taq

"Alright," Vi says with a chuckle, "I think we've had enough for the evening."

That Caitlyn lets her pry the glass away without much complaint is proof in and of itself of a state of at least mild inebriation. Caitlyn does also pout though, an expression rare enough that Vi finds herself temporarily disarmed by the sight, her heart doing a teeny little backflip of its own.

"I'm not drunk," Caitlyn says. "And even if I were drunk, which I will once again say that I most certainly am not, would that be so bad considering we're in the comfort of our own home? Where no one will bother me?"

"No." Vi takes Caitlyn's wandering hands in her own to keep them from reaching for the crystal. It also lets her run her thumbs against the soft of Caitlyn's palms, far warmer to the touch than they usually are.

"Then?"

"It might not be bad," Vi says, "but you are very red right now. You could give my hair a run for its money."

The pout deepens. "I am not."

Vi chuckles and presses the back of one of her hands to Caitlyn's cheeks in lieu of a reply. There isn't a sizzling sound but honestly, she wouldn't have been that surprised to hear one.

"That's lovely," Caitlyn says with a sigh, already turning her head to nuzzle further against the touch. "Why are your hands so cold?"

"They're not. You're warm." Vi cups her cheek gently. "See?"

Caitlyn hums, eyes already beginning to flutter shut. "You may have a point."

"I may have a point?"

One of Caitlyn's hands swats half-heartedly at her arm. "Oh, shut up, smarty pants." She sighs. "It's genetic. S'not my fault."

"I know, love."

Another quiet hum. Vi gives the cheeks in her hands a slight squeeze and gets rewarded with a soft snort for her efforts.

we all know it's fiction or consensual but do they?

also, for the unaware: mclaughlin v. florida was a 1964 supreme court case that struck down a florida anti-miscegenation law that criminalized cohabitation (and thus, as implied, sex) between white people and people of color of opposite genders. anti-miscegenation laws made marriage and sexual relationships between white people and people of color, most often specifically black people, a FELONY in several states in the united states up until the 1950s and 1960s. though it was already struck down by the supreme court, the state of alabama didn't repeal their law until 2000! there were THREE ATTEMPTS at codifying anti-miscegenation into the us constitution!

like yes, the issue here is partially straight white people's ignorance on the united states's history of homophobic policy, but it's also really important to recognize that arguably the majority of the issue here is straight white people's ignorance of the united states's history of codifying eugenics and antiblack racism.

"Alright," Vi says with a chuckle, "I think we've had enough for the evening."

That Caitlyn lets her pry the glass away without much complaint is proof in and of itself of a state of at least mild inebriation. Caitlyn does also pout though, an expression rare enough that Vi finds herself temporarily disarmed by the sight, her heart doing a teeny little backflip of its own.

"I'm not drunk," Caitlyn says. "And even if I were drunk, which I will once again say that I most certainly am not, would that be so bad considering we're in the comfort of our own home? Where no one will bother me?"

"No." Vi takes Caitlyn's wandering hands in her own to keep them from reaching for the crystal. It also lets her run her thumbs against the soft of Caitlyn's palms, far warmer to the touch than they usually are.

"Then?"

"It might not be bad," Vi says, "but you are very red right now. You could give my hair a run for its money."

The pout deepens. "I am not."

Vi chuckles and presses the back of one of her hands to Caitlyn's cheeks in lieu of a reply. There isn't a sizzling sound but honestly, she wouldn't have been that surprised to hear one.

"That's lovely," Caitlyn says with a sigh, already turning her head to nuzzle further against the touch. "Why are your hands so cold?"

"They're not. You're warm." Vi cups her cheek gently. "See?"

Caitlyn hums, eyes already beginning to flutter shut. "You may have a point."

"I may have a point?"

One of Caitlyn's hands swats half-heartedly at her arm. "Oh, shut up, smarty pants." She sighs. "It's genetic. S'not my fault."

"I know, love."

Another quiet hum. Vi gives the cheeks in her hands a slight squeeze and gets rewarded with a soft snort for her efforts.

Me the second a character is doomed by the narrative AND their own thoughts or actions: