#masters in journalism and mass communication

[somaiya-vidyavihar-university]

Explore top programs in journalism, mass communication, and mathematics in India. Learn about career opportunities and why Somaiya is the right choice for higher education.

[vidyajyotieduversity]

Masters in Journalism & Mass Communication (MA-JMC)

Duration: 2 Year (4 Semester)

Eligibility: Graduate in Any Stream

Internship: 6 Months within Course

Teaching Methodology : Events | Assignments | Live Presentations | Visits | Group Discussions | Guest Lectures | Survey & Research

Certifications: Adobe Photoshop, Premier

International Career Options: (Conditions Apply)

International Qualification with Pathway to Australia, Canada, New Zealand, Singapore, Thailand, UK, USA

International Study Tour (Annual) (3-4 days) to Dubai / Singapore Thailand / Malaysia / Europe

[radiantcircle-if]

The Radiant Circle

The Radiant Circle is a work-in-progress contemporary fantasy interactive novel with elemental magic, a heavy hand of romance, and a salt-sprinkle of mystery. The story is rated 18+ and may contain triggering content for some.

↪ introduction (updated 7/22/24) ⟢ demo (upcoming fall/winter)

You were born without any magic into a long lineage of sorcerers who serve the Night Circle—a division of the Radiant Circle, the central governing body that maintains order among sorcerers. Even now when you live outside of the magical community, you’re still required to report to the local leadership about the magic you still don’t have.

Of course, only after having accepted a life without magic, you awaken a latent magical power too great to be yours. Myths speak of such a sorcerer, a Resonant Soul capable of mastering all four elements, reincarnated throughout history to bring balance to the magic community. So little is truly known, but that can’t be you.

But what if it is?

Thankfully, as an investigative journalist, what you do best is hunt for the truth. To unravel the secrets of your soul, you’re forced back into the world of sorcery to navigate ancient rivalries and contend with those who may fear your newfound power and seek to bury it for good. 

Because while most didn't believe the myths to be true, others have been preparing for your return. Most of all? You four souls bonded to yours for eternity.

Play as the main character ⟢

Choose your name, appearance, gender, and sexuality.

Develop your personality as a harmonizer or disruptor—will you bring unity or will you bring destruction?

Gain mastery over elemental magic as the Resonant Soul—how much mastery in each element is up to you.

Travel the world while earning or losing influence through your decisions—will your reputation precede you or will you remain unknown?

Five romance options ⟢

Two pansexual men, one lesbian, and two gender-selectable romance options... and a hidden sixth romance option... with the potential for more to unlock later.

Four soulmates who will be revealed over the course of the story—your bonds, whether platonic or romantic, are yours to develop.

And if you don’t like romance, you can improve your friendships instead.

Or if you’re a misanthrope, deteriorate all your relationships to your liking.

Good endings? Check. Bad endings? Also check.

You ✦ 26-year-old journalist from Seattle, USA (ℹ) Rejected by the magical community because your magic never awakened, you once sought to understand why before later turning to a career of journalism to attempt to uncover truths that don’t have to do with magic. Your dissertation was titled “Unveiling the Hidden: A Comparative Study of Secret Societies and Their Influence on Modern Media." After landing your dream job as an investigative journalist, you're returning home to Seattle for your assignment.

⟡ tropes include main character (surprise! you're the main character), insider/outsider, the most wanted (because you are a…), person of mass destruction, (possible) living legend, (possible) lust object, (seemingly) cosmic plaything…

Arseau Nassiet ⟡ High Justicar 31-year-old water sorcerer (he/him) from Seattle, USA (ℹ) A talented water sorcerer, your older brother Arseau is well loved within the Night Circle's upper echelons, but he'd never brag about it. He has been away from home for over a decade, raising ranks within the circle alongside his best friend. He coordinates his visit home with yours during the holidays so he can see his favorite younger sibling (never mind that he has only one sibling—you).

⟡ tropes include protective older brother, brainless beauty (yeah, he's a himbo), the caregiver/caretaker, the confidant (if you want), the informant, nice guy (someone has to keep the peace between the Pico brothers), the reliable one...

César Pico (RO) ⟡ Archumbricar 31-year-old earth sorcerer (he/him) from Tijuana, MX (ℹ) One of the highest ranking earth sorcerers in the world, César is seen as the unofficial heir of the current Night Luminary—and he takes the role seriously. As your brother's best friend, he has been a permanent fixture in your life as far as you remember—another persistent reminder of the magic that has remained inaccessible to you and the community that left you behind. He's at least an attractive reminder, even if it's unfortunate that his rare smirk proves that he knows it.

⟡ tropes include the hero, the cold & brooding heir, older brother's best friend/forbidden love, age gap, opposites attract, danger deadpan, glory hound, tall dark & handsome (obviously) ⟡ solo-route (with a possible rivalry with his brother), borderline enemies to lovers, (possible first love), forced proximity, maybe the slowest burn

Rafa Pico (RO) ⟡ High Justicar 27-year-old fire sorcerer (he/him) from Tijuana, MX (ℹ) The younger brother of César....and also his left hand man even though he doesn't take his position within the Night Circle very seriously. He doesn't take anything very seriously except his freedom. Especially his freedom to flirt his way into anyone's good graces.

⟡ tropes include the explorer, the charming playboy, childhood/long time friend, (his) unrequited crush (on you), the (horny) bard, speed demon, hell seeker, elegant classical musician... ⟡ solo-route (with a possible rivalry with his brother), friends to lovers but he never really saw you as a friend, forced proximity, slow burn

Gazi Gharib (RO) ⟡ Photojournalist 28-year-old (she/her or he/him) from New York City, USA (ℹ) Your roommate and best friend ever since you moved to NYC, they're always ready to help you investigate something new and dangerous.

⟡ tropes include the innocent, the best friend, the encouraging charmer, the serial romeo, the casanova, agent mulder (the believer), empathetic communicator, spirited competitor, the klutz ⟡ solo-route or poly-route with Deniz, besties to lovers (and you can start at the lover bit if you'd like cause this one is a...), faaaaaast burn

Deniz Yılmaz (RO) ⟡ Private Investigator 26-year-old (he/him or she/her) from Istanbul, TR (ℹ) Your next-door-neighbor and childhood best friend. You haven't kept in close contact, but they're the first person you think of seeing when you visit home.

⟡ tropes include the jester, agent scully (the skeptic), street-smart investigator, hardboiled detective, erudite stoner, literal-minded/snark knight combo, childhood friends, loyal supporter, gadgeteer genius ⟡ solo-route or poly-route with Gazi, childhood friends (or was it more?) to lovers, (possible second chance romance...), somewhere between slow and fast burn

Dr. Noel Sung (RO) ⟡ Journalist 41-year-old (she/her) from London, UK (ℹ) Your graduate school mentor who you credit for preparing you to land a job at The New York Times as prestigious as it is. She's now your direct supervisor, and she has quite the assignment for you.

⟡ tropes include the magician, high-powered career woman, absent-minded professor(/former forbidden love?), age gap, charismatic intellectual, intuitive leader, pragmatic idealist, deadpan snarker, determinator, shrinking violet, (your possible unrequited crush on her goes here)… ⟡ solo-route, workplace romance (technically; she's your boss now), slow burn

An ancient, hidden society of sorcerers ⟢

The Radiant Circle is the central governing body that maintains harmony and order among sorcerers, as well as keep their community secret. It was originally formed and led by the Resonant Soul (called the High Guardian—this is you) and the most powerful elemental sorcerers of the time (called the Founding Guardians—these are the four souls bonded to you) as an alliance of sorcerers from across the New Kingdom of Egypt.

After its formation, the magical community grew, and eventually, the Radiant Circle was divided into four smaller regional circles called the Ephemeral Circles: the Night Circle (you know the most about this one), the Dawn Circle, the Day Circle, and the Dusk Circle. These four circles, also called luminariates, are the main governing bodies of the current world of sorcery. Every known family of sorcerers lives under the eye of the Radiant Circle and one of the four Ephemeral Circles.

Only the Resonant Soul can be the High Guardian of the Radiant Circle. Only the four souls bonded with Resonant Soul can be the Founding Guardians. During periods where the Resonant Soul or the Guardians aren’t alive, these positions are left vacant and the Ephemeral Circles meet as the Radiant Council annually instead. Unfortunately, it's been so long since there has been a Resonant Soul that there aren't many people left who remember who sits at the top of the hierarchy.

You live as a Threshold—an uninitiated sorcerer, typically a child who can't use magic yet—within the luminariate called the Night Circle. You sit at the bottom of the hierarchy, but every other sorcerer you know? César is an Archumbricar, the right hand of the Night Luminary and leader of the Night Circle. Arseau and Rafa are César's High Justicars, his right and left hands. Your dads even play a role, advising the Luminary from their position in the Night Weave.

A single soul that can control all four elements, reincarnated once again—you ⟢

Before you became the Resonant Soul, you were a child born without magic to two prominent sorcerers sometime before recorded human history begins. Back then, it was common to put the child of every sorcerer through a resonance ritual, even children of sorcerers born without magic who always died in the process. But where there's a will, there's a way, and someone really wanted you to live and created circumstances that bound your souls together—one into endless reincarnation and the other into endless immortality.

You meet the four original Guardians over the course of hundreds of years. Your bonds are unique and have chained the fate of their souls with yours so that they are reincarnated in an endless cycle by your side. Even so, you've lived more lives without them than with them, lived more lives without magic than with it. Almost as if you're fighting a losing battle against knowing your true soul.

Only the Resonant Soul can resonate with all four types of elemental magic, but your magic remains locked away until you regain your memories (how're you supposed to regain memories you don't remember you need to regain? then again, how safe would it be to give you all that power and no recollection of all the mistakes you've made?). The Guardians are known for their extraordinary abilities in one element; their magic isn't sealed away, only their memories (which still isn't convenient—how are you supposed to know who they are if they don't know who they are?).

⟢ retweets & asks are welcome! there is no better writing motivation ♡

〉 Sections: Profiles, Editorials, Articles, Ask Me, Answers, Quotes

[tribalauthor]

THE WISEWOMAN (roman reigns ff) <chapter 1>

Word count: 2k

13th January, 2024

11.27am

It is a snowy Saturday in New York which is perfect for a coffee hangout with friends drinking overpriced hot chocolate or reading a clichè romance book by the fireplace at home but do you know where I am? I am situated in a hospital room, worrying my ass off for my dear uncle Paul.

"Uncle, I hope you get better soon" I was holding his hand. If something happens to him, I would completely lose it. He is the closest family I have after my mother.

He apparently got into an accident earlier and for everybody's surprise, that accident didn't happen in WWE - the place that can literally end you in the hospital especially for a talker like my uncle. But no, it wasn't there. He may have broken his leg in his very own house while he was trying to fix his lightbulb.

Yeah, I know this sounds very dumb but sometimes the dumbest things lead us to accidents.

"Don't worry, Sophia. I'm going to be fine." he assured me with a little nod. He has always been the type of person who doesn't want to bother his close people in any way but I don't know if he realizes how much it means to me him to be okay.

"So Mr. Heyman" the doctor entered in the room. A medium tall man with very short grey-white hair and beard. He was holding an X-ray.

"You see this?" he showed it to me and uncle. I see an X-ray. My mom would be more familiar with this since she is a surgeon. "I don't know how you fell down but this a serious injury. You will need a lot of rest and time for recovery."

"Yeah, okay. I understand" uncle gave one of his light smiles.

"That means no work" the doctor specified.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Johnson" oh no. Here he goes. The ultimate talker himself, Paul Heyman. "I am the special council for your Tribal Chief, Roman Reigns and he has to prepare for a very important match for the Royal Rumble which is a fatal 4-way match by the way which in case you don't know, it means he has to fight three men at the same time, so he can defend his Undisputed WWE championship and then he has to prepare for Wrestlemania 40." I'm sure the doctor understood close to nothing from what was said. I know uncle gets crazy during Wrestlemania season and now he will get even crazier that he won't be able to work.

"Uncle" I sighed and rolled my eyes. He loves his job. He has always loved his job but he is way too dedicated and that's why he got so far, of course. He is amazing at what he does. I watch his stuff from time to time. I know all of his guys and I know that Roman Reigns is a big deal.

The doctor had the typical look of confusion, probably thinking my uncle is crazy which he is. He is a crazy man indeed but I still love him. He has helped me a lot throughout the years.

Especially after my father died from overdose almost 9 years ago. I was just 18 years old when this happened and uncle still hasn't forgiven his own brother for doing this to me, his only daughter, and my mother who as I said is a surgeon therefore a very busy woman.

Uncle was the only one who supported me when I said I wanted to major in journalism in Julliard because I think I got that orator skills from him. My mother, of course, wasn't supportive since she wanted me to become a doctor. I mean are we surprised?

But I knew I ain't made for the hospital rooms. I am made for talking. I was born with a big mouth and have talked smack since forever.

After I finished my master's degree program in Mass Communication in Julliard I started an internship in Brooklyn Magazine where I write articles. The editor in chief likes them and she said she sees a high potential in me.

"If you want to recover sooner, Mr. Heyman, you have to stay at home and take a rest. Your wife can take care of you-"

"I'm divorced" uncle interrupted him.

"I will take care of you, uncle. No problem." I said immediately.

"No." he just shook his head. Who is gonna take care of him then? My cousins are in college and I'm working a full time job.

"Look, I can ask my boss for less hours work" I tried to persuade him.

"No" he shook this head, saying with the exact same tone as earlier. I see the spark in his eyes. The same spark when he comes up with something.

"I can always hire a lady to take care of me but you, my dear niece, will take my spot temporarily in WWE as a special council for the Tribal Chief, Roman Reigns".

I furrowed my eyebrows so hard that I bet, an enormous wrinkle appeared on my forehead.

"What? Why?"

"This is going to be perfect for your resumè, Sophia. Trust me. Think about this." he seemed absolutely certain.

"Uncle, I want to be a JOURNALIST. To sit around in the studio for the morning shows, wearing my cute little costumes that I'm going to buy with my own money and interviewing politicians, celebrities and all the crazy, pretentious people that come to your mind. I don't wanna be stuck in a wrestling federation interviewing some big ass sweaty men and asking them things like 'So what are you gonna do to your opponent tonight?'. No. That's not my dream. See, the boss told me she sees a big potential in me because of my skills and face card. How am I supposed to leave?"

I just dropped my dramatic monologue about my dreams. And I didn't lie. This is how I've been imagining myself my whole life.

Uncle didn't seem deeply fazed by this monologue. Indeed, he softened a bit but he still had the look in his eyes, the exact look that he knows he has something against me.

"Okay. Alright, Sophia. Whatever you say. I get your point. I'm not going to force you but didn't you say you want to take care of me?" I see where the things are going right now.

"Yes but that's-" he didn't even let me finish my point because he knows another monologue is coming. We rarely argue but boy, when we do, things get crazy.

"Taking my place temporarily in WWE is the best way you can help me and yourself as well. It's a win-win situation." he flashed one of his cute little innocent smiles but he knows very well he ended me with using my phrase and the "help" part.

I just pressed my lips, closed my eyes in defeat and took a deep sigh.

"Also don't make me mention the fact that you are always going to travel around the country and even the world and if you get your dream job in CNN or GMA or like you called them "morning shows", you aren't gonna travel much, for the record. You are going to be stuck in the same thing over and over again but in WWE you have the variety of experiences and you are going to see for yourself. Also WWE is the best place you can get recognition which will lead to big opportunities beyond your imagination."

And with this statement uncle just solidified himself even more as the righteous one. The part about opportunities may be no lie.

"Plus, in WWE you can wear your "cute little suits" as you referred. Allow me to send you some money and buy yourself something" he took out his phone and transferred me some money.

"Okay, uncle. I got your point already. Alright. I'm going to be your replacement...temporary." I specified.

"Temporary, of course. I would never let you take my job, Sophia. As much as I love you, you know the grip it has on me."

"I am fully aware" I chuckled and rolled my eyes.

"You will see how easy it is to work with Roman Reigns." Uncle seemed weirdly excited.

"That Aquaman ass guy? He ain't giving me those vibes but whatever you say, I guess. You know him better than I do." I shrugged. Uncle always talks in superlatives when it comes to Roman Reigns. He ain't even talking about me and my cousins like that, so we get lowkey jealous.

I kind of acknowledge that Roman guy. As I know he changed the WWE business completely and so on, I know he is heavily thirsted over by both males and females. However, I don't fall into that category.

"I want you to behave in front of him, okay? And Jey and Jimmy too. Save the smack talk for the rest of the roster." he knows how dangerous I can get when I start talking.

"Got it, uncle" I rolled my eyes for the millionth time today. We will see how these guys are going to treat me and I will decide how to behave. But from what uncle has told me they seem like great men but at the end of the day, I'm going to be the judge of that.

"Alright. Now I'm gonna make a few calls. I am going to call Roman, Hunter and even your boss if you want to. Then I'm going to tell you all about work.

"I'm gonna tell my boss, don't worry about that." I assured him.

"So tomorrow you have a meeting with Triple H aka Paul Levesque aka your temporary boss and after that Roman will show you around the building and everything. He may even add some stories for the business from his point of view. Agh." uncle sighed and had a big grin on his face. "He is an amazing man, Sophia. The biggest single star in the whole sports entertainment. If someday you bring me a nephew in law, I wish him to be as Roman - successful, strong, loyal and dedicated. But the Tribal Chief's level is unreachable, so at least somewhat close to him"

"Chill, uncle. You ain't at work right now." I couldn't help but laugh at him.

Honestly right now, I don't want any man. Two months ago I ended my relationship with Robert Mayer. We graduated at the same university but he was from the Law Department. Does a laywer and journalist sound like a great match?

That's what I thought.

"Dad, how are you?" my cousins flashed in the room. They are a few years younger than me and they are so cute, honestly. We exchanged a hug.

"I am gonna be okay, kids" uncle couldn't help but smile at them. "As long as I have you three, I am always going to be okay."

"We told mom about this". Jason said.

"Why? What have I told you? You don't tell your mother anything about me". He scolded my cousins. Uncle can't really stand aunt.

"Don't worry, she is not coming". Amanda assured him. She looks exactly like aunt when she was young, though. Blonde hair and brown eyes. She looks nothing like uncle but his son does. He just has hair...still.

I got the blue eyes from my father and uncle and the blonde hair from mom since she is also a natural blondie but a very skilled surgeon.

Somebody entered in the room as well. That must be aunt. I haven't seen her in ages but I couldn't mistake her.

"What did you do, Paul?" she scolded him. They still have that "married couple attitude" although they have been divorced for so long and as much uncle claims that he cannot stand her, I know it's not completely true. She is the mother of his kids after all.

"Oh Lord, please save me" uncle started baptising and looking up at the ceiling.

"Chill your dramatic ass down and let me see what have you done" she went to him and smiled at me mouthing "Hi", I did as well.

I waved at my cousins and uncle goodbye because I intend to leave them alone.

"No, Sophia. Don't leave me" he begged.

"I have to prepare for tomorrow, remember? It's a big day" I replied while walking to the door. "I'm going to contact you tomorrow and make sure to keep me updated of your condition" these were my last words before I exited the room and dialed my boss' number.

[rudyking]

SAY NO! TO SMOOCHES!:

Nine-year-old Cyrus Maybank is sick of his father, JJ's smoochy kisses. He starts a kissing protest to reclaim 'the rights of his face' and ban all forms of kisses from JJ, who seems to use Cyrus as his special little kissing target. JJ, in turn stages his own protest against Cyrus's protest to continue kisses, leading to a father and son war of protest and the 'rights' of kisses. Who will win?

 CYRUS'S POV

Operation: Say No To Smooches!- War Diary- Entry 1

Date: Day One of the Uprising – a Tuesday, probably. Does it even matter when freedom is at stake? Mission Initiated: To eradicate the tyranny of Fatherly Kisses from the face of this earth… or at least, from my face.

Commander: Cyrus Maybank (Age: 9, Designation: Chief Strategist, Supreme Ruler of the Stuffed Animal Brigade).

Forces:

Stuffed Animal Barricade (S.A.B): Captain Calico (Cat, Chief Morale Officer), Barny Bear (Bear, Head Of Security), Randy Rabbit (Rabbit, Reconnaissance) Penelope Panda (Panda, Communications – mostly for cuddles and emotional support, let’s be real).

Human Allies (Pending Recruitment): Thinking about getting Darlene and Benny on board. They hate getting kissed by their dads too. Intelligence gathering required. Enemy Forces:

JJ Maybank (Codename: The Smoochinator): My Dad. Blonde hair like sunshine that’s gone bad. Always grinning too much. Thinks he’s funny. He’s the one who started this whole mess with his… kisses. Ugh, just thinking about it makes my face hot. He’s got these… dimples. Mom says they’re cute. They’re weapons of mass affection, I say!

Possible Enemy Reinforcements: John B and Pope. Dads stick together. It’s a Dad thing.

Tactical Overview: The Smoochinator has launched a series of unprovoked attacks, ambushing me with unwanted kisses. These aren’t even cool kisses like Mom gives. These are loud, slobbery, cheek-pinching, “OH MY GOODNESS YOU’RE GETTING SO BIG!” kind of kisses. They’re… humiliating. Especially in front of friends, or worse, girls. Operation: No More Smooches is designed to establish a Kiss-Free Zone around my personal space. We will achieve this through strategic avoidance, vocal protest, and if necessary, tactical deployment of the S.A.B. as a plush barrier.

No More Smooches - War Journal - Entry Day 7

Right. Day Seven. Officially one week into Operation: No More Smooches (SNTS). Codename: Liberty Bell. My personal liberty, that is, from the Smoochinator’s… attacks. Ugh. Just writing it down makes my stomach do a weird flip-flop. It’s like when you go over a big wave on your boogie board and your insides try to swap places with your outsides. Only, instead of salt water in your nose, it’s… slobbery dad-kisses. Shudder.

Captain Calico – Chief Morale Officer and resident feline genius in charge of purr-suasion – is currently perched on my desk lamp, tail twitching like a comm antenna. “Status report, Lieutenant Cyrus,” he meows, which is actually more like a silent head tilt but we all know what he means. Barny Bear, Head of Security and general muscle, is guarding the door. He’s got this serious frown stitched onto his face, even though he’s a bear and bears don’t really frown. But you get the vibe. Randy Rabbit, Reconnaissance and master of intel, is probably outside right now, ears twitching, gathering intel on Smoochinator movements. Penelope Panda, Communications and Emotional Support – well, she’s just being Penelope. Soft, cuddly, and smelling faintly of lavender laundry detergent thanks to Mom. She’s here for moral support in case things get… intense. Which they probably will.

Yesterday was… a near breach. Smoochinator almost got me at breakfast. He came in all sneaky-like, pretending to read the newspaper – which is just a paper version of the internet, totally old school – and then BAM! He lunged. Lucky for me, Randy Rabbit had flagged his approach early, reporting unusual rustling sounds from the kitchen zone. I deployed the S.A.B. – Stuffed Animal Barrier – strategically positioning Barny Bear between me and the Smoochinator. Barny took the brunt of the impact. Smoochinator just ruffled Barny’s fur and laughed that laugh of his. Ugh, the worst. The laugh that means, “I’m going to get you eventually, you little squirt.”

It’s not even about the kisses, okay? It’s about the principle. I'm NINE. Nine years old! Not a baby anymore. I can tie my own shoes, I can almost beat level three on ‘Space Invaders 4000’, and I can definitely tell when a kiss is a genuine, ‘hey-you’re-amazing’ kind of kiss from Mom, and when it’s a ‘you’re-still-my-tiny-adorable-baby-even-though-you’re-practically-taller-than-Grandma’ kind of kiss from Dad. The Smoochinator’s kisses are definitely the second kind. And they’re PUBLIC. Mortifyingly public.

Take yesterday afternoon. Darlene, Pasco, and Benny were over. We were building the ultimate sandcastle fortress on the beach – complete with seaweed drawbridge and clam shell battlements. It was epic. Right when we were crowning it with a driftwood flag, guess who shows up? The Smoochinator, with John B and Pope in tow. Operation: Choose Kisses – Dad Edition, clearly in full swing.

John B, of course, is just as bad as my dad. Always grinning, always joking. Pope is a bit more serious, but even he gets dragged into their Dad-Brain schemes. It’s like they have a secret Dad Language we kids can’t understand. It probably involves BBQ sauce and power tools and… shoulder pats. Definitely shoulder pats.

Anyway, Smoochinator and his Dad Squad stroll up. “Hey, kiddo,” Dad says, all loud and booming like he’s announcing the end of the world. “Looking good, buddy! Come here, give your old man some sugar!”

Sugar. He calls it sugar. It’s not sugar. It’s tactical warfare disguised as affection.

I immediately activated SNTS Protocol 3: Strategic Evasion. I ducked behind Darlene’s impressive sand tower – she builds like a sand architect, seriously – and yelled, “No smooches! Operation: Liberty Bell is in effect!”

Darlene, Pasco, and Benny, bless their loyal hearts, immediately formed a human shield. Darlene even grabbed her bucket and shovel and stood ready to defend the Kiss-Free Zone. Pasco, bless his literal mind, shouted, “Liberty Bell? I thought it was called Say No To Smooches?”

Benny, ever the pragmatist, just whispered, “Dude, run!”

I tried to run. But Smoochinator is surprisingly fast for an almost-forty-year-old. He’s like a dad-missile, locked onto his target. He scooped me up – undignified scoop, I might add – and before I could deploy Barny Bear (who’d been assigned beach patrol detail and was lagging behind), he planted one right on my cheek. Loud. Sloppy. The works.

John B and Pope were laughing. Darlene, Pasco, and Benny were making gagging noises – which, okay, was maybe a little much, but I appreciated the solidarity. Mom, who was reading her book a little ways away, just sighed and shook her head. She’s officially neutral in this war. Switzerland, basically. She says it’s “cute”. Cute! This is not cute! This is a violation of personal space and childhood dignity!

Later, after the Dad Squad retreated to, I don’t know, Dad Headquarters or something, I had a strategy meeting in my fort. Captain Calico paced back and forth on the blanket fort roof, looking very presidential. Randy Rabbit reported that the Smoochinator and his allies were last seen at the ice cream shop, possibly refueling for further attacks. Barny Bear suggested a preemptive plush barrage – just launching a bunch of stuffed animals at them. Penelope Panda reminded us to stay calm and focused.

We decided on a new tactic. Operation: Decoy. Tomorrow, Operation: Decoy will commence. The plan is to use Randy Rabbit as a… well, a decoy. Randy will lead the Smoochinator on a wild goose chase around the neighborhood while I, Darlene, Pasco, and Benny fortify the actual Kiss-Free Zone – my room, my fort, basically anywhere I might be.

It’s risky. Randy Rabbit is brave, but he’s just a stuffed bunny. He can’t actually outrun the Smoochinator. But he can be distracting. He’s very cunning, that rabbit. And he’s got those long ears for listening in on enemy communications.

Mom came in just now, looking all… mediating. “Cyrus, honey,” she said, in her ‘calm-down-before-you-explode’ voice. “Maybe you should talk to your dad? Maybe he doesn’t realize how much you… dislike these kisses.”

Dislike? Dislike is putting broccoli on my pizza. This is a full-blown existential crisis disguised as affection!

“Mom,” I said, trying to sound grown-up and serious. “This is a matter of principle. Operation: No More Smooches is non-negotiable. The Kiss-Free Zone will be established. Peace will be achieved. But only on my terms.”

Mom just smiled that smile of hers. The one that means, “You’re just like your father, you stubborn little thing.” Which, okay, maybe I am a little bit like him. Stubborn, I mean. Not kissy. Never kissy.

She ruffled my hair – regular hair ruffling, not kiss-adjacent hair ruffling – and said, “Just… try not to start World War Three, okay? It’s almost dinner time.”

World War Three? This is way past World War Three, Mom. This is… the Smooch Wars. And I, Lieutenant Cyrus, am determined to win. For the sake of all nine-year-olds everywhere. And for my own personal cheek dignity.

Operation: Decoy commences tomorrow. Wish us luck. Or, you know, tactical advantage. Whatever works. Over and out.

(End Entry Day 7)

(Start Entry Day 8 - Operation: Decoy)

Okay, Operation: Decoy is… complicated. It started well. Randy Rabbit, bless his cotton tail, was magnificent. We launched him at precisely 0800 hours – right when Smoochinator usually stumbles out of the kitchen, coffee in hand, looking for morning kiss targets.

Randy, armed with a tiny walkie-talkie (Penelope Panda’s idea, brilliant as always), hopped into action. Darlene, Pasco, and Benny created a diversion – a ‘fake emergency’ involving a rogue frisbee stuck in Mr. Henderson’s ridiculously tall palm tree next door. Mr. Henderson, who is basically deaf and thinks squirrels are plotting against him, is easily distracted.

While Smoochinator was dealing with the ‘frisbee emergency’ (which was actually just Benny throwing a frisbee near the palm tree and pretending to be very upset), Randy Rabbit, according to his intel updates via walkie-talkie, successfully infiltrated the Smoochinator’s zone of influence. He left a trail of carrot sticks (Randy’s preferred method of sabotage) leading towards… the bait.

The bait was John B’s surfboard. John B is obsessed with surfing. His surfboard is basically his baby. We figured Smoochinator would follow Randy to protect John B’s precious board. And it worked!

Randy led Smoochinator on a merry chase down to the beach, weaving through beach chairs and towel-laying tourists. I could hear Randy’s panicked squeaks over the walkie-talkie – “He’s gaining! He’s gaining! Deploying evasive maneuvers… zig-zag pattern initiated!”

Meanwhile, back at HQ (my bedroom), Darlene, Pasco, Benny and I were fortifying the Kiss-Free Zone. We built a mega-fort using every blanket and pillow in the house. We even used Yn’s yoga mat as extra wall reinforcement. It was impenetrable. Or so we thought.

That’s when disaster struck. Or, more accurately, when Pope struck. Pope is the brains of the Dad Squad. He’s sneaky smart. While Smoochinator was distracted by Randy Rabbit and the ‘surfboard emergency’ (which turned out to be Randy just sitting on John B’s board, looking ridiculously cute), Pope… went rogue.

Turns out, Pope had been observing our movements. He’d deduced Operation: Decoy. He’d even, I suspect, listened in on our walkie-talkie frequencies (Randy accidentally left it on!). Pope, the sneaky genius, bypassed the beach entirely. He circled around. He flanked us.

He showed up at the back door. Quietly. Like a ninja dad. Before we even knew what was happening, Pope was inside.

“Surprise!” he yelled, in a not-very-surprising-but-still-terrifying way. He had a water pistol. Filled with… something sticky. I think it was juice. Or maybe… diluted pancake syrup? Dad-weaponry is truly terrifying.

Chaos erupted. Darlene screamed. Pasco threw a pillow. Benny tried to reason with Pope, which was like trying to reason with a rogue lawnmower. I dove into the mega-fort, yelling, “Kiss-Free Zone breached! Kiss-Free Zone BREACHED!”

Pope, laughing like a maniac, started spraying us with the sticky syrup-juice. It wasn’t even about kisses anymore. It was about… stickiness. The ultimate humiliation.

Then, Smoochinator arrived. He’d apparently realized Randy Rabbit was a decoy (clever rabbit, but not that clever). He and John B showed up at the front door. We were surrounded.

“Operation: Choose Kisses – Phase Two!” Smoochinator announced gleefully. He was holding… a feather duster. A feather duster! For tickling! Dads are masters of psychological warfare.

We were trapped. Outnumbered. Out-sticky-juiced. And about to be tickled into submission by a feather duster. It was… a strategic defeat. A tactical disaster of epic proportions.

The Smoochinator got me. Cheek-pinch. Loud kiss. The works. John B got Darlene (a slightly less slobbery kiss, thankfully). Pope got Pasco (on the forehead, which is marginally less humiliating). And Benny… Benny somehow escaped. He’s like the James Bond of nine-year-olds. Disappeared into thin air.

Later, covered in sticky syrup-juice and slightly traumatized by the feather duster incident, I had another strategy meeting. Captain Calico looked defeated. Barny Bear was covered in syrup-juice too. Randy Rabbit, bless his heart, looked genuinely sorry. Penelope Panda offered comfort hugs.

“Operation: Decoy… failed,” I mumbled, feeling like the worst tactical commander ever.

Captain Calico shook his head (silent head shake, but still meaningful). “It was a valiant effort, Lieutenant Cyrus. But the enemy… they are formidable. We need… a new strategy.”

And he’s right. Operation: No More Smooches can’t rely on decoys alone. We need… something bigger. Something bolder. Something… unexpected.

I’ve got an idea brewing. It’s risky. It’s… slightly insane. But it might just work.

Tomorrow… we launch Operation: Counter-Smooch. Prepare for the unexpected, Smoochinator. Prepare for the… retaliatory giggle attack. This war… is far from over.

(End Entry Day 8)

 Operation No More Smooches - War Journal - Entry Day 9

0700 Hours. Situation Room – My Bedroom.

Captain Calico is perched on my desk lamp, tail twitching. Barny Bear is guarding the door, a slightly deflated look adding to his usual grumpy face after JJ tried to use him as a 'fluffy distraction' yesterday (didn't work, Barny is too hardcore for that). Randy Rabbit is currently on recon, ears twitching at the window, monitoring enemy movements. Penelope Panda is… well, Penelope is being Penelope, offering comforting head-pats to everyone because apparently, even war is stressful for a panda.

Day Nine. They thought we’d crack by now. The Smoochinator and his Pogue Posse. They’ve been observing our picket line from across the living room, lounging on the couch like they’re watching some kind of terrible reality TV show. John B keeps making these dramatic yawning noises, and Pope is constantly checking his phone, pretending to be bored. But I see them. I see the twitch in JJ’s grin, the way his eyes are always scanning for a weakness in our defenses. They’re waiting for us to slip up. Waiting for me to slip up.

Fat chance.

0800 Hours. Breakfast Front – Kitchen.

Mom – codename: Kindred Spirit – is trying to maintain neutrality. She’s all smiles and sunshine, making pancakes like nothing is amiss, but I can see the amusement dancing in her eyes. She knows what’s going on. She’s probably even placing bets.

The Smoochinator tried his usual morning ambush. He came in all casual, whistling some stupid tune, pretending to reach for the syrup. Classic Smoochinator maneuver. But Randy Rabbit’s intel was solid. We were ready.

As he leaned in, dimples blazing like warning signals, I deployed the S.A.B. – Stuffed Animal Brigade – in a swift, coordinated movement. Captain Calico to the left flank, Barny Bear central command, Penelope Panda shielding my… well, my panda-shielded zone. Randy Rabbit executed a daring leap onto my shoulder, ears acting as early-warning radar.

The Smoochinator recoiled like he’d touched a hot stove. “Woah there, Cyrus! You gonna introduce me to your… friends?” He tried to sound all innocent, but his eyes were sparkling with mischief.

“This is the Defensive Perimeter,” I stated, voice firm and clear, projecting for maximum Pogue Posse audience impact. “And it is currently enforcing a Kiss-Free Zone.”

John B snorted a laugh from the couch. “Kiss-Free Zone? Dude, you made that up.”

“Affirmative, John B,” Captain Calico spoke for me (telepathically, obviously, he’s a highly trained operative). “And it is non-negotiable.”

Okay, maybe I spoke for Captain Calico. But the point stands.

Breakfast was tense. The Smoochinator kept trying to ‘accidentally’ brush against me, feigning stumbles and reaching for things just behind my head. Each time, the S.A.B and I held firm. Pancakes were consumed under maximum alert conditions.

1000 Hours. Negotiation Attempt – Living Room.

The Smoochinator unleashed his first real tactic of the day. He sent in the… Envoys of Enticement. Kiara and Sarah.

Kiara, with her sunshine smile and those eyes that can make you confess to anything (almost), sat next to me on the beanbag. Sarah perched on the armrest, all cool and confident.

“Hey, Cyrus,” Kiara started, voice all soft and friendly. “We were just wondering… about this… protest thing.”

“Operation: No More Smooches,” I corrected. “It’s not a ‘thing’. It’s a matter of facial sovereignty.”

Sarah chuckled. “Facial sovereignty?” She exchanged a look with Kiara, like I’d just spoken in dolphin language.

“Yeah,” I said, leaning back against Penelope Panda for moral support. “My face. My rules. No unwanted smooches.”

Kiara tried a different angle. “But… your Dad, he just loves you, right? It’s just his way of showing it.”

“Love doesn’t require cheek-pinching and slobbering. Love requires respect for personal space,” Barny Bear growled from my lap (okay, I growled, Barny’s more of a silent grunt type).

Sarah leaned forward, her voice dropping a notch, like she was sharing a secret. “Look, Cyrus, maybe… maybe your Dad is just missing those kisses. Maybe he’s… sad.”

“Sad? The Smoochinator? He’s got dimples that could launch a thousand ships of affection. He’s not sad. He’s manipulative.” Randy Rabbit tapped his foot impatiently (again, me, but Randy would tap his foot). “This is a ploy. A thinly veiled attempt to breach our defenses by appealing to… sentimentality.”

I looked at Kiara and Sarah. They were trying. I could see it in their eyes. They genuinely thought they were helping. But they didn’t understand. This wasn’t just about kisses. It was about principle.

“Tell The Smoochinator,” I said, voice steely, “that Operation: No More Smooches is not negotiable. Not for pancakes, not for puppy dog eyes, and definitely not for sentimental pleas.”

Kiara and Sarah exchanged another look, this time a slightly impressed one. They shrugged, defeated but not entirely unhappy. “Alright, dude,” Kiara said, standing up. “We tried. But… good luck with the facial sovereignty thing.”

As they walked away, I saw The Smoochinator watching from the kitchen doorway, a frustrated look on his face. Operation: Negotiation Deflection – Success.

1400 Hours. Skirmish in Sector: Backyard.

The Pogues got bolder. They started ‘accidentally’ kicking balls near me while I was building my epic sandcastle fortress (codename: Fort Resistance). Pope ‘misaimed’ a frisbee. John B pretended to trip and ‘fall’ in my direction.

Classic diversion tactics. But I’m no rookie.

Randy Rabbit predicted these maneuvers. We’d reinforced Fort Resistance with strategically placed moats (puddle depressions) and deployed Captain Calico as a purr-iscope for early enemy detection.

Each ‘accident’ was met with swift and decisive action. A well-aimed sand projectile from Penelope Panda (surprisingly accurate for a panda) deflected the frisbee. A perfectly timed roll away from John B’s ‘trip’ prevented impact. And Barny Bear, in a daring maneuver, ‘accidentally’ tripped Pope as he ‘misaimed’ another ball. (Okay, maybe Barny tripped Pope. Barny takes his security duties very seriously.)

The Smoochinator watched, his grin slowly fading. He was starting to realize this wasn’t going to be as easy as he thought.

1700 Hours. Intelligence Breach – Dockside Rendezvous.

This is where things got… complicated.

Randy Rabbit, on routine reconnaissance near the docks, reported unusual activity. Me – I mean, Randy – observed me talking to… Kooks. Real, actual, Figure Eight Kooks.

I was just making a deal, okay? Mr. Henderson from the mega-mansion down the beach had offered me five whole dollars – five! – to ‘critique’ his son’s sandcastle. Five dollars could fund Operation: No More Smooches for a week. Plus, intelligence gathering. Kooks know things. Rich people secrets, maybe even Smoochinator weaknesses.

But John B saw. From across the dock. He squinted, then his eyes widened, and he sprinted back towards the house like he’d seen a ghost.

1715 Hours. Code Red – Living Room Lockdown.

The Smoochinator exploded.

“CYRUS MAYBANK, GET IN HERE RIGHT NOW!”

His voice boomed through the house, rattling the windows. Even Captain Calico flinched.

I marched into the living room, S.A.B. flanking me, bracing for impact. John B and Pope were standing behind JJ, looking all grim and serious. Like this was some kind of international crisis.

“What,” I said, trying to sound nonchalant, but my voice maybe squeaked a little.

“Kooks, Cyrus? Kooks?” JJ’s face was red. His dimples were gone, replaced by angry creases. “You’re dealing with Kooks now? After everything we stand for? After everything I’ve taught you?”

“I was just… negotiating,” I mumbled, shuffling my feet. “For intel. And five dollars.”

“Five dollars?” JJ threw his hands up in the air. “You’re selling out Operation: No More Smooches for five measly dollars? And to the enemy?”

“They’re not the enemy! They’re just… strategically valuable information sources,” Randy Rabbit squeaked (definitely me this time, my voice was cracking).

“No Kooks, Cyrus! I forbid it! Operation: No More Smooches is over. Right now. You are to cease and desist all protest activities immediately. And you’re going to give your old man a hug and a kiss, right here, right now!”

He lunged. Dimples re-engaged, weapons fully charged.

But I stood my ground. “Negative, Smoochinator. Operation: No More Smooches is not over. It’s just… entering a new phase.”

1800 Hours. Unexpected Alliance – Front Porch.

Belinda. Belinda from next door, who’s like, sixteen and way cooler than anyone I know. She was sitting on her porch swing, watching the whole backyard skirmish earlier. And now, she called me over.

“Hey, Cyrus,” she said, all casual, like she wasn’t about to drop a major tactical bomb. “Your dad’s gonna try the ‘Tickle Torture’ maneuver tonight, just FYI.”

“Tickle Torture?” I repeated, confused. “That’s… that’s not even in the Field Manual of Annoying Dad Tactics.”

Belinda just shrugged. “He used it on my little brother last week. Worked like a charm. Just… thought you should know.” She winked. “Consider it… intel sharing.”

Intel. From Belinda. This was huge. This changed everything.

2000 Hours. Situation Room – My Bedroom. Emergency Strategy Session.

Captain Calico, Barny Bear, Randy Rabbit, and Penelope Panda are gathered around the map of the house (drawn in crayon on a paper plate). We’re revising the defensive perimeter, reinforcing tickle-sensitive zones, and preparing Operation: Counter-Tickle.

Belinda's intel is a game changer. We’re not just defending against kisses anymore. We’re facing… enhanced interrogation techniques.

But we are ready. We are prepared. Operation: No More Smooches will prevail. For facial sovereignty. For personal space. For the right to walk through the living room without being ambushed by dimples.

Day Nine. The war is far from over. In fact, it feels like it’s just getting started. And this time… it’s personal.

Operation: No More Smooches – War Journal: Day Ten

Entry 10.1 – 0700 Hours – Situation Report

Ten days. Ten days we’ve been at war. Ten days of relentless Smoochinator attacks. Command has officially declared this a prolonged siege. Morale is… complicated. On the surface, the troops are holding strong, fueled by righteous fury and the sweet, sweet taste of Kook support. But beneath the bravado, I detect… cracks.

Randy Rabbit,  is jumpy. He keeps twitching his nose and muttering about “enemy advancements in cheek-pinching technology.” Penelope Panda, Communications, is mostly cuddly and supportive, but even she’s started suggesting “peace talks.” Peace talks! With The Smoochinator?! Unacceptable.

Captain Calico, remains steadfast. He sits perched on my dresser, tail twitching with disapproval at the mere mention of surrender. Barny Bear, just grunts and sharpens his (metaphorical) claws. They get it. They understand the stakes. This isn't just about kisses. This is about respect. This is about freedom. This is about… not being a baby anymore!

Breakfast was a tense affair. My dad – The Smoochinator – was radiating false cheer, humming some ridiculous tune about sunshine and rainbows. Mom – our negotiator in residence – kept sending me these looks. The kind that says, “Cyrus, honey, isn’t this getting a little… much?” Much?! Mom, you don’t understand! This is a matter of principle! Plus, Belinda saw him kiss me yesterday – yesterday! – and she giggled. Giggled! It was a tactical disaster.

Entry 10.2 – 1000 Hours – Enemy Reinforcements

Disaster has struck again. Intel from Randy Rabbit confirms it: Enemy reinforcements have arrived. John B and Pope. I repeat, John B and Pope are now actively supporting The Smoochinator. Dads stick together, right? Traitorous dads, that’s what they are.

They showed up while I was fortifying my bedroom – strategically placing Barny Bear landmines around the door and setting up a Randy Rabbit tripwire alarm system (fishing line and a bell, genius, right?). They were all grinning like hyenas, those three. Pope even had water balloons. Water balloons! Are they escalating to chemical warfare now?

“Hey, Cyrus!” John B boomed, his voice way too loud. “Heard you’re giving JJ a hard time!”

“He deserves it!” I yelled back, positioning Penelope Panda as a soft shield. “He’s a kiss-crazed maniac!”

Pope chuckled. “Come on, dude, it’s just a kiss.”

“Just a kiss?!” I almost choked on my own indignation. “It’s not just a kiss! It’s a declaration of babyhood! It’s an invasion of personal space! It’s… it’s humiliating!”

JJ, leaning against the doorframe with that infuriating dimpled grin, chimed in, “Aw, come on, Cy. Don’t be such a grump. It’s just Dad-love!” He winked at John B and Pope. Dad-love. Weaponized Dad-love, more like.

They launched a water balloon barrage. Tactical retreat was necessary. I barricaded myself inside, Captain Calico and Barny Bear flanking me on the bed, Randy Rabbit providing perimeter surveillance from the window. This is getting serious.

Entry 10.3 – 1400 Hours – Sabotage and Counter-Sabotage

My counter-offensive is underway. Operation: Annoyance is a go. If The Smoochinator wants to play dirty, so can I.

Phase one: The Remote Control Gambit. I “accidentally” switched the TV remote to Spanish when he was trying to watch his precious surfing documentary. He sputtered and swore in fake Spanish for a good five minutes. Small victory, but satisfying.

Phase two: The Sneaky Sock Swap. I infiltrated his laundry basket and replaced all his matching socks with… mismatched socks! Ha! Let him face the world with mismatched sock shame! Penelope Panda felt a bit bad about this one. She’s too soft, that panda. But Captain Calico approved. “Necessary sacrifices in war,” he purred sagely.

Phase three (in progress): Operation: Lost Keys. His car keys. They are currently… misplaced. Randy Rabbit is on the case. We suspect they are hidden somewhere amongst his… organized chaos of a toolbox.

However, The Smoochinator is not easily defeated. He retaliated. Hard.

His counter-sabotage was… kisses. Of course. He snuck up on me while I was meticulously planning Operation: Lost Keys in the living room. One minute I was strategizing, the next – BAM! – he swooped in. Loud smooch on the cheek, hair ruffled, the whole shebang. “Just checking in on my favorite little strategist!” he boomed, loud enough for Mom to hear from the kitchen. Strategist! He’s mocking me!

And then, the ultimate humiliation. He started singing. Singing! That awful, off-key song he makes up, the one about “Cyrus the Virus, cutest little boy in the world.” It’s designed to make me cringe. It works. I fled to my room, face burning, the echoes of his ridiculous song ringing in my ears. This is psychological warfare!

Entry 10.4 – 1700 Hours – The Park Debacle

Mom, bless her heart, tried to mediate. She called a “family meeting.” Which basically meant she sat us both down at the kitchen table and tried to talk sense into us.

“JJ,” she started, her voice calm and reasonable, “honey, maybe the kisses are… a little much for Cyrus right now?”

The Smoochinator put on his wounded puppy dog face. “But Yn! It’s just affection! He’s growing up so fast! I just want him to know I love him!” He directed that dimpled weapon of mass affection right at me. I glared.

“Dad, it’s embarrassing!” I practically yelled. “I’m not a baby anymore! Stop treating me like one!”

Yn sighed. “Cyrus, honey, your dad doesn’t think you’re a baby. He just… he loves you. Maybe you could meet him halfway? Like… maybe one kiss a day? A small, quick kiss?”

One kiss a day?! That’s still 365 kisses a year! Unacceptable terms of surrender!

“No!” I stood my ground. “Kiss-Free Zone! That’s the only way!”

JJ threw his hands up in mock surrender. “Fine, fine, Kiss-Free Zone. But don’t come crying to me when you miss my smooches!” He winked. Winked! He’s enjoying this!

Yn, looking defeated, suggested we all go to the park “to blow off steam.” Bad idea. Very bad idea. Especially because… Belinda was there.

She was on the swings with her friends. I was trying to look cool, practicing skateboard tricks (mostly falling, but looking cool doing it!), when The Smoochinator decided to strike. Again.

He walked right up to Belinda and her friends. My blood ran cold.

“Hey there, ladies!” he boomed, way too friendly. “You know my son, Cyrus, right? This little rascal?” He clapped me on the back, almost sending me sprawling.

Belinda and her friends giggled. One of them, Tiffany, I think, actually smirked at me.

“Yeah, hi Cyrus,” Belinda said, trying not to laugh.

And then, The Smoochinator dropped the bomb. The baby story bomb.

“You know, when Cyrus was a baby,” he said, drawing out the word “baby” like it was some kind of delicious treat, “he used to have this little… thing…” He lowered his voice dramatically. “He wouldn’t go to sleep unless I sang him this ridiculously silly song and rocked him in my arms. Every. Single. Night.” He chuckled, all fond and affectionate. “Big tough guy now, huh?” He ruffled my hair again.

My face was hotter than a summer sidewalk. I wanted to disappear. Vanish. Become one with the playground equipment. Belinda and her friends were practically doubled over with laughter. Tiffany was pointing at me and saying, “Baby Cyrus! Baby Cyrus!”

I wanted to punch something. Preferably The Smoochinator’s dimpled face.

I mumbled something about needing to “practice my ollies” and skated away as fast as I could, abandoning Operation: Cool Skateboard Guy and retreating to the relative safety of the sandbox, which suddenly felt like the only safe place in the entire world.

Entry 10.5 – 2000 Hours – Internal Conflict and Future Strategies

Back in my room, surrounded by my plush command team, the park debacle is still replaying in my head. Baby Cyrus. He called me Baby Cyrus in front of Belinda.

Captain Calico is trying to be reassuring. “Tactical retreat is sometimes necessary to regroup and reassess,” he’s saying in his serious, take-charge voice.

Barny Bear is grunting and flexing his plush biceps, suggesting brute force. “We attack their base! Operation: Tickle Torture!”

Randy Rabbit, ever the pragmatist, is whispering about diplomacy again. “Maybe… maybe a temporary ceasefire? Just to… re-evaluate the situation?”

Penelope Panda just gave me a soft hug. She’s good at hugs.

But none of them understand. It’s not just about the embarrassment in front of Belinda, though that was bad. Really, really bad. It’s… it’s about everything.

I do remember him rocking me. I do remember him singing that stupid song. And… and a tiny, secret part of me… misses it. Misses being that little. Misses feeling that safe and loved and completely taken care of.

But I can’t be that little boy anymore. Not if I want to be… cool. Not if I want to be… friends with Belinda. Not if I want to be… big. Everyone else seems so big. John B and Pope, they’re practically giants. Even Belinda’s friends seem older, cooler.

I feel… small. Like I need to prove something. To everyone. To Belinda, to my friends, even… to Dad. I need to show him I’m not a baby anymore. That I’m… independent. That I can handle things myself.

That’s why the kisses bug me so much. They remind me of being small. Of being taken care of. Of being… a baby. And I’m not a baby!

But… but maybe… maybe he’s right. Maybe it is just Dad-love. And maybe… maybe a little part of me still likes it. The secret part. The part I can’t show anyone.

No. No surrender. Operation: No More Smooches continues. For freedom. For respect. For… proving I’m not a baby. Even if… even if deep down, a tiny little part of me still kind of… wants a kiss.

But no one can ever know that. Especially not The Smoochinator.

Tomorrow, we escalate. Operation: Lost Keys becomes Operation: Car Wash Sabotage. And maybe… maybe I’ll “accidentally” spill something sticky on his favorite surfing magazine.

This war… this war isn’t over yet. Not by a long shot.

Day Eleven. Operation: No More Smooches. Still Active.

This is getting ridiculous. Utterly, totally, galaxy-brain level ridiculous. Day freaking eleven. Eleven days I’ve been in tactical retreat mode. Eleven days of dodging, weaving, and deploying the Strategic Animal Brigade (S.A.B.) at every turn. Eleven days since ‘The Smoochinator’ initiated his campaign of utter and complete kiss-based terror.

Captain Calico, is looking frayed. Literally. Penelope Panda, has lost some fluff from frantic radio transmissions (mostly panicked squeaks when The Smoochinator gets within a five-foot radius). Barny Bear, is slumped against the pillow fort, his usual brass button eyes looking dull. Even Randy Rabbit, isn’t hopping with his usual enthusiasm for intel gathering. Morale is… low.

And it’s all because of him. The Smoochinator. He's relentless. Like a… like a really annoying, slobbery, dimpled honey badger. He just doesn’t give up. He thinks this is some kind of… game? Some kind of… affection Olympics where he wins a gold medal for most humiliating fatherly contact? I swear, sometimes I think he enjoys my suffering.

Today was… well, today was a new low even for him. We were at the ice cream shop, right? Me and… and Belinda. Belinda freaking Rodriguez. Okay, okay, deep breaths, Captain Calico says calm is key. Belinda, who has hair like actual sunshine, and laughs at my jokes – even the really bad ones – was there. We were talking about… about… surfboards. Important stuff. And then, BAM.

The Smoochinator materializes. Like he’s teleported straight out of a dad-joke dimension. "Well, well, well, if it isn’t my favorite dude and… a friend!” he says, all loud and booming, dimples flashing like police sirens. A friend. Belinda is right there. And he calls her a friend. Major tactical blunder, Dad, major.

But it gets worse. Oh, it gets monumentally, cosmically, galaxy-endingly worse.

He swoops in. Before I can even deploy Randy as a distraction, before Penelope can issue a distress call, before Barny can even growl – he does it. The Smoochinator attack. Full force. Right in front of Belinda.

“Look at you, kiddo! Growing like a weed!” he booms, grabs my face in his giant hands – hands that are way too strong for casual face-grabbing, by the way – and plants one. Not just any kiss. Oh no. This is a Level Five Smoochinator Special. Loud. Wet. Cheek-pinching. And accompanied by the dreaded words: “My goodness, you’re getting so big!”

Belinda giggles. Giggles! My face is burning hotter than the asphalt parking lot in July. I think I mumbled something that sounded vaguely like ‘traitor’ at Randy Rabbit who just twitched his nose apologetically from my backpack.

After Belinda left – after she said “It was nice meeting your… dad,” with a little smile that might have been sympathetic, or might have been… pity? I’m not sure I want to analyze that too closely – I unleashed the full fury of Operation: No More Smooches back at Smoochinator HQ (aka, our beach house).

“Seriously, Dad! What was that? In front of Belinda? You totally ruined everything!”

He just grins that infuriating grin. “Ruined everything? Relax, buddy. Just showing a little dad-love.”

“Dad-love? Dad-torture, more like! I’m nine! Nine years old! I don’t need slobbery kisses in front of… people!”

“Whoa, whoa, easy there, soldier,” he says, still grinning. “It’s just a kiss, Cyrus. It’s what dads do.”

“Well, you need to… to un-do it! The protest still stands strong- even if it takes forever!”

He just laughs. A big, booming, annoying laugh that bounces off the walls and makes Captain Calico’s monocle wobble. “Forever is a long time, kiddo. You sure about that?”

“Yes! Positive! One hundred percent! Operation: No More Smooches is still in full effect!”

And here we are. Evening now. The sun’s starting to dip into the ocean, painting the sky all kinds of crazy colors. Mom, is trying to mediate. She’s been good at that all through this fight. She’s all calm and reasonable and… well, peacemaker-y.

“JJ, honey, maybe Cyrus does have a point…” she started, her voice gentle as always.

The Smoochinator just shrugged, still that grin plastered on his face. “He’s being dramatic, Yn. Kids go through phases. He’ll get over it.”

“It’s not a phase!” I yelled, fists clenched. Barny Bear gave my hand a reassuring nudge with his plush paw. “It’s… it’s a matter of principle! And… and dignity!”

Even Penelope Panda chimed in then, her sweet little voice a bit shaky, “Maybe… maybe we could all just… take a break? Operation: No More Smooches has been… very tiring.” Randy Rabbit nodded in agreement, his ears drooping. Captain Calico, bless his cotton socks, straightened his monocle and stood tall, but even he looked a little weary.

They’re all tired. They want to call a truce. They want to go back to normal. But I can’t. I won’t. This isn’t just about kisses anymore. It’s about… about being taken seriously. About being seen as… as older. As… someone who doesn’t need… that.

“Nope,” I said, my voice maybe a little shaky but firm. “Operation: No More Smooches is still a go. We can’t back down now.”

The S.A.B. sighed, a collective plush sigh. Yn gave me a small, understanding smile. But The Smoochinator just… looked at me. Really looked at me. And his grin… it faded. Just a little.

“Alright, Cyrus,” he said, his voice suddenly lower, serious. “Alright. If you want to protest, we’ll protest.” He sat down on the porch steps, leaning back against the railing, looking out at the ocean. I stayed put, a few feet away, the S.A.B. arrayed in front of me like a furry, slightly deflated barricade.

Silence stretched between us, filled only by the sound of the waves crashing and the distant cries of seagulls. It was… weird. Usually, he’d be cracking jokes, or making silly faces, or trying to tickle me into submission. But now… nothing. Just silence. And him, staring out at the horizon.

Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore. “Why?” I blurted out. “Why do you… why do you have to kiss me all the time? Like that?”

He didn’t turn around. Just kept staring at the ocean. “Because,” he said, his voice quiet, “it’s my job.”

“Your job?” I scoffed. “Kissing me is your job?”

“Yeah,” he said, still looking out at the waves. “My job is to be your dad. And part of being your dad is… kissing you. Showing you… you know.”

“Showing me what?” I asked, confused. Penelope Panda edged closer, offering a soft paw for comfort.

He finally turned to look at me then. And his eyes… they weren’t grinning anymore. They were… soft. Weirdly soft. “Showing you I love you, squirt.”

“But… you say it,” I mumbled, kicking at a loose stone on the porch. “You say ‘I love you’ all the time.”

“Yeah, I do,” he said. “But saying it… and showing it… they’re different things, kid.”

“But… the kisses are… embarrassing,” I said, the word feeling small and stupid in the quiet evening air.

He nodded slowly. “Yeah, I get that. They probably are. Especially now you’re getting bigger.”

And then, it happened. I don’t even know how. One minute I was standing there, feeling all tough and protest-y, and the next… I tripped. Just tripped over my own feet, like a total klutz. I stumbled forward, arms flailing, and… WHAM. I went down. Hard. My head smacked against something solid, something… rocky.

Pain exploded behind my eyes. Stars burst in my vision. And then… everything went blurry.

The next thing I knew, I was being lifted. Scooped up like I was… like I was little again. Strong arms around me, holding me tight. “Cyrus! Cyrus, buddy, you okay? Where are you hurt?”

It was him. The Smoochinator. But his voice… it wasn’t loud or booming or joking now. It was… scared. Actually scared.

He was checking me over, his hands surprisingly gentle as they touched my head, my face, my arms. “Where does it hurt, kiddo? Tell me.”

My head throbbed. Everything was still spinning a little. And… and… and then it just… came out. Everything. All the frustration, all the embarrassment, all the… everything.

Tears welled up in my eyes, hot and stinging. And I started to cry. Big, gulping, nine-year-old boy cries.

“It… it hurts,” I sobbed, pointing to the side of my head. “And… and the kisses… they’re… they’re stupid! They’re… babyish! I’m not a baby anymore!”

He just held me tighter, rocking me a little, like he used to when I was really little and got hurt. “Hey, hey, it’s okay, buddy. It’s okay. I got you.”

“No, you don’t!” I wailed, tears streaming down my face now. “You don’t get it! I’m trying to be… to be bigger! And you keep… you keep kissing me like… like I’m still… small!”

He held me close, and I could feel his hand stroking my hair, soft and slow. “I know, Cyrus. I know you’re trying to be bigger. And you are. You’re growing up so fast, it’s crazy. But… you’re still my kid. You’re still my little boy.”

“But I don’t want to be little anymore!” I cried, burying my face in his shoulder. “I want to be… like Belinda! Sixteen! Cool! Not… not kissed in public!”

He sighed, a long, soft sigh. “Hey, look at me, squirt.”

I sniffled and looked up at him, my eyes blurry with tears. His dimples were gone now. His face was serious, but… gentle.

“Listen,” he said, his voice low and steady. “I kiss you because… because I love you, Cyrus. Really, really love you. More than anything in the whole world. And… I’ve kissed you since you were a tiny little baby. Because… because that’s how I show you. That’s how I know you know. It’s… it’s just me being your dad, okay?”

I sniffed again, hiccuping a little. “But… it’s embarrassing.”

“I know,” he said again, his voice softer. “And… maybe I haven’t been thinking about that enough. Maybe… maybe I gotta… dial it back a little. In public. Okay?”

I nodded, still sniffling.

“But Cyrus,” he went on, his eyes searching mine. “Being a big boy… doesn’t mean you gotta reject love, okay? It doesn’t mean you gotta push me away. You can be big and brave and… and cool, and still let your old man give you a kiss. Sometimes. Just… maybe not… the full Smoochinator Special in front of your crush, huh?”

I managed a watery chuckle. “Yeah. Maybe not that.”

“And listen, kiddo,” he said, his voice getting serious again. “You’re never gonna stop being my little boy. Never. Even when you’re twenty five, and taller than me, and… and going on dates and stuff. You’ll always be my squirt. And… and you don’t have to be alone out there in the… in the world of adults, you know? You don’t have to face it all by yourself. I’m here. I’m always gonna be here. To help you. To protect you.”

He looked away for a second, his jaw tightening. “See, when I was your age… well, adults weren’t always… nice to me. I didn’t always trust them. But it’s gonna be different for you, Cyrus. I promise you that. I’m gonna protect you. And I’m always gonna be here for you. No matter what.”

He looked back at me, his blue eyes so intense. “Okay?”

I nodded again, feeling… lighter. The tears were starting to dry, and the throbbing in my head was easing a little. “Okay,” I whispered.

“Truce?” he asked, a tiny hint of a grin returning.

“Truce,” I agreed. Operation: No More Smooches… officially… suspended.

He smiled then, a real smile, the kind that crinkles the corners of his eyes. And then, before I could even brace myself, he did it. He leaned in and pressed a kiss to my cheek. But this time… it wasn’t loud. It wasn’t slobbery. It was… just a kiss. Warm. And… and… yeah, okay, maybe… maybe a little… nice.

And you know what? This time… I didn’t even flinch. In fact… I might have even… leaned into it a little. Just a little.

Maybe Operation: No More Smooches wasn't a total failure after all. Maybe it just… evolved. Maybe it became… Operation: Understanding Smooches. Yeah. That sounded… surprisingly okay.

Captain Calico, Barny Bear, Randy Rabbit and Penelope Panda all seemed to relax a little, the tension leaving their plush bodies. The war journal can officially record… a truce. And maybe… just maybe… a little bit of peace. And that, I realized, wasn’t so bad after all

Operation: No More Smooches – Final Log Entry. Day Who even knows?. Mission… Sort of Accomplished?

And that’s how Operation: No More Smooches ended. Not with a bang, or a Level Alpha Smooch, but with a… Level Beta Truce.

It’s the last day of the protest. And you know what? It’s… okay. More than okay, actually. Because underneath all the embarrassing smooches and the loud declarations and the dimpled attacks… is Dad. JJ Maybank. The Smoochinator. My dad.

He’s… he’s a mess sometimes. He’s impulsive, and loud, and he can be a total goofball. He burns toast more often than he makes it edible. He sings off-key in the shower at ear-splitting volume. He tells jokes that only he thinks are funny. He argues with the TV during football games. And yes, he smooches me way too much.

But he’s also… kind. He’s really kind. He’d give you the shirt off his back, even if it was his favorite band t-shirt, the one with the holes in it that Yn keeps threatening to throw away. He’s loyal. He’d fight a bear for me, probably. Okay, maybe not a real bear. But definitely a large, grumpy dog. He is funny. Even when his jokes are terrible, he’s still funny. He’s smart. He knows way more about the ocean and boats and fixing things than anyone I know. And he’s… he’s playful. He’s the one who taught me how to skip stones. He’s the one who builds epic sandcastles with me, even when the sun is scorching hot. He’s the one who still reads me bedtime stories, even though I told him I’m almost too old for them now. Almost.

And he loves me. He really, really loves me. Even if he shows it with… overly enthusiastic smooches sometimes.

So yeah, Operation: No More Smooches is officially over. The Kiss-Free Zone is… partially dismantled. Level Beta Smooches are authorized, with strict monitoring protocols in place. Captain Calico, Barny Bear, Randy Rabbit, and Penelope Panda are all being commended for their outstanding service. And I? I’m… I’m going to go find The Smoochinator. Maybe… maybe even initiate a hug. A Level Beta Hug. Just to show him that even though I need my space, and even though I'm totally serious about the Level Beta Smooches rule… I love him too.

Final mission log, signing off. Cyrus Maybank. Head of Strategic Operations. And… son. Grateful son. Even if his dad is a Smoochinator. A lovable, slightly embarrassing, but totally awesome Smoochinator. Now, to brief the S.A.B. on the new hug initiative. And maybe… just maybe… allow a small, Level Gamma Smooch. On the top of my head. If he’s really good. And if nobody’s watching.

Right then. Captain Calico, Barny Bear, Randy Rabbit, Penelope Panda – gather ‘round. Operation Meeting, final one. Grab your positions. Calico, you’re looking particularly serious today, even for you. Barny, stop flexing your… well, your fluff. And Randy, no twitching your nose at Penelope, it’s uncalled for. Penelope, you’re doing great, keeping morale high as always. Even if I was the one with plummeting morale after yesterday’s… incident with the surprise Level Alpha Smooch Attack during breakfast waffles. Waffles, people! You’re supposed to enjoy waffles in peace!

Anyway. Twelve days. Twelve long, smooch-dodging, strategic, and frankly, exhausting days. But we did it. We actually did it. Operation: No More Smooches is… well, it’s not a complete victory, I’ll admit. It’s not like Dad’s sworn off smooches forever, or signed some official treaty in crayon – though I did suggest that. He just laughed and ruffled my hair way too hard. But a Level Beta Truce? That’s something. That’s progress.

Randy Rabbit, you were right. Your reconnaissance was key. Those early morning smooch ambushes? Completely neutralized thanks to your intel. Barny Bear, your security detail around my face during potential smooch zones (like, you know, everywhere Dad can reach) was… mostly effective. Sometimes Dad’s just too fast. Like a smooch ninja. Captain Calico, your firm leadership and constant reminders of the Mission Objective – No. More. Smooches! – really kept us focused. And Penelope Panda, your emotional support was… fluffy. And sometimes helpful. Especially after the waffle incident.

But it’s the last day. And… and I’m not exactly… jumping for joy about it being over, if I’m being completely, logs-in-the-journal honest. Because Operation: No More Smooches… well, it was about the smooches, yeah. They’re embarrassing, okay? Especially in front of people. Like, if Pasco from school saw Dad Level Alpha Smooch me, I’d probably have to move to another state and change my name. Seriously.

But it was also… about getting Dad’s attention. Which sounds dumb, right? Because Dad gives me tons of attention. He’s always there. Always building some crazy Lego thing with me, or taking me surfing even when the waves are tiny and boring, or pretending to be a pirate captain on the inflatable dinghy in the shallow bit of the sound. He’s… present. I just really wanted him to understand my stance… my stance with growing up and the world in its overwhelming state sometimes.

It's just… sometimes he’s so much. Like a big, happy, sandy, salty Labrador puppy that just wants to lick your face all the time. And the smooches are like… the ultimate face lick. Except with more lip action. Which, again, embarrassing.

But underneath all the smooching, and the loud singing, and the questionable jokes, and the burnt toast mornings… is just Dad.  My Dad. And he’s… he’s pretty awesome actually.

Remember that time I lost Barny Bear at the pier? Total panic stations. Barny was MIA. Head of Security, gone! It was a Level Delta Emergency. I was convinced he’d fallen into the ocean, or been kidnapped by seagulls, or worse – run off with Randy Rabbit to join a secret bunny-bear spy ring. Mom was calm, like always. Said we’d find him. But Dad… Dad was a whirlwind. He was asking everyone, showing pictures on his phone (even though Barny is, you know, a bear), retracing our steps three times, even checking under the pier planks with a flashlight. He didn’t stop until he found Barny wedged between some fishing crates, looking slightly damp and offended. Dad didn’t even get mad at me for losing him. He just hugged me, and Barny, and said, “See? Told ya we’d find him, little man.”

And he calls me “little man.” Yeah, it’s cheesy. Yeah, sometimes I roll my eyes so hard I think they might get stuck. But… I kind of like it. It’s my cheesy nickname. And when he says it, it sounds… I don’t know… like I’m his most important little man in the whole world. Even more important than his fishing rods, or his surfboard, or even that beat-up old Pogue Life t-shirt he refuses to throw away. (Seriously, Yn has tried to “accidentally” shrink that thing in the wash like ten times. It’s indestructible).

He’s teaching me to sail. Proper sailing, not just the dinghy pirate stuff. He’s showing me how to read the currents, and the wind, and the clouds. He’s teaching me about the stars at night, when we lie on the dock and look up at the sky, and he tells me stories about constellations and pirates and lost treasures. He even lets me “help” fix the boat engine, which mostly involves handing him wrenches and trying not to drop them in the bilge water. He’s patient. Even when I ask “why” for the hundredth time about something engine-related. Okay, maybe the thousandth time.

And he always listens. Even when I’m telling him some long, complicated story about my latest Lego build, or some drama at school, or some super important discovery I made in the tide pools. He puts down whatever he’s doing, looks me right in the eyes with his own blue, dimpled eyes, and he really listens. Like what I have to say actually matters.

So… yeah. Operation: No More Smooches. It’s… temporarily suspended. Level Beta Truce. For now.

Because underneath all the… Dad-ness… is just love. Big, sloppy, sometimes embarrassing, kinda goofy, but real, honest love. The kind that makes you feel safe, and strong, and like you can take on the world, even if the world involves dodgeball in gym class and lima beans at dinner.

So, Captain Calico, Barny Bear, Randy Rabbit, Penelope Panda… Operation Meeting adjourned. Good work, team. We achieved… something. And I learned something too. That even though smooches are still on the “Needs Monitoring” list, and we’ll definitely be implementing Smooch Evasion Tactics 2.0 soon, maybe… maybe they’re not the worst thing in the world. Especially when they come from… Dad.

Final note: Level Beta Truce does not mean Smooch Surrender. Smooch Monitoring Protocols are still in effect. And if Level Alpha Smooch Attacks escalate again, Operation: No More Smooches will be reactivated. Consider this… a probationary truce. Dad is on notice. And I’m still Chief Strategist. Just… a slightly more… smooch-tolerant Chief Strategist. For now.

Cyrus M. Chief Strategist, Operation: No More Smooches (Temporarily on Truce). Son. (And… maybe… secretly… kinda… Dad’s little man.)

[sometimes-men-need-help-too]

3 female MRA's from India

I first saw their names on the men's right reddit page and searched up some info about them

Deepika Narayan Bhardwaj:  

Deepika Narayan Bhardwaj is an Indian Journalist, Documentary Filmmaker & a Men's Rights Activist from Gurgaon, Haryana. ​ In times when everyone's emphatically talking about women's rights, Deepika makes a strong case for protection of rights of men too whether it's false accusations or domestic violence or sexual crimes perpetrated upon them. Her documentary films focus on gender politics as it intersects with laws, justice, culture, society, and institutions and explores often ignored side of gender issues from a new perspective. Her films are particularly known for ground research, facts & statistics elaborated in depth.  ​ In 2010, she was selected as one of the ten journalists from around the world to attend "Future Media Leaders Course" By Thomson Foundation UK.  She's a woman trying to create a world where there is no gender war and all genders empathize with each other's struggles & sufferings.

Arnaz Hathiram:

She is the founder of the website called Voice for Men India

Voice for Men is an earnest effort to appreciate men as one of the genders that are equally important to society. Your online mag will ensure its best to curate relevant articles, information, interviews as well as judicial verdicts that could be significant in the journey of 'His Story.' The platform also brings together the energies of several on-ground Men's Rights Activists in India who have been struggling for gender equilibrium in civilisation as a whole. About the founder: Arnaz Hathiram has been an active member of the Men's Rights Movement and has also represented the delegation that organised a seminar demanding a commission for men in India in September in 2018. She holds a Master's degree in Journalism and Mass Communications with a specialization in social media. With near two-decade long professional industry experience, our founder is an effective advocate of the cause and drives messages to the masses using creative communication. Having worked with several online media portals, she had rich experience in curating and cultivating relevant content from the web, designing newsletters and running campaigns

There's also info on how to reach her on social media as well as an email if you need to reach her for legal matters or content.

On the website, there's different categories from alimony to murder to in the law to suicide to success stories and more.

And finally, we have Monica Garkhel who is a lawyer

Together let’s build a system where all genders can co-exist peacefully!! Hi, I am Monica Garkhel, a gender equality crusader. In India, many laws exist for the protection of women, but no one cares about the pressure that a man handles and that is the reason why no laws are made in favour of men. Many women nowadays take support of modern legal India and file false cases against their male partners. Family laws exist in our country but women believe that those laws are only made for them. Men always have a fear of defamation in society and due to this fear, they are unable to put forward their part of the story. Women in India have got a tool, that is called feminism and they can play a feminist card very easily nowadays. Most of the women who torture a man mentally are the advocates of feminism only. With laws being made to protect women, our judiciary system has become biased. We all talk and hear a lot about women’s rights. Whereas in all this chaos men’s rights often go unnoticed and unheard. With laws like IPC 498A, PWDVA 2005 Domestic Violence, 125CrPC Maintenance, IPC 375 Gang Rape, IPC 376 False Rape, and many others because of which innocent men and their families are being suffered.

If a woman lodges a complaint against her man, then the police will quickly issue an arrest warrant against the man and in some cases, they don’t even ask for evidence. If the same case is put-up in front of the police by a man, then they will not even take the case seriously in India. First of all, only a few men put up such cases in front of the police because most men don’t even show that they are being harassed due to the social stigma, i.e., “Men are meant to be stronger”. Here, we will provide you the knowledge about the rights of a man, from which Indian men are unaware until today. Our website will tell you about how women pressurize men by taking legal action against them and by trapping them in false cases. I am here to bring awareness about men’s rights, Counsel either gender, raise my voice against this unjust and inhuman system, and offer my Legal advice and support if you are fighting a legal battle.

[kangshxrtie]

Girls Never Die

Koma Mayu Y/n's Bestfriend Major: Digital Audiences The embodiment of bright, bubbly charisma. Her presence is like a burst of sunshine.

Zhou Xinyu Major: Mass Communication Quintessential flirt. Thrives on playful banter. Knows how to push boundaries while keeping things light-hearted. She's 99% sure everybody is in love with her, the crazy part is, she's not wrong.

Seo Dahyun Major: Digital Audiences Known for her spontaneous and sometimes unpredictable nature.

Yoon Seoyeon Major: Investigative Journalism The go-to person for advice and guidance.

Ji Suhyeon Major: Investigate Journalism A master of charm & competitiveness.

Kim Chaewon Major: Agricultural Communications and Journalism Real-life Disney princess.

[alcrescendoarch]

bio under the cut

Han Young-Ji was born in Duluth, Georgia to James Han and Kim Da-Som. She was a very active girl since she was a child, and when she began to show interest in martial arts, her parents agreed to allow her to go to South Korea, where she would study under her aunt, Kim Da-Eun. 

Under her aunt and great-grandfather’s tutelage, Young-Ji became an exceptional fighter. When she was seventeen, her dojo made it to the sekai taikai. Young-Ji herself made it all the way to the captain’s battle, but failed to snatch the victory after her opponent “accidentally” broke her arm on the mat. 

Faced with shaming the family and their dojo, there were no complaints when Young-Ji returned to the states after the tournament, finishing high school and enrolling in college. That was where she opted to start going by her english name, Charlotte (or Charlie, rather), as a way to distance herself from her family’s dojo.

Karate and tang su do were always a big part of her life, however, and she found herself working as a sensei on the side, though her main career was as a column writer for a newspaper in new york. 

Her freedom from her family, however, was short lived. Joining her aunt and her associate, john kreese, in their war against another dojo was the last thing she wanted, but her aunt and great grandfather knew exactly how to twist her arm.

And so, charlie joined in training the newly minted Cobra Kai dojo in preparation for the sekai taikai, which she accompanied the team for. Now back in the place where her career in karate derailed, she finds herself struggling to stay loyal to her family.

PERSONALITY

While her demeanor is generally bright, if not a little absentminded, her personality changes completely when she’s in a fight/match. When in a match, she becomes very stoic and every move is carefully calculated.

In general, charlie is empathetic to a fault. She has a tendency to be too trusting, and tends to always look for the good in people.

STATS

BASIS: 

NAME: charlotte amelia han / han young-ji NICKNAME(S): charlie AGE: 27 BIRTHDATE: tbd ORIENTATION: bisexual OCCUPATION: columnist, part time sensei BELT DEGREE: fourth / yon dan

PHYSICAL

HAIR. black, wavy, long. did cut it short in college EYES: dark brown, almost black COMPLEXION: peachy, fair skinned but not pale BUILD: slender but athletic and toned. not quite as defined as she was in her teens, but still built SCARS: she has various scars from her years of training. The biggest scar is on her arm, where she needed surgery to fix it after it was broken when she was in the sekai taikai when she was 17 TATTOOS: she has a rose of sharon tattooed on her right shoulder blade PIERCINGS: ears FACECLAIM: arden cho

PERSONALITY

ZODIAC: tbd ALIGNMENT: neutral good POSITIVE TRAITS: NEGATIVE TRAITS: 

MEDICAL

MENTAL: PHYSICAL: PHOBIAS: EYESIGHT: DRUG USE:none ALCOHOL USE: occasional ALLERGIES: low level allergy to alcohol, causing her face to flush bright red when she drinks

BACKGROUND

BIRTHPLACE: duluth, georgia CURRENT HOMETOWN: new york city ETHNICITY: korean american PARENTS: kim da-som (mother) and han jae-bom / james han ADDITIONAL FAMILY: kim da-eun (maternal aunt), kim sung-yung (great grandfather) PETS: none EDUCATION: masters in journalism / mass communications NOTABLE SKILLS: extremely skilled in karate, tang su do, and taekwondo LANGUAGES: english, korean, some spanish

[celestemona]

Bea, if you ever write a modern au for the kids what college course would they major in?

It took me so long to answer it </3 Sorry anon. . . I had to think about it carefully because that was a really nice question :D ♡

Ok hear me out:

Zahra would major in mechanical engineering or aeronautical engineering. She loves numbers, equations, and maths overall and it matches perfectly with her hobby of creating and fixing things!!

Hakim, not surprisingly, would major in Arts or Architecture. Maybe both. I also considered civil engineering but my boy would hate it lol

Aryan is a technology boy so Computer Science for sure! Isaar, on the other hand, would take Physics! I think he'd master something where he could work as a researcher 😊

Please don't laugh but Kazumi is majoring in Psychology! :(( It isn't like he wants to work as a therapist or something like that. He just finds mind studies fascinating ♡ ♡ Kiyomi certainly would have a degree in Fashion or even Journalism! Baby Haruki I'm pretty sure he's majoring in History, mastering Political and Social History, and eventually he'd start Law.

Ren got me seriously because I'm in between Neuroscience, Psychology, and Linguistics for him… I'll let u pick! 😜

Hayato is an Economics & Business boy!

Cameron is majoring Law too—dont know if he likes it tho hahah.

Éveline would have a Biology degree not surprisingly majoring in Animal Care ♡

Corinne is a Biomedicine or Pharmacology while Quentin specializes in Mass Communication & Media!

Last but not least, I believe Kimi would get a Healthcare degree—something like a Nursing Science bachelor's :D

[harrison-abbott]

This film is so over the top. But, that’s kinda why it works. All the characters are draconian villains and it’s rather like a pantomime – but it also has lots of good points.

Perhaps it’s telling that many of the points that it makes about the mass media, and the people engaged with it, are still relevant in 2024, just as they were in 1976? Maybe even more so.

Also, I would imagine there are definitely people in the media who are just as ludicrous as the characters here.

In fact, I did a Master’s degree in journalism, and I met real journalists who worked at the local paper, and they were crude and sleazy and obsessed with sales, rather than producing journalistic content in an informative sense. They were only interested in circulation, as opposed to what they were communicating.

Either way, it’s a terrific movie. Very disturbing. Well made.

[dailyanarchistposts]

I.4.15 What will the workplace of tomorrow look like?

Given the anarchist desire to liberate the artist in all of us, we can easily imagine that a free society would totally transform the working environment. No longer would workers be indifferent to their workplaces, but they would express themselves in transforming them into pleasant places, integrated into both the life of the local community and into the local environment. After all, “no movement that raises the demand for workers’ councils can be regarded as revolutionary unless it tries to promote sweeping transformations in the environment of the work place.” [Murray Bookchin, Post-Scarcity Anarchism, p. 88]

A glimpse of the future workplace can been seen from the actual class struggle. In the 40 day sit-down strike at Fisher Body plant #1 in Flint, Michigan in 1936, “there was a community of two thousand strikers … Committees organised recreation, information, classes, a postal service, sanitation … There were classes in parliamentary procedure, public speaking, history of the labour movement. Graduate students at the University of Michigan gave courses in journalism and creative writing.” [Howard Zinn, A People’s History of the United States, p. 391] In the same year, during the Spanish Revolution, collectivised workplaces also created libraries and education facilities as well as funding schools, health care and other social necessities (a practice, we must note, that had started before the revolution when anarchist unions had funded schools, social centres, libraries and so on).

The future workplace would be expanded to include education and classes in individual development. This follows Proudhon’s suggestion made during the 1848 revolution that we should ”[o]rganise association, and by the same token, every workshop becoming a school, every worker becomes a master, every student an apprentice.” [No Gods, No Masters, vol. 1, pp. 62–3] This means that in a free society “Workers’ associations have a very important role to play … Linked to the system of public education, they will become both centres of production and centres and for education … The working masses will be in daily contact with the youthful army of agricultural and industrial workers. Labour and study, which have for so long and so foolishly been kept apart, will finally emerge side by side in their natural state of union. Instead of being confined to narrow, specialised fields, vocational education will include a variety of different types of work which, taken as a whole, will insure that each student becomes an all-round worker.” [Proudhon, Selected Writings of Pierre-Joseph Proudhon, p. 87]

This would allow work to become part of a wider community, drawing in people from different areas to share their knowledge and learn new insights and ideas. In addition, children would have part of their school studies with workplaces, getting them aware of the practicalities of many different forms of work and so allowing them to make informed decisions in what sort of activity they would be interested in pursuing when they were older.

Obviously, a workplace managed by its workers would also take care to make the working environment as pleasant as possible. No more “sick building syndrome” or unhealthy and stressful work areas for “can we doubt that work will become a pleasure and a relaxation in a society of equals, in which ‘hands’ will not be compelled to sell themselves to toil, and to accept work under any conditions Repugnant tasks will disappear, because it is evident that these unhealthy conditions are harmful to society as a whole. Slaves can submit to them, but free men [and women] will create new conditions, and their work will be pleasant and infinitely more productive.” [Kropotkin, The Conquest of Bread, p. 123] Workplaces would be designed to maximise space and allow individual expression within them. We can imagine such places surrounded by gardens and allotments which were tended by workers themselves, giving a pleasant surrounding to the workplace. There would, in effect, be a break down of the city/rural divide — workplaces would be placed next to fields and integrated into the surroundings:

“Have the factory and the workshop at the gates of your fields and gardens, and work in them. Not those large establishments, of course, in which huge masses of metals have to be dealt with and which are better placed at certain spots indicated by Nature, but the countless variety of workshops and factories which are required to satisfy the infinite diversity of tastes among civilised men [and women] … factories and workshops which men, women and children will not be driven by hunger, but will be attracted by the desire of finding an activity suited to their tastes, and where, aided by the motor and the machine, they will choose the branch of activity which best suits their inclinations.” [Kropotkin, Fields, Factories and Workshops Tomorrow, p. 197]

This vision of rural and urban integration is just part of the future anarchists see for the workplace. As Kropotkin argued, ”[w]e proclaim integration… a society of integrated, combined labour. A society where each individual is a producer of both manual and intellectual work; where each able-bodied human being is a worker, and where each worker works both in the field and the industrial workshop; where every aggregation of individuals, large enough to dispose of a certain variety of natural resources — it may be a nation, or rather a region — produces and itself consumes most of its own agricultural and manufactured produce.” [Op. Cit., p. 26]

The future workplace would be an expression of the desires of those who worked there. It would be based around a pleasant working environment, within gardens and with extensive library, resources for education classes and other leisure activities. All this, and more, will be possible in a society based upon self-realisation and self-expression and one in which individuality is not crushed by authority and capitalism. To quote Kropotkin, the future workplace would be “airy and hygienic, and consequently economical, factories in which human life is of more account than machinery and the making of extra profits.” [Op. Cit., p. 197] For, obviously, “if most of the workshops we know are foul and unhealthy, it is because the workers are of no account in the organisation of factories”. [The Conquest of Bread, p. 121]

“So in brief,” argued William Morris, “our buildings will be beautiful with their own beauty of simplicity as workshops” and “besides the mere workshops, our factory will have other buildings which may carry ornament further than that, for it will need dinning-hall, library, school, places for study of different kinds, and other such structures.” [A Factory as It Might Be, p. 9] This is possible and is only held back by capitalism which denounces such visions of freedom as “uneconomic.” Yet such claims ignore the distribution of income in class society:

“Impossible I hear an anti-Socialist say. My friend, please to remember that most factories sustain today large and handsome gardens, and not seldom parks … only the said gardens, etc. are twenty miles away from the factory, out of the smoke, and are kept up for one member of the factory only, the sleeping partner to wit.” [Morris, Op. Cit., pp. 7–8]

Pleasant working conditions based upon the self-management of work can produce a workplace within which economic “efficiency” can be achieved without disrupting and destroying individuality and the environment (also see section I.4.9 for a fuller discussion of anarchism and technology).

[iimtcollege]

Admissions Open at IIMT Group of Colleges for 2024-25!

Are you ready to embark on an educational journey that will shape your future? IIMT Group of Colleges is thrilled to announce that admissions are now open for the academic year 2024-25 for the following programs:

BBA (Bachelor of Business Administration)

BCA (Bachelor of Computer Applications)

B.Com (Bachelor of Commerce)

BJMC (Bachelor of Journalism & Mass Communication)

B.Com (Hons)

MAJMC (Master of Arts in Journalism & Mass Communication)

.

Call Us: 9520886860

.

#IIMTIndia #IIMTNoida #IIMTGreaterNoida #IIMTDelhiNCR #IIMTian

#IIMTAdmissions2024 #FutureLeaders #HigherEducation #BBA #BCA #BCom #BJMC #BComHons #MAJMC #YourFutureStartsHere

[sasorikigai]

Shirai Ryu & Nudity

From the historical standpoint, Japan had a relatively open attitude towards nudity, with public baths (onsen) being an integral part of Japanese culture, and Shirai Ryu is no exception. These communal bathing spaces often involve complete nudity, with separate facilities for men and women. Onsen are not merely places to cleanse oneself but also to relax, socialize, and appreciate nature and they are scattered around the Shirai Ryu grounds.

Hanzo likes to personally explore the concept of nudity in his own artistic expressions as well, for he has been a lifetime practitioner of traditional Japanese art, such as ukiyo-e woodblock prints and sumi-e ink painting which often depicts nudity, particularly in representations of bath scenes or geishas. He enjoys to capture the human form in various states of undress, reflecting an appreciation for natural beauty and sensuality. Also, through literature and poetry, there are numerous themes of nudity, love, and desire - and Hanzo himself often explores and celebrates the human body and intimate relationships (Harumi Hasashi, of course, and verse dependent) through his writings and journal entries.

Shirai Ryu also participates in Hadaka Matsuri (Naked Festival), which sees participants clad only in loincloths as they engage in purification rituals, symbolizing the shedding of impurities and the renewal of the spirit. During the Hadaka Matsuri, thousands of male participants, often clad only in loincloths called "fundoshi," gather to compete for sacred talismans or lucky charms known as "shingi." The central event of the festival involves a mass struggle to seize these talismans, which are thrown into the crowd by a Shinto priest from a platform or shrine. The atmosphere during the festival is lively and energetic, with participants chanting and jostling to grab the coveted talismans.

The belief is that those who obtain the shingi will be blessed with good fortune and prosperity for the coming year. When Hanzo became a star apprentice of the Shirai Ryu despite the opposition of his father and thus soon matured and trained enough to participate in this ritual, he became the one who would obtain the shingi, which would also eventually led him to become Master Hasashi, the youngest ever in Shirai Ryu to obtain such a title.

Over time, the festival has become a symbol of community spirit, endurance, and tradition. Since Shirai Ryu thrives and dwells in the concept of tight-knitted community filled with rich Japanese traditions, Grandmaster Hasashi has implemented this, not only in the context of purification rituals or cultural traditions, but of celebratory cause; with energy, enthusiasm, and reverence, and the symbolic art of stripping away impurities and starting anew with discipline and dedication, rather than literal nudity.

While nudity is generally not acceptable in public spaces and there are laws governing indecent exposure, in Shirai Ryu, there are designated areas such as nude areas or specific hot springs where nudity is permitted and even expected.

[dragonflight203]

Mass Effect 1 replay, post Noveria missions:

Noveria

-Businesswoman: Everyone who came back from Peak 15 is being reassigned offworld.

Nice to have confirmation there were some survivors, at least.

-Li was definitely intended for some kind of upgrades related to the Mako. You speak to him, say you’re here for vehicle repairs, he says that’s what he likes to hear, then… nothing.

I'm curious what the Mako repairs would have entailed. Not being able to fix it with Omni-Gel? Being able to enhancement to move faster, etc.?

-It’s odd that there are missions available after Noveria, but they’re not added to the journal unless you stumble upon them. It’s possible to add the post-Feros missions to the journal during Feros if you find the triggers in HQ.

Archeron

-Altahe – The skybox showing the planet it shares an atmosphere with is cool.

-What are the red pyramid shaped things in the base? Are these ever explained?

They look vaguely like eggs, but I don’t think they’re rachni eggs. For one there’s no queen, for two I think those eggs were visible in the room containing the rachni queen and they looked different.

-Once again, a rather sad mission. These folks were just doing their jobs, then died because their supply ship was stocked with hostile creatures. They weren’t engaged in illegal experiments or used as test subjects, they’re just collateral damage.

Erebus

-Quaji – The initial survey saw geometric patterns in the northern hemisphere deserts that were only visible in ultraviolet. The Normandy doesn’t see them.

More atmosphere building in ME1. The writers certainly enjoyed phenomena witnessed once, then never again.

-Nepmos – The description mentions a “five kiloparsec ring” around the galatic core. There’s a lot of molecular hydrogen and many stars form there; it’s too dangerous to travel.

I think this is the first mention of the galactic core being a dangerous place to travel too, which is a key element of ME2. Interestingly, there the danger is the proximity of the black hole.

-The contrast of the lit sky to the black clouds is very pretty.

-I think this is the only time in the game where there’s a buried safe box. Odd it would only be used once.

-This mission is very different from a typical UNC world, which is a nice change of pace. There are NPCs to talk to, and there’s more to do than just exploring the a base or mine with the same layout as every other base or mine.

I wish the UNC worlds had contained more diversity like this – it’s a small change, but when doing so many of these missions it helps prevent repetitiveness.

-Hmm. Rachni Queens don’t need males to breed, but brood warriors are male. What occurred in their evolutionary history to make males preferred but not necessary?

Gorgon

-Unidentified Space Facility – Once again, we learn that Cerberus is the source of the problem. This time in a Terminal log from an agent overseeing the rachni tests, Flores.

Liara: Cerberus? I do not believe I have heard of that organization before.

Girl, did you get hit on the head? I’ve taken you to every UNC world. We’ve been razing Cerberus bases and doing damage control for what must be in game months by now.

But seriously – what was the original plan for this mission? For that to be Liara’s line, the original order of the missions must have been quite different.

In the final game, most players probably learn about Cerberus very early, from the Admiral Kahoku missions. Liara’s line hints that at one time this would have been the start of the Cerberus plotline.

-Flores mentions these rachni are different than the Noveria rachni; they were raised in proximity of the master control unit.

So, they were raised in proximity of the queen. That means they should be sane. Given that Flores regrets not treating them as POWs, I presume they were more self aware and capable of planning.

However, they never even attempted to communicate with Shepard, so in game they come off as the same rachni. Also odd that the queen did not mention them or attempt to retrieve them (if freed).

-In the final log, Flores addresses a general. Who?

In ME1, Cerberus is an Alliance black ops gone rogue. So the general may have been the general that originally oversaw Cerberus, or stayed in contact with them after they broke away.

In ME2, Cerberus has been retconned to work in isolated cells. This can still work – it’s a general that Cerberus has recruited.

-Flores also says to use one of the other projects. Given that in the UNC: Cerberus assignment we saw Cerberus experimenting with rachni, husks, and Thorian Creepers, I assume that’s what Flores is referring to. Abandon rachni, proceed with husks or Thorian Creepers.

-After you blow the station, it’s gone from the map. Small detail, but I appreciate the consistency.

Edit: Corrected assignment from Hades' Dogs to Cerberus

[iimmidelhi]

IIMMI is non-profitable organization dedicated to provide high quality education in both technical and vocational courses. 

It is well established reputed Institute in North India in the areas of Management, Journalism & Mass Communication and Information Technology at Undergraduate and Post Graduate level.

IIMMI is a premier Institution for advance learning & research created to impart education in the field of Management, media, Information Technology relevant to entrepreneurial development in rural and urban India. The founder of IIMMI are Lawyers, Chartered Accountants, Academics who are also consultant of Corporate/Industry automatic constitute strong placement cell for aspirants.

IIMMI is located in the heart of Delhi, near Delhi University North Campus at ring road Kingsway Camp, opposite G.T.B. Nagar Metro Station, Next to Delhi University (Vishwvidyalaya) Metro Station, 15 minutes from I.S.B.T. & old Delhi Railway Station is convenient for outsiders as well as local Students.

The Institute has the sate of art-of Infrastructure with Modern Outlook.

Top BCA college in Delhi

IIMMI works on the policy of dual Qualification - Degree + Diploma. It provides one autonomous diploma along with all types degree Courses which has been designed keeping in the mind the latest requirement of today’s scenario.

Programs Offered by IIMMI :

1. BCA - Bachelor of Computer Application

2. BBA - Bachelor of Business Administration

3. BJMC - Bachelor in Journalism & Mass Communication

4. MJMC - Master in Journalism & Mass Communication

[laidee-flegman]

Fifth day of Christmas journal prompts - Festive traditions

Tradition Time Travel: If you could experience one Christmas tradition from any era, past or future, what would it be, and why?

Signature Sips: Dive into the holiday drink traditions. What's your go-to festive beverage, and does it come with any special rituals or memories?

The Decor Dance: Describe your family's unique approach to decorating for Christmas. Any quirky traditions or epic debates about tinsel placement?

Santa's Workshop: If you were in charge of creating a new Christmas tradition for families around the world, what would it be, and how would it spread joy?

Ugly Sweater Soirée: Share your craziest or most memorable ugly sweater party experience. What made your outfit stand out or led to some unforgettable moments?

Tree Trimming Tales: Reflect on the process of picking out and decorating the Christmas tree. Any funny stories or particular ornaments that steal the show?

The Christmas Countdown: Explore the various ways you've counted down to Christmas over the years. Advent calendars, chains, or perhaps a creative twist of your own?

Culinary Customs: Delve into the delicious side of traditions. What recipes or dishes define your family's Christmas feast, and are there any secret ingredients or special techniques?

Generosity Games: Did your family have any unique ways of giving back during the holiday season? Share stories of charitable traditions or random acts of kindness.

The Annual Movie Marathon: Break down your must-watch Christmas movie list. Any specific order, themed snacks, or heated debates over the best version of a classic?

Fireside Frolics: If your fireplace could tell stories from your Christmas gatherings, what tales would it share? Cozy chats, marshmallow roasts, or maybe even a Santa sighting?

Letters to Santa: Reflect on the evolution of your letters to Santa over the years. Any outrageous requests or heartfelt messages that still make you smile?

Neighborhood Noel: Share memories of your community's Christmas spirit. Did you have any traditions that involved neighbors or local festivities?

Christmas Card Chronicles: Describe your family's approach to sending Christmas cards. Do you go for the classic family photo or opt for a more creative and quirky vibe?

The Gift-Giving Game: Explore your family's approach to gift-giving. Any unique traditions, like scavenger hunts or themed presents, that make the exchange extra special?

Caroling Chronicles: Did your family ever go caroling or have carolers visit? Share your experiences, whether they involved pitch-perfect performances or hilarious off-key renditions.

The Christmas Eve Extravaganza: Dive into the details of your family's Christmas Eve traditions. Midnight Mass, festive feasts, or perhaps a wild game night – spill the Yuletide tea!

Memory Ornaments: Explore the stories behind your favorite Christmas ornaments. Do any hold special memories or symbolize specific moments in your life?

Tradition Transformation: Have any Christmas traditions evolved or changed over the years? How have you adapted to new circumstances while keeping the festive spirit alive?

Holiday Hobbies: Share any special hobbies or activities that are reserved specifically for the holiday season. Baking, crafting, or perhaps mastering the art of snowflake-making?

The Christmas Morning Rituals: Break down the steps of your Christmas morning routine. From the first wake-up call to the last present opened, what rituals make it uniquely yours?

Snow Day Spectacular: If you live in a snowy area, reflect on your favorite snow day traditions. Sledding, snowball fights, or building epic snow forts – what's your go-to snowy adventure?

Festive Fashion Fables: Dive into the fashion side of traditions. Are there specific outfits or accessories that have become synonymous with your holiday celebrations?

New Traditions Exploration: If you were to create a brand new Christmas tradition this year, what would it be, and how do you envision it becoming a beloved part of the season?

Tradition Throwback: Share a cherished tradition from your childhood that you would love to bring back or pass down to future generations.

The Unexpected Tradition: Reflect on a spontaneous or unexpected tradition that started organically. What made it special, and how did it become a repeat performance?

The Technology Twist: How has technology influenced your Christmas traditions? Do you have virtual celebrations, online gift exchanges, or festive Zoom calls with loved ones?

The Pet Parade: If your pets could talk, what tales would they tell of Christmas festivities? Any memorable moments involving tree-climbing cats or present-ripping pups?

Tradition Tune-Up: Explore the role of music in your family's traditions. Are there specific songs that are must-haves for certain activities or moments during the holidays?

The Tradition Legacy: Reflect on the traditions you hope to pass on to future generations. What values or experiences do you want your family to carry forward in the spirit of Christmas?