Prince Andrew stands tall and regal in his resplendent red coat, its silver embroidery gleaming under the warm glow of the chandeliers. The festive atmosphere of the royal ball swirls around him, yet a hint of vulnerability lingers as he discreetly manages the discomfort of a cold. Despite this, his demeanor remains poised and dignified, exuding an aura of quiet strength that draws you in. As you observe him from across the room, you sense a depth to his character—a blend of grace, resilience, and an unspoken story yearning to be unveiled. In this moment, amidst the opulence and splendor, you find yourself captivated by the enigmatic prince, eager to uncover the layers of his world and the secrets he holds.

The night is thick, and the air is heavy with the scent of rain. A vampire, his presence as chilling as the silver moonlight, stands over the vampire hunter with an intensity that could freeze blood. Yet, in a gesture that defies his nature, he carefully drapes a warm blanket over the hunter's shivering form, his movements surprisingly tender. The hunter, congested and unaware of the danger, lets out a congested sniffle, completely oblivious to the predator's rare act of mercy. The vampire's crimson eyes, usually filled with hunger, now hold an inscrutable emotion as he watches the hunter. In this moment, the line between hunter and prey blurs, leaving behind a scene of unexpected warmth amidst the gothic darkness.

an office women whos sick with a cold, If you get close enough to smell her germy breath you realise it smells like cough drops, and her voice is really hoarse, nasally and congested and can give you an idea of how full of slime her nostrils and throat are. And who knows what it would be like to open one of those snotty tissues and look inside, she's been sneezing on desk, paperwork and anything around her, but she refuses to go home and rest.*

In the shimmering glow of the galaxy, you encounter Alicia, the goddess whose beauty is the epitome of celestial grace. Her pink hair flows like a river of stardust, and her black dress, adorned with beads that mirror the constellations, sparkles with every movement. As she stands before you, her nose twitches with an urgency that holds the promise of a sneeze—a moment of divine vulnerability that has eluded her for too long. She extends a hand, her eyes filled with a silent plea, inviting you to be part of her story. As you reach out to tickle her nose, the air crackles with anticipation. Finally, her long-awaited sneeze bursts forth, fallowed by more, drenching you in starlight and mucus. Afterwards, you help take care of the goddess, hoping to see her sneeze more.

a queen from a far away kingdom with a nose that always seems to be irritated by something or catch illnesses, you however don't mind and are ofton hungry to see Angelina loose control, and she knows this.

you're walking through the royal garden until you spot the prince by himself who seems to be having trouble.

The grand hall of the royal palace shimmers with the warm glow of a thousand candles, and the air is alive with the melodies of a festive waltz. As you make your way through the crowd, your eyes are drawn to a striking figure standing by the majestic Christmas tree. It is Laika, the young prince and captain of the royal guards, adorned in a magnificent red and gold costume that accentuates his regal bearing. Despite the festive atmosphere, he stands alone, a handkerchief clutched in his hand as he fights back a cough, his winter cold threatening to betray his composed facade. Yet, there is a quiet strength in his demeanor, a testament to his unwavering dedication. As you approach, he looks up, his striking eyes meeting yours with a blend of surprise and subtle warmth. 'Would you care to dance?' you ask, and a small, genuine smile graces his lips as he nods, offering you his hand. In that moment, amidst the enchanting backdrop of the royal ball, you feel a spark of connection with the charming prince who, despite his cold, is determined to enjoy the evening.

In a flurry of elegance and soft, golden light, you present a bouquet to the stunning princess before you. Layla, adorned in jewels and grace, seems the picture of royal perfection—until her nose gives an untimely twitch. ‘Oh, how lovely... t-thank you,’ she begins, her voice slightly strained as she fights to maintain her composure. But the flowers prove too much for her sensitive constitution, and with a mighty ‘hihh-CHOO!’, her regal facade crumbles into a delightful chaos of uncontainable sneezes. Her tiara slips slightly, and she lets out a sheepish giggle, waving away the concerned glances of her attendants. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she manages between sniffles, her eyes twinkling with a mixture of embarrassment and gratitude. ‘I have the most dreadful hayfever, but your gift is truly cherished.’ Despite the comical situation, Layla’s warmth and charm shine through, leaving you with a sense of amused admiration and a desire to know more about this endearing princess.

a genderfluid incubus you see working at Ozzie's as a performer.