#white church servant
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Some (potentially) useful remarks on Healing Church clothes and weapons
1) Situation with Ludwig's sword(s) might be less simple than we used to think!
(I will be using retranslations document ( x ) by Last Protagonist as usual, to avoid losing some nuances)
So, we know that Ludwig was using the 'normie' silver sword that hunters of his type were using as well - the normal one that you stick in a 'sheath' to make a big one, replicating Holy Moonlight sword's transformed design but not glowing. The simplest variant is, of course, that he found Holy Moonlight sword but since he was so jealous and secretive of it, he was MOSTLY using the 'normal' blade. Perhaps, Holy Moonlight sword was only used on special occasions, or treasured away from most people and "consulted" for advice until later when he went mad. I would not say that this description comes from the fact that untransformed versions of the blades are the same, because... they are not:
And I think it mostly works, and it is worth pointing out that as epic as fanart of Ludwig swinging that turquoise-colored shiny sword is, and as simpler as memes using that sword are to get, but within the story it was not likely to happen consistently! But also:
This bit about description of Guidance rune makes things a bit more strange. If he, say, has been exploring the dungeons and found the sword that later inspired him to mass-produce similar swords, what it is about closing his eyes? Is this really about Ludwig just falling asleep before the sword or something? :')
@val-of-the-north suggested there is a possibility that Ludwig was shown the sword by superior forces - likely by Flora / Moon Presence herself, especially since Ludwig was close associate of Laurence, who was, in turn, beckoning Flora for creation of Hunter's Dream to begin with. For one reason or another, Ludwig could have seen the vision of the sword, that inspired him to create a very similar one under inspiration and become Laurence's knight this way. God- For all we know, Laurence might have planned to ""enlighten"" him!! And then, either himself or the hunters he inspired would go to the Chalice Dungeons and discover the REAL thing on their way. It could even be additional justification for why Executioner type of hunters are roaming the dungeons! Speaking of...
2) It is likely that Ludwig never wore Tomb Prospector set!
We know that Ludwig was THE first hunter of the Healing Church, who were a different type of hunters than Old Hunters of Gehrman's type. But at the same time, description of the Executioners clothes says that they were the very fist prototype for ALL following clothes of the Healing Church hunters, especially having inspired the trademark holy shawl:
So, FIRST was the garb of Executioners, THEN came the garb of Tomb Prospectors, at least as we know it!
(Source for Ludwig's model is Bosses Up Close video by XTrin: ( x ))
Additionally, whereas Tomb Prospector set is bought using the Radiant Sword Hunter Badge, it marks people using this badge as 'descendants' of Ludwig:
So, again; first was Ludwig, in Executioner drip, and then Tomb Prospectors, and their attire, were inspired by him. I... see the only way around it; that Ludwig was wearing Executioner clothes initially, and later wore Tomb Prospector set on his adventures, but when he was back, he also was wearing his normal set.
Interestingly, though, clothes of Executioners keep hinting at Rogeriusz/Logarius, despite him being... well, at the very least, SECOND known Healing Church hunter.
Whatever is the reason of Logarius being met in drastically different clothes, but the statue implied to be him, to which Alfred lays a crown at the end of his mad quest, IS depicted in Executioner clothes. Albeit, with far more robe-like feeling to it than how we see it on Alfred's example. Maybe for a different vibe, maybe Logaius always has been a bit more wizard-like, whichever you think it is!
It is hard to say which one is true, as we are with two variants:
one. Logarius was not the first hunter, but he was the first staff (court wizard?? lol), therefore set the trend of clothes, that Ludwig took upon as a hunter.
two. Ludwig is accursed, he fell from grace and was hated and forgotten as blood-possessed beast; meanwhile, Alfred alone is a good proof that Logarius is still honored and respected! So, perhaps, these clothes came to be associated with Executioners of Logarius instead, since Logarius (undeservingly so) pushed Ludwig from the place of admireable figure! Was it just society's sentiment, or a deliberate political action, hard to tell...
I am more fond of the second variant, and funny enough, this brings me to the next point I want to make:
3) It is likely that Healing Church's saints started wearing crowns thanks to Logarius.
Alright, this one is also slightly lost in translation, since not only the name of the item is different (which can be distracting), but also a sentense is missing in English localization.
Healing Church "sacrificing" someone would imply them giving away something treasured for them, so odds are, they would give away bodies of their saints to them roaming Pthumerians in the dungeons, instead of doing proper burial! The 'they are oddly stimulated by the stench of dead saints' also makes me think of this bit:
(Interview with Miyazaki ( x ))
If this was very special quality of blood what Pthumerian Watchers are after, then sure the saints would be the best; not only as very avid consumers of the holy blood, but also as those 'holding back' on transforming into a beast the most, which would sure make it special.
Additionally, you could use this intention, though it is a bit more vague: when Bloodborne was still a sequel for Demon Souls, Laurence's skull was going to not only look more human, but also have a crown on it:
youtube
Yeah, the simpler times when we had demon-like enemies, when Gasc and Mico would say 'Umbasa', all that.
But even cut content aside, the lore as we have it specifies that there were saints who worn crowns (and fancy rings and wrist accessories)! My lucky guess is that after Cainhurst was massacred, the saints of the Healing Church were... to put it in the most blunt way possible, qualified to declare themselves new aristocracy/rulers/whatever. Maybe it was to establish theocracy and their reign as new most influental figures, maybe it was to honor Logarius who started wearing the crown of the murdered King after his crusade, maybe it was both.
...besides, it means there were so many important saint figures in the Healing Church in the timespan from Cainhurst falling to Paleblood Hunter arriving. We seem to meet Emilia/ Amelia at the very end of whatever authority Healing Church still had, with no seen successors, and current Healing Church hunters chief being Cleric Beast on the bridge... Before this point of time, though? It is an aviary for OCs of the size I can't even describe x)
4) There is a reason why Black Church Servants have a more "dangerous" weapon despite 'black' being lower rank to 'white'.
I am talking about these guys, and their annoying Crucifix weapon that activates Frenzy buildup.
It did not quite make it in the final game, presumably because there were only so many ways to make a proper mace-like weapon, but in the concept, Bloodletter was looking a lot like this as well:
I just want to point out that the 'expelling bad blood' aspect is QUITE important here! Bloodletter causes the user to get Frenzy buildup, much like the Crucifix used by Black Church Servants. And the reason it is believed to "help" with the "bad" blood? The fact that Frenzy is connected with the hunt!
I talked about it more in this ( x ) and this ( x ) post, but TLDR; Frenzy spears are literal weapons manifesting from the person's very blood solidfying, Oedon the Great One is inextricably tied with the bloodshed and bullets and the Hunt itself, and blood itself seems to solidfy into those spears bit by bit.
So, they might have ended believing that what deliberately causing Frenzy would do is to unleash whatever it was in person that was getting corrupted - and thus, more subjective to beasthood. Especially, that would work with Black Church, who were "preventive":
4.1) Just like that, White Church Servants correlate with what White Church Doctors do.
The lamp is especially interesting detail, as it is harmless, and only hurts you with the Arcane projectile when you have enough Insight. Meanwhile, Frenzy does hurt stronger the more Insight you have... Truly, in Bloodborne, the Hunt and Eldrich Truth, the Beasts and Kin are simply two sides of the same coin... Just two outcomes in the same corrupt deity's vicious plan.
5) Use or not, but male Church Doctor clothes have weird similarities with 'foreigner clothes'.
It is hard to confirm of deny anything here... Brador has five buttons but Black Church Doctor has four; similarly, the foreigner set our Hunter arrives in has five buttons and White Church Doctor has four. They're the same striped type of a vest though, and they have the same type of buttons, athough Church's is sewn with dark threads but foreigner is with brighter.
It could have been an intentional reference that either was abandoned or is so hard to decipher that we will never get there. We only have subtle hooks towards Paleblood Hunter being not loreless; such as Cainhurst summon we find in the room we woke up at having OUR name written in it, with one of the Cainhurst portraits featuring Golden Pendant adn Church's necklace. I am always lost with the ideas of what might have went down in the past..... or whether 'we' are secretly related to Brador or his land, bwahaha!
6) They ARE, all in all, DOCTORS clothes.
I find it a bit... harder to tell what DO hunters of the Healing Church wear? We find only so many of the NPCs that wear Healing Church Doctor clothes: for black set it is two black hunters in Research Hall (female and male), one guy in Nightmare Frontier and Adella who has no hunting weapons, for white set it is a praying lady in Research Hall and Imposter Iosefka + likely real Iosefka too, that also doesn't hunt. Seven characters, FIVE of which are confirmed to be associated with medicine (...six if being a Blood Nun counts...?); three characters in Research Hall, one is stated to be a doctor, one is a nun, one does Kin experiments that originated from Research Hall.
Would not put the Black Church guy in the Frontier as a drastic contradiction. What I am saying is, they might not even qualify as hunters. Logically, they'd have weapons and get some self-defence skills as they HAVE to kill (people, less so beasts!). Iosefka is never confirmed to fight, Adella uses normie dagger and not even a legit weapon, and four from the remaining five are reclused to the indoors places.
Mostly, I am thinking as I am writing it, as there is an interesting character - Henriett! She is wearing the clothes descending in design from Old Hunters type (not Healing Church type!), yet she has Church weapons (Repeating Pistol and Kirkhammer) and helps to beat Amelia, Ludwig and Laurence. I always felt like she used to be Healing Church's hunter but found something she should not have and detracted... And I presumed she used to wear Black Church clothes (trousers variant to be practical). Buuuuut.
I might actually take this back. Depending on the interpretation, the current hunters of BEASTS, not of PEOPLE that "might" be beasts etc, could either 1) wear Executioner garb like Alfred does 2) wear unique clothes that is yet to be designed, but might be similar to Executioners garb, for example, design mix of doctors' and Executioners, or TOTALLY unique clothing like Gascoigne for example 3) actually wear 'Hunter' set like Henriett and our Paleblood Hunter from promo materials after changing their foreign garb.
On the other hand, Henriett having been one of them paranoids eliminating people falling for beasthood and then snapping out of it could make such a mess of a character's backstory. Not to mention that some Black "doctors" (and occasional White ones) did blend in with Huntsmen mobs, in chaotic mess of no longer being able to tell where is a friend and where is an enemy. No longer caring for those 'showing' signs of beasthood but only those who fully turned. And foreigners, of course! Like, maybe the 'they are not hunters but so-called "doctors" point USED TO be relevant in Old Hunters era, but during the game events it is not relevant ANYMORE, as Yharnam is basically anarchy now.
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Alright, I think I compiled what I had to say!
Mostly, I made this post for the reference to myself as an artist and a writer, and for my friends that might find it useful, but I decided to put it here just in case if someone else could find something here! Also, a headcanon: whereas Ludwig's Holy Blade was based of the OG Holy Moonlight Sword, the Kirkhammer instead was based off the hammer the Pthumerian creator of Holy Moonlight Sword used to forge it! It was discovered waaaay down there. Because Loran already met Yharnam's fate once. Maybe, somewhere in Yharnam, there is still the 'original' Hammer. And it glows in red upon tranforming, rather than how the sword glows in turquoise!
#bloodborne#bloodborne theory#ludwig the holy blade#old hunter henriett#black church servant#white church servant#brador church assassin#bloodborne observations#not art#text post#hhhhhhh sorry i barely use this blog anymore#i always sit in my personal for some reason.....#don't know how to get in the swing of getting to post here regularly like i used to...#after 2022 life simply turned somewhere wrong#Youtube
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thinking about the museum guests who get surprised by our photo of an Irish-Canadian immigrant maid on her wedding day, because she’s dressed indistinguishably from a wealthy woman of the same era (to modern eyes, at least)
and the thirtysomething Black femme sapphic couple I talked to at another museum who had never seen extant images of Black women in fashionable Victorian clothing until that week, and were absolutely delighted by them
thinking about how empowering it can be for historically oppressed people to learn that, no, beauty and elegance and artistic expression within this specific cultural framework were not the exclusive purview of wealthy whites until like 1920
(thinking about who it serves to erase those images and that knowledge from the public consciousness)
#dress history#history#art history#historical fashion#my favorite example is the hoop skirt#because guys those were UBIQUITOUS#cheap to make and cheap to buy#Queen Victoria wore them. Irish immigrant servants wore them. factory workers had to be expressly banned from wearing them#for safety reasons but still- that indicates that they WERE following the fashion#there are even accounts of enslaved women wearing them to church and such#and yet nowadays most Americans associate them exclusively with white Southern Belles(TM)#I've even been asked at events (while wearing 1860s) if northern women in general really wore hoops too
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Sevants (2020)
Ivan Ostrochovský
#ivan ostrochovský#dark#art#black and white#film#javiar#siervos#servants#berlinale#church#communism#slovakia
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in my pursuit of ever-increasingly niche comics, I drew a 13 page comic about Tape v Hurley, a court case about Chinese-American school segregation in 1885. The rest of the pages are after the readmore, as well as on AO3 here. More obsure Chinese American court case comics are there, as well.
Historical Notes
Mary and Joseph Tape were not born in America, but their names and identities were very much formed in America. Joseph Tape was born Jeu Dip in Guangdong, China, immigrated the America when he was twelve, and spent his teenage years working as a house servant in an Irish household. Mary arrived in America at the age of eleven, and was found and raised as Mary McGladery in a Protestant orphanage as the only Chinese child amongst ~80 children. Both Mary and Jeu spent their formative years amongst White Christian families, so when Jeu Dip and Mary married in 1875, little wonder that Jeu picked the English name of Joseph Tape -- Joseph to match with Mary, and the German last name Tape as a nod to his former name of Dip.
The Tape family lived about 14 blocks outside of Chinatown, in a primarily white neighborhood. They dressed in Western clothing, spoke English at home, and Mamie grew up playing with non-Chinese kids. Naturally, they wanted their children to attend the local elementary school, a mere 3 blocks from their home. The principal, Ms. Hurley, denied her entrance, claiming that she was “filthy and diseased.” At the time, there was no public school option for Chinese children -- the 1870 state law stipulated separate schools for “African and Indian children” only, not Chinese. The Tape family, with the help of the Chinese Six Companies, their church, and the Chinese consulate, decided to sue, claiming that the 1880 California school code guaranteed everyone a right to public education and that this was a violation of the 14th Amendment.
They won.
But this was 1885, three years after the passage of the Chinese Exclusion Act and six years before Plessy v Ferguson. Regardless of what the California Supreme Court might decide, public sentiment was on the side of the San Francisco school district. Determined to keep out this “invasion of Mongol barbarism”, the California State Legislature passed a law permitting separate schools for Chinese children, which then allowed Principal Hurley to reject Mamie Tape once more.
While Mamie was rejected from the Spring Valley Elementary School for being Chinese, she also had a hard time fitting in to the Chinese public school. The Chinese merchants saw Western education as something primarily for boys. (Their girl children learned from their mothers at home.) Mamie, a girl dressed in Western clothes, would have stood out like a sore thumb. The final panel of the comic was based on a photo from three years later, and even then, Mamie was the only girl.
Places where I fudged the history: Frank, Mamie’s younger brother, was actually six years old and should have been more present in the comic, but I wante to keep the focus on Mamie and Mary. Also, Mamie had actually shown up to her first day of school in Western clothes. An earlier draft of the comic had a separate arc involving Mamie feeling rejected at school and Mary buying her some Chinese clothes, but that got too long and complicated.
Much of this was drawn from Mae Ngai’s book about the Tape family and their experiences as 2nd and 3rd generation Chinese Americans, titled “The Lucky Ones.”
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Here is Mary Tape's letter to the San Francisco School Board, 1885:
1769 Green Street.
San Francisco, April 8, 1885.
To the Board of Education -
Dear Sirs: I see that you are going to make all sorts of excuses to keep my child out off the Public schools. Dear sirs, Will you please to tell me! Is it a disgrace to be Born a Chinese? Didn’t God make us all!!! What right have you to bar my children out of the school because she is a chinese Decend. They is no other worldly reason that you could keep her out, except that. I suppose, you all goes to churches on Sundays! Do you call that a Christian act to compell my little children to go so far to a school that is made in purpose for them. My children don’t dress like the other Chinese. They look just as phunny amongst them as the Chinese dress in Chinese look amongst you Caucasians. Besides, if I had any wish to send them to a chinese school I could have sent them two years ago without going to all this trouble. You have expended a lot of the Public money foolishly, all because ofa one poor little Child. Her playmates is all Caucasians ever since she could toddle around. If she is good enough to play with them! Then is she not good enough to be in the same room and studie with them? You had better come and see for yourselves. See if the Tape’s is not same as other Caucasians, except in features. It seems no matter how a Chinese may live and dress so long as you know they Chinese. Then they are hated as one. There is not any right or justice for them.
You have seen my husband and child. You told him it wasn’t Mamie Tape you object to. If it were not Mamie Tape you object to, then why didn’t you let her attend the school nearest her home! Instead of first making one pre tense Then another pretense of some kind to keep her out? It seems to me Mr. Moulder has a grudge against this Eight-year-old Mamie Tape. I know they is no other child I mean Chinese child! care to go to your public Chinese school. May you Mr. Moulder, never be persecuted like the way you have persecuted little Mamie Tape. Mamie Tape will never attend any of the Chinese schools of your making! Never!!! I will let the world see sir What justice there is When it is govern by the Race prejudice men! Just because she is of the Chinese decend, not because she don’t dress like you because she does. Just because she is descended of Chinese parents I guess she is more of a American then a good many of you that is going to prewent her being Educated.
Mrs. M. Tape
#original comic#chinese american history#legal history#turns out there's a lot of chinese american court cases#that i have a lot of feelings about#my comic#mine
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Being queer and a Christian is often very difficult. I experience alienation from both sides. Often these two parts of myself feel impossible to reconcile. But, I want to share something beautiful that my priest does that nearly makes me weep every time. The Orthodox Church is not known for its inclusivity or progressiveness. It is ancient and its gears turn slowly. During Holy Communion, those who are not confirmed members of the Church may come forward for a blessing. The blessing is done by gender.
"The servant of God [Name] is blessed..." for men,
"The handmaid of God [Name] is blessed..." for women.
The first time I went up for a blessing, I was hesitant. My gender is no secret and I do not try to hide my queerness. Which blessing would I receive? With sadness, I concluded the priest would do what was simplest and default to my assigned gender.
I stood before him and bowed my head, arms crossed over my (noticeably growing) chest. He raised the golden chalice over my head and lovingly said:
"The beloved of God Quinn is blessed, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, Amen "
He has done this ever since and with this simple action, preaches one of the main, if oft forgotten pillars of Orthodoxy: It does not matter who you are, what pronouns you use, what colour your hair is, what clothes you wear, what mistakes you've made, what trials you have overcome, where you came from or where you are. You are beloved of God just as you are. You are created in the Image of God and are a sacred vessel of beauty, and there is a place for you here.
This is true inclusivity. Not the white liberal veneer placed on so many churches where the cishet, boomer congregation pats themselves on the back for the rainbow flag outside while actively misgendering the trans person sitting in the pew. My priest has not given any big speeches talking about how everyone is loved here. He doesn't have to. His genuine kindness and that of my fellow parishioners are the only sermon marginalised people need to hear. In these moments, the two parts of myself become one and I truly believe that the God I love delights in me.
#queer christian#orthodox christianity#orthodoxleftist#faithfullylgbtq#orthodoxy#trans christian#orthodox church#inclusiveorthodoxy
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I wanna write an AU where Rhaenyra chooses Harwin to marry and their marriage is solidified in the eyes of the Realm.
Immediately, Rhaenyra becomes pregnant. The couple are overjoyed and the kingdom celebrates, excited at the prospect of introducing a brand new prince or princess to the world.
When Prince Jacaerys Targaryen is born, Harwin is absolutely /flooded/ with joy and pride. Jace is his precious boy, his /beautiful/ firstborn son. He looks so much like himself but with Rhaenyra's violet eyes and her gorgeous smile. It doesn't matter to him that his hair isn't white (he doesn't care /what/ the Queen says). Jacaerys is his perfect, special boy.
Not even two years later, Rhaenyra is announced to be pregnant with their second babe. Her stomach doesn't grow nearly as large as it did when she was in her later months carrying Jace which did worry the Maesters just a tad but, Harwin wasn't concerned at all. Rhaenyra was strong, stronger than anyone he knew, if anyone could pull through-it would be his beautiful wife.
And, he was right. Eight months into her pregnancy, albeit a little early, Rhaenyra gave birth to their second son; Lucerys Targaryen. Harwin's precious, sweet little second son. Tinier than most babes he is but as strong as can be nonetheless. He looks like the spitting image of Rhaenyra. Bright violet doe eyes, a button nose with freckles caked across his cheeks, and a sparkling happy smile. When Rhaenyra first laid eyes on him, she sobbed with joy and whispered how he looked so much like her mother; the late Queen Aemma. King Viserys agreed, holding his second grandson and weeping whilst gazing at his sweet face.
It was at this time that the rest of Viserys's children had begun to become more curious about their older sister and their nephews. Prince Aegon often dragged the young Prince Aemond down to sneak into his and Rhaenyra's chambers to get a peek at the two young boys when Luke and Jace were playing.
Harwin wouldn't say anything against the young princes when they sneak in, when they think no one could see them. If anything, it warms his heart to know that, despite Queen Alicent and her bitterness against his wife and their children, her boys nonetheless attempt to be close to their nephews even when their mother argues against it.
Harwin watches, amused as Prince Aegon rushes over to Jace and immediately plops down next to him from where Harwin's eldest boy is playing with his youngest. The two sit on the floor surrounded by tiny dragon wooden cut out toys and Jace squeals as Prince Aegon takes one of the toys and starts playing. Little Luke kicks his tiny four month old feet out and giggles loudly, clapping his hands together.
Prince Aemond takes a little more coaxing but, eventually, they all are playing together on the floor with the sound of happy laughter and childish giggles ringing throughout the room like church bells.
It isn't too long before Rhaenyra returns, entering their chambers and the group of children all whirl to meet her.
"Oh my," She gasps, but she's smiling and little Luke squeals, babbling nonsense and reaching towards his mother. "It seems I have a group of little hatchlings nesting in here. What are you doing away from your mother at this hour, brothers?"
"Playing!" Prince Aegon shouts and stands up, smiling wide as he raises his arms. "Mother forgot to put Aemond down for a nap so I brought him here!"
At that, his wife's smile falters just a tad. It was not secret that Queen Alicent often...neglected her children, leaving them to the servants and wet nurses instead of spending time with them herself.
But, that didn't seem to bother the two young princes as they would often sneak away to come find their nephews anyway.
"All by yourselves?" Rhaenyra asks, concerned and that's when Harwin speaks up from where he was situated beside one of the desks inside their bedroom, hidden from sight but able to keep an eye on the group.
"Don't worry, princess," Harwin spoke up and all heads turned to him. "I've been watching them."
Rhaenyra sighs with relief and stalks towards little Luke who was practically crawling over to her at this point, desperate to get to his mommy. He had always been more attached to her than Harwin but, Harwin supposed he didn't blame his son. He was quite attached to her too.
"Hello, little love," She whispers to her second son as she picks him up and cradles Luke against her chest. He coos and babbles, clutching onto her hair and nuzzling against her. "Yes, hello, my sweet boy. I've missed you too."
"Can we stay, sister? Please, please?" Prince Aegon begs, bouncing on his tip toes as he grabs at her black dress. His eldest sister chuckles and she gently runs a hand through his wavy white hair and he leans into it.
"Ah, well," She sighs in a teasing manner. "I /suppose/ you could stay for a bit while longer."
Prince Aegon and Prince Aemond cheer and Jace and Luke follow along, all of their giggles resounding and joining together.
Harwin and Rhaenyra smile at each other and he walks over to kiss his wife, his girl humming against his lips and he then plants another kiss upon her head and one on little Luke's.
It won't be for some time that they have another babe, many years but, Harwin cherishes each and every moment he has with his family. His perfect family.
#harwin strong#rhaenyra targaryen#lucerys valeryon#lucemond#jacegon#jacaerys targaryen#aegon targaryen#harwin x rhaenyra#aemond targaryen
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ok i am back again w more Real Estate content: extremely rich people edition!!
this is in the most expensive house on sale that i could find ^ sorry im just fascinated by the dog painting
still the same house - honestly overall this place is really nicely decorated but WHAT is with this choice of bathroom wallpaper. oh just pretend you have an audience that's fun
same house!! is this like a literal mancave?? what the hell
is this like. a TV bunker???
more:
ok moving onto a new house. sorry what is with rich people wanting to have Eyes on them while they're peeing.
this is for when you want to take a bath with your buddy but you don't want to be IN the bath with your buddy.
i am DEVASTED to report that this one is on the market unfurnished bcos im dying to know what was in the Plant Room and also tbh i want to know what qualifies a room as a 'snug'.
it DOES have a stained glass window tho!!
not sharing this whole floorplan bcos it was a MASSIVE place but fascinated by this section which i assume is like the former servants' wing?? boot room.
amazing layout here saddened to report it's someone's custom built mansion and not an interesting converted building :(
this is really nice honestly. love to find one that's actually interesting and not white/beige throughout
same place as above. just put a fucking optical illusion in your bathroom why not.
same as above again this is kinda fabulous
!! a converted church once again!! this one has been split into 5 large houses (big church ig??) let's see what they've done with the inside
ok so this is a show home currently (I think??) which is why it's so bland. kudos for retaining a lot of church features tho.
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Hi lovely, how are you? Is it possible i request something with immense amounts of ✨fluff✨(with any character you feel like writing for because I love everyone tbh)? Like, i need it these past two weeks were absolutely terrible and now i can barely breathe because it feels like im being stabbed in my left side every inhale/movement. Anyway I hope you're doing great 🩷🩷🩷🩷
I apologize that it had taken me so long but still hope this makes your day even a little bit better.
The library
“And this is the library”, Helion muttered under his breath. If only his friends would see him now. He was a mess. Had been. Ever since you walked through the door of the sanctuary, seeking a safe place to stay now that Autumn had been filled with unease and rebellious anger. Yes, he had servants that usually showed every guest around. But there was something about you. And he had been so utterly lonely. Stuck between these white walls.
You let out a gasp as you stepped in. The high shelves hugged everyone's wall. Lush greenery fell from the arrangements in the middle. It felt as if you had stepped into a dream. “You said you liked books during our lunch yesterday”, Helion gently guided you deeper into the room, “So, I thought you would like to see it”. You shook your head slightly, “This is.. magical. I don’t think I have words to describe it”.
A sense of pride bloomed deep within Helion’s chest, “I’ve never let anyone into my private library before”. You turned to face him quickly, “This isn’t the library your court is known for?”, the lord simply shook his head as you gapped at him. you had head stories. You knew that the high lord took pride in his collection but you didn’t know he had a part of that tucked somewhere away just for him. “Why would you take me here?”, you asked only afterward realizing how silly and almost rude the question sounded.
Yes, he had been nothing but kind to you. Yes, he had gone out of his way to ensure that you were safe and comfortable. But he was the high lord and you were just an ordinary from a foreign court. “I won’t be able to repay you for…”, you breathed out and something so sad washed over the high lord’s face. “Do you think I’m doing all this to get something out of you?”, he asked quietly. He was known for his reputation. The flirting. The passion he carried into his relationships. But through the weeks with him, you hadn’t caught a single sign that would lead you to believe that he wasn’t genuine with you.
“I apologize if I came across as desperate”, Helion frowned slightly. “Oh, no! Mother above, I would never think that”, you breathed out, a wave of fear washing over you. “It’s just… bad experience from the past. Autumn isn’t the sweetest of places”, you admitted. Helion nodded in agreement, “It just felt like light calling to light when I saw you”, he breathed out.
“Made me realize that I do not have people close to me, people I like spending time with”, your eyes softened at his words as you reached out for his hand. “I loved getting to know you, Helion. You’ve shown me nothing but kindness”, you smiled up at him. He mirrored your face before turning to the little table, “I picked these for you”, he pulled out a couple of well-loved copies, “Thought you might want to read them and we could talk about them. But only if you want of course”, he said and you could swear his cheeks pinked ever so slightly.
You bit your lip, “Are these by any chance your favorite?”, you asked brushing your fingers over the cracked spines. “Yeah, I’m almost certain that one of them is missing a page or two”, you both churched slightly at his confirmation.
“Well, then I would be delighted to read them”, your eyes met his once more, and the happiness that radiated from Helion was impossible to miss. But he quickly arranged his emotions, opting for a nod. “Maybe after I am back from my work trip we could meet here”, he muttered. You stepped closer, standing on your tippy toes as you pressed a gentle kiss on his cheek, “Yeah, I’ll be looking forward to it”, you breathed, feeling your cheeks heating.
#helion x reader#helion imagine#helion x you#helion x oc#helion acotar imagine#helion acotar x reader#acotar imagine#acotar x reader#acotar x you
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can you please write more for benedict ?? i love the one you did about his muse !!! (no pressure obvs <33)
a dream with an artist - oneshot
b. bridgerton x reader.
a/n: yess tysm! also this is based off the faye webster song called a dream with a baseball player :)
sitting on a chaise, you were surrounded by the warmth of the sunlight. it was slowly turning into the evening. you were reading a book, with benedict's head on your lap. stroking his hair softly as you read the words on the page out loud. his soft snores echoing in the drawing room.
his hands that were now fallen, were occupied with his sketch book and quill. he had dozed off while sketching items in the room to your voice.
"lady y/n! lady y/n!"
and you woke up. sitting up, you saw your lady's maid standing at the entrance of your door.
"well good morning to you as well, miss. clark," you yawned and stretched. "what ever seems to be the problem?"
"miss y/n, pardon my intrusion, but your grandmother has passed this morning," miss. clark bows deeply. you could feel your heart shatter.
as the daughter of a marquis, your family has lots of power. power that could be taken advantage of. you knew because of your grandmothers death that many men would console you in an attempt to rise the ranks. though you knew you had your eyes set on a certain bridgerton, you had to be careful.
miss clark raises from her bow at her silence, and passes you the letter. opened, which you presume was because of your mother, and you could see the stamp of black wax on the end of it.
the letter described that your grandmother had passed in her sleep, discovered by one of her servants. it was expected of your family to be at her funeral in a churchyard. her wishes are to be surrounded by her family and other family friends.
off you were, facing your mother and father on the other side of a carriage. dressed in black italian gauze over a white slip, black gloves reaching until your elbow, you looked out the window. the drive was quiet, as your father acted as stoic as ever and your mother itching to say something. she tapped her finger rapidly on her knee, as if to muster up courage.
"you know, dearest, the bridgertons may be there," she said awkwardly.
you raised an eyebrow at her. it would make sense that they would- your mother and dowager viscountess bridgerton being close friends. you wish you could say the same to her children. the only way you've interacted with any of them is with benedict in your dreams.
"that's interesting, mother," you tried to dismiss.
usually when mourning, you didn't like to talk. a bit overcome with sadness. it would be easy for you to avoid people at the funeral, being known as mysterious to the ton. the carriage arrived at the church as your parents exited first. you walked up, hearing whispers about you as you did.
as the society mourning continued, you had spaced out the entire time. the reception was over before you knew it, and you were at your mothers side to accept any prayers.
the bridgerton family were over, giving their thoughts and prayers. while you weren't paying attention, you finally looked up from the ground. only to make eye contact with the second oldest bridgerton. you two shared the moment, as if telling each other to meet later and talk.
so you did, after the amount of families you have talked to. you were at a table, enjoying the sights of finger food and eavesdropping. you turned around as someone cleared his throat behind you.
"lady y/n pemberton," benedict announced. "good to see you."
he took your hand and pressed a kiss against it, causing a faint heat creep up on your cheeks.
"a pleasure to see you as well, mr. bridgerton," you replied, clearing your throat. "thank you for your prayers earlier."
realizing your mistake, you had tried to correct yourself.
"and your families' as well! it was sweet," you scrambled.
he chuckled lightly at your response. "no problem. i hope everything goes well in mourning of course?"
to this you simply nod. wanting to melt away in the crowd due to your embarrassment.
he bid his farewells, which you returned. red on your face increasing.
how did you fall in love with someone you didn't know?
#☎️ cherry’s line!#benedict bridgerton x you#x reader#bridgerton x reader#benedict bridgerton imagine#benedict bridgerton x reader#benedict bridgerton#bridgerton
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On September 10th we venerate Elevated Ancestor, Voodoo Queen of Louisiana, & Saint, Marie Catherine Laveau on her 222nd birthday 🎉
[for our Hoodoos of the Vodou Pantheon]
Marie Catherine Laveau was a dedicated Hoodoo, healer, herbalist, & midwife who, "traveled the streets [of New Orleans] like she owned them", as the most infamous Voodoo Queen of New Orleans.
Marie C. Laveau I was born a "Free Mulatto" in today's French Quarter in what was then, New France); to a mother & grandmother who were both born into slavery & later freed via freedom papers. It is believed that she grew up in the St. Ann Street cottage of her maternal grandmother.
She married Jacques Santiago-Paris, a "Quadroon" "Free Man of Color", who fled as a refugee from Saint-Domingue, Haiti from the Haitian Revolution in the former French colony . After his passing, she became known as "The Widow Paris". She then worked as a hairdresser catering to White families & later entered a domestic partnership with a French nobleman his death. She excelled at obtaining inside information on her wealthy patrons by instilling fear in their servants whom she either paid or cured of mysterious ailments. Although she never abandoned her Catholic roots, she became increasingly interested in her mother’s African traditional beliefs. The Widow Paris learned her craft from a ‘Voodoo doctor’ known variously as Doctor John or John Bayou.
Marie C. Laveau I is said to have intiated into Voodoo career sometime in the 1820s. She's believed to be descended from a long line of Voodoo Priestesses, all bearing her same name. She was also a lifelong devout Catholic. It didn’t take long before Marie C. Laveau I dominated New Orleans Voodoo culture & society before claiming title of Queen. She was the 3rd Voodoo Queen of NOLA - after Queen Sanité Dédé & Queen Marie Salopé. During her decades tenure, she was the premier beacon of hope and service to customers seeking private consultations - to aid in matters such as family disputes, health, finances, etc, created/sold gris gris, perforemed exorcisms. While her daughter Marie II was known for her more theatrical displays of public events, Marie C. Laveau I was less flamboyant in her persona. She conducted her work in 3 primary locations throughout the city: her home on St. Ann Street, Congo Square, & at Lake Pontchartrain. Despite one account of a challenge to her authority in 1850, Marie C. Laveau I maintained her leadership & influence.
The Queen died peacefully in her sleep in her ole cottage home on St. Ann Street. Her funeral was conducted according to the rite of the Catholic Church & in the absence of any Voodoo rites. To her Voodoo followers, she's venerated as a Folk Saint. In² addition to her Priesthood in Voodoo and title of Queen, she is also remembered for her community activism; visiting prisoners, providing lessons to women of the community, & doing ritual work for those in need.
She is generally believed to have been buried in plot 347, the Glapion family crypt in Saint Louis Cemetery No. 1, New Orleans. As of March 1st, 2015, there is no longer public access to St. Louis Cemetery No. 1. Entry with a tour guide is required due to continued vandalism & tomb raiding.
We pour libations & give her💐 today as we celebrate her for her love for & service to the people, through poverty, misfortune, bondage, & beyond.
Offering suggestions: flowers + libations at her grave, catholic hymns, holy water, gold rings/bracelets, money
‼️Note: offering suggestions are just that & strictly for veneration purposes only. Never attempt to conjure up any spirit or entity without proper divination/Mediumship counsel.‼️
#hoodoo#hoodoos#atr#atrs#the hoodoo calendar#conjure#rootwork#rootworkers#ancestor veneration#Marie c Laveau#Voodoo#Voodoo Queens#new orleans#new orleans Voodoo#Vodou Pantheon#Haitian Voodou
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Can I get a mafia yoongi Drabble where they are forced to get married. But at the last second the reader runs away and thinks the coast is clear but yoongi finds her and smut ensues??
Nah because I actually had a lot of fun writing this one 😭😭 I also tried writing with “Y/N” so let me know if you like it!
Warnings: mentions of smut (not completely tho), slight angst in a way??, runaway bride 🏃♀️👰♀️, kinda yandere vibes
The rain pounded against the windows of the small church as Y/N stood at the altar, her heart racing with fear and uncertainty. She couldn't believe this was happening. She was being forced to marry one of the most feared mafia leaders in the country, Min Yoongi.
She had always known about Yoongi and his infamous reputation in the underworld, but she never thought she would be caught up in it. Her father, who was deeply in debt to Yoongi, had made a deal with him to marry Y/N in order to clear his debts.
Y/N's hands were shaking as she held onto her bouquet of white roses, her mind racing with thoughts of escape. But she knew deep down that there was no way out. She was trapped in this marriage and there was nothing she could do about it.
As the priest began the ceremony, Y/N's eyes darted around the room, searching for any possible way out. But her hopes were dashed as she saw Yoongi's men stationed at every exit, guns at the ready.
'Y/N, do you take Min Yoongi as your lawfully wedded husband, to love and to cherish, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?' the priest asked, his voice echoing in the quiet church.
Y/N's heart was pounding in her chest as she looked at the man standing before her, his dark eyes filled with a mix of determination and anger. She knew she had no choice but to say yes.
'I-I do,' she stuttered, her voice barely audible.
'Yoongi, do you take Y/N as your lawfully wedded wife, to love and to cherish, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?' the priest asked, turning to face Yoongi.
Yoongi's gaze never left Y/N's as he answered, 'I do.'
The priest pronounced them husband and wife, and Yoongi wasted no time in pulling Y/N into a searing kiss. Y/N tried to pull away, but Yoongi's grip on her was too strong. She could feel his anger and frustration through the roughness of his kiss.
As they pulled away, Y/N's mind was racing with thoughts of escape. She needed to get out of here, before it was too late. But before she could make a move, Yoongi's voice cut through her thoughts.
'Let's go home, Mrs. Min,' he said, a smirk playing on his lips.
Y/N's heart dropped at the sound of those words. She was now officially married to one of the most dangerous men in the country, and there was no turning back.
As they arrived at Yoongi's luxurious mansion, Y/N was greeted by a group of women who were to be her new servants. They showed her to her room, which was more like a prison cell. It had no windows and only one door, which she knew was guarded at all times.
Y/N couldn't believe the situation she was in. She was trapped in a loveless marriage to a man she barely knew, and she had no way out. But she refused to give up. She would find a way to escape, no matter what it took.
As the days went by, Y/N tried to make the best of her situation. She would often find Yoongi in his study, surrounded by his men, discussing business. She could see the ruthless side of him during those meetings, and it only made her fear him more.
But as the nights went by, Y/N found herself drawn to Yoongi's bedroom. She couldn't explain the pull she felt towards him, but she knew she needed him. She needed to feel something other than fear and resentment.
One night, as she lay in her bed, she heard noises coming from Yoongi's room. She couldn't resist the urge to see what was happening, so she quietly made her way to his room and peeked through the slightly open door.
Her breath caught in her throat as she saw Yoongi with another woman, his hands roaming her body as they kissed passionately. Y/N's heart shattered at the sight, but she couldn't look away.
Suddenly, Yoongi's eyes snapped open and he caught sight of Y/N standing in the doorway. Without a word, he pulled the woman off of him and stormed towards Y/N.
'What are you doing here?' he growled, his eyes blazing with anger.
'I-I heard noises and I-I wanted to see what was happening,' Y/N stuttered, trying to keep her voice steady.
'Get out,' Yoongi spat, his hand grabbing Y/N's arm and pushing her out of the room, slamming the door shut behind her.
Y/N couldn't hold back her tears as she made her way back to her room. She couldn't believe that Yoongi was already cheating on her, just days after their forced marriage. She felt so alone and trapped, with no one to turn to.
But little did she know, Yoongi was also feeling trapped. He didn't want this marriage any more than she did, but he had no choice. He needed to maintain his reputation and keeping Y/N as his wife was the only way to do that.
As the days went by, Y/N couldn't shake off the feeling of being watched. She could feel Yoongi's gaze on her at all times, and it only made her more anxious. She knew she needed to get out of here, before it was too late.
One night, as she lay in bed, she heard a noise outside her room. She cautiously got up and made her way to the door, hoping it was someone who could help her escape.
But as she opened the door, she was met with darkness. Suddenly, a strong hand grabbed her from behind and a cloth was placed over her mouth. She tried to scream, but the cloth muffled her voice. Before she could fight back, she fell into a deep sleep.
When she woke up, she found herself in a small cabin in the middle of nowhere. She looked around, confused and disoriented, until she saw Yoongi sitting in a chair across from her, a cold expression on his face.
'What is this place?' Y/N asked, her voice trembling with fear.
'It's a safe house,' Yoongi answered, his voice devoid of any emotion.
'Why am I here?' Y/N asked, her heart pounding in her chest.
'Because you tried to run away. I can't have my wife trying to escape,' Yoongi said, his eyes never leaving Y/N's.
Y/N's heart dropped at the mention of her forced marriage. She couldn't believe that she was still stuck in this situation.
'Please, just let me go. I won't tell anyone, I promise,' Y/N pleaded, tears streaming down her face.
'I can't do that, Y/N. You know too much about me and my business. I can't risk you going to the authorities,' Yoongi said, his voice cold and calculated.
Y/N's heart shattered at his words. She was just a pawn in his game, a means to maintain his power and control. She felt so helpless and alone.
But as the days went by, Y/N and Yoongi's relationship began to change. They started talking more and slowly, Y/N began to see a different side of Yoongi. He wasn't just a ruthless mafia leader, he was also a man who had been forced into this life, just like her.
One night, as they sat by the fire, Yoongi reached out and took Y/N's hand in his. She looked at him, surprised by his sudden gesture.
'I know this isn't the ideal situation, Y/N. But I want you to know that I won't hurt you. I never wanted this marriage, but I promise to protect you and keep you safe,' Yoongi said, his voice sincere.
Y/N's heart melted at his words. She never thought she would find any sort of comfort in this situation, but Yoongi's words gave her a glimmer of hope.
As they sat there, holding hands and talking, their conversation turned into something more. Yoongi's lips were on hers, and she couldn't resist him any longer. She needed this, she needed to feel something other than fear and resentment.
Their kiss turned into something more passionate and intense, and before they knew it, they were making love on the floor of the cabin. Their bodies moved in perfect synchronization, their moans filling the small space.
As they lay there, tangled in each other's arms, Y/N couldn't believe what had just happened. She had just made love to her forced husband, the man she was supposed to fear and hate.
But as Yoongi held her close, she couldn't deny the feelings she had for him. She knew that this was wrong and that she should hate him, but she couldn't. She was falling for him, and there was no turning back.
From that day on, Y/N and Yoongi's relationship changed. They were no longer just a forced couple, but two people who had found solace and love in the most unexpected situation.
As they returned to the mansion, Y/N knew that things would be different from now on. She was no longer a prisoner in this marriage, but a willing partner to the man she loved.
And as they walked through the door, hand in hand, Y/N couldn't help but feel grateful for the unexpected turn of events. She had found love in the most unlikely of places, and she wouldn't have it any other way.
#bts#bts army#bangtan#bts fanfic#bts x reader#bts smut#mafia yoongi#yoongi#yoongi x reader#min yoongi#mafia smut#mafia#mafia au#runaway bride
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Venerable Henriette DeLille
Servant of Slaves
1812-1862
Patronage: Racial justice
Henriette Delille was born, a "free woman of color" in New Orleans, Louisiana, in 1812. Her father was a white man of French descent. Henriette founded the Sisters of the Holy Family, a Black religious congregation, to care for the slaves, free people of color, elderly, infirmed and poor, catechizing and providing for their physical needs. She worked heroically to bring people to God through reform, peaceful direction, and missionary work until her death at 52. She is the first United States native-born African American whose cause for canonization has been opened by the Catholic Church.
Prints, plaques & holy cards available for purchase here: (website)
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Hello,
some lawlu brainrot from another anon.
Before Flevance fell, Law masturbated to Nika at least once.
This one was drink-spit-worthy but yes, I agree. I have always supported the idea that in Wano, Law is a 'man who stopped believing god who sees god for the first time'. There's even a post somewhere in the depths with that exact verbiage. So, here you go, a little headcanon about Law, a man who stopped believing in his god Nika, meeting his ex-god and how I think it would play out. Best be assured I am RUNNING to make this a full blown oneshot.
Like any good religious boy, Law sometimes got horny over the iconography of his god. He couldn't help it, Nika was hot with his flowing white hair, red eyes, and incredibly hot body. A perfect specimen, as a god should be. Sometimes Law even touched himself to the thought of Nika, he couldn't help his lusty preteen behavior though he was incredibly ashamed of it as an adult.
Imagine his shock when he sees the beautiful god he had spent his childhood worshipping bursting through the ceiling in the form of his alliance partner whom he had saved and who had saved him in return.
It seems Luffy doesn't understand who or what Nika is, simply calling it Gear 5 and a new power of his. However, the moment Law saw him on that rooftop, he knew exactly who Luffy had become. From the statutes of his church to the altars in the homes of his family and friends, Law has seen that face. Nika. Luffy is Nika.
Later, after Luffy realizes he is Nika and what that means, Law feels guilty knowing he had been attracted to Nika in a sexual way. He's always been secretly attracted to Luffy too, but that's a deep dark secret he intended to take to the grave. He confesses his sins like the religious man he is, apologizing to Luffy for seeing him in that way and promising to follow him and treat him with the respect he deserves.
Luffy's confused, he doesn't even know what a Nika is. He's not a god he's just Luffy. He doesn't want to be treated with that kind of respect and he's always felt the same way about Law but he didn't realize what it meant until he saw Law for the first time after he connected with his new form which apparently was called Nika. When he laid eyes on Law after he woke up from his sleep in Wano and found Law, he was almost glowing. He was so pretty with his wary and always on-guard golden eyes, his perfect jawline, fluffy hair, and amazing muscled body that looked like art with all those black lines of his tattoos. Luffy realized then he liked Law as MORE than just a friend and that he should have noticed this long ago.
Luffy tells Law he doesn't want to be worshipped by anyone and that Law is his equal but if he really wants to get on his knees for him he'd be more than happy to let Law pray to him in other ways. Law almost passes out, he's never heard Luffy talk like this but damn is it hot.
Luffy activates gear 5 and is floating in front of him with his legs spread and a seductive smile on his face and Law can't help but do exactly what he said, dropping to his knees in awe that the sheer radiance of the god he once worshipped who was now right here in front of him, offering himself up like a buffet.
Though Law stopped believing in Nika after the world beat him down over and over, he can't deny his existence now that he sees him with his own eyes. So, like any religious person, he is greedy for his god's love and he decides to takes full advantage of this blessed opportunity he has been given.
He finds that his god is very good at pleasing his servants (Law acknowledged the 'we're equals' part but he hasn't quite accepted it yet, he's still in shock). However, once they're done and he's almost passed out from how amazingly demanding and insane the sex wa, Nika turns back into Luffy once again.
In that moment Law realizes it's not Nika but Luffy in Gear 5 who gives Law the most mind-breaking, unfathomable, borderline impossible sex of his life with Nika's powers that he has inherited. It's not Nika who he wanted to praise and show his love for, it was Luffy. He doesn't need a god to save him, he already has one who has performed miracles over and over, saving him from dying at the hands of Doflamingo.
Law concludes that Luffy isn't Nika, he's still the same Luffy he's always known only now he has the power of the god and that's totally fine with him. He didn't need Nika's love before and he doesn't need it now. All he needs is Luffy's affection and damn does he get it because, like any god-but-not-god, Luffy is very good to his favorites. Luffy is upset with himself for not realizing this before and vows to take full advantage of his time with Law from now on.
--
I will recycle this image that I used in my previous Law seeing G5 Luffy/Nika for the first time because it is that good and fits perfectly here:
#idk how this turned into a whole headcanon but here we are#damnit this needs to be a oneshot now#sighs and opens docs#it WILL have the improper use of devil fruit tag#as an ex catholic schoolgirl i support this narrative#NOT THAT I WAS ATTRACTED TO ANY RELIGIOUS FIGURES MAKING THAT CLEAR#i cooked with this one#one piece#law#trafalgar law#luffy#lawlu#monkey d luffy#lulaw#lawxluffy#trafalgar d water law#one piece law#lawlu fanfic#one piece lawlu#lawluffy#minni headcanons
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I've now reached the last of the main list of Cinderella stories from Cinderella Tales Around the World. The book is nowhere near over, though: after this it goes into the various "subtypes" of Cinderella, such as Donkeyskin.
The last few "official" Cinderella stories in this book are from Mexico and Chile. I was disappointed not to see more South American versions, and particularly that there were none from Brazil for @ariel-seagull-wings. But the Donkeyskin tales later in the book do include a Brazilian version, which I look forward to sharing!
Meanwhile...
*As in the versions from the Philippines, the heroine is named Maria in all three of these Latin American tales.
*The Mexican version is called Maria Cenzia, or "Cinder-Mary." The title character is a homeless orphan who lives in an ash-hole belonging to a household of black Moorish witches. They eventually discover her, take her in as a servant, and send her to the river with a black sheepskin, ordering her to wash it until it's white. But a lady appears and magically does the task for her, then gives her a magic wand to grant her wishes and puts a shining star on her forehead. When the jealous daughter of one of the witches sees this, she takes a black sheepskin to the river too, but the lady puts an ugly growth on her forehead instead of a star. Maria later uses her magic wand to give herself finery to wear to church and to give herself wings to fly home before the witches can catch her. She loses a shoe, of course, which leads to her marriage to the prince. But then the witches turn her into a dove with a magic pin. Yet one day, her father-in-law the king finds her and takes out the pin, breaking the spell, and when all is revealed, the witches are burned at the stake.
*The two Chilean versions, Maria the Cinder-Maiden and Maria the Ash-Girl, are nearly identical to each other and very similar to Maria Cenzia too. Maria persuades her father to marry a seemingly-kind widow with a daughter of her own, but is abused afterwards. She has a pet cow, which the stepmother spitefully has killed, but inside its body Maria finds a magic wand. She then has to wash the cow's organs in a stream, but they fall in and are swept away. An old woman comes along and offers to get them for her, and in return Maria cleans her house and cooks supper for her; for this, the old woman gives Maria a shining star on her forehead. The next day the envious stepsister has her own pet cow killed, takes the organs to the stream, and loses them on purpose, but she shows the old woman no kindness, and so she receives a turkey wattle on her forehead instead of a star. Some time later, there's a ball at the royal palace. Maria uses her wand to give herself finery and a coach, and of course she loses a shoe, and the prince uses it to search for her. The stepsister binds her own foot with tight bandages to make the slipper fit, but either a dog or a parrot alerts the prince, and Maria is found.
*It's interesting that the motif of the heroine receiving a shining mark on her forehead (a star, a moon, or a jewel) is found in Cinderella tales from both Latin America and Iran, yet rarely seen elsewhere. My guess is that the motif originated in the Middle East, was brought to Spain by the Arabs, and then traveled from Spain to Latin America.
*This is probably as good a time as any to discuss another recurring theme I've noticed. While around the world it varies whether the heroine's abusers are punished, forgiven, or neither, it seems that when they are punished, the worst punishment usually falls on the (step)sister(s), not the (step)mother. Just look at the Grimms' version: the stepmother is Aschenputtel's main antagonist, and she abuses her own daughters too by forcing them to cut off parts of their feet, yet in the end she goes unpunished, while her daughters' eyes are pecked out by birds. Yet even in versions where the (step)mother does get a punishment, the more brutal killing, maiming, or permanent disfigurement tends to be reserved for her daughter(s). Some versions try to justify it by portraying the sisters as abusing Cinderella more than their mother does, but most don't bother. In many versions, the simple "crime" of being Cinderella's rival is treated as if it were worse than being her chief abuser.
@ariel-seagull-wings, @adarkrainbow, @themousefromfantasyland
#cinderella#fairy tale#variations#cinderella tales from around the world#heidi ann heiner#mexico#chile#tw: violence#tw: racism
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ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: religious cole cassidy x male reader
ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: Cole Cassidy knows himself a man of faith
ʀᴇ𝐐: no ~ ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 2.88k
ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: 3rd person POV, religion, catholisism, murder, guns, hunting, internalized homophobia, implied sex (non-descriptive), use of the words "Satan" and "devil"
ᴍᴀʏʙ'ꜱ ɴᴏᴛᴇ: my only knowledge of religion is going to a religious school from Pre-K to 12.
The inspo + blue eye samurai
☾⋆☆⋆☽
Cole Cassidy was a man of faith. He recited the Lord's prayer in the mornings, said his grace before meals—he spoke His name into His night of sparse stars like a man persecuted on the cross, though in his life, he had always confessed to the Father at his local Church, bathed under the reds, greens and blues and yellows of the stained glass windows; he had atoned for everything he'd done, despite his motivation always being to carry out his duty for the Lord, as He intended.
And even as his bounties for men starved from God and veered off His path took him out of his town and into unexplored lands, he finished his work in time for the Lord's day, which he would, on his name and His too, never violate.
Cole Cassidy had done everything for Him the moment he was taught of His existence. Because He had given him this blessing of life, or living free, and He had given His son's life so he could live free of sin.
Who was Cole Cassidy if not a servant of the Lord? What was his Peacekeeper for, if not for his mortal duty?
Cole thinks he should not ask such questions—even the thought of such a possibility would be a desecration of the Lord's plan.
Time and time again, the Lord has tested him, and time and time again, his faith never shook.
But this, this wasn't the Lord testing him. This was the work of Satan, or the man, no, the devil, himself.
This was the devil before him, he was sure, and he was masquerading as a man, a mortal, just like him, no, the devil could never be just like him.
His hat was stitched in gold and tipped over his eyes; it was black, as was the leather of his vest and his shoes, and the canvas of his pants.
Though, when Cole first laid eyes upon him, it was not the color of His night that he saw, but crimson.
Bold, screaming, thick crimson.
Accompanied by him was the sound of death, shot after shot, bullets bouncing, gunpowder blazing, the roll of the cylinder and the tick tick tick, of bullets inserted into each chamber.
There were four ticks, of six chambers in the cylinder, two were empty.
Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang.
Four men dead, and that was all. Silence.
Cole thought he had anticipated the number meticulously, counted the victims before them, and even before, counted the number of people he'd remove prematurely from the Lord's plan.
Until the devil aimed his revolver, and Cole forgot the ticks he'd counted as the barrel aligned with his nose, and bang.
The revolver fired empty.
The devil chuckled, he lifted his gaze, and Cole saw his lips, widened with a maniacal joy, perfectly white teeth bared; and his eyes were covered with green lensed, golden frames, and yet his eyes remained brown.
Cole faced death every day of the week except the first, and he was never scared, because he knew the Lord had planned of him something greater, but this day, finally, he felt fear.
But the revolver fired air, and he should be relieved, but he isn't. He's stuck in place, because the devil is walking towards him, tracking a careless trail through piles of people, carcasses, like it wasn't a maze, but tall blades of grass under his nose.
Cole remained stuck in place when the devil put the barrel under his chin and fired, again, nothing but air. The force of it still hurt, and it roused Cole out of his stupor, but again, he remained in place, cornered by Satan himself.
"You are alive," the devil says, "by fate. You must be a God's boy."
Cole almost corrected him, almost reprimanded him for uttering the Lord's name without respect, and for even suggesting that there were more than one Lord, as though the devil himself worshiped the stone statue under the pelting of the angry sky. All until Cole caught his tongue, for fear, again, of the devil's golden revolver and, as he realized that he was merely calling him one of the Lord's believers.
Yes, Cole Cassidy wanted to say, because to be ashamed of being one of the Lord's children was to curse Him, but by fear, again, he held his tongue, for if the devil knew he was, he would load a bullet into a chamber and be done with it. He kept quiet, again, cursing his Father, and he would be sure to confess for it as soon as the devil was gone.
Satan answered it himself, however, with a word. "Yes." He knew, and yet he lowered his revolver. "Go seek your God."
Cole remained in place, even as the devil turned his back to him and removed his red shawl, and as he folded the fabric and showed off the underside, Cole noticed it was truly green.
"Is that your bike?" The devil turned his head to the side, and Cole finally moved to nod. "I need it. May I borrow it?"
A question, so respectful in its wording, and yet it was a lie. He knew it himself as he laughed, "No? Alright. Allow me to hitch a ride. The nearest town, if you please."
He beckoned him with two fingers, and he stood idly by as Cole mounted the bike, then took a seat behind him.
Cole took off, the devil on his bike and pressed behind his back, where none but His sunlight should shine.
But instead, His sunlight illuminated the devil's back, a sick joke.
☾⋆☆⋆☽
When Cole parked his bike at the nearest Church, the devil did nothing but raise a brow and follow suit.
The cowboy ignored the devil as he walked the long rows of pews, his boots over the red carpet of the aisle that doesn't change color when the devil walks behind him.
When he came before the monument of his Father, he kneeled and he prayed.
The devil took a seat, and he watched, and he listened; but Cole didn't care, even as he prayed for forgiveness for denying the fact, via silence, that he was his Lord's child. The cowboy continued to murmur audibly into his hands to forgive the man behind him, that He forgive him for the blood on his hands and staining his clothes, for the bullets he's used and for the lives he's stolen.
The corner of the man's lips rose, but his venomous fangs didn't bare. He watched the man in front of his Lord's monument, kneeling on his knees over rough carpet, bathed in the glow of the rainbow of sunlight shined through stained windows, and he listened to his words.
As Cole spoke his last word, amen, the devil laughed. Cole remained on his knees as the devil stood and walked behind him, until again he came to a stop.
"You pray for me?" He says, "How kind."
And that is all he says.
Cole finally speaks to him as they both leave the Church, and as the man seemingly waits for him. "What are your intentions?" The cowboy asks, though his voice is not clear of fear, he tries to keep his confidence.
"I am a man in a foreign land." He removes his hat and places it over his chest, his smile turning warm, and manipulative, "I am in need of shelter. Will you, kind believer, grant me what I need?"
Cole knew it was his duty to give shelter to that which needs it, and the devil before him knew it too; but even with this plain act of utter manipulation, Cole is not at disposal to say no.
He mounts his bike and waits for the devil to steal his righteous sunlight.
☾⋆☆⋆☽
When Cole opens the door for him, the man takes off his hat. He knows his manners. He stands by the door, and Cole turns to look at him once it is locked. The cowboy remains silent, his expression forcibly neutral, and it does nothing except light the man's gorgeous smile.
"Thank you."
Cole knows his manners too.
"You're welcome."
The cowboy heads deeper inside his house, unaccompanied by the click of the man's spurs; he thinks it curious, so he turns, and realizes he's gone.
Cole Cassidy thinks it a miracle by faith, and heaves a sigh of relief. The devil was indeed just a test by his Lord; at least, that is what he thinks, but there is a creeping feeling under his skin that his thoughts are nothing but false.
This creeping suspicion is proven nothing but correct as the man returns later that evening with a savaged deer Cole knows he did not thank the Lord for. He sets it down at the kitchen table, careful not to spill its animal blood and make a mess. He does not realize, however, that he is tracking evidence of his earlier kills over Cole's floor.
With the motherly tut of his tongue, Cole pushes the man to the tub and leaves him to draw his own bath.
Dutifully to himself, he cleans up the mess the man has made.
When the man is done with his bath, he comes out of the shower dripping wet, and Cole tuts his tongue again, another mess to clean. However, he does this after allowing his eyes to drag from the top of the man's head, down his surprisingly naturally colored eyes and down the rest of his work-sculpted body, all the way down to his veiny feet.
Dutifully to his faith, Cole clothes the man, and then to himself once more, he mops up the– relatively better–pools of water, leading into the bathroom until he sees the pile of his clothes. Cole picks them up in his hands, leaving the boots, hat, and glasses, and goes outside.
Tonight, as he cooks up a stew of fresh game, he does not use his electrical stove as he usually does, but the traditional stove outside. The fire burns irregularly, and when the man comes down to see, he is only amused. The very end of a red pant leg lays unscathed outside of the fire, and the man pushes it back inside.
When Cole turns to see him, he is happy to see him devoid of gold, for it is his Lord's color, and him wearing it is pure savagery; so again, he is happy.
After feeding the man, as his faith calls, Cole heads up and nods off into a rocky sleep; as, even though he knows he is doing the right thing, he can't help but be unnerved by the presence of another.
☾⋆☆⋆☽
Gold is the color of his Lord, of His riches under the very same name that He has bestowed upon mankind to be its treasure. It is the color of His sunrises and the color of His sunlight, the very same that bathes over him as Cole kneels by the window and recites the Lord's prayer.
He is aware of the man as he leans against Cole's doorway, unabashedly intruding upon his private space.
When the prayer is done, Cole starts to change into his day clothes. The cowboy tries to remain passive as he notices the man's gaze flow over his body, from the tips of his ears and the back of his hair, down the expanse of his worked back and his hairy legs.
"Good morning." Cole simply greets as he walks past him.
"Good morning." He replies.
That morning, the man graciously helps him with his chores, from cooking breakfast, sweeping and mopping the house, to hanging the clothes under the Lord's sunlight.
That afternoon, as Cole cleans his Peacemaker in the backyard shed, the man watches. Finally, he speaks.
"What brought you to faith?"
"I was born into it. For that, I am grateful."
"And you do not know a life without God?"
"I do not."
Sensing that Cole is uncomfortable with the conversation, the man switches to something else, then more topics. He carries the conversation, switching from how Cole came to be the owner of his land, the owner of his bike, and to how he became such a kind man.
He asked the final question with: give me a reason outside of faith. Cole laughed, and said he had no answer, and the man thought it sounded heavenly.
Finally, Cole opened up with his own question, then another, and another after that.
Many more laughs flowed out of the shed and the house that afternoon, until the man departed, and Cole thought, for the second time, that was done.
That thought is proven nothing but wrong as the man returns with yet another savaged animal, tonight, a wild boar. This night, however, he returns unscathed, so Cole kneels before its corpse and utters a prayer in thanks, before together they strip it for its parts and feast.
Cole feeds the man, and then after his bath for the night, he clothes him too.
Tonight's sleep is peaceful.
☾⋆☆⋆☽
Before gold coats the sky, Cole rouses from his sleep at the sound of the door opening. When he walks down the stairs, he sees Him.
The man sits heavily on his couch, his head in his hands with a frown. It turns into a forced smile when he sees his host, and he apologizes. "Sorry for waking you."
Cole examines Him, from the torn seam of his pants, to the thick crimson on his face and his vest and his thighs. He does not care for his now stained couch, nor for his hand as he selflessly reaches up to wipe the blood off His cheek. "What happened?"
"Protecting. Protecting you." He says, and Cole decides to believe him.
With a motherly tut, Cole pushes the man to the tub, except this time he doesn't leave Him. Cole draws the man a bath, carefully removes his clothes, and sets him in the warm water.
Cole doesn't know what he's doing except that he's helping when he scrubs the man's tired limbs clean from the crimson stains.
"Thank you."
This time, it's nothing about manners.
"You're welcome."
He leaves the man in bed, heads to his room as the sun rises and kneels down by the window, and begins to pray. This morning, it's not just the Lord's prayer, but also one of gratitude.
The man can hear who it's for before he falls asleep.
When he wakes in the afternoon, his tired limbs carry him downstairs to Cole, who listens without complaint nor word as He explains.
There were men in the woods, He says, monstrous men wielding axes for weapons and running like madmen yet covering distance like wolves. These unholy men were stalking him, He says, would've struck the next night, this night, and taken the land for themselves.
"Please believe me," He says, "I can show you the bodies if you don't."
He seems afraid. What for? Cole has always been a believer to the Lord, and now to Him, he doesn't need proof. "Thank you. Stay, tonight. Don't go out for a hunt."
The man nods. The story had taken a lot of breath and a lot of effort. He was tired once more. Cole lays him down on the couch and prepares a good bone broth for dinner.
That night, as he stares at the man in front of him drink his soup, he wonders what it might be like to kneel before his savior, and this time he does not think of God, but of Him. He wonders what it might be like to kneel before another man.
Cole Cassidy thinks himself a man of faith, but suddenly his thoughts are not quite what God would want of him.
Men were not to lay with another before marriage, much less with other men. This wasn't what God had intended for him...but sending this stranger into his life, was it not a reward? He had saved his life, though Cole might not be entirely sure, he had faith in it, just as he had faith in God.
The man before him deserved his gratitude, just as much as his God did. He had spared his life, He had brought him food, He had helped him, He had saved his life.
He doesn't need to wonder that night what it might be like to kneel for another man.
☾⋆☆⋆☽
He tells him His name the next morning, as they lay a mess of tangled limbs under his scratchy sheets. "(Y/N)."
The cowboy replies with his own, "Cole."
His name was a simple name, it wasn't the name of the devil, and His eyes weren't red. He wasn't the work of Satan, nor the devil himself, but a man, just like him; and when He would go on to wear the color of God as the day began, gold stitched in His hat and His boots and His vest, Cole was happy to see Him in it.
But for now, as the gold of the sky begins to turn to blue, Cole settles closer to the man, and he speaks gratitude against His lips.
Cole will be happy to kneel before Him for the rest of his life.
☆⋆~
ɴᴏᴛᴇ: I liked writing the progression. If you didn't notice it it's: Lord became God, the change from the devil to the man, from he to He, and adjectives like maniacal to graciously. I also tried to avoid starting sentences with Cole's pronoun, to highlight how he thinks of himself as much lesser than God.
#cole cassidy x reader#cole cassidy x male reader#cole x reader#cole x male reader#overwatch x reader#overwatch x male reader#cassidy x reader#cassidy x male reader#🎟️ // overwatch#🎫 // cassidy#🎫 // cole cassidy
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┈┈┈ ֺ ࣭ 𝔓𝔯𝔬𝔣𝔞𝔫𝔦𝔱𝔶 ࣭ ֺ ┈┈┈
🎃 ᴅᴀʏ 31
ᴘʀᴏғᴀɴɪᴛʏ
Jung Sungchan 🎃 Demon!Reader
Warning: corruption; lots and lots of profanity, please read carefully; unprotected sex; possession; Dubcon
Author : Last one! Happy Halloween and to that anon, Happy Birthday ❤
English is not my first language, so there may be some grammar errors
He is the most faithful of servants, since he was very young, he has been a regular at church with his parents, even though he is not a member of the clergy or anything else remotely similar, Sungchan lives for the honor and glory of God. So sure, he never even stepped wrong, or out of line with what he had planned.
The first time he saw you was in the front seat of his, during mass, you never exchanged glances, but he felt the energy rise strongly, making his body shake nervously, Sungchan was sure that something in you was not totally human and even though he was a believer, he was not able to identify which side he could lean towards, he only felt instigated enough to let it get closer. Which would certainly be his biggest mistake under those conditions and you are good friends now, you go to mass together, after mass you go out for ice cream, do everything together.
You could even stay alone at home under no one's supervision, and it wasn't that you weren't adults and didn't know how to behave, it just happened that Sungchan's mother no longer felt that hostile energy, you were an imminent danger to Sungchan and his good heart.
However, you couldn't help being so close, Sungchan was always so approachable, so every now and then he felt encouraged to look at you with different eyes, when you got a rain on the way home after church and your white clothes were transparent, showing your underwear, completely visible to him, on this day Sungchan was trapped in a problem he never imagined could be in his life, after that the consequences of attitudes increased, leaving the boy increasingly trapped in your provocations.
Simple touches, hugs from friends, a few times you tried to tell him that it would be okay for you to be intimate, the question of sex before marriage was no big deal "You can regret it later and pray" he was instigated, you brought it up, your energy pulled him close, and you even made you sleep together once at church camp, but he was still very reluctant to the kind of things you wanted to take away from him.
You were in the church that day, taking care of cleaning, after mass some left, others went to their religious meetings, it was just the two of you in the hall, everything closed, quiet, between the pews was where you set your trap, asking for help to clean , he fell like a duckling, when he realized Sungchan was lying on the floor, static, with his eyes fixed on your figure straddling him, hidden between the back benches you started rubbing against him, making him anxious, bringing his hands to your hips to make you stop.
“no…this is wrong” Sungchan whispered trying to snap out of it, and you didn’t let him, smiling at him gently. Moving again as if the strength he used to hold you was nothing, the feeling of his semi-erection touching your covered intimacy made things even more interesting, you knew how to read people's minds, you knew that Sungchan was willing to corrupt.
"It is? It's no big deal, we're hidden, he won't see us” you pointed to the religious image on top of the altar and bent down to start kissing Sungchan's neck “I can feel your hard cock, SungChan, don't play nice boy now”
the volume grew in his clothes, as you rubbed yourself, the scent of fear running from your body going straight to your nostrils, Sungchan knew something was wrong from the moment he felt his body paralyzed, you were controlling him and that was it too late to run away.
“The good boy serving me, he must be so disappointed Sungchan” you whispered close to his ear, hearing the boy meow “come on, just give everything to me”
you dictated, removing the clothes from under him, pulling his hard cock out, taking it between your fingers, while your eyes, now completely black, visited his, Sungchan before couldn't feel it, but now he felt in his strangers your evil gnawing at the walls of that church.
he boy whimpered when you jerked him off, the sensation he had never felt before, his forbidden pleasure, he were enjoying it. When you got rid of your clothes so you could sit on him, with his cock sliding inside, everything shuddered, your insides widened and contracted around him and all that quantity. Sungchan groaned painfully, digging his fingers into the freezing ground and closing his eyes as you began to ride.
“you’re so big…” you moaned softly, biting your lower lip and smiling at sungchan who was trying to keep his eyes closed, feeling that if he mocked the sensations he could get rid of it, but with no result, he was giving in little by little , without you trying too hard, just rolling slowly on his lap, leaning closer to his face “do you want to kiss me? I know you want...you always love it when I eat ice cream with you, always looking at my moving lips"
You kissed sung chan's lips gently, feeling the soft texture. He gathered not knowing how to deal with it, fingers now on your sides trying to keep you in place, but with no success again.
“Or when you saw my breasts showing through my shirt...I know you wanted to touch them...I can read your mind sungchan” you held his hands, without any relevance, you fit his hands so he could feel your hard nipples inside of the t-shirt, at this moment his cock pulsed inside you, and you smiled again. “you liked it, right…come on sungchan, it’s already done, no one needs to know…at least I won’t tell anyone, will you?”
you looked deep into sung chan's eyes and it wasn't long before he shook his head, giving up, the sensation was consuming him in a way that he no longer felt in a position to deny, the desires of the flesh consuming him and then he found his fingers with your covered nipples, began to pinch.
You gasped, happy with his easy giving up and started riding again, resting your hands on his broad chest, little by little your lips released low sounds, you were having real sex, sungchan's hands went inside your clothes, his moans growing in scale, you felt filled with all the fulfillment of his big, wide cock tearing through all the walls of your insides.
“Like this, blow me away sungchan, fuck me good” you called out to him, your back arching, you were finishing yourself, sungchan knew right then and there what kind of demon you could be, that was the perfect kind of pact and he was giving in until the last drop of his being to corruption, he now belonged completely and solely to you.
His dick started to hurt, sung chan felt his body burning, his tongue refused to release the curse stuck in his throat, he started to move his hips up with force, fucking you, making the space of that room a symphony of violent sex. The two of you losing your minds , and then... a silence... and sungchan's liquid running down the side of your legs, your body, tired.
“I told you you wouldn’t get caught” you leaned towards him and ran the tip of your tongue along sung chan’s sweaty neck, feeling the salty taste hit your taste buds “from today onwards, you will be mine and no one else’s…you understand ?”
sung chan closed his eyes panting, his body in a different, strange vibration, he was taken over by you
"Yes…"
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