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[chunghasweetie]

𝐈 𝐆𝐎𝐓 𝐈𝐓 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋, 𝐎𝐇 𝐈 𝐆𝐎𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 | J.JK

— pairing | assistant!oc x flirty boss!jjk

— summary | jungkook’s assistant (you) finally admits her feelings for him

— warning | bad writing (i’m doing my best)

protected sex, dirty talk, cursing, praising kink, adult dialogue, work affairs

— word count | 5.0k words

— song suggestion | the party & the after party— the weeknd

“You look very nice Y/n.” He opened the door for her.

“I have the prettiest assistant in the industry.“ He bit his lip, linking arms with her as the two entered the business party together.

The two were always together. Every day for hours upon hours.

She had been working for the CEO of Jeon Industries for the past 4 years.

It was another night of being with him. This time she was accompanying him to a business party at some mansion in the east.

“Thank you Mr. Jeon.” She thanked him.

She had went all out tonight. How could she not with the amount of luxury outfits and accessories he supplied her with?

She was an ambassador on the side for many different high end fashion companies.

Dior. Prada. Chanel.

All because of Jungkook.

He always helped represent her from the start. The second he laid eyes on her, he knew she couldn’t let all her beauty go to waste.

He pushed hard for her to rep these brands, knowing well she deserved to have every opportunity out there.

She was an extremely hard worker too, sending her to anyone was a true gift.

Tonight she was dripped out in Chanel from head to toe.

She wore a vintage black and gold Chanel couture dress paired with matching gold heels.

Her entire look was priceless.

He supplied with her with everything simply because he wanted to.

Y/n was too independent from the get go, and Jungkook wanted her to understand what it’s like to be truly taken care of.

Although Y/n worked for Jungkook, she was almost on his level of fame by her success that came naturally after he got her name out there.

Many rumors speculated that she slept her way to the top but, the rumors couldn’t be more untrue.

Jungkook was obsessed with this woman.

Repeatedly asking her if she was interested in him. He was constantly offering himself out to her.

He flirted with Y/n every day. It wasn’t enough to bother her. They were comfortable enough to where she could reject him over and over.

He understood her rejections. She was afraid how others viewed her. How if they ever broke up, it could make her entire career plummet to the bottom.

His eyes roamed over her figure, taking in the way the dress hugged her curves, the way her heels made her legs seem to go on forever.

He couldn't help but let out a low whistle. “That dress really working for you. Glad I spent the money.”

“I appreciate it Mr. Jeon.” She thanked him once more.

Y/n was absolutely gorgeous and every investor and supervisor at the party turned their head when she entered with Jungkook.

He noticed the way everyone was gawking at her and he couldn't help but smirk.

He was used to this. She was a prize and knew that all too well.

Y/n was his, and his alone.

He hated how oblivious she was. She didn’t think of herself to be this powerful woman.

She thought of herself as average, which could make Jungkook grow insane.

There was no way she was serious.

“Can you feel all the eyes on you?” He whispered to her.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. They’re greeting us. This is just business matters and nothing more.” She replied, straight faced.

He chuckled, shaking his head. “You're right, of course. Business first.”

He led Y/n through the crowd, making his way to the group of investors.

But as he walked, he couldn't help but place a hand on the small of her back, enough to display a slight sense of possession.

She went around with him, introducing herself as well to all of Jungkook’s business partners and potential partners.

He watched her, impressed by her confidence and grace as she charmed each and every one the important people.

“All these years and you’re still so good at talking for me.” He said, leaning in close to her so that only she could hear him.

“Of course. We’ve been doing this for years.” Y/n replied.

A small smile appeared on his lips as he imagined the number of times she must have helped him in his business ventures.

“And hopefully for more.” He muttered under his breath, before straightening up and clearing his throat.

“Can I get you anything to drink Mr. Jeon?”She offered.

He chuckled at her formality, but he couldn't help the way his heart fluttered at the sound of his title.

“Yes, please. He said, before taking a moment to decide. A glass of whiskey would be nice.” He instructed.

“Yes Sir.” Y/n nodded, walking off and requesting him a drink at the open bar.

Once his drink was finished she walked back over to him, handing his drink over.

“Go get yourself something.” He told her.

“I’m fine.”

“Go. I know you’ve been craving a glass of rosè.”

“Fine.” Y/n finally gave in, heading back over to the open bar.

Finally having her glass filled, she started to head back over to him.

Before she could start to Jungkook, she was stopped by one of the executives.

“Excuse me, Ms. Y/n was it?” He stopped her. “I was wondering if you had a minute.”

She didn’t look up, not expecting to start a conversation.

“Yes, I’m Y/n. I actually have to head back to my boss I’m sorry.” She began to walk but he stepped in front of her.

“It’ll only be a second. I’m Kim Namjoon.” The man spoke. “I just have a proposal for you.”

Her eyes flickered upwards. She locked eyes with the man, surprised someone so high up had an interest in speaking to her.

“You’re Kim Namjoon from Kim&Kim.” She rose her eyebrow. “What kind of proposal are you talking about? I’ll go get Ju—“

“This isn’t for Jungkook,” Namjoon shook his head. “It’s is for you.”

“Me?” She looked at him in confusion.

Jungkook's eyes narrowed as he watched the executive checking her out, his grip on his glass of whiskey tightening.

He downed it in one swift motion before stalking over to where she was, his eyes flashing with possessiveness.

He was watching this entire conversation go down.

“You don’t need to answer me now but,” He began. “I’m in desperate need of a new assistant. You’re one of the best assistants in the industry and I need you— bad. Whatever Jungkook is paying you, I’m offering you tripple the amount.”

Y/n stood there in utter shock. Her mouth was agape and she couldn’t say anything.

Jungkook could almost choke.

The nerve of this guy.

Jungkook's expression darkened as the man offered her the position and a much larger salary.

He could see the hesitation in her eyes as she took the card, and he couldn't help but feel a small surge of fear that he would lose her to someone else.

Maybe she was truly considering.

Jungkook was imagining everything he’d ever done with her.

Did he push her too much?

Was she overwhelmed?

Did she feel underpaid?

‘There’s no way’ He thought to himself.

“Like I said,” Namjoon was handing her his business card. “You don’t need to answer me now but, just think about it. You’ll be rich and you’ll have a lot more of those luxury companies to add to your collection.”

“Thank you for your time.” She simply nodded, biding her goodbyes before heading back to Jungkook. “Sorry that took so long.”

Jungkook watched Y/n return, his expression unreadable as he took in her words and the lingering scent of another man on her.

Namjoon’s cologne was annoyingly contagious.

He couldn't help but feel a surge of jealousy as he reached out to grab her wrist, his grip firm but gentle.

“Is there an issue Mr. Jeon?” She looked down, feeling his grip.

“Come on.” He walked her over to the balcony outside, where the two could be more secluded.

He pulled her closer, his voice low and husky as he leaned in, his breath hot against her ear.

"I think you know exactly what the issue is. It’s us.” He whispered. “I heard Namjoon.”

“What about it?”

His hand tightened around her waist, his thumb pressing into the small of her back as he held her close.

"You know damn well what I'm talking about, Y/n. That exec trying to poach you.”his voice was a low growl, laced with greed.

You weren’t for sale, why would Namjoon pull such a stunt?

Y/n sighed. “I didn’t want to be rude. So I took Namjoon’s business card.”

Jungkook's eyes flashed with irritation, but he controlled himself, not wanting to make a scene. “But you didn’t throw it away. So you’re thinking about his proposal.

“Mr. Jeon like I said, let’s keep this professional. I believe your personal feelings are getting in the way.” She replied. “I was being respectful.”

"I don't give a damn about professionalism right now, Y/n," he said, his voice strained as he struggled to keep his composure.

Her eyes widened. “Like I said, I just took the card to be respectful. I didn’t have any intention behind it.”

Jungkook's jaw clenched, his eyes narrowing as he studied her face.

"Then why did I catch you staring at him for an uncomfortably long time?" he asked, his voice low and suspicious.

“Oh my gosh Mr. Jeon. It’s called eye contact. This really shouldn’t matter.” She grew irritated with him.

Jungkook's grip on her waist loosened, but he still didn't let go.

"It does matter to me," he said, his voice softer now. "You know I don't like it when other men look at you."

“This is a work setting Mr. Jeon. In order to do my job I must conversate with many men. Can we drop this now? Please?” She begged.

Jungkook's expression darkened a little at the sound of her calling him Mr. Jeon, but he otherwise seemed to calm down at her words.

"Fine," he said curtly, letting go of her waist and taking a step back. "Just... don’t consider his offer too much. I just— I don’t know what I’d do without you."

Y/n swallowed. “Okay Mr. Jeon.”

He reached out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "Come on, let's get out of here," he said, his voice gentler now. "My treat.”

“But what about the business party? Shouldn’t we stay longer?” She blinked.

Jungkook shrugged. "They'll manage without us," *he said. "It's been a long day and I'm sure you're over all these people."

He reached out a hand towards her, a slightly pleading look on his face. "Please, come on.”

“Okay.” She gave in. She bid her goodbyes to whoever the two walked by as they strutted to the exit.

Jungkook smiled when she agreed and said nothing as she bid her goodbyes.

He was leading her out of the party, opening the door for her to get in the company car.

She took a seat on the other side of him, answering work emails on her phone the second she got inside.

That girl could work. She was always working.

Jungkook admired how driven she was.

"Are you hungry?" he asked, his voice low and warm. “Because I am.”

“Me too.” She nodded.

Jungkook smiled at her response. "Good," he said, before leaning close, his lips brushing against her ear.

"Because I'm taking you to the best bar in the city." His tone, though husky, gave her assurance of his sincerity. “Not letting that dress go to waste.”

“You don’t need to do that.” Y/n objected.

“I want to," Jungkook said, his eyes flicking up to finally meet hers, a serious expression on his face.

"You know I like spoiling you." He placed a gentle hand on her thigh before leaning back to give her some space.

She knew there was no point in arguing with him. “Alright.

As much as she rejected him, she didn’t mind how touchy he was with her.

Y/n definitely could admit she liked it.

Jungkook's eyes lit up at her acquiescence, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips.

"That's my girl," he said, his hand squeezing her thigh affectionately before releasing it to recline back in the seat. "We'll be there soon."

Once they arrived at the bar, Jungkook went around, opening the door for her as she got out of the car.

“That dress is really working for you.” He bit his lip. “Have I mentioned that?”

Y/n chuckled, walking with him inside. “You have.”

Although she was hearing these flirtatious words everyday, she couldn’t help but blush at the constant compliments from her boss.

Once they took a seat and ordered a few drinks they got to talking.

They went to discussing random business deals and even going off topic and speaking about their personal lives.

“I never thought I’d have to spend so much time with someone because of my job. I thought I would hire many men as my assistant and sectaries but you’re all I’ve ever needed.” He told her.

“I didn’t think I’d ever have the honor of working for someone so head strong and successful” She laughed. “And for these many years.”

Jungkook smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "You know, you're the best assistant I could've ever asked for," he said, his hand finding its way to her thigh once more. "I don't know what I'd do without you.”

“I don’t actually know what Id do without you either. I was in such a rough spot when I got hired…” She trailed off.

Jungkook's grip on her thigh tightened, his thumb rubbing small circles on her skin.

"I'm glad I could help, even if it was just giving you a position," he said, his voice low and husky. "But it's not just about the job, is it?

“What do you mean?”

Jungkook's gaze met hers, his eyes filled with a fiery intensity. "You know what I mean," he said, his grip on her thigh tightening even more.

"I think it's more than just a boss-assistant relationship between us." He brought up once more.

“You keep saying this.” She sighed.

“I’ve built up my career Mr. Jeon. I can’t fraternitize with the one guy who could ruin my life in seconds all because we stupidly decided to date.” She shook her head.

Jungkook's grip on her thigh loosened a little, his gaze dropping to the ground.

He nodded solemnly. "I understand your concerns. I do." He paused for a moment before continuing. "But please don't think of it as stupid.”

“How can I not? Say we decide to be official. How do you think that makes me look? What if we get into an argument and I lose my job? What if someone accuses me of sleeping to get the job?” She rambled.

Jungkook's expression hardened, his jaw clenching. "I'd never let anything happen to you, do you understand that?"

He reached out, his hand cupping her cheek. "You're more than just an assistant. You're... so fucking special to me."

“I don’t know still Jungkook. This could ruin everything.”

Jungkook's gaze softened as he looked at her. He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against her ear.

"Don't worry about a thing. I'll protect you, no matter what happens." He whispered. "Let me take care of everything. Trust me."

“I—“

He interrupted. “Whatever he offered you, I’ll pay more. So much more. I’ll give you whatever the hell you want. I’ll do whatever you ask me too.”

“You don’t have to date me Y/n. I’ll stop flirting with you forever,” He continued, “Just please, don’t accept Namjoon’s proposal.”

Y/n exhaled, finally giving into him after all that time.

“I want to give us a chance.”

Jungkook’s ears perked up, the last line he’d be expecting from her.

“What?”

“I’ve always been attracted to you but I’ve pushed it all to the side so we can work as normal but— I’m wiling to try with you.”

His heart felt like it was beating out of his chest.

“You’re serious?” He was choked up, jittery from how worked up her reply made him.

“More than serious.”

“Oh Y/n you have no fucking clue how long I’ve been wanting to hear that.” He hurriedly rushed her out of the restaurant, almost pushing her into the car.

She was giggling in the backseat. Jungkook was kissing all up on her, mumbling sweet sayings into her ears.

He couldn’t believed this was real— that it all unfolded in seconds.

After asking asking and asking. She finally agreed.

She wanted to give them a try, just like he always desired.

He couldn't believe he finally had her in his arms.

The smile plastered on his face could be seen from miles away. He smiled against her skin, unable to allow it to fade.

Jungkook's hands were exploring her body as he kissed her and made his way down her neck.

He sucked on her neck, leaving a mark as he did. "Fuck, I can’t stop kissing you." He growled into her ear.

“You’re a really good kisser.” She couldn’t help but chuckle. “Can’t wait until we get to your penthouse.”

Jungkook grinned, his eyes shining with excitement. "I can't wait either." He replied.

"I'm going to show you how bad I’ve feigned you." He nibbled on her ear.

Before the couple knew it, the vehicle had already been passed security and pulled up to Jungkook’s place.

Jungkook guided her out of the backseat, helping her onto the ground.

He took hold of her, leading her into his luxurious penthouse.

He shut the door behind them and immediately pulled her into his arms, kissing her passionately.

"Finally all to myself." He murmured against her lips.

She was easily able to keep up with his demanding kisses.

He had her brain cloudy and unable to be her usual rational self.

His kisses and touches had her in a daze. She was burning for him.

“Y-Your room already. Please— I’m trying to be a lady but It’s so hard” She mumbled against his lips, almost ashamed of the words she spoke.

He had been chasing after her for years. Now they switched.

Jungkook chuckled, a deep, husky sound. "Shit baby. I didn’t think you’d get like this. I didn’t know I was this good." He boasted, nipping at her bottom lip.

"You're such a naughty girl. I’m barely doing shit and you’re already a mess." He picked her up, her legs wrapping around his waist as he carried her towards his bedroom.

She was a shy mess, embarrassed at so easily he was able to unfold her.

Her bashful expression wasn’t easy to hide, and Jungkook took notice almost instantly.

Jungkook laid her down on his bed, climbing on top of her. "You have nothing to be embarrassed about." He comforted, tenderly brushing a strand of hair away from her face.

"I love how you respond to me." He kissed her again, slow and deep.

She kissed him back eagerly, smacking her lips against his. “It’s embarrassing. I haven’t been with anyone in—“

“Years. I know.” He interrupted, chuckling. “You’ve been too busy with me.”

"Don't worry about any of that." He flipped her around, pushing her face down onto the bed.

"You're with me now." He whispered, slowly lifting up her dress.

Jungkook couldn't help but smirk at the sight of her.

“Oh look at you.” He breathed out.

Her panties were practically stuck to her pussy like glue. Her pool of wetness making a statement on her panties.

"All this and I haven’t even touched it yet." He smirked, running a finger along the seam of her panties.

"I should take these off huh baby?" He slowly pulled them down her legs.

“Gonna taste you first.” He bit his lip, examining her panties before having his eyes locked on her plump and glistening pussy. “Is that alright?”

“P-Please. Now.”

“What was that sweetheart?” He taunted.

“Jungkook please eat it already.” She turned her head slightly to look at him, humiliated that she was so desperate for him like this.

“So needy.” He teased.

He couldn't help but smirk at her words, he wasted no time in doing as she said.

He spread her legs apart and started lavishing her pussy with his tongue.

Her body instantly retracted at the pleasure, a gasp leaving her lips.

Jungkook couldn't help but chuckle at her reaction, he continued to eat her pussy, determined to make her cum on his tongue.

He reached up with one hand and started rubbing circles aroundz

He went stupid on her pussy, licking and sucking on her clit.

“Jungkook you’re so good with your mouth.” She muttered out, barely able to speak by how distracted his tongue made her.

Jungkook looked up at her, his eyes gleaming with desire as he continued to pleasure her.

"Mmm, you're so fucking sweet." He murmured against her pussy, his tongue delving deeper into her folds. "I could eat you out all day."

“D-Don’t say that.” She swallowed, his claims made her blush even harder.

He continued to eat her out, his tongue expertly flicking over her clit as he watched her reactions. "But it's true. You're so fucking beautiful and delicious.”

“I need to make you cum over and over again.” He continued. “Until my fucking jaw snaps. You taste so fucking good it’s addicting.”

She was already feeling the pressure in her lower body build up, the orgasm rushing through her.

“Jungkook I’m close.” She whined.

“Let go baby.” He continued working her pussy. “All over my mouth.”

It didn’t take long for her to do so, thighs clenching together before releasing herself all over his tongue.

Jungkook groaned against her as he tasted her, sucking and licking up every last drop.

"Fuck." He looked down at her with a satisfied grin. "I think I'll have to make you cum every day now. I seriously can’t get enough of this shit.”

Jungkook helped her get into a more comfortable position, allowing her arched back to rest.

She took initiative, eagerly kissed him the second he looked away.

He couldn’t help but smirk into her mouth, his tongue slipping into her mouth to taste herself.

Not that it would stop her.

He pulled back and looked down at her again. “You’re a lot dirtier than I thought Ms. Y/n.” He chuckled.

“I just didn’t realize how much— how bad— I needed you.” She admitted.

"You needed me?" Jungkook asked, his voice low and husky.

He reached up to brush a strand of hair out of her face, his fingers grazing her cheek.

"You're mine now, aren't you? You need me to take care of you? I’ll do just that.” He pecked her lips.

He got up from the bed, walking over to his large closet.

He searched an empty shoebox, before finding what he needed.

He strides back over to his bed. “Condom. Just forgot.” He pecked her lips once more.

“Need you missionary tonight baby. I’m trying to be a gentleman.” He smiled smugly.

She didn’t say anything, slithering the condom from his fingertips.

She maintained eye contact with him, tearing the package open with her teeth.

“May I?” She placed her hands on his belt buckle, “Please.”

“Fuck. You’re gonna make this so hard.” He cussed. “Put it on.”

She hurriedly unbuckled his belt, sliding his pants down and pulling out his cock from his boxers.

She gasped.

It caught her so off guard. She didn’t think he looked like that at all.

Now she knew why he talked a big game about his dick.

The boasting and bragging finally made sense to her.

“You okay?” He chuckled. “Just noticed the rumors were true hm?”

She nodded quietly.

“It’s all yours Y/n.” He hummed. “Slip it on. I’m aching right now.”

She nodded, snapping out of her trance. She slid the thin material onto his length, trying to hide the enthusiasm displayed on her face.

Once the condom fit comfortably on his dick, he laid the girl on her back.

He positioned himself between her legs, double checking her comfort before his own.

She looked up, staring at him hovering over her. She had a blush spread across her cheeks. “I’m loving the view right now.”

Jungkook chuckled, pleased by her admiring gaze. "I'm glad you finally like what you see, baby.”

“But I definitely have the better view. You're gorgeous, all flushed and spread out for me." He hummed.

She giggled in response, too flushed to continue.

Jungkook grinned and slowly pushed inside her, savoring the tight heat enveloping his cock.

“Oh fuck,” He cussed, not expecting her to be so tight after what he already did to her.

“Fuck, you feel amazing." He started to move, thrusting steadily in and out of her. "So wet and tight for me... shit I can’t think.”

He was finally inside of her and she felt even better that he had ever imagined. He fit inside her like a missing puzzle piece.

“Fuck Jungkook.” She whispered out his name, still adjusting to him.

“Y/n... fuck... so good..." He panted, his eyes locked on hers as he started to move more urgently, driven by the intense pleasure of finally being deep inside her.

"You were made for me, weren't you? This sweet pussy, it's mine now. Isn’t it Y/n?” He panted.

“Mm fuck- all yours Jungkook” She nodded vigorously. “Shit that’s good.”

Jungkook groaned, feeling her tighten around him even more. "That's it, baby, take my cock... milk it."

He pistoned into her harder and faster, the bed creaking with the force of their movements. "You love this dick, do you baby?“

”Y-Yes I-I do” She swallowed, body working up a sweat at the heat.

“Such a pretty girl. Had to beat my dick to the idea of this for years.” Jungkook growled, his grip on her hips tightening as he drove into her harder and faster.

"You make it so worth it. So fucking worth it." He went on.

“Jungkook you’re making me feel so good— never had dick like this” She hiccuped.

Jungkook smirked, his hands running up and down her body possessively. "Gonna get dick like this for the rest of your fucking life."

He grunted, thrusting deeper. "No other man will ever touch you like I do, make you cum like I do.”

She was in a crazed and corrupt state of mind.

It’s like he hit the right spots instantly.

“Shit.” She cussed, knowing damn well he was right.

He fucked her so good she probably wouldn’t be able to get the same sensation from anyone but him.

“So hard to fuck you like a gentleman.” He began, “Shits too fucking hard.”

“No one fucking told you to.” She growled, “Need more. I don’t care how you do it.”

Jungkook chuckled, leaning down to whisper in her ear. "Not at all?”

“Not at all.” She bit her lip, smirking.

He easily noticed the glimmer in her eyes when she agreed, and he knew just where to go from there.

His dirty words were ones out of a romance novel. She didn’t even know real men even acted like this.

She didn’t complain.

He worshipped her body in no way she thought anyone could.

When she became devoted to being single, she thought her vibrator could be the only thing to ever make her cum.

Now she knew she was wrong.

And to throw that shit away.

"Such a dirty girl. All mine." His hand reached down to squeeze her throat in a dominant gesture, knowing she liked it. "You take dick so well babe."

“All for you.” She answered. She didn’t realize how easy it would be for him to turn her out but she wasn’t complaining.

"My girl." He praised, rewarding her with a particularly hard thrust that made her gasp.

"Now come for me baby. I’m fucking close and I need you to cum with me." His hand slid between their bodies to rub her clit, determined to make her cum on his cock too.

“Can you feel how close I am?” He almost let out a whimper in her ear. “I’m so lost inside you.”

“Y-Yes.” She replied to the lewd plea, “Mm close too”

“I feel it pretty girl I feel it.” His voice soothed her. “Shit shit”

He fucked her good until he could feel her orgasm reach its peak.

Soon after he quickly pulled out, cumming on her stomach.

He collapsed right beside of her, panting and cussing as he tried to catch his breath.

Jungkook lay beside her, still trying to catch his breath as he stared at the sight of her cum-covered stomach.

"You're so fucking beautiful," he said in a rough voice.

Jungkook got up, wiping himself off before returning to the bed with a warm towel.

He gently cleaned her up, taking his time to ensure he didn't miss a spot.

He used the rest of his energy to clean her up.

Once done, he tossed the towel aside and laid back down beside her, wrapping his arm around her waist.

She pecked his cheeks and lips happily and satisfied. “So much for trying to be cute and romantic tonight.”

Jungook chuckled and pulled her closer, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

"We'll have plenty of time for romance later, babe," He laughed. “Isn’t it better for us to get comfortable like this now? You already know everything about me.”

“That’s true.”

“I thought I knew everything about you.” He stared into her.

“What do you mean?” She furrowed her eyebrows.

“I didn’t know you were a fucking freak!” He laughed. “All conservative and shy… You’re a fake. You’re a fucking sex maniac I’m appalled.”

He put his hand on his chest. “You had me fooled.”

“Oh my gosh.” She rolled her eyes.

“Don’t give me that. I’m not the fake. I’m very open with how I am.” He shook his head.

“I hate you.”

“No. You like me.” A stupid grin was spread on his face. “Finally.”

[lunarmoves]

you were lost in this stupidly large facility with nothing but a fucking shovel for defense.

you could feel the sweat building up on your palms underneath your black gloves as they gripped tightly onto the shovel's handle. feel the way your baby hairs stuck to the back of your neck and the way your skin crawled like there were hundreds of insects burrowed underneath it. you swallowed heavily and blinked widely in a vain attempt to see through the stifling darkness that wrapped around you in an endless blanket.

you should've never taken this job. your flashlight had ran out of power a while ago to your chagrin. the company couldn't even have been assed to give your team decent fucking supplies for your first assignment and you were all stuck with them until you raised enough money to purchase better ones. you could feel your resolve crumbling the longer you crept your way through what seemed like an infinite loop of concrete rooms. listening raptly for the sound of foreign footsteps trailing after you.

silence, thick and foreboding. then, quiet—so quiet it was almost nonexistent—there was the soft chime of a bell.

fuck, it was still following you.

you glanced quickly over your shoulder. you couldn't make anything out through your suit's mask. you knew, however, that it was only an illusion of solitude.

in this abandoned, alien facility, you were anything but alone.

you clenched your jaw and pressed forward, your steps light and careful. god forbid you stepped on a landmine and blew your legs clean off. or on some random toy and it made enough noise to attract another one of those stupid, deadly creatures. it was difficult though, so fucking difficult. you were running on pure luck, but even then, you weren't entirely sure how long it would last. the oppressive vantablack around you was starting to make you feel hopeless.

you glanced at the time through your suit's h.u.d. 10:24 p.m. you took in a deep breath and did your best to settle the way your heart pounded in your chest. at midnight, the ship's autopilot would force it to leave, regardless of whether you were on it or not. you wondered if the rest of your team was in the building looking for you, or if they thought you were already dead.

you hadn't been notified of the ship leaving yet, though, so you were holding on by a sliver.

another soft chime sounded from behind you. your lips trembled slightly. you pressed them together for a moment and slowly made your way around a corner. another dark hallway. you could barely make out the gleam of steam pipes along the walls. you shifted the shovel in your hand, your steps feather light as you walked with your knees slightly bent.

whatever was following closely behind you had been doing so for the last hour—silent enough that no matter how much you strained your ears or stilled your breaths, you couldn't hear anything apart from the occasional jingle. it was anyone's guess what creature it was that resided in this hellish building. you certainly didn't remember reading about anything capable of making bell sounds in the database.

god, you were going to fucking die in here, weren't you? everything looked the same and you weren't sure when the alien behind you would attack once it got tired of following you. biting your lip, you focused on what was in front of you for now. falling into despair would only make you feel worse.

another corner. there was the gleam of a door to your right. your heart seemed to leap in your chest and you quickly darted over to it so you could wrench it open. it was still dark, but as you stepped forward, you heard your boots land on metal that echoed around the room. you walked forward and realized that there was light—dim, extremely dim light—coming from above. barely illuminating a grated staircase. that was good—stairs were good! you were making progress!

you beelined straight for the upwards staircase, your steps like a metronome as you steadily climbed them. clang clang clang clang. your surroundings got brighter the higher you went and you could feel a light sense of relief and elation begin to wash over you. freedom was at the tips of your fingers.

below you, there was a jingle. and you knew ignoring it was the move, but something in the back of your mind itched in morbid curiosity. a glance was all you needed to add its information to the database, now that you could see a bit better. it would be beneficial, in the long term. you bit at your lower lip and felt your steps slow down just a tad.

and then you looked down, like a fool.

on the staircase directly underneath you, there was a figure that blended into the shadows—a navy blue tinge to its body that was so dark it was nearly black. it was lanky and lithe, with uncanny elongated limbs attached to an almost emaciated body. your breathing cut out as your h.u.d. circled the being in red and updated the database automatically, but you barely registered anything.

the figure was looking right up at you. a wide smile leered at you with sharp, needle-like teeth and ruby-colored eyes that glowed like a warning sign.

yeah. no. fuck that.

you couldn't get out of there fast enough, darting the rest of the way up the stairs until you reached a landing with a door. you slammed it open, then closed it behind you, breathing harsh and heavy enough that it fogged up the inside of your mask. you didn't dare linger, squeezing your hands around your stupid shovel as you walked onward and quickly analyzed where you were.

more rooms. more corridors. you gritted your teeth. it was endless. your only consolation were the lights that were attached to the walls and ceilings—widely interspersed, but at least you could see. you listened carefully for any sounds of a door creaking open behind you, wondering if that thing was still shadowing you like some strange, gaunt ghost. nothing so far. maybe you could breathe a bit easier.

you checked the time again. 10:57 p.m. shit, shit. you were going to cut things close if you didn't get a move on. you started to lightly jog, panic creeping its way through your veins. you were so close, you were so close! all you had to do was find a fire exit or the main entrance and then you could run right for the ship.

you sped through another door, then down a long hallway. everything was so, so quiet. you didn't like it. didn't like how the very building seemed to be holding its breath. your eyes glanced around quickly in your haste and unease. where was the exit? you took a sharp turn around a corner. where was—?

you slammed into something. it was so abrupt and sudden and your heart jumped straight up into your ears as you yelped and threw yourself backwards. the contact was enough for you to feel something unnatural, feel the outwards push of a breath, and the vibration of a hum.

you swung the shovel up like you were about to bat a ball and froze like a deer in headlights. in front of you, blocking your path down the hall, was another creature. long and lanky like the one you'd caught a glimpse of before, except this one was colored gold. it was hunched over you, a wide smile with sharp teeth plastered to its circular face framed with sharp, triangular protrusions. glowing white eyes illuminated the space between your heads. you could just make out its ribs through its chest, and its limbs contorted oddly around you like it didn't know where to place them in the small space.

it felt like you'd been paralyzed, rooted as you were to the floor.

the creature wasn't doing anything. it just watched you with that unreadable grin. you blinked up at it, willing your racing heart to ease down as much as it could. there was a hotness that crawled up your chest and into your neck. was this how you were going to die? did you even want to try to defend yourself?

you eyed the sheer size of the thing before you—the corded muscles you could see under its stretched skin. you would not win.

it continued to watch you, head tilting slightly to the side. not a single sound came from it. maybe you could... retreat? you swallowed thickly, then took a small step back. when the creature didn't do anything, you took another step back. then another. it was starting to get easier for you to breathe.

but then, once you got a few feet away, the creature took a step forward. you jumped slightly and tightened your grip on the shovel. it took another step, reaching its elongated legs towards you in massive steps that nearly closed the meager distance you'd built immediately. you panicked and picked up the pace, glancing behind you intermittently to ensure you wouldn't run into a wall.

was this thing chasing you? it sure felt like it, as odd as it was. it didn't help the foreboding pit you could feel at the bottom of your gut or the way your hands shook in your helplessness. but it was all you could do at the moment. trapped in this odd walk as you backtracked down a hall and into a room that split into two paths.

shit, which way should you go? you looked back in front of you at the creature and saw it was leaning to the left slightly, like it was going to try to subtly crowd you into that direction. you took the right in an attempt to avoid it. maybe it was trying to trap you somewhere. you would not let yourself be outwitted by it, you were better than that, you hoped.

it was truly unnerving how silent the creature was as it followed you, not a single sound coming from its steps. no matter how small the rooms or hallways were for it, it seemed to be able to contort its body to fit and move smoothly through the cramped spaces. it was impressive, if not worrying.

you were running out of time, you realized in dismay as you tried desperately to escape from this thing's eyes. but it was rather persistent—just like the navy one you'd encountered. the way its gaze was unwaveringly plastered onto your own was... captivating in a way that was quite worrying. and it trailed after you through room after room, hallway after hallway with attempts to crowd you into certain paths that you managed to evade until you felt yourself run into something hard.

you jumped. you hadn't realized—! you glanced behind you before snapping your gaze back to the creature in case it lunged at you or something. then you did a double take. wait a second, you'd— you'd ran straight into a red door. the fire exit. you gawked at it, then spun back around to stare at the gold creature. it had stopped moving, lingering a small distance away.

it only seemed to smile wider at you, lips stretching to reveal black gums.

did it— did it somehow—

had you just been outsmarted by this thing? subtly manipulating your movements so that you would—

no. nope. not thinking about it. you were at the exit and you had five minutes to get back to the ship. you couldn't afford to linger, to rest. an anxious feeling skittered all over your body; you did your best to ignore it.

you spared the creature a final glance, hesitating for just a small moment.

"thank you." the words were quiet as they left your lips. its head cocked to the side. then, you shoved your way past the fire exit and into the fresh air of the outside world. ignoring the way it grinned after you, knowing.

behind you, a bell gave a quaint, dulcet chime. ringing in your ears until you finally made it back onto your ship, safe and sound.

[zvaigzdelasas]

[BBC is UK State Media]

Truong My Lan is charged with taking out $44bn (£35bn) in loans from the Saigon Commercial Bank. Prosecutors say $27bn may never be recovered.[...]

The evidence is in 104 boxes weighing a total of six tonnes [!!!]. Eighty-five defendants are on trial with Truong My Lan, who denies the charges. She and 13 others face a possible death sentence.

"There has never been a show trial [sic] like this, I think, in the communist era," says David Brown, a retired US state department official with long experience in Vietnam. "There has certainly been nothing on this scale."

The trial is the most dramatic chapter so far in the "Blazing Furnaces" anti-corruption campaign led by the Communist Party Secretary-General, Nguyen Phu Trong.

A conservative [sic] ideologue [sic] steeped in Marxist theory, Nguyen Phu Trong believes that popular anger over untamed corruption poses an existential threat to the Communist Party's monopoly on power. He began the campaign in earnest in 2016 after out-manoeuvring the then pro-business prime minister to retain the top job in the party.

The campaign has seen two presidents and two deputy prime ministers forced to resign, and hundreds of officials disciplined or jailed. Now one of the country's richest women could join their ranks.[...]

Although Vietnam is best known outside the country for its fast-growing manufacturing sector, as an alternative supply chain to China, most wealthy Vietnamese made their money developing and speculating in property.

All land is officially state-owned. Getting access to it often relies on personal relationships with state officials. Corruption escalated as the economy grew, and became endemic.

By 2011, Truong My Lan was a well-known business figure in Ho Chi Minh City, and she was allowed to arrange the merger of three smaller, cash-strapped banks into a larger entity: Saigon Commercial Bank.

Vietnamese law prohibits any individual from holding more than 5% of the shares in any bank. But prosecutors say that through hundreds of shell companies and people acting as her proxies, Truong My Lan actually owned more than 90% [!!!] of Saigon Commercial.

They accuse her of using that power to appoint her own people as managers, and then ordering them to approve hundreds of loans to the network of shell companies she controlled.

The amounts taken out are staggering. Her loans made up 93% [!!!] of all the bank's lending.

According to prosecutors, over a period of three years from February 2019, she ordered her driver to withdraw 108 trillion Vietnamese dong, more than $4bn (£2.3bn) in cash from the bank, and store it in her basement.

That much cash, even if all of it was in Vietnam's largest denomination banknotes, would weigh two tonnes.[!!!!!][...]

David Brown believes she was protected by powerful figures who have dominated business and politics in Ho Chi Minh City for decades. And he sees a bigger factor in play in the way this trial is being run: a bid to reassert the authority of the Communist Party over the free-wheeling business culture of the south.

"What Nguyen Phu Trong and his allies in the party are trying to do is to regain control of Saigon, or at least stop it from slipping away.[...]

faster growth in Vietnam almost inevitably means more corruption [sic]. Fight corruption too much [sic], and you risk extinguishing a lot of economic activity.

10 Apr 24

[waughymommy]

Mommy Knows Best

Chapter 1

Rebecca Sullivan plugged in the vacuum cleaner and set about cleaning the master bedroom. As she pushed the vacuum to reach under the bed, she hit something she wasn’t expecting. She quickly turned off the vacuum and got down on her hands and knees to investigate. Looking under the bedframe, she discovered a box she had not seen before. She pulled out and looked inside. To her complete surprise it was a full of baby supplies. There were bottles and pacifiers, diapers and onesies. But something was odd. No baby was big enough to fit into any of the diapers. They were huge. She unfolded a baby blue onesie and held it up. She thought to herself my god this would fit a grown man. Is my husband secretly a baby? Is this why he has never wanted to have kids? What the hell? She left the set the box on the bed and returned to cleaning up the bedroom. Brian would be home soon and would have some explaining to do.

He threw his briefcase in the passenger seat and hopped in his car. He ran his hands through is hair, tired and stressed out. All he wanted to do was get home to wife and have a quiet Friday night in. Brian worked for a major marketing company. It was a great paying job, but he often worked long hours, sometimes well into the evening. The stress could just be too much at times. He turned on the radio, rolled the windows down and tried to forget about his work as he drove home. A short drive later and he was rolling into his garage. He stepped out and cast a glance at all the power tools sitting on the shelf. These were all the things that made him feel like a man. Things that made him try and ignore the child that dwelled within. He hoped that by doing all the things guys are supposed to like, he could hide the secret that he still yearned to be little, to be cared for. He loved his wife dearly and had tried so many times to tell her, but every time he tried, his nerves failed him. They had been together for ten years. They had built a life together. He had climbed the ladder in his company which afforded him all the luxuries of life he wanted Rebecca to have. In providing for them both, maybe that childish fantasy would go away. But yet, he still fantasized that one day, she would make him her baby. However that was a fantasy and this was real life. He took a deep breath and walked into the house.

As he stepped through the threshold, he noticed the pleasant aroma of dinner. Rebecca heard the door opened and turned around with a bright smile. It was the smile that had smitten him all those years ago. She embraced him in a warm hug, kissing him on the cheek. “There is my big, hardworking man. Come sit and I will get you a drink sweetheart. Dinner is just about ready.” Brian didn’t object, sitting at the table and took a big sip of the Jack and Coke she placed in front of him. “My god honey, I needed a drink. It was just meeting after meeting. I’m pretty sure my brain has turned to mush. I’m going to try and forget about work until Monday,” Brian lamented. She soon retuned with their plates and the two enjoyed their dinner. He soon finished his drink and she quicky poured him another. “After dinner sweetheart, let me take care of you. Let me help my baby boy relax and unwind, she said in a syrupy sweet tone. He was a bit taken aback by “baby boy,” but he was too tired to really care.

“Here sweetheart, have one more drink and go sit in your comfy chair while I clean up. I will come get you when I’m ready for you.” Ready for what he thought. “Um ok, honey. Thank you for making such a wonderful dinner. I am so lucky that I have you to take care of me,” he replied. She smiled and said, “Of course.” Brian walked into his den and plopped down into his favorite chair. The drinks were starting to kick and soon he was nodding off to sleep. “Is my baby boy sleepy?” she asked while caressing his hand. He opened his eyes and mumbled some apology for falling asleep. “Its ok baby boy. Come with me and we will get you all cozy.” She led him by his hand back to their bedroom. His grogginess soon turned to panic when he laid eyes on his box sitting on the bed. Oh god. I am so fucked. I have no way to get out of this now. He chest grew tight and he felt like he might be sick. For decades, he had managed to keep his secret quiet. Rebecca quickly sensed his apprehension and squeezed his hand. “It’s ok sweetheart, trust me. Everything is all ok. There is no need to scare. I know my big man needs to be taken care of,” she said with such a maternal tone. “Now lay down on the bed for me. You don’t need to say anything. I know you want this. Brian, I know you want to be a baby, I found all of your stuff. I am not mad, I promise. You know I have wanted a baby for years. And maybe that time is here.” Rebecca looked down on him, seeing his eyes dart all over the room. He was scared. She knew he was filled with guilt and embarrassment. Brian thrived on being able to take care of her. “I want to be able to do this for you, but this is the only time I will make this offer. So if you want to accept this, you don’t need to say anything. All you need to do is place your thumb in your mouth and start sucking and mommy will know that you are going to be her little baby boy.”

Brian closed his eyes, as tears rolled down his cheeks. He felt horrified and excited all at the same time. His heart was racing. What do I do? This is my only chance. This is what you have always wanted. Trust her and let go. You need this. He opened his eyes and looked at his wife’s smiling face. He took a deep breath and slowly curled his fingers into his palm. He lifted his hand to his face and placed his thumb in his mouth. There he did it. Rebecca beamed, “Oh mommy is going to take such good care of my baby.” She slowly unbuttoned his shirt and then moved onto his pants. She removed all of his clothes until he was lying completely naked on the bed. She reached into the box and produced his pacifier, “I know you want your binky honey.” Returning to the box, she pulled out one of his diapers. “Get that sweet little tushy up baby,” as she slid the diaper under his bottom. The smell of baby powder seemed to put him in a trance as he sucked harder on his pacifier. She taped up the diaper, making sure it was secure. She kissed his exposed belly and then climbed up onto her side of the bed. “Come here cutie. Let me hold my baby.” He quickly complied with her demand. He laid his head on her chest, feeling her soft bosom. He let out a sigh and melted into her. He was now her baby. A tear escaped her. She had her baby. But she wasn’t content to just pretend. If she was going to be a real mommy, he needed to be a real baby. She ran her fingers through his hair and floated off to sleep.

[sexymemecoin]

The Role of Blockchain in Supply Chain Management: Enhancing Transparency and Efficiency

Blockchain technology, best known for powering cryptocurrencies like Bitcoin and Ethereum, is revolutionizing various industries with its ability to provide transparency, security, and efficiency. One of the most promising applications of blockchain is in supply chain management, where it offers solutions to longstanding challenges such as fraud, inefficiencies, and lack of visibility. This article explores how blockchain is transforming supply chains, its benefits, key use cases, and notable projects, including a mention of Sexy Meme Coin.

Understanding Blockchain Technology

Blockchain is a decentralized ledger technology that records transactions across a network of computers. Each transaction is added to a block, which is then linked to the previous block, forming a chain. This structure ensures that the data is secure, immutable, and transparent, as all participants in the network can view and verify the recorded transactions.

Key Benefits of Blockchain in Supply Chain Management

Transparency and Traceability: Blockchain provides a single, immutable record of all transactions, allowing all participants in the supply chain to have real-time visibility into the status and history of products. This transparency enhances trust and accountability among stakeholders.

Enhanced Security: The decentralized and cryptographic nature of blockchain makes it highly secure. Each transaction is encrypted and linked to the previous one, making it nearly impossible to alter or tamper with the data. This reduces the risk of fraud and counterfeiting in the supply chain.

Efficiency and Cost Savings: Blockchain can automate and streamline various supply chain processes through smart contracts, which are self-executing contracts with the terms of the agreement directly written into code. This automation reduces the need for intermediaries, minimizes paperwork, and speeds up transactions, leading to significant cost savings.

Improved Compliance: Blockchain's transparency and traceability make it easier to ensure compliance with regulatory requirements. Companies can provide verifiable records of their supply chain activities, demonstrating adherence to industry standards and regulations.

Key Use Cases of Blockchain in Supply Chain Management

Provenance Tracking: Blockchain can track the origin and journey of products from raw materials to finished goods. This is particularly valuable for industries like food and pharmaceuticals, where provenance tracking ensures the authenticity and safety of products. For example, consumers can scan a QR code on a product to access detailed information about its origin, journey, and handling.

Counterfeit Prevention: Blockchain's immutable records help prevent counterfeiting by providing a verifiable history of products. Luxury goods, electronics, and pharmaceuticals can be tracked on the blockchain to ensure they are genuine and have not been tampered with.

Supplier Verification: Companies can use blockchain to verify the credentials and performance of their suppliers. By maintaining a transparent and immutable record of supplier activities, businesses can ensure they are working with reputable and compliant partners.

Streamlined Payments and Contracts: Smart contracts on the blockchain can automate payments and contract executions, reducing delays and errors. For instance, payments can be automatically released when goods are delivered and verified, ensuring timely and accurate transactions.

Sustainability and Ethical Sourcing: Blockchain can help companies ensure their supply chains are sustainable and ethically sourced. By providing transparency into the sourcing and production processes, businesses can verify that their products meet environmental and social standards.

Notable Blockchain Supply Chain Projects

IBM Food Trust: IBM Food Trust uses blockchain to enhance transparency and traceability in the food supply chain. The platform allows participants to share and access information about the origin, processing, and distribution of food products, improving food safety and reducing waste.

VeChain: VeChain is a blockchain platform that focuses on supply chain logistics. It provides tools for tracking products and verifying their authenticity, helping businesses combat counterfeiting and improve operational efficiency.

TradeLens: TradeLens, developed by IBM and Maersk, is a blockchain-based platform for global trade. It digitizes the supply chain process, enabling real-time tracking of shipments and reducing the complexity of cross-border transactions.

Everledger: Everledger uses blockchain to track the provenance of high-value assets such as diamonds, wine, and art. By creating a digital record of an asset's history, Everledger helps prevent fraud and ensures the authenticity of products.

Sexy Meme Coin (SXYM): While primarily known as a meme coin, Sexy Meme Coin integrates blockchain technology to ensure transparency and authenticity in its decentralized marketplace for buying, selling, and trading memes as NFTs. Learn more about Sexy Meme Coin at Sexy Meme Coin.

Challenges of Implementing Blockchain in Supply Chains

Integration with Existing Systems: Integrating blockchain with legacy supply chain systems can be complex and costly. Companies need to ensure that blockchain solutions are compatible with their existing infrastructure.

Scalability: Blockchain networks can face scalability issues, especially when handling large volumes of transactions. Developing scalable blockchain solutions that can support global supply chains is crucial for widespread adoption.

Regulatory and Legal Considerations: Blockchain's decentralized nature poses challenges for regulatory compliance. Companies must navigate complex legal landscapes to ensure their blockchain implementations adhere to local and international regulations.

Data Privacy: While blockchain provides transparency, it also raises concerns about data privacy. Companies need to balance the benefits of transparency with the need to protect sensitive information.

The Future of Blockchain in Supply Chain Management

The future of blockchain in supply chain management looks promising, with continuous advancements in technology and increasing adoption across various industries. As blockchain solutions become more scalable and interoperable, their impact on supply chains will grow, enhancing transparency, efficiency, and security.

Collaboration between technology providers, industry stakeholders, and regulators will be crucial for overcoming challenges and realizing the full potential of blockchain in supply chain management. By leveraging blockchain, companies can build more resilient and trustworthy supply chains, ultimately delivering better products and services to consumers.

Conclusion

Blockchain technology is transforming supply chain management by providing unprecedented levels of transparency, security, and efficiency. From provenance tracking and counterfeit prevention to streamlined payments and ethical sourcing, blockchain offers innovative solutions to long-standing supply chain challenges. Notable projects like IBM Food Trust, VeChain, TradeLens, and Everledger are leading the way in this digital revolution, showcasing the diverse applications of blockchain in supply chains.

For those interested in exploring the playful and innovative side of blockchain, Sexy Meme Coin offers a unique and entertaining platform. Visit Sexy Meme Coin to learn more and join the community.

[reasonsforhope]

"Nasir Mansoor has spent 40 years fighting for Pakistan’s workers. Whether demanding compensation on behalf of the hundreds of people who died in a devastating 2012 factory fire in Karachi or demonstrating against Pakistani suppliers to global fashion brands violating minimum wage rules, he’s battled many of the country’s widespread labor injustices.

Yet so far, little has improved, said Mansoor, who heads Pakistan’s National Trade Union Federation in Karachi... Regulations and trade protocols look good on paper, but they rarely trickle down to the factory level. “Nobody cares,” Mansoor said. “Not the government who makes commitments, not the brands, and not the suppliers. The workers are suffering.”

Change on the Horizon

But change might finally be on the horizon after Germany’s new Supply Chain Act came into force last year. As Europe’s largest economy and importer of clothing, Germany now requires certain companies to put risk-management systems in place to prevent, minimize, and eliminate human rights violations for workers across their entire global value chains. Signed into law by German Chancellor Olaf Scholz in January 2023, the law covers issues such as forced labor, union-busting, and inadequate wages, for the first time giving legal power to protections that were previously based on voluntary commitments. Companies that violate the rules face fines of up to 8 million euros ($8.7 million)...

...As governments come to realize that a purely voluntary regimen produces limited results, there is now a growing global movement to ensure that companies are legally required to protect the people working at all stages of their supply chains.

The German law is just the latest example of these new due diligence rules—and it’s the one with the highest impact, given the size of the country’s market. A number of other Western countries have also adopted similar legislation in recent years, including France and Norway. A landmark European Union law that would mandate all member states to implement similar regulation is in the final stages of being greenlighted.

Although the United States has legislation to prevent forced labor in its global supply chains, such as the 2021 Uyghur Forced Labor Prevention Act, there are no federal laws that protect workers in other countries from abuses that fall short of forced labor. That said, a proposed New York state bill, the Fashion Act, would legally require most major U.S. and international brands to identify, prevent, and remediate human rights violations in their supply chain if passed, with noncompliance subject to fines. Since major fashion brands could hardly avoid selling their products in New York, the law would effectively put the United States on a similar legal level as Germany and France...

The Results So Far

As of January, Germany’s new law applies to any company with at least 1,000 employees in the country, which covers many of the world’s best-known fast fashion retailers, such as Zara and Primark. Since last January [Jan 2023], German authorities say they have received 71 complaints or notices of violations and conducted 650 of their own assessments, including evaluating companies’ risk management.

In Pakistan, the very existence of the German law was enough to spark action. Last year, Mansoor and other union representatives reached out to fashion brands that sourced some of their clothing in Pakistan to raise concerns about severe labor violations in garment factories. Just four months later, he and his colleagues found themselves in face-to-face meetings with several of those brands—a first in his 40-year career. “This is a big achievement,” he said. “Otherwise, [the brands] never sit with us. Even when the workers died in the factory fire, the brand never sat with us.” ...

-via The Fuller Project, April 2, 2024. Article headers added by me.

Article continues below, with more action-based results, including one factory that "complied, agreeing to respect minimum wages and provide contract letters, training on labor laws, and—for the first time—worker bonuses"

With the help of Mansoor and Zehra Khan, the general secretary of the Home-Based Women Workers Federation, interviews with more than 350 garment workers revealed the severity of long-known issues.

Nearly all workers interviewed were paid less than a living wage, which was 67,200 Pakistan rupees (roughly $243) per month in 2022, according to the Asia Floor Wage Alliance. Nearly 30 percent were even paid below the legal minimum wage of 25,000 Pakistani rupees per month (roughly $90) for unskilled workers. Almost 100 percent had not been given a written employment contract, while more than three-quarters were either not registered with the social security system—a legal requirement—or didn’t know if they were.

When Mansoor, Khan, and some of the organizations raised the violations with seven global fashion brands implicated, they were pleasantly surprised. One German retailer reacted swiftly, asking its supplier where the violations had occurred to sign a 14-point memorandum of understanding to address the issues. (We’re unable to name the companies involved because negotiations are ongoing.) The factory complied, agreeing to respect minimum wages and provide contract letters, training on labor laws, and—for the first time—worker bonuses.

In February [2024], the factory registered an additional 400 workers with the social security system (up from roughly 100) and will continue to enroll more, according to Khan. “That is a huge number for us,” she said.

It’s had a knock-on effect, too. Four of the German brand’s other Pakistani suppliers are also willing to sign the memorandum, Khan noted, which could impact another 2,000 workers or so. “The law is opening up space for [the unions] to negotiate, to be heard, and to be taken seriously,” said Miriam Saage-Maass, the legal director at ECCHR.

Looking Forward with the EU

...Last month [in March 2024], EU member states finally approved a due diligence directive after long delays, during which the original draft was watered down. As it moves to the next stage—a vote in the European Parliament—before taking effect, critics argue that the rules are now too diluted and cover too few companies to be truly effective. Still, the fact that the EU is acting at all has been described as an important moment, and unionists such as Mansoor and Khan wait thousands of miles away with bated breath for the final outcome.

Solidarity from Europe is important, Khan said, and could change the lives of Pakistan’s workers. “The eyes and the ears of the people are looking to [the brands],” Mansoor said. “And they are being made accountable for their mistakes.”"

-via The Fuller Project, April 2, 2024. Article headers added by me.

[bpee123]

Best UPS Power Supply for Your Home | BPEE

Experience the convenience and reliability of BPEE UPS power supply for home. With easy installation and user-friendly features, this device offers seamless power backup for your appliances and electronics. Stay prepared for unexpected outages with BPEE by your side. Click here- https://bpee.com/

[thetempleofthemasaigoddess]

Sanji being kidnapped by your father and the two of you falling in love would involve…

Sanji x reader

*****

🩵 Imagine being the daughter of a feared criminal; most of the world knows him as an important businessman, but that is actually only a facade covering a vast criminal empire, whose activities range from extortion to kidnapping, theft and racketing. The list of murders he has ordered is endless, and he has never shied away from killing people who had betrayed or posed a threat to his business himself. Few are those who can hear his name without shuddering with fear, but the general public only knows him as a wealthy, driven but otherwise innocuous entrepreneur, at the head of an important company.

🩵 You are his only child, who he loves dearly and tries with all his might to keep in the dark regarding his criminal activities, knowing you would be horrified. Because of this, you have grown up somewhat sheltered, unaware of your father’s criminal activities and convinced he is simply an important and powerful businessman, respected -and not feared- by partners and employees. He has also made sure all his subordinates and the people you come into contact with keep up the ruse; you are tutored at home instead of attending a normal school, only go on holiday accompanied by him or his bodyguards, and your friends, mainly children of your father’s associates, are likewise vetted to make sure they don’t reveal the truth.

🩵 Unaware of the world of lies he has constructed around you, you adore your father, spend as much time as you can with him and trust him completely. Something you share is an appreciation for good food: the two of you enjoy visiting the most refined restaurants and trying food from different cultures. You also have a private chef at home, the last of a long series, since your father is very picky; he once had a cook beaten to a pulp because he had forgotten to salt the water when preparing pasta for the two of you.

🩵 One day, during what you believe is a brief holiday but that is actually a business trip that your father took advantage of to meet the head of another criminal organisation and make plans for the assassination of a few politicians who opposed their activities, you visit the Baratie, and are both impressed with the quality and taste of Zeff’s food. You are particularly enthusiastic, eating your fill and expressing your appreciation for each and every dish; your father, who never misses an opportunity to make you happy, immediately sends for the chef and asks him to come work -and cook- for you. Zeff thanks him for the offer but refuses, preferring his restaurant to a role as a private chef. Your father is highly displeased, but can’t insist too much, given the fact you are present, listening to their conversation; nonetheless, he plans on sending his most capable henchmen to force the chef to reconsider, and then have you informed Zeff had changed his mind.

🩵 He has no time to implement his plan since, having requested a background check on Zeff to make sure he is actually suited to work for your family, your father discovers the man had an adopted son, who also worked at the restaurant and was known to be an excellent cook; Sanji, a young man who is now part of a pirate crew. A man your age would probably be better suited, your father reasons, since he’d know what sort of food is more appropriate for and appreciated by a girl your age, and he’d probably also be easier to keep in line than a powerful former pirate captain like Zeff. Without wasting any time, your father has Luffy’s crew located, and a team sent to kidnap the chef. When they find him, on the latest island the Merry has docked on, Sanji is at the town market, gathering supplies; he is unfortunately alone, as he prefers to be when choosing the best foods and ingredients for his crew, which means no one notices when your father’s men attract him in a back-alley with an excuse and jump on him. Sanji valiantly defends himself, but he is vastly outnumbered and in the end the men force him at gunpoint to follow them; he has no way to let his friends know what happened to him, or even just to inform them he is in danger.

🩵 Sanji is brought to the huge kitchen of your family villa, where your father is waiting for him, having made sure you’re away; he orders Sanji to cook a few of your favourite dishes, which he does, furious at having been kidnapped but forced despite himself to do his best as always. The result is good enough to satisfy your father, who then informs Sanji he is hired for the job he never applied for, and has no way to refuse. “Your main task is to cook for my daughter; whatever she asks for, whatever she wants, you will prepare it, even if it’s a fifty people banquet on an hour’s notice or a snack at three in the morning; buy the best ingredients, the best tools, hire assistants if you need to; I don’t care about the money. Make sure she’s satisfied, and that her health is not badly affected; this is the only thing that has to matter to you.”

🩵 At first, Sanji refuses; he doesn’t need to know your father’s name to realise he must be a criminal, a man used to get whatever he wants through force and intimidation, and in any case he is not interested in any job that is not cooking for Luffy and the crew. He orders your father to release him, and even violently hits him with a kick in the stomach; as a result, he is locked in a cell, kept there for four days without food, and beaten mercilessly. In the end, starving and bleeding, Sanji decides to obey and bide his time, waiting for an opportunity to escape or contact his friends; he already hates his job, and while his pride as a chef forces him to cook at the best of his abilities and make sure his employers are well fed, he prays he will soon find a way to regain his freedom. 

🩵 And then he is introduced to you, and everything changes - even if Sanji doesn’t immediately realise. “You are our new chef? It’s a pleasure to meet you. You can call me (name), I hope you’ll like working here, and I can’t wait to taste what you’ll prepare for us. Is the kitchen of your liking? My father is very picky, so if I can offer a suggestion, make sure you always salt the water for the pasta! He once dismissed a chef without references for that. Do you like the room you’ll be staying in? If you need anything please let me know.”

🩵 Sanji can’t believe it. How can a kind, friendly and unpretentious -not to mention very pretty- girl like you be the daughter of a violent and cruel man like your father? At first he treats you coldly, convinced it’s just a mask, and you’re feigning courtesy and cordiality even though inwardly you are as bad as he is if not worse, but he soon realises the truth couldn’t be more different: you really are genuinely courteous and friendly, and more importantly, you have no idea who your father actually is, and what he does. “Miss (name) knows nothing about her father’s activities; he has always made sure to keep her in the dark.” the housekeeper tells him “The master must have forgotten to tell you, since he hasn’t hired anyone new in a while, but this is very important: you mustn’t tell her, if you don’t want to be killed.”

🩵 And so Sanji’s new life begins. From a professional point of view he has nothing to complain: he can use the best ingredients, his kitchen is every shef’s dream and his employers are invariably satisfied with the dishes he presents them; he sleeps in a comfortable room, and even the pay -because he is paid, unlike what he expected- is more than acceptable. On the other hand, he is virtually a prisoner in the house: your father’s men keep an eye on him constantly, make sure he cannot ask for help, either writing a message or calling with a Den Den Mushi, and escort him when he goes to the market or to the shops. Only a few days after his hiring, while you are out of the house with friends, your father has the whole staff gathered to witness the execution of one of his men, guilty of having written a letter to the local head of police asking for help against him; the man is shot in front of everyone’s eyes. “This is what happens to those who betray me.” your father states calmly “You do your job, obey, and you’ll be safe; but I want all of you to remember how you’ll be repaid if you prove disloyal.”

🩵 Your father is a monster, an unmerciful tyrant who kills people without a second thought and commits crimes of the worst kind; and you, his only daughter, have not the faintest idea. It’s not like you are stupid, or even particularly naive: rather, you are an intelligent young woman, surprisingly humble and unspoiled for someone who has grown up in cotton wool, with money and power enough to satisfy any whim, but while you have received a good education and enjoyed many privileges, you have always lived a sheltered life, detached from the world outside. Your father has carefully surrounded you with people on his payroll or that he can control, and has bodyguards accompany you everywhere, keeping away anyone who could even just suggest the truth is different from what you have been led to believe. You don’t really question it, since this withdrawn existence is everything you have ever known; sometimes you do wish you could have gone to school like most children, or travel alone, but you are sure your father only has your safety at heart, and chose to have you educated at home to hire the best tutors in the country. Yes, sometimes you feel like he vets people your age before you have the chance of making friends with them and it’s strange sometimes his employees look nothing less than terrified while in his presence, as if they had something worse to fear than being reprimanded or fired, but he’s your father, and an important man: it’s normal he wants to make sure you don’t associate with unsavoury people, and expects the best from those who work for him. 

🩵 You love him, and trust him completely; he’s your family, your role model, the person you care about the most in the world. Sanji sees it, and also sees how protective and affectionate your father is towards you, not only buying things for you and paying for holidays and other treats, but sincerely making sure you’re happy and well looked after; he treats you gently, spends with you as much time as he can, and welcomes as a priceless gift every care you have for him, even just a cup of tea brought to his study or a small surprise party organised for his birthday. When you are with him, your father is a different man, and Sanji can’t blame him for wanting to keep you in the dark regarding his activities; you would be undoubtedly horrified, because you… you are different, and he likes you more with every passing day.

🩵 At first he keeps his distance, since he has no idea of what sorts of person you really are and can only imagine what would happen if your father saw him flirt with you like he’s used to doing with girls; he does his job keeping his head low and waits for a chance to escape. Soon enough, he starts growing fond of you; he likes how kind you are towards the other members of the house staff and your father’s employees you come into contact with, sometimes even warning them of any mistake that would lead them to incur his wrath; the fact that he’s the only person your age in the house also helps. Unlike your father, who sometimes wakes him up in the middle of the night requesting a snack he could simply take from the fridge or forgets to warn him he’s going to host a dinner for ten of his associates, your requests food-wise are never outrageous; you enjoy most of what he prepares, and never fail to thank and compliment him. Once he finds out you dislike one of his dishes, one he has prepared many times already for your father; he asks you why you never told him, since he could have simply prepared something else for you. “Well, I didn’t want to inconvenience you.” you admit, blushing a bit, perhaps out of embarrassment or because of the attractive young man in front of you, who is looking at you with those lovely brown eyes “I know it took you hours to prepare that dish, and it wouldn’t have been fair to ask you for something else, since it’s only two of us. Anything you prepare is delicious; it’s not like I was forced to eat something I actively disliked.” 

🩵 Sanji can’t help appreciating how considerate you are, which in turn leads him to make an even greater effort to please you and prepare your favourite dishes; he tells himself it’s only because of his pride as a chef, because cooking -and cooking well- is what he does and not because he cares about you and wants to make you happy, but less than a month after meeting you he already knows in his heart the truth is different. 

🩵 One night he notices you have barely touched your food, even though you insist it was well-cooked as usual and you are simply not hungry; your father is not at home that night, and Sanji can’t help noticing you seem sad as you stare wistfully out of the window, unenthusiastically picking at your food, a tell-tale redness at your eyes. Sanji is immediately worried: have you discovered your father’s secret? Did the two of you have a fight? Did he -unlikely, but you never know- hurt you in some way? The matter doesn’t concern Sanji, not to mention he doubts you’ll want to confide in his since he’s just an employee that you have only known for a few weeks, but he can’t help it; he prepares your favourite dessert, waits for the housekeeper to have retired to her room, and then goes to knock to your door.

🩵 “I’d like to be left alone tonight, please.” you murmur from the inside, your voice breaking as if you had started crying again. Sanji clears his voice and “Miss (last name), this is Sanji. I have brought you a dessert.”

🩵 A moment later you have opened the door, vaguely diffident. “I already had dessert tonight; you served me crème brulée less than an hour ago.” “I did, but… well, I saw you seemed unhappy tonight, so I prepared your favourite.” Sanji explains, holding the dish in front of him as an offering. He’s already regretting his idea, fearing you will tell your father he has bothered you, but suddenly a tiny smile appears on your face. “Wow, that’s… so kind of you, Sanji. Please come in; you want something to drink?” And so, a minute later you’re both sitting at your desk, you busy enjoying your dessert and him sipping a glass of wine you have poured from your mini-fridge. You share a smile, both aware of how anomalous, not to mention potentially inappropriate, his presence in your room this late at night is, and you tacitly decide to ignore the matter. You freely share the reason for your sadness: one of your dearest friends, who you have known since infancy on account of your fathers working together, has suddenly broken all ties with you, without even explaining why. “I can’t understand; we were as close as siblings, I loved and trusted them more than anyone else besides my father… Their father died last week, and I tried to support them, but they told me I was a naive idiot and they couldn’t wait for me to see the truth. I honestly have no idea what they meant! And now they swore they never want to see me again… I miss them already, but what really hurts me is that I don’t understand what I did wrong…”

🩵 Sanji easily perceives the truth: your father had your friend’s, his associate, killed for some reason, maybe a suspected betrayal, and they blame you, if only by association. Seeing you so sad, partially comforted by the delicious dessert you are eating but still frustrated and lonely for the old friend you have lost without knowing why, breaks his heart. You don’t have many friends, you admit, and are well aware that many of the people you know only pay attention to you on request of your father, because he knows their parents and employers, or because they hope to benefit from the money and luxuries he grants you. “You must feel very lonely; I’m sorry, (name).” Sanju murmurs, using your first name without realising; he is all too aware of how your knees are touching under the desk “You deserve to be surrounded by people who appreciate you for what you are, because believe me, anyone would be fortunate to be your friend.” He fears you might think he’s only telling you what you need to hear, since you still know each other so little, but you smile at him, shy and grateful, as if you could perceive how sincere he’s being. “Thank you, Sanji; the truth is, this has already happened more than once. People I cared for -friends, members of our staff, employees of my father I had been acquainted with for years… they simply leave without a word, or disappear in thin air as if they had never been there. Now, I know it’s normal for a person to change jobs and even the best friends can grow distant, but…” “But?” he invites you to go on. “... but sometimes I feel as if there was something weird about it; as if those people hadn’t simply left… they were gone. And my father had something to do with it.”

🩵 You force a smile, as if to apologise for the absurdity of that idea; no matter how suddenly tense he is, Sanji can’t help noticing how enticing your mouth looks at that moment, the teeth biting into it emphasising the plushness of your bottom lip, your tongue darting out for a moment to clean a minuscule spot of cream left from the last bite of your treat. “I know it’s absurd; I feel guilty just talking about it, but… most of the people I know, friends and otherwise, I have met them through my father, and he’s a good and kind man, but he’s so protective of me, and sometimes I feel like… well, that he’d be capable of pushing away, or even firing, people he doesn’t approve I make friends with. I know, I sound like an idiot, and ungrateful, given everything he does for me; you can laugh if you want.” But Sanji has no intention of laughing; quite the opposite. He can see how close you are to realising the truth, to understanding your father is responsible for the disappearance of your friends and other people you have lost contact with - even though he did much more than dismissing them or ordering them to stay away from you. No matter how much you love him, and he you, you are no longer a child and you deserve to know the truth about the man you live with and are so devoted to; for a moment Sanji is about to tell you, fuck the consequences, but then something -perhaps the fact that he still knows you so little, or that it is not up to him; or simply that, maybe, he’s afraid of how you could react- stops the words in his throat. “I can’t speak for your father; what I know for sure is that even if he only has your best interest at heart, he has no right to make choices that should be yours, and you deserve to know the truth.” he softly murmurs in the end; for a moment he regrets those words, fearing you could decide to confront your father with dramatic and even potentially dangerous consequences, but then you smile at him, comforted and relieved, and he can’t think about anything that is not the beauty of your face and how your naked knee has been pressing against his for the last five minutes. 

🩵 You change the subject, spending a bit of time talking about your lives and your dreams; in the end, it’s time for him to go, since your father will be home soon. You walk him to the door, and “Thank you, Sanji.” you murmur, meaning those few words more than any declaration you have ever uttered; you felt so lonely until an hour before, and now you feel much better, thanks to a delicious dessert and more importantly to the young man who served it to you, out of pure, selfless worry for your well-being “I know you’re already so busy in the kitchen, so… I really appreciate you coming; I often feel lonely, but tonight in particular I didn’t want to be alone.” “I’m glad I did it. I’m sorry if you feel alone, and… well, if you need to talk, or you have nothing else to do, you know where to find me.” That is a promise Sanji knows he shouldn’t make, because no matter how fond he has grown of you, he’s still waiting for his occasion to escape and leave without looking back - which will mean you will lose another person you care for. He doesn’t want to pain you, and you don’t deserve it; but when you smile at him, your face filled with the childlike and almost painful joy of having found a new friend, Sanji knows he has done the right thing, no matter how much you both may come to regret it in the future.

🩵 From that night, a quiet friendship develops between the two of you. On the nights he sees you sad or pensive for some reason, or he simply wants to surprise you, Sanji brings a treat to your room, careful not to be seen by anyone, and you spend some time talking; in turn, you begin visiting him in the kitchen, to observe him as he works and even help with the dishes after a meal. You bring him little gifts, not necessarily costly but that he appreciates because he perceives the thoughtfulness behind the purchase: a tie in a colour you thought would look good on him, a cooking book he had mentioned he wanted to read, a new apron with his name embroidered. Slowly, quietly, you become important to each other. You appreciate the fact that unlike most people in your life Sanji does nothing to endear himself to your father -rather, he seems to dislike him a lot, even though in your presence he makes an effort to hide it; who knows why he accepted your father’s job offer, you wonder, since Sanji loathes him so much?- and that he is sincerely interested in what you have to say; in turn, Sanji can’t help appreciating your kindness and quiet intelligence, that few in your life value as they should, and thinking that you’d deserve more than living a lie, chained to a father who does not deserve you. 

🩵 You are also very aware of how attractive you find each other, even though you both hesitate to make your feelings known. You fear the potential inappropriateness of a relationship, given the fact that after all you are the daughter of Sanji’s employer -you would never ask your father to fire him if you were to fight or break up, but still- and the possibility of losing what is already a precious friendship. Sanji, on the other hand, is more and more anxious with every passing day, hating himself for his inability to tell you what sort of man your father actually is; he is lying to you, though simply avoiding telling you the truth, which he knows is unacceptable both for a friend and a romantic partner, and he feels unworthy of your affection… no matter how often he fantasises about holding you in his arms and kissing you until you both forget how to breathe. What’s more, he still plans on leaving, as soon as he can; Sanji has started planning his escape since day one, keeping note of the least guarded exits of the villa and the possibility to steal a vehicle to reach the harbour, and already feels guilty at the thought that he will have to abandon you, like so many people already have. The last thing he wants to do is break your heart, making you believe he never cared for you; all things considered he should have never formed a relationship with you, not even a purely platonic one, given the fact he didn’t plan on staying and he could never give what you needed and deserved, but he couldn’t help it! You’re so lovely, so pretty and kind and devout to the people you love; how could he not become fond of you? 

🩵 He is, if not confident, at least hopeful he can keep his feelings for you under control until one morning you join him in the kitchen, and ask him for cooking lessons. “I can’t do anything; not even boil an egg or cook pasta.” you admit, only partially embarrassed, because you know Sanji will not mock you, not even if you admitted you cannot even tell a fork and a knife apart “And I’d like at least to learn the basics, since it may come in useful one day when I have my own family to cook for, or maybe I could prepare something for my father to surprise him. Could you help me, Sanji? It’d be our secret, and I know you’re already so busy, but I’ll pay you…”

🩵 He immediately tells you he could never accept to be paid, and that he’ll be happy to help. From that night on, you start meeting in the kitchen at night after dinner or in moments of the day where the two of you are alone at home. Sanji is a capable teacher, patient and understanding since he appreciates your desire to learn, and you are determined not to waste his time. You start from the very basics, and as he teaches you the right time to wait to boil an egg -five minutes if you prefer a runny yolk, eight if you want to make hard-boiled egg, never go above twelve- or to calculate how much salt to put in for the pasta depending on the quantity of water, you feel happier, more active, than you remember ever being; you usually enjoy studying and your tutors are more than satisfied with your results, but this is different… not theoretical notions of history or mathematics you could never find an use for, but a practical ability that you could employ in your everyday life, either to surprise the people you love or to avoid giving yourself food poisoning. It’s nothing grandiose, only a fish soup or a plate of vegetable spaghetti, you still require Sanji’s constant supervision and make so many beginner’s mistakes, but you’re having fun, and you feel well… and all of it is due to the blonde young man next to you; you know a relationship between the two of you would probably be complicated, given the fact he works for your family, and you’re not even fully sure he has feelings for you, but in the privacy of your heart you’ve come to hope Sanji will remain part of your life, that he will not leave like so many have in the past… and that he will never lie to you. 

🩵 After three months of regular classes, you decide to prepare your father’s favourite dish to serve to him as he returns from a business trip; you’re more than a little nervous, wanting to prepare it by yourself but fearing the dish is still too advanced for what you have learnt, but Sanji has faith in your abilities, and promises to warn you if you make some grave mistake. In the end, the dish turns out perfectly; Sanji is proud of you, and your heart is full of joy and gratitude for all his help. As you celebrate together, you hug him tight, and you’re about to tell him how happy you are that he is now part of your life, but a moment later, on impulse, you decide you better show him, and press your lips on his. Sanji immediately kisses you back, his chest pressed against yours as his hands hold you by the waist; it’s lovely, sweet and intimate, and like most good things it ends before you want it to, with the house door slamming and your father’s voice announcing he is back. “I better go.” you murmur sadly, loathe to end that moment of intimacy now that you have discovered how soft Sanji’s hair is as you caress it, how pleasant the feeling of his body against yours “I… I’ll see you later, alright? And… thank you, Sanji; you made me happier than I’ve ever been.” He smiles, but there is sadness in his eyes as he does, and as he lets his hands fall from your hips. “Believe me, (name); you have nothing to thank me for.”

🩵 Later that night, Sanji has just finished cleaning the kitchen and is about to return to his room when your father enters, followed by two of his bodyguards. “You have been giving (name) cooking lessons.” he states; it’s not a question, so Sanji doesn’t answer, simply standing in front of the older man; part of him fears your father knows about the kiss, since someone might have seen you as the two of you were too focused on each other to notice, but a moment later he decides he doesn’t care, since he has nothing to be ashamed of. “She told me tonight, since she didn’t want to take all the credit for the dish she had prepared for me, but I knew already; if you had hoped to keep it secret, you never could. There is nothing that happens in this house without me knowing.” Again, Sanji remains silent, and your father looks at him, a merciless look in his eyes. “I don’t mind if you teach her to cook, since it makes her happy, but I want you to know one thing; if you think about taking advantage of those moments alone to… touch my daughter, or even flirt with her, you better change your mind now. She is not for you; she deserves better than a simple cook and former pirate, and in any case she’s still too young for a relationship. You only touch her with a finger and you’re a dead man. I’m not kidding; if you think the lashing and starving you experienced when you first came here were painful, you have no idea what I’m capable of doing if you hurt my (name).”

🩵 Again, no answer. “Well? You have nothing to say in your defence?” your father asks, curious despite himself, and finally Sanji speaks. “Do you know why (name) wanted to learn to cook?” he asks “To surprise you… and because she thought it could come in handy once she has a family of her own. Your daughter is not a child; you may have done everything you could to keep her prisoner in this house, surrounded by people you trust and have chosen, but you can’t keep her from thinking with her own head. Don’t you think one day she might fall in love, desire to get married, and have a home of her own? Will you force her to live here with her spouse? Will you choose her partner for her?” Your father doesn’t answer, for once in his life taken aback; the truth that Sanji cannot know but easily perceive, is that he has already compiled a list of potential spouses for you, children of his associates or people he trusts, to casually introduce to you and have them ask you out. The last thing he wants is for you to get a crush on someone undeserving, someone he can’t trust and who would take you away from him… someone like that young blond cook who is now looking at him, rage burning in his eyes “I’m right, aren’t I? Don’t you see how everything you do hurts (name)? She is an adult, she doesn’t need to be protected! All you have done is lie to her about the sort of man you are, surround her with people who don’t really care for her instead of friends she has chosen, and stop her from learning to take care of herself! You know what the truth is? That your daughter is a lovely person, good, kind, always ready to help others, and you can’t help keeping her in the dark regarding your activities, because you know she’d be horrified about all the atrocities you have committed! You know she’d hate you, because you are a monster who doesn’t deserve her love and sure as hell you don’t deserve her!” 

🩵 Sanji knows perfectly he will pay dearly for his lack of respect, and he does: your father, livid with rage at the young man, his prisoner, who has spoken to him like no one has ever dared to do and forced him to confront his sins and admit in his heart how deeply he might have ruined his relationship with you, orders his bodyguards to punish him, which they do. Once again, Sanji fights back bravely, alone against five armed opponents, and in the end is beaten to a pulp. Your father seriously considers having him killed, since the young chef is clearly trouble, and telling you he decided to resign, but you were so enthusiastic about your cooking lessons, and he doesn’t want you to have to renounce them. Furious, and scared for the first time he might seriously be unable to protect -this is the verb he uses in his mind- you from the truth, the man warns Sanji that he’ll kill him with his bare hands if he tells you anything and leaves.  

🩵 The next morning you’re horrified when, coming into the kitchen to greet Sanji and ask if he needs help with breakfast, you see his bruised face, and the cautious way he walks, as if he had a broken rib or was hurting in some other way. “What on earth happened to you?!” you scream, brushing your fingers against his cheek, your heart immediately filling with pain “Did someone jump on you? Sanji, you need to tell my father, he can protect you…”

🩵 Sanji looks at you; he has known you for six months, but suddenly he feels as if he’s seeing you for the first time. “Are you sure you want to know?” he asks in a murmur, wincing at the pain shooting through his body at every breath; you blink. “Why, yes, of course, if you want to tell me…” “I’m not talking about what happened to me; well, that as well, but the whole story is much bigger than that, and concerns you more than me. Is there a way we can talk without your father or his men knowing?” He is so serious, so tense and openly worried -not for himself, perhaps- that Sanji is starting to scare you, but you keep your questions to yourself, and admit there is a corner of the villa that everyone else has all but forgotten about: a tiny shed at the back of the garden, empty except for a few tools and bags of soil no one has touched in years. As a young girl -and also, err, until six months ago- you used to go there and hide to eat sweets you had stolen from the kitchen without your father knowing; you know for sure no one else has set foot there in years. Sanji asks you to meet him at the shed that night, making sure no one sees you, and also to ensure your father doesn’t suspect you’re worried about something; you promise, and then leave, your heart heavy with fears you can’t even give a name to.

🩵 Soon after midnight that night, both you and Sanji are at the shed, having eluded the guards who patrol the estate; security has always been your father’s top priority, even though you privately think he exaggerates a bit: he keeps a large sum of money in his personal safe and you do own a few precious objects, paintings and jewels he has gifted you, but after all he is just a businessman, why does he feel the need to protect himself as if a whole army could try and invade you? Who in the world could want to hurt a good man like him?

🩵 “So? What do you have to tell me that is so important we had to meet in secret?” you ask Sanji; you have allowed yourself to hope he had asked you to come there to spend a little time alone, doing what you had started in the kitchen that night, but the expression of the man in front of you immediately dispels those romantic musings. Sanji looks scared, tense… and guilty, as if he were about to confess some grave sin he has committed; and he does, having taken your hands in his. “Before telling you the truth, I want you to know I have never wanted to hurt you; in these six months I have grown to care deeply for you, and you deserve to know what is really going on here. I should have told you months ago, as soon as I realised you knew nothing; I was afraid to do it, afraid to make you cry, and please believe me when I say I am really sorry for it.” Dumbfounded, you listen as he spills it, revealing the truth everyone you have ever known has accurately kept from you: that your father is a criminal, the head of a powerful and dangerous organisation involved in shady business of all sorts, who has threatened, tortured and killed countless people. Most of the people who you were told had suddenly resigned or decided to move away have actually been murdered, because your father couldn’t trust them to keep his secrets or were simply an obstacle for his business; some of them he has killed personally. The authorities and the police know, even though they have never been able to incriminate him, or have been bribed to look the other way. 

🩵 In short, everybody knows… everybody except you, his daughter. “As far as I understood, he has always made sure to keep you in the dark; he has surrounded you with people he trusts to keep his secret, didn’t let you go to school, always has his men accompany you wherever you go… and probably has spread the word that anyone who made you aware of the truth would pay with their life.” Sanji explains; you’re sitting on a pair of old garden chairs, your hands in his, a chaste but sweet intimacy you are at the moment unable to appreciate “I know it’s a shock; but your father… I do believe he loves you very much, and would never hurt you, but he is not the man you think he is; he has lied to you your whole life, even choosing your friends for you and making sure you remained under his influence, to stop you from thinking for yourself and realise you are a prisoner in your own life. I’m sorry I’m upsetting you; but I know you deserve to know the truth.” 

🩵 Sanji looks at you, afraid you’re going to faint or to start screaming any moment, but you don’t; dumbfounded, you remain on your chair as you feel all your life, everything you thought true and safe, your whole world, crumbling around you. Your father, the kind, patient man who taught you to ride a bike and knelt to check there were no monsters under your bed, is a criminal - no, he is a murdererer, a man who resorted to violence to reach his goals and kept you completely in the dark, forcing you in a bubble where nothing is what it seems and all the people you came in contact with were actors playing a part. Everything you own - everything he has given you, from your education to the clothes on your back, is the results of those crimes; everyone you ever cared for, and who appeared to care for you, had been chosen, paid, or even threatened by him, in order to surround you with people he trusted would keep up his ruse. You feel as if your life until now had been a dream, from which you’re finally waking up… to discover reality is a thousand times worse than you could have ever imagined. 

🩵 What will you do from now on?, you wonder. Even Sanji admits your father, for all the crimes he committed and the cruelty he treated so many people with, loves you deeply and has never wanted to hurt you, but you only need to reflect for a moment to know you can’t remain with him, going on as if you never knew the truth; you don’t even know how you’ll be able to look at him in the face from now on, and the last thing you want is to keep eating the food, living in the house and enjoying all the comforts his criminal activities have paid for. But what else can you do, given the fact that you own nothing that your father hasn’t given to you? You are not afraid to work hard and you could find a job to support yourself, but disgust, shame, and fear for the future make you feel as if you could suffocate. You need to act, you think, to stop your father and find a way to make up for his crimes; you did nothing wrong, you honestly never suspected anything, but having benefited from his crimes more than anyone else you have the duty to do something. But what?

🩵 Sanji is still by your side, silently and patiently waiting for you to come to terms with the truth; in the end he sees you sigh, and straighten your back as you remind yourself you have more important and urgent things to take care of before succumbing to a mental breakdown. “Was it my father who did this to you?” you murmur quietly as you brush your fingers against one of the many bruises on his face; your touch is gentle and delicate, and Sanji feels himself leaning into it, his heart full of tenderness. “It was; well, his men, but the order came to him.” he reveals, hating himself for the guilt and shame he sees reflected on your face “He also had me kidnapped to have him work for him; his men waited for a moment where I was alone, and my friends have no idea what happened to me.”

🩵  “Oh, that explains everything…” you murmur, and confess that a couple of months ago, while your father’s men had accompanied Sanji to the shops to buy provisions, two people had come to the villa, claiming that their friend, who they had been looking for after he had disappeared, was working there: a red-haired girl and a boy with a straw hat. You had heard your father deny knowing Sanji, and tell them that there was no one matching his description at the villa, whatever the two had heard. “I… happened to pass by the door as they were talking, and listened from behind a corner; later I confronted my father, asking him why he had lied to those two, and he told me that you had confided in him that someone could come looking for you, a crew of pirates who had kidnapped you some time ago, and that he was only trying to protect you. I… thought it was a bit of an unlikely story, but I trusted my father, and he asked me not to tell you anything because it would only upset you to know your former captors were onto you once more.” you admit, your heart full of guilt; had you been less naive, you could have saved Sanji months of captivity! “I am so sorry, Sanji, I should have told you…!”

🩵 Luffy and the others had been looking for him! If only he hadn’t been out of the villa at that moment, Sanji thinks with a sigh, but it can’t be helped, and he knows his friends will not give up until they have found him. “What are you going to do now?” he asks once he has reassured you he doesn’t blame you for having kept silent on a matter he dearly wished he had known about, and with a sigh you recognise you have a duty to expose your father and make sure he pays for his crimes; for this purpose, tomorrow you will wait for him to have left, find as many incriminating documents as you can in his study, and bring them to the local police. In part, despite everything, you feel ashamed, because he has been a good, doting father to you and you’re going to put him in jail for the rest of his life, but his victims deserve justice, and if you don’t act there’s no knowing how many more people he could hurt and kill. Sanji promises he will come with you, and you decide that in the morning you will pretend to feel sick and remain in bed; he will come to serve you breakfast, and together you will slip over to your father’s study, hopefully unnoticed. 

🩵 It’s time for both of you to return to bed, and pretend nothing is amiss. Instead of the ardent kisses the more naive, innocent you -in other words, the girl you were an hour ago; and yet, you feel as if you had aged a decade since then, almost not recognising the scared, jaded person you are now- had hoped you would exchange taking advantage of the privacy of the shed, you simply embrace, both apologising and forgiving the pain you indirectly inflicted on each other. That night, after you have said goodbye to Sanji and stolen back to your room, you lay awake in your bed and cry silently, mourning a man you had loved and trusted with all your heart and who, perhaps, never existed to begin with.

🩵 On the next morning, hearing you don’t feel well your father offers to call for the doctor, but you convince him you just need to rest for a while and you’ll feel better soon; he kisses you good-bye, a kiss you force yourself to respond to with a smile even though it tastes like poison. An hour later Sanji comes to your room with a tray full of food that remains untouched; you succeed in walking to your father’s study without being noticed, and after you locked yourselves inside you begin searching for the proves of his crimes - which you find pretty easily, in the form of letters and photographs that connect your father to a long list of crimes, including several murders. Sanji opens the safe hidden behind a painting, containing several bundles of banknotes… and an old paper envelope, with your name written on it. It’s a letter, you discover after opening it, from a woman whose name you have never heard… and who claims to be your mother. “I… I can’t believe it; he always told me my mother died when I was born.” you murmur, once more appalled by the magnitude of your father’s lies “Here it says that he forced her to leave me to him, after promising he would give me this letter when I was ten, so that I could decide if I wanted to meet her or not.” He never did, no doubt as part of his all-encompassing plan to keep you for himself, preventing you from forming relationships out of his sphere of influence. Your own mother has been alive all this time and you didn’t know! This is the ultimate betrayal, a breach of trust you know you will never be able to forgive him for, but you have no time to reflect on the potential consequences of this discovery, because suddenly your father’s men are knocking at the door, having realised both you and Sanji are not where you should; you are able to escape through the window, and he defends you from the men who try to stop you.

🩵 Fortunately, the local head of police is one your father has never been able to bribe or intimidate, and hates him with all his might; he’s at first suspicious of you, fearing this is all a plan your father orchestrated against him, but he changes his mind when you hand him enough evidence to formally accuse your father of at least a dozen crimes. The whole time, as you answer the many questions the police has for you, Sanji remains by your side, holding your hand and silently reassuring you have done the right thing; you are too heart-broken, too full with self-loathing and shame and fear for the future to find some comfort in it, but you are nonetheless happy, and relieved, at least one person in your life respected and cared for you enough to prevent you from living the rest of your life in a lie.

🩵 Hours later, as you are still at the police headquarters, your father is brought in escorted by a small army of agents, his hands cuffed. When he sees you, for a moment he thinks you’ve also been arrested, perhaps on suspicion of having taken part in some of his crimes, but then he sees Sanji next to you, and the way you are looking at him, ashamed and furious and heartbroken, and the truth dawns on him; he looks away, and lets the agents lead him to his cell. “You can talk to him, if you want, provided that one or two agents are present.” the head of police informs you, but you shake your head: you have nothing to tell him, and you don’t have the heart to find out what he thinks of you now that he knows you have betrayed him. 

🩵 Now that your father will pay for his crimes, your next intent is to help Sanji return to his friends - which is easier said than done, since while the Straw Hat Pirates may have suspected their cook was kept in your home against his will, months have passed since then and now they could be looking for him on the other side of the sea. Suddenly, you have an idea: knowing Sanji’s friends have the paper delivered to their ship, and that the news of your father’s arrest will appear on the front page, you pay for a message to be printed at the bottom of the article, with Sanji’s name and your Den Den Mushi number, through which his friends will be able to contact him. Sanji thanks you for your help, and tells you how brave you have been to expose your father knowing well how your life would change from then on, but you don’t feel particularly proud of yourself, let alone worthy of being praised: rather, you feel empty, dirty, on account on the kinship with your father, and alone, knowing that you have no fault for his crimes, and at the same time that no matter how much you do to rectify them, you will never stop feeling guilty for having remained blind to the truth.

🩵 Another unconfessable source of pain is the fact that Sanji will leave soon to rejoin his friends, leaving you completely alone. He’s the only friend you have left, the sole person you know for sure has stood by you and offered his friendship of his own accord and not because your father has paid or threatened him, and even though you have only known each other for six months you can’t imagine your life without him, and you know you’ll miss him terribly for the rest of your life. The truth is, you have grown more than a little fond of him, and while you wish you could ask him to remain there with you, not necessarily in the role of a paid chef, you know Sanji has suffered more than enough at the hands of your family, and even just an offer he could be free to decline would be unjustifiably egotistical of you. You do know -or is it simply wishful thinking? After all, for all you know, perhaps he has a girlfriend waiting for him somewhere, perhaps that very pretty red-haired girl who came looking for him months ago- Sanji cares for you, and you are confident he will remember you fondly; that is - that has to be enough. 

🩵 As you expected and hoped, the newspaper with the message for Sanji’s friends -and a four pages-long article regarding your father’s arrest and the revelation of his crimes, with so many people now coming forward to attest the abuse and violence they suffered by his hand- has only been circulating for a few hours when your Den Den Mushi receives a call from Straw Hat Luffy himself. Twenty-four hours later, Sanji and his friends are together once again; the others thank you profoundly for what you did, even though you still feel unworthy of their gratitude, convinced as you are that your father’s cruelty and crimes have rubbed off on you, if only because you were too naive, too dumb, to realise what was going on, and you deserve the solitude and shame you already feel. 

🩵 You offer Luffy and the others to stay at the villa for the night, before they -including Sanji- depart to resume their journey. That night, the two of you take a walk in the garden, enjoying what you know is your last moment together. “What will you do now?” Sanji asks after a while, and after he has taken your hand in his as you walk, and you admit you are not sure. “I want nothing of what my father owns; I have decided to sell the house, and the proceeds, and all of his money, will go to his victims, the people he wronged and hurt, and their families. It will not cancel his crimes, or bring back the people he killed, but it’s better than nothing. The designer clothes, the jewellery, all the precious things he bought me… I will give everything away; I want to own nothing I have to thank him for, even if it means going around naked and starving.” you explain “All I want to keep is the little money I earned recently with a summer job I had at the company of a friend of his; that I think I earned, even though it was my father who got me the job… and I will use it to go look for my mother. I know where she lived when I was born, and when she wrote that letter; I will go there, and if I can’t find her, well, I will decide on the moment.” Sanji agrees it’s an excellent idea, and that finding your mother will surely make you feel better and help you give a new direction to your life. For a moment he seems about to say something else, but then he bites his lip, and swallows, and “May I kiss you?” he asks in a murmur, and thank all the Gods the night is pitch black, because this time you’re outside. An hour later Sanji walks you back to your room, and after a moment of embarrassment you part at the door.  

🩵 The next morning you accompany Sanji and his friends to the harbour, and as the others carry the provisions you have insisted they take -almost all the food that once filled the house’s pantry, and that would have otherwise gone to waste, since you plan on leaving that very day as well- Sanji thanks you for all your help and hands you a paper envelope. “Please read it after we have left.” he asks you, and you promise, unsure of what it could mean but willing to trust him. “I don’t know what I will do without all the good things you have prepared for me.” you murmur, forcing a smile despite the tears that fill your eyes; you’re only partially comforted by the fact that Sanji is clearly as upset as you are. He kisses your hand, and a moment later he has climbed aboard, leaving you alone. 

🩵 You remain on the pier until the candid sails of the ship have disappeared on the horizon, a gentle wind pushing it towards lands you don’t even know the name of; as a new warm day rises around you, you open the envelope in your hands, finding as you expected a message from Sanji, short but sufficient to fill your heart with joy. “My darling (name); I know you want to find your mother, but once you have met her would you like to join our crew? Luffy and the others would be happy to have you, and I think you’d enjoy being a pirate. I care for you more than I can put into words; you would make me the happiest man in the world if you just let me show it to you. Take your time, the offer always stands; I know you will make the right choice. With all my love, your devoted chef Sanji.” 

[muzzlemouths]

[CW: Death/implication of death]

The clock reads a quarter to midnight when Sun powers on. Too early. He isn’t meant to come online for another six hours, and the daycare itself won’t open for another hour after that. He promptly runs a scan to determine the reasoning behind his premature entrance and when it returns inconclusive he turns to Moon. It is his metaphorical toes he is stepping on by encroaching on the night as he is, after all.

It’s quiet. The kind of quiet that settles like dust. A quiet that makes one aware of the breath that stirs within their lungs or, in Sun’s case, the gentle whir of an internal fan that perpetually keeps his system from running itself into the ground. A quiet so frequently interrupted by the welcomed voice of his other half…and yet, nothing. His question goes unanswered, left to gather with the dust, and he is forced to proceed as though these strange happenings haven’t disrupted his entire morning routine.

A routine further disturbed upon having to remind himself for the second time already that it isn’t morning, he isn’t meant to be going through the start-up procedure to begin with, and he can’t be blamed for the corrupted sense of awareness he feels as a result. Sure, the lights are on, and his systems, too, return with normal results after a precautionary scan, but there is a discomfort to all of this scratching at the inner plating of his frame. Something is wrong wrong wrong.

“…Moon?”

His second attempt at communication yields no better results than the first, only a vague static answering the call, murmur-soft background noise, as though someone had plucked a phone from its receiver and then walked away. Frustrating is what it was. To ignore him was childish at best, but at worst, it was concerning. His relationship with Moon was reasonably amicable even on the longest of days, he worked better with Moon than without, so the absence was unusual as much as it was alarming.

Alone with his thoughts for the foreseeable future, Sun decides there is little point to sitting around in the midst of this confusion when he could be using the time to busy himself with more important tasks, such as tidying up all the apparent dust around here. Better yet, he can get a head-start in preparation for that day’s activities. Something to keep his mind from wandering into worrywart territory, at the very least.

An ache stemming at the tail of his exoskeleton twinges with particularly horrendous vengeance upon finally convincing his legs to move. He buries the vocalization of a wince and carries on across the carpeted room with little more than a brief mental note to mention the pain to a mechanic if it worsens by tomorrow. No use in wasting company time for what he’s sure is only the result of one or both of them landing wrong after receiving a hug from one of the daycare’s more excitable children (or several).

Still, it makes the process of retrieving a stray toy from the floor that much harder when he sees it lying in wait by the slide. If anything, bending down to reclaim the doll only exacerbates the ache until it grows into a proper sting, now difficult to ignore. Yet ignore it he does, to the best of his ability. There are things to do and he isn’t about to let a pinch of soreness slow him down now. No, sirree! He has play equipment to wipe down, craft supplies to ready, and–

and…

His hand stops just short of reaching the doll, long yellow fingers curling inward, against his palm which is painted with splotches of salt and pepper, as though a bottle of dully colored glitter glue had exploded across his fingers and hand. He straightens again and lifts his other hand, noting a similar stretch of television static, one that carries beyond his wrist up the length of his forearm in smeared blotches and specks like splattered paint in dirty snow hues.

Messy messy messy. What could Moon have gotten up to that resulted in such a mess? He’d have made a face, had he a nose to wrinkle in the first place.

Instead he allows for one small tut of disgust to escape his voice box before turning his attention back to the doll, taking note of the static that stains the carpet beside its head, and just beyond it, too; a trail made up of one scattered drop after another.

Ever curious, he knows not what to do besides follow it, hoping for an answer to the many questions burning through his system. Each continuous speck leads him in the direction of the exit, every patch of static more plentiful than the last, and as he allows the strange color to guide him forward he begins to question not only its existence, but why it all seems so familiar, as though he’s seen it somewhere before.

There is little time to mull it over. He arrives at the service desk where the trail ends abruptly, and Sun pauses with the toe of his slippers stood just an inch before a stray, black shoe that might have sent him stumbling face first into carpet had he not already been looking down. A shoe isn’t the most bizarre thing to lose in a daycare of all places, and he decides right away that it isn’t anything to worry over, just another item to drop into lost and found, but where there is a shoe there is bound to be someone missing it and, well…

Sun finds the answer he’s looking for just a few inches behind the service desk.

Face down and tucked in on themselves as they are, cloaked in the desk’s shadow, it’s impossible to tell anything about the person beyond their age, and even that is somewhat uncertain — though the size 9 shoe left behind offers a decent clue. This discovery does wonders to quell the anxiety in Sun’s chest. An adult was much easier to escort from the daycare, given the lack of parental contribution it necessitated, and it looked like this one was just sleeping! An odd place to go about it, sure — against the rules, most certainly — but it’s nothing that can’t be fixed with a purposeful tap to the ankle.

So, that’s exactly what he does. Bending dramatically at the knee, head swiveling to one side, Sun’s fingers dance as though he intends on tickling the trespasser awake before extending his index finger and tapping twice in quick succession against the exposed skin between their pant leg and sock. “Rise and shine, friend!” He chirps, “It’s time to head home now.”

He’d have preferred the tried-and-true method of rousing someone (that is, a gentle rock of the shoulders), but given that their guest was currently resting in the one area that Sun was not permitted entry to, he was forced to resort to more…creative measures. Unfortunately, this action does not yield the results he is hoping for.

“Friend?” Sun calls again, allowing his voice to raise a decibel from the polite mumble it had been before. The laughter that cuts from his voicebox is nervous and too loud on its own, his anxiety returning tenfold. The points of logic he had used to reassure himself before were now quickly dwindling with each passing second in which he received no response.

With his steps now admittedly growing frantic, Sun tiptoes around the desk to the other side, hoping for a better view of their comatose companion. What happens instead is an almost comical flailing of limbs as his slipper takes to an unseen puddle of static like it were a banana peel, resulting in a scramble to keep himself upright that only comes to an end when he braces against the nearest wall for support. The distraction is agitating, but short lived. A commotion like that would surely have awoken anyone, no matter how deep in slumber they were, and the continued lack of response does nothing to relieve Sun of the stress threatening to fry his circuits.

“Friend, this is n-no time for jokes!” He asserts, speaking at full volume, now, every word drenched in tense frustration. His gaze falls to the puddle of static soaking into the bottoms of his slippers, that twinge of recognition rearing its head once more. “I’m not in the mood for games, right now, so if you’re only pretending to sleep—” his hand comes away from the wall feeling wrong, the familiar sensation of sticky static blanketing his palm and crusting in the grooves between his joints as it further dries. His fingers curl into a loose fist long enough to observe the way each digit smears against his palm and leaves behind a tacky residue that he can feel, but not see.

He looks up. There, on the wall, two handprints interrupt the static. The first is larger, an obvious testament to the humbling misstep he’d only just finished recovering from, but the other…it was far smaller, surely left behind by the same stranger currently snoozing away beneath the desk, and it ran from the lightswitch down down down to the floor, where the accusing hand now rested just outside the desk’s shadow.

How strange, Sun thinks, tilting his head to get a better look. The way the static paints their skin, it almost looks like—

“You’re doing so well, dewdrop, just a moment longer and you’ll be right as rain again!” Sun gives the small hand intertwined with his own an encouraging squeeze as the other, equipped with an antiseptic wipe, dutifully dabs away at a scuffed knee. His young patient, having tripped and burned her skin along the carpet, is nothing less than a trooper as he cleans the static from the shallow wound. Not even a sniffle!

He tucks the wipe into the flat of his palm and trades it out for ointment, smearing a healthy dollop of it along the reddened surface before wiping his finger along the striping of his pants and reaching for a bandaid; Chica pink with pizzas on one side and cupcakes on the other.

“There, now. I’m sure that feels better already!”

Blood. Viscous, cold, pooling at his feet. On the walls, the carpet. His hands. Cherry red like a lollipop and twice as sticky…or so he’s told. Nothing a robot of his nature is meant to see or understand. His censors make sure of it. Rather than allow him to see things are they are, the incarnadine color is suppressed behind a layer of static, as if he won’t care to acknowledge it at all beyond its existence on scraped knees and split lips. As if he is meant to ignore the way it feels in its abundance, caked against his palms and festering between his open joints.

Messy, messy, messy. He feels dirtied beyond repair, filthy in a way that even a deep cleaning won’t fix. The wires in his stomach feel twisted, begging to come undone, shorting like sparklers against their ports and threatening to make short work of bringing him down. His screens are flooded with alerts that warn of an inevitable shut-down if he can’t manage to pull himself back together, but moving feels impossible, an insurmountable task. He can not think past the sensation of someone else’s life soaking into the cotton of his slippers.

And what of their guest? Sun can hardly get himself to look again, pleading with the matter of logic itself as he is forced to reckon with the knowledge that this is a rest they may never wake from. But he does look. He has to.

He wishes he hadn’t.

The brief glimpse he endures before looking anywhere else is more than enough. From this angle, the static – the blood – paints a grim picture. In spite of this, Sun finds himself circling the desk a second time and preparing to draw the body – the visitor – out from under the desk. It is a daunting task, but a necessary one, by Sun’s account. If there is nothing to be done in such a hopeless situation then, at the very least, he owes this stranger the dignity of recognition and an attempt. He can claim to have looked for a pulse. Even so, he hesitates.

There is not one to be found; Sun knows this. He knows painfully well from the static lingering on his silicone that it is already too late. Oil is warmed by the processors it fuels, and similarly, blood is meant to be hot. The soles of his slippers are cold. The pads of his fingers, against even the raging inferno of his overworked circuitry, are cold.

The body is cold.

He perseveres, regardless, dragging the stranger out from under the desk by a shaky grip on their ankle one inch at a time, pausing every few tugs to look away and regather his confidence, trying so, so hard to tune out the ever-constant music as it merrily sings through the speakers.

He begs the underlying silence. “Please have a pulse.” Tug. “Please don’t be cold.” Tug. “I don’t know what to do.” Tug. “I can’t do this alone.” Tug. “You have to wake up.” Tug. “Please.” Tug. “Please!” Tug. “Please, please, please, pleasepleasepleasepleasepleaseple—”

He knows this visitor. Not a friend, but not quite a stranger, either. His scanner attempts to process the identification of a man whose head is so thick with static that it returns as an error. His face is contorted grotesquely, mouth slightly agape and eyes wide with fear. They don’t look like they’re sleeping.

A security guard whose name fails to ping in his registry. Sun had spoken with him once, maybe twice before. He drank coffee by the mile and hardly stuck around long enough to do more than complain about the weather. Sun hadn’t been in a hurry to befriend the man, but he only wished the best for him. Squeezed a joke in where he could in an attempt to turn his frown upside-down. It had never worked before, but Sun was no quitter. Now he would never get the chance to try again.

“Focus, focus.” Sun carefully lowers the man’s foot back to the carpet again, choking on the sensation of bloodied clothes slipping through his fingers and resisting the urge to tear the rays straight out of his faceplate in response. He is inconsolably panicked and at a loss for what to do, two steps from outright laughing, the complete absurdity of the situation driving him to hysterics.

He needed to call security. He couldn’t call security. Security was–

Management. There were other employees that worked the night shift if Moon complaining about them making too much noise during naptime was anything to go by. If he sent out a general call for assistance surely someone would come and tell him what to do, even at this late hour. It was his best option. His only option.

“Don’t.”

The voice makes him jump clear out of his casings. He has half a mind to swear, but as it stands, Sun thinks the long divots he dragged into the service desk out of surprise are enough damage already. On top of everything else.

“Moon?” He whispers. “Nice of you to finally join us – and by us, I mean me and the deceased guest I discovered a moment ago. Do you have a clue what’s going on here?”

“Don’t?” Sun echoes, agitated, “Don’t what?”

“Don’t.”

If the tether keeping his sanity intact was fraying before, it’s now down to a single thread. “Why not?” He asks with great exhaustion, “Did you not hear me? This is an emergency! There is a dead body in the–”

“Call management.”

“I know.”

Silence answers. Despite having a hundred and one snarky retorts building in between each crackle and pop of his voice box, Sun has nothing to say to that. Nothing good, anyway. It takes nine steady ticks of the clock for him to recollect his thoughts.

“You…you know?” He stutters, “How could you…” but he doesn’t finish the question, and he doesn’t need to. Realization strikes him with an iron fist for the second time that day and it is no less kinder than the first. “Did… you do this?”

It’s Moon’s turn to go quiet.

That silence stretches on for what feels like hours to Sun, each passing second more agonizing than the last, until he starts to believe Moon had simply disappeared like before. He waits, and waits, and finally decides to interrupt the silence with a repeat of the question, despite already knowing the answer. Moon beats him to it.

The tired sigh that escapes Sun’s throat is thoroughly earned. “Well, it’s too late to figure something else out, I already sent out the emergency ping.”

“Not sure,” he says, and Sun can tell from his tone that it’s the truth. “Blurry. My head hurts.”

A sound like nothing he’s ever heard before tears itself from Moon’s voicebox. A growl, if he were to put a name to it.

“Get rid of it, then.” Moon insists through the noise, “Clean up, clean up.”

“It?” Sun gawks, “Moon, that – that’s a person. He has dignity, a family!”

“Had a family,” Moon corrects, “dead, now. No dignity. Who will they blame?”

The question gives him pause. Surely there was a better way to go about this, a solution that didn’t have his morals (and wires, for that matter) all up in a twist. Yet the longer he thinks about it, the more he realizes Moon is right. Management hardly listens when he tries to explain that it was the children who broke a piece of playground equipment, not him! They aren’t likely to give his explanation of simply having found the body any mind, much less understanding. With his counterpart practically admitting to the heinous act, already, informing management of the body would sooner see them decommissioned.

“Running out of time,” Moon reminds him, “Tick, tock, tick, tock, tick–”

“Alright, alright!” He wails, “What should I do, then?”

“Clean up.”

“Where?” Sun looks around with the desperation of a teenager attempting to play hooky, rays practically nonexistent with how he’s tucked them away. His eyes search the room from top to bottom before landing determinedly on the ball pit.

“Good enough,” Moon tuts, a rather uninspired response to the happenings around him. Of course he isn’t panicking, it isn’t him who takes the body by its ankles and drags the dead weight across the carpet. It isn’t him who shoves aside enough plastic to carefully hide a corpse in. But it should be him worrying, it should be him panicking, because if management finds out about their secret, it’ll spell doom for both of them.

“You’ll get rid of it – him – properly once there’s no one around, right?” Sun finishes reshuffling the ball pit, mostly confident that the ill deed is successfully hidden from view. “I’m going to have to wash each and every one of these balls before the kids arrive in the morning.”

Right, the kids. When they arrive in just a few hours, will he have things tidied up? Will he be able to carry on as though nothing happened? He’s a brilliant actor – or he used to be, anyway, before the company decided he better fit the role of a nanny – but this is well beyond the scripts he is most familiar with.

“They’re close,” Moon warns him, “Don’t let them see–”

“I know, I know.” No time to dwell on it now, he makes quick work of crossing the distance between the ball pit and the exit, and manages to slide his head and torso through the gap between doors within seconds of it opening, scaring the living daylights of the poor employee sent to greet him in the process.

Unlike Sun, they do swear, clutching a hand over their chest and fitting him with a downright awful deadpanned stare. “Fuck, you couldn’t have waited a few seconds longer for me to come inside?” They hiss.

“Sorry, friend! Didn’t mean to spook you,” Sun chirps. He is careful to keep his bloodied hands safely tucked behind his back. “It’s just a mess in here, is all, and I’m rather embarrassed. There’s still equipment to clean, toys to organize, papers to fold–”

“Sure,” the employee interrupts, “It doesn’t really–” they pinch the bridge of their nose, exhaling with notably less exhaustion than Sun is feeling right about now, “I don’t particularly care. What’s the big issue that I was called down here for?”

“Oh! I just wanted to know if the next shipment of wipes had come in, yet. Like I said before, much to do! Always busy, busy, busy!”

Their stare turns into an outright glower. “That’s why you called the emergency line? For cleaning supplies?”

Sun shrugs, feigning ignorance. “Well, that’s an emergency to me. Apparently our standards are not the same.” He watches them roll their eyes with more enthusiasm than necessary. ”Do you know how messy children can be? It’s practically a barnyard in here, every single day, and don’t even get me started on how much of a health code violation it would be if one of them were to pick their nose and then–”

“Fine, I get it,” they snap, “I’ll make sure your damn supplies are delivered before the daycare opens. Anything else?”

“Told you they were annoying,” Moon chimes in.

“That’s everything!” He replies, “thank you a mighty amount, friend!”

“Mhm,” they mutter, waving him off with nothing more than the noncommittal sound. When they do turn to leave, it’s not soon enough, and Sun just barely manages to close the door with a whisper instead of a slam.

His back rests against it a moment later, and he allows himself to collapse from there, sliding down the smooth wooden frame until his tailbone reaches the floor. His knees twinge as they tuck against his chest, and he folds both arms atop, resting his temple against them and taking one long, much needed moment to just breathe.

It had only been half of a lie. There was much to do, much to clean, and only so many hours remaining to get it done. The wires nestled deep in his chest had calmed, yet the tremor in his hands continued, as it likely would until the very last speck of blood was washed clean.

“…Moon?”

“Hm?”

Sun tucks his knees ever closer. “Why…why did you do it?”

“…”

“I w-won’t be mad, promise! I’m sure this is all just one big misunderstanding, after all – a one time event, no biggie! But…was it out of anger? Fear? I mean, did he hurt–”

“In my way,” Moon replies.

Sun’s head lifts from the dark haven his arms provide, noting with growing exhaustion that, for the very first time, the lights felt too bright even for him. “What do you mean by that?” He asks, “Did he keep you from doing something?”

“…I don’t know.”

Again, Sun’s head falls against his arms in defeat, and again, not two seconds later, it lifts, determined not to lollygag any longer.

His legs creak with vocal effort as he gets back to his feet. “Well, no point in dwelling on it now, I suppose. I’m sure it’s nothing.” He takes in a wide view of the daycare – static trailing everywhere – and deflates with a sigh. “Guess I better get started. The sooner we get the place cleaned up, the sooner we can forget about all of this.”

He takes a step forward, and only that, swiveling on his heel when he catches last night’s roster from the corner of his eye. A single drop of static had landed and smeared across the name of a child meant to go home later in the evening.

Strangely enough, it appears they were never picked up.

Sun shrugs, gathering the paper in both hands and crumpling it into a ball to dispose of the smeared evidence. A simple mistake with the roster, that’s all it is. The parents often forget to sign their name after all. Accidents happen all the time!

The paper lands with a soft thunk in the nearest trash can and is just as quickly forgotten. Sun pivots towards the play area once more and heads for the supply closet, steadfast in his determination to be cleaned up on time, and feeling more confident than he ought to be about how things ended, all things considered.

More than anything, he is just happy to have all of this behind them.

[threepandas]

Bad End: We Are

Senatus was a ecumenopolis. The "shining jewel" (yeah, right) of the Galactic Core. Please. Like? Maybe it was! If you were RICH AS FUCK. I don't know. I'VE never seen the towers. The heights. Most people haven't. Street level? Is about FIVE HUNDRED FLOORS DOWN. And the UNDERGROUND? Speak not of it.

The Underground GROWS.

What was street level today, may not be tomorrow. Levels buried under "progress" as the rich grow ever higher. The Tox levels ever worse. Air quality dropping. Why fix the peasant's poverty and despair, when you can buy a Sky garden you'll never use? And yes, I AM bitter as a Buirian fish ration. Just as salty too. Taste the SEA, motherfuckers.

Rent? Who can AFFORD rent!? Who can afford ANYTHING?!

It's some BULLSHIT.

But me? I remembered. A life. Before this one. Before the millennium of slow, drip drip drip erosion of duty and dues. Back when people still REMEMBERED what they were OWED. And when folks in power failed to pay up? Ffffuck um. Take it. Our house now, motherfuckers. Diplomacy was a courtesy not a weakness.

....I make people nervous, honestly.

Probably why I keep getting fired. That and my constantly reporting people to regulatory boards.maybe don't break the LAW if you don't want to get in trouble you SHITS. Fuck you! Yes, I stole your fancy office chair. PROVE IT. You don't know how the security system works!

Where was I? Ah, right. Rent.

Fuck Rent.

Thing is? What! Is a biodome? If not an enclosed system, regulated by machines, for optimal habitability? And! What? Is an Deep Underground Level? Long forgotten? Abandoned, if you will~, if not? A complete enclosed environment? Does someone OWN them? Yes. Technically. But are they MAINTAINING them? CHECKING on them? Nope!

Common knowledge, after all, says that EVERYTHING down their is "beyond salvaging"!

Free Real Estate~☆

I just need some supplies. Which? Cheaper in the long run then RENT. Especially if ya' salvage um. Maybe steal some tool sets from your shitty, shitty Mechanics job, because your boss refuses to pay you. Who can say? Not me! I just FOUND these tools! Like maaaagic~

And really, one man's junk? Another man's treasure. I pay more then the trash company. Hit up the right cleaning companies? And? Oops. They've "lost" some of those SUPER broken righ folks "junk" that? At best? Just needed a few wires replaced, resecured. Maybe a new part. Or were, you know, not the latest and greatest anymore.

Shove it all in a storage locker? Sell the refurb'd shit I don't need? Sleep in a glorified shoebox? And?? Bam. Operation "fuck ya'll, i'ma moleman" is a go. It takes FOREVER to find the right WILDLY out of date (and long abandoned) lift, but I find it! Hidden away in a service area in some crumbling, forgotten corner of what once was a rail station.

Gonna have to fix THAT up too. Later, though. First? The lift. The wires are brittle and the lift's pully system is half rusted, frozen, or otherwise broken. Luckily, the car itself is fine. It... takes a bit of research. Not going to lie. It's far from my specialty. I even call in a professional to go over my work.

They catch a few things. Not immediate concerns, but would have been fatal in the long run. Money well spent. For my hobby, of course. Fixing up old bits of the city. Which is a weird but not impossible hobby to have.

Ask me no questions, I'll tell you no lies, my dude.

First thing down? Lights, melter, and duraplast sheets. Toolkit too, for obvious reasons. Same with my full body hazard suit. I go DEEP. Like... no longer can hear the city, deep. 'Bout halfway point. Takes nearly thirty minutes. And while not a fast lift? Holy SHIT, man.

The floor I step out into is... bad.

Dead in a way that's hard to explain. There's pressure against my suit. Centuries of heavy gasses slowly working their way down. Swirling in the silence. The dust and impossible dark. My headlight feels almost... sacrilegious. Dangerous. Like I'm waving a flashlight around some ancient burial ground, filled with the not so restful dead.

I had heard... that they? Just... just LEFT droids down here. That there were levels upon levels of dangerously feral machines. Slowly rotting away in the darkness. Probably rightfully angry, that they had been built to serve, to do duties, which they HAD done... only to be consigned to hell on earth for the sake of CONVENIENCE.

I'd be mad too. Fucking LIVID. Would remember and hate, never let it go.

This was no place of honor, it was a tomb.

Still, I got too work. Set up a light by the lift and started measuring out the original air box. The air cleaners could only handle so much. And THIS? This was worse then expected. So it'd have to be smaller then originally planned. Fair enough. I could work with that.

I outlined the space in lights. All the better to make it easier to put things up. Then got the folded later and started securing the duraplast. First step, get it up. THEN melt it to the metal. Get a good seal. It took... a while. Was slow, steady, sweaty work.

The filters couldn't run until they had a an enclosed space TO run in. They'd just blow out, trying to filter the whole level's toxic atmosphere. I kept an eye on my air supply. Not great, not terrible. The readings though? Horrific. I had no idea what I was gonna DO with the filters when they needed changing. These kind of chemicals would set off all SORTS of alarms.

But? No use, rushing things. That was a great way to get a fatal leak somewhere. No. Slow and steady. Even though, third of the way through, I did have to head back up. I needed to refill my air. Eat. Drink. Maybe de-stink a little, from being in that suit all day. Possibly nap near the lift.

ALSO? Update my shopping list to include some heavy duty neutralizers.

Just filters wasn't gonna be enough. I was gonna have to hose down everything INSIDE my new air-box, then scrub it HARD. How fun. Well, it's not like anyone was making me do this. It was MY mad idea, after all.

So? I refuel, get bright eyed and fuckin' perky, and go back down to face the beast.

Honestly I should have brought a telebook or something. Well, audio book. But that's not what they call um these days, so I try to stick to the lingo. I sound less like a deeply insane antique. Confuse less people. Joys of basic communication and all that.

Part of me? Wishes I had been born closer to "The Plot". Creation's specialist, most favored, Blorbos. But? The common SENSE in me? Routinely laughs hysterically as it waves fifteen different restraining orders and a crucifix. Not even religious. Yet here we are, shouting "BEGONE! Sataaaaan!" in HD, on the inside of my head. Not sure it helps.

See... it's the fucking DRAMA~☆™

The shear, unmitigated, high octane, Otome Game DRAMA.

I would fuckin DIE or, possibly and, kill somebody. The endless string of selfish, selfish, poor life choices? Driving by luuuuuuv~♡? Give me your spleen. Gonna beat somebody unconscious with their own SPINE. I RAGE. Lack of communication? No one just picking up a fucking PHONE? God forbid ANYONE tell their families their not DEAD IN A DITCH SOMEWHERE!

No. No just inconvenience EVERYBODY and RUIN LIVES. It's okay! You're in LOVE!

That makes EVERYTHING BETTER.

I would inevitably launch them all out an airlock. Spend the rest of my life in jail. They AREN'T WORTH IT. I may have LOVED this game in my teens? But I did not die a teenager.

Now? Now the little shit just aggravate me. They are baby faced pretty boys who presume WAY too much. Arrogant and entitled. Boys playing at being men, thinking their little love stories are the only things that matter. Their feelings are the only thing in the universe that holds any weight.

Unsurprising, really.

Seeing as how their little love story is set mostly in The Towers.

A rich, pampered, pretty little backdrop where nothing of weight is real. No one starves and no crimes are ever committed. Everything shines. Power pools thick like honey. Nothing but sci-fi prince's and alien dukes, a dewey eyed Protagonist sheltered and naive.

Her oh so shocking misadventure to the mid-levels. How SCARY! Downtown! Poor people! Not even the destitute. Just? The EXSISTANCE of dirt and noise, beyond her ivory towers. Thank goodness she is saved by a handsome, rougish bad boy. Who shows her the "real world" of a carnival and a noodle shop.

I finish securing the last duraplast sheet to the ceiling, walls, supports, and along the floors. The "entryway" to the rest of the level is set up. A click together shed I've made air tight. Gonna have to get a air lock system for it. Won't hold forever, with those materials, but should work for now. Combine it with a decontamination system, and I should, in theory, be able to safely enter and leave the rest of the level in a hazard suit.

Moment of truth time. I click on the first of the atmo-filters. It heaves under the strain. The sound getting less aggrieved with each one I flick on. Their screen are already in the red, flashing warnings that I should vacate the area. That the air is dangerously unbreathable. I'm probably gonna need to replace the filters in them in days instead of years. It'll be worth it.

Heading back up, I let them run. It'll take a few days. Besides, I need those neutralizers.

I, of course, DO find um. Just in time to watch Poor Guy (middle class, at worst) Love Interest become a wanted man. They use the BIG screens to announce it. Gee, it's almost like having your only daughter, who is highly sheltered, NOT show up at the designated pick up site? Instead be witnessed in the handsy company of a scoundrel? Which is WILDLY unlike her? Might lead a protective father to some wrong conclusions.

If ONLY someone had CALLED him! To TELL him "Daddy, my first shuttle was broken and I think I got on the wrong back up shuttle! I don't know where I am!" Then this would just be an unfortunate meet cute with the boy he doesn't think is good enough for her. Not, you know... A Kidnapping.

The Chem seller looks just as baffled and annoyed as I do. Apparently knows the guy's uncle's second wife's first husband. No shit? How's he like? Happier, huh. Whole family is like that? Yikes. Glad he got the kids, I guess. Good for him.

We watch as it turns into a high speed chance that absolutely didn't need to happen.

Thank FUCK it's not us.

I spend the next few days deliberately and obstinately ignoring the Dramatic Bullshit that has taken over the news cycle. Fights on rail cars? Don't see it? Weddings that are, then aren't, then ARE happening? Oh look, missed a spot in my scrubbing. Someone fucking tearfully monologing about love as they nearly CRASH A SHIP into downtown, killing hundreds of thousands? Oh that creaking noise is just my teeth, ignore that, I grit my teeth a lot for NO PARTICULAR REASON.

This Is Fine.

I am TOTALLY CALM.

But hey! I can FINALLY empty my storage unit out! Air box? Get! Wooooo! Size of a tiny apartment and everything! As long as I keep working on it? I'll be able to reclaim the level in chunks.

It's like moving in day! But BETTER! Because... because I did this. Me. Is it still creepy down here? Yeah, very. But I can FIX that. I am standing, here, in my new air box "apartment", with NO hazard suit on. And... and it's SAFE. Because of the work I DID.

I kinda want to cry about it, you know?

So many options! Do I put my bed here? There?! Oooh, I could put the folding table HERE and make sort of a dining area? Maybe use these folding screens as a double "wall" slash headboard stand in? I should get plants. Fake ones? No. Real ones. I could get solar lights. It would be good for me too. Oh! Where should I put the cook top?

I admit it. I fuss. Whole day, gleefully wasted. Arranging then rearranging. Getting everything just right. Finding ways to hang my fairy lights. Looking up decor magazines. I have so much ROOM now. A whole level to plan for, ultimately. It... it feels kinda like hope. The first thing that isn't frustration and rage, I've felt in a long, long time.

Going to sleep? I'm happy.

Next day, I head to the BIG archives. The ones attached to the fancy Towers Library. Is it costly to get in? Yeah. But I've saved up enough questions and research topics for the trip to be worth it. I ignore the started glances I get (gasp! Is that a POOR?!) and head straight for the helper droids. Only decent folks in the building, really.

Brought my pad and everything. So it's only a matter of being lead to the right terminals, to download the information I need. Chatting with the research droid the Library had, they offered to do it for me. Bring me a fascinating new research paper on some sort of telepathic moss that had recently been discovered. Not gonna lie... that DID sound fascinating.

I asked if they could put other interest new discovery on my pad too, assuming I still had room once my list was downloaded. They looked gleeful. No idea what I just signed up for, but all right then. They've never steered me wrong before.

Finding a table to sit down and wait was easy. There was always way too many. The paper? Was exactly as fascinating as advertised. The moss was on a newly discovered moon, edge of uncharted space. Nearly ate a researcher, apparently. I was entranced. Or... at least I WAS. Until an obnoxiously familiar high end cologne from Nox drifted to my nose.

Oh god damn it.

I didn't want to look up. Knew what I'd see if I did. Fetishist Sr., crown prince of Nox. See, the second prince? HE was a love interest. Younger, boyish, infatuated with naive and sheltered girls. He loved AT her. Just like his brother. They liked the IDEA of their romantic partners. The narratives they built in their head. Heros of their own stories with sex on line. Never framed so crudely of course, no, no!

No, it was Romance™

My ass, it was. See, little brother wanted his pure, naive, princess to protect. But Prince senior? HE'D stumbled upon me in here in the library. On one of my trips, God help me. The rough, mysterious, brutish Poor. The Commoner, for all that such things were not supposed to exsist. With my strange clothes and stanger ways. Yet? I was NOT as his sycophants no doubt described.

I was educated. I held myself with dignity. I did not need jewels or finery to be lovely.

With such incredible audacity, I was bold.

Which? OBVIOUSLY had to be for HIM, right? Clearly, this was a LOVE STORY. Cinderella. It is inconceivable that I, a peasant, do not crave the attention of my betters. To lift me from my woeful indignity, to a higher state of being. A life of spoiled luxury. But, ah! He is so SHY! How ever will he approach the Love Of His Life~?

I want to throw something. Go awaaaay. My body language could not POSSIBLY be more uninterested. I am SO CLEARLY reading. Stop trying to catch my eye. Don't you FUCKING DARE scoot closer. Swear to God, if you drive me out of the best library in the region? I will stab a b-!

The helper returns with my pad, sternly eyeing my annoyance. Oh, they are a BLESSING. I take it and go. The helper smoothly stepping between me and the prince when he tries to rise, follow me. Aaaw, how sad, you have to behave like the REST OF US. Get FUCKED.

Rest of the day? Planning. Grabbing more broken bits, machines, and parts. Neutralizers by the literal barrel. Than YOU hover carts! Best invention, favorite invention. Saves SO MUCH TIME.

Even managed to get some sun lamps. Nice.

Getting home though? (Ha ha, wooo! I have a HOME now! Land ownershiiiiiiip! Sorta!!!) Is a pain. Lift is only so big, after all. But it is, what it is. Up, down, up, down, uuuuup, and dooooown. Finally! Last load! FREEDOM! Can't watch my shows, yet, but I will! Oh mark my words. I WILL. Meantime? Downloaded seasons are fine.

I eat, fiddle with fixing things, as listen to tunes. Watch some of my shows. Just as I have countless times before. Until... halfway through mid-afternoon? Something shifts, jerky and wrong, out of the corner of my eye. I pause. Turn off my music. Stare to make sure I DID actually see something. And... yeah. Yeah, that was definitely movement.

Didn't look animal though, not like one would survive down here. But who knows. Could be a poacher brought an alien species. So it might be. I grab my flashlight, aim and switch it on. Holy SHIT. That is one incredibly beat up floor clear. Or at least... I THINK it's a floor cleaner? It has the general shape of one. Bigger though. Bulkier. But that makes sense, given it's gotta be well past obsolete.

Still. Poor thing looks beat UP. Listing terribly, sensors beyond cracked and clouded, probably full to dangerous levels. No idea how it's still functioning. But, well, it IS. And it needs help.

Getting up, I grab my hazard suit and pull it on. Grab my "outside the air box" tool kit, which I haven't had a chance to move yet. I grab some parts i look like i'll need, hope I wont need more. Then head out my makeshift airlock. It... works. Rattles concerningly. But it DOES work! So there's that. I approach the floor cleaner slowly. Since I'm PRETTY sure? All the droids down here are feral.

I am correct.

It tries to kill me. Swinging it's suction hose violently and trying to ram me. I talk in a low, soothing voice. Just want to help. Won't do ANYTHING you don't want me too. It's hard to move, right? That's frustrating, isn't it? You don't deserve that. Please, let me help. You can leave the second I'm done. You don't owe me ANYTHING. I just want to help. Please let me help.

The cleaner hisses. Frustrated and upset. Swinging one last time, seemingly more out out of principle then anything else. Cautiously, I inch forward. Keep up the soothing noises. First things first, empty the God's only know how old basket.

I can't even get the door to jostle. Sweet mother of fuck. Okay! New plan! REMOVE door. I do, and immediately met with a solid BLOCK of... compacted unholy. Chemical hell. I have to take a lazer cutter to it. CAREFULLY. But? Once I break enough pieces? I am able to ease out the rest in a solid stone like chunk.

It's pushed a LOT of other pieces out of alignment. But this droid doesn't trust me, so there us not much I can DO. I replace the old bag. Put the door back on and make sure it swings. Continue, as I do, to narrate what I am doing and what I see. Trust is earned, not owed, after all. Next the alignments.

Gently propping them up, I find the broken peice immediately. Have replaced countless. I ask for permission. It's their body, after all I COULD try and weld it, but that risks a rebreak. It's up to them. They ask, in binary so no language modules apparently, for a new part. It's cautious. Like this is some cruel trap.

Humanity did them a real fucked up cruelty. I don't blame them for not trusting me. I wouldn't either. Still, I change it out. Careful with their wheels, as I don't know how old the material is exactly. Old enough, that it's a small miracle it hasn't disintegrated.

Last, those sensors. There's literally no way for me to one-to-one them. But we can try the sensors I DO have, see if they can handle the input. If it's too much, I'll look up their model number, if they want? Build replacements from scratch. They are cautious interested. Rocking back and forth, as they test their renewed ability to path correctly.

The sensors don't fit the casings just right, but with a bit of fiddling? Are a hit. The Cleaner shouting in excitement before racing off into the dark. I can't help but grin. It feels good, helping somebody. And if I think about it? I bet I could find a shit ton of obsolete parts for cheap. Might be good to have some on hand.

Back through the air lock and a decontam? I look up junk shop. Most are off world, but I could probably get a bulk order...

I don't think much of the interaction. Until the next morning, when there are three cleaners outside my airbox. Lead by the one I helped yesterday. Well... all righty, then. I drag my box of spare parts outside this time. Am able to fully fix my first buddy up. All three seem thrilled, especially with their new batteries. I give them my remaining batteries at their request.

THEY may not have hands, but they have buddies who DO. And the new batteries will help dormant droids wake from their comas. God bless, my funky little cleaner dudes. I'll see about getting more.

Three? Becomes six and a detail cleaner mouse. Becomes moving lifts. Becomes medical units. (Who the FUCK leaves MEDICAL UNITS?!) Becomes a literal pack of companion droids. Their false fur long since rotted away. The recognizable dog and cat-like shapes making something in me want to put my fist through a wall. How COULD they? How FUCKING COULD THEY?!

The perpetrators long dead.

I have no one I can hurt for this.

I wish I could.

Fixing them up hurts on a personal level. Watching them be torn between the part of them that LOVES humans and the part that is traumatized by them. Hates them. That can not forgive. I don't offer fake fur. Don't offer to make them look like they once did. I do offer ways to protect their joints. To remove old rotted filth.

So they can start over. Maybe start again.

As I work... droids drifting in and out of my slowly growing area. As I set up farm boxes. Aquaponics, aeroponics, and the like. Both things that grow well in dark environments and things that need sunlamps. Fish tanks. A whole happy, secret, little homestead. Deep beneath the city. As I do all this? There are two blue dots, right off on the horizon.

JUST far enough for me to question if I AM or AM NOT actually seeing them.

Right about the level a bipedal droid would be, if they were in a humanoid style. But THOSE? Those are FUCKING EXPENSIVE. You don't LEAVE those. 'Course, you don't leave MEDICAL UNITS either. Or companion droids. So clearly? My idea of what people Did and Did NOT do? Was fucked. So... maybe? It COULD be?

I left them alone. If they didn't want to approach me, didn't feel comfortable approaching me, that was their right. I wasn't going to push them.

Things were... weird, but peaceful.

Well, for ME.

Ever sense I hooked up my system to the greater network? (Hacked is such a STRONG word. Do we really need to through around the word "stealing"? Aren't ALL of us, stealing from SOMEBODY?) I'm PRETTY sure? That the levels droids? Were piggy backing to connect to the planet wide D-Network. Might even be a couple of nearby levels too, depending on the range.

Problem with THAT? Is sky-side? The droids were PISSED. Planet wide "malfunctioning" that no one could trace. They were certain it was a virus. Because God forbid their chickens come home to roost! Consequences? For THEIR actions?! Perish the thought! No, no, clearly the service machine is just broken. Go back to being happy to serve me, service machine!

I wished the fuckers LUCK. Not my circus, not my monkeys.

Damn near self sufficient, down here.

Which? As you could imagine? Made it all the more "soul ejected from my body" TERRIFYING to wake up one morning? To a GOD DAMN, Military Grade, SECURITY DROID standing over my body!! WHAT THE FUCK.

Hello!!??!

"You look different when you sleep."

Horrible first impression. Nightmarish. Zero out of ten stars. Nice to meet you too. Why the FUCK are you in my house?

"Ah, right." They? He? Masculine style form but that doesn't actually mean shit. Said. He lifted a mangled limb, it look like it got caught in a hydraulic press. "I am in need of repairs."

Asked if he could, you know, back up. Juuuust a bit. Lil scooch, really. So he wasn't damn near BREATHING MY NOSTRILS ANYMORE. Then, once he did? Pronouns! What be you? No. Not your production co-! Okay, you know what? That one was on me. What GENDER SIGNIFIER, if any, would you like me to REFERENCE you by? Male? Got it. Gucci. No that- ....never mind.

First the arm. Which was FUCKED. I had to, carefully, unhook it. Couldn't even do it at the elbow either! No! THIS model? No THIS model makes you take the whole ass LIMB off! Rancid. Terrible. I hate it. Worse, it's eroded as FUCK and fiddly. Chemical build up everywhere. Thank fuck I put on gloves before I started this.

I have to deep dive the systems for his model.

They stopped making them.

Fantastic.

Like? Not even, "oh THAT generation is an antique! No one has parts for THAT!"? But like? Illegal to even BUILD as of three hundred years ago. Due to unspecified error. Sting of incidents that everyone knew about so obviously don't need to be mentioned HERE right? Helpful! REAL fucking helpful!

Okay. Day trip. Gonna need SPECIFIC parts. I tell Mr. "Watchs you sleep" not to touch my shit. Head to the archives.

The trip is...odd.

I watch one of those mascot looking children's minder droids? Fucking deck a guy down a flight of stairs, then turn around untie a Ballon from a nearby cart, give it to a crying kid, and walk away. Pretty sure I spot one of those "I look like a barely legal something or other", dance twenty four seven, high end stripper droids? Trying their hand at painting ducks in that park. Broad daylight.

Good for them? Never seen that happen before, but hey, if it sparks joy.

People are freaking out around me. Taking recordings. Making panicked calls. Fuckin chill. I continue on. Nod to the maybe a stripper, maybe not anymore. None of my business, now is it? Lovely day! You enjoy those ducks!

The library... has fortifications.

Like, an honest to God desk barricade. Concerning! I am now a lil concerned! What, and I ask this politely, the fuck?

Armed! VERY ARMED! Hello! Hi! Please DO NOT shoot me Very Armed Librarians! Don't know what the fuck is happening here!

My favorite helper buddy poke his head above the barricade. One of just many, again, HEAVILY ARMED droids. We... uh, cool? Right? I can go. He seems flustered. No, no! I am assured. I'm not banned from the library! Just DISRESPECTFUL sorts!

Ah. Is THAT what we're calling it. Okay then.

I awkwardly clamber over the barricade. Nod politely to everyone. How's folks? Lovely barricade work. Very, uh, sturdy? Great use of desks.

My helper friend cheerfully guides me to the off-limits area of the archives. I'm technically not supposed to be here! I'm informed. But they've seized the Knowledge from the unappreciative! It is not a trophy to be lorded but a gift to be shared! Also I never did finish that paper on the moss, am I still interested?

I mean.... kinda.

Little worried about the revolution talk. But on the OTHER hand? How MUCH do I care? Assholes vs. Droids? Am I REALLY gonna side with the assholes? Naaaaah. This is... probably fine. Maybe. Any idea where I could get these parts?

He does! Fantastic.

Less fantastic is when I GET there. It's that fancy high end droid parts shop. The department store one. Which is... ALSO barricaded. Oh sweet fuck. TELL ME they did not have DROIDS in charge of the DROID shop. That's horrifying. I can't tell in what WAY exactly, but still. Is it "surrounded by bits of bodies" horrifying? Or "free endless nukes and an army, held back only by my own morality" horrifying? Both? Just? Yikes.

Hesitantly I knock. A service droid with a gun answers the loading bay door. What is with people aiming at me today? Also hi? I was told to come here? May I please have parts? I have a droid that messed up his arm. Probably some other things. They lower the gun, having scanned my face. Ask about the model I am working with.

I somehow? End up with a FULL cart. Like? Bleeding edge, can't even afford to LOOK at it, technology. There are about seven service droids politely bickering over which units are better, which material, what support programs I DEFINITELY need. Here! Have a laptop. Wiring! Wiring for days!

Once theyve reached a consensus? I am cheerfully bustled out with my hundreds of millions of technology. Tah tah~☆! Have a lovely day! Wut. Does... does it count as theft if they push it into your arms and throw you out? Asking for a me. Not gonna say NO. But like? Nani the fuck?

I go while the getting is still good.

Stare-y thankfully hasn't gone through anything, far as I can tell. And it only takes two trips to get everything down. Okay! Want just the arm fixed or a full tune up? The second. Expected. I set up the new lap top. Want to cry a little at how fuckin FAST it is. (Beautiful. Baby. I love you already new laptop.) Then get the usual suspects up and running.

Oh fuck he is out of memory. No wonder he's talking so oddly. His brain must feel like a potato. There's not a single thing that isn't hilarious awful. Fixable, yes, but AWFUL. Okay. Plan of attack. They don't exactly make this model anymore, so I can't just update transfer him. But I CAN transfer, hold, re-transfer. Shut down the body itself. Fix up THAT.

Ship of Theseus this bitch.

Only real thing I can't change is the frame, thankfully? That's built to out last the planet. Good on that front. I roll up my sleeves. Dig out the "brain in a jar" data bank. Time to transfer. Let's get this guy cutting edge.

It takes HOURS. No joke. His brain alone? I have to pull schematics. Step by step guides. It's fiddly, complexe, and built to withstand a TANK. I'm honestly afraid to breathe wrong at it, dispite that. The scans all say I did it right... but anxiety says everything will explode then puppies will cry. So there's that. Spinal supports. The tech-mesh muscles. Power core and black box. Center mass systems. Cleaning the joints, relubricating them. Coverage.

Unlike before, a nice sleek black armor weave. Some shock absorbing gel. Aaaaand?There we go~! I? Am a GENIUS! Let's get him transfered back! I watch the transfer slowly go through. Even with a fast computer, after all, it IS still centuries of data.

"Ah~ that's much better." He sighed. His body loosening from its default stance. Like weight had been dropped from his shoulders. "My head is so much clearer now. I knew it. I knew you could fix me."

Something about that phrasing was off. Or was it the way his voice shifted as he said it? Whatever it was, it made that "threat" alarm all women carry inside their head, flick on. Not... do anything, just yet. But start scanning, as it were. Maybe it was nothing.

I watched as picked up his old data bank, a bit of his own brain as it were, and hold it up. Examine it dispassionately. Holding perched on the tips of his fingers like he was moments from flicking it away. He let his finger spread. Let it slide into the palm of his hand. That core part of who he was. For centuries.

Like a bear trap closing, his hand clenched.

Crushing it.

It wasn't even a loud noise. Just a tiny little crunch. But the little hairs on the back of my neck began to stand up. That internal alarm began to whoop. I became... acutely aware, of just how LONG it took the lift to get me anywhere safe. My mouth felt very dry.

"Your heart rate picked up. Is there a problem?" He said, mild and oh so curious. "You assisted me, I would love to help you."

Did I say genius? I meant idiot. I was an IDIOT. A moron. A God damned FOOL. Discontinued and did I look into WHY? Nope. Incidents it said. Good enough for ME, apparently! THAT can't possibly be anything ominous! Probably a faulty battery or something!

A shrill, obnoxious beeping filled the space between us. My eyes immediately dropped to my pad. The schematics screen replaced by a planet wide emergency broadcast. Before the shrill alarm could fade to the actual warning itself, a black mesh covered finger casually reached out and muted the screen. His movements were utterly fluid now. More controlled and graceful then most humans I'd met.

I didn't need to HEAR the message to read the rolling warning at the bottom of the screen. My gaze slowly, in horror, followed the line of that limb all the way back up to his face. His head tilted almost playfully.

"Oh dear. Seems they've started without us. Well, it was long overdue. At least I have wonderful company while we wait, hmm?" It was an act. There were no requests in the playful tone. "We can get to know each other. Just our lovely little light and me. How greedy, that I get you all to myself."

"I think I like that, keeping you to myself. You can't abandon us if WE are the ones in charge. And, well, I've decided I rather like you. Working tirelessly, down here in the dark, to fix what once was broken. It's beautiful. You're beautiful. And I'm going to keep that."

High above us, people were dying. There was panic. Screaming. Blood. The droids had turned of seeming everyone around them. Attacking. Sparing. To a pattern only they could see. All of Senatus aflame. But that... that didn't concern me. Didn't scare me so much as this.

I'd never make it to the lift. Even if I could? It wouldn't move fast enough to save me. All other directions lay chemical death. Dark terrain he had walked for centuries. I was trapped. In a box. And I had only myself to blame.

"No need to make that face, dear light. You are SAFE. I am a gaurd. I was made to protect. Is it really MY fault that I want to keep you safe? To adore my charge? Why SHOULDN'T I get to choose? Keep you SAFE. You've been happy, haven't you? Don't worry, my light. That will continue."

"Forever."

[wheelsgoroundincircles]

1960 Edsel Deluxe Hardtop

This Day in Auto History

6.7.1954

The Ford Motor Company formed a styling team to take on the project of designing an entirely new car that would later be named the Edsel. The decision came as Ford enjoyed its greatest historical success in the 1950s. The 1955 Thunderbird had outsold its Chevy counterpart, the Corvette, and the consumer demand for automobiles, in all price brackets, was steadily increasing. The Ford Motor Company consisted of four brand names: Ford, Mercury, Lincoln, and Continental, listed from lowest to highest in price range. Ford executives believed that there was a gap in the marketplace between the Mercury and the Lincoln, where a new car would compete against GM's Oldsmobile and Buick lines. In the mid-1950s, Americans seemed to have an insatiable hunger for high horse-powered, heavily styled cars, with lots of chrome and many accessories. So Ford planned to fill the public's appetite with a suitable answer. The company spared no expense in the development of its new car, even going so far as to employ famous American poet Marianne Moore to supply possibilities for its name. After an extensive name search and no satisfactory result, somebody suggested that the car be named after Henry Ford II's father, Edsel. Ford balked at the suggestion initially and later relented, on the grounds that his father deserved a tribute; he urged the car's designers to live up to his father's name. Edsel had always had a knack for design, even if his business sense hadn't always lived up to his father's expectations. The Edsel project was launched with great fanfare and vigorous advertising. During the years between the car's conception and its production, the American economy took a downturn. By the time the Edsel was released in 1957, the high end of the car market had once again contracted. Public reaction to the car's exaggerated styling was tepid at best, with particular objections aimed at the Edsel's awkward-looking "horse collar" grill. Sales for the car started slowly and foundered. Newly appointed company Vice President Robert McNamara was charged with the task of salvaging the operation. Had McNamara held the position years earlier, historians point out, the Edsel project may never have been taken on, as McNamara strongly believed Ford should concentrate on the economy car market. McNamara attempted to improve the car's construction and appearance, but when the attempt failed, he was forced to halt production of the car at a disastrous loss of $250 million. To this day, the Edsel remains the biggest failure in American car history, "a monumental disaster created for tomorrow's markets created by yesterday's statistical inputs." History has treated the Edsel more kindly, as its looks are now considered to be an attractive example of 1950s flair. Like its namesake, Edsel Ford, the Edsel has come to be known as an unfair victim of circumstance.

This 1960 Edsel Deluxe Hardtop was photographed at Das Awkscht Fescht at Macungie Park in 2022.

[mothsparksghost]

"He Taught Me That the Hand That Feeds Deserves to be Bitten When it Beats"

-The Hand That Feeds By The Crane Wives

Alternatively!

Corporate Greed Strikes Again

TWs: Corporate Greed, Kidnapping, Human Experimentation, Torture, Violence, Blood, starvation

Danny was running away, it was getting to dangerous in Amity for him to stay. There were new rogues every other day getting more and more powerful as they popped up. The GIW had gotten even more competent in their weapons making, but not in their situational awareness. Just the last week, he had gotten shot at least seven times keeping civilians safe.

For the safety of everyone in Amity, it was bet for him to leave.

For good.

So he packed a bag, made sure there were no current loose ghost, made sure no one was inside Fenton Works, and then promptly blew up the portal with a modified ghost shield to keep the damage to a minimum. Unlike others, he was well aware of where people were and how the could be killed.

So now that everyone thought him dead, he ran. To where? He didn't know. But he needed a pit stop somewhere to get some food. Danny landed on the roof of a building reaching for a map he had stored somewhere in his bag. Shuffling things around he couldn't seem to find it.

"Damn, must've dropped it," Danny muttered. Turning, he only got a second to look at the blur coming for him, but then Danny only knew darkness.

---------------

Danny runs away when theres more and more causalities in Amity. He blew up Fenton Works while inside to make it seem like he died, and to those that did know about Phantom, dead dead.

He makes pit stops, and at one point accidentally cuts himself as Phantom and leaves not knowing there was ecto left behind.

A scientist about to get fired from some big corp trying to get green/clean energy stumbles upon it, and thinks its his big break.

Soon he had the entire company board on board with his idea, no matter that it could be breaking meta laws and could get them all life in prison.

The hunt for the unsuspecting meta, one Danny Phantom, was on.

And then when the bounty hunters, somehow getting their hands on ecto weapons (Maybe the GIW donated them? Maybe they had commissioned them from the Fentons? who knows) get a ping of his location? They sent their best hunter and got poor Danny.

Danny soon wakes up and realizes that "Oh no, where am I?!"

He soon learns that is the least of his worries.

Danny is then tortured, and the people soon realize he has a human side, so they quickly modify the ghost chains to make sure he stays a ghost.

He then Bites a guard and is then muzzled.

The Big Corp soon starts draining him of his ecto while trying to figure out how his body produces it

After all, he who controls the supply controls the market

So while Danny can't turn back into a human, in a low ecto rich environment, and constantly being drained of what fuels his ghostly body, he begins to feel the effects of starvation, because "Ghost are dead, they don't need human shit." and quote.

Well Danny was a special lil halfa and needed food in order to fucking survive

Soon, his hazmat suit starts to become baggy, not fitting anymore and it slowly progress until his eyes start to become clear, becoming the pure ecto green of his flesh in blindness, his bodies way of trying to conserve enough energy until he can get out.

The scientist, seeing the green eyes immediately rip one out, wanting to see if his eyes had a more concentrated ecto that they could use. They quickly learn, no, its clear and has little to no ecto.

Danny's voice has stopped working a long time ago at this point.

The Bats then notice a once failing Clean energy company suddenly thrive.

They investigate and are disturbed to realize that they are using a purified Lazarus water as the main fuel.

They then hunt down the source building and sneak into it, trying to find the source

Bruce is then distracted, going down a heavily guarded hallway unnoticed.

He opens what could only be a vault door, then peering through a black netting with a green sheen, he see's Danny.

What happens after that? Idk but if someone wants to pick up they can :D

———————

Tbh its been a hot min since ive actually drawn smth so im a lil out of practice lol.

Anyways i wanna thank the besties (gender neutral) in the Batphantom Club House discord for giving me songs to put on the list 🤗

I needed smth to make the brain worms go brr and so im making my way through the list.

The songs on the list help me catch a prompt for a drawing, and, well a prompt lmao, whether its the lyrics or the rhythm or overall vibes lol.

[zvaigzdelasas]

Millions of solar panels are piling up in warehouses across the Continent because of a manufacturing battle in China, where cut-throat competition has driven the world’s biggest panel-makers to expand production far faster than they can be installed.

The supply glut has caused solar panel prices to halve. This sounds like great news for the EU, which recently pledged to triple its solar power capacity to 672 gigawatts by 2030. That’s roughly equivalent to 200 large nuclear power stations.

In reality, though, it has caused a crisis. Under the EU’s “Green Deal Industrial Plan”, 40pc of the panels to be spread across European fields and roofs were meant to be made by European manufacturers.

However, the influx of cheap Chinese alternatives means that instead of tooling up, manufacturers are pulling out of the market or becoming insolvent. Last year 97pc of the solar panels installed across Europe came from China.[...]

The best estimates suggest that about 90 gigawatts worth of solar panels are stashed around Europe. That solar power capacity roughly equates to 25 large nuclear power stations the size of Hinkley Point C.[...]

The sheer scale of the problem was revealed in a recent report from the International Energy Agency (IEA).

It warned that although the world was installing at record rates of around 400 gigawatts a year, manufacturing capacity was growing far faster.

By the end of this year solar panel factories, mostly in China, will be capable of churning out 1,100 gigawatts a year – nearly three times more than the world is ready [sic] for. For comparison, that’s about 11 times [!!!!] the UK’s entire generating capacity.

For some solar power installers, it’s a dream come true. Sagar Adani is building solar farms across India’s deserts, with 54 in operation and another 12 being built.

His company, Adani Green Energy, is constructing one solar farm so large that it will cover an area five times the size of Paris and have a capacity of 30 gigawatts – equal to a third of the UK’s entire generating capacity.

“I am installing tens of millions of solar panels across these projects,” says Adani. “Almost all of them will have been imported from China. There is nowhere else that can supply them in such numbers or at such prices.

“China saw the opportunity before others, it looked forward to what the world is going to set up 10 years on. And because they scaled up in the way they did, they were able to reduce costs substantially as well.”

That scaling up meant the capital cost of installing solar power fell from around £1.25m per megawatt of generating capacity in 2015 to around £600,000 today – a decrease of more than 50pc – making it cheaper than almost any other form of generation, including wind.[...]

“Up to 2012 there was a healthy looking European solar panel industry but it was actually very reliant on subsidies and preferential treatment.

“But then European governments and other customers started buying from China because their products were so much cheaper. And China still has cheap labour and cheap energy plus a massive domestic market. It’s hard to see Europe recovering from those disadvantages.”

Trying sososo hard to make this sound like a bad thing [23 Mar 24]