#green light debt relief

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[not-my-final-account]

Danny is Gotham

“Are we safe now ghost boy?” Paulina asked

“Yes we’re fine,” I would usually be nicer but I had a whole evening planned before some ghost threw Paulina into the ghost zone for No Apparent Reason! Besides, something had been tugging at my core all day, I just couldn’t place it and it was getting annoying!

“We have to-” I cringed over in pain and it felt as though my core hada been shoved under tones of pressure.

I gasped for breath

“-ost boy! Ghost boy!” Paulina asked, getting incresingly worried. I grunted “Ghost boy are you okay?!” she asked

“Fright knight, gaurd Paulina.” I grunted, and then I flew off.

I flew towards my city, my haunt. My knight. My bird. I didn’t really understand what was going on but something was wrong, horribly wrong, with my bird, he was asking for help and I was going to answer.

I summoned a portal and flew through into some place, but where I was didn’t matter. I was looking at some pennywise rip off hurting MY BIRD!!! and I saw green.

-

I carried my bird out and held him in my arms, using my ectoplasm to heal him. “Shh, it’s okay. I’m going to bring you to your dad, you’re going to be alright.” I reassured

“Dad?” my bird asked weakly

“Your dad.” I reassured

“W-who are?” my bird tried to asked

“I’m Gotham.” I said “I owe you a great debt little bird.” I said “Healing my city, I’m so proud of you.” I cooed

“I- I didn’t fail you?” he asked hopefully

“You could never fail me, or your dad.” I told my bird.

-

I was stressing, I pulled my cowl on and off, Batman couldn’t help, Batman never helped and now Jason was gone! Jason was gone. Jason Was Gone. JASON WAS GONE. JASON WA- the door opened.

I spun around to see the silhouette of Gotham hovering in the air

“Gotham, Joker he-” I froze as Gotham stepped into the light. He was carrying Jason and dripping in blood- not either of their blood either.

“If you’ll excuse me, there’s a clown I have unfinished buisness with.” Gotham said, so calmly.

Gotham seemed calm, and yet the city raged. The earth shook in barely supressed rage, the sky thundered in booming claps like a clock ticking, the ocean roared in fury and unyielding anger, the wind shrieked and howled in grief. Gotham was angry.

-

“D-dad?” Jason sat up and I nearly sobbed in relief “Dad, Gotham saved me.” Jason said, he looked at the blood on the floor “Dad what happened to Gotham?!” Jason asked worriedly

“Gotham is fine. I’m more worried about what he’s going to do.” I said

“He’s going to kill Joker.” Jason stated, then he tilted his head “You’re not going to try stop him.”

“I don’t think anyone can stop Gotham.” I said honestly.

[gwaynewantstofuckcriston]

I owe you - Criston Cole x Gwayne Hightower

Explicit, mlm, oral sex, angst, set after 2x03, enemies to lovers, fast burn, open ending.

Criston yanked off his armor, the squire attending him. He was pissed. Beyond pissed. Alicent had sent him her uppity green boy of a brother to babysit him. It wounded him, down deep. He was already stressed beyond relief, and Aegon impulsively appointed Criston as hand. Just the icing on the lemon cake. He sent his squire off with an aggravated hand.

Gwayne was quiet since they’d hidden in the woods, their encampment having to hide under the cover of night, almost getting burnt by Daemon’s spawn on a dragon. The fool was going to a fucking inn. An inn for fucks sake, was he daft or just that self-absorbed?

The beleaguered man couldn’t bring himself to be that angry at Alicent, her control was slipping more and more every day. He thumbed her favor, inhaling it before tucking it away. Criston’s dark eyes cast to his sullied cloak, lips turning down. His thoughts were dark, swirling, and hard to define. It made him angry, full of rage.

Must he be so weak of heart all the time? Failing his duties yet getting promoted to a position he couldn’t possibly execute, but he took it, Criston always took it from the crown he served. His leg was tapping restlessly, hands clenching and unclenching.

Perhaps Alicent was right. They were cursed and doomed. What even was honor or duty these days? He took off his undershirt and pants, washing himself with the small basin of water they collected. No amount of water or scrubbing would scrape the filth from his body.

Common, half-dornish, impulsive, lustful filth.

A ruffling of his tent flaps alarmed him, glaring at the sound, brows furrowed. He called out, “Who the fuck is it? I’m not on watch yet.”

A voice replied, the irritating lofty accent of the Hightower fucker. “I’m merely trying to talk, may I enter?” Criston tugged on his breeches, frowning heavily. He growled, “Come in then.”

Gwayne’s light reddish hair entered, his haughty blue eyes gazing at Criston. He looked like Otto in a way, smug looks and smirks. The Marcher grimaced, demanding, “What? I’m trying to get some rest.”

The lordling gave him a look, eyes looking through him, that same smile he bestowed back in King’s Landing. Like he wanted to eat Criston alive…before flipping on a coin to lob insults. He demanded again, voice lowering, “I asked you a question, Ser. What do you need?”

Gwayne’s smirk faltered, his eyes turning downwards. He murmured, “I came to thank you. For saving my ass. I’d seen my nephew's dragon, but never one trying to kill me.” Criston scoffed, “Be prepared for more.” He paused, leveling the younger knight with a look, “You’re quite green aren’t you? Never seen a battle, flouncing around tourneys. Left alone from your father.”

Gwayne’s fairer skin blushed as he protested, “I’m finely trained, I just didn’t expect that. I’m trying to thank you, not argue!” He frowned, eyes gaining that piercing nature of Alicent. Criston stepped forward, sizing up the slim frame of the man.

Hightower as they come, willowy and graceful. Criston could easily take him down.

He laughed bitterly, “You know nothing of spilling blood. I’ve fought in battles before you touched live steel. Fighting off the Dornish.” Gwayne was a little shorter than Criston, swallowing audibly, blue eyes flickering. He couldn’t focus, eyes darting to the older man’s face and bare chest.

“Where’s my apology then, Hightower? So far you’ve come in and stammered, Alicent has more gall than you.”

Gwayne frowned, eyes narrowing as he slowly stated, “I apologize for suggesting such a foolish thing, leaving us exposed. I owe you a debt, Lord Commander.” Criston gripped his shoulder, smirking, “You’d be best to listen if you wish to keep your pretty face.”

The redhead inhaled sharply, pupils expanding. He breathed, “I see how you’ve bewitched my sister.” Criston raised a brow, gripping harder, “Mind yourself.” Gwayne shivered, mouth falling open, his pink lips wet.

Why did he want to force this pretty boy down? Criston was depraved enough. He shoved down his guilt over Alicent, did she even care? He didn’t know.

His breath deepened, studying the lordling. Gwayne stammered, “I can repay the debt some more, let me, you’re so damn tense.” Cole cocked his head, voice darkening, “How will you do that, Hightower? Rub my shoulders? You’re starting to make me think you frequented those pillow houses for men in Oldtown.”

Gwayne inhaled sharply, placing a calloused hand on Criston’s chest, thumbing his gold necklace, cheeks darkening by the second. He made a soft sound as a tan hand slid to the side of his pulsing throat, thumb swiping up and down his rapid pulse point.

“I- I’ll show you things I know sister dearest doesn’t allow. Keeps you on a tight leash doesn’t she,” Gwayne rasped, desperation lacing his voice. He was panting, licking his lips.

“Don’t speak of her grace, she’s not depraved. Fine, show your skills.”

Criston yanked Gwayne by his silly doublet, shoving his lips against the lordling. He growled into the kiss, seeking that dominance he’d been denied. The redhead moaned, sweeter than he’d expected, arching into Criston’s touch.

It felt different, soft lips and tongues, lacking the plushness of the woman Criston had kissed. Gwayne was eager- hands running through Criston’s chest hair and firm pecs. He let Criston lap and bruisingly kiss him, making more soft moans.

He pulled back to ask, “Do you always moan like a whore?”

“Do you always kiss men like you’re starving for it?”

Criston jerked Gwayne’s head back by his hair, biting and kissing at pale, smooth skin. The lordling whined, hands digging into Criston’s waist. He panted, “Want to suck your cock, let me, let me, when’s the last time you had that? You act like you need to fucking cum.”

Criston smirked at the desperate begging, steady hands unbuttoning that doublet, commenting, “You wore this to a battle. Mayhaps you’d be better as my slut in the tent.” He rumbled with dark laughter as Gwayne gasped, heaving with arousal. His pretty pale chest and slim hips were revealed, flushed too.

Gwayne shrugged it off, falling to his knees as Criston backed onto his cot, thickened thighs spread wide, his swollen cock protruding through the pale fabric. Criston watched him with a pensive expression, eyes lingering on swollen lips and the pretty boy’s deft hands, long elegant fingers undoing his pants.

Gwayne mumbled, “Fuck- can’t believe I’m doing this. You’re inside my damn sister on the daily. But she’s not here is she?” Criston felt guilt, growling, “Get to it, I’d rather not dwell on that.” His hand thumbed at Gwayne’s lips, sliding a thick thumb across his wet lips.

Criston hissed as he was eased out of his breeches, throbbing prick thick and heavy. He knew he was a mouthful, long ago before he was bedding prim nobles. Gwayne wanted it, drooling spit on the tip of Criston’s dark cock.

He spat into his lithe hand, wrapping it around the girth, lashes fluttering as he blabbed, “You’re a thick one.” Criston breathed through his nose, shuddering when a hot, wet mouth enveloped his recently neglected prick. He let his head fall back, moaning lowly, hand gripping reddish waves.

The younger Hightower was eager, hollowing his cheeks and bobbing eagerly, hand moving in tandem as he sloppily drooled more. Criston shivered again, tightening his grip, moaning again. Fuck this was delicious. Bastard had a mouth on him.

Gwayne slipped his other hand down to the cup and squeezed gently at his sack, a thumb sliding across the seam, Criston gasping in surprise. The lordling smirked, flicking his tongue playfully, pulling the skin back as he lathered attention on the cockhead.

“Ahh- fuck- you’re wicked,” Criston breathed, pathetically trying to control his voice, finding it to pitch up as his ecstasy increased. His thighs were twitching, belly tight. Gwayne merely moaned like a slut, the vibrations sending the older knight reeling again. Gwayne’s blue eyes watched him, teary and pretty, lashes wet and clumped.

He swallowed down more of Criston’s cock, slick, slick drool sliding down to coat his sensitive balls. Gwayne merely thumbed and rubbed gently, Criston losing his edge, scrunching his face closed, mouth wide open.

He leaned back, overwhelmed, elbows feebly keeping the marcher upright as his current nuisance was eagerly shoving cock down his throat and whining like he was going to come. Criston’s back was arching as he panted, moans slipping from his wet lips.

He wanted to kiss more and was already thinking of fucking the pretty slip between his thighs into the ground.

“I- I’m close, Gwayne I’m close,” he warned, voice tight and eyes watering, hand pulling some.

The redhead eyed him again, eyes conveying for Criston to shut up. He sped his movement up, the noises obscene. Choked whimpering spilled from Gwayne’s stretched lips. His throat was wet and tight, flexing and swallowing. The lithe hand caressing Criston’s balls shifted, two of his long fingers sliding back.

The marcher looked at him wildly, Gwayne shaking his head, raising a brow. That little fox was NOT getting his hand near his ass. Maybe. Criston eased back, huffing again as his body was trembling, muscles drawing tight as ecstasy flowed through his tired body.

Curious fingers pressed upwards, into the soft spot behind his sack. Criston seized with a grunt, biting his lip as he swallowed down a pathetic noise, tiny whines leaving his lips. It was emasculating at how he was reduced to feminine trembling and spread thighs, the orgasm forcing him into submission. He pumped his thick load down the man’s throat, Gwayne swallowing eagerly, greedy with it.

He lathered attention until the marcher gasped, “Ah, no more, you’ve paid your debt, gods.”

Gwayne pulled off with a wet pop, grinning with swollen wet lips, lapping some spit from the corner of his mouth. He moaned, “Cat’s out the bag I guess, I like sucking cock. I like sucking yours, Lord Commander.” He patted Criston’s thigh, smug with his talented efforts.

The Lord Commander was exhausted, eyes lidded as he regarded Gwayne. He yawned, “Quite the cocksucker, with and without one in your mouth. What was that shite you pulled on me at the end?”

Gwayne leaned forward placing his arms on the older man’s legs. He smirked, haughtily humming, “Such a pity. Stuck to doing whatever your master tells you. It’s a good spot in your ass, makes a man twice your size squeal like a maiden.”

“Now, does Otto know your predilections?”

Gwayne shrugged, “He was away, focused on my sister getting on the rotted King’s lap. I grew up without stress or constant eyes, doing as I pleased. You’d benefit. Already more relaxed out here. Besides dragons and a war.”

Criston felt his chest tighten at the hard truth. The Red Keep was a prison, coated in gleaming paint. He grumbled, “You come?” Criston felt lethargic, lazily beckoning the knight.

“No, was pretty close,” he breathlessly laughed.

Gwayne crawled upwards, Criston watching him with a strange expression as the younger sat atop his thighs. Gwayne remained silent for once, blue meeting black. His hand slowly pulled at the strings on his breeches, waiting for a rebuttal.

“Don’t come on me. Take care of yourself, too pretty not to watch.”

Gwayne retorted, “Pull my cock or finger myself, my lord?” He grinned at the aghast look on Criston’s face, eyes wide, brows firmly set in surprise. He stammered, “I- just do what you want, make it quick.”

The lordling searched around, looking for some sort of grease or oil. He found a small jar of scented oil, raising a brow, teasing, “Did you nick this off my sister?” Criston smacked his thigh, frowning.

Gwayne poured a bit into his hand, setting the little jar back down. He slathered his pink cock, already ruddy and flushed from arousal, lips lax at the pleasure. Criston nipped his lip, taking in the sight. He growled, “Be a bit quieter, will you?”

Gwayne nodded, fisting himself rapidly, breath coming fast and hard. He whimpered softly, squirming as his hand teased the underside of the tip. The Hightower lad’s other hand slid back, massaging that spot he spoke of, lashes fluttering as he moaned helplessly, sweating.

The marcher couldn’t help but be enamored. Those damn siblings would kill him. Kill him. If the war didn’t first. He placed a hand on Gwayne’s slim thigh, gripping the meager flesh on the inside.

“Fuck- please- good,” Hightower panted.

Criston gripped his slim hip, eyes boring into blue, murmuring, “You’re shameless.”

Gwayne frantically looked for his tunic, grabbing it as he whimpered and shook, riding his fingers instead of working his cock before covering his prick with green. Criston smirked, the knight falling apart, thin chest heaving as he whimpered, shaking from head to toe as he emptied into the tunic.

The younger fell to his side, panting as he rolled on his back, Criston smirking, pleased with the submissive nature of Gwayne. He looked over, rumbling, “Consider this debt nonsense over. I’m expecting I’ll save your ass soon.”

Gwayne laughed breathlessly, eyes warm. He replied, “Eh, you’ll be seeking me out. Let me gather myself for a moment, don’t want to look too much of a mess.” He snorted, eyes on his soiled tunic.

Criston felt too tired to kick out the lad, eyes closing. He hummed, “Sure. Let me sleep and be gone in the morn, we have more to travel before sunrise.” He shoved the smaller man aside, rolling onto his side. The redhead smirked, moving over, stretching in satisfaction.

[mxnsterbabe]

Male Dragonborn/Female Reader SFW Wordcount: 4,586 Commissions | Ko-fi | Masterlist

You save A'rien's life. By dragonborn custom, he's in your debt.

It was late at night, and you were on your way back from a friend's house, the cool air brushing against your skin. The streets were unusually quiet, with only the soft rustling of leaves and the distant hoot of an owl to keep you company. You wrapped your cloak tighter around you, quickening your pace, eager to be home. 

A sudden noise caught your attention, a clatter of metal followed by a grunt of pain. You hesitated, glancing towards a narrow alleyway just ahead. Shadows moved, and you could make out the forms of two figures struggling. 

The hell was that?

As you neared the alley's entrance, you saw them more clearly. One was a dragonborn, his bronze scales glinting faintly in the moonlight, his form tall and imposing even as he dodged a punch from his opponent.

The other was an orc, his hulking frame dwarfing his opponent. The orc landed a heavy blow, and the dragonborn staggered, dropping to one knee. You watched in horror as the orc pinned him to the ground, a cruel smile spreading across his face.

You knew you had to do… something. Your mind raced, searching for a way to help. Without thinking, you grabbed a loose stone from the ground and hurled it at the orc. It struck his shoulder with a dull thud, not enough to injure but enough to draw his attention. The orc snarled, his grip on the dragonborn loosening as he turned to face you.

"Oi! What do you think you're doing?" the orc growled, his eyes narrowing as he took a step towards you.

Your heart pounded in your chest, but you stood your ground, meeting his gaze with as much defiance as you could muster. "Leave him alone!"

The orc chuckled darkly, but before he could take another step, the dragonborn took advantage of the distraction. With a burst of strength, he twisted beneath the orc, knocking him off balance. The orc stumbled, and the dragonborn surged up, delivering a swift punch to the orc’s jaw. The orc's eyes rolled back, and he collapsed to the ground, unconscious.

Breathing heavily, the dragonborn stood over the fallen orc, his eyes glowing with a mix of adrenaline and relief. He turned to you, his expression softening as he took in your form. "Are you alright?" he asked, his voice deep and resonant.

You nodded, still trying to catch your breath. "I think I should be the one asking you that."

He nodded, though his movements were slower, more measured. "I’m fine, thanks to you. I owe you my life."

You blinked, taken aback by his words. "It was nothing. I just... couldn’t stand by and do nothing."

He stepped closer, his gaze unwavering. "By dragonborn custom, a life debt is not nothing.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but the determination in his eyes stopped you. There was a sincerity there, a deep-seated honour that you couldn't dismiss. "Life debt," you said softly. "I’m not sure it’s that serious."

He took a step forwards, and for the first time you saw a glint of green in his copper eyes. “This idiot had me pinned, if you hadn’t come along… I hate to think what could have happened. I owe you my life.”

Your brows furrowed. “I don’t think that’s necessary.”

He inclined his head respectfully. "I must. It is our way."

You sighed, realizing there was no arguing with him. "I suppose there’s no convincing you. What’s your name?"

"A'rien," he replied, his voice steady and calm.

"Well, A'rien," you said, offering him a tentative smile. "I guess we should get out of here before your friend wakes up."

He chuckled, a low, warm sound that eased the lingering tension. "Agreed. Lead the way."

You walked side by side, the night air cool and quiet around you. A'rien walked with a calm assurance, his presence both comforting and intriguing. He glanced at you, his amber eyes glinting in the dim light. 

“Allow me to walk you home,” he offered.

You nodded, feeling a mix of gratitude and curiosity. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”

As you made your way through the winding streets, you couldn’t help but steal glances at A'rien. His bronze scales shimmered subtly under the moonlight, each one catching the light in a way that made him seem almost otherworldly. The edges of his sharp teeth glinted when he spoke, and it made your heart skip.

“So, why were you fighting an orc in an alley?” you asked, biting your bottom lip. 

A'rien’s expression turned slightly guarded. “It’s a long story. Let’s just say I’m not very popular in the orc community.”

You frowned, not satisfied with his vague answer. “Why not? What happened?”

He looked away for a moment, his gaze focused on the path ahead. “It’s complicated,” he said finally, a note of reluctance in his voice. “Orcs and dragonborn have a... history.”

Sensing his discomfort, you hummed. “Orcs have a history with just about everyone,” you replied softly. You turned a corner together, streetlights making his skin glitter. Turning your gaze away, you added, “they do love to pick fights.”

“We should report him to the guards.”

You walked in silence for a few moments, your thoughts racing. Despite his evasiveness, you felt a tug in your chest each time you glanced at A’rien. There was an allure in the way he held himself high, towering horns making him look even taller than he really was.

From the corner of your eye, you watched him as he surveyed the streets, ever vigilant. His features were strong and defined, with high cheekbones and a sharp jawline, a small underbite. Yet, there was a gentleness in his eyes when he looked at you, a softness that made your stomach flip.

Eventually, you spotted a pair of city guards patrolling a nearby street. You approached them, explaining the encounter with the orc. 

“He’s probably left by now,” A’rien said, “but keep a look out for him. Big orc, tattoo on his left wrist. His name is Solveig, I don’t know his surname.”

The guard’s brow furrowed, almost like he’d been expecting it. “Yeah, Solveig’s pretty well known around here. Known for starting fights after a few too many drinks. We’ll keep an eye out for thim.”

“Good. Thank you.”

A’rien stepped away, turning back to you with a sharp-toothed smile. “So, I promised to walk you home. Lead the way.”

Despite the unusual circumstances of your meeting, you couldn’t deny the comfort you felt in his presence. He was big and imposing. Solid. Walking through the dark streets together, you couldn’t imagine anybody wanting to mess with you.

“So, which way now?” A'rien asked, glancing at you with a small smile.

“My home is just a few more streets down,” you replied. “If you have somewhere else you need to be...”

He shook his head. “My only duty now is to repay my debt to you. I will ensure you get home safely.”

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. “Well since you can’t be convinced, thank you.”

As you continued walking, you found it increasingly difficult to ignore the growing attraction you felt for A'rien. There was something about the way he moved, the quiet strength he exuded, that drew you in. Each glance, each brush of his scales against your arm, sent a flutter through your chest.

“So, what brought you to this part of town tonight?” you asked, partly to distract yourself. Okay, entirely to distract you.

A'rien smiled slightly, his eyes glancing at you before returning to the path ahead. “Oh, nothing you’d be interested in hearing about.”

You nodded, not entirely satisfied with his evasiveness but willing to let it go because, well, it wasn’t any of your business. The night air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of blooming flowers and the distant hum of nocturnal life. It was peaceful, almost serene, and the presence of A'rien by your side made it all the more comforting.

As you neared your home, the streets became more familiar. A'rien seemed to sense your growing comfort and relaxed slightly, though his vigilance never entirely faded. Finally, you reached your door, pausing under the soft glow of a lantern.

“Thank you for walking me home,” you said, your voice a bit softer than you intended. “I appreciate it more than you know.”

A'rien’s gaze held yours, his amber eyes intense yet gentle. “It was my pleasure. Ensuring your safety is the least I can do.”

For a moment, the world seemed to narrow to just the two of you. The air between you crackled with unspoken words and possibilities. A'rien stepped closer, his towering form casting a protective shadow over you. You held your breath, your heart racing as he leaned down. For a second, you thought he might kiss you, and a rush of anticipation surged through you.

Instead, his hand reached up, his fingers brushing lightly against your cheek as he tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear. The touch was tender, almost intimate, and it sent shivers down your spine. His proximity, his scent—earthy and slightly metallic—filled your senses.

“Goodnight,” he murmured, his voice a deep, soothing rumble.

You swallowed, your throat suddenly dry. “Goodnight, A'rien.”

With a lingering smile, he straightened and stepped back, giving you space. You turned and unlocked your door, feeling his eyes on you as you slipped inside. The door closed softly behind you, and you leaned against it, your heart still pounding.

As you made your way to your bedroom, you couldn’t stop thinking about him. The memory of his touch, the intensity of his gaze, stayed with you, replaying in your mind like a cherished scene from a dream. You changed into your nightclothes and slipped into bed, the cool sheets frigid against your skin.

Lying in the quiet darkness, you found your thoughts drifting back to A'rien. His strength, his gorgeous copper eyes, the unexpected gentleness in his expression—all of it captivated you.

You fell asleep thinking of him, and slept through the night without waking.

***

The next morning, as you opened the door to step outside, you were startled to see A'rien standing there. His bronze scales gleamed in the early sunlight, and he looked as composed and alert as ever. You blinked in surprise, trying to make sense of his presence.

“A'rien, what are you doing here?” you asked, unable to hide your astonishment. “How did you know what time I’d be out?”

A'rien’s expression was calm and serious. “I’ve been waiting since dawn.”

You laughed lightly, thinking he must be joking, but the unwavering look in his eyes told you otherwise. “Really?”

He nodded. “It is dragonborn custom. I owe you a life debt. I am honor-bound to protect you.”

The weight of his words settled over you, and you felt a mix of emotions—flattery, curiosity, and a touch of amusement at his earnestness. “I see,” you said, trying to keep your tone light. “Well, I appreciate your dedication.”

He inclined his head respectfully. “May I walk you to wherever you’re going?”

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through you at his offer. “I’d like that. I’m heading to the apothecary.”

As you began walking together, town slowly waking up around you, you stole a glance at A'rien. He moved with a quiet grace, his eyes scanning the surroundings with vigilance. There was something incredibly reassuring about his presence, and you couldn’t help but feel a growing fondness for him.

“So,” you began, breaking the comfortable silence, “what does this life debt entail exactly?”

A'rien glanced at you, his expression thoughtful. “It means that until I have repaid my debt, I am bound to protect you, assist you in any way I can, and ensure your safety.”

You nodded, absorbing the gravity of his commitment. “That sounds like… a lot.”

He smiled slightly, a rare but welcome sight. “It is, but it is also an honour. Your act of saving my life binds us in a way that is deeply respected among my people.”

Yoru cheeks warmed at that. 

The streets became busier as you approached the apothecary, and A'rien’s presence seemed to draw curious glances from passersby. It wasn’t common to see dragonborn around here, you couldn’t blame them for staring.

Reaching the apothecary, you turned to face him, feeling a pang of reluctance at the thought of parting ways, even if only for a few hours. “Thank you for walking me here,” you said sincerely.

A'rien nodded. “It was my pleasure. I will wait for you here when you finish your work.”

You smiled, touched by his unwavering commitment. “I’ll see you then.”

He smiled, almost wistfully, eyes bright. “Yes, I will see you this evening.”

***

The days at the apothecary passed in a blur of activity. Despite the bustle, your thoughts often drifted to A'rien. His steadfast presence outside each morning and evening had become a reassuring routine. True to his word, A'rien was waiting when your workday ended, ready to escort you home.

As the days turned into a week, you found yourself looking forward to these walks more and more. Every morning, he was there, a quiet sentinel, and every evening, he walked you home, his presence a comforting constant in your life. His dedication was unwavering, his protectiveness almost endearing.

One evening, after another long day, you couldn’t contain your curiosity any longer. As you strolled through the streets with A'rien by your side, you glanced at him, your brow furrowing slightly. “A'rien, I’ve been meaning to ask… what do you do for work? You’re always available to walk me to and from the apothecary. Are you never busy?”

A'rien’s expression remained composed, but you could see a flicker of something—hesitation, perhaps—in his eyes. “I… have certain duties that I fulfill. Ensuring your safety is my primary concern at the moment.”

You stopped walking, turning to face him fully. “A'rien, you’ve been incredibly kind and dedicated, but I feel like I don’t really know much about you. I’m not asking for your whole life story. Just… a hint.”

He sighed softly, looking away for a moment. When he met your gaze again, his eyes were dark. “It’s not that interesting, really.”

You didn’t have much choice but to accept that at face value because, well, you couldn’t force him to tell you. So you nodded, and fell silent, and didn’t ask any more. You didn’t ask the next day either, instead simply admiring him from the corner of your eyes while he wasn’t watching.

You noticed the small things about him—the way his eyes softened when he looked at you, the way he listened intently to your every word, the subtle way he ensured you were always safe and comfortable. This wasn’t just obligation.

At least, you hoped not.

One evening, as you walked home, the sun setting in a blaze of colors, you felt a sudden rush of affection for A'rien. You stopped again, this time on a quiet street where the sounds of the city were distant murmurs.

“A'rien,” you said softly, looking up at him. “I want you to know how much I appreciate you. Your dedication, your kindness… it means a lot to me.”

He looked down at you, his expression tender. “It is my honor. Protecting you is not just a duty—it’s something I want to do.”

Without thinking, you reached out and took his hand. His scales were cool under your touch, rough and leathery. It brought a smile to your lips.

When you reached your door, you turned to face him, your heart pounding. “Goodnight, A'rien. I’ll see you in the morning?”

He smiled, a rare and beautiful sight. “Goodnight. I’ll be here.”

As you unlocked the front door, a sudden movement seemed to catch A’rien’s eye. His posture stiffened, and he held up a hand. “Be quiet,” he whispered, his voice tense and alert.

Confusion washed over you, quickly morphing into fear as you followed his gaze. Across the lawn, partially hidden by the shadows of the trees, was a hulking figure. Your heart sank as you recognized the orc from before—Solveig. This time, he was armed with a serrated knife that glinted in the faint light.

A'rien remained calm, but you could feel the tension radiating from him. Meanwhile, panic surged through you, your breath coming in short, shallow gasps as Solveig stepped forward, his eyes locked on you with a predatory gleam.

A'rien moved to stand between you and the advancing orc, his stance protective. “Stay behind me,” he murmured, his voice steady. He glanced back at you, his eyes filled with determination. “It seems I will repay my life debt sooner than anticipated.”

You nodded, too frightened to speak, your eyes wide as Solveig approached, his footsteps heavy and deliberate. The orc’s smile was cruel, his grip on the knife tightening as he prepared to strike.

With a growl, Solveig lunged forward, his knife aimed. A'rien met the attack head-on, his bronze scales catching the dim light as he braced himself for the clash. Your heart pounded in your chest, every muscle in your body tensed.

A'rien met Solveig's lunge with a swift, fluid spin, unsheathing two gleaming daggers in the blink of an eye. The blades clashed against Solveig's serrated knife, the sound of metal on metal ringing through the night. You swore that you saw sparks fly, but surely that was impossible.

Right?

Solveig's brute strength was overwhelming, each blow powerful enough to cause the ground to shake beneath your feet. 

A'rien had agility on his side as he slipped around Solveig, scales glinting in the waning light. His expression twisted as he slashed at Solveig, opening up a slash across Solveig’s shoulder. Red blood bloomed. 

You watched, heart in your throat, as A'rien dodged Solveig’s next attack, barely managing to duck out of the way as the knife came down.

Fear gripped you, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away from the fight. Your thoughts raced—should you run inside for help or stay and find some way to assist A'rien? The temptation to seek safety inside was strong, but you couldn’t bring yourself to abandon him.

Solveig roared, swinging his knife in a wide arc. A'rien ducked and rolled, his daggers flashing as he struck back. Each strike was measured, aimed to disable rather than kill, showcasing his skill and control. Solveig was relentless, pressing forward with sheer force, his knife slicing through the air with lethal intent.

You ducked back into the shadows, your mind a whirl of fear and helplessness. You wished desperately for a way to help, your hands trembling as you clutched the fabric of your cloak. The intensity of the fight was overwhelming, every clash and grunt sending a shiver down your spine.

In a sudden, brutal move, Solveig managed to land a crushing blow to A'rien's side, sending him sprawling to the ground. A'rien’s daggers skidded across the lawn, out of reach. Solveig loomed over him, his smile twisted with victory.

Panic surged through you. Without thinking, you darted forward, determined to help A'rien despite the danger. As you moved, A'rien’s voice rang out, strong and commanding. “No!”

You froze, your heart pounding in your chest. A'rien struggled to rise, his eyes fixed on you, desperate. The message was clear—your safety was paramount, and he didn’t want you to risk yourself.

Tears stung your eyes as you took a step back, torn between the urge to help and the fear of making things worse. It felt like your chest was constricting, breath coming in rasping gasps.

Despite A'rien's warning, you couldn't stand by and do nothing. Summoning every ounce of courage, you rushed forward, your mind racing. You watched as if in slow motion as Solveig drew back his knife, looming over A’rien-

You weren’t thinking. Barely even aware of A’rien’s, no, stop! You rushed forwards, arms outstretched, and tackled Solveig. The ricochet of your own body slamming into his made you bounce back, legs flailing; but as you fell, you brought Solveig down with you.

"Shit!" Solveig growled, as the two of you landed in a tangle of limbs.

Your heart pounded, but rolled away from Solveig, wiping diary and hair from your eyes. "Leave him alone!"

With Solveig distracted, A'rien seized the opportunity. With a surge of strength, he lunged forward from the ground, sweeping Solveig's legs out from under him as he tried to stand. The orc stumbled, crashing back down to his knees, and A'rien sprang up, delivering a powerful blow to Solveig's head. The orc's eyes rolled back, and he collapsed, unconscious.

Breathing heavily, A'rien glanced at you, a mix of relief and gratitude in his eyes. "Are you alright?" he asked, his voice rough from exertion.

You nodded, your pulse still racing. "I’m fine. We need to tie him up before he wakes."

Without wasting a moment, you dashed into the house, searching for anything that could serve as a restraint. Your hands trembled slightly as you grabbed a coil of rope from a storage closet. You hurried back outside, where A'rien was already moving Solveig towards the porch railing.

Together, you worked quickly, your fingers fumbling with the rope as you bound Solveig securely to the railing. A'rien’s movements were efficient and precise, his strength ensuring that the knots were tight and unyielding. You could feel his calm presence beside you, compared to your own erratic movements.

Once Solveig was securely tied, you stepped back, breathing a sigh of relief. The immediate danger had passed, but the weight of what had just happened still hung in the air. You turned to A'rien, your eyes meeting his.

“Thank you,” you said softly, your voice shaking slightly. “I couldn’t just stand by and watch.”

A'rien’s gaze softened, and he reached out, gently placing a hand on your shoulder. “You were brave,” he said, his voice filled with admiration. “Please, next time, listen to me.”

Laughter burst from your throat, high pitched and manic. “I can’t promise that.”

As the adrenaline from the fight began to fade, a sense of relief washed over you. A'rien finished securing the last knot and stood up, glancing at you with a twinkle in his eyes. He broke the silence with a light-hearted chuckle.

"That's two life debts now," he said, his voice teasing. "You’ll never be rid of me at this rate."

You laughed softly, the tension easing from your shoulders. "That’s fine by me," you replied, meeting his gaze with a warm smile. "I don’t want to be rid of you."

A'rien’s expression softened, his warm eyes meeting yours. Without thinking, you stepped closer, your heart beating faster as you felt the magnetic pull between you.

He reached out, his hand gently brushing a strand of hair away from your face. The gesture was tender, his touch sending shivers down your spine. His eyes flickered to your lips and then back to your eyes, silently asking for permission.

You nodded, your breath hitching as you leaned in. His lips met yours in a gentle, tentative kiss. The world seemed to fall away, leaving just the two of you in a bubble of warmth. A'rien’s kiss was surprisingly soft, his lips cool against yours. You could taste a hint of metallic sweat, mingled with an almost earthy flavour that was distinctly his. 

You responded, deepening the kiss as your arms found their way around his neck. His hands settled on your waist, pulling you closer, the strength in his embrace balanced by an unexpected gentleness. He kissed you like a man starved. Or, perhaps, like a man who had wanted to do this for far too long.

When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless, your foreheads resting against each other’s. You could feel the warmth of his breath mingling with yours.

A'rien’s eyes were half-closed, a content smile playing on his lips. His fangs peeked through. Cute. 

"I never thought I’d find someone like you," he murmured, his voice thick.

The night was quiet again, the tension of the earlier confrontation easing into a calm, peaceful silence. You and A'rien stood there, wrapped in each other’s embrace, simply enjoying the moment. The warmth of his presence, the steady beat of his heart, was a comforting balm to your nerves.

A'rien broke the silence with a gentle kiss on your forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment. “We should alert the guards that we have Solveig before he wakes up,” he said softly.

You nodded, your thoughts reluctantly shifting back to the unconscious orc tied to your porch. “Will he have a concussion?” you asked, glancing over at Solveig’s prone form.

“Definitely,” A'rien replied with a small smile. “Orcs are hardy. He’ll be fine.”

As you started to pull away, A'rien leaned in to kiss you again, a soft, lingering kiss that made your heart flutter. His hands gently released their hold on you, but the warmth of his touch stayed with you.

As you turned towards the door, a thought struck you, and you paused. “A'rien, why are you in town?” you asked, your curiosity getting the better of you. “You never did answer me, and with Solveig here, I can’t help but wonder…”

A'rien’s expression grew slightly more serious, his eyes holding yours for a long moment. He opened his mouth to respond, but the weight of his words seemed to hang in the air.

Eventually, A'rien took a deep breath and met your gaze. "I suppose you deserve to know the truth," he began, his voice tinged with a mixture of resignation and vulnerability. "I was supposed to be trying out for a position as a city guard."

You blinked in surprise, and then a laugh bubbled up, breaking the tension. "Why did you hide that from me?"

A faint smile played on his lips. "I wanted you to think I was skilled and battle-worthy, not just some recruit trying out for a position. I didn't want you to see me as weak."

You stepped closer, your hand finding his. "A'rien, you are skilled and battle-worthy. You've proven that more than once. You should still go for the position."

He shook his head, a self-deprecating chuckle escaping him. "How can I be a good guard if I've had to be saved by you twice now?"

You silenced him with a kiss, your lips capturing his. The odd texture of his skin didn’t bother you; the warmth of his breath, the coolness of his scales, made your chest flutter. 

His surprise melted into warmth, and he responded with a deep, breathy sigh. 

When you pulled back, your foreheads resting against each other, you whispered, "You are strong and capable, A'rien. Everyone needs help sometimes. That doesn't make you weak.”

A'rien’s eyes softened. "You always know what to say," he murmured, his voice filled with warmth.

Just then, the distant sound of guards approaching grew louder, breaking the intimate bubble around you. A'rien straightened, his hand still holding yours. "I suppose we should let them know about Solveig," he said, his tone practical, even as his eyes glowed.

You rolled your eyes, sliding your hand snugly into his. “I suppose we should.”

[arlana-likes-to-write]

Lightning Bug - Chapter 21

Masterlist

Warning: panic attack, nightmare, mention of past turture, trauma dump, religious abuse, mention of murder, protective avengers

Word count: 5.1k (we are less than 3,000 words from this fic being over 100,000 words)

Wanda enjoyed this alone time as she mediated with her thoughts and how things in her life were changing. Sometimes her thoughts scarred and worried her. At times they were dark and depressing but she knew there was light at the end of the tunnel. The witch smiled. “I know your there,” she said. Her accent was thicker when she was in this state. Wanda opened her eyes and saw Vision standing in the doorway. He looked worried and conflicted. “What’s wrong?” She asked as her feet touched the ground.

“It’s difficult to explain.”

“Try,” Wanda said. The android sighed, closing the door and sitting down in the empty chair.

“Miss. Y/n and I played a game of chess last night and she seemed rather upset,” Wanda frowned. She must have not gone back to bed once they left her. “We talked a bit and when she was going back to bed she asked if she could touch the mind stone and I let her.”

“You did what?” Wanda questioned in disbelief.

“I know it was incredibly irresponsible -”

“It could have killed her!” She knew her eyes flashed a hit of red but Vision remained calm. Gods, he was one of the smartest individual in the tower but he lacked such common sense.

“But it didn’t,” he folded his hands. “Similar to how it didn’t kill you or your brother when you came into contact with it.” He was right. It didn’t kill them but it changed them. “I know it was wrong of me to do but she trusted me enough. Doesn’t that say something?” Wanda nodded, taking a calming breath.

“What happened?” She asked and pulled up a chair to sit down with him.

“That’s why I wanted to talk to you,” he said. “I do no know. She touched the stone and normally I can know what occurred similar to when you touch it. But I felt nothing. It was as if the stone didn’t want me to see what it showed her,” Wanda’s frown deepened. “I asked what she saw but she claimed she saw nothing.”

“Is she in danger?” Wanda asked. She would do anything to keep the young girl safe.

“I don’t know,” Vision admitted. “But something is coming and I fear our young friend may be caught in the cross fire. Maybe if you can get her to confess what she saw in the mind realm it could give us a clue on how to protect her.”

*

“What is happening?” Wanda asked as she stepped out of the elevator. Her head was spinning with Vision’s warning. She made him promise to keep it between them until they could get more information. It was unnecessary to worry the team if they weren’t sure something was coming. During the elevator ride up to her floor, she tossed around the idea of telling Natasha. She wasn’t sure yet. She was in need of a cold shower to clear her head but she saw Kate with scissors in her hand about to cut Y/n’s hair. The archer froze, smiling as if she got caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

“She wanted a hair cut and no on that was qualified enough to cut hair was around,” Kate explained. “So here we are.” Wanda crossed her arms with an amused smile on her face.

“And you couldn’t wait for someone?” The young girl giggled.

“I did suggest that,” Kate defended. “But it’s very hard to say no to that face especially when she gives you puppy dog eyes.” The eyes in questioned locked onto her green ones. They were so much brighter compared to when she first saw that girl on the side of the road. Wanda promised herself to never let that light go out. With a sigh, she walked over the duo.

“Give me the scissors,” Kate sighed in relief and handed them over to Wanda.

“A life savor,” The archer praised. “Truly a life savor. I owe you a great debt Wanda Maximoff,” the witch rolled her eyes and stood behind the girl. “Now I have to go call Clint. See ya.”

“Bye Kate,” Y/n waved. “Tell everyone I say hi!” The archer gave a salute and headed off towards her room.

“So,” Wanda said, gently brushing her hair. It was freshly washed and it came down to the middle of her back. “Why do you want to cut your hair?” Wanda watched the girl’s shoulders move up and down.

“Never liked my hair long,” she began. “But no one would cut it when I was growing up and I didn’t really let people touch me to cut it,” she sighed. “I remember finding kid scissors in my brother’s room and I tried to cut it myself,” her body shook as she laughed. “Didn’t go well as you can imagine.” Wanda smiled as she set the brush down. “I was grounded for 2 weeks because of the mess I made,” her voice got soft. “I still have the scar on my shoulder where my father grabbed me and threw me into the wall.” Anger bubbled in Wanda’s chest. It was a mystery to her on how a father could hurt his child. She pushed the feeling down.

“How short are we thinking?” Wanda asked, changing the direction of the conversation.

“Maybe to my shoulders and we can go from there.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Wanda began to cut the long hair that was desperately need of a good cut. She wondered why her or Natasha didn’t suggest this to the teen earlier. Were there other things they were neglecting? “Vision told me that you and he played chest last night,” Wanda said. “Could you not fall asleep after your nightmare?” The teen shook her head. “Keep your head still,” the witch giggled.

“Sorry,” she said and Wanda could hear the smile in her voice. “I tried to,” she continued. “The room felt to small so I walked around the tower and found Vision. I like him. There is something abut him that makes me feel safe,” Wanda understood that feeling. He helped her overcome her grief of losing her brother and her actions in Laos.

“How are you feeling?” It took a minute for the girl to answer as she did a mental category of everything.

“Good, just a little tired and I have a headache but Kate gave me something for that.” The problem was Wanda felt the girl’s honestly and what worried her more was she wasn’t holding anything back. Wanda’s frown deepened. “Are you mad at Vision because he let me touch the mind stone?” The witch sighed.

“No, honey, but it was very dangerous and you could have gotten hurt.” The girl twisted around in the chair to face her.

“I didn’t see anything,” she said. “I promise. If I did I would tell you,” Wanda smiled.

“It’s okay, I believe you. Now,” she gently turned the teen forward. “Stop moving so I can finish cutting your hair.” The witch believed her. She felt no dishonestly in her words or in her mind. Whatever she saw or whoever she spoke with made her forget what she saw. That worried Wanda even more.

*

You didn’t like the feeling of loose hair on your neck so you took a quick shower once Wanda was done. You loved your hair, it was short and easy to manage. So many times people grabbed onto your hair to hold you in place or pull you back. It was nice to be free from that. You hung up the towel when your hair was dry and walked out of your room. “You cut your hair!” America exclaimed when you entered the main area. Her and Yelena were sitting on the couch with Natasha in the kitchen.

“Yeah,” you said, feeling your face flush at the attention. “Do you like it?” She continued to stare at you until Yelena hit her in the stomach.

“Yeah,” she cleared her throat. “It looks good. Yeah, good,” the blonde rolled her eyes and mumbled, ‘Ya Delayu Eto (idiot).’ “What did you just call me?” You giggled and sat down at the kitchen counter.

“Wanda said you asked her to cut your hair,” Natasha said.

“Actually, I asked Kate but Wanda took the scissors from her,” you giggled.

“That is probably for the best,” Yelena said, appearing next to her sister. “She would not have done a good job.” You smiled. Yelena hit her hip against the redhead, you didn’t like the way both of them were looking at you. You raised your eyebrow in question.

“Do you want to join Yelena and I for a walk?” You looked between knowing well they were hiding something.

“Yeah sure,” you said. “Sounds like fun.” You expected them to lead you outside to walk around a park but they lead you to the training area and onto the track. It was surrounded by windows that over locked the city and letting natural light in. You wondered what it would look like in the winter. The Black Widow due walked on either side of you. “So,” you said after you finished the first lap. “Are you going to tell me what you really want to talk about?” Yelena chuckled.

“There is no keeping secrets from this one,” you nodded your eyes.

“Helen suggested that adding exercise can aid in your recovery,” Natasha explained. “Plus I agree with Wanda and I think it’s a good idea to train your abilities so you don’t hurt yourself.”

“Will that make me an Avenger?”

“Do you want to be an Avenger?” You shrugged.

“Not really. Seems like a lot of paperwork.” Yelena laughed.

“You are so right,” she said. “Those mission reports give me nightmares.” Natasha pinched her sister which caused the blonde to yelp. “It’s true! Maria made me redo one 3 times!”

“That’s because you wrote the entire thing in hieroglyphics, then piglatin, and finally English,” Yelena shrugged.

“As Deputy Director she should be well versed in multiple languages,” Natasha shook her head with a sigh. You liked watching the two Black Widows interact with one another. There were moments where you saw Caleb and yourself in them. They desperately wanted to protect one another, it was the same for you. But there were times you wished you and Caleb could be more playful as they were; joking around and teasing with one another. You both were focused on surviving. Sometimes you would sneak into his room and talk and () your laughter so you wouldn’t get caught. You loved those memories. “Natasha talked to Steve and myself, Wanda, or Maria will be helping you train. As well as Nat,” she added. It was a good plan and you felt safe with those people.

“There is more we need to talk about,” you figured as much. “Helen also said there is damage to your hippocampus. There is ways to heal it; exercising being one of them and you need to stop hurting yourself.” You never planned to let it get that bad again. You felt guilty for worrying everyone.

“Hippocampus,” you repeated back to her. “What is that?”

“It’s part of your brain that helps with memory,” Yelena answered. “Have you been experiencing memory loss?” You weren’t sure. There were moments you could remember crystal clear like you were watching a movie. Your memories when you were with HYDRA or living on the streets, there were gaps. Not everything was clear but you chalked it up to your brain protecting you from traumatic events. You nodded. “Those memories may come back,” you frowned, stopping in your tracks. The duo kept walking before stopping when they realized you weren’t following.

“What’s wrong, dorogoy (sweetheart)?” Natasha asked, walking back over to you.

“I don’t want to remember,” you whispered. You didn’t. You wanted to forget all the pain you caused, the blood on your hands, and the screams. The screams were the worst part. “I want to forget all those horrible things they made me do.”

“Who is they?” Natasha knelt in front of you, gently taking your hands in hers. There was a burning feeling to tell them. To come clean and wash away all the hidden secrets. They must know, right? You’ve told them you’ve killed, the your hands have been tainted red with blood. What other organization was in the business of kidnapping people and turning them into weapons? They were waiting for you to tell them, to take that leap of faith.

“HYDRA,” your voice shook. “They took me off the streets, promised me a safe place to sleep and food. I didn’t-” your lips trembled. “I didn’t want to do it.”

“Oh I know,” Natasha cooed, whipping away your tears tat fell. “Your okay,” she promised. “They won’t hurt you, never again.” You believed her and she brought you into a tight hug. You burrowed your face in her shirt, letting more tears fall.

“It’s hard when you start to remember the things you’ve done,” you turned to face the blood, still wrapped in Natasha’s arms. She was leaning against the railing with a frown on her face, starring at her shoes. “It’s like a scab over a cut so you always know it’s there but the cut opens it seems to hurt more than the first time.” Finally, she looked at you. The look in eyes reminded you of that day in the gun range, far off and dazed.

“How do you move on?” You asked softly. She chuckled, looking away. She clicked her tongue to the rood of her mouth.

“Like a scar, it takes time,” you wished she had a different answer.

“But you have us,” your attention went back to the Black Widow. “You are safe here and no matter what happened in your past it won’t change how we see you now.”

“Promise?” You questioned.

“Promise.” Yelena reassured you.

*

You stayed in your room until dinner, going over what Natasha and Yelena said. You were exhausted and grateful that those around you didn’t force you talk talk, you needed the quiet to decompress. Even Helen’s voice rang in your head, ‘you need to let them in and allow them to shoulder that fear with you.’ Oh but you were so scared to do that. Even with the promise that they wouldn’t look at you differently, you were still scared. So when dinner came around, you didn’t engage in the conversation as they asked Bruce how Wakanda was. Instead, you pushed your food around your plate to lost in your own thoughts. Once dinner was put away, Tony ordered ice cream for everyone. It was suppose to be a fun team bonding experience but the ice cream made your stomach twist as you listened to the team talk and laugh. “Hey,” America whispered, pumping your shoulder against yours. “Are you okay?” You sighed, not meaning it to be loud enough to grab the attention of other other Avengers. You swirled your spoon in your ice cream so the colors were mixed together.

“I,” you sighed again, feeling angry with yourself for not finding the correct words. “I want to tell all of you about what happened to me, if that’s okay?” The mood of the group shifted and you felt a little bad but you needed to do this now before you lost the courage.

“Of course, " Wanda smiled. “Take your time.” You crossed your legs and focused on your ice cream.

“I was born with this ability,” you started. You knew some of them knew that but you thought it was good to start from the beginning. Dropping your spoon, electricity danced around your fingers. “They didn’t surface until I was about 4 but even then my parents made it clear they wanted nothing to do with me,” you took another spoonful of your ice cream, hand shaking slightly. “They didn’t want a second kid and my mother didn’t know she was pregnant until a friend told her. He claimed God spoke to him through a dream and told him of the pregnancy. But I wasn’t going to be a gift, I was going to be a curse. That not even the Devil wanted me.” You heard Natasha scuff. You smiled at the sound, imagining the red head rolled her eyes and Wanda quietly having to tell her to behave. You kept your eyes trained down. “So they kept me a secret, only a trusted few new about me.”

“Why didn’t they give you up for adoption?” ate questioned. It was a good one that you asked yourself all the time.

“I learned quickly that my father enjoyed two things; power and control,” you answered. “There I was a young girl desperate for her father’s love. I did everything I could to get it, no matter how many times he hit me,” you whispered, shaking your head. “Anyways, I accidental shocked my brother. They were furious and locked me in a small room in the basement for 3 days. The only reason I survived was Caleb bring me food and water. He had to be careful too. He was my parents’ favorite but that didn’t always protect him. When they found out I lived, they sent a priest to form an exorcism on me to get the Devil out.”

“You were 4 years old,” you heard the anger in every word Yelena said. You nodded. Your father held you down at the priest performed it. It wasn’t the only one you had to endure but they didn’t need to know that.

“Obviously, it didn’t work,” you chuckled, trying to lighten up the situation. “I remember they made me kneel in the corner and pray to God to save me. I spent hours reading over the bible,” you took another bite of your ice cream. It was melted but it was a good distraction. “That went on for a year or two until they realized I could use my powers to benefit them. I gave power to the church, our home, and those who knew I existed but it was not good enough. Every bad thing that happened I was to blame, someone leaving the church, my father getting into a chair accident, or my brother getting sick. It was all my fault and one day I snapped,” you felt America tangle her hand with your free one, squeezing it tight. You were grateful for it.

“You don’t have to continue, sweetie,” Pepper said. You smiled at the CEO. You were almost done with this section of your story.

“Caleb went to school,” you continued. “And my father wouldn’t stop yelling. I don’t remember why he was upset,” your voice began to shake. “The pressure was building and I couldn’t stop it. It became to much and I let go. I woke up to the house around me was burnt to the ground. First responders were on their way and I ran,” you finally looked up at the Black Widow, seeing nothing but warmth in her eyes. “I learned later they said it was an electrical fire but it was me.” A heavy silence fell among the group, it was Tony that broke it.

“Look I’ll be the first one to say it since we are all thinking it. They got what they deserved,” Pepper gasped, slapping the billionaire.

“Tony! I can not believe you said that!” She shirked. You fought a smile that was forming on your face.

“What? I know we are all thinking it, tell me I’m wrong!” No one said anything. “See my point. Look kid,” he stopped mid sentence. “I have words for wisdom to tell you but I fear my wife so I’ll tell you when we are alone.” You laughed, whipping away a tear that fell.

“What I think Mr. Stark is trying to say,” Vision said. “We are very sorry you had to endure that as a child.”

“Yeah, shit,” Rhodey said. But there was a second half to your story. That was a nice intermission. You finished your melted ice cream, set it on the table, and leaned back onto the couch still holding onto America’s hand. It grounded you.

“To no one’s surprise,” you continued. “I was an easy target on the streets by the other kids, adults, and authorities. I was a quiet kid to afraid to fight back because I didn’t want to hurt anyone. But I survived the best I could then a man approached me,” you looked down at your lap. Sometimes you felt so stupid for trusting him. “He promised me a safe place to sleep, food, and that other ids were going to be there. I went with him.”

“You weren’t stupid for believing he was telling the truth,” Sam said. You shrugged.

“He brought me this black van and he drugged me. When I came to I was in a cell and I found out I was with HYDRA. Very quickly they learned they couldn’t use their normal methods because I could redirect the electricity,” you smiled. “Pop quiz, what is great conductor for electricity?” You looked up, watching the gears turn in Bruce and Tony’s head.

“Water,” the doctor said. You nodded, keeping your eyes on the floor.

“If I didn’t complete the mission, they would fill a tub of water, force me inside,” you looked at Bucky. “And electrify it.” The color drained from this face, making his blue eyes pop. “I tried to redirect it but the onslaught was to much.”

“What did you do for them?” Steve asked.

“Anything they wanted,” you whispered. “I did everything that man told me to. I was his little spark and he was papa,” Bucky licked his lips. “I tortured, killed, and helped reset the Winter Solider,” it was so silent. You feared the could hear the beating of your heart. “Do you remember me?” You asked Bucky. “Because I’m so sorry, I didn’t want to hurt you.” God, you could hear his screams echoing in your head.

“So am I,” Bucky got up suddenly, leaving towards the direction of his room. The others watched the man leave.

“I’d go make sure he’s okay,” you told Steve. “Those few years weren’t kind to us,” the blonde hesitated to leave but you nodded. “It was an endless cycle. He’d hurt me, I’d hurt him, it wasn’t fun.”

“How did you escape?” Natasha asked. You sighed, resting your head on America’s shoulder.

“I did what I do best and burnt the place to the ground,” you said softly. “I made it back to the states and lived on the streets until Natasha found me.” You were exhausted. It was an emotionally charged day.

“Shit,” Sam said. You chuckled at the blunt comment. “Not sure if I want to hug you or hurt everyone that has hurt you.”

“Get in line, Wilson,” you saw the same anger in Natasha’s eyes when you told her about the incident a the Barrera house or when the shop owner put his hand on you. Everyone seemed to share the same look, even Bruce looked upset. You smiled.

“The past is the past,” you said. “Can’t change it. I just have to keep on moving forward.” America squeezed your hand.

“With all of us by your side.” Yeah, you thought, that sounded nice.

*

“Buck,” Steve said, chasing after the man. “Bucky, hold on.” He finally caught up to him and grabbed onto his arms. He could see that he was on the verge of a panic attack.

“I can’t,” he struggled to say. His blue eyes were wide, frantically looking around. “I can’t be in the same room as her. I-”

“Sh,” Steve cut his boyfriend off. “I need you to breath for me. Can you do that for me?” Bucky hesitated but shook his head. The blonde sprang into action. He brought Bucky to the ground and sat with his back against the wall and Bucky between his legs. With Bucky’s back flushed against his front, he wrapped his arms around him. Steve started to breath, in for 5 and out for 5. Repeat. Repeat, until he felt Bucky’s breathing calm down.

Physical touch was usually never the answer to ground Bucky, especially after a nightmare. Steve learned the hard way when Bucky grabbed him by his throat and wouldn’t let go. But there were expectations to the rule especially when he couldn’t regulate his breathing. Steve rested his head on Bucky’s shoulder. He waited for Bucky to gather his thoughts. “Lately, I’ve found myself starring at her,” he began. “It was my body remembered her but my mind refused to.” Steve hummed, indicating that he was listening. “I almost killed her.” His voice shook.

“You and I both know that wasn’t you,” Steve said. Bucky turned around to face him.

“You don’t understand. When she said they held her down in that tub that was me. God Steve she’s just a kid.”

“And you were tortured and held against your will with no choice but to do those things,” Steve countered. He cupped his boyfriend’s cheeks, drawing circles with his thumb. “Do you blame her for what she did to you?”

“No..” Bucky whispered.

“Then I wish you’d offer yourself the same level of forgiveness,” Steve whipped away tears that fell from his blue eyes. “I can not fathom the guilt you carry, baby, and the path to moving forward is long and messy but you have to remember what you did for them wasn’t your choice. You were trapped,” Steve bit his lip before he could say it was partly on him that HYDRA got to Bucky but this wasn’t about him and Bucky didn’t need to hear about his guilt.

“I don’t know how I’m going to be able to face her.” Steve sighed, dropping his hands.

“I don’t think she blames you, Buck. But if you need time to process everything I’m sure she’ll give you that.” Bucky nodded, chuckling softly.

“What would I do without you, punk,” Steve smiled, kissing his forehead.

“Do you want to go back down or head to bed?” He had a feeling what he would chose but wanted to give him the option.

“Bed,” Steve chuckled, stood up, and pulled his boyfriend to his feet. He kept his hand tightly in his. Sam was right, the tower seemed to attract HYDRA’s puppets. He believed it was because everyone in the tower could help heal them.

*

You were fighting to keep your eyes opened as you rested on Kate’s lap with a movie playing. It was a Scooby-Doo movie but you were lost on the plot with sleep clouding your mind. Also, Kate running her fingers trough your hair wasn’t helping. But you were scared to fall asleep. You worried what monsters your mind would create. You were powerless to fight it and fell asleep.

*

On either side of you was a guard as you walked down the familiar hallways. They were armed with assault rifles and military armor with orders to shot on sight if you tried to escape. You weren’t going to escape. Every bone in your body hurt. There was a dark hole growing over your hear; accepting your fate here. They opened a door and pushed you in, not entering with you. Inside was a man, long brown hair and blue eyes. He was strapped to a chair, unable to move and no light in his eyes. The most striking part of his appearance was his one metal arm. “Hi little spark,” he stepped out of the corner. “Come here,” you took a few steps and took his out stretched hand. “This man right is very important to us. You can call him Winter.”

“Winter,” you said slowly but the man didn’t move.

“But even though he’s important to us doesn’t mean he’s free from punishment. Just like you.” you moved you behind Winter where there was a wooden box. “Up you get,” As you stood on the box, he let go of your hand. “Punish him.” He told you. You had a feeling what he wanted you to do but you couldn’t. Maybe he was mistaken. This man could die. Before you could protest, he grabbed your hands and put them on either side of his head. “I won’t ask again.” You nodded, licking your lips and focused your energy to your hands. It was a small electrical discharge, Winter didn’t make a sound. “Stronger,” you obeyed and this time Winter made a small noise. It was no where near your full strength and knew it. He grabbed on your hair and pushed you against the wall.

“Stop wasting my time,” he put his forearm against your throat. It was hard to get air into your lungs. “I will have him kill you, do you understand?” Kill me, you wanted to screamed, I want to die. You wanted this to be over.

“Yes papa,” you whispered and he released you. You sucked in some much needed air and stepped back on top of the box. Placing your hands on the side of his head, you let out a shaky breath. “I’m sorry,” you mumbled and released the electricity. He fought it and you were impressed by that. Soon he couldn’t fight it and he screamed. He screamed and screamed and screamed.

*

You jerked away and fell onto the floor with a thud. “Jesus Christ,” Kate said. The movie paused. “Are you okay?” You scrambled to your feet, starring at your friends and heart pounding.

“Yeah,” you said, licking your lips. “Yeah, I’m great.” You chuckled. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle everyone.” You felt your hands shake and you placed them behind your back out of view. But Yelena saw. The Black Widow stood up and took your hands in hers. You tensed at the contact, you didn’t want to hurt her.

“A nightmare?” She questioned, sitting you back down on the couch. You nodded. “Do you want to talk about it?” You shook your head. “Okay, then we can sit here until you are okay.”

“I’m fine,” you didn’t believe the lie you told your friends.

“Your shaking,” America whispered. You weren’t even aware you were.

“Oh,” you spoke softly.

“It’s okay, bud. We’ll sit here and watch the movie until you feel better.” You nodded as America continued the movie. As the movie played, the visual affects and funny dialogue helped your body relax. But in the back of your mind, all you felt was fear.

When your body stopped shaking, you excused yourself to your room. You took a cold shower to wash away the dream and changed into a long sleeve shirt and sleep shorts. But you knew you weren’t going back to sleep. So you sat on your bed with a book in your hands. It was going to be a long night.

_

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[bbori-cha]

home

✦ pairing: modern au!xiao x gn!reader ✦ cw: not proofread, a little bit of angst, implied death, implied reincarnation, reader used to wear a dress in their past life, not too bad it’s pretty soft, lmk if i missed any!

he’s holding you in his arms as he cries. something he hasn’t done since his friends had succumbed to their karmic debt. there’s no rain, there’s not a cloud in the sky, creating a path that allows the sun to shine through.

and it was because of you. 

you were the one who got rid of the clouds and the darkness that veiled the skies and allowed for there to be light. but now you’re not moving. you can’t even hear xiao begging for you to wake up, for breaking your promise to be with him forever, for leaving him behind like everyone else has. your body is getting colder, more peaceful even, while xiao’s grief cannot be quelled.

he wakes up though. 

feeling… different. the same, but different. and you’re there too, sleeping next to him, the sound of your quiet rhythmic breaths filling the room. and he feels a sense of relief.

you’re no longer wearing the same pale blue dress, nor was your hair ridiculously long anymore. instead, you’re wearing a simple t-shirt (his t-shirt) and underwear, your favorite choice of pajamas, and alive. you’re alive and next to him.

and xiao no longer has his green hair, his tattoos, or his duty. instead, he’s just a normal guy. and he’s fine with that, as long as he has you.

you’re both not in his room at the wangshu inn, but instead, you’re in your shared apartment. the place you’ve built together to call “home.”

he gently pats your head, causing you to make a quiet grunt as you settle into his touch, a faint smile forming on your face. his thumb caresses your cheek as he replicates your smile. after watching your chest rise and fall a couple of times, he lays back down next to you, pulling you closer to him as you naturally settle against his chest, still fast asleep, and he nuzzles his face on the top of your’s, closing his eyes.

✦ an: reposting from my main<3

[ask-healthy-light]

To the others' great relief, Inferno did not distance herself any more, though she did look at them in confusion, and shrugged, as she did not understand what they meant, nor why they would willingly show her such kindness; for in all her years of training for battle and war, she could not remember a moment that she was given a chance to choose for herself, as she had always been told what to do.

But before she could refuse their offer, Nox walked up to her side, and spoke to her no differently than she would any friend, especially since she had known Inferno for a very long time, and sweetly reminded her of her reaction when she first met Luna; for although she thought herself incapable of anything but coldness and stoicism, Nox said that such gentleness was enough to prove the opposite.

Though Inferno did not say anything to oppose Nox at first, after she briefly glanced back at their companions, she shook her head, and selflessly asked Nox to ignore her, and to focus on taking care of her friends; but Nox merely smiled, and promised Inferno that she was a part of that group, too, and she would not stand idly by to watch yet another one of her friends treat themselves so poorly.

When Inferno heard her mention that she was not the first to act like this, she turned back to look at Nox, whose smile grew brighter when she nodded to her Captain, before she discreetly gestured to Light, who was quietly looking towards the horizon; and she told Inferno that they were very alike, as she had powerlessly watched Light put themselves in danger for the sake of others far too often.

But as her smile grew warmer, and she gently took Inferno's claw, Nox continued, and said that they would not have gone here with Light to help the Green Unicorn if they had not accepted her offer to help; and just like she had helped them to realise their selflessness would only lead to more harm, she wanted Inferno to understand that she did not want another friend to travel down the same path.

As both Inferno and Nox's eyes started to well up with tears of different kinds, Inferno slowly sat down next to Nox, who promised her that she would look after all her friends, as long as she looked after herself, too; and although she realised that it would take more than a brief talk to help her change, she would be glad if just once, Inferno could see herself as an equal, instead of inferior.

There was no lie to be found in either Nox's words, which both wonderfully warmed and awfully ached her heart, her eyes, that showed her kindness greater than any she had gotten before, or her smile, so gentle and caring that it made Inferno smile as well; but she did not utter a single word, since she did not know what say, nor what to give to Nox that was as valuable to the reassurance she got.

At that moment, as if she had read her mind, Nox sweetly embraced Inferno, and quietly asked her to stop wondering about what to give her in return, as if it was a debt she now had to repay, and just told her to consider her request; and though Inferno reached for her sword when Nox placed her arms around her, her reaction faded just as swiftly as it had appeared, and she relaxed her tensed body.

As tears started to stain her face, Inferno carefully wrapped her arms around Nox in turn, and ever so slowly pulled her closer to her, until they could feel one another's hearts beating in their own chests; and Nox quietly whispered an apology to Inferno, as she had never realised how much she had missed in her life, but as she strengthened her grip, she swore to help her grow, heal, and thrive.

When Nox released Inferno from her embrace, although she expected her to be incredibly relieved, to her pleasant surprise, she did not let go of Nox, and only pulled her even closer in turn, allowing her to feel her racing heart and hear her quivering breaths; but as Nox started to console Inferno, she asked her not to tell the others that she had been crying, as she feared what they might think.

But after Nox promised to keep her secret, she chuckled quietly, and told Inferno:

"Not long ago, Light broke down in my arms as well. I did say that you two were alike…"

(Thanks for reading! And if you enjoyed, please reblog! Thanks in advance!)

Send an ask or request! | Start at the beginning! | Next part!

Featuring: Nox Lunarwing from @nox-lunarwing Boomlord from @thedumbguywithaheart43

[hanzajesthanza]

Angouleme for the character bingo

i am so normal about them - did you know that when the guards call her "skittish" in her debut in ttos ch. 5 and fringilla calls her "flighty" in lotl ch. 4, they're actually using the same word, płochy? of which could be translated as "fickle," "thoughtless," "skittish," or "insignificant, trivial" or "unsteady in (her) feelings", or "careless," "untamed," or "reckless" ... isn't that interesting! i just think that's interesting.

i have so many headcanons about them - my entire (planned but not written) fic with her and regis spins around my head... i'm torn on whether to post a plot summary of this on here (basically copying over what i've said in discord messages), or if i want to avoid spoiling any of this and just wait until i've finished it (and who knows when or if i will ever write this)

*projects onto them like a mf* - yes, though admittedly to her detriment, it's a habit i've tried to stop. i find that my excessive editorializing of her spoils her character :p stick to the facts, people! i admit it's difficult if only because we share some similar issues, but the thing that i have to keep in mind is that we have entirely opposite personalities, and even if we feel similarly, her feelings will express themselves differently.

wordless space 1, "i just think she's neat"

everyone else is wrong about them - people just forget about her character, and i'm not only speaking of them forgetting about her existence - that they also do often enough, but they also do not pay attention to her. that's probably my biggest pet peeve regarding her, is that people find her quirky and funny, but do not remember the context around her character... that she nearly escaped the scaffold, and from that nearly the stake, with eyes gouged out and breasts torn by iron-hot pincers? that she genuinely was begging to be hanged when she was introduced as a character, begging for death? or that she has hidden from pursuers in toussaint before? that she has "friends" such as golan drosdeck whom she owed debts to? that she is knowledgeable about the mining operations and the reddishness of the earth, and explains the subject to geralt and cahir? or that she is upset when civilians are afraid of them from killing bandits "because they were evil," so she indeed has a moral compass? that she screams like a banshee when trying to kill nightingale? or that she 'resembled a pretty girl' when given a comb and dress, and that she got tipsy during the october banquet and could be heard throughout the hall? her character actually has so much detail and diversity if you actually pay attention, but hardly anyone remembers her as anything asides from a silly little girl that joined geralt's hanza and provides some laughs for the reader. and then they ask why the female characters are one-dimensional. idk, possibly because it is these reader which made them one-dimensional in their very own minds because they are not strong readers and forget all the detail that's literally written right there on the page... oh, and by the way, it was not a hanza before she joined, because she is the very one which dubs it that in the first place. before angouleme joined, they were just the "company". that is my angouleme rant done 😌

that's a solid design right there - canonically, great: "The girl sniffed again, inclined her head and fixed Geralt with her huge eyes. Nut-brown, not green. Then she shook her untidy mane of light hair, causing it to fall onto her forehead in unruly locks," and personally (if i can compliment the own personal way i see her), i love to give her a silhouette with a short, cropped top and long, flared pants. somewhat like this:

they are so silly - ignore my entire rant above about her being treated like a comic relief character and nothing more... because she is indeed funny and a bright little jester of a girl.

wordless space 2, "squeaky toy"

bastard - literally. she is an illegitimate child born out of wedlock.

character bingo

send an ask

[youthdissent]

[ID: A yellow square post with a light yellow rounded rectangle taking up the top two thirds, with large, black, bold, all-caps text that reads "California! join queer and trans youth in protesting the Supreme Court". In the bottom right corner there is smaller bold black text that reads "Join us in San Diego, CA." Non-bold black text below this reads "at the San Diego Waterfront Park/City Hall on August 9th from 12:00-2:00PM PST!". In the bottom left corner is a drawing of a person with light tan skin and mid-length green curly hair using a wheelchair and holding a progress flag. End ID.]

[ID: A yellow square post with a light yellow rounded square in the middle that takes up most of the post. Inside there is a heading in all-caps, bold, black text that reads "We, The Youth, Dissent". Below this is smaller black text which reads "The Supreme Court has recently targeted areas of our everyday lives that impact our finances, education, and our freedom of self-expression. With the rulings impacting student debt relief, lgbtqia+ rights, and affirmative action, we have had enough. Queer Youth Assemble has created Youth Dissent as a way to highlight the impact of these recent Supreme Court rulings especially on minority groups within the lgbtqia+ community. The intersectionality of these rulings is too large to ignore and we the youth, dissent." End ID.]

[ID: A yellow square post with a light yellow rounded square in the middle that takes up most of the post. Inside there is a heading in all-caps, bold, black text that reads "What should I bring?". Below this is smaller black text which reads "Here's a quick list of things you might want to bring with you to your upcoming demonstration. Keep an eye out for our resource guides on organizing and protesting coming out this week!" Below this there is a list of checkboxes in slightly smaller text whose items include, "Necessary medications, Water & Small snacks, State ID, cash & coins, Fully charged cell phone, Hand sanitizer & a mask, Hat & sunscreen, Our printable "Know Your Rights" & "In Case of Emergency" cards*, A sign". Below this is smaller text which reads "*These are available on our site alongside printable pages to cut and distribute at your demonstration!" End ID.]

[ID: A dark yellow square post with a light yellow rounded square in the middle that takes up most of the post. Inside there is a heading in all-caps, bold, black text that reads "Find a protest near you". Below this is smaller black text that reads "Please reach out to us at connorl@queeryouthassemble.org if you have any questions! Organizing and Protesting resource guides available in our bio now! Check out our page and website to stay up to date on our latest demonstration announcements.". Below this is smaller, centered text that reads "Currently featuring.... Atlanta, San Diego, Seattle, and much more!" End ID.]

[dontmeantobepoliticalbut]

THE TEXAS ATTORNEY GENERAL WAS IMPEACHED BECAUSE HIS STAFF HAD THE COURAGE TO SOUND THE ALARM ABOUT THEIR BOSS. WHEN WILL THE SENATOR’S STAFF BE BRAVE ENOUGH TO DO THE SAME?

BY ELIE MYSTAL

Texas Attorney General Ken Paxton has been in office since 2015, and since 2015 he has been one of the most destructive forces in American law. He’s used his office as a Republican wish-fulfillment machine, trying to win through conservative courts the policies that Republicans cannot win at the ballot box. It was Paxton who organized a red-state challenge to the Affordable Care Act in 2018, trying to get Obamacare declared unconstitutional (he lost). Paxton also led the 2018 challenge to the Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals program, and brought it all the way to the Supreme Court (he lost). And he challenged Obama’s Clean Power Plan in 2017 (he won). During the Trump administration, he turned his attention toward reproductive rights, and he’s been at the forefront of trying to implement Texas’s bounty-hunter law, which punishes anyone who tries to help pregnant people in Texas receive an abortion. So far, during the Biden administration, he’s sued the administration more than 50 times, mainly over Biden’s immigration policies and student debt-relief programs. For Paxton, there is simply no difference between the law and his conservative political agenda.

Paxton has also been one of the most corrupt public officials in America in recent years. He has been under indictment since 2015 for securities fraud. But he has managed to use his status as attorney general, and a number of procedural tricks, to evade facing trial on those charges. We’re talking about a man who once hopped into a getaway truck, driven by his wife, to avoid a subpoena compelling him to testify in an abortion case. His wife, by the way, is a state senator.

All of this is apparently fine with a majority of Texas voters (the same people who have infected this country with Ted Cruz). They elected Paxton to a third term as AG back in 2022, just two years after he came out as an election denier and, in one of the dumbest lawsuits I’ve ever seen, tried to get the Supreme Court to overturn the 2020 presidential election.

Given Paxton’s apparent popularity with Texas voters, I was surprised to see that the Republican-controlled Texas House of Representatives overwhelmingly voted to impeach him last week and put him on leave from his duties pending trial in the Texas Senate. The vote was 121-23. You don’t often see Republicans turn on one of their own like this.

The credit for this shocking turn of law before party has to go to Paxton’s staff. His own employees sounded the alarm on the misdeeds that led to his impeachment.

The Texas House impeached Paxton on 20 charges of bribery, obstruction of justice, and abuse of public trust. Many of those charges involve favors Paxton is accused of performing on behalf of one of his wealthy donors, a man named Nate Paul. Paul is being investigated by the FBI for real estate fraud, so Paxton decided to green-light a state investigation of the FBI’s actions, going so far as to hire his own outside attorney, over the objections of his staff. The most egregious allegation, to me, involves a COVID-related opinion Paxton allegedly forced his staff to write to benefit Paul. Paxton’s staff claim that he asked them to determine if any of the various COVID-19 legal moratoriums could be invoked to delay foreclosure proceedings. He was told that this would not work. So Paxton allegedly ordered them to rewrite the opinion and argue that foreclosure sales were prevented by COVID-19 restrictions. His staff couldn’t make sense of Paxton’s directive—until they realized that Paul had a number of properties facing foreclosure proceedings.

Members of Paxton’s team brought up these concerns with regulators, and were subsequently fired by Paxton. Those staffers then brought a whistleblower lawsuit and won a $3.3 million settlement from Paxton. Paxton (in an act that must be in the running for the Guinness Book of World Records for hubris) then asked the Texas Legislature to pay the $3.3 million he owed these people. That triggered the House investigation into the charges, which is what directly led to his impeachment last week.

We members of the public tend to treat political staffers as nameless, faceless functionaries who exist only to serve their famous bosses. We don’t expect them to exercise their own moral judgment, and we often give them a pass when they silently and dutifully serve even the most evil and corrupt public officials. Sure, the President’s staffers often become famous, but most people cannot name a single person who works for Clarence Thomas or Josh Hawley or Ron DeSantis, and when those staffers pop up later in some other government role or run for office in their own right, most people don’t hold their prior service against them. We act like political staff cannot be held responsible for the decisions of their bosses.

In reality, the staff is complicit in the policies and decisions of the officeholder they serve, and they know what’s really going on long before the public or ProPublica do. And political staffers, collectively, have a whole lot of power. They are the people who have the option to speak truth to power—or to become mere cheerleaders for the worst instincts of their bosses.

Instead of being complicit in Paxton’s apparent corruption and abuse of power or silent witnesses to it, Paxton’s staff chose to speak out. That’s crucial. A person like Paxton cannot exist without the tacit consent and professional aid of many other people. And, too often, those people justify looking the other way either because of their personal careerist goals, or their supposed dedication to the larger political agenda of the people they work for.

To put it another way: We’re lucky that the people who worked for Paxton are not like the people who work for California Senator Dianne Feinstein. Her failing health prevents Feinstein from doing her job as a leader in a representative democracy. She is being propped up, literally, by her staff. Seeing her wheeled around like this, appearing barely cognizant of where she is or what she’s being asked to do, is tragic in a way that borders on farce.

For wildly different reasons, both Paxton and Feinstein are unfit for their elected offices. Paxton is unfit because he’s a corrupt-o-fascist who couldn’t even find a benefactor wealthy enough to own a superyacht. Feinstein is unfit because she’s not compos mentis—which I believe is Latin for “let’s just make sure she’s comfortable”—and has been unable to participate in basic Senate business for several months. To be clear, there’s no moral equivalency here: Feinstein is a dedicated public servant who got very old and very incapacitated; Paxton is a power-hungry repeat bad actor who got caught. But operationally, neither person should have the jobs that they do. Paxton’s staff knew it, and I promise you Feinstein’s staff knows it too.

By propping Feinstein up like this, her staff is putting their own agenda ahead of the best interests of California voters who deserve to have a Senator who can vote and advocate and make crucial decisions on their behalf. We can assume that Feinstein’s staff agrees with her votes (since they appear to be the ones functionally doing the voting), just as we can assume that Paxton’s staff agreed with his horrible policies and habit of manipulating the law for conservative ends. But at least some people on Paxton’s staff drew the line at self-dealing. Some of them determined that the people of Texas deserved an attorney general who wasn’t in it for himself alone. Some of them were willing to risk their precious jobs, and in fact lost those jobs, for telling the truth about what was happening in their office.

Does anybody working for Feinstein have that same commitment to truth? Who will be the “whistleblower” who goes public and says that Feinstein cannot do the job anymore and needs to be replaced—or is that the kind of thing they’re all saving for the books they will write after the fact? Who among them is willing to put the people of California first, and their own careers on Capitol Hill second? It hurts my soul to write this, but the group of people who showed up to work for the sniveling, corrupt Republican attorney general of Texas showed more respect for the norms of democratic self-government than the people who show up to work for the senior Democratic Senator from California.

The bottom line is that Ken Paxton would not have been impeached but for the willingness of people who worked for him to go public with the truth. Dianne Feinstein will not be replaced until the people who work for her are willing to do the same thing.

[pr1ncesspopstar]

Returning to Roots - FFXIV Write 2024 - Day 2: Horizon

(No Ao3 link as the site is down, lmao)

-

It had been much too long since the roe woman had stepped through the familiar stone gates of Horizon.

She tried to remember last she came here on foot, rather than flying over at a glance or teleporting through via aetheryte. It had to have been… Three or four years now.

Gods, how much changed for the world and Halditar. She would have been blonde then, and still a gladiator far too aggressive to properly protect anyone. Moondrop would have still been yellow, and not the silvery-white her favorite fruits lended to her plumage. Back when the word ‘echo’ only held one meaning. The ‘Warrior of Light’ had been a story about others, no thought to it being a title she would one day carry.

And yet Horizon stood, ever the same as she left it. It was comforting. Nostalgic. Painful.

Old memories flooded her mind. It was only in retrospect now that she could realize, for some short time, Horizon had been a home to her. How many days and nights she entered and left the gates under the title of several different jobs. Miner, fisher, botanist, hunter… Scion. She blazed the paths connecting to Vesper Bay and Ul’dah more times than she could count. Spent all day in the sun, burning her pale complexion red and then collapsing into the comfort of watered down, ice-cold mead and a too-small bed at the inn. A place of small solace, even in the face of the looming tragedies, the terrors of war and apocalypse… The doorstep to the biggest changes in her life.

She pulled the modest hood of her sage’s coat higher, trying to fight off the sand whipped up by the howling winds. She could feel the grains tangle in her red locks, which would be hell to shake out later. Moondrop was none too happy herself. Constantly puffing and ruffling her feathers in discomfort.

Halditar chose one hell of a day to visit, a storm off the coast kicking up one of the nastiest sandstorms of the season. It wasn’t bad enough to deter most merchants and warriors from braving the cloud of dust, but the stock of Thanalan was a different breed. Only the end of the world itself would put a pause to any manner that involved coin.

“...Halditar? Is that you?!”

She jolted in surprise, hearing her name carried on the wind. She turned to see a small figure race out from the clouds of dust. Short, clad in green with a familiar beret. She gave a toothy, grin pulling her hood back just enough for her face to be seen.

“Totonowa! I’m surprised you recognized me, it’s been so long.” She greeted the man. He had practically been a daily part of her routine when she first arrived in Horizon. Leves had been something she did daily, the cash simply too good to pass up as a no-name adventurer.

“I was a bit unsure at first, how could I forget one of my best drinking buddies? It’s wonderful to see you again after all this time. How’s it feel, being a big hero and all that now?”

“It’s the best pain in the ass I could have ever asked for! Though, I’m trying my hand at just being an adventurer again for a while, no more going around and causing trouble on purpose. I was handling a hunt in the nearby area and decided to stop by, feeling a bit nostalgic and all that.”

“I’m glad I caught you then. Say, I was thinking of clocking out early. Why not let me treat you to a good mug of mead at the old watering hole and we can catch up?” “Ah, you still know the way to soften me up, I see. Well, I won’t say no!” With a laugh she followed the green-clad man through the stone street, seeing a familiar stone building come into sight. To see the Old Viper was still running was a relief, knowing what trouble the owner had paying off some gambling debt last they talked. All that had changed in the past few years was the paint on the sign seemed a bit sun-bleached and chipped. The door hinges no longer creaking with rust as they pushed their way in, new and freshly oiled it sounded like. Moondrop kweh’d in relief as she hid in the stables, no doubt shaking off all that sands

Through the scent of sand and salt, she could pick up hints of smoke and spice. They were preparing for dinner, no doubt. She once hadn’t been able to stomach the spice that dripped off every Thanalanese dish initially. But now she was nostalgic for the taste. Maybe she could swindle Totonowa into buying her a meal too…

The short furniture spoke to the mostly Lalafell clientele, but for now it was just the two of them as they pulled into the bar. The dim light of fire-crystals in the glass domes on each table casting low, warm light and long shadows. The colored shadows of the various glasses on the shelves danced in the flickering. With no orchestration player or typical bar murmuring to drown out the sound of the sand storm. Just the soft sounds of cooking in the back room and the hums of the Lalafell tending the bar.

“A honey mead for me, and some of that Amal’jaa liquor that just came in for my friend please. No need to water it down, I’m positive she can handle it.” Totonowa asked the barkeep she didn’t recognize, who nodded and ducked into the back, returning with two different mugs. One smelling sweet as could be, and the other… it lacked odor. A tell-tale sign whatever it had been crafted from was pure, and deadly.

“Amal’jaa liquor being sold in bars! Never thought I’d see the day.” Halditar was all smiles as she took her first sip.

Yup, it tasted pure, and rightfully terrible. The only field of reference she could conjure was the Garlond Ironworks Shop, it tasted like how their machines smelled. Pure fuel, burning down her gullet and sitting hot and angry in her gut. Swirling into a burning buzz that woke her right up. Oh, how her head would pound come morning, and how she wouldn’t regret it. It was awful. But probably expensive. Meaning it was the best of the best by Ul’dah standards.

“All thanks to you and your friends for that. Been getting a few that come by for small jobs. Most are looking for combat work, but a few have been inquiring about stone work and mining jobs. They got a nose for jewels, I’ll tell ya.”

The leve-master of Horizon then went into detail to her what all had happened in the near half-decade she had been away. The good and bad Brass Blades that came and went, new adventuring faces that left the place better than they found it, including plenty she had met in her travels across Eorzea mastering the crafts. Alcohol may have warmed her stomach, but the tales she was regaled with warmed her soul. Even getting a small glimpse into Totonowa’s life, as he went on about a baby sister she never knew he had and her apparent talent for alchemy the guild was looking to foster. “I’m just worried, I heard strange things about that guild master and alchemy as a whole. Don’t want her getting tangled up in something nasty.” He confided in the Warrior of Light. Halditar nodded, munching on slices of cooked cactuar the barkeep brought out when he realized he was in the presence of someone quite famous.

“I won’t deny Severian can be a right bastard even in the best of situations, but don’t let one bad egg make you act all overprotective. If she likes the craft and is good at it, there’s good money and work to be found in the field. Hells, from what it sounds she might get a missive from Radz-at-Han.” Halditar recalled fondly her time in the Hannish city, and all she was fortunate enough to meet. The adventure of learning about the origin of her Alchemist medal. It finally encouraged her to sit and work at making an income outside of the random bounties that came from treasures and hunts, good as those paid.

“Oh, sounds like you finally took my advice on how to make some extra dosh, eh? Good on ya. Hope crafting all that junk you gather has earned you some good coin.” Totonowa rubbed under his nose, looking all too pleased.

She just rolled her eyes. Couldn’t blame him though, he’d been entirely right. She had just been too stubborn and too impatient to learn to craft or barter, seeing the materials raw to the first person. How much more coin she could have had is she only slowed down for a second.

“Aye, been saving for a house. Got a spot of land on a nice island off Sharlayan, already have a workshop and foundation set up. Just have to follow through on the plans. The work in Tural’s been generous enough that I’m only a few months away from finally making that a reality.” Her stomach couldn’t help fluttering at the thought. Or maybe that was her gut trying to rebel against the alcohol. Either way, the idea of having a place of sanctuary and rest was something she didn’t know she had missed. Simple peace… like the kind that washed over her now, back in familiar stomping grounds.

Totonowa seemed to agree, nodding as he sipped his sweet mead… Before nearly spitting it out with wide eyes when her words settled in. “T-Tural?! You mean to tell me you’ve been across the salt?!” he choked and sputtered, coughing in sheer surprise. “Well, fuck me, thinking I had heard all your tales already! Enough of this small talk, tell me about the New World! I want to hear it all straight from the chocobo’s beak.”

Halditar was filled with mirth and glee as he asked, warning she would probably give him the worst version of the tale. But he didn’t care, and honestly she was glad for it. Just glad to talk to him about whatever. With the constant, steady buzz of alcohol in her veins, she spun him some tale of Tural. Of the Third Promise she had gone in support of, the wonderful environments and culture (and drinks, she probably went on far too much about the drinks).

She told anything, everything. It flowed from her mouth as freely as the drinks in their cups. At one point the roegadyn remembered a few people, or maybe a crowd of other travelers that came in to escape from the sand storm. All listening to her rave and rant on about the marvels to be seen in a land that to most may have very well been legend. Maybe. It could have been an alcohol induced haze, for all the sage knew.

What she did know was that come morning, she had a massive headache.

She groaned sitting up, hearing wood creak and squeal, all but scream. A look down revealed the perpetrator, a bed made for one much smaller than she, with a blanket that matched. The faintest, pale light streamed in from the window. The only signs of the sandstorm the day before being a few errant grains clinging to the thick, uneven glass. Across the room, Totonowa was splayed across the bed much more comfortably, sawing logs.

With a bit of magic and medicine, her head was right as rain as she left the inn. Paying and tipping well the barkeep that had tended to them the night before, despite any insistence it wasn’t necessary. Moondrop sang her little song in greeting to her partner, head bobbing and munching eagerly on a hearts breakfast of greens and insects. As Halditar pet the bird, she looked around at Horizon once more. She knew it would not be her first time leaving. It would not be her last time coming.

And yet, a bitter-sweet ache panged her in the chest. Nostalgia and thankfulness was an odd blend, so happy with where she was now, yet still longing for what seemed like simpler times. She could almost laugh at the idea. She was still so green, even after going to the edge of existence and back. Perhaps that was for the best. She’d rather have something new to grow into than become jaded by it all.

In a single, smooth movement she saddled up onto her bird, and rode off from Horizon. The dawn air was so crisp and clear that when she looked to the sea, she could see Vylbrand silhouetted in the distance. Her first stop was Ul’dah to drop off her hunt marks. And after that? Somewhere far, far beyond.

[bkdebtrelief]

Dealing with debt is a stressful experience, especially when bill collectors overstep boundaries by calling your job. This intrusion not only disrupts your workday but can also potentially jeopardize your employment. If you're grappling with this issue, you're not alone, and there are definitive steps you can take to protect your privacy and peace at work.

https://youtu.be/b8E58bVFmEQ

Understanding Your Rights Under the FDCPA

The Fair Debt Collection Practices Act (FDCPA) is a federal law that limits the behavior of third-party debt collectors. Knowing your rights under this act is the first step in taking control of the situation. For instance, once you inform debt collectors that your employer prohibits such calls, they must cease contacting you at your place of employment.

Effective Communication with Debt Collectors

When you first receive a call from a debt collector at work, it's crucial to remain calm and collected. Inform them directly that you are not permitted to take personal calls at work and request that they stop calling you at this number. It's advisable to follow up this verbal request with a written notice for added legal weight.

Documenting Unwanted Contact for Legal Protection

Keep a detailed record of all interactions with debt collectors, including dates, times, and the nature of the communication. This documentation can be invaluable if you need to take further action, such as filing a complaint with the Federal Trade Commission (FTC) or your state's attorney general.

The Role of Cease and Desist Letters

A cease and desist letter is a powerful tool in your arsenal. This written document serves as a formal request for debt collectors to stop all communication with you. While this won't erase the debt, it will halt the harassing calls and give you some breathing room to figure out your next steps.

Negotiating with Creditors and Debt Collectors

If the debt is valid, consider negotiating with the creditor or the collection agency. You may be able to arrange a payment plan or even settle the debt for less than the full amount owed. Remember, it's in their interest as much as yours to find a resolution.

Legal Recourse Against Harassment

Should the calls persist despite your requests, you have the right to take legal action against the debt collectors. The FDCPA provides consumers with the ability to sue for violations of its provisions, which can include financial penalties for the offending agency.

https://www.reddit.com/r/ExpertReviews/comments/17q302c/how_do_i_stop_a_bill_collector_from_calling_my_job/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3

The Impact of Ignoring Debt Collection Calls

While it might be tempting to ignore debt collectors entirely, this approach can have serious repercussions, including negative marks on your credit report and potential legal action against you. It's better to confront the issue head-on with the protections afforded to you by law.

Preventative Measures for the Future

To prevent future issues, be proactive about managing your debts and maintaining open lines of communication with creditors before they reach the collections stage. Additionally, regularly reviewing your credit report can help you stay on top of any potential discrepancies or fraudulent activities.

In conclusion, while bill collectors have a job to do, they must also respect your rights as a consumer. By understanding and utilizing the protections available to you, you can stop debt collectors from calling your job and regain control over your financial situation and your workday. Remember, you have the power to manage these interactions and protect your rights.

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[scentedchildnacho]

The role of Cities in a World Economy (Interview with Saskia Sassen - C...

She kind of lost me about sympathy for commuters....and new cities.....commuters are usually very difficult to like because their intention is Trojan horse and the movement of it is gentrification

I have become the type of slavish poor woman that eventually has understood Africans and what is this woman completely without agency that can't learn she doesn't live there so don't ask it for things you don't give back there

Uhm i have become poor enough to film the low income class for the depravity and narcississm and addiction it's become and i dont feel bad for indentured servitude their cops in intent

I do feel bad for the criminal or unappreciated but driving around I'm sorry that's not suffering

I mean I'm very poor and roughly battered and detained so I have no confederate looking glass and leisure like green leaves Daniel.....but I don't care at all about their story of justified piracy

Very harsh judge I have the robotics to not be assaulted by any more bodies I haven't asked for get away from me

Salome?....I'm sorry but the things felons go through like care for a bloody head on the ground near a jail toilet for commuters to consider acting in bar ville Mississippi ...

Salome as women's hygiene when is she going to finally file toxic shock through the whole dance sequence

That to me is the meaning of Armenia if low income women cannot generate taxation then eventually it falls into its shadow or subconscious

Then having to think about new cities for low income people turns it into this gas monster that devours everything in sight....if new cities went to people criminal that makes sense that's all I have ever known it to be

But as really poor I more like Edward said...I have to be told in it I'm better then an inner city and I'm not or I'm a new enough immigrant for a new city and I'm not it's just a debt monster that looks like epochs of bad hellish karma

Edward said is kind of a voice of reason like why do I have to be unhappy with what is where else would someone like me be.....why would my generational influence have more or better then decline makes no sense really what special merit or moral am I

Saskia sassen is a neo nazi then .. people who stalk many disenfranchised people with commuter low income whores threaten people more with pure breed expression retards

Truth is I maybe will survive because things here are not mine ..and if it's the woman needed here drives in as a paramilitary force that distributes aid and directly intervenes in the work force terrorism....showing up as whore to quickly steal money from refugees is not going to be okay

Situations here for disabled people might be even worse then Iraq....and if people aren't france then most people around low incomes will die of pre existing conditions because no one qualified showed up just creepy pick things off front line miseries

And that's why I can't have basic relief normalcy and restoration creepy people like sasskia help Caligula have a new gladiator dome

Ultimately it is latin america and football players do have to battle lions and tigers....and I after attempted opossum attacks or elk tramplings have to say I forgive how butt fuck nasty people?....low income....butt fuckers

I have seen shelters and schools and quite frankly domination and submission starts again because it's more canadians that stalk harass and scare people of fucker witches

I wouldn't call sasskia crazy so much as a really frightening Canadian hooker that people don't know the inuit for ....things truly eve ill and I've never seen a split personality that virulent before are from the far north

Intuit svavar the colonial light is truly brutal.....I don't speak many de possessions but sasskia can?

Ive looked into if my pre existing condition and mental health rights to be re placed with a physicalist are way off normal expectation and I've found out I was a well baby with an easy common neurobiological complaint not obscure untranslateable words like schizophrenia.....and most low incomes are trained in the worst prejudices like euthanize a genetic complaint and kill themselves

My condition is 90s Clinton the phenyl multiple sclerosis fragile x syndrome appears most relevant to my condition and sasskia is the worst most terrifying thing I can think of for my executive reasoning faculties

I'm sorry but a common street prostitute has better data and information then sasskia honey don't go around kissing him you don't though know where he has been

[ailtrahq]

On September 29, Kevin O’Leary, Chairman of O’Leary Ventures and ‘Shark Tank’ investor, offers a detailed analysis of the government shutdown, crypto regulation, and the commercial real estate crisis on Fox Business show Varney & Co. (which is hosted by Stuart Varney). Government Shutdown: A Non-Issue for Investors Kevin O’Leary expressed that he is not overly concerned about a government shutdown from an investor’s standpoint. He believes that the market is largely indifferent to such events, as they usually get resolved within a short period, typically around 10 days. O’Leary clarified that a government shutdown is not a debt default but rather a result of politicians failing to cooperate. He emphasized that when such shutdowns start affecting the daily lives of voters, politicians usually find a way to resolve the issues. He also noted that the shutdown is more damaging to politicians’ brands than to the market, as it exposes their inability to govern effectively. As CryptoGlobe reported earlier, on 30 September, the United States Senate narrowly averted a government closure by approving a temporary funding bill just three hours before the federal agencies were due to shut down. As reported by CNBC, President Joe Biden immediately enacted the legislation, ensuring that federal operations continue for an additional 45 days. The provisional funding solution, formally referred to as HR 5860, provides extra time for both legislative chambers to solidify their budgetary agendas. The bill, consisting of 71 pages and orchestrated by House Speaker Kevin McCarthy, designates money for emergency relief but does not offer any fresh financial support for Ukraine’s continuing strife with Russia. Earlier on the same day, the House of Representatives had given the green light to the short-term funding measure, passing it with a 335 to 91 vote. The House plans to recommence its lawmaking sessions on the upcoming Monday. Digital Currency Regulation: Stifling Innovation Kevin O’Leary expressed significant concern about the state of digital currency regulation in the United States. He attended a recent digital currency hearing and was struck by the level of criticism aimed at SEC Chairman Gary Gensler. O’Leary described the atmosphere as one where Gensler was “fried like a chicken,” emphasizing the intensity of the scrutiny. He expressed frustration over Gensler’s approach to regulation, stating that it is causing the U.S. to lose its innovative edge in the crypto space. O’Leary revealed an upcoming development in Abu Dhabi that could potentially shift the center of crypto innovation away from the U.S. According to him, Abu Dhabi is planning to launch a new digital currency exchange called M2. This exchange aims to be fully compliant and is backed by billions of dollars, offering transparent and stable ownership. O’Leary emphasized that M2 is designed to replace both FTX and Binance, two major exchanges that have faced regulatory hurdles in the U.S. He argued that M2 could become the new standard in digital currency exchanges, particularly because holding cryptocurrencies like Bitcoin requires an exchange for liquidity. According to a report by The Daily Hodl, he said: “This hasn’t been announced yet, but in Abu Dhabi, they are planning to launch a new exchange to replace both FTX and Binance, and they’re going to get billions [of dollars] on it called M2. [It is going to be] totally compliant, backed by billions of dollars, incredibly stable, ownership transparency and it can be used by anybody in the world legitimately on a compliant basis… It’s going to become the new standard in exchanges because you can’t hold Bitcoin without an exchange for liquidity.“ Furthermore, O’Leary mentioned that two bills related to digital currency are currently going through Congress, and Gensler is blocking them. This has led to a lot of frustration among lawmakers who feel that the U.S. is letting innovation slip away.

O’Leary argued that such developments indicate that innovation is shifting away from the U.S. to other countries like the UAE, making it a missed opportunity for the United States. Commercial Real Estate: A Looming Crisis O’Leary warned of a growing crisis in the commercial real estate sector, particularly concerning regional banks. He explained that many buildings are financed with debt raised at lower interest rates, and now they are facing refinancing at much higher rates, making them uneconomic. O’Leary pointed out that this situation could put significant pressure on the loan books of regional banks, which could, in turn, affect small businesses. He also mentioned that the debt was raised for these buildings at rates of 3-5%, and now they are dealing with 9-14% in refinancing them, making these buildings uneconomic. A Plan to Protect Payroll Accounts To mitigate the impact of failing regional banks, O’Leary endorsed a plan proposed by Senator Hagerty. The plan aims to guarantee payroll accounts in these banks for up to $100 million for 24 months. O’Leary argued that this should be a bipartisan issue as it aims to protect jobs in America. He emphasized that this is not a bailout but a necessary measure to ensure financial stability and protect employment. O’Leary’s Involvement in Washington O’Leary mentioned that he visits Washington every month to understand the political climate better. He believes that being physically present in the halls of power is the best way to influence policy, particularly for small businesses. O’Leary stressed that merely writing letters or sending tweets is not enough; one has to meet the policymakers and their staffers to make a real impact. [embed]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YFx0fvKb9LU[/embed] Featured Image via Unsplash