#DO SOMETHING JOÃOZINHO

[https-mes-que-un-club]

It's either João hat-trick masterclass or twink death

@joão AWAKEN TWINK

[ariel-seagull-wings]

THE MAGIC HORSES

@adarkrainbow @themousefromfantasyland @professorlehnsherr-almashy @princesssarisa @amalthea9 @thealmightyemprex @faintingheroine @makingboneboy @shelleythesapphic @softlytowardthesun @grimoireoffolkloreandfairytales

(Brazilian Folktale)

One day there were three brothers, Pedro, José and Joãozinho, the youngest of all. Pedro went to his father one day and said to him:

"My father, know that I will take care of my own life."

The father insisted that he not go, but, seeing him obstinate, he consented, and instead of the blessing he did not ask for, he gave him a bag of money, which the son found little, so he gave him more. Days later, he was still crying about Pedro's absence, and his other son, José, approached the old man and said to him:

"My father, I want to go around the world and mind my own business. Instead of a blessing, I want money."

The poor man gave him advice, but when the boy didn't respond, he gave him another bag of money, and, as José found it too little, he gave him everything he had left. New tears and lamentations, but it wasn't long before Joãozinho, the youngest of the brothers, came to see his father, who said to him, with all affection and respect:

"My father, I come to ask for your blessing, as I also wish to leave."

The old man, as this was his dearest son, began to cry, but as the young man insisted and begged him a lot, he had no choice but to consent, but he told him that he had nothing to give him, except his blessing. Joãozinho replied that he didn't want anything else. And, having lunch and missing it a lot, he set off on his way.

Meanwhile, Pedro, after walking for a long time, he went to an old castle, where there was a beautiful orchard and a large vegetable garden, which, according to what saying, was devastated every night by mysterious horses, which no one could get hold of or restrain.

Pedro knocked on the door and asked for a job. The castellan told him what was happening and the boy proposed accepting the job of guarding the garden and defending it. At night the boy lay in wait, but eventually he fell asleep. The horses came and devastated the garden. Pedro woke up to the rumor. But the damage was already done and the animals disappeared as if by magic. The next day the castellan was indignant and fired the poor boy. After a few days he went there to see José. He was employed for the same purpose at the castle and the result was not different, so he was soon fired.

At that time Joãozinho was already traveling and, as he had no resources for accommodation, he spent the nights at the ranches. One of those nights the figure of Our Lady, his godmother, appeared to him, who blessed him and said:

"João, I will be with you, my son!"

Then she gave him some objects, saying:

"Take this hammock so that you can rest in it, and this little machete, so that you can have fun when you rest, and this box of pins that you will stick in the hammock, so that, when lying in it, you will always be vigilant."

Having said that, she disappeared, leaving the boy dazzled. Anyway, Joãozinho arrived at that castle and like his brothers did, he asked for a job. The castel lord made him an offer to guard the garden and Joãozinho accepted. At night he tied his hammock to the branches of two trees, stuck the pins in the hammock and started playing his little machete.

When he wanted to doze off, he felt the pins stick in him and he started playing the machete. Then he heard a rumor. It was the first horse, very beautiful and all baio, that arrived.

The youth went to meet the animal, having first plucked some cabbage leaves that he offered him. The horse, which was enchanted, said to him: "

"You did well to do this good deed. I won't ruin your garden. Take this thread from my tail in repayment and when you are in a pinch or when you want something, you have nothing to do but say these words, and I will be by your side:

Oh! my baio horse,

Long tail to the ground,

Shoed on all four feet,

Help me on this occasion"

Later a horse appeared, as beautiful as the other and all black. And everything happened as before, with the boy receiving a thread from the mysterious animal's tail. Almost at dawn the third appeared, a beautiful horse, all white. The same thing happened as with the others, Joãozinho receiving a strand of the white horse's tail. In the morning the castellan felt great admiration and joy when he saw that his garden had been spared. João kept what happened a secret and stayed in the castle for two years, from where he retired, very well paid, but with great sadness from his boss who loved him very much.

Continuing with his fate, he ended up in a large city, where there was a king who had a daughter, who would only marry the young man who, in the next horse racing tournament that was supposed to last three days, took the finger from his right hand. from the princess the ring she would bring, placed on the balcony of the highest floor of the palace.

João heard about this and went to work at the home of some young people who lived together, given over to great debauchery. The boys gave him kitchen work and began to treat him very badly; but the young man performed his duties well, and, although he had already recognized the two brothers among his bosses, he did not want to make himself known.

The youths also didn't talk about anything other than the tournament, and they all made a plan to each be the winner of the princess's hand. For this they ordered the best horses and on the announced day they left for the chosen place. When Joãozinho was alone, he took the hair from the bay horse's tail and said:

"Oh! my baio horse,

Long tail to the ground,

Shoed on all four feet,

Help me on this occasion."

Suddenly a beautiful and dazzling bay appeared before him, all dressed in silver and gold, while João saw himself, with amazement, dressed like a prince. He mounted his horse and left.

The candidates, who were many, had made the attempt in vain, when the strange rider appeared, who, in a flight, straightening himself in the stirrups of the saddle, almost took off the ring.

There was a lot of applause but the prize was not won. Everyone, including the princess and João's brothers, were dying to know who that knight would be. Inquiries were made, but nothing was discovered. On the second day, everything happened as on the first. João said:

"Oh! my black horse,

Long tail to the ground,

Shoed on all four feet,

Help me on this occasion."

So the black horse appeared, even better harnessed than the other, because everything about him was just gold and João was transformed by his clothes into a beautiful prince.

He mounted and left. The runners had completed the race in vain. Then the new knight appears and, in a flight of his horse, almost, by a whisker, snatched the ring from the princess who smiled, enchanted, at him. But even this time it was not discovered who the strange apparition was and a thousand searches and conjectures were made. The third and final test arrived.

Everyone rushes to the large tournament square, each of the knights riding the most beautiful and fiery animal. Joãozinho then, to play a good joke on his brothers and companions who had always mistreated him, broke all the pots and crockery in the house and left his name written on the wall, in charcoal, to make himself known. And then he took the thread from the white horse's tail and uttered the enchanted words:

"Oh my white horse,

Long tail to the ground,

Shoed on all four feet,

Help me on this occasion."

Soon the white horse appeared, even more beautiful than the others and better harnessed, as the harness was made of gold and diamonds. The prince's costume, which João's clothes weretransformed into, was richer than those of other times.

He mounted and rode away faster than the wind. The knights had already carried out the test in vain.

But the princess was waiting, smiling, for the mysterious knight. When he appeared in a rapid career through space, everyone looked at him in amazement, when, suddenly, with a jump from his horse, he passed like lightning through the air and took the ring from the princess's finger.

Everyone clapped, except Pedro and José, who were very envious, sad and overwhelmed.

The king went with his procession to meet João. They took the winner to the princess who was waiting for him, happy and laughing. When the brothers arrived home and found everything broken and in disarray, they were indignant, but when they saw their brother's name written on the wall, they immediately suspected that he was the mysterious knight, they went to meet him and apologized for the evil they had done to him.

João received them with joy and affection, wanted them to attend his wedding with the princess and found them good jobs in the palace.

Everyone was very happy. And so, the story entered through one door and left through another, one, two, three... amen.

[biandanxious18]

When I was a kid, I had really long, hip-long hair, I remember. Then when I was 6 I decided I wanted it cut really short - boy-short -, not for any specific reason other than I thought it was pretty, I think I had seen it on women at the time, on TV too, and I thought it looked cute. It wasn’t about being rebellious or gender-non-conforming. I was 6. I thought it was cute. The length that in english you’d call pixie-cut, I guess, but in Brasil we call it “joãozinho”, which means “little john”.

My parents got me and all of my friends together on my birthday, we took a trip to my grandparents’ at the beach. My mom tied my hair in a braid and cut it for me. I went to the mirror and said I wanted it shorter. She cut it shorter. My mom always cut my hair when I was a kid. She cut and dyed her own hair too.

Anyways, in retrospect I think that was pretty badass of me. Little 6yo going “shorter”. I liked pink. I liked princesses. I had a phase where I refused to wear anything that wasn’t a dress. I just thought it’d be cute, I think. Or no, actually I just wanted to do it. I have no idea how my dad felt about it. He didn’t like to let my brother do overly feminine things, but I think he was mostly scared he’d be bullied for it. I don’t know. My dad is a feminist. He cries. He’s a bit sexist and a bit homophobic at times but he doesn’t want to be. He’s trying.

My mom is also a feminist, even though she says she enjoyed the attention of being cat-called by creepy, old men in the street. “It’s a compliment”. She says she misses it, made her feel young, pretty and thin, I guess. My mom is beautiful. I don’t know why I felt the need to say that.

She always cut my hair when I was a kid, but around my pre-teens I started to go to hairdressers. I’d always go through a somewhat yearly cycle of letting my hair grow, wanting it long, getting tired of it, wanting it short, getting it cut, loving it, wanting it long. Except when I didn’t love it, of course. I remember back in 2018 I got a haircut and it looked awful. I went home, crawled in bed with my mom and cried, I hated it so much. In retrospect, I don’t know why I didn’t do anything about it, didn’t re-cut it or something, I just grew it out.

I started dying my hair red in 2016. First time I did it at the hairdresser too. Expensive as shit. I didn’t like it. I said I did. To the lady, and whoever asked, and even myself. But I didn’t, it didn’t look how I wanted it to. Next time I did it at home. My mom dyed it for me because she knew how to. To get the roots and the back and all. I really liked it. I loved it. I never dyed my hair at the hairdresser again.

After that terrible 2018 cut I grew it out. Didn’t feel the urge to cut it the following year - or fought it off, I don’t know. When 2020 came around, my hair was the longest and most beautiful it had been in I don’t even know how long. The red really suited me too. People - my friends - couldn’t even imagine me without it, and when I would think of shaving the side of my head, for instance, I actually imagined it growing back red. It was part of me, even though it was fake.

Anyways, a month into the pandemic I shaved it all off. Clean zero, no mercy, didn’t spare a centimetre. Shaved it off. To be fair, it felt like it had been way more than a month by that point. It felt like it had been forever. I think I wanted something fresh, something new, something different and bold and radical and mine. And if it looked awful nobody would see it anyways. Once in a lifetime opportunity - hopefully.

I loved shaving my head. I had my friends on a video call. My mom helped with the back that time too. I have the whole thing recorded, took about 10 minutes. I loved it. It was cold in my scalp though. It was fun.

I wonder what my grandma thought of it. Or my grandpa. My dad liked it. Said I looked like an orthodox jewish woman a bit. I could see that.

But I remember this one time. Not too many months later, a couple maybe, we went to visit my grandparents at the beach. And by that point I wasn’t going outside much, but the beach was such a wide, open space, we could social distance to a safe measure. So I went. And at some point I decided to take a walk along the shore and I just remember having the oddest feeling. Just feeling like… Feeling the absence of the male gaze on me, really. And I had never realised it was there before in the first place. But now it was gone. Like without my long, beautiful hair I wasn’t as attractive - as desirable - as before. And it felt… bad.

And it was weird, but I had never realised the validation I felt from being gazed at. How affirming it was. I guess this is what my mom was talking about. Maybe she was just more honest about it than me.

And don’t get me wrong because I don’t want to submit to gender conformity and whatever that feeling was about. And I had so many different hairs during the pandemic, just having shaved it really gave me some freedom to do whatever, because if all went to shit and it looked terrible I’d just shave it again. And I explored gender and gender-non-conformity and I look at the pictures from when I had really short hair a couple years ago and I think it looks so... I miss it.

I’m kind of growing it out now, though. I don’t know, I just wasn’t really doing anything about it and it was just growing, then last year I cut it but I didn’t really love how it turned out. Made me think longer hair suits me more. I look prettier, I guess. I hate how gender conforming I am nowadays. I don’t know if it’s because I moved countries and it made me feel more secure. Sometimes I’m not, though. [Gender conforming, I mean]. I’ve been thinking about it. I feel like when I was an antisocial kid I cared much less about how others perceive me. I remember once working on a group scene where everyone was sharing hurdles they went through to try and achieve beauty standards. I didn’t really have much to share. I didn’t diet, I didn’t put myself through things that hurt. It’s different now. I often think the more social I became along the years, the more I fell into that.

I liked a boy in my class when I was 6. A few years later - and I had changed schools at this point - one of my friends from that class told me he had liked me too, but not anymore after I cut my hair. I don’t know if that’s true.

[blogadrianaleite-blog]

DEUSES DO BRASIL - ERÊ /GODS OF BRAZIL -ERÊ

Espíritos que servem como intermédio entre o Orixá e a humanidade. Quando Orixá quer dá um recado, ele usa o erê. Quer dar um recado ao Orixá? Fale com o erê.

A sua origem e definição vem tendo discordâncias entre o religiosos da umbanda e candomblé. Muitos erês têm sua origem comum, crianças que nasceram na terra e que morreram ainda crianças. Daí nas suas manifestações, se comportarem como crianças. Gostarem muito de doce, brinquedo e claro: caruru. Outra corrente defende que eles nunca nasceram na que o comportamento ingênuo e infantil é oriundo da vibração em que eles se manifestam: Dos Orixas Ibeji e Obo. Os deuses gêmeos adolescentes.

Veja a origem do erê Joãozinho, que veio na barriga da mãe em um navio negreiro. Até o final de setembro, falarei sobre essa entidade maravilhosa, tão meiga e tão inocente, que quando vêm a Terra, só querem brincar e comer.

HISTÓRIA DE UM ERÊ JOÃOZINHO

Chegou ao Brasil no ventre de sua mãe em um navio negreiro, no ano de 1670. Demorou para entender o que era ser escravo e vivia "aprontando das suas": escodendo objetos, correndo pela fazenda e cutucando os bichos. Apanhava muito por conta disso, mas não deixava de rir e de fazer das suas. Dizia que assim ele podia alegrar os outros escravos! E realmente era assim que ele passava os dias: alegrando e brincando com os demais.

Um dia, porém, em uma de suas traquinagens, ele escondeu o laço do capataz e foi o suficiente para ir pro tronco. Todos os negros pediram por ele, pois falaram que ele não fazia por maldade; mas não adiantou. Joãozinho anoiteceu e amanheceu no tronco... Ele tinha 6 anos na época. Quando tiraram ele do tronco estava triste e nunca mais sorriu. A partir daí começou a definhar e a morrer aos poucos. Quando ele desencarnou foi um luto só na fazenda! Até os animais sentiram... A terra secou, os bichos se aquietaram e ninguém mais sorriu. O dono da fazenda pediu ao capataz o que aconteceu e, quando soube, arrependeu-se... Mas, Joãozinho não voltaria mais. Sua mãe de tristeza também se deixou morrer.

Tempos depois, os escravos começaram a contar que viam mãe e filho a andar pelas terras... E sempre que alguma coisa sumia, diziam: "- Foi o Joãozinho!" Então eles colocavam um doce para o menino e o objeto reaparecia. E assim Joãozinho ficou conhecido como o Pererezinho do Ceará!

Fonte: Blog Umbanda em Paz

Spirits that serve as an intermediary between the Orixá and humanity. When Orixá wants to give a message, he uses the erê. You want to give Orixá a message? Talk to erê.

Its origin and definition have had disagreements between the religious of umbanda and candomblé. Many Erese have their common origin, children who were born on earth and who died as children. Hence in their manifestations, behave like children. They like candy, toy and of course: caruru. Another current argues that they were never born in that naïve and childish behavior comes from the vibration in which they manifest themselves: Dos Orixas Ibeji and Obo. The teenage twin gods.

See the origin of joãozinho erê, who came in his mother's belly on a slave ship. By the end of September, I will talk about this wonderful entity, so sweet and so innocent, that when they come to earth, they just want to play and eat.

HISTORY OF ERÊ JOÃOZINHO

He arrived in Brazil in his mother's womb on a slave ship in 1670. It took him a while to understand what it was like to be a slave and he was "readying his own": brushing objects, running around the farm and poking the animals. I'd get beat up a lot because of that, but I couldn't stop laughing and making yours. He said that this way he could cheer up the other slaves! And that's really how he spent his days: cheering and playing with the other ones.

One day, however, in one of his misdeeds, he hid the foreman's noose and was enough to go to the trunk. All the blacks asked for him, for they said that he did not do it out of wickedly; but it didn't work. Little John dawned and dawned on the trunk... He was 6 at the time. When they pulled him off his torso, he was sad and never smiled again. From then on he began to languish and die gradually. When he disincarnaided it was a mourning only on the farm! Even the animals felt... The earth dried up, the bugs quieted down and no one else smiled. The owner of the farm asked the foreman what happened, and when he found out, he regretted... But Little John wouldn't come back. Your mother of sadness also let himself die.

Later, the slaves began to tell that they saw mother and son walking the land... And whenever something was gone, they said, "It was Little John!" Then they would put a candy for the boy and the object would reappear. And so Joãozinho became known as the Pererezinho of Ceará!

Source: Umbanda Blog in Peace

[flosiovis]

@sorte-de-vida​: ( TOUCH ) “accidentally” briefly touching mine.

He can say that he didn’t anticipate in the middle of a professional business dinner for Antonio to run his fingers right up his thigh. Fucker, he’s always been sensitive in the thighs. The muscle tenses under the featherlight touch, and only Antonio is likely close enough to hear him suck a sharp, quick breath in through his nose.

That’s likely for the best.

Hazel eyes dart over to the spaniards smug little face, and he gives a huff when he gives an “oops, sorry.” And leaves it at that. With a stab to one of his pastas he takes a bite, though then it happens again. João nearly chokes on the bite the second time.

This time, he meets him with a glare. He’s going to kill him…

The glare isn’t enough to dissuade him from trying a third time, but almost getting caught is - oh, João, you are lucky that Antonio actually wants to keep his new job. Or maybe not so lucky. Antonio smiles at him, bringing his hand up to rest on the edge of the table, tap-tap-tapping those fingers along the side of the plate momentarily.

“Ay, Joãozinho, don’t be a glutton. If you don’t hold yourself back you might choke,” Antonio pokes at him, gesturing with his fork, that shit-eating grin still present on his face. His brilliant green eyes have nearly turned into crescents with the laughter he is holding back, nose wrinkling at the bridge. He can’t eat, scared of retaliation and of being spoiled ... there is such a thing as life-changing food, he won’t risk it.

But he does slide his hand down beneath the table again, inching closer by-the-knuckle, leaning in as if to ask him something relevant: “You don’t want to choke, or do you?” (The smell of wine is still sweet on his lips but where the hell did he get... ah, who cares, he kissed the inside of his thigh briefly with his fingertips,) “It would be a reason to get the hell out of here at the very least.”

[portuguesecreatureslegendsgalore]

Werewolves

Welcome, welcome! It's the first actual post on this blog Portuguese Creatures and Legends Galore! and I hope you're as excited as I am!

Today, I decided to start with something simple. Lobisomem (the -lobis of the word comes from lobo=wolf and -omem comes from homem=man) Or as it’s known in English: Werewolf.

There are a lot of tales with werewolves, all over the country. This isn't a regional thing, unlike some other creatures.

Now, I don't need to explain what a werewolf is, do I? It's a creepy human-wolf thingy that looks human most of the time, except during nights with a full moon.

There are lots of ways you can turn into a werewolf in Portuguese stories. People can be cursed, be born with it, etc... but the two most common ways someone turns into one is if they are the seventh boy born into an uninterrupted line of boys (which will be discussed later) or because the godfather or godmother screwed up their lines during the baptism of the child now-also-werewolf.

Godparents were so important back then in Portugal. Their role went beyond the religious one. They provided with help, the first pair of earrings girls had, money to get an education, an apprenticeship, and if the parents died, the godparents would adopt their godchild. There are a lot of bad things that can happen if the godfather/godmother said the words wrong, in Portuguese folklore, as they would turn into something else.

It's a lot of pressure to put on someone if ask me.

''Just say the words right, damnit. Because, if my daughter becomes a witch I'll break your neck, Pedro!''

So, let's say that Pedro did screw up the lines and his godchildren now became supernatural beings. Great job, Pedro! Now poor Joãozinho is a werewolf and poor little Maria is a witch. What happens, then?

Well, from a non-defined age, poor Joãozinho will turn into a werewolf during the full moon. When night comes, he will go to a crossroad, dump his clothes in the nearest tree and transform into the typical person-wolf mix. The night he turns is not going to be a calm one. Poor Joãozinho has got to run his fado (fate). Werewolves are corrilários too, after all. The post about them is probably already available, so go look for it on the blog!

What, you thought you just turned every full moon, messed up lives for a bit and came back to normal at the end of the night?! Nope! 

Joãozinho will have to run through seven cemeteries, seven crossroads, and seven villages. Then he has to come running back, get his clothes and go home before anyone notices he's gone.

Do you think this is bad? In a story I read, the werewolf had to run through seven villages that specifically had churches blessed by a king.

It's hard being a werewolf in Portugal... There's just so much to do, that you can't even enjoy screwing around with people! Gotta run, run, run!

Or else...

Or else....?

If you fail to complete your fado or happened to die while in werewolf form, you become what's known as an alma-penada, which means they are a soul that just... stays... It’s for another story, I think. But the basic summary is: you die as a crazy wolf, you live your afterlife as a crazy wolf.

Is there anything that can be done to help poor Joãozinho?

There are two ways an outsider can help break the curse. In stories it's usually done by a family member because they're the ones that care, I guess, but I've never heard that it was obligatory.

The first one is making the werewolf bleed. Just throw him a rock (not actually recommended) or cut him with a knife or sharp stick. Have clothes ready for them, please, because this isn't Twilight and he won't have shorts on when he turns back into a human. Joãozinho left his clothes at the crossroad, after all.

The second one is a bit tricky. You have to go fetch the clothes poor Joãozinho left in the tree to burn them. Sounds easy, but be careful. As soon as you touch those clothes, the werewolf will know and it will come back from wherever it is to maim you. Be quick and preferably be in a locked space. Make sure those doors are solid because it will fight to get to you all night until all of those clothes are nothing but ash. When it's all done, bring clothes. The ex-werewolf is gonna be naked, you just burned his clothes, and it's pretty damn cold at sunrise. 

That sounds like too much work. I just want the werewolf to stop eating my sheep. Can't I just kill him?

Killing is always an option. Just stab him with a silver dagger.

No, no silver bullets. That's cheating and it won't work. You have to get close and personal with the werewolf (with the least amount of claws and teeth you can manage) and stab him. After that, just enjoy your happily ever after with or without poor Joãozinho.

We will talk about poor little Maria some other time.

And here ends our time for today! I hope you enjoyed this small talk about the overcomplicated werewolves in Portuguese folklore.

Sources: ''Seres Mágicos em Portugal'' by Vanessa Fidalgo

Oral tradition