#government job circular

[jobresulttoday]

চাকরির খবর: আপনারা যারা চাকরির প্রস্তুতি নিচ্ছেন। তারা হয়তবা ভালো করে জানবেন যে প্রতি শুক্রবারে ”সাপ্তাহিক চাকরির খবর পত্রিকা” প্রকাশিত হয়। Read More…

[mirnaheadlines]

Government Policies for a Green Economy: Incentives and Regulations

Green Economy A successful transition to a green economy requires a combination of public and private sector efforts, Green Economy with governments playing a crucial role in setting the framework for this transformation. Policies often target sectors such as energy, transportation, agriculture, waste management, and construction, which are significant contributors to environmental impacts. In this context, incentives and regulations serve as two sides of the policy coin, ensuring both the encouragement of sustainable practices and the enforcement of environmental protection.

One of the main goals of government policies for a green economy is to shift economic activity toward more sustainable practices. This involves reducing greenhouse gas emissions, promoting renewable energy, and ensuring that economic growth is decoupled from environmental degradation. To achieve these goals, governments employ a wide range of tools, including tax breaks, subsidies, grants, carbon pricing mechanisms, and strict environmental regulations.

A green economy also emphasizes social inclusiveness, Green Economy ensuring that the transition to sustainability benefits all members of society, particularly vulnerable groups who are most affected by environmental degradation. Green Economy Government policies often include provisions for job creation in green industries, education and training for new skills, and social protection measures to ensure that no one is left behind in the transition.

This section will delve into six key areas of government policies for a green economy: renewable energy incentives, carbon pricing mechanisms, green transportation policies, sustainable agriculture support, waste management and recycling regulations, and financial incentives for green innovation.

Renewable Energy Incentives Green Economy

One of the cornerstones of any green economy policy framework is the promotion of renewable energy sources. Governments have introduced a range of incentives to encourage the production and consumption of renewable energy, such as wind, solar, and hydropower. These incentives are critical for reducing reliance on fossil fuels, which are the primary source of greenhouse gas emissions.

Renewable energy incentives often take the form of subsidies and tax breaks. For instance, many governments offer production tax credits (PTCs) and investment tax credits (ITCs) to companies that generate renewable energy or invest in renewable energy infrastructure. These financial incentives lower the cost of renewable energy projects, making them more competitive with traditional fossil fuel-based energy sources.

Feed-in tariffs (FITs) are another common incentive mechanism. Green Economy Under a FIT program, renewable energy producers are guaranteed a fixed price for the electricity they generate, often over a long-term contract. This provides a stable revenue stream and reduces the financial risk associated with renewable energy investments. Net metering programs, which allow individuals and businesses to sell excess renewable energy back to the grid, are another way governments encourage the adoption of renewable technologies.

Governments also support renewable energy through research and development (R&D) funding. Green Economy By investing in the development of new technologies, governments can help bring down the cost of renewable energy and make it more accessible. Many governments also provide grants and low-interest loans for renewable energy projects, particularly for smaller-scale projects such as rooftop solar installations.

In addition to financial incentives, governments often mandate the use of renewable energy through renewable portfolio standards (RPS). An RPS requires utilities to obtain a certain percentage of their electricity from renewable sources, creating a guaranteed market for renewable energy. This not only supports the growth of the renewable energy industry but also helps reduce the overall carbon footprint of the energy sector.

Green Economy The combination of financial incentives and regulatory mandates has been instrumental in driving the rapid growth of renewable energy in many parts of the world. Countries such as Germany, Denmark, and China have become global leaders in renewable energy production, thanks in large part to strong government policies that promote green energy development.

Carbon Pricing Mechanisms

Carbon pricing is a critical tool in the fight against climate change and a key component of government policies for a green economy. By putting a price on carbon emissions, governments create an economic incentive for businesses and individuals to reduce their carbon footprint. There are two main types of carbon pricing mechanisms: carbon taxes and cap-and-trade systems.

A carbon tax directly sets a price on carbon by levying a tax on the carbon content of fossil fuels. This encourages businesses and consumers to reduce their use of carbon-intensive energy sources and shift toward cleaner alternatives. The revenue generated from carbon taxes is often used to fund green initiatives, such as renewable energy projects or energy efficiency programs, or to provide rebates to low-income households to offset higher energy costs.

Cap-and-trade systems, also known as emissions trading schemes (ETS), work by setting a limit (or cap) on the total amount of greenhouse gas emissions that can be emitted by covered entities, such as power plants or industrial facilities. Companies are issued emission allowances, which they can trade with one another. Companies that can reduce their emissions at a lower cost can sell their excess allowances to companies that face higher costs for reducing emissions. This creates a market for carbon allowances and incentivizes businesses to invest in cleaner technologies.

Both carbon taxes and cap-and-trade systems are designed to internalize the environmental cost of carbon emissions, making it more expensive to pollute and more profitable to invest in sustainable practices. These mechanisms can drive innovation, as businesses seek out new technologies and processes to reduce their carbon liabilities.

Several countries and regions have implemented carbon pricing policies with varying degrees of success. The European Union’s Emissions Trading System (EU ETS) is one of the largest and most established cap-and-trade programs in the world. Canada has implemented a nationwide carbon tax, with revenue returned to households through rebates. In the United States, some states, such as California, have implemented their own cap-and-trade programs in the absence of a national carbon pricing policy.

However, carbon pricing mechanisms face challenges, including political opposition and concerns about economic competitiveness. In some cases, businesses argue that carbon pricing increases costs and puts them at a disadvantage compared to competitors in countries without similar policies. To address these concerns, governments often include provisions to protect industries that are vulnerable to international competition, such as offering rebates or exemptions for certain sectors.

Green Transportation Policies

Transportation is a major source of greenhouse gas emissions, particularly in urban areas. To promote a green economy, governments are implementing a range of policies aimed at reducing emissions from the transportation sector. These policies focus on promoting the use of public transportation, encouraging the adoption of electric vehicles (EVs), and improving fuel efficiency standards.

One of the most effective ways to reduce transportation emissions is to encourage the use of public transportation. Governments invest in expanding and improving public transit systems, such as buses, trains, and subways, to make them more accessible and attractive to commuters. By providing reliable and affordable public transportation options, governments can reduce the number of cars on the road and lower overall emissions.

In addition to improving public transportation, governments are offering incentives for the purchase of electric vehicles (EVs). These incentives often take the form of tax credits or rebates for EV buyers, which help offset the higher upfront cost of electric vehicles compared to traditional gasoline-powered cars. Some governments also offer additional perks for EV owners, such as access to carpool lanes or free parking in city centers.

Governments are also investing in the infrastructure needed to support electric vehicles, such as building charging stations. A lack of charging infrastructure is often cited as a barrier to EV adoption, so governments play a critical role in addressing this challenge. By providing grants or partnering with private companies, governments can help build a network of charging stations that makes EVs a more convenient option for drivers.

Another important component of green transportation policies is improving fuel efficiency standards for cars and trucks. Governments set regulations that require automakers to produce vehicles that meet certain fuel efficiency targets, which helps reduce the amount of fuel consumed and the emissions produced by the transportation sector. Some governments also implement vehicle emissions standards, which limit the amount of pollutants that cars and trucks can emit.

In addition to these policies, governments are encouraging the use of alternative modes of transportation, such as biking and walking. Investments in bike lanes, pedestrian infrastructure, and bike-sharing programs make it easier for people to choose low-emission forms of transportation. These efforts not only reduce emissions but also improve public health by promoting physical activity.

Sustainable Agriculture Support

Agriculture is both a contributor to and a victim of environmental degradation. It is responsible for significant greenhouse gas emissions, deforestation, water use, and pollution from fertilizers and pesticides. At the same time, agriculture is highly vulnerable to the impacts of climate change, including more frequent droughts, floods, and changing weather patterns. As a result, governments are increasingly focusing on promoting sustainable agricultural practices as part of their green economy policies.

One of the key ways governments support sustainable agriculture is through financial incentives for farmers who adopt environmentally friendly practices. These incentives can take the form of subsidies, grants, or low-interest loans for practices such as organic farming, agroforestry, and conservation tillage. By providing financial support, governments encourage farmers to invest in sustainable practices that might otherwise be cost-prohibitive.

Governments also provide technical assistance and education to help farmers transition to more sustainable practices. This can include training programs on topics such as water conservation, soil health, and pest management, as well as access to research and technology that supports sustainable farming. Extension services, which provide hands-on assistance to farmers, are another important tool for promoting sustainable agriculture.

In addition to financial and technical support, governments implement regulations to reduce the environmental impact of agriculture. These regulations can include restrictions on the use of certain pesticides and fertilizers, requirements for buffer zones to protect water sources from agricultural runoff, and mandates for the reduction of greenhouse gas emissions from livestock and manure management.

Governments are also working to promote more sustainable food systems by encouraging the consumption of locally produced and organic foods. Public procurement policies, which require government institutions such as schools and hospitals to purchase a certain percentage of their food from sustainable sources, are one way governments support the development of local, sustainable food systems.

Another important aspect of sustainable agriculture policies is protecting biodiversity and promoting ecosystem services. Governments often provide incentives for farmers to preserve natural habitats on their land, such as wetlands, forests, and grasslands, which provide important ecosystem services such as carbon sequestration, water filtration, and pollination. By promoting biodiversity and ecosystem health, governments help ensure that agricultural systems are more resilient to environmental changes.

Waste Management and Recycling Regulations

Effective waste management is a critical component of a green economy. Governments play a key role in regulating waste disposal, promoting recycling, and encouraging the reduction of waste generation. These efforts are aimed at reducing the environmental impact of waste, including greenhouse gas emissions from landfills, pollution from improper disposal, and the depletion of natural resources through excessive consumption.

One of the main ways governments regulate waste is by setting standards for waste disposal. This includes regulating landfills, incinerators, and hazardous waste facilities to ensure that they operate in an environmentally responsible manner. Governments also implement bans or restrictions on certain types of waste, such as single-use plastics, to reduce the amount of waste that ends up in landfills or the environment.

In addition to regulating waste disposal, governments are increasingly focusing on promoting recycling and waste reduction. Many governments have implemented extended producer responsibility (EPR) programs, which require manufacturers to take responsibility for the disposal of the products they produce. This can include requirements for companies to fund recycling programs or take back products at the end of their life cycle.

Governments also implement policies to encourage households and businesses to recycle more. This can include providing curbside recycling services, setting recycling targets, and offering incentives for recycling, such as deposit return schemes for beverage containers. Public awareness campaigns and education programs are also important tools for promoting recycling and waste reduction.

In some cases, governments use economic instruments to promote waste reduction, such as charging fees for waste disposal or providing financial incentives for businesses that reduce waste. Pay-as-you-throw programs, which charge households based on the amount of waste they generate, are one example of how governments use pricing mechanisms to encourage waste reduction.

Another important component of waste management policies is promoting the circular economy, which focuses on keeping materials in use for as long as possible through recycling, reusing, and remanufacturing. Governments support the circular economy by providing incentives for businesses that adopt circular practices, such as designing products for durability and recyclability, and by setting targets for reducing waste and increasing recycling rates.

Source :

Government Policies for a Green Economy: Incentives and Regulations

[lets-steal-an-archive]

By Bernie Sanders | July 13, 2024

I will do all that I can to see that President Biden is re-elected. Why? Despite my disagreements with him on particular issues, he has been the most effective president in the modern history of our country and is the strongest candidate to defeat Donald Trump — a demagogue and pathological liar. It’s time to learn a lesson from the progressive and centrist forces in France who, despite profound political differences, came together this week to soundly defeat right-wing extremism.

I strongly disagree with Mr. Biden on the question of U.S. support for Israel’s horrific war against the Palestinian people. The United States should not provide Benjamin Netanyahu’s right-wing extremist government with another nickel as it continues to create one of the worst humanitarian disasters in modern history.

I strongly disagree with the president’s belief that the Affordable Care Act, as useful as it has been, will ever address America’s health care crisis. Our health care system is broken, dysfunctional and wildly expensive and needs to be replaced with a “Medicare for all” single-payer system. Health care is a human right.

And those are not my only disagreements with Mr. Biden.

But for over two weeks now, the corporate media has obsessively focused on the June presidential debate and the cognitive capabilities of a man who has, perhaps, the most difficult and stressful job in the world. The media has frantically searched for every living human being who no longer supports the president or any neurologist who wants to appear on TV. Unfortunately, too many Democrats have joined that circular firing squad.

Yes. I know: Mr. Biden is old, is prone to gaffes, walks stiffly and had a disastrous debate with Mr. Trump. But this I also know: A presidential election is not an entertainment contest. It does not begin or end with a 90-minute debate.

Enough! Mr. Biden may not be the ideal candidate, but he will be the candidate and should be the candidate. And with an effective campaign taht speaks to the needs of working families, he will not only defeat Mr. Trump but beat him badly. It’s time for Democrats to stop the bickering and nit-picking.

I understand that some Democrats get nervous about having to explain the president’s gaffes and misspeaking names. But unlike the Republicans, they do not have to explain away a candidate who now has 34 felony convictions and faces charges that could lead to dozens of additional convictions, who has been hit with a $5 million judgment after he was found liable in a sexual abuse case, who has been involved in more than 4,000 lawsuits, who has repeatedly gone bankrupt and who has told thousands of documented lies and falsehoods.

Supporters of Mr. Biden can speak proudly about a good and decent Democratic president with a record of real accomplishment. The Biden administration, as a result of the American Rescue Plan, helped rebuild the economy during the pandemic far faster than economists thought possible. At a time when people were terrified about the future, the president and those of us who supported him in Congress put Americans back to work, provided cash benefits to desperate parents and protected small businesses, hospitals, schools and child care centers.

After decades of talk about our crumbling roads, bridges and water systems, we put more money into rebuilding America’s infrastructure than ever before — which is projected to create millions of well-paying jobs. And we did not stop there. We made the largest-ever investment in climate action to save the planet. We canceled student debt for nearly five million financially strapped Americans. We cut prices for insulin and asthma inhalers, capped out-of-pocket costs for prescription drugs and got free vaccines to the American people. We battled to defend women’s rights in the face of moves by Trump-appointed jurists to roll back reproductive freedom and deny women the right to control their own bodies.

So, yes, Mr. Biden has a record to run on. A strong record. But he and his supporters should never suggest that what’s been accomplished is sufficient. To win the election, the president must do more than just defend his excellent record. He needs to propose and fight for a bold agenda that speaks to the needs of the vast majority of our people — the working families of this country, the people who have been left behind for far too long.

At a time when the billionaires have never had it so good and when the United States is experiencing virtually unprecedented income and wealth inequality, over 60 percent of Americans live paycheck to paycheck, real weekly wages for the average worker have not risen in over 50 years, 25 percent of seniors live each year on $15,000 or less, we have a higher rate of childhood poverty than almost any other major country, and housing is becoming more and more unaffordable — among other crises.

This is the wealthiest country in the history of the world. We can do better. We must do better. Joe Biden knows that. Donald Trump does not. Joe Biden wants to tax the rich so that we can fund the needs of working families, the elderly, the children, the sick and the poor. Donald Trump wants to cut taxes for the billionaire class. Joe Biden wants to expand Social Security benefits. Donald Trump and his friends want to weaken Social Security. Joe Biden wants to make it easier for workers to form unions and collectively bargain for better wages and benefits. Donald Trump wants to let multinational corporations get away with exploiting workers and ripping off consumers. Joe Biden respects democracy. Donald Trump attacks it.

This election offers a stark choice on issue after issue. If Mr. Biden and his supporters focus on these issues — and refuse to be divided and distracted — the president will rally working families to his side in the industrial Midwest swing states and elsewhere and win the November election. And let me say this as emphatically as I can: For the sake of our kids and future generations, he must win.

Bernie Sanders is the senior senator from Vermont.

[perfectjobsbd-blog]

Ansar VDP Job Circular 2022

[16novvs]

in this together ˖ᡣ𐭩 ⊹

arcane season 2 spoilers!

councilor!sevika had a particularly rough day and her assistant (you!fem) not only stands up for her, comforts her, but also encourages sevika that everything is going to be alright. angst with comfort!!!! AND FLUFF???i honestly made this to cope with how the arcane ending fucked sevika over.. my beautiful wife T_T hope you enjoy!!

1.5k words (currently editing)

You had been there during Silco’s reign, working alongside Sevika, managing the details and data that went unnoticed by others. After the fighting ended, you followed Sevika into a new chapter as her assistant, trading the chaos of war and survival for the stream of governance.

The council chamber was as cold and unwelcoming as ever, the polished surface of the circular table reflecting the sharp, impassive faces of Piltover’s councilors. Sevika sat stiffly, her broad frame filling the chair that felt more like an insult than a seat of respect.

You sat at Sevika’s side, trying to take notes and keep track of the conversation as best you could, though your attention was split between the meeting and Sevika herself. You could see she was trying to shrink into herself. To others, she may have looked stoic, but this was your Sevika. You could tell she wasn’t comfortable at all. To make matters worse, Sevika had left her mechanical arm at home. Weapons weren’t allowed in the council chamber bullshit, and that left her feeling annoyingly vulnerable. Next meeting, you will encourage her to wear it regardless of what they think.

Today’s meeting was completely and utterly nonsensical. The past few weeks, the council members had been running in circles, with the main focus being on making Piltover and Zaun into a true partnership between the two cities. Sevika didn’t care about that, and neither did you. What you wanted were resources: systems in place to get kids a proper education, to get the homeless off the streets, to provide proper jobs and healthy diets. You both wanted Zaun to become a place one could live in, not fight to survive.

Sevika’s patience had worn thin hours ago, but she stayed, gritting her teeth as Piltover’s officials changed the topic every time her concerns for Zaun came up. They cloaked their disregard for her in polished semantics and false promises, but Sevika saw right through them.

You, on the other hand, were practically fuming. You’d stopped writing a while ago and didn’t care to hide the contempt on your face anymore. You’d think the world nearly ending would be enough to make people change their ways, but I guess not. Before you could continue your inner monologue, your thoughts were rudely interrupted by some pompous ass sitting next to Sevika.

“You know, Sevika,” he said, leaning in close and taking advantage of the bustle in the council room, “I admire your… confidence to sit here today. It’s rare to see someone rise so far above their means. It’s almost inspirational, really.”

Sevika didn’t respond, her eyes narrowing at she processed the veiled jab. You, however, understood it right away and couldn’t hold back. Your hand slammed the table between the two of them, a sharp noise ringing through the room.

“With all due respect,” you leaned in, your voice calm but sharp, “if Councilor Sevika hadn’t come to rescue this craven city, half of you would either be slaughtered or under the Herald’s control. If you truly admire her, maybe you should show it by addressing the issues at hand instead of throwing thinly veiled insults.”

The Piltover councilor blinked, clearly not expecting a response from you, let alone one with such bite. Across the table, a few of the other assistants exchanged glances, some looking shocked, others impressed. Sevika’s head turned slightly toward you, her eyes meeting yours for a brief moment. You could see the tension in her shoulders ease just a little, the corner of her mouth twitching in what could almost be a smile.

“Well,” Shoola, another councilwoman, said, clearing her throat, “Perhaps we should move on.”

The rest of the meeting passed in a blur of tense exchanges and unresolved issues, but Sevika held her head high, bolstered, you hoped, by your words. When the meeting finally adjourned, Sevika rose without a word, nodding to Shoola. You followed her out, the quiet tension between you growing heavier on the way home.

The apartment was dimly lit, the faint glow of sunlight filtering through the blinds. The heavy clunk of Sevika’s boots echoed against the floor as she stepped inside, her mechanical arm sitting limply on the coffee table. She didn’t say a word as she sank onto the couch, her head falling into her hand. You set your bag down by the door and crossed the room, kneeling in front of her. The council meeting had drained her; you could see it in the way her broad shoulders slumped and the faint tremble in her arm.

“Sevika,” you said softly, resting a hand on her knee. “Look at me.”

When she did, the sight broke your heart. She looked tired, worn down, like she was carrying the weight of Zaun on her shoulders—and she was. Tears threatened to spill from her eyes. Sevika refused to cry even when she found out Jinx was gone, and now the floodgates had opened. Your poor girl.

“Oh, come here, baby.” You planted yourself beside her, allowing her to sink into your embrace. And for the first time in a long time, Sevika finally let go. She cried for Jinx, for Isha, for Silco, and for Zaun. She cried because her strength, the one thing she’d use to make change, was useless here. She cried for the Zaunites who’d lost their lives fighting alongside her, and she cried because she was afraid it would have all been in vain.

You leaned back, cradling her head against your chest as she sobbed. With gentle hands, you traced soothing circles on her back, your soft reassurances and sweet murmurs helping to steady her breathing. The weight of her pain slowly eased as you held her. You stayed like that for a while, the sound of her muffled sniffling and quiet whimpers eventually fading into the stillness. When she was ready, Sevika sat up, brushing away the lingering traces of tears on her cheeks. You could see in her eyes that she felt lighter.

“Back in the council chamber,” she said finally, her voice low and gruff. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Of course I did,” you replied immediately, meeting her gaze. “They don’t get to talk to you like that. Not while I’m here.”

For a moment, she just stared at you, softness in her eyes. Then, to your surprise, she let out a short, dry laugh. “You’ve got guts,” she said, shaking her head. “That goddamn room is so stuffy.

You laughed. “It is, isn’t it?” you said trying to draw her out of the dark cloud that seemed to hang over her.

She didn’t respond right away, but she did slip her hand into yours, intertwining your fingers and caressing the back of your hand with her thumb.

You broke the silence gently, your voice steady and warm. “Sevika, you’re doing everything you can. I know it doesn’t always feel like it’s enough, but it is. Zaun has someone in their corner who truly cares—someone who fights for them every single day. That’s more than most people in that council can say.”

Sevika’s gaze dropped to your intertwined hands, her thumb brushing soft, absent patterns across your skin. “I don’t know what I’m doing,” she admitted in a whisper. “Silco, Vander—they always had a plan. Me? I’m just... figuring it out as I go.”

“And that’s okay, this is all new to you— to us,” you said firmly. “Silco and Vander weren’t perfect, Sev. They made mistakes—lots of them. You’re allowed to stumble or feel lost. What matters is that you care, and you’re still here, fighting. That’s exactly what Zaun needs.”

She let out a bitter laugh, her lips twisting into a faint, humorless smile. “What’s the point of trying when they won’t listen? When they look at me like I don’t even belong there?”

“Then you make them listen,” you said, squeezing her hand. “You’ve fought for Zaun every step of the way, and you haven’t stopped. They might not see it, Sev, but I do. I see everything you’re putting into this, even when it feels like you’ve got nothing left to give.”

Her hand shifted slightly, her fingers brushing against yours as she slowly lifted her head. When her eyes met yours, the vulnerability there made your chest tighten. Still, you could see the faint spark of resolve returning.

“You always know how to say the right thing, don’t you, doll?” she murmured, a small smile tugging at her lips.

“Just telling the truth,” you replied, your own smile soft but steady.

“Come here.”

This time, you let her pull you into her arms, the familiar weight of you on top of her chest allowing her to relax. Her strong arm wrapped around your waist, the warmth blossoming against your waist and back.

“Thank you,” she said softly, nuzzling into your neck.

“Always,” you whispered, pressing a lingering kiss to her jaw. “We’re in this together, I promise.”

For the first time in a while, she let herself believe things would be alright. Wrapped in your warmth, the weight of the world seemed to ease, just a little, as she sank into you and allowed herself to breathe.

so this was supposed to be straight up fluff but i couldn’t help myself w/ the angst!! i apologize if this felt rushed + i barely proof. i hope you enjoyed reading nonetheless and i’d love to read your comments on this if you have any <3

[mouseymousey]

The scratches on D-16 and Orion when they meet for the first time were bothering me a lot.

Ignore the background creepy Prowl......

Look at Orion's hand. It's WAY more scratched up than D-16's. Even if it's just the light, Orion's hand is scratched over and over, and where their arms are about the same color, Orion's arm is far dirtier and scratched than D-16's.

Then look at D-16's front. It's way worse than Orion's. Most of the scratches are along the shape of the armor. D-16's are more circular on his right shoulder (left in the picture), and he has a huge mark on the front of his helmet.

Orion is known for his parkour skills, so Imma just say that the variety of scratches all in the same places and that controlled down the shape of his form are from practicing parkour moves over and over. Maybe the hand scratches could pass for picking locks instead, but it seems to still be a controlled repeated movement. On the other hand, D-16 looks like he was in a fight. At very least, his helmet looks like he got punched in the face, and his side looks like someone tried to grab him from behind and he tried to pull away. Plus, we already know that bots' eyes can change from life events, and his eyes have already changed to yellow by their meeting.

Whatever inciting incident that made D-16 into Megatron had already happened by the time he met Orion Pax. Optimus Prime was already too late. :(

Edit:

blackberry-lulu in the comments reminded me this might be relevant:

I also theorize that some of the miners are citizens that broke the law in some way.

They got their memories taken away and made into miners, so they would no longer be a problem for the government. D-16 could have been a warrior, and Orion could have been an archivist. It would explain why they have so many scratches on their first day (maybe even first day being "alive" as cogless bots). They would have both found out about the government's corruption eventually if they were their usual jobs, even if OP was in law enforcement instead.

We don't really see what prison looks like, but Orion seems to get off with nearly no punishment after breaking in places or running from police. It's not like he can't be identified; one of the people on the train even says his name out loud. He's a fairly public figure. It's because he never found anything useful.

Even then, instead of imprisoning them, Darkwing just throws them to a lower floor (OP and 16) or fires them (Alita). They have no other way to punish people, probably because the way they do so is to take away peoples' memories and cogs. They're already cogless, so there's not really anything he can do.

[uhohdad]

EXPERIMENTAL

it’s been awhile since i’ve written please mind the rust

Summary: Konig helps Researcher!Reader with a new technology they’ve been developing.

AO3 Link: X

PART TWO: X

Word Count: 5,4k

Warnings: Flirting, Sexual Content, NSFW, Reader x Konig, talk of standard war stuff, Reader is a bit of a pervert. Non-con Voyeurism. Reader has anxious thoughts/low-self esteem-ish? No use of y/n, reader’s gender/sex is incomprehensible, cause I do for the girls the gays and the theys.

NSFW UNDER CUT

You never thought you’d end up working for the government, but the opportunity was too good. Where else would you find a grant to experiment if not for the generous funding of the military industrial complex? You should have known. Research is research, you told yourself, and the pay is too good to pass up on.

Most of your time was spent in the lab. For the most part, you had worked alone, spending up to 14 hours a day working on your project. It had been months, but you’re sure your developments will forever change warfare.

How many deaths will your creations be responsible for? How much blood on your hands?

No. It’s just a job.

You let out a deep sigh. Usually you have background noise - music, a show, a podcast - something to help ward off the obsessive thoughts. But today you had visitors coming.

You had requested a test subject for a beta version of your project. A soldier to help work out the bugs before the final version gets sent on the battlefield.

Battlefield.

Don’t think about it. Don’t think about-

A knock interrupted your internal conflict. You looked up, your eyes meeting the visitor through the circular glass pane of the swinging door. Just his eyes, as the visitor wore a black mask that draped from underneath a helmet, flowing over his shoulders and down his chest. You couldn’t help the concerned look that crossed your face as you hesitantly waved him in.

The door creaked as it opened and the man stepped in. You shoulders eased a bit when you noticed the uniform previously obscured by the door, confirming he was a soldier from the base and not an intruder in a mask. You couldn’t help but tense again once you noticed his stature. Even from across the room you could tell he was well over 6’5. You’re sure he could reach his hand up and touch the ceiling with ease. Muscles with enough mass and definition to be seen even under the uniform.

What are they feeding these boys?

“Hi! I mean- hi. Uh,” Your introduction was shaky, but it was on par for your typical social interactions. After giving him your name, you asked for his.

“Konig,” He responded, his deep voice and coarse accent catching you off guard once again.

“Ha, yes. Nice to meet you.” You took a deep breath in hopes to conceal your fluster before continuing, “You’re here to help me test the new tech, right?”

Konig shifts in his spot a few paces from the door, not daring to step any closer to you. You’re wonder if you were coming off as too cold. “Uh, yes.” He clears his throat, “Just let me know what you need from me.”

Okay, straight to the point. You can do that. You’re happy to move on from the unsteady introduction. “Right,” You turn your attention from him to your laptop and the project in front of you. You hold up your device for him to see. He takes this as his invitation to move closer to get a better look, his black boots making their presence known as they stepped across the tile. The device resembled an earpiece - a small black strip attached to a coiled wire that ends with a sensible black base. “It doesn’t have a name. Yet.” You find yourself struggling to make eye contact with Konig, “Uh, here, it might be easier to just show you.” You flip the laptop around so he can see the screen. He’s standing right next to you now, and it’s hard not to notice how small you feel standing next to this giant of a man.

His bicep is the width of my head.

Stop it.

You try to smother your distracted thoughts as you put the device behind your ear and turn it on. A transparent projection in the shape of a curved rectangle covers your eyes, overlaying your view of the lab.

Konig watched silently as the screen on your laptop changed, now displaying your view through the lens. “This device is powered by AI.” You felt more confident now. You weren’t great at small talk but your work was your comfort zone.

“The possibilities are endless. Without being fed blueprints or GPS - it’s able to scan & provide a map of a building before you even set foot in it, and give you the safest path trajectories.” You make some adjustments from the laptop, and the projection overlays filters on your vision. Directional arrows appear, showing the easiest exit from the lab with coordinates and distance countdown to destination.

You continue, “Target identification.” You look at Konig from behind the transparent projection. He meets your eyes before quickly shifting his gaze back to the laptop, where he could see himself outlined in a bright red overlay.

“Scanning capabilities, even through solid objects. It can identify any object you want. Not just objects, either.” You turn your gaze toward the lab wall. Konig watches carefully as the faded outlines of workers on the base from rooms away appear, their heart rates and heat map registering from beyond the cold tile walls.

Konig stares, impossible to read.

“And uhm,” you pick up an additional device from the table, a thin square chip, “This is an attachment for your, er, weapon.” You cringe a bit at this feature, “The AI has aim assist, too. You know self driving cars? Ah, well, it hasn’t been fully tested yet, but in addition to auto aim it- uhm,” You can’t help but let out a nervous laugh, trailing off.

“It shoots for you.” Konig finishes so you don’t have to.

You wonder if the guilt is obvious.

It might as well be you out there in the field, taking lives. He’s probably disgusted with you under that hood, you think.

You purse your lips for a moment, “Yes. But we’re just scratching the surface. This technology is capable of-“

“It’s brilliant,”

Konig is skilled in the art of catching you off guard. He tilts his head, curiously eyeing in your direction. You wonder if he’s looking at your features or the projection,

“You made this yourself?”

You study him back, trying to figure out if he was mocking you, but unable to decipher his expression from under his hood. The AI continued to monitor him on your vision, and you felt as if you were violating his privacy by watching his heart rate slightly spike as he looked you over.

He must be lying.

You turned the device off and set it on the table, “Yes. It’s not perfect, but I’m hoping you can help me work out all the flaws.”

His stared quietly for a moment and you felt dread pool in your stomach, wishing you could see his expression under his hood. “I’d be honored to.”

A shaky smile formed on your face. You could no longer read his heart rate, but you found yourself wanting to believe the sincerity of his voice. “Let’s get started.”

You pick up another matching set of devices, two thin c-shaped bands, before continuing, “Obviously you can’t take a laptop out in the field. These are portable remotes.” Konig watches attentively as you place one of the bracelet shaped device on your wrist, tapping on it to summon another projection. “I tried to make it as user-friendly as possible. We can make adjustments if needed before launch.” You hold out the device toward him. “For you.”

He looks hesitantly at the device. Instead of taking it from you, he places his arm out on the table in front of you.

You’re distracted by your own remote and a moment passes before you register he hasn’t taken it from you. You glance over at his outstretched arm before meeting his eyes.

He sees your confused look and explains, “I just- I don’t want to break it.” Konig knows his own strength and he knows the worth of your project. He doesn’t want to accidentally apply too much pressure and ruin your work.

A nervous laugh escapes you, but you oblige him. You made this device for the battlefield, it’s meant to withstand more than a man. Even an extra large, muscular-

Stop it.

You’re not going to push. You carefully take his forearm in your hand, adjusting the device to his wrist. You try not think about how muscular and hard his forearms are, and try even harder not to think about how hard his biceps would be. And you definitively try not to think about how hard his-

Stop it.

“That comfortable?”

His voice is low, “Yes. Thank you.”

“Of course,” leaves your mouth, a little breathier than you intended.

Your face burns and you’re sure he’s got you pinned. You wish you could ask to borrow his mask.

It’s been a long time since you’ve experienced intimacy, okay? You’ve been confined to these four walls for months now, devoid of human touch. You’d be frothing at the mouth for anything bipedal at this point, let alone the mysterious superhuman sitting across from you.

You’re at a disadvantage, to say the least.

You can’t even look at him.

Konig carefully taps on the device on his wrist, activating his remote. The projection appears and he moves his arm to get a closer look. “This is the most incredible thing I’ve ever seen.”

If he didn’t notice your blush before he was sure to now. “Oh! I don’t-“ Another nervous laugh, “It’s nothing. Let’s get you calibrated.”

You pick up the earpiece and hand it to him, still avoiding his gaze. You’re forced to meet his eyes again when he doesn’t take it. There’s no way you could handle putting this one on for him. This time you reassure him, “It’s okay. I know it’s small, but it’s durable. I promise.”

He carefully takes it from you, and you try not to notice the electricity you feel when his fingers graze yours. He reaches under his hood, the fabric warping as he places the device behind his ear and turned it on, the same way he watched you do it. He then waited patiently for your guidance.

You put your earpiece on before making a few adjustments on your bracelets projection. “Okay! We should be synced now. Go ahead and pull up your settings.”

You take him through the customizations, telling him how to switch between visual overlays, how to use multiple at once. Display adjustments, how to use the intercom. He watches intently, never interrupting.

“I hope I’m not boring you.”

“Boring me?” Konig stares at you, eyes saturated with disbelief at your doubt. “It’s incredible.”

You feel the warmth creep up on your cheeks again. All of the doubts and moral dilemmas you’ve been mulling over the past few years seem to melt away when Konig compliments you.

“Want to take it for a drive?”

“Absolutely.”

—————————————————-

It’s been awhile since you’ve been out on the field. The passed months have been spent under the florescent lights of the lab, hunched over your laptop as you fought with code. Feeling accomplished when you made a step forward in progress, followed quickly by a sinking feeling as you tried not to think of the consequences of each development.

It was nice to feel the sun for a change.

Konig followed a few steps behind you, both sets of boots crunching on the gravel beneath you. Few words had been exchanged. There was something about unreadable people made you nervous, but you tried not to let it show.

You stopped once in front of the empty shoot house, looking up to the soldier that towered over you.

“I had weapons development make us a prototype gun to pair with the AI. It’s for testing purposes only, so it doesn’t shoot real bullets.” You pointed at the faux shotgun propped up against the outer wall of the shoot house. “The auto aim chip is already attached. It’s going to be something to get used to.”

You continue, “I’ve placed the AI on test. It will simulate the conditions of a mission in a way that adjusts to your learning speed. Obviously once you get used the system we’ll have test runs with real people, but for now I just want you to get used to the overlays. If you get stumped, just let me know. I’ll be able to hear and see what you can from out here. I’m synced in to your device, too, so if you can’t figure out the adjustments, or can’t access your device, I can take care of that for you remotely.”

“Understood.”

You couldn’t help but smile at the way he spoke to you like you had seniority, with the utmost respect. It made you feel important. Really it should be the other way around - a nerdy weakling in the presence of an experienced and powerful soldier. You briefly wonder what exactly a man of his stature is capable of. He looks like he could pick up a grown man and snap him in half like a toothpick. Let alone what he could do to you…

You force yourself to stay on topic, but your smile lingers, “Any questions for me?”

You still can’t decipher what’s going on under the mask, but his voice is soft, as soft as it can be under his rigid accent, “Negative.” He walks over to the prop gun and picks it up, handling it expertly. Even though it’s a replica, he still opens the chamber and curiously peaks inside. Watching his big hands run over the realistic firearm caused an intoxicating mixture of fear and arousal to wash over you, manifesting as a tightness in your lower gut. You can’t remember the last time someone made you feel this way. Dizzy and excited and nervous.

It didn’t help that you’ve spent the last few months practically isolated and without intimacy.

He’s going to be the death of me.

Stop it. We’re just excited about testing the project. It’s a long time coming.

He would make me come a long time.

Stop. It.

After you watch him disappear into the shoot house, you turn on the intercom, “Konig? Can you hear me?”

“Affirmative.”

His gravely voice flooding your intercom is not helping your dirty thoughts. You pull up his view on your projection. “Okay, I have your video feed. Are you ready for the simulation?”

He cocks the prop gun so loud you could hear it from inside the building in addition to the comm. “Affirmative.”

Oh, fuck.

The knot in your stomach doubles and you think your knees might just buckle. You shift in your spot in the dirt to steady yourself, gravel scraping under your shoe.

You hear your name over the comm. “You still there?” Your attention is brought back to his view. You can see the world from his eye level and get taken aback at how different it looks compared to yours.

“Sorry,” you clear your throat, raising your arm equipped with the wrist remote, “Okay, in 3… 2… 1…” You press the button to start his test simulation.

You watch as Konig looks around. He’s got target scan activated, and the AI has overlaid fake targets onto his projection for him to hunt and eliminate.

You watch carefully, scanning the screen for any imperfections in your coding. The guide seems to be working smoothly, directing Konig through the maze-like hallways of the shoot house with ease. The placement of targets are generated randomly and you’ll have to crunch the numbers later to verify, but it seems to have accurately calculated the most efficient route, directing him accordingly. You try to ignore the sound of Konigs hitched breathing over your receiver and try even harder to ignore the way it’s making you feel. Instead you make sure the auto aim function is activated.

“Approaching first target.” He says over the comm and you can help but smile at how serious he is taking it. You remember your first time in the range, testing out the auto aim on the simulations. How silly you felt. Like a child playing with a toy gun. You think it’s sweet he’s indulging you.

His steps become quieter as he rounds the corner and his breathing slows. He pauses briefly before quickly jumping out at the target. You can tell the auto aim takes over and the shotgun pulls against his grip with the force of a strong magnet. It’s alarming at first, you remember, the gun taking control from you.

It’s not like that, of course. You designed it to be a teammate. Able to identify and terminate a threat before the user had even registered it was there. It was meant to protect the user, to defend their life.

That’s what you tried to tell yourself anyway. It was easier to swallow than thinking of it as the automatic killing robot it really was.

You kept the auto-fire function off for now. Partially because you wanted to slowly transition him into the AI features. Partially because you were ashamed.

You watch as Konig takes back control of the gun. He’ll learn how to work with it instead of against it soon, you remember the same struggle you had yourself in early testing. He fires at the target, a projection of an enemy soldier the AI had slowed for training purposes. Konig pulls the trigger and you hear the sound of gunshots. In real life, of course, nothing had fired. But the AI simulation was designed to immerse the player, imitating the feel of the battlefield. From Konig’s perspective he may as well just shot through a human heart. Other than the learning curve of your designs- it seems natural for him.

It was not natural for you when you had experienced the simulation. If anything it was just a fully immersible prediction of the consequences to your actions. Fuck Around and Find Out™️ now coming to an VR headset near you.

You watched his target drop & fade away in a dust of pixels, a design change you made after being unable to bear the look of replicated dead soldiers lying limp on the floor.

It’s just a job.

“Konig? How did that feel?” You wished you could see his face on the screen before remembering you wouldn’t have been able to see anything behind his hood anyway. You briefly consider a self-facing camera, but wonder if it would be for the improvement of the design or for self-serving reasons. You’d have to think of another good purpose to add it to the final product later.

“It’s a lot faster than I am.” He stuck with the facts, not wanting to cause a misunderstanding if it was strange for him to get used to.

“That’s the idea. Weird, right?” You offered, your smile lifting the tone of your voice.

“Very.” You could tell he was smiling too. “I want to try a few more - I’ll get used to it.”

He continues through the shoot house, approaching the next simulated targets. He’s slowing learning to work with the AI, letting it guide him as he controls the trigger. You watch as your program learns his skill, escalating the challenge first by increasing enemy speed and difficulty, then by adding multiple targets at a time.

You can tell this man is a trained killer, even just from watching a trial. It’s clear he’d easily be able to handle a real mission with ease - your advancements or no. Watching his gloved hands grip the gun, his quickened breathing, made the tightness in your lower half hard to ignore. It felt wrong how his rugged demeanor turned you on.

He continued without faltering, navigating the shoot house’s maze-like layout with the help of your guidance program. Despite your reservations, you decide it’s time to add an additional integration. “Konig, the gun you’re using is fully compatible with the weapon chip. As in, trigger capabilities. If you’d like, you can turn on auto fire.”

There’s a slight pause, and you’re worried he’s realized the full implications of such a technology. You’re relieved when he finally speaks over the intercom, “I think I turned it on.”

You verify on his feed before responding, “You got it. Let me know if you need anything.”

Holding your breath, you observe your AI work. He rounds another corner and approaches two more targets. Your code was capable of identifying each target’s imminent threat level, eliminating them in order of danger to the user. You hear Konig’s breath hitch when the gun operates with a mind of its own, mowing down the simulated targets without hesitation. Each shot effectively tearing through the most vulnerable areas of the targets.

“Meine güte…” He mutters, taking a moment to register what had just happened. You watch his feed pan down to his gun, his hands turning it over to examine it in disbelief.

You wonder what he’s thinking as you watch those strong hands work. If he thinks you’re a monster for creating such a brutal and mindless killing machine.

“Konig?” Your voice is dripping with uncertainty, but it’s your job to collect his feedback, “All good?”

You watch his thumb stroke the forend before his gaze shifts up, “I think I might be out of a job.”

You let out a laugh, words pouring out of your mouth before you can stop them, “Well, I don’t think we’d be able to replace you.”

Ah, shit.

You’re hoping you didn’t lay all your cards on the table, but you don’t dare let the silence hang, forging on, “Human supervision is still needed when it comes to technology like this. You know, wouldn’t want it to turn evil and try to take over the population.”

You’re hoping you saved it, but the few seconds before he responds seem like a lifetime.

“Well if it was made by you, I don’t think it would be capable of turning evil.”

Your brain short circuits and your mouth parts as you ready to respond, but find that you’re unable.

What did he mean by that? If he was implying that you weren’t evil enough to negatively influence a code, then he didn’t know you. Of course he didn’t, he just met you.

Was he implying you were too smart of a programmer to let a technology go faulty? Then he REALLY didn’t know you. You think briefly to your failed prototypes. How long it took to work out the bug of the AI mistakenly registering civilian children as threats.

Ugh.

Whatever the implications, you understand that Konig just complemented you. Something you were not still not equipped to handle, demonstrated by your slack jaw and wide eyes you’re thankful he can’t see. All accompanied by a warm feeling that spreads across your chest.

He’s just being nice.

Sexual attraction, that you could handle.

Not a crush.

This is a no-crushing zone, you decide.

The warm feeling needs to stay below the belt, thank you very much.

It’s obvious you’re joking, but your voice has a different tone when you finally gather yourself. Softer, bordering on dispirited, “Well, I don’t know about that. Y’know, I once programmed a toaster to cook my toast the perfect amount every time. I wanted it to spring out at exactly the right speed & distance to land square on my plate. Like you see in cartoons, y’know? It worked for a little… but one day it starting burning all my toast to char and shooting it max speed at my ceiling. I think it got mad it’s life purpose was making my breakfast.”

You hear Konig laugh for the first time. A raspy, hearty laugh that floods your comm and fuels that warm feeling in your chest, much to your dismay. You nose scrunches as you watch the shake of his feed slow. “There are worse purposes.”

You didn’t even give yourself the space to dissect the implications on that one. The smile is apparent in your voice, “I’ll let the toaster know.”

Konig finished out the trial after getting used to a few more overlays. You confirmed you had everything you needed for the day before letting Konig know you could wrap up.

He met you at the entrance of the shoot house, handing over the gun to you. It took you a moment to get readjusted to his size. He was tall enough to block the entire sun, casting you in his shadow.

You hold the barrel of the gun with one hand, resting the butt on the dirt. With your other hand you remove your earpiece, “Thank you for your help today. Really.” You say, forced to tilt your head back to look up at him. “If you’re interested, I’d love to continue trials with you.”

“It was my pleasure. I’d be happy to help.”

He tried to take off his wrist remote before you stopped him, “You can hang on to that. I have all your data on mine. It would be good for my research if you got used to the overlays outside of here. I don’t want to assume your time, but I think it may be helpful in assisting you with your duties.”

Konig shifts in his spot, “I don’t want anything to happen to it.”

You smile at him, pleased he’s being so respectful of your work. “Don’t worry. If you manage to damage it, then it’s not good enough for launch. Even breaking it will be valuable research.”

He considers this before hesitantly dropping his arm.

You continue, “Just promise you’ll share your thoughts with me. I don’t know what the life of a soldier is like, I don’t always know what’s best for you guys. Your feedback will be important in tailoring the design to fit your needs. It’s just a prototype, so you can be honest.”

His eyes stare down at you from under his hood and you can’t help but avoid his intimidating gaze by looking at the black paint around his eyes.

“I promise,” He says definitively and it’s obvious he means it.

You have his word.

——————————————————————

Back in the lab, you take a deep breath as you set your prototypes down. You had parted ways with Konig at the shoot house and haven’t been able to stop thinking about him.

You take the ear piece and remove the chip from the prototype gun in order to transfer the data to your laptop. You had a long night ahead of you reviewing footage and analyzing the AI results, but you knew your focus was going to be elsewhere.

You hoped your distracted thoughts would subside after eating an early dinner and watching an episode of your most recent show binge, but it doesn’t help.

You can’t stop thinking about the soldier with a laugh so wonderful you’d do about anything to hear it again.

You did your best to stay on task and turned your attention to your laptop, opening the software you designed to store its data.

It finally loads and what displays makes you gasp, your hand instinctively shooting up to cover your mouth.

Konig’s feed is still live.

Your eyes dart over to your ear piece, confirming it’s turned off. He couldn’t hear you on the comm. His overlay projection is turned off, but he must not have powered the unit completely down, and you neglected to end the feed.

You still don’t dare make a sound. You sit frozen, staring down at the screen with wide eyes.

He’s not wearing the headset, no. You can tell the camera is sitting on something at hip-height, maybe a table or a bed. Definitely not Konig-height. You can’t see much, your view is facing the wall of what you can tell is a modest-sized room.

It’s five-thirty now, you guess he’s clocked out and went back to his quarters for the evening.

This is so wrong.

You were violating his privacy. You should just disconnect the feed now, and forget about it.

You should.

But you don’t.

Instead you slowly lower your hands, lips pursed. It’s not long before Konig comes in to view.

The only thing he has on is a towel wrapped around his waist. His head was cropped out of view, but you can see his chest and his pecs are as chiseled as you had imaged them. Abs you hadn’t previously considered begging for your attention. The towel is dangerously low and goddamnit he’s got V lines, of course he does, and you can feel the warmth pool in your lower abdomen again.

This is so so wrong.

You should end it. End the feed, end the software, end the project. You’ve already crossed so many lines and if anyone found out about this you’d be discharged so fast it would make your head spin.

You’re seriously considering if it’s worth being outed as a pervert and forfeiting your grant just to ogle at the ultimate beefcake while Konig gets comfortable on his cot, face still out of frame. You’ve got a view of his side now, showcasing the middle of his chest down. You can see the definition on his abdominal muscles and you silently thank yourself for opting for choosing the higher resolution camera for your project.

He moves his arms out of frame once he gets the towel adjusted, you’re assuming to prop them behind his head.

He lays still for a few minutes, and you wish you could see his face. You were almost done talking yourself into closing the feed when his arm comes back in to view. Strong hands and forearms followed by massive biceps.

Your breath hitches again when you realize he’s reaching down for the towel. He unwraps it delicately, letting each end hang off the side of the bed.

He’s fully naked now, and it’s official-

You’re a pervert.

His cock sits at half attention and he wraps his hands around it, stroking it absentmindedly.

Oh, fuck.

Your mouth hangs slack and you can’t help but let out a squeak. You double check to make sure you’re still in your software and didn’t somehow accidentally open PornHub. But no, you were definitely watching Konig rut into his hand, teasing himself to arousal.

It doesn’t take long for his cock to reach full attention, leaking precum from the swollen tip. Even scaled next to his oversized hands you can tell it’s huge.

He reaches down to cup his balls briefly before returning to his shaft, wrapping his hand around it and stroking gently.

You can’t stop watching now- you’re locked in, eyes glued to the screen and you don’t think you’ve so much as blinked this entire time.

You watch as he picks up the pace, biceps flexing as he fucks his hand faster.

A low moan comes through the speakers of your laptop. You scramble for the volume controls, reducing it until you were sure no one passing by in the hall could hear.

It’s addicting, his moans. Deep and gravely and you can’t help but close your eyes and imagine what it would be like for him to be moaning in your ear instead of over a screen. For him to be fucking you instead of his hand. Moaning like he’s approaching a release he hasn’t felt in decades.

When you open your eyes again he’s stroking faster, his whole body tensing, a glossy shine forming on his defined muscles. You can’t help but stare at his bicep as it flexes to jerk his cock.

Even without seeing his face, you can tell he’s getting close.

His cock is a blur as he pumps vigorously. His breath quickens before suddenly hitching, muscles fully clenched as he comes, the first few drops landing on his stomach and thighs.

His whole body constricts as the waves of the pleasure wash over him. You can tell it’s intense.

His pumping slows and his seed spills over his knuckles and down his shaft as he squeezes out the last of it, quivering at the sensitivity.

His muscles relax and he sinks back into his cot, wiping his hand on the towel. He lays still for a few moments, the sound of him catching his breath and his rising and falling chest takes stage. Until he removes the towel from underneath him, wiping away his mess.

You’re staring, eyes wider than when you started. Your knuckles lighten as you grip the stool beneath you. It wasn’t the finish that shocked you, no.

Not the size of the load that spilled from his huge cock.

Not the way he had bucked his hips, desperate for the touch.

Not the way his muscles had rippled through the phases of orgasm.

You were shocked because as he finished;

Konig had moaned your name.

Part two

[gabessquishytum]

Hob is a superlative thief.

He sometimes breaks into museums or other high security places just because he can (breaking into the Geneva Freeport was very cool ~ https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Geneva_Freeport ~ he didn’t even steal anything!)

Anyway he heard through his favorite unsavory circles, that Roderick Burgess had acquired some awesome priceless "magical" thing a little while ago. Well Hob is nothing if not curious.

Besides, Roderick Burgess is an actively horrible person, stealing from him would be a distinct pleasure. Hob hadn't even decided he was going to steal whatever the thing was, but he was going to take a look,,,,,and if it was less magical and more "kill the world" then he would grab it and drop it off with the most trust worthy government type he knew. And Hob honestly expects it's a kill the world thing, since you know magic is not real.

Hob was NOT expecting a person, person-shaped thing, pissed elder god thing, enclosed in glass and iron. How a douchebag like Roderick Burgess was able to trap and contain an elemental force of the universe Hob did not care to find out, but he knew he couldn't leave it in Burgess's "care."

Should Hob be finding seething man-shaped thing beautiful; stealing things tends to get Hob hot, sure, but he doesn't think it's ever been quite like this. Hob hopes he gets out of this mostly still sane.

OOO this is a super fun idea!!! I just think it would be really fun if Hob is just doing crime for fun and because he finds it kinda... hot. He's absolutely not freeing Dream for altruistic reasons, no way... he's just got a reputation to maintain when it comes to thievery!

Dream is less than thrilled to see yet another human coming up to his cage, but this time... its different. There's a small tool which cuts a small circular hole in the glass and lets the air come rushing in. Hob also smudges the binding circle (in fact, he upends a bottle of water to wash away the paint completely). And with that, Dream can use the rushing return of his powers to explode out of the glass orb.

He's obviously glad to be out, but he realises immediately that his tools have been stolen and dispersed. Which is when Hob pipes up again, and offers his assistance in recovering them. Who better to track down stolen goods, than a thief? By the time Dream reluctantly accompanies Hob back to his car, leaving the mansion and its occupants behind in eternal sleep, Hob has already tracked down the bag of sand via ebay.

Dream is still skeptical, but when Hob accompanies him to hell and somehow manages to pinch the helm from right under the demon's nose... he starts to think that it might be worth keeping this annoying human around for a while longer. Even Matthew is impressed. Especially when they all make it out of hell in one piece, and nobody even has to play the oldest game.

The ruby is obviously problematic and Dream almost forbids Hob from coming with him at all. But Hob is adamant that he always finishes up his jobs. He heads to the diner with Dream, just about resists the urge to go crazy and rob everyone in the place. In the end Dream doesn't need his help, but it's kind of nice to be just hanging out anyway. Obviously there could be nicer circumstances for a date, but Hob is kind of feeling some kinda way about this particular elemental force...

And Dream is obviously struggling with the events of his imprisonment, but having Hob around is a nice distraction. Even if he keeps finding Hob’s hand rifling through his coat pocket ("how BIG is that pocket?! I got my whole arm inside!" "It contains a multitude of unknown universes. Keep your fingers to yourself.")

Hob settles for holding Dream’s hand instead. Which is even better, actually.

[kanagenwrites]

So. Tuesday sucked.

We've all had a chance to come down from the "what the fuck" of it all, and we're starting to see the usual circular firing squad. Lots of lib centrists are doing everything they can to throw trans people, minorities, and basically anyone who isn't a finance bro under the bus, as is (very tiresome) tradition after both victories and defeats in the Democratic Party. I will be 42 years old in a few months, so this is far from the first time I've seen it, and sadly, I'm sure it won't be the last. To the lib centrists and those carrying water for them: This never works. Please stop trying it. Trans issues were not a major motivator; I'll get into that below. Sit down, kids, it's time for Auntie Kana's Fireside Dialectics.

One thing I've noticed is that a lot of my followers are significantly younger than me. (Imagine that, an audience that skews young on Tumblr.) A lot of you folks probably haven't been following politics for very long, and you've been able to participate in them for even less time than that. For some of you this is probably your first election as an adult, and it kinda feels like everything blew up in your face, doesn't it? I was about your age for 2000, when the election was nakedly stolen by George W. Bush, and not much older for 2004, when despite his disastrous presidency Bush the Younger rode a wave of 9/11-brained racism to the last popular vote victory the GOP had prior to (likely) this year. So I get it. I really do.

If you're living in the USA you have probably had a subpar education in politics and civics. This is largely by design - education is horrendously underfunded and there is a sustained attack on the ability of teachers to even discuss things like the Civil Rights Movement, the legacy of slavery in the United States, the genocide this country was founded on, and so on and so forth. Economic education isn't much better; you very likely got a short lecture on basic supply and demand and an argument-from-authority that "socialism doesn't work." All this combines to leave a lot of folks totally baffled as to how something like this election happens.

But it's pretty simple. It's just material conditions. That's it. What the media isn't telling you (because there's no profit in it, and the media is nothing but a clickbait engine when they aren't open propagandists) is that there has been a massive anti-incumbent wave of elections across the world. How massive? Japan's LDP, which has held power almost uninterrupted since the establishment of Japan's postwar democracy, managed to lose their recent election.

And why are material conditions so shitty? That's a complicated question, but a lot of it is the fact that we had a lengthy period of low inflation followed by a period of extremely high inflation due to the absolutely botched response to the Covid-19 pandemic. A bag of Doritos used to be 2.50, and now it's like 6 bucks. That's worse than all the inflation (and naked price-gouging, because there's a lot of that going on too) I experienced in my life prior to 2020, squeezed into the space of a year or two. This smacks everyone in the face every time they buy groceries, and while the government and the Federal Reserve were doing everything they could to manage inflation (and understand what a big deal it is for me, the anarcho-communist, to say that the US actually did an extremely fucking good job of doing it, because every other country on Earth had it worse than we did), they did fuck all to actually improve the material conditions people were experiencing. Wages were not keeping up with the cost of living, and price-gouging wasn't being dealt with.

Remember the 600 bucks Joe Biden still owes you? The American electorate sure the fuck does. Invisible backrooms liberal wonkery does not connect, regardless of whether it works or not, but going back on a promise? People remember that shit.

It's a rare incumbent that could win in an environment like this, especially when tied to a track record of doing exactly fucking nothing to actually help people from the perspective of the vast majority of the population. Kamala Harris was not that incumbent. She was a singularly uninspiring candidate who failed to connect with voters so thoroughly that she was on track to lose her home state in the 2020 Democratic primary. Nobody liked her (except a few very eager and very loud fans in the K-Hive), and speaking as someone who lives in California, I am not surprised she ate shit. She was a terrible choice for VP and a terrible choice of successor for Biden, but because Biden('s handlers) insisted on pretending he wasn't obviously declining before our very eyes, Harris, a singularly uninspiring candidate, had three months to build and run a campaign.

And it was still weirdly close.

Now, there's two possibilities: Either she actually ran an amazing campaign and it's incredible that it was even this close, or Trump is just so loathsome that even in a massively anti-incumbent environment he didn't bring anyone new to the table. Given that Trump is on-track to receive less votes this time than he did in 2020, and how many of those votes seem to have been cast for Trump and no one else down-ballot, I think it's more of the latter than the former. Trump brought the usual suspects, while Kamala successfully drove away voters that even Joe fucking Biden and Hillary fucking Clinton were able to bring home. Not on the left, not in minority demographics, but across the board. After all, if things are horrible and you're being promised that "nothing will fundamentally change," (literally an early-presidency quote from Joe Biden, whose agenda Kamala Harris 100% aligned herself with) and keeping in mind that the average American voter is not nearly so plugged into the minutiae and the day to day of politics (as evinced by the sudden peak in google searched for "Did Joe Biden drop out?" on Tuesday), why the fuck would you bother to vote?

Hopefully you have a better idea how we got here now. The question, of course, is where do we go from here? I will probably continue posting about this from time to time, especially if there's interest, but my advice is this:

We are still here. We will be here tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after that, and so on. Plan accordingly.

Things will get fucked up. Things will always get fucked up. That is the nature of things no matter who is running the government. Plan accordingly.

Organize. Develop parallel structures of power and assistance, because the government is likely going to be even more useless to directly assist you than it already was. Our greatest strength is each other, and our ability to care for and help one another.

I have been here before. You will be here again. It always feels like it's the worst thing ever to happen. That never really goes away, but your ability to deal with it, to plan around it, to endure it, and to rise up again on the other side of it and say "No, fuck you" is entirely under your control and within your capabilities. And you will get better at it as you do it. And you are not doing it alone. None of us are.

Do not give up. Do not surrender. This isn't the end, or the beginning of the end, or even the end of the beginning: it just is.

Now go watch a video of a cat doing something cute, or read some smut, or whatever gives you joy. You can't take care of others unless you take care of yourself. That's General Order #1: Take care of yourself.

Solidarity, y'all.

[jobresulttoday]

বাংলাদেশী সরকারি চাকরি প্রার্থীদের জ��্য ১৯ জানুয়ারী ২০২৪ তারিখে উপজেলা পরিষদ অফিসের চাকরির বিজ্ঞপ্তি ২০২৪প্রকাশিত হয়েছে। আবেদনের শেষ তারিখ ০১ ফেব্রুয়ারি ২০২৪। বিস্তারিত দেখুন..

[nc-vb]

𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐟𝐮𝐥, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐥𝐝

it is said that distance makes the heart grow fonder. instead, it only proves to make the water levels rise a few millimeters.

pairing -> neuvillette x gn!reader

warnings -> sfw, sad neuvi & reader, smooching

notes -> reader's position is a non-canon one

character mentions -> lady furina, fontaine npcs, non-canon melusine characters

wc -> 2.1k

It wasn’t so often that the paths of you and your lover could so seamlessly cross.

As one might assume, governing a nation is not a walk in the park, nor is it a part-time position. It is a twenty-four-seven, midnight-to-midnight, no-matter-how-small-the-crisis job that someone has to take responsibility for— with Monsieur Neuvillette, the Chief Justice, leading the charge of each court proceeding and Lady Furina as its grandest witness, and you, the Maison Ordalie's Directeur Général, helping them to uphold Fontaine’s values and protecting its honour from outside the marbled walls of the Opera Epiclese, Fontaine is a tightly-run ship that seldom allows for its men to enjoy much free time.

Though when it did, finally exiting the realm of your job responsibilities only then meant having to catch up on your neglected home responsibilities— tackling the towers of only partially rinsed dishes; taking out the trash you just knew would be stinking up your foyer since you’d put it there three days ago (which had been the last time you’d even been inside your home); rewashing the load of laundry you’d run out of time to hang up to dry and now was, most likely, moulding from being left in basket, still damp. Ah, and there’s probably so much more you’d been forgetting about.

This cyclic routine of yours had become nauseating a long time ago, only proving capable of transfiguring your already sour mood into something brazenly foul. Typically, there were very few things to exist that could improve it again, but the soft, muffled knocking on your front door by one of your sweet Melusine neighbours when she realized you’d finally returned home, fortunately, is one of those few things.

More often than not, she would bake once the weekend began, knowing you to be around at least long enough to be able to consume perhaps one of her newly learned confections. Somedays, you’d even been lucky enough to sit and enjoy them together whilst enjoying the views from under your shared garden’s gazebo. Being that you lived on the first floor of a three-floored pied-à-terre with three other Melusine living above you, who had also been found lucky to have much more manageable lifestyles, they often cared for the plants of the garden when you could not.

Even luckier for you, though, was having such kind neighbours that would go out of their way to take care of those aforementioned chores for you. Garden tended; garbage bags mysteriously vanished from the inside stoop; dishes sparkling clean and put away in their respective cupboards; laundry thought a lost cause having been hung up, dried, and folded, awaiting your return for them to be returned to their drawers— none of this had been you. Elsie, your second floor neighbour, had been the culprit, you learn, having rounded up her sisters Elie and Eloie two days prior to your return to surprise you.

“Have you seen Monsieur Neuvillette lately?” Elsie inquires, looking up to you from her place on your stoop. When you step aside to let her in, she shakes her head, lavender-coloured ears whipping about. “I won’t be staying. I only came to say hello and to give these to you.”

“Oh, I see,” you say, accepting the circular tin she raises toward you. Cracking it open a few inches, you smile at the soft treats. “Madeleines! Thank you, Elzie. And, to answer your question, no… I haven’t seen him lately… not even for work.”

“You’re quite welcome. Please find time to share them with the Monsieur today, then. Sedene mentioned he looked restless this morning.”

Without missing a beat, your heart skips one of its own, and your expression twists habitually guiltily. You know full well your absence from him, and vice versa, isn’t to be helped, and that the two of you have had this same conversation many times over. But it never proves to help whenever someone else points out either of your miseries.

You’d always thought the Palais Mermonia to be particularly cold, in company’s sense. It never mattered that it was always full of people, of employees, and even of Lady Furina’s raucous, nails-on-a-chalkboard cackle of a laugh, because you knew its Chief Justice much too well. In spite of his assurances that he would be alright, mind occupied by having to organize new cases and sort out the old ones, it wouldn’t be too long of a time later that you found the skies overcast, and yourself drenched by a sudden downpour.

You supposed, after saying your farewells to Elsie, locking your front door, and making your way to the other end of the Court of Fontaine, that today would be no different. Of course, you remembered to carry your parasol on you this time, accompanied by the tin of fresh-baked madeleines you promised Elsie to eat up. Today, the sky was shining blue, quite literally only minutes ago. So, either something sad or distressing has crossed his path, or, he’d been feeling sentimental again, because it’s raining again.

At the very least, you hope the cause for it to be the latter. This way, it can easily be remedied by you appearing before him, rather than him being consumed by the details of a case so heavily, and for an unspecified period of time. And there have been too many of these as of late that compared to last year’s weather, one might consider the possibility of that prophecy coming true just a little sooner.

Clutching the cookies tighter to you and keeping a firm grip on the handle of your parasol, you hasten across the bridge of the Court Region Waterway untoward the Palais Mermonia, greeting Bruneau and Liath and Plessia as you pass. The main doors are heavy, but even with your arms full, you manage to pry one of them open enough to enter the building.

You don’t both to carry your umbrella with you — it would just be yet another mess the building’s staff would have to trail after you for to clean — and instead shove it into the corner to let it drip there, telling the one guard that you would return for it, and them saluting you in acknowledgement.

Inside the Palais Mermonia has always been a plethora of people, staff and guards and visitors alike, but it is as you’d said— there’s a certain degree of emptiness to it that unsettles you whenever you visit here. Perhaps the grave amount of case files that sat in the archives surrounding Monsieur Neuvillette’s office cast such a dreary spell over the place; having been the one to compile many of them, yourself, for his records, you know firsthand just how dark some of their contents had been— to have to pass those off and share them with your lover had been your major grievance for your position. There’d been nothing you hated more than sitting in during his readings and seeing his expression change from the joy of having you appear to him, to the rage and sorrow of taking in the details of a new case. In those moments, you made sure to hold him a little tighter, a little closer, and speak just a little sweeter to him, a little softer.

The rain would, eventually, subside.

You push open the door to his office as gently as possible, and shut it just as carefully so as not to startle him. Without looking first to confirm, you know that he sits at his desk, pouring over the day’s files and records while it pours outside. His stoicism masked the obvious, though at least, this had been to you only— something was weighing heavily enough on his mind that it’d begun to affect the weather outside. Spending enough time with the man made this easy to tell.

“Neuvillette,” you softly call to him when he’d yet to look up. He jerks slightly in his seat, stiff shoulders losing their tension upon recognizing your voice, and the corner of his lips rise before his eyes can even meet yours.

“My love.”

If having you appear in a room filled with such disheartening unkindness is his relief, yours had always been the advent of a smile on Neuvillette’s face. A rare glimpse of the peace you often find yourself daydreaming over while away, the rush of pure joy you feel at the sight of your lover relishing your presence is nearly akin to the blessing of the gods— you only embrace him tightly enough and hope this feeling reaches him.

Nose pressed into the side of your head, hands and arms cradling you almost impossibly close to him, he breathes you in as deeply as physically possible— yes, his gesture promises.

You raise your chin from his chest and peer up at him, grin lazed and tired but pleased all the same.

“You were finally released from your duties?”

“If it were easy to delegate them to my juniors, it might’ve taken less time to escape,” you muse, hands sliding down his robes to claim his hands in yours— he squeezes them gently, grateful. “No one seems to know how to write a proper report anymore; I feel like I’m grading homework.” Neuvillette laments at the sudden shift in your expression, its complete opposite serving to dim the light in your eyes. By the way your grip tightens beneath his fingers, he supposes it must have little to do with your subordinates, after all.

“It’s… been raining for so long now,” you mumble into him, cookie tin forgotten atop his desk. “I tried to hurry to you, I-I…”

Neuvillette’s hand shifts along one of yours, quick to fit thin, nimble fingers in between your trembling ones. He lifts it, and presses your palm and fingertips into the smooth, porcelain coolness of his cheek— few words are found necessary, you’d both once agreed, as he’d always been a man of sterling gestures over forced sentimentality. In each glance, each touch, each curve of his lips upward, his vehemence never went unnoticed; it’d simply been his brand of love— demure and chaste, but abundant. There’d been no questioning his intention.

“I would sooner give up my position if it meant I could stay at your side at all times, if it meant you wouldn’t cry so much. If it meant you wouldn’t suffer alone.” Neuvillette sighs, a would-be defeated sound if not for remembering who he was standing with. “I… feel useless on days like these when I’m not with you.”

“Justice cannot relent so long as villainy works around the clock. It is our sworn duty to see such justice prevail, after all.” Neuvillette swipes a thumb over your lip, and subconsciously, you lean into his palm almost delightedly. “And you have done so beautifully, and without malice. Every word written in those reports from your juniors, while, written juvenilely, speak of your fairness. Your impartiality. Your ability to see both the truth and the good in all.” He turns his hand, pressing his lips into your palm. “It is admirable. It is my pride for you. It is why, as much as I wish you could stay at my side, as you said, I hope you can see the value and honour you bring in helping to protect Fontaine. I can’t imagine many else doing so well as you do.”

You raise your free hand back up to his chest, and push. A fraction of a single second is spent wide-eyed and confused until Neuvillette’s legs hit one of the many couches within the four walls of his office, and he is forced off-balanced into its plush. Your other hand gone unrelinquished, you fall with him, knees parted to either side of his and dipped deep into the cushion; Neuvillette’s breath hitches unnoticeably, yet at your sudden embolden proximity, his pale cheeks burn with vermillion.

“I’m supposed to be comforting you, you know,” your murmur.

A kiss to his temple, to the swell atop his cheek, to the button of his nose, and to the cleft of his lip— you lower yourself into his lap, parted lips dropping to slot between his and hands rising to thread into his strands of falling starlight, pulling him ever closer into you. It’s not enough, simply consuming him. You only wish to drown his sorrows, by whatever means necessary and however possible. If this means only having mere moments to appear before him, to deliver him sweets and treats of various kinds — not including yourself, of course — and holding him as tenderly as you do now for what seconds you must have left before having to leave again—

Tongue posed at his lower lip, your gaze is brought to the side and through the glass of the window. The rain. It stopped.

“And I can promise… you’re doing a fine job of it, my love.”

© nc-vb 2023 please don’t repost! reblogs & comments are always appreciated.

[tobiasdrake]

The thing about meritocracy is that people think it's a good way to hierarchically categorize people. Those who contribute the most to society rise to the top of the ladder and those who contribute the least sink to the bottom. Hard workers guide society, while those of low merit... Well, we don't have to talk about what happens to them.

Wink, wink.

The problems with this ideology are two-fold. The obvious problem is that it's heartless. Any ideology that exists to identify which people are fundamentally a higher class of human, to define a class of wheat that we can separate from the chaff of humanity, is one that is naturally inclined to arrogance and cruelty.

I'm sorry, but there is no way to try and define the Superior Human without getting into some Nazi shit. That's just how it goes. It doesn't matter if your definition is "chosen by God" or "the correct ethnicity" or "did really good at the capitalism market". You're already walking stepping in fascism's footprints from the moment you start down that road.

You cannot separate wheat from chaff without deriding a large swath of humanity as chaff.

But the other problem is that it doesn't even work as advertised.

On paper, the idea of meritocracy is that the people who work hardest will reap the most reward. This is what Americans think our culture is. If he pulls himself up by his bootstraps, even a lowly shoe-shiner may one day be CEO of a Fortune 500 company. It all depends on how much elbow grease he's willing to put in.

But what it amounts to in practice is a new form of mythmaking. Meritocracy is simply the modern justification for preserving power structures. Elon Musk did not become rich and powerful by working harder than everyone else. He spends all day at work playing Elden Ring.

But he is rich, and he is powerful. And we're a meritocracy, right? So then he must, therefore be the hardest working American.

"Merit" is not a quantifiable metric. There is no measurement you can take to show who the hardest working Americans are. The system of measurement that meritocrats use... is wealth.

Those with the most merit deserve the most wealth. And who has the most merit? How do you quantify and identify that? Well, it must be the people with the most wealth. They wouldn't have that wealth if they didn't have the most merit, would they?

Those with the most wealth prove, by having that wealth, that they deserve to have wealth. It's circular logic. It exists for the sole purpose of sounding good and reinforcing the existing power structures.

Meritocracy on paper says "Those with the most merit will earn more." But meritocracy in practice says "Those who earn most must therefore be considered to have the most merit."

Meritocracy is the modern version of the Divine Right of Kings. The King should govern because God has blessed his bloodline so. And how do you know that God has blessed his bloodline so? Because that is why he governs. He wouldn't govern if God had not blessed him so.

We, as a culture, have invented a secular version of the Divine Right and named it meritocracy.

But even if it worked.

Even if there was a real, firm quantifiable metric we could use to measure out who the truly hardest working is and reward them accordingly.

Meritocracy would still suck. Because it is a system fundamentally built on the Protestant Work Ethic. On the idea that work is, in and of itself, a demonstration of personal virtue regardless of whether that work is necessary or valuable.

It's built on the idea that we should all be spending our lives doing jobs, without interrogating the question of whether those jobs are even needed. The goal of progress and civilization is to allow increased production from decreased workers, and this is a goal that is at odds with the belief that all people should always be working all of the time.

We need new systems of belief. Not repackaged feudalism that rebrands the peasant class as "workforce" and tries to tell you that the local noble family must have been very smart and clever to be born into so much luxury. If we're ever going to move forward into the sci-fi future that so many techbros are salivating for, we have to start by letting go of the delusion of merit.

[thewriterwhowritesnot]

To Have and To Hold

A/N: I know y'all sent me asks. I saw them but I HAD to write this or I was going to burst. This is 2K words and less than 5% of what I have in store for this. If you'd like to be added to the taglist don't hesitate to ask! Enjoy!

Warnings: yandere!Alucard, fem!reader, nightmares

Summary: You travel to Dracula's Castle to help the owner get the place registered as a historical landmark and enter into an overwhelming relationship with Alucard.

Chapter One

Standing in front of one of the oldest castles you've ever been near, you marveled at the vast structure. This Castle dated back to the 1400s and was suspected of possibly being centuries older. To be the youngest historian in your class (and current job) and be given the opportunity to examine this place was amazing. There were rumors of this being the very castle that Dracula himself had inhabited. Not a firm believer in the supernatural, you regarded the legend with fascination and fearless curiosity. Inhaling the early morning air, you place the toe of your boot on the first step and a rush of chills runs through your body. The shock makes you slightly dizzy and you wait a moment before attempting to ascend the stairs again. This time there's no chill and you continue on, ignoring the gnawing feeling in your gut.

The doors of the structure are taller than any you've ever seen and you gingerly rub your fingertips against the hard door and the gothic dragon's head door knocker that hangs just beside your head. You lift it and let it fall with a heavy clang that somehow urges the massive door to open with an echoing creaking sound. Pushing the door open enough for you to slide through you look around and quietly step further into the room. The floor is made of sleek dark wood and spread out in one of the biggest foyers you've ever seen. There are pillars leading all the way back to a grand circular staircase. The middle of the floor is covered with a rich velvet rug surrounded by smaller circular and diamond-shaped rugs on the sides of it. There are several elegant seating areas and lamps decorating the room.

"Hello?" You say loudly. Your voice echoes through the hall and you stand still to hear some kind of movement. You're met with silence. A little unsettled you begin to turn around and nearly run into what you think is the prettiest man you've ever seen. He stands at about 6'2. Dressed in a black turtleneck and smooth black dress pants. Blond brows furrowed in a frown over honey-colored eyes burning with suspicion and what you suspected was disapproval. His bright hair falls lightly around his shoulders and the elbows of his crossed arms. His lips are pressed together in a firm line as he looks you over swiftly.

"Can I help you?" His voice is low and travels down your spine, resting in the deep pit of your womb. You breathe loudly, searching for the words to explain your presence.

"Uh..I-I was-, I'm supposed to be-, I'm here to see the castle." You hold out the papers in your hand that stated you had been sent by the agency that had contacted and received the consent of the owner of this property to come here.

The blond took the papers quickly and looked them over silently.

The land this castle was on was connected to a portion of the nearby town that the government was looking to modernize. In order for this place to be protected from future lawsuits and any other issues that might arise in reference to the land the owner of the castle had struck a deal with your organization. Getting this place registered as a historical landmark and privately owned property would ensure its security which is why you had been sent.

After a moment, he folded them back up and handed them to you. You took them back and shoved them into your bag before looking up at him again. Though the original suspicion had subsided, the intensity of his gaze had not. You bit the inside of your cheek silently as he stared you down.

"There are parts of this castle that are under construction. Places you will simply not be able to visit for your safety. Do you understand?" You nod quickly. His eyes narrowed slightly and you swallowed, hoping he couldn't hear the speed at which your heart hammered in your chest. "I've had a room set up for you and I'll do my best to provide you with whatever you may need while you stay here. Come." He turned swiftly and headed toward the large staircase towards the back of the room.

It took you making it to the steps to gain the courage to begin a conversation. "This place is so large and beautiful. How long have you lived here?" He glances at you out of the corner of his eyes and subtly picks up his pace. "I was born in this place."

"Wow, that's amazing. Have you lived here your whole life?” You skip forward a little to keep up. He audibly sighs, seemingly exasperated with your questioning. You were used to people getting bothered by your questions so you patiently waited for his answer. He seemed to recognize you were probably going to press on because he slowed down and looked at you more pointedly. “On and off throughout my life. I was raised here and traveled in my adulthood and have returned. This place is my home.”

 You gasp excitedly. “Well, that’s wonderful! You’re the best person to talk to about the history of the place.” You pulled out your notepad and pen. “When exactly was this place constructed?”   He frowns slightly, eyes scanning the walls as he thinks. “It’s very old. Perhaps sometime in the 1100s.”

“That’s so long ago! To create this kind of structure in that century is amazing. It’s futuristic. Who’s responsible for the build and the design? How many people did it take to put this place together? How long did it take to build?”

  In the span of you speaking you both had stopped walking and he was staring at you with a peculiar expression on his face. “Are you always this animated?”

 You shrug. “You should see me after I’ve been caffeinated.” His eyes soften and the corners of his mouth curve upward. He resumes walking and you follow. “Is that bag the entirety of your luggage?”

“There was a bit of a mixup at the airport so my bag should arrive in the country sometime tomorrow. They’ll call me when it gets here. Thankfully it was only clothes. Everything else I need is in this carry-on.”

“The cellphone reception here is very difficult. The airport will contact the nearest mailing office in town and they’ll call me on the landline. I’ll let you know tomorrow if they do so.” You nod as he stops in front of a tall door with a rose on it. He opens the door unceremoniously and steps aside so you can enter first. It’s larger than your studio apartment and the apartment next to it combined. The floor is littered with what you thought could be hand-painted flowers and beautiful swirls. The ceiling was dark and seemed to reflect the brightness of the art on the floor. A canopy bed was pushed against the farthest wall with large nightstands on either side.             There was a smooth cream chaise with orange flowers embroidered on the cushion beside the fireplace. In the back of your mind, you can feel his gaze on you as you continue to marvel at the place.             “It’s so pretty.” Gently dropping your bag on the floor, you turn to look at him. “Thank you for allowing me to stay here. It’s wonderful, truly.” He nods. “I’ll be back to collect you for supper.” He shuts the door and you listen for his footsteps as he walks away.

After you’re sure he’s gone you skip around the room looking at every detail before plopping on the bed and sighing. The soft blankets enveloped you and before you knew it your eyes were heavy and you were drifting. 

It was lonely in the dark. Clinging to the walls like your life depended on it. The whispers urged you to run to get away as soon as you could.              Run. Run. Run. They urged. But you couldn’t. Your legs were noodles beneath you and he was coming. Too fast. So fast you gave up and plummeted down, down deeper into the dark as fear swallowed you whole and his hot breath scorched your neck.            

You jump awake as your body is shaken. Pulling you into consciousness. The room comes into view and so does the worried face of the man you’d met earlier. Slowly, you become aware of the feeling of his right arm under you, holding your body to his as his other hand rests on your forehead. You take a deep breath, noting the soft scent of his cologne and the feeling of his breath brushing over your skin like a shy kiss.              “Hi.” You whisper. He chuckles shakily. “Hi. I thought you were-, you were shouting. Were you having a bad dream?” You blink in confusion. “I can’t remember. I’m sorry for disrupting you.”              He shook his head, letting his hand slide down the side of your face before allowing you to sit up. “Don’t worry about it, Y/N. Dinner is ready. You look famished.” He rises without another word and heads for the door.              He leads you toward the kitchen. The kitchen was just as beautiful as the other parts of the castle you’d seen. The floor was lined with black and white checkered tiles. The sink was larger than any modern one you’d ever seen and the small table in the middle of the room had five chairs surrounding it with a vase full of yellow flowers in the middle. There were several medium-sized dishes with baked chicken, vegetables, and mashed potatoes placed around it. There were two places for both of you to sit.

            “I hope you don’t mind eating in close quarters. The dining room is rather large and I rarely use it except for gatherings.” He glided past you and pulled out a seat for you to sit. You smile shyly and take your seat, allowing him to push the chair up. “Did you make all of this?”             He sat across from you and unfurled his folded napkin. You watched as he elegantly laid it over his lap and began to fill his plate. “Some. My cook, Marguerite, helped with the side dishes after setting your room up.”             “Ah.” You murmured absently as you watched the way he delicately grasped the dishes. He placed the food on your plate without asking and you made no move to protest. Too mesmerized by the prettiness of your host. He avoided your gaze, keenly aware of your eyes on him as he sat the last dish down and began to fill your glasses with some fizzy drink in a sleek bottle.              It was then that it dawned on you that you had yet to exchange names but he had already called you by yours. “How did you know my name?” He looks at you then. 

“Hmm?” 

“My name. You called me by name earlier. I don’t remember me telling you or you telling me yours.”             He resumed cutting the meat on his plate. “It was on the paper you handed me earlier. Both of our names.”             “So you’re Adrian.” You said slowly while scooping up a bit of mashed potatoes and tasting a bite.             “You sound so surprised.”             “I am. I thought you’d be some old guy. You look really young to own a place like this. Don’t you have any family?” 

His movements slow, staring at his plate.

            “I’m alone.” 

The words are a whisper and the quiet in the room is deafening. “Me too.” You say quietly. “I’m an orphan.” His eyes find yours and you give him a small smile before turning your attention back to your food.

As the night continues, you begin to see Adrian’s cold exterior melt away as you talk about his memories of this place (careful to avoid the questions regarding his family and how he lost them).

You learn of the history and take note of it in order to write it down later. At the end of the night, you’re drowsy and Adrian takes you to your room. Before you enter he points towards a big black door at the end of the hall. “My room is there. If you need anything throughout the night just knock.” You nod and watch him enter his room before entering your own. 

Tag List: @hoppershoe @c-crow-chatters

[wolven91]

A Heated Bed - Chapter 1

[Trigger Warning; Dubious Consent. References to Depression / Isolation]

Matt sighed through his nose as he turned off his workstation and glanced up and out of the office window, into the transport sector where he worked on board the spinning station. From here, new arrivals and materials would be shuttled off to wherever they were needed aboard the station itself.

Another day done, just like the hundred that came before it and now he was just going to head home. Without a hint of uncertainty, he knew that his evening would follow the same pattern as all the others. He thought getting a job out in the stars would be exciting! He'd be like Kirk or Mal or something!

But no. He was just a clerk.

He was still just 'Matt' and as it turns out, the rest of the alien folk up here, tend to give humans a wide berth. Thanks to everything that had happened, humans were well known now as the 'rare' ones and had a multitude of rules and regulations surrounding them. The aliens couldn't even get a selfie with a human without some serious thought first thanks to the worry that something in the background would tip off 'would-be' kidnappers. Not only that, but thanks to his inherent 'value', the various governments enforced the requirement that humans scattered themselves out. No one station could have too many humans or they'd become too juicy of a target. The station Matt was on was actually, fairly 'near' to the Sol system, at least on a galactic scale. He was on the 'southern' most edge of Galactic Community territory.

So here Matt stood on his own, completely ignored. Oh sure, everyone apparently loved humans, but right now? Nobody wanted to get too close in case they got into trouble by overstepping some hastily thrown together rule with little to no thought behind it. It seemed no-one really knew what to actually do about humans, so ignoring them was the safest choice and the administration would deal with whatever issue popped up.

Matt considered that it had been just short of four months since he'd last stood on a planet as he leant against one of the railings exiting the office in which he worked. He was in no rush, so stopped to watch the 'world' go by. Despite him being high up, it was louder out here, claxons and alarms whooped and alerted staff of moving machinery in the distance. The transport sector of the station was a huge, cavernous and very busy space, it could have fit the statue of liberty and the torch would barely scratch the roof. As it was, most of the walls were dominated by airlocks and maintenance bays, pulling ships in to be disembarked or their payloads removed within the safety of the station, but the centre of the zone was administration and various storage bays for materials.

Far above, tram stations ferried passengers at high speeds around the circular station, disappearing into the massive bulkhead walls that separated the sectors. One such tram silently whizzed past as some of Matt's colleagues exited the office space and headed towards the lift.

"Did you hear?" Matt overheard as they walked past.

"There's a new species joining the station! They just arrived, let's get down there quickly!" Burbled a sluggat, while the young male taurian trotted along beside them.

"They're not new, they just didn't leave their territory very often until now. It's like someone lit a fire under every single one of them or something?" The youngster said. The taurians were an odd bunch, the males seemed to gracefully glide along despite having hooves beneath the flowing silk dress.

What they were discussing however, perked the human's curiosity. The various races that he'd seen so far were all as unique as they could possibly be and aside from sharing the odd trait, most were a sight to behold when they first arrived. It was jarring to the human mind to see an alien; to understand and know that they were conscious behind the eyes and not human at all. Matt wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing, but he tried to take the many eccentricities of the various races in stride.

Walking to the lifts that would take him down to the station foyer, he found that seemingly everyone had the same idea. But at the sight of the walking bad luck charm that was Matt, the being closest to the lift's buttons started 'subtly' hitting it rapidly.

"Oh no, the doors are closing I don't understand what's happ-" The closed doors cut it off. Matt frowned but he wasn't surprised. They were as subtle as a brick through a plate glass window.

By the time Matt made it down to the new arrivals building, he had long since lost his passion for seeing the new race and was wondering why he was even still heading in this direction. He walked over to the main balcony and looked over to the entrance to the station from the docks and saw the usual traffic one expected, not the heaving mass of new arrivals.

He sighed and leaned down to rest his chin on the side of his fist that rested against the rail in dejection. He didn't really feel sad anymore, he just wanted to talk with someone... no... not even that... just to feel physical touch again, that would be enough. He closed his eyes and made a hopeless wish.

"Excuse me." Said a calm, smooth voice from behind and above him.

He flinched, clanking his head off the higher railings that protected the taller races from falling and straightened up to turn around, rubbing his head. He hadn't heard anyone approach; ssypno slither, taurians clop and ursidians shake the ground, who could sneak up on him so well?

Turning around he was left staring at the fluffy midriff of an alien, so he tilted his head back and kept tilting.

Eventually making eye contact with the owner of said midriff, it had heavily lidded, bright green eyes that regarded him in an aloof manner and yet there was a vague interest there, like it had seen him from a favoured seat and couldn't decide whether to get up to come to him or remain seated.

She, he assumed based on her rich voice, was tall, at least eight feet and wider than himself as well. The thick long fur that covered her from the top of her pointed ears to the tips of her large paws reminded him of a snow leopard. She sported greys, blacks and whites, giving her a very unique appearance. The other aspect he saw was that she was muscled; this couldn't be someone who did nothing all day, this was a dangerous person even without the obsidian claws that protruded slightly from the tips of her hands and feet. One of said paws with tapping the claw against her chin as she considered him.

"Er, hello? Are you one of the new arrivals?" Matt asked, aware he'd never seen one of these things before.

"Mm, yes... Hold still please." She said absently, not ignoring him, but like she was thinking about something more important while interacting with him. She stepped forward, closer to him, crowding him, it was a far cry from his usual environment of having an oasis of space in the crowds, he stood his ground. A strong arm reached out and, nearly touched his face, but paused a hair's breadth away, she smelt of something like citrus.

"Are you an ill taurian?" her cool voice asked, hand still somewhat hovering close by. Matt could feel the tiny hairs on his skin sensing her proximity.

"Ah, no. I'm a human, I'm afraid this is normal."

"Good." She decided cryptically before turning and stalking away, a long thick tail trailing behind, briefly brushing under Matt's chin before leaving the human confused, bemused and alone once more.

=== 0 ===

Sometime later it was late, and Matt found himself back in the residential district and on his floor, nearing his room. His quarters were sequestered away from others, practically having an entire habitation block to himself. Once more, it was easier to just isolate the vulnerable human than have him potentially interact with others.

His interaction with the new alien however was replaying in his mind. It was one of the longest conversations he had had in over a month. He was disturbed however, as ever since that interaction, he had a vague sense of being watched or followed. Turning and looking over his shoulders, each time resulted in empty hallways and nothing out of the ordinary. Did he want to see her again? Did he want more than to 'just' see her?

"Yeah.." He vocally admitted glumly with a hint of guilt to himself.

He chalked the 'being followed' feeling up to his mind wanting to see someone, his brain had a brief taste of the 'good life' and now cried out for more. He got to his door and placing his forehead against it, unlocked it. He straightened up, smelt citrus again and opened the door with a confused expression as he wondered the scent.

"This will do." Said a familiar voice both behind and above him. Strong paw-like hands grasped his waist, effortlessly picked him up and, bodily turning him, he was pressed against the strange alien's wide hip as she ducked her head through his front door gracefully and entered his abode with him under her arm.

"W-what are you doing?!" Matt exclaimed, stunned into compliance, not considering that he should maybe flail about or resist in some fashion. He was stunned into limply going along with the strangeness of the situation. Was this a kidnapper!? Is this how it all worked!? Nobody had actually explained it all, they just said 'kidnappers'!

She, again, whilst responding to him, was focused on looking around his modest albeit basic home and stalking further in.

"There are no sunbeams on this station, and it is cold. You will assist, I am adopting you." She said as a matter of fact as she moved into his bedroom, her movements were so graceful that despite him being held horizontally against her hip, he wasn't jostled or shaken with her footsteps as she moved.

Walking up to his bed, rather than move around it, she merely took a step up onto it, walking into the centre before turning in place. The whole thing groaned under her and his weight. Next, she released him without warning, so he fell the short distance and bounced one, then twice onto his back with the fall. He blinked, still utterly shocked into confused stillness.

"Hmm, you're clumsy then. That is fine, I will work with you." She said while staring down at him from her seemingly mile up vantage point. From his perspective, her legs went on forever. Her arctic colourings were emphasized, but it was how she was looking AT him that caught his breath. She wasn't avoiding him, she wasn't ignoring him or even treating him like he was made from thin porcelain. He was the sole subject of her attention, she wanted to give him her attention and he had no clue what to do.

Before he could react further, she folded herself down onto his mattress and duvet. Laying on her side she effortlessly grabbed a hold of his hips and drew him into herself with one solid pull whilst he uttered a single squeak in surprise. Her strength moved him without so much as a grunt of effort by her.

He struggled for a moment, but the arm he was now laying on, curled around, bicep flexing against his cheek and held his opposite shoulder, the other arm draped over him and held against his chest, gently running fingers up and along his jawline, soothingly. A long fluffy leg entwined itself around his own and she curled in on herself, forcing him deeper into her 'hug'. The very thick and fluffy tail made a reappearance and settled, draped across him... almost protectively? He continued to try and half-heartedly pull away, but despite the strangeness; he was secretly... shamefully... enjoying it. Despite his wiggling, none of his actions could have actually broken her hold...

Tiring himself out however, he eventually recognised that he could feel the soft, thick pelt fully covering and pressing into his back and sides with ease, his head was tucked under her chin still resting against her arm while her chest fur framed his world with the ends of her pelt, surrounding his vision. He was warm, for the very first time in a long time, he was deliciously warm. The interloper was right, the station was cold, he'd just gotten used to it.

Laying still, whilst confused, and bewildered, he had to admit it was quite pleasant being held so firmly and protectively as a 'little spoon'. When the rumbling purr started behind his head and chest, it rolled through him like an old-fashioned massage chair. It was soothing and she offered no other words or statements as they settled. Catching his breath, the rhythmic rumbling gently unravelled the tensions that had built up in his back and neck. It was a few minutes later that he flinched awake, realising he was dropping off and he realised that this was completely mental!

She couldn't just 'adopt' him, right!? This was technically his home! It was the other way around, surely!

He took in a breath to start shouting, but the coiling loneliness inside his chest had him pause. It gripped at his heart, inspiring fear. Whilst his mind happily supplied the idea that protesting might ruin a good thing. It was an alien, right? A new one? Maybe they didn't understand this wasn't normal? Sluggats are strictly opposed to physical contact, even offering a handshake is tantamount to threatening one's life, so maybe she was just unaware?

Stifling a yarn, he came to the decision that he would have words with her in the morning. He could share his home for a weary traveller this once. She may be rude, but he'd be polite...

...yeah... that was it...

=== 0 ===

Many hours later, Matt had no desire to wake up.

He felt warm and calm, the bliss of a rare full night's sleep undisturbed was not something he had any desire in leaving any time soon. As his mind came back to the waking world however, he understood that he was laid on his front.

Matt smiled as he realised, he didn't need to go to work, it was the weekend. He couldn't recall any other pressing matters that needed his attention either. He was safe to relax and take things slow today, no need to leave such a comfy bed.

He rolled his shoulders to prepare to stretch when he noticed that his movement was severely limited.

In fact, he could barely move at all; something rather large and heavy was weighing down on him across every inch of his body and limbs. He could breathe, but it was like having several weighted blankets on top of him.

Opening his eyes, the first thing Matt took notice of was that he was pressed deeply into the mattress. He could see a curtain of grey and white fur bordering his vision from whatever was limply placed on his back. He was essentially spread eagle on top of the covers, but every inch of him was covered by something warm and soft. He moved his arm, sliding it across the bed and out from beneath the foreign arm that had been placed on top of his own, the larger of the two thudded against the mattress with the sudden loss of his limb beneath it.

A stirring from above and a low grumble, rumbled through his spine as whatever, or more to the point, whoever it was, woke up apparently due to him moving his arm so suddenly. The other occupant of the bed reached out to his hand, pushed their leather pad clad fingers through the spaces between his own fingers and gripped his hand, holding it still with a strength that prevented any more use of the limb. The worrying part was that the arm and hand weren't tense at all but held a strength that dwarfed the human's. The interloper's hand was nearly double the size of his, he could feel the pads warming the back of his palm. They were soft and almost hot to the touch.

Matt blinked in utter confusion as he tried to remember what was going on. After taking some time to calm himself and figure things out, he realised that the strange dream he had last night, was not a dream after all. The giant cat-like alien that had joined the station yesterday, had followed him home, physically picked him up, barged into his home and declared that she had 'adopted' him. Regardless of how well he had slept after so long buried beneath her, or how soft and warm her fur was, this was beyond what he could accept as proper behaviour. He needed to give her a stern talking to.

"Umph.." He started, catching a mouthful of fur and duvet, forcing him into shaking his head to clear it.

"Er... excuse me? Hello?" He stated in as demanding a tone as he could, bearing in mind he was still buried underneath the one he was trying to address, which undercut his authority somewhat. He didn't get a response, so he cleared his throat and again, he also tried to buck his hips, moving the body above him, but only barely as she was still a dead weight from above, her hips merely fell back down on him from behind.

"Excuse me!"

A groan was spoken directly into his ear.

"Mm. Go back to sleep. It's too early, little one." A drowsy voice spoke out, before the head on top of his lifted and he felt a broad, wet, and rough tongue lick the hair on the back of his head twice, before the weight returned and it pressed him back down into the mattress.

"What.. hey! No! Don't go back to sleep! What's going on here!" He exclaimed, again, trying to wiggle as much as he could with his limited movement, he had to get her awake and moving! In the end it appeared as if he was recreating 'the worm', the now long-lost dance move of the now destroyed Earth.

A deep and dramatic sigh of someone extremely displeased was given in response, before her almost 'noble' voice came back, far less sleepy this time.

"What is it? This is far too early 'human'." She asked from behind his ear.

"Who are you? Why are you in bed? What's going on?!" He asked in a tirade of questions that tumbled out from him.

Another exasperated sigh came from the creature, before her hands released his, she curled her arms around his chest, a leg looped behind his knee and she rolled in one movement, so she was on her back, her head against his pillows and he was dragged along for the ride. He ended up facing upwards, being held against her body with her underneath his back. A clawed hand snagged the duvet and pulled it over both of them, leaving the top of the thick cover, underneath Matt's chin. The hand landed on his head and began to draw a set of claws gently through his hair, ever so slightly scratching at his scalp.

Overall, it felt quite pleasant, the low rumbling purr returned as it rolled over his body. At least she was awake, so far, his attempt to establish dominance over the situation was going well.

"I am Her Highness Varuna; you may call me 'your majesty'. We are here because we were both tired and due sleep, we are still tired I will remind you. As for what's going on, I am being rudely awakened and you are asking questions."

"I meant... highness? No, I meant why are you in my home? What did you mean by 'adopting' me?"

A rumble.

"Ah, you were able to provide appropriate warmth and I am adopting you because you do not currently live with another felinoid. Now my turn my human. What is your name and how many humans are there on this station?"

Matt's eyes briefly rolled up in his head as she continued to run her fingers through his hair, scratching and clawing at his scalp. She would draw her hand through one way, then brush back with the curve of her claws, rather than the points. Goosebumps crawled up and down his arms. He supressed a shiver, but she still gave a single mirthful 'humph' as his body quivered.

"I'm Matt... and none. Just me."

A dissatisfied huff came from above as her hand stopped to grip his head in her oversized paws gently.

"Urgh.. There is not enough. The rumours that you humans were rare has been understated. This is both good and bad it seems. You humans are perfect, and I do not wish to share." She growled to herself, before she relaxed and continued her attention.

"Share? Like with the rest of your kind? I thought you were a queen or highness or something?" Matt asked confused as to why someone of her position would be in his room and would even need to consider 'sharing' whatever that meant.

"A-a-and you can't just 'share' me! What if I don't consent? I-I-I could have you kicked off the station for breaking into my home!"

She sighed, a brushed the back of her furred fingers against his cheek.

"I am sorry if I have offended, if I have distressed or hurt... I apologise..."

"It's fine." Matt parroted automatically before admonishing himself. He was meant to be angry! He was supposed to be angry! As a severe introvert though... even back on Earth he had been adopted by those who were more outgoing than him.

"I have no interest in upsetting you, but my kind are very interested in your kind. You are supremely unique, and we are a race of those who seek out the unique."

"W-what do you mean? Am I being kidnapped?"

A flinch from below.

"No! Bleck! Not at all, freedom is above all things! Freedom of the self, freedom of the choice, freedom is ultimate and the only thing that must be demanded." She stated firmly seemingly repeating a mantra or oath. She pulled away from him for the first time to raise a single digit upwards to emphasise her points.

"If you... choose... not to have us around, then we will not be around. Our people... our... society... is about enjoying oneself, I believe 'hedonistic' might be the correct word, but poorly explains it. We no longer must toil, so why should we? If you want to; go, work and earn. If you don't? Relax and work on yourself. Freedom, above all."

"So.. where do I come in? How am I to be 'shared', this is what I'm confused about."

"Alongside Freedom, is experiences, the truly desired 'unbuyable' thing." To punctuate her next sentence, she started by tapping his nose with a soft leather pad on the end of her finger. "Humanity is new and rare. We sought you out to experience you. I would have settled for sight and smell, but then you spoke with me rather than ignore. You did not stop me when I reached out to touch you. Even last night, your home was easy to find as it smelt of you, so I waited. You did not protest my entry until we were already settled and even then... you did not say 'no'."

A joyful 'hm' came from behind his head.

"Your actions were half-hearted, so I believe you enjoyed last night. Am I wrong?"

"No..." Matt tilted his head in reluctant agreement, but that was pushing it to say the least. He'd need to teach them the do's and don'ts before they got into trouble. Still, he'd rather have a bit more control over his life than being 'told' what he was going to do.

"But! You can't just barge into someone's house and expect to be welcomed in, arms wide! This is weird!"

"You don't like this?" She asked, hurt bleeding into her tone and her hand moved away in hesitation, holding away from him as if to release him. The loneliness returned with a writhing behind his ribs, it felt like a snake retreating backwards, towards her.

"It's not... it's not that it doesn't feel good, but you have to.. to.. introduce yourself or something? Be invited in."

She was quiet for a time, her hand clasped his head again, but didn't move now, but it warmed his exposed flesh pleasantly.

"Strange, no wonder we kept to our own for so long. We expected to be welcomed and praised, but the reception so far has been.. underwhelming. I suppose I could lower my expectations... 'Slum it' if you will? Would you be able to teach me the social graces of your world?"

"Social g like you don't know how to interact like the rest of them? I mean, I'm still learning myself, but I guess I could?"

"Matt, was it? May I start again?"

"..sure?"

"Good morning warm human." She began, a jovial tone now adorning her voice, Matt couldn't help but snort and grin as he remained laying on top of her, chuckling against her.

"Good morning crazy cat lady. How are you?" he responded, playing the part.

"I am well! May we share heat, it is cold, and you are very warm?" She asked, starting her purring once again beneath him.

Matt rolled his eyes and relaxed somewhat. She seemed to mean well, if not a bit ditzy, not to mention she was quite one track minded.

It was going to be an 'interesting' few weeks attempting to educate his new 'student'.

=== 0 ===

"My name is Ruby." The felinoid answered him later on as he cooked.

Matt frowned as he leant over the stove, finishing up at getting the 'bacon' as crispy as he could. How he had ended up on cooking duty after being the 'bed' as well, he wasn't sure; but the large cat creature currently picking through his apartment behind him had wrangled this somehow. Still, he was glad to find that whilst pigs did not survive earth, there was something called a 'squidgit' that if their meat was prepared correctly, tasted very similar. Apparently, you could cook them every which way and they tasted different each time.

He scraped the 'bacon' strips onto a plate, next to the scrambled eggs on both plates. He had no idea where the eggs came from, however.

He looked behind him to see the green eyes with the black slits in the middle staring back at him. She had seated herself in the middle of his sofa with one leg crossed over the other, she rested her hands, fingers interlaced, in her lap.

"I like your eyes by the way..." He blurted out without thinking.

"Mm, thank you. I had them changed a few years ago, I got bored with my natural yellow colour."

"Changed?"

"Freedom, my dear Matt, freedom in everything. We felinoids will often change our appearance. Quite dramatically I will add. Our kind are adept at appearance adjustments."

With a nod and quick, nervous smile, he walked over and offered the plate. It wobbled slightly due to his nerves. He wasn't used to being under such scrutiny after months of being ostracised by the rest of the aliens aboard. Why did he care so much as to what this alien thought of him? He couldn't be smitten or anything, she was an alien. She accepted the plate with one hand, with an ever so slight smirk, tugging at the edge of her lips.

"Cutlery." Matt reminded himself, turning and moving back to the kitchen to retrieve somewhat clean utensils from the sink. He gave them a rapid but thorough wash and dried them in short order. When he moved back to the sofa with a knife and fork in hand, an empty plate was being held out for him to retrieved back.

His mind was confused for a moment; he'd given her a plate of food. Right? Had she'd just tipped the whole damn plate down her gullet?

"I should thank you, shouldn't I?" The artic felinoid stated, blinking slowly. "I'm very grateful, that breakfast was delicious." She finished as he plucked the empty, greasy plate from her hand.

"I-... sure, no worries?" He returned to the small kitchenette and retrieved his own plate. Whilst she claimed not to no what manners to employ, he hadn't actually 'taught' her anything yet, but she was now seemingly acutely aware of what social expectations were placed upon her.

Matt moved to sit down and considered that the last twelve hours had been very strange, he'd gone from pariah to the sole focus of an overbearing, but seemingly harmless 'felinoid'. They had been apparently part of The Galactic Community for hundreds of years like everyone else, but had kept mostly to themselves, until now of course. Ever since Humans appeared Walking back to the sofa, he took note of her white and grey fur; she looked exactly like one of the old snow leopards of earth, all the way down to the spots and thick fluffy tail and oversized paws. Her size was something of note, easily larger than him, her ears brushed the ceiling when she stood up straight.

Her strength was also of note, she was not slim. Her arms, whilst covered in a long thick pelt, that Matt knew was also incredibly soft thanks to last night, barely hid the bulging muscles beneath. She proved she had no issue picking up and carrying him like he weighed nothing.

When he stood next to the sofa, he realised that there simply wasn't any space for him to sit on the cushions of the seat. The size of her hips took up much of the space of his rather crappy, standard issue sofa and to try and sit down would have him perched half on top of her. With a shrug, he chose instead to perch on the sofa's arm.

Ruby, however, had different ideas.

Before he could perch and start on his light breakfast, a grey furred arm and dinner plate sized hand wrapped around his sternum.

"Wait! Wait, wait, wai-" He cried out, trying to prevent his breakfast from spilling as he was dragged from the arm, and into the centre of the sofa onto the larger creature's lap. Thankfully, he hadn't spilt anything.

"That was dangerous, I could have spilled!" He complained as he attempted to disengage, but with an arm locked around his waist, he found the act impossible while holding a plate with both hands, so he reached down with one. When a clawed hand plucked a strip of bacon from his plate, his priority changed immediately.

He lost one piece but defended the others by starting into his breakfast with no further delay. The large feline sat beneath and behind him chewed the stolen bacon slowly as she held onto him carefully. It was only once he started to relax that he noticed she was purring again.

"So, we have a problem that will need to be addressed today." Ruby stated calmly whilst Matt's mouth was full. It didn't stop him from 'mm'ing as a wordless question.

"Not with your mouth full, little one. But yes, my dema- err.. Request? Yes, my request from yesterday remains quite important. My people will begin spreading out amongst the stars. They will want to meet you humans, but... like myself... will not know your... er... protocol?" A hand landed on the top of his head and a set of claws poked through his hair. She started talking again as Matt swallowed the last of his eggs and settled into having the back of his head scratched.

"We wish to make the best first impression and avoid upsetting your kind. We can compensate you and others if you agree to assist us in learning your ways. I wish to 'employ' you as a cultural guide? Would you like to come with me when I leave here?" She asked gently while still steadily scratching at him. He leaned forwards to put the plate down and was gently pulled back onto her whilst she laid back, horizontally across the sofa, taking him with her. She released her claws from his hair and instead hugged him from behind as if he were a cushion or favoured teddy.

The way he sank into her fluff, how he felt it cover his ears from behind and tickle his cheeks. It was incredibly pleasant and relaxing. He considered her words.

Did he want to just end his life here? To leave everything behind? What of his colleagues? Friends on the station? All for some random personal-space ignorant, socially inept space cats?

=== 0 ===

Half an hour later, Matt had his bags packed. Or rather; bag. Singular. He had little he needed to bring aside from a few sets of clothes and some mementos of sentiment. He had no friends on the station, he had a contact which treated him like a house plant rather than a person. His choice was made purely on the fact that his depression and apathy had been lifted all in one evening and he was petrified of it returning.

Was this a good idea? Probably not. Was it healthy? Also no. But he didn't have a good answer and he had nothing else to lose. His planet was dead, his people were scattered, and he was working a crappy job that a computer could do just to save up money to buy things for his domicile.

When Matt stepped out of his bedroom, Ruby was leaning against the front door with a foot raised against it and her arms crossed over her chest. She grinned like the cat that caught the canary.

"You're helping many of my kind, you know? Is noble."

"Let's not pretend I'm saving lives here, I'm a glorified heating mat." Matt said, stopping in front of the alien. She looked genuinely shocked, leaning down and lifting his chin with a finger.

"You are very important Matt; I am not ignorant to how you were when I met you. Alone and distant from the others? I am not blind to the lack of pictures of friends on this station in your home. The only ones you had, were in your bedroom and seem to be of family. Your journey to this apartment was one of an outcast." She pushed off the door and stepped close to him again, looking down at him with a firm expression that left Matt guessing what she might have been thinking.

"You have natural abilities and skills that somewhere else would be valuable. Here, you are out of step with your surroundings and seemingly... Left questioning your value, wrongly." She shook her head with a pitying look to her eye, yet her words were firm. She believed what she was saying.

She reached out, placed her long arms over his shoulders and pulled his back towards her. She gripped him against herself and held him there.

At first, he didn't understand what she was doing, again, her odd actions caused a jarring to his expectations. The outside world, however, was lost to him for a time, the fur of her torso muffled the air circulation humming and was replaced by the sound of her heart beating and her lungs breathing in and out steadily.

The lonely man's arms gingerly reached up and around the felinoid' s body, and he hugged her back for the first time. It was the first time he'd held someone away from Earth. It actually physically hurt his chest to apparently reconnect with someone, to consider reopening himself after protecting himself from isolation. After so long as being held at arm's length by others, he wanted to latch onto her like a lifeline.

He gripped at the fur at her back and breathed into the fluff that pressed into his face. Ruby placed one of her hands at the back of his head and stood there, she would not rush him nor prompt him to move. She was patient, she could wait for him until he was ready. It would be his choice, his freedom to do so. To her and her find, freedom was as vital as air and this human was not 'free' here on this station.

It was only a short hour later when Matt finally boarded the felinoid ship as it prepared to leave in search for more elusive humans.

They had barely been checked, the station administration seemingly rushing through Matt's paperwork. Matt had been pulled aside and been asked if he was being coerced, but in the end the administer let slip that he was glad Matt was leaving. He was too dangerous in the administrator's opinion. Matt had thought that there would be more effort in a supposed long-term resident demanding to leave, but it seemed his request to leave was received with gratitude and relief instead.

He felt like he should be betrayed, but he had to admit that he also felt relief and gratitude right back at them for being able to leave with such ease.

Whether The Galactic Community was informed of his change of location Matt didn't know, the ship was tracked and he would be met at the next station to ensure his safety in the void, but when he put his bag down and looked up, he found himself looking at a team of felinoids who, whilst were wildly different in appearance, each had a rapturous grin, one or two waved at him.

Suddenly his vision was blocked by the furred back of a snow leopard, Ruby.

Her tail flicked rapidly from one side to another, was she agitated?

"We have gained an ally. However, we must; be polite." Ruby stated clearly and definitively. She remained in front of Matt, until the group stalked away. Ruby turned back to Matt and picked up his bag with ease.

"They will need teaching but are harmless. You will need to be a teacher before we arrive at our next destination, I hope you are ready."

Matt watched as the group disappeared around a corner and the last tail trailed behind.

In all honesty, after spending multiple moths just pressing buttons on a computer, the human was ready for a new challenge.

=== 0 ===

Unfortunately, the new challenge began that evening.

The engines were probably several hundred meters away and behind many bulkheads, but the human could hear them, and Matt lay awake in his bed. It wasn't really the humming of the engines that was keeping the human awake, however.

The creeping doubt that plagued every decision in the dead of night had made itself known to him by 'midnight' aboard the felinoid ship. It was a frigate it seemed and just one of a small group of ships that travelled together.

His bedding was tangled around him as he stared up at the distant ceiling. He'd thrown his lot in with this new species while knowing precious little about them. God, why had he been so stupid?!

Was his life aboard the station been so bad that at the first offer from a complete and utter stranger of another possibility, he'd just jumped with both feet?!

He had to admit he wasn't happy aboard the station. His conscious mind agreed that he couldn't have stayed there much longer without him going crazy or doing something stupid. But no number of antidepressants would alleviate the crushing loneliness of being avoided by everyone else. Christ, they didn't even have antidepressants that were designed for humans up in the stars.

Sure, tell someone a drug's name; the materials might not even exist outside of Earth, let along share the same name.

But his subconscious continued to jab and peck at his choices. They didn't care about him. They just wanted to use him.

That's why he was given his own room alone. Alone again. He'd had one night of glorious sleep and now he couldn't pass out on his own.

Matt rubbed his face and let out a growl in frustration. He could argue the toss with himself all night but there was no way to prove that these giant bipedal cats actually had his best intentions in mind.

Till a thought occurred to him, it wasn't completely true, that there was no test.

Ruby, the snow leopard that had 'recruited' him onto the ship full of them. She had made a point to show him around the ship. She finished by introducing both his room and hers, which were near one another, almost directly neighbours.

'If you need me, day or night, my door will open for you. I will only be upset if I find out you didn't seek me out when in need.' It was the last thing she had said to him before disappearing down the corridor and away from his room. He stared after her, focusing on the swishing tail and ample rump beneath the grey and white dotted fur.

'Prove it.' His tired mind demanded now in the darkness. He'll always mistrust them if he didn't test their promises.

Without thinking, he sat up, and in naught but loose knee length nightwear, moved to his front door. It slid open without a noise and revealed low lights highlighting the corridor.

'Am I doing this?' He asked, doubting himself as he lingered in his doorway, torn between truth and familiarity.

He glanced back into his dark room. He wouldn't make any social faux par in there. He looked down the corridor, he could see her front door. He could be shunned horrifically if they didn't stand by their word...

His first step was the hardest. The other steps went by too quickly. He was lightheaded by the time he approached Ruby's door. His mind screamed not to, his subconscious promised to be good, just don't knock on the-

The door opened as if it was his own, he had no need to knock...

He stepped within, mimicking her from the day before. The room structure was no different from his own from what he could see in the gloom, despite different adornments.

"Hello? Ruby?" He whispered into the oppressive darkness barely a whisper. He took a few steps towards the bedroom, before realising what he was doing.

"I'm an idiot." He admonished himself, turning and intending to go back to his room.

A large paw on his shoulder caused him to jump and have his heart attempt to blast out of his chest.

"Don't say that please." Stated a shadow with Ruby's voice. "Are you okay?" She asked, turning him to 'face' her, another large broad paw found his other shoulder. He couldn't actually see anything, merely a silhouette of blocked light.

"Ah.. yeah, yeah, I'm... not sure why I'm here."

A low growl came from the shadow before she spoke again.

"Big changes dear Matt, freedom is imposing to those who haven't tasted it properly. You will doubt yourself, that is normal. But you chose a course and now you should commit until you know better. There is a cure for the voices this evening my Matt." She promised.

He gave a small smile into the dark, whilst he could not see her, to her it was as bright as day.

"What's the cure?"

"Come with me..." she said simply, turning but catching his hand in hers. Her digits with padded, furred, longer and thicker than his. Her hand or paw engulfed his own and marched him silently into the bedroom proper.

"Climb in, be careful." She requested as he felt for the edge of the bed and climbed aboard. Their beds were far larger and more luxurious, squishing significantly beneath him, certainly more than anything he'd enjoyed before. But when he felt Ruby climb in immediately after him, he was confused when a second set of hands from within the bed, grasped him down onto the mattress, rolled him so he was facing Ruby and a large body began to spoon him from behind.

Ruby was in front of him... Who was..?

Looking down at the thick arms that were curled around his chest and stomach, he deduced the fur to be pure black or some other similarly dark colour.

"That is Onyx, my current lover, they will help me keep the doubts away..." Said Ruby as she pressed up to his front and wrapped her own arms over both of the other occupants of the bed.

His back was pressed into devilishly soft fur, while Ruby's longer fur and chest pressed into his front. Her head rested almost touching his forehead, while he could feel warm breath gently washing over the back of his neck in time with the moving chest touching his back.

A rumbling growl and yawn came from behind his ear.

"Doubts?" a male voice asked from behind his ear.

"He has doubts hunting him. True freedom is new for him." Stated Ruby, speaking over his head as she settled.

Matt felt a rough tongue gently run up at the back of his neck once.

"It's okay... we're here. You're not alone... You are safe." rumbled the gravelly voice.

Likewise, Ruby gave a loving lick to his forehead, before rubbing her cheek over his face. First one cheek, then the other as the pair of aliens began to purr loudly, whilst Onyx nuzzled into the back of his neck. If he didn't know better, Matt would have worried about an earthquake, but now, just two larger-than-a-human cats, both purring while whispering sweet nothings and reassurances into the blighted man's ear.

Their limbs intertwined and while there was no blanket on the bed, every inch of his exposed flesh had at least some of the felinoid bodies and fur pressed against it. With the exception of his face, he wasn't exposed to the air.

Slept came surprisingly swiftly shortly after this to Matt. He rested obscenely well and woke the next morning feeling incredibly refreshed.

Getting out of bed however took several hours, not that anyone within that bed cared...

=== 0 ===

Links:

Discord / AO3 / Tip Jar

[newlabournewromantics]

did you guys know tony blair actually wrote supercut by lorde?

this is dedicated to @tonyblairwitchproject thank u for enabling me

the process of putting together a supercut, of rewriting and reimagining an (artificially) positive version of a particular storyline, is eerily similar to what tony blair does in every aspect of his life. this is especially noticeable when it comes to his relationship with gordon though — he rarely goes into detail as to just how ugly their interactions were, and his public statements about why they grew apart are always imbued with soulless language about “professional” and “political” disagreements, rather than any honesty about the deep personal betrayal that was actually going on. plus, whenever tony does express any sense of anguish over the breakdown of the relationship, he’s always incredibly quick to defend his own behaviour (denying granita even happened… what the hell), erasing any responsibility he might bear. he is LITERALLY creating and playing a supercut, one which only has any traction in his own head.

journalists have written about new labour in 1997 being drenched in a certain magic, offering the public something to believe in. “gave” is past tense though, as the tbgb relationship began to deteriorate just months after getting into government, and newlab’s popularity would only dwindle as the years went on.

remember that one clip in the gq alastair campbell interview where tony refused to say he didn’t dream about gordon? yeah i remember it too, isn’t that funny!

two things to say here. one, tony can’t reach for gordon because they are not on speaking terms like whatsoever not even remotely. two, i truly think that tony has repeated his own version of events concerning gordon, both in his head and in public, so many times that he’s come to view them as reality — even if tony did interact with gordon properly, he would only be able to see the version of gordon that he’s created.

1994-2005 (ish), they wanted to reconcile and ease the tensions, but external pressures (teams around them, pressures of the jobs, emotional blockages etc) prevented them from truly fixing anything.

Tthese lyrics give me the impression that the speaker would twist themselves into any shape, fashion themselves into any persona, just to hold the attention of the person these lines are directed at. Very much reminds me of accounts re the 1994 leadership discussions, where it’s said that tony was promising gordon anything and everything to get him to swing behind him, then making similarly wild promises about succession later in government just to keep gordon playing the game. Also, it reminds me of that absolutely fucking awful (positive) rawnsley quote that goes something like “tony would cajole, plead, argue, rail against gordon”, just to get him to talk to him.

in my head, this section relates to his immediate post-pmship period, where he’s taking on international roles left and right to try and recreate the pure magic of newlab (and ultimately failing! lets’s not be dishonest here).

THIS IS THE MOST TONY BLAIR SET OF LINES IN EXISTENCE!!! PAY ATTENTION HERE!!!!!!!

first line relates to the nonsense (very sensible accurate analysis) i was spinning about tony rewriting his and gordon’s history, erasing his own culpability and capacity for TREACHERY! the lines about calling… such an obvious parallel with the infamous three hour phone calls, the “endless circular conversations”, the screaming fits down the telephone line…….

another dreaming reference? more likely than you’d think

this outro, although repeating lines i have already covered is actually very important to cover separately. the way that it just repeats itself, over and over and over and over, until the song finishes is actually incredibly aligned to tony’s mentality when it comes to tbgb. as i said earlier, i truly think that tony has repeated his own narrative regarding the way that he treated gordon — and his responsibility for how their relationship played out — enough times to view it as reality. he is insane and i understand him like nobody else.