#protocol open standard

[edsonjnovaes]

GUIA completo NOSTR

GUIA completo NOSTR: o que é, como surgiu e como usar o protocolo que descentraliza REDES SOCIAIS! Area Bitcoin – 08 ago 2023 PARTES DO VÍDEO: 00:00 – O que é e como surgiu o NOSTR 03:58 – Como NOSTR funciona (relays) 06:58 – NOSTR e Bitcoin: o futuro da internet 08:24 – Como criar uma conta no Damus 11:52 – O que são zaps e como enviar bitcoin via Lighting no NOSTR Nostr é a sigla de…

[darkestrellar]

It never occurred to me before because most smart things I do happen by accident but there may be something to svern having a liking for porygon-z and being very adamant about how they're not broken because they don't function the way they're "supposed" to. they just need a bit of tlc and finetuning & they are beautiful to him

[foldingfittedsheets]

What's your opinion on purple™ mattresses?

No one is allowed to come for me about this take, got it? This a safe place for my personal opinion which I was just asked for. Okay? If you disagree just move along. If you love your Purple I’m not saying that’s wrong.

So. I personally really dislike Purple. It’s not just Purple but they were one of the first bed in a box, for which they have much to answer for. Their catchy branding opened up a new type of mattress market. But making a bed cheap enough to roll up like that and still meet fire standard plus providing back support is just a unicorn.

As I previously mentioned I don’t think beds in boxes can provide good long term back support. But the target demographic of broke 20 somethings is robust enough to deal with the lack of back support for a while based on their general vitality.

However a huge part of my clientele when I sold beds were people returning their bed in a box, most frequently Purple, who had horrible experiences. So I’ll admit I got an extremely biased view of them from that standpoint.

But the really shady thing is that Purple won’t disclose their fire retardant. See, mattresses in the US (and many place internationally I think?) have to adhere to fire safety protocols. Why? Because before that was a thing beds would go up like bombs and were considered extremely dangerous in the event of a fire.

Most major bed brands use like Kevlar fibers. There’s chemical treatments that can work too and some folks get pretty worked up about it. The fact is that cheap mattresses basically always have a really dicey flame retardant which brings us to-

Fiberglass! Now, Purple, along with a ton of other bed in boxes, has had a slough of customers pissed off because they’d taken off the cover and suddenly all their stuff including bodies were covered in fiberglass. It honestly makes sense because they have to use something and at the price point it has to be cheap.

Now, Purple swears up and down that it doesn’t use fiberglass but really damningly they don’t say what they do use. A reputable company will just say what their flame retardant is because it’s common enough that consumers want to know.

Their insistence that it isn’t fiberglass while silent about its actual nature is highly suspect. I expect it’s either a thing so close to fiberglass that branding is the only thing keeping it separate or it’s a shady chemical they don’t want to divulge either.

TLDR: Not a brand I’d recommend.

[feminist-space]

Anti-mask policies and decision makers are using the momentum of anti-masking in the context of covid to also prevent people from accessing or using respirators to protect their breathing and lungs from other hazards -- things that were accepted in many industries as standard safety protocols before 2020.

"“During his first week, Complainant started coughing up black phlegm, his throat and tongue would burn, and he began having breathing problems due to excessive smoke and fumes from the cupola. He notified Sturgeon but nothing changed, and he was not provided a respirator.”

After not receiving a respirator, the lawsuit said the man went to the dispensary room and picked up a respirator himself.

He wore the respirator for the next week until the lawsuit said the safety supervisor saw him wearing it and “immediately became very upset; he rudely admonished the Complainant in front of his co-workers for wearing the respirator and demanded that he take it off immediately.”

According to the lawsuit, he told the safety supervisor he did not feel safe doing his job without it and was pulled into a meeting the next day where he was told he would not be allowed to wear a respirator.

...

After the meeting, the complaint said he was assigned to shovel gravel for the day before going home for the weekend at the end of his shift. On Monday, his employment was terminated.

The Occupational Safety and Health Administration (OSHA) opened an investigation into the company after learning of the alleged retaliation, and the DOL said in a statement that OSHA investigators with the Whistleblower’s Protection Program found the company violated federal protections by terminating the employee who exercised their protected rights to request protective equipment."

[mistyorchid]

White Lipgloss

Logan Howlett x mutant fem!reader

Summary: Your lips are chapped after an intense mission in the heat. Logan is more than willing to help. Warnings: MDNI. 99.9% porn, no use of y/n, age gap, student/professor, reader is 21+, praise kink, pet names (doll, bub, sweet girl, baby), size kink, oral (male! receiving), mention of exhibitionism, cum play. wc: 790

Pink, cherry-flavored oasis. Gleaming with your natural spit or a sickeningly sweet gloss. Logan compared your usual appearance to the pouty pair that was frowning in his direction.

"What, somethin' on my face?" You asked, slightly annoyed by Logan's persistent stare.

Before walking towards you with a snarky grin, he waited for the rest of the team to head inside the mansion.

It was no secret that you both celebrated after successful missions. The thick wood walls were no match for whatever sex symphony you were composing.

Logan stood with a hand on his hip, jutting out his right leg to assume the position of a smug boyfriend. He always distributed his weight when standing, like his dick weighed five pounds. Cocky motherfucker.

Lightly tracing your bottom lip with his index finger, he vaguely explained, "Nothing's on your face. Actually, you're missing a 'lil something. . ."

Your eyes widened at the sudden contact. The team completed the mission without any injuries, and that only meant one thing. Logan was celebrating where anyone could see you.

Swiftly removing his hand, you hissed, "Inside. Now. I don't want Charles to write us up again."

Logan chuckled, reasoning, "It was only one time. How could I have known that Dr. Phil would stray from his usual route? All he saw was his star student inspecting and repairing the frayed belt fibers of a respected member of faculty. You know how Charles gets when I'm not business casual."

Before Logan had the chance to embarrass you further, you wrapped an arm around his waist and instantly traveled to your room, placing a hand behind his neck to prevent whiplash.

It was Logan's turn to use his mutation. Unsheathing his claws, Logan gestured towards the band t-shirt you were wearing.

With an argumentative snarl, you shook your head. "No way in hell I'm letting you tear my favorite shirt. It's vintage."

Raising his eyebrows, Logan quipped, "But, doll . . . I'm vintage."

You slowly removed the shirt, haphazardly tossing it onto the floor. Wearing tennis skirts during missions wasn't standard protocol, but Logan accidentally shredded your uniform. He was burning holes with his eyes into the delicate fabric, watching you shimmy them down your leg.

Logan stopped you from undressing fully. "Keep it on. I love seeing you on your knees in this skirt," he whispered.

Taking the hint, you kneeled on the floor. Thankfully, a rug softened the impact.

"No hands. No sucking. Just need your eyes on me, bub." Logan hastily stripped out of his uniform, spending extra time on the zipper leading to his half-hard cock.

Placing the palms of your hands on your thighs, you arched your back, pushing your tits forward. "Since you mentioned it, my lips are feeling a bit parched . . ." you teased.

Logan spit into his open palm and languidly stroked himself. A bead of precum bubbled at the tip. Catching the way your eyes widened, Logan warned you not to taste him . . . not yet.

"Sorry, doll. How's this, I'll tell you what I'm thinkin' of." Logan picked up the pace, tugging his cock with more vigor. "The first night we 'ran in' to each other in the kitchen, you were on my mind so much I thought I dreamed of your presence."

Logan's breathing labored. Furrowing his eyebrows, he paused momentarily to spit again onto the head. "I fantasized about fucking you on the counter top. Knocking over the fruit basket and the beers I just finished . . ."

His hips stuttered. With a sharp inhale, Logan continued, "We went back to bed without so much as a handshake. I could smell that you wanted it. Caught you staring at my ass when I turned to close the fridge. Jerked my cock to the sight of your glossy lips until sunrise."

"I fucking love you, bub. Wanna give you everything," he panted, signalling his release. "My sweet, sweet girl."

Heart warming at his praise, you opened your mouth, tongue outstretched to accept his generous load.

"I love you too, Logan," you professed.

His hips frantically stuttered with pulses of cum, heavily streaking your face. "Oh, fuck . . ." Logan cursed, slapping his cock on the soft expanse of your tongue.

Stepping backward just enough to leave the tip bobbing against your chin, Logan grasped his softening cock and started smearing his cum on your eager lips.

After a couple passes, he focused on applying it like he would a real tube of lip gloss. "That's my girl, so good for me," Logan admired. His cum crudely dripped down your chin.

You slowly licked off the cum Logan applied, which prompted a confused brow arch from your drained boyfriend.

With a shy smirk, you teased, "Guess I need you to retouch my lip gloss, baby."

[rileyslibrary]

You have a few questions about Ghost’s mask and he has some answers. (platonic, self-indulgent banter)

———————————————————————

You sit side by side outside the medic’s office, waiting for your physical exams. You’ve both just returned from a mission, and it’s standard procedure for all personnel to undergo routine checks upon returning to the base. ‘It’s the protocol’, they said. Boring shit.

Adjusting your shirt, you recline on the chair, glancing at Ghost’s back. He’s slouching, elbows on his knees, fingers interlocked together. He turns to his left, looking at something you’re not interested in paying attention to right now.

He’s fascinating.

“Did you make it yourself?” You ask, nodding towards him.

He doesn’t hear you. That, or he pretends he doesn’t do so. You gently nudge his knee with yours to get his attention. He turns over his shoulder, his eyes locking with yours.

“The mask,” you say, pointing at him, then gesturing to your face, “did you make it yourself?”

He keeps staring at you, but not in the same way when he first turned towards you. It’s more ominous now, like a sign in the middle of the road warning you that there’s been an accident ahead. You don’t know what that accident entails, or what you will face if you get closer. Is it a truck that spilt yellow dye all over the road? Is it a major crash with casualties? Do you want to find out?

Yes. Yes, you do.

“I just think it’s neat.” You say, shrugging.

His eyes linger on you for a few more seconds until they end up traveling from your head to your waist. He finally looks away.

You keep staring at the side of his face, studying it; there’s a faint outline of an ear, a barely visible jawline, the skull plate sewn on his painted balaclava.

“Does it get clammy in there?” You ask again, this time louder.

You know he heard you, but he doesn’t turn to look at you this time. He takes a deep breath, his chest rising, and so does his head. He closes his eyes, and with a long exhale, he lets it all out. He stretches his neck to the left and then to the right.

“What is it that you wanna know?” He asks.

“You never removed it during our mission, not one single time,” you explain. “Got me wondering if you ever take it off, that’s all.”

He lets out an almost inaudible chuckle; it’s so quiet that you can’t hear it, but you can see his shoulders rise and fall. He slowly shakes his head as he gazes down at the floor. Hopefully, it’s a genuine reaction and not just an attempt to release the tension building up.

He straightens himself, sliding back in his seat before reclining. His shoulders press against yours, and you make room for him as much as possible. It almost feels like he’s intentionally expanding his presence; otherwise, he might have been more considerate with his posture. On the other hand, so would you with all the drilling.

“I, too, wonder about you.” He says.

“About what?” You ask.

“Whether you ever stop talking.” He replies, turning to look at you.

“I have questions.” You explain as your eyes drift to his right ear.

“I can tell,” He says and gestures for you to go ahead. “Let’s hear ’em.”

You straighten up and twist your upper body towards him.

“Ok, so,” you begin and clasp your hands together. “How does the medic check your ears if you keep them covered?”

“My ears are just fine.” He responds almost too quickly.

“How do you know?”

“I keep listening to you, don’t I?” he replies. “It’s my nerves that need checking.”

“Why?”

“Cause I keep listening to you.” He repeats. “Anything else?”

“What about your mouth?” You ask. “What if they need to check that during the examination?”

“I’m sure you’d manage that for both of us,” he replies as he leans further back, resting his head on the wall. “Since yours rarely stays closed.”

“Is that so, Lt.?”

He shuts his eyes and slowly nods.

“Do you have an answer for everything?” You ask.

“Do you want to find out?”

“Do I?”

“Do you?” He says, opening his eyes and looking straight at you.

You open your mouth to say something but decide against it. You close it and twist your body to the front, yet you can feel his eyes burning through the back of your head.

“You forgot the nose.” He says.

“What?”

“The nostrils.” He explains. “You asked about almost every single orifice in the human body except the nostrils and the arsehole, for Christ’s sake.”

“Do they check those?”

“Only if you have allergies,” he replies. “Or an infection.”

“Allergies in the arse?” You joke. “Never heard of that.”

“No,” he says, pointing at you. “Pain in the arse.”

———————————————————————

[evilminji]

Ya'll know our BELOVED? Little Baby Man?

The noodliest ghosty boy?

What if he WAS Baby? It wouldn't be the first time Danny's enemies plotting gave him offspring. Only this time it's not a clone! It's a proper GHOST baby. Like Lunch Box.

Who's the other parent I hear you ask?

Pretty human-centric view point there buddy, to assume Ghosts NEED two participants to make an offspring. OR are limited to two! Just cause Lunch Lady And Boxie are a couple doesn't mean that's the standard!

We lack data here! ASSUME NOTHING. *sciences harder in your direction*

*awkward cough*

*shuffles notes*

ANYWAY! The child! All it would really take is one(1) VERY poorly timed ambush attack. Imagine if you will, a cell. How does it multiply? While not even close, the simplistic images ARE pretty good as an explanation!

But isn't that just an ecto-clone? You say?

Close!

But THOSE? Are hollow bags of GOO!

No CORE! *slaps the chalkboard behind me*

However! If you wanted, say, a precious bundle off joy? Well, nothing can come from perfect void! You must contribute the building blocks of LIFE! And what are those, my students, in ghost biology??!

Two vital pieces! The Ectoplasm aaaaaaand? That's RIGHT!

The CORE!

A critical and ever vital part of ghost biological function.

Which, like every OTHER part of the body, is malleable. One could, say, make it smaller. Create part of a proto core. OR, should one be ALONE in this process, a FULL protocol.

Upon which, ectoplasm latches, builds, develops and grows. Becomes its own soul.

Now! Do Not mistake me! There is a WILDLY vast difference between the formation of a core and a shattered core. Between willing life and untimely second death. It is not, and never WILL be, easy to create the soul of a child. Tampering with your core is PAINFUL, dangerous, and leaves you WILDLY vulnerable.

There is a REASON Neverborn are so precious.

Buuuuut..... *pulls out a book labeled "Curses Though The Ages"* we must ALSO consider the famed Fenton Luck(tm).

Consider! Where would be the "safest" place to practice making clones of yourself? A place that's wide open. No one wearing white likely to take pot shots at you while your attention is divided in multiple places at once. No parents blowing up the basement at a delicate moment and leaving you trying to hide that extra arm for a week...

Maybe you forget... oh yeah... OTHER GHOSTS.

So there Danny floats. In the Zone. DISTRACTED. His core HUGE from all that recently Royal business as it tries to digest it. Feeling bloated. Trying to work off some energy, as it were. Then who should come along? Why, the universes BEST HUNTER of course! To say *gun powering up noise* :) HI :)

Like buddies DO.

Danny doesn't see him.

Danny is mid-split.

At his limit, honestly. Already made as many copies as he usually can. Is trying for ooooone moooooore..... when...

PAIN. Something cracks.

He loses concentration. Tries to curl in on himself.

Both 1.5 of him tries. He loses hold of the "clone's" Ecto. Somethings free floating leaving his chest along with it. Behind him, Skulker is freaking out. That was MEANT to be on opening volley. A gentle little "hey, come fight me". That crack sounded SERIOUS.

Danny can't breathe. It's like the portal all over again. He curls tighter and tighter. Feels the crown, which was not THERE until this moment, press down tight and gripping onto his head. Thrumming. And then... something feels like a muscle releasing.

His core is... smaller? He'd been watching its progress, it couldn't have digest so fast... how did it lose so much... mass...

Danny feels all the blood drain from his face.

He nearly died.

Again.

His... his soul... WHERE IS HIS SOUL?? That's a piece of him! A part of his SOU-!

He spins around... only to meet the eyes off a blearly blinking, noodlish, cartoon like gremlin with his color scheme. Who's floating along like they're in zero-g. Just... drifting in a slow circle.

They yawn at him with a mouth full of teeny tiny baby fangs. Then chirp.

That's his Son. He doesn't know how, he doesn't know WHY, but he somehow instinctively... just... KNOWS?

They blep.

Danny looks a Skulker. His eyes hold MURDER.

"You're paying child support."

"......yes sir."

@hdgnj @stealingyourbones

[johnbrand]

BACS

With @mrrharper

“Hopkins,” the coach said curtly to the buff guard at the gate. The security officer barely seemed to register him as a person, rather just an item on his list to check off. Once he was allowed to proceed, Coach Hopkins entered into the corridor and proceeded to the farthest room. Quite frankly, the coach embodied everything a man should be at his age: big, strong, rich. Running one of the country’s top collegiate teams meant he was often provided with ample checks. But an investor had been hinting that the meeting he was about to attend would only raise his profits higher. And now standing before the other guests, Coach Hopkins believed this investor was not mistaken.

Feeling mighty pleased with himself, and honestly a bit haughty, the coach scanned the room, taking in all the other broad, strapping men. There was Coach Larson from one of the major east coast schools, Coach McNamara from the private military academy that swept the competition every year. Coach Hopkins recognized another prominent coach from California, but could not place his name. There were a few more men in the room, engaging in casual conversation about work, but the atmosphere in the space was mildly tense. Instead of acquainting himself with others, Coach Hopkins took a seat and remained there until the presentation began. 

“Gentleman,” the host began. The suit that covered his large frame appeared painted on, tight against his skin. A former collegiate athlete who had stayed in shape; Coach Hopkins could not help but take a moment to respect the work. “Invited amongst you today are some of your finest colleagues in the field. Hopefully you all know why you are here, so we will skip past the pleasantries and get right to the presentation.”

Behind the host, the wall suddenly began to glow. A soft light filtered upon it before focusing on colors and images. Eventually, the display became clear, showcasing live camera footage inside an empty male restroom.

“We believed the best way to explain our product was to show how it works,” the host started slyly. Coach Hopkins watched as the door to the restroom opened, revealing a young college-aged male. By his medium build and uniform, the coach assumed he could have been in lacrosse, baseball, or even a non-tackling football player. His third guess was correct.

“Before us is Dawson Welch, a decent transfer from an undisclosed Division III school. Originally holding potential, he has not yet conformed to our nationwide protocol, otherwise known as BACS for short.”

The four words were then flashed in red at the bottom of the screen. A silly acronym, but one that worked nonetheless.

Beefy          Aggressive          Cocky          Straight

“Our case study is about to demonstrate the results of our program,” the host smiled.

There were a few murmurs from the other men. The California coach even shifted a bit, slightly uncomfortable at what he was about to witness. Coach Hopkins remained silent, observing the subject. By his size and careful actions, he could already identify that three of the required four set standards were missing.

“Tyler?” Dawson called out into the room. “Baby, it’s alright, I’m here now.” The coach nodded with confirmation for the fourth characteristic. Grabbing his phone, the host then sent a simple text message. Thanks to the live camera, the men could all watch as the subject’s own device buzzed. Timidly opening it, Dawson checked his phone.

“Ok Tyler, I am going to open the link you sent me,” Dawson called out, unaware the link was not actually sent from his romantic interest. As if already suspecting the lurking danger behind the text, the subject slowly tapped the link and let it proceed forward. The room lit up in a flash, even blinding the live camera temporarily. The audio did not shut off, but the stream went quiet. Moments later, the men were reoriented back into the restroom.

Murmurs flew around the space once more. A few of their faces displayed shock at the screen presented before them. Coach Hopkins held stoic, but his eyes bore straight on. The scene before him was almost entirely the same. Nothing had changed, except for the subject.

“Gone are the days of your players attending frivolous seminars and engaging in anti-anything protests. Thanks to our technology, we can now guarantee your boys will be real, undeniably American men.” 

Where once stood the rather average athletic young male was now a bulky creature. He was taller, brawnier, and brutish. His uniform had been replaced with a tight, all-black outfit to better display his offerings. The sleeveless tank outlined massive pecs, broad shoulders, a thick core, and made his cannon-like arms bulge out of his sides like an oversized action figure. The running shorts appeared more like briefs, searing into the monstrous thighs that led down to steel calves and feet so large they could not be accommodated at most shoe outlets. Speaking of briefs, Coach Hopkins noted the subject was no longer wearing any; a thick python and a low-hanging set were peeking out of one of the leg holes. 

By the gigantic size, the host could easily confirm his product met the first criteria. And by the backwards cap, arrogant grin, and constant man-handling, the men in the room were all able to confirm the second and third on their own. They had been around these types long enough to know the signs.

“What was I doing anyway, bro?” Dawson asked himself in a voice deeper and duller than his previous offerings. After scratching at his thick pubes and giving it a sniff, an idea suddenly sprung into the subject’s head. Coach Hopkins could sense the process of thinking was a more difficult procedure now then it had been before. “Right, I was gonna see if that chick from last night still wanted to get laid tonight. What was her name, Jenna? Brianna? Maybe she’d be a good lil girl and bag me a threesome? God, that’s so hot…”

The stream cut off shortly after, but not before the subject’s continual groping started to awaken his massive dong. The last image was frozen onto the screen, with Dawson preparing the classic flexed picture his predatory nature utilized to ensnare victims.

“So what do you say, gentlemen,” the host sneered. “Would anyone like to try our trial package?”

[baby-tini]

Can we PLEASE talk about fucked up foreplay? All I can think about is PM Dazai curbstomping some poor dude who betrayed the mafia (it's standard protocol after all, jaw breaking+three shots to the chest) and it's for your enjoyment, just because you asked if you could watch because you're both equally fucked up and it's like, a whole thing, he drags the torture out, humiliating the man ,spits on him, asks you to spit on him as well, makes him kiss his boot or the gun he's gonna shoot him with, just—fuuuuuuccckk

TW- Murder, Detailed Torture, Violence, Blood, Gore

YES WE ABSOLUTELY CAN!!! I NEED MORE THIRST LIKE THIS IN MY INBOX IMMEDIATELY!!! Thxs!!! (I may have went overboard...)

The both of you were at Lupin when Dazai was made aware of the situation, stepping away too take the call as you tipsily conversed with the bartender, the little giggles bubbling from your throat as you spewed whatever came to your mind. He wasn't gone for long though, only a couple minutes before you felt him leaning over your shoulder from behind, his lips inches from your ear as he told you that the both of you had too go. He was quiet as he led you out of the bar, leading you by the waist into a sleek black car, giving the man upfront directions as he closed the door. He was unbothered as you messily climbed into his lap, your head foggy from the liquor as his hands moved to your waist too help you coordinate better before you sloppily made out with him, you always found Dazai too be extraordinarily attractive, but even more so when he was pissed, plus mixing the smell of his cologne into it, it just gave you a whole new experience of a high. There wasn't much reciprocation on his end as his hands sit on your hips, he just allowed you too do as you pleased. The drive felt quicker then you originally thought, as the car stopped and Dazai reached for the door handle as Dazai told the driver, "watch her." You had tugged on his coat when he said that, crawling closer to him as you whined, pleading to him with a, "wanna watch 'samu..."

He stared for a moment before his hand reached out and grabbed your arm and pulled you out, stumbling into his chest as he shut the door behind him. It was a dark alley that he led you down into, a man bloody and bruised laid on the floor, he was covered in dirt and soot, his once white shirt now soaked through with crimson and mud as his face bled, ruby droplets leaking down his chin as they fall to the floor in a constant flow. His uncovered eye was empty as he stepped closer to the man, slow and calculated, like a predator as his men that were guarding the traitor stepped away as Dazai shooed them away, you following close behind him. Dazai stood in front of the cowered man, his whole body shaking as Dazai stared down at him, before he dragged the man to the stairs a few feet away, the man began pleading for his life, making promises he knew he'd betray in the future as he was thrown face-first into the hard concreate of the stair case, his nose busting on impact as his mouth fell open and he let out a muffled cry.

"Because you couldn't keep your fucking mouth shut, I had too be called away too come deal with you." Dazai snarled as his foot harshly came down on the back of the mans head, the sound of the mans teeth shattering made a loud cracking echo as the mans mouth instantly started too leak blood and the chipped pieces of his teeth fell out of his mouth. The man was left panting and before he could move, Dazai kicked him in his stomach, causing him too groan and roll onto his back. He gestured you over, letting his hand settle on the arch of your back as he scowled at the man. "Apologize to her, and maybe I'll think about ending you quickly." The apologies that spewed from the mans bloody mouth were instantaneous as he looked up and pleaded to you, only too have Dazais foot come down, crushing his femur in the process. It was a loud ugly wail that left that mans lips, so loud that you thought his vocal cords would bleed. The man quickly shut up when Dazai pulled out a Colt M1911A1, pointing it at the mans chest, you saw the deep fear in that manns eyes before he quickly squeezed them shut and tried too quiet his sobs. Dazai felt a pawing at his chest before he looked over at you, your pupils blown as you tugged at his belt, he hummed at you before leaning down and capturing your lips in a kiss before he slipped his tongue in your mouth, only pulling away when he felt the man moving under his foot, that was still dug into the man femur.

"You're so fucked up sweetheart... getting wet from watching me break a mans jaw, hm?" Before you could even attempt too deny his claims, you felt one of his hands slip into your panties, rubbing you through them as you quietly gasped, clinging to him. He looked over at the man, his fingers now rubbing your clit as he took in the sight of the mans wide-eyed expression. His hand, that was still gripping the gun, playfully moved around, taunting the man as he waved the gun in his face. The moment he pulled his hand out of your panties, you tugged at his hand, trying too drag it back. Placing a quick slap on your ass, he walked over to the man, placing his foot on his chest. "Thank me." Dazai stated, the man immediately spewed his praise, thanking Dazai for his mercy and that he was sorry that Dazai even had too come out, his voice coming out gargled as Dazais foot pushed harder into his chest. Until, Dazai backed off, letting the man take a couple deep, much needed, breaths. The man didn't even have time too blink before the sound of three distinct gunshots echoed through the alley and he felt a burning pain before everything went black as he felt a warm red liquid pool on his chest.

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

omg stop a cap mactavish drabble where they're caught 'n he's gotta keep the reader calm would feed my soul

—Listen To My Voice

⇢ ˗ˏˋ 5k Drabble Masterlist ࿐ྂ

╰┈➤ ❝ [He orders you to focus on him as the sounds outside the cell get closer. He promises nothing will happen to you. You know he's lying.] ❞

“Jus’ keep your eyes open and listen to my voice, eh?” The heavy Scottish drawl snaps you back into focus, your head pounding awfully and pain ricocheting up and down your limbs. It’s a stiff and unyielding order. “C’mon now, Sergeant.” 

Coughing, you hack up splatters of blood onto your cargos—hands and arms tied down with rough rope that skins you every time you shift. 

“Fuck,” you mutter, blinking rapidly as the footsteps walk away from your holding cell and disappear with the slam of a far-off door. 

The Captain ahead of you grunts, his hard blue eyes sliding down the wreckage of your uniform; the open wounds and torn fingernails. He doesn’t look much better, truth be told. Your captors had taken pleasure in making you watch the other get brutalized—the vile rage in your eyes yet the inability to do anything. 

It was mental torture as well as physical.

“Oversight ought to know we’re gone,” Soap slides out smoothly, tilting his mohawked head to the side to study the room in casual sweeps, as if not bloodied and broken. “—they’ll be sendin’ out recon teams to scout the area in little under a day. Standard protocol.”

His voice trails, seeing your gaze locked onto the door of the cell, pupils nothing but tiny dots in your burst veins of the once white sclera. Blue finds the way your body shakes, and the man’s large fingers twitch along the arm of his chair.

In the back of his throat, he lets off a rumble and resets his stubbed jaw; the scar along his left eye shifting with his expression. 

“Sergeant,” your face twitches, but you don’t look at him. Inside your chest, your rattling lungs can nearly be heard aloud. 

Captain MacTavish’s lips tighten. “Didn’t I tell you to listen? Pipe up! This is important.” 

Your mind dances between hysterics and the numb oblivion of shock. While Soap had years to adhere to the idea of bare torture—even going through it before—you had no such luck. Experienced with weaponry, yes, but One-Four-One had only taken you on with the idea that you could become better than you already were. 

You’d never gone through an actual interrogation beyond training. 

Fast flinching eyes dart to your superior, chest heaving and adrenaline coating your expression. Blood drips to the floor. 

Soap grinds his teeth and sighs through his nose.

She won’t last like this, he tells himself—blunt and honest. He’d told Price it was a bad idea to let you tag along, and without the reassurance from his fellow, he would have straight-out denied you coming. Too inexperienced. 

This was exactly what he had been worried about. 

But, hell, if that fear in your eyes didn’t make his stomach knot; a heavy rage at the image of your broken skin as all he could do was watch. But it was a silent kind of fury. Weighted with the knowledge of revenge. 

While the man hated dogs, he sure acted like a loyal one. 

“One day,” the Captain tells you—hardened; inflexible. His orbs are like hard steel and his stiff body like rock. “You can take one more day. Just need to focus on me…Copy? I don’t want your eyes to leave me. Not through any of it.”

You push through your haze, staring into his eyes with the vile stench of fear in the air. It was human nature to not want to be harmed. To dread pain and suffering in all senses. 

This man seemed apart from that. 

The Captain grunts, harsher now, “Copy?”

“I-I,” you stutter, lashes fluttering. “I copy, Sir.” 

“Relay.” He barks, watching you closely.

“One day.” Answering immediately, you clear your throat and stifle your whimper of agony—a few of your ribs are broken. “I can make it one more day.”

“Good.” Soap’s accent makes the words clipped and true. Taken as law. “Nothin’ll happen that won’t be repaid. Keep that close, it’ll help.” 

“How many times have you been through this?” Talking helped with the nerves, your focus leaving the sounds in the distant hallways and the loud voices wafting in the vents. The room was cold; you shiver and grimace as your body moved. 

“Too many.” Soap huffs, pulling at his restraints with a heavy hand and growling under his breath when nothing happens. “Comes with the territory, you’ll get used to it.”

You lick your bloodied lips and feel the cuts in them. “...Is that a good or a bad thing, Sir?” 

His lips twitch into a low smirk, shooting you a sly narrowing of his lids. “Well, I’d say that’s up to you now, isn’t it?”

In the grimness and the barbarity, you huff what can be described as a dead woman’s laugh. 

The Captain, still trying to find a loose area of the rope, grits his teeth and utters, “There’ll be no deaths here ‘cept the ones outside this cell, eh? Like I said—focus. When I tell you something, I don’t care how hard it is, you’ll be listenin’ to me. Got that?” 

Footsteps sound up again from beyond, and you tense, eyes flinching wider. Soap grunts out an order and you keep your feral gaze locked on his. Blue eyes bore into you, flaying their meaning deep into your body like you’re made of clay. The uptick in your pulse makes you shake wildly. 

“Keep those eyes right on me. Nothing’s goin' on that’ll kill you, aye?” The door turns and the unlocking of the barrier snaps like electricity up your spine. You want to run, but you know you can’t.

And through it all, you stare straight into Captain MacTavish’s frozen eyes—his strong brow pulled in with authority. He nods his approval with a quick jerk of his head. When the door opens, you can’t help but fear he’s lying.

TAGS:

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[nightingalescall]

Prelude to Pandemonium

Kingdom of Ebreau:

prologue|part 1|part 2(you are here)

"I can't breathe, Zephyr..."

You panted as you posed for the ending, your legs trembling beneath you from the exhaustion and the lack of oxygen. You've been repeating this sequence for the past several days but it just doesn't get easier, not with your access to air hindered.

Zephyr sighed, his eyes closed. "I'm sorry, Lady (y/n) but this is standard protocol." You went back to standing normally as you lifted up your veil, revealing your sweat-filled face.

"How... How did you do this without fainting?" You expressed your confusion and astonishment at Zephyr as you tried to catch your breath. Zephyr walked closer, his hand holding a towel before using it to wipe your sweat away. "I struggled just as much as you did, Lady (y/n). In fact, you're doing much better than I did in the past." He smiled reassuringly.

"You're not saying that just to comfort me, are you?" You questioned skeptically as you took the glass of water he handed you before taking a sip. "It's the truth." Zephyr reassured, patting your head.

You nodded and handed him back the glass, believing him. "It's just...So hard to breathe with this on and dance at the same time." You complained under your breath. Zephyr reached towards your hair and took off the veil. He fiddled with the fabric in his hands, appearing to be thinking.

"...I'll get someone to make some last minutes modifications." He finally said after some silence. "Is there enough time? The ceremony is tomorrow night." You knitted your eyebrows together, unsure about his suggestion.

Tomorrow night, you will meet with the Royal family of Ebreau for the first time. From what Zephyr told you, you will be given a ceremony similar to the ones they hold for the initiation of newly appointed saints to celebrate your arrival in Ebreau. At the same time, it will serve as your debut to the public eyes. During the ceremony, the Royal family will give you their blessings as a welcoming to the kingdom. Then, they will impart to you their hopes for further collaborations. In response, instead of words, you will perform the Dance of Resonare Auream to answer their call.

According to Zephyr, the Dance of Resonare Auream replicates the movements of high priests from ancient times when they performed rituals to initiate a connection with Calerus in order to seek answers from him. Their movements during these rituals were modified and implemented into this dance. The Dance of Resonare Auream is only performed by saints during their ceremonies as a way to pledge allegiance to the Royal family and symbolises a saint's role as a bridge between the divine and the mortal world.

Being the saint of the temple of Sonnet, it comes without saying that Zephyr also performed this dance at his initiation years ago. Although there are some differences between the male and female counterparts, it's still mostly the same so Zephyr became your temporary mentor and guided you though the dancesteps. The dance wasn't hard in terms of its steps, simple but still elegant and graceful. The difficulty came from the odd tempo of the dance music. It would pick up and slow down suddenly at times, not to mention there are pauses in the music which needed you to count the tempo so you wouldn't come in late or early.

The added on challenge of having to do all that with a veil on was not fun, to say the least. All you've been doing the past week or so was trying to perfect these steps and making sure you were on beat while also ensuring you don't faint during the dance. The ceremony tomorrow night was opened to all citizens to attend. Thousands of eyes will be on you then and you don't intend on making a fool of yourself. What would the people think of their Messiah if you did?

The pressure was on. You needed to do well.

You sighed internally.

If only the veil wasn't part of the standard ceremonial uniform... It'll be one less thing to worry about without it.

Zephyr held up the veil between both of you, drawing your attention back to him and temporarily obscuring your view of his face "For you, Lady (y/n)," he started, a playful tone in his voice.

"Nothing is impossible." He lowered the veil, revealing his wide smile. You felt yourself tense up at his expression and you questioned your own body's reaction. You don't understand why but you suddenly feel uneasy and on edge. Something felt off about Zephyr. His tone was warm and his body language seemed relaxed but his smile looked...Sinister.

However, as quickly as that foreboding smile appeared, it disappeared just as fast from Zephyr's face. "Don't worry. I'll handle it." A warm smile graced his lips once more as he wiped a few stray beads of sweat from your cheek. "You should go back and rest now, Lady (y/n). It'll a tiring day for you tomorrow. Come." He took your hand and led you out of the practice hall, your veil grasped firmly in his other. You followed his lead and came to the entrance door to the hall.

Just as Zephyr's hand touched the wooden door handle, a knock came from behind it and the door opened inwards, nearly hitting Zephyr in the face. "Saint Zephyr." A dainty nun stepped into the hall as she called out, her voice soft and low. Her gaze flickered to you. "A-and the Messiah." She stuttered before bowing hastily to you.

"Yes, Sister Darlene?" Zephyr nodded at her greeting. You've met Sister Darlene a few times before when she needed Zephyr's opinion on some church related matters. From your memory, she was a shy and timid young nun, prone to stuttering and fumbling over her words. Though, you heard she has a knack for singing. Maybe you could befriend her. It'd be nice to have someone other than Zephyr to talk to. (Not that he wasn't good company or anything but some diversity is always good...right?)

"I-it's about tomorrow's transportation" Darlene fidgeted in place. Zephyr nodded, prodding her to continue as he fondled with your veil in his hand.. "S-shall we use the opened air carriage or the closed one?" Darlene asked, stealing a few short glances at you. Zephyr, however, seemed to be a bit preoccupied as he kept his gaze down while feeling out the veil. He roughly measured it using his hands as he replied nonchalantly. "The closed one."

Darlene nodded. "Then, s-shall I also inform the Ordo Concordiae? S-so they can post g-guards along our route?" You perked up at that mention. That's a name you haven't heard in a while. The Ordo Concordiae or the Order of Harmony was the name of the guards you worked for before becoming saint. it's been a while since you heard from them. Would they be present for tomorrow's ceremony too? Do...do they remember you?

Zephyr held up the veil before putting it on you once more. He adjusted it and you guessed he was taking some mental notes about the length of the veil in order to make modifications from the way he tilted your head side to side as he observed. "No need. The Royal guards will be on duty along the route tomorrow." He replied, not looking at Darlene.

You complied with Zephyr, letting him move your head around freely with the veil over your face. Through your obstructed view, you saw Darlene straightened her back before replying. "I see. I will go do the necessary arrangement then. Excuse me then, Saint Zephyr, Messiah." Darlene said as she bowed her head. You felt surprised. That was the first time you've heard Darlene speak so confidently and clearly.

Was she that eager to leave?

You held back a chuckle at the thought. Maybe you should find the time to get to know her.

"Of course, Sister Darlene." With that, she left the two of you alone. Zephyr was quiet as he looked at you. Despite the veil, he still seemed to be looking at you directly in the eyes.

"..."

After some silence, he leaned down and placed a soft kiss on your forehead. Well, the part of the veil that covered your forehead. "Alright, let's get you back to your room now, Lady (y/n)." He pulled back and held your hand, leading you out of the hall and down the corridors of the temple.

You walked beside him as you reached up to take off the veil he forgot to remove from you. The moment your hand touched the fabric, Zephyr's hand shot up and grabbed yours, forcing it to a stop. You tilted you head in confusion.

Zephyr stopped in his steps and turned towards you, now holding both your hands in his. "In the case that I don't manage to get the necessary modifications done in time, you will still need to use this one at the ceremony, Lady (y/n)." He said as he readjusted the veil, making sure it was securely placed on your head. "Thus, i suggest you to always keep it on before your dance comes to pass. Let your body adjust to it so it won't strain you as much." He advised.

"Oh...I see." You didn't want to wear this annoying headpiece wherever you went but he made a good point. Reluctantly, you agreed. "Alright." You sighed, feeling defeated. "Good." Zephyr patted your head before continuing to lead the way.

You arrived in front of your room shortly after and Zephyr bid you farewell as you entered. The setting sun could be seen outside the window in your room. Its glow painting your room in a soft orange hue. You sighed as you walked over to your bed before limply flopping onto it. You buried your face in the sheets, smelling the light flora scent of the soap they used for cleaning emanating from it.

"..."

You did nothing as you laid on your stomach on the bed, basking in the silence. Your mind raced, thinking about tomorrow night. Two years ago, when you first arrived in Ebreau, you'd never thought you'd ever have the need to meet with the Royal family but now, not only was your presence going to be tomorrow night's highlight, you were going to perform for them too!

You groaned loudly into the sheets. The stress was getting to you. "Being Messiah is so difficult..." You mumbled, rubbing your face against the sheets as you coped with your anxiety.

However, the rough fabric of the veil prevented you from doing that too. You felt the sandy texture rubbed uncomfortably against your cheeks and nose. You huffed angrily as you reached up and yanked the veil off you. Throwing the golden headpiece onto the floor, you stuffed your face back into the sheets, actually feeling the softness of it this time.

The whole ordeal of shouldering the future of Ebreau as Messiah paired with the events of tomorrow night already gave you a big headache. You didn't need the extra challenge of wearing something so incredibly inconvenient!

Who came up with the idea of dancing with a veil on?!

"Stupid protocol making me dance like a monkey in a veil..." You clicked your tongue and complained. "How am I going to do this..." You sighed into the bed.

Your whole experience made you realised just how hard it was to be in a high position like this. How did Zephyr survive so many years being saint? It's only been a month since you became Messiah and you felt like you were going to break apart already.

You flipped over on the bed, facing the ceiling. "Calm down." You whispered to yourself, lightly slapping yourself on both cheeks to make yourself snap out of it. Complaining and stressing over it like this wasn't going to solve your problems. You just had to take it one step at a time.

Even if these steps were big strides.

You closed your eyes, letting yourself rest.

It'll be fine. You'll do fine.

You reassured yourself.

Zephyr's done it before so it's definitely possible. It has to be.

You thought, convincing yourself that dancing with the veil on won't kill you.

I just have to control my breathing and-“Believe only what thou sees, lamb.”

!!

You sprang up from the bed, frantically looking around your room for the source of the voice. You quickly recomposed yourself once you realised that it was Calerus that just spoke to you.

You furrowed your eyebrows at his words.

What do you mean?

You thought in your mind.

“What goes unseen is but an illusion.”

Calerus' voice rumbled in your head once more. Even with his elaboration, it was still too vague for you to understand. You asked for more but you were met with silence. It seemed Calerus was done talking to you.

Believe in what I see? Is that what he means?

You tried to make sense of the god's words and why he said them but nothing clicked. In the midst of your pondering, a knock came from your bedroom door.

"I've brought your dinner, Lady (y/n)." Zephyr's familiar voice came from outside.

You pushed yourself onto your feet and went to the door, halting your wondering of the deity's warning.

That could wait for now.

It was dinner time.

~✟~

"Pardon?!" You let out as your eyes went wide. You had just woken up and were having a peaceful breakfast when Zephyr just broke the most ground shaking news to you. "We will be leaving for the Royal palace after you finished breakfast and get dressed." Zephyr repeated and you almost choked on your food.

"I thought we were going this afternoon! Isn't the ceremony tonight? Why are leaving now?!" You asked, feeling absolutely distraughted. You thought you still had the entire morning to prepare and calm yourself! That was why you got up so early in the first place!

"The ceremony is tonight, yes," Zephyr scooted his chair closer to you, patting your back as an effort to calm you down. "but you need to be meet with queen and prince so we need to go early before they get busy with welcoming guests." He explained.

"Won't I be meeting them tonight? Why do I need to go see them now?" You asked, perplexed by this turn of events and desperate to find a way to delay this meeting as much as possible. Zephyr looked down at the table, thinking of how to phrase his next sentence to you. "Tonight's ceremony is more of a show to the public than it is an official meeting, Lady (y/n)." You cocked your head to the side. "I don't understand..."

"Take it as the name suggests. A ceremony. All ceremonies are rehearsed beforehand so everyone involved knows what to do when the time comes." Zephyr explained as he ran a hand though your hair. "The real meeting between you and the Royal family is done in private with only you and them present." You felt like you were going to throw up from the stress.

Your plate was still relatively full but you've already lost your appetite after this reveal. You even requested for something nice and fancy to eat this morning to help with the nerves.

Guess it's all going to waste now.

"I..I'm full now." You mumbled and pushed the plate away. You got up from your seat but Zephyr grabbed onto your arm before you could take a step further. "But you've barely eaten anything, Lady (y/n)." He frowned.

"I don't feel like eating anymore." You admitted as you looked down, feeling guilty from wasting perfectly good food. Zephyr sighed as he stood up before taking you into a tight hug.

?

"You'll do great, Lady (y/n). Believe me." Zephyr whispered into your ear as he squeezed. Your eyes went wide in surprise at his words before slowly softening. You wrapped your arms around him, returning the hug as you buried your face into his chest. The familiar scene of Zephyr's robe wafted into your nose. It smelt of petrichor, calming and refreshing.

"Thank you..." You mumbled, feeling better.

A pair of lips pressed the top of your head as you felt Zephyr leaned down. You sighed softly.

No matter how tough it gets, you know you'll always have Zephyr.

~✟~

The sound of cheering was deafening outside of the carriage. Looking out the carriage window, you saw lines upon lines of people standing beside the road, jumping and waving with big smiles on their faces. You waved back, trying your best to ensure no one is ignores or left out (though it was impossible with the amount of people present).

Horses pulled your carriage along the cobblestone road, their neighs occasionally penetrating the cheers and yells of the crowd, reaching your ears within your ride. Nuns and monks led the procession towards the Royal palace, walking in front while holding various chimes and bells that you've never seen before. The ringing of these instruments accompanied the way as if they were some sort of beat to follow.

Zephyr sat across from you, gazing out the window too with a soft smile on his lips. He stayed silent, letting you take in the adoration the people of Ebreau wanted to show you. His hair was tied up in a ponytail (he did that a lot ever since your accidental compliment on it) and his bangs fluttered gently from the breeze blowing into the carriage.

"Miss Messiah!"

In the midst of the dissonant voices, a certain call, low but clear shot through the air and caught your attention. The familiar pitch urged your curiosity to look for the source. And so you looked. Near the back of the crowd, a man, taller than the rest, stood out as he yelled again with a hand beside his mouth.

"Thank you!"

It was faint but you could make out his words. His structure seemed familiar. Squinting your eyes, you honed in on his face.

!

It was Mr. Citris!

Grinning, Mr. Citris looked beside him with a finger pointed at you. A person stood at his side, though their smaller frame causes them to be blocked by the people in front, besides from the top of their blond head, you could not see any other features. From your faraway position, you saw Mr. Citris spoke to the person beside him before bending down and picking them up.

A young girl came into view as Mr. Citris held her by her waist and lifted her up in front of him. A bashful flush spread across the young girl's face, seemingly embarrassed by her father's antics. The two exchanged a few more words before the girl eventually turned towards you. She waved with a smile.

The realisation finally dawned on you and you almost slapped yourself for being so slow.

That girl is Mr. Citris' daughter!

The girl's complexion was light but not sickly. Her smile was small yet bright. She looked...Well. Mr. Citris must have use the gold coins to buy the medicine. Even then, the medicine doesn't cure her, only slows down and eases the pain which means...She went out of her way to come see you despite her condition.

A warmth spread through your chest. The thought that you successfully helped someone, even just a little bit, was just the affirmation you needed.

Maybe you weren't hopeless.

You waved back, hoping they would see your reaction and how happy you were that things worked out. You smiled, grinned even.

Ah, wait.

They can't see you smile.

They can't see your face at all.

The veil swayed gently in front of your face following the shaking of the carriage.

The joy you felt a moment ago dissipated as quickly as it arrived. You deflated like a balloon but you waved back nonetheless (albeit somewhat dispiritedly).

Your carriage eventually passed the pair and they disappeared into the crowd. Your vision was once again filled with never-before-seen faces of strangers and your ears flooded with their unfamiliar yells.

Everything had been new to you when you were promoted to Messiah. New lifestyle, new responsibilities, new outlook, the list goes on. For this procession, you had hoped to find some familiarity, some remnant of the past to remind you that you weren't always Messiah, that not long ago you were among these crowds of people.

But looking at the sea of people, you didn't even see any guards in black uniform, guards of the Ordo Concordiae, your colleagues. They were perhaps the closest people you could call family in this place (as messed up as it is considering they basically forced you to work for them) yet you could only see white.

White of the uniforms of the Royal guards.

They stood along the road, ensuring no one cause trouble for the procession towards the palace, holding back any who dared to get too close. You continued to greet the onlookers albeit less enthusiastically.

"...Lady (y/n)."

Your head snapped towards Zephyr after he broke his silence. "Let us talk." You cocked your head to the side, confused by his sudden request. He drew the blinds to the window, isolating the both of you from the outside. “What is it?” You suddenly felt uneasy. Darkness shrouded the carriage but a few rays of light came through the gaps, illuminating Zephyr's face. His face was expressionless and lacking of warmth, unbefitting of his usual demeanour.

“…” He remained quiet and it agitated you further. Zephyr moved from his seat across from you to beside you, facing some difficulty standing up straight due to the low ceiling of the carriage. He shuffled to your side of the carriage and sat down. Your eyes followed him as he turned to you.

“…” He was still silent, his gaze dropping down towards the ground.

Cold sweat was beginning to form on your forehead. Seeing Zephyr so quiet and emotionless was concerning if not alarming. “Zephyr?” You called out, leaning in closer until you came into his peripheral, hoping that would finally catch his attention and prompt him to say what was on his mind.

He finally looked back up before reaching over to you. He grasped onto the hem of your veil and lifted it, revealing your golden eyes to him. “You’re worrying me, Zephyr. What is it?” You asked, furrowing your eyebrows. You grabbed onto Zephyr’s hands that were still holding your veil. “Why are you taking it off?” Zephyr simply shook his head and let go but not before making sure it wouldn’t fall back down and cover your face.

“I just…want to see your face, Lady (y/n). Just for a bit.” Zephyr explained, a small smile finally gracing his lips. You frowned, not convinced it was as simple as that. He took a breath before finally speaking. “Lady (y/n), no matter what happens when you meet with the queen and prince later,” He held your hands in his. “Please remember you’re already doing your best."

You blinked. “…What?”

Zephyr pulled you close and embraced you, pressing your head against his chest. He stroked your hair gently. You could hear his heartbeat through his chest, slow and steady. It'd even be calming if it weren't for the current situation. “You don’t have to fix every problem this kingdom has.” You looked up from his chest, eyes swirling with confusion. You pushed yourself off him. Zephyr doesn’t stop you but his arms remain in a loose hug around you.

“What does that mean?” Zephyr sighed and closed his eyes. “…The politics of Ebreau is more complicated than you think, Lady (y/n).” He reopened his eyes and his purple irises stared back into your golden ones. Unlike his, your heart was pounding inside of you, threatening to burst from the stress but you pushed on, knowing this was important. You had to know more. “Tell me then. Shouldn’t I know how this country functions if I am to guide its people?” You pestered for him to elaborate. You unconsciously gripped onto his robe, tensed about what he’ll say. Just how many more challenges were you going to face?

Zephyr’s hands went up to your face and cupped your cheeks. He leaned down, shortening the gap between both your faces. “The relationship between the royal family and the temple…isn’t as great as it seems.” Zephyr confessed. The cheering outside continued on even after your retreat into the carriage but right now, you wished it would stop so you could have some silence to process this information. You tried your best to respond. “What…what happened?”

Zephyr let go of your face before peeking out the blinds. You looked out the small opening between the blinds and windows over his shoulder. The people continued to celebrate the procession outside, their voices not appearing to die down any time soon. He readjusted the blinds and blocked out the people once more. He took a deep breath.

“Things started to get messy 3 years ago. After the war with the Casvians began." Zephyr recalled. "As with all wars, the kingdom has suffered many losses from this ordeal, including but not limited to economic downfalls and disharmony among its people." You nodded. That makes sense...But how did that cause the deterioration of the relationship between the temple and the Royal family?

"Much of Ebreau's money and resources have been sent to the front line in the northeast to aid in the battle with Casviren. The Royal family only has so much money to spare now and they cannot effort to spend it on unnecessary groups or organisations." He fidgeted in his place. It was clear this was a sensitive and top secret topic. You could see glints of worry reflected in his eyes as he spoke. Zephyr was afraid of this information being leaked to the public.

"The temple maintains the people's belief in our Lord, Calerus, ensuring their undying loyalty to him. A common religion fosters unity and reduces dispute among the people as everyone shares the same principle and belief." Zephyr elaborated. You processed his words, keeping your head bowed in thought before asking. "So, basically, the temple is responsible for keeping the peace among the citizens?"

"Yes, that's a good way to put it." A smile graced Zephyr's lips, easing the tension in the air. "But many tragedies have occurred. Much blood has been spilled and even more tears have been shed. The war has raged on for too long and too fiercely. It has made a grave impact on the people, not just economically but also spiritually." He sighed. "They are starting to lose faith. Some even believe Calerus has abandoned Ebreau." Zephyr played with your hair. It appeared unfitting of the situation at first but looking at how he was rubbing and pinching the tip of it instead of twirling it like how he usually does, you guessed he was doing it out of anxiety and not playfulness.

Your mind spun as you tried to piece together the information. You never knew the beliefs of Ebreauans were waning. Have you just not been out and about enough? Surely not. You ran errands everyday for the past 2 years. You were always outside and mixing with the folks. Then that means either you're an unobservant idiot or you've never seen Ebreau when it was still prosperous.

The war started 3 years ago and you only got dropped here 2 years ago. 1 year may not be enough to put a dent, economy wise in a kingdom as wealthy as Ebreau but you don't doubt it's enough to instill fear and cause hysteria among the people.

Perhaps you've never seen the true glory of Ebreau.

Perhaps you've jumbled the chaos with the mundane.

Perhaps this madness has become your normal.

"The temple is losing influence, is that what you're saying?" You muttered and, to your dismay despite expecting it, Zephyr nodded. "Our Lord, Calerus," he sighed, "is no longer a tie that binds the nation together." He looked away before closing his eyes. "We no longer have the means to maintain the peace like we used to." It hurt him to admit this.

"..." You were deep in thought and thankfully, Zephyr was more than willing to give you space to process everything.

People are scared and confused. The war with the Casvians has gone on for 3 years already and currently, it still shows no signs of stopping. The commonfolks are grasping at anyone and anything for guidance in this desperate time. They look towards those in charge, in this case, the Royal family and the temple for assurance and direction, for a spark of hope that they will get through this. But when that fails...

It's not going to end well for the higher ups.

Zephyr took a deep breath and continued. "The palace considers us inept and are an extra weight that burdens them when they already have so much on their hands." The carriage rattled as it went over, what you assume to be, a rock. "Communication between the temple and palace has decreased to when absolutely necessary over the years and collaborations happen only to uphold the act that Ebreau is co-ruled by the temple and royal family." He explained further.

"I..." Zephyr paused midsentence and your breath hitched, awaiting what terrible news he will relay on you next. "I expect them to cut ties with us soon." You suppressed the urge to jump out the carriage this instant and run back to the temple-no, back to the small, little house you rented before you became Messiah. Before everything went haywire.

You buried your face into your hands. This was all too much. It went from bad to worse to horrible. It's been a constant downward spiral these back few days.

Don't cry, (y/n). Don't cry.

A pair of arms wrapped around you and pulled you towards their chest. Zephyr hugged you as he caressed you. His hand going up and down your back as he comforted. "I'm sorry to burden you with so much, Lady (y/n)." You felt him gripping onto your clothes. "I don't expect you to fix these problems. They've been festering for too long." He kissed your head.

"Maybe this country is already beyond salvation."

Your hands felt weak and fell from your face as he murmured into your ear. This kingdom... Ebreau... Your home...

How do you save it?

~✟~

The palace was just in view as the horses trotted closer, leading the carriage from the cobblestone road of the central town to the tiled pathway within the castle compound. Royal guards dressed in their white uniforms continued to stand guard beside the pathway just as they did when you were still on the streets of the central town. However, now with the revelation that people from the palace have a sour (to put it nicely) relationship with the temple, the blank stares of these men felt a lot more menacing and frightening than they previously were.

You met eyes with a certain guard on duty beside the pathway and it could be paranoia speaking but you swore there was ill intent behind those eyes. A chill ran down your spine as you quickly adverted your eyes to elsewhere.

Zephyr was still seated next to you, not moving despite already finished telling you the situation with the Royal family. You didn't mind though, you needed the emotional support for what was about to come.

The palace was mostly white in colour, its roof golden and its doors wooden but painted with silver, so were the window frames. As you inched closer, you could make out figures standing in front of the main entrance.

You gulped.

The carriage came to a stop. Zephyr stepped out first before holding his hand out for you to take. You slowly reached over, scooting towards the open door before stepping down the steps of the carriage, your hand in his.

Your heart was racing and you mentally counted to yourself before lifting your head to meet the gazes of the people before you.

“Messiah, we are so delighted that you’re here.” A silky and smooth voice poured from the mouth of the woman in front of you. The woman had light brown hair, done up into a side bun which hung low and near to her face. She wore a light blue gown, embellished with white pearls and clear crystals around the waist and also the skirt of the gown. She smiled, a few wrinkles appearing around the corners of her ruby eyes. “I am Marika Sinnyala.” She introduced herself, leaving out her title.

Queen.

Marika held up her hand and gestured to the person standing beside her. A younger man, tall and slim. He wore a uniform similar to the royal guards except his was silver, not white and there were some black embroidery around the collar. He had the same red eyes and a face resembling hers albeit it was more masculine. It wasn’t hard to tell who he was and what his relationship with Marika is.

“This is my dear son, Xion Sinnyala.”

The prince strode over, his white hair bouncing gently on his head. A mark of royalty as some would say. As was gold the colour of the divine, white was the colour of royalty. The Sinnyala family had ruled Ebreau for centuries alongside the temple. A striking characteristic of the Sinnyalas were their white as snow hair. It’s speculated that that’s why white symbolises royalty. It wouldn’t be far fetched that as time went on, Ebreauans associated that colour with power and luxury. Most past rulers of the kingdom had that colour of hair after all.

Even the late king.

Xion stopped right in front of you. He reached for your hand, grabbing onto it as he leaned down. His touch was feathery light, you could barely feel it.

It was almost as if he was avoiding touching you.

You resisted the urge to pull your hand back as he pressed a soft kiss on the back of your hand. His other hand rested behind his back. To outsiders, it may have appeared as a friendly gesture. A greeting from a prince to a maiden. Gentlemanly and almost fairytale like. You admit. Something like this, normally would get your heart racing and cheeks flushing.

But Xion, he was staring right at you as he did so.

The mother and son pair may share the same coloured eyes but Queen Marika’s were soft and friendly as she greeted you. Prince Xion, on the other hand, his eyes were piercing and fierce, his gaze felt like a glare. His actions seemed gentle and welcoming but the look in his eyes said otherwise.

You suddenly felt grateful for the veil you were wearing as your lips trembled.

His soft lips finally left your skin but he did not stand back up. Still in a bowed position, his voice, low and crisp, sounded.

“I’ve been waiting for you, Messiah.”

Another voice echoed from within the deep chambers of your mind at the same time, almost overlapping with the prince’s.

“Beware the Heretics.”

~✟~

Ahhhh done! Finally! This chapter was so hard to write since it was less action and more lore heavy. But finally it’s done! I was supposed to get this up yesterday but my body straight up went “hey wouldn’t it be funny to make her sick?” So yeah. That kinda slowed me down a bit. Sorry and thank you for waiting! I hope you enjoyed ^^

Ps: I decided to change the colour for Messiah from blue to orange since it suited better so I’ll go back and change the ones in previous chapters afterwards. Oh and again, any errors you find, let me know so I can correct them!

~

Taglist

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please tell me if I missed anyone!

[milf-harrington]

i just haven't met you (yet)

alright here's your bloody part two, jesus christ ♡

part one

----

The door unlocked with a series of clunking pops before Steve even registered the sound of boots on the porch.

The cabin was too deep in the woods to avoid regular visitors and the area was boobytrapped enough to discourage anyone else, but still, Hopper frowned disapprovingly at the back of El's head when the door swung open before he reached it.

"You're meant to wait until I knock."

She twisted around to see him over her shoulder, blood smudged under her nostril. "Why?"

The police chief sighed, closing the door behind him and re-engaging each lock by hand. A plastic bag dangled from his fingers.

"Because I could'a been anyone- someone dangerous."

"But you are not."

"But I could have been."

It was a conversation they had often, and this time Steve welcomed it, sinking further into the couch and hoping to avoid any possibility of Hop bringing up the walkie incident.

El had spotted the bag, climbing to her feet in a graceless un-piling of arms and legs.

Thanks to the combined efforts of both their appetites, the pizza cooling on the stove was the third of the night, but Steve knew she'd still be gorging herself on eggo's as soon as she got her hands on them. That girls stomach was an endless abyss, apparently.

Hopper didn't even get a chance to put the bag down before El was rummaging through it, and Steve huffed fondly.

Mistake.

Hopper's eyes flicked up to meet his, mustache twitching, and Steve groaned, leaning his head back against the couch and hiding his face in his hands.

"Can we just forget it happened?" He pleaded.

El, bright yellow boxes piled in one arm, looked between them. "Forget? Why are we forgetting?"

Before Steve could come up with a clever diversion, Hopper was already ruffling her hair and heading for the kitchen. "Your brother embarrassed himself on the radio earlier."

El blinked and tilted her head. "What did you do?"

Steve whined, mortification still simmering in his belly. "I asked if the guy Hop arrested was cute, and he heard it."

"Why is that embarrassing?"

"I wasn't arresting him."

Steve straightened up, ignoring El's question in favour of Hopper's reveal.

"You weren't?"

So, he hadn't called a criminal cute?

Hopper didn't look at him, preoccupied with lifting a slice of pizza free from the tray. "You know how those rich types are-"

Steve grimaced in agreement.

"- they think anyone who's not up to their standards is up to no good."

Something settled in Steve's stomach and he picked at the pizza crust under his nails.

He hadn't called a criminal cute.

"So why'd you take him to the station?"

Hopper grunted, mouth and plate full as he dropped it on the table. El remained in the kitchen, watching the toaster with her chin resting on the back of her hands.

"Protocol mainly. I got his statement about what he was doing in that area, then let him call his uncle to pick him up."

The toaster popped and the tv flickered when El startled. Steve cracked a smile.

"Look," Hopper sighed at the ceiling. "Munson is a pain in the ass, and I've hauled him in for possession more often than I'd like, but he's a good kid."

He shot Steve another grin as El settled beside him with her plate of waffles, and Steve got a bad feeling.

"Don't worry, though. I told him you're cute too."

El caught the pillow before it could knock over the salt shaker, freezing it in mid-air before letting it drop silently to the hardwood.

[hazelfoureyes]

Research

Bee’s Lucifer/Hazbin AU on Twitter got me so riled up for Raphael. So… go check out her posts and what has happened to Angel Luci and then read this little research trip.

「Warnings/Promises: Raphael x Angel Luci, pussy and cock in mouth at the same time baby, blowjob, adorable Luci, tingles, tachycardia, dangers of being locked out of heaven」

minors I will portal you to a boring pocket dimension if you interact

Angel Anatomy by _LuLuLamb on Twitter! Go to her page to see Raphael and Angel Luci so you can better enjoy this smut!

Sneaking away from heaven was simple enough, because no one paid attention to anything in heaven that wasn’t immediately self-serving. Raphael gone? Probably holed up adding notes to his notes or something redundant.

When Luci had reached out to him in a tizzy, he felt compelled to atleast check out the poor angel. Not to mention the research implications, if what the panicked peach’s messages implied rang true.

He had plenty of theories on the subject of angelic sexual intercourse but no evidence. Which was immensely frustrating. 

Luci was remarkably naked when Raphael portaled into their rendezvous spot. It seemed the deflowered angel couldn’t return to heaven, so a pocket dimension was the second best place. 

“You could have been dressed for this.” Raphael set his bag down.

“Raph!” Tears welled in those big blues, “It hasn’t felt right since—,” a deep golden blush lit Luci’s face.

Since—?

Raphael waited for Luci to finish the sentence but the smaller angel just buried his face in his hands and spread his legs. 

The doctor’s lip was drawn into a bite, nothing happening was remotely close to protocol. With a sigh and a practiced pinch to the bridge of his nose he knelt between the trembling knees. 

“I’m sure it’s fine. Worrying so much is worse for your health than a little stimulation.”

He was wholly unaware of the events leading up to Luci’s call for help. A little stimulation? Yes and the Big Bang was a tad of spilt milk on the cosmic countertop. 

As he peeled open the white and blue wings, he came face to face with… a very standard angelic anatomy. Small cock, gold kissed lower lips. Nothing remotely noteworthy. Raphael tenderly set the wings back down, “Luci, you’re fine.”

“I know it looks fine, but the inside is so hot. And there’s almost an itch.” Raphael nodded absentmindedly, the heat was from increased blood flow. Luci’s hands came to his lap, two fingers pressing softly into his entrance, “But not an itch! Does that make sense? It only feels better when I do this,” Raphael fell back on his ass when he saw those digits enter Luci. 

Noteworthy! 

“You won’t understand, Raphy…here, I can show you a little.” Luci crawled between Raphael’s legs, hands finding his belt. 

As his glasses slid down his nose Raphael let one hand push them up and another press away at Luci’s surprisingly strong form.

“I’d like to go home after this check-up, thank you very much!”

Luci’s bright eyes and mega-watt smile beamed at him as his hands continued to remove the belt and undo the button. “Oh don’t worry! I won’t,” a pause as he looked up for the exact words Lucifer had said, “tongue fuck your prostrate.”

A shriek behind clenched teeth, Raphael’s glasses tumbling off his face and dangling around his neck. 

“You see, the great thing about science is,” Raphael’s hand’s pushed again at Luci’s head as the angel lowered it to his lap, “you don’t need experience to,” his grip loosened on the white blonde hair as his own mint tinted wings were pulled open, “uh, we can still treat patients with the research of oth-,” the word floated from his mouth as Luci’s lips made contact, threatening to reach heaven. A new sensation, warm and wet as his still soft cock was engulfed in the smaller angel’s mouth.

Those once protesting hands raked through Luci’s soft hair, betraying their master’s muttered, “wait— now, hold on.”

Luci’s head popped up, chin shining, “But Raphy there’s more. You’ll understand the tingling for sure”. He returned the growing member to his mouth, taking him to the hilt and letting his long tongue lap at the twitching entrance beneath.

With his head tossed back, Raphael could see his halo jumping to life with the tachycardia Luci had induced. A foreign feeling entirely at his center. He’d handled himself before, but he’d never had something so hot and all encompassing on him. As for the tongue, he had absolutely zero practice to prepare him for the feeling of Luci’s strongest muscle licking incessantly at his cunt. Without intention his knees came up and knocked at the newly fallen angel’s sides.

The back of his hand acted as a physical barrier for the sounds he was biting back. How was Luci’s throat doing that? The sensitive head of his cock caressed by silky and undulating flesh. With his eyes rolling up, vision removed from the equation, his brain was confident he was 90% dick and pussy. The rest of his body was offline. A small rush of precum from both doted on holes made him scramble up, body folding over Luci’s head. 

Luci was careful with his prodding, not entering Raphael’s heaven worthy cunt. He didn’t want the valued doctor locked out, too. 

The air stung his wet sex when Luci withdrew. Thinking it was over, Raphael laid on his back to catch his breath, “I’d hazard a guess, as I don’t have the same tingles as you described-.” Once again he was cut off, broad tongue swiping from his leaking pussy to his dripping cock head. 

Back now arching, Raphael’s hands clawed at the nothing of the space they’d created. He recognized the tightening in his stomach and thighs. He needed to get out from under the angel. But when Luci’s head returned to bob up and down with an even rhythm, still running his tongue between his flushed folds, he couldn’t find the will to move away. Conversely, his hips began to buck up into the heat. 

He was quite confident he could get closer to orgasm and then back away, he told himself. After all, Raphael is an archangel! A creature of resolve! A divine creation of knowledge! 

And this was knowledge. He was learning. In fact he dared call this a research expedition. 

The creeping tension was coming stronger than he had ever felt before. Luci sensed a pang of pride in his chest as the doctor’s stiff member began to jump and twitch. A finger came to rub around Raphael’s other unused hole, smearing saliva and precum around the virginal ring of muscle.  Raphael scrambled under him once again, finding the willpower to push Luci by the forehead off of his cock.

Luci let out a small yelp, surprised when his face was painted with Raphael’s release.  Humming with satisfaction, he wiped the spend from his cheeks and eyes. He did it! 

The still innocent angel leaned up and clapped his hands together, “Now, you’re gonna feel the tingles. Then you can help me figure out what’s wrong!”

When he opened his eyes he realized Raphael was gone, he was alone with his sticky hands and…

“Where’s your belt?” Michael pointed at Raphael’s pants as the angel rushed past him.

“Tourniquet!” Raphael shouted, running into his office and collapsing at his desk. His line of sight was directly on his crotch, the tingles beginning to set in. But not on his prick as he had assumed Luci meant. No, in his still spasming cunt he felt an emptiness. A needling feeling something was lacking. Images of Luci’s fingers entering himself flashed behind his eyes. He shook away the intrusive thought and grabbed his pen. Raphael was determined to write about the sensations and bodily response while it was still fresh.

But as his hand moved along the paper, the letters got sloppier. Looser his grip became as he felt his head drawing to the desk. His eyes fluttered shut on the scene of his hand dropping the pen, barely making it to the part where Luci’s tongue grazed his vulva. And as his consciousness melted away and slipped down his spine, he swore he could feel the lingering heat of Luci’s warm mouth on his lap.

[nostalgebraist]

Steve DeCanio, an ex-Berkeley activist now doing graduate work at M.I.T., is a good example of a legion of young radicals who know they have lost their influence but have no clear idea how to get it back again. “The alliance between hippies and political radicals is bound to break up,” he said in a recent letter. “There’s just too big a jump from the slogan of ‘Flower Power’ to the deadly realm of politics. Something has to give, and drugs are too ready-made as opiates of the people for the bastards (the police) to fail to take advantage of it.” Decanio spent three months in various Bay Area jails as a result of his civil rights activities and now he is lying low for a while, waiting for an opening. “I’m spending an amazing amount of time studying,” he wrote. “It’s mainly because I’m scared; three months on the bottom of humanity’s trash heap got to me worse than it’s healthy to admit. The country is going to hell, the left is going to pot, but not me. I still want to figure out a way to win.”

Re-reading Hunter S. Thompson's 1967 article about Haight-Ashbury, I thought: "huh, this guy sounds like he's going places. I wonder whether he ever did 'figure out a way to win'?"

So I web searched his name, and ... huh!

My current research interests include Artificial Intelligence, philosophy of the social sciences, and the economics of climate change. Several years ago I examined the consequences of computational limits for economics and social theory in Limits of Economic and Social Knowledge (Palgrave Macmillan, 2013).  Over the course of my academic career I have worked in the fields of global environmental protection, the theory of the firm, and economic history.  I have written about both the contributions and misuse of economics for long-run policy issues such as climate change and stratospheric ozone layer protection.  An earlier book, Economic Models of Climate Change: A Critique (Palgrave Macmillan, 2003), discussed the problems with conventional general equilibrium models applied to climate policy. From 1986 to 1987 I served as Senior Staff Economist at the President’s Council of Economic Advisers. I have been a member of the United Nations Environment Programme’s Economic Options Panel, which reviewed the economic aspects of the Montreal Protocol on Substances that Deplete the Ozone Layer, and I served as Co-Chair of the Montreal Protocol’s Agricultural Economics Task Force of the Technical and Economics Assessment Panel. I participated in the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change that shared the 2007 Nobel Peace Prize, and was a recipient of the Leontief Prize for Advancing the Frontiers of Economic Thought in 2007. In 1996 I was honored with a Stratospheric Ozone Protection Award, and in 2007 a “Best of the Best” Stratospheric Ozone Protection Award from the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency. I served as Director of the UCSB Washington Program from 2004 to 2009.

I don't know whether this successful academic career would count as "winning" by his own 1967 standards. But it was a pleasant surprise to find anything noteworthy about the guy at all, given that he was quoted as a non-public figure in a >50-year-old article.

[livin4woso]

Breaking the media

Chapter 6- You're okay now

The days after had been hard yet you had managed to keep yourself under control and almost push the incident in the past. Alexia had advised you took the next few days of however you didn't want to miss training before the first game you weren't promised to play but there was a good chance you were making it to the bench. Like normal training was enjoyable but this time it was different all the girls had to do a weekly check with the physio just to make sure nothing was wrong and everyone was up to standard for the match. You had thought nothing of it as you had made your way into the room and were greeted by the physio "hola y/n" he said as you sat on to the medical bed. You had been here quite a few times so you knew what the protocol was just testing muscle tightness and how well your joints were working.

The first half was going smoothly until he placed his hand on your upper thigh just where the man had a week prior. The memory flashback in your mind as you became panicked and you curled up in ball hiding your face from him hyperventilating. The physio was frozen in what to do he couldn't just leave you but he couldn't console you either so he did the next best thing and went to where the girls were sat waiting for thier appointment "guys i have a slight issue, i was just doing movement checks and when i put my hand on y/ns leg shes gone... i guess panicked im not sure" he said staring at the girls almost blankly. Alexia had heard this and she bolted straight to the room where she found you a curled up ball sobbing. Yet you almost look terrified the air wasn't coming in or out it was stuck making your panic worse than before "hey pequeña, im here its okay can i hold you" she asked walking towards you. Then no response came you were so trapped in your mind it was hard to snap you out of it. Alexia had no clue what to do so she did what she thought best call for ingrid she had her fair share of panic attacks and was sure she knew what to do.

Ingrid had recived the text from alexia and she swiftly moved herself from the arm chair she was sat on to the the physio room. She opened the door and it was exactly what she feared it was the feeling where nothing is going in or out and everything is overstimulating from the feeling of your clothes to just the loose hairs whisping off your neck. She sprung herself into action she knew how to deal with panic attacks but ones caused by something so triggering and from recently she didn't know much about. "Y/n can you look at me" she said while crouching at your level still there was no response it was like you were in your own world one surrounded with thoughts of him and the way his words spat at you the way he stared as though you were an object. She waited a couple seconds and began to repeat her question but still no response came from you only the sound of your laboured breathing. Ingrid was almost lost for anything to do she was completely out of luck and she felt a dash of worry for you as your condition didnt change, therefore it lead to doing the only thing she knew what to do. 'Y/n im going to touch your hand okay" she said reaching her hand out slowly towards you and she placed it on your shaking hands you look down and instead of the expecting reaction of you holding it and breaking out of your thoughts your mind was so clouded with him the thought of someone touching you was almost as bad. "GET AWAY FROM ME....PLEASE" you yelled standing up from the floor and the two girls swiftly followed you to thier feet.

There it was you looked into alexias eyes and the fear in her eyes almost crushed you and you just collapsed into her arms realising what you had done and it wasnt him it was your friend, your teamate who you'd just shouted at. You clung to her as though she was your life line "im sorry im so sorry i wont do it again" you repeated into her shoulder through sobs. Alexia just rubs her hands on your back and through your hair as her and ingrid glance at eachother of almost panic and a sense of relief. You finally calm down and let go of alexia the corner of her jumper drenched in your tears yet she makes no remarks you walk over to ingrid and hig her tightly "im so sorry for shouting at you i didnt mean it i promise" you say burried into her shoulder "its okay love i know you didn't" she says back to you. "However I think you should go home and get some rest" she added pulling out of the hug to see your tear stained face the tear tracks still prominent on your cheeks.

Alexia had excused herself for a minute to compose herself she was so built up with worry over you and the fact you hadn't said anything the past week had really bothered her but you were young and probably trying to put on a brave face for her. "Come on pequeña lets get you some sleep" she said putting her head round the corner of the door. You had made it back home when you had sat on the couch. "Ale can we watch a movie" you asked her "sure whatever you want" she replied joining you on the couch. You played your favourite movie and you didnt mean to but it just sort of happened as the movie progressed, slowly you made your way to alexias side and leant into her "is this okay?" You said in an almost whisper tone "of course pequeña" she said wrapping her arms around you and running her finger nails through your hair. You slowly adjusted into her side and the longer it went you fell asleep on alexias shoulder it felt like home and for alexia it felt like peace knowing you were safe and in arms reach.

[withahappyrefrain]

Summary: The pain medication given to Bob after a training accident has some interesting, albeit endearing, side effects.

As you weave your way through the people, desperate to make it to the front desk, the words kept playing over and over in your mind.

Training accident. Had to eject.

The strong possibility always hung over in your mind, taunting you whenever he went to work. That one day you would receive that dreaded phone call.

And while you didn't get that phone call today the fact you came close was unnerving.

Hurt pretty bad. Needed surgery.

Your throat felt thick, as though you were almost choking on air. It was a surprise you could audibly tell the nurse at the front desk your name.

"He's still in surgery, Mrs. Floyd. You can wait in the lobby and we'll alert you when he's done."

Nodding because of your fear that if you spoke, the tears would spill out, you sat down in the uncomfortable chair.

You tried to people watch, see if you could spot someone you knew, who Bob knew. Tell you what happened.

But did you really want those horrible details?

No. You wanted to know that your husband was okay. That he would recover. That he would be back in your arms, where he belonged.

You could call his mom and sister, let them know what was happening. It could be comforting to hear their voices.

But it would also remind you that your husband was hurt and you didn't know if he was okay.

So instead, your fingers fiddled with his wedding ring that hung on the silver chain around your neck. He always gave it to you when he had missions.

That way you had a piece of him if anything happened.

"Mrs. Floyd?" You looked up to see a nurse standing near you.

"Your husband is all done with his surgery, he's-"

"Is he okay? How did his surgery go? Can I go see him?" The nurse took a step back at your numerous questions.

"His surgery went well. He's currently hopped on a lot of medication to reduce the pain, so he may be out of it. Once the doctor is done, you can go see him."

The next ten minutes were somehow even worse. Knowing Bob was so close, but not able to see him was absolute torture.

You practically ran when the nurse said he was ready for visitors.

The sight of Bob, eyes closed as he laid in the hospital bed, bandages covering his arms, hooked up to an IV bag was heartbreaking. Despite his tall, broad frame, he looked so small in that bed.

Maybe you should sit by the bed and wait for him to wake up. What even are the standard protocols when your husband has to eject from his plane and gets injured in the process?

Your feet had a mind of their own, bringing you to the bed. Then your hands had their own idea, reaching up to card your fingers through his ruffled dark blonde locks.

His shifted towards your touch, those beautiful blue eyes still closed.

"Hey love," you whispered before pressing your lips to his forehead. Seeing the rise of his chest with each breath brought you comfort; he was here, he came back to you, just like he promised.

A confused, drowsy hum left his lips as his eyes slowly opened.

"Robby?" You should take a step break. Should give him space.

But how could you, when those eyes deeper than the ocean looked up at you?

"Robby!" You all but threw yourself at him, burying your head into his neck, the comforting scent of sage filling your nostrils, "I'm so glad you're safe, I was beside myself when they called."

"I-huh?" His voice was drowsy and full of confusion. Makes sense, considering when he was last conscious, he was in a fighter jet, thousands of feet up in the air.

"Doctors say if you keep up your current trajectory, you'll be able to go home tomorrow. Gives me time to get your favorite meal ready."

"Beef Goulash?" Bob mumbled, his eyebrows knitted in confusion.

"Of course! Your mom's recipe." You pressed your lips against one of his red cheeks before capturing his lips with yours. You couldn't help it. Your husband had survived, he was right there. How could you not kiss him?

"Am I in heaven?"

You couldn't help but laugh at Bob's question, shaking your head as you kissed him again.

"No Robby, you're at the Miramar Hospital."

Bob pulled away, confusion written all over his face, "But....you're an angel?"

You shook your head again, but without laughing this time, "Robby. You okay?"

"I.....I was in the air and Phoenix, she kept telling me to eject and I think I did? Then I woke up and you're....you're here and wow. You're stunning."

Your stomach fluttered at his compliment, "Of course I'm here," you grabbed the hand that wasn't hooked up to an IV bag, "What kind of wife would I be if I wasn't?"

Bob's nearly widened, "Wife? Did you say wife?"

Oh boy.

"Yes, I'm your wife. We got the rings and everything." You held up your hand, showing the gold wedding band, which matched the one Bob wore.

"We're married?" His eyes were as wide as saucers, hope and confusion dancing along those oceanic irises.

"We are. Have been for five years now."

"Five years?!" Bob put his hand over his heart, as if he were afraid of it jumping out of his chest, "Wow. I bet those five years have been wonderful."

"They have! And I will tell you all about them, after I get the nurse!"

You began moving to get up when a large hand grabbed yours.

"Wait!" You stopped to look at Bob, "Are you.....are you sure you're my wife? Not that I'm complaining it's just you're so beautiful and lovely and I....I'm....just Bob."

So the pain medication could make him temporarily forget you, but not his insecurities? Go figure.

"No, you are not just Bob. You are the smartest, sweetest, kindest, most amazing man I have ever met. You're a wonderful husband and father, and every day I'm thankful I get to wake up next to you."

A small albeit sweet lopsided smile appeared on Bob's face, before his eyes widened once again, "Wait....did you did you say father?"

You couldn't help but giggle, "Yes. You are the father to three cats, two dogs, a rabbit, and three amazing kids."

"I am? With you?" His body was practically buzzing with excitement. His eyes were shining so brightly as he looked at you in pure amazement.

"You are. In fact, we were working on our fourth kid before all this," You smiled slyly as your fingers reached over his forearms.

"We-oh. Oh. We were-we did-um, I'm just wow I'm just going to lie down, oh look there's a bed."

The nurses rushed in upon hearing the heart rate monitor increase.

One even asked, "What did you do?!"

"Told him he was married with children."

************************************

The next day, the nurses alerted you that after the pain medication had worn off, Bob did remember you as his wife.

According to them, he wouldn't stop talking about you.

"My wife! There she is!" You smiled at hearing Bob's cheerful voice, knowing he was there, safe and sound.

"Hey hot stuff, you ready to go home? Mack has been asking when you'll show the Wizard of Oz," you paused, "You know Mack? Our daughter?"

Bob chuckles while shaking his head, "Yes. I remember all my children, as well as my amazing wife."

"Good, though I was looking forward to you recreating our first date. Was hoping you would kiss me this time."

Bob pulled you into his lap, his hands cupping your face, "Guess I'll just have to kiss you for the rest of my life to make up for it."

His lips pressed against yours briefly before moving to your cheeks, then your forehead, then to your nose.

"I think I can deal with that," you giggled as he continued to pepper your face with light kisses.

"Me too darlin. Me too."