Belladonna

If your doctor makes multiple documents confirming that you suffer from alopecia because of stress and the medicine you have to take for your epilepsy and that wearing a bonnet or something is recommended for your mental health as you’re not ready to go out bald in high school as a teenage girl, instead of admitting they are wrong the school will accuse the doctor of lying and report him to the Ordre des Médecins (equivalent of the General Medical council). Your doctor will find himself asking you for a document stating that you are not Muslim in order to defend himself and prove that no he wasn’t colluding with you so you could wear a substitute for hijab.

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In France if you are a North African nurse at a public hospital and wear a fabric surgical cap they will try to make you remove it because apparently it’s a hidden hijab. They will accuse you of going against secularism and when you’ll argue that they are discriminating you by assuming you’re Muslim for a surgical cap on your head they will change their angle and claim that you should wear nothing on your hair because you wear the same surgical cap in multiple bedroom which is unhygienic apparently (which is a bullshit argument cause you wear the same scrub/uniform in different bedrooms as well). They will go as far as claiming that disposable scrub caps (you know the thin papery ones?) are not okay to wear in a hospital even if you change it regularly. And then they will fire you for a lack of hygiene because you wear a surgical cap.

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All of that will be done in the name of secularism and women’s right despite having nothing do with either quite the opposite.

The rule for loose shorts for men has been a thing for decades and it’s because some men wear them outside as well and because men would use actual shorts as swimsuits.

As for the rules not being about banning Muslim women from swimming I don’t know your age but I’m old enough to remember when going to a public swimming pool with a hijab on to keep an eye on your kids and without getting in the water was okay. I’m old enough to remember when wearing a short and T-shirt over your swimsuit at the border of the water when you weren’t swimming was perfectly okay as well. I remember when swimsuits with skirts or shorts attached to them were allowed.

All the extra rules you mentioned started being put in place AFTER the “burkini” ban when they realized that the majority of Muslim women who were going in public swimming pools were not hijabi but still liked to be more modest and wear swimming skirts or shorts and stuff like that.

husband!sukuna : lost in japan

throat suddenly dry, you swallow hard.

you almost want to get on your knees and beg that a day out with your family would go normally.

that you wouldn’t be stuck in your current predicament.

with furrowed brows you look to the left, at your husband.

gosh..

he’s in a worser state than you.

you’ve never seen sukuna like this, his serious expression a stark contrast against the lively joy of the amusement park. with his clenched jaw and eyes darting every which way.

in search.

sukuna’s eyes narrow when you touch him on the shoulder.

“i’m sure he’s somewhere here..” you’re not sure whether you’re reassuring yourself or him, “we’ll find him”

your son, 6 year old baby!yuji is lost.

My Chemical Romance pride edits for @urfavshowpony!

> disables a new AI feature that was turned on by default

> opens my email

> disables a new AI feature that was turned on by default

> launches a software

⊱ ۫ ׅ✧ m.list

quiet sobs escape you as you stand bare in front of the bathroom mirror, observing your new body after pregnancy.

you knew pregnancy would change you — both emotionally and physically. that was a given. but you never expected to loathe yourself so much afterwards, to face the mirror and barely recognise yourself.

more quiet sobs slip out as you run your fingers over your now soft tummy, no longer flat and firm, littered with stretch marks.

your eyes trail further up, taking notice of your puffy nipples, still sore from nursing, scattered with blue and purple veins.

for the first time in your life, you hated yourself. you quickly went from quietly sobbing to full on bawling once you began to imagine what toji must think of you.

then, the bathroom door swings open.

toji catches sight of your red, puffy eyes, cheeks stained with tears, his expression immediately softening. you quickly reach for a towel, trying to hide your new body from him until he steps closer, placing two hands on your hips.

"why’s my girl cryin’, hm?" he asks, his thumbs circling your hips reassuringly. “don’t look at me, i’m disgusting," you sniffle in response, turning your face to look away from him.

almost instantly after, he moves one hand from your hip, cupping your cheek and turning you back to face him, wiping a stray tear from your cheek.

"don’t ever say that shit again, ya’ hear? toji says, his voice softer than usual, almost breaking a little from the thought of you hating yourself this much.

"m’sorry," you sob, leaning your forehead against his chest, wetting his shirt with your tears.

he presses a tender kiss to the top of your head, then tilts your chin back up with two fingers so that you’re looking at him. "even more beautiful than the day i met you."

he crouches down slowly, face now level with your tummy. he holds your thighs gently as he kisses you there, then presses his lips to each stretch mark, each one a reminder of the happiness you brought into the world.

"all mine," he mutters, kissing his way up your body, reaching your breasts.

he kisses each nipple, making your breath hitch, your tears beginning to stop flowing from your eyes. “love these tits even more now," he says, gently grasping both swollen mounds, careful he doesn’t cause you any discomfort.

you’d never seen him this gentle, this patient. your hand finds his hair, fingers threading through the black strands. “just wanna be perfect for you," you sniffle.

he stands again, pulling you gently against his chest. "always perfect f’me. always will be."

you wrap your arms around toji’s waist, hugging him tightly like you’re scared to let go.

“cmon, let’s get y’into bed. atta girl," he says, encouraging your arms around his shoulders, legs around his waist as he carries you to bed with ease.

a gentle reminder that no matter how much you weigh, or how much your body changes, it made no difference to him.

he lays you down onto the bed, climbing in next to you before tugging you onto his chest. “love you so much," you whisper, settling against him as he pulls the sheets over you both.

“love you, my pretty girl.”