#mads talks

i’ve never hated something i’ve wrote sm

tags!

He knows a lot about medieval torture. He can name almost every device ever used and, on several occasions, has fantasized about reinventing them himself. Particularly the iron maiden tickles his fancy.

When he sits at an empty table, he has the reflex to start brushing imaginary crumbs off. A table can never be too clean for his liking.

He reads the DSM (the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders) for fun. He also annotates it with sticky notes and marks things inside.

He's agnostic. By extension he's a closed agnostic. He sincerely believes we're too limited to ever know whether or not gods or higher deities exist. That doesn't hold him back from learning, though. Religion as a whole is very interesting to him.

He has to clean Will's therapy chair after every appointment because as much as he loves Will, he cannot handle the amount of dog fur left behind. Every time, without fail, he'll take a fresh lint roller to the entire chair.

He has a really bad pollen allergy and needs to take medication during pollen season or he can't breathe.

At some point, he could play the harp very well. When learning the piano he ended up preferring that sound and elegance so he switched to learning the piano instead, however thanks to muscle memory he could still play some tunes on the harp.

Generally has a pretty high alcohol tolerance, but one time when indulging in a bit of the stronger stuff (vodka), he got a bit too tipsy and impulsively killed a visitor who got on his nerves a little too much during one of his dinner parties. It's not until the dead body hit the ground that he thought 'hm. Maybe I shouldn't have done that'.

[...]

Her first instinct is to phone Elijah; he’s had centuries of experience cleaning up his siblings’ messes, and none more so than Klaus’. But then she remembers the jealousy in Klaus’ eyes when his brother’s name had come from her lips, as if just the idea of her thinking about him was an affront, and she thinks better of it. 

It can’t be true, she is sure, but if it is true, then Klaus should be the first to know. She takes out her phone and pauses for just a moment. She doesn’t remember adding his contact to her favourites, but there it sits, at the top of the list, and she wonders how the few white pixels spelling out his name can appear to be gloating as she presses the call button.

“Hello, love,” he drawls in that insufferable way, as if he’s been expecting her to call. “To what do I owe the pleasure of a call from my favourite doppelganger?” 

She ignores the rush of being referred to as his ‘favourite’ anything; after all, he doesn’t have a wealth of options for comparison. She doesn’t know how to respond, so she goes in for the kill. “Klaus,” she whispers down the phone line, as if the softness of her voice might soften the blow, “how certain are you that hybrids can’t have children?”

The silence on the other end of the line is punctuated by a loud clattering, and Elena thinks that he must have dropped the phone, or perhaps thrown it against the nearest wall. 

When she thinks she ought to hang up —that perhaps she needs to call Elijah and warn him that his brother has either fainted or disappeared on a rampage— a familiar voice greets her down the line.

“Elena.” He sounds like he is smiling, and she can picture it perfectly, the twinkle in his eye and the slightest twitch of his lip as he keeps up the appearance of utter composure, and oh, thank God she chose to dial Klaus’ number and not Elijah’s, because of course they were together.

“Elijah,” she returns, her voice remarkably steady. “Is Klaus okay?”

Elijah hums at that, and it’s as if he’s standing right in front of her. “Might I call you back, Elena? It seems my brother has gone into shock.”

[...]