#turns out the disability isn’t my fault funny how that works huh

[kyngsnake]

Throughout this upcoming year I’d really like to sort out what exactly is going on with my weird little body. Because I have a funny feeling the EDS and unusual hormone balances aren’t conveniently unrelated.

[teaboot]

Not to be that person but if someone doesn't want to date anyone, for whatever reason, they don't have to, you're not discriminating against anyone because they happen to not be part of your dating pool as far as you respect their rights and identities

Bluuuuuuuuh okay so this may or may not be a longass post depending on how coherently I can translate the concept in my brain into English words, so apologies in advance.

Okay, so if a dude comes up to me and asks me out, I can say 'no thank you'. That's a thing I am 100% within my rights to do. It doesn't matter if I'm attracted to him or if I'm not attracted to him or if I think he smells bad and it turns me off, it's not important. I am allowed to say no to the king of France, I can say no to Joe Shmoe at the liquor store.

A step further is HOW I say no. Do I say, "no thank-you", or do I say, "ew, no, your face is gross"? One of these answers is polite and concise; the other, no matter how true to me, is something they're going to have to live with. 

For the rest of their life, every romantic interest they pursue, they're going think of that person who told them they were too ugly, and they're going to be ashamed or insecure or embarrassed. Maybe they'll shrug it off eventually, but maybe they won't. Either way, is that the impression of yourself you want to leave on people?

Now the fun question: what if he's a trans guy?

Once again, you can say no. For any reason at all, you can say no. Maybe you aren't attracted to him, maybe he has bad breath, maybe you're new to the concept of gender identity and your fear of somehow fucking up and hurting him is getting in the way right now. For any of these reasons you can say no! But you DON'T GET TO MAKE IT THEIR PROBLEM. 

Saying no-thanks to a trans woman because you aren't attracted to her? Totally fine. 

Telling her "NO, I DON'T LIKE DICK"- that's real sweet. That's something she has to walk away with, now- every time she meets someone she likes and wants to get to know, that person's first thought is going to be about her genitals. She'll never be good enough for anyone because all anyone cares about is her junk.

You're not interested in a trans person? Cool, you don't have to be.

You're not interested in a trans person because you haven't made peace with the reality of trans identities? Obviously not great, but sure, take the time to figure things out.

You've never been interested in someone you knew to be trans, and announce "I NEVER WANT TO DATE A TRANS PERSON"? That's a different statement. That's saying, "There is one defining characteristic that makes all trans people the same, and it's something I find repulsive!" And- Surprise!- THAT is Transphobic. Which is, at it's barest bones- say it with me now- MAKING IT SOMEONE ELSE'S PROBLEM.

And imagine, if you will, dating a lady for a few weeks. She's clever, funny, beautiful, kind- you're head over heels for her, until the very first time you have sex, and you see her vagina. And you think to yourself, "that's an ugly vagina", and break up with her.

If that was a deal breaker for you? Who gives a shit. Some would say it's a bit shallow, but so.long as things break off amicably, life will move on without anybody getting hurt.

Same situation, but you tell her "I can't be with someone who has an ugly vagina!"... Jesus fucking Christ, my guy. What the Fuck. Why the fuck would you tell her that? What on earth made you think your personal aesthetic preferences were more important than her sense of self worth? You entitled jackass. Who died and made you Empirical Minister Of Visually Pleasing Hoo-Has? Why would you SAY that to someone??

Same situation, but she's trans. "This isn't working out for me"? Sure. "I don't know anything about this subject, I don't want to move forwards until I know more"? Hard, but not cruel. "Bye honey, shlongs gross me out"??? WHAT KIND DICKBAG ARE YOU????

And that's kind of what gets me on "Can I say I'm not attracted to genderfluid people?". Because, like... I'd never tell a lesbian, "oh, you aren't attracted to men? Have you met every man on the planet? Sure, sweetie" because, like... Cis men are men all the time. You're attracted to women, whatever. Cool.

But someone who DOES experience attraction to men tells me, "Oh, I'd never DATE one!"- Then I'm sketched out. Because, like.... Why? What do you think all men have in common? You didn't say you weren't attracted to them, just that you'd never date one.

"Oh, I could NEVER date a trans man!"... Why...? The only thing I can conclude is that you're boiling down everything they are to a set of genitals, at which point, fuck, they're probably happier without you.

And by the way, how often do you hear, "UGH, I could NEVER date a CIS woman"? Think about that one for a sec. How does that one feel to a cis lady? Probably pretty shitty. Imagine hearing that from someone you have a crush on. Do you feel outraged? Embarrassed? Maybe you feel disgusting, like someone you admire is repulsed by your body.

Fucking *Ouch,* huh?

SO. Easy rules for not being a dick:

1. If you want to turn someone down, you can, no matter what your reasons are. BUT YOU DO BOT HAVE TO SHARE THOSE REASONS.

2. Their hang-ups are not your responsibility, but YOURS AREN'T THEIRS, EITHER. DO NOT tell someone you can't date them because they look like your mom, just say no and move on! DO NOT tell someone you don't want to have sex because you think their feet are gross, just say no! DO NOT bring up someone's voice or hair or eyes or genitalia, JUST SAY NO! TELLING SOMEONE YOU LIKE THEM IS HARD. BE POLITE, MOTHER FUCKERS.

3. Maybe you're already dating someone you like, and you discover new information that you weren't expecting. Maybe they're trans, maybe they had a hysterectomy, maybe they have a tattoo or a kid or a criminal record, maybe they wear a wig or have a disability or have a rubber duck fetish. Whatever it is, it's an emotional topic and you need space to process. Good! Think things out! If that ends it for you, okay, but none of these things makes someone a bad person or an ugly person or unworthy of love! Don't make them feel that way. Again, your hangups are on you, not them.

4. The next time you go to say something like, "I'd never date a trans guy", or, "I'd never date a black girl", or, "I'd never date a disabled person"- Stop, and think about why you feel that way. What is it about this group of people that you don't like? Is it a real reason, or a stereotype? Is it an aesthetic reason, and if so, don't try to dismiss is as "that's just how I feel". There's a reason. Keep digging for that reason, and once you find it, figure out if it's a belief you want to hold onto. Always ask yourself "why?". Never let yourself fall into the belief that any group is worthy of wholesale dismissal.

5. Breathe. Stay calm. You're not a bad person. Society has programmed us with a lot of biases- it's not your fault you have them, but it isn't a free pass to remain ignorant and hurt others. Be gentle with yourself, but be willing to reflect on your feelings and behaviors and rein in the ones that are harmful. No matter your feelings, at least be kind. We're all trying our best, and we all just want to be loved. Keep that in mind.

Anyhow, that's just my two cents. I hope this wasn't too winding or rambly, I'm still working out my thoughts on the matter myself. Being genderfluid doesn't make me an expert on trans issues, and I certainly don't have the experience to speak further.

If there are any corrections to be made, please let me know. Always learning!

Please take care.

[shellheadtm-a]

alright, y'all, fuck it, i'm not going back and rereading civil war again bc it literally breaks me every goddamn time bc my stupid ass will literally always reread the confession and the road to civil war, and leads to me rereading iron man: director of shield, which also breaks me, which makes me read secret invasion and dark reign, which makes me read fraction's run, which makes me-

you get the idea.

but let's.  let's talk about this a minute.  i'm not gonna rehash the entire comic civil war here, it's a lot, but you should read it if you haven't.  it's a big turning point in the 616 world and leads almost directly to the current state of things as they stand today.  you should read it.  period.  if you're mcu be prepared for a bigger gut punch than anything the films gave you, i sob like a fucking baby every time i read fallen son and the confession.  and...the end of the brain wipe, which i'll also get to here in a minute, when tony starts filling himself in on what he's missing.  it's different.  it's bigger, but more contained (as in us-based only).  it's nastier.  and it drags on a hell of a lot longer than what amounts to one fight in a walmart parking lot, i'm talking months.  there is no nomad bullshit in this (steve hasn't picked up nomad in a very, very long time and the circumstances were different).  what i'm saying is, civil war literally divided and tore the entire us superhero community apart.  people that were friends were suddenly on opposite sides of the debate.  it didn't just tear apart tony and steve, think of carol and jess.  think of peter parker caught in the middle.  think of all the people who loved tony and steve equally and found themselves torn on who to support.  think of sue and reed, and johnny and ben, who were all over the board and nearly ripped their family apart permanently over it.

civil war was no bullshit.  it hit hard.  it hit fast.  people died.  it left the superhero community in complete tatters.

so let's get going.

extremis:  there are things concerning this i want to touch on.  one:  steve rogers did not like extremis.  this isn't fanon, he vocally was displeased about what tony had done to himself.  he thought it made tony strange.  distant.  more machine than man. (he wasn't really wrong in some ways.)  but something i really want to point in connection with it, outside of execute program which is a nice move into civil war, is that...tony never once really used it to find the rogue avengers.  not once, not really.  he had access to every camera, every satellite, every...digital anything.  he had the upper ground there.  and yet, somehow, the new avengers always managed to mostly stay free.  funny, huh.

miriam sharpe:  there's something too right about her, which makes her feel too wrong, you get me?  there's something about her that...is too perfect at pressing tony's emotional buttons to make her...mmm...legit.  i don't know if she was a plant for sure.  i don't.  but i'd be completely, utterly unsurprised to find out she was.  i also wouldn’t be surprised if she also turned out to be a skrull, tbh.

the night before registration was signed into law:  the team leads were separated.  god, folks, outside of steve's touchiness about extremis, and execute program, this was one of the best teams of avengers since the early mansion years.  tony and steve were closer than ever, they'd put down the avengers and then when steve wanted them back, tony couldn't tell him no.  they were doing what they do best, and doing it next to each other (and i'm sorry, you can fight me, but steve and tony are at their absolute peak when they're working together as an unstoppable duo, they're a team within a team, they're partners, they're best friends - in a lot of ways they're each other's whole world and driving force).  but the night before while they'd all gathered together, steve got called to the helicarrier.  tony and steve were separated.  steve was given an illegal order and refused.  he had fire opened on him.  and he bolted.  he and tony never did regroup and circle the wagons, not really, to actually talk about it.  i don't think...in any way...things would have gone as sideways as they did if steve and tony had been together and presenting a united front.  and i think certain powers that be were well, well aware of that fact.

thor clone:  tony might have had a thor hair, okay.  sure.  i can see him thinking at some point it would be neat to see what asgardian dna looked like but uh.  did everyone forget that biochem's not his thing?  it's not his wheelhouse?  he's an engineer.  an electrical and mechanical engineer.  now...who do we know that's a biochem person that supported registration, one of the foremost scientists in the field, hmm...oh, that's right.  hank pym.  and...gasp.  it turned out...hank pym...was a skrull.  wow, what a coinkidink.  i'm sure that totally absolutely doesn't mean a thing.

steve's extremes:  okay, so...steve does some stuff that is...drastic.  like steve is stubborn.  he's bullheaded.  once he plants his feet, getting him to move is damned near impossible.  you know who can usually bring him around to some form of compromise or agreeing to disagree?  ding ding ding, tony stark can.  this is not the first time tony and steve have had a bitchfit at each other.  they're in each other's pockets, literally, at almost all times, they fight sometimes.  it happens.  but they always, always manage to patch up and walk away friends and better for having had that talk.  the supreme intelligence.  tony erasing him being known as iron man.  the whole shebang, if you're familiar with the older comics.  they fight, they make up, they climb back in each other's back pockets again and they go home happy.  so...this is it?  they've had bigger shit on their plate and this is the one that does them in as friends?  this is the one that makes them fight like they do?  steve...does some hinky as fuck shit here, no one is blameless in this, steve is not in the right, tony is not in the right, no one is.  that's the fucking point.  but the extremes steve went to:  tony meeting him in good faith to actually talk because they haven't and need to and tony knows that, and steve taking him out with an emp (which if it had shut down extremis completely it would have killed tony and don't think steve isn't aware of that - steve is far more tech savvy than you'd think).  tony begging for another talk to ask steve directly if he had anything to do with happy hogan's death and yet another ambush by team steve.  meeting in the mansion one final time to talk and he and tony literally beating the shit out of each other (or rather, steve really unfairly smacking tony around because tony dropped his armor, and had been practically sobbing, begging steve to talk to him) and parting ways for good.  the thing here is:  tony called steve and steve still picked up.  steve still fucking picked up even though they were at war with each other.  and...of course...that final fight.  tony's armor was disabled by the vision.  he was a fucking sitting duck, he could not fight back in any meaningful way against 220+lbs of pissed off super soldier.  his armor was dead.  and steve beat the everloving fuck out of him.  tony, laying there in the street, his helmet smashed to hell, jaw broken, face swollen, steve on top of him with the shield raised about to drop it on tony's unprotected face, and tony laying there...begging steve to end it.  begging him.  and then steve getting yanked off of tony by a bunch of civilians who saw steve about to murder tony right there in the street and took action.

is it all steve's fault?  fuck no, tony did some nasty shit, too.  which is my point.  they both did things that overall, were out of character for both of them.  tony okaying hit squads?  of supervillains?  to bring in kid superheroes?  tony?  are you fucking serious right now?  that is not typical tony stark behavior.  see:  young avengers for details, when it's very obvious he doesn't think steve coming down so hard on kids wanting to help make the world better place was necessarily the right thing to do.  steve rogers, the man who mourned bucky barnes for years?  because he lost his best friend?  about to kill his other best friend in cold blood?  in the middle of a street?  really?  really???

steve in his cell:  when steve surrenders and steve's in the helicarrier, power dampner on, under arrest, awaiting arraignment, and tony comes to talk to him...things i want to point out:  this wasn't like an extended period of time after steve surrendered.  this was...very soon after that.  please remember, tony had been beat to all fucking hell by steve.  he shows up in full armor, never removes his helmet, nothing.  extremis's healing factor is good, but it's not that good.  tony's still beat to hell.  i'm willing to bet he was using the armor's autopilot function, too, because if he could actually stand up straight i'd call you a fucking a liar.  steve flinging out accusations on tony's mental health like barbs (he's not wrong, though, but you can bet tony takes every fucking word to heart in the absolute worst way).  the last words steve rogers says to tony stark is "was it worth it?  answer me."  as tony walks away.

steve's death:  hoo boy.  okay.  so, let me just...throw this out here:  steve's death fucking broke tony.  broke him.  completely.  utterly.  unmade him entirely.  steve on his way to arraignment takes a sniper shot for someone else, because steve is that kind of guy.  sharon, under mind control, pumps three bullets (time bullets it later turns out) into steve's stomach.  steve bleeds out.  dies.  you know what happens?  tony, who was supposed to give steve's eulogy, loses it.  breaks down when he gets up to speak.  starts sobbing hopelessly.  has to step down, there's no way in fuck tony stark will ever hold it together to deliver a real eulogy like that for steve.  i keep saying i cannot overstate how important they are to each other.  i can't.  i really can't.  like...they're so close at some points i feel like they're one soul in two bodies.  anyway.  when asked, tony says finding steve was the greatest day of his life.  not only does tony just fucking lose it, it turns out they don't bury steve that day.  instead, the remaining of the original avengers (tony, hank, jan) meet in the ice fields they found steve in.  they give him a quiet send off, for just the three of them and steve.  it's where "i miss your battlecry" comes from.  namor takes steve's coffin, promises no one will ever bother it.  they put steve back in the ice they found him.  yeah that...sure sounds like...the treatment of a guy who hated steve rogers, huh, and this on top of the fact that, yes, tony watched steve's autopsy (through the helicarrier camers).  he tortured himself just like that.  clint never had to tell tony he might as well have pulled the trigger himself, tony was already telling himself that.  he saw what happened to steve's body after, just...what it looked like.  he argued with sharon.  and then made sure sharon was taken care of, as completely as he could, after everything, because that's the kind of person tony is.  he continued to completely fall apart and not deal with steve's death in any fucking meaningful way.  he talked to steve's body after they brought him to the helicarrier before his autopsy.  he told him literally everything.  he told him through snot and tears and sobs and a complete and utter breakdown.  he told him it wasn't worth it, because the truth is, tony stark cannot bear the thought of living in a world where steve rogers does not exist.  there's a flipside to this, hold that thought.

tony's breakdowns:  post civil war tony has...quite a few of these.  he hallucinates steve (a side effect of extremis, all the info he takes in on a daily basis gets shoved into the part of his brain that processes guilt to be sorted through, and then his brain spits out important information in the form of people who are dead that tony blames himself for - steve played a prominent role there).  everyone can see it.  he doesn't leave the armor most of the time.  he flips out randomly.  he loses his shit utterly.  he's put on admin leave barring a psyche eval as direct of shield (a position he got ultimately railroaded into).  tony doesn't deal, is what i'm saying.  steve's death?  fucking breaks him.  totally.  tony does not pull himself back together at fucking all.  he doesn't handle it.  he blames himself for everything.  utterly everything.  yes, he was at fault for some things.  yes, he made a lot of bad calls.  but he canonizes steve (who also did hinky shit) and then turns around and tells himself he doesn't deserve even the modicum of happiness.  he has good days and bad days.  sometimes he almost seems like his old self.  most of the time he's barely holding himself together with spit and bubblegum.  ...i'd argue he may have been more than a little suicidal, at points.  he does some really, really risky shit - riskier than normal.

bucky/steve's letter:  bucky comes to kill tony.  there's just no other way to put it.  and they fight.  and tony does his absolute best not to hurt bucky.  he'd just gotten steve's letter - via execution of steve's estate - and even in the thick of it...steve still reached out to tony.  that letter was like...a friendly shoulder squeeze through the veil, you get me?  tony needed that, he really did.  it was a bandaid over a bullet wound, but he needed it.  and he turned around, and because steve utterly believed in bucky, put the weight of his faith and his trust behind bucky completely.  gave him the shield.  knew no one else would carry on steve's legacy the way bucky would.  ended up trusting bucky enough as the new cap to give him all the info on iron man, and how to shut tony down permanently, if need be.

frank castle:  steve damn near kills him.  steve.  that steve.  steve rogers.  y'all get how weird that is, right?  steve is wound like a bowstring the entire goddamn length of civil war.  i wonder if...the purpose...wasn't to get him to snap utterly and you know what that could have culminated in?  that's right.  tony's death at steve's hands.  you'd never get tony to kill steve.  ever.  ever.  but the other way around?  if you...tweak it just right?  hmmm.

the brain wipe:  so tony just...magically doesn't have any backups that include the worst year of his life.  i'm supposed to believe tony "meticulous to a fault" stark didn't back up his brain more than once.  uh huh.  okay.  so he just...manages to forget completely how unfunctioning he was after steve's death.  wipes out how utterly devastated and destroyed he was because steve was no longer in the world, who was fine with steve hating him and never speaking to him again as long as tony could protect him.  okay.  sure, karen.  but also, as a point, he left the decision up to thor and cap, ultimately, whether or not to bring him back.  at the time, thor was...mmm... but they had don.  and cap was bucky.  but they also brought steve in, who was alive at that point, because everyone knew when tony said cap in that recording he meant steve rogers.  and the holdout was pepper.  no one else really hesitated.  of course they bring tony back.  the world needs iron man.  the world needs tony stark.  gee, does...does that sound...like the guy ready to turn his best friend's head to mush with his shield?  hmmmm hmmmm hmmmm.

brain wipe aftermath:  tony's not wrangled well enough.  i...will argue that leaving him alone with pepper and maria hill might not have been the best of things to do.  i get it, osborn was being osborn, but.  it played out as being vindictive, letting tony stumble upon all of that himself.  but the huge, key thing to note here is steve fucking rogers tearing into the building where tony's being kept, knowing what's up, demanding to know where tony is because tony's only very recently woken up and...it turns...out...he's playing catch up on the last year and...has found...he thinks steve is dead.  in that moment tony stark thinks steve rogers is dead and you know what he does?  what tony always does when confronted with steve's mortality:  he starts crying.  he gets upset.  and i definitely think how tony finds out sets the tony for things for...a good long while, especially between himself and steve.

and going on in the background of all of this melodrama is...civil war itself, of course, everyone fighting each other viciously over registration, the nightmare of the fifty state initiative, which does not...go well.  the shit with the negative zone and a huge flashing warning light in the form of tony telling carol that of course they have to bring their friends into custody.  if he and the mighty avengers don't, they will.  they being shield.  remember project wideawake?  think microchipping every superhuman.  think genetic testing for powers.  think sentinals for everyone, not just mutants.  think people like spider-man on a dissection table.  all the shit tony was trying to get in front of, and put a stop to.

secret invasion happens.  and the first person in the entire thing, openly, that gets taken out?  tony stark.  extremis is mostly shut down.  his tech gets taken down.  iron man is, for a time, effectively removed from the picture completely.  tony, having seen it coming, has set rhodey up with a suit that has no starktech.  has a plan in place.  tony seizes.  he damned near dies, really.  almost gets taken in by the skrull queen (who's been psing as spider-woman all this time).  and during all of this steve's floating through time, trying to make his way back to his own body so the red skull can't take it.  eventually succeeds at that.  what i'm saying is everything was a complete and utter shitshow.

norman osborn?  now director of shield.  it goes about as well as you think it does, him and his dark avengers.  he tries to lay siege to asgard (which is floating up above and near broxton, oklahoma) after going off the rails.  he does some naughty naughty things.  it's not good.  he steals tony's tech.  he damned near beats tony to death on live tv.  the rt in tony's chest doesn't just cover the brain wipe, folks, it handles the fucking brain damage norman osborn did to him.

things to particularly consider:  jessica drew was a skrull during all of this.  with pheromone powers.  firmly on the side of team steve.  just...think about that.  think about steve's aggressiveness.  think about how easily the real jess is able to like.  sweeten up the hulk (he made her a sandwich and it's the most precious thing) even when he's angry and in pain.  just.  think about it.

think about project wideawake.  think about how firmly tony opposed it.  think about how he saw the writing on the wall after stamford and knew they had to get in front of it.  think about tony going to all those kids' funerals.  think about how emotionally open he'd be.  think about how perfectly miriam sharpe played into things.  think about all the praise she heaped on tony every time he did something she wanted.  think about how tony's self-esteem issues work.  just...think about that.

think about how a lot of players in shra were all involved in anti-mutant stuff.  consider that a moment.

think about how easily the green fucking goblin was able to get into the good public graces by killing the skrull queen.

and the most important piece of evidence i'll give you:  civil war: warzones.  it's a what if.  a what if had civil war dragged on instead of ending in steve's death.  guess what.  turns out the skrulls had been escalating and manipulating the entire fucking time.

just.  think about it.  all of it.  and civil war starts to make a hell of a lot more sense.

[cloudbattrolls]

A Smell of Stale Feeling

Etuuya Vannyn | Imperial Colony #433 | Present Night

In the vast cosmic tapestry of the empire there are planets of incredible wonders.

Waterfalls vast enough that they’re almost seas on their own, jungles where the line between animal and plant thins into nothingness as eyes watch you from every trunk and patch of vines, and planets where suns even harsher than Alternia’s have baked the deserts into glass.

Colony #433, more commonly known as the Pits, with its stinking swamps of negligible biological diversity and sweltering humidity, isn’t one of them.

Even before the Empire sunk its hooks in, the planet wasn’t considered much of a prize.

You fancy it would’ve been abandoned long ago for richer conquests if it weren’t for one key reaso -

Ow.

You swallow down a curse as your elbow gets bumped against a wall. Not that you’d probably make any noise now anyway; can hardly get air into your throat when you’re so much crumpled up skin and bones right now, only a few clusters of worms remaining to allow you to function and have basic awareness.

Not that you’d want more. You’re folded up and stuck in a damn box, all senses stifled, and you are developing a hell of an itch on your chin.

At least you’re almost there, if your count is correct.

The place you’re being carried through by unwitting janitors thinking you’re nothing but sealed hazardous waste is the colony’s main surveillance hub. A dull gray and squarish concrete building squatting near the edge of a bubbling swamp, it couldn’t look more depressing if it tried, but it turned out to have surprisingly good security.

So good that you and your trolls were forced to devise a plan where you are currently developing high sympathy for luggage.

Several of them had objected on the grounds that this was a distraction, and in fact made the mission more risky. They were right, but you countered by asking them that if they didn’t want to stick it to the Empire, why were they here? Also, who was in charge, might they recall.

If anything, your little sideshow should help the main plan.

You feel your carriers stop, exchange some words in a thick colonial accent that’s difficult to parse, and set you down. They chat for a few minutes, and you make out laughter and discussion of the coliseum games after work later. One of the planet’s only entertainments, and completely cruelty-free.

To trolls.

After some extra obnoxious minutes, they finally all file out on the lunch break you know they’re taking, and with a bit of struggle you cut the lid open and, wobbly, manage to climb out.

You look like you’ve been pressed in an iron and starving for nights, so skeletal and squashed do you appear right now. Your clothes hang off you as you take a moment to undo the knots in your hair, scratch that itch, and check that your horn tines haven’t been chipped.

No more than that, and you quickly crawl into a vent (replacing the grate behind you after nearly busting your arms popping it off) in case one of them comes back, closing your eyes as you check on your other worms.

The first and biggest cluster is in position, writhing around in their tank made to mimic a jade’s body temperature, with some blood to keep them from entering torpor.

The second cluster...oh, that’s bad.

You grit your teeth. You knew this was a possibility, and it’s not entirely their fault, but you’ll have to deal with the fallout as it comes. Stupid things.

The third cluster is intact, and not where it’s supposed to be. Not too far off, but distant enough from you that you can’t quite tell where.

Not great, since if you don’t get infusions soon you could be shoved over by a two sweep old.

“Are you in position?”

The voice in your ear buzzes through your completely biological communication piece; no waves any of the colony’s surveillance can pick up on at all.

“Almost.” You grunt back, climbing through the vent with the gecko-like gloves you have on and trying to ignore your growing weakness. “Do you have the weapons prepped for knockout?”

“Everything except for the DNA cannons, so you’re fine.”

You roll your eyes and pause at an intersection in the metal vents, then remember which way it is. Empress, you’re slow right now.

“I’m not the priority. Can you get the cannons?”

“Not without exposing ourselves.”

“Then hijack some shields while I’m doing my bit. If you can’t, sabotage them. ”

“Yes, Captain Vannyn.”

Bloody Tulais and her bloody title for you. What a joke.

Your clumsy almost-hollow arm clangs against the size of a vent and you freeze, hearing discussion in the room it’s in the side of. You’re so close.

These accents aren’t as thick as the others, so you can make the voices out better.

“You think another frograt got in?”

“With our luck? A whole nest. Everything in this place hates it too!”

They stretch out their o’s and u’s oddly, and v’s sound like f’s. A ripple of slightly grim laughter.

“I can’t wait to be promoted. My rail’s been saving so we can retire somewhere nice, and my ash has a new sprit I haven’t even met.”

“Pfft, why you want to? You’ll scare them off with your mug!”

You force yourself to keep going amidst more laughter and teasing. If you hear too much you’ll lose your nerve for what you need to do.

The second cluster...you divert the ones left alive toward this room.

Said survivors were those not quick enough to burrow into the alien slaves who found them. The ones who did died from the toxic blood. You don’t think the aliens are dead, but you don’t know. If not, you’ll help them later. Meanwhile, you wait minutes before you feel the worms squirm in. They’re weak too; even the survivors won’t last long outside your body or without some blood in them.

If you don’t have as close to your full count of worms at your destination, you could be at risk of being weak enough to get taken down, weapons or no.

“What? That’s not a frograt.”

“Ehh, duh. Huh, there’s a lot...wonder if something else tracked them in.”

“Let’s grab some, take them to the boss.”

Shit.

What you do to them should be forbidden. Blood runs out of their mouths as  worms swarm and tear their mouths apart inside. They keep them from breathing until they pass out.

The little white parasites slip back to you through the room’s grate, delighted at their feed, and you continue on.

The voice in your ear hisses.

“What’s taking you? We’ll be discovered by patrols soon.”

“Less than a minute.”

You can feel the third cluster now, it’s...right above you. Great.

Steeling yourself, you pop open the grate and stick your head out, blinking in the dim lights after the dusty darkness of the grate.

The poor aliens your worms burrowed into like the simple creatures they are are lying cut open on a table you can just see the top of. No one’s noticed you yet; they’re all poring over the bodies, and there’s your third cluster of worms in its tank on another table.

Sealed shut with metallic clamps so none of them can escape.

At least they haven’t noticed the security footage is on loop; the tech team’s done their job, so they won’t have seen what you had to do to your three victims back in that room. The first cluster is still in place.

You still have a chance.

You wriggle out onto the floor and then spring up with as much energy as possible.

“Hello there, assorted miscreants and ne’er-do-wells! Oh - is that rude? Not as rude as how you treat the locals.”

“Who the fuck are you?” One bellows, pointing a gun at you. Several others follow suit, looking away from their little dissection party.

You’ve got to do something about those clamps, but are the guns disabled yet...?

You spring across the heads of the gathered trolls anyway and are rewarded with fire as you duck behind the container. A few shots pierce it and make some very convenient holes, though you get hit as well and are forced to the ground as they gather around you.

It’s just as well, as your worms writher back into you. You make sure they do it in as flashy a way as possible, dragging it out as the now horrified and furious group backs off.

You give them a bright, wide smile full of sharp teeth as the bullets clatter from your body, worms plugging the holes.

Then the biggest cluster swarms out of the room’s floor itself and into your body, lifting you up on stilts of white as you laugh at the looks on their faces as they crash backwards, realizing their guns won’t shoot anymore and whoops - the door is locked.

You wag a finger as your parasites find their places again and fill out your husk, making you whole again.

“Ah, ah. See, I noticed when I was researching your planet that you like to make the native aliens kill each other for sport. So much that there are hardly any left, even though you force them to breed. Even though they’ve been found to have the intelligence of wrigglers. Even though they didn’t attack you first.”

“They’re aliens. Who cares?” One troll complains. “I dunno where you’re from, freakshow, but there’s nothing to do out here. What’re you, some alien who goes around sticking their face in other aliens’ business?”

“Funny story, that - ”

“Don’t care. Come on, let’s rush ‘em. There’s just one of the things, we saw all the worms go into it.”

Some trolls look angry enough to attack you, but others look faintly ill.

Your smile gets bigger as you let worms out from behind your shoulders to form two chains lifting her up as you step up to her. Her clothes quickly become stained with her olive blood as they start to work.

“Do you feel them chewing your flesh? Draining your blood? I could make your death as slow as I wanted. I could infest everyone in this room. I could consume your insides bit by bit as you watched helplessly.”

Your voice is almost gentle, but the toothy smile and gleam in your bright jade eyes hold nothing but malice.

“You all get one more chance to treat the remaining aliens correctly. Oh, and don’t think of trying to make any reports to the empire, or fellow colonies; all your satellites and communications are down.”

An explosion goes off in the distance.

“That’s my cue. And so none of you get any bright ideas...”

You drain so much blood from them you can’t hold it all. It pools on the floor, cerulean mixing with olive, bronze mixing with yellow as it drips back through the vent you came from. A sad waste, but there’s nothing for it. They’ll all live, but they’ll be weakened for weeks.

Living at the tender mercy of their slaves.

--

When everything’s been cleaned up and trolls have been stationed, working on fake reports to the Empire to cover the gap in communications and seizing control, you sit near one of the globe-like trees that radiates heat, shuffling your feet with restlessness from so much blood. It’s so humid you feel slightly damp all over.

Most of your trolls are resting a good fifty feet away, down the slight slope you’re on. Easy for you to keep an eye on, but far enough that you can’t disturb them.

The voice in your ear - Tierel, promoted at the same time you were - walks toward you.

“Are they all stable?”

The yellow rolls their eyes.

“Yeah, though one turned out to have hemophilia, so it was pretty touch and go. The three trolls you knocked out by choking are in shock. One keeps retching, and the others are shaking constantly.”

They pause, as if waiting for a response. You only nod.

“Why do you care? They’re Empire scum.” They burst out. “You’re the one that did this to them! They have it coming anyway.”

“Arguably, yes.” You examine your claws. “And I really enjoyed it. Which is the problem.”

“They’re doing messed up shit, even for the Empire. You’ve got a right.”

A right. Does a monster ever have a right to be monstrous? To take delight in the warped and perverse things they can do?

No. It’s like you told Tiijah: no matter the excuse, or the supposed nobility, it all boils down to sadism and power.

“A right to stop them, a right to scare them. Yet we’ll be leaving them at our mercy with those who remain to enforce our terms and I’ll have to hope those trolls don’t become drunk on power themselves. They’ll live in fear because of us, especially me. I don’t regret it, Tierel, but call it what it is; a power play.”

They sigh very deeply and shake their head. They’re wearing that shirt you mended for them ages ago.

“Whatever. I really came up here to ask if you if you wanted to sit with us.”

You blink, then smile slightly.

“Good prank! You had me going for a moment.”

“Do you ever stop being stupid for five seconds? I mean it.”

“Sweet lemontree, I am sure you do, but be considerate of everyone else who isn’t weirdly tolerant of me. If you want to sit here, I can’t stop you, but don’t drag your friends into it.”

They step closer and cross their arms.

“I’m inviting your dumb, stubborn ass because we’re grateful you took the risk of infiltration for us. A lot aren’t psyched about the extra work, but we only lost a few trolls. Way fewer than if we would’ve had to get anyone else in there besides you.”

You sit bolt upright.

“We lost trolls? Where? Why?”

Tierel’s face falls, their nicked ears drooping.

“Right before you took over the control room, a patrol snuck up on us. Nailed three of us before the weapons knockout took hold. We had to leave them to snag the shields on time.”

"Who?”

“Uh...I can find out their names.”

“Please. Tell me if they had quadrants. Everything you can find.”

Tierel shuffles in place, looking at you with an odd, almost pitying expression.

“All of us know we can die in the field, Captain. They accepted the risks. Hell, we’re celebrating because of how bloodless this all was. A lot because of you.”

You drain trolls half dead and traumatize them, and your force calls it bloodless. They celebrate. The victims were just empire scum.

It’s not that you can summon a lot of compassion for the colony trolls. Each and everyone knew what was happening with the aliens, and each and every one ignored it.

But somewhere there’s a moirail and an auspicitice who will never hear from their quadrant again. Not for at least ten sweeps, and anything could happen in that time.

You close your eyes.

“They can come up here, if they want. If they really want. Don’t you make them.”

Tierel raises a sardonic eyebrow.

“Is it that hard to believe they’re willing to be around you? We follow you into combat.”

“That’s not a ringing endorsement of your good judgment.”

The lowblood snorts and goes back down.

There really are four very sweaty trolls following them when they come back and you open your eyes. Huh.

You feel horribly shy, but you can hardly afford to seem it.

“So! I don’t even want to mention the weather, but have you ever heard the joke about the matron and the courtesan?”

It turns out they haven’t. Or the one about the seamstress and the three lusii who argued over her, and to decide she sewed hats for all of them...

This is madness. You should be ordering them away.

Instead you find yourself smiling at their own jokes and comments, even as part of you screams inside.

What are you doing, Vannyn?! Playing tame drinker? Tricking yourself and them? Don’t they realize if they were on the other side you’d have drained them just the same?

Your smile drops and you remember Rivali’s hatred and disgust.

Rivali, who alone sees you as clearly as anyone can.

“What’s up, Captain?”

You manage what you hope is a convincing bright expression and look for Tierel.

“Oh, I just drifted off. Don’t mind me - I’m an experienced nightdreamer.”

They go back to chatting, as you resist the urge to run away.

Next time will be different. If your force won’t learn why they shouldn’t be near you, you’ll have to teach them.

No matter what it takes.

[epilogue-and-prologue]

To Protect and To Serve - Part 1 : The Meeting

Plot: Reader is working with therapy dogs for veterans. She meets James Barnes through her job. Sort of. 

Note/Warnings: Fluff. Dogs. Shelter. Disability in dogs. (1757 Words)

Disclaimers: Nothing belongs to me.

“Buck, you’re ready?”

It was a first. Never, ever, before any veteran specifically went to you for help. Usually there was a whole protocol in place. You could not decide which dog you were going to assign to whom nor who the new trainee would be with. This was highly unprofessional if not dangerous.

In any other situation you would have said no. But, in any other situation Captain America does not show up on your door trying to buy his way in with a sugar-coated smile and cookies.

In any other situation you would not even meet the person your trainee was affected to. You had met Steve by accident and your mouth slipped. You should have known better. But July, the German Shepard he was assigned with was not signaled as a therapy dog. Steve felt as it was not fair for him to have been treated so fast when others were still waiting so he tried to cover up in any way he could. Although, it was entirely his fault if your tea went flying when he bumped into you. Well, a little bit of yours for not looking up from your phone too.

Captain America being Steve Rogers he apologized profusely buying you another drink and not settling before you accepted it. Words leading to sentences and sentences leading to “I work with therapy dogs for veterans for a job” the math was not so hard to do. And now, here you were, in a shelter of all places, with two of the most recognizable men on the planet hidden behind hats and sunglasses.

They still managed—to your surprise—to pull it off.

The volunteer came and took you three to the dog shelter in the back. The dogs were in all shape and sizes, mostly bad shapes but most of them were in recovery from bad treatments so no surprise there.

You did not know how to address him. Steve had told you Bucky. He himself had told you that James or Barnes was enough, Bucky being much more intimate. You still had no idea how it would go if his name ever slipped off your tongue.

“(Y/N)? How do you think this is going so far?”

Steve’s anxiety dripped in his voice and soon enough July was by his side.

The young man working at the shelter had left you alone for the moment. He was talking a few feet away with an older woman.

“I don’t know. But he will. He probably won’t choose until he meets a dog with which it clicks. And it can—probably will—take time.

 —You’re talking about that dog as if it was a dame to court.”

Steve smirked. You raised an eyebrow.

“Well, it is a strong relationship so yeah... The parallel is not so overreached.

—So! Have you decided yet?”

The volunteer had come back. James looked at Steve and he answered a “No” rubbing the back of his head. The young man smiled and continued:

“No pressure. If you need to take your time, it’s alright. Taking a pet into your home is a new addition to your life. It’s normal to be wary of it at first. I’ll leave you to it for now.

 —Thanks!

 —Thank you, young man.

 —Steve...

 —What?!

 —You did it again.

 —No, I did not.

 —Yes. You did.

 —No. (Y/N) tell him that I did not use a patronizing tone with the employee!

 —Well...

 —No, not a patronizing tone. Your Captain America tone.”

You chuckled.

“And what in the name of anything holy is that Barnes?”

Well, the words had slipped off your tongue alright. His eyes twitched a little mischievously.

“His Captain America tone. And vocabulary, like kids or young man. He could give lessons with that tone but I’m not sure people would listen though...”

Without thinking about it you laughed at the comment. The blonde man beside you looked at you a bit disappointed if it was not for his goofy smile.

“Buck... You cannot tell this kind of thing aloud. It will get your ass in trouble.

 —Oh my... Steve, did you just swear? Are you sure we’re allowed to do that?”

If his face was getting any redder, he might have turned into a walking tomato. You could not help the laugh escaping you.

A bark resonated behind you, through the small cage.

It was large enough for a puppy to be running around, still this one had not. He only barked profusely when you put your hand on the wiring. He walked to you still barking and that is when you noticed it. His right first foot was missing a white bandage covering the stump.

Immediately stopping to laugh, the old friends shared a look before James crouched in front of the small Labrador’s place.

“Hey big guy... What are you up to huh?”

The animal kept barking as he put his gloved hand first, not trusting the animal entirely.

The pup barked and barked and barked, showing his teeth to Barnes’s metal fingers until they reached his head. Slowly scratching there, the small thing seemed to calm themselves down before settling down and letting the soldier pet them.

When the young volunteer came back, and before he could say anything, both men stood in front of him.

James talked this time around.

“We’ll take this big guy over there.”

--------

After a few discussions about the treatment for the dog’s leg and some papers, James left the shelter the next day with a very anxious black Labrador. Turned out, the dog was a girl, a very frightened and scared girl pup. So, she was not suitable for any training right now considering her heavy trauma. You had told that to James and Steve but apparently none of them listened and came to see you—at your house not your work: you did not want to get fired—the following week with the small Labrador in James’s arms.

“You know if you don’t let her go she will never leave the house. You’ll have her even when she’s in college. No more sex life and all that stuff.”

You smirked at that. The Captain was right though.

“Listen James...

 —You should call me Bucky... Everybody does nowadays.”

His sentence startled you, your eyes widening a little.

“What do you mean? Would you like me to call you that or is it because someone” you glared Steve’s way as he raised his hands in an innocence plea “made you do it?”

“Steve wouldn’t force a frog to have a bath if his life depended on it.

 —Hey! You know that’s not true!

—Yeah, but still fun to get a rise out of you.”

He absentmindedly stroke the dog’s head.  

“No (Y/N) it’s because I want you to. Plus, James makes me feel odd and Barnes ... well. I’m not a soldier anymore. Just call me Bucky it’ll be fine.”

Still cradling the dog in his arms, you softly smiled at him and he returned it a thousandfold. Damn that smile. You swallowed hard.

“Alright… Bucky”

Damn if saying his name did not give you sinful thoughts. Rubbing your hands down your thighs in a very nervous gesture, you coughed slightly and asked what you were curious about.

“So, now that I know how to call you properly, what’s that little pumpkin’s name?”

Steve huffed before going to the kitchen. You yelled to him where everything was before settling back into the arm chair.

“She has no name yet.”

Taken aback you tried not to show the surprise on your face.

“Do you need help with it?”

The man in front of you released a slow breath and let the puppy down from his arms.

“Maybe? I don’t know actually...

 —No pressure. Just take your time OK?”

He nodded, appreciating the gesture. Steve came back with a small tray of cookies and warm beverages.

You looked at it suspiciously.

“I don’t remember buying homemade cookies last time I went to the grocery store...”

The captain simply shrugged.

“Nat loves to bake and she always makes too much. And you said cookies were your favorite way of—and I quote—’eating your problems away””.

You heard Bucky chuckle before you saw it, making your heart jump. But before you had time to react to that you felt the Labrador’s paw on your leg. You lifted her and settled her on your lap. She was a needy one though and started putting her truffle up licking your chin and cheeks until you took her back into your arms.

You raised an eyebrow at Bucky.

“See what you’ve done with her? She can’t get into anyone’s arm without asking for attention now... But she’s cute so I’ll give her that.

 —Hey, you’re lucky this ‘pumpkin’ ripped one of my shirt open when I tried picking her up last night!

 —I’m sure they were people who enjoyed the view Cap, no need to complain about it.”

You winked as emphasis and he blushed again making you and Bucky laugh in unison.

“You three are going to be the death of me one day.

 —I was your friend when you were sick and skinny you don’t get to complain about that friendship now.

 —Yeah and I... Well, I have no good excuse for that but it’s just so funny to see you turn into a giant Dorito tomato flavored whenever we mention something related to sex.”

The black dog in your arms barked wiggling his tail as if to agree with and it only made the three of you laugh. You handed her back to Bucky ever so carefully.

“Yeah ... you know that he is a big Dorito—whatever the hell that is.”

Surprising everyone the small dog seemed to agree with his owner. An idea came to you making you grin and making Steve suddenly worried.

“Hey! Dorito! That’s a name for a dog isn’t it?”

The blonde man looked at you with big eyes and put his hand to his forehead in anticipation for his best friend’s answer.

"...I don’t know... What do you think Dorito?

 —You can’t call your dog that!

 —She seems to like it!”

Indeed, the pup almost jumped from Bucky’s arms, licking his face as she heard the name.

“Well, Dorito it is.

 —Yes!

 —You’re not going to let me live it down, will you?

 —Nope.

 —Not even in your wildest dreams Dorito man.”

You shared a heartfelt laugh with the two men once again.

It felt foreign and good. It was perfect.

[professionalfoodstalker]

One In A Million // Kevin

Girl you're so one in a million You are Baby you're the best I ever had Best I ever had And I'm certain that There ain't nothing better No there ain't nothing better than this ××× It's too damn early for this. Why I had to be the one to go the grocery store I don't know. They woke me up out of my sleep knowing damn well out of everybody in the house I like my sleep the most. "Kev. Kev. Kevin we need to go to the store." Brian said, lightly shaking me in my bed. "Then go to store and leave me the hell alone." I groaned in my pillow, then flipped myself over to where my back was facing him. "I'm sorry. What I meant was: you need to go to the grocery store." "Rok, you're already up, why can't you go? Are you disabled in any way shape or form?!" He flopped on my bed and I was tempted to push him off. "Nah, man, me and Nick were about to get into an intense game off Mario Kart when I realized we're out of breakfast food." "There are 2 other guys in this house you could ask so why are you bothering me specifically?" To my dismay, I could feel myself slowly waking up. "If Jay went, he wouldn't be back until like five o'clock in the afternoon. If D went, he'd come back in time just not with the correct groceries. (Ya know, I think he does that on purpose so I won't ask him again.) I'm asking you because I know you're the most responsible and you'd go and get the right stuff in a timely fashion." Eventually I sat up and pushed Brian off my bed, hesitantly agreeing to go get groceries. I slowly push around the metal cart, thinking of all the ways to hurt those inconsiderate bastards when I get home when I hear metal clashing. I shake off those thoughts and look up to see what happened. "Holy shit! I am so sorry. I wasn't paying attention and it's so early. I haven't had my morning coffee yet so I promise I didn't mean to do it on purpose!" This woman stammers and I can make out the fatigue in her voice. She doesn't even glance up at me. She has fair brown skin and her hair is in a messy bun atop her head. The fact that she's not wearing makeup tells me that she really is tired and doesn't care that's she's out in public looking like she just woke up. I don't know what color her eyes are under her shades but I can surely tell that she looks tired and her lack of effort to smile doesn't help. Her baggy Lion King sweatshirt hangs off of her left shoulder and her sweatpants are seemingly held up by the jaw string. "It's alright, I promise. Clearly I wasn't the one paying attention." I say presenting a small smile. (One I'm hoping she'll reciprocate.) When she finally gives me her attention, her face stills. She bears an unreadable expression and I don't know what for. In what seems like a flash, she untangles her basket with mine, reverses it and changes her direction. Maybe she's not a social person... "Hey, wait..." My voice fades out in realization that it's not even worth it. Moving on, the first aisle I step into is for cereal because Howie can't go a day without his Lucky Charms and will be pissed if I don't get them. It makes me chuckle, remembering when AJ ate the last of the Lucky Charms one time and Howie cussed him out in Spanish. And Nick was mocking Howie, then he got cussed out in Spanish. Yesterday was fun. Next Brian wanted me to get him some macaroni and cheese, ice tea, and ginger ale for him. Nick and I both like Mint Chocolate Chip ice cream, that reminds me to get two separate pints this time because next time he eats mine I will kick that kid's ass. I search through all the various flavors of dairy delicacy and my ears unconsciously pick up on a conversation being held in the next aisle over. "Mama, you don't understand! He was fine...as in fine as hell fine!" The voice sort of matches the one to the female that I had a semi pleasant encounter with no less than five minutes ago. I continue my actions with pulling two cartons out of the freezer and her voice gets closer. "No, I know, Mama! Yeah you didn't send me to the store to find a man. I got it. But he was fine! Now what type of bread do you say get?" Now I don't want to get cocky because I hate arrogant people but what are the odds that she isn't talking about me? Honestly. I have no intentions whatsoever to confront her but the bizarre thought of this woman openly talking about me is kind of exciting! Calm down Kevin! This woman could be talking about some other good looking gentleman at this market at 10 o'clock in the morning. As my luck would have it, just as I'm turning out of the frozen section I crash into another cart. Or rather the same cart as before. I was most definitely distracted by that woman's conversation and that's exactly who I run into. Seems like she didn't expect it neither, her shades fell off her face but she held onto that phone like it was her lifeline. "Oh my fucking God!" She hisses under her breath but loud enough for me to hear. And she cusses, that's not very ladylike. I like it. I see there is coffee in her basket along with creamer, zebra cakes, swiss roles, cheese crackers, white milk, hot pockets, and bread. Is that for her because that is junk. Straight junk. But who am I to judge? She drops to her knees to pick up her shades and when she comes back up I am bitch slapped by her beauty. Her cheekbones rival that of my own and her eyes are a shade of green and brown. Out of all the guys I know, I've never been ashamed to admit to myself that I have a black woman fetish. Well, my cousin's got a bit of one himself; they obviously love the jawline, baby blue eyes and the goofy personality. But I can't blame him, we grew up the same way and they were almost like forbidden treasure to us. And people know that when you can't have something you without a doubt want it even more. "I don't know whether to say this is funny or very awkward." I comment jokingly. "Same. I feel like I have introduce myself now since I've interrupted your day twice now with my carelessness." She chuckles, putting her shades atop her head and I am literally mesmerized by her eyes but it appears like she's trying to avoid eye contact. Nor does she remove her basket from mine. "Well that shouldn't be too hard. My general southern hospitality requires me to go first, I'm Kevin." I hold out my hand for her to shake (and I want to look into her eyes, if she gives me the opportunity.) Yes, my heart speeds up a notch when she giggles at my lame joke. I don't even know this woman's name! Come on Richardson, get it together! "Southern hospitality, huh? Thought I heard a country accent in there somewhere. Eva." My heart rate kicks it up another two notches as she shakes my hand and meets my eyes all at once. ×××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××× I rush into the house, nearly throwing the groceries into he kitchen. Brian and Nick were – just like he said – engaged in a severely intense game of Mario Kart. Looks like their trying to beat Rainbow Road again. "Hey cuz! Did you get the stuff from the store?" Brian asks, not moving from his position. I'm moving so fast, I'm struggling to take off my jacket to get upstairs to change. Someone comes up behind and tugs my jacket sleeve and everything fell into place afterwards. I turn around and see it's just Howie and he looks like he woke a second ago. He goes to lay down on the couch and watches Bri and Nick play the game without any words. That could've been me but then I wouldn't have gotten Eva's number! And I sure as hell wouldn't be meeting her at Starbucks for lunch! "I sure did!" I yell from the hallway. "Oh since you're so helpful can you also–" "No. No. And hell no. Cook you're own damn food! I have a place to be." "But I wasn't–" "I don't care. I have a place to be." I steady my breathing by walking up the stairs then I hear: "Damn, you'd think he's getting his dick sucked at this place where he has to be!" The his unmistakeable giggles to follow. "The fuck did you say Nickolas?!" I pause on the carpeted stairs. The childish giggles turn in coughs real quick. If I wasn't in such a hurry to take a shower and choose a casual outfit for Starbucks, I'd go back down there to threaten him with my fist. That always works quite effectively. We plan to meet up at 12:30 so that gives me roughly an hour. I took some time in the shower to wash my long hair and it needs to blow dried which I will do after I put on my clothes. A white T-shirt, red flannel, and jeans is casual right? White Converse are like the epitome of casual in my book. I check my watch and see that I have 10 minutes and it takes me a minute or so to get over the shock of that I clearly stayed in the showers way too long. Now I don't have time to dry my hair. Good Lord, I sound like a woman! Man bun will have to do I see. Cologne, check. Deodorant, check.  Groucho Marx eyebrows, check. Wallet, check. I'm good to go. I basically jump down the stairs and now everyone is playing Mario Kart game. Appears to be DK Summit this time. "Ah fuck you AJ! How dare you throw that blue shell at me! It's the last lap too!" "Nicky it's not my fault your ass was in first place. Keyword being was." AJ cackles. "Language!" Brian scolds. "And you're in last place that wouldn't have helped you anyway." I comment. Nick looks up at me and pauses the game with his controller. "Kev, where're you going? Are you really going get your dick sucked?" "Language!" "Nick...You better hope you're not the first person I see when I come back from Starbucks." "Starbucks?!" They question in unison. "You hate Starbucks! You think all the people who drink Starbucks are uptight and full of themselves!" Howie says. "And I still do. I have a lunch date with this woman I met at the store so that's the only reason I'm going. Don't wait up kids. Don't burn down the house. Don't starve. Daddy will be back later." I grab my keys, jacket and walk out the door. ××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××× On the way there all I could think about was what this Eva woman was like. There's no doubt that's she's cooler than Elsa on ice. I just want to get to know her. She's obviously gorgeous and that makes me nervous. And this will be the first time I was asked out by a black woman, normally it's the other way around but I have no problem with that either. I enter the coffee shop and there she was standing at the front of the line in a yellow sundress with white Converse and her hair is out of that perfect messy bun. Gorgeous. And casual, like I thought. I don't know what she was ordering but I thought I should pay for it. "Hey you!" I greeted her and she jumps, holding her chest. "Hey you! Don't do that I have a weak heart." She laughs to herself. "Oh my God, really?" "Oh hell no but don't do that. I was just ordering if you want anything." "I don't eat here so I wouldn't know what's good. Why can't I just have what you're having?" "Because I'm getting a salad, do you want a salad?" "Oh hell no." I chuckle, my eyes graze the menu. "Get whatever you feel won't ruin my taste buds. I trust you, girl." "But you don't know me." I lean down to whisper in her ear. My lips graze her ear. "That's what I'm here for, Eva." I turn on my heels and search for a booth to sit at. An hour later we're chatting like we've been friends for years. I finished my sandwich and she finished her salad. "Can I ask you a question?" "Sure babe." That came out oddly easily. It rolled off the tongue like water rolled off a duck's back. "Do you know that you are insanely gorgeous? Like you are fine as hell!" Suspicions confirmed. I drop my head and when you're white, the blush is right there front and center. "You must make men feel real insecure when you're standing next to them huh?" "And you're one to talk! I feel like I'm on a date with a supermodel." "I don't know about the super part but that's probably because I am a model." My eyebrows nearly shoot off my face. I stand no chance of hiding my shock. "Really I'm model too!" "I'm gonna have to come see one of your shows then. I'm sure I won't be disappointed." Eva winks at me and I can't stop smiling. "I guess that means the same for me. I know I won't be disappointed." Then I add my wink and she tucks a braid behind her ear and that's probably the sexiest thing I've seen in a while. The flirting continued all throughout the rest of the date. It went so well. Better than well more like fantastic. I stroll in the house with a sack of Chinese food and a stupid ass grin that's going to break my face sooner or later. Those little bastards snatch the bag out of my hand but nothing can kill my vibe. I know its too early to tell but damn, Eva might be the one. I don't think I will be able to find another one like her. Brian walks up to me putting soy sauce on his teriyaki chicken and rice. I look down at my little cousin and the grin still hasn't wavered. "Aren't you glad I sent you to the grocery store?" I don't even respond I simply nod and join the boys in the kitchen. ×××××× @nessaimagines