#his lisp... my most beloved

[mvp114]

[220823]

Max in Red Bull's newest video: This Is Oracle Red Bull Racing's F1 2023 So Far...

"12 races run, 12 races won"

[d3cay1ngst4tic]

contents. suguru geto x gn!reader. obsessive themes. grotesque imagery (<- as always). dark undertones to worship. they’re both equally sick in the head LMFAO.

★ jiah’s notes. so i’m very normal about this. NAE. kisses your knuckles you are soooo smart. i hope you don’t mind me adding my own brainvomit to this well.

deity!suguru, who only ever lets you worship him. treats others like dirt under his feet who deserve nothing but to be scrapped off completely for being utterly, unbearably foolish. you, on the other hand? he’d let you braid flowers in his hair if you asked.

deity!suguru, who finds it amusing how eager you are to take care of him. you can barely keep track of your own meals, yet here you are, tasting each and every fruit to check if they’re sweet or not, only then handing it to him. (<- he doesn't mind how your marks fill the sickly sweetness like some sort of careless claim over him.)

deity!suguru, who revels in your devotion. you’re like a dog who always comes back with a wagging tail, teeth closed ’round shattered bones, with devout eyes which glaze over when a praise or two slips from his cooing lips. oh how he loves the fact that even though his hands reek of blood, you nuzzle into them like something too rapturous to touch— how his divinity is all you see, leaving out the sharp, cracked edges for the other commons to gape and run away from.

deity!suguru, who says nothing but gaze down at you with a sardonic smile when you kiss his knees with bloody lips and hushed prayers on your tongue. he’d said the earlier words with a careless lisp, that even though you’re his most beloved worshipper, you wouldn’t dare kill for him. but here you are, dropping the one he’d wanted dead like some sort of twisted prize at his feet, tilting your head up to look at him with wobbly lips and a burning fidelity in your touch that didn’t flicker once.

deity!suguru, who only ever gives you his blessings— placing his hand on your hair and smoothening out the tangles that’ve built over in your utterly devoted haze, murmuring sweet little nothings into your ears and filling your head with soft, condescending promises. he finds it amusing how your eyes never light up when he blesses you, almost as if you’re hurt by the faintest possibility of wanting something in return— as if the greatest gift that you could ever attain is his holy presence, and nothing else. (he blesses you because you’re the only one who doesn’t crave it.)

deity!suguru, who only sleeps with his head on your lap. your frail fingers run through his hair— he’d never let anyone else touch them— eyes wide in awe, betraying the exhaustion that clings to your bones. he adores it, he really does— the way you look at him as though he’s this unspeakable, unattainable treasure— like a mere whisper of his purity will give you all the salvation you need. (he loves the crippled reverence that stains your hands red.)

deity!suguru, who loves that you always have some sort of excuse for his actions. like he could never do wrong in your eyes. such a naïve little lamb you are, licking the blood off his teeth even though you cough and splutter from the burn in your chest, (choosing to be blind to the fact that it’s not his but someone else’s.)

deity!suguru, who alters your fate without you knowing, so you’d have to worship him in every lifetime. who said gods couldn’t be corrupted? and he’s a little greedy like that— greedy for the reverence you bring that’s a tad bit rough ’round the edges, greedy for your hands on his face when you praise him for the tales of nobility that’d never existed in the first place, greedy for how you tuck your head under his chin and shiver from the overwhelming serenity of his being. he thinks he’ll die if he doesn’t get to be your god all over again.

deity!suguru, who loves, loves being the ache between your bones and the fatal light-headedness of your innocence. <3

original idea by @sugurusladyknightt . added on by @d3cay1ngst4tic. do not copy or post any of my works.

[a-bottle-of-tyelenol]

agere odysseus headcanons !!

— art by duvetbox —

— requested by anon —

— cw: trauma & allusions to sa (it’s marked) —

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

🎀 - odysseus is a flip that has been regressing from a really young age. being crowned king at thirteen years old was extremely stressful for him and he regressed to cope with the sudden responsibilities and maturity thrust upon him— a coping mechanism that turned more and more into a trauma response as he got older and was faced with his experiences during the war and his travels back home. he’s had so many caregivers over the years, spanning from his mother (who took care of him when he was a child), penelope (who learned of his regression not long after he started courting her), polites (who had taken care of him throughout the war), hermes (who never strays far from his kin), and athena (who he had a very rocky relationship with, in part due to his regression). and if you like the iliad, I like to think of diomedes and menelaus as his babysitters 🥺

of these caregivers, odysseus never really commits to giving them any titles. for the most part, he speaks fairly formally and normal, even at his smallest, but he calls athena ‘momma’ when he’s really little and gives everyone else some kind of nickname. with penelope, he does that thing that kids do when they hear their parents use pet names for each other and then uses those same pet names instead of parental titles (like a toddler calling their father ‘sweetheart’ because that’s what their mother calls him), but it’s the pet names that Penelope calls him instead. so she likes to call him her little love and darling, so he responds by calling her (and telemachus!) the same thing with a lisp that she thinks is so cute. idk if that makes ANY sense but it’s adorable in my head okay

🩷 - as a caregiver, odysseus is very in tune with a little’s needs. he’s very good at playing pretend and is actually very well beloved by kids because of how charming he can be. before he left ithaca, he used to carve toys for the island’s children and that’s a habit he never stopped for the regressors he comes across. despite how easy it is for him to handle kids, it makes him incredibly uncomfortable because he’s convinced that the years of fighting and time away from his son has diminished any possibility he had of being a good father. he holds a lot of guilt for the kids that fell victim to war, particularly the ones he had a hand in dealing with, and so he often tries to avoid being anything more than a babysitter for someone because he can’t fathom the idea that he’s a good option for a caretaker.

🎀 - odysseus’ age range changes greatly with context and need. if he’s with another regressor, he will almost always be older than them to lead and take care of them; an instinct driven in him as king, captain, and an older brother. if he’s relatively okay and able to enjoy his regression (which is pretty rare), he’s still on the older side (around 6-10), and if he’s regressing because he’s triggered or upset, he goes much lower in order to process the extreme amount of trauma he goes through. he has a lot of trauma responses— including flashbacks, bouts of dissociation, and nightmares. he often regresses in tandem with these experiences and it leads to his smallness being directly linked to his fear, which is partly why he gets so young. he is pretty good at holding himself together when he’s around other people, but as soon as he’s alone, it’s very common for him to collapse into the meltdown of a terrified child. this means that he never really enjoys his regression and spends the entire time crying, sleeping, or making a mess of himself.

🩷 - ody believes that the best way to care for a kiddo is to run them absolutely exhausted. he’s a very physical caregiver. you’re throwing a fit? let’s go outside and herd the dozens of goats trampling ithaca. you’ve got the giggles? let’s chase all the hunting dogs and get that energy out. you’re feeling antsy? let’s teach you how to chop firewood. you can’t go down for a nap? well, an hour or two of jumping into the ocean will wipe you out. of course, he won’t just send you off to do it alone— he’s always one step behind, ready to put in some work himself even as he gets older and more run down. he thinks that kids should never be quiet and the idea of one sitting down to silently play with toys or do art is a travesty (unless, of course, that’s what the regressor wants to do. if they’d prefer being inside and having some quiet time, he’ll make sure they know that’s okay. he refuses to ever make a baby think of themselves as a burden to him).

🎀 - his favorite things while regressed are magic and games, which is partially why he loves being watched by hermes. the literal god of games AND a divine being that doesn’t mind using his most extravagant forms of magic to entertain a baby? absolutely incredible. his favorite game is knucklebones, or anything with dice really. he’s a tiny gambler in the making and nothing catches his attention like the chance of winning big on a roll. he’s a lot less active when he’s small— preferring not to partake in more physical games like tag— but he likes hide and seek or playing some form of spy (sneaking around and trying not to get caught as he smuggles snacks back to his quarters). and if you can combine magic AND games? oh, he’s sold. one time, hermes used some illusionary magic to form a bunch of little animal statues for ody for search for and collect like a scavenger hunt and, for every statue he found, the animal would come to life and disappear into the air. he lost his mind and spent an hour babbling about it to anyone who would listen.

🩷 - he’s extremely protective as a caregiver and also the coolest person ever to be one because he really doesn’t care that much for rules. these two qualities often combine in really interesting ways— like he won’t let a little touch a weapon, but he will use that weapon in increasingly mischievous ways if it makes them smile. one time, telemachus was quite small and really wanted to play with his father’s bow. odysseus, of course, told him that he was too small but that he was more than willing to show telemachus how it worked, which resulted in odysseus borderline harassing a bunch of chickens by shooting arrows and purposefully missing them by an inch. when their handler realized what his king was doing, odysseus responded by asking the handler to stand still so he could start raining arrows around him. you remember that scene in the lion king when mufasa was teaching simba how to pounce on zazu? yeah, that’s how odysseus is with everything.

(Cw: calypso and vague allusions to SA)

🎀 - odysseus is very nervous when regressed and is scared by just about everything. more specifically, he’s terrified of thunderstorms (for obvious reasons) and he is equally really unnerved and yet particularly comforted by women. he loves being cared for by women— there’s something so much less intimidating and safe about them after years of watching men slaughter each other. he’s very much drawn to the likes of penelope over any masculine caregivers. but! that being said, women make him nervous in a very different way than men do. with men, he’s spent thirteen years being surrounded by them and he knows what they do and who they are. he can defend himself against them, and he has before. but with women, all he can think about is what happened on calypso’s island, when he was frozen and unable to fight back against her, and how scared and abandoned he felt by athena, someone that had been his protector for so many years. he hates how these experiences corrupted the safety that he associated with a softer touch, especially when that touch was primarily his mother and the love of his life before he went to war. he craves time with penelope, but he trembles at the idea of her touching him. he craves time with athena, but weeps at the prospect of her leaving once again. it takes him a lot time before he can start to relax around them while regressed and both of them are very kind and patient with him.

(Cw: over)

🩷 - just like he’s very big on tiring littles out, odysseus is a nap guy. his solution to everything is to take a nap. he is genuinely just so exhausted and tired all the time and nothing feels better than curling up with a baby in his arms. he is such a family man and he loves being a father so much. if he hadn’t gone to war, he and penelope would’ve had so many little ones running around the castle and napping on every surface with him (all girls because the curse of his family is to have one boy per generation lol and telemachus would thrive having, like, six little sisters). as is, he fills that hole in his heart with taking care of his son and any other regressors he comes across, inviting them into his sacred nap time and catching up on some very well deserved rest.

[rainbow-squirrels-7]

Hawk’s PMD teams masterpost:

Thanks to @flutterclouds for inspiring this (they sent in a few asks about my guys)! Anybody reading, feel free to ask me about my teams as well, for more info that isn’t provided under the cut!

Check out #hawks teams for more art of everybody!

Red Rescue Team

Team Go-Getters

Greenley (Cyndaquil, Hero) (he/him)

Cecil (Pikachu, Partner) (he/him)

Originally unnamed in my first GBA file of PMD RRT. I also wanted Torchic my first time playing the game, but I tried the quiz for what felt like hours and couldn’t get it so I settled for Cyndaquil

Named Go-Getters after the adorable anime episode

Both of them are troublemakers but their hearts are in the right place

Next to Team Ruby, they’re probably (in-universe) the strongest out of my teams

Greenley eventually evolves into Quilava but not Typhlosion. Cecil doesn’t evolve

Explorers of Time

Team Sapphire

Eugene (Piplup, Hero) (he/him)

Jessibelle (Pikachu, Partner) (she/her)

Originally unnamed and were Team Poképals

Eugene is actually an adult (perhaps 30+ as a human in the future) rather than a child or teen. Jessibelle becomes more of a daughter figure (still best friends obv) over the course of their adventure

Jessibelle has a big straw hat with a big bow that she wears at the beach. That’s her favorite place and she loves to look for sea glass

Eugene definitely pulled a “don’t you touch my DAUGHTER!” during the final Dusknoir fight and surprised himself and everyone else

Jess called Eugene ‘dad’ just as he was disappearing

Explorers of Sky

Team Ruby

Cassandra (Eevee [Sylveon], Hero) (trans female, she/her)

Katya (Vulpix, Partner) (she/her)

Originally unnamed. Do not remember their original team name

Katya was originally the Hero in my first EoS game, but I played through what’s out of the rom hack Seven Symphonies and played as Cassandra (as a Sylveon) and wanted to make Cass the leader

In my first EoS file, they got to level 100, along with their beloved Shaymin teammate

They’re so in love you guys

Cassandra was male as a human and upon turning into an Eevee, discovered that she doesn’t think of herself as male and transitioned

Darkest Before the Dawn

Team Emerald

Cinder (Eevee, Hero) (she/her)

Percy (Riolu, Partner) (he/him)

The team I draw the most

Percy never showed up in DBtD, so his personality wasn’t really explored. He’s kind of reserved and shy. He’s very much in love with Cinder but Cinder is hopelessly oblivious (she’ll figure it out)

Cinder is an ADHD queen

Cinder’s tail is slightly thinner than Cassandra’s and Celeste’s (whoa all my Eevees have C names) and she has more muted colors compared to other Eevees

various YouTube videos

Team Song

Valentina (Torchic, Hero) (she/her)

Celeste (Eevee, Partner) (she/her)

I’ve never actually played a game with them, they’re just who I draw for any PMD PMVs I make

They have no set colors

Gates to Infinity

The Hope

Echo (Axew, Hero) (she/her)

Seth (Oshawott, Partner) (he/him)

Echo is a huge nerd

Seth is himbo extraordinaire. He’s clumsy and impulsive but very loveable

Echo speaks with a lisp due to her tusks and also occasionally gets migraines

They have thicker scarves than the rest of my teams cuz the Mist Continent is chilly

Super Mystery Dungeon

The Forever

Ember (Torchic, Hero) (she/her)

Sage (Bulbasaur, Partner) (any)

I believe this was their team name

They are the embodiment of tall and lean and short and squart

Sage keeps art supplies in their bulb

Ember doesn’t talk much, especially compared my other Heroes

[emi-goes-the-distance]

⚡️ Some Hercules Headcanons! ⚡️

•

•

Herc has four siblings.

Oldest to youngest:

- Athena

- Ares

- Eileithyia

- Hebe

- Hercules

He is the baby of the family and his older siblings are VERY protective of him.

-

He is bisexual with a slight preference towards girls.

-

Herc and Adonis actually dated briefly (like a year or some months before the show’s events). Like the self-centered snob he is, Adonis just couldn’t help but flirt with every girl he meant. Not only that, Herc’s clumsiness embarrassed Adonis. This caused a big stir in his and Hercules’ relationship, and eventually led to their messy breakup and rivalry.

-

Herc has had a couple other boyfriends in the past, his most special one being Hylas. But nonetheless, Meg is his true love! (She’s bi too).

-

Hercules has a bunch of freckles. He used to be very insecure of them when he was younger, but Alcmene and Amphityon would always tell him he was perfect just how he was!

Meg loves his freckles too!

-

Herc has always been a hopeless romantic, dreaming that he’ll find someone who will love him for who he is and despite his flaws.

-

Before he started his journey to become a hero, he was interested in getting into theatre. (Theatre kid Herc my beloved).

-

In a modern AU, Hercules would be a jock, theatre, and choir kid. He has a bunch on his hands, but he likes to keep himself busy.

He also would be very close with Ariel. They have their own little special nicknames for each other (Hercie and Ari). Cousins gotta stick together!

-

He is an age regressor. Everyone he’s close to is very supportive of him. (Although, I imagine some townsfolk would be confused by the fact their great hero has a childish side to him.)

If anyone were to complain, Meg won’t hesitate to fight someone. No one insults her baby!

-

Icarus and Cassandra are also very supportive of Herc’s regression. They’re great substitute caregivers if Meg, Phil, or Pegasus aren’t around to help him.

Icarus is especially good at keeping Hercules entertained while he’s regressed. He always has Herc laughing hysterically and clapping his hands.

-

Little Herc also loves it whenever someone kisses his cheek or forehead. Whether it’s from Meg or one of his moms, he loves receiving cheek and forehead kisses!

-

Hercules gets lost very easily, he cannot be trusted on his own.

-

Herc has a lisp when he speaks Greek (It’s canon, listen to the Greek dub of Go The Distance).

-

The Gods spoil Hercules rotten. It doesn’t matter how old he is, they will spoil him.

The Muses specifically love to spoil Herc, and they always give him the sweetest pet names. They also see him as their baby brother and will treat him as such.

•

•

⚡️

[sincerelylancelot]

If you could see em' now (you'd be proud), beloved brau <3

bull riding au, my beloved, mine and @mvlionheart's love. This is a soft little snippet that I thought of just to show the way these boys are with eachother

----

He’s still not used to it.

Lance wakes up warm, overheated from the press of skin against his back. Max’s arm is draped over his waist, his hand resting on Liam’s hip where Lance is curled around him, face tucked into the line of his shoulder.

There’s a crook in Lance’s neck, and he can’t feel his arm where Liam has been sleeping on it.

It’s far from the best night’s sleep he’s ever had, but a deep, simmering well of contentment has settled in his chest. He breathes deep, taking in the scent of laundry detergent and the expensive shampoo Liam insists on restocking his bathroom with.

Lance isn’t much of a connoisseur of fragrances, but it reminds him of springtime and that one perfume his mom used to wear on Sundays.

Against his better judgment, he begins to untangle himself from the mess of limbs that are Max and Liam when they sleep, knowing that no matter how much he wiggles or shifts, their snores will continue. Max is too deep a sleeper to care, and Liam is too much of a bed hog to do anything but open one eye, look at him, then roll over and bury himself into Max’s chest like two pieces of the same puzzle.

Lance leaves them like that as he pads out of the lodge’s master bedroom. The floor is chilled under his bare feet, so he makes a detour to the laundry room to rifle around for socks, eventually coming up with a pair of fluffy, grip-bottomed bed socks decorated with cowboys. Liam had bought them for him after learning just how cold Montreal actually got.

The fire from the night before has simmered down to embers in the hearth, so he throws in a few logs and a fire starter, giving it a poke to make sure the flames catch before heading to the kitchen.

He’s halfway through frying up three stacks of chocolate chip pancakes when Liam shuffles into the kitchen. He bumbles up to Lance’s side, knocking his head against his shoulder in a silent request; one that Lance satisfies with a kiss to his hair.

“There’s coffee on the side,” Lance murmurs. His voice soft as not to startle Liam’s sleep softened ears. 

Liam makes a soft, pleased hum in response, his version of gratitude, before grabbing the two still-steaming mugs from the counter and shuffling back out of the room.

The house is quiet save for the radio and the soft sound of Lance humming as he finishes breakfast, adding two fried eggs to his plate, eggs and bacon to Max’s plate and strawberries to Liam’s.

“An authentic Lance breakfast. I’ve missed these,” Max says, his lisped candor making Lance roll his eyes.

Lance turns on his heel to find Max, now dressed comfortably for the day, and Liam, still rumpled from sleep in his pajamas, scrolling through his phone at the kitchen island.

“One of us has to know how to cook, or we’d be living off cruskets and Pop-Tarts.” 

“A perfectly balanced meal, if you ask me,” Liam retorts, barely looking up until Lance pushes a plate under his nose. He cuts the side of one of the pancakes with his fork and holds it out. Liam opens his mouth obediently, accepting the bite.

He hums, chewing, eyes fluttering closed for a moment in delight.

“I think I love you.”

A pin could drop in the pause that follows. Max looks hard at the side of Lance’s face as though waiting for a reaction as Liam flushed, a pretty pink across his freckles. 

It’s not their first admission, but it’s the most casual they’ve ever been about throwing around love without some grand gesture to accompany it. The words send Lance’s heart rate spiking, but he just smiles, teeth showing, lines creasing his cheeks.

“It’s a good thing I love you too, then, huh?”

He tries to sound casual as he stabs into one of his eggs, watching the yolk spill lazily across his plate, pretending his hands aren’t suddenly a little unsteady.

[sock-n-roll]

KINDCEMBER DAY ONE!!!

Hi I saw this thing that @theinfamousmaybelle (I HOPE ITS OKAY I TAGGED YOU) was doing about saying something nice about each of the characters in TSBS on your list every day in December and I wanted to join!!!

EARTH!!!! You all I cannot tell you how much I absolutely ADORE Earth. I went on an angry tangent in my last post so I'm trying to make this lighter and nice >:3

Earth is first and foremost so so p r e t t y (/p)

Like every piece of fanart I have ever seen about her is just absolutely stunning. She looks like a freaking model and she is so gorgeous. Especially like, human fanart where they make her BIPOC with Vitiligo? SO PRETTY. Her model is so pretty too, I love all of her outfits, they're honestly how I dress some days so it's so silly to put on a outfit and be like OMG I LOOK LIKE EARTH /POS

Her voice is so sweet and comforting to me, especially as a kid growing up with a lisp seeing characters who have one is so amazing to me. While hers has faded a bit throughout Earth's changes as a character, she's still such an icon and definitely someone who makes me feel less self conscious about my own voice.

Now onto her character itself

GRAHHHHH /VVPOS

Earth's lore is so so incredible. I'm still working on getting through it all, because i'm getting back into this fandom after quite a while. I don't know most of her original lore but I'm mostly up to date on the current lore.

Earth is such an amazing representation of so many issues, especially the issues of daughters in families with generational trauma. (Coming from a AFAB in a family with similar issues. Minus the magic. and the murder.)

Earth's need to please her father goes on for so long, until she finally realizes that he didn't even *want* her. He never cared about her, he just wanted something from her. and Oh My Gods that hurt.

(Can you tell I kin her yet)

Earth tries to help everyone, she acts as a therapist for so long, helping even people who have hurt her and her family with their issues from a view as unbiased as she can get. She tries to help lunar, even when he's being an absolute DICK, and that ends with her getting hurt, but she is trying her best. She tries to support her brothers, giving her own time and energy to caring for Sun when nearly everyone else leaves. She takes so much onto her back and puts so much pressure on herself because nobody else is doing it.

Her relationships with other characters is so amazing too because like. Her and Monty? SO WHOLESOME I LOVE THEM SO MUCH.

Monty and Earth are both traumatized, they both have issues, but she is still there for them, and vice versa. They both support and care for each other, raising their daughter together (daisy the iconic bunny).

Earth is still kind and gentle with Eclipse, calling him her friend and trying her very best to get him to open up to her.

Earth and Sun are probably the closest, with the two of them taking turns supporting each other as they need. They're both very broken, and are the ones struggling with Nexus's death the most, but they're sticking together through it.

Earth and Moon are so silly together and I love them, Moon is so gentle with her, even when it isn't really in his nature, but he's trying to be his best for her because he knows that she deserves that.

Solar feels like the oldest of the brothers, and Earth definitely looks up to him which is so sweet. He may have issues with his own emotions and portraying them, but he does care about her, and she knows that.

Earth and Lunar may have their issues now, but as a pair they are such an adorable sibling dynamic. They play games together and Earth supports him just like she does everyone else, even when lunar is struggling and pulling away from her, because at their base they are still siblings and they will still be there for each other. And lunar describes her as the most important person to them.

Earth and Nebula my beloved. We don't get to see a lot of them, I imagine it's hard as fuck playing two different characters talking to each other, especially with such different personalities, but Kat does it so well! Nebula is the type where you can tell she hasn't had many, if any friends. She seems to get talked down to by a lot of the Astrals, just a tool to go do tasks for Taurus and Aries (I think?). But here's Earth who welcomes her into her life and invites her to hang out, tries to get her to open up, on her own time, doesn't pressure her, it's so so amazing.

Earth with her Niece and Nephew is so cute, she's made to be a caretaker so seeing her with Jack and Dazzle is adorable because Dazzle looks up to her as another girl in the family, I love imagining Earth doing Dazzle's hair and getting her all dressed up, getting to do like. Basic Girl things. Because regardless of gender stereotypes, Dazzle having another girl in the family is so important. Dazzle is at her core a pretty feminine person, she likes dress up and playing games and she's so precious, she reminds me of myself a lot as a kid. And of course she also knows how to make a rusty nail gun with Jack and she likes playing in the mud and doing things that aren't "Girly" by sexist stereotypes, but having another girl in the family she can look up to and do those things with? So adorable. I love them <33333

Earth in general is such an amazing character and as a person who struggles a lot with balancing femininity and masculinity as a genderfluid person, having fem rep in a fandom I love as much as LAES is so so amazing. She's such a girlboss and she has physically punched a god (by his permission but still) actually pushing him around, which people don't talk about enough I think.

She deserves none of the hate she gets because she is such a beautiful example of PTSD, being a daughter, being a victim of manipulation and @\bus3, chronic pain, mental illness, healthy communication and relationships, and doing what you love.

Earth Deserves Better.

(I may not be able to do all of the kindcember prompts but I'm going to try because I really want to and this feels really important to me! Go check out the person I tagged at the top of the post if you wanna join and see the prompts! And support the TSBS VA's!!!)

[faerghusfucker]

ask box game! i choose ashe!

6, 8, 9, 10, 11, 17, 18, 21, 22, 29, 32, 34

i'm sorry, i just really love ashe!

so i’ve already answered 21 and 34 for ashe (check pinned post) but i will gladly answer the others!

6- hair

i think ashe’s hair grows super slow. like, during the timeskip he didn’t need to cut it. it just grew in like that. also it’s rlly thick and fluffy i think. you’ve gotta WORK to get a brush through it

8- smell/personal scent

i think ashe smells like whatever he’s cooked last. or like, woodsy. he doesn’t wear cologne or anything, i don’t think he cares super much about his specific smell beyond basic hygiene

9- clothes and habits of dress

my hc is that most of ashe’s clothes are christophe’s hand-me-downs, so he never rlly got an opportunity to develop his own sense of style. he doesn’t mind tho, he likes christophe’s stuff.

10- posture/physicality/movement

he’s a speedy boy!!!! ashe is a CRAZY runner. if garreg mach had a track team he would be the star. little aerodynamic man.

11- hobbies and interests

we know ashe loves cooking and gardening, but i also think he’s a lil nerd who loves BIRDWATCHING. he’s read a few books on birds and he likes to sit outside and look for them and identify them.

17- personal sense of style and decor

i think ashe doesn’t care much for aesthetics. like, his space still looks nice, but it’s not particularly cultivated and he doesn’t rlly have an aesthetic. his decorations are all sentimental, or just whatever plants he happens to have growing

18- beloved or important items or property

i think he has a spur from christophe like how felix has from glenn :3

22- favorite things

i’m not rlly sure what this question is lmao? uhhhh i think ashe’s favorite things like Ever On Earth are books. he obviously rlly values his literacy and the things that it helped him achieve

29- quirks and personal habits

i am a man who enjoys projecting on my faves and so i’ve assigned both my stutter and my lisp to ashe :3 my sweet son with his speech impediments. also he purses his lips when he’s thinking

32- toxic traits

i think ashe is non confrontational to a fault. when it comes to his friends, he’s too afraid to rock the boat and so he ends up accepting behaviors that he really shouldn’t and letting resentment fester for too long. i can see this happening with sylvain a lot, judging by their support chain in houses

thank you for the ask!!!!!

[pogirosary]

“ And the name of the virgin was Mary. " (St. Luke 1:27)

In this simple phrase, St. Luke sums up the greatness of Mary, as epitomized in her holy name. The name of Mary was chosen by the Almighty God for the masterpiece of His creation, the Mother of His Divine Son, and was revealed to Sts. Anne and Joachim, Mary's parents by the Angel Gabriel.

The feast in Honor of Holy Name of the Blessed Virgin Mary originated in Spain and was approved by the Holy See in 1513. Pope Innocent XI extended its observance to the whole Church in 1683 in thanksgiving to our Lady for the victory on September 12, 1683, by John Sobieski, king of Poland, over the Turks, who besieged Vienna.

The Council of Ephesus in 431 taught that the Blessed Virgin Mary was properly called the "Mother of God" or "God-Bearer" (Theotokos). By the sixth century, the angelic greeting in Luke 1:28 was commonly used as a prayer, "Hail, Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with you!" By the fourteenth century, the second part of the Hail Mary prayer was often used in conjunction, "Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death." In the sixteenth century, the Council of Trent, in its catechism, formally recommended this entire prayer, as we have it today, to the faithful.

St. Louis de Montfort said, "The whole world is filled with her glory, and this is especially true of Christian peoples, who have chosen her as guardian and protectress of kingdoms, provinces, dioceses, and towns. Many cathedrals are consecrated to God in her name. There is no church without an altar dedicated to her, no country or region without at least one of her miraculous images where all kinds of afflictions are cured and all sorts of benefits received. Many are the confraternities and associations honoring her as patron; many are the orders under her name and protection; many are the members of sodalities and religious of all congregations who voice her praises and make known her compassion. There is not a child who does not praise her by lisping a 'Hail Mary.' There is scarcely a sinner, however, hardened, who does not possess some spark of confidence in her. The very devils in hell, while fearing her, show her respect."

Prayer in Honor of the Name of Mary by St. Alphonsus de Ligouri

O great Mother of God and my Mother Mary, it is true that I am unworthy to name thee; but thou, who lovest me and desirest my salvation, must, notwithstanding the impurity of my tongue, grant that I may always invoke thy most holy and powerful name in my aid, for thy name is the succor of the living, and the salvation of the dying. Ah, most pure Mary, most sweet Mary, grant that henceforth thy name may be the breath of my life. O Lady, delay not to help me when I invoke thee, for in all the temptations which assail me, and in all my wants, I will never cease calling upon thee, and repeating again and again, Mary, Mary. Thus it is that I hope to act during my life, and more particularly at death, that after that last struggle, I may eternally praise thy beloved name in heaven, O clement, O pious, O sweet Virgin Mary. Amen.

[dimension20npcofalltime]

My Favourite Tags of Round One

#i dont know who tom thumb is#sorry to this man#but gilear deserves this

#Gilear is literally the NPC#the bad kids saw a sopping wet pathetic man (derogatory) and said can we keep him#brennan tried to kill him at every opportunity but this man is somehow still alive#his stats are terrible#he has like 5 hp#he loves yogurt#lou chanted big money no gilears one time#gilear faeth for the win

#shes always pissing

#that lunatic is after fabian and will shit in his mouth

#im so sorry Primsy#but Chungledown bim holes a special place in my heart#and my mouth

#laertes has to win#hes the first npc shit himself on screen

#wuvvy sweep bc god forbid women cause problems in public for her beloved friend

#PLEASE VOTE WUVVY. MORALLY GRAY GIRLBOSS OF ALL TIME

#everyone who voted pizza rat over jessa is a liar and a coward

#aelwyn is so my older sister to me

#everyone give it up for the most stylish of homies#john feathers

#why you gotta pit two bad bitches against each other

#lesbians get in here

#LESBIANS PLEASE. GET IN HERE AND VOTE CITRINA

#LESBIANS WE STILL HAVE TIME TO MAKE THIS A CITRINASWEEP

#YES LESBIANS YES!!!!! WE’RE DOING IT!!!!!!#KEEP VOTING CITRINA I LOVE YOU ALL THANK YOU

#ylfa: join us I like your hat#orange fairy: it’s your hat now I’mma die kthxbai

#I love cats but I love Ayda more

#BELIZABETH BC SHES A GAY ICON (to ME)

#no disrespect to the sentient basketball but LETS GO LESBIANS

#ragh <3 he’s just a guy <3 and he’s GAY

#voting plug for the pure mechanical achievement of believably putting a kooky old wizard in a scifi setting

#wow nobody watched coffin run huh?#like i get that plug is very funny but dimitri is just a pile of absurdities#hes a bat in a sailor costume with a lisp and he is so hagard from flying constantly for his job that he has a starbucks half his scenes#wven tho as mentioned he is terrible at said job and almost intentionally does it wrong??

#i get it plug is funny but hes literally an anthropomorphic bat in a sailors boy outfit with a lisp who drinks starbucks

#NO SONDHEIM#STEPHEN SONDHEIM IS ONE OF THE BEST GAGS AND NPCS IN D20 I LOVE ZELDA TOO BUT COMEON GUYS SONDHEIM

#i emotionally need stephen sondheim to sweep#pls can we get a stephen sondheim sweep

[margaret-the-sylvia]

Well, I'm back.

After a couple weeks of college classes, I'm finally on spring break! Hopefully you'll see more stuff soon. Video dropped yesterday, but I went to bed early so I missed the premiere. So the video is composed of alternate/unused voice lines for the first Nebula & Quasar game. (Just for the PC version.)

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

IMPORTANT UPDATE: plasmapunk2001 has confirmed the names of the clone versions of Nebula and Quasar. It’s Venex and Nernex!

So we finally have names for two new characters. The wasp/bee character is named "Queen Buzzbeamer" and a new character known as "The Guardian" (probably a PC only character too). Most likely for Greenworld.

Pokie's voice is spot on. Perfectly encapsulates a bratty spoiled child that you love to hate. Also, the line of "Say hi to your mother for me in hell, goblin boy!" is interesting (although was unused for mild profanity). This line either was said for shits and giggles by the VA, or maybe it's meant to imply on what happened to the parents (or mother in this case) of Nova, Nebula and Quasar. Did their mother die, and if so, how and why does Pokie know about it?

Didn't expect Mayor Grimm to have that kind of voice. I guess it makes him even more creepier than before.

Apparently Celeste has a lisp? Didn't expect that.

I love Nova's voice. Enough said.

Quasar's voice my beloved.

Also we end up with two new villain characters, although I cannot catch their names. I know that the evil Nebula clone actually has a name, but it's hard to make out. (Phoenix, Venus or Venix? I feel like my hearing is starting to go..)

The Quasar clone (no name for him yet.) and Quasar's interaction feels like it's straight outta Sonic Adventure 2. I wouldn't be suprised if they called the clone "Shadow" XD. I think if they called him "Shadow", they would get into legal trouble with Sega.

Quasar realizing he's actually really annoying after meeting with his clone. THE ANGST POTENTIAL WITH THIS. Sorry, the team is literally feeding into one of my Quasar hcs, so stay tuned to my big list of HCs coming soon~

I feel this video fleshed out Quasar's, Nebula's and Nova's personalities quite a bit too. I really like that.

My theory on why the lines of the evil clones and our heroes were on the disc of the first NAQ game on PC was probably for promotional sneak peaks.

I think that most of the lines that Nebula and Quasar trying to be scary was probably just the VAs having fun and blowing off steam.

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Hello Steph! Do you have any fics that have Sherlock with a stutter and or lisp?

Hey Nonny!

AHHHHHHHHHH None that I can recall, but I did a quick keyword search on my offline lists and here is what came up:

Feeding Sherlock by AtlinMerrick (E, 38,199 w., 14 Ch. || Food Porn, Oral/Anal Sex, Rimming, Crossdressing, Heels, Stand-Alone Chapters, Sherlock’s Lisp, Sexual Nursing) – Sherlock habitually starved himself of everything: Food, sleep, sex. Fortunately John finally figured out how to get Sherlock to eat. To want to eat. To absolutely damn well love it. 

The Perfect Stranger by 72reasons (E, 39,712 w., 11 Ch. || Post-TGG, Pining, Unrequited Love, Grindr, Online Dating, OMC’s, Switching, Sherlock’s Lisp, Flirty John, Love Confessions, Frottage) – Sherlock and John pining for each other, basically since the beginning, but neither wanting to risk their beautiful friendship, living situation, or The Work. Each of them separately thinks that maybe dating another man will help to alleviate their lustful feelings for the other. Without knowing what the other is doing, they both download Grindr and each have a few encounters with random men. One day, the most observant man on the planet finds his beloved, supposedly straight, army doctor's profile on the app, looking for a male lover. Angst, miscommunication, and ultimately love.Set around the end of S1 and the beginning of S2 (you know, the pool).

------

If anyone has something to recommend to Nonny, please let us know!! <3

[stinkrascal]

stinky my beloved hello!! to satiate my insanity will u please answer some of my questions about your sims? i personally would love to know more about them, for example, do any of your sims have any small details/quirks that we are unaware of? like, lisps? stutters? do they walk really fast? waddle? limp? do they secretly have 6 toes? 3 nipples? do they believe in a certain superstition? ,etc. i must know pls 😔

hello elizabeth!! u have such a nice name heh <3 thank u so much for the fun q's!! honestly im just gonna spit a bunch of random facts out so oh boy here we go so

vaughn is really flexible, and he's double jointed in a lot of places. sometimes he likes to contort his body in weird ways to gross annie out. it works every time!

breanna is never fully idle, even when she's just standing somewhere she's usually always rocking back and forth or bouncing up and down. her favorite way to stim is by wiggling her toes or playing with her hair!

breanna and vladislaus are both bisexual, but they're also really shy about this fact. so, they're pretty much the only people who know this about each other. as they grew up in a place where they weren't allowed to express their sexualities, they've learned to repress those feelings. even though they live in a more progressive society now, they still find it difficult to express their feelings about their sexuality, more so for vladislaus than breanna, but breanna still feels awkwardness about describing her sexuality too. none of their children know about their bisexuality, though they would admit it to them privately, if they were to ask. it just never came up, so they never found a reason to share this fact with their children.

the straud children also don't know much about their parents background. none of them even know that breanna and vladislaus used to be human, since breanna and vlad don't like talking about their lives as humans.

the human world credits vladislaus and breanna for exposing the supernatural world, and they are considered "the first vampires." though the supernatural world knows they are not truly the first vampires, they allow the title, because most supernaturals still want nothing to do with the human world, even after 20+ years of being integrated in it. vladislaus is especially infamous in the human world, as he was discovered mid-vampiric blackout, terrorizing the human world. breanna is viewed much more favorably, as she was discovered while trying to stop vladislaus from harming the human world. either way, though, the straud family lives in infamy, and most people avoid them because of it.

gen hates touching people because they're afraid people can read their thoughts through physical contact. so whenever someone goes to hug gen, gen has to focus really hard on not having "Bad thoughts" while they're in contact, so nobody can read their unsavory thoughts. usually, gen achieves this by repeating a phrase in their head, something generic, like, "how's the weather? how's the weather? how's the weather?" or something to that effect. lucien and vlad have this too, but to lesser extents. it's worse with gen. that's why they avoid physical contact 99% of the time

every time caspian finds a four leaf clover or sees a butterfly flying about, they make a wish :)

also, like breanna, caspian is never fully idle. even when he stands, he's always rocking back and forth. they also wiggles their fingers a lot, or crack their wrists, especially when they're nervous.

klaus believes in ghosts, of course! he often plays guitar to coax ghosts out of hiding, because he has the belief that ghosts love music :) which they do btw

anastasia is really comfortable around gross stuff, she's not squeamish in the slightest. she's exposed herself to various grotesque images online in her attempts to build a tolerance to gore, so that when she becomes a doctor she won't be grossed about by performing surgeries. weirdo lol

wolfgang's nose twitches when he lies! he's a bad liar, but he still lies often in spite of this. luckily for him, he's a smooth talker, so most people don't recognize when he lies. only those closest to him do

every night before bed, vladislaus prays that the next day will be kind and no harm will be done. if he doesn't do this before the day ends, he feels really anxious that something will go horribly wrong. so it's become his ritual to pray before bed. though he's no longer a practicing catholic, he still believes that god does exist

in my universe vampires have three magical classes: charmers, exhaustion, and strength. every vampire may belong to a combination of these three classes. klaus belongs to the exhaustion class, and one of the side effects of his powers is that his emotions are significantly dampened. because of this, klaus must set alarms on his phone, reminding him to eat, because otherwise he will forget to do so and may accidentally release his dark form, since his powers prevent him from feeling hunger. vladislaus, gen, and nikolai experience this too, but to lesser degrees, since they are influenced by more than one magical class, unlike klaus, who is only influenced by the exhaustion class and therefore feels these effects more strongly than the rest.

most of the straud children belong to the charmer class! this is because vladislaus belongs to all three classes, and breanna belongs to the charmer class alone. one day i'm gonna make a chart for who belongs to which magical class bc i'm always getting them confused hahahaha.

breanna's favorite place to be is by the ocean! however, they don't visit often at all, because vladislaus has trauma related to water. but she dreams of seeing the ocean often. if it were up to breanna, they'd live in sulani forever!!

to follow up on that last point: despite what ts4 claims, yes, vampires can, in fact, get sunburns. breanna will burn within 15 minutes of being outside, which is why she and all the strauds are expected to apply sunscreen before leaving the house, even on cloudy days. and rest assured, she hates this process. the stickiness of the sunscreen grosses her out every time. it's probably the one real reason why she hasn't forced vlad to move to sulani. can you imagine all the sun that place gets? and how much sunscreen poor breanna would have to apply every hour to prevent herself from getting burned? gross...

[reigningm4x]

max was fighting for his life to say thirtieth in that birthday message 😭😭😭 the english th sound wins again

Max's dutch accent lisp my most beloved thing

[sailorhyunjinz]

what do you think cuddle with skz would be like?

hmm,,, feels like ive been writing a bunch of fluff lately hehehe but let's do iiiiiit

Warnings; suggestive content~

Bangchan

a classic spooner

prefers to be the big spoon since he can hold you and it feeds his size kink ;))

may or may not press his bulge against your ass just to make you flustered

but would end up flustering himself lmao

doesnt mind your hair getting in his mouth or you wriggling about since he loves you too much to tell you anything ehhehe

will tell you about his day softly as his lips are close to your ear

leaving small kisses in between sentences cause you look so cute >:((

may or may not pat your butt

"you feel so warm and snuggly y/n" he says as he squeezes you tightly to your chest

bonus points if you giggle or like snort when you laugh he lives for that shit

Minho

legit cuddles in complete darkness

NOT BECAUSE HE DOESNT WANT TO SEE YOU but because all other sense get hightened? (ok this sounds kinky its not i promise)

he just likes seeing nothing and just hearing the peaceful sound of your breathing followed with small whimpers (i give up)

in true catboy fashion he will rub his face on yours or anywhere else on your body (tits if you have those or ass)

also likes resting his head on your thighs since he can look up at you (and make fun of your dubble chin)

weird cat noises he only does when he's alone with you to signal that he wants a kiss

or he just pouts and points at his lips

if you dont give him kisses he wont hesitate to scream in your ear rip eardrums i guess

Changbin

arm pillow babeeeey

because you always tell him how sturdy his arms are and he blushes every time ahsahs

his other hand is usually resting on your tummy, tracing small circles or other figures on the soft skin

has the habit of talking about himself too much but you dont mind since he's always so excited talking about future projects or date nights he's planned

strokes your hair and gives you scalp massage if he's feeling extra

might or might not start sucking hickies on your neck heheheh

or start ya know,,, undressing you

poor boy cant help himself when he's this close to you

will always look at you with a slightly suggestive look MAYBE THATS JUST HIS RESTING FACE BUT LIKE- you cant help but to crack up every time and he's confused ahshash

craves attention, dont even turn around. eyes on him

Hyunjin

holds your hand the entire time

also loves to have his head on your chest since he can hear your stable heartbeat and it makes him calm

will probably fall asleep before you since he's just that comfy in your warm grasp

loves it when you continue to stroke his hair or cheek even when he's asleep

says "i love you" probably over a thousand times

like a fucking woodpecker on your lips my guy loves pecking you

in love when you wrap your legs around him >:((

also in love when you get all whiny if you dont get what you want

"hyunjinnieee!! hug me!!" you squeal out but hyunjin wants to tease you a bit, not reacting to your request

"b-but jinnie~ then im gonna steal it!" you say before wrapping your arms tightly around him causing him to crack up, his heart just melted

Jisung

can never just cuddle??

you guys always need to either watch a movie or fuck, just cuddling is if he's had a bad day

will 100% cry in your arms if he's not feeling well

loves nuzzling his face in the crock of your neck

so clingy?? dont you dare leave him to "get something" he will be a koala on your back

secretly likes being the small spoon >:(

"y/n~ come baaaack~ it's getting cold here!!"

loves it when you're squishing his cheeks or taking pictures of him when he's all cuddly and cute

🥁 PLAY 🥁 WITH 🥁 HIS 🥁 HAIR 🥁

especially if you have long nails, he loves when you scratch his hair UGH HE GETS ALL SQUIRMY

Felix

awh he loves when the two of you are looking at each other

always tells you how pretty your eyes are, that he can get lost in them because he's cheesy like that

say something cute about his freckles and he's putty in your hands

omgomgomg will bring cookies and hot chocolate to bed

massages for dayyyyssss

his favorite is hand massages because he's massaging you and holding your hand at the same time! WINWIN SITUATION

kisses on your cheeks >:((

BUT HE EXPECT JUST AS MANY KISSES BACK!!

rubs his hair all over you

he claims that he's "leaving his scent" so that you know that you belong to him

Seungmin

nose kisses~

"you're mine!"

lots of baby talk from our beloved puppy boy like he gets a slight lisp? (kimchi jjigae walkie talkie yah)

likes having his arms wrapped around your waist since you cant escape him then hehehe

give him kisses, he needs them all over his face

i have a weird feeling that he's warm? human radiator basically

so every time you are complaining that its cold he will just open his arms

also this is not cuddling but he will trade gloves with you because he's warmed up his own gloves while you are still freezing

protect him and he will protect you

i basically picture two cats cuddling, thats the energy

Jeongin

legits want you to just lie on top of him LMAO SUFFOCATE HIM WITH LOVE

will talk about the most random stuff ever

will prepare one random fact when you lie close to him in his arms

"did you know that avocadoes are berries?"

followed by a cute giggle and it just makes your heart melt >:(

"oh and also did you know that i love you?" AAAAAH he's honestly adorable (ok cherry we get it)

will also tickle you randomly because it makes you laugh and he loves it

you are the only person that gets to have your hands on his,,, abs ;))

smiles when you kiss him a-and then he hides underneath the blanket :(

[kettlequills]

affinity

unsure at this point whether elenwen would benefit more from a long course of therapy or a good dicking. luckily, neither of these are in store for her, so enjoy an elenwen who is not hinged at all plus sybille, who is having a very bad day. TW: blood drinking, cutting, violence, manipulation and threat, sexual themes, and character death. implied sybille/istlod, a lil elenwen/elisif, uhh idk if youd say this is elenwen/sybille but hm. enjoy, and gimme a shout if you think it needs an extra tag. a03

Elenwen discovers Sybille's secret, and has ... words.

The Thalmor Ambassador had come to Solitude and found an empty palace. No one else was there but Sybille, left to frustratedly amuse the Ambassador while someone hurried to fetch the steward, the Jarl, somebody. Anybody, but Sybille Stentor. Some dispute had drawn them away – some fluster in the training yard – Sybille neither knew nor cared, except that Falk was not here to ask the Ambassador why she had come to darken their door, nor even Elisif, to gracefully offer wine and bread to the sour-faced elf.

Even if it had not been months since she had last slaked her thirst in the prisons beneath Solitude, Sybille still would have had little patience for this. The Thalmor irritated her, with their poorly-hidden disdain, their smugness, their superiority. As it was, her head pounded, her throat ached, and moving around in the dim evening sunlight was painful enough that it made her vision blur red. She had begun to hear heartbeats in the chests of her friends, the Jarl she was trying to become loyal to, and each night was an exercise in self control growing monumental in difficulty.

And there was Elenwen standing with her hands behind her ramrod back, looking as if she had sniffed something foul. Her expression was so forbidding, so bleak, so threatening that Sybille immediately perceived why the weak-willed guards had found someplace else to be. For once, she was completely alone, unflanked by unsmiling justiciars.

Foolish, or another spiteful little snub. No, Elenwen had nothing to fear in the heart of the Blue Palace – as much as they might whisper into their pillows how much they hated Thalmor oversight, Thalmor gold still sweated in their palms as they tipped their toothless necks back for the glutting. Why bother with guards, when you had the helmless court of Solitude on a leash?

Oh, Istlod. How he would be ashamed, to see his court reduced to this.

“Ambassador,” Sybille ground out, hating this. She wasn’t supposed to be the one greeting dignitaries come to pander and parley. That was Falk’s job, or the Jarl’s – but Istlod was long gone, and Torygg was dead, now.

Torygg, Torygg. He’d been just a boy; Sybille remembered as if it had been yesterday his chubby hands grabbing on the front of her robes, his lisping pronunciation of “ibble!” before he’d learnt to say her name. A gangly teen, pimple-faced but trying desperately to be noble, the pride of Istlod’s eye, blushing-bold. Bare years after, before even the flower of his prime – dead, dead and cold on the cobbles. Sybille had promised Istlod to keep him safe. But she’d failed. She failed, and Torygg was dead, his murderer walking free and all that was left was … Elisif.

Elisif. A dear girl but… not Torygg. Young, foolish, easily swayed. Inexperienced. Weak, when they needed strength. When Sybille needed Torygg. She was fond enough of her but Elisif looked at her like she was drowning, always begging for advice, and when Sybille met her eyes all she saw was the moment when Torygg had heard Ulfric’s challenge ashen-faced, then turned to his bright young wife and visibly steeled himself.

Ready to die, rather than dishonour her, disappoint her.

It wasn’t Elisif’s fault that she had survived Ulfric when Torygg had not, but Sybille could not stop blaming her. Still, Sybille wished she was here now. The young Jarl was better at this, the inane courtesies, the lies, than Sybille was. Even if Sybille thought she was far friendlier to the Thalmor Ambassador than was wise.

“Court Mage,” Elenwen greeted, polite as picture. In her clipped Dominion accent, the two words sounded loathsome as a curse. Her lip curled upwards in an estimation of what she probably thought a smile was supposed to look like. It was all sneer, and like most of the Emissary's facial expressions, was tinged with pointed disgust.

She was standing rigidly in the main hall of the deserted emptiness of the Blue Palace like a stubborn brick over a fire. Choking all the air out of the room, stifling, her presence as oppressive as a lead weight. The maids had all found themselves somewhere else to be, fearing, no doubt, the Ambassador’s legendarily cutting tongue and Sybille’s own displeasure at being left to entertain. As if she did not have a thousand more pressing matters to attend to, and barely the patience besides.

Not even when she was well-fed, which she was not.

They stood in silence for a moment, Sybille warring with herself, before she grudgingly asked, “Are you in need of refreshments, Ambassador?”

Hospitality, to a pit viper. If Sybille had not been what she was, the thought would be funny. As it was, it only insulted – Solitude did not need any more secret teeth tracking the prey that would not be missed. Sybille had heard the rumours, like everyone else, of secret Thalmor dungeons, and screams from beneath the solar so loud that they could be heard over the music during the parties. The prisoners of Solitude – such as they were – were Sybille’s domain.

“No,” said Elenwen, a pinch too swiftly, as if the very idea was nauseating, “And yourself, Court Mage?”

Sybille's control of her face was not so slight that she blinked, but she was aware of a tightening around the skin of her knuckles. The words, the consideration, were so odd in Elenwen’s cold, autocratic tones that at first she was certain she had misheard.

“I fail to see how that is any concern of yours,” Sybille said rudely, and suddenly, Elenwen changed.

She turned fluidly towards Sybille and prowled closer, the stiffness as if she was daring not to breathe for fear of inhaling foul scent gone. Her sneer vanished, smoothed into a smile, wide and full, completely genuine, utterly threatening. Her eyes glittered flatly, like mirrors. Her movements were slow and slinking. Gone were the sharp clicks of her boots, muffled by some trick of her step that left her silent as a panther.

Sybille was left feeling like the world had suddenly shifted to the left and left her behind, as dizzy as if a rug had been pulled out from underneath her. A moment ago, the Thalmor Ambassador had stood in front of her, haughty as ever, unbending with her stiff Altmeri pride – but this hungry, prowling creature was not her.

Her teeth sharpened in her mouth at the implicit threat that rolled off Elenwen, at her approaching closeness, the blood Sybille could sense flushing the capillaries under her skin, pounding through the chambers of her cold Altmeri heart. At once, Sybille was immensely aware that there was no one to observe them; no one at all.

And it had been weeks, weeks since Sybille had drunk her fill.

“How quickly these mortal children wane compared to the lifetime of an elf,” Elenwen murmured. Her voice was throaty and rich, the sharpness of the consonants blurred by a coastal accent that Sybille swore she had not had before. “How we see them pass us and consign the summers of our childhoods to the distant realm of myth and mystery as they bloom and fade in the blink of an eye. Truly, I am impressed at how faithfully you served the late Jarl Torygg, like you served his father Istlod before him. Tell me, how many of them have ... failed to see?"

Elenwen's horrible smile stretched wider.

"But I see, Court Mage.”

“I am perfectly well-appreciated within my position, Ambassador,” Sybille said coldly.

She was beginning to feel somewhat uncomfortable. There was no possible way that Elenwen knew her secret, but the damn elf seemed far too smug for Sybille’s liking. She hated these types, the twisted double-talk that meant something else entirely. Was she attempting to recruit Sybille to the Thalmor? She had to know that Sybille would never have agreed to that, for Istlod’s sake, who had been miserable at the news of the Concordat, if nothing else. Now, if only they were somewhere a little more secluded, then Sybille could teach her some proper manners –

Except no, she couldn’t, that was the Thalmor Ambassador. People would notice if she visited the Solitude dungeons and came back with marks on her neck and a hunger to be bitten, drained deep, pliant in the arms of a predator, better attitude notwithstanding. And Sybille couldn’t kill her. Not without reprisal.

Istlod would have wanted Sybille to kill Elenwen. Except – no, he had agreed to the peace too. Her fangs pressed insistently, dully, on her tongue.

Elenwen’s smile widened. Sybille saw every one of her straight teeth. Too white, too even, lined up like regiment soldiers or grave-markers for war-dead. Some of them were fake, she was willing to bet. This wide, the makeup caking her cheeks folded around her smile unflatteringly, the thick foundation hazed with cracks. Fake, fake, but the blood that ran under her skin was real.

Sybille could force her to bleed, force her to feel spark-bright pain, force her to reveal the truth under her teeth, her claws, her little boot knife. Even an ice-spike would do, chill that golden flesh high and taut until it pebbled with goosebumps and she was shivery and damp, and the heat of her blood spilling over her chest made her gasp at the shock of warmth.

That would make her speak straight and true, if nothing else would.

“It has been a dry spell in the prisons, hasn’t it?” Elenwen purred, soft, sympathetic, as if she was commiserating over something truly terrible, “My condolences, truly, you have been much more patient than I would. But tell me, have any of your beloved young humans noticed you have not aged a day?”

“Many humans are not aware of the life spans of an elf,” she said, to hide the fluttering of something that was beginning to feel like panic or fury. “I am Dunmer, a few decades are no great time to me.”

“Could you go decades, I wonder?” Elenwen’s smile dropped, but the look that replaced it was worse, coquettish, sly. She contrived some way of looking up at Sybille through her eyelashes painted and curled with oil despite her taller height and took a falsely-nervous step closer, all awkward shoulders and sliding foot, just as if she was a wheedling young lover begging her first kiss. But her eyes danced brightly, privately, as if this entire interaction was nothing but a game they were playing, just the two of them. “I rather think you’re hungry now.”

“I ate this morning,” Sybille lied flatly, “with the rest of the hall.”

“Tch,” said Elenwen, as if Sybille had missed a step, and belatedly, Sybille realised it would not be any hardship for a spy group as developed as the Thalmor to verify that lie, “Are you sure, Court Mage? We could test it, if you like. How much of you would be left, after decades? It’s been such a short time, and yet, I can see it in how you look at me.” She came closer, thrilled and faux-breathless. "You are hungry."

“I am quite sure I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Sybille bluffed, but she knew she had lost. Whatever game the Ambassador was playing, Sybille did not know the dance. She glanced haphazardly around the room, but they were truly alone. She could not hear so much as a scuffing slipper or clank of mail.

“Two months, three, since you last drank blood,” Elenwen clarified, so there was no possibility at all of pretending that she did not know, and smiled, smiled, smiled wide at the look of horror on Sybille’s face. Ice poured down Sybille’s spine. The floor dropped out from underneath her. No, no no, the Thalmor could not know.

“Were you fucking his father?” Elenwen asked conversationally, in the silence that fell, “Torygg’s, I mean.”

“I don’t… That is a serious accusation, Ambassador!” Sybille hissed, ignoring her, unable to name the feeling that started icy in her fingertips and spread dully and low up into her breastbone until she ached the whole way through. Her stomach knotted and writhed.

“Aren’t you thirsty, Sybille Stentor?”

Elenwen was so close now. So close that Sybille had to step back, her tall shadow casting her in gloom. Her eyes were half-moons behind the sun, and the light gilded her blonde hair like it was strands of gold. A strand drifted out of its aggressive pinning as Elenwen bent forward, swaying into Sybille like she was magnetised, and tickled there along her artificially-blushed cheek. Sybille could smell the powders, the hotness of her skin trapped beneath it. She had bleached with lemon oil recently, a faint scent clung to her, almost drowned by the floral drench of cosmetics.

“I don’t have time for this nonsense,” Sybille snapped, mouth dry as bone, and Elenwen laughed. It was full and unrestrained, a laugh from the stomach, and nothing at all like the stiff, courteous little smirks she gave as ambassador. It rang, rich and loud, through the entire hall, down the stairs and over the thrones, and Sybille heard it with a sinking feeling of a lock snapping shut.

Elenwen would never have laughed so loudly, so out of her stiff Ambassador performance, if she thought it was possible she could be overheard. Would she? Was this a bluff?

Sybille’s gaze darted again to the dark eyes of the doorways, but the palace seemed empty. Were there Thalmor in the wings? Elisif. Was the Jarl safe? She should be – though had not Sybille sent a servant to fetch the Jarl, the steward? Was Elenwen planning to unmask her before the court?

“Come on now,” said Elenwen, warmly, her smile conspiratorial like they shared a secret, just her and Sybille, “We’re all alone now, and I’m right here. Why don’t you bite me? Look,” She undid the first two buttons of her uniform, exposing a long line of pale gold throat. “I’ll make it easy. Do you like it easy?”

“Are you insane?!” Sybille snapped. There was no other possible response to that.

Nonetheless, her eyes were drawn to the expanse of bared skin, the delicate lines of the veins and tendons in Elenwen’s neck. She could see the forklike line of her jugular, the thinner softnesses of her veins. Vulnerable. The skin here had not been painted and powdered, hidden as it normally was under her collar. It was paler, yellower, like Elenwen did not get enough sun. Sybille wondered how she bruised. Whether she would paint over the bruises Sybille would leave her, when she woke in the morning, and wondered how she had struck her neck in the night.

Sybille swallowed around a mouth pooling with spit. It had been too long.

She could see the hollow where Elenwen’s pulse fluttered, waiting for Sybille to sink her teeth home. What would she taste like? Could anyone truly blame her, if she took just a little taste, just the tiniest mouthful, to sate her burning throat?

Surely, if she was doomed already, it would not hurt.

“Bite me,” ordered Elenwen, steely. Softer, she said, “Bite me, Sybille Stentor. You must be so thirsty. Doesn’t it feel like flames in your throat?”

It did, it felt like each inhale peeled dry chunks of her throat off with all the gentleness of searing sandpaper. Elenwen was so close now that Sybille could lift her chin and kiss her, close enough that her breath, warm, alive, smelling vaguely of summer-wine, brushed Sybille’s cold cheeks. Elenwen’s warmth was like another creature between them, the impossibility of Sybille being the dead one, with Elenwen’s eyes like a mirror to every fear Sybille had ever banished.

“You must have confused me with someone else,” Sybille said faintly as Elenwen stepped even closer. Their bodies brushed, her breath fanned hotly over Sybille’s forehead.

Elenwen hummed a little, disappointed. “Perhaps,” she said, and suddenly there was a dagger in her hand, so quick even Sybille’s vampiric eyes could not spot it. Just as fast, the dagger flashed, once, twice – and then the heavenly aroma of fresh blood reached Sybille’s nose. On Elenwen’s neck, either side of her tendons, two deep slices welled fresh red, deep, deep enough that after the first droplet rolled enticingly towards her collarbones another followed.

Sybille swallowed. She could smell it, thick as perfume, tantalising as an oasis in the desert. Elenwen’s blood was fresh, healthy, and right there. It was bright red, scandalously scarlet, against the warm gold of her throat, like a slash of silk. The candlelight from Sybille’s little alcove shone and shimmered in the droplet like the magicka in it sparked and sung, for Sybille alone. Begging her, almost, to lean forward – barely any movement at all, to chase the droplet with her tongue, lap up along that proud, stiff neck to the wet gash that fluttered like breathless lips waiting to be kissed.

How fast was Elenwen’s heart beating, to push such quick, steady little pulses down her neck? The collar of her robes was darkening to a liquid blackness, but Elenwen did not seem faint at all. Would she be strong til the end, Sybille wondered, would her heart hammer and struggle against her lips, her hands, her body and Sybille’s mouth? Would she pant and gasp and writhe, or would she fall still and silent, terror-glazed eyes and frozen muscles, or best of all, would she struggle and strain, drum weakening hands against the firm cage of Sybille’s arms?

“It’s a bad time to be a vampire in Solitude, isn’t it?” Elenwen asked, friendly, almost sweet, “With all that terrible news about undead stirring in the catacombs. A death sentence for you if anyone should find out, I expect.”

Sybille opened her mouth but her fangs were beginning to protrude, and venom ran eagerly down her chin. Elenwen’s gaze tracked the wetness in her mouth, and her voice dropped an octave when she spoke again.

“But I’m right here, and I’m offering,” said Elenwen, soft as a spider, warm as the blood Sybille could not tear her eyes from. “I could do so much for you if you enthralled me. All the power of the Thalmor at your fingertips…”

She chuckled, darkly. This close, Sybille felt it vibrate through her chest into Sybille’s own. The movement of her shoulders had a droplet of blood, teetering on the steep ridge of her tendon, tumble headlong into the sleek curve of the dip where her collarbones joined her neck. The swipe of red glistened wetly.

“… and I have so many more little puppets dancing for me than you could ever guess, Sybille Stentor. You would never have to fear being found again. All it would take is… a taste. Bite me.”

Pressing her shoulders back against the wall, Sybille turned her head away stubbornly. The stone was cold through her robes. Elenwen’s warmth was dizzying by contrast. Sybille was hot with bloodlust, had never wanted so badly. She was aware, as if it was happening to someone else, that she was trembling.

Involuntarily, she considered Elenwen’s offer. Imagined stepping forward, grasping the elf’s thin waist, following the trail of blood with her tongue. Licking up that taunting trail over the rigid line of her tendon, sucking hard and strong on the slash she’d cut into her own neck, the bones of Elenwen’s hips fine as glass under her grip. Imagined how Elenwen would go moaning-soft and boneless as butter in her arms, her long ears brushing over Sybille’s hood as her head drooped. How Sybille would have to catch her when her knees buckled, the reflexive way she would go to push Sybille away turned to a trembling grasp, rigid at first by the pain, then softened by the venom, how her brilliant, hard blazing eyes would go soft, dark, round with venom and bloodloss euphoria, when Sybille imposed her will over her, how Sybille would drink, and drink, and drink-

But no – it was broad daylight in the middle of the fucking Blue Palace, there was no way that Sybille could drain Elenwen or thrall her quick enough to avoid discovery, and that was only if Elenwen didn’t have some other plan. There was no way that Sybille would go along with some Thalmor plot out of – hunger, hunger alone.

What would Istlod say?

Elenwen pressed close until she was crowding Sybille against the wall. Her body was thin and bony, the buckles of her uniform dug into Sybille’s breastbone. Her lips brushed the tip of Sybille’s ear through her hood when she spoke. This close, the smell of blood was intoxicating.

But Sybille was not strong enough to push her away.

“Drink,” Elenwen cajoled. “It’s been so long since you last had a prisoner, hasn’t it? …Such unfortunate accidents.”

Sybille heard the shift of cloth, that and outrage had her turning her head back to glare at Elenwen, but she was too close, and instead Sybille’s nose butted against her smooth cheek. Her skin was searing hot, a fine dust from her makeup tickled Sybille’s nose. Sybille felt Elenwen’s repressed shiver at the chilly brush of Sybille’s dead skin against hers in the pit of her stomach. “You-?”

“Me,” Elenwen confirmed, smile widening in Sybille’s peripheral vision.

Sybille was transfixed as Elenwen lifted her finger to the bleeding wound on her neck and shoved her finger in, stark, bold, crass. Her smile never wavered at all at the pain. Her bright, bright eyes were focused on Sybille. The part of Sybille that had been mortal once was horrified at her disregard, the part of her that thirsted so badly for blood it barely cared anymore found it unbearably erotic.

She behaved like a venom-drunk thrall, but she smelled rich and fresh, unbitten, untainted. Did she feel no pain, or did she not care? … Did she like it?

The deepened wound gushed redly down her neck, and Elenwen leaned even closer, until the warmth of her body pressed Sybille’s cold one through their robes, like she wanted to become one with her bones, buckles and all. She was thin, thinner than Sybille had expected her to be; she could feel the ridges of Elenwen’s ribs, her small breasts, the cavernous flutter of her stomach.

Elenwen’s finger, glistening with her own blood, raised towards Sybille’s watering mouth.

There was nowhere to go. She turned her head, straining, but Elenwen chased her, cornered her, and Sybille’s mouth parted involuntarily to stop it from painting her lips red. If she tasted the blood – even a droplet – Sybille knew she couldn’t hold back. She choked out a little moan when Elenwen let her finger rest there inside Sybille’s mouth without touching her at all, breathing in the scent of her, so strong, so present. Slender and long, she could have tickled the back of Sybille’s throat if she chose, made her cough and gag and choke, but she did not, instead she teased, not touching, not tasting, forcing Sybille to breathe around the inescapable allure of her.

“I must confess a little professional curiosity,” Elenwen told her, intimate as a lover’s whisper, “I’ve never met a vampire before, and I’ve always wondered how it compares. The blood of Alinor’s finest surely ought to taste better than the swill in the dungeons, though personally, I can’t say I’ve ever tasted much of a difference – Nord, Altmer, Dunmer, we’re all good in wine.” She smirked a little at that. “Won’t you taste, for me?”

The saliva pooled down around Sybille’s fangs and over her chin. She closed her eyes in humiliation.

Elenwen tutted. “I suppose not. Perhaps this will help.” She drew closer, closer, nudging under Sybille’s hood, until her breath puffed over Sybille’s ear, waking long dead nerves with a shiver. Her free hand bracketed the wall above Sybille’s head, then stroked down over the back of her neck and seized the base of her skull. Her fingers knotted into the hair there, each one hot as a brand.

Sybille forced her tongue against her teeth, trying to ground herself through the strain in her jaw. Elenwen’s blooded finger in her mouth was a burning beacon, commanding attention. Spit and venom drooled continuously down her chin. Elenwen’s thready heartbeat – affected, now, by the bloodloss – pounded underneath Sybille’s ribs like a call to war.

“I killed Torygg,” Elenwen breathed into Sybille’s ear. “I told Ulfric to kill him. I broke his mind and I told him to murder poor King Torygg. I was told he squealed like a stuck pig when Ulfric knocked him down, broke his darling bones with one of those beastly shouts of his. Did you hear them break? There’s a certain sound a bone makes when it shatters beyond repair, and the look in a plaything’s eyes, when they realise they are only breakable meat – well, you don’t need me telling you how sweet that is. … I envy you. I wish I could have seen it.”

Elenwen’s gory detail was not needed. That day was burned into Sybille’s memory, the dull wet pops, the snaps and cracks of Torygg’s bones, the horrible thud and the wail he’d made in the thunderous after-shocks of that terrible Shout, the bitter venom in Sybille’s mouth when Ulfric contemptuously cut his head from what remained of his shoulders with one swipe. Ruby-red, it spurted from the messy stump, it had puddled in the grooves of the courtyard’s cobbles, and weeks after rust-red flecks were found, splattering shoes and hems. Torygg had contained so much blood in him, so much of Istlod, and his iron scent was seared into her nose, her mind, mixing with the tantalising barely-there taste of Elenwen in her mouth.

Sybille gurgled on a gasp. She closed her eyes harder, overwrought, fighting to restrain the tears that welled there. That broke through the blood-haze. She’d known. She’d known it had been too simple, that it hadn’t made sense. But – the Thalmor, killing Torygg? Manipulating Stormcloak?

Elenwen moaned at something on Sybille’s face, tearing her concentration. The vibration stirred Sybille’s chest, the quiver of her ear, and Elenwen’s hips ground against hers in subtle, excited circles. It was vile. It was seductive. Sybille had never wanted to break more than she did now. She deserved to die. Wouldn’t it be worth it? Grief, sick desire, warred with prudence. But – this was what she wanted, Sybille fought to remember, the Ambassador was trying to manipulate Sybille to – to –

She was so thirsty.

Sybille’s teary glare did not seem to faze Elenwen at all. This close, she could see the breaks in the makeup that covered Elenwen’s skin, the artificial wrinkles that made her look older than she truly was. Everything fake, a performance. She made a negative sound around the venom bubbling out of her mouth, and Elenwen smiled. It was not a nice smile.

“And I think I might fuck that idiot doll you’ve got on the throne, too,” Elenwen whispered, and Sybille’s jaw muscle jumped. Her catlike eyes warmed with glee. “Oh, I know you were warning her off my little parties. Came back in too much of a state once, did she? The funny thing is that she approaches me – you should be thanking me, really, all that whining about her poor husband, but she cheers right up if you get a little summerwine into her, turns right into quite the … bold … little … slut.”

That last word was delivered in a hiss, lips brushing Sybille’s ear, and at once, she couldn’t take it any longer. She jerked to snarl back, and Elenwen’s bloodied finger rubbed the soft wetness of the inside of Sybille’s mouth. The rich taste of fresh blood overwhelmed her, blanked her mind. Sybille sucked reflexively, and Elenwen’s breath stuttered in her chest. She threw back her head, exposing her bloody neck, and ground hungrily into Sybille.

“Does your doll like knives?” Elenwen panted. “I do.”

Then, she laughed, delighted and breathless, as Sybille’s hands left the wall and found themselves somehow on Elenwen’s back, pressing her close, wrinkling her robes beneath clenched fists. She bit the flesh between her teeth, dazed, searching tongue prodding for all the blood she could smell but not taste. Her own venom burned her throat when she swallowed.

“Oh, though I suppose it doesn’t matter,” Elenwen continued, tugging her finger free, “She will learn to, if I want her.”

Her body tensed as if she meant to move back, but Sybille shot forward faster than lightning with a bloodcurdling snarl. She seized Elenwen’s hair and waist in a vicious grip, bringing her face close to the dripping wounds. The blood, hot and wet, the revenge, the wanting. At last, Sybille dared a tentative lick, a long, sure line up Elenwen’s neck, chasing the path of the bleeding. She tasted like magic, sun, knives, sharp and a little acrid. Intoxicating. Sybille smoothed over the wetness of the open wound, and she hesitated there, damnation at her lips.

A man’s face was before her eyes, fuzzy Nord-beard, mournful wrinkle-sagged stare. …Istlod?

Elenwen did not fight her at all, though Sybille felt the prick of her dagger against her ribs, a second from slipping into her heart, even as she whimpered at the tightness of Sybille’s grip on her fine hair. It was soft, thin as insect-wings over Sybille’s fist. Elenwen’s body hummed with tension like a live-wire, she breathed in gasps, and she trembled faintly with an unbearable want that Sybille could feel straining to pierce the skin, meet its echo in the parched emptiness of Sybille’s bloodless gut. But her knife tickled at Sybille’s robes, warning and promise both.

“Go on,” Elenwen goaded, her voice strained, a little breathy, cracked with desperation, “Hurt me. You must want to. I killed him, I starved you. Hurt me.”

Could she drain Elenwen before Elenwen stabbed her? There was some reason why Sybille could not drink, she knew that, but all thought deserted her every time she breathed, every time she couldn’t help herself and licked the welling blood before it reached Elenwen’s collar, tracing the topography of her willing throat. Elenwen made sounds, beautiful and ragged, when Sybille lapped at her with her cold tongue, shivered in her arms, all eager sighs and clutching hands and poised knives. But still, Sybille did not affix her mouth over the pumping vein and drain, drain, drain her dry.

“Just-!” Elenwen bit out, “What’s wrong with you? Just – do it…”

Sybille strained against her desires. A battleground between her self-control, the mind of the mage who had served loyally for years, and the hungry animal that howled for blood. Istlod. Torygg. The sweetness of the elfsblood – sunlight and sweat, blade-tip lick – in her mouth. The iron reek of Torygg splattering over the cobbles. Elenwen’s gasps, overlaid with the symphony of Torygg’s body breaking, shattering, pulping under the force of Ulfric’s rage. The world had quaked then, now it whimpered in Sybille’s arms, immobilised by her grip. Istlod at peace on his bed, still smiling his last smile. Torygg’s tears. Elisif wailing, when the sword came down. The war-prisoners in the dungeon, hollow-eyed men whose blood tasted of death and despair. The Thalmor’s snake-whisper, hurt me.

Sybille felt Elenwen’s ear twitch against her hand. A moment later, footsteps rushing towards them.

“Out of time, vampire,” Elenwen cooed, almost a disappointed sigh, and when she pulled back this time Sybille felt her numb fingers release her.

She swallowed, copiously, trying to empty her mouth of spit, and burned hotly with indignation.

“You dare,” Sybille rasped, but Elenwen only quirked her lips, apathetic to Sybille’s fury.

A flash of light and the marks were gone, eaten by healing magic. The dagger disappeared into the folds of her robes, the buttons done up, the stray hair smoothed back into its severe imprisonment. She stood an easy few paces away, as if she had never dared to come so close to a starved vampire, a vampire she had starved. It took moments, and through it all Elenwen’s expression was bored, not a hint of fluster, not even a breath of that wretched amusement or nauseating intrigue.

“I’ll send a prisoner or two your way,” Elenwen promised in a flat voice, plucking at the neckline of her robe. “Do think of me when you drink them, won’t you?”

She drew herself up, and suddenly the Ambassador was back, rigid and stern.

“The Thalmor appreciates your cooperation in this matter, Court Mage,” she said sniffily, the accent disappearing as if it had never been there in exchange for the ringing, cold tones Sybille was used to from her. Pinched about her eyes there was nothing but vague disdain, as if she knew nothing about Sybille, as if she had never clung to Sybille and all-but-pleaded to her, and in fact, considered her just as interesting as a cockroach beneath her heel.

She turned away when Falk rushed out of the bowels of the Blue Palace and greeted her with a flurry of apologies. There was not a wrinkle on her uniform. Her heels clicked loudly on the marble as she followed Falk, reverberating into Sybille’s ears, as if she was the only sound.

Sybille sagged against the wall, and cursed Elenwen in every tongue she knew. Sybille considered herself good at reading people, had thought herself safe, well-protected here at the heart of the court. But the damned Thalmor had her over a barrel. She had no doubt these prisoners of Elenwen’s would be nothing but good men and women who had simply fallen on the wrong side of the Dominion, and Sybille nothing more than a convenient way of disposing of them. She could not see a way out of this trap easily – Elenwen could expose her with a word, had proven her control over Sybille’s food source, had threatened the last dregs of the family Sybille had loved.

Sybille needed blood from those who wouldn’t be missed, needed secrecy, needed to be in court even more than ever to protect Elisif and Solitude now she had glimpsed the danger Elenwen posed: the disdainful Ambassador, the eager prey, the gloating predator, glossed in her makeup to falsely age herself, in her uniform that hid her thinness, with her secrets and her contradictory masks. And yet, the most troubling of all was that Sybille could not tell which of the sides of Elenwen she had seen was the truth, and which was the lie.