A Ghost Story: Episode 13 - Everything Is Going Smoothly.
Cardi is actually right to feel nervous. And not just because of the upcoming investiture.
Sister Imperator is even more nervous than he is: the fate of her entire project, the future of the Ministry and the Clergy, will be decided within a few hours.
The only one who is truly calm is Professor Peter “Perpetua” Cardinale, who continues his quiet life as a bookseller amid meetings with authors, classical literature, and modern novels.
And no one is yet aware that a sort of tornado is coming to sweep through everyone’s lives...
He still didn’t believe a word of it. And he certainly didn’t believe they’d dissected Terzo to pack him away in a suitcase as a “human anatomical specimen for educational purposes.”
But in the end, preparations for the concert in Mexico City had taken over, and the red-haired Little Sister had helped him sleep better at night. Rehearsals with the Ghoul musicians had gone more than well—interviews, set designs… all the preparations for what was supposed to be a memorable evening had taken over his thoughts, and he’d loved the costume fittings and photo shoots. The only thing he wasn’t at all convinced about was the latex mask with Pope IV makeup; singing and moving while wearing it was really annoying.
But in the end, it was part of the act, and it would only be needed once for the 11 songs in the second half of the concert. “Miasma” would be the last song of little, old Cardi. Very evocative: the death of Cardinal Copia. Then the little sisters would come on stage, shielding him from the audience; the costume designer would help him with the quick character change; he would slip on the utterly unappealing silicone mask and rise again as Papa Emeritus IV. Too bad he wasn’t actually an Emeritus, but that was a detail known only to a few: the audience wasn’t supposed to care.
Chapter 13: A Ghost Story: episodio 13 - tutto scorre tranquillamente.
Cardi in realtà ha ragione a sentirsi nervoso. E non solo per la prossima investitura.
Sister Imperator è ancora più nervosa di lui: il destino di tutto il suo progetto, il futuro del Ministero e del Clero si deciderà entro poche ore.
L'unico davvero tranquillo è il professor Peter "Perpetua" Cardinale, che prosegue la sua vita di tranquillo libraio fra incontri con autori, letteratura classica e romanzi moderni.
E nessuno ancora è consapevole che sta arrivando una specie di tornado a travolgere le vite di tutti...
Continuava a non crederci minimamente. E tantomeno credeva che avessero sezionato Terzo per portarlo via in valigia come “preparato anatomico umano a scopo didattico”.
Ma alla fine i preparativi per il concerto a Città del Messico avevano preso il sopravvento, e la Sorellina dai capelli rossi lo aveva aiutato a dormire meglio, la notte. Le prove coi Ghoul musicisti erano andate più che bene, interviste, scenografie….tutta la preparazione di quella che doveva essere una serata memorabile aveva preso i suoi pensieri, ed aveva adorato le prove di costume e le sedute fotografiche. L’unica cosa di cui era per nulla convinto era la maschera di lattice col trucco da Papa IV; cantare e muoversi con quella addosso era davvero fastidioso.
Ma alla fine faceva parte del gioco, e sarebbe stata necessaria una sola volta per gli 11 pezzi della seconda parte del concerto. “Miasma” sarebbe stata l’ultima canzone del piccolo, vecchio Cardi. Molto evocativa: la morte del Cardinale Copia. Poi le sorelline sarebbero entrate sul palco coprendolo al pubblico, la costumista lo avrebbe aiutato nel breve cambio di personalità, si sarebbe infilata l’antipaticissima maschera di silicone e sarebbe risorto come Papa Emeritus IV. Peccato non fosse un Emeritus, ma questo era un particolare che solo in pochi conoscevano: al pubblico non doveva interessare.
So in the 10 minute time limit I set, Secondo won the poll (affectionate non-hostile fuck you to whoever voted for Nihil XD). Don't worry. I will eventually yap about all Papas. You can't stop me.
thoughts about this man under the cut
I chose that picture very deliberately. His quasi-canonical grandma bedroom is SO IMPORTANT TO ME. Quasi-canonical because I think it's from something that never got used? I don't remember the source but that's our lad right there in front of a cat tapestry on a quilt next to bizarre potato dolls reading his paper while dressed up like he escaped the Sergeant Pepper album cover
A thing I truly love about Ghost is that the whimsy goes all the way down. Metalhead types insist that they used to be cool and dark and serious but...look at this man. This is the man who growled "I am Papa...you are not" direct to camera. This is the man who had grucifix doilies on this freaking papal robes. This is the man whose reign included more pop covers than not. A man who sang about shitting and farting and being richly endowed.
Secondo comes off as spooky. He comes off as imposing. And there are times sure where he can lean back in and truly bask in being the mouthpiece of Satan on Earth. But Secondo and I are part of the same polycule because he and I both have an unending commitment: to the bit.
I feel like the spooky tough guy exterior who has an attack dog and the goofus who does silly shimmies on stage at Coachella and speaks Italian in an entire interview despite speaking perfectly good English exist for the same reason that so many people go around hiding the things they love under a layer of irony poisoning. It's a defense mechanism.
Secondo has a soft underbelly (literally, from what we see in Papaganda 2). He gets deep in his feelings. Terzo may have the reputation for Byronic brooding, but that's because he does it noticeably. Secondo never lets anyone see him crack. But he goes up on a roof top at night where no one but father Satan and mother Moonlight can see him, lights up a smoke, and watches the stars and lets himself Feel all the things he has spent all day hiding behind gruffness or humor. In fact that's the very vivid mental image I get when I hear the Ghost cover of Waiting For the Night. Him alone with the stars, basking in the beauty of the night, sunglasses off.
The sunglasses. That's another shield between him and the world. I fucking love that look. I adore Mr. Worldwide Secondo so much. And honestly, I love for him that he is gonna be that big pimpin' g and get all the ladies (and maybe theybies and fellas if the opportunity arises) while he can. You can feel the resignation in him, a sort of fatalistic feeling when he talks about how he's just one in a succession of Papas. "I'm here for a good time not a long time" truly lives and breathes in Secondo. Alongside the defensiveness of it all, that's another reason for his sense of humor. He may keep his quips to himself unless they're precision targeted, or he may be acting in a way that's spooky or offputting to others but absolutely hilarious to him, because fuck it he may as well have fun along the way. His comment in Papaganda about loving a sexy rocking beat is so delightful and it goes so well with being the era that covered ABBA and Crucified - I feel like his taste in music would run wide and shallow (not in a bad way, just that he'd be way more mainstream in his tastes than his brothers). Anything he can party, groove, or fuck to.
That said I have seen people suggest that he's less committed to the Papacy and the Ministry as a result of this attitude and I disagree. We think that because the two immediately adjacent examples are the most devout fanatic the band has ever seen before him in Primo and the impassioned (then jaded) radical reformer in Terzo. Secondo didn't have a grand vision, but he steered the ship steadily through uncharted waters nonetheless. The way he leads a congregation from the stage, you can tell he has care for this flock. If it hadn't been after his time, he could have done an absolutely killer Cirice - from the footage I've seen of him shaking and kissing hands with the people in the front row, the man cherished and fostered that connection. He is a priest who understands that a church is not made of brick and mortar, nor of dogma, nor of the God it follows - but of the people who attend it.
I have seen some fics say that he would be the gruffer brother, if only because of that defensive nature - he guards a tender heart and thus would stick his foot in his mouth a lot when trying to talk feelings - and I like that take. But I feel like he'd also be very devoted to his family, especially Primo and Terzo. This goes for all three of them really but one of the sweetest things to me about the Red Uno Game (until the horror of course) is despite the obvious bitching and bickering...they all showed up. They clearly enjoy each other's company enough to make it a Thing predictable enough that people planning their assassination could count on it as the perfect ambush time. Headcanons aside we have both that and his presence for both peaceful onstage transfers of power in the Ghost lore says a lot.
He's a graceful man. Not just in his movements (which he is, with the exception of poor Terzo Falls-a-Lot all the Papas move like they're made of liquid) but in the dignity he maintains in public. We see that dignity slip when he's being deliberately goofy or in a few candid moments in Papaganda but he carries himself with gravitas. And, though not without bitterness, he accepted his place as the man between other Papas and handled it with aplomb.
After thoughts, some feelings: I love this man as much as I love the other Papas (save Cardi who I love a feral amount and Nihil who I tolerate). I adore Secondo. I don't thirst for him actively the way I do the three younger Papas but I have read some things that made me temporarily want him - and my lack of thirst is due to a very specific sense memory - I had a relative growing up with an intense farmer's tan who would go shirtless when drunk, and that shot in Papaganda 2 where his belly is showing and is ten shades paler than his (mask) face just makes me flash back to that family member and kills any boner I would have had.
But out of all of them save Cardi who is my number one Pookie for a reason, Secondo is the Papa I would most want to hang with. Not for the party side. I want to sit with him on his goofy grandma bed and have drinks and listen to him bitch about stuff. I wanna bop to music with him and learn about his interests. I just think he'd be a fascinating conversation and a pleasant hang. I think we could have a lot of fun "yes and"ing each other.
And if he ever decided to trust me, I would love to take a moment with him to watch the stars.
Volare in the Spitalfields with rats around nel blu dipinto di blu.
And yet, to me, Cardinal Copia reminds me way too much of the young Domenico Modugno.
Yeah, I know Tobias has always said he was inspired by Vincent Price, Dracula and Jacques Clouseau and he’s absolutely right, of course… but, what can I say:
I’m absolutely convinced there’s a lot of “Mr. Volare” in his jaunty little mustache, too.
Who knows, maybe after the tragic accident he’ll get his baby-faced look back, mustache and all!
Terzo è arrivato a casa: sua madre lo ha accolto senza troppe cerimonie. Sono cambiate tante cose, ma in fondo tutto è rimasto uguale.
Ora è tempo di godersi la tranquilla sicurezza della famiglia.
Sapendo che un'oscura minaccia sta già arrivando a rovinare quel momento di pace.
Chapter Text
Insomma, di tutto quel chiacchiericcio aveva capito che Nireth era un aspirante hacker, un bravo pianista e tastierista, un discreto giocatore di basket nella squadra della scuola, col ruolo di playmaker. Non era sicuro di cosa facesse un playmaker: lui non aveva mai praticato sport di squadra; l’altezza lo aveva sempre penalizzato. Gli avevano proposto di tentare l’equitazione, che in effetti gli era piaciuta ed aveva fatto anche qualche gara al trotto. Ma non si era mai impegnato veramente, andare a cavallo era per lui un piacevole passatempo e basta. No, decisamente lo sport non era mai stato un aspetto importante della sua vita.
Nireth invece sembrava molto ben inserito nella squadra; in camera aveva un sacco di foto con i compagni e gli allenatori. Era un ragazzo intelligente, allegro pure se un po’ caotico e probabilmente molto timido, ma lo mascherava bene con la parlantina. Parlava già benissimo italiano, inglese, francese arabo, e stava imparando il turco. La passione di sua madre per le lingue era arrivata a tutti i suoi discendenti.
Aveva salutato il ragazzo dalla terrazzina mentre saliva in macchina con Amir per andare a scuola.
Poi era rientrato dentro, non era troppo freddo ma il vento era davvero sgradevole.
Si decise a sistemare le sue cose nelle stanze: il bagno era bello davvero, e non aveva dubbi che fosse opera di sua madre: l’acqua era il loro elemento. Il delicato profumo di gelsomino ed arancio gli ricordava la vecchia casa. Di sicuro nel giardino c’erano degli aranci, dei limoni e delle pareti di gelsomini che avrebbero diffuso il loro profumo in primavera. Non doveva mancare molto; era la fine di gennaio, presto avrebbero festeggiato il Giorno del Cambiamento: la Festa delle Luci, coi grandi Fuochi per chiamare l’allungarsi delle giornate e respirare la fine dell’inverno. Ci sarebbero stati riti di Acqua e di Fuoco, cibo e bevande inebrianti, musica forte e danze scatenate.
Aprire la seconda valigia fu un piccolo trauma: l’odore di morte di cui era impregnata la tunica nera e viola con cui era stato imbalsamato si era diffuso dappertutto: portò la valigia in terrazza, indeciso su come procedere: doveva far lavare tutto. Nel frattempo, avrebbe tenuto fuori le sue cose, sperando il vento non si portasse via quei ricordi preziosi. Sistemò con cura gli abiti all’aperto, protetti dalle intemperie.
Quando rientrò nell’appartamentino, sua madre era al centro del soggiorno. Aveva preso forma completamente umana, ed appariva regale ed incuriosita.
“allora, piccino mio, ti piace?”
Terzo has arrived home: his mother welcomed him without much fanfare. Many things have changed, but deep down, everything has remained the same.
Now it’s time to enjoy the quiet security of family life.
Knowing that a dark threat is already on its way to shatter that moment of peace.
In short, from all that chatter, he’d gathered that Nireth was an aspiring hacker, a talented pianist and keyboardist, and a decent basketball player on the school team, playing point guard. He wasn’t sure what a point guard actually did; he’d never played team sports himself—his height had always held him back. They’d suggested he try horseback riding, which he’d actually enjoyed, and he’d even competed in a few trotting races. But he’d never really committed to it; riding was just a pleasant pastime for him, nothing more. No, sports had definitely never been an important part of his life.
Nireth, on the other hand, seemed very well integrated into the team: his room was full of photos with his teammates and coaches. He was a smart, cheerful boy, even if a bit chaotic and probably very shy, but he masked it well with his chattiness. He already spoke Italian, English, French, and Arabic very well, and was learning Turkish. His mother’s passion for languages had been passed down to all her descendants.
He had waved to the boy from the small terrace as he got into the car with Amir to go to school.
Then he went back inside; it wasn’t too cold, but the wind was truly unpleasant.
He decided to unpack his things in the rooms: the bathroom was truly beautiful, and he had no doubt it was his mother’s project —water was their element. The delicate scent of jasmine and orange reminded him of the old house. Surely there were orange and lemon trees in the garden, along with walls of jasmine that would release their scent in the spring. It couldn’t be long now: it was late January, and soon they would celebrate the Day of Change—the Festival of Lights—with great bonfires to welcome the lengthening days and breathe in the end of winter. There would be rituals of Water and Fire, food and intoxicating drinks, loud music, and wild dancing.
Opening the second suitcase was a minor trauma: the smell of death that permeated the black and purple suit in which he had been embalmed had spread everywhere. He carried the suitcase out to the terrace, unsure of what to do next; he would have to have everything washed. In the meantime, he would keep his things outside, hoping the wind wouldn’t carry away those precious memories. He carefully arranged the clothes outdoors, protected from the elements.
When he returned to the small apartment, his mother was standing in the center of the living room. She had taken on a completely human form and looked regal and curious.
“Well, my little one, do you like it?”
You mentioned a while back about reading non-english fic, and I'd love to try some. Do you have any recs?
Aaaawwww this ask makes me so happy 😭
I myself haven’t read many non-English stories, as it is actually hard to find them if you don’t know where to look and how to choose which one to read, and most non-English speakers directly write or translate their fics into English. Luckily, I have some amazing Russian-speaking author friends who spoil me with the most intense stories 🖤, but I am open to all languages.
Here are some suggestions:
Terzo
Meliora by the incredible @blackbird5154 (many of her stories are translated now, so I’ll stick to the ones that are still in Russian):
A series of short stories based on the album Meliora. This is a magnificent journey full of symbolism and fascinating imagery, trying to turn the whole album into a series of intriguing tales. Action, romance, religious references… there is everything here.
CoolCat (author is not on Tumblr):
The cutest OS ever, where Terzo gets turned into a cat. This is very short and absolutely adorable. You can read it in a few minutes, and it will light up your day 🥰.
Primo
The Chapel of Ritual (author is not on Tumblr):
A carnal ritual in the Abbey chapel. A classic, but told with extraordinary dedication to detail and a sensuality that will turn you on whether you like Primo or not. After this one, you will crave that man.
Secondo
Сенсор (Sensor) (From the same author of CoolCat):
As the title suggests, it is based on a sensorial treatment that a Sister of Sin practices on a stressed Secondo… what could possibly go wrong? (Nothing, everything is right here!)
Copiiia
Неоновые бабочки (Neon Butterflies) by @grim-kazoo-player:
A very fascinating fic, where the events take place between past and present and between the Ministry and Japan. Even if it is not finished yet, it definitely deserves attention; very, very beautifully written!
Миссионеры (Missionary Men) by @blackbird5154, @mrratcardici (and I don’t know if the other authors are here on Tumblr):
I know this is a long one and takes a bit more effort, but if you have the chance, don’t be scared—you’ll find a truly outstanding Copia here. It is based on a roleplay session, so all authors did an amazing job with their characters.
From here you can have an idea of how the authors write and decide if to read more of them 🖤
Thank you for anamelessfool for the question and Osiris for advising the works of mine and other great authors! Indeed, if you've read all the English fanfics on your favourite topic, it's a good way for you to get to know something new or just get more content. You don't need to know Russian, the automatic translators are good enough to let you enjoy the meaning of the texts.
Si cambia nella vita: Peter "Perpetua" Cardinale ha appena scoperto che l'idea di diventare padre (biologico) non è per niente male. Terzo/Djer Emeritus che tornare nella sua decisamente inconsueta famiglia può essere difficile. Mentre il povero Anthony "Cardi" Cardinale è nella confusione più totale, ma ha due certezze: Che diventerà Papa Emeritus IV nonostante tutto e che tutti gli stanno nascondendo troppe cose. Ed è arrivato il momento di chiedere spiegazioni.
“ Cardi, ma dove sei finito?”. Zia Marika sembrava abbastanza preoccupata.
“Sei sparito senza dire nulla, al ministero ti stanno cercando tutti. Stai bene? E’ successo qualcosa? Fatti vivo appena puoi, ci sono un sacco di cose da fare”
Aveva saltato due giorni di prove ed un’intervista. Aveva tenuto il telefono spento fino a quel momento. Era profondamente scosso e non sapeva assolutamente come muoversi, cosa fare…ma sapeva di non voler tornare al Ministero, perlomeno non di notte. Ma anche di giorno non si sarebbe sentito tranquillo.
Doveva assolutamente capire cosa era successo a Terzo. Anzi, al suo cadavere. Ammesso che fosse davvero un cadavere, ed a quel punto aveva molti dubbi in proposito.
Chi poteva aiutarlo?
Semat era sparita, i suoi zii avevano sempre mantenuto uno stranissimo riserbo su quel ramo della famiglia. Sister Imperator non voleva neanche se ne parlasse. E Papa Nihil ogni volta faceva finta di non capire e cambiava argomento.
Beh, di sicuro tutti sapevano, anche se nessuno parlava.
“Zia Marika? Ciao, scusami, come stai?” - “Cardi, ma dove sei finito? Che è successo? Sei sparito come un fantasma, ti stiamo cercando tutti!”
“Lo so, scusatemi, ho avuto una….piccola …crisi. Non sono stato bene…Ma adesso va meglio”
Le parole facevano fatica ad uscire.
“Dove sei, ti veniamo a prendere”
“Non importa, non sono lontano. Io…prendo un taxi. Ci vediamo al Ministero”
Non aveva nessuna voglia di tornare lì, ma doveva farsi forza se voleva risolvere la situazione.
Al suo arrivo c’era un vero comitato d’accoglienza ad aspettarlo: tutti schierati come fans davanti ad una venue. Non disse assolutamente nulla, scese dal taxi, prese la sua borsa e si limitò a salutare. Si diresse nella sua stanza, seguito dalla strana processione.
“Io…Scusate se sono sparito. Dovevo…riflettere”
Lo guardavano tutti con aria incerta. C’era preoccupazione, curiosità, ansia, stupore…
“Sister Marian, buongiorno! Com’è il programma di oggi? Prove e costumista, giusto? Datemi … mezz’ora e scendo”
Si chiuse a chiave la porta dietro e cominciò a sistemare con calma le sue cose. Quasi subito bussarono alla porta
“Apri Cardi, sono la zia Marika”
Aveva un’aria fra il preoccupato e l’infuriato.
“Si può sapere cosa hai combinato?”
“Senti Zia…mi sono spaventato. Lo sai che sono sbucati dal nulla Semat e suo figlio, vero? Hanno trascorso la notte nella cripta ed è sparito Terzo! Io non voglio restare qui finché non salta fuori quel morto. E non penso neanche sia morto, a dirla tutta”.
“Ma dai, sono morti tutti da 2 anni, che te ne importa se è sparito un cadavere? Lo avranno preso per seppellirlo, insomma, che importanza ha?”
“Sai benissimo che non è vero!” Gli era successo ben poche volte di alzare la voce in vita sua, e mai contro sua zia. Ne rimase impressionato anche lui. Marika lo guardava irritata e sconvolta.
“Vuoi rinunciare a diventare Papa Emeritus IV?”
“NO. E poi non mi chiamo neanche Emeritus. Loro erano Emeritus. Semat si chiama Emeritus. Non io”
Chapter 11: A Ghost Story: Something Doesn't Add Up.
Summary:
Life takes a turn: Peter “Perpetua” Cardinale has just discovered that the idea of becoming a (biological) father isn't so bad after all. Terzo/Djer Emeritus knows that returning to his decidedly unusual family can be difficult. Meanwhile, poor Anthony “Cardi” Cardinale is in a state of total confusion, but he’s certain of two things: that he’ll become Papa Emeritus IV no matter what, and that everyone is hiding too many things from him. And the time has come to demand answers.
“Cardi, where on earth have you been?” Aunt Marika sounded quite worried.
“You disappeared without a word; everyone at the Ministry is looking for you. Are you okay? Did something happen? Get in touch as soon as you can—there’s a ton of work to be done.”
He’d missed two days of rehearsals and an interview. He’d kept his phone turned off until then. He was deeply shaken and had absolutely no idea what to do or where to go… but he knew he didn’t want to go back to the Ministry, at least not at night. But even during the day, he wouldn’t feel safe.
He absolutely had to figure out what had happened to Terzo. Or rather, to his corpse. Assuming it really was a corpse, and at that point he had serious doubts about it.
Who could help him?
Semat had disappeared, his aunt and uncle had always maintained a very strange secrecy about that branch of the family. Sister Imperator didn’t even want to talk about it. And Papa Nihil always pretended not to understand and changed the subject.
Well, surely everyone knew, even if no one spoke of it.
“Aunt Marika? Hi, sorry, how are you?” - “Cardi, where have you been? What happened? You vanished like a ghost; we’ve all been looking for you!”
“I know, I’m sorry, I had a… little… crisis. I wasn’t feeling well… But I’m better now.”
The words struggled to come out.
“Where are you? We’ll come get you.”
“It doesn’t matter, I’m not far. I…’ll take a taxi. See you at the Ministry.”
He had no desire to go back there, but he had to pull himself together if he wanted to resolve the situation.
When he arrived, a veritable welcoming committee was waiting for him: everyone lined up like fans outside a concert venue. He didn’t say a word; he got out of the taxi, grabbed his bag, and simply waved hello. He headed to his room, followed by the odd procession.
“I… Sorry I disappeared. I needed… to think things over.”
Everyone looked at him with uncertainty. There was concern, curiosity, anxiety, amazement…
“Sister Marian, good morning! What’s the schedule for today? Rehearsals and the costume designer, right? Give me… half an hour and I’ll be down.”
He locked the door behind him and began calmly sorting through his things. Almost immediately, there was a knock at the door.
“Open up, Cardi, it’s Aunt Marika.”
She looked somewhere between worried and furious.
“What on earth have you gotten yourself into?”
“Listen, Aunt… I got scared. You know Semat and her son just showed up out of nowhere, right? They spent the night in the crypt, and Terzo’s gone! I don’t want to stay here until that dead guy turns up. And to be honest, I don’t even think he’s dead.”
“Come on, they’ve all been dead for two years. What do you care if a corpse’s gone missing? They probably took it to bury it—I mean, what does it matter?”
“You know very well that’s not true!” He had rarely raised his voice in his life, and never against his aunt. He was shocked by it himself. Marika looked at him, irritated and upset.
“Do you want to give up becoming Papa Emeritus IV?”
“NO. And besides, my name isn’t even Emeritus. They were Emeritus. Semat’s name is Emeritus. Not mine.”
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tangentwithtanner
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