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someoneinthecrowd0757 · 10 months ago

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Misa no Uta is an underrated masterpiece that changes Misa's whole characterization fr fr

Misa no uta is one of the most compelling moments in the entire Death Note series, within one of the most compelling episodes of the series (if not just outright the best).

To cement his return as Kira, Light plans to kill L. Light requires Misa to be at risk for this, throwing her under the bus if the plan fails and REM weren’t to save her but guaranteeing the deaths of L and REM both if it succeeds, and it's very likely to do so.

As Misa walks the streets of Japan, she sings this song to herself and the audience that immediately stands out, being the sole musical number in the series.

The song is about her relationship with Light and Kira, her place by his side as the loyal follower turned God herself. It’s about love, trust, fanaticism and the danger of allowing yourself to know something for a fact or to choose the version of reality that provides you the most happiness, whether it’s the full truth or not. Her powerlessness in the face of what he is is not something she’s ignorant to, and the ways he continually takes advantage of this drain her of life a little further everyday, and yet she wouldn’t give it to anybody else. How could she? She is indebted to him, in her eyes.

“Hold my hand in the dark street for if you do I know that I’ll be safe” Kira saved her. He ensured the death of the man who killed her parents and nearly killed her in one of those dark streets she so fears. Misa never recovered, she ran open armed into the belly of the beast before she could ever begin to do so. By the time the consequences of her actions became clear, and Kira's nature was startlingly apparent, it was too late to attempt to stop this. So she lies to herself, and justifies this all with the guarantee of safety she's been provided.

“Even if I'm far away and alone, I can be sure that you’ll find me there. This, I know.” and this is the indisputable fact of the matter, isn't it? That even if she forgets, surrenders the Death Note and lives her life, it is simply the illusion of control. She knows she’ll be back, she knows she’ll be brought to Light’s side again by herself with no memories of what he turned out to be. Then, even if she isn’t? What becomes of her? Surely Light would never let her simply walk away, and she knows that. So the lies she tells herself are cemented by that, and her fanaticism surrounding Kira becomes a pillar of who she is. For if that is lost, if she doesn’t believe that he is attempting to achieve good anymore, then how can she love him despite the way he treats her?

“You draw me close for a while, so quiet, you tell me everything” at the start they operated somewhat as equals, with Misa having the upper hand of REM on her side. Light does keep her informed, does treat her as an equal (outwardly, at least). Yet once they are imprisoned, once the tide shifts entirely, this changes inalterably and in a way Misa has no time or opportunity to change.

“If i forget what you say then you’ll come to me and tell me again, yes you’ll tell me once again…” This once again is cementing her handling of the aftermath of this shift, her now regaining her memories entirely and seeing the forest for the trees. There is no escape for Misa, and any ticket out was lost before she could do a thing. REM will die, though I don’t know if Misa knows of this at this point. I'm certain she couldn’t have been fully ignorant to it being highly likely, and she will serve Kira until her dying breath. She has made her peace with that long ago, deciding it’s for the greater good and serving the life debt she believes she owes him.

But then there’s the question. The one plaguing her throughout the rest of the series, I’d say–The truth that she continuously makes the conscious decision to avoid looking in the face.

“But what happens when I know it all, what should I do after that? What then?”

This is where the fact that this scene has played out as almost a funeral procession, ending with her standing on the very rooftop where she will eventually meet the answer to her question, cements this as an eerie, gorgeous, perfect scene. Misa will have nothing to live for, is the answer. If all she has done has been in the name of helping a madman who not only doesn’t love her, but actively dislikes her? If this life debt was unwanted, if Kira wasn’t all that good at all? If he’s not a god, if her parents were simply a number amongst the many hundreds of thousands Light kills… then why did she survive any of it? Why is she still here?

I’m also fascinated with the choice to have at what point in time this scene takes place in, be somewhat impossible to fully discern. This is the same outfit, the same sunset, the same ledge that Misa’s story ends with. When she kills herself at the end of the series, is that moment one we’ve long ago witnessed already? Is this meant to indicate that anything of Misa truly died then? Or is this the moment she reflects upon when she makes that fateful walk, years from now? Is this the moment she wishes she could go back to? To change?

In all reality, I truly wish that more of the intricacies to Misa's character that are implied heavily would've been made somewhat more text than they ever are in canon. Many people's opinions of her character are somewhat justified, although I think that some of the way that people react is a tad misogynistic at times as well but the way she exists as a woman in service to Light who wants for nothing and lives for nothing else is, too, in it's nature a misogynistic thing. I think that Misa is fascinating as a character and would be infinitely more fascinating if the subtext heavily implied in this scene were made more canonical than it was.

#misa amane #death note #death note meta #misa no uta #misas song #meta textpost

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amazingmsme · 1 year ago

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your lib hcs were so good omg, do you have any for them as lees? i so need wiggly to be absolutely WRECKED, he’s so cocky and self important all the time, he needs to be taken down a peg fr. plus the fact that he made tickling his whole thing is so perfect for teasing.. “if you don’t enjoy this, why did you make it a part of your brand? it’s like you were thinking about it, like you wanted it!”

OKAY U GAVE US LER!THE LORDS IN BLACK HCS.

…we need the lee! Hcs now 👁👁 /j/nf

Do you have any lee headcanons for the Lords in Black?

Back by popular demand, it’s the lords lees in black! You’ve heard of tickle monsters, now get ready for tickled monsters! Again, this got p long so gonna put it under the cut

All the libs blush their respective colors

Based off the doll designs, all of their tummies are fuzzy & a different color than the rest of their fur, so they’re all pretty ticklish there, some more than others 😉

Pokey

He’s one of the more fun & “chill” lords, so it’s not much of a surprise that he just kinda rolls over & lets his bros wreck his shit

He thinks it’s fun & enjoys the feeling itself as well as the feeling of laughing freely

He has deep, rich laugh that sounds like pure joy itself. If you get him really laughing it can legit shake the room

Because the hivemind is tuned in to him, they know exactly when he’s in a lee mood. They coordinate their attack & take turns tickling him & he lets it happen because he promised them happiness & world peace & if this is what they wanna do he won’t stop them!

His most ticklish spots are his neck & belly because those muscles are most associated with singing (vocal cords & diaphragm) & ribs since they cage the lungs. Oh, & ears. I may be tickle trash, but I try to have some kind of reasoning behind why I headcanon characters as being ticklish certain places

I think Tinky & Wiggly are the ones who tickle him the most because they both have bully energy

Blinky

Funny how they just love watching other people get their shit wrecked but when it’s HIS turn he’s covering his face out of embarrassment

Arguably the most flustered, but Wiggly gives him a run for his money, he’s just more angy about it

Absolutely no idea why, but I’m getting ticklish hands vibes. Probably the long sleeves over the hands

Watcher with a thousand eyes=eyes in the back of his head=ticklish scalp? 👀👀👀

Has a really cute high pitched giggle that’s very bubbly

The shiny leggings & boots draw a lot of attention to the lower body, & it makes me think his worst spots are his hips, knees & feet. & the baggy hoodie makes me feel like his armpits are also up there

Tinky

This unhinged goatman constantly has to be put in his place by his brothers & tickling is the best (& easiest) way to do so

He absolutely provokes them to wreck his shit because he thinks it’s so much fun & he loves to laugh & be silly & make. & he always feels so proud of himself to dragging the rest of them down to “his level” but then they immediately make him regret it… then he does it again an hour later

Very open about how much he loves it, but still gets embarrassed when his brothers tease him about it

He has hooves instead of feet, & if you were to try to buff them up or polish them he’d be such a giggly snorting mess

He has a shrill, hysterical cackle like how he laughs in The Summoning

He has a lil goat tail & if you scratch at the small of his back he arches away with the loudest screech you’ve ever heard

His most ticklish spots are his ears/neck, thighs & knees, & hooves if you use a rough enough touch

His ears are super soft & velvety & if you rub them between your fingers he can’t stop snorting between giggles

Tickling makes him so hyper & excited & his bros have to work extra hard to tide him out

Nibbly

Besides Tinky, he is the happiest & most playful of the lib & always has that classic wide grin plastered on his face. & he has a bright, joyous laugh to match!

Because he has such a big mouth, his laugh is really loud & bombastic. He also has a really cute giggle that’s sweet as honey

Gets really flustered if you use his own techniques & teases against him

Can’t stand tickle bites or raspberries despite how much he loves to dish them out

The fluffy arm sleeves really got me thinking about how it probably tickles him on accident when he moves, especially around his armpits

Even when he’s not tickled, he’s just very giggly

Since his whole thing is eating, his tummy is one of his worst spots. Also his thighs, sides & armpits

Wiggly

What you’ve all been waiting for tbh, am I right?

Biggest fucking lee out of all the lib but is in such hard denial mode. The Tickle Me Wiggly doll was the first step to acceptance & he keeps trying to make excuses for why he chose the name

Like it absolutely could’ve been just a Wiggly doll, no tickling required but he made his choice & stuck with it

Keeps insisting he had to make something unassuming & innocent & all his bros are just like mmmmhmmmm 😏

He’s sooo easy to fluster but be careful, he gets mad when he’s embarrassed. Not his usual scary levels of anger but def pissy

Even tho he loves it he will always try to run away. Gotta keep up appearances

His laugh is shrill & borders on cackling. Sometimes it’s giggly & bouncy & broken up by hiccups like in the middle of Made in America

A very jittery & nervous lee. He laughs in anticipation & curls in on himself & tries to talk himself out of the situation he absolutely put himself in

All of the lords wreck his shit on a regular basis because it’s the only way they can knock him down a peg

Most ticklish spots are of course his belly well, ribs, feet & knees, but he’s basically a walking tickle spot

Hands down the most ticklish out of all the lords in black

Swears up a storm & when tickled. Also some pretty severe sounding threats that he’d never actually carry out

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signanothername · 1 year ago

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*shyly points a mic at you* Your opinion on High Tide?

Short answer? 10/10 would die for him

Long answer and unnecessary analysis?

I LOVE HIM

His episode “Turning the tide” is easily one of my favorites, his introduction is AMAZING like fr it was literally a fucking megabot getting out from beneath the water to rescue a rescue bot??? 10/10 entrance

I MEAN JUST LOOK AT HIM HDHDHDH

Ngl at first I thought he’s a titan before his actual reveal hdhdhhd

His designs, and i mean bot, megabot and alt mode are BEAUTIFUL AND I LOVE ALL OF THEM DEARLY

All that aside, what i love most about him is his personality, like I already have a soft spot for grumpy characters *cough* HW, Ratchat *cough* and he is one of them grumpy beautiful characters, but i think the appeal of his character is enhanced by everything else, like the way he talks sailor style, the fact he’s besties with OP which is pretty interesting and he LITERALLY HAS HIS HELPER BOT SERVO WHICH IS SO ADORABLE

I also find it interesting how he’s so adamant about not changing his ways at the beginning, he’s very resistant to change and that can be for a lot of reasons, but Hightide does give me the vibes of something who witnessed partners and soldiers fall when he was helpless to protect them, he’s the classic case of veteran who’s very strict and harsh but cause he cares deeply

Hightide kinda reminds of tfp Magnus, struggles with adaptation and change, but will do so if it means it’s what’s best for the team he’s on, which we see clearly at the end of his episode, he just needed that extra nudge, an extra perspective in which he sees how that change is positive

I absolutely love his interactions with Heatwave, cause both of them are as grumpy as one can get and neither is up for the other’s bullshit which is hilarious, I do love how they both are really similar in so many ways yet can’t get along for the life of them hdhdhdh

And just like HW, he’s an amazing guy once you get to actually know him beneath all that grumpiness hahaha

What i find even funnier is the fact he’s absolutely up for partying and such, the scene with him literally jumping only to go “Canon ball!!“ in the spirit of All Spark day is everything to me dhhdhd

And can I talk about how much I ADORE the nicknames he uses for everyone?? Comedy gold I could listen to him talk for days

I think Hightide is genuinely a great character, and I’m kinda sad he wasn’t very present in the show, and so far from what i know, no other appearances in other shows which is a bummer, I’d love to see more of him cause from my contact of TF media Hightide is the very first character I’ve seen that’s water based, which makes him unique in my eyes and i think the franchise could use him more

Anyway here, have one of my favorite scenes of him

Grandpa Hightide to the rescue!!! <333

#sorry for rambling hdhdhdgsg #but when i love a character i find it hard to stop talking #anothers ask #ano saves asks

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intertexts · 9 months ago

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HELLOOOO I COME BEARING GIFTS

EPISODE 11 TRIVIA:

- ashe being there surprised dakota so much it broke him somewhat out of his bad mood! in grizzlys words "if he wouldnt have met ashe right then, dakota would have been so much more angry and miserable at the beginning of this episode. he mightve just straight up left. got up and walked away."

- he didnt want to talk to william or vyncent at all, so ashe being there (however unwillingly) as a third party made things easier and almost softened the blow of vyncent yelling at him in the moment

- "why did i dream about william and vyncent being villains in the beginnign and killing summer" ".... i dunno" *cue entire party suspicious WHAT DOES THAT MEAN*

- "i dont trust your characters now" "you have ONE bad dream and our campaign turns into a game of among us"

- william: "hey ashe do you want to run away and write poetry with me?" emo/goth kid solidarity

- this is yakko's (ashes player) first time ever playing a ttrpg !!! fucking wild!! he feels like he needs more practice describing things

- FUN CHARACTER FACTS. I LOVE THESE MORE THAN ANYTHING. BIZLY ASKED EACH OF THEM WHAT KINDS OF MUSIC THEIR CHARACTERS WOULD LISTEN TO.

dakota: breakbeat, old school rap, 90s punk rock. also for shows he would watch it was "cartoons like atla, tmnt and codename kids next door"

william: "indie rock. and on a bad day, evanescence" (god hes just like me fr)

vyncent: "my character doesnt know what music is"

ashe: MY CHEMICAL ROMANCE . also apparently yakko made an ashe winters playlist on spotify and thats actually what they were playing in the episode. i have not found this yet and i desperately want to

- for the spirit world, bizly asked charlie to find him just random pieces of music that he could envision places for and thats how they came up with carnival of souls! there are a handful more places like that that youll see eventually :]

- yakko: "im glad i was able to bring wavelengths threat level down an entire tier just by calling him mark"

- charlie wants william and ashe to hang out in character more because theyre so similar and he thinks they would have a lot to bond over! i love this

- theyre all really excited that they get to go to the spirit world together and it wasnt just an excuse to split the party because they dont want to do that :] (<< i just rlly like this energy)

- grizzly is specifically playing dakota as "not being able to process emotions very well"

ALSO!!!!!!! i dojt know what site or whatever youre using to watch/listen so im hoping they have this on there BUT. the tide backstory oneshot was posted between episodes 12 and 13 so if u wanted to listen to that one now would be a good time !!! its called The Elementals :]

HIII YAYAYAYAYYY!!!! ohh fuck yes a little bowl of seeds for me :333

the dakota & ashe stuff is so goodddd u can rlly tell. it's like yeah you cant be mad and miserable and sulky in front of someone u don't know!! & ashe is just.... so unbothered... i loaf him... he truly did bring the threat level down so fast. went from terrifying supervillain in charge of the Evil Facility to an exhausted pissed off single dad in 1 minute.

+ALL THE MUSIC STUFF IS SO GOOD..... ITS SO GOOD. yelling. vyncent is going 2 end up having the weirdest music taste from hanging out with them. augh... awesome trivia thabk. the energy they have is so fun always....

#thinking ab dakota cole for 1 million years he's so everything 2 mee... auauauaauaaua #+ i DID end up subbing 2 their 5 dolar tier it's a good show id give em more if i wasn't making minimum wage!!! so i DO have the oneshots..#this is so exciting 2 me. tide backstory fuck yeah #anyway HI hope ur having a good nighttttt <33333 #mac tag!#pd lb

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mettywiththenotes · 2 years ago

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Something crazy that's not overt in this current battle in the hospital, but it's a running theme I suppose, is how it's a ...battle of voices? It isn't physical power that will decide how this will end but what voices will be heard:the mutants are finally making their voices heard and are also being responded by Shouji who is trying to make his voice heard and even removing his mask for it, Koda power is in place and it's voice based, Mic is here and he can take over and make it so only his voice will be heard and can eclipse all the other's voices, and finally if Kurogiri hears AFO his programming will make him awake but he will be controled by him since Noumus can only follow commands...I'm beginning to believe that if Kurogiri hears Tenko's voice he will be able to fight his programming unitying his Shirakumo side with his current status, freeing himself from AFO and turning the tides, what do you think?

Yeah I think you're totally right about the voices thing! There's so many voices all at once and it's really a battle (physically and mentally) of who will get through to who first

Personally though, I think the voices thing isn't just limited to this arc. It's what bnha is about

You know, getting through to people. Getting through to the villains. Especially with Izuku and Tomura, Shouto and Dabi, and Ochako and Toga

But it can be found anywhere too. It's in the way Tomura has been crying for help, Dabi talking to Tokoyami about Twice's death, Twice and Hawks, the second license exam and trying to get through to the kids, Izuku vs Class 1A, Ochako speaking to the crowd in the return to UA etc etc

It's really what's been happening this whole time. The story is a conversation between different kinds of people and their ideals and experiences, overlapping in the air until one overcomes the other - like you said, "It isn't physical power that will decide how this will end but what voices will be heard". That applies to the story too I think

Though of course there are big shounen battles which is par for the course of reading shounen lol

But, yes, that definitely also includes this plot line centered on heteromorphs - a topic that has been talked about and touched on in the past, but has now come back into focus. EXTREMELY important, given the fact that it's a topic with a ton of different experiences all in one area (Spinner and Shouji being from villages and suffering from discrimination, Kouda being from the city implying that he has faced little to no discrimination despite being a heteromorph himself, PLF general talking about heteromorph massacre in history, the Heroes in the middle of the battle who haven't gone through anything like that)

And this arc is also a little more specific in the use of voices. I mean, like you said, we have two voice-based quirks in the battle (Mic and Kouda, interesting), then there's Shouji removing his mask and speaking about his experiences and wants for the future, but there's also the PLF general announcing to the mob and stirring everyone up, and AFO (the voice inside Spinner's mind - even if just in a memory, it's still a voice and it is influencing/controlling Spinner)

About Kurogiri; I don't know how exactly he would hear AFO's voice or how he would hear Tomura's voice (whether they personally go over to the hospital or it's some kind of mind connection thing idk, though yeah if it does happen, they definitely tie into the voice thing too)

BUT I fr have been thinking the same thing, about the Kurogiri side (warp, memories of villainy, loyalty to Tomura) merging with his Shirakumo side (the boy who wanted to be a hero, the boy who loved his friends and saved a kitten) and THAT being how he frees himself from the control and turning the tides

LIKE?? I'd fucking love that. I honestly think something like that is going to happen at some point, whether it's this arc or not. The Villain side combining with a Heroes heart and choosing to, idk, help the situation with the Heroes or specifically help Tomura and/or the League? Maybe both in some way?

I think it'd be so cool

Again, I'm not sure about how exactly Kurogiri would hear AFO and Tomura, but Kurogiri combining both sides of him to somehow help the situation would be a real tide changer that's for sure

#i really hope i answered this okay #sorry im kinda going 'Actually The Bigger Picture Is' on you in this #but #my hot take is that It's All About Connecting so #*shrugs*#but yeah those are my thoughts #thank you for the ask!😊#asks with metty #bnha asks #bnha 371

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audreysjensens-blog · 6 years ago

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“amazing.” {audrey jensen imagine}

heyyy my babies!!! here’s something to tide you over before the next bi-curious and the virgin. if i get enough requests for a second part i’ll make it!

~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Tom Holland. Bar none,” Noah said, leaning into the couch and shrugging his shoulders. “Most accurate Spider-Man.”

It was just past ten o’clock at one of Brooke’s Halloween extravaganza parties, and clearly your group of friends was getting increasingly heated. With open booze available on every surface and the closest people in your life around you, you had never felt safer or happier, giggling at Noah and Jake’s argument.

“But Tobey Maguire!” Jake cried, leaping up on the couch and almost crushing Brooke under his sneakers. “Tobey. Maguire. He’s the original!”

“Canon-wise, he blows!”

“Take it back!”

“Guys!” Audrey yelled, halfway between laughing so hard she was snorting and supreme annoyance. She feigned waving her arms in an attempt to get them to calm down, but then finished with a, “What about Andrew Garfield?”

You tipped your head back and snorted as Jake and Noah leapt back into action, missing Audrey’s initial look back to you. You missed the beginning of her staring, tracing along the column of your neck, wondering what would happen if she got her lips on it.

But you did catch the end of it. Your eyes locked, she turned away with a timid laugh, and your blush started to overtake your face. Of course, you were assuming you were overthinking it, and she was probably just seeing some sort of piece of string from your clothes on your collarbone. Audrey, on the other hand, was kicking herself for her leering; just because she sometimes liked to look at you didn’t make you anything other than straight, which was what she presumed, and falling for a straight girl was precisely at the bottom of her list.

Emma, sensing obvious tension between you and Audrey, cleared her throat loudly to get all of the attention on her. “Everyone. It cannot be a party without some classic party games, which is why I have…” she reached into her pocket, producing a silver coin.

“This.”

Immediately, hoots and hollers erupted from the crowd, and you leaned into the circle, crossing your legs and preparing for the game to begin. Audrey, on the other hand, started to lean back and raised her hand weakly. “How does this work?” she said, looking more to you than Emma.

“Okay,” you said, blushing again at the prospect of being so close to Audrey’s ear in the loud room. “So, one person whispers a question to the other, and the answerer says their answer out of context to the group out loud. Then someone flips the coin. If it’s heads, the person who asked the question gets to say it out loud, which kind of lets up the secret behind the person’s answer.”

“Ah, I get it,” Audrey said, tapping you on the shoulder in thanks. “Thanks.”

You tilted your chin in a you’re welcome motion, moving to settle back in your spot next to Emma, when Audrey looked at you again, and you got so caught up in her eyes, and her cheekbones, and the way her hair swooped over her forehead, and God, her lips-

“Y/N?” You realized that you’d completely been sitting in silence, missing her question.

“Sorry, sorry, just zoned out for a second,” you mumbled, internally kicking yourself at your momentary check-out of one of your friends. God, she probably wasn’t even interested, you thought to yourself. Just because someone might be into girls doesn’t mean they’re into you.

“It’s okay, relax,” Audrey giggled, leaning back onto her spot with Noah. “I just- your face is kinda red. You okay?” she asked, gesturing to her general visage.

Oh. Fuck. She noticed.

“I’m fine!” you spluttered out, a little too fast to be perfectly plausible. “I, just, uh. Drinking does that,” you said, despite the fact that your obviously full cup cancelled out that statement. What you meant to say was you do that. You make me blush like crazy and I look like a red mess. It’s all because of you.

“Okay!” Emma yelled out, making everyone in the immediate vicinity quit their conversations and join the circle, turned towards Emma and waiting for her to make the prime first move.

At first, you thought that she was turning towards Brooke on her other side, giving you enough time to prepare yourself, but then she was turning towards you, whispering the first question into your ear. In turning to her to focus on what she was saying, you missed Noah’s insignificant slap on Audrey’s arm and his whispered, “Jealous?”

“Alright,” Emma whispered, still giggling. “How long has it been since… You kissed someone? And did you like it or not?”

You didn’t want to answer that. Especially in front of Audrey- She probably thought you were another one of those useless straight girls. You weren’t completely out, but you weren’t straight, either.

You looked across the circle, and, seeing Noah whispering into Audrey’s ear and her giving him a half-playful half-angry slap, decided Fuck it.

“Four years. And no, I didn’t,” you announced proudly to the circle, a second before your embarrassment rushed in and you pulled your jacket higher up your neck to cover the splotchy blush.

Everyone leaned in as Emma slowly went to flip the coin, you praying to every god you knew to please, please let this answer remain unknown, I didn’t think it through, when the coin came flying back down.

Heads. Up.

Fuck.

“The question was, when was the last time you kissed someone, and did you enjoy it!” Emma shouted cheerfully, and as the crowd put the pieces together, laughter and cheers for you rung throughout the room. Panicking and not really sure what to do, you started to bring your drink to your lips, only to have the cup slosh all over the front of your jacket.

“Shit!” you exclaimed, sure that your face was preparing to get even more supremely flushed. Standing up, you raced upstairs and into Emma’s room and, realizing you forgot a towel, walked into the bathroom.

You started running the water, dunking the towel under and trying to get the stain out before it set, and trying to get your heart under control. You hadn��t even looked up to see what Audrey looked like, let alone if she reacted at all to your running aw-

“Y/N?”

Instantaneously, the voice coming from right behind you shocked you into dunking your sleeve-covered arm under the faucet. Turning around, you were met with the wide and regretful (but, as you could attest to, attentive) eyes of Audrey Jensen.

“I’m so sorry! Oh my God,” Audrey mumbled, reaching behind her to grab another towel. “I’m so, so sorry. That’s my bad-“

“Audrey. It’s okay,” you said, half-sighing and half-laughing as you started to shrug off your jacket, masking your nervousness around Audrey with the ruined coat. “I’ll just leave it here until I leave. It’s too damp to wear.”

You started to pull your jacket off of your shoulders, revealing your crop top underneath and accidentally exposing your midriff, which, she would also claim accidentally, Audrey was completely transfixed with, pulling her eyes up only when she realized you were turning around.

Hanging up the jacket on the outside of the door, Audrey and you both stepped out of the bathroom and onto the landing above the stairs, leaning against it and hearing the muffled music blare in from downstairs. You could feel Audrey’s eyes on you in the half-darkness, and before she could, you spoke.

“Thanks for coming to check on me,” you said, looking over the railing.

“It’s no problem,” she said, turning so that her back was pressed against the metal rail, trying her hardest to make her voice come out even at the proximity to you.

There was a tepid silence between you two again, when you spoke up.

“Four years is a long time,” you said, letting out a low whistle. “I can’t believe I admitted that. I should’ve lied.”

Audrey turned to you then, concern written over all of her features, and placed a hand on your arm. You stared, almost bug-eyed at the warmth and contact, when you realized that she was still speaking. Damn it, Y/L/N, you thought to yourself. You really so touch starved you won’t listen to your friend?

“Hey, at least the truth is out there,” she said, laughing. “Although, I’ve got to say I’m kind of surprised. A lot of people talk about you.” Like me, to Noah, she thought, but definitely was going to keep to herself.

“If it’s guys, I don’t exactly care anymore,” you said, leaning over the banister and letting out another long, long sigh. You didn’t care enough to really keep it a secret anymore; your parents knew, and so did Emma and Brooke. Audrey might as well, even being someone who was into girls and wasn’t ashamed of it.

Audrey froze, feeling time almost move in slow motion as she looked over at you, confusion painted on your face. “You’re…”

“Not straight? No,” you stated, tossing your hands up in the air. “Technically, that kind of prevents my first kiss from being valid.”

Again, Audrey felt between freaking out in ecstasy and elation and empathy. It was tough to come out to anyone, she knew, remembering back to when she told her father. And to have never kissed anyone you felt anything for? She couldn’t imagine.

“Well,” she said, leaning down and taking your hand, at which you felt close to blacking out. “Thanks for… You know. Telling me. It’s not easy.”

“Thanks,” you whispered dizzily, leaning most of your weight on the balcony again.

In a blinding second, an idea occurred to Audrey; Was it crazy? Yes. Was it absolutely batshit insane? Yes. Yes.

But did she want to? Yes.

“Look,” Audrey said, removing her hand from yours and crossing it over your chest. Her voice was close to wavering, her trying her hardest to keep it at a steady and confident level. “I know that neither of us really drink, besides what your jacket soaked up tonight, so I wouldn’t be offering if we had. But, if you want to experience your first ever gay kiss, I’d be completely down.”

You whipped over to her, trying as you might to maintain your composure. Did she just… You were keeping your hands from shaking and easily saying yes, yes, please.

Looking up at her, you made the decision before your brain could catch up with your mouth.

“Let’s do it.”

Audrey, for one, was completely blown away at the literal second it took you to answer. And, before she could really think it through, she took your hand, said “Follow me,” and led you into Brooke’s guest bedroom, slamming the door behind her with her foot. At the loud bang, you sat back on the bed and giggled, looking up through your hand at the girl you were definitely going to make out with.

Audrey walked over and sat next to you, and the panic set in you again. To squash it, you leaned over and looped your arms around Audrey’s neck, slinging your leg over hers and effectively straddling her waist on the bed.

“Is this how we’re gonna do this?” you said, worried at her momentary lack of response.

“Yes, yes, sorry,” she said, her arms snaking around and settling on your waist, causing your blush to creep back in and return. “You just… surprised me is all.”

“Well, get used to it,” you mumbled out nervously, voice cracking all the way at the close distance you were from her. You weren’t expecting much; maybe another a speech about how it was okay to be gay, but all you really wanted was-

“Maybe I will,” came Audrey’s confident voice, her deep blue eyes sinking into yours as she leaned in and started pressing kisses to your neck. You lost eye contact the second that you involuntarily let your head fall back, leaning in and so responsive to her touch that a warm feeling started to rise up in your stomach.

You got lost in the moment, your hands rushing up and running your fingers through her short, dark hair as she started to focus in on a spot on your neck that made you shiver. It felt-

“Amazing,” you moaned breathily, involuntarily snapping back to yourself and bringing a hand back to cover your mouth. Audrey, on the other hand, caught it before it could reach your lips and placed it back on the back of her neck.

“It’s okay to touch me,” she whispered to you. “It’s okay… And don’t think I don’t wanna hear you. It’s hot.”

Hearing her say that was something else; you felt your blush rise back up into your chest, and she watched as your eyes flicked back up to hers, half-smile glowing in the dim lights. “I’ve always thought your blush was cute,” she mumbled, brushing a stray piece of hair behind your ear. “Never thought I’d see it up close though. It’s even better.”

She slowly reached down and started pressing her lips to your collarbone, your neck column, the underside of your jaw, the sensitive place behind your ear…

Then she stopped, and your eyes fluttered back open to find her inches away from your lips. You were suddenly so aware of where you were; straddling Audrey, your thighs on either side of her legs and her hands on your exposed midriff, when she leaned in.

And everything faded away.

It started slow, but with no lack of intensity. You brought your hand up to cup her face, pressing your lips to hers again and again and again, that swooping feeling returning in your stomach. All that you knew was that you had to be close to her, pressing your chest to hers and sighing as she slowly sucked your bottom lip into her mouth.

Before you even realized you were doing it, you were fiddling with the buttons on her shirt, undoing the first two before she pulled back.

“Is this okay with you?” she said, starting to unbutton them herself, when you stopped her hands.

“More than okay.”

She grinned back into the kiss, shifting your face from side to side as her kisses got more languid and long, hands moving all over your body as you finally finished the column of buttons on her shirt and slid it off of her shoulders. She took the lead from you then, never breaking the kiss, but tossing her shirt to the floor, giving you an incredible look at her toned arms and exposed collarbones.

You spent a second admiring the view in front of you before you both started up again, you leaning down and, with a little help from Audrey, pulling off your tank top to leave you both in just your bras.

Skin to skin felt unnameable; as Audrey laid you down and your tongue lightly swept into her mouth, you felt her lower back get warmer as she emitted a low whine. Unable to keep yourself from smiling, you leaned in again and matched her grin as you both started to ramp up. Her hands were on your face and under your skirt and yours were tracing a patch of skin on her back that she really, really seemed to like, going off what sounds she made when you traced your fingers over it.

Lost in the frantic touching and heated kisses, Audrey flipped you two over so that your back was on the bed, then dipped her hand under your thigh to sling your leg over the back of her so there was no place the two of you weren’t touching. Your mouths got more and more fervent at the same pace as your hands, her tongue sweeping into your mouth with your happily granted access, and one of her legs, between yours, moved up and brushed against you; you didn’t know if it was intentional, but it was surprising in the best way, and you involuntarily let out a loud moan, and-

“Audrey? Where are you?” came a voice accompanied by a loud bang of the door again, revealing Noah standing in the doorway. You quickly scrambled away from Audrey and grabbed a pillow to cover your exposed chest as he spluttered out an apology, panic-stricken and practically sprinting back out the door.

When the coast was clear and Noah-free, you realized that Audrey’s hand was still on your thigh, and you smiled, looking up at her as you both broke into giggles.

When that subsided, she spoke again, almost as if not to spook you.

“So…”

“Yeah,” you responded, fiddling with the throw pillow in front of your chest. “That was… Something.”

A silence fell between you again, before she spoke up.

“You know, if you’d ever like to do this again, maybe we could… I don’t know. Go out or something before?”

Your heart rushed with fondness at the girl in front of you, face so hopeful and, at the same time, a little scared, that your answer seemed to almost fall out of your mouth.

“I’d love that.”

#audrey jensen #audrey jensen x reader #audrey jensen imagine #audrey jensen imagines #scream mtv #scream fic

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the-bookwyrm · 6 years ago

Text

See My Future Coming (Like the Rising of the Tide) - Chapter 2

Vanya begins to gather together the things that she needs for the Plan.

...

Hey everyone! I hope that you enjoy the second chapter! I’ll be reblogging it with an ao3 link and a link to the first chapter in just a bit.

Chapter Two: the beating of our hearts is the only sound

Vanya’s the first to breakfast. Back in the actual past, that wouldn’t have been too surprising. She’s always been a light sleeper, and it was usually either she or Klaus who were the first ones down. She’d liked to help Mom with breakfast; it was the only meal the seven of them were allowed to eat alone, without their dad, in the kitchen. It had always felt like something of an oasis before the rest of the day hit them.

Today it’s because she hadn’t been able to fall back asleep. She’d sat out on the fire escape for a long time, and although she’d eventually made her way back inside, sleep hadn’t come. So, about thirty minutes before her alarm would have gone off, Vanya had turned it off and gotten up. Even now, getting ready for the day is etched into her muscle memory, and it hadn’t taken her long at all to get downstairs. She’d made her way down the back stairs, and let herself sit down on them when she’d seen Mom humming in the kitchen.

Mom. How could she have forgotten Mom? Her complicated feelings about Mom and her creator didn’t matter, not really; she was still Vanya’s mom, the only one who had ever really loved her violin; who’d encouraged her every step of the way; who’d helped her pack even though Vanya could tell that she hadn’t wanted her to go.

Vanya loves her, and she'd barely had time to miss her after she'd died—after she'd been killed by those two weirdos who had attacked the Academy—and now here she is, alive again. Like nothing had ever happened.

Vanya wipes away her tears and makes her way into the kitchen before Mom can see her crying on the stairs.

“Mom?”

Mom turns around from the stove and smiles at Vanya happily. “Darling! Good morning! I’m so glad that you’re awake; we were all very worried when you were asleep for so long. Your father almost postponed his trip! Let me check your temperature.” Vanya holds still as her mom places a hand on her forehead, the sensors in her palm buzzing as they read the temperature of Vanya’s skin.

“What trip, Mom? And how long was I asleep?”

“Oh silly, don't you remember? He's on a business trip this weekend! He'll be arriving home tomorrow.” Mom smiles at Vanya and smooths a hand over her hair. “You’ve been sleeping since lunch the day before yesterday, but your temperature is back within your normal range, darling, so you should be just fine!”

“Thanks, Mom; I’m feeling much better today, I promise. Um, actually…” Mom places her hands on Vanya’s shoulders and smiles down at her, and it gives Vanya the courage to keep going. “I was hoping that I could help you make breakfast today? If that’s okay, I mean.”

“If you’re feeling up to it, I would love the help! I was thinking pancakes today; does that sound good, dear?”

Vanya smiles at her. “That sounds great, Mom.”

…

Forty-five minutes later Vanya hears a herd of elephants making its way down the stairs, and knows that her time is up; it’s the moment of truth.

Her siblings burst into the kitchen, all of them panicked-looking, and Vanya knows. They’ve all come into the past with her, and when she wasn’t in her room this morning, they freaked out.

They all pause as they make their way into the kitchen, and it feels like time freezes as they stare her down.

She knows that they’re wondering if she came back, or if it’s truly her child self standing in the kitchen. That they’re wondering if she’s planning to attack them again.

Vanya stares back at them, sweeping her eyes over them as they stand in a row; taking in the faces that she hasn’t seen all together in seventeen years.

Luther is watching her warily, and Vanya can tell that he’s waiting for her to make a move; prove that she’s just as ready to attack now as she was in the future. Diego has one hand behind his back, and she knows that he’s holding a knife in a ready position. Allison has tears in her eyes and a hand over her mouth, and although she looks happy, Vanya can’t help wondering if she’s worried about losing her voice again; about going through that pain.

Five is eyeing her, but his face is blank in a way that is familiar despite their long separation; Vanya knows he’s running calculations in his mind, trying to be ready for however the attack might come; ready to jump out of the way. Klaus is smiling at her, but it’s not really a happy smile. And he’s holding someone’s hand—

And she looks over and she sees—Ben. Ben, her second favorite brother after Five; Ben who she’s been mourning for almost twelve years now; and she knows that this will prove that she came back, that she’s blowing her cover, but she doesn’t care because right there is—

“Ben! You’re here!”

She doesn’t move to him, though, because at her words all of her siblings look even more tense, and she doesn’t want to make things worse. So she smiles at him instead; does her best to make it as sincere as possible, and says, “I’m so glad to see you.”

Ben smiles back at her, although she can tell it’s a little tight, and nods. He doesn’t let go of Klaus’s hand, and he doesn’t step towards her. No one else says anything.

Vanya has no way of knowing how long the standoff would have lasted if Mom hadn’t stepped in. “Well, sillies, don’t just stand in the door! Come sit down; eat some pancakes! Your sister and I made them especially for you today.” Luther looks a little alarmed at that, and Vanya is a bit relieved to see that he’s the only one. Everyone makes their way to the table and sits down to eat.

There’s a tense silence at the breakfast table, and although Vanya keeps her head down she can feel her siblings staring at her. They seemed puzzled, almost, as to why she hasn’t confronted them, or freaked out, or tried to bring the house down. She snorts under her breath, and pretends not to notice when that small sound makes them all jerk their heads up to look at her.

Finally breakfast is over, and they all take their dishes up to the sink and wash them, one by one. She thinks this might be the surest proof that they all came back with her—it used to be that they’d fight to not have to do their dishes, or they’d make excuses about training and leave them all for Vanya and Mom to do. But they do it without arguing; without even talking about it.

Vanya smiles, very slightly, to herself. She’s last in line, and when it’s her turn she bends her head over the sink and very studiously ignores her siblings’ hissed whispers behind her. They fall silent as soon as she turns around, and after another long, tense silence Mom turns around to smile at all of them.

“All right children, it’s time for your morning classes!”

…

Vanya does not have class with the others. With the knowledge she now possesses, she knows that it’s one more way her father was separating her from the others; making sure she was beaten down and unquestioning. Mom teaches her, usually, and Pogo teaches the others, although they do switch quite often, depending on the subject, and also on how rowdy her siblings are being on any given day. Mom usually handles them better when they’re rowdy.

It’s been a long time since Vanya learned most of this material, but it’s easy enough to fall back into the routine, and she was always quiet, anyway. Even so, when classes end, Vanya takes the out gratefully. Just because she can do the material doesn’t mean that it’s fun to do so.

Normally, she would spend the hour before lunch on Sundays exercising, but since she's just woken up from her “illness,” Mom excuses her to go practice her violin instead. She flees quickly, moving back to the somewhat dubious safety of her small room.

However, once she’s in her room with the door shut and the violin case in front of her on the bed, she hesitates. She knows, logically, that the violin won’t be white. It’ll be the same warm brown it’s been her entire life, and it won’t have any blood on it, and everything will be fine.

But what if it’s not?

What if playing it triggers something that she can’t stop, now that she knows the truth?

So, in the end, she puts the case under her bed without opening it and takes a nap instead.

…

Lunch is just as quiet as breakfast was, it turns out. None of Vanya’s siblings are taking the opportunity to talk, even with their dad gone, and instead seem to be content to exchange glances whenever they're not staring at her or eating. Vanya keeps her head down, as she did at breakfast, and refuses to look at them. She's so grateful that their dad isn't here.

She has no idea how she'd react, coming face to face with him for the first time in years, now that she knows the truth. She’s glad she won’t have to find out.

After the very, very awkward lunch, Pogo comes to collect them all for their study time. They always spent the hour or so after lunch in the library, studying or working on their homework, before the others went to classes and training, and Vanya to more classes by herself.

Study time today is even more awkward than lunch, impossible as that had seemed. None of them care about the homework—they're adults long grown up and out of this house—and Pogo and Mom leave them alone to attend to their own duties, which means that they're alone together for the first time since Vanya woke up.

All of which means that Vanya isn't surprised when she looks up from her book to see all six of her siblings staring at her, not even bothering to pretend to be studying. She sighs and puts her book down; it's very obvious she won't get to keep reading it.

“What do you remember, Vanya?” Five's voice is brisk, matter of fact, which almost hides the fact that his hands are tightly clenched into fists.

Vanya studies them all one more time before sighing again. “I remember everything, up until I passed out.” She frowns, then adds, “You don't need to worry, though. I'm not going to attack you.”

“How can we believe you?” Luther scoffs, and Vanya is surprised to see Allison whack him on the arm.

Vanya shrugs in response. “I guess you can't? I can't prove that I won't; all I can do is promise that I'm telling the truth.” She shifts in her seat, wrapping her arms around herself and glancing down. At least it looks like her siblings will help her with the plan tonight; all of them seem to be suspicious of her, which will work out pretty well.

“I believe you,” Allison says forcefully, and smiles at Vanya brightly. “And we're all very glad that you're awake!”

Vanya is a little surprised to see the others all nod in agreement, but she supposes that knowing she’s her adult self is a relief to them, even if they did end up with the Vanya that ended the world. After all, this saves them the awkwardness of trying to figure out how to tell young Vanya what the hell is going on.

“Well…thanks, I think?” Vanya drums her fingers on her book for a minute before scanning her siblings’ faces and sighing again. “I know you guys want to talk, but can we just…wait?”

Luther looks almost offended. “Vanya, we need to deal with this—”

“I know!” Vanya cries, closing her eyes tightly and taking a deep breath in before opening them. “I know,” she continues softly, “but I just woke up this morning and I need to think. Please.”

Allison is the one who answers her again, after sending a quick glare around the group. “Of course you can have some time to think, Vanya.”

Vanya sighs in relief. “Thank you.” She pauses, then makes herself continue. She has to go forward with her plan, for the good of everything. “Will all of you meet me tonight, in the conservatory, at eleven?”

They all nod, but Five is the one who meets her eyes squarely and answers aloud, “We'll be there.”

…

On Sundays, Vanya’s siblings have group training all afternoon. Since Dad is gone, Pogo is leading them, which means that she won't have to deal with them until dinner at least; Pogo doesn’t usually use her in their training. And since her dad's gone, she has a little more freedom than she usually does, which is why she makes her way over to her mom right away.

“Mom?” Mom is finishing up a batch of cookie dough, a special treat they usually got on Sundays, and she turns to Vanya and smiles.

“Vanya! What can I help you with, dear? Are you feeling poorly again?”

Vanya shakes her head quickly. “No, Mom, I just was hoping for a favor?”

Mom sets the bowl down and leans down to look Vanya in the eye. “What favor, darling?”

“I wanted to go to the corner store and buy marshmallows. I noticed we were running low, and I was hoping to make sandwiches soon. And it's such a lovely day outside…” Vanya lets herself trail off and fidget hopefully, staring into her mom's eyes before looking down and blushing. Her mom looks at her for another moment, then turns and looks at the shelf, where a visibly full bag of marshmallows is sitting. Vanya tries not to blush harder.

She remembers doing this when she'd been an actual child, when she hadn't been out of the Academy in so long she thought she might actually explode from staring at the same things every day. Her mother had almost always let her get away with it, and she hopes that she'll do the same today.

Finally, Mom smiles at her again and pats her head precisely three times, just like always, and Vanya lets herself relax. “Alright, darling. Let me just go get some change for you; after all, we most certainly don't want to run out of marshmallows!”

…

Vanya makes her way down the street, watching the people around her as she goes. None of them know what’s coming; what she’ll do to them. And, if everything goes correctly tonight, they never will. So she buys what she needs from the corner store, and hurries back to the academy. After letting her mom know she’s back, Vanya heads to her room, where she’s supposed to practice her violin.

However, just like before lunch, she can’t stand the thought of opening the case. Instead, she hides the bag from the store under her bed and makes her way up to the roof. She doesn’t go into the greenhouse—that was always Luther and Allison’s space—instead making her way over to a patch of sunlight near the edge of the roof, laying down in it and closing her eyes.

She hasn’t taken her pills since waking up in the past, and so she decides that she’s going to take this chance to do something she only got to do a bit in the future: she’s going to listen.

She’s pretty sure that without the pills her hearing is better than most people’s; not that she’d had much of a chance to find out, in the future, what with everything going on. And she won’t have much of a chance to try later, either, so now’s as good a time as any.

So she keeps her eyes closed and she listens.

…

A few hours later, Vanya is completely sure that her hearing is better than anyone’s should be, and also sure that she has no idea what her range even is, a conclusion she comes to after realizing she is eavesdropping on a conversation between two flight attendants on a plane that is in flight at the time.

The problem, she’s finding, is that even after she finds a sound, she can’t concentrate on it. She can hear so much now that when she’s not in the middle of a life-threatening situation or a panic attack she can’t concentrate on just one sound. As soon as she finds something interesting to listen to, something else catches her attention. And she has no way of judging distance, either; for all she knows, she could be listening to a conversation across the street or one across the city. She suspects being out in the forest the first time helped quite a bit, as there weren’t as many sounds screaming for her attention; screaming for her to use them.

Even so, she finds that she’s enjoying herself. Part of it, of course, is that she still hasn’t taken a pill yet, so she’s experiencing some true emotions. The rest of it is because the longer she works at this, the more relaxed she feels, like she’s had a stiff muscle and is stretching it out for the first time. Like it’s a limb she should have been using her whole life.

She also thinks that she might be lucky, because she’s pretty sure that unless she’s actively trying to listen for sounds, her hearing is just a little better than normal—she hadn’t had much trouble in the future with it, anyway.

She stops, eventually, once she gets tired of hearing snippets of conversation and news and dogs barking and everyday city sounds. She's pretty sure she even caught some noise from inside the Academy, too, but she did her best not to listen to it. She doesn’t need to risk anything setting her off before tonight.

And once she's done she heads back inside, back to her room, where she finishes getting ready for the plan.

…

Dinner is a little better than the previous meals of the day; now that they feel they have something of a plan, her siblings don’t seem to be as on edge as they were earlier; aren’t as concerned that she’ll attack them at any second. It’s…well. It’s actually almost nice. With their dad gone, they’re not reprimanded for talking, so the low murmur of conversation fills the room. And since they all look so young right now, Vanya is filled with a sense of nostalgia. She can’t imagine what Five is feeling; how much more intense this must be for him, to see all of his siblings the same age they were when he left.

She tries to enjoy it; tries to enjoy the food and the company without thinking about the underlying tension; without letting herself remember exactly why they’re here; and it almost works.

Chores after dinner go…about as well as they ever did, honestly. None of them enjoy doing them, but then again, they never did in the first place either, and at least if Vanya’s siblings are keeping busy they’re not panicking, which is all to the good, as far as Vanya is concerned.

And then, finally, finally, it’s time for bed. Vanya brushes her teeth and puts on her pajamas in a bit of a rote daze; she knows that if she panics everything will go very badly, so she refuses to let herself panic. Her siblings move around her, in and out of the bathrooms and each others’ rooms, all of them keeping an eye on her as she moves down the hallway to her own room.

She shuts the door behind her before getting into the bed and waiting. Mom always came to say goodnight to them, and Vanya wants to say goodnight to her too.

She comes in at 9:30, after knocking three times on the door, as always. “Hello, darling. How are you feeling?” Sitting on the side of the bed, she places her hand on Vanya’s forehead to take her temperature again.

“I’m fine, Mom,” Vanya says, staring at Mom’s perfect, unchanging face. Maybe she doesn’t have any real emotions, maybe Diego’s right and she has grown past her programming, but either way, Grace deserves better than what she’s had all these years. “Mom, I love you. You know that, right?”

Her mom’s face goes blank for a moment, and when she smiles again it’s smaller than normal; a little more real. “And I love you too, dear.” She bends down and kisses Vanya on the forehead, and Vanya closes her eyes and allows herself to soak in the affection one more time.

#the umbrella academy #the umbrella academy fanfiction #umbrella academy #umbrella academy fanfiction #vanya hargreeves #tua fanfiction #tua #tua ficlet #ficlet #my fic #see my future coming (like the rising of the tide)#smfc #smfc ch2

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pamphletstoinspire · 5 years ago

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THE NATIVITY OF SAINT JOHN THE BAPTIST by Fr. Francis Xavier Weninger, 1877

In the holy Gospel, the nativity of St. John the Baptist, who was the forerunner of Christ, is described by the inspiration of the Holy Ghost, not only for our instruction, but also that we may rejoice in the Lord our God. In the mountains of Judaea, at Hebron, eight miles from Jerusalem, lived Zachary and Elizabeth. They were just people, and lived in accordance with the commandments of God, but had no children, although they had prayed for them many years. The great age which they had attained, naturally gave them no longer any hope of issue. But still they continued their prayer. One day, when Zachary, who was a priest, offered incense in the Temple at Jerusalem, he saw at the right side of the altar, an angel, whose appearance filled the pious old man with fear and trembling. The angel, however, said to him: ” Fear not, Zachary, for thy prayer is heard. Elizabeth, thy wife, shall bear thee a son, and thou shalt call his name John. He shall bring thee joy and gladness, and many shall rejoice in his nativity. He shall be great before the Lord and shall drink no strong drink, and he shall be filled with the Holy Ghost even from his mother's womb. He shall convert many of the children of Israel to the Lord their God: and he shall go before Him in the spirit and power of Elias: that he may turn the hearts of the fathers unto the children, and the incredulous to the wisdom of the just, to prepare unto the Lord a perfect people.”

Zachary listened with great astonishment: the angel's promise seemed to him to be out of the course of nature. Hence, he said: “Whereby shall I know this? For, I am an old man, and my wife is advanced in years.” The angel answered: “I am Gabriel, who stand before God, and I am sent to speak to thee and bring thee these good tidings. And behold, thou shalt be dumb and not able to speak until the day wherein these things shall come to pass, because thou hast not believed my words, which shall be fulfilled in their time.” After this the angel disappeared, and Zachary, mute from that hour, returned home after he had discharged his priestly functions.

The words of the Archangel Gabriel came to pass. Elizabeth conceived and gave praise and thanks to God that He had removed from her the disgrace of being barren. Six months later, the Most High sent the angel Gabriel to the blessed Virgin, at Nazareth, to announce to her that she should become the mother of the long expected Messiah. He at the same time informed her that her cousin Elizabeth, although she was old and barren, had conceived a son, as to God nothing was impossible. After Mary had resigned herself with deep humility to the will of the Almighty, and become the mother of the Son of God, she went into the mountains of Judaea, to the house of Elizabeth and Zachary. She did not go to see if the angel's words in regard to Elizabeth were true, but to congratulate her happy cousin, and render her such services as she would need. The Gospel assures us that when the Virgin Mother entered the dwelling of Zachary and greeted Elizabeth, John, the yet unborn child, leaped for joy in his mother's womb, as soon as Mary's words of salutation reached Elizabeth's ear, and Elizabeth herself was filled with the Holy Ghost. This leaping of the unborn Saint, was, according to the holy fathers, a sign that John, by special favor of the Almighty, knew the Saviour, yet concealed from the eyes of the world, and rejoicing in His presence, adored Him. Hence they teach that John was at that moment cleansed from original sin and filled with the Holy Ghost, and thus fulfilled the words of the angel and was sanctified in the womb of his mother.

At length came the time when he was to see the light of day, and Elizabeth gave birth to him whom the angel had promised and prophesied. When the neighbors and relatives heard how gracious God had been to Elizabeth, they all went to see her and congratulate her. On the eighth day the child was circumcised according to the law. As children, on this occasion, received a name, the relatives wished to give him that of his father, but Elizabeth opposed it, saying: ” John is his name!” “But there is none among thy kindred that is called by this name,” said her friends. Elizabeth, however, remained inflexible. Turning to the still mute Zachary, they desired to know how he would have him called. Zachary asked for a writing-table and wrote; “John is his name.” And at the same time his speech returned, and filled with the Holy Ghost, he gave thanks to God in the beautiful hymn which is one of the daily prayers of the Church, and begins: ” Blessed be the Lord God of Israel; for he hath visited and wrought the redemption of his people.” All those present marvelled at these events, praised God, and spread among the people all that they had heard and seen, and concluded from it that the new-born child was destined to be great among them. Hence they said to each other: “What do you think shall this child be? for the hand of the Lord is with him.”

Thus writes St. Luke, in his gospel, of the nativity of St. John, and then adds that, “he grew and was strengthened in spirit;” and was in the desert until the day of his manifestation to Israel, by his preaching and baptizing.

Several holy fathers write that Elizabeth fled with her child into the desert, to conceal herself from the cruelties of king Herod; and that John was nourished and kept either by an angel or in some other manner by divine Providence. Others write that, in his third or at most in his fifth year, he had voluntarily gone into the desert, eager to serve God more perfectly and to prepare himself for his mission. No one ought to think this incredible; since, even before he was born, he was gifted with the use of his reason, and comprehended the great mission to which he was called by the Almighty. So much is certain that he was from his most tender years in the wilderness. The holy Evangelists and the holy fathers tell us what manner of life he led there. He subsisted on wild honey and locusts, which are used as food in the East; but he ate so little, that our Lord said of him, that he had neither taken food nor drink. His drink was water; his garments, a coat of camels'-hair, which was fastened round his loins by a leathern belt. The ground was his bed, and he employed day and night in prayer and meditation. By fasting and other austere penances, he prepared himself for his mission. St. Augustine remarks that the severe life of penance of John was the model after which the hermits regulated their lives; hence they acknowledge him as their founder.

When in his thirtieth year, St. John was admonished by God to leave the wilderness and commence his mission. Going to the river Jordan, he preached penance and baptized the penitents. This baptism was not that which Christ instituted in the course of time: neither had it the power which the baptism of Christ has; but was only a sign of penance. In the Gospel it is related how great a multitude of people came to St. John; what he preached; how he exhorted them to do penance: how he had the honor to baptize Christ Himself, and what occurred during this event. The splendid testimony is spoken of, which he gave at different times, to the effect that Christ was the true Messiah. It is also recorded what he answered to those who were sent to him to ask whether he was the promised Messiah; for, his life was so holy and wonderful, that many believed him to be the long promised Redeemer. The events of the latter part of the life of this Saint will be related in the chapter for the day on which the church commemorates his decapitation.

Among the writings of the holy Fathers we find many sermons which contain magnificent praises of the virtues of St. John, the Baptist. They call him an angel in the flesh; an apostle in his sermons; a miracle of penance; the first hermit who induced so many thousands to imitate him; the first preacher of repentance, and proclaimer of the heavenly kingdom. They praise his fearlessness in reproving vice, both in high and in low; his deep humility, by which he deemed himself not worthy to baptize Christ, or even to unloose the latchet of His shoes; his angelic purity; his continual penance and his unwearied zeal for the honor of God and the welfare of men. But what should inspire every one with the greatest reverence towards this Saint is the fact, that Christ our Lord Himself praised the greatness and holiness of St. John so frequently, and said that among men there had been none greater than John the Baptist. What more can be said in his praise?

NATIVITY OF SAINT JOHN THE BAPTIST (from the Liturgical Year, 1904)

The Voice of one crying in the wilderness, “Prepare ye the way of the Lord; behold thy God (Is. xl. 3-9)!” Oh! in this world of ours grown now so cold, who can understand earth's transports, at hearing these glad tidings so long expected? The promised God was not yet manifested; but already have the heavens bowed down (Ps. xvii. 10), to make way for His passage. No longer was He “the One Who is to come,” He for whom our fathers, the illustrious saints of the prophetic age ceaselessly called, in their indomitable hope. Still hidden, indeed, but already in our midst, He was resting beneath that virginal cloud compared with which, the heavenly purity of Thrones and Cherubim wax dim; yea, the united fires of burning Seraphim grow faint, in presence of the single love wherewith she alone encompasses Him in her human heart, she that lowly daughter of Adam whom He had chosen for His mother. Our accursed earth, made suddenly more blessed far than yonder heaven so long inexorably closed to suppliant prayer, awaited only that the august mystery should be revealed; the hour was come for earth to join her canticles to that eternal and divine praise, which henceforth was ever rising from her depths, and which being itself no other than the Word Himself, would celebrate God condignly. But beneath the veil of humility where His divinity, even after as well as before his birth, must still continue to hide itself from men, who may discover the Emmanuel? who, having recognized him in His merciful abasements, may succeed in making him accepted by a world lost in pride? who may cry, pointing out the Carpenter's Son (St. Matth. xiii. 55), in the midst of the crowd: Behold Him Whom your fathers have so wistfully awaited!

For such is the order decreed from on high, in the manifestation of the Messias. Conformably to the Ways of men, the God-Man would not intrude Himself into public life; He would await, for the inauguration of His divine ministry, some man who having preceded him in a similar career, would be hereby sufficiently accredited, to introduce Him to the people.

Sublime part for a creature to play, to stand guarantee for his God, witness for the Word! The exalted dignity of him who was to fill such a position, had been notified, as had that of the Messias, long before his birth. In the solemn liturgy of the Age of types, the Levite choir, reminding the Most High of the meekness of David and of the promise made to him of a glorious heir, hailed from afar the mysterious lamp prepared by God for His Christ (Ps. cxxxi. 17) Not that, to give light to His steps, Christ should stand in need of external help: He, the Splendour of the Father, had only to appear in these dark regions of ours, to fill them with the effulgence of the very heavens; but so many false glimmerings had deceived mankind, during the night of these ages of expectation, that had the true Light arisen on a sudden, it would not have been understood, or would have but blinded eyes now become well nigh powerless, by reason of protracted darkness, to endure its brilliancy. Eternal Wisdom therefore decreed that just as the rising sun is announced by the morning-star, and prepares his coming by the gently tempered brilliancy of aurora; so Christ, who is Light should be preceded here below, by a star, His precursor; and his approach be signalized by the luminous rays which He himself, (though still invisible) would shed around this faithful herald of His coming. When, in by-gone days, the Most-High vouchsafed to light up, before the eyes of his prophets, the distant future, that radiant flash which for an instant shot across the heavens of the old covenant, melted away in the deep night, and ushered not in, as yet, the longed-for dawn. The “morning-star” of which the psalmist sings, shall know naught of defeat: declaring unto night that all is now over with her, he will dim his own fires only in the triumphant splendour of the Sun of Justice. Even as aurora melts into day, so will he confound with Light increased, his own radiance; being of himself, like every creature, nothingness and darkness, he will so reflect the brilliancy of the Messias shining immediately upon him, that many will mistake him even for the very Christ (St. Luke, iii. 15).

The mysterious conformity of Christ and His Precursor, the incomparable proximity which unites one to the other, are to be found many times marked down in the sacred scriptures. If Christ is the Word, eternally uttered by the Father, he is to be the Voice bearing this divine utterance whithersoever it is to reach; Isaias already hears the desert echoing with these accents, till now unknown; and the prince of prophets expresses his joy, with all the enthusiasm of a soul already beholding itself in the very presence of its Lord and God (St. Luke, iii. 15). The Christ is the Angel of the Covenant; but in the very same text wherein the Holy Ghost gives Him this title, for us so full of hope, there appears likewise bearing the same name of angel, the inseparable messenger, the faithful ambassador, to whom the earth is indebted for her coming to know the Spouse: Behold, I send My angel, and he shall prepare the way before My face. And presently the Lord Whom ye seek, and the Angel of the testament whom you desire, shall come to His Temple; behold he cometh, saith the Lord of hosts (Malach. iii. 1). And putting an end to the prophetic ministry, of which he is the last representative, Malachias terminates his own oracles by the words which we have heard Gabriel addressing to Zachary, when he makes known to him the approaching birth of the Precursor (Ibid. iv. 5-6).

The presence of Gabriel, on this occasion, of itself shows with what intimacy with the Son of God, this child then promised shall be favoured; for the very same Prince of the heavenly hosts, came again, soon afterwards, to announce the Emmanuel. Countless are the faithful messengers that press around the throne of the Holy Trinity, and the choice of these august ambassadors usually varies, according to the dignity of the instructions, to be transmitted to earth by the Most High. Nevertheless, it was fitting that the same archangel charged with concluding the sacred Nuptials of the Word with the Human Nature, should likewise prelude this great mission by preparing the coming of him whom the eternal decrees had designated as the Friend of the Bridegroom (St. John, iii. 29). Six months later, on his deputation to Mary, he strengthens his divine message, by revealing to that purest of Virgins, the prodigy, which had by then, already given a son to the sterile Elizabeth; this being the first step of the Almighty towards a still greater marvel. John is not yet born; but without longer delay, his career is begun: he is employed to attest the truth of the angels promises. How ineffable this guarantee of a child hidden as yet in his mother's womb, but already brought forward as God's witness, in that sublime negotiation which at that moment is holding heaven and earth in suspense! Illumined from on high, Mary receives the testimony and hesitates no longer. Behold the handmaid of the Lord, says she to the archangel, be it done unto me, according to thy word (St. Luke, i).

Gabriel has retired, bearing away with him the divine secret which he has not been commissioned to reveal to the rest of the world. Neither will the most prudent Virgin herself tell it; even Joseph, her virginal Spouse, is to receive no communication of the mystery from her lips. Yet fear not; the woeful sterility beneath which earth has been so long groaning, is not to be followed by an ignorance more sorrow-stricken still, now that it has yielded its fruit (Ps. lxxxiv. 13). There is one from whom Emmanuel will have no secret, nor reserve; it were fitting to reveal the marvel unto him. Scarce has the Spouse taken possession of the sanctuary all spotless, wherein the nine months of his first abiding amongst men, must run their course, yea, scarce has the Word been made Flesh, than Our Lady, inwardly taught what is her Son's desire, arising, makes all haste to speed into the hill-country of Judea (St. Luke, i. 39). The voice of my Beloved! Behold he cometh, leaping upon the mountains, skipping over the hills (Cantic. ii. 8). His first visit is to the “Friend of the Bridegroom,” the first out-pour of His graces is to John. A distinct feast will allow us to Honor in a special manner, the precious day on which the divine Child, sanctifying his Precursor, reveals himself to John, by the voice of Mary; the day on which Our Lady, manifested by John, leaping within the womb of his mother, proclaims at last the wondrous things operated within her, by the Almighty, according to the merciful promise which he spoke to our fathers, to Abraham and to his seed for ever (St. Luke, i. 55).

But the time is come, when the good tidings are to spread, from children and mothers, through all the adjacent country, until at length they reach the whole world. John is about to be born, and, whilst still himself unable to speak, he is to loosen his father's tongue. He is to put an end to that dumbness, with which the aged priest, a type of the old law, had been struck by the angel; and Zachary, himself filled with the Holy Ghost, is about to publish in a new canticle, the blessed visit of the Lord God of Israel. (Ibid. i. 68).

The hymn which follows, furnishes the Church with a beautiful formula of prayer and praise. There are few pieces so famous as this, in the holy liturgy. Its composition is attributed to Paul the Deacon, a monk of Monte Cassino, in the eighth century; and the story attached to it, is particularly touching. Honoured with that sacred order the very title of which remains through the course of ages inseparably linked with his name, Paul Warnefrid, the friend of Charlemagne and the historian of the Lombards, was on a certain occasion, deputed to bless the paschal candle, the triumphal appearance whereof, yearly announces to Holy Church, the Resurrection of the Spouse. Now it happened, that whilst he was preparing himself for this function, the most solemn of those reserved to the Levites of the New Testament, he suddenly lost his voice, until then clear and sonorous, so that, he was powerless to sound forth the glad notes of the Exsultet. In this extremity, Paul recollected himself; and turning to Saint John, patron at once of the Lombard nation and of that Church built by Saint Benedict at the top of the holy mount, he invoked him whose birth had put a stop to the dumbness of his own father, and who still preserves his power of restoring to ” vocal chords their lost suppleness.” The son of Zachary heard his devout client. Such was the origin of the harmonious strophes which now form the three hymns proper to this feast.

What is still better known, is the importance which the first of these strophes has acquired in the history of Gregorian chant and of music, The primitive air to which the hymn of Paul the Deacon was sung possessed this peculiarity, namely, that the initial syllable of each hemistich rose just one degree higher than the preceding, in the scale of sounds; thus was obtained, on bringing them together, the series of fundamental notes which form the basis of our present gamut. The custom was afterwards introduced of giving to the notes themselves, the names of these syllables: Ut, Be, Mi, Fa, Sol, La. Guido of Arezzo, in his method of teaching, originated this custom; and by completing it with the introduction of the regular lines of the musical scale, he was the cause of an immense stride being made in the science of sacred music, until then so laborious to render, and so tedious to acquire. He thus acknowledged that the divine Precursor, the Voice whose accents reveal to the world the harmony of the eternal canticle, ought to have the honour of having attached to his name the organization of earth's melodies.

From: www.pamphletstoinspire.com

#nativity of st john the baptist

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majestyrising · 3 years ago

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The Parable

Notes: This is an extract from a scene between me and @vicegrips-fr that we never actually wrote but talked about where Justinian talks to Lio about grief. No warnings except sadness.

“Do you mind if I sit?” Justinian asks, his hand touching the back of the chair before he lowers himself to it.

He tilts his head slightly, long pearlcatcher ears shifting to pick up the noises in the room. A small crease makes its way across his forehead, his hands steepling on the table.

“If you’ll allow it,” he says, “I think I have a tale that you may relate to. It’s a little long, but please, indulge an old man.”

“Many, many moons ago,” he begins, “There was an ancient and wise king. He ruled the largest city in the Ruins- and this was at the time where dragonkind was still wet behind the ears, so to speak. Only a handful of communities had grown strong enough to create a city, and this was the crown jewel of all cities.”

“There were tall walls made of beautiful marble, protecting all those inside. The dragons had established markets inside, with streamers made of linen and glittering with baubles. The king was well liked and respected, for the rumours said that he was the son of a god. This he simply laughed off, for what did it matter?”

“The city grew and grew, but as it did, it’s dire location was made apparent; for it has been the keystone to hold back the tide of darkness. A darkness you know well.”

He frowns, his milky gaze trailing downwards a moment before his eyes flutter closed. He can still see Lio’s spirit, the golden energy that makes up a fuzzy mass in front of him.

“The Shade was stirring from its slumber,” he continues, “An evil god was waking up. The dragons were used to the shade-infected, for it had been a fact of life for them since the Lightweaver bore them into this world. But this was a different beast entirely, in every sense of the word.”

“It was seen as a god, but the truth was a little more complex. It was a remnant of the true Shade, a piece that had been left behind when the darkness had pulled back from Sorienth. Or, that’s what modern historians think.”

He opens his eyes and shakes his head slightly, crystalline hair twinkling together like soft bells.

“The people were afraid, and so they turned to the king. It was his job to protect them, his very purpose. He boasted that the remnant would never reach his city, and he began to send soldiers out to push back the evil forces. He, however, grossly underestimated the power that was growing in his lands.”

Justinian pauses a moment, raising a hand to prop it under his chin.

“You know first-hand how swiftly things can go wrong if you underestimate the intent of the enemy,” he says, with melancholy, “And this was an intent they had not seen yet. A mountain began to stir, you see, and this was the remnant. It was waking up, and drawing all manner of creatures to it. They wished to return home, all of the infected, and the remnant wanted them.”

“The king was not worried, even when the soldiers began to die. He had accounted for this- and though his heart broke, it filled him with a divine fervour. He worked every hour of the day, planning out how to push back. The shade swept the land, and whilst the Lightweaver protected the north, the south was in the hands of the king.”

Justinian’s tail sways slightly from side to side, brushing the floor as it does.

“They weren’t prepared,” he says, “Or perhaps the king’s belief in himself was simply too strong. His soldiers were beaten back, and back. Refugees poured into the city and he took all of them in, but soon he was forced to turn everyone into soldiers. They understood this, and the whole community rallied so they could survive.”

“Even so, not everyone did. Families were torn apart by the beasts, every trip outside the walls a gamble for life or death. And still, the shade moved ever forward. The remnant was moving, coming towards the city- if it was the king’s power that drew it there, or if it just so happened to want the city- it’s hard to say.”

He smiles.

“The king tried his very hardest, but in the end, he was losing the fight. His people were dying- his community shredded to but a tenth of what it once was. He hid his sorrows, burying them in his work. It had been years for war, years of darkness. There was nowhere else to hide.”

“Even the king had lost family,” Justinian explains, “And like all the others, they had been corrupted by the shade. Only a few of his siblings remained now, and it was up to them to stop the remnant as it’s huge bulk loomed over the city.”

Justinian purses his lips, dropping his hand from his chin to fold it on top of his other hand. His fingers tap the table for a moment.

“So the king went out to slay the beast himself in all or nothing gamble. It was a long and bloody battle, so intense that the golden plains that had once surrounded the city were shattered beyond repair. But in the end, the remnant was slain and scattered.”

“But when the king looked around, he was the ruler of nothing but the dead. So many were now gone, friends and family. He was stricken by grief,” Justinian murmurs, “He had been touted as the strongest being in the land, but he still failed.”

He nods his head slightly.

“The attitude that had once served him well in wartime was a detriment in peace. He was arrogant now, conniving, filled with a sense of superiority borne from the desperate of survivor’s guilt.”

Looking off to side, he does his best to keep a sense of calmness about him. A man telling a story, an old tale told over generations. Not personal, but simply a reflection of the human condition.

“Where once he loved all things touched by Light, he now saw puppets and frail dolls, facsimiles of his own radiance,” he continues, “And none dared dispute that, for he was a hero, a god-king, and powerful.”

Now he meets Lio’s eyes again, solemn but passionate.

“The Lightweaver saw what he had become and cast him out,” he says, “That he could not return until he was humbled; that his ego was bigger than he deserved. Fear of death sent him running away with his tail between his legs.”

He looks up at the ceiling, contemplating.

“He had never felt death, never had it’s cold embrace trail along his arm. It’s said that he has been exiled for hundreds of years, forced to walk the earth until he understands that his absence will hurt those who loved him, playing at mortality and helplessness the way he once toyed with others.”

With that, Justinian stops, reaching out to place a hand on Lio’s.

“Even the strongest beings fail,” he says softly, “I hope you understand that was the purpose of this story. That sometimes you try your very best to save those you love, but they are still cruelly snatched from you.”

He squeezes gently.

“You did your best,” he murmurs, “I know you did.”

#flight rising #flight rising lore #fr lore #clan lore #my lore #thanatos syndicate #ieri poli #justinian #lio

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whatdoesshedotothem · 3 years ago

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Friday 29 June 1838

7 40

3 25

heavy rain at 7 55 for ¼ hour F66 ½° at 9 ½ am – looking at post map – breakfast at 9 ¾ - heavy rain between 10 and 11 again – nice light carriage (sort of caléche) closed and I [A-] and I and our valet de Place Pierre out at 11 40 – to the P.O. got 5 or 6 Galignanis’ messenger – then to the bank (bank of Bordeaux by mistake) began to rain again – then to chez Guetrier banquier and négociant (1 of the 1st wine merchants here) and get letter from Messrs. Hammersley and co. enclosing £250 in circulars and letter of credit for £500 – the power of attorney of no use because only one witness! yet Mr. Parker had it all his own way! A- had letter from her sister – cashed circular no. 1072 = £50 exchange at 25/40 = fr. 1270 – M. Guetrier very civil – asked for small [money] – with difficulty gave me 30fr. worth – I find out must go to a money changer for small money as well as gold – at the bank ½ hour till 12 ½ - then to the Bourse –an oblong centre part about 25 x 15 yards lighted from the top by windows slashed , as it were, into the coved roof – plafond of boards painted (washed) and black-lined ashler-form – very nice exchange – might serve as a model for one at H-x? – left the bourse at one – then to the Pont, and went into the interior at 1 ½ for 10 minutes – very curious – a vaulted passage from end to end about 5ft. 6in. high – but a little gate across the middle kept locked that one may not taken going to the end up the time of the man who has the perquisite of shewing the interior – gave ./75 then on asking our valet found that people generally give a fr. – the duke of Bradford was or some of his family at our hotel on his way this spring from Nice and Pierre was their laquais de place – from the Pont to the church of St. Michel from 1 50 to 2 ¼ - put into the poor box there ./50 there being a printed appeal to the charity of strangers on account of the great no. of poor – handsome church – organ at west end of nave, taking up ½ one arcade in depth – this one + 3 arcades to the transepts which are merely 2 arcades i.e. (respectively) the length of the one side aisle and the one ditto ditto taken in little chapels – choir = 3 arcades + the apse – curious mouldings on the 2 great transepts-nave columns entering the choir, partly the column on the north side marigolds and their deeply indented leaves – 2 men fighting – one man standing on his head – one ditto riding a dog? etc. south side pillar – 2 (scaly) birds pecking at a head placed between them and this repeated – marigold or sun flower among its deeply indented leaves – the clocher of St. Michel (handsome old gothic tower) at a little distance from the church – went down to see les cadavers – 17ft. deep of ossemens – much in the same state as in 1830 but the bones swept up more tidely into a heap in the middle – 3 or 4 decent women and a man there – had just gone down before us – went down I should think about 20 steps – only 2 or 3 minutes there and came away at 2 ½ - then to the eglise de la croix – the west front old – à la Civray – small (2 or 3 stones the rest modern) part of an old zodiac (as at Civray) remaining round the great west door (left) as you face the door – then looked into a little bazaar – empty – all the shops to let – under repair or something – then to the bazaar – turned into print shop, and A-

SH:7/ML/E/21/0134

bought the 7 livraisons published (5 more to be sent directed to Madame Lister de Shibden Poste restante à St. Sauveur Hotels Pyréneés) of the principal buildings of Bordeaux – then left A- chez un patissier near the hotel at 4 and brought the money home and locked it up in the secretaire – then back to A- then to the musée of paintings and came away at 4 55 nothing particular there but a fine old female Roman statue found here and a good painting of Mary of Medicis by Van D’Eyek [Vandyke] – the concierge there said trade is very bad at Bordeaux – 1of the principal négocians of Medox has not sold anything (wine) these 2 years – then at the cathedral at 5 – low broad nave – no side-aisle or side chapels – 2 arcades of transept on each side, and continued in 2 aisles round the choir, the one being in chapels the other clear roung the high altar – organ west end over handsome tribune taking up the whole breadth of the nave, and all of carved stone, carved in low relief – the organ takes one arcade, then 3 more arcades up to a different sort of column (a different period of architecture) clustered up to the top – the others not so – 3 of these other arcades up to the transepts – the 3 columns next the organ, singular, the arching springs from them like seven branches – 2 old pieces of sculpture under the organ up against the west end wall of the church – Jupiter and his eagle and Roman matrons and figures? the other side carrying a great heavy cross – and a man with a little cross in his hand with something tied to the top (petticoat-like?) and a heavy iron hexagonal? ring round one end of one of the arms of the cross – the west end built up with houses so that no west end church front is to be seen – then to the church of Sr. Surin – the most curious of all the 4 churches we have seen here (St. Michel, cathedral, Ste. Croix and St. Surin) – curious richly carved handsome south door – some part Roman but masked with a great modern projection that forms a sort of bay-porch in front of the door – I should think this front was originally rather à la Civray the old west door, masked by a modern porch is old and very interesting – the most interesting part of the church – the whole of the north part of the church is built up against – curious old carving and square capitals in this old west porch – Abraham going to sacrifice his son – and a man astride of a lamb beyond the altar – the name of Abraham written and another name Isaac? but it struck me these names were not original the interior of this church very interesting – at west end of nave 3 great old plain 3ft. or more diameter pillars, quite plain – came away at 6 – then to the Palais Galien – till 6 ¼ - 5 old Roman small arches + the 5 great arches are before another forming as it were a roadway, but in fact part of an amphitheatre? then to the musée des antiquities – too late – shuts at 4 – then to the Jardin botanique at 6 25 for ½ hour – determined to go tomorrow morning if fine, and leave here from 2 to 3 for Langon – home in 7 minutes at 7 10 – dinner at 7 ¼ and out at 8 ½ A- and I to our booksellers A- bought 1 vol. 4to (another to come out 7 or 8 years hence) by.......... on the statistique de Bordeaux for the sake of the notice of the church of St. Croix - I bought a medical work (but good generally) on the thermal waters of the Pyrénées etc. with a tolerable map of these mountains 7/. gave my address Madame L- de Shibden Poste restate at St. Sauveur Hotels Pyréneés for charpentier to be sent from Paris as soon as possible – the letter went before tonights’ post – the book will arrive in 7 or 8 days – paid for it 8/. including carriage 1/. and postage of letter – he shewed me a sort of Latin etymological dictionary 9 vols. 4to. (I think he said) good work – out of print – had refused 60/. for the work – but I think I might have it at that if I chose? – his boy came back with us and brought the books home at 10 – fine evening – had Josephine immediately – A- right today and this evening but so touch she was rather wron[g] because I know not what that I asked to look at her book or what? Perpetual showers till about 5pm and afterwards fine evening – wrote out from line 22 of p. 250 to here which took me till 2 35 tonight at which hour F66 ½° - then at accounts till 3

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mattchase82 · 4 years ago

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The Nativity of St. John, the Baptist by Fr. Francis Xavier Weninger, 1877

In the holy Gospel, the nativity of St. John the Baptist, who was the forerunner of Christ, is described by the inspiration of the Holy Ghost, not only for our instruction, but also that we may rejoice in the Lord our God. In the mountains of Judaea, at Hebron, eight miles from Jerusalem, lived Zachary and Elizabeth. They were just people, and lived in accordance with the commandments of God, but had no children, although they had prayed for them many years. The great age which they had attained, naturally gave them no longer any hope of issue. But still they continued their prayer. One day, when Zachary, who was a priest, offered incense in the Temple at Jerusalem, he saw at the right side of the altar, an angel, whose appearance filled the pious old man with fear and trembling. The angel, however, said to him: " Fear not, Zachary, for thy prayer is heard. Elizabeth, thy wife, shall bear thee a son, and thou shalt call his name John. He shall bring thee joy and gladness, and many shall rejoice in his nativity. He shall be great before the Lord and shall drink no strong drink, and he shall be filled with the Holy Ghost even from his mother's womb. He shall convert many of the children of Israel to the Lord their God: and he shall go before Him in the spirit and power of Elias: that he may turn the hearts of the fathers unto the children, and the incredulous to the wisdom of the just, to prepare unto the Lord a perfect people."

Zachary listened with great astonishment: the angel's promise seemed to him to be out of the course of nature. Hence, he said: "Whereby shall I know this? For, I am an old man, and my wife is advanced in years." The angel answered: "I am Gabriel, who stand before God, and I am sent to speak to thee and bring thee these good tidings. And behold, thou shalt be dumb and not able to speak until the day wherein these things shall come to pass, because thou hast not believed my words, which shall be fulfilled in their time." After this the angel disappeared, and Zachary, mute from that hour, returned home after he had discharged his priestly functions.

At length came the time when he was to see the light of day, and Elizabeth gave birth to him whom the angel had promised and prophesied. When the neighbors and relatives heard how gracious God had been to Elizabeth, they all went to see her and congratulate her. On the eighth day the child was circumcised according to the law. As children, on this occasion, received a name, the relatives wished to give him that of his father, but Elizabeth opposed it, saying: " John is his name!" "But there is none among thy kindred that is called by this name," said her friends. Elizabeth, however, remained inflexible. Turning to the still mute Zachary, they desired to know how he would have him called. Zachary asked for a writing-table and wrote; "John is his name." And at the same time his speech returned, and filled with the Holy Ghost, he gave thanks to God in the beautiful hymn which is one of the daily prayers of the Church, and begins: " Blessed be the Lord God of Israel; for he hath visited and wrought the redemption of his people." All those present marvelled at these events, praised God, and spread among the people all that they had heard and seen, and concluded from it that the new-born child was destined to be great among them. Hence they said to each other: "What do you think shall this child be? for the hand of the Lord is with him."

Thus writes St. Luke, in his gospel, of the nativity of St. John, and then adds that, "he grew and was strengthened in spirit;" and was in the desert until the day of his manifestation to Israel, by his preaching and baptizing.

Practical Considerations

At the time when the Divine Mother visited her holy cousin Elizabeth, the yet unborn John was cleansed from original sin and sanctified by the grace of the Almighty. What an inexpressibly great grace! You partook of the same after your birth, when you received holy baptism. You were at that time cleansed from the stain of original sin, and from a child of wrath became a child of God, a temple and a dwelling of the Holy Ghost, and obtained the right to eternal happiness. " Behold what manner of charity the Father hath bestowed upon us that we should be called and should be the sons of God;" writes the holy Apostle John (John iii.) Consider this unspeakably great favor which God in His mercy has shown to you, in preference to so many thousands. But have you ever made manifest to God your gratitude for this great mercy? Commence this day to offer your thanks to Him, and repeat them yearly on the day of your birth or of your baptism. Take heed that you turn not again to a child of wrath from a child of God, and that from "a dwelling of the Holy Ghost you become not a habitation for the devil; and thus, by sin, forfeit the claim you had on heaven. "By baptism, you have become a temple and a dwelling of the Holy Ghost," says St. Leo; "do not drive away so noble an inhabitant and become again a slave of the devil."

St. John kept the grace and innocence which he received in the womb of his mother unimpaired, and yet led a most austere life from his tenderest years until his end. How does it happen that you have such an aversion to all penances, as you certainly must know that you have long since lost the grace and innocence received in holy baptism? Why will you not mortifiy your body either by fasts or other acts of self-denial? Why do you persist in allowing yourself all that your body desires; and why do you avoid every thing that is in the least burdensome or hard for you? "John punished and mortified his innocent body so severely;" says St. Bernard, "and you desire to adorn your sinful body with silk and velvet, and nourish it with delicate food." How is this? How do you suppose you will be able to render an account of your doings to God? Truly, if we could save our souls as easily without all self-denial, by enjoying the pleasures of the world, and living in comfort and luxury, we might say that John did not act wisely in leading so severe a life. But who dares even think this of one who before he was born was already filled with the Holy Ghost? We act very unwisely if we flatter ourselves that, living so different a life, shall obtain a place in heaven near him. "Hence," says the above-cited holy teacher, "let us encourage ourselves to do penance," in consideration of the austere penances, of St. John. "Let us stimulate ourselves to mortify our bodies, that we may escape the awful judgment of the living God."

#saint john the baptist #nativity of john the baptist #catholicism #traditional catholic #catholic #christianity #heaven #love #jesus christ #its the truth #catholic saints #catholic faith #jesus loves you #true love #prophet

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leonbloder · 4 years ago

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When Your Arms Are Too Tired

In the book of Exodus from the Hebrew Scriptures, there is a strange story in chapter 17---the story of a battle between the Hebrew people and a tribal group known as the Amalekites.

While Joshua is leading the troops into battle, Moses goes up on top of a hill to watch it all ensue. He then notices something strange as he stands there that makes for a very interesting story.

Moses realizes that if he keeps his arms raised and outstretched over the Hebrew warriors, they prevail in the battle. But when his arms become tired, and he lets them fall to his side, the Hebrews begin to lose.

Finally, Moses' brother Aaron and his brother-in-law Hur come to his aid. They find a rock for him to sit on, and they help hold his arms up. The Hebrews go on to decisively win the battle and rout the Amalekites something fierce.

Weird, right?

I did some reading about this, and one of the Jewish commentators I found said something to this effect:

At first, the Jewish fighters would look up to the hill and see Moses up there holding his arms out, blessing them, and they would fight harder.

But then the commentator stated that when the warriors looked up and saw Moses being helped because he had grown weary, they fought even harder than before because they realized they weren't alone and they were really fighting for one another.

This story has been on my mind today for some reason. I can only think that other than myself, there has to be a bunch of you out there who need to hear this...

Maybe you've been trying to hold up your arms for a while now so that the people in your life you feel responsible for can believe in you. Maybe you feel like you can't keep your arms up any longer, but you don't want to let them down.

Maybe you have felt the burden of feeling like you are carrying so many other people's expectations, hopes, and dreams. Maybe you have had the responsibility for others thrust upon you because of circumstances, stage of life, a promotion... you name it.

You're tired, and you imagine that if you give in to the weariness you will let everyone down---that they will fail because of you. You might be sitting there right now overwhelmed because you don't feel like you have anything left---that your arms are falling...

Here's some advice from Fr. Richard Rohr for you if that is what you are experiencing right now--advice that many of us need to hear so desperately right now... You need to get to a place where:

"You stop holding yourself up so you can be held…"

There comes a time when you have to face facts about yourself. You are not the be-all and end-all. You might really, really good, but you have limits. The fact of the matter is, you know this deep down inside, even if you won't admit it to yourself or anyone else.

You need to know this, though... You are also not alone as long as you know how to ask for help... or receive it when it's offered. And there's no shame in being vulnerable---let me explain.

Moses needed some help holding his arms up, and he got it. And in a strange turn of events, the Hebrew warriors seem to take more comfort and courage from that humble act than anything he'd done before.

Consider this... it could be that the person or people who you believe to be relying on you for inspiration or support actually need to know that it's okay for them to ask for help, too.

Maybe they've been watching you do it all on your own, and they think that's the only way to do it. They might even believe that you'll think less of them, or that they'll somehow let you down if they ask for help.

You could change that right now, by finding your own Aaron and Hur to lift you up. It might be the very thing that could turn the tide for you and everyone in your life.

Stop holding yourself up... let yourself be held.

And may the grace and peace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with you now and always. Amen.

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xaz-fr · 7 years ago

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three months later I finally have the lore I wanted to write since I joined FR lols. The start of Cypress Hall when there was no one, just Johanna, Layali, and her fish of a brother Rahab.

Oh, Take Me Back to the Start

The old skydancer was tired. Defeated even. Her armor wasn’t so shining, her feathers askew, one antenna bent a way it probably shouldn’t. Johanna had served loyally for so many years she wasn’t used to being treated with scorn and distrust. But that is what had happened. The Dragonlord had no use for her, and didn’t trust her. After that last fight with the Crumbled she’d decided to just ‘die’. It was easy to fake your death when those traitorous oath breakers, egg breaking, scoundrels had made sure everyone they could get ahold of had been ripped apart before they’d made their retreat. Johanna had been injured during it and had just laid down. Her flank still hurt. Her healing magic wasn’t as strong as it once had been. When the Crumbled forces had given chase, leaving her behind she’d waited for someone to come back. No one did. Either they’d killed each other or were still chasing her paladins.

As it often did in the dense jungles of the Labyrinth it had started to rain and a sprinkling of rain had broken through the thick canopy to splash across her face. No one would come back for her unless they had time to come bury her or the others’ corpses. She’d gotten to her feet with a groan and limped the opposite direction, away from the heart of the Labyrinth, away from the Clan. Away from her duty. Away from her old life.

She hadn’t looked back.

She was far from the Labyrinth now and she meant to get even further. She wanted to return home, to the Plateau. Her young aunt would welcome her home, surely? But to return home having forsaken her duty? To abandon the Dragonlord and the war? Anastasia might not be forgiving but Johanna had to hope. She had entered the Sunbeam Ruins a few days ago after skirting the coast of the Tangled Wood and was making her slow way along the edge of the Dusk Break where a nearly sheer cliff of tectonic might mad fallen away to separate the Ruins from the Wood. The flight across the Twilight Straits had taken it out of her and the wound in her flank was greatly aggravated and she’d found a heavy sprain in her wing. The transformation back into a dragon had nearly taken all of her strength and she’d had to leave her armor behind and she had to walk along the ground. She made a truly pathetic sight.

At least the Ruins was, for the most part, flatland along its western border once you made it past the Climb, the precariously steep staircase that allowed for foot traffic between the two regions and had different names depending on which god’s domain you were in. In the distance she could see the thick conifer forest that much of the ruins that gave the Sunbeam Ruins their name resided in. She was much too far to see any of the buildings but the forest covered nearly the entire upper half of the territory so it was impossible to miss.

She did not meet many clans on her walk along the rim of cliffs. Light clans wanted nothing to do with being so close to the Wood and Shadow clans found the searing light that came from over the Dusk Break much too harsh for their eyes. So she was alone with her thoughts for days on her slow, limping, walk. She grazed on tender grasses and she went and when she could snapped up a cricket or butterfly. Eating raw food wasn’t her favorite thing but she made do with what she had available. Before she slept she tended to her flank wound as best she could and slept with dreams full of her failures.

Over a week since she entered the Ruins she came across her first obstacle. The brackish river that cut through the Ruins. So close to the Lightweaver’s Laugh- the name of the falls, called thus for it was said the sound of its cascade reminded Light dragons of the Lightweaver’s laugh- the river ran swift and deep, scoring the land deeply. Johanna wasn’t strong enough to fly even this gap and there was no way she could swim across such a current. To even do so was ludicrous. She’d only heard of some of the oldest Water dragons even attempting to swim around the mouth of Lightweaver’s Laugh. All others were swept along with the tide and tossed out into open air for a nearly mile long plunge down into the Sea below. Plenty of time to get your wings under you but Johanna didn’t have the strength for either.

That led to one option. She’d have to go up the river until it mellowed out and became calmer and hopefully a bit more shallow so she could more easily cross it. With a heavy sigh she headed east, towards the sun. Her going was slow enough that it took her several days to reach a part in the river where the river was nearly level with the ground. She knew she was nowhere near the rim and she’d have to cut across the rest of the Ruins diagonally before reaching the Shifting Expanse. It was unwise for dragons to travel the desert without the aid of a Lightning clan’s dragon.

But the river was wider now but she could tell not much deeper. She didn’t want to go too much further east. She could see the haze of the Hewn City in the distance and she didn’t fancy getting caught up in that. The only problem with this wide, slow, river was that it had turned into a swamp and Johanna stood on some of the only dry land she could see. She’d have to walk and swim through this muck. There was nothing for it. If she wanted to make it to the Plateau she’d have to cross the river and do so while also avoiding the Hewn City. Of course if she thought about it for a moment the Hewn City was probably a better place to go since Light clans often set up their lairs around the Hewn City to explore and study the strange phenomena, not to mention investigate all the rumors of monsters and such that dwelled within it. But she didn’t. She was focused on getting back to the Plateau and the ancestral home of House Gold Feather.

She waded into the water. At first it only came up to her belly. Then it grew deeper as she went and she had to swim. She was exhausted by the time she’d crossed the main river. The water had looked so calm but its currents had still been rather brisk and it had been a workout to not get swept away. Coming out of the water she startled a nest of psyworms that hissed at her but she managed to flap her wings at them and kick up enough wind to fling them backwards. They raced away squeaking in rage. That dealt with she collapsed just beyond the swamp bank. Her wound ached. It no longer bled but it still hurt deeply.

Exhausted she passed out under a dogwood tree.

She was woken with a start by the most anguished wail. Her head shot up and she looked around, trying to find the source of the noise. A pang gripped her heart. It sounded like the youngest children of the old Dragonlord before those Crumbled scum had butchered them. She pushed herself to her feet and stumbled through the island’s underbrush towards the noise. She cross the island, which was larger than she anticipated, and came upon a greater body of water. The sun was starting to set by now and the light fading but not even that could hide the sight before her. Out in the water was a truly massive bald cypress tree. Surrounding it were a ring of smaller but still large cypress trees and then a forest of mangroves and smaller cypress trees and saplings. Johanna couldn’t see past the canopy but the fact that there were trees there meant the water wasn’t too deep and she needed to get over there. The wails were coming from beyond the tree-line.

With a surprising amount of energy she splashed into the water and found it came up only to the base of her neck so she could walk through the murky water. She kicked up a fair amount of sediment on her way and if she cared to look back she’d see it shift in a way that belayed there was more there than just water. Once at the main tree-line of mangroves that extended east she grabbed the branches and hauled herself up onto the canopy with a tired groan. The mud tried to hold onto her feet but she was insistent. The canopy was easier going than the water and she clambered through the branches with only a bit of strain. More than one pair of eyes watched her from the water’s surface.

“Oh Windsinger’s gale,” she huffed when she saw what lay on the other side of the ring of trees. It was a great, sandy bowl in the water where at the center was a large rocky opening from which fresh water poured. Rising up from the sand on one side and sort of cupping the spring was the roots and trunk of the massive bald cypress. It from within she could hear the pitiful sounds which were now much softer but still were like a fist around her heart. She hadn’t been able to help those Rhodes children but she could help this one! She didn’t fancy a swim in the spring water. Usually swamp springs like this were icy.

Johanna tested her wings. Could she make the short flight? It was only a hundred or so feet. She could make it. She could do it. She steadied herself on the highest branches of one of the shorter cypress trees and launched herself into the air. She grunted in pain as her not fully healed wing strained to catch the wind but she did. She only needed three flaps before she could glide the rest of the way and landed as best she could on the great trunk, clinging to the side like a gecko. Now where was that baby? She looked around and her antenna twitched. She couldn’t feel anything. That was impossible.

Clambering around the trunk Johanna looked for the source the continued whimpering. She could pick up nothing empathetically from her gem even when she tried very hard and it infuriated her. She climbed down towards the roots and found a part of the tree that had been dug out by some animal to make a natural little den with access to the water and the spring. Johanna had to get a bit wet to gain access to it and she was right! The spring water was freezing! Ignoring the chill she clambered into the den which was several times larger than her and came face to face with the source of the noise.

She’d been expecting a whimpering child. Instead she found a young adult Guardian, easily twice her size, with big pale green eyes and salty tear tracks partially dried on her face and hanging as little droplets off her facial fins. Her brown hide was covered in rosette patterns and her green wings carried the rare butterfly motif. But the oddest of all was her belly and stomach spine. It seemed almost hollow and filled with a pastel nebula. Johanna had never seen a genetic mutation like that before and she had seen many. But none of that mattered. What mattered was this poor thing seemed to be in great pain.

“Are you alright? Are you hurt?” Johanna asked, moving closer to her. The guardian jerked away, pulling back and away from Johanna fearfully, to press up against the back of the small hollow of a den they’d found. Made? “It’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you,” Johanna said gently as her gem started glowing gently to offer soothing feelings. It either didn’t help or had no effect because it didn’t seem to make the Guardian any less distressed. “Don’t be afraid, I won’t hurt you,” she reached out a claw and gently put it on the Guardian’s arm.

She expected it to be snatched away or for them to lash out. Instead they just looked down at Johanna’s claw and then up at her with wide eyes. “Y-you’re real?” she asked in a small voice.

“Yes. I’m real,” Johanna said gently. “I’m very real. Are you alright? I heard you.”

The Guardian looked away, shaking her head, blinking hard, looking at the wall. It looked like she saw something here but made no mention of it. “No,” she said and looked at Johanna with wide eyes, her pupils little pricks in her eyes. She looked very scared.

“I’m Johanna,” she said and hopped a bit closer, taking the Guardian’s claw in both of hers. “What’s your name?”

“Name?” She got a far off look in her eyes like she needed to remember. “Layali,” she said. “Are you sure you’re real?” she asked nervously.

“Yes. I’m real, you don’t have to be afraid. You aren’t alone now,” she said soothingly and tried to project some soothing empathetic feelings. Layali didn’t seem affected by them.

“I’m not?”

“No. I’m here now,” she found herself saying. What was she saying? She was supposed to be crossing the swamp to get back to the rim and eventually the Plateau. But looking into Layali’s Wind green eyes she knew that wouldn’t be happening. Her House didn’t need her; Anastasia ran it just fine without her. The Clan didn’t need her; there were other, younger, generals to lead their paladins into battle. The Dragonlord didn’t need her… didn’t want her. This poor young thing needed her, needed a kind soul in an empty swamp where she was alone.

“You are?” Layali asked, afraid still but more in disbelief than anything.

“Yes,” Johanna said kindly. “Now why don’t you tell me what’s wrong?” Layali just shook her head, her neck swaying back and forth. “Alright, then we can just sit here, together. Whatever had you screaming won’t hurt you while I’m here.”

“You don’t know that,” Layali whispered.

“I’m a paladin,” Johanna said, lifting her head regally. “Nothing gets by me.”

Layali’s lips curled up a bit. She nodded. “Okay. That sounds good.” She lifted her off side wing. “This is my brother, Rahab,” she said. Johanna looked at the thing and wasn’t sure what to make of it. It didn’t look like a dragon really. It looked almost like a brilliant tropical fish with legs and huge draconic eyes in a little head. Then their head frills moved and she realized with shock that it was a fae. But it didn’t have any wings. Rather they’d become decorative fins that could be used to propel them through water but were flimsy out of the water and useless for flight. “We’ve been here alone a long time.”

Johanna tore her eyes away from the wretch of a fae. What was wrong with it? “Well you aren’t alone now. Now you have me,” she said firmly.

Layali dipped her head low. “Thank you,” she whispered so softly, almost a whimper. “Thank you for coming to us, Johanna,” and she started crying again. Johanna just took her head in her arms and held it, shushing her gently and petting her along the top of the head. She stayed like that well after night fell and darkness gathered around them.

#flight rising #fr lore #fr lore share #lore share #a share if you liked it would be muy beuno!#cypress hall

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