Spanish Eyes – Christus Rex

Christus Rex is a Latin phrase that means “Christ the King.” It is often used to refer to Jesus Christ as the ruler and sovereign over all creation. Christus Rex is also the title of several churches, organizations, and events that celebrate the kingship of Christ.

The Second Coming refers to the anticipated return of Jesus Christ to Earth, as foretold in the Christian faith. According to Christian belief, Jesus will return to judge the living and the dead and establish his kingdom on Earth. This event is a central tenet of Christian eschatology and is described in the Bible, particularly in the New Testament. Christians believe that the Second Coming will bring about the ultimate fulfillment of God’s plan for humanity and the world.

1. The Second Coming of Christ: In the Bible, Jesus prophesied that he would return to earth in the future to judge the living and the dead and establish his kingdom.

2. Wars and Rumors of Wars: In the book of Matthew, Jesus predicts that there will be wars and rumors of wars before his return.

3. False Prophets and Deceivers: Jesus warned his disciples about false prophets and deceivers who would lead people astray in the end times.

4. Persecution of Christians: Jesus foretold that his followers would face persecution and hardship for their faith.

5. Signs in the Sky: In the book of Revelation, there are prophecies about signs in the sky, such as the sun turning black and the moon turning red, which will signal the end times.

6. The Antichrist: The Bible warns of a figure known as the Antichrist who will deceive many and lead them away from the true faith.

7. The Great Tribulation: Jesus spoke of a time of great distress and suffering that would come upon the world before his return.

8. The Gospel Preached to All Nations: Jesus predicted that the gospel would be preached to all nations before the end times.

9. The Rebuilding of the Temple in Jerusalem: Some interpretations of biblical prophecy suggest that the Jewish temple in Jerusalem will be rebuilt before the return of Christ.

10. The New Heaven and Earth: The Bible describes a new heaven and earth that will be created after the final judgment, where there will be no more pain, suffering, or death.

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Masterpiece – The One

Madonna: Sharp, iconic, discerning.

JCJ (Joseph Christian Jukic): Handsome, a bit broody, with an undeniable magnetic presence.

Domenico Dolce: The romantic, often more focused on the artistic vision.

Stefano Gabbana: The more flamboyant, business-savvy, and direct.

Setting: A dimly lit, opulent set designed to look like a Sicilian kitchen or a bustling market square. Cameras click, assistants scurry. Domenico and Stefano are reviewing shots on a monitor while Madonna and JCJ are taking a break, sipping tiny cups of espresso.

(Scene opens with Madonna looking at a shot on Stefano’s monitor, JCJ standing nearby, a towel draped over his shoulders.)

Madonna: (Tilting her head, a smirk playing on her lips) He looks like he just stepped out of a Visconti film. All that brooding intensity… It’s almost too perfect.

Stefano: (Grinning, gesturing with a flourish) Darling, for our vision, too perfect is exactly perfect! He is the archetype. The Sicilian dream.

Domenico: (Nodding, a softer smile) He embodies the spirit we crave. The tradition. The strength. You two together… it’s a story.

JCJ: (Quietly, looking from the monitor to Madonna) It’s easy when you have a muse like her. She brings it out.

Madonna: (Turns slowly to JCJ, her eyes appraising) Oh, he is a charmer too. Careful, Joseph, or I’ll have to keep you.

Stefano: (Clapping his hands together) Keep him, Madonna! It makes our job easier! The chemistry, it sings!

Madonna: (Back to JCJ, her voice dropping a little, more serious) There’s something about you, Joseph. You have that timeless quality. It’s not just the camera. You understand the unspoken.

JCJ: (Meeting her gaze, a slight smile now) I try to. I see what you’re doing, too. You’re telling a story with just a look.

Domenico: (Stepping closer, a hand on Stefano’s shoulder) That’s it! That’s what we want! This feeling… it’s like an echo across generations. The past, the present…

Stefano: (Waving a hand dismissively at Domenico’s poetic tangent, then winking at Madonna) It’s simply that you, Madonna, you tell him he is “the one.” Backwards and forwards. He understands the vision, he embodies it completely.

Madonna: (Raises an eyebrow, a knowing glint in her eye, then turns back to JCJ, her gaze piercing) You know, Stefano isn’t wrong. When I look at you in these shots, it’s undeniable. You are the one. For this. For us.

JCJ: (A genuine, slightly shy smile finally breaking through his usual stoicism) And you, Madonna, you make it real. You always do.

Domenico: (Beaming) This is it! This is the feeling for the fragrance! The allure, the passion, the memory that lingers… It is all here.

Stefano: (Posing dramatically) Precisely! He is the dream she always returns to! The one, no matter how you look at it! Now, let’s get back to work! More magic to make!

(Stefano claps, urging everyone back into position. Madonna gives JCJ a final, lingering look before turning to face the cameras.)

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A Visit with The Young Pope

All the world suffers from the usury of the Jews, their monopolies and deceit.
They have brought many unfortunate peoples into a state of poverty,
especially farmers, working-class people, and the very poor. — Pope Clement VIII

The Dialogue: The Tribe of the Crown

Pius XIII: (Exhaling a cloud of smoke that obscures his face) “Clement was a blunt instrument, Louise. He saw the effect but ignored the lineage. He spoke of ‘the Jews’ as if they were a foreign infection, failing to realize that the very Thrones of Europe—the ‘Most Christian’ Kings and Queens he blessed—were obsessed with their own Davidic claims. They preened themselves as the true Tribe of Judah, the rightful heirs to the scepter.”

Madonna: (Toying with a heavy, diamond-encrusted crucifix) “So they weren’t just protecting the faith. They were protecting the brand. The ultimate cultural appropriation.”

Pius XIII: “Precisely. It is the oldest trick in the Vatican’s playbook: the scapegoat. These monarchs built their empires on the shifting sands of fractional reserve systems—creating wealth out of thin air, a magic trick that would make even your stage shows look amateur. And when the math inevitably failed, when the gold wasn’t in the vault and the peasants sharpened their pitchforks, the ‘Kings of Judah’ needed a villain.”

Madonna: “And who better than the people you’ve already labeled ‘outsiders’? You crash the economy, then point the finger at the neighborhood you forced them to live in. It’s a rigged game, Lenny.”

Pius XIII: “It’s more than rigged; it’s a masterpiece of theater. The elite blamed the ‘usury of the Jews’ to distract from the fact that the entire Royal Treasury was a house of cards built on the same principles. They condemned the monopoly while holding the deed. Clement wasn’t just a Pope; he was the ultimate press secretary for a bankrupt aristocracy that wanted to keep its crown by sacrificing its creditors.”

Madonna: “So the ‘poverty’ he cried about wasn’t caused by the people in the Ghetto. It was caused by the people in the Palace who couldn’t pay their bills.”

Pius XIII: (Leaning forward, his blue eyes cold) “The poor are always the footstool for those who claim Divine Right. The Kings of the earth played at being the Tribe of Judah, but they lacked the one thing that makes Judah eternal: the ability to survive the fire. They preferred to start the fire themselves and watch the world burn from the balcony.”

Pius XIII: (Leaning back, the smoke curling around his papal tiara like a shroud) “Look at Edward I of England, Louise. The ‘Longshanks.’ In 1290, he was drowning in debt—wars are expensive, and his vanity was even costlier. He didn’t have the gold, so he played the ‘Judah’ card. He issued the Edict of Expulsion, seizing every asset, every ledger, every coin belonging to the Jews. He didn’t just cancel his debt; he turned a bankruptcy into a ‘holy act’ of purification. He fed the farmers the lie that their poverty was a Jewish invention, while he used the stolen capital to build castles in Wales.”

Madonna: “It’s the ultimate rebrand. ‘I’m not a thief, I’m a Crusader.’ If you control the narrative and the God, you never have to be the villain. You just find someone to play the part for you.”

Pius XIII: “Exactly. And the Church provided the script. Clement VIII wasn’t just observing history; he was editing it. He spoke of ‘monopolies’ as if the Papal States weren’t the largest monopoly in the known world. The ‘Tribe of Judah’ in the palaces and the ‘Vicars of Christ’ in the cathedrals ran a closed-loop system. When the peasants realized the bread was gone because the King had spent it on silk, the Church simply pointed to the moneychanger. It’s a beautiful, horrific sleight of hand.”

Madonna: “And we’re still doing it. Different names, different ‘tribes,’ but the same fractional heart. We print money out of ego and pay for it with blood. You know, Lenny, for a man who claims to be the gatekeeper of Heaven, you have a very dark view of the house.”

Pius XIII: (A cold, sharp laugh) “The light is only visible because of the darkness, Louise. I am the Pope. I don’t just see the house; I see the plumbing. And the pipes have always been stained with the ink of false ledgers. The Kings of the earth pretend to be the Lion of Judah so they don’t have to admit they are merely the hyenas of the treasury.”

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The Protector of Lourdes

Setting: The rooftop garden of a Tribeca loft, late evening. The skyline of New York City glitters, a private escape from the flashbulbs below. LOURDES, wrapped in a silk kimono robe, leans against the railing. MARKO, in a simple black t-shirt and jeans, stands a respectful few feet away, his posture alert, eyes scanning the adjacent rooftops. A faint, intricate pattern of dots is just visible along his forearm, like old ink.

LOURDES: (Without turning) You can stand down, you know. The only paparazzo up here is a very determined pigeon on that chimney.

MARKO: (A small smile, but his eyes don’t stop moving) Habit. And pigeons can be surprisingly shrewd.

LOURDES: (Turns, leaning her hip against the rail) That’s your answer for everything. ‘Habit.’ ‘Protocol.’ ‘My job.’ You’ve been a shadow in spotted clothing for two years, Marko. My very own, very serious Dalmatian.

MARKO: (Finally looks at her, his gaze steady) It’s not just a costume, Lourdes. It’s a vow. My family… we don’t just guard people. We guard legacies. Light. The things that burn too bright and attract moths… and worse.

LOURDES: She takes a step closer, the city lights catching in her eyes. And what if the ‘legacy’ is tired of being a flame? What if she just wants to be… a person? In the quiet?

MARKO: (His voice softens) Then I guard the quiet twice as fiercely.

LOURDES: Another step. The space between them is charged, humming. You know, in all the fairy tales, the protector eventually leaves. The job is done, the dragon is slain, off they go.

MARKO: (He swallows, the professional mask cracking) My fairy tale is different. The protector sees the flame not as a duty, but as a hearth. And the thought of leaving it cold… (He breaks off, shaking his head) That’s not in the vow.

LOURDES: Is this in the vow? (She reaches out, her fingers barely brushing the pattern of dots on his forearm. He goes very still.) All these spots… a map of every loyalty, every danger you’ve stood against?

MARKO: (A low murmur) A map of every reason I shouldn’t be this close to you right now.

LOURDES: But you are. You’re here. And you’re not scanning the rooftops anymore. You’re looking at me.

He was. His intense focus, once diffused across the entire skyline, was now fixed solely on her face. The night seemed to hold its breath.

MARKO: It’s the greatest breach of protocol I’ve ever committed.

LOURDES: Then be a disgrace with me. Just for tonight. No Marko Bosko, Dalmatian guardian of some sacred trust. And no Lourdes Leon, heir to a hurricane. Just… us. In the quiet you promised to guard.

MARKO: (He brings his hand up, covering hers where it rests on his arm. His touch is warm, surprisingly gentle for hands so capable of violence.) The quiet was a lie. There’s nothing quiet about this. About how I feel. It’s a roar.

LOURDES: (A smile, genuine and unguarded) Good. I’ve spent my life surrounded by noise. I’d rather have your roar. Let it drown everything else out.

He doesn’t kiss her. Not yet. Instead, he brings her knuckles to his lips, his eyes closing for a brief, precious second—a guardian offering a devotion deeper than duty.

MARKO: Then my vow changes. From this moment, I don’t protect the flame from the world. I protect the world for the flame. For you. Wherever you lead.

LOURDES: (Whispering, leaning into him) Start by leading me inside. The pigeon is definitely getting a scoop.

A low, genuine laugh rumbles in his chest as he finally, fully, lets his guard down, wrapping an arm around her and turning them both away from the glittering, watchful city.

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