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[catholicholyland]

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[3rdeyeblaque]

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.‼️

[math-is-math]

Aleheather headcanons because why not :))

They moved into an apartment together after All Stars; it’s not exactly the lavish lifestyle they pictured but it’s cozy and comfortable for the moment

I personally don’t think Heather would name her cat Bruiser; I think it’s actually the family cat and that’s what her younger brothers decided to name him

After moving in together, they got a little white cat named Blanca (courtesy of Alejandro ofc)

“Blanca? W— isn’t that just white in Spanish??”

“Exactly. It fits perfectly for her.”

That said, Alejandro’s more of a dog person but he’s not opposed to cats; Heather LOVES cats but big dogs are not her thing though

They’ll dance together in their living room at 2 am, maybe sway the cat around too

Alejandro is the master chef while Heather is the resident baker

They enjoy hosting dinner parties for their friends! Duncan and Courtney, and Lindsay and Tyler are their most common guests

Heather is a WIZARD at the piano

Sometimes when Alejandro has a nightmare she’ll play to relax and comfort him; his favorite is Solamente Una Vez

Alejandro can play guitar at a beginner-intermediate level

Sometimes they’ll duet with their respective instruments + occasional singing

Courtney will come over and sometimes bring her violin so she and Heather can play together — and they’ll absolutely bring the house down every time; their signature piece is The Swan

Duncan will make fun of Alejandro cause he gets emotional everytime they play it

“Oh man are you crying?”

“Well at least I’m able to emotionally appreciate good talent!!”

I think Courtney helped Heather get her million back (with the help of her lawyers and finessing the system ofc)

First thing they did once receiving it — put that shit in the BANK

Alejandro’s Catholic; Heather isn’t religious :P

Heather doesn’t talk to her parents (or her family) anymore; she claims she doesn’t care but Alejandro knows it hurts

Alejandro has a good relationship with his parents and family (well maybe not José) despite his inferiority complex lmao; although FreshTV did say Alejandro’s not the favorite in his family

I think that role goes to Carlos since he’s the professional soccer player, but Carlos gets demoted to second favorite after his parents meet Heather

His mom adores Heather, she’s the daughter she never had; his dad isn’t rlly around cause of work but he’s quite fond of her too from the few times he’s met her

Alejandro and José made a bet about whether he would win Total Drama

When he got the call from Chris about TD Dirtbags, you bet your ass he was outta the house

Alejandro’s parents had literally no idea he went on the show (nor did they care LOL)

His mom found out when he called him after Chris announced World Tour and his dad found out when they were showing one of the eps on a hotel TV and saw him

Heather braids her hair when she’s stressed! She can do all sorts of braids from fishtail to Dutch

The only person allowed to play with Alejandro’s hair is her; he’s not fond of having it in two parts (i.e. braids and pigtails) but he makes an exception for her

Sometimes when she has a nightmare, Alejandro lets her braid and play with his hair to calm her down

Heather is terrified of vulnerability, due to a fear of rejection and being alone; she combats this by pushing everyone away to not face any potential possibilities of being rejected by anybody

The first time she said ‘I love you’ to Alejandro (not counting the WT confession) resulted in a panic attack and almost passing out (I wrote a fic about this hehe)

Occasionally Heather has doubts about Alejandro’s objective with her and their relationship — why he chose her of all people, if this could all end up a mistake in the future, if she can trust him, etc.

Alejandro’s patient though, he provides as many reassurances as she needs to hear

It’s taken a lot of time and coaxing to get her to take down her walls and let him in but they’re making progress; he just loves her so much and wants happiness for her :’)

They’re both afraid of losing the other but Heather’s fear is more extreme than Alejandro’s

I’ll update if I think of more lol but feel free to add to the list !!

[beesmygod]

What are some of your favorite pieces of art/ art that has made you think a lot?

this is such a cheesy cop-out answer, but there's a lot of things that im going to struggle remembering because of 1. how situational the experience was (as in, the context in which i experienced the piece) 2. how wide the word "art piece" is. 3. the great fortune to have been born to parents with strong artistic sensibilities and a love of travel/education. so these are like. really weird and specific but maybe thats the way it should be:

let's start with the most overly dramatic: st. paul's cathedral in london has guided tours where they take you into rooms and let you mill around before moving to the next one. my family took a trip overseas as a really, really big special vacation to celebrate my sister and i graduating from high school (we're not twins, we just combo'd it after she graduated) that i was too brain-broken and teenage to fully appreciate. its a beautiful cathedral but i was in my edgy internet atheist stage and refused to be impressed by it until i stood over a grate in the floor. through the grates you can see the crypt that you visit next. but standing over the grate, someone below started to sing something hymnal and very catholic. and i realized i was the only one who could hear it because of the crowd chatter. and it made me feel, in the moment, so special and so lonely in a way that i still think about, a lot. it was for me only. divine providence.

a date with adam to a place i had no idea existed but he had been to before: the bad art museum, which is split over like 3 different buildings in a bizarre way. we only went to the one where you have to buy a ticket to a movie as entry and it was some truly lovely bad art and made me sad how inaccessible it was but resolute about my love of the nuances of uncelebrated anti-art masterpieces. then we watched "assassination nation" and it was fucking terrible. great date.

reading the theory regarding the "venus of willendorf" being a self portrait as a 20-something year old and running into the bathroom to take my clothes off and look down at myself and having my mind blown. not just by how much i instantly understood it, but because of the tugging feeling on my heart when i feel that strand of history connecting women artists driven by that unknown compulsion to create for creations sake!

similarly, seeing artemisia gentileschi's work next to her fathers and realizing how much she outclassed him in every single way and feeling the tugging feeling again, but this time with a dark woe of realization of how history minimizes achievement and talent when it eases a narrative

reading jane erye's descriptions of herself and her approaches to her plights and for the first time feeling like someone had walked a path that i currently found myself lost on.

reading 1984 as a middle schooler and becoming so angry at the ending i threw the book across the room (something i had never done before and never did again in my life) and stormed out of my room to complain to my mom lol. IT REALLY UPSET ME!!!

reading les miserables for the first time and weeping piteously for days after the ending and having it impact my brain so hard it re-wired how i think about the concept of "legacy" and what it means to matter in the world and how love is nothing without the courage to stand up for it. and that mercy should, and will, always supersede unwavering justice (hard lesson to remember, maybe im due for a re-read)

sneaking into my parents room to read the books i wasnt supposed to yet as a really little kid lol. my mom used to get "dykes to watch out for" in a newsletter she was subscribed to! but i didnt read those bc they were dumb relationship comics for grown-ups. i wanted to read about opus the penguin and lee iacocca, as if i knew who that was. my mother's comic collection was the single most influential constant in my life. knowing that i was exposed to bill watterson's commentary about his own work via the big collections my mom owned probably explains a lot about what's wrong with me. but she also had a lot of berke breathed before he fully wussed out

the general experience of playing a video game that you arent supposed to/when you arent supposed to is probably one of the most freeing means of meaningless rebellion as a kid that everyone should experience. i used to be up playing pokemon past my bedtime under my covers with a huge heavy rubber flashlight i stole from the kitchen and had to replace every morning without getting caught once i was done with it. god, the days before backlit screens we had to get really fucking wild with it. in high school i would wake up at 5:00am, sneak into the computer room where the ps2 was and play an hour of FFX bc its the longest fucking non-persona game in the world, stop playing before my mom woke up at 6:00am and sneak back into bed. if i hit a part where i couldnt save i would just turn the screen off and come back to it tomorrow lol. secrets......

reading the "pictures for sad children" arc about paul, who is a ghost, finally losing it and going on a rant about how it has never mattered how thin a computer screen is. they were right and reading it helped me articulate and understand a growing feeling of restless frustration at the world around me that i felt singular and alone in. im glad that last i heard that artist is doing ok. i hope they recognize the incredible value in their work as imperfect as they perceived it to be. i do not think they would be happy to know that their old work was impactful, but i hope they realize that what people are able to tease out of their work is meaningful, at least to me it is. ill transcribe the comic rather than repost it i think: paul [while smashing electronics]: "have i told you about [bam] how nerds destroy the world take conspicuous consumption as a lifestyle choice and combine it with early hardware adoption and you have great swaths of gadgetry out of stock because they're incrementally better than the last model and there are landfills full of functioning electronics wasted time, resources, money, etc. the best part is that these things were never necessary it has never mattered how thing a computer is." [smash]

this is too long. i like art.

[girlactionfigure]

THURSDAY HERO: Gino Bartali

Born in a small town near Florence in 1914, Gino grew up extremely poor. He escaped his difficult life by riding his bike from dusk until dawn around the hills of Tuscany. Building up exceptional strength and endurance, Gino started competing and winning races. Only a few years after his first race, he went professional. By the early 1930’s, Gino was a household name throughout Italy. Everywhere he went he was mobbed by fans. When he won the Tour de France in 1938, at age 24, Gino was hailed as the “King of Cycling.”

Gino wasn’t able to defend his title at the 1939 Tour because of worsening relations between Italy and France. He was drafted into the army and worked as a military bike messenger. In 1943, Germany invaded Italy and immediately began rounding up and deporting Italian Jews. A friend of Gino’s asked him to help save their Jewish brethren. Though married and with a young son, Gino did not hesitate. He immediately committed to doing whatever he could to save lives, whatever the risk.

Gino sheltered a local Jewish family in an apartment he bought with cycling money. He then embarked on a dangerous mission smuggling fake identity papers around Tuscany and Umbria, enabling Jews to assume false identities and escape deportation. Using his training routes between Florence and Assisi, Gino made 30-40 trips, saving at least 800 Italian Jews. He carried exit visas in his bicycle frame. Wherever he went, Gino was surrounded by fans, preventing German policemen from looking too closely at what he was doing. On the few occasions he was stopped and searched, Gino insisted that his specially-made bike was too delicate to be touched. A devout Catholic, Gino often traveled from Florence to Assisi and back in one day – a 200 km trip. In Assisi, Catholic clergy ran an underground railroad to hide Jews and provided them with Gino’s fake identity documents.

Gino was extremely modest and rarely spoke about his wartime heroism. He once told his son, “If you’re good at a sport, they attach the medals to your shirts and then they shine in a museum. That which is earned by doing good deeds is attached to the soul and shines elsewhere.” It wasn’t until after his death in 2000 that his family began speaking publicly about what Gino had done. In 2013, Gino was honored by Israeli Holocaust Museum Yad Vashem as “Righteous Among the Nations.”

For using his talent and fame to save hundreds of lives, we honor Gino Bartali as this week’s Thursday Hero at Accidental Talmudist.

[copias-sewer-rat]

THE BLOOD DROPPING FROM THE DARK ROSE IS ALWAYS THE SWEETEST (Cardinal Copia x f/reader)

Flower Shop AU! for Ghost (the band). Copia is still a Cardinal. Just cuteness and a bit of setting for this chapter. Around 2.8K words. I used a name for the female character instead of y/n because I am not the biggest fan of it, hope you don’t mind. ⸸tags: some mockery of Catholicism, mentions of death (but very brief). Do not mind the titles of the chapters, they are songs that I want Ghost to cover at some point ;) ⸸my masterlist⸸ ⸸Read on Ao3⸸ Enjoy!

I - Scary Monsters (And Super Creeps)

The Monday morning sun hit your eyes. Still drowsy from sleep you checked your phone. The alarm was about to go off. Decided to stay under the covers until the last second, you closed your eyes and thought about your plans for the week. There were some big orders for this week, which you were glad for. Being a florist was not always the most rewarding job monetarily, but the fact that you were working on your dream job was more than enough to make up for it.

Wanting to have some resemblance of control over your week, you made a mental list. Twenty bouquets, some for weddings, others just normal displays of random affection between lovers. Seven funeral wreaths, which sometimes broke your heart to make. You remember a very painful wreath that you had to make about a baby who had died because of some sort of medical negligence, you remember how you could not stop crying for the entirety of that night. You also had a couple of wedding preparations that were due in a couple of weeks, but you needed to visit your usual provider just to check some details. 

Remembering you had to visit your provider, your mind wandered to that pretty bizarre event you had to prepare an arrangement for on Friday. You had been visited by a couple of nuns a week ago, they seemed very friendly and cheerful, and although your history with Catholicism was not the best, they were very nice to you. They both also looked gorgeous, wearing some makeup and a tight attire that you had never seen wear to a nun, maybe they were from a branch of the Catholic church that was more permissive on that stuff regarding appearance. However, you could not know, you had been out of it for a few years.

The taller of the two nuns said that your shop had been in the radar of their congregation for some time. They had been waiting to perform some sort of ritual in town to ask for your services and now the time had come. You asked if they were from out of town and that is why it had taken some time to book you. The other sister, a bit older, but still breathtaking, said that they were from town. They just usually toured all over the world giving ceremonies. Now it was the turn of their hometown. You had been living in this quiet little town for a year and a half so you honestly did not know much about specific groups or the community in general, you really did not care about any of it. You were assigned with preparing a ceiling and floor arrangement, wild and unpredictable. The sisters told you that the venue was a bit big and that they were told by their superiors that they preferred something dark, but that it could still be seen in dim light. You had a herculean task before you. Nonetheless, you had always enjoyed a good challenge. While asking for your budget for the project you were answered with a “whatever you may need”. Your mouth was agape at the answer, no need to push the topic further.

Before continuing your train of thought, the phone alarm went off. You jumped out of bed, actually very excited to start your Monday. 

You showered, dressed in a smart but comfortable outfit and prepared your breakfast and coffee to have in your truck. Before even thinking of how the arrangemet would be, you actually needed to see the venue first. The task had been avoided long enough. You picked a black card from your glove compartment which was given to you by the tall sister. It had the name and address of the venue engraved in bright white, the contrast feeling very dramatic and theatrical. Setting your google maps to the location, you put your favorite playlist and drove off towards your destination. After a fifteen minute drive and moments before finishing your rendition of Bohemian Rhapsody, you arrived to the venue. You found yourself before a concert venue when you were hoping for a church or an abbey. Maybe the congregation did not want to litter their precious church so they booked an easier place to clean afterwards. The turned off neon sign read ‘The Rat Trap’. Quite a fitting name for a concert venue, no doubt. The name was the same as the card, so you must have been at the correct spot.

Exiting your truck a couple of figures came into view in front of the establishment. They wore metal masks and black outfits. For a second you thought that you had the address wrong, these people did not seem very church-like. You shrugged it off and decided to ask anyway. 

“Good morning. I was looking for a venue in which I am supposed to set some flower arrangements? Is this the correct address?” You spoke, your voice clear and pace slow, trying not to trip over your own words, not wanting to embarrass yourself so early in the morning. The silence was heavy between you three. Maybe that was only your imagination, because they took a step back and opened the metal door behind them. You thanked them with a smile and entered the building. The venue was enormous, but it was weird seeing a concert venue empty and with the lights on. 

You only took two steps in, looking at how busy the place was with more people wearing those silver masks, when suddenly an older woman approached you.

“Good morning, dear. Can I know what business brings you here?” She questioned you, with a bit of poison in her tone. You got the feeling that you had interrupted something. 

“Yes, good morning to you too.” You said, trying to sound as professional as possible. “My name is Claire, I am from Dewdrop, the flower store. My services were booked by a couple of nuns a week ago to make an arrangement at this venue for this Friday.” You said, short and to the point. 

“Ah, yes, that…” The woman said, and you realized that the flowers were definitely not her idea. “Well, I guess there is no turning back now that you showed up. My name is Sister Imperator, you can come to me with any questions.” You were about to interrupt her with one, but she continued speaking. “Nonetheless, all this idea of the flower arrangement is from the Cardinal, so you better speak to him directly about it.” She finished talking and started walking, hoping for you to follow, so you did, not without asking the question that had been bugging you since the very beginning. 

“Sorry, I have a question… What kind of church is this?”

Sister Imperator gave you a quick glance back and a smirk: “Just your typical church.”

You remembered what you had seen until now, the nuns, the people at the entrance and from inside the venue with those weird looking masks as you said to yourself: “Typical church, my ass.” The weird knot in your stomach was not going to prevent you from doing your job, you were more professional than that. You were even curious about those people, hoping to learn about what they stood for and to what dude from above they prayed to. Your step quickened to follow her closer. 

You two said nothing to each other until the sister stopped abruptly before a door, it looked like a dressing room. You were a bit scared about the whole backstage thing, you had been to concerts, but you had never been so lucky as to go there. Sister Imperator knocked with a very curious rhythm, to which you heard a male voice respond with: “Come on in!”

The sister opened the door, but she signed for you to hold. You did as you were told and she entered the room leaving you outside of it on your own. You were nervous, she said that you had to talk to the Cardinal. From your knowledge from when you were a child, being a Cardinal is a pretty good position in the church. Thinking about it, you felt yourself getting smaller and smaller, reliving memories from your childhood that you had not thought about in a very long time. You were considering saying ‘fuck off’ to your professionalism and making a swift escape. There had to be a back door that you could slip through somewhere without no one noticing. As soon as you looked down the hall before you, searching for such a door, the one behind you opened and you knew there was no turning back. You just hoped for your face not to give away your emotions. 

Sister Imperator told you to enter the room, and as you did you were struck with the sight of a man wearing a red cassock and some black eye and lip makeup, which made him look ready for Halloween. You could not stop staring at him, he was like nothing you had seen before, and when he rose from his seat to greet you, you caught yourself being too weird by looking so much and tried to smile warmly. You tried to shake hands with the Cardinal, but he was quicker, grabbing the hand you were extending with his gloved one and kissing the back of it, leaving a bit of lipstick there. Your face got a pink tint to it and your instinct told you to run away. Nonetheless, you decided to push your instinct down at least for now, to see the outcome of this reunion. You could always refuse the job, you just wanted the details of it first. You had not even noticed, but Sister Imperator had left the room and you were now alone with the Cardinal. 

After kissing your hand, the man before you introduced himself as Cardinal Copia, a hint of what you presumed to be Italian in his pronunciation. He said nothing else, waiting for you to introduce yourself, but he forgot to let go of your hand.

“Claire Brown, nice to meet you Cardinal Copia” you tried to make the hold less awkward by gently shaking his hand. Then he seemed to realize his hand was still on yours. 

“Miss Brown, it is a pleasure to meet you at last.” Cardinal Copia said, with sincerity, following your shake. 

“Just call me Claire, please. I don’t like to be addressed by my surname, it makes me feel like I am still in school.” You surprised yourself with your honesty, the Cardinal just laughed at your justification and at this point you were both free of each others’ grasp.

“That is completely fair, Claire.” He said your name, rolling the ‘r’, just as Italians do, and you felt your cheeks tint even more, he did not seem to take notice, and even if he did, he did not mention it. Cardinal Copia gestured to the couch in front of the one he was sitting a few seconds ago and spoke with a smile: “Per favore (please), take a seat. Let us discuss flowers.” And so you did, not breaking eye contact with the Cardinal and giving him a warm smile, he did the same. 

“I have some idea of what you want, but I would like some more details if possible.” You said, taking out a green notepad that you always carried with you and a pencil with a rubber-shaped pigeon on top, a bit worn off because it was an eraser and you need to use it sometimes, even if it pained you so much. The Cardinal took notice of your eraser and chuckled a bit. 

“Fan of pigeons, sì?” He asked, nodding to your pencil. 

“Yes, I think that they are wonderful creatures and very loyal. I love all birds, I have a soft spot for the underdogs in general.” You did not know why at the moment, but the Cardinal’s cheeks flushed a bit at your comment. “About the flowers then… I was told by the two nuns who visited me the other day that you were looking for a ceiling and floor arrangement, is that correct?” You asked. 

“Yes, that is correct. It is a special occasion and I wanted something to commemorate it.” The Cardinal explained to you, but you still had many questions about the whole ordeal.

“And what is the occasion? It will be better for me to know which flowers will be the best and their collocation.” You pushed, trying to get more information. 

“A concert, back in the town that saw us grow to what we are today.” To his answer, you blinked slowly. You were thinking of some kind of mass, not a full on concert.

“I am sorry? I thought you were a congregation or a church of some sort, not a music group.” You looked puzzled, but Cardinal Copia seemed to enjoy your confusion.

“We are actually both. A church and a music group. We are pretty well known in fact.” You could not believe his words, this was some kind of mockery and the Cardinal was just teasing you. 

“Oh, is that so? What kind of music do you play?” You played along, having nothing to lose.

“Mostly heavy metal, but we also make covers of other songs and we also have some ballads.” The Cardinal replied, looking very closely to your reaction and making a dramatic gesture with his hand. 

“That is pretty daring for the Catholic church…” You regretted your words the instant they came out of your mouth. 

To that, the Cardinal smirked. “Who said we were Catholic? We are Satanists, Claire. We serve the one below, not that asshole above.” You were shocked, that actually explained so much. In that moment you noticed the Cardinal’s mismatched gaze, one eye green and the other white. The latter was actually shining a bit and you found yourself entranced by it. “We basically use the group to spread the word of our Lord and to take over the world.” You did not know what to say to that, but deep inside you were glad that they were not Catholic.

“Well, as for this show, I hope I can help you spread your word a bit with my flowers.” You said, sincerely. You had never met a Satanist, but Cardinal Copia seemed like a good person so you wanted to help, and his goals seemed a bit impossible, so you did not mind helping.

“I-I appreciate that, Claire, thank you for your em… kind words.” He stuttered slightly and you felt his confidence slip a bit because of that. You were sure that he had been trying really hard to present himself as a confident person. You felt yourself relating with the man, being a bit of a stutter yourself, so you just smiled and continued asking and taking notes.

The rest of the meeting went pretty well. Cardinal Copia told you that he wanted mostly red, black and white flowers. He also wanted the arrangements to look like an overgrown garden, so it needed plenty of different types of leaves and foliage. He later took you to the stage and pointed to the places where he wanted the decorations to be. It was a pretty big stage and you were thinking of how much money this was going to cost. You raised your concerns to the Cardinal, leaving you with the same answer the sisters had given you a week prior: “Whatever you may need.”

You tried to push your luck a bit. “In that case, I will need your phone number or something of the sort. Just to message you in case of any question or problem that might arise.” The Cardinal raised his eyebrows a bit and his white eye glistened a bit more than it did before. He fidgeted with his pocket, taking out an old smartphone, which you found adorable. He handed it to you and you saved your contact as Claire with a rose emoji and then called yourself to save his contact in your phone as well. He bowed a bit when you gave his phone back to him and you smiled a bit because of it.

After having a clear idea of what you needed to do, the Cardinal escorted you to your car. He was a gentleman and it seemed to be something natural to his person, it was very refreshing to see. Once you were inside your car you observed the Cardinal getting back into the building. As the door was opened for him you remembered the most important question of all, so you rolled your window down. 

“Cardinal! What is the name of your band?!” You shouted, a teething smile escaping your lips. 

Cardinal Copia got scared by your sudden shout and turned towards you a bit violently. However, when he saw your genuine smile, he could not help but laugh and smile back. “Ghost!” He said, and then you knew the name of the band that was going to become the soundtrack for your trip.

____

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That is it for the first chapter. I will probably edit some grammar and stuff later. Please let me know what you think and give me some feedback on how make the fic better (I am a bit rusty). Lots of love, SR🐀

[enigmatypewriter]

1931-1932. The beginnings of the SD

(!) The content provided is for educational and informational purposes only. Enigma is strictly against hateful ideologies.

1931

April 30: RH was discharged from the Navy in Kiel → read more.

May: In hopes of obtaining a new career, RH contacted the son of his godparents, Eberstein, who served in the SA in Munich → read more.

June 1: RH joined the NSDAP in Hamburg.

June 14 or 16: in Munich, RH was interviewed by HH as a candidate to lead the as yet nonexistent Ic-Dienst.

HH mistakenly believed that RH, being a Nachrichtenoffizier (wireless officer), was a Nachrichtendienstoffizier (intelligence officer).

RH used his knowledge gained from naval intelligence seminars and reading detective literature to outline a plan for the future organization.

July 14: RH joined the Hamburg SS and served as the leader of a shock troop unit that attacked meetings of opposition parties. The Communists of Hamburg nicknamed him the Blond Beast.

August 10: RH returned to Munich to work at the NSDAP headquarters, the Brown House at Briennerstrasse 45.

HH was his boss, while RH was the only employee of the Ic-Dienst, monitoring the Communist and Socialist Parties, the Catholic “Center”, the German People's Party and the German Nationalist Party.

He shared his office with R. Hildebrandt.

September: RH identified one of the Party’s “Munich Putsch veterans” as an officer in the Criminal Police and a spy.

December: Ic-Dienst moved to Turkenstrasse 23, 4th floor, where RH rented 2 rooms. He was given 3 assistants.

December 26: RH married Lina von Osten in the Protestant church of St. Catherine’s in Grossenbrode.

1932

January: RH moved to Lochhausen 55 (the Ic-Dienst remained on Turkenstrasse 23).

February: one of RH’s agents was arrested. The department needed structural reform.

April-June: when the SA and SS were banned, the Ic-Dienst temporarily hid under the name of the Presse und Informationsdienst (PID, Press and Information Service). RH hired full-time staff during his inspection tours throughout Germany. The agents now were responsible only to him and his office.

June 6 or 8: G. Strasser was informed that RH had Jewish ancestors. The report on June 22 didn’t confirm this → read more.

June: RH and his Ic-Dienst moved to Zuccalistrasse 4, next to the Nymphenburg Palais. The number of assistants has increased to 7.

July 29: HH appointed RH Chief of the renamed Ic-Dienst, the Sicherheitsdienst (SD).

The nickname C (from Chief), which RH liked to be called in the SD, appeared in the same year.

Sources:

Gerwarth, Robert (2011). Hitler’s Hangman: The Life of Heydrich.

Deschner, Günther (1981). Reinhard Heydrich: A Biography.

Dederichs, Mario R. (2009). Heydrich: The Face of Evil.

[focsle]

I have a whaling question! How much truth is there in stories of whaling crews press-ganging ("Shanghai-ing") individuals to work aboard the ships? When I toured the ship museum in Mystic CT, the docent said that the desertion rate for each voyage could be as high as 80%, and that crews made up these losses by kidnapping men from bars and making them work.

Whaleships did have extremely high desertion rates, and there are some instances of men being kidnapped by agents to be shipped aboard. One such man was a lad who found himself aboard the ship Tiger in 1845. His fellow whaler, John Perkins described the circumstance of this 'young man shipped by the name of Henry Franklin':

"He declared that he would not tell his real name. His father is an importing merchant of Philadelphia. He graduated from a Catholic college in Maryland and was studying medicine under a doctor in Snow Hill, Maryland. From which place he went to Philadelphia not intending to let his parents know of his presence in the city. While there he got drunk & not knowing what he was about went to New York, where he still kept up his spree. As he was going through Water Street rather 'high' he saw a sign up whalesmen wanted & immediately signed. The next morning he went to beg off, when the shipping agent offered him a glass of grog & kept him drunk until night, when he put him aboard the steamboat bound for Stonington [where the Tiger left from, and where Mystic Seaport is now, more or less]. The Officers call him Frank...his parents know nothing about it. He left everything except what he had on at the time on board a sloop in Philadelphia."

However, while press ganging men onto a whaler is a very common narrative, it wasn't actually a common practice. Rarely were men so explicitly kidnapped, because there often was no need to. There were plenty of willing recruits. However, that didn't mean that agents didn't use other various coercive methods to get them aboard, which usually involved overhyping all the Benefits & Adventures of whaling.

Whaler William B. Whitecar warned of this practice among 'Land Sharks', describing their targets whom he saw in the boarding house he was staying at.

"I viewed with regret the extreme youth of many of them. There is a systematized mode of procedure carried on in our larger Atlantic and Lake cities, for the purpose of recruiting of this service. Shipping agents engage young men, taking advantage of their inexperience or necessities, paint whaling and its appurtenances in vivid colors, induce them to sign their names, and convey them to New Bedford; and when the come to review their outfit bills, they will find a charge from ten to fourteen dollars for the agent's services."

He also added that such land sharks always go provided with The Bottle, "knowing that the sailor is much more easily gulled when half seas over".

In 1847 the American Consul in Honolulu complained of this practice, as this was often where people tried to desert if they had the chance to:

"Formerly, all our whale ships in the Pacific were engaged in taking Sperm oil. Voyages were short and profitable, common hands before the mast, as well as officers and Onwers made money—Seamen had no desire to leave their ships. Almost every man returned in the same vessel in which he came out. Owners found no difficulty in obtaining crews composed of good men.

It soon became known that the business was a very profitable one, and Capitalist eagerly engaged in it ships were rapidly multiplied. Men and boys were collected from our rail roads and canals [another letter of this spirit also mentions ‘our prisons’] by Agents but for that purpose, many of them ruined both in morals and in constitution. These individuals entirely ignorant of the business in which they were about to engage, were placed on board with bills for outfits of from eighty to a hundred dollars standing against them, and for which they had little or nothing to show.

With few exceptions the crews were restless and discontented, many had been on board two years or more, and instead of diminishing the debts which stood against them at the time of sailing they had been compelled to add to them in order to supply themselves with necessary clothing— All the hopes and expectations excited by the Agents had been bloated. They were disgusted with the occupation and determined at all hazards to leave their vessels. They would resort to any and every means to procure their discharge. Failing in this, many deserted. If caught in time to be placed on board of their vessels, they would threaten to burn the ship or do some other act to prevent their proceeding the voyage, saying that they would sooner die than go to the North West again, and in many cases Masters ceased to have any control over their crews. The same state of things must have existed to a greater or less degree in 1845. It is a common remark now, among Masters, that formerly they seldom left a man, and that now they seldom take back many of those who come out with them."

It was a predatory industry that sought out the naive and the down-and-out. And often, agents didn't have to work too hard to find men for the job (thus why actively press ganging them was very rare). Because, as I discuss in this post about why people went whaling, for many--especially in coastal regions in the northeastern US as well as the various global ports and islands whaleships stopped at--if you were a young man who wanted to strike out on your own for the first time, to leave your home town and see the world, to make some money, to find some supposed freedom from repressive living conditions you might be experiencing ashore, a whaleship was one of the easiest ways to do that. The majority of whalers signed on of their own volition, though often because they were fed falsities about the reality of the work they were throwing themselves to. And it wasn't until they were far from shore that they realized how awful the job was, felt completely demoralized, and some deserted. But there were always other young men with the same initial ideas willing to sign on and take their place.

[transthadymacdermot]

Rainbow main RRL fictional United Irish committee part 2 of 2... wall of lore text on the lineup under the cut

Part 1

Captain James "Jim" Wilkes - the leader of a military cell (UI cell within the army -- these really existed and the government was very worried about them), a devoted reformer who offered to form a UI cell from interested parties among his men roughly two hours after his regiment was stationed on Lord Durham's land. Useful for providing information about what nonsense the forces of law and order are going to pull next

Edward Perry - deceased narrative haunter of a dead leader of a cell which focused on assassination. He was Rearden's close friend before dying of The Fever while awaiting trial in prison and Rearden is still obsessed with him

William Rearden - former British Army rifleman and the committee's main tactician. Like his friend Whittaker, he lets others do his dirty work for him, but he also trains UI who wish to learn how to imitate, at least, his terrifying skill with a rifle. He owns a linen company, &c

Lady Maria Whittaker - an Englishwoman who clawed her way up from being the impoverished daughter of a Jacobite exile to being an information broker who terrorises reformers and reactionaries indiscriminately. Whether or not she's even loyal to this committee in particular is up for debate. She is a Gentlewoman™️

Devi Chandrasekhar - young linguist from what is today Tamil Nadu, on a tour of Europe in order to learn several more languages. Naturally, she does translations and negotiations, having been absorbed into the committee by virtue of boarding with the Hoyles during her stay in Ireland

Patrick Dolan - another Defender leader, a sort of godfather to Eoin O'Donnell's Defender lodge. He acts as another mediator between the Defenders and the committee, though he stays more in the background than Breen does. He makes his money being a slightly more well off tenant farmer

Samuel "Sammy" Gowan - proud member of the growing urban Catholic middle class originally from Co. Armagh. He's a good lad but no one is actually sure where his money comes from and he's been spending a weird amount of time around the army barracks lately... and what was that the barman at the Medusa said about seeing him coming in with that fencible fella to point out other UI? It's just not like him -- I'm sure it's nothing, though :)

[mymistakewriting]

Eddie & Shannon Diaz

This post is going to ruffle some feathers, I'm sure. I would like to state that any comments I make here are based off observations surrounding the interactions we do see between the two from the show. I am not bashing any characters, as always, and if you don't like my content or opinions, there's a block button available to you, please use it.

That said, this one comes with some content warnings. Please proceed with caution. The relationship between Eddie and Shannon is a toxic one. If you don't think you can handle reading about something like that, maybe skip this post.

First things first: their relationship was toxic, but it was toxic both ways. Neither of them are in the clear for their behaviors by far. It was not a healthy relationship in the slightest.

Eddie and Shannon are described by the show as high school sweethearts. It's heavily implied by behavior that Eddie's family DOES NOT like Shannon. And I do think that plays a major role in things. I don't think it was a 'they dislike her because they had a kid too young', I think it was that he started seeing her in high school BECAUSE he knew his parents would hate her. His relationship with his parents is an abusive one, of course he'd do something to upset them and get a kick out of it. That man's demi-romantic ass didn't know what he was doing, he was just in it to bother his folks and have some sex like any normal, Catholic teenage boy would want.

Obviously, it's confirmed that they didn't plan for Chris. Eddie said himself that he wasn't ready to marry Shannon when they did get married even though he loved her - and yeah, that tracks. I'd put good money on his parents forcing them to get married as soon as they found out Shannon was pregnant, it's an unfortunately common practice here in the Southern United States even to this day (I have immediate family that can vouch for this because it happened to them).

Which leads me to this: Yes, Eddie definitely signed up for a second tour in part because he wasn't ready to face what it meant to be a father. But I do think that part of him signed up for a second tour because he knew that the money would help. It took three jobs to replace the income from being an active-duty combat medic and he was still barely holding it together, it wasn't a decision made just because of fear. He really was trying to provide, but the only way he'd ever seen it done was by all but abandoning the family thanks to his father.

Which brings me to the fights. It's no secret that Eddie and Shannon fought a lot. And neither of them are saints, by far, not where those fights are concerned. Eddie definitely said some shit that he shouldn't have in those fights to hurt her (a la "you're exhausting" in lawsuit arc level shouldn't have said shit). That said, what caught my attention initially is how Eddie reacts to things in those fights. Because every time they're fighting and Shannon whirls around to face him or moves just a little too fast, he sinks in on himself like he's trying to guard himself, suggesting that he'd taken a few hits.

I don't think it was a full on battered boyfriend situation, but I do think Shannon got handsy in her high emotions a few times - and a kid who grew up abused in any way holds onto those instances, making them react more. But nothing else I could think of explains the way he sinks down and folds in. It's a habit that carries over even after Shannon's death.

I'd like to repeat: they're both in the wrong. Their relationship was toxic on both fronts. I don't think anyone ever found out how bad those fights could get. And I don't think Eddie will ever talk about it now that she's dead.

[catholicholyland]

To Know More Visit Us :- https://www.catholicholyland.com/

[popiacopia]

Does the ministry offer tours to outsiders wanting to learn and look around, or is it more private? Pagan, but very curious and also loving the architecture- so gorgeous???? Why is it so gorgeous???? 😍

Oh, yes, we do.

They are guided tours only, however– we have had some incidents in the past of people sneaking off to vandalize or steal things. Several “Christian activist groups” have posed as tourists to try and “protest…” Protesting is a generous description of what they do, really. Much kinder than they deserve. But they have mostly stopped after we made it a policy that a Ghoul or Ghoulette is required to escort them around the grounds.

We are happy to let you or anyone else visit, provided you are respectful and open-minded, and don’t go anywhere you aren’t allowed. Certain areas of the Ministry are blocked off for security or privacy reasons.

We decided to have an extravagant building because, well… If the Catholics can do it, why can’t we? They have been keeping human bodies in their buildings, covering everything in precious materials, and painting scenes of gore to proclaim their god for centuries. We do the same, just on the opposite team.

[ciaossu-imagines]

I adore Mystic Messenger and have been lucky enough to handle quite a few headcanon requests for it. Not much love though for my precious V, who is one of my favourites, I will admit, so I took it upon myself to choose to write some headcanons for him! I used this prompt here and hope you all will enjoy them (since I do know he’s a pretty divisive character in the fandom)!

What they smell like?

I feel like V smells really good. He takes his personal hygiene seriously and does regularly shower and keeps clean. He favours shampoos and soaps with light and clean, faintly citrusy, scents. I feel like, when he was with Rika, he wore a more musky and spicy cologne that she favored but that, when he chooses his own cologne, it’s a lighter scent, like Burberry’s Touch.

How they sleep (sleeping position, schedule, etc.)?

V sleeps on his side, almost in a fetal position but not quite. It’s vaguely fetal but he’s not as tightly curled up on himself, and he keeps his bottom leg mostly straight, with one arm underneath his head. He doesn’t move much while he sleeps and his breathing while he sleeps is light and regular and almost noiseless.

What music they enjoy?

He likes a lot of different types of music and enjoys learning about new bands and artists. He does like classical music and he can play several instruments, but he’s also in soft-rock, folk, happy sounding pop music if the lyrics aren’t aggressive, and would be strangely into cuddlecore music.

How much time they spend getting ready every morning?

It honestly depends on his mental health at the time. At the times when his mental health was the worst, while he’d make sure he was clean, V would put a lot less time into his personal appearance and could be ready in less than five minutes. When his mental health is fully positive, he does take pride in his appearance, both in his personal grooming and his attire, and takes about forty-five minutes to an hour to be fully ready.

Their favourite thing to collect?

V is a photographer, so is it any surprise that he likes collecting photographs? He makes scrapbooks and has photo albums that he loves looking through. I also think he likes collecting wine, tobacco pipes, art, and vinyl records.

Left or right-handed?

I think V is ambidextrous. It’s how I’ve always headcanoned him, though I think he uses his right hand slightly more.

Religion (if any)?

V’s been raised in the Catholic faith and is still a practicing Catholic, though he attends church a lot less regularly than he would like and, while the whole Rika situation is going on, I think he feels like he doesn’t deserve the comfort of confession and it would be a while before he allows himself to participate in that ritual again.

Favourite sport?

V was never a big fan of sports, though he did try to enjoy them for his father’s sake growing up. I feel like he played football (soccer) during school because it was his father’s favourite sport and does know enough about baseball to be able to participate in conversations about it but generally isn’t all that into sports.

Favourite touristy thing to do when travelling (museums, local food, sight-seeing, etc.)?

All of it. Seriously, V actually really enjoys travelling. By the time he dies, he wants to have seen the whole world and he will do everything he can to immerse himself in a place and soak up all of the things it, and the culture, can provide. He likes art galleries and museums, visits museums based around history or culture, asks locals for restaurant recommendations so that he can get authentic meals, and does enjoy sight-seeing, both through guided tours and through just exploring on his own with his camera.

Favourite kind of weather?

It shifts…with Rika, in the beginning, V loved the sun. No day was as good as those where the sun shone brightly and warmed everything. But when things got bad with Rika, he developed an almost obsession with rainy days, with the heavy atmosphere and gloomy skies. When he mentally heals, I think he goes back to preferring warmer days, with the sun in the sky, but not quite to the almost obsessive level he had before.

A weird/obscure fear they have?

Honestly, it’s rejection. V is a people pleaser at heart, with a desire to be accepted and loved and he fears everyone rejecting him.

The carnival/arcade game they always win without fail?

I feel like V is actually really good at the goldfish catching festival/carnival booth. He always gets a fish, and he names every single one of them, though he tends to give them away to small children instead of taking them home.

[charlesandmartine]

Tuesday 30th April 2024

We were allowed to sleep in today, well until 6.45 at least. We had to have had breakfast, a wash behind the ears and present ourselves out on the platform for an 8am departure. For some unexplained reason we had spent the night parked in Bulawayo Station which was fine because there was no motion from travelling along the tracks, but there was a fair bit of noise from the engines that needed to be running to provide power to all our Aircon devices. So the train disgorged all of us and repackaged us into a plush coach. Bulawayo is an intensively poor city and full of the signs of what it once was. The station was a lovely redbrick reminder of UK stations as they used to be. Buildings built without budget to house all the admin features required of a terminus of this importance but sadly falling on desperate times and having allowed it's grandeur to diminish along with it's status. Passing through its portals we found ourselves on its forecourt and viewing Bulawayo critically for the first time. To our left was a colonial building of once great importance but now gutted and roofless. As our coach pulled out onto the main thoroughfare immediately to our left was a huge coal powered power station. Things hardly improved as we drew closer to downtown. Huddles of men stood on street corners awaiting work, shops with little provenance or purpose were opening for the day, rubbish stood piled on the streets, pavements were churned up in disorder, little traffic flowed and third world rather than modern city was its flavour. We drove on and fairly soon the streets became more manicured and bungalows more suited to a comfortable Surrey town became more prevalent. Mormon, JW, Catholic, CofE churches filled one street. Strangely, martial music of military bands filled the coach sound system. 40km passed quickly and we reached our destination, the Matobo National Park. Here we swapped vehicles for Land Rover Defenders ready for a tour of the Game Reserve. Just to be different, I chose the seat that sat forward on the nearside front wing offering a great view, feeling a direct attachment to the surroundings, albeit out on a limb and at the mercy of any oncoming potholes or branches. Pulling over into a clearing were invited to get out of the vehicle, joining two guides armed with what appeared to be kallashnicoff rifles and move silently into the undergrowth. There in front of us was a young male, and female white rhino grazing. The accompanying information from our guide was that the pair could charge unexpectedly. Frankly we were half expecting it so we kind of kept to one side. However, the encounter was in many ways primeval and surreal to be that close and on foot and on the same level to such large and dangerous beasts. Their tusks had been cut back to make them less attractive to poachers but they were now growing again.

We were then shown some ancient rock paintings left by bushmen of old. We were told throughout the region there were similar examples which have been dated to 50,000 years ago indicating this area of Africa to possibly being the birthplace of humanity.

And then back to the Land Rovers for perhaps the main event; the visit to the grave and final resting place of Cecil John Rhodes. We parked up and started to climb the rock scree up to a ridge with stunning far reaching views across the plains of bush and trees. There surrounded by huge boulders and in a prominent imposing position was the simple tomb of the man, still highly regarded here as a benefactor and founder of the country of Zimbabwe, formerly known as Rhodesia. In his time; founder of De Beers diamond company, Prime Minister of the Cape Colony, peace maker with the Matabele people, established the Rhodes Scholarships which still exist today and many other achievements. Dying in March 1902 in the Cape and buried at his request here in the Matobo Hills. We have been so impressed with the richness and beauty of the countryside here in rural Zimbabwe, but the extremes of wealth set alongside the more prevalent state of poverty; the despair instilled by a political system that seems overwhelming to the individual in the street and the impossibility of rectifying it, excruciatingly high inflation at 104%, high unemployment, the cheerful long-suffering and peaceful nature of the people, have all continued to surprise us on this trip.

We were returned to our coach and hence to the train in time for lunch.

What a fantastic day!

[1rakus]

anyway i havent read hdm in forever nor do i intend to revisit it again, thought-provoking and formative tour de force that it was. which is a damn shame because despite it technically being a children's series it was such an incredible critique and exploration of oppressive structures of christofascism and the patriarchal academic white tower. like as a catholic kid coming up-- and a yellow one from a colonized country at that!-- it really provided such a dynamic and engaging fantasy basis to explore those themes that i genuinely feel a lot of ADULTS today would benefit from having. but also philip pullman is somehow the most sexist patriarchy criticizer i've ever read works by to the point that saying there are feminist themes in hdm is laughable

[goldenponcho]

You Can Lead a Castellan to Water…

Chapter 2: A Castle Tour

Gail studied the little castellan as he walked ahead of her and his servants, entering a door at the side of the large audience hall, hands locked behind his back. She noticed with a bit of amusement that his nails were painted a dark blue that matched his coat and hat.

“As you can plainly see, Miss Crain, this castle is a vast stronghold, and every inhabitant is bent to my will. However, it isn’t easy keeping up with all of them at once. Best you not stray far, as I certainly would not want you falling prey to one of the plethora of lurking beasts that make their homes here.”

Gail gave a light breath of laughter, her eye catching the room through the archway to their left where some such “beast” seamed to be chained to a wall, “Yeah, I hate having roommates, too…”

In a synchronized motion that seemed as if her three captors were one being, the two hooded servants halted and Ramon twirled to face back toward her.

“Your quips are amusing,” he smirked, taking a step toward her. “But in my experience, waggishness tends to precede larger behavioral problems. Ones that require swift correcting…”

She shrugged her shoulders in defense, genuine surprise in her wide eyes, “I’m just trying to remain cordial! No one’s ever joked with you?”

Ramon’s own eyes narrowed, before turning to continue leading their trek through the massive structure, “I find that jokes toward me are rarely cordial, Miss Crain.”

“WITH. Not TOWARD… I feel like there’s a difference.”

Ramon humphed, leading them around a set of stone pillars.

“I’m not planning on pissing off my captor by making him the butt of a joke. I’m not an idiot.”

“Well, that’s certainly good to hear. Because those who make ME the butt of their jokes are not left with the capacity to laugh for long.”

The corners of Gail’s mouth turned downward, and she nodded, “Fair enough.”

A pair of what looked to be some type of robed monks bowed to the castellan and opened the next set of doors for them. As they entered, Gail took in the grid of pools that surrounded the walkway before them and the reflexions of the torches in the clear water.

“Wow…what’s this room for?”

Ramon glanced over his shoulder at the sudden question. He wasn’t used to spending any extended amount of time with someone who could hold a conversation…other than Lord Saddler, of course.

“My ancestors were some of the most devout Catholics in all of Spain. So much so, in fact, that they insisted on full immersion baptisms for any residing in the castle,” he looked over his shoulder again with a grin, “I made the decision to leave the room untampered with as I find the sound of running water relaxing.”

“Damn! And I thought Biltmore Estates was impressive…”

Her flattery hit it’s mark and had the desired effect.

“I have had the sacred duty of transforming this estate from its sacrilegious origins into a holy haven of protection. My ancestors were vile heretics, praying to a god who would deny his mercy to those who need it most…”

They ascended a wide set of stairs that brought them to the largest pool where they stopped, and the castellan turned to face Gail and her holders again. Two robed figures on the two raised walkways alongside them began turning cranks that raised their own passage across.

“Los Illuminados provides salvation to all who seek its divine grace. And soon, that will be the entire globe.”

Gail’s brow furrowed, “I’m guessing you’ll be going for less a “go forth and preach the word” approach and more a…”stick your fingers down people’s throats and implant parasitic eggs en masse” type of thing…”

“It will be as our gracious Lord Saddler wills it. But not everyone will be so blessed as us. For reasons that are only our Lord’s to know, he has deemed you a special case. Like myself, you will retain much of your humanity, your free will and intelligence,” he leaned forward, a mischievous glint in his yellow eyes, “but UNLIKE myself, your free will may be overridden should you choose to become unruly.”

She considered this as he turned to lead them across the new bridge to the door on the other side, “Well…guess I’ll have to behave myself, then…”

Ramon lifted his head, happy that the warning was clear, but also looking forward to the challenge should she NOT choose to behave herself.

As they had exchanged conversation, he noticed the subtle drawl in her voice. One that he could most closely compare to those he remembered hearing once in an American recording of a western radio show when he was young. He remembered laughing at the funny way the old cowboys spoke. Her accent was quite muted by comparison, but he found the sound…interesting.

The next room he led them through was almost stranger than the last; two massive Greek statues hung like stalactites from the vaulted ceiling. Gail wasn’t left to marvel for long as they headed up a left side staircase and into the next hall to the next room. Surely they would be at their destination soon. Though, she figured she should count herself lucky that their destination hadn’t been the prison in the first room.

Then they passed through that room.

And then the next…

“Sure do get your steps in around here, seems like.”

Ramon gave a nod, “Salazar Castle is the keeper of the ancient remnants of las plagas, which expand widely beneath it. There are certainly more rooms than would seem practical, even in a structure warranting such extravagance.

“Of course normally, there would be a quick trolley ride that would take us quite close to our destination, but it is in an unfortunate state of disrepair.”

Gail inhaled silently, “Any way I could KNOW what kinda destination we’re talkin’ about?”

Ramon gave a stern glance over his shoulder before deciding to indulge her, “You will be kept in my personal chambers. You are to be put on strict bed rest, as it will provide the best conditions for your plaga to thrive.”

Gail cocked her head, “Then what about you?”

Ramon didn’t look back, “WHAT about me?”

“Where do YOU sleep? I mean, I guess I haven’t seen the size of your bed. And you’re probably small enough to-“

She cut herself off as he made a sound of irritation, with a glare this time.

“I mean, it seems like a bit of an awkward situation, sharing a room.”

Ramon opened the next door, and they were outside.

“I won’t be needing a bed, as I rarely sleep, Miss Crain.”

Gail felt her cheeks grow a little hot at her presumption, “Oh…”

“You will be under close watch in the first stages of your transmogrification, and my own chambers are the most convenient place for that. I spend much of my time nearby, and when I am not there, our Lord’s servants will be. So no funny business, bonita.”

“So you’re telling me I get to lay around in a fancy castle all day while servants wait on me hand and foot?” she raised a brow, “Shit! I should’a joined up a long time ago!”

Ramon and his servants performed their synchronized halt yet again, and he fixed her with a warning look, “This is not a vacation for you, Miss Crain! You will soon be an important part of the most sacred organization mankind will ever encounter in its millennia of existence. You will show your respect.”

Her eyes were wide again, “Sorry…”

She sounded sincere enough for his scowl to soften, and they continued alongside what looked to be a garden maze. The corners of his mouth raised to nearly a smile as he shrugged one shoulder. “Though…you will be well taken care of. And the view will leave you wanting for nothing. Yes, we are both…quite lucky.”

They reached a door with an hourglass shaped relief in it. With a snap of the little man’s fingers, the cloaked creature to their right produced a concrete slab that fit into the indentation, one with a moon, and the door slid up to reveal a massive master bedroom.

As they walked in, Ramon motioned from the verdugo that still held Gail’s arm to the side of the bed, “Ponla ahí.”

The creature led her to where he had pointed, and to her slight surprise, it left her there unrestrained. She was quite sure that should she attempt an escape, the two hulking creatures could easily neutralize her.

The castellan turned to the other verdugo, “El botiquín, por favor.” And with that, the other creature retreated to the door on the other side of the bed.

“Do, please, have a seat, Miss Crain,” he motioned to the bed.

She did as requested, and he came to stand in front of her. She noticed that even seated there, she still had to look at just a bit of a downward angle to meet his gaze.

Without warning, he reached to cup her jaw in his palm. She jerked slightly, whether from the unexpected proximity to her face or, more likely, from the memory of those digits cramming themselves down her esophagus. She allowed him to examine her, however, apparently assessing the damage done by her previous, meathead captor.

“My sincerest apologies for the way that that lunkhead of a yanqui has treated you, señorita. Rest assured you will not be subject to such barbarism while in my care.”

“Damn decent of you,” she gave a slight start as he pulled down the bottom lid of the eye that hadn’t been blackened to examine that as well.

“Hmm…too early to tell, I suppose. All in good time.”

Gail ruminated on the implication before the red coated verdugo returned with the requested first aid kit. He started by cleaning the blood from her nose, seeing that it didn’t seem broken, and that she didn’t express any pain at the touch.

He held out a palm, “Your arm, por favor.”

She offered him the forearm with the deep cut, and he was surprisingly tender as he cleaned and dressed the wound.

“What in el nombre del Padre did you do to deserve these, querida chica.”

She gave an amused exhale, “I think it’s up for debate whether I deserved them… Honestly, I just think dude likes knives.”

Ramon glanced up from beneath his hat, “Are there more?”

“Only older ones. I’m a fast healer.”

“Mm,” he hummed with intrigue, “Soon to be even faster. The marks will be but a memory in only hours.”

Ramon could have sworn she had the look of wanting to say something, but she kept her thoughts to herself. He ran light fingers over her bandages before releasing her arm.

“I will have my servants draw you a bath, and you may choose from any clothing from the right wardrobe,” he motioned to the room from where the verdugo had retrieved the first aid.

She perked at “bath”, “A bath sounds INCREDIBLE right now!” she sprung to her feet, “Thanks, Ramon!”

Ramon’s eyes widened at the strange leap he felt inside him when she addressed him by his first name. Was that his plaga? Strange… And she was exorbitantly cheerful for someone who had been captured and force-fed a permanently body and mind-altering parasite. Saddler was right; he would need to keep eyes on this one at all times. That was what the zealots were for, after all.

As if reading his thoughts, there was the sound of the door on the opposite side of the room unlocking, and a group of zealots entered the room, two of them carrying a delicately detailed, brass tub.

“I will return tomorrow morning to assess your progress,” he joined his guards, stepping out of the then open door, “And do get plenty of bed rest; I wouldn’t want to be forced to strap you down.”

His smirk was the last thing she saw as the door came down to leave her in the room with the band of busy servants. She looked toward one of them, knowing she wouldn’t respond, but speaking to her anyway.

“Bit of a sadist, idn’t ‘e?”

Spanish Translation:

bonita - beautiful

ponla ahí - put her there

el botiquín - the medical kit

yanqui - yankee

el nombre del Padre - the name of the Father

querida chica - dear girl