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fuwafuwamedb · 4 years

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Fluffy Fou and the Mystery of the Trinity Trio (Gudako, Mash, Merlin, Da Vinci, Ozymandias, Gilgamesh, Edmond, Fou)

Gudako looked to the woman across from her, nodding as they heard the sound of shouting in the air. Their hands gripped the rope on the floor, waiting until the signal came by. The first thing they could see was the flow of white robes whipping passed them, the screaming passed.

Merlin’s arms were waving, his eyes were wide, almost equaling out with his gaping mouth as he ran passed them. Just behind him, they could see the fluff of Fou, his hackles raised as he yelped and cried as he ran alongside the magician. The two fools were rushing to the stairwell, trying to make way for the exit of the building before they could be slaughtered.

“NOW!”

Mash lifted her side of the rope, following her lead as they held the wire up and waited for the impending assailant.

The first one they saw was the jackal, the one that had been told about over and over again in the village nearby. The great golden eyes gazed upon her as they fell, their hands unable to stop the fall due to the rope that was wrapping around their feet.

Their laughter diminished, their body hitting the floor with a resounding slam.

“WE DID IT!” Gudako grinned, rushing forward only to pause.

If they had done it… then why…

Why did she still hear laughter in the air?

She whipped around the moment that the golden masked figure came into view. Alongside him, there was someone who wore one of those bird seed bags, the burlap slitted were the eyes were.

The laughter rang in the air, the two figures moving in as the jackal headed one began to grab for her.

“GUDAKO!”

Mash reached for her, but it was going to be too late. They couldn’t manage it.

They were going to be caught here and now. There would be no saving them now. Whatever had happened to Hakuno and Haydee and Nefertari; they would never know. They would end up being five more names of missing people. There was no-

“You all didn’t forget about little ol’ me, did you?”

The sound of a smack could be heard, ringing in the air as Burlap Face and Golden Mask were struck. Their bodies shook for the half second they were hit, the electricity of the inventor’s creation running through their bodies.

As they fell, Gudako felt a weight lifting from her chest. Her eyes landed on no one better than the greatest genius in the entire universe.

“Da Vinci!”

Mash grinned, smacking the Jackal in the head.

“I thought you were lost!”

“I was actually, oh.” Da Vinci held up a hand. “Ladies? If you could come collect these three fools, we really should report their antics to the authorities.”

Gudako frowned, looking to Mash a moment before she looked to inventor again.

“Da Vinci, they’re not human. They’re divine, remember? It’ll be hard to… um…”

A young woman rushed forward to Burlap, pulling the cover for his face away and hugging him close. The man didn’t even worry about what had just happened, opting to simply pull the woman close and wrap her in his green cloak. The low murmurs between the two were impossible to make out, but Da Vinci sighed.

“At least try to get after him,” she told the girl, glancing over as two more women appeared.

Both of them tapped their feet as they stood next to Da Vinci.

“Oh… OH!” Mash gasped, looking to her now. “I think I know who the Trinity Trio is!”

“You do?” Gudako looked to her, earning a nod.

“You remember when we had to look at the kidnapped women’s homes? The sacrifices?”

She paused, thinking back to the homes.

Nefertari’s house had held a bunch of pictures of a lost lover of hers. She’d been getting prepared for marriage to someone she hadn’t been interested in. Since she was the first of the trio to be abducted, most people had thought her dead lover had returned or that she had simply made up the kidnapping as a reason not to marry.

The second home, Hakuno’s, had been strange.

She’d had gold and jewels, all of which were definitely not hers, according to her roommate, Rin. The woman had insisted that Hakuno had been taken and had revealed the kidnapping note that had been left.

“Hakuno had a picture in one of her books when Merlin was snooping,” Mash reminded her.

“She did? I don’t remember that.”

Mash nodded, glancing over at the golden masked man. “You weren’t kidnapping random brides before their wedding days. You were kidnapping your lovers!”

“Hakuno would wish herself so lucky,” Gold Mask replied, pulling off his mask and throwing the thing aside. “However, if she thinks she can marry anyone else, she has another thing coming. Namely me.”

“You could always ask me,” Hakuno pointed out.

“Ozy,” Nefertari moved between them all, moving to the Jackal. “Let’s stop this. You’ve scared enough villagers and people. There’s no need for this. Just take me home, please. You’re making yourself look like a coward.”

“I just wanted you safe,” the Jackal murmured a moment before the man’s hand pulled the strange headdress from his person. The great face of the beast vanished as the headdress was cast aside. His arms wrapped around the woman, pulling her close. “To think that I would return from war alongside these two only to find that the place we had set you in had planned to sacrifice you all to others as their wives.”

Gudako shook her head at the group, moving slowly to her feet.

“You managed to stop us, Chaldean,” Ozy declared, “but do not be a fool. We are capable of- AH, my water lily, your hand is-“

“Stop it,” Nefertari pressed her fingers to the man’s ear, tugging on it. “Thank the girls for stopping you three from getting into serious trouble.”

“A pharaoh knows when he is beaten, my love!”

“Ramses…”

The man pulled her closer, pressing his lips to hers a moment before he smiled, moving to stand up carefully. “We shall end our haunting for now. The Trinity Trio shall cease!”

“And?” Nefertari encouraged.

“It is grand to have our women back! A FEAST! We need to have a feast, men!”

“Ramses! Thank the Chaldeans!”

Mash laughed, shaking her head.

They could hear Merlin and Fou coming back up the stairs, their heads popping up slowly in the stairwell.

“Ah!” Merlin grinned. “Mission success. Well done, Fou. We took them down.”

Fou barked.

Gudako could only shake her head, glancing to her partner in crime solving.

It was just another day in the life of the Chaldeans.

#drabble #drabbles

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musicofglassandwords · 4 years

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A Thousand Words

hey everyone, sorry I’ve been gone for so long. I’ll be catching up on tags and everything very soon! Meanwhile, I hope you like this short story! I was inspired by The Picture of Dorian Gray. I tried to write it in a thousand words but only managed to cut it down to 1062.

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They said that a picture was worth a thousand words. As always, she would laugh at their mortality, the mundane of their beliefs.

Because she breathed a truth that a picture was worth a dozen divine commands.

She positioned her brush above the canvas, breathing life into the pigments. Ruby red brushed across the canvas. Hints of gold and green were precisely shaded in. The artist paused, adjusting the empty stool before her.

Swipe after swipe of thick oil paint began to form an outline that seemed a little too crude to be imagined art. After all, art was only the illusion of a better life, of an idealized future.

The air above the stool shimmered.

A round blur appeared, followed by a stem topping the brilliant fruit. Finally, with sweat dripping down her face, she set down her instrument.

Reaching past her colorful canvas, she bit into the freshly painted apple sitting on the stool in front of her.

The taste was sweet on her tongue.

Her skill had bought her everything in life. And how she drank in the praise. With an immortal skill combined with her level head, no doors were barred to her. The wealth of the world was hers to demand, the love of whomever she pleased.

But soon, like so many others, she chose her eternal reward in a flawed, imperfect mortal.

Love had always been blind, but it had never been a disability when it came to the hours of rapture she spent in his presence. She could fell him with a smile, torture him with desire, and he would worship her for every moment.

In her darkest days, he dragged laughter out of her, his honeyed words far better than any sweet money could buy. A beautiful equilibrium balanced them between the chaos of life and the numbness of living. A love with the maturity of experience and the delight of youth.

Around her, gossip rained, awash with envy, but their words fell like such empty noise. Time was wasted listening to them when she could be listening to him.

He would raise his hand, brush it down her face, finger the gold embroidery on her bodice until she shivered. He touched her with a reverence reserved for royalty.

A few nights of passion, and the warnings began.

Her path was leading her straight to a place of darkness and demons.

And she cared not one bit, drunk on the feel of his skin on hers. If this was hell, she would burn with pleasure. Her canvases began to blanket themselves in dust, the brush falling from her hand.

One day she looked into the mirror, and found her hands smoother and softer than ever before. The calluses of a painter gone from her clever fingers.

But as his arms wrapped around her, she felt no less magic in her soul. The void of losing her art was easily and shallowly filled.

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They said that Lucifer smiled as he fell from heaven, intoxicated on the glory of the fall.

But for mortals, there was no glory to be had in losing heaven.

She came home late one evening, eagerly entering their room. The glow from her face withered slowly.

He looked up at her, eyes still glazed. The face of a young woman who had always been indistinct from the adoring crowd now burned itself into her memory, as she peeked out from under his bare chest.

How crude she looked, face smeared with coral paints, was all the artist could think.

Words came stammering out.

A mistake, she’d left him lonely, she couldn’t blame him.

The artist had turned into a marble statue. Pale as snow, except for two blood red patches on her cheeks. Ignoring the abashed girl in the bed, she stalked forward. Bile burned in the back of her throat. Betrayal rang through her mind.

His fault. His choice. His feelings.

She tore her heart out as if it was nothing and tossed it away. How she would sob later. How she would scream. But anger had taken control of her, numbing all else, as she slapped him sharply across the face and fled.

The evidence of torn lace, thin silks, and perfume made a hearty feast for her worshippers, and the rumors abounded, faster than a flock of vultures feasting on the remains of her reputation.

The house echoed with her screams of agony. Her fingers bled as she clawed at every reminder of him. Her scalp ached where she’d torn at the hair he’d caressed so lovingly. A void had ripped itself into her.

And finally she grabbed a brush.

It called to her, ghosts haunting her dreams. And she slashed her instrument like a sword across a brittle canvas. Memories blurring her vision. Tears dripping down her face, smearing paint.

Her blood on the canvas. His soul before her.

An outline began to emerge, a head thrown back. Dark hair brushed against a pale face. A single emerald earring drowning in red.

She stepped back, breathing hard. Her heart was pounding so hard, she felt like she was about to burst. Energy coursed through her veins, yet she felt like the walking dead.

She collapsed on her bed, eyes dry, head empty. There was nothing else she needed to do.

Forget, forget, forget.

This was one tragedy in an all-encompassing legacy. He was a faulty color in the masterpiece in her love.

But when she closed her eyes all she could see was his face. The slight annoyance in his eyes shamelessly pointed at her. All she could hear was the sound of his voice, accusing her. The blame so evident, so clear.

When she woke up the next morning, a servant approached cautiously, gently informing her that her lover had passed in the night. Internal bleeding had been his demise.

The artist nodded, sipping slowly at her tea. The taste was bitter as the maid left the room. Sequestered in the darkest corner of her room was the painting, her love splayed out on the floor in horrific detail, bleeding out.

A picture was worth a thousand words.

I loved you, I love you, I hate you, how could you.

You, you, you. I, I ,I.

The artist leaned back, eyes wide and focused on the heavens. Her brush lay besides her, stained with crimson red.

#writing #writeblr #my writing #young writer #short story #fantasy

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visionofnoxus · 4 years

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❀

❀ - to grab my muse by the jaw and force them to meet your muse’s gaze

// There we have it. I hope it pleases you and provokes thougths. Please do comment and give feedback.

"With me, Ra’Horak!” Leona ordered, raising her blade above her head, the blessed blade shining light into the dark passage way. “We will enter this shrine and end this conflict once and for all today” She declared. With a determined step, her bodyguard following close behind, the Avatar strode down the tunnel that was carved into the mountainside. Steps had been dug to the stone, the pathway snaking forward, descending and ascending as it traveled inside the mountain. Finally, torchlight ahead marked the end of their path, Leona bracing herself for the encounter with the arch heretic. It was time they’d put an end to this. With this thought in mind, she stormed up the final steps, entering the open cave that was the entrance into the Lunari shrine, lips already starting to form Diana’s name for challenge.

Her amber colored eyes went wide with surprise as she witnessed their opposition however. Instead of Diana and a handful of her cultists, the Chosen of Sun and her warriors were met with a cohort of Trifarian Legionnaires. Their great weapons gleamed ominously in the torchlight, the closed helmets and blood colored tabbards making the Noxians look like a wall of dark gargoyles, barring the Solaris’ access deeper into the cave complex and to their foe. Gritting her teeth, Leona eyed her opposition, taking in the new situation. She did not know how the Noxians could be here, nor why. Ra’Horak behind her were waiting, thirsting for a fight. Such was the effect of zeal on most men, and the Solari were not immune to this. It granted them ferocity and resolve, but there was a worrisome feeling radiating off the noxian warriors. They were calm. Ready to fight and alert, but at ease. And Leona had seen enough wars and fighting to know how most skirmishes between heavily armored knights and more lightly equipped warriors ended. Her followers were good, more than good. They were excellent. But something about these Noxians gave her a vibe they were veterans of many battlefields. And Noxus had plenty of wars on which to bloody their troops. If the Solari wanted a swift victory, and one that’d not rob them of strength to complete their true goal, Leona would need an angle. A trump card.

Her eyes shot up to look at the iconography depicted on the walls. This was a Lunari shrine built into the mountainside. There was a very real possibility her power was greatly diminished. Additionally, while scanning the cave’s edges and carved pillars, she noticed the tiniest glimmer of something. Swallowing a curse, the woman fixed her gaze back on the Noxians. Not only the warriors. There were several assassins hiding in the shadows, no doubt ready to pounce at the first chance. Which led the valkyrie into the next logical question: Why had they not sprung the trap?

“Leona, the Chosen of the Sun. The descriptions do not do you justice, my lady” A smooth voice called from behind the line of noxian steel, two of the large warriors stepping aside, making way for an older man clad in long arms coat, the feather shaped polets on his shoulderguards clicking with each step. Long silver hair reached to his shoulders and a dark iron breastplate underneath the coat gave out that this man too was a soldier. “And you are the raven general” Leona asserted with a tense voice, her eyes narrowing. “The tyrant of Noxus”. She’d heard of the new leader of the empire. Seeing the man approach so boldly, Leona chose to match him, stepping forth, motioning for her warriors to remain still. The two stood head to head, the valkyrie easily match and more in physicality to the general.

“I am not a tyrant but one of three” the noxian corrected her, but the Solari wasn’t having any of it. “One tyrant or three, that is Noxus’ business. But you lowlanders have no business in Mount Targon’s territory” She asserted glaring at the man. “And this matter is strictly ours to deal with”. Now it was the old raven that spoke, his voice turning cold and strict as opposed to the earlier levity. “These mountain ranges do not hold Targonian settlements and are at the very best on the very outskirts of your realm” The man spoke in lecturing note, as if talking to a brazen child. “Do not take me for a fool. We have been invited to this temple and that is a courtesy I assure you our host does not extend to the Solari” He finished, ever so slightly nodding at the crescent moon icon above. Leona was taken back by the insolent speech, drawing breath for an angry retort when the man rose his hand as if asking her to quiet. “My lady, I ask that you consider the lives of your subordinates before trying to insult my intelligence in the future. As long as the situation remains as it is, your subjects’ lives are in my hand”.

There was a surge of anger in the ranks of Ra’Horak, but Leona understood painfully well the wisdom of the man’s words. Additionally, the Noxian had something unsettling, unnatural about him that hid just below the surface. The Avatar sensed it, but was unable to pinpoint the exact source right now. Swallowing her pride for the sake of her followers and the quest they’d taken up, Leona spat out her reply: “What do you want, Noxian?”.

The general offered her a minuscule nod of approval in recognition of her choice. The man stepped closer and Leona cursed the underground location they were in, for she’d liked nothing else than to scorch this outsider. “I ask the Solari to leave and return no sooner than tomorrow. And I demand a glimpse into you” the Grand General explained cryptically, his left hand reaching up and seizing her jawline. In that very moment, Leona made her choice. She’d smite down this man right now for the insolence of laying a hand on her, and consequences be damned. But that thought was wiped away the very second it formed, the surprising strength of the man’s grip forcing her to stare into the Noxian’s eyes.

And at that moment, the blood escaped her face. The crimson colored irises of the general stared into her eyes, and she felt something vile and unnatural connect them. The gloved hand touching her face and those inhumane eyes, they pulled at something within her, the divine essence of her goddess rising to shield her as the Noxian peered into her soul. It was few seconds that this contact lasted, such was the ward of her god, but for Leona it felt much longer. She saw memories of herself and of what must have been him. There were the slopes of Targon, then tall towers built of stone and decorated with iron. Her childhood home, then rows and rows of faceless warriors clad in red and black, marching to war. The steps leading into the temple dedicated to her Goddess, and suddenly just a field of carnage, ravens feasting on the fallen in some faraway land. Flashes back and forth, Leona’s mind barely had time to understand each picture. And then the offending hand was gone from her skin, the man’s eyes just a shade of bronze.

Leona took a step back, shaken. The Solari had fought men and monsters, stared down creatures most people had not heard of. But this thing she’d just met was something dark and primordial. And she had no idea what it could be. “Thank you for your cooperation. Now, a single night is what I asked. Please leave” The general spoke in polite and respectful tone, but his eyes were as cool as and harsh as the coldest night on Targon’s highest slopes.

#papa burd storytimes #ask-leona #diana might be interested in this as well #a bit different take once again no?

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rhysand-vs-fenrys · 5 years

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The Cabin By the Lake: NSFW Bonus Chapter 3b

This is an extended Morridwen scene from my fic “The Cabin by the Lake”, where Mor and Cerridwen’s reunion is extended into an NSFW scene.

Chapter 1 (Feysand) || Chapter 2 (Azuala) || Chapter 3: (Morridwen) || Chapter 4: (Elucien) || Chapter 5: (Amrian)

For my fanfiction library visit @rhysand-vs-fenrys-vs-writing

The Cabin by the Lake (Exclusive): NSFW Morridwen

That night meant nothing.

Mor could still taste the female’s kiss.

She meant nothing.

The sound of her breathless gasps still filled Mor’s fantasies.

None of it meant anything.

A kiss so fiercely passionate it set their blood boiling and drew and undignified moan from her lips.

I love you, Morrigan.

And then she simply vanished.

For three hundred years Mor took up a vigil on the anniversary of their meeting. Centuries of searching for a female no one knew in a city no one could enter or leave. She should have been found in a day- but she’d remained elusive. Mor still took lovers, but a part of her would inevitably compare them to that perfect, dark-skinned female and suddenly they were the ones who meant nothing.

Both of them had been masked and far from sober. The sex wasn’t what stood out in her memory- it was how right everything felt. Her body fit against Mor’s perfectly, her dark skin was a perfect complement to Mor’s golden tone, and the sound of her voice-

-it was the most perfect sound she could imagine.

That perfect match was what her greedy heart craved.

But… nothing. Three hundred years, and not so much as a whisper of her.

Perhaps it wasn’t the mysterious female who meant nothing. Perhaps it was Mor herself.

Would she be disgusted to discover that the third in command of Night was utterly in thrall? Did it make her laugh when she pictured Mor pining away decade after decade? A single night- that was all they’d had. Why did it have to be more than that?

Well, it didn’t have to be, but that was what Mor wanted above all else.

Rhysand was taken Under the Mountain, and Mor forced herself to set aside the ghost of that cruel, divine female. She had to at least try to be stronger for the people of Velaris.

Fifty years passed, and now with Elain, Lucien, and Nesta in tow their expanded family descended on Rita’s for the Feast of Souls. Rhysand and Feyre were… otherwise engaged at home, but Mor was determined to have fun. It didn’t matter that she had felt that anxiety and pain again the moment Rhys returned from Under the Mountain- as if the female were somewhere close. It didn’t matter that the dark eyes of her lover were haunting her once again. She would have fun, and she would find a way to move on.

Tension hung over Mor, thick and nearly tangible. She felt a twisting guilt in her chest, as if she’d forgotten something. It was a feeling she’d had every Feast of Souls since that blessed and damnable encounter. She always thought ‘Maybe this time she’ll be there,’ and yet she never was.

Still… what if?

As Mor wrestled with the decision to stay on the dance floor or go home, Rita caught her eye, glanced at the door to the upstairs party, and nodded.

It was Rita’s mate who’d introduced her to the stranger. They both knew of Mor’s centuries-long quest for her identity.

Could that mean-

Mor didn’t care who saw her. She ran to the door and took the steps two at a time. Anyone who got in her way was moved with a hurried ‘sorry’ and a not-so-gentle shove. She almost knocked the doors off their hinges in her rush to enter and-

-and sitting at the table Mor had conducted her vigil from was a dark-skinned female in a black dress, her identity hidden behind a black veil and a gold-and-diamond mask that obscured everything beneath her obsidian eyes.

She gave no thought to who may see her unmasked face. Mor went straight to the female she’d loved and lost. Delicate, slender hands slid to her hips as Mor lifted the veil just far enough to seize the female’s mouth- a boundary she’d set on their only meeting. Her shattering kiss was as devastatingly perfect as the last they’d shared.

Mor didn’t even bother to excuse herself from her friends downstairs. Rita would tell them she’d left with someone. She winnowed the female across Velaris, straight into her apartment.

“Where have-“

The female put a finger on Mor’s lips to stop her as they both struggled for breath. They were trembling with need, but the female took a step back.

“I was scared for so long. I thought you would hate me if you knew. Every year I watched you look for me, and every year it killed me to stay away. After Under the Mountain, I refuse to be afraid.”

“Under the Mountain?” Mor paused- then it hit her in a wave of terror and ice. Only two females from Velaris went Under the Mountain- two females far, far too close to the Inner Circle, “Which one?”

There was no hesitation as the half-wraith removed her veil- the shield that gave her the courage to love Mor openly for just one night so many years ago. Her almond-shaped eyes and the crook in her left eyebrow- Mor knew instantly.

“Cerridwen.”

She stared at her for a long time- at Azriel’s spy who she’d loved with quiet ferocity for three long centuries. The female who’d wrecked all others for her, who’d vanished after a kiss that Mor could still feel on her lips even now.

A female who was something far greater than nothing… the one Mor had long since realized… was her mate.

“You didn’t give me a chance last time,” she whispered. “You didn’t wait for me to reply, so let me say it properly now.”

Mor stepped in close, erasing the gap between them. She cupped Cerridwen’s face in her hands and stroked her silken cheeks, just as she’d done after their first and only night together.

I love you Morrigan.

“I love you too.”

Cerridwen barely managed to stifle a sob as Mor grabbed her and drew her into a long, hard kiss. Her entire body was overwhelmed by lightning and fire- by the feeling of that golden female she’d loved so much for so long, it was hard to even breathe each time she was dismissed from her presence.

One of Mor’s hands slid around Cerridwen’s lower back while the other moved up her spline to gently hold the back of her neck. It took three hundred years to find Cerridwen again, she wasn’t about to let go.

Memory tended to distort with time, or so Mor believed. A pleasant memory becomes magical, the bad get worse. After her desperate search, a part of Mor had long since accepted that even if she did find the female, things couldn’t possibly be as perfect as she’d imagined.

She was wrong.

If anything, time had dulled the fantasy of Cerridwen’s lips against hers. Mor couldn’t taste enough of them. They were perfectly formed, and she could hardly stop herself as she sucked Cerridwen’s lower lip between hers, acutely aware of the other returning as much attention to her upper one.

The first brush of Cerridwen’s tongue between her lips elicited a soft, pleading moan. Both still had a barrier up- those same walls of uncertainty and fear that separated them for so long. With Mor’s arms tight around Cerridwen and the wraith’s stroking her hair, they were still two beings.

Separate. Individual. Apart.

So, Mor opened her mouth, and let Cerridwen’s tongue enter.

The taste of her lips had only been a shadow of the divine sweetness Mor found in her mouth. Her own tongue stroked and teased as Cerridwen returned her moans.

Slowly, almost on their own, Cerridwen’s hands moved from Mor’s hair to her back, her sides, her hips. A soft nudge- barely more than a shifting of the feet, adjusted their hips so that each female’s pelvis pressed against the other’s thigh. That pressure sent a shiver through Mor, but it was nowhere near enough.

She broke their kiss and opened her eyes to meet Cerridwen’s gaze. Their bodies were pressed against one another, with pesky clothing keeping them apart. A blush covered the wraith’s chest and cheeks. Her eyes were wide as she panted.

Cerridwen held still as Mor stepped back. Her dark eyes followed a golden hand as it rose to cup her cheek. She turned her gaze back to the shining female and nuzzled her palm, turning ever so slightly to lick at Mor’s thumb, then draw the tip in to lightly scrape with her teeth.

Mor’s eyes never left Cerridwen’s as she traced her thumb along those perfect lips. Once she’d circled back around, the wraith nipped at it once again. Mor slid the thumb in to her mouth to the first knuckle, then began to slowly pump it in and out as Cerridwen started sucking at the skin. She stroked the pad of Mor’s finger with her tongue slowly, showing her exactly what she planned to do between her legs later on.

Aching need was building in Mor and she whimpered at the heat of Cerridwen’s mouth. The apex of her thighs pulsed in time with her lover’s tongue.

Her thumb withdrew and she returned to Cerridwen’s embrace. She cupped her lover’s neck once more and trailed kisses along her jaw, earning a happy sigh. The shy desire in Cerridwen made Mor burn hotter, and she slid a hand down from neck to shoulder, drawing aside the strap of Cerridwen’s black dress. The wraith freed her arm from it entirely and with a kiss of cool air, her breast slipped free.

Red silk scraped across the too-sensitive flesh of her erect nipples as Mor pressed against her. The hand on Cerridwen’s shoulder slid down to the newly exposed flesh. Mor gently squeezed her breast, earning a sweet gasp.

Again, it was even more perfect than Mor remembered. A comfortable handful of warmth and impossibly soft skin that all pulled towards a mahogany nipple the perfect size for nibbling.

Mor swirled her thumb around the nipple before pinching it. Cerridwen’s next gasp was swallowed by Mor’s lips as she drew her once more into a deep, open kiss. Refusing to release Cerridwen’s breast, Mor stepped back and pulled her lover along.

Cerridwen smiled against her lips as Mor pulled her from the foyer to her bedroom. She broke the kiss only to draw some much-needed air. “I’ve had three hundred years to dream of how I would do this.”

“I’ve been dreaming of it far longer.” Cerridwen let or sit on the bed before lifting her skirts and moving to straddle Mor’s hips. She stroked her golden face and smiled at the way it seemed to glow against her darkness. Mor’s arms circled her waist, holding her secure. On a whim, she rested her cheek along the draped fabric of Cerridwen’s half-on dress, her nose gently pressing against the wraith’s breast.

“When Azriel brought Nuala and I to meet you all- the moment I saw you I was lost,” Cerridwen cradled Mor’s head, basking in the miracle that was at last in her arms. No fear, no shame, and no mask to conceal her identity, “I loved you quietly every second those years. Even Nuala noticed I’d lost myself to someone- not that she ever knew who. I went to Rita’s that night because she told me to find a female who could help me forget the other.”

“You always knew it was me beneath the mask, didn’t you? Before I even took it off?” There was pain in her voice, a deep, aching regret for every second they’d lost because of her fears.

“I did,” Cerridwen tipped Mor’s chin up until their eyes met, “and I don’t hold it against you. You looked for me, I was the one hiding. I saw how sad you were and I just- I was too scared of losing you to risk having you.”

“Feyre knows… what I am.” Mor’s arms tightened and she hid her face once more in Cerridwen’s chest, “If it is the only way to be with you, I’ll tell the others.” Her words were muffled, and Cerridwen’s heart cracked.

She returned to stroking Mor’s hair, comforting her, “Don’t you dare, not for me.”

“I would do anything for you,” Mor whispered, and she meant it. Three hundred years apart, and yet now, in Cerridwen’s arms, she knew she’d found home at last.

“Love me,” Cerridwen lifted her face and kissed Mor, “trust me, and hold me. But don’t reveal yourself for me. Do it for you, and only when you’re ready. My sexuality is the easiest part of me for people to understand, so I have never feared it or questioned how others would see me. I can’t imagine how hard it must be to reveal that precious side of yourself and I would never make it a condition of my love for you.”

Mor sobbed against her lips and salty tears mixed into their kiss. Cerridwen was a miracle she didn’t deserve. To the wraith, Mor was a blessing from the divine.

Cerridwen kissed away Mor’s tears, but the golden female needed her to know how much her words and actions meant. She seized Cerridwen’s mouth with hers and rolled to lay her on her back. She kept a hand on the wraith’s cheek as she shifted to straddle her leg and whipped blindly through the fabric of her skirts. Once she found a way in, her fingers reached for Cerridwen’s leg and followed it up towards something warm and swollen with need.

That was where the desperation eased somewhat. Cerridwen had foregone undergarments and Mor’s fingers traced the curve of her smooth entrance. Up and down her finger slid, never enough to part the folds, no matter how Cerridwen whimpered against her mouth or angled her knees out and away- opening herself.

When Mor’s finger parted her at last, it came away shining with moisture.

She continued her light tracing, only offering the tip of her finger- enough to tease the inside of her folds but not touch her entrance or touch her knot. Still, a drop of something slick and sweet soon rolled down her finger.

“Please,” Cerridwen gasped at last. Her hand grasped Mor’s elbow as if she could force her hand in deeper, but the other resisted.

She slid another finger through Cerridwen until it too was covered in her wetness. Despite her whispered pleas against Mor’s lips, she continued to tease her- all the while torturing herself.

“Take it off,” Mor said at long last, moving the skirts from beneath her knee. Cerridwen didn’t hesitate- she shifted her hips up- straight into Mor’s waiting knot. Mor gasped and ground against Cerridwen harder and harder, until she managed to pull her skirts out from under her and finally threw her dress off the bed.

Mor fell onto her aching breasts in an instant, and as she sucked one into her mouth she slowly pushed her fingers into Cerridwen. The wraith arched in an instant, pushing herself against Mor’s mouth with a wordless cry. Too long- it had been too long since she felt so whole and complete. She wanted to kiss Mor- to return as much of this incredible feeling as she’d been given.

While Mor focused her attentions on Cerridwen’s slit and breast, Cerridwen began to roll her hips up into the slow plunge of her fingers. Mor moaned and her own breath hitched as the leg beneath her shifted to rub against her knot through the fabric of her gown.

“Take it off,” Cerridwen threw Mor’s words back at her.

Mor was forced to withdraw from Cerridwen’s body, leaving her empty and hungrier than ever. She slipped a hand beneath Mor’s skirts as the golden female negotiated hidden ties- then those of the ruby corset beneath. Cerridwen had no love for undergarments, but Mor most certainly did. She felt silk lace and stroked the front of that- hard enough to encourage Mor to undress faster, but not hard enough to offer any reprieve.

The dress was, at last, flung aside, and with it her corset. Cerridwen slipped her hand down the front of those red silk panties and hooked two fingers into Mor. When the female bent down to kiss her, she dodged her lips with a smirk and immediately took one of Mor’s large breasts into her mouth.

Nothing existed beyond Cerridwen’s touch- nothing save the scent of her arousal. Mor pushed her cool fingers back into her lover and curled her thumb down to press- finally- against her knot. Cerridwen’s shout of pleasure was little more than a hum as she continued to bite and suck at Mor’s breasts. As sensitive as she was there- it was almost as good as rubbing her clit too.

Cerridwen had Mor’s breast to absorb her gasps and cries. Mor had nothing. She was shaking, whimpering with need and desire. A thick, wet sound came from both and only served to encourage the wave growing inside her. That lewd sound represented what she could do to Cerridwen- as much as the wraiths tortured cries. It also stood for what Cerridwen was capable of drawing from her.

Mor’s free hand pinched and squeezed Cerridwen’s breast as her fingers slowly began to pick up speed. Cerridwen’s hips began to rise as she released Mor’s breast and looked up at her- mouth frozen open. She exhaled low and slow, but the tension in her body gave it sound. Mor was almost lost, but she smiled at that sound.

Her other most treasured memory took on new significance- the way Cerridwen screamed her pleasure as it devastated her. For a quiet, secretive wraith she could make the most wonderful sounds.

At the same time, both females slid their fingers from one another. Cerridwen turned half onto her side and lifted her leg for Mor to grab. The other female ripped her panties in an effort to get them off faster, then shifted so that she was straddling Cerridwen’s open legs. She pressed her heat to her lover’s entrance, hugged the leg tight to her chest, and began to roll her hips in tight, focused circles. Within a few passes, her folds parted against Cerridwen, and the wraith’s against hers.

They cried in unison as their knots found one another and that glorious, wet noise filled the air once more. No female ever fit so completely against Mor, and Cerridwen never felt more powerful or powerless as she did beneath this one. Her pleasure slid back for a moment as she found their rhythm, but now it was rushing at her hard and fast.

It would be impossible to hold back the tidal wave.

As much as Mor loved Cerridwen’s screams, Cerridwen loved the flood unleashed by the other’s orgasm.

Mor’s gaze was drawn from Cerridwen’s at last and her circling focused exclusively on the swirling of their knots. She pressed down harder and harder as Cerridwen’s gasps turned to shuddering cries and her body tensed.

A squeak from Mor was the sign that the wave was upon her. That squeak sent Cerridwen over the edge.

Her back arched and two growing cries were torn from her lips before her jaw clenched and a scream ripped through her. Her entire body was hard and loose as Mor ground against her knot, made a far quieter shout, and was immobilized by blinding, glorious fire. The first splash of her against Cerridwen’s knot took the very breath from her lungs, and the wraith quickly reached down to pull her lips open wider.

She screamed again and took over for Mor, grinding their bodies together as another jet of Mor’s release hit hard against her quaking entrance. Mor fell to her side on the bed, but still she held Cerridwen’s leg, and the wraith didn’t stop moving until Mor’s body shuddered and she forced a hand between them, protecting her core.

Mor shivered and shook with the force of her climax. White spots danced before her eyes and she wasn’t entirely sure she could fight back the darkness that threatened to take her as she shielded herself from any more stimulation.

Only when that other tension left her did she let Cerridwen untangle their legs and crawl up the bed to kiss her.

“I love you,” Mor murmured, her body still shuddering with violent pulses of pleasure.

Cerridwen settled against Mor and held her- mound to mound and breast to breast. There was no denying they fit perfectly. She wanted to kiss her through the next ten minutes- until Mor had recovered enough for Cerridwen to wreck her again. But there was something she had to do-

“This time we can say it in the same century,” she whispered against Mor’s lips. “I love you too.”

#mor #morrigan #cerridwen #nuala and cerridwen #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #my writing #bonus chapter #the cabin by the lake #chapter 3

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lewigm-blog · 5 years

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Newsletter 1: And we’re off!

Published December 17, 2018

“For it is like a man going abroad, who called his servants and handed over his goods to them. And to one he gave five talents, to another two, and to the other one, each according to his particular ability, and then he went on his journey… For I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me…” (Matthew 25:14-46).

*Full reading here

http://www.usccb.org/bible/matthew/25

http://usccb.org/bible/readings/121017.cfm

Folks, I have officially arrived at my new home in Andahuaylillas, Peru! These past few weeks have been hectic with holiday preparations, intense academic work, and finding time for yourselves, but I hope that this email finds you well. First off, I hope that these monthly newsletters becomes a way for all of you who have accompanied me these past few years to follow along in my journey in Peru. All of you have played an integral role in my formation and I hope that this serves as a means for you all to hear more about where I am in this journey! This will be a literary project for myself and I hope to maintain it on a monthly basis. With that being said, any input, comments or suggestions are more than welcome! Also please share with me any interesting articles and readings that you come across because I need to stay sharp! Also if any there is another email you would like me to use, please share that with me.

This month, I would like to use the theme of Jesus’ Parable of the Talents and the Sheep and the Goats in Matthew 25:14-46 to organize some of my thoughts for this letter. Please read the verses carefully in order to help orient you and provide context. As many of you know, I have been meeting with many friends and family members these past few months and sharing a bit about why you matter to me. While attempting to connect this time to an overarching theme, I found that the Parable of the Talents and the Judgement of Nations’ story seems most relevant. I am using this passage because all of you have had some role in refining and developing my “talents” and “feeding me when I was hungry” (both literally speaking and figuratively, but more so literally with guest swipes and dinners). Many of you have helped me work through problems with conversation, helpful guidance or by simply offering up your active presence, which have in turn helped me to grow and mature. These are the moments in which you have met me at a most appropriate time helping me discern what exactly it was that I “hungered” for. Perhaps even more importantly, some of you have helped me to distinguish that hunger and passion I had from mere “appetite” in order to refine my palate so to speak. Through our relationship, I have been able to seek out those talents that have been stowed away, focus on the gifts that I had left undeveloped and improve my awareness of the temptations that can have them grow faint and distant. After careful reflection and suggestion on your end, I am entering into this volunteer experience confident and aware that I am exactly where need to be. This of course was not due to a few interactions and commentaries, but rather a collection of moments of the Spirit constantly working through us together! For that I am grateful for you all!

There are three specific moments leading up to my departure in which I have found the grace of the Spirit to be alive and true with regards to these passages; the first being my interactions with an Uber driver Hector and with the Avianca worker who allowed me to somehow board the plane with all of this (See the google photos album for the luggage picture). The significance of my departure date being the Feast of the Immaculate Conception is another example as well. Lastly, I will share with you my experience at “La Misa” this past Monday.

Reaffirmed and helped by strangers: My encounter with Hector in Jersey City was a brief one, but one of great importance. While on a family visit with my girlfriend, Cat, we began discussing the nature of our visit with our Uber driver. After sharing that we were both planning on serving two years in Peru, he surprised us by telling us that he did a 31 month stretch in Peru himself! We were shocked to say the least and did not want that ride to end because we began probing him about his experience and any other wisdom he had to share. It was a very interesting experience given that Cat was preparing to leave for Peru the following Friday, and he shared with us that this experience would, as they say in the Jesuit Volunteer Corps, ruin us for life (or dare us to change for the kosher JVC friends out there). This moment of shared camaraderie and experience abroad helped reaffirm my decision to come to Perú, as it did for Cat.

What I believe was perhaps divine intervention was my encounter with a woman who worked for Avianca. Now, I know that typically stories involving airlines don’t usually have a lighthearted and good ending, but this was a different case. Just hours before my flight, I had to nervously repack and structure all of my luggage because I was apparently overweight. I had to figure out what I truly needed from what I had just wanted to bring. One of those items was a guitar that was gifted to me for my trip. I questioned whether it would be considered an extra personal item or an expensive checked bag, if it would be left behind, or even worse, taken by airport customs and security. I had just about come to terms with everything regarding my trip except the packing and organizing of all my belongings for this two-year experience. I had decided to simply put on all my extra clothes that I needed on my persons and go for it. This is what I look like with 5 pairs of pants and 4 jackets looks like. (Refer to the Google Photos Album)

Once we got into the airport, I waited tediously and uncomfortably in the never-ending lines. At the Avianca check-in center, I wondered was if all my training in sneaking food and drinks into the Cinnemark movie theater would translate well at the John F. Kennedy Airport. After allowing me to take a few extra pounds over free of charge, I had simply walked away with my guitar as if I had done it a thousand times before. BUT my conscious and anxiety thinking about the worst-case scenarios crept up on me. I felt that I had done something wrong and so I (perhaps foolishly) went back to the woman and asked her if the guitar was enough of a personal item… and she said promptly said yes and hurried me off! I felt an amazing sense of comfort in her human response and I felt that she recognized that if she was in my shoes, perhaps she would’ve wanted to hear the same thing. She may have also just been overwhelmed at work as it was and thought it would be too much of a hassle to process everything again, but I’ll stick to my original narrative and believe in humanity for a change!

Both encounters were moments of grace that left me wondering exactly why those two people helped me out. I felt that perhaps was another sign telling me “Keep going on, there’s much more for you to be focused on!” At any rate, I am grateful for the kindness shared by both people.

Feast Days: Although I don’t keep a close eye on the Liturgical calendar, a few of you mentioned that December 8th was the Feast of the Immaculate Conception. I found it quite interesting that my departure fell on this day because it gave me insight into how my mother must have been feeling from the day that I told her that I was to become a volunteer.

It isn’t the easiest thing to hear that your eldest son, a first-generation Salvadoran American, is deciding to take two years voluntarily to serve the poor further south than one’s native country of El Salvador. I’m sure that Mary wasn’t exactly sure what to think when God came to her and Joseph telling them “Yes, you will have a child and He will be the Savior of mankind!” In fact, I am almost certain that this is exactly the opposite thing you would want to tell any new parents, let alone recently immigrated parents. But my mother has only shown me the unconditional love she has always had for me and supported my decision, knowing well that this might mean infrequent communication and the uncertainty that comes with letting any child leave the nest over 3,000 miles away. I have been truly blessed with my mother and with all the opportunities she sacrificed so much of herself for, but I know that my mom has faith that this will all turn out well for me so long as I call her every so often and remind her of the Jose Saramago quote that has helped her through this experience (Pictured with translation in the Google Photos Album)

La Misa: Finally, we reach the “La Misa” or The Monday Mass moment. This was my final “sign” in reaffirming my decision to join the Jesuit Volunteer Corps. To provide some context, La Misa is a weekly tradition that the volunteers in Andahuaylillas and a number of Parish and Fe y Alegria workers come together to share a meal and have an intimate mass in someone’s home. It is a longstanding tradition to have mass inside homes when physical spaces of worship such as churches or temples are limited. Padre Gonzalo, our in-country coordinator, shared a beautiful homily at the Jesuit residence in Urcos about the December 10th readings. He focused on our ability to recognize our limitedness as humans to be self-fulfilling and whole and ask God for help. Currently in Andahuaylillas there is a two-week long drought that has left many farmers and workers out of money and food. Each evening at around 6 o’clock, there is a rogativo walk through the streets of Anda in which families and children pray and cry out for rain. It is a truly moving experience to witness how the people here express their faith in times of hardship. Another moving reading that week was in Mark’s gospel reading (Mk 1:1-8) as an image of an austere and simply dressed John the Baptist is shared. He says,

"One mightier than I is coming after me. I am not worthy to stoop and loosen the thongs of his sandals. I have baptized you with water; he will baptize you with the Holy Spirit."

This reading and imagery connected with me on a few levels. First, is John the Baptist and his task at hand. He recognizes the goodness in obeying God’s will and mission for him but understands that he isn’t the ONE who will make the greatest impact on the world. For him, it is Jesus who will do that, and I feel that I can relate. I could say that I am in Peru to change the lives of many here in Andahuaylillas, but that isn’t necessarily true, or even a task that I should place on solely myself. I must trust that goodness will come out of the faith of people themselves and allow myself to accept that this change will not happen by my own hands, but on the good will and faith of God and the Spirit working through me. I can try to change people all I want, but if they are not ready and open to that, then I can only hope that one day it will happen.

The second note is the physical appearance of John the Baptist. Being that we have in our four JVC values, the pillar of simple living, I thought it was interesting that John the Baptist only wore and ate what was necessary for his mission. Although I tried very hard to bring as much as I thought was needed, I recognize the importance of this approach to mission. I had to have a bit more faith that I need not worry too much about clothing, food and water as much as I thought, but have faith that with some preparation, I will have what is needed for my journey here.

In many ways I see this will and call to ask for God’s grace and guidance for these next two years in my own life as I see it in others. God is always asking of us to call out to him and seek forgiveness, love and orientation in our lives. I believe that my desire and thirst for this wisdom and vocation into service and faith has been quenched by His love and Spirit working through each and every one of you. You ALL have so many gifts to offer others and you willingly share that in the ways you have been there for me and live your lives. I only hope that I can model that for others here and have the humility to learn that from the Peruanos here as well; To recognize those that hunger and thirst for more, to hone my talents, both hidden and apparent, for the greater glory of God.

Peace,

Luis

GOOGLE PHOTOS LINK https://photos.app.goo.gl/WSb9vEEBo64FPw3k7

#amdg #Peru #JVC

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imitranslates · 5 years

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Fukigen na Mononokean Ch. 64

I actually had some free time to sit down with the chapter today, so I’m on time, after all! Looks like Abeno and Ashiya might finally have a lead on Aoi by helping Zenko with her spirit photo problem.

Please remember to check out the official English release when it comes out, preferably on Crunchyroll if you’re able to!

The newest chapter can be read on the official website by clicking the yellow button labeled 読む!

Fukigen na Mononokean Chapter 64 - In The Blink of An Eye

Page 4

Ashiya: I thought you'd be here when I saw you weren't in the room...

Ashiya: (I've found him lying in the entryway multiple times since yesterday...

I wonder why...?)

Ashiya: !

Ashiya: ...

Ah...

Page 5

Ashiya: You’re waiting for Abeno-san to come back, huh...

Ashiya: Unfortunately,

Ashiya: You're jumping the gun a little.

[Abeno-san still has two days left to his stay in the Underworld.]

Page 6

[Two days later...]

Ashiya: Welcome...

Home!

(Fusshi: Abenon, Abenon!)

(Saga: Welcome home?)

Ashiya: (Abeno-san also jumped the gun and came back early! (Fuzzy! Abeno-san's here!))

Page 7

Abeno: Report...

Abeno: The princess's condition is quite well... The strength of her divine protection has increased, so they've determined the threat of plague plants and host insects invading the Underworld to be low.

...The very moment that happened, the Legislator said "Let's have a feast!" like he always does, and wanted me to stay for dinner, so I retreated...

That's it.

Ashiya: Good work completing your mission! Everything's been peaceful in the Mundane world since I came back!

Ashiya: (The Underworld must be fine, too, if Abeno-san's back. Today's a good day!)

Page 8

Abeno: And?

Abeno: Where's that spirit photo you wanted to show me?

Ashiya: Ngh!

Zenko: Here...

Abeno: Mm...

(Trying not to look...)

Zenko: This was delivered to the temple with a request to soothe the spirit.

Ashiya: Do you get these a lot? (Spirit photos...)

Zenko: Occasionally.

Zenko: Dad's too scared to look so me and Mom examine them for him.

(Zenko's Papa: How creepy...)

(Zenko: Let me look.)

Page 9

Zenko: According to the enclosed letter, the photograph was taken at least twenty years ago.

Ashiya: Really...

Zenko: Apparently, the son lost his father in an unexpected accident when he was young.

They seem to think the phenomenon in this mother-son photo started because his father wasn't able to find peace, so they sent it to our place.

Page 10

Abeno: ....!

Ashiya: Eep!?

Ashiya: Abeno-san, you're so used to freaky things, but there's something there that scares even you...?

Abeno: ...No, it's nothing...

Ashiya: ?

Zenko: There's nothing particularly unusual shown, though...

Zenko: The weird thing is that something "disappears" while you're staring at it.

Page 11

Ashiya: If... If I stare at it, it'll disappear....?

Ashiya: ...

Ashiya: Nothing's gone?

Zenko: Right?

Zenko: They wrote that in the letter, so I looked hard at it, but

I couldn't verify it.

Zenko: That kind of thing isn't exactly rare, though. There are people who mistake a reflected shadow for a ghost and send it to us.

Zenko: Still, the least we can do is perform a ceremony for them. I was supposed to give the photo over to my dad to burn in a ceremonial bonfire,

But...

Page 12

Yahiko: Hey... Are you going to burn this?

Zenko: We'll be burning it as part of the ceremony.

Yahiko: Hmmm....

Yahiko: ...

Yahiko: Before you burn it, you should show it to Haruitsuki.

Zenko: To Abeno?

Yahiko: Yeah.

If he sees it, he'll definitely...

Page 13

Zenko: "He'll definitely be surprised," he said.

Ashiya: Surprised...

Ashiya: Is that what it was?

Abeno: ......

Zenko: Yahiko also said that,

I should consult with Abeno if I want to know whether the phenomenon in the picture is related to a demon.

Page 14

Abeno: ...Zenko.

Abeno: Is it okay if I hold onto this?

Abeno: I want to investigate what it has to do with demons.

Zenko: Yeah. (Go ahead.)

Page 15

(Zenko: Lunch was delicious.)

(Zenko: I have P.E. next, so I'll go back first.)

Ashiya: Hmmm...

Even though I'm staring this hard at it, nothing's disappearing...

Ashiya: If the supernatural phenomenon really happened like the person who sent the letter said,

Is it because of a demon...? What will we do if it's a ghost?

Abeno: ...

Abeno: ...At the very least, it's not entirely unrelated to demons.

Ashiya: ...What makes you say that?

Page 16

Abeno: There's a large black cat in the child's arms, right?

Abeno: That's... Aoi.

Ashiya: Ah...

Page 17

Ashiya: This cat is...!!

(The previous owner of the Mononokean... Aoi-san?!)

Page 18

Abeno: The first time I saw it, I thought it was just a coincidental resemblance, but...

Passing this onto me is probably Yahiko's way of saying that it's Aoi.

Abeno: So... It's likely the real thing.

Abeno: If they went to this place, it must have been because of something involving a demon.

Abeno: I think it's worth checking out the location.

Ashiya: (The location...)

Page 19

Ashiya: The sender's address... An apartment and room number are written here, right?

Abeno: Ah?

Ashiya: The building shown in the picture is a detached house, so they probably moved...

Abeno: There's a way to find out.

Abeno: There should be a record in the old reports if Aoi went there for work.

We can determine the location from them, provided we find some clues in the letter and the picture.

(Abeno: Hairball... Calm down already.)

Page 20

Ashiya: (The lunch bell...)

Abeno: (Haa...) No way around it... I should go...

Ashiya: Yeah! (Next is math class...)

Abeno: I'm going to go search through the reports at the Legislator's place...

Ashiya: (Eh!?) You're going to the Underworld?!

Abeno: Mononokean, come!

Ashiya: Wait a second?! When are you coming back?! Abeno-saan!!

Page 21

Mononokean: Opening a door to...

Page 22

Abeno: This is the place.

Ashiya: (I can sense a demon...!)

Ashiya: (But...)

Abeno: The building isn't here anymore, huh...

Page 23

Ashiya: Ah... Fuzzy! Don't go off on your own!

(Ashiya: Fuzzy!)

Abeno: !?

(Ashiya: Fuzzy! Heey!!)

Page 24

Abeno: (It's disappearing...!)

Ashiya: !?

Ashiya: Abeno-san... Up there...

Abeno: !

Page 25

Ashiya: A...

Demon...?

Page 26

Ashiya: Huh? Is this building the one in the photo...?!

(Abeno: It vanished.)

Abeno: So the photo's odd behavior was just a precursor to this building appearing...

Ashiya: A demon's aura is coming from the building!

The culprit behind the supernatural phenomenon must be in there...!

Ashiya: Ngh?!

Abeno: Huh?

Page 27

(Ashiya: Why are you there!?)

Ashiya: Fuzzyyy!!! Get down from there!!

Page 28

Ashiya: Alright! Alright!

Ashiya: Alri...

Ashiya: -ight?

Abeno: !

Ashiya: Uwahhh?!

Ashiya: (I'm floating?! Zero gravity!?)

Page 29

Ashiya: (...And it's due to that black hole!?)

Ashiya: (Gyaaaaah?!) It's sucking us iiin!?

Abeno: Isn't it saying "come on in"?

Ashiya: Shouldn't you be a little more flustered!? (You're too calm!!)

(Ashiya: Gyaaaaaaah!!)

Page 31

Ashiya: Ow, owww...

Fuzzy... Abeno-san... Are you guys okay?

Abeno: Yeah... It's so dark I can't see what's around me.

Ashiya: Are we in outer space?

Abeno: ...What? There's something over here... (sfx: Fluff)

Hairball?

Ashiya: ...Um...

...Abeno-san, you're petting my hair.

sfx: Whack!

Ashiya: OW!

Abeno: !?

Ashiya: Uwah! It's so bright!

Page 32

Ashiya: This is... an entryway?

Abeno: Seems so...

It doesn't look like they're going to greet us after inviting us in...

(Ashiya: Fuzzy, are you okay?)

Abeno: !

Page 33

Abeno: !?

Abeno: (It locked?!)

(Is someone on the other side of the door?)

Abeno: ...

(...But they had to be inside to turn on the light, right?

Does this building have multiple demons living in it?)

(If so, what's their reason for hiding themselves from us?)

(Are they curious about our appearance here?)

(Or...)

(Do they... not have a body...?)

Ashiya: ...

Ashiya: I'm going to get angry in a second, you know?

Page 34

Abeno: Wha?

Ashiya: Are you enjoying the feel of your Ashiya seat cushion!?

Please get off me!!

(Abeno: A seat cushion demon...)

Abeno: Hey... Someone locked the front door.

Ashiya: Huh?!

Ashiya: D... Did you see them?

Abeno: I couldn't see their form, but they were definitely there.

Abeno: I wonder if they'll reveal themselves.

Ashiya: Sorry for intruding!! We're exorcists from the Mononokean!!

Page 35

Abeno: !?

Page 36

Ashiya: A...

Abeno-san...

Ashiya: There's someone...

Ashiya: There!!

#fukigen na mononokean #fukigen na mononokean translation #The Morose Mononokean #fukigen na mononokean chapter 64 #fukigen na mononokean 64 #manga translation

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pamphletstoinspire · 5 years

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"They Have No Wine"

In her Diary, St. Faustina recorded the details of a vision she had of Our Blessed Lady and the Child Jesus at the Shrine of Ostra Brama in Vilnius, Lithuania on November 15, 1935.

Extract from the Diary about this vision:

“On the evening of the last day of the Novena at Ostra Brama, after the singing of the litany, one of the priests exposed the Blessed Sacrament in the monstrance. When he placed it on the altar, I immediately saw the Infant Jesus, stretching out His little arms, first of all toward His Mother, who at that time had taken on a living appearance. When the Mother of God was speaking to me, Jesus stretched out His tiny hands toward the congregation. The Blessed Mother was telling me to accept all that God asked of me like a little child, without questioning; otherwise it would not be pleasing to God. At that moment, the Infant Jesus vanished, and the Mother of God was again lifeless, and her picture was the same as it had been before”. (Diary 529)

When the vision ended, the young nun said to the Lord, "Do with me as You please; I am ready for everything, but You, O Lord, must not abandon me even for a moment" (Diary 529).

Wedding Feast of Cana

This vision of St. Faustina reminds us of the moment between Mary and Jesus at the wedding feast in Cana when Mary says, “They have no wine”. The reaction of Our Blessed Lord takes us by surprise when He says, "Why do you involve me? My hour has not yet come." (John 2:4) The Gospel tells us she simply went to the servants and said, "Do whatever He tells you". This is exactly what she told St. Faustina in the vision in 1935.

The Love of Our Lady

This story shows the sensitivity and strength of Our Lady and her love and compassion for people. It would have been deeply humiliating for the married couple and their families to run out of wine. She did not demand, but she knew He wouldn’t say ‘no’, not out of fear, but out of love. It also shows her faith that she knew that nothing was impossible to Him. (Like any good mother, she just suggested!) It is as if she is saying, "I trust in you". Her whole life was one of openness to God's activity. Mary is the woman who always said “yes” to God. For Mary, prayer is not telling God what to do but an attitude of loving trust in His goodness.

She wants us to trust in her son

Mary wants us all to know that this is the true nature of the heart of her Son. She knows that it’s only when we meet Him and learn to trust in Him that great things can happen in our lives. No matter what is going on, what disasters may be threatening us or what fears we may hold, we can turn to her and she will intercede for us with Him. Of course, Our Lady would never take advantage Him, but I am certain, that if Our Lady sees a need in our life, she will ask Jesus to help, even if requires a profound miracle.

Out of sync with God’s Plans

The miracle of the wedding feast of Cana was an act of love and mercy. But it was out of sync with God’s plans. Jesus was concerned about this, otherwise He would not have said, “My hour has not yet come”. But it just goes to show the depth of God’s love, that He was willing to change His plans to help this couple with something as insignificant as extra wine at a wedding.

Beginning of His Mission

Once Jesus preformed this miracle, He began His works of mercy and they would not stop until the greatest work of mercy, His Passion on the Cross. At the foot of the Cross, she will be with Him again. But this time, He has a request for her and she will not refuse Him either.

We can trust Him

There is no better way of getting to know her Son than by trusting in Him. We can trust Him because He is mercy. When His mercy touches our lives, and at times our very troubled lives, He can transform them beyond all recognition. He turns our water into His wine.

Dirty Water Jars

We must remember that the water-jars held water that was used by the Jews for cleaning the dust off their hands and feet. No one would ever think of drinking from them. It is symbolic of His mercy as He transforms a situation of grime and dirt into the celebration of His goodness and generosity.

So, it is for us, when we do as Mary tells us, and meet Him in our trust. He can transform situations which we may be ashamed of, despairing of but with the touch of His presence make them into celebrations of His wonderful goodness and generosity. Only He can do such a wonderful thing and Mary knows this.

He will not let us down

We are the servants at the wedding feast in Cana. When Our Lady tells us “Do whatever He tells you”, we must trust that He will not let us down. In the Devotion to Divine Mercy, Jesus has asked us to pray the Chaplet of Divine Mercy to help Him to save souls, so we must do what He tells us and He will wash clean the souls of countless sinners and change them into holy, joy-filled people.

by Fr. John Harris

From: www.pamphletstoinspire.com

#they have no wine

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rajeshshrimali · 2 years

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Astrooger In Indore | Rajesh Shrimali

Best Astrologer In Jodhpur is a meme, and it’s spreading in that blooming, extending way that memes do. On social media, astrologers and divination-meme machines amass knockouts or hundreds of thousands of followers, people joke about Mercury retrograde, and classify “ the signs as.” literally anything cat types, Oscar Wilde quotes, Foreigner Effects characters, types of french feasts. In online publications, daily, daily, and yearly horoscopes and wheel-themed listicles flourish.

This is n’t the first moment Best Astrologer In Indore had and it wo n’t be the last. The practice has been around in colorful forms for thousands of times. More lately, the New Age movement of the 1960s and ’70s came with a heaping helping of the wheel. (Some also relate to the New Age as the “ Age of Aquarius' ' — the- time period after the Earth is said to move into the Aquarius sign.)

In the decades between the New Age smash and now, while divination clearly did n’t go down — you could still regularly find horoscopes in the aft runners of magazines — it “ went back to being a little bit more in the background,” says Chani Nicholas, an prophesier grounded in Los Angeles. “ Also there's a commodity that’s happened in the last five times that’s given it jitteriness, an applicability for this time and place, that it has n’t had for a good 35 times. Millennials have taken it and run with it.”

Numerous people I spoke to for this piece said they had a sense that the smirch attached to divination, while it still exists, had retreated as the practice has seized a base in online culture, especially for youthful people.

“ Over the once two times, we ’ve really seen a reframing of New Age practices, veritably much geared toward a Millennial and youthful Gen X quotient,” says Lucie Greene, the worldwide director ofJ. Walter Thompson’s Intelligence Group, which tracks and predicts artistic trends.

Callie Beusman, a elderly editor at Astronomically, says business for the point’s horoscopes “ has grown really exponentially.” Stella Bugbee, the chairman and editor-in- chief of The Cut, says a typical horoscope post on the point got 150 percent more business in 2017 than the time before.

In some ways, divination is impeccably suited for the internet age. There’s a low hedge to entry, and nearly endless depths to raise if you feel like falling down a Google- exploration hole. The vacuum of further in- depth information online has given this artistic surge of divination a certain education — further jokes about Saturn returns, smaller “ Hey baby, what’s your sign?” volley lines.

A quick manual Divination isn't wisdom; there’s no substantiation that one’s wheel sign actually correlates to personality. But the system has its own kind of sense. Divination ascribes meaning to the placement of the sun, the moon, and the globes within 12 sections of the sky — the signs of the wheel. You probably know your sun sign, the most notorious wheel sign, indeed if you ’re not a divination buff. It’s grounded on where the sun was on your birthday. But the placement of the moon and each of the other globes at the time and position of your birth adds fresh tones to the picture of you painted by your “ birth map.”

#Best Astrologer In Indore #Best Astrologer In Jodhpur

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whoreforpunz · 3 years

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kiss it off me - chapter two

❦ ❧ ❦

dreamnap

❦ ❧ ❦

The deeply self deprecating part of Sapnap's subconscious had thrived over the past few days. Ever since Dream left their date early without much of an explanation. He understood that he was probably telling the truth but at the same time, he couldn't help but feel like he'd done something wrong. Something to prompt him to leave.

Maybe he wasn't pretty enough. Or old enough. It didn't bother him that Dream was a couple years his senior. But he probably didn't have enough experience for the other man. It had been stupid and incredibly naïve of him to just assume someone like him would even consider a broke college student with a cripplingly low self esteem.

He became well acquainted with the silver mirror that sat on the wall behind his desk. Cold, cold,cold. There was no hiding from it, all knowing and truthful. Sapnap was both weirdly fascinated and repulsed by it. Specifically his reflection. Not in an egotistical way but he looked so small and frightened before the mirror. Reduced to a startling image of what he felt like inside. Nothing more than a trembling figure who couldn't even meet his own gaze.

Sometimes he could spend hours criticising every little detail and flaw he could spot and with time he just uncovered more and more things that he despised about himself. The way that the skin beside his eyes crinkled whenever he wasn't frowning, his smile. It was no wonder Dream didn't want him. And that was just his face.

Every time he sat down, little rolls and pudgy skin that he kept trying to lose stuck out. He often felt the hydrochloric acid from his stomach slowly rise up his throat in an attempt to vomit because he merely glanced at his body.

If the prettiest of mirror images revealed the beauty of the soul, surely they could encapsulate the inner demons of the soul as well. That would explain why on a better day things were pastel pinks and soft yellows but on rough days which were more frequent recently everything would be grey and bleak.

On the day of his date with Dream, everything had been red. Unusual and ambiguous with a hint of hope. Just thinking about their short time together caused goosebumps to race up and down his spine and made him feel like a giddy teenager.

But he couldn't let himself run off with false hope like that. Dream didn't like him. He get bored or maybe was never fully interested just like those who came before him. Sapnap was just something to toy with for amusement and then they all left with no trace before commitment. It had never stopped him from getting attached way too easily though. Even his older brother had pointed it out to him before and he was usually oblivious when it came to that kind of stuff.

No matter how badly he wanted to repeat the date with Dream, his head triumphed over his heart. There was a reason he left and he needed to remember that. He left because of him.

Seriously who uses the my friend is having an emergency and genuinely means it. In the vast majority of cases it's the simplest way to escape from an awful date that isn't going well or one that just is boring you to death. He'd feel awful if something had actually happened with Dream's friend but it really seemed like he'd gotten fed up of dealing with Sapnap. It's not like he wasn't used to it though.

Eventually he forced himself out of the pile of blankets that had accumulated on his bed and stepped over the empty tub of ice cream he'd abandoned on the floor beside his bed since he'd lacked the energy to do it the night prior. Sapnap somehow managed not to sleep a wink and spent the entire night just tossing and turning restlessly. So he felt like complete and utter shit but he hadn't showered yet and desperately hoped that would make him feel better and fix things.

While he avoided eye contact with the mirror in his bedroom, there was no escaping it in the confined space of his bathroom. He visibly winced at his reflection in the clear surface. Thankfully he didn't have to be anywhere today or see anybody because he looked horrific and that was the nicest way he could phrase it. His hair was in a state of disarray but not the cute kind, and the bags under his eyes were alarmingly purple. He was freakishly pale as well for some reason and the basically transparent skin freaked him out.

No way would anyone, especially Dream, be attracted to someone that looked like this. So he needed to silence the delusional part off his heart that was still longing for things to work out, the man was miles out of his league meanwhile Sapnap was just a mess.

Turning his back to the mirror so he wasn't confronted with the sight of his naked torso, Sapnap

stripped himself of his clothes, hoping that a shower would make him feel slightly less crappy and utterly worthless. And if not - well at least the sound of his choked sobs would be drowned out by the force of the water.

Sapnap stepped forward into the cramped shower and stood underneath the showerhead. Twisting the knob to the right a little and then pressing the button unleashing the warm water which began to rush all over his exhausted body. Running a hand through his short hair, he dampened the brunette tresses slowly before reaching to grab the bottle of shampoo sat in the indent of the walk which functioned as a shelf.

The hot air being released because of the warm water was overwhelming almost suffocating. But at least he didn't feel as gross anymore. Extreme and conflicting emotions in a seemingly never ending battle to decide whose turn it is to torture him next.

They taunted him, fed his cruel,cruel subconscious and whispered the things he knew deep down but didn't want to admit to himself.

Tears streamed down his cheeks but it was difficult to decipher how badly he was crying due to the water flowing as well. Droplets fell down his soft skin in such a similar fashion that he didn't know which was which. Judging by the stiff feeling creeping up his throat and the difficulty to breathe though, he'd be safe to guess that it was probably bad. Honestly he was pathetic. Crying over a man he'd barely met ditching him.

Even after getting abandoned and replaced multiple times it still stung and the demons that plagued him feasted on the fresh material and food for his insecurities. He tried to repress those thoughts as much as possible but today that seemed to be unlikely. There was no chance he was getting over Dream that fast

Taking a dollop of shampoo in his hand the young man allowed himself to inhale the comforting scent of orange blossom and coconut. The sea had always been a place of comfort to him which was why he sought a job as a lifeguard during the summer at the beach and his shampoo reminded him of the wild flowers that grew among the shrubbery bordering the golden sand and cerulean waters.

Sapnap began to work his fingers through his hair after rubbing the substance between his hands first, letting each strand of brunette hair become coated with the divine smell. Dragging it through all of his hair, spreading the lather. Tilting his head back, he let the suds fall down his back and into the drain.

He stepped away from the ongoing stream of water to grab some conditioner and poured a decent sized dollop of that too, dancing his fingers through the wet strands of hair once more. Once that was done he rinsed off his fingers and his hair before running soap up and down every little dip and bend of his body until he didn't feel as gross.

Stopping the water, he grabbed a towel and ruffled his hair with it, stopping all the drops that would trail their way down his spine and fall onto his shoulders. After removing the now damp black cloth from his hair, Sapnap caught a glimpse of himself, hair a darker shade than normal - closer to black than his typical light brown and it was way messier than normal, some little strands sticking out, others curling onto his forehead.

At least he felt somewhat better. Well he hoped that he genuinely felt better and that he wasn't just falsely convincing himself of it.

Just when Sapnap thought his day couldn't become worse, he got an email from his professor announcing the date of their final. It was his least favourite class and it was set two weeks away. So he was screwed. The coursework wasn't particularly challenging but the sheer amount he had to learn for that class alone was overwhelming and it wasn't the kind that he could just glance at and bullshit on the day of the exam. This one required constant study and practice.

He ran a hand through his already messy hair and ruffled the brunette locks slowly in frustration. Even though he'd learnt all the content before, balancing it with a load of other exams and his situation with Dream, keeping his mind focused on the book in front of him when all he could picture was Dream's captivating green eyes.

Sapnap spent the next few hours hunched over his desk, attempting to find the notes he needed to attempt to write this essay for practice. Yet still his thoughts drifted to everything he could have done wrong the night prior instead of the psychology behind early learning. Had he stared too long at him? Was the joke taken the wrong way? Was he too boring for Dream? The man was older and probably looking for someone with more experience and stability than a guy he believed to be straight out of college.

He'd told a white lie when Dream has asked what he did for work. Since Sapnap had been so nervous, in a moment of panic and desire to impress him he'd lied and said he'd just graduated with a computer science degree. Most people were surprised that he majored in education and the majority of people in his class had been girls. Not many people held his course in high esteem or regarded it as intelligent but he'd been so intimidated by Dream's answer that he claimed to have studied it as well. Desperately hoping his one year of knowledge from the computer science elective he'd taken in freshman year would be enough to carry a conversation with Dream if he ever brought it up again.

A loud creak which meant that somebody had entered his room, causing the exhausted man to raise an eyebrow. He lived alone and in a different state to his parents. Then it dawned on him like a soft summer sunrise who it had to be. The only person in the city who had a key to his apartment was his older brother. His friends Karl and Quackity didn't come over that often since they lived together and their place was bigger than his so it was normally him visiting them.

Stumbling in the door, bursting with energy and dashing towards him at his desk was his nephew Purpled. Following him closely was Punz and his wife who he'd only recently married. They'd been together since before the little bundle of teasing sunshine currently sat in his lap had been born but the two of them hadn't tied the knot until six months ago.

"Hey Purp," he chuckled at the younger boy's enthusiasm to see him.

"Uncle Sappy!" Purpled beamed up at him.

No matter how many times his nephew was told his nickname, Purpled had refused to call him that when he was learning to talk and had come up with his own nickname that had stuck. Sapnap never had the heart to correct him or try to change it despite the amount Punz teased him.

"How are you little man?" He asked.

"I'm not little," Purpled grunted "you're little."

Sapnap saw the opportunity to get in a jab directed towards his older brother, even if he wasn't true "we can agree that your dad's tiny though right Purp."

He didn't know how Purpled didn't get whisplash from the strength and speed of him nodding "the tiniest."

“I’m literally taller than you both combined shut up,” Punz rolled his eyes, joining the conversation as he reached the two.

“Sounds like something a short person would say,” Sapnap teased lightly.

Barely holding back a laugh at his brother’s retort Punz replied “that doesn’t even make sense Sap.”

“Ehh..doesn’t change anything.” He shrugged playfully “you’re still my tiny little Punzie Poo.”

Punz groaned at the nickname “oh my god you’re worse than Boomer and Red.”

Sapnap let out a gasp, tone dripping in faux offence “I can’t believe you’d say that - hang on let me crank up the juicewrld real quick.”

Shaking his head fondly, Punz pulled his younger brother in to his chest and gave him a tight hug. Sapnap let himself melt into the comfort it provided. They weren’t exactly the most physically affectionate of siblings but his older brother could always sense when he desperately needed one and didn’t tease him about it.

“I missed you Sap,” Punz mumbled “sorry it’s been a while.”

‘S fine dude,” Sapnap dismissed it immediately “you’re busy with a wife and kid I get it”

“Are you guys done?” Purpled asked sounding thoroughly unimpressed with the lack of attention he was receiving and then he turned around “mom can you get them to stop I want to have the cake now.”

Cardi, Punz’s wife laughed at their son’s impatientness. She was average height - similar to himself with shoulder length hair. Her eyes were a mirror image of Purpled’s though and sometimes it freaked him out how startling similar they were. That paired with the fact that he literally acted exactly like both himself and Punz when they were younger was bizarre to watch. “Let’s get it set up Purp, we’ll leave uncle Sap to talk to your dad for a minute.”

Shooting her a grateful look as she grasped Purpled’s hand and led him out of the room, Punz perched himself against the edge of his desk. There was a moment of deep silence between the two. Neither of them being the best with emotions and not wanting to be the one to open up the conversation and let their stone barriers down. But Punz could sense that something was up with his younger brother and he’d be damned if he didn’t check he was coping alright.

It was as though they were standing on opposing sides of a wall. Both were incredibly similar but they didn’t handle things the same way and often didn’t see things eye to eye. What they did share though was an overwhelming need to protect the other from everything they possibly could and that’s exactly what Punz wanted to do then and there.

“Wait were you crying?” Punz asked cautiously as he noticed the slightly red tint to Sapnap’s eyes and the puffy look to them “everything alright Sap.”

“Not really,” he muttered “had a shit day and I’ve just been overthinking all day too.”

“You don’t have to tell me,” Punz reassured him “only if you want to and feel ready. If not we can just go out to Purpled and Cardi and have some of the cake we brought over.”

Sapnap rose an eyebrow at that even though he had heard Cardi mention cake on the way out. He smiled gratefully at his older brother “I’d like that - what’s the occasion though?”

Punz looped an arm over his shoulders as they began to exit his bedroom and he grinned fondly at him “can’t I just miss my little bro....” and at an unimpressed look from Sapnap “Purpled’s new obsession is helping Cardi bake and I know you’ve finals coming up soon so I figured it might keep you going a while.”

A warm feeling crept through his body, coursing through every neuron and a rush of appreciation for his older brother passed through every cell. It was a small gesture but after the day he’d had, Punz might as well have bought him a car so he didn’t have to walk in the rain to lectures. Sure his family weren’t perfect, absent parents, not much money - but they did love each other deeply.

Anyone could see it from the way Punz glanced at Cardi when she wasn’t looking. As if she had hand picked the glistening stars and placed them into the night sky herself. Filled with complete adoration and devotion. He wanted that too. Maybe one day he’d have it.

#oneshot #mcyt fic #dreamwastaken #dreamnap #sapnap

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thewahookid · 3 years

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Dear Brothers and Sisters, All of You Who Have Accepted into Your Heart the Flame of Love of the Blessed Virgin!

Dear Brothers and Sisters, All of You Who Have Accepted into Your Heart the Flame of Love of the Blessed Virgin! As you well know, around this time we always pick a short section of the Spiritual Diary which will serve as a motto for the members of the Movement for the entire year. With the help of the spiritual assistants and coordinators, we have done so again this year. We chose one of the promises of the Blessed Mother, which can fill us with hope during these difficult times: ”I, the Beautiful Ray of Dawn, will blind Satan!” ( May 19, 1963) I ask you to accept with open hearts my thoughts concerning the motto for 2021. YEAR OF THE LORD’S MERCY New Year’s letter to the members of the Flame of Love Movement 1. Intersection of human and divine time We often hear that modern man is a prisoner of time. Time determines our entire existence: our waking, our daily life rhythm, our feasts, the passage of the years. Geologists reckon in terms of billions of years, Olympic runners measure even thousandths of seconds. We have divided the universe and our existence within it into incalculably long or unimaginably short sections. In Greek, the word ”chronos” designates man’s determined time in the past, the present and the future. But we cannot confine God into our time’s limitations. ” ...with the Lord one day is like a thousand years and a thousand years like one day” (2Pet 3:8). That is why, in the New Testament Greek, there is another word for the concept of time: ”chairos”. Chairos indicates mostly the point at which passing human time meets divine time. Chairos is that moment when the Lord gives man the possibility to decide and act. Jesus uses the word ”chairos” when He begins His public ministry: ”This is the time of fulfillment” (Mk 1:15) This is the word by which St. Paul exhorts believers to recognize the signs of the times: ”Time presses. Now is the hour to wake from sleep.” (Rm 13:11) When we celebrate the birth of Jesus year after year, do we recognize that in the stable of Bethlehem the ”chronos” and ”chairos”, human time and the time of divine mercy, met each other? Do we recognize when ”the fullness of time” of God’s mercy comes at different stages of our individual lives? Let us just think back over the year behind us. Did we live it as a calamity, or did we see it as a gift, a time that helped us to quiet down, slowed down our headlong rushing, helped us to reevaluate our lives so that we could renew our relationship with the Lord? It is my conviction that, in the events of the past months, it was not the punishing, but the merciful God Who showed Himself Who, as it were, held the STOP sign before humanity to make it turn away from its erring ways. He did not proclaim punishment, did not doom the world to destruction similar to the Flood, but merely stopped us: ”Why are you in such a hurry? What is it that is more important to you than I am?” (cf. Flame of Love Spiritual Diary, September 15, 1962) He acted like the father who firmly hugs his child to himself, as that child races towards the abyss. While his arms do limit the child in its movements, his embrace is also an expression of his protective love. This embrace is calming, this embrace forces us to think, this embrace leads us to recognize: we are moving in the wrong direction, we have to do something differently. Sixty years ago, a similar realization also led Mrs. Erzsébet to write the first lines of the Spiritual Diary: ”The road on which God leads us never comes to an end, it’s only that we turn away from it. I turned away.” When the Pharisees ask Jesus for a sign, to justify Himself, He answers: ”In the evening you say, ’Tomorrow will be fair, for the sky is red’; and in the morning, ’Today will be stormy, for the sky is red and threatening.’ You know how to judge the appearance of the sky, but you cannot judge the signs of the times” (Mt 16:2-3) In our days, we know the the signs of nature much better than the people of Israel did, but if we do not see divine intervention in the epidemic, Jesus would still ask the same thing today that He asked two thousand years ago: Can’t you recognize the signs of the times? At the same time, it is worthwhile comparing with this Gospel section that scene when the Lord ceremoniously enters Jerusalem and – again using the word chairos – weeps over the city, because it did not recognize the time of its visitation (cf Lk 19:44) The term visitation here carries with it the emotional content that, linked to the signs of the times expression, acquires a positive meaning. I believe that it is worth interpreting the present pandemic mostly in this connection. For if we see behind it the punishing God Who smites humanity, then we have not recognized the time of His grace-filled visitation. We have become captives of chronos, human time, and thus are unable to step into chairos. 2. The Virgin Mary, Mediator of the time of grace In the Old Testament, it is mostly the prophets who transmit God’s will to the people. They call for repentance, conversion, prophesy about judgement, but it is also through them that the Lord announces the time of mercy: ”Speak tenderly to Jerusalem, and proclaim to her that her sevice is at an end, her guilt is expiated” (Is 40:2) It was in this same sense that Isaiah made the prophetic mission he received from God known to Israel: ”The spirit of the Lord God is upon me, because the Lord has anointed me, ... to announce a year of favor from the Lord” (Is 61: 1-2) Although the prophetic charisma continues to be present in the Church – we notice that the Blessed Virgin, whom the Litany of Loreto calls Queen of Prophets, has in a certain sense taken over the mission of the Old Testament prophets. This is not surprising, since Mary did not transmit one or another message of God, but His eternal Word. When the Archangel Gabriel addressed her as full of grace, and the Child was conceived in her womb, she must have become aware that the time of God’s grace was becoming manifest before humanity with a power never seen before. This awareness prompted her to say the most meaningful ”yes” in the history of the world: ”Behold, I am the handmaid of the Lord. May it be done to me according to your word” (Lk 1:38) Sitting at the right hand of her Divine Son, the original meaning of the word ”prophet” – ”to speak in place of someone” – was consummated, because she is present in the Church no longer as a messenger, but as mediator of grace. In addition to the fact that she calls us to repentance and conversion at numerous points in the world, she does even more than this in the Flame of Love. She announces to us the time of overflowing mercy, the chairos: ”Through my Flame of Love, which I now pour out on the world, you will live a never before known era of grace” (Flame of Love Spiritual Diary, July 26, 1963). Innumerable cases were documented over the past thousand years when the Blessed Virgin established contact with humanity in some form. But it provides food for thought that of all of them, she herself emphasizes the messages of the Flame of Love, when she says: ”Since the Word became Flesh, I have never given such a great movement as the Flame of Love that comes to you now” (August 1st, 1962) 3. Are we living in the end times? The Flame of Love Spiritual Diary does not scare us with regards to the end times, it does not threaten humanity with irreversible destruction. Although it does speak of warning signs, the nature and time of which we do not know, but afterwards the picture of a renewed future, filled with hope, is shown to us, on the basis of the words of Jesus: ”The world, darkened by the lack of faith in the soul of humanity, will go through a great shock. Afterwards, they will believe, and this shock will create a new world through the meaning of the power of faith. Through the Flame of Love of the Blessed Virgin, the trust springing from faith will take root in souls, and the face of the earth will be renewed” (March 24, 1963) We cannot know whether the mentioned ”shock” means the present pandemic, but we cannot ignore the Apostle Paul’s perception that ”where sin increased, grace overflowed all the more” (Rm 5:20). Precisley the enormity of sin, as well as the pandemic, should awaken in us the hope that ”chronos” and ”chairos”, human time and the time of divine mercy will once again be woven together through the Virgin Mary, Queen of Prophets! Jesus gave the Apostles their mission with these words: ”As you go, make this proclamation: ’The kingdom of heaven is at hand.’” (Mt 10:7) And the Blessed Virgin calls us to proclaim: ”The time is near when my Flame of Love will start to burn, and ... this will give you all great strength. Everyone whom it reaches will feel this strength” (August 1, 1962) This strength will raise us up from hopelessness, doubts, fear, all of which the evil one plants into human hearts. Let us then proclaim the Blessed Mother’s promise to the despairing: ”I, the Beautiful Ray of Dawn, will blind Satan!” (May 19, 1963) May this be the motto of the Flame of love Movement in 2021! Let us mark the Spiritual Diary with these words, let us print this sentence on the posters of our programs, let us meditate on this at our meetings, and let us write this into our own souls with flaming letters, to receive encouragement through it. For ”the night is advanced, the day is at hand” (Rm 13:12) Dear brothers and sisters, with these thoughts I wish that 2021 may be the year of physical and spiritual healing, liberation and the year of the Lord for all of us. I believe that the Blessed Virgin, who introduced herself to us as ”the Beautiful Ray of Dawn”, will finally blind and make powerless the evil one, and thereby a more beautiful, more hope-filled dawn will break on humanity. That is why I ask her, together with you, with a heart full of trust: Mary, our Mother, in this era of time in which we live, which is filled with worries, in a world which has changed so much, we ask you to bless every member of our Movement, in particular those who are suffering the most from the results of the pandemic. Wipe away the tears caused by pain, stand beside the lonely sick people, help those working in the health care field, that they might be witnesses to the love of your Son. Give us strength through the Flame of your Love, that we too might be instruments of God’s healing mercy among our sick fellowmen. Give us brave hearts, which do not shrink from danger, but are capable of recognizing it, of loving and of helping every needy person during these difficult days! May you act in us at every moment. May the flame of you motherly love end the darkness which the enemy of souls feeds in hearts. Finally, permit us, asking for your intercession, to call you by the name you called yourself: Virgin Mary, the Beautiful Ray of Dawn, spread the effect of grace of your Flame of Love over all humanity!

Győző Kindelmann International Coordinator Budapest, January 1, 2021

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rockofeye · 6 years

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Epiphany: The Meaning of Blue

Epiphany was yesterday, January 6th. I grew up Baptist and had no real conception of Epiphany or the place of the three magi who sought out the Christ child and brought gifts for this manifestation of divinity made mortal. Vodou changed that, and the meaning and manifestation of the feast of the three magi associated with the word ‘epiphany’ has taken on meaning.

The story goes that the three kings (changed to fit liturgical standards from magi, which is a practitioner of magic and probably had to do with the prophecy that a child would be born, etc) followed a star to find the divine made manifest in mortal form, bringing aromatic and important gifts. Once there, they realized that the prophecy was indeed fulfilled by this tiny baby and recognized that something significant had happened.

In vodou, Advent, Christmas, and Epiphany are Petwo timesof year. The manifestation of the divine in human form is an extremely ‘hot’ spiritual act, and that moment of the full seating of a spirit in a mortal body is full of fire. The images associated with this season--Mary overseeing a baby in the manger, a child Christ, the three magi--are deeply tied to out Petwo spirits. In particular, the image of the three magi holding gifts represents the Simbi, a family of spirits who collectively hold many secrets of the wanga priests tie, of the fey and bwa that make up some of the contents of such, and who stir and heat the baths. They are by and large master magicians, and the three magi speak to that, as well as speak to the diversity of the Simbi, since the magi are often pictured as having distinct backgrounds. The culmination of the season is fete Twa Wa, or Epiphany, when the bath for the New Year is made and, in houses that hold a fete Twa Wa, the spirits themselves make the bath. A good luck bath can only be made by a priest (and mine is pretty bitchin’), but a bath made by the spirits known for hot, fiery work? Y-E-S.

For me, this has been a season of revelation, both in life change and internal realizations. One day into the season of advent, I started a new job that lets me use all my skills and experience in my field thus far. Just before Christmas, I signed on to a new apartment that is my first stable, long-term housing since just before I left for kanzo. Big stuff for me, delivered right from the hands of my spirits.

Internally, I have really been considering and realizing the idea and meaning of ‘epiphany’: revealing of a sudden intuitive realization. The lightbulb moments. Sitting back in your chair after you read a piece of research that connects dots you hadn’t considered before. Thunderstruck moments of knowing.

I did a novena leading up to jou de Twa Rwa, and part of that novena was revisiting the epiphany that my emergence from the djevo was. The world had really changed for me, and I saw (and contiue to see) things very differently than I did prior to kanzo. For me, part of being a priest is keeping my feet in that particular epiphany and keeping it up front as a key foundational piece of my priestwork.

It’s hard to explain if you aren’t in the middle of it. I had a related conversation with a good friend recently who is an old school traditional witch. She has been one of few people in my life who have had a front row uncensored seat to vodou unfolding in my life. She was the first person to see me once I got back to the US after kanzo, and she has been utterly unsurprised as to how things have unfolded.

We were talking about how hard it is to explain what happens with spirits whom you have deep and abiding relationships with and how real and in-this-world they are. She related it to the relative lack of advanced traditional witchcraft books or written resources: at some point a) you must experience it to fully understand it, b) the spirits must teach you how to do the work and be in these relationships, and c) it looks utterly ridiculous written down because it makes no sense to most people who are not living it in their own way right beside you.

She’s pretty on target. It is incredibly frustrating in some ways to write about those epiphanies and have them make sense to anyone else. Sometimes words fail the experience because how do you describe what shakes your foundations and changes your understanding of who you are and what you mean in this world?

Epiphany.

This season, it has been about the bonds between myself and my spirits. We talk a lot about how ceremony solidifies something and there is cemented truth there--unless you seek to ruin the work put on you as part of ceremonies and/or break agreements you make, those spirits are with you forever.

The rest of it, though, is based on how you show up and what you do. Attitude means something, as do intentions. How you live your life and conduct yourself influences how you approach your spirits. What sacrifices you make to do what is asked of you, and what lengths you are willing to go to. All of this balls up into the stretchy rubber band of your relationships.

When I arrived in Haiti for kanzo, my mother and I sat in her house and had a long conversation about what my life had been before I left the United States and what was possible going forward. She looked me in the eye and told me that my sacrifices of basically everything--job, home, car, most of my belongings--would not be in vain, as long as I did the work that I was there to do. My spirits backed that up and told me that my sacrifice was my foundation, in a lot of ways, and that as long as I kept up front my oaths and promises, I would always be taken care of. When I did maryaj, they made the same promises in exchange for my promises--my rings will always be the physical reminder of the spirits who love me and walk next to me each day.

That has been the epiphany I keep re-living: they love me and are with me a-l-w-a-y-s, even in situations that seem completely unrelated to vodou because they are MY spirits. They love me enough to show up and show me where the danger is. They love me enough to show up and slip money in my pocket. They love me enough to explain things in ways that make sense to me. They love me enough to teach me and teach me and teach me. They love me enough to be patient.

It sounds simple, but it’s absolutely mindblowing and, over and over, it says ‘this shit is for real’. That, no matter how deep your faith and what you have seen, is always an epiphany of it’s own. This particular revolution of realization shakes your bone marrow. You can go through kanzo and suffer with your sacrifices and receive the support of your spirits there (because you expect it there), but when they show up in a dream on a Tuesday night when you’re curled up on the couch or the floor or on a borrowed mattress in your terribly worn out jammie pants that you keep because they are the most comfy thing ever and tell you that they will always love you and always protect you?

It shakes things up in the best mind-blowing way. You understand things differently and you don’t understand how you don’t look different for it. The color blue is no longer a flat hue, but is deep and rich and technicolor and you intrinsically know what that means and how it spins around you. Things can never be the same, ever, and your internal revolution cycle revs just a tiny bit faster.

#vodou #haitian vodou #epiphany #shaken not stirred

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setfreeexcerpts · 4 years

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Chapter 11

Improving Our Vision

________________________________________

If the failed expansion of our vision for a life lived victoriously and beyond our wildest imaginations is a result of our inability to grasp how we could ever possess such victory, then I’m afraid we may simply be lacking an appreciation for the source of our strength.

Our eyesight is so poor.

If the Holy Spirit were to expose us to a Holy Discontent (see Hybels’ book by that name), the sad reality is it may die a quick death because we are so leashed to the shackles of our very tangible American Dream culture.

The fact is, it is hard to escape the American Dream of prosperity, comfort, self-satisfying work and well-earned recreation and rest.

But on the other hand, if a Holy Discontent were to become strong enough, and we are gifted by the Spirit to be sufficiently wrecked and ripped from our comfort zone, such can actually move us from the American Dream and into a dream of God’s choosing–for the times in which He has us living.

You say, “Greg, I understand there is more. But I am insufficient to conjure up such newness of vision because I am so limited.”

But you’re only partially right–you just have the tense of the verb all wrong. You were limited!

WAKE. UP. PEOPLE.

You have been given all you need to partake in Christ’s overwhelmingly powerful victory in your life! Have you not been born into a newness of life in Him?

Which of these statements is true of you?

a. My God is not capable, or

b. I have not been born into newness

If you believe you are not capable of attaining to a newness of vision for the precious life God has given you to live on this planet, then one of the above statements is true of you. Or just maybe neither is true and you just need to educate yourself about what is true of you as God’s child! If so, this is why you are reading this book. It is for this purpose this book was written–to educate Christians about what is true of us as God’s children!

What does 2 Peter 1:3-4 mean if it is not pointing to the fact that you have what it takes within–not on your own, but through the power of the Spirit of the God living within you?

3 His divine power has given us everything we need for a godly life through our knowledge of him who called us by his own glory and goodness. 4 Through these he has given us his very great and precious promises, so that through them you may participate in the divine nature, having escaped the corruption in the world caused by evil desires.

– 2 Peter 1:3-4

My goodness, read that again! This passage is FULL of victory! Which of these three truths of this scripture passage are you going to deny and claim to be a lie, if you dare?

1. We have everything we need for a godly life through His divine power! Is this one you want to refute with God?

Did the Holy Spirit blow it when communicating this one to Peter?

If we are completely surrendered to the power of the divine living inside us, we have access to everything we need for victorious living–it is his power doing the work, not yours brother and sister.

We MUST stop habitually picking up our old man in lieu of surrendering to our newness IN CHRIST!

2. Or maybe this truth from the second half of verse 2 makes you uncomfortable. …through our knowledge of him who called us by his own glory and goodness!

Ok, so if you are lacking in knowledge, what’s up with that? Do you not know where to go for that knowledge?

BATHE in the “sharper than any two-edged sword” Word of the Living God, my friend! It is through a knowledge of HIM that we gain, then possess and finally claim ownership of this divine power.

If you want to strip God of glory and goodness, then remain ignorant of his Word–stay out of the scriptures which bring understanding. Or, a better recommendation is that you could engage your circumstances, relationships and the world around you in victory by gaining in wisdom and knowledge of the tool you carry around with you 24/7…the Spirit of the Living God!

3. Perhaps this is the part you want to leave behind, that through them (meaning his promises) you may participate in the divine nature, having escaped the corruption in the world caused by evil desires.

There it is! Do you want to participate in the divine nature or do you want to live in the power of the dead man of flesh inherited after the nature of that which is dust–a nature of sin, death, darkness, and ignorance of that which is right?

The triune, personal, all powerful God has told you that YOU HAVE ESCAPED THE CORRUPTION OF THE WORLD! Why, oh why, continue wallowing in it when you don’t have to?

God says that the new nature within you has given you full rights to participation in the divine nature. You are to be free from the evil desires of the world. If our hearts are set in Him, our old desires no longer have victory over us.

If there is trouble here for you, it is possible there is a problem in your life with surrender. But why, oh why should we not surrender ALL OF WHAT WE CARRY AROUND that was born of an old, defeated, now dead man? Where’s the joy in that? Where’s the appeal in that?

There is tremendous freedom, joy and victory that can only come from a brokenhearted surrender of our lives into the Cross of Christ which has already done all the work!

Indeed, it is the Word of God which breaks the spell of counterfeit pleasures. Let me say it again, it is the Word which breaks the power of counterfeit pleasures.

And as we listen to the Spirit of God while in his Word, we can recognize how it is that we can be made new–prepared for a life lived dangerously with the presence of God.

What about Isaiah?

When, like Isaiah, we have a personal encounter with God, we are changed forever. The counterfeit pleasures of this world pale by comparison when God finds us willingly living palms up…positioning ourselves for God’s movement in our lives. What God did for Isaiah at the leading edge of his call, God can do for us.

Check out Isaiah’s commissioning experience in the first 8 verses of Chapter 6:

1 In the year that King Uzziah died, I saw the Lord, high and exalted, seated on a throne; and the train of his robe filled the temple. 2 Above him were seraphim, each with six wings: With two wings they covered their faces, with two they covered their feet, and with two they were flying. 3 And they were calling to one another:

“Holy, holy, holy is the Lord Almighty; the whole earth is full of his glory.”

4 At the sound of their voices the doorposts and thresholds shook and the temple was filled with smoke. 5 “Woe to me!” I cried. “I am ruined! For I am a man of unclean lips, and I live among a people of unclean lips, and my eyes have seen the King, the Lord Almighty.” 6 Then one of the seraphim flew to me with a live coal in his hand, which he had taken with tongs from the altar. 7 With it he touched my mouth and said, “See, this has touched your lips; your guilt is taken away and your sin atoned for.” 8 Then I heard the voice of the Lord saying, “Whom shall I send? And who will go for us?” And I said, “Here am I. Send me!”

– Isaiah 6:1-8

What a picture of redemptive change through God’s power and undoing in Isaiah’s life. His experience resulted in a newness of duty and call.

Isaiah didn’t have the benefit of the Holy Spirit entering him as do we today. His experience was, one could say, a pre-Christ substitute experience. Christ had not yet been situated at God’s right hand, so the Holy Spirit had not yet been made available to Isaiah “full-time” in the same way He is today.

But through this pre-Christ experience, Isaiah knew about and deeply sensed his guilt and sin. And he didn’t know how to be made right…just that he had been “undone.”

So God took care of that–the seraphim flying to him with a live coal–touching, purifying and redeeming him in one swift moment. And he was made new! Isaiah got it. He knew what it meant to have all things new, old things passing away. And a new mission consumed his life.

In the same way, we need to be undone. It is a prerequisite without which we cannot be fully effective in hearing and executing our spiritual call.

Our undoing can only happen through a personal revelation from God in our lives. And an informed theology of who we are as Christians can help set the stage. Our being undone can awaken the sense of who we are–and who God is relative to us. It can break us. Our being undone through an understanding of accurate theology can humble us. And it can give us newness of life, boldness and purpose.

So while we will deal with this in more detail later, it is my strong belief that when we become both academically and emotionally connected with an accurate theology of God, we, like Isaiah, will have such a “woe is me” experience–one uniquely crafted for us by the hand of the Spirit. We will know that we are ruined, that we are men and women of unclean lips.

And just as Isaiah was made clean and commissioned by the seraphim’s hot coals, our hot coal experience can begin with a real apprehension of the work done by our Lord Jesus through his shed blood, and victory gained us on the Cross.

But in what way might this benefit us? And how can Jesus’ triumph live itself out in our lives?

It is the objective of Part III in this book to help us gain this apprehension.

But before we go there, we have some cobblestone paths over which to travel together. I say cobblestone because the next two sections are not to be skimmed through at 70 mph with the cruise set. Instead, ask the Holy Spirit to help you personally reflect on the observations I am making about many of us who may have become a bit too attached to the American Christian life.

In these pages, I will propose what I believe is largely true about us as life-long, American Christians; our longings still find their roots in what this earth side life has to offer. And insomuch as this is the case, we settle for the crumbs falling from the banquet table that was intended for us–a feast of intimate, ever-deepening fellowship with our Redeemer.

Thus, the following lyric from the song Slumber, by NEEDTOBREATHE.

All these victims stand in line for...

Crumbs that fall from the table just enough to get by All the while your invitation Wake on up from your slumber baby, open up your eyes Wake on up from your slumber baby, open up your eyes

May what follows continue to lead us into wholeness, and may our satisfaction with the dry crumbs of Spirit-less living become a thing of the past. Oh that we would position ourselves to let the Spirit open our eyes. This positioning is the intended purpose of the next two sections. Are you ready for the cobblestone?

PAUSE to PONDER

Carve out five minutes right now. The world will wait. If you are out of time, return here when you have it – before continuing on. Take a deep breath and quiet your mind and spirit. Ask God to speak to you through his Word.

Read 2 Peter 1:3-4 out loud once each minute. Talk to God about a different facet of this passage each time.

Ask God to forgive you for ever believing you are impotent in this life as his child, or that you don’t have what it takes, in Christ, to live a victorious Christian life.

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romancatholicreflections · 6 years

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26th November >> Sunday Homilies and Reflections for Roman Catholics on the Solemnity of Christ The King ~ Year A, Last Sunday of the Church Year.

The Feast of Christ the King of the Universe

Gospel text: Matthew 25:31-46vs.31 Jesus said to his disciples: “When the Son of Man comes in his glory, escorted by all the angels, then he will take his seat on his throne of glory.vs.32 All the nations will be assembled before him and he will separate men one from another as the shepherd separates sheep from goats.vs.33 He will place the sheep on his right and the goats on his left.vs.34 Then the King will say to those on his right hand, ‘Come, you whom my Father has blessed, take for your heritage the kingdom prepared for you since the foundation of the world.vs.35 For I was hungry and you gave me food; I was thirsty and you gave me drink; I was a stranger and you made me welcome;vs.36 naked and you clothed me, sick and you visited me, in prison and you came to see me.’vs.37 Then the virtuous will say to him in reply, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you; or thirsty and give you drink?vs.38 When did we see you a stranger and make you welcome; naked and clothe you;vs.39 sick or in prison and go to see you?’vs.40 And the King will answer, ‘I tell you solemnly, in so far as you did this to one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did it to me.’vs.41 Next he will say to those on his left hand, ‘Go away from me, with your curse upon you, to the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels.vs.42 For I was hungry and you never gave me food; I was thirsty and you never gave me anything to drink;vs.43 I was a stranger and you never made me welcome, naked and you never clothed me, sick and in prison and you never visited me.’vs.44 Then it will be their turn to ask, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry or thirsty, a stranger or naked, sick or in prison, and did not come to your help?’vs.45 Then he will answer, ‘I tell you solemnly, in so far as you neglected to do this to one of the least of these, you neglected to do it to me.’vs.46 And they will go away to eternal punishment, and the virtuous to eternal life.”

Michelangelo’s The Last Judgementin the Sistine Chapel, Rome

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We have four commentators available from whom you may wish to choose . Scroll down to the required author.

Michel DeVerteuil: Lectio Divina with the Sunday Gospels – Year A

Thomas O’Loughlin: Liturgical Resources for the year of Matthew

John Littleton : Journeying through the Year of Matthew

Donal Neary : Editor of the Messenger

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Michel DeVerteuil Lectio Divina with the Sunday Gospels- Year A www.columba.ie

General Comments

For today’s feast of Christ the King, the Church chose a gospel passage which is the final teaching of Jesus’ public life according to St Matthew; it therefore completes the lectionary’s “continuous reading” for the year. Meditating on this passage in the light of the feast requires two clarifications.

Modern Western culture does not have kings – or queens. The few left do not exercise any real power; they play ceremonial roles and we associate them with pomp and pageantry. In the biblical culture, however, kings are leaders of their communities. They are “judges” in the sense that they set moral standards for the community. Rightly then, today’s gospel reading celebrates Christ’s kingship as an act of “judgement”.

The second clarification is that Jesus is a special kind of king – his way of “judging” is very different from what prevails in the world. This is what the feast celebrates – the “good news for the poor” of Christ’s (God’s) standards of judgement. It is also a call to repentance addressed to us as individuals and as a Church, since our “judgments” (in word or action) are often far removed from those of Jesus.

As always in the bible, Christ’s kingship is taught not in abstract language but through a dramatic story – an event we are invited to identify with. The story is of a future, final judgment – like the parable of two weeks ago, “the kingdom of heaven will be like this”. Our present judgments are never “final”, the final one will occur only “when the Son of Man comes in his glory escorted by all his angels”. For now, all we can be certain of is that God’s judgement will surprise us, and so we are humble in his presence. To the extent that we are complacent and self-satisfied we are not ready for God’s judgement. St Paul sums up our attitude: “There must be no passing of premature judgement. Leave that until the Lord comes: he will light up all that is hidden in the dark and reveal the secret intentions of the human heart” (1 Cor 4: 5).

This is not the whole picture, however. Today’s passage invites us to remember the temporary and fleeting “judgement moments” we may have experienced: – we became seriously ill – our marriage broke up – we fell into a fault we thought we would never succumb to – our country experienced national disaster, floods, famine, civil war. These experiences are authentic encounters with God in that they reinforce the teaching of the entire bible that when God comes into the world “the lowly are lifted up and set in the company of princes”, “the barren wife bears countless children”, “the last come first”. – We thought that certain people were the “least”. Now we realise they were sacred, divine in fact, since what we did to them we did to Christ and what we refused them we refused to Christ.

Pope Francis washes the foot of a prison inmate during the Holy Thursday Mass of the Lord’s Supper at Rome’s Casal del Marmo prison for minors.

– We thought that we met Christ by doing extraordinary things. Now we realise that it was in very mundane things, giving food to the hungry, drink to the thirsty, clothes to the naked, visiting the sick and those in prison. – We thought we met Christ in moments of prayer or in holy places. Now we realise that we meet him when we feed and clothe those in need, when we visit hospitals and prisons. – We realise that leadership in religious organisations counts for nothing before God. In his judgement, the only thing that counts is humble service.

As always in the bible, the judgement causes two reactions and we have experienced them both at different times: – wonderful relief at knowing we were right. Good actions which we (and others who had power over us – “chief priests and elders”) looked on as trivial were in fact truly great, recognised in the presence of God (and of all right thinking people) and never to be forgotten. It is a homecoming experience, we “take for our heritage the kingdom prepared for us since the foundation of the world”. – terrible sadness when we realise that we have missed the boat – like the foolish bridesmaids of two weeks ago. We are consumed by remorse, “the eternal fire”. The contrast with the virtuous is striking; for them it was a homecoming, whereas these feel deep alienation – the fire was “prepared for the devil and his angels”, they “go away” to their fate.

As on the past two Sundays, we remember the context of this teaching. Jesus’ imminent crucifixion would be a “judgement moment” in that it broke down all barriers: – the humblest person there was the Son of God, – the holy place was outside the city, – the person of faith was a Roman soldier. In those degrading circumstances, the “son of man” was present “in his glory escorted by all the angels, with all the nations assembled before him”. We remember experiences which seemed to be disasters but in fact were judgement moments showing us how wrong our values were.

We note once more the down-to-earthness of Jesus’ judgement. The sign that we have met him is that we discern between good and evil, “goats and sheep are separated; one placed on the right, the other on the left”. His teaching is not airy fairy – “you must live with the consequences of your actions”. “Good news” is implied however – “other chances will arise so don’t miss out next time”.

Scriptural Prayer

“It is we who lose when we allow the venom of hatred and revenge to circulate through our spiritual veins.” ….Archbishop Pantin of Port of Spain, Trinidad

Lord, forgive us that in times of great crisis – national or personal – we become vengeful, wanting to consign people to the eternal fire prepared for the devils and his angels. Help us to wait for the day when the Son of Man comes to his glory, escorted by all the angels, takes his seat on his throne of glory, with all the nations assembled before him, and separates good from evil, as the shepherd separates the sheep from the goats.

Lord, we tend to think of you sitting passively on your throne, indifferent to what is going on in the world. But whenever we enter your presence, it is always an experience of discernment, of goodness being put on one side of you and evil on the other, like sheep being separated from goats.

Lord, we thank you for those beautiful moments when we relieved someone’s pain. – Someone was hungry and we gave them food, thirsty and we gave them drink; – we clothed someone naked, made a stranger welcome; – visited one who was sick, went to see a prisoner. Quite suddenly it dawned on us that we had experienced a blessed moment, had a personal meeting with you and had come to the best of ourselves; we had taken possession of a kingdom that had been prepared for us since the foundation of the world.

Lord, part of each one of us has no compassion, can see the hungry and never give them food, see the thirsty and never give them anything to drink, never wants to make strangers welcome, clothe the naked, or visit the sick and those in prison. Sometimes this part of ourselves seems very influential, but it is not the truth of ourselves; it is evil, destined for the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels.

Lord, a moment of grace is like coming home, entering a kingdom prepared for us since the foundation of the world. Thank you, Lord.

“We can never really love others unless we feel a certain reverence towards them.” …Cardinal Newman Lord, help us to move from helping the poor with condescension to experiencing that to do a favour to one of the least of our brothers and sisters is to be given the privilege of doing it to you.

Lord, we thank you for those who are grateful to us. So often all we did was to help them in some basic way, but they make us feel that we looked after you and now deserve to be put on your right side,

Lord, we have to make a journey in our relationship with you. At first, we think that we will draw close to you by doing plenty of “holy” duties. Then we realise that you want us to be free and spontaneous, just to be compassionate, and leave judgement to you.

“The abdication by the Christian churches of one whole department of life, that of social and political conduct, as the sphere of the powers of this world and of them alone, is one of the capital revolutions through which the human spirit has passed.” … R.H. Tawney

Lord, we pray that your Church will always proclaim Jesus’ teaching that when the Son of Man comes in his glory, escorted by all the angels, to take his seat on his throne of glory with all the

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dfroza · 4 years

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idols made of gold

when the True gold of the heart is the Spirit of Light who illuminates the inner room (the instrumental womb) with Love as defined by an act of grace in the Son

this is the eternal treasure of the Temple who we in faith and hope become

(inside, Anew)

and we read (and are warned) of an act of idolatry in chapter 5 of the book of Daniel where gold and silver chalices that were stolen from the Temple in Jerusalem were being used by King Belshazzar and others:

[The Writing of a Disembodied Hand]

King Belshazzar held a great feast for his one thousand nobles. The wine flowed freely. Belshazzar, heady with the wine, ordered that the gold and silver chalices his father Nebuchadnezzar had stolen from God’s Temple of Jerusalem be brought in so that he and his nobles, his wives and concubines, could drink from them. When the gold and silver chalices were brought in, the king and his nobles, his wives and his concubines, drank wine from them. They drank the wine and drunkenly praised their gods made of gold and silver, bronze and iron, wood and stone.

At that very moment, the fingers of a human hand appeared and began writing on the lamp-illumined, whitewashed wall of the palace. When the king saw the disembodied hand writing away, he went white as a ghost, scared out of his wits. His legs went limp and his knees knocked. He yelled out for the enchanters, the fortunetellers, and the diviners to come. He told these Babylonian magi, “Anyone who can read this writing on the wall and tell me what it means will be famous and rich—purple robe, the great gold chain—and be third-in-command in the kingdom.”

One after the other they tried, but could make no sense of it. They could neither read what was written nor interpret it to the king. So now the king was really frightened. All the blood drained from his face. The nobles were in a panic.

The queen heard of the hysteria among the king and his nobles and came to the banquet hall. She said, “Long live the king! Don’t be upset. Don’t sit around looking like ghosts. There is a man in your kingdom who is full of the divine Holy Spirit. During your father’s time he was well known for his intellectual brilliance and spiritual wisdom. He was so good that your father, King Nebuchadnezzar, made him the head of all the magicians, enchanters, fortunetellers, and diviners. There was no one quite like him. He could do anything—interpret dreams, solve mysteries, explain puzzles. His name is Daniel, but he was renamed Belteshazzar by the king. Have Daniel called in. He’ll tell you what is going on here.”

So Daniel was called in. The king asked him, “Are you the Daniel who was one of the Jewish exiles my father brought here from Judah? I’ve heard about you—that you’re full of the Holy Spirit, that you’ve got a brilliant mind, that you are incredibly wise. The wise men and enchanters were brought in here to read this writing on the wall and interpret it for me. They couldn’t figure it out—not a word, not a syllable. But I’ve heard that you interpret dreams and solve mysteries. So—if you can read the writing and interpret it for me, you’ll be rich and famous—a purple robe, the great gold chain around your neck—and third-in-command in the kingdom.”

Daniel answered the king, “You can keep your gifts, or give them to someone else. But I will read the writing for the king and tell him what it means.

“Listen, O king! The High God gave your father Nebuchadnezzar a great kingdom and a glorious reputation. Because God made him so famous, people from everywhere, whatever their race, color, and creed, were totally intimidated by him. He killed or spared people on whim. He promoted or humiliated people capriciously. He developed a big head and a hard spirit. Then God knocked him off his high horse and stripped him of his fame. He was thrown out of human company, lost his mind, and lived like a wild animal. He ate grass like an ox and was soaked by heaven’s dew until he learned his lesson: that the High God rules human kingdoms and puts anyone he wants in charge.

“You are his son and have known all this, yet you’re as arrogant as he ever was. Look at you, setting yourself up in competition against the Master of heaven! You had the sacred chalices from his Temple brought into your drunken party so that you and your nobles, your wives and your concubines, could drink from them. You used the sacred chalices to toast your gods of silver and gold, bronze and iron, wood and stone—blind, deaf, and imbecile gods. But you treat with contempt the living God who holds your entire life from birth to death in his hand.

“God sent the hand that wrote on the wall, and this is what is written: mene, teqel, and peres. This is what the words mean:

“Mene: God has numbered the days of your rule and they don’t add up.

“Teqel: You have been weighed on the scales and you don’t weigh much.

“Peres: Your kingdom has been divided up and handed over to the Medes and Persians.”

Belshazzar did what he had promised. He robed Daniel in purple, draped the great gold chain around his neck, and promoted him to third-in-charge in the kingdom.

That same night the Babylonian king Belshazzar was murdered. Darius the Mede was sixty-two years old when he succeeded him as king.

The Book of Daniel, Chapter 5 (The Message)

and in Today’s paired chapter with this in the book of Luke we read of a divine birth whereby our Creator entered the picture of garden earth to redeem it from the past (tense) by paving the way for its rebirth:

[The Birth of Jesus]

About that time Caesar Augustus ordered a census to be taken throughout the Empire. This was the first census when Quirinius was governor of Syria. Everyone had to travel to his own ancestral hometown to be accounted for. So Joseph went from the Galilean town of Nazareth up to Bethlehem in Judah, David’s town, for the census. As a descendant of David, he had to go there. He went with Mary, his fiancée, who was pregnant.

While they were there, the time came for her to give birth. She gave birth to a son, her firstborn. She wrapped him in a blanket and laid him in a manger, because there was no room in the hostel.

[An Event for Everyone]

There were sheepherders camping in the neighborhood. They had set night watches over their sheep. Suddenly, God’s angel stood among them and God’s glory blazed around them. They were terrified. The angel said, “Don’t be afraid. I’m here to announce a great and joyful event that is meant for everybody, worldwide: A Savior has just been born in David’s town, a Savior who is Messiah and Master. This is what you’re to look for: a baby wrapped in a blanket and lying in a manger.”

At once the angel was joined by a huge angelic choir singing God’s praises:

Glory to God in the heavenly heights,

Peace to all men and women on earth who please him.

As the angel choir withdrew into heaven, the sheepherders talked it over. “Let’s get over to Bethlehem as fast as we can and see for ourselves what God has revealed to us.” They left, running, and found Mary and Joseph, and the baby lying in the manger. Seeing was believing. They told everyone they met what the angels had said about this child. All who heard the sheepherders were impressed.

Mary kept all these things to herself, holding them dear, deep within herself. The sheepherders returned and let loose, glorifying and praising God for everything they had heard and seen. It turned out exactly the way they’d been told!

[Blessings]

When the eighth day arrived, the day of circumcision, the child was named Jesus, the name given by the angel before he was conceived.

Then when the days stipulated by Moses for purification were complete, they took him up to Jerusalem to offer him to God as commanded in God’s Law: “Every male who opens the womb shall be a holy offering to God,” and also to sacrifice the “pair of doves or two young pigeons” prescribed in God’s Law.

In Jerusalem at the time, there was a man, Simeon by name, a good man, a man who lived in the prayerful expectancy of help for Israel. And the Holy Spirit was on him. The Holy Spirit had shown him that he would see the Messiah of God before he died. Led by the Spirit, he entered the Temple. As the parents of the child Jesus brought him in to carry out the rituals of the Law, Simeon took him into his arms and blessed God:

God, you can now release your servant;

release me in peace as you promised.

With my own eyes I’ve seen your salvation;

it’s now out in the open for everyone to see:

A God-revealing light to the non-Jewish nations,

and of glory for your people Israel.

Jesus’ father and mother were speechless with surprise at these words. Simeon went on to bless them, and said to Mary his mother,

This child marks both the failure and

the recovery of many in Israel,

A figure misunderstood and contradicted—

the pain of a sword-thrust through you—

But the rejection will force honesty,

as God reveals who they really are.

The Book of Luke, Chapter 2:1-35 (The Message)

and then inspiration for such naked honesty is seen in these lines from Psalm 18:

God made my life complete

when I placed all the pieces before him.

When I got my act together,

he gave me a fresh start.

Now I’m alert to God’s ways;

I don’t take God for granted.

Every day I review the ways he works;

I try not to miss a trick.

I feel put back together,

and I’m watching my step.

God rewrote the text of my life

when I opened the book of my heart to his eyes.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 18:20-24 (The Message)

to be concluded by a picture of reverence in these lines from chapter 14 of Proverbs for november 14:

Reverence for the Eternal brings bold confidence,

and one’s offspring will have hope of protection.

Respect and honor for Him is the basis of a satisfied life,

which guards a person from being trapped in the snares of death.

The Book of Proverbs, Chapter 14:26-27 (The Voice)

my personal reading of the Scriptures for november 14, the 53rd day of Autumn and day 318 of the year:

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imaginetonyandbucky · 7 years

Text

Bucky and the Alchemiste

Part Two

isolated /ˈʌɪsəleɪtɪd/

adjective

‘far away from other places, buildings, or people; remote’, ‘having minimal contact or little in common with others’ or ‘single; exceptional’

The mansion was huge. Room after room, all thick rugs and polished stone, elegant dark wood furniture and mirror after mirror for Edwin’s use. Edwin had indeed shown him to a room, on the upper floor in the other wing of the house, but then told him that he was free to explore as he pleased. Bucky thanked him, and as Edwin disappeared from the mirror sat down on his new bed, bag at his feet. The room was large and sparsely furnished, but Bucky was thankful for it – a bed, dresser, desk and chair were almost more than he needed, with rugs, a fireplace and a bedside table being excessive to anything he’d had before. After his time in the guard, simply having a room to himself felt like a luxury.

His worldly possessions were packed into his bag, and they were few. The singular photo that had been taken of the Barnes family – his sisters both happy, his parents both alive, and himself intact and childish still – a few of the small paintings Steve had done for him, his dagger from his guard days, the few books that were his, the last pieces of his family’s hand-me-downs, three complete outfits (one of which was his Sunday best), and the journal he’d kept since his Ma had died. He left them in the bag and tugged off his boots, hung his navy-blue coat on the back of the door and padded out into the corridor in sock-clad feet.

He wasn’t sure what he was expecting to find in the mansion – what sort of rooms rich people had he could only dream of – but what shocked him was the complete lack of- anything. He wouldn’t have noticed that the walls and furniture were partially faded from years in the light had it not been for the dark spots where paintings had been taken down, ornaments packed away. Discounting the mirrors placed up and down the hallways, beside doors and desks and windows in each room, there was very little to make the mansion a home.

There was one photo, though. It was hung in a study in Bucky’s wing. (He was going to refer to it as his, because so far, all the life seemed to be held in Tony’s workshop.) There was no evidence of anyone other than Tony, except- except for the photo. It was fantastically done, seemingly capturing a random moment instead of the usual staging a photo required – given they costed so much and took so much time – and was crammed with people.

In the centre, they were clearly Tony and his parents – the man was a spitting image of his father at a glance, but Bucky could see his mother in his eyes and the softness of his face. The two of them were half-hugging their son, who was laughing with his eyes shut in the centre, and Bucky didn’t find it hard to imagine that they were holding hands behind Tony in the photo. There were other kids in the photo, too, clearly not related by blood, but for all they were tugged into the hug may as well been. Three girls, and three boys, all trying to hug Tony in some-way. Each of the kids looked as happy as Tony did there, and Bucky gave into his curiosity to move around the desk and read the plaque on the frame.

“Lord and Lady Stark, their Heir, Anthony, and his friends; Natasha, Janet, Virginia, James, Robert and Clinton, on Anthony’s 11th Birthday” the plaque read in neat engraving. There was a James in that picture, though he couldn’t decide which of the boys it belonged to – the curly-haired brunet with the large glasses and the shy smile? The black kid with short-cut black hair and the air of an older brother? The blond, scruffy-looking kid with a toothy grin? He hoped whichever he shared a name with was cool, that’s for sure – although how cool could any of these people be, if they weren’t here now when Tony clearly needed them?

One of the girls was blushing as she was hugged back – Tony’s arm around her shoulders – with strawberry-blonde hair and a sprinkling of freckles. The other red-head had vibrant hair and pale skin, with hard grey eyes and a smile like a smirk, while the third girl seemed to have launched herself at the group with an energy Bucky could almost see, brown waves flying, manic grin obvious.

In the back of the photo – Bucky only just noticed him now, as he went to turn away – was a man, about Lord Stark’s age, although showing it more with the grey that wasn’t relegated to just his temples and the tired fondness to his smile. He was dressed both more formally and more simply than the rest, in a simple black and white suit. Like a butler, Bucky thought, and the words brought his thoughts screeching to a halt. That was Edwin in the photo, somehow, Bucky just knew – and the people he’d heard Tony talking to earlier-

Something was off.

Bucky turned to leave, feeling like he’d stumbled into something he wasn’t really prepared for, when he noticed a candle holder by the door. He could’ve sworn it wasn’t there when he came in, but chalked it up to being preoccupied by the photo and moved on with his exploration.

The sunlight was no longer coming in through the windows, creating a silhouette of the horizon, when Edwin appeared in a mirror to summon him to dinner. Bucky hadn’t given much thought to food – he’d found a library, and promptly lost himself in the towering bookshelves like a kid in a candy store – but now it was mentioned, Bucky found himself starving, and lamenting not bringin the last of his bread and cheese up with him. He had the odd notion that he ought to clean up – an after effect of the slow realisation that Tony was a Lord – but Edwin had mentioned no such idea, so Bucky tugged at the edge of his shirt, and went where he was directed.

The dining room was small, by the standards of the rooms Bucky had been exploring, but was still the size of every room in Bucky’s childhood home combined. The table was sized for more than just himself and Tony, even if it was only set for them, and laden with more food than Bucky had seen outside of the feasts the Guard had held on few occasions.

Shoving aside the nausea that came with the stark reminder, Bucky moved to take a seat, just as the door behind him creaked slightly. Bucky turned, but no one had come inside. He frowned, but tried not to think too hard on it, and took a seat at one end of the table. The food looked simply divine, and he longed to tuck in, but it’d be rude to start without waiting for his host.

It was another ten minutes before Tony swept in, still in his robes with an air of annoyance about him. His steps stuttered as he noticed the table – and Bucky was certain it was the table and not his own presence – but he sighed, and took the seat opposite Bucky. Now that Tony was sat, the other end of the table didn’t seem so far away. Bucky smiled when Tony caught his gaze, and the knot in Bucky’s chest loosened a little when Tony returned it.

“So, how do you like the house so far?” Tony asked, pulling a plate of mashed potatoes towards himself– which Bucky took as his cue to start piling his plate– and watching him intently.

“It’s-“ Bucky began, and paused, not sure whether to be honest or not. “It’s nice.” He finished lamely, and Tony merely raised an eyebrow at him, as he exchanged one plate for another. “It’s beautifully built.” Bucky tried, and Tony laughed softly, not entirely from humour.

“But it lacks a personal touch?” Tony asked, and the knot in Bucky’s chest twisted right back up again at the sadness behind the smile Tony had. Bucky accepted the plate Tony offered him – not entirely sure of what it contained, but happy to try anything – and nodded after a moment.

“You said it, not me.” Bucky quipped, and grinned when Tony laughed, a genuine one this time. “I like it though. My room’s the size of the downstairs of my Ma’s old place.” Bucky told him, organising a forkful of the dish Tony had handed.

“Is- is she still around?” Tony asked, forcibly off-hand, and Bucky just gave him a sad smile.

“Not for a few years.” Bucky told him, and Tony made a small noise of understanding. “I’ve got my friend and his mother, back in the city.” He said it by way of an offer, a topic of conversation, but Tony didn’t take it. He ate quietly with a thoughtful look on his face, watching Bucky like he was reading a particularly interesting book, occasionally gesturing for Bucky to try a particular dish. The evening remained a quiet affair, until more of the food had been eaten than Bucky had assumed they’d manage, and Tony wished him a quiet good night, before leaving in much the same brisk manner he’d arrived.

It seemed to take a few days for Tony to get used to Bucky’s presence. Bucky found the kitchen on his first morning, and- to Edwin’s amusement- proceeded to make breakfast for both himself and Tony. Tony never questioned it when he took the food to the workshop, like he’d forgotten already that Bucky must’ve done it one-handed.

Something of a routine sprung up within the first two days: he’d wake up confused, heart racing, to Edwin wishing him a good morning. He’d dress – outfit miraculously clean and folded on the chair at the foot of the bed, thankfully still very much his own – and clean himself up before wandering down to the kitchen. He’d spend the morning watching Tony putter about the workshop, and then find himself in the library after lunchtime. He’d leave for dinner, and then find himself there again until the wee hours of the morning, when Edwin would attempt to nudge him to bed.

Dinner after that first night was both less and more – less in terms of food, though Bucky much preferred it, and more in terms of talking. Tony never fucking shut up, and Bucky thought it was great. He’d found that out by asking about the book collection, clarification for some of the terms he’d come across that afternoon, and it was like watching Tony come to life, with the energy that the 19-year-old should have. He lives to learn and teach in turn, Bucky had thought more than once.

He’d been here six full days now, and this was the fourth evening in a row that Tony had sat next to Bucky at the table instead of across from him, plates pushed to the side and pad between them as Tony doodled explanations out, smudges in places from his enthusiastic gestures. Bucky had taken to purposefully going looking for questions, so that he could watch Tony light up like this in an evening. There were moments though, that Tony closed off, and it had taken Bucky until now to realise – someone had been cruel to Tony because of this. Had laughed him off, or begged out of listening to him talk his way through science, history, magic and philosophy alike, as if they were tales as exciting as those him and Stevie read as kids. In many ways they were, because Tony was the one telling him.

Tony, who closed off randomly because someone had taught him not to let people in, who’d lost his family younger than anyone ever should, who’s friends were gone (by what Bucky was starting to think were circumstances beyond Tony’s control): who, more than anything, seemed to want a home, a family.

Bucky had a new mission in life.

He spent the rest of the meal buzzing, and when Tony eventually decided to take his leave, leaving the notepad with Bucky, Bucky decided to forgo his evening in the library. Instead he raced back to his room, and carefully tucked the pad into the drawer of his bedside table.

“Edwin?” he asked the empty room, and sure enough, the butler appeared in the mirror.

“Good evening, James,” Bucky had given up trying to get him to call him by the nickname, “can I help you?”

“Yeah, I was wondering – where does Tony keep gardening stuff?” Bucky asked, as he scrabbled around the desk for the bits of paper and the odd envelope he’d brought with him. He didn’t see Edwin’s reaction to his words, but his voice betrayed his confusion clearly enough.

“The tools the former gardener, Mr Hogan, used to use are still in the shed, but why-?” Bucky turned to him when he’d dug out the envelope he’d been looking for.

“I-“ Bucky began, before realising he was unsure how to explain his sudden, burning desire, to give the genius hidden away in his workshop, a reason to call the mansion home again. “I saw the photo.” He settled on, and the way Edwin’s face fell let Bucky know he knew exactly which photo Bucky meant. “I want- I’m gonna fix it. That sad look in his eyes.” Bucky swallowed, not quite able to meet Edwin’s gaze.

“How do you plan to do that?” Edwin asked him, a hint of a warning in his tone.

“I’m gonna tidy the garden. Ask Steve to send me some of his drawings that I can fill the old frames with. I’m gonna be around. I- I’m gonna give the place the same life Tony has.” Edwin’s face softened, and he smiled at Bucky. “You think I can use some of those tools one handed?”

#winteriron #tony stark #bucky barnes #tony x bucky #thecitylightshow

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