#but what if we bring the sickness to alllll the humans

[diaryofanormalkid]

I’m so sick of the abortion debate honestly. There’s no more accountability for murderers—I mean “mothers.”

This has got to be the dumbest generation ever. Era. Whatever you wanna call it. In this essay I will— jk. But am I? I might turn this into one if I really feel like it.

“My body, my choice.” Argument is complete garbage. Because the whole argument crumbles to shreds as soon as they fall into the outcome of bringing another body into the equation.

I think they forget to realize that human rights apply also to human fetuses that grow inside women. And we have science to thank for reminding us that human life begins upon conception.

So they can deny alllll they want, saying “it’s not a baby, it’s a fetus” “it’s a clump of cells” “it doesn’t have consciousness” “it’s not developed enough so therefore it doesn’t hurt the fetus”

Alllll these points are pure BS when the facts point to a fetus being alive and a LIFE worthy of finishing its development. And this means we have to advocate for these ones who can’t speak or choose life for themselves.

Human rights don’t stop at the mother who holds the baby in her womb. Human rights are spread across all sectors and are meant to be EQUAL, even among fetuses that have just been conceived.

Because every fetus is human DNA that eventually grows into a uniquely designed person. So no, the mothers choice is not more important than that baby’s choice. They are both equal.

And before you say “but the mother is the one who has to live with the consequences, while the baby isn’t even born yet.” Does that mean the baby’s human rights don’t apply until birth?

Humans rights can’t vary upon the location of the human (womb or birthed), the stage of development of the human (infant or adult), or the quality of life they have (able vs disabled) or else I’m afraid we’d be going down a slippery slope by starting this rhetoric.

The baby didn’t ask to be created. This was the result/outcome of a choice made by its mother and biological father. Babies shouldn’t have to suffer the consequences of their mothers/fathers terrible decision making process.

If we really want to get into the “my body, my choice,” argument, let’s start here: the mom gets to choose 1) if she is having sex or not (in most cases), 2) who she is having sex with, no?

[obviously I’m not referring to rape/incest cases, in which I would leave these cases in a completely separate circumstance, but argue that I still don’t think abortion is the right option.]

So on that note, why is it all of a sudden a phenomenon for pro-choice individuals to drop all accountability on mothers and give them a free pass to murder if they absolutely do have a choice?

A mothers third option, whether to keep the baby or not, is essentially deciding whether she’s going to be a murderer, violate a baby’s human right, and lose her motherhood, or keep the child.

So in conclusion, my body my choice is a fair argument, so long as you actually apply that to the baby as well. Because if a mother can’t advocate for her own baby, then who will?

In conclusion, just think about what you’re really choosing when you decide to sacrifice your baby because of an irrational decision you made. Abortions really are murder.

[teacup-baphomet]

Heyyy, now wait a goshdang minute here!

Human during the pandemic: Ugh. I’m kinda a loner by nature and don't like socializing a whole heckin’ lot but ugh I've been housebound for nearly a year now and I'm tired of the only person I've truly been able to talk to face to face is my roommate whom I kinda tolerate more than actually like. Now I see why humans are considered social creatures even people like myself can get to the point where we’d want to actually go to a party... Or maybe just a small gathering but still... Alas... Prolly won't be getting my vaccine for at least 6 months. Cants even call this apartment a home anymore. It is but a cage. People don't belong in cages.

Borrower who is starving because everyone is home all the time and borrowing is scary af as a result but they are desperate (Abd lowkey literally dying of hunger) so they very hesitantly approach a seemingly gentle, quiet seeming human (see above): Hey, uh yeah. Tiny people exist. Surprise? *jazz hands* anyways you seem nice and..and I'm rather hungr-

Human: *grabs the borrower* omg a friend! Finally. And you are SO small n’ cute too. I could stare at you for hours*mcf*cking jars the borrower* this is only temporary. Gonna hop on Amazon rn and get the coolest looking cage I can find. You new home will be amazing I swear. We are gonna be such. Good. Friends. Forever! Just you wait and see! Haha. I never woulda thought of sharing my room with someone prior to this pandemic. So aren't you lucky, lil buddy? *laughs airily at the “convenient” coincidence*

Borrower:

[toosicktoocare]

Prompt: Batfam prompt coming your way if you want it! Entirely up to you! How about Dick goes out with a cold/flu/fever, because he cares more about the people he's saving than himself, and Jason and Tim have to catch him, beat the bad guys, and bring Dick home to rest and get alllll sorts of brotherly love?

It’s the drool that wakes Tim, the uncomfortable dampness pooling at the corner of his mouth. He comes to slowly, consciousness bringing with it an evident twinge across his lower back. A groan grows deep in his throat, wakefulness reminding him that he’s been hunched over a computer in the Cave for hours, leaving him feeling far older than he actually is. He contemplates nodding back off, fleeing from the lingering need for caffeine, but then there’s a scoff too close to his face, and he cracks an eye open to see Damian frowning at him.

“You’re repulsive, Drake.”

Tim sits up with a yawn and narrows his eyes into a dull glare, too tired to hold much heat across his eyes. He throws his arms over his head, lacing his fingers and arching his back into a much-needed stretch. “At least I’m not a demon spawn.”

Damian scoffs and pulls off his domino, a small yawn slipping past his lips.

“Did you just get back?”

“Father and I returned twenty-three minutes ago.”

Tim slumps back against the chair, working around the small, admitting thought that he actually needs to sleep in a real bed for more than an hour if he wants to continue operating as a human. He rubs at his bleary eyes. “How was it? Quiet?” 

“Our territory was. We bumped into Grayson about an hour ago. He was tipped off about a potential metahuman ring.”

Tim hums, eyes slipping shut, but then his sleep-riddled mind clears, and he jerks forward, eyes flying open. “Wait, what? Dick’s out?” He scans the room, noticing a distinct lack of Nightwing material.

“Of course he’s out.” Damian’s voice is annoyingly matter of fact, and Tim hops to his feet and crosses his arm, frown sharp.

“Damian, he’s sick.”

“Grayson is more than capable of working through illness, Drake. He’s been trained to withstand—”

“—anything. Yeah, I know,” Tim finishes, a worried bite to his tone. Bruce trained all of his bats to withstand illness, to work through ailments, to find an inner balance between exertion and fatigue. Still, he had checked Dick’s fever earlier, and it was worryingly high, resting at 102.3 degrees. He also knew that Dick was itching to explore the anonymous tip about the metahuman ring, and Tim had meant to keep Dick from leaving. Falling asleep over a large monitor was not a part of his nightly plans.

He leans over and taps into the comms on the computer, only faintly aware of Damian slipping up behind him. “Red Robin to Nightwing.” He waits, scanning the connection, waiting for a quiver in the flat audio line. “Come in, Nightwing.”

“He’s probably busy, Drake, making himself useful unlike—”

“Shut it,” Tim spits out, whipping a sharp glare over his shoulder before turning back to the computer. “Dick, answer the damn comm.”

There’s a drawn-out rasp of a breath that flicks across the audio line, a few, harsh coughs following. “Language, little wing.”

Tim wants to feel relieved, but Dick sounds exhausted, winded, his voice cracking and an octave lower than usual. “Jesus, Dick! What the hell are you doing?”

Dick sighs over the comm, and Tim taps loudly at the computer until he’s pulling up a visual of Dick sagged against a wall, chest heaving deeply as if he’s just run a marathon.

“I’ve got to look into this, Tim. A second tip came in. There’s movement at the shipping dock— very large boxes that are being transported to the warehouse that’s housing the metahuman ring.”

Tim taps a few more keys, pulling up a vitals scan that shows Dick’s temperature elevated to 102.6 degrees. “Dick, your fever’s rising. You need to—”

“I’ll be quick; I swear. I’ve gotta run.”

The comm goes dead, and Tim can see Dick pulling the earpiece from his ear and slipping it into his utility belt. He watches a moment longer, eyes studying Dick’s surroundings, each street sign, each flickering streetlight, until he swipes off the feed and whips around, moving past Damian to suit up.

“You’re going out?”

“Someone has to drag his stupid ass back here.” Tim exhaustion is teasing at his mind, and he shakes his head as he begins to dress into his uniform.

“I’ll go—”

“—straight to bed,” Tim finishes, arching one brow, daring Damian to argue.

“Drake, you do not have the authority to order me around. Do you honestly think you’re capable of bringing Grayson back alone?”

“No,” Tim admits, fiddling with the comm in his ear before pulling his attention down to his phone. “He’s too bull-headed.”

“Well, what’s your plan then, Drake?”

“I call in someone even more bull-headed.

***

Tim swallows back a flinch when Jason drops down beside him with a loud thump, having travelled by roof apparently.

“Replacement.”

“Hood,” Tim greets, matching Jason’s tone, eyes trained to the warehouse across the street.

“You sent out an SOS.”

“I did.” Tim narrows his eyes, domino moving along the sharp movement. He pulls his gaze upward until he spots a familiar tuft of dark hair peering over the edge of the roof. “You made good time.”

“Because you sent out an SOS,” Jason presses.

“Worried?” Tim asks, arching one brow, and Jason swats him hard on the back of the head.

“In your dreams, Replacement. I was hoping to come in guns a-blazing.” Jason ghosts his hands over the guns in his holsters, fingers itching for a need to shoot.

“You’ll get your chance,” Tim mutters, nodding toward the roof. “First, we have to stop this idiot.”

“This is Dick Brain’s territory,” Jason reminds Tim flatly, eyes slowly following Dick’s careful movements on the roof. “Why are we—” He stops when Tim patches an audio message that reads out Dick’s vitals, his frown deepening along each word. “Okay,” he drags out. “Point taken. What’s the plan?”

“I’m kind of making it up as I go,” Tim admits, standing from his crouch. He pulls out his grapple hook and aims it toward the edge of the roof, close to Dick’s peering face. He pulls the trigger and waits for the weightless tug.

“That’s my type of plan.”

Tim hears Jason laughing behind him as he shoots forward, going airborne, wind whipping tightly around him until he’s barrel rolling onto the roof, with Jason landing on his feet beside him mere seconds later.

Tim’s quick to dodge the sudden swing of a baton at his head, stumbling backward against Jason’s chest, and Jason’s a lot faster, reaching over Tim’s shoulder, fingers snagging Dick’s wrist mid second swing.

“Easy, dumbass. Are you trying to smash your baby bro’s head in?” Jason’s growl is deep in Tim’s ear, and Tim stills, watching carefully as it takes longer than it should for Dick’s face to fall into recognition.

“Jay…?” Dick turns to cough into the crook of his arm, harsh, grating coughs that leave Tim wincing as he pulls for another vital scan, finding Dick’s temperature tipping toward 103 degrees.

“Good to see you too, Dickie Bird.” Jason mutters, and Tim slips toward Dick, pressing a hand to his shoulder, Dick’s muscles shaking under his palm.

“Dick, you need to go back to the manor. At this rate, you’re going to need an IV.” Tim keeps his voice steady, but when Dick jerks away from him, he frowns, making to step forward only not able to when Jason wraps an annoyingly strong arm around his waist.

“Tim, don’t, you can’t…” Dick’s coughing again, and Jason’s dragging Tim backward despite Tim’s thrashing. 

“Jason, what the hell?”

“No spleen. Remember?” Jason pokes at Tim’s side, and Tim sighs loudly, slumping against Jason’s grip.

“Dick will listen to you,” Tim tries, twisting around to face Jason, mind plotting through his sporadic plan. “All he wants is to make things better between you both.” He keeps his voice quiet, studying Jason’s covered frown and narrow eyes that are glued to Dick.

“What’s happening in the warehouse?”

 “Metahuman trafficking,” Tim answers, and Jason tenses before him, just as Tim expected he would.

Tim could have taken Damian; hell, he could have made Bruce come, but Jason’s the key. Aside from the fact that Dick would drop just about anything if it means he can mend another thread of he and Jason’s frayed relationship, Tim’s also acutely aware of Jason’s violent need to protect Gotham’s youth, hitting too close to home of a damaged childhood.

There’s also, Tim thinks, the small fact that Jason will do anything for Dick, even if he’d never admit it out loud. Tim knows. Dick was, and always will be, who Jason looks up to the most.

“You play dirty,” Jason growls, catching onto Tim’s reasoning. He slips both guns from his holsters, aiming one at Dick’s forehead. “Stay here, dumbass.”

“Wait, Jay—”

“Did I stutter?” Jason bites out, cocking a brow. He waits for Dick to argue, and predictably, Dick doesn’t, instead sagging to the ground as if his legs can no longer support his weight.

“Good,” he mutters, pulling a sharp gaze to Tim. “Ready to go fuck up some motherfuckers?”

“You’re the only person who can make that sentence sound decent.” Tim brings out his bo staff, fingers tightening around it, his lips curling into a smile that almost matches the wild one Jason’s wielding.

“Ha. Guns a-blazing time?”

Nodding, Tim watches as Jason leaps off the roof, and he spares a glance to see Dick curled in on himself, shaking and coughing, before he leaps off, hoping to end this as soon as possible.

***

Tim shoots a grapple hook back up to the roof when GCPD arrives, flying forward and finding Dick asleep, face scrunched up in a clear show of pain that Tim frowns out. He takes the brief moment free of Jason’s strong grip to crouch before Dick, feeling his forehead, hand slipping down to check his pulse. His vital scan report isn’t any worse than before; however, it’s not any better either.

“Geez, Dick,” Tim mumbles under his breath, waiting for the familiar arm around his waist when Jason finally makes it up to the roof. He moves with Jason, not wishing to start a second struggle, not when Dick’s the main priority.

Jason nudges Dick with his boot, and Dick stirs under the touch, coughing sharply, a gravely groan following. “Jay…”

“He’s completely out of it,” Jason mutters, frowning, and Tim swallows back the sudden jerk of panic threatening to climb up his throat. Jason sounds worried, and that alone leaves Tim afraid.

“We should get him back. Can you…?”

“You want me to carry him all the way back to the manor?” Jason spits out, both brows arched into a high curve. “Not happening.”

“I could call Bruce,” Tim starts, forcing away the smile that wants to stretch across his lips at the narrow glare Jason shoots him. “But once I mention that you’re with me, he’ll be here in minutes. You probably won’t make it around the block before he shows up.”

Jason’s hands curl into fists at his sides. Tim holds his stare, unfazed by the sheer annoyance behind Jason’s domino, and finally, Jason breaks with a long, loud groan, turning to hoist Dick onto his back with a grunt.

“Really fucking dirty, Replacement.”

***

Alfred helps get Dick set up with an IV in med-bay, the older man working wordlessly diligently, worried but not vocalizing as much. Tim assists when needed, keeping one eye on Dick but the other on Jason, who’s been eerily silent in the corner of the room, watching, a frown etched sharply across his lips. 

“Are you going to tell Bruce?” Tim asks quietly when Alfred finishes.

“Master Bruce already knows,” Alfred informs, briefly flicking his gaze toward Jason. “Out of respect, he’ll keep his distance for a few hours.”

Tim translates in his head: Bruce doesn’t want to scare Jason off. He nods, thankful, and the second Alfred slips out of the room, he shuffles over to the bed and drops onto it, waving off the hiss of his name from Jason as he curls into Dick’s side.

“I take medicine, you know. Daily. To prevent shit.”

“Tell that to literally every single infection that’s knocked you on your ass for days since saying adios to your spleen,” Jason grunts, dragging a chair close to Dick’s bed. “Don’t expect me to play nursemaid when you get sick.”

Tim lifts his head, eyes flat. “That mere thought is going to make me sick.”

“Ditto.”

Tim whips his gaze down to see Dick blinking slowly at him, a small, lazy smile pulling at his lips. He’s faintly aware that Jason’s shot to the edge of his seat and his leaned forward, putting himself closer to the bed.

“Dick? How are you feeling?”

“Like I’m going to get you sick,” Dick grumbles, and Tim rolls his eyes, tucking himself back down against Dick’s side.

“I’ll be fine.”

“Famous last words, kid,” Jason mutters, leaning back and propping his feet onto the edge of Dick’s bed, smiling easily at the tired, yet annoyed look Dick shoots him.

“The metahumans…”

“All safe,” Jason responds, thumbing at the book resting in his lap. “GCPD’s on it.”

Dick’s face relaxes, a deep sigh releasing through parted lips. “Thank you.” He shifts, wrapping his arm around Tim’s back, pulling his brother closer to him. “Are you staying?” he asks, nodding to the book in Jason’s lap.

“Until I’m sure you aren’t taking a page out of my book.”

Dick’s eyes drag up to the ceiling, the muted weight behind Jason’s words pushing against his chest, a reminder that Jason will always process his death and resurrection, not something he can resolve. “Will you read to me?”

“What are you, ten?” Jason teases, arching a single brow, a challenge that Dick takes with an innocently large bat of his lashes.

“You won’t read to your dear, sick brother?”

“So cruel, Jay,” Tim mutters, voice edging toward sleep.

“Oh, fuck off,” Jason groans, flipping open The Hobbit. “I hate both of you.” He scans the first sentence, whipping a quick gaze back toward the two. “No interrupting. I haven’t read this yet.” He starts reading, voice lightening as he loses himself in the book, and he makes it seven pages in before he spares a glance to see Dick and Tim sleeping, faces annoyingly soft and innocent. A smile he doesn’t fight pulls at his lips, and he closes the book and nudges his chair closer to the bed until he can hunch over, pillowing his head on the edge of Dick’s bed. He’s certain his back will curse his entire being when he wakes, but for now, he’ll take the twinge of discomfort for this silent, almost vulnerable, moment with the birds…

With his brothers.

[keelywolfe]

FIC: You Had Me At Jell-O (baon)

Summary:  Edge trusts Stretch with so many things. His heart, his soul, his very life. Even his kitchen...but that might be about to change.

Tags: Spicyhoney, Established Relationship, Humor, Domestic Bliss

Notes: Thank you so much for all of you still reading! I know updates have been erratic and I haven't been as good at replying to comments as I could be, but please know I treasure each and every one. I still love these boys and I love playing in their world.

I've been missing some humor with these boys lately, please enjoy.

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

~~*~~

Read it on AO3

or

Read it here!

~~*~~

As much as Stretch still liked to joke about the quality of his cooking (some jokes never end and old comedians never die, they just can’t stand up anymore), there really wasn’t any truth to it these days. He’d truly been practicing, events of culinary destruction were behind him, and if his attempts ended at the slightly overdone end of the spectrum more often than not, they had at least firmly moved out of ‘burnt to charcoal’ territory. Reasonably edible, that was a goal that many home cooks aspired to and Stretch could take his place amongst their ranks.

In any case, it made it less unusual for Stretch to spend time in the kitchen and Edge didn’t think much of it that afternoon as he sat at his desk in the living room and worked through a little paperwork. Not until he went for another cup of coffee, his mind absently split between the newest overseas trade negotiations and delicious, liquid caffeination.

Both thoughts came to a screeching halt right along with Edge as he froze two steps inside the kitchen, hardly noticing the door swinging shut behind him. One socket twitched as he stared at the unspeakable horror that dared to take up space on his kitchen counter.

Gelatin at least he recognized. Not a favorite of his, but it was often served as a treat down at the Y. This was not like the little plastic cups with their foil lids that the Human children gobbled down. This mold was huge and round, a geometric mountain of quivering goo. The outer ring horrifically blood-red and there were…things…encased within it, unidentifiable objects entombed in a wiggly sarcophagus. Nestled into the center of the ring was a curdled white gunk that threatened to ooze from its confinement and who knew what destruction it might wreak if it escaped from its gelatinous prison.

It sat there, alone, as it glistened threateningly in the overhead lights.

“hey, babe!” Came from the other side of the kitchen as Stretch stood up from where he’d been looking in the refrigerator, slamming the door shut with a clatter of the jars and bottles within. “i see you’ve met. say hello to my little friend.”

Edge did not take his gaze away from the shimmery intruder to his once-safe kitchen as he said, slowly, “Stretch, I’m aware that you have a wide variety of friends and acquaintances from all walks of life. This is your home and you’re allowed to have guests over. But I’m afraid I must insist that none of them bring infectious diseases with them, your expertise is in physics, not viral disorders.”

“heh, yeah, but i’ve got experience in going viral, which this already is!” Stretch said gleefully. He walked over to the counter right by where the awful thing sat. Edge resisted the urge to pull him to safety. “this, my heart, is a molded gazpacho sour cream salad.”

“That is not a salad,” Edge said, decisively. On that point, he was certain. “It has none of the shape, form, or accoutrements of a salad. If it ever were a salad, it lost the right to the title after its years-long imprisonment in the back of Bela Lugosi’s pantry.”

“nope, it is definitely a salad, per my good pal the dictionary,” Stretch held up his phone with a waggle, “i checked, merriam and webster are on my side. now,” He took a pinch from the little bowl he’d gotten from the fridge, tossing a sprinkle of what Edge recognized as chopped parsley over the nightmarish concoction. So far it was the only thing in the entire dish he recognized, and he wasn’t sure if that lessened his horror or not. “my twitter groupies are waiting patiently, and not so patiently, for your opinion. whatcha got for me, babe.”

“My opinion?” Edge asked, disbelieving, “My opinion is that you discovered a plague-riddled moldsmal and brought it home for vivisection, which is incredible cruel to their family, I expect better from you.”

Stretch gave him a look of mock outrage, silent laughter shining in his eye lights. “i’ll have you know this is an actual recipe from an actual book that YOU happen to own, ‘the best served cold’ cookbook, as a matter of fact.” He slouched down to lean on the counter, dangerously close to the so-called salad as he propped his chin on one hand. “so what do you think of that?”

“I think that the publisher needs to fire their health standards committee and I need to vet my cookbooks more carefully before they can fall into your treacherous hands.”

“too late now, my hands have been alllll over it,” Stretch leered. He was nearly shaking with barely stifled laughter. “c’mon, babe! everyone is waiting.”

“Waiting?” Edge demanded, “For what, a catastrophic meltdown because if that’s happening, we need to get to a minimum safe distance immediately.”

“you only need to take a bite. one little bite.” That placating tone very nearly masked the words and understanding came with a horror all its own.

“You’re actually expecting me to taste this? Hold on.” Edge pulled out his phone and made a show of calling out, and it was a show, because they both already knew he was going to taste it. Of course he was; he’d do it with a sigh and probably plenty of regret, but he would. A single bite of some godawful presumed salad was a small price to pay for Stretch’s delight.

Stretch only sighed, shaking his head with a grin, “okay, i’ll bite, who are you calling.”

“Our life insurance company, it might be best for you if I raise the current payout.”

“seriously, i should’ve recorded this from the start, no one could deny your sense of humor anymore after watching this, funny guy.” Stretch’s grin faded, switching over to what Edge mentally dubbed his wheedling face, all wide sockets and pleading eye lights. “just one, babe, a single, solitary, teensy weensy bite, do it for—"

“Don’t you dare say this is for science,” Edge warned. “There is nothing remotely scientific about murder jello, not to mention that it goes against our strict policy of no science in the kitchen!”

“—for me,” Stretch amended smoothly. He raised one brow bone and held out a fork, “unless you’re scared.”

“If you’re trying to appeal to my pride, I’ll have you know that anyone who isn’t afraid of that is a fool or a liar.” But Edge snatched the fork away. One bite, that was all.

One.

He poked it gingerly with the fork tines and shuddered as it jiggled moistly. The petrified contents within pressed to the sides as it moved, like unholy demons trying to escape from their viscous hell. Surely Edge was not a minority in his belief that savory foods should not wobble with such gleeful irreverence. The smell was reminiscent of spoiled dog food mixed with unforgiveable sins, tied together with a hint of ketchup, and with a hasty gesture and a silent prayer, Edge tore free a small bite with his fork and ate it.

As it turned out, the only thing worse than smelling it was eating it. Edge did not gag, he sat perfectly still, focused on keeping that single bite down since the only thing worse than tasting it once would be a second, slightly used time.

“well?” Stretch prodded, phone at the ready, his thumbs hovering, preparing to transmit the verdict to the entirety of his twitter harem who were surely waiting with bated, and baited, breath. “how is it?”

Edge said nothing. He careful set the fork aside and picked up the tray, carrying it directly outside to dump it, tray and all, into the trash can, and firmly put the lid on top it lest it attempt to crawl back out from the dark plastic depths to which it had been banished.

Stretch followed him out, no longer bothering to stifle his snickers, “that good, huh?”

“I think the best word I can manage considering your character limit would be ‘memorable’,” Edge told him dryly. “If you ever attempt to murder me again, I’d appreciate a more straightforward approach. A simple knife in the back will do, there’s no need to create something that might unleash havoc on the entire town. We’ll be lucky if the trash collectors don’t quit in protest rather than empty it.”

“knew i could count on you for an honest review,” Stretch grinned. He gave the trash can a nudge with the toe of his untied sneaker, perhaps to verify that vile thing was staying down. But what he said next froze Edge down to his marrow. “welp, that’s a good start for my new weekly food review.”

“Weekly?” Edge sputtered. Apparently there was a limit to what he would do to make his husband happy and on this day, they’d finally found it, trapped within a gelatinous mass that had a taste reminiscent of a shrimp cocktail left at a nuclear testing site. “My wedding vows were for in sickness and health, I made no promises about helping you achieve internet points!”

“nah, relax, babe,” Stretch slung both arms around Edge’s shoulders and leaned in for a soft kiss, and that he didn’t immediately lurch away from the remnants that surely lingered on his breath was enough for Edge to permanently doubt his sense of taste. No wonder he didn’t like risotto. “i’m gonna have new guests every week. lotsa monsters and humans would love to help out, i just figured you’d be a good starter package.”

“Alternating people will increase your survival rates, I’m sure.” But he gave Stretch a light kiss of his own, lingering briefly, then leaning away to say sternly, “Going forward, I’d appreciate advanced warning if you’re going to use my kitchen for evil.”

“deal. c’mon, i made some actual lunch, too, it’s in the oven.” He tugged Edge along and he followed, with slightly less confidence than he might have had only ten minutes earlier, “plus, i got a great shot of your boots walking out to the trash can. your shoes are more internet famous than i am, babe.”

“Wonderful,” Edge could only sigh, “I’m glad that both my footwear and my nausea could be of service.” This was what he’d set himself up for when he’d married Stretch, a lifetimes’ worth of it, richer, poorer, sickness and health, in gelatin molds and the slightly overcooked tuna melts freshly pulled from the oven. All of it, for the rest of his life.

He couldn’t wait to see what happened next.

-finis-

[redrobin-detective]

why is conversations with a cryptid 'stunningly good'? ~anon

I freaking love Conversations with a Cryptid and I have so many feelings and I'm trying to articulate for a comment and alllll the theories. And then there's the knowledge that Izuku isn't right about everything so we have to try and figure out where he has gone wrong. And there's so many details that may or may not mean anything like the fact he's been sick for so long like is it stress or something else? And the cliff hanger from this chapter ahhhhhhhhh @tabletoptime

*asks you about it* @loxare

Ask box is still broken so I must resort to a new text post.

Conversations with A Cryptid by AMournfulHowlInTheNight is a BNHA/MHA AU story where Izuku begins having weekly sessions with All For One (AFO) following his capture. It's such a simple concept but it's done so well.

First off, Izuku's analytical skills are given their due and there's some fascinating meta on AFO and quirks that wrapped elegantly into the story. It allows Izuku's brain to take center stage which isn't something you see a lot in fanfiction.

Second, AFO isn't so much a person in the little we see of him in the manga so much as an entity of evil. Conversations really brings him to life, gives him a personality (albeit a cunning, sadistic one) and makes him a believable villain who truly believes the ends justify the means. There are several times where, despite admitting to murder, human experimentation, kidnapping etc, that I find myself sympathizing with his ideals. As a villain and a person, he is done immensely well.

Third, though the story is really about Izuku's meetings with AFO, it's not the entire story. We catch glimpses of his life at UA, in his dealing with All Might, with his outside investigations in AFO's activities. The glimpses we catch of the rest of class 1-A, All Might, Tsukauchi and Inko are all in character and really put this story in context. You really get the understanding that though the story IS these meetings, it's only a small part of Izuku's life. Izuku himself is incredibly well written, being more sassy and stern then usual because a) this isn't him in a normal setting and b) it becomes increasingly clear the boy is overworking himself and becomes more tired and snappish as the story progresses.

Fourth, so about halfway through the story, you'll get an idea and think "would it be interesting if they're hinting at this?" More little clues pop out and you think about it a little more. As the clues mount up and become more obvious, it goes from an idea to a certainty. And by that time all hell breaks loose. It's dramatic irony at it's finest where you KNOW damn well what's going on but Izuku and the rest of the cast keep missing the obvious. The last few chapters all but strangle you with the obvious tension of avoiding the elephant in the room as you scream about how they could be missing the obvious conclusion. The last three chapters have involved me screaming because the tension will not stop and some of the dialogue is dripping with hints and miscommunication as there's basically two or more interpretations to each sentence. I shan't spoil since discovering it is half the fun but it's such a wild ride and well worth the journey.

If you like boku no hero academia/my hero academia in any way I certainly recommend it. Even if you don't really like the series, the story is so well done that it doesn't really matter. The story pretty much explains itself as he gently leads you along before going from gentle teasers to punching you in the face. And you'll be thanking them .

[foslad]

Almost Too Good (A Chris Evans Story): Part 16

A/N: Back with a slow burning long chapterrrr. But hopefully the little flame at the end is enough to make up for HOW LONG IT’S BEEN! I’m so grateful to each and everyone of you that continue to be here and read this story! It doesn’t go unnoticed!! Love love love!

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The morning after my little “shower date” with Chris, I predictably woke up with a little pep in my step. The feeling of his hands breezing across my wet skin had stayed with me long into my dreams and I felt a certain contentment as I got ready for work the next day.

It was set to be a long day but it was made decidedly better when, soon after I arrived at the studio, Chris texted and offered to stop by during my lunch break.

“I have a takeout sandwich place in mind with your name on it Warner.”

As my makeup was being applied for the day, I felt my heart swell a little at the idea of him making room for me. I was well aware his trip to LA wasn’t an intentional stop just to see me; he had other things to do besides.

As the day wore on, I’d catch myself between takes sending him little texts here and there. I just couldn’t help myself.

Given the fact I only had roughly around an hour for lunch, my trailer was deemed the most appropriate meeting point. 

When I finished up my scene a touch early, I excitedly rushed back to my little refuge to tidy up and make sure everything was presentable for when my visitor got here. I phoned down to the gate of the studio to let them know I was expecting someone and then set about fluffing the pillows for the millionth time.

When the inevitable *knock, knock, knock* came, my body flew into a slurry of hair swoops, deep breaths and butterflies.

How? How, after all this time, was he still eliciting this kind of reaction from me!?

-

As we sat there, indulging in both our meals and each other’s company, I had decided a few minutes ago that now was as good a time as any to fill him in on Amy’s absence.

‘You’re kidding? Both arms!?’ His mouth fell open as he stared at me in horror.

‘I wish! Two clean breaks.’ I shuddered at the very thought of it all. ‘The doctor said he was lucky to even be alive because the impact had been so hard. If I remember what Amy’s mom said correctly, the driver actually turned himself in because he was convinced he’d killed him.’

‘Jesus, that’s awful!’ Chris recoiled. ‘Your assistant must’ve been devastated.’ He paused and thought about it for a second. ‘Or, relieved I guess...’

‘Mostly relieved. They’ve been together eight years now, I think she would’ve reached the point of no return if she’d lost him.’

‘Well it was nice of you to give her the time off.’ He commented as he ducked down to let Dodger off his leash to go and inspect the room. It wasn’t a giant trailer, just enough for a vanity, seating area with a table (that Chris and I were now sat opposite each other on), a railing for my wardrobe choices for that day and then a small bathroom. However, it was enough by means of exploration to the pup and he happily set off to wander the unfamiliar territory.

‘Are you kidding me? Amy’s practically family, I’d do anything for her!’ I took another bite of the delicious sandwich Chris had brought me and hummed in approval.

‘Are you struggling?’ He asked as a he took a sip of his water. ‘Without her?’

‘A little.’ I admitted with a small shrug. ‘I have work until five, which in Ben terms means eight, and then I have to run through my questions for this upcoming Vogue project I’m doing. So that means my weekend will most likely be spent catching up on bits like getting my dry cleaning, going to my PO box, grocery shopping - the boring things that Amy would normally do I guess. I think I have a promotional interview for Gucci on Saturday but I’m not a hundred percent, so I’ll have to double check that…’

Talking about my daily tasks was enough to bore Dodger, who had found a spot under my vanity table to curl up and nap in, never mind the actual humans in the room.

‘Anyways, enough about me and my pretentious needs.’ I set my sandwich down and waved my hands in the air, as if that would help get rid of the lame atmosphere I’d created. ‘How have you been? I feel like we didn’t get a chance to talk properly yesterday.’

Shifting in his chair, Chris seemed uncomfortable to have had the baton passed to him and he simply reached up and fiddled with his baseball cap instead. I could tell he was holding back on something and that, for whatever reason, my to-do list had affected him in a way I couldn’t read. I reached across and gave him a little nudge with my knee to bring him back down to reality.

‘You okay?’

‘Oh yeah, I’m fine. Alllll good.’

I raised my eyebrow at him, unconvinced.

He couldn’t avoid my gaze forever and eventually he heaved a sigh as he calculated what to say.

‘Look, Adrian,’ he started eventually, ‘I’ve been thinking about it all morning and I just wanted to say that... I’m sorry about last night.’

I creased my forehead in confusion, ‘What? Why?’ I certainly wasn’t sorry about it…

‘Well for starters, I told you’d I’d give you some space to think things through, and last night I disregarded that promise, to say the least.’

I let a silence fall over us as I soaked in his words. No, no, no, this wasn’t how this conversation was supposed to pan out!

‘And I feel like I crossed a line. We said we’d feel things out as friends first for a while, you know? Now isn’t exactly ideal timing for either of us, clearly.’

‘Are you saying you regret it?’ I folded my arms, unable to hide my unimpressed stance at his sudden change of heart.

‘No.’ He answered without missing a beat. ‘I’m not saying that at all.’ He paused before asking, hesitantly. ‘Why, do you?’

‘No?’ Despite my matching answer, I was suddenly left feeling a little exposed by his one step forward, two steps back approach. I mean technically yes, it wasn’t ideal in terms of the fact we were based in different states at the moment but what’s new about that? It’s how it’s always been!

He nodded his head at my reply before turning away and picking up his sandwich, taking another bite.

Uhhhhh, this conversation isn’t over?

My eyes bore into him as I waited for him to say something that would make me feel a little better about the situation than I did right now. Surely, he couldn’t say something like that and then just leave the topic up in the air like this?

When a minute or so had passed, I felt like a deflated beach ball ready to pop. As I opened my mouth fully ready to protest his hot and cold behavior, I found myself stopped in my tracks at the sound of a knock on my trailer door. The firm strikes provoked a once peaceful Dodger to start barking.

‘Come in.’ I called, despite not taking my eyes off of a somewhat guilty looking Chris.

‘Hey hey, only me.’ Ben’s friendly voice resounded and I found myself slapping on a fake smile as he came into view.

Although Ben seemed initially bewildered to see him, I continued to sit on the couch as I watched he and Chris greet one another. Unbeknownst to me, they were apparently long-time-no-see kinda pals.

I wasn’t even aware they knew each other? Must be a Boston thing.

After a brief man hug, I inwardly cringed as Ben eyed us back and forth.

‘I didn’t know you two.. knew each other?’ His tone was anything but subtle.

‘I could say the same for you.’ I piped up, ‘What’s up?’

I was desperately willing the conversation away from the obvious question of why Chris Evans was in my trailer. Considering I wasn’t best pleased with Mr Evans at this present moment, I didn’t feel like divulging what we were exactly because embarrassingly, right now I had no clue as to the actual answer to that.

‘I’m in a fuck it mood. Mona’s stuck in Atlanta, the power in the studio keeps cutting out because of some sort of damage from last night’s rain, Ryan’s called in sick and since he was in most of the shots I wanted to get done, I’ve decided I’m just gonna cancel shooting for the rest of today.’

‘Really?’ I asked, wholly surprised. ‘You don’t wanna run something else?’

‘Honestly, I’m so fucking stressed right now, I think we could all use having the rest of the day off.’ He declared boldly. I nodded in sympathy, well aware of the “over-budget” issues we’d been having on top of everything else.

After seeing that I was okay with the cancellation, Ben’s eyes then went back to Chris. ‘Hey, uh, you still living over in Hollywood?’

Shaking his head, Chis replied kindly. ‘Nah, I’m a Los Feliz man now.’

‘Sweet. Listen, if you got time, you wanna grab a drink later?’ Ben asked. His voice cracked in an almost pleading note. In fairness, my heart broke for him really. Not only was the film tipping over budget, he was also going through a hard time in his personal life and clearly little things like a drink with a familiar face gave him a lot of pleasure these days.

‘Uhh..’ Chris folded his arms as he “mulled” over his reply. I felt a slight hint of satisfaction when I caught his eyes quickly flutter over to meet my own as a means of deducing how pissed I would be if he ditched me to go drinking with my boss. Unsurprisingly, the answer was very.

Not one to miss a beat, I admired Ben for quickly noting Chris’ reluctance and the sudden tension it was causing between us. With a quick cough, he inquired ‘You’re coming too, right Adrian?’

Once again, a pair of blue eyes flew over to my direction.

Well, if Mr Friendship wants to play, then two could play the game.

‘Sure.’ I replied nonchalantly. ‘I could do with a drink.’

‘So, uh, where were you thinking?’ Chris asked, clearly a little taken aback that I’d been the one to accept Ben’s offer.

‘My buddies got this bar over on Vine Street, Roamers.’ He reached into his pocket and conferred with Chris whether he still had the correct number for him. ‘I’ll drop you guys the address and catch you later then. 9ish?’ His eyes flung from Chris’ then over to mine and back.

‘Great.’ I smiled wide at them both.

Let’s the games begin.

-

We had parted ways at the studio to allow time to get changed into appropriate attire and have some dinner with the promise of meeting at the bar at around nine-ish. I had never been before nor did I know where the place was, so when both Chris and Ben offered me a ride with them, I happily accepted the Affleck option whilst throwing a smug smile Chris’ way.

I rifled through the rack wardrobe that was built into my rented apartment’s wall and sighed in confusion. What even was that earlier? Last night had been so… incredible in my eyes. The way we just threw all inhibitions out of the window just to be close to one another again. The fact that I, ME OF ALL PEOPLE, was willing to be so intimate with a guy was shocking. I mean, we hadn’t gone beyond kissing and a bit of heavy petting, but that was a big deal in my books!

And now it was back to the friendship circle!?

Fuck. That.

I had pushed passed it a couple of times, but the leather Givenchy skirt I had received as PR mail about a week ago was practically screaming at me to be worn. Partnered with a loose black vest that I could tuck in at the front and a pair of my trusty Loubs’, I was happy that it wasn’t too flashy but at the same time, I silently hoped it was just enough to tease a “friendship” into action.

With a good few hours to spare before Ben and his driver were due to collect me, I felt like I needed some reassurance from an outside perspective. I realized I hadn’t spoken to Amanda in what felt like forever and so, as I took my outfit over to the bed to inspect it, I decided to give her a buzz.

‘HEY BABY! I HAVE YOU ON LOADSPEAKER A SEC, I’M JUST WAXING MY LEGS.’

It made me snicker how those words didn’t even seem that absurd coming from Amanda.

‘Big plans tonight?’

‘It’s my boss Richard’s birthday and he’s invited all of the staff to this fancy soiree over at The Ivy.’

‘Is that the place my parents went for their anniversary last year?’ I asked as I wandered towards the kitchen and opened the fridge. Grabbing two water bottles then shutting the door with my hip and wandering over to the coach, I placed one in my gym bag for the workout I was about to do and unscrewed the other.

‘Yep.’ She replied before she let out a few curse words in response to what I imagine was the rip off of a wax strip.

‘Mandy, if I ask you a question, do you promise not to judge me?’ I inquired hesitantly.

‘Adrian, who do you think I am?’ Her voice grew closer until I could tell I was no longer on loudspeaker. ‘Let me just pour myself another pre-drink and you can fire away.’

‘You’re pre-drinking.. by yourself? At 4:00 in the afternoon?’

‘Uhhh, have you seen the prices of drinks at this place!? No thank you! Besides, I might be on a budget but I need my buzz to be able to socialize with these people in my free time!’

‘Fair point, no judgment.’ I surrendered.

‘Speaking of no judgement,’ I could hear her take a sip, ‘hit me up with ya problem. I ain’t got all night.’ She goaded lightly.

I felt embarrassed to be asking this but I knew I needed to get it out. I took a deep breath and centered myself.

‘Mandy, do you think a person can be… bad… at sex?’

It didn’t take her long to answer.

‘Meh, depends. If we’re talking about a guy here, then yes. If we’re talking about a woman, then, eh, not really, unless you lay there like a dead fish. If we’re talking about you here, then what would even make you think that?’

‘I don’t know. I guess,’ I switched the phone to the other ear and slid myself down onto the carpet and crossed my legs, ‘the whole Alex thing really messed up my confidence in that department, you know?’

‘Oh fuck that Adrian. I’ll die before I let your confidence be dampened by that blob and his side salad. You know, I once stalked interviews with her and she has the personality of a chalk board...’

‘And he’d rather have had sex with her!’ I argued back, taking a swig of my water in minor depression, silently wishing it was as strong as Amanda’s drink.

‘Whatever! Didn’t you tell me you once fell asleep during sex?’ She recalled, much to my total embarrassment. I had confessed it to her the week after I caught him cheating. Sex with Alex wasn’t exactly a highlight for me and my own pleasure wasn’t exactly a highlight for him. I could count on one hand how many times I’d actually finished during the seven years we were together. I had always assumed that sex was just more pleasurable for men in general… Besides, I had been so blindly in love with him for so long, it felt like it didn’t even matter.

‘I’m not gonna lie to you Adrian, I fully believe that affair was a gift from God.’ I rolled my eyes and despite it being a noiseless action, it was like she had heard me. ‘Hear me out! Alex was an asshole disguised as a bleached haven. The very nerve of him to find that pig-nosed sex doll more appealing than you shows exactly how much his mercury levels were off by.’

Oh yeah, Mandy had definitely had a pre or two.

This very conversation had been on replay over the past year with not only Amanda, but everyone from Amy to my Mom to my sisters - all trying their best to convince me that I was better than her. Yet, she was the one he wanted to be with.

I had never been with anyone other than Alex, I wasn’t even sure I was capable of being intimate with anyone else. Until I met Chris, I guess…

‘Why do you ask, anyways?’ Amanda asked after I failed to reply.

‘I want no squealing, no excitement, no anything! Just some listening ears and then maybe a round of advice, okay?’ I warned.

‘No promises, but okay….’

‘I saw Chris last night..’ A hint of an ‘oooo’ could be heard from her side, but I chose to ignore it as I clarified. ‘It was just dinner, it wasn’t meant to be a thing or anything! And then yadayada, something about his dog, we’re suddenly back at his, right? So long story short, he got wet in the rain, I laughed, he got revenge by pushing me into his shower, we kissed, we went to his room, we kissed some more, I got my bra out, we fooled around, he stops us because “he’s too cold” and then he drops me back at mine. All is well. So then cut to today and HE JUST WANTS TO BE FRIENDS AGAIN!?’

I couldn’t hide my frustration at all. ‘Like, am I really that bad at this kind of thing!?’

‘Adrian that’s foolish talk.’

‘WELL, he’s had some pretty hot women in his time! What if it was a test drive and I wasn’t appealing to him or something…’

‘Orrr maybe he doesn’t really wanna be just friends right now but he’s holding back so you won’t freak out again?’

‘Or maybe I’m just a dead fish.’ I whined. ‘I mean, only I could friend zone myself by actually trying to be sexy.’

‘But you ARE sexy, you just also happen to be unbelievably harsh on yourself. WHAT HAPPENED WITH ALEX WASN’T YOUR FAULT! HOW MANY TIMES MUST WE TELL YOU!’

I picked away at the fluff on the carpet sadly.

‘I’ll be honest, because when am I not… you’re clearly still sensitive about all this drama that’s happened in your life and truthfully, you’re not amazing at hiding it. So maybe he just doesn’t wanna rush you…’

I sighed as she spoke, willing with all my might for her to be right. 

‘And maybe his dick really was cold.’

-

Roamers was… unique, to say the least. It wasn’t at all what I was expecting. Through the darkness I could see it was small, overloaded with people and completely doused in the cigarette smoke from out back to the point where breathing was irrelevant. I followed Ben through the crowds of people and saw he was making his way to a spot at the back. I felt a little out of my depth and almost immediately regretted my outfit choice. Judging by the looks I was getting, the combination didn’t exactly look terrible on me and that’s what made me afraid.

It wasn’t long before Ben was stopped by a face that was familiar to him and a conversation was quickly struck up about last Sunday’s football game.

My knees began to bob as I stood beside him like a larry, my eyes aimlessly trawling around to see if I could spot Chris in the crowd. Ben had slyly made his inquires in the car on the way over here if Chris and I were dating (or anything along those lines) and, much to my own discomfort, I told him exactly what we were at this point. Just friends.

As annoyed as I was with the situation, right now I’d give anything to lock eyes with Friendy McFriend-Friend. Instead, I made the mistake of locking eyes with a long haired random who looked a little over-friendly, to be frank. I quickly removed my eyes and brought my attention down to my phone, hoping he wouldn’t come over and try and talk to me or anything.

By means of distraction, and just because I thought it was funny, I set about changing Chris’ name in my phone to just that. Friendy McFriend-Friend.

‘Hey good-lookin.’ My eyes shot up and I inwardly groaned as they were met with the long haired random. Oh God.

‘Want a little pick me up?’ It was then I noticed the blood shot eyes and the bold smile that I knew that meant it was time to go.

‘I’m good, thank you though!’ I replied politely and began to move off in the opposite direction in a rush. I could always just find Ben later.

‘You know where to find me if you change your mind princess!’ He called after me and I could fully feel my dinner wanting to make a reappearance.

The further I made my way into the venue, the more I realized that it wasn’t so much a druggy place as much as it just had a dodgy vibe to it. I really didn’t feel comfortable being alone anymore and I began to contemplate my minuscule knowledge of LA. Was this part of town dodgy?

Eventually, I reached greener pastures. And by greener pastures, I mean the garden area where people looked a lot less hazy and a bit more alive. I began to recognize familiar faces from the crew as I passed and I could feel myself starting to calm down. Clearly we weren’t the only ones Ben had extended the invitation to.

As I stood with a couple of the sound guys, delighted with the company, I decided I couldn’t take it anymore. Where was Chris?

A: Are you still coming?

Friendy McFriend-Friend: Yeah, I won’t be long. Scott is tagging along. Just waiting for him to finish getting ready then we’ll be out the door.

-

An hour later there was still no sign of Chris, but there had been a few sightings of a couple of Bellini’s . I wasn’t drunk by any means, but my shoulders had finally started to relax at the very least.

Eventually, a surprisingly tipsy Ben bombed over to me and put his arm around my shoulder before bending down sloppily and talking loudly into my ear so he could be heard over the music. ‘I’ll be honest, and I know, don’t hate me, but I got a buddy who I know you’d get along great with...’

Of course.

‘What? Ben, no, no. I appreciate the gesture.. really I do! But I’m just not looking to date anyone right now.’ Obviously a lie but hey-ho, desperate times call for desperate measures.

‘Hey, I can respect that.’ He pulled his hand off of my shoulder to rest it on his heart, as if he were swearing an oath of understanding before leaning back down. ‘Bu’ listen, just do me a favor on this one. You don’t have to go bowling with the guy, or make daisy chains or any bullshit like that. Just talk to him for me, would’ya? I’d really appreciate it A.’

I cocked my brow. A? That was a new one.

He took my hand and stopped us in the middle of a crowd of people and used the hand he was carrying his beer in to point out who he was talking about.

Over on the other side, all alone, glued to his phone, stood a seemingly tall (he was slouched against the garden wall so it was hard to tell), dark haired, olive skinned… good looking guy – with a face as miserable as sin.

‘His names Michael, he does my taxes…’

It was then I looked up at him as though he’d lost the plot. Why would he think I’d want to pick daisy chains with his accountant? My parents had always warned me about being with people that either worked with food or money, they weren’t to be trusted apparently.

‘He’s a nice guy, I promise you. It’ll be real quick, c’mon.’ He signaled for me to follow him as he made his way over. I sighed heavily before swallowing my pride, deeming it not wise to disobey my current boss. I reluctantly followed behind, quickly stealing a shot of tequila off of a passing bartender with a few scattered on a tray. I’d managed to down it and shake off the aftermath by the time Ben had begun the introductions.

‘Get off the phone Mikey, whassa’ matter with you? It’s a party!’ He slapped him on the back in comradery and the money man humoured him with a forced smile as he tried to act like Ben’s pat wasn’t going to leave a bruise.

‘So this is my friend from the movie I was telling you about.’ He announced, with a tone as though he was spelling it out for him that I was a single female that he should interact with – much to my annoyance. I’m right here Ben… literally right here pal! I smiled nonetheless, not wanting to be rude and held my hand out to him.

‘Hi, Adrian, nice to meet you.’ I smiled.

‘Michael.’ He replied, a smile forming on his own face although it was obvious he felt as awkward as I did.

‘I’m gonna go and see if I can hunt down a buddy of mine. I’ll see you kids in a while, alright?’ Ben walked away beaming, as though he’d just done us both the biggest Cavour. I closed my eyes for a brief second, lamenting on how this wasn’t what I had envisioned for my big night out.

Although, they didn’t stay shut for long…

‘I don’t have the heart to tell him I’m gay.’ My head jerked towards Michael. He held a complete blase tone as he watched Ben disappear into the crowd.

I smiled wide and a shocked little laugh escaped. ‘Well, I certainly wasn’t expecting that outcome.’

‘Sorry baby, but if it’s romance you want, you’re barking up the wrong tree.’ He admitted. He stood away from the wall and dug his hands into his jacket pocket, looking for something before pulling out a pack of cigarettes.

‘Honestly, I can’t tell you how happy that makes me to hear you say that. Romance is pretty much the last thing I’m looking for right now.’ I joined him in leaning against the wall as I bit my lip in concern at how easily these lies were spilling out of my mouth.

‘I fucking hate Ben’s “get together’s”. They’re so, manish. It’s like a fraternity up in here. The man’s in his forties for Christ’s sake!’ He remarked as he lit up a cigarette, but not before offering me one. I shook my head no and he shrugged his shoulders. ‘Truth be told, it’s the manish types I like – so I come. There’s no gain without the pain.’

I nodded, aware now that my life had sunk so low as to be the kind of girl you introduce to your closeted gay friend.

‘So what’s your sob story? Why is Ben trying to hook you up with his accountant when you could probably have your pick of any James Dean type?’ He blew smoke out and sized me up, trying to seek out any visible flaws.

‘I was lured here under the false impression of Ben not having many friends to hang out with in LA.’ I explained. ‘And I wanted to see the night life out here, I suppose, and maybe make some new friends. I live in New York.’

‘What do you need to make friends for? I’ve seen your movies, you gotta have people crawling out of the woodwork.’

‘Not the case.’ It was almost laughable how many acquaintances I had and yet zero friendships to show for it. ‘It’s actually kind of the opposite.’

‘You work in the movie business but you don’t know anyone in LA?’

I squinted my eyes, thinking about how to word myself. ‘Well… I know a couple of people, but not ones I’d feel comfortable reaching out to. I mean, there is one guy I guess. Actually, he should be here soon.’ I turned around and stepped up onto my tiptoes to scout if Chris was here yet or not. Jeez, how long did Scott need!?

He nodded knowingly. ‘Is he a squeeze?’

‘He’s a… friend, I guess.’

‘A friend-friend, or a “frriieeennddd”?’ He inquired with a smirk before taking a long drag of his smoke.

‘Kinda… sorta, somewhere in between.’ I replied uncomfortably, turning back around and scouring the room in hopes of now spotting the woman with drinks tray, ‘we were long distance, but it wasn’t anything... too serious. I guess.. I’m not sure.’

‘I don’t have anywhere to be.’ He leaned back against the wall again as though to signal he wanted to hear the details.

And for whatever reason, I decided to tell him.

-

As the night wore on, and the drinks Michael and I began to consume doubled, I realized two things. One: that I truly had to thank Ben, because I really was gaining a friend in Michael. And two: That very same Ben was a con artist disguised as an actor.

Michael and I had laughed and laughed as we watched the apparently troubled guy bloom into the social butterfly that he really is and hit on about four girl’s half his age with much success.

It was mid laugh that I felt the shivers. Cascading up and down my spine as though the nerve itself knew exactly when it was being watched.

The wires connected for Michael and he raised his eyebrows as he watched me shut my eyes. ‘Which one is he?’

‘Hmm?’ I replied, unwilling to open them.

‘Which one? Is he inside?’ I took a deep breath and slowly turned around.

It was like heat seeking missile, it took all of two seconds for my eyes to find him. Even in my annoyed state, he still caused my breathing to hitch and my heart to beat a little faster.

‘He’s the one wearing the grey t-shirt with the dark blue leather jacket over it.’ I told him whilst alarmingly finding it difficult to take my eyes off of him. From my spot, I could see him at the bar with Josh and a few others, standing there looking a little lost as the others were laughing and talking away. How long had they been here!? I bent down to see if i’d missed any messages and felt a little hurt when saw that there were none.

Eventually, the moment dawned on sweet Michael.

‘Chris Evans!? That’s your “friend”?’ He asked in surprise. ‘Oh baby, I’d be upset too if I were you!’

I finally pulled my eyes away to look at him unimpressed as he gazed over at Chris adoringly.

‘Should I go over there?’ I asked Michael.

He was mid sip but immediately pulled his glass away. ‘Mmm-mm honey, no.’ He wiped his mouth. ‘You make him come to you.’

My heart sagged and the lump in my throat grew as I watched him. I pathetically began to crave Chris’ attention as though he were a soothing cream to some sort of itch.

‘You wanna play a game?’

I looked at Michael funny. ‘What kind of game?’

‘Well… maybe all you need to kick this “friendship” rut in the ass is a little jealousy. Tell me, if he saw you with another guy, would it cause a reaction?’ Part of me didn’t know if it would or not. ‘Because you have a somewhat closeted gay man right here for hire if you’d like.’

I smiled at him, genuinely touched. ‘You’re sweet, but I really don’t wanna ruin things or make an idiot of myself.’

‘Say no more. Marie!’ He called to a barmaid who was carrying an empty tray. ‘Two Manhattans!’ She nodded and quickly moved off. He then grabbed two chairs from behind him and signaled for me to sit down.

‘Come. Sit closer. Tell me all about your fabulous New York City life and the fabulous men it’s home to!’

Within seconds, he scooted his chair closer to mine, left his hand on my shoulder and launched his head back in laughter as though i’d just told a real thigh slapper.

The gesture took both myself and the others around us by surprise, but I could tell exactly what he was trying to do. He quickly leant his head in to my ear to whisper friendly nothings, although the gesture seemed intimate in most cases.

‘Listen to this. One time, I was at a very conservative parent’s house - you know, the kind who don’t know their son is gay? So when his dad asked me what I do for a living, apparently “your son” wasn’t the ideal answer.’ Came his dead pan whisper.

My eyes widened and I couldn’t stop the uncontrollable laughter that erupted from me. That was the most absurd story I’d ever heard in my life. ‘Oh. My. God.’ I managed through each laugh.

A few more stories from Michael and by the end of it, I physically couldn’t stop myself from falling back into my chair. His hand had moved from my shoulder to my knee and for the first time in a while, I felt so carefree. I hadn’t laughed like that in years. I had almost entirely forgotten what the purpose of all of it was until finally Michael leant back and said:

‘Mission accomplished.’

Still chuckling, I looked at him confused - saddened that he had stopped making me laugh. ‘Mission, what?’

‘Adrian?’

It was Scott. And a very hard to read Chris in tow. And then a few others that I didn’t recognize.

‘Hey, there you are!’ I smiled as I stood up to hug him in greeting. ‘I’ve been waiting for you.’

‘I know, I know, but moment of silence for the Chanel shirt I completely ruined by spilling cologne all down the front.’

‘NO.’ I scoffed in horror.

‘YES.’ He scoffed back.

As nice as it was to see Scott again, my eyes automatically diverted to his older brother, standing behind him, drink in hand, looking more than a little unimpressed.

Even still. So handsome. So, so handsome.

‘Would you guys like to join us?’ Michael’s voiced had changed. It was deeper and manlier, like how he had spoken to Ben earlier. I looked over and was met with a smile that screamed “trust me” by him. I bit my lip in anticipation for where this “game” could go.

I didn’t want to be petty. I had no right to be petty. I just wanted him to want me, you know?

Chris still hadn’t said a word but I could feel his gaze on me as I introduced the group to Michael. We all sat down and I watched as his jaw tightened with every word that spilled out of Michael’s charismatic mouth. He wasn’t even subtle in the way he sized him up, inwardly attempting to deduce whether or not this guy was a threat.

-

My eyes shone as I watched Michael and Scott discuss politics… or something. Most of Chris’ entourage had dispersed and just the four of us were now left. I knew the jig was up the second the two handsome gents in front of us started trading barbs on each other’s gym techniques and all the while, unbeknownst to them, flirting outrageously with one another.

Leaning over, his own eyes fixated on his brother and the handsome stranger, Chris whispered. ‘He’s gay, isn’t he?’

Taking a sip of my drink, I nodded slyly in victory. Chris blew out a breath of air and started to laugh as he reached his hand up and rubbed his eyes.

‘Why, was there a problem Evans?’ I asked smugly, letting my head rest on my fist and my eyelashes flutter away.

He pulled his hand away and simply started shaking his head at me with that goofy smile on his face. 

I licked my lips before sipping my drink again. Triumph flowing through my veins as he reached over and squeezed my knee affectionately.

-

We gave Michael and Scott another ten minutes or so before we decided to just leave them to it.

As we walked towards the awaiting car service in the parking lot out back, I could feel the fuzziness return as Chris draped his jacket over me and swung an arm around my shoulder. At least this was progress from the last time he’d offered me his jacket…

Despite loving it, the alcohol in my system decided to speak my mind for me.

‘You confuse me.’

He looked down at me and observed me curiously. ‘Likewise... you really had me thinking Fabio back there was in with a chance!’

‘I think you’re more confusing than me!’ I declared, pulling away slightly to look up at him.

‘Ahh, come on Adrian, cut me some slack here!’ He stated with a slightly dry laugh. ‘I’m the one trying to find the right balance between “respecting” your space and at the same time desperately wanting to invade it.’

-

As we entered his house, the air between us was thick. I knew it and I knew that he knew it. The car ride over here had been relatively silent for fear we’d say the wrong thing that would ruin the moment. Instead my mind swirled his words around in a whirlpool.

Desperately wanting to invade it.

Desperately. He was desperate.

Flicking the light switch on next to his front door and shutting it, he immediately inquired if I wanted a drink.

‘Please.’ I responded as I slowly followed him to the kitchen, my nerves growing with each step.

I entered his kitchen for the first time since the day after his moving in party and instantly my eyes were drawn to the counter that he’d pressed me up against during our first kiss.

I’d be lying if I said there wasn’t a fire in my belly that screamed to be put out. A fire I knew by this point could only be put out by him. A fire I’d never felt before. Not even with Alex.

Leaning against the island, I watched him closely as I discarded his jacket onto the counter top. He bent down into his fridge and his eyes glinted mischievously before reaching in and pulling out a familiar bottle.

‘I mean, now seems as good a time as any, right?’ Chris questioned as he held the bottle of champagne I’d gotten him as his move-in present in one hand whilst the other filtered through a cupboard for glasses

He set two crystal glasses down onto the counter. With ease he popped the cork on the champagne, letting out a subtle ‘ahh’ as he did. The way his muscles and veins popped along with it was a divine sight to behold.

He poured a generous amount into each glass before handing me one and picking up his own and carrying both it and the bottle towards his cozy seating area.

It occurred to me then that something appeared to be missing and as we both settled onto the couch, I inquired into the obvious.

‘Where’s Dodger?’

‘He’s on a sleepover.’ He replied after taking a generous sip.

We talked casually for a while, mostly laughing about how Scott had stolen “my man”, with our knees touching and the air growing thicker by the second.

By the time we were onto our second glass of bubbly, the air was ready to choke us.

Whilst taking another sip, I could feel Chris’ eyes burning into me.

‘God, you’re sexy.’

I almost spluttered the liquid in my mouth as I moved the glass away.

‘SO sexy.’ I ridiculed the very notion, the alcohol enforcing a bit of confidence. ‘All sweaty and scruffy after a long night of basking in the company of cigarette smokers..’

‘It annoys me when you do that.’ He commented lowly, his eyes still not diverting.

He sat forward and used the remote control that was on the coffee table to turn the fire place on. It wasn’t even a subtle excuse as he drew closer me in the process.

His eyes met mine and he studied them for a while before once again taking the reins.

‘Are you saying you don’t think you’re sexy?’

I shyly shook my head without even thinking and he began to tut in response.

Our eyes grew darker under each other’s gaze and as he slowly leaned in, I found myself drawing back slightly. My voice barely above a whisper.

‘If I let you kiss me, do you promise you’ll stop with this whole “just friends” thing?’

He paused to think about it before whispering, ‘Do you promise you’ll learn to trust me?’

Our pupils began bouncing off of one other as a silent agreement was made. He leaned in slowly as both our eyes put up a fight until the very last second; ending in a kiss that spoke volumes as it sounded off into the silence.

Before I knew it, my back hit his couch cushions with a light ‘puff’ and I could hear myself swallow. Chris leaned down next to me and began to lightly drag his fingertips along any piece of skin I had on display, leaving goosebumps in his tracks.

After a lengthy sweep, his hands began to caress my inner thighs. ‘Can I… show you... how sexy I find you?’

I quickly noticed his body attempt to shift downwards and the words blurted out before I could even think them through.

‘I’m really not much of an… “oral” kinda girl.’

My hands flew to my mouth and covered them in shock. Had I really just said that!?

He paused and his head drew close to the exposed skin of my upper chest. I felt my body shiver as he placed a delicate kiss in between my cleavage. His fingers lightly squeezed the skin on my inner thigh.

‘That’s okay, I can think of other ways…’ he hummed before leaning down and placing more kisses.

For around five seconds, I was sure I was legally dead. Deceased. Gone. Finished.

‘Okay.’ I caved quietly.

I couldn’t believe how liberal I was being. As I recall, just yesterday I was moaning to Amanda about my fear of being intimate again and now, as the clock approached 2:00am, I was a loosey goosey after only a few glasses of alcohol.

He stopped kissing me long enough to look up and deep into my eyes. ‘Yeah?’

This time I simply nodded, words now escaping me.

Reaching up and kissing me firmly, he smiled into the kiss and I couldn’t stop myself from smiling back.

I had just about melted into his lips when I felt him make contact with the fabric of my underwear. I jolted into the kiss and almost instantly, my hands were on the defense.

Unwilling to let me stop this progress, his lips continued to dominate mine as a distraction whilst his hand pushed my own away.

He once again reached down and touched the fabric, only this time with pressure as he introduced a slow rubbing movement. Up and down. Back and forth.

My banished hand moved from my thigh to the back of his head as our kiss deepened in sync with his movements.

When he finally drew the fabric to one side and made contact with my sensitive heat I pulled away from the kiss, laying my head down onto the cushion and shutting my eyes as the reality of what was happening set in.

Undeterred, his lips set to work on my neck as his hand went about familiarizing itself with my most intimate area.

My mind was racing at a million miles per hour, arguing with itself about the possibility of stopping it and just plain letting it continue. My hand traveled down his hard chest and I couldn’t stop myself as I reached under his shirt and began to feel how much of a muscle man he really was. Because he was. In every way. Such a man.

‘Chris.’ I murmured. He didn’t reply.

Instead, he smacked his lips back down onto mine as he continued his rhythm.

My back began to arch and my knees began to buckle, every single muscle began to shake as it basked in the pleasure of the moment he was creating.

‘I-’

My eyes peeled open for a split second before shutting again as pure ecstasy took over.

‘You.’ Chris whispered between heavy breaths. ‘Are. So...’ He trailed off as he himself basked in the newfound intimacy he was producing between us.

My hands reached overhead, gripping the side of his sofa for dear life.

Moments blended into one another as my mind struggled to wrap itself around the logistics of it all. I no longer had a sense of time.

My mind clouded with visions of heaven as my body shuddered, becoming completely engulfed in warmth, like a rapid avalanche cascading over each and every inch of me.

‘Ooowwwhhhh!’ I managed, barely.

I panted for a few moments, basking in the euphoria that had just taken place. Chris continued to trail sweet kisses along my jaw and eventually, when our eyes met, they swore an oath to one another.

‘Fuck being friends?’ He whispered it aloud with a knowingly smug smile.

‘FUCK. BEING. FRIENDS.’ I shouted with glee, pulling his lips down onto my own as a firm confirmation.

----------------------------------------------------

A/N: If you made it to the end of this long one then thank you, I LOVE YOU!! 

Things are starting to get serious between our two reluctant lovebirds....