#the fetus’s body will be its own once it is no longer a part of the mother. do u see what i am saying?

[lesbianlenas]

this article im reading gives such an interesting perspective on the idea of the fetus as a separate entity from the mother

the idea of fetal personhood inherently hinges on the idea of believing that a fetus is a separate entity from the mother. the reality is that it is a part of a woman's body just as any other part of a woman's body is. photos of the fetus in the womb give an illusion of separateness from the mother as if it is free floating in space rather than a temporary part of a woman's body. if we viewed the fetus solely for what it is i think it would be much easier for many to reconcile a woman's choice to get an abortion or to prioritize the woman when it comes to medical emergencies during pregnancy. there is a part of my body that is harming me (either physically or mentally) and i do not want it there because of that. we don't view internal organs as having personhood and if there are causing distress to the body they are removed or otherwise dealt with to fix the issue. a fetus is inseparable from the mother until birth in the same way any body part is inseparable from the body. technology has VASTLY played a role in creating this disconnect not only from being able to view the fetus as a solo entity but also in that it is pushing the limits of viability more and more. in the cases where the mother wants to view the fetus as a baby and wants it that is a good thing. but that should not be forced onto any woman and it shouldn't be the choice of anyone else to decide that no. you WILL be forced to have this baby bc there is a slight chance we can make it survive outside of you if you were to give birth to it at this point despite the fact that it is meant to be a piece of your body until it becomes ready to separate from you. the personhood of women requires the acknowledgement that a fetus is not a person until it becomes one through detaching from the mother and being born. fr!

[a-pretty-nerd]

Self Indulgent Shigaraki Nonsense Part 5

Tomura Shigaraki x pregnant!reader

A/N: Oh wow part 5 and I'm still not done with this.

Warnings: Emotions? Cursing?

You tossed and turned in your sleep, groaning and moaning in frustration. Your joint ached, and fatigue plagued your body. You tried everything you could to get to sleep but nothing was working and on top of your aching body, the nearly fully developed fetus in you thought now was the perfect time for exercise.

Tomura laid beside you, having fallen asleep hours ago. But your movement and sounds of anguish gently woke him up. Groggy and a little frustrated he looked over his shoulder to see your upset form shift back and forth.

"Is it the baby?" He asked in a low, hoarse voice. You huffed.

"Everything hurts and they keep moving around and I'm exhausted but I can't fall asleep!" You cried. You felt silly crying like this to Tomura, you felt like a little kid throwing a tantrum. Weren't you supposed to be the mild mannered, mature and wise mother?

Tomura turned over to face you, his gloved hand reaching out and planting firmly on your enlarged belly. He gently ran circles around it, trying to sooth the mysterious being inside. He had grown used to this routine, grown used to the idea of you being pregnant. But the idea of being father and actually having a baby was still out of his reach. For now, he was content to have you tucked away and all to himself where he knew you would be safe.

"My fucking BONES hurt." You complained as you rubbed circles into your eyes. He chuckled at your declaration for a moment before wrenching himself from the bed and shuffling into the kitchen where you could hear him rustling about. You laid there and closed your eyes, trying to emulate the soothing sensation of rubbing circles across your belly. They clearly liked it better when Tomura did it. You didn't even know how they knew the difference.

"Here." Tomura entered the room with a hot cup of tea in hand. He sat it down on your bedside table as you struggled to sit up properly. You laid against the head board and slowly took the mug. "Careful. It's still hot." He noted, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Thank you."

"Mhm." He watched you blow and sip on the tea, running his gloved hand up and down your calf.

"This is new." You scoffed.

"What?"

"You taking care of me." You smiled.

"What are you talking about? I've taken care of you before. Remember Jaku?"

"Ugh, I don't want to." You cringed. A particularly rough battle had left you broken and beaten black and blue. If it wasn't for Tomura, you would have been dead. But that was before you knew he loved you. Before you knew you loved him. "You're right you have taken care of me. But not like this before." Your smiled made him blush.

"This is a different situation." He explained. You chuckled.

"I know." You finished your tea and he took it from you to put the mug in the kitchen sink. But before he left the room you called to him. "Hey...Tomura?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you."

"Sure."

"No. Really. Thank you. For everything." He watched you for a moment, engraving that sweet smile of yours into his brain forever. Before nodding and walking back to the kitchen. You adjusted yourself, laying back down and watching him come back in and lay in bed. You watched him, your hand reaching up to gently scratch down his bare back. A comforting gesture he loves but will never out right ask for. It put him to sleep quick, and soon you followed him.

When you woke up the next morning, you found yourself alone in bed. You struggled to get up to use the bathroom and wash your face before waddling into the kitchen. A note had been placed over wads of cash on the kitchen counter. The note read:

I'm sorry there was an emergency and I had to leave early this morning. I left money on the counter for breakfast. Take it easy. I'll see you soon. I love you.

- Tomura

Money for breakfast? You looked down at the wads of 20 dollar bills and giggled. Tomura still had very little grasp when it came to money. He just never had to really worry about it. It's not that he wasn't good at budgeting or math, but, this was enough to pay the mortgage and groceries for the rest of the month. Some breakfast you'd be having. You took the cash and put it away where the rest of it went. You were to pay for everything in cash. The mortgage, the car payments, groceries, furniture, absolutely everything. As if that didn't make you look suspicious enough. But Tomura insisted on it because it wouldn't leave a paper trail to your name.

Your new name would have no debt no credit, nothing. It had to be perfect and unremarkable.

You fed, washed, and clothed yourself which took all morning now but finally you made up your mind to take a short walk to the local grocery store and do some shopping. Normal house wife shit, right?

So you waddled your fat ass out the door to take a leisurely stroll all the way to the super market. You looked up and watched grey clouds gently float above, bringing a cool breeze and the faint smell of rain in the air. You made it to the store before it started to sprinkle. The bright and fresh atmosphere of the store made you uneasy. Public spaces still made you feel out of place. Suspicious. Like you still had to hide.

You paused in the middle of an aisle, sudden movement stopping you dead in your tracks. The baby had been moving less, and the false contractions had started. Your midwife had taught you that this was normal, you still weren't due for a while longer, there was no need to worry. But they were a big pain in the ass.

You held your belly and took a deep breath. It soon passed and you went back to searching for your grocery list.

"First one?" A voice asked. You turned and found a young woman standing there pushing a stroller. She gave a friendly smile.

"Oh, yes."

"How exciting. I had a lot of false contractions with my first too. How far along are you?"

"I guess about, eight months. Give or take a week or two."

"You sure look it. I'm kim by the way, nice to meet you." She held out a hand and you shook it. Her bright smile and relaxed attitude bring comfort and warmth. You looked down to the stroller, an infant cradled towards Kim, and an absent-minded toddler glaring at the floor sat in the front. He angrily pouted at the ground, before his gaze slowly came up to you.

"Nice to meet you, I'm Y/-...." fuck! What was your new name again? You almost blew your cover. "Ota." You remembered. Thank God.

"Your the new family down the road aren't you?" Kim nodded in recognition.

"Yeah, yeah. How long have you lived here?" You tried to make conversation.

"Oh I've lived here all my life."

"Wow."

"Yeah my husband and I met in high school here and been together ever since. He travels for work now though, so,"

"My husband travels too." You told her. Shit. Was that the right thing to say? Could you really call Shigaraki your, husband? What would he think about that? He'd probably be irritated you even bothered to socialize at all.

"Oh really? What does he do?" You paused.

"Uh, he works closely with heroes." You croaked.

"Oh like management er' whatever?" She was so nonchalant.

"Yeah, yeah. Real boring stuff." You agreed. 'Er' whatever' what a great way to put it.

"Yeah mine's a lawyer for cities suffering from 'big hero blow-outs' they call em'. He works with cities about destruction of public property and what not. I don't really know the details or anything but hey, maybe our guys have crossed paths a couple times! What did you say his name was?" Shit. Shit. Shit.

"Uh, Ota. Ota Kurai." You lied.

"Kurai...huh..." Kim thought for a moment, taking in a deep breath and sighing. "Well, that doesn't ring any bells. How long have you been together." Was this something you were supposed to lie about?

"Five years now, I think." You pondered.

"You think?" She chuckled at you.

"Yeah, it's hard to remember sometimes. All of a sudden we went from friends to more. Its difficult to explain." She smiled.

"Yeah, I understand. Well, I better be off. The boys need a nap before lunch. It was lovely meeting you, Ota."

"Likewise!" You smiled back.

"See you around."

"See ya." And with you that you went on shopping, a successful venture. You were lucky you were able to purchase an umbrella in the store, it was really coming down now. You waddled along the sidewalk, making your way back to the stretch of suburbs you occupied. As you walked the final stretch to your home, the wind began to pick up. Violently wrenching the umbrella out of your hand and throwing it behind you. You turned, panicked and now vulnerable to the heavy rain. It came down fast and hard, the droplets almost painful on your skin.

You turned around to find your umbrella flying through the air, tumbling over to a distant figure. A young man, no, a teenager. The kid snapped to attention, jogging for the object from under his own umbrella and quickly making his way back to you. You tensed up, the weight of your groceries, the rain, your condition. Clearly you were in distress. You cursed yourself. You were once a feared villain. You fought the greatest heroes Japan had to offer and lived to tell the tale. You were an activist, pioneer, warrior, leader. You had the scars to prove it. And now look at you. A helpless, pregnant house wife.

"Here miss!" The boy called. You sniffed and reached for it as he handed it to you.

"Thanks!" You barked, trying to shuffled off without anymore talk.

"Let me help you with that!" He insisted, taking your groceries from you and shielding you from anymore rain. You were soaked by now. You couldn't argue, he insisted and you had to admit that the help was nice. He walked you home, standing and waiting at your house's gate as you took back your bags from him.

"Thank you for your help." You tried to be polite.

"Sure thing miss. No trouble. Are you sure you got it?"

"Yes. Thank you." You insisted, turning back to disappear into your home. Only to find the front door open. You let out a startled gasp. A familiar figure stood in the doorway, dark eyes glaring at the boy behind you. Your eyes shuffled back and forth between him and the boy. Shigaraki wore a painfully mediocre disguise. A face mask, and a black wig. From far away he easily blended into a crowd. He was always good at hiding himself in a strange way. He was an oddly good actor.

"Sara. You should be more careful." He barked your fake name in a fake tone. Like he was a concerned husband.

"Sorry Kurai, I didn't think the storm would get this bad." You chuckled in a panic. He approached you, averting his gaze from the boy. Hiding his face and taking the bags from you. You turned back to the boy who's eye shifted from Shigaraki then back to you. "Thank you for your help. Here." You shuffled around in your purse before handing him a few hundred yen.

"Oh no Mrs, really it's fine."

"No. I insist." You huffed with a smile.

"Thank you. My names Sato by the way, I live just down the road."

"Nice meeting you Sato." You smiled and closed the gate before waddling back inside. You closed the door behind you, panting as you recovered from your adventure.

You watched Tomura remove his disguise in a frustrated huff before putting the groceries away. You leaned against the wall after shuffling into the kitchen, leaving water to fall from you and pool on the wood floor. Soon he turned to look back at you.

"I thought there was an emergency."

"False alarm." He muttered.

"Are you mad at me?" You asked. He paused and gave a frustrated huff.

"...I told you not to get friendly with people. That puts you in danger." You scoffed. "You're soaking wet, you better shower off before you catch a cold."

"I didn't have a choice, okay? It's not like I sought out his help! He was just there, he insisted he help! And yknow what, I can't say I didn't need it. Because I'm incapable of doing anything apparently!" You shouted. Oh shit. He angered you. You could see it in his eyes. He hates it when you get angry, it makes him uneasy. "And I'm a walking beacon of chit chat too! Everyone wants to talk to the new pregnant lady. Last week, I had fend off like four old ladies from touching my belly. And the week before that, the clerk at the bookstore kept trying to sell me these weirdly religious parenting books. And- And today even! Today some other mom stopped me to talk about my false contractions at the store and I almost forgot our names and I- I-" You're crying now. He hates seeing you crying more than he hates seeing you angry. He slowly approached you, watching as you sniffled and sobbed and wipped away your tears.

"Come on, let's get you comfortable." He guided you to the bathroom to help bathe you in a warm bath to calm your nerves and ease your aching body. You shuffled out into the living room, the warmth of your pajamas easing your tense feelings.

"She wasn't that bad." You mumbled.

"Hm?"

"The other mom at the grocery store today. She was actually nice. She has two boys. She was really chill."

"Mh."

"I told her you worked in management with heroes and you travel a lot." You chuckled to yourself. "Her husband works as a lawyer for cities regarding damage from heroes. She said you might have crossed paths." Tomura pause and flashed a goofy smile.

"You never know. Maybe we have." He joked. You laughed for a moment before finishing your bath and getting changed.

"How come you came back?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well usually you stay away. But you've been here so long I figured you'd have left by now so you don't take any chances getting caught. Why'd you come back?" Tomura starred at your stomach and placed his gloved hand over it before looking up at you.

"I'm just finishing a few preparations. But I've made plans so that I'll be able to stay longer than I usually do." He didn't answer your question.

"Plans? Like what?"

"Don't worry about it."

"Don't tell me you put Dabi in charge." He scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Toga? No!... Spinner!?"

"Y/N. Please." He begged.

"Sorry. But you never leave someone else in charge."

"Well now I have a reason. I'm...I'm taking a few months."

"What? But what about your work?"

"I'm not quiting. I'm still the true ruler. It's just a small...vacation. I can go back at any time if an emergency occurs. But for now, I'm staying here."

"You really miss me, don't you?" He pulled his hand away and rolled his eyes one more time before strolling away.

"Of course I miss you." He said it like it was a well known fact. "I miss you every second. I miss working with you. It's so frustrating without you. You understand, you got it. You always knew what needed to be done, what I was trying to do. Now it's like herding cats to get the simplest of tasks done sometimes. I mean you- you were always one step ahead. Half the time I didn't even need to ask you to do something you were already there. You were so smart and cunning and strong."

"And now I'm just a housewife..." He slowly turned to look at you. "I'm just the knocked up mistress you gotta hide."

"No. You know that's not what I meant."

"It's how you make me feel."

"Y/N..."

"I miss it too, y'know. Working with you, with everyone. I miss doing something that actually matters. I miss the planning, and the training, and the fighting. I miss it all. And now look at me. I couldn't even fucking walk home from the grocery store without needing to be rescued. It sucks, it really sucks. I know I chose this life. I know I chose...." Your hand hovered over you belly. "But I just...I just..." You're crying again.

Tomura places a hand on your back and hold you close and the other to stroke your hair in an attempt to calm you again. You clung to him, rocking the two of you back and forth.

"I know. I know." He whispered.

"I just wanted...wanted to be happy. Like how- normal people are happy." You cried.

"I know."

"And I am- I am happy I just... I miss working so much. And I miss seeing everyone and seeing you and fighting heroes and just...I even miss negotiations!" You sobbed. Tomura couldn't help but flash a smile.

"I know. I'm sorry." Your crying started to subside for a moment. Giving him the opportunity to plant a kiss on your cheek.

"Tomura?"

"Yes?"

"I love you."

"I love you." He nodded and placed his hand on your belly once more.

"So you'll be here for it?"

"Yes I'll be here." You smiled.

"Thank you."

"Don't thank me. It's the bare minimum."

[hazzoranstories]

THE WHITE SUN AT MIDNIGHT | J.BLACK Ch. 44

"Your rib is cracked. But there are no splinters. You haven't punctured anything," Carlisle stated, showing x-ray scans of Bella's upper body.

"Yet," Edward added in a monotone voice.

"Edward," Paige hissed, and he turned to glare at her. Bella gulped from beside her sister as Edward's glare fell to his wife.

"It's breaking your bones now," the vampire began. "It's crushing you from the inside out," he said, and Bella frowned, rubbing her hand over her large stomach. It had grown to an abnormal size for a month.

"Carlisle, tell her what you told me. Tell her," Edward told his adoptive father, who sighed, beginning to hesitating.

"Carlisle, tell me. It's all right," Bella said hoarsely; she had been exhausted for the past few days. Paige slipped her hand into her sister's hand, who gripped it tightly. Carlisle walked up to the hospital bed in his office while Edward stayed behind and sulked in the corner.

"The fetus isn't compatible with your body. It's too strong. It won't allow you to get the nutrition you need. It's starving you by the hour. I can't stop it, and I can't slow it down. At this rate, your heart will give out before you can deliver," Carlisle explained, and Bella held Paige's hand tighter.

The Swan girl struggled to produce any words but eventually choked out, "then I'll hold on as long as I can and then . . . ."

"Bella," Carlisle cut her off. "There are some conditions that even venom can't overcome. Do you understand? I'm sorry," the blonde couldn't bare to speak such awful realities any longer, so he walked out of the room. Leaving Paige with the newlyweds.

Paige raced out of the room without even a second thought to leave the two alone but settled against the wall outside the office.

"Edward, I'm sorry," Bella whispered.

"I can't live without you."

"You won't. You're gonna have a part of me. He'll need you."

"Do you honestly think that I could love it or even tolerate it if it killed you?" Edward spat.

"It's not his fault. You have to accept what is."

"Because you've given me no choice! Bella, we're supposed to be partners, remember? But you decided this on your own. You've decided to leave me," Paige flinched at Edward's harsh words.

"Don't see it that way."

"Well, I have no other way to see it. 'Cause, it's me who'll lose you. And I don't choose that. I didn't choose that," Edward barked before stomping out of the room. Once he caught sight of Paige, he scoffed and continued walking away. Paige slowly entered the room to see Bella curled up on the hospital bed with a crushed expression.

The werewolf strutted up to her sister and brought her into a warm hug. Bella sniffed, and a few tears escaped her eyes. "Do you think he'll ever forgive me?" she asked.

Paige broke the hug and looked down at Bella, who had red and strained eyes. Paige truly didn't know the answer, but she wanted to do anything to bring her sister comfort. "He's got to."

~:*:~

It had been a week since finding out Bella was doomed for a traumatizing death, and Paige had only seen Jake or any of the other werewolves through the windows of the Cullen's house. She had been helping Bella with Rosalie, and today's dull afternoon, they were assisting Bella to take a bath.

Rosalie and Paige were drawing her bath while Bella stood from her chair. She slipped off her white robe to show her upper half. Once she saw her deprived and skull-like skin, she froze in horror. She was merely flesh and bones by now, and the only thing not quite matching her state was her overgrown baby bump. It was covered in several layers of bruises from the baby's kicks and turned a purplish-grey color.

Rosalie and Paige had looked away from running the bath to look towards Bella's disgusted face. They could see through the mirror that Edward had walked in and seen her ghostly body as well. Bella quickly covered herself up while Rosalie closed the door.

Paige went over to her sister and rubbed her arms while kissing her clothed shoulder. She tried to smile, but it came out an anxious and fake grin.

~:*:~

The next night Paige found herself watching a football game with Jasper and Emmett. Bella was sitting on the couch, her knees as close to her chest as she could get them. Jake had finally decided to take a break from patrolling around the house, leaving it to Seth and Leah. He was to Bella's side, occasionally glancing at the game but keeping his main attention on Bella like most of the Cullens were doing.

It wasn't until Bella shivered that the football fans tore their eyes away from the tv and looked over at the human. "Are you cold?" Edward asked, and Bella nodded sheepishly.

"I got it," Jake said at an instant. He scooted over on the couch and rested his hand on Bella's leg, attempting to warm her up with his boiling temperature.

"Don't do that," he warned once he caught Bella smiling at him.

"What?" she asked.

"Smile like I'm your favorite person in the world," he frowned and tapped her thigh with his finger.

"You're one of them," the girl whispered and traced Jacob's flannel within her fingers. "Feels complete when you're here, Jake."

Bella groaned and leaned over the couch, preparing to throw up, but she never did. Jake rubbed her back as she held her stomach.

"We need to find a way to get some food into her system," Esme sighed.

"If I could only see the fetus --" Alice started.

"The baby," Paige corrected her softly, not in the mood for an argument this late at night.

"-- maybe I could figure out what it wants."

"It's probably just looking for someone to sink its teeth into," Jake thought, which both Edward and Paige heard. Paige chuckled while Edward furrowed his eyebrows, now thinking about Jake's "idea". Paige never knew why she could still hear some wolve's thoughts despite no longer being Alpha and not belonging to any pack. It seemed only to be Jake's thoughts that spoke to her. Maybe it was something to do with two werewolf imprints.

"Think you might be right. Jacob just had an idea," Edward announced, and everyone looked towards Jacob, who smirked.

"It's wasn't an idea. It was a snide comment," Paige giggled, and Jake glanced towards her, his smirk turning into a small smile.

"What were you thinking?" Carlisle asked.

"That it's probably just looking for someone to sink its teeth into," Jake mocked, and all the vampires gulped in hunger. They hadn't hunted in weeks, and all their eyes had turned deep black.

"He's thirsty," Bella said, her eyes showing every bit of confusion.

"I know the feeling," Emmett gloomed.

"If it's craving, it's not gonna want animal blood," Edward stated.

"I have some O negative laid aside for Bella," Carlisle said before walking off to his office. Jasper and Emmett immediately perked up at the sound of feeding.

"Walk with me," Alice rushed out, grabbing Jasper's hand and leading him outside. Rosalie looked towards Emmett and nodded towards the door; Emmett sighed and followed after his siblings. Carlisle soon came back, pouring a blood bag of O negative into a glass.

"Wait, wait, wait. You're gonna make her drink that?" Jake spoke up in disgust, now regretting his snide comment.

"It's the fastest way to test the theory," Carlisle replied.

"Only if you're comfortable with it," Edward turned to Bella.

"I'll try anything," Bella urged. Edward went over to help Carlisle as Paige moved over to Jake and Bella on the couch.

"I think I'm gonna be sick," Paige grimaced as Jake fidgeted away from Bella. Edward returned with the blood in a styrofoam cup and bent down to Bella's level.

"This might make it a little easier to take," Edward gestured to the straw and handed the cup to Bella. Paige and Jacob kept edging away from the blood, Paige now being wrapped in Jake's arms.

Without hesitation, Bella brought the straw to her chapped lips and drank a serving of blood. Paige gagged and struggled to look at her sister.

"Tastes . . . . good," Bella finally answered, and all the vampires smiled. The werewolves were still cowering in disgust on the other side of the couch. Bella took another drink before humming in bliss.

Carlisle went over to her as she kept taking long drinks and measured her pulse. "Your pulse is already getting stronger," Carlisle exclaimed.

"It's working," Esme smiled in delight. Edward and the rest were extremely relieved that something was finally working in this mystical baby pregnancy.

"Good idea, Einstein," Paige whispered to Jake, still not wanting to look at Bella in fear she might throw up.

"I try."

[attollogame]

I decided to do a wrap up of The Idol to allow a perspective into why Sysba might be so guarded, so please enjoy!!!

Warnings for blood, violence, and death.

The temple is burning, and they are dancing through a field of corpses. Red stains their fingertips like Alta, and it drips onto the soil to sew itself within the earth. They walk, slow and leisurely like a predator, right up until the moment they smell smoke.

Their head snaps back from the foreign soldier with their lips smeared with gore that dribbles down their neck and they grimace, bearing their teeth to the blotted out sun. Their eyes are blacker than the night and they know that the sight of them alone, poised above the broken bodies of their fellow man, would drive any sane soldier to misery.

The look of terror that washes across their face may remedy that, though.

It takes all of a moment for them to bolt away from the body towards the pillar of smoke that plumes its way into the sky. They leap and they dance and they weave their way between man and animal alike, avoiding swords and hands. The public square is filled with people scrambling to get away from the blaze; Sysba’s throat burns as they inhale the ashes, the dying remedies of a world they once owned.

The people around them are not what is on their mind, though; it is the person who is absent that is.

Sysba has not taken a human form during the day in years, preferring to meet Malchus through dreams, or to watch him afar in the form of a simple songbird. The only time Sysba ever took on a human form was at night, when they crept into Malchus’ room and sought the comfort that only he could ever provide.

A woman gripping a child slams into Sysba’s shoulder, knocking them off guard, and a snarl rips from their lips. When the woman looks back and catches a glimpse of their face—as pale as a corpse and smeared with more gore than the ground they stand upon—she freezes in place and stares at them, trembling.

Sysba gazes at her for a moment, taking in her dark hair and wide brown eyes, before twisting around and continuing their pursuit. For the first time in 400 years since they came to this earth, fear thrums through their veins, pushing them to go faster than they ever have before. The world passes by them in a blur; burning houses, overturned carts, the Temple of Apollo stripped down to its core. Whereas once they would have drunk in the spoils of war, now it does nothing but sickens them.

When they reach the temple, it only gets worse.

---

Malchus had retired as a temple cleaner, but that does not mean he had retired from the temple itself. Despite what had happened, he had continued to go to the temple to recount stories to the children of the devotees and workers. Sysba could recall many nights where they murmured in his ear that he should cease his association with them. Malchus would turn, dark eyes unfocused in the shadows, and would extend a hand to brush it along Sysba’s cheek. His lips would curl into a smile—such a fond look to give them, a monster—and he would whisper, “only for a bit longer”.

He had aspirations to leave one day, to go to a place where Sysba would be able to tell him all of the stars in the sky until his dying breath. Sysba had, for the first time in their life, felt hope that such a paradise could become true.

As they stare up at the burning temple, they feel foolish for believing in such frivolous things.

The foreign soldiers, a fleet of 900, had secured themselves in the temple and ignited a flame that ate ravenously through the dying foundations. For many years, there had been promises to rebuild the temple from the decaying grounds it stood upon, but these were constantly shunted aside for greater ambitions. It seems now that the delay is acting as their downfall.

This is not their problem, though. They lunge forth, running up the steps two for two despite the yells from the soldiers below. Sysba almost hopes that one of them will throw a sword or a spear at their fleeing form, just so they have an excuse to tear the entire fleet apart with their bare hands once they are finished. No one does, though. They simply fall into silence as they watch Sysba vanish into the flames.

---

There is nothing left by the time they get through. The scent of burnt flesh fills their nostrils; it resembles the fragrance of pig fat burning on a pan, and it sizzles like it as well. This, combined with the sulfurous odor of burning hair, causes Sysba’s lips to curl as they shield their eyes from the brilliant flames. They move nimbly over the bodies, now blackened and shriveled in fetus-like positions, all while rushing through possible locations in their mind. Malchus could be in his former bedroom, or the High Priest’s room, or,

…

Sysba pauses, their hand dropping from their face as they come to a stop in the center of the hall. The crackle of burning wood fills their ears as embers dance through the air. They go out quickly when they touch their skin, leaving nothing but a soot mark on pale flesh. Sysba watches them only for a moment before veering right and darting towards the one place they know Malchus is—

The Worship Chamber.

----

The scent of incense and the warmth of the patron god’s presence is gone when Sysba finally kicks open the doors. The marble floors are cracking and charred by the fire, and the ceiling has a plume of smoke hanging around it, like a great smog cloud prepared to descend upon them. They look at it only briefly before their gaze goes towards the entrance.

Once, many years ago, they had guided Malchus down those very steps. His hand had gripped theirs and he had followed them like a loyal lamb, right into a slaughter. Although, rather than slaughter, the lamb had tamed the wolf to be his instead. The memories of his face—so full of trust and warmth as he had walked with them into the abyss—spurs Sysba to move further, and they enter into the cavern with determination in their blood.

The steps are easy; the sound of water rushing down the walls reassures them that the flames have not reached this part yet. The waters of the temple are alleged to have healing abilities, something Sysba knows to be true, and they hope—yet again—that Malchus has found a way to put them to use. Softly, they cup their hands around their mouth and call out into the darkness.

“Malchus, Malchus!” The name bounces off the ceiling as they move, dark eyes scanning from wall to floor, “My heart, please speak to me—please tell me that you are well!”

They do not keep the desperation from leaking into their last words. A myriad of new emotions are stirring in their mind right now; they felt no fear when they faced their creator or when they stood trial before the other gods. They felt no fear when they came to earth, or when they met humans on the same level for the first time.

But now, fear stirs in their gut like a volatile potion, creeping its way up their throat and onto their tongue and leaking out with each soft cry of “Malchus!” that spills into the night. They move further, and further until the halls expand into a chamber and they look up to see stars. Hundreds of small lights flickering on the ceiling above them; the last bits of their power that they had before their exile was completed.

So distracted by the stars are they, that they almost miss the form lying beneath them.

It takes all of a moment, when their gaze slides to that prone figure, for them to realize what it is, and by the time they do, they are already falling to their knees beside it.

“Malchus!” The name spills from their tongue as a cry as their hands come to rest on his shoulders, his chest, soon sliding their way up to cup his face. That beautiful face, which had graced many of their nights with its smile, now rested slack in their palms.

Malchus’ eyes are fixated on the stars above. Sysba knows, even before they realize it, that their unfocused gaze is not due to his blindness this time.

There are no burns on his body, nothing damages his skin, but when Sysba presses their lips against his in a desperate attempt to breathe life back into his still body, they taste smoke. It fills his entire mouth and seems to extend further, as though he inhaled great plumes of it before making his final descent. The cause of his death is clear; Sysba, however, refuses to accept it.

They do the one thing they know they can—they bite down on their thumb, drawing a line of their own black blood,—

And then they pray.

They dig deep into their body, deep into their being, drawing out every ounce of their remaining power that they can. They curl it into a ball so tight that one can hold it in a fist, and they offer it to those that are watching them in nothing but sheer desperation. The Old Ones never abandoned them when they were cast to earth; they continue to exist around them, present just out of sight and touch, and they know that their desperate, silent pleas are being heard.

Yet, nothing happens.

Their blood continues to slide down their wrist, mixing with that of men, and Malchus continues to stare unfocused at the stars above. An unfamiliar sensation trickles its way down Sysba’s cheeks, and when they reach up to brush it away, their hand comes back with black liquid on their palm.

The desperate sob that rips from their lips only punctuates what it is.

The Old One’s told them when they were exiled, that they would take it all away; their power, their form, the stars, the moon, the very things that made them. Never once did it cross Sysba’s mind that the Old One’s would be cruel enough to take away their heart, as well.

And yet, as they double over, as pleas spilled from their lips like gold and they grip Malchus’ shirt and they scream all of their raw pain and sorrow into the night against a backdrop of burning paradise,

It is entirely believable.

[the-moon-prince]

The Last Of us~Kurapika x Reader ~Chapter XI

AN: Hi my lovely fellows!

I’m sorry for the delay! Thank you so much for your patience and support! I’m here with another chapter! I put some uncany descriptions and a tiny fight scene in this chapter. I hope it will dynamic and intresting enough. If you have any feedback, I would be more than glad to recive it! I have some work this week, however I’ll do my best to upload the next chapter as quickly as possible! Thank you, have a great day and I hope you will enjoy the new chapter!

I wish you a pleasant read, and I hope you’ll enjoy the new chapter of my story.  (Chapter I) (Chapter II) (Chapter III) (Chapter IV ) (Chapter V) (Chapter VI) (Chapter VII)(Chapter VIII)(Chapter IX)(Chapter X) (Chapter XII coming soon!)

Paring: Kurapika Kurta x GN! Reader

Word count: 2 317

TW: Blood // Morbid Descriptions  // Violence (? ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I don't bother. I want to make sure that I'm not selling one of my prized items to anyone."-The black-haired man dictated.

(Y/n) cleared their throat-"Understandable. Your collection is impeccable. I can clearly see the devotion put into it."-they agreed with their smile. sitting down on one of the bar benches. Kurapika mimicked the action.

Human and animal parts were too part of the person's collection.

Just another one of those sick scums for Kurapika. He loathed this guy. Referring to (Y/n)'s family as an article in his collection. Still making the reclaim difficult with an air of false supremacy and narcissism.

"I'm glad you recognize it."-the man seemed pleased with the adulation.-"Especially because I'm going to confer you one of my favorite pieces."

(Y/n) nodded-"If I were giving one of my pieces, I would as well be concerned about who was receiving it."-they added with their smile.

"Speaking of, tell me about your collection."-the man challenged. 

He pulled up a crystal bottle filled with a dark drink. At the moment of uncovering it, an intensive scent of alcohol came off. He proceeded to pour a generous amount of liquor in a spacious glass with ice

(Y/n) had no collection. Kurapika started to bug. What are they deemed to say to persuade him? 

"I have a peculiar appreciation for bodily oddities."-they tilted their head-"I own a hand with polydactyly, another one with syndactyly. A fetus with 15pp tetrasomy, a specimen of dipygus, a pair of lungs with tracheal agenesis, the list can go on."

The man lifted his chin at the answer. Kurapika relaxed. Using his medical knowledge to give examples of abnormalities was skillful. 

"That is in the human realm. My favorites are the animal eccentricities. Aren't beasts beautiful?"-they advertised, directing their gate to a taxidermized Golden Pheasant displayed on the shelf behind the man.

By this point, both (Y / n) and Kurapika were certain they had convinced the man sufficiently for him to finally sell them what they were seeking.

"Are they, right?"-the man bragged with his gruff voice-"Your interest shows, kid, that's good."-he nodded, drinking his liquor and refilling the glass-"But do you know what is special about my Fuse?"

Fuse? Didn't that mean beastman or dogman? Kurapika was perplexed. By what right did he refer to them like this...

"It would be the least! The Fuses, aren't they intriguing? Wonderful beasts."-(Y/n) praised, trying to widen their smile.  Kurapika could only imagine the pain they felt having to fake that excitement.

The man finished his drink in one gulp and served more.

"Even more for the few that remained. A true rarity! I had a good time studying them."-he shouted. It inflated his ego to be able to show off his collection.-"Imposing! Some tremble with fear when they see them. The demons robed, mated, and killed men, women, and children alike to eat their souls. Since they were disguising themselves as humans, they hid for a while. But they smelled like animals, you know? Beasts in body and soul."-he voiced and made motions of greatness with his hands. Letting out a pant that stank of alcohol.

All of this disgusted Kurapika. The man was putting on a deplorable show: spitting pest and bile out of his filthy mouth. All the collectors were rotten to the core. Would it also own scarlet eyes? What would the miserable bastard state about the Kurta? They were dull and reckless forms who were better off in vases on shelves? His blood was boiling.

(Y/n) didn't took their eyes off the dark-haired for a moment.

"It must be outstanding to hold one! I've been seeking a chance like this for a prolonged time now."-they exclaimed, putting their hands together in triumph. Kurapika felt sorry for them. 

"But beasts after all."-the man continued, finishing his drink and serving one plus anew. He was presumably drunk.-"Poor fools, they didn't stand a chance against us."-he started to laugh.-"But enough is enough, I'll go for what you want, kid."

The man finished his 3rth drink, got up, and left his bar counter to climb a wide staircase. Kurapika, who had stayed muted the whole exhibit and was staring at the glass of alcohol, let out a groan once he was assured the bastard was gone. Fuse, it even sounded awful. He turned to see (Y/n). They were looking at the things on the back furniture, their head resting on their hand. 

The man went back inside, and they both followed him with their eyes from the entry to his seat. He placed a head on the bar table on a polished wood plank. The head was of a dog. Its fur was light in color, and it had a longer, darker coat on the top of its head from which its ears poked out. His muzzle was somewhat elongated with a slightly recurved blackish nose A dog with human-like traits, resembling (Y/n). Only that he was a child and his grimace was a mixture of surprise and terror. His eyes had been replaced by doll-like ones, cold and lifeless. However, it wasn't him.

They degraded a child to wall decor.

"Look at it!"-the drunk man blurted, elevating the head by the ears to the level of his head.-"A real treasure! Even more, being from a predator, they were the most unusual among the Fuse!"

A twisted and degrading spectacle.

(Y/n) has a face of admiration, and started to clap.-"Wonderful!"

The man laid the head back on the table and sat.

"It is, it is. But it's a pity that it is dead. It would be even more impressive to have it as a pet."-He interjected with a grin, showing his open hand, waiting.

(Y/n) took an envelope out of their bag and handed it to him. The man took money out of it and began to count it. At that, Kurapika took the head and pulled it towards him. On its own, it was quite heavy, and the wooden base didn't help. The fur was soft and covered the moderately battered neck. When viewed up close it was worse. 

"Okay, take good care of my Fuse."-he teased displaying his hand to them. They watched it for a moment before pulling their own out and shaking it.

"I will. So you don't have to trouble about that."-they responded smiling.-"We will with-"

"Fuse."-The black-haired interrupted them.

(Y/n) inclined their head, and Kurapika looked up at him. How drunk was this bastard?

"You are a Fuse kid: you have claws. When you shook my hand I saw them, even if you put black nail polish. Your aura is not human either, although you mirror it well. But specialize in hunting beasts, you can't trick me."-the man condemned, with a severe look.

Kurapika felt his blood run cold for a second. (Y/n)'s smile got substituted by a sober expression.

"Why don't you kill me, kid?"-his face changed into an expression of repugnance.

Kurapika was already preparing to attack.

"There is no use in such an act. We will withdraw now."- they calmly declared standing up. They held the head with both hands, and the two directed to the exit. 

The man looked down at his now hollow glass, it did not seem that he was going to launch an attack. Nevertheless, Kurapika didn't let his guard down all the walk to the exit. The man didn't seem to move from his chair.

Still, the walk from the bar counter to the door felt heavy. Neither of them would show fear, they couldn't permit it. They would not indulge the wretch.

As soon as they were out the front door, they heard another scream from the man.

"Fuse!"-he shouted that name again. The smell of strong alcohol reached up to them.

 Kurapika and (Y/n) stopped, standing on the small path between the porch and the gate. Kurapika turned to see him. This man was nothing to him but a wretch. And he was already on the last nerve of him. 

(Y/n) continue to turn their back to the drunk.

"I'll tell you why you don't kill me!"-he shouted-"You don't kill me because you know it won't change anything. You will never get anything back. Because your kind never had anything."-he raged. He seemed almost offended.

(Y/n) tilted their head and remained silent for a couple of seconds. Kurapika was ready to deliver a punch to the man right into his face. At any circumstance, in his current shape, he wasn't going to be capable of much.

"No."-(Y/n) alleged, without turning to see him-"I already reclaimed what was robbed from us."-their tone was not the same as before. This one was more pressing. 

Kurapika hadn't heard that tone of theirs before. While they weren't screaming, it radiated indignity.

"They only robbed our bodies."-they maintained-"They will never be able to take away our pride, dignity, nor greatness. And that reality pains you."

The man rushed towards (Y/n), he was fast. In a fit of rage and giddy with alcohol, he concentrated his nen in his right fist and delivered a punch into their head. This action pushed (Y/n)'s head to the floor and their entire body hit the concrete, releasing the puppy's head from their grasp. Which fell to the ground, slightly staining its fur.

It was the straw that broke the camel's back.

Kurapika's eyes glowed scarlet. It could be subtly perceived under the contacts he wore. The man had made the mistake of revealing his type of nen. He was an Enhancer, practicing hand-to-hand combat. That puts him at a disadvantage against Kurapika's ranged techniques. 

Kurapika conjured his chains. He dashed towards the man and unleashed his fury in a blow that struck the man in the side, targeting the kidney. The hit was potent enough not only to beat the man off but also to thrust him a few feet away from the two of them.

He was writhing in the grass, panting.

Seeing that (Y/n) didn't get up, Kurapika went to his side and helped him to their feet. Their legs were shaking. They had hit their noses on the pavement. It was bleeding heavily, and their eyes were watery. They also had their left cheek bruised. Neither of them noticed the blow coming. 

Once steady on their feet, (Y/n) stepped to the head and lifted it. Whipping the dust and dirt off the pup's face.

"Let me see your other form. Transform yourself."-the man whimpered between gasps, still in the ground.

"Sir, you are drunk."-(Y/n) finished. 

In other conditions, Kurapika would keep pounding the bastard. However, the blow (Y/n) received was considerably strong and had a great deal of concentrated aura. Above, they had little physical resistance against direct attacks; their physical fragility could not be ignored. His priority was to get them out of the place. The man did not move and did not say anything again.

Kurapika put a hand on (Y/n) 's back to help them advance to the car.

Getting to the safety of the truck, (Y/n) sat down after putting the puppy in the back. So far it had been a disastrous night. They had to put up with a drunken narcissistic idiot and (Y/n) got beaten, insulted, and denigrated.

When they put their weight on the seat, their frame inclined forward, still shaking. They put their trembling hands together and supported them on their legs meanwhile they puffed.

Kurapika was troubled for their well-being. He moved closer to them to get a better glimpse at the wound. They would have a mark on their cheek and their nose continued to bleed.

"(Y/n), how do you feel?"- he pleaded, a hand in their back.

They sniffed and pulled out a tissue to clean their face. 

"I feel better. It is not grave, I'll be fine. Thank you, my love"-they affirmed, turning to see him and offering him a smile.

Kurapika didn't understand. He knew how affable his darling was, except this was exceedingly much. A narcissistic and vulgar man had insulted, not only them but their entire deceased family. Not having respect for the gone is the limit of acceptable decency.

 He referred to them as demons, assassins, and other barbarities. He had even demoted them to pets. Yet with all that, he was the one who attacked. He was the one who was boiling in pure anger, not making the smallest attempt to be polite with the bastard. Not (Y/n).

They could have attacked at any time. However, they didn't even conjure their ribbons. They didn't shout at him, they didn't insult him. They remained terribly calm. Even now, when they were alone in the car. It seemed as if they had forgotten everything. They even smiled.

As someone dares to speak like that of the Kurta clan, Kurapika would grind them with his chains and fists.

But this was an enigma to him. Was (Y/n) even vexed? Whatever it is, they had enormous self-control, even excessive...

Kurapika would reflect on this entire experience several times in the future. Despite the fact, there were diverse imports one particular thing adhered with him like glue: the response (Y/n) gave the man screeched they would never recover what was lost. 

Kurapika embraced (Y/n) and drew circles on their back, attempting to comfort them. They rested their head on his chest, he could feel them quivering.

"(Y/n)."-he called softly-"It's over, dear, let's go home."

They shook their head.-"Not yet."

[deputy-videogamer]

Gemini |Part 1|

Pairing: Geralt x Reader, Yennefer x Reader, Geralt x Reader x Yennefer

Part 2

Summary: This is based off of @deepestfirefun Witcher imagine where the reader is a powerful sorceress of the world and her father the king fears for her power and asked his royal healers to seal her powers. It does so successfully but the results led to the reader's mind to be split into two. One is kind hearted the other is a crazy murderous lunatic. Geralt is tasked to kill her, but finds something is off of this request.

A/N: Their original imagine is a Geralt x Reader, but I though it would be more interesting if it was also a Yennefer x Reader cause WE NEED MORE YENNEFER X READER FICS!

Being a person who possesses powerful abilities is something that can be feared by many, including the king; your own father.

Your mother was a woman who originally possessed your powers, but when she was pregnant with you, the chances of you surviving were slim. So she transferred all her powers to you in order to live, at the cost of her life.

Perhaps you father started fearing you when you were just a small girl who just had discovered your new found powers

You were in the garden being watched over by one of your many handmaidens as you were running around all over the place. The smell of fresh flowers filled the area, showing off it’s vibrant colors. While exploring the garden, something caught your attention, one of few fruit trees that were planted in the garden had a bright shiny apple dangling from one of it’s limbs.

You usually would ask your handmaiden to call one of the guards to retrieve the juicy fruit, but the limb of the tree was closer to the ground compared to the other fruits. Looking back at your handmaiden was busy knotting something, most likely another piece of clothing for you, taking this as a sign of distraction you quickly climbed up the tree.

Once at the top you then slowly crawl towards to receive your red reward. You danity fingers almost there as you struggle to get closer making sure you wouldn’t fall off. But as fate likes to put people in dangerous situations, your hand has slipped causing you to fall towards the ground and release a scream in the process. Your scream was heard from not only the garden but from inside the castle as well. The guards along with your father heard your cries and raced towards the guard to rescue you from any harm.

If only you had called your handmaiden to help you get the apple instead of you trying to get it yourself.

The first few guards had entered the guard, but instead of finding any types of assassin or even seeing their princess harm from the fall, the opposite had happened. There you were floating off the ground as you remained still in the crawling position with your eyes closed in hopes to not see the ground when you fell. Realizing you were not in pain, you hesitantly opened one eye to see what was the prevention. Your hands hovered over the ground as the air that kept you from falling had acted like a cushion.

The magic had stopped reacting when you managed to gently stand up. The air dispersed into nothing, you were amazed at your new found powers, wanting your father all about it. You were about to run and tell him about your new discovery when you looked up and saw your father. The smile on your face had dropped when you saw the fear in your father’s eyes. The handmaid that was with had fear that your father would do something to you and quickly scooped you into her arms, racing towards your room.

Being so young you thought that your father would be proud of having powers like this. But such fantasies are nonexistent and you knew so too. Ever since that day your father had avoided you, leaving you with your handmaiden to take care of you as you grew older learning to control your magic with the help of your mother’s former master. He had commented with enough training and control you would become the most powerful mage of all Tameria. This even puts more fear for your father.

You had remembered the day that everything changed just like it was yesterday. You were already at the age of 12 when your father had called you. Such an usual request from your father for he avoided you all your life. The child in you had believed that he had finally come to accept your powers and wanted you to forgive for such neglect after all these years. The thought in your head, had filled you with joy finally you can have a father.

The maids had escorted you to the dining hall where your father had sit on one side of the table as your seat was all the way to the end.

“Ah (Y/N), you finally arrived.” The first ever words that had spoken to you in years. “Please take a seat.” Your body skipped all the way to your seat.

With the sound of the bell, the servants had brought out food and drinks for the two of you. Your father had gestured to you to eat first. Being young you didn’t think little of it, bringing the chalice to your lips, the sweet liquid ran down your throat.

Placing the chalice back down on the table, a sudden headache had you clutching your head.

The pain. The pain was indescribable. It burned almost like someone had set you a curse that made you feel pain throughout your whole body. Your knees gave up sending you in a fetus position, as the pain continued to spread throughout your body. Your lips release a heart wrenching scream hoping for anyone one to hear you and to send help.

Then it stopped. The pain no longer was there, instead you felt empty. You couldn’t even bring yourself the only energy you had left was the movement of your eyes. Your eyes moved around the room to see anyone that would help you move. What your eyes caught was the shards of the plate scattered around the floor, it must have fell when you were in pain. Immediately, all the color vanished from your face when you saw that your eyes no longer look (e/c) in its place were blood red eyes in your reflection that stare hauntingly at you back.

Finally picking yourself back up. Your eyes angrily stared at your father who didn’t do anything to help you.

“What did you do to me?” Your voice didn’t have any other emotions but hatred. When he didn’t answer you threw the dinner knife at him. The small utensil caused a cut on his cheek.

“I-I- I did what I had to. Your powers have been getting too much ever since the first time you showed them to me.” You wanted to be shocked, instead you let out a menacing laugh.

“And you thought that poisoning your own daughter would save you sorry ass.”

“No, the drink was supposed to destroy your powers not kill you.” His reasoning only made you even more frustrated.

“Oh it did alright. But not without a price.” As the venom dripped from your mouth the hatred in your voice changed to an oddly sweet voice. “Instead of being a normal person who could show emotions. I now have only two emotions; happiness and anger.”

“I did what I had to do. It was to save you!” Save you? He took away the powers that were the only thing left of your mother. They could take away your appearance, make you deformed or curse, but taking away your mother’s magic wasn't one of them. 

The rage appeared once again in your heart, this time it wasn’t going anywhere. “No, you are wrong you didn’t save me. You saved yourself!

That was the final straw. Grabbing the glass shard from the ground, you tackled your father out of his chair, pinning him on the ground as you tried to stab him with the piece of glass. Your father cried for his guards as he struggled to keep the glass away from his heart. 

The sounds of heavy metal footsteps were coming closer to the dining room. You didn’t want to hurt the knights that were the only source of friends along with the servants, all you wanted was to kill your so-called father. With one final push the shard pierced your father's shoulder his cries of agony filled your ears like it was some sort of melody. You raced out of the castle, out of the town, out of the kingdom that you once called home. You didn’t stop running until you reached the heart of the forest, the dress you wore was torn and dirty, the heels that you wore were removed in order for you to run faster. The crown that you wore on your head was no longer there as it fell down when you ran away.

Wanting to forget your heritage you had ripped the remaining of your dress, shorting it up to your knees. You wanted to cry, but you couldn't. The emotion didn’t seem to exist to you all there was happiness and anger. Only the drops of the rain were the only representation of tears the only thing you could count as sadness.

It seemed like that piece of memory was like a horrible nightmare only it wasn’t a nightmare. It was real. The day your father poisoned you were only 15 years old, no young woman should experience such a horrific event.

For the last 16 years you remained hidden in your forest that you now called home. You survived this long due to the books you read back at your home.You hunted for animals with the bow and arrows you created by hand, forged edible plants, bathed in the lake, and took shelter in caves or built your own hut. You even made friends with the nymphs, nereids, godlings, and even with the strange woodland spirits that had a deer skull for it’s head. When you told them about how your father poisoned you they pitied you and offered their help. 

As of right now you were picking blueberries to have for snacks and to share with the forests natives. Looking inside your basket it was full to the brim, it should be enough for you for a few weeks. Dropping a few more berries into the basket, you then headed off to your little cottage. The weather today was so relaxing, the gentle breeze soothing your nerves, forgetting the reminders of being an ex-princess. 

“You are humming.” A feminie voice called you out. On the right side of the trail a familiar looking nymph grinned at you. Just like all the nymphs here she wore no clothing, only her hair covering her chest. 

“Hello to you, Maia. What brings you here?” You asked her, offering her your basket to her. Which she grabbed a handful.

“Just wondering what you are doing now.” She plucked one of the berries from her hand into her mouth. “But also some concern.”

You slightly tilted your head to the side with your smile still on your face. “Concern? For what?”

Your friend’s expression told you something horrible was to occur sooner or later. She plucked one of the berries and raised it. 

“Do you know about the White Wolf and Yennefer of Vengerberg?”

Ah! So that’s what this is all about. It seems like your father is desperate to rid himself of your existence, it seems like it has gotten to the point where he called two of the most feared and deadly people of Tameria.

“I heard from my sisters that your father has requested for both their presence. Just how desperate is that man?” She squashed the berry between her fingers, wiping it the juices away

All you did was giggled at her response, the face on Maia’s face said otherwise.

“This is something to jest about (Y/N). Both names aren’t supposed to be taken lightly,there is a reason why they are feared.” All you did was shrugged, you twirled in place before dancing around the trail.

Due to the potion you drank. Your two emotions tend to do random gestures. For your happiness it meant singing, dancing, laughing, and telling jokes. The anger it would led to short temperance, fighting, and in some case the desire to murder, although as long as you were calm it won’t show.

You stopped your little dance to turn and face your sister.

“A Witcher and a mage?” You smiled at your nymph sister as she looked at you with concern. “I should honor the coming for my head….That is if they can get past my other half.”

[taramaclaywasaterf]

with all due respect... it's perplexing how much you like spike while being a terf (affectionate). spike, the character whose motivation is to dominate and violate the metaphor for female power (slayers), who turns buffy herself into a hollow shell, who is consistently a perpetrator of sexual harassment and violence, towards women who reject him....

Sorry for the late response, I saw this ask right when you sent it but I’ve been scouring my blog because I know for a fact I answered a similar question about Spuffy before, but tumblr is such a piece of shit website I literally cannot find it anywhere even though I know I fucking tagged it!! Ugh I hate this hellsite.

Anyway, trust me babe I know Spuffy is trash lol. I hate that I love this garbage ship so much, I really do. Part of it is that I was like a tiny fetus when I first watched the show so I didn’t actually realize how terrible Spike was, but now I’m like a decade and a half into shipping these two characters so I’m too invested to stop now...like, I couldn’t stop even if I wanted to- it’s ingrained into my psyche lol. I literally made my father buy me a leather duster from Goodwill when I was in middle school so that I could look like Spike, because I wanted to be as cool as him so badly. There’s no coming back from that lmao

Another big factor is that this show is, what, 20 years old now? It’s not like it’s currently on the air, still making new ones. If it were a new show airing right now, there’s no way I could stomach it, let alone support it. But this was the late 90s/early 2000s. It’s already happened. And as long as we‘re able to recognize *why* the shit that happened in the show was disgusting and wrong, and maintain self awareness and perspective, I honestly don’t see an issue with having one ~problematic~ (ugh sorry I hate that word lol) ship. As long as it’s not, like, literal pedophilia or anything, obviously, because fuck that shit.

Onto more character stuff, I’m gonna sound real cheesy and cliche for a second here, but...well, Spike didn’t have a soul. Everything he did, he did as a literal soulless demon. Angel was off nailing puppies to trees, murdering children, and torturing Dru while he was unsouled. Of course Spike is gonna be a piece of shit. He’s a demon. But despite that- despite his lack of a soul- he was still able to somehow, in his own way, love Buffy and Dru. That shit hits me in the heart every time I think about it. Here’s this guy- a man who wrote poetry and wanted nothing more than for his mother to be happy and for the girl he loves to love him back- who is suddenly torn from his life of being the butt of every joke, with his soul ripped from his body and a demon put in its place. And yet, he still just wants love. To be accepted. Becoming a vampire is supposed to heighten everything you were as a human being. Well, as a human, William was gentle, and kind, and desperate to be loved. But vampires are supposed to be evil. And bad. And remorseless. I said this in the other post I mentioned, but basically, everything Spike *is*, is a reaction to who William was. It’s like two opposing magnets trying to come together inside him constantly. And then he finds Buffy. A woman who not only appeases the demon inside him by treating him like a villain, but also- because of the fact that she’s so kind, so pure, such a light, she brings out William, the scared, lonely human man inside of Spike from all those years ago.

That’s fucking heartbreaking, dude.

Would any man in real life get this type of sympathy from me? Hell no, of course not. But this is a TV show. And we’re talking about magical creatures here. In real life, men aren’t hijacked by literal demons that make them abuse women. They do that shit all on their own. And when it comes to vampires, and Angel and Spike specifically, you as a viewer and Buffy herself can know for a fact that they changed once they’ve gotten their souls (or, in Angel’s case, gotten his soul *back.*) In real life, sure, men can go to jail for murder or rape, but it’s not like they’re gonna come out a different person. They’re still the same person who raped or murdered someone. When it comes to vampires, they’re literally just the same *body.* They’ve got a soul now. They’re no longer controlled by a demon possessing them.

That said, when it comes to Seeing Red...that shit was just straight up bad writing lol. Like, I’m not using that as an excuse or a cop out, I actually really mean it. The writers knew they wanted Spike to get a soul, they wanted to force some conflict, they wanted to drive a wedge between him and Buffy, iirc Joss was off writing Firefly and stopped giving a shit about BTVS, so the writers did...that. I’m forever annoyed and angry at them for it- not just for Spuffy but for Tara as well. It’s like they sat down and said “ok everyone, how can we best destroy our own show in the matter of 10 minutes?” then did it.

Lastly, they’re fucking cute together. Like, c’mon. You cannot tell me “I can be alone with you here” isn’t one of the most unintentionally romantic things anyone has ever said. “Every night I save you”? Fuck, it kills me. “If my heart could beat it would break my chest” stop that’s too fucking painful to think about. “You have to go on living, so one of us is living” nooooo my fucking heart “I love you” “No you don’t, but thanks for saying it”? Jfc that shit makes me fucking sob like a baby every time I watch it.

Basically, to sum up: I know it’s trash. But it’s an old ass show, and he didn’t have a soul, and we can indulge ourselves in some bad shit every once in awhile as long as we know why it’s bad.

[fakeyellow]

They knew having a baby was going to be hard. They just didn’t realise it’d be this hard. 

Angsty Part 2 of Kamilah and pregnant!MC. Based on anon prompts. TW: miscarriage. Part 1 here. 

It starts off so well. They go to Adrian, and although he gives her the same talk on expectations that Kamilah had, he agrees to start the project in his labs. 

Due to the impossible nature of their desire, Ava is started on a treatment of various hormones in order to do a lot of her things to her body- There are a lot of words and scientific jargon thrown around but Ava doesn’t really care for the details other than the fact that they are going to have a baby. A beautiful, squishy baby with Kamilah’s eyes and her lips.

And then it happens.

The scientists successfully plant an embryo that is a perfect mix of Kamilah and Ava into Ava and all of a sudden, that beautiful squishy baby with Kamilah’s eyes and her lips is so near.

The first time they hear the baby’s heartbeat, Ava can’t stop beaming and even Kamilah seems awed at this proof that there is a living baby inside Ava. 

Ava finds it more cute than suffocating how overprotective of Ava Kamilah becomes, her hand always wrapped around her waist. 

Kamilah has lived for over two thousand years on this Earth but this, this is something she’s never experienced and it’s terrifying and thrilling all at the same time but she can’t imagine ever having loved someone more. She’s never not worried for Ava’s health but Ava always says she’s fine and places Kamilah’s hands on her belly and somehow that is always able to quiet her worries.

Kamilah often lies awake at night, spooning Ava and wondering if she’s allowed to be this happy after the life she’s led, the lives she’s killed. But if anyone tries to take this away from her, from Ava, she will end their lives with her own hands.

At 12 weeks, Ava has the smallest little bump, but it’s solid and it’s real and Ava can’t stop touching it reverentially. Neither can Kamilah.

They tell the others and Lily screams out in joy, jumping up and down as she hugs Ava. Kamilah monitors this and Jax is more controlled but he also expresses how happy he is for them. Even if he doesn’t quite understand how it’s possible.

Ava’s always going into the lab, being monitored and undergoing tests to make sure their miracle baby is doing well. She’s nauseous one day and even as Kamilah rubs her back soothingly at the toilet, Ava is ecstatic that this is yet another sign of their baby. She’s getting morning sickness, this means that their baby is getting bigger and stronger.

And then Ava wakes up one day and she’s still feeling a little sick so she goes to the bathroom. But she sees little spots of red on her underwear. 

She straightens and splashes some water on her face before stiffly going over to Kamilah who’s awake and waiting for her to get back in their bed.

“I don’t want to worry you,” Ava says and Kamilah’s face already shutters over, “But we should go to the lab.”

There’s a flurry of action in the small lab and Ava sits on the examination table, her arms hugging her baby protectively. Kamilah stands at her side, a warm and steady presence that helps Ava calm down just a little bit.

But they eventually come in to tell her that they’re so sorry but the ultrasound showed that there was no heartbeat anymore and they’re sorry but the fetus is gone and they’re sorry but they have to wait for her body to expel it on its own.

And Ava can only shake her head in denial because no, she can still feel the solid presence of their baby in her stomach. There’s no way their baby is dead. They heard its heartbeat just yesterday and it was so strong and there is no way that she was pregnant 24 hours ago but not anymore.

Kamilah’s face is unreadable but she embraces Ava fiercely and Ava still refuses to believe that this is real. 

“They have to be lying Kamilah, there’s no way our baby…” Ava shakes her head furiously into Kamilah’s chest before she finally bursts into tears. She hiccups and sobs and she can’t breathe amidst her cries for Kamilah and their baby but Kamilah doesn’t let go of her and they continue to clutch each other in that white, sterile room.

The first day after, Ava can’t stop crying and Kamilah checks them into a hotel room because their apartment is filled with too many reminders. For one of the first times in her long life, Kamilah is at a loss for what to do.

The second day and onwards, Ava stops crying and Kamilah almost wishes she’d cry again. Ava lies in bed, clutching her abdomen as cramps tear her apart from the inside out, expelling all of the evidence of their once-living baby, and she only gets up to put the bloody remains of her cramps into plastic baggies so the scientists can analyse it.

The bleeding lasts for two weeks but the small little bump remains for longer and Ava can’t stand looking down at herself, at her traitorous body that doesn’t seem to have gotten the memo that there no longer is a baby inside it. 

Ava withdraws from Kamilah and Kamilah can only watch as the woman she loves wastes away. They sleep on opposite sides of the bed, Kamilah staring at Ava’s curved back. But Ava can’t stand anyone’s hands on her body right now. 

She doesn’t know what’s worse, that she doesn’t have a baby anymore or that she can’t stand being touched by Kamilah right now even as she misses her. 

They’ve faced so much together, from Vega to Gaius to Rheya, but Kamilah fears that this is what’ll make her lose Ava and the prospect of that is somehow more terrifying than anything she’s ever faced before.

Once a month has passed with this strange distance between them, Ava declares that she wants to try again. Kamilah keeps her reservations to herself and accompanies Ava to the lab.

They put Ava on a strict regimen of four shots every day, one on her thigh, one on her stomach, and two on her butt. Although Ava is the one scared of needles, Kamilah is the one to balk at the number of shots, but Ava resolutely agrees to it.

At first, Kamilah is the one who administers the shots because this is the only way Ava lets Kamilah near her.

But weeks pass and it’s like nothing has changed since before Ava first brought up the idea of having a baby. Her body is stubbornly normal, her stomach flat, and Ava is filled with a greater sense of desperation.

This desperation is what causes her to go to the lab one day, when Kamilah’s at work. She asks the scientists if there are any experimental drugs they’re testing because she’ll take anything if it’ll give her even a slightly better chance at having a baby.

They’re hesitant but eventually, she breaks them down, and they give her a set of highly temperamental drugs that they warn is likely to cause a lot of side effects. If she ever passes out, they tell her to stop immediately. She dutifully nods but she has no intention of stopping.

She stops the daily 4 shot regimen in lieu of the riskier treatment but Kamilah is just happy that Ava seems to have stopped killing herself in order to have a baby. 

Ava feels selfishly grateful that she and Kamilah have stopped sleeping together because her body is perpetually bruised and tender from the experimental treatment. She feels guilty about actively deceiving Kamilah but the thought of their baby, their beautiful, squishy baby keeps her going forward. 

She learns to hide her symptoms from Kamilah, sending her lover off on menial tasks that she insists only Kamilah can do, and using that time to hurriedly vomit and clean herself up. She learns to hold in her gasps of pain whenever she brushes against tables and doors.

Ava looks at herself in the mirror one day and is surprised at how fast she seems to have aged. Even though her dream is to have a round belly, Ava doesn’t think she’s ever been skinnier and unhealthier looking than she is right now. 

She looks gaunt and haggard, her collarbones jutting out from her skin and the skin under her eyes dark. Veins protrude from the hands that grasp onto the bathroom counter and Ava keeps reminding herself of that beautiful, beautiful baby that will come at the end of all of this. She pats on a thick layer of makeup and puts on a loose sweater, pasting a smile on her face.

Then she starts blacking out. They start slowly at first and thankfully, during times Kamilah is at work. Ava begins to wake up on the floor, her head and back aching from their impact with the ground, and she learns to tell the signs that she’s going to be passing out. 

But of course she can’t hide forever, and Ava’s unable to get Kamilah away when the grey spots suddenly appear and consume her entire field of vision faster than they ever have before. 

When she comes to, she’s in her bed and Kamilah is looking grimly over her, the corners of her mouth firmly downturned. Ava slowly raises herself into a sitting position but even that is too fast, and Kamilah reaches out to stabilise her when she sways. 

“You need to stop.”

And then erupts one of the most vicious fights they’ve ever had in their years together.

“No,” Ava says stubbornly, her gaze focused on her lap.

“Ava,” Kamilah cries out in frustration before composing herself and sitting back at Ava’s side, “Were you ever going to tell me you were still trying?”

The hurt is palpable in Kamilah’s voice and this is what finally gets to Ava, making her wince. 

“I was going to tell you once it worked.”

“How long have you been passing out?” Kamilah asks but Ava remains silent, nervously fiddling with her fingers. Kamilah repeats herself and Ava quietly answers.

“Three weeks.”

“Three weeks,” Kamilah echoes, running a hand through her hair in shock before her face turns resolute.

“That’s it. You’re stopping now. I won’t see you killing yourself over something that was impossible to begin with.”

Ava’s head jerks up at this and she glares at her lover, “So you’re just going to give up on our baby? Just like that?”

“I love you Ava. I won’t lose you for a groundless dream. You are all I need,” Kamilah says firmly, placing a hand on Ava’s cheek so they are looking right into each other. 

Ava’s eyes begin to water for the first time in months and she shakes her head furiously, “Stop that. Stop lying. I know you haven’t forgiven me for losing our baby.”

“What?” Kamilah is momentarily speechless but she quickly recovers because that is not what Ava needs right now. She tenderly wipes away a tear from the corner of Ava’s eye before speaking slowly and carefully, “What happened was a tragedy. But it was not your fault.”

Ava’s face crumples at this and now the tears run freely as she whimpers out, “How can it not be?”

“It was our baby in my body but I wasn’t able to protect it. I lost our baby, I-I couldn’t protect it, I wasn’t strong enough… our baby, Kamilah, our baby.”

Kamilah tightly embraces her and Ava breaks down in a way she hasn’t let herself, her weak frame shuddering with inconsolable sobs. She feels wet drops fall on her shoulder and she realises that there are also tears running down Kamilah’s face.

“You are strong. You are brave. You are the most wonderful woman I’ve ever met and we will get through this together.”

“I promise.”

A/N: That’s the second fic I’ve ended with the words “I promise,” but I couldn’t think of anything else.

Anyway, this was a really heavy topic to write about and I can only hope I haven’t trivialised it or offended anyone. This isn’t an area I have any experience in so I drew from a variety of sources.

[migleefulmoments]

The ccers are just like the gop

Watching the Impeachment testimony today it’s a nightmare for the gop and Trump. Ambassador Sondland has admitted everything we knew was true using the words “Quid Pro Quo” and admitting that everyone in Trump’s administration knew.  Watching the gop then try to defend Trump is a disaster or outrageous lies, conspiracy theories, and distraction.  

Reading this thread from the cc coven, I’m reminded of how similar their tactics are to the gop’s. This thread is full of lies and conspiracy theories that have been duped and yet these people- like Nunes, Jordan, and Stipanik- clearly believe the lies they share. The two groups have built their knowledge bases on these lies. These faulty foundations don’t hold up to even the smallest of scrutiny. People living in reality can see the faults, but sadly ccers and the gop don’t see reality and live in an imaginary world where they are always right.  

ajw720 answered:

It is hard to me to select the one thing that i find the most offensive, there are just so many.  They have also named at least 2 drinks based on breast size, Good Rak (I forget the exact name) and R2DD2.  you know reducing women to their body parts.  And of course the one called C3PHO that is implying that women should be called whores if they decide to exercise their sexual freedom.  And we are even touching on the innuendo which maybe isn’t offensive, but is extraordinarily immature.  Or the fact that they have naked women gyrating on the bar and simulating sex with teddy bears in a PIANO BAR where on a different night you can sing d/isney tunes! (Abby refuses to understand that the drink names are NOT to belittle women but to take ownership of the words away from those who use them against us. She has been told this but she needs to be angry at Mia so she refuses to even think about it=faulty foundation)

But hey, according to her stans, I am closed minded and they are progressive. (yep! That’s true). You know what it reminds me of?  The individuals watching the impeachment trials and daring to say that these upstanding, career public servants, many of whom serve both democrats and republicans, are liars because they refuse to admit the bigot in the WH is a criminal. (Nice try but no, you honey, you are those people. Faulty foundations)��

D looked really drained to me last night, and we know he is PBB free in NYC. I have to imagine the way the are smearing his name constantly is weighing heavily on his soul. My heart hurts for him.  (In fact, 3 of the 6 people in at least one of the photos has the same neutral face. Other photos, released later that night show a gleefully happy Darren=faulty foundations. Photos at the end.)  

ajw720 Can I just add one thing?  The “marriage” was forced by D’s team, and this includes his extremely powerful PR agency.  (NOT TRUE= faulty foundations) Why are they not reading and reviewing everything posted by that offensive institute prior to its release? (Because Darren controls his own life and his business is not part of what Sunshine Sachs does for Darren).  That would be working FOR THEIR CLIENT.  Instead, they are allowing that bar to actively harm his character. (Such a stupid argument.  Why would Darren continue to pay them if they were actively harming him? Abby this one is so stupid you need to stop=faulty foundations) 

I hope that there is a time D can sue them for defamation, I really do, because to me, this is an absolute outrage. (Well we are a decade in, when you believe that could happen, Abby? Ya know ....using your legal knowledge?) 

This flannel shirt theme stunt has made my blood boil more than most. (This just pisses me off.  My daughter read this post, called herself a dyke and said.“I just wish I could go.” She was wearing a flannel shirt)  

notes-from-nowhere My question is: why M has been forced to drop “s/unsetstrippa” (and f/etus but, let’s leave one of the sock account behind for a moment)? (Fetus IS NOT MIA. OMG THIS IS SO STUPID=Faulty Foundations) That was not her decision.(WTF? Of course, it is=faulty foundations)  So, why? I’ll tell you why: given that the plan was to make her relevant for everybody besides for her nanny, it was embarrassing for D (and his team) to have her tagged by colleagues and various celebrities with that childish nickname. Do not even try to tell me this is not the reason (Faulty Foundations).

So why isn’t the same level of “courtesy” reserved for your establishment? Quite frankly “s/unsetstrippa” was far less offensive than what happens constantly in&out of that place. When will we see day D will be treated with the respect that a man in his position should have by default? And above all, when his team will accept that they are no longer managing a teenage dream? Controversy as a way to make someone famous it doesn’t work as a shortcut if there is nothing behind that people might like. (I honestly don’t understand this sentence so I have no good debunk...Darren was never marketed as “teenage dream” and he certainly currently isn’t= Faulty Foundations)  

It’s time to remove D from the TS/G narrative once and for all. M dropped this place a long time ago and it has no meaning for D’s career, let alone finantial reasons since he is just the piano man and not the owner. (Well “finantial” reasons aside, Darren and Mia own the bar. They don’t work there.  -=Faulty Foundations).   

ajw720

Sadly she dropped that for another made up name that they have used to mock D.  It is unfathomable the way D is being treated.  

And honestly, I don’t know why more people aren’t screaming about this bar and how people don’t see or ignore how offensive it is. (Because only someone who refuses to live in reality actually sees the bar as problematic.  It’s a queer-safe space that celebrates the LGBTQ community in ways that MAKE SENSE TO THE LGBTQ Community.  Just because Abby doesn’t understand it doesn’t make it wrong= Faulty Foundations).  D does his best to distance himself, but it is his name front and certain in every article about the place and he is the one on TV naming it repeatedly (I love this nonsense..so is he distancing himself or is he the name that is connected often?)

Where are the people protecting the actual marketable commodity’s interest? The person with talent that is at the top of his game?  I have never seen anything like this. (Its all made up in your head=Faulty Foundations)

notes-from-nowhere You know one of the reason his team keeps ignoring things like this bar is because people bring gifts to M. (OMG...this is just a stupid thing to say) Because even if these people know everything about t his place, how rude the staff is, how undrinkable and overpriced the drinks are, how annoying and out of place “certain activities” inside of it are, they swallow their beliefs and words to go there and have a picture with D to post on their social media (This is all conspiracy theory and absolutely Faulty Foundations.  This is exactly like Nunes repeating all the conspiracy theories tied to Trump this morning. I’ve looked at these and most -if not all- of these are not real.)  

As long as there will be people that put their interests ahead of D’s wellbeing and public image, his team will keep to ignore how hurtful behaviors and bar are. They will buy an article on a random magazine that will praise the bar, D will be forced to publicly say the its name and so on. (Faulty Foundations) 

D’s team is not protecting an investment, they are making money out of people. And people is allowing them to do so.

leka-1998 Yesterday someone asked me why I keep being angry at the things they do or don’t do, at what’s going on at that bar that screams M. Why I even had to point out that flannel theme. Because I shouldn’t be surprised at all. And I’m really not, but the way they are destroying D’s character really gets me. He’s currently getting more attention due to M/idway and AB, two great projects. Both are/will be seen by a new audience. I’m sure HW will be big too. A competent and well-meaning team would care how D looks, what he’s associated with. They don’t. And no one can tell me that’s not wrong. (The idea that Darren can’t take control of his own life is pretty gross.  Nobody lives this life they imagine- it’s outrageous.  Faulty Foundations) 

ajw720 Obviously everything annoys me about the circus that surrounds him. But I can mostly laugh about the Halloween BS or and the excessive praise she receives as none of that ultimately affects D’s character and his reputation.  But this bar, it is so harmful and it potentially could be so damaging.  Imagine a theater goer looking up D after AB and finding their IG full of discriminatory themes/drinks and extremely immature innuendo. And D’s name is what that bar is associate with, not his “bride” as she doesn’t do anything, but D who is the one promoting it the media regularly.  He has not promoted anything in his life more than the bar over the past 2 years.  Not even his fake nuptials. (Yes, Imagine what it looks like that Darren’s bar is a queer safe space.  OMG How horrific!!!!!!! How doe he live with himself? The ONLY People who are upset that TSG has LGBTQ programming most nights but Disney on other nights are those who are homophobic!!!!!!!!!!!) 

And I truly do not understand how anyone dismisses this stuff or says we are the ones who are wrong. Some of the marketing ploys are blatantly and clearly offensive.  And yet it continues and no one seems to care that D is the only one that could potentially be hurt by this as it is his career that they are jeopardizing.  And M is praised as a role model for disparaging women and members of the LGBT+ community. (YOU are literally claiming that the gay women who runs Dyke Night doesn’t know anything about-or respect - her own community... but YOU do.  SHUT THE FUCK UP ABBY)   

It is revolting (yes you are) and it is really important that we document it and discuss it and continue to highlight it and I don’t care how much hate i get for doing so, people need to realize what they are doing. (The “hate” should be a  HUGE WARNING SIGN Abby. But you see EVERYTHING as proof you are right and it doesn’t matter how hard it is to get to “I’m right”, how much you have to twist the truth or makeup stories about Darren's lack of personal agency, it’s all confirmation bias for you. YOU ARE WRONG and these comments are homophobic).    And maybe it won’t be today, but at some point he will get free from his tormentors who are hell bent on destroying him and we will have the public record of everything they did to actively harm him. Faulty Foundations). 

klaineownsmysoul This is precisely the kind of place that a real pr/management team would work overtime to keep their client away from instead of pushing it relentlessly as a point of pride. There’s nothing remotely redeeming about it and like that farce of a wedding, nothing that reflects D’s personality. It’s beyond tacky and juvenile and straight out of the wheelhouse of a 20 year old frat boy. You expect me to believe that the same person who wrote beautiful songs like “Not Alone” or “TDTDIO” also decided to name a drink period sex? (Yes!!!!!! because people are complex animals.  But also because that same person wrote “Me and MY Dick” =Faulty Foundations).  the words of Trevor Noah, get the fuck out of here. But I’d expect nothing less from his team at this point: a group of people who think class and notoriety are equal. I live for the day when he gets a team to actually support him instead of trying to further themselves through him. (His team by law has to support him but also WHY THE FUCK WOULD HE STICK WIT HTHEM If they weren’t helping him?  He’s not a moron=Faulty Foundations) No one goes to events hoping to see D’s manager on the drums. There are actual musicians out there who are more than qualified. (And yet Darren chose Ricky to play drums for him=Faulty Foundations).   Go do your actual job for a change.

[shions-heart]

Magic in the Being Human AU

@akaashisstar​ asked me to write a more in-depth explanation of the Infinite Bond in my Being Human ‘verse, and I’ve been meaning to make a post about it, but I thought I’d go ahead and explain how magic works as a whole, as well.

Bits and pieces have been revealed throughout the series, but I know some of you have only read Origins, or have only read The Awakening, etc. so I’ll explain everything here. :)

There’s a difference between “demon” magic, and witch magic. I put “demon” in quotations because the demons of this ‘verse aren’t the demons of Judeo-Christian origin. There exists in this AU a multitude of dimensions existing parallel to the “official” dimension that is “our” world, where our volleyball children live. Most of them have harsh environments with creatures that are violent and would sooner kill and eat you than sit down for tea. Humans, even those with magic, would be hard pressed to survive in them, thus they are designated as “Hell” dimensions, as in trying to live in them would be “hell.”

“Demons” are such creatures that live in these dimensions and have evolved through the magical influence of their dimensions to have sentience and intelligence beyond a regular beast. The higher the “Class” of demon, the more intelligent and powerful they are, though the numbers are in ascending order (kinda confusing). In Hinokoku, Malikra is a Class 1 demon, so he is one of the most powerful and intelligent beings in these Hell dimensions. Imps are around a Class 8 or 9, not very powerful, very low intelligence, etc. Then there are various creatures that serve the higher class demons, such as Hell Hounds (Class 3 or 4), which can shape-shift into humanoid form to suit their masters’ needs, and pleasure demons (Class 4 or 5), which are created through the magic of Class 1 or 2 demons. (Malikra created Kenma from his magic, which is explained in Tides Turning, so while Kenma can’t wield magic, he is a magical being that can shape-shift and be sustained off magical and sexual energy, etc. since that’s how he was specifically created)

(point of reference: I borrow heavily from DnD and Mob Psycho 100 for my inspiration in all of this)

this is getting long, so i’ll continue under the cut

All humans in the volleyball children dimension have an aura which is energy that manifests from their soul. Basically, life energy. The first witches discovered through meditation and different rituals that they could “tap into” their auras and use that energy to manipulate their surroundings. The stronger the aura, the more energy could be used. Once the energy has been depleted, the witch must have a full nights’ rest for the energy to store back up. One can also draw their own energy in small amounts to then store it while it’s being replenished so one has “extra” on hand. Think of it like the energy is water from a faucet filling up a bucket, and you can take water as it’s running to fill up a second bucket (or a third, fourth, fifth, etc). There’s no “maximum” amount of water you can store, but there is a minimum you can hit. i.e. if you use too much water and all your buckets are empty, you are depleted until the running water refills your first bucket at least 1/3 of the way.

The more energy (water) that’s stored, or the less energy (water) used for the spell, the longer the magic (water) can be used. And for someone like Bokuto in Tides Turning, a small amount of energy was basically injected directly into his DNA while he was a fetus, so that’s why magic works differently for him, and he can resist the effects of some spells/magic, as the energy is not just in his aura but his physical body as well (and though that bit can never be maximized, it can’t be depleted either, so even if he runs out of water, there’s always a small amount left he can use). 

(I hope that makes sense!!)

Spells were created to help witches concentrate their energy/magic on the task they want to complete. This was taught down generations. (Demons don’t have to use spells, because they are beings evolved from magic, so it’s an intrinsic part of them, and they can will their energy to do whatever they want. Witches can be taught to will their energy without spells, but it’s very difficult because one stray thought or desire can cause the energy to misfire somehow.)

The strength of one’s aura can be hereditary, which is why The House of the White Rose values magical purity and encourages its members to marry only fellow “pureblood” witches. If one has a weak aura, it’s very difficult or even impossible to wield its energy as magic, so to marry a simple human or a witch of mixed blood can cause the aura to weaken. Magic can be “taken away” from a witch by placing a magical “block” around the receptors in the brain that can “tap into” the energy.

ANYWAY, now to Kat’s original question which is “how does the Infinite Bond work??”

so I go a little more in-depth with this in Igniting Fires, when Iwaizumi and Oikawa cast the Infinite Bond spell in Chapter 2. Here’s a quote from that scene:

“The Infinite Bond is a complicated spell, one that takes years to master, and undoing it is just as difficult, possibly even deadly. It binds the auras of two people together, making it so one can’t go more than a few dozen miles away without them both feeling debilitating nausea, and if either of the two are in distress, the other can feel it and pinpoint the location of their partner. It’s said that the Bond knits the two souls together, and while the connection doesn’t work exactly like telepathy, it’s one that grows stronger the longer it holds and the closer the two are to one another, to the point where one can know intimately what the other is feeling at all times.”

It’s described during the scene as two tendrils of golden energy extending out from Iwaizumi’s chest and Oikawa’s chest, meeting in the middle and curling around each other as they continue forward, until Oikawa’s energy enters Iwaizumi’s chest, and Iwaizumi’s energy enters Oikawa’s while wrapped around each other. They continue to burrow into each chest, still coiling around and around, until the spell is completed. Then, the light from the energy fades but doesn’t retreat. So, essentially, there is a string of Oikawa’s aura tangled with Iwaizumi’s, and vice versa, and it’s still there, physically connecting them (that’s why they can’t go too far from each other without adverse side effects, because the strings will stretch too thin). That’s also why it’s described in Igniting Fires as a warm ball in the chest, with the faintest beat like a second heart, since they’re basically feeling the other’s life through the string.

Through this connection, Iwaizumi can tap into Oikawa’s emotions, and vice versa. They longer they’re connected, the easier it is, until they can send and receive emotions and check in with each other’s emotions as effortlessly as breathing. It’s not a completely open channel. One of them has to essentially open the door to feel it and can close the door if they don’t want to feel it, but the door becomes thinner and thinner as the connection continues until even if it is closed, they’d be able to feel at least traces of the other’s emotions. Also, the stronger the emotion, the more it bleeds through the connection, so if one is having a particularly strong emotion the door might not need to be opened at all for the other to feel it, depending on how thin it is.

It’s the same for Semi and Shirabu! Starting out, they’re not as close as Oikawa and Iwaizumi, obviously (as IwaOi was already established and they’d been a couple for years before bonding), so that’s why they didn’t necessarily feel any different once the spell was complete. But as the years go by, the connection will strengthen and the door will grow thinner. I’m pretty sure Semi opens the door to Shirabu much more often than Shirabu does to Semi (he kind of has to since the White Swan Coven Council used the Infinite Bond spell as a way for Semi to keep track of Shirabu’s emotional state and intervene if he feels Shirabu’s in danger of exploding), but the option is available to Shirabu if he wants to know what Semi’s feeling.

Kat also wanted to know what it was like in A Many Splendored Thing for Shirabu while Semi and Tendou were having sex, and I’m guessing that extends to how Semi felt while Shirabu was with Goshiki. ;P

I’ll explore this more in The Awakening sequel, but for Shirabu, he didn’t feel anything when Semi and Tendou were together for their first time, since that takes place only a couple months after they all move in together and Shirabu was on a demon hunting mission while it was taking place. He would’ve been focused on the fight in that instance. I also don’t think, going forward, he would invade Semi’s privacy like that when he knows he’s with Tendou.

Semi, though, I think he would check in with Shirabu while he’s with Goshiki, just to sort of touch base and make sure everything’s okay. Shirabu and Goshiki didn’t have sex until Goshiki’s 20th birthday, a full year and change after they moved in together, so the door would’ve thinned out some, too. I think he would’ve opened it just a crack to make sure Shirabu was good and comfortable with the situation before closing it to give them privacy. 

Pleasure isn’t an emotion, so they wouldn’t feel each other having sex ahaha. If they checked in during the act they’d probably just feel the love the person has for their partner. I don’t know if they’ll ever open that door while having sex with each other; I’m pretty sure that’d overwhelm them ahaha but . . . it’s not out of the realm of possibility for them to try, I suppose~

[astarisms]

i’ve loved you for a thousand years

pairing: dara/nahri word count: 1750 summary: nahri has some news she isn’t sure how to deliver. notes: part of a series of self indulgent, happily ever after oneshots following dara and nahri post-eog. read at your own risk

i will not let anything take away what’s standing in front of me

Nahri knows long before most expectant mothers that she is pregnant. She feels the change in her body as it begins to accommodate new life as acutely as if she’d pricked her finger. It’s the strangest experience, to be so attuned to the development of a second life within her. 

It’s one that fills her simultaneously with warmth and dread. 

In all her dreams for herself, becoming a mother had never been one, not for lack of want of children but because it had seemed out of reach growing up on the streets of Cairo and with the tumultuous circumstances surrounding her marriage to Muntadhir. 

It had never been a realistic dream, and frankly, its importance had paled in comparison to her other ones, so she had kept it carefully out of bounds. 

Now that it’s happening, however, she’s not quite sure what to do with her wild tangle of emotions. 

She has accomplished so much more than she had ever dreamed of. As Daevabad’s chief healer, the director of the hospital, the master that apprentices trained under, and one of the Daeva representatives on Daevabad’s council, the once far fetched desire to study in Istanbul seems vastly underwhelming compared to her reality. 

And yet motherhood seems a far more daunting task than all of her professions combined.

She has never pictured herself as a mother, partly because she has always had bigger aspirations for herself and partly because she has little idea what constitutes a good one. 

Or a present one.

While taking life’s punches in stride has always been a specialty of hers, it’s different when the punch is another life. One she is irrevocably responsible for.

And though it shouldn’t come as a surprise — her and Dara hadn’t been trying but they also hadn’t not been trying — the realization that she is still manages to take her breath away. 

She lays a hand over her stomach, though the life is still far too fragile and new for her to feel anything, and exhales. 

Another adventure, she thinks. 

x

She doesn’t tell Dara right away, even though she’s near bursting at the seams with the news. She knows how much this will mean to him, and even though she still hasn’t sorted through all of her own emotions yet, she can’t deny that she’s excited to share this with him.

Nahri is well aware that after everything, Dara’s dreams are much more humble than her own. She knows that if she wished it, he would be more than willing to content himself with only her and the house on the outskirts of the city he’s building for them, where he can keep a stable. 

She is excited to give him this, this little life growing inside of her that’s equal parts him and her, so that maybe both of their dreams can be complete. 

It’s precisely for this reason that she waits. She knows enough of pregnancy to know that nothing is for certain, especially not so early, and she doesn’t want to give him false hope.

She locks her jaw against the words for one month, and tries to pick through her jumbled thoughts of motherhood.

She presses her lips together for another month, and resigns herself to the fact that she will probably be equal parts fear and tenderness indefinitely.

Near the end of the second month, she sits in her office in the hospital, tuning out the awareness she has for all her patients’ and apprentices’ bodies. 

One manages to slip past the careful wall she puts up to separate herself from her abilities, if only temporarily, but she pauses. This heartbeat is different.

It’s fainter than most, fluttering like the wings of a butterfly. It’s also not coming from around her, almost like it’s coming from within…

“Oh,” she gasps quietly, looking down at her stomach, her own heart stuttering in her chest. 

In the privacy of her office, Nahri laughs. 

x

She has had months to craft the perfect way to tell him, but when she sees him in the courtyard, waiting to walk her home, all of her carefully worded plans dissipate. 

He looks up and smiles at her. It’s a rare day when his demons aren’t snared in his eyes, and seeing that today is one of them, the admission almost comes tumbling from her lips before she realizes they’re not alone. There are others idling in the courtyard, sitting along the edges of the fountain, weaving slowly through the breezeway. 

She smiles at her patients, nodding to them as she makes her way to his side. He respectfully clasps his hands behind his back and walks alongside her, and Nahri can’t tell if she’s annoyed or endeared by how old fashioned he still is. 

They’ve been married for longer than her and Muntadhir had been, and yet Dara still insists on propriety, at least in most instances. 

He asks her about her day and inquires after her patients. For someone who rarely ventures beyond the courtyard and her office, she thinks he might know more about the goings on in her hospital than most of her apprentices, just from listening to her. 

She asks after him as they meander through the streets of the Geziri quarter and through the Grand Bazaar, though the pace is making her restless, eager to be home and deliver the news.

Her Afshin, ever diligent, stops mid sentence to appraise her. 

“Is something wrong?” he asks, and Nahri forces herself to slow down. She has waited two months, but the thought that the reveal was minutes away has her overeager. 

“No,” she says calmly, even as she spots their home in the distance and feels her heartbeat pick up in anticipation. “Just the opposite, in fact.”

“Oh?” He sounds curious but she resists glancing at him because she feels the words rising inside of her, trying to escape before she wants them to. 

She hums in affirmation, her eye trained on their door growing closer with every step. 

“Is this news you feel like sharing,” he inquires lightly, “or shall I start guessing?”

“That might be fun.”

“Is it that Bahram has finally passed his stones?” he guesses, and she can’t help the snort that escapes her. She feels only mildly guilty for it. She knows that diamonds were no easy stone to pass, but Bahram is so insufferable and demanding in his complaints, she might have guessed he had swallowed them himself just so he might have an excuse. 

“If only the Creator would be so gracious,” she teases. She meets his amused gaze, and glances away just as swiftly as they reach their door. 

“Hmm… could it be—“

“Dara.” He closes his mouth immediately as they slip inside and Nahri shuts the door behind them. “I’ve been keeping something from you.”

He raises a brow, looking at her expectantly. 

She should wait until they get comfortable, until they’re doing something other than standing in the doorway, but Nahri is tired of waiting.

She takes a deep breath.

“I’m pregnant.”

She watches him closely for his reaction, but it’s like he’s frozen in place, staring at her. She searches his expression for something, any indication of how he’s feeling, but there’s nothing for a long moment.

Then he blinks.

“I— you…” His eyes drop to her stomach, and then dart back up to her face. “Come again?” he asks weakly, and all the humor he’d previously possessed has disappeared.

“I’m pregnant, Dara,” she says, softer this time. She steps closer to him and takes his hand, pressing it against her stomach and holding it there, even though she knows the fetus is still much too small for there to be any indication of its presence that he can see or feel. “We’re going to have a baby.” 

He’s looking at her stomach again, where their hands are laid over it, but when he meets her eyes again, his are damp. She smiles and reaches up to catch a tear as it falls, despite his efforts to blink them away.

“Truly?” His voice has dropped to a whisper, as if he’s afraid anything louder might shatter this moment. Nahri smiles and nods, feeling tears prick at her own eyes.

“I can hear the heartbeat. Feel it. I wanted to wait to tell you until I was sure…” she trails off, because the look of wonder that crosses Dara’s face steals her breath. She hadn’t been sure whether or not he’d be upset at her keeping this from him for so long, but seeing him now washes all those fears away. 

“There’s a heartbeat?” he asks, fingers flexing under hers, as if he could feel it himself if he tries hard enough. Nahri nods again, the weight of his reaction stealing her words. 

She had known, always known, that he wanted children. She had known that not being able to have them, to give them to her, had devastated him, once upon a time. But nothing could have prepared her for this, for the way his hand trembled underneath hers, the way his breath caught, the disbelief and joy blurred beneath the tears clinging to his lashes. 

To her, children had never been the miracle people claimed they were. She had figured out the mechanics of growing another life and she had been a firsthand witness to the devastation it wrought on those around her.

But now, she thinks she might understand the sentiment. To Dara, this was a miracle. A dream that had been stolen from him so long ago, only for it to finally be in reach.

Her heart stutters in her chest and for the first time she doesn’t feel any of that familiar fear, the uncertainty that comes with parenthood. How could she, when her partner is so eager and ready? 

They had started this adventure together that night in a Cairo graveyard, and went their separate ways for years, growing individually until they were ready to fit together again. And she’d be lying to herself if she said she hasn’t been wanting another one with him. 

Dara sinks to his knees in front of her, and Nahri smiles so wide her cheeks hurt when he kisses her knuckles, then her stomach underneath. He’s murmuring something into the fabric of her gown that she doesn’t catch until she leans down to brush her lips over his hair, thrilled to be sharing this moment with him.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, reverently. “Thank you.”

[anamericangirl]

Refuting some of the most common abortion arguments 

Since abortion has been pretty much everywhere in the news recently what with the new bills in places like Alabama and Ohio, and because abortion is one of the most important topics to me, I decided to make one post that covers my responses to pretty much every argument for abortion that I have ever seen. If I miss an argument or you’ve heard one that I haven’t, feel free to add on to the list, or disagree with me or ignore it completely. I intend to add this post as time goes on with my responses to more abortion arguments as I want to a compile them all together. Be warned I am going to be as thorough as I can so this will be a rather lengthy post. 

“My body, my choice”

This is probably the most common argument I see to try and justify abortion. This argument has always been used for abortion and continues to be used today even though it is a scientific fact that the unborn baby is not part of the woman’s body, it is a completely separate human body that is connected to the woman’s body through the umbilical cord. One of the main reasons that the umbilical cord exists is to connect the baby to the mother. The baby has its own DNA, its own heart, its own brain, its own nervous system, etc. all completely separate from the parent. To use the argument “my body, my choice” to fight for abortion, you literally have to deny science and it is astonishing to me that so many people are willing to do this in order to kill the unborn. I will examine this argument further under the “bodily autonomy” section. 

“Abortion is a constitutional right”

No, it is not. It is not a right at all. A good indication that abortion is not a constitutional right is that it is not mentioned anywhere in the Constitution itself. If something is a constitutional right then chances are you will see that right specifically written into the document itself. People claim abortion is a constitutional right because of Roe v Wade, but Roe v Wade is actually about the right to privacy. What the courts decided was that the due process clause in the fourteenth amendment gives everyone the right to privacy and that the right to privacy means a woman can choose whether or not to have an abortion. But let’s look at this section of the amendment ourselves and see what it says. 

Amendment XIV

Section 1.

All persons born or naturalized in the United States, and subject to the jurisdiction thereof, are citizens of the United States and of the state wherein they reside. No state shall make or enforce any law which shall abridge the privileges or immunities of citizens of the United States; nor shall any state deprive any person of life, liberty, or property, without due process of law; nor deny to any person within its jurisdiction the equal protection of the laws.

The bolded part is the section that the Supreme Court decided meant that we have the right to privacy and that right to privacy gives the right to an abortion, but as we can see, it clearly does not give the right to an abortion. Allowing abortion actually violates that very right because the unborn are being legally deprived of life, liberty or property without due process and being denied equal protection of the laws and this is a much stronger argument for the fact that abortion is unconstitutional because we can actually see these very things protected in the Constitution. 

Just because the Supreme Courts decides that something is a constitutional right does not make it so. Something being in the Constitution makes it a constitutional right. They just decided that particular section protects “the right” to an abortion, but it doesn’t because it was never meant to and a group of people deciding after the fact that they are going to use a section of the Constitution to pretend abortion is a right, does not mean that the Constitution gives that right. Like, if the Supreme Court decided that free speech was not a protected constitutional right any longer, they would be wrong because the protection of free speech is written into the Constitution and will always be a protected right regardless of what the Supreme Court says. You cannot read between the lines and stretch the amendments of the Constitution to add rights to it that are not in there. We cannot say “it says this one thing, but we’ve decided it means this other thing.” The rights are either in there or they are not and the entire Roe v Wade decision is unconstitutional.

“Pro-life is about men controlling women’s bodies” 

This is incorrect and a good hint that we are not interested in controlling women’s bodies is that literally no one cares what you do with your body until there is another completely separate human life and body inside of you. If being pro-life was about controlling the bodies of women, we would be concerned about more than just abortion. We’re not interested in your body at all. Do whatever you want with any part of it. We are just trying to save the life of the baby growing inside you that is not part of your body. The body inside your body is the one we are concerned about. 

Also, this is very important to know, there are a large number of pro-life women. I am one of them. Acting like all women are pro-choice is ignorant. Abortion is not a men vs women issue and the sooner you realize that the better. Besides, it was literally a group of men that decided Roe v Wade so try to be consistent with your beliefs. 

“It’s not a [insert term here], it’s a fetus”

There are several variations of this argument. I’ve heard so many such as it’s not alive, it’s not a human, it’s not a person, it’s not a baby, it’s a fetus. The pro-choice side cannot seem to agree on what the fetus is or is not, they just know that it’s a fetus. And they are correct about that one point. After the eighth week of conception, the unborn baby is considered a fetus. But no pro-choice person I’ve ever spoken to has bothered to explain what they think a fetus is, even when asked. They seem to think that simply saying “it’s a fetus” is enough explanation as to why the unborn are not people, as if a fetus is a completely different life form or species than a human being, but that’s scientifically inaccurate. 

If we look up the definition of a fetus, we get this: an unborn offspring of a mammal, in particular an unborn human baby more than eight weeks after conception.

So when pro-choice people argue that it’s just a fetus, that’s not a good argument for why a woman should be allowed to get an abortion because fetus just means it’s an unborn baby that is more than eight weeks after conception. Acknowledging it’s a fetus is not denying that it’s a living, breathing human being.  

To deny that the fetus is not a person from conception is to, again, deny science. From the moment of fertilization, the baby’s genetic make-up is complete, including its sex.  And once we get to the point of development where the baby is called a fetus the facial features, which have been developing since the first few weeks continue to develop, ears are beginning to form as are arms, legs, fingers, toes, and eyes. It also has a pretty well formed neural tube and bone is beginning to replace cartilage and the digestive tract and sensory organs are beginning to develop and by this time it typically has a distinguishable head and heartbeat. I do not know what else this could be other than a living person and no pro-choice argument I’ve ever heard has been able to explain why the fetus is not a person, or whatever they are going to claim it’s not.

“It’s a clump of cells/parasite”

Technically, it is correct that the fetus is a clump of cells. But it’s technically correct that we are all a clump of cells. They use this term to dehumanize the unborn and see it as just a random mass of cells that is just hanging out inside the woman’s uterus. But this is another denial of science from the pro-choice side. It is a clump of cells that is rapidly growing and developing as a human being and if left to develop will grow all the way into an adult. 

I also have to address the argument that the fetus is nothing more than a parasite because that is an outrageous denial of science, but I should not be surprised at this point. Let’s look at the definition of parasite: an organism that lives in or on an organism of another species (its host) and benefits by deriving nutrients at the other's expense.

We can see right away that the fetus is in no way shape or form a parasite as a parasite is an organism that is on or in an organism of another species. The fetus is an organism that is the same species as the mother. Also, it does not derive nutrients at the expense of the mother so there is nothing parasitic about it. Whoever makes this claim knows either nothing about parasites, fetal development or both. 

“Bodily autonomy”

Bodily autonomy or integrity is considered a right that we have to govern our own bodies and it is why people cannot be forced to donate blood or organs even if would save a person’s life. A person does not have to allow someone else to use their body without their continuous consent even once the person has died, which is why people on the pro-choice side often claim that a woman has “fewer rights than a corpse” and that the baby “needs consent” to use the woman’s body and, at face value, this does seem like a pretty solid argument for abortion, but let’s examine this right of bodily autonomy and see if it actually protects “the right” to an abortion. Spoiler alert: it doesn’t. 

If we look in the Constitution, there is no such right mentioned. It, in fact, says nothing about a person’s right to their own body. Supreme court cases such as Griswold v Connecticut, Roe v Wade, and McFall v Shrimp are used to support this bodily autonomy claim. Griswold v Connecticut gave women the freedom to obtain birth control without marital consent, Roe v Wade said abortion was allowed under the right to privacy and McFall v Shrimp ruled that people could not be forced to donate blood, organs or tissue, even to save a life. So there is a theme of bodily autonomy here and bodily autonomy is something that people should definitely have, but this is not really an absolute right. There are several laws that infringe on this right to bodily autonomy such as forced blood tests, laws that require people to wear helmets and seat belts, laws that prevent euthanasia, drug use, etc. So bodily autonomy is not something that cannot be limited and is not always an applicable defense and it’s not applicable in abortion cases and there are several reasons why. 

You cannot fairly compare abortion to organ donation because they are two very different things. No right that we have gives us the right to actively end another person’s life. Not donating an organ is not actively killing someone even if the person ends up dying as a result. With an abortion, you are actively and intentionally ending the life of a perfectly healthy person that would have lived without your interference. This is comparing apples and oranges because one is a case of not donating an organ to someone and the other is a case of intentionally ending the life of a perfectly healthy person. Hopefully, you can see the difference there. 

There is also the fact that ownership rights are not absolute. This bodily autonomy argument that it is your body and therefore, you can do whatever you want with it or anything in it is technically seen as “property rights”. Mary Anne Warren, a pro-choice philosopher actually explains why this is not a strong argument for abortion in her work “On the Moral and Legal Status of Abortion”, which she was actually writing to say abortion should be permissible in all cases. However, she explains the flaws of the “my body, my choice” argument by saying: 

These arguments are typically of one of two sorts. Either they point to the terrible side effects of the restrictive laws, e.g., the deaths due to illegal abortions, and the fact that it is poor women who suffer the most as a result of these laws, or else they state that to deny a woman access to abortion is to deprive her of her right to control her own body. Unfortunately, however, the fact that restricting access to abortion has tragic side effects does not, in itself, show that the restrictions are unjustified, since murder is wrong regardless of the consequences of prohibiting it; and the appeal to the right to control ones body, which is generally construed as a property right, is at best a rather feeble argument for the permissibility of abortion. Mere ownership does not give me the right to kill innocent people whom I find on my property, and indeed I am apt to he held responsible if such people injure themselves while on my property. It is equally unclear that I have any moral right to expel an innocent person from my property when I know that doing so will result in his death.

On this point, Warren is absolutely correct. Using the bodily autonomy argument is a very weak argument because of the fact that there are limitations to this right and these limitations are present when another body is involved. You do not have an absolute right to do anything you want to someone just because you possess ownership of the area in which they are located.

The idea that the baby must have consent is nonsense as well. The rules of consent are different when one of the people involved is incapable of consent. Consent is given when you choose to engage in acts that the biological function of is to create human life. A baby does not invade the uterus, it is made and placed there by two people who chose to take the risk of creating it. You cannot revoke consent once the action has happened. You can revoke consent to sex before you have it, but not after. You can revoke consent to organ donation before the transplant, but not after. You cannot revoke consent to pregnancy once you are pregnant and the baby exists because to do so, you have to actively and intentionally kill a human being which you have absolutely no right to do. 

Almost done here, but I want to touch on the question of rights because this point is founded on the idea that people have a right to bodily autonomy. The baby inside the mother is also a person and, as a person, it has rights. To say that you believe in the right to bodily autonomy and then in the same breath are willing to deny that right to the baby, shows that you do not actually value this right. You are just trying to justify abortion. If you claim that you are concerned about human rights but deny all rights that the baby has as a living person, then you don’t care about human rights. Period. The baby, like all human beings, has the right to life and that is a right that we can actually see is explicitly protected in the Constitution and it is the most important human right because, without it, you can have no other rights. And without question, it trumps the right to bodily autonomy. You cannot use your own rights to violate the rights of another person.

Last point on this topic: think about the fact that it is considered harmful for women to smoke or ingest drugs or alcohol while pregnant because of the damage it can do to the baby and if we believe that knowingly harming the baby while in utero is wrong, then knowingly killing it is even worse. 

“The fetus cannot feel pain”

This has not been proven scientifically and is definitely not true throughout the entire pregnancy. There is scientific evidence to suggest that the fetus is able to experience pain by 26 weeks gestation, which is the last week of the second trimester and fetuses have been seen reacting negatively to painful stimuli so to just state that it cannot feel pain as if this is a scientific fact is incredibly ignorant as this has not been proven to be true. 

However, this entire claim does nothing against pro-life arguments because our position is not that you shouldn’t kill innocent people unless it will be a painless procedure for them, our position is you shouldn’t kill innocent people regardless of whether they can feel pain or not. 

“The fetus is not viable”

A pregnancy before 22 weeks is considered a “non-viable” pregnancy, where the baby would not be able to survive if delivered. But we don’t generally use viability as a justification for killing people and it should not be used here, either. Depending on someone else for survival does not make it okay to kill that person. A newborn baby is completely dependent on its parents and will die on its own and we don’t think it’s okay to kill them. Viability is not a determination of human worth and is not a justification for ending human life, especially when we know that the life will be viable if left to grow and develop naturally. 

“What about rape and incest?”

I rarely have a debate on abortion without the pro-choice person bringing this up. With how often the pro-choice crowd uses this argument, you would think that abortions from rape and incest account for a substantial amount of abortion cases. However, this is not the case. I% of abortions are because of rape and .05% are due to incest. The two leading reasons given for obtaining an abortion were that having a baby would dramatically change the woman’s life and that they couldn’t afford a baby at the moment. 

So the fact that pro-choicers resort to using the minority of cases to argue for the whole is incredibly fallacious. It is very easy to figure out that rape and incest are not their real concern with abortion and they are just using this argument to get you to say abortion is okay, if you say to them, “If I agree in those cases that abortion is okay, will you agree that all other abortions are not okay?” And then you really see what they are doing because they will never agree to that because to them all abortions are okay and they are trying to get you to be okay with all abortions because 1% of them are due to rape. It’s an incredibly weak and transparent argument that is very easy to knock down because if they were really arguing for all abortion to be okay, they would not be using the 1% of cases to justify it. 

But to answer this question, no, I don’t think abortion is okay in cases of rape or incest. We’ve already established that the unborn is a living, breathing human being from conception and the way it was conceived does not change this fact. In cases of rape, the rapist should be caught and thrown into prison for the rest of their life and the woman should be given all the help and support she can get. Abortion does not take away the trauma of rape and what it essentially being done here is a baby is being killed because their mother got raped. Even the life of a person conceived through rape is valuable. There are multiple resources available for women who have gone through the traumatic experience of rape and I think she should be helped through this experience. The answer to trauma is not getting rid of whatever induces the trauma. You’ll never get better that way. The goal should be helping the person be no longer traumatized.

And I see no reason why it should be acceptable to kill someone just because they are the product of incest. 

“Without access to abortion women will die”

There is a term for this kind of argument and that is called fearmongering. It’s also an incredibly hypocritical argument for any pro-choice person to make because, in order to do so, they have to outright ignore the millions of babies, a good number of which are female, die every year because of abortion. In November of 2018, the last available data of abortion statistics was for 2015 and in the US alone there were nearly 640,000 abortions performed. That is 640,000 dead babies and it’s estimated that there are around 40-50 million abortions performed worldwide every year. So this argument is literally saying “we have to make it legal to kill babies because otherwise, some women might die due to illegal abortions.” And, not surprisingly, there is no credible statistical evidence that shows that the death rate of women increases without access to legal abortion. 

In an article from the Atlantic, where they are actually arguing for abortion rights, they acknowledge that even when abortion is illegal, women rarely die. They cite statistics from the Guttmacher Institute that looked at countries where abortion is illegal and found that 8-11% of maternal deaths were caused by botched abortions. 

Abortion rates increased significantly after Roe v Wade, which implies that the majority of women are not seeking illegal abortions when abortion is not legal. This is, again, a fallacious argument where they are using a minority of cases to argue for the whole.  

“What about if the mother will die without an abortion?”

There are hardly any cases where abortion is medically necessary but the majority of pro-life people, myself included, say that in cases where the mother will die abortion should be allowed because, usually, that means the baby is already dead or if it’s not, if the mother doesn’t live, then the baby won’t either. I don’t think I’ve seen a single pro-life person say abortion should not be allowed if the mother is going to die. This usually doesn’t satisfy the pro-choice crowd, though, because that still means we are against most abortions because that’s not a very common occurrence. They want to make the rule based on the exception and that’s not how the world works. 

“If you’re pro-life, you should be against the death penalty and for gun control”

Being pro-life means that I believe every person has the right to live their life until they die a natural death or forfeit that right based on their own choices. The way you forfeit your right to life is by murdering another human being. The death penalty is typically reserved for people who commit first-degree murder and if you take someone else’s life unjustly, you forfeit your own right to life.

Gun control does not save lives and there is no reason that a person who is pro-life should support gun control. It’s ironic that anyone who argues that abortion is a constitutional right would try to use this argument because the right to bear arms is literally a constitutional right that you can actually find listed in the Constitution, unlike abortion. With a person’s right to life comes the right to protect their life, and the best way to do that with a gun. Statistics show that defensive gun use saves up to 3 million lives per year which is 80 times more often then they are used to take lives so knowing this, I find it hard to believe that anyone would want to unarm people and make it nearly impossible to defend themselves from an attack on their lives. It makes perfect sense for a pro-life person to oppose gun control laws. 

Instead of making it a whole separate point, I’m going to throw in here that I’ve seen a ton of pro-choice people use an argument like “if you’re pro-life you would support universal healthcare, welfare programs, etc.”, which is just them setting up a poor premise that states that if you don’t agree with them about all politics, then you can’t really be pro-life and that, of course, is pure nonsense.

“What if the child will be poor/disabled/abused” 

The fact that someone would even think to make this argument sickens me, but it is quite a common one. A person’s life is not worth less because they are poor, have a disability, or suffering from abuse. You cannot stop people from suffering, everyone will face hardship and it is not merciful to kill people instead of letting them live, even if they are going to deal with poverty or disability. Who are you to decide that it’s better for a child to be dead than poor? You don’t get to decide that someone else’s life isn’t worth living. Children who are poor can get out of poverty. Some of the world’s most successful people had poverty stricken childhoods. Some of the world’s most successful people have disabilities. Some of the world’s most successful people have suffered abuse. The solution to these issues is not killing people who might go through them. This is not a sympathetic, merciful argument to make, it’s disgusting. 

“No child should be born unwanted”

I can definitely agree with this sentiment, but using it as a justification for abortion is another sickening argument. You can pretend that it’s a moral argument on your side where you want all children to be loved and cared for, but you are literally saying that if a child isn’t wanted, that child should be killed. The child should be placed with people who want it, not killed. 

“The adoption/foster system is broken and lots of kids aren’t adopted”

The thing about this argument that really bothers me is that their position is instead of fixing a broken system, we kill children so they don’t have to go through it and that’s somehow better. Why is killing the kids always the solution to these problems? Lots of kids aren’t adopted it’s true, but a lot of kids are also adopted. And in many instances, there are literally waiting lists of people who are looking to adopt babies. Chances are if you don’t want your child, there is someone else who does. 

The adoption/foster system isn’t perfect, it’s true, but I think the solution to that is making the system better, not killing children. 

“You’re only pro-life until the baby is born/gay/trans/etc.”

I find it funny that the “would you be pro-life if the fetus was gay?” is considered to be such a gotcha question when I’ve never heard a single pro-life person say they would support abortion if the baby was going to be gay. In fact, I will only consider this a valid argument deserving of a response when the person making the argument can give at least one example of a pro-life person being okay with aborting a baby if they knew it would be gay. So far, that hasn’t happened. 

As for the idea that we are only pro-life until the baby is born, that is utter nonsense. The people who make this argument are trying to tell us that if we don’t think it’s okay to kill someone, then we should assume responsibility for that person. It’s the most pathetic attempt at virtue signaling because at the same time that they are trying to assert that we only care about the lives of these kids until they are born they are not caring about them at all and are advocating for a mother to be able to kill them. It’s laughable that you think you’re the morally superior one when you make this argument. You’re telling me I don’t care about certain people while you are literally saying it should be legal to kill them. How does me wanting to save their lives and you wanting it to be legal to take their lives mean you care about them and I don’t?

“Don’t like abortion, don’t have one”

Generally, the idea presented here is one I agree with. We all are free to do as we like and if you don’t like something, the solution is not to do it yourself, not prevent other people from doing it. This argument ceases to work, however, when the thing in question is harming another human being, which is what abortion does. It is the goal of abortion to kill someone and genocide of unborn babies is not something that I will shrug my shoulders about and act like it’s not my business just because I’m not going to have one killed. Using that argument to justify abortion is exactly like using it to argue for other things that are harmful to people. Here are some examples:

“Don’t like slavery, don’t own slaves.”

“Don’t like murder, don’t murder anyone.”

When the lives or well-being of other people are directly threatened by your actions, then it becomes a societal issue and not a personal one. 

--

Anyway, I know this is long and there are plenty of arguments I didn’t address. I just wanted to address the ones that I encounter most often. Abortion is inarguably the killing of a human being and to say anything else is a denial of science and that human life deserves to be protected, which is why I am pro-life. These arguments for abortion are all flawed and based on scientific and factual inaccuracies and they need to be addressed so that people know they need to stop using them. 

[momtemplative]

Four Seeds.

Very little experiential information comes in from the outside world these days. The ports, energetic and literal, are closed for the foreseeable future. The ships have been docked.

So, every piece and part and bit of this house—as well as the people in it—suddenly feel like they are all posing for extreme close-ups. Corners that had been ignored for time immemorial are now simply untenable—how did I not notice that mess before? The top shelves that were wooly with dust are now slick and glossy. Random shoe boxes that had morphed into being part of the shelves (we began to stack things on top of them) have been cracked open like time capsules—so that’s where all the finger puppets went! Jesse even cleaned out his desk when he brought it upstairs and found the plastic polka-dot costume-jewelry rings we used to get married at the courthouse, two weeks before our actual wedding twelve years ago!  

There are many treasures yet to uncover.

We also observe the bliss that comes from the alignment of two glorious things: decent weather and a spacious backyard. When we bought this house twelve years ago, we had no idea that our backyard would become such a cherished commodity. That, come Spring of 2020, we’d be rejoicing every single day we stepped foot on our chipped-up deck and muddy yard.

The yard is the scenic backdrop to a heavy percentage of our day. A few days ago, the dog gallivanted passed with a dead fetus of a mole rat dangling from his lips, and then dropped the rubbery carcass at his feet. I screeched and Ruthy heard that screech and ran my way yelling “What is it, Mama?!!” And, well, it felt as if all of humanity was contained in that tiny moment.

A while back, we planted five bean seeds that we got as a gift from my sister-in-law’s baby shower. We—Ruth and I—placed them deeply in rich soil in a medium-sized terra cotta pot. During the few days, Ruth treated the pot like a tiny sandbox for her toy figurines. I reminded her that dirt-play was for outside and told her we need to protect the baby seeds if we want them to grow. So, she flooded them with water then covered the soil with an entire bag of cotton balls to “Keep them warm.” 

I reluctantly removed the terra cotta pot from the front window where it received the best lighting and radiating warmth, but where it was equally under threat of Ruth’s tiny fingers and endless curiosity. I placed the pot temporarily on the porch, safely out of reach but still in the (albeit chillier) sun. Then I promptly forgot to bring it inside that night when the temperatures plummeted. (When I awoke and peered out the front door to see the little pot out there, soil nearly frozen, my heart sank. I figured those guys were goners.)

The pot wound up on an out-of-reach shelf, then the kitchen table, then the back deck. It went through multiple re-locations, temperatures and lighting variations, all to keep it safe from little fingers that love nothing more than the feel of dirt.

It felt like one of those social experiments that was forced on the youth of yesteryear in school, where they had to pretend to be a parent to an egg, a watermelon, a doll, something non-sentient. There I was, taking painstaking care of my terra-cotta pot filled with, what appeared to be, just soil.

If I’m being honest, I was sure we had abused those five little bean seeds well beyond growth. I tried to imagine their little cosmos beneath the soil. Was it a forgiving place? Ahhh well, I thought. Damn shame.

Until, a few more days later, Opal called from the kitchen— “MOM!!! LOOK!”

I found her peering at my terra cotta pot with a wide grin. Behold, there were four tiny sprouts that had harnessed all their imperial magic, their godly juices, their tiny but most potent life forces to come forth into the world.

Once they broke through to the open air, nothing could hold them back. They grew so quickly you could almost see it with bare eyes. We paid close attention and reported on them numerous times a day. “How are the spouts?” “Honey can you check on the sprouts?” “Is the soil dry?”

I returned them to the front window because I couldn’t resist the accommodations, even if I did notice occasional dirty piles around the edges of the pot alongside a Daniel Tiger Figurine waist-deep in the dirt. But at that point, the sprouts seems less vulnerable, more teenage-like. If they were out in the garden, they'd have to hold their own with any-which backyard creature. I figured now they could handle—benefit from, even—some light adversity.

They got so tall I had to tie them with pipe-cleaners to a stick, for lack of a trellis. I’d have waited a bit longer to plant them if I had expected them to thrive so suddenly and so wildly. We needed just a little more time before they could go into the outside vegetable bed. But they were clearly outgrowing their home in the pot, like the hermit crab in the book Ruth had been reading in preschool before the shut-down.

Then one morning, Ruth emerged from behind her play tent wearing a backpack for pretend school, slouching from its visible weight on her shoulders.

“Whew, this backpack is HEA-VY!” she said, fishing for the acknowledgement of her strength from either Jesse or I or both who were in the vicinity.

She trailed off in another direction, audibly talking to herself about the plants.

Jesse and I exchanged a look of precise understanding and quick-stepped in her direction.

Indeed, Ruth had crammed the entire potted plant into her small backpack.

I gasped when I saw the sprouts, a good 10 inches tall now, shoved to fit in there, like unruly hairs manhandled into a fitted cap. To her credit, she must’ve put the pot into her backpack with some level of care, because there was very little dirt in there. She even packed the little tray underneath! She also left the zipper open to give them air. But the sprouts— those fragile strands that had already weathered so much—were discolored from their bends and from where the leaves had snapped or bent straight in half.

Oh dear. I said.

“I just wanted to bring them to show and tell,” Ruth said. Eyes waiting and hungry, like gaping vessels for us to tell her how she should feel right now. 

Jesse said. “Oh honey, it was an accident. You didn’t know.” Sweet girl was as proud of those small-scale bits enchantment as I was. Proud enough to take them to pretend show and tell. 

I extracted the terra cotta pot from the backpack with nimble surgeon fingers. I placed it on the kitchen table, the way a paramedic would lift a body that had sustained an uncertain amount of injuries onto a gurney. I tried to smooth out the sprouts as if I were running my fingers through hair, avoiding the larger knots. I released a bloated, audible exhale.

And that is where the four wounded sprouts currently reside—in their own little personal ICU—until we receive further information. Time will tell.

March 30, 2020

[lain-solus]

(JUDE LAW / 43 / HE/HIM ) – (Dr. Lain Solus) has been spotted in the castle. they said to originally be from Royston, Hertfordshire (UK)  and is often seen to be (stubborn) but seemingly (innovative). After being in Wolfenstein for (5 years), they’ve come to be (hesitant of the council) in their own way. They work as a (pharmacist) and are known around these parts as (the alchemist). better watch your back with that one around.

A LIST OF (AT LEAST) 6 AESTHETICS FOR THIS CHARACTER: 1. A wet specimen of a Rhesus Monkey fetus preserved in a dusty old jar. 2. A grimy lab coat stained with blood and various reagents. 3. A round bottom flask bubbling over with fluorescent aqueous mixture. 4. A book of anatomical illustrations, all pages yellowed from age. 5. Broken mirrors. 6. Equations and calculations haphazardly written on walls. 7. Liquid mercury. 8. Two hands, palms open and then superimposed on each other, a visual representation of a chiral molecule. 9.  Bio-luminescent E.coli pumped through a series of clear tubes to light up a room.

Hey yall my name’s Chloe and I’m here to fuck shit up.

THE SONG YOU SEE AS THIS CHARACTERS THEME: Yellow Box - The Neighbourhood

I'm dying to live again I'm doing my best

I got a feeling And it ain't leaving, no, it ain't leaving Hard time believing if I don't see it Like a secret, you lie to keep it, oh

(AT LEAST) THREE HEADCANON: (character headcanons) TW: ILLNESS, TW: DEATH, TW: OVERDOSE, TW: DRUG USE

An early infatuation with comprehending how things work has been the primary drive over the course of Lain’s life. He was adopted when he was a year old by an older couple that were unable to have children. He was fortunate enough to grow up in a household that encouraged his desire to seek to understand the environment around him. Being considered gifted in the areas of math and science came with additional pressure to succeed, to not let such a gift go to waste.  His mother and father did their best to ensure that Lain received only the best education, sending him to a private STEM based boarding school when he was eight.  Living away from home was incredibly difficult, but making friends was easy considering he was now surrounded by other nerds with similar interests.  He went on to attend Cambridge University, seeking an undergraduate degree in nuclear engineering.  But the second semester of his freshman year, his picture perfect life burst into flames.  His mother was diagnosed with ALS, a terminal disease with no known cure.  A brilliant mind, trapped in a rapidly failing body.  The doctors gave her a year to live; she made it six months.  Lain nearly flunked out of school, he turned to drugs and alcohol as a means to escape the suffering that was reality.  After waking up in the hospital after an intentional overdose, he was given an ultimatum by his father: go to rehab and get clean, or he would no longer be paying for his education. During his rehabilitation, he began to heavily question the path he was taking in his life, why everything seemed to spiraling out of control.  He switched majors when he returned to his studies, instead choosing to pursue organic chemistry. He made it through undergrad and went on to attend pharmacy school, obtaining a doctorate in pharmacology from Cardiff University.  Lain went on to conduct pharmaceutical research at a private lab in Ireland for the next decade.

He was at a conference at the World Health Organization in Geneva, Switzerland when the lines of transportation were cut. Some of the world’s greatest minds gathered to compile their discoveries in desperation that someone knew how to stop the virus. When the announcement came that everyone in the complex was now stranded, panic and chaos soon followed.  Riots broke out, data was stolen, many died fighting to defend their discoveries from the hands of thieves.  Weeks had passed before the first helicopters arrived, rations and moral at an all time low.  An offer was extended to Dr. Solus, come to Austria and continue to research a compound that would halt the extinction event in its tracks.  With his back against the wall, Lain made his choice.  So he carefully packed the few items he could salvage from the ransacked laboratory into a suitcase and came to Wolfenstein.

Carrying what feels like the weight of the world is beginning to take its toll on the pharmacist. A castle full of survivors in need of medications, some of which are impossible to manufacture given Lain’s rudimentary laboratory.  Meanwhile, beyond the stone fortress, the infection continues to spread like wildfire from host to host.  With every precious second that slips away, humanity drifts closer and closer to imminent extinction looming on the horizon. Every minute breakthrough the pharmacist makes raises many more questions than actual answers.  He is constantly experimenting with both organic and synthetic compounds to try to formulate a vaccine to halt the spread of the virus. As he searches frantically for a cure, Lain cannot help but feel as though he’s aboard a sinking ship.  If a solution is even possible, is there anyone left outside the stronghold worth saving?

A pharmaceutical researcher turned clandestine biochemist, Lain can usually be found in his laboratory when he’s not assisting at the hospital.  Since he’s been at Wolfenstein, he has been able to craft a handful of drugs (most of which were synthesized from plants and fungi) that are capable of easing pain and stopping the spread of some infections.  But the cure for the virus continues to exceed his grasp.

He is fully aware of the expectations laid upon him, yet strives to exceed far beyond them.  He treats his body like a damn machine, often forgetting to take well earned breaks and will continue to push onward until he is physically unable to do so.  He’s always going and going and going, because once he’s idle the self-doubt and intrusive thoughts come creeping in.  Talkative, driven, obsessive and selfless are all words that can be used to describe Dr. Solus.

He is distrustful of the council, but understands that it is a necessary evil.  While he appreciates that they would try to keep democracy alive (or at least the facade of it) by allowing a select few to aid in decision making, however, he thinks that is unfair that voting rights are not extended to all members of the compound.

He is currently in the process of training an apprentice (hello wanted connection) in case something happens to him.

He can probably put your character to sleep just with his excessive talking, but if that doesn’t work, there’s always morphine!

[nebris]

The Harm Done for White Men

The new attacks on Roe v. Wade are about protecting men, not women

Part of President Trump’s new immigration proposal is something called “patriotic assimilation.” It’s a euphemism for an immigrant entry exam that evokes the Jim Crow literacy tests used to disenfranchise black voters. One administration official told the Washington Post that green-card applicants would be required to pass an exam based on such everyday American household dinner topics as Thomas Jefferson’s letter to the Danbury Baptist Association.

That is a perplexing choice for the administration, given the timing. That letter, dated January 1, 1802, is the foundation of many understandings of the First Amendment when it comes to the separation of church and state. That is anything but what we saw this week, as their Republican allies in statehouses throughout the Midwest and South pushed through unconstitutional, misogynist and pseudoscientific restrictions on abortion.

In my native Ohio, a child who is raped might not even know she is pregnant before she runs out of time to abort her rapist’s fetus. Missouri sent its eight-week restriction to its eager Republican governor for signature on Friday. And Alabama’s law, arguably the most barbaric of them all, criminalizes the procedure from the moment of conception and carries a prison sentence for doctors of up to 99 years. That is a much longer bid than the maximum any rapist in the state could get, all while his victim is forced to bear his child. Each law, in its own way, subjugates women and girls — and since white women statistically have greater access to the procedure, signals a specific attack on women of color. This is a particular issue in Georgia, where noted vote suppressor Brian Kemp is governor. Under the law scheduled to go into effect on January 1st, women who self-terminate their pregnancies can be imprisoned for life or executed, thereby accomplishing two goals: subduing them for their gender, and taking away their ballot. (Men who impregnated them, per the law, suffer no consequence.)

It has been plain for a while now that the anti-abortion cause has nothing to do with actual deities or morality. If it did, it wouldn’t put the lives of doctors, patients and clinic employees in jeopardy to make its argument. States would be more concerned with their terrible infant mortality rates than they would about saving fetuses. Ending reproductive rights in America has never been about anything holy. Anti-abortionists like to remind us of Planned Parenthood founder Margaret Sanger’s statements about eugenics or claim they’re trying to stop a “black genocide,” but their movement was born to keep white patriarchy alive. And it is white men who are the primary beneficiaries of such policies.

As Politico Magazine detailed in 2014, the forced-birth movement, as I term it, got its primary motivation from a ruling three years before Roe v. Wade. A 1970 D.C. District Court decision denied tax-exempt status to “segregation academies” formed to escape the consequences of the landmark 1954 Brown v. Board of Education precedent. These academies were connected to churches, and soon the IRS wanted to know whether their institutions too discriminated upon the basis of race. Heritage Foundation founder Paul Weyrich and evangelist Jerry Falwell Sr., over the course of the 1970s, seized upon the opportunity to mobilize a powerful voting bloc out of the disgruntled religious conservatives thwarted in their efforts to discriminate. But even back then, it was impolitic to promote themselves as “the racist caucus,” so they went hunting for an issue. Abortion was it — a political bogeyman ginned up out of a mix of opportunism, misogyny, and a rising religious unease with a spike in abortions after legalization. No scientific expertise in women’s physiology was required. White supremacy had all it needed, its natural symbiote: patriarchy.

The Republican movement behind forced-birth bills is truly ignorance allied with power, as James Baldwin once warned us about. The rhetoric may be more vociferous and reckless now than it was when the religious right was first revving up, but it is no less cynical. Even if it escapes the lips or is written or signed into law by women like Governor Kay Ivey of Alabama, the primary goal of that revanchist talk has always been to take America back to a time when the word of white men went all but unquestioned.

This is a particularly intoxicating prospect for men like Trump, who have grown up with this palatial reality all of their lives. What he sold in all those books and buildings and casinos and steaks was not just wealth, but his brand of white manhood. It is one reason why, despite the fact that his brash trade wars with China and Canada have made life harder for farmers and other American low-wage workers, some of them insist that they won’t leave his side.

Not wealthy enough to benefit the most from GOP tax cuts? Your local hospital going under? Your kids stuck in endless wars? It’s OK: hang with the GOP for the potential benefits of increased race-based stratification. Even if Trump’s policies are making your farm go under or depriving you of the steel you need, the benefits of whiteness await you. Because if something bad happens to you, it’s someone else’s fault. And that someone else is probably black. Or perhaps an immigrant from Mexico.

This is the investment that the Republicans have made in the intoxication of whiteness. It applies to these abhorrent attempts to end abortion as well. Legislation like these bills in Alabama, Georgia, Ohio, and Missouri isn’t merely about trying to get the Supreme Court’s conservatives to overturn Roe. These states, and the (mostly) men behind the bills, are making a point about where women stand in relation to men, and moreover, where white men stand in relation to everyone else. This isn’t about who voted for what, or who signed what bill. It is about what message is sent, and who benefits.

When women are told that their bodies belong to the state at a time when access to health care remains drastically unequal by race and class, it means that rich white men win when abortion restrictions become law. They will all be challenged in court, wasting a lot of taxpayer money that could have been better used improving those health care systems or even educating the children that Republicans claim to care so much about. Then it will come time for those five Justices to decide the future for anyone who will ever possibly carry a fetus to term, or choose not to do so.

It is a mistake to get lost in religious debate around this. Remember, always, that Jesus was the hustle used to get us here. The fight to keep women from getting abortions is really about reinforcing a belief that white men should maintain dominion over this country and the people in it. The only God that matters most to these guys is themselves.

Jamil Smith is a Senior Writer at Rolling Stone, where he covers national affairs and culture. Throughout his career as a journalist and Emmy Award-winning television producer, he has explored the intersection of politics and identity. Follow him on Twitter @JamilSmith.

Originally published at www.rollingstone.com on May 17, 2019.

[huntertales]

Part Three: Two For The Kill Of One. (Citizen Fang S08E09)

Episode Summary: Sam asks a hunter named Martin Creaser to keep an eye on Benny without telling Dean. However, when Martin tells Sam there was a vampire kill and he thinks Benny responsible, Dean defends his friend. When things get messy, the reader is forced in the middle and has to make a very hard decision about who’s judgement she can trust before someone else can get hurt. Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader Word Count: 2,951.

Previous Part | Supernatural Rewrite Masterlist

It was around nightfall when you and Dean arrived at the location where Benny told you to meet him at where you would find Desmond. The last nest of vampires the three of you took down were located on their own private island deserted away from the rest of the town and only accessible by boat. Here Desmond was hiding out in a shipyard that was all abandoned and a little too eerie looking for your personal liking. Much as the place gave you the creeps when you examined it from the passenger window, you had a feeling this was going to be an easy kill. It was three against one vampire. But you could never be so sure.

You couldn’t help but feel a bit...off from what you were about to do. Sam wasn’t here to help like you were used to. He wasn’t around like the nest you took down with Benny and Dean. Sam was waiting for you back at the docks when he started to grow suspicious. But you had a feeling he wasn’t even in the state anymore. You sent him spiraling down in a panicked frenzy from what you did. When your anger towards him began to finally subside, you began to think logically of what you had done. And what a horrible mistake you made. Much as you wanted to call him and apologize, there was still another part of you that wanted him out of the picture long enough to finish this and get the hell out of here.

Dean pulled up to a spot that was a decent amount away from the shipyard and hidden in the forest of trees that would make it near impossible for Desmond to see you coming and to give you enough time to gather a few supplies before going in. Benny was waiting for the both of you with a machete in his hand, eager to finish this business once and for all. You got out of the Impala with Dean, your own machete in your grip as you followed behind him to the trunk. You took a moment to observe the scenery a little better as Dean opened up the trunk. “This the place, huh?” Dean asked his fellow vampire friend. You headed over to grab a few syringes of dead man’s blood when he offered you some as back up. You put them in your jacket pocket for easy reach. “You want me and Y/N to hang back while you guys do some trust falls and binge-drinking?” You couldn’t help yourself but snicker quietly to yourself from Dean’s remark. Benny found a chuckle at the man’s sarcastic sense of humor as a smile seemed to have crept across his face. “Man, if I didn't know you better, I'd say you have an extremely low opinion of us vamps.” “Pssh.” Dean said. “Call it healthy skepticism.”

You rolled your eyes from the banter between both of the men and pulled out your machete. You looked over at the docks just across the way and took one more look around the premise before making your way forward. The three of you headed inside the cabin quiet as possible to have at least a bit of element of surprise on your fanged friend that was lurking in the darkness. You followed behind the two men as you held your machete in one hand and a flashlight in the other to help guide you through the place without stumbling. Dean nodded his head to the left where he would go, Benny veered off into the opposite direction. You decided to keep going straight forward to see where it might take you.

You continued on your way through the place without making too much sound. As you made it almost across the room, you suddenly felt that feeling you had grown to listen to as a hunter. It was the feeling like someone was behind you. You tightened your grip around the machete and quickly turned quick on your heels. You pointed your flashlight directly forward to whomever that was trying to get the jump on you. But there was nobody there. You narrowed your eyes slightly as you began making your way forward to where you had come in. There was enough junk around this place for someone to try and hide. However you weren't that stupid to let Desmond think he could go up against you without having a fair fight. He might be quiet, but you were fast.

You had a feeling he was right behind you, and before he could do anything stupid, you quickly turned around and swung the machete in the air to attack him like you wanted. But it seemed that you weren't fast as you thought you were. You felt him grab ahold of your wrist holding the machete, stopping you midway from slicing his head off. And before you could attack him with your other, he grabbed the hand hold the flashlight. Before you realized what was happening, you felt yourself being thrown across the room like a rag doll.

Your mind instantly feared for the safety of the fetus inside of you that you knew he heard from the heartbeat beating in rhythm with yours. But your worries for the possible damage and even worse case scenario was momentarily forgotten when you felt your body hit the ground and pain fell over your entire body. You roughly tumbled to the ground as your fall was broken by a wooden crate that crumbled underneath your weight. You winced in discomfort as you rolled over on your back, one hand rested against your stomach as the other tried to reach for the syringe of dead man’s blood that you had in your pocket. But before you could, Desmond was on top of you, grabbing a hold of your jacket and momentarily stopping you.

“Benny never told me he was bringing a couple of friends.” Desmond said. You rolled your eyes in annoyance as you tried your hardest to somehow find a way to get out of this when you noticed his teeth were now replaced with a mouthful of fangs. “Especially not one that's two for the price of one.”

“You’re not gonna talk a lot, are you?” You sarcastically asked the vampire, trying to distract him as you reached for the syringe again. “I’ve been dealing with bickering brothers all day. Not to mention a lunatic of a hunter. And you're kind of making it worse by sitting on my stomach that’s kind of trying to grow a baby. Now, get off me!”

You managed to reach for the syringe when you yelled in his face of a command that you knew he wasn’t going to listen to. You tried your hardest to jab the needle into any sort of skin that you saw, but Desmond wasn’t stupid as you hoped he’d be. You suddenly felt him grab a hold of your hand that was holding the syringe and showed you that he was more powerful than you. You winced in pain when he started to squeeze your hand until it felt like it was going to break, but his intention was to break the syringe, making you feel the glass break and the blood become useless. You let out an involuntary noise of pain from what was happening.

Ever since you started hunting you were expecting your life was going to end from a hunt that went wrong. Yet, when you learned you were carrying, part of you knew that you should have taken it easier. Putting yourself in life threatening danger had its consequences. And in the moment you were lying down on the ground with a bloodthirsty vampire, you realized that there was a slim chance things weren’t going to work out in your favor. And you suddenly started to remember the warning that Sam had given you and his concern about taking this hunt with Benny.

You knew you couldn’t fool someone like Sam with your condition. He was too smart for his own good at times. And he was right about putting yourself in danger like this. Why didn't you listen to him? You weren't the only one that was about to become drained by Desmond. And you sure as hell weren't going to be the only one that died if Benny or Dean didn't realize what was going on. You felt a rush of panic rush over you when you realized what was happening and your lack of ability to be able to stop him.

Desmond sliced a spot on your neck with his fingernail, not deep enough to cause too much harm, but just enough to let some blood rise to the surface for him to get a taste. You tried your hardest to work through the pain as you thought about screaming for help. But it was hard to even breathe from the weight on top of you. Desmond licked his finger to taste your blood. And it seemed that he liked you. You pressed your eyes shut as you opened your mouth to let out a scream for him to stop when you felt him rush forward to sink his fangs into your neck. But all that came out was a breath when you felt Desmond lean backwards.

You opened your eyes to see that your prayers had been answered. Benny stood over you with his machete in one hand and Desmond still straddling you, but his head cut clean off from what the other vampire had done. You managed to get out of the way when you saw Desmond's head roll right off his shoulders and to the ground. You let out a sigh of relief as you laid on the ground for a moment longer when Desmond was pushed off of you. You lightly slammed your fist against the ground from what happened, knowing you should have been smarter.

“It took you long enough.” You grunted out from the pain that you were hoping that would start to subside so you could get up back to your feet.

"You've lost your step, my friend. Where's the hunter I was introduced to?" Benny sarcastically asked. You scoffed and lifted your hand up for him to take so he could pull you up to your feet. He did so without breaking a sweat. You moved around your shoulders and subconsciously ran a hand over your stomach, wondering if the baby was all right. "You’re not gonna be able to do this for much longer, I’m afraid.”

“Please. I could be six months pregnant and still kick your ass.” You mumbled, trying your hardest not to talk too much from the pain in your neck. All though the cut wasn't too deep, it still hurt when you moved and tried to speak. You brought up a hand to ever so lightly touch the wound, but even doing that made you wince. You noticed that there was more blood than you thought, the sticky substance and its faint iron rich smell lingered in your senses. But if you could smell it, your eyes slowly wandered over to Benny. You felt your stomach drop in nervousness when you saw his gaze on the bloody wound. “You okay?”

Benny broke his concentration on the wound when he heard your voice and the sound of Dean's approaching footsteps to see what was going on. You moved your gaze away from the vampire and to the hunter when he noticed you were bleeding from your neck and a decapitated Desmond laid at your feet. Dean pieced together what happened without asking as he approached you. You smiled faintly at him and mumbled that you were fine. However your attention lingered back to Benny when he didn't respond to your own question out of concern. Benny didn't say anything. He did what he thought was best, he walked away to distant himself from the situation before he could do something stupid.

You got a clean rag from the Impala to try and clean up the cut best that you can. You kept your distance from Benny as Dean decided to have a private talk with the man.The both of them knew that the problem might have been solved, but the ending wasn't what Benny hoped for.  

“My life here is over, isn’t it?” Benny asked the dreadful question.

“Afraid so.” Dean said. He hated it himself that the vampire couldn’t have the quiet life that he so desired. He worked hard for it by keeping his bloodlust under control and his nose clean. But it was his past and old friends that ruined it for him. “Once word gets out, the machete swingers that’ll come for you...you can’t take them all. It’s impossible. And even if you could…”

“We’d have a problem.” Benny finished the hunter’s thought, knowing exactly where he was going with the warning. Too many bodies would lead to more trouble that would never end.

Dean felt for the guy. He knew what it was like to want to settle down his roots and find some normalcy in a world full of darkness and monsters. He tried it a few years ago, but it blew up in his face in a way that he was trying to prevent Benny from facing. "Guys like us, we don't get a home. We don't get family."

"You got Sam." Benny reminded the hunter. All though you were a good distance away from them, Benny could hear the beating heart of the hunter's unborn child he was oblivious to. "You have Y/N, too. That don’t seem so bad.”

"Yeah. But it ain't all rainbows and sunshine with them." Dean mumbled, admitting a bit of truth that reflected the years of struggle all of you had faced. And not to mention the fight that happened just earlier today. "Benny, you got to go deep underground, where nobody knows who you are."

Benny nodded his head slowly in agreement. “Yeah. I got one last thing I got to do.”

+ + +

Saying goodbye to the people that you had formed bond with, even if was for a short while, were painful. But not getting to was the worst of all. Benny wanted to see his great-granddaughter, Elizabeth, one last time. He watched her from the screen door of the restaurant as she worked the busy night shift. Her smiling face and cheery demeanor bubbled through as she talked to customers and waited tables. The woman he had grown a close bond with as Roy would soon be gone for good. For the safety of his life, as hers as well if any hunter found out the family resemblance. You met some nasty people in your time, they’d do anything to get the kill. And Benny understood the consequences.

“Time to go, buddy.” Dean spoke up, breaking the vampire’s concentration after a minute or so. You stood next to Benny with a solemn look on your face at how things had to be. All though you had only met the southern vampire once, there was something about him that you had grown to like. There was something about him that you understood why Dean had grown to trust in purgatory. Benny was loyal, but he was also caring. He treated the ones he trusted like a close friend, and would do anything to make sure they were safe.

“Thanks for not giving up on me, brother.” Benny whispered to the hunter. Both of them shook hands as they exchanged a small smile from the departure that he was about to make. You gave the vampire a warm smile of your own when he looked in your direction to say a farewell. "And it was a pleasure to meet you, Y/N. You make sure this one stays out of trouble."

“I’ll try my hardest.” You promised the vampire, your smile slowly growing into a smirk as you looked over at Dean for a moment before turning your attention back to him. “Keep your nose clean, Benny. And don’t do anything stupid.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Benny said. You reached out a hand for him to shake as your final goodbye. You noticed that his grip was strong and firm. However before he let go, he kept your hand in his grip for a moment. You stood with your back to Dean, allowing your expression to falter slightly in curiosity from what he was doing. His tone lowered as he made sure to look at you straight. The tone of his voice was serious from what he was about to say, and while you knew what he was referring to, Dean was slightly confused. "You take care of yourself, darling. You hear me?"

You nodded your head slowly as you gave him one last smile. You dropped your hand to your side and watched as Benny finally headed over to his beat up truck that took him all over the place since coming back from purgatory. It had taken him home, but due to circumstances, he was forced to flee. This hunt put a few things in perspective for you. You felt bad for how things had to work out...for everyone. You wished that Benny could stay, you wished that you never sent that text to Sam. You wished for so many things to be different. But the reality of things for people like you were bitter.Things seemed good for a while, but then reality came and kicked you straight in the teeth. The ball was up in the air for you, now you were waiting for it to drop.

[Next Part]

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