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blackstarlineage · 3 months ago

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Limited Financial Literacy and Wealth Management in the Black Community: A Garveyite Perspective

Introduction: Economic Power as the Foundation of Black Liberation

Marcus Garvey understood that political freedom is meaningless without economic independence. He believed that for Black people to be truly free, they had to control their own economies, industries, and institutions. Garvey once stated:

“A race that is solely dependent upon another for its economic existence sooner or later dies.”

Yet, in modern times, the Black community continues to struggle with limited financial literacy, poor wealth management, and economic dependency.

Generational wealth is rarely passed down due to a lack of long-term financial planning.

Black spending power is high, yet most of this wealth flows out of Black communities into white-owned corporations.

Many Black families live paycheck to paycheck, unable to invest in land, businesses, or other wealth-building assets.

From a Garveyite perspective, this lack of financial education and economic control is one of the greatest obstacles to Black liberation. Until Black people master financial literacy and wealth management, they will remain vulnerable to exploitation and economic servitude.

1. The Historical Roots of Black Economic Disempowerment

A. The Legacy of Slavery and Economic Exclusion

During slavery, Black people were denied the right to own property, earn wages, or accumulate wealth.

After emancipation, racist policies such as Black Codes, Jim Crow laws, and sharecropping ensured that Black people remained economically oppressed.

Redlining, discriminatory banking practices, and racist housing policies prevented Black families from building generational wealth.

B. The Destruction of Black Economic Movements

Throughout history, whenever Black people built strong economic foundations, white supremacy actively sabotaged them:

Tulsa’s Black Wall Street (1921) was burned down in one of the worst race massacres in U.S. history.

Rosewood, Florida (1923) was another thriving Black community destroyed by racist mobs.

Marcus Garvey’s Black Star Line was sabotaged by the U.S. government agencies and internal betrayals, preventing Black economic self-sufficiency.

These attacks created a culture of economic fear and dependency, where many Black people stopped believing in their ability to control their own wealth.

C. The Shift Toward Consumerism Over Ownership

Instead of prioritizing land, business ownership, and self-sufficiency, many Black communities have been conditioned to focus on spending rather than investing.

Integration into white economies led to the collapse of many Black-owned businesses, as Black consumers began spending their wealth outside of their own communities.

Today, Black buying power in the U.S. exceeds $1.7 trillion, yet very little of that money stays in Black communities.

This cycle of high spending and low investment keeps Black people economically powerless.

2. The Consequences of Limited Financial Literacy in the Black Community

A. Generational Poverty & Wealth Gaps

The average Black family's wealth is significantly lower than that of white families due to a lack of inherited assets.

Many Black families do not pass down property, businesses, or financial knowledge, forcing each generation to start over.

Without financial literacy, many Black people fall into debt traps, poor credit, and unstable financial situations.

B. Economic Dependency & Vulnerability

Black people remain financially dependent on white-owned banks, businesses, and corporations.

Without economic independence, Black workers are at the mercy of racist hiring practices, wage discrimination, and economic downturns.

The lack of Black-owned financial institutions means Black wealth is constantly controlled by non-Black interests.

C. Lack of Black Business Ownership & Community Development

Only a small percentage of Black businesses receive venture capital, bank loans, or community investment.

Many Black entrepreneurs struggle to scale their businesses due to limited financial education and funding access.

Black neighborhoods often lack grocery stores, banks, and essential businesses, making them reliant on white-owned corporations.

Without strong Black financial networks, Black communities remain economically stagnant.

3. The Garveyite Solution: Financial Literacy as a Tool for Black Liberation

A. Teaching Financial Literacy from an Early Age

Black families must prioritize financial education in the home, teaching children about:

Saving and investing

Credit and debt management

Entrepreneurship and wealth-building

Schools in Black communities should incorporate mandatory financial literacy programs focused on:

Budgeting and money management

Stock market and investment strategies

Real estate and homeownership

Education is the first step toward economic empowerment.

B. Creating Black-Owned Financial Institutions

More Black-owned banks and credit unions must be established to provide financial services that cater to Black economic needs.

Black people should redirect their money into Black-owned banks and investment funds to build community wealth.

Cooperative economics should be prioritized, where Black investors pool resources to fund businesses, real estate, and development projects.

Garvey believed that Black people must control their own financial institutions to ensure true independence.

C. Prioritizing Ownership Over Consumerism

Black people must shift from being consumers to being investors and producers.

Instead of spending billions on luxury brands, Black communities must invest in land, businesses, and industries.

Black celebrities, athletes, and high-income earners should prioritize investing in Black-owned enterprises instead of white-owned corporations.

Wealth accumulation should be about long-term growth, not short-term spending.

D. Rebuilding Black Business Districts & Economic Hubs

Black communities must establish modern "Black Wall Streets" that focus on:

Black-owned banks and financial institutions.

Black manufacturing and production centres.

Pan-African trade networks.

Government policies should be challenged to allocate reparations, land grants, and business funding to Black entrepreneurs.

Economic self-reliance must be a core principle of Black liberation.

4. Action Plan: Steps to Financial Empowerment in the Black Community

A. Individual & Family-Level Actions

Open accounts with Black-owned banks and investment firms.

Teach children about saving, investing, and business ownership from an early age.

Prioritize homeownership and land acquisition over renting and temporary wealth.

B. Community-Level Actions

Establish financial literacy workshops in Black schools, churches, and community centres.

Support Black entrepreneurs and Black-owned businesses by intentionally spending within the community.

Form investment groups and cooperative businesses to pool resources and fund economic initiatives.

C. Global Black Economic Collaboration

African nations and the Black diaspora must create international trade agreements that empower Black businesses.

Encourage Pan-African banking and investment partnerships between Africa, the Caribbean, and Black America.

Develop Black-led multinational corporations that can compete with global industries.

Garvey envisioned a self-sustaining Black economy that connected Africa and the diaspora—this vision must be revived.

Conclusion: Black Liberation Requires Economic Independence

Garvey warned that:

"A people without the knowledge of their past history, origin, and culture is like a tree without roots." But financial illiteracy is like a tree without soil—without economic power, Black liberation is impossible.

If Black people continue to:

Spend instead of invest,

Finance non-Black businesses instead of building their own,

Ignore financial literacy instead of mastering wealth management,

They will remain economically enslaved.

However, if Black people:

Prioritize financial education and generational wealth,

Invest in Black-owned banks, businesses, and industries,

Build economic self-sufficiency through Pan-African cooperation,

Then true Black liberation can be achieved.

Garvey’s call remains: “Up, you mighty race, accomplish what you will!”

#black history #black people #blacktumblr #black tumblr #pan africanism #black #black conscious #africa #black power #black empowering #blog #BlackWallStreetRevival #FinancialFreedom #buy black #BlackWealth #EconomicLiberation #Garveyism #marcus garvey

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yestrnight · 10 months ago

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˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ PURI☆PURI HEALING CUM GO! magical girl! childe / fem! reader

SUBJECT: oh no! while fighting the big bad monster, pure☆aqua accidentally let you, a civillian, get caught in the crossfire! before you transform into one of the baddie's goons, pure☆aqua needs to give you a magical girl's cum before it's too late!

ATTACHED: kinktober 2024 masterlist

( reader n childe are switches, age gap: reader is nearing 30s and childe is college-aged, throatfúcking, perversion, theyre both perverts tbh, i switch between calling childe a magical girl n boy cuz hes both in a way yanno )

Most times in Lovey♡Dovey City, everything is all right in the world.

It’s a city overrun by dreaming and fashionable youths, appearing on magazine covers in their tweens and even designing for companies in their high school years. Handsome young men vie for pretty young girls who smile and giggle sweetly whenever they pull out a confession in the streets, and everyone just walks by like it’s nothing. Because it is nothing. This happens almost every day and no one bats an eye at it.

Except for you, who’s been role-assigned as the tired corporate slave who’s this close to losing their mind if you have to stomach another stupid fucking confession.

Aside from the vomit-inducing PDA that you have to tolerate every single day, Lovey♡Dovey City is pretty much a utopia to live in. The people are nice (except you), shops like to give away free things (you’ve been living off your neighborhood bakery’s bread), and they’re all pretty much attractive. It’s a city where people actually do what they need to do for the community, which includes you, because every functional society is backed by some sort of capitalist system. Hell, even the police try to do the best they can. Which isn’t much, but you can’t blame them.

Because once in a while, monsters overrun the city like it’s their goddamn place. And the police can’t do much about it because these monsters are freaking skyscrapers and their masters (dressed in black and dark purple and atrociously edgy makeup) all float and shoot off magical beams and cackle evil witch laughs. Yes, this is normal. You’re actually watching another evil entity looming over the city with a goon seated on their shoulder, munching on your bread like it’s no big deal. The majority of the people run and scream like the monster’s actually gonna do something, but you and a few others stay behind to watch the show that’s about to unfold.

“In the name of Love, the Pure☆Pures have come to stop you!” A girly voice shouts. You can barely make them out, standing on the edge of a building, but their voice magically resounds through the city. There are three of them today, and they’re clutching something to their chests as they bravely stare down the monster and its master.

“Come on, everyone! Let’s stop them!” The leader urges the other two, raising the star wand high in the air. “Pure☆Pure, ignite!”

Flash and sparkle ensue, and you and the other peasants down below gawk at the transformation sequence. They’re all glittery and pretty, as always, and while it is a sight to behold you always find yourself musing why the enemy just waits. Like, they’re right there. Naked save for strobes of light that will eventually turn into their sparkly sailor costumes. Of course, you don’t have any say in the matter, not when the Pure☆Pures are always saving your city from so-and-so evil organizations. Instead, you continue munching on your bread as they finish up their little show.

“Sweet as pie, Pure☆Cherry!” That’s this generation’s leader, always in pink, just like her predecessors. She's fresh-faced and youthful, probably in her first year of high. What’s with these teens and fighting magical monsters, anyway? In high school, you were just playing at the arcade or goofing around like stupid kids do. You know, doing ordinary stuff and not saving the world.

“Stars, shine on me! Pure☆Twinkle!” This one is clad in yellow, hair a blazing sunset orange that you think is supposed to mimic a comet’s trail. She’s always upping the fanservice for the onlookers, so she’s amassed herself a bigger fan following than the others. There’s some people squealing beside you, furiously snapping away at their pictures, and you’re not quite sure how to feel when she looks barely legal.

“Ocean tides, rage! Pure☆Aqua!” Ah, yes, the most controversial one of this generation. Because he was male. Magical boys aren’t a new concept, but everyone until now was always… feminine in stature. So people managed to overlook that when they were just as cute as the rest of the magical girls. But this one was, well. You squinted your eyes as Pure☆Aqua launched forward and delivered a swift kick to the monster’s face. He was very muscled; god-like thighs made even more so prominent by the frilly blue skirt he donned and the heavy chest attracting gazes with the boob window. This one was also older, probably in their college years.

So no one’s going to call you a freak if you found him sorta hot, right? You’re not even thirty yet!

The other girls barrage the monster with sparkly magic stuff. Pure☆Cherry swishes her wand and after a mini light-show reveals a… grenade launcher. Archons, what happened to the good-ol’ cutesy bow and arrow? She makes a leap back and shouts “Take this…! Cherry♡Bomb♡Love!”

Pure☆Twinkle follows up the very, very pink attack with her rapier, running up the monster’s arm and leaping into the air. “Star☆Cut!” You’ve long opted to think that those aren’t actually real stars falling from the sky and are just illusions as she summons a whole backdrop of them to chop off the monster’s arm. The huge thing lets out a pained roar, flailing about as their arm vanishes into nothing. That’s the thing with these magical girl fights. Where the hell was the blood?! Or is it because these things are just visualized concepts of “humanity’s evil” or whatever explanation they feed to the masses that they don’t really have guts to spill?

“And here’s the final blow!” Pure☆Aqua yells out, launching himself into the air. He swings his arm back, concentrating all the force in his fist and grits his teeth. “Tiiidallll! Raaaage!”

He delivers a swift uppercut to the monster, with all the force and fury of a young man in his early 20s. There’s no sparkly effects, hell, no water illusions just to match the theme to accompany the blow. That was just an uppercut with a tacky name slapped on top, and you let out a low whistle as pure brawn and no magic cuts through the chest and evaporates the thing. In midair, Pure☆Twinkle stomps her foot and puffs out her cheeks. “Cute!! Do you not understand what cute means?!” She complains at the sheepish Pure☆Aqua. “What’s the point of being a magical girl if you keep throwing punches and no cuteness!”

“I got the job done, didn’t I?” Pure☆Aqua complains, flying next to her. Pure☆Cherry also approaches the two of them with a nervous look on her face, as if afraid of another fight breaking out. “Besides, I think I’m cute enough as it is!”

Pure☆Twinkle wrinkles her nose at him and gags. “Yeah, right! You musclehead! When we’re done with this I’m going to beat cuteness into you!!”

“L-Lumi— I mean Twinkle! I think Aqua did a good job as it is,” Pure☆Cherry nervously tries to mediate. “You don’t have to be so hard on him!”

“Oh, don’t spoil him, Nil– Cherry! He’s bad enough as it is!”

They ignore the aghast goon in favor of even more bickering and you can see the vein popping on his forehead as he continues to be ignored by the magical girls. “You…!!!” He points an indignant finger at three triumphant magical girls (and boy). “Loss after loss after loss! Lady Celestia is going to beat the living lights outta me if I don’t report back something good!”

“And that’s our problem, how?” Pure☆Aqua snorts, hands on hips because even he can have the sass of a teenage girl when he feels like it.

The goon laughs maniacally, floating higher in the air as purple currents wrap his body and continue to grow bigger and bigger. The tiny hairs on your nape rise, and the people who stayed behind finally think that this is the best time to make a run for it. “Oh, I’ll give you a problem, alright!” They laugh, sneering at the magical girls as their power comes to a climax. “I’m not goin’ back until I make a mess out of this stupid city!”

Finally, the goon’s power explodes, sending purple shockwaves throughout the city. You feel the ground shake beneath your feet, sending you flat on your ass. You couldn’t run if you wanted to, not with purple projectiles showering everywhere like a meteor shower. The girls are doing their best to fend it off, but not everyone can be saved. Especially you, flat on the ground and staring dumbly at an incoming purple ball. Well, this was fun, you think as the light burns into your retinas. You got to see your favorite Pure☆Pure in action and his muscled thighs, so this was a life well-lived.

You feel the impact on your skin and you squeeze your eyes tight to brace yourself for the incoming pain. It’s… hot. But not burning-alive hot that you thought would be, but rather a feverish heat that eats your body alive and turns your head all woozy. You squeeze your thighs together and curl into yourself, trying to get a bearing of your senses. You don’t know what the evil man’s plan is. Is your death supposed to be a slow process?

“... lright? You alright?” You can barely process the worried questions barraging your ear as cotton seems to stuff your ear. You blearily open your eyes, still curled on the ground, and— oh. In your face is a chestful of pecs, framed by the heart-shaped boob window of your favorite Pure☆Pure. Hallucinations? Did this curse give you hallucinations? Because this might be the best fucking hallucination you could get so far.

“Mmm… nice,” you mumble, leaning into the hand of the Pure☆Pure cupping your face.

“Not nice!” Pure☆Aqua cries as he checks your forehead’s feverish temperature. “You’ve gotten hit by a curse! You need to be healed, quick!”

“Heal…?” You feel for the hand on your head and let out a grunt once you confirm that Pure☆Aqua is actually not a hallucination. “Oh. Uh, how?”

Even through your bleary eyesight, you can make out the blush on Pure☆Aqua’s cheeks as he bites his lip and squirms. “Um, well… You… You need a magical girl’s, uh, magic. To purify the Evil League’s curse. But to do that we need to go somewhere… somewhere private. I can’t have you take it on the asphalt!”

“Take me away then, Pure☆Aqua,” you murmur, clinging onto Pure☆Aqua as he carries you bridal-style. Letting yourself take advantage of the situation and lean into his firm chest, you grin stupidly at the handsome face of your favorite magical girl. “I’m all yours for today.”

Biting down a grin, Pure☆Aqua shakes his head and flees the scene.

“A magical girl’s wand contains all their Pure☆Essence, which you need to take if we want to purify you,” Pure☆Aqua explains after he’s settled you on a bed. The room he’s found is suspiciously pink, with tacky hearts taking up the space wherever you look, but you’re not exactly in the right headspace to process that as you groan weakly. “It’s a long and lengthy process, however, so please bear with it, alright?”

“Magical girl’s wand, huh?” You mumble, looking up at Pure☆Aqua’s guilty expression. “All right,” you sigh and close your eyes as try to relax your feverish body. “Hit me with it.”

“Okay,” Pure☆Aqua murmurs and you hear him inhale deeply and perch himself on top of your legs. “I’m sorry, I’m really sorry.” You don’t know why he’s so apologetic. You were the stupid one who wanted to enjoy a show and not run away, therefore getting hit by a curse in the process. He was just doing his job as a Pure☆Pure, so you don’t—

Something hits your abdomen. Something hard… and fleshy. You peek open one eye and almost choke on your spit.

Kneeling above you, Pure☆Aqua lifts his skirt up to reveal his curved and erect cock hard against his stomach. You’re shocked out of your feverish stupor as you eye the angry veins running on his cock and the pearly precum drooling from the slit. He licks his lips as he watches your face, blushing deeply as he feels your intense gaze on his dick. He’s trying so, so hard to be professional. This is a magical girl’s job, after all! But he revels in your attention and shakes his dick just to see your gaze follow left and right to the rhythm of the swing.

“When you said magical girl’s wand… I thought you meant…” You swallow dryly as you follow his swaying cock. “I thought you meant the one you used to transform. Not, uh…”

“Not this wand?” He rubs the tip of his dick before pushing it down, letting you watch as he releases it and feels the slap against his abdomen. “Do you like it, pretty miss? Miss [Your Name]?”

You blink dumbly at him, your mouth falling agape. “Whuh? Huh? How did you—?”

He giggles, crawling over to your chest until he sees the shadow of his cock on your face. “Oh come on, big sis. You really don’t think I wouldn’t notice my most adoring fan? The one who comes late to work whenever a big fight breaks out just to watch me?” He lightly taps your lips with it, and you let out a shaky breath to which he whines at. “Your eyes always watching me… not on Cherry or Twinkle or Melody or Passion but me. It made me so happy, you couldn’t even begin to imagine it ♡” You feel his member throb on your cheek and gulp. Oh you can definitely imagine it, alright.

This feels all too unreal. One moment you were watching Pure☆Aqua from afar, content on only ever seeing him at a distance. Then the next you were bridal-carried into some sort of sketchy love hotel with your favorite magical girl’s dick slapped on your face. His hungry eyes looked at your eagerly as he lifted his skirt higher to show you everything.

One thing caught your attention and before your impulse control could even do something, you and your big stupid mouth blurted out, “You’re… wearing normal underwear.”

Pure☆Aqua blinks and stares at you blankly, before erupting into laughter. “Wha~at? Were you expecting something else, big sis?”

“I dunno…” You mumble, fingering the band of his white briefs. “Something with a ribbon, frills… something that matches your magical girl costume.” You pull the elastic band and grin mischievously when it slaps against his taut balls. “Something cute.”

He returns your naughty grin and giggles as he slips them off. “You big per~vert. I like it.” He boops you on the nose, leaning in close until you can feel the breath on your lips. “Next time, I’ll make sure to cater to your needs, okay?”

There’ll be a next time, you think in a daze when Pure☆Aqua backs himself up again and smears precum all over your lips. “Alright, time for the first injection~! Say ah~♡”

The corniness of the plot isn’t lost on you, but you find yourself not caring at all when you part your lips for the opportunity to taste your favorite boy’s cock. You wrap your lips around the head only, tracing the tongue around the tip as you watch his shallow breathing. You press gentle kisses on it and grin when he keens and squirms too much, clearly holding himself back from shoving the entire length in. When he thinks that you’re finally about to swallow the whole in, you sloppily suck on the tip before pulling away with a pop.

He pouts at you, breathing hard as he weakly glares. “Big sis, you need to take my cum in if you wanna get healed, you know?”

You give him a cheeky grin, pressing another kiss to his weeping slit as you snicker. “You can’t blame me for having a lil bit of fun. You are my favorite, after all.”

He huffs a laugh. “Very naughty. But patients shouldn’t be playing around with their medicine, you know? So open up properly this time, okay~?”

His broad shoulders shudder when he slips half of his length into your mouth. “I’ll go slow for now,” he tells you, but his knees are shaking so bad that you fear that he’ll buckle and slam the whole thing into you. Not that you’re opposed to him just slamming it in… but you haven’t sucked dick in ages (damn overtime work) and you want to savor the feeling of his heat filling your mouth. As you feel his precum trickle down your throat, the fuzziness of your head starts to clear a little and you marvel at how his cum was actually doing… magic. Healing cum, you think, clutching onto his soft ass as you struggle to take his length. What kind of shit hentai am I in?

Your choked slurping and sucking rattle in your skull as you move back and forth on his dick, eyes rolling backward whenever it twitches in your throat. It’s like it has a heart of its own, with the way it keeps twitching in you. Above you, Pure☆Aqua bites into a frilly gloved hand, little moans and whines escaping him as he tries his best to control himself. Ah, the impatience of youth. Always so ready to go fast without a second’s thought.

“‘m sorry, miss, but I— urgh— I gotta!” His hands bunch your hair in his palm as he gives you a desperate look. “I can’t do this anymore!”

Using your hair as a handle, he slams you all the way down to his balls, and you fall limp as Pure☆Aqua starts fucking your mouth for his own pleasure. The veins running on the side of his dick slide against your soft tongue and gosh, your mouth’s so fuckin’ warm and wet that it’s making him go crazy. Over the wet and sloppy sounds of him ruining your throat, his moans are music to your ears— his boyish pitch keening in high moans and desperate pants as he tries his best not to cum too early. His dick twitches, making you splutter as he pulls out before slamming it in again, and his toned thighs shake as his slams get even rougher.

“Close, s’ close,” he whimpers. “Oh gosh, miss, miss, I’m gonna—!”

He lets out a high-pitched mewl, leaning forward into your mouth as he spurts his thick cum down your throat. It’s a heavy one, so thick that it leaves you gagging and spluttering as his load invades your throat. When he finally pulls it out— fuck, he could feel himself getting hard again. It’s an absolutely filthy sight— his hardening cock connected to your lips with a trail of spit and cum, your eyes absolutely fucked out as you cough and recover from the recent assault. He giggles when the trail finally breaks and leaves a mess on your chin, which he wipes away with his thumb and presses it to your tongue. Unconsciously, you find yourself swirling your tongue around the messy thumb and pulling away with a loud pop, grinning in a daze as you stick out your tongue for him to inspect.

“You swallowed it all,” he says softly, sounding proud as he pushes back your sweaty fringe. “With that, you’ll be all good to go.”

“But I still don’t feel too well,” you pout, taking his hand in yours and tangling your fingers together. It’s partly true, but you think that the dizziness is less from the curse and more that you had just gotten your mouth pounded to oblivion. “Maybe I need another shot. Somewhere more… effective?”

You partly spread your legs, letting your pencil skirt ride up your thighs and drawing his eyes to the lacy underwear peeking out from underneath. He laughs slightly and shares your mischievous grin as he takes the cloth in his hands. “Oh miss, you could just say that you wanted me to fuck you.”

Batting your eyes, you only cock your head in feigned innocence as you pull him in closer. “Whatever do you mean, boy?” You murmur, breath fanning against his lips as you lick your lips. “I’m only asking for another shot. You’re still here to help me cure this curse, right, Pure☆Aqua?”

Before he could even reply, you pressed a coy kiss on his lips and suddenly he couldn’t bring himself to think. It could have been cute and innocent— the type of kisses pure-hearted girls give their boyfriends in the spring of high school youth— but this is coming from a miss nearly a decade older than him. Your low-lidded eyes eat him up as his brain short circuits, watching as his tongue peeks out to swipe a taste of your gloss. You could almost giggle at the picture. By how he’s reacting, you could have mistaken it for stealing his first kiss.

Except he’s staring at you blankly, wide-eyed, and a blush that grows even redder by the second. You raise a brow and ask, “Don’t tell me… that was your first kiss?”

His blush reaches an all-time red that you fear that he might explode. “Th– Well, I was saving it!”

You throw your head back and laugh as he sputters and tries to defend himself in the background. Right. How could you forget? Having his dick down your throat made you forget that he was still a Pure☆Pure, defenders of the city that embodied pureness and justice. “So cute~” you tease and pat down his ginger locks as a way to soothe him. “Big sis is sorry that she stole your first kiss, but dooon’t worry, I’ll more than make up for it, ‘kay~?”

He can barely process what he’s looking at. You’re now seated on his stomach, kneeling as you tease him with a slow strip show. Your manicured nails slide down the pencil skirt, revealing the lacy panties that have been torturing him ever since he got a glimpse of it. And fuck, his breath hitches when he sees the wet spot, and when you pull it down, your slick is connected to it by a string. Fuckfuckfuck, he can’t believe he’s gotten it this good. How many college boys could brag that they’ve fucked a sexy nearly-30 office worker because they needed to heal them with dick? None. Ignoring the fact that he might be the only college-aged magical boy in existence, he can’t believe that he wouldn’t be able to brag about this at all the parties now.

But that’s okay, he thinks as his eyes settle on your sopping pussy, fluttering and flirting at him. He’d be too busy fucking and getting fucked to even attend those stupid get-togethers.

“Shit.” He sucks his teeth, inhaling deeply when you sliiiide against the length of his cock. You know exactly how to work your magic— the silly, blushy girls of the local college could never. Your grin, like a succubus who's caught its prey, is so alluring and cocky that he’s tempted to kiss it off you just to feel your lips on him again. He’s so down bad. Holy shit. Lumine isn’t gonna let him hear the end of this.

“That feels nice, pretty boy?” You coo, and oh, that does something to him. He pulses against your clit, and you drag your slick against him as he starts whimpering underneath you. “Ya like being called pretty, hm? My favorite magical boy, lookin’ all so pretty just to save some stranger.” You lift his blue miniskirt, admiring the white ribbons and frills that adorn him. “I never thought that the day would come that I’d be able to see you so closely, dick out and moaning so prettily for me. Aren’t magical girls supposed to be pure? So why’re you actin’ like a slut then?”

He pouts, batting his pretty lashes at you as you continue to frot against him. “‘m— ngh, not actin’ like a slut! This is— ahh, no not thereeee— your treatment!”

You laugh. “Oh, right. The curse. I guess you skull fucked that outta my system.” You shoot him a dashing grin. “Guess that makes me the slut, huh?”

At that, you sink your pussy down on him, and holy shit— he throws his head back and hides his face with his arms as he moans so sweetly— this just might be heaven. He hears your cute little sigh as you feel him stretching you out, probably the best you’ve had in years. He feels it when you slowly push down on his abs so you can pull yourself up, making him groan as you drag your wet cunt up before slamming back down again. “Is that good, my little magical boy?” You hum, rocking your hips back and forth as you gauge his reaction. “C’mon, arms off. Lemme see how cute my boy is for me.”

Rolling his own hips, he fucks even deeper into your womb as you take his hands into yours. He’s big, your wet walls clinging to his cock like they never want to let go. And you might not ever want, not with how pretty your boy is for you. He’s biting back his moans, trying to reciprocate your rocking in a mix of his own desperation and wanting to please you. Cute. He’s so cute. That’s a given, being a magical girl and all, but you just didn’t want to sound like an old creep lusting after a college boy clad in skimpy skirts.

“You’re so, haah, y’ feel so good,” he nearly cries, fucking his dick even deeper that it nearly makes you collapse. “Big sis, ngh, ah, y’re clampin’ down on me…!”

“Yeah?” You coo. “That’s what good pussy feels like, baby. Remember it.” You slam your pussy down on his balls, squelching as your cunt slobbers all over his dick. “You’re so good, cutie. Big sis hasn’t had a dick like yours ever. Ya might turn me into your personal slut, y’know?”

“Ooh, miss, please, easy,” he whimpers. Your walls are tightening up around him and he goes blank for a second. Fuck. He’s getting hooked on some fan’s cunt and he doesn’t even know your name. “Miss, please, y’re gonna make me…!”

“Cumming, sweet boy?” You stroke his ginger curls and push them away, revealing to you the sight of his rolled-back eyes and wobbling bitten lips as he continues fucking your cunt. “Yeah, mmm, jus’ like that. You’re gonna make big sis cum soon too ♡”

It’s pure, carnal lust; you let him take the reins, halting your movements as he begins to fuck up into you harder. It smells like sex in here, and the sloppy sounds as your pussy squelches with every thrust nearly drowning out your moans. You gasp as he hits an all-new depth, making you collapse onto him as you grip the pillow for dear life as his thrusts rock your body. He’s whining and crying underneath you— which fuck, makes you tighter, because men who are messy in bed just make you sooo fucking hot. “Ack, ah, boy! Slow, slow, slow!”

“Sorry, miss…!” He whimpers, hugging onto you for dear life as he goes even faster. “Ngh, you’re too hot, I’m gonna…!”

Wrapping his arms around your neck, he pulls you down for a kiss as he shoots his load into you. His warm seed fills you as he attacks your mouth in desperation, all eagerness and no technique as he licks into your mouth. You think it’s adorable because he’s kissing you like he needs it.

Clearly, your magical boy can’t handle the hottest pussy he’s had in his life, cuz he’s now collapsed on the bed, chest heaving up and down like crazy. And you’re left there in the afterglow of the sex, watching magic cum dribble down your cunt as you slide his softening dick out of you.

It’s a good thing that he’s not conscious to see this, you think with a grin as you scoop out the cum out of your hole. Bringing it to your lips, you lick it off with a satisfying pop and give him a once-over. Because you’d definitely be in for round three if he gets hard again.

Another day, another overtime in Lovey♡Dovey City. For a shoujo-typical city, you’d think that there were no such things as black companies here. Alas, you stand corrected.

You scowl as the crowd squishes you into the corner. There’s you and this suspiciously dressed fella in a black mask and baseball cap. He has an ID sling from the local college and as the crowd has you pressing onto him with no choice, you can feel his hard-on growing against your pencil skirt. Ah, a pervert in a Japanese subway station? How surprising.

Then you feel his hand wrap around your wrist and guide it downwards, and you’ve got a growing feeling that the genre is about to change from shoujo to hentai real quick. You’ve no time for games, having just been chewed out by your boss, and when your hand is finally in his pants, you scowl and start to snap—

You feel frills. You blink dumbly and look down. He’s pulling down the waistband of his pants, just enough for you to see the blue cotton panties, cutely adorned in white ribbons and frills. Something pulls on your chest.

“Big sis.”

You look up again, and your magical boy grins at you when he pulls down his mask, eyeing you with the same hunger and lust-struck expression you’re so familiar with. “D’ya like 'em, miss? I’ve dressed up just for you and you only.”

You blink again, and your grin matches his as you watch his cock chub up against his girly panties.

Ajax Tartaglia, the ID reads.

Right. So the subway pervert was actually your pervert. But you were both perverts, and that was made clear the moment you started sliding down his pants in a subway full of unsuspecting strangers.

#genshin impact #genshin impact smut #genshin impact childe #genshin impact x reader #genshin smut #genshin x reader #childe #childe smut #childe x reader #nite.writes #nite.kinktober'24

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if-you-fan-a-fire · 3 months ago

Text

"The spectre of corporal punishment continued to hang over fishing communities in the early nineteenth century. An incident which occurred in Burin in 1810 illustrates the symbiotic relationship between sectarian tension, class conflict, and the use of public whipping. According to the local justice of the peace, the problem started when he sentenced a local man to be whipped:

In the first place a man was brought before me with a complaint that he had gone on board one of Mr. Spurrier's vessels, prevented the crew from working and beat two of them and threatened the master - his sentence was to receive 39 lashes at the usual place of punishment - but the morning the punishment should have taken place nearly the whole of the Irish servants came to Mr. Morris (a merchant here) and offered £150 rather than it should be executed (the punishment) - but they had said before should the prisoner be brought to the place of punishment, they would shed some blood and take him away by force - Some other cases of the same nature, and equally as bad, have now come before me - when the people have threatened to take the life of the first constable that should attempt to apprehend the offender.

The magistrate viewed this incident as involving much more than simply a protest against whipping. He portrayed it as the outbreak of a serious challenge to the social order which only the presence of the Royal Navy could extinguish:

The Irish servants (which are very numerous) are at this time absolutely in a state of mutiny and without some armed force be stationed here, the lives of the inhabitants are in danger. Probably on account of their wages they may be kept within bounds until the expiration of their time of servitude (20th October) but, when they become their own masters, I could not answer for them. If His Excellency therefore would have the goodness to station one of His Majesty's Schooners here for the Winter, it would have an excellent effect and I have not a doubt but that regularity and good behaviour would, by that means be kept in this district.

So long as servants were kept under contract, they were seen as controllable, but the justice of the peace dreaded the prospect of facing masterless men. Like his predecessors in the eighteenth century, he saw the Royal Navy as the vital safeguard of authority."

- Jerry Bannister, The Rule of the Admirals: Law, Custom, and Naval Government in Newfoundland, 1699-1832 (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2003), 253-254.

#corporal punishment #royal navy #newfoundland history #newfoundland #popular protest #irish immigration to canada #public punishment #vagrancy #mutiny #academic quote #reading 2024 #fisheries workers #indentured servitude #history of crime and punishment in canada

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crapeaucrapeau · 3 months ago

Note

I would love to hear any headcanons you have about Volus society!

Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy ! Thanks for the wonderful ask !

Okay, so this is all reliant on canon to some extent, and then I'm improvising. I'm interpreting your ask as the volus social organizations, but tell me if you want to know more about volus lifestyle !

So, when I come up with headcanons for societies, species, etc for Mass Effect, my rules are :

can I keep it canon-compliant ? I'm linking an old post on the volus canon here.

is there any existing science-fiction I can use as the basis for an homage ? (much like the krogan are a riff on the Klingons and the Mandalorians, and the turians are based on Starship Troopers, and the quarians on Battlestar Galactica, etc)

can I make the society and species I'm working on less human and more alien ?

With the volus, there's an added consideration : since they are mostly space capitalists, it's hugely important not to end up recycling antisemitic stereotypes.

And so… My WIP at present…

Okay, so the volus. Main concern : freedom — you don't get a family name because this would suggest your family can own you. Main political unit : a tribe, a fluid polity, in dynamic configurations. This is interesting, because this is not a state, which is our go-to political structure on Earth : a tribe suggests relatively small numbers of people (but more than just various shades of relatives), with no strictly defined territory and no strict centralization of authority. A tribe is a community of citizens, and is indeed suggestive here of greater individual agency than the state. The capitalism of the volus and their eschewing of the state and stated attachment to freedom could suggest a form of anarcho-capitalism or other shades of libertarianism (see also : Rapture), but this is very cliché and therefore boring, and Bioshock kinda conclusively shows why it wouldn't last long.

At the same time, we should note that there are at least two states in the life of your average volus : the Turian Hierarchy (duh) and the Vol Protectorate itself. The Vol Protectorate is very state-like : it has diplomats acting as the exclusive representative of the volus and entitled to make decisions in their name (e.g. Din Korlack, Kwunu), it has an executive leader (i.e. the Chairman of the Vol Protectorate), it has a permanent bureaucracy (e.g. the Vol Ministry of the Frontier) and extensive patent laws. On the planetary level, Irune, at least, as a Senior Commerce Advisor (whatever that is) and police, with military titles (e.g. Major). And we have hints of state-like polities within the Protectorate in a few pieces of the canon : the "corporate nation of Binar" with a "master tradesman", Noval San, as a representative (ME3) ; or "the Nao Clan", with one Udra Nao acting as its spokesman (CDN). So obviously the volus as a whole are not pathologically adverse to the idea of a state, though the fact they prefer the small, dynamic, fluid tribe as their polity of choice means they're not fond of state restrictions either. See also : importance of freedom.

Speaking of the Nao Clan… something we don't talk about is the emphasis the volus place on clans, you Earth-clan. A "clan", in English, is a large group with a shared ancestry, actual or presumed ; this is in keeping with the fact all non-volus are addressed not by species but by homeworld, or native biosphere : Thessia-clan, Sur'Kesh-clan, Palaven-clan, etc. That suggests your species is less important than where you come from : your common ancestry is your biosphere. Since it's insulting to call quarians "clanless", then it's in some sense dishonorable to lose your homeworld (presumably not damage : humans are never disparaged for the poor state Earth is in). Your homeworld, in a sense… is your common()wealth. This is a thread that could be imagined as a strong environmentalist conscience, though it would need to be reconciled with the capitalism of the volus (SPOILERS : capitalism isn't good for your planet).

So, in the end, what we have are :

the Vol Protectorate : a supreme state-like authority

the tribes : socio-political units you willingly join and from which you can depart, the larger can engulf the smaller ones or split apart. Most of the tribes are fairly small and lack the structure of states, but we could understand "tribe" as reminiscent of the Latin tribus, which doesn't describe a polity but a component of a polity

the clans : individuals with common ancestry ; e.g. the Vol-clan : all volus ; lesser clans are people who've lived together in the same place for a long time. Tied to notions of land, place of origin, environment - hence why other species get [homeworld name]-clan, e.g. Thessia-clan, Sur'Kesh-clan, etc. In some cases (e.g. the Nao Clan), a tribe and a clan overlap ; in other cases (e.g. Binar), it clearly doesn't. You can give your clan - the unit you belong to whether you care to or not - as much or as little importance as you want, though you'll always be Vol-clan.

So how do I reconcile all of that and give you more substantial headcanons ?

I made the Vol Protectorate a panarchy.

Basically, a panarchy is the idea that you can join any nation and political system you want, and even form whichever you want, and a state structure exists only to make sure your right to do that is not suppressed. The idea is to take the liberal idea of competition in a free market is beneficial for the economy and the consumers, and expand it to politics. IRL, it has huge feasibility problems and issues which entail I find it quite unrealistic, but it just might work with non-human capitalists who have abolished violence.

So, in "my" Vol Protectorate, the volus don't have tribes because they are a pre-state society, they are in fact a post-state* society : you have a multiplicity of micro political and economic regimes - the tribes - who correspond to whatever shades of the human political spectrum you care to identify them with. You've got : Megachurches ! Corporate nations ! Anarcho-capitalist gulches ! Anarcho-communist communes ! Social liberal democracies ! Absolute monarchies ! An enclave of volus Hierarchy citizens who live by turian rules and expectations ! and so on. Among other things, the Vol Protectorate exists to make sure anyone can join or leave any of those tribes, and no one tries to impose their way of life on people outside of their tribe. That's why, in my headcanon, Gaffno Yap (from Mass Effect : Annihilation) was exiled twice from the Vol Protectorate : the problem wasn't that he was anarcho-communist, which was fine and dandy, the problem was that the people he inspired blew up "banks and treasuries and any place where there might be a lot of money or influence or money and influence all together in one spot" to abolish currency, personal property, capital and "trade itself". That being said, it's pretty clear that one of the common traits for the overwhelming majority of volus polities - the hegemony, one might say - is the legitimacy and attractiveness of capitalism.

Crucially, each tribe would have as little or as many laws as they'd like, decided through whatever process they want, as long as they didn't contravene the laws of the Protectorate, the Citadel or (as of the 8th century CE) the Turian Hierarchy.

Equally crucially, people from different tribes would share the same territories and infrastructure : you could be roommates with someone subject to an entirely different legal system than yours.

At this point, I didn't have much else, beside the idea of the Vol Protectorate being the Vol Commonwealth before they joined the Hierarchy. I had to… hit the books.

Were there any science-fiction novels out there which I could use as the basis for the structure of the panarchy in the Vol Protectorate ? I could find :

Heinlein's The Moon is a Harsh Mistress

Neal Stephenson's The Diamond Age

and Ada Palmer's Terra Ignota series.

Of those three, I found the last one most interesting and useful. The readers of Terra Ignota will read the following and recognize what I'm talking about. For example, the following based on the Universal Free Alliance :

Prerogatives of the Vol Protectorate

The specific and exclusive prerogatives of the Vol Protectorate include :

representing the volus before non-volus : - representation of the shared and unique interests of the citizens of the Vol Protectorate, all volus and all their properties, assets and commensals for their continued prosperity and well-being before the Citadel Council - representation of the same before the Turian Hierarchy, acting as an intermediary between the Turian Hierarchy and various volus interest groups

maintaining the interconnected systems all volus depend on to live and live well : - measuring and, if necessary, issuing alerts on the state of the various ecosystems supporting volus life, in particular Irune's biosphere ; should the government of the Vol Protectorate have reasonable evidence supporting the conclusion that state intervention is preferable to no intervention whatsoever in a way that benefits an ecosystem as a whole, it is entitled to intervene and manage it, usually by stopping disruptive economic activity - measuring and, if necessary, issuing alerts on the state of the integrated volus and interstellar economies ; should the government of the Vol Protectorate have reasonable evidence supporting the conclusion that state intervention is preferable to no intervention whatsoever in a way that benefits the economy as a whole, it is entitled to intervene and manage parts of or the whole of the volus economy

ensuring the freedom of all volus to live in a tribe of their choice, essential to the panarchy of the Vol Protectorate, is respected : - registering adult volus in a tribe of their choice - handling volus switching from one tribe to another

enforcing the law : - handling litigation between different volus tribes, each with its own legal system - ensuring every tribe respects the Axioms of Vol Law (notably respecting the environment and the rights of minors) through a process known as law-auditing

The legislative branch

The Laws of Vol, that is to say the whole of volus law that applies to all citizens and residents of the Vol Protectorate regardless of political affiliation, is extremely short : beside the Founding Charter of the Vol Protectorate, there are less than ten laws, the Axioms of Vol Law (or Axioms).

To pass a new Axiom, or repeal an extant one, at least 75% of the adult citizens of the Vol Protectorate as well as at least 66.7% of the adult population in each tribe must agree to it.

In practice, the Shareholder Assembly (see below) ratifies or vetoes policies introduced by the Management Board and repeals past policies, while the judiciary makes sure the Axioms and those policies are followed. This results in a de facto complex common law system ; the extensiveness of the volus patent laws, for example, has been frequently noted.

Every group operating on a Vol Protectorate host-world (see below), including the Protectorate itself, must also abide by the directives of the local Planetary Management Directorate.

The Axioms are based on the eight (8) universal Blacklaws in Terra Ignota. The patent laws are canon.

The executive branch

Each adult citizen of the Vol Protectorate is part of the Shareholder Assembly, with a political share determined on the proportionate amount of their wealth freely given to the Protectorate as taxes, and an added bonus for the poorer volus so that they do not have to give a lot to be on relatively equal footing with the wealthiest.

The Shareholder Assembly elects the members of the Boards of Directors, or Supervisory Board, who in turn elect the head of state of the Vol Protectorate, the Chairperson. Chairman Ulra Nron is the current leader of the Vol Protectorate.

The Board of Directors appoints and fires in turn the members of the Executive Committee, or Management Board, headed by a Chief Executive (or Managing Director). As head of government, the Chief Executive is in charge of the day-to-day running of the Vol Protectorate and formulating and implementing policies, while the Board of Directors safeguards the interests of the shareholders. The separation of the two prevents the most obvious forms of conflicts of interests.

Below the Executive Committee is the massive bureaucratic apparatus of the Vol Ministries, each tasked with a specific area of activity, such as the Vol Ministry of the Frontier. Unlike the directors, the members of the ministries are career bureaucrats.

Each director of the Executive Committee heads one of the Vol Ministries ; their immediate subordinates are the Subordinate Directors, whom they appoint, as well as the Advisors of the Advisor Panel, led by a Senior Advisor. The Advisors are ministry bureaucrats who rose to their positions based on merit and experience.

For example, the Chief Finance Director in the Vol Ministry of Finance delegates much of their affairs to several Subordinate Finance Directors and can rely on the advice of the Vol Senior Finance Advisor and the other Vol Finance Advisor.

The description of the Vol Protectorate government is simply that of the government of the Republic of Venice, an explicit inspiration for the volus, with corporate terms swapped in, and with an added management board as is common practice in the corporate world.

The judiciary branch

Sorry, I haven't come up with anything yet ! I'm of the mind of there being an independent Inspectorate which investigates cases where multiple legal systems are in conflict, Arbiters to settle such cases, and Law Auditors to conduct surprise law-audits and check (say) if those children are well taken care of and your tribe isn't actually a cult.

The planetary governments

An added wrinkle is that I imagined Planetary Management Directorates to handle issues which concern everyone on a given world - a "host-world" - mostly where you have integrated systems which go beyond just one tribe. The two major issues would be the planetary ecosystem and the planetary economy. Given that territory stops to matter for tribal, panarchist polities, what we have instead are governments managing a) the environment, e.g. the commons, and b) the integration of various groups by geographical proximity. Here I'm vaguely gesturing toward the Dutch Republic (the other direct historical inspiration for the volus) with a political system for decentralization, management planet by planet — but I haven't decided how those institutions function ! That's definitely where Irune's Senior Commerce Advisor is, though.

Economy

Capitalism. That being said, the government is stable, the volus are happy and the volus planets are beautiful and clean because most of the filthy, horrific exploitative stuff takes place out of sight, in the Terminus Systems (see also : Elkoss Combine in canon). The volus have outsourced the exploitation inherent to capitalism, and (much like everyone else in the galaxy btw) capitalism remains stable because there's virtually endless growth thanks to the virtually endless resources left to exploit in the undiscovered space of the galaxy.

Okay, @unfair-water-plane, I don't know if this was what you were asking for ; if you wanted something else, tell me and I'm sure I'll have something up my sleeve !

#mass effect #volus #vol protectorate #unfair-water-plane

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bitchesgetriches · 26 days ago

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Do you have any advice for making good money/living a good financial life when the field you're in has a relatively low average wage, and you need a specialized/graduate degree for it? I work in the library field, specifically a public library, which requires a Master's for any full time position that pays decently, with most (*most*-some positions in tiny little villages or towns pay absolute peanuts, some in big cities pay a little more) positions averaging $40-$60k a year for a full time job. I've definitely made a whole lot less begorez so I know it's not nothing, but I'm also not in a private field where there's the opportunity to "climb the corporate ladder" or regularly receive promotions and raises and apply most of the standard advice on raising my salary, and there is definitely a soft ceiling on how much the average person in my (underpaid, overworked) public service/city government sector position can earn. I'm never going to be a high earner and will probably always have an "average" income, sinply because of how my field is (not) paid-so how can I live a good financial life in spite of that?

First of all, we love you. All librarians, really, but also you specifically. You are a wise, rational, and levelheaded baby bitchling and you're doing a valuable service to our community and our world. Please don't give up on being a librarian.

Second: you're right! You're probably not going to be swimming in cash! So I think the first two steps are these:

Define what it means to you to live a "good financial life." Is it owning a home? Having enough time off to pursue your hobbies? Traveling often? Eating good, nutritious food? Being able to support children? Define it for YOU, no one else. From there you can build a plan.

Be intentionally frugal with your limited funds. I don't just say "live frugally," because that means something different to everyone. But being INTENTIONALLY frugal means spending according to your values, needs, and interests. Some people say pets are a waste of money, other say they are a requirement for living a happy and healthy life, and therefore essential spending. So figure out your values and priorities, and spend accordingly.

This is what we recommend to EVERYONE. But for you I'd make two additional steps:

3. Move. Carefully research the cost of living against your earning potential and use that to find a job + home situation that stretches your money further. This literally might mean switching neighborhoods, or living with a family member, trusted friend, or romantic partner. Or it might mean moving to Wyoming and becoming an active member in the democratic socialist party of Laramie! But be open to this option.

4. Get a side hustle. I hate this reality, but it's literally becoming not optional these days to have multiple income streams.

But please, keep being a librarian. We fucking need you.

Anybody else have advice for our dear librarian here?

The Library Is a Magical Place and You Should Fucking Go There

Season 4, Episode 8: "I’m Queer, and Want To Find an Affordable Place To Retire. How Do I Balance Safety With Cost of Living?"

Did we just help you out? Say thanks by joining our Patreon!

#librarian #cost of living #personal finance #frugal #money advice

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shadowmaat · 1 year ago

Text

Jedi Service Corps

The Legends-fueled propaganda of "bad students get sent to the Agricorp/Services" has always bothered me. First of all, forcing kids into a career not of their choosing isn't the best way to encourage them to perform well.

The Services in general seem to get a bad rap, and TBH it's kind of bizarre to assume that every kid who winds up being taken in by the Jedi wants to grow up to be a cop. LOL!

There is so much untapped potential being ignored, and even within the four pseudo-canon branches there's a lot to explore.

Agriculture. Farmers Without Borders. LOL! It isn't just about growing plants, it's about analyzing trends, understanding ecosystems, geology, climatology, politics, etc. There's mechanical engineering so you know how to fix the machines that do the hardest labor (often illegally, given corporate software locks and so forth). Probably a lot of fiddly stuff with plant genetics, too, given similar issues with seed corporations.

Being Jedi, I'm sure they're also aware of the need to include "ornamental" plants to help with the emotional welfare of hurting/devastated populations.

Education. This field must be fucking wild. Sure, you have your future creche masters and archivists, but I imagine there are those who do public outreach, too, and go to schools to teach kids about what the Jedi do beyond waving laser swords. There's probably also a need for teachers in isolated/rural areas to help with basic things like reading, writing, and maths. Ditto areas devastated by wars and natural disasters, where kids need a safe distraction from trauma. I bet Educorp and Agricorp team up more often than people might think.

There's also the sheer variety of topics. Even something basic like history will have a wide net. Galactic history, region-specific, planetary, etc. And then there's the arts. Music, singing, dance, physical media, holo media, theatre, and so much more. There will be differences between species, understanding what they need to know, how they learn best, and what their aging process is like. Teachers to cover the full range of mortal maturity, from teaching toddlers to old-timers. And don't get me started on teaching "forbidden" topics in repressive communities.

Medical. LOL. Every. Single. Species. And often subtypes between them. So many specialists needed. And again, you probably have a number that specialize in helping in disaster areas. Hello, Educorp, let's help teach these people how to best care for themselves. Maybe Agricorp can help with showing folks how to purify their air and water. There must be SO many diseases, some of which have inoculations and so that don't. And again, figuring ways to smuggle medicine and supplies to those who need it despite the extortionist rates corporations charge. Repairing faulty equipment, finding work-arounds when the parts aren't there. Triage. Using the Force to help heal is all well and good, but sometimes they still have to get hands-on.

Even with non-emergency stuff, I imagine they're still kept busy. The idea of a Jedi "country doctor" settled in some remote area sounds delightful. Communities that get "lost" in the shuffle or otherwise overlooked. Veterinary medicine as a sub-specialty.

Jedi having a special "knack" for determining what's wrong with someone, finding early warning signs before it's too late, etc. Comforting the dying. Comforting the survivors. ALL the mental health stuff and neurodivergence.

Exploration. Jedi Starfleet. LOL! It isn't all about discovering new worlds, though. Sometimes it's rediscovering planets and cultures that have been forgotten. Charting new hyperlane routes and hoping the end doesn't pop you out in the middle of a star.

I betcha you could fold so many things into this one. Botany. Archaeology. Xenoanthropology. Medicine, of course, since new worlds/people means new poisons, venoms, and diseases. New or ancient languages? It'd help to have someone around who could work on translating. Diplomats to help you talk to people. Geologists. Zoologists. A bit of everything.

Sure, there'd be room for solo missions, but I imagine there'd be bigger ships that they'd launch from. A place to come back to so the brains can pore over everything you brought back and see what they can determine from it. And big ships (or any ships really) means pilots, engineers, general crew, logistics, and all those fun things.

Anyway, I can see plenty of room for additional corps, too, but of the ones that get mentioned in Legends there's still a huge playing field.

#worldbuilding #star wars worldbuilding

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blackstarlineage · 6 months ago

Text

25 Essential Principles for Black Conduct and Empowerment: A Garveyite Perspective

From a Garveyite perspective, Black people must uphold a code of conduct rooted in self-determination, unity, discipline, and economic independence to reclaim sovereignty and build a powerful Black world. Marcus Garvey emphasized that the liberation of Black people requires not just awareness but action, structure, and collective responsibility. Without a solid foundation of principles to guide conduct, Black people remain vulnerable to external control, disunity, and stagnation.

This analysis outlines 25 essential principles that Black people must adhere to for collective empowerment, ensuring that every aspect of life—from personal discipline to political strategy—aligns with Black self-reliance and Pan-African unity.

1. Prioritize Black Unity Over Petty Divisions

Black people must reject tribalism, nationality-based elitism, and class divisions that prevent global solidarity. Whether African, African American, Caribbean, or Afro-Latino, all Black people share a common struggle and destiny.

2. Be Loyal to Black Institutions, Not External Systems

Economic, educational, and political systems designed by non-Black entities often do not serve Black interests. Black people must build, support, and defend their own institutions to ensure self-governance.

3. Maintain Economic Discipline and Group Economics

Black people must spend, circulate, and invest money within their own communities rather than enriching non-Black businesses that do not support Black liberation. Wealth must serve the collective, not just the individual.

4. Reject Begging and Dependency

Garveyism teaches that self-reliance is the key to sovereignty. Seeking validation, reparations without self-building, or constant dependency on non-Black systems keeps Black people weak. We must create solutions, not wait for handouts.

5. Strengthen the Black Family Unit

A strong Black nation starts with strong families. Fatherhood, motherhood, and communal responsibility must be honoured. The intentional breakdown of the Black family is a tool of oppression, and reversing it is a revolutionary act.

6. Guard Black Cultural Identity Fiercely

Black culture must be protected from dilution, appropriation, and distortion. The global media industry manipulates Black culture for profit while degrading its revolutionary potential. Black people must reclaim their spiritual, artistic, and historical identities.

7. Reject Hyper-Consumerism and Materialism

Black empowerment is not measured by luxury brands, flashy lifestyles, or European standards of success. True power comes from ownership, land, and industry—not consumer status.

8. Develop Financial Literacy and Generational Wealth

Black people must prioritize financial education, investments, land ownership, and cooperative economics over short-term spending habits. Financial discipline determines power.

9. Master Self-Defense and Security

Black communities must be physically and strategically protected. Knowledge of self-defense, martial arts, and security strategies is essential to prevent exploitation, gentrification, and violence against Black people.

10. Respect and Elevate Black Women

Black women have always been at the forefront of liberation struggles. They must be honoured, protected, and empowered, while rejecting both misogyny and feminism that devalues traditional African family structures.

11. Reject White Validation and Seek Black Excellence

Seeking approval from white institutions, corporations, or governments weakens self-worth. Excellence must be defined on Black terms, not Western standards.

12. Eliminate Self-Hatred and Colourism

Black people must dismantle anti-Black programming, including colourism, texturism, and Eurocentric beauty standards. Loving Blackness is a revolutionary act.

13. Be Politically Aware but Not Emotionally Manipulated

Black people must engage in politics with strategic awareness, rather than blind emotional allegiance to parties that do not serve Black interests. Power is taken, not asked for.

14. Prioritize African Spirituality and Indigenous Practices

African spiritual systems have been demonized and replaced with religious systems that pacify Black resistance. Black people must reclaim ancestral knowledge and reject systems that promote blind obedience over empowerment.

15. Train Black Youth for Leadership and Legacy

Black children must be educated in liberation philosophy, economic empowerment, and self-discipline from an early age. The next generation must be trained, not just inspired.

16. Reject Degenerative Media and Narratives

Music, television, and films that promote self-destruction, hypersexuality, and violence against Black people must be rejected. Media that elevates, educates, and empowers Black minds must be supported.

17. Demand Accountability from Leaders

Black leaders—whether political, religious, or social—must be held to strict ethical and strategic standards. Personality cults and blind allegiance lead to betrayal and stagnation.

18. Build Pan-African Alliances Instead of Isolating Movements

No single Black community or nation can thrive alone. Black people worldwide must work together to secure land, resources, and industries.

19. Promote Self-Discipline and Mental Strength

A weak and undisciplined mind is easily controlled. Black people must master self-discipline in thought, habits, and actions to create a powerful global presence.

20. Reclaim the Warrior Spirit of Our Ancestors

African history is filled with warriors, revolutionaries, and empires that resisted colonization and slavery. Black people must embrace the warrior spirit rather than glorifying passivity.

21. Master Technology and Control the Digital Space

The future is digital, and Black people must own, develop, and master technology rather than being just consumers. Controlling media, cybersecurity, and AI is critical for sovereignty.

22. Protect and Defend Black Land and Resources

Black communities and nations must protect their land, agriculture, water sources, and raw materials from foreign control. Land ownership equals power.

23. Reject Integration as the Ultimate Goal

Integration into white society is not liberation. The goal must be nation-building, sovereignty, and Black self-governance, not assimilation.

24. Reject Criminality and Sabotage from Within

Internal destruction—whether through gang violence, betrayal, or corruption—keeps Black people weak. Code of conduct, integrity, and accountability must be upheld.

25. Make Black Consciousness and Excellence the New Standard

Mediocrity, victimhood, and aimless entertainment must be replaced with a culture of Black excellence, Pan-Africanism, and mastery of knowledge and power.

Conclusion: The Path to Black Sovereignty Is Discipline, Strategy, and Unity

From a Garveyite perspective, the liberation of Black people is not a dream but a responsibility. Without a strict code of conduct, discipline, and self-determination, Black people will remain vulnerable to exploitation, division, and external control.

Marcus Garvey built the largest Black organization in history because he understood that power comes from order, strategy, and a clear set of guiding principles. These 25 rules serve as a modern framework for achieving Black sovereignty, economic independence, and Pan-African unity.

The question is: Will we have the discipline to follow them?

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eugenedebs1920 · 15 days ago

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Imagine if you will, a time when the wealthy flaunted their extravagant lifestyles with parties, balls, and elaborate weddings. A time when the gap between the rich and the poor was immense. A growing feeling of isolationism and protectionism was sweeping across America.

A time where unemployment was relatively low, but wages lay stagnant among rising prices.

Large banks and financial institutions, free from the burden of regulations, took bigger and bigger risks in their endeavors.

A new administration had taken office, concerned about imports and diminishing manufacturing at home, would put out sweeping, blanket tariffs.

Now imagine that moment in time was not this current moment. It was 1929, when the guilded age would give way to the Great Depression. The similarities are unsettling.

It would take great suffering, patience, strong leadership, some luck, and democratic socialism (and a war) to climb out of the crater caused by the consolidation of wealth by the few (the robber barons) and the irresponsible practices of the banks and financial institutions, gambling and losing. An aristocrat in New York City in this era was quoted as saying, “this nation belongs to the rich. We will keep it that way for as long as we can”.

At the end of the day the consequences overwhelmingly fell upon the middle class, the majority of the American population.

Prior to WWII it would be the ingenuity of Franklin Delano Roosevelt and his New Deal policies that would begin the process of recovery. Policies many on the right, as well as the titans of industry, would classify as socialism. They would spend decades tying socialism to communism, feverishly trying to dissolve and absolve these programs made to strengthen the middle class, protect the vulnerable, empower the workers, and benefit the masses rather than just the fortunate minority.

Yet these masters of men, the modern day robber barons, the corporate elites, the 1%, the Wall Street tycoons, the hedge fund moguls, the banking overlords, the tech giants, the predatory mortgage lenders, the giant conglomerates, would inevitably overplay their hands and find themselves in dire straits.

When this occurred, would they just pull themselves up by their bootstraps? Would they take accountability for their risky investments and poor decisions? Would they decry government assistance as socialism as they did in prior years? Or would they portray themselves as a victim, as too big to fail, dodging the error of their ways, and stick their hand out asking for bailouts?

One example where corporate socialism seemed not only acceptable, but encouraged was the savings and loan crisis of the 1980’s.

The origins of savings and loan was adopted in the U.S. after WWII. With a surging middle class seeking home ownership yet lacking the capital to take on a 5 year mortgage, institutions were established to utilize deposits from local customers to extend the life of the loan, lowering the monthly amount due, and compensating depositors with a percentage of the interest collected.

In 1980 Ronald Reagan would take office amid rising inflation. The Federal Reserve, in an attempt to curb the inflation, set interest rates at particular high levels.

A top priority for the Reagan administration would be sweeping deregulation of the financial sector. This would open the door for the worst financial crisis since the Great Depression at that time.

With regulatory restrictions lifted, and oversight almost non existent, speculators would grasp at the opportunity for easy money. With banks competing on attracting investors and depositors with unrealistic interest offers of their own, and the already high federal interest rate, many of these savings and loan institutions would far exceed their liquidity versus the loans granted.

With a lack of regulations these institutions were allowed to invest in far more speculative and risky assets. Knowing that even if these gambles came up short, the federal government would insure losses. This extinguished restraint on more volatile endeavors.

By the end of the 80’s over 2/3 of these savings and loan entities would go bankrupt, wiping out the savings of their investors, and costing the American taxpayer over $160 billion. These companies gambled, lost, but by losing, steamrolled their clients, the American people, and enriched themselves.

The savings and loan crisis saw wealthy investors over extended their profit margins, squander investors savings, then receive a federal bailout. Capitalism works great, for those with the capital. Socialism on the other hand is deplorable, that is unless you’re an insolvent financial institution.

Another instance where socialism is acceptable for the wealthy and corporations, but not for the tax paying citizens would occur in this same timeframe.

With an oil and gas crisis gripping the world, fuel efficiency would become an important factor for those looking to purchase a new vehicle. Chrysler would have to pivot from the gas guzzling muscles cars it once trophied. It would purchase substantial shares of the much lighter, far more fuel efficient, Japanese motor company Mitsubishi and produce subcompact vehicles under the Chrysler brand.

This would not remedy their financial woes. Chrysler would lobby the Treasury Department and receive a $1.5 billion taxpayer funded rescue package. Chrysler would require an additional taxpayer bailout out in 2009 of over $4 billion American taxpayer dollars. Capitalism works great, for those with the capital. Socialism on the other hand is deplorable, that is unless you’re a failing auto company in need of assistance.

It’s an unfortunate certainty that tragedy will occur in many of our lives. Tragedy which can kneecap our financial stability. This is no concern to your mortgage lender, landlord or other monetary responsibilities one finds themselves obligated to pay. That is unless you’re a corporate entity.

The attacks on 9/11 2001 would shock and devastate the globe. The uncertainty and fear would rattle markets, businesses and industries worldwide.

One particularly sector hit the hardest was the airline industry. The aftermath of the attacks would temporarily ground air traffic. Even when these restrictions were lifted demand fell drastically. With far fewer flights being booked the air travel sector would reach out for a lifeline to the federal government.

A taxpayer funded rescue would save the airline companies, including many who were at risk of bankruptcy prior to the attacks. This $15 billion taxpayer resuscitation of air travel would bridge the gap until higher prosperity arrived. Capitalism works great, for those with the capital. Socialism on the other hand is deplorable, unless your an airline nearing financial ruin due to an unforeseen tragedy.

The 1990’s would close with significant economic success. The rise in computer technology, trade restrictions eased, and an an administration under Bill Clinton which oversaw a balanced federal budget for the first time in decades, cumulating in a budget surplus by the 2000 election.

This economic boom and subsequent surplus would be short lived. The attacks of 9/11 would spark a global military operation, the War on Terror. At the same time the new administration under George W. Bush, would follow in his father’s footsteps and enact stark deregulation for banking and financial institutions.

Similar to the savings and loan crisis George H. W. Bush was an accomplice to, the financial institutions would gamble and lose at the expense of the American people.

Not only did the 2008 housing crisis displace hundreds of thousands of Americans seeking homeownership but falling prey to predatory lending, the housing bubble burst would crumble markets worldwide.

The cost to stabilize the economy from collapse, perpetuated through these risky gambles made possible by the vast deregulation of financial institutions, would come to the price tag of $970 billion on the tab of the American taxpayer. Again. Capitalism works great, for those with the capital. Socialism on the other hand is deplorable, unless your a financial institution gambling with others life savings, capitalizing on predatory lending, concluding with a government bailout for the poor decisions made.

Socialism has been vilified by those who possess the most, but don’t feel obligated to contribute an equal share to society. They would equate socialism to fascist states, and communist regimes. When in fact, even prior to FDR and the New Deal policies, democratic socialism has been prevalent throughout our history.

Police, fire departments, and other law enforcement agencies that protect and serve our communities, socialism at work.

The public education system, regardless one’s opinion on it, not only provides free education to all children, but allows parents to acquire and retain employment. Socialism at work.

The sprawling, vast, and countless highways, roads, byways, bridges and tunnels connecting this awe inspiring nation. Socialism at work.

The beautiful and majestic national parks that dot this country, allowing anyone to experience the grandeur we so fortunately are blessed to visit. Socialism at work.

Dams like the Hoover dam, and projects like the Tennessee River Valley project, which provided power to much of the south lacking it. Socialism at work.

The potable water that flows from our municipal taps, safe and clean. The removal of sewage and processing of it. Socialism at work.

Standards and safety regulations on consumable products we enjoy daily, such as food safety, air pollutants levels, alcohol safety. Socialism at work.

The research that goes into the medical advances, and undertakes conditions the private sector finds no profit in pursuing. Research into everything from cancer treatments, to disease prevention and cures. Socialism at work.

Medicaid, Medicare, the Affordable Care Act, and healthcare assistance for the elderly, and those who struggle to afford the ever rising healthcare premiums. Socialism at work.

Social Security, providing everyday Americans the chance to retire with dignity despite their socioeconomic status. Socialism at work.

There’s public libraries, recreational facilities, sidewalks, bike lanes, hiking trails, food assistance, and unemployment insurance, all socialist endeavors.

We are, and have been for quite some time, beneficiaries of democratic socialist policies.

These are made possible through our tax contributions we relinquish from our earned income. The average percentage for the working poor and middle class that is taken for taxes is nearly 40%. Which is burdensome for much of the population, the overwhelming majority making under $100 thousand a year.

The opposition to these mutually beneficial policies comes from the top. An elite class unwilling to contribute to the nation in which they amassed their grand fortunes. The wealthy and corporate tax rate is roughly 17%, but the majority of these tycoons of capital pay far less through tax loopholes, offshore accounts, and clever accounting.

Socialism isn’t the working class asking for a handout. It’s not everyone sitting at home collecting government checks. It’s not prohibiting individual ownership of property or enterprise. It’s not communism. It’s long established. What is government for if not to protect, assist and benefit its citizens?

The wealth class would have you believe it’s detrimental to ask them to pay the same percentage amount as regular people. As if 40% of mine or your paycheck is somehow less of a burden for us as it is for them to pay the same.

The deficit will increase another $5 trillion dollars. This unfathomable debt expansion is not caused by low income families receiving food assistance, it’s not due to government funding healthcare for the elderly, it’s can’t be attributed to funding for public broadcasting. This hole America finds itself in is the notion that the people who hold the majority of the overall wealth in this country should somehow be exempt from paying the same, if not more, of a percentage of their yearly income to the country from which they obtained their fortunes.

Through the study of history we see the grim similarities brewing now as they did in previous financial crises. Wealth inequality at unprecedented levels, rising national debt, unwarranted and irrational tariffs, a consumer based economy finding itself increasingly unable to acquire expendable income for “luxury” purchases, a wealth distribution from the bottom to the top, a minuscule and unsustainable corporate and wealth tax rate, and an administration giddy to deregulate.

The ingredients for a large scale economic crash are all there. The question is, can we stop or slow its arrival before it’s too late…

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cobragardens · 2 years ago

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CORRECTED & UPDATED Clothes + Equivocation = Romance: The Husbands in 1793 (Part 2)

From Part 1:

Crowley and Aziraphale share clothes as a common interest. They don't have the same style, but they're both aware of current fashions, and Heaven and Hell aren't. You can't tell me Hastur or Uriel would recognize the significance of Crowley saying "Dressed like that, he's asking for trouble" about someone else while wearing black stockings and cravat and waistcoat himself. And that means Anything the husbands communicate to each other through clothing choices goes undetected by their masters.

SO. With all this in mind, let's go through the 1793 scene again and look at what the husbands communicate to each other without using words or actions to do it, and how their clothing choices help them do that.

Hello. I'm here and I know you're in a spot of trouble. I like you.

It's you! I'm so happy you're here!

Sheen's voice and face when Aziraphale says Crowley's name in this moment makes me think that Aziraphale is in love with Crowley--the demon Crowley, not the angel who became Crowley--long before he consciously realizes it in 1941. The way Sheen has Aziraphale say Crowley's name is so soft.

The way you're he way you're lounging there and what you're wearing are uncomfortably sexy and also incredibly inappropriate for the Bastille at this moment in history. I suppose this is very on-brand for you.

Crowley: I listen when you talk about your interests and goals and keep track of your general whereabouts and pursuits.

Either they've spoken with each other recently or Crowley has been keeping tabs on Aziraphale. Aziraphale isn't upset that Crowley knows what he's been up to, which suggests the former, which in turn suggests they're in semi-regular (every few years or decades) contact at this point.

Also we've now got a general idea for when Aziraphale opens his bookshop.

Okay, brief tangent while I point out two things here.

One, my favorite thing about Aziraphale is that he is a sensualist. This is libertine behavior, y'all. He 'popped across the Channel' during the Reign of Terror because he wanted a specific carnal experience of a specific really lovely food.

And two, even when Aziraphale does weird, frivolous, silly, ill-advised things like this, things that clearly baffle Crowley...Crowley never makes fun of him. He never laughs at him. He always has this look of disbelief on his face, like Am I hearing this?--

--but Crowley never, not once, shuts Aziraphale down.

Until Aziraphale asks him to go back to Heaven.

Anyway. Back to our scene.

Aziraphale: I am unwilling to abandon my sartorial sensibilities even when it threatens my corporation, and I am insane, so I think this is reasonable. At least I'm not wearing a Slutty Monarchist outfit.

You're happy to see me, aren't you. You're relieved to see a demon. Go on, say it.

Tennant's delivery of this line cracks me up. It is so gloating and flirtatious and smarmy and indulgent of Aziraphale.

I am very happy to see you and lucky you're here, and I am willing to say so sincerely even though you are gloating about it.

And then there's the exchange where Crowley very carefully doesn't answer Aziraphale's question about why Crowley's in the area but also reassures him that he didn't cause the French Revolution and Aziraphale can still like him.

We can't speak openly about this. It's dangerous for me.

Message received: I won't mention what you did again. But I want to show my gratitude and spend time with you; is it safe for us to get lunch together?

Yes, but one of us is going to have to change so we can walk the streets of Paris without getting arrested again, and I'm the one doing the rescuing here so it's not going to be me. Your 'standards' will have to take the hit.

Fine, you've got me over a barrel. But hey, if I have to wear the silly hat anyway I might as well go all the way and wear your colors. Except not monarchist. And not slutty.

Oh, I don't know, I thought you looked pretty slutty too. (Meaning 2) I'm having this guy killed for touching you, btw. I will kill anyone who tries to hurt you. Immediately. I see you are having the guy who assaulted you killed in a copy of the clothes he would have killed you for wearing. I wholeheartedly approve of this (Meaning 3), your sexiness in those clothes notwithstanding. The utter insouciance of Crowley's little sniff and the inquiry about what they'll have for lunch drive home hard that Crowley could not be more unbothered by Aziraphale having the man who tried to harm him beheaded.

What really tickles me about this line is not only that Crowley's joke has three distinct meanings, but that Meaning 1 (the meaning that exists without reference to Crowley's clothes) is the opposite of Meaning 3--Anybody wearing clothes like that deserves what they get (Meaning 1) versus It rocks how you just killed someone who tried to kill you for wearing those clothes (Meaning 3)--and yet because of the clothes he's wearing, both meanings come through with perfect clarity, dependent only on whether the listener(s) can see his clothing and know its significance. Aziraphale can, and does, so he receives Crowley's real meaning. Hell/Heaven can't, and don't, so they just hear Meaning 1.

And then we get Aziraphale's pleased little smile and look of tranquil interest as he watches Jean-Claude dragged off to his death. Its such an interesting facial expression for an angel watching a demon have someone killed having someone killed, isn't it?

Crowley has just told him they're probably being listened to by Hell. That means Aziraphale, Crowley, and the audience all know this is the most Aziraphale can safely react. Aziraphale can't show any overt approval of anything an agent of Hell does, because by definition anything a demon does is demonic and angels must be against That Sort of Thing. In light of the fact that Aziraphale is the one who causes Jean-Claude's death, I now argue that this responsibility not to react too positively to something the other side has done falls on Crowley, and that the reason he makes this joke is primarily to tell Aziraphale I see what you've just done, and I like it without identifying aloud what exactly has just happened for their presumed eavesdroppers because an angel arranging a human's murder is the sort of thing in which head offices might take undue interest.

The awareness that their conversation is not private means the audience and Aziraphale know they need to be watching and listening for multiple meanings from Crowley, and it also means the audience and Crowley know we need to be watching Aziraphale's face closely right now. And that little smile shows us that Aziraphale has received Meanings 2 and 3 of "he was asking for trouble."

Or, at minimum, Meaning 3; even if Aziraphale picks up on Meaning 2--You looked really sexy in your vintage clothes, you crazy weirdo--that's not a message he can afford to react to at all. But he does react to the other coded communication Crowley is sending when he says "Dressed like that, he was asking for trouble" while dressed for trouble himself: I will kill anyone who tries to hurt you. Immediately. People who think your clothes give them the right to hurt you can go to Hell, and I am delighted you just sent one of them there.

You just had someone beheaded for assaulting me, I acknowledge and am pleased by your delight at my cleverness. and I could not be happier. Would you like to come enjoy one of my very favorite sensual pleasures with me?

***

EDIT: To be honest I like this reading better than my original, incorrect understanding of the story despite the fact that it is slightly less romantic, both because I love the idea of Crowley as a thirsty witness to Aziraphale quietly being a vengeful badass, because it gives us a glimpse of something important about Aziraphale's character that we don't get to see elsewhere: Aziraphale doesn't have a problem with killing per se.

We learn from the business with the Antichrist that, like Crowley, Az. can't bring himself to kill children. We learn from his perturbation at the Flood and the Crucifixion that he doesn't hold with killing innocents. He gave away his flaming sword. But this scene establishes that Aziraphale will actively cause someone's death if he feels they deserve it. That seems like an important character note for him that may become relevant in Season 3 (feathers crossed that it happens).

And I think there's something else in there too, something about how Aziraphale kills Jean-Claude, not with outright violence but with a trick. One party thinks he's in control of the situation; with a wave of his hand, suddenly a turnip has turned into an inkwell an executioner has turned into the condemned--or at least it seems that way long enough to get the job done. It's a bait-and-switch, like stage magic, and it slots right in to the motif in Good Omens of sleight-of-hand, of characters wearing other characters' appearances (for more on this, see fan theories re: Maggie is possessed), of supplying false meanings to an audience to disguise the true actions going on behind the scenes.

#good omens #good omens 2 #good omens s2 #good omens analysis #good omens clothes #good omens costumes #ineffable husbands #aziracro #azcrow #azicrow #good omens equivocation #good omens 1984 #good omens clothing and equivocation #good omens 1793 #good omens clothes and equivocation 2

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wheeboo · 2 years ago

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wilted | kim mingyu

SYNOPSIS. in which you've contracted hanahaki despite being in a relationship, and it makes you question everything. PAIRING. kim mingyu x gn!reader (ft. jeonghan) GENRE. angst, established relationship, hanahaki au WARNINGS. descriptions of illness (hanahaki disease), mentions of coughing and blood, mention of death, cursing, terms of endearment, miscommunication or honestly lack of communication, depictions of an argument, gyu is a little bit of an ass in this and i'm very sorry about that but it's for the plot, description of hospitals and surgery, unrequited love WORD COUNT. 6.1k

hanahaki disease ( 花吐き病 ) 𑁋 a disease in which the infected coughs up flowers due to unrequited love.

notes: this entire story was inspired from this post which i hoped i was able to stick to :)

A shift has never been this relaxing before.

Normally, you're used to the hectic hustle of weary students aiming to acquire their morning coffees before running to class and impatient corporate workers racing against the clock in the bustling jungle of the city. But today, the scene was drastically different.

The clear blue skies outside were barren of any existence of clouds, the sun rays pouring in through the café windows like warm honey and casting ornate patterns of light and shadow on the rustic wooden tables that filled the vast space. In the midst of this fresh and sunny afternoon, you find yourself standing idly behind the counter, fingers rhythmically tapping on your phone as you shoot a text message to your boyfriend.

[ 04:39pm | y/n ] gyu ! should i bring home something for us to eat tonight? been craving that gimbap from a while ago 💕

The message sends before your attention would be halted by the chime of the doors opening.

You've worked as a barista in this café for the past year while searching (or struggling, to be honest) to get a job in the field you sought for. It's easy to give yourself credit when it comes to plastering on the brightest smile on your face every time the bell above the doors would ring. You can be having the worst day of your life, yet you've mastered the skill of hiding your worries beneath that obnoxious apron and sage green logo-emblazoned hat sat on your head.

It's a bit different this time when the customer who walks in is someone you're beginning to consider a regular at your café.

"Ah, Mr. Yoon," You greet him with a shake of your head and a wide grin. "The usual today, I'm presuming?"

"That is, if you can stop putting down 'Mr. Yoon' on my cup than my first name," he responds teasingly, and it makes you lightly chuckle as you lower your gaze to start tapping in his order on the screen.

Mr. Yoon, as he preferred to be called initially as a running gag, had become a latest fixture in the café, like a light-hearted charm that captures the attention of both you and your co-workers. It's rare to see people like him walk in. His visits were characterised not just by his liking for the café's signature caramel macchiato, but also by the easy banter and warm camaraderie he shared each time he visited that makes your busy shifts a little more bearable.

"Okay, Jeonghan," You reply playfully, reading out his order even though you know it's correct. "One caramel macchiato with a pinch of wit, coming right up."

He lets out a chuckle as he hands you his card with a wink. "You're the best, you know that?"

You flash him one last smile before facing your back towards him to prepare his order. "Flattery will get you anywhere, Mr. Yoon."

You take your time in creating his order, looking up briefly to notice he had sat himself down at one of the tables in the corner of the café. You carefully pour the steamed milk over the espresso and caramel, and when you finish, you place the perfectly crafted caramel macchiato on a tray and carry it over to Jeonghan's table.

"Here you go, Mr. Yoon," You say with a smile, bringing the tray down and placing the cup in front of him. "One caramel macchiato, just the way you like it."

Jeonghan takes a moment to properly observe it, as if examining the crevices of each layer in the cup, before leaning back in chis hair and crossing his arms together. He lets out a relaxing sigh.

"Congratulations, you've earned yourself a perfect score this time." He turns the cup just slightly to show off that you've indeed put the order down under his first name.

You roll your eyes. "Well, I'm glad to have gotten it right."

"It's about time, don't you think?" Jeonghan queries, before taking a sip of the drink, eliciting a satisfied hum. "Mmh, but it was definitely worth the wait. Thank you, Y/N."

You grab the empty tray back in your hands. "If you need me, you know where to find me."

Jeonghan just shoots you one last playful smirk in your direction before you turn away to head back around the counter, pushing yourself through your next set of customers.

However, as time continues to pass so torturously slow, an unusual sensation begins to creep into the core of your chest.

It's like a subtle tickle, a slight tightness to your trachea that you merely dismiss just as fatigue from the dry air as you strap the lid on the order of a cup you're preparing. You take a moment to rub your chest absently, hoping the discomfort will pass, but it lingers.

Yet once you set the order down on the customer's table and dismiss yourself back behind the counter, you let out a small, involuntary cough into the palm of your hand. It's nothing, you tell yourself. You're probably just coming down with a minor cold.

But then, you see it𑁋a very small delicate, pale pink petal resting on your hand where you had covered your mouth, and that's when you feel your heart drop down to your feet.

This can't be happening, You think frantically. Not now. Not like this. You glance around nervously, hoping no one else was watching or waiting for you at the front. The café is still bustling with customers, and the regular chatter continues, completely oblivious to your growing panic.

As you stare at the petal, it begins to crumble, disintegrating into tiny flecks that drift away like dust in the wind down to the floor below. The feeling in your chest, however, remains, and it intensifies. It's like a weight, an ache that refuses to dissipate, and sets the adrenaline to your limbs as you dash towards the employee's only restroom, locking the door behind you.

You place your hands on either side of the sink, the coughs leaving your mouth now bouncing off the walls of the restroom. The coughs wrack your body. Each one doesn't bloom out a petal, but as you release one last cough, you watch as another petal slowly floats down in the sink below your gaze.

Then you look at your reflection in the mirror, and it reveals nothing out of the ordinary. No flowers sprouting from your mouth or bloodstained petals; it was purely only just... fresh petals.

Your mind runs circles. It physically hurts to even think, like twist and turns on an abandoned dirt road. If what you're suffering from is really what you think it is, then your thoughts dash back to him. To Mingyu, whom you've been with for the past two years, and the thought of him makes your heart race. Thinking about him helps just slightly, but not entirely, yet... what is causing this?

You're still in love with Mingyu𑁋you know you are.

You splash cold water on your face, trying to collect your thoughts and the pain wracking your chest. This can't be happening. It's impossible that you'd suddenly develop Hanahaki for someone else.

You quickly take out your phone from your back pocket, punching in your passcode and sliding to your text messages. Your fingers instinctively land on Mingyu's text thread, punching in words in a panic for some help. But when your eyes trail to the last message you sent to him, you notice that it was simply left on... seen.

That's when another cough racks your body, and you can't help but watch in horror as more petals, delicate and pink, fall into the sink, before wilting and crumbling down the drain. It felt like they were mocking you in shame.

Hanahaki disease. An illness described to be acquired from unrequited love.

The doctor explained the options to you: surgery to remove the flowers with the risk of losing your feelings for the person you love, medication to suppress the symptoms with the risk of some side effects, or the most common method𑁋reciprocated love. If the person you love returns your feelings, the disease will fade away on its own. However, if those feelings remain unrequited, the flowers will continue to grow, ultimately suffocating you.

And you would die.

Because that's exactly the kind of news you wanted to torment your life with. It's like a fucking parasite, a cruel insidious joke taking root in your chest. A fucking plant is growing in your fucking chest. Hanahaki disease was rare, but it had chosen you, and it had chosen to do so at the most inconvenient time.

You've heard the stories of the disease from the countless articles you searched on your phone the moment you got back into your car. You've also heard these stories growing up like an urban legend, even in its rarity, at some point becoming deathly afraid of it when you were younger, yet your own family had reassured you that no other person even down to your ancestors had ever been affected with the disease.

You're the first person. How fucking lucky are you.

You were lucky enough to catch it in its early stages, explaining to the doctor that you had never once had any other signs show other than today.

"It doesn't mean you have a lot of time to pick a treatment option," the doctor had said to you as you blankly listened. "I recommend getting it treated as soon as possible, no matter how early it may be, because waiting it out could be detrimental to your state. I'm going to prescribe you some medication to help reduce your symptoms. You can pick up at the pharmacy after this."

But you just... don't understand. None of this has been making sense in your head; it's just been buzzing painfully with confusion, and if anything, making you feel even worser than the actual disease plaguing your body itself. You've always been faithful to Mingyu; you've never harboured romantic feelings for anyone else other than him. You tell him that you love him, and he tells you that he loves you too.

Yet here you are, coughing up petals that seem to defy logic and the rules of this damn disease, trying to think of someone, anyone, who may have slipped past a crack in your heart somewhere.

But it all draws a blank, yet it's the only thing in mind that can be causing all this.

The doctor's words echo in your mind. Surgery came with the risk of losing your feelings for Mingyu, something that you couldn't bear to imagine. Medication can help suppress the symptoms temporarily, but it wouldn't cure the underlying cause. That left you with the most daunting option𑁋reciprocated love.

But how could you possibly explain this to Mingyu? How could you tell him that you were coughing up petals because of some inexplicable turmoil in your heart that had nothing to do with him?

You can't do this. Not right now. God, you need sleep.

"Gyu?" You call out, your voice echoing within the quietness of your shared apartment.

Stepping into your apartment, you're initially met with silence, but it wasn't until you hear a door shut that awakens your senses, and you see Mingyu stepping out of your shared bedroom. For a few moments, you let your eyes trail over him, seemingly dressed up like he was going to an outing, and you feel your lips twitch unconsciously.

"Babe?" You call out again, a bit louder this time, and it catches Mingyu's attention.

A faint smile crosses his face as he makes his way toward you, and for a second you can feel something catch in your throat once you can feel his warmth touch your skin.

"Hey," he greets you calmly, pushing away a strand of hair behind your ear. "How was work?"

"It was..." Tell him, Your mind urges. Tell him right now. "...fine. Nothing much today."

"That's good," he responds, locking the watch on his wrist in place.

"Are you going somewhere?" You ask him quickly, shifting your eyes up and down and over his form.

Mingyu's expression changes slightly, becoming almost tense, a flicker of hesitation in his eyes before it changes back to that lazy smile he had on before. You swear that if you weren't so hyperfocused with every fibre of your being pulling you back, you wouldn't have noticed.

"Just some dinner with the guys. Haven't seen them in a while," he responds coolly, brushing past you for a moment to grab the keys hanging next to the door. "Do you want me to bring you something back?"

You watch Mingyu's every move, the unease and some discomfort from the disease in your chest growing by the unbearable minute, even with the increasing tension in the room that's absolutely suffocating you at the same time. This isn't the time to let your guard down, but you're torn between the fear of losing him and the need to protect him from this awful reality.

But... he's going out? And he didn't tell you? Nor even bother responding to the text you sent him earlier? He was probably just busy, You think. Like he always is.

"No, it's alright." You take a chance and step up to him, planting a brief kiss to his cheek. You feel a little bit better doing that. "I'll just heat up something from the fridge. Have a good time with your friends, okay? I love you."

Mingyu smiles softly at your gesture, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. And you swear you notice a distant look in his gaze, or maybe you were just imagining things and it's just another symptom of this stupid disease and your fervent overthinking. The dimness of your apartment didn't help either𑁋his eyes just looked drained of any colour. Maybe he was just tired.

"Thanks, Y/N." He offers one last smile, but there's something lacking in his tone that you can't quite place, and it's anything but comforting you at the moment. "Love you too."

Your heart quickens just a bit at that, the corners of your lips edging up just slightly as you watch him. He grabs his jacket and heads for the door, and you're left behind in nothing but the silence of your place.

And all at once, you feel all the discomfort you were trying to hide finally spill out from your lips, coughs leaving your mouth like a downpour, each one a bit more painful than the last. You double over with one of your arms wrapped around you and the other clutching at your chest as if trying to physically grasp the pain and pull it out of you.

"Shit, dammit," You murmur weakly, bringing your hand down from your mouth to see a few petals fluttering to the floor, feeling the tears brimming at the corner of your eyes.

You bring yourself back up, opening up your bag and taking out the medication you picked up from the pharmacy earlier. Trailing down to the bathroom, the medication bottle rattles loudly in your shaky hand as you fumble to open the cap. The pills inside are small and white, and the label on the bottle provides instructions for dosage. With shaking fingers, you fish out one pill and place it on your palm.

Then you take a deep breath, attempting to steady your nerves, and then swallow it down with a gulp of water from the bathroom sink.

You hope that it will provide some relief, even if it's just temporary.

You don't know what time Mingyu comes home that night. You heard him come in, but don't have the energy to properly acknowledge him. So you stay low to your sheets, feeling some residual discomfort crawl back into your throat when you hear him open the bedroom door.

You wish he can hold you𑁋it's all you want right now. His comfort, his large arms wrapping around you like how he used to do so before, how he would kiss the top of your head and your shoulder before holding you close in his embrace, the way it felt so right and safe being in his hold because you know it's enough to make all your worries disappear in an instant.

But he doesn't, only sliding into the empty space next to you, and you're afraid that if he does it just might make you feel even worse. You barely feel his warmth on you. Yet you miss him; you miss everything about him. And you still love him. You always have.

You always will.

...right?

It's not right to tell him right now.

You certainly wouldn't like it if someone was staring at you, but you can't help it, not when Mingyu is the only other thing in the room you could possibly look at.

It's been more than a week since you found out you have Hanahaki. Each day you would wake up in an absolute coughing fit, the petals coming in more frequent amounts than before. The medication has helped to lessen the symptoms, yet the side effects are taking a toll on your body. You're constantly fatigued, and your appetite has declined just slightly. You feel like a prisoner in your own body, all because something beautiful and deadly is growing within you.

Mingyu still doesn't know about it. And deep down, you can't shake the feeling that something is... different.

He used to be so attentive with you. Now, he often seems preoccupied, lost in his own thoughts. He no longer surprises you with sweet gestures or random acts of affection, and the warm, lingering kisses that he would leave to your lips have turned into quick pecks on the cheek, or simply, just nothing at all. You hardly wake up with him right next to you because of his work, and the shared laughter and late night conversations have nearly ceased to exist.

You remember the days when Mingyu used to look at you with such warmth, love, and adoration, but the spark that used to light up his eyes has dimmed. You barely feel it anymore. His replies to your questions asking about his day are kept brief. You would excuse it as him simply being exhausted, but there's a persistent feeling in your chest, and it's not just from your illness.

"Gyu?" You call out for him meekly from the kitchen, watching as he doesn't peel his eyes away from his laptop screen, only lifting a brow up slightly. "Are you busy later?"

"Yeah, I am. I got invited to a company dinner later this evening."

There's a visible downturn to your lips at his words, but he doesn't see it𑁋doesn't bother to see it, anyway.

"Oh." You feel it crawling up your throat again. "Okay. How about tomorrow?"

Mingyu finally looks away from his laptop, his gaze lingering on you for a moment before he sighs. "Tomorrow's not good either. I have a meeting with a client, and it might go late."

"Maybe the day after tomorrow?" You suggest, some desperation creeping into your voice.

Mingyu seems to hesitate for a moment, and you hold your breath, hoping for a glimmer of hope, something. But then he shakes his head. "I can't promise anything, Y/N. I'm sorry. I'll be sure to make up to you, okay?"

That's what you always say.

Will you ever make time for me again someday?

You swallow hard, feeling a lump in your throat. The realisation stings, more painful than the illness taking form in your lungs.

"Okay," You mumble, your voice barely above a whisper. "I understand. It's okay. I love you."

A brief, long, pause. "Love you too."

But it's okay, because you still love me.

Then you find yourself swiftly retreating into your bathroom, heart heavy as you grab a tissue and let out a few coughs into the tissue. More petals fall from your mouth, before you crumple the tissue and toss it into the bin next to the sink, then splash some water on your face to hide the tears that threaten to escape.

You don't know what to do.

You can't even bother to see how much pills you have left because you feel like you're taking ten of them every damn day. You have yet to tell a soul, and you know that you should before it's too late, but who you can turn to? You have no one𑁋you can't even figure out yourself why this is even happening to you without feeling like you're going absolutely manic.

It's been hard trying to hide the fallen petals away from Mingyu, or away from anyone, in fact, and you find yourself coughing up more petals even when you're just in the same room as him. You always have to discreetly spit them into a tissue or rush to the bathroom to dispose of them, hoping he doesn't notice.

You hardly even see Mingyu anymore. It's either he's always called into work, has something important to do with the guys, or you feel it snaking up your throat painful enough for you to not make a move. The words stick in your throat, and the fear of losing him freezes you up. You can't help but blame yourself for being so distant around him.

If you've really fallen out of love out of him, if you did supposedly fall for someone else, wouldn't that mean that... you're leading him on? It's a thought at the back of your mind, but the guilt gnaws at you day by day like the ever-growing branches piercing through your lungs.

It's frustrating. All of this frustrating, and it's obviously spilled into your work performance as well. You can hardly perfect orders without making mistakes, and your once bright smile has faded into a forced, weary expression. Your manager and co-workers have given you concerned looks, but you've brushed them off, simply claiming it as stress or lack of sleep.

But it doesn't hit hard until today, because it happens so fast𑁋the metal tray you're holding loudly suddenly crashing down to the floor. One moment you can't breathe, and the next you're letting out hacking coughs into your hands, knees dropped to the floor with the spilled coffee staining your pants and shoes.

The café erupts into chaos as some customers quickly rush to your side, a hand still covering your face. You can hardly respond to anyone from the intense heaviness to your chest and dry pain to your throat.

You feel the petals tickling the skin of your hand, quickly crumpling them up in a fist and stuffing them inside the pocket of your apron.

"Y/N, are you okay?" a familiar voice asks worriedly, Jeonghan's voice, who you served earlier, and you catch a glimpse of him kneeling down beside you.

You can't look at him. Tears well up in your eyes, but you blink them back, doing your best to keep whatever you had left of your composure. You force a weak smile as you bring your hand down to the side.

"Yeah," You croak out, voice raspy and barely audible. "I'm fine, just a little dizzy."

Jeonghan doesn't seem convinced, his eyes trailing over you carefully. You only look past him and keep your gaze low, but it wasn't until you catch sight of a fallen petal resting by your shoes.

And he also sees it as well. Jeonghan's gaze flickers downward, his eyes narrowing as he spots the pale pink petal, and something in his expression changes.

Then he looks back up at you, giving a faint smile, yet serious look.

"Let me take you to the doctor," he urges.

"What? Jeonghan, I can't𑁋"

"I'm taking them to the doctor," he tells one of your co-workers passing by with a broom to clean up the mess you brought to the floor, completely cutting off your words.

You can hardly believe your eyes and ears right now. Your co-worker only nods and quickly takes over your duties while Jeonghan helps you to your feet. Despite your protests, he guides you outside the café, keeping a loose grip on your arm before you get yourself to separate from him in a brief panic.

"Jeonghan, you can't just𑁋just take me out of work like this."

He shoots you a bewildered look. "You're sick, Y/N. It's obvious."

"I know, and I'm fine. It's just stress and bad sleep. Please, just take me back to the café𑁋"

"You have Hanahaki," he says flatly and outright. "I've seen you cough them up. You don't have to hide it from me."

Jeonghan's words hang in the air like an anchor sinking in the ocean. You freeze, your heart pounding in your chest, and your mind races to find some way to deny it, to deflect the truth. But deep down, you know he's right.

Jeonghan, however, doesn't press you for an explanation. Instead, he takes you by the wrist gently and drags you to his car parked nearby.

"Jeonghan𑁋"

"I've had it, Y/N. I've had Hanahaki before," he confesses, a solemn look to his face as his words sink inside you.

You're quiet for a few moments as his words hang suspended in the air, a heavy silence between you two. Hearing that kind of news is from him is oddly... both surprising and comforting, knowing how how rare the illness is. But maybe just maybe, he might understand what you're going through, even if you can't seem to understand yourself.

Once you finally slide into the passenger seat of his car, you manage to get your voice back.

"You've... had it? I mean, just... what happened... how did you get rid of it?"

Once the car engine roars to life, Jeonghan just releases a small chuckle.

"It's the usual story: you fall in love with someone who doesn't love you back. It was terrifying, you know, seeing bits of your feelings turn into something physical like that. I waited too long, so I ended up getting the surgery." There's a shadow of some passing tree branches that cast on his face for a moment. "They never told me the surgery would also mean that my feelings would completely disappear, but it was the only way to save my life."

His face remains calm as he continues to drive, keeping his eyes on the road while your own thoughts were juggling together like a tangled mess of strings.

For a moment, Mingyu's face flashes in your mind, and you wish he were here with you. But you're torn. You don't want to burden him with this.

"I'm so sorry you had to go through that," You finally say, keeping your voice low. It was all you can say at the moment.

Once the car stops at a red light, he turns to you with a small, sad smile. "Don't be. It was a long time ago, and it taught me a lot of lessons, you could say. I survived, and you will too."

Another round of silence passes through the car, but this one feels less heavy, more contemplative. You watch the passing scenery outside the window as your thoughts continue to whirl like a storm within your mind. Knowing that Jeonghan survived offers a glimmer of hope, but it also deepens your sense of isolation𑁋that you can't lean on Mingyu for support in the same way.

You don't want to lose your feelings for him. You've already built this start of a future with him, and you can't bear the thought of basically removing him from your life for no solid reason.

"I-I have a boyfriend, you know," You blurt out, interrupting the silence, hearing Jeonghan let out an acknowledging hum for you to go on. "We've been together for the past two years, and whenever the... coughing, petals, all this started happening, it confused me."

"The heart is a complicated place," Jeonghan assures you.

You faintly smile at that. "I still love him, I'm sure of that. I know I do. I've never had feelings for anyone else. I just... I can't figure out why this is happening, why I'm coughing up these stupid petals in the first place, and it's been eating me up inside. It hurts."

Jeonghan listens intently as you pour your heart out, his eyes fixed on the road ahead but his attention fully on you. When you finish speaking, he clears his throat.

"You haven't... told him yet, haven't you?" he asks softly, breaking the silence.

You shake your head. "No, I haven't. I-I've just been... scared that I've been pushing him away, leading him on and I don't know about it. What if... if my heart is just betraying me? And now, with this... I don't know what to do."

Jeonghan's lips purse together thoughtfully.

"I think... If you know you love someone, you do," he says. "But... what makes you certain that he loves you back in the same way?"

Jeonghan's question hits you like a ton of bricks. It's a question you've been dying to avoid for this entire time, a fear that's been lurking in the shadows of your heart and the deepest corners of your mind.

What if... Mingyu didn't love you back?

The thought startles a cough out of you and you hastily bring your hand to your mouth, suppressing it as much as you can, the fragile petals fluttering out and settling on your lap. Squinting your eyes just slightly, you notice how they appear more redder than the usual pink you were used to seeing. You clench your hand around them, knuckles white from the tension, and swallow hard. Jeonghan shoots a quick glance of worry in your direction.

"I... I don't know," You utter out shakily. And what if I don't want to know?

The rest of the car ride is relatively quiet with the occasional taps of Jeonghan's fingers on the steering wheel, but not uncomfortably so. You can sense the concern radiating off Jeonghan, but he doesn't push you to talk further.

"You need to talk to him, Y/N," is all he says after turning into the parking lot of the doctor's office.

Once you get out of his car, you turn back to Jeonghan and give him a light wave.

I know, You tell yourself in your head. I know I do.

You stare blankly at the dark red petal in your hand, its edges slightly crumpled from where it had been caught between your trembling fingers. You can hear the faint ticking of the clock on the wall itching at your skin, a constant reminder that time is passing, and you're running out of it.

Balling the petal in your hand, you stand up from where you sat on the bed and march out the bedroom. For a second, you felt like you weren't in control of your legs, yet you know you have to take advantage of the chance to muster up the courage to finally tell Mingyu everything.

Not just about the Hanahaki, but about... everything that has been suffocating you inside. It's all you've been thinking about for the past few weeks. When you step into the living room, you spot him sitting at your small dining set, focused on his work as ever with the laptop screen in front of him casting a glow to his face. He doesn't even look up when you announce your presence near him, and your heart clenches at that.

Taking a deep breath, you speak up, "Mingyu, we need to talk."

Mingyu doesn't look up, his focus still on his work, brows furrowing together. "Can it wait, Y/N? I'm in the middle of something important."

You hesitate for a moment, feeling something inside you wince at his words. "No, it can't wait. It's about us."

"Y/N, it's one in the morning right now𑁋"

"Do you even still love me anymore?" The question leaves your mouth all at once, and you swear it even freezes this exact moment that you are in.

The room falls into a suffocating silence. Mingyu finally tears his gaze away from the laptop, his eyes meeting yours. In that moment, you see a complex mix of emotions in his eyes: surprise, guilt, and something else you can't quite place.

"I..." he starts, voice shaky. "Y/N, you can't just𑁋"

"Just answer the fucking question, Kim Mingyu." You clench the petal in your hand, feeling its dry, sharp edges dig into your skin. Then you realise the harshness to your words, softening your eyes and lowering your voice. "Please."

The room seems to close in around you as you wait for Mingyu's response. His hesitation hangs in the air, and you see the way his shoulders slump and the way his face contorts as he struggles to find the right words to say to just a simple question.

"I... I don't know, Y/N."

His words stab your heart. It's getting hard to breathe, but you can't let yourself cough now. Not in this moment. The petal in your hand crumples into dust as you clench it tighter.

"What the hell do you mean, you don't know?" Your voice trembles as you ask, searching his eyes for any sign of reassurance. "You either love me or you don't, just tell me, for God's sake."

Your frustration is evident, tone catching him off-guard. Mingyu's gaze drops to the table, and he lets out a heavy sigh.

"...I'm sorry, Y/N. I-I'm so so sorry."

His words hit you like a punch to the gut, and you can feel the tears welling up in your eyes. This is what you've been afraid of, what you've been trying to avoid. But now that it's out in the open, it feels like a heavy weight has been lifted, even if it's crushing you at the same time.

And then, you feel it𑁋a sharp pain to your lungs that makes you gasp as if you've been stabbed by a searing blade. The room spins as you struggle to catch your breath, your hands trembling as you clutch your chest, letting out harrowing coughs after coughs. Mingyu jumps up from his seat, immediately racing to your side.

"Y/N?! Shit, Y/N, you're bleeding𑁋"

You can't respond, the pain in your chest and the taste of blood in your mouth overwhelming your senses. You hold onto him for support as another bout of coughing consumes you. This isn't how you wanted to reveal your condition to him, but there's no hiding it now.

You feel the way Mingyu scoops you into his arms, the blood from your mouth and the petals staining his shirt as he reaches for his phone to dial emergency services. His voice is helpless and frantic, and within seconds, minutes, maybe even whole hour, you hear the distant wail of approaching sirens.

The soft hum of machines echo through the air as you stir awake, eyes fluttering open and the blinding white lights above blurring your vision. The first sensation that you register was the overwhelming scent of disinfectant filling your nose, sharp and pungent. Then came the dull ache in your chest that makes your breath quietly hitch.

Blinking your eyes open, you realise you're in a hospital room, the pale morning light filtering through the curtains. The sight of white walls and strange medical equipment, an IV line running into your arm, makes your heart race anxiously. You try to take a deep breath, but then you feel that ache in your chest again, and it makes you groan.

Just then at that moment, a young looking nurse enters the room, her eyes widening when she catches sight of you awake and distressed.

"Easy now," she says, rushing to your side and gently pushing you back down onto the bed. "You've just had surgery. You need to rest."

Surgery...?

You could only nod weakly, your throat too dry to speak. You watch as the nurse adjusts some of the monitors and checks your vitals, making sure everything was in place.

"Everything went well during the surgery," she reassures you. "But the hanahaki flowers had grown more aggressively than expected and showed signs of piercing through your lungs. It's a good thing we performed the emergency surgery when we did."

Hanahaki... The word lingers in your mind as you try to make sense of it all. Memories began to resurface: the petals mixing with your blood, the coughing fits, and... Mingyu. It all seemed so distant now, as if it had happened to someone else.

"You were lucky that we caught in time before the growth would have overtaken your lungs," the nurse says sympathetically while writing down your vitals on a chart.

Lucky. How ironic. You were alive, yes, but at what cost? You couldn't help but wonder if the surgery had taken more from you than just the hanahaki flowers.

And then it hits you.

There's no trace of the pain that had clawed at your chest for so long, except for the skin atop your heart where you can feel the incisions. The hanahaki flowers are gone, removed during the emergency surgery, but there's something else missing too𑁋your feelings, your love, for Mingyu.

You feel nothing. No pining, no longing, no aching heart. It's as if a weight has been lifted from your chest, but the emptiness is... disquieting, unnerving, just a void, a hole in place of where your warmth resided in.

You're no longer in love with Mingyu, just like he is for you.

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