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thedeepestwarmestblue · 16 days ago

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strawberry ice cream surrender (let me be your girl)

gave this to @stevehairringtn to beta and she said no notes so here we are. the companion piece for this post which has eaten me alive bite for bite since I first laid eyes on it.

model is zakary smith, zaxxmith on instagram

Read it on AO3

Steve walks out of his house wearing the tiniest bikini bottoms Billy’s ever seen and Billy thinks he tweaked something in his neck from how fast he’d done a double take. Coughing up the Cola he’d just sipped, making his nose burn. Robin close behind him in — Steve’s striped swim shorts, one of his gauzy linen button downs on over her bikini top, which was the same shade of pink that was now barely keeping Steve in place.

They’d — split the suit.

Jesus knows why — but Billy was not about to be the first one to ask questions when Christmas had come early, the prettiest of packages all wrapped up in babydoll pink and silver sparkling string.

Billy, who had been doing nothing but minding his own business watching the clouds go by, few and far between on a day like today, was now questioning every single decision that had led up to this moment.

Come over Saturday, Steve had said when he’d called, we can go swimming. It’s supposed to be wicked hot. Sure, Billy had agreed, no problemo — because it was part of his summer routine now, going over to Steve’s. Nothing Billy hadn’t seen dozens of times before, in Steve’s pool, at the public one, at the high school.

Billy knew how to control himself.

Mostly.

Or at least he thought he had, but —

No one had prepared him for this.

Or maybe Steve had and Billy hadn’t been listening close enough, too busy daydreaming about the promise of all that golden boy skin to read between the lines.

He hadn’t known Steve had been talking about himself.

For Chrissakes there were lace up ties on his hips.

Motherfucking bows —

Robin makes a noise and turns suddenly on her heel, marching back into the house like she forgot something.

Wait. Had they planned this?

Fresh sweat springs to the base of Billy’s neck, his palms, as Steve tiptoes his way across the deck towards Billy like a goddamn show horse, broad shoulders slinking down to his tiny waist, puppy belly long and lean and taut, the fabric of his bottoms riding that much higher with every step and Billy’s mouth positively waters —

Billy pulls his towel into his lap. Starts to feel the first hint of heatstroke when Steve sits down next to him, blushing pink as his strawberry ice cream suit, his necklaces layered in glittering gold in the sun. A perfect banana split sundae, all for Billy. One that he wouldn’t mind having all over his face.

Billy’s back teeth start to ache at the thought.

What the fuck was he supposed to do —

“Hi,” Steve says softly when all Billy does is stare, fingers twisting on themselves in his lap in a helpless attempt to cover himself. The waves in his hair starting to curl in the humidity, falling into his dark eyes.

God, he’s gorgeous, Billy thinks.

“What the hell are you wearin’?,” is what comes out of Billy’s mouth instead. The other three quarters of his brain still on a slow slide down the smooth brown lines of Steve’s body.

He smells like tanning oil, coconut and vanilla, and Billy’s head has disconnected clean from his mouth, which keeps talking, the heat in his groin getting his tongue loose in the worst way.

“I mean, shit, Harrington, I didn’t know they let the bunnies out on the weekends to play.”

Billy didn’t see a single tan line. Which meant —

Steve gives a weak laugh, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck, turning it as pink as his heated cheeks.

“Shut up. It’s Robin’s, obviously. Her mom got it for her, but she hates it, so I offered to … switch.”

“Uh huh,” Billy trails stupidly, too busy putting this puzzle together to think of something cool, clever. He’s staring, and knows it too. This was Steve’s place, so he must have other swim clothes, which could only mean he wanted to wear it —

Jesus.

This was really — way too much for Billy on a day like today. The raw blue sky above them pushing out almost a hundred degrees of heat and humidity and Billy was feeling thirsty for something no tall glass of water could possibly quench.

A shy smile presses its way into Steve’s cheek like he knew exactly what he was doing to Billy, and still he was … absolutely darling.

Billy was so doomed.

Steve wasn’t even — wet, yet.

Jesus.

“I know it’s a little weird,” Steve says, his hands doing that thing when he was nervous, pulling on the gold hoop that was fit snug in his earlobe. The one Billy had put there himself, thought about too many times to count. Falling asleep with the taste of metal in his mouth.

“But it’s, like, basically a speedo. They wear those in Europe, I think?” Steve is rambling now. “And it’s just pink … and like, guys can wear pink too, right? —”

Billy doesn’t respond. Cannot get two brain cells to connect in any way that matters. His tongue tied to the roof of his mouth.

Steve slows, stops, his dark eyes flicking up at Billy and then down, pink cheeks deep like sunburn with growing nerves and Billy knows that look, the one where Billy’s coming off as an asshole and he’s kicking himself, say something, anything —

Steve swallows hard, long fingers playing with the end of a silver ribbon, twisting it tight until his skin flushes purple, then releasing it.

“Do you, um — do you —”

He’s interrupted by Robin, who Billy had all but forgotten was here in this private sticky slow pink bubble Steve had blown. She hollers for him from the open patio door to come help her, her arms full of wobbling drinks and snacks and the thin film around them breaks with a snap.

Steve leaps to his feet and goes to her like she’s caught fire.

There are rhinestones in the shape of a butterfly on his ass.

———————————————————

The relentlessness of the sun overhead slows the afternoon down to an ooze.

Billy’s kept it as lowkey as he can, playing it cool behind the safety of his sunglasses, listening to them talk, laugh. Not really contributing anything to the conversation, though Steve’s been glancing at him, probably wondering why he’s being so quiet.

He has to be. Because the next thing popping out of Billy’s mouth would either be telling Robin to fuck off or begging Steve to come sit in his lap.

Maybe both. Shooting off like he did.

Billy blows out a breath. He should have known better.

Stayed home.

An hour could have slid by, or maybe three, for all Billy cares. It’s better than anything his hormone addled brain could have whipped up. Making him feel like he was sixteen again, watching Steve eat fruit salad with his fingers. Pull himself up out of the turquoise waters like something out of a magazine, or Billy’s private movie collection, and finally, the cherry on top, working on a rapidly melting vanilla cone, lapping up the creamy white rivers that ran down to his wrist, filling Billy’s head up with way too many ideas.

Billy hadn’t had any of it, too busy eating his fill with his eyes.

He was going to need a cold, cold shower when he got back to his place.

If he even made it that far.

Resist temptation, his dad always told him when he was growing up. Say no to drugs, and other bullshit. So much easier said than done without Steve’s perfect cherry pie ass in his face. Making him want to grab a quarter just to see the arc.

He’s not really sure how many more of these visuals he can take when all hell breaks loose.

They’d retreated to the shade as soon as the refreshments had run out but still the heat in Billy’s head must have risen to dangerous levels because one minute Steve is complaining about not having landed a date in ages, which Billy couldn’t understand for the life of him but was not complaining, and the next Billy hears himself blurt out, “Why would you need a girlfriend when you got me?”

The following silence is oppressive, choking and stifling like the heat crawling its way up Billy’s chest and into his throat. The butterflies that have been living inside him since he’d met Steve eight years back dying between one heartbeat and the next.

Billy stares deep into his lap, wishing for the end. For years and years he’d kept it under wraps and now? He’s too afraid to look when he hears Steve push himself up off his chair where he’d been reclining on his stomach to look back at Billy and Billy can’t even breathe —

He’s even shocked Robin silent, which is a miracle in and of itself, and Billy should have got the fuck out of here an hour ago when Steve had first walked out and Billy still had a chance at making it out alive. Made up some bullshit lie, like he’d forgotten to do something, anything except lose the best friend he’s ever had, like this —

“What did you just say?,” Steve asks as Robin lets out a wild, nervous giggle and Billy’s never hated her so much. He feels his eyes start to burn. All of it coming to a rolling boil. Robin this, Robin that. Steve slipping through his fingers like sand since they’d met.

Sharing a fucking swimsuit, like they were together, even though Steve had sworn up and down they weren’t, that Robin didn’t even play in his league, whatever that meant.

Billy didn’t believe him for one second.

If she hadn’t been here, this whole fucking day never would have happened —

Steve turns to her with a pointed, snippy, “Hey, Rob?”

Billy chokes back a sharp laugh, feels the corners of his mouth lift in a snarl.

Steve doesn’t even have to say, give us a minute?, before she’s standing, pushing her chair back with a loud scrape across the concrete. She’s got her hand held up like, say no more, and makes a run for it, exiting from the conversation with a free pass that Billy would never be so fortunate to get.

Billy takes the opening when he sees it and gets the hell out of there too. Ignoring the sound of Steve calling his name. Only thinking about the solitude of the Camaro in the driveway, locking himself in and driving it out to the highest lookout point within county lines he could find, then straight through the guardrails.

“Billy, wait!” Steve shouts, swearing as his long colt legs get tangled up in his chair, tripping over himself.

It buys Billy a few seconds.

Barefoot, the black pavement of the driveway is hot enough to blister. Billy all but runs to his car, the world around him swimming as he fumbles with his keys. Closes the door behind him and his racing heart, and locks himself in.

The interior of the car is sweltering. The leather scalding where it’s sealing itself to his bare skin.

Billy could just sit here until he passes out. That would work too.

Already it was getting harder to breathe.

But really, he needs to leave.

He puts the key in the ignition and nothing happens. The familiar roar a weak overheated cough.

Whatever control he has left breaks, and he slams his hand down on the steering wheel, roaring out a ragged, “Fuck!”

He looks up just as Steve rounds the corner and groans out loud. His own personal episode of Baywatch, and this wasn’t heaven, or hell, so he must be somewhere in between, with both sides laughing at him.

And then Steve’s at his window, pretty in Billy’s picture frame. Leaning down, hands on his knees to give Billy those fucking puppy eyes.

Billy turns away, presses his forehead hard into the steering wheel, wishing it was the barrel of a gun.

“Why are you running away from me?” Steve asks, his voice muffled through the glass as he tries the handle. Like the answer hasn’t been shown to him time and time again.

Billy lifts his head and flips him off instead of looking at him.

“C’mon, don’t be like that,” Steve says, standing up, putting his hands on his hips. His hands so big his fingertips almost touch in the middle. It makes Billy sick. “Open the door.”

Billy doesn’t respond. Gritting his teeth against that glorious view just in his peripherals, almost close enough to touch. Staring resolutely ahead through the windshield, the hot lick of shame still sweeping over him, making the back of his neck prickle. He might die in here but at least it was safer than out there, where he had to talk, explain —

Steve knocks, tries the handle again, a pleading note entering his voice. “Bills, c’mon, please don’t do this. You’re gonna get sick.”

Billy ignores him, and the bead of sweat trickling down his throat.

“Billy,” Steve says, one last time. Voice getting deeper, sharper, that bitchy tone that always got Billy hot edging in.

Billy swallows hard. It was almost over, he just needed to hold out a little longer.

“I mean it. Stop playing around, it’s way too hot —”

When Billy still doesn’t unlock the door, roll the window down, give Steve any indication he’s coming out any time soon, Billy hears him sigh, swear through the glass. Watches from the corner of his eye as Steve backs up. Retreating, nodding to himself as he runs a hand back through his hair. Like he knew, in a fight, when the bull and the ram go head to head, only one can win.

Something like relief in his veins, and Billy closes his eyes.

———————————————————

Steve and Robin are arguing, loudly, by the time Billy stumbles back into the house. Holding onto the doorframe for support, dizzy from the heat, the shock of the air conditioned house, from standing up too quickly. The soles of his feet sore and throbbing in time with his pulse from the scalding pavement.

He’s going to have blisters the size of golf balls later.

Steve’s back is to Billy, but Robin sees him come in. She’s wide eyed and pale, something like regret twisting in her features as she takes the brunt of Steve’s heat.

“Steve —,” she tries to say, but Steve barrels over her.

“No,” he snarls, his hands everywhere, yanking a shirt on over his head, snapping a pair of shorts into place over his swim bottoms and Billy feels something like grief. “You don’t get it, Robin. He’d rather suffocate himself to death out in his car than talk to me! He won’t even look at me! God, I can’t believe I listened to you! Oh, Billy’s going to lose his mind over you in that, give me a fucking break — him?! What was I thinking?! Letting you talk me into looking like such a — a — fag!”

His voice breaks and Robin flinches. Billy does too, knocking back into the doorframe with his shoulder, the word like a heavy handed slap from his father, taking the air right out of his lungs.

Steve whirls on his heel at the sound.

“Billy,” he breathes, all his anger washing out at the sight of him, replaced with worry that Billy doesn’t deserve. “Oh my God, are you okay?” Those dark fawn eyes scanning him head to toe as he takes a step toward Billy, reaching for him out of habit before freezing, remembering himself.

Steve takes his hand back, “I — come in, please. Sit down, let me get you some water.”

He doesn’t wait for Billy to respond before he’s walking away, pressing a cold glass into Billy’s hands, stiff and swollen from the heat. Watching him with liquid care as he drains it, refilling it without Billy even having to ask. Billy almost feels like crying again, but he’ll be damned before he does it in front of Robin fucking Buckley.

The room lapses into silence when he’s had his fill, only the whir of the AC pushing through the vents. Steve is looking at him expectantly but – they have company. Billy slides his gaze pointedly over to Robin and Steve mirrors him.

“Oh,” Steve says, as if remembering they have an audience. “Hey, Rob? Can you —?”

Robin blinks back at Steve, not getting it.

“Do you, like, mind?” Billy asks, raising an eyebrow, motioning towards the door when she doens’t move.

“Oh!” She says, jolting into action. “Right, sorry!”

Billy fights to not roll his eyes. Steve gives him that look like, be nice and calls, “You can take my bike!” to her retreating back. Then the front door is closing behind her and it’s just the two of them.

Steve sinks down to sit on the couch next to him, butterfly fingers fluttering at the hem of his shirt, his shorts, twisting the fabric into knots. His dark eyes fixed on Billy’s bare chest, where he can probably see his heart beating its bloody way out.

They speak at the same time.

“Are you —”

“You shouldn’t —”

“Sorry, you go —” they blurt out in tandem, again.

Steve gives a weak laugh, pulls at his earring. Getting Billy all liquid inside.

“You go,” Billy repeats, trying to give himself a little more time before this house on fire that he’s spent years building collapses under him.

Steve nods, runs a hand back through his hair, “Are you okay?”

Billy’s heart clenches in his chest, his constant kindness a real thorn in Billy’s side.

“Yeah, I’m uh, I’m good. Thanks.”

They go quiet again, and for all the years that they’ve been friends, after all their arguments, it’s never felt like this. Like pulling teeth with no anesthesia.

Steve looks down at his hands, “What were you going to say?”

“Oh,” Billy says, “Uh — it’s not right, you callin’ yourself that.”

Steve nods but doesn’t respond, watching his own fingers folding the hem of his shorts over and over itself.

“So …” Steve finally says, “About what you said, earlier —”

Billy groans, “Steve, we really don’t have to —”

“Did you mean it?”

He’s staring at Billy’s chest. Billy falters though the answer is obvious. One syllable. Right at the tip of his tongue.

“Did you?” Billy asks.

Steve glances up at him and smiles, just a corner, like he knows all Billy’s tricks and had been expecting this.

“Did I what?”

“Did you wear that for me?” Billy asks, tilting his chin down to motion at Steve’s lap.

Steve blushes deep. He looks down, then up, locking those brilliant fawn eyes on Billy that have had him falling on repeat, day after day, year after year.

“If I tell you the truth, will you too?”

Always testing him.

Billy nods anyways.

Steve takes a breath, lets it out, “I did. I told you it was her mom who got it but .. it was Robin’s idea. She saw me eyeing it in the store and convinced me to try it. She .. thought you might like it.”

Billy is struck speechless. No one knew about him. No one. He’d been so careful. And yet, Robin? Had clocked him?

“Was she right?”

Billy finds his faith and tells him what he should have from the start.

“God, yes,” he breathes, “You look gorgeous.”

Steve’s answering smile is soft around the edges, like the rainbow, "Yeah?"

Billy finds his fingers are reaching, curling into the wavy edge of Steve’s tee to get another peek. He lifts it an inch, then two, tracing the backs of his knuckles along the baby soft skin of his belly. Relishing in the way Steve shivers from his touch.

“Can I see it again?” Billy asks softly.

Steve nods, then stands in front of Billy, his eyes dark as he pushes the waistband down, and Billy knows he looks just as hungry.

“This too?” Billy asks, plucking at the hem of his tee.

“You trying to get me naked?” Steve asks as he pulls his shirt over his head, a smirk curling into that perfect pink pout.

“You started it,” Billy shrugs with a smile, spreading his thighs so Steve can step in close to him. Wanting to get his hands all over him, now.

Steve laughs as he looks down at him, fitting his fingers into his hair, playing with the curls at the base of Billy’s neck, sending chills down his spine.

“You never answered my question.”

Billy drags his gaze away from the path of his hands as they smooth up miles and miles of unclaimed golden coastline, “Hm?”

“Did you mean it?” Steve murmurs, “That you wanna be with me?”

Billy takes his hand and threads their fingers together, tugging him closer. Steve comes easy, folding his fawn legs down around Billy, settling into his lap, right where he belongs. His skin hot like silk against Billy’s own, the final puzzle piece slotting into place when Billy tangles his fingers in those silver ties, holding fast.

“Without question,” he whispers, before sealing their mouths together.

#Smitten Steve 🤝 Robin scheming on some dumb shit #jealous pining and desperate Billy has my whole heart #the amount of photos that inspired this ficlet were MANY #juicy delicious cotton candy bubblegum pink summer #melty ice cream #and half to three quarters naked boys #yes please #harringrove #harringrove fic #steve harrington #billy hargrove #steve x billy #billy x steve #steveandbilly #my writing #do not repost

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dollfacefantasy · 10 months ago

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CONCEALED CARRY ♡

pairing: ada wong x fem!reader

summary: you have a fixation with a certain weapon strapped to ada's thigh, one that she is more than happy to indulge in.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, oral sex (f receiving), knife play

wc: 1.7k

kinktober slot: day 15 - knife play

The slender, silver blade drags in a thin line between your breasts. You shudder at the chill the metal brings you. It feels almost as cool as her gaze on your face.

"Is this what you wanted, baby?" she asks.

Her scent clouds the air around you. The heady richness permeates your senses and gets you feeling lightheaded before she's even really done anything. Everything about her adds onto that sensation in this moment. From the warm weight of her body on top of yours to the sight of her in that form fitting red dress, all of it makes your heart beat faster.

When you don't answer, a small smirk tugs at her lips. She recedes back onto her knees between your thighs. The rest of her body is flattened out like a stretching cat. She drags the smooth surface of the knife down your belly.

"I see the way you stare at it," she taunts. Her dark eyes remain on yours, staring a hole into your psyche.

You shudder at both the implication and the position she has you in now. Your nipples begin to pebble beneath your thin bralette. Unlike Ada in her alluring outfit still on from work, you're dressed much more delicately. Light colors cover your chest and hips with matching lace bordering the garments.

"I just like watching you," you defend. Your own voice comes out much quieter and with less certainty.

She chuckles. The blade slides lower on your tummy. She hooks the point beneath the elastic of the waistband on your panties. The dainty fabric goes taut as it's drawn upward.

"Don't lie to me, darling. It's not me you're focused on," she continues.

You know she's telling the truth. This isn't the first time you'd done this, just the first time she's called you out.

She'd been gone all day today, off at some meetings to set up her next contract. Darkness had long settled outside by the time she came home. You were tucked away in bed, awaiting her return. When she finally entered through your bedroom door, the first thing she did after greeting you was undress. You were already in your sleeping attire, and she was ready to do the same for herself.

Standing between her side of the mattress and the wardrobe, she first unzipped her tall boots. The black leather parted to reveal her smooth legs. While removing the shoes, she stood with her limb hiked on the end post of the bed. It caused her dress to ride up enough so that you could see the holster that held her knife pressed against her flesh.

You're not sure what always attracts your eyes to study the thick handle and tight black straps fastening it around her muscle, but without fail, that's where they always fixate.

And this time, she'd noticed. You were staring long enough that she couldn't just drop it.

She pulls the knife more against your panties, wordlessly threatening to snap the hem of them into two. You take your lip between your teeth as you watch. Regardless of how obvious it was, you still aren't so eager to admit your affinity for sharp blades being in such close quarters to your body.

But she's determined to get that out of you.

"I notice it every time. Each time you see it, you almost start drooling," she mocks.

Your hips squirm a little, but the movements don't aid you in escaping from her teasing.

She pulls the point of the blade loose from your underwear and drags the smooth side down the top of your thigh instead. A small noise of automatic shock leaves your lips. Her eyes flit between your limb and your face.

"Why the panic? Isn't this what you want?" she asks.

A heavy breath leaves you, but you nod. This was exactly what you wanted, the physical evidence of that already collecting between your thighs.

She rises all the way back onto her knees now. Temporarily dropping the knife beside her, she uses her hands to remove her dress. Her body stands before you like a statue. In the dim light of your room, her skin glows the most beautiful, warm shade you could ever imagine. Black lingerie covers her curves. Her hands glide over her figure before she lowers herself again. You know she does it to tease you, but fuck, it works perfectly.

Her face sits inches away from your cunt. She merely stares at the junction of your thighs for a few moments, leaving you to marinate in anticipation. You take that time to admire the back of her body, in view from how she lies on her stomach.

Soon, her thumb comes up and rubs at your clothed center. You whimper at the feather light touch, feeling the smallest spark of stimulation. The pad of her digit swipes up and down. It traces from your clit to the bottom of your entrance.

"You're so wet, babydoll," she purrs, "I can feel it soaking through already."

Your cheeks heat up, and your body slumps down against the pillows a little more.

"I missed you," you try to justify.

"I don't think that's what has you all hot and bothered," she responds.

Reaching over your leg, she grabs the weapon she previously put aside. She drags the blunt edge back up your leg and across your hip bone. You watch every inch of its journey.

She brings it to rest on your pelvis. It sits there, balancing on the flesh of your lower belly. She directs her attention back to the pussy in front of her face. Leaning in, she kisses over the space her finger had just traced.

Her lips press against the fabric, each little peck pulling another sound from you. She swears she can taste you already, but that may be just because your scent is so strong. Her soft tongue slips out to kitten lick your little nub over the fabric.

"Ada," you whimper. You're trying really hard to hold still. She hadn't said it, though it was implied you were supposed to keep her knife where she placed it.

"What, baby?" she asks and looks up at you, "Getting impatient?"

You nod, your normal pout starting to grace your features.

She smiles at that and grabs the handle of the blade again. Her slender fingers wrap around the thick base and guide it down between your legs. Your muscles tense up on instinct.

You trust her implicitly, but the image of something so sharp down there triggers a primal part of your brain beyond control.

Before you can ask what she plans to do with it, she slowly moves the point above your center. Bringing it down, she snags it on the fabric of your panties. She jerks it, the movement rough but also precise. You remain as motionless as possible. This is the most well-behaved she's ever seen you. Maybe the two of you would have to play with this toy more often.

The blade glides through the cloth with no resistance. You flinch a little, but the action happens without you feeling so much as a scratch. Your breasts heave with each breath you take now. They feel heavier with the mix of arousal and anxiety.

She puts the knife down again so her fingers can pull apart the tear in your underwear. The sound of fabric ripping fills your ears as she reveals your drippy cunt to her eyes.

"Such a needy girl," she coos when she sees how your folds glisten with arousal.

"Just for you," you add in defense of yourself.

That makes her smile before she closes the distance between her mouth and your cunt. Her tongue darts out this time to get a real taste. Your head falls back at the feeling of her licking your tender bundle of nerves. Her movements are calculated, performed in a way she knows from experience will work you up further.

You whine, your legs squirming on either side of her while your toes curl at the foot of the bed. She opens and closes her lips, making out with your cunt as her tongue laves over you and teases the possibility of pushing inside.

"F-fuck," you stammer out, eyes drooping with the weight of your desire.

She loops her arms around your thighs to hold you in place. It was something she normally did when she could tell you were about to start getting fidgety. But right now, there's one key difference in comparison to most other times.

Right now, one of her hands holds the smooth side of the blade to your belly. The metallic surface chills you to the core, causing chills to break out across your skin. You're at no real risk of being sliced since she has the sharp edge tilted upward, but the feeling of it there, the idea of that control, it has you gushing all over her chin.

Your moans increase in volume and frequency, the pitchy sounds bursting from you without restraint. She can feel your legs going taut with the urge to buck your hips. Pulling back, she gives you a warning look.

"Better not squirm, sweetheart. Wouldn't want you to hurt yourself," she says.

Somehow the words hit you with heat. They drive you closer to the edge like a cylinder block left on a gas pedal. You keep your ass flush against the mattress as if it's glued there.

"I can't- ah- I'm gonna cum," you whine.

She doesn't respond verbally, only ups the fervor with which she eats you out. A squeal erupts from you, and your fingers dig into your bedding. Your thighs tremble violently against each side of her head.

Your release washes over you in waves. The first is the most intense, hitting you all at once and bringing you so high up. Then you start fizzling down, descending the slopes of pleasure as her tongue massages your pussy through it.

You manage to keep still for the most part throughout the whole thing. Once most of the pleasure has run its course, she pulls back. Her mouth leaves your soaked cunt and the tattered remnants of your panties that surround it.

When she discards the knife to the side, your muscles fully relax. She crawls up your body, tilting your chin up with the bow of her index finger. A small kiss lands on your lips, and you're sure you can taste yourself on her lips.

"Such a good girl for me," she whispers when the two of you part again, "Next time maybe I'll leave a little mark."

#ada wong x reader #ada wong smut #ada wong x you #ada wong x y/n #resident evil x reader #resident evil smut #resident evil x you #resident evil imagines #ch: ada wong 💌

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qldqueerboy · 3 months ago

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You may be extremely disappointed at all the lies and insincerity from the behaviour of the people around you today. Somewhere at the deepest level you know that the expression "every cloud has a silver lining” will ring completely true soon in changing your viewpoint. It is only a matter of holding positive and joyful thoughts until it comes to pass.

#gypsy reader #gypsy reading #gipsy fortune telling cards #gypsy deck #gypsy card reader #gypsy card reading #gypsy fortune telling deck #divination #fortune telling #fortune teller #message for the collective #gay pagan

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fullofwoe5321 · 1 month ago

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Weyler Nation! A quick WS2 Part 2 - I forgot to talk about 2 important points about Wednesday's arc.

SPOILER ALERT: MORE QUESTIONS THAN ANSWERS!

Yeah, I know the last part is about Tyler and I am already writing. But I swear the points of today are important to Weyler. Check it out:

1- The killer cuts Wednesday's eyes out of the pic:

This is creepy af! I wonder why they do that...

The first thing which came up to my mind was about removing the eyes can symbolize the killer’s desire to control how Wednesday sees the world, or to eliminate her ability to "see" him, metaphorically or literally. Eyes are often seen as the "windows to the soul," so damaging them can represent domination over her identity or essence.

I also thought about the killer may want Wednesday to be “blind” to something perhaps their identity, actions, or plans. Symbolically removing her eyes implies a desire to keep secrets or maintain dominance through secrecy.

I mean the fact that the killer might know about Wednesday's black tears and the fact he is removing her eyes out of pics is very specific. WHAT DOES HE WANT? DOES HE KNOW ABOUT HER FAMILY SECRET?

Now pay attention:

The frame with the pair of glasses and Wednesday with an eyeball on this specific position made me think with the possibility of the Killer may be removing the eyes of the victims and THIS WOULD BE INSANE!!! I wonder if the killer wants to possess Wednesday's powers somehow. or if the killer is herself as I theorized: WHY IS SHE DOING THAT? DOES SHE WANT TO GET RID OF HER POWERS?

BUT every cloud has silver lining.

2- The Fencing

It's really curious they have showed Wednesday and Morticia fencing blindfolded. It's a foreshadowing.

My theory is that there will be a point that Wednesday cant trust herself or her vision anymore. I'm guessing she will need to trust PEOPLE and that's something that challenges the core of who she is and forces her to confront both her greatest fear and her greatest flaw. To trust is to go against her very nature.

and here I'm already going to spoiler you with some Weyler content..

From Season 1, Wednesday is fiercely independent, hyper-rational, and emotionally guarded. She sees vulnerability as weakness and often mocks emotional connection.

Trusting others means surrendering control, something she hates.

To trust someone, she’d have to believe they won’t betray her, lie to her, or fail her. And that belief is antithetical to how she views the world: cold, deceptive, and dangerous. AND WITH WHOM SHE'S GOING TO TEAM UP ?

With her ex who is unpredictable, manipulative, dangerous and unreliable. Can you imagine how it sounds insane to Wednesday to trust Tyler again? But here I say: I don't think she will trust he's not going to disappoint her again(maybe she is already expecting a deceptive move by him). SHE WILL TRUST HE'S NOT GONNA KILL HER. HOW? Food for thought.

Her powers are tied to isolation and pain. Her psychic visions are triggered by touch and intense emotion.These powers are both a gift and a burden, and they’ve made her feel different, even among outcasts. She sees herself as a loner wolf because being close to others, emotionally or physically, is painful. And Tyler traumatized her! Mark my words!

Trusting others would mean accepting the pain of connection as something necessary, not avoidable.

Season 2 is clearly pushing her toward internal transformation, not just solving mysteries. The external threat mirrors the internal one: someone who tries to steal or manipulate her essence. To defeat the kiler, not just physically, but symbolically, she must become stronger in the one way She never could: by forming real human bonds.

That makes trust the climax of her arc. If she can’t open up, she stays powerful but emotionally hollow. If she does open up — she becomes whole.

and now, Weylers:

Trust Is the gateway to legacy. Morticia and Gomez trust each other completely. The Addams family thrives on loyalty.

Wednesday is heir to this emotional intelligence, but she's rejected it ... until now. The fact Hunter Doohan/Tyler had popped out in a sneak peek introducing the Addams family members still lives rent free in my head.

It's crazy how Hunter is voicing over the classic tango dancing of Morticia and Gomez and he is seated at the same scenario where Catherine and Luiz were being interviewed! Did Tyler and Wednesday's dance end for real?

Will they dance or die? LOL

At least it means Tyler is truly connected with Wednesday and her family? HOW??? August, please!!!!!! We need you now!

HEAR ME OUT! SHE WILL NEED TO TRUST EVERYBODY INCLUDING TYLER! TYLER IS HER ULTIMATE CHALLENGE!

Her growth into her role as someone with power and insight requires her to learn what her parents already know: power without connection leads to destruction. Trust isn't just Wednesday's test: it's her transformation.

By learning to trust, she risks the one thing she's always protected: her independence. But by doing so, she may finally evolve from a brilliant, lonely observer of the world... into someone who belongs in it.

Ok, I won't promise the part 3 for today, because I'm stil writing it BUT it will come. Don't worry.

What do u guys think? Let me know your thoughts.

#weyler #wyler #tyler galpin #wednesday x tyler #tyler x wednesday #wednesday addams #wednesday netflix #wednesday season 2 #tyler and wednesday #tyler wednesday

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echantedtoon · 1 year ago

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Ocean Deep Ch2 Spectacles And Scales

((Warnings for mistreatment of the mers by the sideshow owner and some of the other people, Buying and selling of mers, mistreatment of animals briefly shown, etc.

typed in random anime man into Google and this is the first photo that popped up so I'm using this as reference to what Akira looks like.

https://images.app.goo.gl/Kxk9rU7mkMZRiRXbA)

It was a beautiful day today.

That's usually what the default positive thing you thought was whenever something went wrong or you were feeling bad. You'd look outside and even if it was raining, you'd still find something outside to think about. The clouds looked like funny bunnies today. The next the sky would be a beautiful blue. Those flowers look wonderful. The snow looked sparkly in the sunlight.

Anything to stay positive in the crazy world ruled by creatures unseen and more powerful than the average human. You've never seen one personally thank the gods, but you knew something must've been going on with all of the disappearances that's happened for hundreds of years. Whether it's some humans, natural accidents, runaways, or something else you didn't know but you weren't going to be one of the ones that ended up disappearing. You had a plan for your life.

You wanted to work on yourself and maybe find someone to settle down with, and then maybe have a few children later down the line when your career was solid and you knew you'd be secure enough. Maybe even adopt a few animals! You've always wanted a small pony! Maybe a big dog you could roughhouse and snuggle with. That'd be nice. Just you and a domestic life. But for now you were just content with just working at the local florist shop and putting your life together.

It wasn't bad. You got to help with lots of pretty flowers all year round, there was always the pleasant smell of flowers in the air, it earnt you a decent living, it wasn't too far from your house, and your boss was a very kind old lady who's been doing this for years. You were lucky to have found such a good job.

"Thank you for coming by. It's always so nice to see you again, Akira."

You briefly looked up from where you were watering a pot of begonias with an old teapot. One of the local men was in today buying a small bouquet of peonies for whatever reason he wanted them. Being a decently big town, you kinda knew him but with the town still being big you also didn't. You knew this man, Akira, was the son of one of the fishermen families while his mother's family were glass blowers. You only knew that because your boss mentioned that Akira's mother's family were the ones that made the giant glass greenhouse connected to her house, she used it to grow all her flowers year round. But outside of that and just seeing him around every so often, you didn't personally know Akira. But he also had a reputation for being handsome.

He certainly has the looks to back that up. Greyish-white soft hair. Silver eyes. A tall muscular physic. And a handsome face that looked like it was sculpted by an excellent artist. You only gave a brief look over your shoulder as the two spoke.. before going back to work. It'd be rude to stare while they spoke and you had a job to do which was to finish watering these plants.

"You too, Mrs. Satoshi. And may I say you don't look a day over forty."

A strong of chuckles that had you rolling your eyes and inwardly groaning. "Oh, stop. You always say the sweetest things to people."

"I can't help it if I wear my heart on my sleeve.~ But while I'm here, I might as well give you this." You heard a distant sound of rustling paper and a moment later Akira spoke again. "Here! I've been handing these out for everyone to see."

There was a pause of silence before your boss hummed again. "Your uncle finally gotten that display up has he?"

"Absolutely! He calls it an 'ocean viewing through glass' and he's planning on showing it off at the end of this month!"

"Having a small tank of pet fish is one thing, but who's ever heard of people keeping giant tanks full of fish just for people to gawk at? Anyone can just go down to the beach and see most of the critters in the water."

Akira gave a deep chuckle in return. "Oh it's going to be be so much more than 'just fish's, Mrs. Satoshi. The opening night is free to everyone who shows up, and there's going to be plenty to see."

"I'll certainly think about it. Tell your family I said hi."

"I certainly will." Footsteps carried away the man from the counter before they slowly came to a stop right behind you. The sudden feeling on eyes on your back had you pausing before turning over your shoulder and finding Akira staring at you with a half lidded smiling face. "I can't forget about your lovely assistant now!"

You blinked and a second later a hand held up a piece of paper to you. F/c eyes glanced at the parchment and noticed that he must've pulled it out of the bag slung over his right shoulder since a few more corners of paper were sticking out and the top opening. The paper made some crinkle sounds when he waggled it at you pulling your attention back to it, and slowly you reached out to take it from him. Your eyes gazed over it and it became pretty apparent that it was a flyer advertising the opening of a new business. Hand written too, detailing the opening date and time and other things.

"Oh...Thank you," you remained polite.

He smiled maybe a bit too widely but only turned to start walking away with the flowers in his hands. "I hope to see you there."

You watched as he left through the front door and slowly looked back to the flier in your hands.. before just putting it away and carrying on with your business. The roses were in need of the water and the flowers weren't going to water themselves.

"You know I think he likes you."

"...What?" Your head turned to the smiling older lady.

"He passed by here practically every day and he always gives a look at you through the window," she teased, "He's a rather handsome young man, and his family has such a profitable business."

You grimaced. "That's just really creepy. If he likes me then he can be a man and talk to me about it, and I don't even know him. We're strangers. Besides-" You turned back to the flowers pouring more water from the large teapot in your hands. "-he's not my type."

You just wasn't feeling like getting close to Akira. He gave you a bad feeling, and genuinely he really was not you type. He looked really handsome but it was more than good looks that counts. What about personality and character? Nah. The other girls could have him for all you cared. The older woman only hummed in thought before shrugging.

"If you say so, Dear. Just remember you're only young once. It wouldn't hurt to find someone nice to settle down with before it's too late."

"I also have my whole life ahead of me so I have plenty of time to settle down and find someone if I even wanted to. I don't want to rush into anything that I'll just regret later."

You didn't want to end up like so many unhappy couples you've seen over the years. Fighting and yelling and having affairs- No. You didn't want that. You were going to take your time and if someone comes along then it'll happen. If not- Well you can always get that pony or dog you've always wanted to keep you company. You didn't need to be married or have children to have a good fulfilling life.

Besides you were perfectly content right now with how things were. You didn't need anything changing or any surprises. Everything was just fine how they were. Not a single thing needs to be added.

"Are you going to his uncle's grand opening? I think it would be quite interesting to see what all of the excitements about."

"I don't think so. It's just going to be a bunch of fish in giant tanks. If you ask me, that's too much work to maintain. Not to mention that the amount of cleaning the tanks and constantly hauling new water to replace the old sea water-..." You shook your head. "No. Not worth it if you ask me."

She hummed turning to grab a pair of tweezers and cut away the dead leaves off a miniature rose bush. "Well you never know. It might be fun to just go and look. It is going to be free after all. "

"Maybe."

You both left the conversation at that and didn't bring it up again. There was no point. You didn't want to go and really you shouldn't to not give Akira any more encouragement for his creepy behavior. It made a shudder run through your spine and you cringe in disgust. You'd definitely be avoiding him from now on. You'd just ignore him and everything would be fine again.

With a sigh of relief, you just went on about your day and ignored the feeling in the back of your mind. It was nothing.

You hadn't heard anything else for the next three days, and it was just business as usual around here. You were having a peaceful time with your work and had all but forgotten about the encounter with Akira or his uncle's 'grand opening' except for the occasional old flier on the ground or the occasional topic of it being brought up in conversation, but it wasn't very often and you'd forget about it quickly after anyways. But there was one strange thing that happened to at the end of the week. It was really a spectacle. Really it was. Not really a thing you'd usually see around these parts. You hadn't even noticed it really, with your back towards the roads. You were too busy helping your elderly boss pick up big plant pots outside that her frail body was too weak to lift. You'd be needing these for an upcoming big delivery for (ironically) Akira's Aunt Linna as you were informed by your boss. Apparently she was planning on adding a whole lot of giant rose bushes around her home and these heavy pots were gonna be used to transport the bushes over once they were ready in one of two weeks. Unfortunately your work was interrupted by your boss when the kind lady looked over her shoulder and gasped catching your attention.

"My oh my." She looked surprised with a hand to her chin.

You followed her gaze and paused surprised as well as a few other people on the streets around you. Coming from up the road was two giant stallions being pulled along by a strong looking middle aged man. He was cursing at the animals straining to pull along their cargo and angrily whipping the reigns with each curse.

"That's sick!" The words escaped you before you could even think.

A nasiating disgusted feeling churned about in your stomach as you watched as the poor animals strained and slowly came up the road and past you both. The sounds those poor ponies were making made you want to grab a whip and swing it at the gruff looking man as they slowly walked by you. The cargo they were straining to pull was...Well you couldn't tell what it was. It was BIG. At least six feet high, ten feet long, very rectangular, and covered by old wet tarps tied together by ropes. Your eyes widened looking up at the thing as it slowly pulled past you with the man yelling at the struggling ponies, briefly a shadow fell over you both and you froze solid as it continued to be pulled by you both.

"It ..seems like they had come up from the beach. That's probably one of the tanks Akira's uncle wanted for his opening," your boss eventually broke the silence and pointed out the size of the presumed tank.

You didn't say anything about it for you were frozen in shock. For your eyes could have SWORN they saw the brief sight of a hand and half a face peeking out at you from a gap in the tarps..The light. You told yourself. It was just the light playing tricks on you. There's no way a human was under that tarp. You were seeing things. You shouldn't involve yourself in this. Forget it. Don't get involved in this. It wasn't worth it. Nothing good would ever come out of sticking your nose into other people's business anyways. You turned away from the sight of the cart disappearing and the distant cries of the man's cussing to place another heavy pot down off to the side, the last thing you needed was unnecessary drama in your life.

Besides it's not like whatever Akira's family was doing would affect you.

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mcginnlawfirm · 6 months ago

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What type of damages can I expect to recover?

Every cloud has a silver lining, but when you're an accident victim, that lining may be the damages you're entitled to in a personal injury lawsuit. Understanding your legal rights after an injury isn't just about justice; ensuring your recovery is financially secure is crucial. Shaped by legal precedents and statutes, the landscape of personal injury law is complex and frequently misunderstood.

A labyrinthine array of damages awaits those who navigate the personal injury claims process, from compensatory to punitive, and understanding them is crucial to your lawsuit's success. Whether it's the medical bills piling up today or the nebulous calculation of pain and suffering, each category plays a pivotal role in rectifying the harm suffered. With various damage types ranging from concrete to abstract, grasping their nature is the first step toward full recompense.

In the following article, we dissect the assorted damages potentially recoverable in a personal injury lawsuit, shed light on their nuances, and offer insights into the multifaceted interplay with insurance companies. Prepare to dive deep into the distinctions between compensatory and punitive damages, unravel the threads of economic loss, and empathize with the less tangible yet equally significant, non-economic impacts of personal trauma.

At McGinn Law Firm, we've helped countless clients navigate the complexities of personal injury law and secure the compensation they deserve. Let us guide you through the maze of damages and help you understand your options.

Contact Shawn McCann today for a free initial consultation at 712-328-1566. Let's work together to build a strong case and secure the compensation you deserve.

Types of Damages in a Personal Injury Lawsuit

In a personal injury lawsuit, damages refer to the monetary compensation sought by the injured party (plaintiff) for losses due to another's (defendant's) negligence or intentional conduct. These damages are intended to restore the injured person to the position they would have been in had the injury not occurred. They can generally be divided into two main categories: compensatory and punitive damages, each designed to address different aspects of the harm caused.

Compensatory Damages

Compensatory damages are the most common form of financial restitution in personal injury cases. This monetary compensation is intended to cover the injured party's tangible and intangible losses. Compensatory damages can be further subdivided into economic and non-economic damages.

Economic damages, also known as special damages, are designed to cover quantifiable financial losses directly attributable to the injury. These typically include:

Medical expenses include the costs of medical treatment, hospital stays, medications, physical therapy, and any future medical care related to the injury.

Lost wages: compensation for the income the injured party lost due to time taken off work for recovery.

Future earnings: projected losses in income if the injury leads to long-term or permanent disabilities that affect the ability to work.

Property damages: costs to repair or replace personal property damaged due to the accident.

Out-of-pocket expenses are any other monetary losses, such as travel expenses to medical appointments.

Non-economic damages, often called general damages, aim to compensate for an injury's subjective, non-monetary costs. These are equally important and not as easy to quantify as economic damages. Examples include:

Physical pain and suffering: the discomfort and distress caused by the injury.

Emotional distress: compensation for psychological impact such as anxiety, depression, and trauma.

Loss of enjoyment of life: for the decrease in the quality of life due to the injury.

Loss of consortium: awarded to the spouse or family of the injured party for the loss of companionship and the impact on the relationship.

Punitive Damages

Unlike compensatory damages, punitive damages are not designed to cover the injured party's losses but are intended to punish the defendant and deter similar conduct in the future. These damages are only awarded in cases where the defendant's behavior was particularly harmful, showing willful disregard for the safety of others, malice, fraud, or gross negligence. Punitive damages go beyond the actual harm caused and are determined by the severity of the wrongdoing rather than the extent of the injury. It's important to know that punitive damages are not available in all cases and are typically subject to statutory limits depending upon the jurisdiction.

When considering a personal injury claim, consulting with an experienced lawyer can help clarify which damages might be relevant to your case and assist in accurately calculating the full extent of compensation required for your recovery.

Medical Damages in a Personal Injury Lawsuit

Medical damages represent a significant portion of recovery in personal injury lawsuits. These expenses arise from the need for medical care following an accident or injury caused by another party’s negligence. Covering the full spectrum from immediate treatment to ongoing care, medical damages are quantifiable costs essential for ensuring that an injured party receives adequate compensation to address their physical health.

Medical Bills and Expenses

After sustaining an injury, the accumulation of medical bills can be immediate and overwhelming. Compensation for medical bills covers all forms of necessary treatment:

Emergency room visits

Hospital stays and surgeries

Diagnostic tests (X-rays, MRIs, etc.)

Physician and specialist appointments

Medical equipment and prescription medications

Healthcare providers typically document these expenses thoroughly, which helps personal injury lawyers accurately calculate and substantiate these financial claims.

Future Medical Expenses

Some injuries require long-term or even lifelong medical attention. Future medical expenses account for the projected cost of continuous medical care, including:

Follow-up surgeries or procedures

Long-term medication

Future doctor visits

Necessary medical equipment adjustments (like prosthetic updates)

A detailed prognosis from medical professionals can help predict these costs, ensuring the injured party is compensated for current and potential future medical needs.

Lost Wages and Loss of Earning Capacity

Injuries can impede an individual’s capacity to work temporarily or permanently. This section of damages compensates for:

Current lost wages due to missed work

Potential future lost wages

Loss of earning capacity if the injury prevents the injured party from returning to their former employment or from obtaining gainful employment at all

Calculations for lost wages consider previous earnings, and estimations for loss of earning capacity may involve economic and occupational experts.

Rehabilitation and Physical Therapy Costs

In addition to immediate medical treatment, recovery often necessitates rehabilitation and physical therapy. These costs include:

Physical therapy sessions

Occupational therapy

Counseling or psychological services for emotional adjustment

Any specialized rehabilitation programs

Given the recurring nature of these services, the cost can contribute substantially to the overall financial burden of recovery.

Cost of In-Home Care or Assisted Living

Severe injuries may result in the injured party needing assistance with daily activities for a limited time or indefinitely. Compensation may cover:

In-home nursing or caretaker services

Assisted living facilities

Modifications to home or vehicle for accessibility

Understanding the injured party’s need for in-home or long-term care services is crucial for accurate compensation and can be ascertained with the help of medical experts and life care planners.

By clearly itemizing and anticipating the various financial impacts of an injury, personal injury lawyers can comprehensively argue for their client's needs, engaging with insurance companies or through litigation to secure just recompense for the full extent of medical damages.

Non-Economic Damages in a Personal Injury Lawsuit

Alongside economic damages, non-economic damages are critical in personal injury lawsuits. Though intangible and more difficult to quantify, these damages are essential for compensating accident victims for their suffering and loss's subjective, non-monetary aspects. Non-economic damages include physical pain and discomfort, emotional distress, reduced quality of life, loss of enjoyment of activities, and loss of consortium. Because they aim to compensate for non-financial impacts, the valuation of these damages often requires the insights of a personal injury lawyer. It may involve expert testimonies about the injured party's quality of life and well-being.

Pain and Suffering

Pain and suffering refer to the physical discomfort and emotional anguish an injured party endures due to their injuries. This can encompass the immediate physical pain from the injury and any ongoing discomfort experienced during recovery or due to permanent disabilities. The calculation often considers the severity of the pain, its duration, and its potential chronic nature. Because pain is highly subjective, personal injury lawyers commonly use various methods to argue for a fair estimation of these damages so that their clients receive the monetary compensation they deserve.

Loss of Enjoyment of Life

Loss of enjoyment of life occurs when the injured party's injuries prevent them from engaging in hobbies, sports, and other recreational activities they once found pleasurable. This aspect of non-economic damages recognizes that life’s value is not merely in being alive but also in the ability to enjoy living. Whether it's due to temporary immobility or long-term restrictions, such a loss profoundly impacts an individual's happiness and overall contentment.

Emotional Distress

Emotional distress includes psychological effects an injury can have on a person, such as anxiety, depression, fear, and insomnia. Unlike physical pain that is easily documented with medical records, emotional distress might require the testimony of mental health professionals. Courts will often consider how these emotional ailments have affected the individual's day-to-day life and relationships.

Loss of Consortium

Loss of consortium is claimed by the spouse or close family member of an injured party and addresses the loss of companionship, affection, and partnership resulting from the injury. It recognizes that the effects of an injury extend beyond the individual to their loved ones. This damage type can include the loss of support, both emotional and physical, and the strain on marital and familial relationships.

Loss of Quality of Life

When injuries lead to long-term disabilities or permanent impairment, the loss of quality of life becomes a significant component of non-economic damages. This includes the individual’s inability to perform daily activities and tasks they had once completed without challenge. Factors such as the individual's independence, the need for assistive devices, or modifications to home and transportation can all underscore a reduction in quality of life that warrants compensatory damages.

A personal injury lawyer aspires to ensure that monetary compensation reflects the tangible and intangible aspects of the aggrieved party's suffering by addressing these non-economic damage types. This holistic approach to restitution underscores a commitment to the full spectrum of justice for accident victims.

Special Damages in a Personal Injury Lawsuit

Special Damages, also known as economic damages, are quantifiable and typically cover losses with a specific monetary value. They are out-of-pocket costs incurred directly from the injury or accident. Special damages differ from non-economic damages in that they can be documented and calculated through bills, receipts, and financial statements. They include medical expenses, property damages, lost wages, and other measurable financial losses. A personal injury lawyer will gather evidence such as invoices, pay stubs, and repair estimates to establish the injured party's economic losses and argue for compensation.

Property Damages

Property damages in a personal injury claim stem from physical damage to the claimant's possessions, such as a vehicle, home, or personal effects. The aim is to provide the injured party with monetary damages equivalent to the cost of repair or replacement. Property damage calculations are generally straightforward, relying on appraisals, repair bills, and current market value assessments. When determining compensation, an insurance company or court will look at the property's condition before the accident compared to after, factoring in depreciation for items that cannot be completely restored.

Out-of-Pocket Expenses

Out-of-pocket expenses are costs paid directly by the injured party due to the incident. These can include medical bills not covered by insurance, prescription drug costs, travel expenses for medical appointments, and purchases of medical equipment or modifications needed for recovery or disability accommodation. Documenting these outlays is crucial, and accident victims should retain all relevant receipts and records to ensure they are reimbursed for every expense.

Loss of Services

Loss of services refers to the inability to perform household or other services because of injuries. If an injured party cannot manage tasks such as childcare, home maintenance, or other domestic services they usually would handle, they may claim compensation for the cost of hiring others to perform these services. In these instances, estimates and invoices from service providers are used to document the value of these lost services.

Loss of Future Earnings

When injuries are severe enough to temporarily or permanently impair an individual’s ability to work, loss of future earnings can be claimed. This monetary compensation addresses wages, salary, commissions, or bonuses the injured party would have reasonably earned had the injury not occurred. Calculating these damages may require economic expertise to project earnings over time, considering factors like inflation, career progression, and the individual's work-life expectancy.

Loss of Business Opportunities

Loss of business opportunities damage is relevant for business owners or individuals poised to advance their careers or businesses. When an accident or injury causes a foreseeable business deal or growth opportunity to fall through, the injured party may be entitled to compensation for these unrealized profits. Proof of such losses can be complex, often necessitating financial records, contracts, and expert testimony to substantiate the claim.

Ensuring total compensation for personal injury damages, including all relevant types of special damages, necessitates a comprehensive understanding of current and potential future losses. Whether through negotiation with an insurance company or litigation, the assistance of a dedicated personal injury lawyer can be invaluable in articulating and proving the extent of these damages.

Determining Damages in a Personal Injury Lawsuit

Determining the appropriate level of damages in a personal injury lawsuit is crucial. This determination involves calculating economic and non-economic losses suffered by the injured party. Economic losses are the measurable financial aspects of harm, often called special damages, that include medical bills, property damage, and lost wages. Non-economic losses, or general damages, encapsulate the more abstract components such as pain and suffering, emotional distress, and loss of enjoyment of life. A personal injury lawyer may collaborate with medical professionals, economic experts, and actuaries to ensure a comprehensive damages tally. These professionals can help predict the future impacts of an injury, providing a more robust projection of both immediate and long-term needs for monetary compensation.

Documenting Medical Treatment and Expenses

Medical documentation is the cornerstone of substantiating a claim for personal injury damages. All medical expenses, from emergency room visits and surgeries to physical therapy and rehabilitation costs, must be meticulously recorded and presented. To fully capture these medical expenses, injured parties should compile:

Detailed invoices from healthcare providers

Receipts for both over-the-counter and prescription medications

Costs associated with medical devices and assistive equipment

Proof of payment for related travel expenses

Insurance company reports and expert testimony might also supplement these records, anchoring the claim to solid evidence and establishing a basis for requesting reimbursement or awarding damages.

Gathering Evidence for Pain and Suffering

Evidence for non-economic damages like pain and suffering is more subjective but equally important. To document the depth of these experiences, several types of evidence are gathered, including:

Personal journals documenting daily pain levels and emotional well-being

Testimony from family, friends, and employers detailing observed impacts

Psychological evaluations that can confirm emotional and mental distress

This evidence supports the assertion that the injury has negatively affected the injured party's quality of life, justifying compensation for pain and suffering.

Consulting with Experts to Determine Long-Term Impact

Determining the long-term implications of an injury often requires expert input. Medical experts can offer opinions about the necessity and duration of future medical care, while economic experts project losses like:

Future earning capacity

Career progression

Additional education or training needs due to injury

These projections can help calculate fair compensation for the injured party, encompassing potential future scenarios resulting from the injury.

Assessing the Impact on Daily Life and Relationships

Finally, assessing the injury's impact on daily life and personal relationships is vital. This evaluation can include the effects of:

Loss of consortium (impact on the relationship with a spouse)

Reduced ability to engage in social activities or hobbies

Increased dependency on others for basic needs

A structured settlement or lump-sum award may factor in these qualitative aspects of personal injury damages, recognizing that monetary compensation can only partially redress such profound personal losses.

In managing a personal injury claim, a victim's advocate—the personal injury lawyer—will shape the narrative that encapsulates all damages, working to secure an equitable resolution that reflects the full spectrum of the injured party's experiences.

The Role of Insurance in a Personal Injury Lawsuit

An essential player in a personal injury lawsuit is the insurance company. Often, these companies are responsible for compensating for damages to the injured party. When negotiating with insurers, an experienced personal injury lawyer becomes crucial. The lawyer's expertise helps in navigating the complex process, which often involves:

Initial Claim: The process starts when the injured party or their representative formally notifies the insurance company of the claim.

Communication: Regular and meticulous communication with the adjusters is essential to advocate for fair compensation.

Documentation Submission: The injured party must provide all necessary documentation of their damages, including medical bills and evidence of loss of income.

Settlement Negotiation: Based on the evidence presented, the lawyer will negotiate with the insurance company to reach an agreement that covers their client's damages.

In these negotiations, insurance adjusters may attempt to minimize the amount paid out by disputing the extent of injuries or the necessity of specific medical treatments. A lawyer counters these tactics with evidence and expert testimony, aiming for the best possible outcome for their client.

Understanding Insurance Coverage Limits

Insurance coverage limits play a critical role in personal injury lawsuits. The maximum amount the insurance company must pay under a policy is these limits. It's essential to understand how these limits can affect the compensation the injured party receives. The main points to be aware of include:

Policy Limit: Each policy has a stated maximum for payouts, which can limit the monetary compensation available.

Multiple Policies: In some cases, more than one policy may be applicable (such as the defendant's personal liability insurance and business insurance if the injury occurred at their workplace).

Underinsured/Uninsured Coverage: The injured party's coverage may kick in if the at-fault party's limits are too low or lacks insurance altogether.

An adept personal injury lawyer will thoroughly review all applicable insurance policies to identify all possible sources of compensation and understand the limits of each, ensuring their client receives the maximum available within the insurance coverage framework. Where insurance cannot cover the damages, the lawyer may seek the balance through a lawsuit against the at-fault party directly.

Insurance Aspect

Description

Policy Limit

The maximum payout allowed under an insurance policy.

Multiple Policies

Additional policies may provide further coverage.

Deductibles

The amount the policyholder must pay before insurance coverage kicks in.

Coverage Exclusions

Specific conditions or incidents that are not covered by the insurance policy.

Subrogation Rights

The right of the insurance company to pursue recovery from the at-fault party.

Navigating the intricacies of insurance in a personal injury lawsuit can be complex, but understanding the role of insurance and the coverage limits is essential for the injured party to recover the most comprehensive compensation possible for their losses.

#personal injury #law #personal injury attorney

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numinously-yours · 1 year ago

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Pick a Painting: Your Higher Purpose

Choose a painting above and read about your higher purpose in this life down below <3 If you feel inclined, reblog and tag which group you chose. If it resonates and you're interested in tipping, I have $1 and $5 tip options on my Etsy :) My Etsy Shop Here

Group 1

What is your higher purpose? The Sun reversed

You are here to be a silver lining of the dark clouds. Your spirit and energy bring optimism into spaces where things feel hopeless. You are here to remind people that, no matter how bad it seems, there is always something to look forward to and find beauty in. This comes from the things you actively do for people as well as the way you live your life. People cannot help but feel a little lighter with you in the room.

What can you start doing to get there? Six of Swords rev., Four of Cups, Queen of Pentacles rev.

You may be having your own internal conflicts at the moment. Maybe you feel stuck in a rut and are having a difficult time finding the light at the end of the tunnel even for yourself. How on Earth are you expected to do that for others? First, your mere existence is the light. You are not required to DO things for others if you don’t have the capacity. What you do have/should find the capacity for is finding the good in the every day. You may be going through some transitions in your life that has made this harder than usual. The chaos may feel overwhelming, but if you approach it with a different mindset and meditate on your worries, you’ll start feeling less heavy. The more you actively do this for YOURSELF, the more that positive energy is going to radiate from you.

Anything you should stop doing? Ace of Wands, Seven of Pentacles

Stop giving up on yourself! I think there are times where you start a project, or think about starting one, and you make a little progress, but then you stop. Maybe the progress isn’t happening as quickly as you want, so you don’t think it’s going to be successful at all. But that’s right when you need to keep going. The finish line is right over the hill. As you start projects, remember that things take time and THAT’S OKAY! Powering through these times is what brings long term results.

Other advice? The Fool, The Empress rev.

Keep an open mind and make self-care a priority. I think this really reiterates the things you can start doing. Find the good in your OWN life. As the saying goes, You cannot pour from an empty cup. It’s okay to prioritize yourself! Do some fun & creative things – even if you think you suck at them. Doodle, paint, sing karaoke in your living room, anything to bring a little inner child joy to your life. Don’t be afraid to be a little spontaneous, either. Some of the best experiences come from our spur of the moment experiences 😊

What is your higher purpose? Nine of Pentacles rev., The High Priestess

The higher purpose in your life is to become more in-tuned with yourself & the way of the world. Particularly, in the spiritual realm. How can you and the world create a give and take relationship? What will the world show you about yourself? How will you help the world? This lifetime is all about finding those answers.

What can you start doing to get there? Six of Cups, Death

I definitely think some of the people who pick this pile have had previous lifetimes. I was already thinking this with the high priestess but now with these two cards we have: reminiscing (6 of cups) and transformation (death). Even if you don’t remember your past lives, you will bring in some of your skills from those lives to start helping you find your answers. You’re going to feel some strong gut instincts when you are thinking about new paths to go down – trust those!

As a whole, though, whether you have past lives, are brand new, or have no idea: Start each new day with a blank canvas. Live in the NOW. Remember the things that once brought you joy and implement them into your life again. If you have kids in your life (your own children, nieces/nephews, students, etc), try to see life through their eyes when you’re around them. They will teach you how to just BE, to let go of the bullshit, and embrace the innocence you have subconsciously forgotten.

Anything you should stop doing? Strength rev.

Stop doubting yourself! You may have been on a journey to find your purpose for your whole life and you are never quite sure if you found it. There always seems to be something “missing”, but I truly think that’s just what life is like. It’s the opportunity for constant learning. It is your push to stay present and understand the now. When you don’t feel “productive” it doesn’t mean you’re lazy or failing. In times of doubt, remember the amazing things about yourself. Be kind to your mind.

Other advice? Ace of Pentacles

This is my favorite card in tarot <3 This is my “everything is, or will be, exactly how it’s supposed to be” card. If there is something specific that you are trying to manifest, the universe is telling you that you can do it. If you’ve been waiting for a sign to get started, this card is that sign! And regardless, the Ace wants you remind you to be consciously aware of your blessings and KNOW that you deserve every single one of them.

What is your higher purpose? The Magician

You are the one who shows people that anything is possible. You always seem to find a way to make something out of nothing. Manifestation is your middle name and people wish it was theirs. You tend to know your “why” whenever you go into any situation. “Why am I here? To make people happy, to get things done, to have fun?” You act according to this “why” and it seems seamless to those around you. You inspire them to take action in their own life.

What can you start doing to get there? Strength, Three of Wands

I think you might be doing everything you need to do – so this message is to keep it up! Continue to have patience and be calm in the storm. Continue to be determined to make your dreams come true. Continue overcoming fears and challenges. Every single step you take brings you a level of progress you didn’t have before. The only advice would just be to explore options you haven’t tried before. Otherwise, it sounds like what you HAVE tried is working really well 😊

Anything you should stop doing? Ten of Wands

Stop carrying the weight of others on your shoulders! I think you care about people a lot and you want to help them reach their full potential. This can be exhausting. Being exhausted from that doesn’t make you a bad person, it just makes you human. You can still be there for people in other ways, but you won’t be able to help them if you deplete yourself of all your energy.

Other advice? Judgement, The Fool

I’m not sure if this is correlated to this reading specifically, but the universe has a message about starting over. There may be something coming to end or you are considering ending a cycle. The universe wants you to know that this is going to open up soo many new opportunities. Allow the changes to happen, even if they make you nervous. A spiritual awakening may be on its way, too, which sparks this new beginning. You may realize something new and it brings a newfound energy to your life. Don’t over think think, let it happen.

What is your higher purpose? The Hanged Man, The Sun

Your higher purpose in this life is to be peaceful and happy <3 A lot of the time when we think about our purpose, we want to know what we can do for others while we’re here on earth. How can we make the world a better place? Your embracing of the warmth and different perspectives will do this, even if it seems like it’s only for you. Similarly to the other piles, others will observe your happiness and your ability to let go of the small things and feel inspired to do the same. Just by existing, you will bring light to the lives of those around you. If you have had past lives, they may have been difficult. This is your chance to enjoy all that life really has to offer you.

What can you start doing to get there? Ten of Wands rev., Seven of Pentacles

Look at the things that don’t add value to your life. Are there things in your life that disturb the peace you’re trying to create? Are there investments you want to make but something else is in the way? Explore that and determine if you really need it or if you can replace it with the thing you want to be investing in instead. It’s always okay to take a step back and make adjustments where needed. It doesn’t mean you don’t appreciate what you have, it just may not work for you anymore.

Anything you should stop doing? Judgement

Stop ignoring your intuition and stop resisting “moving on”. You’re ready for the next step in your life, whatever that may be! You probably are feeling comfortable, and the unknown is always scary, even for the most positive people. Let yourself step into new opportunities. What is great is that every step you’ve taken up to this point has given you the tools you need to keep stepping. You know the things you need to feel safe and secure, and those aren’t leaving. What they are doing is reminding you what is important and giving you something to keep your eyes open for.

Other advice? Page of Swords, Queen of Cups

The very first phrase I thought of when looking at these two cards were “Nurture your curiosity.” The Page is full of energy and is ready to explore. They want to see what is out there. They want to learn new perspectives, gain knowledge, and discover new ways of self-expression. Let this part of you feel the love! Encourage the Page’s creativity. Trust your institution and your heart as your curiosity decides where it wants to take you. When the Page’s plans don’t go as intended, be gentle with yourself, too. It is all about learning, and even the set backs teach us something.

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thepastisalreadywritten · 1 year ago

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Princess Charlotte and Prince Louis have two "perfect" role models in the shape of two unlikely royals - who are themselves "spares to the spare."

The young royals, who could be considered the "spares" to future King, Prince George, the first born child of Prince Wiliam and Catherine, Princess of Wales, should look to Prince Edward, the new Duke of Edinburgh, and his wife Sophie, Duchess of Edinburgh, for how to go about their life as working royals.

Edward and Sophie have been hailed as the perfect role models for Charlotte and Louis due to their successful roles within the Royal Family.

The couple recently carried out a historic ceremony on behalf of King Charles III, marking 120 years of friendly relations between Britain and France.

Their rise to prominence has been a long time coming, according to former BBC Royal correspondent Jennie Bond.

Jennie told OK!: "They thoroughly deserve the recognition they are now getting."

She added that despite their work often being overshadowed by other royals, they have remained devoted to their causes.

As they take on more prominent roles, they are proving themselves up to the task and serving as excellent examples to their great nephews and niece.

xxx

It is a position which has notoriously come with question marks attached as the Royal struggles to carve out a life for themselves in the shadow of the crown.

Jennie added:

"They [Edward and Sophie] have always been quietly devoted to their various causes, but their work has been overshadowed by other royals.

I suppose every cloud has a silver lining... and as the King calls on them to take a more prominent role, Edward and Sophie are showing they are very much up to the task.

"They are also serving as excellent role models to their great nephews and niece - showing that you can be a 'spare' or even a 'spare to the spare' and make a real success of working as a valued member of the Royal Family."

But among the many benefits of the Prince and Princess of Wales ' preference for gentle parenting directed by what Catherine has learned from her studies of early years education, it is clear that the couple will be striving to normalise their younger children's lives with the hope that they never feel like working as royals is their only option.

"William and Catherine must be acutely aware of the problems for a royal spare," Jennie explains.

"They have already shown that they have a different and modern attitude to bringing up royal children.

I'm sure they will do everything to make Charlotte and Louis feel every bit as special, loved and valued as George.

I imagine they will encourage Louis to explore life outside the royal fold... it could be the military, but it could also be working in the charity world or whatever he finds appealing after his education is finished.

I'm sure they will encourage him to go to University, which they both enjoyed and where, of course, they found love.

"And from there they will want him to find a life that is meaningful to him as well as appropriate for the son of a future King.

They will try to ensure that he feels he is living a life of value, irrespective of his place in the line of succession.

And that will probably involve service of some kind as they have emphasised from the start that they want their children to understand that having empathy with others is not only a kindness but is rewarding as well."

Edward and Sophie have seen their popularity and recognition within the Royal Family soar over the past 13 months, since being given new titles.

The pair are increasingly front and centre at crucial events, stepping in for the King while he prioritises his health recovery.

Prince Edward is a trusted supporter of the arts sector, taking up his late father's Duke of Edinburgh Awards Scheme mantle.

Meanwhile, Sophie champions gender equality tirelessly, raising critical awareness around issues like female genital mutilation (FGM) and avoidable blindness prevention.

Away from participating in Royal duties or representational roles on behalf of the King, Edward and Sophie, along with their two children — Lady Louise Windsor and James, Earl of Wessex, 20 and 16 respectively — reside at Bagshot Park close to the Windsor Estate, whenever they're not away studying at university or school.

NOTE: Edited (xxx)

#Prince William #Prince of Wales #Princess of Wales #Catherine Princess of Wales #Catherine Middleton #Kate Middleton #Prince George #Princess Charlotte #Prince Louis #Prince Edward #Duke of Edinburgh #Duchess of Edinburgh #Sophie Duchess of Edinburgh #Sophie Rhys Jones #Lady Louise Windsor #James Earl of Wessex #King Charles III #British Royal Family

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strqyr · 2 years ago

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it's always said white clouds aren't always silver lined.

every cloud has a silver lining, meaning that every negative situation can have a positive side-effect to it. this comes from clouds—especially grey and stormy ones—having a "silver lining" when backlit by the sun; a promise of something better and brighter after the storm is gone ( it's always said white clouds aren't always silver lined, but the future's looking bleak, and the storm is set to rise. ).

but for white clouds—which do not have anything particularly negative associated with them—, the contrast isn't quite there to be able to tell clearly whether the cloud is silver lined or not. you could assume it is, but just as well it could not be.

white clouds. silver lining. white. silver.

summer rose.

our dreams came true, our path was clear, the moon safely watched from above. but every smile is not the same, and every heart is not filler with love for mankind; look around it's getting very hard to find. not every open wound is simply healed by time, but revenge is always sweet, and chaos is the prize.

show them how you smile, it's only for a while. take what you need, leave them to bleed. let them know bitter while your revenge is sweet.

if it's war that you want, then you got it ( farewell to days of peace 'cause now it's time to die ). when i kick your ass and look you in the eye, and with a smile and a cheerful heart i'll turn to you and wave goodbye.

just say goodbye. time to die. so just say goodbye. black out the sky ( the storm is set to rise ), all things must die.

bit by bit, the show is making it clear that as different as summer and raven may seem on the surface, the more similar they actually are. and if raven attended beacon for the purpose of learning how to kill huntsmen... for what reason may summer have been there, when every smile is not the same, and revenge is always sweet?

#rwby #summer rose #the warrior in the woods lost her people to other people #ilia lost her parents in a mining accident when a worker tripped handling agitated dust crystals #if summer lost her parents to the actions of other people...#who is she seeking to take revenge on?#( tock worked for salem. but she had some very bandit looking fellows with her as well )#( ......... )#( YA KNOW )

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ironwoman359 · 1 year ago

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A Thief's Gamble - Ch.9

Every Cloud...

Prev: Ch.8 Caught Red Handed || Next: Ch.10...Has a Silver Lining Fic Masterpost

Fic Summary: Brynjolf is certain that the only way the Thieves Guild will return to its glory days is by bringing in new, talented members. Unfortunately, Mercer doesn't agree, and it's not like Brynjolf's latest attempts at recruiting have gone well. But when he meets a stranger in the marketplace one morning, he's willing to take the risk and bring her on board....only time will tell if his gamble pays off.

Chapter Summary: The Guild is forced to lay low after being exposed by a failed heist, but then Brynjolf receives a cryptic message that sends him on an unexpected job.

Content: Brynjolf POV, Thieves Guild quest spoilers, game typical violence.

Ships: Brynjolf x Dragonborn OC (slowburn)

Word Count: 3,887

Check the reblogs for a link to read on AO3!

— — —

Gissur’s failure ended up having a far greater impact on the Guild than Brynjolf had expected. Any hope that the heat would die down quickly was dashed as the jarl ordered extra patrols across the entire city. Afraid to run afoul of the guard, most of the Guildmembers were forced to hunker down in the ratway and wait things out. At first the air was charged with tension and whispered conversations, but after days of nothing to do, the heavy weight of boredom began to settle over the Guild.

Brynjolf kept up appearances in the marketplace, hawking his elixir and gathering information, but even he was beginning to grow antsy. The guards who he normally worked with were avoiding him, and a quick inspection of the hidden caches around the city revealed that most hadn’t even collected their recent payments and orders. What info he was able to gather from his other sources, he couldn’t act on, and he found himself in the Ragged Flagon at the end of each day, as frustrated and bored as his Guildmates.

“Any change out there?” Delvin asked him one night as he trudged in, and Brynjolf let out a sigh, dropping into a chair across from the old thief.

“None,” he said. “You’d think they’d grow tired of this constant vigilance after two weeks, but they’ve not budged an inch.”

Delvin whistled.

“I have to admit, I’m surprised that old Laila is still at it. Surely all the extra wages are gettin’ expensive for her tastes?”

“Mjoll’s been taking advantage of the situation,” Brynjolf explained as Vekel passed by and handed him a tankard. “She’s using the incident to put pressure on the jarl, and has been riling up the citizens to do the same. Anuriel’s doing her best to counter the movement, but there’s only so much she can do without jeopardizing her position. The way things are headed now, we may have to ask Maven to get involved directly.”

“Which usually means a hefty donation to the city’s coffers, which Maven is not going to like,” Delvin mused. “And we’re barely back on her good side as it is.”

Brynjolf sighed, and ran a hand through his hair.

“At least we have a few contacts reaching out in other holds now. Did we manage to send anyone out to that silversmith in Markarth? We may have to write him a letter explaining that our services will be slightly delayed–”

“Didn’t you know?” Delvin interrupted. “Ariene took that job.”

Brynjolf blinked.

“Ariene took it?” he repeated. “When?”

Delvin winced.

“The same day Mercer sent her off to Solitude.”

“And you didn’t think to mention this to me?” Brynjolf demanded, and Delvin held up his hands.

“I’m sorry mate, I thought you knew. I saw the two of you together that night; I just assumed she’d told you.”

Brynjolf just shook his head. He’d had no idea; Ariene hadn’t shown any sign that she was leaving until Mercer had ordered her to. He stared down at the contents of his tankard, watching the foam slowly dissolve into the body of the ale.

Ariene had been gone for two weeks now, which should have been more than enough time for her to complete her task in Solitude and return home. Assuming, of course, that the weather had been good, that there was no trouble on the road, and that Gulum-Ei had cooperated fully.

Brynjolf snorted.

Vex would take Delvin up on his advances before the stars aligned so perfectly on a single job. Even Ariene hadn’t been able to completely shake the string of bad luck that followed the Guild like a shadow. She always managed to narrowly escape disaster, but her jobs so far had been far from simple.

Still, Brynjolf had secretly been hoping she’d arrive back any day now, even though it was entirely possible that she hadn’t left Solitude yet. Now it turned out that even if she had finished her task in the capital, she wouldn’t be back on the road to Riften until she’d dealt with whatever business there was in Markarth. The silversmith had been vague in his communication, so there was no telling how long she’d be delayed.

Sighing, Brynjolf downed half his tankard in one gulp, then pushed his chair back and got to his feet.

“Where’re you goin’?” Delvin asked.

“Training room,” Brynjolf grunted, rolling his shoulders. “Where else is there to go?”

The training room was blessedly empty, and Brynjolf pulled his daggers out of their sheaths. Already the thoughts he’d been pushing down all day were bubbling up to the forefront of his mind.

What if the jarl made the new guard rotations permanent? What if the Guild’s recent string of good fortune was just a fluke? What if Maven decided to withdraw her support, leaving them at the mercy of Riften’s bureaucracy?

Why didn’t Ariene tell him where she was going?

Brynjolf took a deep breath, flipping his daggers in his hands and letting all the worries swirl through his head, unhindered.

Then, he swung.

— — —

For two days, nothing changed. Guards patrolled the streets at all hours, members of the Guild stayed cooped up underground, and Brynjolf spent all day in the marketplace, selling very little elixir and gleaning very little intel.

A few people came to spar with him in the evenings, which at first he welcomed. It alleviated some of his boredom, but it also reminded him of the last time he sparred with an opponent, and he had to fight to keep a blush from his cheeks every time he thought of Ariene standing inches from him, her hand warm in his and a question as sharp as their blades hovering unanswered between them.

Thinking those types of thoughts made him lose his bouts, so he did his best to ignore them.

Then, on the third day, a courier approached him.

“You’re Brynjolf?” the man asked, walking up to Brynjolf’s stall in the market, and Brynjolf nodded. “I’ve been looking for you. Got something I’m supposed to deliver; your hands only.”

The man passed him a folded piece of paper sealed shut with wax, then nodded and turned, heading into the Bee & Barb without another word.

Brynjolf looked at the letter curiously, then cast a glance around the market. He normally didn’t like to read mail out in the open, but no one was paying him any attention, and he hadn’t had a letter come by courier in some time. His usual contacts had other methods of getting their information to him, so a courier meant something interesting. Maybe a new client, or a hot tip about a mark.

After making sure no one was watching, he broke the wax seal and unfolded the letter, eyes widening when he realized who it was from.

Brynjolf read the letter, a frown forming on his face. The message was vague, likely on purpose, but he couldn’t see what the point of sending it had been. Was it to let him know that Gulum-Ei had been dealt with and that she was on her way to Markarth? But it said she was heading home now; there was no mention of the other city. Besides, there was hardly a point to sending a message to precede her when she’d take just as long to get to Riften as the letter would.

He glanced at the date, intending to gauge how long ago she’d sent it, and his frown deepened.

First of Frostfall.

It was still the last week of Hearthfire. The first of Frostfall was four days away.

Brynjolf read the letter again, slowly, and the more he read, the less clear it became. As far as he knew, Ariene didn’t have any experience in property at all, and her reference to some kind of deal didn’t make sense, even as a euphemism for the shakedown she’d been sent to perform. Also curious was her use of Gulum-Ei’s alias, even though they both knew his real name and had no reason to hide it. And why would she date it the first of a month that hadn’t even arrived yet–

Realization struck him, and he scanned the letter again, his blood running cold as he did so. He grabbed the few bottles of elixir he had on display and shoved them beneath the counter, pausing just long enough to lock the stall before he hurried out of the market and towards the graveyard.

Bursting into the cistern, Brynjolf made a beeline for Mercer’s desk, barely stopping to apologize for startling Cynric into spilling his soup.

“I’m going to Falkreath,” he announced, and Mercer looked up from his ledgers, surprised.

“Excuse me?”

“I’m going to Falkreath,” Brynjolf repeated. “We just received a message from Ariene.”

“And why exactly does that mean you need to go to Falkreath? She’s supposed to be in Solitude.”

“She was,” Brynjolf said, passing him the letter. “But now she’s in Falkreath, and needs our help.”

Mercer scanned the letter, frowning.

“This doesn’t say anything about Falkreath, Brynjolf.”

Brynjolf took the letter again, grabbed Mercer’s quill, and circled the first word on each line before handing it back.

“Please send help,” Mercer read aloud. “Too many bandits, meet me at dead man’s drink.” He looked up at Brynjolf. “You can’t be serious.”

“I am,” Brynjolf insisted. “Dead Man’s Drink is the name of the inn in Falkreath. I don’t know what she’s doing there, but I know that she’s on a job for Endon, a silversmith in Markarth. Whatever that is must involve bandits somehow, and I told her she wouldn’t have to fight an army single handedly. If she’s asking for backup, I’m not going to ignore her.”

Mercer raised an eyebrow at him.

“Guild first, remember Brynjolf?”

“She’s part of the Guild,” Brynjolf snapped. “Besides, look at the first meaning of the letter. She got Gulum-Ei to tell her something, and if we leave her to deal with this problem by herself, who knows how long it will be before she gets back here? How many more days are you willing to wait to get the intel? Or perhaps you’d like to send another agent to Solitude? I’m sure Gulum-Ei wouldn’t mind rehashing the story for yet another Guildmember asking nosy questions.”

“You’ve made your point,” Mercer growled. “I suppose there’s not much to do here in the meantime anyway. But I want you both back as soon as possible. No detours, you understand?”

Brynojlf nodded, already turning away from the Guildmaster.

It took him less than half an hour to change into traveling gear and pack his Guild armor, extra knives, and a handful of potions and foodstuffs into an old knapsack. He made his way to the stables, and after a few minutes of haggling, secured a horse for the journey.

He decided to take the more remote southern road that led past Haemar’s Shame and into Helgen. The northern road around the mountains into Whiterun was safer, but it was already early afternoon. If he took the longer route then he wouldn’t reach Falkreath until tomorrow at the earliest, whereas if he rode his horse hard and was very lucky with the wildlife, he’d be able to take the southern pass through the mountains and reach the hold before dark.

The late afternoon sun provided little reprieve from the chill of the autumn air, but Brynjolf was used to the harshness of the land. He didn’t particularly care for any of that “Sons of Skyrim” talk that was popular among the Stormcloaks and their sympathizers, but he was still a nord, and this was still his homeland. Riding through the forests that he’d played in as a boy while the wind made golden leaves dance above his head, it was easy to ignore the cold.

If he’d been on any other job, he might have taken his time to enjoy the scenery, but Ariene’s message was burned into his brain, and he urged his horse faster, cutting through glades and across clearings in places where he was sure of his way. He made good time until the pass through the mountains, where a recent snowfall forced the horse’s pace to slow, but he thankfully had the road to himself until he reached Helgen…or rather, where Helgen had once stood.

“Shor’s bones,” he whispered, pulling his horse to a halt.

The small mountain village had been completely decimated. Most of the wall on the east side was still standing, but from his vantage point on the slope, he could see over it to the destruction beyond.

There wasn’t a single building that had escaped annihilation. Nearly every house had been leveled, leaving behind nothing but a few splintered support beams and lopsided fireplaces sticking out of piles of ash. The stone keep, once one of Skyrim’s southernmost imperial outposts, had been reduced to a few crumbling towers streaked with scorch marks and surrounded by mounds of rubble.

The worst thing though, was the smell.

Once, when Brynjolf had been young and foolish and eager to prove himself, he and another footpad had tried to rob a wizard who was known to practice his craft out of a cave north of Shor’s Stone. Heads full of visions of priceless gems and ancient artifacts, they’d tried to sneak into the cave late at night, certain the old man would be sleeping and that it would be an easy heist.

Brynjolf could still hear the lad’s screams, could still recall the thick, acrid smell of his flesh burning away as he was engulfed in a fireball.

It was that same scent, still detectable on the breeze despite the time that had passed, that revealed the true carnage of the scene before him.

Nothing but a dragon could have done this, Brynjolf realized with growing horror.

It was one thing to learn of the attacks, to hear stories of chaos and dragon fire second hand. It was quite another to see the aftermath for himself.

Even with Ariene’s word that she’d seen a dragon, even fought one in Whiterun, a part of him had still been unable to accept that the creatures of myth were really responsible for the attacks. The beasts belonged in children’s tales and legends, not in the real world. Yet here was the proof, plain as day and chilling as the wind: dragons had returned.

Brynjolf caught sight of movement along the old wall, and tried to push thoughts of legend and doom from his mind. He had more pressing matters to deal with at the moment: namely that a company of bandits seemed to be squatting in the village ruins.

He almost had to admire their ingenuity; Helgen’s destruction meant that Jarl Siddgeir would have pulled most of the guards from the area, and the remains of the walls and keep gave the bandits a stronger defense than they’d be likely to get in one of the mountain caves nearby.

Unfortunately, their greatest advantage was now Brynjolf’s biggest problem: the main roads from both the south and the east ran directly through the village, allowing them to pick off any travelers with ease. Brynjolf was a competent fighter, but with no clear idea of how many bandits were camping out behind the wall, he didn’t want to chance an all out fight if he could avoid it.

Too bad no one else is here to appreciate the irony, he thought grimly as he weighed his options.

If it were any other day, he would have camped out on the side of the road and waited until nightfall to try and pass the bandits by, but today was the one time that he couldn’t afford to be patient. He glanced up at the sun, which was dipping lower and lower in the evening sky. He’d have to think of something quickly, if he still wanted to reach Falkreath before dark.

Realistically, he only had two options.

One, dismount and leave his horse behind. If he were on foot, he was confident enough in his ability to sneak past without any of the thugs noticing him. Of course, that meant that he definitely wouldn’t reach Falkreath before the sun went down. But that left him with option two: ride around the village in a full gallop and hope that the sentries posted along the wall wouldn’t shoot him as he came by.

Brynjolf grimaced. Neither option was particularly attractive, and the longer he sat here deliberating, the later he’d be getting to Dead Man’s Drink. There had to be another way, some hidden solution that would let him keep his speed without risking an arrow in the back.

“If you have a choice between two locked doors, then start looking for a window.”

Gallus’s words, his way of teaching footpads to approach problems from unexpected angles. The ability to think outside the box was what separated everyday thieves from the truly skilled…and Brynjolf was nothing if not skilled.

He thought for a moment more, then quickly dismounted and opened his knapsack, which he’d tied to the back of the horse’s saddle. After a moment of rummaging, he pulled out a small bottle filled with a bright red liquid: a health potion.

He poured a small amount of it out into his cupped hand, then tilted his head back and dripped the potion down his face. He bent down and scooped up a handful of dirt from the path, smearing a line of it across his cheek so it mixed with the liquid into a dark red mud. He took off his cloak, rolling it up and stuffing it in his pack, then reached up and tore one of his sleeves so it hung loosely from his arm. Just for good measure, he slathered more of the dirt onto his arms and neck, adding to his disheveled appearance.

Satisfied, he mounted his horse and nudged it forward again. The ruse wouldn’t hold up under close inspection, but getting closer to the bandits was what he was hoping to avoid. Taking a deep breath, he leaned forward and squeezed his knees into the horse’s side, urging it into a gallop.

“HELP!” he shouted at the top of his lungs as he sped towards the gates. “HELP ME! IT’S COMING!”

He saw the bandits stir, saw confusion and alarm on their faces as they watched what hopefully looked like a half crazed man covered in blood barrelling towards them. A few were already drawing their weapons, and he sent a silent prayer to whatever divine cared to listen that these men had heard the same news out of Falkreath that he had.

“HELP! IT’S RIGHT BEHIND ME! WEREWOLF!” he screamed.

That word changed everything.

Other panicked shouts joined his own, and the men turned their attention to the path behind him, reading their blades and aiming their bows down the road, which was exactly what Brynjolf wanted. He urged the horse forward, not taking the time to look over his shoulder. He wanted to be long gone before the men realized that there was no creature pursuing him and that they’d let a victim slip through their fingers.

He kept the horse at a gallop for as long as it could muster, then finally let the beast begin to slow when he was certain there’d been no attempt to follow him.

Brynjolf chuckled as he wiped the remains of the potion and mud from his face. Even after all this time, there was nothing quite like the feeling of pulling off an impossible plan. It’d been awhile since he’d felt that rush, being cooped up in the cistern doing paperwork most days. The last time he’d really gotten to see a plan come together was when he and Ariene had pulled the frame job on Brand-Shei. He could still recall the look of triumph on the lass’s face when she’d risen from behind the crates and flashed him a thumbs up.

Looking back, that was the moment that he’d first felt an attraction to her. He’d tried to ignore the feeling, to insist to both himself and his Guildmates that his attention was a purely professional one, but even then he’d known that he was kidding himself. There was something special about Ariene, and she had sparked his interest from the start.

Brynjolf rode into Falkreath just as the sun began to dip beneath the horizon. There was no stable in the sleepy little city, so he tied his horse to a post outside Dead Man’s Drink. He stepped into the inn, eyes already scanning the room for Ariene, and he stopped dead in his tracks when he saw her.

She was standing in a corner, arms folded defensively as an enormous man in the heavy steel armor of an Imperial Legate bore down on her.

“–told you, you’re making a mistake,” she was saying, and the man snorted.

“And I told you that you can’t fool a true nord in his own homeland. Do you think I’m stupid, girl? I know you’re trying to get back across the border. Didn’t expect the legion to have such a strong presence up here in Skyrim did you, you filthy deserter?”

“How many times do I have to tell you?” Ariene snapped. “I’m here from Riften on business, that’s all. No one in my family has served in the legion for at least three generations. You have the wrong person.”

“If you really are innocent, then you wouldn’t mind going with a small guard up to Solitude to confirm with the General that you’re not the woman we’re looking for, now would you?”

“And miss out on who knows how many weeks of wages until you’re satisfied that I am who I say I am? I’m not a member of your legion, I’m under no obligation to follow your orders.”

“Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong,” the man said.

He leaned closer to her, and Ariene took a step backward, stopping abruptly when her back hit the wall.

“I’m in charge of the city guard here, which means that you can either go with my brigade to meet the general in Solitude, or you can wait for him to come here from the comfort of the Falkreath jail. Your choice.”

Brynjolf strode forward, grabbing the man by the shoulder and yanking him back, the first lie he could think of spilling from his lips.

“Is this kinsman bothering you, sister?”

--- --- ---

Prev: Ch.8 Caught Red Handed || Next: Ch.10...Has a Silver Lining

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sephirthoughts · 7 months ago

Text

Just Like Honey: Chapter 12

Summary:

****WARNING WARNING WARNING**** THREATENED SEXUAL ASSAULT HOMOPHOBIC SLURS DON'T WORRY THO THEY GET THEIR COMEUPPANCE WITH A QUICKNESS

NOTE: "fag" also used once, in reference to the British boys' school fagging system, in which younger students would do housework and other chores for the older students.

AU: organized crime, cabaret, sex work

SHIPS: MULTIPLE! rufus/cloud, vincent/cloud, sephiroth/cloud, reeve/cloud, rufus/cloud/tseng, cloud/other characters as clients because that's his job, weiss/nero, background aerti

RATING: teen and up

WARNINGS: violence, homophobic slurs, and references to sexual assault, sex workers, prostitution

ALSO WARNING: vincent wearing this outfit, which may be hazardous to your health/sanity

Chapter 12: Clouderella

Wutai’s upper crust tended to take a lot more joy in dressing in beautiful and extravagant clothing, than did the elite in Midgar, where the staid, black tuxedo was the standard for men’s formal wear. What would have been considered flamboyant and ostentatious, there, would not even be enough to stand out, in Wutai.

And yet, when Cloud and Vincent emerged from their limousine, at Da-chao Palace, they managed to turn just about every head in the place. There was an actual beat of hushed awe among the crowd of splendidly clad guests. Even the uniformed guards and smartly dressed servants couldn’t help stealing glances at the two beautiful gentlemen.

Vincent was rakishly elegant, like some sort of pirate king, with his long hair flowing loose about the shoulders of his gorgeous, crimson-brocade frock coat, trimmed with sable fur. His waistcoat and trousers were of the same fabric, and his shirt was black silk. In place of a cravat or tie, he wore heavy chains of antique gold, which complemented the brass toe-guards on his riding boots, the brass buckles on his thigh holster straps, and the brass epaulet he wore on one shoulder (denoting his position as head of a noble house, of the nation of Wutai).

Cloud’s outfit was similar to Vincent’s, but had been chosen to serve as its counterbalance, rather than to match it. His brocade was snowy white, his buttons and fittings were silver, rather than brass, and his frock coat was slimmer and shorter, to look best on his smaller frame (and without fur trim, which he objected to wearing in this warm climate). Rather than riding boots, he wore white, ankle-high button up boots, and a pearl-grey charmeuse cravat, instead of gold chains.

When the two walked the red carpeted receiving line together—one tall and black haired, all in blood red, and the other petite and golden-haired, in shining white—the effect was extremely striking.

The Valentine Patriarch was a prominent figure, so the whole place was immediately abuzz with curiosity, regarding the origin of the young unknown, who had managed to endear himself to the famously prickly and unapproachable man. No matter how much they asked one another, though, all anyone found out for certain was that no one else seemed to know who he was, either. Naturally, speculation ran rampant.

“I heard someone say he was sent to the Valentines as a child concubine, and they’ve been raising him in isolation, until he was old enough to accompany the patriarch,” said a young lady, behind her silk fan.

“That’s ridiculous. Who has concubines anymore,” another sniffed.

“Just look at that blonde hair and those blue eyes,” a third remarked wistfully. “I bet he’s a Shinra scion, who defected to the Valentine side, for love of the dashing and handsome Lord Valentine.”

“Ah, but isn’t Lord Valentine your fiancée, Princess Kyrie?” said a tall, lilac-clad young woman, with a hawk nose and a patrician air about her, who appeared to be the leader of this clique. “What ever is he doing escorting a young man to the ball? Shouldn’t he have come with you?”

The princess, who was standing nearby, blushed as pink as her gown and shot the lilac girl a glare.

“A lot of unmarried gentlemen attend with male friends, instead of a date, it doesn’t mean anything,” one of her own retinue retorted, in her stead.

“I heard he’s also refused to see her highness, even once, since he’s been visiting Wutai,” one of the lilac girl’s followers rejoined, with a pout of sympathy. “I do hope he hasn’t had second thoughts.”

“Lord Valentine is the head of a very important clan. There are plenty of perfectly valid reasons he might be indisposed,” another of the princess’ faction defended.

“Too true, too true,” the first young lady tittered, fluttering her fan. “If I had a lover who looked like that blonde boy, I’d certainly never leave the house.”

The lilac girl and her companions all laughed merrily at that, while the infuriated princess turned on her heel and flounced off, with her retinue in tow. Her intended had already embarrassed her, by declining to accompany her as her escort, and now he even had the gall to show up with a man. That was tantamount to deliberate public humiliation! Not that there was anything she couldn’t forgive him for, but this would require a very good explanation.

Not even the most colorful among the stories about the mysterious boy, that were invented and repeated that evening, touched anywhere close to the truth—that he was a gymnast turned cabaret-dancer prostitute, from the backwoods of Nibelheim, via the Midgar undercity slums.

His aristocratic good looks figured heavily into this, of course, but most convincing of all, was the fact that the boy was so graceful and at ease, around all these rich and powerful people. No one who hadn’t been born and raised among the gentry could be so effortlessly charming, when confronted with the rank and class of several nations.

The more those envious people watched the little upstart, hoping for him to slip up, the more they found that his manner was flawless—neither stiffly formal nor overly familiar, neither obsequious nor arrogant, and his face carried no hint of either trepidation or over-eagerness to please. If one didn’t know better, they’d think he was hosting guests in his own home, so impervious he seemed, to the relentless scrutiny.

What they did not know they were seeing, of course, was the carefully crafted stage persona of a highly skilled, veteran performer, who spent his life as a professional chameleon, shifting flawlessly into whatever role the situation required of him. Had they known the real Cloud, they would have been less baffled by his unflappable composure.

This was, after all, the young man who had fearlessly slapped President Shinra across the face, in his own office, who dared to be contrary and demanding with the Valentine Patriarch, and who was able to weather the violent and volatile temper of the psychotic, drug-addicted leader of the Remnants, unscathed.

Far from being afraid that a few rich people with fancy titles stuck to their names would judge him, Cloud was thoroughly enjoying the opportunity to trot out his rarely used urbane-dandy character (which he had developed for a client with some very specific tastes, and was based loosely on several of the more famous homosexual socialites of the prior century).

Everything about his mannerisms, turns of phrase, and costume, was tailored specifically to fit this character. He had even had a silver cigarette lighter and matching case, filled with long, black cigarettes borrowed from Vincent, to complete the impression. Thus, what Cloud performed, the people at the ball saw—which was a sophisticated young elite, in his native environment.

The formal presentation to the Wutaian monarch was far briefer and less harrowing than Cloud had expected. King Godo was a bluff and gregarious old man, who had too many people clamoring for his attention, to be overly inquisitive regarding the young beauty on the arm of his guest of honor.

Vincent had just been greeted by some important whoevers of whatever country, when Cloud heard a shriek, and turned to see a young lady hurrying over, pushing people out of her way in her haste. He was instantly spellbound by this creature, who appeared to be a mass of contradictions, from head to toe.

Her dress was a poofy, pink confection of satin and flounces and ribbons, much like a little girl might wear in a fairytale, only the bodice was extraordinarily low-cut. As she trotted over, her ample, half-exposed bosoms bounced and jolloped in such a way, that it seemed it was only the will of the heavenly Dao that prevented them escaping entirely.

She looked to be about sixteen or seventeen, and was pretty enough, but her features were somewhat spoiled by her overdone makeup (in the grand tradition of teenaged girls attempting to look older), and the gaudy jeweled tiara, that topped her stiffly curled hair, was more ridiculous than enchanting.

She shoved right past Cloud, as if he wasn’t there, and stood in front of Vincent, all bright smiles and blushing cheeks, and big, doe-eyes only for him. Cloud concealed a smirk behind his champagne glass.

“Vincent, Vincent! I had a feeling I’d see you here!” the girl enthused, as if it were a chance meeting, and not a party given specifically in his honor. “Agnes said you might not come, but I was sure she was wrong, and here you are!”

“Your highness,” Vincent replied, with an infinitesimally slight dip of his chin, smoothly withdrawing his hand, as she attempted to grasp it. “I trust her majesty the queen is well. Is she not with you?”

Cloud’s smile widened imperceptibly. If he had greeted someone the way this girl just did, and received a response like the one she’d gotten from Vincent, he’d have left the party straightaway and committed seppuku, to spare his ancestors the shame he’d brought on them.

This young lady, however, had a much thicker face than Cloud, and didn’t even appear to notice the older man’s frosty reception of her effulgent greeting. It was almost impressive, the way she let Vincent’s barely concealed disdain roll off her, like water from a duck’s back.

“Oh, you know grandma,” she said breezily. “I’m sure she’s around here somewhere, talking politics with some councilman or another. Old people are so boring, who knows they even come to these things. Parties are for fun and dancing! Speaking of dancing, have you—”

“Your highness, allow me to introduce my date,” Vincent interrupted, gesturing around the animated young woman, to Cloud. “This is Cloud Strife. Cloud, Her Royal Highness Princess Kyrie of Junon.”

“An honor, your highness,” Cloud replied, with a languid half-bow, as the princess shot him a look of mingled disgust and resentment, then turned back to Vincent, without acknowledging him.

“What’s going on, here, Vincent?” she demanded, sounding like a wronged wife. “Who is this boy?”

“His name is Cloud Strife, your highness,” Vincent repeated, while Cloud looked amused and took a sip of his champagne.

The girl’s face quickly worked through a couple expressions, then she settled on a smile, playfully tapping Vincent’s arm with her fan. “Vincent, you goose, this is the royal palace. You can’t have your footmen hanging around, in the main ballroom. There’s a banquet set up for the help in the back courtyard.”

“Cloud is my date, your highness,” Vincent said, unperturbed, reaching past her to take Cloud’s hand and pull him to his side. “It was lovely seeing you again, but I’m afraid we’ll have to catch up some other time. I was just on my way to greet the delegation from Kalm. Give her majesty my best.”

Before the princess could even think of a response, her intended husband had absconded, with the blonde boy on his arm.

She planted her hands on her hips and very nearly stamped her foot in pique, but she noticed several people glancing over, and murmuring amongst themselves. Eyes reddening and bottom lip trembling, she hurried away to rejoin her friends.

Within a minute, she had gathered her loyal supporters in the ladies’ powder room, where she sobbed pitifully while she gave them a full (and somewhat embroidered) account of how she’d suffered, at the hands of the scheming, blonde mate-sniper.

“Lord Valentine is obviously just playing around,” one of her friends soothed. “It’s not like he’s going to marry a man. The clan will never allow it.”

“True,” another agreed. “He can’t give him children, and the clan patriarch has to produce heirs. Everyone knows that.”

“Besides, you’re the crown-princess,” a third chimed in. “That boy is just some nobody. Lord Valentine will get bored and toss him away, soon enough.”

“You really think so?” the princess sniffled, as one of the girls carefully dabbed her cheeks with a handkerchief.

They all nodded enthusiastically.

“All men have their little dalliances, before they settle down. It’s nothing to worry too much about.”

“My father was notorious, before he married mother.”

“My aunt says the more they play before you marry them, the less they’ll stray afterward.”

Under their coaxing and ministrations, the princess began to feel a little better, but when she recalled the smug look on that blonde’s infuriating, freckled face, her anger surged up again, and she twisted her fan until it snapped in her hands.

“This is all that little slut’s fault,” she huffed, throwing it away. “How dare he cozy up to my fiancée! How dare he take what belongs to me! The future queen of Junon!”

“You know what we should do, is teach him a lesson,” said the girl who was fixing the princess’ hair.

The princess perked up. “Oh? What kind of lesson?”

“You remember my cousin, Gregor, right?”

“The one who was accused of excessive hazing, by all those boys, at Cheltenham Academy?”

“Yep, that’s him. He’s back from school, for winter holiday, and he and his friends are here, at the ball. All you’d have to do is cry a little, and I’m sure they’d be more than happy to help knock that hussy down a peg, for you.”

Another girl made a face. “You heard what they did, right, princess? Are you sure you want to go so far?”

“True. I don’t want them to really hurt him,” the princess said.

“Oh, they won’t, they won’t,” her friend quickly assured her. “They’ll just humiliate him, so Lord Valentine won’t want to have anything to do with him, anymore. We’ll see if he dares to be so full of himself, then.”

“Well…alright,” the princess agreed. “Let’s go find Gregor.”

After they’d walked the social gauntlet, for a while, Cloud began to lag, and get a touch pink in the cheeks. The ballroom was crowded, and despite it being early winter, the Wutai weather was quite a bit warmer and more humid than a northern lad was accustomed to. Vincent noticed his condition right away, and promptly led him out to one of the balconies, to cool off.

“What do you think of the ball, little devil? Is it not as dull and tedious as I warned?” he said, with a rueful smile.

“I’m actually having a pretty good time,” Cloud replied staunchly, as he opened the lapels of his frock coat and fanned himself with them. “It’s just a lot warmer in there, than I expected. This brocade is very good at preserving heat.”

Vincent leaned on the railing and lit a long, black cigarette, eyeing his young lover appreciatively. “You can take off the coat, you know. No one will mind.”

“What, and be seen in such an indecent state, in front of all the gentry?” Cloud gasped, feigning horror. “My reputation in society would be ruined! How would I find a noble husband, after that!”

Vincent chuckled. “Never fear, my little tuft hunter. I would marry you, and then no one would dare to offend you, no matter what your reputation.”

Cloud’s cheeks were already two little apples, from the heat, so Vincent didn’t notice that they turned slightly pinker. “Ah, ha ha. All joking aside, that princess of yours is certainly a piece of work. How old is she, anyway?”

“Nineteen.”

“Wow, really?” Cloud frowned. “I wouldn’t have guessed a day above sixteen.”

Vincent nodded his understanding. “Her grandmother dotes on her, so she has been sheltered and spoiled, and has never faced any adversity. Unless she does some maturing, before the time comes, I’m afraid Junon will pay the price, for putting such a ruler on their throne.”

“Oh, I see. Queen Grandma is hoping you’ll marry her, so that your influence will do her some good, as far as growing up. And even if it doesn’t, Junon will be able to rely on Valentine military power, as a deterrent, in case granddaughter pisses off any other nations. Is that close to right?”

“Perhaps you should go into statecraft, little devil. It appears you are a natural.”

Cloud drew himself up proudly. “Well, not to brag, but I have watched a lot of Wutaian palace dramas.”

Just then, a servant came to say that Her Majesty Queen Mireille asked for Valentine-sama’s company, in the east gallery, at his earliest convenience.

“Go ahead, I’ll be fine,” Cloud said, when Vincent hesitated. “I need to cool off for at least another ten minutes, before I’ll be ready to face the heat again, anyway.”

“Still, I don’t like leaving you alone,” Vincent frowned. “What if you are swept off your feet by some charming prince, while I’m away?”

“Then you’ll just have to challenge him to a duel and win me back. Go on. Don’t keep your Grandmother-in-law waiting.”

Pressing a kiss to Cloud’s hand, Vincent tore himself away and went off to attend the queen. Which was one of the weirdest things Cloud had ever experienced, on a date. Sure, he’d made President Shinra come on his dad’s desk and piss on a puppy training pad, and played somno-incest with Reeve, but having his date summoned away by real-life royalty was a new one.

He took one of his borrowed cigarettes from the silver case and lit it, then practiced leaning on the railing, trying to look carelessly cool, like Vincent. He felt he had it mostly down, but there was something to it he knew he wasn’t completely selling. Maybe you needed to be an actual old man to really project the kind of world-weary indifference, that made Vincent so captivating.

He was musing upon this, and watching his blue-white tobacco smoke curl up and waft away on the balmy night breeze, when there was a soft footstep behind him. Cloud’s spider-sense prickled and he tensed up to react, but in the next second, a throat was cleared.

“I beg your pardon, Strife-sama?”

Cloud turned to see a uniformed servant. “What is it?”

The young man bowed deeply. “Strife-sama, Valentine-sama requests your presence, right away. If the gentleman will please follow me, I will take you to him.”

“Sure, lead the way,” Cloud said, grinding out the cigarette butt, before he followed the servant inside.

They went through the main ballroom, his guide keeping to the fringes, so as not to drag him through the crowd, and then down a side passage, to a breezeway, which led across a courtyard, to another wing of the main building.

“What is he doing way out here?” Cloud asked. “Is everything alright?”

“Apologies, sir. I was only instructed to bring you to him,” the servant answered.

Cloud’s danger detection system was pinging faintly, but he chalked that up to his own paranoia, and unfamiliarity with the place. This wasn’t exactly a back-alley in the slums, anyway. It was the royal palace. It’s not like he was going to get mugged by a band of roving viscounts.

At length, the uniformed servant stopped at a door and bowed, as he opened it. Cloud stepped into the doorway and paused, frowning.

“Hey, it’s pitch dark in—” His sentence broke off abruptly, as several pairs of hands grabbed hold of him and dragged him roughly into the dark room.

A second later, a hand popped out, pushing a thick wad of bills into the servant’s hand. “You didn’t see anything. Now, get lost.”

The servant stuffed the cash into his pocket and practically ran away, across the courtyard. He felt terrible for tricking that pretty little blonde into going in there, with those thugs, but if he had refused, who knows what they’d have done to him. He was a literal nobody, and he couldn’t afford to lose this job, or worse, by offending the wrong people. At least this way, he got to keep all his limbs and make a little extra cash.

“Well, Vincent, here we are again,” the queen’s aged voice said, as he stepped into the east gallery. She was standing with her back to him, in front of the open windows, looking out over the palace gardens.

“Your Majesty,” Vincent replied, with a courtly bow.

“Don’t you ‘your majesty’ me, you old fox. We aren’t enemies, yet,” she snorted, turning to peer up at him in the bright light of the moon. “Good goddess, you get younger every time I see you. Where the hell do you get off looking like a damned kid, when the rest of us geezers are halfway to being mistaken for escaped mummies?”

“You know I can’t help it, Mireille. I never wanted to stay young forever.”

“You could have the decency to dye your hair grey. Or at least wear spectacles, or something.��

Vincent smiled. “I am pleased to find you are well, and in good spirits, my friend.”

“Yes, yes, I’m as healthy as a horse,” she said, waving her hand. “Let’s get down to brass tacks, shall we? What’s the meaning of you parading some cheap little doxy around, in front of all the gentry and heads of state, tonight?”

“That young man happens to be quite important to me,” Vincent said mildly. “Please don’t subject him to baseless insults.”

“Baseless? Ha!” The queen croaked out a laugh. “You think I don’t know exactly who and what he is? My intel agents aren’t that lazy. I knew all about him before he set foot on Wutaian soil.”

“As expected of my old friend,” Vincent said, dipping his chin.

“What the hell are you doing publicly associating with a whore, Vincent? You’re that determined to drag your family’s good name through the mud? What would your daddy think?”

Vincent’s smile remained tranquil, but his scarlet eyes glittered coldly. “My family’s good name means even less to me than my father’s opinion, Mireille. And the opinions of the gentry and heads of state rate lower, still. Are you not at all embarrassed, berating and disparaging a commoner, who is little more than a child, on your granddaughter’s behalf?”

The queen’s face worked, for a moment, as she tried to muster some royal indignation, but she quickly dropped the charade and her shoulders slumped. “Look, Vincent, I gave up on the marriage scheme, when Kyrie got old enough to start displaying her personality. She’s not the type to catch the interest of a man like you. She’s obstinate, impulsive, inconsiderate, and she only cares about being rich and pretty, just like her idiot father.

“Problem is, the damn fool thinks she’s in love with you, and won’t take no for an answer. You know I can’t bear to disappoint her, because of her mama, so I…I promised her I’d ask you again. Only, she got it into her head that I promised her you’d accept, and she’s been building her castles in the sky, since then.”

“Mireille, Mireille,” Vincent sighed. “A marriage will not solve your problems, and continued overindulgence will only make everything worse. You will live for a good long time, so take the opportunity to instill some discipline into the girl. I know that she seems hopeless, now, but if she’s anything like her grandmother, she has the capacity to mature into the wise and compassionate monarch, that Junon needs.”

“Hmph, you old flatterer,” the queen groused, pretending to be displeased. “Fine, I’ll take your advice, as best I can. I only wish some of that Valentine austerity had rubbed off on me, back when Grimoire was alive. Maybe I’d have been a better grandmother. Or at least a stricter one.”

“My father’s aloofness and austerity did not make me the person I am. You are already better parent to Kyrie, than my father was to me.”

“Alright, enough of that. Tell me about this little blonde, who’s so important to you. I never thought I’d see the day you’d open that cast-iron heart back up. Not after Lucy.”

Cloud, who had been at risk of very real bodily harm from many powerful men, including Sephiroth, Tseng, Rufus Shinra, and various others, over the course of his career, was expecting a lot worse than what he saw, when the lights went on, in the isolated storage room.

What he had expected, was Wutaian ninjas, or assassins from Junon, or Turks (on the off chance that Tseng had changed his mind and decided to kidnap him back to Midgar), or even Sephiroth, who seemed to have the ability to appear wherever he wanted, irrespective of the laws of time and space. What he got, was four not very bright-looking boys, aged between seventeen and nineteen, in tuxedos that seemed ill fitting and uncomfortable, despite the fact that they’d been tailored.

They were pretty big and brawny, obviously of the sports-inclined ilk, and two looked like they’d had more than a few broken noses. One of them had a cricket bat and one had brass knuckles, but those were all the weapons Cloud could see. They were just high-school kids.

“Is this all of you?” he asked, doubtfully, as they shoved him into the center of the room.

“What, you want more?” the dark-haired leader smirked. “I knew this one was a fucking slut.”

“Mh-hm. Just like those pretty little third-form fags, at school,” said the largest one, who had curly, fire-red hair.

One of them went to the door and made a big show of placing the old-fashioned locking bar and chain, intending to demonstrate to their captive that escape was impossible.

“Don’t bother calling for help, either,” the leader informed him. “There’s no one around to hear.”

“So you’re prep-school bullies, huh? I thought those only existed in movies and BL manga,” Cloud said, fascinated. “Wow, is that an actual cricket bat? Did you come right out of central casting?”

“Keep talking, faggot,” cricket guy grinned, slapping the heavy, wooden bat into his palm. “Every word outta your mouth is a tooth I’m gonna knock out, before I skullfuck you.”

Cloud squinted an eye at him. “You want to force me to suck your dick, and I’m the faggot? How does that make sense?”

“Shut up, slut!” the leader growled. “We all know you’re using your ass to worm your way into the Valentine family. Well, let’s see if that prissy vamp wants you anymore, after he sees what you do on your knees, for all of us.”

“I don’t have to hold the camera the whole time, right?” said the one who had locked the door, and who now had his phone out, apparently intending to record their criminal activity. “I want to do him, too.”

“I’ll take over for you, but I get to use his ass first,” the redhead leered, rubbing the bulge in the crotch of his trousers. “I’m already hard, just thinking about how he’s gonna squeal when I stick it in.”

The one with the brass knuckles laughed maliciously, seeing Cloud’s brow furrowed. “Finally getting scared, huh? Don’t worry, sugar. We’re gonna treat you right.”

“Hm? Scared?” Cloud blinked up at him, like he’d forgotten he was there. “No, it’s more like…out of my depth. See, I’ve never even been to high school. So, you’re going to regret this in ways I don’t have the vocabulary to properly express to educated young men, like you. Oh, I know. Maybe you could make use of those fine educations and help me think of some good words.”

“Enough talk, bitch,” cricket guy said, pointing the tip of his bat at Cloud. “Get on your knees, or we’ll put you on ‘em.”

“I bet you think that’s really intimidating,” Cloud replied pityingly. “Sorry to burst your bubble, but it only works when the person saying it is actually scary. Not a soft little dumpling who’s barely off his mother’s tit.”

“You piece of shit whore! Fuck you!” the dumpling in question roared, rushing forward to swing the bat at Cloud’s head.

Cloud easily ducked under the clumsy attack, swept the boy’s legs with a whiplash kick, caught the bat midair, and brought it down with a hollow thud, on the back of his head.

It was all so fast, his cronies hardly had time to process what they were seeing, let alone react. Meanwhile, cricket guy curled up and started rolling around, howling like he was dying.

“What a fucking baby. I didn’t even hit you hard enough to crack your skull,” Cloud scoffed, stepping over his writhing body, toward his associates, who were suddenly looking a little green in the face. “Ok, who’s next? You all wanted a turn, right? What about you, red? Didn’t you want to hear some squealing?”

The redhead backed up hastily, stumbling over camera guy, who dropped his phone, shattering the screen. Knuckles guy had run to the door, but the lock bar and chain were too complicated for him to get open, before the blood-spattered cricket bat tapped the door in front of his face.

“You guys wanted to trap me in here with you,” Cloud said, with a deranged smile. “Now you’re trapped in here with me.”

The brass knuckles fell to the floor with a ringing clatter, as knuckles guy backed away from the little blonde, ash-white and visibly shaking with terror. “Y—your eyes! What the fuck is with your eyes, man! S—snake! Snake demon!”

Thanks to the forethought of the four would-be assailants, the servants on duty in that area of the palace had all been bribed or threatened to mind their own business, for a while. Thus, the cracks, thuds, crashes, wails, and screams that filled the storage room, for the next half hour or so, were heard by no one who paid the slightest bit of attention.

“Gross, there’s blood on my shoe.” Cloud scowled down at the redhead, whose face was so battered and swollen, the features were hardly distinguishable. “Vincent gave me these, you better hope it comes off.”

The boy gurgled out some pathetic, unintelligible noises, in reply.

“You’re right, they’re finished leather. Of course it will.”

So saying, Cloud bent down and ripped off the redhead’s cummerbund, which he used to carefully wipe the boot clean.

“Good as new. Thanks, red, you’re a lifesaver,” he said jauntily, dropping the soiled accessory on the boy’s supine person. “Oh, and give the princess my regards. I was in serious danger of getting bored, but you guys really livened up the evening. Sayonara, gentlemen.”

“Little devil, I apologize for leaving you for so long. The queen was in a rather chatty temper, this evening, and kept me longer than I intended,” Vincent said, when he returned to the balcony, to find Cloud exactly where he’d left him, seated idly on the railing, sipping a cocktail and smoking a cigarette.

Cloud smiled sweetly, looking like the purest sunlight and daisies in spring. “No sweat, I’ve been entertaining myself, just fine.”

Vincent leaned in to press a kiss to his cheek, then drew away, frowning. “I smell blood.”

“Oh, don’t worry. It’s not mine. I’m kind of over this party, though. Can we get out of here?”

“Mn. You read my mind.”

Vincent’s eye glowed like a small sun, when they were in the car on the way back to the Valentine ryokan, and Cloud told him what happened, with the four thugs and the storage room. He wanted to go back and raise (likely literal) hell, but Cloud soothed him with kisses and by stroking his hair, till his eyes drooped and he buried his face in the boy’s neck, purring like a big cat.

It did also help that Cloud had forced the boys to confess to what they did—and more importantly, who put them up to it—and recorded it on his phone camera, which recording he had already sent to Vincent, to do with as he pleased. Vincent sent the video right along to the queen, who only responded with, “I see. I will deal with her.”

“Hoo, boy,” Cloud shuddered. “I almost feel bad for your little princess, now.”

“You are my only little princess,” Vincent mumbled, muffled by Cloud’s collar.

“You’re purring like a cat, you know,” Cloud laughed. “Is that a demon thing?”

“It’s a Valentine thing, but it’s not related to the demon. It is rare, though. I only knew my father and grandfather to do it, aside from me.”

Unseen to Vincent, who was busy pressing his fangs gently into his lover’s soft neck, Cloud’s smile froze on his face. He knew exactly one other person, who purred like this, when his long hair was petted.

But it had to be a coincidence. There was absolutely no possibility that Sephiroth and Vincent were in any way related to one another. Was there? No. It would be insane to even suggest such a thing. It was definitely just a coincidence. A weird, weird coincidence.

Definitely.

THE AUTHOR HAS SOMETHING TO SAY definitely

NEXT CHAPTER

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