#Raphaël's back

[sadcambion]

Frustration

R-18 Haarlep x f!Tav x Raphaël

A little angst at the end but not TW I guess ?

(No I didn't have a better idea for a title.)

You swing fervently over Haarlep, his cock buried deep inside you. Your moaning and heavy breath break the silence of the room and Haarlep’s claws are half-buried in your hips. He gives pelvic strokes in sync with your movements and he looks at you in a dominant way, lustful. The boudoir is full of your sounds and the sound of skin that collides.

Raphael stands there, sitting in a sofa, in front of the bed, a glass of wine in his hand, sipping it gently and seems to enjoy the show. He doesn’t take his eyes off you while you get hammered by his incubus. He doesn't touch himself but his erection through the fabric of his pants is obvious.

He watches your breasts bounce. Your hips bleed out because of the claws of the incubus. He looks at how Haarlep’s cock stretches your mistreated hole. You’re a complete mess. Haarlep gently growls with pleasure under you.

In a way, Haarlep’s pushes are gentle, deep, he strikes specific points in you, those that make you throw your head back and make you scream. You hear vaguely Haarlep talking while you are lost in pleasure.

"Master, I need to cum."

He asks permission to fill you. And you know that Raphael will refuse. Raphael’s index finger plays with the edge of his glass lasciviously, he looks at the incubus with a cold air.

"No."

"But master…"

The voice of the incubus is strangled by pleasure and has the way you feel it pulsating in your hot and wet walls he is close, really very close. The half-devil looks at you, and speaks directly to you.

"Back off."

Raphael’s voice is cold and without appeal, he will not let Haalep end up in you. You reluctantly withdraw. Your body is sweaty and panting, your breath is heavy. Haarlep obviously looks disappointed and frustrated but you don’t want to be the target of Raphael’s anger. You drop carelessly into the bed next to the incubus, its erection is covered with your juice, and you have never seen its length be so painfully tense. Raphael has been playing this little game of frustration with him for long, very long minutes. This is his punishment for finished up inside you without his permission while he was busy with mortals on the material plane. When he came back and found you intertwined together, your thighs and your sticky entry of his seed he was mad with rage. That you fucked together could still pass, that him finished in you, he definitely did not accept it.

He wanted to frustrate the incubus to the max. Drive him crazy. The idea of Haarlep filling you with his semen and getting you pregnant disgusted him. He wanted to be the only one, the only one who would have this privilege and this power over you.

And he would have your womb.

Your womb belonged to him. He wanted to fill you with his devil spawns. He already imagined you the round belly of his heir inside.

He puts down his glass of wine and gets up from the couch. Haarlep doesn’t move, and neither do you, you know what’s going to happen now. The half-devil snaps his fingers and he is naked, his erection finally released from his layers of tissue. He gets on the bed and crawls on you, Haarlep starts touching himself, seeking his own release after so much frustration. Raphaël laughs wickedly.

"Forbidden to cum until I have finish."

Haarlep throws an angry look at him but he knows he has no choice, Raphael is the master here, it is him who controls the situation.

You look at Raphael while you are under him, his body overhangs you, his wings outstretched as if to hide you from the incubus. You are shivering and you still feel aftershocks of pleasure because of the blows that Haarlep had given deep inside you. Raphael grabs your thighs and spreads them wide. His smile has something sinister.

"My dear… you should know that no one but me can fill you, right?"

You stammer, you know you should be afraid when he smiles like that. But you feel excited.

"I.. I’m sorry, Raphael, I didn’t…"

You do not have time to finish your sentence that him slips into you, in a fluid and deep way. You moan gently.

He starts to move. His thrusts are hard, deep, so deep that you can feel it against your cervix. His mouth hovers over your neck and his claws dig into your hips, worsening the cuts Haarlep left you. A gasp of pain and pleasure escapes from your throat. You hear Raphael growling faintly at the sensation of your walls. He speaks softly against your neck, his voice is calm, controlled, but you feel a threatening note.

"I hope for your sake that this child will be mine…"

You answer nothing, your mind is clouded by pleasure, Raphael is more brutal and more controlling than Haarlep, but it remains good, you like it. Your hands are firmly gripped in his back.

You hear vaguely the sound of Haarlep jerking next to you while you get fucked by the devil.

Raphael hammers your body mercilessly, he wants to show who you really belong to. He wants to show that he is your master. You feel a warmth in you, the pleasure rises, you head for a new orgasm. You hear Raphael again between two strokes.

"Otherwise, my dear… My dear little mouse…"

A threat. You tense at his words, a dull fear filling you. He smiles mischievously and slyly against your neck. You feel sharp teeth touching the soft skin of your neck. He gives a deep and more brutal thrust. You feel his cock throb and hit your cervix every time. Your moans become more throaty. His claws gently lacerate the bruised skin of your hips. He doesn't finish his sentence yet.

A dull growl escapes from Raphael's chest and at the same time he floods your insides with his demonic seed. Despite the fear building within you you feel your orgasm coming at the same time and your walls contract forcefully around him, pumping out more of his cum. You moaned, exhausted beneath him. He doesn't not whithdrawing yet and seems to be enjoying the situation, he senses your fear. He glances at Haarlep, still nearby, as he finishes, his warm, thick ropes landing on her stomach. He continues to stare at Haarlep, and finally he finishes his sentence.

"Otherwise, I would kill the child."

[shinyhappysims]

Thursday, 11:37 PM, Desjardins Household, Windenburg

Raphaël: What can I do to convince you not to do this audition?

Imani: You already convinced me years ago. I’m not convinced anymore. It’s time for me to start doing what I want.

Raphaël: What good is a family orchestra without the mother?

Imani: Shut up about the damn family orchestra, Rapha! We’re broke! Church donations can only get us so far! Someone has to be the breadwinner of this family since you failed in that regard.

Raphaël: I failed? You say that like you’ve been a good wife. You’re terrible at submitting to me!

Imani: Right. So terrible at something that I’ve been doing for 16 years.

Raphaël: I’d argue that you haven’t been doing it for at least 7 of those, considering what you’ve done.

Imani: I’m so sorry I went behind your back, Raphaël, but tell me how good you would feel if you had two sets of twins and then triplets back to back. I do everything for those kids! When they’re upset, who do they run to? Me! When they need help, who do they ask? Me! When they have good news to share, who do they excitedly share with? ME! I’m their mother, you’re just here. The only time you care about them is when you can parade around with your stupid orchestra!

Raphaël: Dieu, ça me fait chier! I care for those kids as much as you do! You’re just lying at this point.

Imani: What’s Sidonie’s favorite color? What fruit is Manon allergic to? What does Étienne like to collect? What’s Matthieu’s middle name?

Raphaël: …

Imani: That’s what I thought. See you in a couple hours.

later, at Zauberhaft Performing Arts Center

Judge: Please, state your name for the recording.

Imani: Imani Desjardins.

Judge: Your name seems very familiar. Wait, didn’t we offer you a spot in the Simphony a few years ago? You were phenomenal back then!

Imani: Oh, it’s been much more than a few years. I’m still phenomenal now, I hope. I had some… setbacks that kept me from joining back then, but this is where I belong. I'm sure of it.

[dujour13]

A Health to the Company

A little follow-up on our pwotr pals discord RP. Many many thanks to @yunessa for the idea, it was super fun and helped me out of the blues.

cw: Act IV spoilers, alcohol use, angst

For context. A spatio-temporal anomaly at the Bad Luck Tavern resulted in a paradoxical meeting of a handful of Knight-Commanders from different timelines: Siavash, Yunessa (@yunessa), Katya (@three-of-crows) , Lenarius/Leonosa (@undyingembers), Raphaël (@jean-dieu)

Theoven (@offsidekineticist), Kadira (@spyridonya), and Minovae (@silversiren1101).

They gossiped about their companions, shared their hopes and fears—although mostly their angst as this period of exile in the Abyss is a low point in their careers—and bonded (and argued) over a few—or a few too many—beers.

---

“Seelah!” It’s meant to be a whisper. “Hey Seelah, wake up.”

“Hunh? What’s happening?” The paladin sits bolt upright in her bedroll and gropes about for Radiance.

“No no no, sh, it’s just me,” Siavash laughs, stumbling into a squat next to her, even in this position somehow managing to sway on his feet. “I’m uh. I could use your help.”

“Have you been drinking?”

“I’m fine.”

“Yeah… I can see that. Smell that.”

“You won’t believe who I met at the Bad Luck. It was some kind of temp—temporal thing. They were all there. They were all different! And the same!”

“Hold on. Just—sit down, will you?”

“Thanks, yeah.” He plops down heavily.

“Despite what you might think, this is not what the Inheritor lends me her power for.”

“Yes it is.”

She rolls her eyes heavenward.

He reaches out to cling to her sleeve, eyes swimming with sincerity. “Because you have a good heart. And Iomedae says to follow your heart. And your heart says you need to hit me up with some restoration before Wol—“

Too late.

“Whatcha doin’ chief?”

“I’m fine.”

The tiefling stands over them, tail twitching. Somehow, half the camp is awake now even though Siavash swears he was quiet as a mouse when he crept back into the Nexus.

He is formulating his act of contrition as his eyes travel up but he’s suddenly distracted by how cute Woljif looks in his nightshirt and forgets what he was going to say. And then Seelah’s spell takes effect and it’s like letting all the warm bathwater drain out of his mind, leaving him heavy and shivering on the cold floor of the Nexus mine.

“I thought we were on the same sleep rotation,” says Woljif.

“We are. I just went out for a bit.” Siavash uses Seelah’s shoulder to get to his feet, giving it a squeeze of thanks as he goes to wash up. A few minutes later he’s scooting his bedroll alongside Woljif’s and when he closes his eyes the floor is blessedly stationary. Again he begins formulating his apology. “I just needed some time to think. I mean, a distraction. I do my best thinking when I don’t think.”

As usual, Woljif’s mind is already ten paces ahead. He’s figured out what happened, weighed the risks considering the recent Battlebliss incident, repressed any uncomfortable memories pertaining to alcohol and Gran, and debated whether and how to scold him. “It ain’t safe. Next time take somebody with who won’t hassle you. Take Regill, he won’t talk to you.”

“Oh, yes he will,” Siavash says with feeling.

“Or me. I can keep my trap shut.”

“I don’t mind you.” His heart aches but he can’t tell him he and his shadow are the principal reason he needed the break. Before Woljif can wonder aloud why he didn’t invite him along in the first place, Siavash brushes his cheek with his knuckles and speaks low in his ear, just under his horn. “How are you holding up? Really?”

“I thought Kenabres was bad, and then I saw the Worldwound, and I thought that was bad, and now this. I think my nightmares are gonna start havin’ nightmares.” Woljif sighs, then adds in a tender, embarrassed whisper, “But havin’ you around takes the edge off.”

“Same.” Siavash kisses his shoulder. “I won’t duck out again, I promise.” Even as the words leave his lips he winces at echoes of the same words, uttered too many times in the past, and hastily adds, “I mean it.”

Woljif’s eyes look almost green in the pale light, wide open and searching the vault of the mine far above. “S’aright. You do what you gotta do, chief. Always works out in the end. Or, usually I guess.”

“Thanks for trusting me,” he murmurs, already drifting. He closes his eyes, never noticing the inky pool of darkness that settles between them.

Woljif lies utterly still until he hears the breathing at his side ease into a low rhythm. At last he relaxes just enough to allow his tail to swish beneath the blankets. He clasps his hands on his chest as if he’s praying, or dead, and stares up into the darkness knowing he won’t be getting back to sleep tonight. Waiting and dreading… and presently, like clockwork, it begins: a velvety hiss in his right ear, making him scrunch up his shoulders:

Trust no one but yourself.

A thousand thoughts crowd in in answer: but I want to – but I love him – but he’ll live up to it this time – but I don’t want to be alone.

You’re not alone. I’m here. And I won’t hurt you like everyone else has.

What are you, anyway?

Your shadow.

With a fingernail he taps the gem in the Moon of the Abyss where it’s lodged in the dip in his collarbone. You in here?

It hesitates. I’m part of you.

And that’s how come you’re lookin’ out for me huh? Vested interest?

Correct. That’s why you can trust me: I am you.

That’s a little creepy.

Next to him, Siavash sighs through his nose and shifts. Impulsively Woljif starts to reach over just so his fingertips can steal a little warmth from his skin, but as his hand passes through the shadow it feels cold and he pulls it back and tucks it into his own armpit instead.

I am part of you, and you’ve come home to me.

The Abyss? That what you mean by home?

Home and family. Your legacy, if you have the courage to take what is yours.

Really? What’s mine? Quit talkin’ in riddles and gimme some numbers.

The mansion in the rich quarter I pointed out to you, and everything it contains, and everything it represents.

But I want—that’s not all I want.

He glances over. In the dying firelight all he sees of Siavash is the faint orange outline of his mussed hair and half-elven ear and it feels like if he reached over to touch him, it would turn out to be a mirage and his hand would pass through thin air.

Get used to disappointment. You should have, by now.

But I want—

Forget him. You’ll have to someday anyway. Might as well start now.

I don’t want to! Why can’t I have it all? How come just ‘cause I’m a tiefling I always gotta go hungry?

Oh, stop whining. Yes, you’re a tiefling! Seize the Abyss within you and use it like you use magic—shape it to your own design, dominate it, direct it against your enemies and fill yourself with its power so that you become smoke and shadow, elusive and free. Reach out with both hands! Take what is yours, by right or not!

Whoa, whoa, waxin’ a touch demonic there, ain’t we?

I am part of you. I am the Abyss.

Woljif shudders and pulls the blankets up to his chin.

Use me. That’s the only way for someone like you to take what you are owed.

Someone like me.

He grits his teeth as it starts: the prickling under his collarbone where the necklace rests, rivulets of icy blue fire streaming down his arms to his fingertips, sizzling in his hands, boiling in his guts, making his hair stand on end, making him want to jump up and let loose: power.

His thrashing must have disturbed Siavash’s slumber, because he feels an arm tossed across his hitching ribs. Its warm weight soothes the energy crawling under his skin and forces him to breathe steadily.

Woljif clings to the arm and presses it harder to his chest.

I want it to be real.

Only power is real.

I want someone to really think I’m… important.

Come to me. I’ll give you something real you can hold in your hands. Something yours and no one else’s, that you are free to use as you see fit. Then you’ll be important.

The firelight dies. He can no longer make out even a dim silhouette by his side in the darkness; it’s as if he’s alone in this lifeless, cavernous Abyssal mine and if he reaches out no one will be there but his shadow, seething around him, keeping him safe—and keeping everyone away.

Maybe the Abyss is the only home someone like him can hope for.

Even before he opens his eyes Siavash reaches out for the warm body next to him and his palm slaps on cold, flat stone instead. He’s alone, he’s still in the Abyss, and he’s hung over. A dull hammer thuds behind his eyeballs. Seelah’s restoration took care of most of the consequences of his actions, but not all—probably by the paladin’s design.

Hesitantly he opens one eye and then the other, and is grateful to find that Woljif hasn’t disappeared after all. He’s kneeling over him, carefully draping a cool cloth across his forehead. “Y’aright there, chief?”

Siavash’s eyes widen as he turns to stare at him. “I had the strangest dream.”

He can’t tell anyone. They’ll all think he’s cracked once and for all. Other Knight-Commanders from different timelines? Imaginary friends?

Why does that remind him of Regill?

[4alarmfirecracker]

Aaaahhhh Astrid et Raphaelle revient enfin le 8 novembre sur France 2. Trop trop hate!!!

Omg ... enfin une date !

Par contre c'est fou que pour une fois il n'y ait pas de date pour la Belgique et la Suisse.

Par contre j'avais apprecié le repos de la traduction 🤣

Astrid et Raphaëlle will come back at the start of November for season 5 guys ! Who is excited ?

[sweetmage]

WIP WEDNESDAY! 🎉

A little Disco Elysium fanfic (first ever!!) that I've been chipping away at! I'm about 4k into chapter one, it's definitely gonna be 2-3 chapters.

For a little context, this takes place 7 months post game and they just had an impulsive and awkward kiss on the precinct rooftop while avoiding the office party inside. The kiss also came right on the tail end of Raphaël prophesizing to him about the Pale and the end times (again) 😅 This is them back inside, about to part ways for the night.

---

YOU - "Uhhhh…" Your mouth is dry, so you try to wet it with a gulp of stale breakroom coffee. The 'good stuff' tastes bitter when it's gone cold. Like the aftertaste of regret. "Could I get a lift?"

KIM KITSURAGI - "Oh." He doesn't look surprised, but something about his tone seems disappointed. "I was hoping to go home right away. I need to switch over the laundry and…"

EMPATHY - It's a polite 'no'. He's trying to let you down easy, but the 'no' is firm.

SUGGESTION - If he meant 'no' then he would have said 'no'. Maybe there's a loophole. Think like a lawyer, not like a cop. Find an out, a technicality. It's there, somewhere.

INLAND EMPIRE - Hey, do you feel that? That unremitting buzzing in your the back of your skull?

ELECTROCHEMISTRY - And your crotch!

INLAND EMPIRE - And your crotch. You're special, you possess the otherworldly power to transcend all logical thinking and defy the natural laws of the universe itself! If you can see through the veil of reality, if you can tap into the preternatural consciousness, you can simply reach into his mind and change that no to a yes.

YOU - You stare deep into the lieutenant's eyes, past his physical form. In a way that can't be fully described with words, you feel the pathways in his mind. His thoughts are an ocean, deep and fathomless, the tide slowly lapping at your feet as you wade through them. You can almost see it, that no just waiting to be converted. It just takes a few little tugs at the neurons then--

KIM KITSURAGI - "Khm. What are you doing?" The lieutenant is giving you a look, a slight frown and raised brow that is equal parts inquisitive and annoyed.

YOU - There goes the buzzing, fleeing like a flock of birds at the sound of a gunshot. The connection is gone and now he just thinks you're weird. "Nothing. Sorry." There's no way to explain this, so you don't.

KIM KITSURAGI - "On second thought, maybe a drive is what you need. I'll just have to stop and switch my laundry on the way."

INLAND EMPIRE - It worked!

YOU - "Ha! It worked! Suck it, fate!"

COMPOSURE - And now he's definitely going to think you're weird.

KIM KITSURAGI - "Excuse me? What worked?" He seems skeptical. No, scratch that. He's flat out confused, but not in a curious way. This is the confused frown you get when you start talking about cryptids and conspiracies or prophesizing on rooftops.

YOU - "Um. Nevermind. Thanks, Kim."

KIM KITSURAGI - "You didn't rearrange my thoughts, detective."

HALF LIGHT - How did he know you were trying to do that? Could it be that he felt your presence? Or maybe he can see into your thoughts?

YOU - "Hypothetically speaking, if I was trying to do something like that, how would you even know?"

KIM KITSURAGI - He sighs, exasperated. "Hypothetically speaking, you have tried this before. It doesn't work. You simply looked out of it so it didn't seem like a good idea to turn you loose into the streets."

YOU - "Well, you're still taking me home, so if you think about it…"

KIM KISTURAGI - "No. We've done enough thinking for one night. Let's just go." He waves his arm as if to clear the conversation and walks past you towards the stairway down.

[o-wyrmlight]

“I take it that you’re Plaisance?” Harry asked, pulling out his slightly-damp ledger from the safety of his coat. Kim didn’t know how he failed to notice before, but a piece of toilet paper was clinging to the back of the ledger for dear life. His fingers itched to pull it off. “Plaisance Pontier, Annette’s mother?”

“Yes, that’s right.” Her voice took on a quivering quality, looking between Kim and Harry from behind her cat eyed glasses uncertainly. “Did something happen? I don’t want any trouble, officers. I’m just a simple businesswoman running a bookshop! I don’t want any bad publicity going on around here…”

“No, no trouble at all,” Harry reassured with a slight laugh, hunching his shoulders with a grimacing grin. “It’s just—well. Let us introduce ourselves. I’m Para-Natural Detective Raphaël Ambrosius Costeau from the Para-Normal Investigations Bureau. This is my partner.” He gave Kim a nod and a smile. “Para-Natural Officer Jimothy Kimothy.”

What the fuck was happening?

Plaisance gave pause, squinting between them suspiciously, fingers fiddling with the medallion hanging from around her neck. “The… Para-Normal Investigations Bureau? I’ve never… heard of such a division in the RCM before.”

“It’s not a part of the RCM, ma’am—the Para-Normal Investigations Bureau is a separate entity that works the underground of Revachol to resolve para-natural disturbances that threaten Revachol’s livelihood. If Revachol is the body we all live within, then we are her antibodies.”

Having some fun writing the Doomed Commercial Area for my fanfic, A Toast To The Pigs--a Martinaise retelling where Harry wakes up in #1 Whirling-in-Rags with his memory in-tact and still has to work with Kim to solve the case. Check it out if that's of interest to you! Typical Disco Elysium themes and warnings are to be expected.

[swayziiwriter]

Handprints | Raphaël Varane

summary: some said jealousy was a disease, but if jealousy had Raphaël leaving handprints all over your body? you were willing to catch it.

WARNING: 18+, sexual content

Raphael ran his palm against your flushed back before landing another harsh slap to your ass. You body jolted slightly, the area becoming red with his handprints as he continued to massage the soft skin.You let out a small moan as he slipped a finger into your juicy pussy, aching to be around his cock.

You were a mess, hair down and messy, your evening gown discarded of a while before. Raphael wasn't stopping any time soon with his punishments. And as twisted as it sounded, you didn't want him to stop. It started off all so innocent, you were at a charity banquet when you ran into an old friend, Nick. You were simply catching up on the past years of your life until Raphael came to your side, insisting that you come with him immediately.

"Oh he was not!" You continued raising your voice. "Please y/n don't take me as a fool, he wanted to fuck you right there" Raphael escalated. "We were just catching up for fucks sake" you yelled, causing the room to go silent as Raphael stopped spewing out returning arguments.

Raphael was the jealous type. While some would find it insufferable, you found it to be one of his best qualities. His jealousy towards any man that came just a bit too close to you was extremely hot. You had made Raphael aware of these feelings, letting him have his way with you in return for getting him so riled up. He was rough, just how you liked it.

Your breathing was uneven, your body becoming sore from the marks left on your ass. Your face was burning, cheeks hot as Raphael brought a hand to your throat from behind you. He was moving you into dogsy position, just how you liked it.

His grip on your neck as firm, only bringing you pleasure as he snaked his free hand down to your hip bringing you closer to his body. His hard cock was sprung against your ass, twitching slightly as precum covered the tip.

"Your ass is gonna be different shades of red by the time I'm done with you" Raphael cooed, his raspy voice sending shivers down your entire naked body. Your hands clung to the pillows at the top of the bed as you positioned your body to be as straight as possible, arching your back slightly. "Fuck me Raph, make me yours" you taunted, testing the limits.

Raphael let out a dry chuckle before thrusting into your harshly, shutting you up swiftly. You let a pornographic moan, shutting your eyes as Raphael built up his pace. His back shots were all consuming, you were whining under him begging for more. He filled you to the brim, making sure you were taking everything he was giving. Raphael drilled his cock into your pussy mercilessly. Your satisfied moans and screams were vindication enough for him.

Everything about sex with him was hot. The way his cock deliciously filled you was irreplaceable. No man could have you falling apart at their mercy like he had you. He could've asked you for anything right now and you would've said yes he was fucking you so good. Every back shot bringing you closer to letting go all over his cock. Raphael kept his grip on your neck, tightening with even harder thrust. "So fucking tight, all for me" Raphael groaned, bringing his hand from your waist to slap your ass, leaving you completely cock drunk.

The sound of his cock drilling into your core was lucid, absolutely filthy. The echoing sound of skin slapping was turning you on even more. Your body was begging for a release, clinging for dear life as Raphael only continued. "Mhm, I'm so close" you managed to moan, now completely laid flat on the bed as you couldn't hold yourself up anymore.

"Want you to cum all over my cock" Raphael replied, increasing his thrusts into you. He was pounding into you, you were ruined. "Cum inside me" you moaned out half dazed. "Whatever you want mon cherie" Raphael responded. Raphael moved your body slightly up until he reached your g-spot, your legs were shaking as he finally hit that delicious spot inside of you.

You came undone all over his cock, gushing your juices all over his pulsing member. "Don't stop, don't stop" was all you could manage as your eyes rolled to the back of your head. Raphael managed to ride your through your high before letting go. Cummimg inside of you, you moaned at the feeling of his warm seed coating the inside of your walls.

You felt like collapsing, your whole body aching as Raphael had completely fucked you out without a care. But you loved it, a week without his rough touch had you feeling starved, craving his dominance.

[solesoldier]

i know i've been back .2 seconds but harry du bois tequila sunset dick mullens raphaël ambrosius costeau my beloved ... i just want to write the most unhinged shit

[another-heroine]

Witch Toll

Maybe I got carried away about the mission of seducing the local priest and it ended like this!

Thanks @jean-dieu for lending me your awkward Sarenite, I studied him like he was a bug and I'm pretty satisfied. And Ekaterina had some fun bullying another Inquisitor >:)

CW: slighlty dubious intentions, teasing, power dynamics, flustered tiefling, better than a simple kiss (though 'better' is not the right word for this *evil laugh*)

Another day, another opportunity for Hulrun to get on everybody’s nerves. And it was worse when Liotr was away from Kenabres like that time.

Raphaël took a deep breath. It was a matter of time. May Saranrae give him wisdom and resilience to endure that nonsensical chase by nighttime into the woods.

“By the instructions we have, they must be not far,” the Inquisitor warned his squad. “Keep your eyes open.”

Perched owls watched over them with their piercing yellow eyes. Some of the witch hunters babbled prayers while following their leader.

“Damn wenches,” one of them cussed. “Like it isn’t enough to put their worthless lives in demons’ grasp, they put innocent folk in danger as well.  Who in their right mind would stroll around here to ask for help?”

“Charmed folk,” another one replied. “The poor fellows fall for their words like flies on an open honey jar.”

“And then get slapped to death.”

Raphaël stopped suddenly and gave a stern look at them. “Are you done with chit-chatting?”

The witch hunters looked at each other and nodded, slightly embarrassed.

“Let me refresh your mind one more time,” the Inquisitor recalled. “When we find the suspect’s house, you stay right behind me and let me lead the investigation. No vandalism, no unrequired words, nothing without my approval. By Everlight, you are men, not rabid dogs!”

One witch hunter called quietly, “Inquisitor”.

Raphaël looked at him and noticed the lad was pointing to somewhere ahead. And indeed there was something: warm lights following in a line. The squad got in position without second thoughts and followed the Sarenite.

A few commoners were at the door of a humble cabin. The Inquisitor waved for his men to not approach too much yet. They had to observe them first.

The door opened and a subtly glowing figure appeared. It was kind of hard to see her face since she was surrounded by the small group. She talked in a hushed voice, giving satchels and apparently elixir vials to the visitors.

“... It should help. Come back if you need anything else,” she guaranteed to an old woman.

“Erastil blesses you, girl.”

One by one, the people dismissed through the woods, and Raphaël held the line, ignoring the antsy feeling among his squad. They were not under Hulrun’s orders, but his. They should know how to behave for good or else.

Finally it was possible to give a good look at her, though from afar. The suspect was a copper-haired aasimar. Raphaël had heard about her before, but for a long time he thought the stories were exaggerated — a child of celestial living alone in the woods, asking for nothing but for people to leave her alone and let her help them the best she could. Why was she not in the Iomedae’s ranks as many of her kind have been?

A thought sparkled in the Inquisitor’s mind — Maybe because she is not like the others of her kind.

“Inquisitor, what now?” one of his men asked.

Raphaël swallowed hard. He was not nervous, but somehow his throat got constricted and he felt thirsty.

The woman got back inside the cabin and closed the door.

“Inquisitor?”

“I'll go ahead.” Raphaël left the shadows. “If I need you, I’ll send a signal.”

“Yes, sir,” the group agreed.

Walking to the cabin was strange. It was like his legs weighed much more than they used to. But before the tiefling could raise his hand and knock on the door, a soft voice asked, “Come in”.

And so he did. The inside of the house was scarcely lit by oiled lamps. Raphaël stiffed for a second; he felt the same piercing yellow eyes from earlier over his head, right from the ceiling, but as he looked up, there was nothing there.

“May I help you?”

The aasimar was sitting on a straw stool, sorting some herbs. She didn’t seem bothered by the strange visitor.

Raphaël got to his composure again and asked, “How… How did you know I…”

“I saw you and your men outside. Not mean to be rude, but being discreet isn’t one of their greatest skills.”

The Inquisitor kept his mouth shut, with a bitter feeling lingering in the back of his head.

She looked at him for the first time, and a soft smile appeared on her face, though not touching her eyes. “And it’s very rare to see someone like you on their side.”

“What do you mean? Because I’m a tiefling?” Raphaël scoffed, defensive.

The woman shrugged. “Let’s be honest, you should have made a great impression over Hulrun and your comrade-in-arms for they don’t cut off your tail or horns. At least.”

Raphaël frowned. “Who are you?”

The aasimar kept organizing the herbs before her. “Just someone minding her own business. But if it’s a name you want, it’s Ekaterina.”

“By your accent you are not from here.”

The woman sighed and got up. Raphaël’s tail twitched; she was shorter than him for a few centimeters. “You are right. I’m from Irrisen. But don’t mistake me for a Winter Witch, yes? I’m a druid.”

“Why are you so far from your homeland?”

“Personal matters. And now, my turn; what’s your name?”

Her body language was quite relaxed, but yet her words made the tiefling hesitate a little. She smelled of thyme and smoke.

“Raphaël,” he exhaled noisily. “I’m a servant of Sarenrae.”

Ekaterina looked at him up and down. “I see.”

He flushed. Of course he was, otherwise he would not be wearing Sarenite motifs.

“So…” Ekaterina put her hands behind her back. “You came to my home, asking questions and giving judgemental eyes. But as you can see, there is no trap, no luring or even a hungry beast lurking to eat you alive around here. Have I satiated your curiosity already?”

Raphaël cleaned his voice. “There are rumors saying that you were involved in… hedonist rituals.”

Ekaterina’s brows raised. “Really? When?”

She did not look offended. In fact, the words of the Inquisitor made her giggle.

“Not like a host or a guest, but… Someone came here and ordered a love potion. Is that true?”

Ekaterina smiled warmly. “That’s not my kind of business. But it would be… interesting, I daresay. People say a lot of things about everyone and everything, don’t you think so?”

Raphaël nodded, feeling weird, and getting nervous for being weird. Maybe he should send the signal for the other witch hunter right the way. Or just walk through the door and put a stone over that investigation.

Ekaterina noticed his hooves bringing him back to the entrance. She shook her head and added, “You witch hunters are so childish sometimes, putting it mildly.”

Her words itched Raphaël. “What do you mean?”

“Same old stories, every day. Hedonism, eating children, demonic pacts. It doesn’t matter if someone like me is just trying to survive and help good people, for many of you, my kinship and I should be at the stake whatever it takes.”

Raphaël protested, “Not every Inquisitor is like it!”

“You mean ‘like Hulrun’, am I right? Gladly I never ever met him,” she snorted. “Everybody is afraid of you because you're always scared of anything. If you were more flesh than divine weapon, maybe things would be easier and fairest for everyone.”

He was angry, but she was right. Every word was like a scorching ray against his skin, ignoring his Hellish heritage. Like the purifying Everlight herself.

Raphaël gave up. He walked back to the druid with his fists clenched, but his voice sounded quiet, almost like a begging, “Let me prove I’m not like them”.

Why was he doing that? He had no idea. Maybe because he was unfairly suspicious towards a child of Heaven, a lonely heather. Maybe because her presence had a powerful influence over him…

Or maybe because his mortified flesh was asking for that.

Ekaterina gave him a strange glance. She did not expect her words would bring that kind of outcome. She just wanted to shoo him away, but the effects were opposite.

“Let me prove myself,” he repeated, his heart beating fast against his ribcage.

Ekaterina pondered. “Do you have any idea how strong this request is?”

“Yes,” he replied without a blink.

That was a serious matter. Then it would be. The woman suggested, “Back in my homeland, when the house owner is disrespected somehow, the offender should bring an apology token. It could be a sacrifice, a terrible secret, or even sex.”

The last word made the Inquisitor’s guts freeze.

“Whatever that makes the offender vulnerable. So, lay down on the floor.”

“What?”

“Now.”

He asked for it. Dear Sarenrae, where was his head when he agreed with that? His tail rattled on the cold stone like an eager serpent, and involuntarily it wrapped softly on one of the druid’s ankles.

“Calm down, Inquisitor,” she stated, removing her limb from the desperate grasp like it was but a withered vine.

Dozens of ghostly-yellow eyes were watching them. Raphaël’s throat got dry again, as the woman put one foot on his chest, right over the Everlight insignia. She kept the other on the floor, next to his head, letting the worned hem of her tunic flutter on his chin and neck.

“I’m sorry,” he begged, either to her or his goddess.

“You are fine,” the druid hummed, looking deep into his eyes.

He wanted to move, to brush at least one thumb against her warm skin, from the ankle to the calf and up the way. To… kiss her. But he couldn’t do that; he made an unbreakable oath on his own.

“Don’t come back here again, unless you have a good, good reason,” she said. “Am I being clear?”Raphaël just nodded, and when she took off her feet over him, he felt… empty. And naked.

[mariacallous]

Two seismic events rocked France last Sunday. Politicians are only now pulling themselves from the rubble and scrambling to make sense of their upended world.

The initial quake arrived shortly after the French polls closed for the European Parliament election. Almost immediately, Marine Le Pen’s electoral list for the far-right National Rally (RN) was projected as the winner. This was not a surprise, of course. For weeks, pollsters had reported that the RN list, led by Jordan Bardella, was hovering over 30 percent, more than doubling the government’s Renaissance list, led by Valérie Hayer.

As the numbers rolled in, the shock deepened. The RN had already beaten majority parties in past European elections, but this time, the margin was nearly 17 percentage points. Moreover, the party carried every region, including republican ramparts such as Brittany and Île-de-France—though not the latter’s largest city, Paris—and made inroads with swaths of the population once beyond its reach, including voters over 65 as well as those with university and professional degrees.

Then came the aftershock. Less than an hour after the results were announced, President Emmanuel Macron declared the dissolution of the National Assembly and scheduling of new legislative elections. The announcement caught not only all his opponents on the back foot but also many of the leading figures of his own party.

“Given the strength of the RN,” one cabinet minister observed a few weeks earlier, “I honestly cannot foresee the president dissolving the assembly.” Even Macron, it seems, could not foresee his decision, insisting as late as last month that the EU election had political consequences only for Europe, not France.

Political actors and commentators have repeatedly described Macron’s decision—one he discussed prior to his announcement with a small group of close advisors, a few of whom, including Prime Minister Gabriel Attal, reportedly tried to dissuade him—as a crapshoot. Less flatteringly, others have dismissed it as an act of a pyromaniac firefighter, or someone who sets fires to put them out. But more important than finding a label for the decision is finding a reason for it. There are several potential explanations.

First, like the revolutionary figure Georges Danton, who declared, “Audacity, more audacity, forever audacity, and the nation will be saved,” Macron prides himself on making bold moves. And, at least initially, the intent of his announcement—to catch other parties off guard—worked, except, ironically, with the RN, which had called for the dissolution of parliament and was already making plans.

No less crucially, he did so at a time when there is not just one party on the left but several. The New Ecological and Social People’s Union, the leftist coalition that coalesced before the 2022 legislative elections, proved as unwieldly as its name. The politics and personality of the man who hatched the coalition, Jean-Luc Mélenchon of the far-left La France Insoumise (LFI), soon alienated the other parties, including the Socialists and Greens, leading to the coalition’s implosion.

But Macron’s audacity has now nudged the parties on the left to be audacious. By Monday evening, they’d succeeded in bridging rather than deepening their differences. (This was, in part, fueled by the Socialist Party, bolstered by a strong showing in the EU election thanks to the role played by the charismatic head of the list, Raphaël Glucksmann.)

Invoking the name of the 1936 coalition of left-wing parties formed after an attempted coup by extremist-right forces, the leaders of LFI, the Socialists, the Communists, and the Greens (now called the Ecologists) announced the creation of “a new Popular Front representing the nation’s humanist, trade union, and civil movements.” They agreed to run a single and mutually agreed-on candidate in each constituency against the candidates representing the right and extreme right. The goal, they declared in a joint communiqué, is “to construct an alternative to Emmanuel Macron and combat the racist project of the extreme right.”

On the right, though, Macron’s move might have paid off. On Tuesday morning, Éric Ciotti, the leader of the conservative Les Républicains (LR), announced the party should accept the RN’s invitation to join them. His statement immediately sparked a firestorm of outrage and perplexity among other members of the traditionally center-right party.

Not only did it run counter to the party’s position that the RN’s agenda was antithetical to its own republican values, but it even contradicted Ciotti’s own claim, made in January, that “profound ideological differences” meant that there could never be an alliance between the two parties. Leading voices in LR voted to oust Ciotti on Wednesday (he insisted he remained leader while locking himself in the party headquarters to avoid removal). Meanwhile, voices from both Le Pen’s and Macron’s parties are calling for disillusioned LR members to “emigrate” to their respective sides.

Second, Macron’s move reflects the electoral strategy he first adopted in 2017: c’est moi ou le chaos. As he has relentlessly reminded the French, the chaos is in part embodied by Le Pen and her party. Yet this focus has had the perverse effect of helping Le Pen remake the RN.

Ever since 2011, when Le Pen in effect inherited the National Front from her father, Jean-Marie Le Pen, she has single-mindedly pursued a strategy of “de-demonization.” She purged the party of the neo-Nazis and Vichy apologists who initially filled its ranks; purged it of its name, rebaptizing it as the kinder and gentler National Rally; and rid it of her father, who could not stop insisting the Holocaust was nothing more than a “detail of history.”

Le Pen has succeeded in normalizing a party that remains deeply xenophobic, Islamophobic, authoritarian, and illiberal but has also transformed French political discourse so that these very qualities are themselves perceived as normal.

Yet Macron’s strategy risks being the disease for which it pretends to be the cure. Since 2017, he has consistently framed France’s future as a Manichaean battle between the forces of good, or Macronism, and evil, or Lepenism. But in his effort to draw conservative voters to his side, Macron has repeatedly poached in the toxic waters of Lepenism, most recently in the forced passage of an immigration bill that denies certain welfare benefits to non-nationals as well as automatic citizenship to their children born on French soil. Crucially, both of these clauses tacitly enacted one of Le Pen’s long-standing nativist demands—so-called national preference.

At the same time, he has alienated many on the left by lumping Mélenchon—whose periodically disruptive actions have violated parliamentary norms but not republican principles—in the same authoritarian and anti-republican camp as the RN.

Third, in the wake of the 2022 legislative elections, Macron’s Renaissance was denied an absolute majority in the National Assembly, and successive governments, first under Élisabeth Borne and then Attal, have struggled to pass legislation such as the pension and immigration bills. As a result, they have repeatedly invoked Article 49.3—a clause that allows the government to enact legislation without a parliamentary vote—which, although constitutional, must be used on an exceptional basis. Otherwise, as with the worldview of the RN, the deviant becomes the norm.

It is perhaps because he was tired of parliamentary paralysis that Macron decided on dissolution. As the political scientist Bruno Cautrès observed, the decision to dissolve a parliamentary assembly “is anything but an anodyne act in a democracy.” This explains why it has been used in France just five times since 1958 and the founding of the Fifth Republic. The most memorable instance was the work of Charles de Gaulle himself.

In May 1968, his presidency, perhaps even the Republic, was threatened by rebelling students and striking workers who had brought France to a standstill. In a remarkable address to the nation, de Gaulle announced the dissolution of the National Assembly, proclaiming that “the Republic shall not abdicate!” (It was the prime minister, Georges Pompidou—also skilled at craps—who gave an ultimatum to a dubious de Gaulle: either call a dissolution or lose a prime minister.)

De Gaulle rolled an eleven: French voters gave his party a solid majority. But other presidents who have tried their hand have been less fortunate. In 1997, when Jacques Chirac was two years into his presidency, he too surprised the nation by dissolving parliament and announcing new elections. His goal, he said, was to “give the people back their voices”—i.e., strengthen his position both on the right and center. Yet the people threw their voices behind the left-wing opposition, forcing a chagrined Chirac to share power with a Socialist prime minister, Lionel Jospin, for the remainder of his term.

Just as the Democratic Party thinks, perhaps magically, that American voters, though mostly holding their noses, will cast their ballots for reelecting President Joe Biden, when the French enter the polling station for two rounds of voting on June 30 and July 7, so too does Macron’s camp cling to this same conviction. This explains his stern warning that the vote will oblige the French “to assume their responsibilities.” Or, as Renaissance deputy Cécile Rilhac insisted, Macron is forcing voters to answer one question: “Are you really sure that you want to see our country governed by the National Rally?”

Rilhac may have a point. Historically, the European elections in France (as well as other EU member states) have been occasions to voice general discontent rather than actual electoral intent. As the political scientist Nonna Mayer argues, the function of European elections, especially in France, is to offer a “sanction vote,” one that places politicians on notice. Moreover, these elections draw fewer citizens to the polls than do national elections. Since nearly half of the French population did not bother to vote last weekend, there is not a broad statistical or behavioral basis to offer an accurate forecast for the legislative elections.

If the answer to Rilhac’s question is yes, other pressing questions will be raised—namely, whether exercising power will harm rather than help the RN.

Macron might be keen on the prospect of an RN victory, hoping to repeat what President François Mitterrand of the Socialist Party accomplished during his first term of office in the 1980s, when the Gaullist opposition won the legislative elections—the first though not last instance of cohabitation (when the executive branch is held by one party, while the legislative branch by another).

Back then, Mitterrand portrayed himself as a republican counterbalance to the conservative agenda that his then-prime minister, Chirac, was attempting to impose. This included harsh laws aimed at undocumented immigrants, including the revocation of automatic French nationality for the children of these immigrants born on French soil, as well as plans to make public universities more selective and expensive. When hundreds of thousands of students filled the boulevards of Paris and other cities in protest, Mitterrand declared his support.

Chirac’s government, forced to withdraw the legislation, found itself increasingly unpopular, so much so that in the 1988 presidential election, the 71-year-old Mitterrand soundly defeated his former prime minister.

But that was Mitterrand and then, not Macron and now. Macron’s policies and person have alienated many voters, especially those on the center left who once supported him. In fact, his unpopularity runs so deep and so wide that nearly 70 percent of those who intended to vote in the European election were motivated by their opposition to Macron, according to a May poll; only the most disastrous tenure in power by the RN could reverse the trend.

Given Macron’s tendency to style his rule as Jupiterian, none of this is surprising, nor would be an RN victory in the legislative elections, an event that—if it occurs—Macron will have helped to bring about.

It is apt that the elections will play out as France prepares to host the Summer Olympics. There is a chance that the world’s athletes will be welcomed by not just the French president, the supposed embodiment of the universal and humanist values of French republicanism, but also by an ethno-nationalist prime minister he was instrumental in bringing to power.

Let the games begin.

[hassedah]

hi, could you write a headcanon where y/n has complicated homework and asks for help from the boys and girls, thanks in advance

The boys help MC with its homework:

Hi! How are you? I hope you are well! ^^

Here's the headcanons you asked! Here, I assumed that the MC was at high school. It's a parental relationship with the boys. You can assume that the MC is the biological child of one of the boys or that they simply adopted a child at some point.

I hope you enjoy it! ^^

Take care of yourself and have a nice day! ^^

Vladimir :

Vladimir had teachers hired by his parents for him and his brothers and sisters. When it wasn't one of his parents who took time out to give them lessons. So he would have preferred you to have lessons at home, rather than see you go off to see other people. After all, he's worried about you and he's never sure you'll be safe at school.

He often supervises your homework. It's not that he wants to be controlling, it's just his mother-hen side shining through. On more than one occasion, he's helped you with your homework, especially when it's maths - after all, Vladimir wouldn't hesitate to do maths for fun.

Tonight you were in a bind. You don't usually do your homework at the last minute. OK, sometimes you did, but that wasn't the case this time. You'd been working on this maths assignment for over five hours. What's more, it was a graded homework - it wouldn't have been much fun otherwise. Five hours of trying, re-trying, re-re-trying to find the solution to this problem, only to come up with a different result every time. You'd tried contacting your friends for help, but they'd all had different results too. In desperation, you stared at the chandelier hanging from the ceiling for several minutes, as if the answer might have fallen from a candle.

"MC? What are you doing up at this time of night, aren't you going to school tomorrow?

-Normally if…," you mumbled, turning your head slowly towards him.

-And why are you doing your homework at this hour?"

You looked at him silently for several seconds before sighing in the same dramatic tone Raphaël might have used.

"I'm desperate, I'll never make it. It's not a failure, it's a catastrophe. I don't have a choice now, I can't give this back tomorrow, so all I have to do is drown in the swamp or change my name and leave the country.

-For God's sake, don't talk like that, you sound like Raphaël. What can't you do in this homework? It can't be that bad.

-Everything Vava. All of it. I can't do it so well that I'm questioning my own first name. It turns out that my name isn't MC and I've been wrong all along, and maybe the rain isn't rain and the wind isn't wind… I'm not even sure that 2 and 2 make 4 any more… "

Vladimir rolled his eyes when he heard you speak before pulling up a chair to sit next to you.

"Come on, don't talk nonsense and show me that instead."

You handed him the sheet before letting your head fall dramatically back onto the table. Vladimir merely sighed before beginning to read out the instructions. There was a long moment of silence before he spoke.

"That's not this year's program.

-That's what the teacher gave us," you defend yourself immediately, "I'd like to spend my afternoons doing something other than staring at a maths paper. And… how do you know it's not on the syllabus?

-I've read the syllabus.

-Nobody reads the syllabus Vava...

-I just told you I did."

You looked at him again, one eyebrow raised in doubt, before shrugging. Yes, coming from Vladimir it was actually quite logical, of course he would read this year's syllabus.

"But… if it's not on this year's syllabus, I'll never make it! You're not going to leave me with this, are you? You've got to help me, Vava.

-I wouldn't have a problem with that…" replied the vampire.

A big smile appears on your face as you cling to his arm.

"Please help me! I'll never ask you for anything again. I'll be the quietest person in this mansion. I want to go to sleep so badly, I don't want to do maths ever again. Help me, Vava!

-I'll help you, it's OK, don't shout in my ears."

You let out a cry of joy and Vladimir winced in pain, yet he made no comment and simply started doing the calculations. He was fast, very fast, and in just a few minutes your maths exercise was finished and all you had to do was copy it onto a clean sheet of paper.

Béliath :

It was her sister who taught Beliath everything. There isn't really a school in the world of succubi, well… there is one, but only for succubi, incubi and half-demons don't have access to it. So Beliath was quite enthusiastic about the idea of enrolling you in a school. He's always the first to want gossip about your classmates and the only one who really cares.

He never helps you with your homework. It's not that he's not interested, but his level in many subjects is not excellent. For example, he has no knowledge of biology, physics or chemistry, and the only knowledge he has of history is that of the periods in which he lived, and even then he confuses a lot of things.

Tonight, you had gone to bed feeling light-headed and in good spirits at the thought of being able to enjoy your bed, its wonderful blankets and comfortable pillows. Until your conscience jolted you awake, and you scrambled for your school bag full of dread before realising that you hadn't done a maths exercise. It's not that you're not good at maths, or anything, but it's three o'clock in the morning, your mind is foggy with fatigue and you feel like you can't think straight. You look at the paper in despair, you'll never get it right, the instructions seem to be written in another language.

"MC! What are you doing up? It's three in the morning!"

You jumped and almost dropped the mobile phone you were using for light before turning to Beliath.

"You could knock before coming in!

-At three in the morning? When you're supposed to be asleep?

-Yes. And how did you know I wasn't asleep anyway?

-I saw the light under your door. I got worried.

-If someone wanted to murder me they wouldn't take the time to switch the light on first… or they'd be bloody stupid.

-I worried that you weren't feeling well, that you were ill.

-Mm. Yeah, that makes sense.

-So, what are you doing?"

You shook the sheet of paper in reply and Beliath closed the door to crouch on the floor beside you.

"What's this?" the incubus asked before turning the sheet of paper over and over, as if a secret might be lurking inside.

"My maths homework…

-And... why are you doing this homework so late?

-I forgot it! It happens to everyone! I had lots of important stuff to do and lots of other homework too. We're sweltering under homework at the moment, the teachers are trying to make us all burn out. I do so much homework that I even dream about it at night.

-You're exaggerating a bit...

-Please, Bel, help me!

-No. That's your problem. I've already got mine.

-Please, Vava will kill me! I'll be buried under her cyclamen before I can say "phew". I've already completely forgotten about last week's homework. You can't leave me like this."

Beliath sighed, but he sat down next to you again. They were hieroglyphics to him, literally, why were there letters in the middle of numbers and figures?

"Yes…. No… but. Have you seen my math level? Go and ask Vladimir.

-So you really want me dead, do you?" you ask, looking into his eyes with a serious expression.

Beliath looked at you for several seconds before rolling his eyes, no doubt you spent a lot of time with Raphaël to manage to be as dramatic as he was.

"Rah, it's OK. I'll help you… but don't expect it to be a success…"

You would have howled with joy, if you hadn't been afraid of alerting Vladimir. Beliath took your paper before starting work. He was rather slow, but little by little you managed to find the solution, even if it took you a long hour and by the end you felt as if you were constantly on the verge of falling asleep.

Ivan :

Ivan is one of the few members of the manor who actually went to public school. It's not an activity he enjoyed very much and often he would have preferred to be elsewhere. So he doesn't hesitate to cover for you when he knows you've skipped lessons. After all, he always feels sorry for you when you tell him that you still have a lesson with Mrs Delanay.

He sometimes helps you with your homework, quite often in fact. He wasn't particularly attentive in class and rarely did his homework, but that doesn't mean he didn't understand what was going on. He always got better marks in the arts, but art and music were fascinating courses, much more so than physics or chemistry…

You glanced angrily at the sheet of paper in front of you, and if it had been able to see your gaze, no doubt it would have run away to avoid your wrath… unfortunately, it was a sheet of paper, a sheet of paper with an art exercise on it. It wasn't that you weren't gifted in the subject, it was just that you had no inspiration for the subject "something scary" as your teacher had said, but well, you live with six vampires who organise blood-drinking parties in your own home, so your idea of what's scary isn't really the same as your classmates', so you're in danger of going off topic…

A desperate sigh escapes your lips as you let your head fall back against the table.

"Aren't you feeling well MC?"

You flinch as you hear Ivan's voice behind you, the vampire standing in the doorway to the living room, you shrug defeatedly.

"I've got writer's block... but for the painter... I'll never finish this project...

-Don't say that," Ivan consoles you, coming to sit next to me. What do you have to do? I was pretty good at drawing when I was at school, and Pierrick's a good teach.

You handed him the sheet of paper with the instructions on it with a sad look on your face and Ivan read it. Finally, he scratched his head before putting the sheet down again.

"Yeah, I can see the problem… your notion of scary is probably not the same as everyone else's.

-Right! What do I do now?

-We could ask Aaron…

-I have to do a drawing, an art painting, not give nightmares to the teacher and the rest of the class!

-That's true…" mumbled Ivan.

-I'm stuck… I've been at it for hours… I can't come up with any ideas, I'm struggling and yet I'm trying… What's more, thinking about it all the time makes my brain feel like it's slowing down."

Ivan nodded. He understood the problem pretty well. You were both silent for several seconds before he exclaimed.

"Oh, oh, I've got an idea!. Do the Twisted Man from Conjuring.

-The twisted man… Ivan, that's not scary…, you protest. Stopping Beliath's mother from killing us all, that was scary!

-Yes, it's not scary for you, but it could be for others. You could take inspiration from the Slenderman.

-Is the Slenderman scary?" you ask, full of doubt.

-He was very popular when I was at school, everyone told stories about him.

You sigh, it might be a good idea, if you change it enough.

-Anyway, it's not like I've got any other ideas. Let's just try this…"

You looked up reference images on your mobile phone with Ivan's help, and the vampire even went to the library for a moment to look for art books that might help you find inspiration. You stopped for a moment to look at a series of engravings depicting Dances Macabre from medieval times. Ivan made a few sketches with you to try and give you some ideas. At the end of the day, you finally had a drawing that you thought was good enough to give to your teacher.

Ivan :

Aaron never set foot in a school; his mother taught him everything. It was nice of course, but he didn't learn to read and write very well because of it and if his mother hadn't had to do the accounts for her dressmaking job, he probably wouldn't have learned to do maths. The idea of you going to a school was therefore very appealing to him. Like Vladimir, however, he was worried about your safety at school and insisted on visiting it himself. Did he frighten your teachers and classmates? Yes, a bit, but at least nobody bothers you.

He doesn't often help you with your homework. It's not that he doesn't want to, it's just that apart from a few history subjects, poetry and fauna and flora, he knows he doesn't have the necessary knowledge to be useful to you.

This evening you were working on a presentation given by your history teacher. "The Hundred Years' War". You were looking at the paper in front of you with some frustration. You still had a little time to finish the paper, but you wanted to get it perfect. It would, after all, be the last straw to live with vampires and fail your history presentation. You crossed your arms and groaned at your poster. This was the fourth time you'd done it and you still didn't like it. How could you talk about this war in just 10 minutes?

You sighed again, before pulling out a new poster to start all over again.

"MC? You seem annoyed tonight, is something wrong?"

You gasped as you heard Aaron's voice behind you, narrowly missing dropping your pen.

"Aaron! Don't come in like that! You'll give me a heart attack.

-Sorry," laughed the wolf, before walking over and looking at what you're working on. The Hundred Years' War… I fought in that…

-I know, you've already told me…, you turned slowly to your work before sighing again. I can't do it Aaron… I've been doing it over and over again for hours and it never satisfies me.

-You're too hard on yourself. Do you want me to help you?

-You'd help me," you exclaim, turning to Aaron.

-Of course, since I'm offering. Tell me exactly what you have to do."

Your eyes lit up at the news, Aaron is concise and to the point. You don't think you could find anyone better suited than him to help you sum up the Hundred Years' War in ten minutes or so. You explain your subject quickly and the wolf nods.

"Yes, I can see the problem, it's not easy to summarise such a war in such a short time. We'll see what we can do, don't worry. I'd start by giving a brief summary of the context, the main belligerents, then the stakes, maybe a brief aside on one of the battles, if you have time, and finally the consequences of the war.

-That would be about two minutes per subject…

-You don't have to talk about a battle if you think it's too short. The most important thing is the context, what's at stake and the consequences. For the belligerents, you can assume that the rest of your class already knows them."

You nodded before starting to look for an outline for your presentation. Aaron's advice was useful; even though he often underestimates his ability to speak eloquently, the turns of phrase he suggests have the advantage of being both beautiful and precise. Little by little, your presentation is refined, and after two hours of work it's almost entirely finished, and Aaron also seems satisfied. Once you've finished, you practise your presentation and you're right on time.

Raphaël :

He had teachers hired by his parents and learned to paint with his father. He wasn't really an attentive student, at least not when it came to anything that didn't have to do with art. He skipped a lot of lessons to go out and play with his friends and more than once fell asleep during lessons. Like Vladimir, he would have preferred you to have lessons at home, where at least he's sure you're safe. Unlike Vladimir, he totally covers for you if you skip lessons, listen, he used to do the same thing, he's not going to criticise.

Sometimes he helps you with your homework. As long as it's not maths, physics or biology. He's very knowledgeable on most subjects, but he often talks too much. You can't ask him a question without him launching into long explanations that don't really relate to your question in the end.

Tonight, you were revising one last time for your music lesson the next day, or rather for your music exam. You knew the piece by heart, you'd played it many times without the slightest mistake, but last night you couldn't do it any more. You cursed the piano with an angry growl. Why was it so difficult? It was supposed to be simple, but your fingers were getting all tangled up and making a mess of the keys.

Not wanting to admit defeat, you tried again, your fingers glided over the piano keys with a certain degree of habit, but they slipped on the last few notes, and you let out a raging howl as you barely restrained yourself from hitting the poor piano.

"MC, MC, calm down. You're too stressed to play tonight…"

You turned towards Raphaël, who had just entered the large living room.

"My exam is tomorrow, I can't stop until it's perfect," you reply immediately. "I can't present something that's only passable.

-It won't be "just passable", you're playing very well MC. But you've been playing for hours, and anyone in your place would be exhausted. I'm sure that if you take a break to relax a bit and enjoy yourself, you'll be able to do it again.

-But I can't relax at the moment," you protest. I could do it perfectly yesterday!"

At the end of your sentence, you let your head fall back to stare at the ceiling. Raphaël moves a little closer to you as he continues to speak.

"I know how frustrating it can be when you don't get to play what you want to play and I can assure you that a bit of rest can work wonders. I'll make you some hot chocolate if you like and you can tell me what fun you've had this week. When you try again later I'm sure you'll be able to do it.

-I don't have much interesting to say," you mumble wearily.

-I'm sure you're right, there's always something funny going on at your school," Raphaël smiles at you before putting a hand on your shoulder. Didn't you do a play not long ago?

-Oh no, please don't talk about this any more!" you mumble, thinking with your hands on your face.

Raphaël laughs before answering, "I'm going to the kitchen to make some hot chocolate and get some cakes, so why don't you sit down at the table and wait for me.

Raphaël left and after a sigh you decided to get up and go and sit at the table in the living room. He brought you a cup of hot chocolate while you continued to stare at the piano, as well as the little biscuits he had promised you, which were indeed your favourites. You ate them, mumbling mainly about your music lessons, before slowly changing the subject as the discussion progressed. Raphaël asked you questions about what you were doing at school and about your friends. You relaxed little by little until you were smiling again.

When you sat down again to play the piano later that evening, you managed the piece without making a single mistake.

Ethan :

Along with Ivan, Ethan is the only one who went to a state school. He was a very good pupil, without really needing to work. He always had an ability to understand things easily and he took advantage of that a lot, mainly by being inattentive in class and acting like a clown in the classroom. He thought the idea of sending you to high school was a good one, after all, you'd be bored to death if all you had for company were a bunch of boring old vampires. Like Aaron, he's only worried about the problems you might encounter, as long as none of your classmates are bothering you he's not worried.

He doesn't help you with your homework in general, unless you're having trouble with a physics, chemistry or biology assignment, but he does this by complaining (in fact, he's happy to help you, but he still hates the idea of having to do homework, even when it's not his own).

This evening, you were trying to finish a chemistry assignment… trying, because you'd been at it all morning and you'd finally got to the last exercise. You'd almost finished, which was the most important thing, but your eyes were falling out from exhaustion and you couldn't understand anything about the last exercise. It wasn't for want of trying to understand, though. You read and reread and reread the instructions, but nothing made sense any more. It was as if the instructions for the exercise had suddenly been written in a language you didn't understand.

You sighed before letting your head fall back into your arms, the thought of working even just five minutes longer made you want to cry. Why had the teacher given you such a long and complicated exercise! None of the other teachers did that, she was always the only one to make you crumble over exercises, each more complicated than the last. A third sigh escaped your lips. You still had that damned exercise to do.

"You look desperate tonight, is something wrong?"

You gasped before turning to Ethan. He was standing in the doorway looking at you. You couldn't help but sigh again before pointing to all the papers scattered on the table around you.

"I've still got a chemistry exercise to do… and I can't take it any more…

-I can see that," Ethan replies before coming closer. "Come on, show me this exercise. You're going to make a hurricane sighing like that."

You handed him the sheet, too happy to get help to think of protesting. Ethan read the instructions before frowning.

"That's a lot of work for one person," Ethan points out.

-It's because of the teacher," you answer. It's always like that with her… She gives us more homework than all the other teachers in the school put together.

-Can't you tell her that she's giving you too much work?

-If it was as simple as that I wouldn't do it…" you sigh again before slumping back in the chair. I'm fed up… I'm so tired I want to cry… plus I don't understand anything she's asking. I'm going to go crazy if this keeps up…"

Ethan looks at you as you stare exhaustedly at your work on the table. Normally he'd run away, but you look so tired he can't bring himself to do it.

"MC? How long have you been working on all this?" asks the vampire, gesturing towards your homework.

-Since this morning… "

Ethan sighs before sitting down next to you.

"Come on, give it up. I'll do the last exercise for you."

You sit up suddenly, surprised by the announcement, and exclaim.

"What?! What? Really?

-Yes, I really do. I'm not saying this as a joke and I'm only doing it because you look exhausted.

-Thank you Ethan," you sigh in relief before letting your head fall back into your arms. I could never have finished it without you."

The vampire rolls his eyes but starts to do the exercise, while you, without even realising it, have fallen asleep slumped on the table.

Neil :

Neil has always enjoyed learning things. If he'd been liked by his father, he'd probably have had much better teachers, but he had to learn a lot on his own. He wasn't really keen on the idea of you going to a school… do you really want to be around stupid, useless humans on a regular basis? He could have paid teachers to give you lessons at home… But he gave in to your demands. But you can't go to just any school! You have to go to the best private school in the area. After all, you can't just go to anyone.

He'll help you with your homework as soon as you ask, listen, he wants you to become as good as he is and it won't work if he refuses to help you or explain what he knows. What's more, he'd be lying if he said he didn't enjoy teaching - it's really something he enjoys.

This evening you had an essay to do on the subject of 'Thaumaturgic kings', which was no easy task for you or your classmates. You'd been staring at the paper for half an hour without coming up with a plan for your dissertation. A quick search on the internet brought you across some university articles that were far too complicated for your level of understanding. You were at lycée, not university, and understanding all the nuances of these articles was just giving you a headache.

To top it all off, the teacher gave you some sources… in old French… so largely incomprehensible, just trying to decipher the writing made you feel like you were in an Indiana Jones film. You sighed in despair, you were never going to make it, that was a certainty and you couldn't afford to fail, it was out of the question.

"MC? You look sad tonight, is something wrong?"

You turned back to Neil, who was reading on the sofa, and sighed.

"I have to do an essay, but I can't understand the subject… let alone the sources… Why did people write so badly?

-Show me what your problem is. I might be able to help."

You handed Neil the exercise sheet as he came to join you at the table, and he sat down next to you to read it carefully.

"I see… "Thaumaturgic kings" refers to the healing powers granted to the king after his coronation. It's probably a rather complicated subject for someone your age…

-I don't know what to do, the teacher told us to do something simple, but I'm already struggling to understand what's going on and the sources are illegible!"

Neil bent down to pick up the sources you were pointing out before smiling.

"It's true that I've seen better writing… and there are a lot of abbreviations… didn't your teacher transcribe it for you in a more legible way?

-No. He left us with this!

-All right, then. I'll help you then. I'll start by reading the source for you, I think that'll be easier."

You nodded before bending over the text to try to follow. It was complicated, to say the least, and you interrupted Neil several times to try and understand certain abbreviations. Neil explained them to you patiently and little by little you even managed to decipher certain words.

"Wait, wait," you interrupted suddenly. Did you say Jean?

-Yes.

-But wait, Jean, it wasn't written like that before.

-Yes, it was. That's the problem with this kind of text - the spelling wasn't fixed.

-Not fixed, not fixed, there are limits after all, he could have decided on a way of writing it and stuck to it.

Neil laughs at your confusion before showing you another spelling a little further down the text.

"It's written in a different way here".

You sigh, a little disappointed by such unstable spelling, before continuing to listen to Neil.

You work on your essay together for a while longer, gradually understanding the subject better and better, and coming up with a plan for your essay no longer seems insurmountable. You quickly finish the work before going out for a walk in town with Neil.

Léandra :

She went to a sort of school for succubi when she was a child. It wasn't her favourite thing to do and most of the time she just skipped classes. Most things she learned from her mother or other older succubi. She was a bit put off by your idea of wanting to go to a school because… well it's not the most fun place in the world, but she gave in after all, if that's all it takes to please you.

She doesn't often help you with your homework. More often than not, she doesn't really understand it. Her knowledge of many human subjects is rather vague and she doesn't see the point in going into it any further. Occasionally, when she's in a good mood or the subject interests her, she'll come to you and try to help, although this is quite rare, but her help is always appreciated.

This evening you were working on an exercise that your art teacher had given you. You had to work on a painting about Julius Caesar, more precisely the painting : The Assassination of Julius Caesar by Karl Theodor Von Piloty. The painting was rather interesting, but you didn't really know how to talk about it. No matter how hard you looked for information about the painter, you couldn't find any. You sighed as you continued your search.

"Who's that guy?"

You jumped as Léandra appeared behind you, pointing at César on the painting.

An emperor," you reply.

-And… it's normal for him to be assassinated?

-Well, given that is Caesar… yes."

Léandra remains silent for a moment, shaking her head, seemingly deep in thought, then continues.

"It was the Roman emperor who had sex with Cleopatra? Was it?

-Yes, that's it," you answer.

The discussion ends and You continue to look through the books while Léandra stands around you without moving, finally you turning round once more to ask her.

"Do you want anything?

-What should you do with this painting?

-A presentation.

-Sounds boring… can't your teacher teach you to paint instead? That would probably be more fun.

-No… Are you going to stand over my shoulder for much longer? If you've got nothing better to do, you can help me, you know?"

You had proposed the idea without the slightest hope that Léandra would accept, and yet to your astonishment, she sat down at the table next to you before looking at you.

"What do you want me to do?

-Um… I need to gather some information about the painting and the painter to do my presentation… but it's a bit complicated, I can't find much…

-Okay, I'll help you. "

You continued to stare at Leandra as she suddenly started rummaging through the books for you. It was rather unusual, to be honest, and it took you several seconds to manage to concentrate again on the book you were reading before she interrupted you.

In the end, with Léandra's help you found a lot more information than if you'd searched on your own. It didn't take you long to write your talk and set up the power point for the presentation. And once you'd finished everything, Léandra invited you to go out with her into town so that you could finally have some fun.

Farah :

Farah learnt everything she needed to know from her older brother after they left the family. She learned to read and write from him, and he taught her all about flora and fauna and how to look after herself. So when you told her you wanted to go to a high school, she was all for it. But it was a bit complicated, the pack travels a lot and you couldn't travel with them while studying. So she rented you a small flat near the school and visits you every weekend to see how you're doing.

She will help you with your homework whenever she can, but can only do so at weekends. Farah is always happy to do this for you. She is, of course, much better at helping you with subjects such as flora and fauna or history. However, if she doesn't master something in particular, she can always find a member of the pack to help you.

This evening, you sat in your living room with your homework, waiting for Farah to arrive. You were working on an exercise about the beginnings of human agriculture. It wasn't as easy as you had initially hoped, and little by little your mind was getting muddled. You jumped when you heard the front door open and rushed to meet Farah, who was calling you.

"Farah!" you exclaimed with palpable joy. "I thought you'd get here later!

-We walked faster than I expected," smiled the werewolf. How was your week? Have you got a lot of homework today? I thought I'd take you shopping with the pack when you'd finished."

-I've been working for hours on an exercise on the beginnings of human agriculture.

-I see. Do you need any help?

You quickly looked over all the work you still had to do. Of course, you were capable of doing it on your own, but it had been so long since you'd spent time with the pack and Farah that the idea of spending the day on homework instead of having fun depressed you. You nodded.

"Yes, please!"

-All right, I'll help you then. The sooner it's done, the sooner we can go and enjoy ourselves."

Farah followed you into the living room, smiling, and you sat down around the table. As you worked, you told her what you had done during the week.

"Are you having a good time at high school at the moment?

-Yes, we are. We're preparing a play! We haven't decided which one we're going to do yet, but we can choose between : Sleeping Beauty, Little Red Riding Hood and Alice in Wonderland.

-Well, that sounds like fun, I hope you'll let me know when we can come and see it with the pack.

-Oh no, Farah, I'm going to get noticed if you all come."

The she-wolf laughed in amusement at your reaction, before resuming a few seconds later.

-You can ask Willie if you're nervous. He used to perform on stage when he was still human, so he knows how to deal with that sort of thing."

You nodded as you continued your homework, and with Farah's help it only took you an hour to finish it all. You left shortly afterwards to join the pack and go shopping together.

[sadcambion]

What's good about bg3 (Especially Raphaël) is that it motivated me again to write fanfic and draw things. This cambion has eaten away at my brain so much that it has literally become a specific interest of mine. No joke, It helped me get out of my deep depression and get back to doing the things I like. Please I hope I'm not the only person in this situation... :')

[jean-dieu]

OC Mannerism! Feat. Raphaël, Ziel and Lazare

Inspired by @the-raging-tempest, @dujour13 and others!

Raphaël:

He looks taller than he really is. Sure, the horns add quite a few centimeters, but he always stands very straight, tall and proud, almost imposing.

He has a perpetual frown on his face. He doesn't even notice it most of the time, it's just his resting face. When he's angry or nervous, he tends to tap his hoof nervously on the ground.

He tugs on his shirt a lot to straighten it often.

Tends to run a hand through his hair, especially when his shaggy bangs are getting a bit too long. He has been thinking about changing his haircut for years now but he never does it.

He likes tapping his claws on his desk when filling reports.

Bites his lower lips when lost in thoughts.

Usually good at controlling his tail except when he's really excited or happy. That's a better giveway on his current mood than his facial expression.

When he's angry, he can snarl and growl.

Likes cracking his neck and fingers.

Smiling is very unusual for him. Really. At best, he stops frowning. No frown + restless tail = a very happy Raphaël.

Tends to wrap his tail around Sosiel's legs or waist when they're together.

His voice is naturally low and deep, and he always sounds like he's scolding you.

Absolutely loves when someone run a hand through his fur but will never admit it. Sighs softly when Sosiel does so.

Sleeps on his back, all straight, staring at the ceiling.

When he's alone and a bit overwhelmed, closes his eyes for a moment and takes a deep sigh.

When he gets angry he can hit things around him just to pass his nerves on something. He tries to control it though.

Ziel:

Scratches his scales on his arms very often, or picks them.

Bites his claws, and they're quite jagged.

As a kid, he used to bite his tail while teething.

His ears are very expressive, and can lower even more when he's sad or perks up when he's surprised or excited.

Forces himself to smile more normally to not flash his sharp, crooked teeth and snake-like mouth. So he's usually just smirking.

Twists his tongue in his mouth a lot.

Is very fidgety in general. Struggles to sit down. Always moving his legs, bending on his chair, doing something with his tail or fingers.

Slouches quite a lot. Very bendy.

Sits weirdly in general.

Tiptoes a lot.

Makes jokes at the worst moment to make up for his nervousness.

Makes self-depreciating jokes all the time to avoid hearing them from others.

Enjoys making a burrito of himself in his cloak.

Likes heights a lot. Loves spending time on Absalom's roofs on his own.

Likes to bury his face in his dog's fur.

He's an edgy, sarcastic teenage boy EXCEPT with his dog who he showers with love and cares and caresses and everything.

Forged himself a mischievous laugh as a young teen. He can't stop doing it now.

His way of talking is a bit peculiar. A bit of a posh accent from the Absalom bouregeoisie yet knows his way with street slangs.

His voice is coarse and raspy, as if he's always a bit sick.

Likes to pull up the middle finger at any little inconvenience.

Wears many layers to hide how scrawny he really is.

Lazare:

Can't stop trying to fit his tongue through his front tooth gap.

Shakes his head a lot to not have curls in front of his eyes. Also likes to do this to make his earrings move.

Likes to make sounds while walking in heels.

Likes to twist and turn his rings. Likes to play with his numerous pieces of jewlery.

When he's talking, he uses his hands a lot. He likes to make grand gestures and theatrical movements. He tells any little anecdotes like if it was a tragedy.

Likes to lay down or sits on the ground.

Likes to twirl curls around his fingers.

Has an incredible voice range and is good at voice acting. Can speak and sing in a very, very low and deep voice or very high pitched.

His natural voice is quite high pitched though.

Speaks incredibely fast, with a strong accent. Can be hard to follow through whatever he's saying, especially since he's terrible at focusing on something and he can ramble for hours.

Can fall asleep in any circumstances. Two chairs in a middle of a party is a decent bed enough.

Winks a lot.

Tail has a mind on its own.

Has the bad habit of interrupting people when they talk, but often stops right after doing it, apologizing.

Has always a bit of candies or biscuits on him. He is the snacks provider.

Pockets are full of random trinkets. An earring, two funny rocks, a coin from another country, a half eaten gummy, crumbs of biscuits and a button or two.

Doesn't care about being naked or not in front of others.

Is in general kind of childish. With his youthful appearance, he's often seen as younger than he really is.

[alcidence]

Cerese

Cerese feelin' fresh and funky. I tried to experiment at my old style, had a mental breakdown and then got back to this piece, mostly trying to be inspired by MAF and Raphaëlle to get more comfortable in stylization of stuff.

[4alarmfirecracker]

You can find the drive link for ep “5x02 - Mais c'est pour si longtemps!" in the discord. Our favorite duo is back again to be ... double agents ? Triple agents ? Who knows ...

In spite of themselves, Astrid and Raphaëlle find themselves at the heart of a high-profile diplomatic affair involving the French and American secret services.

Discord link: https://discord.gg/Dx6K5bR

[squid-de]

DRACULA, THE COUNT — "I'm shivering different. This shit ain't nothing to me, man. I'm a black hound. I'm licking my wounds in the grass. We smoking opportunistic microorganisms. Smoking that Roustame Diodore south Advesperascit page-three girl deluxe cryptozoological protoplasmic kush. We smoking Col Do Ma Ma Daqua. I'm on twelve Pyrholidons, smoking on phasmatodean dick. We smoking that Boogie Street boogers? We snorting that good Franconigerian cavalry jibbies. They must have retrograde amnesia, they forgot that I'm *Raphaël Ambrosius Costeau*. That Pox pack hittin' that pussy smell, like a Coupris Kineema. We smoking shit in apricot faïence, blowing Her Innocence's bubbles. I'm sick in the head. I'm on them Coal City tic-tacs. I'm on them Yekokataa apple nibblers. I'm on them Tioumoutiri geronimos. I left my prybar in the lorry, I'll have to can-open them next time. I don't give a fuck if I go hobo. I don't need to see the hostel bill anyway. We s-- ...I'm high on twelve Dick Mullens looking to beat the viscous goo out of a fresh Puta peone. We smoking spirit bombs, you stupid piece of shit! I'll fucking eat your mind! Call that pussy the Coalition Government, 'cause I'm in this bitch, and I *can't get out*. Last guy who ran off on the precinct got choked out by some Fairweather T-500 gauntlets. The last thing he ever saw was the kinetic redistributors on them. Slowly faded into the pale, and I let the Angel of History take him. I need some Boogie Street boogers! Don't be shy girl, *I want to have fuck with you*. I'm shivering like Arno van Eyck. Bwee?! Welcome to the Apricot Suzerainty, bitch, open up! Guillaume le Million, I suck his cocaine out of another man's eyeballs. My hetero-sexual life partner a speedfreak, he look like Guillaume Bevy. You ain't seen ten centims in your life, bino! Reach for my wrist and you'll get turned into a Game Over. Y'all gotta stop playing with me, man. I threw the Filippian crown jewels at Le Petit Rat catacombs under Corpus Mundi. I have built 0.000% of Communism. This shit ain't *nothing* to me, man. Tied the SKULLS to the back of a motor carriage and dragged 'em around Rue de Saint Ghislaine for twenty-four hours. Motherfucker! Looked like a pinball goat after we was done with him. SKULLS wanted some initiative, blew up their entire tenement. I'm shivering like Franconegro. She drop that ass on me from an internally coherent angle, they thought I was Kras Mazov. Top-shelf pilsner, disrupted my infra-materialism. I have seen the March decree, I have seen *le Retour*. I was Jamrock shuffling for the Perikarnassian before you all even became an isola. This shit ain't nothing to me, you stupid piece of shit. Drive the Motorway South and you will *dither*. That pussy feel like Samaran butter. You think I care about this shit? Ask me if I care about this shit, 'cause I don't give a shit. If I had a reál for every time they said I gave a shit, I'd be broke, 'cause I don't give a shit. My ex-something look like Dolores Dei. I grooved so hard they thought I was Ostentatious Orchestrations. This shit ain't *nothing* to me, man, I'll pale-bomb you, you stupid piece of shit!"