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theastralsage · 6 days ago

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Folded Hands

❤︎ tags and content: strip poker, friends to lovers, emotional sex, soft dom caleb, possessive, praise kink, table sex, first times, caleb x f!reader ❤︎ author note: reuploaded 🔞NSFW content - Minors DNI 🔞 Dividers: @/omi.resources ©2025 theastralsage do not repost, copy, translate, or modify

It starts with a bottle of wine and an innocent game of poker—just a quiet night on Skyhaven, something light to pass the time between missions and memories. But when the clothes begin to come off, the stakes rise higher than either of you planned.

For Caleb, restraint has always been second nature: in battle, in command, even in love. But when he sees you again—sitting before him, laughter on your lips and old longing in your eyes—he learns what it means to fold.

You don’t warn him that you’re coming.

You know his schedule by now—know the window when patrol shifts ease and the briefing rooms go quiet, when he might have a sliver of time to breathe without a headset pressed to his ear or someone barking his title down a comm line. It’s selfish, maybe, showing up unannounced, but something about Skyhaven’s artificial skyline and the faint hum of the platform beneath your boots feels too sterile without him.

You pass two levels of clearance before reaching his wing. The security personnel stationed outside glance at you but don’t question a thing—they know your face, probably know your name too. Caleb’s name gets you into places most people never dream of, and the thought settles strangely in your chest.

You pause outside his door, hand hovering near the chime for a beat longer than you mean to. Then, with a quiet breath, you press it.

The door slides open almost immediately, like he was already on the other side.

He doesn’t speak at first—just stands there in the entryway, jacket sleeves rolled to his elbows, dog tags peeking from beneath the collar of his half-buttoned shirt, hair still damp from a recent shower. There’s a moment of silence, but it isn’t awkward. If anything, it stretches soft and golden between you like the sun lingering just a little longer on the horizon.

Finally, his voice breaks it. “Pipsqueak. You came.”

You smile, tucking your hands into your jacket pockets. “I figured you might need someone to make sure you were still eating real food and not surviving off nutrient packs again.”

The corner of his mouth lifts. “Guilty as charged.”

You expect him to step aside, to usher you in like he always does, but instead he studies you for a second longer—eyes flicking briefly down your frame, as if double-checking you’re really there and not some illusion conjured by exhaustion or hope. Then he steps back, wordlessly holding the door open.

The moment you cross the threshold, the quiet hum of Skyhaven gives way to something softer—his space is dim, cozy, nothing like the sterile exterior of the station. A warm light glows from a small lamp near the couch, casting lazy shadows across the room. There’s a pot simmering somewhere beyond the partition, faintly spicy and comforting. And the faintest trace of your favorite scent lingers in the air—subtle, but unmistakable.

“Been working late?” you ask, shrugging off your jacket and draping it over the back of his chair.

“Always,” he says, closing the door behind you. “But… I’m glad you’re here.”

You glance toward the source of the smell, eyes flicking toward the kitchen. “You cooking?”

He nods, sheepish. “Trying to, anyway. Got roped into making a proper meal tonight. I may or may not have bribed someone on the logistics team for decent ingredients.”

You raise a brow, mock seriousness. “You bribed someone for dinner?”

“Only a little,” he says, lifting one hand in mock surrender. “I didn’t know you were coming, but there’s enough for two. Stay?”

You don’t even have to think about it. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

He doesn’t move right away. Just watches you for a moment longer, the faintest crease between his brows, like he’s still calibrating the reality of you standing in his space. Then something eases in him—shoulders relaxing, expression softening—and he gestures toward the small dining nook by the window.

“I’ll plate up,” he says. “Make yourself at home.”

And just like that, you’re back in orbit around him again, the two of you drawn together in quiet gravity, as if no time has passed at all.

Dinner is quieter than you expected, but not in a bad way. Caleb sets the table with military precision—two bowls of something simmered and savory, still steaming from the pot, a bottle of wine between you, half-full glasses catching the soft light like blood-red glass. You’re close enough to see the fine scar just under his jaw when he leans forward, but far enough that you still feel the distance he keeps around most people.

Except you’re not most people.

He waits until you’ve eaten a few bites before speaking, and when he does, his voice is softer than usual.

“So,” he says, watching you over the rim of his glass, “how’ve you been holding up?”

You shrug, rolling your shoulders as if it’ll shake off the weight of everything. “Same as always. Working, reporting, picking up intel where I can. Got clipped by a rogue Wanderer last week, but it wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle.”

His jaw tightens just slightly. You catch it even if he thinks you won’t. “You shouldn’t be dealing with that alone.”

You offer a small smile, lifting your glass to your lips. “I wasn’t alone. Zayne had my back. We made it out clean.”

He’s quiet for a moment, eyes dropping to his plate. When he speaks again, it’s low, almost like he’s talking more to himself than you. “I hate that you’re still in the middle of all that.”

You tilt your head. “You think I should be locked away in here with you?”

He looks up sharply, but there’s no bite to your words—just a trace of amusement, tempered with something softer.

“I think,” he says after a pause, “that I’d sleep better if I knew you were safe.”

You don’t answer right away. The silence stretches, not uncomfortable, but full—like a breath you’re both holding, unsure when to let it go.

Eventually, you break it with a quiet laugh. “God, this wine is strong.”

He glances toward your glass, brow lifted. “Already feeling it?”

“Maybe a little,” you admit, nudging your plate away. “But in a good way. I think I needed this.”

There’s a flicker of something in his expression. You lean back in your chair, swirling the last of your wine lazily, and glance toward the side table where the deck of cards sits, half-hidden under a data tablet.

“Hey,” you say, catching his gaze, “still keep a deck around?”

His eyes flick toward the cards, then back to you. “Always.”

“Good.” You smirk, setting your glass down. “You up for a game of poker?”

He leans back, arms folding across his chest, that familiar amused glint in his eyes returning. “You’re tipsy.”

“Which means I’m just reckless enough to win,” you shoot back, giving him a mock-challenging look. “Unless you’re scared I’ll beat you again.”

He huffs a quiet laugh, already reaching for the deck. “You cheated last time.”

“Did not.”

“You stacked the deck when I blinked.”

“Prove it.”

He stands, pulling the cards free with a flick of his wrist, and walks slowly back toward the table. “You’re on, then. But I’m warning you... I play for keeps.”

You look up at him, heartbeat catching just a little at the way the warm light slides over the edge of his jaw, the faint smirk at the corner of his mouth.

“That so?” you murmur, voice soft with challenge. “Guess we’ll see what you’re willing to bet.”

And just like that, the room feels warmer. Not just from the wine. Not just from the way his eyes linger on you a second too long. But from something simmering beneath the surface—just waiting for one of you to fold.

The cards move fluidly between Caleb’s fingers, shuffling in smooth, practiced motions, each flick of the deck precise in a way that feels entirely him—controlled, deliberate, like even this moment of downtime is something he needs to master. He sits across from you now, long legs stretched under the table, sleeves pushed to his elbows, the fitted line of his jacket hugging his frame like it was made for him. There’s a slight crease between his brows as he cuts the deck, but it softens the moment he glances up and catches your gaze, a spark of amusement flickering there.

You lean into your hand, the curve of your mouth lazy. “You gonna deal, or just admire the cards all night?”

His gaze lingers on you, eyes half-lidded, voice low. “Thought I was admiring something else.”

Your stomach tightens, not because of the wine—but because of that voice, that look, and the way he says it like he means every word.

He starts to deal, and the first few rounds pass easily—banter traded, hands won and lost. You bluff; he calls it. He folds; you grin. There’s tension simmering under the surface now, subtle but growing with each glance, each casual brush of fingers on the table or leg beneath it. The room is too warm. Or maybe it's just him.

“So,” Caleb says, tapping his cards against the table, “what exactly are we playing for?”

You shrug, watching the way the light catches in his hair, casting faint gold at his temples. “Didn’t set terms.”

He hums, as if weighing options. “We could make this interesting.”

You arch a brow. “Interesting how?”

He lifts his glass for a slow sip, gaze unwavering. “Loser of each hand removes something.”

There’s a quiet beat—just a moment where the air stills and your breath stalls—but then you set your wine down, fingers brushing your cheek as you pretend to think.

“You’re serious?”

He shrugs one shoulder. “Only if you are.”

You meet his eyes, steady. “Alright, Colonel. But you’re going to regret this.”

He grins, all confidence and something darker beneath it. “Can’t wait.”

The cards are dealt. You lose the next round, of course—whether by fate or the fact that your mind is no longer entirely on the game. With an exaggerated sigh, you slide your sweater off your shoulders and toss it over the arm of the couch behind you. You don’t look at him, not directly, but you feel his eyes track the movement like a predator watching the first sign of weakness.

The round after that, he folds way too early.

You tilt your head, not bothering to hide your smirk. “Really? You’re giving up that easy?”

“Maybe I just wanted to even the field,” he says, and this time, he unzips his jacket.

He peels it off in one slow, smooth motion, the fabric whispering over his skin as he drapes it over the back of his chair. The dark shirt beneath fits him too well—clinging to the curve of his shoulders, the line of his arms, like a second skin. You swallow a little too quietly.

The game continues, barely. Small losses, smaller victories. Neither of you’s really trying it seems. Your bracelet ends up on the table. His socks go next. It’s almost ridiculous, but neither of you laughs.

It’s your deal. You flick a card onto the table with the sort of flair only three glasses of wine can inspire. “Call it.”

Caleb leans forward, folding his arms against the table, his voice quieter now. “Don’t tell me you’re throwing this one too.”

You shrug, feigning innocence. “Who says I’m not just bad at poker?”

He tilts his head, studying you with a gaze that sees straight through your act. “You forget I grew up with you. I know when you’re pretending.”

You hold eye contact, the challenge clear, but so is the invitation. “Your turn.”

He looks at his cards, then at you. There’s a slow exhale, almost like he’s bracing for something—and then he lays them down.

A flush. A clear win. But he doesn’t smile.

“I had a choice,” he says softly. “And I’d rather lose to you.”

Then—without waiting—he reaches for the hem of his shirt.

This time, the motion isn’t quick. There’s no humor in it, no shrug. Just slow, deliberate movement as he drags the fabric up his torso, revealing inch by inch the toned expanse of his chest—cut with lean muscle, marked by faint scars, the synthetic gleam of his right shoulder catching faint light. His eyes don’t leave yours. If he’s giving you a show, it’s intentional. If he’s waiting to see how you’ll react—he’s watching closely.

The shirt hits the floor shortly after. And when the silence stretches, heavy and filled with a different kind of charge now. Caleb doesn’t reach for more wine. He just breathes slow and deep, bare and still, like the next move is yours to make.

You should have folded.

The thought hits you a moment too late—right as Caleb places his hand down on the table with quiet finality, his cards a clean, easy win. He doesn’t gloat. He doesn’t need to. The way he looks at you, eyes steady and dark with quiet heat, is far more effective than any smirk or tease.

The silence that follows stretches, weighted and slow, and you feel it settle over your skin like the hum of something electric waiting to arc.

There’s no way out. You’ve lost the round. You take a breath, steadying your hand as you reach down to the hem of your shirt, feeling the faintest tremble in your fingertips—not from nerves, not exactly, but from the awareness that this moment has long since stopped being about poker. With careful fingers, you lift the shirt over your head and pull it free, the air cool against your skin as your bare shoulders meet the open room. You’re still in your bra, modest and simple, but under his gaze, it might as well be nothing at all.

You place the shirt beside your jacket with what you hope is casual ease, though you can feel your heartbeat stuttering just beneath your ribs. When you glance up, Caleb is watching you, unmoving, his expression unreadable—but the tension in his jaw, the way his gaze lingers, betrays him.

You clear your throat softly, needing something—anything—to cut through the moment.

“I, um… I need more wine,” you say, pushing up from your seat before he can respond.

You cross the room with too much purpose, your steps just a little too quick, the air against your skin feeling too sharp now, too exposed. Your fingers reach for the bottle, more for something to do than for any real need to drink. You’re not even sure if you meant to escape the moment, or if part of you just wanted to feel the cool glass in your hands before the warmth burning in your chest gets too much to hold.

But before you can pour, you hear the quiet scrape of a chair behind you, the soft sound of his footsteps—slow, deliberate—drawing closer.

You don’t turn. You don’t have to.

His presence fills the space behind you like a shadow stretching in the light—close enough that you can feel the heat of him ghosting along your back, but still not touching, not yet.

“You sure you need more wine?” he asks, voice low, with just the barest hint of gravel at the edges.

Your fingers pause on the neck of the bottle. “I’m just... cooling off,” you murmur, trying to sound breezy, unaffected, though your voice is already tighter than you’d like.

There’s a beat of silence, and then he hums—not skeptical, exactly, but amused in a way that makes your skin prickle with awareness.

“That why you’re trembling?”

The words land too softly to be accusatory, but they knock the breath from you all the same. You close your eyes, just for a moment, and instantly regret it—because now every inch of him feels closer, like the air has folded in around you, and you’re standing in the center of a storm that’s just barely restrained.

You turn your head slightly, just enough to look at him over your shoulder, and you find him already watching you—his gaze pinned to yours like it’s holding you in place.

“I thought you said you play to win,” you manage, your voice low, barely more than a breath.

There’s something in his eyes now, something deeper—desire, yes, but also something rawer beneath it, something like vulnerability wrapped in steel. He lets his gaze drop, tracing the line of your jaw, the curve of your lips, then lower, lingering at the bare skin of your shoulder before meeting your eyes again.

“Maybe I’m tired of pretending I don’t want to lose,” he says softly, and there’s no teasing left in him now—just honesty, quiet and bare and thick with everything neither of you has said aloud.

You don’t speak. You don’t have to. Because then his hand lifts, slow and careful, and his fingers brush the side of your arm with a touch so light it barely registers as contact—just a whisper of skin against skin, a question asked without words.

You don’t pull away. And in that silence—warm, charged, breathless—the line you’ve both been toeing begins to blur, then fade entirely.

Caleb’s fingers linger at your arm, unmoving for a breath, and then they trail upward—slow and deliberate—sliding over the curve of your shoulder and up along your neck, his touch featherlight but sure. He’s watching you closely, as if waiting for hesitation, for a sign that you’ll step back.

But you don’t.

Your breath catches as his hand finds the edge of your jaw, thumb brushing just below your cheekbone, his palm warm and steady against your skin. And still, he waits—so close now you can feel his breath on your lips, but he doesn’t move that final inch until you do.

You lean into him, just barely, and that’s all it takes.

He closes the distance like gravity finally winning—no pretense, no gentleness, just years of wanting poured into the kiss as his mouth crashes into yours with an intensity that steals the air from your lungs.

It’s not soft. It’s not polite. It’s a question, a claim, a thousand unsaid things slammed into one desperate kiss. His hand tilts your jaw up, deepening the angle, and you meet him with just as much urgency, fingers digging in the bare line of muscle at his side, pulling him closer, like you’re afraid he’ll disappear if you don’t hold onto him. His other hand braces at your waist, grounding both of you as your bodies come flush, heat meeting heat with nothing left between but breath and skin.

You sigh into his mouth—soft, shaky—and he swallows the sound like it’s the only thing he’s needed since he came back from the dead. You can feel it in the way he kisses you: the hunger, yes, but also the grief, the guilt, the impossible devotion he’s been carrying like armor. His mouth moves with desperate precision, lips parting yours like he’s memorizing every second of this in case it gets torn away again. When you pull back for air, just barely, his forehead rests against yours, breath ragged, eyes fluttering shut like the moment is too much to hold.

“Tell me this is real,” he whispers, voice rough, thick with something cracked open and raw.

You nod, your fingers curling against the base of his spine. “It’s real.”

And then he kisses you again.

The second kiss is deeper, hungrier—less careful now, as if something inside him has cracked open and there’s no point in trying to put it back. Caleb’s hands slide down your back with firm, reverent pressure, like he’s relearning the shape of you by touch alone, his grip tightening when you arch into him.

Then—without a word—he pulls you back toward the table. With one swift motion, he sends the deck of cards, the half-empty wine glasses, everything scattering to the floor with a crash that makes your heart leap. The sound doesn’t faze him. If anything, it makes his breath deepen.

He looks at you, chest rising and falling with barely leashed control, his hands already sliding down to your hips, guiding you back until your thighs press against the table’s edge.

“I’ve been patient,” he says, voice hoarse and low, each word like gravel dragged across silk. “For years, I waited… I held back… but not anymore.”

You don’t speak—you can’t. Because the way he’s looking at you, like you’re the only thing left in the universe that matters, steals every coherent thought from your mind.

He turns you with careful insistence, hands firm but reverent as he guides your body to face the table. You grip the edge, breath catching, the cold surface against your palms a stark contrast to the heat that radiates from him behind you.

When his hands return, they’re rougher now—claiming. He drags them slowly over your sides, then up your back, the tips of his fingers teasing the band of your bra. He bends down, pressing a kiss to your shoulder, then another, slower, teeth grazing the skin just enough to make you gasp.

“You have no idea how many times I dreamed of this,” he murmurs, lips brushing your ear as one hand slides around your waist, the other flattening over the small of your back. “Of you, right here—mine.”

The last word is a growl.

He presses against you, chest to your back, hips flush to yours, and you feel how hard he is already, the heat of it grinding just enough to make you whimper. His metal arm braces against the table beside yours—cold steel humming with quiet energy—and when you shift your hips back into him, he curses under his breath.

“That’s it,” he growls, one hand sliding between your thighs, forcing them to part. “Keep doing that and I won’t last.”

He dips his head again, this time kissing down your spine, slow and reverent, but each kiss feels like a brand—like he’s marking you one breath at a time. His hands return to your hips, and when he straightens, you feel the weight of his stare on your back like a spotlight.

“You don’t get to hide from me anymore,” he says, hands gripping your waist like you might vanish if he lets go. “You’re mine now. Say it.”

You bite your lip, breath ragged. “I’m yours.”

Your breath catches when you feel Caleb’s fingers slide into the waistband of your pants, his touch both reverent and possessive, and though his movements are deliberate, there’s no mistaking the weight behind them—he’s not teasing anymore; he’s unraveling, and he’s going to take you with him.

He leans in close, his mouth grazing the shell of your ear as he murmurs, “Don’t move,” and the way he says it, low and threaded with rough restraint, leaves no room for disobedience, only heat curling low and fast through your core.

You brace your hands against the table as he begins to tug your pants down your hips, dragging the fabric with agonizing slowness, like every inch he reveals is something sacred, something he’s waited too long to see again. His knuckles brush your thighs, his breath warm against the back of your neck, and when your pants pool around your ankles, he lets out a quiet, nearly broken groan that vibrates straight through you.

It’s your panties he lingers on.

His fingers trace the waistband, sliding along your skin like he’s memorizing you by feel alone, and then, without warning, he curls his fist into the lace and tears it clean in one savage motion—just a sharp, decisive snap, and then nothing but cool air on bare skin and the hot, heavy sound of his breathing behind you.

“I’m not waiting anymore,” he says, almost like a confession, and the ruined fabric is discarded without care as his hands return to your hips, steadying you, grounding you, claiming you all over again.

His touch drifts lower, smoothing over the curve of your ass, then up the small of your back, the contact so firm and slow that it borders on worship, his thumb brushing along the dip of your spine like it belongs there. He leans down, lips pressing against your shoulder, trailing heat with every kiss as he works his way downward, pausing only to let his teeth graze lightly against your skin, the quiet sound of your gasp spurring him on.

“You have no idea,” he whispers, voice hoarse with the weight of everything he’s been holding back, “how many times I dreamed of this—of you, bent over in front of me, mine to touch, mine to take.”

The sound of his belt unfastening fills the silence like a drumbeat, followed by the low scrape of a zipper and the shuffle of clothing pushed hastily down his thighs, and then he’s behind you again, thick and hot and hard, the head of his cock sliding through your folds, coating himself in the slick evidence of how ready you are for him.

He doesn’t press in—not yet.

One hand anchors you by the hip, the other coasting along your front, splaying across your belly before drifting downward, parting your thighs further until you’re open for him, exposed and trembling beneath his touch.

“I thought I’d lost you forever,” he murmurs, his voice cracking on the edge of a growl as he guides himself to your entrance, teasing the sensitive skin with slow, shallow strokes. “Thought I’d never get to fuck you like I always wanted.”

When he finally pushes in, he does it in one slow, brutal thrust, the force of it knocking the breath from your lungs as your body stretches to take him, your hands clutching at the edge of the table for dear life. He doesn’t move right away—just stays buried inside you, fully sheathed, his hands tight on your waist as if he’s holding himself back from coming right then and there.

“Fuck,” he groans, low and guttural, his mouth pressed against your shoulder blade. “You feel like heaven.”

And then he begins to move.

Each thrust is hard and deep, perfectly paced to drive you wild, his hips slamming into yours with a rhythm that’s all hunger and dominance and years of frustration finally, finally, breaking loose. The table creaks beneath you, your legs spread wide, the sound of skin against skin echoing through the room with every punishing snap of his hips.

His hand slides up your back, pressing between your shoulder blades and urging you further down against the table, and when your cheek hits the cool surface, your breath escapes you in a soft, desperate moan.

“You were made for this,” he growls, his mouth near your ear, the heat of his voice sinking into your skin like a brand. “For me. This body, this sound—mine.”

You manage his name on a broken gasp, your voice shaking, your body already on the verge of losing itself entirely as he continues to thrust into you, each movement rougher, deeper, more desperate than the last.

His hand slides between your thighs again, this time to circle your clit with unrelenting pressure, the pads of his fingers slick and confident, and when you cry out, he doesn’t stop—he doubles down, whispering, “Come for me. Let me feel you fall apart.”

And gods, you do.

The orgasm crashes into you like a storm, seizing you from the inside out, your entire body tensing, walls clenching around him as pleasure tears through your spine and explodes behind your eyes. You sob his name, breathless and undone, and he holds you through it, his hand on your hip tightening, the rhythm of his thrusts faltering as he loses himself in the feel of you shattering around him.

“Ah—fuck—gonna come inside you,” he groans, every muscle in his body going taut as he drives into you one last time and stills, buried deep, spilling into you with a guttural moan that’s as much pain as it is relief. His chest presses flush to your back, arms wrapping around your waist like he’s anchoring himself there, like he can’t bear the thought of letting go.

For a long moment, neither of you moves. The air is thick with heat, your bodies tangled, breath syncing in a slow, uneven rhythm that speaks more than either of you could right now.

He doesn’t say anything, but the way he holds you, the way his lips brush the side of your neck in a kiss so soft it almost breaks you, says everything he can’t.

The silence that follows is heavy. It’s the kind of quiet that settles deep into your bones, warm and full, like the world has finally stopped spinning long enough to let you catch your breath. Caleb doesn’t move for a long moment, his chest still pressed against your back, his arms wrapped around your waist like he’s anchoring you to the earth itself. His breath ghosts over your shoulder in slow, unsteady exhales, his body still trembling faintly against yours as the aftershocks roll through both of you.

Then, with a gentle murmur—your name spoken like a vow—he presses a kiss to the back of your neck and pulls out of you slowly, carefully, as though he’s afraid he might hurt you if he moves too fast. He catches your waist as you sway slightly, already reaching for you before you even realize you need the support.

“Easy,” he says, voice low and still rough at the edges, but his hands are impossibly gentle. “I’ve got you.”

And you believe him. You always have.

He helps you straighten, one arm still firmly around your middle as the other brushes a loose strand of hair from your face. When you glance up, your eyes meet his, and for the first time tonight, you see all of him—not just the soldier or the survivor, not the boy who left or the man who came back, but Caleb, who looks at you like you’re the one thing that kept him tethered while the rest of his world burned.

Without a word, he leans in and kisses your temple, slow and soft, before guiding you gently toward the bed in the corner of the room. The lights dim as you pass—probably movement-commanded, but it feels like the room itself is exhaling.

“Stay,” you murmur, already missing the warmth of his body as he helps you sit at the edge of the bed.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he says immediately, brushing his thumb over your thigh as if to reassure himself more than you. “Just getting something.”

He returns a moment later with a warm, damp cloth and a fresh towel, kneeling in front of you like you’re something precious, like tending to you is the most natural thing in the world.

Caleb’s silent as he cleans you—tender, focused, his touch slow and steady as he wipes between your thighs, along the insides of your legs, his hand cupping the back of your calf as he works. There’s nothing hurried or clinical in his movements; everything about the way he touches you now speaks of devotion, of reverence, like this is part of the ritual. Like this is sacred, too.

“You okay?” he asks quietly, eyes flicking up to meet yours as he dabs the cloth gently between your legs.

Your voice is small, but sure. “Better than okay.”

A soft smile tugs at his lips, and he presses another kiss—this time to your knee—before setting the cloth aside and wrapping the towel gently around your hips. He helps you ease back into bed, pulling the blankets up over your shoulders, and then, finally, finally, he slips in beside you, the mattress dipping under his weight as his arms curl around your body and bring you close again.

You rest your head against his bare chest, listening to the slow, rhythmic thud of his heart as his hand drifts through your hair in lazy strokes, his other arm banded around your waist, holding you like you’re the last thing worth protecting in the universe.

“I missed you,” he says after a while, voice barely more than a breath. “Just—” his hand squeezes gently at your waist “— you. Everything about you.”

You tilt your head, fingers brushing lightly over the scar near his ribs. “You always had me. Even when you weren’t here.”

He doesn’t answer with words—just a long exhale, a kiss pressed to your forehead, and the way he holds you tighter like he’s finally allowing himself to believe it.

And in the quiet hum of Skyhaven, tangled in Caleb’s arms, with nothing between you but skin and truth, you feel more safe, more known, more his, than you ever have before.

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justforbooks · 3 days ago

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Pentagon’s Pizza Index has accurately predicted 21 global crises since 1983

As tensions rise in the Middle East, a curious, crowd-driven theory known as the “Pentagon Pizza Index” has caught fire online.

On June 12 and 13, users on X (formerly Twitter) reported a sudden spike in pizza deliveries near the Pentagon and Department of Defense in Washington, D.C., sparking speculation that the United States may be quietly entering crisis mode behind closed doors.

The timing? Just hours before Israel reportedly struck targets in Iran in response to Tehran’s earlier drone and missile attacks. And once again, pizza orders were booming.

Cold war roots of the pizza theory. What began as a Soviet spy trick is now a digital-age meme

The idea isn’t new. During the Cold War, Soviet operatives observed pizza delivery activity in Washington, believing it signalled crisis preparation inside U.S. intelligence circles. They coined it “Pizzint” — short for pizza intelligence.

This tactic entered public lore on 1 August 1990, when Frank Meeks, a Domino’s franchisee in Washington, noticed a sudden surge in deliveries to CIA buildings. The next day, Iraq invaded Kuwait. Meeks later told the Los Angeles Times he saw a similar pattern in December 1998 during the impeachment hearings of President Bill Clinton.

As former CNN Pentagon correspondent Wolf Blitzer once joked in 1990, “Bottom line for journalists: Always monitor the pizzas.”

WWIII warning: What is the Pentagon Pizza Index today? A meme, an OSINT tool, or a symptom of digital-age paranoia?

The modern Pentagon Pizza Index is tracked through open-source intelligence (OSINT) tools. These include Google Maps, which shows real-time restaurant activity, and social media observations. Pages like @PenPizzaReport on X have dedicated themselves to watching for abnormal patterns.

On 1 June 2025, the account posted, “With less than an hour to go before closing time, the Domino’s closest to the Pentagon is experiencing unusually high footfall.”

A few hours later, reports emerged of a fresh escalation between Israel and Iran. For believers in the theory, it was yet another sign that something bigger was underway.

The April 2024 pizza spike. A recent example that reignited interest

The most notable recent instance occurred on 13 April 2024, the night Iran launched a massive drone and missile strike against Israel. That same evening, screenshots from delivery platforms showed pizzerias around the Pentagon, White House, and Department of Defense tagged as “busier than usual.”

Multiple Papa John’s and Domino’s branches reported increased orders. The correlation prompted viral memes and renewed interest in the theory.

According to Euro News, a user on X posted on 13 June 2025, “The Pentagon Pizza Index is hiking.”

Inside the logic: Why pizza? Food, fatigue and national security

The concept is deceptively simple. When military staff face a national emergency, they work longer shifts and can’t leave their posts. They need quick, filling food — and pizza fits the bill.

Studies in behavioural psychology show that under stress, people prefer calorie-dense, familiar comfort foods. During high-alert operations, officials may work 16–20 hour days. That creates a visible consumption spike that outsiders can track.

And because platforms like Google and Uber Eats share real-time data on restaurant activity, amateur analysts can monitor these patterns — no hacking required.

World War III: Pizza as a proxy for preparedness. It’s not perfect, but it’s consistent

The Pentagon Pizza Index isn’t a foolproof system. It could easily be triggered by something mundane: a long staff meeting, a software glitch, or a nearby college football game.

That’s why modern OSINT analysts often cross-reference pizza spikes with other indicators — like unusual aircraft movements, ride-hailing activity, or power usage near government buildings. When multiple signs align, it suggests more than coincidence.

As a senior analyst put it: “You can’t bank a war call on a pizza. But if the Pentagon’s burning the midnight oil and feeding everyone, it’s worth a second look.”

Official silence, public curiosity. What the US government says — and doesn’t say

Despite the chatter online, the US government has made no mention of pizza deliveries as indicators of crisis.

Responding to speculation about American involvement in Israel’s airstrikes on Iran, Republican Senator Marco Rubio said:

“We are not involved in strikes against Iran, and our top priority is protecting American forces in the region. Israel advised us that they believe this action was necessary for its self-defence.”

Still, the Pentagon’s silence on the pizza theory hasn’t stopped internet users from speculating.

Humour meets anxiety in the age of digital vigilance

In an age where open-source tools let ordinary people track the movement of jets, ships, and even pizzas, the Pentagon Pizza Index sits at the bizarre intersection of humour and fear. It turns snack food into a warning system.

It’s also a reminder: not all intelligence requires a badge. Sometimes, the clue might be just down the road — in a Domino’s queue.

Whether you see it as absurd or insightful, one thing is clear: when the pizzas fly, people pay attention.

Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at Just for Books…?

#just for books #Pentagon Pizza Index

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idliketobeatree · 5 months ago

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Here is one of the best friends he's made in what seems like forever; she's so open and sweet, beautiful and brilliant. It was inevitable, he thinks, that Niko Sasaki would effortlessly endear herself to Charles like a lost younger sister.

(And that is another story entirely, but not one for Edwin to tell.)

He finds it contradistinctive, Niko Sasaki becoming a new source and the easiest target of Charles' spontaneous, affectionate smiles — different than watching him stumble around Crystal. It's well-nigh surprising just how secure Edwin feels, observing their budding friendship, the phantom echo of it spreading around his chest like a slow warmth from a hearth. He harbours no jealousy or hurt at the frequency with which their more private conversations take place. He does not mind the way Niko wraps her hand around Charles' arm as they walk, not one bit, when his best friend's sole attention is focused on her excited chatter. He can thoroughly relate, after all.

As a matter of fact, Edwin suspects that the only thing he'll have to worry about is stifling an inelegant snort when they're all descending a hill in the middle of a legwork-heavy case and Charles picks Niko up for an impromptu piggyback ride.

"No no no no, put me down!", her voice carries over their heads, but Niko's shrieking protest dies in her throat just as quickly as it came to life, turning into an appreciative whistle at the view. In front of them, Crystal turns on her heel and raises her eyebrows in amusement.

"You're that desperate to be the last at home?"

"Please, we'll be there faster than you lot. Right, Niko?" Charles, ever the multitasker, uses his shrug to adjust the grip on Niko's swaying legs. "Edwin?"

He dares to look in their direction, dreading... precisely double the amount of puppy eyes sent his way. His lips twitch in a helpless smile.

"I must agree. The Charles Express is quite a commendable machine. I would not underestimate it, Crystal."

Charles barks out a laugh. Whatever expression Niko must've had on her face breaks through Crystal's composure; she, too, cracks up, a spring in her step as she turns to walk forward again.

"Can barely feel her, can't I? Lighter than my backpack," Charles says, matter-of-factly.

"It's not a race."

"It could be a race."

"I'm not going to race you down the hill in these platforms, be serious—"

"That doesn't sound like a definite no," Niko pipes in.

"Take them off, then," offers Charles.

Edwin glances up at the orange sun set against the milky autumn sky, to his left; the brightest thing on the horizon. He hears her gasps of delight at Charles' cheeky step through the trunk in their way. Something inside him has been shifting and smoothing out for quite a while. Edwin doesn't know how long it will last or what the destination will be. All he knows is that the slope hits his feet once or twice at most.

One afternoon she invites them to watch Scooby Doo together. It's the first time they've gathered as a trio, and Edwin immediately understands why this hasn't happened before when Niko unlocks the door to her room. The bed they usually end up on is narrow to say the least, why hadn't he noticed that before, but it seems too late to make a flimsy excuse and eloign himself from the picture. They were long overdue.

Charles, who looks about ready to turn into an orb of post-case tension, has no qualms about using the threshold for a shimmering quick wardrobe change. He appears right at home, comfortable, downright domestic, in socks, trousers and a polo shirt, sliding his suspenders down and trailing after Niko who heads for the coat hanger.

What Edwin doesn't expect, apart from the rather tight fit for three people - or rather two ghost boys and one living girl - is Niko giving him a knowing look over Charles' head as he unceremoniously flops down on the bed. His groan, which prompts Niko to pat him sympathetically on said head, makes Edwin snap his open mouth shut, suddenly flustered.

He waits politely, pulling down his knitted vest and admiring the decorative sequins sewn onto a flowery cushion, deliberately not looking at the long line of Charles sprawled on the neatly tucked in duvet. He half-listens to Niko as she chatters on, something about needing to show them the more modern rendition of their Mystery Inc. detectives, grabbing her laptop from the desk and sitting down in the very middle, hip-checking Charles' side. Charles sluggishly lifts himself and rolls onto his back, pushing himself up, shoulders halfway up the headboard, neck supported by a plush pillow, hands folded across his chest and long, long legs crossed at the ankles. He must have done this several times now, Edwin's lungs remind him before tightening into knots. The mattress barely dips when he gingerly sits down and settles, too. His back remains straight, and he is barely brushing her arm when she announces out of the blue, "I forgot my snacks. Give me a moment," climbing off the bed and leaving them in — on Edwin's side — suddenly charged, tense silence.

It feels different, of course it does, and Edwin feels guilty that his carefully tucked away thoughts are knocking on the doors of his consciousness when they're in Niko's room, for God's sake. Edwin tries to subtly move away from the overwhelmingly horizontal line of Charles' body. Right now, sitting cross-legged, Edwin's knees are barely touching him, and he bumps his knee against Charles' arm twice before stilling. He doesn't want to hunch down; never again. He stays put.

The sensation of Charles' bony elbow is like the flash of a sharp smile. The room fills with a low hum, something musical and... campy that Niko must have shown Charles on one of those afternoons. With his eyes closed, Edwin compartmentalises the points of sharp heat.

Much, much later, Charles jogs up to the beach where Niko and Edwin are watching the starfish. "What're you doing?", he asks curiously, just when Edwin finishes talking about their lack of a centralised brain.

He hears the shift in Charles' posture more than his opening to say something mouth, and a second of hesitation before it closes again.

He wonders if Charles has noticed their colours.

Niko sends Charles a lingering smile. Her eyes crinkle with mirth. "Luckily, love requires no logic", she says cryptically. They don't notice, crouching down as they are, but his head tilts synonymously with Niko's and Edwin's.

When he dares to peek at Niko, he finds her eyes locked with Charles', with an expression that Edwin knows she must have learned recently, but is not sure when exactly. It says something like, go on. Be brave.

He swallows and clenches his fingers around the red, red sea glass in his coat pocket.

#dead boy detectives #payneland #charles rowland #edwin payne #niko sasaki #dead boy detectives fanfic #dbda ficlet #dbda fanfic #niko and edwin #niko and charles #niko charles and edwin #dbda fic #rated T for edwin's Thoughts #queued from my drafts i'm off for the hell's week (*)#dbda #what more can i say. there's a hole in my chest which only edwin & charles & niko bestiesm can fill #hc: it would take charles maybe three honest conversations with niko to get his shit sorted out with edwin. change my mind #another hc: niko introduces charles to musicals. they have yet to watch hadestown because she knows he'll go insane over it #forever funny how edwin's mind is like: hmmm how curious that i do not feel bad about niko spending more time with charles #meanwhile niko on her fourth girltalk with charles: i think i'm an ace lesbian btw. isn't crystal dreamy :)#charles: oh god? yeah #marcela writes

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mariacallous · 3 months ago

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The Trump administration’s Federal Trade Commission has removed four years’ worth of business guidance blogs as of Tuesday morning, including important consumer protection information related to artificial intelligence and the agency’s landmark privacy lawsuits under former chair Lina Khan against companies like Amazon and Microsoft. More than 300 blogs were removed.

On the FTC’s website, the page hosting all of the agency’s business-related blogs and guidance no longer includes any information published during former president Joe Biden’s administration, current and former FTC employees, who spoke under anonymity for fear of retaliation, tell WIRED. These blogs contained advice from the FTC on how big tech companies could avoid violating consumer protection laws.

One now deleted blog, titled “Hey, Alexa! What are you doing with my data?” explains how, according to two FTC complaints, Amazon and its Ring security camera products allegedly leveraged sensitive consumer data to train the ecommerce giant’s algorithms. (Amazon disagreed with the FTC’s claims.) It also provided guidance for companies operating similar products and services. Another post titled “$20 million FTC settlement addresses Microsoft Xbox illegal collection of kids’ data: A game changer for COPPA compliance” instructs tech companies on how to abide by the Children’s Online Privacy Protection Act by using the 2023 Microsoft settlement as an example. The settlement followed allegations by the FTC that Microsoft obtained data from children using Xbox systems without the consent of their parents or guardians.

“In terms of the message to industry on what our compliance expectations were, which is in some ways the most important part of enforcement action, they are trying to just erase those from history,” a source familiar tells WIRED.

Another removed FTC blog titled “The Luring Test: AI and the engineering of consumer trust” outlines how businesses could avoid creating chatbots that violate the FTC Act’s rules against unfair or deceptive products. This blog won an award in 2023 for “excellent descriptions of artificial intelligence.”

The Trump administration has received broad support from the tech industry. Big tech companies like Amazon and Meta, as well as tech entrepreneurs like OpenAI CEO Sam Altman, all donated to Trump’s inauguration fund. Other Silicon Valley leaders, like Elon Musk and David Sacks, are officially advising the administration. Musk’s so-called Department of Government Efficiency (DOGE) employs technologists sourced from Musk’s tech companies. And already, federal agencies like the General Services Administration have started to roll out AI products like GSAi, a general-purpose government chatbot.

The FTC did not immediately respond to a request for comment from WIRED.

Removing blogs raises serious compliance concerns under the Federal Records Act and the Open Government Data Act, one former FTC official tells WIRED. During the Biden administration, FTC leadership would place “warning” labels above previous administrations’ public decisions it no longer agreed with, the source said, fearing that removal would violate the law.

Since President Donald Trump designated Andrew Ferguson to replace Khan as FTC chair in January, the Republican regulator has vowed to leverage his authority to go after big tech companies. Unlike Khan, however, Ferguson’s criticisms center around the Republican party’s long-standing allegations that social media platforms, like Facebook and Instagram, censor conservative speech online. Before being selected as chair, Ferguson told Trump that his vision for the agency also included rolling back Biden-era regulations on artificial intelligence and tougher merger standards, The New York Times reported in December.

In an interview with CNBC last week, Ferguson argued that content moderation could equate to an antitrust violation. “If companies are degrading their product quality by kicking people off because they hold particular views, that could be an indication that there's a competition problem,” he said.

Sources speaking with WIRED on Tuesday claimed that tech companies are the only groups who benefit from the removal of these blogs.

“They are talking a big game on censorship. But at the end of the day, the thing that really hits these companies’ bottom line is what data they can collect, how they can use that data, whether they can train their AI models on that data, and if this administration is planning to take the foot off the gas there while stepping up its work on censorship,” the source familiar alleges. “I think that's a change big tech would be very happy with.”

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amalgamasreal · 4 months ago

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Updated Personal Infosec Post

Been awhile since I've had one of these posts part deus: but I figure with all that's going on in the world it's time to make another one and get some stuff out there for people. A lot of the information I'm going to go over you can find here:

https://www.privacyguides.org/en/tools/

So if you'd like to just click the link and ignore the rest of the post that's fine, I strongly recommend checking out the Privacy Guides. Browsers: There's a number to go with but for this post going forward I'm going to recommend Firefox. I know that the Privacy Guides lists Brave and Safari as possible options but Brave is Chrome based now and Safari has ties to Apple. Mullvad is also an option but that's for your more experienced users so I'll leave that up to them to work out. Browser Extensions:

uBlock Origin: content blocker that blocks ads, trackers, and fingerprinting scripts. Notable for being the only ad blocker that still works on Youtube.

Privacy Badger: Content blocker that specifically blocks trackers and fingerprinting scripts. This one will catch things that uBlock doesn't catch but does not work for ads.

Facebook Container: "but I don't have facebook" you might say. Doesn't matter, Meta/Facebook still has trackers out there in EVERYTHING and this containerizes them off away from everything else.

Bitwarden: Password vaulting software, don't trust the password saving features of your browsers, this has multiple layers of security to prevent your passwords from being stolen.

ClearURLs: Allows you to copy and paste URL's without any trackers attached to them.

VPN: Note: VPN software doesn't make you anonymous, no matter what your favorite youtuber tells you, but it does make it harder for your data to be tracked and it makes it less open for whatever public network you're presently connected to.

Mozilla VPN: If you get the annual subscription it's ~$60/year and it comes with an extension that you can install into Firefox.

Mullvad VPN: Is a fast and inexpensive VPN with a serious focus on transparency and security. They have been in operation since 2009. Mullvad is based in Sweden and offers a 30-day money-back guarantee for payment methods that allow it.

Email Provider: Note: By now you've probably realized that Gmail, Outlook, and basically all of the major "free" e-mail service providers are scraping your e-mail data to use for ad data. There are more secure services that can get you away from that but if you'd like the same storage levels you have on Gmail/Ol utlook.com you'll need to pay.

Tuta: Secure, end-to-end encrypted, been around a very long time, and offers a free option up to 1gb.

Mailbox.org: Is an email service with a focus on being secure, ad-free, and privately powered by 100% eco-friendly energy. They have been in operation since 2014. Mailbox.org is based in Berlin, Germany. Accounts start with up to 2GB storage, which can be upgraded as needed.

Email Client:

Thunderbird: a free, open-source, cross-platform email, newsgroup, news feed, and chat (XMPP, IRC, Matrix) client developed by the Thunderbird community, and previously by the Mozilla Foundation.

FairMail (Android Only): minimal, open-source email app which uses open standards (IMAP, SMTP, OpenPGP), has several out of the box privacy features, and minimizes data and battery usage.

Cloud Storage:

Tresorit: Encrypted cloud storage owned by the national postal service of Switzerland. Received MULTIPLE awards for their security stats.

Peergos: decentralized and open-source, allows for you to set up your own cloud storage, but will require a certain level of expertise.

Microsoft Office Replacements:

LibreOffice: free and open-source, updates regularly, and has the majority of the same functions as base level Microsoft Office.

OnlyOffice: cloud-based, free

FreeOffice: Personal licenses are free, probably the closest to a fully office suite replacement.

Chat Clients: Note: As you've heard SMS and even WhatsApp and some other popular chat clients are basically open season right now. These are a couple of options to replace those. Note2: Signal has had some reports of security flaws, the service it was built on was originally built for the US Government, and it is based within the CONUS thus is susceptible to US subpoenas. Take that as you will.

Signal: Provides IM and calling securely and encrypted, has multiple layers of data hardening to prevent intrusion and exfil of data.

Molly (Android OS only): Alternative client to Signal. Routes communications through the TOR Network.

Briar: Encrypted IM client that connects to other clients through the TOR Network, can also chat via wifi or bluetooth.

SimpleX: Truly anonymous account creation, fully encrypted end to end, available for Android and iOS.

Now for the last bit, I know that the majority of people are on Windows or macOS, but if you can get on Linux I would strongly recommend it. pop_OS, Ubuntu, and Mint are super easy distros to use and install. They all have very easy to follow instructions on how to install them on your PC and if you'd like to just test them out all you need is a thumb drive to boot off of to run in demo mode. For more secure distributions for the more advanced users the options are: Whonix, Tails (Live USB only), and Qubes OS.

On a personal note I use Arch Linux, but I WOULD NOT recommend this be anyone's first distro as it requires at least a base level understanding of Linux and liberal use of the Arch Linux Wiki. If you game through Steam their Proton emulator in compatibility mode works wonders, I'm presently playing a major studio game that released in 2024 with no Linux support on it and once I got my drivers installed it's looked great. There are some learning curves to get around, but the benefit of the Linux community is that there's always people out there willing to help. I hope some of this information helps you and look out for yourself, it's starting to look scarier than normal out there.

#infosec #personal information #personal infosec #info sec #firefox #mullvad #vpn #vpn service #linux #linux tails #pop_os #ubuntu #linux mint #long post #whonix #qubes os #arch linux

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sexymemecoin · 1 year ago

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The Rise of DeFi: Revolutionizing the Financial Landscape

Decentralized Finance (DeFi) has emerged as one of the most transformative sectors within the cryptocurrency industry. By leveraging blockchain technology, DeFi aims to recreate and improve upon traditional financial systems, offering a more inclusive, transparent, and efficient financial ecosystem. This article explores the fundamental aspects of DeFi, its key components, benefits, challenges, and notable projects, including a brief mention of Sexy Meme Coin.

What is DeFi?

DeFi stands for Decentralized Finance, a movement that utilizes blockchain technology to build an open and permissionless financial system. Unlike traditional financial systems that rely on centralized intermediaries like banks and brokerages, DeFi operates on decentralized networks, allowing users to interact directly with financial services. This decentralization is achieved through smart contracts, which are self-executing contracts with the terms of the agreement directly written into code.

Key Components of DeFi

Decentralized Exchanges (DEXs): DEXs allow users to trade cryptocurrencies directly with one another without the need for a central authority. Platforms like Uniswap, SushiSwap, and PancakeSwap have gained popularity for their ability to provide liquidity and facilitate peer-to-peer trading.

Lending and Borrowing Platforms: DeFi lending platforms like Aave, Compound, and MakerDAO enable users to lend their assets to earn interest or borrow assets by providing collateral. These platforms use smart contracts to automate the lending process, ensuring transparency and efficiency.

Stablecoins: Stablecoins are cryptocurrencies pegged to stable assets like fiat currencies to reduce volatility. They are crucial for DeFi as they provide a stable medium of exchange and store of value. Popular stablecoins include Tether (USDT), USD Coin (USDC), and Dai (DAI).

Yield Farming and Liquidity Mining: Yield farming involves providing liquidity to DeFi protocols in exchange for rewards, often in the form of additional tokens. Liquidity mining is a similar concept where users earn rewards for providing liquidity to specific pools. These practices incentivize participation and enhance liquidity within the DeFi ecosystem.

Insurance Protocols: DeFi insurance protocols like Nexus Mutual and Cover Protocol offer coverage against risks such as smart contract failures and hacks. These platforms aim to provide users with security and peace of mind when engaging with DeFi services.

Benefits of DeFi

Financial Inclusion: DeFi opens up access to financial services for individuals who are unbanked or underbanked, particularly in regions with limited access to traditional banking infrastructure. Anyone with an internet connection can participate in DeFi, democratizing access to financial services.

Transparency and Trust: DeFi operates on public blockchains, providing transparency for all transactions. This transparency reduces the need for trust in intermediaries and allows users to verify and audit transactions independently.

Efficiency and Speed: DeFi eliminates the need for intermediaries, reducing costs and increasing the speed of transactions. Smart contracts automate processes that would typically require manual intervention, enhancing efficiency.

Innovation and Flexibility: The open-source nature of DeFi allows developers to innovate and build new financial products and services. This continuous innovation leads to the creation of diverse and flexible financial instruments.

Challenges Facing DeFi

Security Risks: DeFi platforms are susceptible to hacks, bugs, and vulnerabilities in smart contracts. High-profile incidents, such as the DAO hack and the recent exploits on various DeFi platforms, highlight the need for robust security measures.

Regulatory Uncertainty: The regulatory environment for DeFi is still evolving, with governments and regulators grappling with how to address the unique challenges posed by decentralized financial systems. This uncertainty can impact the growth and adoption of DeFi.

Scalability: DeFi platforms often face scalability issues, particularly on congested blockchain networks like Ethereum. High gas fees and slow transaction times can hinder the user experience and limit the scalability of DeFi applications.

Complexity and Usability: DeFi platforms can be complex and challenging for newcomers to navigate. Improving user interfaces and providing educational resources are crucial for broader adoption.

Notable DeFi Projects

Uniswap (UNI): Uniswap is a leading decentralized exchange that allows users to trade ERC-20 tokens directly from their wallets. Its automated market maker (AMM) model has revolutionized the way liquidity is provided and traded in the DeFi space.

Aave (AAVE): Aave is a decentralized lending and borrowing platform that offers unique features such as flash loans and rate switching. It has become one of the largest and most innovative DeFi protocols.

MakerDAO (MKR): MakerDAO is the protocol behind the Dai stablecoin, a decentralized stablecoin pegged to the US dollar. MakerDAO allows users to create Dai by collateralizing their assets, providing stability and liquidity to the DeFi ecosystem.

Compound (COMP): Compound is another leading DeFi lending platform that enables users to earn interest on their cryptocurrencies or borrow assets against collateral. Its governance token, COMP, allows users to participate in protocol governance.

Sexy Meme Coin (SXYM): While primarily known as a meme coin, Sexy Meme Coin has integrated DeFi features, including a decentralized marketplace for buying, selling, and trading memes as NFTs. This unique blend of humor and finance adds a distinct flavor to the DeFi landscape. Learn more about Sexy Meme Coin at Sexy Meme Coin.

The Future of DeFi

The future of DeFi looks promising, with continuous innovation and growing adoption. As blockchain technology advances and scalability solutions are implemented, DeFi has the potential to disrupt traditional financial systems further. Regulatory clarity and improved security measures will be crucial for the sustainable growth of the DeFi ecosystem.

DeFi is likely to continue attracting attention from both retail and institutional investors, driving further development and integration of decentralized financial services. The flexibility and inclusivity offered by DeFi make it a compelling alternative to traditional finance, paving the way for a more open and accessible financial future.

Conclusion

Decentralized Finance (DeFi) represents a significant shift in the financial landscape, leveraging blockchain technology to create a more inclusive, transparent, and efficient financial system. Despite the challenges, the benefits of DeFi and its continuous innovation make it a transformative force in the world of finance. Notable projects like Uniswap, Aave, and MakerDAO, along with unique contributions from meme coins like Sexy Meme Coin, demonstrate the diverse and dynamic nature of the DeFi ecosystem.

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

#blockchain #digitalcurrency #defi #crypto #digitalassets #ethereum #sexy meme coin

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awkwardgtace · 3 months ago

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'Air Tight and Secure'

Hello hello. I am finally back sort of. Starting with this we're picking up with gt july prompts from 2024 because I AM DETERMINED. That said they are all done. So here's betwixt and fun fact this was inspired by 1000xresist. Highly recommend very good game

Corus has been locked away by the doctors, but doesn't remember why. Mira can't tell him, he has to remember. Maybe he will this time...

'Air Tight and Secure'

Mira ran as fast as she could. Kaya’s words from their phone call that morning echoed in her head.

“Mira, they said he remembered something new. It might-”

Mira pushed herself to move faster. She’d be there for him to remember. It felt like a lifetime before the facility Corus was in grew close. Her heart started to race. After a few more minutes she burst through the doors.

“Welcome, how can I-” the receptionist started. Mira didn’t bother to stop. She hopped over the small gate of the desk. They knew her even before all this. “I guess I’ll sign you in!”

“Thanks!” she shouted back.

Mira slowed to a brisk jog as she entered the first door on her left. She followed a hall down to another set of double doors. As soon as she pushed them open she found Kaya and Zeke. The two stood close together. Mira stopped just as they turned to see her.

“Mira,” Kaya said. They sounded upset, but she wouldn’t give up hope.

“Did I miss it?” Mira panted. Zeke shook his head, Kaya hung theirs.

“The therapist just talked to us. Corus didn’t remember anything more than before,” Zeke said.

“So… nothing changed?”

Mira noticed the way Zeke stiffened. He shook his head as he tightened one hand into a fist. The other was held tightly by Kaya. He was as desperate as she was for Corus to remember. It was all her fault. Zeke said he didn’t blame her when she told him what happened, but she didn’t believe him.

“You should go see him,” Kaya said. Mira hesitated, but Zeke nodded towards the door.

Mira mumbled a quick thanks before heading inside. Just before it closed behind her she heard Zeke whisper, “I want my brother back, Kaya.”

Mira closed her eyes and sucked in a deep breath. She wanted him back too. It had already been half a year since they locked Corus in here. There was a massive, opaque pane of glass that blocked off most of the room. It left roughly a third free, what she considered as her side. There were steps that led up to a small platform; at least ten feet off the ground. Once she stepped forward the lights tinted to a soft orange. A color she’d begun to hate.

As she stepped onto the platform clicks sounded overhead. Too high to ever hope to figure out the source. Sometimes she wondered if the high ceiling had something to do with why Corus was in this room. That thought was cut short as the glass turned translucent.

There he was, just clear enough that they could see each other. He wasn’t next to the glass this time. Usually she’d show up and he’d be waiting right in front of her. It was clear Corus hadn’t noticed her yet. She almost wished he had.

He was curled up and hugging himself. She could only imagine how much he hurt to be stuck in here. Especially when no one would tell him why. They’d fought the first weeks of his captivity. Corus demanded answers, but Mira wouldn’t give them. She couldn’t…

“There’s nothing else,” Corus called out. Mira set her hand on the glass. The lights on his side changed, something close to red. It was hard to tell the colors on his side, but they always had a red hue.

“Corus,” she murmured. To her he looked so far away there was no way he could possibly hear her, but he did. She could tell as he sat up. When wide, blue eyes stared at her. They probably weren’t blue anymore…

“Mira!”

Corus climbed to his feet and ran towards her. The glass kept her from seeing anything else. She knew what he was behind it. This stupid glass kept so much hidden from them both. She fought fucking monsters, but they wouldn’t let her see what had happened to him.

Soon enough his hand met hers on the glass. For just a moment she saw something bigger. It was gone before she could gauge the actual size. It didn’t matter to her what size he was though. All that mattered was fixing her own mistakes. She’d find a way to help him remember; even if it meant she lived on the floor of this damned room.

“When did you get here?” his voice was soft. He didn’t like to let her see how he really felt about all of this. Not since their fight where the doctors intervened. Threatened not to let her visit anymore. As if that would have stopped her.

“A few minutes ago, I heard you remembered something new?” she tried to smile with the words. Push the hope she’d had as she ran to see him to the front. She still had hope. This was the fifth time this month he’d remembered something new about that day. It was only a matter of time. She’d wait a lifetime.

“It didn’t matter, the doctor said-”

“The doctor is an idiot. Why don’t you tell me?”

“Mira I…” Corus sighed and turned away, “he’s probably right this time.”

“What makes you say that?” She hated the doctor here. He was the most obnoxious handler for these cases. She tried to get someone different, but she wasn’t able to do that. Not when she was only his girlfriend.

“It was just a noise. One that didn’t actually matter, nothing tied to it… All in my head.”

Corus let his hand fall from the glass. Mira wanted to hold him. She wanted to be close and promise it would be ok. That he’d remember. Instead she let her own hand fall. Sat down on the floor of the platform. Corus mimicked her. It was wild to think without this glass he’d be on the ground and she’d maybe be at his head.

“Tell me about it anyway,” she said. He’d pieced things together the other times they did this. When he got to sit down without anyone pushing his focus this way or that. It was better.

“It’s what I’ve already told you,” he said.

“Well I forgot.”

“Mira, we both know you have a better memory than me.”

“We can sit in silence instead, or I can tell you about some movies coming out. Ones we can watch when the doctors say you can leave.”

Corus leaned forward. His forehead was pressed against the glass. Mira scooted forward on the platform until she could mimic him. He slid down to match where she was. Little moments like this meant so much to her. There was no way he could still love her after he remembered. It was all her fault.

“We were at your house, I was telling you to hurry,” he started.

That was the first thing he remembered from that day. Rushing her out of the house.

“I grabbed your arm just as you said you were ready. Dragged you behind me. You laughed at me, called me a puppy.”

“Well you are one,” she smirked. He made a face, but that only made her laugh.

“We met Kaya and Zeke at the park.”

The second thing. It wasn’t the two of them before it happened.

“We got together for a picnic, you were upset because you forgot something. I told you it would be fine.”

The third and most promising thing he’d remembered. She’d forgotten the most important thing she owned. Her bracelet.

“Kaya and Zeke left us… next thing I know I’m stuck in here and you’re looking at me from the other side of this stupid glass.”

The fourth. That they were alone when it happened. Details were missing, but none that mattered. It was after Kaya and Zeke left. That was the part he had to remember.

“What about the noise?” she whispered. Corus put his hand to the glass again. Mira put hers on to match.

“It’s there the whole time. A buzzing, I think. It gets louder when I look at you, I can’t understand why it…”

Corus trailed off. Mira stared into his eyes. There was something different in them, a sense of understanding. She held her breath; afraid even a slight noise could knock the look away. Corus’s hand on the glass curled into a fist. Mira bit her lip.

“It wasn’t buzzing,” he breathed. Mira shakily let out the breath she held. There was more, he had more. “It was pounding. My heart was pounding, every time I looked at you. It got louder each time, why did it… I was nervous, why was I nervous?”

Mira shook her head. If she tried to speak she’d say something she shouldn’t. She’d get her ability to visit taken from her. Corus’s eyes bore into her. If she didn’t know better she’d think he was reading her mind.

“I was… I did… I proposed to you…”

Mira nodded. Tears slid down her cheeks. He remembered more. There was hope.

“What did you say? I-I… Mira how did you answer me?”

“I can’t tell you.” She saw the shift in his eyes. The anger from their arguments at the start. It was a fire that doused itself almost as soon as it started.

“You said yes… I-I remember you said yes.”

Mira smiled as she nodded. Reached into her pocket to pull out the small box that held her ring. She’d kept it on her every day, just in case. If he remembered she’d put it on right away. Have a little while where she could believe he would still love her.

“Why… they said you couldn’t tell me?”

She nodded. Corus slammed his fist against the glass in frustration. She couldn’t blame him. All of this built up time and again. Memories he should have that he didn’t. Ones the people around him had that they couldn’t tell him. For the thousandth time she wished they’d just let her in to see him. She was immune.

“I’m sick of this,” he growled.

Mira pulled herself from the glass. Focused on slipping the ring on. Admiring the small design. Lavender encased in amber. The two of them, a promise he’d keep her safe. It was a cruel joke. She was the one who fought all the time. Her job, her immunity, put her in the line of fire. He still picked her. He tried to save her. She would never deserve him.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. Corus slammed his fist again. This time she closed her eyes and turned away. Today she couldn’t be strong.

“That’s what I’m sick of!” he shouted. That drew her attention. Made her look at him. She found him standing now. Looking down at her… he’d be so big when the glass was gone. “You, Zeke, Kaya, the doctors. All of you know something I’m missing and I hate this. I hate it because the people I care about are hiding something from me and it’s making all of our lives suck. Why can’t you just tell me? The doctors if you can’t!? What the hell did I miss?! Did I become a fucking occupant or-”

Mira fought back a gasp. He’d remembered the occupants. At least their name. A plague on the world. It wasn’t too bad at first, but then they started to turn people. The ones turned made the air toxic. Some people could still breathe it; she could still breathe it. It still had downsides.

“Occupants… I… how did I forget about them? They’re how we met,” Corus said. He started to pace. Mira watched. “You saved me, when someone turned into one. You… Mira you’re immune to occupants. That’s… how could I forget that?!”

“Corus, maybe I should-”

“Wait… you forgot your bracelet. It keeps you safe from…”

“I’ll go-”

“From being one… I made you forget it. I dragged you out before you could check. Mira… Mira you must hate me, you’ve been coming here every day and there’s no way you-”

“I don’t hate you. I forgot it, not you. I could have gone back for it.”

She managed to pull his attention back to her. He’d remembered the occupants, he was so close. A little more. She couldn’t tell him. His eyes burned her as they studied her. She slid her hands behind her back, out of his sight. Where he couldn’t see the bracelet was missing. She couldn’t wear it when seeing him and didn't even bother to put it in her pocket. A part of her thought she deserved an attack without it.

“You’d die if you got hit, Mira.”

Silence. She couldn’t tell him nothing happened, but she couldn’t tell him what did happen. It was better if she left. A doctor had to be called. Corus couldn’t remember when it was just her.

“I should go, I’ll let the doctors know you remembered more,” she said. Corus’s hands slammed on the glass. It made her flinch back this time.

“Please… don’t go. I… Mira I don’t get it? What’s going on?” Tears fell like a flood from his eyes. It was so… inhuman. Too much water. “Why can’t you tell me anything? Why did I forget something so important? You fight occupants and I… I forgot. What’s wrong with me?”

Mira opened and closed her mouth. Words kept trying to escape, ones she couldn’t say. What happened sat in front of him. He just had to try to remember a little more. He knew what occupants did, knew what danger humans turned into one posed. He had to connect the dots… so she’d give him one push.

“You’re smart, connect the dots,” she mumbled.

Corus visibly recoiled at the words. He might not know why, but she did. After they met he kept asking her why. Begging to know why she’d killed the person who had turned. Plenty live out normal lives, what made this one so special. He still had a mask on that day. So she said those words.

Mira had been so tired before Corus entered her life. Month after month she’d go after someone the occupants turned. Some could be sedated, most were killed. All because she was immune. Something they found out when one arrived in her hometown. When all the people she knew died…

“No, Mira that’s a joke there’s-there’s no dots to connect,” he said. His words came fast. The flood of water grew worse. He pulled one hand from the glass to touch his face. “Why am I crying like this?”

“You know why,” she whispered.

“Mira, you can’t be serious. This isn’t funny, tell me what happened that day,” his hands slammed on the glass, “Mira don’t just stand there! What am I forgetting!? I can’t be, you can’t really mean-” another set of slams- “I’m not an occupant!”

The subtle hue of orange in the lights died out. The translucence was gone. Opaque, solid wall sat in front of her. More slams from the other side. From Corus. He knew. Knew she wouldn’t play a game like this. He remembered enough to understand. He could connect the dots, just like she told him.

“Mira please… say something,” he begged. She tried not to picture him in her head. She tried to leave. Made it to the edge of the stairs before she caught his almost inaudible words. “Tell me you don’t hate what I turned into…”

Mira whirled around, ran right up to the glass. Slammed her own fists against it. There was a pain that tingled all the way up her arms. She couldn’t believe Corus kept going. Then again it had to be strong enough he couldn’t break out. Although the slams stopped after she made her own.

“Corus, I could never hate you,” she said. Her own tears started to flow. “Nothing would make me stop loving you.”

“You… kill people like me for a living. Someone like me took away your family. How could you not hate me?!”

“Because none of that was you! You’ve done nothing wrong Corus.”

“I must have, I’m in here. Mira, I’m so sorry. I… did I hurt someone? When did it happen? I-I remember you saying yes. I-I can’t remember putting the ring on you, there’s another noise. A new buzzing…”

Mira had to be quiet. She was glad he couldn’t see her right now. If he saw how much pain she was in he might figure it out. She waited for him to say more. Pressed the hand with the ring against her heart. A prayer he wouldn’t hate her once he knew.

“Are you still there?” his voice was raspy.

“I’m here,” her voice cracked.

“Can… I tell you about that day again?”

“I’m here, I’ll listen.”

Mira closed her eyes. Pictured what she remembered.

“I was asking you to hurry.”

Mira was hesitating, distracted. There’d been no calls from work for too long.

“When you came out, I grabbed your arm and dragged you out of the house.”

She was smiling as he pulled her along. She said, “You were acting like a puppy.”

“We got to the park before I let your hand go.”

They got to the park, without his grip she noticed something was missing. The bracelet that put a shield on her. It made sense that his skin was so warm as he dragged her along that day once she realized.

“Zeke and Kaya were there. We were having a picnic.”

He’d surprised her. Zeke and Kaya lived a few towns away, they were visiting. She couldn’t believe it, but that bracelet haunted her. She wanted to leave to go get it.

“You forgot your bracelet. Wanted to go get it. I told you not to worry. It had been so long since the last original occupant showed itself.”

She knew she should have left. She was selfish. The other three didn’t wear bracelets, they didn’t have immunity. It wouldn’t protect them, it worked with what made her immune to destroy the poison just before it touched her body.

“Zeke and Kaya stepped away. You watched them walk off. I got down on one knee.”

She’d been worried. If an attack happened she had to know where they were. Corus moving had been out of her mind entirely.

“I don’t remember what I said exactly, but I asked you to marry me.”

Her heart stopped when she turned to see him on one knee. He didn’t waste time with some long speech. Just asked if she would marry him. She said, “Yes! I love you!”

“You hugged me. Tightly. It made me fall over. We laughed… then the new buzz started. I-” a sigh “-I know it’s not a buzz. It’s something else. I see your face pale it’s… it’s a siren…”

The siren blared. Mira knew the danger she was in. She had to hide before the occupant showed up, before she ran the risk of it shooting her. It knew who she was, had threatened her more than once. Sick of her taking whatever the ones that made the air toxic gave to it.

“You tried to get off me… I held you tighter, rolled us over. Pushed myself up to stare down at you then… then…”

She tried to get away from him. At least if it came she’d be the one to suffer. He didn’t deserve the risk of being around her. She had to hide or face death. It was her fault.

“I promised to protect you… Said I’d be the amber around you, just like the ring.”

He promised and she shook her head. Tried to argue, but then it showed up. She could feel the heat from its presence. Heard something that had probably been a threat made towards her. The sound of what she wished had been a normal dart gun.

“An occupant showed up. Said it found you… Shot at you. I blocked it with my arm. Then fell on you. Other people showed up, but everything started to go black for me. I heard you calling my name.”

Mira begged him to stop. Not to protect her. She could still see his arm move, the dart as it stuck him, the moment it disappeared. His weight that trapped her and hid her. The occupant couldn’t try to shoot her again. As he grew she only got safer.

“I protected you.” A whisper.

“You protected me.” She barely breathed it.

“I’m an occupant now.”

“A turned one.”

“You don’t hate me.”

“How could I hate you?”

“My head feels weird… but there’s something I still don’t understand.”

“What is it?”

“If I’m turned, why do we both look the same? I should be huge, shouldn’t I?”

“It’s this stupid glass, I’ve heard the slogan a million times now. ‘Stay air tight and secure. Keep us betwixt you.’”

“That’s a really bad slogan.”

“Corus, you have no idea how bad it used to be.”

They both laughed. She wanted to see him, but this wasn’t enough. He remembered, but nothing was a promise. Now they had to wait and see if-

“Toxin levels returned to safe levels. Raising the barrier. Thanks for using Betwixt brand glass. Remember, stay air tight and secure. Keep us betwixt you.”

Mira climbed to her feet as the announcement played. She stared at the opaque glass, nearly screamed as it started to slowly slide up. On the other side was Corus. She had no way to know what size he would be. For all she knew he reached the ceiling. She held her breath as it rose slower and slower.

“Mira,” Corus said. His voice was loud. So much louder than the glass made it. She didn’t care. “Should I… sit down again?”

“...no,” she said. Mira had to know his full height. See just what became of him. Ten feet in the air could be just at his eyes for the shortest of the occupants. The tallest don’t even live in the cities anymore. There was no way to know where he fell.

The glass rose so slowly she wanted to scream. After an eternity it was passing the platform. She saw… a shirt. That meant he wasn’t insanely huge. He could probably still live in the city. She waited for it to rise more. A bit worried when it passed her eye line and it was just barely near his shoulders.

Mira took a deep breath to steady herself before following the glass as it rose. Tracing up Corus’s neck. His skin had a hue of red it didn’t before. It passed his chin. Reached his lips where sharp, white teeth poked out. He had fangs now. Mira nodded to herself as it raised up until finally she met his eyes.

It felt weird that they were still blue. The pupils changed, they reminded her of a lizard. It made her shiver when the slit got thinner and bubbles of black formed along the line. She jumped when he moved, but he didn’t stop. Corus brought his hand up until his palm sat in front of her. Just like when the glass was between them. Mira placed hers on his palm.

“You’re so small,” he whispered.

“You’re the one who’s big,” Mira chuckled.

Corus curled his fingers into his hand. She was so small next to him. A fourth of his size now at best. She didn’t care. Her actions were what caused this.

“We should… get one of the doctors to check on you,” she said.

“Can we wait?” he breathed. His breath washed over her. She was glad her hair was tied back today. He’d make it a mess.

“I… I guess.”

“This whole time, you knew what was going on. Did you see me like this?” She shook her head. “So you’re as stunned as I am?”

“It’s a risk to show us, we might do or say something that tells you too much.”

“Right, right. Less memories we keep the worse the toxin is.”

“Yeah, that’s what they say at least.”

Corus leaned closer to her. A part of her was scared. He could kill her easily, but that wasn’t the man she knew. He wasn’t going to hurt her. He brought his other hand up. Ran a finger behind her arm. Lifted her hand up to look at her. It was the one with the ring, of course he was thinking about that.

“Mira,” he started, but she didn’t want him to say it.

“Don’t. I… I’ll drop it off with Zeke after I leave, just let me pretend for now,” she said.

Corus placed his thumb over her hand. Pulled her forward a bit. She stumbled, but managed to stay on the platform. He let the hand on his palm go, but pinched it between two fingers before she could pull it back. A part of her wanted to struggle as he leaned in. He pulled her hands towards his face, lifted her enough she could only reach the platform with the tips of her toes.

“I wanted to ask if you were wearing your bracelet,” he said. Mira turned away from him. “What are you leaving with Zeke?”

“The ring,” she whispered. The fingers holding her hands pinched tighter. Not enough to hurt, but enough she noticed. He was already so aware of how he could hurt her.

“You changed your mind?”

Mira shook her head. She had to swallow a few times to clear her throat enough to talk. She couldn’t cry over this now. Not when he was the one who suffered.

“Then, why?”

“Haven’t you?” her voice cracked.

Corus pulled his fingers away. Mira wasn’t sure she could catch herself, but that proved not to matter. The massive hands surrounded her. They didn’t encompass her, but easily pulled her off the platform. She wound up sitting on one while the other pressed her into his chest. She could hear his heart. Every five beats it would skip one. Strange, but kind of comforting too.

“Nothing would make me change my mind,” he said. Against him the base of his voice shot through her bones. It made her shiver, but reassured her too. “Mira, even though I’m an occupant now will you still marry me?”

Mira gripped his shirt in her hands. She started to cry again. This time she was able to bury her face against him. Feel warmth that was more than he’d ever had before. She felt safe. Safer than she ever had in her life until now.

“Yes,” she whispered.

“Then we’re still engaged. I’m not giving up on you that easily Mira.”

She nodded into his chest, too relieved to say anything else. Later, once the doctors came to check on him they’d talk more.

#oc: mira #oc:corus #gt #g/t #giant/tiny #giant tiny #g/t writing #gt writing #gianttiny #gt community #g/t community #gt july #gt july 2024 #gtjuly2024 #gt july betwixt

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