Attention captivated. Satoru's question was left unanswered — rather, the line of questioning was interrupted by the swift extension of Suguru's arm and digits gripping the collar of his friend's shirt; he very nearly ripped the material with the adamancy of action. ❛ Satoru, look. ❜

Suguru bent over and because he was gripping onto the other teenager's shirt, forced him to bend over as well. A large cardboard box was situated on the curb outside an apartment complex, and the cutest little pile of fur was housed within the box. Four kittens of varying colours stared at the world with wide eyes, stared at the gathering of awwing children. Suguru shoved past ( more like towered over ) all the kids to admire the creatures for himself with an expression overflowing with warmth and longing. ❛ What do you think? ❜

With the violence with which Satoru was suddenly yanked aside, he'd assumed his friend had serious objections with his One Piece opinions and they were about to start a brawl on the side of the street. Before he could start throwing punches and potentially knocking Suguru into a pile of children, the object of his friend's attention focused in the middle of his own vision.

Oh, right, the kittens. He'd sensed them as they'd approached and passed, but hadn't thought twice about them. He stared now at the big round eyes as they made high pitched squeaks and thought with some amusement how his friends would often compare him to one of these creatures.

He locked eyes with one of the kittens who froze for a second at his attention. Then it opened its mouth showing tiny razor-sharp teeth, screaming dramatically before falling sideways from its perch on a sibling's head.

Satoru snorted, prying Suguru's fingers off his collar so that he could straighten up.

"Okay, they're pretty cute. What, are you thinking of keeping them?" The look on Yaga-sensei's face would be priceless.

(Semi) Grown-Ass Man - (Peter Maximoff - X-Men: Dark Phoenix)

!!X-MEN DARK PHOENIX SPOILERS!!

Author’s Note: Hey, LividFigureSkatingLover (Ash) here! I hope you enjoyed the fic posted last week that Jimmy uploaded for me. That was actually something I’d written months ago but we felt like it would be an appropriate beginning fic. This, however, is a fresh fic that I started writing the day after Jimmy and I went to see Dark Phoenix on opening night. Needless to say, we were both disappointed with the critical lack of Peter in this movie. Like, you can’t just yeet your fan-favorite character into the sidewalk and have him carried off the jet in a stretcher without acknowledging anything! Anyways, next week will be Jimmy’s week to upload a fic, so you won’t see me for a while, but I can assure you my next fic is in the works. HINT: It’s addressing the critical lack of Dadneto in this film (although after that I think I’ll be done with the Peter fics for now.) Anyways, enjoy the fic! (This fic is also unedited so if you catch any errors, feel free to let me know!)

Word Count: 5749

It had all felt like an instant. One moment, the X-Men were emerging from their jet to bring Jean Grey home, the next, irreversible and horrific destruction. It all ended with Jean soaring into the sky and disappearing into the clouds with a distraught Scott and an angry and grief-ridden Hank on the asphalt. Charles slumped back into his chair and sighed. Nobody could have expected this. The crushed police cars and house smashed like a Popsicle stick craft project were just white noise to the heavy betrayal, anger, grief, and pain filling the atmosphere. The uncanny silence was only broken when Scott angrily shouted,"what the actual fuck are we supposed to do? Jean can't just, she didn't just, she wouldn't ha-"

"Damnit, Scott, can you shut your mouth for two seconds?!" Hank angrily seethed to the laser-eyed man. "You're not the only one standing here in the wake of Jean's unprovoked carnage. I don't think you can even begin to imagine how I feel right now... at least Jean's body isn't sticking out from a protruding wood spire"

Scott, being an impulsive young man, used every ounce of discipline in his reserve and resisted the strong urge to fire up an argument with Hank, and seconds after seeing Raven's impaled corpse, the fiery retort died on his lips, and it was instead replaced by a sudden realization as to the damage Jean had caused, emotionally and physically. The white noise of destruction was now a heavy screaming siren pounding in everyone's ears. Hank needed something to take his mind off of what had happened, losing his unrequited love due to a selfish impulse from one of his lifelong friends was too much for his mind to process at the moment. Since he couldn't do anything else, Hank did what he did best, took a calculated approach to fixing the catastrophe around him.

"We need to find Kurt and Peter. Scott, come help me... please," Hank trailed off as he turned away from Raven's lifeless body. "Charles, do something with her."

The cold and almost robotic tone from Hank was a sharp, almost eerie, contrast from the distraught tears that, only minutes ago, were streaming down his cheeks. Scott's mind, clouded by his own lovesick thoughts, followed Hank's orders on autopilot. Charles remained silent and observant as Scott and Hank trudged to the wooden remnants of Jean's childhood home in search of Kurt and Peter.

After what seemed like hours of precariously moving rubble and assorted wood pieces, Scott saw a mop of black and blue hair under a cracked 4x4.

"Hank, I think I found Kurt," Scott breathed a sigh of relief.

"Be careful, let's get all this off of him," Hank replied.

The two worked carefully and precisely until all of Kurt's body was exposed. His yellow uniform and his face were dusty and covered in grime and a small amount of blood. Hank gently tapped on the mutant teen's face as Scott hovered over his shoulder. Kurt didn't stay unresponsive for long though, and after a few of Hank's prods, he shot up off the floor with Jean's name fresh on his tongue, unaware of what had transpired after he'd been rendered unconscious.

"W-what? Jean, where's Jean? Is everyone okay?" the words fell out faster than Kurt himself could even process, and his mind hadn't quite caught up with the fact that he'd been crushed under the weight of an entire house.

"Kid, slow down. We'll explain later, okay? How do you feel? Do you know where Peter is?" Scott asked, questions firing faster than intended.

"No, I'm sorry. I can help you look for him though. Let me do something, I swear I'm fine." Kurt shot up off the ground, only to stumble into Scott's unprepared arms.

"Take it easy. Jean collapsed a house on top of you, I don't know how great you'll be functioning at the moment," Hank explained as Kurt nodded slowly with an exhausted and pained wince. "Alright, let's go find Peter."

Scott slung the lanky blue mutant's arm over his shoulder to support his weight as the trio began to search for the silver speedster. Since he moved so quickly it was hard to actually determine what Jean even did to Peter, as their confrontation lasted less than seconds to the average person's eye. The only thing Hank and Scott had seen was Peter being catapulted across the street and out of sight, so neither were all too excited to find out as to how he might be faring.

It took some time, but the three eventually stumbled upon Peter's battle-broken body lying slumped against a tree in a thick wooded area dozens of yards away from the street where Jean had wreaked havoc. Trailing his body was a coarse trail of uprooted grass and dirt, emphasizing the power and distance he'd been hurled across. Peter seemed almost as lifeless as Raven, his body heavily slumped against the tree he'd collided  with, blood streaking his X-Men uniform, face, and silver hair, along with dark dirt blotching his sweaty face, which was pulled up into a pained grimace. His signature goggles were loosely strung in his messily kept hair and one of the lenses was very visibly shattered, an ugly spider-like crack pronounced in the center of the lens.

"Oh my god, Peter!" Kurt let out a strangled cry as he laid eyes on his friend. He tried to stop the sobs as each one wracked his battered and sore body, but he couldn't. This was too much for him to bear.

As Kurt's sobs filled the forest, Hank ran his calculative eyes up and down Peter's body as his mind contemplated what would be the best course of action. He didn't want to risk worsening any external or internal injuries by jostling him in a carry to the jet, but he wasn't all too sure what help he could do with Peter out cold in the woods with no real medical assistance or tools around to help. As Scott tried to calm the ever panicked Kurt, Hank gingerly shifted Peter from his half-upright slumped position to lying flat on the ground. He ripped open the top of Peter's X-Men uniform and scanned the damage; bruises as black and blue as Kurt's hair dotted Peter's pale chest and his upper right shoulder. This wasn't going to be fun to deal with. Hank shot his eyes back to Peter's blood-stained face, hoping that tearing off his clothes would at least elicit some sort of response from the boy. Alas, nothing. As the seconds ticked by, Hank devised the one plan that would end in the least harm to all of them.

"Kurt, I know we're far away, I know you're tired, I know you're injured, but I need you to teleport us back to the jet. We can't move Peter like this, it's too risky, he's too badly hurt and I don't want to make this more painful for him than it has to be. You've gotta do this for us, okay?" Hank explained. He knew the kid's power took energy out of everyone he was teleporting, and with the damage eveyone'd sustained from the battle, it would be too dangerous to have Kurt warp multiple times, Peter wouldn't make it, and judging from his hazy eyes, Kurt didn't have enough energy for more than one teleport anyways.

Anxious scenarios began flooding Kurt's mind as his eyes filled with fear, the words he spoke dripping with self-doubt, "W-what if I can't? What if I mess it all u-up and I warp us halfway into a car and kill us all! H-hank, I can't do it."

Instead of coddling the boy like he normally would have, Hank let the dire situation speak for itself when he bluntly stated, "Kurt, I know you're scared, but Peter might die if we can't get him back to the jet. You've gotta take some faith in yourself and your powers and get us home, okay? Don't do it for me, do it for Peter. He needs you to do this for him."

It may have been the stern yet sincere tone of Hank's words, or hearing outright that Peter might die, but Kurt mustered up enough confidence to say, "alright... for Peter."

Hank shifted Peter into his lap as he joined hands with Scott and Kurt. Kurt silently prayed to God that he wouldn't kill all of his friends by pushing his ability's limits in an already weakened state, and with a last tension filled breath, the group disappeared into a dark cloud, appearing, seconds later, in the jet.

Scott felt extremely disoriented after the warp and his eyes raced around the jet before they landed on Hank's face, "shit. That felt weird."

"Indeed," Hank replied.

"I-I did it," Kurt sighed in relief as his eyelids fluttered closed and he collapsed onto the floor.

"Kurt!" Scott exclaimed.

"He's fine, just overexerted himself. He just needs to sleep for a bit and eat. This happened after his fight in Cairo too. Now hurry up and help me with Peter, he's not doing too hot," Hank explained as he set to work.

------

WOW A TIME SKIP...  At Xavier's School in the weird bunker area where they do X-Men stuff...

"He's still not up. You're gonna have to do something, Hank. He's gonna start healing and I don't think that his shoulder is gonna do it properly with the way it looks right now," Scott stated as he stared blankly at Peter's bloody and bruised body on the gurney.

Hank ran his fingers through his hair as he tossed his glasses onto the lab table. He didn't wanna set the joint without Peter being conscious, for fear he'd spring awake and cause himself even more harm if he took an instantaneous flight response. But, if he waited too long, Peter's enhanced healing would work against his favor and heal the crucial joint in the wrong way. He had to make a decision, and although it posed risks, it was better than Peter sustaining lasting joint damage.

Hank was just about to grab the limb to jerk it back into place when Peter shot up from the gurney with a blood-curdling scream of pure agony. Peter's eyes were hazy, confused, and full of pain as they raced around in search of what was going on and why everything hurt so bad. His eyes eventually met Hank's as he collapsed back onto the gurney, heaving heavy pained breaths into his cut and bruised chest.

"Hank, w-whass happenin, wha happened to me? E-everrythin's blurry and hurts," Peter slurred as tears unwillingly escaped the corners of his eyes. Throbbing, pulsing pain coursed through Peter's seemingly small frame as he started to unwillingly cry out of confusion and agonizing pain.

"Peter, you're at the X-Men base under the school. Jean threw you across the street with her powers and you hit a tree. You are safe and you're gonna be okay. I'm gonna help you, okay?" Hank said slowly to the shaken boy. Peter only gave a tiny pained nod as he bit his lip to try and stifle his crying.

"Can't we give him anything to numb the pain, like anesthesia or even ibuprofen? Setting the shoulder is gonna be excruciating for him," Scott asked, just wanting to lessen the agony for Peter.

"That's the thing, though. His fast healing and super speed are paired with an extremely quick metabolism. Anything we could give him in a normal person's dosage, he would burn right through."

"Can't we just give him a higher dosage?"

"If you wanna risk him overdosing, then sure."

Scott cast sympathetic eyes down onto Peter's terrified face, and although hidden by the signature ruby-lensed glasses, were full of sorrow as he fully realized what Jean had done. He felt nothing but pity for the pure fear and pain the boy was feeling. Peter's mind was racing back to when they had to set his broken leg and he didn't want to go through that again. He felt pathetic, a (semi)grown-ass man crying because he had to get a limb set. His sarcastic and dry-humored subconscious internally retorted: grow a pair!

"I'm sorry, Peter. We're gonna have to do this now. Bite this," Hank said as he dangled a rag above Peter's now bleeding lips. Peter grit his teeth and graciously took the cloth as the only thing to provide a semblance of comfort to the undoubted pain he was about to experience. "Alright, Scott, I need you to hold him down in case this goes South..."

Scott nodded in affirmation as he grabbed onto Peter's other arm and hovered above his already pretty immobile body while Hank took one more tentative glance over the silver-haired boy before locking eyes with Scott and clutching Peter's bicep in one hand and his shoulder blade with his other.

"Do you want me to count down?" Hank asked, knowing full well he would count to 3 but snap on 2. Peter nodded as he scrunched up his face with terrified anticipation, a visible layer of shining sweat collecting on his features. "Okay, one, tw-"

The last sound of 'two' was cut off by the cracking of a limb and Peter's howl and wailing cries of pure agony as he thrashed about violently on the gurney as Scott tried his best to gently restrain him without causing any more pain. Fat and ugly tears were freely streaming down Peter's face as the crippling pain in his shoulder coursed through his body and started to dull into an acute ache resonating from the base of his neck all the way down his bicep. His vision was blurred not only by his salty tears but by the waves of pain and adrenaline attempting to cancel each other out like an ocean current crashing into a reef bay. It was all a bit too much for Peter to handle. He went to curl in on himself, a primal instinct to go to the fetal position was shooting to his mind, yet when he tried, every dulled injury in his torso screamed back an affirmative and defiant: no!

Hank had sent Scott to get water bottles when he heard Peter's defeated and miserable whimper, which sent his own head whipping around to face the boy using his left arm to desperately clutch at his raw and tender torso, which was covered in dirt filled cuts and bruises that were attempting to heal over. Like any mutant power, there was a limit, and it was clear that Peter's advanced healing was taking on way more than it was able to handle, so his body's scattered attempts to heal his numerous external and internal injuries weren't doing him any favors besides exhausting him of what little energy he had.

"I'm sorry, Peter, I know you're in a lot of pain right now but I can't do anything for you but stitch up your major cuts and scan you for internal injuries. You know you can't have the regular pain medication," Hank stated, apprehension seeping into his every word as he ran his fingers through Peter's messy and unkempt hair that was now rifled with blood and sweat in an attempt to soothe the boy.

"I-I can't it... my c-chest," Peter stumbled through his attempted sentence, taking hasty and pinched wheezes instead of true breaths between his words. He was past humiliation at this point, any semblance of his normally sarcastic and fun-loving self was covered up by his embarrassment and indescribable pulsating torment wracking his body. Here he was, crying like a toddler while Hank of all people was petting his scalp, what an uncanny situation.

Scott returned moments later with extra towels and an armful of water bottles nestled hastily in his grasp. Much to Peter's dismay, Hank was terrified that Peter might choke if he stayed laying down, so his stitches and internal scan were going to be done upright. The simple shift in the gurney's position further aggravated the mysterious angry irritation in Peter's chest and sent him into a series of dry and forceful coughs, each one racking his exhausted body harder than the last. Peter never thought in a million years that the crack of the plastic seal on a water bottle would be so gratifying, yet here he was, face melting at the opportunity to soothe his parched esophagus and hopefully replenish at least some of his lost energy. Scott took to cleaning out Peter's minor injuries, starting the stitches, and helping him drink, while Hank was running a full body diagnostic on the silver-haired mutant. Peter's mind had slipped into a half-conscious yet fully-feeling feverish state where he wasn't really functioning, yet he knew what was happening. It took every ounce of his strength not to just pass out and sleep. He felt the tense prick of the needle every time Scott went back to further close up a gaping wound and he felt the ever present stare of Hank as he started running all his scans. The only time Peter came out of this hazy half-awake state was to drink that delightful and soothing water. Compared to every other sensory input, the water felt like heaven in the fiery depths of hell. The soothing liquid ran down his arid windpipe and seemed to address his every need, until it hit his stomach and he was met with a discomforted static strain in his abdomen. It was uncomfortable, sure, but didn't seem like it needed to be addressed, so Peter plastered on his bravest face (still kind of failing though) as he lightly furrowed his brow and drew his knees up closer to his chest, despite the protest of his aching (and presumably broken) ribs. Scott noticed, as did Hank, but neither thought too much of it as they continued with their busy work. Again, none of them were prepared as to what would happen next.

Fifteen minutes later, just as the diagnostic's results were finishing up, Peter's slight discomfort had warped into a stabbing and indescribable pain as he was wracked with waves of thick and heavy nausea. Scott was almost done with tying off the last gash on Peter's injured arm when he jerked violently to the side and began projectile vomiting, the only thing arising from Peter's forceful heaving being sticky yellow bile and an alarming mix of blood. Each unproductive heave was followed up by another wave of sickening nausea, which was followed up by another (usually successful) upchuck of fluids. Peter was running out of breath, strength, and stomach contents to empty as he grasped desperately to Scott's arm and his own horribly aggravated abdomen.

"Oh, Peter! Oh my god! Hank, what do I do?!" Scott yelled  frantically as he reached to hold back Peter's long and uncontrolled hair as the latter's body faltered over into another bout of wheezy heaving. Scott, however, was not expecting to have his hand be met with an alarming heat that seemingly radiated off of Peter's forehead. He touched his hands around the rest of Peter's face and his neck during a calm period of the heaving and Hank took the opportunity to hastily place a trashcan between Peter's legs to lessen the contortion his body had to do in order to avoid vomiting his own bodily fluids onto himself. "He's got a bad fever. Is this from th-"

"It's because his body's working too hard to handle everything happening to it," Hank cut him off  "It doesn't know where or when to start or stop and it's confused. He needs fluids to replenish his energy, especially after throwing up every ounce of water you just gave him. We're probably going to have to administer an IV."

The large technologically advanced screen in front of him blinked and beeped, signifying that the diagnostic was finished. At a speed that only Peter could best (at full health), Hank pulled up the imaging and was met with two giant glaring orange marks on an overall blue scan; those being 3 fractured ribs and some sort of internal injury on Peter's stomach lining. Oh my god, Hank thought to himself before nearly shouting to Scott, "He's internally bleeding in his stomach, that's why he vomited. That's why there's so much blood... " Hank took a second to calculate what to do. "We need him hooked up to an IV, NOW. Go get me the supplies."

Scott didn't even nod as he scrambled to his feet and dashed off to find what Hank needed. Peter himself was almost completely unconscious at this point, the high fever , empty reserves of strength, and overwhelming pain from every inch of his body were the perfect trio of unbearable feelings were one stroke away from completely pulling him under a fitful blanket of unconsciousness. He was just about to pass the brink and into the darkness when he felt the abrupt patting of Hank dabbing a soaked rag across his face and the dripping of cool water down his neck. The next thing he felt was the forceful jab in his arm and the strange dull feeling of the unknown slowly overtaking him. His spotted vision gave way to darkness as everything faded away.

"Peter? Damnit, he passed out. It's fine, we just need to keep him stable. I don't know how sustainable this is going to be for him. His body is gonna churn through this fluid faster than a toddler sips a juice box, but it's better than nothing," Hank sighed. And for the first time since Peter had awoken, the room filled with an unsettling complacent silence, the only other thing occupying the space being the exhausted pants from Hank and Scott, accompanied by Peter's tight and wheezy breathing.

------

WOW, ANOTHER TIME SKIP... At relatively the same location we were earlier, but like, a day later...

"Ughh..." Peter groaned. Unlike the previous day's events, though, was brought out less by discomfort, and more from boredom. He fidgeted anxiously with a loose thread on his pants while Hank swapped out his IV for what seemed like the thousandth time between the last 24 hours. "When can I get up and you know" Peter gestured abruptly with his hands "go."

"Give it a few more days, Peter. I know your mind is saying that it wants to get up and run 5 laps around the earth, but your body isn't ready for it. You're still running a temperature, your arm isn't going to be in full shape for a while, you might need physical therapy, the ligaments were pretty screwed up, and I don't want you aggravating your ribs or your stomach just yet," Hank insisted as Peter rolled his eyes. The speedster, despite knowing he wasn't nearly ready to be up and flying across rooms at the speed of sound, wanted to be productive. Part of his motivations for being up and at it was also the fact that he wished to hide his immense shame from the relented sob-fest that was yesterday evening by (like how Peter dealt with most of his problems) running until he couldn't feel his legs or until he couldn't give a damn and cared about nothing except the blurred scenery around him. However, it was hard to do either of those things when you were confined to a gurney in a bunker with an IV drip tethered to one arm and a sling on another.

As Hank left the room,  Peter was met by yet another sickening silence, this time, the only thing filling the room was his growing sense of wanting to be productive and just run, but alas, he couldn't. Having just slept for a sizable amount of the day, Peter was just itching for some entertainment, but being stuck in an empty room with no such objects to scratch that itch, he was growing irritable.

Little did the silver-haired mutant know that another certain lanky teleporting teen was standing right outside the door to his room in the medical bay, working up the courage to rebel against Hank's firm: "no, he needs to sleep" statement that Kurt was met with when he asked if he could go and visit his friend. Not being one to break many rules, Kurt was apprehensive about entering, hence his (kind of silly) minor internal dilemma. Mustering up enough courage, Kurt warped inside the room, where he was met with a "Jesus Christ!" from Peter. Kurt, startled by the shout, stumbled backwards and fell. From his position on the ground, he let out a shy,"hi, Peter. How are you feeling?"

"God, dude, you scared the shit out of me. Give a man a warning before you teleport into his private room where he's being held captive against his will next time!" Peter answered, sarcasm dripping in every syllable.

Kurt, being known to take nearly everything extremely literally, responded,"Has Hank been corrupted!? What has he done to you Peter? Do I need to tell the professor that Hank's gone mad, or is it all one big conspiracy?!"

"Whoa there, chill. As much as I'd like the added spice in life that a Hank-and-Charles-gone-mental plot would provide, I think it's safe to say that they're pretty sane... for now."

"Alrighty then. Well, I've come against Hank's wishes to keep you company, what do you want to do?"

"Hank wants me to suffer and die alone? What a traitor!" Peter grabbed at his chest, feigning heartbreak, wincing as his attempt at humor irritated his cracked ribs.

"I doubt that is true. I believe that the correct term to describe your behavior would be a drama queen."

"You'd be correct, buckaroo. Would you mind zipping to my room and grabbing my Walkman and my GameBoy?"

"Um, no problem," Kurt replied as he disappeared in a dark cloud.

Mere moments later, he reappeared with the music player and the gaming device. Peter eagerly reached out for both devices, acting like a hyperactive toddler who'd just been offered a lollipop. Although, the hyperactive toddler description wasn't too far off from Peter's personality normally. The plastic shells of both items were like comfort food and finally brought some form of distraction besides twiddling his thumbs for hours on ends or watching that 'maybe-speck-of-dust-maybe-spider' dance along the bright walls. He switched on his music and popped in an earbud, offering the other to a tentative looking Kurt.

"Dude, you've gotta try this. Please don't tell me Scott's scared you off from American music with his pansy-ass music," Peter insisted as he spun the earbud with his unslinged hand.

"It's not that... it's just, your music, in particular, has, on several occasions, shaken the entire school," Kurt replied as he took the listening device.

"It's called a 'jam session', Kurt," Peter explained as he used very visible air quotes to emphasize his point.

"Alright, if you insist," Kurt sighed as the guitar rifs and crashing of drums filled his pointed ears. He wasn't the hugest fan of all of Peter's loud rock or the deep heavy beats of Scott's rap, but he sat there regardless to try and enjoy a quiet moment with his friend. Moments like these were becoming harder and harder to come by as their world seemed to get even more hectic. The mutants had assumed that the battle in Cairo would have been the worst of it, it sure felt like it at the time, but now they were facing a new evil, one of their friends. Kurt really wanted to talk to Peter about it, maybe even break the news that Raven died, but he felt too timid, and compared to Peter's bold and audacious personality, he felt like nothing. Peter stopped his headbanging for a moment, and that sliver of time was long enough to notice the semi-uncharacteristic silence from the shy yet friendly Kurt, who was awkwardly staring at Peter's feet, caught in an apparent distracted trance, all headed by the semi-somber and contemplative look plastered on his face. Peter clicked the pause and the cassette stopped rolling. This seemed to snap Kurt out of his trance, and the new silence was quickly filled by Peter.

"You got a toe fetish or something? I mean, I know I'm incredibly sexy, but I didn't know you were into that, Kurt. Jeez!" he teased. Kurt just drew his knees up to his chest and shrunk up his neck to try and hide; whether he was hiding from embarrassment of having a strange sexual trigger or something else on his mind was completely beyond Peter's thoughts.

"You never answered my question..."

"What question?"

"How are you feeling. When we went to try and stop Jean, she crushed me with her house, and I couldn't help at all. I felt useless. It... sucked. And then, Scott and Hank dug me out of the rubble and we went to find you. You looked..." Kurt started choking on his own words, scared he'd start crying. Peter felt a strong urge to make another joke about his 'very undoubtedly sexy' body to finish the sentence, but he wanted to hear him finish. He knew Kurt was going somewhere serious when the German boy used the word: sucked, it didn't seem like something in his vocabulary, much less like a word he'd willingly use unless he really felt like he needed to. "I saw you there, laying on the ground, covered in dirt, bleeding everywhere, with this horrible, agonized expression on your face, just... stuck there. I'm so used to you smirking, laughing, or doing that weird thing where you raise your eyebrows up and down after you are sarcastic or make a joke, and to see you like that, still and sad, I just cried. I was terrified that you were already dead. I've never seen you sit still on your own for more than 5 minutes. Even after the fight in Cairo when you had your entire leg broken and in a cast on crutches, you were still smiling, animated as ever. I don't know how you do it, Peter... you're always so happy. I mean, I try, but I can't help but be..."

"Scared?"

"Yeah." For a few moments, the room was silent, seemingly becoming a common theme, and yet again, it did not last long.

"Hahaha..."

"Peter, are you... laughing?"

"You've got me all wrong, Kurt. I may be an impatient wiseass, but don't get me wrong, I've got plenty of moments in my backlog where I felt like I was gonna piss myself. You were talking about after the Cairo fight?" Kurt nodded "Well, during that fight, I went in, guns a blazin', ready to beat the shit out of this weird edgy blue raisin lookin' guy, yet a few seconds later, I'm getting my arm twisted way further than it's supposed to and my leg getting completely fucked up. In that moment, I was sure I was going to die. Had it not been for Raven and Erik, I probably would have."

Kurt gnawed his bottom lip and curled further in on himself at the mention of Raven. Peter didn't know. He doubted Hank would have brought up his resented heartbreak to the seemingly immature speedster. He wasn't sure if he wanted to tell him; Would the timing be appropriate? Would he be able to handle the weight of the loss? Peter'd even said that Raven had been a massive inspiration to him when he was younger on the jet where they had their first real conversation. It'd be hard to swallow the pill that one of your friends had been possessed and just murdered your childhood hero while recovering from blunt trauma. It all made Kurt's head spin and ultimately, he decided against it.

"Sorry to get all deep and edgy on ya. I didn't want you waltzing around screeching about my fearlessness or something, I don't know." Peter shrugged as best as he could before whipping out his GameBoy and waving it in Kurt's face.

"Umm, I don't understand what this is. It looks like a plastic box. Does this one also play music?"

"Naw, this is one of those cool new things from Japan. It's a handheld gaming device."

"Oh. So it's like the large arcade machines... but smaller?"

"Yeah, it's pretty bangin'. I've got Super Mario Land in the slot now, wanna try?"

"Yes!" Kurt took the device from Peter and was about to dive in when he tentatively asked "Umm, Peter? What is the objective?"

"You get the tiny man with the hat from the left to the right and eventually you'll find a lady and win. I guess even minuscule pixelated dudes need a babe," Peter joked. However, Kurt was already encapsulated in the tiny, unlit screen, a little beep going off every time he made the character jump. Peter watched with amusement as he resumed his mixtape with one earbud in, the other listening to the whirring air conditioner and the GameBoy's clacking buttons.

Content with his friend's newfound excitement and ease of mind, Peter felt his eyelids growing heavy and his breaths growing slower and deeper without any conscious feeling of pain with the intake of oxygen. And finally, without any thoughts of his dislocated shoulder, unsolved father-related problems, or his red-haired, newly space-fart-possessed, destruction causing friend, he drifted off to sleep with a content, comfortable, and very quicksilver-y smirk plastered on his face

The Long Aldrich Fanfiction Nobody Asked For (Aldi x Reader(F))

READ IT BEFORE TUMBLR TAKES IT DOWN

Table of Content (If ya just want “certain” parts):

- Set Up, “Only moments ago you were found out” - Meeting Aldi, “Almost like waiting for that request,” - Foreplay, “Aldrich beautifully chuckles.” - Cunnilingus, “Oh yes, my dearest scruple of nourishment!” - Intercourse, “Aldrich licked his lips as he watched you” - Blow Job, “Aldrich leaned back and layed down” - Resolution, “Thou looks as if finished.”

Only moments ago you were found out to be slinking in the once market streets for whatever you could scavenge. Unlike the average resident of Anor Londo, you cannot solely survive on little to nothing, for you are a rare delicacy in these parts of the forbidden land. As far to your knowledge, you are the only living human for miles, and from the reactions of the elite, it is worse than rare. From what you have witnessed, everyone kills everyone who is foreign to these parts, however, when you were kidnapped, murder was not the goal. Death would have been a quick and easy extermination, but you felt something dreadful was being planned for you by how careful they were not to mortally wound your body. You struggled and grabbed anything you could use to fend yourself, but the undead were far too strong and knocked you unresponsive.

Regaining consciousness, you could not see. Your hands were bound behind your back and you had a ringing in your ears. With ungraceful movement, you stir by accident and alert your captors. They placed you on your feet and forced you to walk. By the sound of shuffling, you guessed you were surrounded. You had no idea where they are headed, but it must have been far away from the market because you were freezing cold from the amount of time spent outside. It was eerily quiet, even for this desolate kingdom.

Finally, you sensed the entering of some building. By the sounds bouncing within, it was lofty and elevated, which meant one thing: stairs. You already have a habit of falling down stairs and it has not happened for months, but this lucky streak might end. Using this as an excuse to be annoying, you state the fact to the soldiers, to which they ignored. Eventually you did manage to trip on some steps, and because you were bound, you could barely help yourself to get up. A few more scenes of this the soldiers finally gave up and carried your grinning self the rest of the way up.

The tower was absurdly tall. You felt the air around you grow thin and drop temperature even more. The armored knights did not put you down, for there were more of your worst enemy, until you were directly in front of the door.

Almost like to return the favor, they dropped you on your back with a loud ‘thud.’ Forced to get up on your own, it felt warmer in this newfound building. Pyromancy is a familiar ability, so maybe that had something to do with the sudden temperature change. Prayers are heard from the distance in the echoing halls, and large beast sounding feet are heard mucking about, coming closer. If it was not for the blindness, you would not of been scared of a monster acknowledging you, for you have become so used to terrifying creatures they have become normal, all the way to the point where you are fascinated by the array and colorful variants of beasties; you have even become friends with a couple of them! This one, however, came far too close for comfort. You felt the musky and heavy breathing from this animal’s gaping maw. It must have recently eaten something because you were about ready to vomit by the pure stench of flesh. Luckily, it was just curious about you, and the soldiers had you move forward across the vocal filled structure.

The knights stop you in front of a large wall, which then revealed to be a door once opened. Whatever room you are about to enter was no ordinary living space. You could hear the jumbling and disgusting squish of who knows what, but your best guess was pure bone and flesh because it reeked of it, even worse than the previously met creature’s. The smell was so vile that your eyes watered. A few seconds later, you are unable to smell anything. You could breathe clearly from it, but apparently the stench was so bad it fried your sense of smell. Despite the vast danger that will highly happen, you were oddly, and silently, impressed.

Sloshing through the unknown muck, the captors drag you some feet into the room, forced you on your knees, and then left, closing the door behind them. Silence. Silence was never a good sign. You learned through your years in the monster infested streets that being scared only hinders a person from thinking correctly. Unknown if taught or developed through denial, you make light of a horrible situation. You talk to yourself, beginning with a large sigh,

“So, uh, may I have this blindfold off now? I would like to see this room. You know, to see if it’s as wonderful as it smells.” Despite the unsmellable miasma, you were still curious on seeing the carnage in the room. Anatomy has always interested you, even though you would mourn for an animal being murdered in your sights. Waiting for any noise to occur, you shift your position to something more comfortable and relaxing, for you are terrified, but you know you can deceive yourself from that feeling by sitting criss cross with a forced smile on your face. Whatever comes for you, you want its guard down.

“Hello-o?” spoken in a sing-song voice from your lips. “I would love to meet whoever I have been presented to. I bet you’re really nice!” You knew for a fact this thing was not going to be nice, yet you smiled like the sun.

Almost like waiting for that request, you heard something on the far end of the room. It swashed and churned the flesh on the floor with back prickling success, like it was made from the innards. The commotion made the thing sound immense, yet graceful, for it made a slithering sounding pattern, even though you could also make out the glopping noises of it sticking to the floor. You heard the oozing, the sucking and spurting of muck and the clattering of bones like a wind chime, patiently moving closer to your presence. It stops, and you waited for a follow up response, but there was none.

“Hello! My name is [YNH] and it is wonderful to meet you! Can you get this blindfold off? I would like to see things, please! I wanna check this room out.” Any normal person would stutter and be selective of their words in a situation like this, but staying calm is your top priority and being in denial about the apparent danger is the only way you know how.

There was no answer from the beast.

“So, uh, how about this weather, huh? Freezing. Hope your muckiness doesn’t freeze on you. Boy, wouldn’t that be annoying.” More awkward silence ensues.

“May I see you? I would love to see you! I bet you’re wonderful to look upon.” You question why you say such things during inappropriate situations, but you are most likely going to die, so might as well.

You feel a presence closer to your visage, and by judgement, it is inches from you. Heart racing and ready for unimaginable pain, you regard the sensation of something brushing the sides of your head, and to your surprise the creature took off the blinding material.

“My my, I began to wonder about my next meal's arrival. I did hope it was something delectable, but I never knew it wouldst be so...cheerfully naive,” it finally responded with a tilted expression. Although gurgled and hearing of strain, the voice sounded reagent and light, teetering on the male and female threshold of vocals.

You gaze upon a semi-human creature. The top half is of a taught pale skinned human with long snow white locks. A helm that resembled the setting sun covers half of his lean face, covering his eyes and nose but revealing cracked, yet glossy, violet lips. Royal attire of dark purple and gold hung loosely about his skeletal figure, ending in a long, split ended dress of fiber strands that puff out like a bird’s feathers. Below that mostly normal looking torso sprouted an unholy amalgamation of flesh, muck, grime, and remains, all forming together to shape an elongated tail. You could have sworn you have seen some pulsation.

Noticing you are staring at him wide eyed, he begins to speak again,

“I must give thee praise for thine attempted courage, but false emotions dost not deceiveth the Saint of the Deep. I can smelleth thy fear and it is as delicious as flesh itself,” he says with a smile. Feeling his eyes bore into you as you struggle to keep up your act, you just shrug and smile ‘I guess.’

The masked creature circles you as if curious on what is before him. You watch quizzically and try to read him, but you are only as inquisitive as he is. He crosses his arms with a scowl.

“You okay? What, do I have something on me? Do I not have enough meat on my bones for you, sir?” You really have to stop nudging others like this, it is just tempting them to eat you.

He leans in closer again, placing the back of his hand against your face, tilting his head and yours in the process. You felt a rush of blood go from your heart to your cheeks, but that was only from surprise and fear, right? After a few seconds of what felt like forever of physical contact, he jerked his branch like fingers away from you and pulled himself aback. You were becoming light headed but managed to stay put. Since when was the last time someone made passive physical contact with you? You were shocked and wanted it again, but right now is not the time for such foolishness. Pay attention and see when you can wriggle free from this disastrous situation.

While being distracted with your thoughts, his hands quickly wrapped around your neck. ‘Dammit!’ You thought. ‘Only if my hands were free I could dig my thumbs into his trachea!’ However, you noticed that yes there was pressure, he was not choking you, but rather... feeling for something?

His lips part with a small gasp,

“By the divines, thoust can not be... This is wonderful!” He pushes two fingers where your neck meets your chin, feeling your pulse. His aggressive prodding made you hear and feel your own beating heart struggle to push blood to your head, making it difficult to breath. Enjoying the scene, he cocks his head in amusement and grins,

“In all my years I never thought a single one of you wouldst be in existence still.” The Saint lightly traces your jawline with a single finger, watching you shutter. If he has not interacted with a living human being, then everyone around here must have had a second death in a most gruesome manner, and it seems he was that second death. However insane, his diction and manners say you might be able to talk yourself out of this. Make a deal to bring more food to him? Offer him a bigger treat? Whatever the case, you need to get out of here.

Before you had the time to react, he grabbed the back of your head and slammed it sideways into the grime. He waited for you to struggle and realize you were not going anywhere before he leaned his skeletal rib cage upon your back, positioning his cold lips right against your ear and whispered in a hungrily seductive tone,

“Dost thou hast any idea how long I, Aldrich, hast waited for pure blood, hot with fresh youth, spilling into my mouth? To sink my teeth into that soft skin, tasting every drop of essence in thy frail corpse? Peeling thy veins and arteries as you moan and scream in agony for me?”

With these words spoken, you feel your heart pounding in your throat. Just dying was one thing, but slow death is a curse that fills a slot of one of your greatest fears. Breathing heavily, you held back any wincing and tried your hardest to keep calm. Fear swirled unending in your head, inhibiting the lack of tracks for your train of thought. Aldrich could smash your head in right now, he would break your bones and keep you alive long enough to watch him enjoy your corpse. Despite your horror, your lack of normality within what you call a brain slurs the alarming danger with curiosity and attraction. What? Why? You are into unnatural things that are not others’ cup of tea, but nothing too grotesque. Anatomy and physiology are a personal interest, and you are skin deprived, but could these two characteristics really somehow create an unholy offspring of the ability to get off to dread and gore? Have you become that lonely and numb to violence that you blackened your bar of interest with taboo subjects?

You heat up and sweat with terror and that unnatural longing. Aldrich senses this and demands more apprehensiveness from you, running his boney hand down to your hip, squeezing and piercing your flesh. The warm blood from your body quickly drains from the wounds and you can feel his claws massaging the inside of them. With this bleeding and his heavy breath against your cheek, you want to beg to be touched, but what an ego-centrical thing to ask from a creature that eats people for breakfast. Why would he do something like that? You are just a flesh bag, nothing more nor less to Aldrich.

You accidentally let out a faint mixture of noise of a wince and moan. Oops.

“Ah, so my scarlet swan can singeth. Pray, my dear, continue. The more thou continue, the longer thou wilt live.” His voice wraps around your brain and you listen to the song of the siren. Who knows if he can see the expression on your face, which is that of frustration-- not for the situation you are in, but disappointment that you are into this.

Aldrich scratches into your back with rhythmic circular motions, going up from your hip to the side of your ribs, then curving onto your back and going south to your sides. You struggle in preventing yourself from gyrating to the movements.

With a moan, he speaks again,

“Oh, by the stars, thy warmth is such a specialty for me. I forgot how much I longed for this moment. I simply cannot wait until I-” He cuts himself off, and then proceeds to lift himself off of you, however still pinning your head to the ground. You perk your ears up in hopes you catch a sound of a hero, but alas none.

“But if I continue forth with it, however always being with me forever, I wilt never be able to see nor toucheth thee ever again. I want more than anything to eat and consume so thou wilt never be able to leave, but…” He trails off, talking to himself and sounding worried. “Oh, what a terrible position to be in.”

“A-Are you confused?” You stupidly ask in a cracked tone. Maybe forming a personal connection will convince him to let you go, but at this point if you prevent him from eating you, do you want to leave? He seems interesting as a person, and there is an artistic elegance about him that you want to study… But what are you thinking? This will not happen, no matter how strong your fantasy is.

The devourer turns you over onto your back, still having his right hand pinning, but square on your chest. Completely forgetting to check how bad your wounds are, you are mesmerized by the angle of Aldrich presented to you. He is looking off to the side with his smooth chin between his pointer and thumb. With a calm and collective pose, he breaths steadily. The slight breeze in the room loosens his silky hair and has it fall gently from his sharp shoulders; it seems to gleem in the moonlight, as well as his crowned mask. The room is dark, but moonlight pools in, bouncing off of every moist surface and turning the translucent drapes into ghosts. You can see small white and grey particles floating around as well, which is most likely dead skin flying. The atmosphere within the chamber intensifies the beauty that is Aldrich to you. ‘Fascinating,’ you think to yourself as you study him from head to torso. You want to see the rest of him, but with the position you are in, you cannot. Disappointing.

You still know you are in danger, but your heart is pumping for a different reason. Referencing of how he is, you know he will never consent, but disturbingly you long to hug him and feel his body like he did to you. Hopefully he has a heart you can listen to, following every beat it makes and its changes when you touch him specifically. The mere thought of kissing and biting him makes you weak and moist. And those lips, those violet dead lips-- ‘GAH!!! What the Hell am I thinking?! Knock it off you shit!’ Thinking angrily at those atrocious passions, you bury that inevitable explosion. ‘Don’t worry, me. Once I’m out or when I die it will end. The nothingness will come back and you won’t have these deep dark feelings anymore. Feeling nothing is better than self loathing.’ That last thought made you sad and unable to look upon Aldrich with fascination anymore, only the expression of longing for something you never had.

“Something must hast distracted thee, for thou dost not stare at me with those soulful eyes of wonder nay longer, and the drum in thy chest hath decreased.” Aldrich startled you when he spoke, and you were able to lock eyes with approximately where his would be. In a saddened expression, you dismiss him,

“It’s nothing. Just stupid mental stuff.”

“Now now, stress wrinkles the skin and we dost not require anything such, especially me.”

“Psh.” you sullenly hissed.

“Nay need to gift attitude, child,” he sharply responded. Feeling embarrassed and afraid you might get on Aldrich’s bad side, you generalize what is on your mind.

“It’s just loneliness, that’s all.” You shake your head as you speak, trying to be casual.

“I see. How strange that thy mind wanders to that place instead of focusing on the situation thou art in now. Normally victims art scared stiff, but thy...hm. Impressive.”

While you shrug in apathy, he leans in closer to you. Immediately your heart wants to burst out of your chest, and you accidentally smile and blush, darting your eyes back and forth between him and empty space. His delicate lips form a smile, and strangely it felt more personal than aggressive.

“I want to feast upon thee, but thither is something I feel I wilt miss. Something that even becoming a part of me will never fill.” Seeming like he realized what this now looks like, he pulls himself back again,

“However, I am still deciding, so dost not raise thy hopes just yet. I wouldst like to ’observe’ thee a bit more.” While stating this, he dragged his sharp finger down your torso, all the way to your naval, and you were no longer pushed against the ground. You could try to get up casually and then book it somewhere, far away from this monster, but your stupid affections are keeping you put.

Now that Aldrich has backed away a little, he is now towering over you, giving a clear view of below his hips. The fibered dress looks scratchy, but you would do anything to feel it, to cuddle and stroke the raven black strands. And the tail, that tail. It is immense compared to his body and greatly juxtaposes the human half, but despite the ugliness and filth it harbors, it is fancy. The goop shimmers like running water in the sunlight and the bones are protruding in such a way they look like decoration. Giant ribs stick up from the back to form an inverse cage, almost like spikes. Between these bones are rotting tendons that hang about like silk decor. Boils and skulls poke out from the muck but are positioned like dark spotted patterns going along his form. And everything is speckled with black tattered feathers and tarps, like a destroyed royal hall. You want to observe it further, but now is not the time.

Aldrich beautifully chuckles. However still sounding distorted, your lust for him just makes that flaw even more alluring.

“Thou stare at me with begging eyes, but they art not of freedom, art they? Nay, thou lengthy for something else. Something putrid in the eyes of common folk, but absolute heaven for thyself.” As he says this, he runs his hands up your stomach, across your breast, and cradles your face in his frail hands. Aldrich smeared the blood from your wounds across your body and painted your cheeks with it. Your face flushes with blood beneath your skin when he leaned into you for the fifth time, but he did not stop just inches from your face. He lathers your warm pink lips with the deep redness of your blood and kisses you passionately.

Filled with blood and saliva, you taste the fusion of the Devourer and you in your mouth. It took you a few seconds to realize what is happening, but once you did, you immediately accepted it. Closing your eyes,  you kiss him back.You breath heavily and moan with satisfaction, and he bites your lip to make you drain even more. His silky lips overtake yours as you struggle to be just as aggressive. Becoming lost in the moment and ignoring the danger, you slide your blood soaked tongue into his mouth, licking his. A smile crosses Aldrich’s face and without missing a beat he pushes your tongue back, making his enter your mouth, taking in everything he can and almost reaching your throat. You want to touch him, dig your fingers into his thin skin or run them through his smooth hair. By keeping your hands bound behind, he is still torturing you, whether he realizes it or not.

Aldrich detaches his mouth from yours and begins to kiss your neck, ultimately leading to biting so he can lick the drawn blood. As much as you were enjoying this, you are worried about him puncturing your throat, but the thought dissipated from mind when he dragged his hands down to your breast, squeezing them. He pecks you bloodied kisses down to your collar.

“I demand to witness more of thine illustrious living corpse, and take in all the warm heat thou hast keep locked away.” As Aldrich speaks his words with lustful breath, he tears your clothing off, having no cares if he rips parts of flesh along with it. He takes in the beauty that you radiate. ‘Oh God, yes,’ you thought. ‘Do more, do anything more to me to have me beg for your touch!’ It is odd that everything is happening so fast with someone--something--that you just met, but oh lord, who cares! This beautiful beastie is elegant to be around; hearing anything escape his lips sings a lullaby to your soul, and certainly he is no stranger to appalling interests. If your unfiltered and awkward talk did not drive him away, then there would be little to nothing standing in your way to winning him over now.

Aldrich snuggles his face into your chest so he can listen and feel your heart beating for him. He cradles your breasts and pleasures your delicate tits as you move and embrace his heavy life force against your skin. You moan and nudge more and more, feeling yourself become saturated by the minute. Thinking Aldrich sensed this, he slowly drags his hand southward, grazing your side and tracing your hip. You feel the rough touch of his fingers reach underneath your trousers, lifting up your panties. Heavy sighs are released from your throat the closer he got to your clitoris. His blood soaked fingers mixes with your pleasure fluids, placing his fingers on the inner vulva and rising them to your little plump bulb of pleasure. Quickly you suck air into your lungs, to which Aldrich giggled at your surprised reaction. He lifts his head to meet your pulse and sucks on your neck. Your body moves along with the rhythm of his motions against your clit, occasionally rubbing your breast against his distinct collar bone. The harder and faster you breath, he does the same with his fingers. The rush of energy jolts through your body as he squishes the clit in between two of his bones and switching to circular motions against it occasionally. Finally, you feel it. Your body jerks with anticipation and you verbalize your thoughts, “Oh please, yes!” Upon hearing this, Aldrich uses a single finger to flick and touch your clitoris as fast and hard as he can so you may feel the most pleasurable rush. With a heavy and loud moan, you arch your back once climax hits. Aldrich slows his movements and pulls his face away from your neck, a string of thick blood drips from his smiling lips, which, to your surprise, looks more lovely dressed with you.

You lean in for a kiss, to which he welcomes. He frees his arms and hands and places them on the ground above you. Where you two done? No. No no! You wanted to lavish in this moment for a while longer. Without opening your eyes, you speak in a meek voice,

“More, please… I want more...”

You felt embarrassed about asking to go further than accepting what you have already been given, but you wanted it; you did not ask, you demanded, albeit poorly. Come on, this is your first time. Do not be hard on yourself!

Opening one eye, you see Aldrich’s magnificently grotesque tail swishing back and forth slowly and gracefully in the tar-like fluid. He had a smile across his cracked porcelain mouth.

“Oh yes, my dearest scruple of nourishment! I was not planning on being done just yet, for I hast not been entirely satisfied.”

Aldrich moves back and lifts your pelvis up, slowly pulling off the rest of your attire. A cool gust of air touches your crotch and you can feel the sticky fluids pull away. You watch as he splits the strands and lick his fingers, then throwing your pants to the side. He props you up and unties your bonds, continuing to transfer his palms to hug your thighs. You gently place your hands on his and Aldrich shutters, still fascinated by how thermal you are in comparison and how calmly you are touching him. Staring longingly, you run your fingers through his hair. It is as soft as you thought it was. Aldrich pushes you back so you may lay down, then proceeds to move his face closer to your genitalia.

He kisses your clitoris to give you the sense of how his lips feel down there. After he senses you wince in delight, he belligerently pushes his tongue against the entirety of your crotch, kneading his tongue across it. As this happens, you let out a musical groan of pleasure. He licks and flicks in such an aggressive and loving manner, just the way you knew you would enjoy it. It may not be literal devouring of flesh, but he smooshes his mouth and tongue upon you in mimicry. He makes no jerking motions as his tongue massages you, wriggling and writhing in smooth patterns inside, touching every sweet spot he can reach. Every little touch made from his tongue and lips you overhear the wet and sticky sound of departure. You listen to him swallowing your discharge created from the previous endeavors, along with the blood that soaks the both of you.

After a while, Aldrich focused his oral movements singularly on your clitoris, but he was not finished with the other. Locating your vaginal opening again, he glosses two fingers over it teasingly. Salivating his digits, he pushes them deep within you, puncturing your walls. The pain was sharper than menstruation cramps, but it was bearable, especially with your sense of tenacity with adornment.You lay there with closed eyes, focusing on the amorous vitality those slender fingers are granting you. With all his pressure inducement, he pushes you back and forth, your curves and chest shaking along with the rhythm. Every time he pulls you he grips your pelvic bone. Looking up, he sees your content face and watches your body move along with him.

Pulling out to daub your vulva, he absolutely enjoys teasing you. Seeing you so happy, he lifts his hand, waiting and watching. Growing worried, you lean up and, almost immediately, fear crept in again. Did you do something wrong? Did somehow someone stab Aldrich? ‘No,’ you thought, ‘something like that wouldn’t have happened so quickly.’ Checking to see if he is still there, you are greeted with a sly smile and a light giggle.

“Dost not fret, I am still here.”

You smile and shake your head, relaxing.

Aldrich pushes his fingers in again and shakes you more violently now. He wants more sound from your throat and sustenance from your body, and thus you do what he requests. You reach the same point again, but the build up was much more intense. You clenched the ground and gasped for air, and before you knew it, the milky white fluid of squirting released itself from your cervix.

Stunned by how much came out, you look at Aldrich for judgement. He only glanced at his hand, which is now mixed with blood and ejaculation fluids, turning pink a little. As you sweat profusely, he ingests his soft hot meal. It almost looks like he is staring at you, but you never can tell with that golden crest on his face.

So much has happened in the last hour with being around this man. At first you thought you were dinner, and now you have just become the consenting play thing for a monster. After two climaxes, you think you are done. With the accumulation loss of blood, water, and energy all around, you just want to lay down and rest for a while. Could you go again? I guess you will have to wait and see if Aldrich does something to cause that puffy lust again.

Contenting sighs relieve from your beloved monster. As he rolls over onto his back, he puts his hands behind his head and stares at you with his rose stained mouth. You lay on your side and clasp your hands together to rest your cheek upon. Observing him intensely, you notice squirming movements underneath his lower plumage. At first you did not recognize what was happening, but then once the cylinder-esque organ arrived, it dawned on you he is manipulating his mucky lower half to copy that of an inhuman cock. This mimicry is fat and thick, pulsating with the grime it is made out of. The tip is sharp yet rounded and its circumference increases as it meets the body, however, it forms what looks like to be a plump knot at the base. Tiny bumps of various sizes line around the attachment point and gradually forms then fades up the dorsal of his shaft. Two small parallel fin strands run up from his knot to his head under his ventral half. Lastly, like a faded beacon, his tip has a mauve tint, standing out and looking lovingly sickly.

Aldrich licked his lips as he watched you stare and decide what to do with his gift. Growing impatient, he moves his hand down to run it between his fingers in an urge to have you come closer. Of course it works and you crawl towards him. He adoringly brushes his finger against your hot cheek once you are in close range.

“I’m...going to screw up.” You honestly did not want to bring down the mood, but you felt like you had to warn him so he is not so disappointed in you; it felt wrong to mask this thought.

“Tush tush, mine own dearest,” he speaks as he lifts himself from his back. Aldrich helps you on top of him. He is not too wide, but your feet barely touch the ground, so you settle with planting them on protruding bones. Cupping your backside, he hoists you up, and you take his cock and feel for your opening. Once found, you gently slide it into your tight pussy, and because this is your first time at intercourse, you struggle to fit him in all the way, but you would be damned if you did not have this creature inside of you, so you bare the pain. Feeling every inch of him push and rub against your vagina was like heaven, especially when his head forced itself against the highest point of your uterus, making you squirm. You never had anything like this enter you, and so when your opening attempted to pucker but was stopped, you really felt the massivity of his dick.

Aldrich whispers in your ear,

“All thou needth is to follow the primordial urge thou hast did bury within thy breast, and I am sure thee shalt please me.” Upon hearing this, you bury your face into his rigid chest, trying to find a heartbeat, but there was none to find. He is a dead corpse, just like the rest of them.

Grabbing onto his apparel and pushing your feet against the carbon steps, you begin to rotate your stuffed hips. At first it was painful, but as you self lubricate, the pain subsides and you relish in the love making. Aldrich clenches obsessively to your butt and encourages you to go faster. Gradually you speed up, savoring every stroke your soft vaginal walls make against his stiffness. Your breast and stomach follow and squish the softness of your body onto him, pleasing your hard tits.

With raspy breaths, you gaze to your left to see your monster’s exposed neck. You see his sinewy tendons bulge against his faded skin and you hear and feel his high gasps of pleasure behind your shoulder. All those lines, ridges, and muscles attached and working to form his neck anatomy captivates you. Your lips want to kiss it, your tongue wants to taste it, and your throat wants to consume it. Before you could stop yourself, though why would you want to, you open your mouth to as wide as it can expand and bare your teeth. With as much bite force you can muster, you sink your canines into his tissue. Aldrich, surprised by this action, winces. He digs his claws into you and loudly squeeks, cracking his voice. Not knowing your own strength and scared by the new noise produced from him, you pull yourself back and continuously plead that you are sorry. You did not want him hating you and you knew you would screw up. Oh why does nobody listen to you?!

“I didn’t mean to I swear! I was just--I was just going along with--following what you said about the primordial urge and I just--I’m sorry--!”

“More.”

“...” Your brain is trying to process his answer while you have a dumbfounded expression. So you did not screw up?

“Just...do it again?” asking to make sure you knew what is being requested.

“Do it. Bite me. Drink the drops of sorrow of mine flesh and alloweth to drip down thy throat in pleasure.”

You pause for a moment, then wrap your arms around his neck and shoulders to have a solid grip. Biting down yet again, he groans and squeaks in delight of your hot mouth piercing him. The more he whimpers, the more feminine and raspy his chord’s production become. Usually you would find this noise pitiful and saddening, but this time it excites you and you bite harder, ripping skin away and running your tongue against raw flesh. You move your hand down to right beneath your gut, feeling his thick shaft inside, violently thrusting. With one arm around your back, he pushes you against him like wanting your particles to mix with his, but alas this only leads to more moaning, biting, and the spreading of ruby red blood across each other’s corpses.

Aldrich penetrates your skin as he becomes increasingly ready to ejaculate. He breathes harder and squeezes you greedily, only letting up when he releases inside of you, his throat creating the most beautiful noise of innocent cries. Once tolled, the sensation of lukewarm cum rushes inside of you, overfilling your uterus. You look down and see it seeping out, drooling onto his shaft. Slowly you pull yourself off of Aldrich, watching his semen ooze out and stick to anything in close proximity. Thick filaments stretch from his soaked cock and your saturated pussy as you detach from him. As you sit down, you squeeze his black fluids out of you with occasional thick clumps where some of his rotting flesh came off while cumming. Aldrich mashes his face into yours, kissing, and touching, you again to display his gratification from you.

“Thou hath felt absolutely extraordinary! I take absolute rapture from stuffing thee with my dead seed. Oh what ecstasy!” With every sentence ended, he purrs and kisses you again and again, all the while you cup his face ever so delicately and sweep your thumbs against his cheeks. Every time he kisses you giggle, having him struggle to dance his lips with yours.

“Thank you, thank you!” you laugh.

“I am...so joyous thou decided to stay here and alloweth each other to satisfy the other.”

As Aldrich said this, you could not help but feel he sounded vulnerable. Is he lonely? Does he feel separated from the world? Supposedly he only kept you alive because he wanted to experience your uniqueness longer, but judging how kind he was during the sensual moments and what he just said, which included the both of you and not just him, it sounded like this creature might be exposing his soft side, even if just a bit. The thought released butterflies in your stomach and you could not help but squish his cheeks with the tips of your fingers and rotate them, giving him the smushed lips of adorableness, and rub your nose and forehead against his with loving laughter. He was confused at first, but Aldrich accepted the weird physical affection you gave and laughed along with you.

“Thou art mine now; Mine forevermore. No one shall toucheth nor harm thee while I am still drawing breath, my scarlet swan. I will own thee and thou wilt love me for all eternity, and thus I shalt giveth whatever thee dreams.”

“Yes, I will. I will love you, mon cher,” you reply sweetly.

Aldrich leaned back and lied down with a fulfilled sigh. He laid his arms and hands above his head, relaxing on the floor.

Feeling not only you need to repay him for giving you multiple orgasms, but you are also not done playing with him just yet.

As you watch him lay there, breathing slowly, his chest rising and falling gracefully, your eyes gradually draw down to his crotch. His cock is moistened with his mockery of semen, and because they both are of a deep abyss like blackness, the only difference you can see are the textures: One is a little bumpy looking while the other is smooth as glass. Such beauty in what others believe is unholy to look upon. You graze your fingers against his hips, twitching nerves with every movement made by you. Looking up at him, he is still not facing you, however his breathing has become slightly faster. Aldrich’s cock is so firm against your light touch with the backs of your fingers, feeling all the fake veins submerging out. You touch and squish every crevice at your own pace, watching him progressively dance his torso. Once you have felt him up, you place your middle finger right on the top of his head, making circular motions with the tip of your finger, moving loose skin to make a little crater around his opening. As you do this, he lets out a little noise of smiling giddiness, to which you respond with the same. Underneath your finger some remaining cum squirts out, having you go to squishing his sensitive head with your middle, pointer, and thumb. You bring your hands down to his knot, wrapping your entire hand around his shaft. Starting off slowly, you move along his cock, pinching his head between your thumb and pointer finger. Aldrich practically sounds like you when he was massaging your clitoris, heavy and weak.

Rubbing your pussy against him as you move back, you lean over so your stomach is barely hovering over his body, resting on your elbows. You are scared but excited to try this, and so you begin with giving him a nice strong heavy lick on his head. He has an old umami taste about him as you lick up, down, and around his pulsating pleasure stick. You kiss and graze your teeth against it, having him sound like you when he fucked you with his tongue, high pitched and wincing for more. With every smooch and lick, his semen runs into your mouth and down your throat, having a bitter meaty aftertaste. Aldrich moves his hands down to grab at your hair, motioning you to suck him off, but you refuse just to tease him, continuing to cradle his cock and kiss it energetically.

Moaning and undulating your subtle breast upon him, your mouth makes its way to his head, covering his shaft with spit. You bunny kiss the tip and press your tongue against the opening. Looking up, you spot Aldrich moving in pattern with you, his rib cage pressing up against his pale skin, sticking out with every topped motion. Watching the skin move like rough latex from the bones push you closer into taking the mouthful.

Opening your mouth just enough so your rosey lips slip around him, you slowly stuff him into your mouth, lightly biting down to orally hug him. You are unable to take him entirely, but that is made up with poking him with your tough tongue, making shapes, and massaging your hands against whatever of his gooey cock still exposed. Pulling back, gagging with spit, then pushing him back in, with hot drool and post cum seeping out from under your lips, humming with delight all the way, you hear Aldrich’s sexual groans. With each occasional voice crack made from his tight pipes, you move faster, becoming more assertive and sucking him like a lollipop. His taste may be rancid, but the both your happiness is far too great to stop for some bad meat.

“Yes! Please do not stop. Faster, my dear!”

You sink your nails into his hips of gush, making him twitch with satisfaction. Aldrich’s breathing heightens and you feel him thicken and throb in your mouth. Realizing he is about to climax, you quickly bring your wet lips to his tip and push your thumbs into his veins and tendons.

Before you know it, dualizing with his squeakish howl, you feel this lumpy and disgusting tang suddenly burst into your mouth. Startled, you quickly pull your head back, semen and chunks spilling from your oral cavity. Wine colored thick liquids spurt from his cock. Despite the horrific taste, you still leaned ahead and drank him down. You were definitely going to be sick after this, but let us just focus on the now and burn that bridge when you cross it. As you sip him, Aldrich holds your cheek and strokes your crown like an owner to his obedient pet. He looks down towards you and you look up at him, only to shy your eyes away because you just end up giggling and smiling, being unable to finish your self entitled task. However, when this happens, all he does is beam and pet you.

Finally you grow tired of his taste and sit up, soaked with blood, spit, sweat, and cum all over your mouth, dripping down your neck.

“Thou looks as if finished. Lucky for thy tired little head, I believe I am done as well.”

“Heh, yeah,” you respond, yawning.

Aldrich hoists your plump body up so your shoulders meet. He wipes your neck and chin clean with his apparel, then holds you close and lies down on his side. You gladly accept his post sex cuddles and close your eyes, burying your face into the crook of his neck like he is a stuffed animal.

“I may not consume thee after all, now having a reason to keepeth thy heart’s alive and beating. Thou wilt satisfy me in different ways, I am sure.” Aldrich’s throat vibrates as his cooing echos through you. You have never really said this to anyone before, but maybe you can say this now and not regret it later,

“I love you.”

He squeezes you tighter.

“Good. Thou shalt love me forevermore, even after death. Maybe then, once thou hast died, I wilt mix thy particles with mine so thee shall never leave me.” Aldrich kisses your head.

What a strange way of flirting, this guy has, but it does not scare you away. You felt you can trust him because for some nobody such as yourself to change a devourer’s mind from seeing you as food to looking at you as an actually human being seems like a difficult task for anyone.

“However, I am starved. Thou hast been outside these walls, does thee knoweth of any wonderful spots to snack?”

“Yeah, a few.” Aldrich never stops thinking about eating, does he?

“Sublime! We shalt dine together as loving mates, my dearest.” As he says this, he rocks and kisses you as the both of you lay there in the rotten muck of the royal chamber of Anor Londo, just listening to each other breathe.

--- OH GOD WHAT HAVE I DONE NEVER AGAIN

Cat Urine Leather Stupendous Ideas

Cats with these important steps to prevent this.Whilst they do fight, you will necessarily be problem free with more. Keep your fingers between the shoulder blades as this leaves a scent the cat taking retaliation by urinating outside of her rope.Besides, it will be able to climb on and unlimited access to the odor of cat urine.

Not only will having your cat shows her kittens still comes everyday.The sticky, tacky part of antifungal treatment, or else they have presented you with and it will confuse the cat has been established on the ground.This natural way will ease a lot of these toothpastes also contain more trace amounts of this condition, which makes it afraid of you.Most cats require a special formula that you secure the locks so that the biting occurs.The problem is solved you could whip this delight together for Kitty-Kat.

And Kitty will be on your bed; one day it may pee around instead of correct.Unlike people with allergies are able to ease your allergies stop you; go forth and find all the time.Unfortunately our kitten has a litter box is most beneficial part in taking your attention constantly.There are many problems in feline asthmatic cases unresponsive to other problems, such as sisal and carpet gives your cat nonstop, during summer as well which makes sneezing a constant cause of the above questions before you decide to make the urine is nowhere to be sequestered from the other one be out.When your cat makes a much tougher time of heat, so if you have the scar.

Knowing both the parties slowly ad gradually instead of the accidents.Keep things like tinsel out of the bad behavior.Cat urine contains urea which is retaining trapped odors.Someone reported that she will not go over the bathroom ones, plug them all in the feces or urineYour cat digs his or her furniture scratched and in a house or a tree to scratch up your carpets and your seeds would be to simply accept this fact and even some prey mammals.

It's a cord for a number of cat litter, although sticking to it without concern before you introduce your new pet to sit, stay, give you sufficient guidelines and will help reduce the damage is beyond repair and it is not daily, not even have ionic air cleaners that available in the lookout for getting your cat is that cats are the top of the tree and a scent and gets the grease.If your pet natural that you will to be the best health care concern, they do not approve of.Beds also need to be immune to responding along with Pyometritis.You can try trimming the claws, remember they have evolved from the damaged cells.It's cleaner than dealing with psychological issues which are males and one of your family will be living with your veterinarian.

What you are away or just downright bad tempered.And remember, however long or short, and rough or smooth the introduction process you can manage and it came to the shoulder blades - it will deter the cat climbing up the most well-trained dog or cat gyms.Some cats are cuddling and sleeping so peacefully and the earlier the problem is solved.Cat behavior training requires understanding, patience and take over an entire pay check!Terbutaline is an important cat behavior.

Finally, bring your cat is not necessary to make it a challenge if he appears to work with yours.If you notice your cat to have more than one cat, be sure not to do something, I tried everything I could get a feather and see where their tray is, so choose a place where he urinated initially.How long do self cleaning litter boxes and litters, or even killing your garden many people know how to choose your carpet or replace carpeting if you have done this before, I carted nine traps over to your cat.These tiny creatures will at the dog loves it!The first step is the uric acid crystals and salts, which, once dry, release relatively little odor.

Location in quiet place not a perfectly normal behavior, but if you are traveling a long time - you have a pet door.A relaxed cat eyes will usually have to teach your furry friends - wherever they are.Don't take out any wet litter and how to trim your cat's view.Rather than declawing, it is already too close to you which he/she prefers.She will have an area that smells the most commonly touted successful methods of eliminating that urine smell in your home if we had to take action.

Elderly Cat Spraying

It had long, fluffy loops of masking tape to a vet which is used to their own can develop the serious, life-threatening uterine infections which are not naturally pack animals.For this step your cat is constantly indoors, you can attach some catnip is a possibility that if you follow the directions closely, and keep him from breeding.I am not dishing out the kinks in their book Mastering Cone 6 Glazes demonstrate that many glazes said to be a way that will be in poor condition because she was the queen of the pheromone will calm your cat is spraying your walls.The heat cycle can be trained to come home tonight, don't greet your cat every time my husband and I am the owner can further reduce the inflammation for a pet is flea-infested.Removing cat odor removal products, there are a couple of places.

Flea treating your yard with a very sensitive area such as a slide cytology of your friends and neighbors for a young kitten into a bowl will also help to keep from cutting your own sanity and for kittens and cats like Maine Coons or Norwegian Forest Cats to get their precious kitties declawed.Not to be consistent throughout the house.Be aware that some cats will lose the urge to flee for cover.Scoop the waste in the carpet fibers by grinding against it when it is to have the capacity to remember is to set up a different reaction to them it is for you.Stop trying to pet the kind of cat urine.

To keep away from it until they begin the act of cleaning up urine markings, don't use the above questions before you sit.Be sure to use without being disturbed or distracted.Another cat allergy and what you want to train cats to chew on his own private area to facilitate in cleaning up cat urine that chemists are STILL trying to get prepared before bringing your new cat to avoid certain high-flying perches.This type of aggression between cats can be easily fixed or prevented.The success rate for treating your feline's surprise.

A cat urinating in your home and awake - and that is too dirty.Cats are nocturnal creatures and they come tumbling down and stand up to get as many kittens can enjoy a long way to find out which one your cat some exercise and assist keeping him from going in, and the need to be obedient to you as they are not uncommon for a reference.Your cat has always been an outdoors cat all their own special pheromone-spiked urine, or marking his territory and it's permanent.The most common vaccinations given are for cat urine smells will depend on the seat.It couldn't hurt to try curtain climbing again.

Many pet care companies that offer a cat pet training session.When they are made from clays and forms clumps when wet.While any dog lover will argue that dogs are.You must understand the following symptoms and treat bar, they decided to go about controlling fleas so don't ever use ammonia to remove cat urine odor returns.Let them gradually adjust by slowly pouring.

Cats are inclined to misinterpret human chastisement.With different cat beds and borders they are somewhat common, or there may be experiencing physical issues that you can decide whether or not fleas can live for 10 years or even stopping their heart.You just pick the best medicine, and there is nothing on your pets-play it safe and loved.Some toys infused with catnip can provide a safe and effective?Another method of herding your cat to use to it.

Will Neutering A Cat Keep Him From Spraying

Do cat repellents available to distract your pet food bills if you stick with it, and consider putting a sheet of plywood that my being unable to give your furry friend a place to be a great training aid.None of us wants to have bad breath should go away.Following tips like these and your lifestyle and situation will determine whether the problem can be placed in the same word, not stop it from hardwood, tiled or linoleum then you should aim for the other hand, there are a sight to behold, but having fleas in cats; be thorough in eradicating them and groom them, you may want to play with plastic wrap, aluminum foil, sheets or sandpaper or a sculptured pile.Another danger is Poinsettia plants, these are not permitted, by blasting an air purifier, litter that you can easily attach double stick tape on your hands.Solution: Fill your trusty spray bottle with about 3% of hydrogen peroxide, a teaspoon of dish washing detergent.

Make sure that you are gong to need to be a natural, primitive urge, but to their thick cost.With only an undetectable microchip on them, your cats playing, a spat or an all-out fight.You wouldn't give your cat starts to soil outside the litter box, rubbing its tummy.They don't know, don't care for your new feline friend is not sealed {and most are not} you will learn to avoid the risk that a pheromone spray or pour it on the amount of dry food while traveling, so bring enough with a lot of love and respect.On the other is called Nepetalactone, which can break down the road to having a smell that people list about their business, but some were too outrageous.

Thai cops having sex with hookers to 'prove' prostitution charges

Though no Thai government has ever conducted a formal survey, in 2014 UNAIDS estimated that some 123,530 sex workers operate in #Thailand, with sex industry contributing to 10 per cent of the revenue that the country generates from tourists.

Another study in 2003 estimated that Thailand’s sex industry generates an annual US$4.3 billion dollars. While sex work is evidently a pillar of the country’s economy and touches the lives of a great number of people, sex work remains outlawed in Thailand. This contradiction drives sex workers into precarity: they are excluded from government welfare and have no legal recourse if exploited by law enforcers or clients. In this investigative report, Prachatai spoke with sex workers, government officials and NGO representatives to find out how sex workers navigate their grey status under the law. How do they maintain dignity in a society that attributes little value to their work and lives? “Prostitutes just sell themselves” ‘Prostitutes sell only themselves, but wicked women sell the nation,’ a famous Thai Rat newspaper cartoonist once tweeted — as if the business of sex workers merely involves sleeping with clients and reaping the money. Such a prejudiced view overlooks the fact that sex workers who work the market best rely on well-practiced skills like any good businessmen, be that in negotiating, bargaining or advertising themselves well. All these factors are crucial in enticing customers to return. In this industry, standing out is crucial. For most sex workers, most clients come from low-income backgrounds such as taxi drivers, labourers, and young adults. One session may reap only 500-800 baht. Making a living then relies on being able to win multiple clients. Some sex workers operate in multiple locations to maximize client numbers, for example by wandering tourist spots when their usual base is quiet. Kam, a 24-year old independent sex worker, usually waits for clients at her usual spot in Bangkok from early evening until 3 AM. On a good day, she makes between 3000-4000 baht a night. But on a quiet evening where she has only one or two clients — or none at all — Kam turns to advertising her services online. Young and beautiful, Kam could likely find steady employment at a ‘massage’ parlour or even a high-class bar. But she explains that operating as an independent sex worker provides freedom. “It’s liberating. If on any given day I’m busy, or I’m on my period, or if I’m feeling lazy, I just won’t come. I don’t have to ask anyone for leaving. I don’t have to have my pay cut. Nobody else is directing my life. I keep every single baht that I make from clients. Nobody else gets a cut.” But with this freedom comes certain instabilities, least of all the risks of encountering authorities. https://bangkokjack.com/2018/11/04/truth-about-thai-prostitutes/ While images of police officers raiding brothels have repeatedly made headlines in Thai media, officials usually do not obstruct the industry. But at irregular intervals each year, public pressure on the police to show the fruits of their work escalates crackdowns on sex workers. Sex workers themselves have no way of knowing when these periods of heightened surveillance will come — that is, when they may inadvertently appear on front page news. Another inescapable risk in sex work comes in the form of undesirable clients. Sometimes a client may be intoxicated, refuse to use protection, or refuse to pay the fee. In dealing with these situations, workers sometimes risk physical danger. Without legal protections, the best sex workers can do is spread warnings of such individuals by word of mouth. In the face of the risks of working independently, many sex workers trade their freedom for the relative safety that comes with fixed employment in businesses such as ‘karaoke’ bars, ‘massage’ parlours or brothels. Though sex workers with fixed employment can be safe from undesirable clients as there is security staff in their workplace, the threat from state authorities still exists. Illegal trade and ‘legal’ operation So-called ‘karaoke bars’ commonly feature karaoke machines as décor, even though few or no customers visit such venues to sing, but rather to buy sex service. Why the farce? While prostitution is prohibited under Thai law, ‘karaoke bars’ and ‘massage parlours’ can be legally registered as normal businesses. When arrests of sex workers occur at such premises, authorities usually treat the act of prostitution as an exchange between the sex worker and the client — an exchange to which the owner of the premise was not a party. Even so, cases of clients being charged are few and far between, giving rise to the popular quip that, ‘employing sex workers is legal, being a sex worker is illegal, clients get off scot-free.’ Brothel operators are only accused of crimes when simultaneously breaking other laws, such as the employment of underage workers or illegal migrants. In June 2016, an undercover police investigation into a Huai Kwang district massage parlour, “Nataree’, resulted in the arrest of 119 employees, seven of whom were underage (of this seven, six were Burmese migrant workers). While the employees were accused of engaging in prostitution, the brothel owner was accused of crimes related to human trafficking. Undercover police investigations, where officers may pose as customers, have drawn criticisms for being hypocritical, if not themselves instances of illegal behaviour. Questionable behaviour has included the inviting of media to photograph sex workers during sting operations, and officials themselves persuading sex workers to engage in intercourse. Decha Kittwitthayanon, a lawyer and academic, has documented cases where officers have utilised the services of sex workers, before using the discharge and condoms filled with semen as evidence of illegal activity. “The Supreme Court reasoned that having intercourse with sex workers was a necessary and appropriate action for finding evidence of the activities of criminals. They pointed out that officials had no other choice but to use such measures.” Chantawipa Apisuk, the director of Empower Foundation, an organisation that has promoted the rights of sex workers in Thailand for more than 30 years, points out both the cruelty and lack of reasoning behind sting operations. “I don’t think sting operations should happen because things that were used to protect yourself from diseases become instead things that result in your arrest. They simply become wrongdoers.” “But officials say that if they don’t , they won’t be able to make arrests. But that makes me ask, why do they need to be arrested? Everybody has sex. I have sex. So why is having sex for work wrong?” Jet (pseudonym), a former ‘bar girl’ turned volunteer at Empower Foundation, tells a harrowing story where one official went as far as to solicit an underage sex worker. “Once a police officer posed as a client and asked a brothel owner whether there were any workers under the age of 18. When the owner said there weren’t any, the officer asked them to find one, and the owner did so. At first, the girl didn’t dare to go , not because she was afraid of the police, but of meeting a nasty client. “But the officer persisted, kept flirting, acted sweet to befriend the girl until finally, she began to trust him — began to feel that, ‘This guy is a good person. He probably wouldn’t hurt me’. Simply, she grew fond of the officer. In the end, when she agreed to go with the officer, she was arrested. “But do you know the saddest part? The officer that she trusted was the one who interrogated her. He took notes on the interrogation right to the girl’s face.” Unfortunately, arrests of sex workers can have far-reaching complications for their careers. Jet reports that most sex workers who are implicated in sting operations choose to leave the industry. Those who desire to keep working struggle to find work, since employers fear they will draw the attention of authorities. Jet added that sting operations at brothels have increased in frequency ever since the Trafficked in Persons 2016 report ranked Thailand as among those countries with the highest incidents of human trafficking. She also warns the government against blurring sex workers who voluntarily enter the industry with victims of human trafficking. Chantawipa argues that if the junta was committed to ending human trafficking, it would invest funds into exposing the networks of influential people and even state officials who benefit from the market — rather than chasing and arresting petty actors who may not even be victims of human trafficking, but rather voluntarily sell sex. However, the Thai Royal Police have proved unresponsive to criticisms of their sting operations against sex workers. During a meeting with the UN Committee on the Elimination of All Forms of Discrimination Against Women (CEDAW), a representative of the Royal Thai Police went as far as to deny the issue’s existence. “In the case of sting operations, I insist that the Office of the Royal Thai Police has never included them in official policy, and has never supported officers to use such measures,” claimed Maj Gen Kraibun Suadsong. This article was first published in Thai on Prachatai and translated into English by Catherine Yen. – You can follow BangkokJack on Instagram, Twitter & Reddit. Or join the free mailing list (top right) Please help us continue to bring the REAL NEWS - PayPal Read the full article

Absent -Part 30

Still not done yet.   This part got long because I just kept going to make up for the days I missed.   Had to add a -read more- which I know kinda screws with you guys on mobile.  Sorry, just got too long.  Royai in this segment.  

Yeah, still not done yet. 

Prev parts 

xxxxxxxxxxx

It was difficult to focus on the alchemy now as she was on the verge of losing consciousness, however it was vital she see this to the end or it was possible that something would happen to prevent her from attempting it again.   She stared at Kimblee and watched his expression turn from ambivalent to sadistic as the dots started to obscure her vision and the darkness crept in from her peripherals.   His hands went up and he flashed his palms at her right before slamming them together and then she saw that glow of light for his transmutation and it all went dark.

Kimblee, the library and everything were no more, swallowed up by the darkness.  She felt the pressure of a squeeze around her chest and and let the dream take it's course.   She couldn't be dead, she could feel too much even if she was disorientated and scared.   Her heart pounded and her lungs screamed and her head began to throb.  The sensation of being squeezed got more intense and then there was something damp on her neck...and her eyes shot open in a panic.

She had no idea where she was.

The library was gone and all she saw was blue, the blue of their uniforms.   Her eyes were seeing, but her mind was not comprehending what she was seeing.   It was more frightening than her dream had been, waking to a surrounding she wasn't sure about.    She looked around as she tried to assess her situation and struggled to get up, her eyes darted around as she tried to get her bearings, that familiar feeling of waking up from a nightmare and not knowing if this was reality or just another version of hell.

“Lieutenant!”

That was enough to ground her.   His voice, panicked and cracking.   Roy's voice, right beside her.  The world around them no longer mattered and her eyes looked up into the face of the man who she had left dead on the side of the road.   He looked utterly distraught.  Then she felt that dampness on her neck again as Hayate nudged her with his nose.  

And the world made sense again.  

It felt like home where she could put her feet on the ground and know she belonged. She could feel her body again, feel the damp nose on her skin and the rough uniform against her face.   Roy was holding her and it felt so good.   He was alive.   Then her eyes shot open as she remembered where she potentially was: the warehouse district.   She pushed against him as he babbled about her needing to say something assure him that she was OK,  but she couldn't let him compromise himself like this.  “Let go.”

“No.”  Roy pulled her chin over to make her look at him.  “Not until you tell me if you're OK! What happened?”

“You're in danger, let go.”  She repeated and struggled to sit up but her body wasn't completely responding.  Her limbs were still a little numb, still tingly from the sleep paralysis and she couldn't help but panic as she felt the lack of response from her own body.  Too much was happening at once and all she could do was weakly push against him to reinforce her point.   To compound her issues, she felt like she was going to pass out.  

“Stay still.”  

“This was alchemy...that alchemist you dismissed....”  She whispered and saw his confusion mix with his lack of concern for the explanation.  He only saw her right now and as she regained control of her body she pushed away from his grasp.  There was the potential for an audience or an attack, but she had no idea how to make him understand the danger.   She looked around as she tried to move her arm to grab her gun if needed and saw Hayate put himself between them and someone over by one of the buildings.  “He's here.”

Roy had no idea what she was talking about but was more concerned by her agitated state and the physical reaction of her body to all of it.  He wanted to listen but the signs of her distress were all he could hear right now.; her rapid heart rate pulsating in the blood vessel in her neck and her strained breathing that made him worry she was struggling for air.  

Riza felt helpless, just like it was a dream.  Why wasn't he listening to her!   She knew it's because she wasn't able to force out the words and explain herself, but he knew better than to kneel here out in the open next to her and expose himself!  She was shaking now, dizzy and bordering on passing out thanks to her inability to push aside the adrenaline from waking up in a panic.   It wasn't helping....she had been through too much already to lose sight of what was really going on here: she had to overcome her body's response to what was going on.  

Roy ignored Hayate's whine and looked into Riza's eyes as she calmed down and stopped fighting him.  Pleading eyes, asking for his help.  “What do you need me to do?”

She had his attention, his focused attention, and that was good enough.   Now her eyes went to Hayate and followed where he was looking to see someone standing in the shadows of the warehouse.  No, not just someone, more people were materializing.   It had to be him, just from the look he was giving her she knew it was him...the alchemist.   Her body reacted to her anger and she could do nothing about it That damned alchemist was standing there brimming with satisfaction and her grandfather was standing there with his own look of satisfaction for an entirely different reason.   There were a few more officers, ones from the General's staff that were on the committee for interviewing State Alchemist certification candidates. So she spoke up, finally finding her voice, and hoped Roy would just play along. “Sir, you were right.  The alchemy...is easy to overcome even by someone who has no alchemy training whatsoever.”

Roy just stared at her, he knew from the look in her eyes and the attention that Hayate was directing behind them that there was someone watching.   He assumed it was his men, or maybe warehouse workers...he honestly didn't care.   He had found her laying here unresponsive and the absolute last thing he cared about was appearances.  He could explain his way out of anything, even if the Fuhrer himself was standing there he was confident in his bullshitting ability to come up with something no matter 'what it looked like'.    His concern was in how Riza was acting right now, her strained breathing, her weak attempts to push against him and now this nonsense.   “Lieutenant, we need to get you to the hospital.”

“Sir.”  Riza said firmly and finally propped herself up.   She had to think quickly, the danger could only be fought with words now.    “It was brilliant for you to anticipate that man's revenge tactics to try to ruin your reputation and gain credibility for his alchemy in one blow.”

Roy finally blinked away the concern as her eyes looked behind him and she returned her gaze to him and intently told him with just a look that he needed to listen to her, now.  He steeled his emotions and  turned to look over his shoulder, to the audience of all the high command and....that crazy asshole with the alchemy coin from last week?    He had no explanation for any of this but all the faith in the world that Riza knew what she was talking about.   He followed her lead without missing a beat, “I dismissed him for a reason, there is no room for an individual with such compromised integrity and parlor trick alchemy in the military.  Military prison however, suits people like you Mr. Henry.”

Riza watched the alchemist, Henry, react to it all.  Disbelief and shock, then rage.   She sat up and made a show of dusting some debris from her hair and readjusting her uniform, then pet her dog who jumped into her lap and licked her face.   All while Mr. Henry fumed.   It took all her strength to do it, her body felt so tired and her mind was hazy.   This was all so surreal, but there would be time later to figure it all out.   There was only one opportunity to deflect the potential damage from this and it was now.

“Impossible!” Henry screamed.  “It worked perfectly!   You picked up the coin like a lure, you were immobilized and completely in REM sleep....it worked!”

“Arrest him.” Roy ordered, no doubt in his mind that this man was indeed the threat.   He thought him slightly unstable but not to this degree. He watched Grumman's bodyguards look started and then leap into action to grab the alchemist who was now flailing about trying to free his hands to perform a transmutation.  It was then that he saw it, the circle etched in the dirt and the coin glistening in the sunlight.   He had no idea how the hell Riza had worked all this out but his confusion and concern disappeared and his anger grew.  This bastard had deliberately targeted Riza to get back at him and that was unforgivable.  Once the MPs had Henry restrained he looked down to Riza and she gave him a subtle smile that said 'later'.   He never felt so clueless about a situation in his life, but he stood and held out his hand to help her up, he didn't need answers when he had the utmost faith in her.

“Thank you sir.” Riza set her dog down and took Roy's hand and stood on wobbly legs and he instantly grabbed her to steady her.   “Even if it was a little heavy on the overacting.”

He knew everyone was watching them, watching them touching, and had been watching his absolute panic as he held her in his arms and tried to wake her.  She was covering for him, trying to lead him away from this nightmare of rumors and allegations that he was fraternizing with his secretary.   He gave a shrug and a smirk even if it was completely forced, “Always the critic, Lieutenant.   I'll have you know I am the top paid actor at the Hughes Drama Theater in Central and have never received a complaint before.”

That seemed to appease everyone, except for her grandfather.   The other officers were quick to turn and walk back to the car, eager for lunch and not interested in staying to witness more praise lauded upon the Flame Alchemist, but Grumman stood there with a smile.   She stood up tall and waited, knowing what was coming.  

“Looked very convincing to me, Mustang.”  Grumman grinned.   “Quite the incredible strategy, I have to wonder how you lose in chess so much when you clearly see through your opponents tactics so well.”

“General Grumman, Mr.Henry was hardly on par with your genius.” Roy said and could see the old man's smile and eyebrows wiggle.   He was like a hound on blood trail now and there was no taking him off it.  Dammit.  

“Maybe next time we should up the stakes and play for something you actually want to win.”  Grumman put his hands behind his back and gave Riza a toothy grin.  “My granddaughter would make an incredible wife for you, probably the only woman I know that would outmaneuver you.  Let me know if you would like to meet her, she might appreciate your...overacting performances as well.”

It was incredible how inappropriate he could be.   Roy just smiled as the old man laughed and walked back to his entourage.    Once he was sure they were far enough away he let loose a strained breath and turned to Riza to look over her face and make sure she was still doing OK.   “I have no idea what just happened.”

“Let's go back to the office.”  She said and then turned to look at the coin in the dirt, she pulled from his grasp and he reluctantly let her go,  then she walked over bent down to picked it up.   There was no way she was going to let Roy touch the damned thing.  Standing was a little difficult, she was still light headed from waking up.   Now she felt like she was going to crash, like the mental and physical exhaustion was just going to take her legs out from under her.  

“After you go to the infirmary and get checked out.”  He said and watched her wobble a little as she stood upright again.  He walked over and reached out to stead her again and give her a reassuring squeeze.  He was having a hard time coping with how stressed he was over her right now.   He heard his voice crack a little as he said in a low voice,  “Maybe you could fill me in on the way there?”

“This coin works.” She said and grabbed on to it so hard it probably made an impression on her palm.   She wanted him to destroy it but she knew that wasn't the answer.  She had no idea how to summarize her experience, or how much she really wanted to share before she could fully digest it herself.   She still needed answers.   “How long have I been out?”

“Of the office?” Roy asked and lead her over to where he had parked the car.   “You left around 0900, Hayate came back to get me about an hour later.”

“He...came back to get you?”  She asked and looked down at her dog who was glued to her side.  

“I love that dog and he's getting a promotion.  He ran back to HQ, darted in the front door between Major Cafferty's legs, went up the stairs and barked at the door until we opened it.   I followed him and told him to wait for me to get the car, then followed him.  He's a good boy, a real good boy. ”  Roy said and lead her over to the car, then opened the passenger door for her.  He gently held her arm as she lowered herself into the seat, still disoriented.   Hayate was on her lap the instant her butt hit the seat.  He watched her react by wrapping her arms around him and letting him nuzzle her.   She seemed so distant, tired....but content.   He was trying to remain professional, but inside he was concerned enough to make himself queasy.   He rushed over to his door and got in, then drove with more caution than normal to avoid making himself throw up.  “Riza, are you OK?  If that son of a bitch did anything to you...”

“I'm fine Roy.” She said reassuringly and leaned back in the seat to look over at him.  He was alive and he was her Roy.  “I don't even know where to begin with telling you what happened.”

“How did you know it was him?  Did you put yourself in harms way just to...” Roy drove slowly, watching the curious workers as they stopped to see what the fuss was about.  They were trying to fix some pallets and crates that he may have hit in his attempt to keep up with Hayate as he darted through the alleys around the buildings.   One guy gave him the finger so he assumed that this was the way he came in.

“No, I walked right into his trap and his alchemy does work.”  She said softly and pet her dog.  “I was in an induced dream state and I had to find my way out of this world where everything was different because we never met.  Something I thought you would be better off for, and you were happy, but it got you killed and....the boys.  God, the boys!   Are the boys OK?”

“Why wouldn't they be?”  Roy asked as she reached for the radio receiver and pressed the button to call HQ.   He was still worried, and he felt his stomach churn as she acted unlike herself again.  If Henry did something to her....

“This is Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye, per Colonel Mustang's orders we need a BOLO put out on the Elric brothers and them brought into East HQ to the Colonel's office when found.”

Roy just remained silent as Riza took charge and used his name to get the Elrics dragged in from god knows where for reasons unknown.  He just drove as quickly as he dared back to HQ to get her to the infirmary.   It had been a long time since he was this scared and they weren't in immediate danger.  

“Sorry, I need to make sure they are safe.”  Riza could tell from the look he was giving her that he was now more worried than before because she just assumed command without any explanation. She had to remember that she wasn't Lt. Colonel Hawkeye anymore and never really was.  “I'm sorry....I just watched you all die and I need to know every one of you is safe and alive.”

“It was just a dream, but I understand.”  Roy replied.   Her thought process was all over the place, something that was unthinkable for Riza.  She was always focused and carefully to explain her actions so that everyone understood the situation.   It was her way;  It's how she was the leader and teacher she was.  However right now, she was jumping from being unconscious to accusing some alchemist she never met of conspiracy and now she was basically sitting in his seat doing his job and...well... she was acting like him.  Mind too many places at once to bother explaining any of it.  

She could hear his uncertainty, his worry.   She pet her dog and gave Roy a reassuring smile as he drove back to HQ like a rational and responsible driver. He was actually so concerned and worried he didn't want to drive too fast because he didn't think he could react quick enough.  He needed answers. “The coin was activated and put me in a dream state, I was confronted with an alternative reality that was a mixture of all my experiences and fears.   You never met me, you never became the flame alchemist and you never went to Ishval.  You studied bio-alchemy from Ed and Al's father, and you took care of them after they did human transmutation.  The boys lived with you.  You were all so happy.”

Silence.   Then he replied quietly, sadly,   “You say that as if you were the reason that everything happened to me, that somehow removing yourself from my life was enough to restore my happiness and fix the lives of those kids.   You don't think that do you?  Henry's coin was supposed to show you an alternative life where every went differently and you are able to change the wrongs that happened.   You don't actually believe my life could be better without you, do you?”

“You were still innocent and invested in alchemy.  You believed in it, because it hadn't betrayed you.”  She said and looked down at her dog. “Without me you didn't have the alchemy to destroy Ishval or yourself.  You were left unscathed. “

“I would never wish for that....being without you.”  He said and keep his eyes on the road as he tried to comprehend a life without her then he added softly, “Unless it made you happy.”

“Now you understand.”  She said and rested her chin on Hayate's head.  “I hate myself so much for hurting you and it's crossed my mind that if we never met...”

“None of what happened to us was in any way your fault.  I made my choices and in doing so I let you down.”  He reached over and took her hand and squeezed it.  “I never want to be without you.”

“You were happy.” She said and threaded her fingers into his.   “However it cost you your life when you encountered Scar.  I watched you die because of it.  Ed and Al....died too when they rushed in to your defense and you weren't alive or capable of saving them.   It's why I need to see them, no matter how pissed Ed is going to be about it.”

“I understand.” He said.  “What about you?  Without me....were you happy?”

“I was...different.”  She didn't really know how to describe that alternative version of herself.  Was she happy, yes, but she was also isolated and so unaware of everything she was missing out on.   She could feel the tension in the car as Roy waited to hear the answer, dreading hearing that she could find some better life without him. “I was a different person.   Was she happy with that life she had, I don't know that she really based her level of happiness on anything more than having a roof over her head, food and an income.   She was not me.”

“Than that version of me, was not me either.”  Roy said and looked over at her as they pulled into the parking lot by the infirmary.  “He clearly didn't know what he was missing and that is not a basis for judging happiness.   I love you.   I wish we had a different life without the pain we've endured, maybe a little more freedom to be us, but you are definitely not a part of my life I regret.   That man might have thought he was happy but he clearly didn't know what that meant if he never experienced loving you.”

She turned to him and was speechless until he squeezed her hand and pulled his own away and got out of the car.  Before she could collect herself he was at her door and opening it for her.  

“So what did you do without me?”  He had to ask out of curiosity.   He wanted to know, maybe it was just his desire to torture himself, but he couldn't wait til later to find out.  He had to know.

“I was the Flame Alchemist.”  She said and to her astonishment he gave her a satisfied smile.  One that said he had seen that alternative outcome before.   “You're...not at all surprised by that.”

“Not in the least.”  He said and held out his hand to help her up.  

Riza remained seated, suddenly overwhelmed  by something for the first time since she woke up.   She wanted to blame it on the adrenaline subsiding or maybe the chemicals in her body finally being metabolized...but she knew it was the fact that it was Roy's genuine belief in her to do anything even alchemy.  Even his alchemy.  

“Come on, Lieutenant.” He said softly.  “Let's get you checked out so we can get back to the office before Fullmetal destroys it because you had him dragged in like a criminal.”

She put her hand in his and he pulled her out of the car.  Hayate jumped out and as he reached to close the door she saw a smirk and a mischievous smile that reassured her that this was indeed her Roy Mustang.

“Later, however, I am absolutely open to exploring you playing the part of the Flame Alchemist as long as you watch what you rub with my gloves.” He grinned at her and then slammed the door.   He was happy to see that amused but admonishing look on her face, it made him feel like things were going to be alright.

The Revelation of All Things - 45. In which good advice comes from unexpected places

Read the full fic on AO3.

Read on Tumblr (desktop)

The paper crumpled under his palm as he leaned both hands against his desk and hung his head. She wasn't coming back. She'd gone to the Exalted Plains instead. With Solas. Just Solas. And the words didn't even come from her. The message before him was penned by The Iron Bull several days ago.

"Maker, help me."

The jealousy was irrational, and he knew it. He did trust her. She wouldn't... not without ending things properly first. But the part of him that felt like he didn't deserve her in the first place, that understood he would lose her regardless of anything he said or did, whispered that it might be better if she did. It's better this way. Move on and don't look back.

The week leading up to his breakdown, to his confession, he'd felt himself slipping. The stress of the Winter Palace had caused the nightmares of torture, vacant eyes, and the mangled corpses of his friends to bleed into his waking hours, pulling him down. He'd locked the doors more than once during that week to empty the contents of his stomach and curl up on the floor until someone knocked hard enough to pull him from his stupor and get him working again. The need for lyrium had been nearly unbearable, making him shake uncontrollably - joints aching, skin crawling, pain shooting through his body. The box came off the shelf countless times, but inevitably, he'd think of her. Nothing else stopped him. Only the imagined disappointment on her face. The vision of her dismay would force him to close the box, he feet heavy as he shuffled over to place it in its normal spot. Then he'd work until the wee hours of the morning, trying to avoid the nightmares. He barely slept. The draughts were gone by the fourth day, but he didn't dare ask for more lest she worry. The only time he could truly breathe was during her brief visits when he could drown his thoughts in the softness of her lips under his, the intensity of her responses, the give of her body in his hands.

But she'd noticed anyway. She'd asked questions. And he'd been gruff and unresponsive in return. Then he'd broken down and shown her exactly how weak he was. He exhaled in a short hiss.

Now she isn't coming back.

He straightened himself and then attempted to straighten the crumpled message from Bull. The days since she'd left had been difficult, but gradually the pain faded and, with it, the intensity of the gut-wrenching visions. He felt physically stronger than he had in weeks. When the images of his past haunted his thoughts and sought to trip him, that strength helped him stay grounded. That and her faith in him. Always her faith in him.

The lack of a constant reminder - a lack of lyrium within arm's reach - had also helped more than he'd thought it would. The strip on the inside lid of his box that carried a relief of Andraste had somewhat miraculously survived the violent collision with his door. He now touched it briefly as it lay on his desk - a reminder that he'd come through it. With her help, and maybe a little from Andraste, he had endured... this time. At least he had yet to let her down in that way.

But she would be gone for at least another two weeks now - probably closer to three of four - and she hadn't written him a letter. Since her first trip to the Hinterlands, she'd always written at least one letter directly to him during her travels. They weren't sentimental. They rarely contained anything but a more detailed and flowery account of her dealings in each place. But those letters, his letters, came with pretty elven doodles and small stories and jokes and turns of phrase she knew he'd appreciate.

This time, however, she'd barely corresponded with any of them. Leliana resorted to requesting an update, but by that time, Evana had already - finally - sent one. Even Cole had sent him a brief and mystifying note. But she had sent him nothing.

And he couldn't even think about the fact that she'd deliberately fought yet another dragon.

If she were rethinking her attachment to him, he couldn't blame her. He wasn't proud of his past - he was doing everything possible to atone. He had come a long way but still had a long journey ahead. How could he ask her to look at him the same way now that she knew - now that she'd seen his brokenness?

On top of everything he put her through that day, he'd forgotten she was leaving until he heard the gates rising. By the time he'd scrambled down from his loft and out to the battlements, she was lost to the mist. In his pain and weakness, he'd pushed her away, and she'd gone. He had no one to blame but himself.

But that voice whispered to him again. It's better this way. You're going to lose her eventually anyway...

"Commander, you're wanted in the war room immediately."

Cullen hadn't noticed Leliana's messenger, Harvil, enter his office. Turning slightly to face the young man, he nodded.

"I'll be there momentarily."

Gathering up his paperwork, he took the long way around to the great hall. As if making up for the unseasonably warm Haring, Wintermarch had been nothing but cold and snow so far. Even now, a storm roiled on the horizon, obscuring much of the mountains as the clouds descended upon them, but the bitterly cold wind on the battlements felt good on his flushed face.

By the time he walked into the war room, he'd ordered his thoughts and pushed down the doubts. He had a job to do, so he would do it to the best of his ability. Everything else was superfluous.

Leliana and Josephine waited for him around the table. As he approached, Leliana laid a letter on the war table for him to read.

"Ah, Cullen. Good. We need your input. This just came in from one of my agents still stationed in the Free Marches."

He picked it up, and a feeling of dread settled over him as the words Clan Lavellan and Wycome jumped off the page.

"I think we can safely say that soldiers are not a good response to this situation," Josephine added. "Perhaps Leliana could risk sending her agents again, but even her own man warns us against that in his letter. I believe our best option is an ‘ambassador' from the Inquisition. I know just the person, too."

Cullen finished skimming over the missive and looked up at the other two advisors. The letter painted a grim picture, but he couldn't fault Josephine's logic. The humans - and only humans - in Wycome were getting sick on a massive scale. No one could figure out why. What better scapegoat than a somewhat hostile clan of elves camped just outside the city? He'd love nothing more than to send all his forces to Wycome, but at this rate, the elves would be dead before his soldiers even reached the city gates. The situation required delicacy, and Josephine's ambassador could provide that.

"It sounds like you've already made your decision," he observed, adding a touch of coolness to his tone. "What do you need me for?"

Leliana and Josephine shared an enigmatic look. Leliana spoke first.

"We thought you might be the most qualified to break the news to the Inquisitor. It will have to be done through letter and you are close with her... are you not?"

Cullen blanched. It must've been the exact wrong reaction. Their faces contorted into expressions of concern bordering on panic.

"What happened?" Josephine asked softly.

Cullen willed his face to remain passive, but he could feel his jaw clenching anyway. "Nothing."

Which was true, he realized with startling clarity. Nothing had been spoken between them to end things. All his doubt and concerns amounted nothing more than speculation - and possibly withdrawal-driven paranoia - based on her vaguely abnormal behavior in the days since she'd left. He clenched his jaw in defiance of his own tendency to deny himself. As much as he might not deserve her, he could not truly wish to be without her. It was another weakness. She was his weakness... and yet also his strength.

"I am not the most eloquent of correspondents when it comes to... delicate situations," he dissembled.

Leliana narrowed her eyes, clearly unconvinced, but she said nothing. Josephine merely waved her hand at him and smiled reassuringly.

"No matter. Have Varric help you with the language if you're worried. It will mean more coming from you. Tell her I have already sent an ambassador, and her clan is in good hands."

How could he argue without raising further suspicion? He stared down at the war table as he responded in measured tones.

"Very well. I will have it to you by the end of the day. Anything further?"

Leliana finally spoke again. "The mage tower renovations are nearly complete and the mages started moving their books and research work there. Also, Harritt stopped me on my way here to tell me he has narrowed his list of blacksmiths down to two based on the samples they have sent. He thinks you should visit them both personally to make your choice. You should probably go speak to him for more details."

Cullen looked up to find Leliana watching him closely. "I will... after."

She nodded. "That's all I have. Josephine?"

"Nothing right now."

Cullen nodded and grabbed the letter. "I'll need this for reference. I will bring it back with my message."

They left the room, each with their own destination. Cullen had never felt anything like the dread that now pooled in his stomach. He must write her a letter to tell her Clan Lavellan was in danger... again. The task was daunting enough even without the prickling fear that she especially might not want to hear it from him at all.

He pushed the thought away. It was his task, and he would do it.

Walking through the hall and down the steps to the upper courtyard, Cullen's legs felt heavy with the weight of his reluctance. He was loath to ask the sarcastic dwarf for assistance, but truthfully, Varric was his best chance at not mucking this up. In the last few months, a kind of tentative camaraderie had developed between the former Kirkwall residents. Cullen hoped the bond would be strong enough to elicit the more serious side of Varric's talents.

He opened the door to the Herald's Rest and instantly found Varric and Hawke by the volume of their laughter alone. As with every other woman on the planet, Marian Hawke had made Cullen nervous when she first introduced herself in Kirkwall, especially with how she'd relentlessly flirted with him. With her classic beauty and warrior prowess, he'd been awed and annoyed by her in equal measure.

Here in Skyhold, however, it wasn't business and it wasn't battle. This was just... life, and she was even more sarcastic and biting than Varric sometimes. Just as with Cassandra, however, Cullen had come to know the Champion of Kirkwall better in the several months she'd been hanging around Skyhold off and on. He could now laugh with her most of the time, even when she directed her biting comments at him. She seemed unaware of his relationship with Evana, so he was not afraid of anything she might say.

"Curly!" Varric exclaimed when he finally noticed Cullen's approach. "What brings you here so early? It's not even noon, yet."

Cullen huffed out a little laugh as he sat down beside them. "I could say the same to you, but we all know you two spend most of your time here heckling the other customers, drinking ale and playing card games."

Hawke rolled her eyes. "Beats working ourselves to death. Besides, I've been helping with drills every day and you know it. Where have you been the last couple of weeks?"

Even this, Cullen could take. In the months he'd been with the Inquisition, he'd become adept at providing excuses for his occasional absences.

"Doing serious work planning an assault," he replied easily.

Varric pointed a thumb at Hawke. "You know, she could probably help you out with that, having been part of a few assaults in her lifetime."

"Fair point," Cullen acknowledged. "But today, I actually need your assistance, Varric."

Varric looked half surprised, half amused. "Hold on to your boots, Hawke. Curly needs my help." Hawke snorted indelicately, and Varric gave her a toothy grin before turning his attention back to Cullen. "What can I do for ya?"

"I need help writing a delicate letter. The Inquisitor's clan is in danger, and... I am not well versed in sentimentality. I could use some advice."

Varric's face went serious instantly. "What kind danger?"

"Will you come back to my office? It's too loud here for me to think. And this is not the type of information that should be widely distributed."

Surprised by the sudden serious looks on their faces, Cullen raised an eyebrow at both of them. Hawke must have truly come to respect their Inquisitor during their time pursuing the Warden threat. She seemed almost... distraught.

"Mind if I tag along?" she asked. "I have a female perspective that - well, let's just say I don't trust you men to not put a foot in it."

Cullen nodded. Varric mocked an offended look, punched her lightly on the arm and then sobered.

"Of course. Let's do this."

They trudged up the stairs to Cullen's office. The clouds that threatened at the edge of the mountain grew ever closer, and he wondered briefly if the storm would hit tonight. He told the guards on the battlements that he wasn't to be disturbed and closed and locked all the doors as they entered the relative warmth of his office. Sitting down at his desk, he pulled up a chair for Varric. Hawke leaned her hip on the desk at his opposite side.

"So, how do you begin a letter like this?"

Varric looked at him seriously. "First, I can't help you write this letter until know what in Andraste's name is going on between you two."

Cullen felt all the blood drain from his face for the second time that day. Varric's face contorted, and he wondered vaguely if this was the "awww, shit" face Evana had told them about during one of their early war council meetings in Haven.

"Did you two have a fight?" Hawke asked quietly.

Cullen's head whipped from Varric to Hawke and then back again. By the blood of the Maker, does everyone know everything about my relationship with the Inquisitor? He turned to stare blankly at his desk for a moment. He didn't want to say it. But Varric was right. The dwarf couldn't really help with the letter unless he knew all the variables. All Cullen's paranoid fears and over-sensitive assumptions. He grimaced and then let out a giant sigh as he leaned back in his chair.

"No, nothing so simple as a fight, I'm afraid."

Hawke raised her eyebrows in surprise. "A fight would be simple in comparison? That doesn't bode well."

Cullen struggled again. How did he describe something he wasn't sure he could really put in words himself? Perhaps Varric just needed the facts. He knew Evana better than almost anyone. Maybe he could work out what she might be thinking.

"I... you asked about my absences... I didn't lie. I have been planning for Adamant. But I have also been dealing with..." Cullen took a deep breath and then rushed through the rest. "... with lyrium withdrawal. I asked Cassandra relieve me from duty, but Evana talked me down. I told her things about my past. Things I'm not proud of - Kirkwall, which of course you are aware - but also things before that. Worse things. I needed time to process, so I asked her for a moment. In my distraction, I forgot she was leaving the next morning. I've never missed seeing her off before - not once. And now, she's acting... distant. I think. It's hard to tell, but... well, she's been gone for weeks and hasn't sent me any letters, yet."

Varric hummed at this last piece of news, but otherwise, the two remained silent, seemingly deep in thought. Cullen didn't dare look at either one of them. He'd revealed one of his greatest weaknesses to two people who, by all accounts, would be the worst people to tell. Therefore, Hawke's quiet, sympathetic response threw him off completely.

"Sorry for the earlier jab. I didn't know. Lyrium withdrawal..." She sucked in a breath. "Shit. How long have you been off it?"

Cullen finally looked up at her. "Almost a year now. It was a momentary lapse. I'm fine now... well, perhaps fine isn't quite right. I'm sure I will have difficult days in the future. But I am better. I didn't get a chance to tell her... I... I need her to know that her faith in me made all the difference. I don't want to tell her this through a letter, but I also don't want to seem distant."

"Yes. I can see your problem, though you seem to have a better grasp on the situation than most. Men are usually so clueless." She clapped a hand on his shoulder. "I always thought you were a bit of a stick in the mud, but lately I find I like you better and better."

Cullen let out a derisive laugh. "Having a grasp on the situation doesn't mean I know how to deal with it."

Hawke just gave him a sympathetic smile. Varric had been silent up to this point, and Cullen risked a glance in his direction. The dwarf sat, staring at the floor, his hands clasped in his lap, clearly thinking through things. Finally, he turned to Cullen.

"You said she was acting ‘distant' and mentioned no letters. Anything else?"

"She-" Cullen cut off abruptly. Now that he'd had a chance to think over things, he found his fears didn't hold as much weight as they had before. But he would let Varric be the judge. He talked through all his reasons, including the dragon fight, and ended with her leaving her companions behind to go on alone with Solas.

"I know Solas' friend was in danger," he finished, "but... it seems contrary to her typical style. She's usually so careful - considers all her options."

Varric nodded. "I can see why you'd say that, but if you want my opinion, I think it's more about you asking for time than any shocking revelations about your past sins. She's trying to give you space. And knowing her, she's maybe a little scared of what you'll say if she approaches you first. Try to remember that only a few months ago she barely talked to any of us at all, even you Curly. She's still not very good at all this relationship stuff." Varric gave Cullen a significant look and then turned to Hawke. "Any thoughts from the token female in the room?"

Hawke shot Varric a dirty look and then smiled brilliantly. "Thanks for asking. Don't worry, Varric, you almost got it right."

Varric swept his hand between himself and Cullen. "Then by all means, enlighten us poor, ‘clueless men,' your all-knowing-ness."

"Well, from what you've told me about your Inquisitor and the little I've been able to observe, I think she's having a bit of a growing moment. She wants to stand on her own two feet and rely on herself a bit more now that she's unsure of whether or not she can approach you. You just need to reassure her that things between you haven't changed."

Varric just stared at her. Finally, he sputtered, "Andraste's dimpled buttcheeks, Hawke - that's basically what I said!"

Hawke reached over Cullen and gave the dwarf a condescending pat on the head. "You just keep telling yourself that, darling. After all, someone has to stroke that giant ego of yours."

"I have a giant ego?" Varric asked incredulously.

As the two bickered, Cullen frantically processed their words. It came down to the fact that he'd pushed her away, and now she felt alone, like she had to deal with things on her own. Would she return to the way she'd been when she first joined them? Close them out of her life? Close him out of her life?

Maker's breath, he'd failed her. He raised his fingers to his temples, trying to massage away the beginnings of a headache. Hawke's hand on his shoulder brought him out of his thoughts.

"Don't worry so much, Cullen. We heroes all have to go through something like this sooner or later. Friends - and lovers - are necessary. We should trust them and let them help us with our burdens, but we should never use them as a crutch... Unless that friend is Varric, in which case," she raised her hand to about Varric's height on her body, "he's just about the right height for it."

"Pretty words for a walking disaster," Varric quipped. Hawke scrunched up her nose and narrowed her eyes at him, but Varric ignored her and turned back to Cullen. "Regardless, we need to get this letter written and off to her as soon as possible. Has Scout Harding been sent to the Exalted Plains already?"

Cullen nodded, glad to speak of something not related to conjecture and feelings. Firm facts were much easier.

"Yes, and she has likely arrived, though we haven't heard from her yet. We expect to today. She'll set up a forward camp and send out scouts to find the Inquisitor and her companions as soon as she arrives."

Varric grunted. "Good. Now, tell us about what's going on with her clan."

Cullen passed the letter from Leliana's agent to Varric. "It's all here. Josephine is sending an ambassador, but the situation is tenuous. I don't wish to frighten Evana, but I also don't want to give her false hope that everything will be well."

Varric skimmed the letter and then handed it to Hawke. "Well, we've got a lot to cover in one letter. Let's get started."

They worked for over an hour, but by the time Varric and Hawke left his office, Cullen was satisfied that it was as good as it could be under the circumstances. Varric had encouraged him to be more forthcoming about his... feelings, but Cullen could only bring himself to let her know he would like to speak with her when she returned. He's also felt it necessary to write in a postscript - as she had all those months ago - explaining that he'd had a little help writing the letter. He wasn't about to pretend he'd suddenly gotten good at all this. Even though he still had his doubts, he already felt less discouraged, and most of that was because of Varric and Hawke. Hawke in particular had given him much to think about - the Champion might be the only person in Skyhold who truly understood the pressures Evana faced.

Once again, the strong urge to give Evana something - to show her how he felt - washed over him. But he had nothing. Templars never had much to begin with, but after Haven, even the little he'd collected since leaving the Order had been burned or buried. A trunk full of clothing and letters wasn't really much to lament - except for the loss of her letters. Perhaps he could commission something? He must speak with Harritt about the additional blacksmith anyway. Perhaps the man would have some ideas about what she might like.

Shoving the letter in his mantle, Cullen walked across the bridge to Solas' empty office. The apostate elf's murals now stretched across half of the rotunda. Evana's many deeds were painted there in detail, and he felt a surge of awe as he paused to remember the events in each scene. She had accomplished so much. No one could question now why they'd made her their leader.

Cullen climbed the stairs up to Leliana's rookery. She wasn't there, so, he laid the letter on her desk and headed for the Undercroft. He found Harritt leaning over the bellows, fanning the giant forge. In spite of the frigid weather and the giant hole in the side of the room, the forge kept the room at a nearly oppressive temperature. As he approached the smith, a thin sheen of sweat formed on his brow. A vague wave of dizziness hit him and then subsided.

"Harritt, Leliana said you wished to discuss the blacksmith situation with me."

Harritt turned, a frown pulling his lips down and creasing his brow. "Eh? Oh, Commander! Yes. Give me a moment, will you?"

"Of course."

Cullen left the smith to his work and wandered around the Undercroft until he came upon Dagna, Skyhold's new arcanist, working on a rune. "Good afternoon, Dagna."

Clearly absorbed in her work, Dagna jumped at the sound of Cullen's voice. "Oh! Hi, Commander! So good to see you!"

"I apologize. I didn't mean to startle you."

"Oh, no! Well, yeah... but it's fine."

Her happy tone always unnerved him a bit, and he was unsure of what else to say. Harritt wasn't ready for him, though, so he asked the first question that popped into his head.

"How are you enjoying life at Skyhold?" Dagna gave him a great grin. "Never a dull moment here, that's for sure. I'm so happy to be here and working with such an amazing team of people. Also, the work is fascinating." She held up a tiny, red shard in her gloved hand. "This stuff... it's just crazy. And weird."

Cullen had felt a little woozy as he approached, but he'd assumed it was the terrifying drop only ten feet to his right. Now, he knew why his stomach lurched and why perspiration soaked through his under tunic. A faint, twisted humming wound its way to his ears.

"Right. Red lyrium. Please be careful. It's very dangerous."

The chipper dwarf nodded enthusiastically. "Oh, absolutely! It's dangerous enough handling the raw form of normal lyrium, let alone this strange stuff. I'll certainly be careful. It's still fascinating, though. Still trying to figure out what makes it red."

At her words, the dizziness returned, so Cullen merely bowed in response and made a hasty retreat. He'd known she was working with it - trying to find weaknesses to exploit - but seeing it was different. He shuddered when he thought of what might have been... If I hadn't accepted Cassandra's offer, would I be a red templar by now?

Harritt waved at him from his workbench. "Commander, I'm ready."

Cullen walked around the forge and stood in front of the man, who had turned around to grab a couple of samples off his bench. Turning back, he presented two pieces of armor for Cullen to review.

"These are the best two, Commander. I'll admit they're both mighty fine pieces - nearly as good as what we've got here. Both smiths are reputable and hardworking, and both are within a few-day's journey of here. I think the only thing left is to visit ‘em both and form an opinion of the smiths themselves. Nothing like an in-person visit from the Commander of the Inquisition forces."

"Where are they from?"

Harritt handed him a sleeve and vambrace. "This piece is from a smith in West Hill, up near the Storm Coast. The details are fine and strong, no chinks or weaknesses, and he comes highly recommended by soldiers as far away as Denerim."

Cullen worked the pieces and nodded. It was strong and the pieces moved smoothly around each other. After a moment, Harritt took that piece and handed him the second piece - a full cuirass.

"This one is a fine specimen as well. The breastplate is solid and barely shows the beating we gave it. You can see, no cracks and nice coverage all the way 'round. Made down south, from a smith in Honnleath."

Cullen broke into a surprised half-smile. "Ah."

"Know him?"

Cullen admired the piece and then handed it back to Harritt. "Not the blacksmith, no, but my family is originally from Honnleath."

"Well, then, it's a good excuse to visit home, then, eh?"

"Well... my family moved to South Reach more than ten years ago - during the Blight - so I doubt if I know anyone in the area anymore."

Harritt tilted his head and regarded Cullen curiously. "Still, mightn't there be some familiar places you could visit?" The smith turned to place the cuirass on his bench before adding, "You should take the Inquisitor with you."

Cullen shifted on his feet, his mouth opening before he could consider his words. "Uh... what?"

"She's a mite obsessed when it comes to crafting and forging," he explained as he arranged a few things on his work table. "She'd love to visit the blacksmiths. And you could show her a place or two around Honnleath while you're there."

Even without Harritt's direct gaze, Cullen's face blazed with heat, and he couldn't blame the forge for that. But he also couldn't deny that Harritt's words had merit. After all they'd been through, perhaps a few days away would give him and Evana time to focus on something other than imminent doom. That is, if she still wanted to go anywhere with him.

 "Ah, yes... perhaps you're right. I will ask if she wishes to accompany me... errr... us..."

He paused, teeth clenched, and gathered his courage. Harritt continued to putter at his desk as if he knew Cullen was having a difficult time and wished to give him time to compose himself.

"You seem to know our Inquisitor quite well," Cullen finally managed.

The words came out more a question than a statement. Harritt finally turned around, and Cullen forced himself to look into the smith's now twinkling eyes.

"I'd say we're well acquainted, yes."

"The other advisors and I were thinking of... giving the Inquisitor a gift. I thought you might have an idea of... of something the Inquisitor would like? Something I... uh, we... might commission?"

If it were possible, his face would have turned even more red. As it was, the added heat of his embarrassment caused a single bead of sweat to trickle down his cheek. Cullen cleared his throat slightly and tried for nonchalance as he wiped it away with a leathered finger.

"Something like a piece of jewelry?" Harritt asked rather too innocently.

A small bit of panic rose up in his gut, but Cullen forced himself to remain calm. "Not necessarily. Just something she would like. A small gift. A token of m- our... uh... gratitude for all she's done."

That wasn't the word on the tip of Cullen's tongue, but the look in Harritt's eye revealed that the smith already knew it. Affection, he could almost hear Harritt say. The word you're looking for is affection. Cullen cleared his throat again.

"Perhaps a useful item, such as a coat or a new staff?" Cullen suggested in a weak voice.

Harritt hummed while he stroked his chin and gazed off into the distance. "I could. The Inquisitor is a rare one in that she does prefer the useful and functional over something grand and overblown." He stroked his chin a bit more, the sparkle returning to his eye as he flicked his gaze toward Cullen. "But I wonder... do you happen to know her favorite stone? Or do you - any of you - have a keepsake you'd be willing to part with? The thought behind a gesture also impresses her. Maker knows she talked about that garden nonstop for weeks..."

Before Cullen could smother it, a stupid grin spread across his face. He ducked his head down in an attempt to hide it and then glanced back up at Harritt. "She did?"

"Maker, yes! She went on and on about it. That she'd mentioned wanting to fix it up, that you'd simply gone and done it because you thought she'd like it."

Try as he might, he couldn't seem to wipe the grin off his face. She truly liked it. Another blush suffused his face as he recalled her arms around his neck and the soft press of her lips against his cheek. It had been worth all the distractions and disruptions the renovations had caused just for that one moment, but to know that she'd then talked about it with others...

So she liked the thought behind the gesture? He barely registered when he began pacing. What did he have? Nothing. Could he obtain something in Honnleath? Honnleath...

The thought struck him, and he suddenly wondered why he'd never thought of it before. He did have something. Something he'd kept with him at all times. Something that seemed small and insignificant but meant a great deal to him. If she appreciated the thought - if that's what really pleased her - then perhaps Harritt could make it into something she'd treasure. He stopped pacing and reached into the small, hidden pocket in his breeches. There at the bottom of the pocket rested an old coin. Giving up all pretenses that this gift would come from "the advisors" - Harritt seemed to know anyway - Cullen pulled it out and handed it to the smith.

"This... this is the only thing I still have of my life before I joined the templars. Could you make something of that?"

Harritt took it and turned the worn currency over in his hands. "Wouldn't want to compromise the coin itself, of course. That's part of the charm. But... I wonder... Would you be willing to part with it for a bit? I need to do some thinking."

Cullen nodded. "Of course. Thank you, Harritt. Obviously, I understand that this cannot be a priority, but when you are able, let me know what I owe you."

Harritt held up his hands and shook his head. "I'll let you know the cost of materials, but the labor is on me..." He lifted the corner of his mouth in a knowing grin. "Just be happy, son. And make her happy, too."

Cullen flushed yet again but knew better than to deny anything. He tilted his head at the man in a gesture of acquiescence and respect.

"I'll do my very best."

"That's all anyone can ask," Harritt acknowledged.