchild's birth.

Henry VII was famously prudent, which was also talked about during his lifetime, and that might have hindered any premarital relations. He went to great lengths to have all the necessary marriage dispensations and to have his marriage formally recognised by parliament as a state necessity. Given the whole context of past accusations of illegitimacy against royal heirs, it would be out of character for him to risk having his heir born before they could get a papal dispensation and undergo a formal public wedding ceremony. Henry himself declared to the papal legate that 'he cannot fulfil such desire [marriage] without obtaining canonical dispensation'.

Arguments against:

Arthur was described as a 'fair prince and large of bones' at his birth. Being described as a big baby does not sound like someone who was born before his term. His parents waited a few days for his baptism thanks to Oxford's late arrival so they definitely thought him healthy enough to risk the possibility of him dying before getting him the sacrament. At that time, babies who died before baptism were considered unable to go to Heaven, and many hasty baptisms were performed by midwives soon after the child's delivery if their health was considered to be in danger. The herald who registered the proceedings of Arthur's birth and christening never once did mention that Arthur arrived early or that Elizabeth of York 'was delivered suddenly', like she was said to have the last time she gave birth (1503).

In medieval England, betrothals could be as binding as an actual marriage. Elizabeth of York was described as Henry VII's 'wife' since December 1485 and seems to have moved into the Palace of Westminster around that time, that is, they started cohabitating from then on. It's possible they became husband and wife in practical terms after a declaration of intention to marry followed by consummation (marriage per verba de praesenti).

Although Henry VII made sure to get all the necessary papal dispensations (3), the fact is that he did not wait for the arrival of all three dispensations and quickly married Elizabeth after the arrival of the first one — only two days later, in fact. Did they rush to get a public wedding because they had already been living as husband and wife? Did they do it because they feared Elizabeth could already have been pregnant at that time? Why couldn't they wait until March/April when the other dispensation, signed by the Pope himself this time, arrived?

The papal representative that gave them their first dispensation arrived in England in January. It's possible they already knew about his arrival back in December and knew that they could quickly get their first dispensation through him (they certainly did prepare for his audience), so cohabitating (and everything else it entailed) would not be as risky and imprudent of them as we might think nowadays. Alternatively, the papal legate might have already been in England by December but could only hold an audience in January once Advent/Christmastide was over.

Henry VII's prudence aside, they might have simply had the hots for each other. Thomas Stanley declared at the papal audience that he often heard Elizabeth and Henry talking together about their marriage ('often and at divers times treating and communing of and about a marriage to be contracted between them') and that Elizabeth had 'great and intimate love and cordial affection' for Henry. Stanley was the only witness to cite Elizabeth's love and affection when questioned, so it does not read as an argument line that was agreed upon between all the witnesses before the audience. Interestingly, in the ballad The Most Pleasant Song of the Lady Bessy, Thomas Stanley is portrayed as Elizabeth's trusted friend. Similarly, the Earl of Nottingham, who claimed to have known Henry for twenty years, was the only one to cite Henry's 'singular love which he bears to her'. The pregnancy calculator sets Arthur's full-term conception as 29 December-4 January, so could Arthur have been a Christmas/New Year's celebration baby, conceived during a time when court etiquette was particularly lax and the mood particularly festive?

This is all I can think now but there might be other arguments either in favour or against the theory. I've been meaning to read a new biography of Arthur Tudor recently published whose author seems to think Arthur truly was premature, so I'm curious to know why he thinks that. Of course, the theory that Arthur was premature does carry a certain weight. Every argument against it can be refuted, including for example, the idea that Arthur would have looked small on the day of his birth (20 September 1486) if he was conceived exactly on their parents' wedding night — he would only be a week short of his full time, then. If he was conceived later, though, he would have been even more premature. It's difficult to say.

[breitzbachbea]

You know what I think nations would actually be super helpful with? Guided tours! They could make amazing co-guides together with the expert and tell you about firsthand experiences! That's always a great way to make a topic more accessible!

You are very right actually, I also see the potential more in "Why isn't my entire living room on display?!" "Uh, well, Sir/Ma'am, because we already have a set of Georgian cutlery and porcellan on display, which are also in a better condition than yours and while we thank you for your donation, we do have more documentation about the one already displayed, though we are very thankful for all the context you provided." "But I ... but I ..." I do think the nightmare about nation's private possessions is that if the state (which in earlier times would be some sort of courtly administration) didn't write it down on a list, these people surely didn't. I don't need to keep inventory over my stuff! No one is gonna inherit that shit, why write it down? Although nations may be immensely useful in identifying the objects on old storage lists with the objects in an archive's possession itself. That is such a tedious job, every museum employee would love help with that.

Yeeees! If there's not an official register about what they owned it's hard to only take their word for it, and it would hold little seriousness, plus conservation is a pain and the nations are unlikely to care about it, look at America's storage room for example lol and one could say those are more recent artifacts than the ones you'd find in idk China's storage room.

So nah, they could donate their stuff to an archive or something but I don't think it would be specifically displayed on a museum (unless you make a nation's museum or smth like that) or it would have to be an artifact really unique, which would involve the whole process of (re) creating the narrative around said object and the nation's word for it its only like 12% of the process there...

[ghulehunknown]

Hello!! Uhm may I request papa terzo dealing with a shy reader who wants to be fucked and mutters how she wants Terzo to take her right their and then and Terzo hears it and he goes”oh what was that? You would like me to fuck you raw yes? That is what I heard” or sum like that 😭 you don’t have too !!! Have an amazing rest of your week

Ask and you shall receive! / {Warning - the following contains NSFW smut}

Terzo x F!Reader

**NSFW**

Summary: You’re a new hire Sister of Sin and you’ve won the opportunity of having a private audience with Papa Terzo.

CW/Tags: female reader, shy reader, characters drinking alcohol, vaginal fingering, P in V sex, unprotected sex

Word Count: 1900

“La Lezione di Lucifero”

You walked up to his office door and hesitated before knocking. “Fuck,” you whispered under your breath. Were you really going to do this?

You moved all the way from your boring hometown to work at the Ministry. Wasn’t this the life you wanted to live - a life full of spontaneity and a little depravity?

Anyway, you had quite literally won the lottery. Every new hire got a chance to have a night with Papa…in whatever manner they wished to, so long as Papa gave you a particular wink in the hallway. At least, that’s what you were told. You were also told this was more or less an unofficial initiation ceremony to let Lucifer’s spirit into your body through Papa - though you were certain that was a crock of shit excuse Terzo used to sleep with as many Siblings as possible.

Finally you knocked on his office door, your heart beating so hard you could practically feel it in your throat.

The door opened and there he stood - Jesus Christ, he was even more intimidating up close. He looked surprised at first, then smiled almost smugly.

“Hello, Papa, I… I don’t think we’ve been introduced,” you stammered, looking at the floor, noticing the fine leather detail on his shoes.

“No, we haven’t. But I know who you are,” he said, stating your name matter-of-factly. “You’re new.”

“That’s right, Papa. You’re very observant,” you said sheepishly, instinctively reaching to tuck your hair behind your ear, still not used to wearing your veil.

“I notice everything. I have to; it’s my job.”

You nodded quickly, still avoiding his gaze though you could practically feel his white iris piercing into you. “Yes, of course Papa, I - I didn’t mean to…I mean of course you…”

“Relax Sorella, and come inside,” he said, stepping away from the door and gesturing for you to come in.

You stepped through the threshold of his office, never in your wildest dreams thinking you’d be granted entry in a million years. The room was dark - deep purple walls with tapestries, mahogany furniture, and black slate floor tiles. It looked quite elegant.

“Are you still working this late?” you asked him, entering the middle of the room.

“Mmm, a little yes and a little no,” he admitted. “No rest for the wicked as they say.”

You smiled at him and let out a tiny laugh.

“So,” he started, moving things around on the bar cart opposite his desk, the clink of the glasses bringing you to your senses. “You want to get fucked tonight, eh?” he continued with a smirk, pouring you both a glass of something clear in two ornate glasses. He handed you one.

How did he know what you had on your mind? Your face must’ve flushed bright red because Papa took a casual sip from the glass and spoke again. “Nervous? You don’t have to be. We won’t do anything you’re uncomfortable with. Mm?”

“Yes, Papa,” you practically whispered, taking a slow sip then coughing as soon as the burning liquid hit your throat.

“Careful, Sorella,” he said, leaning against his desk nonchalantly and lifting the glass to his regal mouth. You watched as the glass touched his soft bottom lip and you bit yours, holding back your imagination of feeling his lips on yours. You wondered if his Papal paint ever smeared, and what it might look like smudged onto your face. He brushed his bottom lip with his thumb and looked like he was pondering his next move.

You didn’t want to seem impolite so you choked down another swig of the - what was it, gin?

He set his glass down on a side table and walked towards you, taking your glass from your hand. He took a sip from yours and muttered “Mmn. Cherry lip gloss?”

You blushed and started to tuck your hair behind your ear again, before remembering your veil once more. “Yes, Papa.”

“Hmm, my favorite.” He set your glass down next to his. He lifted your chin so you were both gazing at one another. He tilted his head and leaned in to kiss you - suddenly it felt like you were flying and losing sense of time. Yes, his lips were soft, somehow even softer than you’d imagined. He pulled away, licking his lips. “È delizioso.”

You held your hand up to your mouth, already missing his.

He walked over to his desk and opened up a drawer, rummaging around and pulling out a very small, metallic package and setting it down. “How do you want it?” he asked plainly, looking at you.

“P-pardon?” you asked.

“How do you want it? On the desk, or on the couch? Would you prefer to be on top, or do you like to be on the bottom?”

“I, er - ” you stammered. You gulped, and took a few steps forward until you faced him on the other side of the desk. “On the desk.”

“Very well,” he responded. He began to open the little package when you noticed it was a condom.

You held your hand out to stop him. “No, Papa. I just need to feel all of you, right here, right now.”

His lips - Satanas, those beautiful lips - curled into a wicked smile. “Ho sentito bene? So you want Papa to fuck you raw, eh?”

Your hand still over his, you looked into his eyes and responded, “Yes.”

He reached for your face, grasping your cheek in his hand and dove in for another kiss, this time faster and rougher. You sloppily returned the gesture, feeling your tongues slip inside each other’s mouths in desperate fervor.

“Mmn,” he said, pulling away. “Sorella, I must disclose it would be safer if we used protection. I did, eh, just attend an orgy last night. Who the fuck knows what may be…lingering, you see?”

You nod, making your way around his desk. “I said, Papa,” you started. “I need to feel all of you right here. Please Papa just take me,” you breathed into his neck, kissing him again.

He held your waist in his hands, kissing you roughly then making his way to your neck.

You took off your veil, letting your hair fall around your shoulders. He took a strand in his hand, smelling it then exhaling. In one swift motion you unzipped your habit and let it fall to the floor, looking down at your knees and noticing your legs were shaking.

He gazed at you, biting his bottom lip as he watched you undress. He looked, for a lack of a better term, hungry. He noticed how shaky you were taking off your clothes and grasped around your waist again. “You’re shaking, Sorella. Let me help you.” He slid your panties off your waist and you yanked them the rest of the way off.

You hopped up on his desk, spreading your legs partially, hesitant to show him every bit of you.

“You are molto bellissima, Sorella. Has anyone ever told you that?” He held your chin in his hand.

You shook your head, pursing your lips.

“What a pity. Because you are very pretty. And you would look prettier filled with my cock on my desk.”

You tilted your head back as he kissed you again, placing his hand between your legs, carefully caressing around your labia before slipping in between your lips and easily sliding his middle finger inside your entrance. You moaned, arching your back as he filled you and slid back out.

“You are very wet for your Papa already,” he said in a praising tone. He slipped his gloved finger into your mouth. “See? There’s a good girl.”

He unbuttoned his shirt, revealing a bare chest (minus a few dark hairs across his pecs) and soft but toned arms. He kissed your neck as he unzipped his trousers and flung them, his gloves, and his underwear off. His hard cock bobbed as it was released from his pants, flushed pink at the tip and ready to enter you.

He caressed you, sliding his hand up to your back and unhooking your bra in one hand, holding your face with his other as he kissed you. You slid the straps down your arms and let the bra fall to the floor.

Once your breasts were free, he took each in his mouth, pinching your other nipple in between his fingers as he swirled his tongue around the other; taking turns and switching.

He kissed you roughly while he lined his hips up with yours, sliding his erection in between your folds and pausing at your entrance.

“Are you sure, Sorella? We can use protection, it does not take anything away,” he said, looking at you earnestly.

You grabbed onto his ass and pushed him into you, sliding him in with ease. “I need to feel all of you Papa, and invite the Unholy Spirit inside me.” Your mouth opened in an “ahh” as he filled you.

He groaned. “I guess that’s my answer,” he said, chuckling, leaning in to kiss you again while he began to pump in and out of you. “Sì Sorella, ahhh - cazzo you’re so fucking tight! - this is - fuuuck,” he breathed, pummeling into you at a much faster pace now. “This is the most effective way to induct you into the Church, mmmn, ahhh Satanas...” His breathing was much heavier now, yours escaping your lips in shudders.

You moaned with every thrust into you, feeling him fill you and stretch you. Your hands trailed all over his body and through his perfect raven hair. “You’re an ahhh - amazing teacher, Papa.”

“It really is the most effective with a female orgasm,” he said on a sigh, continuing to thrust. He brought his hand between your legs again, circling around your clit with his thumb, matching the pace he was fucking into you.

“Oh fuck, Papa!” you exclaimed, feeling your orgasm take over. He bent his head down to suck on your nipples, taking your high even higher. As your whole body quivered, you could feel yourself clench around his cock - which, clearly, sent him over the edge as well.

“Shit, Satanas!” he moaned, pumping his seed into you. You both clung to one another, breathing heavily before pulling away and beginning to put your garments back on.

“Did it work, Papa?” you asked inquisitively, putting on your habit and zipping it up.

“Mm?”

“Has Lucifer entered me? Am I admitted into the Church?”

“Ah - ” he said, stuffing himself back into his trousers, clearly pulling this explanation out of his ass. “Sì Sorella, but you may need to - hmm, come again tomorrow. I believe you need more sessions to fully let Lucifer in.”

“Is that so, Papa?” you ask coyly, looking towards his crotch - still half an erection poking through, then back up at his eyes.

“Sì, it is…imperative that your body be worshipped as a temple, and these praises be whispered in tongues into your skin. Your body is to be celebrated for creating the most sinful of acts. You may not be aware of how powerful the female orgasm is.”

Your brain wandered, thinking of all the possible things this could mean.

“And of course, you must…ingest the soul of Lucifer too,” he added.

Now that one you were pretty sure you understood. You tilted your head down in a bow. “Of course, Papa. I know Satan requires this of me before I am fully admitted to the Church.”

He cleared his throat. “Same time tomorrow, Sorella.”

“Of course, Papa.”

{to be continued..?}

Italian to English Translation

- La Lezione di Lucifero (Lucifer’s Lesson)

- È delizioso. (That’s delicious.)

- Ho sentito bene? (Did I hear correctly?)

- molto bellissima (very beautiful)

- cazzo (fuck)

[borgialucrezia]

this is gonna be too long but as much as i loved understanding cesare's pov and enjoying him as this driven and sympathetic lead who does everything to ensure the safety of his family, (which makes him relatable) it's quite clear that, while he may have started out this way, this characterization goes right out the window and loses most of its credibility by halfway through s2. it's a slippery slope for him. he begins to act out of jealousy (making it a defining trait) even against his family all while hiding behind the justification of "caring about the family's honor" to maintain the necessity of rodrigo's affection in the hope that one day he'll be given juan's position. he's aware of how covetous, hypocritical and self-serving he is and that he's driven solely by his own desires. while his backstory of being forced into the church by his father is tragic, it still doesn't excuse his conscious pettiness and maliciousness such as when he sabotaged juan's siege for instance when machiavelli implied that he should send a message to warn juan but instead he indirectly attempted to get him killed just to prove to rodrigo that he's the prodigal son and "the right man" for the job. then he evil gloated over juan's failure at forlì (a failure he had contributed to) and continued to manipulate rodrigo while gaslighting juan about the attack on the papal army. an attack that he could have prevented.

and while that's true and even rodrigo is aware of cesare's hypercompetence (something cesare didn't know yet that his father envisions him as a future pope which is why he wants him on his side fighting the battles inside the vatican), cesare could've proven it differently without inflicting harm on his own family member and damaging the very honor he claims to be safeguarding. (regardless of some of the audience's negative feelings toward juan, it's worth noting that he genuinely believed he was acting for the family’s benefit and helping them triumph. despite his misguidance, childish arrogance, and massive faults, he was loyal and would never deliberately harm those he loved even if some of the show's audience hate to accept it.) cesare, unlike juan, is startlingly efficient and cunning but also unlike juan, he's almost entirely devoid of compassion (unless it's towards lucrezia and his mother) after all cesare borgia is a machiavellian prince. his road to tyranny was inevitable and he knows very well that in order to succeed he must have the stomach to go to great lengths and avoid appearing weak. he's in many ways the epitome of brilliance, charm, and cunning. but his lack of remorse and empath particularly for murdering his own brother in a vulnerable state to secure his position, (which changes him and the family forever) shattered his father's heart (though rodrigo is partly guilty for this tragedy as he was blinded by his own ambitions and failed to see the monster cesare was becoming until it was too late) and his willingness to allow the public humiliation of his sister by marital rape simply because he prioritized his ambitions and the disingenuous need for his father's approval to gain the papal army further proves his sociopathy and his importance of his personal gain. he has no boundaries and the way one suffers/dies is irrelevant. (lucrezia is an exception because he was overwhelmed with guilt for allowing her humiliation)

cesare's ruthlessness is not mere cruelty for cruelty’s sake but an act of power intended to secure his legacy through fear (such as when he displayed it by burning a man alive in front of his troops) as machiavelli famously stated: "it is better to be feared than loved." the machiavellian prince was after all based on the historical cesare himself and françois was trying to base his portrayal on him. his transformation from a genuinely driven protector to a wretched power-hungry schemer is perfectly summarized across the seasons and culminates in borgia apocalypse screenplay. watching him become a loose cannon and rise to greater heights only to descend further into depravity and bring the entire borgia family's empire crashing down would have been an absolute joy to see on screen. his downfall culminating in a lonely fate, poisoned by the one person he deeply loved and was emotionally dependent on is a deserving yet fitting end for someone who sacrificed his formerly empathetic and authentic self for ambition. he's a prime example of how a lead doesn't need to be sympathetic to be a fascinating and compelling character. neil jordan and françois pulling his portrayal off in such a terrifying way that despite everything he remains incredibly engaging and likable. the most iconic television anti-hero imo

[kostantina]

HWS Female Holy Rome X England (Medieval Empire X Modern Empire)

AESTHETIC MOOD BOARD

❝Many German and English writers were fond of expressing a common Anglo-Saxon-Germanic heritage prior to 1914, but in fact this largely disappeared after the Saxon migrations of late antiquity. Important contacts remained, especially with the renewed missionary activity promoted by the Carolingians, who often relied on qualified monks from the British Isles, like St Boniface, but otherwise England and the Empire evolved separately. While a sense of Saxon heritage may have played a part, both countries were sufficiently distant not to be immediate competitors. Ironically, this opened possibilities for royal marriages which, like Byzantine-imperial matches, were intended mainly to impress a domestic audience and avoid antagonizing a king’s nobles by tying him to one local family. Otto I married Alfred the Great’s granddaughter, Edith of Wessex, while Henry III married Gunhild, daughter of Knut of Denmark-England. Edith’s and Knut’s deaths ended any chances of a lasting alliance in both cases.

❝By contrast, connections in the high Middle Ages were more significant, if less celebrated in the nineteenth century. Emperor Henry V married Matilda, daughter of Henry I of England, in 1114 as a deliberate attempt to forge an alliance with the Anglo-Norman dynasty ruling much of Britain since 1066. It was hoped this would outflank a Franco-papal alliance threatening the Empire towards the end of the Investiture Dispute.❞

-  Peter H. Wilson, Heart of Europe: A History of the Holy Roman Empire

❝On his mother's advice, Richard resigned the kingdom of England to Henry VI in order to receive it back as a fief of the empire. He was to pay his overlord £5,000 a year. Richard was now a vassal of Philip for his continental lands and a vassal of Henry VI for his island kingdom, but it seems that in England few, if any, were willing to acknowledge this, and that this part of the agreement was hushed up. At Henry's court, of course, it was regarded as the jewel in the crown.

❝On the day of his release, Henry VI and the princes of the empire had sent Philip and John a letter telling them that they would do all they could to help Richard if everything that had been taken while Richard was in captivity was not restored at once.❞

- John Gillingham, Richard I

❝On the morning of 6 August an imperial herald in full regalia rode through Vienna to the Jesuit church of the Nine Choirs of Angels. After climbing to the balcony, he summoned the inhabitants with a silver fanfare to announce the end of the Empire.

❝The Empire was certainly not dead by the late eighteenth century, and if it was sick, as Zedler and others suggested, it was not yet on life support. If revolutionary France had not intervened, the most likely prognosis was that the Empire’s socio-political order would have persisted further into the nineteenth century, but it is unlikely that this could have been sustained against the levelling and homogenizing forces unleashed by capitalism and industrialization around 1830.

❝By 1806, some leading intellectuals expressed the sense that the Empire had been sick for a long time and that its doctors had long given up hope. Goethe’s mother wrote two weeks after Francis II’s abdication that the news was not unexpected, ‘as when an old friend is very ill’. Later historians have expressed similar views that the Empire died ‘a “natural” death’ from old age, rather than having been murdered by Napoleon.❞

-  Peter H. Wilson, Heart of Europe: A History of the Holy Roman Empire

❞By the end of the Napoleonic Wars, French imperialism had been curbed in North America, the Caribbean, and parts of Asia, but soon much of North and West Africa would be brought under French political and cultural influence. Spain was no longer a major power, but after the demise of its empire in the 1830’s its cultural dominance in the countries of South America remained: their economies urban, their governments strictly centralized, and their peoples devoutly Catholic in the Spanish style (Fernandez-Armesto, 2003). The Dutch and Portuguese empires were also in decline, and yet survived, resistant to radical change because of the commercial benefits derived from their overseas possessions. However, none of these four imperial orders came close to matching the size and power and wealth of the British Empire.

❝Encompassing nearly a quarter of the Earth’s land mass and a quarter of its population, the British Empire in the 19th century grew into the most extensive empire the world has ever seen.❞

- Douglas M. Johnston, In The Historical Foundations of World Order: The Tower and the Arena