#while living the high life as a revered angel up in heaven | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

missingjackklinehours · 3 years

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when tomorrow comes 🌳

good gods i know it's ship day but this is solely a gen michael & lucifer & raphael & gabriel fic :')

Inspired by Sam & Dean's S.W & D.W carvings on Baby. Who's to say the Archangels weren't first in that idea?

Rating: G (Gen Archangels fic)

Special thank you to my beta!

Playlist & Fic available on AO3. (it's also under the cut, if you prefer that!)

Heaven's lush hills always seemed greener and livelier when all four archangels lay against them. A rarity the occasion was, a trivial shard of diamond in the cascading abyss. It always seemed that Heaven needed an archangel here, there, everywhere at once; It made familial bonding far more complicated than things used to be.

However, a special day plucked from each year never failed to offer the archangels plenty of time together. A day of thanks, a day where Heaven displayed gratitude for their eldest brothers—Michaelmas, the Feast of the Archangels.

Morning sun rays highlighted soft violets and dusk plums of aster flowers, a humble gift for the very firsts of their species. By nightfall, bright angel-made clusters of heat-producing hydrogen and helium littered the black sky in the name of each archangel. Fledglings flocked to watch the fiery protostars burn in the cosmos.

While Lucifer happily revelled in the praise, Michael hid his jittery hands by tucking them behind his back and flashed a polite, yet photogenic smile to his newest siblings. Raphael, seemingly indifferent to the holiday, remained by Michael's side, occasionally shooting their brother a subtly reassuring look. Jovial, yet also graciously wanting to include others, Gabriel mingled in the crowds with the fledglings to watch the protostars, enthusiastically explaining to Heaven's children how the young stars would eventually grow to become massive beacons in the night.

By the time the thick, yet routine night fog had clouded the view of the protostars, the flocks of angels had dissipated. It was their cue to leave; The archangel hideout awaited. Or, as Lucifer liked to call it: the Badass Lair.

The refreshing air genially accommodated them, the chilled wind carried their wings as they flew. There was always a sense of thrill around the Autumn Equinox, nearing Michaelmas—perhaps it was the comforting thought of familiarity, a high from nostalgia of sorts. Whatever the seed, it didn't matter; Focusing on the blossom of a sibling’s love and appreciation was much easier.

Raphael's garden always seemed to flourish increasingly with every rare gathering the four indulged in. Even midair, as they descended upon the immense greenery below, Michael had already begun to muse about how the banyan trees had expanded since his last visit. Raphael quietly, yet blithely soaked in the adoration from their archangelic brothers.

The softness of the grass, however, always remained the same. Lucifer was the first to land, being the quickest flier of the bunch. He cracked an astonished grin as he surveyed his younger sibling's growing garden, slightly pivoting to catch the vibrance of Raphael's indigo feathers amongst the blackness of the sky.

"Not bad, Raph!" The Morningstar loudly called out, adding more quietly with a snicker, "For a kid."

The thunderous sound of strong, flapping wings echoed behind him, prompting Lucifer's playful smirk to widen.

"I'm literally only four hundred years younger than you," Raphael's familiar voice remarked, and Lucifer turned once again to meet his sibling's deadpan expression.

"And despite the age difference, Raphael has created far better things than you have, brother," Michael offhandedly commented as he silently landed farther away from the pair. Lucifer's face contorted into a pout, and Raphael fought to contain their own appreciative smile at the eldest angel's words.

"Woooow, Mi! I'm hurt!" Lucifer faked offense.

The heavy fog of nightfall seemed to become almost pellucid at the very presence of Heaven's firsts. Peeks of sheer luminosity from the protostars of Michaelmas seeped from the impervious midnight clouds. Even the banyan trees seemed to lean into the comforting presence of archangelic grace.

Lucifer squinted into the elegant cloak of the night sky. "You think Gabe's gonna break his neck when he crashlands?"

Raphael turned their attention to the sky in search of the youngest archangel in question. "He's been getting better at landing. He'll do fine."

Lucifer hummed in response, brightening slightly when he caught sight of Gabriel nearing the garden. "Mn, doubt it. Wanna bet? Loser has to listen to Michael's fifty page manifesto on why ducklings are Pop's best creation."

Raphael blinked, looking over to Michael in bemusement. "Your-... your what?"

Michael's eyes darted to Lucifer to glare daggers at him, who only sniggered in response. A gust of wind washed over the trio, and frantic fluttering of golden wings broke Michael's glower. Beside him, Gabriel was close to landing—or rather, close to failing at landing. It was really more similar to falling, with his limbs flailing all about and eyes squeezed tightly shut in preparation for impact.

Michael sighed hopelessly at the sight, extending one of his grandiose fuschia wings low to catch his younger brother. Upon the soft sensation of Michael's velutinous feathers, Gabriel's eyes reopened in surprise.

"Hey, no fair! You interfered!” Lucifer huffed at Michael, who merely rolled his eyes and helped Gabriel to his feet.

“I almost made it, I was so close!” Gabriel whined, furrowing his brows as Michael thumbed a smudge of leftover party sweets that was stuck to his cheek.

“Next time, bug. You’ll get it next time,” Raphael reassured, and Gabriel’s grace seemed to relax at his older sibling’s encouragement.

Lucifer yawned, and the twinkle of the protostars above them began to reflect the dew on the grass. “M’kay, new bet. Last one to the tree has to listen to Michael’s manifesto.”

Gabriel perked up curiously and cocked his head at Michael. “What manifesto?”

Michael shook his head and stubbornly huffed. “I was two hundred years old, Lucifer. The duckling phase of my life is over.”

“Oh? So you’re saying ducklings aren’t the greatest living creatures?” Lucifer pried, exaggeratedly leaning his ear towards Michael to hear his response. Raphael and Gabriel eyed the two bickering brothers and exchanged amused glances.

Michael shifted uncomfortably in place in an attempt to keep in his passionate ramblings; He ultimately failed. “I never said that. Ducklings are the epitome of absolute goodness and commendable purity in the universe. The best traits of all of creation can be found in their small yet mighty little bodies. Not only do they bring togeth--”

“Blegh, no more lectures! Lulu, your bet’s on!” Gabriel groaned, spreading his sets of still-developing golden wings.

"'Atta boy," Lucifer impossibly brightened, his grin quickly returning. "On three! One... "

With one singular number down, Lucifer watched in incredulity as Gabriel mischievously laughed, a flash of golden feathers passing them all by. After the initial shock wore off, Lucifer briefly hummed, nodding in approval.

"Touché, little brother, touché," The Morningstar muttered to himself, before theatrically shrieking into the night, "YOU'RE DEAD MEAT, GABE!"

Gabriel's boisterous bursts of both elated and happily frightened screams in the distance elicited an endeared smile from all three of the older angels. With a whistling streak of vermillion wings, Lucifer chased after his youngest archangelic brother.

Michael and Raphael observed them in comfortable silence, the illumination from the protostars just bright enough to see the vivid colors of their wings against the midnight sky. As the breeze audibly raked through the trees, Raphael slightly swiveled to curiously peer at Michael.

"I'd actually like to hear about these ducklings," Raphael calmly stated, gesturing with their head towards the specific tree that Gabriel and Lucifer were headed for.

The blinding look of pleased excitement on Michael's face was enough to bring a smile to Raphael's lips.

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚

In contrast to the vivacious growth of much of Raphael's garden, the Badass Lair retained all of its youthful glory.

The haphazardly-built abomination of a fort from sticks and logs stood distinctly adjacent to the veiny streams of the garden. Across from it dwelled a meager hill of lush grass and florid lilac petals of asters—A place where Michael taught all three fledglings to fly, a place where Lucifer created his first defective star, a place where Gabriel grew the lavender flowers as a gift to Raphael. It was their safe haven, a site of alleviation and bliss.

In the center of both dear venues settled a special banyan tree— their banyan tree.

Against the smooth, grooving bark of their tree, Michael’s ginger fingertips almost seemed to purr. The swaying aerial roots that veiled the intricate trunk wavered joyously over his head, and in a sense, their tree looked overjoyed to see Michael. Behind him, Raphael sincerely watched at the way their older brother’s fingers reverently traced the markings on their tree.

“You know… it’s not just gonna disappear, Mi,” Raphael’s voice was soft, a kind whisper carried by the midnight wind. Michael’s hand never halted against the tree bark, marginally turning his head to look at Raphael with a sad smile.

“That’s true,” Michael’s gaze fell back to the etchings on their tree. “It just seems like it was yesterday when… You three have grown too fast.”

Raphael sympathetically tilted their head, stepping forward to place a soothing hand on Michael’s shoulder. Up close, the carvings on their tree stood out boldly, a beloved memory held close to all of their hearts.

Under the then-small aerial roots of their banyan tree, each fledgling archangel had carved their names into the young bark. Something to hold onto, Michael had stated, a bittersweetness as Heaven had first begun to flourish; The eldest had an inkling that duty would steal time spent together—And he was right.

Raphael could still make out the places where Michael had once helpfully guided Raphael’s shaky hand, the spelling mistake in Lucifer’s name, the heart that Gabriel had drawn after his name, and Michael’s near-perfect handwriting, even in carving-form.

“Lusifer?” Gabriel, who seemingly appeared out of nowhere, squinted as he approached the base of their tree. Both Michael and Raphael struggled to repress a thoughtful smile as Gabriel sounded it out again.

“That’s how my name should’ve been spelled!” Lucifer called out from above, and his siblings gazed upwards to catch him resting against an exposed branch. “Lucifer with a c… ridiculous! Looks like luck-i-fer.”

Michael’s rapture remained as he lightly shook his head. “Brother, you are just stating this because you lack efficiency in spelling.”

Lucifer playfully stuck his tongue out at his older brother. Michael scoffed in good nature, and Gabriel giggled at the sight. Raphael’s attention wandered outwards to the perched hill, a peaceful silence enveloping the archangelic siblings.

The argent light from the protostars shone divinely upon the lucid green and lilac of the hill, an invitation of sorts. The sifting breeze was cool, a grateful lullaby to its archangelic inhabitants. The night was the epitome of perfection, though not because of nature—rather, because of the familial love that radiated energetically from each of their graces. A comforting peace, a cherished silence of nostalgia lingered between the four… until Gabriel’s reticent, yet hopeful voice proposed a profound request.

“I wanna stay with you all forever,” His voice was dreary, a sweet innocence embedded into his tone. It prompted all eyes to shift to him. “Let’s stay together no matter what, okay?”

A beat of tranquility followed, their banyan tree leaned in to listen. Michael was the first to react, tugging Gabriel into a tight hug, a sentiment that few were blessed upon. Gabriel’s toothy beam was evident in his quiet giggles as Michael held him close, before the eldest pulled back with a gentle smile of his own.

“Of course,” Michael assured, crystal emotion brimming in his eyes.

A rapid flash of vermillion flared from the top of the tree, and both Gabriel and Michael’s squeaks of surprise induced a jump from Raphael. Lucifer, who had quite literally deliberately plummeted from the tree, now held both of his brothers in a deathgrip hug, a wide grin across his face.

“You’re a real dumbass if you think you’ll ever be able to get rid of me,” Lucifer sniggered lovingly, and Gabriel leaned into his brother’s embrace. Michael lightly elbowed Lucifer for the profanity, yet his delighted simper lingered on his face.

Raphael shuffled closer, eyeing their brothers with absolute admiration. Their hand moved to lightly ruffle Gabriel’s hair, who turned his cheery beam to his sibling. Raphael’s brothers observed them with a giddy sense of euphoria, the aura resonating a promising hopefulness in anticipation for their response.

“Without a doubt.”

#SPNArchangelWeek #this one might be my favorite of my own despite my crippling self doubt about all of them :D #archangels spn #spn archangels #my fics

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lepidopterium · 2 years

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I'd like to share a little brain worm with the class that I've been ruminating about for a while but I'm going to do it under the cut because it's embarassing and I don't want to run the risk of coming off as full of myself or self centered.

Here's a list of things that I've grown up with:

1) Martyrs are revered both in my culture and religion because self sacrifice for the will of God (which is justice and kindness towards others no matter the cost) will earn you a special place in heaven, and because colonialism turned imperialism turned civil war and dictatorships will make people value their life very little in comparison to valuing a cause, whatever that may be.

2) I was named after an activist poet whose poetry chronicled the suffering she saw around her because of the Isra*li occupation. In one of my favorite poems, she closed with

I'm afraid of tomorrow

I'm afraid of the unknowable resources of fate

O God, don't let me be a burden, shunned by young and old

I wait to arrive where the land is silent, I'm waiting for death

Long has been my journey O God

Make the path short and the journey end.

3) My name means "self sacrificing protector"

4) My mother has always wanted my brothers and I to be exceptional. When I was younger, I had a birthmark on my thigh that was shaped like a leaf. My mother, who's always believed my dad's family comes from a lineage tied back to Prophet Mohammed (pbuh), insisted that was proof. When I revolted against her abuse, she became convinced I was possessed by the Devil, until we both finally got too tired to fight each other. She still tells me about how one day I'm going to change the world.

5) I grew up being a star. I was top of my class, I could sing and act, I was the leader of the playground. I was the poster child and I shut myself in from the world to cultivate that for as much as I needed to to stay that way.

6) Senior year of high school, I was in a chemistry class with a bunch of sophomores. I was catching up on all the classes I missed after I functionally dropped out sophomore year so I could graduate on time. I switched chemistry classes about two weeks in, but I remember at the end of class a few days before I switched over, my chemistry teacher stopped me before leaving, nodded, and told me that I'm going to be someone very special.

7) I had to play therapist/talk a lot of people out of hurting/killing themselves, more than I ever wanted to. I was told again and again how I saved their life, they wouldn't be here without me, they wouldn't be able to live without me, that I'm an angel, that I'm a blessing. The same year that I attempted suicide 5 times back to back was the same year that I was stressing myself trying to comfort people who I wasn't close to through the terrible things they were going through. And I was glad for it, it gave me a sense of worth. But I was always so scared of fucking up. I had to stay this perfect, selfless person no matter what. (Obviously that burned me out pretty quick, but it gave me a good enough reputation that no one was really upset with me when I started to ghost them)

8) I'm deeply nauseated by the idea that I'm destined to be anything, let alone a "hero". More than anything I just want to live a quiet life by the ocean.

All that to say is it's been very hard trying to untangle who I am from this martyr-savior identity that I was pushed into. What especially sucks is I can't take being called a good friend or a bright student or an amazing person because it makes me feel so scared that I'm going to be put back on a pedestal. But in any meaningful relationship, you're bound to have others express good will toward you. I can't keep slipping away from people just because I'm scared of someone misunderstanding who I am.

#I'm fine btw it's just something I've been thinking about

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ridetherain · 3 years

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Febuwhump Day 7

Febuwhump Day 7: Poisoning

Rating: G

Words: 2379

Fandom: Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild

Poisoned

After pulling the Master Sword, Link found his life much changed. Moving to the barracks within Castle Town felt similar to his regular soldier quarters in Hateno Garrison, but the city was very different. His old garrison was some distance from the nearest towns, and any mischief stirred up by soldiers was unlikely to be discovered by the public. The ruckus and gambling antics kicked up by the uncouth soldiers were generally ignored. In contrast, people of all kings surrounded the castle barracks. The city folk viewed the soldier's training as a sort of entertainment. The practice yard always had a crowd which kept the soldiers relatively on-task with their training and exercise. Families came with their unruly children and let them mimic the soldiers, and the servants used the area as a breakroom. Occasionally, the captains would lead an exercise for the older boys as a pre-recruitment opportunity. Young women were always around during these sessions as it was their best opportunity to flirt with the soldiers in training. The nobles weren't immune to the fervor surrounding the training yard either. They tended to stop on a walkway and gaze down at the warriors before turning and bustling away whenever another noble happened across the same path.

Several times, in the heat of midday, the Princess even paused on the noble walkway. She gazed down at the orderly sea of soldiers and knights from high above like an angel looking down from the heavens. The men were not unaware of her presence; they worked harder in her view, the ones sparing took more risks, and the ones running moved faster - even Link found himself striking his dummy harder and transitioning between attacks quicker. The air was thick with tension in the yard, and it only broke when the Princess turned her back and continued into the castle. It seemed that the whole company exhaled when the doors closed behind her form. Whispers broke out all around whenever she disappeared from view.

"...the goddess..."

"...Hylia on earth.."

"...beautiful..."

That was another difference between Hateno and Castle Town. Everyone in Castle Town was devout in their piety to the Goddess Hylia. They recognized the old goddesses but did not worship them any longer. Only Hylia filled the hearts of the people here and all others were cast aside. Pockets of the old faith lived in the people around rural Hyrule, and Link himself was raised to know and love the Goddess Hylia in addition to the old goddesses. The Goddess Farore oversaw his birth in the spring, so he worshiped her above all others. She was the patron of his birth, the land he was raised on in Faron, and, now that he pulled the Sacred Sword, patron of his Courage. Link's worship was not widely known but, it would likely cause a stir even without the added interest as Hylia's Chosen. The people of Castle Town were fascinated by the Spirit of the Hero. The children would look from face to face in the crowd of soldiers trying to discern which sweaty body belonged to Hylia's favorite. Their eyes would skip over him and hesitate on the tall and the bulky. It was welcome at first but insidiously worked in Link's subconscious. Why was he chosen? A bigger man, a more devout one, or a more charismatic one would be better than him.

They were used to seeing Hylia on earth when they looked at their Princess. It alarmed them that the Chosen was among them, but hidden. When Link wasn't training in the yard he was put to work as a royal guard. Despite the name, he generally spent his time guarding High Priest Volk instead of the royal family. Volk's fervor for Hylia was off-putting to nearly everyone around him which made him a prime target for pranks but not real attacks. He berated everyone for their failure to observe their devotions to the Goddess to his satisfaction while simultaneously shirking every tenant that he didn't personally agree with. Even the King was not safe from his admonishments though he was kinder about it with the monarch. The Princess took the brunt of his ire and could be seen standing steadfast as he accused the vilest concoctions his mind could invent. She was less than her mother, too frivolous for the Goddess's favor, not pertinacious enough to convince anyone of her worthiness, too emotional for wisdom. The list went on, and the Priest never relented even when the Princess stood before him with a straight back, clasped hands, and a wet face. She endured all manner of physical torments at the behest of the horrid man as well. He would dump buckets of water on the floor to simulate the sacred springs and order days of fasting for her to keep vigil in the temple without rest. When he ran out of steam he would send the Princess to the statue of the Goddess to pray alone while he preached to those who witnessed his tirades.

Volk spared Link his attitude for the first week of guard duty. The Priest seemed to find him lacking but kept quiet since he bore a physical reminder of the Goddess's favor on his back. He was spared, that is, until the Priest caught sight of a wooden talisman sewen to the inside of his tabard. The circular charm was fashioned in the shape of the Mark of Farore and the High Priest nearly fainted at the sight.

"What is that!" He cried in genuine fear. "You are the chosen of Hylia, why do you wear that blasphemous symbol?"

Link looked down at his tabard and back up at the Priest. The Mark was barely visible and pressed to the inside of his uniform. It was a wonder that the Volk had noticed it at all much less recognize the shape for what it was.

"You must remove that device at once," Volk ordered, "It is an affront to decency for Hylia's chosen to wear the device of a different goddess. We do not worship Farore in Hyrule, Master Hero, you cannot think to dishonor yourself with this blasphemy."

The High Priest of Hylia seemed to think that was enough of a rebuke to end a lifetime of devotion. He turned on his heel and walked back into the Temple to begin a new sermon. Link followed behind and stood guard while listening to the lecture on the evils of straying from Hylia and the depraved practices of those who loved Farore. He seemed to think that Link was planning to ritually sacrifice half of Castle Town and then eat the remains. At best, the ignorance was obviously false, at worst, it was actively demonizing Link's family and friends in Faron. By the time Volk was suggesting that the Princess's powers were locked away until such time as the country turned from "false deities" Link was seething behind his blank poker face. When he suggested a quick remedy of shifting the line of succession to a cousin Link was forced to turn his back on the priest under the pretense of facing the statue of Hylia. The Princess still knelt in the damp on the floor in obeisance to an unmoved Goddess. Several days of standing the nave while High Priest Volk made oblique references to Link's "barbaric" worship of Farore and Farosh gave Link all the practice he needed in keeping a straight face and his mouth shut. The vitriol became commonplace and Volk never escalated beyond preaching. Link was not required to like his charge so he stood at attention and let the words wash over him. The common people didn't know about this war of words and silence between the two men. A fervor began to take hold of the community, who believed the High Priest's sudden interest in the old goddesses was in response to a demand from Hylia herself. Volk was revered more than ever now that the people believed that Hylia spoke to him directly.

So, it was odd a few weeks later when Link was nearly done with his shift and saw that nearly no one showed up for the last service of the day. The temple was clear of the usual devotees, and the High Priest looked harried. Link was immediately on his guard, nothing was out of place, there was no suspicious activity or person, but the air felt different. His instincts screamed at him to return to the castle where a whole army was in residence.

"My lord, High Priest," Link said in a low voice, "I believe we should return to the castle. I am concerned that the congregation has not appeared. It is unusual, and I believe you can observe the required rituals from the chapel."

"No." Volk said crisply, "You do not understand the importance of this worship. Since few are here, come closer and observe the practice fully. I insist."

Link ground his teeth together. He could force the priest to return to the castle. He was allowed to force his charge to observe any safety requirements as he saw fit. But should Volk take offense, then he could retaliate. He could make Link's worship of Farore public, which would turn the citizens and possibly the royal family against him. Volk's followers could be convinced to turn their back on not only Link but also the Princess and the prophecy. It was better to get his consent.

"I worship Hylia daily, sir. I am familiar with the forms and I am certain they can be performed in the chapel. I would prefer your safety is assured."

Volk gave a pretentious sniff but bowed to Link's experience. They hurried together back to the castle and found a mob at the gate. They were shouting incomprehensively and pushing against each other, all trying to get as close to the closed doors as possible. Nervous-looking sentries stood guard on top of the wall looking down at the people. Link pulled the Priest to a side door before anyone could recognize either one of them. The sconces were unlit, and the hallway was dark. The stone floors didn't have any carpeting, and the bare walls left the enclosed space chilly.

"Apologies, my Lord." Link said in an undertone, "We will need to cross through the servant's quarters to avoid the throng. Please wait here while I ensure that none of the crowd has entered as we did."

"I want a second guard starting tomorrow," The Priest returned, too loudly, "This is unacceptable."

To keep from rolling his eyes, Link scouted the corridor, and found no unusual people wandering the halls. Several rooms were occupied by castle staff, of course.

"...poison they said..."

"...too late..."

The stable boys were gossiping in their rooms. Link tried to ignore their words until he had a chance to get some real information. He returned for Volk and led him through the maze of corridors until they reached a better lit hall, and Volk seemed to recognize where he was. He took the lead and led Link in the wrong direction for the chapel. They were following a direct path to the royal quarters and from there to the council room. Link took a step inside, did a sweep of the room, then stepped out and nodded to Volk before taking his place outside the door. Other council members trickled in over the next hour until the King arrived, and an impromptu session began. Relief guards arrived when Link's eyes started to blink more frequently, and his stomach rumbled ominously. He quickly made his way to food and information.

The mess hall was packed with the day-shift guards and the afternoon patrol which was apparently pulled in early. Link found a table with the Court Poet, Shant, and a young knight, Zain, who Link found to be restful company and good for local recommendations since he grew up in Castle Town.

"Zain," Link said in greeting. Zain nodded his welcome and moved his tray slightly as an invitation to sit.

"What's going on?" Link asked in a low voice. Despite the press of people, it wasn't loud in the hall. Everyone looked over their shoulders and whispered in hushed voices to their friends.

"The Princess," Zain said, "She's in the infirmary, and they've locked down the castle. Closed the gates and whisked the King off someplace. They say she's been murdered, and the King is dying as well."

Link's heart clenched. This was a disaster. With Ganon on the way and no royal family left they would be sitting ducks. But, he had seen the King not long ago. They couldn't have taken him out of the council room without Link noticing.

"The King is fine. I saw him enter the council room midafternoon, and he was still there when I was relieved a few minutes ago."

"The Princess is alive but unwell," Put in Shant, "I saw her to the infirmary. The doctor said something about silencing a princess, so it must be malicious. I'd guess poison."

Link tuned them out. This Princess was a magnet for danger. It must have been horribly difficult for her to be poisoned right now since the High Priest was restricting her to a cruel fasting regime. There simply wasn't enough opportunity with fewer meals sent to the Princess every day. Unless... Volk clearly was not pleased with the Goddess's chosen duo. The Princess was powerless, and he had made his opposition to Link very clear over the past few weeks. The common people believed the Princess to be the Goddess. It was only the nobility that thought of the Princess as someone replaceable. It was only Volk who policed the Princess's food.

Link couldn't accuse Volk outright. He didn't have enough clout in court. And Volk knew about his Faronian roots, which could turn the King against him. He needed evidence. The spirit of the hero within him screamed for the threat to his Zelda's life to be removed. He would find the proof... After he found an excuse to visit her in the infirmary. She didn't really know him but he needed to see with his own eyes that she lived. She was his to protect.

#febuwhump #febuwhumpday7 #loz botw #loz #botw #rainworks

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lovehaswonangelnumbers · 4 years

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New Post has been published on https://lovehaswonangelnumbers.org/the-lionsgate-88-portal/

The Lionsgate 88 Portal

By Tanaaz

The Lionsgate 88 Portal is activated by the numerology of 8/8, the Sun in Leo Season, and the rising of the star, Sirius. This combination of energy opens a galactic portal that allows high vibrational energy to be sent to Earth, which we can all tune in and connect with.

The Lionsgate 88 Portal peaks on the 8th day of the 8th month, but we are likely to feel the current of its energy before and after this date too.

In numerology, the 8th day of the 8th month is a highly spiritual and charged time.

The number 8 represents infinity – the infinite soul that we are and the infinite journey that we take. It represents the “forever conscious” part of our soul; the soul that has lived and will continue to live long after this incarnation.

8 is also the number associated with DNA activation, abundance, power, and higher realms of consciousness, making 8/8 a super potent time to charge and clear our energy for receiving.

Lionsgate is not just about numerology but also astrology, and involves the Sun in its ruling sign of Leo and the rising of the star Sirius.

Sirius is one of the brightest stars in the sky and is known as our Spiritual Sun. While our earthly Sun illuminates our physical world which is an illusion, our Spiritual Sun illuminates the truth of our timeless soul.

The ancients were very in tune with the star Sirus, as they believed it was the gateway to heaven and the home of higher vibrational beings. They believed the energy of Sirius carried highly advanced wisdom that we could tap into and utilize whenever Sirius was strong in the sky.

Sirius Rising at this time of year was a special and sacred occasion and marked the start of the new year. The ancients would also observe things happening to Mother Earth as well.

In Ancient Egypt, the rising of Sirius coincided with the flooding of the Nile. They viewed this as a gift of prosperity and fertility and revered Sirius so much, they even aligned their pyramids with its rising as well.

There are also theories that the pyramids would act as transmitters, helping to amplify the energy of Sirius in order to channel and download its messages with greater ease.

The Great Sphinx with its lion-like qualities, also aligns with the Leo zodiac during this time of year. This alignment is believed to aid in the receiving of Divine messages from both Isis and Anubis, the Gods connected to Sirius.

It wasn’t just the Egyptians that revered Sirius, all across the world from the Mayans, to the Sumerians, Babylonians, and the Dogon tribe, there is a strong connection with this bright blue star.

While our Sun is responsible for beaming down life for our physical bodies, especially when it’s in its ruling sign of Leo, Sirius is responsible for beaming down life for our spiritual bodies.

This is why the opening of the Lionsgate Portal can bring awakenings and lift our consciousness to new heights.

Here are a few things we can set an intention to experience under Lionsgate:

Heart healings: the Lionsgate portal activates the heart chakra. Old or even current wounds of the heart may rise up for healing. We may finally feel free from any grief or sadness that has burdened our hearts. For more guidance with this, read How to Open and Clear Blocks in your Heart Chakra.

Third eye awakenings: the Lionsgate portal also activates the third eye chakra. We may feel more intuitive or learn something new about the way our intuition speaks to us. Our intuition is likely to be strong and if this is something we want to work with more, the Lionsgate portal is a great time to begin. For more, read how to Open and Activate your Third Eye Chakra.

Higher Chakra Openings: while we have seven main chakras or energy centers in our body, we also have hundreds of smaller, more sensitive chakras that can be activated and awakened during the Lionsgate Portal. This helps us to tap into new wisdom and higher spiritual knowledge.

Psychic downloads: with the high vibrational energy from Sirus beaming our way, we are more likely to receive psychic downloads. These can come through our dreams, visions, spirit guides and angels, or through simply hearing things while in a state of relaxation. Meditation and automatic writing are great ways to open to this energy and to receive guidance.

Visitations: the ancients believed that Sirius was home to heaven, angels, and other worldly beings. Under the Lionsgate Portal energy, we are more likely to receive messages, dreams, signs, and visits from our loved ones who have passed and from our spirit guides and guardian angels. Encountering alien beings may also be more likely too.

Freedom: one of the strongest vibrations from Sirius is this energy of freedom. The idea is that our earthly Sun illuminates this physical world which is an illusion. But Sirius illuminates our soul and spiritual bodies, which is the truth. By understanding this, we gain a sense of freedom.

Peace: Sirius has very peaceful vibrations too, so spending time in nature and meditation is a great way to tap into this peaceful energy and use it for healing and restoring your mind, body, and soul.

Technology: Sirius is also associated with highly advanced technology. If you have a new tech innovation or would like to start a website, blog, app, or anything else related to technology, this would be great energy to use to your advantage.

Creativity: Lionsgate is also a highly creative time and the perfect opportunity to try a new creative project or to take action on a creative project you have been looking to get off the ground.

The energy of Lionsgate can connect us with the cosmic skies, galactic frequencies, higher dimensional beings, and our own intuition.

It can also activate heart healings, the expansion of spiritual wisdom, and help us awaken to our true potential.

On Lionsgate 88 set an intention of how you wish to use this energy, and then create a ritual or practice that allows you to harness and work with it.

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orthodoxydaily · 3 years

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Saints&Reading: Sat., Jan. 30, 2021

Commemorated on January 17_by the new calendar

Saint Anthony the Great ( 356)

The Monk Anthony, a very great ascetic, the founder of wilderness-monastery life and as such the father of monasticism, is entitled "the Great" by Holy Church. He was born in Egypt in the village of Coma, near the Thebaid wilderness, in the year 251. His parents were pious Christians of illustrious lineage. From his youth Anthony was always serious and given over to concentration. He loved to visit church services and he hearkened to the Holy Scripture with such deep attention, that he remembered what he heard all his entire life. The commandments of the Lord guided him from the time of his very youth. When Saint Anthony was about twenty years old, he lost his parents, but in his care remained his sister, a minor in age. Visiting the church services, the youth was pierced through by a reverent feeling towards those Christians who, as it relates in the Acts of the Apostles, sold off their possessions and the proceeds thereof they applied in following after the Apostles. He heard in church the Gospel passage of Christ, spoken to the rich young man: "If thou wouldst be perfect, sell what thou hast and give it to the poor; and thou wilt have treasure in heaven; and come follow after Me" (Mt. 19: 21). Anthony understood this as spoken to him personally. He sold off his property that remained to him after the death of his parents, he distributed the money to the poor, he left his sister in the care of pious virgins in a monastic setting, he left his parental home, and having settled not far from his village in a wretched hut, he began his ascetic life. He earned his livelihood by working with his hands, and alms also for the poor. Sometimes the holy youth also visited other ascetics living in the surrounding areas, and from each he sought to receive direction and benefit. And to a particular one of these ascetics he turned for guidance in the spiritual life.

In this period of his life the Monk Anthony was subjected to terrible temptations by the devil. The enemy of the race of man troubled the young ascetic with thoughts, and with doubts about his chosen path, with anguish over his sister, and he attempted to incline Anthony towards fleshly sin. But the monk preserved his firm faith, he incessantly made prayer and intensified his efforts. Anthony prayed that the Lord would point out to him the path of salvation. And he was granted a vision. The ascetic beheld a man, who by turns alternately finished a prayer, and then began to work – this was an Angel, which the Lord had sent to instruct His chosen one. The monk thereupon set up a strict schedule for his life. He partook of food only once in the entire day, and sometimes only once every second or third day; he spent all night at prayer, giving himself over to a short sleep only on the third or fourth night after unbroken vigil. But the devil would not desist with his tricks, and trying to scare the monk, he appeared under the guise of monstrous phantoms. The saint however with steadfast faith protected himself with the Life-Creating Cross. Finally the enemy appeared to him in the guise of a frightful looking black lad, and hypocritically declaring himself beaten, he reckoned to sway the saint into vanity and pride. But the monk expelled the enemy with prayer. For yet greater solitude, the saint re-settled farther away from the village, in a graveyard. On designated days his friend brought him a scant bit of food. And here the devils, pouncing upon the saint with the intent to kill him, inflicted upon him terrible beatings. But the Lord would not allow the death of Anthony. The friend of the saint, on schedule taking him his food, saw him as though dead laying upon the ground, and he took him away back to the village. They thought the saint was dead and began to prepare for his burial. But the monk in the deep of night regained consciousness and besought his friend to take him back to the graveyard. The staunchness of Saint Anthony was greater than the wile of the enemy. Taking the form of ferocious beasts, the devils again tried to force the saint to forsake the place chosen by him, but he again expelled them by the power of the Life-Creating Cross. The Lord strengthened the power of His saint: in the heat of the struggle with the dark powers the monk saw coming down to him from the sky a luminous ray of light, and he cried out: "Where hast Thou been, O Merciful Jesus?.. Why hast Thou not healed my wounds at the very start?" The Lord replied: "Anthony! I was here, but did wait, wanting to see thine valour; and now after this, since thou hast firmly withstood the struggle, I shalt always aid thee and glorify thee throughout all the world". After this vision the Monk Anthony was healed of his wounds and ready for renewed efforts. He was then 35 years of age. Having gained spiritual experience in the struggle with the devil, the Monk Anthony pondered going into the deeps of the Thebaid wilderness, and in full solitude there to serve the Lord by deed and by prayer. He besought the ascetic elder (to whom he had turned at the beginning of his monastic journey) to go off together with him into the wilderness, but the elder, while blessing him in the then as yet unheard of exploit of being suchlike an hermit, decided against accompanying him because of the infirmity of age. The Monk Anthony went off into the wilderness alone. The devil tried to stop him, throwing in front of the monk precious gems and stones, but the saint paid them no attention and passed them on by. Having reached a certain hilly spot, the monk caught sight of an abandoned enclosed structure and he settled within it, securing the entrance with stones. His faithful friend brought him bread twice a year, and water he had inside the enclosure. In complete silence the monk partook of the food brought him. The Monk Anthony dwelt for 20 years in complete isolation and incessant struggle with the devils, and he finally found tranquillity of spirit and peace in his mind. When it became appropriate, the Lord revealed to people about His great ascetic. The saint had to instruct many layfolk and monastics. The people gathering at the enclosure of the monk removed the stones sealing his entrance way, and they went to Saint Anthony and besought him to take them under his guidance. Soon the heights on which Saint Anthony asceticised was encircled by a whole belt of monastic communities, and the monk fondly directed their inhabitants, teaching about the spiritual life to everyone who came into the wilderness to be saved. He taught first of all the need to take up spiritual efforts, to unremittingly strive to please the Lord, to have a willing and unselfish attitude towards types of work shunned earlier. He urged them not to be afraid of demonic assaults and to repel the enemy by the power of the Life-Creating Cross of the Lord. In the year 311 the Church was beset by a trial – a fierce persecution against Christians, set in motion by the emperor Maximian. Wanting to suffer together with the holy martyrs, the Monk Anthony left the wilderness and arrived in Alexandria. He openly rendered aid to the imprisoned martyrs, he was present at the trial and interrogations, but the torturers would not even bother with him! It pleased the Lord to preserve him for the benefit of Christians. With the close of the persecution, the monk returned to the wilderness and continued his exploits. The Lord bestowed upon His saint a gift of wonderworking: the monk cast out devils and healed the sick by the power of his prayer. The multitude of people coming to him disrupted his solitude, and the monk went off still farther, into the so-called "interiour of the wilderness", and he settled atop an high elevation. But the brethren of the wilderness monasteries searched out the monk and besought him at least often to pay visits to their communities. Another time the Monk Anthony left the wilderness and arrived amidst the Christians in Alexandria, to defend the Orthodox faith against the Manichaean and Arian heresies. Knowing that the name of the Monk Anthony was venerated by all the Church, the Arians circulated a lie about him – that he allegedly adhered to their heretical teaching. But actually being present in Alexandria, the Monk Anthony in front of everyone and in the presence of the bishop openly denounced Arianism. During the time of his brief stay at Alexandria he converted to Christ a great multitude of pagans. Pagan philosophers came to the monk, wanting by their speculations to test his firm faith, but by his simple and convincing words he reduced them to silence. The Equal-to-the-Apostles emperor Constantine the Great (+ 337, Comm. 21 May) and his sons deeply esteemed the Monk Anthony and besought him to visit them at the capital, but the monk did not want to forsake his wilderness brethren. In reply to the letter, he urged the emperor not to be overcome with pride by his lofty position, but rather to remember, that even over him was the Impartial Judge – the Lord God. The Monk Anthony spent 85 years of his life in the solitary wilderness. Shortly before his death, the monk told the brethren, that soon he would be taken from them. Time and again he instructed them to preserve the Orthodox faith in its purity, to shun any association with heretics, and not to weaken in their monastic efforts. "Strive the yet more to dwell ever in unity amongst ye, and most of all with the Lord, and then with the saints, so that upon death they should bring ye into eternity by their blood, as friends and acquaintances", – thus were the death-bed words of the monk passed on in his Vita (Life). The monk bid two of his disciples, who had been together with him the final 15 years of his life, to bury him in the wilderness and not arrange any solemn burial of his remains in Alexandria. Of his two monastic mantles, the monk left one to Sainted Athanasias of Alexandria (Comm. 18 January), the other to Sainted Serapion of Tmunta. The Monk Anthony died peacefully in the year 356, at age 105, and he was buried by his disciples at a treasured spot glorified by him in the wilderness. The Vita (Life) of the famed ascetic the Monk Anthony the Great was written in detail by a father of the Church, Saint Athanasias of Alexandria. This work of Saint Athanasias is the first memorial of Orthodox hagiography, and is considered one of the finest of his writings; Saint John Chrysostom says, that this Vita should be read by every Christian. "These narratives be significantly small in comparison with the virtues of Anthony, – writes Saint Athanasias, – but from them ye can conclude, what the man of God Anthony was like. From his youth into his mature years observing an equal zeal for asceticism, not being seduced by the avenues of filth, and not as regards infirmity of body altering his garb, nor the any worse for it in suffering harm. His eyes were healthy and unfailing and he saw well. Not one tooth fell out for him, and they only weakened at the gums from the advanced years of age. He was healthy of hand and of foot (...). And what they said about him everywhere, all being amazed at him, whereof even those that did not see him loved him – this serves as evidence of his virtue and love for God in soul". Of the works of the Monk Anthony himself, there have come down to us: 1) his Discourses, 20 in number, treating of the virtues, primarily monastic, 2) Seven Letters to monasteries – about striving for moral perfection and regarding the spiritual struggle, and 3) a Rule of life and consolation for monastics. In the year 544 the relics of the Monk Anthony the great were transferred from the wilderness to Alexandria, and later on with the conquest of Egypt by the Saracens in the VII Century, they were transferred to Constantinople. The holy relics were transferred from Constantinople in the X-XI Centuries to a diocese outside Vienna, and in the XV Century – to Arles (in France), into the church of Saint Julian.

Matthew 11:27-30

27All things have been delivered to Me by My Father, and no one knows the Son except the Father. Nor does anyone know the Father except the Son, and the one to whom the Son wills to reveal Him.28 Come to Me, all you who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. 29 Take My yoke upon you and learn from Me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.30 For My yoke is easy and My burden is light.

Hebrews 13:17-21

17Obey those who rule over you, and be submissive, for they watch out for your souls, as those who must give account. Let them do so with joy and not with grief, for that would be unprofitable for you. 18 Pray for us; for we are confident that we have a good conscience, in all things desiring to live honorably.19 But I especially urge you to do this, that I may be restored to you the sooner. 20 Now may the God of peace who brought up our Lord Jesus from the dead, that great Shepherd of the sheep, through the blood of the everlasting covenant, 21 make you complete in every good work to do His will, working in you what iswell pleasing in His sight, through Jesus Christ, to whom be glory forever and ever. Amen.

#orthodoxy #orthodoxchristianity #ancientchristianity #originofchristianity #spirituality #holyscripture #gospel #sacredtexts #wisdom

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hopelessromanticspoonie · 5 years

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My Love Awaits

Summary: A bittersweet tale of what Loki might find once he finally walks through death’s door.

Rating: PG-13 for death and brief mentions of blood.

Taglist (open): @yespolkadotkitty @just-the-hiddles @nonsensicalobsessions @vodka-and-some-sass @he-is-chaotic-she-is-psychotic

A/N: I believe I got this idea from a prompt I saw on here, but I can’t for the life of me find it. If this concept sounds like something you’d put into prompt form, please let me know so I can credit you properly!

Here is the song that I listened to while writing this fic: Sleep by Eric Whitacre

He knew the day would come.

The day when his cunning would fail him, when his speed and strength wouldn’t be enough, and he would fall to the blade of his opponent.

For all of his bravado, his ferocity and strength, he was tired.

He had been fighting for so long, working to protect his long lost love’s precious Midgard, warring alongside several iterations of your beloved Avengers in your honor and nothing else. You had pleaded with him, as you took your own dying breaths upon the battlefield, that he would protect your friends, your family, your people.

And the stubborn fool that he was had granted that dying wish.

The other? That he attempt to move on with his life, seek happiness with another, remain open to love? That was a vow that he could not uphold.

He hadn’t closed himself off to the idea, but no real effort had been put forth to see it through. How could any other woman, mortal or otherwise, hold his attention when the contours of your likeness had etched itself onto his mind’s eye? What was he to find in another when he knew the depths of your love? What could compare to the sound of his name on your lips, the softness of your skin beneath his calloused fingertips, the warmth and light in your eyes when you looked at him like he was the most wonderful being in the nine realms?

Every other had seemed dull in comparison, so he simply lived to fulfill his duty to you.

And, as he lay gasping for air as the warmth of his blood coated his rapidly chilling skin, he could only hope that he would not see you in the Hel that he was surely destined for as his emerald eyes lost their luster and stared unseeing up into the overcast heavens.

It was as simple as falling asleep, sinking into the darkness that beckoned him, and when he regained awareness of his surroundings, he saw not the forests that would lead him to his justified end, but a building of grand proportions. The roof was thatched with golden shields that glimmered in the yellow sunlight, shining brilliantly. Fields of grass waving in the breeze stretched into the horizon, the faint rustling of their movements a soothing symphony to accompany raucous laughter from within the expansive structure before him.

His awestruck eyes took in the familiar face he hadn’t seen in many years, taken by battle as she would have wanted. Dressed in her gray well-fitted armor befitting her station, the Valkyrie closest to his blundering, but well-meaning brother regarded him with an unreadable expression: Brunhilde.

She appeared in her prime, dark skin glowing and body fit for battle. While she had grated on his nerves, treating him and his brother with far less respect than was warranted, he had to admire her fighting prowess and fierce determination. Brunhilde was not one to be trifled with, and that knowledge was bestowed upon anyone dull enough to spar with her.

She approached him from where she had been leaning against a broad golden tree that stretched farther than should be possible, a swagger in her step that spoke of her rejuvenated body. He glanced down at his own form, slender and strong beneath his simple black tunic and pants. The vitality of his youth thrummed in his blood, as strong as the magic that he felt deep in his core.

“She was right,” the Valkyrie called, bluntly pulling him from his self-inspection.

He lifted his head to her, cocking a brow. “She?”

Brunhilde stopped just feet away from him, settling her weight on one hip and crossing her arms over her stomach. “She swore to us all that you would return to her here, but there were some who doubted her. It seems many owe her a debt.”

His heart leapt into his throat at the implications of her words, but he tamped down that hope just as quickly as it resurfaced. She couldn’t be talking about you, surely not. You were mortal. Were mortals allowed here? If they were, you would be found among those walls.

If anyone was worthy of such an honor, it was his beloved.

He moved passed the troublesome Valkyrie without further comment, intent upon sorting out her riddle in the most straightforward method possible. After a moment’s hesitation just outside of the wooden doors, he shoved them aside, striding into the room with a keen eye already searching the faces of those within.

Jubilant faces stretched as far as the eye could see, grinning from ear to ear and roaring with laughter. The smell of mead, thick and sweet, hung low in the air, filling the tankards across the many tables of fallen soldiers before him. Among the din, faint song could be heard, the youthful voice clear and bright as it told tales of the battles that had brought so many souls to fill the benches and bring life to the hall of the fallen warriors.

And there, standing in the midst of it all, you were, your own watery smile gracing your angelic face.

His long limbs ate up the distance between you in no time at all, and he took you into his arms, holding you so tightly to his chest that you weren’t sure where you ended and he began.

“Welcome to Valhalla, Loki,” you said quietly, words muffled by his neck where your head had found its natural resting place. Your voice was a bird’s song, the sweetest music to his weary ears.

His eyes closed to fully immerse himself in the moment, memorizing the feel of your soft curves against the hard planes of his body. You felt just as you had the last time he had held you, pulled from his iron grip too soon. You smelled not of copper and sweat, but of the natural scent of your skin, fresh and clean and so very you that he could breathe it in for the rest of his days and never have his fill. His whole being sighed in sweet relief that he hadn’t known for as long as he could remember.

“It is you,” he whispered, pulling back enough to cradle your face in his deft-fingered hands, stroking your cheeks reverently as he drank you in like a man dying of thirst.

And he had been. Thousands of years he had waited for this moment, hoping against his better judgment that he would have the honor and pleasure of staring upon your exquisite face again. His heart, once broken and cold, pounded in his chest, swelling against his ribs and threatening to burst with happiness and relief he could barely contain.

You were here. You were whole and lovely and a balm for the wounds that had cut deep into his soul ages ago.

He curled his body around yours, claiming your mouth for his in a thorough kiss into which he poured all of his love and passion for you, uncaring who saw the very public display of his affections. He would shout it from the gilded rooftops, willingly swear fealty to your glory, if it meant that the world knew you belonged to one another.

You were both breathless by the time he pulled away, ending the kiss only so his eyes could open and take you in as he rested his forehead against yours. He had been granted the most wondrous gift, to be reunited with you, and nothing could surpass this moment.

It didn’t matter that tears of the purest joy glistened in his eyes, or that he was smiling like the most lovestruck fool. He had never known bliss and safety as all-encompassing. It settled over his soul like a comforting blanket, granting him peace unlike any he had ever known.

Your hands curled into the fabric of his tunic, holding him to you as you beamed up at him, radiant and glowing like the sunlight that streamed in through the large windows set high into the walls.

“It’s me, sweetheart. And now you can rest, knowing that you have earned your place in this hallowed hall.”

He anchored his lips to your forehead, bringing you back into the safety of his arms as he looked over your head at the kind figure of his late mother, Frigga, illuminated against the flames of a roaring fire that danced at the end of the hall. She dipped her chin to him in a slow nod of salutation, and even from such a distance, he could easily read the pride that reflected in her winsome features.

“Rest does sound most welcome.”

#loki fluff #loki angst #loki x reader #loki #loki odinson #valhalla #loki laufeyson #loki friggason #queen frigga #frigga allmother #frigga #loki fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #hopelesswrites #my love awaits

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roman-catholic-mass-readings · 3 years

Photo

15th May >> Mass Readings (USA)

Saturday before Ascension Sunday

Saint Isidore the Farmer.

Saturday before Ascension Sunday

(Liturgical Colour: White)

First Reading

Acts of the Apostles 18:23-28

Apollos established from the Scriptures that the Christ is Jesus.

After staying in Antioch some time, Paul left and traveled in orderly sequence through the Galatian country and Phrygia, bringing strength to all the disciples.

A Jew named Apollos, a native of Alexandria, an eloquent speaker, arrived in Ephesus. He was an authority on the Scriptures. He had been instructed in the Way of the Lord and, with ardent spirit, spoke and taught accurately about Jesus, although he knew only the baptism of John. He began to speak boldly in the synagogue; but when Priscilla and Aquila heard him, they took him aside and explained to him the Way of God more accurately. And when he wanted to cross to Achaia, the brothers encouraged him and wrote to the disciples there to welcome him. After his arrival he gave great assistance to those who had come to believe through grace. He vigorously refuted the Jews in public, establishing from the Scriptures that the Christ is Jesus.

The Word of the Lord

R/ Thanks be to God.

Responsorial Psalm

Psalm 47:2-3, 8-9, 10

R/ God is king of all the earth. or R/ Alleluia.

All you peoples, clap your hands; shout to God with cries of gladness. For the LORD, the Most High, the awesome, is the great king over all the earth.

R/ God is king of all the earth. or R/ Alleluia.

For king of all the earth is God; sing hymns of praise. God reigns over the nations, God sits upon his holy throne.

R/ God is king of all the earth. or R/ Alleluia.

The princes of the peoples are gathered together with the people of the God of Abraham. For God’s are the guardians of the earth; he is supreme.

R/ God is king of all the earth. or R/ Alleluia.

Gospel Acclamation

John 16:28

Alleluia, alleluia. I came from the Father and have come into the world; now I am leaving the world and going back to the Father. Alleluia, alleluia.

Gospel

John 16:23b-28

My Father loves you because you have loved me and believed in me.

Jesus said to his disciples: “Amen, amen, I say to you, whatever you ask the Father in my name he will give you. Until now you have not asked anything in my name; ask and you will receive, so that your joy may be complete.

“I have told you this in figures of speech. The hour is coming when I will no longer speak to you in figures but I will tell you clearly about the Father. On that day you will ask in my name, and I do not tell you that I will ask the Father for you. For the Father himself loves you, because you have loved me and have come to believe that I came from God. I came from the Father and have come into the world. Now I am leaving the world and going back to the Father.”

The Gospel of the Lord

R/ Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Saint Isidore the Farmer

(Liturgical Colour: White)

(Readings for the memorial)

(There is a choice today between the readings for the ferial day (Saturday) and those for the memorial. The ferial readings are recommended unless pastoral reasons suggest otherwise)

Either:

First Reading

Acts of the Apostles 4:32-35

The community of believers was of one heart and mind.

The community of believers was of one heart and mind, and no one claimed that any of his possessions was his own, but they had everything in common. With great power the Apostles bore witness to the resurrection of the Lord Jesus, and great favor was accorded them all. There was no needy person among them, for those who owned property or houses would sell them, bring the proceeds of the sale, and put them at the feet of the Apostles, and they were distributed to each according to need.

The Word of the Lord

R/ Thanks be to God.

Or:

First Reading

Revelation 3:14b, 20-22

I will dine with him and he with me.

The Amen, the faithful and true witness, the source of God’s creation, says this: “Behold, I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, then I will enter his house and dine with him and he with me. I will give the victor the right to sit with me on my throne, as I myself first won the victory and sit with my Father on his throne.

“Whoever has ears ought to hear what the Spirit says to the churches.”

The Word of the Lord

R/ Thanks be to God.

Or:

First Reading

Revelation 19:1, 5-9

Blessed are those who have been called to the wedding feast of the Lamb.

I, John, heard what sounded like the loud voice of a great multitude in heaven, saying:

“Alleluia! Salvation, glory, and might belong to our God.”

A voice coming from the throne said:

“Praise our God, all you his servants, and you who revere him, small and great.”

Then I heard something like the sound of a great multitude or the sound of rushing water or mighty peals of thunder, as they said:

“Alleluia! The Lord has established his reign, our God, the almighty. Let us rejoice and be glad and give him glory. For the wedding day of the Lamb has come, his bride has made herself ready. She was allowed to wear a bright, clean linen garment.”

(The linen represents the righteous deeds of the holy ones.) Then the angel said to me, “Write this: Blessed are those who have been called to the wedding feast of the Lamb.”

The Word of the Lord

R/ Thanks be to God.

Or:

First Reading

Revelation 21:5-7

To the thirsty I will give a gift from the spring of life-giving water.

The One who was seated on the throne said: “Behold, I make all things new.” Then he said, “Write these words down, for they are trustworthy and true.” He said to me, “They are accomplished. I am the Alpha and the Omega, the beginning and the end. To the thirsty I will give a gift from the spring of life-giving water. The victor will inherit these gifts, and I shall be his God, and he will be my son.”

The Word of the Lord

R/ Thanks be to God.

Either:

Responsorial Psalm

Psalm 1:1-2, 3, 4 and 6

R/ Blessed are they who hope in the Lord. or R/ Blessed are they who delight in the law of the Lord. or R/ The just will flourish like the palm tree in the garden of the Lord.

Blessed the man who follows not the counsel of the wicked Nor walks in the way of sinners, nor sits in the company of the insolent, But delights in the law of the LORD and meditates on his law day and night.

R/ Blessed are they who hope in the Lord. or R/ Blessed are they who delight in the law of the Lord. or R/ The just will flourish like the palm tree in the garden of the Lord.

He is like a tree planted near running water, That yields its fruit in due season, and whose leaves never fade. Whatever he does, prospers.

R/ Blessed are they who hope in the Lord. or R/ Blessed are they who delight in the law of the Lord. or R/ The just will flourish like the palm tree in the garden of the Lord.

Not so, the wicked, not so; they are like chaff which the wind drives away. For the LORD watches over the way of the just, but the way of the wicked vanishes.

R/ Blessed are they who hope in the Lord. or R/ Blessed are they who delight in the law of the Lord. or R/ The just will flourish like the palm tree in the garden of the Lord.

Or:

Responsorial Psalm

Psalm 15:2-3a, 3bc-4ab, 5

R/ The just one shall live on your holy mountain, O Lord.

He who walks blamelessly and does justice; who thinks the truth in his heart and slanders not with his tongue.

R/ The just one shall live on your holy mountain, O Lord.

Who harms not his fellow man, nor takes up a reproach against his neighbor; By whom the reprobate is despised, while he honors those who fear the LORD.

R/ The just one shall live on your holy mountain, O Lord.

Who lends not his money at usury and accepts no bribe against the innocent. He who does these things shall never be disturbed.

R/ The just one shall live on your holy mountain, O Lord.

Or:

Responsorial Psalm

Psalm 16:1-2ab and 5, 7-8, 11

You are my inheritance, O Lord.

Keep me, O God, for in you I take refuge; I say to the LORD, “My Lord are you.” O LORD, my allotted portion and my cup, you it is who hold fast my lot.

You are my inheritance, O Lord.

I bless the LORD who counsels me; even in the night my heart exhorts me. I set the LORD ever before me; with him at my right hand I shall not be disturbed.

You are my inheritance, O Lord.

You will show me the path to life, fullness of joys in your presence, the delights at your right hand forever.

You are my inheritance, O Lord.

OR: --------

Responsorial Psalm Psalm 23:1-3, 4, 5, 6

The Lord is my shepherd; there is nothing I shall want.

The LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want. In verdant pastures he gives me repose; Beside restful waters he leads me; he refreshes my soul. He guides me on right paths for his name’s sake.

The Lord is my shepherd; there is nothing I shall want.

Even though I walk in the dark valley I fear no evil; for you are at my side With your rod and your staff that give me courage.

The Lord is my shepherd; there is nothing I shall want.

You spread the table before me in the sight of my foes; You anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows.

The Lord is my shepherd; there is nothing I shall want.

Only goodness and kindness follow me all the days of my life; And I shall dwell in the house of the LORD for years to come.

The Lord is my shepherd; there is nothing I shall want.

OR: --------

Responsorial Psalm Psalm 34:2-3, 4-5, 6-7, 8-9, 10-11