#southeast england

[thecurioustale]

The "Middle West"

I was recently watching Trump speak (not something I typically do 🤢), and the most interesting thing he said had nothing to do with anything he was actually talking about: It was that he used the term Middle West to refer to that generally north-central part of the United States, centered on the Mississippi River, that is neither the South nor the Northeast (nor the Mid-Atlantic, but that's really just a subcategory of the Northeast that Northeasterns use to not get lumped in with each other).

We all know it today as the Midwest. But in times past it was much more commonly known as the Middle West.

(Tangent: It is also one of many geographical region-name reminders of our national East Coast beginnings, as America has like six different kinds of "West": the Midwest, the Southwest, the (Pacific) Northwest, the Mountain West / Interior West, the West Coast / Pacific West—and that's not counting the deprecated terms (such as "Far West," i.e. distinguished from the Midwest) or the old Northwest (which would've referred to places like Ohio and (what we know as) West Virginia)!)

Over the course of the 20th century, "Midwest" became an increasingly common form of the term, eventually overtaking "Middle West" in popularity and, by our lifetimes, completely replacing it. The only people who still use "Middle West" today are very old. I'm only aware of the term's existence because I'm a fan of midcentury media and if you go watch (for example) old Dragnet episodes from the 1950s you'll hear the term used.

I was looking at the Google Ngram Viewer to get a sense of the relative usage frequencies of these terms, and I noticed something interesting: Not only has "Middle West" been driven almost extinct from active usage, but "Midwest" itself has also declined precipitously in the 21st century. People today are not calling the Midwest the "Midwest," at least not with the frequency and relevancy they once did. I was curious if this was another permutation of the usage, so I also looked up "Midwestern" (which I included in the link above), thinking that maybe people nowadays are calling it the clunkier "the Midwestern states" / "the Midwestern US," but the adjectival has declined in step with "Midwest." It really does seem to be that people are just using this geographical category less often.

Perhaps unsurprisingly: the sociopolitical cohesiveness of the Midwest has significantly diminished over time. I think most Midwesterners would still recognize and affiliate with the term if you applied it of them to their faces, but increasingly I think many of them do not think of it in their daily lives as a personal or cultural identifier. Which has many fascinating implications that I'm not going to get into.

(Another Tangent: I feel like I've talked about specifically this "Middle West / Midwest" thing on Tumblr before, but I feel that way about half of everything because after all I've been writing down my thoughts for over 20 years and I've been having thoughts for considerably longer than that, and it's often not clear to me what I've talked about publicly and where.)

Anyway, this entire post is really just me scratching the itch of verbal brain noise about the orange guy using a term in a public address that I never hear people use in the present day. A little piece of lost language, hearkening back to a completely different era and world.

[thedemon-crowley]

Come on, why is it so cold? Why can’t I stay in bed until summer?

[bonefall]

sorry if you've talked about this before, but I'm curious if clanmew have different words for different bat species? they obviously differentiate insects and birds, but bat's are harder to distinguish at a glance. cats would have an advantage with their hearing, being able to hear bat's squeaks (and I think different species make different patterns and sounds?) but like. I don't remember how many bat species there are here (I think noctule, pipistrelle, greater horseshoe, lesser horseshoe, daubenton's, whiskered, barbastelle, and serotine? I mightve missed a couple), but I love bat's so thought I'd ask. pipistrelle are the most common though I'm from the south-east of England so I occasionally see daubenton's too.

FOUR bat species! Over here in the main entry for birds, check there if you'd like more trivia on them. Clan cats count them as very special, blessed songbirds.

The ones that Clan cats have words for so far;

Pipistrelle (Pipistrellus pipistrellus) = Popep

Soprano Pipistrelle (Pipistrellus pygmaeus) = Ipi'ip

Long-eared Brown Bat (Plecotus auritus) = Fepfr

Common Noctule (Nyctalus noctula) = Shi'po

There are four more kinds of bat, for EIGHT total in this region, that I have not yet described because I don't have good access to their song recordings (Even the main four were ass on butts to hunt down) If you have clear recordings of the songs of these four I'll add them too.

Pipistrellus nathusii

Nyctalus leisleri

Myotis daubentonii

Myotis nattereri

[cigaretteliker]

someday i'll be beautiful and small and in love and we will have a daughter and we will live by the sea

[froggi-mushroom]

Also haha, sorry for the infrequent posts and lack of any writing, since getting a boyfriend I’ve been out and about more cuz he has a motorbike and is such a sweetie he loves seeing me most of the week, so I haven’t had much free time recently

[harump4]

Your tags on my post are so true. They dont care for any asian cc or content thats not animeified east asian sims and its sickening

yknow what's even more sickening? the gorgeous cultures of just southeast asia alone, not yet including the rest of asia

disclaimer: im a malay person from singapore, but that does not mean i am knowledgeable in every asean country and their respective cultures. im very open to learning about them however! please, please correct me if im wrong.

additional note: all of these countries have multiple cultures which means multiple traditional dressings. not to mention colonization also places a huge impact on traditional clothing. i cant put all of them bc... i can only put 10 pictures per post on mobile...

(countries named are above pictures)

thailand

myanmar

malaysia and the natives of singapore (baju kurung or baju melayu)

indonesia (the general kebaya and balinese culture's wedding outfits)

cambodia – the khmer people specifically, correct me if im wrong

[fallauween]

Precede II by Edd Allen

Another shot from a woodland wander. eddallenphotography.com Instagram Twitter Photocrowd

[polypyrite]

Selling my gormiti collection, the box holds enough stuff to fill the table again.

[ravenkings]

I'm sure this kind of poll has gone around before, but I'm curious...

reblog for larger sample size

(also apologies if i got some of the state abbreviations wrong)

[lora-flora]

Why is Britain so obsessed with exposed brick, like slap some paint on that baby

[headspace-hotel]

My mamaw has the book right now so I won't be able to read it for a little bit but my mom read The Worst Hard Time by Timothy Egan which is about the Dust Bowl and it puts in perspective all the environmental books I was reading from the 1940's and 1950's and the sense of agitation and intensity in them.

Everyone is like yeah yeah the dust bowl we've all heard of it, but the Dust Bowl was apocalyptic. The USA practically eliminated the bison—we are talking thousands of square miles of land littered with bones, enormous pyramids of skulls—and committed genocide against their caretakers, and then settlers ripped up the prairie grasses (which protected meters of top soil) with plows

And what happened was, half the country became in engulfed in horrific dirt storms that turned the sky black and reduced visibility to a few feet. Even indoor environments were full of deep drifts of dirt. When it rained, it rained mud instead of water. In ENGLAND the snow was RED because of DIRT. People died from pneumonia because they were breathing the dirt into their lungs.

Even before mom started reading this book, I was reading American books about the environment from the mid 20th century, and they are animated with the zeal and terror of people who have realized that human mismanagement could make the USA literally uninhabitable. I realized, "Oh. This is right after the Dust Bowl." cause of how they talk about erosion, and I realized just how formative the Dust Bowl was in terms of environmental policy.

Reading about various wildlife species, I realized also how utterly apocalyptic the conditions of the past were for animals. Deer were almost eliminated from my state. Deer.

Why do we have the Migratory Bird Treaty Act? Because just about every large bird species almost went extinct from uncontrolled commercial hunting. We almost had no swans, no cranes, no egrets, no storks. We lost the passenger pigeons and Carolina parakeets, but we could have lost Basically Everything.

So many of the ill-conceived decisions to introduce species to this continent are easily explained by how apocalyptic this period of time was. Why did we think it was a good idea to introduce Kudzu? Because in the 1950's, erosion sparked a visceral apprehension of CERTAIN DOOM, and logging had made the whole southeast start washing away! Why were so many exotic antelopes introduced to Texas? Because every native large animal was almost wiped out!

From my other readings on the subject (Changes in the Land by William Cronon is a good one) devastating environmental destruction started just about as soon as Europeans started controlling the land, and I am guessing that if you examined the timeline of environmental disaster alongside the migrations west, it would support the argument that settlers started pushing west more and more rapidly because of land degradation and environmental disaster.

I wish this was commoner knowledge, getting to where we are now has been a journey. Environmental history doesn't start in 1970's.

It is not the case that things have steadily gotten worse over time and recently are becoming extremely bad, rather, different parts of the environment have become both better and worse in steps forward and backward, and many seemingly unremarkable things around us were earned by a vicious fight, which we can learn from and continue...

[admissionsmantra]

The education system in the UK is divided into four main parts, primary education, secondary education, further education and higher education. Children in the UK have to legally attend primary and secondary education which runs from about 5 years old until the student is 16 years old. #Admissionmantra #Successkamantra #OverseasEducation #Belfast #Birmingham #Bristol #Cardiff #Coventry #Edinburg #England #GreaterLondon #Haryana #Liverpool #London #Scotland #Southampton #Newcastle #Southeast #StudyAbroad #StudyinUK #UKvisa #USAvisa #Wales #Hisar Our Mission is to Fulfill Your Ambition #𝐈𝐄𝐋𝐓𝐒𝐄𝐱𝐚𝐦𝐂𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐤 #𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐱𝐚𝐦𝐂𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐤 #𝐆𝐞𝐭𝐒𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐲𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐚 #𝐒𝐩𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧𝐄𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐡 #𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐄𝐝𝐮𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 #𝐀𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐚𝐝𝐌𝐁𝐁𝐒 📢 𝐀𝐩𝐩𝐥𝐲 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐕𝐢𝐬𝐚 𝐀𝐩𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐍𝐨𝐰 ✔✔ 📢 𝐁𝐢𝐠 𝐒𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐎𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 📖 📢 𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐄𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐢𝐛𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐔𝐬 🔍 📢 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐂𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐬 ✔✔ 📢 𝐆𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐒𝐎𝐏 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧✔✔ 📢 𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 ✔✔ 📢 𝐍𝐨 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐅𝐞𝐞𝐬 💸 📢 𝐑𝐞𝐣𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐂𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐬 ✔✔ 📢 𝐖𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐑𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞 📚📚 📢 𝐑𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐎𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐞 - 𝐒𝐂𝐎 -𝟏𝟕𝟏 𝐑𝐞𝐝 𝐒𝐪𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐭, 𝐇𝐢𝐬𝐚𝐫 - 𝟏𝟐𝟓𝟎𝟎𝟏 📢 𝐂𝐨𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐎𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐞 - 𝟒𝟎𝟏, 𝐁𝐡𝐨𝐠𝐚𝐥 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐱, 𝐕𝐞𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐚𝐯𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐚𝐫 𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤, 𝐍𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐍𝐢𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐕𝐢𝐡𝐚𝐫 𝐌𝐞𝐭𝐫𝐨 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐤𝐚𝐫𝐩𝐮𝐫 (𝐍𝐞𝐰 𝐃𝐞𝐥𝐡𝐢) - 𝟏𝟏𝟎𝟎𝟗𝟐 🏛 𝐆𝐞𝐭 𝐅𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐕𝐢𝐬𝐚 𝐀𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐂𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐍𝐨𝐰 📞 𝟗𝟑 𝟗𝟐 𝟗𝟏 𝟗𝟎 𝟐𝟎 📞 𝟗𝟑 𝟗𝟐 𝟗𝟏 𝟗𝟎 𝟑𝟎 (at Hisar-The City Beautiful) https://www.instagram.com/p/Cp39us0P3Qn/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[patricia-von-arundel]

Once upon a time, this dude lived in this town called Durpington-Trollop, a really cool old place with, like, lots of those roofs made of grass and rocks on the roads and shit. He lived on Stonking Topperhat Avenue, which had no trees because they had all been bombed in World War II or something, he wasn't sure 'cause history is boring and he had to watch stupid busloads of stupid American tourists wandering around downtown gawking at some old castle or some shit, maybe it was actually a country club, who cares, it's old and ugly and all he wanted was a brand-new rowhouse that had its own bitchin' backyard.

"Hey, what's up, dawg?" he said to his friend, Oliver Crimplesnoot, who was a really, really rich guy, a mayor or something, and had twelve cars in his garage, and eight bathrooms in his big ol' mansion, and ate only well done steaks with mashed pea-tatoes every day.

"Well, I say!" Oliver said, putting one leather-gloved, delicate hand over his well-chapsticked mouth. "Whatever does that mean? You sound quite like a Yank, Bertie old chap, old mate, and I am feeling quite cumberbatched!" It was the way he talked, because he was very, very rich. He said "posh," but Bertie didn't know that word because he was a stupid, stupid American. He only knew words like "McDonalds" and "gas station" and "bodega" and "chicken nuggets with fries." He didn't even like vinegar on his fries, which had almost gotten him kicked out of the chip shop, until he threatened to come back with his 312 guns and his pet eagle, Sam, to sue them, because Americans can go everywhere. Also, his name wasn't Bertie, that was a stupid name. His name was Brixtonleigh Colt 45 Cowboy Jr., but he had a fake name because he was wanted by the FBI for being too cool for school. He was friends with Oliver in case he needed to steal one of Oliver's twelve cars. He'd never notice it was gone. He thought Jeeps were called 4x4s! It was hilarious.

"I don't sound American, you stupid - uh..." He had to think - how would they think he was actually British if he called someone "dumbass?" British people didn't know "ass!" "Stupid dumbarse," he said quickly, before Oliver could jump on his horse and ride off to inform the redcoats of his deception. "Stupid dumbarse cuntwipe," he added, remembering what one of the guys on the bus had said to him when he wouldn't get his feet off the seat. He was American, he could put his feet where he wanted!

There were zombies coming out of the alley. "What ho!" Oliver said, aghast. "I do think those chaps are the walking dead! I say, sirs, you cannot invade Durpington-Trollop without a proper permit and a TV license! I shall report you to the council at once!"

"Fuck that," said not-Bertie, then realized he'd been American again. Quick! "Uh - wait." He put his hand up, so the zombies would know he needed a sec. "Arse that? No... crap. What's the word? Sod? Sod that?"

"Sod it all, Bertie!" Oliver corrected, as a zombie began to gnaw at his arm. "Why, I do believe I have been infected. What a bother! I shall call on the shire reeve and the commissioner of the bobbies! They have no guns, but perhaps we can ring the Yanks for some! Oh, bother again, this is rather uncomfortable and not a bit tickety-boo!"

"Bugger that!" He had finally remembered the stupid words. Why couldn't the English speak English, like real Americans??? Maybe they were depressed because all their bald eagles, flags, and guns had been taken away by the king or something. "I'll be back!"

He went and jumped in his Hummer, and mashed all the zombies like British peas were (for some reason), then bought himself 85 Big Macs, 12 deep-dish pizzas with extra pineapple, 64 bags of potato chips (he kind of liked those round ones you could put on your fingers, but he refused to trust British potato chips after he'd accidentally eaten one that was prawn flavored, which he was pretty sure was a war crime and he planned to sue every person in the UK about it as soon as he'd finished being GI Joe and killing all the zombies), a can of cream of mushroom soup, a pineapple upside-down cake, and six gallons of banana pudding. Americans had big appetites, because they were all secretly, in their own heads, giant buff dudes who liked to wrestle. And go mudding. And tip cows. Shit like that.

He stood on top of his Hummer and shouted - in a deep, manly, American voice - "ASK NOT WHAT YOU CAN DO FOR YOUR COUNTRY, ASK WHAT AN AMERICAN CAN DO FOR YOU!" Then he ate a Union Jack to show dominance.

"Are you sure he's meant to have left the grounds, doctor?" The nurse shook her head, her starched skirt rustling smartly and her curls straight from a society still unsure if their Empire had crumbled. "I thought they said -"

"Shhhh," Dr. Dimpleshmutt-Biffering said. "It keeps him quiet if he can finish his wee games. As long as he remains away from the ring-around-the-rosey road and the A-666, he should be quite sporting by tea time, and he shall enjoy his crumpet and Marmite without bother."

"I suppose..." the nurse said, pursing her lips. She did rather wish that at least once, the doctor would pretend to be the lad's imaginary friend Oliver, or a zombie, or a Nazi, or a "wild Indian," or a rabid dog, or any of the other things he felt necessary to show his dominance against. "I do hope you're right."

"I am British, old bird," the doctor said, in a very British way. "And I have a penis, and went to Oxbridge St. Pustulence, and therefore I am smarter than Americans and you."

She sniffed, but spoke no more. Really, she had rummaged rubbish from the tip that was smarter than Americans. It was rather insulting. Unfortunately, she lived in a place with no social safety net like the gloried halls of America, with private healthcare and detached houses and a chicken in every pot and trial lawyers, and so could never change jobs, because if she did, she'd have to go on the dole and live in a terraced slum with the chavs and eat only mince pies and underboiled vegetables and off-brand digestives.

The Yank raised his arms and poured root beer all over his wifebeater and basketball shorts. "MURICA!" he shouted. "FUCK YEAH!"

And all the zombies were dead, thanks to Americans, who had also singlehandedly won two World Wars, and we don't talk about any conflicts they'd been involved in after 1945, because it made Ronald Reagan sad.

The end!

[alluneedissunshine]

Light in the bleakest of times by Edd Allen Via Flickr: Fall colours coming along down South. Lots of wind forecast this week, so may not be many leaves left! eddallenphotography.com Instagram Twitter

[moths-wc-aus]

psst! hey! guess what! i make warriors name generators based on specific places!

-- central american (+ mexican) names -- florida names -- tundra names -- desert names (american & australian) -- new england, america names (made this one for my coastal fanclans, since they're based in maine) -- alaska names -- mesa biome names -- canadian names -- prairie names -- north carolinan swamp names -- u.s. desert names -- cave names (worldwide) -- southeast asian names -- californian coast names -- arizona names -- gobi desert names

here's a generator with all of the prefixes/suffixes i use regularly! -- moth's name gen

and here's a whole clan generator! -- moth's clan gen

(go ahead and yell at me if you find something missing/something that shouldn't be there)

[jiminjamms]

sex therapy :: 30. breaking news

chapter tags/warnings: manipulative! naoya. physical aggression. verbal abuse (not to reader). infidelity/adultery. extremely strong language. corruption. family drama.

word count: 3.4k

notes: thank you again for your patience with the chapter! life update: i resigned from my company (on good terms, even though the work had sucked my mental and physical health), and i am soon doing a trip to japan and southeast asia as part of my recovery. still, i will be actively writing and responding since this community is so important to me! also, has anyone been keeping up with jujutsu kaisen's manga?! likes, comments, and reblogs are much appreciated. xoxo

fic masterlist | 01. 02. 03. 04. 05. 06. 07. 08. 09. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26. 27. 28. 29. 30. 31. 32. 33.

Life without a sugar daddy was rough.

As Toji Fushiguro's ex-wife and Naoya Zenin's ex-mistress, Mari faced this harsh reality since no one threw their money in her direction anymore. She slept little this past week, overwhelmed by financial stressors. While she still subsisted on the younger executive's credit card (with his fortune, Naoya hardly noticed the charges on his bill), she realized that she actually had to work for an income.

Such was the case as Mari walked home one evening after interviewing for jobs, her body and mind exhausted from fielding mundane questions about her previous professional experiences (which she had little of).

Upon unlocking her apartment door, she was immediately greeted by the sight of her illuminated living room.

That struck her as odd.

She always switched the lights off before she left.

However, when she spotted a familiar face down the hall, she found the answer.

"Tsumiki." Mari dropped her purse by the door. "What are you doing here?”

The woman had not seen her one and only blood-related child in months. While she knew that her daughter—who was, without doubt, a fantastically accomplished and intelligent young lady—just completed her second year at Oxford University, she thought the girl had chosen to remain in England for her summer break. Didn't Toji mention that she did not want to return to Tokyo?

Not that Mari complained. She was just...confused.

Admittedly, Mari should know the answer to her question, but she had been too ‘occupied’ to contact Tsumiki as much as a good mother should. As a result, Mari found herself in the dark about the girl's life in the United Kingdom, her plans for the university holiday, and her recent classes in…what was her field of study again?

Surely, Toji and his twerp son Megumi would know all the answers since Tsumiki had always been closer to her Fushiguro stepfamily. Quite a shame, since Mari would have considered her daughter as the most perfect angel otherwise.

She toed her shoes off.

“When did you arrive in Tokyo?” Mari continued with a plastered smile and approached the girl sitting with crossed arms in the living room.

Genetics ran deep between mother and daughter. Uninformed observers might even mistake the pair as sisters, the physical resemblance uncanny in how Tsumiki presented a more youthful version of the older woman by sharing the same warm chocolate-colored eyes, long dark hair, and flawless porcelain skin.

Yet, physical similarities meant nothing when Mari could not fully decipher her own flesh and blood.

“I came back to Japan earlier this week,” Tsumiki responded a terse edge in her tone.

“But I haven’t seen you until now.”

“Because I’ve been staying with Dad.”

“Oh.” So, she meant with Toji. “You mean your stepdad.”

“No,” she corrected sternly. “He's my dad.”

Theoretically, Mari could go into a whole tangent on how Tsumiki’s actual father was some middle-class nobody whom she hadn’t seen or spoken to since her first divorce (and that was many years ago). Or how the Fushiguros technically were Tsumiki’s ex-stepfamily since Mari had divorced her second husband Toji earlier this year.

But she spared her daughter from the reminders.

“Well, I’m glad to see you back, honey.” With a bottle of unfinished cabernet sauvignon in the fridge, Mari meandered to the kitchen to pour herself a full glass. She returned to living room and joined her daughter on the sofa. “How have you been? I’m guessing England has been treating you well? I have never been, so I wouldn’t know. Heard that the fish and chips are good there."

No response.

Am I being ignored? Mari commented inwardly and swirled the red wine in her chalice.

She took her first sip amid the long and awkward pause before switching the topic to encourage conversation. "Anyway, whenever you would like, you’re always welcome to stay a few nights here. Wouldn't hurt to spend some more time with your mother."

Only for Tsumiki to quip, “We’ve talked about this before. I don’t want to live with you.”

Now, this—Mari believed—was certainly uncalled for. "Watch your tone with me, young lady."

"For what? I am not here because I miss you," her daughter resumed. "If I had a better option, I would not bring myself to show up here and be in front of you."

The older woman placed her glass down and tried to appear calm. Hearing Tsumiki speak with such contempt twisted a deep knife into Mari's heart. Once upon a time, her daughter had been the sweetest girl—warm, full of life, and eager to express her innocent thoughts with anyone she encountered. Now, however, that same person had been tainted into someone cold, guarded, and withdrawn, demonstrated by her disrespect to the very woman who had given her life.

"That is no manner to talk to your mother," Mari cautioned.

"Well, maybe because I have my reasons."

"Which are?"

"Do you want to know why I did not bother to text or call you these past several months?" and Tsumiki did not wait for an answer before she angrily added, "Because I am so upset that you filed a divorce with Dad!"

While Mari had hoped to not bring up the topic before, she had no choice but to do so now.

"That big, burly, bulky man is not your father," she snapped. "He and his emo Harvard-bound son are not your family! In the eyes of the law, there is no longer any relation between you and them. But, I am your mother. I had given you life, and this is what you think of me?"

"Because I love them!" Tsumiki opposed through a hardened glare. "Dad and Megumi treat me more like their blood-related family than you do!”

Mari could not believe the preposterous words her daughter spewed. She always presumed that the Fushiguros had been corrupting her child, and to see her suspicions confirmed had Mari standing up promptly from the couch.

"How dare you say after all I have done for you, Tsumiki?" Mari interrogated angrily. "Did you think that I left your biological father and then divorced your stepfather for what...for fun?! These choices were difficult for me, too! But I made those judgments because I wanted to give you a better life in which we didn't have to worry about where our next meal, our next piece of clothing, or our next rent payment would come from! Your biological father is a no-name nothing. He could’ve never supported the lavish lifestyle you had experienced during your adolescent years. In fact, if I hadn’t married Toji Fushiguro, you probably wouldn't be studying at the University of Oxford right now! I, alone, could never have afforded all your years of expensive tutors or private school tuition. Please, think before you speak. I know I did not raise an ungrateful brat.”

Tsumiki furrowed her brows from the comments.

“You're the ungrateful one, Mom!” she insisted, and the said woman visibly reeled back when the girl continued to seethe with antipathy. “All the money that you had spent while married to Dad, he never asked for a single cent back. Never. In fact, he still pays for my university. In his eyes and mine, I’m as good as any blood-related child to him. He hadn't asked you to chip in because he knows you wouldn't have the money to. Divorcing the man you've been leeching off of isn't a sign of appreciation, Mom."

To hear her child defend another family, Mari wasn’t sure if she was going to laugh or cry at how ridiculous this scene was, the only thing she could process being the pain and betrayal that slammed her with one bitter blow.

"Well, did you want to become a laughingstock?" the woman rationalized. "Given our ties to the Zenin name when Toji left the company, those nasty journalists would've clung onto any scrap to label you a buffoon. You know what those tabloid writers are like! I had the foresight to divorce that man. I did not want the disgrace if we remained attached to the Fushiguros."

After that response, Tsumiki turned quiet with one sharp exhale as her eyes snapped shut, and Mari, whose entire body had undulated from heavy and irate breaths, thought that finally—finally—she had won this godforsaken argument.

Until she heard the younger girl speak again.

"Yet, you have humiliated me more than anyone," and noticing how her mother quirked a brow, Tsumiki went on. "Who are you really trying to protect, Mom? Are you truly making these decisions for my benefit? Or is it...for yourself?"

Despite hiding a gulp, the older woman noticed her heart race. "What do you mean?"

"How can you explain this?"

As though that was her cue, Tsumiki reached for her phone. She tapped onto the front page of the Yomiuri Shimbun, the most highly circulated newspaper in Japan. Before Mari could read the bold title labeled as 'Breaking News,' Tsumiki provided her with a verbal summary:

"The world knows you're a homewrecker, Mom."

Naoya found no surprise when Naobito Zenin burst into his executive suite as an angry bull would charge toward a provoking cape.

Plenty of times, his father barged into his private office completely unannounced, slamming the door open with enough force to rattle the wooden bookshelves behind him. Usually, the dramatic entrance would be followed by a slew of harsh admonitions, and this encounter—Naoya could tell—would be no different.

The astringency cast on his father's countenance gave the executive no other choice than to rise from his seat, his office chair sliding back so he could pose tall and confident as the heir to Japan's largest conglomerate should be.

"Father," he greeted, curt.

Taking hurried steps around his mahogany desk, Naoya aimed to meet the older man halfway until he instead came into contact with one harsh blow that sent his face flogging to the side.

Naoya froze, his gaze lowered.

Instinctively, he reached for his throbbing cheek with one hand as the other wiped briefly over his busted upper lip. To have his father approach him physically like this didn't even register as a surprise. Despite his title as the Zenin CEO, Naoya continued to be scolded, lectured, and outright ignored because, in his father's words, he 'never seemed to get anything right.'

Even now, the older man found no hesitation in cursing out his only child.

"You fucking son of a whore! Want to explain why your affair with Toji's ex-wife is all over Japanese media?!"

Slowly, Naoya lifted his eyes from the floor. He had suspected that this would be the topic of discussion. In the last hour, Naoya saw his name plastered over tabloid pages, news websites, and social media feeds as an anonymous whistleblower tipped publishers in regards to his scandalous affair with Mari—and the millions Naoya spent to hide it. Evidence ranging from supposedly long-gone paparazzi photos to screenshots of money transfers circulated quickly with the internet.

Naturally, Naoya had seen the headlines too...

'Zenin Corporation CEO Exposed for Concealing Affair with Predecessor's Ex-Wife' 'Everything to Know About the Zenin Household's Uncovered Drama in Family, Business, and Love' 'Billionaire Naoya Zenin Entangled in Cheating Scandal, Accused of Bribing Press to Silence Coverage'

...and the comments:

'That’s why you can’t trust rich people. They never have any shame.' 'His wife and company deserve better.' 'Disappointed that this is the scumbag leading our country's largest company.' 'The Board should fire him.’

Now, that last comment struck a very particular chord, especially since the Chairman of that very Board stood before him.

Naoya clenched his hands, yet he stood mute. With every wrong move certain to cost him far too much in return, he was completely powerless in front of the family patriarch and, as a result, his first logical reaction was to defend himself.

"I do not have the evidence yet, but I am certain Toji had planned this, Father. Him, and also Sukuna, Geto, and Choso. All four leaked these details because they didn’t want to see your son succeed. I will resolve this. I am going to call Toji immediately and—“

"You're right," Naobito interrupted coldly. "If Toji had still been CEO today, he would've made sure that none of this bullshit would’ve happened.”

Naoya widened his eyes in bewilderment, not anticipating his father to twist his logic like that. He already received a literal slap across his face, but to realize that Naobito still compared him to his older cousin all these months later drove him insane!

"No, Father. What I meant was—"

"Oh, there is no need to correct me. I know what you meant," Naobito tested in a low voice. "What I gathered from this conversation is that I have given you a million chances in life, and you know what? You blew every single one of them. You're an asshole, you're a cheater, and you're a complete humiliation. I can always count on you to paint me as a failed father."

Outrageous.

With the bitter staring contest between father and son, the latter boiled internally listening to the insults from the man who sired him. For the ruthless Naobito Zenin, Naoya meant no value as an heir without the ability to achieve his high standards. 

"Some twisted brain you have for sleeping with your cousin's ex-spouse,” Naobito then chided, yet amusement remained absent in his tone. “Was that the low-class tramp I saw in the photos with you on the private jet the other day?"

The blonde kept his mouth shut.

But his father wanted an answer. "Well?!"

Suck it in, Naoya. That's all you can do now. "Yes."

What a sight, to see how someone blazing as a furious flame then erupt into a violent volcano. Naobito grabbed his son's collar, pulling him forward and shoving him against the wall. His fists shook as he sought the other's gaze.

"You're fucking married, you realize that?!" he snarled.

"I do! Which is why I have cut Mari from my life! I don't talk to that woman anymore."

Unimpressed, Naobito tugged forcefully at Naoya's shirt again. "I am truly astonished by what an idiot you are. Your answer doesn't change shit." He tightened his grip and did not care that his son wrapped both hands around his wrist to prevent himself from choking. "Let me tell you something, boy. I did everything—everything—to convince our Chief Operating Officer to let his treasured daughter marry you, you despicable bastard. He didn't want to hand the girl over because he knew—oh, that man is wise!—he knew that the union mainly served as a tactic to improve your public image and that there was little obvious benefit for his child. Power and money did not interest him when compared to his daughter, so the one promise I made is that you would love her," and he roared, "so, what the hell have you done?!"

Naoya had heard his father’s warnings countless times, yet he previously brushed each one aside with an ambivalence he now acknowledged as foolish. Unlike before, the threat to his hard-earned position suddenly became very, verypalpable. He grappled with a strange fear, unable to pinpoint what precisely unsettled him the most. The scorn from a world that no longer saw him as an honest businessman? The sneers from relatives with an undeniable reason to mock him? Or perhaps the fury from his draconian father, whose disappointment cut deeper than any public disgrace?

"I—" Naoya's choked voice resembled a croak. He could hardly breathe. "I apologize. This entire situation...this got out of my control."

Alongside his callous disregard for his son’s feelings, the Zenin patriarch even scoffed.

"This isn’t about getting out of your control, boy. This is about your complete lack of judgment. In fact, Daisuke called me when he saw the headlines, and you know what he told me?" and he had to refrain from flinging his son onto the ground before he continued, "That Y/N's been staying in her family residence again because she is going to leave you!"

Naoya held his next breath. Fuck, he knows. Naoya intended to keep his recent arguments with you a secret, hoping to resolve the situation first. However, since your father snitched...lying would be a dangerous move.

"I have not seen Y/N in a week because we've had a few fights." Naoya did not dare admit the details about how you two became arguing spectacles, first in his cousins' presence and later on at the café. "Just...marriage quarrels. We will get over—"

“She would be a moron to stay married to you,” Naobito cut off. "Y/N and your unborn child deserve more than to have a public disgrace like you in the household."

Right. Had he not been reminded, Naoya would've forgotten that he had lied to his father about your pregnancy, too. His hands grew clammy where they still seized his father’s wrist.

“There"—a cough—"there is no child,” Naoya blurted out, determining to rip all bandaids off in one go.

Naturally, his father became perplexed.

“Excuse me?” His hold loosened just enough for Naoya to gasp properly for his next breath.

“Y/N is not pregnant,” Naoya repeated, his voice hollow with resignation. “During our last family dinner, I only said that because I wanted to please you.”

The older Zenin became still, appalled by the younger one's bravery to say those words. For a moment, Naoya braced himself for another physical blow before his father released him, shoving Naoya backward such that he stumbled.

“If you weren’t so disappointing, there would be no need for you to lie to me,” Naobito pointed out coldly. "Not only to me, but also your wife, your colleagues, and your shareholders on matters about your family, your marriage, or your commitment to the company. If Toji had not brought this to the media's attention, how much longer would you have manipulated the truth for your benefit?"

There he went again.

"I don't understand," Naoya protested, unable to contain his frustration any longer. "Toji doesn't belong in this family anymore! Why do you keep talking about him? Father, you forced him to leave earlier this year, citing his threat to our family and company's reputation."

"You're the one to talk!" Naobito shot back. "At least Toji has the brain that you utterly lack." Before the younger man could react, the Chairman had already turned on his heel. "I have made my decision."

His decision?

A confused Naoya watched his father head for the exit.

"Wait, Father...!"

"Enough!" The infuriated man raised a hand right as he neared the door, a warning for him to not speak further. "Our discussion has concluded. Effective immediately, Toji Fushiguro has been re-instated as the Zenin Heir and CEO."

Instantly, Naoya slumped forward in disbelief.

Even as the older man disappeared, the room appeared to spin dangerously. Toji Fushiguro...re-instated? As the heir and CEO?

Naobito Zenin could never make up his mind, now could he? In Naoya's head, this must be some cruel joke.

Ever since he comprehended his ability to bend fate to his will, he had promised himself to fight tooth and nail to defend the (very rightful!) position that he worked hard to earn. He had disposed of his cousin through slander, he had to put up with shitty corporate politics, and, hell, he had to even marry you!

Some may label Naoya's current negative publicity as irredeemable, but he held hope the situation would normalize once the steam blew over.

With these thoughts in mind, Naoya regained his balance and rushed out as well. "Father!"

However, by the time he reached beyond the doors, Naobito Zenin was no longer there. Even his secretary could not be found as, instead, two imposing figures stood by the desk where his assistant should be. Naoya didn't recognize them. The men were tall and well-built, their muscled arms and thighs visible despite the fabric that covered their tattooed skin.

"Nice to meet you," one started after the long silence. "I am Eso and this is my younger brother Kechizu."

A stumped Naoya frowned.

"May...I help you?"

"No," the other answered nonchalantly, "because we are here to knock you out."

"Wha—"

And Naoya's vision went dark.

last chapter || next chapter

end notes: Note that Eso and Kechizu are Choso's younger brothers in JJK. (Both are not completely human in canonverse, but we shall suspend beliefs.) Also, I cannot explain the satisfaction as I wrote about Naoya and his mistress finally getting wrecked! Talk about justice being served! There were many ways these scenes could have played out, but I strategically chose Tsumiki and Naobito as the agents in the discussions. Freed from corporate America handcuffs, I plan to post again soon. Love you all!

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