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lovinlikeloki · 3 years

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The Lone Wolf

Masterlist // 05

Warnings: Swearing

Word Count: 4.2k

I was in my wolf form when my cage was being opened, I looked to the twins' cells, Wanda nodded to me ever so subtly, flickered her hands slightly and I knew. It was time. The guard opened the barred door and I took my chance, I dug my claws into his chest, he began bleeding and I pushed harshly past him. I turned back to my human form and knocked him over the head hard enough to knock him out.

I took the keys to the twins' cells from his unconscious body and swung them around my left index finger. I smiled to the twins and they smiled back.

"So..." I smirked at them, "Who wants to escape from some science Nazis?"

I shoved the key into the lock of Wanda's cell and turned it, opening the door and she smiled at me, she ruffled my hair as she left the cell and we moved onto my beloved's cell. I put the key in and turned it impatiently, wanting to see him free. When the door opened he spared no time running over to me and engulfing me in his arms.

"I knew you could do it mi prințesa," he said into my hair and I pulled back from the hug.

(My princess)

"Of course, mo chroí, have I ever failed you yet?" I quirked an eyebrow at him.

(My heart)

"Enough," Wanda interrupted his answer, "You'll have time for all that when we are gone."

"She makes a point, a stór," I looked in my love's eyes before turning away.

(Darling)

"Wanda, you got the cameras in here, you have to do that before every room we enter, even then they probably know that we're escaping. Piet, I need you to get me a gun, as quick as you can, without getting caught. I'm busting us out of here and I don't care how many people's blood I spill as long as we get out alive," I order, I may be younger than them, but our escape was mostly my plan and they don't have any less respect for me because of my slight age difference.

"Got it," they replied before doing as asked. Wanda fucked with the camera in the next room and we took down the guards, Pietro picked up a gun and threw it to me, I caught it and felt the adrenaline coursing through my veins as I fiddled with the trigger.

I nodded to them and we began moving through the base. We made quick work of the guards that tried to capture us, a bullet shot here, some telekinetic intervention there, all in all it there didn't seem to be any problems.

We made it to the back exit and began leaving. That was when it happened. When we failed. When we were split up. We were running as fast as we could, leaving the god forsaken place when I turned around, just for a second, and saw Wanda missing.

"Mo ghrá, I said, "Where's Wanda?"

Pietro looked behind him and saw her gone as well, "I will find her," he told me before giving me a kiss on my forehead.

"Be quick," I told him, "Be safe. Come back to me."

"Always, malen'kaya Volchitsa."

And with that he turned and ran back to find his sister while I kept running away.

I jolt awake, sitting up and gasping for air, eyes wide. It was just a nightmare... no, not a nightmare, a memory. That day was the last I saw of them. The last I saw of him. I didn't even get to say a real goodbye. Now he's gone.

My panting and shaking awakens Wanda, she sits up slowly before taking my hands in hers. She smiles sadly at me as tears stream down my face.

"Este în regulă draga mea, ești bine, totul este în regulă," she comforts me.

(It's okay my dear, you're okay, everything's fine)

"Níl sé, níl gach rud i gceart. Tá achan rud ag titim as a chéile arís. Ní thig liom thú a fhágáil. Fuair duine againn bás an uair deirneach," I sob to her.

(It's not, everything's not okay. Everything's falling apart again. I can't leave you. One of us died last time)

"Nu, nu este. Ultima data a fost diferită. De data aceasta vom rămâne în legătură. Mi voi fi niciodată mai mult decât un telefon depart."

(No, it's not. Last time was different. This time we will stay in touch. I will never be more than a phone call away)

Phone call. Phone call. My mind sobers as I realise what must've happened back home and I haven't even taken the time for a phone call.

"I- I have to go," I say, slipping out of my mother tongue and into English, stepping out of bed and grabbing my phone.

"Where are you-" I cut Wanda off.

"I need to make a phone call."

"Fianna, it's late."

"I have to."

With that I leave the room, I don't know where to go and so I just kinda linger in the hallway, pacing back and forth. I unlock my phone and go to my contacts, I scroll until I hit it, 'Eo' it's my contact for Eoghan. It's not what I would want my father figure's number as, but I try to keep it professional so...

I hit call and wait as the phone rings. Once. Twice. And on the third he picks up. I let out a breath as he greets me.

"Hello? Fianna? Are you okay?" he asks me.

"Ye-yeah I am," I say before biting the drawstring of my hoodie, "That's a lie. I'm, I'm not okay Eoghan," I confess to him.

"Talk t' me. What's wrong?"

"I uh, I had a nightmare," I tell him, shoving my spare hand into the pocket of the hoodie.

"Okay, nightmare," he repeats and I can practically see him nodding in understanding, "Do you want to talk about it Fi, or do you just want someone to talk to?"

I shake my head, knowing he can't see it, "Talk to someone. I actually called you to, um, to apologise. I know that you probably got dragged into my mess and I wanna make sure that you and Orlaith and the rest of you are doing alright."

There's a slight hesitation before Eoghan speaks again, "What are you talking about?"

"I mean when the feds showed up... right after I busted out of the Raft," I say slowly, confused by his confusion.

"No one showed up here Mactíre," Eoghan assures me, slipping in my merc name. "I haven't a clue what you're on about. What do ye mean busted out?"

"Okay, look, when Wanda called me I was gonna fight a couple of her friends, yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Well basically it all went down in this airport runway. To be honest with ye there was like twelve of us all together and it looked more like a scrap between a few chavs in a Tesco car park than a fricken civil war between the Avengers."

"Okay," Eoghan laughs at that, which was my intention, because he won't be laughing in a second.

"Basically there was this thing called the Sokovia Accords, it basically bans the Avengers from fighting without their ma and da, a bunch of governments, saying they can. Mister America and his old bestie broke that rule and so they became criminals, I and some others helped and that made us all criminals."

"Heh, I'm sorry, what the fuck?" Eoghan asks in a slightly higher octave than usual, yeah, he's pissed at me.

"Yeah... and so we were sent to this superhero jail that was in the middle of the fuckin' ocean. After a couple o' days Stars and Stripes teamed up with some Emo Hello Kitty looking fella and the freakin' Black Widow to bust us out. We're staying in Wakanda right now."

"Okay... let me get this straight," Eoghan says, exasperatedly. "You, and some of America's little mascots, fought the other half of America's mascots. Then you were thrown into a jail cruise ship-"

"It wasn't quite that luxurious Eo, I had a shock collar on," I interrupt with a deadpan tone.

"You fucking what?! Let me continue, you were thrown into a submarine jail, with a shock collar on. Couple o' days later you get broken out of said submarine jail. And now you're staying in a third world country?" Eoghan questions, clearly regretting emotionally adopting me. I don't blame him either, I'm a real problem child.

"I- technically yes. But I'm not coming home is the main point here."

"Why? Why not? Fianna this place is your home, we're you family."

"You are," I agree, fiddling with the zipper of my hoodie nervously. "But if I show up back home then word will get out where I am. I don't want to endanger my family and their jobs. Trust me. Besides, I have a place to stay."

"Where? Where the hell are you staying that would be safer than here?"

"Listen, I hate it as much as you do... probably more. I'm going to New York to stay with... Stark," I sigh, stopping my fiddling.

"Stark? Why would you do that?" Eoghan asks incredulously.

"Because it'll keep us all safe. Me away from that floating ocean pokey and the feds away from you. Trust me, it's for the best."

"But Fianna, you hate him. What about what he did? Don't you remember the pain it caused you? The pain that you caused? Mactíre," he says dangerously.

"Eoghan," I say in a low voice, laced with anger, "Don't go there. I don't want to do this, but it's for the best, if it were up to me I'd be going home... or Madripoor."

"Jesus Christ," he whispers, "Right, well you'll stay in touch, that's for sure. And you'll call Orlaith in the morning, she's worried about you... Tommy too."

I perk up at that, "Tommy? How is he? Is he okay? Have they done anything to him? I swear I'll kill them if they touched a hair on his head," I fire question after question.

"Tommy's fine, he just wants to know how you are, what you're doing etc. They haven't done anything to him, not that I know of at least. Look, I'll get Orlaith to call you in the morning, she'll have Tommy with her and you can talk to them both, okay? It's getting late."

I sigh and look to the ground, "Alright, I have to go back to sleep anyways."

"Oíche mhaith, m'iníon. Go mbeadh aisling aláinn agat."

(Goodnight, my daughter. Have sweet dreams.)

"Oíche mhaith daidí, go raibh míle maith agat."

(Goodnight dad, thanks a million.)

And with that I hang up. My eyes fog over with tears and I simply let them fall. I've been crying a lot more lately; I feel like a fricken crybaby. A lot of emotions have been stirring up and I hate it, I hate the weakness that's overcoming me. I can't let myself feel so deeply, especially negatively... not after last time.

I go back into the bedroom and get into bed. I hug myself and shrink into the hoodie as best I can. It used to be Eoghan's, this hoodie, he gave it to me when I first moved into St. Marie's. I barely had anything and he just gave me the hoodie, it's definitely not perfect, it has burns around the cuffs and the zipper always gets a bit stuck halfway up, but I wouldn't give it up for anything. It's like a safety blanket for me, it makes me think of him and feel safe. After a few minutes I eventually drift off to sleep.

° ∆ -------- ••• ------- ∆ ° ∆ -------- ••• ------- ∆°

I stayed in the bedroom most of the morning, on my phone messaging a tumblr mutual. Her URL is FriendlessGhost17, mine is Coilean07. We met last year, round abouts when a week into me living at St. Marie's. She lives in NYC and so it might be a good idea to talk to her in case we end up running into each other. We've facetimed and called many times but we've never actually met in person.

I say my goodbyes and sigh. Life just sucks a lot at the moment, but what can I say? That's what happens when you go down the road of off-the-books illegal experimentation, I guess.

I hear a knock on the door, "Come in," I say, not looking up from my scrolling.

"You gonna join the land of the livin' today?" I look up and see Sam, arms crossed, leaning in the doorway.

"Uh, yeah, I just- I was messaging a friend," I tell him.

"Nothing revealing though, right?" he raises an eyebrow.

"Of course not," I dismiss, "I'm not an amateur. I told her I was with my sister but have to leave her again. I don't always tell the truth, but I'm always honest. It's a fine line to walk but a good loophole to have."

Sam ventures further into the room, "So you're good at what you do, that's reassuring... I think. Look I know this isn't gonna be fun for you, staying with Stark, but sometimes that's just how it is, that's how life is."

"Not gonna be fun? You really don't know me, do you?" I laugh humourlessly.

"No, no I don't," Sam admits, shaking his head and sitting on the edge of the bed next to me.

"Well, essentially Stark has hurt everyone I love and, I can hold a grudge like nobody's business. It's not just gonna be 'not fun' it's gonna feel like a betrayal. But I don't wanna focus on that, I wanna enjoy my time before I go to that stuck-up, narcissistic ass."

Sam smiles for a second, "You know, Steve would be disappointed if he heard that kinda language out of you."

I raise an eyebrow, "He was in the army and from the 40s, I'm sure he has no room to talk. I bet people make assumptions and he just doesn't dispute them. I bet his birthday isn't even the fourth of July, someone assumed it was and now he lives in fear of anyone finding his birth certificate."

Sam laughed out loud at that and I had to join him, I've been on tumblr long enough to have to many thoughts about America's favourite boy scout. Sam and I talk for a while, about Steve, about Wanda, I even get some stories about his old days in the army. He tells me about the missions he flew and I learn more about his wings. Then he tells me how he met Steve and Natasha.

"So he, he lapped you how many times?" I ask incredulously.

"Thirteen. He lapped me thirteen times! And he kept saying 'on your left' to like warn me he was lapping me, like it felt like he was doing it on purpose," Sam scowls.

"He probably was, I mean I read about him a bit in school and apparently he was always a little shit, he just got away with it since he was a stick and had like every illness to ever exist in the 30s," I tell him.

"Maybe," Sam says, "But yeah, that's how we met. And then a few days later he shows up at my house with Natasha and tells me 'everyone we know is tryna kill us' like no hellos, no 'how are you's, just straight to the point."

"And you just let them in?" I cock an eyebrow.

"Well yeah, Captain America shows up at your door, what are you not gonna let him in?"

"It would make a pretty funny story don't you think? 'Captain America and Black Widow showed up at my house and I turned them down.' I think that'd be hilarious. But naw, I'd let them in surely."

Then there's a vibration from my phone. I look at the screen as it lights up and see that Orlaith sent me a snap.

I look back up to continue the conversation with Sam but he shakes his head.

"You can talk to your friends, don't worry. I just talked your ear off for the last hour or so, you can get back to your friend now," he tells me.

I smile at him softly, "Thanks Sam. And this talk was good, by the way, you didn't talk my ear off. You distracted me and I appreciate it."

He gets off the bed and turns to me, "That used to be my job you know, helping other Vets with PTSD. I thought you'd prefer to be distracted than reminded of what's happening and so I just catered to that rather than pushing you."

"Really Sam, thank you. But now I gotta have a difficult conversation about what's happening so... I guess I can't put it off any longer," I sigh.

"Good luck, Fianna, you can do this," Sam tells me before leaving and closing the door.

I open the message from Orlaith.

I find Orlaith's number in my contact list and hit call.

It only takes one ring and she picks up, "Hiiii, how did it go?"

"It went good Orlaith," I tell her, a smile already on my face from hearing her voice. "And I got to see Wands again which has done me wonders, really."

"That's great to hear, oh and you're on speaker," Orlaith tells me.

"Hey Fi," I hear Tommy's voice and I nearly start crying.

"Mo dearthair bheag Tommy, ta sé ar dóigh le do guth a cloisteáil arís. Cad é mar atá tú, coiléan bheag?" I ask, slipping into my first language after hearing my baby brother's voice for the first time in a couple weeks.

(My little brother Tommy, how amazing it is to hear your voice again. How are you, little pup?"

"Táim I gceart, Mactíre," he mocks, "Agus an miste leat gan ag cuir sin orm? Ní páiste mé níos mó!"

(I'm fine, Mactíre. And do you mind not calling me that? I'm not a kid anymore!)

"Ach is páiste thú dom. Bheul, ar a laghad is dearthair bheag s'agam thú. Má chuireann sé isteach ort an méid sin, stadfaidh mé."

(But you're a kid to me. Well, you're my little brother at least. If it annoys you that much I'll stop.)

"Hey! Is grá liom go bhfuil sibh in ann labhairt le chéile ach tá mise anseo fostaaa!" Orlaith butts in.

(Hey! I love that you're able to talk but I'm here toooo!)

"Ceart go leor, sionnach," Tommy says, "Cad é ar mhaith leat a labhairt faoi?"

(Fine, Fox. What would you like to talk about?)

"First of all, that nickname is so old, like first year old. And that was like four years ago. Anyway, let's start with where your big sis is? Huh, how about that?" Orlaith begins, slipping back into English.

"Well... I may or may not be in the palace of Wakanda," I reveal. I can trust them, they won't tell.

"You're where?" Tommy questions.

"Wakanda."

"Get de fuck!" he exclaims.

"I'm not messing Tom. And I'm not staying here much longer either."

"You're coming back home again?" Orlaith asks.

"Not- not exactly, Orls," I pinch the bridge of my nose, trying to figure out a way to tell them, to tell Tommy that I'm not coming home. "I'm going to New York, I'm going to New York, a thaisce, and I have to stay with Stark."

(Love {term of endearment})

"With- With Stark as in Tony Stark?" Orlaith asks.

"As in the one who you despise with a burning passion?" Tommy adds on.

"Yeah, that's, that would be him," I sigh.

"How are you- How will he survive that?" Tommy asks.

"Why do you have to go to that cunt?" Orlaith questions at the same time.

"Orlaith!" I hear Eoghan scolding her in the background, they must be at St. Marie's.

"Sorry Eoghan, sorry Tommy," Orlaith apologises.

"Hey Eoghan," I say into the phone.

"Hey Fia, I'm just making sure these two got through de ye. I still think ye should be here, but never mind me, keep yer chin up, I'll talk de ye later," he tells me, his parental feelings slipping through the professional mask he tries to wear.

"Of course Eo, we'll talk later," I reassure.

"I have de leave now, Liam's looking another pint," he tells me.

"Bye Eoghannnn," I sing.

"Goodbye Fianna."

"Well, back to our conversation," Tommy says, "Why are you going de Stark of all people?"

"Essentially I might have accidentally made myself an international criminal when helping Wands," I say, my voice raising octaves as I speak.

"Jesus, Mary, Joseph and the wee donkey they rode in on. How did ye manage that Fianna?" Tommy asks incredulously.

"Tomás Ronan McConnell!" I reprimand. "What have I tol' you about blasphemy?"

"Not to," he grumbles.

"Exactly, so would you like to rephrase that?" I raise an eyebrow and I know he can feel it through the phone.

"How did you manage de be a criminal helping your sister?" he rephrases the question.

I smile at Tommy calling Wanda my sister, he might never have met her but he still considers her my sister, and even his in a way.

"Look, it was just a job gone wrong. It's not even... it's not my choice, I have de go t' Stark because he can protect me from the Feds. But... I won't be with him for long," I lie. I don't want to lie, but I need to protect them, if they think I'm coming back then they won't take it so hard.

"Right, well ye better get back soon okay? I miss my bitch of a big sister!" Tommy tells me and tears prick my eyes.

"Yeah, yeah I'll be back soon," I nod, tears falling as I keep my voice steady, "And when I get back we're spending the whole day together, I don't care what Erin and Shéa have to say about it."

"All three of us," Orlaith adds, "And we're gonna have the best time, right? We'll go to The Amusements and we'll go de the cinema and we'll go to Foyleside and just spend the whole day together.

"We will," the tears falling with ease but I keep my voice level, "God, I can't wait to see you two again. When I get back yous'll be sick of me, clinging de yous like a wane."

There's a beat of silence as we think about that day... the day that won't come for a long time. Not that they know that. It still hurts though; I miss my brother and my best friend. But no more tears, I wipe them away and clear my throat.

"We have to go," Orlaith says guiltily. "Mam is looking me back in ten minutes and Tommy needs to get back before they realise how long he's been gone."

"Okay, okay," I inhale sharply "Slán Tommy, slán Orlaith. Is grá liom sibh béirt le mo chroí iomlán. Feicfidh mé sibh gan mhoill, yeah?"

"Slán Fianna, is grá liom thú. Feicfidh mé thú níos moille," Orlaith says.

"Slán Fianna, chonaic mé thú níos moille. Is grá liom thú," Tommy says and I laugh a little.

"Bye," I say and I hang up.

I hear a knock at the door and wipe my tears quickly, erasing any evidence of my crying. I tell them to come in and it's Bucky. We haven't really spoken much, between not knowing each other and wanting to stay close to the ones we're leaving we haven't had the time to bond, I guess.

"Hey," he says timidly, staying in the doorway.

"Hey," I reply, just as timid.

"The others are discussing their plans, I think everyone's moving out tomorrow," he informs me.

"Okay, thanks for letting me know," I say, putting my phone in my hoodie pocket before standing and making my way to leave the room.

#peter parker x oc #peter parker x reader #spiderman x oc #spiderman x reader #peter parker #fianna macbhfloscaidh #the lone wolf #the lupine saga #nyx writes #jynx writes #pyre writes

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icannotweave · 4 years

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250 followers!!!

whaaaaatttttttt?!?!?!?

🥳💕🥳💕🥳

ok. Huge Deal cause i never thought i’d ever have more than like....half a hundred followers??? i am SO Flattered. Delighted. i shall endeavor to Feed my followers with incoherent, sporadic content with no rhyme or reason between my interests!!! keep enjoying my hyperfixations as much as i do!!!

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#ooooooooh boy oh boy this is long as fuck but i am so happy!!!#Raye posts #Raye musings #followers

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romancatholicreflections · 6 years

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10th June >> Sunday Homilies and Reflections for Roman Catholics on the Tenth Sunday in Ordinary Time, year B Tenth Sunday in Ordinary time Gospel reading: Mark 3:20-35 vs.20 Jesus went home again, and once more such a crowd collected that they could not even have a meal. vs.21 When his relatives heard of this, they set out to take charge of him, convinced he was out of his mind. vs.22 The scribes who had come down from Jerusalem were saying, “Beelzebul is in him” and, “It is through the prince of devils that he casts devils out. vs.23 So he called them to him and spoke to them in parables, “How can Satan cast out Satan?” vs.24 If a kingdom is divided against itself, that kingdom cannot last. vs.25 And if a household is divided against itself, that household can never stand. vs.26 Now if Satan has rebelled against himself and is divided, he cannot stand either – it is the end of him. vs.27 But no one can make his way into a strong man’s house and burgle his property unless he has tied up the strong man first. Only then can he burgle his house. vs.28 I tell you solemnly, all men’s sins will be forgiven, and all their blasphemies; vs.29 but let anyone blaspheme against the Holy Spirit and he will never have forgiveness; he is guilty of an eternal sin.” vs.30 This was because they were saying, “An unclean spirit is in him.” vs.31 His mother and brothers now arrived and, standing outside, sent in a message asking for him. vs.32 A crowd was sitting round him at the time the message was passed to him, “Your mother and brothers and sisters are outside asking for you.” vs.33 He replied, “Who are my mother and my brothers?” vs.34 And looking round at those sitting in a circle about him, he said, “Here are my mother and my brothers. vs.35 Anyone who does the will of God, that person is my brother and sister and mother.” ******************************************************************* This week we have three commentators available from whom you may wish to choose . Two are in English and one in Irish. Michel DeVerteuil : A Trinidadian Holy Ghost Father, late director of the Centre of Biblical renewal . Donal Neary SJ: Editor of The Sacred Heart Messenger and National Director of The Apostlship of Prayer. Pádraig Ó Rúairí, cp, Sliabh Argus, Átha Cliath. **************************************** Michel DeVerteuil Lectio Divina with the Sunday Gospels www.columba.ie General Comments We can divide this passage into three sections: Verses 20 and 21: the attitude of Jesus’ relatives. They are typical of people who because of their status think they take charge of Jesus but in fact do not understand him at all. Verses 22 to 30: confrontation between Jesus and the Scribes. In verse 22 the Scribes are just as presumptuous and just as wrong-headed as the relatives. In verses 23 to 25 Jesus responds to the Scribes with the kind of common-sense that comes from simple and single-minded people. In verses 26 and 27 we read a dramatic parable, evoking the harsh struggle between good and evil and how goodness must conquer evil at its very roots. Verses 28 to 30 are different. Do not approach them rationally, but on the feeling level. Experience the discouragement of Jesus as he confronts people who use religious language to excuse evil Verses 31 to 35: a second story of Jesus and his relatives. A dramatic meeting between Jesus and his relatives; they are totally out of his sphere and he has understood this and accepted it. Prayer Reflection Lord, we thank you for the great followers of Jesus we have known: Mother Teresa and Archbishop Romero; people we have known personally in our own countries, who have taken great risks and found themselves surrounded by the needy while wise and powerful people were convinced that they were out of their minds and wanted to take charge of them. This always happens when Jesus comes into the world. Lord, we pray for your church, that we may always be humble. Do not let us become like the relatives of Jesus, presuming that because we are practicing catholics we know what is your mind, or like the Scribes coming down from Jerusalem, thinking that knowledge of our faith enables us to judge who is doing the work of the devil. Lord, one of the terrible sins in our day is that when people work for justice we label them communists and atheists; causes close to your heart such as putting the poor first terrify us. What hope is there for us then? When people do wrong knowing it is wrong they can always hear your word and turn back to you. But when we enlist you in the service of false values and look on the work of your Holy Spirit as evil, how can we hear your call to repentance and ask your forgiveness? Lord, as members of your church we do many things to help those in need. But through the Pope and the bishops you call us to go further and work for a new kind of society “where the poor Lazarus can sit down at the same table with the rich.” Remind us that no one can make his way into the strong man’s house and burgle his property unless he has tied up the strong man first, and that therefore we must let your powerful word enter into the hearts of us all to subdue the demons of self-centredness and greed Which are at the root of the world’s problems Lord, we pray for parents. Many do not walk with their children on their spiritual journeys, or enter into their deepest aspirations so that a day comes when they have to stand outside and send messages asking for them, and then realize with great sadness that these children of theirs have new brothers and sisters and mothers in those who share their sacred values. Lord, we thank you for those who have stepped out of their cultures, their age-groups, or their social class in the service of others. There will be times when they hear within themselves the call of mother and brothers outside asking for them. May they at such moments look around like Jesus at the many people sitting in a circle around them, and recognize that they have found mothers and brothers and sisters in those who do your will. ******************************************************** Donal Neary SJ Gospel Reflections www.messenger.ie/bookshop/ Who is the family of Jesus? Jesus seems here to disown his family. Does he dismiss Mary and his family? He knew that he was not going down well with the family, and maybe wanted some distance from them. It is interesting that they came for him, maybe to take him home. But he turns the family table. He expands his notion of the family. Coming from God his father he proclaims that all around him are family to him – these are his mother, brother and sister. He will later teach them to pray, not My Father, but Our Father. Cn TreasuresThis is one of the central teachings of Jesus, that we are all brothers and sisters, because of our Father in heaven. From this truth that Jesus felt so strongly came much of his preaching – to retreat each other as family at its best would. This follows on from the debate about good and bad religion of earlier weeks. The best of religion treats us all as brothers and sisters because of God. Our first and last belonging is that we belong to God – we come from God and go to God. There will often be conflict in Jesus’ family about him. His first family did not take easily to his new family – his disciples. Only at Pentecost around the mother of Jesus would both families unite. His words are words to us today – he looks around at us and sees us as his brothers and sisters. This will make a difference as to how we see each other. Think of different people and say within yourself, ‘you are my brother, you are my sister’. Make me, Lord, an instrument of peace and of joy among your people. ******************************************************** Pádraig Ó Rúairí, cp, Sliabh Argus, Átha Cliath. www.catholicireland.net Comharthaí de’n pheaca bunúsach inniú Ní chuirtear an olc amach as ár saol riamh. Ardaíonn an nathair a cheann gránna in áiteanna eile. Tá Satan beo agus go maith, ins na coimhlintí a bhíonn ag siúl ar ár saol, agus sna gangaí druga a rabhaíonn ár sráideanna le heroin, cóicín agus drugaí eile. Is minic a bhíonn cruthú ar na seanfhocail is sine in imeachtaí a fheicimíd ar an nuacht gach oíche. Bíonn na mílte samplaí de “Truailliú cumhachta” ann. Is féidir linn tuairim Shakespeare a thabhairt chun cuimhne freisin: “A t’olc a dhéanann daoine ina saol, fanann sé beo ina dhiaidh.” Is iontach dúinn mar a tharla i nGearmáin réimse Hitler agus na Nazis, nó i Rúis an réimse Stalinéiseach, nó iadsan a chuir chun cinn “Earraigh Arabacha” – an oiread sin daoine, réasúnta agus dea-spreagtha, , curtha i ngleic le polasaithe foréigneacha agus dúnmharfach. Mar a dúirt Edmund Burke uair amháin: “Chun go mbéadh an bhua ag an olc, is leor nach ndéanann daoine mhaithe aon rud.” Tá an iomarca duine sásta breathnú ar an mbealach eile, fad is atá eachtranna ag dul isteach sna campaí dídeanaithe nó a chuirtear iad ar ais chuig áiteanna scriosta. Chuir Yeats an tuiscint tragóideach seo in iúl: “Tá an taoide folaithe saor, agus i ngach áit Tá searmanas na neamhchiontachta báite; Idir an chuid is fearr, tá easpa iomlán creidimh, agus san chuid is measa Tá siad lán de dhéine paiseanta”. ********************************************************

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crobones · 7 years

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The Death

@mindofaddict Bless you!! Can I request Sweeney singing something sad and folk, and Shadow ~thinking~ about stuff Sweeney is going through/has gone through and doing something nice for him @_@

Uhhhhhhhhhh i wasn’t expecting requests but i’ll defo take it~!

Shadow watched as Laura was surrounded by Jesuses. Many, many Jesuses. When she’d shown up, Sweeney in toe, he’d been happy. For a second.

Shadow watched as Laura was surrounded by Jesuses. Many, many Jesuses. When she’d shown up, Sweeney in toe, he’d been happy. For a second. An instant, maybe. But the more he looked, the more he remembered what she’d done. How she died. Why she died.

And he walked away.

She had said her piece back in the motel, and it wasn’t good enough. And if it wasn’t good enough then, why would it be good enough now? She hadn’t been sorry for not only betraying their marriage, but also his trust.

He didn’t want to talk about it again. Or even think about it.

So he had walked away before Laura could even say a word. Wednesday had given him a nod. The words ‘Take as long as you need’ echoed in the back of his mind. And so he wandered the field - all the grass, flowers, and trees dead, but their corpses still standing. Like a field of bones.

He didn’t know how long he’d been walking around, but when he was tired of thinking about ‘it’ and trying not to think about ‘it’, he’d circled back to the group. The sun was much lower in the sky, but it wasn’t that late just yet. Media and Technology Boy had long since gone, tails tucked between their legs in the most graceful and modern of ways.

And so he stood off to the side, now, Laura getting all the attention for the moment, when words in some weird language he didn’t know, melodic in tone (if maybe off-key) sounded from nearby.

He turned and saw Mad Sweeney, sitting in the dead grass, smoking a rolled cigarette and flask in hand, looking out at the sheep.

“Chonaic mo dhóthain de Thíortha i gcéin,” Sweeney muttered to himself, rough voice giving, at most, a little effort to sing. “Ór agus airgead, saibhreas an tsaoil. Éiríonn an croí ‘nam le breacadh gach lae. ‘S mé druidim le dúthaigh mo mhuintir.” He sounded morose, but the words didn’t match the tone. They were faster and more upbeat.

Shadow kept his distance, but the more he watched Sweeney, he began to notice things. One finger slightly offset as he held his cigarette aloft. Bruises here and there and tears in his clothes. Not to mention he was more hunched in on himself than usual. Had Shadow not known his true height, he’d’ve thought that Sweeney was small.

“Ar fhágaint an tsaoil seo, sé ghuidhim ar an Bran. Gur leosan a shinfear i gcill mé.” The words were muffled with smoke that rose to the golden sky.

“That one didn’t rhyme,” Shadow interrupted. Sweeney just tapped ash from his cigarette.

“A lot of ‘em don’t rhyme,” Sweeney corrected. No insult. Weird.

“I don’t know why, but that one sounded,” he paused, thinking of an appropriate word. “Off. Different.” How imaginative. Well done.

“Creative differences,” he said. Just like that. Okay, something was definitely off.

None of this would have typically made Shadow concerned, having remembered the events of their first meeting and originally feeling a strong distaste for the man, except that Sweeney hadn’t had nearly as many injuries then as he does now. Instead of angry, he looked sad. Shadow wondered how he’d come to look so broken. He might not be particularly fond of the man, but for some reason he still felt a pang of empathy.

Tired of silence, he broke it. “You know, a part of me almost wants to thank you,” Shadow said.

That finally got Sweeney to look at him. “An’ why the ever lovin’ fuck would ye do that?” There. There was anger. But it wasn’t directed at Shadow. No, the confusion was directed at him, but the anger lay somewhere else.

Shadow looked to Laura again. “When we fought - and I mean when we really got into it - I didn’t have time to think. Forgot to grieve.”

“Ay, well looks like ye won’t have te be grievin’ much longer,” Sweeney corrected, nodding over to Native American and Black Jesus, who were examining Laura’s open sutures near the clavicle.

Shadow ignored the implication. Another thing he didn’t want to dwell on. Instead, he walked over and sat next to Sweeney, surprised to see some had rabbits had begun to inspect Sweeney’s boots. More surprised that Sweeney let them, and that they didn’t run as he approached.

“And why do you fight?” Shadow asked.

“Same reason as you, I suppose.” He offered Shadow his flask.

“To not think? About what?” He took the flask and took a swig.

“An Bás.”

#madmoon #shadow moon #mad sweeney #this may not be what you were looking for #and it's not him really doing 'something nice' but #for you #i might use this in the fic i've been wanting to write #the song is called Trasna na dTonnta #it's apparently taught to primary school children but hey #i tried to make it sad #given the context #mindofaddict

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presageoffear · 3 years

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bímse buan ar buairt gach ló || aoide || trial #1 end + execution || ch2 start

"Thanks." Aoíde mutters softly to Flint, lighting the offered cig.

Taking a single draw from it, before stepping back away slightly. Flint needs more space, or she needs more space. Either or, she's distracted from the scenery at hand, and what is left of her frayed nerves fray a little more. Wouldn't a musician be a non-smoker?

Yuki addresses her for a moment, and Aoíde blinks for a couple of minutes. Seems she missed that whole incident, and she opens her mouth, when something else catches her eyes and ears, and Occam gets a look. Her gaze flickers over to the other red-headed (step)child, Aoíde huffs out a bit, before lifting her left foot to her knee, where she quietly puts out the cigarette on her shoes sole without any second thoughts about it.

"... Tá brón... orm." I'm sorry, in an additional word and multiple accents, although hey - thanks, translation setup.. Aoíde addresses Morgan directly with an actual attempt at eye contact. That little bit of importance done, she glances down at what's left, before tucking it away after making sure there's not too much ash on the cig. The sludge though - Aoide squashes herself more in towards the center of the room, regardless of who is standing there. Noooo want to be by the walls, thanks.

Aoíde watches the sludge come eat Souko - quite literally, in a sense. She then follows its' climb up the wall with the fascination of someone driving past a horrific car accident and can't help but to drive reaaaaaaaalllll slow so as to rubberneck. When the light flickers on, Aoíde flinches when she recognizes the hair salon chair, followed by the shadowy hands.

The same as the nothing and everything, and Aoíde leans in, confused, until the voices trickle through, and like fire, she takes a swift step back, hands coming up to her ears. When the hands start digging in, and she can't help but watch in horrified fascination, at least until the screams start, at which point Aoíde recklessly whirls around, facing away from the view, breathing rapidly fluttering from even to wheezing in a matter of moments.

It is only when she no longer hears the screaming that her hands come down from her ears, her gaze still focused at nothing.

There are moments that the words don't reach... Aoíde's gaze goes up to the sludge and the glass, listening to no one, looking at no one in particular - barely catching Alexandra's warning about the trial room ceasing to exist. There's enough of a pause, and a considering look on her face, that really makes it seem like if she's thinking about, you know, staying in the trial room. However, she eventually ends up squashing in with the rest of the group in the elevator, probably to someone's disappointment. When there's that bit of stomach lurch from the elevator going down, Aoíde blinks.

"... Mmm. Hell."

How probably accurate of you, Ní Mhaolchatha.

As *usual?* Aoíde stares at Alexandra, her mouth opening and closing for a couple of moments, but by the time her smart-ass brain has made it to her not quite as fast mouth, the woman's wandered off, and left them off to, well, their own devices. What devices? What usual? What *normal?*

Aoíde wanders off to the rooms. She wants a nap - or a good cry.

Definitely a cry.

#Ic #Aoide #submission

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banglasmart · 4 years

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naturessoleil-blog · 8 years

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To the One I Love //Ghost Sprite\\ //Ghostly Letters Redux\\

Left in the hollow of their favorite tree, a letter on yellowed paper is nestled, hidden from view from anyone except the one who knows what to look for.

@the-witch-ghost

My Sweetest Zero,

It is nearly that time of the year in which love blooms as wildly and freely as the Spring does. And perhaps it is because winter is slowly loosening it’s grip on the Earth. But for the first time in so so long I have felt the need to share that love with something other than the forest and all that reside within.

But this year.. This year has been so very different. How could I ever think that one night among the Mundus would gift me with someone as special as you. Especially when at first you seemed to care so little for anything that grows from the ground. Least of all pumpkins. I am so very glad that I was able to sway your way of thinking.

I must admit that I was repelled by you in those first few moments of our meeting. But I am, again, so very glad that my own way of thinking was changed. That evening with you, despite the terrible storm that soon followed, was one of the most enjoyable I had had in such a long time. And it brought us even closer together by giving us Alfred.

But this is not a letter meant for beginnings, even though ours was so unorthodox and out of the norm. But that is us. We are both part of this world and not. Which would mean that the rules of this world, this time, both apply and do not apply to us. We are separate entities brought together by fate or the cosmos. In fact, it reminds me of the stories you tell me. Of great Greek heroes and heroines. I only hope that our end is not like theirs. I could not bear being without you at this point. You have become so ingrained into my being, like your name and your presence has been etched so deeply into my being.

There are not many things that can claim my attention and my emotion so wholly as you. I had thought that before you my life was as it should be. Taking care of the forest and helping the Prince in whatever way he may need, those were what I needed, all that I needed. And then you came along and you.. Well you changed all of that when I wasn’t even aware that was something that I wanted. With you I have braved going into town alone, I have interacted with the Mundus despite my reservations about them, I have opened myself up in ways that I did not think possible.

And I only have you to thank for that. For knowing you I have been made better, more whole. And I only hope that I have done the same for you, my night sky.

My one hope is that I have been able to bring some light to that darkness that had so consumed you. The one that you had told me you thought consumed you. Because I do not see it in you, my sweet Zero. I have never seen that darkness in you. The flame of hope burns bright within you and all that meet you can see that. You are so much more than what you think, so much more than just a ghost, or just a girl.

You are my Zero. My night sky. My everything. Just as I am yours. And will be yours for as long you will have me. And I do hope that is for as long as the sun continues to rise and fall. As long as flowers continue to bloom in Spring and wilt in Winter.

After all I feel as if this was fated to happen. Things do not happen for no reason. Or at least that was what my mother told me when I was young. The things that happened to us happened so that we would be able to meet now and become this. Whatever this is.

Regardless, sweet Zero, I love you. More than can be put into words or even actions. But that is fitting for us, is it not? For we are not something that came be easily explained. At least not with any words these Mundus have been able to come up with.

Tha gaol agam ort barrachd is barrachd gach latha a tha a 'cur seachad maille ribh. Agus iadsan anns a bheil e comasach dhuibh a bhith còmhla rium Tha an Loneliest làithean a bha agam riamh. Tha gaol agam ort chun na gealaich agus air ais, mo milis Zero.***

Yours, for an eternity,

Soleil

***translation:

I love you more and more every day that is spent with you. And those in which you are unable to be with me are the loneliest days I have ever had. I love you to the moon and back, my sweet Zero.

#x;ghost sprite #x;ghostly letters redux #x;to the one i love #bdrptasks #bdrptask #otp: you are my moon #otp: my night sky #x;zero #x;sweet zero #this is all over the place #which is how soleil feels about zero all the time when she thinks about her

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