#including their position in a number of things

[femnoah]

more bhna Burromuerto family lore PLS!

Okie dokie!

In this case, the Burromuerto's would kind of be replacing the Todoroki's in a sense? Except that both parents are as bad as each other and they weren't going for the perfect quirk. It's more of a status climbing thing.

So, to start it off, here's the list of the ORIGINAL quirks, no alterations, as well as ages at the start of the 'bnha plot.'

Antonio (45)- aromakinesis- can control the direction of scents as well as their strength

Esmeralda (46)- beauty - beauty is in the eye of the beholder, quite literally. She appears slightly different to each person based on what they're attracted to.

Carlos (22)- sleepless- He naturally doesn't need any sleep for his body to function perfectly. The only times he sleeps is when he trades it with others, allowing them to not need it for the number of hours he takes.

José (18)- obsequimbulist- produces an aroma that can coerce others into doing his will based on how attracted they are to him. The bigger the attraction, the stronger the hold and vice versa. (That is a made up word btw, I kind of merged a couple together and went with it)

Alejandro (15)- somnambulist- see og post

So, the reason that Alejandro and Carlos' quirks are both sleep based is simply genetics. Antonio's side of the family's quirks are mainly based on brain functions (like perceiving smells and sleep), their uncle Julio can slow a person's brain activity down by touching them.

Antonio and Esmeralda have always been very... ambitious people. It's what drew them to one another, back when Antonio had first debuted as a hero and Esmeralda was working in the same agency. Both of them are willing to do anything for power, including getting their hands dirty.

They're each other's partners in crime. When Antonio had to be a bit violent back in their home country to a rising pro-hero, Esmeralda was the one covering it up. When Esmeralda had to dispose of a more annoying coworker, Antonio was there to make sure no one looked into it. Absolute and utter devotion to themselves and each other in the pursuit of power. Devotion that isn't applied to their children. Sure they love them, but they also need to have use, they need to earn it. Love is transactional to them.

The family moved to Japanada when Antonio was almost caught for using excessive force on a petty criminal villain. It was getting too risky. So Esmeralda got a job working for the Hero commission and Antonio followed after as a Hero representative. This time though, their schemes were encouraged by those they worked with, it was easier to embezzle money from 'attack victims', easier to manipulate those around them, easier to come out on top. And then Esmeralda was assigned on the young heroes training programme after returning a run away child with what looked like a fox quirk.

Due to her own quirk, it was easier to keep the more unruly children calmer so she was assigned to give them their food at their mealtimes, earn their trust.

She never participated in any of the training herself, preferring to watch through the cameras. It was just so interesting, the experimentation that resulted in a manufactured quirk that could change other quirks. And it was always useful to see who had the potential to climb the ladder in heroics. The potential her oldest and youngest lacked.

Then, the incident happens when Alejandro is 11/12.

Carlos (18/19) finds out about their parents more shady workings and plans on running away, taking his brothers with him.

He had already seen first hand how it had affected them, how it affected him. His constant need for positive reinforcement like someone was constantly judging every second and to just fix what was wrong with others that led to him going to med school. José's apathy to others despite aiming to go to UA's hero course- only to be the best hero and prove his superiority. Alejandro's growing inferiority complex at José getting all the scraps of their parents' affection and trying to act more like him just so they would give him the same attention. But they didn't, he was lucky enough Carlos was there for him. His oldest brother who acted more like his parent than his actual parents did.

Carlos told José about his plans to move away, deciding that Alejandro was too young to tell just yet, trusting his brother with their future. José however, did not want that. He'd rather be at the top of the food chain than having to live a low, poor life for the sake of something as stupid and childish as love.

So he betrays him, sells Carlos out. Their parents have no other choice than to get rid of the unreliable one, the apparent mistake. After this, the only time they even mention their eldest, it's something negative. About how he was a failure, a disappointment, was too weak to survive. This only adds to Alejandro's need for perfection, to be the best, to be more like José than Carlos.

As far as Alejandro and the rest of the world is aware, Carlos had died in a villain attack that caused José's quirk to mutate to grow stronger. An incident that led to José getting a sponsor from a pro hero for the recommendation exam.

José is rewarded for his betrayal when Antonio cashes in a favour, giving José's quirk an upgrade just before José joins UA.

Now, instead of just coercion, José leaves them in a zombie like state that can only be broken out of by a smell that is stronger and more pleasant to that person (like when a specific smell brings on a good memory from childhood, that kind of thing) or if he releases them from it. It's essentially brainwashing but activated by smell rather than a vocal que.

By the time Alejandro is in UA, José is part of UA's big three.

And Carlos? Carlos is actually alive. The 'extermination' failed but he was too injured and eventually scarred up to be recognised or identified, and with amnesia, he was just another John Doe taking up a bed.

Eventually he gets kicked out of the hospital and into the streets where he learns how to adapt and survive, his memory returning slowly the next 3 years.

Alejandro knows absolutely nothing about any of this. All he knows is that his oldest brother is dead, José will always be the perfect child and no matter how hard he tries he'll never be good enough. He'll never be José.

Of course this all changes when he meets Noah and then after 'Noah's' disappearance where he ends up finding out about his family's history of misdeeds while trying to find out any trace on who 'Noah' really is. He basically gets a stressed out mad conspiracy theorist arc where people genuinely think he's going crazy before he vanishes or, well, is 'kidnapped'.

[locuas642]

If you wanna know how bizarre the gaming community can be, just consider that both the Playstation and Xbox are currently in metaphorical flames because of years of bad decisions and an underwhelming game generation and are struggling as they blindly try to find a path forward.

Meanwhile there are a bunch of people who think Nintendo NOT doing the exact same bad decisions Microsoft and SOny did for their consoles is a bad thing

[son-of-avraham]

Meeting with a rabbi within the next couple weeks !!!!!!!!!!!!!

[leafiion]

actually if neither fern or the MC were there I think the people that would be most likely to do the hero’s journey across reborn would be titania, amaria, cal or victoria.

[foldingfittedsheets]

The mattress company I worked for the first time no longer exists. It was long ago eaten and assimilated by a bigger company. But when I started it was an incredibly intense five weeks of training. I was told I was extremely lucky to be selected, and I was. From a pool of a hundred applicants only fifteen of us made the cut to entering the training program.

The course covered how to talk to customers, how to ask open ended questions, how to close a sale, and product knowledge. I learned a lot, and truthfully my greatest takeaway was a lot of social scripts that I could use in other areas of my life.

We also had a midterm exam and a final. Both included a roleplay element with a trainer and a written portion. They told us when we started that the course was challenging but it was still a shock to come in after the midterm and realize half the class had failed.

I was named valedictorian of training- a dubious honor as it meant I’d done the best in the class, but popular lore had it that valedictorians struggled the most on the sales floor. Lo, I struggled.

Not because I wasn’t good. I was. But because my manager set out to systematically destroy my self esteem. Every sale, every interaction I had was scrutinized and criticized.

If I sold a bed with protectors, moveable base, and pillows he’d ask why I hadn’t managed to sell pillow protectors too. His first trainee had thrived on being challenged and he’d never bothered to learn a different way to coach.

It was wretched. My performance started strong but nosedived after a few weeks with him. My trainer, a man I loathed for stonewalling me in my interview, came in to inform me I was on new hire probation. If I couldn’t get my sales numbers up I’d be let go.

His actual phrasing was, “When you have a bandaid do you like to rip it off or pull it slowly?”

Since it was eminently obvious why he was visiting and because I thought it was condescending I sweetly informed him that I liked to soak my bandaids in hot water so they come off on their own.

He was briefly startled at this derailing but then got on with the bad news. I signed some forms stating that I understood my job was in peril.

I went home furious. I thought long and hard about why I wasn’t succeeding and how frustrated I was with my manager. I came in the next day and my anger had crystallized into a cold sharp edge.

My manager opened his mouth to address the probation and I snapped, “Just leave me alone. Go in the back if I have a sale. If you must address a serious issue then you will give me praise on two things I did right and present it as a compliment sandwich. Otherwise just say good job and shut up. Your constant nitpicking just makes me anxious and I do worse. Back off.” Belated and begrudging I added, “Please.”

He raised his eyebrows in dim surprise but I’d gauged him well. He backed off. Dutifully he’d meander into the back when I had a sale and praised me when I closed it. I resented knowing it was only because I’d demanded complimented but they still boosted me up. My numbers skyrocketed, I landed my first split king sale, and I exited probation with flying colors.

The trainer came back in to congratulate my manager for turning things around. To my gratification he gave me credit for setting him straight and said I’d taught him a different way to lead. My manager would often genuinely praise that moment when I’d stood up to him, impressed with my stubborn refusal to fail and my insight into what would help.

My biggest takeaway from the whole thing was just that people need positive reinforcement to succeed. Praise people for doing a good job. If you’re ever in a position where you need to criticize someone put it in a compliment sandwich instead of just saying the negative.

[dawgdayze]

Coming back to tumblr after being on and off of it for a few years is reminding me of my old blogs from middle school and high school tbh…dark times…dark times indeed…

[thoughtportal]

Opinion Here’s how to get free Paxlovid as many times as you need it

When the public health emergency around covid-19 ended, vaccines and treatments became commercial products, meaning companies could charge for them as they do other pharmaceuticals. Paxlovid, the highly effective antiviral pill that can prevent covid from becoming severe, now has a list price of nearly $1,400 for a five-day treatment course.

Thanks to an innovative agreement between the Biden administration and the drug’s manufacturer, Pfizer, Americans can still access the medication free or at very low cost through a program called Paxcess. The problem is that too few people — including pharmacists — are aware of it.

I learned of Paxcess only after readers wrote that pharmacies were charging them hundreds of dollars — or even the full list price — to fill their Paxlovid prescription. This shouldn’t be happening. A representative from Pfizer, which runs the program, explained to me that patients on Medicare and Medicaid or who are uninsured should get free Paxlovid. They need to sign up by going to paxlovid.iassist.com or by calling 877-219-7225. “We wanted to make enrollment as easy and as quick as possible,” the representative said.

Indeed, the process is straightforward. I clicked through the web form myself, and there are only three sets of information required. Patients first enter their name, date of birth and address. They then input their prescriber’s name and address and select their insurance type.

All this should take less than five minutes and can be done at home or at the pharmacy. A physician or pharmacist can fill it out on behalf of the patient, too. Importantly, this form does not ask for medical history, proof of a positive coronavirus test, income verification, citizenship status or other potentially sensitive and time-consuming information.

But there is one key requirement people need to be aware of: Patients must have a prescription for Paxlovid to start the enrollment process. It is not possible to pre-enroll. (Though, in a sense, people on Medicare or Medicaid are already pre-enrolled.)

Once the questionnaire is complete, the website generates a voucher within seconds. People can print it or email it themselves, and then they can exchange it for a free course of Paxlovid at most pharmacies.

Pfizer’s representative tells me that more than 57,000 pharmacies are contracted to participate in this program, including major chain drugstores such as CVS and Walgreens and large retail chains such as Walmart, Kroger and Costco. For those unable to go in person, a mail-order option is available, too.

The program works a little differently for patients with commercial insurance. Some insurance plans already cover Paxlovid without a co-pay. Anyone who is told there will be a charge should sign up for Paxcess, which would further bring down their co-pay and might even cover the entire cost.

Several readers have attested that Paxcess’s process was fast and seamless. I was also glad to learn that there is basically no limit to the number of times someone could use it. A person who contracts the coronavirus three times in a year could access Paxlovid free or at low cost each time.

Unfortunately, readers informed me of one major glitch: Though the Paxcess voucher is honored when presented, some pharmacies are not offering the program proactively. As a result, many patients are still being charged high co-pays even if they could have gotten the medication at no cost.

This is incredibly frustrating. However, after interviewing multiple people involved in the process, including representatives of major pharmacy chains and Biden administration officials, I believe everyone is sincere in trying to make things right. As we saw in the early days of the coronavirus vaccine rollout, it’s hard to get a new program off the ground. Policies that look good on paper run into multiple barriers during implementation.

Those involved are actively identifying and addressing these problems. For instance, a Walgreens representative explained to me that in addition to educating pharmacists and pharmacy techs about the program, the company learned it also had to make system changes to account for a different workflow. Normally, when pharmacists process a prescription, they inform patients of the co-pay and dispense the medication. But with Paxlovid, the system needs to stop them if there is a co-pay, so they can prompt patients to sign up for Paxcess.

Here is where patients and consumers must take a proactive role. That might not feel fair; after all, if someone is ill, people expect that the system will work to help them. But that’s not our reality. While pharmacies work to fix their system glitches, patients need to be their own best advocates. That means signing up for Paxcess as soon as they receive a Paxlovid prescription and helping spread the word so that others can get the antiviral at little or no cost, too.

{source}

[kuidore]

Zoeystery headcanons ✧ KPOP Demon Hunters ✧ Zoey x Mystery

✧ ultimate yapper girl x listener boy

✧ He thought she was cute the moment he saw her bouncing her shoulders to soda pop while Rumi and Mira glared at her

✧ he’s not shy, just quiet. he just isn’t used to being human, and it tires him out a lot more than the others.

✧ He slowly feels like he’s actually relearning his humanity with Zoey, not just going through the motions of a human life like he had felt doing the idol thing

✧ Zoey gets anxious that people aren’t listening to her if they get too quiet. She’s used to being mid-ramble, asking a question, and not getting a response because the person tuned out and she didn’t realize

✧ after the first time she asks Mystery if he’s listening, he starts letting out noises of acknowledgement to reassure her while she’s talking so she doesn’t have to lose her train of thought

✧ he wants her to know that he’s listening very intently, and will sometimes even just say it out loud when he doesn’t have a better comment to make

✧ Zoey thinks it’s adorable, and she slowly feels less and less uncomfortable rambling for hours about television or animals or the songs she wanted to write

✧ She eventually just naturally stops apologizing for rambling or being too over the top, to him and to other people

✧ He starts getting better at conversations, but only with her. He asks social questions he used to think were stupid or boring or useless, because she’s the only one whose answers he actually wants to hear

✧ Mystery remembers nothing from his actual life on earth before the demon realm, and that doesn’t change even as he gets more comfortable as a ‘human’

✧ He couldn’t care less. He outright tells Zoey that it “leaves more room in my brain for the memories we make”

✧ she has to excuse herself from the room for a moment and yell into a pillow about how cute he is

✧ He can hear her doing it. when she comes back with a notebook he’s smiling wider than she thought he was even capable of

✧ she sits him down and they make a bucket list of everything she can think of that she considers “necessary to the human experience”, no matter how small

✧ she feels bad about being *excited* over his amnesia, but she can’t help but chatter about how she was going to be ‘introducing him to all this new stuff!’

✧ items on this list include but are not limited to; seeing the ocean in person, finding a really cool rock that you wanna keep forever, going to the bathhouse, and spending an entire day on the couch

✧ Mystery doesn’t really see what’s interesting about any of it, but he agrees because he wants Zoey to go with him

✧ He likes it, mostly because *she* likes it. He could be literally stranded in the arctic, if Zoey was finding a way to have fun he would be able to do it too. His number one idea of ‘fun’ is just… being around her.

✧ Mystery constantly wants to have Zoey on his lap/between his legs/sitting in literally any position where he can wrap his entire body around her from behind and rest his chin on her shoulder.

✧ he falls asleep like this fairly often. Zoey calls him her weighted blanket

✧ in general they both sleep a lot, they take afternoon naps together almost every day

✧ After enough time he’s got basically everything human down besides the ‘not barking at people who get too close to Zoey for his comfort’

✧ that one is an active choice. He has absolutely no intention of stopping that one

✧ bad saja boy became bad Mystery fairly quickly

✧ He pouts every time she says it. At first she felt bad about it, but eventually she started to find it cute

✧ he’ll sit with his head in her lap while she writes lyrics. She’s always patting his head and playing with his hair while mumbling about how soft it is.

✧ one day he realizes the whole time she’s been avoiding his bangs, and he grabs her hand and moves them away himself so she can see his face when she isn’t actively trying to kill him

✧ “You already know what I look like. I don’t care. If it’s just you.”

✧ She’s so giddy she grabs him and kisses him for the first time, and they’re both a little shocked by it

✧ it was the first time she saw him blush and she immediately became determined to make him do it as much as possible.

✧ She already has a notebook of things he likes and dislikes so she can remember (she has ones for Rumi and Mira too obvi)

✧ she adds a section to Mystery’s for things that make him blush

✧ she’s studying this guy like a bug and he secretly likes it

✧ He keeps the bangs cause most of the time he’s just so unable to control his own facial expressions that he would probably get into a fight in public

✧ but he starts pinning them back when he’s with Zoey

[elodieunderglass]

Hi! As someone who grew up in (I think?) New England and now lives in the UK, is living outside the US all it's made out to be? I know you moved a while ago and didn't go to "escape the US", but I imagine you can offer some insight. I'm sorry to be projecting some envy on to you, but the life you describe seems so lovely and livable. Your neighbors, your chickens, your gardens--it seems like you have some actual community. I (probably incorrectly) picture you living in the stereotypical British cottage that all of the British chicken-keeping companies seem to use to advertise their products. When I picture life in Europe, I picture the small fragments of life that we get from you and other bloggers, like the one with the escapist pet llama in France. I know that the UK has plenty of problems, and that we are only seeing slivers of your actual life, but do you think there's a different sense of community and livability over there that we don't have here? New England is also so standoffish that it might just be negatively skewing my perception of the US, too. Thanks for your thoughts, if you want to give them!

I’m sorry it took so long to reply!

I'm going to write a personal response about the impact of material conditions on parenting, because I think that's the most useful response and outcome. However, this response will be missing a lot of the political framing that it ought to have. I believe that describing the policies and infrastructure that the UK has, and how they impact on myself, explains a lot about how I am able to parent, what my life looks like, and in turn how that impacts a society. I think it is useful to outline SPECIFIC POLICIES and show what they do, because understanding specific material changes is a necessary part of any shift, let alone revolution. So this is not about escaping anywhere, or anywhere being better than anywhere else; it's about frameworks that I use which are (essentially) nonexistent in the USA, and how they contribute to a liveable society. It might seem like "why does a question about your life sounding nice, with chickens, start with 'maternity leave'?" but... this is the answer.

1. Parental Leave In the UK, parental leave is a minimum 6 months. After the first 6 weeks of full pay, the government pays you a very small stipend every week (currently £188/week) plus a very small child benefit. Some jobs offer better-paid leave as a benefit. You accrue your fully paid vacation time (6+ weeks) while on leave, and therefore most people use it at the end of their leave to pad it out. Parental leave can usually be split between parents. A perfectly normal thing is for a mother to take the first 6 months, then hand the baby to Dad for his three months off with it. Impacts of parental leave on my personal life: - I had time and space to adjust to being a parent. - I was able to pay my bills while not working. - Our children went to nursery (daycare) when they were over the age of 1. - I was able to return to work in the exact same job, back into the benefits of working (which, for me, include intellectual exercise and making a positive impact on the world.) Impacts of parental leave on society: - "it takes a village to raise a child" - well, here's the bloody village. - You spend time attentively raising a baby, in a stage of life where that returns a lot of dividends. - You have a year to make "parenting friends," forming networks and not being isolated. Everyone else with a baby the same age is doing exactly the same thing too. - Babies grow up in social circles with friends pre-installed. - Parents develop support networks. - "Toddler group" culture is normalised. On parental leave you are supported to build and structure a social life. - There is daily foot traffic and people moving around towns during the day, because Not Everyone is At Work. Some number of mothers are in coffee shops with babies every day of the week. Some number of parents are always drifting through libraries on a Thursday morning. In any town there will be adults in their 30s engaging with local resources, shops, events, classes, museums, culture, and friendships during the weekday - because they are having a year off with their baby. This is hard to articulate, but has huge knock-on effects. - after all, things like shops and museums and libraries are expected to be Always Open (staffed by workers) but workers are also expected to be Always Working (at places that are open) so when are working people going to use these resources? - people can be friendly and know the people in their community if they have had some time, space and reason to meet them.

Culture of part-time working In the UK it's very normal for kids to have two working parents, with one - or both - parents working part-time. That's what my husband and I do. Impacts of part-time working on my family: - My partner and I each spend one day a week with our nursery-age child while the other two are in school, allowing us to have a relationship with the youngest that isn't a constant four-way tug-of-war. - We meet our friends in a regular, routine heartbeat of connection, social expression, and support. It is extremely good to see your good friends once a week, and maintaining friendships over years is extremely good for you. - it's very good for the kids. not only do they have a lot of parental attention (which improves behaviour, teaches them skills, makes them good citizens, etc) but they see their own best friends all the time, building their own relationships and connecting THEM to the networks of "village." - we have adults during the week who can do things like go to the bank, pick up prescriptions, or do other capacity-balancing things within work hours. - we can collect our schoolchildren from school and they don't need afterschool care 2 days out of 5, saving money and letting us see our kids. - working part time means that we need to take less time off work over school half-terms and holidays. Impacts of part time working on society: - more working adults are available during the week to do things like the PTA, local committees, local volunteering, local mutual aid, local classes and groups. More working adults can do things like walk their dogs, have allotments, and take their kids swimming. Working adults can run toddler groups for new parents, who then return to work part-time, to come and help run the toddler group. - I feel like this is obvious, but if you want a society with amenities, then you have to staff and use the amenities. - If you don't have part-time workers, you're relying on retired and nonworking people to run your communities during the week - and they do a brilliant job! - but a balanced society should have people of different ages and abilities working together. - again, you have people in coffee shops in the week; you have people USING things and DOING things in the week. - you are NOT forcing one parent into Permanent Babycarer Role and one parent into Permanent Worker Role! This is threaded through all of these points, but you do NOT have to set up a permanent Stay At Home Parent / Working Parent dynamic when your society offers infrastructure for flexibility and supportive policies.

More Holiday (and different school holidays) Okay, so you're a working parent in the USA. You get 2 weeks of vacation time a year... and your kids are off school for 10-12 weeks of summer. how do you work and also raise your kids? well, usually through some unholy feats of juggling, expensive summer camps, and relying HEAVILY on family. This isn't sensible or necessary. (It's also incredibly hard on American teachers.) but it DOES mean that parents are in a vulnerable state in America. In many American families, the three-month childcare gap in summer makes it really hard for women in particular to work, widening inequality. In the UK, workers usually have 6 weeks of holiday. School summer holidays are only 6 weeks long. There are lots of other holidays - every six weeks, kids get a week off for Half Term - but with two parents and a culture of part-time working, you can just about cover it every year, and still have a bit of vacation time for yourself, Christmas, and travel. What this means for my family: - We can have three kids and two nearly-full-time jobs. - We see a reasonable amount of our children. What this means for society: - you've possibly picked up on the recurring theme that the USA requires a Designated Parent to be removed from the workforce/society and turned into a permanent caretaker, because otherwise the family couldn't manage the admin. The knock-on effects (resentful caretaker, resentful breadwinner, stressed out children, family with less economic/emotional resilience, caretaker expected to do all domestic chores and admin, breadwinner expected to exhaust themselves to provide resources, children do not interact/engage with breadwinner) form the backbone of the American family unit, which is not a great (or default) way of actually raising kids. - another huge expectation in America is that Family and the Church will step in to provide this missing material support - i.e. church summer camps. or grandparents taking the kids. Which - what do you do if you're not Christian? if you're estranged? if you're queer? if you moved away from the small town where that would have worked? if your parents are harmful or unsafe? again, policy changes and infrastructure are making family life workable.

Better Nursery Options (and nursery support) The UK has some of the worst nursery options and highest bills in Europe, I think? (citation needed) but it's still cheaper and higher-quality than the USA. My mother in the USA is always ranting about "don't you want to raise your OWN children?" and "they will be harmed by their carers, or made to watch TV!" but on the contrary - I LIKE my kids having multiple caretakers and a qualified professional care team. they are NOT watching TV. their nursery staff take them to do LOVELY THINGS and I can work an ENTIRE DAY without being CLIMBED ON. There is SOME financial support available for sending kids to nursery. From the age of 3, or younger if the parents are low-income, kids receive 30 hours a week free childcare from the government. (in practice they've just changed this and it isn't as great as it sounds but it's a slight savings). What this meant for my family: - I could afford three kids. And they are EXACTLY three years apart (lol). this means that as each child turned 3 and got cheaper childcare, the next one started, so we were never paying 2x nursery bills. - This allowed us to have children, a nice number and a nice age gap, who would therefore grow up together as a nice sibling set, but we could afford it and afford their childcare. - this literally shaped my family. size, age gap, and choices. everything about their dynamics, their relationships, and their future as siblings was shaped by this random scrap of policy. What this means for society: - EVEN STAY-AT-HOME MOTHERS IN BRITAIN SEND THEIR THREE-YEAR-OLD KIDS TO NURSERY. - EVEN CHILDMINDERS (people who run in-home childcare facilities alongside raising their own kids) PUT THEIR KIDS IN OTHER NURSERIES! - that's right - stay-at-home mothers DESERVE breaks. it's an EXHAUSTING job, with no recharge time or holiday, and tremendous pressure to be perfect all the time. - it is so, so normal to use nursery. it's not a bad choice, or a place to "park" your children, or something Bad Parents do, or something you Must Become A Stay At Home Parent to Avoid Using. there are no terrors of satanists or people being hurt or kids being locked in closets, as many Americans do worry about. having help with childcare is just a wider village, a care team, another aspect of your kids' lives. - seriously, if you speak to American parents on the internet, it isn't just a financial thing - daycare is perceived as being BAD for children, something a good mom should break herself to avoid using. - in the UK it's... nursery. Kids go to nursery. you pick the days. they go and pick daisies. - it's okay to have a break from parenting and being Touched all the time. - it's very good for kids to start making friends and having other carers.

Decent schooling In England, free public schooling starts at aged 4. children wear uniforms from age 4. hot meals are about £3 a day and are free for the first few years. there are no metal detectors or shootings. kids learn phonics, cursive, maths, tech, cooking, art, sports, etc. at a reasonable standard, not dependent on local property taxes - okay, so, background: in the USA schools budgets are state-set, but are ALSO often linked to local property taxes and local funding pots. so schools in "poor" areas generally have less resources, while schools in areas with nice houses and Good School Districts have a completely different experience. In some USA schools, teachers have to use food banks and buy pencils for their own students. It's all pretty wild and inconsistent. This is somewhat true in the UK (better schools tend to be in 'better' areas) but the funding is more consistently given and there is a national-level monitoring and regulation program. (it isn't left up to 50 insane separate states who all want to strip school budgets and cut their funding to do this according to Personal Vibes.) this means that you can just... send your kids to school. they learn things. and then come home. It's fine. you can just send your kids to school. everyone else is too. Many communities are walkable, and "driving kids to school" is not the default. Kids are expected to become independent earlier, and society is expected to be safer. at the age of 11 they usually walk to school with their friends. What this means for my family: - my kids are pleasant, the older two can read, they have opportunities and are supported. I don't feel like school is damaging them. On the contrary. - it isn't on me as (Femme Parent) to be their entire cultural and intellectual education. they're exposed to diverse viewpoints, people, and teachers. their mental landscapes are broader and more resilient than if it had just been me. - (I was homeschooled, you see.) What this means for society: - children are mildly educated. - children are fairly safe when they're Away From You. - teachers are a reasonable profession that's normal to go into. and teachers live fairly normal lives. - social inequality is reduced through equity introduced in education. - educational opportunities are more consistent and less stratified. - children can safely get out of family homes (and parents can work).

walkable communities, but you got that.

public transport, but you know about that.

socialised healthcare, but you get that. As a result of all these things, raising a family is materially different in the UK, with effects that knock on throughout. With one or two tweaks - now you have present and engaged fathers. Now women can be working parents without breaking themselves in half. Now babies make friends they'll keep their whole lives. Now you CAN be distant from toxic family because you don't need family support to raise kids. But all of those things could be put into policy. They are not something British people invented. ANY SOCIETY THAT LAYS THINGS OUT COULD ACHIEVE THIS. And I think that's worth saying and laying out. Livable communities can be made livable with livable infrastructure. infrastructure is something we can make.

[kingkaisen]

୨୧ FAMILY CHAOS ୨୧

♡ — 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: one year ago, you & your husband, Satoru, adopted two of his teenage students, Yuji & Megumi. Also, your biological daughter is now five years old, and it seems that every member of the Gojo household is experiencing their fair share of troubles and keeping secrets, yourself included. What exactly is going on this week?

♡ — 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓: 18+ ONLY || fluff, angst, brief description of smut, brief descriptions of violence, canonverse, fem reader, mentions of depression, skipped meals, & suicidal thoughts, pregnancy, & gojo being the best dad and husband ever!

♡ — 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: . . . 9k . . . :)

♡ — 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑’𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: this fic is part of my dad!gojo series, but reading the other parts isn’t necessary. || artwork by @/3-aem, ribbon dividers by @/cursed-carmine!

YOUR STORY — DAY ONE

Two positive pregnancy tests rested in the palm of your hand, one showing two vertical pink lines, while the other casually presented the utterly life-changing word: Pregnant.

How unsurprising.

It was only a matter of time — after all, your husband was like an animal, tossing, turning, and twisting you every possible way whenever he could get some alone time with you.

It was impossible to know which night of love-making had led to your current conundrum: Was it the night all of your kids spent their Saturday evening elsewhere? Or, perhaps, the time Satoru had you in a mating press position on a hotel bed? No, it had to have been the time he returned home from a mission amidst your solo shower, and his lack of patience led to him slipping in behind you, and furthermore, slipping into you, all the while his hand-

“Ready?”

Satoru’s voice suddenly snapped you out of your thoughts. He stepped out of the master bathroom, buttoning up his shirt as he walked. You quickly hid the pregnancy tests under your thigh while his all-knowing blue eyes weren’t on you.

“Ready for what?” You said nervously.

“Don’t tell me the same person who rambled on and on about wanting to go to the festival already forgot about it,” Satoru glanced at you briefly. He approached your dresser, grabbing his blacked-out sunglasses. “The kids are waiting. I don’t think Yuji’ll be too happy if he misses the lantern show. And you and I need to do that thing where we share a churro and kiss at the end-”

“Okay, okay, I’m almost ready.”

Despite your words, you hadn’t yet risen from your spot on the edge of the bed.

Satoru turned to face you. He frowned with concern. “You alright?”

The truth was that you weren’t ready to tell Satoru that, soon, there would be another addition to the Gojo household. Your hesitation was odd. This was something you both wanted, and yet . . .

And yet, the news, while delightful, was also worrisome, as the Gojo household was currently experiencing its fair share of troubles within the past couple of months — and you weren’t quite sure what adding a newborn baby to the mix would do.

Stressful times tended to occur when over half of the beloved household fought curses and curse users, both of which were more active during the summer season.

Satoru was occasionally away on important trips to other countries and continents. Your adopted teenagers, Megumi and Yuji, — who had been part of your family officially for a solid year now — were often injured in battle. Meanwhile, Maya, your biological daughter, was arriving closer and closer to starting elementary school.

Your little girl learning all sorts of things about math, animals, and books that were longer than ten, twenty pages was a beautiful sight to see.

She was no longer a toddler, but rather, a child now, and was learning all sorts of things such as numbers that went beyond ten, beyond twenty, and even beyond fifty. There were animals — insanely cool ones, more exciting than the cows and sheep she learned about in preschool — who lived in either the forests or the sea!

There were moments of tragedy of course, such as the day she learned that her dear parents, her beloved mom and dad, were not named Mom and Dad.

Oh, the poor girl cried and sobbed, her chubby cheeks puffy and wet with tears, all while Satoru held her and softly explained to her that he would always be her daddy, she would always address him as so, but in truth, his name was Satoru Gojo.

And your name was not simply Mom or Mommy.

What a troubling day.

But that part was fine. Everything from giggling while you or her dad marked her height by using a pencil to draw a line above her head on her doorframe, enthusiastically saying, “you’re getting so big now!” to learning to sing and dance along to classic Barbie films, to crying her eyes out when she fell down during a game of tag with her friends were all parts of getting older, and it was fine.

Her having to go days or weeks at a time without seeing her dad was not.

Having to soothe her worries and fears whenever Yuji and Megumi returned home from missions with new scars and scratches decorating their skin was not.

And, worst of all, her becoming aware of her own cursed energy and being able to see those terrifying creatures was not.

A few weeks ago, after Maya saw her very first curse across the street while going down a slide at a playground, Satoru had to sit his daughter down and explain everything to her. It was a task that broke his heart.

Afterwards, he crawled into bed with you, sighing heavily.

“She was just learning about the alphabet around what, one, two, three years ago?” Satoru exhaustedly rested his head on your lap, staring up at you with sad, blue eyes. “God, I can’t keep up. She’s growing up so fast. And now she’s seeing curses. I knew this day would come, but now her childhood will never be the same.”

You turned on the lamp on your nightstand with a light tap at the base of it. With your other hand, you gently stroked the spot between Satoru’s furrowed brows with your thumb as his long legs stretched out across your enormous bed.

“We just have to teach her not to be afraid of them. Just as we explained what curses are, we have to explain to her who she is.”

The daughter of the world’s strongest sorcerer, she was.

“I thought I was ready for this. Looking after Megumi when he was a kid, learning about his power, and trying to protect him from that sick Zenin clan . . . thought that experience would prepare me for this. I thought I was ready, but I’m not. Now we have to teach our muffin and protect her from the jujutsu society as a whole.”

“Tell me about it,” you frowned. “I get at least ten emails daily from the higher-ups, all of them wondering if she’s ready to start training. She’s five years old. I told them all to go to hell.”

Satoru laughed softly, then he yawned before he started to speak again.

“I’m sure she’ll want to become a sorcerer, but if she does, I want it to be her decision. I don’t want her to feel pressured to follow in my footsteps, get what I mean?”

Your fingertips started to mess with the strands of Satoru’s white hair.

“I think the best choice would be to work with her, make sure she understands what curses are and what she can do, but also do everything we can to give her a normal life. I don’t care if she learns a cursed technique before she learns how to multiply, but no one will take her childhood away from her.”

With that, you and Satoru sealed off the end of your conversation with a kiss, but nothing more, as about five minutes later, gentle pitter-patter could be heard from the hallway as your daughter made her way to your room and hopped into your bed, snuggling right in between you and Satoru.

After seeing her first curse, she was much too scared to sleep alone.

Dealing with Maya’s current situation had your hands full. Along with all the additional chaos surrounding your entire family, you were also busy being the multitasking mother and wife everyone needed you to be. Keeping everyone fed, healthy, and happy was quite the challenge, especially when you could do very little to keep them safe in a world possessed by such evil — and they were the ones who had to fight against it. Not to mention the horrific fact that your son was quite literally possessed by the embodiment of evil — Sukuna.

Oh! And if that wasn’t enough, Satoru’s other students, old and new, often came to you for motherly love and affection they could never experience elsewhere. Though you welcomed everyone with open arms, you were tired.

Tired, and, apparently, pregnant.

—

“Alright, everyone ready? Everyone have their coats? Anyone have to pee before we hit the road?” Satoru, who stood before the double front doors of your home, scanned his watchful eyes over the bunch.

“The festival’s only fifteen to twenty minutes away,” Megumi said.

“And I bet Yuji’ll have to pee in ten.” Satoru darted his eyes across the dark-haired boy’s casual outfit, which amounted to a short-sleeved black shirt and a pair of grey jeans. “And you’re not wearing a coat.”

Suddenly, Satoru felt a tiny tug at the back of his pants leg. Turning around, he caught sight of Maya — just when did she get behind him?

With a smile, he reached down to ruffle the young girl’s hair, noting the nervous look on her face. After her first experience with a curse, it was quite rare for the young girl to not have eyes that glistened with pure fright.

“At least this one’s being so well behaved, aren’t you, muffin?” Satoru said sweetly.

“Can you pick me up?”

“Of course, sweet girl, hang on.” Satoru raised and turned his head to where Yuji was standing. “Yuji, did you-”

He cut himself off. There was nothing except an empty space where Yuji once stood. “Where’d he go?”

“Bathroom,” you mumbled.

“Right,” Satoru gave you a quick smile — he noticed your silence today. It was nice to hear your voice at all.

Looking at his other teenage son, or, rather, his uncovered arms, Satoru said, “Megumi, go get your coat.”

“But I’m not cold.”

“You can thank our new heated floors for that, but it’s cold outside, buddy, and you had a fever a couple days ago. I don’t want this bipolar weather making you sick again.”

“Cold weather itself doesn’t make someone sick, it’s actually-”

“I’m back!” Yuji’s sudden appearance interrupted Megumi.

“Daddy, pick me up! Pick me up!” Maya whined, tugging on Satoru while her small feet impatiently tapped against the floor; the new, heated one, which was part of the renovations made to your home last month. More chaos.

“Hold on, forgot to wash my hands. Be right back,” Yuji suddenly said, and vanished as quickly as he had arrived.

Satoru didn’t sigh with annoyance, didn’t let his face reflect even the slightest hint of frustration. Instead, he continued to grin, handling the chaos just as easily as he handled curses.

“Come here, I gotcha,” Satoru lifted Maya, holding her in his arms. “Ya know, daddy’s gonna have to put you down to drive, right?”

“No!”

Maya leaned her head against his shoulder. Satoru turned to face Megumi yet again, noticed his lack of a coat yet again, and said playfully, “Megumi, put on a coat or jacket or else I’ll ground you for twelve to fifteen years, kid.”

“Fine,” the teenager rolled his eyes before walking off.

Gently, Satoru gave his daughter’s chubby cheek a little pinch — she squealed from the ticklish feeling — and he then placed his large hand over the little ear that wasn’t leaning against his shoulder before he shouted, “anyone who isn’t in the car in the next three minutes is getting left behind!”

“I would’ve been in the car if you weren’t making me grab a coat,” Megumi called back.

“You’ll thank me when you’re not dying of pneumonia,” Satoru shouted, then mumbled under his breath, “again.”

And with that, you watched as, somehow, someway, Satoru effectively managed to get a moody teenager, a hyper one, a clingy child, and you, his oddly quiet wife, to the annual Night Lights Festival.

—

The lakeside festival was a crowded, yet beautiful display of festive red and yellow decorations and lanterns that brightened the night sky. Live musicians banged on drums or strung their instruments, playing upbeat tones. A parade of dancers passed by, and lively chatter surrounded you.

Around thirty minutes into the festival, Yuji’s face was decorated with face paint, neck adorned with beads and necklaces dancers tossed at him, blush-pink hair covered by an enormous red and yellow hat, and he held a bag of popcorn in one hand and his favorite soda in the other.

Megumi, on the other hand, wasn’t a fan of the large crowd and never-ending music. He did, however, notice a person doing magic tricks with their two enormous dogs, and he stopped to watch the show. Maya, who was previously sitting on her dad’s shoulders, eagerly climbed down, eager to watch the dog show as well.

And by then, Yuji had seen something exciting and ran off. Yet again.

That left you alone with Satoru. Your smiling husband took hold of your hand. Though you gave him a smile back, it didn’t reach your eyes, and he could tell.

Guiding you away from the flow of traffic and closer towards the red bridge that stretched over the beautiful lake with lights dancing above the water — where fewer people mingled, fortunately — Satoru said, “What’s the matter, baby? You’re awfully quiet.”

“Sorry,” you shrugged, unable to look him in the eye. Not while you were telling a lie. “I was just thinking about how well you handle our chaotic family.”

“You know me. Handling chaos is just what I do. I think part of me loves it, actually, considering we’re trying to add on a new member to the family.”

His words made your heart skip a beat. The topic of pregnancy and having another child was nearly a daily discussion between you and Satoru, that was a fact, but now, when your pregnancy test came back positive and you hadn’t yet found the nerve to tell him, hearing those words struck a chord of fear within you.

“I don’t know, honey. I thought that I could handle all this. Don’t get me wrong, please don’t get me wrong, but . . . Megumi and Yuji are at that age where fighting curses is the last thing they need to worry about. Being a teenager is rough enough as it is. Megumi’s attitude is-is just . . . and Yuji stinks sometimes no matter how often he bathes. He just stinks. And seeing them and their friends covered in wounds after a mission . . . it’s just too much. I can’t help but wonder if we’re mature enough to handle it. It’s not like we’re the same age as most parents who have teenagers. Remember what happened a couple of months ago when I treated Nobara, Yuji, and Megumi to the movies and a shopping spree? Two cashiers at two different places thought I was friends with all of them. Friends!

Then there’s Megumi’s depression. I’ve been researching therapists, specifically ones I trust who work with young sorcerers, but there’s only like, two. And I doubt I could get him to talk to someone anyway. Oh, and while I was doing the laundry the other day, I found a crumpled-up piece of paper with a phone number written on it in Yuji’s pocket. I’m thinking a girl gave it to him. That means it’s time to talk to the boys about dating and everything that comes with it, right? I mean, we pretty much raised Megumi long before we adopted him, so I-I know he’s . . . educated, but what about Yuji? Do we just assume that his grandpa taught him everything he needs to know about, well, everything? What if his grandpa taught him things that we’d disagree with morally? No . . . Yuji’s a sweet kid, I doubt that.

I don’t know, I’m just so overwhelmed. Then there’s Sukuna, and what the higher-ups want to do to Yuji because of Sukuna . . . is that why we adopted him? To give him a good life before he’s executed? Or did we truly think we could find a way out of this? Because I love him more and more with every passing day and . . . and don’t even get me started on everything going on with Maya right now.

I don’t just mean the curse thing, either. My friend Jane told me that she stopped carrying her son when he turned four. Maya’s five now, and it seems like she doesn’t ever want to be put down. I have no idea if that’s normal. She’s a sweetheart, and she’s always been a bit clingy and sensitive, but there are certain things that-that she hasn’t grown out of yet and with this curse bullshit, she’s even more dependent on us than what my research says a five year old should be. I bet you being away for weeks at a time is part of it. I know I cling to you like a koala to a tree when you come back home, and part of that is because I’m always so terrified of what might happen to you while you’re away. I love you too much. The idea of something happening to you kills me, Satoru.

I thought that I was this amazing person who could take care of everyone who stepped through our door, but here I am, freaking out while we’re just trying to enjoy a nice festival. Maybe I should just-”

“Momma! Dad! There you are!” Yuji suddenly returned, this time, with a tiny tray of lantern-shaped cookies and a bag of souvenirs. “C’mon, the lantern show’s about to start!”

The excitable teenager once again started to dash away, and you started to follow, when Satoru’s large hands suddenly grabbed onto your shoulders, halting your footsteps.

“Hey, hey, wait,” he said. His fingers found your chin, turning your head in his direction. He planted a kiss that held all the gentle love he felt for you right on your lips. “I hear you, sweetheart. We’ll talk about it later, alright?”

“You say that as if we can ever have a moment of peace and quiet, but thanks for listening.” You gave him a sad smile, and he kissed you yet again.

The night ended with you and Satoru holding onto a beautiful lantern and releasing it together into the starry night sky. Watching your lantern join the countless other ones in the sky as you leaned against your husband’s chest was a temporary moment of relief from the chaos.

MEGUMI’S STORY — DAY FOUR

It happened.

The breaking point.

The final straw.

Reaching the limit — whatever it was, it happened.

Megumi told you something the day after the Night Lights Festival. Something that he now regretted as he slipped on his black hoodie.

“Megumi, let’s go!” You shouted from the foyer.

As you waited for him, your eyes darted up at Satoru, who was adjusting the hood on your head. It was a rainy, gloomy day, after all. Oh, a gloomy day it was.

“Hey, it’ll be alright. I know it. And I know you’re busy, but when you have the time, we should talk. We never finished our conversation from the other day. The one we were having at the festival,” Satoru said.

“Right, well,” you paused, hearing Megumi’s quiet footsteps approaching. “It’ll have to wait.”

“Let’s go,” you said to Megumi, all the while trying — trying — to ignore the pained look of betrayal in his eyes.

—

The car ride was a long, quiet one.

The atmosphere was tense. Odd. Heartbreaking. Therefore, you clenched the steering wheel and made the tough decision to speak to the boy in the passenger seat.

“Megumi? After your session, I was thinking we could stop by a bookstore, see what’s new in the nonfiction section. Get some black coffee, pick up some ginger chicken, whatever you want.”

“Sure.”

“And don’t worry. The first session is usually nothing more than you and the therapist getting to know each other. And the psychiatrist will mainly just ask you a bunch of questions. It’ll be fine. You’ll see.”

“Alright.”

You slowed to a stop at a red light. A sigh escaped from you.

“I know you don’t wanna go, but we’re doing this ‘cause we care about you. We’re worried about you.”

Megumi turned his gaze away from the raindrops on the car window. A therapist. A psychiatrist. A collaborative care plan.

“You think there’s something wrong with me.”

“No, not at all!” You looked at him, your eyebrows pinched. “You’ve gone through a lot, and there’s nothing wrong with needing some help. Everyone needs it at some point.”

“I haven’t gone through anything Yuji hasn’t, and I don’t see him in the car.”

You were silent for a moment. Nothing could be heard except for the raindrops splattering against the roof of the car. The traffic light changed colors.

“When will this competition end? Comparing yourself to your brother?” You paused. “You’re both very different people with very different needs, and-”

“And you think there’s something wrong with me.”

There wasn't that familiar attitude in Megumi’s voice. There was pain. But, heartbreakingly, that pain was a familiar tone as well.

You wanted to look at him, grab his shoulders, and shake some sense into him, do something. Anything. But you could only crank up your windshield wiper and make a left turn.

“You were getting better, Megumi. I saw it. But now? Now it feels like you’re moving backwards. You and I have started to bond, haven’t we? We��d spend quality time together, even if it was just the two of us washing dishes. You even called me mom once. You came to me the other night for comfort and advice, and now I-I feel like you’re just . . . slipping away and I won’t just sit back and let it happen. Please stop pulling away from us, okay? I’m here for you. Your family is here for you.”

“I told you the truth the other day, and look where it’s gotten me. You think I’m fragile. Like I’m weak and I’m gonna break. And now you’re dragging me to meet a therapist and psychiatrist. Being honest with you has only backfired, so . . . I think it’s best if I pull away.”

“What do you expect me to do when my son, my son, looks me in the eyes one night and tells me he doesn’t see the point in living anymore? Do you just-just expect me to, what, sit back and do nothing as I watch you continue to skip meals again? Stay curled up in bed? Hear from your friends over and over again that you were careless with your own life in battle?” You slowed down as you drove; you could barely see, not only because of the heavy rain, but also the tears brimming within your waterline. “This is what it means to be loved by a family, Megumi. I know you didn’t ask for this, and you can hate me and your dad all you want, but I suggest you get used to it, because I’m not giving up on you. None of us are. You understand me? Do you understand me?”

Megumi’s gaze returned to the raindrops on the window. His hands were starting to tremble — he wanted to cry. He didn’t answer you, not now, because he didn’t understand.

He thought he did once. He thought he wrapped his mind around familial love and understood that he was loved and cared for — and he still does. Part of him, the logical side, knows he’s loved and cared for, but maybe, just maybe, that was part of the problem.

He got sick easily. Got injured easily. Didn’t like very many things. Turned away from affection. Was a picky eater — it made him feel like a burden to his family, who he knew loved him and went out of his way to make him comfortable, be it you preparing ginger chicken over a bed of rice while everyone else dined on honey-garlic glazed salmon, or giving up loud family movie nights to play quiet board games with him occasionally.

But right now? It didn’t matter to him whether he understood the concept of familial love or not. He trusted you with something, and this betrayal? He couldn’t understand it.

But right now? When his spirit was crushed and he dreaded every sunrise that marked another day of living? When you parked in front of the beige office building and took him inside for his very first session?

He could understand one thing: his desire to have never been born.

YUJI’S STORY — DAY FIVE

It was warm today. The rapidly changing weather switched back and forth between hot and sunny or cold and rainy as if it couldn’t decide which of the four seasons it wanted to mimic, nevermind what season it actually was.

And, damn it all, Satoru took advantage of temporary warm weather by standing over his smoking outdoor grill, but not because he craved warmth and anything that reminded him of peaceful summer days, but because one of Yuji’s favorite foods happened to be Satoru’s grilled burgers, and Yuji was having a bad day today.

With one hand, Satoru flipped the burgers over with a spatula. They still needed quite a bit of cooking. With the other hand, he raised his blacked-out sunglasses, gazing at the back of his house.

It had been a while since he last checked on the moping boy. His other moping boy, Megumi, was fast asleep after Satoru coaxed him into eating by bringing a food tray to his room that held an apple he sliced, a basic sandwich — Megumi didn’t like too many toppings — and his new antidepressants.

A short distance away, Maya was plopped down in her sandbox, digging around with a colorful, tiny shovel.

“Muffin?” Satoru called out. When the young girl looked at him and tilted her head a bit, he asked, “Want a juice box, sweet girl?”

She eagerly hopped to her feet, took a moment to shake off as much sand as she could, singing under her breath, “shake, shake, shake, shake off the sand . . . shake, shake, shake, shake off the sand.”

Afterwards, Maya and Satoru stepped through the back door. Once he sat the young girl down at the nook table in the corner of the gourmet kitchen, gave her a juice box and told her to stay put — only after putting his lips on the skin of her arm and blowing a raspberry to make her giggle, of course — he then headed upstairs to go check on Yuji.

—

“I wanna kill that annoying punk you call your father first.”

It was Sukuna’s rotten voice. Yuji was digging through the drawer of clothes in his spacious bedroom when the king of curses manifested himself on the side of Yuji’s face.

“Shut up,” Yuji mumbled.

“Who would be fun to kill next? Let me think . . . that pretty mother of yours? Your little sister? That little girl’s becoming sensitive to cursed energy now, right? Does your family know she won’t come near you anymore, ‘cause she can sense me? The evil inside of you? We made her cry and run away the other day. Remember that?”

“Shut up. Just shut up already.”

“You think these people really trust you as a vessel to keep me in check, huh? I bet they’re hoping you die and take me with you-”

“Shut up, shut up, shut up-”

“How do you think it’d feel, brat? Your own body being used to kill the useless humans you call your family? Your face being the last face they see as they die a slow, painful death?”

“Shut the hell up!”

He was shouting — he didn’t realize it, not until the silence that ringed afterward made him realize just how loud he had been.

Yuji heard two knocks at his door. When he failed to respond, whoever seeked entry twisted the knob and opened it.

“Yuji?”

“Sorry, I’m fine.” Yuji glanced at Satoru standing in his doorway. With a bundle of clothes in his hand, Yuji paused, watching his dad glance over the top of his sunglasses, his all-seeing eyes scanning Yuji from top to bottom. “Stop it.”

“He’s bothering you again, huh? Wanna talk about it?” Satoru stepped into his bedroom.

Yuji shook his head, mumbling an inaudible, “no.” He tossed the clothes in his hands on his bed — they fell with a soft plop — and suddenly, the tears started to fall.

He couldn’t help it by then. The teenager found himself turning around and wrapping his arms around Satoru, who didn’t waste a second before hugging him back.

“It’s okay, kid. It’s okay,” Satoru said soothingly, rubbing his back.

“Most days, I can ignore him pretty easily and not let his words get to me, but . . .”

“But ever since he scared Maya, you can’t help but listen to him.”

Yuji gasped.

It was the secret he had been keeping since it happened.

“You knew about it?” Yuji pulled away from Satoru, staring at him with wide eyes.

“Not ‘til now. I was listening at the door,” Satoru said.

“You say he scared Maya, but don’t you mean me? It’s ‘cause of Sukuna, yeah, but it's not like he was taking over my body when she got scared. It was just . . . me. It’s his fault, but it’s still me. Does that make any sense?” Yuji looked down at the floor. “Megumi’s always been her favorite sibling, and I get it, she’s known him her whole life and stuff, but . . . not only am I her least favorite member of the family, but now she’s downright scared of me. Do you think that means I should live on campus for a while? It’s not fair for Maya to be scared of someone in her own home. She’s your biological kid, so she comes first. I’m just the one you adopted last year-”

“And you’re just as much a member of this family as she is.” Satoru interrupted Yuji with a stern tone he wasn’t used to. “Just give it time, Yuji. Your mom and I are working on a way to get her used to . . . all this. And in the meantime, don’t let Sukuna get to you. I know that’s easier said than done, but just you wait. I’m gonna find some sorta loophole where I can kill him for good, and still keep you alive and well. I don’t care how long it takes.”

“You’re pretty optimistic.”

“Well, you’re my boy, Yuji. I’ll be damned if you don’t become old and gray someday.”

Yuji gave Satoru another hug, but this time, instead of tears, it was with a soft smile. Though his heart hadn’t fully accepted Satoru’s words, nor had his mind accepted that he had a right to stay home, he couldn’t help but giggle when his dad called him that affectionate term.

“Damn right I’m your boy!” Yuji exclaimed.

“Hey, watch your mouth.”

“Sorry. Can we play baseball together soon?”

MAYA’S STORY — DAY SIX

It was somewhere between noon and evening, the big house a warming shade of yellow and orange from the setting sun peeking in through the open windows, and Maya crept down the hallways with her doll clenched tightly against her chest.

Sneaking around her home wasn’t fun — not nearly as fun as the show the The Backyardigans made sneaking seem to be in the episode she watched with dad last week. Secret agents, they were.

She tried singing the little Secret Agent song in her head, tried to pretend that she was on some fun, grand adventure, but in truth, she was scared.

She was coming out of her bedroom when she heard footsteps in the hallway, and she felt it. That . . . that energy. That spirit.

Everyone in her family had that same energy, she could feel it, but unlike her dad or Megumi, this energy wasn’t friendly. It was as scary as the big monsters she swore lived under her bed when she was younger — and though dad held her tight and told her he kicked all the monsters out and scared them away, that wasn’t true. Because sometimes, she still saw monsters! Like the one she saw at the park the other day! And she swore — she swore — her big brother was one of them. He was the one with the unfriendly energy.

A little while ago, she ran up to Yuji, eager to share her grapes with him, and that was the first time she felt it. She ran away crying, shrieking away from him when he tried to follow her and ask her what was wrong. Ever since then, she would only go near him if others were around. It broke her little heart. She loved Yuji! So why, just why, did he have to turn out to be one of those scary monsters?

Maya peeked her head around the corner of her door frame and saw Yuji, who was opening a hallway closet.

“Umbrella, umbrella, umbrella. Where is it?” He mumbled to himself in a bored tone, searching the shelves for, apparently, an umbrella.

Why was he here right now, of all places? He wouldn’t move either, which meant . . . she would have to walk past him to reach the bathroom.

She wanted to cry. Where was Dad? He’d hold her, and together, they could make it past that scary monster.

Maya turned in the opposite direction of the bathroom, dashing away as quickly and quietly as she could, not wanting to draw his attention. Her heart was pounding. She then made a quick turn into what was the upstairs gameroom, and there you were! You were fluffing one of the pillows on the couch when you turned your head, smiling at the sight of your daughter running towards you, but your smile quickly vanished as the corners of your lips pointed downward, your brows furrowed.

“What’s wrong, honey?” You asked.

“I have to pee-pee and there’s a monster in the hallway!”

Your frown deepened in pure confusion.

You knew quite well there wasn’t a monster in the hallway, but before you could question the young girl, she was reaching up, grabbing hold of your hand with her little one — the one that wasn’t holding her doll — and she pulled you along.

There was no one in the hallway except Yuji.

You figured that, perhaps, there was some sort of weird decoration in the hallway that scared her, but when you glanced down, you saw her wide, fear-filled eyes were locked on Yuji.

“Maya, what’s the matter?” You questioned. “Mommy doesn’t understand what you’re scared of.”

You weren’t exactly whispering like Maya hoped you would, and your words caught Yuji’s attention. He turned away from the hideous ponchos in his hands, looking in your direction with a small, “hm?” when, all of a sudden, Maya dropped your hand, raising a trembling finger as she pointed at her brother.

“Monster,” she cried out.

A shocked gasp escaped your lips. You never would have expected your sweet girl to call someone such a thing, let alone her brother. “Now Maya, that is not nice. We don’t call people things that we wouldn’t want them to call us. You owe your brother an apology.”

Yuji shut the door of the hallway closet, locking eyes with his sister. Maya shrieked, dropping her doll.

“Mommy!” She grabbed, pulled, and yanked at your shirt and pants, practically trying to climb up your body and jump into your arms.

Tears fell from her eyes as she cried, “Make him go away! Make him go away!”

No parenting book had prepared you for this, whatever this was.

The terrified girl’s nails were digging into your flesh; you had no choice but to pick her up.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” you said soothingly, but the fright in your voice was crystal clear.

You gave Yuji a look of panicked confusion, one that begged for answers to the obvious question, but when you looked at him — even from the distance between you both — you could see the tears streaming down his face.

“Make him go away, mommy! Make him go away!” Maya cried.

Yuji sniffled, wiping his tears off on his sleeves before turning away.

“Wait, Yuji- Maya, it’s okay, I don’t . . .”

Suddenly, with Megumi following, Satoru was making his way up the stairs before Yuji could descend them, forcing the crying sorcerer to stay put.

Yuji tried his hardest to weave around Satoru, but Satoru gripped his shoulders.

“Aht, aht, aht, you’re not going anywhere.”

“But I’m scaring her!”

“Yuji, will you please tell me what’s going on?” You cradled your sobbing daughter’s head.

“Here, Megumi,” Yuji reached around Satoru, tossing Megumi two mustard-yellow ponchos he found.

Megumi caught it and started to descend the steps without another word.

Satoru frowned.

“You two mind telling me why you need ponchos when there isn’t a cloud in the sky?”

There was no answer. Megumi continued to walk down the steps, Maya continued to sob, and Yuji continued to wipe his streaming tears, his path blocked by Satoru.

“I asked you two a question. Yuji, your mother asked you a question.”

“We’re packing our bags and leaving. We can’t stay here.”

It was Megumi who stopped walking and answered.

You could handle quite a bit, but this? This was what finally made the tears fall.

When that very first sniffle interrupted the silence, your entire family turned to face you.

It was too much. Everything. Every bit of it.

With Maya in your arms — her little tantrum had dwindled to silent sobs now — you left the hallway, stepping into the closest room you could find.

Satoru was a man who could walk through Hell with a grin on his face. He was an easygoing person, one who could tolerate everything from strong curses, the attitudes of teenagers — perhaps his own occasional lack of maturity helped him out with that — but, the one thing he could not simply grin and bear?

Seeing his wife upset.

Satoru slowly turned his head between Megumi and Yuji, looking at their guilt-ridden faces. He clenched his jaw.

“You two. Living room. Now. I’m not messing around, and don’t you dare talk back to me.”

Satoru moved past Yuji, and the boy swore he could feel the anger radiating off of him like heat.

The pissed-off man watched his sons drag their feet into the living room, Megumi’s hands fidgeting with the sleeves of his black sweatshirt while Yuji had his head down, messy hair unusually flat like he was a kicked puppy, and Satoru then stepped into the room you occupied with Maya.

You were sitting on the ottoman in front of the bed. Kneeling in front of you, Satoru looked at you with all the softness he held for you in his overwhelmed heart, and he stroked your tears away with his thumb.

“Don’t cry, don’t cry.” He leaned forward and kissed your cheek. He then repeated the same act of love with Maya. “Both of my sweet girls are crying. You’re killing me.”

“I’m sorry.” You mumbled, taking a deep breath as if to soothe yourself. “It’s just been a long, long week. I don’t wanna make them feel guilty for how they feel by crying in front of them, I swear I don’t, but . . . I think hearing them say that was my final straw.”

Satoru rose to his feet. He scooped Maya out of your arms, and said, “Come to the living room. We all need to work it out.”

The living room was softly lit by two lamps. From one of the couches where Megumi and Yuji sat, Yuji wiped away one of his own tears, then gently knocked his knee against Megumi’s.

“You okay?” Yuji asked.

Megumi didn’t answer for a while, his eyes glued on the living room floor.

“No.” Megumi’s voice was soft. “Are you?”

“No.”

Megumi and Yuji gave each other a sympathetic smile. Just then, they heard the sound of footsteps descending the stairs. You came down, following Satoru — who held Maya — and you all found yourself grabbing a spot on one of the couches.

Satoru started to speak to the young girl holding on to him.

“Muffin, look at Yuji.”

Maya looked up at Satoru with precious eyes filled with uncertainty.

“Don’t be scared. It’s okay. Just look at him.”

She was hesitant, found herself clenching Satoru’s shirt even tighter, but . . . but eventually, she turned her head and looked at her older brother, who bounced his leg out of pure nervousness and old habit, his face a mess of falling — and seemingly never-ending — tears.

“You see that?” Satoru pointed. “He’s crying. Do you know why he’s crying?”

Maya looked up at her dad, shaking her head with a small pout.

“He’s crying because you’re hurting his feelings, muffin. Calling him a monster and running away from him is making him sad, so sad that he wants to run away from home. If he does that, it’ll make all of us sad as well. You’re the sweetest girl I know, and I know for a fact my sweet girl doesn’t wanna make anyone sad, right?” Maya blinked at him, and Satoru continued. “Yuji isn’t like that monster you saw at the park. Your brother is actually this super-duper strong, super-duper awesome, super-duper great person who’s keeping a monster at bay, so the monster can’t hurt anyone someday. He’s a hero, one who puts himself in harm's way to try and protect other people, and he loves you very, very much. Isn’t that cool? To have a brother who’s that brave, kind, and strong?”

Maya tilted her head to the side, the gears in her brain turning, and she nodded slowly.

When you started to speak, Maya looked over at you.

“You have a family of people who fight those scary monsters you’ve seen all the time. In fact, your dad is the strongest monster-fighter in the whole world. None of them can lay a hand on him because of how strong he is. And guess what?”

“What?” Maya squeaked out.

“You’re his daughter, so that really strong monster-fighter strength has been passed on to you,” you smiled. “Nothing bad will happen to you, honey. Everyone in this family will make sure of it; me, your dad, Megumi, and Yuji, who I think could really use an apology from you right now.”

Maya, albeit hesitant, hopped off her dad’s lap. She wiped the tears off her chubby cheeks and glanced back at Satoru.

“Go on, it’s okay,” he nodded.

In a way, it was quite hilarious. The person she feared was nothing more than a sulking boy with teary, light brown eyes, and a sad frown. Kicked puppy.

Maya stood in front of her brother. She didn’t fully understand what you and her dad were trying to say, but she knew a few things for certain:

No one else seemed scared of Yuji.

Dad said Yuji wasn’t a monster; he fought monsters.

That evil energy wasn’t the only energy she felt from him, there was something else there. Something kind and warm.

She loved Yuji, and she didn’t like making him feel sad.

“I’m really, really, really sorry,” Maya mumbled.

“It’s okay, Maya Papaya,” Yuji smiled softly.

“You’re like Barbie!”

Oh, her famous compliment. Yuji’s grin widened in amused bewilderment, though he didn’t fully understand what about him could have reminded her of Barbie.

“Oh yeah? I don’t know, I think she’s way cooler than I am,” Yuji reached forward slowly in case his little sister was still hesitant to trust him, and when she didn’t back away, he ruffled her hair. Maya responded to that by stepping closer with her arms out. As Yuji happily leaned down to hug her, god, it felt as if his heart melted and was being glued back together all at once.

A moment after the hug ended, Satoru spoke up. “Muffin, why don’t you go play with dolls, hm? I know my big girl can play all by herself, right?”

“Uh huh! I can go do that!”

Everyone listened to the pitter-patter of Maya’s footsteps. Once the conclusion was drawn that she was in her room, you and Satoru glanced at the boy on the other couch who was playing with the sleeves of his black sweatshirt.

“My turn, right?” Megumi mumbled.

“You’re not in trouble. Neither one of you are. It’s just that, at the first sign of chaos, you two wanna hit the door. You both need to understand that no matter what happens, no matter what you do or how you feel, those beds upstairs are yours. We’ll work through any situation no matter what it is because you’re our children. Your dad and I will chase you down and drag you both back home if we have to, but please don’t make us have to.” You paused. “Megumi, do you truly hate the idea of getting help so much that you’d rather stop living here with us? Are you that angry with me?”

“It isn’t like that. I just feel like a . . . burden again.” He couldn’t look you in the eye. “But I’m not angry, I’m just hurt. It feels like a betrayal.”

“What did . . .” Your voice was wobbly. You used every bit of your strength to hold back your own tears. “When you told me how you were feeling, what did you think would happen? What did you want to happen? Did you think I wouldn’t do something?”

“I knew you would, I just . . . I wanted to talk to you, not a therapist.”

“Me?” You blinked.

“Well, you’re my mother, aren’t you?”

Oh.

Oh, you were certain you misheard him. Your wide eyes found Satoru’s, and your husband gave you a knowing grin.

“I heard it, baby. He said it.” Satoru said.

“I’m gonna cry again,” you wiped at the tears threatening to stream down your face; it was crystal clear during this moment who Maya got her sensitive side from. “Can I hug you? If not, that’s okay.”

Megumi looked up at you. He thought about it for a moment, then with a whisper of a smile, he said, “Yeah, sure.”

You made your way over to where he sat, and he stood up. You wrapped your arms around him, taking extra care not to hug him too long or squeeze him too tightly.

When you pulled away, you said. “I still think you should give your current treatment plan a proper try, but you can always come to me, Megumi. Always, always, always.”

After you released him, you then walked over to Yuji, your arms open, and he grinned widely, hoping to his feet to hug you.

“I owe you an apology, Yuji.”

“Huh? For what?” He pulled away, tilting his head a little.

“For neglecting your needs. You should give therapy a try as well. I didn’t think it was necessary at first, seeing as you were always smiling and laughing no matter what, but after everything you’ve been through, you need it as well. I’m sorry for not considering it sooner.”

“Oh, well . . . okay, I guess.”

“I think someone else needs therapy.”

The interjection came from Satoru. Turning around, you raised an eyebrow at him. “You mean Maya? Because a child therapist doesn’t sound like a bad idea.”

“I was talking about you, but honestly, let’s get the whole family in there,” Satoru motioned you over, and your lips fell into a little frown. “What’s that look for? Aren’t you always saying everyone needs someone to talk to at some point?”

“That’s true,” you said. You walked over to Satoru and claimed the spot next to him on the couch, and he wrapped his arms around you. “I think I could use a massage, or maybe a vacation as well.”

“I’m on it,” Satoru smiled down at you. Then, as he looked back at his teenage boys, he said, “So now, on to dating . . .”

SATORU’S STORY — DAY SIX

The conversation with your boys lasted well into the evening until the orange rays of the setting sun kissed the sky goodbye, and the bright moon appeared along with the stars.

But not every bit of chaos had been resolved just yet. There was something else, something lingering in the back of Satoru’s mind, and that was why instead of showering together before winding down for your nightly routine of soft chatter, massages, and watching an episode of two of your favorite show together, you and Satoru found yourselves strolling through the Night Lights Festival once again.

“Satoru, we’ve all had a long day. Why’d you bring me here?” You asked, looking up at the side of his face, your fingers intertwined.

“Because I wanna spend time with the person I’m in love with, obviously. You’re the love of my life, my amazing wife,” he turned his head, smiling down at you. “Look, I’m even rhyming now like a lovesick poet.”

“But why are we at the festival again? After the day we’ve had, our bed was calling my name. I was hoping we were gonna cuddle up and watch our show together, or anything that involves lying in bed . . . Please don’t make a dirty joke.”

Satoru shot you an amused grin.

He guided you towards a food vendor that smelled of heavenly sugar. After ordering one chocolate-filled churro, he turned around to face you as he waited.

“Well, you and I never get any alone time nowadays, and we really needed to talk. I figured, why not do it here? The festival only comes once a year anyway. I wanna do our little churro tradition as many times as possible.”

“Why do we need to talk? You’re not divorcing me, are you?”

“Never. You’re stuck with me in every lifetime. I really believe it, ya know. I had a dream once where we both died and-”

“Here you go. Enjoy the festival.” The friendly vendor owner unintentionally interrupted Satoru, a churro in hand.

Satoru took it with thanks. You two continued strolling until he found an outdoor bench close to the lantern-lit lake and bridge.

“What was I saying?” He asked, sitting down.

As he took the first bite of the churro before passing it to you, you said, “Listen, if this is about my rant the other day, I really don’t feel the need to continue that conversation. Talking with everyone today helped some.”

“There’s more to it.” Satoru’s tone was serious at first. The lanterns nearby illuminated his expressionless face. Strands of his white hair shifted as he nodded down at the churro in your hand. “Come on, bite the churro.”

You did so. A beat of silence passed between you both. You handed him the churro; his turn to take a bite.

“I’m waiting,” he said, taking the sweet treat.

“For?”

“For you to tell me whatever it is you need to tell me. And for you to tell me why you haven’t told me until I brought up that there’s something you need to tell me.”

You blinked at him. He was right, after all. You were keeping something from him, and of course, he’d recognize the signs of secrecy. But you wanted to hold on to the secret news of your pregnancy a little longer.

“Really? You know me better than I know myself.” You avoided looking at him as he gave you the churro. Your bite was nothing more than a hesitant nibble. “Do you honestly think I’d keep secrets from you?”

“Then why won’t you tell me you’re pregnant, baby?”

Your limbs froze. Your heart skipped a beat, and though he spoke sweetly, kindly, you were still as stiff as a statue.

“Look at me,” he softly demanded, hooking his fingers around his blindfold and pulling it down, letting it dangle around his neck.

You glanced up at him, almost feeling like a shy child getting scolded.

“I . . .” Whatever excuse you wanted to give died in your throat. “How’d you figure it out?”

“Really needa ask?”

“Your eyes.” You mumbled. Duh. Of course. Of course, you couldn’t keep something like this from the Satoru Gojo.

“I would’ve pieced it together either way, ‘cause you’re right, I do know you better than you know yourself.” Satoru smiled for a moment, but then it vanished quickly. It was his turn to take a sad bite of the churro. Those bright blue eyes glistened with a sliver of hurt. “Why didn’t you tell me? I’ve been waiting.”

“I’m sorry, I just didn’t know when or how. With everything going on, I feel like everyone will freak out at the idea of adding a baby to the mix. Especially considering our boys are ready to pack their bags and run away when they spill a cup of water. I didn’t want them to feel like us having another child would mean we no longer wanted them around. Hey, we’re having more biological children, so we don’t need the adopted ones, hit the road! ya know? I read somewhere that adopted kids and teens sometimes feel like that’s what’ll happen, or they feel like they’ll always come last to the biological children. And that’s only part of the reason why me being pregnant right now isn’t a good idea. I don’t know why we thought we would be able to handle another kid at a time like this.”

“Two kids.”

“Huh?”

“We’re having twins.” Satoru leaned forward, resting his elbows on the outdoor bench. “I can pick up on things earlier than an ultrasound can. And . . .” Satoru's eyes darted down to your stomach. “Yeah. I’m looking at two individual cursed energies.”

You couldn’t help but gasp. Twins? Was he being serious? Was this real?

“Oh my god. Satoru I . . . I mean, thank goodness we have a big ass house, right?” You gave a hollow laugh. One out of pure shock. “H-How do you feel about all this? I can’t tell.”

Satoru reached down into the pocket of his black jacket. He pulled out his phone, let the brightness on the screen illuminate his face, and opened the messaging app. Your husband then handed his phone to you. What stared back at you was a messaging thread with Kento.

Satoru spammed the poor man with multiple text messages, some short, incoherent, and incomplete, some using all caps, others long and decorated with emojis, but every message expressed his pure excitement. The last thing you saw before handing his phone back to him was a selfie he sent of himself crying tears of joy.

“Not only did I cry, but I went on a two-hour run to release some built-up excitement. I think it’s safe to say I’m beyond thrilled. I just wanted to wait for you to figure out, because I thought you were gonna be excited to tell me, and I didn’t wanna ruin the surprise, but then I realized that you knew, and I could see how stressed out you were. You were going through tea like a teaholic, didn’t finish your crepes, and the last time I gave you a massage, you were so tense, it was like I was rubbing down a rock.” You took a bite of the churro. Satoru continued speaking. “You know I’m always gonna be here for you, right? There isn’t any part of this that you’ll have to go through alone. Even when I’m away, I will always be coming right back to you. We will figure it out, baby. Every bit of it. I wish I could be the pregnant one, not you, just so I can take some stress away from you.”

“And now you’ve made it weird,” you laughed — a genuine one this time — and watched as Satoru shrugged and took a bite of the churro you handed him.

“As weird as you are,” you paused, the churro now in your hands. “I’m glad you’re in my life. Who knows? Maybe preparing for two new members of the family could be the bonding time this family needs. Not sure.”

“Look at you being optimistic, I love it.”

You took the last bite, playfully rolling your eyes at him, but your fake attitude fooled no one. You were crazy in love with that handsome man across the table.

“Okay, c’mere, time for you to kiss me. The person who takes the last bite has to give the first kiss. Don’t tell me you forgot,” Satoru said. Though he told you to come to him, he was the one who rose from his seat and made his way over to your side of the bench. He straddled the bench seat, facing your side, and placed his hands on your hips as if to coax you into facing him.

“Pretty sure you just made that up. And aren’t we, like, both supposed to take the last bite together, causing our lips to meet, then we kiss?”

“I think the two of us should only try that with pasta, honey. We did it during that pasta making class we went to. I think one of us would choke to death if we tried to do it with a chocolate-covered churro,” Satoru tugged on you a little tighter, his lips falling into a small pout. “You’re taking too long. Just kiss me already. You’re ruining the mom-”

You cut off your talkative husband with what he so eagerly wanted — a sweet kiss. Not only could you feel his soft lips against yours, but you could feel him fighting off a smile as he kissed you back with passion.

That smile fully formed once you both parted, your face inches apart. His bright eyes stared into yours in a way that made it hard for you to breathe, and he gently stroked your cheek.

“Satoru?”

“Hm?”

“I think all of this chaos has taught me that, even though it’s hard, I can handle a lot of things. But promise me that you will never stop looking at me the way you’re looking at me right now. If for any reason you stop looking at me with all of that love in your eyes, I think that’s what will finally break me. Just promise me we will never become one of those couples who fall out of love with one another but are still together out of convenience.”

“I’ve stared at you like this since the first day we met, April 8th, 2005. I thought I was the coolest guy on the planet, but around you? I was a nervous wreck who wouldn’t stop blushing and stuttering. I still look at you now the same way I did then, and I know I still will when we’re old and wrinkly, and you know it too. But I promise, if that’ll put your worried little mind at ease.” Satoru caught you by surprise with one last little peck against your lips. Then, the tall man stood and held his large hand out for you to take. “C’mon, let’s burn our fingers tossing lanterns into the sky again while trying to look like a cute couple.”

You laughed, letting your hand fall into his. You didn’t know it, but several festival goers caught glimpses of you and your husband together. They prayed to someday find a cherishable love just as precious.

♡ — What did you think? Let me know! Feedback is appreciated and encourages me to post more dad!gojo content!

♡ — @marvel-girl3 @goldenglow149 @luaqsv @sstoru @pinkfemdolly @satorusgummies @therealmrsgojo @leehriie @iminlovewqr0w @odessa-is-my-queen @melodycelos @stoneaf @dreamypirate @rac00ns-are-c00l4

[prokopetz]

With DND 5e being set up to cause DM burnout, can you give examples of tabletop systems that facilitate easy DMing? I love running a tabletop game but don't have the time to deal with 5e or homebrew anymore.

(With reference to this post here.)

This is an area where you're going to get a lot of bad advice, because there's no such thing as a tabletop RPG that's "easy to GM" in the abstract. Some systems make greater or lesser demands of the GM's time and skill, but the reason that Dungeons & Dragons has a massive GM burnout problem is a bit more subtle than that – indeed, D&D's GM burnout problem is considerably worse than that of many games whose procedures of play place much greater demands on the GM!

It boils down to the fact that games are opinionated. Even a very simple set of rules contains a vast number of baked-in assumptions about how the game ought to be played; in the case of tabletop RPGs, those baked-in assumptions include assumptions about what kinds of stories the game ought to be used to tell. The players of any given group, of course, also have assumptions – some explicit, many unexamined – about how the game's story ought to go. It's rare that these two sets of assumptions will perfectly agree.

Fortunately, perfect agreement isn't necessary, because tabletop RPGs aren't computer games, and it's always possible to tweak the outputs of the rules on the fly to better suit the desired narrative experience. In conventional one-GM-many-players games like D&D, this responsibility for monitoring and adjusting the outputs of the rules so that they're compatible with the narrative space the group wishes to explore falls principally on the GM.

Now, here's where the trouble starts: the larger the disconnect between the story the rules want to produce and the narrative space the group wants to explore, the more work the GM in a conventional one-GM-many-players context needs to do in order to close that gap. If the disconnect is large enough, the GM ends up spending practically all of their time babysitting the outputs of the rules, at the expense of literally every other facet of their responsibilities.

(Conversely, if that gap is large and isn't successfully closed, you can end up with a situation where engaging with the rules and engaging with the narrative become mutually exclusive activities. This is where we get daft ideas like "combat" and "roleplaying" being opposites – which is nonsense, of course, but it's persuasive nonsense if you've never experienced a game where the rules agree with you about what kind of story you should be telling.)

And here's where the problem with Dungeons & Dragons in particular arises. The rules of D&D aren't especially more opinionated than those of your average tabletop RPG; however, the game has developed a culture of play that's allergic to actually acknowledging this. There are several legs to this, including:

a text which makes claims about the game's supported modes of play that are far broader than what the rules in fact support;

a body of received wisdom about GMing best practices which consists mostly of advice on how to close the gap between the rules' assumptions and the players' expectations (but refuses to admit that this is what it's doing);

a player culture which has become increasingly hostile to players learning or knowing the rules, and positions any expectation that players should learn the rules as a form of "gatekeeping"; and

a propensity to treat a very high level of GMing skill as an entry-level expectation.

Taken together, all this produces a situation where, when the rules and the group disagree about how the game's story ought to go, the players don't experience it as a problem with the rules: they experience it as a problem with the GM. A lot of GMs even buy into this perception themselves, which is how you end up with GM advice forums overflowing with people telling novice GMs that they're morally bad people for being unprepared to tackle very advanced GMing challenges right from the jump.

(At this point, one may wonder: why on Earth would a game develop this sort of culture of play in the first place? Who benefits? Well, what we're looking at in practice is a culture of play which treats novice and casual GMs as a disposal resource whose purpose is to maximise the number of people playing Dungeons & Dragons. Follow the money!)

So, after all of that, the short answer is that there isn't a specific magic-bullet solution to avoiding D&D's GM burnout problem – or, at least, not one that operates at the level of the rules, because there's no particular thing that D&D as a system is doing "wrong" that produces this outcome; the problem operates almost entirely at the play culture level.

In practice, two things need to happen:

Placing a greater expectation on the players to learn and understand the game's rules; and

Selecting a system where the gap between the story the rules want to produce and the narrative space the group wants to explore is small.

It's that second one that's the real trick. In order to minimise that gap, we need to know what kind of narrative space your group wants to explore, and that might not be something you have a good answer to if you don't have good lines of communication with your players.

(As an aside, there's a good chance that we're going to see dipsticks cropping up in the notes insisting that their favourite system short-circuits this problem by being perfectly universal and having no baked-in narrative assumptions. These people are lying to you, and lending credence to the idea that there's any such thing as a universal RPG is a big part of how we got into this mess in the first place!)

[creatingblackcharacters]

“On Human Dignity.”  Blackness, Gender & Sexuality

Two things:

As usual, there’s historical and social context that I need explain! This lesson is not what sexuality is, or ‘how to write being gay while Black’. That’s… not that different from you. What this lesson is, is context on how Blackness plays a role in our presentation and understanding of gender and sexuality (as well as your perception of it), and how that’s something you should consider in your characterization, writing, and character design.

I DO NOT KNOW EVERYTHING! The reason this took so long was because I read multiple books and wallowed in my remaining lack of understanding. I cannot join The Tumblr Discourse so do not ask. I tried to be as inclusive as I could, but I learn something new on this app every day, so if I miss something- and I’m bound to- I apologize in advance. Please have grace with me.

TW: Sexual assault mention, homophobia, misogynoir, cannibalism, misgendering

“That’s that White People Shit"

I’m putting the hardest part first; walk with me, you’ll be fine!

I will be honest: this section here, while I do think you should know, I don’t really expect nonblack people to incorporate it in depth. Not because it cannot be done, but because it is a sensitive topic that we ourselves are still struggling with. If you have struggled with anything else while writing Black characters up to this point, this one certainly isn’t for you to touch. Just keep in mind!

There’s an idea I’ve heard before on both sides that Black people are more likely to be homophobic, that queerness itself is white. That is a ridiculous belief, but the root of it ends up right back where you think it would: slavery! I’m sure that you saw me post while I was reading The Delectable Negro by gay Black author Vincent Woodard. I shared those increasingly uncomfortable quotes on purpose! If you have a desire to understand Black culture and Black thought, that means being willing to acknowledge Black pain. How can you avoid stereotypes if you avoid learning their source?  

While I will be using quotes from the entire book, the specific chapter of “Eating Nat Turner” is a succinct explanation of why admitting to the presence of homosexuality, gender fluidity, and queer identity within the Black community is so difficult for my people. While I highly, HIGHLY recommend reading this chapter yourself, it essentially comes down to how admitting to such a potential vulnerability in the armor of Blackness, in gender identity and particularly Black masculinity, would allow white supremacy to destroy us as a people, to do validate doing even more cruel things to us when in a position of power over us. It’s a defensive reaction based in trauma that disregards and discards the queer members of our own community as a threat, a liability when it comes to fighting against the ubiquitous presence of white supremacy.

“Intuitively, Black gay men understood the issue of homosexuality during slavery as a complex phenomenon shaped by a number of factors, including the nation’s unresolved relationship to the legacy of slavery, Black liberatory ideology dating back to slavery, and, most importantly, the maintenance of traditional notions of family and community that originated in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. The legacy and memory of slavery had a powerful effect that left many Black gay men feeling isolated from and rendered invisible within Black communities.

Joseph Beam said it first and best: “I cannot go home as who I am. . . . When I speak of home, I mean not only the familial constellation from which I grew, but the entire Black community: the Black press, the Black church, Black academicians, the Black literati, and the Black left… I am most often rendered invisible, perceived as a threat to the family, or am tolerated if I am silent and inconspicuous.” … As Philip Brian Harper has noted, the Black homosexual functioned in the twentieth century as an index for Black masculine anxieties. These ranged from the very personal and painful anxieties of lynching, castration, and the denial of civil rights to a larger set of anxieties rooted in historical erasure and cultural genocide.”

“Sex and gender they also conflated with homosexuality, made out to equal effeminacy. Many Blacks linked homosexuality to castration and the recent history of Black men who had been lynched and Black women who had been raped in the Jim Crow South and in the North. Homosexuality, in its metaphoric power, had an exhaustive function: It is equated with the absence of family, hatred of Black people, estrangement from one’s kin and culture, and all of those horrific aspects of Black experience about which Black people would rather not speak.”

An example of why nonblack people should consider the depth of such a topic- and their place to do so- before incorporating it into their story comes in the form of Styron’s Confessions of Nat Turner, and the backlash he faced from the Black community for such a sensationalized story from a white author.

“The ten Black male contributors [who wrote Ten Black Writers Respond] coupled cannibalism (overtly and covertly) with homoeroticism and effeminacy. For these Black men, homoeroticism became a way of circumventing and projecting their experiences and pain onto certain “effeminate” Black men: the consumed Black man these Black men equated with the homosexual man. Homosexuality served as a means of containing certain unwieldy and historically difficult topics pertaining to Black masculinity, such as the need for intimacy, gender variance, sexual and emotional vulnerability, and violation. It was as if, in this very powerful and discursive moment, threads that had been all along winding through history wove together in a manner that illuminated the past as much as they clouded and blocked full access to its complicated meaning.”

“On the surface, at least, I do not disagree with these Black men and women. I think their analysis regarding historicity and the diminishment of Black communal ties was mostly correct. Styron’s novel was historically inaccurate, depicting Turner as raised by whites rather than the Black parents and grandmother Turner spoke about in his original “Confessions.” Styron depicts aspects of Turner’s sexual life that are not validated in any documentation coming from the time period, and Styron’s exhaustive probing into the racial hatred and self-hatred of Turner clearly reflected something in his own psyche and white identity that he felt compelled to project onto Turner. Black men were put on the defensive by both the novel and by the institutions (literary production, the media) and individuals who supported Styron as an authentic interpreter of Black historical experience. Many Black men, like Bennett, felt that Styron was waging a literary war that paralleled the contemporary political and police state war against Black men…”

The problem with this mindset and approach within the community is that, while it attempts to protect our community, it silences both the prosperity and the pain of an entire section of it, as well as shutting down important conversation that needs to be had even by nonqueer members. And it’s doing it all to fight against a force- white supremacy- that is going to commit violence against us regardless! Respectability politics forces many Black people to stay silent, to not speak up on things that may rock the boat- but the boat needs to be rocked! Blaming fellow victims of racism is not going to save us!

“That was the irony of this moment. Black people invoked the cannibal discourse that could have freed up and complicated Black male perspectives on everything from social consumption to homoeroticism only to defend Black masculinity and Black culture. Black men were not interested in, nor capable of dealing with, the complex legacy of cannibalism and homoeroticism that so powerfully shaped their responses to Styron’s novel.”

But that does NOT mean that it’s a nonblack person’s place to make that argument! While I cannot stop you, I do want you to keep in mind that- as always with sensitive topics- you may have to face Black people who may rightfully be offended by your depiction if not done with care. Styron studied James Baldwin himself- who faced backlash on his end for saying that it was time for the Black community to face such a conversation- and even then, he still projected his white pathology and opinions onto the story of such a prolific hero in our history. Tread lightly!

“Well they don’t seem gay to me.”- A Eurocentric Standard of Passing

How many times have you heard this about a Black character? And if you’re Black and LGBTQ, how often have you heard it about people (or maybe even yourself?) How do we ‘not seem gay’? What is gay supposed to be? There’s this denial, almost, of Black LGBTQ folks, based in a complete disconnect of understanding of our own forms of gender expression and sexuality.

It’s extremely bizarre, because so much of pop gay culture as we know it is from Black LGBTQs (please refer to my infamous AAVE lesson), but… when we imagine an LGBTQ person, they're white.

If you’re Black and queer, you have to be this stereotypical, flamboyant RuPaul-esque figure. Can’t be regular degular. If you’re gay, you gotta be Uber Gay™. If you’re trans, you better pass with Complete Gender and Pizzazz. If you’re nonbinary, you’re not ‘androgynous’ enough. If you’re intersex or asexual, you’re practically not real. If you don’t fill this (white, western) mold, you must not be right. When all you have to be in order to be gay… Is be gay.

I shouldn’t have to put on extra performance to qualify as queer in your eyes! Do you know what looks are considered “androgynous” in my community? What behaviors are deemed “masculine” versus “feminine”? Do you know anything about my queer culture, or are you subconsciously comparing it to your own?

I want you to recognize that whatever image of queerness you have in your mind for your favorite or original characters, if Black people of all shapes and sizes aren’t included, there’s a problem! Because what are you seeing in others, that you’re not seeing in us? Is that, perhaps, a you problem? And why are we not worth the added effort of queer layering that others are?

THAT SAID!

“Oh I know what that’s like, I’m gay-”

This one mostly- if not always- comes from white queer folk. I’ve linked The Last Interview with James Baldwin. It’s so short. PLEASE take the time to read it. I’ve always adored how James Baldwin expresses himself, and while I could never stand so close, I have studied how he conveys his thoughts. But there’s almost nothing I could say that he doesn’t say better.

“A Black gay person who is a sexual conundrum to society is already, long before the question of sexuality comes into it, menaced and marked because he’s Black or she’s Black. The sexual question comes after the question of color; it’s simply one more aspect of the danger in which all Black people live. I think white gay people feel cheated because they were born, in principle, into a society in which they were supposed to be safe. The anomaly of their sexuality puts them in danger, unexpectedly. Their reaction seems to me in direct proportion to the sense of feeling cheated of the advantages which accrue to white people in a white society.”

The idea that “I know what it’s like to experience this oppression as a Black person because I’m gay” is not true. It’s like saying “oh look at my tan, I’m as Black as you now”. Stop it. Think back to that first section on history we discussed- no, you and I are not the same. We can discuss our existing connections, our intersection and have sympathy and empathy with one another on human dignity. We don’t have to act like we’re the same to do that! So don’t go headstrong into your writing (or life) saying “oh I get that completely, it’s because I’m queer”. There are more tactful ways to express your intent of solidarity.

'Queer' vs 'The N Word'

We’re gonna nip this one in the bud, because we’re leaving that argument in 2024. You know the one- “saying queer is like using the N-word- as a reclamation/slur!” What this argument reveals, used by EITHER SIDE, is how y’all don’t actually have community with Black people.

It implies that either “we don’t like it” or “we do”. Yet another binary that does not exist! There are plenty of Black people that despise that word, regardless of context. That think it brings us down. And then there are those that use it as a reclamation of an identity that was used to demean and dehumanize. Either way, one party is not going to walk up to a stranger and force it on them- that would cause an actual fight! It’s not improving your argument. As a whole, I would say stop using Black politics in general to improve your arguments when you are unaware of the overlap, or maybe the lack thereof, between Blackness and queerness in your argument. It shows. I’m not your tool; I’m not your Negro!

I’m not here to tell anyone whether queer is a slur or not. I don’t use it as one, but I recognize when people are uncomfortable, when it is being used as one, and I will use different language when I am speaking directly to someone who says “I do not like that word, describe me as __”. I am just here to say that we’re leaving that argument behind.

Black =/= Gender

Blackness and the concept of Gender have a fraught, confusing history. Not human enough to have rights, but human just enough to fail to meet Eurocentric standards of gender.

One example of this is the term “stud”. Studs are an example of Black women traversing gender presentation, the origin of which is because Black people are perceived as having “lesser sexual dimorphism”- i.e. you can’t tell who’s a woman or not. It’s an in-community joke that doesn’t make sense spoken outside of its historical context (thus, no, your white butch is NOT a stud within this context).

Another example: Megan Thee Stallion is one of the most stunning, feminine women I have ever seen… And her entire career, people have called her a man. Because she’s brown-skinned, Black, confident, loud, and openly sexual, she’s deemed manly. I can’t stand it. Plus her height- and mind you, Taylor Swift, of the same height and probably a higher number of bodies over the years, has never once been called a man or lost any of her “feminine” charm despite it. Why is that? If one of her men had shot in the foot, trying to kill her, there would be an uproar. Why is that?

There is an internal contradiction that being a Black woman is being inherently “gender nonconforming”. The first reason is that I will never be allowed to truly be a “woman” because to be a woman is to be white while doing it. White Tears, Brown Scars by Ruby Hamad is an excellent book on this dynamic in all women of color, and Black activists like Angela Davis and Kimberle Crenshaw have written and discussed the topic as well.

The second reason is I have to play the role of whatever ‘gender’ is expected to get me through this life. I have to be more ‘masculine’; strong, assertive, and proactive, a hard worker willing to sacrifice it all every day, in order to protect my family and myself in a world where a lack of resilience might kill me. I cannot allow weakness to stop me from taking care of my community, because Black women are supposed to show up and save the day. Find a Black woman! they say. She’ll fix it! And odds are, I do know how to fix it because I’ve probably had to address it before.

But then I’m acting ‘out of a woman’s place’ by being so ‘hard’ and expecting people to listen to my authority. So in order to play a Black woman’s place, I have to balance that with… Somehow not intimidating people by being more ‘feminine’, submissive, vulnerable, sweet and motherly (because if I’m not a good breeder and mother, I am a bad woman). I scare people if I don’t. If I don’t do that, then I’m not a good Black woman. But if I don’t harden myself and be strong and assertive to protect everyone, and tough through everyone’s problems with infinite sacrifice, then I’m not a good Black woman… You see how the cycle gets confusing! (The Delectable Negro and Black on Both Sides also speak on this, and how this is rooted in the creation of the Mammy!)

I spoke about it earlier, but that same inability to be defined as a human, defined as white, haunts many Black men in their goals to be seen as ‘equal’ to white men and receive equal treatment. By seeking to fit a standard of whiteness, they are never going to attain it (and often, that comes back home in not-so-good way)! E.g.: this is the original issue that Louis had in AMCs' IWTV- Louis never actually wanted to be a vampire, Louis wanted to be treated like an equivalent human- and that was unattainable to him not because he wasn’t a human being, but because he wasn’t a white one!

The Racist Counterproductivity of TERFs

Sigh. If you are of this belief, but here to better your writing, I feel like I should say this to you. I want you to listen to me. (TBH, I’m going to delete anything asking me for opinions on this because I don’t want to potentially entertain even a singular troll). Besides, my argument is pretty simple and resolute.

The gender binary is rooted in bioessentialism, and bioessentialism is rooted in white supremacy. You know what else benefits from white supremacy? The white patriarchy.

How are we gonna escape from the patriarchy and white supremacy… if the ideology you believe in… is rooted in white supremacy and patriarchy?

And it’s not just the TERFs- look within yourselves as well! How are we going to make the world safer for trans people, including white ones, if you aren’t willing to confront your own racist biases? If you are unwilling to release the shackles of gender essentialism and the benefits of whiteness, none of us are getting out of here. You are reinforcing the very walls you wish to dismantle!

To offer another side of the conversation, Black On Both Sides by C Riley Snorton has been an interesting read! Essentially, the conversation is on how Blackness and transness intersect, how being Black in and of itself can be and is a transitional, gender fluid experience. It, along with The Mismeasure of Man by Stephen Jay Gould and Medical Apartheid by Harriet A Washington, goes into the history of how the Black body was seen as a different species altogether, and how phrenology, biological essentialism, and examples of sexual dimorphism were treated as an example on how we are an inferior group. Yet, this lack of understanding of our bodies (despite the constant access to it) allowed for us to maneuver within such a system.

An example, of how Blackness has an effect on our perception of gender:

"Cobb suggests that this blackening may have been an anticipatory gesture; when James Norcom (Jacobs’s enslaver) published a description of her in the 1835 issue of the American Beacon, he presumed that she would be “seeking whiteness and dressing as a free woman, not accentuating her Blackness” and finding a “cross-dressing” and ungendered mode for escape. Although the description of sartorial arrangements seems to conform to passing’s logic of movement for protection or privilege, Jacobs’s use of charcoal to darken her complexion tropes—by inverse logic—on more commonly held beliefs (and fears) about racial passing.

As “passing” became a term to describe performing something one is not, it trafficked a way of thinking about identity not only in terms of real versus artificial but also, and perhaps always, as proximal and performative. Like a vertical line with arrows on either end, passing is figuratively represented by moving up or down hierarchized identificatory formations. This articulation of vertical identity also coordinates with forms of binary thinking, typified, for example, by the language of “the opposite” sex. …Brent/Jacobs’s blackened blackness gives expression to her condition as fungible within the logic of U.S. slavery, in which the system of colorism, as Nicole Fleetwood has argued, “produces a performing subject whose function is to enact difference . . . an act that is fundamentally about assigning value.”

As it relates to the scene of Jacobs’s brushing past Sands, her status as “it” also indicates how blackness-as-fungible engenders forms of nonrecognition, as Jacobs’s performance elucidates how blackness and going blacker become an embrace of the conditions that might allow one to pass one’s friends and lovers undetected. In this encounter, fungibility sets the stage for gendered maneuvers on a terrain constituted by modes of viewing blackness, in which Jacobs’s blackness and going blacker color her gender as well as her face."

The Black Trans/Nonbinary/Genderqueer Experience

Rather than try to summarize opinions on something I had not lived, I wanted to platform some Black trans, intersex, and genderqueer opinions for you all to consider! I asked three questions, and I’ve typed out the responses and placed them as their own post for the sake of space. I don’t care if it’s long- read them! You want to write these characters; you should hear the perspectives of the people you wish to write about!

The Black Intersex Experience

Nothing I could say that someone that is actually Black and intersex couldn’t say better!

Here is a page on Tumblr that compiles resources on the intersex community and its history that I found; while it’s not Black-specific, I have seen the page post topics related to.

The Black Aspec Experience

An interesting thing about identifying as asexual or aromantic while Black is that from all angles, people will simply not believe you because Blackness itself has been sexualized. I talked about this in my lessons on stereotypes, but one of the ways that the sexual assault and violation of Black bodies was dismissed, was to emphasize that not only were we incapable of being r*ped, but that we were naturally inclined to being hypersexual beings and that if we weren’t controlled, we would bring it onto ourselves. Black women were jezebels; Black men were mandigos, vicious savages that would assault pure white women if not chained like beasts.

Here is a page for Black people (!!!) with these identities to gather. Again, BLACK PEOPLE with these identities. Here's another!

The Bit You Actually Showed Up For

So! Given all that historical and social context: really, it’s just about application! You have to ask yourself certain things to catch when you’re about to dip into a bias or stereotype while you’re writing.

Black Queer Joy- A Conclusion

I know I’ve shared a lot of history here, and it’s not been the happiest stuff. THAT BEING SAID!

I must personally say- I am honored to be Black and bisexual. There’s nothing else I’d rather be. I am so happy to be who I am. It’s hard as hell living at the intersection, but the intersection is lit! There’s so much love, history, culture, creation, and so much power here; I’m standing on the shoulders of cultural GIANTS and my chest is full, my chin is high with pride. I love it here!

Being Black and queer itself is not a miserable experience! Your characters should feel joy, because we feel joy! There’s so much that we have to offer the world, it’s practically blossoming from us. I don’t want anyone to walk away from this going “let me go pity the next one I see and tell them how hard their life is”. We don’t need you to feel sorry, we need you to have solidarity! Either show up and do the work, or leave us alone. You can’t join the party at the intersection and then flee when it’s time to fight for it!

Listen to Black queer people in your spaces- dear god, it never fails how conversations of queerness and gender and feminism will leave Blackness completely out, and then be shocked when none of us want to show up. Like I said before- you will never dismantle the walls barring you from your own freedom until you address ours.

Support Black queer creatives, content, perspectives, and people- when you tag on that “support Black trans women” bit at the end of your posts, don’t just speak lightly- understand what that means, and stand on it! Because it’s the thought that counts, but the action that delivers!

[mv1simp]

The Take ♥️

Trainer! Max Verstappen x Midsize!Reader

I wanna put you in seven positions for seventy minutes, you'll get it babe (take you down, I really wanna take you down)

Everyone knows Max Verstappen hates having to workout out constantly. If it wasn't for his physically demanding career as a F1 driver, his choice of a workout would involve a weekly padel game with his mates and FIFA on his PS5. His trainer tries something different and gets Max to be the instructor for once - to you, a sweet and naive girl whose jerk boyfriend told her to lose weight. Max couldn't resist using a hands on method to help you get your confidence back.

Content includes: 18+ MDNI, smut, dark max girlies rejoice we’re back in action, naive! Chubby! reader, dubcon, explicit cheating but reader’s boyfriend is an absolute jerk hehe, size kink, WC 2.7k

Rupert, Redbull's physical trainer that had been delegated to none other than the legendary champion driver Max Verstappen, was at his wit’s end with his client. With his 4 world championships, Max was very familiar with the intense workout routine an F1 driver needed to maintain. It was just, well, he was just sick of the same repetitive timetable over and over again. And his physical trainer could see the results reflecting in Max’s pre season testing, seeing how Max’s numbers were admittedly very good, they were not as high as they’d been in the past.

Everything Rupert had tried to brainstorm to inspire Max had fallen short. From different workout locations (Monaco is only so big, after all), to the most unique exercise techniques he had googled (Brazilian cold water immersive Pilates did not resonate with Max) - everything had come up short. At his wit’s end, Rupert decided to throw a last ditch resort at Max - training you.

You’re a pretty, pure hearted twenty something marketing executive in Monaco, with a narcissistic boyfriend who thinks he’s a top shot with the new money he’s raking in from making a new app. Such a top shot that he feels entitled to hire a personal trainer for his sweet girlfriend, demanding you look like a perfect Insta model. That’s what every man in Monaco wants! he says patronisingly to you, gaslighting you into attending the training. That’s why he reached out to Rupert, a very famous trainer - who consequently dumps you onto Max, stating that he needed a two week holiday from the Dutchman and he could take over his new client. You’ll survive, it’s the off season, he says to Max with a deadpan expression as he waves goodbye.

Max is pissed, of course. What the fuck was Rupert thinking, making a four time world champion F1 driver, multimillionaire, and just general degenerate gamer train some random goldigger chick? He’s rolling his eyes as he walks into his usual gym, where Rupert had told you to turn up. He’s ready to tell you to fuck off, all Mad Max and all, because no way was he wasting his time-

And then he lays eyes on you, and his heartbeat stutters. In front of him, oblivious to the predatory stares of men around her, is the cutest little thing he’s ever seen. You’re dressed in a matching workout set, tugging at the edge of your tight shorts a little self consciously, looking around with innocent wide doe eyes. Fucking hell, Rupert had most certainly not mentioned his new client had the body of a pornstar, all luscious tits and ass and chubby cheeks, and a face that looked like an angel. Max couldn’t wait to sink his big, bad teeth into the sweet looking lamb who stumbled right into his toned arms.

Smirking devilishly, he introduces himself as your new trainer. You gasp, eyes widening cutely, feeling butterflies swirl in your tummy at the tall, handsome and muscular blonde in front of you. Shall we get started? he murmurs, a gorgeous smile on his face and pretty blue eyes intently locked on you. I have to say, I’m surprised you signed up for such an intensive course, he says in an incredibly attractive, deep Dutch accent. You look like you’re in…great shape, if you don’t mind me saying, he adds, observant gaze flicking down to take in your curves. You flush, not minding the attention at all from such a hot trainer!

That’s so sweet of you to say! You say, blushing cutely and looking down, completely missing how Max’s heated gaze glances down your tight crop top, his taller height perfect to get an eyeful of your tempting cleavage. You tell him that actually, it wasn’t your idea, but your boyfriends’s…he thinks I’m too fat, you say with a pout.

What, Max says with a scowl that he quickly smooths when you peer up anxiously at the sudden spike in his mood. Honey was definitely a better way to win over something as sweet and innocent looking as you than poison. Well, ignore whatever your boyfriend wants. You’re here only for your own fitness and confidence, okay?

You beam up at him, nodding enthusiastically. God, Max couldn’t wait to have you for himself. Your boyfriend sounded like an absolute pathetic loser, telling someone as perfect and beautiful as you to change her body. Doesn’t matter, because it made it all the easier for Max to win you over. And he’d make sure to have his fun while doing it.

He’d started all your regular sessions with him with a good pre workout stretch, of course. Taking you into a side room to shield you from the hungry eyes of the other male gym goers, because only Max deserved to see your pretty body bent over for him. It didn’t stop others from walking past the glass door multiple times to ogle you, much to Max’s annoyance. But you remained clueless, twisting yourself in whatever position Max ordered you too like a good student.

And Max was such a nice instructor. He showered you with praise over the tiniest thing, making you blush up a storm, enjoying his reassuring and comforting voice. He was so different to your mean boyfriend! Max’s large hands settled on your soft body, helping position you perfectly, as he huskily whispered in your ear for you to bend forward, all the way like that, good girl. Can you touch your toes for me?

And when you can’t quite get there, he places a strong hand across your lower back to give you that extra push. His hand sometimes drifts lower, to your plump ass, giving it a reassuring squeeze as he instructs you. You gasp, and when he pretends to be none the wiser and ask you what’s wrong, schatje? in such a gentle tone, calling you darling in Dutch, you shyly stammer that you’re kinda sensitive down there…your boyfriend had said he wasn’t going to touch you until you lost weight!

Max’s brain temporarily short circuits at this information. Your idiotic boyfriend wasn’t fucking you every chance that he got? And judging by the way you’re shyly looking away and rubbing your thighs together, it had been a very long time since you’d been properly handled by anyone. Max would bet his multi story yacht that even when you had been sleeping with your boyfriend, he wasn’t making you cum. Leaving you so sexually frustrated that Max just feeling up your lush ass was getting you all hot and bothered. How cute, the Dutchman thinks, unable to hide the devious grin on his face at the new information.

He guided you back into position, his strong hips digging into yours from the back. The full wall mirror in front of you given Max a delicious view of your tits practically spilling out of your top as you lean forward. Good thing your ass is so fat he can easily hide his impressive semi erection behind it, he thinks cheekily. He can’t resist leaning forward and grinding himself against you, just for a second, leaving you gasping and looking behind you with a confused expression - only to find Max innocently looking at you. Something wrong, schatje? he says so sweetly that you feel embarrassed for even wondering what he was doing behind you.

He’ll have to do something about all the hungry states from the other gym goers though - he can’t have them even thinking about something which belongs to him. He glares at anyone who dares look at you through the glass doors, but he needs a more permanent solution.

So for the next session he invites you to his house, where he has a mini gym on his penthouse balcony. You’re unsure at first, but after Max tells you it’s just so hard for him to focus on your sessions at the gym, with the way everyone is always asking him for an autograph or a selfie…you say yes immediately, because you’d never want to make it harder for him when he’d been such a caring trainer! Soon enough he has you all to himself in his outdoor gym, wearing another one of your cute workout sets. Except he wanted to see more of your pretty body, so the next day he hands you a PR package - asking if you wanted to try on the gift from one of his sponsors. You beam at his thoughtful gesture, quickly getting changed into the slutty outfit he’s hand selected.

Max smirks wickedly as he helps stretch you out again, this time with your thighs bent up almost to your flushed face. The blue booty shorts are so tiny they’re practically underwear, slipping into your tanned asscheeks and giving you a cameltoe, much to your embarrassment. You squirm as Max’s keen gaze goes right to your pussy brushing up against his abs - separated only by a thin layer of spandex. Because of course, Max worked out shirtless at home - it’s far too warm! Getting better but still not flexible enough, sweetheart Max says with a disapproving tone that has you scrambling for his approval. Here, let me help you.

He pushes down on your thighs with his huge hands. Your tits almost spill out of the tiny cropped singlet he has you in when he buries his face into them. M-Max! you stammer, asking what he was doing, was it really needed, but he just reassures you that it absolutely was. After all, you didn’t want to pull a muscle and stop being able to exercise for two weeks, right? His deep voice is muffled against your plush tits as he pressed in deeper, making you squirm some more when his lips brush against your hard nipples.

He helps you cool down afterwards too, like the dedicated coach he is. You’re so grateful for all the deep muscle relaxation techniques he knows, moaning blissfully as you lay sprawled underneath him as he massages your sore body. He started with your legs and arms, and then your tense abs, and then one strong palm squeezing your lush tits and the other cupping your pussy through your sports set. You were always embarrassingly wet after your workouts, with all the close proximity to Max, and prayed he didn’t notice how soaked your shorts had become as he rubbed his palm encouragingly against your cunny. You couldn’t stop the contended moans as you arched into his skilled hands, finding the tension draining from your muscles completely.

Soon you’re over at Max’s everyday, working out longer and longer. To your delight, Max asks if you’d mind helping him with his workout! You’re so eager to return the favour after he’s been so considerate, taking time out of his busy schedule just to train you. All you had to do was sit on his back as he did push ups-

You insist that there was no way he could do that, you were way too heavy, what if he hurt himself? All it takes is one cocky smirk from him to convince you, and you climb onto his back, gasping in amazement as his muscular back flexes when he easily starts during push ups. You’re completely distracted by how attractive he looks, so much more broader and stronger than your own boyfriend who couldn’t even lift you up! You feel a bit guilty thinking that but don’t get time to think about it - because next you’re helping Max with his hip thrusts. You squeal as his impressive legs thrust you into the air with a bounce, making your sensitive pussy land on his rock hard cock each time. You stabilise yourself with hands on his abs, running over the taut, sweaty muscle, so enamoured with the sight that you don’t notice Max’s blue gaze fixed on your jiggling tits with each bounce. Mmmh-Ah! H-how many more do you have to do, Max? you say breathlessly, feeling yourself start to get more and more turned on with each thrust of his hips. You felt so dirty, practically dripping through your booty shorts onto his lower abs, feeling all horny while he was just trying to work out!

Just a few more, he says vaguely, grasping onto your thick asscheeks to steady you as he continues meanly grinding his angry, hard cock into your soft cunny. You end up cumming through your shorts, desperately biting down on your lips to keep silent but failing to suppress your slutty moans. You were so cute and naive that you had no clue Max was just dry jumping you to orgasm. Training your perfect body to respond to his, just how he wanted it.

He left you in your post orgasmic bliss on his outdoor couch to cool down as he ventured inside. He’d been planning on jerking off his raging erection in the shower, not wanting to scare you off with his impressive load. But when he caught sight of the protein powder on his kitchen counter top, he couldn’t resist. All it took was a couple pumps and the image of you riding him with your bouncing tits for him to cum, filling a good half of the glass he tops off with a protein smoothie. When he hands you his homemade drink, you thank him with wide doe eyes. You’re such a thoughtful trainer, Max! you say sincerely, eagerly drinking his gift. Mmmh, it tastes amazing, what ingredients did you use? He winks and tells you it’s a top secret world class athlete recipe.

Max is completely addicted to feeding you his thick load and has you equally addicted, asking shyly if he’d make you another one of his smoothies after each session. He figured he has you enamoured enough with him to take things to the next level when you start asking for seconds. The thing is, schatje, since I eat so much protein and supplements, my sperm is super high in nutrients…but it’s not safe for you to take so much protein directly as a girl! So that’s why I had to put it in your drink, okay? You nod with wide eyes, your jaw dropped open in shock as Max unties his shorts to show you his huge swollen cock that’s been feeding you for days. You dazedly ask if maybe you should be getting “fed” from your boyfriend instead, you weren’t sure if he’d be mad if he found out-

Max cuts off your worries immediately, promising you that only his cum would be able to provide you with what you needed. In fact, you shouldn't be going anywhere near your boyfriend's weak release. You nod quickly, wanting to show Max what a good student you were, completely willing to obey him. And when he asks if you'd help him out in making your smoothie today, since his hand was kinda tired after so many days, you eagerly say yes! Soon you're snuggled up by his side, letting him guide both your hands up and down his cock. You're in awe of how big and hot his shaft looks, you'd never seen one that size. You swallow back drool in your mouth, already craving your daily treat, and when Max slyly suggests that you could just drink directly from the source? you're on him in seconds. Dutifully sucking and jerking him off, making him hiss and grab your hair as he thrusts in deep and cums with a deep moan. He makes you stick out your tongue afterwards to make sure you didn't waste even a drop.

Good girl. Let's do your cool down massage in the shower today, hmm? It's so fucking hot out. Max's praise fills you with heady warmth and you giddily agree, letting him guide you into his luxurious shower to cool down, stripping out of your skimpy workout set.

Too bad you ended up doing a lot more cardio than cooling down behind the steamed glass. Max grins devilishly as you both watch his cock go in and out of your creamy pussy together, every thrust making you scream his name and hold onto him desperately. After all, fucking up against the bathroom wall was a much more effective workout, right?

[bumblebeerror]

Since people seem confused -

What Union Organized Protest Terms Mean and What You Should/Shouldn’t Do About Them

STRIKE:

Workers are in some way refusing to work all at once/in large numbers

Usually used to protest job conditions

Includes mass walk-out, showing up but refusing to do specific things, and showing up to picket the place of work

This tactic is used primarily to create pressure on corperations due to lost profits and damaged reputation - work not being done means consumers will refund orders, go elsewhere, or file complaints. Also raises awareness for the working conditions of the workplace, further damaging the company’s reputation.

It is also used to demonstrate the skill/value of said workers, as difficult to replace quickly enough to prevent losses.

Unless directed otherwise by the strike participants, you as a consumer carry on as normal, including buying from/business with the corporation, and responding accordingly (refunding your purchase, filing complaints) when the corporation fails to deliver due to the strike.

Your solidarity with the workers means listening to what their plan for the protest is and staying up to date, as those plans sometimes change.

BOYCOTT:

A call by unions/organized workers/political or social groups to avoid shopping/doing business with the corporation.

Can be done by many groups of people, is more often a CONSUMER based decision rather than one initiated by workers or unions

Usually in response to changes or policy the corporation makes that the group views as immoral ( supporting Israel, funding lobbyist groups for more lax business regulation, mistreating employees, opposing gay or trans people’s existence )

Is meant to show a corporation that their practices are costing them money and harming their reputation, and that their competition can and will scoop their consumer base up

If you agree with the group calling for the boycott, this signals that you should avoid shopping/doing business with said corporation.

SCAB:

A worker who is hired to replace a striking worker

Usually hired en masse once the strike is public, with very little vetting/interviewing/etc - getting bodies into workplaces.

Do not become a scab. A corporation may try to mislead you into believing your position is not a scab. They will not be up front. Be very wary of applying to jobs at corporations with active strikes

PICKET LINE:

A literal group of people, usually striking workers and sympathetic protesters, occupying the grounds around a business

Typically holding signs informing others of their grievances. Their aim is to turn you away from the business

If striking workers are involved, this is a strike that is calling for a boycott.

Don’t cross the picket line.

Listen to Organized Workers.

Strike =/= Boycott

[codnasties]

cod characters fucking fleshlights

this post includes: soap, ghost, gaz, price, graves, konig & alejandro

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soap 🧼- the one that takes his time

now, this ain't soap's first time using a fleshlight. he started with a tenga egg or something like that, just for the sake of trying something that wasn't his hand. and i just know that troughout the years he has created a decently sized collection with a lot of varietiy: fleshlights imitating pussies, asses, mouths,... even if a man like him could easily pull a pretty lass to fuck, with the job he has and what it requires of him, it isn't always ideal.

but there is one thing that soap does, no matter weather he's fucking one of his partners or a plastic replica: he takes his time. stroking himself tentatively before lubing his dick up and loweing the fleshlight onto his hard on until he's balls deep. and when i say he fucks it as if it were a real person i mean it. he's fucking int in diferent positions, jerking himself with it but also fucking into it, both slow and fast until cums all over himself

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

ghost 👻- the stretcher

ghost sometimes has to ask himself if he's really that big and thick or if it's just that the one or two fleslights he owns are way too fucking small. he doesn't know, but he very much loves it. there is something about the size difference, the way the plastic stretches to fit him and how he can perfecly see it expanding as he pushes his dick deeper into it that makes him go feral.

now, other than his size kink goin brrr, he finds himself swiping his cock against the flesglight's pussy-like entrance, as if he were teasing a real cunt, before fucking himself slowly into it. he's mersmerized by the plastic doll completely swallowing up his aching hard dick until he's balls deep. he also intends to pull out - just to save himself some clean up - but he finds himself so overwhelmed by the feeling and visuals that he just fill the fleshlight up with his potent cum - more than once, at that -.

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

gaz 🧢- mess making perpetrator

this may be my most repeated gaz headcanon but he's a mess maker and there is no deniying. when he get's home from a mission or something like that and he doesn't feel like trying to find a partner to fuck, he always has a trusty fleshlight. the thing is, he doesn't even make it to the bedroom most of the time, deciding to just fuck it in his livingroom.

he just plunged deeply into the plastic pussy, stretching the plastic over his limit because his dick is too long for the small fleshlight, almos breking it. the pent up hornyness and the feeling of something other than his hand wrapped around his dick sending him into an orgasm faster than he expected. he pulls out to first his impossibly hard cock when he feels himself about to cum. and he stains the sofa with it as the mess perpetrator that he is - and let me tell you, it ain't the first time he's had to clean his seed out of that sofa.

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

price 🚬- the first timer

price is an older and more traditional man, he would rather fuck another person than some piece of plastic. but he keps hearing his men talk about fleshlights, how good they feel,.. and all that combined with the fact that he ain't getting younger, he's extra tired and trying to find a partner with a job like his is tedious, he decides to get himself a fleshlight just to try it out of curiotisty.

what he did not expect was that god forsaken piece of plastic would feel that fucking good. all it took was some slow deep strokes into it before he found himself cumming. and at that moment his lust filled brain took over and he started fucking himself into the fleshlight again, trying to extend the pleasure of the orgasm. let's say he now fully understands why his men praise them plastic holes.

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

konig 🗡- the nasty fucker

lets be real, konig is fleshlight collector number 2. anxiety gets the best of him so he would rather to make do with some plastic pussy or ass than having to deal with the hassle of interacting with people. his not that experiended ass is fucking enamoured by the feeling of and ass or pussy, even if it isn't a real one.

now, konig allways finds himself doing two thing every time he uses one of his fleshlight. a. he moans. like a bitch in heat. he can't help it, it just feels overwhelingly good to have something wrapping tightly around his unexperienced cock. and the fact of finally getting some release. b. he makes messes - yup, mess making perpetrator no. 2 -. spit, precum, lube and cum mixing all together, covering his dick, hands and fleshlight as he fucks himself dumb and slaps his dick all over yhe plastic ass.

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

graves 🪦 - the stressed

now, these military men always find themselves stressed out, it's a part of the job. but for graves, said job and the tension that it generates have kept him away for some time now from a real pussy or ass. so a fleshlight is a good alternative, giving him all that he needs to reach some much needed release.

the few occasions he has had enough time to indulge in some pleasure, he's going to make the most of it. alternating slow, sensual deep strokes and fast shallow ones. hands making sure that the fleshlight stays in place as he plunges into it chasing an orgasm and moanig at the sweet feeling of release. he for sure cums deep inside of the plastic masturbator, because it may be plastic, but he loves creampie-ing it the same way he would creampie a real person.

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

alejandro 🤠 - the tip teaser

alejandro doesn't strike me as the type of person that would have a proper fleshlight, you know? instead of a piece of plastic that fully engulfs his dick he has one of those quickshot ones. a transparent one at that. it gives him a lot of options, from fully jerking his cock with it to just teasing his tip.

and oh does he love to tease his tip! using that comact masturbator to play with his angry red bulbous tip. pushing just the head in and out, sometimes tilting it to make his dick pop out of the fleshlihgwith a wet noise. and seeing his cock breach into the plastic, dick twitching at the feeling, his stomach spasming from the sensation... he always inevitably cums all over himself, staining his hard shaft, lower hairy stomach, thights and even the quilt.

[chiara-hotel]

Wearing Their Clothes

Characters: Hugo Vlad, Harumasa, Lighter, Evelyn, Miyabi, Trigger

✧ Hugo loves taking his hat off and putting it on your head; he loves just seeing his things on you.

✧ Even if you get cold and he lends you his jacket, he loves seeing you wear it, knowing that you're dating him

✧ Although, if you ever take his hat off of his head and put it on yours? He'll feel flustered for a moment before regaining his composure and teasing you about it. But also he'll feel proud that he's yours, and you are his

✧ His hat often takes trips between your house and his house, but his clothes, however, usually stay with him

✧ If he sees you wearing them, he'll love it, especially if you take his shirts and wear them around the house

✧ I think Harumasa would love it whenever his s/o wore parts of his clothing

✧ For example, if some of his pajamas were lying on his bed, thrown there when he was getting ready in the morning, he would love for you to wear them. They're so comfortable to wear that you can't help but try them. Although as soon as he comes home and sees you wearing them, he falls in love again

✧ Or perhaps if you both wear white blouses, he wouldn't mind if you borrowed his for a day. He might even steal yours back, who cares if its too tight or a little big for him.

✧ He's an anxious person; he desires to always touch and feel you. Having either you wear his clothing or when he wears your clothing, he feels connected to you. It feels as though you're always with him.

✧ Not to mention, seeing you in his own clothing makes him extremely happy

✧ Some items of clothing he enjoys lending you include his pyjamas, blouse, and even his choker occasionally (I like to think he has at least 3 in case of stains and such, so there's an extra for you to wear if needed)

✧ Lighter often lets you wear his jacket or scarf, even his sunglasses, if you need them

✧ He's your number one hype man, and if you wear his clothes, he'll fall in love with you all over again

✧ Oftentimes, whenever you're cold, he'll give you his jacket to wear so you can warm up

✧ He only gives you his scarf if it's too cold out or you guys are somewhere indoors, since he doesn't want anyone challenging you to a battle, thinking that you're the famous, undefeated champion

✧ On another note, he would definitely give you his jacket if you're bleeding, just to cover the wound. This would be so that it can protect you but also so that he doesn't need to see the blood on your clothes and accidently pass out

✧ Oftentimes, you'd take Evelyn's coat without her knowing, so whenever she tries to find it for work, you sometimes have it, and she has to take it off of you

✧ She loves seeing you wearing it, although she does unfortunately, need it to head out

✧ If you ever join her in a hollow, whenever she takes off her coat for combat, you always pick it up and put it on, which she finds amusing (but also glad because it gets the dirt off of it)

✧ If you both are at home she'll let you take whatever from her closet, shirts, pants, hoodies, jackets, whatever is hers is also yours

✧ Miyabi doesn't mind if you take or don't take her clothes

✧ If you take them or don't, she wouldn't really mention it or tell you to stop

✧ She will enjoy when you do wear them, though, even if she doesn't mention it that much

✧ You could take her shirts, gloves, or even her coat and she'll let you

✧ She definitely has extras since she wears the same thing every day for work so you guys could match together

✧ Due to her position as well as her gear, you wouldn't have many chances to wear her work clothing

✧ Although any shirts, pants or sweaters she has lying around are all yours!

✧ Since she's blind, she might not actually realize you took her shirt until either you mention it or she feels the fabric and can't find it in her closet

✧ She doesn't mind whenever you take her stuff, though! She also loves to take off your clothes, so she's happy if you're willing to take hers as well

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ZZZ Masterlist