#is it a personal preference or is just plain harmful?

[random-stuff-doo-bop]

Genuine question, is fionna and cake transphobic? I’ve seen people talking about how gender-bends like this are transphobic but a lot of people don’t seem to have a problem with fionna and cake so idk what to make of the show.

Feel free to ignore this if it's a bad/offensive question but yeah if any people (specifically other trans people) have any thoughts on this, I would appreciate hearing them, bc I don’t want to support this show if it’s pushing harmful stereotypes or something. But I also don’t want to like. make a big deal out of this if I’m overthinking it. Idk, I'm just confused

[wardenparker]

Hummingbird Has Landed, ch 2

Marcus Pike x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

After the debacle of his failed engagement and relocating to Washington to take charge of his task force, newly minted Special Agent Marcus Pike is ready to get back out into the dating pool once more. A slew of bad dates has him feeling a little down, and he takes an old friend up on an invitation to get away and get his head on straight. Imagine his surprise when he finds not only fresh air, but his soulmate as well - hiding in plain sight but in the unlikeliest of places.

Rating: Mature, but this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 12.6k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: occasional mention of American politics, pregnant character, food/alcohol consumption, mentions of clothing/regulated dressing for occasions, mentions of therapy because we believe in self care here, reader is in a previous relationship, love triangle* Mentions of sick loved ones, mutual pining, personal guilt, relationship turmoil. Summary: After only knowing Marcus for a brief time, you can already feel emotions beginning to build. Will that spell trouble for the relationship you've worked so hard to build with Sam, or will something else altogether begun to sow seeds of doubt? Notes: Once again I'm afraid I have to ask forgiveness in the edit of this chapter. I went away for a few days this week and ever since my chronic illness has been utterly kicking my ass. Hopefully I didn't miss too many errors here.

Game night will probably go down in the year's history as one of the best and most fun times that Marcus has had in a long time. He had laughed until his stomach hurt, his abs aching the next week for at least three days. He's gotten an open invitation back, but he doesn't know if that was a good thing, if he's honest with himself. His attraction to you is something that he's got to get ahold of if he's going to socialize with you more. It seems like everything about you just makes the heavens sing and the sun shine. It's crazy and he hates that, considering you are very happy in a relationship.

Eastern Market is his usual haunt on the weekend, preferring it to a generic grocery store, and he’s lost in thought enough that he doesn’t notice a familiar face at the florist’s stand across the way as he’s walking through the stalls. "Some peaches will be good." Marcus decides, looking through some of the fruits that have been trucked in from warmer states. "Peach smoothies." He decides, walking towards the gorgeous plump peaches on display.

If you were any other person in the world, it would be you who bumped into him and not the Secret Service agent contractually obligated to come along on your errands. As it is, when Agent Bailey defends you from being bumped into by the familiar figure of Marcus Pike, you’re the one who apologizes. “Oh! I’m so sorry, excuse u—Marcus?”

“Oh, hi!” Marcus shakes his head, reaching out and taking your arm. “I am so sorry. I guess I wasn’t paying attention.” He apologizes. “Was focused on getting some peaches and didn’t notice anything or anyone, obviously.” He flushes slightly, feeling that pull towards you and hating that he looks like a jerk, or maybe just thoughtless, in front of you. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

"Not at all." The flowers in your hands and the canvas shopping bags on your arm aren't harmed either, and you find yourself smiling much more brightly than you were even a second ago. "No harm done to me or to Agent Bailey, not to worry. Is it errand day for you, too?"

“Trying to eat healthier.” Marcus admits, slightly upset by the prospect but he figures that just comes with getting older. “Figured the produce here would be better than in a grocery store. Are these for the inn?” He asks, looking at the flowers in your hands and immediately reaches for them. “Let me help.”

"I thought my apartment could use some brightening up." He's seen the organized chaos that you live in and you're not embarrassed by it by any means, but there is a small sting to buying your own flowers just a few days before Valentine's Day. Sam isn't a flowers guy and that's perfectly fine, but you're definitely a flowers girl. When Marcus scoops them up without a second thought and stays by your side, you can feel your cheeks heat up. "I, um—thank you.

“Of course.” He huffs, as if newly made acquaintances should always scoop up flowers from you. “You chose brilliantly. They are gorgeous. Have you already paid for them?”

"Yes, so don't even try." It's just a playful warning that comes with a waggle of your finger, but you really have a feeling that he would try to pay for them if you hadn't.

He grumbles at that slightly. “Well, okay.” It’s almost pathetic that he takes note of what kind of flowers you like and he smirks. “So which flower is your favorite in this?” He asks.

"These," you point out a geometrically fascinating flower with petals that seem to spiral endlessly. "They're called camellias. We called them Winter Roses when I was growing up, but I've always loved them." The intimacy of the question goes straight over your head, just excited to have something pretty to split amongst the small vases in your little space.

“Camellias.” Marcus repeats the flower, filing away the information even though he shouldn’t use it. “They are beautiful.”

"Not everyone has them, so I tend to get my flowers here just to make sure they're in the mix." Barely aware that you're standing in the middle of a bustling market with people trying to move all around you, you have to shake away the warmth settling in you that is definitely not due to any kind of attraction. Nope. Not even a little. Not at all. "You, um..." you gesture to the next stall, where he was originally headed when the collision happened. "Peaches?"

“Peaches? Oh right, peaches.” Marcus laughs at himself and shakes his head. “Yeah, sorry, I’m – I forgot.” He snorts. “I was thinking about fresh peach smoothies.”

"Ooooo, that sounds incredible." All of a sudden it's the best idea you've heard all day, and you grin mischievously. "It's not exactly standard, but the next time you're craving a sweet after having Indian take out? Make a peach smoothie. It's got that same vibe as a mango lassi but it's slightly sweeter, and it's the most refreshing thing ever."

“I was actually thinking about having Indian tonight.” Marcus admits with a grin. “To reward myself for eating healthier.”

"Best reward in the world." You agree easily. "I told myself I was going to cook tonight and make sure there were leftovers for another day this week, but I am teetering dangerously close to just calling for take-out as well."

"Well..." Marcus almost doesn't offer, because of the fact that you have a boyfriend, but he is truly meaning this as a friendly offer. "If we went to have Indian together, it wouldn't be as bad as ordering it as take out, would it?" He ventures, raising his brows in offer.

You should say no, You should absolutely say no. Not because the invitation is improper in any way — after all, he's a friend. But because of the way your heart bumps and skips at the offer like you hope he means it as more. He doesn't, and that is a good thing. In fact, Marcus and Sam got along fairly well at game night. But you can't help the way your cheeks burn pleasantly. "DuPont Circle?" You ask, confirming that he means he was intending to order from the same place you were. When he nods, you do too. "That sounds really nice."

"This way..." He's immensely happy you are agreeing to come to eat with him. "We can order the samosas and pakoras and not feel any guilt what so ever." He tells you, grinning at you.

"No guilt, but definitely extra time at the gym." His smile is dangerous, but apparently your self-preservation instincts aren't nearly as good as you think they are, because the only alarm bell going off in your head is the one that says Don't Let It Become a Date! which you just brush off. Surely that won't even be a possibility. It can't, because you and Sam have a good thing going. "Although, you're not masochistic enough to have my little brother as your biweekly gym buddy, so your trips are probably far less traumatic than mine," you offer with a laugh.

"Nope." Marcus chuckles. "I just torture myself by running around the Mall during my lunchbreaks instead of spending it in museums or at the food trucks." He snorts. "I just get to smell them just off the Mall."

"Have you lived in DC for three years without doing any of the food trucks out on the Mall?" That might be the most appalling thing you've ever heard in your life, and you nearly drop the peach that you had just picked up to add to your basket.

"Oh no." He laughs at that. "First six months I was here, I fucking lived off food trucks." He admits. "I was undercover and my contact checked in with me through the food trucks."

"Oh, thank God." The both of you laugh as you wipe imaginary sweat of your forehead as though it had made you nervous. "If you had never had Julia's Empanadas, I might have had to drag you down to the Mall right now."

"Then I wouldn't have room for Indian." Marcus groans, rolling his eyes at the thought of how many empanadas he would try to fit in his stomach if you went to Julia's Empanadas. "And I'm really craving Indian."

"I am too." Although, now you're going to be thinking about empanadas for ages. Maybe you'll have to try making some. "How has your week been?" Making small talk is easy with him, as you poke through the fruit bins to find peaches, apples, and pears to snack on this week.

"It's been alright." He shrugs slightly. "Depositions for a few upcoming cases. So I've had to revisit case files and work with the district attorney's office to make sure that there aren't any surprises."

"Paperwork and meetings," you nod in understanding. "I get that. Being my own boss is a hell of a lot more paperwork and meetings than I ever thought it would be."

"Ordering supplies, creating events to drum up interest. Balancing budgets." He nods. "I can imagine that it feels like it's hard to get a free moment for yourself."

The way you nod is tired but proud. Every ounce of hard work that you put into that inn is worthwhile, and you do it with straight shoulders and as much determination as you can possibly summon. "Today is my first day off in...two or three weeks? It's...a lot. But it's so worthwhile. And it means that Syd has her place, too. I wouldn't trade it for anything."

"So how did you come to have the inn?" Marcus has been curious about that. "Was it always your dream? Or something you fell into?'

"I really, really liked throwing parties when I was younger." That's the easy way to start, as you both move to the line to pay for your bundles of fruit at this particular stall. "That grew up into loving to have guests over all the time. And then dreaming about running a hotel. So I took my sociology and history double major and got a job a hotel in Philly after college, putting myself through a hospitality degree while I started learning the ropes. It was a lot of years of working my way up, but eventually I got hired as the manager for the Inn at Jones Point under the old owners. They were struggling to keep up with new technology and losing clients because of it, and then..." Your eyes flick up to Marcus, almost apologizing for telling him the whole story. "We found out the reason Anita was having so much trouble learning the new technology was early-onset dementia alongside a sizeable brain tumor. I bought the inn from them when they made the decision that a comfortable end to her life was the most important thing they could do. Michael – Anita's husband – he comes around once a week for dinner and to check up on the place now that she's gone. He likes to keep an eye on it for her."

“That’s….” Marcus softens so much at the background story. “Beautiful. You are maintaining their legacy while adapting it to the new realities of time. Weathering time.”

"That farmhouse has been standing since the 1700s. We're just part of its legacy, not the other way around." The pair of you step up to be next in line, with Agent Bailey standing mere feet away managing to look imposing and nonchalant all at once. "The best part is that it could give Sydney her restaurant, and Juan a way to find himself in all the event planning. We didn't know what a team we'd be until we got going and now it's...it's just amazing."

“That’s incredible, and the fact that the place runs so smoothly is a testament to your hard work.” Marcus praises. He’s read some of the reviews and they are all positive, even the ones that had events beyond your control.

“That’s very kind of you.” Kind is an operative word for Marcus. As are sweet, funny, intelli— Nope, stop it, you’re getting dreamy again. Even the momentary distraction of having to pay for fruit is a welcome one if it gets your mind off that track.

Ouch. Kind is such a word that lands him in the friend zone. Which is where he has to be with you, but it still hurts. No longer edgy or cool like he was when he was in his old band. “What else do you need to get?” He asks, swinging his head around at the options available.

“I’m almost done actually.” It didn’t escape you that he flinched slightly when you were trying to be grateful and at least a little complimentary, and suddenly your stomach flips in fear that he might not like spending time with you are much as it seems. Or that you’d done something wrong. “I just wanted to get some fresh bread. But…I don’t know how much more you have to do.”

“Nothing.” He promises, shooting you a grin. “The least I can do is carrying things. Since you are saving me from a night of trying to cook.”

“Never learned to cook or just never got good at it?” There is a difference, after all, and it isn’t about want. Some people find cooking to be an incredible challenge. He gives you a look when you take your parcel of fruit from the vendor and accepts it on your behalf with thanks. Like a damn gentleman, you think with a pant in your chest.

“Never really had the time or the inclination.” He admits. “It’s hard to be enthusiastic about cooking for one, you know what I mean?”

“But that’s when you get to experiment!” Maybe it’s years of being friends with Sydney, whose world revolves around her tastebuds, but cooking has always been an outlet for you. It’s one of the only things you dislike about your apartment —the teeny tiny kitchen. “You can test out new things and weird combinations, and if it’s not great then the only person who knows is you. But if it’s awesome?” You grin up at him like you’re unveiling some kind of ultimate secret. “You become a rockstar at the next office potluck.”

Marcus chuckles. “I’m a rockstar anyway.” He jokes. “I’m the one who brings in the pizza and Chinese for the late nights in the office.”

“Okay, actually, that does count for a lot.” Walking in the direction of the bakery where you get all of your sweet treats and fresh bread, you readjust your shopping bag on your arm and try to glance around the place to survey your surroundings the way Agent Bailey has been teaching you. A comprehensive knowledge of your surroundings, she calls it. “I can’t really cook for my staff much when they have Sydney’s kitchen nearby, but I leave baked goods in the break room from time to time as a thank you. They work so hard.”

“There’s nothing better than snagging a muffin or a cookie when you’re rushing around.” Marcus agrees wisely.

“Or a slice of pizza.” It sounds like he works hard to keep his team in good spirits the same way you do, and you have to commend that in someone who works in such a dour field. Even art crimes — being less violent in nature, according to what you looked up the other night out of sheer curiosity — can’t possible be all sunshine and roses.

“Exactly.” He nods. “Sometimes we have all night surveillance or going through the evidence when something is time sensitive. My teams work better when they are well fed, and know how much they are appreciated.” He shrugs slightly, “everyone could benefit from know that every now and again.”

"Sometimes the weddings we run are just...they're insane. Or last year we had an entire family reunion take over the grounds for four very long days. I can't imagine it's half as stressful as what you deal with but the days can be really long and busy in their own right." For what it's worth, at least, you do love your job. And it's obvious that Marcus feels just as passionately about what he does.

“Oof.” He winces. “I bet the staff wanted to break out a bottle of bubbly when they were checked out.” Marcus jokes, chuckling slightly. “Yeah a lot of people don’t understand that when you love your job, the long hours are worth it.”

"Yeah." A tinge of regret breaks your smile, barely twitching in the corner of your mouth, and you barely nod. He can't possibly know what kind of a nerve he's hit — hell, you barely know yourself and you're the one feeling it. It just...it stings.

“Did I say something wrong?” He asks, immediately concerned when your smile seems almost sad.

"No." You reassure him much too quickly, and flinch in your own right when he looks skeptical. "It's just...not everyone thinks what I do is as worthwhile as, say, something like what you do. A—and that makes sense. Running an inn and upholding the law are—they're not the same. I'm not saying they are. It's just...that important to me. That's all."

“Whoever believes that is wrong.” Marcus insists wholeheartedly. “Running an inn is absolutely crucial. Maybe not to everyone, but to the people who need a little escape, a retreat to relax and revive themselves, your inn is a haven to them.” He is speaking passionately because he believes it. “When I’m out of town on a case, I hope that I can book a little inn. Something more personable than a Holiday Inn, so when I come back, it’s like a little slice of home.”

“I appreciate that. Really. It’s—I guess it’s a sore spot at the moment and I didn’t realize it. That’s all.” And you are absolutely not going to allow yourself to indulge in the image of Marcus coming back to the inn for you. Your place is not his ‘ little slice of home’. Even if you’re wondering what the would feel like if it was real.

“Well, you can always gripe and complain if you need to.” He promises.

“No, that’s—that’s not it.” It’s a little embarrassing, if you’re honest, but that’s only because you’re fighting being attracted to the man beside you. Otherwise you would just be chatting to a friend. “I just…don’t get to spend as much time with Sam as he would like. That’s all. Because we both have busy jobs.”

Marcus winces. “With the job he has, it would be hard unless you didn’t work.” He murmurs quietly. “But what counts is that you make the time you do have together special.”

“That’s what I said. Making the most of our time it’s what is most important.” The topic had come up again in conversation when you and Sam had talked about next steps — through the odd avenue of discussing your commute. His house to the inn isn’t a prohibitive drive, but it will warrant either having a lot of work done on your car or getting an upgrade. Right now you have no commute whatsoever, so you’re barely using your car outside of town.

“My favorite thing to do with my ex-wife was to curl up and watch a movie.” He admits. “Or work on a crossword together.”

“Those…” You laugh quietly, almost self-consciously, and shrug with the air of someone who is just about to give up. “Are the things I do with my good friend Agent Bailey, here. Though she kicks my ass at the Times Sunday crossword every single week.”

He rolls his eyes at himself. “I know it’s an old person’s activity, but I was normally exhausted from the academy.”

“Don’t you dare besmirch the Times Crossword.” A waggles finger and disapproving tsk seems to amuse him and it makes you smile, too. “That’s a mandatory topic of conversation at my mother’s dinner table.”

“Your mother enjoys the Times Crossword?” He asks, grinning at you. “She would get along with my parents. They have two subscriptions just so they can each do their own.”

“I’m keeping that in mind for Dad’s birthday this year.” It’s a brilliant idea. They would love to make a competition of it. It would be the highlight of their week.

“My parents got it as a wedding present and they enjoyed it so much, they kept it.” He tells you, smiling fondly at the memory of the two of them arguing playfully over their crosswords.

“That’s incredibly sweet.” There is a crowd at the bakery, as to be expected, so you and Marcus step into line to wait your turn. “I love the idea of being able to share small things with your partner. They’re every bit as important as the grand gestures, if not more.”

“Sometimes the smaller gestures are the most meaningful.” He admits with a grin. “I love cherry Danishes, and so did my ex. We would find these combo boxes of assorted and she would get the cherry one.”

“Giving up your favorite Danish flavor is not small.” An attempt at lightening the already light and sweet conversation is maybe…just trying to keep your own mind off of things. But that somehow doesn’t keep you from admitting the truth before you can stop yourself. “I have yet to meet the man I would give up my lemon poppyseed muffin for.”

“That’s only because you’ve never traded for a raspberry crumble muffin.” Marcus vows, smirking at the way you look stingy, even though he knows for a fact you aren’t.

“You’re on, Pike.” The smirk on his lips spreads to yours as effortlessly as breathing. “But lemon poppyseed is pretty impossible to unseat.”

“I don’t think you’ve ever had a raspberry crumble then.” He huffs, looking offended at the idea. “But I don’t think this place has them. I get them from a little bakery near the Bureau. I’ll have to bring you one.”

“I’ll get you a lemon poppyseed from the coffeeshop I go to in Old Town.” Even as its coming out of your mouth you know it sounds like flirting, but the fact is that you just feel so naturally comfortable with him. There is nothing flirtatious about muffins, you tell yourself. Nothing at all. “We can compare notes.”

“That sounds like a plan to me.” Marcus is extremely happy that you would like to make plans with him, any plans. Even if it’s just a friendly wager. “I’ll get the raspberry crumble. I say we each get two. And if you like the other one so much, you have to give up both.”

“Deal.” You put your hand out to him, willing to make a friendly bet on almost anything. That’s gotten you and your brother in trouble before, but this is harmless.

Marcus grins as he takes your hand, imagining that lightning bolts are shooting up his hand. Winking, he laughs, “just don’t be disappointed when you break that little rule of yours for me.” He boasts.

“We’ll see.” The tone of the thing really tries for teasing, but you end up so taken aback by the electricity in shaking his hand that you fluster — which is only compounded when you end up next in line and completely forget the word for ‘sourdough’ in the process.

“I, uh, I want-“ you seem completely out of it, and the bored looking boy behind the counter seems to be getting annoyed with you. “Can we have just a second?” Marcus asks, pulling you back and allowing another couple to go ahead of the two of you. “I’ve completely forgotten what I wanted.” He takes the blame, not wanting to embarrass you.

“Bread?” You manage to supply, feeling like a world class idiot for clamming up on something so routine. If being around him is going to be this big of a problem, you need to get yourself in order.

“Yeah, bread.” He nods, wrinkling his nose slightly. “What’s that type that I like?”

At this point he could mean him or he could mean you, or he could even just be speaking in theoreticals, but you have you head in straight enough again to blow out a breath and remember yourself. “Sourdough. I forgot the damn word for sourdough.”

“Thats it.” He snaps his fingers and looks back at the boy. “Could we get some sourdough bread?”

“Sure.” The kid looks at the both of you like you’ve gone insane but turns around to bag a loaf of freshly baked bread without a second thought for his strange customers.

Marcus pays for the bread, even with you huffing beside him and guides you towards the clearing. “That wasn’t that bad.”

“Only because you saved me from sputtering like an idiot.” It’s beside the point that he is also the reason you were sputtering in the first place. That doesn’t matter. It’s the fact that you couldn’t keep it together that bothers you. “Thanks for that.”

“Not at all.” He waves off your thanks. “Everyone has those moments.” He promises, smiling at you.

There is such a moment of relief when you exhale again that you have to make light of it or else you’re in danger of feeling far more grateful than is probably necessary, and that makes your chest ache in a dull and insistent kind of way. “That’s either very sweet of you or a complete placation, but either way I appreciate it.”

“No placation, I promise.” He crosses his finger over his heart and smiles at you. “Anywhere else?”

“That was the last thing for me.” Even though you have plans to have dinner with him that night you still can’t help feeling a little disappointed that the impromptu shopping trip has come to an end. “Unless you needed something else?”

“Well…” Marcus looks around, not wanting to let you leave just yet. “Maybe I could find a plant to kill?” He asks. “Something to brighten up my place?”

"Bit of a black thumb?" The excuse to not say goodbye yet is welcome, and you end up smiling more broadly than you mean to. "Let's see what we can do about that."

“More that I forget to set up someone to water my plants when I go out of town and they die miserable, thirsty deaths while I’m away.” He flashes you a guilty grin. “I’m a murderer.”

“Very rude of you to do to your plants.” The wholesome, straight-faced nod that you cry for cracks on a giggle, though, and you nod in the direction of an entirely different florist stand than the one you were at before. “What you need is a succulent.”

“That sounds a little dirty.” Marcus admits, not even realizes how flirtatious that sounds.

It does. And you didn’t mean for it to. You were just talking about the type of plant he could get. But then there’s that grin on his face and it’s so fucking puckish and * handsome* that you practically groan about how unfair the whole damn thing is. “Whoops?” You offer, obviously not apologetic in the least.

He snorts and winks at you again. “I don’t mind. Sometimes being a little dirty is a good thing.” It’s borderline inappropriate, so Marcus doesn’t say anything else.

“Sometimes it’s the fun of an otherwise boring day.” But since you’re genuinely afraid you might say too much if you go ahead with this line of thought, and since Agent Bailey is steadily avoiding your eyes like an older sister trying not to bear witness to your trouble making, you clear your throat and change the subject. “I think I snake plant would work for you. They’re really easy to care for and great for beginners or busy people.”

Marcus takes your lead and nods seriously. “I’ll take some advice. Any advice.” He shrugs slightly. “I wish I had the time for pets, but I don’t and it’s wrong to do that to them.”

“If I could have a dog, I would have a little corgi or a Yorkie in a heartbeat.” It comes with an almost wistful sigh, but you feel the same way he does. It would be cruel to the animal you’re supposed to be taking care of. “But since I have no concept of work-life balance? I have plants.”

“I’ll start with plants.” Marcus huffs. “If I can keep one alive? Maybe I’ll move on to cats? They are low maintenance.”

“Cats are fantastic. Sydney and Anna Leigh always had a couple when we were growing up and they can’t be the sweetest animals in the world.” There is a florist that specializes in succulents and potted plants further into the market and you head that way, chatting as you go. “I just always said I would want my kids to grow up with a puppy.”

“Puppy, a swing set in the yard and dinner together.” Marcus adds wistfully, having his own version of that same dream. “Every kid needs a puppy pal.”

“That’s exactly what I said.” And the knot in your stomach tells you that that isn’t a coincidence — that the future you’ve dreamt about probably lines up with the one he wants in so many different ways.

“We had my dog for nearly twenty years.” Marcus tells you. “He was my best friend and the best soul I’ve ever met.”

“I got Alex instead of a dog,” you giggle, silliness tinging the edge of his sweet nostalgia. “My little brother.”

“Isn’t a younger brother the same thing?” He asks with a grin.

“Very much so. And Alex is as much Golden Retriever as he is human.” If he were here, he’d give you so much grief for that comparison, but you stand by it. “What kind of dog did you have?”

Marcus chuckles. “A golden retriever.” He tells you without skipping a beat. “I’ve got a picture of him, wanna see?”

“Absolutely!” They say you’re either a kid person or a dog person, but you’re definitely both. Anything cute and squishy is right up your alley.

Digging out his wallet, it might be a little old fashioned to carry a physical photo of the favorite family pet, but he likes looking at it sometimes. He’s holding his dog, Hansel, in the picture. The white around the dog’s snout indicative of the older age of the golden retriever. “Here he is. Hansel.”

“What an angel!” If you could jump right through the photo and squeeze his beautiful face you would — the only problem is that you don’t know if you mean young Marcus or the dog.

“Wasn’t he?” Marcus hums happily. “He slept in my room growing up. Hated me leaving for college, although I hated being apart from him too.”

"How could you possibly leave that face? Look at him!" Yeah, it's definitely the dog that you're talking about. At least right now.

“Yeah.” He smiles down at the photo, unable to resist brushing his thumb over the canine face with happy memories flooding through him. “He was the best.”

"So would you want another Golden Retriever?" Looking between him and the photo, you think you might be able to guess the answer yourself. "Or will no other Golden ever live up to him?"

“Probably not.” Marcus shrugs. “He was from a litter of puppies at the shelter. It was just a coincidence that he was a pure Golden.” He frowns slightly. “I would want to adopt. It’s the best way to give a loving home to an animal.”

"Adopting is the only way." On that, you can firmly agree. But you point to the florist stand up ahead and touch his arm gently in an unconscious moment of casual comfort. "First, let's get you a plant to adopt."

“Yes, I would prefer adopted over nursery grown.” Marcus jokes, trying to ignore how easy it is to be with you. You can just be a friend. It’s possible and it’s possible he’s lying to himself.

"Wild, orphaned plants wandering the lonely roads with all their belongings tied up in a little bandana on a stick," you tease, conjuring the image of a cartoon orphan as best you can. To the girl behind the counter, you turn your full attention and the best conspiratorial smile you can conjure. "We're looking for something he'll have trouble killing," you confide with a chuckle. "Something like a snake plant, maybe? Or if you have a better recommendation we're all ears."

“It’s best to start them out with a plant before having pets or kids, isn’t it?” She asks with a grin, eyeing Marcus in amusement. “But he seems like the trustworthy type to me.”

"A fine, upstanding citizen if ever I saw one." The smirk you offer her is playful, and you glance up at Marcus beside you. "Plus, I'll be keeping an eye on the situation. For the good of the adoptee, of course."

“Of course.” She nods seriously, even though there is a definitely shaking to her voice, like she’s holding back laughter. “Let me show you the best options for a recovering black thumb.”

It's several minutes of back and forth with the florist who parries your playful banter well, and you end up leaving her stand with not just a lovely potted snake plant for Marcus, but an identical one for your apartment as well. "I had to!" You coo, when Marcus laughs at the little plant that you're cradling like a newborn. "It's so precious! And they're twins! I couldn't just leave it abandoned."

“Well, we have to name them.” Marcus decides. “Twin names.” He grins at you, “what do you think?”

"Luke and Leia," you joke right away, because that will always be the first pair of twins you think of in any situation. "Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum? Oh, do the creepy girls from The Shining have names?"

Considering The Shining was his first foray into horror when he was younger, it was also one of his favorites. "No, they were just called Grady Daughters one and two." He tells you. "But..." He whips out his phone. "They are Lisa and Louise Burns, in real life."

“So are the plants Grady and Burns, or Lisa and Louise?” Either way they’re exceedingly silly choices, and you’re going for it.

“Either one works for me.” Marcus laughs. “It depends on if the plants are male or female.” He jokes.

“I think we probably get to pick,” you joke right back, making a show of rolling your eyes at him even though you’re laughing.

“Hmmmmm.” He pretends to take a closer look at his plant. “I’m going to surprise you.” He decides. “My plant is female.”

“Oh, that’s no surprise to me.” The smirk you shoot back at him is probably the lightest and most carefree you r felt in ages, and just for the moment you’re not going to second guess it. You’re just going to revel in the moment. “All my plants are female.”

He snickers with you and then tilts his head. “Lisa or Louise for you?” He asks, before he answers. “I bet you want the name Louise. You’ll pretend it’s for Thelma and Louise.”

“I—how—” Staring at him in utter confusion does not help matters one bit, but you still don’t have any clue as to how he could possibly have guessed that about you after only having met you two whole times. “So?” You ask after a second, realizing you’re laughing with the absurdity.

You have the most beautiful laughs Marcus has ever heard, and he loves that he caused it. There’s a flash of guilt that comes with the thought and he decides to reel it back into the scope of reality. You are becoming a friend, nothing more. “Who wouldn’t?” He asks, still chuckling. “They were the greatest female duo in modern cinema. In my opinion.”

“They line up against Idgie and Ruth from Fried Green Tomatoes.” You’ll stand by that pairing until the day you die, but the way warmth is spreading through your chest and your fingers ache dully from wanting to reach out for him is a special, damning sort of agony. “And I will die on that hill.”

“I had completely forgotten about Idgie and Ruth.” He admits, hanging his head in shame. “Forgive me.”

“Just this once.” There is still a teasing grin on your face when your phone goes off in your pocket. Sam’s name splashed across your caller ID and guilt crawls through your veins immediately. “I’m sorry,” you apologize, glancing up at Marcus. “Just give me one second.”

Marcus catches a glimpse of the name and it’s like he’s doused with cold water. “Of course.” He murmurs politely, turning towards a little book stand to give you some privacy, beating himself up for flirting with another man’s significant other.

“Hey honey.” The second you pick up the phone with a plant in your other arm and your groceries weighing on your shoulder, that is the second you feel most self-conscious.

“Hey,” Sam’s voice comes over the line and he has a straightforward attitude, jumping into the reason for his call. “I’ve had a dinner invite tonight, some potential donors.” He tells you. “Can you make it?”

“I—” It’s not like it’s an unusual request. If he has a work event tonight then the best possible person he can have at his side is you. The idea of having dinner with Marcus had been so uplifting, and now cancelling on him makes you feel awful. But this is your boyfriend. “Yeah. Yeah, I can make it. Where and when? Is there a dress code?”

Sam rattles off the address and dress code. “Thanks honey, I knew I could count on you.” He tells you before he murmurs to someone else. “Hey, I’ve got to go, I love you.” The line clicks off immediately.

“I love you too.” It’s said to the silence, and you look down at your phone for a moment before pocketing it again. Marcus has stepped away to give you privacy, and you shift your weight from one foot to the other before walking back over to him. “I’m really sorry,” you murmur, actually looking as apologetic as you feel. “Can we postpone dinner tonight?”

“Oh….yeah, of course.” He hates the way the feels rejected, but you have priorities, ones that aren’t him. “That’s no problem at all.” He nods quickly and looks around. “Well, we should probably get your things to your car, right?”

“I—I’m really sorry.” Repeating it just makes you feel worse. But both of you feel worse, unbeknownst to you, and you walk in the direction of your car with Agent Bailey her usual two steps behind. “Something came up.”

“Not a problem at all.” Marcus promises you, plastering on a smile as you turn to him at your car. “I understand. Believe me, I’ve had plenty of things come up.”

"It was really nice to run into you today." There is no word of a lie or even exaggeration in that, and you take your flowers from Marcus's arms carefully, loading it into the backseat with your other bags and Louise the snake plant.

“Yeah, it was nice seeing you. Marcus holds up his plant. “Thanks for the help.” He hums. “Hopefully I won’t kill Thelma.”

"If you do, try to make it as spectacular as possible." Offering him a half smile, you realize that you just wish you could give him a big hug, but that would be totally out of line. So instead all you can think to do is shift your weight awkwardly again before opening your car door. "I'll see you around, Marcus."

“See ya.” He nods and turns around to walk to his car. He doesn’t turn around, knowing that it would look weird if he did.

Once you’re in the car with Agent Bailey and focused on getting back home to put everything away and make a cup of coffee before you have to start getting ready for the night, you sigh softly and sit back in your seat. You can feel the curiosity of the Secret Service agent beside you and you wonder if you look as guilty as you. “That was a nice surprise.”

“Yes.” Agent Bailey hums. “Special Agent Pike was quite a surprise.”

“He’s nice,” you defend, very aware that you’re defending yourself and not him.

“He’s very nice.” She agrees. “And exactly who he says he is.” Of course a background check had been done on the agent, which she was glad of now that he had popped back up on radar. Not quite sure what to make of the interaction at the market, it’s also not her place to judge it.

"Well, that's a comfort." The drive back to Alexandria won't take long, but you twist your hands around the steering wheel a few times before pulling out into traffic. "Unfortunately, tonight will be the opposite," you tell her with a dramatic sigh that cushions the blow of having to attend an impromptu event. "Sam asked me to come to a dinner party tonight. Last minute invitation, I guess somebody had a seat they needed filled and asked him."

“I see.” Now she has to find out where you are going to be, who is on the guest least and it means overtime tonight. She doesn’t sigh, but she wants to, much preferring to go to small Indian restaurant over some political function. “I’m sure it will be a lovely evening.”

"I know you have to vet everything." The process seems exhausting, but you would never question the agent's ability to get her job done. "It's a private party at Arthur Connesby's house. The aerospace tech guy? Apparently it's a party for his wife, but everybody invited are Sam's constituents. I have a feeling they're going to spend the night trying to pitch their own interests to him, but if nothing else they might donate to his next campaign if they feel like they got to be friendly with him." It sounds like it will be a fairly boring night of overly rich old men feeling self-important, but Sam asked you to be there and that's why you're going.

“Noted.” The agent is immediately firing off a text to her support team, letting them know about the change of plans tonight.

"I know it's not what we had in mind." The night has gone from staying home and watching a movie and maybe playing cards, to dinner out, to an entire party. It's a lot of jumps in not much time. "And I appreciate you being flexible. Truly."

“It’s my job to protect you no matter what.” She reminds you softly. She enjoys you, has gotten to know you and thinks you are lovely, but you are Hummingbird to her. The First Daughter of the President of the United States and her assignment. She would guard you regardless of what you were doing because it’s her job.

"Right." You nod slightly, eyes cast back out on the road, and try not to slump even a little as you drive. It's not necessary to be everyone's best friend. You know that on a practical level. Right now your energy is better served focusing on the night ahead. "Well, I can still be grateful. So thank you. For...being professional. An very good at your job."

She knows that you are disappointed, but one of the cardinal rules of the secret service is to not be emotionally attached to your assignment. It would be too difficult to make life or death decisions. “Protecting you has been my pleasure.” She promises.

"I appreciate that." For better or for worse, the Secret Service will be a part of your life for the rest of your life. So if you can't be friends, at least you can appreciate each other. For now, though, you ought to focus. A party with your boyfriend's constituents is no place to have your mind wander.

The dinner party is exactly what you imagined it would be. Self important people, boasting about how important they are as they fawn over ‘more’ important people. Or the people who could give them access to the power they wished to have. Sam was in his element, smiling and shaking hands. Listening to ideas with a feigned interest that comes naturally to politicians.

He's charismatic enough to keep their attention but has enough of his own heart left that he does seem to care about issues being brought to him. Unfortunately for these folks, they're talking about a whole lot of things that just one man can't change on their behalf. So all he can really do is listen and express interest in whatever plight it is they have.

You have found yourself in the rather unfortunate position of being inundated by the significant others of these men, and when the party turns to mingling after dinner they somehow manage to whisk you away to the garden where you aren't sure if they're planning on trying to get you to dance with various people, or maybe join their country clubs, You really can't tell which.

“You must tell me, how is living in the White House?” One asks you, under the impression that you are still living with your mother.

“I understand it’s very comfortable.” It’s almost a relief that these women seem not to know a thing about you beside who your mother is. Your greatest fear about the whole thing was being hounded through every day of your life — so far that hasn’t been the case. But it’s been barely more than a month. There’s time. “However, I chose not to reside there.”

“Oh, what a shame.” She hums, wondering why you wouldn’t want to call the most famous house in America home. “I hear that it’s haunted.”

“That is what they say.” And according to your little sister, it’s absolutely true. But an upscale party of relatively stuffy guests like this doesn’t seem like the place to spout tales of your sister taking her homework to the Lincoln bedroom. “And it’s certainly very beautiful.”

“I would love to take a tour sometime.” She tells you, hoping that you might offer to set it up for her. An intimate tour would be amazing.

“I’m sure that can be arranged.” You aren’t the sort of person who would exchange favors, so the thought that this could mean a donation for Sam’s campaign in the near future. Instead, you just know it would be something nice. “I can have something put together for you if you like?”

“That would be lovely!” She exclaimed, sending you a warm smile. “You know, you and the congressman make a beautiful couple. Possibly even presidential one day.” It’s a fishing expedition, feeling you out for your thoughts on a possible run.

"Possibly." And two weeks ago, you might have beamed at that implication. At the idea of Sam moving through his career with such gusto and motivation that he makes it all the way to the White House. But seeing what your father contends with as First Gentleman, the idea of being First Lady sounds overwhelming to you. It's even less likely that you would end up in politics yourself. "Sam takes his work very seriously, and he has high hopes for the future of our country."

“And what about you?” She asks. “You made waves, positive ones in my opinion, during your mother’s campaign about your stance on soulmates.”

"I don't have any political ambitions for myself." Of that, you can absolutely assure her. "While I'm more than happy to support the people around me, I'm very happy with my own career."

“At least until Congressman Chase makes an honest woman out of you.” She hums. “Then it’s so hard to balance your own career while supporting the ambitions of your husband.” There’s a rueful chuckle on her part. “Believe me, I know.”

"I won't be giving up my career." This is always a topic of conversation amongst significant others, you've found, and a topic that your father has contended with on multiple occasions. As your mother's career grew, he became a stay-at-home-dad and raised three kids. Because it was something he wanted to do, not because it was forced on him. And that has always been the key to you. "I own a business. So it's essentially my first child already."

“Oh?” Her brows wing up in surprise. “My apologies. I must have misunderstood.” Her eyes slide past you. “Excuse me, I must go catch Mrs. Jackson before she leaves.” She cuts off the conversation and hustles away.

It's a bit on and definitely abrupt, but the conversation wasn't very enjoyable to begin with so you smile politely and just let it roll off your back. Whatever she 'misunderstood' doesn't really concern you. Some gossip article must have speculated on the next steps of your relationship with Sam and you try not to let that kind of nonsense get to you.

“Having fun?” Sam comes up to you, his hand slipping around your waist and he presses a kiss to your cheek. “You look amazing, especially since it was so last minute.”

"You always like this dress." The first time you wore it was the nominating party after the Democratic National Convention, and then again to a fundraiser in Chicago. That was the night you met Sam, and he had remarked even then that the dress was particularly beautiful. It seemed like the logical choice for tonight based on that alone. "It's a nice party." The food was predictable but tasty, and the drinks are flowing, just like the way you expected the night to go. "Do we think there will be birthday cake?" You ask conspiratorially, looking up at him beside you with a smirk. "Is that something people still do for fancy fiftieth birthdays?"

“Cake is universal.” Sam snorts and nods. “I have it on good authority the cake is a chocolate raspberry mascarpone cream cake.” He tells you, knowing it will be an idea you carry back to Sydney.

"I know exactly what Saturday's dessert special is going to be." Somehow your best friend will turn a classic cake into something elegant and thoughtful, and you know the entire restaurant will go nuts for it. They always do, when Sydney gets to show off. "Are you having a good night? I know you had high hopes for networking tonight."

“It’s going well.” He hums happily and beams at you. “How about you? Working the other side for me?” He teases playfully, aware you don’t usually like campaigning.

"Nothing that will get me in trouble with my Mom's staff." Not that he would ever ask you to do anything like that. Sam doesn't go in for most of the entitled bullshit that other politicians do. "One request for a White House tour that I'll put through the appropriate channels. Nothing too odd."

“Interesting.” Sam looks thoughtful. “Who asked for that?”

"Shelly D'Amario." The wife of District Attorney-turned-Superior Court Judge Raymond D'Amario was one of the few people you had recognized from press coverage of events supporting your mother's campaign. Her husband's politics were lined up with most moderate Democrats, and he tended to hand down verdicts with thoughtful conclusions at the end of each case. He's one of those people you wouldn't have minded at all sitting at this dinner party with, but unfortunately the Judge was not able to attend.

“Oh.” Sam nods. “I was at another dinner with her and the judge just the other night.” He tells you. “Picking his brain about Constitutional law.”

“She was very nice.” Though instinct takes over, and you chew on your bottom lip for a second before going on. “Did you guys talk…about me at all? About us, I mean? At your dinner?”

“Well, naturally you came up.” Sam admits with a slight frown, wondering if Shelly had somehow insulted you. “Not everyone is dating the daughter of the current sitting President. But I didn’t share any private details about you.” He promises. “Or your family.”

“I know you wouldn’t do that.” If he was the sort of person who went around sharing personal details with anyone and everyone, you wouldn’t have been able to trust him. Especially not under the condition you met in. Campaigns are cutthroat. “She just…said something that kind of confused me, that’s all.”

“What confused you?” He asks, trying to recall the exact details of the dinner with the judge and his wife.

Without wanting to imply that he might have said anything, you still glance around you to make sure that Agent Bailey is the only one close enough by to overhear you. “She seemed to be under the impression that I would be quitting my job if we ever have a family. And when I said that wasn’t the case, she said she must have ‘misunderstood’ something and walked away immediately.”

Understand dawns in his eyes and Sam shifts slightly. “Well, that’s not something we’ve talked about just yet.” He reminds you. “That’s a conversation we need to have.”

"Right." You couldn't agree more. "Which is why I was confused that she seemed to have heard an opinion about it somewhere before. But it was probably just some gossip article."

He hesitates and then decides to come clean, you don’t like liars. “I might have voice my hopes for our future.” He admits. “It’s not so unexpected, is it?” He asks. “I’ll be spending a lot of time at different events and I will want you by my side.”

"Sam..." There's disappointment in your voice that you don't bother to hide. Of course he's absolutely entitled to talk about hopes, as he puts it, but you can't believe that he would ever think you would give up the inn. "I own the place, honey. It's not like taking a smaller role in an office or shifting to part time somewhere."

“Yes, you own it.” Sam stresses. “But you can have someone else manage it.”

"But I don't want to have someone else manage it." It's really like you can't believe your ears. Sam has never voiced anything like this before within the dynamic of your relationship and he knows very well how proud you are of your work at the inn and how much it means to you.

By the set of your jaw and the frown on your face, Sam knows that he can’t argue the point right now. He shakes his head, smiling at you and taking your hand. “You’re right. I—I wasn’t thinking about how much you love your inn.” He admits softly. “Let’s just forget about it, hm?”

"O—okay." There he is again. Your understanding, supportive Sam smiling at you and taking the stress out of the situation. The man you started dating almost a year ago. Dependable. "Okay."

“Good.” He pats your hand gently and leans in to kiss you softly. “But I do still want to talk about moving in together.”

"After our date on Tuesday?" The Valentine's night you had settled on together is dinner at a small, family-owned restaurant in his hometown followed by a fundraiser screening of short films made by local high schoolers looking to update their school's resources with the proceeds. Community-oriented is the theme of the night.

“That sounds appropriate.” He agrees with a nod. “For now, let’s just enjoy the rest of the evening.” He looks towards your secret service agent. “Will you be allowed to come to my place tonight?”

"I think that can be arranged." The invitation means you'll be sleeping over at his place twice this week, which is definitely more than you've been able to do lately and maybe that's a good thing. Maybe you just need to refocus yourself. And stop thinking about Marcus, for fuck's sake. You slip your arm around Sam's waist and lean into his side. "I just have to let Bailey know. Her relief agent will have to be told to go to your place instead of mine."

"Of course." Even though it irritates him, he nods. Understanding that you cannot help it right now. After your mother's term, perhaps you will decline protection.

"I know it isn't perfect." He's bristled about lack of privacy before, and though you can't say that you really blame him? There's nothing you can do about it. Secret Service protect for the President's immediate family is mandatory. And hell, you have a Secret Service agent in your apartment every night. At least when you stay with Sam, your agent usually stays in the living room or their car like a stakeout. It's typically left up to them. But still, you do understand the objection. "I'm sorry. It is what it is."

"I know." He sighs softly, hating that the evening has been sidetracked from what he imagined. "I understand. I just don't like them be so close when we are alone." He admits.

"I know." The last five minutes have become increasingly uncomfortable, but you still stick close to Sam and continue smiling, aware that eyes at the party might be on you just like they are anytime you go anywhere outside of your little haven at the inn. "But better that, than someone breaking into your house."

He doesn't point out that he has a security system and his townhouse is in a gate community. There's no point and it would just further cause an discussion that is best left for the relative privacy of his bedroom - with a secret service agent parked outside in his living room. He sighs. "Shall we get more wine?" He asks, trying to change the subject.

"Sure." There are people starting to dance to the music being piped through outdoor speakers, but you're not really in a dancing mood. There's too much swirling around in your mind to be light on your feet. "Wine sounds like a good plan."

Sam leads you over to the bar, ever the gentleman and stands beside you to look at the drink selections. "They have a nice pinot grigio." He murmurs softly.

"Is that what you want too?" The bar is open, of course, but the catering company has allowed the bartender to put out a small and discreet tip jar for the reasonably large party tonight, and you have a few more bills in your purse that you're happy to add to the jar.

"I think I'm going to stick with the pinot noir." He tells you, holding up his almost empty glass.

You order both glasses without hesitation and tip the very pleasant bartender, handing Sam his glass after it's put on the bar top. Just something nice to get the night back on track. At least as far as the two of you go.

"So I think that we should drink our wine and then dance." Sam suggests. It would be a good visual and romantic as a bonus. He's not calculating, but he does understand that optics are important in politics. It's a good opportunity to romance you and look good for the discreet photographers that are roaming around.

"And at some point, eat cake." Trying to lighten the mood a little is really your go-to for diffusing tension in any situation, and the air around the two of you feels a little thick, so you offer him a big smile instead of getting serious again.

"Eating cake is always a good way to spend a night." Sam agrees, smiling back at you.

"Morning." You haul yourself into the restaurant's kitchen the next morning when you arrive bright and early for your eight-a.m. start time looking vaguely less drowsy than usual. The other member of your Secret Service detail — Agent Sisson — has music taste more in line with yours and you'd listened to Duran Duran on your way back to town this morning. That and a cup of strong coffee means that you're feeling okay but definitely in need of breakfast.

“Wellllllll,” Sydney’s grin is bright as she eyes you. “I see the walk of shame has taken on a festive air.” She teases, laughing as she moves over to pour you a cup of coffee. “I take it last night went well?”

“I have enough time to go upstairs and change before work,” you grumble, though you’re smiling and accept the cup of coffee gratefully. “Usual boring party, but I bring you home a new cake flavor combination to try, and it was nice to see Sam.”

She snorts. “Nice to see Sam.” She mimics. “It’s like you ran into him in the store.” She huffs at you. “This is your boyfriend. The man you love.”

“And that’s why it’s nice to see him more than just one measly night a week.” Given that you have a few minutes, you hop up on a stool at the counter beside her work station and groan in appreciation at the slice of sweet Italian brioche and carefully cut piece of frittata she plates up for you without hesitation. “Oh my god, thank you. All I’ve had so far is coffee. We overslept and both had to run out to get to work on time.”

“Overslept…” she rolls her eyes and rubs her stomach. “I wish I could remember what that was like.” She grumbles. “This one is giving me heartburn all the time and keeping my sleep short.”

“They just really want to make sure you remember they’re there,” you tease, picking up a forkful of frittata and not even caring what’s inside. Everything Syd makes it incredible. “Twenty-seven whole more weeks of this, Mama. Get excited!”

“I am, I promise. But the kid can let me sleep in a little, right?” She huffs playfully. “So how was the dinner? You came back from the market in a hurry so I didn’t get to talk to you. Did you forget about this or was it last minute?”

“It was last minute. He got a spontaneous invitation to a potential supporter’s wife’s birthday party.” Oh my god, spinach and artichoke frittata, so fucking good. “She got the gift of bragging rights that a Congressman and the First Daughter came to her party, and a very nice bottle of champagne.”

“Sounds like a ton of fun.” Sydney likes hobnobbing even less than you do, preferring to be on the service side of fancy events. “So you ate mildly bland catered food and drank way too much wine?”

“Exactly. Which is why this tastes even more incredible than usual.” You point at your plate even while scooping up another bite. “So did you and Juanito ever decide what you’re doing tomorrow? I know you scheduled yourself for the dinner rush, but you’ve got to do something.”

“My husband is amazing.” She promises, beaming in delight. “He actually got us reservations at St. Regis for the Valentine’s Day Afternoon Tea.”

“Oh, that’s so sweet! It’s so utterly romantic I could barf.” The momentary flash of jealousy is nothing, and you’re genuinely happy that they’ll be able to get out and do something. They work so incredibly hard and never complain for a second. “It’s perfect, Syd. I want a full report.”

“I’m excited.” She admits, biting her lip and fiddling with her practical silicone wedding band that she wears in the kitchen. “I’ve also been promised a very relaxing massage and a few orgasms.”

“All things which you deserve very much.” You raise your coffee cup in salute to her and grin.

“At the very least.” She huffs, her own grin one of pure happiness. “I am growing Badillo’s baby.” She reminds you, as if it isn’t common knowledge at this point. She’s so proud of being with her soulmate and she cock her head at you curiously. “Have you given any more thought to that tattoo?” She pries gently.

“Yes and no…” It’s much more yes than no, if you’re honest with yourself, but the fact is that it’s probably not good to think about it as much as you have. It’s like a never-ending loop in your mind and you absolutely can’t shake it. “I just don’t know what good it would do to bring it up. Or who I would even bring it up to.”

“You know who you should bring it up to.” She huffs.

“Who?” You challenge, feeling like you’re stuck between a rock and a hard place without doing so much as being awake this morning. “My boyfriend of almost a year who asked me to move in with him and wants to start planning our future? Or the guy I barely know who invited me to dinner yesterday when I ran into him at Eastern Market and looked so hurt when I had to ask him to reschedule that I still feel like I kicked the world’s cutest puppy?” Clearly it’s been on your mind, and Syd is really the one person you can talk to about any of it. But admitting that you’ve been thinking about Marcus feels like cheating and you have always despised cheaters deeply. Being cheated on will do that to a person.

“You ran into Marcus?” Her eyes widen with the new information and she immediately sets down her spoon and walks around the counter to hug you. “Oh honey, talk to me. What happened?” She asks softly. While she might be pushing you to at least ask if you might be soulmates, she doesn’t want you to be upset.

“It wasn’t a big deal…we ran into each other and we finished our shopping together.” It’s such a relief to have a space to talk about it, and yet you know you’re blowing it out of proportion in your head. It was just a coincidence that you ran into him. Not fate. “We were both talking about wanting Indian for dinner so he asked if I wanted to go to the restaurant with him. We were just going to hang out. Then Sam called.”

“And of course you said yes to Sam.” Sydney doesn’t exactly approve of the way Sam seems to think that you wait for his call and will drop everything to accommodate him, but she doesn’t say anything. “How did Marcus take the change of plans?”

“He said he understood and that it was fine.” Which is, technically, what happened. So when you shift your eyes away from hers, Sydney makes a noise and you cave. “He seemed disappointed,” you admit, throwing up your hands. “But I’m probably just projecting that.”

“Anyone would be disappointed to not spend time with you.” Sydney defends immediately, always the best cheerleader for you. “Maybe text him and reschedule?” She suggests. “Friends have dinner, it’s not cheating. You aren’t going out on a date.”

“I know it’s not cheating.” Syd knows better than anyone why you hate liars and cheaters. “I texted him on my way in this morning to reschedule, but I don’t…I don’t know if he’ll respond. He was probably just being polite asking in the first place.”

“I doubt that.” Sydney had seen the covert looks that each one of them had given the other when they weren’t looking during game night. Both of them were curious and she is interested to know about that hummingbird tattoo, it’s not common, despite what you might say.

“Then it’s because I’m best friends with his friend’s soulmate,” you reason instead.

“No, it’s because Juan said that Marcus was trying to be polite but that he was interested in you.” Sydney tells you.

You feel the blood drain from your face shamefully fast, and your eyes dart up to meet your best friend’s. “He said that?”

“Yes.” She isn’t going to lie to you, Juan had told her that. “But, he also said that Marcus respects relationships and he’s not the type of man to make a move on you if you’re in a relationship.” She knows how you feel about that kind of thing and she agrees with you.

“Well…I mean…that’s good? Isn’t it? That just means he’s respectful.” Still , you find yourself sitting on the idea that Marcus likes you and being halfway between mortified and grinning. It feels ultimately childish and yet like your chest is filling full of something very much like joy.

“According to Juan, Marcus Pike is the best man, the best person that he’s ever known.” Sydney acknowledges with a nod, deciding not to comment on your giddy expression. “Even though he was busy with training at the academy, he was always helping with housework or running errands to take care of things.” She shrugs. “His ex-wife was a med student. So I guess she’s a doctor now.”

“It’s just a coincidence.” This mantra of yours is going to get old quick, but you have a partner. A long term one, even. One that until a week or so ago, you had thought you had a future with. Now that resolve is waning and you don’t really know how you started to question yourself so easily.

Sensing that you’ve dug your heels in, she backs off, giving a small shrug. “I’m sure it is.” She hums. “So what are your Valentine’s Day plans with Sam?” She asks. “Did he plan something romantic?”

“We’re going to dinner and then a community fundraiser in his district.” It doesn’t sound romantic, you will admit that, but anything too luxurious you did can be perceived in a very wrong way by the general public if it gets out. A Congressman and the First Daughter going to a spa getaway or the symphony would be seen as being out of touch with the people. “He…wants to talk about the future.”

“And you don’t sound like it’s a conversation that you are eager to have.” She sits down, her own herbal tea in front of her and she frowns slightly.

“I’m…not sure, honestly.” Without hesitation and without filter, the explanation about your conversation with Judge D’Amario’s wife and what Sam said at dinner with them comes tumbling out of your mouth and you can’t help but cringe to yourself when you get it all out in the open air. “Am I overreacting? Please tell me I’m overreacting.”

Sydney winces and gives you a small shrug. “He has known from the beginning that you aren’t the type to want to be a typical politician’s spouse and give up your career.” She reminds you. “Remember that night out in Alexandria? Where we were bar hopping? I had a very frank conversation with him about that.”

“You did?” Your forehead scrunches as you take a sip of coffee. “Then why would he think I would be willing to have someone else manage the inn?”

“I don’t know if I can answer that.” She admits quietly. “But I think he gave them his true ideal. You quitting and being by his side for all his accomplishments.”

“It’s not that I’m not proud of him.” Some would argue that that is what it signals, but you and Sydney are not those types of people. “He’s doing such good work, and I do want to have kids and a house and all that domestic stuff. I just…I don’t want to give up working. And I don’t want to spend the rest of my life standing behind a podium waving politely. I’m—I want to be me, not an extension of my partner.”

“I know that.” She reaches out and takes your hand. “But does Sam? Really? I think that he can convince you that it’s what you want.” She huffs. “I know he’s a good guy, but is he the right guy?”

“Not everybody finds perfect,” you remind her quietly, knowing that that is exactly what she has with Juan. Their version of perfect is about support, respect, and unending silliness, and you’ve always craved the same. But there aren’t many men in the world like Juan. Not many at all.

“That doesn’t mean you need to settle.” She tells you, squeezing your hand gently. “If you are happy, I’m happy. All I want is for you to be happy.”

“To be honest?” Closing your eyes for a second to swallow a sigh, the best you can do is shake your head. “I didn’t think I was settling. But now I can’t help but wonder…”

“Then you owe it to yourself, and to Sam, to make sure before you commit any further.” She suggests, knowing that you would feel horrible about divorcing later on.

“How?” It’s an honest question, since the situation is tangled up in guesses and implied maybes. “Break up with Sam because Marcus might be my soulmate? What happens if I’m wrong and I regret the whole thing? Sam would never take me back and I would deserve it.”

“Ask Marcus to show you the tattoo.” She hums. “That’s not cheating. It would be no different than seeing him in swimming trunks.”

“If he ever responds to me.” Which you sort of doubt. You sort of did just drop plans with him the second your boyfriend called. But you are the kind of person who makes your relationship a priority. You always have been.

“And if he doesn’t….” She shrugs. “You just deal with that.” She frowns. “But I would be upset if you had done the same to me.”

“I’m not saying he doesn’t have a right to be upset with me.” Marcus has a right to feel however he feels. He’s human, after all. “This whole thing is just so out of left field. Especially after spending all of last year talking about freedom of affection and being happy with a partner who isn’t your soulmate.”

“Except you had never potentially met your soulmate.” She pauses and shakes her head. “It doesn’t matter, if you don’t want to pursue it, don’t. Juan won’t say anything and I’ll just encourage him to hang out with Marcus on a guys night.”

“I don’t know,” you admit honestly, poking at the remains of your breakfast with a frown. “First let’s see if he speaks to me again. I gotta go change my clothes for work.” A heavy blanket of tension works on you that wasn’t there when you came home, and you drag yourself off the stool with a swallowed sigh. “Thanks for breakfast, honey.”

“I’m sorry.” She murmurs, wishing for a moment that Juan hadn’t run into Marcus. Hadn’t mentioned a tattoo that was throwing you into a spin. “I’m here whenever you need.”

“Thank you.” Coming around the counter, you wrap your arms around her tightly and inhale, trying to remember your yoga and let the stress roll off your shoulders and not carry it into the work day. “And I’m always here for you. No matter what.”

“I know.” She grins into your shoulder. “You’re my best friend, bitch.” She teases. “I will go to war for you, bury bodies and not even think twice.”

"No hesitation." You link your pinkies together, the same way you have since you were little kids. "I really have to go change now. But thanks for listening to me ramble and fret."

“Anytime.” She scoffs, waving away your thanks. “You’ve listened to me plenty.” Lately it’s been about being a good mother and not completely wrecking Baby Badillo, but she understands the need to just vent. You’re there for one another, both of you, through thick and thin.

______

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HHL: @haileymorelikestupid @anoverwhelmingdin @storiesofthefandomlovers

My Masterlist!

[creatingblackcharacters]

Hi! Neve sent an ask before, so I don't know how this works, but I'll chip in an obligatory I love your account; your reblogs especially were very helpful for my character casts! I'm currently working on a short-ish story where one of my main protagonists falls for a black woman. Their relationship is supposed to have conflicts, but ultimately they're endgame and supposed to be a genuine example of true love. But the thing is, I'm a white woman. I've searched a fair amount of your posts, but I haven't found anything on interracial relationships (Correct me if I've missed it!) What are things you noticed/dislike about how interracial relationships are portrayed in current media? And what are common harmful tropes/misconceptions included in them? I apologize if this subject derails from the conversation, but there's not many places I can find info on this topic, so I might as well ask here:!

Hello! Please capitalize Black when sending me asks. I'll put it on my pinned post, just so everyone is aware.

Tbh, this was likely one I was going to do a full lesson on at some point, so for now, I can give you some points of things that I personally don't like and/or find problematic or distasteful. Also, I've discussed these things in my lessons, particularly 3, 4, and 6. Please refer to my pinned post.

1. When the White partner is always the desirable one.

Black people are attractive, are sexy, have charisma, allure, endearing traits. It's gotten quite old that the partner that's always doing the chasing, regardless of their own quality of character, is the Black character. Maybe the White partner should be putting in the work!

2. An offshoot of that is that the White partner is described as being beautiful and attractive... Because they're White.

Now many people may not realize they're perpetuating this white supremacist belief, but when you're emphasizing "pale" (when we know you mean white) and light, thin hair, colorful eyes and other European beauty standards as what makes them the most attractive person in this story (versus mousy brown hair and tanned skin and plain brown eyes), you're implying that everything else is somehow less than. Especially when their partner is Black. If you're not putting in that much effort to describe the beauty and or marvel of the Black partner and character... It reveals your (however unconscious) beliefs!

3. How the White character is the "weaker", "more gentle", "purer" one.

This tends to happen with White women and white gay men characters. The idea that the Black character is inherently stronger, larger, more brutish, in need of being tamed... It's rooted in racism. Sometimes the White character could wait hand and foot on the Black one to show love and devotion 🤷🏾‍♀️ maybe it's the White character that needs to get their shit together 🤷🏾‍♀️ Black men characters can be masculine and gentle too. Black women characters can be softhearted and strong too. We are as capable of nuance as anyone else.

4. The idea that the Black character is meant to help the White one unlearn racism.

Now this is a touchy one. Because on the one hand, there's obviously going to be learning about culture and exchange in an interracial relationship. It's not wrong to have your Black character point things out to your white one, to help them be a better person bc they're in love and they need to understand and love and respect their partner's Blackness. Preferably they'd already know everything, but that's society. It's an active process.

But... There's this idea that somehow racism will be overcome because "love", and that's just not true. I personally don't think it's very romantic for a racist white woman to meet a Black man and through the story the message is "oh I learned how to see his humanity as we fell in love!" That's not... Cute to me. It is not hot in any way to have some guy or girl find my humanity and I'm supposed to thank and love them for that. That's the bare minimum. I'll respect them when they put in the work to show that they're unlearning, and when they get to a safe point, I'll be like okay. Certainly not "oh she's racist now but I know there's a good heart in there" noooo not really.

5. Every interracial relationship with a white person is not gonna result in a light-skinned baby.

Oohhoohoo I can't wait to elaborate on this one next lesson. 😈

These are my main ones. If any other Black fans have any opinions to add, I'd love to hear them!

[eccentricallygothic]

for a fic idea: chris evans x reader going on a date to a carnival and then having a picnic

Thank you so much for the ask/request! This is literally the first Chris as Chris piece I've ever written omg! I prefer to write requests in hc form so I hope you don't mind…? Hope you enjoy <3 

Disclaimer: For whatever it's worth, this is a fictional version of Chris hence fanFICTION because I don't know him in real life and I don't want to either so no silly talk from anyone, please <3

Warning(s): Fluff, kissing, rides, minor consensual groping, tickling, picnic.

Note: Reader is definitely gender-neutral. Requests are open. 

Chris definitely spoils. 

He's one of those boyfriends who tower over pretty much everyone else in the crowd and have to constantly move his broad shoulders around to avoid touching anyone else.

Holds your hand very tight in his bigger one.

Because he knows how upset you get if someone pushes you both apart as it has happened in the past, resulting in you almost getting lost and crying. 

Has to wear a cap to avoid being recognized so you prefer to hang near the areas where there's masquerades and the like so you can enjoy some privacy as well as freedom. 

Buys you basically everything you look at. 

He's definitely the kind of person who is always so excited about the rides that he drags his partner with him while promising them that he will be there with them and they can hold his hand. 

Isn't a lie, man protects you like it's his job. 

But has more embarrassing photos of you on said rides than you'd like to admit. 

So much carnival food and mini games. 

Coming back home from such places with a huge stuffie is mandatory. 

"Chris!" You squeal as you struggle to jog beside him, your breath hot in your masquerade mask and a hand on your bulging tummy. All you had said was that the caramel popcorn smelt nice. And then you had had to deal with a whole tub of it after he had already bought you so many things to eat before. "Hang on, oh my God!" 

It is cute how his 'mature' age has not harmed his vivacity because it makes him so fun to be around. He is very easy going and just plain comfortable. You don't have to worry about pretending in front of him and he doesn't do it either. 

His good nature and open display of his affection for you is always heartwarming and honestly… downright attractive. 

A confident man who plays no games with nothing but love and adoration to offer.  

"Come on, baby! The photo booth is finally empty!" Chris is excited like a child as he basically shoves the coins in the slot. He has had an eye on the previously packed booth for a while now. 

It was little things like this that mattered to him a lot. 

From your favorites to little souvenirs, cute clips and pictures of you to how you liked your drinks, all your little rituals and what each of your facial expressions meant to everything else, he had them all memorized through quiet observation. 

Being the extrovert that he is, your boyfriend is otherwise very vocal about his affection for you but that does not mean that he makes a show of these things. 

They're just little things that he likes to do for you; his precious baby.

You yelp and then giggle when he plops his butt down on the seat inside the booth with a loud smack before pulling you in with him– more like, on him. 

"Chris!" The squeal has no effect on him and he goes on his goofy ways as you both pose with your masks on for some pictures. 

Then something suddenly shifts in your boyfriend, as it often does when you're in his general vicinity, and he pushes his mask up before doing the same to yours after turning your face towards his. 

His lips are on yours before you know it and his hands bolt from your waist and knee right to your ass, the tight squeeze making you draw in a sharp breath against his mouth. 

The clicks of the camera keep on going as you circle his neck with your arms, pulling him closer and letting his tongue dominate your mouth as you whimper from his natural dominance that comes out in moments like these. 

He doesn't have hardcore tastes for intimate activities but he is always willing to try for you. 

"Taste so good as always, baby" Chris is breathless when he finally pulls back and rests his forehead against yours, the reel reaching its limit at the same time; almost as if it's aware of how private the moment is. 

It's the little quirks. How he wraps his arm around your waist when you become too self aware in public sometimes, or how he tightens his hold on your hand when there's a crowd, the way he's always looking over you and covering the edges and corners of the furniture around you with his hand to make sure it doesn't nick you and how he goes the extra mile to make sure you're reassured and comfortable.

You love this man with your whole heart.

"Or maybe it's all that caramel popcorn" you tease and he widens his bright blue eyes, thick lashes decorating the area below his eyebrows in the prettiest way. 

"Caramel popcorn?!" You start giggling at the comical way he says it. "Did someone say caramel popcorn?!" You know what's coming and so your Snickers increase in volume and you protestingly bounce on his lap, vehemently shaking your head and trying to get away but Chris is a strong man. "THE TICKLE MONSTER ALSO WANTS SOME CARAMEL POPCORN!" You throw your head back and your body twists when his fingers dig into your sides, the blush that his kisses had caused on your face now darkening due to how you were screeching against him, your tummy in pain from all the laughing. 

It's only when there's tears in your eyes and the annoyed people waiting outside call out for you two that you sheepishly step out with your masks down.

This particular carnival has cute little tent-like pavilions facing a huge screen in one of the prettiest gardens that you have ever seen. You don't have to do more than tug at Chris' sleeve and he follows your gaze before buying you two a spot. 

He insists that you don't pay for anything and to let him spoil you because all he wants is the unconditional love and genuine companionship that you provide him.

And honestly, who are you to reject all that Marvel money?

Just kids and jokes, of course. You try to chip in when you can but damn, it's hard to do that when your boyfriend is literally Chris Evans. 

The rest of the evening goes by with the both of you sipping some soda and feeding each other light snacks as some romcom plays on the screen, your form perched between his limbs with you back to his chest, Chris' chin propped on the top of your head and his thick arms cocooned around your body. 

.

Really hope you liked it <3 

[papa-wolf-2006]

🧸🍼

Tips for new Caregivers!❤️

(Coming from a caregiver of 2 years.)

1.) Communicate with your little!

Communication is key in any CG and little relationship! Whether your relationship is strictly platonic, romantic, or you aren't sure yet, communicating can help both of you understand one another and can help you as a CG learn more about your little (their likes, dislikes, boundaries, what petnames/nicknames are okay etc.)

2.) Set rules with your little one!

Something I wish someone had told me in the beginning of my caregiver journey is to set rules with my littles! Setting rules like brushing teeth twice a day or having a bedtime can positivity impact your little by giving them the chance to be healthier and have better sleep. I also noticed that some littles will even feel more small when given rules! So having rules set in place is overall a great way to help your kiddo! :]

(NOTE: Some littles prefer to not have structure, it really just depends on the little. I just find that most littles prefer to have rules as part of their Agere!)

3.) Set up a punishment/reward system with your kiddo!

Having a punishment/reward system for your little can actually be a great way to reinforce rules! Having little rewards like extra candy, a later bedtime, or even more screentime is a great way to encourage your little one to behave and follow the rules. Some punishments I personally have in place for my kiddos include "lines" (writing the same thing over and over again), limited screen time, and no sweets/candy for a week. NEVER USE PHYSICAL PUNISHMENT OR YELLING/SCREAMING. I don't care what you have to say about it, NEVER use violence to punish a kiddo. It is never okay, regardless of what they did. Hurting them can cause them to be reminded of trauma or even throw them into a PTSD flashback. In general, it's never a good idea to harm a kiddo whether it be emotionally or physically.

(NOTE: I will repeat myself, Never physically or emotionally harm your little one. It is never okay!)

4.) Know the difference between being a Caregiver and a babysitter!

Being a caregiver is a big responsibility! Being a babysitter, not so much! Being a caregiver means being there for your little one most of the time, this can look like daily check ins, calling and texting often and generally just being there for your kiddo! Being a babysitter is exactly what it sounds like, you're only watching the little for a small amount of time and aren't dedicated to them the same way a caregiver is!

5.) Learn how to handle breakdowns/panic attacks/anxiety attacks etc.

Learning to deal with breakdowns and such can Greatly help your kiddo feel safe and comfortable around you! Remember, not all regression will be pure. You will most likely at some point deal with impure regression which means your little may experience unstable emotions, anxiety attacks, panic attacks and breakdowns! Learn how to handle these things, and you'll be in the clear to help your little in these times of anxiety and sadness!

6.) Don't rush your little into calling you "special" names like mommy, daddy, etc.

Not all littles will be comfortable with calling you a special name immediately or ever! Some prefer calling you your name plain and simple, and that is perfectly okay! Trying to force/rush your kiddo into calling you something special may result in your little one not feeling safe/comfy around you anymore.

7.) Don't take care of more than you can handle!

As caregivers, it's in our nature to want to take care of as many littles as possible, but that's just not something we can do. It can be overwhelming to take care of more than one little at a time, I know that from experience! So if you know you can't handle it, don't! As tempting as it might be, don't bite off more than you can chew!

8.) Be open minded!

It's important to understand that not all littles will be the same, some may be more independent and others may need extra help! Try to have an open mind and an open heart when caregiving :]

That's all for now, if you find these tips helpful let me know! I hope you have a safe and lovely time caregiving!

[witch-hazels-musings]

Chivalry

warning: princess!reader, knight!character (slight AU* Prince and Princess) | sfw | slight hurt (due to different social statuses, arranged engagements,etc), comfort* (happy ending yayayay) | forbidden love | pre-relationship | character perspective 

citation: *song lyrics - Just for Now, Michael Crean

Knight!Diluc x fm reader | anthology (Albedo, Kaeya, Jean - coming soon)

Diluc

He knew every assignment wouldn’t be enjoyable. As much as he’d prefer to be wandering the plains of Teyvat searching for those who would do his Kingdom harm, it wasn’t possible. Still, out of all the knights, out of all the assignments, why did it have to be this one? 

Diluc sighed and did his best not to roll his eyes as he watched the Princess he was sworn to serve finish her discussion with a foreign dignitary. As the eldest of daughters, she was tasked to handle foreign affairs as well as the kingdoms resources while her younger sister and brother were able to be more free in their day to day. The older brother, the Prince in line for the throne was not well liked which made Diluc assume his sister would be the same. She wasn’t. 

Still, Diluc found most of his time was standing off in the corner while meeting after boring meeting was held in the castle. He’d once climbed the coldest mountain in the land and, honestly, that sounded far more enjoyable than listening to another Fontainian talk down to the person whose patience knew no bottom. 

“I understand you are frustrated by the swiftness of our response,” you said, hand moving to rest against the ambassadors arm. Diluc noted how his face flushed at the contact. “I cannot guarantee we will solve each problem, but rest assured I will not let a day go by without checking in and assessing how we can continue our support.” you bowed slightly and smiled. 

ugh, the tediousness of talking to diplomats, Diluc frowned at it all. 

Once the ambassador left, you wandered back to your seat to gather the notes, forms, and other documents you’d ultimately review until passing out in your room. Dark circles were starting to appear under your eyes from all the sleepless nights. He made his way to you, picking up the stack of books before you could. 

“Is your schedule free?” He asked, twisting slightly away from as you tried to grab the items he picked up. You were stubborn, but so was he. 

“Yes,” you said and sighed, “but not for long. The Favonius knights have requested more arms, and the masons require stone for the eastern wall. I didn’t get to these yesterday, so I’d like to attend to them before dinner.” Settling the items in your arms, you did your best to push the hair that continued to brush against your cheek away with puffs of air. It wasn’t working. 

“Do you not think it is better to rest?” If his superiors were around, they would shame him for speaking so directly. ‘Royalty is to be tended to like a fragile flower, otherwise they will be tarnished,’ he could hear his mentor recite all the while forcing the knights in training to hold 40 lbs barrels over their head. 

You looked into his eyes before moving on to appease him. “You always look after me, Sir Ragnvindr. I’m alright,” you smiled but he could see the exhaustion in your expression. A fragile flower, yeah right. “Anyway, I’m sure you’d much rather be beyond the castle walls.” You reached for the books he was holding, “I know being my guard isn’t very exciting, so please don’t let yourself be trapped for my sake. I can manage to make it back to my room without incident.” 

Your hand touched his on accident. Quickly, you pulled back, apologized, then tried again. With a roll of his eyes, he scooped the items in your arms, adding them to his. 

“S-Sir Ragnvindr!” You protested as he made his way to the door. He was much faster due to his long legs. Diluc couldn’t hide his smirk as he heard you rushing after him. It must have been hard to keep up in a dress as decorated as yours. “Please, it’s too much --” he stopped in front of the door only to feel you bump into him. When he twisted to look, he noticed you cupping your mouth and nose. He swore he saw a dab of color on your cheeks. “Sir, I cannot ask you to --” 

“And yet I can ask you to carry all of this?” He cut you off and watched the implication of his words settle in your mind. Diluc wondered if you disliked the rules and expectations of royalty as much as he did. After all, before he was a knight he was a nobleman - he understood the pressure of this world better than most. 

Deflated, defeated, you backed down. “If you insist.” He could tell you hated being doted on. In every interaction he’d seen between you and an attendant, you were always respectful, helpful, and often insisted upon doing the task yourself. At the end of the day, who could deny the eldest princess her request? Well, other than him --- “But as soon as we get back I can --” 

You were cut off by a voice down the hall. If it was possible for the walls to have ears in this castle. 

Diluc watched as you prepared yourself, stepped into the hallway and greeted the stranger. They were one of the Prince’s scribes, and a rather annoying one to boot. Diluc had a bitter taste in his mouth every time he showed his face. There was just something about the way he looked at you ... 

“I was informed you were free,” he said with his head lifted as if to look down on you. 

“That is the case, but ...” 

“Do come with me then. I have work for you to attend to since it seems you cannot get them done without a watchful eye,” he reached for your wrist and Diluc moved before realizing it. With one step, he was in between the both of you but his cold gaze was seen only by one. The man’s hand retreated so quickly it was like Diluc’s proximity had burned him. 

“The Princess has other priorities at this moment.” 

“How dare --” 

“As the Princess’s guard, I am to ensure she can fulfil her duty to the kingdom.  Do you not think the Ambassador of Fontaine would be surprised to find his request delayed yet again because the Princess was pulled to another task?” Diluc stared the man down, commitment unwavering. He heard you start to say something so he stepped further in front of you. 

“How da- I -- I’ll be speaking to your superior,” the man spat before turning on his heels and loudly walked back the way he came. Diluc didn’t move until he was out of sight. 

“Sir Ragnvindr, you didn’t have to go that far,” you expressed as he turned to face you. Your head had dropped, your eyes looked to the floor while your fingers pinched their neighbors. “I will write a letter to Mrs. Gunnhildr explaining the situation.” 

Diluc wasn’t sure why you were looking after him, he was capable of standing up for himself and dealing with whatever punishment might come his way. Besides, it was bound to be far less painful than watching you spend any amount of time with that man. 

Wait ... what?

“Don’t fret over it. Let’s go,” Diluc quickly passed by you, his head shaking to remove his strange thoughts. He heard you catch up to him. From the corner of his eyes he could see you were still unsettled by what had happened. 

“I um - I do want to thank you.” 

“For?” 

“For standing up for me. I - um - As you know it’s hard for me to say no,” you sent him an appeasing, sad smile. “Though I do feel guilty. Perhaps if I -- ah! Sir--” 

Diluc put his hand against your back and pushed you forward just enough so you couldn’t turn around. “Don’t make me carry you too -” The words fell from his mouth so fast he had to snap his lips closed to not say anymore. 

What in Teyvat was coming over him. You riled him up so much-

You let out a hearty laugh and his heart skipped a beat. “Haha! That would be a sight to see,” you covered your mouth but he wished you wouldn’t. “Sir Ragnvindr carrying the Princess through the halls of the castle. Can you imagine?” 

He could imagine. Though the sight wouldn’t be pretty, nor proper, since the only way he’d see that happening is if he tossed you over his shoulder. Nevertheless, he was glad you were laughing at the idea rather than being appalled. Diluc put his hand back on the items he was carrying now that he knew you weren’t going to rush back down the hall. 

For a moment he listened to the sound of your footsteps, to the soft giggles echoing in the hall. Why was the weight of his armor suddenly so noticeable? 

“You can refer to me by my first name,” Diluc said as your laughter started to fade. 

“Oh, but Sir Ragnvindr is so natural to me.” You tapped your chin before turning to look at him as you walked, “Sir Diluc --” 

“Just Diluc is fine,” 

You paused, unsure of what to say. Eventually, you turned to look down the hall, hands returning to hold onto each other. He wasn’t sure what was going on in your mind but, honestly, he wouldn’t have been prepared even if he did.

“Diluc ...” the sound of his name on your tongue nearly made him fall over. Instinctually, he clenched his jaw over and over again. “Um, actually, if it’s alright with you, I think I’ll stick with Sir. Ragnvindr for now ...” you explained in a panic.

Diluc didn’t dare look at you. What expression would he have it he met your gaze? So, he gave a curt nod and a quick, “Alright,” and the two of you made your way down the hall in silence. 

-- 

Every once in a while you’d try to push him away. Though he wasn’t sure if it was because you needed a moment alone or if his wistful gaze toward the window drew too much attention. Out of the two, he’d much prefer you the latter, especially since his other stare was directed at you.

Weeks went by and he settled into a nice routine. It was difficult when he first arrived, but you asked him on several occasions if there was anything you could do to make his stay more comfortable. Even the smallest things; you did your best to get him what he asked.

Diluc didn’t want for much, so your offers were often left unanswered; however, he did notice a steady supply of grape juice in the kitchen when he was sure there hadn’t been before. He only mentioned it once.

At times he'd forget himself. Forget that he needed to hold an expression of disinterest. Forget to pull himself back when he was starting to soften each time his eyes landed on you, each time you stood close by, each time you turned to search for him.

You found him and he could breathe again. 

He was forgetting how very high the wall was between the two of you and every day he spent in your shadow, it became blurrier and blurrier. 

--

“I’m going to win!” You shouted, hair wiping around your face as you pushed forward. The horse you were riding picked up its pace with a flick of the reigns, pushing you past Diluc. How did he end up racing you again? 

You cackled as you passed by and he couldn’t help but be swept up by the noise. With a deep, “hya!” he squeezed his thighs and tapped his horses belly, urging it to increase its speed. It did, and soon he was rushing past you and laughing at the sound of your fading protests. 

When the path began to taper out, Diluc slowed his horse bit by bit until it was at a standstill. He patted its neck and praised it for its hard work while it raised and lowered its head, breathing heavily. Twisting so he could see behind him, he found you making your way toward him and your voice began to cut through the thicket of trees. 

“---er! --eater!!” You reigned your horse in, coming to a soft canter until stopping beside him. Panting, you repeated yourself, “cheater.” 

“I did no such thing,” 

“You did!” Patting the neck of your horse, you moved up beside him, punching him in the leg when you were close enough. 

“Hey-” 

“Cheater--” You pointed at him, making him laugh. Carefully, he took your hand his his and moved it back toward you. 

“Did you forget I’m also a Calvary Captain?” You scrunched your face in protest but quickly relaxed into realization, “Hah, you did!” 

“Shut up--” Diluc laughed, louder than he had in so long. His hand pressed into his stomach and his eyes began to water. “Stop it --” you pleaded, the notes of laughter laced in your request. “You hardly ever talk about yourself. Sorry for not remembering something you told me almost a year ago.” You turned your head away from him, moved your hands to fix the hair that had fallen free from its holding. He found himself looking a little too long at the back of your neck. 

“I don’t mean poke fun,” there was a stick in your hair but you didn’t seem to notice it. “Here,” with expert skill, he dismounted his horse. In a matter of seconds he had the reigns looped around a low hanging branch and had made his way over to you, his hand resting against the horses neck to let it know he was there. The horse bumped his head and he smiled. “Allow me to help,” he said, offering you his hand. 

“Don’t need it,” you replied, fixing your clothes. You were wearing a pair of form fitting pants and a dark green top that pressing against you underneath a warm, cream vest. It was one of the only times he’d seen you not dolled up in what your maids forced you to wear every morning. He liked it. 

Ignoring his hand, you began to dismount but, as he had expected, it’d been a while since you last rode so you weren’t as graceful as he was. Your hand on the saddle slipped but he was there to catch you. 

“Got you,” he reassured you with an arm wrapped around your back, a hand gripping the waist of your pants before pulling you toward him. Your body collided into his chest. The heat of contact, the wave of your perfume, shampoo, crashed into him causing him to stumble backward. He’d caught whiffs before, hints and hypothesized about what it would be like. He never anticipated becoming overcome by it so intensely.  Diluc held you while your toes scraped the ground, arms coiled around his neck for support. 

Let her go -- he told himself but couldn’t do it. 

“S-Sir Ragnvindr ...” your voice was shaky. He set you down and took several steps back, bowing. 

“Are you alright?” he asked, tone even, professional. 

“Mmhm,” he glanced at you. His jaw clenched at the sight of your discomfort. You wouldn’t make eye contact with him, began to wring your hands like you did when you were uneasy. He wondered if his teeth would break by how hard he bit down. Without saying anything, Diluc grabbed the reigns of your horse and brought it over to his. “Um, that ride made me hungry,” you began so he looked back to you, “those trees provide good shade, if you’d like to eat with me? I brought enough for the both of us.” 

“Alright,” he agreed without protest, grabbing the pack off his horse and brining it to the place you pointed to. You quickly laid out the blanket, taking up space near the tree. He was glad you did, it would be much harder for anything to attack you with it at your back. Diluc offered the basket to you which you took and began to put several items on a plate. Soon, you offered one to him.

“I tried to bring things you’d like,” Diluc looked at the plate. He wasn’t planning on eating anything but when he saw several of his favorite items, he changed his mind. 

“I thought you didn’t remember things about me?” He teased, a rare occurrence.

You pursed your lips into a pout before answering, “I can remember some things.” 

“I see.” He popped one of the finger foods into his mouth. The taste wasn’t exactly the way he imagined but it was still good. “Thank you for requesting these, Princess.” 

“Y-You’re welcome,” you replied, making your own plate. “but - um - I made them. So, if they aren’t very good you don’t have to eat them.” 

Diluc looked at you with awe, “you made these?” you nodded, “when did you find the time?” 

Shrugging, you took a bite of your own food. “I had a spare moment. Though it was hard to keep it a surprise when you’re always around.” You stole a peek at him, “Are they good?” 

Diluc felt his lips curl into a smile as he looked at the food on his plate. Now that he gave them a careful eye, he could see they were done by novice hands, “Very,” he told you and ate another. 

The two of you enjoyed the rest of the picnic in quiet peace. Diluc leaned back against another tree, let his body stretch out on the blanket while you maintained your trained posture. Legs bent to your side, back straight. The wind tussled your hair, making it difficult for you to review the paperwork you brought. Of course you’d still be working, even outside of the confines of the castle.

Soon, a soft hum drifted on the breeze. Peeking through half-closed eyes, he watched you sing to yourself. He’d seen you do it times before but, just as you did then, you stopped. “Sorry,” you appologized. 

It was so comfortable, so relaxed that he couldn’t help but close his eyes. The horses were close by that if they sensed anything he could hear their agitation. The woods had been cleared prior to this excursion anyway, he made sure of that - perhaps that’s when you found the time to make him lunch.

Funny, while he was scouting thinking of you, you were thinking of him. The thought made his chest tight. 

“I don’t mind.” 

“It’s not proper.” 

Who told you that? He wondered. “I’m the only one here.” 

“Somehow that doesn’t help,” you chuckled and he swore your cheeks changed color but maybe that was the light passing through the shifting leaves above, “um, do you have any requests?” 

You’d never asked him before. He wasn’t sure what to say. “Your favorite one then?” 

“Okay.” The world grew quiet. As if it were settling to listen to your song. When you began he lifted his arms, folding them behind his head like a pillow, eyes closing again. 

Take me And I will fix you for the night Hold those breaking lights Dreaming past those eyes

feel me  breathe me to the sky ... 

The song was gentle, sad. He’d never heard it before so he paid careful attention to the words.

So scream Your voice it can't be heard To no one else but you So sing as loud as rain And run until you break

Diluc’s brow furrowed at the sound of your trembling voice, at the motion of your hand as it brushed over your eyes. You tried to keep it in but didn't make it. Your hands covered your face as you cried; cried in the wind, cried under the sunshine sky, cried in front of the man who realized, in this moment, he never wanted to see you this way. 

And yes Just for now Just for these small hours You can fall beneath the ground You can break...

...without the pain

You cried, bent over in the shade of the tree and all Diluc could do was watch and wonder why.

--

A few days later he learned the truth. Your brother had convinced the king to accept a proposal for your hand without consulting you. Somehow this was still endorsed, still expected. You were forced to accept it but Diluc couldn’t. 

He rushed through the halls practically burning the tapestries that lined them. He didn’t even wait to knock on the door to your inner chamber, he just opened it, freezing when he found you sitting on the couch as if this were any other day. 

It wasn’t any other day to him. 

He wanted to fight, wanted to yell, wanted to free you from your station. He swore to protect you, to shield you. So how could he let this happen? Diluc was in turmoil - every inch of him was struggling; strangled by the expectations of his duty and his devoted heart. 

When you heard him enter, you looked up from the paperwork on the coffee table, eyes puffy, swollen - how much had you cried today? 

“I wasn’t expecting you, Sir Ragnvindr,” you explained, but the tightness in your throat told him you were suffering. How terrible was this suitor? What archaic laws shackled you to him and not ... 

Diluc made his way toward you. 

“I’m sorry but I’d like some time a-alone,” your voice cracked. He didn’t listen. With ease, he knelt on one knee before you. His eyes searched your face until your red-tinted eyes landed on him. “P-please,” you tried to smile, tried to pretend but he was okay if you didn't. He rested his arm on his knee and touched your fingers. Biting your lip, you looked at him and shook your head. Your breathing became unsteady, tears pooled in your eyes. “I’m alright,” you lied. With every tear-drop you lied. A quite sob escaped your throat so you covered your face with your hands and said the one thing you shouldn’t have, “Diluc --” 

Diluc, going against everything he was taught, everything he swore to uphold, to commit to, opened himself and took you against him. His arms wrapped delicately around you, his hand found the back of your head, fingers weaving in between the strands of your perfectly brushed hair. 

“I’ll fix it,” he vowed, knowing he couldn’t. 

-- 

The following weeks dragged by. Preparations for your engagement were planned. Even though you were in the room when the decisions were made, you gave no opinion on them. Not the flowers, not the dress, not the food which you had little interest in lately. It seemed all you could do was devote yourself to your work and nothing else. 

Diluc lay awake at night thinking about how to solve this problem. What could he do to break off the engagement. Surely he could take drastic actions - what was a life of imprisonment if you could be free? His step-brother told him to be patient, be rational, but his heart refused to let him. He was spiraling, and jealousy was right in the middle of it all. 

Agitated, he lifted himself from his bed and made his way to the door that led to your chambers. On the other side you were sleeping, safe, untouched by anyone. He pressed his forehead against the harsh wood, gripped the doorknob with so much strength he worried it would bend to his will. He wanted to see you, wanted to hold you - to keep you - but you weren’t his. Would never be his. 

Shaking, he pried himself away, threw on a shirt, and made his way down the hall to cool off. 

On the other side of the door, you sat with your knees to your chest, head resting against the wood with eyes flooded in tears as you silently cried in the color of the rising sun. 

--

The day of your suitor arrival had finally come. You did your best to smile, to hold yourself high. You’d practice these skills for so many years but Diluc could tell you were struggling. As you rose from your chair to greet the man who’d soon be your husband, Diluc took a step closer to you hoping to ease your anxiety.

“Your majesty,” he bowed, low and proper. His smile was unsettling, his eyes darted around the room until they landed on you and the flash of excitement Diluc saw in them made him drive his claymore deeper into the ground. “Ah, and my beautiful fiancé,” he took several steps toward you so you extended your hand as far as it could go to create space. Diluc was enraged at how familiar he was; grabbing your hand and pressing his lips to it. Rubbing your arm without a care. The man flashed his eyes to Diluc but Diluc didn’t turn away. 

“Welcome to the Royal Capital, Prince Calmin Velena. I’m sure you are tired from your journey. Please do take --” 

“I am eager to hear of the wedding plans and celebrations, your majesty,” the man interrupted you, his hand still holding yours as he pulled you toward him and the king. Diluc had to restrain himself from cutting that hand off. “Am I to be boarded next to my sweet Princess? I do wish to spend as much time with her as possible,” he glanced back at you and, instinctually, you tried to retreat toward Diluc. 

“Prince Calmin, do understand that while you are in our kingdom, there are certain, etiquettes, that must be followed. You will have your own room in our guest quarters. They are lavishly furnished as you will find.” The King gestured to an attendant who appeared suddenly before the group. With a scoff, the prince released you allowing you to go back to your original spot. Diluc watched how your hand shook as you hid it behind your back.

You can’t protect her if you kill a prince, he reminded himself. 

“Yes of course, then I will retire for now. Until then,” he turned and blew you a kiss before following the attendant out of the grand hall. At which time you collapsed into your chair. 

“Daughter --” The King rose from his seat, moving toward you but before he could continue, your brother got in the way. 

“Father, don’t mind her, we have much to discuss.” The King looked at you and you shot him a desperate look. A pleading, ‘please’ to which he closed his eyes and followed after your brothers persistent pushing. 

When they left, you tried to stand but found your legs unsteady. Diluc noticed, offering you his hand, never taking it away. 

“I feel unwell,” you whispered while other attendants moved about the room. 

“Let’s away for now,” with ease, he pulled his cape around you, blocking you from the eyes of the would-be onlookers. You tucked yourself under his arm, brushing against his hips every once in a while. 

Would this be all he ever had? Fleeting, accidental touches while that rat had the rest of you. The thought made his chest burn, blood boil.

Diluc looked at you, vowing to ensure nothing but his presence could get close. 

--

Every interaction he saw the two of you have made him furious. Prince Calmin was disrespectful to you. He flirted with others in front of you, talked down to you as if you were nothing, second guessed your decisions and even tried to take over your duties. The amount of times you had to quell the fires of the ambassadors because of his stupidity -- it was giving Diluc a headache. 

Complaints were passed to the King but your brother always managed to stop them. Somewhere in the back of Diluc’s mind he suspected foul-play. Why was this man being pushed so hard when - even if he hated to admit it - there were other, better suitors out there. Just what was your brother playing at? 

Diluc did his best to investigate, asked his most trusted to assist him when he couldn’t. The day’s to your wedding were drawing closer so he didn’t dare leave your side. Not while that snake continued to slither his way into places he wasn’t wanted. 

Several nights before the wedding, Diluc heard your voice on the other side of the shared door. You sounded upset. When he went to investigate, he found Prince Calmin pushing his way inside your room. It took all of his strength not to break every bone in his body but - luckily - the prince backed down, running away as fast as he could, and you were able to quell the rage in him by reassuring him you weren't hurt. 

Even still, Diluc spent the rest of that night in front of your door. 

What nightmares would await him in the next few days. What nightmares would befall you that he couldn’t stop. He needed a solution, fast. 

-- 

The day before the wedding came, and while others were celebrating in high spirits, you did your best to keep your mask up. Even though you smiled and acted pleasant, people were noticing that you didn’t stand in the middle of the room like brides often do, didn’t raise your glass to the toasts wishing you well, didn’t react when your fiancé touched you. 

You were like a statue. A commodity. And your faithful knight was forced to watch. 

“Hey there,” a familiar voice broke his concentration. His brother, Kaeya, had slipped into the festivities without an invitation, as customary. 

Diluc stood with his arms crossed in the dark shadows of the grand hall. Eyes locked on your ‘would be husband’ - searching for the slightest movement that would allow him to end his life.

If he hurt you, would the king pardon the knight sworn to protect the princess? He clenched his jaw. 

“Did you find anything?” Diluc asked, desperate. Kaeya could sense it too and let out a sigh. 

“Just tell her you love her.” 

“Kaeya -” 

“Perhaps a kings heart can be swayed by the profession of true lov-” 

“Did you find anything?” Diluc barked, causing Kaeya to throw his hands up. 

“Alright, here,” Kaeya offered a roll of papers to Diluc who snatched them faster than lightning. “You’re senses are always spot on ya know - well, except for where it counts.” 

Diluc read the papers over and over again. When he was done, he looked at Kaeya.

“I’m good, what can I say?” Kaeya shrugged but Diluc was already gone, “I’ll take my thank you in a bottle of wine. Do you hear me??” Kaeya shouted, throwing his hands in the air when he got no reply.

Diluc’s heart pounded as he pushed through the crowd. Nothing was set in stone yet, this was it. The chance to save the love of his life. 

“My king!” He shouted over the crowd, through the music bouncing around the room. He picked up the pace, running. “King!” 

The royal family and its intruder looked toward him. You sat up in your chair - the first sign of life you’d had all evening. The crown on your head slipped but you didn’t fix it. 

“What is the meaning of this?” Your brother stood, the scraping of his chair putting a stall on the noise in the chamber. “How dare you interrupt us!” 

“I apologize king,” Diluc knelt, bowed his head and lifted himself up again before extending the rolled up parchment toward the King. “I will take whatever punishment you decide fitting for my interruption, but first, read this.” Diluc held out the documents but when the Prince tried to snatch them away, Diluc grabbed his wrist and shoved him back. 

“Sir Ragnvindr!” The King stood and the knights in his charge moved out from the shadows. 

“Wait!” You shouted while your brother tried to scramble for the document. Unfortunately, you had a hard time getting any closer as your fiancé yanked you back toward him. 

The parties’ attention turned to the commotion at the royal table. Diluc held his ground even as the threat of drawn weapons drew closer. “I have entrusted you with the safety of my daughter and yet you slander this celebration?” 

“Her safety is my highest priority which is why you must read this!” The prince grabbed the documents before the King could and Diluc felt his heart drop in his chest. 

“What rubbish. Have I not tried to warn you father, this knight has means to harm my precious sister. He must be dealt with -- away with him!” Diluc refrained from drawing his sword, if he did he would look even more like the enemy. 

“Your majesty, please,” Diluc bowed to hide the fear in his eyes but also show he meant no harm. Please -- please hear him -- Hands touched Diluc’s shoulders and began to pull him back. He could hear your shouts and the quieting demands of your soon to be husband. 

I failed 

“Is this true?” 

“Be still.” The King demanded and the room stilled. Diluc’s head shot up, his heart flipping as the king reached for the parchment. The prince did his best to plead, to explain that it was nothing but when the King didn't back down, he reluctantly handed it over. Diluc’s heart pounded, he felt his hands burn as he looked on only to find you still bound by the hands of that man. 

Read faster, be begged.

“Yes, Majesty,” Diluc confirmed. “Take notice of the seal on the last page.” The King flipped to the last page, grimacing at what he saw. When he snapped his head to Prince Calmin the fear in the man’s eyes was clear. 

“Unhand my daughter. Seize him!” 

“W-What?” the prince stuttered, backing up with you in his grip.

Your brother reached for the king's arm but was shoved off. “Father what are you doing!?” 

“Be silent, child.” The King moved toward Prince Calmin who grabbed a knife hidden in his clothes and held it out, while his other hand held tightly onto your hair.

“Back away! G-Got it?? I-I was promised -- you promised me!” Calmin screamed at the prince who was cowering in his chair. The commotion grew as the kings guard closed in but all Diluc saw was the fear in your eyes, and how your trembling hand extend to him. 

“Let her go,” Diluc reached for the table and tossed it out of the way. The thick wood and metal bindings kept it in place as it slid down the steps narrowly avoiding several patrons as it went. He didn’t care about them, he didn’t care about anyone, he only cared about - “I won’t say it again.” 

Diluc’s claymore appeared in his hand, ablaze. The Prince forcefully moved you in between him and the fire but Diluc knew enough about his vision to control every microscopic flame. 

“Get off her!” In an instant, the room was filled with a flash of light. You covered your face as blue and green flames whipped past you, smacking directly into your captor. He screamed, releasing you, shoving you. As you stumbled forward Diluc caught you so you wouldn't fall. 

“What have you done?! You’ll pa-pay for this ---” Calmin screamed, toppling over in pain as flames clung to his skin. Diluc held you against him so you couldn’t see and hoped the sound of his cries wouldn’t linger in your memory forever. 

The king's guard shackled and carried Calmin away. They hauled off the prince as well, who in a state of bumbling cries revealed he had plotted against the kingdom for riches, and a power greater than visions. As long as he got the princess to marry this 'prince'.  It was through this plot the king learned of an uprising to the east, spurred on the by hands of the northern archon. If they had been successful, the kingdoms resources would have been wiped out.

You slid your arms around Diluc, unwilling to let go and placed his hand on your back. he’d thank Kaeya profusely for saving more than he could ever imagine. 

--

As the party goers were escorted out of the hall, and the energy in the room died down, Diluc stewarded you to the balcony for air.  

“You’re shaking,” he commented, removing his cape and draping it over your shoulders. 

“How could he do this ...” you mumbled, “my own brother.” 

“But, y-you saved me --” 

“Power and corruption are one of many slivers of the darkness that plagues this world. I never wished for you to be exposed to them.” Diluc rubbed your arms, called on his vision to warm you as best as he could. He might have saved you from a sham of a marriage but he failed everywhere else. “I am beside myself for what has happened to you,” he lifted your chin, looked at you but wished he could do more. 

This proposal was one of many you'd get. How was he going to survive the next one?

“Did I?” 

You began to speak but the sound of footsteps interrupted you. Diluc took several steps back and bowed. 

“My daughter, how are you?” 

“I’m alright,” you extended your hand toward the King and he pulled you close. Diluc kept his gaze to the ground. 

“You are unharmed?” 

“Yes,” the King breathed a sigh of relief. He took note of the color wrapped around you, turning his attention to the knight at your side. 

“And you, Sir Ragnvindr?” 

“I am fine, King,” he bowed again, missing the expression you sent to him. 

“Good. Then, if you can spare us a moment I’d like to converse with my daughter in private.” 

“Of course,” Diluc excused himself through the balcony door but made sure to keep you in his line of sight.

--

For several days after, Diluc couldn’t get close to you. He was frustrated, annoyed that his duties kept pulling him away. He rarely fought assignments, but this constant distance was making him insubordinate. 

Finally, he was allowed to return to the castle but no matter where he looked he couldn’t find you. Every room he searched was empty, even your chambers had looked unused for days. The pain in his chest began to burn his throat. 

Where were you - what happened to you - why couldn’t he find you

A figure moved in his peripherals, he spun toward it -- 

“Ah, there you are.” The Kings voice shattered his focus. Within seconds, Diluc was kneeling. “Oh, well. Always do dutiful. Please rise, my boy,” the King chuckled and Diluc did as told. 

“Your majesty. How can I be of service?” 

The King made his way to Diluc who’s head had stayed lowered since the King called on him. There was an uncomfortable silence blanketing the scene, he did his best not to fidget. 

“Diluc Ragnvindr,” hearing his full name, Diluc lifted his eyes but kept his head lowered, “You have sworn to protect my eldest daughter, is that true?” 

“Y-Yes your majesty.” 

“Does that also include her heart?” 

Diluc was hesitant, but he straightened to his full height, coming into direct eye contact with the King. “Sir?” 

“I have watched you care for her, help her, protect her, and though there are suitors who do the same there are none whom she looks at the way she does you.” 

Diluc could hardly breathe. 

“Would you protect my daughters heart the same way you have protected her life?” 

“Yes.” Diluc spoke with conviction. Unsure if what he was vowing too was the one thing his heart yearned for. As stupid he was to believe it, he let himself. 

“Then,” the King took Diluc’s hand in his, one resting on the top and the other cupping the bottom, “You have my blessing. Though I should hardly have the authority to give it.” 

“... I ...” 

“Go. She’s waiting on the balcony.” 

Diluc looked toward the doorway. He swallowed, swore his heart was going to break out of his chest and kill him. He loved you. He wasn’t supposed to - told himself he wouldn’t and yet 

he loved you 

“E-Excuse me,” Diluc bowed, slipped free of the Kings embrace and moved toward the one thing he had wanted but was never allowed. 

There you were, standing with your hands on the marble railing. Your back too him, hair fluttering in the wind. The gown you wore was beautiful. Long trains of white with thick red fabric billowing out behind you. 

Diluc called out your name and, slowly, you turned toward him. He didn’t move, you didn’t move. 

“Did you see the king?” You asked and when he nodded you smiled with tears rolling down your cheeks. Diluc walked toward you as if he were in a dream. “What’s your decision? Could you ever love the princess you swore fealty to--” 

Suddenly, he moved faster than he ever had. His hands cupped your face as he kissed you. He’d never known such a feeling as your lips. Never thought warm tears would feel so invigorating against his hands. 

He had you 

He finally had you 

“Marry me,” he professed above your lips. 

“Tomorrow?” You teased but he didn’t protest. If he were allowed, he’d marry you this instant if it meant you could spend one second more as his wife. 

Laughing, with love rushing through his veins, he hoisted you into the air and let you fall against him as you cupped his face and kissed him in the mid-day sun.

“Wherever you go, whatever you do,” he said in between kisses, “I will follow you. I am yours --” 

“And you are mine,” you vowed. 

@sarahslolitaportfolio​ (these are gonna be long soooo i’m making it a series lol) 

[yearningaces]

What would bring angst to nyx and his s/o's relationship?

Would there be any "bad pre conceived ideas" agasint nyxs s/o from others of his kind?

Also, weird question: Could his species breed with humans and have a viable offspring?? What would that child be like? Would it be more human with some rabbit traits or the opposite?

While I'm the main proponent of no NSFW prompts this is plain scientific curiosity and that I encourage

Talks of reproduction capabilities and results in the most scientific ramble below heads up

If Nyx's partner has a uterus (and if he wasn't either ace due to my preference or just did something out of curiosity) I'd say it's similar to two animals from sister species having offspring. A donkey and a horse can produce a mule but mules can't have offspring together. Due to unmatched chromosomes from the horse and donkey counterparts mostly, so they're infertile.

If a rabbit-hybrid and human had a kid, it would be low chance, and would take on more traits of the more dominant species, a human.

This could work many different ways, but mostly how you phrased it, a rabbit-hybrid that looks more human like than others.

As for your first remarks, absolutely.

Nyx is a prey species, his family is a prey species and they live in a community of burrows where other rabbit-hybrids live. Humans are by nature predators and as such are usually larger, stronger, and far more dangerous. Humans do eat rabbits, I have before when my folks hunted some down and added them to the family gathering menu

Nyx got off on the best foot with his human because they(you) saved his life, proving that humans can be just as helpful as they can harmful. For Nyx, it takes a long time of convincing his family to just meet you, and also to let him leave the burrow again because he promised to meet up with you and they were terrified for his life.

Cause to rabbit-hybrids or prey species hybrids, humans are hunters, carnivores at the top of their food chain by sheer force of will and intelligence, having grown to outrank their own predators. Humans are feared, respected from afar for the good that they can do, but mostly feared. In a way it's almost superstitious like when a human talks about fae

"never accept their food or else you'll be hooked" humans are just damn good cooks. "Never allow them to take you away, you'll return knowing little of your own world and remember unfathomable knowledge." If you let a stray cat come inside it's gonna get socialized to a person through effort. It's gonna forget how to survive on its own bc it's taken good care of by it's human and will learn how to 'converse' with humans and human ways. Am I making sense?

There's also generally separation between humans and most prey like species. Obviously some couple together but it's a more unpopular thing to see and can be a bit difficult.

There's also a power imbalance in the relationship that's always needing to be remembered. Nyx is small and weak compared to his human partner, he can easily be scared by them and while sometimes it's fun, his human has to remember to be calm with him. One big explosion of anger towards him and he'll fall back on instincts and flee and hide. Then it's an emotional mess for everyone because you scared your bunny boy and he wants to feel safe and only feels safest when you hold him but you're the one that scared him and he's lost at that moment.

Challenges but damn the sweet moments make it worth it

[valtsv]

last serious post for tonight i promise but i think part of the reason i value critical thinking so much (even though i realize that might come as a surprise if your only knowledge of me as a person comes from here, because tumblr is more of an escape slash stream of consciousness collaborative scrapbook for me than a platform for spreading awareness or teaching and learning tool - no offence to anyone who does use it for that, i just prefer to treat it as a hobby myself) is because i grew up both extremely isolated and controlled and prevented from expressing myself while also watching my parents fall hard down the conspiracy theory pipeline and experiencing the creeping horror of growing old enough to understand that and learning more about the world and being exposed to more people and ideas in it and realizing that my fear and frustration around them wasn't just typical teen angst but an entirely reasonable reaction to their increasing capacity to be very dangerous and untrustworthy people.

and like. i did actually try to pull them back. i wasn't very good at it (partly because i was a kid, and partly because i have my own biases and misconceptions and just plain bad ideas that i'll spend my entire life working on unlearning and trying to be aware and receptive to criticism of) but goddamn it did i fucking try. i tried discussing, i tried debating, i tried arguing back and standing up for myself and others, i tried researching and learning and presenting my counterarguments backed up with actual evidence, i tried to get other people to support me despite lacking much in terms of social skills or confidence or people around me who didn't buy into all the same bullshit, or something equally stupid and harmful. i even read the things they sent me and showed me so i could say "look, i approached this with an open mind and genuine good faith, i reflected on it and i used my critical thinking skills and tried to understand, but this is wrong and it's going to get people hurt. it's going to get you to hurt people."

i grew up knowing that as the closest person to them who hadn't fallen into the same trap of facebook radicalization groups and increasingly deranged and cult-like (and i don't use that word lightly) organizations and communities online i had a responsibility to try to protect people by warning them that my parents have the potential to cause a lot of harm and suffering if nothing else. and i failed. i'm not a trained deprogramming therapist and they probably crossed whatever event horizon ordinary people who aren't professionally taught how to combat that shit could have any chance of pulling them back from long ago. but the one thing i still have the ability to do is not let the same thing happen to me. i refuse to just passively let everything i see and hear fester in my brain until it starts poisoning all my thoughts and interactions with the world and people around me, and i'm still willing to try to encourage others to be aware and critical of everything around them so they don't end up following the same path and ending up unrecognizable to their former selves. i'm not perfect, i've definitely made some very bad mistakes and hurt people in ways i can't and don't want to be forgiven for and have many regrets, but i will never let myself end up like that as long as i have the ability to fight back.

[oopsallfictives]

I want to tell you a story about one of my headmates. It's about competing needs, and the harm we can do if we assert that one type of accessibility is inherently and always more important than another. It's also a story about typing quirks, and if you can't read a story like that with an open mind, this is your chance to scroll past and leave us be

Terezi is fictive of Terezi Pyrope from Homestuck. Because of that, SH3 TYP3S L1K3 TH1S (plain text: she types like this). Obviously, this isn't compatible with the use of a screenreader. A lot of our Homestuck fictives prefer to use their typing quirks, but will use plain text in settings where there might be people who use screenreaders, or where the use of typing quirks is banned. Not Terezi, though

It's not because they're stubborn, or because they don't understand the importance of screenreaders, it's because it's a genuine need for them. When she tries to type "normally", it causes distress and dissociation, because the words don't feel like she's the one typing them unless she's allowed to type them in her quirk. We've tried to find ways to accommodate them, like I did above by providing a plain text version, but that's not always practical or possible, and she can't write the plain text versions herself. There's a reason she's not the one telling you this story

In a lot of online system spaces, it's become the norm to discourage or outright ban the use of typing quirks because they're incompatible with screenreaders. The idea is that people can just not use their quirks, while people can't opt out of needing a screenreader, but that's not true for everyone. Yes, some typing quirks are incompatible with screenreaders, so when people use them their messages aren't accessible to anyone who relies on a screenreader. And yeah, that's an issue, but the solution can't be that no one gets to use typing quirks. When you ban them, you're still making your space inaccessible, just to a different group of people

When one of the plural discord servers we're in banned the use of typing quirks, we negotiated a method of translating Terezi's messages into plain text that the mods agreed to, but the damage was already done. They stopped coming up to front, stopped talking to people outside the system entirely. They're close friends with three of the people I'm in a relationship with, and yet I haven't seen them in months. If I hadn't asked her permission to write this, who knows when I would've seen her next?

And when I did ask, she burst into tears and asked me to please write it because she can't do it herself. Even if they got to do it entirely in their typing quirk they still couldn't tell their story because they're scared it'll get hate sent our way, and I'll be the one who has to deal with it. She also has a lot of shame about this part of her, because she's been told it's unreasonable and selfish for her to type in her quirk. If you can't understand why that's a problem, imagine being told you're making a space inaccessible just by talking in your natural voice

This is a competing needs issue. There are spaces where people who need screenreaders and people who need to be allowed to use their typing quirks will be coexisting, and that's going to be a tricky thing to handle. But you don't solve a competing needs issue by saying "one of you gets your needs met and the other has to leave". But people don't take typing quirks seriously as a genuine need, they don't see them as an accessibility issue. So when they come up against screenreaders, most people think it's obvious that screenreaders should be prioritized 100% of the time

But when everyone's saying that your needs aren't genuine and you aren't allowed to just do what you need to without worrying about another person's needs (but they're allowed to do that to you), that eats at you. It eats at your self-esteem. The overwhelming message Terezi's gotten is "you're never allowed to put your own needs above the needs of others, and if you do we might punish your entire system for it". No wonder she stopped talking

I don't know if there's a single specific message we want you to take away from this, but if nothing else we'd like to say something to people whose accessibility needs are repeatedly deemed unimportant or less important. You're allowed to put yourself first. You're allowed to say "I can't worry about other people's needs right now, I'm going to do what I need to". You're allowed to be upset when other people treat you like shit for doing that, too. And it's not your fault that you have a need that other people don't take seriously

PL34S3 T4K3 C4R3 OF YOURS3LV3S

(Plain text: please take care of yourselves)

-Oliver (he/him) and Terezi (she/they)

[wangxianficfinder]

In the mood for...

~*~

1. Hello lovely mods! Itmf fics where there is an OC or just another mdzs character with a crush on WWX or lwj. Someone jealous of their significant other or just plain trying to flirt with one of them. But the pairing should be strict wwx/lwj throughout ofcourse. Thank you!

Su She Eats his Heart Out by KizuKatana (T, 16k, wangxian, modern, Guest-starring the belated but incendiary sexual awakening of LWJ, 3rd person pov, SS is hyperfixated on LWJ, LWJ does his best to pretend SS doesn't exist, WWX isn't even pretending he really doesn't notice SS exists, MM exists and is awesome, implied offscreen wangxian sex)

~*~

2. Hello! Thank you for all the work you do in finding and recommending fics!! Presently, I am in the mood for Twin Prides of Yunmeng fics (although specifically ones where Jiang Yanli is still alive, so I suppose I should say Yunmeng Trio to be more accurate) protecting each other and being siblings, or fics that pertain to JC, JY, and WWX trying to protect and support each other from Jiang Fengmian and Yi Ziyuan’s A+ Parenting. Once again thank you so much and I hope you have a wonderful day!!

Lynchpin by ShanaStoryteller (Not Rated, 103k, WangXian, JC & WWX, Time Travel, Fix-It, Lynchpin [PODFIC] by Opalsong, [PODFIC] Lynchpin by Gwogobo)

The worth of a life with no regrets by SnowdropsAndDreams (Not Rated, 21k, WIP, WangXian, Time Travel Fix-It, Canon Divergence, Self-Indulgent, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Twin Prides of Yúnmèng Feels, Twin Prides of Yúnmèng Dynamics, Yúnmèng Siblings Feels, JC & WWX Reconciliation, Post-Canon Fix-It)

~*~

3. good morning and hope you're having a kickass sunday.i was wondering if you bestowe upon this lowly one your magic of "Rec-Finding". A) any type of meaningful apology to Wèi Yīng, after the truth comes out. like something substantial. especially (if not exclusively) w LXC. he victim plamed WWX and im not satisfied w the novel on that part (yay fanfics). I jus don't want to be immediate forgiveness. like i want a time skip that LXC is still being given a cold shoulder. tbc

hi again (rorro im verbose). B) do you have any recs Lan Zhan is more vocal to others, a public scolding of sorts, about Wèi Yīng's sacrifices and plight. but non of out of context self deprivation attitude that does more harm than anyway. ty for your patience. @masticateme

拨云见日 by RoseThorne (G, 1k, WangXian, Justice, Anger, Sect Leader Yáo Bashing, Cultivation Discussion Conferences, Restitution, Self-Indulgent, POV Third Person, POV WWX, Post-Canon) might count

~*~

4. itmf fics where jzx and jyl are alive! I just want things with lots of family feels, like jl getting the support he needs from his parents and wwx and jc having their sis. or maybe fics where jzx actually gets to be the jin sect leader and can make these good changes to the sect. thanks in advance!

~*~

5. could i ask for people's fave wangxian/gen cold read podfics? i adore and appreciate edited podfics obviously, but i was introduced to danmei through a twitch streamer's read-alongs where him stopping and laughing and discussing were a FEATURE ❤️ (also it kinda makes me feel better about having to redo sentences agshdjf) im fine with explicit podfics (but i do prefer canon dynamics if so) many thanks ❤️❤️ oh just to add to the cold read itmf- ive gone through a lot of kisahawklin's lovely work, which occasionally feature one of my fave things (not being able to finish a sentence due to losing it laughing)

[Podfic] Clarity (cold read) by flamingwell (G, 1-1.5 H, wangxian, Canon Divergence, past/present time switches occur throughout the fic, Podfic, Audio Format: MP3, Audio Format: Streaming)

I rec the podficer Dangercupcake! Specifically her podfics of Love, in fire and blood, and Please don't let me be misunderstood! She also does metas and linguistic podcasts/fics that are pretty cool!

podfic of "love, in fire and blood" by cicer by dangercupcake (M, 20h+, WangXian, Audio Format: Streaming, Audio Format: MP3, Canon Divergence, Slow Burn, Arranged Marriage, Politics, trans reader (podfic), cold read (podfic), no editing (podfic))

Podfic of "please don't let me be misunderstood" by sysrae by dangercupcake (Not Rated, 20-30M, WangXian, Modern AU, College/University, Past Child Abuse, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Car Accidents, Audio Format: Streaming, Audio Format: MP3, cold read (podfic))

[Podfic] Cold read of "a light hidden and singing" by occultings (microcomets) by KeriArentikai (E, 5-6h, WangXian, Arranged Marriage, Canon Era, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, brief family abuse, mentions of wangxian's canonical kinks, Misunderstandings, Blood and Injury, Rimming, Outdoor Sex, Blow Jobs, Anal Sex, First Time, Miscommunication, Canon Divergence, Happy Ending, cold read podfic, unedited podfic, Getting Together) I haven't listened yet but enjoyed the fic

~*~

6. Hiii I'm itmf a fic where wwx is reincarnated as a female plz

The Housewife's Guide to Causing Chaos by dvasva (M, 123k, wangxian, QS & WWX, NHS & WWX, WWX & LSZ & LWJ, canon divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Functionally Trans Character, Mild Sexual Content, Domestic Fluff, Love Confessions, Transphobia, Good Parents LWJ & WWX, Pining, WWX is a Tease, Grief/Mourning, Body Dysphoria, Fake Marriage, Canonical Character Death, Misunderstandings, Doting LWJ, Arranged Marriage, lying to your family about your demonic boyfriend taking over your wifes body for fun and pleasure, WWX is not in Mo Xuanyu's body, Misgendering, Mild Angst, Assumptions, Comedic Elements, non-sexual nudity, Blood, Discussion of Various Bodily Functions, Cloud Recesses Shenanigans, 4 years of mourning instead of 13, The Juniors start a conspiracy board, POV Multiple, Corporal Punishment, Trans WWX, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, pregnancy mention, Warning: JGS, Sexual Harassment, Threats, WIP)

patching the road with vague intentions by loosingletters (T, 18k, WIP, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Humor, Developing Friendships, WWX Resurrected By Others, Trans WWX, Case Fic, POV WWX, POV LQR, Family, Good Uncle LQR, Hurt/Comfort, Golden Core Reveal, Slow Burn, Canon-Typical Violence, MXY Lives)

Plans fly out the window by English is my death (Lena013) (T, <1k, JGY/QS, JGY/WWX, LWJ & WWX, JC & WWX, reincarnation, canon divergence, QS does the ritual, YLLZ WWX, impersonation)

To Deserve So Much More by renysen (T, 19k, wangxian, getting together, one big happy family, no angst, getting engaged, family feels, female bodied WWX)

So You Want to Start a War by JaenysBloodcourt (T, 41k, WIP, MY/QS, MY/WWX, WangXian, Reincarnation, Half-Sibling Incest Mention!, QS does the ritual instead of MXY, WWX as a woman, MY Is His Own Warning, Canon Divergence, Impersonation, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Please check the notes before reading a chapter, Timeline What Timeline, WWX Has PTSD)

❤️ Beauty and the Boot by PTchan (T, 44k, wangxian, summoned by f!oc, Canon Divergence, Romantic Comedy, Genderbending, Denial, Fem!WWX, WangXian kids, Crack-ish, WIP)

Femme Fatale by coffeepie (E, 59k, WIP, WWX/WC, WWX/WZ, WWX/WRH, WWX/JGS, Porn, Smut, Possession, Crack Treated Seriously, Humor, Time Travel Fix-It, Penis In Vagina Sex, Anal Sex, Masturbation, Aphrodisiacs, Rough Sex, Minor WangXian, Canon Divergence, Oral Sex, Pre-Sunshot Campaign, Strangulation, Object Insertion, Exhibitionism, Voyeurism, Blood and Injury)

No Matter What You Are by LilyFaraday (M, 77k, WIP, WangXian, Female WWX, Genderbending, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, Marriage of Convenience)

In Sickness and In Health (And In Strange and Unexpected Times Too) by purplemonster (E, 28k, WangXian, Fem! WWX, Mpreg, well technically not mpreg since he's a woman, Fluff and Smut)

~*~

7. Hi for the next in the mood for are there any good dark Wei Wuxian fics?? I always see dark LWJ but dark WWX seems so cool too @iyo-luv

~*~

8. Hello. I hope y’all are well. Thank you for what you do. 💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜 i was wonderinf if you can recommend fics where The Untamed Wei Ying and Lan Zhan meet MDZS Lan Zhan and Wei Ying. Please and thank you.

~*~

9. Hello ! Do you know any fics where the swords manifest as real people?

Intervention of Spirits by Vrishchika (T, 4k, WangXian, Pre-Relationship, Canon Divergence, Golden Core Reveal, WWX Has a New Golden Core)

~*~

10. Hi I'm itmf angst, can you please recommend fics where wwx just breaks / snaps and people are there to see it/ react to it ? ( could be characters watching memories , and it has that scene) thxx

Enough! by Jeeny271196 (Not Rated, 12k, WangXian, Gūsū Lán Sect Bashing, Jiāng Family Bashing, JC Bashing, LXC Bashing, BAMF WWX, Cultivation Sect Politics)

~*~

11. Hi, I have been reading this completely amazing fics that are inspired by The Great British Bake Off, like "on your marks, get set, bake!" by BlackWiresOnHerHead and "don't threaten me with a good time" by livinginaworldofnoise, they are so fun and entertaining!! I wonder if there are more stories that deal with baking and cooking competitions. I have read the ones in the Reality TV compilation so anything else will be totally welcomed!! Thank you!! Be well!! :) @monicaop21

The Great Chinese Cook-Off by aubreyli, cafecliche, etymologyplayground, mme_anxious (G, 20k, WIP, WangXian, Modern AU, The Great British Bake Off Fusion, sort of; it's more of a cooking show, because most Chinese people use their ovens for pot/pan storage, Collaboration, Screenplay/Script Format, Humor, Baking, Cooking, Stress)

~*~

12. ITMF Wei Wuxian best uncle to Jin Ling? Anything we get to see their relationship. It can be of any kind but it'd be nice to give it extra attention if JL doesn't agree with JC's treatment towards WWX! But anything goes really. You're doing amazing work, thank you!

hills and rivers by LtLJ (T, 56k, wangxian, Post-Canon, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Domestic Fluff, Family Feels, Canon-Typical Violence, the family that hunts demons together stays together, and doesn't murder each other, Case Fic, BAMF WWX, Mojo's post)

Rotten Work by ShanaStoryteller (Not Rated, 63k, WangXian, WWX & JL, Post-Canon, Protective WWX, Protective JL, Yunmeng Bros Reconciliation, Reluctant Matchmaker JL)

component parts by perfectlyrose (G, 1k, JL & WWX, minor wangxian, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Comfort/Angst, Really it's angst but make it healing, Minor JYL/JZX, Family, Family Bonding, Family Feels, A couple of orphans figuring out family, and the legacy of parents)

~*~

13. Hi, For the next itmf -any good fics where everything as in classic timeframe, Sects exist, pining exists, cultivation ethics problems exist, but no Jiangs in the picture. At all

Thank you! @best-before-end

~*~

14. ITMF: A) serenity. I want fics that give serene atmosphere or feelings. Like

(ID: gif of waves gently moving on a beach)

B) fics which have beach in canon era. Or wx / wwx traveling to Ocean/beach place @whateverweilanlovechild

14A)

Of Winter Coats and Snowball Fights by Iggysassou (T, 2k, WangXian, Mentioned WN, Post-Canon, Married Couple, Fluff)

it's your soul by syriala (G, 3k, WangXian, Misunderstandings, Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Getting Together, Fluff)

suddenly knowing you’re home by RavenclawLoki (T, 1k, WangXian, Fluff, head empty, no thoughts, only wangxian being married, Sleepy Cuddles, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, No Plot/Plotless, Post-Canon, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts)

14B)

Linger by the Door (I've Always Been Yours) by piecrust (T, 78k, wangxian, canon compliant, slow burn)

Judge Softly by Chrononautical (E, 32k, wangxian, LSZ & WWX, LXC & LWJ, LQR & LXC, LQR & WWX, Various OCs, Accidental Voyeurism, Masturbation, Non-Consensual Mind Reading, Oblivious WWX, WWX Has Self-Worth Issues, BAMF Wwx, Genius WWX, sex makes WWX stupid, LQR Tries, It may be more accurate to say LQR learns to try, Suffering LQR, Post-Canon Fix-It, Ghosts, Angst with a Happy Ending, Gūsū Lán Forehead Ribbon, Teacher LQR, Mutual Pining, Longing, Playful Sex, Use Your Words, Canon-Typical Violence, Switching, Virgin WWX, Love Confessions)

~*~

15. For ITMF, are there any fics where LSZ's time in the Burial Mounds had some effect on him, whether he remembers his time there or not? Whether it's supernatural abilities (like in LSZ Sees Dead People), or being good at 'inventing' things (cause he saw them on WWX's worktable), or random healing knowledge from overhearing WQ lecturing WWX, even if he no longer remembers where he picked up any of that stuff. @thispatternismine

~*~

16. Thank you for all your work!

Itmf fics which actively calls into question Lan Qiren's bias and lax adherence to the lan rules. I want a confrontation or am active argument not just a character thinking about it or speaking about it to someone else. Basically, Lan Qiren gets called out fic. Extra kudos if it's during the cloud recess study arc. Love

Going on charmingly by scribbet (T, 21k, WangXian, Teenage LWJ, Cloud Recesses Shenanigans, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, WWX is BSSR's Disciple, Genius WWX, Petty LWJ, Meddling LXC, Canon Divergence, JFM Doesn't Adopt WWX, Technically pre-relationship, POV LWJ)

Admonishment by bookwyrmling (T, 6k, LQR & WWX, Canon Divergence, Fix-It of Sorts, Teacher LQR, Student WWX, POV LQR, Mixed Canon, Gūsū Lán Sect Positive, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, Golden Core Reveal)

~*~

17. Hey, thanks for your work as always! I'm sure it has been done before but I couldn't find it and ITMF political intrigue fics! Extra points for fake relationships, scheming bastard coalitions, crossdressing your way to love and happiness or any of those things ☺️.

~*~

If you didn’t get an answer to your ask here, don’t forget to make use of @mdzs-kinkmeme and MDZS KINK MEME on Dreamwidth. Authors actually do use them for ideas. You may get what you order!***Your prompt doesn’t have to be kink! Fluff, crack, whatever - it’s all good!***

[rockwgooglyeyes]

Dante!! Actually known better as "Sirius' Shadow" (@junebluues)

he/any

unlabelled (but definitely queer)

his ID is made up of all prime numbers (29, 13, and 41)

his name is a reference to Dante Alleghieri but specifically Dante's Inferno

trained as an assassin by previous owner but put into ANAKT by current owner to try and better socialize him

basically he's my attempt to make someone who could match Sirius' freak

He's not a very complicated person. He keeps to himself, he is very soft-spoken and speaks in few words, he's simplistic in his pleasures and comforts. He enjoys sleeping, he prefers plain food, and he's pretty apathetic overall.

That is, except when it comes to Sirius. Sirius is precious. He needs to be kept safe. Dante wants to help Sirius in any way he can, but his skills are limited, meaning that he mostly helps Sirius out by taking care of people who are a threat to them, keeping an eye on them, protecting them from any possible harm, and doing their dirty work for them.

Obsessed with Sirius to a stalker-degree but focused on protecting them/keeping them safe rather than getting their attention/affection

Largely speaking, if you don't make yourself a problem, you probably won't even meet Dante. He'll see you, he'll know who you are, but he is a shadowy figure slipping through the darkness. He isn't meant to be seen. If you never meet Dante, that's a good thing.

Inspo Chart

Left side (top to bottom)

Luka (ALNST) (the obsession, the lack of care when it comes to other people getting hurt, caring mostly just about one person)

Mai (Avatar the Last Airbender) (cutthroat, brutal, willing to manipulate, but has been through a lot, never wanted any of this)

Moze (HSR) (hair color, assassin/bodyguard, haunted by the past but doesn't talk about it too much, doesn't talk much, its the vibes)

Right side (top to bottom)

Krolia (Voltron Legendary Defender) (assassin/skilled combatant, purple, hairstyle- i almost gave Dante a rattail)

Lumine (LUMINE) (eye color/partial heterochromia, incredibly loyal)

Zelkov (Fire Emblem Engage) (assassin, bodyguard/right hand man to someone, has the capacity for kindness but at the same time is incredibly cutthroat)

[tsel-bas]

Pretty Little Things: A Pokémon Subsystem

Warning. Headmates may not turn out exactly as described. Anything and everything can be changed to fit your system.

Name(s): Lopunny, Scarlette, Keisha

Pronouns: She|Her, They|Them, Zey|Zem

Gender Identity: Female, Rixagender, Loveballgender

Sexual/Romantic Orientation: Orientationless

Preferred Terms: Feminine, Neutral

Age: 19

Role: Dear, Sub-Host

Type: Willogenic

Source: Pokémon Generation IV (4), @/stel-bas

Description: A bipedal rabbit Pokémon with Normal and Fighting types. In this form, she is a bit more aggressive than her plain Normal type counterpart. Despite the newfound aggression, they are actually very kind and loving. Always up to comforting others and protecting them.

Zey enjoy hopping around in meadows, gardens, and other serene places. She is extremely strong and one kick of her legs or one whip of her ear can be super destructive.

Faceclaims:

Name(s): Slurpuff, Cotton, Missy

Pronouns: They|Them, Shy|Hyr, Hy|Hym

Gender Identity: Nonbinary Woman, Ulosagender, Fairytypic

Sexual/Romantic Orientation: Lesbian

Preferred Terms: Feminine, Neutral, Occasionally Masculine

Age: 15

Role: Pacific

Type: Willogenic

Source: Pokemon Generation VI, @/stel-bas

Description: A sweet, lovable little cotton candy shaped friend! This adorable furball is very soft to the touch due to the air in their fur. Shy has a sense of smell one hundred times stronger than that of a human. Because of this, hy can sense the physical and|or mental state of someone just by their scent. Slurpuff's goal is to help others. If someone is struggling, they will smell that and begin a goal to help that person feel better. Hyr role as a Pacific goes hand in hand with hys lightness and softness. They allow others to pet them and sink their hands into their cottoncandy-like fur in order to provide some form of comfort.

Faceclaims:

Name(s): Ninetails, Lauren, Kayden

Pronouns: Shy|Hyr, Hy|Hym, Zy|Zyr

Gender Identity: Bigender, Clacgender, Antarcticgender

Sexual/Romantic Orientation: Lesboy

Preferred Terms: Feminine, Masculine

Age: 220

Role: Succorer, Sub-Co-Host

Type: Willogenic

Source: Pokemon Generation VII, @/stel-bas

Description:

A gorgeous, ice type, nine tailed fox who resides in colder areas when fronting. Due to it's habitat in source, it is revered as a divine messenger. Shy provides comfort to those when needed and protects them from any harm that comes their way. Hy aids lost people in distress to keep zyr pack safe from harm but also genuinely wants to help people. This headmate can live for a very long time due to the energy stored in each of hyr tails. However, being inside a system has made hym somewhat immortal and unable to age any higher.

Faceclaims:

Name(s): Hatterene, Samantha, Avery

Pronouns: She|Her, Flor|Flora, Bloss|Blossom

Gender Identity: Nonbinary Woman, Florengender, Pastelblossic

Sexual/Romantic Orientation: Asexual Lesbian

Preferred Terms: Feminine with a hint of Neutral

Age: 30

Role: Destressor

Type: Willogenic

Source: Pokemon Generation VIII, @/stel-bas

Description: A tall fairy type figure who is usually docile and reclusive, choosing to stay by herself most of the time. However, when provoked, will use Flors psychic powers to gain an advantage. Sometimes using it to make Blossoms headmates feel better, having them believe that everything is alright while she works to actually make things okay. Flor has others partake in destressing activities to help them calm down or cope with things.

Faceclaims:

Links to Genders Included:

https://lgbtqia.wiki/wiki/Rixagender

https://www.reddit.com/r/XenogendersAndMore/comments/y4a971/loveballgender_a_xenogender_connected_to_the_love/

https://the-mogai-community.fandom.com/wiki/Exemgender(Pok%C3%A9mon)_Gender_System#Ulosagender

https://maidish.tumblr.com/post/696842267037696000/%F0%93%8F%A7-fairytypic

https://the-mogai-community.fandom.com/wiki/Exemgender(Pok%C3%A9mon)_Gender_System#Glacgender

https://www.reddit.com/r/XenogendersAndMore/comments/u15usg/heres_a_xenogender_i_made_antarcticgender_a/

https://www.pinterest.com/pin/1008947122742248637/

https://www.tumblr.com/genderyboy/684989380385964032/%E0%AD%A8-pastelblossic-%E0%AD%A7

Links to Roles Included By Appearance"

https://pluralpedia.org/w/Dear

https://pluralpedia.org/w/Pacific

https://pluralpedia.org/w/Succorer

https://pluralpedia.org/w/Destressor

[astrum-aetherium]

what do you think the greek class would think of vapes?

amusingly, i’ve already discussed this topic at astounding length with my friends, lol. something about embedding that pretentious, out-of-touch, aesthetically focused group into a modern framework is just so incredibly comical. let’s break it down.

i mean, all of them are already heavily addicted to all those other things that harm your body: cigarettes, alcohol, excessive medication… you name it. i think we’re all fooling ourselves in thinking that they would be opposed to vaping because it’s a generally new, modern concept, and doesn’t exactly fit into the aesthetic category of dark academia. they could be against indulging in them, of course, but then again, it’s nicotine. in a dire moment, none of them would say no (saying this as a smoker who would never decline a vape at a dire time). except maybe henry (for obvious reasons) or bunny who would be convinced the government was putting something in those things to establish mind control, or something.

charles would be the main consumer of them all. he would have a vape or two on him at all times, all disposables because he doesn’t give a fuck. flavor-wise, he’s a watermelon or green apple kind of guy. but he’ll take anything. if you smell that sickly sweet chemical vapor, you just know the vape is coming from his nose or mouth. he’d be addicted, for sure. i’m talking throwing tantrums when his last one runs dry or he can’t find it in his pocket kind of addicted. a literal child with a pacifier.

let’s face it, and i’m just going to say it: richard would want to consume, but he wouldn’t have the money for it. therefore i think he’d just sneak singular ones of charles’ into his pockets when he isn’t looking. stealing whatever he can get his hands on and then hiding it in his sleeve like a teenager to take a hit so charles wouldn’t notice. or: charles would feel charitable and just give him one of his out of the kindness of his heart (given that there is a corner store selling them nearby so he can stock back up).

camilla is a strawberry/raspberry/grape flavor type of girl. however, i do see her with a watermelon vape as well, probably one charles got her because he thought she would like the same thing he does. she wouldn’t be as heavily addicted; she would still prefer cigarettes (henry’s influence). still, she would be hitting 100%. i mean, her brother would be the main consumer of the group. she’d have a vape of her own on her at all times.

aesthetically, i wanna say francis wouldn’t indulge, but then again, who are we kidding. he defended cigarettes saying they’re good for you and doctors are just gaslighting us about their harm. he would definitely vape. oh, and how he would love the sweet, fruity taste. however, he’d get tired of it fast, so i definitely see him always having two polar opposite vapes on him, large (like one of those walkie-talkie-looking ones) and refillable: one of them almost strangely sweet, like bubblegum or cotton candy, and then a plain, nicotine-flavored one. like an upper and a downer. it’d be a constant mix.

i can see henry yielding to the convenience of vapes despite all aesthetic objections. of course, he’d still predominantly smoke, but he would have his trusted little vape concealed in the pocket of his coat or in his bag for emergencies. he would definitely be the type of person with a refillable, plain-flavored one, though. the one you take a hit of out of curiosity and immediately regret it because it tastes like sewer water and burns your throat. and then he has the audacity to say he enjoys it. everyone would roll their eyes at him because the fruity, sweet taste is part of the experience — an experience he obviously wouldn’t want!

as i said, bunny would be opposed to vapes for political reasons. his parents or brothers will have told him some bullshit propaganda lie about vapes and he’d think they make you grow a new limb or funnel surveillance chips into your brain or something. he would 110% be the type of guy to yell about how bad they are, only to tearfully beg for a hit when he’s drunk and then mysteriously “lose” it when you ask for it back and then proceed to empty that shit out on the same night. the full cartridge. definitely the hypocritical kind of consumer. annoying as hell and always preaching when he’s very much indulging behind closed doors.

bonus addition: judy would vape like it’s nobody’s business. her dorm room would constantly be enshrouded in vapor. one hit after the other, no-longer-can-walk-up-the-stairs-without-heaving sort of addiction. she would definitely have a refillable one, cherry-flavored mainly but also a venturer into blueberry ice. she’d yell at you for using disposables, saying how bad it is for the environment, too. giving you shop recommendations where you could get refillables. a very conscious girl.

[ronearoundblindly]

Hi Ro! I have this idea eating a hole in my brain since it manifested. I feel like we see a lot of mafia! Steve and Bucky where the reader is one of their gf and the other is her bodyguard or something else of the sort (which I love) BUT…

Could you imagine a badass bodyguard reader? Like, she works to protect one of them and they don’t even sexualize her, but after seeing how well they work together and how dedicated and hard-working she is, they just hopelessly fall in love? Which launches mutual pining, but also both of them thinking it’s unrequited and her still just girlbossing away. Until some inciting inciting incident (TBD) which makes them super close to realize how they feel and then both of them needing a new bodyguard because now she’s the gf of a mafia boss.

I’d try and write it but I don’t have anywhere near as much talent as you and wouldn’t do it justice. Also, sorry if this adds to your 92747739 other WIPs

Alright. Full disclosure: I am not even remotely a fan of the mafia!fic, or mob!fic, or really any of the tropes that take a fundamental piece of a character out of the equation. To me, doing the right thing and using personal harm as a last resort are inextricable from Steve's personality--and is what we love about him.

[To be clear, I am not throwing shade on y'alls writing or reading preferences! Just telling you my take on it. You do you 😘]

His character lends itself to being a CEO, like in the It Had To Be You series, a military commander, or even president.

In that regard, I wonder if it would fall into the same vein of story to have Steve be running for some sort of 'office' but in a kind of dystopian country as the non-corrupt candidate who is in danger due to political/military pressures between opponents?

Say...maybe John Walker could be the smooth-talking but selfish alt runner? Bucky and Steve and Walker used to serve in the armed forces under an equally corrupt dictator figure...say, Ross, perhaps? Then Steve broke away--like the Nomad persona--until he emerged to run against Walker with a faction of the military's support.

So you're hired as part of Bucky's security team first, but since Bucky is with Steve so much, you're very recognizable to Steve. There could be a minor attack at a public event where you throw yourself in front of Bucky (who threw himself in front of Steve), and the real surprise to them is that you want to return without hesitation once recovered.

After a completely professional, stone-faced few months, Steve wins the election.

The night's celebrations go on till the wee hours; you keep a keen eye on your charges even though it's the first time either has seen you in a formal gown instead of a plain suit. When the results are actually announced on the TV, Steve is struck by seeing you smile and get emotional for the first time. It warms his heart to see you proud of him. It's a relief to know you don't just stick around as an employee. You actually believe in him and what he's doing.

fucking swoon

I'm not sure whether I'd write this as Stucky x reader or Steve with reader and Bucky as a friend, honestly, but I feel like after Steve (and maybe Bucky) turn in at their hotel room after all that partying, you're the guard at the door.

Steve debates inviting you inside because he's so curious to know more about you personally.

He opens the door, but you're not there. Sam Wilson is. He took over the shift so you could get out of your heels.

Steve makes up some shitty excuse to need your room number, fusses over going to talk to you alone, maybe says Bucky will come with him as protection instead (since at very least Buck is sus of Steve's interest).

You answer the door sans jewelry and shoes but with the dress still on. He can come in if he helps with the zipper and buttons down the back. For such big hands, his fingers are nimble as they work the delicate fastenings.

ope, swooned again

And then...ya know...this is all very tempting since the night has been charged with adrenaline and hope, so...yeah...

Steve goes in for a kiss and more.

🥴

Idk. Probably. Something like that. Is that close enough to mob/mafia? Not my wheelhouse so this is likely the best I can do...

Can y'all help me? You want stucky or just stevie?? Promise that the politics is more of a background thing, but it's the only scenario I could work with in their canon dynamic/personalities.

[lorwolfofficial]

Spring tidings, Lorfolk! Spring arrives, and the swamp blossoms to life in Loria. There’s much to unpack here in this Dev Update, so let’s dive in together.

What's new?

New Direwolf Breed

Murkwood Seasonal Event

New Content

Breed Showcase - Direwolf

Description: The Direwolf breed is a relic of the past. Once hailed as Luana’s Warriors, modern Direwolves have now spread out further than just their native home of Murkwood. They are a large breed with dense wiry fur more akin to a Colpach’s pelt than other Loria breeds. They typically weigh between 95 to 140 pounds and stand 36 to 44 inches tall at the shoulder. They have a noticeably short tail, a large maw with equally huge teeth, and a powerful, heavy set of shoulders, which allows them to throw their entire weight on their foes, crushing them with both tooth and body. Their bite sports an array of deadly bacteria, making even just a graze enough to cause serious harm.

Behavior: Direwolves prefer to hunt alone, stalking their prey before rushing them in one fell swoop. Whilst they can be aloof, they have a soft spot for those who prove themselves in battle. With their focused and loyal personality, they make an impressive sparring partner. They have become accustomed to teaching other Lorwolves their ways and skills in modern times rather than remaining totally outcast from others.

Direwolves have long since stopped being Luana’s Warriors, but when push comes to shove, Direwolves can call upon their roots and go into a battle frenzy. Power will course through them, buffing their already powerful abilities beyond their limits. After calling upon this power, a Direwolf will need to rest for several days. Direwolves can often be found sunning themselves on hot rocks or by fires after a particularly rough fight.

Check out our Direwolf Launch Raffle to enter the draw for a chance to win a Direwolf Breed Change.

Spring, swamp and skirmishes are the very essence of Murkwood. A red hue has overtaken Loria. With that, the Murkwood Seasonal Event has begun! New apparel, new companions, Murkwood’s Consumed and new forum decor. Check out the lore page of Murkwood’s encounter with The Consumed here and the entire event post here.

Leopard and Plain Patterns

As requested by Lorfolk feedback, the Plain pattern has arrived to let your wolves' natural bases shine. Create more unique combinations to get your wolves precisely the way you want them. You can purchase these patterns at the Mole Market for 20k pebbles.

Quillaras, Apparel, and Totem of Whelping

They're dainty-looking, yet they have a glare meaner than an angry Nytha. Don’t fall too much for their cuteness; they’ll happily take a bite if you rub them the wrong way. These grumpy little fluffballs are available in the Mole Market for 100ms.

Totem of Whelping

Lorfolk can now purchase a Totem of Whelping speciality item from the Mole Market, which bypasses the pregnancy cooldown and triggers birth immediately. The Totem of Whelping can be used via a player's inventory; simply select the item and click "Use." Players will then select the expecting wolf they wish to give birth, which will then immediately send the wolf to the Nest. From the nest, you can then click “Give Birth.”

New Apparel

Are teeth and claws not enough to show how fearsome you are? Get tough with the brand-new Spiked Collar apparel. Spiked Collars recipes are available in the Mole Market to purchase.

[roachliquid]

Part of the problem surrounding this whole situation (predstrogen, the subsequent callouts about the Cohost founders) is that a lot of people don't make the distinction between "actual report of a person's abusive actions" and "sourceless claims of an intent to abuse based on little to no relevant evidence".

Don't get me wrong, accusations of sexual abuse toward trans women (and many other marginalized people) always deserve at least a little bit of scrutiny. You don't have to suspend your compassion or accuse someone of being a liar, but taking someone at face value isn't the same as taking them in good faith. Just don't ignore that they could be lying, pay attention to major warning signs to that effect, and don't rush into taking actions that could bring immediate or drastic harm to the alleged abuser.

But even with that in mind, a lot of the accusations I've seen people circulate don't even come CLOSE to firsthand victim reports. Instead, we have people being labeled as various types of predator for behaviors that include: being trans women, doing sex work, having squicky/uncomfortable kinks, being furries, being willing to engage in complex and potentially difficult conversations regarding taboo topics, and worst of all, more than one of these at the same time.

Here is the logic beside presenting these things as "proof": "This person doesn't exhibit the level of disgust or avoidance that I expect around sexual taboos, or does not fully understand the reason why some of them exist. If someone does not automatically and unconditionally accept and enforce a taboo, it must be because they want to engage in taboo actions, including ones that might cause harm. Therefore, this person is dangerous and a predator."

And yes, while I only brought them up directly in the entry about discussions, every single thing I listed is a sexual taboo. Even when, as is the case with kinks, furries, and being a trans woman, they may have little or nothing to do with actual sex. By and large, this is because whenever a person exhibits ANY unexplained desires or behaviors, the default assumption is that they must be "a sex thing". Which is just another way of saying "my tastes represent the human default, yours are irrational, superfluous, and yucky."

And that's how it works. "That thing you're doing is strange > that thing you're doing is sexual > you're obsessed with sexually deviant behaviors > you are a sexual predator."

Trans women get a double dose of this, because they're not just transgender, they are also women - who are viewed as inherently sexual for plain ol' misogyny reasons. But while women of relative* privilege exist in a rotating superposition of being innocent recipients with no sexual agency, and devious seductresses out to ruin men's lives, trans women (and many nonwhite cis women) are permanently trapped in the role of seductress, because their very womanhood is taboo.

The reason I'm taking the time to bring all of this up because any one of these beliefs is enough to secure your participation in this system. For example, you might not believe consciously that being a trans woman makes someone a predator, but if she violates some other taboo, even in a completely innocent manner, you end up sliding right on down the chain to "clearly this trans woman is, though". Plus, you probably unconsciously associate trans women with predation, and while you know consciously that's a transmisogynist belief, the recognition of "evidence" still taps into that hidden bias to make the conclusion feel more solid and reasonable than it actually is.

And so all of this needs to be challenged. Challenge your assumption that "freak" is the same as "threat", that your beliefs and preferences are universal and require deliberate and malicious intent to divert from. Pay careful attention to what kind of evidence you're being shown. Keep a wary eye out for emotionally-loaded language designed to influence how you read a situation - e.g. describing some behavior as "disgusting" or "pedophilic" before you've even had the chance to see what the person did. Be careful and patient with the information you've been sent, and above all, remember that peer-to-peer rumormongering is not equal to an actual victim's testimony. It should always be taken with an immediate grain of salt, and examined carefully before you recirculate it or take other action.

*Within the scope of "being women, and therefore obviously affected by misogyny".