This is a REAL pamphlet given to a young person at a crisis pregnancy center. According to them, using a condom is “about as safe as hanging over a cliff with a frayed rope.”
Talk about lies and misinformation.
Crisis pregnancy centers (CPCs) pose as legitimate reproductive health centers. They have a track record of outright lying to women and work to dissuade people from exercising the right to choose. They often advertise as if they provide abortion services, drawing people in by promising free reproductive health services, including free pregnancy tests, ultrasounds, and options counseling.
Teen Wolf AU Trailer: Sleepwalking Please, note: viewer discretion is advised
Stiles doesn’t remember waking up. It just happens to him at some point. He wanders through reality, goes to school, hangs out with Scott, but something just isn’t right. When he starts seeing things, he thinks he’s gone insane. In a mental clinic he meets a guy who doesn’t remember waking up either. Seems like they’re stuck in Bardo, the in-between state, but they can’t be dead. They have never died. Haven’t they?..
Sometimes I find crisis pregnancy center posters at my school, and when I’m feeling particularly feisty, sometimes I write back signs of my own.
I can’t think of something more disgusting than a fake clinic that preys on vulnerable individuals like crisis pregnancy centers do. And what better way to fight back then to provide actual resources to help those in that vulnerable position?
Tips for Getting to the clinic from an escort. Save yourself lots of hassle
If you have a companion, make sure they are level headed, or at least know that the protestors will say things to attempt to anger them and make them lash out. They want to anger you or your companion to violence so they can call the police and stop you from getting the abortion
Be prepared to pay for parking, be it a meter, parking garage, or parking lot. Not every clinic has a designated parking lot
BE AWARE OF CRISIS PREGNANCY CENTERS aka FAKE CLINICS that will try to lure you in and make you miss your appointment. They will offer your “free help” or “free ultrasounds”. This is all a tool to get you to miss your appointment. They usually don’t have an ultrasound tech on site and will make you wait for one to arrive, usually long after the doctors at the abortion clinic have taken patients back. Also, CPC typically have no doctors or nurses on staff. They are typically religious organization that will ask you question that a doctors office never would.
Bring headphones. Put them in as you walk to the clinic.
Escorts are there to assist you and walk with you to the clinic. They will typically ask your permission to walk with you. They may wear vest that say “clinic escort” or “clinic volunteer”. Escorts are there to create space and help you get through the protestors.
If a protestor gets too close or won’t leave you alone after you asking them too, please call your local police office and tell them about the harassment. This can be done anonymously.
Hey “pro-lifers” if your agenda is right/gods will/good why you gotta spread hate/lies/fear mongering/propaganda/create fake clinics/violate the rights of abortion patients and assault pregnant people outside clinics? Just curious
As some of you already know I’ve decided to go
on writing the Cassiopeia sequel, which by now most people know as College AU. I’m not sure how it’ll work,
but Jamie and Claire are still talking to me in this universe - so I’ll go on
writing it as long as they want. This story started with Cassiopeia and is
preceded by The Captain and Anamnesis. I hope you enjoy it! See you on the
other side! <3
“So how did it go?” Jamie asked eagerly, as
Claire joined him in the refectory for an early dinner. He had left her at the
hospital with a soft kiss of good luck, as she headed to discuss his – mostly fake,
mind – clinical history with Doctor Potter.
“He gave me a hard time with your differential
diagnosis, but I stood my ground.” She bent to kiss him with fervour and sat
with her tray next to him. “It’s an A for us, Captain.”
“Well done!” He cheered and kissed her again. “I
was that bit worried, ye ken. When I left ye, ye look like ye had been struck
by a sledgehammer.”
“I was a little disconcerted by our talk, I’ll admit
to it.” She gave him a look under her lashes. “You are full of surprises,
“You never asked before.” He smiled and
shrugged, munching his peas. She hawked.
“Why did you decide to…” She gave him an
embarrassed look. “You know – wait. Clearly it wasn’t a problem of lack of
“I dinna felt that strongly about them.” He
gave her a shy smile. “Women can be very frightening, ye ken. Like you, when
someone in line before ye orders the last piece of blueberry pie ye were coveting.”
“Oh, shut up!” Claire gave him a narrow look.
“I really was asking a question, you
“It wasn’t so much that I decided.” He said slowly. “More that I’ve never met a lass that
made me want to give her that last piece of myself. To be so vulnerable…so
exposed. I’ve never dated anyone that I trusted with my soul.”
“That’s very romantic.” She said with
amusement, but honesty resounded in her voice too. “Most men think sex is just
mechanics and chemical reactions happening in the body, mostly in the nether
“I flatter myself to think I’m not most men.” Jamie gave her a one-sided
smile. “When a man lays with a woman…almost always he can overpower her. He has
the physical strength to command her if he wants to. And so a woman
relinquishing her body requires trust – that the man won’t abuse that power.
When a man takes a woman he loves, he bares his soul as well as his body – and
without any shields between them she can break him entirely, just there and
then, if she isna worthy of such trust.”
“Did your father teach you that?” Claire asked.
“Aye.” Jamie nodded. “In a way. He also taught
me that a moment of bodily pleasure can echo in eternity. My father encouraged
me to envision myself with that particular woman in twenty years afore deciding
if I really wanted to bed her – if I couldna see it or if the sight was too
daunting, I had my answer and should keep my cock well hidden inside my pants.”
“And how do you see yourself with me in twenty
years?” Claire asked playfully, but fear gripped her belly. Jamie’s big and
warm right hand enfolded hers and his left touched her cheek with tenderness
and – yes – want.
“Just like this.” He nuzzled her nose with his
own, his lips brushing the tip at the end. “Maybe with a bairn or two sitting
next to us. You – perhaps wearing a fancy suit - but the same face I have loved
since the day I first saw it. And at night we’ll go home and I’ll whisper you
silly things in the darkness of our bed, while I love your body. I see my
entire life with ye, Claire – and I can’t wait for it.”
He ended his declaration by kissing her, making
her purr with pleasure, her bones melting with the prospect of a lifetime
together – and the implicit recognition that he wished to made love to her.
They ate peacefully for a little while, but
Jamie kept throwing her charged looks. She knew he meant to ask something,
probably a question that made him deeply uncomfortable.
“You…Did you…” He cleared his throat and drank thirstily
from his glass of water. “When…I mean, if you wanted to tell me…” He looked at
her, helplessly trying to formulate a coherent sentence.
“Are you asking me how it was for me?” Claire
asked with amusement, enhanced by the sudden appearance of a rosy colour on his
cheeks. “How I lost my virginity?”
“Yes.” He answered between teeth, peeking above
his shoulder to watch for anyone close enough to eavesdrop. They were sitting almost
alone in the refectory – it was still early for most students to appear
searching for their dinner.
“Well,” She started, her fingers brushing aside
a stubborn lock of brown hair. “It was alright, I guess.”
“Alright?” He repeated, his finger fidgeting
with the spoon.
“Do you really want me to tell you the practicalities
of it?” Claire asked, raising a brow in his direction, slightly outraged.
“No.” Jamie answered hurriedly, almost spitting
his soup. “I just thought that…maybe it was more than alright.”
Claire glared at him intently, slowly chewing
her roasted chicken.
“I enjoyed it.” She finally said a clipped
tone. “But not because of any particular skills he had or some other mind-blowing
notions. I liked it because I felt connected – I had been lonely for so long. I
thought I had find something that could last; where I could belong. That’s
where pleasure was for me – the first
time at least.” She gave him a little smile.
“Were you together for long?” Jamie asked
six months.” Claire sighed. “It was complicated.”
“Was he your classmate?” He pressed with a poor
attempt at nonchalance. “Back in high school maybe?”
“No.” She started to bite on her red apple. “He
was friends with my uncle, obsessed with history type of guy. An assistant professor
– he actually teaches here. In History department.”
Jamie’s mouth stood ajar, the small and blue
vein on his temple starting to throb violently.
“Is he, by any chance, that…” He croaked. “…perky little man always wearing a suit
that sometimes comes and talks to ye in the library? Always staring at your
cleavage like he lost a damned coin in there?”
doesn’t stare at my cleavage!” Claire
highlighted, giving him an amber look of reproach. “But – yes, that’s him. His
name is Frank Randall.”
“Are you serious?” Jamie almost screamed. A
couple of students – colleagues from Jamie’s rugby team that were approaching
their table to salute him and maybe sit with them - quickly detoured to a distant
table, hearing the threat of his explosion. “Do you really expect me to sit
here and listen how you…you…shagged” Jamie’s
lips turned into an angry line and Claire’s face puckered hearing him. “A much
older man and still give him a pass to drool all over you, even when ye’re with
“Well,” She hissed. “If you don’t want to sit
you can get up and leave, then. You seem to have finished your dinner already.
God knows you’re making a fool of yourself in here, James Fraser.”
“Maybe it’s ye that’s making me look like a
fool.” He spat the words, his fingers shredding the paper napkin.
“Oh, me?” Claire gave him a harsh laugh. “I’m
the one that has to deal with your fans – I can’t even go to the bloody
bathroom without receiving nasty looks and whispers -“Oh, there she goes. Oh, what scandalous things did she have to do to
get him? Oh, King of Men could do so much better!”” She impersonated with
an affected voice, which seemed weirdly like Annalise’s. “I have to stand by
and watch every blonde thing talking about your ass and the size of your balls
in those rugby shorts, but suddenly you’re the one being fooled!” She shook her
head, rage and disappointment making her eyes glassy with tears. “And all of
this because I dared to have a past!”
Claire suddenly got up, carrying her tray. She
placed it in the proper container and stormed outside, almost stepping back
with the force of the wind that was starting to blow outside.
Jamie appeared behind her and held her elbow,
pushing her with him to a quiet corner in the shadow of the building. Students
were beginning to converge in a crowd, like kites flowing propelled by the
aroma of food.
“Why are you being like this?” She accused, her
golden eyes blazing.
“He has something of ye that I will never have!”
Jamie’s hands closed around her arms, gripping her. “You shared something so
intimate with him… He knows ye in a way that I don’t and that makes my wame
curl and boil!” He roared. “I could kill him right now for daring to touch you!”
“If you think that because I went to bed with
him, he knows me in any way better than you…” She fought against tears,
carelessly brushing her eyes with her sweater’s sleeve. “You haven’t been
paying much attention.”
“He saw you!” He grunted. “All of you! Frank was
the first man to take you. He kissed your neck, touched your breast, he…” He
avoided her gaze. “Tasted you. You moaned his name in passion. Please, promise
me you won’t talk to him again!”
“I’ll make no such promise!” Claire exclaimed,
her cheeks flaming. “I won’t pretend I don’t know him just to soothe your
damaged ego, James Fraser.” And then with her voice breaking. “You haven’t
touch me like that because you wanted to wait – to be sure. I have been waiting
for you, Jamie. You can erase every
memory of him.”
“I need ye to promise me, Claire.” He repeated,
almost pleaded. His eyes were dark blue, like bottomless oceans, too deep to
allow any light.
“You are my boyfriend.” She said. “You are not
my owner, damn you!”
And she yanked her arms from his grasp and
headed to her dorm, all the happiness she had felt one hour ago suddenly
Claire was lying on her stomach in bed,
listening to the rain tapping outside, water rivulets drifting down the window.
She needed to study - the next day she had another quiz and she still needed to
catch up on the characteristics of different heart murmurs. It was useless to try
while she was on such stormy mood; her concentration failed her, leaving her even
more troubled - and guilty to boot.
Her white phone vibrated – again - announcing
an incoming call. She turned it and watched the flicker of light, reading “Jamie”. It was accompanied by a photo
of him, which she had taken with her phone a couple of weeks before – he had
been laying in the grass, with golden shadows playing in his eyes and his wide
smile. It was almost achingly beautiful and she frequently fell asleep holding
her phone, gazing longingly at it.
He had called five times in the last half hour.
She hadn’t answer it – she was still very mad and wanted to show him his
primitive behaviour wouldn’t be tolerated – or forgiven – with such easiness.
The phone eventually stopped buzzing, only to
appear a message “Please, answer me”.
She had just put it down when it started vibrating again. She tried to cover
her head with her pillow, but eventually she grabbed it and slid the finger to
“Would you please stop calling me, I really don’t
want to talk…” She hissed to the phone.
Jamie’s voice returned from the other side of the line. His tone was contained,
but she immediately identified the devastation buried underneath it. It made
her entire body shook with irrational fear. “Please, Claire. I need you.”
“Where are you?” She asked, her lips feeling
“Outside.” He answered in a hoarse voice and
hang up the phone.
Claire opened her room’s door and rushed down
the stairs, barely noticing the steps flying under her bared feet. Her entire
mind and body were focused on reaching Jamie, finding him and holding him. She
knew that something had happened – something terrible, capable of crushing the
most solid and lively man she had ever known.
opened the front door and for a moment only registered the storm outside – rain
falling like a reenaction of the Great Flood, finally there to erase everything
and make the world start all anew, sinners dying in the arms of saints so the
world could be cured. Thunder rolled not far away – the air was filled with the
faint smell of ozone, clinging to her nose and filling her mouth with the taste
He was standing in the middle of the street, in
the space that separated their buildings, no more than a shadow amongst shadows.
When he saw her, he walked to her with uncertain steps, as if he could barely
summon enough strength to cover the small distance. Claire noticed he was on
his shirtsleeves and wasn’t wearing a coat – he must have rushed out of his
When she finally could distinguish his
features, she saw the endless drops that slid across his high cheekbones – not only
rain, but tears that stream from his haunted blue eyes; salted water mixing
with heavenly outpour. Her chest felt tight, a band of sorrow already lodging
itself around her heart.
He stopped when only a step separated them.
Claire noticed he was shaking badly, cold and strong emotion firing every nerve’s
“My father is dead.” He whispered to her in a
cracked voice, as he drowned in the flood.
Google maps screenshot of a crisis pregnancy center (CPC) in Ventura, CA.
CPCs pose as legitimate reproductive health centers. They have a track record of outright lying to women and work to dissuade people from exercising the right to choose. They often advertise as if they provide abortion services, drawing people in by promising free reproductive health services, including free pregnancy tests, ultrasounds, and options counseling.
Google maps screenshot of a crisis pregnancy center (CPC) in Bakersfield, CA. CPCs pose as legitimate reproductive health centers. They have a track record of outright lying to women and work to dissuade people from exercising the right to choose. They often advertise as if they provide abortion services, drawing people in by promising free reproductive health services, including free pregnancy tests, ultrasounds, and options counseling.
I’m not ready for a baby. Should I get an abortion?
Someone asked us:
I am 17 and not ready for a baby. Should I get an abortion?
This is a question only you can answer. If you’re pregnant, the decision to get an abortion, give a baby up for adoption, or raise a child yourself can be a hard one, but you’re the only one who can make it.
But you’re not alone either, and talking it through with someone you trust, someone you know will be supportive – a parent or family member, doctor, counselor, and/or friend – can help you sort out your feelings.
You can visit a Planned Parenthood health center to learn about and discuss your options, and our website has a lot of great information about things to consider when making decisions about abortion,adoption, and parenting.
(Just be careful of “crisis pregnancy centers,” fake clinics run by anti-abortion activists who try to scare people out of having abortions.)
Even though it’s important to think carefully about your decision, which may take some time, it’s best not to wait too long. Abortion is safer when it’s done earlier in a pregnancy, and it’s important to get pre-natal care as early as possible if you decide to continue the pregnancy.
because having the legal right to an abortion doesn’t mean shit if you can’t pay the $500 and up cost or you don’t have any way to get to the only abortion clinic in your state because it’s thirty miles away and you don’t have the money for a car and there’s no public transportation or if you just don’t have the time to get to an almost-inaccessible clinic because you work three jobs and you can’t afford to take a day off!!
not to mention what if the clinic is one of those fake clinics where conservatives pretend to be abortion doctors and tell you that you’re a horrible person for wanting one, or what if you don’t feel safe in a clinic because everyone assumes you’re a woman but maybe you’re non-binary or a man or really a pregnant person of any gender who doesn’t want to be pregnant!!!
or your decision is questioned because you’re autistic or bipolar or any one of a number of neurodiversities and someone thinks you couldn’t possibly be “”“"sane”“”“ enough to choose what you do with your body
a person’s ability to access care that they need is so much more important than their "choice” whether or not to have that care. because lots of people (trans* people, people of color, low-income people, low-income trans* people of color etc) have to go through pregnancies that they don’t want or can’t afford because while they have the legal right to their “choice”, they don’t have access to the money or time or safety to actually MAKE that choice.
The Fake Abortion Clinics Of America: Misconception
Women across America who are seeking abortions are accidentally booking appointments at Crisis Pregnancy Centers — pro-life, government-funded religious centers that don’t provide abortions, but instead try to talk women out of terminating their pregnancies. VICE News investigated the misleading practices used by Crisis Pregnancy Centers to draw in women with unplanned pregnancies, and the misinformation that is spread to discourage them from pursuing abortions.
Write about a character who happens to be the doctor a very poor village… except that that they have been living a lie. Those diplomas and degrees on the walls of their clinic are fake. How did they end up like this? Do they do it for the money, or for the people of the village?
anyways I’m going to delete this probably because I’m sick about talking about my feelings online but like i ….remember back in high school and i was choosing what i wanted to do for uni so i thought… ill pick fashion and intl studies because it has the highest mark. and i can’t do art because my mom will hate me, so design is the next best thing
i remember seeing like…comme des garçons or something. maybe on tumblr. and then looking it up and thinking …wow! clothing can be like this. you can make this and put it on a runway and people accept it. i think the first time i ever saw it in class i was doubly as excited because like…they were teaching us about it and no one knew what it was and it was so cool to see it recognised in a university context maybe.. like to ppl who have known fashion for a long time its not a big deal, cause its common knowledge right? but i thought it was soooo cool. i think i was like 17
wanted to know everything about fashion that wasn’t like. pretty dresses or bikinis or something
lately I’m so sick of fashion. shopping isn’t fun these days. feels really clinical or fake or something. but i still like clothes. i think the moment you put something on and it just feels right? thats a good feeling. clothing can be feeling….like a hug, or remembering something, smell of someone else, reminder of time passing. i think i think too much
I read a comment on a video about Ferguson and they start going on a tangent about how those people deserves it for mooching off tax payer’s moneys and what not
and it’s like, THAT’S NOT THE POINT HERE. The point is that innocent citizens are being brutally handled, gassed, gunned down, treated like they’re a threat (I mean, snipers, really??), and treated like animals because our society still stands on a very racist structure. These people don’t deserve this when they’re trying to protest the inhumane treatment of Michael Brown and the many other black youth/citizens in the US.
They’re not the one going around picketing dead children’s and military funerals. They’re not the one setting up fake abortion clinic to trick and guilt women who just want a choice. And they’re not the ones that’s condemning a whole race because they view that their skin color makes them superior to others.
They’re peaceful, they want justice and respect. They’re not the ones with the guns and the shields pushing people over and putting people in choke holds for no good reason. They ask for justice and answers but all they get is a big fuck you and weapons shoved in their face.
If you’re watching that fucking video and all you could think about is your tax money, you need to re-evaluate yourself. It’s 2014 and racism is alive and thriving under the guise that we’re living in a post-racist society.