#she's almost 3 so like surgery isn't an option

[narwhalsdisguised]

Love my old girl so much :) she's got lots of white hairs now and I think they are so pretty

[sonic-spirit-studios]

Sonic HRT #14: what did erian say?

First - Previous - Next

^_^ Family. I love my mates so, so much. The kink etc dynamic isn't super explicit here, but yeah, my mates have a caretaker/little and mistress/slave dynamic and my dynamic with the both of them is its own thing.

Autism, bro.

I like having these domestic scenes where I'm talking to my mates about stuff. Reflects our real experiences, especially with transitioning under capitalism.

Hey, concerns about doctors blocking your necessary medical procedures! Whoa!

So when I was setting up to get top surgery, I was still working for and lived near though fortunately not with, my abusive-ass parents. I told them I was getting a "breast reduction" and they insisted I would convalesce with them. Great. While in one of the final appointments leading up to the surgery, my surgeon asked what my post surgery plans were. And was, admittedly rightfully, horror-struck at the idea of me trying to recover from surgery in my abusive-ass family's house.

However...I couldn't do anything about where I would be directly post-surgery. I had no choice. I planned to get home as soon after surgery as I could, maybe ask my friends for help if needed...but staying at my parents' was Not Something I Could Get Out Of. My surgeon was so sure her team would correctly gender me and let the secret out of the bag (this did not happen, they did not gender me correctly even once), and looked like she would cancel the whole thing unless I came out to my parents. Cuz again, I didn't have better options. I fully expected to be blowing up my life, losing my job, the whole thing. But at least I'd be able to get surgery.

I came out to my parents. Drafted a letter, went to a restaurant with two of my best friends, met my parents there, and gave them the letter. It went...it was civilized. There wasn't explosions right then. Everything was very contained. What with the public and all. The shoe didn't drop immediately.

But both of them, separately, got me alone to vent their spleens about the whole deal. My dad told me I was his "Horse riding, jean wearing, girl," and more sensitive than my sister, and therefore more girly. My mom told me that me being trans was literally "Worse than her brothers dying."

So about what I expected. Fucking horrible. Honestly, would've almost been better if they just tossed me. I wouldn't have had years more of abuse at their hands.

So yeah. Came out to my parents because my doctor pressured me in ways that jeopardized my transition (after 10 months waiting for my surgery appointment), it went predictably poorly, I still had to "recover" at their house.

Interesting post-script to that story, I apparently have a pretty good pain tolerance? I was able to drive home after about two days? And drove 40 minutes out to got out with friends at Halloween before my drains had even been removed? ^_^ That was rad.

EDIT 2024/9/12: I FORGOT ROBIN'S EAR TIP FURS IN PANEL 3 OF PAGE 4!!! Fixed, now!

[electrikworm]

Human Shield: Part 3

Crosshair waits for news on Wrecker's condition, hoping his brother's life was deemed worth saving.

Later, Wrecker wakes up, something he hadn't expected to ever do again.

Final part of my "how Wrecker got his scar" fic :)

--

Content warning: Talk about death and self-sacrifice

Excuse me for the delay, I am very good at getting distracted by other projects!

Hope you enjoy the last chapter of this fic :) It turned out longer than expected

Inspired by this post by @squad-724

Part 1 Part 2

Enjoy :)

Read on Ao3

It's been hours and still nothing. Crosshair kicks at a piece of scrap metal Tech must have dragged into their barracks, flinging it across the room.

Tech looks up from the workbench to glare at Crosshair. “Breaking things solves nothing.” He scolds, making Crosshair want to kick the damn thing again, just to piss his ori'vod off.

After their initial post mission nap, Tech started working on force knows what and hasn't moved since. Hunter's been laying down most of the time, only getting up to drink a cup of caff. Crosshair doesn't understand how they can bare to stay so still, feeling like he'll lose his mind if he doesn't move.

So Crosshair paces, not knowing what else to do. At some point, he pickes up Lula, cradling her against his chest. The soft pressure of the tooka doll in his arms is comforting and she smells like Wrecker. And besides, if Wrecker can't hold her where he is now, in surgery or a bacta tank, Crosshair might as well hold his beloved stuffed tooka for him.

Crosshair has to believe that that's where Wrecker is, in surgery or a bact tank, because the alternative is so much worse. If he isn't being treated, he'll have been decommissioned, body laying cold in one of the morgues, or already recycled and disposed of. The sniper doesn't even want to consider that option, wants to hope they'd never considering decommissioning someone as valuable as Wrecker.

But Crosshair knows how this place works. Clones have been discarded for less, it happens all the time. And as defective clones, they're all already on thin ice. If the med scanner really did miss something like organ failure or bleeding in the brain, then they might not bother trying to save Wrecker.

Crosshair sits down next to Tech, wanting to distract himself from his darkening thoughts. Wrecker's broken helmet is propped up on the table. Crosshair picks it up, twisting it to inspect the jagged edges. Wrecker's blood has dried to the inside.

“It is beyond saving.” Tech says. Crosshair hates how that statement might end up being said about their injured brother as well.

“I can karking see that.” Crosshair spits. “Why'd you take it anyway?”

“I'm not entirely sure. It felt wrong to leave it behind.”

Crosshair huffs, but he gets what Tech means. On missions, they almost exclusively see each other with their helmets on. In a way, their helmets have become almost synonymous to their faces. The now cracked helmet in Crosshair's hands is nearly as disturbing to see as the actual injuries marring Wrecker's body. Seeing him was still worse of course. Crosshair almost feels sick when he remembers the state Wrecker was in.

Suddenly he can't bare to look at the helmet any longer. Placing it down, he resumes his pacing.

Time keeps passing, and still no news. Crosshair starts trying to tidy Wreckers bunk at some point. Not all of it though. It wouldn't feel right to see Wrecker's bunk entirely neat. That would make it feel like he's gone, and Crosshair doesn't want to think about that.

“What's taking them so long?” Crosshair hisses. He can't stand all the waiting.

“I don't know Cross.” Hunter mumbles, sounding tired. He's not been taking the situation well, none of them have.

Crosshair doesn't know what he'd do if Wrecker dies. He should be prepared for this, they've been trained to accept their own and their brother's deaths since day one. But Crosshair can't get his head around the possibility of Wrecker not being there any more. The two of them are closest in age, the two youngest of Clone Force 99. Wrecker's only a few minutes older than Crosshair, a fact he's always used to piss the sniper off.

But annoying as he is, and as much as Crosshair acts like he hates it, Wrecker's always been there for him.

Anger rises in Crosshair's chest. He can't believe they're being left in the dark about this. He's just about to kick another piece of scrap across the room when the door to their barracks slides open. A member of medical staff Crosshair doesn't recognize stands in the doorway.

“Where is he?” Crosshair spits.

“CT-9903 is in a bacta tank.” The staff member says. Crosshair has to put a hand on a nearby wall, tension from the last few hours suddenly leaving his body. He can hear the shaky breath Hunter lets out from across the room. “I have also been instructed to remind you that you have yet to report anything about the mission you were on.”

“We'll get it done.” Hunter says. Crosshair hadn't even heard him approaching. He'd like to ask if they can see Wrecker, but knows the answer would be no, so he says nothing.

As the door closes again, Tech gives him a knowing look. They'll sneak out to see him later, during the night cycle. Crosshair sits down. He can wait a little longer now, reassured by the fact their brother is alive. They'll get to see him soon enough, even if it is only through a sheet of transparisteel and litres of bacta.

--

Wrecker always expected to die for his brothers sooner or later. It's a fact he made peace with early, even before they gave self-sacrifice a number on their list of plans. So naturally, he'd imagine what dying would feel like.

After hours of careful contemplation and turning the idea around in his head over and over, he came to a simple conclusion: It would hurt, and then there'd be nothing.

And Wrecker wasn't wrong. Death does hurt and is followed by nothing.

But then the pain started coming back. Sometimes less, sometimes more, but it always comes back. An the nothing starts getting replaced by memories, and dreams and, worst of all, nightmares. There's nothing to stop them now, no vode, no Lula, nothing. After all, you can't wake the dead.

Wrecker longs for the nothingness he expected, anything would be better than an eternity of nightmares and pain.

Images of his vode torment Wrecker, images of them injured and dying because he didn't execute plan 99 fast enough. That's when the light appears.

Impossibly bright, blinding, so intense it hurts. Wrecker tries to twist away from it, tries to cover his eyes. He doesn't know why. Wrecker knows he's dead, doesn't have limbs to cover the eyes that don't exist nor a body to turn away from the white light. He can't do a damn thing against what he's exposed to now.

Wrecker can't breath. Confusion and horror rise in his chest as he heaves for air. Why is he trying to breath in the first place? He's dead, shouldn't be breathing at all. But he can't get himself to stop. He just continues to wheeze and cough as he struggles to get anything into his non-existence lungs, as the blinding light refuses to dim and everything starts hurting so much worse.

He sits up, another thing he shouldn't be able to do, not in the void of bad dreams and pain he's in. Tears and spit run down his face as Wrecker claws at his chest. He just wants it all to stop, wants all the pain and uncomfortable sensations gone.

Wrecker just wants to rest.

Colour swirls in the white light surrounding him, and Wrecker almost thinks it's another dream. But they feel too close, too real, almost like he could touch them if he tried. He doesn't, however one of the splotches of colours does try, and something touches Wrecker's hand.

In an instant, Wrecker's vision focuses through the blurs of tears and pain, through the blinding light. He can't stop the sob that forces its way out of his throat as he recognizes those before him.

Crosshair, Hunter and Tech.

“No, no no no...” Wrecker mutters as he backs away from them. They shouldn't be here, they shouldn't be dead! His brothers say things, their faces twisted in emotions Wrecker can't read. All he can do is uselessly gasp for air. He failed them, failed to live up to his purpose. Wrecker let them die.

“'m sorry.” Wrecker forces out between clenched teeth and failed attempts to breath. He hopes they're not hurting like he is, he hopes the pain is his punishment alone. As hard as he tries, Wrecker can't get a coherent string of words out. He wants to tell his vode how sorry he is for letting them down, that he tried his hardest even if it wasn't enough, that he wishes they were alive. It all comes out barely audible over his continuos struggle for air he doesn't need.

When Tech grabs him by the shoulder, Wrecker almost wishes his brother would hit him. Anger at his failure would be understandable, Wrecker can deal with anger. It's all he deserves for letting his squad down when they needed him most.

Instead, Tech shakes him almost gently. “Would you stop apologizing and listen for a karking second?” Tech almost does sound angry, if it weren't for the way his voice nearly gives out. “We're not dead, and neither are you.”

Wrecker doesn't say another word. Not because he doesn't want to apologize further, because he really doesn't think he's brought across just how sorry he is. It's the fact that Wrecker can't get his brain to understand what Tech is trying to tell him that gets the large clone to shut his mouth.

“Calm down Wrecker!” Hunter orders, a clear urgency to his voice. Wrecker is suddenly very aware of how loud his frantic breathing is. This time, he does manage to silence it, the white room suddenly oppressively quiet.

“Don't hold your breath, di'kut! Breathe.” Crosshair takes Wrecker's hand and presses it to his chest. Wrecker can feel his little brother inhaling, tries to match his own intake of air to Crosshair's. This is something Wrecker can do, it's hardly the first time they've had to resort to something like this. It takes a while for Wrecker's lungs to stop burning, but as they do, and Wrecker's head starts to clear, Tech's words start making sense.

Crosshair is breathing, he feels warm to the touch, his heart is beating. He feels alive, is alive . Fresh tears stream down Wrecker's face. It hurts to move, but Wrecker doesn't care, desperately needing to hold one of his brothers immediately.

“Stop squirming about, mir'osik!” Crosshair hisses, putting a hand on Wrecker's chest. There's an astonishing lack of venom to his words. “They only just fished you out of a bacta tank.”

“Don't care.” Wrecker takes hold of Crosshair's arm and drags him into a hug. White hot pain flares along the entirety of Wrecker's right side, but it's still the best thing Wrecker's felt in what seems like an eternity. His brothers are alive, that's all that matters.

“You should care.” Tech says. “Your bones have barely fused and there are still more bandages on you then there is exposed skin. If I am entirely honest, you should not be sitting up in the first place.”

If Tech doesn't want Wrecker to sit up, he'll lay down. He pulls Crosshair onto the bed as he does so. Crosshair complains loudly, surprisingly enough not about Wrecker hugging him, but about the fact Wrecker shouldn't be putting more weight on his injuries. Once Wrecker moves to the side to let Crosshair lay beside him, the sniper stops making a fuss.

Wrecker can make out that they're in a medbay now. If the look wouldn't give it away, the sharp smell of antiseptic is telling enough. Wrecker's glad his brothers are with him, he doubts he could stand the cold room alone.

Metallic screeching makes Wrecker aware of Hunter and Tech pushing one of the other beds up to Wrecker's. They're definitively not supposed to be doing that, but Wrecker won't complain. Two beds side to side, Tech and Hunter climb up on the empty one. Wrecker slings his arm across both of them, ignoring the way his body aches at the movement.

“Careful.” Tech warns. “You sustained multiple fractures in that arm, as well as your legs. It would be highly inconvenient for you to disturb the breaks.” Wrecker nods weakly.

“You're blind and death on the right side.” Crosshair sounds sad, apologetic.

Wrecker gingerly touches his face, hand brushing against thick bandages. “I thought things looked and sounded kinda funny.” Wrecker says with a laugh, making his chest sting horribly. His vode don't laugh, much to Wrecker's disappointment.

“We brought you someone.” Crosshair pulls Lula out from where she'd already been squished between them. A wide smile spreads on Wrecker's face, tugging painfully at the injured side of his face.

“Lula!” Wrecker takes the tooka doll from his brother carefully. “You kept her!” He holds her to his face for a moment, relishing the feeling of the familiar soft material against his skin, before tucking her between himself and Crosshair again.

“Kept her? Why wouldn't we keep her?” Hunter's face pinches in confusion.

“You know...” Wrecker says, waiting for them to guess what he's saying. They don't, so he continues. “If I died...”

“You think we'd get rid of her if you died?” Crosshair sounds so genuinely angry, Wrecker almost flinches away from him.

“I hoped you wouldn't...” Wrecker says, playing with Lula's ear to avoid looking at his vode.

“Maybe you did take brain damage, if you think we'd just get rid of your stuff like you never existed.” Crosshair still sounds angry, but Wrecker spots tears threatening to spill across his cheeks. Wrecker pulls Crosshair closer. He didn't want to make his brother cry.

“I'm sorry it took us so long to get to you.” Hunter says. He looks pained. Wrecker's chest aches at the sight, and he tries to pull him into a hug as well.

“What do you mean?”

Hunter swallows thickly. “We, I, made the decision to leave you under the rubble in favour of the mission. You almost died.” Hunter shakes his head. “Maybe your eye and ear could have been saved if I hadn't made that decision.”

Wrecker runs and uncoordinated hand through Hunter's hair, messing it up. “Eh, forget about it. I wasn't planning to make it out of there alive. This is a good surprise either way, missing organs or not.”

“If you try something like that again, I'll kill you myself.” Tech says, glaring at Wrecker half-heartedly.

Wrecker laughs at his brother's words, hugging his vode just a little tighter, but doesn't say anything. He knows, and he's sure his brother's know too, that if it comes down to it, Wrecker won't hesitate to call plan 99 again. He's glad to be alive, to get a bit more time, but the fact still remains: Plan 99 is Wrecker's duty and one day, it will be the last thing he does.

[bloodanddiscoballs]

Alright I said I was gonna make a sappy post for my 30th birthday so here it goes!:

I never thought I would live to see 30. I know that many people say that, and I'm sure that sentiment isn't unique on here. Here's the thing; I'm disabled. I have almost died due to my health 3 times since 2011 and indeed did once before being brought back. My immune system is nonexistent, and my chronic pain has me at currently 6 reconstructive back surgeries and round the clock pain medication.

When I was 17 years old, I became a victim of medical malpractice and had my entire life changed in an instant. Didn't get to go off to college, didn't get to work normally, didn't get to move out - didn't, didn't, didn't. For years, I was told that I would heal. That I would be fine. I was young! Young people don't get sick. I'll bounce back. Just be patient. But I didn't get better, I got worse. And every year older was another year into my 20s where I wasn't able to do "the normal stuff." I never finished college, but I did get some classes done. I would work for a few months before needing to quit. I got married and then divorced. All "failures" due to my health.

At 27, I went to see my therapist and sat down and told her that I couldn't see into my future. I remember telling her, "Every day is hell. I can't do this for another 10 years. I've barely made it through this last 10. I don't even know if I can do it for another 3." I was at the end of my rope, convinced that I wouldn't make it. My back was crumbling underneath me again, and insurance was fighting me tooth and nail to be approved for another surgery. I was bedridden. I was on the highest medication load I've taken, and it wasn't even touching my pain. I wasn't connected to anything - not my art, not friends, not the world around me. I was looking very seriously at my options of what I thought was either suffering or dying.

So, she suggested a mindfulness program. It was a 6-week course at UCSD (University of California San Diego) that taught you how to. essentially, live in the moment. At first, I thought it was honestly the stupidest thing I'd ever heard. I'll admit that I was sour on it, but I said I would try it and I paid for the class so I did it. I sat through the meditations, wrote on the topics they gave, went through the exercises they instructed, and did the full day retreat. And at the end of those 6 weeks, I was alive again. I learned to savor every bite of my food. I learned how to pay attention to the sun on my skin. I learned to enjoy how it felt to have my air move in and out of my lungs. I learned how to look in the mirror and love what I saw and dress myself in what made me happy (this is when I started with the disco clothes). The warm feel of skin, the taste of my favorite soda, the beautiful way my cat purrs, the glorious smell of rain, the lovely way dust looks illuminated by the sun - I learned how to Live.

My life is still hard. My pain has not improved. I did get that surgery, so now my back is thankfully more stable than it's ever been. I know that I probably won't live a very long time compared to most, but none of that makes me sad anymore, not really. I have my bad days, and I have my good days, and no matter what, I live in the moment. I feel my emotions and let them have their space within me before letting them flow. And after over a decade of not touching my art because I felt like it was robbed from me, I paint now. I paint for myself, and I paint for others, and by God, I enjoy every second of it. I feed the little barn cats out in the back of where I live now, and I love them. I enjoy the sound of the wind through the oak trees, and I listen to my music, and I take pictures of the bugs. I watch the clouds race by when it's about to storm, and I talk to the flowers that grow outside my fence. I love my bed for holding me on my bad days and love that I have pretty artwork from friends hanging on my walls to comfort me when I can't leave my room. I dress up in my fun disco stuff whenever I can, and on the days I can't, I enjoy my soft, comfy pj's. I talk to my friends online every day and apologize for the days I can't when my pain makes it too hard to think. I play fun video games and watch good movies and enjoy fun podcasts. I Live.

Today, I am 30 years old. I have lived through what should have killed me many times over. And I am so, so happy I am here. And for however long I have, I will continue to live in the moment, enjoying the days and moments I can and allowing the bad to simply be bad. I plan for tomorrow because that is all I can plan for.

I live, and that is enough.

[masschase]

“#gooh is in my top 5 “i question writing this into my hc” things gonna be honest” i would honestly LOVE to know what things you hesitate to include in your canon? one thing i really love and respect about your work is your dedication to sticking to the actual canon so i’m super curious to hear what things you actually don’t consider part of it. or at least the ones you go back and forth on.

OK firstly, thank you, that means a lot to me 😊

There probably isn't anything that isn't a part of it at all unless I forgot about it which does happen pretty often! Things I go back and forth on is definitely the best description of it.  Like, almost all have led me to write some moments I really like and yeah I am proud of making the canon (at least the bits I didn't forget!) fit, but I feel like when I started writing I didn't even think about just *not* sticking to canon. This list is not ordered or exhaustive, it's just the stuff I could think of off the top of my head.

1. GOOH. This is actually a kind of minor one, bc the pros outweigh the cons massively but it's been on my mind today bc of the chapter I've been writing.

Pros: a very sweet Matt/Boss moment and Matt/Boss/Johnny friendship moment after they return from hell, throwing in Jezebel as a character, and obviously the new planet ending is sort of essential to my "they tried to save the earth but couldn't so now they need somewhere new" thing. Plenty of smaller jokes and again some other good parts that factor in.

Cons: so this is actually stuff that just canonises monotheistic religious views that my characters wouldn't normally hold that makes me feel... weird... idk. I feel like they have enough time between GOOH and my fanfic to process that but I was thinking about it today and it bothered me. GOOH also canonizes Matt and Asha sleeping together in some capacity... ok that's not so bad, it adds some depth to the storyline and stops them having unresolved sexual/romantic tension as implied in SRIV. But at times I worry I'm portraying one or both of them as pretty dickish.

2. All SRIV romance options

Pros: I mean, Casey probably would fuck all her friends if it was the only option. And I hc SRIV as taking place over 2-3 months. After that time-travel ONSs were an option. And her whole one time rule has its place in the plot.

Cons: Kind of forces everyone into bi/pan/other mspec apart from Ben and Keith. I would have highly considered making Pierce gay. Maybe Asha would've got thrown token straight lol. Plus who says everyone (again, except Ben, who... seemed like he would say yes to whatever she was about to ask... and Keith) would fuck her? Seems a tad Mary-Sueish. 🤔 Also doesn't gel well with her and Johnny having a primarily brother/sister relationship but I think I've mostly explained that with her having a false romantic epiphany and the fact that he struggles to connect 'hot 30ishyo woman who I massively respect' with 'that kid i knew back in Stilwater' after the 6 year gap. Plus... romance options aren't really true canon, I definitely could have left some out! But considering I did use them all, I could've said better things about the Casey/Pierce time bc that was a culmination of a lot of UST.

3. Cyrus Temple plastic surgery disguise thing.

Pros: definitive 'end date' for Casey getting plastic surgery for scars etc.; it put her off. One amusing joke.

Cons: Idk I just hate it hate it hate it. I think because a lot of game mechanics are easily explainable e.g. forgive&forget and notoriety wipe being bribes, an advanced alien race COULD have time travel etc. whereas this is something that's pretty batshit by SR3 standards but mostly at the expense of like two moments I COULD'VE JUST NOT MENTIONED IT. So if this list was in order I suspect this would be #1 😂

4. The destruction of Earth; or more specifically that they don't/can't undo the destruction of Earth despite having time travel.

Pros: I mean it's inkeeping with the Saints for me. Some people do just die and don't come back. The idea that the new planet thing is moving on from something irretrievable. A new beginning.

Cons: It just feels like a cop out using the 'oh they have time travel but can't use it to save the world bc that's a paradox' thing?

5. Matt and Casey's age gap.

Pros: The millenial/zoomer dynamic, parallels being drawn i.e. joining/creating gangs at 15, Casey being 24 when they met and Matt being 24 when the story begins. I guess relationships where the woman is older are also underepresented compared to the reverse, and being able to give Matt a "coma years don't count" line.

Cons: Idk just on a personal level obviously I'd just prefer them NOT to have a 7.5 year gap. I make it clear that she wasn't ever attracted to him until he was 22 and that the spaceship changes things in terms of life stages but still.

Bonus of some things that were my own decision that I go back and forth on: the name Casey Clark at times (there is a whole thing of 'bc she is secretly a nerd like Matt/Kinzie but she's an analog nerd' but still), Matt being (at least based on his own history) heteroromantic (ok supports split model of attraction but at the same time... Matt to me reads as a canonically bisexual character which we don't often get, why not make him bi/panromantic too?), Casey and Johnny's brother/sister thing in general (idk if that was trying too hard to make them platonic bc generally I rather like GatBoss), writing in accents, not giving enough focus to the secondary pairings esp the more visibly queer ones all bc I originally wanted to keep secondary pairings up in the air for the reader, Casey's SR3 look at times, POSTING HER NAME ALL OVER FUCKING TUMBLR. I could go on 😅

This all seems more negative than I'm meaning it to be bc I put pros first. I love working in the canon and the way plot points have blossomed from it. In fact I put something at the end of my last chapter about how things for this often just fall into place and just leave me 😲.

I will probably make a second list at some point when I think of more 😅

[mysterious-foxes]

@womaninsidewater reblogging here because I'm not going to read your 7-10 dumbass memes (or subject my followers to it) that are no doubt full of misinformation and most likely have nothing to do with what I said.

So you're against abortion being legal, but you don't want it to be illegal? You do realize that there's not an in-between of legal vs illegal, right? Decriminalization means it's still illegal, but the charges are less (generally more like a fine, but you can't go to jail for it). Due to the 9th ammendment in the US, anything that is not specified by the law to be illegal, is legal. And obviously any specified by the law to be legal is legal. So you have to be on one side or the other (or not care about the legality at all). So if you're against abortion being legal, then you're for abortion being illegal and vice versa.

Simply making abortion legal doesn't mean the government is controlling someone's body. Like walking being legal doesn't mean the government is controlling your body. Heart surgery being legal doesn't mean the government is controlling your body.

I literally said that herbal abortifacients were one of the many things used. Those are included in concoctions 🤦🏻‍♀️ but just because they're herbal doesn't mean that they're safe.

PP's abortions are extremely safe. There's always a risk of complications. I hope that your friend's girlfriend has reached out to PP or her doctor because bleeding that heavily for so long is unusual after an abortion. But did you know that the total complication rate is at 2%? This means that medication abortion is safer than taking viagra. This also means that abortion is a LOT safer than continuing pregnancy, in which the high risk only complication rate is at 8%. Not to mention that for every 1 person that does from abortion, more than 4 people die from continuing pregnancy. This isn't to say that nobody should continue pregnancy and give birth. Of course they should if that's what they want to do. However, abortion is the safer option.

PP doesn't actually twist their statistics. Did you know that not all of their locations even perform abortions? PP doesn't even perform half the amount of abortions in the US every year. I'm sorry if propoganda has fooled you into thinking otherwise. I mean abortion is only 3% of what PP does. They do a LOT more than abortion. I know people who have found out they have cancer because they went in for a screening. People who have learned about sex and contraceptives because the state I live in doesn't allow those to be taught in schools. People who have gotten contraceptives for free. People who go there for pap smears because they don't have insurance and they can get it done for cheap (if not free).

As far as sex trafficking and PP goes, there have been a couple of cases. And when that happened, PP upped their training in general as well as made those employees go through even more training (if not fired them).

Yes, the people who went undercover got arrested because they broke the law. PP was also awarded $2.2 million in damages. This is because they weren't doing anything illegal. In fact, what they were doing was DONATING fetal tissue to science and would receive compensation from the government for expenses regarding storing and shipping the tissue.

Abortion isn't an industry any more than kidney failure is an industry 🤷🏻‍♀️ do you even know what an industry is? An industry is "economic activity concerned with the processing of raw materials and manufacture of goods in factories." In an abortion, they're not processing raw materials or manufacturing goods. In an abortion, they're providing healthcare.

Abstinence is a personal choice and you have no room to be concerned with someone else's sex life.

Personhood is a philosophical idea and has no room in the abortion debate, just like religion (I'm not saying you used religion at all to make your point, I was just making a point).

And yes, understanding how contraceptives work, how bodily autonomy and consent work, being able to afford to take care of yourself (let alone a child), being able to afford a roof over your head, etc will reduce abortion a ton. Too bad most people against abortion tend to also be against most (if not all) of those things.

I literally agreed with you that fetuses aren't a parasite. Did you not read what I said? Along with that I said that ZEF's aren't infants, yet almost all anti choicers seems to think they are.

Next time, try to respond to what I actually said rather than repeating a claim I agreed with and leaving a bunch of memes (because that was the stupidest way to respond to an argument ever) that probably had nothing to do with anything. You wanna post those memes? Do it on a separate post rather than in response to me.

I don't know enough about Gloria Steinem, so if someone wants to confirm whether she was a rad fem or not, that would be much appreciated

[happyhearthy]

My Birth Story

Trigger warning: trauma, c-section, preterm labor, NICU

I want this to be the last time for a while that I write my birth story. I need it to be witnessed, for people to read it knowing this is the reality for so many mamas due to our toxic American birth culture. I want to be strong and fight for mamas who are treated as a human vessel and not as a whole sacred body mind and spirit who brings life into the world!

I was a pregnant woman, lost in my spirituality due to juggling all of the expectations placed on me. I didn't have time for myself, I was working my ass off to be taken seriously in a high-risk career and also entering my third trimester of pregnancy. When the full moon came, a Friday evening, and the ongoing regular contractions were hitting every 10 minutes, I finished up my shift at work and drove myself to the hospital. I was 33 weeks pregnant. I knew the signs of preterm labor and I knew there was something they could do to stop it if it was caught early enough.

The hospital put me in a room. It didn't seem urgent to them, after all I was handling my "apparent" contractions well. Once a nurse came in and confirmed my suspected contractions I was told they would administer a test called an FFN that would determine if I was really in labor - after all the test is 99% accurate. I sat for three hours, and then was told... Negative. You're not in labor, you won't be for another two weeks minimum. You are not at risk for preterm labor. See your doctor on Monday if you're still feeling discomfort.

I was sent home. I believed the doctor that told me there was no medical emergency. I believed the doctor that told me I wasn't in labor. But the contractions rocked my world, they were intense and I couldn't help but moan when they came. I told my husband to go to bed, I'm not in labor. I told my boss I would have her reports completed but wondered how the fuck I would work through the pain I thought wound never end. I told my mom to not bother to come see me to comfort me; the baby isn't coming (but also; is this what being pregnant is supposed to feel like, mom? Why does it hurt so bad?) I reconsidered my plan to have a natural birth, after all was I really strong enough if I couldn't even handle the pain of fake contractions? My dream of experiencing labor as a profound spiritual event was suddenly collapsing. I was so, so afraid in that dark moment.

Morning came and I was losing my ability to hold back the screams of pain that shot through me every 3-4 minutes. My husband wanted to go run errands, it was the weekend and we had shit to do. But I was afraid to be left alone. I was caving, and suddenly I knew I had to go back to the hospital. The hospital that told me not to come back because I am not in labor.

I texted my mom again "heading to the hospital, but don't clock out of work early. Baby isn't coming."

I fell to me knees in the lobby, and a woman in the waiting room ran to find me a wheel chair. I was embarrassed, she didn't even work for the hospital. I just wanted to explain to her that nothing was wrong but I couldn't form words. Eventually I was wheeled into a room and a nurse looked at me. She remembered me from the night before so she was in no hurry to check me out. Then she did.

"You're 6cm dilated. Your baby will be here in an hour."

An hour?

"By C-section. Your baby is in frank breech position. There's no time to consider any other option, he's coming. The steroids won't have time to take effect."

And then suddenly I was being prepped to have my baby removed from me. I focused on my husband, he has anxiety and I thought he might puke. To my relief, I was the one puking. One slice across my sacral chakra and a good tug and he was out. They placed him on a tray and took him to the NICU and me to recovery. I saw a blur of purple and heard a cry. Apgar score: 3.

After that, I was placed in a room and family came pouring in to see the baby. "He's in the NICU, I can't take you to go see him but (my husband) can take you!" One by one they saw him, my sister in law took a selfie with her new nephew, "He opened his eyes for me!" Writing this now I feel like vomiting again.

Ten hours later the nurses told me I could try to walk, and if I could walk I could go meet my son. I told them I would cartwheel off that fucking bed. Recovery from major abdominal surgery is no joke. But I didn't want to be trapped to my bed, the child I had been growing inside me was gone.

I was a NICU parent. I was told I needed to pump milk every 2-3 hours to send in vials for feeding. On the second day I was allowed to hold him. On the third day, I was most certainly not allowed to hold him. On the fourth day I was discharged, to my home a 20 minute drive away (but of course I was unable to drive due to the surgery.) There was a storm the night I was discharged and the power went out, I had to stay at a friends house in order to pump milk. I had to crash at another friends house between visits, where I collapsed on her bed because I was so tired. I had to struggle to learn to breastfeed, but my son's caretakers told me "he really does much better with a bottle, do you want to cause an episode?" He was in the NICU for 23 days, we were really lucky he was so big and strong for his gestational age. I was told how lucky we were that he was alive.

For 18mo I thought about my son's birth every day. I blamed myself for my lapse in intuition. How could I have not known I was in labor? How could I have trusted the doctor? Why didn't I stand up for myself? Then, I blamed the hospital. I blamed the nurse for not checking to see if I was dilated. I blamed that negative test. I blamed the patriarchy! I was the victim of a grave injustice against womanhood and it almost killed my son and I! I was so angry, and I felt so sorry for myself.

But it changed me in a lot of ways that were necessary. After 11 months I quit my job, which was me finally moving on from the person I thought I would become. Suddenly I had no direction in life. I was alone with my son and alone with my thoughts. Things were stagnant, and then they got a little worse and then they got much, much better. I gained a new perspective on myself, and on my role as a mother and a person on this earth.

I finally release the role of victim from my identity. I do not want to be a person that something terrible happened to. I am a person who reclaimed my power when it was taken for me. I saved my life and my son's life. I stood up from the place where I was abandoned and I walked away from it, and now we are thriving.