#12 week fetus

[cheerfullycatholic]

Caption⬇️

From daily_fetus on Instagram

[cheapcheapfaker]

in case you were wondering why I’ve been a bit absent minded and sick lately. btw. it’s this guy.

[aux-squiggle]

Just found out there's a product called SneakPeek that has a 99-100% accuracy of telling you the sex of a fetus at 6 weeks (99% accurate @ 6w, 100% accurate @ 7w in a study).

This is fantastic because usually you find the gender with 100% certainty at 14-15 weeks via Scan, but that's a problem for me because abortion is banned after 12 weeks in Ireland, and it would cost nearly 2 bands to get an second trimester abortion in England. Also, an abortion that late is much tougher to go through than an abortion at 7 weeks.

So this is great because it means I can abort male fetuses for free, much earlier, in my home country instead of being prepared to drop 2k and take a flight each time I get pregnant.

Technically it doesn't ship outside of US but Irish ppl commonly get US sold goods through An Post which gives us fake US addresses then ships here.

Not sponsored btw if it wasn't obvious, I doubt SneakPeek would market well as a method to abort males lol

Daughter or an abortion 🙌🏾

[truth-has-a-liberal-bias]

But once the babies are here, the state provides little help.

When she got pregnant, Mayron Michelle Hollis was clinging to stability.

At 31, she was three years sober, after first getting introduced to drugs at 12. She had just had a baby three months earlier and was working to repair the damage that her addiction had caused her family.

The state of Tennessee had taken away three of her children, and she was fighting to keep her infant daughter, Zooey. Department of Children’s Services investigators had accused Mayron of endangering Zooey when she visited a vape store and left the baby in a car.

Her husband, Chris Hollis, was also in recovery.

The two worked in physically demanding jobs that paid just enough to cover rent, food and lawyers’ fees to fight the state for custody of Mayron’s children.

In the midst of the turmoil in July 2022, they learned Mayron was pregnant again. But this time, doctors warned she and her fetus might not survive.

The embryo had been implanted in scar tissue from her recent cesarean section. There was a high chance that the embryo could rupture, blowing open her uterus and killing her, or that she could bleed to death during delivery. The baby could come months early and face serious medical risks, or even die.

But the Supreme Court had just overturned Roe v. Wade, which guaranteed the right to abortion across the United States. By the time Mayron decided to end her pregnancy, Tennessee’s abortion ban — one of the nation’s strictest — had gone into effect.

The total ban made no explicit exceptions — not even to save the life of a pregnant patient. Any doctor who violated the ban could be charged with a felony.

Women with means could leave the state. But those like Mayron, with limited resources or lives entangled with the child welfare and criminal justice systems, would be the most likely to face caring for a child they weren’t prepared for.

And so, the same state that questioned Mayron’s fitness to care for her four children forced her to continue a pregnancy that risked her life to have a fifth, one that would require more intensive care than any of the others.

Tennessee already had some of the worst outcomes in the nation when measuring maternal health, infant mortality and child poverty. Lawmakers who paved the way for a new generation of post-Roe births did little to bolster the state’s meager safety net to support these babies and their families.

In December 2022, when Mayron was 26 weeks and two days pregnant, she was rushed to the hospital after she began bleeding so heavily that her husband slipped in her blood. An emergency surgery saved her life. Her daughter, Elayna, was born three months early.

Afterward, photographer Stacy Kranitz and reporter Kavitha Surana followed Mayron and her family for a year to chronicle what life truly looked like in a state whose political leaders say they are pro-life. [...]

[moody-alcoholic]

These Violent Delights

Chapter 12 - Revelations

Summary: Poly 141 x fem!reader, a/b/o alternate universe 5.2k words. The truth is coming out grab your popcorn.

CW: a/b/o alternative universe, a/b/o dynamics, typical a/b/o universe tropes (scenting, heats, scuffing), Pregnancy, talks about termination of pregnancy, abortion discussion, use of weapons, blackmail, mentions of bombs, all my homies hate Graves, language, angst, lots of crying - all hurt no comfort, mentions of past abuse, mentions of past SA, lots of guilt, mentions of suicide.

Previous - masterlist - next AO3

Enjoy <3

Tears are streaming down your face when John walks into the room. His eyes go wide and he strides over to you. You’re not even trying to hide your scent anymore. Your arms shake as you throw yourself around him, sobbing into his chest. 

“Hey, what is it?” he asks before looking back at Dr. Piper. She waits for a moment, seeing if you will calm down and tell him. 

“There’s no easy way to do this,” she starts, turning around and picking the test up. “She’s pregnant.” You hold your breath as you wait for John to take the news in. 

“She’s on birth control,” John says, shaking his head. You let out a sob. He breaks away from you and it makes your heart ache. 

“Yes she is,” Dr. Piper sighs. 

“Dr. Miller,” you breathe. 

“What?” Dr. Piper asks.

“He was giving me injections. Before my heat, for the hormone blocker,” you say between sobs. John looks at Dr. Piper.

“Why would he need to give you injections for Simon’s hormone blocker?” she says. You can hear anger rising in her voice. Dr. Piper doesn’t get angry, you’ve barely heard her raise her voice. You feel guilt hit you as you sniffle. John moves in front of you pulling your chin up to look at him. 

“Look at me,” he says, his voice low and commanding. You swallow the sob catching in your throat, looking in his eyes.

“You need to tell Dr. Montgomery everything Dr. Miller did to you.” You nod looking back down at your knees. You can hear the disappointment in his voice. His hands leave you again, and you feel like you’re drifting further away from him.

“What about the pregnancy?” John asks in a lower voice. Dr. Piper sighs. 

“We don’t even know if a pregnancy could even be viable. Her entire reproductive system has been changed due to the chemical, just like how you guys can all knot.” 

“So what do we do?” 

“I will order the medication for a medical termination. The fetus is only two weeks along. It can be terminated with medication.” You feel sick, your hand pressing on your abdomen. You don’t want a baby, not now. You’ve completed your job though, you’ve been a good omega. It’s your only goal, to birth more alphas and omegas.  

John lets out a long sigh as he moves away from you. Maybe he thinks you’re disgusting now. Maybe he doesn’t want to be with you again. You deserve this. Dr. Piper is right.  Why did you need injections for Simon’s hormone blocker? John turns back to look at you, his fists clenched, and dread comes over you. Maybe he’s going to hit you. You deserve that much. He turns to look at you, his hand coming up. 

You close your eyes preparing for the strike. 

His hand lands on your cheek, his thumb rubbing it. You open your eyes letting out the breath you’ve been holding. You look up in John’s eyes. He looks sad. He’s not going to hurt you; he’s never hurt you before. You swallow the lump in your throat. He lets his hand drop and heads for the door. 

“What are you going to do John?” Dr. Piper asks. 

“We’re going to find Dr. Miller,” he says, turning back quickly and then leaving the room.

John’s heart is thumping hard in his chest as he makes his way down the stairs. You’re pregnant. Clearly this is no accident. Dr. Montgomery seemingly already has her suspicions. Dr. Miller has been up to more than just forcing your heat.

“Everything alright sir? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Soap chuckles nudging Ghost. John walks over to them without saying a word. He stands for a few seconds then rests his hands on his hips. 

“Is this place clear?” he asks eventually. Everyone looks a little confused looking around each other.

“What do you mean?” Soap asks. 

“Bugs, is the place clear of bugs,” he says, trying to keep his voice steady. He can smell his own anger in the air. 

“Yeah it’s clear,” Gaz says, taking a step towards him. He can smell Gaz trying to calm him. John starts to pace, wondering how he can explain it, if he should tell them about the pregnancy. 

“What’s wrong John?” Laswell asks, standing up from the desk. 

“We need to know what Dr. Miller has done to her,” he says. He looks around at them all. He’s not going to tell them about the pregnancy, not yet. 

“Ghost, Soap, go back to his room, strip the place. I’ll stay with Laswell and Dr. Montgomery to find out whatever we can. Gaz, when the doctor’s done you’re to stick with the omega. From now on one of us will be with her at all times. Understood?” he says. The chorus of ‘yes sirs’ comes back to him as he looks round the room. Soap and Ghost leave. Hopefully they can find something. 

“What are we going to tell Shepherd?” Gaz asks, coming to stand next to him. 

“Let me worry about that. You focus on your job, which is making sure the omega never leaves your sight. Keep her in the barracks, I'll get someone to pick up dinner for you both,” Price says.

“Is she alright?” Gaz asks. John folds his arms looking over at him. He wants to tell him, the thought of it swimming around in his head. If not just to have someone else know. But the less people who know, the better.  

“When we know what he’s done to her we’ll have a better idea. She’s okay,” he says. Gaz nods and follows him over to Laswell. It’s not long before you’re coming down the steps with Dr. Montgomery behind you. Your face is still puffy but you’re not crying anymore. You walk straight over to him with the doctor's hands on your shoulders. You won’t meet his eyeline. You won’t even look at him. He can sense your guilt, let alone smell it.

Dr. Montgomery won’t protect your scent, it's not her job anymore. Gaz walks round and your head pops up to see him. Price can smell his nervousness. Gaz isn’t stupid, he knows somethings wrong but he doesn’t push anything, throwing his arm over your shoulders and turning to walk you to the exit.

“I can watch her,” Dr. Montgomery says. Price shakes his head.

“Need you to help us with Dr. Miller,” he says, gesturing for her to come over and sit with Laswell. Price watches you leave with Gaz. He can’t tell if he feels disappointed or mad. He’s not mad at you, he’s mad at himself. At Dr. Montgomery. They were all supposed to keep you safe and they failed. 

Now he has to deal with the consequences. John stands behind them as Laswell types on her laptop. She has access to the CIA’s database which should help make things easier. It doesn’t take her long to find out Conor Miller was a fake name. It came back to a man who was found dead, a suspected suicide. So they have the identity he took, but they still don’t have his name. 

It’s not long before Soap comes back with a laptop, he puts it down in front of Laswell.

“Found it hidden behind a wall panel,” he says. “LT’s still scrubbing the place.” 

Price nods as he looks over at Laswell opening the laptop. 

“How long do you think it’ll take to get in?” Soap asks. 

“Few hours to bruteforce it probably,” she sighs. Ghost walks through the door next slamming a notebook on the table. Dr. Montgomery picks it up, opening it to the first page, a piece of paper falls out. She picks it up and unfolds it. She reads it. Price moves over so he can get a better look.

“ Fuck, ” she says under her breath as she finishes reading. 

“What is it?” Soap asks. 

“I know who he is. Dr. Miles Ashford. Hale's personal bitch.” Dr. Montgomary stands up pushing her chair back. Laswell types the new name into her program.

“How did you not recognize him?” Ghost asks. 

“He’s the perfect plant. I think over all the years I worked for Hale, I’ve only ever seen him once, maybe twice.” She runs her hand through her hair. “He would be Hale’s man on the surface taking care of his estate so Hale could stay in the bunker for months at a time.” 

“So he and Hale were close?” Soap asks.

“I guess so. Hale didn’t trust anyone but he kept Ashford around, even when it turned out he was an alpha. I’m pretty sure he’s the only alpha he kept alive.” She explains. John is about to open his mouth to speak when the door to the lab crashes open.

“What the hell is going on!?” Shepherd shouts as she strides across the room over to them. 

Shit.

“Price, I let you do your own thing and now I'm learning you’re tearing the base apart?” he asks, stopping in front of Price.

“We have a situation, and we’re investigating,” Price says, standing his ground.

“And when were you planning on telling me what’s going on?” 

“When we had more concrete information,” Price responds. Laswell stands up from her chair to come to stand next to him. 

“What’s happening then?” he asks.

“The omega was attacked. It turns out Professor Hale planted a scientist,” John explains.

“Attacked how?” Shepherd asks. 

“She was injected with a drug that forced her heat,” Dr. Montgomery explains. Shepherd crosses his arms as he takes in the information. 

“Is she okay?” he asks.

“She’s okay, she-” 

“She’s pregnant,” John interrupts her. There’s silence in the room. John keeps his focus on Shepherd. He clears his throat. 

“It was my understanding she was on birth control.” 

“She is. I suspect this has been going on for a while and someone has given her contraceptive suppressants,” Dr. Montgomery says. It makes the hairs on the back of Price’s neck stand up. This has been going on for a while. You never said anything, and they never caught it. Now look at the mess they’re in. 

“We have a name. Dr. Miles Ashford. He’s Hale’s personal assistant. He stole an identity, that’s how he managed to stay under the radar. According to Dr. Montgomery, he would mostly work above ground outside of the lab. Hence the reason no one recognized him,” Laswell explains. “I have put it all in the report.” 

“Well, I assume plans have already been made to deal with this?” he asks. Dr. Montgomery nods. “How could this happen? I thought you ran a pretty tight ship in this lab. Now you’re saying Professor Hale managed to plant someone in here?” 

“You were the one who set out the rules, I followed. It’s not exactly the type of work someone wants in their resume, the whole thing is based on trust,” Dr. Montgomery says. John can hear the spite in her voice. 

“Where is he now?” Shepherd asks.

“We assume back with Hale,” John says. “He went MIA a few days ago.”

“You’ve put all this in the report?” he asks, looking at Laswell.

“Of course. We’re still working on gathering all the information,” she says.

“I’ll get Graves to send out a search party, maybe they can find something,” Shepherd says. John nods. “When will the report be done?” 

“By the end of the day I’ll send what we have,” Laswell says. Shepherd puts his arms back down at his side, and he looks round the room. 

“I’ll set up a meeting for tomorrow morning.” He nods at John then turns, heading to leave. As soon as the door is shut behind him John turns around, everyone’s eyes on him. 

“She’s pregnant?” Soap asks first. John nods.

“What’s going to happen?” Ghost asks next, his arms crossed. 

“Termination. We don’t know if the pregnancy is even really viable,” Dr. Montgomery says.

“What does she think?” Soap asks. There’s silence again.  

“She’s scared, confused. She feels guilty,” Dr. Montgomery says. There’s an edge of something in her voice. She sounds almost annoyed. John can see Ghost’s eyes burning into her, he has that look in his eyes. The one he gets when he doesn’t trust someone. Price will have to talk to him later. 

“We’re all to blame here. We all let her down. Now it’s our job to fix it. Then we go after Hale,” John says. Ghost’s eyes move back to John. John nods at him.

It’s going to be okay. Keep your head straight. 

Ghost sighs, blinking then turning to Laswell.

Fine.

John looks back at Dr. Montgomery. 

“Let’s get back to work,” he says, crossing his arms and watching everyone move. Soap and Ghost leave again slamming the door behind them. John pinches the bridge of his nose. It’s going to be a long day. 

Johnny switched with Kyle a few hours later. Kate had tried to show them how Kyle connected the cameras and microphones up so they could decode them but it was like trying to teach an old dog new tricks. After a while she got frustrated and John sent for Kyle. 

“How is she?” Piper asks.

“Sleeping,” Kyle says, going over to help John. That’s good, you need to rest after your heat. As long as you’re resting, you’re calm. 

Kyle seems to have a knack for computers, and he knows his way around them. He managed to pull some audio files from the microphones he started decoding yesterday. Nothing of use though, just generic conversations. It could take days to decode the rest and go through them. 

Kate managed to get into Ashford’s laptop quicker than she thought. Piper had been sat down going through everything, mainly just research on things she had asked him to work on. She was working her way through the documents from the oldest first. She straightens up in the chair as she reads through a document dated before your heat. 

“ Shit, ” she says reading the document. It confirms what she already suspected: contraceptive suppressants. She knew deep down this was always Hale’s plan. To have a ‘pure’ omega. He wanted to get you pregnant so you could give birth to what Hale considered a ‘purebred’ omega. Guess he didn’t care if it was him who got you pregnant or not. 

The only reason you’re on birth control in the first place was because he would invite his friends to fuck you while you were in heat. Piper slams the lid of the laptop down, getting up and going into her office, slamming the door behind her. 

She’s angry but she shouldn’t be. This is her fault. She should have known, she should have been paying closer attention. There’s a knock on the door. 

She swallows the tears, wiping her eyes. She doesn’t deserve to cry. The only one who’s suffered here is you. It’s always you who suffers. She clears her throat and opens the door.  

“Found something?” John asks. She nods, standing to the side so he can walk in. She closes the door behind her. 

“He was giving her contraceptive suppressants,” she sighs, managing to keep her voice steady. 

“Any long term effects?” he asks. 

“No, it should be passed through her system already,” she says.

“Anything else?” he asks. She shakes her head; she hasn’t found anything yet. He sighs, nodding.

“I’m sorry I let this happen,” she says. Now is the time to apologize. 

“It’s not just your fault. She’s our responsibility too.” 

“I should have known not to trust any alpha that was still alive. It’s so obvious. Hale made a habit of killing alphas,” she sighs. 

“Yeah well hindsight is 20/20. You can’t blame yourself,” he says. She looks up at him. “You’re helping now, you’re fixing your mistakes, and that's what matters.” 

“You can be angry,” she says. He smiles.

“You’re not solely to blame. You can’t take it all on your shoulders. We’re going to get through this. We need to work together,” he says, taking a step towards her. 

“She’s never going to be safe John, not until Hale is dead.” 

“I know. We’re going to get him. I promise,” he says. She smiles; she believes him. 

“Chin up. She’s going to need your support. She’s going to need you more than ever over the next few days.” 

“You’re her pack, she will always need you more than me.” 

“Which is why it’s important we work together.” He pats her shoulder and she smiles at him. 

“Keep looking. Let me know if you find anything else,” he says, leaving the room. She lets out a breath as she’s left alone. She knows he’s right, but it’s not going to change her mind though. She’s always going to blame herself.

Piper is alone in her lab for the first time in what feels like forever. She sits down at her desk. Her computer is gone. John had Kyle search it. She had nothing to hide, so it didn't take him long to clear all the computers in the lab. It was only Dr. Ashford’s hidden laptop that had anything. 

John told her she should come and eat with them. She’s not hungry though. They said they were done for the day but she can’t relax yet. She just needs a few minutes alone. She should have never trusted anyone. She should have known something was up. Dr. Ashford really was the perfect person for Hale to slip in. She should have known something was wrong when an alpha came forward. 

She remembers the culling, remembers you being forced to watch. The smell of blood in the air, your fear, the nightmares. It went on for weeks, months. Hale killed them all, apart from Ashford. He needed someone on the ground. According to Kate the person who’s identity he took had a family, wife, and kids. His death was ruled a suicide, but they all knew better now. 

She sighs, letting the guilt eat at her. She put your life at risk and she didn’t even know it. They don’t even know what he had been up to other than the contraceptive blocker. She gave you a full check and couldn’t find anything. She is just hoping it's nothing too serious, and now with you being watched 24/7 and Dr. Ashford presumably with Hale, you should be safe. 

She shakes her head leaning back in her chair looking up at the ceiling. You’re never going to be safe until Hale is dead.

She’s not sure what is going to happen next. She hasn’t been privy to John’s plan. All she knows is they’re stuck here for now. General Shepherd seemed to understand the gravity of the situation but he blamed John. It’s her fault too. She has to take some of the blame. Commander Graves has been busy, so he hasn’t been around which is good because you’re scared of him. The calmer they keep you, the better. 

The sound of the door opening makes her jump. She looks out her open office door, and she can smell alpha in the air. She looks at the time. It’s late and she smiles. It must be Simon. She could use a chat with him right now, even if he does seem mad at her. She doesn’t care if he just wants to remind her how much of a horrible person she is. She could use his company. 

Suddenly, she sits up straight in her chair, the hairs standing up on the back of her neck. Simon wouldn’t have let the door slam, and she wouldn’t be able to smell Simon. He hides his scent so well. She stands up as the figure walks into her doorway.

“Don’t move,” Ashford says, aiming a pistol at her. She holds her hands up, lowering back down into her chair. His alpha is strong in the air. Fear too. He’s not used to this. 

“I could scream. People would come running,” she says letting the adrenaline fill her with confidence.

“Then both you and the omega would be dead,” he says walking into her office, closing the door behind him. She swallows the lump away. She can’t let him know she’s scared. She has to use everything to her advantage.  

“What are you doing here? I thought you would have been back with Hale by now,” she says. His hand is shaking slightly. He’s not comfortable with a weapon in his hands, he doesn’t look comfortable doing this at all. Maybe she can use that to her advantage. 

“I can’t leave without the omega,” he says. 

“Right, well I’ll just go get her then,” Piper says, throwing her hands up and standing up.

“Sit down,” he says, his voice louder this time, more commanding. His alpha is stronger, the ground after rain and blood, just like the Professor. Iron thick in the air, her nostrils flare as she breathes it in. She always associated it with blood. It makes the hairs stand up on the back of her neck and she sits back down. 

“You’re going to bring her,” he says as a matter of fact. Piper scoffs, shaking her head. 

“Why do you think I would do that?” she asks, crossing her arms. 

“I assume you figured out about the suppressants, the drugging?” he asks. She nods, where was this going?

“Well, there’s a tracker in her neck,” he says, watching her face for a reaction. She keeps her expression neutral. She doesn’t want to give him anything. She feels sick. Of course Hale would find a way to get a tracker in you. Yet another way she let you down. She swallows the guilt away. She can’t let him know what she thinks. 

“You have 24 hours to get her. There’s a truck, parked in the lot. It’s the only one with a yellow stripe on the back left tire. The door will open with the keys under the driver's seat. Drive out the west exit, and tell the guard you have a special transport for Ashford, they’ll let you through. Drive 2 miles west until you hit a bent stop sign. Stop at the sign and get into the passenger seat. I’ll meet you there,” he says. She looks at him confused, she shakes her head.

“You’re crazy, seriously fucked up if you think I’m helping you,” she spits, leaning forward in her chair. 

“Look, I didn’t expect you to help. In addition to the tracker there’s a bomb in her hip,” he says, shrugging. Piper’s holding her breath. She can’t help it, nerves slip through. He's lying, he has to be.

“If you tell anyone or fail to follow the instructions, then I'll set it off.” 

“You’d kill her, and what would that achieve? Throw away all of Hale’s work for nothing.” 

“I know I won’t ever have to do it. I know you’re going to follow the instructions and bring her,” he says smiling. It makes her feel sick. He has to be lying, for your sake he has to be. 

“What makes you think I’m going to help you?” she says, sighing and shaking her head.

“Because you love her, and I don’t think you want to see her harmed,”  he says, the smile still on his face. He’s not wrong, but bringing you back to Hale, it would be a death sentence. He might as well kill you. 

“How about you take the rest of the night to think about it. You have until this time tomorrow.” 

“What if I just tell Captain Price, or General Shepherd about this?” 

“You found all the cameras in the lab right?” he asks.

“Maybe.” 

“There are others, ones you’ll probably never find. Besides, she has the tracker in her, we’ll know where she is at all times. Oh and the people paying Shadow Company? Professor Hale is footing half the bill. It’s probably best if you follow the instructions,” he sighs. She can tell he wants to get out of here. 

Hale is paying Shadow Company. That's how he managed to get back in the base. He’s starting to get fidgety. Maybe she can stall him, keep him here until someone comes looking for her.

“Why are you telling me all this? Why not just kill me? Get the omega yourself?” She asks. 

“And go up against her pack? They’ll tear me to shreds. They trust you, and she trusts you. She’ll follow you to the ends of the earth. Of course you can ignore the instructions and she’ll die. You can tell them and she’ll die. It’s your choice,” he says, shrugging. Not much of a choice. 

“What about me?” she asks. 

“I don’t know, and I don’t care. I'm sure Professor Hale is looking forward to seeing you again though. He asked for you alive,” he says backing up to the door. He wants to leave. She can’t let him.

“How did you even get back in here? There are soldiers everywhere.” Fuck. He already explained this. She’s panicking trying to stall him.

“Have you not been listening?” he laughs. “They work for Hale! I’m on a first name basis with half the staff here.” 

“Why not just get Shadow Company to take her then?” she asks. He sighs like he’s getting bored of her questions.

“I’d rather skip the bloodshed. Graves too, he cares about his company's image.” 

“You really are a horrible person,” she says as he opens the door without taking his weapon off her.

“I’ll see you tomorrow. Remember, yellow mark on the wheel, bent stop sign.” He smiles walking out the door. She sits there for a second, not quite believing what just happened. 

Move! 

She springs up out of the seat. She should chase him. He only has a pistol. She’s sprinting out the door turning to the exit of the lab. It’s dark and starting to rain as she frantically looks around. It’s like he’s vanished into thin air. 

She’s failed again. 

She wants to scream. Instead she balls her hands into fists letting her nails dig into her hand. She looks around for any kind of movement, but there are so many buildings, he could have easily slipped into any of them. She should tell John. He’d start a search and probably find him before he had a chance to leave. 

She can’t though. She remembers the bomb inside you. She wishes it was fake and he was bluffing. She remembers Hale working on that technology; he had managed to get it to the size of a pill you could swallow. There were a lot of gruesome deaths from that. 

She should have fought him. He only had a pistol. She should have risked it.  

If she died, he wouldn’t be able to get to the omega. Your pack would keep you safe.

Stupid. Pathetic. She’s let you down again.

She walks back into the lab. There’s a tracker in your neck. A bomb in your hip. Piper goes into her office, closing the door behind her and sinking to the ground. Her body is shaking now as the adrenaline wears off. 

She can’t let you die. She doesn’t have a choice. She sobs into her hands. 

She just hopes you’ll forgive her.

It’s early in the morning when Dr. Piper wakes you by shaking your shoulder. You blink awake. It’s only just turning light out. 

“Morning,” she says. She looks distracted by something. She’s never woken you like this before. You smile at her sitting up. She goes to pick up your slippers. 

“Come on, I need to check something,” she says. You nod, pulling your slippers on as you follow her out the room. She seems nervous, like she’s in a rush. It must be something important. The sun is just coming up, the fog settling across the fields and the tops of the trees. You like that. You breathe in the fresh scent of pine before you get into the lab. 

The place seems like it’s even more of a mess than you remember. You follow her straight upstairs. The only room that seems to be in order is the medical room. There’s a new machine in here now. 

“Hop up on the bed,” she says, sitting down on a stool and going over to the machine. You nod, getting up on the bed and laying back. You watch as Dr. Piper moves closer to you. She seems fidgety, and it's making you nervous. 

“What’s that for?” you ask as she pulls your shirt up to your chest. 

“Ultrasound. It lets me see inside you,” she says, keeping her answer short. 

“So you can see the—” You don’t know what to say, fetus? Baby sounds wrong. According to Dr. Piper it’s no bigger than a seed. Pregnancies move quicker than normal for omegas. If you were to keep it, you would only be waiting around 4 months.  

“It’s only a week or so along, so there won’t be much to see,” she says. You nod, watching her fiddle with the machine. She squirts something on your skin. It's cold and it makes you gasp. 

“Sorry,” she says before reaching over and bringing some kind of weird looking scanner to your abdomen. You expect it to hurt but it doesn't. Dr. Piper looks focused on the screen you can’t see, frowning as she presses buttons now and then. She stays silent moving the device round your lower body. 

“Can you see it?” you ask after a few seconds of silence. She looks back at you for a second, she nods. 

“Can I see it?” you ask. She shakes her head.

“There’s not much to see, I’m checking everything is in order before the termination.” You sigh, nodding. You don’t want a baby right now, and you know John definitely doesn’t. It’s no one's fault, only Dr. Miller—well Dr. Anderson—and he’s gone now. You still didn’t understand who he was. You’d never met him. You didn’t even know Professor Hale had an assistant. She moves the device around to your hips looking up your sides before finishing up on your stomach. 

She sighs, putting the scanner back in its slot and looking over at you smiling. You smile back sitting up as she wipes the gel off your stomach. 

“Does everything look good?” you ask, pulling your shirt back down. She doesn’t say anything, just pushes the ultrasound machine away before standing up off the chair. 

“Do you trust me?” she asks suddenly. You look at her confused as you get off the bed. 

“Of course I trust you,” you say. You can smell her scent calming you in the air. It makes you relax but you can tell there is something going on. Hairs stand up on the back of your neck as she takes a step closer to you.

“What’s going on?” you ask. “Is there something wrong?” Your hands press on your stomach. She shakes her head, one of her hands landing on your shoulder. 

“You’re going to have to be brave okay?” 

You nod. You’re not sure why suddenly fear rises in you. She pulls you into her arms. You can smell her. She smells good, safe. Of course you trust her. You close your eyes, hugging her back.

It happens quickly her cold hand moves up to the back of your neck, before you can react she digs her nails into the sensitive skin. You yelp as pain shoots down your spine. Your hands fly up instinctively to pull her hand away but she squeezes tighter. You feel like you can’t breathe. You won’t have long left, a few seconds maybe. 

“Why?” leaves your lips your own voice sounding foreign in your ears. 

“I’m so sorry,” she says. You see tears running down her face. Your vision goes fuzzy, and your body goes limp. You try to hold on but you can't. The last thing you remember is Dr. Piper lowering you to the floor.

Next Dividers by Plum98 & gild-ui Beta reader and editor - rememberwren

[farfromstrange]

To my American mutuals.

To those of you who voted Blue and spent the entire election in a state of fear, fearing this would happen, hoping that it wouldn’t, and now feel like their world is falling apart.

To those of you who were hoping the next person in power would be someone determined to protect your rights—your reproductive rights, your rights to love whoever you want, your rights to marry the one you love, your rights to get gender affirming care, your rights to books, your rights to education, your rights to exist, your rights to flee from war to another country (this particular country) without being deported, your human rights.

To those of you who have been fighting and casting their voice not just for your country but the whole world.

I am so sorry.

I know you must be crushed right now. I know it must be terrifying. As a woman, I am thinking of you. I am hoping for you. If any of you need to talk or just scream into the void, or even cry on someone’s virtual shoulder, my inbox is open. If you have anything you want to share on anon, like resources or whatnot and you don’t know how to share or you can’t, share them with me and I will post them here. It’s important that you stick together now. That you don’t give up. I believe in you.

My heart bleeds for you.

And in light of today’s events, I will not be posting anything else today.

(More under the cut.)

For my fellow women: If (or when) the policies proposed by the winning party are put into effect; if a nationwide abortion ban does happen; if you’re a woman in need of life-saving healthcare, I have a very small apartment in a country where abortions are legal up to 12 weeks after a brief consultation—which is available in English if you go to the right place, and longer if something is wrong with either you or the fetus—and I’d offer you shelter and help in any way I can to get you the healthcare you need. I’m aware this is only an option for those with the financial means. For those without, I would suggest you look up planned parenthood and check their resources.

The same goes for other medical procedures (gender affirming care, for example) that might not be possible for you at some point during the next four years. I am here to help in any way I can.

I’m sorry.

- Lisa

[secularprolifeconspectus]

Footage of a 12-week fetus reacting to the lethal injection during a selective reduction abortion.

Selective reduction means one or more fetuses from a set of multiple fetuses is killed in utero. The other twins are left to grow while their sibling's body is "digested" (decays/reabsorbed). This is a common practice in IVF.

This footage (and more like it) is available publicly on YouTube from doctors in Asia.

Narration by flower.fetus.416

[wolfjessedragon]

Based on @liliacamethyst Webs of series

Webs of What if

Part 1- Webs of Forgiveness

“Miguel, we have a major issue in Sector 12! The anomalies...” she starts, then catches sight of Sunny’s tear-streaked face. “Oh, am I interrupting something?” Miguel was about to respond when he caught a glimpse of Sunny. Her eyes were bloodshot and teary, a vivid reflection of the weight she was carrying within. Time seemed to stand still as Miguel's gaze locked with hers, capturing the silent plea hidden behind those teary orbs.

In that moment fate offered Miguel a choice….

Miguel: *sigh* Yeah just give us a couple minutes.

Jessica: Alright, I’ll see what we can do. *heads out*

Miguel: Okay say what you- *he sees that she’s trembling at that his gaze softens a bit* Is every-

Sunny: I’m pregnant

Miguel: ……What?

Sunny: I just found out a few days ago, had every test done to make sure, and they were all positive. I am pregnant, with your baby.

*Suddenly the monitors start going off like crazy, Miguel still in shock, Sunny looks to see it’s a symbiote variant.*

Sunny: They need you with them, go.

Miguel: I- I-

Sunny: Go!

Miguel: *about to go out the door then turns back to Sunny* Just stay in here, we can talk more about it after I get this under control, okay?

Sunny: Okay *gives a reassuring smile*

Miguel: *gives her a quick kiss then runs*

After the breach was taken care of…

Miguel: *Gets back into his office, pretty beat up, and Sunny comes to help him.* I’m fi-

Sunny: Save it *She props him on his desk chair and starts nursing his wounds.*

Miguel: *Just watches, a million thoughts going through his head. Despite the many voices telling him that this shouldn’t be happening. That what he and Sunny have was nothing but a way to release a cardinal urge and that the fetus growing was a stupid consequence, he couldn’t convince himself of that…*

Sunny: *As she finishes the last stitch she looks at Miguel who is just staring at her abdomen.* I’m roughly at nine weeks, give or take. *Unsure of what else to say, she cautiously takes Miguel’s free hand and places it on her abdomen.*

Miguel: *In that moment all forms of doubt silenced. As his hand rested on her abdomen he couldn’t help but smile a little as he thought about the tiny life growing in there.*

Sunny: *inhale* Do you want to be part of this? *Miguel looks up at her but she cuts him off.* Look with or without you, I’m doing this. You can’t change my mind on that. If I have to raise this baby on my own I’ll do just that. I just thought you should know and I should give you that choice because… I care a lot about you Miguel. Like a lot. And I- I- *tears started welling up in her eyes as she struggled to find the words*

Miguel: *gently caresses her face and looks into her eyes reassuringly, he sighs* I want to be part of this

Sunny: What?

Miguel: I want to be involved… *He gently pulls her in closer* I- I care a lot about you too *His hand never leaves her abdomen.*

Sunny: Y-you really mean it?

Miguel: Yes

Sunny: *passionately kisses him*

Miguel: *doesn’t pull back instead wraps his arms around her*

Later in Miguel’s apartment..

Sunny: *Lies there, completely naked, in his bed, Miguel’s arms gently wrapped around her with one of his hands caressing her abdomen as they spoon.*

Miguel: *Plants soft kisses along her face and neck as he holds her even closer.* Te amo Soleada..

Sunny: *Turns her head to him and smiles softly with tears rolling out of her eyes* I love you too Miguel..

*They kiss and soon fall asleep while embracing one another.*

The next morning…

Sunny: *When she woke up rather than the coldness of her alone in bed again, she felt warmth. A sleeping Miguel was still holding her close to him. She tried to move only to feel Miguel’s grip to gently tighten around her. She couldn’t help but smile as she closed her eyes again.*

Miguel: *Wakes up and looks at seemingly still asleep Sunny. Careful not to wake her he leans to her abdomen and kisses it.* Hi little one, this is your dad. I don’t know if you can really hear me right now, I like to think you can. Anyway, I just wanted to let you know that although you’re just the size of a kumquat right now, I already love you so much…. You and your mom are the best things to happen to me in a long time. *As if the floodgates opened he starts crying. Tears of regret and of happiness. He catches his breath as her hand gently caresses his face.*

Sunny: *She smiles softly at him and places a peck on his lips.* Good morning *She whispers as she wipes away a tear.*

Miguel: *He blushes and hides his face in her chests then mumbles* Buena

Sunny: *giggles and hugs him*

A bit later…

Miguel: Sorry I don’t have much besides cereal, I’d make you something else but I believe me when I say I’m sparing you.

Sunny: *giggles* You can’t be that bad at cooking

Miguel: The pots and pans I had destroyed over the years would say otherwise. *chuckles*

Sunny: *chuckles* It’s alright Miguel, cereal is more than alright. *Eats and notices Miguel just staring at her* What?

Miguel: Oh nothing *Liar. He notices she has the pregnancy glow, and doesn’t want to admit that he thinks she’s beautiful.* So… does anyone else know?

Sunny: Just Peter B. Parker

Miguel: *groans* Out of all-

Sunny: Hey, he’s my best friend, practically my brother. And he only knows that I’m pregnant, not about you being the father. And honestly you should thank him.

Miguel: Thank him?

Sunny: Had he not said “Maybe you should reconsider telling the father.” I wouldn’t have told you at all.

Miguel: ….What?

Sunny: You heard me

Miguel: I- *At that moment Miguel remembered the fact that this was their first morning together. That after every night they were together he’d leave her before the first ray of daylight and she’d have to wake up alone. How throughout the day he’d hardly look or talk to her. Then of course there was yesterday, and how he almost threw it all away. He took her, his companion in the darkness, the woman now carrying his unborn child, his Soleada, for granted.*

Sunny: Miguel?

Miguel: …I’m sorry

Sunny: What?

Miguel: I’m sorry for all the times that I made you feel… alone.

Sunny: *lays a hand on her abdomen and grasps one of Miguel’s hands with the other*

[Authors Note: Hi everyone, so this is the first part of a what if series, warning lots of fluff and angst ahead. I urge y’all to check out the original series by @liliacamethyst she is an amazing writer and hers is pretty groundbreaking. Also sorry not sorry for the drastic differences in formatting, I just write better in script style. I still hope y’all enjoy it. Anyways have a wonderful day and see y’all in part two.]

[Also please feel free to comment and stuff, I love reading y’all feedback.]

[allthebrazilianpolitics]

Thousands of Brazilians march against bill that equates abortion to homicide

Thousands of Brazilians took to the streets in São Paulo and Rio de Janeiro to protest proposed legislation that equates abortion with homicide and restricts legal abortion to 22 weeks of gestation, including in cases of rape. The proposal was approved last week for urgent discussion in the Chamber of Deputies, Brazil’s lower house.

According to Brazilian law, abortion is currently legal in three circumstances: cases of rape, when the mother’s life is at risk, or when the fetus is anencephalic. The proposed bill aims to limit the period for these abortions to 22 weeks, whereas the current law allows them at any stage of pregnancy.

If an abortion occurs after this 22-week period, the woman could be prosecuted and convicted of murder, with potential sentences ranging from six to 20 years in prison. The crime of rape in Brazil carries a sentence of six to 12 years. This means that a woman convicted of homicide for an abortion — even in rape cases — could receive nearly twice the sentence of the rapist.

The proposal sparked a massive backlash, mainly on social media, but also with protestors gathering in the streets. Social movements and NGOs defending women’s rights came together and launched the “children are not mothers” campaign, with a petition to put pressure on congressmen, which already has more than 343,000 signatures.

Continue reading.

[virgoanmaenad]

Every study I read on abortion done later in pregnancy and the people who get them, the conclusion is always the same: We need better and more free access to abortion at all stages of pregnancy, especially in the first trimester.

There are two reasons people get abortions at or after 24 weeks: Either they couldn’t get an abortion earlier because of insurmountable obstacles (payment, laws, judgement, etc.) or because they fully intended to stay pregnant but scans show there’s something wrong with the fetus and an abortion is the safest and best way to handle it.

The best way to lower third-trimester abortions is make abortion easier to access in the first 12 weeks of pregnancy, not harder. Aside from that, scientific advancements in detecting fetal abnormalities earlier are the only other way to prevent an abortion later in pregnancy.

[pidgwin]

The treatment for a missed miscarriage, a miscarriage where the fetus has died but the body hasn’t realised, is abortion. Either through surgery or medication. 

I was told at my 12 week ultrasound that my baby had died 4 weeks before. I have dreamed of becoming a parent for my whole life. Those few weeks I was pregnant were the happiest of my life but the second I knew my baby had died, I felt like the living embodiment of death. I felt like a walking coffin, distinctly inhuman. Dirty down to my very soul.

I was desperate to get the beautiful child I had wished for so dearly out of my body. The 24 hours between my ultrasound and being given abortion medication were some of the hardest of my life. Abortion is healthcare. I cannot even imagine being forced to carry my baby for another moment. I also can’t imagine being forced to carry a fetus, which you do not wish to. To take that right away is disgusting and demonstrates how truly little these people know about the reality of reproductive healthcare. Pro choice always.

[srebrnafh]

Today and tomorrow our Parliament is discussing reproductive rights.

Currently, in Poland, abortion is legally banned, except for a tiny number of cases (risk to woman's life, and criminal origin) and even then, this is questioned, delayed, ignored.

There are now four drafted legal changes on the table:

centrist-right - go back to what used to be called "abortion compromise" which adds to the above, also the fetal health reason (so, if the fetus is terminally malformed, the pregnancy could be terminated; currently THIS IS NOT ALLOWED)

centrist-leftish-somewhat & left-wing - two versions that cover legal, no-reason-needed abortion up to week 12 with certain other reasons for later stages (eg. diagnosed fetal abnormality); these two have huge overlap, with leftist being more liberal in certain aspects

left-wing additional proposal of decriminalisation of help (eg selling abortion pills, providing money for termination abroad etc); which currently is penalised with 3 years of prison, absolute.

And there are also the right-wing fucks who right now spew their "tiny hands" and "beating hearts" and "killing babies" and all this crap. Good thing we have a strict time limit in these cases, or they would drown us in murderous sacharine.

We've marched, and we've screamed and we've voted the cretins out. Now we have a chance to get abortion rights voted into law.

Keep your fingers crossed for Polish women.

[dfortrafalgar]

I'm Losing You

Having a family isn't always as easy as fairy tales make it seem.

Warnings: Read chapter 1 for warnings. This story is over halfway done now!

Taglist: @phsycochan | @mirillua | @augustanna | @chaixsherlock

Chapter 17

[Prev] [Next]

It had taken about five hours for your body to fully pass the miscarriage, and during that time you were transferred into a more private room in the emergency wing where a labor and delivery doctor from the hospital’s maternity ward assisted with the pain management.  Not like you were psychologically there, and neither was Law.  You had repeated your behavior from previously, your mind’s go-to defense mechanism being to completely shut down, forcing your eyes closed in a feeble attempt to crawl out of your skin and escape reality.  The reality being you, sitting on a toilet in the tiny bathroom of the private room, a bedpan under your body and the L&D doctor, who you wouldn’t speak to, occasionally offering shallow words of support as you hunched in pain with each agonizing cramp that washed through you.  Law kept his eyes trained on your face the entire time, every exhausted contortion of your muscles as ripples of cramps waved through you throughout the seemingly endless seconds of your time in the private room.

When Law saw it, what had left your body, his lunch evacuated from his stomach into the nearest garbage can.  Maybe it was the way it looked, or the fact that the doctor from L&D was holding it in a cold metal bedpan of all things, or maybe the stress of it all finally caught up to the jaded heart surgeon and he settled it by losing his stomach contents.  You didn’t look at it, keeping your eyes closed, desperately wishing to be in your bed at home.

It was clearly going to be a human.  All of the early human-like traits were there.  Two arms, two legs, a head, a body, but it was still so far away from actually being a person.  It barely had what could be called skin, if anything its external appearance seemed more like a glass frog, only a fleshy red color and not green.  That is to say, Law could see the beginnings of organs inside the shape that rested in the chamber pot.

Law started to judge the gravity of calling the fetus an ‘it.’  The doctor holding the bedpan said it was going to be a boy, based on what she called the ‘Nub Theory,’ and was about 12 weeks along, before she cleaned you up and took the almost-boy away to be discarded somehow.  Law’s mind flashed back to the young boy in the CICU who had passed away a few months ago, and the mother who was so distraught that she left Law with a bruise that took two full weeks to fully heal.

He wondered if you cried like that in the ambulance when he wasn’t there to help you.

He wondered if you would’ve hit him, too.  No… you would never.  Not even in your most distraught, vulnerable state would you do that.

Law felt his stomach twist once more for even thinking about you in such a way.

But when he looked at the almost-human in the bedpan, he had to remind himself that the fetus was yours.  That would have been your son.  That would have been his son.

And the actions of that mother in the cardiac ward, hearing her son pass away surrounded by nurses, her screams of agony and despair at having to go home without her little boy, suddenly made a lot more sense to Law.

And for the first time since the two of you had started trying for a baby, he started questioning if he was really meant to be a father.

—

“Give me everything that happened,” Law’s pointed glare and monotone words spoke volumes to Ikkaku and Shachi who sat uncomfortably across the small table in the hospital’s cafeteria.  Robin had arrived after her clinic closed to assess your condition, and Law took the brief opportunity to get the details from the two that were with you before he arrived.

“We were eating lunch outside, the group of us,” Ikkaku started.  “Throughout the day she seemed like she was in more pain than usual, but during lunch it seemed to be getting pretty bad.  She went inside to use the bathroom and apparently fainted in the reception area of the office.  We all came back inside when some of our other coworkers were trying to get her to come to, and she started bleeding heavily so we finally called an ambulance.  I tried to call your phone but it went right to voicemail, so I called Shachi to meet us here.”

Law’s posture was eerily still.  “How was the ambulance ride over?”

Ikkaku was clearly growing uncomfortable under the scrutinizing gaze of her best friend’s husband, but she mustered through her discontent and continued to relay her recent memories.  “She woke up when the ambulance got there, and I think she saw the blood in her pants and started to have a panic attack.  She was refusing to go with the paramedics so they… kinda… manhandled her onto the stretcher.  She was screaming and trying to get away so they tied her down.”  The curly-haired woman used her hands to display a crude image of what she was seeing in her head.  “They strapped down her legs and arms and put her neck in one of those plastic brace things to keep her still, and all of that was before the ambulance even left the parking lot.  She couldn’t even move in the ambulance, but they took off all of her jewelry because they were ‘concerned for her safety.’  I said they were stupid, and they told me to watch my language.”

The black-haired man’s teeth ground against each other in his mouth as he remembered a similar retelling from one of the nurses in your room, the excuse for your wedding ring being missing being out of caution for yourself.  Clearly, the situation was a bit more nuanced, but he didn’t wish to strike up some form of argument with his close friends right now.  Thankfully, your wedding ring had been returned to him a few minutes before you were wheeled to the private room, and was tucked safely in the pocket of Law’s slacks.

Shachi piped up, keeping his voice low.  “When I got here she was still crying and screaming, there was a nurse that came up to her on the stretcher and put her hand over her mouth and told her to be quiet.  I honestly wanted to slap her for that.  I mean, what kind of nurse tells a crying woman to shut up?”

An understandable question indeed.  Law ran an incredibly tight ship in his cardiac ward, with his nurses and fellow doctors being well-rounded individuals who worked incredibly under the high pressure environments in and out of the operating room, and based on what Law had seen and heard throughout the afternoon, he was starting to wonder if his was the only department that behaved somewhat normally.

“Sorry for calling in the middle of a surgery, by the way,” mumbled Shachi, awkwardly rubbing his hand on the back of his neck.  

“Don’t be, you couldn’t have known,” Law replied, his own voice low and pensive.

“Law, are you okay?” Ikkaku asked, reaching her hand across the table and giving a friendly pat to the doctor’s forearm which lay across his side of the table.

The man bowed his head, hiding his clearly bloodshot and exhausted eyes behind the feathery wisps of his black hair.  He could feel his mouth growing dryer by the second, his nose still sore from wiping away the snot caused by his crying, his lips dry and chapped with the way he gnawed on them in the failed attempt to keep his sobs at bay.

“No, I’m not,” was all he said.

Ikkaku and Shachi shared nervous, anxious glances with one another.

The redhead reached his own hand forward now, tapping it gently against the surface of the table in Law’s field of vision.  “Do you want us to bring you anything?  Snacks… water… something to read…”

“No thank you, but if you could go and check on Bepo that would be great,” Law muttered, turning down his friend’s offer faster than he probably should’ve.  “Thank you guys for telling me everything, I’m going to go back to her room.”  He turned his back on his two concerned friends before they had the chance to muster out their goodbyes, hoping that he could hide his face once more to quell the oncoming tears that threatened to fall for a second time.

Law hated crying.  He always hated crying.  Crying left him feeling more exhausted than a 12 hour surgery.  Crying left him feeling weak and defeated, like a dehydrated, shriveling plant that gets left to deteriorate on a scorching windowsill.  Throughout his entire life, he had only truly cried a total of three times.  Once when he lost his family in their house fire.  Twice when his adoptive father figure was murdered before his very eyes.

And three times today, weeping over your form over the baby that was lost.  Again.

The hallways of the main corridor were uncharacteristically empty as Law’s feet dragged his fatigued body down the tiled hallways, his shoes scuffing the floor with each labored step.  He fought desperately to control his breathing, his lungs feeling like they were filling with water, his body fighting for life.  How pathetic he was.  You were the one in pain.  You were the one losing the baby.  So why was he getting so worked up?  Why was he letting himself fall?

In sickness and in health.

“FUCK,” Law lost control of his vocal chords as he shouted into the empty hallway, the only witness to his outburst being the LED lights on the ceiling, illuminating his shame.  He hadn’t consciously registered the way his body contorted, his hand balling into a fist as he drove his limb into the wall next to him, the force of the blow making him grimace.  A sizable dent was left where his knuckles had impacted the drywall, blood beginning to seep from the skin of his tattooed fingers as he let his knees buckle and send him to the floor.  He slumped against the wall, gazing at the back of his hand.

D  E  A  T  H

Law was an edgy undergraduate.  He funneled his trauma, his insecurity, his distaste for life into his studies, drowning himself in textbooks and medical demonstrations, filling the blank spaces in his psyche with music that shared the same disdain for the world as he did.  He littered his skin with marks that spoke to him, the marks of his family and the marks of death.  He didn’t care if the tattoos on his fingers gave him less chances of getting into medical school, he did what felt was right.  He had escaped death more times than a kid ever should have, and the ink in his skin was a testament to that.

You had poked fun at the symbolism on the day you first met him.  A doctor with the word ‘DEATH’ written on his hands was an ironically funny image.  You had said something along the lines of, “I think I would trust my doctor more if he had ‘DEATH’ on his hands.  At least it would make more sense if he happened to kill me.”

Law had scoffed at that.  His tattoos were nothing to joke about.  But he came back to you because of the smile that rested on your lips as you laughed, the way the skin around your eyes creased with your happiness.  You were a magnet pulling him into your embrace.  Suddenly, the blank spaces in his mind previously filled with depressing music were filled with the image of you.  Your smile, your eyes, your bubbly giggle, the alluring smell of your perfume, the way you filled every room with light, the way you brought joy to the lives of your friends, your nerdy talks, your voice as you sang along to his music in the passenger seat of his car…

Hot tears plopped onto the tiled floor, some hitting the skin of his knuckles, making the bleeding wounds sting with the foreign contact as Law remained slumped against the wall, staring blankly at his hands as the wounds on his fist continued to ooze dark red blood.  He missed his mother, his father, his little sister.  He missed the way his mother would wipe his tears away with the sleeve of her shirt, kissing his forehead and ruffling his thick black hair.  He missed the way his sister would cling to him on the playground, relying on her strong older brother for support.  He missed his adoptive dad, the freakishly tall, clumsy, blonde ex-marine reserve who smoked indoors and would leave accidental burn marks on his clothes.  He missed the way his dad would pick Law up like he was weightless, singing praises to the child’s accomplishments, even the most menial.  Law always told you how he wished his family could have met you, how they easily would have adored you for everything you brought into his previously dark life.  He wondered what his family would say to him now, as he sat on the cold floor of the hospital’s main campus, alone, bleeding from his hand.

“They’d be proud of you.”

Law’s golden eyes opened at the sound of the voice coming from in front of him.  Shachi was crouched directly in front of him, a soft smile gracing his crooked mouth as he used his shoulder to support himself against the wall in front of his friend.

“I know you.  You’re thinking about Cora and your family, aren’t you?” he asked, retaining his cheeky personality but flooding his words with an air of unabashed kindness.

Behind him, Ikkaku stood, her own eyes welling with overwhelmed tears, but standing and blocking Law from the lights that shone down on his defeated form.  She too had a small smile on her lips.

Shachi moved to stand upright, grabbing Law’s arm and hauling the taller man to his feet.  Law barely stepped forward to pull his friend into a back-breaking hug, releasing everything he was bottling up into the shoulder of his best friend.  Shachi’s arms supported Law, hugging the man back and squeezing him with the might only a life-long friend could have.  

“You’re doing great, Law,” the redhead whispered.

Nobody spoke a word as the two led the doctor back to your room in the emergency ward.  Law’s tears continued to fall, his hand finally clotting.  

When he rounded the corner of your room, you were standing upright, your body wrapped in a fabric hospital gown, your own cheeks puffy with the force of your own crying.  Robin was supporting your arm as you were about to lay back down on the bed, but as you witnessed Law enter your room once more, supported by your two best friends, you pushed past your doctor and threw yourself into the waiting arms of your husband.  His hands circled around you, your personal shield, your knight, holding you against his trembling body as his tears fell into your hair, as his head dipped down to hide in your shoulder and as your own face buried into the crevice of his neck, your unending tears soaking his shirt.  The world vanished around the two of you as you stood in his embrace.

[ftmdilfmode]

Thinking about superfetation and extended pregnancy...

(this post is about trans men, with he/him pronouns, getting pregnant. Please don't add female, misgendering or de-trans tags)

Tw: tmpreg, ftm birth, sewing cervixes shut, birth denial, multiple pregnancy, fetuses of different gestational ages, breastfeeding, breast pumping, lactation, extended pregnancy, medically inaccurate

The idea of getting pregnant and my partner not being able to keep their hands off of me, fucking me constantly. They're obsessed with my bump, especially when we get to the second trimester and I start getting bigger fast. He jokes about it being twins, but the scans from my first trimester only showed one, so I convince myself he's wrong.

I go to my 20 week ultrasound and find out that there's a 20 week baby in the lower part of my womb with a 6 week fetus above it. It's a rare case of superfetation, getting pregnant while already pregnant.

Despite the risks, my partner is thrilled, and my doctor is convinced that I can deliver the older baby when it's time, and they can keep the other baby inside for the extra 14 weeks. I'd be pregnant for anywhere from 52-56 weeks total, but they convince me to try it.

I struggle with the rest of my pregnancy, full and stretched from the awkward way both babies are sitting in my womb. My partner barely lets me get out of bed, constantly rubbing and worshipping my body and inviting his friends over to see what a miracle we're experiencing, making sure that I let them fuck all my holes while they're feeling my bump.

My due date approaches and I can barely stand, severely swollen with a ten pound 40 week baby and a two pound 28 week baby stacked in my womb. The doctors are adamant that I can't deliver the second baby yet, and they'll do anything to keep it inside me until it's ready. The pressure mounting, I wonder if I can just keep them both in longer so I can deliver them together...

My body betrays me, however, going into labor at 40 weeks. I cry and beg for the doctor to stop it as I start contracting hard and fast, but it's time for the first baby to arrive. There's nothing they can do but rub my sore cunt and tdick as I labor on all fours and push, screaming in pain as I feel my cunt lips thin and stretch around the head, the shoulders popping out shortly after as they pull the baby out of me.

I try to relax but I feel my doctor shoving her hand up my cunt, pushing the second baby farther back into my womb before grabbing a large speculum. She shoves it inside my cunt, stretching it open as wide as possible. I try to ask what she's doing before I feel a repeated sharp pain as she used a needle and medical stitching to sew my gaping cervix shut before removing the speculum.

"there, another 12 weeks at least." She smiled, handing me my first baby to breastfeed.

Even with the new baby, my partner just couldn't keep his hands off me. That's why I wasn't surprised when I went to get my stitches removed and get an ultrasound for the remaining baby, now 40 weeks along, and we found another 8 week fetus above it in my womb.

I cried, knowing that I was going to be pregnant for literally years at this point, constantly giving birth and having my cervix sewn shut over and over again. Then I rubbed my swollen stomach and put on my breast pump, feeling my babies moving inside me as I leaked milk into bottles, and I started rubbing my tdick.

Maybe this is just my fate, maybe I can learn to love this...

Maybe I can stay pregnant forever?

[tragedycoded]

writing share tag!

Oh shit, @cowboybrunch left an open tag on that beautiful excerpt of babygirl Theo being an asshole. And I'm whittling away at this short story.

Yesterday I posted the first 3.1k words of "Among the Elements," which I am revising.

Today I'm offering up 1,930 words and content warnings for DIY surgery, first-person past-tense body horror, and general Mad Science in the name of self-impregnation. It's explicit. IDK how else to tag this. Be careful.

Week 12 Wednesday Most obvious answer has been in front of me the entire time. , Or, rather, adjacent to the experiment itself--it is within my own corpus.

Incubator biosynthetic for sake of fetus's health and safety--never designed with goal of implanation--odds of rejection significant--lower than odds of discovery if left exposed.

Will need to procure robotic assistance. Unable to perform procedure alone. Will require magnetic nerve block, suction, traction, cauterization, waste management if the procedure is successful…

Uncertain as to best incision site. If transverse, reduced risk of hernia and shorter recovery time--limited exposure to surgical site, challenging closure, risk of nerve damage.

Longitudinal…

Had I known I would be installing through a longitudinal incision I may have made different methodological decisions. Earlier installation for one. Will have to manually extract incubator at conclusion of gestation.

Worry about that later.

//

Completed risk assessment.

Incubator 49.5cm in length. Able to accommodate utilizing space in abdominal cavity.

Circumference presents concern. Material somewhat inflexible. Will have to rearrange cavity interior. Possible organ removal necessary.

//

Must be longitudinal incision. Large scar, slower recovery; fewer surgical complications due to open site, will be able to visualize organ migration.

Nothing more to consider. Prepping now. Will update after.

Thursday Glad I'm not two centimeters shorter.

//

Anti-rejectants performing admirably. No redness at site of incision. Pain persistent but tolerable--pharmaceutical intervention will cause unwanted mutations at this stage of gestation even if our systems are not enmeshed.

Acclimating to persistent feeling of fullness and the effect it is having on the gastrointestinal and urogenital systems. Unable to rest supinated--incubator weight occludes the inferior vena cava. Pressure on diaphragm also an unforeseen concern. Several pre-surgical consideration for future application of this prototype.

//

Awakened with realization that THIS IS A PROTOTYPE.

If this doesn't kill either myself or the fetus the implication of successful implantation is phenomenal.

Of course the probability of our both expiring is significant. Compared to this afternoon the fetus's vitals are stable and strong while father vitals are stable and show hypotension and hypoxemia. Lower limb elevation with compression and oxygen adjunct resolved.

I must proceed with caution.

Friday Limited space in hollow organs.

Have learned to vomit without use of abdominal muscles.

Longitudinal incision a terrible idea. That robot was a terrible idea. This was all a terrible idea. I am the king of terrible ideas.

//

Terrible Idea That Wasn't Terrible After All #18: program robot to feed cat in morning. Stay in bed.

She did join me, which was unforeseen. Cleaned her face for roughly an hour and then--purring--laid on my side. Desires the heat of the incubator, doubtless. Considered kicking her out of bed but felt unwell. Feel less unwell, now.

Saturday Fetal heartrate elevated today.

Corpus temperature 38.1C.

This may be how I die. I'd always hoped it would be an explosion that did it. Or an electrical mishap.

Adjusting anti-rejectant dosage.

Sunday Fetal heartrate returned to 110bpm. Corpus temperature reduced to 37.8C. All other systems nominal.

Would say it is easier to breathe but that would be both a colloquialism and a lie. Am however much improved compared to yesterday. Damned cat purred and refused to leave my side until I was able to remove her myself. Robot shuttled broth from the nutrient synthesizer to the bed--I've not taken in nutrients since Wednesday evening.

Thus far the onboard biometrics have reported no issues with the fetus's metabolism or gestation. Incubator nutrient system is unaffected by change in environmental conditions.

Too soon to celebrate.

Monday Cat insists on running in front of me as I'm walking.

Blood loss within acceptable limits--stitches holding--some internal shifting that resolved with external binding. Incubator switching from internal nutrition and filtration to transplacental--connecting its vascular system to mine--a strange sensation I'm unable to put into words, knowing how like and unalike a plumbing system, it can be.

Thinking of my body as a house. Must still be delirious. Back to bed.

Week 13 Wednesday Condition improving--post-operative pain and swelling have subsided significantly--am able to walk from one side of the apartment to the other and have attempted stairs--the incubator appears settled in the abdominal cavity.

One benefit of this arrangement is the incubator will not grow. It is sized for a 12-week-old infant. If I am careful I believe I will be able to keep the incubator hidden for the duration--either in my person, which is less than ideal, or upon returning to a secure laboratory where I can work uninterrupted to perform an extraction. Until such time, I suppose the fetus--

Continuing to refer to the experiment as "the fetus" is unideal. Will have to decide upon a more appropriate name.

Week 18 Friday Initial consideration of healing factor accelerant not entirely baseless--however, I've decided to allow the installation site to close on its own without interfering with placental growth factor. Elastic bandage ensured the incubator did not exert excess pressure on--quite a bit of in and ex in those two sentences for there being not a lot of either, until this stage of the experiment.

Five weeks to complete closure--I should say that's nominal healing, under the circumstances. My own biology may be resistant to the experiment but it continues to perform its essential functions. Equilibrium is returning.

Final and admittedly unthought-through stage of phase I complete.

The experiment is safe.

Week 19 Monday The temptation--the need, I would say, if I were inclined to enter hyperbole into scientific record at some point in the future. I don't need. I want to run scans on this experiment, and the frequency of that want is… overwhelming. Until this point, it would have been too early to scan. Yet that want reared its head near every week for the past month.

Today I was able to measure the fetus's development, and observed continued healthy growth and functionality. Fetus is in the 25th percentile for height and weight with no abnormalities. All vital organs and systems functioning within normal parameters. The incubator is effectively supporting fetal growth and well-being.

While the incubator itself is completely self-contained and able to produce its own hormones, mine has now joined the lymphatic and vascular systems in reducing the incubator's energy consumption.

Am uncertain what to make of this, and look forward to postpartum dissection of the incubator to determine what caused spontaneous integration.

[See supplemental data log for biometric data for week 19 fetal growth.]

//

The biometric scanner is capable of producing imagery of the fetus based on soundwaves.

I saw them. I saw them tonight. They're alive.

//

For the sake of transparency--yes. I was overcome with emotion. It would appear as though the incubator's presence within my abdominal cavity is also exerting bottom-up control over the corpus's endocrine system. I am drawn to think of abstract concepts such as embodiment and caregiving. Of how my corpus had not changed in the milliseconds before the biometric scanner produced an image of the experiment's face, but the experiment became the baby upon subjection to the observer effect. Whether that meant I, by extension, was changed. Whether I had inherited personhood with the death of my ignorance.

I was overcome. I now know everything there is to know about the baby.

I saw my child tonight.

Week 21 Monday The temptation to perform a scan more frequently than every four weeks is maddening. I have the incubator set to alert me if anything changes--not even to suboptimal levels; any change at all--I know when the heartbeat increases, when not enough nutrients are moving through the exchange--when the baby puts their thumb in their mouth.

The only metric I have not gathered concerns their sex. All I know is they are healthy, and I have to be patient.

That sad, I am finding it increasingly difficult to focus on other projects with earlier deadlines. This requires patience, and I keep daydreaming. Knowing months are left between myself and the conclusion of this experiment--for which I was unable to gather consent from the most important participant! Not quite six months, and the difference in how I think of this baby today compared to a series of CRISPR instructions… it may be the literal internalization of my role in the infant's development, or knowing that soon they could survive outside the incubator--so much time has passed, and yet it is not near soon enough to extract the unit.

Nothing to do between here and then but gather data--and, I suppose, as the child has ears, to read to them. Or sing.

Unable to recall if my parents sang to me, when I was only a possibility. Before they sent me away. I was an agreeable child, is my recollection. The Society came for me, and appealed to my parents. They could not give me the sort of education the Society was offering to pay for, and my parents wanted to give me everything. They did not want me to have to work the way they worked.

I wish I would have argued with them. It would have made no difference. But I wish I had told them I didn't want to go.

This child deserves a promise--not to be sent away, and not to be made to be agreeable, if we are not in agreement.

Now I understand why strangers ask if other strangers want to see pictures of their babies, the new ones, all the way up to teenagerhood. I want to show everyone I pass on the street that printout of the impression of this child, the unformed features of their face, and I want to tell them, I made this. This is the only important thing I'll ever do in my life.

Week 23 Neighborhood hot when I returned from the metro. Counted no fewer than four MIB per square kilometer. Uncertain whether they're looking for me--no reason why they ought to be. Simplest and most obvious answer is someone else in the area is drawing attention to themselves. See prev entry re: Omens. Foolish to think ignoring the presence of Technocrats reduces their interest in me, should their interest be above zero. Will proceed with caution.

Week 24 Weight increased substantially, though the incubator has not changed in size. Baby has been gaining 29 grams per week, and the placenta is keeping pace with their development. Anticipate accelerated growth as the trimester continues.

Plenty to discuss, and nothing at all of note. My impatience rears when I acknowledge it; and, in acknowledging it, I have to wonder if impatience doesn't serve as this child's mother, rather than Scientific inquiry.

Week 25 I'm certain other events occurred yesterday that are worth noting. Every other day I make a new discovery, or experience a breakthrough. Were I not frightened of it being entered into evidence, I would record much more of the child's development than I have been.

I am afraid--paranoid, even--and yet.

Every ounce of fear I've felt thus far was erased by a sensation I'd never felt before--never would have felt before--replaced by what can only be described as enlightenment.

I felt like a mortal man stealing fire from the divine. One who went up the mountain sightless and returned with fire. I was, for a moment, a god.

And in that moment I was aware of the presence of life growing within my own, housed within a structure that defies reason or sanity, and I was aware because I felt. I ought not to have been able to feel--I never programmed the biopolymers to transmit information--yet they have.

This is not referred mechanoreception.

I can feel my child move.

[seoul-bros]

Jikook Week 1 Complete ✔️(12-19/12/23)

Their first week in the military is now complete and it's time to celebrate this milestone. This week in 2013, Jimin and Jungkook were getting ready to celebrate a Perfect Christmas.

Twitter Link 1, Twitter Link 2

Jimin appeared on Twitter saying "I want to cook for you, just thinking about it makes me happy." Anytime, anywhere Jiminie. The airfare would be cheap at the price.

Twitter Link 3

On the 18th December, JK appeared with RM in the Big Hit Episode for the Perfect Christmas song with JHope's buddy Jo Kwon.

Look at our shy boy with the killer voice. Adorable. No wonder Jimin couldn't resist him.

Fetus jikook celebrating their first Christmas together after debuting as BTS. Lindos recuerdos.

Facebook Media Set 18th December 2013