#a fetus is not a parasite

[ihavevisions]

Varian has experienced togetherness with his mother two times in his life:

In the womb;

While being possessed.

[haggishlyhagging]

A few years ago one Robert Byrn, a 40-year-old professor of criminal law at Fordham University, took it upon himself to represent all human fetuses between the fourth and twenty-fourth week of gestation scheduled to be aborted in New York City municipal hospitals. Byrn was himself represented by attorney Thomas Ford, who made the following statement: "The fetus might well be described as an astronaut in a uterine spaceship." As Ellen Frankfort aptly comments:

It takes a certain kind of imagination to assume guardianship for something lodged within another's body—a rather acquisitive proprietary imagination that fits right in with the conception of a woman as a spaceship and the contents of her womb as an astronaut.

The astonishing Byrn incident and the analogy made by his attorney merit some attention for the light they throw upon the deceptions of male myth. Since an astronaut is perceived as the captain of a "vessel," there is a desire to see the fetus as controlling the woman. Moreover, the image of the astronaut in a spaceship is interesting also because in this image the "captain" is very much controlled by other males outside the spaceship (for example, politicians, economists, scientists, flight surgeons, engineers). This makes the analogy particularly "appropriate" in its perverse way, for the fetus is maintained in control of the woman by males outside (for example, politicians, legislators, priests, doctors, social workers, counselors, husbands, "lovers"). Moreover, the analogy involves deceptively circular reasoning, making it doubly appropriate in this doublethink context. For here, a biological event—the presence of the fetus in the uterus—is imaged as "like," that is, imitative of, a technological event—the presence of an astronaut in a spaceship. This elicits an obvious question: Is the astronaut in the spaceship an attempt to imitate the situation of the fetus in the uterus? Elsewhere I have shown that there is (unacknowledged) evidence in ethical writings on abortion of a widespread male tendency to identify with fetuses. This merits further analysis.

There are clues about the source of this fetal identification syndrome (which is frequently fatal for women unable to obtain needed abortions) in Frankfort's description of Byrn as "a childless man who seeks to guard unwanted fetal tissue." Males do indeed deeply identify with "unwanted fetal tissue," for they sense as their own condition the role of controller, possessor, inhabitor of women. Draining female energy, they feel "fetal." Since this perpetual fetal state is fatal to the Self of the eternal mother (Hostess), males fear women's recognition of this real condition, which would render them infinitely "unwanted." For this attraction/need of males for female energy, seen for what it is, is necrophilia—not in the sense of love for actual corpses, but of love for those victimized into a state of living death.

Frankfort's description of Byrn as "childless" also merits scrutiny. For it is the condition of all males to be childless, and there is evidence that this condition is experienced as disturbing to those who are obsessed with reproduction of the male self (which should not be confused with any genuine desire to care for and energize another being). Indeed there are male authors who are very willing (perhaps too willing) to attest to the anxiety of males over their childless state. Philip Slater, for example, writes of "this vulnerability of the male in the sphere of worldly immortality which gives rise to the concept of the 'external soul,' so prominent in magic and mythology." According to his view, a woman need not guess whether something of herself continues on in a new organism, for she can see the child emerge from her own body:

Thus if one translates "soul" in these stories as "that part of me which will live on after I die," the woman initially holds her "soul" within herself. It is only the man whose "soul" always resides outside of himself.

Thus "as men have been lamenting for centuries, his immortality is out of his own control."

According to this view, then, males identify the "immortal" soul with biological offspring, and women should feel fortunate in their role as incubators, shells, hotels, youth hostels, homes, hatcheries for human souls. I have already suggested that it is dangerous for women to accept reductionist theories about the male propensity for "womb envy." Thus it should arouse suspicion that Karen Horney's "womb envy" theory (with which she countered Freud's proposition of "penis envy") has been eagerly adopted by some liberal males (for example, Philip Slater). The problem with such a theory is that the implied criticism stops short of being a genuine feminist analysis. Hags must learn to double-double unthink (Andrea Dworkin's phrase)—that is, to go past the obvious level of male-made reversals and find the underlying Lie. Thus it is a pitfall simply to reverse "penis envy" into "womb envy," for such theories trick women into fixating upon womb, female genitalia, and breasts as our ultimately most valuable endowments. Not only disparagement, but also glorification of women's procreative organs are expressions of male fixation and fetishism. These disproportionate attitudes are also demonically deceptive, inviting women to re-act with mere derivative fetishism, instead of deriding these fixations and focusing upon the real "object" of male envy, which is female creative energy in all of its dimensions. Male hatred of women expressed in such fetishized forms hides the deeper dimensions of envy, which remain unacknowledged. Thus we hear one male say of another's "project" or invention, "That's his baby." We also hear men describe the books, papers, articles of other men as "pregnant" with meaning. Such deceptive expressions provide clues to the deeper levels of deception. They suggest that the procreative power which is really envied does in fact belong primarily to the realm of mind/spirit/ creativity. Yet this envy is not necessarily a desire to be creative, but rather to draw—like fetuses— upon another's (the mother's) energy as a source. Thus men who identify as mothers (that is, supermothers controlling biological mothers) are really protecting their fetal selves. They wish to be the fetuses/ astronauts and the supermothers/ ground commanders, but not the biological vessels/ spaceships which they relegate to the role of controlled containers, and later discard as trash.

-Mary Daly, Gyn/Ecology

[feral-lore-creature]

It's beyond baffling to me that the only reason why some people think abortions are acceptable is if the person who needs to get one is suffering. Like they HAVE to be suffering for the act to be morally "right" or acceptable.

Sometimes people just don't want a culturally glorified parasite inside them, even if they're by all means capable of taking care of a child if they wanted to.

[jerseymuppet]

the leon kennedy crop top/tramp stamp mod. and the nudity mod with both flaccid and erect options. not enough. i won’t be happy until i can have ada impregnate leon via strap.

[mikubobhatsunepants]

this blog is for art and yapping i will only be dropping shit off and then dipping i was NOT made to handle social media

[crims0n-scourge]

I need to call this clinic to tell them I am parasite free what do you MEAN MY CALL DIDNT GO THROUGH

[prokopetz]

One of the occupational hazards of being so preoccupied with game design as a discipline is that sometimes I'll have dreams that are just some unknown force explaining an idea for a game to me, and last night I dreamed what is possibly the most obnoxious mechanical premise for a game I've ever come up with.

In brief, it was a traditional JRPG-style game with an atypical levelling-up scheme. Rather than gaining XP or levelling up at milestones, party members would grow in power by finding and absorbing or ingesting these little extradimensional parasites, represented in the dream as small grub- or fetus-like creatures with smiling humanoid faces. These parasites would be found as treasure and enemy drops, and could freely be given to any party member, except for the player character; the player character alone was unable to use them for Plot Reasons, and was entirely reliant on equipment to grow in power instead.

Absorbing a parasite both granted permanent stat boosts and unlocked weird psychic powers. However, they'd also cause progressive personality changes in the party members to which they were assigned, reflected by changes in dialogue and interactions, and eventually in granting or denying access to particular side quests. This function of the parasites was undocumented, and would likely go unnoticed by the player on their initial playthrough, as they'd level up as they went and would never see the unmodified dialogues.

A further wrinkle is that this effect was mediated by the game's expected progression. Farming parasites and "over-levelling" beyond where the game expected you to be would accelerate the personality changes, while going deliberately under-levelled would slow them (i.e., by giving your party members more time to acclimate to having bugs in their brains); like the personality changes themselves, the existence of these hidden modifiers would not be hinted at to the player.

If you spent a long enough stretch of the game sufficiently over-levelled, you'd eventually receive a non-standard game over where your party would betray, kill, and eat the player character. Furthermore, this non-standard ending had a deliberate "eclipse phase" whereby it would wait for a while after you hit the required threshold before pulling the trigger, in particular making sure that you've saved at least once, leaving your save file irrevocably fucked.

As a final twist, the non-standard game over would only trigger after resting; though the game's mechanics would heavily incentivise resting on a regular basis, it would theoretically be possible to massively over-level your party on purpose and avoid the bad ending simply by never resting again, potentially as a speedrun strat. However, doing so would alter the game's ending to replace the usual final boss with a hopeless solo boss fight against your own massively over-levelled party.

[secularprolifeconspectus]

Quick Pro-Life Responses

Keep in mind: the fundamental disagreement between pro-life and pro-choice is on whether a fetus is being formed into a person, or if the fetus is already a person and is simply developing.

Confidently assert, “you say that because you think a fetus is not a person yet.”

They may concede fetuses are people in word, but still not conceptualize them as full people worthy of equal consideration.

“I have the right to bodily autonomy.”

Abortion is literally suffocation, poisoning, or dismemberment of a living human organism.

Abortion induces fetal demise by depriving a human of oxygen, blood, or vital function.

Bodily autonomy does not justify abuse of power and excessive force over a helpless person.

Abortion, a disproportionately brutal response to a passive threat, is aggressive violence.

“No one has the right to use my body.”

Correct. But, a prenatal person does not use a pregnant person’s body. They have no agency.

A pregnant person’s body takes care of the prenate. This care is ordinary and healthy.

Abortion is not like refusing care to a dying person, it is like murdering a healthy captive.

No one has the right to murder someone who they caused to be dependent on them.

“I have the right to revoke my consent.”

When you give consent, you agree to accept the foreseeable outcomes and risks of an action.

The creation of a bodily dependent is a foreseeable outcome of consensual intercourse.

You cannot revoke consent to outcomes. You can revoke consent to actions.

You may not violently sacrifice a helpless person to “mitigate” a risk of a consensual action.

“Anything dependent on my body is a parasite.”

If you make parasites, then you’re a parasite; it’s misogynist to suggest women are parasites.

The female body would not actively try to make pregnancy happen if it were parasitic.

Prenates never directly cause pregnant people harm; they are not aggressors or parasites.

Using developmental dependency to justify murder is simultaneously ageist and ableist.

“An embryo is just a clump of cells.”

Human embryos meet NASA’s criteria for the characteristics of distinct living organisms.

Human embryos are self-directed and their development follows a body plan.

Human embryos are organized and individual. They already have inherited capacities.

Tumors and gametes do not follow an organized body plan.

“Early humans have no cognitive capacities.”

By week 3, the embryo has a spine and is developing a nervous system.

By week 5, the embryo has a rudimentary brain that controls their pulse.

By week 8, the embryo has pain reflexes and can move their limbs.

It’s incredibly ableist to use the cognitive inabilities of a human being to justify their murder.

“If a fetus is a person, so is a brain-dead human.”

A brain-dead human is, obviously, dead. It’s an oxygenated corpse, the remains of a person.

Death occurs when human organisms stop resisting entropy and lose organic integration.

Preborn people actively resist entropy (decay) and have organic integration (unity).

An early human organism isn’t dependent on a mature brain to organize her vital functioning.

“Later abortions only happen for medical reasons.”

According to two studies by pro-abortion researcher at UCSF Katrina Kimport, this is untrue.

Kimport’s studies found that the reasons for later abortions are similar to early abortions.

Later abortions aren’t euthanasia; infants are stabbed with lethal injections and dismembered.

Perinatal hospice and palliative care relieve suffering. Dying babies deserve love, not murder.

“What about rape and incest?”

Abortion is not evidence-based treatment for sexual trauma. Abortion is traumatic as well.

A preborn child should not be condemned to the death penalty for their father’s crime.

It is safe for most menstruating children to carry pregnancies to viability with sufficient prenatal care.

Children conceived in incest are likely to have disabilities; that’s not reason to murder them.

“What about health of the mother?”

Every abortion ban in the US has exceptions for if the mother’s life or body is in grave danger.

We are not against tragic cases of triage. We are against elective induced abortion.

Some procedures coded medically as abortions aren’t legally or ethically defined as abortions.

Pro-life doctors report that the bans have not impeded their ability to treat their patients.

Your Core Arguments

There is no sound evidence or consistent logic that proves the preborn are the only class of human beings exceptional to the rule that humans are people with equal rights.

If a being is in the dynamic process of bonding with us as kin, then that being is a whole actual person by the manner of actively and inherently relating to our collective humanity.

Embryonic humans are full and equal people like us because they latently embody our same capacities and are manifesting them as we are, on account of sharing our nature.

[la-era-atomica]

"A parasite is a non-living organism."

Ma'am.

Angelica ASMR video rping as a pregnancy center employee: Sometimes people believe that if the parents aren't making six figures ... it means automatically that the child is better off not coming to Earth ... However it does make you wonder ....

Oh God she thinks Jews are eating the fetuses.

[francixoxoxo]

˚ .✧ Precious as Rubies

𝒞ℴ𝓇𝒾ℴ𝓁𝒶𝓃𝓊𝓈 𝒮𝓃ℴ𝓌 𝒳 ℛℯ𝒶𝒹ℯ𝓇

𝒞ℴ𝓇𝒾ℴ𝓁𝒶𝓃𝓊𝓈 ��𝒽ℴ𝓊𝑔𝒽𝓉 𝒽ℯ 𝒸ℴ𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝓃ℯ𝓋ℯ𝓇 𝓁ℴ𝓋ℯ 𝓈ℴ𝓂ℯ𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒽𝒶𝒹 𝓅𝓊𝓉 𝓎ℴ𝓊 𝓉𝒽𝓇ℴ𝓊𝑔𝒽 𝓈𝓊𝒸𝒽 𝒽ℯ𝓁𝓁． 𝒴ℴ𝓊𝓇 𝒹𝒶𝓊𝑔𝒽𝓉ℯ𝓇 𝓅𝓇ℴ𝓋ℯ𝓈 𝒽𝒾𝓂 𝓌𝓇ℴ𝓃𝑔， ℯ𝓋ℯ𝓇𝓎 𝒹𝒶𝓎 𝓉𝒽𝓇ℴ𝓊𝑔𝒽 𝓉𝒽ℯ 𝓎ℯ𝒶𝓇𝓈．

𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭!

𝐓𝐖: 𝐦𝐚𝐣𝐨𝐫 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡, 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐲 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬

Lollllll sorry for angst

Coriolanus’ world had nearly stopped turning when the doctor told him your pregnancy could be fatal.

He swore he would never, never love the child who killed the love of his life. The only woman he could ever love. Coryo’s late-night tears became cries of anger, tears of spite. That damn fetus. He did this to you, he put that parasite into your perfect body and now you wouldn’t let him fix his mistake. Now you forced him to live with the consequences.

He would never love the child that killed you.

Coriolanus had been paralyzed with fear that all that spite, all that hate for his own baby might dampen whatever love he had left, now that she had let you live. He was proved impossibly wrong, the very moment Ruby wrapped her little, chubby fingers around his pinky and his azure eyes flooded with tears. Oh, it was him wrapped around her finger from then on.

The first night you brought her home, Coriolanus held you close to him, pressing sweet kisses to your forehead and cheeks. Telling you just how grateful he was for you. Murmuring just how much he adored you. Putting his foot down and whispering that you two would have no more children after this whole wreck. It seemed like just after you two fell asleep, Ruby’s cries came from the nursery.

Coryo moved to get up, but you shook your head. “She’s hungry. I’ll get it.” You cooed, a gentle hand on his chest pushing him back against the mattress. He grumbled something but obliged you.

When you slipped back into his arms, Coryo stirred only enough to press a kiss to your hairline and mumble a goodnight. You were exhausted, sleep was calling your name.

Until a few hours later you awoke to your daughter’s bawls from the room over. This time, your husband threw the covers off him before you could protest. He leaned over you to press a kiss to your forehead, murmuring, “It’s only fair.”

You don’t protest. Childbirth has exhausted you, quite frankly. So you let your eyes flutter shut, and your mind slip into sleep.

You wake up only just a few hours later, though not to Ruby crying. Some instinct in you forces you to your feet— Coryo isn’t in his side of the bed. Barefoot and sore, you make your way to the nursery, all sorts of nerves shooting through you.

When you push open the door, the hallway lights pour into the dark nursery to illuminate Coriolanus, sitting in the rocking chair beside Ruby’s bassinet. He was absolutely knocked out, baby in his arms, bottle empty in his hand and head tipped back against the chair, blonde curls loose and mussed. Oh, what a sight.

You worked hard to keep your laughter to yourself, carefully stepping closer and kissing Coryo’s forehead. You almost lifted Ruby from his arms, but it was such a tender vision that you couldn’t bring yourself to. You slept very soundly, knowing that your baby was safely tucked into her father’s arms.

Coriolanus proved himself over and over again just how good a father he could be. You and him both agreed that you needed to be involved with Ruby, you couldn’t just leave her to a nanny as most capitol socialites would.

Ruby was a blessing, and Coryo always treated her as such. He read to her at night, you’d sit in that same rocking chair he’d fallen asleep in all those years ago, looking between your daughter and husband. His eyes would be trained on the book, occasionally he smiled up at Ruby. Oh, she’d grown into the most darling little girl.

With your dark locks in the shape of Coryo’s thick curls, and his bright, sapphire eyes, rosy little cheeks and sweet smiles. Ruby stole everyone’s heart the moment she spoke. Coriolanus absolutely spoiled her, adorning her little neck in expensive yet simple and childish necklaces, a favorite of hers becoming a dainty ruby on a golden chain. You dressed her in the cutest baby doll dresses, wrapping her up in the best fashions and most darling colors to suit her cheery nature. Every toy that girl wanted, her father was holding behind his back, cooing for her to close her eyes as he presented it to her the very next day. Spoiled absolutely rotten, you’d say to Coryo.

“Well, I don’t see a problem.” Coriolanus shrugged, looking up from the documents on his desk and peering at you through his lashes. You were sprawled out over a chaise against the wall of his office, feet propped up on the armrest and a hand splayed over your belly. You’d put a five year old Ruby to bed about thirty minutes ago. it was another late night for Coryo and a restless one for you, so you figured you might stay up with him.

You shake your head. “She’ll get a big head if we aren’t careful.” Coriolanus shook his head, smiling softly to himself. He scrawled his signature on a bill.

“She hasn’t yet. Ruby’s a very humble girl.” Coriolanus announced with pride, glancing towards you. You didn’t seem convinced, still worrying for your daughter. “My love, you never got snobbish. I could shower her in jewels bigger than her fist and she would still take after you.” You were relieved to find that, years later, he was correct.

She never got greedy, or snobbish. Surrounded by spoiled children of her father’s colleagues, you were very careful to remind her to be humble. To be kind.

While you and Coryo got ready for a gala, she’d sit on your bed, watching her father clasp expensive diamond necklaces around your neck, pressing sweet kisses to your shoulder as he zipped up the back of your dress. Watching as you fixed his tie, listening as your wit brought laughter from his lips. The two of you showed Ruby what love was, what it meant to give your whole heart to a person.

Coryo would stand behind you, letting you use up the mirror as he rested his hands on your hips. You’d adjust your hair, and your husband’d rest his chin on your shoulder, meeting Ruby’s eyes in the mirror. “Isn’t your mother beautiful?” He’d say, every single time, lifting his brows. And every single time, Ruby’d nod enthusiastically.

Coriolanus certainly made sure to raise a daughter who adored her mother as much as he did, especially when you’d gone through such hell to have one at all.

When Ruby turned seven, Coryo had excused himself from breakfast for a moment. You’d stood behind your daughter, your hands on her shoulders, raising your brows at your husband as he reentered. Ruby was watching him with big eyes.

“You’re a responsible little girl, aren’t you?” Coriolanus raised his brows, but unable to resist a smile at his daughter. He held his hands behind his back, hiding the present from her. She nodded passionately. “And you’ll take care of this gift?” Ruby would nod her head off her neck if she could.

Coryo glanced up at you, and at your little nod, he brought his hands ‘round to his front to present to a Ruby a kitten, hardly the size of both his palms. Ruby gaped at the little muss of fur, pelt white as snow. “For me? It’s for me?” Ruby gasped, grabbing at the cat eagerly.

“It’s for you, darling girl.” You cooed, watching her hold the kitten. Coryo steps around his daughter and her new cat to slip an arm around your waist.

“Oh, thank you, thank you!” Ruby squealed, moving to sit on her knees with her legs tucked under her, setting the kitten on the floor of the dining room. You watched as Ruby stroked the kitten twixt the ears, her brows drawing in deep thought.

“What’s the matter?” You frown. Ruby shakes her head, shifting the little kitten to the crook of her elbow and coming to hug Coriolanus. Her arms could only wrap around his hips, her head hardly reaching his stomach. His hand instantly came to card through her dark locks. “Nothing… I just don’t know what to name her.” Ruby mumbles into her father’s suit.

Coriolanus reaches down and scoops her up, resting her on his hip. He pretends he isn’t grossed out by the cat on his new suit jacket. “Well, it’s up to you.” He raises his brows. You shrug, slipping a hand between your daughter and husband to stroke Ruby’s cheek.

“What about…” You squint a moment, staring at the rosy hue of your daughter’s cheeks. The color of a— “Poppy?”

Ruby’s sapphire eye lit up, that was the one. She gasped a little, smiling brightly. “Poppy!”

“Mm, mama’s just full of good ideas.” Coryo hummed, leaning over to press a tender but quick kiss to your lips. He turns so Ruby can get a chance to smack a little kiss to your cheek. God, he wished she could stay so little forever.

But she couldn’t. She grew too fast for both of your likings. Before you knew it she was a teenager, earning scoldings from her father practically left and right. “She’s got your rebellious streak,” Coriolanus would huff in the aftermath of a reprimanding. You’d often send him to her room to make things up before bed. He would go reluctantly, but to your satisfaction always come back with a lighter heart and an easier mind.

Before your eyes, Ruby grew into a captivating woman. Yet often she’d still sit on the floor beside your chair, laying her head in your lap and letting her long, luscious dark curls wash across your legs. Ruby would come to you when she was arguing with her father, huffing harsh words about Coriolanus, but biting her tongue as you gently defended his intentions. You’d push your fingers through her hair, watching as those familiar azure eyes stared up at you with an equally familiar adoration.

“Mama, he’s just cruel sometimes.” Ruby muttered, nosing your thigh, her arms tightening around your waist. You absentmindedly braided a few ringlets together as you shake your head.

“He means well, baby.” You promise. Ruby was complaining of the most recent fight, over a man she was seeing. You personally took a liking to the boy, but Coryo made it very clear to you that he didn’t want him anywhere near his little girl. Ruby insisted that she wasn’t so little, that her father didn’t get to make her decisions for her anymore. “He just wants a good partner for you.”

“Nandor is a good man.” Ruby sighed, tilted her head and lifted her eyes to your face. “Won’t you convince him?”

You smile a bit regretfully, stroking the backs of your fingers down her rosy cheeks. “Not good enough for you, my heart.” Nothing would ever be good enough for Ruby, not to Coriolanus. But you agreed to talk to your husband about the boy.

Sometimes you missed when she had been little, moldable and curious. But you were so, unbelievably proud of how far from moldable she was now, as a young woman. Your Ruby was a steadfast, wise girl.

Late at night, you’d murmur these thoughts to Coryo. You’d trace the extra creases in his handsome face that time had etched as he spoke without any bite in his words. “She’s bullheaded.” He’d smile, the action creasing his eyes. You mirrored him.

“Like her father.” You’d remind him, gently.

No matter how stubborn she was, Coriolanus absolutely loved his daughter with his whole heart. He’d try and put up a strong face but she had him wrapped around her finger since the day she was born. And had been making Coryo proud ever since. Proud of her intelligence. Proud of her fiery spirit. Proud of the woman she had became.

All the pain Ruby had caused you was infinitely worth it.

Where the time had gone, Coriolanus didn’t have a clue.

He fidgets with the cuffs of his suit, trying to retrace his steps as if to find exactly where the past two decades went. Twenty-five years. Too soon, he had told Ruby, but that girl was stubborn as all hell. Too soon, he had told you, but you’d smiled and reminded him of how young you both were at your wedding.

Still, Coriolanus drew his eyebrows, he recently had become aware of the amount of creases in his forehead all that time had awarded him. Ruby had just been born, hadn’t she? He’d just had the scare of his life; the relief of his life. He’d just fallen asleep at her crib, watching her sleep through tired eyes. He’d just been picking out a kitten for his little girl, just been smiling like a fool at you while he let her stand on his feet as they danced, he could’ve sworn Ruby had just been little.

But clearly that wasn’t the case. He rubbed his temple, trying to sort the words that he needed to say when he returned to your side later. Trying to think of how he could describe how distraught he felt.

Coryo was giving her away. Too soon. Too young. Oh, it felt like his heart was being ripped from his chest. You seemed so calm. You were always calm, though, weren’t you? He’s glad Ruby didn’t inherit his anxiety.

No, you seemed happy for her. Coriolanus was happy for her, of course. But he couldn’t overlook the fact that Ruby would no longer be under his roof. No longer would she be at his breakfast table, or just down the hall, or just in the garden. He would send her off well, of course; he made sure she and her new husband had the house of their dreams, completely paid for. But that wasn’t any consolation.

It was bittersweet, that’s the word he decided on.

Coryo stood the moment the door opened, smoothing down his tie and buttoning his suit jacket. A smile creeps across his face as he takes in Ruby, his daughter, his darling girl, dressed in a smooth, white sheath dress. He steps forward, brows lifting as his eyes drift over her long sleeves, the lace around her waist, the elegance of the dress.

“Oh, darling.” Coriolanus breathes, nostrils flaring to keep the tears out of his eyes. He lifts her hand, giving her a little twirl and eyeing the lace of her veil. “You’re a beautiful bride.”

“I feel beautiful, really.” Ruby grins, and Coryo is forced to face it. Forced to look into her eyes, her irises like mirrors of his own, forced to realize that she was grown. She was a woman, not a little girl. She looked like you, his heart swelled to think.

Maybe his eyes are wetting, because Ruby hooks her arm around the crook of his elbow, and leans up to press a kiss to his cheek. Coriolanus turns his face to look at her, smiling a bit sadly. “You ready for this?”

“Not in the slightest.” He admits, and as Ruby laughs he realizes that her eyes were wet too. His other hand comes to cup over hers resting on his arm.

Ruby stares at the double doors that they’d walked in front of, her eyes wide and bright. Coriolanus inspected her face. Oh, he didn’t care how old she got, or where she lived, nor who with, he would never stop adoring his daughter.

“I love you, Papa.” Ruby breathes as two servants begin to push the doors open, the muffled piano suddenly filling her ears.

Coryo blinks away some more tears, his chest swelling with a deep breath. “I loved you first.”

Perhaps half a year later, Ruby told the two of you over lunch that she was pregnant.

Pregnant.

Ruby, your little darling girl, was having a child of her own. Oh, you felt so happy that your heart threatened to swell enough to burst. Your daughter was making her own life, and though Coriolanus was convinced that it would be separate from yours, you two would most certainly be in it.

Coryo tried his best to hide it, but you could see those little tears pricking his eyes. Tears of joy, that boyish grin stretching across his lips told you. You clasped his hand tight, the gesture reciprocated with a lingering peck to your cheek.

You feared the worst for a bit. You were paralyzed by the thought that Ruby’s pregnancy would be as horrific as yours was.

But she seemed fine. She didn’t become gaunt, as you had. She was full, glowing and happy. Ruby didn’t feel faint or ill, though she did have normal aches. Everything about her pregnancy was just normal. Perfectly healthy.

Ruby insisted on having her baby at home. You had your qualms, but that girl had always been bullheaded. You just asked that she call you and Coriolanus, so you could be there.

Well, she hadn’t. Neither had her dolt of a husband.

Her dolt of a husband who, scrambling over his words on the phone to Coriolanus, he thought the amount of blood was normal, thought nothing of it, until it had been too late. The midwife couldn’t staunch the blood.

It took everything in him to not kill Nandor himself. He instead sent one of his men, his nostrils flaring as he used the phone built into the back of the limousine to call him, clutching your hand. That idiot, that fool, that devil had practically killed Ruby. The moment he hung up, he was consoling you. Coryo pet your hair away from your face as you wept, your fists clutching onto his suit.

How could this happen? She was perfectly fine, you thought. “She was healthy, she was meant to be healthy. This wasn’t meant to happen! It was meant to be better for her!” You rambled as you bawled, sobbing into Coriolanus’s chest. You stood in the corner of the room, paramedics swarming your daughter. Oh, your poor daughter.

Your darling girl.

Your Ruby.

Coryo, for one, was furious. White hot rage licked at his skin like wildfire. All of his power. All of his control. It meant nothing here. He knew this silly home birth bullshit would only end poorly. But had Ruby listened to him? Had Ruby accepted his money, his offer of the best doctors, the best medicine, the best hospitals? No. She never listened to him, that girl.

He feels out of his mind. His hand is on your band, holding you close and tight, his nose is in your hair, his eyes are stinging, but his mind feels like trudging through murky water.

Coriolanus vaguely recalls wishing that the baby would die, and not you. That God would save you, his love, his life, his everything, in return for taking the fetus. When he got to have both, he wondered how he could ever pray for such a thing.

But he was certain now that God was listening. What a sick joke, he thought, to let Coryo hold his baby. To let him dance with her, read to her, walk with her, love her, only to rip her away. Oh, he regrets every vile thought he’d ever had about Ruby before she was born, when all she was to him was a parasite trying to kill you.

She was killing you now, all over again. Your body shook with sobs, the sound heartbreaking. It was a sharp, consuming pain, to lose a child. To lose a daughter. You felt as if something integral to your soul had been shattered. What hadn’t taken you, had taken your baby.

What a cruel joke.

You weren’t sure when Coriolanus let go of you, his arms unwinding from around you to receive the infant from a paramedic. Cleaned and wrapped in an inoffensive, white cloth. There wasn’t much your distraught mind could manage besides resting a hand on— as the paramedics told you— your granddaughter’s head. You sniffled as fresh bouts of tears poured down your cheeks.

For a moment, Coriolanus was terrified that this was Deja vu. Paralyzing fear shot through him, fear that he would be unable to love this baby. The same way he feared he would be unable to love the child that killed you, he feared he’d resent the child that killed Ruby. His darling Ruby. How could he feel kinship to the parasite that killed his daughter?

But as he held the infant in his hands, his brow pulled taut, oh, no, it was clear. Crystal. He murmured, voice featherlight, “I’ve got you.” You thumped your head to his shoulder, your tears wetting his sleeve. You saw some kind of fierce love in Coryo’s eyes, his jaw ticking.

He could see Ruby in her.

[recoveringsoulsposts]

Women are the superior sex.

We create and nurture human life, serving as the backbone of society. Women uphold humanity and build communities. Despite centuries of degradation, oppression, and systemic barriers, we continue to surpass men. In education, women now outperform men academically. Many of the so-called “great” inventions credited to men were, in reality, stolen from women, only for women’s names to be erased from history.

Biologically, women are more valuable. We live longer, possess stronger immune systems, have higher stress resilience, and are genetically more stable due to our two X chromosomes, which provide genetic protection. Women are essential for the continuation of the human species. Societies with a high female population are more peaceful, stable, and harmonious. Even Mother Nature favors women—during times of extreme stress and famine, female fetuses are more likely to survive. A woman’s body will naturally abort a male fetus, as the XY chromosome is expendable and worthless. Men die earlier, have weaker immune systems, are more likely to be born with birth defects, and are more prone to genetic disorders. I truly believe Males shouldn’t even exist in the large numbers they do currently.

Male value has always been artificial and manufactured. Men by default are more of a burden to the world than anything. Men commit most violent crimes and engage in anti-social behaviors. Prisons are male-dominated, creating a financial burden on governments. A surplus male population leads to increases in human trafficking and social unrest. The effects of China’s one-child policy serve as an example—after the mass murder of female infants and the artificial skewing of the gender ratio in favor of males, China now faces a 30-million-surplus male population. In almost all species, having a high male population is unnatural. As a result, China is experiencing increased human trafficking, rising crime rates, an aging population, and social instability. Males shouldn’t even exist in such large numbers. At birth, males are expendable and worthless by default. A surplus male population is more detrimental to society than anything else. The more you overvalue Men’s natural worth and undervalue Women’s natural worth, patriarchal societies will continue to reap what they sow, and find themselves in this situation. In an artificial, man-made society, system may favour men however nature, biology and the truth will always be on the side of women.

If males were truly superior, as they claim, they wouldn’t need to constantly remind us of their supposed superiority or use outdated systems of power to justify it and claim that ‘men built the world’ when women were deliberately excluded from participating in society and denied access to resources, making us artificially dependent and forcing us to rely on men for survival and to deal with males in the capacities Women have been forced to deal with them. Yet, despite all the rape, torture, humiliation, and abuse women have been subjected to at the hands of men, along with the oppression and discrimination, women have closed the gap within just a few decades and are now outperforming men. As soon as women regain even a small fraction of our rights, we excel, outperform, and thrive

Men’s survival depends on women, not the other way around. There is no metric in which single men outperform single women. Men need women far more than we need them. Men are confirmed parasites, and women are the hosts. Men suck the life out of women, benefiting from relationships and close proximity to Women. Everything they say against women is merely a projection of their own deficiencies, lack of value, and worthlessness. Remember Women brought these men into the world, and women can just as easily choose to stop bringing these men into the world.

[moodymisty]

Author's note: Meep

Relationships: Mortarion/Fem!Reader (no pronouns just uterus implied)

Warnings: Tokophobia, Self deprecation, Dehumanizing kind of language about a fetus lol Morty is cursing his balls for actually working

The news to you, had begun as a bought of sickness.

Mortarion had panicked, worried that his strict decontamination protocol had failed and somehow you'd gotten a pathogen from him, or from something he'd given you. He'd cast suspicion to the new dress he'd gotten you as a gift, vowing to burn it for its perceived transgressions.

You'd quite quickly reassured him you didn't feel that ill, and that it came in waves; like a sour stomach more than a sickness. He still didn't relax, and likely wouldn't until he had a baseline medicae look you over.

He hadn't been there at the time, his men needed to update him on various things concerning his legion- a significantly more important task- and he left you to your check over with the promise that you would update him.

It had been a quick and easy endeavor; You had gotten your diagnosis after a few quick questions, and a blood test.

Pregnant.

It... You had never even considered the idea beyond the overly romantic and at times erotic wandering your mind would do. You don't know why you didn't perceive it as an option; Mortarion is a man, a human one, technically- but you'd never considered this risk. It surely didn't help that Mortarion treated and spoke of his body as if it was broken by various experiments and genetic meddling anyhow.

His return to his quarters was hasty, knowing you would be waiting with whatever news you were given in the time of his absence. When he entered, he soon saw you sitting on the massive bed underneath its canopy.

You insisted on adding it, and Mortarion allowed it after a short bit of pleading. He wouldn't admit it, but he appreciates it now; he enjoys the feeling of security the curtains give his bed as he lays with you surrounded by them. Like a den.

"What did they say?"

His voice was more worn, tired. He'd spoken a lot today. Multiple coughing fits and hours of conversation have rendered his voice more harsh than usual. The hesitation that you exuded worried him however, as you wrung your wrists. He was on a knife's edge before he saw your face soften a tad as you prepared to speak.

"I'm pregnant."

You could see the shock spread across his face, his eyes darting around your face as if somehow still confused. Once it settled more, sinking in his mind like debris in a lake, he stepped closer to you as his ruined throat whispered roughly.

He sounded... Dumbfounded.

"I didn't think..."

He seemed confused, almost upset- you were worried for a moment, until he spoke again a bit louder and clarified the turbulence in his mind.

"I... I am sorry."

"I did this to you, I put that in you, I- I didn't think I even could-"

He shocked you with the sudden overwhelming headiness of guilt he exuded. His hands weighed heavy in your lap as he sank to his knees in front of you. His head hung low looking at your belly, and ever since the word of your condition left your lips, he hadn't looked you in the eyes.

He spoke as if the child inside of you was a parasite, a disgusting abomination he had inflicted upon you.

"Please forgive me, I can remedy this. I promise you I will fix this, I won't have you suffer such a disgusting sanguisige for my own ignorance."

You slipped your hands into his thin hair, feeling it against your skin. He showed little reaction, consumed by his own prostration.

"Mortarion..."

Your brow furrowed, watching his face contort with self hated. His hands tightened on the fabric of your skirt but not enough to damage it.

"I had no intent to do this, to make you carry such a creature, I will f-" You dared to interrupt him before he continued more, the rasp of his dry throat roughing his words like the most course sandpaper.

"Tari, what is there to fix?"

He froze, looking at you confused. You tucked a piece of his hair behind his ear and smiled.

"Now that the surprise is over, i couldn't be happier." You lost that smile a bit, remembering snippets of things he's told you of his past.

"With the way you always spoke about your body, I," you made sure not to mention his name- Necare- and ruin the moment.

"I didn't know if it was possible. But," You laughed. "It is."

Mortarion looked at you wide eyed, hands still in your lap gripping your skirt. His prostrating ended as you kept talking, watching sheer disbelief cross his face. He seemed so shocked that you weren't sobbing, weren't crying for him to tear the embryo out of you before it grew and latched tighter to your body like a leech, and cursing him for the sheer gall of him to impregnate you.

In reality, you were excited.

"Recently, I've been thinking about having a baby. I wonder if it was fate. Or maybe someone telling me I'd gotten my wish and just didn't know quite yet." You brushed your palm against his cheek, watching his glassy, disbelief filled eyes gaze at you.

"I hope they look like you, Tari."

[thatesqcrush]

huh… that’s one hell of a unique craving, you know” with Barba please:)

"Do you have a bottle of sriracha stowed away in your work bag?" Rafael questioned warily over dinner at Forlini's. He was late to dinner and you decided to order ahead. Your bag was open and he could recognize the green tip from miles away.

Your eyes narrow. "Is there a problem? It's a craving."

"The fetus who is the size of a kumquat likes you putting sriracha on everything you eat?"

You stab a piece of food (covered in sriracha) with a fork. "Oh, you mean the parasite who is inhabiting my body and draining me of my own vitamins and minerals so that it can grow - the parasite that is the result of you knocking me up?"

"Don't call our baby a parasite, amor."

"Don't give me a hard time about my cravings unless you want to die," you hiss in return. "I am the size of a duplex, have to pee every 5 seconds, and am on a hormonal rollercoaster, thanks to you."

"It's just one hell of a unique craving." There's a pause, and then Rafael continues, "Have you put it on anything... not savory, like ice cream?"

You pause and then quietly reply, "I plead the fifth."

Rafael motions for the waiter. "Cancel my order; I have lost my appetite."

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Some Food Poisoning Terminology

Botulism—Life-threatening paralytic food poisoning caused by botulinum toxin from the bacterium Clostridium botulinum.

Campylobacter—A genus of bacteria that can cause food poisoning and are found in almost all raw poultry.

Clostridium perfringens—A bacterium that is a common cause of food poisoning.

Dehydration—The abnormal depletion of body fluids, as from vomiting and diarrhea.

Diuretic—Medication that increases the urine output of the body.

Electrolytes—Ions—such as sodium, potassium, calcium, magnesium, chloride, phosphate, bicarbonate, and sulfate—that are dissolved in bodily fluids and regulate or affect most metabolic processes.

Gastroenteritis—Inflammation of the lining of the stomach and intestines.

Hemolytic uremic syndrome (HUS)—Kidney failure, usually in infants and young children, that can be caused by food poisoning with bacteria such as Escherichia coli or Shigella.

Lactobacillus acidophilus—This bacterium is found in yogurt and changes the balance of the bacteria in the intestine in a beneficial way.

Listeriosis—A usually mild illness caused by food poisoning with Listeria monocytogenes, but which can be serious or fatal in newborns, the elderly, and the immunocompromised and which can cause miscarriage, stillbirth, or premature birth if contracted during pregnancy.

Norovirus—Norwalk virus; a large family of RNA viruses that is the most common cause of food poisoning.

Salmonellosis—Food poisoning by bacteria of the genus Salmonella, which usually causes severe diarrhea and may be transmitted to the fetus.

Shiga toxin-producing E. coli (STEC)—Strains of the common, normally harmless, intestinal bacteria Escherichia coli that produce Shiga toxin, causing serious food poisoning; E. coli O157:H7 is the most commonly identified STEC in North America.

Staphylococcus aureus—A bacterium that causes food poisoning.

Toxoplasma gondii—A very common parasite that can cause toxoplasmosis and is a leading cause of death from food poisoning; although it infects large numbers of people, T. gondii is usually dangerous only in immunocompromised patients and in newly infected pregnant women.

Source ⚜ More: Writing Notes & References ⚜ Poison ⚜ Fictional Poisons

[cheerfullycatholic]

Anyone else so tired of arguing about abortion? Like, I'm still just as on fire about it being banned completely and replaced with competent doctors who care about both of their patients and offering real life saving help, but the arguments are the worst

From my point of view, there's four kinds of arguments

1. The person values human life but doesn't believe that life begins at conception. You show them how it does, and they go on their way rethinking their position (very rare)

2. The person says some awfully dehumanizing, false thing about preborn babies, you ask them to explain it, and they get angry until someone gets blocked. Example;

"fetuses are parasites"

"how?"

"are you dumb? Look it up"

"you seem to know, I want your explanation"

"fuck you"

These people may or may not value human life outside of the womb, but they're so caught up in being defensive that they're not willing to listen to anything except the echo chamber they've been stuck in (Most common argument I get into and see)

3. The person is understandably concerned about abortion exceptions for high risk pregnancies. I don't mind these arguments, but these people tend to not listen when I tell them there are already life affirming solutions for both patients (second most common argument I get into)

4. The person blatantly doesn't value any human life but their own and will straight up say, proudly, "I know the fetus is a living human being, I will kill them anyway". This is the one I'm most concerned about because the only thing to argue is the value of human beings and that can't be argued. You can't force someone to not be selfish and value someone else's life, that's something they have to choose on their own, and we, people they hate, cannot help them (this one is becoming more common and it's concerning)

It's exhausting. Have any of you been in different kinds of arguments?

[chondrichthyes-x-mantodea]

No @anomalys-bane you do have a point. I have many posts that concern the reproductive process and our wording of it. It always relies on the perception of a female vessel being done to by a male catalyst. You are the machine he operates. If men are feeling gracious, they'll say you're the goddess of life or whatever bullshit, but then word it as if they grant us permission to our "power to create life." I often talk about how I am going into zoological fields and how I am invested in animal hobbies (including breeding animals). The male ego is so vast, so prevalent, that a vocabulary does not exist to properly describe this process. I try my hardest, but academically, my hands are tied. I know later on I'll be corrected for not following the science made to make men feel more important than they are. More in control than they are. More credible and powerful. Fertilization, I try to replace with conception. We now know that eggs choose sperm, but that will never be integrated into our dialog as scientists. It's been a male field, it continues to be so. Women who enter don't question, I feel as if they actually enjoy this view of themselves bestowed to them by male overlords. As for "impregnation," I try to avoid seeing pregnancy as a direct action of a male and more as a process. Conception is male, "impregnation" is not. We become pregnant when an embryo attaches to our uterus, not when a sperm enters our uterus. Pregnancy is not an action done to by the male, it is a result of two people acting together. I refuse to see it as a man putting an embryo inside of me. He ejaculates inside of a woman so his sperm can meet her egg, not so he can impregnate her. The wording makes it seem as if she has no effort in the matter, when eggs are a more complex gamete than sperm is.

Basically, our view is heavily male centered. Most things are. It's miserable being in this field.

Edit: I feel as if I should provide an explanation for my take on female creation being the wrong way of viewing gestation. You have to see the process for how it is. People on the one side must stop acting as if female bodies are tools, and people on the other side must stop glorifying the female body in an inhuman, deified way. It is neither of the two radical ideas. Females do not create life through pregnancy. Females and males create life through conception (albeit NOT sentience, this is a process, after all. Sentience is achieved by an individual after birth). A bird chick forms away from a female in an egg. The truth of pregnancy is that it closely resembles parasitism. It's not a perfect definition because it can benefit females in the case of a healthy, stable-minded female spreading her genetics (impossible in our modern society imo). However, my point is that the fetus leeches nutrients from the female body. The female body is a nutrient source, not a machine that stitches together arms, legs, and a torso. The embryo is able to build parts to its body because of the nutrients it steals. The true power of female reproduction comes from our ability to withstand this. Endurance. But males are unable to eat their pride and admit this proves our capability, so then we become either vessels or artistic creators. We can not be strong in the same sense they are.

The female body should strive to be neutral. Not an inferior, not a deity. The fact is women have had their identities repressed for so long that we have no idea how to stay in the lines of humanity. I will say, though, that the women who glorify their female bodies are much MUCH better than those who see it as inferior. It is just a nitpick I have