#UL awareness training

[4cconsulting-blog]

[lovelyhan]

Hii!! minghao + "oh really?" / "yes, really." / "lying doesn't suit you, sweetheart." from the prompts enemies to lovers? :D

— rush hour ⟢

pairing: minghao x reader

summary: you used to be good friends with the newest dancer in your agency, but your competitiveness gets the better of you when he overtakes your spot as the top performer of the month—for three straight months.

word count: 6.7k words

tags: enemies to lovers, dancer au? unresolved sexual tension, smut

warnings: promiscuous behavior in public, graphic sexual content (minors dni!!)

notes: this . got really REALLY long :D like long enough to have its own header and everything LOL it probably helps that hao has been clawing his way back into my bias line these days, so the brain rot kinda just spilled out,, anyway, thank you sm for sending this in!! i hope you like it :3c

smut tags: porn with some plot ig, public sex, vaginal fingering, exhibitionism, hao is kinky as fuck, dirty talk, degradation

svt taglist: @wonderfulshinee - @misssugarlips - @yourfavoritefreakyhan - @jeanjacketjesus - @just-here-to-read-01 - @hanihans - @venusrae - @taestrwbrry - @minnie-mouser22 - @dreamhannies - @thvhannie - @kkooongie - @gae-uls - @lenireads - @gaebestie - @ryusha-rose - @enhacolor - @ilyvern - @woo8hao - @spk93 - @tommolex

minghao taglist: @zeenanigans - @renjunphile - @pluviophile-xxx

Saying that you hate Xu Minghao is a bit of an overstatement. 

After all, you were the one assigned to show him the ropes when he was accepted into the agency. While you’re no professional mentor, you like to think he was able to rely on you during those first few weeks. He’s been in Seoul for a better part of two years, and although his Korean can already pass as a native’s, you knew he still struggled every now and again. It’s a good thing that verbal communication isn’t direly needed in your line of work.

Minghao was an excellent dancer—one of the best you’ve seen with your own eyes. You once took pride in having a budding prodigy like him as an understudy. Whatever steps or routines you’d ask him to try out and make his own, not only will he deliver, but he’ll blow your expectations out of the water while he’s at it, too. 

It doesn’t help that he knows his own body well enough to channel each movement with passion that makes him look alluring to everyone who dares to watch any of his performances. Minghao isn’t vain or conceited or anything like that, but he’s completely aware of how attractive he is, and that’s a trait that’s further amplified by his dancing. 

You suppose the funniest part about this senior-junior relationship you have with him is how he always asks for your input about his routines. Even if Minghao has long proved that he doesn’t even need a pseudo-mentor like you, he still takes the time to hear out whatever you have to say—eager eyes always shining every time you indulge him with an answer.

Another thing that inevitably brought the two of you closer is the fact that you both take the same train and get off at the same station. Your apartment is in a different neighborhood from his, but you find comfort in the newfound company you’ve been given since Minghao’s arrival. Though he doesn’t talk much outside discussions about work and other dance-related topics, having someone familiar to sit right next to you on the train is more than enough to quell the day’s fatigue.

Your other colleagues sometimes voice out their envious comments jokingly—saying that you’re extremely lucky to have such a hot guy as constant company. Almost always, you respond with a vigorous shake of your head before insisting that things between you and Minghao aren’t at all like that. Besides, you know better than to nurse a romantic relationship between your colleagues. You wouldn’t even let yourself have a crush on any of them. 

What they don’t know, however, is that on very rare occasions when your body feels just a little too heated, and your sheets a few threads too thick, it’s Minghao that flits into your mind as your hesitant fingers reach between your thighs. 

You touch yourself to the thought of him taking you in one of the dance studios. Specifically, in front of the full-stretch mirrors as he fucks you from behind. You imagine him whispering how good you are for him, how you’re taking his cock so, so well. 

Subverting the mere image of the kind man who constantly seeks your validation for his performance has you creaming on your own fingers within minutes, and if you weren’t such a terrible person, you would’ve felt bad for thinking about him in such an obscene light. 

Then again, what Minghao doesn’t know won’t kill him.

His first month in the agency comes and goes like the changing seasons. Next thing you know, it’s time for monthly evaluations again. 

While others would usually dread these assessments, you looked forward to them. You know that they’re less a measure of talent, and more a measure of hard work. Sure, talent could be one of the main driving factors of getting a high score, but you know better than anyone else that talent is nothing if you don’t work hard enough to cultivate it. 

That’s the kind of mindset that always landed you in the top of the rankings for every monthly evaluation.

And it’s the same mindset that puts you immediately beneath Minghao. 

The agency is always prompt with the release of the results. They’d post the typewritten scores next to the dancers’ names in the bulletin board at the ground floor cafeteria for everyone to see two days after the monthly evaluation.

It was a bit of a challenge to squeeze past the other dancers to get a good look at this month’s results—the crowd being more chatty than usual. Your closer friends insisted that you’d be number one as usual, and that you didn’t have to check at all. 

Part of you wants to believe them, but the unsettling feeling that pools in the pit of your stomach doesn’t let you become complacent. It doesn’t help that everyone around you seems like they’re sneaking glances your way—only to look away when you try to catch their gaze. 

When you finally make it to the front of the board, you notice that Minghao is already there—already dressed to kill for today’s sets and routines. His black hair is still damp like he just got out of the shower and rushed straight to work, eyes glued to the bulletin board. You would’ve let your gaze linger a bit longer on his gorgeous face, had it not been for the surprise that awaits you on that single sheet of paper plastered right in front of you.

1. Xu Minghao — 100 points

Your vision tunnels in, white noise ringing in your ears. 

You could vaguely make out the characters of your name just below Minghao’s, and just a few points from a perfect score. But you didn’t care about that. All you could focus on was the fact that you’ve been kicked out of a spot that’s been yours for as long as you can remember. 

No wonder the others were buzzing amongst themselves, flashing you brief looks before whispering their thoughts on the matter to the nearest willing ear. Not a single soul has ever garnered a hundred fucking points from monthly evaluations. The evaluators cut no corners when it came to assessing their dancers’ level of skill and technique, and seeing how they deigned to give Minghao, a complete newbie, a perfect goddamned score—

“Congratulations, bro!” 

“Minghao, you’re a fucking beast! How long did you even practice?”

“That’s so cool. No one’s ever gotten a perfect hundred before.”

“You’ve gotta tell us the secret, please!”

Like a bunch of bees, the collective of dancers start to crowd Minghao—giving him congratulatory gestures and greetings alike. Your understudy simply gazes at them as if in a daze, but ever-so slowly, a smile cracks through his typically stoic demeanor. 

“Uh, thank you…?”

He’s whisked away to the cafeteria before you can blink, and you can only watch in shocked desolation as they all usher themselves away from the board.

Away from you. 

You don’t miss the way Minghao tries to catch your gaze in the midst of it all, the smile he showcased for everyone to see falling the moment he realized you’re still rooted in place. Yet he doesn’t try to break free from the crowd, nor does he attempt to call your name out loud. 

Not that you have any plans on answering if he did.

It’s only after today’s session has concluded that Minghao manages to pull you to the side for a conversation. You’re already halfway out of the building when he catches you, and you can tell that the sheer euphoria of knowing you came out on top is still humming in his veins. 

It pisses you off.

“Thank you,” he says simply. 

“For what?” You try not to sound too gruff, but the pensiveness in your voice comes out anyway. “Letting you take my spot?”

Minghao’s grin dips into a grimace—mirroring his expression from earlier. “What? I meant to say thank you for showing me the ropes. If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have—hey!”

You’re probably being immature. No, you’re definitely being immature. Instead of accepting Minghao’s gratitude like a normal fucking person, you continue brisk-walking to the building’s entrance without letting him finish. Of course, he chases after you, asking if he did anything wrong or if you’re simply in a bad mood or both. 

You don’t answer him even when he continues pestering you on the way to the train station, and he doesn’t stop despite the lack of responses from your end. It’s beginning to get on your nerves, too, because he was never this goddamn pushy during all those times you went home together. What’s stopping him from being the quiet companion he’s always been?

“Can you just shut the fuck up, Hao?” you end up snapping at him when you finally get off at your shared station—earning yourself a bunch of questioning looks from nearby commuters. “You don’t have to fucking rub it in anymore than you have. I already know the results, okay?!”

“Rubbing what in?” he asks, exasperated. “I’m just asking you what’s wrong because you don’t normally act this way. Is it so bad for me to worry about my friend?”

“Friend?” you echo mirthlessly. “No fucking friend of mine takes away what belongs to me.”

This time, when you storm off, Minghao doesn’t follow you.

Fortunately, that all happened on a Friday. It takes you the entire weekend after that heated encounter at the train station to realize that maybe you went a little overboard with what you said to Minghao. 

As you replay your conversation in your head, you’re filled with a crippling sense of embarrassment. The top spot for monthly evaluations belongs only to the best—you know this better than anyone else. The only reason that the evaluators deemed you as a second placer is because Minghao is that proficient in his dancing. 

You’re one of the people who was able to watch him closest. You’ve seen the work he put into practice firsthand. You even called him a prodigy. 

So why did you make a fool out of yourself by having a meltdown at the fact that you got beaten by someone who obviously worked harder than you did?

Hard work beats talent any day. But Minghao has both honed to perfection. 

If you’re going to reclaim your rightful spot on the top, crying about it is the last thing you should do. You’re going to have to put in double the effort to call yourself worthy.

As expected, Minghao has started to distance himself from you after that spat. You don’t blame him. As much as you wanted to apologize for your behavior that night, you wouldn’t want to remain friends with a sore loser if you were in his shoes. 

But as his second month in the agency breezes past, you notice that, not only has he distanced himself, but he’s become somewhat…hostile.

He treats everyone else the same way since he came in—stoically with a few words of affirmation here and there. You, though? It’s almost like he’s forgotten all about the time you were assigned to look after him. There’s always this cockiness lingering in his eyes that grates at your nerves more than you thought it would. He’d throw you haughty glances whenever he catches you flubbing some parts of the choreography from the corner of his eye. 

The worst part is that Minghao is more vocal now compared to when he first came in—not seeing any problem with pointing out how you’re starting to slack off during practice. 

“How are you expecting yourself to take back the crown when you’re already breathless after such a simple routine?” he gloats when he catches you lingering by the water fountain, lips curved into a smirk.

You glare at him while you take a sip from your water bottle. “Fuck you. I’ve been rehearsing all fucking day. Who wouldn’t be tired?”

“People who rank first in monthly evals,” he says boredly. “Oh, but you wouldn’t know about that, now would you? At least, not anymore.”

You’re so fucking close to tearing his face off with your own fingernails that you’re slightly grateful that Minghao gets called back onto the dancefloor to polish his group’s routine. Minghao’s constitution changes in a flash—that arrogant look he reserves for you alone making way for his usual aloof expression while he makes his way back. 

He always looks cool and amicable to others, but when no one’s looking he makes sure you catch the patronizing tilt of his lips whenever he pulls off some high level choreography with zero mistakes. As if to remind you that you’re never going to take back what he stole from you. Not in a million years. 

Okay. Maybe you do hate Xu Minghao. 

You hate him a fucking lot.

…

Minghao proves that the results he reaped from his first month in the agency are no fluke.

For three consecutive months, you’re forced to stand in front of the cafeteria’s bulletin board with his name plastered on the very top. If you hadn’t known better, you would’ve thought that the evaluators were only editing the month indicated on top of the sheet with how stagnant the results always are. 

The agency’s rising star consistently comes out on top with little to no effort, while you’re desperately clawing your way back to glory at second place. 

You didn’t know what the fucking deal was. You worked your ass off twenty four-seven. Even if you weren’t in the studio, you made sure to study all sorts of routines and choreographies so your body would remember the movements deep into your bones. 

But then you remember that even if hard work beats talent, you can never beat a man who has both at his disposal.

You’re at your wits’ end at this point—so close to giving up on the title you thought would always belong to you. Your evasive behavior did you no favors in maintaining a good reputation among your colleagues either. If you listened to their hushed conversations closely enough, you’d catch them saying how pathetic you’re being. Ostracizing yourself all because you’re insecure that your understudy became your adversary. 

The only reason you hate what they’re saying about you behind your back is because all of it is true.

Your usual group of friends doesn’t sit with you at your usual table at the cafeteria anymore, but you don’t really mind that—learning this late into your career that silence can be more beneficial than it seems. But every time you see Minghao laughing at a joke told by one of your colleagues, you can’t help but feel that familiar bite of resentment you’ve come to associate with everything he does.

If only he didn’t overtake you during his first goddamn month here. If only he wasn’t the one assigned to be your understudy. Maybe the blow to your pride wouldn’t have been this bad. Maybe you wouldn’t be licking your wounds in your loneliness. 

Maybe you wouldn’t have lost a friend you actually liked having around.

…

With an upcoming dance competition, it’s no surprise that the dancers at your agency often stay behind to polish their performances to perfection. Usually, practices would adjourn hours before the sun even sets, but these days, you find yourself exiting the building no earlier than nine PM. 

The excessive practice time has been taking a toll on you—this much you know. Your muscles have been sore for days, and no amount of painkillers and Salonpas can easily cure your affliction right away. So for tonight, you decide to take it easy—packing up once the clock hits six o’clock. The last thing you want is to accidentally pull something you shouldn’t, thus rendering your participation in the competition null and void.

But as you walk towards the train station, you realize that perhaps staying later was a smarter move after all. All around you, commuters of all ages and walks of life brush past you in their haste—the need to arrive home as soon as possible like a cloud on everybody’s heads. The closer you got to the station, the more it dawned on you.

It’s fucking rush hour.

You’ve always avoided going home during this time for two reasons. The first is the influx of commuters that’s literally and figuratively too suffocating to deal with, especially when your physical constitution isn’t in the best shape. 

The second is…because you noticed that, ever since your platonic breakup, Minghao has started leaving the studio at this hour. Later than your previous commutes home, but earlier than your new work-yourself-to-the-bone schedule. Sure, he’s still the biggest fucking prick to walk the earth whenever he feels like taunting you during practice, but he doesn’t seem interested in working overtime. 

If you’re being completely honest, you’re over the monthly evaluation results. Honest! You’ve just come to accept that nothing is ever set in stone.

Things change all the time. Humans used to believe the earth was flat. The Athenians once thought of Plato’s bullshit as the gospel truth, and—

You dared to assume you’ll be on top of the world forever.

What happened months ago was a reality check, and slowly but surely, you’re relearning the difference between ambitious and obnoxious. It’s a humbling experience that you’re honestly grateful for happening because…if it weren’t for that harsh reminder that there’ll always be someone out there who’s better than you, then you wouldn’t strive to improve at all.

You let out a quaint sigh when you settle into the train. As expected, tonight’s commuters have filled it out to complete capacity, and you wouldn’t have caught the last available space near the doors if you hadn't sprinted like a madman. Though your aching muscles practically scream in complaint, you comfort yourself with the promise of a long soak in your bathtub the moment you get home.

The smooth tone of the announcer’s voice rings from the overhead speakers, telling all passengers to step away from the doors, as the train is about to leave. Not that any of you can help it. You’re all packed like sardines in what’s usually a pretty spacious train car if you came in just an hour earlier or later. 

All of a sudden, you find yourself missing those days where you’d sit on the side where you could see the sunset breezing past the windows—listening to the stories of someone you can’t even hold a civilized conversation with anymore. But before that train of thought can progress any further, you shake your head as if the mere gesture alone can dispel your longing.

You try to press yourself back to avoid getting crushed by the automatic doors, muttering a quiet apology to the person behind you since you ended up subsequently squeezing him further into the crowd of cramped passengers. When the doors finally close, you hear him say a quick it’s okay, back at you, you’re forced to whip around in the limited space with your mouth agape.

Right behind you is Xu Minghao, looking just as distressed as you are.

He’s changed out of his usual practice clothes—having exchanged it for an oversized crewneck and sweats. His expensive headphones hang unused around his neck, and you wonder if you wouldn’t have noticed each other if only he was blasting music directly into his ears…

The urge to take back your courteous apology is strong, but you would much rather not give him any more of your energy than you already have. You’d take all his insults and badmouthing head-on in the studio, but it’s been a really long day, and you don’t have enough fire going to extend his hostility inside a crowded train in the middle of rush hour. 

“Why’re you out so early?”

You can feel gooseflesh prickle the skin of your shoulders when you feel Minghao’s breath next to your ear. A glare settles between your eyes as you jolt away from him in the limited space that affords you to do so. 

“Watch it, asshole. You’re way too close for comfort,” you hiss. “And the time I go home is none of your business.”

Minghao shrugs. “I dunno, you always stay late to practice. Is it so bad to be curious?”

“Yeah, because if it hasn’t occurred to you yet, I actually hate your guts, and I don’t appreciate you talking to me like we’re friends.”

He falls silent for a moment, and in the next moment the train lurches into motion—nearly catching you off balance. You’re quick to brace a hand against the door, but you startle again when you feel a large hand around your arm, touching you in a way that’s meant to steady. You spare Minghao another glance, but there’s less vitriol laced in your gaze and more confusion.

“Are we…” he whispers, gaze shied away from yours as he maintains a steady grip on your arm. Then, he gulps. “Are we not friends anymore?”

Again, you scowl. 

Is he being real with you right now?

“Dude, I am completely over the monthly evaluations if you think that’s the reason I’m being the way I am with you,” you hiss. “I was going to apologize after I said all that hurtful stuff in the past. But then you went ahead and started writing your very own villain arc. So, ask yourself: were you even my friend at all, Hao?”

The sound of that nickname making its way past your lips is familiar yet foreign at the same time. During these past few months, you’ve never once called Minghao anything else but asshole, dick, jerk, self-centered punk, and other variations of those words. You don’t want to admit it, but calling him by something that’s close to an endearment makes you feel like there’s cotton sticking to the roof of your mouth. 

Minghao doesn’t respond yet again, and you force yourself to face forward—leaning your head against the glass of the door so you wouldn’t have to look back at him anymore. You’re pretty sure the salaryman right next to you has been eavesdropping on your conversation this entire time, but it’s not like he has any other choice given the circumstances. 

You let the constant whir of the train engine lull you into a calmer disposition, heartbeat finally equalizing after everything you just shot at Minghao. That’s probably the most you’ve said to him all month, and to say that you’re not the least bit embarrassed about how you admitted wanting to apologize for a past transgression is a blatant lie. 

But what’s done is done. You’re just going to have to accept the fact that the man you once thought of as a good friend; the same man who’s now the main antagonist of your life and career, is standing behind you in your rush hour commute. Just twenty minutes more, and he’ll be out of your hair soon. 

Much to your delight, Minghao keeps his mouth shut until the train pulls over at the next station. The doors open with a mechanical ding, accompanied by the announcer's voice yet again. You’ve heard the monologue thousands of times, but you don’t quite hear it over the throng of passengers rushing to get off the train. 

You make way for them by scooting towards the back of the car, and Minghao does the same. But instead of shuffling away from you the moment there’s more room to move around like you thought he would, he lingers closely to your form. 

However, the amount of people that got off on this station is quickly replenished by a new horde of passengers—quickly filling in the space you thought would last for at least a few more stations. Once again, you find yourself slowly being squeezed closer to the corner of the car, but for some reason, Minghao wedges himself between you and the unassuming college boy whose wireless earphones are plugged in as he scrolls through his phone. 

When you realize what he’s trying to do, you say, “You don’t have to protect me or anything. I’m fine on my own.”

Minghao rolls his eyes. “You obviously didn’t see how you looked like you’re about to get crushed. Just thank me and we’re good.”

A biting retort is already resting on your tongue with how passive-aggressive that response of his sounds like. What the hell is his problem? It’s not like you asked for him to shield you from the other passengers. 

And yet…

“Thanks, I guess.”

You watch him visibly stiffen at your words, and you feel your heart slamming into your ribcage the moment you utter them. Did you really just thank the same man who’s been making your life at work a living hell for months?

The train starts to pick up speed again before you can answer that yourself.

You practically glare at the corner you’ve been forced into the entire trip to the next station. Minghao is right behind you, but you can’t be assed to worry about that when you’re chewing your lip out of frustration. Part of you feels relieved that you swallowed your pride and thanked him, but the part that’s been receiving the brunt of his antagonism for the past half year hisses in disagreement.

He’s an asshole. He’s a self-centered prick that uses people as stepping stones. He’s—

“...Sorry.”

You refuse to turn around. You refuse to believe that he’s actually—

“I’m sorry for being a jerk to you,” Minghao murmurs, and you feel his fingers graze your shoulder as if to emphasize the words with the sincerity of his touch. “I just… I didn’t know how to act when you lashed out at me back then. Y-You were my only friend, and I thought you’d be proud that I achieved something after working so hard for an entire month.”

You’re at a loss for words, completely stunned by the honesty in his voice. You’ve only known Minghao for a short while—been on good terms with him for even shorter—but you can always tell whenever he’s lying. 

This is not one of those times.

“A…friend of mine told me that I tend to act based on how I’m treated,” he continues. “I know that doesn’t excuse how I’ve been acting around you for so long, but… I guess when I got the hint that you hated me, the only way I could cope with that is to hate you right back. Even if I really didn’t.”

No. This isn't real. You’re dreaming. This is probably a side-effect from all those late hours you’ve spent in the studio—

You let out a soft squeak when you feel him rest his forehead against the back of your head, sighing so deeply, it makes you wonder how long he’s been thinking about apologizing properly. Minghao grips your arms again, not to help maintain your balance, but more to anchor himself onto his own. 

“I don’t care if everyone else in the studio looks at me like I’m some sort of god on the dancefloor,” he admits, voice so quiet, you could barely hear him. “The only person I’d want to look at me is you.” 

Your breath hitches, and you’re sure he hears it. 

“Can we please go back to normal again?” Minghao pleads. “I miss hearing your comments about my dances. I miss going home together.

“I miss you.”

The sincerity in his voice singes through you like a red-hot iron poker. You don’t know what to say, what to feel. All you can focus on is the stuttering breaths Minghao takes from behind you. 

If you’ve ever imagined reconciling with him, this certainly isn’t the most optimal venue. But now that he’s bared his defenses, you don’t see any benefit to keeping up your own.

“I’m…sorry and I missed you, too,” you admit somewhat sheepishly, thanking the higher deities up there that he can’t see the way your blood rushes to your cheeks. “But I don’t really know how to—”

Your sentence is cut off mid-way when the train abruptly runs into a bump on the tracks, forcing Minghao’s body against yours when he momentarily loses his footing. It’s an accident, and you wouldn’t have minded since some turbulence in this part of the city isn't rare at all. But that split second where Minghao got thrown against you from the impact made you all too cognizant of how thin the material of both your skirt and his sweatpants are.

“Sorry, sorry,” Minghao sighs before bracing an arm towards one of the walls to your left. The rustle of his clothes gives rise to the scent of his cologne wafting to your nostrils—a fresh, not-too-musky aroma that makes your head spin despite.

Just your luck, the train pitches to the side and you feel Minghao’s groin brush against your ass once again. This time, you’re not strong enough to hold down the soft whimper that tumbles out of your lips, and you don’t even feel ashamed about it.

Suddenly, you remember a time from back then where you’d spend your nights getting off to the same man who’s unknowingly sparking your arousal in the unlikeliest of places. You’ve once fucked yourself to the thought of him, so what’s the use with getting embarrassed now? As long as he doesn’t know, you should be fine.

Except Minghao isn’t deaf, and he definitely picked up on that suggestive little noise you just made.

Experimentally, he lets one of his hands dip lower and lower until his fingertips brush the hem of your skirt. That sinfully short skirt that keeps riding up your thighs every time you do a rather bold move during practice. His eyes are completely trained on you even if you’re still facing the corner, and when he feels you shiver, all the blood in his system rushes down south.

“You’re into this?” Minghao chuckles, bracing his hands on your hips before sliding his growing arousal against the ridge of your ass. “My… I didn’t think mending our friendship again would go this swimmingly. How about I take you out to dinner first?”

“Hao!” you chastise him with a poisonous look, but from the way you subtly rock your hips in time with his movements, Minghao can tell that dinner is the last thing on your mind right now.

He chuckles softly, keeping one hand steady on your hip while the other dips beneath your skirt again. When his fingers immediately press down against the gusset of your underwear, Minghao has to bite down a groan because of the wet patch that’s already accumulated at the center. 

“Not only did you ditch your shorts, but you’re already this wet? From a little grinding?” he hisses into your ear. “Needy fucking slut.”

You can’t help the way your pussy clenches at the harsh name he just called you. It’s all so strange. You never once reacted this way whenever he called you a bitch or anything similar, but you suppose when you’ve made amends with a friend you’ve secretly been wanting to fuck since you first laid your eyes on him, there’s no use keeping up any charades.

“Your hatred was all just an act, isn’t it?” he laughs, nudging your underwear to the side so he can get a feel of just how wet you areas you spread your legs to accommodate him. “Do you rile me up on purpose because you can’t deal with the fact that you actually want me?”

"You're delusional," you bite back.

"Oh, really?"

"Yes, really."

Another low laugh rumbles in his chest and you swear you don't get wetter with each hum of it as he presses closer to your ear. "Lying doesn't suit you, sweetheart."

You’re about to answer him when the announcer’s voice rings from the speakers yet again, saying that the next station is approximately five minutes away. This promptly rips you out of your lustful haze as you realize you’re very much still in public, where dozens upon dozens of passengers still share the same car with the both of you. Minghao seems to pick up on your split-second realization, but doesn’t seem fazed by the idea of getting caught doing this in the presence of strangers.

“Lots of passengers are going to get off at the next station, but not a lot are going to get on like the last one,” he whispers before plunging two of his fingers into your sopping cunt without warning. 

You have to physically cover your mouth with your hand to keep yourself from gasping out loud. When you turn to look at Minghao again, eyes ablaze with disbelief, he simply flashes you an evil smile.

“If you want to come on my fingers, do it in five minutes, whore.”

The sensation of his long, slender digits curling inside you forces you to brace yourself against your tiny little corner of that train car. Your skin prickles everywhere as Minghao grinds his half-hard cock against your backside, all while he works between your pussy lips as if he’s thought about it dozens of times before. 

His digits dip in and out of your entrance like he doesn’t know what he wants to do first. Poke and prod at every inch of sensitive flesh there is or fuck you until you’re a moaning mess for everyone to see. Either way, you’re panting all while Minghao maps the expanse of your pussy with his touch alone, and every time those sinful fingers brush against your clit, you jolt in response.

“Shh,” he coos. “Don’t be too obvious, sweetheart. Wouldn’t want the entire train knowing how much of an impatient fucking slut you are—whoring all over my fingers ‘cause you can’t wait to get off the train.”

You involuntarily clench at his filthy words, begrudgingly unearthing a kink you didn’t even know you had. But at the mere mention of the other passengers, you let your eyes frantically pass over those nearby. You don’t know if they’re really preoccupied on their phones or pretending not to notice the act of indecency that’s happening right beneath their noses. The college boy that almost crushed you earlier is still banging his head to whatever song is playing on his phone, and you take that as a sign to let yourself go.

“Now that won’t do,” Minghao tuts before sliding his fingers back inside you, nudging your thighs even further apart before curling his digits just so. “How can you come in five minutes if you’re so distracted?”

“F-Fuck,” you whine as quietly as you can. “Hao, f-feels so good.”

“Yeah?” he laughs softly and your vision goes black for a moment when you feel his thumb graze your clit with just the right pressure. Just how dextrous can he be? “Then focus on my fingers, sweetheart. If you can’t come before the train arrives at the next station, maybe I’ll just go back to hating you tomorrow after all.”

You nearly choke on a moan when he starts to rub your sensitive nub in varying pressures and speeds, nearly robbing you of your ability to speak. “You’re a f-fucking asshole, you know that?”

“You’re a fucking bitch, but see where that got you now?”

It’s almost like you’re hard-wired to rebut everything he says, and you have all those months of shared antagonism to thank for it. But when Minghao crooks his fingers at a slightly different angle, your already sore legs nearly give out when his fingers hit you deep enough to make stars dance in the seams of your vision.

“Oh?” He sounds so smug, you actually want to hit him. “There it is.”

You can hardly believe it. You can barely find your own g-spot even on good days if you don’t put your back into using your toys right, yet Minghao got it in less than five minutes, inside a train full of passengers, no less?

Your brain has all but fizzled out when the pads of his fingers start to massage that sweet, sweet spot inside of you again—milking your body for all those lovely reactions you’re so willing to give to him. Minghao’s cock is an ever-present weight against your ass, but this isn’t about him. It’s about you, and how badly he wants to feel you come apart on his fingers right here, right now.

“You liked being fingered on the train, sweetheart?” Minghao rasps into your ear, relentless in his movements as tears start to line your lashes. “Like it when you supposedly hate the man that’s doing this to you? That’s made you this fucking wet?”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. You’d let him stick his dick into you right now if he wanted, but you know that Minghao isn’t going to risk that just yet. So instead, you focus on the sensation of those skillful fingers—the same ones you’ve dreamt about a long time ago—coaxing out a high you never thought you’d achieve outside the four corners of your bedroom. 

You can think about his stroke game later. Those powerful thighs as he thrusts into you. Not to mention how euphoric it would feel to come around his cock, milking him for that white-hot release until it dribbles down your thighs and he inevitably fucks it all back into you—

The stimulation of Minghao’s dexterous digits coupled with the thrill of being caught are the main players for today’s debauchery, but it’s that particular fantasy that pushes you over the edge. 

One moment, you feel like you’re on top of the world again, and the next you can taste blood in your mouth with how hard you bite against your lip to muffle your moans. A gush of slick coats Minghao’s fingers as he helps you ride out of your orgasm, peppering the side of your face with butterfly kisses.

“Pretty little whore, coming in record time,” he chuckles.

You can barely just start taming your breathing when Minghao takes his fingers out of your panties—tugging your skirt down back to semi-decency before prodding those same fingers against your lips. Still dazed from the high he just let you experience, you open your mouth, lathering your tongue against each digit as the tangy taste of you fills your tastebuds. 

“Good fucking girl.”

The train eases into the next station, and just as Minghao predicted, the car frees up just enough for you to get comfortably seated by the windows again. He sits right next to you the whole time—hand never straying from yours as he holds it firmly in his. For some reason, that gesture of his flusters you more than the stunt he just pulled five minutes ago.

When you both get off the vehicle, the awkwardness begins to settle in your system. You don’t know what you’re supposed to say to him after all of...that. Is there even a protocol to follow after getting finger-fucked on public transportation?

“Hey.”

You startle when Minghao breathes out while the two of you make your way out of the station. It’s the first time he’s broken the silence since arriving, and your heart pounds in anticipation of what he’s about to say next.

“I really am sorry for all the shit I said to you these past few months,” he sighs, rubbing the back of his head like he’s just as clueless about what to do as you are.

You blink up at him. “Um, yeah. You already told me, Hao.”

“I just figured it was worth repeating.”

“Giving me a mindblowing orgasm is a good enough apology on its own, you know.”

He stops walking for a moment, and you look back at him with brows raised.

“Really now?” he asks, and—there’s that smirk again. That no good smirk. “I don’t think I’ve received a ‘good enough apology’ from you yet, sweetheart.”

One glance at his sweats, and sure enough, the evidence of his own raging arousal is still up for grabs. You feel your pussy tingle at the mere thought of what’s to come once you voice out your agreement, even if your overworked muscles are begging for a break.

Oh, well. Might as well stock up on more painkillers on the way.

⟢ end notes: i really really REALLY went overboard on this one and there isn't even any piv sex in action holy fucking shit LMFAO TT to lovely user yourfavoritefreakyhan, i hope i didn't scare you off with the word count JSHFD I REALLY JUST GOT CARRIED AWAY AHAHS hao has been testing me for DAYS and it manifested in this . anyway, pls don't expect every request from my ask game to turn out this fucking long bc this rly was just a heat of the moment creation AJSDHSJHF

[alackofghosts]

got tagged by tumblr user @fourteenthz (loved reading about thesa, by the way <3)! thank you very much!

— B A S I C S

name: lil guy i'm very shy, don't worry about it

nicknames: none based on his name, as it's quite short already, but will also respond to a fond and/or slightly exasperated "hero"

age: 33 as of 6.55

nameday: 27th sun of the 4th umbral moon

race: rava viera

gender: cis man

orientation: gay

profession: adventurer

— P H Y S I C A L     A S P E C T

hair: black, naturally wavy, very thick and soft

eyes: dark brown

skin: warm brown, freckles easily, especially his face

tattoos: none

scars: burn scar on his left shoulder from his fight with ifrit, another burn on his right thigh from nidhogg. a few other scrapes here and there. notable lack of any significant scarring from shb and beyond, because that's how i see astrologian healing working - he feels particularly strange about not having a scar from his fight with zenos in endwalker

— F A M I L Y

parents: he has not been back to his home village, for obvious reasons, so doesn't know - but assumes - his mother is still alive and well; never met his biological dad. but because he showed signs of. however the viera would call/conceptualise the inner beast, one of the women called in a favour with a wood warder who was also a warrior, to take him under his wing to train. said wood warder, however, was wholly at a loss what to do with a child, having never taken in a ward before and decided to seek out an old friend, who had since left the forest. ...long story short, he ends up being raised by an all-viera dalmascan resistance cell, who end up packing up and leaving with him in tow after almost being rooted out by garlean forces. he views most of them as Parental Figures and loves them dearly, even if some of them have scattered into the winds after he left to become an adventurer

siblings: he isn't aware of any biological siblings, but the village took a very communal approach to raising kids, so at the time he definitely felt like the other kids were his siblings, regardless of any blood relations. one of the men in the resistance cell was a 'mere' 30 or so years older than him, so he also counts more as a sibling than anything else in his eyes

grandparents: he has definitely met his maternal grandmother, but as with his mother, he's not been back home and doesn't know if she is still alive (but in all likelihood: yes)

in laws and other: THE TWINS. putting an exact name to what alisaie and alphinaud mean to him would honestly not be Good or Close Enough, but they are absolutely like family to him and a reason to keep on going. he also has a very sibling-like relationship with lyse, who is always ready and willing to match his energy, tag along for workouts and tease the hell out of him

pets: he befriends an amaro hatchling at the crystarium during shadowbringers and during a later visit, her handler notes that she's been looking glum without him around. he loves animals, but his living situation has been far too chaotic after becoming an adventurer to accommodate an animal (that isn't his chocobo, who, at least, is much easier to house) and hasn't felt particularly inclined to change that. but after endwalker, he finds himself actually wanting to change that and has the time to do it... so, with a little bit of help from feo ul, he has a little amaro friend with him now

— S K I L L S

abilities: war + drk + pld and all that that entails. skilled and formidable fighter, good at navigating/strategising through a fight on the fly, quick study (as far as fighting is concerned, anyway)

hobbies: working out (especially running and swimming), hiking, he's been learning to enjoy fishing after endwalker

— T R A I T S

most positive traits: protective, caring, insatiable lust for life

most negative traits: too willing to let other people do the talking for him, impulsive, stubborn

— L I K E S

colours: warm red, gold, the bright green of sunlight filtering through leaves

smells: fresh earth, cinnamon, a meadow in early summer, the savoury smell of the stew one of his dads used to make

textures: soft grass under bare feet, tree bark, skin on skin, the scratch of ardbert's beard

drinks: water, pineapple juice, lemonade

— O T H E R    D E T A I L S

smokes: no

drinks: only socially, and even then it's fairly rare. he did drink a little more often as a baby adventurer, mostly because he simply had more opportunities to do so: mingling was useful and it wasn't uncommon to have a rowdy bar night to celebrate a job well done. he is a bit of a lightweight and tends to withdraw when tipsy/drunk, so he actually has more fun when sober

drugs: also no (unless we're counting medicine for this. he won't be refusing painkillers if he's in pain etc.)

mount issuance: his beloved chocobo, who he dotes on very much, especially because it was something of a dream to have when he was just a baby adventurer - he could not have afforded to buy or maintain one at the time

been arrested: he's got in trouble for those rowdy bar nights - he's not the type to start a fight, but if someone were to pick a fight with him or his friends, by gods, he will be finishing it. no serious jail time, more like being hauled off with everyone else involved to sober up until morning, though

[brookston]

Holidays 7.25

Holidays

Act Like a Caveman Day

Antifascist Pasta Day (Italy)

Bayreuther Festspiele begins (Wagner festival; Germany) [thru 8.28]

Be Adamant About Something Day

Community Day (Galicia, Spain)

CTNNB1 Awareness Day

A Day Out of Time (Last Day of the Year; Mayan, Galactic)

Ebernoe Horn Fair (Sussex, UK)

Feed the Country Ducks Day

Festival of Picaresque Animality

Health and Happiness with Hypnosis Day

International AfroLatinx, AfroCaribbean & Diaspora Women’s Day

International Day of Solidarity with Antifascist Prisoners

International Red Show Day

International Sop Rapping Over Vocals Day

John Knill Day (Cornwall, UK) [Every 5 Years]

Jumatul Bidah (Bangladesh)

Jumat-ul-Wida (India)

Merry-Go-Round Day [also 5.17]

Mugwort Day (French Republic)

National African American Hepatitis C Action Day

National Campus Press Freedom Day (Philippines)

National Carousel Day

National Clay Day

National Day of Galicia (Spain)

National Hire a Veteran Day

National Houston Day

National Schizophrenia Awareness Day (UK)

National Video Game Team Day

Occupation Day (Puerto Rico)

Rain of Black Worms Day (Romania)

Red Shoe Day

Republic Day (Tunisia)

Rosiland Franklin Day

Santiago Apóstol (Spain)

Test-Tube Baby Day

Thread the Needle Day

Traditional Palestinian Dress Day

World Drowning Prevention Day (UN)

World Embryologist Day

World IVF Day

World Youth Days 2023 begins (Lisbon, Portugal; Roman Catholic; until 7.31) [Varies; @Every 3 Years]

Food & Drink Celebrations

Candles on a Cake Day

Culinarian’s Day

Frozen Fruit Freeze Day

Indie Beer Day (Australia)

National Hot Fudge Sundae Day

National Wine and Cheese Day

4th Tuesday in July

Waterton-Glacier Science & History Day [4th Tuesday]

Independence Days

Abode of Heaven (Declared; 2018) [unrecognized]

Andany (Declared; 2017; Dissolved Sep. 2018) [unrecognized]

Commonwealth Constitution Day (Puerto Rico) 

Rathunis (Declared; 2011) [unrecognized]

Feast Days

Anne (Eastern Christianity)

Christopher (Western Christianity)

Cucuphas (a.k.a. Cueufas, Cougat; Christian; Saint)

Feast of Formation of Saint Ann (Mother of the Virgin Mary; Byzantine Rite)

Furrinalia (Old Roman Goddess of Springs)

Glodesind (Christian; Saint)

Holbein (Positivist; Saint)

Hot Fudge Sundae Day (Pastafarian)

Ilyap'a Festival (Inca thunder god)

James the Great (Western Christianity)

John I Agnus (Christian; Saint)

Julian of Le Mans (Christian; Translation)

Magnerich of Trier (Christian; Saint)

Maxfield Parrish (Artology)

National Baha’i Day (Jamaica)

Nissen, Abbot of Mountgarret, Ireland (Christian; Saint)

Paul (Christian; Martyr)

Shylock Day (Church of the SubGenius; Saint)

Slippery Slim (Muppetism)

Thea and Valentina (Christian; Virgins)

Thomas Eakins (Artology)

Lucky & Unlucky Days

Sensho (先勝 Japan) [Good luck in the morning, bad luck in the afternoon.]

Premieres

The Adventures of André & Wally B. (Pixar Cartoon; 1984)

Air Force One (Film; 1997)

Angus, Thongs and Perfect Snogging (Film; 2008)

Armor Wars (Film; 2025)

Back in Black, by AC/DC (Album; 1980)

Batman: The Killing Joke (Animated Film; 2016)

Broken Quest (Animated tV Series; 2013)

Caddyshack (Film; 1980)

China Grove, by the Doobie Brothers (Song; 1973)

A Chorus Line (Broadway Musical; 1975)

Drinking Buddies (Film; 2013)

Duck Dodgers in the 24½th Century (WB MM Cartoon; 1953)

Fame, by David Bowie (Song; 1975)

First Lensman, by E.E. "Doc" Smith (Novel; 1950) [Lensman #2]

Good Burger (Film; 1997)

Hemingway’s Adventures of a Young Man (Film; 1962)

Justice League: Warworld (WB Animated Film; 2023)

Kill ‘Em All, by Metallica (Album; 1983)

Lara Croft Tom Raider: The Cradle of Life (Film; 2003)

Last Train to Clarksville, recorded by The Monks (Song; 1966)

Lego Scooby-Doo! Blowout Beach Bash (WB Animated Film; 2017)

Lucy (Film; 2014)

Maximum Overdrive (Film; 1986)

Paul’s Boutique, by The Beastie Boys (Album; 1989)

Porky’s Spring Planting (WB LT Cartoon; 1938)

Ruby Sparks (Film; 2012)

Seabiscuit (Film; 2003)

Step Brothers (Film; 2008)

The Tree’s Knees (WB LT Cartoon; 1931)

X-Files: I Want to Believe (Film; 2008)

Yes, by Yes (Album; 1969)

You Can’t Hurry Love, by The Supremes (Song; 1966)

Today’s Name Days

Jakob, Jakobus, Thea, Thomas, Valentina (Austria)

Ana, Yana (Bulgaria)

Beata, Jakov, Krsto, Valentina (Croatia)

Jakub (Czech Republic)

Jacobus (Denmark)

Jaagup, Jaak, Jaako, Jaap, Jako, Jakob, Jass (Estonia)

Jaakko, Jaakob, Jaakoppi, Jimi (Finland)

Jacques, Valentine (France)

Jakob, Valentine (Germany)

Anna (Greece)

Jakab, Kristóf (Hungary)

Cristoforo, Giacomo (Italy)

Jēkabs, Marika (Latvia)

Aušrinė, Jokūbas, Kristupas (Lithuania)

Jack, Jakob, Jim (Norway)

Jakub, Krzysztof, Nieznamir, Sławosz, Walentyna (Poland)

Jakub (Slovakia)

Jaime, Santiago (Spain)

Jakob (Sweden)

Jac, Jack, Jacki, Jackie, Jackson, Jacky, Jacques, Jimmie (Universal)

Coby, Colby, Diego, Israel, Jacob, Jacoby, Jack, Jackie, Jackson, Jaclyn, Jacqueline, Jacquelyn, Jacques, Jaime, Jake, Jakob, James, Jameson, Jamie, Jaquan, Jaqueline, Jaxon, Jaxson, Jim, Jimena, Jimmie, Jimmy, Kobe, Koby, Kolby, Santiago (USA)

Today is Also…

Day of Year: Day 206 of 2024; 159 days remaining in the year

ISO: Day 2 of week 30 of 2023

Celtic Tree Calendar: Tinne (Holly) [Day 16 of 28]

Chinese: Month 6 (Ji-Wei), Day 8 (Jia-Shen)

Chinese Year of the: Rabbit 4721 (until February 10, 2024)

Hebrew: 7 Av 5783

Islamic: 7 Muharram 1445

J Cal: 26 Lux; Fiveday [26 of 30]

Julian: 12 July 2023

Moon: 50%: 1st Quarter

Positivist: 10 Dante (8th Month) [Holbein]

Runic Half Month: Ur (Primal Strength) [Day 12 of 15]

Season: Summer (Day 35 of 94)

Zodiac: Leo (Day 4 of 31)

[yuvrajrathod4c]

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[myblogscmi]

Electrical Safety Management Market Is Estimated To Witness High Growth Owing To Rising Awareness regarding Electrical Safety

The global Electrical Safety Management Market is estimated to be valued at US$ 3.73 Billion In 2023 and is expected to exhibit a CAGR Of 6.7% over the forecast period 2022-2030, as highlighted in a new report published by Coherent Market Insights. Market Overview: The Electrical Safety Management Market refers to the measures and systems implemented to ensure the safety of electrical operations and prevent accidents or mishaps. These measures include the use of protective equipment, training programs for electrical personnel, regular maintenance and inspections, and compliance with electrical safety standards and regulations. The market for electrical safety management products and services is driven by the increasing awareness among industries and individuals regarding the potential hazards of electrical operations. The demand for electrical safety management products is also fueled by the stringent government regulations and guidelines regarding electrical safety in various sectors such as construction, manufacturing, healthcare, and oil and gas. Market Key Trends: One key trend in the Electrical Safety Management Market is the increasing adoption of advanced electrical safety systems and technologies. With the advancements in technology, new and more efficient electrical safety products and tools are being developed, which provide enhanced protection against electrical hazards. These include arc flash protection systems, ground fault protection devices, insulation monitoring devices, and electrical safety interlocks. The adoption of these advanced systems is driven by the need for improved safety and compliance with electrical safety standards. Furthermore, the increasing automation and digitization of electrical systems in various industries also contribute to the demand for advanced electrical safety management solutions. Overall, the Electrical Safety Management Market is expected to witness significant growth in the forecast period, driven by the rising awareness and adoption of electrical safety measures and the introduction of advanced electrical safety systems and technologies. Technological: The technological factors affecting the market include advancements in electrical safety management systems and tools. New technologies, such as IoT and artificial intelligence, are being integrated into electrical safety management solutions, enhancing their effectiveness and enabling real-time monitoring and predictive maintenance. Key Takeaways: In terms of regional analysis, Asia Pacific is projected to be the fastest-growing and dominating region in the electrical safety management market. This can be attributed to the rapid industrialization and urbanization in countries like China and India, leading to an increased demand for electrical safety management solutions. Additionally, the rising awareness about workplace safety and the implementation of safety regulations contribute to market growth in this region. Key players operating in the electrical safety management market include Schneider Electric SE, ABB Ltd., Siemens AG, Eaton Corporation, Honeywell International Inc., Rockwell Automation, Inc., UL LLC (Underwriters Laboratories), Emerson Electric Co., General Electric (GE), Littelfuse, Inc., DuPont de Nemours, Inc., Fluke Corporation, Omicron Electronics GmbH, Megger Group Limited, and MSA Safety Incorporated. These key players contribute to market growth through their technological advancements, product innovations, and strategic partnerships in the electrical safety management sector.

[usmxnghxni]

In shā Allāh, for this month of Ṣafar 1445 AH, Ayyam al-Beed [white days] will fall on:

13th Ṣafar 1445 – Tuesday 29th August 2023

14th Ṣafar 1445 – Wednesday 30th August 2023

15th Ṣafar 1445 – Thursday 31st August 2023

“Beed” is the plural of “Abyad” which means white. Three days of 13, 14 and 15 of lunar month are called “Al-Ayyam-ul-Beed” for the reason that their nights are bright because of the moonlight. The moon begins to diminish gradually after these days.

Jareer ibn ‘Abdullaah رضي الله عنه narrated that the Prophet ﷺ said: “Fasting three days of each month is fasting for a lifetime, and ayyam al-beed are the thirteenth, fourteenth and fifteenth.”

● [رواه النسائي ٢٤٢٠، وصححه الألباني في صحيح الترغيب ١٠٤٠]

Abu Dharr رضي الله عنه said: The Messenger of Allaah ﷺ said to me: “If you fast any part of the month, then fast the thirteenth, fourteenth and fifteenth.”

● [رواه النسائي ٢٤٢٤، وصححه الألباني في صحيح الترغيب ١٠٣٨]

Abu Hurayrah رضي الله عنه said: “My close friend [i.e., the Prophet ﷺ] advised me to do three things which I will never give up until I die: fasting three days each month, praying Duha, and sleeping after praying Witr.”

● [صحيح البخاري ١١٧٨، صحيح مسلم ٧٢١]

*What A Salaf Said Regarding Fasting, SubḥānAllāh!!*

Sufyān b. ‘Uyaynah Raḥimahullāh said: “When on the Day of Resurrection a slave is being taken into account and from amongst all of his actions are sins, and all that remains is that person’s fast, Allāh will take from him all of the sins and enter him into Jannah with his fast.”

● [رواه البيهقي في شعب الإيمان]

*The Wisdom Behind Fasting | Sh. Ibn al-'Uthaymeen Raḥimahullāh*

Sh. Ibn al-‘Uthaymeen Raḥimahullāh said: “From the wisdom of fasting is that it is a form of training for controlling the soul and the power to stop yourself for indeed man is inclined towards evil except for the one to whom mercy is shown by Allāh, it also overwhelms a person and makes them humble, it gives them humility towards the Creator and kindness towards the creation.

From the wisdom of fasting is that the blood becomes less flowing, it becomes more thick and more constricted when a person is hungry and thirsty, this causes the flowing of Shayṭān to be less as well for indeed Shayṭān flows through the bloodstream of the son of Ādam as has been authentically narrated from the Prophet ﷺ in Bukhārī and Muslim so fasting decreases the whispers of Shayṭān and it decreases the episodes of lust and anger hence the reason fasting is called a 'shield’ against desires."

● [مجالس شهر رمضان]

Prophet ﷺ said: "There is a gate in Jannāh called ar-Rayyān and only those who observed fast shall enter through."

● [صحيح البخاري ١٨٩٦]

Al Bassaam رحمه الله said: "Fasting increases mercy and people AWARE of the pain suffered by those less fortunate."

● [‎تيسير اللام ٣١٣/١]

Prophet ﷺ said: "Every servant of Allah who observes fast for a day in the way of Allah, Allah would remove, because of this day, his face farther from the Fire (of Hell) to the extent of seventy years' distance.

● [صحيح مسلم ١١٥٣]

*Virtue Of Fasting*

قال رسول الله صلى الله عليه وسلم : من صام يوما في سبيل الله جعل الله بينه وبين النار خندقا كما بين السماء والأرض.

The Messenger of Allāh ﷺ said: “Whoever fasts a day in the Path of Allāh, Allāh will create between him and the Hellfire a trench like (the distance of) what is between the sky and the earth.”

● [رواه الطبراني في الأوسط والألباني في صحيح الترغيب والترهيب رقم الحديث ٩٩٠]

*Reward Of Fasting*

قال الشيخ ابن العثيمين رحمه الله : ومِنْ فضائِل الصوم أنَّ ثوابَه لا يَتَقَيَّدُ بِعَدَدٍ مُعيَّنٍ بل يُعطَى الصائمُ أجرَه بغير حسابٍ.

Sh. Ibn al-‘Uthaymīn رحمه الله: “And from the virtues of the fasting is that its reward is NOT limited to a specific amount rather the fasting person is given his reward without an account (i.e unlimited reward).”

● [مجالس شهر رمضان ٢\٣٠]

Do try to fast the 3 white days, InshaAllāh!

[brookstonalmanac]

Holidays 7.25

Holidays

Act Like a Caveman Day

Antifascist Pasta Day (Italy)

Bayreuther Festspiele begins (Wagner festival; Germany) [thru 8.28]

Be Adamant About Something Day

Community Day (Galicia, Spain)

CTNNB1 Awareness Day

A Day Out of Time (Last Day of the Year; Mayan, Galactic)

Ebernoe Horn Fair (Sussex, UK)

Feed the Country Ducks Day

Festival of Picaresque Animality

Health and Happiness with Hypnosis Day

International AfroLatinx, AfroCaribbean & Diaspora Women’s Day

International Day of Solidarity with Antifascist Prisoners

International Red Show Day

International Sop Rapping Over Vocals Day

John Knill Day (Cornwall, UK) [Every 5 Years]

Jumatul Bidah (Bangladesh)

Jumat-ul-Wida (India)

Merry-Go-Round Day [also 5.17]

Mugwort Day (French Republic)

National African American Hepatitis C Action Day

National Campus Press Freedom Day (Philippines)

National Carousel Day

National Clay Day

National Day of Galicia (Spain)

National Hire a Veteran Day

National Houston Day

National Schizophrenia Awareness Day (UK)

National Video Game Team Day

Occupation Day (Puerto Rico)

Rain of Black Worms Day (Romania)

Red Shoe Day

Republic Day (Tunisia)

Rosiland Franklin Day

Santiago Apóstol (Spain)

Test-Tube Baby Day

Thread the Needle Day

Traditional Palestinian Dress Day

World Drowning Prevention Day (UN)

World Embryologist Day

World IVF Day

World Youth Days 2023 begins (Lisbon, Portugal; Roman Catholic; until 7.31) [Varies; @Every 3 Years]

Food & Drink Celebrations

Candles on a Cake Day

Culinarian’s Day

Frozen Fruit Freeze Day

Indie Beer Day (Australia)

National Hot Fudge Sundae Day

National Wine and Cheese Day

4th Tuesday in July

Waterton-Glacier Science & History Day [4th Tuesday]

Independence Days

Abode of Heaven (Declared; 2018) [unrecognized]

Andany (Declared; 2017; Dissolved Sep. 2018) [unrecognized]

Commonwealth Constitution Day (Puerto Rico) 

Rathunis (Declared; 2011) [unrecognized]

Feast Days

Anne (Eastern Christianity)

Christopher (Western Christianity)

Cucuphas (a.k.a. Cueufas, Cougat; Christian; Saint)

Feast of Formation of Saint Ann (Mother of the Virgin Mary; Byzantine Rite)

Furrinalia (Old Roman Goddess of Springs)

Glodesind (Christian; Saint)

Holbein (Positivist; Saint)

Hot Fudge Sundae Day (Pastafarian)

Ilyap'a Festival (Inca thunder god)

James the Great (Western Christianity)

John I Agnus (Christian; Saint)

Julian of Le Mans (Christian; Translation)

Magnerich of Trier (Christian; Saint)

Maxfield Parrish (Artology)

National Baha’i Day (Jamaica)

Nissen, Abbot of Mountgarret, Ireland (Christian; Saint)

Paul (Christian; Martyr)

Shylock Day (Church of the SubGenius; Saint)

Slippery Slim (Muppetism)

Thea and Valentina (Christian; Virgins)

Thomas Eakins (Artology)

Lucky & Unlucky Days

Sensho (先勝 Japan) [Good luck in the morning, bad luck in the afternoon.]

Premieres

The Adventures of André & Wally B. (Pixar Cartoon; 1984)

Air Force One (Film; 1997)

Angus, Thongs and Perfect Snogging (Film; 2008)

Armor Wars (Film; 2025)

Back in Black, by AC/DC (Album; 1980)

Batman: The Killing Joke (Animated Film; 2016)

Broken Quest (Animated tV Series; 2013)

Caddyshack (Film; 1980)

China Grove, by the Doobie Brothers (Song; 1973)

A Chorus Line (Broadway Musical; 1975)

Drinking Buddies (Film; 2013)

Duck Dodgers in the 24½th Century (WB MM Cartoon; 1953)

Fame, by David Bowie (Song; 1975)

First Lensman, by E.E. "Doc" Smith (Novel; 1950) [Lensman #2]

Good Burger (Film; 1997)

Hemingway’s Adventures of a Young Man (Film; 1962)

Justice League: Warworld (WB Animated Film; 2023)

Kill ‘Em All, by Metallica (Album; 1983)

Lara Croft Tom Raider: The Cradle of Life (Film; 2003)

Last Train to Clarksville, recorded by The Monks (Song; 1966)

Lego Scooby-Doo! Blowout Beach Bash (WB Animated Film; 2017)

Lucy (Film; 2014)

Maximum Overdrive (Film; 1986)

Paul’s Boutique, by The Beastie Boys (Album; 1989)

Porky’s Spring Planting (WB LT Cartoon; 1938)

Ruby Sparks (Film; 2012)

Seabiscuit (Film; 2003)

Step Brothers (Film; 2008)

The Tree’s Knees (WB LT Cartoon; 1931)

X-Files: I Want to Believe (Film; 2008)

Yes, by Yes (Album; 1969)

You Can’t Hurry Love, by The Supremes (Song; 1966)

Today’s Name Days

Jakob, Jakobus, Thea, Thomas, Valentina (Austria)

Ana, Yana (Bulgaria)

Beata, Jakov, Krsto, Valentina (Croatia)

Jakub (Czech Republic)

Jacobus (Denmark)

Jaagup, Jaak, Jaako, Jaap, Jako, Jakob, Jass (Estonia)

Jaakko, Jaakob, Jaakoppi, Jimi (Finland)

Jacques, Valentine (France)

Jakob, Valentine (Germany)

Anna (Greece)

Jakab, Kristóf (Hungary)

Cristoforo, Giacomo (Italy)

Jēkabs, Marika (Latvia)

Aušrinė, Jokūbas, Kristupas (Lithuania)

Jack, Jakob, Jim (Norway)

Jakub, Krzysztof, Nieznamir, Sławosz, Walentyna (Poland)

Jakub (Slovakia)

Jaime, Santiago (Spain)

Jakob (Sweden)

Jac, Jack, Jacki, Jackie, Jackson, Jacky, Jacques, Jimmie (Universal)

Coby, Colby, Diego, Israel, Jacob, Jacoby, Jack, Jackie, Jackson, Jaclyn, Jacqueline, Jacquelyn, Jacques, Jaime, Jake, Jakob, James, Jameson, Jamie, Jaquan, Jaqueline, Jaxon, Jaxson, Jim, Jimena, Jimmie, Jimmy, Kobe, Koby, Kolby, Santiago (USA)

Today is Also…

Day of Year: Day 206 of 2024; 159 days remaining in the year

ISO: Day 2 of week 30 of 2023

Celtic Tree Calendar: Tinne (Holly) [Day 16 of 28]

Chinese: Month 6 (Ji-Wei), Day 8 (Jia-Shen)

Chinese Year of the: Rabbit 4721 (until February 10, 2024)

Hebrew: 7 Av 5783

Islamic: 7 Muharram 1445

J Cal: 26 Lux; Fiveday [26 of 30]

Julian: 12 July 2023

Moon: 50%: 1st Quarter

Positivist: 10 Dante (8th Month) [Holbein]

Runic Half Month: Ur (Primal Strength) [Day 12 of 15]

Season: Summer (Day 35 of 94)

Zodiac: Leo (Day 4 of 31)

[ledvideo]

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[jomiddlemarch]

Things are only impossible until they’re not

3. Alina opened her eyes, blinked, and saw stars.

They were not, however, in space. Neither the stars nor Alina and Aleksander.

She tried to shake her head to clear her vision, but it was impossible, because her head was nestled quite securely in the crook of Aleksander’s arm and his other arm was wrapped around her. Everything except the stars seemed a bit dim, but she had a growing sense of his right hand, strong and slender and much bigger than her own, warm at her hip, and the scent of his skin, his voice muttering something she couldn’t make out, even when she tried. She tried harder.

“Are you reciting coordinates? For all the diplomatic summits of the past five missions?” Alina murmured. “Most people pray when they think someone might not make it, but to each his own—"

“You’re awake—” The relief in his voice was undisguised.

“Yes, and I guess the landing was a little bumpy. Probably because the capsule was meant to be towed in by a tractor beam,” Alina said, watching Aleksander smile from an entirely new angle.

“I don’t usually pilot a ship with someone on my lap either,” he said.

“You’re the only person in the entire fleet who could have landed an escape pod with a barely functioning nav system on an uncharted planet and I’d say that to Niko’s face. How long was I out?”

“Long enough,” he said. He hadn’t made a move to help her sit up or assume any infinitesimally more professional position.

“Why didn’t you Call me?” she asked. They rarely spoke of it, but they were both members of the Summoners, the remnant of an ancient sect, whose psionic powers were trained during adolescence at a retreat in the mountains; it was something the crew was not aware of, save for Dr. Zenik. Despite efforts by Admiral Ul at Grisha Command, Summoners were still held in a degree of suspicion that hampered their ability to serve and she and Aleksander had decided when she came on board that they would keep quiet about their connection.

“I wasn’t sure—" he broke off, paused for a long moment, his eyes dark as starless space. “I couldn’t bear it if you didn’t answer. If you’d gone where you couldn’t hear me.” He didn’t say anything else, but Alina knew he was thinking of his former first officer, Lt. Luda, who’d been killed in action in a skirmish with the Anastas, saving Aleksander’s own life and the rest of the diplomatic party. Lt. Luda, who’d also been a Summoner and from what little Alina had heard, Aleksander’s closest friend.

“That place doesn’t exist,” she said. She didn’t smile up at him, she wanted him to know she was serious, and he nodded.

“This place, Merzost 3, maybe it’s time we checked it out. Found out what we have to work with,” Alina said, trying now to sound like the confident, cheeky officer he was familiar with. “I’m assuming you confirmed there’s breathable air—”

“I did,” he said. “We landed in what seems like a small clearing in a larger forest. It was hard to get a better look when I was trying to keep us from cracking up on impact.”

“I always liked the old motto for the Grisha Corps, to boldly go,” Alina offered.

“It’s bad grammar,” Aleksander replied. “Split infinitive.”

Alina rolled her eyes, as he’d intended her to and heaved herself upright, or close enough. His arm was still steady around her waist.

“Only in Standard. It’s perfectly acceptable in Keramzin. And Eryk,” she said. “Let’s go, boldly or not, and see what Merzost 3 is like.”

“What we’re up against, you mean,” he answered.

“Potato, potahto,” she said, the childish traditional Ravkan retort making him grin.

Merzost 3 was beautiful, the forest richly green and indigo, full of the sound of the wind, mountains to the north and the promise of running water glimpsed through the trees’ branches, a bright silver chain. It was also, at what appeared to be midday, both suns overhead, bitingly cold.

“The keftas won’t be enough after nightfall and the escape pod’s power supply is nearly gone,” Aleksander said. “We need to make a fire. And quickly.”

[voidsentprinces]

Azem: When training as a maid, one must be prepared for any situation. But retain our regal appearance and be at the height of our posture and that short cosplay ain't doing it either of those things.

Thancred: Yeah but, I thought like...the longer dresses aren't cute?

Azem: I mean...how else are you suppose to store your auxiliary maid lalafall?

Thancred: You're...what?

Azem: *lifts dress*

First!Tataru: Sup, bruh!? Works a bitch, eh? Catch that game the other night?

Thancred: I...wasn't...aware we were suppose to carry a lalafell with us at all times.

Azem: PSH! Next you're gonna tell me, you don't have your mandatory bra faerie.

Feo Ul: GET DA FOCK AWAY FERM ME SAPLIN YA HACKIT DOBBER!

[vagabond-sol]

Tidbits about Cazhim:

Part 1:

Cazhim’s first name is meant to be a bastardized version of Qasim/Cassim, which already has a LOT of different spellings. Originally it would have been Cazzim or Cazim but I thought that was too lazy a change but I always wanted it to be shortened to Caz.

Cazhim has ancestral roots in the Steppe’s Malaguld clan. He is aware of this but knows very little.

Cazhim is naturally right handed but, through training he has become decently ambidextrous. He is also capable of performing very simple acts with his tail though he dislikes doing so in the company of others

Cazhim did not do any of the crafting quests besides the Leatherworker’s. His metal working skills come from Albina “Snow” lux Pollux.

As The WoL/Main Character, Cazhim gets stronger faster but is put under more mental stress, going so far as to temporarily take up the rifle again despite abandoning firearms upon arriving in Eorzea. He always bounces back but the strain is there.

As a NPC/Scion Agent, Cazhim doesn’t quite reach the same heights of power as his WoL version but he is mentally much healthier and is notably cheerier. He will almost fully match his WoL version in Endwalker but always remain a bit behind.

WoL Cazhim, lacking the same free time as NPC Cazhim, does not focus as much on his crafters and as a result dedicates much of his post Endwalker break to brushing up on his trades.

Cazhim fights the dirtiest when he’s using a weapon. Stabbing a foot or twisting the blade to keep someone still for a punch or point blank blast is a common trick. As such he favors swords with small cross guards so he can maneuver the blade freely.

Cazhim takes more pride in his crafting work than his martial accomplishments which he often deflects as a group effort of the Scions most times. This is not to say he doesn’t take pride in his combat skills, he just values the more tangible good he leaves behind more.

Cazhim can read and write in both Dalmascan and Eorzean Common without the aid of the Echo. He is making strides to keep learning materials for other languages since he kind of considers the Echo cheating. He is still somewhat slow at reading even though he reads clearly and never fails to understand even complicated topics with just a little context.

Cazhim makes a passive income from his leather designs made during the Heavensward Leatherworking quest line. On occasion he takes commissions but as WoL he only accepts Elde’s requests.

Cazhim was/is incredibly difficult to romance. Not because he’s oblivious or aromantic, it is simply because he is not seeking it and most that seek him have fleeting interest (something he doesn’t always decline). He likes keeping to himself and may even entertain a fling but a genuine relationship with him takes time.

Cazhim values his space and does not like his PTSD being discussed. He would only ever speak on the matter to a romantic partner or a close confidant.

Cazhim spends his down time with Tataru most often due to her distance from combat and her superb crafting wisdom. Post Shadowbringers he offers Feo Ul the permission to enter his dreams on occasion.

Part 2:

Cazhim’s custom title as WoL are potentially “The Primal Fist”, “God Hand”, “Devil Hand”, or “Battle

Cazhim does his best to adopt moves from other martial artist and warriors. This includes Ran’jit, whose unique fighting style aided him greatly in beating Cazhim in their first fight. However his base style takes its roots in boxing.

Companion Cazhim’s power level is on par with Estinien. Even if he is not the WoL he is an exceedingly capable warrior in his own right. In Endwalker he has closed the gap significantly and is notably able to contend with Zenos and the WoL though his eventual defeat would become apparent.

NPC Caz would disapprove of a WoL who had no interest in being a “hero” or were overly self interested. He understands and even greatly respects a WoL that complains, but ultimately has no regrets about being a force for good even if it’s painful at times. He will like a WoL who is really into their role but tell them that they’re kind of weird to be so giddy about it.

NPC Caz stays in Idyllshire during Heavensward because he finds Ishgardians too uptight and Idyllshire is closer to the “fun” parts. This is his polite way of avoiding unnecessary conflict with Ishgardians who still harbor misguided prejudices against the Au ra. He has no problem dispatching harassers but he knows leaving a trail of bodies in the city would not aid the cause, be they breathing bodies or not.

Part 3:

Part 4

End:

Hey! If ya got this far: Thanks for reading this string of random thoughts I have for Cazhim. This will surely happen again at another time…or I’ll just add to it and reblog it sometimes.

I added “Parts” to divide up the big edits I do to this post in case people come by later.

[efrmellifer]

Receptum

5.55, but with more Wymelliferel and Etien's thoughts

Etien stood in the Rising Stones, swaying from foot to foot (a habit she’d picked up in the months she’d been away from Scion duties), the Scions around her—both those new and old, dyed in the wool and relatively new to the movement.

Of their number, she stood closest to Estinien. But of course she did; to have done otherwise would have been the more peculiar choice.

Still, she was attentive as the Scions were invited to another meeting of the Alliance in Ala Mhigo. Not just the Alliance this time, apparently, since they had guests from the beast tribes. All of them. She hummed, only loud enough that Estinien heard it. And maybe Y’shtola, since her ear swiveled back toward Etien.

Ambitious, Etien murmured, not caring who heard her. Estinien chuckled.

She tapped the toes of her boots on the floor while Alphinaud accepted the invitation to the Alliance meeting, still rocking just a little until Estinien caught her by the elbows.

“You’re making me seasick,” he said, voice low so only she could hear him.

The Scions continued talking about who should go, and blah blah Thancred and Y’shtola because summoning,aye, all right.

Then Thancred turned to her. “I think we’ve alldone our part in that endeavor, don’t you, Etien?”

She froze completely, hands coming up to her chest as she nodded, eyebrows pulling together and pitching upward in the middle.

Urianger took the floor from her, stating—rather than asking—in fairly certain terms that he would be staying behind. For the defense, of course.

Then Estinien chimed in. “I’m not coming, either. Aymeric will be there, and I’d rather not be interrogated.”

Etien turned, breaking his hold on her arms easily. “Estinien, he’s just worried about you. We’veseen you more often than anyone else, especially current company, and even we worry.” She let a lock of his hair drift off her curled hand, the way one would release a puff of smoke.

He crossed his arms, obstinate. “Hmph. I will not let you persuade me.”

“Suit yourself, I’m just telling you that Aymeric isn’t trying to pin you down or breathe down your neck. He’s worried about you because he loves you. Because you’re a Scion now, and he knows—” She remembered who she was standing among, and shut her mouth.

Thancred carried on with saying those were staying, stay, and everyone else come along.

“Well, I’ll see you later then,” Etien mumbled, stepping away and towards the door into The Seventh Heaven.

Estinien clicked his tongue as she left, watching the ruffles of her skirt swishing.

“Hath trouble come to Paradise?” Urianger asked, sympathy in his tone and his posture. “Firmly didst thou hold her still, and harshly rebuke her expression of her and Aymeric’s love.”

“You stayed behind,” he replied. “Are you fighting with the other Scions?”

Urianger almost laughed. “Nay, but neither have I taken any for lovers.”

Estinien huffed again. “That is not the problem. They worry about me, I worry about them; their method of worrying is far more doting than mine is. It can be stifling.”

“Ah.” Urianger nodded. “Well, thou wilt see much more of her in the coming days, both as thy paramour and as thy comrade. ‘Twould behoove thee to make thy peace with how she may tend to and treat with thee on and off the battlefield.”

A soft groan from Estinien. “I suppose you have a point.”

***

Again, Etien was sat next to G’raha, but the two of them and Ishgard’s Lord Commander—or was he Lord Speaker for these meetings?—were all sat towards the middle of the table this time.

She sat, looking dazed and happy as he managed to rally the beast tribes, praising them and the component members of the Alliance representation for their strengths, uniting them under their shared purpose. And then, she perked, returning to a more active focus (it was plain in her eyes) as he drew them all metaphorically under the shared banner.

Etien blinked a few times as Aymeric met her eyes.

“I submit that the honor of naming it should go to the Scion whose brave efforts have done so much to unite Eorzea. What say you, my friend?”

She blushed, even inside her ears, then dipped her head to think. “I would call it The Grand Company of Eorzea,” she replied.

Alphinaud turned to her, shocked as he commented, “But that’s the name I…”

She just nodded while the other Alliance members voiced their approval, including the assorted beast tribes. When invited, she joined Alphinaud outside to talk.

Catching the tail end of the conversation, Aymeric sidled up to her before she left to speak with former Crystal Braves.

“It was astoundingly…generous of you to give the new Alliance Alphinaud’s name for it.”

She shrugged. “Well, for one thing, it was better than anything I was going to come up with on the spot, and for another,” she slipped her hand into his for emphasis, “I already got everything I wanted from that time in the Scions’ collective life. I figured I might as well pass it on to Alphinaud, so he could see his dreams come true.”

“You, too, see him as your younger brother then, I take it?”

Etien sighed, her grip loosening, but she didn’t let go of Aymeric’s hand. “Aye, I suppose I do, hmm? He and Alisaie--”

“Closed the gaping wound that came with leaving M’ertle and M’ynstrel,” he finished for her. “I understand. Well, conceptually. Unlike you and Estinien, I never had siblings I lost and found succor in the Leveilleur twins.” He chuckled. “When we say ‘the twins’ now, we shall have to distinguish between whether we meant the Leveilleurs or our own children.”

Etien’s eyes lit with mirth, but she didn’t quite laugh. “You’re right. Though ours look more distinct; only people aware of the details of their birth would know them to be twins.”

“Fraternal twins,” Aymeric pushed gently.

“Well, so are the Leveilleurs, unless there’s something I don’t know. But, it would be their story to tell, and none of my business unless they made it my business.”

“That is enough about the twins for now. Either set.” Aymeric’s voice had sunk closer to a whisper, so Etien looked up at him, listening attentively. “For all my oratory justification, I offered you the chance to name the new alliance so you could choose at least onething on thisgods-awful road you keep getting goaded along.”

“I appreciate the gesture,” she murmured in response, now looking away to hide some of her expression, letting go of his hand so she could fold hers in front of her. “I only regret that I had to do what I did.”

“Had to?”

“I cannot be selfish, or even self-interested. They won’t let me.” She lifted her chin. He knew that motion.

“Please do not cry, my dearest. I could not bear to see it, not after… after everything,” he added, his tone similar in her ear to how it had sounded years ago, when he’d told Estinien that without Alphinaud, Estinien would be dead.

He took her into his arms. “I do not mean… you are free to cry. If not to me, then to whom?” He stroked her hair. “My heart will ache with every tear that falls, but I am your shield, and you are safe with me to express what you must, however you must.”

But she just sniffled. “You’re right. I have to be strong.”

Alphinaud called to her, and she lifted her head from where it rested under Aymeric’s breastbone.

He rested his fingers along her chin, even as she turned her head to look toward the sound of her name. “Go, Etien,” he instructed her softly. “You only need to be strong for a bit longer.”

***

Etien’s mind wandered as she rode her griffin (Nyx was currently resting at the Holy Stables after some medical procedures, well cared for by House Fortemps, as she always had been) through the bluffs of Gyr Abania.

She knew Alphinaud was going to travel the whole way by aether, and he’d be waiting for her, tapping his toe against the stones at Castrum Oriens, but having to slow down a little as he waited for her to fly from Porta Praetoria wasn’t going to kill him. Plus, these griffins were ungodly fast; she was halfway across the Fringes. She was practically there.

She waved, in case anyone in Castellum Velodyna could see her, and held tight for the last few moments of her flight.

She came to a landing by coasting over the top of the castrum’s gates and touching down before she and her mount smacked into the aetheryte, then wandered around looking for Alphinaud, pleasantly surprised by how lively the castrum still was—packages went in and out, training and patrols were still taking place, the whole nine yards.

She tried to pay attention as she asked Riol and Alianne for their thoughts on the Crystal Braves, but as soon as Ilberd came up, her mind began to wander again, wanting to think about anything else.

“One bad apple” made her think of the apples that occasionally grew outside the Gates of Judgment, and then the sweet, crisp apples of Il Mheg. Oh, she missed Feo Ul.The pixie had made their way through Ishgard and tapped on the window of the house soon after the kits were born, eager to see the less-than-literal fruits of their sapling.

They’d tipped their head this way and that and cooed about how cute the twins were, assessing them as they admired. According to them, Landric looked like he would have an affinity for magic, and they traced the curve of Betula’s cheek, then laid their hand upon it the way they did to Etien so often. “A hardy shrub of a girl you have here. A pretty, sturdy little Lacecap.”

They fluttered away from the cradles then, sitting on Etien’s shoulder. “I expect the others will be envious that I have a new set of twins to play with, when these two get bigger. Everyone in Il Mheg misses Alisaie and Alphinaud.”

“Aww,” Etien murmured. “I wish the rift weren’t quite so much of a yawning chasm,” she added, “so they could all come with you.”

“But they can all enjoy it by proxy with their king’s stories. And I imagine they may be itching for one now.” They took off from their seated position, wings flapping hard at first, but slowing as they evened out in the air (and didn’t have to worry about taking Etien’s hair with them). “Take care, Etien, until my next visit.”

She nodded, with a cheery “you too!” and waving as they made their usual wide loop and disappeared back home.

Etien snapped from her reverie when Riol’s voice grew more boisterous, laughing about how glory hunters were stopped before they could start in the Crystal Braves.

She blinked into the dappled sunshine, remembering she was technically on the job, and shook her head to clear it, ears bouncing. “Where to now?” she asked Alphinaud.

He ushered her towards Gridania with diplomatic concessions that they’d take up enough of Riol and Alianne’s time, and that the testimonies that Alisaie and G’raha had gathered were waiting for them. This time, she relented in the name of promptness and traveled to the woodland city on the currents of aether.

And it was just as well, because she would have been disappointed to dismount at the gate to the city only to have to recall her mount to ride to Little Solace. But she arrived in the East Shroud and paid her toll to the aetheryte tender, and walked the relatively short distance between the Hawthorne Hut and the home of the Sylphs.

Even Frixio acknowledged that they had just seen each other at the Alliance meeting, but Etien wasn’t completely humorless about the to-do list she’d been tackling since then, offering the customary dance of greeting with a little smile on her lips. Hells, she was almost disappointed Frixio said no.

But there were bigger fish to fry, like the abducted Sylphs to worry about, and—her ears swiveled backwards before anyone’s attention (other than G’raha’s, she figured) had been drawn to the rapid footsteps behind her.

Well, she supposed they had the Sharlayan envoy to worry about, too, now. As she watched Alphinaud and Alisaie converse about the envoy’s identity, her lips parted in surprise. Not just any representative of Sharlayan, then. Their father.

She swallowed, already imagining the worst possibilities that an unexpected visit could portend. Well, in some ways, this wasn’t unexpected, was it? And yet, her chest was getting tight with the dread.

She took a deep breath. This wasn’t even herfather, so she had no reason to be so negative and scared. It was going to be fine.

And so they all set off. As Etien thumbed out the right number of gil to the tenders, she sighed. It certainly would have cost lessfor her to ride from Gridania when she’d left, if she’d known she was going to be coming right back, with a shorter time limit this go around. Still, as she arrived at Nophica’s Altar and entered the Lotus Stand, admiring its beauty once again, she found it a little difficult to be upset about the monetary cost.

Not when she and the others were commended for their swift attendance, and certainly not when she had a bad feeling about this, this little meeting that still loomed in front of them. She’d have paid a much steeper price to have this feeling go away. It only grew as his boots sounded on the dirt path leading to where they all stood waiting.

She smiled as Fourchenault said that the twins’ mother would be pleased to hear of their condition and was well herself, glad that Alisaie and Alphinaud didn’t have one morething to worry about.

But it was after the pleasantries—including gratitude exchanged for all that Louisoix had done for Eorzea and received in hospitality from Eorzea—that the foul mood that Etien had already sensed came to the forefront, casting its shadow over the conversation.

As the twins made their arguments, Etien tried to remind Fourchenault of the axiom she was sure he’d heard, and that she’d had to fall back on before, but never to a Leveilleur: “To ignore the plight of those one might conceivably save is not wisdom—it is indolence.”

The way he turned it onto Alphinaud and Alisaie felt like a slap, and she hissed, ready to argue.

The confidence with which he disowned them after silenced her immediately. The breaking of their voices as Alisaie moved to follow her progenitor, and Alphinaud told her to give it up, those set Etien’s eyes to welling.

They were so resigned… Had she looked so incredibly smalland alone when she’d set off on that forest path, effectively made orphan by breaking from her family, the way they had just been severed from theirs?

She answered her linkpearl, sighing her way through the conversation with Krile so she didn’t start crying for her surrogate siblings.

As they left the Lotus Stand, she took Alisaie’s free hand, the one that wasn’t folded into Alphinaud’s. “Well… you could always be wards of House Fortemps again. Or take up temporary residence with me, as I imagine Toto will be filling out the paperwork to have you as Aldynns the second she hears this wretched news.”

Alisaie squeezed Etien’s hand, and Alphinaud just looked back at her mournfully.

***

Etien had never been close with Arenvald—it was like that with many of the bearers of the Echo, she’d noticed; Etien could be friendly with them and sympathize with the struggle they shared, but something she couldn’t name stopped her from ever really opening up to them. She had never been close with Arenvald, but she could see just how hard the news of his permanent injury was hitting Alphinaud.

How many more things was he going to lose in this single swoop?

Her heart went out to him, but some vein of bitterness in her started to bleed when Alphinaud lamented that now he knew how heavy the burdens of other people’s dream were.

Nowhe knew.

And he wondered if he’d made the right choice. The slow bleed was a trickle now. Yes, well, it had been a choice for him, hadn’t it?He’d chosen to leave the rest of the Sharlayans and come to Eorzea, to squabble with Alisaie about what their grandfather had wanted and intended.

He’d chosen to… she’d chosen to leave home, too. But he didn’t have the weight of the very star’s conscription on his back with all those dreams.

Hydaelyn had roped her like a lost calf, then Lyse and Papalymo had slipped the hobble on.

The oxbow pinched and the yoke was heavy, but someone had to help Alphinaud carry the dreams he’d been entrusted. They’d come this far together, and he’d said to the Chais, they prevailed together or not at all.

And so they would do on the battlefield. She took his hand for help up onto the airship headed for Carteneau, and off they went.

***

He knew it was dangerous, when the fray pressed in around him on all sides, but Aymeric scanned the battlefield, his gaze settling on Lunar Ifrit, bold as brass and starkly purple where he wasn’t dark as the sky above them.

And zipping around the primal’s feet were streaks of blue and bronze, and dark, night-sky blue and silver.

He could almost hear them, so familiar was he with the way they fought, the sounds they would have made. Etien coming down onto her feet from a perfectly-aimed shot with a low grunt, a growl as Estinien drove his lance forward.

Aymeric couldn’t go to them, not when he was leading this squadron. But, he could do this.

“I need a contingent to break away and support the trio fighting Ifrit. Keep their Academician on his feet so he can take care of the others.”

An Adder and two Temple Knights ran from the Telotek they had been fighting, and Aymeric tried to watch out of the corner of his eye as they approached Ifrit.

Satisfied with their progress across the field, he focused once more on giving his all to subdue the Gnath before him so a porxie could set the poor thing right again.Maybe the Scions wouldn’t let Etien be selfish, but they would never be able to stop him from acting in her best interest.

And he watched her even as Estinien left her side, joining the Scions. Her face was tipped up to the sky as the purple-robed Ascian talked to her.

Whatever he said, it made her eyes narrow, her lips pursing before she bared her teeth. By the time she’d gotten control of her expression again, the Ascian was gone.

Etien looked out over the battlefield, her eyes drawn to a Durendaire shield, drawn to Ala Mhigan soldiers running across the dirt with urgency, but running to instead of from.

And then, she saw Alphinaud, struggling in his work on one of the fallen. When all he got was a death rattle of “Glory be to Garlemald,” he gave up, pounding the earth. So they regrouped with Alisaie, and approached the others.

Aymeric was standing with Hien when the metaphorical dust settled, which surprised Etien little, considering their positions as the heads of the most recent additions to the Alliance (save Ala Mhigo and now the other Allied populations of Eorzea), but it did still warm her heart to see the both of them doing all right after so hard a struggle.

And it had been. It was an overall success, yes, but plenty had been lost in the process. Prefaced by a sigh, she encouraged and agreed with Alisaie and Alphinaud, “one battle at a time, we’ll get there.”

She rubbed at her forehead, feeling a headache brewing and hoping it wasn’t Echo-related. But she dropped her hand as the sky cleared, giving them all clear view of the moon.

It was a lot like hope, wasn’t it? Sometimes it wasn’t evident—in the sky or in the hearts of the people—but it hadn’t gone away. A new phase would come and it would be seen again.

Still, seeing the signal they’d come to recognize, both Aymeric and Estinien came to Etien’s side, ready to help her however she needed to get her home in one piece. Well, “home” was to the Rising Stones; it had been made clear by the way the Scions were talking that they were going to be reconvening there, and all of them had better be there.

Estinien grumbled, but joined everyone on the Ishgardian airship, sticking close to Etien and Aymeric at the side of the ship, massaging Etien’s hand to alleviate her headache, and her wrist to soothe any nausea the flying might cause when she was already in some pain.

She leaned against the wall as the Scions talked about what came next and what they wished they could have done, most of her pain relieved now, but still so tired.

She regretted now saying that the road went ever onward, all that time ago. Had she known she was damning herself, she would have kept her mouth shut.

As the Scions dispersed, Estinien came to her side again.

“A place to settle down. Here? Hmph.” He crossed his arms, leaning next to Etien against the cool stone. “What does he think he’s talking about?”

She shrugged, smiling but looking a little helpless for an answer.

“We have ourselves quite the man.” He shook his head.

At this, Etien vigorously nodded.

“Come on, then,” he reached out to take her hand. “We had best get home to him before he starts worrying.”

As they clasped hands, her bare fingers (fingerless gloves after all) curling onto the metal of Estinien’s gauntlets, she sighed again.

“Surely it cannot be so bad to hold my hand,” he remarked over his shoulder as they walked through the Seventh Heaven.

“No. It isn’t. That one was relieved, actually.”

“Relieved?”

“I’ll be happy to have you home, Estinien.”

“I imagine Aymeric will be, too.” He tried to hide it, with snark, with his hair, but he did smile.

Etien trotted after him, telling tales of the critters here catching her off-guard, but she was trying to hide her excitement in bubbly stories.

The road may still be going on, but she was going to take this detour. She was going back home.

[yuvrajrathod4c]

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[kalyan-gullapalli]

Post # 139

A Servant of God...

On Christmas eve, 1979, the Soviet Union invaded Afghanistan. For the next 9 years, until it withdrew in 1989, Afghanistan was a daily battlefield between the Afghan mujahideen and the Soviets. The mujahideen cause was supported by a coalition led by the US, UK and other Islamic Gulf countries, which used Pakistan as a military training, espionage and infiltration base for their soldiers. So, the Khyber pass, the de-facto Pakistan-Afghanistan border, was a high activity area for that duration.

However, on 20th January, 1988, both sides decided on a ceasefire for one day, and the border was open for civilians to move between Peshawar in Pakistan and Jalalabad in Afghanistan, to allow them to attend the burial of a 98 year old man. Even visa restrictions were lifted for the day! 200,000 mourners attended his funeral in Jalalabad. His name was Abdul Gaffar Khan. He was also called Badshah Khan or Baccha Khan. And he was revered in Afghanistan as Fakhr-e-Afghan (Pride of Afghans).

Rajiv Gandhi, then Indian prime minister, broke diplomatic protocol and went to Afghanistan to attend to his burial, despite protests from Pakistan's General Zia Ul Haq. Such a privilege was offered to the likes of Heads of State only. And though this 98 year old dead man was not one, he was extremely respected and revered in India too. He was affectionately called the Sarhadi or Frontier Gandhi by Indians. In 1987, he was conferred with the prestigious Bharat Ratna by the Government of India.

And yet, from 1948 till his death in 1988, he was a citizen of Pakistan, and lived his life either in jail or in exile or in house arrest. Infact, he died in Peshawar while under house arrest.

Have you heard of him? If yes, your history is ok. If not, therein lies a tale.

Abdul Gaffar Khan was born as Baccha Khan on 6th February, 1890, in a Pashtun family hailing from Utmanzai, in the Peshawar Valley of the North West Frontier Province (NWFP) of British India. Right from his early days, he wanted to make a difference and uplift the lot of his fellow Pashtuns. And he had seen enough failed revolts against the British to realise that his path would have to be a path of social activism and reforms, not of armed activism. He focused on education. At the age of 20, he opened a mosque school in his home town of Utmanzai. Five years later, the British banned it. From age 25 to 30, he visited 500 villages in all part of the settled districts of NWFP, propagating education and social reform in Pashtuns. It was in this frenzied activity that he became known as Badshah Khan.

Very soon, Baccha Khan realised that social change was not possible without independence. So he started promoting the idea of a united, independent, secular India. In this, he was deeply influenced by and hence forged a close, spiritual relationship with Gandhiji. Both of them had a deep admiration for each other and worked together for Indian independence.

Khan Abdul Gaffar Khan pioneered the concept of non-violent mass civil disobedience amongst Pashtuns in NWFP. To this end, he founded something called Khudayi Khidmatgar - literally meaning Servants of God. They were commonly also called Red Shirts.

The Khudai Khidmatgar was founded on a belief in the power of Gandhiji's notion of Satyagraha, a form of active non-violence. He used to tell its members:

"I am going to give you such a weapon that the police and the army will not be able to stand against it. It is the weapon of the Prophet, but you are not aware of it. That weapon is patience and righteousness. No power on earth can stand against it."

The organisation recruited over 100,000 members and became legendary in opposing (and dying at the hands of) the British-controlled police and army. Khan Abdul Gaffar Khan was hence called Frontier Gandhi.

Khudai Khidmatgar worked closely with the Indian National Congress, the leading national party fighting for independence, and Bacha Khan became a hugely respected member of the INC too. In 1931 the Congress offered him the presidency of the party, but he refused saying, "I am a simple soldier and Khudai Khidmatgar, and I only want to serve."

Bacha Khan soon became a hero in a society dominated by violence. His liberal views, his unswerving faith in non-violence and obvious bravery in leading from the front led to immense respect.

Like his spiritual guru, Khan Abdul Gaffar Khan strongly opposed the idea of partition of India. By 1947, it was becoming clear that partition was inevitable and the British were proposing to give the people of NWFP the choice of joining either India or Pakistan, vide a referendum. So, seven weeks before partition, Bacha Khan, the Khudai Khidmatgars, members of the Provincial Assembly and other tribal chiefs demanded that the Pashtuns be given a choice of creating an independent state of Pashtunistan, comprising all Pashtun territories of British India, instead of being made to join either India or Pakistan. However, this demand was rejected.

The Congress party refused last minute compromises to prevent the partition, like Gandhiji's suggestion to offer the position of Prime Minister to Jinnah. As a result, Bacha Khan and his followers felt a sense of betrayal by both Pakistan and India. Bacha Khan's last words to Gandhiji and his erstwhile allies in the Congress party were: "You have thrown us to the wolves."

After independence, inspite of India's invitation to come and settle down in India, Abdul Gaffar Khan took the oath of allegiance to the new nation of Pakistan on 23 February 1948 at the first session of the Pakistan Constituent Assembly. He pledged full support to the government and attempted to reconcile with the founder of the new state Muhammad Ali Jinnah. However, people jealous of his popularity spread rumours that he wanted to assassinate Jinnah. So the reconciliation never really took off and doubts regarding his allegiance persisted.

Following this, Bacha Khan formed Pakistan's first national opposition party, in 1948 - Pakistan Azad Party. He was placed under house arrest without charge from 1948 till 1954.

In 1958, the government attempted to reconcile with him and offered him a ministry in the government. He refused. He was rearrested and remained so till his illness in 1962. That year, he was named an "Amnesty International Prisoner of the Year". 

In 1973, he was arrested again by Prime Minister Zulfiqar Ali Bhutto's government because he described it as "the worst kind of dictatorship".

In 1984, he visited India and participated in the centennial celebrations of the Indian National Congress in 1985.

In 1987, he became the first non-Indian to be awarded Bharat Ratna, India's highest civilian award.

As P.V. Narasimha Rao noted in an address to mark the centenary of Badshah Khan’s birth, he was of that generation of leaders who did not smile and wave to appease the crowds, but rather scolded them for their lapses, yet was all the more adored and applauded for it. 

This post celebrates a Khudai Khidmatgar - a servant of God - the Frontier Gandhi, Badshah Khan, Khan Abdul Gaffar Khan.

[danteriverflow]

Things to think about

Version 1

1. A Council of the Isles

The purpose is to discuss areas of shared values/interests/concerns equally. To be attended by:

UK PM (if it still exists)

Regional English representatives (perhaps North, Middle, South)

1st Minister of Scotland

1st Minister of Wales

1st Minister of NI (unless Irish unification)

Gibraltar

Channel Islands

Isle of Man

Other significant island groups. (Outer Hebrides?, Shetland, Orkney, Atlantic islands, Diego Garcia, Falklands, etc)

Representative from Republic of Ireland

2. Brexit

Create a mini common market for perishable goods (Food, Fish, agricultural products) with the EU. No quotas/tariffs. Mirroring relevant EU standards.

Create a European Citizens Card granting shared UK/EU citizenship to anyone who wanted to apply for it.

EU workers rights to be mirrored as a baseline standard.

3. MP Reform / Elections

PM to be directly elected by the public. From the majority party, no longer simply to be the leader of the majority party.1

MPs ousting a sitting PM become ineligible for reelection.

Proportional Representation for general elections.

A “None of the Above” option to be added to ballot papers.

All party names, logos and branding to be removed from ballot papers and polling stations.

Less than 75% voter turn out reduces the parliamentary term to two years.

Voting age reduced to 16 years

Parliamentary term of 4 years. (Unless voter turn out is too low)

Elections to be held on the first Sunday of June.

Referendums regarding Constitutional change can only be won if two thirds of entire electorate vote for the proposition.

Formalised, legally binding, independently set, and judged, code of conduct for MPs (with real consequences for breaking them i.e prison, entire family banned from holding public office). 2

Fixed budget for MPs offices per annum, equal to per pupil funding. No expenses at all.

Parliament/the Crown/the state to purchase offices, with living spaces above in each constituency for the sitting MP. No other accommodation is paid for by the state.

MP starting salary to be the same as the starting salary of a teacher or nurse. (Same performance related criteria used for pay rises)

Pensions and other benefits to be the same as a teacher or nurse.

During periods of parliamentary shutdown (holidays) MPs will be tasked with doing seasonal work, fruit picking, etc. Salaries withheld for non-compliance. (Added to MP code of conduct rules.)

MPs pledge allegiance to: The nation, its people and the rule of Law and not the crown.

The right to national self-determination.

MPs barred from using social media.

MP's with external interests (must be declared, code of conduct) are banned for participating in votes and discussions where that interest is pertinent.

4. House of Lords Reform3

Creation of the title “Lord Senator” for people who will sit as the second chamber.

Limited to 99 people who hold the title for 3 years.

They must have demonstrable expertises in a specific field. (Science, medicine, law, education, commerce, etc.)

They may be reselected to sit for a further 3 years.

They will be nominated by a cross party committee and voted on by 101 (this number could larger if desired) randomly chosen (jury service style) “Citizen Electors”.

Traditional honours will still be awarded but only public nominations for those honours will be considered. Political donors will automatically be exempted from ever receiving an honour (honours will be stripped from political donors).

Titles bestowed will be honorary and receive no state funding or benefits. Titles may not be used as name salutations. These honours will be removed publicly for misconduct.

5. Party Funding

Political donations to be taxed at 60% over £5000

Donations may only come from tax paying, resident British Citizens.

End of Non-Dom status. Holders of UK birth certificate pay UK taxes regardless of where they live.

Publicly searchable database to be created for donors. (Who they are, where they are based, tax status, how much they have donated etc.)

All donations to be collected together and distributed equitably amongst all parties.

All political party’s must have a leader elected directly by its members.

6. Education

All schools become Free Schools. Academies abolished.

Eton to be closed and burnt to the ground.

All schools to have a board of governors made up of staff, parents, local officials, and community people to hold school leadership to account.

LEA to resume it’s old purpose, but without responsibility for standards.

Schools to, once again, receive their budget in one lump sum.

Academy Trust leadership to be disbarred from school leadership/OfSTED and lesser roles in schools will be highly controlled and limited in scope.

OfSTED to be scrapped and remade.

No notice of visit

No fixed length of visit

Old grading to be scrapped and replaced with 5 star ratings for multiple specific areas.

All teachers to be observed for 1 full teaching lesson, but not personally graded or evaluated.

Inspectors must hold the rank of Deputy Head or higher with a minimum 10 years classroom teaching experience.

Teachers will be chosen at random to become inspectors for one school inspection.

OfSTED to publish no documentation/guidance except the inspection report.

Privatised exam boards to be scrapped and replaced by a single national system.

Academic qualifications set by professional academic bodies (universities or Royal institutes)

Vocational qualifications to be set by trade guilds so training and qualifications are relevant to their field.

Students will have a mixed experience of academic/vocational education set to their needs and aspirations.

Students will develop a personal record of achievement. School achievements, exam grades, work experience, outside experiences (scouts/guides, coaching, sport achievements, Music, etc). All has equal weight.

What students do after they have finished compulsory education will be used to help parents' evaluate a school's performance.

Primary schools will focus on Literacy, Numeracy and the joy of learning.

Primary schools to include nature awareness. Plants, animals, trees. Camping trips, rambling, community allotments.

All student's learn a foreign language and offered the chance to participate in a student exchange program.

7. Monarchy4

Monarch would be retained, but stripped of all divinity/superiority.

They will be trained from birth to be head of state.

The extended family will not receive any titles, state funds, assistance or grace and favour lodgings.

The bells and whistles pageantry will be reduced to a basic minimum. Maybe keep some of it for the tourists.

8. Policing

A small national police force to deal with terrorism, organised crime, people smuggling - Pan-national crime.

County Constabularies to focus on local issues. Petty crime, cats up trees.

Police Stations to be closed and replaced with Tardis style community based police boxes.

Police Constables to spend all their time out in the community.

Interviews of suspects to occur with independent public observation.

Detention cells will not be under police control.

De-militarisation of Police uniforms. Return to more traditional uniforms.

No guns, no tasers.

Police to be trained in non lethal de-escalation techniques.

Soldiers serving in the armed forces will be looked after for life. Housing, physical care and mental health, transition from soldier to civilian. Their partners and children under 18 will also be looked after.

Instead of going to war the leaders of each country must fight each other one-on-one. The winner is victorious, no reprisals. Legally binding contract/treaty to be agreed before hand.

Crime and punishment will be separated.

Parliament decides what types of activity are criminal.

Parliament decides what types of "punishment" are available.

Courts decide if the evidence presented proves the accused is guilty of what they have been accused.

Courts decide what sentence is appropriate for that person from the punishments available.

"Punishment" should not be vindictive but to prevent recidivism.

If an activity becomes de-criminalised those already serving a sentence for that crime are immediately released from that sentence.

9. Housing

Buy-to-let mortgages to be abolished. If you can’t afford to own it outright you can’t afford to rent it out.

Rent to be capped at 60% of the equivalent monthly mortgage payments. If the mortgage was £1000 per month the maximum rent you can charge is £600 pounds in total for the property, not per person.

Minimum rental duration to be 5 years. Short term rentals will be called hotels.

Long term rentals (20+years) will be offered the chance to take ownership. Sale price minus the total rent paid.

All homes built will be council owned.

Council houses sold must be returned to council ownership for price paid, not market value, if less than 20 years has passed since sale.

Houses to be sold by the square metre, not by number of bedrooms. To aid comparison.

10. Environment / Economy / Society

Solar panels on the roof of every public building.

Smaller wind turbines added to lamp posts along motorways.

Companies selling products that use excessive/unnecessary plastic packaging taxed more.

More community green spaces in housing areas.

Switch farming from animal to cereal/vegetable.

Phase out large Power Stations, replace with smaller less damaging ones.

Better recycling/reuse for more types of materials.

More clothing reuse/recycling.

Abolish crypto currencies/Bitcoin.

Find a better alternative to petrol and electric cars.

Balance should be created between work and home life.

Plant more fruit trees in public areas.

Transform the economy from growth driven to sustainability. Stop keep making stuff just to sell just to keep profits increasing.

Job security. Happy, nurtured people work better/harder and more productively. Also get ill less.

Allow people space for personal development. Passive skills enrich life and work. Motherhood/maternity (and paternity) leave should not be seen as a hinderance but an asset to a company. The skills developed raising a child are huge.

Life is for people. Take the people out of a business and the business disappears. Get rid of the business and the people are still there.

All life is valid.

The right to personal self-identification. (Yes, you can identify as a panda, if you so wish)

Universal Basic Income £12,000 per year5

Homeless people are to be provide with a proper home to live in, paid work tending outdoor public spaces, community projects or something more suitable is provided (only to provide up-to-date work experience and references).

Big tech companies to be tax properly on revenue raised from UK income.

Social media users get 15% cut of the money made from selling their data.

Small businesses (revenue under £2 million) pay no tax.

Software sold as subscription must also have a one off payment standalone version for sale.

Subscription services must offer a free, entry level tier where no credit card is needed for signup.

Electronic equipment must be 3rd party repairable.

Subscriptions can be terminated by the customer at any time by writing to the company regardless of how close you are to a renewal period. Failure of the company to comply results in all the money you have ever paid them being refunded to you.

Private companies operating public services may continue to do so but will pay the state 60% of all profits for the privilege. No tax payers money will be handed over to them. Debts incurred will be their own.

Banks will never be bailed out. People's savings up to £150,000 guaranteed.

Separate interest rates for borrowing and saving.

Savings interest rates will be tiered:

10% - £1 to £10,000

5% - £10,001 to £50,000

1% - £50,001 to £100,000

0.5% - £100,001 to £500,000

0.01% - £500,001 to £999,999

-10% - £1,000,000 and over

Redundancies start at the top. CEOs/management get cut first. The people who caused the problems should be punished before those who have no power in an organisation.

Fire and rehire abolished.

Terminally ill patients have the right to end their life on their own terms.

Colonial artefacts held in museums to be duplicated and returned to place of origin, if place of origin want them back.6

Complete global nuclear disarmament.

Notes

P.S.

Tumblr and webbrowsers don't always render markdown as expected, sorry. Footnonte links aren't seeming to work.

A list of candidates from each political party (3 per party) will accompany the ballot paper. The voter would choose one person from each political party they would prefer to be Prime Minister in the event that that party won. (Majority vote wins) ↩︎

13 Citizen Electors will be randomly (and secretly) chosen to evaluate if the accusations breach the code. The accused will remain anonymous to the Electors. ↩︎

I like the idea that people who know what they are talking about (experts) can examine the full ramifications of laws and how those laws will impact upon their field without needing to appeal to, or worry about, populism to win an election. ↩︎

The only reason not to go full republic is to stop the likes of Nigel Farridge, Boris Johnson or some other rightwing twonk or Neo Nazi lording it over us. ↩︎

Available to anyone over the age of 21 with at least 5 years National Insurance contributions (voluntary work, work experience, Saturday jobs, and apprenticeships are valid). Available to anyone who applies for it. No other state money will be received - no job seekers, housing benefits, pensions, working tax credits etc. £12,000 per year is all you get. This should make government expenditure simple because all you need to know is the number of people over 21 multiplied by £12,000. ↩︎

Items we would like to keep will either be bought at market value or leased from country of origin. ↩︎