#when does a fetus have a heartbeat

[op1umeyes]

Hi! Firstly, I wanted to say that I adore your imagines! Secondly , I was hoping you’d agree to write an imagine based on s3 e7. Specifically the end of it when he’s sitting on his couch rubbing his fingers the baby touched. Maybe that makes him realize he wants a baby of his own with you? Thanks in advance!!!🩵

what i want ✩ gregory house

🫀- synopsis. Greg knows what he wants, but he needs to know that you want the same thing.

🫀 - warnings. I got a little carried away… SLIGHT impregnation kink. OOC House but i dont care. i hope you enjoyed this, anon!! 🤍

Greg’s mind had been bizarrely silent.

Instead of the regular influx of thoughts that flooded his brain, Greg just heard his heartbeat and his breathing. Well, the T.V. too, but the point is that something was off.

The face of House’s watch read fifteen minutes before eleven o’clock at night, and Greg hadn’t thought if a single thing since the surgery.

The case was an unusual one- as always- consisting of a pregnant photographer who had a stroke. After fainting, House and the team had deducted that the baby (House consistently reffered to it as ‘the fetus’) was killing the mother. Eventually, her organs started to shut down so a surgery was needed to fix the baby to fix Emma.

During the surgery, the unborn child had reached out and clasped it’s tiny hand around Greg’s pointer finger. The baby’s arm wasn’t even the length of Greg’s finger, House noticed. Truly, Greg hadn’t realized how long he had been staring at the baby’s fingers until Cuddy had called his name twice.

Now House thought of that moment in the operating room. He pressed his thumb down lightly to match the amount of pressure Greg felt when the baby held onto him.

Kids were a nuisance. A waste of money, the reason why so many people had heart attacks, and disrespectful. But… they were also cute sometimes and, apparently, wanted nothing more than to make their mommy and daddy proud of them. Well, that’s what Wilson had said when Greg had asked why people wanted kids so badly.

Greg didn’t know if you wanted kids.

You were great with them at any age- infant, toddler, and even those devilish pre-teens. In fact, you seemed to glow whenever someone trusted you to hold their baby. You made sure to look up and find Greg: watching you like he always does. He can’t help but feel a wry smile pull at his lips when he pictures you, your own finger being clutched by your own baby.

Greg was torn; he didn’t know what he wanted.

“I think I’m going to blow up,” you sang as you closed the door behind you. Greg stays still, thumb still pressing on his pointer finger.

You toe off your shoes and start to unbuckle your jeans as you head for your shared room. Greg doesn’t look up when you eventually traipse back out wearing Greg’s sweatpants and and old shirt Greg didn’t know he had. You navigate yourself under his arms and carefully over his leg to lay carefully on him. Greg feels the slow puff of your breath on his neck as you exhale. “Did you eat already, love?”

Greg lets out his own sigh and he let’s his hands rest on your back. “No. Expired lasagna didn’t really sound too appealing to my refined taste,” he replies.

“What’s wrong?” You ask looking up at him.

Greg blinks at you. As he slowly meets your eyes, he starts to feel you hand gently raking his hair back and running your thumb over his prickly facial hair. Just like you always do.

And then it comes to him.

“Do you… want kids?”

Your eyebrows furrow. “I… don’t think so. I don’t- well, you don’t want kids, do you?”

“That’s not what I asked,” Greg chided, squeezing your ass. “Do you want kids?”

It takes you a ling moment to answer. So long, in fact, that Greg thinks you may have fallen asleep with your eyes open. “Probably not. I don’t think you want kids so I haven’t really thought about it. Why?”

Greg keeps going. “Would you want kids? With me?”

You lay your head back down on his chest. “Yeah. If you wanted them too.”

House doesn’t really know how to proceed with the conversation, so he lets you play with his fingers as you watch the baseball game Greg put on. “I want one.”

Your movements stop. Yet again, you peer up at Greg. This time with unhealthily furrowed eyebrows. One of your hands comes up to check your boyfriend’s temperature. “Are you okay? Do I need to call Wilson?”

Greg looks pained as his hands slide up your body to rest at your face. His thumbs rest on your cheekbones. “I want a baby with you, y/n,” he tells you, eyes flickering from your eyes to your lips. “I want- I want your womb to swell with our kid. I want a little extension of you to put up with when you’re working late. I want you to marry me and I want you to be the mother of my child.”

Your mouth dropped open. “That’s- wow.”

“Wow,” Greg repeats with an unsure smile.

“I’m not going to lie,” you say, cracking a smile. “I’m pretty turned on right now. I’m just really surprised that you have baby fever.”

Greg groans. “Tell me what you want, woman! I just rather uncharacteristically spilled my guts and you say ‘wow’!”

You snicker and support Greg’s neck with your hand as you lean up to kiss him. As expected, he wraps his arms tightly around your waist and reciprocates your passion tenfold.

“We could practice the baby-making for the honeymoon,” you whisper after pulling away from his lips.

Greg’s eyes flutter closed and you chuckle. “I would say ‘race you to the bedroom’, but I think you’re going to beat me anyway,” he rasps. You exhale a laugh through your nose as you start to press kisses from his lips hown to his neck. “Let’s go to the bedroom, yeah?” Greg asks, humping you pathetically as you kiss him.

“Fuck yeah,” you respond lowly, a dangerous smile in your face.

[notaplaceofhonour]

my annoyance with people exaggerating & misrepresenting the extreme fringe of Jewish antizionism as being in any way representative of the Jewish community aside, one of the most common talking points that illustrates how little antizionists actually consider the implications of their positions outside the symbolic is the “and there have always been antizionist Jews since the beginning! look at Edwin Montagu; he opposed the Balfour Declaration! look at this 19th Century Bundist! etc.” talking point.

if you think about it for even 2 seconds, Zionism (and thus opposition to it) is in an inherently different place before 1948 and after, and thus it does not necessarily follow that a 19th or early 20th Century anti-Zionist’s position lends any support to the position of a 21st Century anti-Zionist.

1897-1947, the goal of Zionism was creating a hypothetical state. then Israel was created. from 1948 on, Zionism became about the continued existence of a country full of millions of people.

regardless of whether you agree that Zionists were justified in creating Israel, saying “I don’t think this state should exist” is an entirely different statement depending on which side of that state’s establishment you exist on. one is saying “I don’t think we should create x”; the other is saying “I think we should destroy x”. and when “x” is an entire country, with millions of people in it, with a distinct national and cultural identity, that is not an inconsequential difference. because it is one thing to say in 1897 or 1917, “I’m not in favor of creating a hypothetical state” and a fundamentally different one to say in 2024, “I want to destroy the existing home, national identity, and culture of 9 million people”

in literally any other situation, on any other issue, we recognize this difference between something that could be and something that is. take abortion: on the pro-choice side, this distinction is fundamental to the argument that a fetus is not a baby or a person; hypothetically, it could grow to be, but you’re not a murderer if you abort the fetus before that happens—because something that could be is fundamentally different than something that is. (and even the anti-abortion side makes this distinction, but drawing the line earlier, anywhere from the first brain wave/heartbeat to conception—very few will say “not impregnating someone is literally the same as abortion, which is the same as murder” because on some level even they understand something that could be is fundamentally different than something that is)

post-1948 antizionism is to pre-1948 antizionism what infanticide is to abortion. in the same way that “we should kill our newborn baby” does not follow from “we should use contraceptives to avoid having kids”, “it’s fine to say we should destroy a whole ass country” just does not follow from “so and so said in the 1910s that they didn’t want to make a hypothetical state”.

[accio-victuuri]

Wang Yibo’s May 2025 issue cover story 📝🪴

The stars in the night sky and the plants in the garden flourish and flicker, or wither and die, just like the cycle of life. A young man stands at the junction of day and night. In the space-time dimension he created, everything is given new meaning. The grand and the small, the reality and the imagination, the conventions and the meaning... collide and reconstruct in his inner sea. Just like the stars and the plants, he feels the deep blue wind and feels alive.

disclaimer: this a short story and not an interview.

At this moment, the protagonist created by the writer Ban Yu and Wang Yibo under the lens of VOGUE quietly reunited in a chapter of imagination.

THE PROMISED LAND

Like all people who have thrown all the good times in their lives on the surface of the sea, I learned the ability to arbitrarily divide the day and night early on. I lay on my back, toothpick on my mouth, slightly raising my head. If the storm bred by the ocean current and the subtropical high pressure has not yet been born, and the deck still retains its horizon attribute, I can order the sun to rise from any end of it, or translate it down, so that I can hide safely in the shadow and get a moment of longer sleep; like all people who waste all the good weather in their lives on love events that will sooner or later disappoint people.

I have never encountered any clear days on the sea. Gray fog floats, waves are fierce, and our ship is like being chased by a team of rats, always getting narrower and narrower, with strong winds and reefs everywhere. The Germans, wrapped in the hurricane, stood like solidified black shadows, circling around, chanting low spells, much like some hypnotic rituals I encountered in South America.

They taught everyone devoutly and lovingly: sleep is almost equivalent to death, but being awake does not mean being alive. For a moment, facing this scene, I thought of the wolves that lingered in the wilderness, patrolling all night without forming a team. A blue jack who lost everything in the tavern encountered these red-eyed beasts on his way home.

When the strong wind flattened everything, the two sides met each other in sincerity. How should we deal with it? Why did he have to cross the wilderness? Often before we could come up with an answer, the sound of a sinking net would reverberate from the inside of the ship, as if something had entered our internal organs, making us not know whether to scream or vomit first. In short, it only takes one lightning-like collision, our boat shakes a few times, as if swallowing up a gust of hot sea breeze, and then it is like an old man with a violent illness, rushing to the shore to rest, so that he can listen to his heartbeat quietly and make sure that his limited life will continue. The generally damaged fetus longs to see the shore, just like a strong man longs for his regrets.

During those days when I was stranded, I lived a dark life. I went to many places and made many friends. Of course, I also had enemies. Sometimes the difference between the two was not so obvious, depending on the situation.

Once, in a tavern on the island, a long-haired Indian told me the origin of the word hurricane. The pronunciation was a bit strange and ambiguous, and it was difficult to imitate. It turned out that it belonged to their language, and they were the first to return this name to this constantly flowing world.

Another wanderer singer who was born in the Caribbean region immediately objected. He said that this word clearly came from his hometown. It refers to one of the gods of creation and can also be extended to a metaphor for an invisible demon. The former was very disdainful of this. He raised half an eyebrow, patted the singer on the shoulder, and told him that the last time he talked about this allusion, one of the listeners around was Christopher Columbus, which was probably a few hundred years ago. I hope you can also become such a great conductor of ocean currents. The singer was silent for a while, drank a glass of wine, and then he sensed the irony in the words. He tapped the table with his fingers, took out the short knife he carried with him, turned around and rushed towards the Indian. His movements were so fast that the afterimage on the ground looked like a hungry leopard. I saw that the situation was not good, so I jumped up and hugged him tightly from behind.

The singer couldn't break free from me, and he shouted and cursed loudly, refusing to give up. The speed of waving the knife in the air reminded me of how sailors waved the white flag when they met a strong opponent. Although the Indian had experienced many storms, he was also shocked. The afterimage of cold sweat dripping on the ground flashed with a faint light, resembling the stripes of a leopard. Afterwards, he lowered his head, showed a cunning smile, apologized to the singer, and said, yes, you may have encountered the hurricane earlier, the words belong to you, but the last time I talked about it, the great Columbus was indeed present, there is no doubt about that.

Perhaps out of respect for this pioneer explorer, the singer's breathing gradually calmed down, and he took the embroidered short knife into his arms. In just a moment, the sun set. The Indian bought three glasses of good wine. After we toasted, we drank it all.

The singer walked to the center of the tavern, shook the bell on his wrist, and sang a sad ballad that none of us had heard before. It tells the story of a young gardener who worked hard in the flowers, waiting for dawn and sunset, and many flowers bloomed gorgeously, but his lover never appeared.

The flowers talked to him every day, but he always said nothing, neither comforted nor sad. Little gardener, little gardener, can you also listen to my dream. It's a good song, but it's a pity that I only remember this sentence now. After the song, the singer retreated to the door, bowed and greeted, and then left.

When I saw him again, it was another story many years later. But before singing, he gave me the short knife and told me that we would meet again. If you recognize me and no longer need it, please return it to me. Of course, as the price of keeping it, I will also keep something for you at that time, in this long world, in our long and humble life. Then, he went to hug the Indian tightly, like a pair of close old friends who were about to part, and it was completely unimaginable that they had drawn their knives against each other before. While the two whispered, I put the short knife between my boots.

The winter chill rushed from bottom to top towards my head. I suddenly felt that I had become a brave person, wanting to defend something, for the song, or a word, a person, for the great direction, or a basket of flowers.

The tavern closed, and the Indian took me to the garden on the island. On the way, he told me that the singer had just told him quietly that he let him go not because of an apology or an obstruction, but because he saw the yellow flower pinned on his chest. The singer recognized it at a glance and said that it was planted by his friend and there would be no other origin. The Indian was very excited. The gardener was also his close friend and might become yours, he said to me.

Let me put it this way, he said again, if there really is the ship you mentioned, and it was indeed hit by something, then, I think it could only be this night that may not exist. I was puzzled by this, and he didn't say anything more. What I didn't tell him was that this night was fleeting, and there would be no other one.

My ship and I have rested. At sunrise, I will set sail again, for the song, the great direction, or a good person who makes me sad, and also towards the next round of stranding. But at this time, I just said to him, the night has one advantage, which means we always have the same amount of time. The Indian laughed and laughed until midnight.

Then, like a magic trick, the ruins of a large ship appeared beside him, which was very inconsistent with the color of this quiet and monotonous night. I stopped and looked for a long time. How to describe such a small and rich plant paradise? It seems to be parasitic in the body: all the branches are trembling, as if writing stories in the air; all the leaves extend to different directions, sparse and dense, like frozen ancient ice, and all the flower keys fully display complex patterns under the moonlight, which reminds me of the deep whirlpool in the sea or the sky in the evening always opposes the moment when the universe keeps blinking with root red or dark blue.

Perhaps I have been at sea for too long. Before this, I had never thought that plants were such vivid beings. I could even sense their breathing, appearing and disappearing. Under the denser night, the plants were whispering, forming waves of gentle noises like waves, transmitting to the distance. When I was shocked, the Indian rang the door knocker and called the owner's name.

Now I think his name does not seem to belong to this century, and has a similar origin to words such as hurricane, comet, and continent. Not long after, an elegant figure stood up from among the plants, responded to the Indian's call with a sharp whistle, then shook his shoulders and walked towards us. I looked over and saw that many flowers made way for it, like the desert rising and the sea water pouring in, and a proud swimmer with a slender figure floating on the waves.

I think the Indian was really tired after such an incident and talking for almost an entire night. Soon, he fell asleep on the grass, and a handful of banana leaves automatically covered him like a swaddling cloth, trying to protect his sweet dreams.

Next to the honeysuckle, our gardener friend, yes, at this moment, looking at our common sleeping Indian friend, I think we are close friends, and a natural trust has enveloped our hearts - like talking to ourselves, we began to talk about the names and habits of the plants. The starry garden, he said to me. Every plant is equivalent to a star in the sky, flourishing and shining, or withering and extinguishing, all like the cycle of life. You know, I have spent too much time at sea and read a lot of books, from ancient times to the present, so this argument does not seem special to me.

After that, he continued to talk about the origins of these plants. For example, the bunch of white geraniums did not come from South Asia, but from West Africa. There was only one piece of land there that produced flowers of this color. They covered the tropical back like snow and never melted.

A friend brought them back for him from afar. The red and yellow Lantana grew on the beach by the sea and was moved here. It is poisonous and has a well-developed root system. It must be carefully cleaned to prevent invasion and expansion. As for the half-human-high thorns on the side of the column, they are named because the leaf gum has thorns. They stand upright like swords. They are the loyal guards and brave warriors here, guarding all the noise and silence. No one can easily bypass them. The more he talked, the more confused I became, because here I could not feel the time and season at all.

The plants that are usually seen always show different appearances: the flowers that overwinter bloom on the same branch with the fruits of midsummer, and the leaves that stretch towards the day are curling up at night.

It covered the back of the tropics like snow, and it never melted. A friend brought it back from afar. The red and yellow Lantana grew on the beach by the sea. It was moved here. It is poisonous and has a well-developed root system. It must be carefully cleaned to prevent invasion and expansion.

As for the half-man-high thorns on the side of the porch, they are named because of the thorns in the leaf axils. They stand upright like swords. They are the loyal guards and brave warriors here, guarding all the noise and silence. No one can easily bypass them. The more he talked, the more confused I became, because here I could not feel the time and season at all.

Those plants that are usually seen always show different appearances: the flowers that overwinter bloom on the same branch with the fruits of midsummer, and the leaves that stretch towards the day are spending the time curling up at night. After I asked my question, the gardener did not answer, but fetched a bucket of water, bent down to water, and stared at the watch.

He turned the wheel repeatedly to calibrate it, then another plant, and repeated the process. I bent down with him and thought for a long time before I realized that it was like a secret hint of magic or hypnosis. He used this method to make the plants recognize the era and time they were in. The banana leaves covering the Indians belonged to the Age of Exploration, representing a new and strange distant place.

The people sleeping on the ground seemed to be resting on the seashore. The trees with new leaves belonged to the 19th century, like solemn saints, giving great comfort to the suffering people after the wind and snow. The Scutellaria baicalensis at my feet belonged to my hometown. In the meadows and swamps, every July and August, it would bloom with crystal purple flowers, like gems or fireflies. Even at night, it would point out the direction of the water for the lost stars.

I missed everything there. It was also my only dream. As I was thinking, the gardener gestured to me, and I followed him.

When we reached the empty land, I found that during the long period of stranding, the ship had obviously outperformed the mud and sandbanks. At this time, most of the water had penetrated, making the whole ship look like it had grown out of the soil, similar to some ancient plant, huge and silent, with a strong and sturdy root system and lush branches and leaves that covered the sky.

When the few moonlights shone down from above our heads, I finally saw the gardener's clothes and appearance. He looked like someone I knew, but because I drank too much or too many years had passed, I couldn't remember it for a while.

The gardener looked at me, his expression as if he had seen through some mystery. Well, well, I thought at that time, he knew it a long time ago, and he knew that I would always carry some private seeds and leaves with me. Every time I reach land after a sad moment, I will talk to a plant about my worries for half a day, and then I will take its leaves, or sometimes its fruits, and carefully place them on my body, close to my heart.

This is the method a South Asian wandering poet told me - tell your story to those flourishing unknown things, and it will keep it for you for a long time, until some end. Now, they seem to have arrived at their promised land. The gardener, my friend and my guide at this time, has been cleaning the dirt and debris on the ground for me. Of course, the short knife on my boot also came in handy. I used it to dig down and split the warm soil.

After the work, I left it to the gardener, and he didn't thank me. The posture of putting away the knife was like putting away an object that belonged to him. In short, with his help, almost all the memories that were retrieved were distributed here in sequence.

I leaned down, whispered to the plants, and turned the wheel on the watch, with a serious and meticulous expression, as if checking every tiny vibration.

The sky became brighter, my eyes gradually moistened, and everything became almost transparent. At this time, at the bottom of the cabin, I heard some sounds of sea water, which I was very familiar with. Every time we left the shore, the waves always made such a beautiful invitation to us travelers.

Looking at the busy gardener, I thought to myself, so time passed like this, and at the same time, it also went backwards, the shuttle wheel went forward and backward, towards the four seasons, and towards the century that had just passed and had not yet come.

The gardener and the plants stayed in the same moment, forever here and there. Just like the prophecy that has not yet disappeared, a precise collision at night; just like the oath that was made, as a price, it will always keep something for us, such as those people and things that have been forgotten now.

Anyway, before I had time to say goodbye to this mysterious gardener, the long whistle sounded, getting closer and closer, the compass and the ocean were calling me. This gardener friend was still listening to other people's dreams, selflessly calibrating the seasons, memories and essence of life.

I thought, maybe I should leave quietly, without blessing or saying goodbye, there will always be a part of me that stays here, stranded, decaying, born, wandering, rotating back and forth between flowers and leaves, and our big ship has already set sail.

source

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

How would breaking dawn have differed if Bella had been dead set on having an abortion? Like yep, no thanks, do what you gotta do Carlisle, no inhuman children here. If Carlisle had then been successful, would it just be like this weird thing the family never talked about? And would Edward continue to do everything under the sun apart from turning Bella?

Well, this would be very awkward, because given the weirdness Bella's body's going through and that her uterus cannot be cut open by human instruments I imagine Carlisle has to do the C-section abortion anyway and that he has to turn her in the process or she will very much die.

(Remaining human, despite Edward's insistence, really wasn't an option the moment Bella became pregnant. Her body turned against her, her digestive system completely warped, her uterus turned to stone--she wasn't going back even if she didn't have to be cut open with vampire teeth.)

And depending how far the fetus is along/how twilight hybridization works, it very much might survive the premature c-section.

So, in the world where the fetus does not survive, it haunts the family tremendously as Rosalie takes this very personally (even when she shouldn't), Edward sees it as all his fault and having destroyed Bella's life and turned her into a vampire in a circumstance he did not want/was trying to avoid, and Bella both has to deal with Rosalie and Edward's fallout as well as the fact that this was her one shot if she ever had wanted children and the emotional baggage that comes with that (yes, Bella was dead certain before and nothing wrong with that, kudos to her, but this is a hard thing for anyone to face and one of those things that brings existential doubt).

I imagine the Cullens would start to fracture after this.

If baby survives doubly so as there's this haunting truth of "the abortion didn't take", you have Bella trying and failing to be a mother even more than before because she didn't actually want this baby at all but now it's here and "fuuuuuuuuuuuuuck", you have Rosalie still being doubly weird because even though there's now a baby, Bella did try to abort, and now Bella's pretending she wanted it the whole time when Rosalie would gladly adopt in a heartbeat. And of course Edward.

[bthump]

Wait why is it that in the famous “bthump” page the panels are put together in a way that gives the illusion that guts and griffith are facing each other when griffith’s heart goes bthump. We know guts is fighting zodd at that moment he cant be having a staring contest with griffith he has his back to him anyway. I feel like if u show that page out of context to anyone they’ll assume the two are looking at each other. Or am i going crazy? I mean i usually wouldn’t read too much into such a thing but i feel like miura actively uses paneling to convey certain messages throughout the story. He still could’ve just had a silly moment there idk

Because Guts is what's making his heart go bthump!

I have a post about the paneling specifically here, actually, but I'll get into it again because I feel like that explanation could be more detailed lol.

So basically they're positioned like that, Guts on one side of the panel, Griffith on the other, as a parallel and contrast to the final panel immediately before that page:

Griffith is on the left, fetus is on the right. Fetus is Griffith's theory, or hope. I came here to test my heart and make sure I don't have feelings, and oops looks like I just failed that test while watching Guts fight a stronger opponent, notably similar circumstances to the first time I ever saw him. Hmm gotta be that fetus, surely these feelings aren't real.

This is a conclusive counterpoint to Griffith's argument, stemming from reality rather than Griffith's thoughts. It's the final page of the chapter so it has greater weight than Griffith's fetus theory. It's composed similarly, Griffith on the left and the other possible source of feelings on the right - but Guts right there, and the fetus is only Griffith's thoughts, so Guts has more weight in that sense too.

And that final "......... bthump" is the perfect capstone, because it's essentially saying that Guts is causing that heartbeat. The final word of this chapter is Griffith's heart beating when faced with Guts.

The panel is composed like this despite not reflecting how Griffith is viewing Guts in reality, imo to hammer home the point that Guts specifically is the source of feelings. It's not the excitement of the fight, it's not Zodd, it's not even concern for Guts' life necessarily, it's just Guts, and the raw intensity Guts exhibits in the middle of a fight, the same thing that drew Griffith to him when they first met. This panel especially emphasizes their gazes - Griffith is gazing at Guts, but Guts isn't gazing at Griffith - but this could also suggest that Griffith would like Guts to be looking at him like that, with that same intensity.

It also parallels the two of them, the way they each get one half of a face. In the context of Griffith's singularity as The Absolute, and Guts' own tempation towards becoming a monster that becomes especially pronounced during fights, and the constant emphasis on power dynamics and the two of them wanting to be equals throughout the story, this arguably suggests the potential for the two of them to still be equals in ways that actually matter, despite Griffith being a god now. Guts humanizes Griffith here by making his heart beat, Griffith monsterizes Guts by enraging him.

And to be perfectly honest, I don't think it's a coincidence that Guts looks particularly good in this panel either lol. Guts here is essentially what Griffith is imagining he looks like as he faces Zodd. And it's something Miura does regularly imo. Characters become more attractive when they're the objects of certain gazes. I have a long post about Griffith from Guts' perspective here, but Guts also gets this treatment from Griffith's perspective during the rescue. There are probably heterosexual examples too, but I don't recall them offhand because that's not what I'm reading Berserk for. That second one is arguably half heterosexual anyway lol.

So yeah, basically imo the reason is: to emphasize Guts as the cause of Griffith's feelings, to parallel them, and to add some homoeroticism.

Thanks for asking!

[cecilysass]

Pause (8/11)

Read on AO3 | Tagging @today-in-fic

Chapter 8: Dusk

When Scully returns to the apartment, it is hours later. Shadows slant thick and dark through the apartment. Mulder apparently hasn’t bothered to turn on a lamp.

She finds him lying on the couch, staring straight up at the ceiling. He doesn’t react to her return, even when she drops his keys on the entry table with a discordant jangle and abruptly turns on the lights.

Taking a few slow steps towards him, she waits for him to speak, to acknowledge her.

“Where have you been?” he asks at last, a dark and listless monotone.

“To see a doctor.”

He doesn’t move.

“I have a question, Mulder,” she says.

He continues to stare upwards.

“When I died, was I—by any chance—ten weeks pregnant?”

Now his head tilts slowly, his eyes are on hers. Alert.

“Because if I was … that seems like a crucially important piece of information to withhold.”

He seems to struggle with his answer. “You were.”

Scully closes her eyes, and behind her eyelids, the world is radiant white with her rage. Hot, bright fire, the kind that takes everything away with it. She opens them again and strides to sit in the chair directly opposite him.

“I was relieved to learn it was a human fetus.” Her words are like a weapon, unflinching and sharp. “That was one of my concerns.”

He sits up on the edge of the couch, his lips drawn. He regards her for a moment, as though about to say something, but then seems to crumple. He rests his forearms on his thighs, dropping his gaze to the floor.

“I had many concerns, Mulder. I continue to have many concerns. Being pregnant for reasons you don’t understand is terrifying. Having things happen to your body you don’t remember is terrifying. And as you may recall… this isn’t the first time it’s happened to me.”

“Scully,” he says, and when he raises his head, she sees that his eyes shimmer with unshed tears. “For what it’s worth… you were happy about being pregnant. God, you were so happy.”

She is actually shaking with anger. It takes her a moment to compose herself. “Then why… then why wouldn’t you tell me about it? How could you not see that this was something I needed to know?”

He folds his hands together directly in front of his face, over the bridge of his nose, giving the impression he is hiding. He does not answer.

“What if I had done something risky? What if I had decided to drink a fifth of vodka? My god—I was lifting weights, Mulder. You saw me lifting weights.”

He removes his hands from his face, instantly distraught. “Did you—”

“No,” she interrupts sharply. “I saw an ultrasound. The heartbeat. The pregnancy is proceeding normally. Whatever that even means in this context.”

He looks dazed. They look at one another, trapped in one another’s hurt stare.

“In 1998,” she begins, trying to keep her voice steady, “I was under the impression I couldn’t have biological children. Do you know how…? Was it the ova you found? They were viable after all?”

Mulder looks down again at his folded hands, letting out a sigh. He shakes his head slowly. “You tried going through IVF with the ova. But… it didn’t work.”

“It didn’t work?”

“No.”

“Well,” she says tartly, “something worked.”

“Yeah,” Mulder says hoarsely. “The old-fashioned way. Apparently. Unexpectedly. A miracle.”

Scully lets that sink in. “Oh.”

They say nothing else. She stares at him, feeling her heart pounding in her chest.

“Mulder,” she says, strained, “now you have to see, right? Now you have to understand that this is evidence.”

He stares blankly back at her.

“I don’t claim to fully understand cloning technology. But to clone a woman to be pregnant with a genetically distinct fetus in exactly the same stage of pregnancy as the original donor… I don’t know if that is even possible. It’s extremely implausible at a minimum.”

His eyes don’t waver from hers.

“I mean, we can run tests on the fetus to make sure… but I think you have to see this as evidence that I’m actually myself. You see what I’m saying, Mulder? You have to believe me now.”

He looks baffled, shaking his head just once.

“What?” she says quickly. “What is it?”

“I just think it’s incredibly strange that you haven’t asked,” Mulder says.

“What do you mean?”

“About the baby’s father. You haven’t asked. I’d think that would be the most obvious and natural next question.”

She purses her lips. He’s right, of course, and it’s impossible to explain, but she’s afraid. She’s afraid to know. She thinks she knows. Hopes she does. There’s only one answer that really makes sense. There’s only one answer that it could really be.

But what if she’s wrong? What if the world is more upside down than she realizes?

As usual, she is afraid to believe. She hasn’t really stopped shaking. She grabs hold of her own hands and grips them tightly.

“Was I—was I seeing someone?” she asks, hushed, almost a whisper.

“Yes,” he says, his eyes still locked on hers.

“Ah,” she says. “Okay.” Another pause.

“That’s it? That’s all you have to ask?”

“How long?” Her voice is very thin. “How long had the relationship been going on?”

A single tear rolls down his cheek. “Not long enough. Not nearly long enough. Not even six months before you died. There was one long-ass build-up before that, though.”

She stares at him, feeling like she can’t get enough air in her lungs.

“Was it—was it a good relationship?”

“Oh,” Mulder says, swiping the tear away, “I don’t know. The guy was kind of an asshole. But you two were really in sync, lots of practice spending time together.” He wipes again at his moist eyes. “Some parts of it—some parts were very good.”

“Very good?“ she repeats in a tiny voice.

“Yeah,” he says, something between a laugh and a sob, “life changingly good, Scully.”

“And the baby?” Scully whispers. “What did he think about that?”

A pause. “He was happy,” Mulder says. “But he was also worried. Worried there was a catch. It turns out… this guy has a surprisingly hard time believing in miracles. He has a hard time accepting them. He was afraid. Afraid it was a trap.” He rubs his temples. “Later, he regretted that he hadn’t been more excited with you. He should have been more fucking excited. He should have told you how happy he was.”

“I … probably knew.”

“I don’t think you did,” he says. “I don’t. Really. It was such a mistake, the worst mistake a man could make.”

It’s the most broken voice she has ever heard from him. She has no comfort to offer him.

“Later, he realized how happy he’d been about it, really, deep down, in places he couldn’t admit. And how happy he would have been,” Mulder says. “When he realized it wasn’t just you he lost, but the possibility of having a family again. That realization … hit slowly.”

She can’t believe she is hearing these words come out of his mouth. It’s hard for her to hold this truth in her head, that these words about family—about family with her—are being said by Mulder, the same glib Mulder she has known for so long.

He sinks forward, folding at the waist, resting his forehead on his palms, his elbows on his thighs. “I should have told you,” he says, his voice empty. “I should have told you right away that you’d been pregnant. You’re right, your mom was right. I was just so…” He stops. “It’s another way I’ve let you down.”

She doesn’t know what to say, just staring at him helplessly from her chair. He’s right. He should have told her. Still, it’s hard to stay angry with this heartbroken Mulder.

Her impulse is to walk over and place her hand on his back to reassure him, but she doesn’t remember this consummated relationship they apparently had. So she doesn’t quite know if she should touch him. Or how she would have touched him. She wrings her hands, trying to settle herself.

“The doctor estimates the baby is due the first week of January,” she tells him in as calm a voice as she can manage.

“January 2002,” he says. She hears him swallow. “It was originally December 2000.”

His eyes rise to hers. They look at one another. A pensive expression falls over his face.

“I wonder if…” He stops, scowling, disappearing into his thoughts.

“What is it?”

“If it wasn’t your life that was being put on pause,” he says.

Something tightens in her belly unpleasantly as she realizes what he means. For the first time it hits her that there is another person involved now. Her fingers run down her abdomen almost without thinking, and Mulder’s eyes follow them. She lets her hand rest there, over this as-yet very hypothetical baby.

This baby she apparently wanted very much.

“Do you…” He gestures half-heartedly with his hand towards her. “Do you feel okay? You were feeling sick … before.”

“I have thrown up a few times,” admits Scully.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “And you didn’t know why you were throwing up… fuck, I’m sorry.”

She bites down on the edge of her lip, thinking about how different it must have been, before. She’d been getting sick, evidently. Had he been comforting her? In this new and unfamiliar capacity, as whatever it was they were to one another?

“Mulder,” she says, thinking of something. “The sweater on your bed. That’s…?”

He nods, looking away.

“Oh,” she says softly, feeling her own tears well up. “Okay. Right.”

“You want it back?” he says. “I know you don’t have many of your clothes.”

“I … I guess.”

“I’ve been trying to stop sleeping with it. I knew it was probably a healthy step. I just haven’t been able to.”

“I don’t recognize it,” she murmurs. “I must have bought it after 1998.”

“I’ll give it back,” Mulder says. “Don’t worry.”

Is that why he has a bed now—because of their relationship? She feels her cheeks warm. Even the idea that she has been… in that bed, with him, makes her feel unbearably self-conscious.

Mulder is watching her. “Are you feeling all right now?”

“Yes, it’s just so much,” she says, avoiding his eyes. “It’s so much to … absorb.”

“Yeah.” She feels his stare heavily on her for a beat. All at once, he stands up abruptly, walking over to his window, and turns around. “Listen,” he says. “This is important, because I don’t want you to feel like…” He shakes his head. “I know that the woman I was in a relationship with was a different woman.”

“What?” Scully feels anger bubble up inside her again.

“No, no,” he says hastily. “I’m sorry, that’s not what I mean.” He stops, his mouth still open, like the words just won’t come out for a moment. “What I mean is that the woman I was in a relationship with chose to be with me.” He bites his lip, his eyes trailing over her face. “You didn’t. You woke up here pregnant. Chained by a history you don’t even remember to a partner that … like you said, isn’t exactly the man he once was.”

Regret fills her stomach like acid.

“I don’t want you to feel stuck,” he said. “You should still think about San Diego.”

“Oh,” she says. “I see what you mean.”

“I imagine I’d probably want to see the baby sometimes,” he says. “And obviously I’m able to contribute financially, whatever it takes. But I wouldn’t bother you. You’re free. I know you’re just learning all of this, but I just want you to see that.”

She nods, and she looks down at her abdomen again.

“Mulder,” she says, and for the first time since waking up in 2001, she feels entirely certain about what to say to him. “I’m not going to move away.”

“Are you—”

“I’m sure.” With a confidence she doesn’t feel, she stands up and walks to him, touching his shoulder. He flinches slightly. “You’re still my partner. And you’re… apparently my child’s father. But I need you healthy and thinking clearly.” 

He looks at her bewildered, like a small child.

“I also need you to be sure I’m myself,” she adds, studying his reaction. “You’re sure, aren’t you, Mulder?”

There is an unwieldy pause. He shakes his head, dropping his gaze to his feet again for a moment, then looking back up. He smiles a twisted smile.

“I think I knew it was you from the first five minutes.”

She opens her mouth in shock.

“Don’t rule out San Diego,” he says, his voice like gravel. “I’m one fucked up guy, Scully.”

[worldviewnews]

Georgia Woman Faces Criminal Charges After Miscarriage, Raising Legal and Ethical Concerns

A 24-year-old woman in Tifton, Georgia, is facing criminal charges after suffering a miscarriage, reigniting concerns over how the state’s strict abortion laws are being enforced.

What Happened?

Selena Maria Chandler-Scott was arrested and charged with concealing the death of another person and abandonment of a dead body after a medical emergency on March 20. Emergency responders arrived at Brookfield Mews Apartments around 6 a.m. after receiving a call about an unconscious woman who was bleeding heavily. She was transported to Tift Regional Medical Center, where doctors confirmed she had suffered a miscarriage.

Police claim a witness saw Chandler-Scott place the fetal remains in a bag and dispose of it in a dumpster outside the apartment complex. Authorities later recovered the remains and sent them for autopsy.

The Autopsy Findings

The medical examiner determined that the fetus was 19 weeks old. There were no signs of trauma, and the report confirmed that the fetus had never taken a breath. The coroner classified it as a spontaneous miscarriage—something that occurs in 10–20% of known pregnancies, according to the American College of Obstetricians and Gynecologists. At 19 weeks, a fetus is roughly the size of a mango, with underdeveloped lungs that are not yet capable of supporting life.

The Legal Grey Area

Georgia’s “heartbeat law”—officially known as the Living Infants Fairness and Equality (LIFE) Act—bans most abortions after six weeks and grants personhood status to embryos and fetuses. This classification means that even women who miscarry could be subjected to legal scrutiny if authorities suspect they played a role in the pregnancy loss or improperly handled fetal remains.

Reproductive rights advocates have long warned that such laws create the risk of criminalizing pregnancy complications. While Georgia law does not explicitly require women to report or bury fetal remains after a miscarriage, the broad language of the statute has led to growing uncertainty about how these cases will be handled.

What Do Authorities Say?

When asked about the case, Tift County District Attorney Patrick Warren clarified that his office had no role in issuing the warrant. He also emphasized that Georgia law generally does not criminalize miscarriages.

“There is no applicable case law on this issue, as it is generally deemed a medical condition and prosecution is not warranted,” Warren said. “Georgia courts have held that once a baby is ‘born alive and has had an independent and separate existence from its mother,’ then any injury or death would be subject to criminal prosecution.”

His statement suggests that Chandler-Scott’s arrest may be an outlier rather than a precedent—but for many, the case raises troubling questions. How far can personhood laws extend? And are women now expected to navigate criminal liability while enduring one of the most devastating medical events of their lives?

As this case unfolds, it is sure to intensify debates over reproductive rights, legal overreach, and the future of pregnancy-related prosecutions in Georgia and beyond.

[agentbluefox]

Every single state in the US has verbiage allowing abortion (removal of a live, viable fetus) if the life of the mother is in danger or compromised. You can look up the laws - in fact, I encourage you to. You deserve to know your rights, not just what you’re being told. Knowing your rights will save lives. In addition, every doctor follows (or is expected to follow) the Hippocratic oath to do no harm. Knowingly allowing a patient to die is medical malpractice At Best and has nothing to do with abortion laws or Roe v Wade.

Removal of ectopic pregnancies and any type of removal, surgical or chemical, of a dead or miscarried fetus, are not abortions and are not classified as such. The arguments I’ve seen state that these types of pregnancies have heartbeats and so cannot be removed. A quick google search will disprove that.

This varies based on personal opinion - certainly there are those who will oppose abortion under any circumstances - but most politicians (including Trump) have stated there should be exceptions in cases of rape, incest, and even fetal anomaly. Not to mention, the overturning of Roe v Wade pushed the entire issue of abortion back to the states, so that the federal government ISN’T in charge of your abortion access or your medical decisions beyond, again, when the mother’s life is at risk. However, further pushing for singular universal government healthcare will put any and all medical decisions into the hands of the federal government. There’s an old saying that if you don’t want the other side to have just as much power and control as you have right now, you should limit that power and control.

As another poster said, the trans topic is a separate issue and once again, I encourage anyone affected to read the bills that were passed under the Trump administration and under the Biden/Harris administration. I worked in a school (albeit a small one), and was ‘loaned' to a few public schools through both administrations, in what used to be a fairly conservative part of the country. Never under any circumstances are teachers to be alone, unsupervised with a child. Nor should they be. Unfortunately, sexual assault is far too common in the school system. But unless the constitution is going to be overturned and every non-discrimination and child-protective policy thrown out the window, nobody should be legally checking children’s genitals. I’m guessing OP is relying on the “don’t say gay” bill passed in Florida as proof all that will soon be legal. I encourage you to read that bill too if you can. Once again, a whole separate topic.

I don’t say any of this to attack op, though I keep seeing posts and videos like this, all repeating what are essentially talking points. And all this does is further fear, based largely on assumption and emotion. That’s a dangerous combination for anyone, but especially for those who might be affected. Start asking questions, start reading the laws that affect your own body, your own freedoms, and those of the people you care about.

To the men who voted for Donald Trump today:

When your girlfriend gets pregnant, and you’re not ready to become a father, and you’re forced into a position that cripples you emotionally, financially and irreversibly, remember: you did this.

When your sister’s pregnancy turns out to be ectopic, and she can’t get the life-saving medical care she needs and dies a completely pointless, preventable death, remember: you did this.

When your 12-year-old daughter is raped by her soccer coach — after he’s legally allowed to strip off her pants and peep at her genitals, because the existence of trans kids terrifies you — and she steals your shotgun and kills herself in your garage, remember, first and foremost: you did this.

Hundreds of thousands of people are going to die because of the decision you made today.

You did that.

[sunshinehealthcarelimited]

How Does Ultrasound Scan in Accra Work?

An ultrasound scan is a widely used medical imaging technique that uses high-frequency sound waves to create visual images of the inside of the body. This non-invasive and safe procedure is commonly performed for various reasons, from diagnosing health conditions to monitoring pregnancy. If you're in Accra and looking to understand more about ultrasound scans, especially for pregnancy, this guide will walk you through the process, the different types of scans available, and why Sunshine Healthcare Ltd is the best choice for your ultrasound needs.

What Is an Ultrasound Scan?

An ultrasound scan uses sound waves that are too high-pitched for the human ear to hear. These sound waves are transmitted through the body via a probe, and when they bounce off tissues and organs, they create images that can be seen on a screen. This imaging method is incredibly useful in diagnosing a variety of medical conditions, including issues with organs, blood vessels, and even monitoring the development of a fetus during pregnancy.

Types of Ultrasound Scans Available in Accra

At Sunshine Healthcare Ltd, we provide different types of ultrasound scans to cater to various medical needs:

Abdominal Ultrasound Scan: Used to examine the organs in the abdomen such as the liver, kidneys, and bladder.

Pelvic Ultrasound Scan: Commonly performed to examine the bladder, ovaries, and uterus.

Obstetric Ultrasound Scan: This includes Pregnancy scan in Accra and is used to monitor the progress and development of a pregnancy.

Cardiac Ultrasound (Echocardiogram): Helps assess the health and function of the heart.

How Does an Ultrasound Scan Work in Accra?

Preparation: Depending on the type of ultrasound, you may need to follow certain instructions. For example, if you’re having an abdominal scan, you might be asked to fast for a few hours before the procedure.

During the Scan: A gel is applied to the area being scanned. This gel helps the sound waves travel through the skin. The ultrasound probe, which is a small handheld device, is then moved over the area. It emits high-frequency sound waves and captures the returning echoes.

Results: The images are instantly displayed on a screen for the technician to analyze. These images are often recorded and sent to your doctor, who will interpret the results.

Pregnancy Scan in Accra: A Vital Tool for Expecting Mothers

A pregnancy scan in Accra is essential for monitoring the health and development of the fetus throughout the pregnancy. At Sunshine Healthcare Ltd, we provide comprehensive obstetric ultrasound services to ensure that both mother and baby are well cared for.

Early Pregnancy Scan: Usually done within the first 12 weeks of pregnancy to confirm the pregnancy, check for fetal heartbeats, and estimate the due date.

Anatomy Scan: Performed around 18-22 weeks, it provides a detailed view of the baby’s organs and growth.

Growth and Wellbeing Scan: Conducted in the third trimester to ensure that the baby is growing well and check for any potential complications.

Why Choose Sunshine Healthcare Ltd for Ultrasound Scan in Accra?

State-of-the-art Equipment: We use the latest ultrasound technology to ensure high-quality, clear images for accurate diagnosis.

Experienced Staff: Our certified ultrasound technicians are highly skilled and committed to providing you with a comfortable experience.

Comprehensive Services: From pregnancy scans to general diagnostic ultrasound, we offer a wide range of ultrasound services tailored to your needs.

Convenient Location: Located in Accra, we offer easy access for patients seeking professional ultrasound services.

Personalized Care: We understand that medical scans can be stressful, and our team is dedicated to offering compassionate and supportive care every step of the way.

Conclusion

If you are in Accra and in need of an ultrasound scan or pregnancy scan, Sunshine Healthcare Ltd is your trusted partner. Whether you're seeking a routine check-up or specialized pregnancy monitoring, our professional team and advanced equipment ensure you receive the highest quality of care. Book your appointment today and experience the difference with Sunshine Healthcare Ltd!

Source:- https://www.maiyro.com/posts/rkrh04vm

[alex51324]

So I read this article a few days ago, and I have been haunted by it ever since.

This young woman, Nevaeh, had an "oops" pregnancy. As you may have already guessed, she was from a Christian background--her name, "Heaven," spelled backwards, is popular in Evangelical circles. She, "believed abortion was morally wrong," and "didn’t care whether the government banned it," since she wouldn't have chosen to have one anyway.

Instead, she decided to carry the pregnancy to term and raise the baby, with the support of her mother and her boyfriend, the baby's father. Her boyfriend, the baby's father, gave her a diamond promise ring, and she picked out a name--Lillian--and planned a baby shower.

On the day of the baby shower, she felt unwell, then developed a fever and began vomiting. Her mother took to her to the ER, where she was given a prescription for antibiotics and sent home. A few hours later, she felt even worse, and her mother took her to the other hospital in their town, which had an obstetric emergency room. They did some tests, including checking the fetal heart rate, and told her the baby was fine. The gave her IV fluids and antibiotics, recorded her increasing fever, fast pulse, and high fetal heart rate, and sent her home again. She had to be taken out to the car in a wheelchair, because her pain was so bad.

A few hours later, she started bleeding, and they went back to the hospital with the obstetric emergency department. There, a different doctor did an ultrasound and was unable to find a fetal heartbeat.

Under Texas law, a medical practitioner faces up to 99 years in prison for performing any intervention that ends a fetal heartbeat. So, at this point, the doctors were free to treat her like a seriously ill human being, and not an ambulatory vessel for a life more valuable than her own--however, they hadn't recorded the first ultrasound. To ensure they could demonstrate compliance with the law, the doctor ordered a second one.

Somehow, that ended up taking about an hour and a half, during which time Neveah's condition got worse. By the time the second ultrasound was done, and the doctor was able to order a D&C to remove the deceased fetus, she was too weak to sign the release forms--her mother had to sign for her.

Before they got her into the operating room, she was dead.

If they were going to make an exception for anybody, they would have made one for her: a pro-life, Christian girl, who responded to her unplanned pregnancy by getting excited about becoming a mom. Who was not just unwell, not just in danger, but actually dying when she was refused care.

The Texas fetal heartbeat law does have an exception when the mother's life is at immediate risk. However, the Texas Attorney General has made clear--and several Trump-appointed judges have backed him up--to Texas doctors that they will be charged with homicide if he, who has no medical credentials whatsoever, disagrees with their professional judgment that a procedure which ended a fetal heartbeat was necessary to safe the life of the mother. That's why the doctor needed that second ultrasound.

That's probably why the other two doctors sent Nevaeh home: they couldn't be accused of an intervention that ended the fetal heartbeat, if they didn't intervene.

The leopards that eat people's faces, like all predators, go for the most vulnerable members of the herd. The guy up front on the podium, getting rich off bloviating about how leopards just have to eat a person's face from time to time, he's safe--not because of any loyalty on the part of the leopards, but because others in the group are softer targets.

Like I said, I'd been haunting me.

The Shirley Exception

[comparatorclock]

Oh, also, I saw your question about heartbeats being a life sign

That depends!

It depends both before birth, and after birth

For example, a human who has been born, let's say an adult man, can be declared brain dead while still having a heartbeat. The person is dead, but their heart is (often artificially) still beating, and they still count as dead because there is no way to make their brain work again.

However, someone's heart can stop beating, but if you artificially start it again before the brain has died, you can save the person! You can also use a pacemaker to keep a heart beating even when it won't on its own, as long as the brain is alive

For fetuses, the first "heart beats" come from a clump of cells that are going to develop into a full heart later, they start contracting before the heart has fully grown. This is why some people who were born too early can have holes in their hearts where it didn't finish growing, but they were able to survive an early birth despite it because it worked just well enough to keep a small child alive. They require surgery to stay healthy and alive though

A fetus can be considered "incompatible with life" which means that it is so sick or disabled that it will either be born dead, die at birth, or die shortly after birth. They are still alive at that point, depending on definition, but they're a huge risk to the mother's health and will either 100% die or is at such huge risk of death that it is not worth it, because the family would have an extremely drawn out grieving process while the mother is in bad health or also dying. It is very sad, and no one wants to go through that, especially if it's a planned pregnancy, and these people deserve compassion and a choice

There are many sad possibilities on the road of pregnancy, regardless of whether someone chose pregnancy or not they should have the option to back out when the worst happens. To be able to do that, they need the choice to back out whenever, because they cannot wait for a court ruling

Abortion is lifesaving

ok fair on the heartbeat thing - clearly, it should be a question of a combination of multiple different lifesigns then (in this case primarily heart + brain).

As for the baby's-death-is-inevitable scenario, that does sound tragic - and indeed, that does seem like it would fall under the stillbirth/miscarriage category. However, is it morally okay for there to be the murder of the child in that situation so as to hasten the inevitable? In that scenario, someone would have blood on their hands, and guilt will occur in the psyche of everyone involved. Is preventing a scenario of double-death really morally worth killing one of those 2 early? (yes this is rapidly devolving into trolley problem territory :-/)

Lastly, maybe the court system is incredibly inefficient and that such inefficiency is an incredibly massive ill/evil affecting all of society - not to mention the typical court case bankrupts those involved via court fees. The entire judicial system needs a massive overhaul to be less costly for those involved, more efficient, and much faster. But I suppose this is a tangent to the question.

[salora-rainriver]

[cw] abortion, rabies, euthanasia, animal death.

shitty pseudo-poem or whatever. I keep getting nonsense on the fyp, and I just,

==

I find myself so frustrated with the state of the debate. Everyone's asking the wrong question: "when does life begin" "if a fetus human" the answer to that question doesn't matter.

it's moot. can't you see how pointless this argument is?

Every day, an innocent human life is ended by a doctor. and it's acceptable. you allow it. you may have even signed off on it. We have a word for those acts. it isn't murder.

Picture this:

You're standing on the side of a road. It's night. A black shape races towards you, mouth foaming, gait erratic, a rabid dog. there's a gun in your hand. what do you do? there's only one thing you can.

Do you know what rabies is? it's a virus that targets the brain. It melts your neurons into slurry. Your body prickles, you see things that aren't there. Water terrifies you, you can't drink and can't sleep. Nothing can save you now, there is no cure. You are dying,

That dog is dying, suffering at the hands of one of the most terrible diseases we know. Nothing makes sense as their body breaks down. Existence has become an endless nightmare. Viruses are not alive. No evil has caused this. There is no villain to enact judgment upon. There is nothing you can do for the dog, as it drools and snarls and lunges at you, except to pull the trigger. End its nightmare.

but, you cry, a fetus is not a rabid dog! and there are vaccines for rabies, you have time after it bites you, you don't have to shoot the dog!

… Sure. Perhaps the analogy isn't perfect. But if anything that makes it worse. Rabies is one of the most certain diseases in the world. As soon as symptoms appear, you're as good as dead, and you can recognize a rabid dog at a distance, with a flashlight in the dark. Most fatal pregnancy complications are not so certain.

You can't be sure if the dog inside her belly is rabid. You can't be sure if the rabies will spread. You can't know if it will kill her. or itself. or both.

And it's that uncertainty that terrifies.

That is worse than the suffering and pain as a process we revere, as the origin of ourselves, all goes horrifically wrong. the organs are in the wrong place. Its heartbeat is weak. it's draining your strength like a parasite.

how do you know if it will live? how do you know if you will live?

You remember how women used to die before modern medicine. You think you might start to bleed from the inside. You don't know if you can hold on, or if you need to pull the trigger.

will your child forgive you for giving up on them? will they understand? How many tests, how much monitoring, how many nights alone as your fears run rampant will you need, before you can finally know for sure?

and when you make that decision, as the doctors pull from you the clump of broken flesh and sever the umbilical chord, as the half-formed human being finally ceases to be, what does that make you?

a murderer? no.

there's a word we have for this, for when we hold the life of another in our hands, like Atropa holds the thread, for when it suffers, sick and in pain, for when its days are numbered, for when we grant it a final mercy, for when we pull the scissor blades closed.

it's not murder, but euthanasia.

but you don't like that word, you refuse to use it. because 'murder' is such a clean word, isn't it? there is a villain, there is a victim. it's a word to rally behind. a word to inspire, rage, valor, and action.

Euthanasia makes us uncomfortable. no one wants to cut the thread, but no one wants to watch a loved one suffer a slow death.

the problem with euthanasia is that so often we truly can't ever know. could that old dog have lived? hobbled along for a few more happy days? could your father recover, stand to go on a decade more? it's not fair, is it? it's not fair that mortal men have to make these choices.

but we have to. every doctor that is trained to save lives, is also trained to end them. each one holds a poisoned pill, just in case nothing more can be done.

every time a patient is terminal, they have to ask, when? how long should I wait before I give up on them? when exactly, should I cut their thread?

this decision is no less difficult for the very old, or the very young.

oh, but these lives don't feel. that should make it so much easier, there is no suffering you're saving them from, just the impatience of the mother.

It would be so easy then, because there's only one decision, to leave the decision to god. Wash your hands of responsibility. ... oh if only humans hatched from eggs.

but we don't. that failing life is tied to another. you cannot back away, and now you have double the uncertainty, will the dying fetus kill its own mother? how can you know? how can you truly know? if you sever its tie to the mother, if you sever its thread of life, can you prove this was your only choice?

because if you don't, as the courts have decreed, your thread will be the next one severed.

you murderer.

… except I lied. the court doesn't care to rule on matters of euthanasia. not right now. not for a fetus. they don't care if it will live, they care if it's alive now.

is its heart beating? has it developed a brain? is it a human or a clump of cells? is it a child or a corpse? does the body belong to itself, or to the mother? do human beings have souls, and when exactly do we gain one?

these are not the questions you ask when you send the family dog to a final, peaceful sleep. these are not the questions you ask at the deathbed of a loved one. but they are the questions you ask at an abortion clinic. they're the questions you ask when deciding to ban abortion clinics,

for some reason.

Picture this:

you hold the life of a half-made human in your hands, as it is intertwined with that of another.

the threads are withering. the bodies are strangling each other to an early end with the fleshy chord that unites them,

you cut the chord. one thread is severed. the other may have been saved. maybe. you'll never know for sure.

the protestors standing outside your doors are shouting 'murderer', but you have ended so many lives before, the lives of the sick, the old, the dying, you've killed them because they asked for it, because their families could not support them, because they were in pain and begged for mercy, because a fast death is better than a slow one. but this one matters more, this life, so fragile, so weak, never awake to experience anything, doomed before it could ever truly live, this clump of cells that we can't even agree on the humanity of, this is what paints your hands red…. … because we can't agree?

how backwards is this reasoning? what madness has befallen us as a people, what did we think was the role of a doctor,

if not to do exactly this?

[johnnyrobish]

Texas Atty. Gen Paxton Threatens Hospitals, Doctors, and Woman With Pregnancy Complications

Not long after Texas Judge Maya Guerra Gamble issued a temporary restraining order (TRO) barring the state of Texas from preventing a woman who has severe pregnancy complications from having an abortion, Texas Attorney General Ken Paxton sent out threatening letters to Texas hospitals informing them that the TRO is temporary and that Texas will go after any hospital or doctor that provides pregnant Katie Cox with the necessary abortion. He then petitioned the conservative Texas Supreme Court, who then (as expected) overruled the lower court’s decision, thereby placing the woman’s abortion status in limbo.  The fetus Katie Cox is carrying suffers from Edwards Syndrome, a fetal anomaly that, 50% of the time, results in the fetus dying before or during birth, with 95 percent of those surviving past that dying painful deaths within the next two weeks.  Doctors have advised Cox the pregnancy is non-viable, and proceeding with it carries significant risks to her own future health.

So, it appears both a doctor and a judge approve of her urgent need to get an abortion, but the Texas Taliban does not.  Gee, what fun it must be to live in a state governed by religious fanatics.  All I can say is - its a damn shame Time Magazine doesn’t also do a “Jerk of the Year” award.  Why Kenny Paxton would be a shoo-in.  That said, I fully understand why this whole abortion issue is so important to Republicans.  After all, if you’re a Republican, every fetus that gets aborted represents a child who will never get to own a gun.  Can’t have that.

Is it just me, or does it just seem like yesterday when MAGAs were warning everyone about the dangers of “Sharia Law?”  And yet here it is - right here in Texas - same thing - courtesy of Texas Republicans.  Christian Nationalism implementing their own special brand of “Sharia Law.”  Fact is, Republicans think the slogan, “My Body, My Choice,” should only apply to ”anti-vax" freaks, and everyone else had better just “shut the f**k up and do what we tell you.”

Now, am I the only one who thinks it rather ironic these Christofascists passed an infamous “Heartbeat Law” in Texas when not a single one of them appears to have something even close to anything resembling a human heart?  I mean, a woman’s doctor who argued her health would be at risk if she carried this fetus to fruition has been overruled by a religious zealot named Ken Paxton, who is under the mistaken impression that he is not only a lawyer, but also a doctor - and a “human being.”

If you’ve enjoyed what you’ve just read, please consider joining me at:

[independentartistbuzz]

Sebastian Reynolds Does It Again on Ambient Dance Single + Video for "Fetus"

Out today is  “Fetus,” the second single from Oxford, UK-based electronic composer Sebastian Reynolds‘ from his new album Canary, out September 29th via PinDrop. Reynolds describes “Fetus” as “a modern classical dreamscape for a disrupted mindstate.”

Where the claustrophobic leadoff single “Cascade” confronts the horrors of terrorism (while still managing to be dance-y), “Fetus” creates a hallucinatory sense of spaciousness that recalls film composers Hans Zimmer, Jóhann Jóhannsson, and experimental cellist Oliver Coates.

Reynolds explains: “Our son was born asleep on 24th July 2020, and I composed ‘Fetus’ as a tribute to Noah and is shared with love and empathy for all those affected by tragedies such as this.”

“Fetus” combines haunting piano, chiming Thai Gong Circle, a heart-stopping cello performance from Stornoway’s Jonathan Ouin, and vocal samples from Cornish singer Sarah Tresidder.

Inspired by Susumu Yokota, Luigi Nono, Olivier Messiaen, Stockhausen, and Thom Yorke, Canary‘s soundscapes visit upon traumas like the stillbirth of a child, the death of one’s parents and survival after a bomb attack, as well as themes like the fragmentation of our collective cognition, the awakening of machine intelligence and Pali Buddhist notions of consciousness.

As always, Reynolds remains intent on preserving a sense of meaning in his hybrid of programmed and organic sounds.

Born to a computer-engineer mom who worked for Research Machines, Sebastian Reynolds grew up “surrounded by dusty, strange machines that played games from cassettes.” Naturally, he was drawn to electronic production before he ever picked up a “real” instrument. But when he started kicking around in bands, his music acquired a living-breathing-sweating essence that it’s maintained over his 25-year career. This is, after all, an artist who named one of his releases Nihilism Is Pointless…

His new album Canary, however, raises the bar with soul-stirring meditation on life, death and the afterlife in the wake of his mother’s passing, followed not long thereafter by the stillbirth of his son. Influenced by what he describes as the aural “dreamworld” created by Susumu Yokota, as well as the post-traumatic shell shock that galvanized the compositions of Luigi Nono, Olivier Messiaen, and Karlheinz Stockhausen, Reynolds is especially adapt at blurring the line between mechanical and organic sound sources.

Reynolds hybridizes programmed and played sound sources not like some gleeful modern-day Frankenstein/Kurzweil who’s lost perspective on what it means to be alive, but as someone who sees electronic music as a fertile medium to express meaning.  As a teenager growing up in Oxford, England during the ’90s, Reynolds was close to ground zero when Radiohead showed that they could conserve the humanity of their music, even as they plunged head-first into a kind of digital abyss.

Similarly, though Canary peers over the edge of the precipice we all find ourselves facing today — a bomb going off, the fragmentation of our collective mindscape, the awakening of machine intelligence, a child’s life cut-off at birth, and the quotidian reality of living the rest of one’s life without their parents — Reynolds always manages to locate a heartbeat in his electro-organic mélange of sounds.

Reynolds has collaborated with Anne Müller (Erased Tapes) and Alex Stolze (Bodi Bill), Mike Bannard at The Aviary, and others. Sebastian also continues to work on commissions for Neon Dance. His projects have received airtime across the BBC and beyond.

[nursingscience]

Awesome Heart – The Busiest Man in our Body

🔹

Read this and know what your heart is doing everyday.

Following are the list of facts about our heart.

Every day, the heart creates enough energy to drive a truck 20 miles. In a lifetime, that is equivalent to driving to the moon and back.

The average adult heart beats 72 times a minute; 100,000 times a day; 3,600,000 times a year; and 2.5 billion times during a lifetime.

Though weighing only 11 ounces on average, a healthy heart pumps 2,000 gallons of blood through 60,000 miles of blood vessels each day.

The volume of blood pumped by the heart can vary over a wide range, from five to 30 liters per minute.

Because the heart has its own electrical impulse, it can continue to beat even when separated from the body, as long as it has an adequate supply of oxygen.

The fetal heart rate is approximately twice as fast as an adult’s, at about 150 beats per minute. By the time a fetus is 12 weeks old, its heart pumps an amazing 60 pints of blood a day.

The heart pumps blood to almost all of the body’s 75 trillion cells. Only the corneas receive no blood supply.

During an average lifetime, the heart will pump nearly 1.5 million gallons of blood—enough to fill 200 train tank cars.

Five percent of blood supplies the heart, 15-20% goes to the brain and central nervous system, and 22% goes to the kidneys.

The “thump-thump” of a heartbeat is the sound made by the four valves of the heart closing.

The heart does the most physical work of any muscle during a lifetime. The power output of the heart ranges from 1-5 watts. While the quadriceps can produce 100 watts for a few minutes, an output of one watt for 80 years is equal to 2.5 gigajoules.

The heart begins beating at four weeks after conception and does not stop until death.

A newborn baby has about one cup of blood in circulation. An adult human has about four to five quarts which the heart pumps to all the tissues and to and from the lungs in about one minute while beating 75 times.

The heart pumps oxygenated blood through the aorta (the largest artery) at about 1 mile (1.6 km) per hour. By the time blood reaches the capillaries, it is moving at around 43 inches (109 cm) per hour.

An anonymous contributor to the Hippocratic Collection (or Canon) believed vessel valves kept impurities out of the heart, since the intelligence of man was believed to lie in the left cavity.

Some heavy snorers may have a condition called obtrusive sleep apnea (OSA), which can negatively affect the heart.

Cocaine affects the heart’s electrical activity and causes spasm of the arteries, which can lead to a heart attack or stroke, even in healthy people.

A woman’s heart typically beats faster than a man’s. The heart of an average man beats approximately 70 times a minute, whereas the average woman has a heart rate of 78 per minute.

Blood is actually a tissue. When the body is at rest, it takes only six seconds for the blood to go from the heart to the lungs and back, only eight seconds for it to go the brain and back, and only 16 seconds for it to reach the toes and travel all the way back to the heart.

Grab a tennis ball and squeeze it tightly: that’s how hard the beating heart works to pump blood.