#trigger warning: rape

[brenda-pacelli]

I’m a survivor….

It’s hard sometimes, especially around Lent and on Fat Tuesday. I was Catholic for years until the day my uncle destroyed my faith in God. My faith in family. My faith in my church family. I was the harlot, the temptress, the witch. I deserved to be punished and that I’m going to hell because I slept with a married man, my uncle. It didn’t matter that he forced himself on me and I fought back. It didn’t matter that he was a predator who liked teenagers. Oh no, he was high up in the Church and could do no wrong. My own parents didn’t believe me or help. Everyone called me the whore.

That day I knew I couldn’t remain in my parent’s home, that I couldn’t go to a place that would side with the Devil. That day I chose to worship in a different way. I couch surfed and stayed with my Nana. She walked away from family and took care of me. Her and my one Aunt who disowned family.

I’m a survivor, I won’t let that asshole win. One day he’ll have his reckoning. One day I’ll finally see Justice. Just not today.

#trigger warning: rape #trigger warning: incest #trigger warning: abuse

[theivorybilledwoodpecker]

"All life even the unborn is sacred."

Okay, say Roe v. Wade is overturned.

Rachel is 13. She makes a mistake and sleeps with a guy. She gets pregnant. Doctors tell her that her body will suffer permanent damage if she gives birth. She can't imagine being a parent. She still has a bed time! When she petitions the government to allow her an abortion, she's told, "Suck it up, Buttercup."

She dies in childbirth. Why wasn't her life sacred?

Jeremy was raped by men who wanted to punish him for transitioning. They didn't believe he was a man and called him demeaning names as they held him down. When he finds out he's pregnant, he's told that because no one was able to be convicted for raping him, he's not able to meet the rape exception for abortion. Not only will he be forced to give birth to his rapist's baby, but the doctor can no longer prescribe him hormones lest it hurt the fetus. As his body slowly begins to look more feminine, Jeremy can't forget the sound of the men telling him that he's a woman.

Eventually, he can't take it anymore. He commits suicide. Why wasn't his life sacred?

Agatha would really love to carry a baby to term, but she doesn't have the money to raise one. She's not allowed an abortion. She has problems producing milk, so when the baby (Joey) is born, she needs formula. But there's a formula shortage, and she doesn't always have the money for it. Her senators don't believe it's their duty to ensure Joey's or Agatha's survival. Handouts, they say, encourage laziness.

Joey dies of malnutrition, and even though she did everything in her power to save the baby, Agatha is charged with neglect. Why are their lives not sacred?

Sam miscarries, but the fetus won't leave their body. They need an abortion, but regulations are strict. As the corpse of the fetus rots inside them, their case is put on a waiting list to decide whether an abortion will be allowed. They're granted an abortion...but by that time the infection has grown too severe. They die.

Why wasn't their life sacred?

Penelope was raped at a party. She was drugged and lay there helpless as her rapist forced himself on her. Everytime she closes her eyes, she sees his face. But the doctor doesn't believe her. She doesn't seem as emotional as he believes a rape victim would be, and while her body shows signs of intercourse, it's impossible to tell if it was consensual or not. So she's forced to carry the pregnancy to term.

Why isn't her life sacred?

I could go on, but here's the thing. You say, "Abortion is only acceptable when it's due to..." but in making those restrictions, you force people to jump through hoops to prove that their pregnancy meets the exceptions. If a doctor doesn't believe them, if the waiting list is too long, if they're not lucky enough to live in a state with any exceptions, these people could die or have their lives ruined.

Maybe you believe they should have been given an abortion, but you're voting for people who will make it so difficult to obtain an abortion that people meeting the exceptions will inevitably be turned away.

My what red hands you'll have if Roe v. Wade is overturned.

#Roe v. Wade #Pregnancy #Abortion #Rape #Transphobia #trans rights #LGBTQ+ rights #Children's rights #Suicide #Trigger warning: rape #Trigger warning: suicide #Trigger warning: transphobia #Prolife #Prochoice #scotus

[thesubtextis]

Skakdkakkd I wanna know about ALL of them help

Okay let's not pull a Jelly 😂 talk to me about Wilson sandwich (cause I love a good Wilson Sandwich indeed :)) and I'm also interested in Courting and Contestation!

I think Jelly has the right idea lol. My evil plan is to just slowly work my way down your WIP list one at a time  😈. 

Wilson Sandwich is still in the early stages of development-- I don't know how it's going to end, and honestly I'm a little muddled on the start, too. Very much a porn without plot that I will probably accidentally end up adding plot to, bc I can't help myself. 

But it's omegaverse, with Omega Dick and Alpha all of the Wilsons. Basically Slade decides that he wants Dick and claims him, takes him home, and is like, hey (adult or nearly adult) kids, here's your new Mommy. (Who even knows where Adeline is. She might be an alpha too, but gtfo at some point. The omegaverse elements here have muddled the timeline, bc pack bonds don't allow Slade, the dominant alpha, to abandon his family for any kind of significant duration. Maybe Grant tries to go do his Ravager thing and stealing Dick is how Slade stops it? Idk.) Obviously, lots of noncon. I'm picturing the setting to be one of those worlds where, at least in some cultures, the pack omega is expected to be sexually available to all alphas in the pack (with very specific limitations. For example, breeding rights might be exclusive to the alpha that claimed them). I don't think that is necessarily the prevailing attitude in Gotham, especially among the comparatively prudish Bats, but I'm picturing it to be more common in the south, where Slade is from. Omega aren't owned outright, but there is a lot of sexism, even without the kind of direct sexual exploitation that would be common among more conservative groups. 

In any case, Slade's fucked up family embodies much of the worst of this, because they just don't know any better. I'm picturing Grant, Joey, and Rose. None of them are actively violent with Dick, given how easy it is to overpower him by sheer force of numbers, but I'm going for that line between horny and horror where they think what they're doing is normal. Slade gets Dick pregnant as soon as possible, and then proceeds to do his version of doting/wooing, but of course this is tainted by all of the kidnapping, and noncon, and handing Dick out to his kids. Joey is sympathetic, wants Dick to be happy and recognizes that this isn't gonna make that happen, but also, when in Rome, you know? He wants Dick too. Basically he just eats Dick out all the time and convinces himself that, because he's not getting off on it, he's not as bad as the others. All of them have a breastfeeding kink, but Rose takes it to an extreme. She also leans hard into the whole Mommy element, which Slade finds darling and Dick does not like. Picture Slade holding Dick down, maybe knotted on his lap, while Rose sucks on Dick's tits and rides him. And Slade is just praising them both, pleased as punch to finally be making a happy family. Of all of them, Grant is the most cruel-- he's tried to rebel, to find his own identity outside the pack, and Daddy Dearest cut his efforts off at the knees and brought him Dick instead. He constantly pushes the boundaries of what is acceptable, even in a household like this. If things ever get better for Dick, it's because Grant takes things too far and it forces everyone else to have a wake-up call and start actually listening to what Dick is saying about his own needs and boundaries (at least a little). 

Obviously, Dick is doing his best to escape at any given point, but once he gets pregnant, things get harder. Slade has bonded him, and he feels himself slowly succumbing to the bond's influence. This isn't what he's used to, but is it really so bad? Etc etc. I don't tend to write full mindbreak scenarios, so I don't think it would end that way, but who knows? Not me!

Courting and Contestation!!!

This is my take on your classic Will-figures-it-out-early scenario. Hannibal isn't at the stage of the relationship where he's ready to go to jail for Will, but also he doesn't want to kill him, so, naturally, he decides to kidnap Will and keep him in his basement. It's a lot of Hannibal wanting Will (his body, his mind, his eternal devotion, etc etc), and Will wanting his freedom. 

Historically, I have gotten frustrated with some fics with this premise because of the way Will becomes content with his imprisonment, because it means he gets to be with Hannibal. He and Hannibal are both people who can live rich lives within only their imaginations, but neither of them would be content with that for Will (imo). Hannibal wouldn't like that Will is escaping into his mind (where Hannibal can't follow), and Will has higher expectations of Hannibal as a partner than to treat him as, functionally, a beloved pet. 

So instead, they start negotiating. Will knows he can't get away with lying to Hannibal outright, to he has to really consider what Hannibal would need to do in order for him to be willing to not just enter into a relationship with him, but to become complicit in his crimes by not turning him in, if freed. Hannibal has to consider what it would take for him to actually trust that Will won't turn him in the second he lets his guard down. 

This includes reasonable things like "let's not lie to each other anymore" and less reasonable things, like "I'll let you fuck me, but only if you hunt me down in the woods and I have a real chance of getting away." 

#i keep trying to post my answer and tumblr wont let me #rip #was gonna add an excerpt but now i feel too frustrated w technology #AH #IT FINALLY WORKED #wip ask game #sladick #hannigram #trigger warning: rape

[tvandfilmconfessions]

For the past few years, Brendan Fraser has been attending fan conventions. Maybe a star with a different level of vanity or self-regard wouldn’t talk about this fact because it could be seen as embarrassing, or humbling, but Fraser is not that star. He shows up, shakes hands, signs autographs, talks about the past. Shares table space with guys like Sean Astin, from The Lord of the Rings and The Goonies. 

Fraser started doing this, he told me, “to get over myself. Because I thought either, It’s not something I would do, or, I didn’t want to put myself in a place where I was vulnerable in front of everyone.” But then he went to a Comic Con in London. This was in 2019. Part of it, he admits, is that he was getting paid; part of it was that after a rough decade, he suddenly felt the desire to get back out there. “I wanted to see the people,” Fraser said.

Brendan Fraser says his experience being sexually assaulted “made [him] retreat” from Hollywood: “[I felt like] something had been taken away from me.”

FULL INTERVIEW

#Brendan Fraser #The Whale #The Mummy #The Mummy Returns #Trigger Warning #trigger warning: rape #tw: abuse

[lovefrombegonia]

TW // serial killer, murder, rape, slavery, mutilation

THIS IS A RANT COZ I SAW BLOODY FAN ACCOUNTS DEDICATED TO A REAL SERIAL KILLER AND NOW I WANNA UNLOAD MY ANGER SOMEWHERE.

The content is disturbing. It's just a personal rant. If you feel uncomfortable, don't read. Trust me, you're not missing out on anything good. This is just me with my enraged word vomit.

I am a rotten, indecent person who loves villainous characters and problematic tropes and toxic love stories and what not. But this...this is truly disgusting. This is a real life serial killer, people. Jeffrey Dahmer was a monstrosity. I hope he burns in hell for eternity. And if I see someone going uwu over him just coz of that Netflix show, I am blocking their asses.

This is...this just makes my blood boil. Like...he mutilated and killed teenagers and youngsters.

CAN WE NOT DO THIS?? There are PLENTY of fictional rotten ass villains we can stan and target out fandom urges into. Let's not stan and headcanon and make bloody fan content about a real life murderer and rapist who wanted to sex slaves.

#trigger warning #serial killer #rape #murder #mutilation #slavery #trigger words #trigger warning: serial killer #trigger warning: rape #trigger warning: murder #trigger warning: mutilation #dahmer #netflix #jeffrey dahmer #ranting #disturbing

[maelihi]

tw sa / rape .

for the problematic headcanons, I do have one that is quite close to me , and kinda largely affects my internal version of Kacey. I’ve thought so much about how it’s affected his life and how he acts yadda yadda. Just avoiding saying it straight out since I always think ppl will this it’s weird but 😭 kacey was assaulted in more ways than one by ein & his gang in the bathrooms during pdh … not uncommon for people to think of ein as the typa guy to do something like that it’s just more vulnerable circumstances??? Idk

!!TW!!

honestly, i can totally see that and i also have a few sa headcanons due to my own personal stuff, but this headcanon really does make quite a bit of sense to me. in my rewrite this isn’t the case, but honestly if we’re going off of eins canonical character, no he’s totally the type of guy.

also thank you for the honesty! i take every headcanon.

#aphblr #aphmau #aphblur #aphverse #trigger warning: abuse #trigger warning: violence #trigger warning: rape

[shi1498912]

Hier ist der vom ZDF Magazin Royal und von FragDeStaat.de veröffentlichte Chatverlauf der Frankfurter Polizei.

Warnung: Die Inhalte sind extrem verstörend.

Lest euch den Text am Anfang bitte durch, bevor ihr dann weiter auf den Chatverlauf klickt.

#content warning #strong content warning #cw: rape #cw: antisemitism #trigger warning: rape #tw: rape #polizei #police #rechtsextremismus

[theivorybilledwoodpecker]

We need to talk about a side to the abortion debate that I don't think has been heavily discussed because it seems like an unrelated issue. That is "Marry Your Rapist" laws.

It's no secret that most countries have either had them or some point of time or unofficially forced rape victims to marry their rapists by means such as people with uteruses not being allowed the final say in who they marry, allowing them the final say but not allowing them economic independence so they had no choice but to obey their parents, shaming them for loss of virginity, etc.

While the US never had such laws, what it did have were laws that limited women's and people they considered women's ability to live alone. This led to countless people being forced to marry their rapist because the alternatives were things like selling their bodies or living on the streets. What it has now are states where children can get married with parental consent.

Some states have minimum ages, while others don't. But what this means is that if 10 year old Susan is groomed by her 30 year old math teacher, he can marry her as long as her parents consent. What parents would ever consent to this?

Parents who like Tucker Carlson believe a pedophile who marries his victim isn't as bad as one who doesn't. Parents who place a high value on "purity." Parents who take Deuteronomy 22:28 to 29 to mean a rape victim needs to marry their rapist. Parents like Sherry Johnson's parents who let their church pressure them into forcing their daughter to marry the pastor who raped her.

Now, horrible as this is, what does this have to do with abortion? Well, a lot.

People who push marrying one's rapist and the idea that sex before marriage is shameful often are prolife. They often believe that if a person gets pregnant out of wedlock, they should marry the person. It took Sherry 6 years to get Florida to raise the legal limit go 17 in that state, and guess what George Moraitis, one of the people who opposed raising the limit said?

"There’s literally only a handful of cases that would fall under what I would say are potentially abusive.To focus on a 10-year-old or an 11-year-old or something like that when we’re talking about the hundreds and hundreds of people that could get married. I’m particularly focused on the pregnancy aspect of it. I don’t want the message to be that it’s better to not get married.”

Let me add another quote from the article: "A legislative staff analysis showed that between 2012 and 2016, 1,828 marriage licenses were issued in Florida to couples when at least one party was a minor. That includes a 13-year-old, seven 14-year-olds and 29 15-year-olds."

So, these new abortion restrictions are going to increase the number of children forced to marry their rapists.

"But we support exceptions for rape!" Prolifers might say.

Maybe so, but will the law make a person prove they were raped before getting an abortion? Somehow I think it will. Prolifers will insist on it. And what if the doctor says they don't believe the victim? Maybe they "aren't emotional enough," maybe the doctor isn't sure if the wounds are from rape or consensual sex, maybe it's a state where a child needs a parent's permission to abort a pregnancy and the parent lies that it's "the boyfriend's child." Or maybe there's a wait list for review, but it's so long that the fetus is too old to abort before the case even reaches the reviewer's desk.

No matter what your intentions, you're dooming children to bear their rapists' children and sometimes marry their rapists.

And while I don't think we'll see a law that forces adults to marry their rapists just yet, what about states that allow rapists to sue for custody? A rape victim unable to obtain am abortion is trapped. The fetus will become a child. Most people, even if they can't feel love for a child, wouldn't want to hand it over to a rapist. These states would force rape victims to give birth to their rapist's child, then force them to decide whether to hand the child over to a monster or fight for custody of a child they may be unable to love. And say that the victim is only awarded partial custody. Will the government provide people to drive the child between houses so the victim doesn't need to see their rapist? What about the child? You can't force the child not to talk about their time with the other parent. Why should the rape victim be forced to hear about their rapist? And what if the rapist, unable to see their victim due to handoffs handled through mediators, decides to slip the child a note, saying, "I just want to tell your parent how much I care about them. Would you give them this?"

The overturn of Roe v. Wade opens the door to all of this. If you think this is far-fetched, you haven't done your research.

#roe v. wade #Abortion #Trigger warning: rape #Trigger warning: forced marriage #Trigger warning: child abuse

[daddysboyys]

#trigger warning: rape #tw: noncon #tw:rape

[smashthegiantkiller]

Bruh. 

This has been well known within the wrestling world for years, and now, a major magazine has picked up the story. 

(tw: rape) 

#sports #wrestling #vince mcmahon #rita chatterton #metoo #trigger warning: rape

[enbaluka]

Louis Wu being drugged and raped by an alien prostitute is not my favourite part of ringworld.

#how do i do trigger warnings? #just #tw: rape #or like #trigger warning #trigger warning: rape #is that what I'm supposed to type out? #anyways with other tags #ringworld #larry niven #known space #science fiction #sci-fi

[mugiwara-lucy]

Ugh I’m so glad Claudia Joy defended herself the way she did.

#army wives #army wives rewatch #claudia joy holden #kim delaney #non anime #trigger warning: rape #hope that tag helps

[sirfrogsworth]

Mounjaro's Revenge: The Inevitable Adventures of Froggie, Chapter Unknown

I keep saying I can't leave the house without having some kind of adventure. And I really thought I was going to have a quick, uneventful doctor's visit with my monthly checkup this past Wednesday. I'd go in, they'd check the box Medicare requires every month, and I'd come straight home.

But adventure seeks me out. I can't seem to escape its grasp. And, yes, sometimes I like having adventures. They give me something to write about. And sometimes they are fun memories. But sometimes adventures just make me tired. And not all adventures are positive.

For the past 3 weeks I have been on the second dosage amount of Mounjaro. Unlike the Ozempic, I have had a few issues with side effects. Roughly 48 hours after my injection, I get sick to my stomach and feel pukey. It lasts for about two hours. I either vomit and lose the urge or I hold it in and it fades. I am then compelled to take a nap.

Considering the weight loss and glucose control, getting sick for an hour or two per week isn't a huge deal. There is a good chance I will get used to the medication as time goes on, but even if I don't, I am okay with this consequence.

My injection day was Tuesday, and based on past experience, I figured I'd have until Thursday morning before I got sick. The past 2 episodes happened at almost identical times, so I figured Wednesday wouldn't be a problem.

But right before my doctor's appointment I started feeling extremely... rough.

Optimistic for no good reason, I was hopeful I could get through the appointment before the urge to vomit arrived.

I get to the office and there are 3 patients ahead of me. This was not a good sign. My doctor tends to overbook and I was probably going to have a bit of a wait. I arrived in the middle of a lively conversation about where to get a good steak in St. Louis. I'm used to waiting rooms being full of quiet and bored people staring at their phones so when I opened the door it felt like the conversation smacked me in the face.

The cast of characters were as follows...

There was an older black man who had the spirit of a kindly grandpa. He seemed nice and wise and was enjoying the steak conversation. Let's call him, Old Guy.

There was an older white fellow who was anxious about the wait time due to having another appointment soon. He was on hold with the other doctor's office trying to delay his appointment time. He was only mildly interested in steak due to that distraction. I already used Old Guy, so... Anxious Guy.

And then there was the steak expert who was leading the conversation. Actually, leading is not strong enough. He was *dominating* the conversation. As I sat down and his visage entered my field of view, I was a bit taken aback.

Do you know how in Star Trek everyone has a mirror universe doppelganger who may look the same, but they usually have personality traits that are reversed?

They are often identified by arch overacting or a change in facial hair.

The steak expert was my mirror universe counterpart. He was of similar age, height, and weight. Same color hair and eyes. He even wore similar clothing.

But he had a goatee instead of a beard. *gasp*

And he wore... sandals. *double gasp*

He had clearly been in a recent transporter mishap.

I mean, I could *never* wear sandals. The world is not ready to handle my nude foot and I find very few sandals have the load-bearing capacity necessary for people my size. You are asking for foot pain if you are over 300 pounds and wearing sandals.

Mirror Froggie was very outgoing and personable, but he had trouble filtering what he said and was often obliviously rude. He clearly thought himself to be hilarious but struggled to make even kindly Old Guy chuckle.

Old Guy said, "I think Longhorn makes a decent steak for the money."

And then Mirror Me's unfiltered response... "Longhorn is shit. You shouldn't eat there. You are wasting your money on shit steak."

"I don't know, I've always enjoyed..."

"I'm telling you, friend, it is shit steak. End of story."

You could tell that made Old Guy feel bad for suggesting what he liked. But he brushed it off and asked for a better suggestion. Mirror Froggie confidently told him of a restaurant called "Sam's" that had "the best steak in town."

Old Guy proceeded to ask Siri to look up Sam's and it took a few tries. He reminded me of my dad fighting with the iPhone and repeating things over and over with increasing volume. I think Old Guy wasn't specific enough as he got the wholesale club on the first few attempts. Finally he said, "SAMMM'S STEAKHOUSSSSE" and found success. Old Guy saw the reviews and some of them were... not great.

But Mirror Froggie was like, "You can't read reviews. They're all liars." And I was questioning why people would take the time to lie about a small St. Louis steakhouse, but whatever. He then said it was because the restaurant was in disrepair and needed new plumbing, but that's why they could sell such amazing steak at reasonable prices.

Theories are less logical in the Mirror Universe. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Anxious Guy got off his phone call and cursed into the void. He missed his other appointment. He interjected with, "Is that Sam's place expensive?" And that sent Mirror Froggie into a long diatribe about the price of meat at different places and his annoyance at steak-related inflation. Soon after, Anxious Guy finally got in to see the doctor. Old Guy was keeping Mirror Froggie busy with conversation, so I just closed my eyes and rested as they discussed the price of oversized shrimp "as big as your fist". I guess they ran out of things to say about steak.

As they were talking I started to get a spidey-sense about Mirror Froggie.

He *needed* conversation.

He *needed* distraction.

His boredom abhors a vacuum.

Whenever there was a lull or silent moment, I could see him getting very antsy. And if Old Guy got called in before Mirror Froggie... I was going to have a problem.

I was feeling sicker by the moment and did not have the bandwidth to help some stranger with his inability to accept boredom.

And... Old Guy was next.

Because, of course he was.

I feel like sitting there with my eyes closed and also not having said a word the entire time was a pretty decent social cue that I was not interested in talking. But Mirror Me decided to poke that notion with a stick in order to find a way in.

He speaks barely above a whisper, "I wish I could sleep in a public waiting room. Not sure how you do that."

"Yeah, I'm not feeling well. Nothing contagious, just very tired."

"Well, if you're sick, I guess you're in the right place, am I right? *long pause* Cuz we're next to a hospital. *short pause* Right?"

Oh great, he's a joke explainer.

Mirror Froggie did not care about my desire to sit in peace while I waited. His foot was anxiously a-tappin' and he was vibrating with energy that needed someplace to go. He tried standing up and walking in circles. And I guess because my eyes were shut he decided to narrate his walking and stretching to keep me informed. That satisfied him for roughly 20 seconds. He sat back down and was clearly struggling to be alone with his own thoughts.

"Hey, friend."

I open my eyes slowly.

"Do you see that magazine next to you? Would you mind handing that to me?"

I thought, "This is good. He's seeking out an alternate source of stimulation. He can read the magazine and I can rest until my turn."

Seriously, brain... where is this optimism coming from? I've been a cynical misanthrope for like 4 years now.

He flips through a few pages. "Look at this. It's got Oprah on the cover. It's got to be good, right? They don't put Oprah on the cover unless it is good, ya know? Though she doesn't look right after losing all that weight. You know what I mean, friend?"

Well, shit.

I didn't give him a distraction, I gave him a conversation starter. Still, I kept my eyes closed in the hopes he would give up.

"Hey, friend."

Crap.

"You want to hear a joke?"

I open my eyes. I'm not getting out of this.

"Sure." as unenthusiastically as I can manage.

He proceeds to tell three jokes all strung together. All of them terrible and none of them coherent enough for me to remember. I gave him complimentary singular chuckles even though two of the punchlines didn't make sense. I think one was about accidentally eating cat food.

"Hey, friend... how'd you like my jokes?"

I jokingly replied back, "Well, you said *a* joke and that was *three* jokes. That wasn't what I agreed to."

He chuckles and I close my eyes again.

"Hey, friend."

Jesus Christ, would someone jingle their keys for this dude?

"Do you want to hear a 'locker room' joke?"

Oh fuck me.

"I... guess?"

There was no way out of this aside from unpleasant confrontation and my energy calculation of that was much higher than just suffering through a dirty joke.

Here it is, as best as I can remember...

"So there is a pirate ship. And the captain has a beautiful daughter who has come aboard. He tells her that the crew hasn't seen a woman in a long time and they aren't safe to be around, so she should keep a razor blade 'down there.' After the voyage he assembles all of his men and instructs them to pull down their pants. Every one of them has had their dick cut off... except for one. The captain goes up to the only one with their dick intact and says, 'Thank you for not deflowering my only daughter. You should be commended for your restraint. And as a reward, I will make you my first mate.'"

I literally cannot type the punchline because it was an unintelligible noise. Basically, Mirror Froggie imitated someone without a tongue trying to speak.

Yeah. That happened.

I could not hide my disdain for this joke and I was feeling too awful to muster up any kind of response. He seemed confused by the absence of laughter from his wonderful rapey body mutilation joke.

"You get it, friend? He lost his tongue because he ate her pussy."

Yes, explaining the joke always helps... friend.

In whatever the opposite of the nick of time is, moments after this stranger said "ate her pussy"... the nurse calls Mirror Froggie in for his appointment.

I would feel relieved, but the Mounjaro side effects were getting worse and the urge to lose the remaining nutritional value from last night's dinner was increasing by the moment. I was next in line, so I was hoping Mirror Froggie didn't take up too much of the doctor's time with horrible "locker room" jokes and dubious steakhouse suggestions.

Roughly 5 minutes later the nurse calls me in to get my vitals. She weighs me and I am down another 3 pounds. That reminded me of why I was suffering this tummy tantrum. My blood pressure was perfect but my pulse was quite high. I was very anxious holding in my stomach contents and I tried to explain, but she asked me to try and relax to lower my heart rate. We compromised when I got it down to 107.

The nurse keeps forgetting that I don't really have a family anymore. And I know she has a lot of patients in and out and they probably all blend together. But she always ends up asking me questions that require me to remind her my parents are dead.

"Did your mom put up the Christmas tree yet?"

I went with, "No tree this year. Too much work."

"Aw, that's too bad. I actually got mine up early this year. You gotta put up a tree for Christmas."

Thankfully her job was done at this point and she abruptly ended the conversation.

Next up, the pee guy.

He has never actually told me what his name is so that is just what I call him in my head.

Every month I have to sacrifice my urine to the gods of Medicare so they know I am taking my meds and not selling them on the mean streets of Spanish Lake. And the pee guy always comes in to collect my sample. The little cup is kept in a white paper bag for discretion. He used to just give you a clear ziplock, and that was a little embarrassing, as everyone in the waiting room could see your pee. I definitely prefer the new white paper bag system.

It could be my lunch or some cookies or a bunch of peanuts.

Who is to know?

The pee guy is a bit of a talker as well. But the nice thing about his conversational style is that you can't get in a word edgewise. If he asks you a question, he'll even answer it for you. This requires very little effort on my part.

"Hey there, Mr. Benjermin!"

(I have noticed Ben-jer-min is a common pronunciation among Black folks in the area. Not sure if that is just a St. Louis thing or not. Perhaps I have a dialectologist follower who knows.)

I wave hello.

"How's it going, Mr. Benjermin!? Good? Good. Just gotta get your sample. Still taking the same meds? (I nod yes.) Okay, just need you to sign here. New Year's is coming up. Gotta be careful not to party too hard. You'll be regretting that. Though you don't look like a drinker to me. (I nod no.) Yeah, you're a good one. You keep it clean. Okay then, Mr. Benjermin. You're all set. Here is your new sample cup for next time."

He replaces my white paper bag with a new white paper bag and leaves the room without me saying a word. And I'm just realizing he asks me if I am a drinker quite a lot. He must sense my teetotaler spirit or something because he always assumes (correctly) that I don't drink. He's just really concerned about me partying too hard.

Finally the doctor comes in.

My doctor is kind, compassionate, and competent. The almost 3 Cs. But he's got a touch of what I call "Boomer-itis." He's on the progressive side of most things but there are a few ingrained sensibilities from that generation he didn't escape. It's mostly harmless. Though he said something sexist in front of a nurse practitioner student during my last visit that made her roll her eyes behind him.

He greets me and I tell him I'm not feeling well from the Mounjaro and that I am still recovering from my trip to Florida. He tells me that a lot of people can get sick for days from these new drugs, so getting sick for an hour or two isn't so bad. I agree, though I really wish I had not gotten sick at the exact time of this appointment. I keep eyeballing the trash can in the corner just in case things go sideways in my tummy.

He asks about my trip to Florida and I predicted that—as I already had photos ready to go on my phone. I scroll through them, showing off amazing cityscapes and mountainous clouds and an orange sunset over a lake—hoping to impress him with my photography skills to no avail. And then he sees Katrina. Now, I am not blind to her attractiveness, but I do sometimes forget how people respond when they see her next to me.

"Oh, wow. She's beautiful!" he exclaims.

I almost felt flattered on her behalf. But then his Boomer-itis starts to kick in. And he repeats, "Yeah, she's *really* beautiful. Just a friend, you said?" His facial expression and tone of voice are like, "You poor thing, you have been friendzone'd." And probably a touch of, "She's out of your league, buddy." I don't know exactly how to describe it, but it is this familiar look of pity and worry. This is usually followed up with a probing question trying to figure out what our "deal" is. Why is it so odd to that generation that a man and woman can earnestly be just friends and perfectly content with that arrangement?

It would be the easiest thing in the world to just say, "She's gay" and that she isn't "out of my league" as she plays an entirely different sport. (Competitive Subaru Ownership?) But my friendship with Katrina is not some consolation prize due to her queerness. I shouldn't have to explain or justify why I'm "just friends" or why I'm not "being led on."

In a worried tone, "So, umm, how'd you two meet?"

There it is.

"She is an artist. I posted some of her work on my website and it was very popular and helped people find her work. She messaged me to say thank you and we were instant friends. 10 years later she's my best friend and very much like family."

Thankfully his pity face evaporated and he finally saw how long-lasting and meaningful this friendship was. But it is a weirdly common obstacle I have noticed whenever people see a fat guy has a conventionally attractive friend.

Friends are great. Friends have been more supportive and beneficial to me than any romantic entanglement I've ever had.

All of my friends are hot and queer and that's awesome.

Note to self: Put that on a t-shirt.

Knowing how difficult it was, he congratulated me on surviving the trip and we wrapped up our appointment quickly. All I have left to do is check in with his assistant, get my prescriptions sent in, and make my next appointment. I can see the finish line, but my tummy is rumbling and I am making contingency plans for the Great Upchuck of 2023™. I'm clocking trashcans with plastic liners. I'm trying to remember where the nearest restroom is. And then I look down at the little white paper bag containing my urine sample cup and think, "Last resort."

Trinica (the competence ninja and my favorite person in the office) is processing my meds and searching the calendar for next month's visit. Shelly is keeping quiet and working on her computer. I start pacing back and forth. I'm not sure what I think that will do, but I think desperation is taking over at this point.

Shelly sees me and asks, "How's that whole disability situation going for you?" She is acting like my best friend now after cursing at me on the phone. I have a feeling she had an unpleasant conversation with my doctor after that episode because she isn't this sweet and nice to anyone.

I give her the update, "Everything is submitted. My lawyer is happy with all of the records we were able to find. It's just a waiting game now. It could be a couple of months but if I have to see a judge it could be over a year."

She commiserates with me about how slow the process can be.

Then, out of fucking nowhere, Mirror Froggie reappears in the little sliding reception window like a jumpscare in a horror movie.

Are you fucking kidding me with this guy?

"Hey Trinica, do you have a business card for the doctor? I want to recommend him to Doug."

Who the fuck is Doug? Are we supposed to know Doug? Is Doug the tongueless pussy-eating pirate who needs medical attention?

Trinica looks in her desk and is unable to find a spare card. So she stops processing my stuff and starts hunting around the office. She has a bad leg so she is slowly limping while searching every desk. I have never wanted to strangle anyone before, but my doppeldouche was really pushing his luck.

At this point I am just staring at the little trash can in the blood-draw room. I can feel the scrambled eggs reversing course through my digestive system.

Trinica finds a fucking card for fucking Doug and fucking Mirror Froggie finally fucks off to bother people that are not me.

Trinica gets me all sorted, I wish everyone a Merry Christmas, and make to the car.

I sit in the driver's seat, and with that unearned optimism, say to myself, "I made it."

For all of you who are squeamish about bodily fluids, you can just pretend this is where the story ends. Everything was fine. I made it home and was happy and comfortable and nothing gross happened. The nausea faded away and I lived happily ever after.

The End.

Thank you for reading this and have a lovely day.

Just scroll on by to the next post!

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Okay, so you all probably thought I was foreshadowing a monumental barf.

But foreshadowing is typically subtle. You don't want to give away the ending. Of course this was going to end in barf. The barfing was inevitable. The barf was not what I was *actually* foreshadowing at all.

Did anyone catch what it was?

You know that discrete white paper bag?

The one that could be for peanuts or maybe a sammich and definitely not my urine sample cup?

The last resort?

Look, it's all I had.

I was not going to make it home. I was not going to make it back into the bathroom. No trash bins on the horizon. Nothing in my car.

At first it was just an itty bitty baby barf. A perfect amount to be contained in a flimsy paper bag. I felt a relief wash over me.

"That's all?" still being stupidly optimistic.

But then I made that noise.

That... pre-retch noise.

That one where your head kinda juts forward and your lips make a giant O shape and you make a very specific grunting sound. That sound where if another person hears it, they involuntarily make the same specific grunting sound.

This was when I had one of those movie moments when a character knows they are about to die and they can't do anything about it. And I made this exact face as I waited for the impending doom of a vomitous explosion.

The Great Upchuck of 2023™ commenced.

And it was... intense.

Everything inside my stomach transferred rapidly, furiously, projectile-ly into the bag of foreshadowing.

I mean, I'm pretty much convinced my stomach is a TARDIS because I do not remember ingesting that much food. This sheer volume of barf had to be coming from another dimensional plane.

I could see it staining the sides of the bag as it was clearly not meant for this. When I finished it was barely intact—soggy, if you will. When I was absolutely sure I had ralph'd to completion, my only option was to gently place it on the passenger's side floor (sans floor mats). All I needed was for it to last 5 more minutes on the trip home and then I could dispose of it and pretend this never happened.

Physically I felt such a relief. Sometimes there is this post-puke euphoria where you just feel, well... lighter. Unburdened with no longer having that feeling. Happy it is over with.

I place the key in the ignition and head for home. As I'm driving I can't help but stare at the bag. I can see it mocking me as it changes colors. The exterior was getting... damp. If this were someone else's vomit, I would have been vomiting because of it. Just... so gross.

I get home and park the car. I walk around to the passenger side to begin the extraction process. I pull the trash can close and I have to psych myself up to deal with this horrible hurling happenstance.

And this next part, well... it would be hilarious if it weren't so damned disgusting.

I stare at the bag.

The bag stares back at me.

I take a deep breath and approach the bag.

The bag grins at me.

I gingerly grasp the very tippy-top in an effort to not touch any of the offending material.

I slowly lift up the bag.

And the very instant it reaches just enough height to do the most damage...

The bottom falls out.

If the bag had broken just as I was picking it up, the carnage would have been minimal. Only a small area to clean up. But clearly this bag read the Wikipedia page on air burst nuclear weapons. It knew you get a much more devastating blast radius if you detonate from an elevated position.

A TARDIS worth of partially digested scrambled eggs just pour and splatter and spray onto the floor of my car. It looked like the bag was puking out my puke.

The bag is now dead but I can feel its ghost laughing at me.

I stand there frozen holding the top of this evil deceased white paper bag trying and failing to process what just happened.

I realize I have no idea what to do with this situation. This is something that would usually be followed with, "MOoooOOOoooommmmm! How do I clean up vomit?"

And she would say, "You'll never do it right. I'll clean it up."

And I'd pretend to be like, "Oh no, it's my mess. I could never let you do that for me."

And she'd insist and break out her endless supply of very specific cleaning potions and magics and soon it would be as if the vomit didn't even exist.

So, I guess my question is... do I have to get my car detailed now?

The Actual End.

#long post #the inevitable adventures of froggie #trigger warning #vomit mention #rape mention

[bcitisthelight]

hey remember when we were discussing how weird the whole cliegg thing is in AOTC. and you had thoughts, feelings and emotions. tell me about those XOXO

(Big TW for this post - I discuss human trafficking, sex trafficking, rape, child abuse, slavery, and PTSD in this post. It's about the realities of slavery and Tatooine and how it involves the Skywalkers.) Something that I almost never see in any discussion on the Lars family is how sharply the fanon headcanons and characterizations of diverge from the ones we get in the moves. Like, particularly Cliegg and the prequel trilogy. Like - I feel like there's this automatic assumption that the Lars loved Shmi and that they cared for Luke out of dedication to her and her family, and it's this huge found family vibe but like can I be real. Can I be super real right now. It’s something that I find kind of baffling, because when I watched Attack of the Clones, and on every rewatch since (and there have been many), it always seems kind of obvious to me that Cliegg bought Shmi as a slave, presumably as a house slave, if not outright as a part of sex trafficking. And I don't mean in one of those "He bought her to free her, he's a good guy, etc etc". I mean, he bought her as a slave with the original intention of keeping her as a slave. And what's really interesting, is you can get pretty much all the clues about that from the exchanges between Anakin has with Watto, his and Shmi's former master.

Again, I want to stress that, because I think it's crucial that we see this for what it is - not an exchange between a former employee and his boss, not an exchange between a kid and a member of his former community. His former slavemaster. The man who won him and his mother in a gambling game like so many fancy necklaces. The source and object of Anakin's childhood enslavement. Watto would have beaten them. He made Anakin, a child of 9 - and I read somewhere once that Anakin started in the races at 6 - ride in a pod race that no human has ever won before, with the full expectation that he would die. This is a being whose entire life has revolved around the certainty that society is not only capable of functioning, but functions best, when sentient beings can be bought and sold like property. And, to be real with you, because this is a thing that happens to people who suffer enslavement, he very likely loaned them out temporarily for sex trafficking purposes for a quick buck - a practice that is noted historically in virtually every society that operated on a system involving slaves.

It's important to recap that, because I do think it's impossible to understand how deeply horrifying the conversation they have is without that context. Like, let's look at how he tells Anakin about Shmi -

This scene is....so telling to me. From the outset, Watto said he sold her as a slave. Like, it was a slave exchange. Watto heard about her freedom later - clearly, Cliegg bought her, and behaved in a way - intentional or not - that Watto believed he was buying her as a slave to own as a slave. That part is not subtext, that's just actual text.

"But Mikhayla" some will say "he freed her the second he bought her - he bought her in order to free her." Except....there is genuinely nothing in the movies, and off the top of my head, the wider narrative, that ever indicates that that's true. In fact it makes no sense in that case, for Watto to have not known that Cliegg was buying her in order to free her. Why would he have to hide that? Watto presumably doesnt care what happens to her, because he's selling her. In the larger materials, its said that his shop fell on hard times, and in the movies, we can see the proof. The script says he's sitting outside his shop, but at that point it resembles more of a kind of beaten down stand. He's still selling junk, but less and of poorer quality - presumably, he's spent all his money on gambling debts. And the thing is, slaves are expensive. He sold her years prior, and I bet he fed himself on that money for a very long time - he was a very motivated seller, as barbaric as that language is to use about a transaction involving a human person. He's not going to be fussy over why the person buying her wants to buy her. There's also the fact that this is a society that vastly runs on slavery, and large plantation owners would often "rent" out slaves to smaller but still profitable farms. And Cliegg is a moisture farmer with presumably a large tract of land for water vaporizers. If anything, I can see Watto having rented Shmi to her, Cliegg taking a liking to her, and then approaching Watto to buy her. I mean, if he's profitable enough to just buy a slave, then he clearly had at least some money. "He spent his whole savings!" Show me that in the text. "He loved her from the start!" Show me that in the text. "But Mikhayla," yet others will say, "he did free her! And then married her! He clearly meant from the start to free her, and only bought her to get her away from Watto. He could have never seen her as property. Who would marry their slave?" Except, in the real world, this is...another thing we see across multiple historical records, masters buying women as slaves and then later freeing them in order to legally marry them. PARTICULARLY in societies that operate so heavily on an entire caste system involving slaves - we can look to the Roman Empire, for example. Countless Roman officials, merchants, and military officials bought women, fell in love with them, and freed them in order to marry them. "But maybe she said yes!" (I know these are not your objections, but as you know, I'm an attorney, which means I constantly have to find an argument to fight against). So, to this imaginary detractor I say: I feel like it should be rather obvious, but I'll say it just in case - it is impossible for a slave to consent to any action they perform at the request of a slave master. It cannot happen. A woman who is enslaved cannot consent to marrying the man who bought her, and who has very likely been raping her up until this point, and wants to now marry her - usually, to make any children he had by her legally his children, and therefore citizens, rather than slaves themselves.

So really, whether or not Cliegg had a change of heart doesn't actually change my mind about his actions towards Shmi. I don't care if Cliegg DID love her - in fact, I'm sure he DID love her. People can and have convinced themselves of all kinds of moral superiority, people can claim to love someone while owning them as property! Shmi could never consent to marrying a man who held her as a slave. Even if he freed her, and she willing chose to stay there for a few years, and then he asked her to marry him. In my head, you can't overcome that power imbalance. Cliegg will never not be a man who once believed Shmi was a thing to be owned. He will never be a man who didn't see her as property. Like, at some point, it actually becomes kind of more and more unlikely that this is a guy who took up this transaction for non-malicious purposes. Because we simply do not see it in the movie. What I see in the movie is a slave owner saying he fell on hard times and sold his slave to a farmer who probably needed help on his land or in his house - he has no wife, so the latter is probably more likely. I see him saying that at the time of the transaction, he had no idea that Cliegg intended to free her. And for all that Cliegg calls Shmi his darling, his love, his wife - not once do we ever hear of any evidence that Shmi saw this as a love match. In fact, the only thing we find out about her daily life with the Lars family is that in the mornings, she wakes up early and goes to pick mushrooms. You know. A task for the house. An unpleasant task, done before everyone else is awake, that she does absolutely alone. I'm just saying. These implications are not good ones. I will say though, for all this, do you know what really sells me on the idea that the relationship between Shmi and Cliegg is is not a consensual one, is Anakin's reaction to it. This is a boy whose entire hopes and dreams have revolved around his mother's freedom. You have more excellent writing than me on this, but the moral injury Anakin suffers leaving his mother behind is. Intense. All he wants is to one day free her. In a way, a part of him is always that tiny boy who couldn't bear the idea of leaving behind his mom, who swore, the last time he saw her, that he would free her. And at this moment, all of his dreams have seemingly come true! His mother is free. According to Watto, she's found love, and married. For all he knows, she's had other children. Maybe that could involve SOME complicated emotions, but mostly you would expect that he would feel, at the very least, relieved. Happy. Interested, curious. Instead, this is his reaction:

He's grim, business like. He is not happy. He is not relieved. He doesn't even seem to acknowledge that she's still alive - the way he reacts is not a man who thinks his mother is out of danger. To Anakin, who grew up enslaved until 9 and knows how this society works, it seems almost immediately apparent that the Lars are just a different kind of danger. There's also this rather interesting detail:

This is a boy who bleeds, every second of every day, longing for a family. He basically begs at obi-wan's feet day and night, to be acknowledged as a son. His reaction to his wife's pregnancy is radiant joy - his reaction to know she could die, profound existential horror. I mean good god, he basically turns Palpatine aka Satan Himself into a father figure, because he's that desperate for one. And here, this man is claiming him as his family. He's talked about being excited to see him. He talks about planning with Shmi to meet him. He calls him "son". And Anakin doesn't give him another moment of his time, the second those words are out of his mouth. It's silence. For a boy who is so starved for intimacy he genuinely falls in love with the very first girl who was ever nice to him, to react to a claim of relationship this way. It's bizarrely out of character for him. Unless it isn't. UNLESS he's disgusted by that claim, instead of relieved by it. If he thinks his mother has been bought and then forced into marriage, of course he hates Cliegg. I remember when we were watching the movie together, and remember I said to you "You can just tell Anakin is thinking, 'Call me son one more fucking time'" And can I be real, I have so much more to say about this. As you know, I actually have essays of opinions and feelings about Shmi Skywalker and her horrible life, and how Anakin was the one bright point she had in that horrible life. I have feelings about how she gave away her only happiness, because she knew he did not deserve the life of a slave. I had ideas about how you could turn this into a way to actually fix AOTC and make it better, a way you could use it as an excuse to get rid of the Tusken arc entirely without losing the tragedy of his mother's death. But this post is already so fucking long and I'm sure you're tired of me talking xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

#star wars #human trafficking tw #abuse tw #csa tw #rape tw #slavery tw #all the trigger warnings #GOD THIS MADE ME REALIZE HOW MUCH I FUCKING LOVE SHMI SKYWALKER #BECAUSE SHE HAD JUST #THE SHITTIEST LIFE RIGHT #LIKE SHES BORN INTO SLAVERY AND SHE DIES IN SLAVERY SHE LOSES EVERYTHING HER SON IS GONE SHES MARRIED TO HER SLAVE MASTER SHE DIES IN PAIN #BUT HER LOVE FOR ANAKIN WAS SO GOOD #SO INTENSELY AFFECTIONATE AND VALIDATING #EVEN IN ALL THAT HELL #THAT WHEN ITS RIPPED AWAY FROM HIM FOR GOOD ANAKIN BASICALLY LOSES HIMSELF ENTIRELY

[thetourguidebarbie]

This is incredibly graphic, will be triggering, and you should take care of yourself and your mental health first.

That said, I have been reluctant to launch ad hominem attacks at people and tried to keep anything I say narrowly focused on the issues of antisemitism, and occasionally the tendency of the internet to spread misinformation.

I have always found the defense of Hamas’s attack as “necessary fighting back against “colonizers”” to be abhorrent, but I cannot emphasize enough that this was vile, horrifying, cruel, dehumanizing violence committed on Jewish women for being Jewish.

Rape is not a productive tool of war and is never necessary. If you DO accept the argument that “fighting back” is the answer, which I vehemently disagree with, but do you I guess, this served no purpose other than to desecrate bodies and humiliate women. You cannot be an ally to women and defend this. You just can’t.

If you defend Hamas specifically, you are not actually concerned with justice. Stop cloaking your hatred in pretty tumblr-friendly language. If this were literally any other minority, you would be speaking up.

If you defend this, you are a hateful, cruel, evil person. If you’re offended by me saying that, then yes, I do mean you, and I wish nothing but the worst for you.

#hamas #israel #antisemitism #october 7 #rape #trigger warning #angie talks politics #tw rape #trigger warning rape