#and what would this say for childless people? or people who cannot bear children? if they have breasts are they 'useless bodies'

[uncanny-tranny]

The whole "breasts shouldn't be politicized because the primary purpose of breasts is to feed babies!" can be a fine jumping-off point, but I really wish people thought deeper than that when we talk about the ways in which bodies are politicized and restricted.

Like, why's it that when we talk about breasts, they must have some Higher Purpose? It's true that breasts aren't inherently sexual, but they aren't valuable solely because they can potentially feed a baby. A human body doesn't have to serve a Higher Purpose in order for it to not be legislated against or policed, and I just wish people would remember it isn't always about babies, about other people, about anything else other than the people who have that body.

[mariacallous]

A woman without biologicalchildren is running for high political office, and so naturally that quality will at some point be used against her. Kamala Harris has, in the short period since she emerged as the Democratic candidate for US president, been scrutinised over her lack of children. The conservative lawyer Will Chamberlain posted on X that Harris “shouldn’t be president” – apparently, she doesn’t have ��skin in the game”. The Republican vice-presidential candidate, JD Vance, called Harris and other Democrats “a bunch of childless cat ladies miserable at their own lives”.

It’s a particularly virulent tendency in the US, with a rightwing movement that is fixated on women’s reproduction. But who can forget (and if you have, I am happy to remind you of a low point that still sticks in my craw) Andrea Leadsom, during the 2016 Conservative party leadership election, saying that Theresa May might have nieces and nephews, but “I have children who are going to have children … who will be a part of what happens next”. “Genuinely,” she added, as if the message were not clear enough, “I feel that being a mum means you have a real stake in the future of our country, a tangible stake.”

It’s an argument about political capability that dresses up a visceral revulsion at the idea that a woman who does not have a child should be vested with any sort of credibility or status. In other comments, Vance said that “so many of the leaders of the left, and I hate to be so personal about this, but they’re people without kids trying to brainwash the minds of our children, that really disorients me and disturbs me”. He appears so fixated on this that it is almost comical: a man whose obsession with childless women verges on a complex.

But his “disorientation and disturbance” is a political tendency that persists and endures. It constantly asks the question of women who don’t have children, in subtle and explicit ways, especially the higher they rise in the professional sphere: “What’s up with that? What’s the deal?” The public sphere becomes a space for answering that question. Women perform a sort of group plea to be left the hell alone, in their painstaking examinations of how they arrived at the decision not to have kids, or why they in fact celebrate not having kids, or deliberations on ambivalence about having kids.

Behind all this lies some classic old-school inability to conceive of women outside mothering. But one reason this traditionalism persists in ostensibly modern and progressive places is that women withdrawing from mothering in capitalist societies – with their poorly resourced public amenities and parental support – forces questions about our inequitable, unacknowledged economic arrangements. A woman who does not bear children is a woman who will never stay home and provide unremunerated care. She is less likely to be held in the domestic zone and extend her caregiving to elderly relatives or the children of others. She cannot be a resource that undergirds a male partner’s career, frailties, time limitations and social demands.

A mother is an option, a floating worker, the joker in the pack. Not mothering creates a hole for that “free” service, which societies increasingly arranged around nuclear families and poorly subsidised rights depend on. The lack of parental leave, childcare and elderly care would become profoundly visible – “disorienting and disturbing” – if that service were removed.

“Motherhood,” writes the author Helen Charman in her new book Mother State, “is a political state. Nurture, care, the creation of human life – all immediate associations with mothering – have more to do with power, status and the distribution of resources … than we like to admit. For raising children is the foundational work of society, and, from gestation onward, it is unequally shared.”

Motherhood, in other words, becomes an economic input, a public good, something that is talked about as if the women themselves were not in the room. Data on declining birthrates draws comment from Elon Musk (“extremely concerning!!”) . Not having children is reduced to entirely personal motivations – selfishness, beguilement with the false promise of freedom, lack of values and foresight, irresponsibility – rather than external conditions: of the need for affordable childcare, support networks, flexible working arrangements and the risk of financial oblivion that motherhood frequently brings, therefore creating bondage to partners. To put it mildly, these are material considerations to be taken into account upon entering a state from which there is no return. Assuming motherhood happens without such context, Charman tells me, is a “useful fantasy”.

It is a binary public discourse, obscuring the often thin veil between biological and social actualisation. Women who don’t have children do not exist in a state of blissful detachment from their bodies and their relationship with maternity: a number have had pregnancies, miscarriages, abortions and periods. A number have entered liminal stages of motherhood that don’t conform to the single definition from which they are excluded. A number extend mothering to various children in their lives. Some, like Harris herself, have stepchildren (who don’t count, just as May’s nieces and nephews didn’t). A number have become mothers, just not in a way that initiates them into a blissful club. They experience regret, depression and navigate unsettlement that does not conform to the image of uncomplicated validation of your purpose in life.

But the privilege of those truths cannot be bestowed on creatures whose rejection of the maternal bond has become a rejection of a wider unspoken, colossally unfair contract. Women with children are handed social acceptance for their vital investment in “the future”, in exchange for unrewarded, unsupported labour that props up and stabilises the economic and social status quo. All while still suffering sneeriness about the value of their work in comparison with the serious graft of the men who win the bread.

On top of that, women have to navigate all that motherhood – or not – entails, all the deeply personal, bewildering, isolating and unacknowledged realities of both, while being subject to relentless suffocating, infantilising and violating public theories and notions that trespass on their private spaces. With that comes a sense of self-doubt and shame in making the wrong decision, or not being as content with those decisions as they are expected to be. It is a constant, prodding vivisection. That, more than anything clinical observers feel, is the truly disorienting and disturbing experience.

[fr-martin-gospel-reflections]

23rd November - ‘He is God not of the dead but of the living’ Reflection on the readings for Saturday, Thirty Third Week in Ordinary Time (Luke 20:27-40)

Saturday, Thirty Third Week in Ordinary Time

The group who engage in conversation with Jesus in our gospel reading, the Sadducees, did not believe in resurrection from the dead, life beyond this earthly life. They were aware that Jesus had a different view. To ridicule Jesus’ proclamation of life beyond death, they create a scenario based on the Jewish law which required a man to marry his brother’s wife if she became a widow before bearing children, so that he could raise up children for his brother. The Sadducees ask, ‘If there were seven brothers and each of them married the widow after a brother died childless, whose wife would she be in the next life?’ In reply Jesus says that life beyond death is not just a continuation of this life. It has a totally different quality because it is eternal. In the next life we are not so much children of this world, all of whom die sooner or later, but children of the resurrection who will never die again, as we come to share in God’s own life. Jesus then goes on to say that God’s relationship with us endues beyond this earthly life. As Jesus says, ‘to God all people are alive’. The relationship that God seeks to establish with us in this life through his Son transcends death. Our limited minds cannot grasp the nature of this eternal life fully. As Saint Paul says, ‘eye has not seen, nor ear heard, nor the human heart conceived, what God has prepared for those who love him’. What we can be sure of, according to Jesus, is that God’s love which brought us into being will bring us through death into a new and fuller life. There is enough there to keep us hopeful, rather than fearful, in the face of death.

[fire-lady-ilah]

More good dad! Ozai AU? Even if you didn’t ask for it, you’re getting it and I’m picking up right where I left off. This is my reminder that, while Ozai is a good and non-abusive dad and husband in this, he is still very much an imperialist and a cruel person in general.

Parts [1] and [2] if you’d like. This is part 3. Here’s part [4]

The siblings venture into the capital, although they make it known that no one should inform their parents that they are nearby. The moment they step off the ship, Captain Jee sends a letter to the Fire Lady. He was loyal to the Prince and Princess above all, but he did not feel like being executed or exiled that day when Lady Ursa inevitably finds out.

In a large house just outside Caldera City, Lord Ukano lives with his wife, Michi, his daughter and heir, Mai, and his newborn son Tom-Tom. The Dragon Emperor and the Blue Spirit sneak into the bedroom of the heiress and steal her away.

In that I mean, Mai leaps at the opportunity to escape her home with her best friends, who she’s seen wearing the same theatre masks dozens of times, and follows willingly. It takes an hour longer than the siblings had expected, if only because Mai has far more knives than they had truly expected and they get caught up in the palace kitchens stealing Azula’s favourite mochi and some bags of fire flakes.

Then they are caught by Fire Lady Ursa, who is gathering a late night cup of cocoa after a nice night with her husband, not that her children need to know that part. Her children, who are wearing her theatre masks that had very recently gone missing from her collection, stare at her innocently. Her daughter carries two entire boxes she knows are full of mochi. Her son carries the fire flake bag they use for festivals. Her one day daughter-in-law is making a cup of cocoa and the Fire Lady calmly requests one for herself from the girl.

That night, the fire Prince and Princess sleep in their own rooms, with Lady Mai in one of the many available. In the morning, they take breakfast with the Fire Lord and Lady, discussing trivial matters of politics and domestic affairs.

Mai leaves on the request of the Fire Lord, bringing everything they took from her home and the palace (along with what Ursa and Ozai insisted they take) to the ship with the help of some soldiers.

Azula and Zuko sit with their parents. Ursa gives them each two potent bottles of poison. Ozai’s voice has a worry that only his family knows how to detect through the facade of boredom as he inquires how their firebending and blades practice has been, as to the state of their weaponry. They try to soothe their parents worries with assurances: their practice has been going well in both bending and blades, Azula has achieved perfection in lightningbending and Zuko has achieved lightning, their blades are sharp and well maintained, they weren’t harmed when the temple blew up—

It slips through Zuko’s lips. He was never the actor like his mother and sister. For their part, his parents do not react overly beyond a flickering of the flame and a long sip of tea.

“Your mission has changed.”

Ozai is smart. Everything he does is to serve his goals the best they can. In canon, the premier of those goals is to gain more power for himself. In this world, that goal is to secure the ideal outcome for his family. (Of course, his second goal is as much power as possible. But it is only considered after his first goal).

Allying themselves with the Avatar, at least in appearances, will secure the best outcome for his children. And he has no doubt that his brother (so weak after the death of his son. And yet, Ozai cannot find it within him to scorn him overly. He knows that were he to be left childless, he would break. It is merely that Ozai would break in an explosion, whereas Iroh’s flame fizzled into embers.) would eagerly help his children betray him. Even if it was just in appearances.

His children are loyal and dutiful. They protest, but only out of a desire to maintain that loyalty. He wishes the Avatar had remained hidden, at least until they were both adults. They are prodigal, yes, but they are just siblings.

“You have our permission to reveal your mother’s ancestry. Use it wisely.”

The children know their lineage for at least five generations on each side. That, of course, is in addition to their knowledge of every Fire Lord that has reigned since the unification of the Fire Nation. They are well aware that their Grandmother Rina (who feeds them chocolate and tells them stories whenever she visits) ‘s father was Avatar Roku. Just as they knew of the friendship between Fire Lord Sozin and Avatar Roku.

It is necessary for the people of their nation to hear pretty lies. It is not their responsibility to worry about the nuance and complexity of life. It is one of their responsibilities as Angi’s heirs in the mortal world. To worry of such things is a burden they should not have to bear. It is necessary for the people to believe the Avatar hated the Fire Lord.

The siblings don’t know everything, of course. They are just children after all. But they understand the nuance, the conflicting beliefs. They were told the truth (and carefully kept from necessary propaganda before then) when they were old enough to look critically at the situation. It was their duty to bring the Fire Nation’s good to the other nations, to liberate their populations, the siblings decided.

The Avatar is just a child, but he seemed able to connect with his past lives. And he had pointedly not hurt them, at least as Avatar Roku.

If nothing else, they have the Dragon Emperor and Blue Spirit on their side.

“Zhao has asked for permission to launch an invasion on the Northern Water Tribe. He is a fool, but he claims he has knowledge that will ensure his victory. Tomorrow, I will send him a letter approving his asinine idea. You will stop him— kill him, if you must— and use that act of perceived treason to ally yourselves with the Avatar.”

Ozai wants power, but he is no fool. The invasion is risky at best. He cannot find it within himself to care for the tens of thousands that would doubtlessly die in it, the Northern Water Tribe had the advantage in multiple ways. It would serve its purpose to get his children at the Avatar’s side.

The tone lightens after his orders and Ozai steps back from his role as Father Lord into just being a father. He teases his son on his interactions with his betrothed. He teases his daughter and asks if she would be visiting the circus soon, taking note of how she had learned to prevent a blush but not the squeak in her voice. They are not infallible, they are children.

As they see their children for the last time in the foreseeable future, the Fire Lord and Lady both think as to how much they will miss them. Ursa blinks back tears as she hugs them both, smiling as they react identically, burying their faces into her chest to hide them and breathing in the scent of fire lily perfume.

Ozai is not usually physically affectionate with his children. He had never received it from his father and was much more competent in other ways. That being said, no one commented on the kiss he pressed to the top of Zuko’s head (still shorter than him by quite a bit. Sometimes he acted so adult, but he was so clearly still a child) before repeating the action with Azula.

“I am so proud of you. Both of you.”

I’m just now realizing Blue Spirit is supposed to be after the whole Roku thing. Oh well.

For appearances’ sake, the siblings and Mai continue to chase the Avatar. Zhao attacks the Avatar while he trains under the Deserter. Princess Azula ensures the forest doesn’t burn while Prince Zuko uses all the bottled up anger at both Zhao himself and Azulon (really, what is with grown men trying to kill 11/12 year olds?) to yell at Zhao for acting so recklessly.

And if, perhaps, he manages to endear himself to others by knocking Zhao’s feet out from under him, all the better.

The Avatar and his friends escape and the siblings celebrate another success as Zhao nurses his bruised ass and ego.

(“Hey, did the Deserter look like that dude in Master Piandao’s painting in his main hall to you?”

“Admiral Jeong Jeong and Master Piandao were married, Zuko. Obviously that was him.”)

Zhao attempts to order their crew away from them, citing his rank as admiral as above prince and princess.

Azula’s sharp tongue reminds Admiral Zhao that Zuko is not only a prince, but the Crown Prince, and thus he is equal in rank to Zhao. As was their uncle a general, retired or not.

Behind the royalty of the ship stands Captain Jee, his eyes locked with Zhao’s. His eyes promise mutiny even if he were to somehow take them. His eyes swear loyalty to the Crown Prince, to his sister, above all else.

Zhao turns to leave.

“Of course, that is not to say we will not join your invasion.” Zuko sounds like his father sometimes, and never more than when his voice holds a hint of smug satisfaction. “Merely, do not presume to think you can order us in any way. We out rank you, and our crew is the best our Nation has to offer.”

Their ship joins, at least in appearance, Zhao’s fleet. That being said, they obey no orders from the Admiral and only allow his “inspections” of the ship and their crew once. For all intents and purposes, they are just there to observe.

And observe they do. The siblings watch the way Zhao treats his subordinates and twin righteous flames burns in their chests. The truth of being raised by a loving father means that Zuko and Azula are both rather sheltered in comparison to their canon selves. They are raised on ideals of honour and the divine responsibility of a monarch, rather than on the truths of war and practicality of rule. It only results in a hotter fire and more questions as to if Sozin’s way was truly the one to follow.

They still have absolute faith in their father. After all, he is the one that raised them, that taught them of honour and the ideals of a monarch. He is the one that sheltered them. He is the one that suggested they befriend the Avatar to keep them safe.

On the ship, only three people know the entire plan. The first two are the siblings, of course. The third is Captain Jee. He is the one that will keep their ship away from the invasion itself so there is no risk of their crew being harmed in the doomed attack. He is the one that will direct the ship to the colonies once the siblings are with the Avatar. Captain Jee has no qualms about technically commuting treason.

Mai knows some of the plan. In that, Mai knows exactly what Zuko and Azula tell her and then what she observes. She sees the way they stick together, now more than ever. Sees the way that Azula trains her non-lethal lightning (because even she, a nonbender, knows it’s far harder to bend lightning that doesn’t kill than that that does). She hears the way they drop the title of Fire Lord when speaking of their royal great grandfather. She catches whispers about Fire Lord Roku. About the Avatar.

Mai, in a way, knows more than the siblings themselves. She knows that they are genuinely sympathetic toward the Avatar in a way that they don’t yet realize. She begins to keep all her knives on her person, along with an easily grab-able bag for travelling in her room. There was no way she’d be letting her best friends turn traitor without her. This is the most exciting thing she’s done in years.

Iroh knows less than he believes. Oh, he gets the dropped title just as well as Mai, but he does not know the intricacies of Zuko and Azula the way Mai does. He sees Azula’s practice and writes it off as her ever-present search for perfection. He catches the tail end of a conversation between siblings and does not stop to consider who exactly “great grandfather” may be referring to. It would be unthinkable for his brother to tell the children of their heritage.

Despite this, Iroh also knows more than most. He knows from conversation exactly what Zhao intends to do in the Northern Water Tribe and it turns his blood to boil.

They reach the Northern Water Tribe. The siblings sneak off the ship in an emergency boat. Mai enters at the last moment and neither send her away.

Iroh has already left the ship, though he is currently in one last meeting with Zhao in an attempt to convince him not to continue with his plan. He will not check back with his niece and nephew, believing them to be safe on the ship.

In the Northern Water Tribe, the three Fire Nation teens remain tucked into the shadows. They, unfortunately, have no idea where the Avatar is and wander through the city. However, they reach the Avatar’s friends before Zhao does.

(“Is he... alive?”

“He’s just meditating.”)

It goes far better than they could have expected. The siblings’ act of releasing Sokka and Katara from Zhao’s bindings results in a part of water tribe siblings being quite willing to hear them out. Princess Yue gives them an odd look but remains quiet.

Zhao shows up. Iroh shows up. Azula and Zuko denounce him (though they cannot bring themselves to denounce their father, even though they know they should). Zhao declares them all traitors, a koi fish in a bag in his hand.

A bolt of lightning hits Zhao straight in the back. Both he and the koi fish fall into the pool of water. He does not emerge.

Azula’s face is carefully blank, even as she watches the water. She cannot stop to consider whether it is her or the water that just killed the admiral, or if he was even dead at all. She could not even see his body in its depths. She used non-lethal strength.

Despite Princess Yue’s backing, the Northern Water Tribe wants to take the siblings prisoner (hostage, everyone knows). After all, everyone knows of the devotion they show to the Fire Lord and vice versa. If nothing else, they would be excellent bargaining pieces in a more formal treaty.

They had not factored this into their plan. Admittedly, they had not factored the Northern Water Tribe into their plan at all.

The three Fire Nation teens are thrown into a prison cell. A rather comfortable prison cell, but still a prison cell. Iroh is taken somewhere else.

Within five hours, they sit on the back of a flying bison, Sokka handing them food he had smuggled out of the meal as Katara was smuggling them out of prison.

(“We tried to get your Uncle too,” the Avatar says in a remorseful tone, “but we couldn’t find him.”

��Uncle will be fine.” Azula declares, her mind set only on the future as she tries not to think about the way Zhao sunk beneath the still surface of the pond.

Zuko nods in agreement and clutches her hand in a comforting way.)

The Gaang now consists of six people:

Aang, a twelve year old Avatar with a mastery in air and a decent proficiency in water. He looks at the Fire Nation teens and sees his friend Kuzon, sees a time from before the war when an Air Nomad could wander freely through the Fire Nation. He attempts to use Fire Nation slang with them but it’s a century old and results in only laughter.

Katara, a master waterbender and healer (a concept that intrigues Azula to no end, although she tries to keep her questions polite). She tends to have a short temper when it comes to matters of the Fire Nation, but even she can be coaxed into trying a few sweets that Zuko has stored in his bag.

Sokka, a hunter and warrior who may or may not be engaged to the NWT princess (Zuko says he is, Azula says he isn’t). Azula laments that her jokes are even worse than Zuko’s, to which Mai agrees. It is that comment that leads Sokka and Zuko to start bonding, having nothing better to do on the bison’s back than exchange bad jokes.

Crown Prince Zuko of the Fire Nation, who Sokka would insist is walking Fire Nation propaganda as he goes on at least one rant about Fire Nation culture and technology a day. Who surprisingly helps Katara with the cooking because it was one of the things Fire Lady Ursa carried over from before she was Fire Lady and taught to her children.

Princess Azula of the Fire Nation, who has a sharp tongue and a sharper pair of twin daggers that she seems to enjoy threatening her brother with for any inconvenience, even though they both just laugh at it. (Katara and Sokka have to be assured by them both that they truly love each other and that threatening each other with weapons carried over from the theatre scrolls they used to act out as children).

Lady Mai talks the least, seemingly content just to talk to Zuko and Azula. Aang makes it his mission to get her to warm up to him and spends a good portion of his time trying to talk to her. He succeeds when he brings up air ball, of all things. Mai’s parents had discouraged her from sport, believing it to be unfitting of a young lady just as they had discouraged her interest in knives until Zuko and Azula had ganged up on them. Partially for that reason, Mai enjoyed sports quite a bit, a shock to even Zuko (though Azula knew). After that, she talks mainly to Zuko, Azula, and Aang.

Captain Jee guides his ship to the Fire Nation colonies, unable to confirm that his Prince and Princess were okay. He hadn’t expected the worry he feels now, but he knows he will be awaiting a letter at Yu Dao if they are safe.

Prince Iroh is startled to discover that, while meeting with Master Pakku, the Avatar, his friends, his nephew and niece, and Mai had all disappeared.

As had his ship.

[bloededhoine]

world building cause twn doesn't part 12: the hen ichaer

i realize i've been mentioning the hen ichaer without really explaining it, and for that i apologize. but without further ado, let's go

colour code cause i fucking love colour codes - already happened/introduced, probably s2, important background info, stuff that might be in the prequel, extras

series masterpost

general

the hen ichaer is basically a magical gene that originated with the elven sorceress, scholar, and princess, lara dorren aep shiadhal

it can lie dormant or inactive for generations, but when someone is an activated carrier of the gene, they are called a source

sources have an insane capability for magic, it's so intense that without instruction they are a huge danger to themselves and/or others. remember pavetta's betrothal feast? hurricanes should not happen indoors

same thing with ciri's sonic scream.

obviously, the hen ichaer is highly weaponize-able, but it's difficult to put this into theory since the magic is so strong that it can easily kill the person who carries it

most important is that the hen ichaer can open ard gaeth, the gates between worlds. you may remember that the witcher is a multiverse, and the continent is just one of countless worlds

aen elle

the aen elle, elves who live in another world called tir ná lia, controlled at least one gate that they used to get slaves from other worlds

however, this was before the hen ichaer was seriously studied. unicorns are also capable of opening ard gaeth, and were present in tir ná lia, so the aen elle would kidnap them to be used as their world-hopping-genocide key. yeah, the aen elle are seriously fucked

the king of the aen elle was named auberon muircetach, and he was very well known for his wars with the unicorns, who weren't too keen on being enslaved for the purpose of conquering other worlds

the hen ichaer came into play when auberon noticed that his daughter, lara dorren, had pretty intense magical abilities. like, ard gaeth opening abilities.

auberon, lara, and a few other elves began studying the gene and trying to figure out how it works and how to use it.

through this study is how we got the title aen saevherne, which is used to distinguish an elven mage with extensive knowledge of history, science, magic, and, most importantly, the elder blood.

both lara and auberon were aen saevherne, as was lara's husband-to-be, avallac'h, and avallac'h's foster son, caranthir ar-feiniel

ithlinne's prophecy

ithlinne aegli aep aevenien was an elven prophet known for her incredibly dark prophecies that she delivered at totally random times. how dark were they? ithlinne's prophecies were almost exclusively about the death of all humanity and/or the end of the world. she was fun at parties.

anyway, when we talk about ithlinne we really only mean one specific prophecy, aen ithlinnespeath. to be confusing it's usually referred to as ithlinne's prophecy

here's the prophecy itself:

Verily I say unto you, the era of the sword and axe is nigh, the era of the wolf's blizzard. The Time of the White Chill and the White Light is nigh, the Time of Madness and the Time of Contempt: Tedd Deireádh, the Time of End. The world will die amidst frost and be reborn with the new sun. It will be reborn of Elder Blood, of Hen Ichaer, of the seed that has been sown. A seed which will not sprout but burst into flame. Ess'tuath esse! Thus it shall be! Watch for the signs! What signs these shall be, I say unto you: first the earth will flow with the blood of Aen Seidhe, the Blood of Elves...

what does that mean? well, the white chill (aka the white frost) is a massive ice age that has been approaching the continent for years. don't believe me? the white frost has destroyed countless worlds in the past, and it literally cannot be stopped. the only way to save the world is by the power of the hen ichaer.

here's a perfectly frightening visual of the white frost

ithlinne didn't elaborate on the how, but we now know that the only to survive the white frost is by finding a new world and massively evacuating the continent through ard gaeth, which can only be opened by the power of the hen ichaer.

genetics

clearly, the hen ichaer is important enough to literally save, or end, the world, but the aen elle did a famously terrible job of studying it. like, you'd think they'd be good at that, but no. to their credit, it is a bit complicated

first, there are multiple types of elder blood genes, the main gene, the latent gene, and the activator gene. to actually show the powers of the hen ichaer, someone would need to either have one latent and one activator, or the main gene.

let's go back to secondary school biology for a second, remember punnet squares? these fuckers

the letters in a punnet square represent a genotype, or the two alleles that are inherited from the parents. phenotypes, on the other hand, are what you see on the outside. for example, a genotype would be Aa but a phenotype would be brown eyes.

while the main gene is a simple dominant allele (shown by a capital letter on a punnet square), both the latent and activator genes are semi-dominant, meaning that when they meet they create a new phenotype: the innate magical ability that makes you a source.

it gets a little less scientific here so bear with me; this new phenotype is so powerful that it sometimes creates a whole new genotype. so instead of having one activator gene and one latent gene, the two would merge and you'd be left with only one (very powerful) main gene. this is the only single gene that actually has magic and it's a dominant gene, so you only need to have one to have the power.

but, the latent and activator genes don't always combine. you still have the full powers when they stay separate, but it is then less likely to pass the hen ichaer your children.

complicated? very much so. but in practice it's a lot easier.

for simplicity's sake i'll call the activator gene g/a, latent gene g/L, main gene g/m and a regular nonmutated gene g/r. to be a source, the genes you inherit would be g/a g/L, but they may combine to be just g/m. your average person would be g/r g/r and a carrier would be either g/a g/r or g/L g/r.

clearly, this makes tracking it pretty messy, since generations of people can be carriers without having a single source

tracking the hen ichaer

for now, let's do what those elven sages couldn't and track then hen ichaer, starting with lara dorren

eventually, lara met an exceptionally talented human mage, cregennan of lod, and they were lab partners (oh my god they were lab partners) in the study of the hen ichaer.

eventually, lara met an exceptionally talented human mage, cregennan of lod, and they were lab partners (oh my god they were lab partners) in the study of the hen ichaer.

for all the studying, lara and cregennan's own genes have always been something of a mystery. elven mages don't tend to have any issues with using themselves as lab rats, so it's entirely possible that lara and cregennan, knowingly or not, mutated their own genes in their research.

ultimately, it doesn't matter what lara and cregennan's genes originally were. by some happy little accident, the two eventually ended up with at least one activator gene and at least one latent gene between them.

later, when lara and cregennan made their own happy little accident, riannon, she inherited one of each gene (g/a g/L), making her a source. however, riannon's genes did not combine as the elves expected, which made her a little harder to study.

riannon eventually met king goidemar of temeria (g/r g/r), and they had two children named fiona and amavet. i'll start with fiona, who the aen elle managed to figure out had the latent gene, making her g/L r

fiona ended up having a baby with king coram II of cintra (g/r g/r), they named him corbett, and he inherited fiona's g/L and one of coram's g/r.

the aen elle lost track of the hen ichaer when they studied riannon's other kid amavet. see, amavet was kind of a whore. he had twins, muriel and crispin, with the married countess anna kameny. obviously, these children weren't legitimate, and when the angry count kameny murdered amavet a few months later, he was officially childless

the elves did, however, manage to figure out that amavet had riannon's g/a gene and goidemar's g/r gene. anna kameny was just g/r g/r, and crispin ended up being g/r g/r as well. destiny does favour the hen ichaer, but sometimes it's just not meant to be. muriel, on the other hand, did inherit her father's activator gene and was g/a g/r.

let's hop back to corbett, fiona and coram's g/L g/r son. he and princess elen of kaedwen (g/r g/r) had a son, dagorad, who got corbett's latent gene and one of elen's regular ones, meaning he was g/L g/r

muriel married robert of garramore (g/r g/r), and their daughter adalia, the dramatically posed lady right there, had the same genetic combination as her mother, g/a g/r

this is where it gets even weirder

the lovely adalia married dagorad. her second cousin. they shared riannon as their great grandmother. feel better in the fact that it was not intentional, adalia's mother, muriel, was not officially riannon's granddaughter. no one would have even known, but adalia's g/a met up with dagorad's g/L in their daughter, calanthe

for the first time since riannon, the hen ichaer was back, and calanthe's parents genes combined to give her g/m g/r

while it took generations of destiny and accidental incest to make the hen ichaer happen again, now that calanthe had the main gene there was a 50% chance she would pass it to her child, which, of course, she did

calanthe and her husband roegner (g/r g/r) had pavetta, who inherited the g/m from her mother. no one knew about this until pavetta literally created a source hurricane, and was already pregnant

pavetta and duny's (g/r g/r) daughter, ciri, inherited the main gene from her mother and was a source.

sources

it's important to note that a source is not necessarily an incredibly powerful sorcerer, merely a person who has the genetic predisposition required to channel very intense magic

sources, like anyone else, can be bad students, allergic to potions, or just generally averse to magic on all levels except heredity. there is also no way to guarantee that even the most willing source will be good at using magic, in fact it's far more common that they will be really really bad at it. sources are extra susceptible to the chaotic state of magic in the world, and many end up pretty seriously harmed by it.

magical talent tends to make itself known in very emotional situations, like the death of a parent or a war. the same applies for sources, but they have an extra rule: their full powers are off limits until they lose their virginities

now, netflix has not mentioned that rule to be true or false, but i'm going to think of it as strictly book/game/etc canon, because ciri is 10 years old when netflix shows her using her source powers for the first time

the virginity rule makes things even more complicated, as customs about premarital sex are pretty strict in the witcher world (well, among nobility), and the dudes didn't seem to have fast reflexes. what i'm saying is that getting pregnant the first time you had sex was not uncommon. sources couldn't even use, and likely weren't aware of, their powers until they were already passing them on to another generation.

and even still, there is no guarantee that someone who is a source will ever actually show their powers. calanthe had the genetics, but she wasn't a mage. what happened? we don't really know. after calanthe married, cintra was pretty peaceful; there were no invasions or massive upheavals that could put enough stress on her to show her powers. plus, her parents didn't know she had any magical powers, so they didn't give her the training that would develop them, and she was a very level headed person who would likely be unaffected by many of the things that would make another source lose their shit.

[littlesparklight]

Deaths in Corinth

"Medea, what have you done?"

Medea looks up from Medeios greedily sucking little face as he tries to empty her out to still his hunger, and though she'd been worried by Jason's tone alone, the expression on his face leaves her breathless. The dark gazes of two of the most hostile and contrary elders that are supposed to be their ever-ready and ever-helpful advisers and instead have been like snakes in the grass since she and Jason arrived silences for yet another beat or two. A shiver, chill like the grimmest wind blown in from the mountains, steal down her spine. Clutching her youngest child closer to her breast - which he doesn't mind at all, just yet, Medea straightens up.

"What am I supposed to have done?" she asks, voice light, spine stiff, her hands wishing to curve into claws in answer to those dark, dark eyes of the old men flanking Jason.

"Th--- You, the children, Medea. How could you?" Jason is moments from crying, his voice breaking twice and threatening more, and he is utterly unknowing of the sneering little look from one elder. The other has better control, but Medea can see the aborted twitch that reveals the suppressed eyeroll. She can also see what has happened, and Medes wails a protest as she inadvertently rips him from her breast to pull him close, up against her instead of peacefully laying in her arms, little hand squeezing her full breast.

The children. The children, all thirteen of them, that she'd left at Hera's sanctuary last night as she'd done for the last several years on this very night every time it came by again, to see if this would be the night Hera would fulfil her promise. The children are dead, and those vulture-eyed, dog-mouthed men flanking her husband have killed them. Killed them because they had never been happy at foreigners ruling them, one more foreign than the other, and that a woman should be the primary of said rulers.

Or they have had a part in the killing in some way, even if they didn't do it themselves, which makes them just as guilty as she, though the people she has indeed killed were not her own children.

Medea grits her teeth, then opens her mouth, but between that and uttering her next few words in defence, she can see it doesn't matter what she says. They have poisoned Jason against her, and they have broken him.

"When I left our children at the sanctuary, they were alive, Jason. What has happened?"

The truth is sludge in her mouth, and they all know she's understood what's happened, but her quick understanding has only damned her further. She can see what little light, mad and needy, that still clung to Jason's brown eyes go out like she'd snuffed a candle with her last words. He's not going to survive this. She could drag him with her and he will still die, for it will take her too long to convince him she isn't at fault. In fact, she might have to fight for her life as he wished to kill both of them in whatever last spark of actual agency that might still exist in him.

Oh, Jason.

Too easily downtrodden, always looking for others to lead, so often laid to catastrophising. She'd never minded, not really, but now his faults have allowed others to break him, and they know it.

The only reason Medea isn't planning some way to take suitable revenge is that she knows death will be coming for them anyway, and for the whole of Corinth. They have killed in Hera's sanctuary, and more than that, they've killed children the goddess have promised a gift to. Maybe if the goddess had actually given her gift earlier, they wouldn't be here, but now it is late, all too late, and Medea's galloping heart and tight grip on her last living child can't quiet or soothe Medeois.

The room rings with his cries, and for now that is the only mourning his other siblings will receive. Jason as well, dead man walking as he is. She just hopes he kills himself in a kind way, but she has a feeling he will wish to punish himself when he has done no wrong.

"Medea... You're the one who was last seen with them, and they're dead." Jason closes his eyes, and she can breathe a little more easily for being out under that haunted, broken stare. Enough to jog her thoughts into more than a swirl.

Great Helios, beloved of Rhodes, grandfather, hear me! I am without recourse, cornered like a lioness with only one cub left, the strong father lying slain before her with his great mane covered in gore. Aid your family if you ever had any love left for your mortal children!

She can only hope he has heard her and, more than that, is willing to offer aid that might be when and where she'll need it.

"And it is me you think would kill them? I, who have fed them at my breast, each and every one of them, who have given them to Hera Akraia in the hope of immortality for them, as I was promised?"

Jason flinches at her words as if she's punched him, but, compared to what might have been the result years before, now it doesn't urge him to listen to her. Instead he merely hunches, as if his spine had just been broken, and he looks at her with wide, begging eyes and holds his hands out. They're strong, still, but trembling, revealing the sensitivities and weakness that were always there.

The poison is too deep, and she can feel the smug pleasure of the two elders lurking behind her husband.

"Please, Medea. Just confess," Jason whispers, his voice raw like the blood surely coating Hera's altar right this moment, for Medea doubts the Corinthians have washed it away just yet. No, they needed to have Jason see it, needed him to know it was still there, and it needs to stay until she's dead, until Jason is dead too. It will only condemn them further.

Oh, she has killed for this man, and he has been dear to her, but she cannot kill herself for him as well.

Medea smiles tightly, her ears ringing with Medeios' cries, and stands up. Shifts Medeios onto one arm, tipping her to lie against her chest, head cushioned against her shoulder, and at last his cries dwindle into sobbing hiccups, slowly calming just as Medea's heartbeat is. The breeze coming in from the window is warmer than it was minutes ago, and there's a golden tint to the light that wasn't there before.

"I can't confess to a crime I haven't committed, my heart. I might have killed my brother, I might have killed Pelias, bu---"

"And you killed Kreon," one of the men sneers at her, righteous when there is the blood of thirteen children on his hands. Medea laughs, mockingly. Jason only slumps further, but there's a brief frown she can just barely see on his forehead, there and then gone. He doesn't believe that, at least, well as he might when he was there right with her being summoned to Kreon and heard the man himself.

"I gave Kreon the assistance he wished for, after he'd already proclaimed my birth, as well as that of my husband’s, made us worthy to rule this fair city of yours that you have besmirched with innocent blood. I have killed, but not my children."

Jason, her poor, poisoned husband, starts crying. Medea's heart hurts, but there's nothing she can do. Not when he draws his sword - and not to turn on the men behind him, for the poison they have given him have eaten its way far too deep into his heart, via his eyes and ears. A far more powerful poison than any magical such she could devise.

She smiles as he makes ready to charge her, but he's slow, so slow she has all the time she needs to draw the fragile little glass bottle from the layered flounces of her skirts, and as she throws it he looks almost grateful for it.

Oh, Jason.

She can't kill herself for him, but she can also not kill him, for either of them.

That will be her weakness and another pain to bear into the future, for this is only a distraction, a way for her to escape.

Smoke explodes up as the glass shatters, noxious and dark like the ink of squid, and she is the squid fleeing. Medea whirls around, throwing herself at the window, then out of it, and she almost falls straight off the chariot as she hits it hard with her shoulder and hip, her weight and speed tipping it sideways. Clutching at the rim with strength only a desperate mother could know, Medea manages to pull herself up, grab the reins and urge the shining drakones to move, all without falling off or losing her baby.

Her baby, who is giggling now, despite the shock of their flight, and Medea looks down with burning eyes and tears spilling down her cheeks to the boy in her arm, chewing at one of the golden rings that binds her tresses. He looks like Jason.

"Don't worry, my eyes," she whispers, leaning down to kiss the top of his soft head, tiny wisps of dark curls caressing her chin and cheeks while tears caress Medeios' skull, "they might have gotten all the others, but they won't get you. Or me."

Exhaling sharply, Medea straightens up, tightens her grip on the reins as she turns the snakes eastwards, and lets the golden wind dry her tears.

***

So, this is inspired by, and drawing from, several old/er sources (Pausanias, Eumelos, scholia on Eumelos) for what happens in Corinth. Medea seems most often to have killed her children, either inadvertently, or, as in Euripides, intentionally. The scholia says it was the Corinthians, angry at having a foreigner ruling them, for Eumelos in his Korinthiaka had Medea (and Jason) summoned to Corinth and given rulership, explicitly on the grace of Medea’s bloodline. The children are killed in the sanctuary of Hera Akraia (by the Corinthians in this version), where Medea has been leaving them in expectation of Hera fulfilling her promise to her (here, my intention is that Hera’s promise is the reward for Medea’s help to kill Pelias). In the version where the killings happen inadvertently, Jason can’t forgive her and leaves for Iolkos. So what happens as a background to this is Medea, as an agent of Hera, kills Pelias for his insult to her, she and Jason have to leave Iolkos, they are summoned to Corinth and given rulership, Kreon dies (childless, hence why Medea and Jason have been summoned).

I would honestly not have done this at all but reading all this in Early Greek Myth by Gantz I was just slapped in the face by inspiration, and as much as I am so damn cranky over so many people crowing about Medea doing nothing wrong (her brother and her children says hello), I am pleased with this.

[sooave]

The Problem With Wanting: 1

It’s 2026, and an old celebrity crush comes to haunt your old and cynical heart. You’re doing great at pretending you were never obsessed with him, and finding things about him that you don’t like. Until you’re repeatedly forced to work with him. Until he decides that he’s in love with you.

Genre: I really don’t know what to call this, but it’s not an AU, Kyungsoo’s older and still a celebrity, and it’s friends-to-lovers.

Characters: Kyungsoo x Reader 

Length: 2,314 words

Tags: Angst, Slow Burn 

Part 1 | Part 2

The problem with wanting, was that the human brain’s pathways are more easily activated for desire, rather than liking. In other words, humans naturally want things more than they actually like them. Obviously, you didn’t fault anyone for that. You knew that humans are all victims of the mechanisms of their biological systems.

Just like how you never blamed your own body for being frustratingly uncooperative when it was exactly a week before your period.

Just like how you didn’t fault Do Kyungsoo at all for confessing to you, and asking you to be his girlfriend. You knew that he just wanted you. Now if he actually had you, he’d certainly be disappointed. No, his brain would be disappointed.

Being single at age 30 was surprisingly easy for you, considering the fact that it practically made you a spinster in Asian society. Your parents’ one saving grace was that they immigrating to North America, and brought you in tow. When you returned to Korea as a full-fledged adult with a string of ex-boyfriends and old jobs behind you, it was increasingly apparent to you that Korean society was at times lovely, but hugely flawed.

Back home, the Korean aunties that your mother would bring home no longer gave a shit about the fact that you were, God forbid, an artist. And an unmarried and childless one to boot. Their own children had put them through a fair share of self-perceived grievances already, and while most of them were still conservative at heart, they knew that they lived in a society where their values weren’t necessarily correct. You knew that they didn’t all understand that their values were straight up incorrect. But at least you didn’t get harassed about your life choices.

Coming back to build a career in your birth country had you encountering situations that made you laugh and feel uncomfortable at the same time.

“You’re self-employed? How are you ever going to find yourself a husband?” You’d tell them that being your own boss in fact made your schedule much more flexible. And that you fill up the time with pursuits that actually improved your life, like cooking and yoga. Not shitty dates with people you couldn’t connect with.

Of course, the nosy aunties would continue heavily implying that your life’s purpose was to find a good husband, carry your bloodline, and take care of the home.

“Thirty?? You should have had two kids by now?” You would politely inform them that you weren’t interested in having children, and if you did, you’d adopt an orphan in need instead.

“There won’t be any good men left at this point! You’re in trouble now.” This one, you couldn’t really argue with. You were a firm believer that if someone was single for an extended period of time, there was a reason.

Most of the time, they were a shitty person. Other reasons? Nursing a heartbreak. Pining after someone unattainable. Obsessed with their career. Etcetera.

And you?

You didn’t have your priorities straight. But after a countless number of bad dates, bad relationship, mediocre relationships, and some okay ones, you kind of had an idea of what you didn’t want in a boyfriend. You were doing just peachy by yourself, for now at least.

Sure, maybe you’d want to find a life partner eventually. That would come naturally. You were also a firm believer in the fact that the best matches are found organically.

But surprisingly to you, one of the blind dates that you’d begrudgingly gone on 3 years ago was actually bearing some fruitful benefits. Your date was an assistant PD at one of the largest entertainment companies in Seoul. He was a decent guy, but was insistent about being the sole provider for his future wife. That obviously didn’t check out with you.

Luckily, he didn’t hold a grudge against you for cutting your third dinner date short once you learned of that particular value, and even suggested you as an artist for several show segments. Today, your expertise was blackboard art. Other days, it was digital painting, or watercolours. But they all focused on food illustrations.

Seung-woo, your ex-date, had a particularly annoying habit of talking your ear off while you were working. For some reason, he assumed that the several hours you spent slaving away with your arm raised over the chalk board was the perfect time to catch up with you and ramble on about his love life.

“And then, she started ordering the spicy chicken even though I had explicitly mentioned that I had an upset stomach! Really. The nerve of her.”

“Oh…” you hummed disinterestedly as you filled in the grey base colour of the fish that you were drawing for the background of this board. Apparently, some professional chef along with a celebrity guest were going to be in the kitchen today filming an episode on ways to cooking methods for fish in Korean cuisine. This particular series was something you’d seen before while you were living in the U.S., and while you felt that Korea was a bit slow on the uptake, at least they were doing something interesting with it. You didn’t get to see a lot of Korean traditional cooking methods on American-owned YouTube channels.

“So… we’re going on a second date tonight. What should I say?”

If you were in America, you would have already told Seung-Woo off for disrupting your work and being a total wuss. But this was Korea, and you couldn’t really afford to offend the very person who got you this job contract. Plus, gossip travelled like wildfire, and soon you’d be labelled as difficult to work with and saying bye-bye to your steady income.

You had to take a deep breath and set down your chalk, in fear of snapping it in annoyance.

“Did that tell you something?”

Seung-woo set down the kitchen prop that he was playing around with onto the counter.

“Tell me what?” He echoed.

“Did her action of ordering the spicy chicken tell you that she had an undesirable trait that you cannot accept from a partner?” Your tone was bordering on one that a disapproving teacher would take when reprimanding a student, but luckily Seung-woo didn’t catch that.

He wasn’t as taken aback by your mannerisms as he used to be, but ever since you explained that you spent all of your formative years abroad, he was able to rationalize all of your non-conservative behaviours.

Instead, he actually thought of your advice and comments as thoughtful and interesting. You always refrained from mentioning that your perspective came from years of counselling and therapy, in fear that he’d label you as psychotic. Seung-woo had no idea what mental health was.

After a round of hums and haws, he finally responds.

“You’re right, it did. Are you trying to say I shouldn’t go on the date tonight?”

“Hey, I just asked a question. You came to that conclusion your self!” You turn around and throw a dirty rag that you’ve been using into his chest.

That finally got him to leave you alone, after whining about your aggressiveness and how unladylike you were. Luckily, you still had plenty of time to finish the piece, and once the annoyance hindering your progress was gone, the flow started to come naturally to you.

Time began to fly by as it usually did when you were absorbed with your artwork. Before you knew it, it was already time for the segment filming to start. It wasn’t everyday that you timed your work perfectly, but today you hit the deadline exactly.

You knew that the filming was about to begin because of the camera lights had began to turn on, and a buzz of conversation had started to grow in the centre of the room. Sometimes it irked you that you were working right in front of a dozen cameras and microphones, but it was comforting to know that they had absolutely zero interest in filming you.

Seung-woo had unfortunately appeared again, appearing behind you like a golden retriever wagging it’s tail. You were packing up boxes chalk into your carrying case, attempting to ignore him as much as possible, but something he said caught your attention.

“Wait. What? Who?” You had absolutely no idea what he had said, except for the fact that a horribly familiar name fell from his lips.

“Do Kyungsoo. You don’t know of him?”

“No, I do…” Too well, in fact.

“Well, he’s here right now. I could get you an autograph if you wanted too. Just ask your oppa nicely!” He shot you a shit-eating grin and you almost want to strangle him amidst the absolute panic you were experiencing.

You weren’t experiencing a real panic attack, thankfully. But the way your hands were shaking as you placed each piece of chalk back into it’s designated slotted groove gave away that you were one-hundred-percent losing your mind. As your heart raced in your chest, you did a mental checklist of the facts that faced you right now.

You were, or you used to be, absolutely obsessed with Do Kyungsoo as a celebrity. This was back in your late teens, when you were a freshman at college.

You had not thought about him, or even looked up his name, in almost 5 years. Real life got in the way. And your cynicism.

And he was right here.

In this very room.

Suddenly, your brain was kicked into hyper-awareness mode, and it was almost impossible to resist the urge to finger comb your hair and smooth out your clothes. Fuck. You weren’t even wearing a cute outfit. Today had been a boyfriend jeans and black t-shirt day for you.

Seung-woo was still standing in front of you, looking at you expectantly, and you reminded yourself that you had to actually respond.

“Er… no. I’m good, Seung-woo,” you rolled your eyes at him, “What makes you think that I’d want an autograph? You do remember that I’m an old hag right?”

He noticed that you were having difficulty stuffing your chalk boxes back into your bag, and leans down to help you.

“Who said that you can’t have celebrity crushes at age 30? I wouldn’t shame you for that. Plus, you’re still single…” Seung-woo waggled his eyebrows.

“Oh my lord,” You mutter in English to yourself, before switching to Korean.

“Idols are for the young or the delusional. Plus, they’re just regular ol’ people just like me. You take anyone with a bit of talent and a decent face and I’m sure they could pass as an idol.” This is a mantra you’ve repeated to yourself almost a million times, and it rolls off your tongue.

“God, you’re always so cynical…ah!” Seung-woo stands up to greet someone and leaves you struggling with your bag on the floor.

“No, I’m just old,” you said to yourself as you right yourself.

And then you come face to face with a profile that you’ve started at on your phone screen, your computer monitor, and even billboards, umpteenth times. It’s closer now, way closer. You saw the slight smile lines on his cheeks, and the unevenness of his skin that hasn’t been photoshopped out. But his strong eyebrows and heart-shaped smile were the same. And his eyes.

Kyungsoo was shaking hands with Seung-woo and another PD, but his eyes flickered to you briefly as you got to your feet. And then they’re gone. Like they didn’t see you at all.

You took a deep breath and reminded yourself that he’s just another person. He probably leaves his phone ringer on. That’s something that annoys you. Annoyance. It’s your weapon against anything you’re scared of. But it’s also grounding you in this insane moment.

Reminder, you’re staff. He’s the star of the show.

“Ah! This is our chalk artist, she made the board behind us,” Seung-woo declared proudly and grabbed your arm to pull you back, just as you were preparing to sneak away from the awkward circle of personnel. You’ve never cursed so strongly in your own mind before, and a string of fuckshitfuckshitfuck was still going through your mind as you gave a tight smile and bowed. All while avoiding eye contact.

You saw Kyungsoo and a few others glance at your work and you couldn’t help but cringe. God help you, you had confidence in your work, but were you completely unprepared for your teenage/young adult celebrity crush to judge you. They politely express amazement at the board, and you robotically thank them.

Seung-woo continued to discuss some detail about the segment and you took the opportunity to duck away and escape with your bag, not even taking a second look back. You were tempted of course, as you left through the studio doors. You could even stay to watch the entire filming, and no one would object. They knew who you were.

But there was no way you would be able to not fall back into your stupid crush that you still had, if you were able to just stand and watch him cook for an hour and a half. You were too old for this.

You gritted your teeth as you got in your car, placed your duffel on the passenger seat, and buckled your seatbelt.

Today, you would be an adult and do the right thing.

Tomorrow, you’d give dating apps another go.

But right now, you imagined another universe, where he was a regular person, and so were you. Then, you could allow yourself to fall in love. You closed your eyes and leaned your head onto the cold glass of the window and allowed yourself to fantasize.

A/N: I’m totally throwing this into the void and doing this for myself but part two is coming.

[theemightypen]

my dear @heckofabecca asked for 11) reunion kiss but tumblr ate the ask, so here you go, bb! hope you like it <3

(for anyone keeping track, this is in the same pre-war political marriage as this fill which you may want to read first!)

The air is thick with the smell of blood and fear. Lothiriel is so tired she can barely stand, but stand she must. They need all the hands they can spare to help tend to the wounded and to soothe the children. The noise from the battle is muted by the caves’ walls, but she is the daughter of a war-time Prince, sister and cousin to seasoned soldiers--she knows what the sounds mean, and it is not a good omen. 

The odds were impossible to begin with--an army of hundreds, a good portion of them withered old men and boys too young for beards, up against thousands of Orcs, if Lord Aragorn is to be believed. Hope has been dwindling for them all as the battle has raged on. Eowyn is brittle, defiant, in her anger at the situation they’ve been pinned into, but it is clear she has put her faith wholly in Lord Aragorn’s skill and luck.

It is clearer still that she thinks she loves the Ranger, but Lothiriel knows her sister-in-law well enough by now to know she will not appreciate her saying such a thing. 

As it is, it is hardly the time to think about such matters. She should be focused on keeping her wounded charges comfortable, with offering comfort to the mothers and wives who may be widows and childless even now. It is what her father would want her to do. It is what Eomer would want her to do. The thought of him, riding across the Plains, unaware of what his people are suffering is like a dagger at her breast. The thought of never seeing him again is even worse. 

At least he will not die here, she thinks, smoothing a whimpering boy’s hair as gently as she can, at least his fate will not be like so many others--

“Lady Eowyn! Lady Lothiriel!”

She blinks in surprise as Gamling--faithful, unwavering Gamling--limps towards them. He is covered in blood, likely his own and others’, and his face is grim. 

“Gamling, what news?” Asks Eowyn, efficient and forthright as ever. 

“The keep is near lost. Gather the supplies and people you can. You must take the people through the caves. I do not know how much time we can give you, but we will fight--to the last man--to keep you all from harm.”

Lothiriel swallows thickly. “But what of you? What of the King?”

“The King’s mission is to protect his people. Mine is to protect him. You must go, now, my ladies, and quickly.” 

“We can fight!” Eowyn argues. “We are just as able as our brethren--”

“Eowyn, these are your king’s orders. Obey him--for what may be the last time.” 

Eowyn’s jaw settles, mulishly, but Lothiriel suspects she is reacting this way to keep from crying. There is the very real possibility she will lose yet another member of her family in a matter of hours--if they are even alive at all to know it. Lothiriel is biting her own lip to maintain her composure, and her self control is nothing compared to Eowyn’s iron grip on her own. 

“We will do as Theoden King asks,” Lothiriel confirms, because what else can she say?

The relief on Gamling’s face is painful. “Good. Bema be with you--you both are the Riddermark’s hope, now.” 

That seems to snap Eowyn out of her pout and she turns, barking orders to any who are able to ready to move for fresh torches and all the water they can carry. Gamling vanishes back the way he came, leaving Eowyn and Lothiriel to manage the now frantic crowd. The sudden deep thrum of a horn makes her jump.

“What is that?” 

“The horn of Helm Hammerhand,” Eowyn says, sharp with nerves and impatience, “it is said that Helm would kill Dunlendings barehanded when it was blown. If only we had a warrior like that now, perhaps we would not be scurrying away like frightened rabbits.” 

“There is no shame in saving what life we can,” Lothiriel says, aghast at her sister-in-law’s position, “for the sake of those we lead and the sake of those who we have lost, Eowyn--”

“They are my people,” she snaps and ah, here it is again, this one jagged thing between them, “mine in a way that you cannot understand, Lothiriel, no matter how much you love my brother.” 

The mention of Eomer stings, deeply, and Elbereth help her, this is not the conversation she wants to have right now. Not when it could be one of the last things she ever does, not when she knows, in part, Eowyn is only saying this because of the visceral fear she too must be feeling. “Perhaps that is true. But I will help you save them, care for them, as if they were mine in that way. Not only for the love I bear Eomer, but the love I feel for you. And for them.” 

That softens her and she squeezes Lothiriel’s hand. The horn still echoes as they begin to herd the people towards the narrow passage. It would be slow going even with the fully healthy, but between the old and the wounded, it is nigh panic-inducing.

“Send the children first,” Lothiriel suggests. “The children and the most able-bodied young women--the rest of us can guard the back.”

Eowyn nods, reaching for her sword, but Lothiriel stops her. “Eowyn, you must go with them.”

“I am not afraid of a fight! I am a shieldmaiden--”

“And perhaps the last member of the House of Eorl. They will need you to lead them.”

Lothiriel is glad she has not had the time to mention her suspicion that has been growing in Eomer’s absence, for Eowyn would fight her if she knew--would likely fight any woman potentially carrying a child for not being among those going first through the passage. But Lothiriel has come to understand Rohan since her marriage. They will not follow her for the promise of a child, but Eowyn is as close to a princess as they have, at present. A daughter of kings. Their kings, unbroken for generations. They will follow her, as they followed her uncle, into battle and even death. 

Still, Eowyn hesitates. “Eomer will not forgive me if I leave you.”

If Lothiriel’s last words to him must be ‘I love you’, she is content. She cannot regret them, even if he does not feel the same. “I will not forgive myself if we do not do what’s right for your people.” 

Eowyn opens her mouth to say something, but she is drowned out by a sudden burst of cheering, intermingled with tears.

“My lady!” Someone shouts. “My lady, there is no need to take the passage!”

“What?” Asks Eowyn. “Explain yourself at once.”

“Gandalf has returned with a full eored! He and Lord Eomer--”

Lothiriel’s knees nearly give out and she slumps against the wall even as the women around her give cries of alarm. 

“--they have defeated the Uruk-hai! We are saved!” 

The tears begin in truth, now, and dimly she’s aware of Eowyn dragging her back towards the doors to the keep. There is a mad press all around them, of people crying and laughing and cheering, but Lothiriel can think of nothing else other than Eomer is here, Eomer is safe, we are all safe--

“Uncle!” Eowyn cries, and then she is gone, throwing herself at the weary yet triumphant form of Theoden King. A gentle hand on her arm has replaced Eowyn’s desperate grip and Lothiriel blinks a few times before recognizing that it is Gimli who is frowning up at her in concern.

“Lass, you’re white as a sheet. Come, come, let us find you somewhere to sit--”

“No,” she says, her mind foggy with relief and grief, all at once, “no, I must find--I must find my husband--”

“Your young horse master will find you soon enough, my lady,” he insists, gently shepherding her to a barrel and all but forcing her to sit upon it, “I do not think he would be overly pleased to find you in a faint when he does.”

That makes her laugh, a little. “I have never once fainted in my entire life, Master Dwarf.”

“No sense starting now, then,” he says. “Now, where is that confounded Elf? He had best not be trying to up his score…”

 Lord Legolas is, in fact, poking at a few corpses with an arrow, and Lothiriel laughs herself nearly sick when Gimli explains why. Then Lord Aragorn arrives and Eowyn is throwing herself at him, too relieved to guard her more tender emotions. Gandalf appears, miraculously untouched by the grime covering everyone else, grumbling about something as is his wont. Behind him is--

Behind him is Eomer, broad-shouldered and magnificent in his armor. A few other soldiers are with him, clearly asking for his input on one matter or another, and he looks near to losing his impressive temper.

“Deorwine, enough,” he finally barks, “I will answer these questions later--I want to find my wife!”

Valar, she is so happy to see him whole and hale that she cannot speak. Gimli seems to know this and winks at her before crying over the din, “Your wife is here, laddie.”

She’s vaguely aware of standing, of starting to walk towards him, but Eomer is there before she can so much as blink, crushing her against his chest so tightly she can scarcely breathe. She knows she’s crying, messily and without reserve, and she should be embarrassed to behave in such a way, in front of so many people, but she cannot bring herself to care. Not when Eomer’s arms are trembling around her, or she can feel the rasp of his beard against her temple, and the deep rumble of his voice as he says something in Rohirric to her is overwhelming her senses. 

“Hello,” she finally manages, leaning her head back just enough to meet his eyes, “oh, Eomer, hello.” 

“Lothiriel,” he says, and then he kisses her. Dimly, she’s aware of a small smattering of applause and a happy hoot that sounds suspiciously like Eothain, but that’s of little consequence when Eomer is kissing her like he’s been desperate for it. Like he’s missed her as much as she’s missed him.

He rests his forehead against hers when he finally lets her up for air, and Lothiriel has to reach up to take his dear, dear face between her hands. He is plainly bone weary and smells strongly of horse. There has never been a more welcome sight. 

“You came back to me,” she whispers.

“You asked me to. How could I do otherwise?” 

She huffs a laugh--of all of the times for him to tease! But then Eowyn is pushing herself into both of their embraces, and they are all crying, even Eomer. The rest of the day is such a blur that she cannot recall all of the dear faces she has seen, the words of relief and love and joy shared. She blinks in surprise to find herself all but pressed into bed, stripped of her filthy gown and left in only her somewhat less dirty shift.

“I should change,” she murmurs, flinging a leg over the side of the bed with the intention to stand.

“You will rest,” Eomer says, falling upon his side of the bed heavily and managing to drape an arm around her waist in the same instant. “You looked near enough to sleep this morning and an entire day has passed since then.”

“I smell.”

“So do I. I do not care if you do not.” 

She cares, but she cares more to have him close, stink or no. Sighing, she settles back onto the bed, pleasantly pinned under the weight of his arm for the first time in what feels like years. Rolling onto her side, she reaches for his face, cradling his still somewhat dirt-encrusted jaw in her hand. “I missed you. Oh, Valar, I have missed you so much.” 

Eomer swallows, drawing her closer until his nose is pressed against her temple and she is tucked too tightly against him to see his face. “I have missed you more than I thought possible. Lothiriel...Lothiriel you must know, I should have said it long before Wormtongue’s damned machinations separated us, but I love you.”

She cannot help it--she sobs, just a little, against the hollow of his collarbone. Eomer tightens his arm around her and she thinks, I am home, he is home, he IS home--

For now, anyways. And for now, that is enough.

[vaultofqueenorion]

Review of The Handmaid’s Tale

This book hit me like a ton of bricks. I get a sick feeling every time I think seriously of it, and it chilled me all the way to the bone. And yet, it is such an incredible book, in all its psychological horror. I think the worst part is that I see attributes and slivers of the book in everyday life. There’s a truth to it, and it doesn’t ring hollow. 

Read the book. But read the book only if you can stomach it, because it is truly gruelling. I would never call this a good book. Interesting, observant, thought-provoking, yes. But it is not one that has ever or ever will bring me entertainment.

Trigger warnings / TW / Content warnings: the book goes into detached detail with rape, forced pregnancy, murder, hanging, angry mobs tearing apart living people, shootings, killings, massacres and total oppression. Do not read if you are sensitive to any of these subjects. 

The Title

The title befits the book in two ways; first, it is the tale of Offred (as we know her only), a handmaiden to the Commander. The Commander is likely Frederick R. Waterford, as is discussed in the epilogue of the book, but that is never confirmed. 

What is a handmaiden, you ask, if you have never seen the popular Hulu series or heard of the book. A handmaiden is a woman (girl in the book to remove agency) that is ‘bound’ to a married couple who are unable to conceive children - in the book, we hear only of the whereabouts of the handmaidens of the Commanders and their Wives. 

The handmaiden is stripped of her name, her family, her identity, and she has to serve the couple - she is forced to give them children in a twisted ritual that apparently has root in biblical texts. Basically, she is raped in the presence of the couple in order to bear children for barren women who could otherwise not do so. 

The title also refers to the name of the ‘item’ which is a series of cassettes written into a manuscript discussed at the conference of the ‘Twelfth Symposium on Gileadean Studies’ in the year 2195. 

It is a has-been; a recollection of the events recorded by the same woman from whom we read the story, and the speaker at the conference makes several jokes throughout his speech to keep the mood light and the audience entertained. 

It is a detached study in the history of America when it crumbled to a totalitarian patriarchal society that oppressed women in drastical terms and through drastic means. 

The Characters

Offred is meek yet strong-willed. Outspoken yet scared. It is as if she lives as a chameleon, never quite touching the ground of who she really is, but instead latching on to the world and society around her. 

The most remarkable thing about her is, in fact, her normality. She wonders, she becomes angry and yet she doesn’t do anything. Because what can one person do against overwhelming odds? When the other option is death, do you choose to live in submission?

The quote is one that I feel sums up her character. Instead of raging at the world like the heroes we see in stories, she tries to change the very core of her being to align with the wishes of new society. 

She does what many ordinary people would do, simply because fear is one damn powerful motivator. She feels she has no other choice. And she holds on to hope, throughout it all. Hope that she might - just might - see her daughter or her husband again. Hope that she might break free. 

We never do find out whether she finds absolution for that hope or not. 

The Commander lives a parallel life to the handmaidens. In all actuality it seems he lives a parallel life to the women of the dystopian world. He says that he wants Offred to have a pleasant or at least bearable existence, but what he does is that he gets her to indulge in things that he wants to do. He dresses her up and parades her around in secret bars where other girls are ‘working’ as if he owns her - which shows us that he kind of believes that he does. 

Even when he gives Offred something - a magazine - he doesn’t really think of how it is for her.

It is not only ignorance - it is also a lack of wanting to know. He simply doesn’t care enough about her existence to know that she cannot do so. Or he pretends to, playing the ‘good guy’ who doesn’t have anything to do with the hellscape Offred lives in. 

The thing is, this kind of ignorance is commonly participated in throughout society - just take a look at the men who say that they suddenly ‘understand how women feel’ when they pose as women online. Or the white people who ‘never knew how bad POC had it’ because they simply never bothered to look. 

It just hits a little too close to home, that’s all.

Serena Joy / the Commander’s wife is a chilling person. To be a woman, to see what is being done to other women, and yet still somehow hating them for it, as if it isn’t the higher up around her - including her own husband - who have orchestrated this. 

And then there’s this quote:

It does have several meanings to it. To Joy it means that she longs for children, that she wants them so badly that she will do anything in her power to get them. To Offred it means that if she cannot provide a strange family with children through rape, she will be shipped off to a faraway place where she will likely starve to death

Perspective, indeed.

Offred wants so desperately for her friend and the personification of the rebellion in her mind, Moira, to go out in a ball of fire. To burn the whole damn thing to the ground and either walk away, a cigarette in hand, or die trying. 

It seems that there is something in her that longs to be near her, as if Moira is the ideal that she strives towards, and when she never hears from her or sees her again, there is a melancholy and yet an emptiness to her words. 

She talks about their relationship once, before it all went to hell, and this quote is from that:

Luke. Luke, Luke, Luke. Offred misses Luke, and of course she does. He was her husband, the man she was waiting on while he cheated on his then partner, and the father of Offred’s daughter. And yet. 

I hated him so much. 

Just the mention of him sent spiders crawling down my spine, and really, the cheating was bad enough. Even worse was the small signs of misogyny - him saying that Offred losing her job was no big deal, that they would get through it together. Him joking with her about it - about how she could stay at home now, how he would have the power. 

No, I really didn’t like that casual display of superiority. 

Offred’s daughter is part of the next generation of Wives. Sent off to some lucky childless family, this eight year old girl will be groomed and bred into the oppression around her, and at some point, she will stop questioning the world. 

After all, as Aunt Lydia said to Offred:

Offred’s mother is a full-blooded feminist, which causes her to be shipped off to die early on. She’s an abortion advocate, and one of her most telling quotes is:

As a reply to when Offred in the past says that Luke’s teasings are nothing. But the mother understands. Understands the work that it has taken to get this far, and the work that needs to be done, lest they slip back into oppression.

And you know what? People languished in their complacency at the time of the coup, and the totalitarian society crept into the shadows, settling more and more and consuming the light as time passed by.

The Plot

The plot is really not the remarkable part of this story. Yes, Offred goes to town, befriends a fellow handmaid (this one is part of the resistance, peeps!), attends the ceremony, is taken to the Commander’s office, then later to the forbidden bar. 

The places aren’t so much important as what Offred observes. The small injustices, the doctors and scientists handing from the Wall, the Particicution in which the handmaids tear a man apart because he has allegedly raped someone (which is then told to be untrue; he is part of the resistance group, and handmaids murdering him with their bare hands is a good way for the totalitarian government to get rid of him). 

In truth, the handmaids have no real chance of getting themselves out, if they do not collaborate with Mayday, the resistance group. In truth, they are stuck in their miserable places, and that is why one of the earliest quotes from Offred is so chilling:

This is also why the handmaids live with the bare minimum of utilities - they are watched as they bathe, no light fixtures are present, matches are forbidden, knives unsupervised are forbidden. 

Because so many have killed themselves in desperation to get out of the hell that they have found themselves in. 

The Language

Margaret Atwood especially puts focus on the horror of the world that Offred lives in through two means; the conference / historical notes at the end of the story which brings a light and humorous view on the totalitarian society, and the on-the-verge-but-not-quite tone of hopelessness that Offred uses to describe her tales through. 

Aunt Lydia is often the catalyst for this kind of hopelessness. In the times where Offred tried to convince herself that this really is better. That the world is not quite as bleak, and that she actually has it better now than before.

It is a form of brainwashing that is already beginning to form. And what else can she do, one might think. She has to survive somehow. 

And yet, she brings herself to rekindle a fire once in a while. To open the lid on the anger, the resentment, the fierce cruelty of the world that she is faced with. It is something that she does internally, and one of the more prominent moments of this is when she is faced with the Commander in his office. 

The butter in this scenario refers to a tiny rebellion - an act of survival in a way that goes against the schemes and oppression of the world around the handmaidens. The most telling thing is that he laughs at her - as if the way of coping, the secret tips that are being shared between the handmaidens is nothing more than child’s play.

And it probably is to him. 

With a good standing, a good life and a sweet deal compared to the majority of this society that he helped create, he would never think to ‘stoop’ to such methods. 

The oppression is strong in this one, is all I have to say. 

Notes and worthy mentions

The Ceremony. Ooooh, the Ceremony. Of the most convoluted, terrible scenes I have ever had the displeasure of reading, this detached form of rape, explained as the rape is occuring, was terrifying and horrifying and I really, truly never want to read anything like it again.

Also, Offred calls it something else. She doesn’t want to call it rape, because she feels as if she had a choice - not much choice, but still choice. 

One thing that ticked me off was the mention of Mayday and the Underground Femaleroad - the latter a smuggling ring made to get the women out of their horrible positions. 

And the person at the historical conference calls it a Frailroad. Yes, it’s a shortening of female and road, but dang. And the worst thing is? It is totally realistic as to how it would probably be called - just look at how we treat the witch trials or say feminazi if a feminist speaks up about something that’s a ‘little too radical’. I call BS, is all, even if it just goes to show that Margaret Atwood knows what she’s doing when she writes. 

In conclusion

It is not a good book. It is magnificent in the way it portrays something that many women feel at least slivers of and amplifies them in a way that pierces your heart and leaves you dangling at its mercy. 

Books are meant to entertain, yes, but they are also meant to challenge, to inquire, and to make you think. Rarely has a book stayed with me for this long after I have read it, and rarely have I seen more parallels from the world we live in capable of being drawn to this hellscape that Margaret Atwood has created.

There is truth in this horrifically fantastic book. And this means that I cannot help but give it five paws out of five. The alternative would have been to have given it zero, but the thing is that I have seen society in such a new light after reading this that it wouldn’t have been fair. 

[wetooarestarstuff]

8/9/20

People like to ask me the question, am I a vegetarian? I often don’t know how to answer this question in a way that would make them understand, because the world seems to think of vegetarian and nonvegetarian as two extremes: Either you don’t touch any meat, or you absolutely love meat and feast on it. While I can eat meat if it’s there (especially the prepped, boneless versions), I’m not big on it and I’m very picky about the meat I do eat (the whitest part of chicken, for example, which people say is the most untasty compared to the redder flesh of the legs, and I can’t, and frankly don’t know how to, chomp on a drumstick). I cook nearly all my meals, but I never buy raw meat from the store and cook that. All the meat that I do occasionally consume, I buy cooked. 

When I visit long-time-no-see relatives, they cook a lavish meal over the table. And when they see me eating so little meat, they ask me if it’s because of religious beliefs. It isn’t anything noble like that. Very simply, I’m just not a fan of the taste of meat (I like the whitest portions of meat because they are the most tasteless), like how some people don’t like broccoli or mushrooms. There’s no external reason to it; it’s just personal preference. It’s the same for other quirks. For example, I’m not big on having children either and could live my whole life without ever having any children. Other people who may want to be childless cite environmental concerns - overpopulation, displacement of wildlife, etc. I haven’t thought so far out into the world. I’m strictly going by my own experience: If life on Earth is so full of suffering, why would I want another person to experience it?

Recently I read an excellent blog post on the morality of meat eating. The writing expanded my view on the topic and completely solved the moral dilemma of meat eating for me. I agree with every sentence in it. I’ll just briefly pick out what I read to be the core ideas:

“Homo sapiens have both hunted and gathered food for as long as we know… humans have been in a constant struggle for survival… Fast forward past the agricultural revolution and the industrial revolution… humans find themselves in relatively well-developed societies… rooted in production and consumption which have resulted in an excess of everything necessary for survival… 

“While we humans have increased our meat consumption, we have also broken the link between the act of killing a living being and reaping the harvests of such an act. Our ancestors would have to do the dirty work themselves and thus knew at what cost such valuable meat really comes. A hunter taking down a wild animal for food, or a farmer slaughtering one of his precious cows, will both respect and appreciate the animal for its “blessings”… if we cannot bear to witness a slaughter or even hunt a wild deer, then there is no excuse for us to feast on an abundance of meat solely because of the stimulation of our taste buds.”

About the part of the ancient hunter working hard to obtain meat thus knowing the cost of the meat and respecting it, I was reminded of a part in Kino’s Journey (originally a Japanese light novel made into two anime series). In episode two of the first anime series released in 2003, Kino, the protagonist, meets a traveling group. The group is trapped by heavy snow, their truck can’t start, and they’re freezing and starving. Kino captures a rabbit, kills it, and then she (yes, Kino is a girl, as she said herself) takes her hat off, showing respect to the creature. She cooks the rabbit and feeds it to the starving men, rejuvenating them. 

Later, she confides to her companion Hermes, a talking motorcycle, that she had mixed feelings about helping the men. Hermes asks her why. She says that if she didn’t help them, one rabbit wouldn’t have died. Hermes is confused, asking her that she has hunted before. 

Kino replies, “The reasoning is different if I'm hunting for myself. In this situation, even though I hold neither resentment nor obligation towards either those guys or the rabbit, I still decided to help out one rather than the other.”

Hermes asks, “Is it because they are your fellow humans?”

Kino says, “Well, that's the way it looks.”

[roman-catholic-mass-readings]

26th September >> Mass Readings (Europe, Africa, New Zealand, Australia & Canada)

Saturday, Twenty Fifth Week in Ordinary ︎Time 

    or

Saints Cosmas and Damian, Martyrs 

    or

Saturday memorial of the Blessed Virgin Mary.

Saturday, Twenty Fifth Week in Ordinary ︎Time

(Liturgical Colour: Green)

First Reading

Ecclesiastes 11:9-12:8

Remember your creator in the days of your youth

Rejoice in your youth, you who are young;

let your heart give you joy in your young days.

Follow the promptings of your heart

and the desires of your eyes.

But this you must know: for all these things God will bring you to judgement.

Cast worry from your heart,

shield your flesh from pain.

Yet youth, the age of dark hair, is vanity. And remember your creator in the days of your youth, before evil days come and the years approach when you say, ‘These give me no pleasure’, before sun and light and moon and stars grow dark, and the clouds return after the rain;

the day when those who keep the house tremble

and strong men are bowed;

when the women grind no longer at the mill,

because day is darkening at the windows

and the street doors are shut;

when the sound of the mill is faint,

when the voice of the bird is silenced,

and song notes are stilled,

when to go uphill is an ordeal

and a walk is something to dread.

Yet the almond tree is in flower,

the grasshopper is heavy with food

and the caper bush bears its fruit,

while man goes to his everlasting home. And the mourners are already walking to and fro in the street

before the silver cord has snapped,

or the golden lamp been broken,

or the pitcher shattered at the spring,

or the pulley cracked at the well,

or before the dust returns to the earth as it once came from it, and the breath to God who gave it.

Vanity of vanities, the Preacher says. All is vanity.

The Word of the Lord

R/ Thanks be to God.

Responsorial Psalm

Psalm 89(90):3-6,12-14,17

R/ O Lord, you have been our refuge from one generation to the next.

You turn men back to dust

and say: ‘Go back, sons of men.’

To your eyes a thousand years

are like yesterday, come and gone,

no more than a watch in the night.

R/ O Lord, you have been our refuge from one generation to the next.

You sweep men away like a dream,

like the grass which springs up in the morning.

In the morning it springs up and flowers:

by evening it withers and fades.

R/ O Lord, you have been our refuge from one generation to the next.

Make us know the shortness of our life

that we may gain wisdom of heart.

Lord, relent! Is your anger for ever?

Show pity to your servants.

R/ O Lord, you have been our refuge from one generation to the next.

In the morning, fill us with your love;

we shall exult and rejoice all our days.

Let the favour of the Lord be upon us:

give success to the work of our hands.

R/ O Lord, you have been our refuge from one generation to the next.

Gospel Acclamation

cf. Acts of the Apostles 16:14

Alleluia, alleluia!

Open our heart, O Lord,

to accept the words of your Son.

Alleluia!

or

cf. 2 Timothy 1:10

Alleluia, alleluia!

Our Saviour Jesus Christ abolished death

and he has proclaimed life through the Good News.

Alleluia!

Gospel

Luke 9:43-45

They were afraid to ask him what he meant

At a time when everyone was full of admiration for all he did, Jesus said to his disciples, ‘For your part, you must have these words constantly in your mind: “The Son of Man is going to be handed over into the power of men.”’ But they did not understand him when he said this; it was hidden from them so that they should not see the meaning of it, and they were afraid to ask him about what he had just said.

The Gospel of the Lord

R/ Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.

——————————-

Saints Cosmas and Damian, Martyrs 

(Liturgical Colour: Red)

(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)

First Reading

Wisdom 3:1-9

The souls of the virtuous are in the hands of God

The souls of the virtuous are in the hands of God,

no torment shall ever touch them.

In the eyes of the unwise, they did appear to die,

their going looked like a disaster,

their leaving us, like annihilation;

but they are in peace.

If they experienced punishment as men see it,

their hope was rich with immortality;

slight was their affliction, great will their blessings be.

God has put them to the test

and proved them worthy to be with him;

he has tested them like gold in a furnace,

and accepted them as a holocaust.

When the time comes for his visitation they will shine out;

as sparks run through the stubble, so will they.

They shall judge nations, rule over peoples,

and the Lord will be their king for ever.

They who trust in him will understand the truth,

those who are faithful will live with him in love;

for grace and mercy await those he has chosen.

Responsorial Psalm

Psalm 125(126):1-6

Those who are sowing in tears will sing when they reap.

When the Lord delivered Zion from bondage,

it seemed like a dream.

Then was our mouth filled with laughter,

on our lips there were songs.

Those who are sowing in tears will sing when they reap.

The heathens themselves said: ‘What marvels

the Lord worked for them!’

What marvels the Lord worked for us!

Indeed we were glad.

Those who are sowing in tears will sing when they reap.

Deliver us, O Lord, from our bondage

as streams in dry land.

Those who are sowing in tears

will sing when they reap.

Those who are sowing in tears will sing when they reap.

They go out, they go out, full of tears,

carrying seed for the sowing:

they come back, they come back, full of song,

carrying their sheaves.

Those who are sowing in tears will sing when they reap.

Gospel Acclamation

James 1;12

Alleluia, alleluia!

Happy the man who stands firm,

for he has proved himself,

and will win the crown of life.

Alleluia!

Gospel

Matthew 10:28-33

Do not be afraid of those who kill the body

Jesus said to his apostles: ‘Do not be afraid of those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul; fear him rather who can destroy both body and soul in hell. Can you not buy two sparrows for a penny? And yet not one falls to the ground without your Father knowing. Why, every hair on your head has been counted. So there is no need to be afraid; you are worth more than hundreds of sparrows.

‘So if anyone declares himself for me in the presence of men, I will declare myself for him in the presence of my Father in heaven. But the one who disowns me in the presence of men, I will disown in the presence of my Father in heaven.’

———————————

Saturday memorial of the Blessed Virgin Mary 

(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)

First Reading

Genesis 3:9-15,20

The mother of all those who live

After Adam had eaten of the tree the Lord God called to him. ‘Where are you?’ he asked. ‘I heard the sound of you in the garden;’ he replied ‘I was afraid because I was naked, so I hid.’ ‘Who told you that you were naked?’ he asked ‘Have you been eating of the tree I forbade you to eat?’ The man replied, ‘It was the woman you put with me; she gave me the fruit, and I ate it.’ Then the Lord God asked the woman, ‘What is this you have done?’ The woman replied, ‘The serpent tempted me and I ate.’

Then the Lord God said to the serpent, ‘Because you have done this,

‘Be accursed beyond all cattle,

all wild beasts.

You shall crawl on your belly and eat dust

every day of your life.

I will make you enemies of each other:

you and the woman,

your offspring and her offspring.

It will crush your head

and you will strike its heel.’

The man named his wife ‘Eve’ because she was the mother of all those who live.

Responsorial Psalm

1 Samuel 2:1,4-8

My heart exults in the Lord my Saviour.

My heart exults in the Lord.

I find my strength in my God;

my mouth laughs at my enemies

as I rejoice in your saving help.

My heart exults in the Lord my Saviour.

The bows of the mighty are broken,

but the weak are clothed with strength.

Those with plenty must labour for bread,

but the hungry need work no more.

The childless wife has children now

but the fruitful wife bears no more.

My heart exults in the Lord my Saviour.

It is the Lord who gives life and death,

he brings men to the grave and back;

it is the Lord who gives poverty and riches.

He brings men low and raises them on high.

My heart exults in the Lord my Saviour.

He lifts up the lowly from the dust,

from the dungheap he raises the poor

to set him in the company of princes

to give him a glorious throne.

For the pillars of the earth are the Lord’s,

on them he has set the world.

My heart exults in the Lord my Saviour.

Gospel Acclamation

cf.Lk1:28

Alleluia, alleluia!

Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee!

Blessed art thou among women.

Alleluia!

Or:

cf.Lk1:45

Alleluia, alleluia!

Blessed is the Virgin Mary, who believed

that the promise made her by the Lord would be fulfilled.

Alleluia!

Or:

cf.Lk2:19

Alleluia, alleluia!

Blessed is the Virgin Mary,

who treasured the word of God

and pondered it in her heart.

Alleluia!

Or:

Lk11:28

Alleluia, alleluia!

Happy are those

who hear the word of God

and keep it.

Alleluia!

Or:

Alleluia, alleluia!

Blessed are you, holy Virgin Mary,

and most worthy of all praise,

for the sun of justice, Christ our God,

was born of you.

Alleluia!

Or:

Alleluia, alleluia!

Happy is the Virgin Mary,

who, without dying,

won the palm of martyrdom

beneath the cross of the Lord.

Alleluia!

Gospel

Matthew 12:46-50

My mother and my brothers are anyone who does the will of my Father in heaven

Jesus was speaking to the crowds when his mother and his brothers appeared; they were standing outside and were anxious to have a word with him. But to the man who told him this Jesus replied, ‘Who is my mother? Who are my brothers?’ And stretching out his hand towards his disciples he said, ‘Here are my mother and my brothers. Anyone who does the will of my Father in heaven, he is my brother and sister and mother.’

[dfroza]

Love.

it certainly isn’t just about sexuality since Love is actually God our Creator who formed the human body, in male & female.

we won’t even be sexual beings in Heaven since it is for the physical body on earth. but sex on earth is certainly reserved for the purity of the “marriage bed”

Today’s reading of the Scriptures from the New Testament is the 13th and closing chapter of the book of Hebrews:

Let love continue among you. Don’t forget to extend your hospitality to all—even to strangers—for as you know, some have unknowingly shown kindness to heavenly messengers in this way. Remember those imprisoned for their beliefs as if you were their cellmate; and care for any who suffer harsh treatment, as you are all one body.

Hold marriage in high esteem, all of you, and keep the marriage bed pure because God will judge those who commit sexual sins.

Keep your lives free from the love of money, and be content with what you have because He has said, “I will never leave you; I will always be by your side.” Because of this promise, we may boldly say,

The Lord is my help—

I won’t be afraid of anything.

How can anyone harm me?

Listen to your leaders, who have spoken God’s word to you. Notice the fruits of their lives and mirror their faith.

Jesus the Anointed One is always the same: yesterday, today, and forever. Do not be carried away by diverse and strange ways of believing or worshiping. It is good for the heart to be strengthened by grace, not by regulations about what you can eat (which do no good even for those who observe them). We approach an altar from which those who stand before the altar in the tent have no right to eat. In the past, the bodies of those animals whose blood was carried into the sanctuary by the high priest to take away sin were all burned outside the camp. (In the same way, Jesus suffered and bled outside the city walls of Jerusalem to sanctify the people.)

Let’s then go out to Him and resolve to bear the insult and abuse that He endured. For as long as we are here, we do not live in any permanent city, but are looking for the city that is to come.

Through Jesus, then, let us keep offering to God our own sacrifice, the praise of lips that confess His name without ceasing. Let’s not neglect what is good and share what we have, for these sacrifices also please God.

Listen to your leaders and submit to their authority over the community, for they are on constant watch to protect your souls and someday they must give account. Give them reason to be joyful and not to regret their duty, for that will be of no good to you.

Pray for us, for we have no doubt that our consciences are clean and that we seek to live honestly in all things. But please pray for me that I may be restored to you even more quickly.

Now may the God of peace, who brought the great Shepherd of the sheep, our Lord Jesus, back from the dead through the blood of the new everlasting covenant, perfect you in every good work as you work God’s will. May God do in you only those things that are pleasing in His sight through Jesus the Anointed, our Liberating King, to whom we give glory always and forever. Amen.

Please, brothers and sisters, pay attention to this word of exhortation, for I have written only a few words to you.

I want to tell you that our brother Timothy has been set free; and if he arrives soon, he will come with me when I see you next.

Give my greetings to your leaders and to all of God’s people. Those of Italy greet you.

May grace always be with you.

The Book of Hebrews, Chapter 13 (The Voice)

Today’s paired chapter of the Testaments is the 1st chapter of the book of Lamentations that is exactly that in pouring out words of lament:

Aaghh! Lonely is this city that once bustled with life;

Cheer is empty; like a widow, she is abandoned

and oh, so lonely.

She who was a princess, great among the nations,

has lost everything and been forced to serve as a slave.

Bawling, she weeps without constraint every night,

cries herself to sleep, bitter tears streaming down her cheeks.

Her former friends ignore her;

there is no one there to share her sorrow;

Companions contend and have betrayed her;

friends have been unfaithful and turned against her as enemies.

Carried off to a foreign place, Judah is exiled in misery

and debased by affliction and hard labor;

She cannot find rest living among the pagan nations.

She tried to run and hide, but in her distress pursuers have overcome her.

Despair permeates the very dust of Zion’s roads.

Nobody walks them in anticipation of celebration and worship.

No one enters the city’s desolate gates bringing offerings or sacrifices to God.

The religious leaders are heavyhearted,

And the virgin women despair.

It’s so bitter for dear Zion!

Enemies of Jerusalem have gained the upper hand.

Her foes prosper against her.

The Eternal One has caused her sorrow because of her rebellions,

for she acted against Him, willfully, again and again.

Even her little ones are taken away at the whim of her foes.

Faded beauty, this daughter Zion.

Her princely young men, like stags,

They have no place to graze, no strength to fight;

they fled to the woods,

Pursued mercilessly by hunters.

Gone are the days that she remembers, happy and precious;

Jerusalem wanders aimlessly and remembers what precious things she has lost—

Things from the old days of David, Solomon, and Josiah.

But now her people have fallen to her enemies,

And in this defeat by her enemies, no one ran to her aid,

and her enemies now snicker and gloat at her downfall.

Hideous must be Jerusalem’s crimes

that the city itself is now morally and ritually impure.

Those who once admired her now hate her.

They strip her naked and laugh.

All she can do is groan

and shrink back, ashamed.

Impurity clung to her inside the cover of her clothes.

She refused to consider anything but the present,

Never expecting her impurity would be revealed.

Nobody came forward with comfort—no one.

Lady Jerusalem: See, Eternal One, how badly I suffer

and how my enemies swell with pride.

Jabbing and fondling,

mauling all her treasures, the enemy takes stock.

Foreign nations enter even her holy place,

claiming what You decided was off-limits

And forbidden to them—Your temple.

Kept in hunger,

her people are desperate for food.

Once prosperous, they trade her treasures

for nourishment of any kind.

Lady Jerusalem: Look, Eternal One—

really see how hated I’ve become.

Look around, you who pass by and go about your business.

Is there any sorrow as great as mine?

Any pain as great as that which has been forced on me?

No. Because my pain comes from the Eternal.

It is His judgment, rendered on the day of His intense anger.

My bones burn with the wrath of God,

the fire sent from on high.

He laid a trap, then left me,

turned me back to the destruction,

With the shakes, constantly sick and faint.

Now the burden of all my wrongs is a yoke.

God has laid them upon my shoulders,

Bound them around my neck.

He has made sure I’m too weak to support them.

The Lord gave me into the hand of an enemy.

I could not resist.

Overwhelmed by none other than God,

the Lord has determined that all my warriors are worthless.

He has summoned a meeting of those who are against me

to crush the young men who would protect me,

And He has stomped lovely Judah, virgin daughter,

like grapes in a winepress.

Pity, my eyes won’t stop their crying; I can’t stop.

There is no one nearby to comfort me or revive my spirit,

No one to pull me up.

My children know it—they’re left empty,

The enemy has won.

Quietly, Zion spreads out her hands, pleading for comfort.

But no one comes. The Lord forbids it.

God has commanded Jacob’s enemies

to surround her.

Jerusalem has become their foe;

she is an impurity among them.

Lady Jerusalem: Right and true is the Eternal One.

I am the one in the wrong: I have rebelled against His law.

Listen all of you peoples.

See how much I have suffered;

My handsome men and my gentle women, unmarried and unprotected,

have marched away into captivity.

Summoning my lovers brings nothing—

nothing but pain in their betrayal.

The old guard, religious and political leaders,

have died starving here in the city;

Their search for sustenance failed.

Take account, Eternal One, of me; how miserable I am.

My belly growls and turns;

My heart is wrung out like a rag; my faults and failings are to blame

because I have been rebellious.

Death is everywhere in the homes;

the sword makes women childless in the streets.

Uncaring, with no compassion from others,

they know how badly I suffer.

O how alone I am.

My enemies gloat, and You have brought about my misery,

So happy to know I’m in pain.

But You, O God, will make them as bad off as I.

Vindicate me and judge their evil actions

and make them suffer,

As You’ve made me suffer

for all my wrongdoings.

I’m a wreck, and I groan with a faint heart.

The Book of Lamentations, Chapter 1 (The Voice)

A link to my personal reading of the Scriptures for Tuesday, October 5 of 2021 with a paired chapter from each Testament of the Bible along with Today’s Proverbs and Psalms

A post by John Parsons that takes a look at “In the beginning…”

10.04.21 (Tishri 28, 5782) "In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth, and the earth was "tohu va'vohu" - without form and empty, and darkness was over the face of the deep..." (Gen. 1:1-2). The sages comment that knowing that God created the heavens and the earth makes us realize that by themselves earthly things are without purpose and substance, since life in the natural world is havel havalim (הֲבֵל הֲבָלִים), "vanity of vanities," apart from the design (form) and the substance of God. Faith in the upper "world" of God, that is, the heavenly realm, therefore evokes a sense of discontent and longing within the soul, and the temporal world and its pleasures will seem distracting and empty. This lack of form and emptiness was part of the original design of creation, however, since it was after God had created the universe that "he saw everything that he had made, and behold, it was very good" (Gen. 1:31).

Just as we cannot see light but by means of it we see other things, so with Yeshua, the Light of Life, the Form and Substance of God... By His illumination we are able to see the spiritual reality of God's Presence and invincible love... Yeshua is "the radiance of the glory of God and the exact imprint of his nature, and he upholds the universe by the word of his power" (Heb. 1:3). He is the Fountain of Life: by his light we see light (Psalm 36:9). Amen, God is light, and in Him is no darkness at all (1 John 1:5).

and another:

10.04.21 (Tishri 28, 5782) Our restoration begins with God's love and passion. God's first question to Adam after he broke covenant was: "Where (אַיֶּכָּה) are you?" - the voice of a loving Father in search of his son (Gen. 3:9). Of course God knew exactly how his son was attempting to hide, though He almost acted as if He was unwilling to believe that he would betray his love by disobeying His commandment. Therefore God's poignant question was directed to Adam's heart: "Oh my son, how did you get to this place?" God was giving Adam an opportunity to turn back to Him, to confess the sin, to undergo teshuvah, to become reconciled... This is the necessary prelude to any honest relationship with God.

Recall that the original promise of the coming Savior was given within the context of the curse and judgment upon Satan: "I will put enmity between you and the woman, and between your seed and her seed; he shall crush your head, and you shall crush his heel" (Gen. 3:15). That God's promise was first directed to Satan is surely by design, since he "left his first estate" by becoming the "monster in the garden" and was therefore primarily responsible for the transgression of Adam and Eve in the first place (Ezek. 28:13-15,19). The promise delivered to Satan was therefore one of coming retribution and divine judgment: Evil would not have the last word in the matter of mankind, and therefore Satan's schemes would be avenged by God in the fullness of time (Gal. 4:4-5). Notice, however, that Adam and Eve were not yet judged for their sin when the LORD God gave the promise of the coming of the Redeemer. Before a word of judgment was directed toward them, God's love and light was already revealed. Indeed, immediately after their judgment was pronounced, "the LORD God made tunics of skin for Adam and his wife and clothed them" (Gen. 3:21) - a clear picture of being compassionately "robed in righteousness" imparted by an innocent sacrifice. The very first sacrifice recorded in the Torah - performed by God Himself - prefigured the coming redemption by the "seed of the woman" who would die as a substitutionary sacrifice for their sins, and therefore Yeshua is rightly called "the Lamb slain from the foundation (or beginning) of the world" (Rev. 13:8). This further explains why Eve's son (Abel) offered a blood sacrifice that was accepted by the LORD, whereas Cain's offering the "fruit of the earth" was rejected.

The very first prophecy of Torah therefore describes - in the most succinct form - the coming of the Savior and the great conflict of the ages. First, God declares that He would put enmity (אֵיבָה) between Satan and the woman. This enmity, or "hostile hatred," was based on the memory of Eve's misguided trust she evidenced in the garden. When Eve first sympathetically listened to the lies of the nachash (serpent), she immediately began her descent into exile and became a temptress herself. Her first step toward sin was a gullibility or openness that ultimately resulted in a lack of trust of God (which is part of the reason why we must be saved by trusting, as a "like-for-like" reversal of the original sin). At the very dawn of human history, then, we see that "truth" (אֱמֶת) apart from God (א) leads to death (מֵת). Eve was deceived because of Satan, but Adam deliberately chose to disobey God (2 Cor. 11:3; 1 Tim 2:14). In response to her teshuvah (repentance), God blessed Eve before He judged her by imparting to her a God-given hatred for Satan and his lies, as well as the promise that she would take part in the birth of the Savior of mankind. The first promise of the gospel, then, focused on the woman and her role in the coming redemption. Notice that Adam later renamed his wife Eve (i.e., Chavah: חַוָּה, the "mother of life") as an expression of his faith that the promised seed would come through her.

to be concluded with this post about the garden:

When Adam was put in the Garden of Eden, God told him that he was free to eat from any tree in the Garden except from "the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil" (עץ הדעת טוב ורע), which logically implies that evil existed before that time. After all, the knowledge of something assumes the existence of that thing, and if there was knowledge of evil, then evil would exist, at least potentially... If we understand evil (in this context) as a volitional act of disobedience to God's will, the existence of moral agency that could disobey the divine imperative must be assumed. And since the angels were created before the earth was created (Job 38:4-7), then Satan, understood to be an angelic being, had rebelled against God some time before the original prohibition was given to Adam and Eve. Good and evil are therefore terms defined in relation to the person and nature of God: that which is "good" is what God reveals as good, and that which is evil is the negation (or privation) of that good. God's inherent goodness is non-derived and absolute, however, and therefore there is no standard "above" God that determines his judgment about what is good and what is evil. God is the source of all goodness, whereas the "sitra achra" (סִטְרָא אָחֳרָא), or the "other side" of God's will, is the realm of evil or demonic powers.…

Some time after Adam and Eve were created, a mysterious being called "the serpent" (or “nachash”) appeared in the Garden tempting them to do evil by disobeying God. In the Torah we read: "Now the serpent was more "subtle" or "cunning" (עירם) than any other beast of the field that the LORD God had made" (Gen. 3:1). Notice that while the serpent was described as "cunning," he had disguised himself as a "beast of the field" (חַיַּת הַשָּׂדֶה). In his ploy to sabotage God's crowning act of creation, he slyly pretended to be a humble animal that was curious about God's appointed king and queen over the earth. "Was it really true," the serpent began, "that God said you shall not eat from any tree of the garden?" Undoubtedly the serpent deliberately misrepresented God's will as he set his bait. Eve responded to the question by correcting the beast, teaching him that they were allowed to eat fruit from any of the trees in the garden except for the tree in its midst. She then recalled God's commandment, saying: "You must not eat from it, and you must not touch it, or else you will die" (Gen. 3:2-3). In this connection note that Eve had misquoted the commandment by adding the prohibition not to touch the tree -- something God did not say (Gen. 2:16-17).

At any rate, the serpent, seizing the opportunity to exploit Eve's overstatement, then directly contradicted her understanding of the matter: "You shall not surely die!" He then insinuated that God's ulterior motive was to restrict access to the Tree because it would cause their eyes to be opened so they would become like God, knowing the difference between good and evil. It is telling that the serpent accused the Creator with being envious, since that is how he rationalized his own decision to turn away from God, thinking that God did not want to share his glory with any other being than himself (Isa. 14:14).

The trap having been set, Eve became ensnared by doubt. First she began looking the tree over and saw that it bore pleasant fruit; then she recalled the serpent's praise of the fruit of the tree as the means of gaining god-like insight about good and evil, and finally, in her desire, she took some of the fruit, ate it, and gave some to her husband (who was with her). The effect of their transgression was apparently immediate: "The eyes of both were then opened, and they knew that they were naked (עירם); and they sewed fig leaves together and made themselves coverings" (Gen. 3:7).

The serpent had spoken a partial truth: their eyes were opened, but when they saw their own inner evil, they were ashamed. They went dark; they withdrew into lonely and fearful exile. They wanted to hide the truth from themselves and from God himself.

Later, when Adam and Eve heard the sound of God walking toward them in the garden, they attempted to hide themselves among the trees. The Lord then called out, "Ayekah?" Where are you?, though of course he knew exactly where they were hiding. God was calling out to his lost children, asking them to turn back to him. Adam then stepped out from among the trees, covered with fig leaves, and anxiously said, "I heard your voice but I was afraid because I was naked..." (Gen. 3:10).

Recall that when God had created Adam and Eve they were "naked but not ashamed" (Gen. 2:25), but now, after their transgression, their nakedness became a source of fear. Their innocence was lost and this led them into a shattered state of anxiety and self-awareness.

The "original sin" is depicted as eating from the fruit of the "Tree of the knowledge of good and evil," the access of which was gained by means willful disobedience to God, and the consequence of which was separation from God, or "spiritual death." Note that the effect of the curse of spiritual death was "passed down" to the progeny of Adam and Eve as a lethal condition judicially derived from the original transgression in the Garden. In other words, since Adam and Eve functioned as "federal heads" of the human race, their sin was consequently imputed and transmitted to the rest of humanity, as it is written: "Therefore, just as sin came into the world through one man, and death through sin, so death spread to all men because all sinned" (Rom. 5:12).

It is interesting that the same Hebrew root (i.e., ערם) is used to describe both the "cunning" of the serpent (Gen. 3:1) and the "nakedness" of Adam and Eve after their sin (Gen. 3:7). In Satan's case, God exposed his pride which resulted in exile from the heavenly realm (Isa. 14:12-15; Ezek. 28:12-14). After his fall, the "nakedness" of Satan led to the shameless "celebration" of lawlessness and the cunning devices of evil. In the case of Adam and Eve's fall, however, the "uncovering" resulted in exile from the Garden and the shame and fear derived from their own wicked hearts. In both cases, however, the root cause of evil was pride that exalted the will of creature above that of the Creator, and in both cases the consequence of usurping God's authority resulted in judgment and spiritual death. God's judgment upon Satan, however, was irrevocable, since Satan had "nakedly" sinned before the Divine Presence in the realm of the eternal, whereas Adam's judgment was provisional until the coming of the Savior, who would overthrow Satan's claim to be the federal head of fallen humanity by means of the perfect obedience and sacrifice of the "Last Adam," the Son of Man, who would withstand the temptation of the evil one and gain the victory on our behalf. God signified the promised ransom to come by graciously clothing Adam and Eve with the skin of the first sacrificed animal, offered by God himself, in anticipation of the Lamb of God who would take away the sins of the world (Gen. 3:21). [Hebrew for Christians]

10.5.21 • Facebook

Today’s message (Days of Praise) from the Institute for Creation Research

October 5, 2021

The Heart of Stone

“Having the understanding darkened, being alienated from the life of God through the ignorance that is in them, because of the blindness of their heart.” (Ephesians 4:18)

The blindness mentioned in our text is the same word used to describe a kind of stone. In verb form, this word indicates a process and means “to make hard or to petrify.” Often the word is translated as “hardness.”

The people of Israel developed a hard heart and mind toward God and the things of God (2 Corinthians 3:13-15), which continually brought grief and anger to the Lord Jesus (Mark 3:5). Even the disciples suffered from this hardness (Mark 6:52; 8:17).

Our text is directed toward New Testament believers who are challenged not to become blinded or petrified as are unbelievers. This petrification in the moral realm can be compared to the loss of sensation in the physical realm—a kind of spiritual paralysis as when sensor and motor nerves no longer respond. “Who being past feeling have given themselves over to lasciviousness, to work all uncleanness with greediness” (Ephesians 4:19).

Petrification of once-living tissue usually takes place over the course of many years, as each organic molecule decays and is removed, with the space it occupied refilled with stony material dissolved in groundwater percolating through the host material. Or it may take place as material is injected into the living tissue, thus stopping all life processes. In just such a way, the hardening of the heart can take place slowly, but finally petrification is complete. Petrification of wood can be stopped by removing it from the decay-and-replacement process, but natural processes cannot return it to its former state. Praise God that we can “put on the new man” (v. 24) with a renewed (new) mind and spirit (v. 23), no longer hardened toward the things of God. JDM

[piouscatholic]

#UniversalisCom

Thursday, 24 June 2021

Solemnity of the Birth of Saint John The Baptist🌼🍀🌼🍀🌼🍀🌼🍀🌼🍀🌼🍀🌼

Readings at Mass

First reading Jeremiah 1:4-10 ©

Go and say whatever I command you and do not fear

The word of the Lord was addressed to me, saying,

‘Before I formed you in the womb I knew you;

before you came to birth I consecrated you;

I have appointed you as prophet to the nations.’

I said, ‘Ah, Lord; look, I do not know how to speak: I am a child!’

But the Lord replied,

‘Do not say, “I am a child.”

Go now to those to whom I send you

and, say whatever I command you.

Do not be afraid of them,

for I am with you to protect you –

it is the Lord who speaks!’

Then the Lord put out his hand and touched my mouth and said to me:

‘There! I am putting my words into your mouth.

Look, today I am setting you

over nations and over kingdoms,

to tear up and to knock down,

to destroy and to overthrow,

to build and to plant.’

Responsorial Psalm

Psalm 70(71):1-6,15,17 ©

My lips will tell of your help.

In you, O Lord, I take refuge;

let me never be put to shame.

In your justice rescue me, free me:

pay heed to me and save me.

My lips will tell of your help.

Be a rock where I can take refuge,

a mighty stronghold to save me;

for you are my rock, my stronghold.

Free me from the hand of the wicked.

My lips will tell of your help.

It is you, O Lord, who are my hope,

my trust, O Lord, since my youth.

On you I have leaned from my birth,

from my mother’s womb you have been my help.

My lips will tell of your help.

My lips will tell of your justice

and day by day of your help.

O God, you have taught me from my youth

and I proclaim your wonders still.

My lips will tell of your help.

Second reading 1 Peter 1:8-12 ©

You did not see Christ, yet you love him

You did not see Jesus Christ, yet you love him; and still without seeing him, you are already filled with a joy so glorious that it cannot be described, because you believe; and you are sure of the end to which your faith looks forward, that is, the salvation of your souls.

It was this salvation that the prophets were looking and searching so hard for; their prophecies were about the grace which was to come to you.

The Spirit of Christ which was in them foretold the sufferings of Christ and the glories that would come after them, and they tried to find out at what time and in what circumstances all this was to be expected.

It was revealed to them that the news they brought of all the things which have now been announced to you, by those who preached to you the Good News through the Holy Spirit sent from heaven, was for you and not for themselves.

Even the angels long to catch a glimpse of these things.

Gospel Acclamation

Jn1:7;Lk1:17

Alleluia, alleluia!

He came as a witness,

as a witness to speak for the light,

preparing for the Lord a people fit for him.

Alleluia!

Gospel

Luke 1:5-17 ©

'Your wife Elizabeth will bear a son'

In the days of King Herod of Judaea there lived a priest called Zechariah who belonged to the Abijah section of the priesthood, and he had a wife, Elizabeth by name, who was a descendant of Aaron.

Both were worthy in the sight of God, and scrupulously observed all the commandments and observances of the Lord.

But they were childless: Elizabeth was barren and they were both getting on in years.

Now it was the turn of Zechariah’s section to serve, and he was exercising his priestly office before God when it fell to him by lot, as the ritual custom was, to enter the Lord’s sanctuary and burn incense there.

And at the hour of incense the whole congregation was outside, praying.

Then there appeared to him the angel of the Lord, standing on the right of the altar of incense.

The sight disturbed Zechariah and he was overcome with fear.

But the angel said to him, ‘Zechariah, do not be afraid, your prayer has been heard.

Your wife Elizabeth is to bear you a son and you must name him John.

He will be your joy and delight and many will rejoice at his birth, for he will be great in the sight of the Lord; he must drink no wine, no strong drink.

Even from his mother’s womb he will be filled with the Holy Spirit, and he will bring back many of the sons of Israel to the Lord their God.

With the spirit and power of Elijah, he will go before him to turn the hearts of fathers towards their children and the disobedient back to the wisdom that the virtuous have, preparing for the Lord a people fit for him.’

These readings are for the day of the feast itself:

First reading Isaiah 49:1-6 ©

I will make you the light of the nations so that my salvation may reach to the ends of the earth

Islands, listen to me,

pay attention, remotest peoples.

The Lord called me before I was born,

from my mother’s womb he pronounced my name.

He made my mouth a sharp sword,

and hid me in the shadow of his hand.

He made me into a sharpened arrow,

and concealed me in his quiver.

He said to me, ‘You are my servant (Israel)

in whom I shall be glorified’;

while I was thinking, ‘I have toiled in vain,

I have exhausted myself for nothing’;

and all the while my cause was with the Lord,

my reward with my God.

I was honoured in the eyes of the Lord,

my God was my strength.

And now the Lord has spoken,

he who formed me in the womb to be his servant,

to bring Jacob back to him,

to gather Israel to him:

‘It is not enough for you to be my servant,

to restore the tribes of Jacob and bring back the survivors of Israel;

I will make you the light of the nations

so that my salvation may reach to the ends of the earth.’

Responsorial Psalm

Psalm 138(139):1-3,13-15 ©

I thank you for the wonder of my being.

O Lord, you search me and you know me,

you know my resting and my rising,

you discern my purpose from afar.

You mark when I walk or lie down,

all my ways lie open to you.

I thank you for the wonder of my being.

For it was you who created my being,

knit me together in my mother’s womb.

I thank you for the wonder of my being,

for the wonders of all your creation.

I thank you for the wonder of my being.

Already you knew my soul,

my body held no secret from you

when I was being fashioned in secret

and moulded in the depths of the earth.

I thank you for the wonder of my being.

Second reading Acts 13:22-26 ©

Jesus, whose coming was heralded by John

Paul said: ‘God deposed Saul and made David their king, of whom he approved in these words, “I have selected David son of Jesse, a man after my own heart, who will carry out my whole purpose.”

To keep his promise, God has raised up for Israel one of David’s descendants, Jesus, as Saviour, whose coming was heralded by John when he proclaimed a baptism of repentance for the whole people of Israel.

Before John ended his career he said, “I am not the one you imagine me to be; that one is coming after me and I am not fit to undo his sandal.”

‘My brothers, sons of Abraham’s race, and all you who fear God, this message of salvation is meant for you.’

Gospel Acclamation

cf.Lk1:76

Alleluia, alleluia!

As for you, little child, you shall be called

a prophet of God, the Most High.

You shall go ahead of the Lord

to prepare his ways before him.

Alleluia!

Gospel Luke 1:57-66,80 ©

'His name is John'

The time came for Elizabeth to have her child, and she gave birth to a son; and when her neighbours and relations heard that the Lord had shown her so great a kindness, they shared her joy.

Now on the eighth day they came to circumcise the child; they were going to call him Zechariah after his father, but his mother spoke up.

‘No,’ she said ‘he is to be called John.’

They said to her, ‘But no one in your family has that name’, and made signs to his father to find out what he wanted him called.

The father asked for a writing-tablet and wrote,

‘His name is John.’

And they were all astonished. At that instant his power of speech returned and he spoke and praised God.

All their neighbours were filled with awe and the whole affair was talked about throughout the hill country of Judaea.

All those who heard of it treasured it in their hearts.

‘What will this child turn out to be?’ they wondered.

And indeed the hand of the Lord was with him.

Meanwhile the child grew up and his spirit matured.

And he lived out in the wilderness until the day he appeared openly to Israel.

[victoriahyphen]

I’ve been thinking a lot about an exchange I had on social media a couple of years ago. I’d shared a video for a devise that was basically a tens unit designed for cramps. The people producing/marketing the device were specifically focused on endometriosis pain. One of my FB friends (I later learned for sure that she was pregnant at the time, though she had not shared that on fb. It was pretty obvious from her comment) got very argumentative about how this was something that doulas and midwives had been doing for a long time and that the traditional medical community was “stealing.” 

I was busy phd-ing at the time but I keep thinking about it because of late I’ve realized what bothered me about the whole exchange (and how it encapsulates what bothered me about some larger conversations in general). I am having trouble putting it to words, so bear with me, as this is in part an exercise in articulating this. 

Doulas and midwives usually have no contact with people (usually people with uteri or people who formerly had uteri)  experiencing involuntary childlessness. I get that they are focused in the realm of pregnancy and I’m not saying this to demand that they focus on non-pregnancy related issues, because that would like demanding that I focus on pregnancy rather than endometriosis or hysterectomies. But I think that this is something that people who swear by natural birth or alternatives to traditional medicine (sometimes expressed as “patriarchal medicine”) need to realize when they enter conversations with people who have reproductive medical conditions, people who can’t reproduce, etc. 

Random thoughts along this line:

1. Some people cannot explore alternatives to traditional medicine because they are too sick

2. Communities that focus on alternatives to traditional medicine/medical practice, specifically in name of “women’s health”* are usually focused around pregnancy and childbirth, and therefore, no you can’t be angry at someone who had a hysterectomy for not knowing about what doulas and midwives recommend because doulas and midwives don’t care about us.**

3. People experiencing reproductive illnesses/medical involuntary childlessness/hysterectomy are going to have and rely on traditional medicine more often because a) it’s really the only proven way to address the issues at hand (and also see #1) and b) because we don’t have networks of (usually) women that support you through endometriosis or hysterectomy the way we have networks of (usually) women to support you through birth.

4. This is part of a larger issue I have with the absolute dearth of any significant feminist conversation about medical involuntary childlessness, women who can’t have children, etc.

5. While Western Medicine has huge patriarchal origins and gynecology was founded at the extreme violation of WoC and we should never forget that, sometimes, in certain contexts, calling it “patriarchal medicine” comes off as a judgment of the person who is seeking medical care rather than medicine’s patriarchal biases themselves. 

Again, I’m trying to figure out what to do with these thoughts but I have this bouncing around in my head...

*This is incredibly cis-centric  

** I mean, maybe they care, but it’s outside of the scope of their practices, so it’s unlikely that they’d have professional conversations about this. 

[no-song-so-sweet]

An Open Letter to my Family, Re: My Womanhood

Dear various asshole family members,

You? You do not get to decide what makes me a woman. You get to shut the fuck up.

My hair, whatever length it may be, does not define my womanhood. Having it curl around my ears and never, ever touch my shoulder? Does not mean I am lesser. For your fucking information, I cut it short in a fit of panic and rage because to many people touched it. To many people pulled it. And a man twice my age that I didn’t know, a complete stranger, grabbed my braid one day, told me I was pretty, and didn’t let me go, and the only reason he didn’t actually force himself upon me was because I managed to knee him in his fucking balls.

This is a move I do not regret. And it is not something I should have to explain to you over Thanksgiving dinner when you tut over the fact that I cut my stupid hair. I don’t care how pretty you think it is long. No one will ever hold me back like that again.

The fact that I carry a canister of pepper spray in my purse does not concern you. I am not docile. I will never be docile. I have been catcalled on the street for years. Before I was even a teenager, men were yelling at me to smile, to look their way. Fuck them. I’ll carry a fucking taser if it makes me feel safer. Also? Stay the hell out of my purse. I did not give a single one of you permission to snoop through my shit.

You tell me to accept the catcalls. You tell me this is a compliment. You tell me, just like those men on the streets that I’d be prettier if I smiled more. Fuck that shit. I will scowl to my hearts content all the damn time, and I will be beautiful and dangerous and afraid of those men. My lack of smile does not make me any less of a woman.

You tell me to sit up straight, with my knees together, legs crossed at the ankle. My response is no. Just. No. I’m tired of being small. I’m tired of making sure that other people are comfortable. I’m tired of conforming to the needs of others. I refuse to be small any more. And guess what? I’m still a fucking woman.

You ask me why I joined the band, back when I was in middle school, when I was in high school. You pursed your lips tight at the sight of my french horn, asked me if I wanted to play flute instead.

Fact is, I hated every flute I knew, with the exception of the first chair. I thought she was pretty, with this mass of curls, and long tapered fingers. She was elegant.

Another fact: I fucking adored every guy on the brass line. They had so much more fun, they told raunchy jokes, had burping contests, and got into trouble once a week. I also tell raunchy jokes, and always have fun with a good buying contest. And while I am not a trouble maker, I support mischief, so long as no one gets seriously injured. The first time I got my heart broken, they rallied around me. Despite what you all may think, those idiots still keep in touch. They’re some of my best friends, and yes, they are all male. So what?

Fact: I have all of three female friends. You think there is something wrong with this. I keep my mouth shut because if you knew I was a lesbian, we’d have even more fucking problems.

But weren’t you ever afraid to speak to the people you liked? I do not understand women, despite being one of them. That’s okay though. I understand the important parts, that unspoken language, of tilts of heads, stiffing of posture. I may not understand how to talk to the girl I like, but I understand women. Maybe because I am one.

When I tell you I don’t want children? The appropriate response is “Oh that’s okay. Everyone has different wants and needs,” not “But you’d be such a great mother! Don’t you want emotional fulfilment?”

No. What I really fucking want is to not saddle a baby with my anxiety and depression. That shit’s harmful to kids, and I’m not prepared to handle it. Nope. No way. I’ll be childless and happy. I’ll be everyone’s vodka aunt, and accept the title of godmother all the time. And the fact that I refuse to push a small wailing boulder out of my vagina does not take away my womanhood.

The fact that I swear like a fucking sailor does not make me any less of a lady. The fact that I can cook and bake should not overshadow the fact that I can also fix my own car, and know my way around a toolbox. I am beautiful, and nothing you say about my weight will change that. I hated being a twig anyway. I dress how I want, match sneakers with sundresses, paint my nails bright purple, and my lips neon pink. Pull a brightly coloured  scarf over my hair on my sacred days because I follow Lady Hestia. Walk barefoot in the mud, twist wildflowers in my hair. Show off the hickeys I got from the woman I thought I loved, even though we’ve now decided that we’re better friends than lovers. I don't wear makeup, I love to play baseball, I love to ice skate, even when I fall, and snow and ice are suddenly all over my hair. None of this matters. None of it affects my womanhood.

Dear cousin of mine,

You are in your second year of middle school. you tell me wistfully when I show up to the family reunion wearing jeans that don’t hug my curves, and a hoodie I kiddnapped from my best friend when I went to visit him over break, that you want to grow up to be me.

The truth is, dear one, that I would love to give you so much. That I would give you all the fire in my very soul if I could. That would give you flint hard, icy gazes to protect your from all the people who would dare to touch you, the saccharine sweet words laced with poison I hand out like chocolate to our family. That I might teach you how to shield yourself from this world, which will try to kill you.

When you whisper to me, in a quick stolen moment, that you think your name might be Sonia, not Sam, that you’ve seen this really pretty girl in the lunchroom, and she’s so nice, and you think you might like like her, my heart breaks, because, my dear child, this life? It is not kind to women my love. It is not kind to me, and it will be worse for you.

I wish to give you all that I have that could possibly protect you, and keep you safe from harm, but I know I cannot simply give these things away. And so you will learn in time, just as I did.

But, little one, when they tell you that you are less of a woman, that you are not a woman at all, you roll your shoulders, lift your chin, and remember that you are a woman. When they call you names, when they shout slurs at you, know that you are better than they will ever be, that you are a lady, and that you can burn them all to the ground. And when you can bear no more of our blood relations, when you slip off the mask you wear, the one they call Sam, when you show them Sonia, know that you are the most beautiful woman in the whole world. Know that when they call you a boy, call you a man, tell you that you can never be a true girl, that they do not define your womanhood.

The only one who can, is you.

Signed,

The raging lesbian who loves Sonia very much, and believes the rest of you can go fuck yourselves.

[aubretia23]

A Ridiculous Idea Part 2

Title : A Ridiculous Idea

Chapter 2

DISCLAIMER : I do not own Naruto, its franchise or anything related to it. All recognisable characters, situations and premises are copyright of Masashi Kishimoto, Shueisha, Shonen Jump and Viz Media.

SPECIFIC DISCLAIMER : This fanfiction is a sequel to The Other Talk and its sequel The Other Other Talk. Both are fanfictions written by KuriQuinn and thus her intellectual property. I have taken permission from her to write and publish a sequel to them. Therefore I will try my best to stick to events and interpretations of characters according to her. The keyword  here being “try”.

Author Note : Thank you KuriQuinn for the permission. This is my second attempt at fanfiction. Also I am not KuriQuinn, so the writing style will be different. Please bear with me. English is not my native tongue. The variant of English used here is Indian. I have also used my own headcanons , so it might not be an exact sequel but whatever.

As long as you enjoy it, it does not matter.

Alright I wrote this before Episode 8 came out so I don’t think I can stick to canon anymore. This is a fanfic anyway. Also I thought of making this a five part series earlier but now it will probably be a three parter. Therefore, I am renaming the prologue as Chapter 1. This chapter is long and goes a bit in depth with the situation but I will try to steer it back to lightheartedness in the next one.

I don’t know about other countries but in India, marriage registration and weddings are not the same. There is a civil wedding and a legal marriage. If your marriage is registered, then you are legally married but a civil wedding is almost always happens alongside it. It gives societal legitimacy and acknowledgement by the family, the extended clan and the society. If you got married in a civil wedding but didn’t register yet, your wedding will be considered legally valid but it leaves you in a precarious situation if you ever have to prove your marital status especially if you don’t have photos or wedding guests or distant relatives to vouch for the wedding.

~~~~

A veil of whispers and murmurs descends upon the assembly. Naruto nods to Shizune who informs the clans’ leaders that the emergency meeting was over. As the last of the leaders file out, a handful of close and relevant people stay back. Shikamaru shuts the door of the hall in order to ensure complete privacy for what was to come next.

“This is utterly outrageous.” Koharu bites out furiously through her toothless mouth.

“The sole Uchiha scion and one of the only two Uzumaki scions cannot marry each other. They have to marry someone else in order to carry on their clan lineages. They are the clan leaders on top of that. Two clan leaders marrying each other is unprecedented. Seventh, you must track your son and your apprentice down. You must stop them before this sacrilege occurs.”

“They love each other. And they want to merge the two clans - the Uchiha and the Uzumaki - into one.” Naruto informs her tiredly.

After all, Himawari’s prodigious Byakugan prowess qualifies her for the leadership of the Hyuga. Even though he doesn’t want it for her, Himawari’s enthusiasm and closeness to her maternal clan has elevated her to the status of the unofficial Hyuga heiress who will succeed her still childless and unmarried aunt. Perhaps if he tries, Naruto can persuade her to carry on the Uzumaki lineage for the sake of the village but he knows that Himawari’s happiness lies in the Hyuga. Her smile is something he can die for to protect.

Koharu and Homura stare at him scandalised.

“Clans branching out is one thing, clans merging together is unheard of-” A laughter cuts off Homura.

Hanabi rolls down to the floor at this point, her stomach aching due to incessant laughter.

Kakashi, his eyes crinkling, grins behind his mask, cementing his status as the only one besides her in the entire hall who is amused at the situation.

“This is outrageous! There is no way that those two are getting away with this.”

Sasuke hisses at Hiashi’s thunderous declaration, his head stubbornly throbbing in pain.

“I had an entire wedding planned out for those two!” Ino wails out, sobbing. Her doting aunt tendencies were at their strongest for Sarada, despite her niece’s stubborn aversion to cheesy romances.

“Well, everyone knew that Boruto and Sarada were meant to be. I mean, everybody knew they were in love with each other since they were in diapers.” Iruka was met with sour looks from Naruto and Sakura. Sasuke shoots him a dirty glare while Hinata shuts her eyes and pinches the bridge of her nose in exasperation, her other arm wrapping around her middle consolingly.

Shino sighs at this. Chouji tries to nervously evade looking at the concerned foursome.

“It’s like it was just yesterday​ when they were twelve or thirteen. All blushy-blushy over each other and Boruto declaring that he will protect Sarada and support her as Hokage and what not.” Moegi reminisces, a bright grin slowly breaking out on her face. The new Ino-Shika-Cho sniggers at this.

“Yeah, we even have a bet going on who will realise their feelings first and who will confess first. With Naruto and Sasuke’s dense and oblivious genes being unfortunately dominant, nobody thought​ that it will amount to anything before they turned twenty or something.” Tsunade turns towards Shizune.

Naruto raises an eyebrow at this declaration.

“It is a village-wide bet.” Shizune admits shamefacedly.

“Forget that. They won’t be able to get married. They both are underage.” Temari brings everyone back to the point.

“Well, the law states that the marriageable age is sixteen. Although you need parental permission to get married before turning eighteen.” Shikamaru wants this meeting to be over as soon as possible. Perhaps a cup or two of really strong alcohol might just do him some good.

“Temari’s right. Once the two realise that they won’t be able to get married without your legal permission, they will come back on their own.” Sai tries to reassure his former teammates and Hinata.

“They won’t come back.” Hinata’s quiet statement can be heard over the babel.

“And why not?” is all a frowning Konohamaru manages with broken jaw.

“Because they have our written permission.” Sakura informs dryly.

The hall falls silent.

“What the hell, Sakura?! Why would you guys give them permission to get married while they are still underage? They could have easily waited till they both turned eighteen. That’s a little over an year away!” Ino screeches at her best friend.

“Sarada is pregnant.” Sasuke informs them darkly, the words coming out from a far away place. At least in Sasuke’s mind.

The assembly looks at Sasuke in utter silence.

“Who’s the fa-” Sai cuts himself off as he realises the utter stupidity of his question.

“When did this happen?” Temari demands.

“Well, Sarada is six weeks pregnant.” Naruto replies with a sigh.

The entire assembly stills at the implication of these words.

Two months ago, Uzumaki Boruto was sent on a highly dangerous S-ranked mission. Despite the support of the new triclan team, the mission took a dangerous turn when Kawaki got involved. Sarada and Mitsuki had to be sent in. Boruto completed his mission but Kawaki escaped. Not before fatally injuring the former, one which put him in a week long coma, ripped his vitals apart and nearly costed him his dojutsu and life. It was only due to the timely and combined medical intervention of Sarada, Mitsuki and Inojin that Boruto came out of this mission alive. The scar running down Boruto’s right eye is no longer angrily red but still serves as a reminder of the near-death experience.

Naruto looks at the third Sannin for an explanation. Mitsuki shrugs.

“Sarada was hysterical when Boruto went into coma. We had to knock her out to let her body rest a bit. We left them alone after Boruto woke up because all he would do at that point of time was to ask for Sarada. No one disturbed them after that. At least not for the night after he woke up.”

Mitsuki’s account fitted together with what the Uzumaki and Uchiha couples could glean out from their children after Sasuke calmed down enough from attempting to murder his student. The teenaged couple was reluctant to give out details but eventually under Hinata’s disappointed stare, the one which always made Sasuke feel as though he has kicked a puppy, they gave in.

Underneath what at first seemed to be immature and rebellious teenage dating and sex, and consequent irresponsibly accidental pregnancy, a different story emerged, albeit if only by a bit.

Boruto’s near-death experience had brought him and Sarada to terms with their deep-rooted feelings for each other. Their verbal confirmation of mutual love, trust and commitment was followed by a physical reaffirmation of their passion for each other. Undisturbed by their teammates and traumatised by their experience, the new couple forgot about everything except each other. Everything including something very important.

Contraception.

They had dated for a month after that under the guise of medical checkups, recuperative exercises and training, mostly because they knew their fathers would immediately deem their relationship to be inappropriate or immature or both, before one evening, Sarada began feeling nauseated at the smell of fried octopus while on a date. Boruto had used his dojutsu in order to figure out whether her chakra was off-balance or not. All he saw was a foreign chakra in her lower belly.

Sarada and Boruto were left staring at each other, frozen in shock, as the possible implication seeped in. After several pregnancy tests bought by Boruto’s henged shadow clones, Sarada confirmed her pregnancy.

After initial bafflement, a mild tantrum and some tears later, joy and laughter filled the otherwise empty Uchiha household. Boruto had proposed marriage to Sarada who answered it with pushing him into the nearest bedroom and getting down on her knees.

Unfortunately, the said bedroom belonged to her parents who were not supposed to be in the village for some time. The said parents had returned without a warning.

Once the Uchiha couple got over their initial trauma, they called a kangaroo meeting with their daughter’s boyfriend at the Ichiraku. The meeting ended with Sarada breaking Konohamaru’s jaw for his uninvited interference and Sakura being generally threatening. Boruto had not spoken a word since then and his back had begun to hurt due to rigidity. Sasuke’s death glares might have something to do with it.

When the news reached the Uzumaki couple, Hinata and Naruto were at a loss for words, embarrassment and bafflement being their default settings.

After accidently informing their parents about their pregnancy later that night at dinner at the Uzumaki residence, Sarada had stubbornly refused to back down after her father attempted to murder the father of her child. Sasuke’s irrational anger at that point was met with immature tantrums and comebacks from Sarada’s side. Which was enough to tire her out sooner that expected. Boruto had caught her before she could hit the floor.

His piercing blue eye met his mentor’s mismatched black and violet ones. For the first time in his life, Sasuke felt afraid of his student.

While Sakura checked up on her daughter, scanning her with Mystical Palms and asking her general questions regarding her health, pregnancy and sex life, Hinata had walked Himawari to the Hyuuga Compound where she would be spending the night. Kakashi stuck around hoping to dissipate tensions. Once they all gathered back in the Uzumaki living room, Boruto and Sarada sat down with their parents and Kakashi, hoping to come to a rational resolution.

Protectively wrapping his arms around her, Boruto explained rationally what Sarada was expressing emotionally.

That he and Sarada loved each other. Had done so for years.

That they were dating seriously. And sleeping together. And had no intentions of ever taking a break.

That they were going to become parents.

That their child is the proof of their love for each other.

That they wanted to get married.

That even without the baby, they would have gotten married the day Sarada turned eighteen.

That he and Sarada had enough money to establish a married life and family of their own. Being talented at a young age meant being sent on high ranking missions early irrespective of their nin rank which translated to a high income.

That all they wanted was love and support from both sets of their parents for their child and themselves.

And of course, being still underage, their permission to get married as soon as possible given the circumstances.

Sasuke had stormed out of the house at the end of this conversation. Sarada was reduced to tears while Boruto tried to console her.

Sakura was furious at this point. Whether it was at her husband or daughter or the situation itself was unknown. Possibly the first option because she stormed out of the Uzumaki residence as well after telling Sarada that she is going to put her father in his place.

Hinata and Naruto seemed bewildered even at this point. But soon, Naruto sat down to lecture Boruto on irresponsibility - general, sexual and marital. Hinata diced some fruits and along with a bowl of custard managed to draw Sarada into a conversation over them. Kakashi wandered off outside, hoping to catch his two former students before they damaged public property.

He soon found the couple at an all-night bar. Sasuke could have been mistaken for being passed out on Sakura’s lap after what seemed to be several bottles of very high grade sake.

Except he was sobbing quite audibly. The loss of his only beloved daughter to another man was just too much for him to bear.

Sakura was gently patting her husband’s head, her face decidedly softened since the entire drama began. As she caught Kakashi’s eye, she gently informed her husband about the onlooker. Sasuke immediately pulled himself up to sit straight, swaying a little, and glaring drunkenly at Kakashi, daring him silently to repeat this to Naruto. Kakashi merely smiled in amusement and joined them, ordering shochu for himself and umeshu for Sakura.

Half an hour later, they were joined by Naruto and Hinata. He was carrying a marriage contract. One with an underage permission clause attached to it.

Hinata informed Sakura as the latter poured out a cup of umeshu for the former that Boruto and Sarada had decided to spend the night together at a hotel. Sasuke made an attempt to bolt out of there but Sakura’s steady glare pinned him down.

Naruto broached out the subject of unifying the two clans. It was something unheard of before. Boruto and Sarada’s status as clan leaders easily disqualified each other as a marriage candidate for each other. But Boruto figured that if the two clans were merged into one, something that should not be very difficult granted the meagre number of both the Uchiha and the Uzumaki, he and Sarada, as the joint co-leaders of the new clan, could welcome their child without the explosive question of which clan did he or she belong to. The question of kekkei genkai was a different matter altogether, one which was dependent on sheer luck.

Ultimately, all four of the parents decided to sign over the contract. The reality of a grandchild was becoming more dominant over their children’s idiocy. The two to-be grandmothers began discussing the cuteness and gender of the unborn baby, while Naruto and Sasuke ended up having a chakraless fist fight after the former goaded the latter by saying that he will be the more favourite one out of the two grandfathers. Kakashi smiled in serene satisfaction.

Since the clock at the bar already read 3:43 AM, Hinata thought it would be best to just discreetly have it delivered to their children via one of Sasuke’s hawk summons. It would certainly cheer up both their children, Sarada more specifically to be honest. Half an hour later, they received a note from Boruto thanking them for everything.

Naruto announced that he would be heading to the Hokage’s office. Clan merging or whatever would need a good amount of legal paperwork.

Sasuke and Sakura decided to return to their home. Sasuke being wobbly on his feet had to be supported by Sakura. Hinata decided to go over to the Hyuga Compound, hoping to meet her father personally and inform him about this turn of events. Kakashi decided to stay back at the bar, surrounding himself with more alcohol and pulling out his orange book.

At 6:00 AM, Naruto sought out Shikamaru for advice on legal aspects of the merger.

At 7:30 AM, he called for an emergency meeting of clan leaders at 9:00 AM in which Boruto and Sarada’s upcoming nuptials would be announced. A private meeting with the Konoha Council was avoided, firstly because it was a private family matter, and secondly, because of the excessive high-handed nosiness of the two Elders. With all the legal paperwork set right, thanks to a disgruntled and unsettled Shikamaru and his genius brain, Naruto knew the two oldies could no longer interfere.

At 8:50 AM, he was presented a letter by a very calm and pleased Mitsuki.

It explained in Boruto’s rather neat handwriting that he and Sarada are eloping.

That they had registered their marriage at the Konoha Marriage Registration Office at 8:10 AM. The new Ino-Shika-Cho served as their three witnesses.

That he and Sarada intend to exchange vows somewhere alone and to have a long honeymoon as they know that they won’t get any alone time together once the baby was born.

That he hopes that they forgive them.

That they will write to them every week.

That they will be back before the due date because Sarada wants her mother to be the midwife.

And that they will have another wedding just for their parents and the rest of the village on their first wedding anniversary.

At 8:58 AM, a murderous Sasuke had his ribs broken by Sakura when they learnt about this. Hinata was informed discreetly by Shikamaru just prior to the start of the meeting. The look she sent in the direction of the village gates was spine-chilling.

Koharu is the first to gain back her footing.

“This is a sacrilege! What kind of an abomination would this child be?! Born of a half-breed Uchiha and a hybrid of Uzumaki and Hyuga? Seventh, you not only need to stop these two, separate them and forbid them from seeing each other ever again, but also annul this marriage.”

Homura agrees to this, “But first of all, Hokage, you must ensure that this monster of a child is not born. The bloodlines of Byakugan and Sharingan mixing into one being will yield no good.”

Everyone turns towards them in slow motion as the words sink. The room’s temperature drops by a good several degrees.

Sakura is the first to act in the defence of her child’s child. Homura is thrown out of the conference hall on the fourth floor of the Hokage office building, the glass window shattering on his head while on his path down.

Koharu has her chakra points blocked by an absolutely furious Hinata, her activated Byakugan ablaze with fury. Her pointed fingers threaten to damage her heart if the Elder moves even a little.

Naruto feels anger leaving his tensed shoulders as he nods to Shizune to pick up Koharu and send her to the hospital and on her way there, also pick up Homura if he is still alive even after having each and every bone shattered by Sakura’s punch. Sasuke’s broken ribs were the only thing which prevented him from going after the duo and ensuring their demise. The murderous intent of the rest of the gathering was ebbing was well.

The whole group of friends and extended honorary family was protective about the future Ninth Hokage and her bodyguard. Quite naturally, it was immediately and instinctively extended to their child.

A cool wave of exasperated silence and exhausted contemplation washes over the occupants of the hall.

Sai laughs out. “Well, I suppose this is karma. “

“For what?” Sasuke raises an eyebrow at him.

“For having a year long sexathlon of a honeymoon and giving birth to a secret baby about whom no one knew outside the village.” Ino trills in.

Sasuke groans out loud while general amusement at his expense ensues.

Everything will be fine, Naruto supposes. As his eyes meet Hinata’s, a smile blossoming on her face, Naruto feels lighters, happier, giddier.

A grandchild would be nice, he thinks. Yeah, it would be very nice.

“Well, if anything, all this will come back to bite them in the ass.” Sakura says lightly. A tremor of devilish amusement enters her voice. A dangerous smirk slowly snakes out on her increasingly gleeful face.

“What do you mean by that?” Hinata frowns.

“I found this out while I examined Sarada. I wanted to inform Boruto and Sarada about this after the meeting but since they have decided to behave irresponsibly and idiotically again, I suppose it will be cosmic punishment when they learn about this.”

“Learn about what? Is the baby and Sarada alright?” Sasuke asks.

“ You mean the babies.”

“Huh?” The entire group looks at her bewildered.

“Boruto and Sarada are going to have twins.” Sakura says happily.

Naruto feels a sense of dread entering him. Flashbacks of Boruto’s antics in childhood and admittedly his own come back to the fore.

Konoha is truly doomed, he thinks meekly.