#the economy of love in close quarters | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

daytaker · 4 months

Note

Hello! I’ve viewed your blog a few times and i really really like the way that you write, so when I learned that asks were i couldn’t help but make a request. Can we get some headcaons of the brothers meeting MC’s family for the first time and already Mama MC doesn’t like any of them because “they took away her baby.” Sorry if this is a little cringe.

But of course!

(Part 2: The Dateables + Luke)

"Mom, Dad, meet seven of my boyfriends."

...is what you want to say, but you know better than to panic your parents and fluster your totally platonic demon friends at a time like this.

And what a time it is. Here you are, surrounded by your parents, an aunt, your grandpa, and your sister, trying to calm your mother down from yet another diatribe about how you can't just get up and leave for a year---I mean, God, the police were looking for you! The police! You realize we thought they'd find your body in the woods somewhere? How could you do this to us?!---when suddenly:

Knock, knock. Knock knock knock knock knock knock. Thud. Thud. Thud.

"MC! Hey MC!"

"Mammon, if they hear you, you'll ruin the surprise!"

You and your relatives stare at the door. Then they all look at you. You give an awkward smile.

"Just give me a minute... I think those are some friends of mine..."

You really wish you lived somewhere besides a one bedroom apartment, but honestly, impossible in this economy. So you don't have anywhere remotely private to tell the brothers to scatter until the dust clears. In fact, the instant you open the door, Asmodeus flings his arms around you and kisses you on the cheek---in full view of your family, mind you!---and Beel shoves a box of half-eaten chocolates into your hand. Then seven voices are all clamoring for your attention at once on one end, and another five behind you. There are thirteen individuals in this tiny apartment, you realize, and you don't even have enough seats for your family to all sit. Your sister's seated on the floor.

"Heyyyyy guys, now's....not a great time...." A smile is plastered to your face as you tip your head in the direction of your extremely concerned parents. "And...seriously? It hasn't been two weeks yet."

Mammon looks confused, then indignant. "What? ...Hey, what the hell? You're already makin' new friends?! We really that replaceable?!"

Lucifer, who stands in the back holding a balloon bouquet with a jarringly serious expression on his face, speaks up. "I believe those are MC's relatives, Mammon. It seems we came at an inopportune time after all."

"Relatives?!" Asmo and Mammon hurry on over to give them all a good look-over, the others curiously observing.

"You're MC's mom, aren't you! Oh, MC! I see where you get your cheekbones!" Asmo gushes as your mother stares at him like he's from another planet. Which he sort of is, in a sense.

"MC? Who are these people?" your grandpa asks with bewilderment and not a small amount of concern.

"They're, um..."

"They're hot." Your sister waves her fingers at the group, and you wish you had perma-died in that attic.

You need to explain yourself quickly. On the spot. You'd already told your family you'd had a bit of a quarter-life crisis and gone backpacking across the country for the year, working through the mental collapse that living in the 21st century inevitably caused, so you ride off of that. These are a ragtag bunch you met on the road, you explain. You'd spent the better part of last year roughing it from the hills of Kentucky to the forests of Washington with these guys, and you'd become incredibly close as a result. You'd lived together, laughed together, loved together, and some of them even tried to kill you on a few occasions.

("'Tried'?" mutters Satan, and Belphie gives him a death glare.)

Under the leadership of the charismatic eldest brother, Lucifer, you'd become so close that it felt as if your very souls were somehow tethered---

"I'm sorry, 'Lucifer'?" Your mom has had just about enough of this. She approaches you with a look of heartbreaking concern in her eyes and cups your face. "....Baby, did you join a cult?"

"Who does she think she is, callin' 'em that?" seethes Mammon under his breath.

"Mammon, she's my MOM."

"Alright, I think I've seen enough." Dad gets up and eyes the boys sternly. "I dunno what you've been doing with my child, but it's gonna stop, you understand? I've got a homicide detective on speed dial because of you clowns."

"Is this where they get their assertiveness from?" speculated Levi to Beel, who simply shrugged.

"Listen, I think you're all just...misunderstanding each other!" Son of Gardonus, where are you even supposed to start? You grab the nearest demon---

(Individual brothers are below the cut!)

Lucifer

"This is Lucifer."

He gives you a look that says 'you really are as stupid as I've sometimes feared'. Why didn't you come up with a fake name?

"That was a joke."

Good, things are still salvageable.

"Because following his instructions is a lot like being in Hell."

He hates you.

"If that's the devil, then call me a sinner," your aunt says, sipping her third glass of wine.

"His real name is Boris."

He hates you so much.

"Pretty well-dressed for a man who spent a year on the road," observes your Mom with undisguised distrust. "Let me guess: while you were out gathering food and panhandling to survive, he stayed indoors doing whatever the hell he felt like doing, and at the end of the day, you'd take everything you'd earned and hand it over to him, and he'd toss you some pittance in return."

"How does she know that?!" Mammon gasps.

You try explaining to your mom that there was no cult, but she hushes you remorselessly.

You beg Lucifer with your eyes not to kill your entire family please. It seems to work.

Mammon

"Mammon, these are my parents. Mom, Dad, this is Mammon. Mammon, say hello."

"Hello. Agh! Dammit! You're really gonna use that now?!"

Oops. Pact magic. It can be a little unpredictable at times. You ruffle his hair apologetically.

The two of you were pretty much inseparable over the last year, you explain. "Best buds, pretty much." He was the first of the group you got close with. Mammon seems extremely proud of this.

"Please tell me 'best bud' isn't a euphemism, MC." Your dad gives you a pleading look. "I don't know how many more surprises I can take today." You two seem far too affectionate and touchy-feely for his liking.

Your sister grins at him from her seat on the floor, which seems to embarrass and confuse him tremendously. He's refusing to look at her. Poor guy. The two of you do look a lot alike...

Levi

"This is Levi."

"Ah, that almost sounds like a normal name. Why Leh-vee, though? Why don't you pronounce it LEE-vie?

"It's short for Leviathan," he says before you can stop him.

Your sister starts cackling and Levi is very embarrassed and indignant but mostly confused.

"Is this like a cult thing?" your aunt asks. "Naming everyone after biblical demons?" She nods and raises her eyebrows, impressed, and lifts her glass in Lucifer's direction.

"And you've been out roughing it in the great outdoors?" your grandpa asks.

"Errrr..."

"Yes, he has."

"Hmm...." Grandpa stares at Levi without a word, and your sister cackles again, and Levi looks like he'll either start bawling or go full demon and kill everybody in a sort of panicked rage. You return him to his brothers.

Satan

"This is---"

"I'm Derek. Nice to meet you."

You side-eye Satan. Apparently he was not taking any risks of you straight up calling him 'Satan' in front of everyone.

Your sister and aunt both look disappointed by this name, which seems to please Satan a whole lot.

"So," your mom says, thinking this little introduction has gotten off to way too friendly a start, "you're another one of MC's... 'friends', are you?"

"Yep," you say, refusing to acknowledge that there was any innuendo to read into.

"How the hell did you get wrapped up in a cult, Derek?" your aunt asks incredulously. "You look like you came straight from a prep school... Or the Ivies, or something. Kid, let me tell you what." She points a finger at Satan without giving him an opportunity to respond. "Let me tell you, you're gonna kick yourself when you're old and ugly and you realize you wasted your time in a cult looking like you were headed to a game of polo."

"You should've given yourself a cool name like those other guys," your sister throws in.

"Guys, please."

"What? At least the other guys had character. Lucifer, the sexy vampire prince, or something. Mammon, the... Is he a himbo or a bad boy?" ("A himbo," you confirm.) "Mammon, the hellish himbo! Leviathan, a literal fish out of water! But him? This guy's just Derek from IT." Your sister blows a raspberry and gives a thumb down. "Next."

Behind you, you hear Lucifer mutter, "Mammon. Levi. Hold Satan back."

Asmo

"This is Asmo. Please don't tear him a new one, he's---"

Your sister shakes her head. "I would NEVER. This guy looks like so much fun. Like, I'm getting shopping all day, clubbing all night vibes, am I right?"

Asmo winks at your sister, and she blushes. She blushes. You're in awe.

"Hellooooo~! I'm Asmodeus, and it's wonderful to meet you all!"

"You're the one that kissed my grandchild," Grandpa recalls, raising an accusatory finger at him.

"But MC loves when I give them kisses! Surely you all understand, right?"

....

"Right..."

....

Motherfucker, Asmo just charmed your family.

Beel

"This is Beel. Beel, this is...everyone."

"Hi. Good to meet you." Beel is very polite, if a bit uncomfortable.

"Well aren't you a drink of water and a half." You hate your aunt so much sometimes.

Beel frowns. "I'd rather have something a little more filling than water."

You see a look in your aunt's eyes and you jump before she has the chance to strike.

"If you say you're on the menu, Aunt Gina, I swear--"

"What's 'Beel' short for?" your mom asks sternly.

"Beelzebub," Beel answers with an adorable but also infuriating level of innocence.

Your sister is cackling again.

Belphie

Hey, where'd Belphie go?

You look around, confused.

Oh. He wandered to your room while everyone was distracted.

He's sleeping on your bed, hugging your pillow. And drooling on it.

Your relatives stand behind you, observing the scene somberly.

"What's he on?" asks your sister in a whisper. "Like... he's definitely on something, right?"

"Freeloader. That goes for the whole lot of 'em. At least this one is honest about it. Just walks in and treats the place like it's his." Your dad is very annoyed.

"He's got narcolepsy," you insist. You don't know enough about narcolepsy to be sure if that seems like a reasonable excuse, but you're counting on your family not knowing either.

"How the hell did you all get around with a narcoleptic?" your aunt asks, elbowing Lucifer in the ribs. "Hah! Oh, MC, sweetie, I need a refill."

When you manage to get the brothers out of your apartment, you turn around and face your family. They're staring at you.

Your sister breaks the silence. "So like... how many of them have you--?"

321 notes · View notes

sindri42 · 2 years

Note

“ communist governments have always failed after killing millions of people”

The only communist government ever formed was Lenin’s Russia, which didn’t fail and killed no one.

Every other “communist” government was communist in name only and didn’t adhere to Marxist theory at all

Lenin started out by leading a violent coup. By which I mean he ordered his followers to attempt several violent coups, while he hid in safety far away from the killing, and the first few failed badly but eventually one managed to overthrow the Provisional Government.

The first thing that the Bolsheviks did was to try to legitimize themselves in the eyes of the people by moving forward with an election that the previous government had scheduled, confident that since The People loved them so much they would easily win the election, and from then on they could pretend to be legitimately elected instead of violent conquerors. They ended up with barely a quarter of the vote. So, naturally, Lenin declared that the election results couldn't possibly represent the true Will of The People and anybody who said otherwise must be a dangerous Counter-Revolutionary. This kinda sets the tone for everything that followed.

Then several other socialist parties, and many people within the Bolsheviks themselves, called for the creation of a coalition government to represent all the various interests and needs of the Russian people. Lenin rejected this and forcibly disbanded all other political groups to form a One Party State.

From there, major policies from Lenin include but are not limited to:

all land seized, to become government property

any media outlets which criticize the government were closed; this was initially presented as a temporary measure only needed in the earliest stages of the revolution, but remained in place through Lenin's death seven years later… and then the entire rest of the existence of the Soviet Union… and to a large extent to this day

abolished the legal system, replacing it with Revolutionary Tribunals which were instructed to ignore existing laws and instead decide people's fates based on a "socialist sense of justice" and the "revolutionary conscience". Within a few months this transitioned into the Red Terror, a campaign of executions killing at least 100,000 (in an official capacity, on top of all the local witch hunts and grudges), primarily targeting anybody suspected of opposing Lenin's rule, but also "social undesirables" such as prostitutes

called for the workers of each enterprise to elect their own local committees to monitor and manage their productivity… but then made those committees subservient to the trade unions, which in turn were made subservient to the Supreme Council of the National Economy, which sacrificed the interests of the workers and local economies in favor of the creation of a grand "centralized economic plan"

mandated that every citizen from the age of 16 to 50 must work full time

"the state is an institution built up for the sake of exercising violence. Previously, this violence was exercised by a handful of moneybags over the entire people; now we want to organize violence in the interests of the people." Strongly opposed any suggestion to abolish capital punishment, and continually emphasized the need for terror in "overthrowing the old order and ensuring the success of the revolution", even years after the revolution ended

ridiculed any socialist group around the world which sought a peaceful route to their goals, calling instead for the violent overthrow of all the "bourgeoisie" governments of europe… and for all the new communist nations created to submit themselves to the ultimate authority of the Bolsheviks

when accused by others within the Communist Party of making the new Russian State too centralized and bureaucratic while losing the trust of the working class, declared a ban on all "factional activity" within the party, on pain of expulsion

established concentration camps, in which 70,000+ political prisoners were used as slave labor

decreed that any "intellectuals" who were not already working for the Bolshevik government should be exiled to the most inhospitable parts of Russia

called for the execution of all "anti-Bolshevik" priests, killing at least 20,000 (mostly Orthodox Church, but also including Jews and Muslims)

when food shortages began in 1918, Lenin blamed them on peasant farmers supposedly hoarding grain, and established armed detachments to seize their food by force to redistribute to the cities, leading to widespread violence, social disorder, and public mass executions… and a dramatic decrease in food production, for reasons that should surprise nobody except a communist.

when a terrible drought began in 1921, Lenin continued to "requisition" all the products of the starving farmers, and then to export the majority of the grain to other countries instead of distributing it to his own people, resulting in roughly five million deaths by starvation alleviated only by the American Relief Administration

when Patriarch Tikhon called on Orthodox churches to sell unnecessary items to help feed the starving, responded by calling for all valuables belonging to religious institutions to be forcibly appropriated by the government, resulting in widespread violence

when starving peasants began resistance movements across Russia to oppose the government's seizure of their food, hundreds of thousands were directly killed by the Red Army while hundreds of thousands more were arrested and forced into slave labor.

So, did Lenin's government fail? Well, he initially gathered his support base with two fundamental assertions: first, that after the proletariat revolution the State would naturally "wither away" over time, leaving behind true and pure Communism. But every year after the revolution, his State seized more power for itself and perpetrated more violence upon any citizens who opposed totalitarian control. Second was the prediction that similar proletariat revolutions would take place across every nation in europe within a few months; this obviously never happened. So in terms of his own 'campaign promises', he was either lying about everything or failed on all counts.

In terms of the continued existence of the state he created, there are two possible interpretations. The first is that "Lenin's government" could not survive a single day after the man's death, and so lasted less than seven years before being replaced by a different government (using the same name) run by Stalin. In this case, Lenin's government failed after killing around seven or eight million people. The alternate interpretation, that the Soviet Union was lenin's government, means that it survived for an additional sixty-seven years… and killed an additional 50+ million people along the way, before failing in 1991. (For comparison, the total deaths in battle from all the wars of the 20th century add up to about 36 million.)

Either way, claiming that his government "didn’t fail and killed no one" is demonstrating a level of delusion that I have rarely seen.

The best thing I can say about Lenin is that he wasn't as bad as Stalin or Mao. He probably wasn't quite as bad as Hitler, but there's room for debate there. He was certainly worse than Pol Pot, Saddam Hussein, Idi Amin, and Ivan the Terrible put together.

1K notes · View notes

cerastes · 8 months

Text

The final versions of the three machines that saw me through my first playthrough of Armored Core 6!

Loverboy: My first craft, and as you can see, the result of the limited access to parts characteristic of the early game of Armored Core when you are still a nameless merc, haha. Melander C3 set-up with an emphasis on close to mid-range combat, with a linear rifle, a pulse blade, and two 4-pod missile launchers. Straightforward and simple, the AC that is an AC. I tend to build all-rounder midrangers when starting out any given generation of AC since that way I can see what clicks and what suits me best. Loverboy is best described as a test craft. Of note is that I quickly went for Abbot FCS, despite ostensibly this being a midranger. This is foreshadowing.

Black Market: That was foreshadowing. I have a predilection for close quarters combat and melee, and also I like speed, so I got rid of all that pesky armor and HP by going full Firmeza, doublefisted shotguns (Zimmermans... Zimmermen?), swapped out the pulse blade for a true and tried grandpa laser blade, and retained one 4-pod launcher for neutral and harassment. This was what I used for practically all of the run. Due to the low weight of my set-up, I put larger generators than I was suppose to on a craft this light, making my energy economy really good. Not having HP is fine if you don't get hit, and they can't hit you if they are dead in 3 seconds from getting shotgunned into ACS break and then torn apart by a laser blade, trust me. *Loosely inspired on my Penglai from For Answer.

Queenslayer: A final upgrade, used for the final fight. Replaced the head and core with Alba models, and the trusty 4-pod can finally retire, replaced with an autonomous laser orbiter. The laser blade, too, is replaced by a laser dagger, allowing for quick, precise killing blows. Thanks to Abbot FCS and the Alula thrusters, closing in on enemies is both easy, consistent and fast, allowing for repeated high damage attacks between the laser dagger and the shotguns. The orbiter functions a harassment role and to give the enemy something to worry about at all times. All of this while conserving the speed necessary to make such an aggressive fighting style work. This is what I'll be taking to NG+. *Queenslayer is an AC name I use in every game, usually for my endgame craft.

MAN the Alba head looks so good, plus the Alba head + core with the Firmeza arms and legs looks really nice, especially when those wiry arms are doublefisting those huge shotguns, makes for an intimidating image and my ideal mech aesthetique(tm). I'm in love with the laser dagger, too, it enables my most toxic traits like a doom-eyed lover.

76 notes · View notes

vanhelsingapologist · 5 months

Text

I expect quick deaths. All characters have been buffed accordingly.

Some notes:

Arrigal’s male manipulation is rated E for everyone. He already started with pretty high stats, so adding that +1 could be curtains for our contestants.

Bildrath single-handedly controls the Barovian economy and that was crazy enough that I just let him stay as is a la Mad Mage and Strahd.

Vladimir’s bitchlessness acts like an aura. It’s 30x30. You may be tempted to let him die so he can be with Sufjan-Stevens-loving-Godfrey, but consider if that’s what we want in this timeline.

The Wachterbros can haze people to death and can self destruct once.

The Bride’s demands are three quarters met. So close!

There’s something looming in the distance for the winner. His shadow expands across the valley…

ok fight.

#barovian battle royale #polls #curse of strahd spoilers

12 notes · View notes

rinstaro · 10 months

Note

Hey fam… you’ve been kinda quiet .3. You good?

TLDR; kore no write cause she’s struggling financially and fighting for her life in this economy

uhhhh so hi friends !!! i’ve missed you all dearly, i swear !! there’s literally 20+ requests in my inbox cause i never came back to close them bwdiidskdk

however i kinda need $4k and i’m not a very fortunate gal </33 i’ve literally just been working day and night and haven’t touched my laptop

:( i’m so sorry all of you, there’s SEVEN HUNDRED of you now i don’t even know what to do with that much love !!!

good news is i’m a quarter of the way there! i got $1k saved up !! i really do wanna start writing again </33 it’s so upsetting that i had to just leave you all like this but i think i’ll try to make some time to write at least something

also good news is my birthday is in a couple days on the 9th :D !!!

i’ll be back, i promise <3

#kore.talks #important

21 notes · View notes

svnflower-writes · 6 months

Text

info about my main WIPS rn:

i have too many WIPS shut up i know

original stories:

next christmas:

short story (kind of, if I say it's a short story it'll still be lots of words lmao) about two girls and a small look into their life each christmas and they're best friends who think their pining is unrequited and every time they're like "it's ok it'll happen next christmas!" and it just doesn't and they have to deal with lots of mental health stuff

main characters:

August: lesbian, she/her, i love her so much she's the loml, people pleaser, slowly realises that she doesn't have to be the second choice and she should be a priority, is a bit of an asshole to Lottie in like chapters 5-9 but Lottie deserves it tbh

Charlotte/Lottie: bisexual, she/they, kind of a bitch a lot of the time, gets into relationships for like a week and then gets into another one a month later, commitment issues, eventually has a redemption arc thing and she actually does deserve August

Ayanda/Aya: asexual, panromantic, they/she, they are my spirit animal i love her so much, August's new bestie, absolute sweetheart who values friendship over anything else, also basically the reason EVERYTHING happens in the story

everyone else is kinda irrelevant ngl

love is not enough:

name will definitely change I hate it.

plot is very complicated idk if I even understand it and I'm the one writing it 😭💀 basically gay royalty but it's confusing and the economy is dying and the main love interest is kinda a fugitive??? i guess???? lots of secrets yay

main characters:

kit chevalier-fernsby: gay (very much closeted), he/him, prince, science, slightly pretentious but that's his parents fault, he loves dates where they stay in with blankets and candles and hot chocolate and read books together. he's such a cutie patootie i wanna give him a hug <3

lucas akehurst: unlabelled, he/they, gaurd, hopeless romantic, artist, midnight walks in the rain + art galleries + coffee, mysterious. he is my baby i will protect him at all costs.

no side character information bc i can't be bothered <3

fanfics

hell is a teenage girl:

hunger games fic! finnick's younger (15 years old) sister going through her hunger games and gaining a lot of trauma. very emotion and relationship (familial, platonic, and romantic but the friends she makes are arguably more valuable to her than her relationship). basically she goes through what finnick goes through and she learns to be a manipulative little shit bc what else is she meant to do

main characters:

serena odair: loml. bisexual icon (with a preference for woman) who is a little bit manipulative but let's be real when you're in the arena you do whatever the fuck you can to stay alive. district four, she wins (duh she's the main character) and her brother means absolutely everything to her. spoiler: trauma yay

cassie farwater: serena's best friend! district 11 and a mean lesbian. 16 years old and her friends mean the world to her. her loyalty is what gets her killed.

eloise astor: serena's gf!! district one – been training for the games her whole life so it comes as a big surprise when she sacrifices herself for marina!!

kaz claremont: the district partner/close friend – he's quite and determined and he listens. he knows all the gossip. very impulsive and bold. panromantic + asexual

ash terra: the only person who gives serena a run for her money in the manipulative category. he's an absolute bitch and will stab anyone in the back without hesitation. makes it clear to everyone that this isn't a game of trust. district 3

sadie nightgrove: district 5, cassie's gf. bisexual. very charming and puts on a clueless facade before turning on people. despite being absolutely able to win the games she would never hurt the people she's allied with - and that is her downfall

mad woman

sequel to hell is a teenage girl and yes it's named after the taylor swift song. quarter quell and lots of serena and finnick sibling bonding. very protective finnick and very manipulative (not to finnick) serena, they're a power duo.

serena is like the only original character in this so she's basically the same just more traumatized and hotter.

#luc writes #luc posts #writeblr #writing

9 notes · View notes

360degreesasthecrowflies · 8 months

Text

I generally had a lovely weekend with my parents BUT I realised only when I got home that for some reason once again they have been making the underlying assumption (for some reason!) that when I have been having a hard time DUE TO MY HEALTH CONDITIONS that that is secretly code for something else.

This entire weekend the discussion has been about how (in their opinion) I would be much happier if I owned my own house (which might be possible at some point in the future) which I had taken all weekend as a strange non-sequitur...

But then this evening which was our last night together discussion turned to "when you're better", "when you have the right medication" etc. and...

That isn't going to happen. Not because I don't want it to, but because my body (like all of our bodies, in good health or less so) has a threshold of what it can manage.

I find it kind of fascinating that some (perhaps many!) fully able-bodied people have a perception that there is an objective pinnacle of health that can be reached by anyone if you are just helped in the right way, by the right doctor or medication etc. That one day someone like me will just 'be healthy' instead of that I might have to adapt.

It hasn't upset me, if anything I just find it strange. I've already adapted to my life. It would sure help out though if those close to me would be a little realistic though!

As for the house thing, I need to think on that and filter what they actually meant in light of the fact that, if they don't realllly believe me about my health, they might not believe me about other things.

For example, I live by myself, THANKFULLY I can FINALLY afford to - the fantasy of many millennials and gen Z, right? (even some gen x?) to not HAVE TO have roommates and be sharing one bathroom, keeping all your food in one cupboard and living off one third or one quarter of a fridge despite being a working adult of the age at which your parents or older relatives may have owned AN ENTIRE HOUSE to themselves.

My parents are urging me to get someone to live with me again and want me to spend more money on a bigger house and then get a lodger in or someone to help pay the mortgage. So it seems that somehow they were under the impression that when I had a lower-paid job and roommates, that was just a coincidence, not... that the one was directly caused by the other - even though I've talked about it multiple times.

I suppose it would be neater for them if structural issues like my health, the economy etc. just didn't exist as real barriers. But who can live like that these days?

#musings #thoughts #health #disability #text post #2023 #housing #personal

4 notes · View notes

mariacallous · 9 months

Text

For most global observers trying to make sense of recent events in West Africa, the key points of interest follow a story as old as the Cold War: Outside of enormous humanitarian crises, the only events that garner much attention in Africa are contests between big outside powers.

For decades, that mostly meant the rivalry between the United States and the Soviet Union. More recently, during a period when Beijing’s profile on the continent was sharply rising, it was U.S. interests versus China’s. And now, following the coup in Niger, writers have been rushing out analyses about a seesaw battle between Washington and Moscow in Africa’s Sahel region, with the added wrinkle of the shadowy Russian mercenary outfit known as the Wagner Group.

The years may come and go, but the main question asked in the rich world seems to never change: How will the rise of the latest authoritarian government on the block that doesn’t hew closely to Europe or Washington threaten to reduce U.S. or Western influence and power?

As persistent as it is, this pattern of assessments can only continue so long as the writers only think in the short term and fail to ask bigger questions. For starters, that might include looking into why, if Africa supposedly matters so much to Washington (or Europe), it hasn’t built more solid relations with the countries of that continent by now, into most African countries’ seventh decade of independence and nominal sovereignty.

As in Niger in the last two weeks, the least hint of a supposedly menacing wind from any authoritarian quarter brings on all kinds of heebie-jeebies for policy people in Washington (and Paris, in this case), as well as for most Western commentators. What they never seem to get around to asking is why the United States (or the continent’s former imperial bosses) has such tenuous relations with African countries in the first place, nor what—let’s stick to Washington for now—the country’s diplomats have been doing on the continent all this time to make the arrival of a new potential partner for an African state seem so disruptive and challenging.

To pursue such questions would invite painful self-scrutiny. Washington has mostly dawdled away the decades in Africa, switching around policy slogans every few years according to the tides of fashion but mostly sticking to two messages for Africans. The first: Don’t look to us for any kind of checkbook help in terms of vitalizing your economies. We wish you well as you pursue something called “public-private partnerships,” which usually mean very little of the former and not so much from the latter, either, unless the private businesses are involved in oil and gas.

The other well-worn theme is, of course, democracy. U.S. policymakers profess to love it in Africa, but they’ve never shown much skill at figuring out how to promote it there—nor, as the Niger coup amply demonstrates, defend it when it comes under attack. Washington spends a fair amount on military assistance in friendly African countries, but this is mostly about protecting U.S. interests, such as the so-called war on terror. As this Wall Street Journal piece shows, this has proved of little help when African democracies come under internal attack.

Let’s look at the threat side of the equation for a moment, though. As China dramatically expanded its influence in Africa beginning in the 1990s, especially accelerating in the early 2000s, did this really come at Washington’s expense, as so many handwringers warned? Very few are the African states that would not welcome much more U.S. (or Western) investment today, however thriving their China ties are. And many of these would also welcome much closer political relations, for that matter, so long as they were respectful. Such things would require change in Washington, though, and there is no hint of that on the horizon.

This makes all the talk about Russian gains in the Sahel and, more broadly, in Africa sound all the shallower. Yes, it is true that Moscow or Wagner could conceivably take over operational control of some of Washington’s drone bases in this very poor and generally sparsely inhabited region of Africa—and even possibly win some mining business there, too. But if this hasn’t happened with a much more thriving and dynamic China, which but the most desperate African countries would like to lash their medium- or long-term fortunes to Russia?

One quick measure of an answer came from the attendance at the 2023 Russia-Africa forum in St. Petersburg, which took place as the Niger coup was unfolding. According to one recent assessment, African participation at the head-of-state level was significantly lower than at the first such summit in 2019. It was also lower than at the U.S.-Africa summit last December.

All of this is to say that most of the reflexive talk about which outside power is winning or losing an edge in Africa is noise largely devoid of real significance. And to the extent that the United States gets worried, it only has itself to blame for being so unambitious in its engagement with the continent for so long. This reflexive focus has another negative effect, though. It prevents outsiders, and oftentimes even Africans themselves, from seeing what truly is significant about events surrounding the Niger coup.

The real action isn’t as spectacular as an international summit or headlines about great-power rivalry, and yet the most important politics in this and many other recent African crises are squarely African politics. These often draw upon deep historical currents that too few bother to take seriously. They also highlight the realities of state capacity and, indeed, state-making in Africa like little else. Finally, they point to an unavoidable reality: Africans will ultimately make or break their continent’s geopolitical landscape—and foreign interlopers, however muscle-bound they may appear, are ultimately fated to play a secondary role.

Witness, for instance, the visit to Niger shortly after the coup of the sultan of Sokoto, Muhammadu Abubakar—a spiritual leader of Nigeria’s Muslim community—as part of a mediation delegation from the Economic Community of West African States (ECOWAS). The sultan is revered and even followed by tens of millions of people in Nigeria as well as the neighboring countries of Niger and Chad, some of whom pay him tribute.

Today’s Sokoto state, located in northwestern Nigeria, and its sultan are the remnants of an indigenous caliphate that predated colonial rule and continues to hold influence and a grip on people’s imaginations and identities. That ECOWAS chose to send Abubakar to try to mediate Niger’s crisis shows that Africa’s own past, traditions, and many of the institutions that survived colonial rule retain more relevance in the lives of the continent’s people than many, especially outsiders, realize.

I have seen similar periods of intense intra-African geopolitics during my time writing about the continent. Nigeria’s leadership of peacekeeping efforts to help end the violence in deadly and disastrous wars in Liberia and Sierra Leone in the 1990s is one example. A conflict in post-Mobutu Zaire (Congo), which I also reported on from the ground, drew in so many of that giant central African country’s neighbors as rivals that it became known as Africa’s World War.

Niger’s coup has created a truly geopolitical moment for Africans—a time when the United States, Russia, France, and China became less immediately important than Africans themselves.

This is best seen in the role of Nigeria, the region’s largest country by far, whose new president, Bola Tinubu, happens to be the sitting head of ECOWAS, the region’s most important interstate political and economic organization. Tinubu and ECOWAS loudly insisted on the restoration of Niger’s overthrown leader as well as its democratic system. And it is not because the deadline they set for that to happen came and went (probably because several West African states vowed to defend Niger’s coup leaders) that this did not seem to matter.

Africans are feeling their way forward in the Sahel. This may seem halting, but it is indispensable for the region’s, and indeed Africa’s, future that Africans increasingly take charge of their own processes—creating their own bylaws, establishing their own guardrails, and brokering their own diplomatic as well as, where need be, military solutions.

I want to suggest an idea as old as the movement that led to independence on the continent starting with leaders like Kwame Nkrumah: African countries won’t begin to have meaningful sovereignty, and perhaps not be very consequential states at all, until they become the stewards and custodians of their own regions. This idea also draws on a venerable school in political science pioneered by the late social theorist Charles Tilly. His most cited nostrum was that war makes states.

Those who take this as a suggestion that African countries must fight each other as an obligatory step toward the development of capable states, as the European nations that Tilly studied once did, will have misunderstood me. What I mean, rather, is that working out an ever-deeper sense of mutual interest in regional political development, stability, and economic cooperation through deeper statecraft and engagement is going to be required of African nations if they are to get anywhere. And relying on outsiders to play front-line roles at the first sign of trouble will always be inimical to that.

2 notes · View notes

coldshrugs · 7 months

Text

the economy of love in close quarters, a learned thing

#io laithe #:> the things that make me see shrimp colors #ffxiv #azia gposes #io/estinien #io/zenos #io/haurchefant #io/mikoto #the trajectory of her love life is everything to me #the forced happiness to the conflation of recognition of the self through the other as intimacy #to a whirlwind fling because she can and she's hanging by a thread #to the comfort and intimacy and excited passion she's caught glimpses of but not quite been able to grasp as something whole #okay goodnight

49 notes · View notes

marleyswho · 21 days

Text

no woman, no cry (chapter three)

warnings. false awakening/reoccurring dream. fluff. introduction to more oc’s. mention and description of mental breakdown. ex-girlfriend and sisters. that kind of soul connected love. two-sided personality. slight neglect. hinting towards flirting. jealous!tish. possessive!tish. angst. tense arguing. a realization and apologies

tags. @shurislover @s0lam33y @desswright29 @pocketsizedpanther @naftalyspaces @oceean @tishlvr @bbbbbbrilliantly @shurisnovia @kisskourt @blkgworlamplified @prettymrswright @sweetalittleselfish-honey @jordisblogg

notes. this chapter contains… a lot, we’re hitting ALL the emotions. i’ve been ready to write this chapter for weeks as that scene was replaying in my head over and over and now it’s finally here. i hope you all love it ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

The Milan sun dips below the horizon, casting a soft amber hue over the bustling Malpensa Airport, the first time she’s felt the sun since leaving Jamaica. Genesis stands in the economy boarding line, her dreadlocks tied into a loose bun, tucked under a knit beanie. Her eyes, a reflective pool of thought, wander across the vast terminal, watching the world around her.

Once the line moves enough, she hands over the needed documents, a subtle sigh escaping her lips as she does, fingers brushing against a leather-bound journal in her bag, a collage of sketches and musings that mirror her soul.

Boarding the aircraft, Genesis nestles into her seat, the window to her left granting her a panoramic view of the bright tarmac lights. The seat beside her remains vacant, a small luxury in the cramped quarters of economy, and ahead of her is the curtain that divides the classes. She imagines Letitia, her relaxed posture in the cocoon of first-class comforts.

Genesis blacks out most of takeoff, having done it many times before, and though she doesn’t sleep well normally, there’s times where her body’s just so tired that she doesn’t even realize she falls into it.

And this time, when her eyes droop closed, an image floods her sight. It’s a field, a vast expanse of green that seems to stretch infinitely. And there’s a small child, maybe no older than nine. It’s her, a child with braids, her clothes a couple sizes too large on her skinny frame, billowing around her as she runs. But it isn’t joyous, there’s no laughter, only fear clear on her face, set by the sudden harsh crackle of incoming flames.

She doesn’t say a word, doesn’t scream for help, only her ragged breathes are heard as she runs towards her view of the scene, an intuitive understanding that to turn would be to acknowledge the fear gnawing at her heels. And she’s never been one for that.

She hears the gallop of hooves suddenly, a man on the horse a persistent shadow in her periphery. His presence is ominous as he rides after her, yet there’s something strangely familiar, like a forgotten verse of a once-loved song.

And then she hears the hum.

The tune’s a constant, melodic notes, deep and experienced, echoing a timelessness that feels both foreign and familiar, seemingly etched into her very soul. Yet its origin remains a mystery, obscured like a half-remembered lullaby.

The dream dissolves as the Captain’s voice announces their descent into Heathrow, and Genesis stirs, her eyes opening to the sterile light of the cabin, causing her eyebrows to furrow.

Still in a sleepy haze, she stows her journal, making an internal commitment to try and decipher the dream’s meaning later, wether be in sketch or writing, and she checks the seat pocket and the floor before zipping up her carry-on, knowing she has everything, now ready for landing, ready for the return back to urban life in its entirety. And the humming retreats into the recesses of her mind, where it will wait, patient and steadfast, for the night’s sleep, or a moment of meditation, or even revelation, when she’ll finally be able to recognize it for what it is.

Once she’s able to get off the plane, she steps into limited space of the tunnel, and she’s not sure she’s excited or even relieved of the arrival. But then she sees her, Letitia, standing in the slightly more open space next to some workers, a soft smile turning her lips up slightly. Her presence is a balm to the fatigue and anxiety that clings to Genesis like a second skin.

“Hey,” Letitia says quietly, reaching out to intertwine their fingers, her palm providing gentle warmth against Genesis’ almost chronically cold skin.

“Hey,” Genesis mirrors her, voice a little raspy, tinged with the remnants of sleep.

Together, they navigate the throngs of passengers, moving in silent harmony towards the assigned baggage claim, the carousel churning out suitcases in a rhythmic clunk. And Genesis watches as Letitia grabs hers with easy grace, seemingly a contrast to the tension she feels in her own limbs, happy she only traveled with her crossbody bag.

Suddenly, a whistle, sharp and clear, cuts through the murmurs around them and Genesis’ head turns instinctively towards the sound, her heart recognizing it before her mind even can, her eyes instantly falling on the form that made it.

Julian, a head above the crowd, his dreadlocks a cascade over his shoulders, his smile seeming to reach his eyes, igniting a furry of emotions within Genesis, a mixture of joy, nostalgia, and an unspoken trepidation.

“Gen!” He calls out her name and the sound brings with it a flood of memories. Sun-drenched afternoons and the smell of rain hitting the earth.

“Julian…” She breathes out, her voice quiet, yet there’s the smallest smile forming on her lips.

His arms wrap around her easily, his six foot frame towering over Genesis’ five-four one, an invitation back to the days of their youth where a hug would fix all the scrapes on knees and hearts alike. The familiarity of the embrace envelopes Genesis like a blanket, the kind of hug that doesn’t shy away from the past.

“God, I’ve missed you.” Julian murmurs, his voice a low rumble that reverberates through their joined bodies, and Genesis breathes in the scent that’s unmistakably Julian, the faint trace of sandalwood and the crispness of open air that always seems to cling to him.

They pull away slowly, reluctance threaded in Julian’s movements, his hands lingering on her shoulders for a moment longer, eyes searching her green ones, for the friend he knew, the one that climbed trees to their highest branch and dreamt as big as the sky.

“Yuh alright?”

“I think so…” Genesis nods, voice steady, and Julian can’t help but chuckle, pulling back fully now. And in that moment, she feels Letitia’s hand take hers again, a gentle squeeze felt, and Julian notices the subtle entwining, looking between them before his eyes fall on their hands.

“Letitia, yeah?” He questions, looking at her with a slightly narrowed expression. Letitia nods, extending a hand to his, feeling his tight grip as he shakes. “Nice to see you again.”

“You too.” Letitia replies, voice steady.

With the luggage secured and the hustle of the airport now behind them after walking out, Genesis and Letitia stand on the curb, the cool London air wrapping around them. Julian, having gone to retrieve the car, pulls up on their place by the sidewalk, his presence a reminder of the incoming departure.

“I always dreaded this part.” Genesis looks at Letitia, eyes softening as she remembers back to the moments of goodbyes between them, after months together for filming and press.

“Only for the night. Tomorrow we can grab coffee or tea at that little place you love. What is it… Exmouth Coffee?”

“You remembered?” Genesis cant stop the smile from appearing on her lips. She maybe only mentioned that fact once, at least five years ago now.

“Of course,” Letitia says, a playful rebuke in her tone. “I remember everything when it comes to you.”

And they move closer, a hug enveloping them with a deep warmth, one that fills Genesis’ heart, and Letitia’s whisper fills her ear.

“Nine tomorrow? Meet you there?”

Genesis nods as they pull away, but not too far, pressing a soft peck against Letitia’s lips before they finally step apart fully, Letitia opening the passenger side door for her before closing it again, leaning down to look at Julian through the window.

“Take care of her, yeah?”

“Always.” Julian nods with reassurance from the driver’s seat, and she straightens, about to step back, when she hears his voice again. “Oh, and Letitia?”

Her eyes meet his in curious question.

“Thank you for bringing her home.”

A warmth fills Letitia’s heart, nodding, sharing one last glance with Genesis, the finality of the moment hanging heavy in the air before she finally steps back onto the curb, watching as Julian pulls away, soon disappearing around the corner.

The ride to Tottenham is shrouded in the kind of silence that allows the soul to speak. She sits there, her gaze fixed on the world racing by the window as the city transitions from the polished streets of London to the more rugged, lived-in spaces of Tottenham. She always thought of Tottenham as London’s Trench Town, in ways, those who grew up normally try and get out.

Letitia did… but Genesis isn’t there yet.

Yet, Chronixx’s soulful voice plays through the speakers, the lyrics of his version of “Smile Jamaica”, a balm to the scenes she sees. The soft hum of the music is a reminder of Jamaica, of the days spent looking for peace within herself.

As Julian’s car turns onto their street, the familiarity of the terraced apartments, each baring scars and stories of so many generations, cause Genesis’ heartbeat to pick up, just slightly. Soon, Julian parks and the engine’s cessation marks their arrival, but they just sit for a moment, neither of them making a move to leave, letting the silence between them stretch comfortably.

“Yuh sure you okay?” Julian questions quietly, finally, his voice soft, yet carrying in the small space of the car.

“Yeah.” Genesis’ reply is simple, only a short pause from the question, turning her head to offer a sheepish, closed-lipped, smile.

She then steps out of the car first, the night air flowing against her and Julian follows, leading her up to the door before unlocking it with his key and letting her in.

Ziggy was there to greet them as they enter, his presence almost a larger-than-life force in the modest entry-way. His dreadlocks are tucked into a natural toned beanie, almost framing his head, and his eyes light up when he sees Genesis.

“Gen,” He smiles gently, his arms already open for a hug.

“Zig…” Genesis replies, mustering a small smile as she walks into his embrace, his hug enveloping her easily.

They stay like that for a moment, no words said, just remaining the same, but eventually Ziggy pulls back and he steps out the way for Genesis to get to the stairs, watching as she walks past and she hears his voice say something about going out tonight, though she’s not sure if it’s directed towards her or Julian, or both, but she just keeps walking up.

Her room sits at the sharp turn right from the stairs, finding her door creaked open, and she pushes on it to reveal the chaos that awaits her. She takes in a sharp breath as she steps in, standing in the middle of the mess as she looks around, rubbing the back of her neck in annoyance with herself as she remembers the events coming back to her mind.

She was mad, pissed. She remembers turning to go walk out the room before her anger just took over, slamming her hands into the closet on her right before slamming her shoulder into it and turning to walk back into the middle of the room.

She remembers pulling down the curtains and blinds, the ones that still aren’t there, and she remembers grabbing the broom, because she was using it earlier that day to actually clean, and she just started hitting it into the window, intent on breaking it. When it wasn’t working she swung it like a bat and broke off the tail-end, but she kept going until she did manage to break the window, leaving broken glass all over her carpet.

She threw so much stuff after that, leaving it haphazardly on the floor before turning and kicking at the wall because she was still so uncontrollably mad. She had raised her leg like during knee-ups and just shoved her foot down, stumbling back slightly after the impact, but that didn’t stop her, not even when she paced a little, she continued to kick the same place repeatedly until there was a shoe sized hole there.

And that’s when she dropped to the floor, knees to her chest as she sat against her bed, arms leaning on her knees as her head dropped into her hands, and she broke down into tears, sobbing.

“We repaired the window and the wall.”

Genesis jumps, her heart skipping a beat literally as she’s harshly pulled from her memories, whirling around to find Ragga in the doorway, his presence as grounding as earth itself. He’s always had a way of moving silently, a gentle giant with eyes that seem to see through everyone’s soul.

“Me and Junior…” He continues as Genesis’ hand goes to her heart, taking in a deep breath that almost hurts, and she can’t help but chuckle slightly, turning and looking towards both objects, finding them surely fixed.

“Thank you…” She says after a moment, her voice quiet, carrying the vulnerability she normally doesn’t show out to the world.

“We’re family, Gen. We look out for each other, yeah?”

Genesis gives him a nod of understanding, watching as Ragga leaves, heading towards the stairs and Genesis turns back to the mess, glancing around the space once more, taking in all of her past before starting to clean up.

It’s not until close to midnight that things are back in place, organized, or thrown away. And exhausted from the journey and the emotional toll of the day, Genesis lets herself fall backwards onto her bed. The ceiling above is a blank canvas, stark and unyielding in its simplicity, so different from the complex tapestry of her mind. For a moment, she just lays there, breathing deeply with her eyes closed, grounding, feeling the rise and fall of her chest and listening to the hush of her room.

But soon she opens her eyes, turning her head to the right, her gaze settles on a picture that’s frame is propped up against the soft glow of her crystal lamp. The photograph— black and white, its edges worn from touch before she was able to frame it— is of a man with a joyous smile, dreads tucked under a knit beanie that lays very loosely on his head. His eyes are crinkled with genuine delight as he holds a baby close to his chest. The infant, secured in the safety of her father’s embrace, is oblivious to the depth of the moment now captured forever in time.

And Genesis whispers, a greeting that carries weight of years passed and words unspoken.

“Hi, Baba.”

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

It’s grey and windy in London, as Genesis makes her way to Exmouth Coffee. The city’s waking, the air filled with the familiar cacophony of distant traffic and the talkings from early risers. The smell of coffee from the coffee shops that seem to litter every corner fill her nose, mingling with the city’s exhaust, an urban scene that Genesis has come to associate as home.

As she nears her destination, her pace slows just a little, allowing her to take in the sights and sounds of the city more. It’s so different to her now, how she sees it.

Her eyes also catch sight of Letitia waiting ahead, her silhouette unmistakable against the classical facade of the cafe. Dressed casual, she seems absorbed in her phone, a thumb moving swiftly across her screen, but the soft sound of Genesis’ footsteps on the pavement reach her ears and she looks up, her expression softening, eyes lighting up with a gentle smile.

“Morning.” Letitia murmurs as Genesis gets close, their greeting culminating in a small, affectionate, peck of lips that feel like the final piece of Genesis’ morning clicking into place.

“Morning.” Genesis repeats, her voice low but infused with warmth.

They head inside, the air thick with the aroma of roasted coffee beans and sweet pastries. They both order hot chocolate, rich and decadent, a comforting switch from the usual morning caffeine, though Genesis has never been a coffee person at all.

Sitting at a small, intimate, table, their hot chocolates steam before them as Genesis recounts the previous evening, the homecoming. Letitia listens intently, her hand over Genesis’, offering silent comfort with a gentle rub of her thumb against Genesis’ wrist.

“…I don’t know, it just felt… different.” Genesis continues, her gaze flickering to their intertwined hands.

“A lot’s changed,” Letitia nods slightly, offering the smallest closed-lipped smile.

Genesis nods, a silent agreement, eyes moving to her untouched hot chocolate, a little steam still coming off of it, by surely drinkable by now. Yet, she doesn’t take a sip. And after a moment, Letitia’s grip on Genesis’ hand tightens slightly.

“There’s something I need to ask you.” Letitia begins tentatively, breaking the silence.

Genesis meets Letitia’s gaze, her brows furrowing slightly in curiosity.

“Would you want to come to Portugal with me?”

Genesis’ eyebrows furrow even more at her question, at the randomness of it. She doesn’t understand why she would have to be there, but before she can question it, Letitia continues.

“It’s only for a couple days with a few friends.” Letitia’s voice is hesitant, a touch quieter now. “And… Fidji’s going to be-“

“Your ex?” Genesis cuts her off in question.

“Yes, but-“

“I and I…” Genesis mutters, hanging her head slightly in annoyance, causing Letitia to lean closer.

“Hey, hey, hey, it’s not like that, I promise. This trip was planned months before.” Letitia attempts to plead her case quickly, keeping her tone as calm as possible. “I just… need you there, Gens.”

Letitia’s thumb had paused in its motion, her hand now squeezing Genesis’ gently and Genesis lifts her head, eyes searching Letitia’s worried expression, searching her eyes, looking at her.

She takes a deep breath after a moment, heavy, the weight of the decision weighing down on her chest, yet she still trusts Letitia, just enough.

“I’ll go with you.” Genesis says quietly, but firm, watching as Letitia’s face lights up. “But, to make sure yuh head stays on straight.”

“Nothing about me is straight.” Letitia murmurs in a playful tone, causing Genesis to playfully roll her eyes as Letitia chuckles giddily at herself before Genesis looks to her phone, a reminder that she has therapy in half an hour.

“‘Ight… I gotta go.” Genesis pushes herself up, her and Letitia’s hands finally separating as she grabs her hot chocolate, already in a to-go cup, slinging her bag back across her body. “See you tomorrow, yeah?”

Letitia catches the reluctance in Genesis’ voice and there’s a pang of sadness in her heart, a mixture of her overthinking their conversation and the overall emotion of not wanting Genesis to leave so soon. But she nods, and Genesis leans down slightly, kissing the top of Letitia’s head, on her cornrows before she moves towards the door, and Letitia’s head turns, watching her as she walks outside, turning right, heading opposite of Letitia’s position, the cold air greeting her quickly.

The days leading up to the trip slipped by like sand through an hourglass, each grain a moment of contemplation. Genesis stands before her open crossbody bag, its contents sparse but essential. She’s never been one to overpack, not that she’s ever had too much to work with, a few items of clothing, necessary toiletries, her sketchbook, and her camera.

As the day of departure dawns bright and early, still a grey sky filling the expanse, Genesis feels a flutter of nerves as she walks into the busy airport. Letitia had texted her the meeting point, past security, and after an hour of slow lines, she’s finally able to walk towards the space, her eyes landing on the familiar figure quickly.

Letitia’s presence is a beacon, her excitement palpable even from a distance with a big smile, and as their eyes meet, her eyes light up even more as she quickly closes the gap between them, hugging her tightly.

“I missed you.” Letitia whispers, words muffled by Genesis’ shoulder.

“You just saw me.”

But Letitia just shakes her head and they hold each other a moment longer before Letitia pulls back, taking Genesis’ hand gently, intertwining their fingers, and leading her to where the rest of the group sits, a small circle of mostly unfamiliar faces, yet Letitia doesn’t push any introductions or small talk, just leading Genesis to sit, staying close, her world seemingly shrinking to just the two of them.

The whispers they exchange are soft and intimate, gentle musings, reminiscent of actors sharing a secret joke between takes, a moment of genuine connection in midst of a scripted world. Letitia’s laughter is quiet, a sound that seems reserved just for Genesis in this last week together, her eyes crinkling with genuine happiness. Their shoulders brush together occasionally, a subtle contact that speaks of a mutual desire to remain connected.

And Genesis leans in closer, just a little, her face the same as it was when she arrived, calm, collected, yet her whisper brings a small knowing smile to Letitia’s lips. It’s a dance of dialogue, tender and loving.

Across from them, Fidji observes the scene unfold. The quiet exchanges don’t escape her notice, nor does the gentle way Genesis’ fingers reach up to gently run against Letitia’s cornrows. There’s a familiarity in these gestures, a language of touch and glance that speaks volumes.

Fidji’s glance is sharp, analytical, as if she’s trying to read this new and sudden dynamic. The way Letitia’s head tilts towards Genesis, the soft glow in her eyes. It wasn’t like that when Fidji was the one on her left side. Her lips press into a thin line, and she takes a slow sip of her drink, ice clinking against the glass like a punctuation to her unspoken thoughts. There’s an unmistakeable hint of distaste in her expression that reveals more than any words can, and she looks away before either of them notice, looking back to her sisters as they still continue to converse.

The boarding call for their flight eventually breaks the cocoon around Genesis and Letitia, the group gathering their belongings, the transition from the lounge shifting the energy surrounding them. Letitia stands, her hand slipping into Genesis’ with ease once more.

They join the line, the group’s dynamic subtly shifting at the reality of the departure setting in. Letitia’s hand gently squeezes Genesis’ as she leans in close to her ear, whispering.

“You okay?”

Genesis only nods and soon they finally cross the threshold into the bridge, the tight space bringing them even closer together, their quiet whispers seeming to funnel back to them, a reflection of their words and Letitia’s laughter remains quiet but heartfelt, an affectionate sound that seeps into Genesis’ heart.

Fidji walks several paces ahead, her posture perfect and stride confident, yet there’s a tightness around her eyes, acutely aware of Genesis and Letitia’s closeness from behind her. But she doesn’t look back, her grip on her boarding pass tightening, betraying her seemingly cool exterior, but they don’t notice.

The group files onto the plane, the seats of first-class wide and inviting, something Genesis has never experienced, a promise of comfort and isolation away from others.

They find their seats, beside one another, sinking into them, and Genesis looks around at all that’s available in this small space, and her eyes fall to Letitia, who gives her an almost teasing smile. But Genesis just slowly raises the cover between them, chuckling at Letitia’s playfully offended voice, before stopping, lowering it again, only doing it originally to mess with her.

As the plane eventually begins to taxi, Genesis slouches back in her seat, head resting back, allowing the engine to be her lullaby as her eyes start to fall closed, body still recovering from jet lag, and everything around her fades into darkness.

Suddenly, she sees the expansive field in Guyana, in the distance a fire roaring, casting the sky in an ominous glow. Yet, there’s nothing more.

But a single sound pierces through— the hum. A melody that seems to emerge from the very depths of her mind, the sound leaving the same effect it always does.

It’s a tune laden with emotion and history, yet she still doesn’t recognize it, she doesn’t see it as a thread connecting her to her past, calling to her. It’s just simply there, a calming vibration in the expanse of her subconscious, pulling her gently, leading her deeper in sleep.

As Genesis fades further into the dream, the landscape of which she sees begins to dissolve into shadow and the hum becomes everything, a soothing lullaby carrying her away and into the darkness. And soon, there’s only stillness.

Just the hum and the dark

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Morning in Lisbon greets Genesis with a subtle shift, one she been observing silently since the night prior, Letitia’s generosity in paying for the suite, now seemingly fostering a sense of entitlement among the sisters, the ease in which they take her kindness as due.

They spent the morning exploring the city’s streets, walking as a group, but Letitia, who was a constant at Genesis’ side the day before, now moves with fluidity ahead, and Genesis’ eyes are on her back as she walks slightly behind Fidji, talking with her quietly and Genesis hears her laugh.

She lags behind, letting the distance grow, a small experiment to test if her absence from the constellation is noticed. But the movement and conversation just continues to move forward without pause, laughter and playful musings rising over the quiet-ish streets.

And Genesis only sighs, maintaining her pace as the pieces in her mind start to connect.

As the day trails on, Genesis notices the same things over and over, Letitia’s personality shifting to a person she’s not even sure she recognizes. It’s been her fear since that night in Milan, maybe even a little before that, and she knew she was going to have to keep an eye on it, and it’s what she expected.

They’re at a club in the night, a little separation in the group, maybe needed. Letitia and her friends are kind of gathered, drinking wine or whatever thing of alcohol is desired at the time, but Genesis remains in her quiet corner.

Letitia’s gaze lingers on Genesis from across the room, watching as she’s engaged in easy conversation with a girl who’s a stranger to them both. There’s an unmistakable tightness that grips Letitia’s heart, an unbidden discomfort at the sight of Genesis’ gentle laughter, even tentative, being shared with someone else. When the girl departs, leaving Genesis in her peace against the wall, Letitia feels the pull towards her, discarding her half-finished drink on the bar, weaving through the crowd towards Genesis.

“Who was that?” Letitia questions, standing close enough now to notice the subtle shift in Genesis’ demeanor.

“Nobody you need to be worried of,” Genesis replies, her voice light, almost teasing, chuckling slightly as she relaxes further against the cool wall.

“And you’re laughing?” Letitia can’t help but add, the tightness in her chest now manifesting in her words.

A beat of silence falls between them, heavy with unspoken thoughts, and Genesis pushes off from the wall and edged toward the exit after a moment.

“I need some air.” She mutters, eyes remaining away from Letitia and heading outside. Yet, she doesn’t get far before she hears Letitia’s footsteps behind her, followed by her voice.

“Where are you going?” Letitia asks, following after her quickly, yet Genesis continues forward. But Letitia soon catches her, moving her body in front of hers, blocking her path.

“Move!” She calls out to her, but Letitia doesn’t budge, and Genesis pushes her back lightly, freezing in her steps. “Move, Tish!”

The reaction causes for Letitia to look at her, eyebrows slightly furrowed towards her, but Genesis’ expression is firm.

“Why you acting like some jealous teenage boy? Now you notice me, eh?”

“You think things changed suddenly? To make you go do that?” She motions to the club.

“Some things definitely changed.” Genesis says bitterly, eyes remaining on Letitia’s. “Whenever you used to do all this, the parties, the clubs, go with all types of people from who knows where doing who knows what. I know why yuh friends leave-“

“They left cause them didn’t like the life.” Letitia’s very adamant, speaking with her hands, but Genesis shakes her head. “What do you want me to do? Just suffer and suffer-“

“We are suffering, I done suffer and you didn’t even know!“ Genesis raises her voice. “Yuh used to come and go, I had to watch you with all those women-“

“And you’re any different?”

In that moment, a sound falls off of Genesis’ lips, a slight sucking sound, audible of distaste and annoyance as she attempts to walk past her again, only to have her bicep grabbed and Genesis swings, her hand coming into contact with Letitia’s cheek, the sound not too harsh, but audible enough to turn Letitia’s head, her hand flying to her cheek as she turns her head back towards her, yet it’s not from pain, but from the surprise of Genesis’ action. A rare break in her always steady composure both of them staring at each other in the tension.

“Who really care for you, Tish? Your ‘friends’… spending all your money, using your likeness…”

In the aftermath of the unexpected contact, a shock runs through both women, an electric current of reality jarring them from the night’s indulgent fantasy.

“You swim in pollution, you get polluted,” Genesis continues, pressing her finger to her chest with conviction, her gesture punctuating her plea. It’s a reminder of their shared values, of conversations that had previously woven the fabric of their bond—conversations about authenticity, integrity, and the seductive danger of losing oneself to a world that takes more than it gives.

Their eyes lock then, two forces of nature caught in a moment of raw honesty. Genesis’ words hanging in the air between them, a stark truth that strips away the veneer of the evening’s glamour.

“We used to talk of this and everything else when you only had a few fancy shirts!” Genesis’s fingers grip the material of Letitia’s jacket, a tactile echo of her words. “It’s time to wake up. Wake up, Tish!”

The air around them is charged with the intensity of the moment. Letitia’s eyes, previously hardened by defensiveness, are now more gentle, the layers of realization and vulnerability blending into a look of awakening. She can see Genesis— not just the woman before her, but the essence of the person she knows, the one who has always dared to speak the truth, no matter how uncomfortable. The one who’s always been there to catch her.

And she can finally see the reality of the life she’s brought onto herself

Increasing overwhelmed and overstimulated, Genesis attempts to pull away, a well of emotions churning inside her, starting to walk off, but Letitia’s instincts kick in quickly. She catches up, reaching out swiftly, her fingers wrapping around Genesis’s forearm, an unspoken plea for her to not react like she did a moment ago. Genesis’ muscles tense in response, her instinct to flee momentarily overwhelming her desire to reconcile, something Letitia can feel.

“Genesis, wait,” Letitia implores, her voice tinged with desperation.

Genesis’s movement doesn’t halt much, though her body language speaks of her inner turmoil. She continues to try and step forward, to extricate herself from the situation, but Letitia isn’t letting her slip away, not now, not like this.

In a fluid motion born out of urgency, Letitia steps closer, her arms encircling Genesis in a firm yet gentle hold.

“I’m sorry,” she repeats, her voice a whisper against the night. “Please.”

Genesis’ natural instinct is to resist, to shake off the hold and find refuge in the quiet streets of Lisbon. She still tries to pull away, her movements born of a reflex to escape confrontation and vulnerability. But Letitia, driven by a sudden clarity of what’s at stake, refuses to let her go again.

“I’m sorry…” Letitia murmurs again, a mantra of reconciliation. “I’m sorry…”

The words reverberate through the small space they occupy, weaving a spell that seems to slow the world around them. Genesis can hear the genuine regret in Letitia’s tone, the vibration of her voice repeating the words over and over in her ear, resonating with a truth that’s impossible to ignore.

And something in Genesis yields, a wall within her crumbling, allowing the sincerity of the moment to seep through the cracks. Her body relaxes against Letitia’s, the fight to pull away diminishing with each shared breath, each whispered word.

In the cocoon of Letitia’s arms, Genesis allows the silence to envelop them, a sanctuary from the night’s earlier chaos, now filled only with the sound of their breathing and the distant melody from the club’s interior.

The embrace becomes their entire world, a haven amidst uncertainty. Letitia’s apologies still continue, even more hushed, hanging in the air, her breath warm on Genesis’s ear, a silent testament to the intensity of the moment.

Genesis soon shifts ever so slightly, her movements delicate but intentional, gently pulling Letitia back enough to see her face, and without a word, Genesis closes the small distance between them, pressing her lips to Letitia’s, shutting up her quiet ramble, grounding her.

The kiss lingers, a slow and gentle mingling that speaks volumes, each soft brush of their lips a reaffirmation of connection and care. And when they finally pull away, there’s a breathless quality to the space between them, as if the air itself is charged with the intensity and tension radiating off of them.

Letitia’s eyes remain closed for a moment longer, savoring the feeling. Genesis’ does as well, brushing a thumb across Letitia’s cheek, tracing the line where her own hand had made contact earlier, erasing any remnants of the night’s earlier tension.

“Don’t lose yourself… yuh hear?” Genesis voices quietly, voice still breathless. “And you do all that again and I’m gone.”

There’s silence between them even as Letitia nods in understanding, relaxing under Genesis’ touch.

Letitia’s eyes flutter open, her gaze looking upon Genesis with a vulnerability that only the raw honesty of love can elicit, the threat hanging in the air between them is a revelation, a crystallizing moment that anchors Letitia to the spot.

They head back to the hotel with fingers entwined, Letitia leading the way to a newly acquired room, a decision made in silent understanding that they need isolation from the sisters, from everything that can intrude on the sanctity of the newfound understanding. She procurers them their own space, a quiet sanctuary where the outside world can be kept at bay, allowing them to be alone with each other and their thoughts.

The room’s dimly lit, the soft glow of bedside lamps casting gentle shadows across the walls, creating a cocoon of warmth and privacy. They lay side by side on the bed, their bodies close but not touching, enveloped in a shared silence that’s as comforting as it is communicative. The tumultuous emotions of the night have given way to a calm understanding, a quiet acknowledgment of the depth of their connection.

As they lay there, the noise of the city seems distant, irrelevant even. The quiet between them, a healing space, a soft fabric woven from threads of tension and tender realization. Letitia soon turns her head to look at Genesis, her eyes conveying the emotions that words can scarcely capture.

“Thank you,” She whispered, her voice barely audible yet clear in the stillness of the room. “Thank you for finding me.”

It’s a simple statement, but laden with meaning—recognition of how Genesis has seen through the facade, has reached past the surface and pulled Letitia back from the brink of losing herself. It’s an acknowledgment of Genesis’s strength, her unwillingness to let Letitia drift away, and her courage in confronting the painful truths.

Genesis turns to face Letitia, their eyes meeting in the semi-darkness, a silent conversation passing between them. She reaches out then, her hand gently brushing Letitia’s cheek once more, a mirror of the earlier gesture that had marked the beginning of their night’s emotional journey.

Her gaze is full of emotion and in the semi-darkness, their eyes lock, communicating more than words ever can. The air around them seems charged with the intensity of their connection, each breath a shared rhythm.

Slowly, almost hesitantly, Genesis leans in, pressing her lips to Letitia’s in a kiss.

And she can feel it. How the woman she knew had returned to her.

#letitia wright #letitia wright fanfic #letitia fanfic #shai’s oc #no woman no cry fic

27 notes · View notes

jcmarchi · 2 months

Text

How AI is Helping Retail Brands Thrive

New Post has been published on https://thedigitalinsider.com/how-ai-is-helping-retail-brands-thrive/

How AI is Helping Retail Brands Thrive

In an era of economic uncertainty, consumer behavior is following suit to become increasingly more elastic. These behaviors are not only more elastic, they’re more contradicting. Consumers are switching to more affordable brand alternatives while spending lavishly on certain goods.

Amidst these unconventional patterns, a couple truths prevail. First: consumers love deals. A recent survey found that two thirds of US consumers seek special offers while shopping. The second: marketers cannot solely rely on traditional means to combat this behavioral chasm set in motion by the economy. To best equip themselves, marketers need to supercharge their strategies with AI.

Addressing shifting consumer behaviors

With the holidays behind us, it’s clear that consumers are still expecting brands to offer promotions. The fact is, consumers expect these deals and they’ve become increasingly important given the economic uncertainty to date.

However, brands cannot completely pull back on promotions if they want to remain competitive. That said, any pullback in promotional activity must be carefully planned, and moving away from promotions entirely presents a significant risk to any brand.

One of the main ways we are seeing brands closely manage the promotional strategy is going back to basics on the main promotional levers: discount penetration and average discount. The amount of the overall assortment that is discounted has continued to decline over the last three years, whereas the discount depth has only declined marginally in that same period. What this tells us is that retailers aren’t pulling away from promotional activity, but instead, they are being more selective as to which products are discounted, and when.

Managing promotions is a highly complex undertaking, and by leveraging AI, marketing and sales teams can get the right content in front of the right customer right at the right time.

But implementing AI is about more than optimizing the pricing strategy. As McKinsey research found, generative AI alone may eventually be responsible for more than $4 trillion in “annual global productivity.” Three-quarters of that productivity will fall to organizations, such as customer operations and marketing and sales. As an industry, retail and CPG may be able to reap half a trillion of that $4 trillion figure.

Automating mundane tasks

Allowing AI to automate management of creative libraries can alleviate some of the pressure marketers face to make fast turnarounds with last-minute creative changes and product swaps. Intelligent library solutions with content analytics can help teams even when they’re not facing a time crunch. With data about how assets are performing, it’s much easier to leave high-performing content in circulation and also quickly identify the low-performing assets back to the drawing board.

More generally, leveraging AI to automate repetitive tasks can free up employees to focus more on mission-critical exercises, such as building customer relationships. The same McKinsey research estimated that generative AI and similar technologies may be able to “automate work activities that absorb 60 to 70 percent of employees’ time today.” And with generative AI now being able to parse natural-sounding human language, this is more of a reality. The report estimates that natural language is required for activities that comprise 25% of work time. Using the time once allotted for these tasks to more critical processes that require a human touch can help further optimize marketing spend.

Meeting customers where they are

According to our research, we found that more than one-quarter of consumers will unsubscribe from emails when personalization is wrong or inaccurate. Most (56%) say that they are overwhelmed by all the communications they receive from brands. While that fact may seem obvious, 58% still say email marketing is the most useful way to evaluate products or make purchase decisions.

However, when looking at peak shopping seasons, we recently found that 90% of marketers are integrating AI into their strategies, expecting AI to offer better predictive insights (44%), enhanced engagement (41%), and more automated content generation (39%).

These contrasting facts pose quite a conundrum to marketers who must toe the line between satiating consumers’ preference for email marketing without getting too many “unsubscribe” requests in return. Instead of flooding customer inboxes with another unread email, the key is to deliver messages as often as customers want to see them and when they’re most likely to engage with that content.

To help answer those variables, AI can help strike this balance for marketers. AI-enabled email marketing tools can provide statistics about email performance and really help teams hone in on the ideal cadence and content to keep customers loyal. And the potential for AI goes well beyond email campaigns.

Intelligent data analytics platforms supercharge analysis of everything from email open rates to purchase history. Algorithms can also hone existing predictive purchase models and even analyze voice searches, a tool most young shoppers use. AI-infused tools can combine robust analytics with automation to create design, messaging, and content of any campaign to reach customers when and where they want to be reached.

Building trust and reliability

Marketers face plenty of stress preparing for various shopping seasons. Consumers do, too. The urge to make the exact right choice without spending too much or missing out on a deal can introduce plenty of anxiety into the shopping experience. Exacerbating this anxiety-inducing task is consumer demands for highly tailored experiences.

Six in ten consumers expect brands to “tailor experiences based on their preferences,” and 90% of marketers say personalization improves profitability. Instead of bombarding customers with generic ads and marketing initiatives, retailers can turn campaigns into thoughtful relationship-building exercises. When people feel as if they’re being spoken to on a human level, they become more likely to trust that brand and continue engaging with it.

AI-enabled tools can access inventory levels and store locations to show consumers that the company is thinking about their needs, specifically, while still providing visibility about more generic promotions. For example, AI can help create an email that retains existing promotion information but fills the rest of the message with personalized offerings. To go a step further marketers can include useful, tailored information, like the nearest in-store pickup locations. This combination keeps major promotions top of mind while demonstrating the personalized, thoughtful touch needed to build loyalty, trust, and an enduring relationship.

Leaning Into Gamification

Brands that gamify their owned channels in a well-designed, intuitive way can enhance purchase intent, continued use of the app and long-term brand loyalty. To streamline gamification, marketers can turn to AI. AI-enabled technology can help create virtual or augmented reality games like scratch-offs or mystery offers that keep customers opening the app and coming back for more, whether it’s the holiday season or not.

Holiday and other seasonal promotions are retailers’ lifeblood. Those pivotal moments can prove to be more of an obstacle than enabler for marketers who must adapt to changing consumer behaviors and marry long-term strategy with short-term trends. It’s a delicate act, and it’s no wonder nearly one-third (27%) of e-commerce marketers believe AI will benefit their email campaigns. AI is a multifaceted tool that can do everything from automate to personalize to analyze, all while allowing the marketing team to focus on what it does best. Marketers who harness the power of AI will see significant growth and customer engagement to build upon the post-purchase journey.

0 notes