#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"

[lost-in-fandoms]

https://www.tumblr.com/lost-in-fandoms/762168056269144064/thinking-about-streamer-max-who-lowkey-does?source=share

Omg. Omg!!!! Streamer Max my beloved! What does Daniel do when he stumbles onto Max's stream? I'm just imagining him clicking on a random link or something and suddenly bam he's got a face full of this pretty streamer with slutty short shorts!

(Anyway love your work and hope you have a great day!! 🥰)

You are so sweet I hope you have a great day too!!

Some slutty streamer Max to try and have something good to end the day with

Daniel sighs, rolling over towards the bedside table and grabbing his phone, checking the time for what feels like the twentieth time that night already.

4:42 am.

Just twenty minutes after the last time he checked.

He sighs again, sitting up slightly to drink some water, resigned to the fact that he'll probably won't get any sleep tonight either. If he's lucky, he'll get a couple hours when the sun is rising and then sneak a nap in somewhere during the afternoon.

He knows that jet lag is not helping, having landed in Perth from Los Angeles just two days ago, but he's been dealing with this insomnia for way too long to lie to himself any further. Sleep simply isn't coming.

He's tried most things already tonight, from the relaxing herbal tea his mom had recommended, to the white noise machine, to the podcasts, to the meditation. Nothing has worked.

He grabs his phone again, going through some of his messages and emails before clicking on the twitch app.

It's something new he's been trying the past couple of weeks, doesn't even remember who recommended it to him, and so far it hasn't worked, but at this point into the night he's willing to do anything. Whoever it was who first told him about it had been speaking about ASMR streams and music channels, but Daniel has been mostly browsing around, not really finding anything that catches his eye.

Tonight, he moves past the few streams he has followed already, scrolling through the live channels without looking for anything in particular, until something catches his eyes.

At first glance the stream doesn't look like anything special, even if the game itself looks cute, just a guy in a dimly lit room in a corner of the screen, mouth moving to say words Daniel can't hear yet, but.

The guy is sitting on a gaming chair, leaning back slightly in a way that Daniel doubts is fully comfortable, legs splayed, his short shorts bunched up to leave milky skin on display. He's using both hands to play, but just as Daniel is watching, slightly transfixed, he laughs, probably at something in chat, and brings one hand away to lightly scratch at his neck and then down to his leg, pulling it more to the side, fingers grazing on his crotch.

Daniel swallows.

He taps on the screen, opening the stream without really thinking about it, finally letting the guy's voice play through the speakers.

"...just for 40 more minutes. No, you cannot bribe me for one hour, Kiks, not even if you use the cute emote. I have work."

He has an accent, a lisp that comes out when he says Kiks, bright blue eyes and a lovely smile. And a hand that is still on his dick.

Daniel's eyes fall on the name of the stream, Farming some slimes, which tells him nothing, and the name of the game, Slime Rancher 2, which tells him that at least he's not in some sort of secret porn category, before going back to the camera square.

The guy is now playing again, hands just barely in view from where they're wrapped around the controller, and Daniel takes a breath, trying to gather his bearings after feeling like he's just been hit over the head with an hammer.

The chat is scrolling by slowly, his 236 viewers obviously not all interested in talking, so Daniel has no problem catching the last few messages. It's mostly people complaining about the guy leaving early, the person he was talking to earlier, KicksforKiks24, offering to gift some subs if he stays longer, and Daniel wonders if he is the only one noticing the absolutely sinful thighs on display here.

Nightnectior: What if I ask really nicely Max?

The new message pops up in chat, and Daniel watches as the streamer, Max apparently, laughs again, shaking his head.

"No, Night, I told you, I have things to do early in the morning."

Okay, maybe Daniel is the weird one here. Maybe he is the only one thinking about Max's legs and reading his posture wrong. Maybe he is the only perv in this chat, and everyone else is absolutely normal.

Severson: would love to see you do /things/ in the morning

Daniel chokes on his spit.

He's expecting Max to ignore it, or to delete the message, or to have any kind of reasonable reaction, but Max.

Max grins.

He blinks slowly, shifting on the chair almost casually, bringing one foot up to rest on the seat, shorts bunching up so much Daniel can see a hint of pubes, the outline of his balls and dick now fully visible, and then sliding a hand down his thigh to rest on his lower belly, fingers grazing his crotch again.

"Would you?" he asks, voice low.

Daniel has forgotten what Max's asking about. He's forgotten about anything that isn't the desire of sinking his teeth in the meat of his thigh, to have them wrapped around his head, and the knowledge that his dick is half hard already.

"I don't think that's how it works," Max says, in response to a message Daniel doesn't even care to look at right now. He's barely aware of the chat going faster now, more messages popping up in a rapid succession.

"Oh look at all of you, coming out to play."

Max's hand slides lower, now fully on his dick, as he giggles, a sliver of his stomach exposed too. Daniel's heart is beating in his ears. He doesn't know what's happening.

There's a new sound on the stream, something that startles Daniel out of his daze enough to realise someone has just donated €50 just to call Max a pretty boy.

Daniel wonders how hard it is to figure out how donations work. How much he can donate without his bank blocking his account. How much it would take for Max to do something.

He swallows, feeling slightly insane.

Max's fingers squeeze once.

Daniel's breath stutters in his chest, his hands twitching, wanting to touch himself too but so transfixed he doesn't dare moving.

And then Max shifts, grabbing the controller again and sitting up a bit, shirt falling back into place. Even if the outline of his dick is still clearly visible, something in the spell breaks, letting Daniel breathe again.

He can still feel his heart rabbiting in his chest, his mouth dry. His dick is hard under the sheets.

With a trembling finger, Daniel presses follow.

[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.

•

•

⚡️

[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

[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.

[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

[shytastemakerthing]

If its alright, can I have a TWST matchup? Romantic and platonic if possible pls! Sorry if I overdid it I got a little anxious about what to put lol. Take your time and make sure to take care of yourself. 💙

I am about 5'6 with chest length brown hair that I am growing it out so I can do hairstyles with my sister. I'm nearsighted plus see double so I wear glasses. I have eczema on my arms. I am around 120 pounds and prefer wearing soft baggy gender neutral clothing. I normally look a tamed mess now a days cuz I'm at home 24/7 taking care of my grandma, but when going out I try to look "presentable".

I'm a Scorpio and my MBTI is INFJ-T. I am autistic so how I interact with people varies. Around people I don't really know I'm really quiet and polite, but towards people I don't like I tend to be more passive-aggressive and bitchy. I've had a few friends say that I'm terrifing when pissed off or if someone is being bigoted. I do know that I'm pretty quick to start a fight verbal or physical if my friends are being messed with. I do like to tease my family and friends a lot, but if I see I'm getting close to a boundary I try to pull back. With loved ones I'm overall just more comfortable with being a little silly.

I have pretty simple likes and dislikes. Like I love animals and have had various pets in the past as well as a dog right now. Drawing is one of my passions though I'm trying to get past my anxiety of showing people my art. I absolutely love to sing and I'm willing to listen to (almost) anything, but I love musicals more than anything. It's pretty easy for me to starting rambling about something I'm hyperfixated on then get a little embarrassed. I enjoy the cold more heat because I'm prone to heat strokes. Though exercising is difficult for me I love roller skating. My whole family loves video games so I grew up playing and really loving them. I have difficulties reading so I don't really enjoy it and use to hate it. I have a couple of fears like bug, clowns, and swimming. Sometimes talking is really hard for me cuz of my memory issues, slight lisp, and overall difficulty with pronuncing words, so I don't talk much and enjoy listen to people a lot more.

My love language is pretty evenly spread out, but I enjoy quality time with some sort of physical contact the most.

Varies health stuff that are unfortunately important about me: So, I was born without a sense of smell and with it food is very difficult for me. Most food looks very weird and gross to me, so I rely on texture the most with food. I do have fun making people skirm when they forget about my lack of smell though. I have a diagnosis for anxiety and memory issues, but my therapist agrees that I have more mental health related things. When I was young I had gotten myositis in my legs. Myositis is just muscle weakness caused by your immune system attacking your muscles. Symptoms come and go in episodes/flare ups so when I first got it I was in a wheelchair for six months. I still can't fully recover my leg strength so walking is still difficult if I do it too much.

Hello and thank you so much for this request! I hope that this match-up finds you well and I am so sorry as to how long it took for me to get this out to you! I hope that you enjoy it! I will do the romantic one first and as soon as I catch up on requests, I shall do the platonic!

Tw: None

I match you with...........

Jamil Viper

He is very much used to taking care of people (Kalim), and he has been doing it all of his life.... but it is different for you

Because you are his beloved partner

While he is forced to take care of Kalim, he takes care of you because he wants too

Is your eczema beginning to act up once more? (As someone who also has eczema, I understand this quite literal pain), he has the best remedies sent in from the Scalding Sands and will certainly help.

You don't know where he gets that lotion but by the sevens, the relief that you feel as he puts it on is unreal

With your lack of a sense of smell, he knows that this will certainly impact your food tastes and he will adjust accordingly

Jamil pays extra attention to how to react and respond to certain foods and will make adjustments to better suit your tastes, just so long as you are able to enjoy yourself

Another one who can't stand bugs (rather ironic for a man who grew up in what is basically a desert.... which is known for a lot of bugs), so good luck having some help when it comes to taking care of them

Okay.... if it is really small, he may try to squish it or something, but you have had to stop him more than once from lighting the thing on fire

You both enjoy whatever time it is that you are able to have with one another. He is usually quite busy, between taking care of Kalim, his club, duties as a vice hoursewarden, on top of his normal studies. But if you are both just able to be in the same room as one another, he certainly loves that

Speaking of his club, you are more than welcome to join him at the Basketball club. It's nice and air conditioned so you don't have to worry about getting too hot, and he loves that you come to see him

Overall, Jamil is a very attentive lover, doing what he had to be able to meet your needs and to ensure that you are well taken care of. He will continue to love and cherish you for as long as you allow him.

Thank you for your request!!

[reigningmax]

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

[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...

[valgasnewsthings]

All falling down from my hands.

 Stress today having in any time and in any place , and this is not means,that   for a soul calming you must need to avoid it all, that true worry you , and these are flirting, love adventures,   travellings, interesting meetings and dates. These are all giving a taste for your life, degree, and pleasure. But of course, and risk for stress on a strong external irritation. Here is importance his intensively, and if worries are very hard, you can to sick. But if reason true shock of lottery win, or meet with beloved, which left you year ago. Negative or positive emotions knocking out us from track, thus a not reason for staying depressive , but with everybody these are happening, that nothing happening good at work, home, you are angry.But a few are true crying and depressing, and a few are true trying restoring these problems, you are not believe and not trust in itself, but not suffered from depression. And you can to pity for other peoples, that asking for regret me , but if others will clean your tears, to lisp, thus from depressed they are not removing very soon. 

Elixir for energy use herb viola fragrant with flowers, poplar buds, leafs ashberry, and fragaria vesca, leaf of currant as one to 2 to2 to3 , add one l. of the hot water in 3 tbl.sp. mixed mass, infuse night in thermos night, on a morning when you are waking up sprinkle this infusion around you and doing it within all day. That smell tone you, rises work capacity, activating energy stocks.

Test.

If you answered yes on ten question or more, thus you are close to the depression condition , thus psychologist need to help you.

1. I want to cry more, than  a year ago.

2.Am feeling sad a most often.

3. Am often feeling hopelessness and helplessness.

4.Am nothing interesting, as in work and hobby.

5.Am not interesting in my hobby, that I loved recently.

6. My life is boring and  monotonous.

7. Am needing always to sleep, and on the nighttime am having insomnia.

8. Eating, but without an appetite.

9. Irritating often.

10. And true feeling anxiety.

11.My companion is apathy.

12. Morning for me is the worst time.

13. Am not interesting in events, life, peoples.

14.My reflection in the mirror is sad.

15. My self-esteem is low.

16. Am always thinking about a last.

17. my health is worsening.

18.Its seems, that my colleagues shun me.

  from Valga s health news,gardening,and cooking ,and beauty . https://ift.tt/sr7lKgC via https://ift.tt/4k2e8CH

[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.

[hyperfixationtimego]

togami with a stutter & mondo with a lisp solidarity, no I do not take criticism (also maybe a lil hard of hearing Hina?? as a treat?? her and Sakura teach the classes sign language)

Celeste somehow thinks that makes her richer than him?? because togami mentions his stutter once and she’s like “wild, you can’t pay to make it go away???” even though she’s had chronic pain her whole life. everyone is like “...that’s not how it works”

I don’t have a lot for mondo but he does have some toxic masculinity surrounding it, like he thinks it makes him less manly? Kyoto ends up accidentally commenting on the masculinity aspect around Hina and Chihiro (she just Forgets other people don’t know that) and they immediately are the Remind Mondo He’s Very Manly club - queer eye anon

oh god absolutely!!!

Honestly the thought of Mondo and Byakuya being friends is very cool & I think it helps keep togami in line. Like he sometimes says nasty shit as a means of compensating for his own insecurity, but Mondo shuts that shit down fast. Like yes pal we’re friends and I’m here for you no matter what but also if you make fun of our classmates again I WILL punch you in the stomach without hesitation <3

And togami’s just *grumble grumble fine*

Ough I think Mondo’s lisp becomes more prominent when he’s emotional, so I’m just imagining him yelling/talking quickly (for whatever reason, be it angry, excited, etc.) and Taka just listening to it and fixating on it because hhrgbrbrvb boyfrien prebty voice ❤️❤️❤️

HoH HINA BELOVED!!!! She and Sakura casually slipping into sign language while the rest of their classmates are trying to decipher what the hell they’re talking about hsbemwbdmssb

Hina also gets very excited about things and sometimes begins talking with her hands while also speaking verbally just because adhd brain says move hands move hands move hands!!! it’s mostly subconscious but sometimes she’ll forget how to say something in sign language and have to pause her entire rant because wait

Also one of my favorite headcanons is actually Sayaka with unilateral hearing loss!!! I always tend to imagine it being on her left side, and she has a hearing aid that helps her with sound localization and discerning speech while there’s background noise present, etc. etc. etc.!!!

She doesn’t wear it for performances because of interference, obviously, but it helps her with everyday interaction!!!

Also she absolutely takes it out/turns it off if Leon and Kazuichi are fighting over something stupid. Like yeah now all the loud noises are garbled and jumbled together but at least she doesn’t have to listen to those fuckers argue over who has the better taste in clothes (spoiler alert it’s neither)

she just daydreams until they both shut up HSKSBDNEM

GDNWMEJD GOD CELESTE BELOVED,,,,SO MEAN,,,,,,

Togami: so yeah back when I was in speech therapy-

Celeste, who meets with Mikan frequently in order to manage her chronic pain symptoms: yOu WeRe In SpEeCh ThErApY??????

also

Celeste 🤝 Korekiyo

Chronic pain buddies (they fucking hate it here)

And,,,,, god absolutely.

Mondo is one of the most gender positive people at Hope’s peak ngl. Like he’s supportive and does his best to make sure everybody’s comfortable, and will beat up transphobes without a second thought. He forgets pronouns every once in a while because his memory is lowkey kinda dogshit and he’s a bit envious of his peers who experience low amounts of dysphoria (or no dysphoria at all) but he is genuinely one of the safest, least judgemental people to be around, so OF COURSE as soon as Chihiro and Hina hear that shit they’re like BLASPHEMY and set out on Operation Mondo Is a Manly Motherfucker and BETTER REALIZE IT RIGHT TF NOW-

[graffitibible]

zero my beloved, i would LOVE director’s commentary on a work of your chosing

juno my beloved thank you for indulging me

i'm going to choose a very early passage from the first chapter of starry-eyed, just cause there was a lot there that i had to rework before i was happy with it and there are some things that i think i made TOO subtle lol

CUT BECAUSE IT GOT LONG. i'm rambling about doublestar (oc) and her relationship to a very young jet star, since she essentially raised him in my canon!

You don't get to know your mother but you do get to know Doublestar, and she says that she knew your mother enough to know it was her job to take care of you. The ochre trunk of her arm rattles with the circles of beads, wood-carved things that she kisses, sometimes, or whispers things to, too quiet for you to hear.

The day you ask her what they're for is the day that she takes your hand in hers and slowly slides one of her strands of beads over her thick wrist and her knuckles that have become so worn that the calluses have become scar tissue, and onto yours.

It's too big. It hangs from the skinny stem of your arm. Up close, you can see the little figures carved into them - letters made up of squares and lines that you know because Doublestar knows. Black cat, says one, and thirteen says another.

"They're my bad luck beads," says Doublestar. Her smile is strained, but you can feel her eyes on you as you roll the worn, carved beads between your fingertips, carefully inspecting each one. The words have a slight lisp from the dulled-down nubs of her teeth, which she once told you were the result of the pills and chemicals from the City and how they caused her to grind them into grit. "You keep all the bad luck on your wrist, it'll never find you. You always know exactly where it is."

She looks out into the horizon, at the spiky silhouettes of cacti against the fiery pink cast of the setting sun. The pollution-rich atmosphere always ignites the clouds like the ends of flare guns, brilliant and poison-bright.

"People used to say they came from the Witch."

You know the Witch. She's told you about Her, though you've never seen Her for yourself. She's a specter of death, and Doublestar and her crew belong to the mechanical sprawl of Destroya. You're satellite chasers, watching the shooting stars from the dark velvet of the night sky and tracking them until they hit the sand, lighting up the horizon with a blitz of white-hot incandescence. It's a hard job to get there before the exterminators do, but the parts and scrap that used to belong to the service droids built into the pieces can fetch a high price on the right market. That, and it keeps BLi from tracking anyone down using the signals that shoot out into the desert sky.

Doublestar always makes you leave something of your findings to Destroya - buried under the sand, and marked with its name so that the pieces can find their way back. It's a cruel and low sort of person, she says, that doesn't thank their patron for its sacrifice. The Witch guides the dead, but Destroya is a deity for the living.

So she doesn't talk about the Witch very often.

She taps the ridges of the beads hanging loose around your wrist.

"Those ones were your mom's."

She talks about your mother even less.

You look up at her with a new tightness in your lungs that you can't identify.

Doublestar's smile becomes a right-angled thing, a more familiar beast, as she stands and puts a hand to your head as she leaves. The contact is a five-point star of warmth, and it's too brief before it's gone.

It's the only time she ever implies the extent to which she knew your mother.

when i was building jet's backstory i knew several things going in: that he'd have multiple crews that he'd lost was one of the most important things, since jet's wardrobe is very heavy on the death imagery and so i felt it would be truest to the character to ensure he had a close relationship with death. the rest kind of fell into accordance as it came along and i decided to more or less flesh out all the side characters by reverse engineering them from some aspect of jet star that needed to be brought into prominence.

doublestar's character was essential for laying the groundwork in regards to how jet got to be the way he was. she was genuinely well-intentioned and did her best with him and the others in the crew, but she really wasn't cut out to be the parental figure she kinda should've been. i've talked a bit about this before with regards to what she was meant to represent - she was instrumental in developing jet's relationship with his own assertiveness and lack thereof. she meant the best, but it was her way of praising certain things like jet's keen eye or his steady hands that led him to heavily associate his own value to a crew with what he could physically do to support them, and consequently heavily devalue himself, or at least prioritize himself much lower than others.

i was a little worried people might assume doublestar was secretly jet's mother or something, which is not what i meant to imply. her backstory never gets disclosed but the main thing i wanted to come through here was that she really really hated the analog wars, which is why she was so determined to stay out of them and to keep her crew out of them. combine that with a level of professed closeness to jet's unnamed mother, and the takeaway that i wanted people to walk away with was that jet's mother fought in the analog wars and died, and doublestar had to pick up the pieces left behind. she suggests to jet that she was very close with his mother but doesn't say how or why. then you take her name into account - a "double star" can be another name for a binary star, which in many cases consists of a pair of stars that essentially orbit each other.

i didn't mean for the name to be a deliberate thing that synced up with jet star's own eventual name, but once i landed on it, it was too perfect to pass up. i think doublestar's original name was something like "superflare" or something, definitely astronomy-based (because everyone in jet's first crew had that theme going on, which is why he chose the suffix of "star" for himself later) but the word was too unwieldy (it's important to me that killjoy names sound good to say aloud first and foremost, since they're seldom written down and mostly shouted or spoken on airwaves, and "doublestar" just has way more of a compact punch).

so doublestar indicates that she knew jet's mom well enough to have a set of her bad luck beads and to have agreed to look after her kid, hates the analog wars, and titled herself after a star system that exists solely as a pair, and i'd hoped that this would be enough to imply what i meant for it to imply - the implication being, of course, that she was in love with jet star's mother. i'm not sure how many people caught that though.

doublestar is not an innately nurturing character, but she has her reasons for doing the things she does. she would not have taken care of this kid if there wasn't a good reason for it, and that reason is that she felt she owed it to someone she loved and then lost. she's not biologically related to jet in any way and it's never really addressed if her love for his mother was requited or not, but ultimately that doesn't matter. she loved this person enough to decide that she would raise this kid as best as she could and ensure he would not die the same way his mother did. which kind of makes his eventual fate that much more fucked up.

[sxint]

BASIC INFORMATION.

Full name: Saint Matthieu Warden (insp). Nickname: Sainty, Satan Birthdate: 30th of May 1991 Age: 29 Zodiac: Gemini Sun | Gemini Moon | Gemini Rising  Gender: Cis male Pronouns: He/him Romantic orientation: Biromantic Sexual orientation: Bisexual Nationality: British/French Ethnicity: English/French Ranking: Virtue Affiliation: War

BACKGROUND.

Birthplace: Monte Carlo, Monaco Hometown: Worlingham, Suffolk/ London, UK Social Class: Upper Educational achievements: 1st class honours degree in Politics and Economics from Oxford University Father: Warlock Warden Mother: Gabrielle Warden Sibling(s): Remus Warden, Juno Warden

Pets:  Indiana (8 month old doberman) Previous relationships: A handful of fast burning relationships, a year and a half with Kitty Mallick Arrests: 8 official arrests (theft, vandalism, breaking and entering, possession of drugs, affray)   Prison time: Bailed out within hours of each arrest. Apart for the 6th time where Warlock made him stay in a cell over night to think about his actions, it didn’t help.

OCCUPATION & INCOME.

Current occupation: Head of global distribution at Bellum Nova/ Virtue of War Dream occupation: Horseman of War Past job(s): None Spending habits: Sporadic, cautious for the most part but can be easily tempted into spending. Especially when it comes to food In debt?: No

SKILLS & ABILITIES.

Physical strength: above average Speed: average Intelligence: above average Accuracy: average Agility: average Stamina: average Teamwork: He’s gotten better with it over time, although he prefers to work alone should it be an option. He finds it hard to trust others even with simple tasks and has a superiority complex where he thinks he will do said task better himself Talents: Persuasiveness, problem solving, warmongering, impersonations (particularly good at his Remus impersonation that sounds practically identical)  Shortcomings: Emotionally unavailable, competitive, vengeful, relatively fearless and has no impulse control   Languages spoken: French, English and Spanish Drive?: Yes Jump-start a car?: Yes Change a flat tyre?: Yes Ride a bicycle?: Yes   Swim?: Yes Play an instrument?: No Play chess?: No Braid hair?: Yes   Tie a tie?: Yes   Pick a lock?: Yes   Cook?: No

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE AND CHARACTERISTICS.

Faceclaim: Max Irons my beloved Eye colour: Green Hair colour: Dark blonde/light brunette Hair type: Slightly curly texture but kept short enough that it appears straight   Glasses/contacts?: Wears glasses to read and also has deuteranomaly colourblindness (has difficulty differentiating red and green) inherited from Warlock. Dominant hand: Right Height: 6″3 Weight: 86kg or 13.6 stone Build: Tall, muscular but carries slight weight around his middle because he loves carbs and knows how to have a good time Exercise habits: Regular jogging in the morning with Indi, gym throughout the week for weight training Skin tone: Type II Tattoos: Stick and poke tattoo of devil horns on the back of his calf given to him by Mitzi Zhang. The word ‘victorieux’ on his ribs in gothic script (insp). Doberman portrait (insp). Piercings: None Marks/scars: Lightly freckled, small birthmark at the back of his bicep on his left arm, dagger scar near his abdomen Clothing style: Monochromatic and sleek but likes wearing knitted jumpers and slogan tee shirts when he’s being more casual. Also lives in grey sweatpants when he’s at home. (Insp, insp, insp, insp). Jewellery: A 1950s manual wind Rolex with leather straps and a 18k yellow gold watch face. Given to him as a child and it belonged to his grandfather (insp). Allergies: Pollen Diet: Carb heavy, lives off bread and cheese, also has a real sweet tooth due to not being allowed to eat a lot of sugar as a kid.

PSYCHOLOGY.

MBTI type: INTJ, the architect (Introverted, Intuitive, Thinking, and Judging) Enneagram type: The Challenger (Resilient, protective, vengeful, insensitive) Moral Alignment: Chaotic evil Temperament: Choleric Element: Air Emotional stability: Changeable and unmanaged. Saint would rather shut down than address his feelings, he gets embarrassed and shy about having them and see’s them as something that gets in the way. Introvert or Extrovert?: Introvert Phobias: Atychiphobia - Fear of failure Drug use: Recreational, favours cocaine and MDMA. Not so much since Remus’s issues with addiction   Alcohol use: Drinks a glass of red wine before bed every night Prone to violence?: Yes Prone to crying?: No Believe in love at first sight?: He used to, but not anymore

MANNERISMS.

Accent: Southern British, occasionally has an air of French when relaxed or tired. Also a slight lisp and deep and softly spoken. (insp). Hobbies: Shooting guns, walking/training his dog, depressively eating bread on the kitchen floor whilst listening to radiohead Habits: Smoking cigarettes, drinking wine Nervous ticks: Jaw clenching, fidgeting with his hands, smoking Drives/motivations: To exceed others expectations of himself Fears: Abandonment Sense of humour?: Dark and dad jokes Do they curse often?: Oui

FAVOURITES.

Animal: Dogs Beverage: Cabernet sauvignon Book: Fight Club by Chuck Palahniuk Colour: Blue, being red-green colour blind it’s one of the more vibrant colours that he can see Food: Gratin dauphinois served with crusty bread. Marzipan filled croissants or cherry bakewell for dessert (he loves almonds) Flower: Roses Gem: Sapphire Mode of transportation: Aston Martin Vantage   Scent: Black Opium (kitty’s perfume)  Sport: Rugby   Weather: Thunderstorms Vacation destination: South France  

ATTITUDES.

Greatest dream: Becoming Horseman of War Greatest fear: Being eradicated and forgotten at his siblings’ hands   Most at ease when: Alone at home where he can be himself without the pressure of performing for other’s   Least as ease when: In groups with new people that he doesn’t know Biggest achievement: Being Gabrielle’s favourite child   Biggest regret: Falling in love and getting caught