Bi Family Incest
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Bi Family Incest
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River: (to Shepherd Book) We want you to marry us.
Simon: What? We... no! (pause) What?
River: Two by two... Everyone has a match, a mate, a dopple. I love you.
Simon: No, River... mei-mei... of course, I love you too, but we can't be married. (to Book) She's really crazy! (River kicks Simon in the shin) Ow! Ah, no, I — I don't mean crazy... that's just — you know that's not something brothers and sisters do. I mean, on some planets but only pretty bad ones.
Monica: You were my Midnight Mystery Kisser?!
Ross: You were my first kiss with Rachel?!
Monica: You were my first kiss ever ?!
Chandler: What did I marry into?!
Monica: Here's a few things you can discuss: mucus, fungus, and the idea of me and Ross doing it .
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Admit it, you just can't look away from these taboo onscreen relationships . Incest — be it between siblings, cousins, step-family members, or parents with sons and daughters — is one of those icky subject matters we just can't help but be fascinated by. And it's been portrayed in films more than a few times. If you're curious, here are some of the most memorable examples of incestuous relationships in movies.
Siblings Chris and Cathy, the product of incest themselves, begin an incestuous relationship due in large part to being locked in an attic together (as they went through puberty) by their evil grandmother in the 1987 film based on the 1979 novel by V. C. Andrews.
Hyper-sexualized step-siblings Kathryn and Sebastian make a wager that involves sleeping together in this high school-set 1999 adaption of the 1782 novel Les Liaisons Dangereuses by Pierre Choderlos de Laclos.
Fifteen-year-old Oscar falls in love with his stepmother, Eve, played by Sigourney Weaver, in this 2002 film.
In this steamy Paris-set 2003 film, twins Théo and Isabelle sleep naked together, and it's insinuated that their relationship is sexual, especially as American exchange student Matthew enters the mix.
Julianne Moore stars as Barbara Baekeland, a mother who attempts to cure her gay son, Antony, played by Eddie Redmayne, by seducing him in this 2007 drama based on real events. (There's even a super creepy threesome scene.)
Daniel Day-Lewis stars as a single dad who doesn't realize his isolated existence with his daughter has resulted in her becoming infatuated with him in this 2005 drama.
A promiscuous widow and her 17-year-old son begin an incestuous relationship in this 2004 French-Austrian-Portuguese-Spanish film.
In the very loose '90s adaption of Emma , Cher ends up with Josh, her ex-stepbrother, which is only sort of weird.
In the 2013 Canadian-German sci-fi film based on the first book of Cassandra Clare's The Mortal Instruments series, demon fighters Clary and Jace fall in love over a series of life-and-death encounters, only to discover too late that they are actually siblings. Despite lots of kissing and other un-sibling like behavior, they have to figure out how to be together without actually . . . being together. (Spoiler alert: they later find out they aren't actually related . . . not that this fact stopped them from majorly making out).
In the 2013 drama based on a Pulitzer Prize-winning play, cousins Little Charles and Ivy are secretly in love with each other before it comes out that they are actually brother and sister.
Princess Leia and Luke Skywalker share a kiss before discovering they are twins in the first Star Wars movie.
Eli ( Owen Wilson ) said it best: "I did find it odd when you said you were in love with her. She's married you know . . . and she's your sister." To be fair, Margot ( Gwyneth Paltrow ) is Richie's ( Luke Wilson ) adopted sister in the 2001 Wes Anderson movie.
In Guillermo del Toro's 2015 gothic horror film Crimson Peak , Tom Hiddleston and Jessica Chastain play brother and sister Thomas and Lucille, who have an eerily close relationship — to the point that Thomas's wife Edith ( Mia Wasikowska ) has to fear for her life due to Lucille's jealousy.
A very young Brooke Shields and Christopher Atkins play cousins who survive a shipwreck and then fall in love in this 1980 romantic adventure drama film.
Eva Green plays a woman who gives birth to a clone of her late lover (played by Matt Smith) and then has sex with him when he's an adult in this 2010 film.
In the onscreen adaptions of the novel of the same title by Vladimir Nabokov (there are two film versions, one 1962 and one in 1997), a 30-something man named Humbert Humbert marries the mother of a 12-year-old girl he hopes to become sexually involved with.
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'Incest' mum and son 'caught having sex after son's wife walks in on them'
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FIRST LOOK AT TWO 'lead family members' OF 'INCEST CLAN' COLT FARM IN AUSTRALIA
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Tony L Lavoie, 43, and his mum Cheryl Lavoie, 64 were allegedly caught having sex by Lavoie's wife, who walked in on the pair at their home in Massachusetts, US on May 20
A mum and son who were allegedly caught having sex after the son's wife walked in on them have appeared in court.
Tony L Lavoie, 43, and his mum Cheryl Lavoie, 64, were allegedly caught romping in Massachusetts, US on May 20.
Police were called to their home after reports of a disturbance, local newspaper Sentinel and Enterprise reports.
When officers arrived at the property, they were allegedly met by the cousin of Lavoie's wife, who claimed her relative had walked in on her husband having sex with his mum and phoned 911.
According to reports, the pair told police that it was consensual sex and that it was the first time sexual intercourse between them had happened.
When a police officer asked Lavoie why it had happened, he is said to have replied "I don’t know. It just happened.".
Lavoie allegedly claimed her and her son had become close before the incident, and had sex after kissing.
Police charged the mother and son with incest, which carries a maximum sentence of 20 years in jail.
Both pleaded not guilty to the charge when appearing in court.
At the hearing, the judge ordered the pair not to see each other.
They are next due in court on October 27.
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The author and her dad in the countryside.
On a Saturday afternoon in April 1992, when I was 13, my father told me we needed to talk. We sat on the itchy baby-blue blanket on my bed in the room I shared with my 8-year-old brother. I didn’t know what he was going to tell me. I already knew. I didn’t want to know.
For the previous four months, my father had been in and out of the hospital in Lexington, Ky., half an hour from this rented duplex in Richmond, where he’d lived since he and my mother divorced three years earlier. Dad taught business law at Eastern Kentucky University and served as a deacon at our church. Since my brother and I spent most of our time with my mother and stepfather, two hours from Dad in a small town south of Louisville, his life seemed far away when we weren’t with him. I knew he’d had some kind of “blood problem” for a while; he’d explained that much when we accompanied him to get his blood drawn during our summers together. “Like leukemia?” I once asked, as we drove away from the doctor’s office, thinking of the hokey Lurlene McDaniels books scattered around my middle school classrooms, in which innocent cheerleaders bravely fought some sort of cancer or another, hoping to get one kiss before they died. “Something like that,” he answered.
My father seemed healthy. He ate lots of fresh salads, played racquetball in the mornings, headed off to the gym in the afternoons, duffel bag slung over his shoulder. On summer evenings after dinner, we’d take long walks, bringing stale bread to a flock of ducks at a nearby pond, or circling the track at the university, chatting about whatever Peter Jennings had mentioned that night on the news, my brother running in front of us. Sometimes we held hands as we walked.
The author and her father, playing ball in the yard.
There were signs that everything wasn’t OK. In December 1991 Dad called to tell me he needed some kind of anal surgery. It was so bizarre and removed from my day-to-day—the basketball games, the first boyfriend—that I didn’t ask too many questions. I was an insatiably curious straight-A student, and yet, I never once said to my father or mother, “So, is this related to the blood thing?” Thinking back on it now, it must have been purposeful obliviousness: Let’s keep this going—life as it is now—as long as we can.
A few weeks after the surgery, Dad was back in the hospital. The doctors had found a brain lesion. Dementia. I tried to ignore the wacky things he said during visiting hours. It was when he was finally released, home again, and OK enough to care for us over a weekend, that he told me we should talk.
“I’m HIV-positive,” he said, his voice breaking, as we sat facing each other on the bed.
I knew what this meant. I had a subscription to Time . I’d read about AIDS, the lack of a cure, Ronald Reagan, Ryan White, the firebombed houses of victims. I knew that he was definitely going to die, in the next few years, if not sooner, and in the most unacceptable way possible, of a disease I’d seen mostly accompanied by picketers and slogans on the news. My classmates casually tossed off their opinions about AIDS on a regular basis: that everyone with HIV should be shipped off to an island, that it was a cure for fags, that they deserved it.
I also knew that my dad must be gay—because, well, of course. While I’d never met an out gay man, I kind of knew what they were supposed to be like from movies and TV, and Dad fit the mold: He loved to cook; he cleaned obsessively; he kept the International Male catalog around, because, he said, “I like the clothes.” Dad never dated after the divorce—he didn’t even notice women when they walked by. The idea of my father paired up with another woman seemed totally unnatural and absurd to me, and selfishly, I didn’t mind. I loved being the only girl in his life.
“You know,” I said to Dad, “I asked Mom once if you were gay.” Asking, but not asking.
“Gay?” he scoffed, taken aback, disgusted. “I’m not gay . ” You can get it from women too, you know. He’d cheated on Mom, just once, during a conference in Nashville, years ago. A flight attendant. One mistake.
Five months later, a few weeks into my freshman year of high school, my father died. Mom confirmed what I’d already guessed—“Is there anything you want to ask about your father?” she’d said in our kitchen—after a long conversation she’d had with an openly gay friend from college, Pat, who had, apparently, been a confidant of Dad’s. I know it sounds strange, but I don’t remember anything else from that conversation—how I felt, what I said. Years later Mom told me that, according to Pat, Dad had been active in Lexington and Louisville’s gay club scene. “You don’t know how hard it is,” Pat had tried to explain.
There were no AIDS activist organizations, no ACT UP, no PFLAG in Bul
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