#is this yellow flag behavior ��

[a11eya]

bakugou pauses mid-sentence, then leans in, pressing his face right into your neck.

you squirm, trying to push him away. his nose brushes against your skin, and a reluctant laugh escapes you. you put your hands on his chest and push.

“stop! you know i’m ticklish there,” you tell him.

he grips your waist, holding you in place. his eyes narrow.

“what the fuck is that?” he says.

“what?” you furrow your brow, leaning back to look into his face. “what’s what?”

bakugou scowls. “you smell like shitty cologne.”

“what?” you turn your head, attempting to smell yourself. you do catch a wisp of scent on you. “oh! it got cold out, and i forgot my jacket so todoroki lent me his. his cologne must’ve rubbed off on me.”

“why the hell would you take it?” bakugou says, scowl deepening.

“it was cold!”

“so stay cold.”

“katsuki!”

bakugou reaches up and pinches your nose. “you call me if you’re cold, i’ll bring you something.”

“you were on patrol!” you say, voice nasally. you bat at his hand, and he lets go.

“i don’t give a fuck. now go shower. don’t fucking pull this shit again.”

“you’re so annoying sometimes,” you say. “he was just being nice.”

bakugou drops his head to bite your shoulder.

“are you a dog,” you say, deadpan. your hand reaches up to thread through his hair. you tug at the strands a little.

he growls into you in response, and you break into a smile, laughing.

[bassia-bassensis]

I think there is something happening that I am not aware of And I would like to be enlightened.

[ckret2]

So a while ago some friends were talking about fans who claim the Same Coin theory is canon. And I made the mistake of saying:

Do you know who also has tons in common with Bill? Mabel. Yet nobody claims Bill reincarnated as Mabel. …wait now I want a "same coin but it's Mabel" AU. Funniest Bill reincarnation option. The all-seeing arsonist is making macaroni glitter art. The omnipotent tyrant is crying because a unicorn called her a bad person.

And then I overthought it for two months.

So—AU where after death, Bill's soul shoots 13 years into the past and reincarnates as Mabel. I'll call it ✨ Sparkly Coin AU ✨

Don't leave yet. Lemme show you why it works. Behold the eerie amount of parallels in their personalities, dialogue, behavior, mannerisms, tastes...

I could have kept going but my attention span ran out. All right, we all on board now? Convinced we could segue from one personality into the other? Great. Now here's why you should be interested: the juicy post-Weirdmageddon angst potential.

As long as a small fringe of the fandom still thinks Weirdmageddon is Mabel's fault, why not amp that up x100 and have some fun with it?

Is everyone sold now? Great. Let's get into the details. I've got 8 more pieces of art under the read more.

So the AU starts the instant Bill dies. Thanks to invoking his deal with the Axolotl—one way to absolve his crime, a different form, a different time—the Axolotl gives him a new shape and shoots him thirteen years into the past. Apparently, the Axolotl thought it would be very funny to stick Bill in the family that defeated him.

Which probably made for a jarring transition.

(It's fine, she's like 10 minutes old, she probably can't even tell who she's looking at. Not being able to tell who she was looking at is what got her into this situation ayyyy)

When Dipper & Mabel come back from Gravity Falls complaining about this triangular jerk Bill, their parents mention that Dipper's name was nearly Bill. See, after they knew they were going to have a boy, one night their mom dreamed about a visitor—some kind of magic pink salamander??—calling her child "BILL." Then at the next sonogram they found out they were having twins, the girl must've been hidden at a weird angle the first time, and they wanted matching names, so they thought, Bill and Bell. But they didn't really like Bell; but eventually they stumbled on Mabel, so to keep the names matching they switched from Bill to Mason. Isn't that the darnedest thing?

(Of course, Mabel and Dipper assume Bill harassed their parents to try to trick them into naming a kid after him. To be a jerk.)

When Bill meets Mabel, he's unaware that she's his future self—Bill's notably bad at doing things like, say, double-checking to see whether he's going to die anytime soon—but like... he can tell something's up.

Naturally, before visiting Gravity Falls, there were echoes of who Mabel used to be—but nothing anyone would be able to identify without context. All her Bill-ish quirks either smoothed out with time (see: how between second grade and fourth grade Mabel went from being the "freak" to the popular girl in class), or else they were accepted by her family as Mabel-ish quirks.

After they meet (and kill) Bill, they have the context to understand some of Mabel's behaviors... and unfortunately, some of Mabel's latent Bill-ness starts surfacing after she's been directly exposed to her prior incarnation.

The part of the Pines family familiar with Bill thinks the worst case scenario is that maybe Bill's survived and is slowly possessing Mabel; but far more likely, they think this is just some weird way of trying to subconsciously process last summer. Mabel doesn't think she's being weird, you guys are being weird, stop giving her weird looks. They get attacked by one triangle and now she can't wear yellow or pick up macrame as a hobby??

(It's not all red flags and uncomfortable triangle imagery, though. When Stan asks her what she'd like as a gift for some important event, she shyly admits that she thinks she's starting to outgrow her plastic gem jewelry and maybe she's old enough to get her first piece of real gold jewelry, if that's not too expensive? And Stan's never been so proud of her. Thirteen years old and already thinking about buying gold!)

But of course, the real fun starts when Mabel finds out.

That's the face of a girl who's just discovered that she tortured her great uncle. Now imagine running into the brother she possessed.

But I've already spent a million words and thirteen images on this post. If enough folks are interested in the AU maybe I'll expand on it later. Let me know what y'all think.

[repulsiveliquidation]

without you || Ona Batlle

warnings : angst w/ happy ending, i promise. mentions of illness and death. based on the poem above. enjoy :)

last night you were in my dreams

looked me in the eye

god

it felt so real

her side of the bed’s empty. there’s no note left for you in her pretty writing. her car is gone from its place next to yours in the driveway. her pillow smells so much like her, it’s almost like she’s still here. the tears. you hate the tears. they fall without your permission. they wet your pillow, “I’m sorry,” you whisper, the lump in your throat made it hard to swallow.

you roll over to her side of the bed, the cold sheets solidify your loneliness. Ona’s gone. she left this morning, bags seemingly packed for such a long time that there was a little dust bunny at the back of the closet from where she hid the duffle bags.

the sun shines into your room just a little, the window left open from the night before. you had shared a glass of wine there, laughing so loud that the old man who lived across from you yelled for you two to go to bed. his wife scolded him and apologized for his behavior, blowing you a kiss and a promise of fresh pastries she would send you the next morning.

you opened the front door and there they were, neatly packed in a little basket. they were Miguelitos, Ona’s favorite. tears filled your eyes again, picking up the pretty basket with an unsteady hand. the old lady calls from across the road and you force a smile, voice breaking when you yell a thank you in a terrible attempt at Spanish. she smiles and nods anyway, watching as you tread back into the house and she sees you wiping a tear away.

they’re still warm so you leave them on the kitchen uncovered. you call Jonatan and tell him you feel like, faking a sniffle that he doesn’t buy but he gives you the day off anyway. suspiciously, Ona calls him not three minutes later with the same excuse. normally you’d call and tell him you were both under the weather but separate calls raise flags in his mind.

you crawl back into bed and begin to sob, hot tears staining your cheeks and pillow. you pull her pillow close to your chest and try to calm yourself, knowing it was no use when all you wanted was your girlfriend to hold you close and tell you everything was going to be alright.

she had done this two times before. Ona was a perfectionist, a master of her craft. every pass, tackle, dribble, and kick had to be perfect. one loose ball that was her fault meant another hour on the pitch perfecting the pass till her toes hurt from kicking the ball. the first time you had to physically throw her over your shoulder and drag her home, having a strict conversation with Alexia as she cleaned up. you made her promise to take her health seriously or Alexia would wait for the green light from you to be benched until she bucked up.

the message got to her head for about six months until a badly timed tackle earned her a second yellow of the game and the send-off. she ran off the pitch in anger, lashing out at Vicky who was comforting her as she walked off. you were on the bench with a little ankle sprain and waddled after her with Alexia, Mapi, and Pina in tow. you were ready to give her an earful when you heard muffled sobbing in the changing room. you told the others you would handle it and they backed off, faces full of concern for their friend.

“Ona?” you called, walking into the room slowly. she wiped her tears away, trying to look like she wasn’t crying. she refused to raise her head, eyes fixed on her muddy cleats.

“Amor, it’s just me,” you comfort, sitting beside her and rubbing her back. she flinches but leans into your shoulder, crying into your pressed shirt. you rock her a little and let her cry it out, gripping your coat tight as she shook in your arms.

“shh, it was just badly timed princesa. it happens.”

“I’ve let the team down, they need me…” she cried harder, snot running down her face. you reach into your pocket and pull out some tissues, reminding yourself to ask the girls which one of them stuffed it into your pocket. you wipe her face and kiss her nose.

“the girls are fine, we’re five goals up with ten minutes to go. we’ve got this game in the bag.”

“but the next games…”

“should give you a chance to rest and regroup. you’ve been working yourself to the bone again.”

“I’ve been sloppy at training, I can’t afford to make mistakes!” she yelled standing up and storming into the showers.

you lean back and decide to give her some space to breathe, hearing the loud chattering of girls high off another win and a clean sheet. you smile and congratulate them, not wanting them to worry about their teammate. Ona comes out from the showers second to last, hair wet and cheek rosy from the hot water. you sit in her cubby patiently waiting and she kisses you.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you,” she apologizes, fiddling with her fingers. you nod and smile at her, standing up gingerly since your legs have gone numb. she changes and you notice that she’s got one of your ratty t-shirts on and your training sweats. you shake your head and walk out the door, yelling that you’d have the car warmed up for in the front in five.

she scrambles into the car and relaxes into the seat, muscles visibly melting into the warm upholstery. you drive leisurely back home, the Barcelona sunset to your left. Ona snores in the passenger seat softly, not even waking up when the scent of the Chinese takeout you pick up fills the car.

she rouses when you park in front of your house, feeling the familiar cobblestone that you have to drive over just before bringing the car into park. she smacks her lips and feels your lips press a soft kiss on her cheek.

“We’re home, my love.”

she smiles and stretches her arms, climbing out of the car sleepily. you’ve brought all the bags into the house, already cleaning out her kit bag. she rummages through the bags of food and smiles when she smells her favorite. maybe taking a break wasn’t such a bad idea.

it was as if you were here again

deep down inside me feel

Ona locks herself in her room. the sheets feel foreign, itching her skin. you always had the softest sheets, catering to her sensitive skin. the bonus was that they always smelled like you and she made sure to take deep breaths when you changed the sheets every week.

the room smelled stale too. an expected circumstance since she was rarely over here anyway. your house was closer to the pitch and she already had half the closet to herself, why make the trip every time?

there was a knock on the door about twenty minutes after she got home. she knew it was Aitana with a billion questions but all she wanted was to be alone. really she wanted to be with you but she’d fucked that up. she didn’t even know why she ran, the pressure of performing was becoming too much and she didn’t want to be a burden. she couldn’t bear to see that look of disappointment she saw glimmer over your face when she got her first red card with Barça.

the banging on her bedroom door was what woke her up hours later. Aitana mentioned breakfast in the oven and coffee in the coffee pot before the front door slammed shut. she checked her phone and there was radio silence, half hoping that you had left an angry voicemail telling her to come home. instead, she was met with her wallpaper of you holding Coco over the summer at her parent’s house.  

tears pool in her eyes as she scrolls through her camera roll, swiping through all the silly photos you made her take that night. she threw her phone on the bed and screamed into the mattress, hoping deep down inside she was braver in another lifetime.

and when the light came to wake me,

and you slowly starting to fade away,

my soul was longing for you to take me,

Ona walked onto the pitch three days later, heart aching to see you. she stepped onto the pitch and spotted you talking to the girls, Ingrid slapping you on the back laughing at a joke Mapi told the group. she decides to avoid you, too cowardly to face the music. you notice her and smile but she turns away quickly, busying herself with her laces. you decide to try and corner her at the end of practice you do, needing the help of the girls to keep her from running to her car the moment Jonatan blows his whistle.

“why did you run away like that, Oni?” you ask her quietly, the rest of the team filtering out when Alexia begins to shepherd them outside.

“it’s none of your business,” she growls, tears flowing down her cheeks as she packs her kit bag. you grab her shoulder and she turns around with anger seething in her eyes. you’ve never seen hatred in her eyes before, it was unlike her; unlike your cheerful, noisy, playful but shy girlfriend.

“Ona? what’s gotten into you?” you ask, feeling tired of all the secrets she’s been harboring. for weeks you’ve been concerned about her odd behavior. she’s been making frequent visits to the medics, getting off practice earlier and staying longer sometimes, random trips to the ‘store’ for hours on end. you thought that she was planning something since your anniversary was coming up and she liked to make a big thing about it but when she left that morning it hit you that she was probably preparing to leave. this time though, it was for good.

it's her third round of dialysis this week. Ona sat in the lumpy chair of her dialysis center when her doctor walks in.

“how does it look, doctor?”

“it’s fourth-stage renal failure, Ona. you need a transplant or else you’re never playing football again. frankly, I don’t know how you’ve kept playing this long.”

“Jonatan knows.”

“I see,” he says and sits. “does your girlfriend know?”

“she’s not my girlfriend anymore.”

“did you decide that for her, or did she have any say?”

Ona looks up at him in shock. she tries not to jostle the machine as she sits up.

“How did you know?”

“you looked like you didn’t want to believe it when you said it.”

“she deserves better than,” she gestures to the machine, “this.”

“she deserves you,” he says and stands. as he walks away and Ona is about to cry, he turns and clears his throat. “she’s donated blood here before, she’s a perfect donor match.”

Ona tries to cry into her palm quietly, the weight of her decision bearing down on her shoulders.

but instead,

i must live without you,

for another day.

you wake up feeling groggy, and the sound of steady heartbeats fills the room. there’s another heartbeat that deep down sounds familiar and it puts a smile on your face.

a chilling call from Jonatan put you in this hospital bed. he explained that Ona needed a transplant and that you were a perfect match. you cried in his office, body shaking with anger at yourself more than at Ona. you knew that it ran in her family and that her age was when the onset was. the extra visits to the doctor and ‘shop’ trips all made sense now. you punched a wall on your way out dramatically, crying like a baby all the way home. you barged into her house, Aitana following behind you like a puppy.

“so you were just going to run and wait for you to die?” you yelled at her, body shaking in fury. she just stared at her fingers, fiddling with the end of the throw blanket in her lap.

“answer me!”

“you don’t deserve this!” she screamed back, tears running down her face. “you don’t deserve someone who is dying to be your girlfriend!”

tears flood down your cheeks and you hear her door click closed, Aitana in front of it.

“you had no right to decide that for me, Oni!”

“I couldn’t put you through this. if I don’t get a kidney soon, first it’ll be football then it’ll be me!”

“I know I’m a match.”

her head whips up to look at you so fast, you’re sure she’s gone and given herself another ailment.

“no.”

“I’m a perfect match, Onita.”

“I could never ask you to do that!”

“you’re not asking if I’ve already asked them to make sure it goes to you.”  

“Bebé, I–”

“no, you would do the same for me. I love you too much to see you like this,” you kneel in front of her as she sits on the bed, feeling overwhelmed. “Please, Oni,” you beg with your head in her lap, “Please let me help you.”

Ona wakes up and looks over at you, sighing in relief that the surgery was a success. the nurses have pushed your beds close enough together that you stretch your arm out and she does the same, fingers laced together with an unspoken promise to face every challenge that comes your way the only way you knew was right; together.

[sweetpascal]

— 𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐰𝐨, 𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐝

pairing: knight!marcus acacius x princess!reader

pinterest board inspo

summary: an arranged marriage in the works. one on one jousting for your honor. celebratory feasts and extravagant dances. it all seemed exciting. however, as a princess with your mind on becoming a Dame, along with your father's main knight making sure you are always on your best behavior, some dreams are just meant to be crushed.

warnings: MINORS DNI, big age gap [reader is 19 and marcus is 54], slowwww burn, medieval times au, possible historical inaccuracies [maybe ??], reader has hair long enough to braid, father-daughter relationship issues, first kiss, forbidden love, non-sexual touching, flirtatious banter, allusions to sex, sword fighting, TW: major character death, TW: blood and gore, angst angst angst

wc: 21.6k (i maayyyyy have gone a bit overboard with this one)

notes: this is my submission for @almostfoxglove 's angst writing challenge (beautiful moodboard created by her). i'm not gonna lie, this is gonna be ANGSTYYYYYYY. so please, grab your tissues and hold on for dear life. sword divider by the wonderful @saradika-graphics ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

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follow @sweetpascal-notifs for future fic updates.

Wiping the sweat from your brow, you exerted yourself once more. Swinging the heavy sword almost the same length as your body and slamming the blade repeatedly onto the side of the wooden post right by the outskirts of the woods. Blisters had begun to form on your palms from the improper protection needed, but the care you had for gloves was thrown to the back of your mind. Little grunts heavily exhaled from your throat each time you swung the sword down and around, further adding slice and slice into the mangled wood post. Feeling the burning sensation in your chest intensify, you had decided now would be a good time to rest.

You placed yourself on the nearest rock and laid the sword across your lap. Gently stroking your blistered thumb over the engraved markings of your older deceased brother's name towards the handle. He lost his life like a true knight in battle. His death was so long ago but it felt like yesterday. You remembered the morning he left. He had hoisted you up into his arms with the promise that he would return. When Marcus Acacius, your father's knight, returned back to the castle with your brother's bloodied sword in his hands, you knew. Almost a decade long feud with no success or improvement. With your brother's sword now in your possession, even though your father doesn't approve of a princess having such a manly hobby, it was your goal to finish what he started. Whether your father, the king, liked it or not, you would rather die fighting than be married off.

"Why am I not surprised that I would find you here, princess?"

Turning at the sound of the distinct voice that is of Knight Acacius, you observe the way his lips quirk into a tired grin. One of his arms lays limp at his side while the other rests on the handle of his sword attached to his hip. He wears only his chest plate with the yellow markings of your father's castle, as well as an engraved crow. It was the same as the flags that hung around the interior and exterior.

"Why am I not surprised that you would follow me out here, Marcus?" You retort, nose scrunching at the sound of his deep laughter from your sassy question.

He comes closer now, eyeing the wood post that has been abused from your sharp sword. Marcus has been your father's knight since before you were born. He had started as an esquire when he was just a teen boy. Your grandfather had been king at that point. When the title was passed down to your father, he deemed Marcus as worthy of getting a ranking higher. He earned the title, of course. Knight Acacius was a hardworking man. He did what needed to be done in a timely manner. He kept you and your father safe. He did everything to keep the king happen, and you could see that it was paying off.

"Your father sent me to get you. It's time for you to get ready for the tournament," he tells you quietly, already knowing your opinions on the matter.

When you let out a scoff at his words, Marcus nods to himself as if to say 'Yep, there it is.' There's a long beat of silence as he waits for you to gather your thoughts and express them through words. Unlike your father, Marcus has always been a patient man, which works perfectly with his title. There have been long nights after hours where you've poured your heart out to him; your unhappiness, your fears, your worries, your dreams. He always lent you an ear and shoulder to cry into you.

"Tournament," the word was bitter on your tongue. With an eye roll that made Marcus hold back a chuckle, you stood up and made your way back to the post. "You mean the sad excuse of a competition where men compare whose cock is the biggest for me to suck?"

Marcus choked on his spit at the vulgarity of your words. When you looked over your shoulder and gave him a teasing smile that expressed your youth, he took a half step back with widened eyes. He shook his head at himself and cleared his throat to make it feel less constricted. Why is his heart beating so fast? Why is he sweating? Why are his hands trembling? All of which had happened after you shot him that teasing little smile if yours. Oh, this was bad.

Wincing once again as one of the maidservants snagged your hair accidentally, you couldn't help but to grow annoyed. Not at the older woman, but at the idea that princesses are supposed to always be prim, proper, and innocent. She apologized softly with a guilty smile at you in the mirror. Like Marcus, Celeste had been in your family for a long time. You saw her almost as a mother figure. Closer to your father's age, Celeste had stepped up in helping your father raise you and your brother after the death of your mother. She had succumbed to her injuries during your birth, and you always felt like your father harbored a deep animosity towards you.

"I know you're not fond of these braids, princess," she tells you quietly, her wrinkly eyes glancing at you briefly before looking down at her fingers in your hair. "But it's just for today."

Letting out a small, soulless laugh, you tell her, "Father always has a trick or two up his sleeve, Celeste. You know that. Marcus knows that. The whole castle knows that. He may say one thing and mean another. That's just how he is, I guess." The little shrug you give her makes her tut.

"I do know," she says quietly, reaching over your shoulder to grab a few flower stems to slide them into your braids, almost creating a delicate flower crown. "And I also know that this is not the life you see for yourself."

You look at her in shock through the mirror. She gives you barely a nod and cascades the rest of your hair behind your back to comb through the wavy strands. There are a few beats of silence as you sit and wonder. Has Marcus gone behind your back and told her your secrets? Has she overheard one of the nights where you and the knight sat in seclusion? Has she read your diary? All of these questions are rushing through your mind before you could stop them. What if she tells your father? What if he isolates you permanently?

"I know what you're thinking and it's not true," she speaks up when she sees your eyes darting back and forth frantically. She feels your shoulder deflate with relief. She stops brushing your hair and rests her chin atop your head. You both look at each other in the mirror. "Your mother was a very intimidating woman. That's what drew your father in and made him fall in love with her. He sees so much of her in you, and that's why he's trying to hold onto you as tight as he can for the time being."

Feeling a tickle in your nostrils and a lump forming in your throat, your eyes shut before you could let tears spill over the bottom lid.

"I... I can't go on like this, Celeste," you whisper brokenly, finally turning in your seat to look up at her. Your breathing becomes shuddering as the emotions begin to overwhelm you. "I wasn't born to become a wife." You started to become angrier the more you spoke. "I'm not a child anymore! No man shall tell me what to do! Not my father, not Marcus, not any other king or prince! I was put on this earth to fight like William!" Uttering your brother's name from your trembling lips finally let the dam break.

Celeste was quick to bring you into her arms, hushing you softly and tenderly holding your head against her chest. Your shoulders shook with each sob that wracked through your body. You were exhausted and honestly, scared. Maybe this was really it. Maybe your dreams will always be dreams. You're going to die as a wife and not as a warrior.

"Oh, dear child," Celeste whispers and pulls your head from her chest to gently hold your cheeks, her thumbs swiping away the tear tracks so as to not ruin your light makeup. "You are going to do great things. And you are going to be a great woman. It will take time, but you will see it happen. Now, give me a smile."

Hearing her encouragement and reassurance, feeling the safety in her arms, you were finally able to calm down and steady your breathing. As she swipes a knuckle under your eye to wipe away a lonesome tear, you give her a little smile and laugh to yourself at your outburst.

"There she is," she smiles as well, her wrinkles much more prominent. She fixes your makeup and turns you back around to face the mirror. Your hair falls over your shoulders on either side, the ends curled elegantly. You really do look like a true princess. In another world, you would've been happy. But you didn't look, nor did you feel like yourself. However, the proud look on Celeste's face silenced those thoughts. "You look just like your mother when she was your age."

There was a gentle rapt at the door. Celeste called out for them to enter, and it was Marcus. He gives the older woman a nod before he sets his eyes on you. When you make eye contact with him through the mirror, it feels like time has slowed down. It feels like all the air had gotten knocked out of him, and he has half a mind to grab his chest as his heart nearly beats out of the flesh. Your cheeks warmed at his obvious attention to you. It was rare for him to see you looking like this. You never wore makeup, your hair was almost never done prettily, you loathed dresses. But sitting here right now looking like a princess, having his eyes on you made you feel beautiful for once. He didn't leer. Matter of fact, he never leered at you as though you were a piece of meat. Some of the feasts that your father has thrown in the past made you uncomfortable with the amount of unwanted attention you would get from men that were desperate to court you.

But it never felt like that with Marcus. He respected you. He respected how you perceived yourself, he understood your ambitions and what you can see yourself doing down the line. You were an inspiration to him. Princesses at your age are already married and having their second child by now. Never would a princess touch a sword. But you handle one like an expert on the battlegrounds. Marcus would never admit it aloud, but he would love to see you fight. With your years of training, he knows for a fact that you would put up one hell of a fight. He only wishes your father was more accepting of that matter.

When you stand from your seat in front of the mirror, Marcus swallows down his gasp of awe. You wore a soft pink, floor length gown with white gold trimming that accentuated your curves. The neckline was low and tasteful, but nothing too extreme that would be considered inappropriate as a princess. The candlelight makes you glow like an angel. The flowers in your hair as well as the soft makeup adds to the delicacy. Celeste stands behind you to clip on a pearl necklace and some dangly earrings that match.

"Please, don't make fun of me," you give Marcus a small, embarrassed laugh as he still hasn't said anything upon seeing you. "You can make all the jokes you want after the feast, yes?"

Celeste tuts and lightly swats at your arm. The knight hasn't looked away from you. Even as you cross the other side of the room to grab your soft pink slippers with sewn beads that match the colors of your gown. You preferred your calf-high leather boots.

"Do you need a glass of water, Marcus? You look like you've seen a ghost," Celeste says behind your back as you bend down to slide on the surprisingly comfortable slippers.

He clears his throat when you look at him once again with a bashful smile. He takes a step forward to you. Without even realizing it, his hand reaches up to your hair to fix a flower stem that was out of place. It was until Celeste obnoxiously cleared her throat that he realized what he was doing. You both broke eye contact, both feeling like you were caught doing unspeakable acts. She stares at you with squinted eyes, then at Marcus. He shifts uncomfortably under her scrutinizing gaze. He clears his throat again.

"The king, uh, requests your presence, my princess," he briefly stutters when you make eye contact again, but he looks away before it could reach two seconds.

My princess. He always called you 'princess,' or occasionally your name. But he never included 'my.' It caught you off guard, and you feel like Celeste noticed because she nods at Marcus and shoos him away. He gives her a brief nod and leaves the room. Now, it was just you and the older maidservant. As she gives you one last touch up, she looks at the door and then at you.

"Whatever you're thinking, don't."

And with that, she ushers you out the door.

Your cheeks were hurting from the number of fake smiles you were giving all the guests. Your arm was aching from shaking all the hands of other kings, queens, princes, princesses, and all the like. In the corner of the dining hall was a small band playing music. They each looked at peace playing their music. They looked in their element, doing what they enjoy. Envy clawed at your chest. Looking away with a scowl, you focused on your chalice filled with the finest wine brought specially from one of the kingdoms visiting for the feast. You can hear your father's boisterous laughter across the hall as he sits with one of the king's. His face was flushed, and you knew he's had more than a few cups of wine.

You sit on your designated throne and observe the party before you. One of the jester's stops in front of you. He does a little dance, the bells on his shoes and hat jingling. It brings a smile to your lips, and then you start laughing. Jesters were one of your favorite people to witness during these times. They offered a temporary distraction and left you feeling lighthearted. Upon hearing your laughter, the jester stops dancing goofily and reaches a hand up to you. Your hand enters his and he gently kisses the top before dancing away to entertain the other guests.

"Looks like you have an admirer," you hear from above your seated position.

You look up and see Marcus leaning against the top of your throne, his arm stretched across it with his thumb tapping at the carvings. He rests his other hand on the handle of his sword. You've noticed that it was a habit of his, even when there was no danger around. Grinning up at him, you shake your head.

"Well, it's better than having a spineless prince as an admirer," you tell him half-jokingly, taking a small sip of your wine and looking back to the crowd.

Marcus also observes the crowd silently. The king was talking to one of the queen's and her son, the older man motioning behind him in your direction. When the prince looks at you, Marcus can see you recoil. There was an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. Having been in the family for decades, he's grown fond of you. Being able to witness you grow into the beautiful young woman you are today was a blessing. Your personality shines even brighter. Your quick wit and sharp tongue often deemed him speechless. It was a breath of fresh air compared to the other princesses he has met in his lifetime. You weren't like the others.

"Well," he clears his throat to capture your attention once more. "At least you get to see these spineless princes joust for your honor and courtship. The one in the blue tunic looks like a starved lamb."

The insult causes you to choke on your wine, some of it spitting out and landing on your dress as you break into a bubbly fit of laughter. Marcus muffles his own laughter by biting down on his bottom lip. Your father claps his hands loudly and makes a motion for the band to ease their music completely.

"Attention, guests! As you all know, my dear daughter, the princess, is up for courtship. It is my duty as her father, the king, to ensure that she has a safe and fulfilling marriage. Which is why we are holding this tournament!" There was a round of applause, and you find it so hard to not roll your eyes. "For the one prince to earn the honor of courting my daughter, you must fight valiantly, live honorably, and go forth courageously!" There was another round of applause, some even whistling. "Now, please make your way out to the field and get comfortable while the princes get ready to joust!"

The crowd cheered one last time before some of your father's knights led them out to the roped-off enclosure outside of the castle. Marcus held a hand to you, gently grasping and pulling you up from your seat. The distance between your bodies was short. He can smell your sweet perfume and see the shimmering of your eyeshadow. He prays to the gods above that you couldn't hear how fast his heart was beating. If only he knew that you were feeling the same way. From how close he stood in front of you, the gray in his beard was much more prominent and his thick hair looked curlier than usual. He smelled like a mix of leather, musk, and a woodsy, scented oil he must've purchased from one the markets along the outskirts of the castle. It was overwhelming, having him so close to you. Your lips parted, and you caught the way his eyes darted down to look at them.

"My daughter," you hear your father's footsteps coming closer, and you step away from Marcus who quickly broke eye contact to greet your father. "You have stained your gown!"

You looked down and noticed the dark wine droplets. Giving your father a sheepish smile, you offer him a kiss on the cheek as an apology. He claps a hand on Marcus' shoulder, both men now falling into a conversation about the tournament for your hand in marriage. Celeste ushers you down from your throne, her left hand holding your right as her right arm is around your back.

"Don't think I haven't noticed the way you look at Knight Acacius," she tells you in a hushed voice. You look at her in shock, your lips parted to disagree. But when you see her pointed look, you decide to keep your mouth shut. Sighing quietly as you both round the corner of the stone halls, you speak up.

"It's not like that, Celeste," you tell her. "Marcus just... He knows how I feel about... all of this. It's all so overwhelming. There's nothing I can do to change my father's mind, so I might as well play the part as the obedient princess."

When you both reach outside, you can hear the faintness of Marcus' voice a few feet away from you with your father's voice in tow. You and Celeste stand beside each other in silence as you scan the crowd sitting in their seats around the dirt pit specifically for when the knights are training.

"You know," Celeste began. "Your mother never wanted this life for you either." You look at her with interest. She nods at the curiosity in your eyes.

Giving you her typical wink, she motions for you to climb the steps to sit in your throne. You were high up now, the pit directly in the middle of your view with the crowd on either side. Your father sits beside you with a huffed groan and affectionately pats your knee.

"We have quite the rally, don't we?" He sloppily drinks from his jeweled chalice. You cringe and look away. Marcus stands to your father's left with his arms crossed in position, his back straight and broad with authority. He feels eyes on him, and he turns to face you, dropping his right eye in a wink before looking straight ahead again. You look out into the crowd with warm cheeks as you bite down on your bottom lip to keep your smile from spreading.

Two of the esquires blew the fellow buisines to start the tournament. The crowd silenced as well as your father. Two princes on two horses came out of the small tunnel and stood on either side of a horizontal wooden post, both on opposite sides of each other, facing one another. Both men were dressed head to toe in armor with the feathered colors of their kingdom on top of their helmets. In their hands were wooden lances. There was a tense silence in the air as the princes readied themselves. When the buisines blew once more, both men charged at each other on their horses with the lances pointing at once another chest level.

There was a booming clang of wood against metal as the lance from the prince on the right slammed into the chest of the prince on the left. Some of the wood splintered and nearly exploded from the force. The crowd gasped and proclaimed with shock. The left prince fell off his horse and landed hard on the ground. The crowd clapped for him as the right prince galloped around the pit in a celebratory manner. His arrogant gloating was a turn-off. It worsened when he lifted his helmet and looked at you up above, blowing a kiss in your direction with his hand. You let out a scoff of disgust. Marcus hides his laugh by coughing into his fist.

There was another hour of this jousting. Then, there were the top two princes – the Prince of Ehnkhart and the Prince of Ivanard. Both princes were unappealing to look at and had the personalities of a wet rag. You'd rather marry one of the jesters.

When the Prince of Ivanard was deemed the winner, you almost had to fight back a gag as the bile grew at the back of your throat. You certainly were not going to marry that yellow-toothed, spineless bastard. Your father bellowed in his seat happily as the crowd roared with delight when the prince threw his fist into the air and pointed at you. Glancing at Marcus with an expression he could only describe as horror, his face morphed into something grim. He bit his tongue to stay silent. He couldn't say anything, even if he wanted to. That was not his duty as a knight. And one of the main priorities was to never go against the king under any circumstances.

"My dearest daughter," your father lets out a full bellied laugh as he takes both of your hands in his. "You are now going to be an Ivanard!"

When the buisines blew in a celebratory manner, the crowd cheered louder as your father clapped. Everything was booming and overwhelming. You can feel it all closing in on you. Your ears began ringing and your breathing became shallow and unsteady. Sweat dotted along your hairline. Your eyes frantically scanned the crowd for Celeste, needing her kind eyes to lay upon your frightful ones and her motherly touch. The vibrations of the crowd stomping their feet could be felt underneath your own.

"My daughter, come and meet your husband! He is most excited to see you!" Your father yanked you up roughly before you had time to register what was happening.

"Your daughter is even more beautiful up close, your majesty," the Prince of Ivanard tells your father as he snatches your hand and kisses your knuckles with his dry lips. The feel of his thick ginger beard had you snatching your hand away. He looks at you with surprise and offense.

Your father laughs awkwardly and roughly pats your shoulder. "She's just a bit shy. Aren't you, my dear?"

The prince laughs awkwardly as well, shifting on his feet and accidentally bumping into Marcus. The knight stares down at him sternly with hidden disdain. The prince grips your shoulder and tries to lead you away as he says, "Well, princess, why don't we get to know each other one on one before we further our courtship, yes?"

Upon hearing that, you've had enough. You yanked your shoulder away from his grimy grip and backed away from the men crowding in on you. Your father's white eyebrows furrow and you can practically feel his temper rising. Marcus steps a foot closer to him in case he would need to intervene.

"No," you spoke through clenched teeth. Your fists tightened at your sides as your breathing grew heavy and fast with each passing second.

Your father looks at you, then at the prince, then at Marcus, then back at you. "No?" He mocks your answer. As he takes a step towards you, you take another step back.

"You heard me, father," you shakily spoke as your voice wavered and grew weaker. "You will not marry me off to a swine." You spit the word at the prince who scoffs in offense. "You will not force your values onto me as though I am a lesser woman to you. I will not live an unhappy life and ignore my capabilities."

The crowd's cheering gets quieter and quieter until they stop completely upon noticing the tense atmosphere around you and your father. Marcus feels pride and fear bubbling in his chest. He knew just how much you were holding in when it came to your father. He never expected now would be the time for it to spill out all at once. You harbored a different kind of courage that he admired. Any other princess would have kept their mouths shut and gone through an unhappy marriage. Ever since you were a child, you were always independent and following your eldest brother's footsteps, wanting to be just like him when you reached adulthood. Being a woman in this life wasn't easy, that's for sure.

"Capabilities," your father scoffed and waved you off with a hand as though you were a fly. He half turned away and glared at you. "And what capabilities might you speak of, my dear daughter?" The way he speaks to you was demeaning and you've never felt so belittled in your entire life.

When you glanced at Marcus over your father's shoulder, he subtly shook his head disapprovingly. That was his way of silently telling you to not poke the bear and make the situation worse by adding more coal to the fire. To be honest, he was terrified of the outcome. Your father was not a violent man, but he was a scary man when he was rage filled. Looking back at your father, he raised his eyebrows at you.

"I want to be a fighter," you tell him quietly, like a little mouse. "I want to continue William's legacy and ride into battle with his sword and finish what was started."

There was light, gossiping chatter that was faintly heard between the guests who observed everything. You had almost forgotten that you stopped the courtship celebration. Your father stood frozen in his place. His jaw ticked and his hands trembled. Marcus stepped closer and placed a hand on his shoulder, about to speak into his ear but your father held a hand up, further silencing his knight.

"You listen to me, girl," your father spoke lowly as he stepped closer to your frozen frame. "You will never be like my son." Hearing those words had you choking on a heartbroken gasp. "You will never have the strength of a man to become a powerful fighter like my son." He steps closer and closer. "You will never be nothing more than a dutiful wife that will bear children to continue your husband's legacy."

Smelling the wine on his breath had you recoiling. Each cruel word spewing from his lips adds a crack to your heart. These were the words you were afraid to hear. Having them told to your face in front of the public added to the crushing embarrassment. You couldn't break down. Not now, especially not in front of your father and Marcus, who stands behind with a somber look on his face.

Staring into your father's wild eyes, you brokenly whispered, "He may have been your son, but he was my brother and my greatest friend, and I will continue his legacy whether you like it or not."

He swallowed thickly and realized you weren't going to back down obediently like he thought.

"Marcus!" He barked, causing the shoulders of his knight to jump. "Take her to her chambers and lock the door. She will stay there until I believe that she is ready to come out."

"Absolutely not!" You shouted in his face, the fire in the pit of your stomach growing heavier as you hear those words. "You will not imprison me!"

"And you will not disrespect me in front of our guests, child!" He all but bellowed in your face, some spittle landing on your cheeks and nose. You flinched your head away but didn't move a step back as he got into your space. "You will follow your orders as a princess and do as I say!"

Marcus finally creates space between you and your father. Celeste had run up the wooden steps of the viewing post to step in front of your father to place her hands on his chest. The Prince of Ivanard stood silently as he didn't want to get in between a family feud, especially since the angry king was his soon-to-be father-in-law.

"Let's go, princess," Marcus speaks softly in your ear, his large hand tenderly holding your arm to usher you away from drama.

As he finally, and successfully, pulled you away, you passed by your father and shouted over your shoulder to let your final words hurt him. "God damn you!"

There was a collective gasp amongst the crowd, and you were finally ushered away in the hands of Marcus.

It had been almost three weeks since the argument between you and your father. He had followed through with his promise of locking you in your chambers. You thought it was to scare you, but once you heard the lock click and you attempted to open your door, you stepped away in shock. Marcus tried to get your father to change his mind, to change his ways, but it was no use. Your father was a stubborn, stubborn man. Celeste even tried to talk your father out of this harsh treatment, but she too was waved off. The only time you were allowed out was for dinners in the dining hall which only consisted of you and your father sitting at opposite ends of the long table. Dinners were awkward and tense. Neither of you opted to speak to one another. Stubbornness runs in the family.

When it reached day twenty-six of isolation, you were growing more frantic over the prospect of never feeling freedom. All you had were your books and your diary. Celeste and Marcus were both instructed to not interact with you. If they were to go against the king's wishes, there would be severe consequences. You knew it was all talk considering the maidservant and the knight were the only two people your father cared about deeply. You thought he cared about you too, but you were wrong.

Tonight wasn't any different than the others. Sitting on the balcony that overlooks the garden, you had a quill in one hand with your diary resting on the smooth stone parapet of the balcony. It was Celeste that had taught you how to write in elegant cursive. She was your teacher for, essentially, everything.

Looking up at the stars and all the beautiful constellations, you couldn't help but to think of what life would be like if you weren't a princess; what life would be like if your mother was still alive, if William was still alive. You had a feeling that your brother would've secretly trained you after hours whilst your father slept. The thought pulled a smile on your lips, and you made sure to write it in your diary.

"Princess," you heard a hushed voice from down below. Your hand froze and you strained your ears, assuming you were only hearing things from being isolated for so long. But then you heard it again. "Psst! Princess! Down here!" You leaned over the edge of the parapet and glanced down, your eyes widening when you see Marcus standing atop one of the stone benches.

"Marcus!" You hissed quietly before you scanned the perimeter. There was a full moon tonight, which meant that everyone in the castle was dead asleep, aside from you and Marcus, obviously. "What on earth are you doing down there?"

He holds a finger to his lips. Suddenly, he throws a bundle of rope up to you and it plops down beside your feet. Completely and utterly confused, you leaned over the edge again.

"Tie the end around one of the pillars! I'm going to hoist myself up to you!"

The idea was absurd. The more you stood up there staring down at him, the more antsy he became.

"Princess, please!"

Without saying another word, you did as he asked. Tying one end of the rope around one of the pillars into a double looped knot, you tossed down the rest of the rope. You watched curiously as Marcus grabbed the rope with both hands and began hoisting himself up. He lets out a hoarse grunt with each pull up, no doubt struggling under his body weight. His arms were exposed from the tunic he wore, his biceps bulging from exertion. When he finally reached the top, he panted heavily and swung his long legs over the edge and hopped down onto the balcony. He was now face to face with you.

"Why couldn't you unlock my door instead?" You asked him with arms crossed and a tilted head that made his heart flutter.

Marcus shrugged. "I didn't want to possibly disturb your father's slumber by the obnoxious creaking of your door."

Squinting at him for not providing any further explanation, you offered him the other empty chair on the other side of the balcony. As he takes a seat, you take the time to really observe him in the moonlight coupled with the candles lit around your room. The tunic he wore showcased his broadness. Without his armor or casual chest plate and arm wear, as well as his sword always attached to his hip, seeing him in all his normalcy was definitely a change. A good change, if that. He looked comfortable and relaxed. No longer was he standing as straight as a rod. When you caught him curiously peering at the open pages of your diary, you were quick to push his head away with your pointer finger before shutting the book.

"That is for my eyes and my eyes only, Knight Acacius," you tell him in a teasing tone, a gentle smile on your lips that had him smiling as well.

"I'm no longer Marcus to you, huh?"

"Well, that depends on if you're going to be on my good side tonight. I really don't want to add you to the list."

He scratches at his scruffy jaw and chuckles quietly at your sassy answer. You briefly retreat inside your room to safely tuck your diary under your pillow. When you go back outside onto the balcony, Marcus sees the small wooden bowl of green and purple grapes in your hands that Celeste had left outside your door. He nods at you in thanks when you motion the bowl over to him. He plucks a few grapes from the stem and watches as you lean back in your seat with the bowl on your lap. The nightgown covering your body made him feel like you looked like a goddess under the moonlight. The delicate skin of your shoulders, collarbones, and arms were exposed. He noticed a distinct scar just above your left breast.

"How did you get that scar?"

You looked shocked at his question. Of course, you forgot just how exposed you were to the older knight. But you didn't feel uncomfortable under his inquisitive gaze. Looking down at the scar as best as you could, you touched the tip of your fingers onto the mark.

"Uh, it's a funny story," you let out a small laugh and looked at Marcus with crinkled eyes that caused a dimple to form on your cheek. "I was only a small child when it happened. I believe I was nine years old, and William was nineteen. He was outside in the pit practicing. I was curious as to what he was doing, you know? I stepped too close just as swung his sword back and the tip of the blade sliced right through my dress." Bursting into a fit of giggles, you remembered the horrified expression on your brother's face and the number of apologies spewing from his lips. "If I was just a few inches shorter, he would've gotten my throat."

Marcus shuts his eyes and shakes his head at the thought. When he opens them, he notices the melancholy, faraway look in your eyes at the mention of William. He quietly cleared his throat, causing your eyes to shoot up at his own. There was a moment of silence. He licked his lips and tried to form the correct words without ruining the mood.

"He would've been a good king," he tells you softly. He rolls a grape between his fingers. "He would tell me all of the ideas he had for the kingdom." Marcus laughed at a particular incident where he had stumped the young man. "He also would've been a good jester."

That was what made you cackle. You slapped your mouth with both hands and Marcus covered his own with his fist to keep from laughing. The two of you shook your heads and eased the laughter until a comfortable lull washed over. As he looked down at the grape in his hands, he mulled over the 'what if' questions that continuously ran through his head. Suddenly, he felt a thump on his forehead. A purple grape landed on his lap. As he went to lift his head to look at you, another grape hit him on the head and bounced off, landing a few feet away on the ground. You giggled behind your palm at his perplexed face.

"You are a child," he tells you in a joking manner.

"If I'm old enough to be married off to a prince, then I'm old enough to play games with my favorite knight," you tell him with that teasing smile again, the same one that always gets his heart beating fast.

"I'm your favorite knight, huh?" He throws a grape in your direction, the small fruit bouncing off your chest and landing between his feet.

"Not anymore if you keep antagonizing me," you joke as you go to throw another grape at him, but Marcus was quick enough to react and moved his head back to catch it in his mouth.

You throw him a thumbs up and he winks. The action was so charming. It was weird that it came from him. Again, not a bad weird. It was a good type of weird. It made you feel warm and fuzzy, and tingly. Although Marcus was much older and much more experienced, you can't ignore the undeniable attraction you have towards the man. A delusional part of you hoped that the feeling was mutual.

As the silence grew longer, Marcus took it upon himself to break it. "Well, since you gave me a confession that I am indeed your favorite knight, then I guess you deserve my confession that you are my favorite princess." His tone held something you couldn't add up. It was a mix of adoration and something possibly stronger. It had your cheeks and neck warming. The butterflies in your stomach went wild at his boyish grin.

"I'm your favorite princess?" You asked him quietly, too shy to look at him as you fiddled with the bowl of grapes. You couldn't embarrass yourself, not now, not like this. Maybe it was the loneliness and the possibility of never falling in love with the right man. But all fingers keep pointing to Knight Marcus Acacius.

"You are my favorite princess," he repeated more slowly and gently, bending his head to try and catch your eye. "And it's only ever going to be you, my princess."

It had been a full two months since the falling out between you and your father. Your dinners have now been delivered to your door rather than your father having Celeste escort you down to the dining hall. There was no complaint though. If anything, you preferred it that way. You've grown comfortable with being alone. Well, not entirely alone. After midnight, you and Marcus had fallen into a routine of him sneaking up onto the balcony and the two of you sharing stories of your past lives. Sometimes, he would bring a gift or two to surprise you.

A few days ago, you had mentioned that you wished you had red ink to go with your quills. That same night, Marcus had instructed you to hold out your hand and to shut your eyes. You were skeptical at first, assuming that he was going to play a joke on you.

"Do you trust me, my princess?" He had asked you softly, tipping your head up with his forefinger curled under your chin. You meet his eyes and almost feel hypnotized by the emotions swirling in them.

You nodded. "I trust you... with my life, Marcus Acacius."

Then, he laid a small item in the palm of your hand. You looked down and read the label, looking back up at him with a wide smile that made your eyes crinkle that your eyes disappeared. He was stunned when your body collided against his in a hug that felt like home. He hesitantly wrapped his arms around your body, one hand cupping the back of your neck to keep you pressed against him.

"Oh, Marcus," you had sighed softly and sniffled the tears away from the overwhelming feeling of finally being seen.

Tonight was a different adventure. Rather than Marcus climbing up, he instructed you to climb down. The idea was absurd, and you verbally expressed that when you stared down at his awaiting arms. It was at least a fifteen-foot drop without the rope. You couldn't risk breaking a bone because how else would you explain it to your father?

"Do you trust me, dove?" He hushed, staring up at you with those deep brown eyes of his that make it hard to say no.

You sighed to yourself and looked over your shoulder at the locked door of your bedroom. When you looked back down at him from over the balcony, you couldn't help but to smile at his eagerness.

"I trust you with my life, Marcus Acacius," you tell him earnestly. He smiles at that, his dimple deepening the wider his smile gets.

As you swing yourself over the edge, you make sure to fix your sleeping gown so as to not give him a sneak peek. Marcus never tried any advances on you. Although you wished he would at least touch your thigh or something, he always kept his hands to himself and was a respectful gentleman. The both of you would share intimate hugs and held hands on occasion, but that was it. There was an unspoken tension between the two of you. Whether the fear was your reputation as a princess, the arranged marriage, or the age gap between you and the knight. You were unsure of how to go about this. Whatever it was, you didn't want to ruin it. As of this moment, this routine, it was just two people spending time together and forming an intimate bond.

"There we go, darling girl," he tells you softly, his arms stretched up high to catch you if you fall. "Now, hold onto the rope with both hands and slowly lower yourself down." When you let out a small whimper, Marcus hushes you softly by saying, "I got you, darling. I got you."

Lowering yourself down to the ground was surprisingly easy work. It was harder for Marcus, most likely because he was twice your weight. Either way, you didn't embarrass yourself by falling on your backside and making a complete fool out of yourself in front of the man you have questionable feelings for. The two of you greet each other quietly and share a long hug. He had been unable to visit you for a few days, so this was your reunion back in each other's arms.

"I have a surprise for you, princess," he speaks quietly in your ear, the both of you swaying gently in each other's arms. "Are you up for adventure with your favorite knight?"

Pulling away from his chest, you rest your hands on his broad shoulders and look up at him. He spots the skepticism in your eyes, and he rolls his own jokingly.

"It's nothing extreme, I promise," he makes an X across his heart. "If it's something you are not interested in, then you say the word and I shall bring you back to your chambers safe and sound."

Marcus sounds sincere, and almost nervous. Curiosity got the best of you as you were eager to see what he had planned. When you give him a nod, he gives you one of his boyish grins and takes a hold of your hand and holds onto the lantern he had set aside to pull you into his arms. You follow him silently through the gardens, casting your balcony one last look before it disappears from view. It was another few minutes of walking until you realized what direction you two were heading in.

"Are we... going out to the lake?" You finally asked him, looking at the back of his head before peering around his shoulder. When the lake comes into view, you see a blanket laid out on the ground with another lantern resting atop it.

As you got closer, Marcus ushers you in front of him so you can get a better look of the layout. On the blanket was a plate of dried meats, cheeses, pieces of bread, and fruit; two chalices and a bottle of wine; and a single flower. You opened your mouth to speak, but no words were able to come out. Marcus had deemed you speechless, for the first time ever. It was usually always the other way around.

"Now," he gently pushed you closer with a hand on your hip. "I know how imprisoned you've felt in your chambers. And I know things have been hard for you for the past few months. I figured, maybe, you'd want a relaxing time away from your chambers. Now, this is, uh, not something of courtship, I promise you that." The sentence had you laughing quietly. "Think of this as, um, a friend helping out another... friend?" He sounded unsure, mentally kicking at himself for using those choice of words.

"Well... friend," you purposely drew out the word in a teasing manner to make him squirm. "This was definitely a surprise, and it's a beautiful surprise. Thank you, Marcus." He can hear your voice waver with emotion. "I cannot believe you went out of your way to do this for me."

"It's the least I can do for a princess like you," he spoke in a hushed tone, watching you closely as you bend down to lift the stem of the flower and sniff the petals.

Sliding off your slippers, you wiggled your feet in the plush grass, giggling to yourself at the texture between your toes. It had been so long since you felt grass under your bare feet. It was slightly moist from the fog that very slowly made its way across the hills and just barely kissed the lake. Standing at the edge of the lake, there was a moment of spontaneity that washed over you. Maybe it was a bold move or an act of rebellion. The more you stared out into the lake, the more desperate you were to feel the water on your naked skin. As you slid the straps of your nightgown down your shoulders, Marcus was quick to stop you from undressing any further.

"What... uh... What are you, um, doing?"

Why couldn't he form a coherent question? He sees the princess' bare shoulders and he suddenly feels like a virgin boy again. He forces himself to turn away with his hands on his hips when he hears the faint splash of you swimming further into the lake. When he hears your contented sighs, he finds himself turning without realizing. His arms dropped to his sides and his shoulders sagged from the forceful breath he exhaled due to the sight before him. You stood in the lake with the water just below your collarbones. Your hair was wet and slicked back when you dipped underneath to get used to the cold. With the droplets on your skin and the two lanterns creating more than enough light, Marcus would be convinced if you told him you were actually a nymph. Whatever it is that you would tell him, he would hang on to every word as though it would be the last time he would hear them.

"Come on, Knight Acacius!" You swim deeper into the lake, dipping back underneath and popping back up, blinking away the water and swiping a hand down your face to look at him with a sweet smile. "Don't leave me swimming all alone."

He knows it's a bad idea. This was definitely crossing an unspoken boundary of your whatever-your-relationship-was. Once that line was crossed, there was no going back. Marcus knew that. You knew that. Maybe you wanted for him to get in the water as an invitation. He didn't know. The two of you danced around the obvious for three months. Touches got longer and lingered the more time spent together. Goodbyes got harder after spending hours whispering secrets to one another in your bed – nothing ever got past innocent cuddling. But looking at you now, swimming about in your carefree spirit that he feels he lost so long ago, he can no longer ignore his attraction to you. Glancing off to the side in the direction you two came from, Marcus looked at you again and he can see the reassuring smile on your face, silently telling him that it's okay, it's just the two of you.

You watch as he reaches a hand behind his neck to pull off his tunic. Seeing his bare chest for the first time made you look away with a gasp. The lanterns made his skin look so golden and warm to the touch. There was more movement in your peripheral. Your brain screamed at you to not look, but your heart screamed even louder at you to take a little peek. So, you did. Lips parted on their own accord as Marcus slid off his bloomers. From the position with the way he bent over, you weren't able to see his lower half. But as he pulled his bloomers free from his legs and stood back up, you turned just in time to avoid seeing his exposed, private area. You wanted to give him the same respect he had given you when you had undressed in front of him. Whether he took a peek or not, you knew he was respectful about it.

With your back facing the field, you stared further down at the lake. With the moonlight bouncing off the gentle ripples of the water, it really did look like it was sparkling. It had you smiling in awe as your hands gently carded through the water. There was a distant splash from behind you, and then silence. You almost held your breath when you felt Marcus' presence getting closer and closer. It was nerve-wracking, and also almost exciting and taboo. Then, you felt it.

Two large hands gently grip your hips from behind. Your stomach muscles tightened at the feeling before your entire body relaxed. Slowly turning in his grip, a smile pulled at your lips. You and Marcus stood at least a foot from one another. The two of you stood with the water just below your collarbones. His hair was damp and slicked back, the ends looking a lot longer from the added wetness to them, but they still curled no matter how many times he ran a hand through them. Your hands started at his wrists, Then, they slowly slid up his forearms where you felt his arm hair. The coil in the pit of your stomach tightens as you've come to a realization that this was all happening, and it wasn't a dream. As your hands slide further up his strong, thick biceps and rest onto his broad shoulders, you couldn't mistake the sigh of content spilling from your lips for something else. You hoped it was quiet enough for Marcus to not hear, but the little grin on his face says otherwise.

Your hands slide up his neck, briefly brushing over his vein, and your thumbs can feel the hammering of his pulse. When they finally settled on his scruffy jaw, you were at a loss for words. Marcus can see your eyes on his lips. Experimentally, he licked at his bottom lip with barely a poke of his tongue before pulling it back between his teeth. Almost in a trance-like state, you do the same with your own bottom lip. Upon hearing his laugh, you broke out of the hypnotization he had you under and released your bottom lip from between your teeth.

"You are a foul man," you giggle at him, lightly pushing him away and splashing water in his direction. "In all seriousness, Marcus, it's nice seeing you like this."

"Wet, naked, and vulnerable?"

"No!" You laughed a little hard at his annoying answer, rolling your eyes and shaking your head at him as his smile grew wider. The two of you start swimming in slow, calm circles. "I mean, it's nice seeing you not so serious all the time. I like seeing you happy and... relaxed, to say the least."

"Are you sure it's not because I'm wet, naked, and vulnerable?" He teasingly asks, reaching underwater to poke at your stomach. You rolled your eyes at him again and leaned back to use your foot to nudge him away. "I know what you mean, dove. There are rare moments where I can unwind, but you've helped me in the process of doing so."

His answer piqued your interest. You stopped swimming in slow circles and looked over at him as he slowly bobbed up and down in the water. There's a ghost of a smile on Marcus' lips when you look at him with those wide, curious eyes. He clears his throat and looks away, hoping that pointing his attention on something else would help the words come out smoothly.

"The time I've spent with you, my princess, has been the most serene I have ever felt in my entire life of being your knight," he tells you in a low voice, afraid to speak any louder to where the moment is ruined by his gruffness. "With you, I am able to not worry about... anything. You make it quite easy to forget about my worries. I could be having the most troublesome day, but the second I look into those eyes of yours, it all disappears and I'm able to be Marcus with you and not Knight Acacius."

You carefully swim closer to where he stands. The emotion is heavy on his face, from the way his eyebrows are furrowed, and his eyes are darting back and forth as he tries to use the best words that he could think of in order to convey what he's feeling as to not confess too much too soon. Marcus shakes his head and laughs at himself.

"I'm making a fool out of myself, aren't I?"

Hushing him softly, you lean in close and tenderly wrap your arms around his shoulders to further pull him into your chest. Marcus' hooked nose lovingly caresses your jaw and then lowers down to your neck where he inhales deeply, your sweet scent filling his nostrils, further easing the anxiety that was threatening to burst. You card a hand at the back of his head, fingers gently tugging at his damp curls. He was polite enough to keep his hips a distance away from your own as his arms find a home around your waist.

"You are no more a fool than I, Marcus Acacius," you tell him so quietly, your voice cracking when you say his name. He lifts his head from its place in the crook of your neck. Eyes meet eyes, then forehead meets forehead. Noses brush against one another and his hands find your cheeks. You tenderly hold onto his wrists and shut your eyes, wishing there was a way to capture this moment.

Then, Marcus tells you in a tone that borders between heartache and awe, "I guess we are both foolish beings, my princess." And just like that, a lonesome tear rolls down your cheek, one that he lightly kisses away. His lips on your cheek left a warmth that you wished you could feel all over. But at this moment, right here with him, you will take all that he could give you.

"Princess." There was a knock on your door, followed by the latch unlocking. The door opens quietly, the unmistakable creak causing you to wince and bury your face deeper into your pillow with a groan. "The king requests your presence in his chambers." The blanket was yanked off your warm body, the cold, crisp air of your room causing you to shiver and groan even louder in your pillow. "Come on, princess. You know your father is an impatient man."

Celeste busies herself by picking out your morning gown and laying it on your bed by your curled legs. She does a once over at your body and then does a double take. When you hear nothing but silence, you remove the pillow from your face and look over your shoulder. She stands over you with a peculiar look on her face. Her wrinkled fingers gently pinch at the hem of the dark maroon tunic covering your body. It was a men's tunic, one that fell just above your knees.

"Oh, dear child," she tuts quietly, looking up at your eyes and shaking her head disapprovingly. "Please, do not tell me this belongs to you-know-who."

There was a moment of panic on your face. You leapt out of bed and made a mad dash to your bedroom door to slam it shut. Celeste still stands as stiff as a tree with her hands on her hips. Never has she ever looked so disappointed at you. It makes you want the ground to swallow you whole. Timidly striding across the room, you let out a tired sigh and sit on the edge of your bed, your fingers playing with the ends of the tunic.

"Nothing serious happened, Celeste," you speak under your breath.

She rests a hand on her head in distress, her eyes wide and worrisome. "Knight Marcus?!" She hissed. "Do you not know what would happen if your father ever found out about you two?"

"Celeste, there is nothing to even find out about," you pleaded with her, tears already brimming along your waterline. "We... We're just two people that formed a companionship after hours. That is all. Nothing more, nothing less." The words burned your tongue the second they left your mouth. "You need to believe me when I say this, Celeste. Please, I beg of you. Do not tell my father of this, please."

The older maidservant looks at you with pity, her pursed lips in a frown at the sound of your helplessness and fear of what could possibly happen if word were to spread throughout the castle. With another sigh, she takes a seat next to you on the bed. Her left hand grabs a hold of your right one, and you immediately rest your head upon her shoulder. She rests her chin on the crown of your head, sighing once more. The two of you sit in silence, listening to the faint laughter and commotion happening within the garden through the ajar windows in your room.

"Do you love him?"

The question caught your attention. Celeste's tone sounded melancholy, but you couldn't place a finger on it. You didn’t want her to take your silence as a definite answer. Truth be told, you don’t understand what it is that you feel. Were they platonic feelings? Romantic? Sexual? You do know that Marcus is three times your senior. He has a reputation to uphold as your father’s main knight. He has led the other knights into battle between the other kingdoms and always came back unscathed. Marcus Acacius was a frightening man to some and a dangerous man to others. But you never viewed him as either. He’s a passionate man with many ideals that he would hope to spread. Marcus has a sensitivity to him not a lot of men have, which is why he kept himself guarded as best as he could, only showing you the vulnerable parts of him knowing there will be no judgment. 

“This is a dangerous game you are playing, dear child,” Celeste tells you in a somber tone. “You do not know what you are asking for, nor do you understand what it’s like to love someone like that.” 

Pulling your head up from her shoulder, you rip your hand away from her gentle grip. With a fire in your eyes, you stand up before her, glaring down at the old maidservant with betrayal.

“Of all the people, Celeste, I thought you would be the one to understand me the most,” your voice breaks. "I may not be wise beyond my years, but I know what it is like to love someone. Now, I don't know what it is that I'm feeling. Maybe it's love. Maybe it's not. All I know is that I treat Marcus exactly like how he wants to be perceived. If that's wrong of me as his friend and as the king's daughter, then... damn you all!"

Shockingly enough, Celeste laughs. Not a small, polite chuckle she would give to a guest or to your father. But a full-bellied laugh that had her doubling over. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"Don't... Don't laugh at me! How dare you make a mockery of me!"

She only laughs harder, frantically waving her hands as she tries to catch her breath. Her face is flushed as she dabs her fingers under her eyes to wipe away the tears. Still standing in front of her, confused and offended, you cross your arms and look away from her with a shake of your head. Much to your surprise, you let out a small oof when she hugs you tightly. You stood frozen in her embrace. Arms still crossed between your bodies; you eyed the side of her head. But then, you heard it. Celeste was crying on your shoulder, tenderly stroking the back of your head. You hesitantly wrapped your arms around her waist, pressing yourself closer into her front. The woman held onto you tighter, one hand still stroking the back of your hair as her other arm crossed over your shoulder blades.

"Gods, you remind me so much of your mother," she lets out a watery laugh. "She was a spitfire, that one."

Stepping away from Celeste when her arms dropped down, she was quick to cup your cheeks in her cold hands. Her thumbs stroked the apples of your cheeks, smiling weakly when you won't meet her eye.

"Before your mother passed, she made me promise that I would take care of you and your brother," she tells you quietly, gently tipping your head up to look into her cloudy eyes. "I may not be your mother, but I will always love you like my own. Do you understand, princess?" You give her a jerky nod. "It is my duty as your caregiver to ensure that your happiness will never wander. And it is my duty as your mother's oldest friend to keep my promise." You open your mouth to question her, but she hushes you softly. "Whatever it is that you may feel for him, do not let it go, understood?" She gives you a pointed look that tells you to not disagree with her. As she sees the tiniest smile forming on your lips, she gives you a wink and informs you to get dressed in your gown.

There was a gentle knocking at the door.

"Celeste? Princess?"

The door creaks open and reveals just who you were talking about. Knight Marcus trudges inside, his lids heavy from exertion but they brighten the second they're laid on you. Celeste doesn't miss the way his shoulders sag and the soft smile that takes over his face. She also doesn't miss the way your own smile turns into one of affection, the confusion and anger on your face now washed away. She hums under her breath, quiet enough so only she could hear it. Marcus clears his throat and gives the older woman a polite nod. She squints.

"The king requests the princess' presence urgently," he tells you both. His eyes sweep up and down your appearance, silently wishing you two were alone so he could take you into his arms and obsess over your beauty and to feel your cheeks warming under his lips. There are a lot of things he wishes he could do with you without facing any consequences. He wishes the life you two share wasn't one of secrecy. His only hope is that you also think the same of him.

Celeste fussed with your hair and did a simple style with a small braid tied behind the rest of your hair that lays against your back. When she's about to pass Marcus, she eyes the both of you once more before leaving the room, most likely to give you two some privacy.

"Do you know what it is that my father wants to talk about?" The question comes out weak, the jitters never once settling as the dreadful questions and 'what if's' are never-ending.

Marcus shakes his head as his hand tights on the handle of his sword. "I'm not sure, princess. But I wouldn't worry much about it. He didn't seem... on edge." Giving him a nod at his answer, he could still tell that it didn't ease your nerves. It's been a while since you last faced your father. He steps forwards, just a hair away. "Dove, you have nothing to worry about, okay?"

The two of you walked in tandem to your father's chambers. As you turn down the long, stoned hallway, Marcus' hand barely brushes along the shape of your hip when you step in front of him. Glancing at him over your shoulder with a barely-there smile, his silent reassurance was something you didn't know you needed, and now you crave it more than ever. As you knocked on the door and entered upon hearing your father's voice, Marcus' hand laid on the handle of the door to pull it shut to leave you and your father alone.

"Uh, Marcus," the king raises a hand to stop the knight from shutting the door. "It is better for you to be here as well to hear what I have to say."

The moment was filled with panic for both you and the knight. With your father's back turned, you glanced over your shoulder at Marcus, your eyes wide and lips parted as your breathing grew frantic. He raised a hand just above his waist, subtly shaking his head, silently pleading with you not to panic. Had your father discovered what you and Marcus had been doing after hours? With Marcus defying your father's orders, you dreaded the punishment that might await you both. Despite never going beyond hugging and handholding, you and the knight continued to dance around the topic of your relationship, fearing that reality would ruin it.

The tension in the room is palpable. Marcus stands by the door, his silence a testament to his understanding of the king's authority. Your father, with his hands clasped behind his back, gazes out the window, the sunlight catching the glint of his rings. You follow him closely, waiting for his words, and cast another glance over your shoulder, feeling the weight of the moment.

The weight of his words hung in the air, filled with sorrow and regret. "Ever since your mother passed, I've felt like I've failed you, both as your father and as king. You remind me so much of her. She truly was an extraordinary woman," he said, his voice tinged with a sad, melancholic laugh.

It was unusual to see him in such a vulnerable state. Often, it was hard to understand his thoughts or emotions. He usually maintained a facade for the villagers around the kingdom. The only mask you had seen him wear was the one he donned after your mother's death. Listening to him talk about her felt almost therapeutic. Unsure of where the conversation was headed, you remained silent and let him continue.

The atmosphere was incredibly tense as he spoke, his words cutting through the air like a knife. "I understand that you believe yourself capable of being more than just a wife, perhaps even a queen. But it is quite selfish of you to ignore what this kingdom needs in terms of allies and protection," he said, turning to face you fully. Shocked, you couldn't help but scoff, the sound escaping your lips before you could stop it.

"Selfish?" you echoed, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and determination. "Explain to me how pursuing my own happiness is selfish, father. How is my desire to ride with the knights and fight for our people selfish? Go on, explain!" Your breath came in rapid, shallow bursts, but you no longer cared about the repercussions of your defiance. "Were you ever going to tell me that this isn't the life mother envisioned for me?"

The shock on his face was laughable.

"I beg your pardon!" His cheeks flushed with rage. "You don't know what you are talking about, child. You have no idea what your mother wanted for you, and you should not ponder it while you are in my care."

The laughter that bubbled out of your chest was uncontrollable. Marcus, standing by the door, watched the tense scene unfold. He knew better than to intervene or place himself between you and the king. However, as the king's expression grew increasingly stony, Marcus began to worry for your well-being, sensing that you were on the verge of crossing a line from which there would be no return.

Gazing at your father, any sympathy for his struggles vanished, as he remained tethered to his past. Marcus and Celeste offered no assistance, and now, neither could you. The king received no pity. If William were still here, he would undoubtedly strive to alter your father's views on your life choices. Sadly, in this moment, it felt like you were alone against the world. As stubborn as your father was, you now wished you weren't cut from the same cloth.

Now seething and unable to hide it, you stood closer until you were damn near toe-to-toe with your father. "In your care?" The question was spat in his face. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but hasn't Celeste been my caregiver since I was born? Hm? Wasn't it my mother that granted her full guardianship because she knew of the ideals you would bestow upon me, and she didn't agree?" Hearing about Celeste had your father shutting up instantly, and he looks away in shame. "Don't you dare try to act like a caring father, after all these years! When it comes to me being married off to a prince with no values, that is when you decided to step up." Lowering your head to try and catch his eye, he only turns away to point his back at you.

The weight of his words hung in the air as he gazed out the window, his voice barely above a whisper. "You do not know what this marriage could do for us, for the kingdom, and for our people," he said. "You are a princess, and I expected you to act as such."

Marcus lowers his head, his heart aching at the sound of your soft sniffles. He wishes he could cross the room, pull you into his arms, and take you far away from all this pain. He would do anything for you, if only you would ask.

"I know I am not like the other princess', father," you cried softly and hesitantly stepped over to the same window he looked out of, silently begging for him to look at you. But his jaw clenches and ticks, a telltale sign of agitation. You want to lay a hand on his forearm, but you'd rather not poke the bear. "I know I don't have the same ideals a woman such as myself may have, but what about me?"

When you don't get a response, you continue.

"What about what I want for the kingdom? Have you ever, for one second, thought about my own happiness instead of your own?"

The silence stretched on, heavy and unbroken. Neither of you uttered a word, except for your quiet sniffles as you struggled to hold back your tears. Marcus despised the look of desperation on your face. The anguish was unmistakable. It only worsened when you reached out to your father, and he stepped away as if a peasant had stepped on his shoes. When he looked at you, you could hardly recognize the man you once knew as your loving father. Now, he was in his kingly mindset and looked at you as though you were a problem.

The king continues to look down at you as if you were nothing more. "You do not want to marry a prince? That is perfectly fine with me," his voice was void of any emotion, making it impossible to decipher what lay hidden beneath. "There will be a carriage waiting for you tomorrow morning at sunrise. I am sending you to a convent where you will live the rest of your life as a nun. If you wish to rebel against me and ignore your duties as a princess, so be it. I will not be made a fool from your disobedience and disrespect."

"What?" Both you and Marcus exclaim, the shock of the situation melting into terror. Your heart races, and you can feel the panic rising within you. Marcus notices your distress from a distance and quickly comes to your side, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder. His presence is a small comfort, a reminder that you're not alone in this moment of fear.

The knight looks at the king. "Your majesty-"

"Enough, Marcus." The king gives him a pointed stare, raising his bushy, white eyebrows, silently telling the knight to not cross the line and make matters worse. "You will make sure she is gone by the time I have woken."

The tension in the air was discernible. You struggled to find the right words, but they seemed to vanish before you could speak of them. Beside you, Marcus was seething with anger, his frustration almost tangible. Among all the scenarios he had considered, the princess being sent away to a convent was the last thing you expected.

"You are making a grave mistake," Marcus tells him, his voice no longer quiet, but more authoritarian. "Sending her away is going to make matters worse for the kingdom. Please, think about what you are doing. You are going against Maryann's wishes. Think of the heartbreak you are going to bestow on Celeste."

The mention of Maryann, your mother, brought a flood of emotions you could no longer contain. You turned and buried your face in Marcus' chest, clutching the short sleeves of his tunic as you sobbed. It felt like you were submerged underwater, unable to hear the knight and the king's conversation. All you could perceive was Marcus' faint laugh echoing in your mind, Celeste's nurturing smile, and the warmth of Marcus' hands tracing the contours of your body. Those cherished moments are now lost, and you can no longer fulfill your mother's wishes as she had hoped before she passed.

Marcus whispers your father's name. They lock eyes, the silence only broken by your heart-wrenching sobs. Marcus feels a lump forming in his throat, his nostrils tingling and eyes stinging. He repeats your father's name, his voice trembling and barely audible.

"Please," he pleads for you. His arms tighten around your body, wishing you could crawl inside his ribcage and rest upon his beating heart that you have unknowingly called home. Each whimper you released was like a stab to his chest with a poisoned dagger.

The king's frown deepens as he witnesses you trembling like a leaf in the arms of his favored knight. He swallows thickly and turns away once more, unable to face the damage that has already been done.

"My decision is final, Knight Marcus. Now, escort the princess back to her chambers."

The tears had long since dried up, leaving you as a mere shell of your former self, numb and devoid of feeling. The future seemed bleak, both for you and the kingdom. The king's rash decision to send you away to a convent was perilous and reckless. Consumed by his own fury, he had likely set the stage for the kingdom's downfall. The thought of Celeste and Marcus being put in harm's way filled you with dread, as if claws were tearing at your heart. You couldn't bear to think about the consequences of your banishment, knowing it would shatter you all over again.

The sense of helplessness is overwhelming. Celeste's anguished cries in your father's chambers still echo in your mind, a stark reminder of the pain she's enduring. She always saw you as the daughter she never had, and now, with your banishment, her heart must be breaking. Your father's silence in the face of her fury was telling. He deserved every bit of her wrath after all these years of loyalty and care she has shown your family.

And Marcus, Oh, goodness. With a slow, unsteady hand, you grabbed at your chest as the pain in your heart intensified. Being able to grow close to each other the way you've been doing the past few months has felt like a fairytale straight from the stories Celeste would make up when you were just a child. In another world, he was your prince, and you were his princess. Meeting in secrecy wasn't ideal, but it was perfect. Getting to see him become his most vulnerable was one of the greatest accomplishments you've endured. The lingering touches and longing glances given to one another around company always made you ache. The burning heat in your lower half never once weakened around him. He had grown confident in his touches and the occasional kisses that would start at your jaw and trail down to your neck where he would feel the hammering of your pulse under his lips. Knight Marcus Acacius was a man. And now, he will be a man that you would never have.

Enough was enough. There would be no more wallowing, no more pondering over what could have been, and no more drowning in tears. You needed to act, and you needed to act fast. A brief moment of panic struck as you leapt out of bed and hurried around your room. Think, think, think. Cursing to yourself, you finally got to work. Grabbing one of your gowns, you turned it into a makeshift sack by cutting and tying the ends with the small dagger Marcus had given you long ago when you were becoming a young woman.

"A princess is never really a princess without her dagger," he had told you, carefully unsheathing it and showing you the sharp blade with your initials engraved right by the handle. "This was given to me when I was your age, and now I want you to have it. Under any situation where you feel the need to use it, think about me and I will be right there with you."

Oh, Marcus. Not a minute goes by where you're not thinking about the older knight. There would be no more flirtatious banter, no more whispered secrets, no more tender touches. It was now, at this moment, that you've come to a realization your feelings for him are too intense to ignore. Maybe it's because of the desperation you feel or the terrors you're going to face after sunrise. Either way, you can't shake the unmistakable feeling away.

The reflection in the mirror is unrecognizable. The once bright eyes are now dim, and the skin is dull and dry from countless tears. This woman feels like a stranger, and the thought of living as her is unbearable. The idea of being someone you're not, confined by false worship and seclusion, is suffocating. But then, a spark of realization ignites. Not all is lost. A plan forms: escape before sunrise and head north. Whether you go alone or not is up to you, but finding solace elsewhere is better than being imprisoned by faith.

Just as you were getting a head start, a small clack sound came from the balcony. When you turned around to face the wide-open doors leading outside, you saw no one. As you were about to shut them, an object on the ground that hadn't been there before caught your eye.

It was a stone, almost the size of your palm. As you inched closer, you saw a paper wrapped around the stone, securely tied with wool string. Curiosity got the best of you, and you leaned over the edge of the parapet, but saw no one. You had assumed it was Marcus, but when he wasn't standing on the stone bench, looking up at you with that charming smile of his, your worry began to grow.

You bent down to pick up the stone, carefully retreating back into your room as you gave another glance towards the outdoor darkness surrounding your balcony. Untying the string and finally unfolding the paper, a smile slowly formed on your lips. In messy penmanship, it read: Meet me at our spot.

The rope that has been used during your secret little adventures has been kept hidden underneath your bed. After tying one end of the rope around one of the pillars, you hoist yourself down exactly as you've done the many times you snuck away with Marcus' hands held tightly in your own. There was a rush of excitement and nostalgia upon remembering those times. It felt like yesterday you two were on your balcony alone for the first time, tossing grapes at his head and essentially calling him your favorite person and vice versa.

When you reached the ground and adjusted your gown, you noticed a small lantern sitting beside the bench. It was the typical gentleman thing for Marcus to do, not wanting you to travel in the dark. It was very telling of his character and who he is as a man and as a companion. With the lantern held at arm's length from your chest, you never realized just how terrifying it is traveling alone in the dark. If you were going to leave before sunrise, you would have to get over that fear and think like a Dame, not a princess. An owl hooted in the distance, causing your head to sharply turn towards the noise.

Upon reaching the lake, you gently swung the lantern around to cast a glow around the area. There was no blanket on the ground. There was no other lantern in sight. There was no Marcus. In a hushed voice, you called out to him. Crickets chirped in the bushes as another howl hooted close by. In another hushed voice, more frantic than the last, you called out to your knight. When you reach the looming tree, an arm reaches around and yanks your body back until it collides against a sturdy chest.

With a shriek, you drop the lantern and struggle against the arm around your waist and the hand covering your mouth. You kick at the man's shin and jab your elbow into his stomach, eliciting a grunt from him.

"It's me! Princess, it's me!" The man hisses.

"Marcus?!" You whisper-shouted, allowing him to press you against the tree and observing the wince on his face as he sits up the lantern - thankfully the fire hasn't dimmed from your frantic motions. "You are a foolish, foolish man!" Although you did hurt him, accidentally, that still didn't lessen the smile on the knight's face. Rolling your eyes, you swatted at his shoulder and leaned more comfortably against the tree.

With the low lighting of the lantern on the ground and the full moon glowing behind his head, Marcus looked like a dream come true - your dream come true. His thick curls almost form a halo atop his head, making him look more angelic and heavenly than the rugged fighter he claims to be. You weren't a religious woman, by all means. But if heaven looked like this, you wouldn't mind getting down on your knees and praying to the gods above, begging to be put in a heaven where Marcus will look like this for eternity. It almost brings a tear to your eye.

He looks down at you with an unreadable expression. Both of your smiles disappear and transform into something softer and more intimate. Your eyes take in his features carefully, heartbroken at the fact that tonight will be the last night you will be with him again. No man's brown eyes could compare to your Marcus'. No man's hooked nose could compare to your Marcus'. No man's smooth, timbered voice could compare to your Marcus'. At the realization that no man will ever be the same as your knight's, and that he has ruined everyone else for you, you let out a shuddering breath as the tears fall.

"Oh, Marcus," you wept quietly, reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck, allowing him to lower his upper body down to your height to make it more comfortable. His eyes shut as his own emotions take over. His own arms find their home around your waist. He clings onto you desperately, scared that if he were to let go, you'd suddenly fade away like mist right through his fingers. "This... This is all too much."

He hushes you softly, caressing a hand through your long hair, burning the feeling in the back of his mind of how soft and thick your hair was. His nose curves around the shape of your neck, smelling your sweet scent one last time and feeling your pulse against the tip. When you whimper from him pulling away, he eases your sorrows by using his curled forefinger to tip your head up in order to wipe away your tears of heartache. Neither of you speak, only gazing into each other's eyes lovingly.

"You are the most... beautiful woman I've ever known," he tells you quietly, silently begging for his voice to remain steady. "Your heart, mind, and soul are mesmerizing and addicting." Your lips parted at his words, your arms sliding down his shoulders to gently hold onto either side of your neck. He continues, "When I spend my time with you, it feels as though I'm floating through the clouds, and nothing can pull me back down to earth."

The intensity of the moment made you feel dizzy and lightheaded. Marcus' hands gently cradled your cheeks, and his warmth and masculine scent made your mouth water. You could see his lips moving, but the words were lost to you. Gazing back into his eyes, you pulled him closer. Marcus paused, his eyes flicking down to your parted lips before meeting your sorrowful gaze again.

There was palpable tension in the air as you whispered his name, your heart heavy with unspoken words. "Marcus… I…" you breathed out softly, your voice trembling. "I never told you… how… how much I…" The words caught in your throat, refusing to come out. You shook your head, the confession lingering on the tip of your tongue, frozen and waiting.

He takes that final step, your chests now pressed together, hearts pounding in unison. When Marcus lifts his hand to gently brush away some stray hairs from your face, you notice a slight tremble. You can't help but wonder if he's as nervous as you are, if his mind is racing with the same thoughts.

"Oh, my sweet darling," his voice trembling with emotion. His jaw tightens and relaxes, betraying the storm of feelings within him. The intensity of his gaze leaves no room for doubt—he understands your thoughts, your emotions, and the unspoken words hanging between you. He knows exactly what to do, even without uttering the forbidden words.

A surge of electricity shot through your entire body when Marcus' lips touched yours for the first time. You breathed in deeply through your nose and squeezed your eyes shut, your hands clinging desperately to his shoulders as he kept a steady grip on your face. The scruff of his beard scraped your upper lip and chin deliciously. This was what you had been waiting for, what you had been dreaming about for months, and now you finally had it, even if only for a short while until sunrise.

The two of you kissed like famished beasts. There was no holding back when it came to the knight. He kissed you as if your tongue was wine and he wanted to drink up the last few gulps. He kissed you as if he was drunk off of your taste and needed more, more, more. He couldn't stop. He didn't want to, now that he tasted you for the first time. His addiction to you worsened when your lips parted more to take his tongue into your awaiting mouth. The groan he releases had your entire body buzzing with heat.

With one hand gripping his curls at the nape of his neck and your other hand braced between his broad shoulder blades, you pulled away to take in big gulps of air as you forgot to remember to breathe. Marcus chased your lips immediately, his hands tightening on your face as he lips landed on yours again, and again, and again, until they were raw and swollen with passion. The whimper you elicit against him, the vibrations tingling on his mouth, drove him crazy.

This time, it was Marcus who pulled away.

He licks at his bottom lip, not wanting to waste any of your taste lingering on his eager tongue. Your breathing is heavy and desperate. Your lips tingle and buzz. The heat between you two intensified, no longer able to ignore as you two officially crossed that line that you cannot return from. He kisses you again, seemingly unable to go seconds without the feel of your lips on his and tongues intertwined.

The first kiss was everything you imagined it to be. You had expected it to be frantic, desperate, and consuming, and it was. It wasn't tender or gentle. He didn't kiss you like you were going to break apart. He kissed you like you were the oxygen he needed in order to breathe. Marcus was a trained fighter and killer. There has been blood drenched on his hands as others on the opposing side have died on the end of his sword.

After a few more minutes of nearly swallowing each other's tongue--maybe even an hour--Marcus pulled away for a moment to allow you a minute to regain composure and recollect yourself. The fogginess in your eyes fades away and you feel less like you're underwater. You can hear the faintness of crickets chirping again. There was a moment of embarrassment of losing yourself in the kiss, but you didn't care because Marcus also lost himself. He brushes away a small sheen of saliva at the corner of your lips with a sheepish, almost shy smile.

The moment slowly transformed when you held onto his forearm to keep his hand against your cheek. With eyes closed and lashes resting prettily on your cheeks, you kiss his palm so gently that he could barely feel it--just a tickle. Neither of you spoke. You didn't know what to say, and he didn't either, but that's okay. Everything that you wanted to say was expressed through your touches.

"Marcus," you whispered his name as your heart was about to leap out of your throat and land in the palm of his hand. He looks down at you with his beautiful, half-lidded, kiss-drunk eyes. You could no longer hold in your secret. "I'm leaving before sunrise."

His brows furrowed before they straightened. "I know you're leaving, sweet girl. Don't you mean at sunrise?"

Gently shaking your head, you release your embrace and lean back against the tree, gazing out over the lake. Marcus notices the struggle you're trying so hard to conceal on your face.

"No, my love," you tell him in a tearful voice. "I mean, I'm leaving before sunrise, getting through those gates, and heading north. I'm going to take myself far, far away from here and settle by the mountains."

Marcus can't hide the shock on his face. He takes a half step back, swipes a hand down his mouth, and distractedly rubs the back of his neck. Emotions swirl rapidly across his face. He doesn't know what to think or feel. An uncomfortable knot forms in the pit of his stomach, the kind he usually gets when something bad is about to happen.

"Absolutely not," the words come out of his mouth without holding back. He realizes his mistake when you jerk your head back and look at him with surprise.

"I beg your pardon, Knight Marcus?" Using his rank as his name was a way to distance yourself from him, to not let your emotions bubble over the surface in a way you'll regret. He sees right through your facade.

"Don't give me that 'Knight Marcus' shit like I'm going to buy it," he sternly tells you, making sure to point a finger down at the ground rather than disrespect you by pointing it in your face. Tensions were currently high, and he doesn't want to make matters worse by accidentally offending you. "You heard what I said, and I'll say it again, slowly. Absolutely. Not."

The silence between you felt almost tangible. You had seen him address the other knights in this manner when they faltered in their training or when a guest made a disrespectful comment about the kingdom. He had a knack for putting people in their place, but you never imagined it would be you on the receiving end.

Marcus took your silence as an opportunity to express his anxious thoughts. He hesitantly cupped your cheeks in his large hands, which easily dwarfed your face. Your eyes fluttered shut at the calloused warmth. He gently tipped your head up with both thumbs placed under your jaw. "Look at me. Please, open your eyes and look at me." He breathed out a sigh of relief when you did just that.

The wavering in his voice was unmistakable as he warned, "Do you know what would happen if the king ever found out that you went off north? Hm? He would find a way to get you back, or worse--kill you." The last part is spoken with such strain, as if uttering it might make it a reality. The horrifying image of your public execution flashes in your mind: your delicate body hanging from a rope, wrists bound behind your back, or your head placed on a wooden block, awaiting the fatal blow of an axe.

You knew there was a possibility of that happening. Your father was an ignorant man, but he was a dangerously intelligent one. Ignorance, the root and stem of all evil.

Your hands slowly slide up his forearms until you're holding onto his wrists, your thumbs tracing the dark hair and veins. Despite his firm grip, you try to shake your head, but he tuts softly, mirroring your motion. As he begins to speak, urging you to stop ignoring the possibilities, you gently place your fingers over his mouth, silencing him with a tender smile and a soft stroke of his jaw.

"My love," whispering to him and doing your best to remember his facial features. "I would rather die by the hands of my father than live a life that I do not want." Marcus' eyes shut tight, and he knocks his forehead on yours, sniffling quietly to keep his tears at bay. "Oh, my dear knight. I wish for a life where I wake up beside you in the mornings and fall asleep beside you at night. I wish for a life where you can kiss me in front of guests and twirl me around in my extravagant gowns." Marcus lets out a watery chuckle and allows his tears to fall onto your cheeks. "I wish for a life where I can fight alongside you to keep our kingdom safe from the enemies that lurk outside these walls. Whatever it is that I wish for, although they may never come true, I need you to know that you will always be a part of them, for you are the greatest wish of them all."

His trembling lips meet yours once more. His breathing is unsteady, punctuated by sniffling. The warmth of his thick tears mingles with your own on your cheeks. Fates of two, entwined. The two of you pull away, snapping the thin string of saliva that stays on your kiss-bitten lips. When your eyes open, you find yourself peering into his own. The confession was stuck on your tongue. You couldn't tell how you really felt. Leaving him with such a goodbye and further breaking his heart would do you both no good, so you thought.

"I, um... I should head back to my chambers, Knight Acacius," you softly tell him, hoping he can hear the teasing lilt in your voice as you speak his title. The barely-there grin on his lips showed that he did catch on to your teasing--just like old times.

"Foolish girl," he whispers, the smile never once fading as his eyes take in the rest of your features, permanently engraving your beauty in his mind to come back to.

"Foolish man," you whisper back, using one hand to brush his curls from his forehead, slowly sliding your hand down the back of his head, down to his neck, and finally curling your fingers through the curls that rest there.

Hand in hand, Marcus leads you both back to your balcony. The rope hangs limp, still tied around the pillar. You stand there for a few seconds, just looking up at your balcony and remembering all of the private conversations and shy touches you and your knight have shared. Turning in your spot, never once letting go of his hand, you kiss his frown away. His other hand cups your cheek again, your jaw now familiar against his palm. Pulling away one last time, you wipe at the stray tear on his cheek.

"Goodbye, Marcus Acacius," you whisper brokenly.

The moment is heavy with unspoken words as he whispers a goodbye, his hand lingering in yours until the distance pulls you apart. You watch his broad form retreat, his hand lifting to his face, likely to wipe away tears. As he disappears around the castle, a sense of finality settles in. Glancing up at the balcony, you do what you've done for the past few months. Climbing up the rope for one last time and steadying yourself onto the parapet, it was bittersweet.

As you stand in the room you grew up in, thinking of all the memories shared in here, there was a small set of knocks on the door. You pause, heart racing, as the knock echoes through the room once more. Who could it be at this hour? You quickly glance around, ensuring everything is in place. The makeshift sack is secure, the rope is still tied and ready for your departure, and your mind races with possibilities. Taking a deep breath, you move towards the door, each step filled with anticipation. As you reach for the handle, you can't help but wonder if this unexpected visitor will alter the course of your journey.

With your hand on the handle, you do an experimental tug. Surprisingly enough, it was unlocked. It wasn't unlocked before you snuck out to meet with Marcus. You pull the door open wider and wider, wincing at the obnoxious creaking and hoping it doesn't wake your father. As you finally pull it open, your mouth drops, and your eyes widen at the man that stands before you.

"What..." You had no time to finish your sentence before Marcus is charging inside, his large hands grabbing your face and kissing you as ferociously as the first time. He kicks the door shut with his boot and shoves his body deeper into the room, your feet desperately trying to keep up with his long strides.

Marcus forces himself to pull away from your lips. There's a metaphorically magnetic force that keeps pulling him back. He stands before you, skin flushed and hair wild. His breathing was fast and heavy. "I just..." He tries to explain himself. "I just... I needed to see you one last time. I needed to... to say goodbye... just one last time, my princess."

The intensity of the moment is blinding. Desperation and longing fill the air as you lock eyes with him, unable to resist the magnetic pull. His gaze, filled with an unfamiliar hunger, grows more intense with each passing second. The tension is almost tangible, and you've made your decision. With a firm grip on his neck, you draw him closer for another passionate kiss.

One kiss turns into two. Two turns into five. Five turns into hands grabbing at clothes and sneaking underneath to grasp at naked flesh. What happens afterwards is a memorable blur. You only wished you could have yourself a private artist to paint yours and Marcus' naked bodies in acts of pleasure. You would've hung it up proudly in the dining hall above your designated throne.

The haziness of sleep enveloped you as you shifted, feeling the comforting weight around your waist and the solid presence of a broad body behind you. His strong chest pressed gently against your back. Blinking away the remnants of sleep, you snuggled closer to Marcus, seeking the warmth radiating from his naked body. He was like a furnace, a quality you found endearing. Glancing over your shoulder, you noticed the sky had turned a deep blue—your favorite "blue hour." It wasn't sunrise yet, so you still had time to savor this peaceful moment.

Marcus shifts behind you with a hoarse groan. His arm tightens around your waist, a gentle reminder that he wants you close. As you roll over to face him, the tranquility of the moment envelops you both. The room is peaceful and quiet, with Marcus' half-lidded, puffy eyes reflecting the intensity of the night before. You can only imagine that you look just as marked by the shared experience.

"You look so beautiful," his voice low enough to almost sound like a hum. It slowly brings a smile to your kissed lips. Laying almost nose to nose, you let out a small sigh as the heartache returns after the momentary distraction. "I know, my darling."

His thumb brushes across the apple of your cheek before gently gripping your chin to place a lazy kiss on your lips. Marcus Acacius was intoxicating. After just a taste, you found yourself craving more, longing to quench your thirst for him. The breeze gently blowing through the sheer curtains had you shivering. Marcus glides a hand up and down your arm, further warming you with his natural body heat.

"Wherever you may end up, my darling, be sure to write to me every once in a while, yeah? And let me know where you stay so that I can visit you whenever I can," Marcus' words, spoken softly, carried a promise of connection despite the distance. His eagerness to stay in touch after your secret departure sent butterflies fluttering in your stomach. The thought of your relationship possibly growing in the future filled you with excitement and hope.

The confession was pursed on your lips, words ready to be spoken. Marcus could see it on your face, the light in your eyes brightening along with your smile.

A boisterous horn suddenly blew from the outer walls of the castle, followed by another, and another. Marcus sat up with lightning speed, the sheets pooling around his waist. Faint shouting echoed from the halls and outside the castle. Both of you jumped out of bed, sheets wrapped around your bodies, and ran to the balcony to see what was happening. Behind you, Marcus hurriedly dressed, his hair a mess and his clothes wrinkled.

"Marcus, what is going on?" Worriedly asking him and rushing over with furrowed brows. You redress into your gown, watching with wide eyes as the knight makes a mad dash to the balcony once again, cursing under his breath as he sees smoke rising from beyond the trees by the main gate.

The urgency in his voice was unmistakable. "The castle has been infiltrated. We need to go. Now!" he barked, though you knew he didn't mean to be harsh. The blaring horns and escalating shouts only fueled your rising panic, making it harder to stay calm.

As Marcus led you through the chaos, the clamor of the knights' armor and the echo of their hurried footsteps filled the halls, creating a symphony of urgency. You clung to Marcus, feeling the strength and determination in his grip. His protective stance gave you a sense of safety amidst the turmoil, as you both navigated the perilous path ahead.

One of the novice knights spotted you both and hurried over, his close helm lifted slightly above his head to speak clearly. His skin was flushed and sweaty.

The urgency in the young knight's voice was evident. "Knight Acacius! Princess!" he called out, his breath quick and eyes wide with alarm. "The Prince of Ivanard and his army have breached the walls! We must act swiftly!"

Marcus's panicked expression morphs into something far more sinister. His jaw clenches, and a vein in his neck bulges noticeably. He gives the young knight a stern nod before dragging you up the stone spiral steps to the chambers where the other knights sleep. The shouting outside grows louder, and your head darts back and forth, trying to catch a glimpse through the stone windows. Marcus pulls your arm harder, nearly wrenching it from its socket as he slams his shoulder into the door of his chambers.

"You said you wanted to become a Dame ever since you were a child, yes?" He hurriedly asks you as he slides on his armor with urgency. He's throwing a number of clothing items over his shoulder, metal clanging against metal and glass breaking onto the ground. He shoots you an impatient look as he hurries over to his closet.

"Yes, ever since I was a child," you reply, trying to keep your voice steady despite the chaos around you. He nods, his eyes filled with determination as he continues to prepare. "Then let's make sure you get that chance," he says, his tone resolute.

He slides out a rather large chest. It creaks open, revealing a set of armor that mirrors his own, but in a size that fits you perfectly. As he hands it to you, your heart races with a mix of surprise and anticipation. This armor, crafted with care, is meant for you.

"Marcus," you shakily began to speak but the words died on your tongue, fingers sliding over the piece of metal. Attached inside the body armor was a byrnie, with interlocking iron rings. The small-looped chains drooped to cover any open areas. The intricate detailing of the metal molding had you staring in awe for a split second before you remembered the probable battle happening around you.

Looking back up at him, Marcus gives you a singular nod and reaches an arm out to you. Glancing down at what was being held in his hand, tears pricked at your eyes upon seeing it was William's sword. Your father had taken it from you prior to locking you in your room. His focus remains unwavering as he watches you slide on the armor over your gown. You must've looked like a fool, but Marcus looked at you with a proud glint in his eye, though his face doesn't show it. It was difficult to snap back from Knight Acacius to your Marcus during a time like this.

Holding the sword firmly, you feel its weight settle in your palm. You glance at Marcus with a look that speaks volumes. He recognizes that look—the same one you had before the blaring horns interrupted you both. He knows you want to express your gratitude for everything he's done for you and your family, even though you've always considered him part of the family.

There was an intensity that was hard to ignore as he steps closer, his gloved hand gently caressing your cheek before pulling you into a passionate kiss. The kiss conveys all the emotions he has been holding back. As you both pull away, breathless, Marcus places a tender kiss on your forehead and whispers, "You can tell me after we have won the battle."

With that whispered promise, you give him a determined nod and slide on your dirtied boots, which he also snagged from your father. As you both rush out, darting down the steps, turning corners, and navigating the exhaustingly long hallways, you think about Celeste for a split second. As if she could read your mind, she turns the corner and nearly crashes into you.

"Oh, my dear child!" She cried out helplessly, looking back and forth between you and Marcus, her hair disheveled and tear tracks staining her cheeks. You see her face change as she notices the armor adorning your body and William's sword in your hand with your other hand tightly clasped in Marcus'.

The silent understanding was evident in the way her lips parted and her eyes subtly widened. She cupped your cheek with a wrinkled, shaky hand, then looked at Marcus, giving him a nod before doing the same to you.

"You come back to me; do you understand?" The tremor in her voice was unmistakable. Celeste had always been a strong woman. She never once allowed anyone to see her break down. At a time like this, seeing you, the closest thing she has to a daughter, fully dressed in the armor you dreamt of wearing when you were a child at knee-height, made her feel like the proudest mother ever.

Holding onto her forearm, you give her a hasty kiss on the cheek before being hurried away by Marcus. You hadn't thought to ask Celeste about the whereabouts of your father. Considering she was all alone and running around like a chicken with its head chopped off, you assumed your father was hiding like the coward that he was.

"Once we step outside, you follow my lead. Is that understood?" Marcus's command echoes in your ears. With a firm grip on your sword, you mirror his readiness. His reassuring glance and the gentle release of your hand signal the gravity of the moment. Stepping onto the castle grounds, you exchange a final, resolute nod. Together, you advance towards the main gates, where Marcus' knights stand vigilant, their swords and shields at the ready.

The Prince of Ivanard stood opposite your kingdom's knights, exuding arrogance. His smug expression was infuriating. You gripped your sword tighter, remaining steadfast beside Marcus, who straightened his back and took his place in front of his own knights. There was a tense stare down between the two men.

"You have no business here," Marcus declared sternly, his voice resonating loudly and clearly to ensure that everyone nearby and at a distance could hear. "Do not begin what you cannot end, Prince of Ivanard."

The prince's expression contorted as his title was uttered with disdain. The urge to laugh bubbled within you, but you suppressed it, rising to stand tall, fixing a steely gaze on the man destined to be your spouse. Noticing your stance beside Marcus, the prince approached, flanked by his knights, his fingers wrapped firmly around the hilt of his sword.

"Oh, but my business is here, Knight Acacius," he sneered, uttering Marcus' title with the same disdain he had shown him, yet Marcus barely reacted. "I have journeyed far for the princess to become my wife, and I shall not depart without her. Although, it seems like I am looking at a little girl playing dress-up instead."

Stepping forward, you positioned yourself before Marcus. He made a slight move to halt you but restrained himself, remaining behind. This moment was yours, the one you had been anticipating. You faced the prince without a trace of fear.

"As the princess and heiress of this kingdom, it is my duty to announce that you are not welcome here, Prince of Ivanard," you spoke loudly and clearly, silently applauding yourself for keeping your voice steady and stern. "Like Knight Acacius has previously stated, do not start something you cannot finish."

The atmosphere was charged with tension. Neither of you spoke. You and the prince exchanged silent stares, his body practically radiating anger. Despite the thick swallow you forced down your throat, your eyes remained fixed on him. A movement caught your attention from the corner of your eye. The familiar scent told you it was Marcus. In a moment like this, his presence was everything you needed.

"Come with me now, and I won't take any drastic measures. Or continue this little charade and face the consequences," the prince says with a nonchalant shrug. "I advise you to make a wise decision, princess," he adds, elongating the title in a way that causes you to frown.

Taking a steady breath, you turn to look at Marcus and find him already watching you. He has been observing you the whole time. He sees the turmoil in your eyes and the hesitation in your gaze. In a hushed tone, he reminds you, "Remember your promise."

That was enough to light a match under you. Giving him one last determined nod, you faced the arrogant prince once more. "Prince of Ivanard," you announced loudly. "You are nothing more than a fat-kidneyed, crooked-nosed fool." Some of the knights on your side chuckled underneath their breaths, and even Marcus did too. The prince's facial expression grew red with fury. "Now, I advise you to put up a good fight rather than pretend your cock is bigger than most."

A prolonged silence ensues. The prince lets out a chuckle, devoid of any real mirth, as he nods to himself. His grip on his sword's handle tightens before he draws it from its scabbard. Lifting a hand into the air, he locks eyes with you, his gaze piercing through you rather than merely meeting your eyes. Abruptly, the unmistakable sound of metal-on-metal rings out as all the knights, both allies and adversaries, draw their swords in unison.

The prince offers an emotionless smile. "May God rest your soul," he declares. Then, with a swift motion of his hand, he signals the commencement of the battle.

Battle cries echo from both sides, including you and Marcus. As allies and enemies clash, Marcus disappears into the throng. You raise your sword overhead and bring it down forcefully across the chest of an adversary knight. He emits a guttural squelch and collapses into a bloody heap on the ground. It feels as if everything around you is moving in slow motion. The only sound you can hear is the heavy, rapid thumping of your heart resonating in your ears. Your limbs ache from the effort as you push through the throng of people.

Swords clash against each other, against armor, and against flesh and bone. The battlefield echoes with the roars of men and the cries of agony as lives are lost. Marcus is known as a formidable warrior; his reputation as Knight Marcus precedes him. There is no doubt in your mind that he will emerge victorious.

Battling through the opposing knights, you weave and dodge until at last, you spot him: the Prince of Ivanard. With a swift motion, he cleaves through the abdomen of one of your knights, then kicks the fallen warrior away to free his sword. The knight's blood stains the sharpened blade, darkening under the glint of the rising sun.

He gazes down at the mangled body, a grin spreading across his face. Sensing a presence, he looks up to find you there, breaths coming heavy and wild, the sword in your hand trembling from the strain of fatigue. As your eyes lock, an unspoken understanding passes between you; you both know what must happen next.

With a battle cry, you charge at each other, swords clashing. Emitting a grunt like a wild beast, you push him back forcefully and swing your sword to the left—he parries. A swift slash from left to right catches him by surprise, and for a moment, as the blade arcs toward his face, he's off guard. He jerks his head back just in time, but not before the blade grazes his cheek.

"You are no more a man than I am," you say to him, your voice quivering with adrenaline and sheer fury. "You are a fool, and I would be an even greater fool to marry someone like you."

With a roar of anger, the prince raises his sword and charges towards you. You swiftly dodge to the side, rising to your feet with your sword gripped firmly in both hands. A glance at William's initials engraved on the blade fills you with a wave of determination to honor his legacy and become the warrior he believed you could be.

The battle with the prince is fierce and draining. Your muscles scream for relief, and sweat stings your eyes as it drips down your forehead. Thoughts of Knight Acacius, your Marcus, flash through your mind. In the distance, you can just make out his voice, yelling commands and fighting with unparalleled vigor, knowing his strength comes partly because you are in the fray as well.

Suddenly, as your attention falters for a mere half-second, your sword is knocked from your grasp. You gasp, watching in a trance-like slow motion as it arcs through the air and lands yards away on the blood-soaked, dirt-strewn ground. Turning back to face the prince, a searing pain blazes across your abdomen, eliciting a piercing scream of agony.

With wide, unfocused eyes and an open mouth, your hands clutched the prince's shoulders. Your bloodied fingers slid down the metal, soon grasping his forearms, tense as he thrust the sword deeper into your abdomen, undoubtedly driving the end through you. Emitting another agonizing wail, you glanced down at the gruesome sight.

Your blood, dark and viscous, spills forth, tainting the prince's hands and your soiled dress. The agony is beyond comprehension, leading you to ponder if William experienced this torment before his demise. As you attempt to utter a word, the metallic taste of blood fills your mouth. The prince shows no remorse; instead, his expression reveals a disturbing satisfaction in your suffering. With each turn of the handle, a grotesque sound escapes, and you find yourself beyond the point of vocalizing your anguish.

He leans in close, his breath acrid, almost making you gag—if not for the blood trickling down the corners of your mouth. "You were fated to be my wife," he hisses. "And now, you will meet the same fate as your dear brother, at the hands of my father."

With a feeble, blood-stained smile and your body gradually succumbing to unconsciousness, you teeter on the brink of collapse. As you draw near to the prince, the sword lodged in your abdomen sends waves of searing pain through you. Each cough is a wet, gurgling effort, spattering clumps of blood onto the prince's chest plate.

Gazing into his eyes, your weak smile vanished as you told him in a faint voice, “You’re a coward… and history will forget you.”

The look of contentment on his face shifted to a grim shadow. His forehead creased, and the smile he wore flattened into a grim line. Emitting a guttural growl, he thrusts you back, wrenching his blade, now smeared with your blood, from your midsection. You collapse, the sensation of pain fading into a distant echo. Numbness overtakes you, your senses dulling as your heartbeat echoes, slower and slower.

"Tell William my father sends his greetings," the prince commands, hoisting his sword aloft as blood trickles onto his armor. Through half-closed eyes, you glimpse the blade's gleam, your own heartbeat resounding in your ears. Thoughts of Celeste, William, Marcus, and your mother flicker through your mind in mere seconds. With closed eyes, you resign yourself to your destiny.

Suddenly, a sound like the crunching of bone filled the air. Breathing shallowly, you clear the fog from your vision and look up. The prince hadn't brought his sword down on you as he intended. Instead, a sight unfolded that you wished to etch into memory forever. A sword had been thrust through the prince's chest from behind, piercing his armor with such force that it passed clean through. His eyes were wide in disbelief, and his throat worked spasmodically, spewing thick gouts of blood that darkened his ginger beard to a deep crimson.

A deep, wild scream erupted from behind the prince. Suddenly, his body was hoisted into the air, the sword still impaled through him. His body rose higher and higher until the figure on the sword's other end came into view. The armor was unmistakable. Marcus' arms, now exposed without the protection of his armor, swelled and trembled from exertion and adrenaline. He unleashed another roar, a battle cry of pure fury. His expression was unrecognizable; he was no longer the Marcus you knew. This was Knight Acacius, the fearsome warrior known for his savage prowess in battle and his unwavering leadership in protecting his people. The prince's twisted, lifeless form was now suspended above Marcus' head as he continued to scream, his body almost quivering with the rush of adrenaline.

"Deliver a message to William," he snarls, his voice thick with fury, "Knight Acacius sends his regards." With a forceful motion, he casts the prince's body aside, the sword remaining impaled within.

A sudden rush of emotions swept over Marcus' face. It was evident in the way he gazed down, shaking off his persona as Knight Acacius. His lips moved frantically, yet their words were nearly lost beneath the pounding of your heart. Collapsing to his knees, his hands trembled violently as he placed a gentle hand upon your abdomen. Though he knew no aid could be rendered, the helplessness he offered supplanted the anger with profound heartache.

"No, no, no, no," he wailed, his face contorting as he failed to hold back his cries of despair. He shakily cradled your cheek, now ice-cold against the warmth of his blood-flecked palm. "Oh, my sweet princess. No, no, no."

"Mar…" you struggled to speak, the blood in your throat surfacing repeatedly despite your efforts to swallow it. Breathing became increasingly difficult; each inhale exacerbated the bleeding, soaking Marcus's hand further. "I… I'm…"

He silences you softly, stifling his tears as your breaths become shallower and your limbs grow feeble. He observes your hand dragging across the ground towards him. With a sorrowful heart, he reveals your injury, averting his gaze as he tenderly takes your hand and presses it against his cheek. Your lips quiver into a faint smile. The ongoing battle fades into obscurity; in this moment, there is only you and Marcus.

A lonesome tear trails down your temple. Marcus tenderly wipes it away, maintaining eye contact with your half-closed eyes. He recognizes your effort to stay awake for him. With one hand still cradling your limp hand to his cheek and his other cupping your own cheek, he exhales a shaky breath, the ache in his heart intensifying with each torturous second.

As he gazes down, observing your eyes roam over his features as they always did, he reflects on every shared moment from the past few months. He realized he loved you from the start. Yet, he never found the right moment to declare it. Now, Marcus is burdened with the regret of his silence, only breaking it as you lie before him, on the brink of your end.

"I…" His voice falters as he begins to speak. "I am a foolish man, my princess. I should have told you… how much… how deeply I…" Tears hinder his words, the floodgates of his emotions opening as he watches the light of life dim in your eyes.

The realization that you will no longer be together brings more tears to your eyes. You long to cry out to him, but the fear that your wails would force blood from your mouth, leaving a haunting image for him, holds you back. You do not wish for that to be the last memory Marcus has of you before your agonizing death.

"Come," you whisper hoarsely through the gurgling of your blood. You must tell him before the darkness engulfs you forever. You must tell him before he is left to roam the earth aimlessly without you.

Marcus gently lowers his head and turns until your lips graze his ear. The rattling sound of your breath causes him to close his eyes, his lips pressing a kiss to your wrist against his jaw. He listens intently, deciphering your hushed whispers, understanding at last what you're attempting to convey.

"Love…" you whispered in agony, your lips quivering against his ear as you coughed, inadvertently staining his golden skin with your blood—a skin you would no longer caress with your fingertips or savor with your tongue.

Marcus feels his heart almost cease to beat when he hears the single word that escapes your lips. Your last word, a confession of your feelings for him, irrevocably breaks his heart. He realizes he will never whisper those words against your skin as you both lie beneath the moon's glow, lost in bliss. Nor will he utter them against your lips in a kiss, as if you were the finest wine ever tasted. And he could never whisper them to another, for no one could ever evoke the emotions you stirred in him.

Marcus looks down at you, his expression shattered, knowing it's the last thing you'll see before darkness engulfs you in its icy hold. He kisses you, the blood from your lips staining his. He kisses you one final time, aware that the moment he pulls away, you'll slip into the void.

Finally, he forces himself to break away from your lips. With one last gaze into your eyes, he whispers tenderly, "Now I must remember you for longer than I have known you." Upon hearing his final confession, your vision blurs, speckled with black dots. The roughness of his scruff under your palm fades away. You no longer feel the wound or the blood seeping out, soaking the earth beneath you.

And as your eyes close for the final time, Marcus' anguished scream is the last sound you hear before slipping deeper into the embrace of death.

[wanderingxiao]

-Claiming-

NSFW, 18+ only Plz~

Summary: a few vendors are at Wangshu Inn hoping to sell their goods. You decide to go down and have a look. Xiao is quietly watching you atop his spot at Wangshu Inn. A foreign feeling comes to his chest seeing another man touch you. What is this feeling?

Pairing: Xiao x Female Reader

Warning: jealous/possessive Xiao, lots of lewd biting, little bit of blood, unprotected sex, and some swearing. (This is like… so much smut w/ fluff)

Word Count: 6K (again, how tf is it so long?!)

Enjoy~

Sharp inhuman ears could hear the sounds of your beautiful and pure laughter from afar. It put the yaksha’s stony heart at ease knowing that you were safe and sound, but it also gripped it like a vice whenever he found out that another man was the cause of your laughter. His perch on Wangshu Inn gave him a perfect view down below, where you were talking to a rather tall man about some of the items he was selling in his booth. Your smile was directed towards him, his hands coming slightly behind your back to urge you to look closer at the items he had to offer. Your smile had only faltered in the slightest, your discomfort clear from your body language. The yaksha did not take too kindly to this gesture. He began to feel a foreign feeling bubble in his chest, it was a feeling he did not appreciate and did not know how to get rid of. He teleported down to the venue area of Wangshu Inn, quickly approaching you and the vendor.

“Hey.” Xiao was quick to approach you and the mysterious man, his yellow slitted eyes glaring harshly at the hand that was on your shoulder. You turned to give a soft smile to Xiao, moving slightly in order to get the man’s hand off you.  “Oh, Xiao! I wasn’t expecting to see you down here, what a pleasant surprise. Please excuse me, sir.” You stepped out of the man’s booth and came beside your lover, your soft hands cupping his cheek to place a gentle kiss on his smooth skin. His cheeks blossomed into a light pink, averting his gaze quickly from you to the plains of Liyue, his expression clearly flustered. “What are you doing down here? I thought you didn’t like human gatherings?” You had caught on quick to his out of character behavior and shot him a slightly worried look. His cheeks only became redder as you stared at him, awaiting an answer. “D-Don’t you humans know it’s rude to stare? I’m fine.”

“If you say so… Oh! Excuse me, sir!” He watched in disappointment as you flagged the man from the booth and resumed your merry conversation with him, now a bit more cautious about his overly friendly behavior. Your smile was absolutely radiant. He thought he would go blind if he continued to look at it, not that he minded be blinded by you anyways. His honey-amber eyes gazed quietly as you picked out some nice-looking fans, the paper folded and creased with expertly ease. The paint flawless. You pulled your wallet pouch out and started counting your mora. “Oh, it’s okay darlin’, just take them. It’s on me.” Xiao didn’t miss the way he slipped that little pet name so casually. Something you usually give between lovers. Or so he had heard. “Oh, are you sure? These fans are beautiful and very well crafted. I want to pay you for your work.” The man shook his head and patted your shoulder, only furthering the adeptus’ protectiveness. “It’s the least I could do for such a kind and beautiful woman.”

“Let’s go.” Xiao demanded, glaring at you as if to tell you he had had enough your social interaction with the vendor. You turned to him holding the two fans you got from the man and then looked around at the other booths. “Oh, you can go back up without me, I was going to go look at some more booths. I promise I’ll call your name if something goes wrong.” His eyes narrowed further towards you, a silent warning telling you that he wasn’t asking you, he was telling you to go with him. You were a bit puzzled by his sudden demanding behavior, but figured something must be wrong, so you bid the man a farewell and thanked him once more before going to Xiao with a soft sigh. “Okay, let’s go.” Without another word, he wrapped a strong arm around your waist, and teleported you both to his room at the inn that he only just started using because of you. Once arrived, you stepped out of his grasp and came in front of him. “Xiao? Is something the matter? You seem a bit off…”

“That guy. He was getting too close.” His answer struck you into silence, pretty much stunning you into place at the sheer realization that Xiao had gotten a bit jealous seeing the guy being so kind to you. You stifled a small giggle in front him, quickly stopping once you saw his serious face. “What is so humorous? Did I say something wrong?” You shook your head and gave him a small smile before running a hand through his hair slightly, making a blush creep up the yaksha’s pale features. Human affection was still so foreign to him, but you made everything feel so natural and easy for him. You certainly were bad for him. He might find himself craving your touch more often than he would like to admit. “No baby, it just sounds like a certain green-eyed monster was whispering things in your ear.”

“Green-eyed monster?” Xiao looked around the room with a confused expression, coming back to land on your gentle features. You could only laugh again. He never did understand the ways of humans very well. You were probably the hardest one of all. “It’s a saying. Basically, you were just jealous.” A look of disgust and utter disbelief washed over his pale face. He should have just left you down there if you were going to insult him! “Jealousy? How absurd for you to think adepti experience such pointless human emotions such as that.” You gave a small roll of your eyes and kissed his cheek. His cheeks darkened once more, embarrassed and annoyed by your affectionate actions. “Well… whatever the reason, you have nothing to worry about. I’m yours Xiao. I see only you.” The adeptus’ eyes shifted from your face to your chest, the gentle rise and fall of your chest making his brows furrow.

“That doesn’t mean people won’t try to sway your judgement or disregard your requests. Ah, wait, that’s… not what I meant…” The almighty adeptus rubbed the back of his neck and averted his gaze away from you, nervous about somehow offending you. Your judgement and love for him was strong, he knew you would never disregard him like that. “Humans can be despicable beings. They are bound to put you in danger.” You gave your lover a smile and moved your shirt to the side a little bit to expose your shoulder. Hearing the sound of clothing moving, he brought his gaze back to you quickly, blushing at the exposure of more of your smooth skin. “If you’re so worried about someone else trying to steal me away, then you can mark me if you’d like. A symbol that I’m taken, and I belong to you.” Xiao’s eyes widened upon your suggestion, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he took a thick gulp. His face had almost turned completely red at this point. Your smooth skin, your carefree smile, the gentle tone on your voice, it was beginning to make him feel all hot and tingly. “I’m yours, Xiao.”

Xiao remained silent; his body completely rigid, nervous to make the next move. His eyelids began to become heavy, only getting heavier as he took a hesitant step towards you. You weren’t scared or nervous in the slightest of him, he was your protector after all. He would always protect you. The pads of his gloved fingers reached out to lightly glide over your exposed flesh, his breathing slowly increasing. His hand came to grasp onto your shoulder lightly, holding your clothing out of the way for his face. You replaced your hands on his back, rubbing up and down his slightly exposed skin to ease his anxiety. A shaky breath fanned over your exposed skin, his mouth getting closer to your skin until his lips lightly pressed a kiss against your shoulder. The adeptus closed his eyes before taking a rather harsh bite into your shoulder, emitting a small wince of pain from your lips.

“X-Xiao.” Your voice called his name so sweetly despite your pain, he thought he was about to lose his mind. His non-occupied hand came behind you and tugged your body towards him, his teeth sinking deeper into your smooth flesh. He could taste the irony flavor of your blood on his tongue. From this alone he knew his mark was satisfactory. His teeth were removed from your shoulder, feathery lips peppering gentle kisses on your new mark. The innocent kisses he intended to give you became laced with need. His lips traveled up your neck, biting down lightly against your pulse point under your jaw before he got to work swirling his tongue over your skin and sucked on that spot. Your hands clung to his back, the warm and comforting feeling of his bare skin stirring a heat inside you. “Xiao… mph, what’re… you doing?”

“I’m sorry… I can’t… control myself.” He bit into your shoulder again, gentler this time, his hands moving from your shoulder and back to grab ahold of your waist, holding you closer to him. You submitted underneath his possessive actions, fingers curling around his dark evergreen locks. Your fingers threaded his hair, slightly calming down his erratically racing heart. A flush of blood rushed through his cheeks, adorning a light pink appearance to coat his skin. He pulled away, only to swoop back in and press his lips against yours. An intoxicating mixture of love, lust, and desire swarmed your mouth, the irony taste of your own blood coming to your taste buds. The adeptus’ hands slid their way up your waist further, his gloved hands gliding smoothly over your breasts. He pulled away briefly, staring intently into your eyes with his glowing amber orbs. “Is… Is it okay to continue?”

“Of course, Xiao.” Your affirmation made his once tense shoulders relax at the acceptance of his actions on your body. You gave him a confident smile and pressed your palm against his cheek lovingly. “You don’t need to ask every time you know? It’s not like we haven’t done this before.” Your lover averted his gaze from you, his hands finding yours before carefully pulling you to sit on the soft cushiony bed. He looked nervous. “I-I’m sorry… all of these… mortal things are still very perplexing and strange.” He watched closely as your head tilted in confusion at his confession. A worried look crossed through your eyes. “Do you dislike kissing me and having sex? If you aren’t comfortable we don’t have to-“

“No! That’s not it!” He gave you a firm glare before his eyes softened and looked down at his lap. His previous actions were unbecoming of a stone cold yaksha. To succumb himself to petty physical human desires such as sex. It bothered him how addicted he was becoming to you, and how vulnerable he had started to become. “I-I don’t dislike it… it’s…I’m weary… of how I let my guard down too much around you. It’s… dangerous.” His amber orbs observed the way your expression turned to one of worry at his words. It was clear that you were hesitant to continue or even touch him for that matter. He gave a conflicted sigh, raising a hand to his face before he gripped his dark evergreen hair. “My karma… your mortal life span, and the dangers I could possibly bring you. I-“

“Xiao.” He was quick to shut his mouth upon your gentle voice calling out his name. His hand lowered, heart rate increasing when you placed your hand in his. Your fingers pulled his chin slowly to make him look at you, a bright and unnerved smile appearing over your shy lips. “I would battle the archons and lose… if it means being with you. Nothing in this cruel world can pull me away from you. Let me shoulder your burden with yo-“ He cut you off with a firm rejection, brows furrowing deeply at the suggestion. You gave him a sympathetic look. “Xiao… I don’t mean to let me solely deal with your duties or take on all your karmic debt… what I mean is, let me be your rock. Let me be the stone in your soul that keeps you sane, that keeps the darkness at bay. And… come home to me and let me hold you and keep you safe from the corruption of nightmares. I love you, Xiao. I want to do this for you… as you always do for me.”

The vigilant yaksha was rendered speechless. Your heartfelt confession and plea to him made a deeper blush bloom over his pale cheeks, and the rapid beating of his heart hammer harder against his ribcage. Your smile was unwavering as you leaned closer to him, initiating that you wished to kiss him. Xiao obliged to your actions, meeting you halfway to press your lips together in a lovingly passionate kiss. He resumed his advances, gloved hands coming to slowly push you down against the bed before maneuvering them down to rest against your breasts. A sigh slipped into his mouth before he swallowed your sweet noises with his tongue. His hands groped your fleshy mounds, kneading them carefully. He broke the kiss to pant against your face, a flustered and loving look in his golden eyes.

“I’m going to continue.” You nodded your head to him, raising your arms to wrap around his neck and pull him in for another kiss. He reciprocated your actions, his body carefully shifting to place himself between your legs. One hand squeezed and groped your breasts while the other trailed down to lay his palm on the underside of your thigh, slowly sliding up until his hand firmly grasped your ass. He relished in the way you gave lustful sighs of bliss into his mouth, encouraging him to do more. Your hands intertwined into his dark evergreen locks, pulling him impossibly closer to attempt to meld together with him. Xiao pushed himself further towards you in response, his groin firmly being pressed against your crotch making him shudder at the friction against his shamefully hard length. “Xiao, I love you.”

“I know.” Your heart swelled at his loving response. He was a man of few words and had difficulties expressing his emotions. His actions reflected every emotion he was thinking. Love with the way he passionately kissed you and held your body. Desire with how his rough hands squeeze your curves so eagerly yet gentle. And lust, displayed by the way his hips rocked back and forth against yours to induce friction on where you both wanted to feel it the most. The grip on your ass tightened briefly, a groan rumbling through his toned chest. He removed his hands only to grab your waist firmly, pulling your hips to grind back against him. You gave him a quiet moan in response while he let out a sigh of bliss and relief. “Can I-… Uh, I’m… going to take your clothes off.”

“Go ahead, silly adeptus.” You jokingly teased at the way his words stammered while he was trying not to repetitively ask you permission but also being more assertive. He gave you a bit of a glare and flicked your forehead lightly before he replaced his hands back on your hips. He looked up at you again, making sure you were okay. You gave him a smile and a nod. Xiao took a short breath before he slid his hands up your shirt, the feeling of his rough gloved hands making you wiggle underneath him. “Xiao… please touch me.” He stopped his movements and looked at you with a straight face. His cheeks were lightly flushed, still embarrassed to be taking more initiative in such a sinful act and intimate act such as this. “I-I am touching you. Do you not like it? Where do you want me to touch you?”

“It feels good, but I want to feel your bare hands on me, please.” Oh, the way you asked so nice and sweet for him to touch you with his heavy hands. He couldn’t help but grant your wish. He removed his hands, a bashful expression across his face as he removed his gloves, showing off the black nails he had underneath with blunt crescent curves that simulated his true form. “I wish you would let me see your true form, Xiao. I bet it’s beautiful, just like you.” You swear you’ve never seen Xiao’s face a deeper shade of red than it was right now. His face was practically as red as a chili pepper. “D-Do you mortals ever know when to keep your mouth shut!” He averted his eyes quickly before he roughly pulled your shirt off out of embarrassment. You could only give a small giggle and look up at him with a gentle smile. “Then… make me shut up, Xiao.”

Xiao flinched at your words, shameful in the way your suggestive words made his cock jump with excitement. His golden eyes lowered to gaze at your chest covered by a curvy laced bra. The swells of your fleshy mounds had his mouth practically watering at the sight. He yearned to feel the softness of them in his sinful hands. You caught his staring and slyly started to pull the straps down, making him audibly swallow the saliva beginning to pool in his mouth. “I need you, Xiao.” He loved when you called out his name like that. He leaned down and reached behind your back, patiently and easily unclipping your bra to slide it off your shoulders. The cool air erected your sensitive buds, much to his pleasure. “So gorgeous…”

A small smile with a tint of pink washed over your own face as you reached out for his strong hands, placing one firmly against your breast. He squeezed his fingers and sighed in bliss, eyelids fluttering slightly as he struggled to keep himself composed while touching you so sinfully as he’d done before. The calloused fingertips of his rough hands glided along your skin before his fingers came to grasp around one of your nipples, his hungry eyes flickering up to watch your expression twist. He relished in the way you bit your lip when he gave it a gentle pinch. Your legs attempted to squeeze together, eyelids becoming heavier while you looked down at him touching you so nicely. “Mmm, Xiao…” He continued his actions swiftly, rolling the hardened bud between his index and thumb before he lowered to your unoccupied breast, hot breath fanning over your skin. You had to look away due to the intense eye contact he insisted on making while his tongue swirled lewdly over the hardened bud. “Look at me, (Y/N).”

“Hah, mmmm, e-embarrassing… Xiao.” You looked back down to him, his eyes staring intently into yours. You could clearly see the way his tongue flicked back and forth against your nipple, all while maintaining his lewd eye contact with you. Archons, having you watch him pleasure you was such a turn on for him. The free hand he had he pressed against your clothed core. The redness of his cheeks on increased when your back arched against him, your eyes fluttering closed to moan for him. “Moan my name more, please.” The Adeptus wrapped his lips around your nipple, sucking lightly on the sensitive bud before he became rougher in his movements. The hand against your pussy was now tugging harshly on your clothing, desperately trying to get it off without taking his attention off your chest. His hips bucked lightly against yours, larger for some kind of friction. “Xiao, baby, take it off, please.”

The adeptus released an excited groan, grabbing the hem of your pants and pulling down both your bottoms completely. You were now left completely bare in front of him. Exposed for his eyes only. It must have been some blessing from Rex Lapis himself for him to gift Xiao with someone as understanding, patient, loving, and beautiful as you. Every scarred imperfection, curve or stretch mark, blemish, or freckle. Every part of you was perfect to him. Your eyes gazed at him longingly and he almost couldn’t control the way his hands grasp at your thighs, pulling them closer towards his thin frame. His mouth popped off your erected bud, his hands now leaving your chest completely to replace lower and focus on an a more sensitive area.

“Hah… I can smell how aroused you are.” The light pants that left his mouth met your skin in a breath of sinful heat. His eyes lowered to carefully watch as his fingers slid past the curls of hair outlining your nether regions to slide his digits along your slick folds. Your back arched into the adeptus’ still somewhat inexperienced touch, breathing a sigh of pure bliss at the feather light touch he gave. “It’s warm and wet… do you want my fingers?” His question made your head spin with desire, your lip catching between your teeth before you gave him a small nod. His other hand came to cup your cheek, pulling you forward to kiss him while slowly sliding his index finger inside. A whiny moan was swallowed by the adeptus, his slender digits engulfed by the searing heat of your gummy and smooth walls. “I-Is it okay for you, (Y/N)? It doesn’t hurt, does it?”

“N-No, Xiao… it feels good… you can do more.”  Your lips vibrated against his own as you voiced your need for him to continue. His golden irises shimmered in the lowly sunlit room, his eyelids heavy and droopy over the hungry gaze he laid into you. A flutter of his lashes and his lips were on yours again, warm palms sliding to run in your hair. His middle finger glided easily into your slippery core, your slickened arousal making his job much easier. His fingers curled upwards, massaging your walls while he pumped his fingers back and forth at a slow pace. A blissful arch graced your back once more as you breathed out a shaky moan. The feeling of his knuckles bumping against your core could only stimulate you more. “Xiao, hah, Xiao please, hmm…”

Not a word was released from the smooth plumpness of the adeptus’ lips. His mouth lowered to your cheek, peppering kisses along your cheek, and cascading down your jaw. The rhythm of his fingers increased; the arousal trapped within his pants pressing painfully against the breathy fabric oh his pants. His tongue came to glide along the delicate skin of your pulse point beneath your mandible, sharpened canines hungry for a taste of you again. Indulging in his selfish desires of claiming you as his own, his teeth sunk into your neck lucidly, the pace of his fingers becoming harsher and quicker. Sloppy wet sounds gushed from your nether regions and fell upon your flushed ears. Uncontrollable moans falling from your throat to grace his inhuman ears.

“Ahh! Xiao!” The tips of his slender fingers jutted against your sweet spot, curling so deliciously to the point your knees began to shake. His thumb came to search messily for your excited bundle of nerves, easily finding your stimulated clit in mere seconds. His teeth sunk deeper, tongue lewdly flicking over your skin and lapping any traces of blood that threaten to bead up on your lovely skin. Any pain or discomfort from his teeth was swallowed by the sheer overstimulated pleasure you were receiving from him. “It’s too much! It’s too much!” Your body jerked against him, legs flailing beside his hips while he struggled to maintain his claim on your neck. He finally released your neck and removed his fingers out of your aching insides. “Hah… I… want to… do it right now.”

“Xiao please… hah, claim me.” Your warm nimble fingers reached down, running your palm along the tent in his pants before forcing your hand up his tight white shirt. The feeling of his toned abdomen made your lip catch between your teeth, relishing in the sculpted tone your lover held. As impatience settled deeper into Xiao’s bones, he hurriedly removed his shirt and religious items he wore to fend off evil that dared to sink its claws deeper into him. The clambering of his dark violet boots accented in glamorous jade echoed the room as they fell to the floor. The baggy pants that normally adorned his waist now scrunched slightly below his hips. He never liked to fully undress, wanting to be prepared for any emergency that may happen during intercourse. “I’m… going to claim you and make you mine, permanently. Is… that something that you intend to take responsibility for?”

You were confused by his question but looking at the anxious gaze in his eyes you had an idea of what he meant. The pads of your fingers lifted to graze his shoulder lightly, running your fingers along the jaded markings of his illuminated beast tattoo. “Yes.” Your tone held no waver in the slightest. The plague of anxiety or uncertainty was absent, making Xiao’s heart race with anticipation of sheer admiration for you. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he took a thick gulp, leaning his face down towards yours. “Okay, I’ll try… to be gentle with you.” One of his arms came to rest beside your head to hold himself up while the other reached down to push his underwear down. The piercing gaze of his golden sunlit eyes never faltered from yours, the shaky breathing of his lungs fanning over your face once he freed his hardened length. “I’ll do it now. Is it okay to continue?”

“I told you, Xiao…” Your hands moved to hold his smooth and warm cheeks, your fingers lightly tucking some of his dark evergreen locks behind his ear. With a smile and a peck on the lips, you reassured him of your resolve once more. “You don’t have to ask if I’ll be yours… I already am, and I always will be.” The adeptus’ face twisted into an expression you’d never seen before. An expression of pure love and happiness. The smile that graced his typical frowning lips warmed your heart and caused butterflies to spread throughout your stomach. He pressed his forehead against yours, piercing eyes staring intently into yours. The nudge of his sticky cock head bumped against your folds, giving you a silent warning before he penetrated your eager insides. “Keep your eyes on me… and don’t look away.”

“Y-Yes, Xiao…” That was easier said than done. Just at the sheer touch of Xiao’s sinful heat pressed against your inviting cunt was more than enough to have your eyes rolling back in anticipation. Your breath mixed with your lovers, tingles of desire buzzing around your mind as you felt a pressure applying to your entrance. Xiao’s gaze was unwavering and lovingly intense, almost as if he was trying to practically see through you. With the last bit of pressure, he had slowly pushed the head of his cock inside. A moan slipped past your lips, eyelids drooping slightly at the blissful stretch that surrounded your nether regions. Xiao only sighed out sexily, pushing further to let his sinful length be engulfed by your gooey heat. “Xiao, hmm, I love you.”

His only response was to grab your face and smash his lips against yours in a messy kiss, his tongue invading your mouth dominantly while his pelvis pressed against yours in an eager attempt to get as deep as he could. A low groan caught in his throat, hips lolling back only to come and meet yours once again to connect your drooling sexes. Your hands came to his back, clinging to the rippled muscles on his back. The nails of your delicate fingers pierced his pale skin, forcing a painful yet satisfied grunt out of the adeptus while he continued to melt your tongue with his own. His hips rolled into yours slowly, the low and wet sounds of your sexes colliding was quiet, accompanied by the occasional creek of the mattress in his small inn room.

“Faster, please Xiao…” You parted the kiss, pleading softly to speed up the sinful rhythm of his lust. Xiao obliged by your naughty wishes; his face so close to yours while the speed of his vivid thrusts has your mind in a haze. Your back arched, nails digging deeper into his back at the new pace he chose. He could feel your hot moans against his ear, his own face heating up as he could only feel his cock get harder and twitch slightly at the feeling and sound of your pleasure filled noises. “Ngh, I-I feel good… hah, do you feel good too?” You couldn’t form a complete sentence, submitting completely under his overpowering thrusts. Xiao’s hands removed from your face, propping himself up on the bed before he scoots his knees forward. His thighs pressed against yours, pushing your legs more in the air while he practically straddled you. His hands found your waist, holding firmly before he started to thrust harder, moaning out your name. “F-Fuck, (Y/N)… I can’t… control myself, hah.”

Xiao looked absolutely breath-taking like this. His evergreen bangs were hanging loosely from the slender frame of his face. A rosy blush coated his smooth skin, the plush softness of his lips swollen from his hunger to mark up every bit of your body with him and him only. The small bit of blood smeared over his lips was almost unnoticeable. Through his heavy and sexy pants of uncontrollable bliss you could clearly see the shimmer of his white fangs, sharp and forever wanting to be embedded into your flesh. The possessive look in the adeptus’ eyes only grew heavier once he realized how intently you were starting to stare at him. Your eyes gazing up at him with lust and utter adoration making his stomach twist while his heart hammered against the strong bones of his ribcage.

Your appreciation for Xiao’s beauty was interrupted at a sudden harsh thrust into your core, hitting that heavenly spot inside that made stars appear in your vision. “Ahh! Xiao! R-Right there, it’s—oh my god, Xiao!” Xiao groaned in response to your pleas to keep hitting that generously pleasurable spot inside, his rough hands pulling your mortal body back against him as he thrust his length as deep as he could. His golden eyes narrowed gazing at your marked up skin under his teeth. Would now be a good time? No, not yet he wanted you to cum when he permanently engraved his teeth into you to place a possessive mark on your body. A low and husky growl erupted from his chest, his muscles rippling under intense emotions feeling you tighten around him. “Sh-Shit I can’t… hah, can’t hold it anymore…”

“Xiao, Xiao, I’m cumming… I’m- hmm! I’m cumming!” The harsh rhythm of his hips crescendoed into loud and lewd slaps of skin, more grotesquely wet noises coming from your sexes colliding repeatedly. The bed started to whine underneath the intense shifting of weight, the headboard smashing against the wall underneath Xiao’s erratic thrusts. The stench of sex filled the adeptus’ sharp nose, his eyes rolling back at the way you tightened around him so blissfully. Your head threw back into the sheets with a loud moan as a hot wave of bliss washed over your body. The uncomfortable knot in your abdomen snapping to release your essence all over Xiao’s cock. A gooey white ring circled Xiao’s length, your release pushing him over the edge. He lunged forward, biting the space between your neck and shoulder harshly when he came. A dark aura surrounded him, his teeth sinking deeper and deeper the more he felt his cum pump inside your warm welcoming insides. “XIAO!”

He hated the painful way you called out his name when he was marking you. He knew it hurt you, but he promised this would be the only time he would ever hurt you. The irony metallic taste of your blood touched his tongue, savoring the sweet way it tasted against his inhuman tongue. A soft cry passed your lips, whimpering in pain and pleasure. The way his tip twitched with his release made your legs start to shake, generously overstimulated by his cum filling your now sloppy insides. Finally, his cock became soft, sharp fangs removing from your neck to show the dark evergreen mist flowing around your new mark. Xiao was shamelessly pleased with his mark on you, the wound scarring almost immediately to show that you belonged to him. He was painfully selfish when it came to you. You were his happiness, and he’d be damned if anyone were to try to take you away from him.

“Xiao… T-That… really hurt.” Reality of the current situation came back to him, red blossoming over his pale cheeks immediately as he realized he had only been thinking of himself in that moment. He pulled out slowly and rose one of his rough hands to gently stroke your cheek. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you. But you agreed to be mine so… I-I gave you a mark. Mortals, gods, and other adepti can… c-can tell you’re mine through this.” His voice was calm and soothing, yet also sorrow-filled at the reminder of having to inflict this pain on you. To his surprise, you only gave him an understanding smile in return, leaning up weakly to peck his lips tiredly. “I see… thank you, Xiao. I love you.”

“I… I-“ You could tell he was struggling with expressing his affections through words. Xiao was an individual who showed his affection and trust by letting you near him. His tendencies to avoid mortal or heavenly contact was obvious. He secluded himself to focus on his duties and not burden others by his presence alone. Your eyes focused on his rosy cheeks, red in embarrassment, golden irises shifting from different spots on the bed in discomfort. He wanted to say it. He wanted to say those three words that he knew you wanted to hear. To confirm to you that he did in fact have a heart and it was absolutely overflowing with love, all for you. With a thick gulp of the saliva gathering in his mouth, he opened his mouth only to be stopped by your finger against his lips. “Shh, you don’t have to force yourself to say it, Xiao. I know you love me. Just being with me is enough to show that.”

Xiao was silent for a moment, nervous eyes finally coming to meet yours. He searched your gaze for any signs of distrust, any sign that you were lying just for his sake. No traces of a lie lingered anywhere in the loving gaze you set upon him. You truly meant every word you said. A soft sigh left his swollen lips, his body shifting to come and lay his head against the soft swell of your breasts. His arms circled your waist, pulling you impossibly closer to him. You smiled and began to run your fingers through his dark evergreen hair, soothing him into a relaxing state of domestic bliss. The sound of your heartbeat calmed him, and he could feel any burdens of his karmic debt vanishing from his veins in your comfort. Maybe he can start relying on you more when his burdens pile too high. He was still learning how to be better for you and give you everything you deserve. As the sunset on another day drawing to a close, the adeptus whispered to you, oh so quietly, his overwhelming feelings for you that he would one day hope to be brave enough to say aloud.

“…I love you too…”

“I’m far from human. I can’t make much of human emotions.”

-Xiao

[littlemissleeee]

Deceived by a Community Member

I was recently involved in an affair with @bostonler. I didn't knowingly participate in this. He told me he was single and looking for his 'lee. Over the course of a few weeks he said we were dating long distance, couldn't wait to take me out on our first date, and that I was his girl. We eagerly set up a session and a date for mid July.

I have evidence upon request but will remove any information that could dox either of us. I have nothing to hide and will send you any and all evidence to prove that this, in fact, happened.

He had been messaging me for months across different platforms before this but it wasn't until after a hectic period in my life ended that I started messaging back.

He flew from Chicago to Boston to go out with me and session together, only to completely blow off our date. Then his behavior changed overnight. Literally. The 2nd day of his visit he was distant, didn't make any effort to get to know me more, and even gave up while we were being intimate leaving me bewildered.

He wouldn't take ownership of his behavior. And in the following days his yellow flags turned red. His "roommate" that he never wanted to talk to me on the phone in front of was a massive flag. Turns out it was his girlfriend. The birthday celebration he went to that was his buddies? His birthday out with his girlfriend and friends.

Everything this man said was a lie. It didn't take long to track down his girlfriend and tell her everything, including photo evidence to prove the affair. Her friend and some others reached out to confirm my experience.

To say I feel deceived and hurt is an understatement. @bostonler deliberately gaslighted and manipulated me for his own gain. And then had the audacity to say that me reaching out to his girlfriend was dragging her through the mud. He was never apologetic about what he had done to me until I went off on him about how he was apathetic and remorseless, only upset that he got caught.

This is now the second man in the tickling community that's had an affair with me against my will.

I get that it moved fast. But it just felt right. And he told me what I wanted to hear to get content and experiences he wasn't getting with his girlfriend. His girlfriend never knew about his fetish or kinks, or that he has been attending play events without her knowledge.

For the safety of other community members, I wanted to let you know this man will lie to your face about anything and everything. That even though many of you vetted him from the Pittsburgh event, he isn't trustworthy. Is that really a person you want to trust being vulnerable in a session with? Is that behavior you want to condone in this community, where trust and consent are everything?

If you are someone that doesn't see a problem with his behavior, or if you want to remain neutral towards how damaging this is to the entire community due to a major breach of trust, then count yourself out of my circle and future sessions. Remember, Im the one who has no problem sharing all 517 screenshots of evidence. He won't.

[mariacallous]

As war rages between Israel and Hamas in the Gaza Strip, it is hard to envision an end to the conflict. For decades, though, a growing movement of Palestinian and Israeli women has not only envisioned a peaceful coexistence, but also demanded it.

Just three days before Hamas’s Oct. 7, 2023, attack, thousands of women from two peacebuilding groups gathered at Jerusalem’s Tolerance Monument for a rally and march. Israelis from Women Wage Peace carried blue flags, and Palestinians from Women of the Sun flew yellow ones.

Members of the two groups traveled to the Dead Sea—believed since ancient times to have healing qualities—and set a table. Women from both sides pulled up chairs as a symbol of a good-faith resumption of negotiations to reach a political solution.

Women Wage Peace formed in response to Operation Protective Edge, which was Israel’s 2014 invasion of Gaza in the wake of then-U.S. Secretary of State John Kerry’s failed effort to restart final status negotiations.

“We, Palestinian and Israeli mothers, are determined to stop the vicious cycle of bloodshed,” reads the preamble to their campaign, the Mother’s Call. This campaign was nine months in the making, and it involved aligning around a single agenda that demands a political solution within a limited time frame.

They set the table to show the importance of dialogue and women’s involvement in decision-making. But in the war between Israel and Hamas that has started since then, women’s voices are largely missing from negotiations and consultations.

Ensuring women’s participation isn’t about equity or fairness or a show of inclusion. It’s about winning the peace.

In 2014, Laurel Stone, then a researcher at Seton Hall University, conducted a quantitative analysis of 156 peace agreements over time. She found that when women are decision-makers—serving as negotiators and mediators—the probability of an agreement lasting at least two years increased by 20 percent. The probability of the agreement holding for 15 years increased by 35 percent.

Many studies show that women tend to be more collaborative, more focused on social issues over military issues, and less likely to attack those who hold differing views. With women at the table, the potential for risk-taking behavior and attacks on perceived enemies may be lower. In diverse teams, decisions are more likely to be based on facts than assumptions.

While men are more likely to be fighters in war, the work of holding families and communities together more often falls to women, and according to some studies, it’s women who more frequently stand up for a return to negotiations, civilian protection, and an end to violence.

“We learned from the cases of Northern Ireland and Liberia,” Yael Braudo-Bahat, the co-director of Women Wage Peace, told Foreign Policy. Women’s active participation greatly strengthened these peace and recovery processes.

Ahead of the formal talks that led to the Belfast Agreement in Northern Ireland, Catholic and Protestant women’s groups formed the Northern Ireland Women’s Coalition and gained two seats at a table of 20 in formal negotiations. As one of the few groups that moved beyond the sectarian divide, its members were seen as honest brokers. They represented civil society concerns and helped ensure that the agreement included commitments for social healing and integration.

Because the brutality of war falls disproportionately on women—they frequently are the first to go hungry, serve as the de facto caretakers, and become the victims of increased gender based violence—they are often committed to finding a path to peace even when male leaders won’t compromise.

During the Second Liberian Civil War, women played a heroic role by successfully pressuring male decision-makers to negotiate. The documentary Pray the Devil Back to Hell, directed by Gini Reticker and produced by Abigail Disney, popularized the incredible story of how women convinced the warring parties to attend peace talks in Accra, Ghana.

“We were the ones watching our children die of hunger … we were the easiest targets of rape and sexual abuse,” said Nobel Prize laureate Leymah Gbowee, the founder of the Women for Liberia Mass Action for Peace grassroots movement, which played a major role in pushing then-President Charles Taylor to sign a peace agreement in 2003. This common suffering among women formed the basis for unity across political and religious divides.

In Israel and Gaza, women will need to play an important role in the implementation of any new accord between Israel and Palestine, Braudo-Bahat said. Her organization’s partnership with its Palestinian counterpart, Women of the Sun, has remained steadfast, even after learning that her co-founder, Vivian Silver, 74, was murdered by Hamas on Oct. 7.

“We continue our plans—we work together, and we don’t hide it,” she said. “It might be dangerous to the Women of the Sun, but they are so courageous.”

Although many Palestinians want peace, for others, “peace is normalization,” a member of Women of the Sun wrote to Foreign Policy via WhatsApp, choosing to go by the initials M.H. to preserve her anonymity and safety. Some Palestinians think that “it’s something shameful to be dealing with Israel,” she added, because it could imply that the Israelis’ treatment of, and policies toward, Palestinians are tolerable.

“I believe we should actively engage and collaborate, even if some label it as normalization,” M.H. said. “I am committed to working toward a better future for us.”

International law is on the side of these women. United Nations Security Council Resolution 1325, adopted unanimously more than 23 years ago, urges all member states to increase the participation of women in peace and security efforts, and highlights women’s essential role in preventing war, protecting civilians, and negotiating lasting peace.

Despite Israel’s deteriorating track record with regard to women’s rights and roles as decision-makers, women are involved in the war as politicians, members of the military and civilians. Women in politics have made important advances for gender equity, although among the 32 cabinet ministers sworn in a year ago, only five were women. One of those women ministers was dismissed amid the recent closure of the Ministry for the Advancement of Women.

The reality for women in Gaza is far more challenging when it comes to holding leadership positions. Women generally do not participate in public political activities or hold public office, although Hamas appointed 23-year old Isra al-Modallal as its first female spokesperson in November. She told the Guardian newspaper that she is not a member of Hamas or any political party.

At the start of the conflict, Hamas had just one woman, Jamila al-Shanti, 68, serving as part of the organization’s 15-member political bureau. Al-Shanti, who was also a founder of Hamas’s women’s movement, died in an Israeli airstrike on Oct. 19.

“You can hear amazing rhetoric and lip service, even from the Palestinian leadership,” Dr. Dalal Iriqat, an assistant professor at the Arab American University in the West Bank, told Foreign Policy. “But when it comes to practice, I always find a scarcity of women in decision-making.”

Women’s organizations in the Palestinian territories and in Israel have a rich history of political engagement, however. Palestinian women created social structures such as health clinics and orphanages for displaced Palestinians following the 1948 Arab-Israeli War. Following the Six-Day War in 1967, with traditional political structures in tatters and both Gaza and the West Bank under Israeli occupation, women of every social class stepped up.

It was through the networks they formed that a new cadre of women activists emerged as a force in December 1987, when Palestinian frustration with Israeli rule broke out in a popular uprising that became known as the First Intifada, or “shaking off.” Underlying this largely nonviolent Palestinian struggle was a collective social, economic, and political mobilization led by women.

Palestinian political leadership acknowledged women’s centrality in the Intifada, which paved the way for negotiations with Israel when it included three women—Suad Amiry, Zahiria Kamal, and Hanan Ashrawi—as part of the delegation that participated in the Middle East peace talks that culminated with the Madrid Conference in October 1991.

Ultimately, though, exiled Palestinian Liberation Organization leaders shunted the Madrid framework to begin secret negotiations with Israel that resulted in the security-focused Oslo Accords and the establishment of the Palestinian Authority. Under their leadership, Israeli occupation, and the failures of the Oslo Accords, democratic ideals and women’s rights eroded.

Israel and the United States have discussed a potential role for the Palestinian Authority in Gaza after the military operation. The Palestinian Authority has three women ministers, including its minister for women’s affairs, though women still struggle for equal opportunities and freedom from violence.

“Women usually refrain from being [an] activist in politics,” said an activist in the West Bank who withheld her name for security reasons. “Women are frightened to be involved in political activities, because they will be put in jail or be subjected to any kind of violence.” And the conditions are much worse for women when funding is restricted, as well as under Hamas, she said.

Serena Awad, a Gazan nonprofit worker who is now living in Rafah, told Foreign Policy that Gazan women are directing and managing many aspects of the humanitarian response. These women work for the United Nations as well as in health, cultural, child protection, human rights, sports, and legal organizations.

“I have lived through six aggressions, and every time, I wait for my turn to die,” said 24-year-old Awad. “What I want the world to know is that women in Gaza are like any other women—we study, go to work, have our own family, but we suffer.”

Israeli and Palestinian women working as peacebuilders say they need more international support. Women’s organizations are notoriously underfunded in the best of times, with only 0.4 percent of global gender-related funding going directly to women’s rights organizations, according to calculations by the Association for Women’s Rights in Development.

During crises, women’s rights often take a back seat. Women of the Sun’s 2024 budget is approximately $100,000, and Women Wage Peace’s budget is approximately $1 million, according to the organizations’ representatives.

Women’s groups are more likely to be effective during negotiations and during the implementation of recovery programs when they have access to external funding. During the peace process between Sudan and South Sudan, for example, South Sudanese women were highly mobilized as delegates, but some had to pause their involvement so they could go back to earning money.

In addition to funding, democratic countries have a role to play by insisting on women’s participation in negotiations, said M.H. of the Women of the Sun. She and other peacebuilders say that the United States and the United Nations should be more active in promoting women as counterparts, negotiators, and experts.

“By will, things can happen,” M.H. told Foreign Policy “And if the US says it [that women should be involved in negotiations], it can happen.”.

Talks convened by Qatar, the United States, and Egypt to end the conflict between Hamas and Israel are underway. These countries and other regional players—including Jordan, Israel, and the Palestinian Authority, have previously created national action plans that recognize the unique impact of war on women and their crucial role in promoting peace, culminating in 107 countries worldwide forming national action plans to empower women.

Still, news coverage reveals little or no evidence of efforts by these countries to promote women’s participation in the Israel-Hamas conflict.

The U.S. State Department is “working to ensure the expertise of women from civil society and in government is incorporated in any process related to the current conflict in Gaza,” wrote a spokesperson in an email.

If the political will for participation exists, both Israelis and Palestinians have a robust list of women advocates from which to draw for official and nonofficial negotiations and discussions. A diverse list of 12 Israeli and Palestinian women who are qualified to participate in negotiations was provided by the 1325 Project run by members of  Women Lawyers for Social Justice—known in Israel as Itach Ma’aki—to the U.S. Embassy and other embassies and international bodies.

“At least one person will be engaging in Track 2 and 3 efforts, and she was approached through us by an international body,” said 1325 project co-director Netta Loevy, referring to nonofficial negotiations and consultations.

Braudo-Bahat, meanwhile, urged policymakers to involve women in discussions now—not after violence ends. “The day after the war is yesterday … we need to start now,” she said.

Back in Gaza, the water tastes like poison; it’s freezing, and Awad, the 24-year-old nonprofit worker, keeps losing weight. She asked almost a dozen Gazan women leaders what they think should happen to resolve the war and to ensure that women participate in negotiations.

No one could give her an answer. They were busy responding to humanitarian needs, and telecommunication and internet services were out.

“Nothing has changed, but what can we do about it? All we can do is waiting and praying for this to end,” Awad wrote to Foreign Policy through WhatsApp, which only works for her about once every four days.

Iriqat, the Arab American University professor, has one wish: “That someone considers that if women are in charge, and involved, a more strategic agreement could hold.”

[random-thought-depository]

Re: manbear discourse (this is a discourse iceberg I've mercifully only seen the top of): am I the only one thinking that part of the subtext of the discussion may be that "man alone in the woods" is itself seen as suspicious behavior?

If the comparison isn't "bear to random man" but "bear to man who shows potential signs of hostility/dangerous failure of values-alignment with mainstream society," then being more scared of the man gets significantly more reasonable:

1) That point about the base rate fallacy (you encounter men many times per day without being attacked, you probably rarely encounter bears) gets shakier.

2) Especially because this is exactly the sort of circumstance in which values-alignment failure is likely to lead to actual aggression. This is a man alone with you. A man dangerously values-unaligned with mainstream morality is likely to still be civil and non-aggressive with you in ordinary day to day interactions, as a matter of his own self-preservation. In an encounter in the wilderness with no witnesses and no-one around who might intervene, you lack this "apes together strong" collective protection. Put it more baldly, if this guy was a serial killer, for him this situation would be the perfect opportunity to kill somebody and get away with it.

3) A hostile/dangerously values-unaligned man is in many ways a potentially more dangerous opponent than a bear despite the bear's greater brute strength; a hostile/dangerously values-unaligned man is much smarter than a bear and may have tools that give him many tactically relevant abilities a bear doesn't have (most obviously, he may have a gun, which is a significantly more dangerous weapon than a bear's teeth and claws). A hostile/dangerously values-unaligned man is also much better equipped to pretend to be safe to be around until he can get you into a position of vulnerability; if you meet a bear you know right away that you're dealing with a powerful, dangerous creature that doesn't have human morality, but an ordinary human is likely to extend substantial trust to another human by default.

The problem with this is, uh, it kind of seems to just move the dumbness from "a random man is more dangerous than a bear" to "a man being alone in the woods is a red flag that he might be out to kill, rape, rob, etc. people"; the latter doesn't strike me as a particularly reasonable proposition either!

Also, if this is about gender, it moves the accusation against men from "a random man is statistically more likely to be dangerous than a bear" to "men are more likely to be dangerously values-unaligned with mainstream society than women so a man being alone in the woods is a yellow/red flag for that but a woman being alone in the woods is not." Is the latter a more plausible/reasonable proposition than the former? Offhand, I can see some possible evidence for "men are more likely to be dangerously values-unaligned with mainstream society than women" e.g. most murderers are men, but 1) that's kind of weak, 2) that then raises the question of how much of the difference is the product of dangerously values-unaligned women being more incentivized to submit to the "apes together strong" pro-sociality coalition because physical sex differences and gender roles result in such women tending to have less physical strength, less access to and familiarity with weapons, and less familiarity with violence than their male equivalents. Note point 2) in relation to this.

[charles-leclerc-official]

2024 China Grand Prix Race Analysis

Here is my full analysis of the 2024 Chinese Grand prix. I already covered the sprint in a separate post here.

The important thing to keep in mind about this weekend is that the Chinese track was a very unique surface. It caused a lot of unusual grip problems for many of the top teams. I think as a whole that this race saw some outlier results as far as car behavior goes.

Table of Contents Stake - Zhou - Valtteri Ferrari - Start - Charles: his race, vs Lando - Carlos - Data Analysis Mclaren - Lando - Oscar - Data Analysis Penalties - Logan - Kevin - Daniel - Lance VCARB Aston Martin Red Bull - Checo Final Thoughts

Stake

Zhou

I usually start these with Ferrari. However this is a special occasion. So we are starting the analysis by celebrating Zhou and his performance this weekend.

This was the first Chinese Grand Prix in Formula 1 history with a Chinese driver racing on track. Zhou Guanyu made history and considering the car he's in he gave a good performance for the home crowd. Between qualifying 10th in the sprint, making some pretty good overtakes during the race, and carrying his team after Valtteri's DNF it was a pretty good weekend all around.

It was so nice to see all of the home support for Zhou. He was given an honorary spot at parc fermé after the race, and I am so glad they did something special to highlight this moment for him and the country he is representing in F1.

Zhou driving this weekend really was the highlight. This was only ever going to happen once in F1. Glad I was here to see it.

Valtteri unfortunately suffered a power unit failure and had to retire from the race. No damage to the car. This did bring out the yellow flag and a VSC. And when the marshals were unable to roll the car off the track quickly enough it upgraded to a full safety car(don’t worry we will be coming back to this)

He was looking pretty good in the car until that point, actually getting close to the points. I think we might see Stake in the points this year if they ever get their pit stops under control.

Ferrari

Ferrari's race was probably the weakest for the team so far this season. It wasn't really a surprise though. The cooler temperatures and inconsistent track surface were not ideal for the SF24.

Charles started in P6 and finished P4, Carlos started P7 and finished P5.

I do consider this not to be indicative of any downward trend for Ferrari. It was pretty predictable and it did not reveal any issues in the SF-24 we weren't already aware of (tyre warming)

Ferrari did say that they sacrificed more in qualifying in favor of a better race setup. And I don't think this was necessarily a bad idea. It's impossible to say if a different setup might have put them higher and if they have been able to defend with that setup. Going for a more race focused setup and relying on the better tyre deg to be able to allow for overtaking is a pretty good plan, especially if they didn't think they could get much more out of qualifying.

This did mean that we got to see some proper overtakes in the SF-24 from Charles and that is something we just haven't seen a lot of this season so far. So seeing how it handles in that regard was good.

So the big question is, why did Ferrari suddenly end up behind a Mclaren when Ferrari have been easily beating them all season?

Well there are a few factors:

- Ferrari struggled this weekend with grip and failed to find the best balance in the car to maximize top speeds. They did sacrifice some downforce in favor of speed during the race but I don't think it was enough. It didn't do enough to help the top speeds and it sacrificed grip so we ended up a weird middle ground that didn't optimize either problem. This track surface really made it so hard to figure out the right direction for setup.

- Mclaren(Lando) were stronger than expected. Lando was really the one pulling performance out of that car.

I will point out some key areas on this in the data analysis section as well.

Race Start

The most notable thing about Ferrari’s race was the start, when Carlos compromised his and Charles’ start by attacking right into turn 1. This forced Charles to have to defend(something he should not have to do right off the race start from his own teammate who started behind) and this resulted in them both immediately losing a place to Russell. This was a place they both had to fight to make up.

Again, this kind of thing isn’t good when compromising the results for the whole team is the result.

Footage Analysis

Just so we are clear about who is responsible for the loss of placement I want to show the footage from this start. This is from Carlos' driver cam footage as it most clearly shows what happened.

Charles starts P6 with Carlos behind him in P7. George is behind them in P8.

Into turn 1 Charles has the inside line, very clearly. Carlos has the outside line into the turn, this is fine. Charles is also clearly ahead.

Carlos pushes inside more, putting pressure on Charles. Notice how much closer Carlos got and how much space he left on the outside(another vulnerability he left open)

Charles pushes Carlos back(to defend which he has to do if attacked especially into a crowded corner like that a the race start)

Charles then took full position in front of Carlos, and this allowed George to slip past both of them on the inside line.

Because Carlos forced Charles to defend George was able to take that inside line that Charles had and passed both of them, dropping Charles and Carlos down a place.

Charles cannot defend both the outside and inside line on his own. He defended against the car that put pressure on him first. His teammate should not be the main one he has to defend team track position against.

Carlos compromised Charles' ability to defend position against George(which is the priority, he's on a rival team that is more important than racing between teammates)

Again if he is attacked Charles has to defend, why would he give up the place to the teammate he was faster than? Nothing would have happened if Carlos hadn’t pulled this move. Charles would have kept George behind and they might have been able to overtake earlier in the race and gain one more position, because they lost a full position to George this early they had to take that back before they could make progress climbing further up the field.

Carlos

This was Carlos' weakest performance so far this year. He compromised the race start for himself and Ferrari causing them both to lose placement immediately. Then he was unable to overtake. The only real overtakes he's pulled off were on cars with seriously compromised brakes.

He struggled with grip and tyres more than Charles. They both had issues in this area but it was more noticeable in his performance.

Charles finished 10.36 seconds ahead of his teammate who was directly behind him in the final 13 laps this race. And that gap can be explained by the fact Carlos was stuck behind Fernando for more laps(as well as a pit stop), however once he got into clean air he did not make up any time at all, his pace didn’t gain on Charles at all with the clean air. A gap in pace that big between teammates is concerning(at least for Carlos) It may be due to his personal choice of setup, or tyre management, or grip in the track. Given that he had more issues with grip on this track I am thinking that was a factor. He lost most of his time on turns 1, 5, 7, 8, and 10.

Edit: also Carlos did pit under normal conditions while Charles pitted under the safety car, this saved Charles some time(aprox 7-8 seconds), however the main point stands that Carlos did not make any progress closing the gap between them.

Charles

Charles' overtakes climbing up the field really saved Ferrari's race. Starting off by losing a position he climbed up places pulling some really clean overtakes and also helping his teammate through.

It was great to see him doing some overtaking in this car, he hasn't been in the position to do much of that due to track position etc in previous races. SF-24 looked good on that front in his hands.

Charles mentioned the lack of speed on straights, and this is due to the fact he wasn't able to gain on Lando in those sections(when he should have) this is due to the less than optimal downforce balance Ferrari went with this weekend(again I don't this is anything terribly concerning, this was a hard track to get that right on)

Overall Charles ran a really good race, obviously not the results he wanted but he extremely optimistic about the upgrades and that they will address some of the current limitations of the SF-24.

Data Analysis

I want to compare Charles and Lando's pace to highlight where Mclaren had the edge on Ferrari in this race. Charles was the fastest Ferrari this weekend and Lando was the fastest Mclaren.

First here is a breakdown of the fastest lap both driver's set.

Lando's straight line speed was really a big factor in keeping him ahead. That plus the fact he was consistently strong in sector 2.

And here is a look at the overall race pace between the two.

Ignore the mess in the middle, that curve is just correcting a slope for the outlier laps due to yellow flag and safety car conditions. It's not important here.

Lando had the edge on Charles almost the entire race. Until the end on the old hards.

What is important is that Lando had the pace on the new hards. Charles didn’t have the time to catch Lando once he managed to gain the places. He probably would have without the yellow flags and if track placement was better. The point being that Ferrari’s pace was off this weekend but it wasn’t as bad as it looked on track, there were other factors at play.

I think this result was a combination of a sub-optimal setup for this track on Ferrari's part on top of the fact this wasn't Ferrari’s strongest track, and Mclaren getting things right for Lando. Also some fairly solid driving from Lando.

Now I want to compare Charles' and Carlos' fastest laps and pace. This was the biggest gap in performance we've seen so far this year between the two Ferraris. Some of that I will attribute to the fact this track was weird as far as track surface goes, but such a big difference between teammates like this means it wasn't just the car or the track surface. While both were not great with grip or setup this weekend one outperformed the other by a decent margin.

Here is a look at Charles' and Carlos' fastest laps.

Charles having better straight line speed consistently and putting in a strong sector three is what put him ahead of Carlos and kept him there for the entire race.

Now here is the full race pace.

Again remember to ignore the weird lines in the middle that is just the graphing tool not able to create a good slope for all the safety car laps.

But you can see that Charles' pace was better the entire race, on both the medium and the hard tyres.

I don't think there was a lot more to get out of this weekend for Ferrari. It's possible managing the pits a little differently would have gotten Charles up to third but with the yellow flag chaos It was really difficult to gauge in real time when the best time to pit was. I think the pit management was good. We can look back and go "oh we could have gained a place here" So I have no issues there.

Hopefully that clears up some questions about Ferrari's overall race and car performance this weekend.

Overall this was still decent points for the constructors’ and we saw some good racing from Charles. I do fully believe we will be seeing Ferrari come back stronger in Miami.

Mclaren

Why was Mclaren, specifically Lando, so strong this weekend?

Well it's unclear.

They have had the clear #3 car so far this season. So I think that it's a combination of this not being a strong track for Ferrari and some conditions that favored their car that put them ahead.

No one, not even Mclaren expected this so I really think it seems like it comes down to this track being better for them than expected and Lando specifically being tuned into the track. Like after practice Lando was not feeling confident(his words) and the team were also not making any promises. I don’t think they were sandbagging, I think this genuinely all came together for them. 

Now it’s clear that Lando would have finished P3 behind Checo if it were not for the luck/strategy(a little of both they timed that well, but also had to get lucky with Red Bull timing) with the pits. Red Bull lost track position to Lando when they pitted Checo and they were unable to take it back. If Red Bull had timed their stop better Lando would have been P3 because his pace was not going to catch Checo if he was ahead.

So the P2 is due to some good driving on Lando’s part and Red Bull giving up track position and failing to recover it.

Oscar struggled more on this track. However he wasn't far outside where we've seen him in other races and for Mclaren in general. So he wasn’t under-performing, Lando was over performing. I also want to note that Oscar was slightly damaged during the crash between Lance and Dani, Dani's front wing tapped the rear of his car and there may have been a small amount of damage, important to note as he may have been compromised on pace due to this.

Data Analysis

Comparison of Lando and Checo’s pace

The first half of the race isn’t as important, the graph is very odd in the middle due to all of the outlier laps caused by the yellow flags, so that is not important. What I want to point out is that Lando was on the same pace as Checo(or slightly better) for those first 6 laps after the race started again when all the yellow flags were done, but after that Checo was faster until the end of the race. Not enough to catch Lando, but enough that Lando would not have been able to pass him if he hadn’t had track position.

Now here is a quick look at Lando and Oscar's pace.

There isn't a ton to dissect here, Lando was faster the entire race, by a pretty big margin on the hards especially. Given that a lot of drivers this race had issues managing deg on the hards I think that second stint gap really came down to tyre management, an area where Oscar is still improving.

Here is a look at their fastest laps to really see where Lando was making those bigger gains and where Oscar was struggling.

One thing that I find interesting is that Oscar's fastest lap had a section of DRS, Lando's didn't and Lando was still a full second faster. Just a really solid lap from Lando all around. His strength in sector 2 is what really gave him an edge all race.

Overall this was Mclaren’s best finish, but their strongest weekend overall so far this season is still Australia(because both drivers had a strong finish not just one)

Penalties and Incidents

Welcome to the “everyone gets a penalty!” section of the analysis. This was a mess to unravel. After reviewing the footage and reading the stewards judgements as well as the driver and teams statements I have come to a lot of the same conclusions as the stewards. 

The middle of this race was a mess. One yellow flag had just ended before another had to be brought out again. 

There were two yellow flags this race, the first after Valtteri DNF'ed and the second due to multiple incidents right after the end of the first yellow flag. 

My biggest critique is that the VSC was deployed weirdly late. They seemed about 10 to 20 seconds off in calling for one, and that is concerning. A driver on the side of the track is at risk, so it’s important to make sure a race is slowed immediately.

Logan: overtook under safety car conditions after the VSC was enacted when Valtteri’s power unit failed. Nico was coming out of the pitlane as Logan was coming down the straight, Nico managed to barely exit in front of Logan, but Logan’s faster momentum into turn 1 put him ahead of Nico, and thus he overtook under a yellow flag. Time penalty and license points is an appropriate penalty. I have no idea why his team didn’t get him to slow down more. They said they missed Nico, which I really don't know how. Lack of track observation. This was a failure of the team as much as it was sloppy on Logan's part. I think he would have slowed more had the team actually noticed this sooner.

Kevin: Kevin made contact with Yuki going out of turn 6 right after the race restart. He broke late and made contact with Yuki’s rear wheel and this led to a tyre puncture. Yuki had to retire from the race. Kevin was clearly at fault here, he failed to brake when catching Yuki.

Daniel: Dani was penalized for overtaking under a yellow flag and a safety car. He did this deliberately because Nico took a place from him and he thought it was okay to take that spot back. However he should have waited for the race to resume under green light conditions before doing that. He knows better. What happened with Nico is a little murky as far as why he took a position and why he did not get penalized. I think it's because it was right before the safety car but the FIA reporting on that isn't clear.

Lance: At turn 14 Lance rear ended Daniel after the first safety car had ended they were waiting on Max to restart the race. Max was leading the race and setting the pace until proper racing speeds could resume. Lance is at fault here, it’s that simple. This was seriously negligent driving on his part. I really have no idea what he was doing but no competent driver does this. I will agree with Oscar in the sentiment that everyone was crowded together, only one person crashed into another car in that scenario. 

“Yes, but not everyone decided to crash into each other.” - Oscar 

Lance argued that it was the concertina effect, and said the stewards should account for that. This is a weak argument at best. The concertina effect is to describe car behavior on track, it isn’t an excuse. Going into a corner a driver who is supposedly one of the best in the world should know how to account for that effect. The fact is that he was going too fast into that corner and not paying attention to the car in front of him.  

Furthermore his lack of accountability and attempts to blame everyone but himself for the incident is not a good look. He is very clearly in the wrong here. I think that the penalty he received might be on the gentle side of things as well. Personally I would have liked to see a 20 second time penalty for that, or a grid penalty. 

I agree with Dani’s statement that Lance should have only been paying attention to the car in front of him. He clearly wasn’t doing that, or at least not well enough. He appears to be looking at Max and Oscar waiting for Max to restart the race. But that is not where he should have been looking. Additionally Dani pointed out that Lance’s speed there was too much, he put half his car under Dani, that’s not the concertina effect, that is going too fast. 

Dani of course is heated, and I feel that for him, he DNF'ed because of the carelessness of another driver through no real fault of his own. I don’t think continuing to argue is good on either side, but he has every right to be mad, especially when the offending driver refuses to admit his fault. Two DNFs in a row is hard for any driver. Lance really cost him a lot. 

This isn’t just sloppy driving on Lance’s part, it's outright negligent.

VCARB

Quick note about VCARB. Dani was on track for his best performance all year this weekend. Which makes the DNF all the more upsetting. Yuki struggled with this track all weekend, seems he was not feeling this track or that car. I will say his performance seems like an anomaly compared with the rest of his season so far so I don’t think it’s cause for concern for future races. 

VCARB as a team were obviously the worst off this weekend with both driver’s DNF'ing at no fault of their own.

Aston Martin

I already covered Lance, so I want to just quickly mention that Fernando was on fire this weekend. He was defending, and had that car in places it really had no business being. His recovery from the close spin, the defending, the overtakes. He really is just continuing to show his skill and experience, and he overall had one of the best drives of the entire race.

Red Bull

Max won the race, and it was a pretty clean race for him, which is amusing due to the utter chaos happening behind him. First time he has won at this track, so that is another track conquered by Max. Well done Max!

Sergio

Checo’s race wasn’t actually that bad. He was comfortably in P2 until Red Bull gave up track position and he wasn’t able to recover the place from Lando. I already compared the pace between those two. But I think it’s pretty clear that he would have been P2 were it not for the pits. If he has position he has the pace to keep the spot. However he does not have the same pace Max has in the RB20 to take lost positions back if the car ahead has similar pace. 

I also want to note here that there were a few corners where it was pointed out that Alpine and Williams were outperforming Ferrari on. However taking a look at the data it wasn’t just Ferrari. Pierre was literally faster than Max in that corner consistently. What this tells me is that something about the unusual grip of this track was not suited to any of the fastest cars. So it’s not a Ferrari problem, or a Red Bull problem, it’s just highlighting an unusual quirk of the track that no one really figured out this weekend.

Here is a fastest lap comparison of Pierre and Max. Obviously Max is the best driver in the best car, so I think this just highlights my point about certain corners especially turns 1, 2, and 3. There was something off there that gave the edge to some midfield cars are far as grip goes. All top cars struggled for speed on those turns and I think it was due to weird track surface conditions.

Final Thoughts

This was the most chaotic race of the season. Hopefully we have a penalty free race next time.

See you when I return with Miami GP analysis!

[melabea]

Miscecubus

(pt: Miscecubus /end pt)

(ids: 2 rectangular flags with 5 equally-sized horizontal lines. colors in order from top to bottom are dark red, red-pink, reddish orange, yellow, and pale yellow. in the center of the flags is a reddish-orange circle with a dark red crescent moon in it. the first flag has a pale yellow 4-pointed diamond under the moon, while the second has a pale yellow heart symbol under it. /end ids)

(ids: 2 rectangular flags with 5 equally-sized horizontal lines. colors in order from top to bottom are dark grey, grey-brown, brown, tan, and white. in the center of the flags is a dark grey circle with a white crescent moon in it. the first flag has a white 4-pointed diamond under the moon, while the second has a white star symbol under it. /end ids)

Miscecubus; a term for verses revolving around concubus/incubus/succubus-like behaviors/beings.

Miscedivine; a term for verses revolving around divine-like behaviors/beings.

etymology; (misce)verse, (con)cubus/divine

symbols from here (link) & here (link)!

for cam!

tagging; @radiomogai, @thecoffeecrew404, @omegarchive, @misceverchive

[omegai]

[ID: two 5 horizontal striped flag, the colors from top bottom are dark grey, light grey, off white, grey-purple, dark-grey purple. The first flag has a circle in the center with a light grey upside down crescent moon at the top and a black silhouette of a crow at the bottom. the second flag is blank. /end ID]

Miscecorvus : a misceverse term for corvids ; verses based in corvid-like behaviors.

[pt: miscecorvus]

tags: @gravecoric @omegarchive @radiomogai @liviary

[ID: two 5 horizontal striped flag, the colors from top bottom are dark grey, light grey, off white, grey-purple, dark-grey purple. They both have a circle in the center, the first flag has a yellow upside down crescent moon at the top and a 4 pointed golden star at the bottom, the second flag is the same expect the symbol is all white. /end ID]

couple extra variants!

[bimboficationblues]

as that anon message you got shows, the term "liberal" gets hurled around a lot as an insult on the left. what would you say are the necessary and sufficient conditions to be a liberal? i think having a straight answer for this would help remedy this sort of behavior

not sure what anon you're referring to. regrettably I don't think you're going to get people to stop using terms in loose or disagreeable ways no matter what, it just is the nature of political terminology (definitionally up for contestation) and language in general. part of the difficulty here is that the same term gets used to describe a political system, an ideology or hegemonic worldview, and a form of political identification

but as far as necessary/sufficient conditions go I like Charles Mills' formulation:

an axiology: committed to individual freedom to pursue the Good, governance by 'consent', the guarantee of specific political and economic rights (non-exhaustive list)

a social ontology: equal moral persons who are atomized or individualized and whose individuality, particularly their self-interested pursuit of their own Good, makes a functional society

a theory of history: endless progress, the accumulation of knowledge and the application of it to advancing human well-being (though this can be more or less Panglossian)

and would add a couple of my own:

a political methodology that gives priority to reform and positive law

an economic worldview that emphasizes the efficiency of money and markets and affirms private property as a central right (often *the* central right)

my own sort of working definition of liberalism writ large is that it's a kind of aristocratic legalism which has a key value of "security" (this is inspired by the work of Geoff Mann and Mark Neocleous), an investment in predictable, consistent outcomes that also expresses itself as a fundamental anxiety about the tenuousness of these institutions and of "civilization" as a whole (an interesting point of overlap between Keynes and Hayek). that's what I kind of see as the throughline between the combination of money, markets, law, and reform.

I would say that the elements listed above which automatically send up the yellow flag, for me, are the political methodology and the theory of history - either a sort of blinkered optimism/false realism about the ability to endlessly patch up our existing institutions or someone who has bought into a kind of linear historical narrative of constant improvement

even though I am not a market socialist and think that is probably excessively "liberal" for my own tastes, I think it is plausible to hold that position without being a liberal, if that makes any sense (it may not). inversely, the axiology of freedom, universalism, &c., often get cited as exclusive to liberalism, but I really don't think they are and remain unpersuaded by the various factions (commie, lib, postcolonialist, and so on) that have argued otherwise. not that I think ideas of freedom, equality, etc. are above conceptual critique per se, but I think I wouldn't assume somebody is a lib because they truck in that language.

[the-masquerade-council]

Trauma Manifestation(left) and Memory Manifestation(right)

Roles in which an alter in way some serve as a manifestation of trauma/specific memories, this usually but not always has to do with their internal appearance or their behavior. The manifestations can literal or metaphorical in nature. This can be for example an alter who's appearance changed to be more "scary" after the system realized a certain memory was traumatic.

Trauma/memory manifestation are often holders as well, though they don't have to be. It's a role that can be used in combination with any other roles.

The colors are mostly just based of the trauma and memory holder flags, but changed a bit and with the addition of yellow. As yellow can be both a color of warning and of insight

[silentreigns]

No safety cars, no yellow flags, no nothing. The drivers are on their best behavior now because of woke. And also Mercedes gave Lewis a strategy that left him in no man's land, despite out qualifying George for once. Top 3 worst races this year!

[the-garden-mud-blog]

hi! could you coin a disorder that’s characterized by only feeling happy when one’s listening to music? thank you!

Disorder Name: Harmonic Happiness Syndrome (HHS)

Description:

HHS is a psychological condition characterized by a pervasive dependence on music for emotional well-being. Individuals with HHS experience intense happiness and emotional stability primarily when listening to music, to the exclusion of other sources of joy or contentment.

Symptoms:

Music-Dependent Happiness: Individuals with HHS feel a profound sense of happiness and emotional upliftment exclusively when listening to music, regardless of genre or style.

Emotional Dependency: They become emotionally reliant on music to regulate mood and cope with daily stressors, often feeling incomplete or empty without music playing.

Mood Instability: Outside of music listening sessions, individuals may experience emotional instability, fluctuating between periods of low mood or apathy.

Withdrawal Symptoms: Abrupt pause of music listening can lead to withdrawal-like symptoms, including irritability, restlessness, or anxiety.

Social Isolation: Preference for solitary activities involving music over social interactions, leading to reduced social engagement and interpersonal relationships.

Impaired Concentration: Difficulty focusing on tasks or responsibilities when not listening to music, leading to decreased productivity.

Obsessive Behavior: Obsessive thoughts about music, such as constant seeking of new music, organizing playlists meticulously, or attending concerts frequently.

For the flag: (Anyone is welcome to create a flag, alt flags, or TransID versions of the MUD all we ask is please @ us if you make one) Color Theme: The color theme for Harmonic Happiness Syndrome is a spectrum of vibrant, musical colors like rhythmic blues, energetic yellows, and soothing greens. These colors symbolize the emotional spectrum and the diverse genres of music that bring happiness to individuals with HHS. Visual Representation: A visual depiction of HHS would feature a figure immersed in musical notes and symbols swirling around them. The figure could be shown with headphones on, experiencing a serene and blissful expression while listening to music. The background could incorporate elements representing various musical genres showing the emotional fulfillment through music. The colors could transition from calming greens to vibrant blues and energetic yellows, mirroring the emotional journey and intensity experienced during musical moments for those with HHS.

I'm obsessed with these MUD's!!!!! gonna become a MUD hoarder at this rate XD

-Nina