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hivemuthur · 2 months ago

Text

The Game of Teaching Body - Ch. 9.

viktorxfemale!reader explict! (we got there)

AU university, AU modern era, slow burn, frenemies to lovers, teasing, pinning, banter, eventual romance and therefore smut, Viktor is simultaneously a menace and needs a hug, TA Viktor

Ch.1. | Ch.2. | Ch.3. | Ch.4. | Ch.5. | Ch.6. | Ch.7. | Ch.8. | Ch.10. | Ch.11. | Ch.12.

word count: 7,2K!

tag: #the game of teaching body

summary: spoiler: In the timeline of my writing, this is the first sex scene I've ever written on my own. So, what can I say? This is an imperfect story about imperfect people, but I can assure you it has an eventual happy ending.

Cross-posted on AO3 + POV3rd Person Version

—

The absolute chaos of Christmas looming spread across the campus like an infectious frenzy. The corridors were decked with the most absurd ornaments the students could scavenge—Santa Claus figurines strung up and dangling upside down from the ceiling of the canteen, Christmas trees adorned with laboratory glassware and angel hair, and a mockery of carols blaring on repeat from the school radio. It was a bizarre fusion of science and art, a perfect encapsulation of the university’s peculiar spirit.

Every student seemed to be racing against time, scrambling to finish their projects and papers before the holidays, determined to return prepared for the looming finals. The labs and library remained open around the clock for anyone desperate enough to study or practise at odd hours.

You and Sue spent every spare moment in the lab classroom, tinkering with projects that needed to be submitted by the semester’s end. Meanwhile, Jayce and Viktor made themselves available to assist and guide anyone who might need their expertise, and the group crossed paths periodically, exchanging polite gestures and jokes to keep up the holiday spirit. Viktor had made a few attempts to talk to you after his mortifying text message, but you did your best to ignore him.

Which made your current situation, to say the least, far from ideal. Sue was rushing you to jot down all the points before she had to dash off and tend to a project for another class. The two of you huffed at each other, frustration starting to take its toll, until you sighed and said, “Sue, how about I finish this, and you go do your thing? I really don’t mind.” You offered your friend a reassuring smile.

Sue hesitated, narrowing her eyes. “Are you sick of me or something?”

“I’m never sick of you,” you said, placing your hand on Sue’s knee and giving it an affectionate squeeze. “I just think this needs a bit more work, and I can see you’re in a hurry. Honestly, I really don’t mind if you don’t.”

“Okay, I admit my mind is elsewhere. Fine,” Sue sighed in mock defeat. “I’ll do something for you in return, I promise.” She started packing up her things and leaned over to place a hand on your shoulder.

“Just get me a cookie or something,” you replied with a tired smile, gently brushing Sue’s hand away. You figured you’d probably finish the work faster on your own, and you were running out of time anyway. The lab was already emptying, darkness had fallen outside, your eyes burned from staring at the chemicals for so long, and you’d had more than enough for one day.

After Sue left, you resumed your work, determined to finish everything in one evening. The promise of rest and the satisfaction of completion fuelled you. You were so focused on jotting down your thoughts that you didn’t notice when Viktor sat beside you and leaned over your notes.

“Do you... need help?” His voice was unsure, as if he were asking about something else as well.

You hesitated. Help would certainly be welcome, but Viktor’s presence would also make it harder for you to focus. The final equation seemed to balance out the odds. You looked at him—he looked tired yet sharp. He wore the same green jumper he’d had on that night, with a crisp white shirt collar peeking out from underneath it. His scent was fresh and comforting, and his eyes, full of quiet anticipation, were fixed on you as you calculated your decision. You sighed. Yes, you needed help.

“Alright. Shoot me.”

For a split second, Viktor’s face lit up before he leaned in closer. “You’re pretty far along,” he said, his expression thoughtful, a smile playing at the corner of his lips. “You can dictate, and I’ll translate it into Heimerdinger’s language?”

“That would honestly be perfect,” you admitted, letting out a huff of relief as you turned your attention back to the chaotic scrawl of notes Sue had left behind. Terrible handwriting.

The two of you worked together in near silence, the hum of the lab equipment and the faint scratching of Viktor’s pen the only sounds between you. You found yourself occasionally distracted by the way Viktor’s long fingers moved as he pointed to your results, his low voice guiding you through adjustments. You tried to stay focused, but every now and then, you’d catch yourself glancing at him, his concentration a tether pulling your attention away from your notes.

Viktor, for his part, couldn’t help but steal glances at you. The faint scent of your perfume mixed with the sterile air of the lab, and it made something in his chest feel warm, almost achingly so. He bit his lip nervously whenever he realised he’d been staring too long, forcing his attention back to writing.

It took the two of you longer than either of you had expected, but when you finally wrapped up, the lab was completely empty. You stretched your arms over your head, letting out a soft groan of relief.

“That’s it, then,” you said, your voice tired but satisfied. “Thank you, Viktor. Honestly, I’d still be drowning in that mess if you hadn’t—”

“It’s nothing,” he cut you off gently, placing the pen down and leaning back slightly. He watched as you began gathering your things, clearly ready to leave. But before you could stand, he cleared his throat, his voice softer now. “Hey.”

You paused, looking at him.

“Did you…” He hesitated, the words suddenly harder to push out. He fidgeted with the edge of his notebook. “Did you get my text message?”

Of course, you did. You’d seen his stupid, childish message. The ‘I like you,’ had screamed at you from your phone screen for two weeks now, and you’d both loved it and hated it. Who writes ‘I like you’ like a five-year-old? And not only that, who needs to down an entire bottle of whisky to muster the courage to write ‘I like you’?

Your stomach twisted uncomfortably. You hadn’t expected this. You shifted awkwardly in your chair, avoiding his gaze. “I did,” you said finally, your voice measured, careful.

Viktor’s expression remained unreadable, but his hands tightened around the notebook in front of him. “And?”

You let out a breath, your lips pressing into a thin line. “And… if I’m to rely on you saying or doing something from the heart only when you get yourself blind drunk, that wouldn’t be the best choice for your health, Viktor,” your voice was quiet, your eyes fixed on the workbench in front of you. “And I don’t want to be bad for your health.” You offered him a faint smile and looked down again. “If it was from the heart, in the first place.”

His brow furrowed slightly, but he nodded, his gaze dropping to the table. “It was.” It was. And it shamed him deeply that, indeed, he’d needed liquid courage to admit it. Only now did it strike him how awful it must have made you feel. “But I have a… rabbit heart.”

“Am I so terrifying?” you felt mockery twisting itself inside you with anger. Why were you so angry, though? You also had a rabbit heart. You often caught yourself knowing exactly what Viktor was going to say because you used the same words in your history of backing out. Was this the universe having a go at you?

“Yes, you scare the living shit out of me,” he huffed out a shaky laugh, lowering his voice. It was probably the biggest truth he’d told you in all this time.

“Well, this can’t be good for your health either, then, no?” Deflect, deflect, deflect, hide yourself behind that joke. Very well done, you.

“I—” Viktor paused, his hands gripping the edge of the table. “Look, I lied. I’m not good with any setup—casual or not. I—” He stopped himself, his eyes flicking briefly to yours before looking away again. He was torn, visibly at war with his own feelings.

You didn’t want to hear him stumble over words again. “Viktor, I get it. It’s fine. We can still be friends?” You tried to search your mind for what you’d want to hear all those times when you told someone politely the relationship wasn’t working for you.

You thought this was it—an offer of friendship. Most people got hurt or annoyed with you, and it made you feel guilty. So, you tried to say something that wouldn’t make him feel guilty. As soon as you said it, you realised that what you actually wanted was for someone not to let you retreat—but it was too late for that.

Viktor took in a shaky breath, his gaze returning to yours, but he still looked uncertain. “I can’t do that,” he said quietly, his voice thick with something you couldn’t quite place. “I can’t be just your friend.” His hands clenched into fists on the table. “I... I’ve tried to be fine with it, but I’m not. I can’t pretend.”

“But I don’t know how to be anything else,” he added after a beat, his mind flicking back to all the times he’d snuck out of someone’s bedroom or when he found himself alone in the morning, in his own cold, sweaty bed. After some time, it became a habit, a quiet indulgence that carried no consequences, and it aligned very well with his main goal: to make his life more than it was meant to be. No distractions, only his goal. Some distractions, but not too many. Only friendships, and here as well, only the stimulating ones. To keep his brain fed, so his soul could starve.

“I have worked… so hard,” he brushed his hand through his hair. “To get where I am. I was meant to fail, and I haven’t failed once. I haven’t failed a single time, aside from some tiny, insignificant stumbles that eventually lead me to answers anyway. So many times I haven’t failed that I don’t think I know how to,” his voice was quiet, as if admitting something shameful. He said it as though any slip-up could cost him everything he’s worked for.

“I… understand,” you said slowly, piecing together the crumbs of information. Viktor didn’t come from a place of love, like you did. He didn’t come from a place of opportunity. He probably had to claw his way through pompous academics who didn’t take him seriously. You understood that part. But what was your part in turning it all to dust—that eluded you. So you didn’t understand, not entirely.

“Do you?” he looked at you longingly, expectantly, and it made your heart ache. What was it that you were supposed to give him now? A promise you would never hurt him? That you would never distract him or drag his mind away from what’s important?

“Viktor, this shouldn’t be so hard, I’m not some mythical creature,” you said, trying to inject a touch of humour into your voice, but it came out thin, brittle.

Viktor’s gaze softened, but the intensity in his eyes remained. He leaned forward slightly, his voice low and steady. “No, you’re not,” he murmured, as if trying to reconcile something inside himself. “But you’re not like anyone else either.”

Your chest tightened at the words, but you quickly pushed it aside, unwilling to let yourself feel vulnerable. You folded your arms across your chest, as if protecting yourself from something you couldn’t name. “I don’t want to be a puzzle for you to solve, Viktor. I don’t want to be some challenge you feel like you need to conquer. That’s not what I’m here for.”

He hesitated, his brow furrowing as he processed your words. He wanted to argue, to convince you that it wasn’t about conquest, that it was about something deeper, but he could tell it wasn’t the right time. Not yet. “I don’t… I don’t think of you like that,” he said, his voice almost too soft, as if afraid to break the fragile moment between you. “I think of you as someone I want to understand, someone who...” He trailed off, unsure of how to finish that sentence, the words feeling too heavy in the air.

You shifted in your seat, your eyes narrowing slightly as you considered his words. There was a vulnerability in his voice, a quiet sincerity that you weren’t used to hearing. You almost wanted to reach out, to ease the tension that hung between you, but you held yourself back.

There was a long, aching pause between you before Viktor cleared his throat and leaned back, trying to break the silence. “So,” he said, the words coming out in a lighter tone, “how many do-overs do you think we can have?”

You rolled your eyes at him, a small, rueful smile tugging at your lips. “I find myself hoping that each one is the last one,” you replied dryly, though your heart wasn’t fully in the jest. “Thank you for all the help.”

Viktor smiled, a faint, almost self-deprecating chuckle escaping him. “Oh, no worries. I’ll see you at the Christmas party?” he asked, his voice a little uncertain, as if he wasn’t sure how you’d respond.

You nodded, your expression softening just slightly. “Yeah, I’ll be there,” you said, your tone neutral, but not dismissive. “Take care, Viktor.”

With that, you parted ways, the lingering tension still hanging between you, neither fully satisfied with the conversation, but both with the understanding that you were somehow still connected—however uncertain that connection was.

You found an unbearable thought gnawing at you—that in this state, the only ‘do-over’ you could count on was friendship, and Viktor couldn’t afford that. Inevitably, it would end with nothing.

***

It wasn’t exactly a party, but the pub was completely packed with people—students, assistants, and random individuals who wandered around campus, their roles in it a complete mystery. Everything was bathed in the warm glow of Christmas decorations, making the space feel even more cramped.

You sat at a small round table with Sue, some familiar faces scattered around, including Jayce and Viktor, who had joined after their TA duties. Sue was mid-sentence when you leaned back in your chair, your eyes wandering. You weren’t in the mood for all the noise tonight. The words blurred around you as you half-listened, your fingers tapping rhythmically on the edge of your glass—a quiet distraction. Viktor was talking to Jayce, his sharp voice cutting through the noise every now and then. His dry wit was always on full display, the kind that kept people around him in that odd mix of awe and wariness.

“You okay?” Sue’s voice brought you back. You blinked, nodding slowly.

“Yeah, just... tired, I guess,” you said, forcing a polite smile as you took a sip of your drink.

The room was hazy with cigarette smoke, the heat becoming unbearable. The whole scene was so unbearably sweet and cozy that it made you flinch. Your eyes kept glancing over to Viktor, who would immediately look away as soon as your gazes met. You kept thinking about what another do-over could look like and felt yourself growing more and more frustrated with the space between you, even though you were sitting so close to each other. You could feel Sue's eyes on you but couldn’t quite explain why you felt this way.

Sue raised an eyebrow but didn’t press further. “Well, if you need to bail early, I totally get it.”

You hesitated, then gave a half shrug. “I think I’ll head out. Just... not feeling it, you know?”

“Yeah, I get it,” Sue replied, offering a quick nod. “See you later?”

“Yeah.” You stood, grabbing your coat from the back of your chair. As you made your way through the maze of tables, you could hear Viktor's voice in the background—just enough to make you pause. You could feel his gaze on you, but you ignored it, focusing instead on the exit.

Viktor watched as you stood and walked away, a wave of frustration rising within him, forming itself into a long sigh. He had tried, hadn’t he? He had said things—things he never said to anyone—but now you were leaving, retreating like always. His jaw tightened, and he felt his fingers curl into fists on the table. It wasn’t supposed to be like this, not after everything. He should’ve known better, but still, your departure stung.

He couldn’t place why, but it felt like you were slipping away just as he was beginning to reach out. You were both so fucking terrible at talking, at letting yourselves feel anything real. Why did it have to be so difficult?

The cold air hit you as soon as you stepped outside, and for a moment, it felt like a relief. The street was quiet, the only sound the crunch of snow beneath your boots. You slid your headphones on and started walking toward the dorms, matching your steps to the rhythm of the song.

You awaited rest and home and being far away from here with utter impatience. Just one more evening of this. Just one more evening of thinking and biting at your own lips, glancing at your phone, and then it would only be your parents, and Hale, and the quiet evenings at Sheffield, for a week.

Against reason, Viktor followed you, his footsteps soft but steady as he stepped out of the pub moments later. His eyes caught sight of your retreating figure, and a small, amused smile played at the corner of his lips. He’d almost not been surprised—almost expected it.

He called out your name, his voice lost to the wind and muffled by the sounds of the night. But you didn’t hear him. Quickening his pace, his breath misted in the cold air. He called again, louder this time, but still, you didn’t turn.

A small part of him considered letting you go, letting you stew in your thoughts, just leaving it for after the break. But the rest of him felt pulled, like a dog on a leash in front of a vet’s door.

You were nearing the entrance to the dorms when you finally paused, taking a deep breath, and tugging your headphones off with a slight wince. The moment you heard your name, you froze, your heart skipping in your chest.

“Hey you!” Viktor’s voice was closer now, cutting through the night. When you turned, you saw him standing at the edge of the walkway, just outside the dorm. His breath came in visible puffs, his chest heaving as if he’d run after you.

“You walk... so fucking fast,” he said, still catching his breath. “I never figured you for the type to run off so bluntly. But I suppose that’s part of the fun, isn’t it?” Yes, just laugh it out. Viktor took a few steps forward, leaning heavily on his cane.

“Are you fucking drunk again?” you blinked, your mind racing. You had to admit to yourself that Viktor drunkenly following you from the bar was a coin toss you wouldn’t have bet on. Especially after your last talk. Funny.

“Are you not?” he countered, his words smoother than you expected.

“No. Go back to your pub, Viktor.” Your voice was flat now, each word carefully measured. You exhaled sharply, your shoulders sinking as if the weight of the evening had finally caught up with you. You were so tired of this.

Viktor tilted his head, his smile barely visible in the shadows as he took a step closer. “Eh, make me,” he said softly, though it wasn’t a challenge—not really.

Another step.

“I am so not in the mood for you now,” you muttered, your hands dropping limply by your sides as you turned away, dragging yourself down the corridor toward the elevators. Your voice lacked its usual bite, tinged instead with exhaustion.

“Alright, alright, I’m not drunk, just had one pint. Oh, come on,” Viktor mock-pleaded, his cane tapping lightly against the floor as he quickened his pace to catch up with you. “You won’t see me the entire holiday break.”

“And I will savour every single day of this glorious relief from your constant nagging, poking, your sweet side and your dick side, and having fun at my expense,” you snapped, jabbing the elevator button with increasing impatience, your words punctuated by each press.

You were expecting another joke, but Viktor’s hands gripped your waist firmly, twisting you around. Your breath caught as he pulled you flush against him, the heat of his body sharp against the cold you’d carried in from outside.

“Shut up,” he breathed, his voice raw and ragged as his lips found yours. The kiss was unsteady, heated, and messy, tasting faintly of sweet beer and a frustration that mirrored your own. He panted into your mouth, his lips parting just enough to nip at yours.

“Just… shut up, for once,” he murmured, crowding you against the elevator door. It slid open behind you with a soft chime, and you stumbled inside, Viktor’s cane clattering to the floor as he steadied you against the wall. He pulled your turtleneck down to lick your neck greedily over the bite mark he had left there. His hands quickly found their way under your sweater, and he gasped, bemused by your lack of underwear. “No bra?” Again. A low chuckle rumbled against your skin. “Is that your idea of a Christmas present?”

“Fuck off,” you scoffed, your voice still sharp with lingering anger. Your hands pressed against his chest in an attempt to push him away, but the lack of real force and your hands still gripping his coat tightly betrayed you.

“Are you sure?” Viktor smirked, his grip firm as he tilted your chin up, pressing a lingering, deceptively sweet kiss to your lips. “This is your floor,” he said, his voice agonizingly calm as he stepped back, gesturing toward the elevator doors sliding open.

“Or…” His tone shifted, almost teasing, as he pressed the button to close the doors and send them up to his floor instead. “You could come with me. For real, this time.”

You pulled him wordlessly toward you, offering no resistance—nothing more, nothing less. Words had failed you, but your actions were clear. It was enough. Viktor wanted to say, That’s what I thought, the words teasing the edge of his tongue, but he held them back. Instead, he captured your lips again, kissing frantically. He explored your mouth, swallowing the small sounds you made, the elevator a blur as it carried you upward.

By the time you reached his room, Viktor managed to open the door without breaking the kiss, his cane hanging hooked over his arm. You stumbled inside together, the heat between you growing unbearable, and he pressed you firmly against the door, his hands bracing your hips as his lips moved over yours with unrelenting zeal. You pulled him closer, your breath catching as you managed to rasp, “Bed?”

Viktor chuckled softly against your lips; his tone laced with teasing. “Impatient, are we?” But there was no mistaking the heat in his gaze, the way his hands tightened on your hips as he broke the kiss just long enough to guide you further into the room.

“Fuck you,” you muttered, your voice raw as your fingers curled into his shirt, tugging him with you.

“Yes. Please, fuck me,” Viktor murmured, sweeping you into another fervent kiss as you stumbled toward the bed. “I’m so tired of you not fucking me.”

You scoffed into his mouth. And who is to blame for that? You sunk into the mattress, pulling Viktor with you by his belt, the cane poking your leg.

“Why are you wearing so many clothes?” he whined, his voice laced with frustration as his clumsy hands fumbled with your coat. His hasty movements betrayed him, and in the rush, his knee accidentally pressed against your arm.

“Ow!” you winced, your sharp tone softening as you glanced at his face. The irritation melted away when you saw the unabashed eagerness in his expression, the way his brow furrowed in determination despite his lack of grace. “Is this going to be painful?” you asked, your lips quirking in a faint, teasing smile, though your voice still held a trace of genuine concern.

Viktor froze, blinking down at you like a scolded child. “Only if you want it to be,” he muttered, a sheepish grin tugging at the corner of his mouth as he leaned back to regroup. His fingers moved more carefully now, peeling the coat off from underneath you with exaggerated precision. “Better?”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, shaking your head. “You’re ridiculous.”

Viktor granted you a low chuckle, his lips quirking in that familiar, lopsided smirk. “Ridiculous, perhaps, but effective,” he murmured as he continued with his careful work, peeling away the layers of your clothing like unwrapping a particularly stubborn present.

His own clothes, however, didn’t receive the same treatment. He shed them with reckless abandon, tossing each piece into an ever-growing messy pile near the bed, his leg brace a crown on top of it. His cane clattered softly to the floor as he leaned back for balance, the faintest flush spreading across his cheeks.

Once you were both were bare, he ran his palms gently along your sides and pressed his face to your hip, your belly, your neck, inhaling your skin. “God, you are so infuriating,” he murmured, his voice muffled against your body.

He glued himself to you, his hands roaming wherever they could reach, as if this were the moment he’d been waiting to happen for the longest time. And it was, of course. The decision to toss everything aside and just jump in might have been reckless, but he had no capacity to decide otherwise.

“Infuriating?” you laughed, feigning offense. “Is that the way you treat all of your conquests? Make them follow you around by the nose for months, until your resolve finally breaks after one pint?”

“No, only you,” he replied smoothly, his lips brushing against your collarbone. He added with a sly smirk, “It’s my love language with you.”

“Love?” you repeated, voice laced with teasing incredulity, but the hesitation in your tone betrayed how the word caught you off guard.

“Shut up,” Viktor muttered, his hand gliding up your side as he kissed you, silencing your laughter before you could push further. “Attraction,” he murmured against your neck, his lips pressing a lingering kiss there. “Want,” he added, his teeth grazing your breast, earning a sharp gasp from your mouth. “Admiration,” he said, coming back up to meet your eyes and give you a slow, steady kiss. He took your fingers into his mouth and watched your eyes flutter shut, your lips parting.

His voice dipped lower, teasing, and dangerous. “Anyway, is that not what we have been doing?” His hands explored the meat of your ass with a firm grip, his touch both intoxicating and commanding as he pressed himself flush against your core. He shifted against you with a kind of intimacy that had your breath hitching.

“Have you not been loving me all this time?” His words, soft and taunting, carried a heat that matched the tension thrumming between you. His hand moved down between your thighs to scoop your wetness and lick it off his fingers, as he made sure you were watching. “Ah, it seems,” he whispered, his lips brushing your ear, “you’ve been loving me back all along.”

You trembled under him, your breath catching as your hands gripped his shoulders. A quiet plea escaped your lips, barely audible but filled with vulnerability. “Don’t be mean, Viktor.”

For a moment, he stilled, his expression softening as he pulled back to look at you. His golden eyes, usually so sharp and calculating, held a flicker of something warmer, deeper. “Mean?” he murmured, his thumb tracing the curve of your cheek. “No. Not with you.”

The teasing edge in his voice melted away as he leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to your lips, slow and deliberate, as though trying to convey what words couldn’t. He was so bad at talking if you thought he was being mean. His hands cradled your face, and his next words came as a low promise against your skin. “I could never be mean to you.”

You huffed softly, a half-laugh escaping you as memories of all the times he’d actually been mean flitted through your mind. “Liar,” you muttered against his lips, though there was no venom in your tone. Instead, you kissed him back longingly, your fingers threading into his hair as your thighs wrapped around his hips, pulling him closer.

Viktor exhaled a shaky breath, his control fraying under your touch. “Perhaps,” he admitted with a faint, self-deprecating smile, his forehead resting against yours for a moment. “But you give as good as you get, don’t you?” he said playfully, reaching over to pull a condom out of his bedside drawer and put it on swiftly. Then, he grabbed a spare pillow to prop his leg. His belly was tied into a knot, teetering on the edge between pain and pleasure, as he placed one hand between where your bodies were going to meet to align himself at the entrance.

He studied your face, as if to check if there was any resistance left. But you only looked at him with wide eyes, your hands fisting the bed sheet. He swept through his body in a final calculation of what could go wrong—he wasn’t drunk, that was a good start. His leg, eh, not perfect, but he should be able to pull this off. Did he want to love you or tease you? He had forgotten which one it was. A shuddery breath escaped him when your bodies finally connected—he entered you slowly, holding back to lay on top of you.

The first thrust was so deliberate, so slow, so overwhelming that you both moaned into each other's mouths. Your brows tied themselves together, your palms stiff in hesitation over his shoulders, as the feeling of relief surged through you. A relief of finally not being empty.

The only movement Viktor allowed himself was the roll of his hips as he sunk inside you, beat after beat. His arms caged you in, one of his hands gripping your shoulder, the other cradling the base of your skull, as he kept your faces close so he could study you, watch you. He stared at you obscenely, taking in your expressions, disbelief wrenching breath out of his lungs. You really wanted him. You were holding him in a vacuous trap, making it hard to pull out and push back in.

And this wasn’t new. People wanted him, he knew that. They wanted him for this—for a fun fuck—and when they continued to want him afterward, it felt like a fluke. So he shut it down. And it made him feel powerful. No, it made him feel weak. It made his weakness powerful. It gave him the power to disappear from it, from himself, to not be present.

The fact that he was present now, attentive, was rather new for him. Not entirely—he’d had a glimpse of what it could be that night when you were high together, but he hadn’t dared breach the boundary of clothing then. This, though, was entirely different. He watched you so carefully, studying every reaction to his touch. He pushed where you gasped and retreated where you winced. Your kisses were as hungry as his, and it made him feel so full. The fuck was more than fun. It made him feel powerful in a way that didn’t make him feel weak.

He tightened his grip, his forehead resting on yours as he buried himself deep inside, thrust after thrust. His mouth open against you, breathing in every gasp, every whimper you were willing to give him. His pace was even, unwavering, as he murmured against your lips, “You’ve been giving me so much grief.”

He locked eyes with you, a hint of vulnerability in his gaze as he added, “But it really feels like you’ve been loving me back. Haven’t you?” His voice was soft, as though waiting for you to answer not just with words, but with the quiet truth in your eyes.

You slid your fingers into his hair, pulling him in for another desperate kiss, and Viktor caught a faint, barely audible ‘yes,’ offered to drown deep in his throat, traveling straight to his heart, as if you were offering him a secret you hadn’t meant to give away. The sound stirred something deep within him, and as you arched against him, your breath catching, he deepened the kiss and quickened his pace. He buried his nose in the crook of your neck, murmuring quiet praises, each word filled with reverence as you moved together toward completion.

He slid one hand to the nape of your neck, another snaked itself between your bodies, his fingers parting you as he whispered softly, “Oh, my girl.” Your eyes fluttered shut, arms wrapping around his shoulders and you muffled your own moan against his mouth, lips and noses brushing against each other. He rubbed lazy circles on your clit, a smile blooming on his face when he felt your back arching beneath him, hips pressing upward to meet his, your cunt clenching around his cock in a tight, needy hug.

He felt your thighs squeezing his hips, your walls fluttering, pulling him deeper inside you, with you. You dug your nails into his shoulders, lips parted pressed against his, foreheads pressed together mingling droplets of sweat into one.

You felt a sudden urge to say, “Thank you,” distorted by a loud moan as you came on his cock, on his fingers, your body tensing up and bending to the sound of his name falling from her lips. It took a long time, and you thought it would never stop, your climax blinding, contorting your body around him with a force to bend and crush.

Viktor’s mind got invaded by a thought of how great it felt to make a girl such as yourself lose control over her own muscles. How it had made him grow taller and bigger, his heart swollen with your grace, his lips bruised from your teeth. Slowly, he worked you through each spasm, and when you were ready, he retreated his hand to wrap both arms around you and buried his face in your neck. His breathing jagged, teeth sinking into your shoulder to not say too much at the sudden tightness around his cock.

His rhythm began to stutter, movements growing urgent by the minute as he buried himself within you up to the hilt. His breath was uneven, his muscles flexing and twisting. He felt your core hugging his cock so tight, he couldn’t hold back his own panting, as if he were a teenager all over again. He moved his face to brush against yours, whispered your name again, voice trembling, and he came with one thick, everlasting pang, whimpering weakly into your mouth.

His body melted into yours with a long, contented sigh, his arms wrapped tightly around you, stomachs and chests pressed, rising and falling together. You stayed like that in silence for a few moments, not moving, just touching, just breathing, just being.

Finally, Viktor rolled you both to the side, his leg hooked over your hip, fingers threading through your hair, and gave you an almost solemn look.

“What is this face?” you asked softly, cupping his cheek and brushing your thumb across his lip.

He sucked on it slowly, not breaking eye contact. “I never thought you would be so…” His voice trailed off for a moment, and just as you braced yourself for another joke, he finished, “wonderful.”

You managed only to whisper a quiet “Viktor—,” your grip tightening around him as the weight of this little praise crushed you. As his eyes crushed you, his warmth crushed you, as you crushed yourself with everything you wanted to say but couldn’t.

Viktor pulled back just a few inches, his gaze searching yours. “Are you going away for Christmas tomorrow?” he asked, his voice soft, almost tentative. Normal.

You nodded slowly, your fingers still tangled in his hair as you answered, “Yeah.”

“Will you stay?” Please, stay. Please don’t have me wake up alone tomorrow. A weakness crept back in.

You nodded against his neck. A quiet breath escaped Viktor’s lips as he leaned in to kiss your forehead, pulling you back against him. He sighed softly, the sound almost like a weight lifting. He didn’t speak for a few moments, just holding you as if afraid you might disappear if he let go.

Finally, you broke the silence, your voice quieter now. “I have no idea how I’m going to explain my absence to Sue though.”

Viktor’s lips curled into a playful smirk, and he raised an eyebrow. “I’ll take care of it,” he said, his voice teasing. “I’ll just tell her you got really into the holiday spirit and had to spend the night with your favourite TA.”

You chuckled softly, the tension between you easing just a little. “I’m sure she’ll believe that,” you replied, though the words felt lighter now, softer.

Viktor’s expression shifted to one of mock seriousness as he pulled you a little closer. “But tomorrow, when the morning comes,” he said, his voice lowering slightly, “I’ll have to call it in. You caught me drunk, used me for your advantage,” he paused, his eyes glinting with mischief, “and I’ll make sure everyone knows it.”

You let out a small laugh, your face flushing slightly at the absurdity of the situation. “Selling me out already, I see how this will go,” you said, teasing him back. “I’m sure you won’t mind telling them how you practically begged me to stay the night and cuddle you.”

Viktor smiled, but his eyes softened. “I won’t,” he murmured, pressing his lips to your temple again, holding you in the quiet aftermath. The moment felt almost unreal—so intimate, so fragile—and yet, there you were. He wouldn’t dare break it by asking for more. And even though Viktor’s chest was still swollen with fear, his mind drifted to sleep in your arms.

Your own mind, however, was restless. As the high of your connection faded, you woke up early, your thoughts gnawing at you. Viktor was fast asleep, his expression so peaceful that you couldn’t believe he had a bad bone in his body. Yet, you had been stabbed so many times. It wasn’t real, was it? It couldn’t be over, just like that. What if he was right, and you weren’t meant to share the awkwardness of the morning? What if he tried to shrug it off once he woke up? Would you survive if he did?

No. You wouldn’t.

Cursing yourself, you slid out of bed, put your clothes back on, and gave Viktor, who was sleeping soundly, one last glance that tore through your soul. And left.

***

The morning light crept through the gaps in the blinds, painting pale stripes across the sheets. Viktor stirred, his body heavy and warm, though there was an odd hollowness in the bed. He reached out instinctively, the fog of sleep not yet cleared, his fingers brushing against nothing but the cold fabric of the mattress. His eyes blinked open.

The room was silent.

He sat up slowly, scanning the space, the sense of emptiness clawing at him as the realisation began to take shape. You were gone.

The sheets beside him were rumpled, but the space was cold, long abandoned. For a moment, he stared at the spot you’d occupied, trying to convince himself you might still be here. Perhaps you were in the bathroom, or in his tiny kitchen searching for tea—but no sound of movement met his ears.

A chill crept through his chest, spreading outwards, a tight knot forming in his stomach. You left.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed, his movements clumsy, hurried, his leg straining without the brace. There had to be something—a note, a message, anything that might explain. The bedside table was empty. The dresser? Nothing. Viktor opened a drawer, then another, rifling through with increasing desperation, though he knew even as he searched how ridiculous it was. You wouldn’t leave a note in a drawer.

His gaze snapped to his phone. He lunged for it, unlocking the screen with trembling fingers. Nothing. No missed calls. No texts.

He stood there in the middle of the room, staring at the empty screen. His chest tightened, his breaths coming faster, each one shallower than the last. Of course.

What had he been thinking? That after all his fumbling, after all his glaring flaws, you would stay? That someone like you, bright and untamed, would want someone like him—a man who could barely navigate his own feelings without tripping over them?

Right. His fingers clenched around the phone, the pressure digging into his palm. How stupid. How painfully, pathetically stupid. How weak.

He sank back onto the bed, his head in his hands. The weight of the silence pressed down on him. Every echo in the room seemed to mock him. The bed felt too big now, the walls closing in too fast. His mind replayed your smile, your laugh, the warmth in your eyes last night, and it made his chest ache. How could you think you’d earned something like this?

And yet, beneath the sinking despair, anger simmered. At himself. At you. At the cruel absurdity of it all. You’d kissed him, held him, and for a brief moment, he’d thought you were standing on equal ground. But the truth was stark now, laid bare in her absence: you’d left. Or maybe that was an equal ground, after all. Now, you were truly even.

A sharp knock at the door jolted him from his spiralling thoughts. He didn’t answer immediately, hoping whoever it was would go away, but the knock came again, louder this time.

“Viktor?” Jayce’s familiar voice called from the other side. “You ready? We’ve got to leave in half an hour, mate.”

Viktor swallowed hard; his throat dry. His hands slowly dropped from his face as he stared at the door. Jayce’s voice was too cheerful, too ordinary, too far removed from the storm brewing inside him. He wanted to shout at him, to tell him to go away, but the words wouldn’t come.

“I’ll be ready,” he croaked after a pause, his voice hoarse and thin.

There was silence on the other side of the door for a moment, then the sound of Jayce’s footsteps retreating down the hall. Viktor exhaled shakily, his gaze drifting back to the rumpled sheets beside him. Forcing himself to move, he stood and began to gather his things. Each motion felt mechanical, hollow. The knot in his chest didn’t loosen, but he pushed it down, swallowing it whole. It was almost Christmas. He had to pretend. At least for a little while longer.

#viktor arcane #viktor x reader #viktor fanfic #viktor x reader smut #viktor x f!reader #arcane #viktor smut #arcane fanfic #my writing #ao3 #ao3 fanfic #viktor x oc #viktor nation #the game of teaching body

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glitter-stained · 3 months ago

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Rapid-fire review of UTH where I just rate some of my favourite and least favourite moments wrt Jason's bpd/cptsd symptoms

1. Duffle bag of doom: 5/10

Starting tame, I'm undecided about the duffle bag because on one hand it we do get an explanation for that that doesn't outwardly have anything to do with mental illness but on the other hand I keep saying "cptsd doesn't make you behead people" because somehow that's what people keep insisting is the correct analysis for this scene?! Idk, maybe it's the shock value that makes it look so much like demonization. Treading dangerously, I'd say.

2. This man cannot stop yapping about how extraordinary Bruce is and the awe his presence makes you feel: 9/10

Love it love it love it. They should put this part right next to "extremes of idealization" in the dsm-5 bpd criteria. Literally just docked a point out of pettiness because I didn't like the interaction with Onyx right before.

3. Why is he doing that. Seriously why: 2/10

Look, in theory I do know why Jason's killing goons rather than black mask. DC can't afford for jason to kill them all, they probably gave winick like one shot at a rogue and he wisely decided that fuck nazis actually. But in story it just doesn't work with the goons, i can get behind killing like a rapist but the driver? Never explained why he would be chill with that, even feels in contradiction with Jason's decision in Lost Days when Lost Days are supposed to help us understand! Same for the gang leader part, we get the explanation that Jason has reached the conclusion this is the best option but it's never explained why? It also does feel pretty classist to have the kid from crime alley, who batman "rescued from a life of crime" by making him robin, become a gang leader, and as a whole the thing feels just so like, I can't reconcile post crisis jaybin, with his love and relationship to Willis Todd, and this, I need a satisfying explanation and it's never given, the only difference between here and Lost Days is that he's having an episode. It's just too weird. I genuinely think by making him attack different criminals rather than goons we'd have avoided this problem but again, hard to call a character a psychopath if he's only killing rapists I guess. Idk how much of that is psychophobia, how much is classism how much is the expectation that we'd agree this is the logical conclusion of Jason's opposing philosophy without questioning it and how much is me being a hard client for being dissatisfied by the granted explanation but like, it's really really frustrating.

4. Oh, beloved 10/10

Look at him. He's splitting so hard. The crisis triggered by the god falling from his pedestal with a dash of mirroring -yes yes yes yes that's the good shit. Love that panel.

#dc #jason todd #dc comics #red hood #batman under the red hood #obviously just a rapid review #more in depth meta to come later #i was just rereading and needed to share how much of a swinging pendulum my feelings about this one are #batman under the hood #uth #utrh #batman utrh #batman #jason todd meta

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3hks · 29 days ago

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Get to Know Your OCs! (ASK GAME)

Hello! A lot of people seemed to enjoy my first ask game quite a bit, so I figured why not release another one? Some of these are silly and fun, and others are more serious! It says that there's thirty questions, but some of them ask for more elaboration/have related questions added on, so it's technically a bit more than thirty. I'm slightly more experienced with these questions now so I hope you enjoy! (My apologies if I repeat any ones from my previous post!)

(1) ✎ What does your OC look for in a relationship?

(2) ✎ What was your OC's childhood dream? Where are they now?

(3) ✎ How does your OC feel about where they ended up?

(4) ✎ What inspired your OC's character?

(5) ✎ What school subject does your OC think is the most valuable? Why?

(6) ✎ What are your OC's toxic traits?

(7) ✎ What emotions/characteristics does your OC prefer to hide?

(8) ✎ What is your OC most concerned about in the beginning of the story? What about in the end?

(9) ✎ What is a tough lesson your OC learns during their journey?

(10) ✎ Why is it a valuable lesson to them?

(11) ✎ What song do you think defines your OC (or your OC's relationship with someone)?

(12) ✎ What is your OC's biggest fear? How does it influence them and their actions?

(13) ✎ What would your OC wait in a VERY long line for? Why?

(14) ✎ What is your OC's love language?

(15) ✎ How does your OC deal with failure and mistakes?

(16) ✎ How does your OC deal with success?

(17) ✎ How/what does your OC want to be perceived as?

(18) ✎ What (idea) does your OC base their morals around?

(19) ✎ Is your OC willing to break the rules and laws if they think it's right to do so?

(20) ✎ What does their OC miss about their childhood?

(21) ✎ What is something your OC struggles to understand? (School subject, a moral, ideal, sarcasm, etc.)

(22) ✎ What's something your OC wants other people to know but doesn't mention? Why don't they mention it?

(23) ✎ What is most commonly misunderstood about your OC?

(24) ✎ Does your OC have a hot take/hear me out? If so, what is it?

(25) ✎ What does your OC consider to be the biggest red flag? What influenced their choice?

(26) ✎ How would your OC act to a complete stranger (like in a conversation)?

(27) ✎ What's a skill your OC has that might surprise people?

(28) ✎ What's your OC's type? Do they have a partner? If so, how well does their partner fit into your OC's ideal standards?

(29) ✎ What's your OC's favorite time of day? Why?

(30) ✎ What does the person closest to your OC like the most about them? How well does your OC think they match the description?

Happy writing~

3hks :)

#writeblr #writing #writerscommunity #creative writing #writing inspo #writers on tumblr #ask game #get to know your characters #get to know your characters better #questions for your characters #get to know your ocs #questions for your ocs

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soaringwide · 10 months ago

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Pick a Card: What do you need to hear right now?

Hello and welcome back to a new pick a card reading!

Today is a general and open one, where we're going to look at What you need to hear right now.

As always this is a general reading meant for multiple people so it might not resonates 100%. There are only three piles and a shit ton of you. Takes what resonates and leave out the rest.

Check out my pinned post for more pick a cards or to book a paid reading.

PILE 1

Cards: 10 of Cups, King of Swords, 5 of Swords, the Chariot, the Empress, the Hanged Man, Queen of Cups, 4 of Pentacles, the High Priestess, Sweet Oblivion, Acceptance

Right now, you seem very preoccupied, by the idea of happiness and emotional fulfillment. I see you wanting more from life and not wanting to settle for your current circumstances. You are an idealist who wishes to enjoy life to its fullest, and I think that includes multiple areas of you life because you don't want to neglect any aspect of it.

But at the same time, there is this idea that your idea of ultimate happiness is an ideal, and ideals are not reality. Reality is uncertain and mysterious, we never know what's around the corner, and I think you're trying to get a hold of that by using your logic over your heart to try to understand and break down what it is you want from life. Truth is, when we want something, even when we get it, it never quite look like what we imagined, and that's quite a struggle when we want to control outcomes.

And I think you're fully aware of the fact that there are going to be some losses on your path towards this beautiful goal of yours. Perhaps you even have already experienced some. You might be wondering if that was all worth the effort in the end and feeling quite defeated on the inside. There might be frictions with you values and feeling like you have to sacrifice something dear to you.

However, despite these sour feelings, you feel like you have to stay determined to make it work and get out of the realm of what's known and comfortable. With the Chariot paired with the Empress, representing respectively Cancer and Venus, there is this idea of slow but unstoppable movement toward you ideal. It's really hard for you to let give up, unthinkable even. Both characters are crowned in stars, representing the hope for something better and the faith you have for yourself.

What you don't see, however, is that you are currently trapped in your own perspective and struggling to see things in a new angle. You are tied to the emotional baggage of your past and it's like you're trying to run away from the pain but you can't, you're stuck with it because its part of yourself, of your story. And I think to some extent you fail to see how these past emotions are affecting the way you see the situation. You learned to be very protective of your well-being, up to a fault because, right now, this inflexibility is creating struggle and pain where there is no need for it.

I also see that you're so focused on the prize that you're blinding yourself to everything else, which is part of why you are stuck in some way.

You advice regarding this situation is all about accepting that you cannot control everything, nor that you should. As we pointed out things will not always unfold the exact way you want them to, which is not necessarily a bad thing. You don't need to know everything, to see 10 steps ahead. It's okay to not know what you are doing, no one does. Yes you are doing that because you want to feel safe, but that's not how reality works. You can't trick your mind into thinking you have full control over your life, that's a delusion, and you're missing out on the mysterious adventure that is life.

So you need to let go a bit, surrender your desire for control and float through life with peace in your heart. What will be, will be. Some things cannot be changed with force and willpower alone. Some things are out of your control and all you can do is accept and let things unfold naturally. Right now you need to let loose a little and learn to have more faith in life and to trust that sometimes, the detours are exactly what we need to experience.

Key words: crisis of faith, winning at all costs, go big or go home, sunken cost fallacy, if i don't help myself then who will, crawling out of a hole, disillusionment, swimming against the current vs floating with it

PILE 2

Cards: King of Cups, Empress, 7 of Pentacles, the Hermit, the High Priestess, 3 of Swords, Ace of Wands, 7 of Cups, 8 of Pentacles, the Hanged Man, 3 of Cups, 8 of Swords, Rebirth

What you're being asked to look at today, is your emotional balance and the emotional work you've done on yourself to nurture and repair. It seems you've been working at it for quite some time, steadily and patiently. You've been caring for yourself, healing, like a gardener working in his orchards day after day, waiting for the harvest to finally come.

And you did quite well it seems! A lot has been accomplished already. You've done the work and sought inner knowledge; with bravery you looked at every shadow, every past hurt, every trauma, and you've learnt so much from it. You really consciously took the matter into your own hands and were directly acting on your issues. It still hurts at time though and you might be wondering when it will cease to be painful. Truth is, you keep touching the wound so it's probably not helping. I see you quite stuck in waiting for this harvest, the harvest being the point where you feel finally free from all of this ready to seize life again.

You also went through a time of isolation that made you stronger, but I'm also getting that you're struggling to get out of that isolation mode out of comfort and fear mostly. Sometimes when we go through something hard, it makes us feel alienated from others, like it's hard to relate to the everyday problems of people who were lucky enough not to go through something traumatic. It can make you feel envious, or at the very least, a bit disgusted and void of interest to connect with those people, because they just don't get it, and honestly, some people lack the emotional intelligence necessary to handle people who suffered a lot…hence the isolation.

What you don't see, is that you're ruminating your problems and that it's past the point of being helpful. It's like you're going over it again and again and again, trying to see if you can find yet another answer that would end the search once and for all. You're clearly overthinking your feelings and obsessively trying to find a solution to something that has none. What is done is done. Yes you need to mourn, yes you need to let time and introspection sooth the pain, but at some point, the only thing left to do is to move forward again.

The advice regarding this is that you need to drastically change your ways. Flip the way you live on its head. The cards point at getting out of this isolation mode, because the only thing holding you back is yourself in this case. It's like you're scared of going out into the world. You might not feel ready. You might not feel strong enough. You might not feel adequate for this world. But it's not true, it's just another result of overthinking your past hurt. It's time to step out and connect with other people. Celebrate, have fun, laugh, connect with others sincerely and without fear of not being understood. Yes some people won't get it but you'll also be pleasantly surprised by others, and you won't know until you tried.

It's time to leave the old behind, the old being those past hurt you're so familiar with, and this way of being you became so used to contain yourself in. You've spent enough time in the cocoon, now is time to break free from it and spread your wings. It might not be easy in the beginning, you might need to learn to fly again and it will be scary, but it's so, so worth it.

So ask yourself what living your life fully looks like to you. If you were completely free if nothing was holding you back, what would you want to? What would you want to become? Switch the overthinking from the tiny box you stuck yourself in, to the expansiveness of a mind that wants to reach to every corner of the world. The sky is the limit and it's time you look up.

Key words: breaking the shell, chrysalis, rebirth, being stuck in a maze of your own creation, scared to open up, meaningful connections, sunlight, removing the bandage

PILE 3

Cards: 6 of Pentacles, 6 of Swords, 2 of Cups, 2 of Swords, 2 of Pentacles, 10 of Cups, Page of Swords, 3 of Cups, 5 of Swords, 7 of Swords, 10 of Pentacles, 8 of Pentacles, the Great Goddess, Spirit of the Tree

The theme of your reading today is centered around the way you connect to others, be they people or spiritual forces.

More precisely, in the act of service you do for others, with a strong emphasis on keeping the balance in the exchange and the necessity to preserving the harmony between your thoughts and feelings.

With two 6 cards in this position, this highlights reflecting on the way you find the middle point in the way you give and receive your time and energy, but also what it costs you mentally and emotionally. This is a general reading so it's quite nebulous without context, but to some it could point at a specific relationship, or if you're someone who provides service for others, it could point at that, and it could also be relevant for those who do spiritual work.

In any case, what you're clear on in this situation, is that you've reached a point of no return. It's just no possible to keep doing things as you're doing them right now. You've been contemplating this recently and reached the conclusion that you can't make everyone happy at all costs, despite your desire for things to be perfect for all involved. You are sacrificing yourself in the process, to an extent that is not healthy for you. Exchanges between people are never fully balanced and that's just reality, but in the long run you should find some type of balance and not just giving yourself to keep everyone happy but yourself.

What you don't see in this situation is that you're getting the short hand of the stick when it doesn't have to be the case. If every interaction feels like a battle that you have to fight to sourly win, then was it really a win? Others can be here for you as well, for support and enjoyable shared moments. You should be able to all get something from this. If they never give you that, is it truly worth investing yourself in it?

There is a strong need for protecting your boundaries mentally as well. You don't see how letting others step all over you is detrimental to the way you perceive life. It maintains you in your little box where you need to expand your horizon. I think you somewhat lost that side of you. The side that seeks truth, that is strongly rooted in its individuality and critical mind. The you that seeks mental stimulation and adventurous ideas.

For the advice, you need to be honest with yourself because from what I understand, you do see the situation clearly, but for some reason, you're not acting on it. It's like you're lying to yourself a bit. You keep trying to make things work in this very unbalanced state, harming yourself in this task for the sake of others.

You need to look further and think of your abundance and legacy. What will you be remembered for? For what you did to others? It's very noble of you, but what about your enjoyment of life? What about your personal goals? What about what your heart desires?

Think of trees: we now know that despite being fully rooted in themselves and being whole and independent life forms, they do live in community and are able to communicate with each others across species and help each other. The big tree provides shade to the small plants, and the small plants keep the ground moist and fertile. They all benefit from this and create an ecosystem for all to live in.

You are being called to re-balanced things within you and in your life. To get to the root of this blockage you have regarding exchange and service in order to transform yourself. Perhaps what you're doing is actually detrimental to your ultimate goal, and being a bit more focused on yourself, selfish, even, would be the key for more stability.

Key words: giving and receiving, overworking yourself, beneficial selfishness, harmony between extremes, losing yourself in the work, waking up to what matters to you, long term goal, the wisdom of trees, creation and destruction

#pick a card #PAC reading #pick a pile #pick a card reading #tarot reading #tarot #tarotblr #tarot community #divination #soaringwide #soaringwide tarot reading #pick an image #pick a photo #pick a picture

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krystella-shifts · 3 months ago

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More of my manifestation success stories (recent) ˚˖𓍢ִ໋`🌿:✧˚.📷⋆𖧧

1. THE AESTHETIC ideal purse I've been wanting 😆 it's so good and perfect and so aesthetic. It was expensive so i was thinking if I should manifest it but then I was like bruh I'm supposed to live my best life here.

2. One of my trusted sub maker posted the sub I wanted woo hoo!

3. Family trip! (It was two months ago but 😃)

4. Mom and aunt getting the job! They wanted it so they got it cuz they have me 💅🏻✨

5. Everything going my way~

6. Blowing up on Tumblr

7. Getting asks cuz I luv helping y'all 😌

8. Cancelling classes many times

9. Manifesting everything instantly as always

10. Getting into the void stateee

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lynxgriffin · 4 months ago

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I have a couple questions regarding "Mightier Than the Sword", which was incredibly well made and a wonderful little 'what if' origin tale (and very sad oneshot of grief and loss). I hope you don't mind that they're all in one ask because they just kept bubbling up.

Were the flowers behind Gerson's bed chosen for any specific reason? It looks like a particularly designed bouquet but I don't know flower language.

2. Does this mean that the Lightners of Hometown were in a war? I mean, Gerson has his hammer here... but he's also old as balls considering he's a turtle monster who equals UT Asgore in age. If timeline diverged between UT and DR based on the War itself...

3. Now I'm picturing Gerson as DR's version of Tolkien and I mean that in the best way possible. (Not a question, just a fun note.) Also he feels perfectly IC. He had a life well lived and is trying to help his son see that, but you can know things but heartache doesn't matter especially not when its still so raw (poor Alvin).

4. Does Ink Knight have any of Gerson's memories (Flowey Situation due to Souldust) or is he his own entity since there was no "Determination" soulgoop? Also I think its not on purpose but Knight having thick blond hair (and possible beard) reminds me of Asgore.

5. Alvin flashed back to the panel with the Souldust on the Pen. Does he know...? That the funeral wasn't fully completed as the pen wasn't buried with the hammer? Or is he in denial?

6. Speaking of Alvin, the panel behind him as he begs the Angel to let his dad live longer? The light behind him resembles Judgement Hall. Is that a coincidence because of golden light and dark shadows?

Thank you for sharing the comic and I hope you have a pleasant day.

Oh wow, thank you so much for the very long and detailed ask! I'll see if I can answer everything here!

Sadly, I don't know flower language either, so I can't say that the flowers mean anything in particular! They're mostly there because I wanted to make sure the backgrounds felt full and lived in. A bouquet seemed appropriate there!

I don't think in this universe there was a war between humans and monsters...at least if there was, there's not really indication of that thusfar in the monsters' regular lives. I think the hammer was more in reference to Gerson's book series, or was an actual hammer that he used for smithing, since it's mentioned that he started work as a metalsmith before going into writing.

Honestly, I think the game itself is absolutely supposed to be getting that idea across, too! Alvin mentions that Gerson wrote stories for his children before they were published and beloved by people the world over, which is a pretty clear callout to what Tolkien actually did. The title 'Lord of the Hammer' is also a pretty obvious parallel to Lord of the Rings, and Susie talks about it like it's a nerdy epic fantasy series. I think we're supposed to read Gerson as this universe's Tolkien! (And thank you!)

He's probably got some memories of his previous self, yeah, and probably some more awareness of the relationship between the Light and Dark worlds. Mostly the idea is that it's his soul filtered through a personal object that signifies something very specific: namely, the drive to keep writing. His look is also supposed to invoke Gerson, but a younger, much more idealized version of him than we know!

Let's say Alvin is about 90% certain that yes, his father's soul ended up in the pen. There's some denial in there, and some confusion, and some genuine fear, that's taking up the other 10%. But yeah, for the most part he realizes that his father was not properly buried, and it's weighing horribly on him. Hence the "does this hammer really deserve to..." line that we hear in canon. (Or at least, that's my interpretation of that line!)

The light and shadows there are meant to invoke the silhouette of the delta rune, so yeah, a bit of a parallel to the judgment hall. It's basically supposed to indicate that the Angel did hear his prayer, and is answering it!

Thank you again for reading and for all the comments and questions!!

#ask lynx stuff

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markantonys · 2 months ago

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my hot take is that i think 6 would be the ideal number of seasons for wotshow! i know everybody gasps and clutches their pearls anytime i suggest that less than 8 seasons could actually work and be good and be plenty of time haha and for that reason i will make this unrebloggable, mostly just musing to myself over here, not looking to start an argument! but if we put s4 finale as dumai's wells, which is a big turning point in the series.........i honestly struggle to imagine 4 full seasons' worth of story for most of the main characters after that point. most of them kinda only have 1 major story arc between dumai's wells and last battle prep, tbh, and the rest of the pagetime in all those books is made up of either cuttable sidequests (ebou dar, far madding, etc) or cuttable minor characters and their cuttable subplots eating up an absolutely inordinate amount of pagetime while the mains tread water and take 4 books to accomplish something they should've been able to do in 1. it's also worth noting that stuff often takes less time to do in the show than we might assume; for example, a lot of people might assume mat's moiraine rescue heist should take up half of an episode since it's important, but it's actually not that long of a sequence and i bet they could do it in like 10-15 minutes.

now for a layout of how each main character could do 6 seasons!

rand: s4 dealing with caemlyn and maybe also cairhien with anvaere as colavaere, finale dumai's wells leaving him ready to downward spiral into a dark place next season; s5 darth rand as the season-long emotional arc with smaller plot beats like the cleansing and semirhage peppered throughout (cairhien could also be placed here), finale epiphany; s6 loose ends (like bonding with his partners, which i feel could work great as a post-epiphany narrative reward rather than being crammed in before he starts going downhill) and last battle

egwene: s4 going to salidar and being raised amyrlin maybe as the midseason climax, then second half of season heading for tar valon with finale cliffhanger being kidnapped; s5 tower arc, finale seanchan battle; s6 loose ends (gawene, TAR battle with mesaana's substitute unless that somehow gets folded into the seanchan battle) and last battle

perrin: s4 maybe masema is dealt with early to fill up perrin's TFOH absence, finale dumai's wells; s5 faile kidnapping arc married to his TOM whitecloak alliance storyline by having galad's whitecloaks be his devil-deal for rescuing faile rather than the seanchan (and maybe it's the seanchan who kidnap faile, thus letting the shaido be done with after dumai's wells and ensuring all the main characters are narratively connected to the seanchan during s5); s6 loose ends and last battle

mat: s4 forming the band and maybe leading them at dumai's wells as the culmination; s5 some kind of storyline that covers his tuon and seanchan involvement, though i imagine the circumstances would have to be fairly different from canon if ebou dar is indeed cut (maybe he absorbs ituralde and leads campaigns against the seanchan on rand's behalf, which brings him into tuon's path, though idk how it would play out after that since he wouldn't abandon his own army to haul her off on a solo roadtrip, unless maybe something happened to force him to); s6 loose ends (moiraine rescue - i think it would make more sense as an early-season event in the final season, and in the penultimate season finale all we get is a cliffhanger tease that moiraine might be alive) and last battle

nynaeve: barely has any story to speak of after ebou dar besides being a cheerleader for rand/lan/elayne, so even for a 6-season model they'd probably have to make stuff up for her (i still like my previous suggestion of rand having sent ALL his partners away during darth rand time, which here would be s5, and so nynaeve is the one he almost kills during the collaring incident, and this causes him to send her away too, to the black tower where she and logain basically replace pevara and androl in cleaning up that mess, thus ensuring this important storyline is in the hands of a main character, neatly paralleling egwene's efforts to clean up the mess at the white tower during the same season, tying out nynaeve's connections with logain as the one who healed him AND in showverse as someone who also witnessed his gentling and whom he was impressed by, and being a poetic conclusion to the show's flirtation with the idea of nynaeve joining the red ajah by having her instead be a key figure in *helping* men who can channel)

elayne: s4 rejoins the waste crew to get folded into avirand's relationship and work with rand on retaking caemlyn; s5 succession arc; s6 loose ends (cairhien throne maybe) and last battle

the main issue here is that that's putting a whole bunch of major climactic events in the s5 finale (rand's epiphany, egwene vs. the seanchan, perrin's battle of malden, elayne's battle that makes her queen), but i'm sure they could spread these across two different episodes like s3 is doing (perhaps elayne & perrin in ep7 and egwene & rand in ep8). and there also isn't a great way to *not* have all these late-series climaxes coincide unless some characters have their single late-series storyline stretched across 2 seasons, which i'd say is a big no-no for TV.

so, yeah! i'd never say no to 7 or 8 seasons of course, but when *i* game it out, 6 is the number i naturally land on, although i know i'm much more merciless about cutting stuff than a lot of readers are! hell, even rafe is taking s3 at a slower pace than i'd initially proposed back before we knew anything. 6 also has the advantage of being a pretty reasonable and realistic number to hope for in today's television landscape (WOT's sister-show ROP is slated for 5, so reasonable to imagine WOT might land somewhere around that number too). 5 seasons would be tight but doable, 7 or 8 would be luxurious, but i would be extremely pleased to get 6 even if that's less than rafe's max possible number.

my final note is that i suspect we are now around about the Decision Point where amazon has to let rafe know how many total seasons he'll get so he can plan out s4 accordingly, and thus i also suspect that s3 will leave everyone pretty much exactly in their TSR ending spots, which would make them all well-positioned to pivot into different things in s4 depending on the future plan. (for example, say elayne and nynaeve are still in tanchico at the end of s3. this way, if it's decided there will be 7 or 8 seasons, they can head off to salidar in s4 and take time for a sidequest, whereas if it's decided there will be 5 or 6 seasons, they may have to scoot straight over to rand & co right off the bat in s4 to get ready to launch into the caemlyn arc.)

#wot #wot book spoilers #i know i've made posts similar to this before but i always love to rotate potential full-show structure ideas in my brain!#especially during the excitement of preparing for a new season

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blorger · 4 months ago

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Hi! What are your thoughts on the Weasleys as a family and each of them?

Hello friend, I have many Thoughts on the Weasleys, so many that I'm going to have to condense things a bit for the purpose of this ask. To make a long story short, I am glad that they are there for Harry as a found family of sort but, at the end of the day, I like the idea of the Weasley family more than the execution.

If you look at what the Weasleys actually do for Harry when he's still a vulnerable minor you realise that they (in this case the adults) are not actually very helpful to him. Like, when your 12 year old son shows you up in terms of caring about Harry's abuse I think it's time to look inward (I'm looking at you Arthur).

Also, as a someone who was raised in a dysfunctional environment, I can't help but raise my eyebrows whenever the Weasleys are presented as the Ideal Family. If those children were real they'd be a therapist's wet dream, just saying.

As for them individually:

Molly: I loathe Molly, she's one of my least favourite characters in all of the books. I hate how she's depicted as the Ideal Mom when in reality she's pretty shit: she blatantly plays favourites among her children; she openly favours Harry in a way that, if I was Ron, I'd resent tremendously; she's a boymom of the highest degree and her treatment of Fleur is straight up vile. On a meta level, I hate that she only seems to exist as a Mother (and, to a lesser extent, as a Wife): The only interest of hers that cannot, in some shape or form, be tied back to her family is her love of Celestina Warbeck (and that is something we are supposed to laugh at her for). 0/10

Arthur: I'm not a fan of him either. Seeing that the Weasley family is constructed like some sort of 50ies white picket fence nightmare, Arthur is by design uninvolved in his children's lives and that is super gross to me. As I mentioned before, I hate that he witnesses firsthand how Harry is treated at the Dursleys and does nothing. Speaking of Dursleys, I very much dislike the patronising way he seems to enjoy muggle culture (and muggles in general); to me, it reads very Noble Savage-y. My favourite thing about Arthur is the 10ft tall hate-boner he has for Lucius Malfoy but other than that I'm not exactly a fan. 3/10

Bill: little to no opinion, canon bill is there to be occasionally helpful (and for Harry to glowingly review). He's obviously the golden child of the family but, considering he fucked off to Egypt as soon as he was able to, he does not seem to relish in the role. 6/10

Charlie: He is honestly barely a character in canon, so I have no opinion of him. He is another example of a Weasley kid fucking off asap after Hogwarts so there's that, also I like fanon gay Charlie . 6/10

Percy: A parentified middle child who struggles to receive attention from his parents and ends up drifting away from the family? Percy is the most realistic out of all the Weasley children (in that I could conceivably see a child like him come out of a family with those dynamics) and the books hate him for it. Personally, I enjoy him and I enjoy reading stories that examine his thoughts and motivations because the narrative doesn't give two shits about him. 8/10

Fred & George: When I was reading the books as a child they were my favourite characters. Looking at them with adult eyes, I'm now incredibly turned off by their mean-spiritedness. 4/10 (they do treat Harry rather well though so kudos to them for that)

Ron: Ron is honestly one of the best-written characters in the books. As readers we see his many faults and mistakes but we also see him trying to improve and we see how genuinely he cares about Harry&Hermione. I like how, even as Ron improves thoughout the books, his core character traits remain the same. I like Ron, not only because he's a good friend, but because he's imperfect. 10/10

Ginny: Ok concept, terrible execution. Ginny is barely a person, her personality gets changed to suit the narrative and her character basically only exists in function to Harry's. Even at her best, when we're supposed to go gaga over her, she's still deeply disappointing. 1/10

xoxo

#hp #the weasleys #AMA

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ladykailitha · 8 months ago

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Never Hold Back Your Step... Part 13

This really is getting down to the end here. I'm already at the Mind Flayer in the spot where I'm at in the story so...yeah. Then it would just one chapter after that. Maybe. I don't know. But it's sad to see this one go, too.

Of course as with "Can Anybody See Me?" once this is done, I will begin work on the final story which will take us all the way to the end of the fourth season. Which I hope to get done before season 5. Ideally.

It will have a line from a song in a musical just like the last two (1776 and The Scarlet Pimpernel respectively) so you have any songs you think will fit the theme of the third book (which will be Steve and Eddie clashing over nerds vs sports until that fateful day in March) let me know in the comments or tags or even a DM or ask. It took me months to come up with the title for this one, so any help would be great.

Here we have the dipshit detectives trying to figure out the message and the "secret tunnel".

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12

Once they explained everything to Robin, she told them about what the message said. And no given the context of the message coming from the mall it suddenly made too sense.

“The clock tower, the shoe shop and the Chinese place,” she crowed. “It’s got to be.”

“You sure you translated it correctly?” Steve asked. “Because what the fuck does blue meeting yellow have anything to do with the clock tower?”

Robin rolled her eyes and huffed out a deep sigh. “The hour and minute hands are blue and yellow and meeting in the west would be 9:45!”

Eddie tilted his head to the side. “AM or PM?”

Robin stared at him for a moment in shock. “Oh. I don’t know. Could be either I guess.”

Eddie looked at his watch and cursed. “As thrilling as all this has been, I have to get to band practice.” He gave Steve’s shoulder a squeeze. “Be careful, Stevie. Okay?”

Steve nodded and squeezed Eddie’s shoulder back. God, he just want to kiss him goodbye, because it might be his last opportunity to do so. But Dustin and Robin were watching and probably half of the mall too. “As careful as I can be.”

“How can you be so super chill about this?” Robin asked after he left. “Like Russians are running around our mall and Eddie acts like this is a normal Tuesday for you?”

Dustin and Steve shared a glance.

But Steve just scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Like I’ve had the worst year. My girlfriend broke up with me, I got my head bashed in by Hargrove, I got harassed by the basketball team, I nearly got water dumped on my head because I won the part fair and square, then the same asshole tried to scramble my brains further, I didn’t get into the right colleges and was forced to work here instead of the rec center pool like have for the last three years, and a fuck ton of other things. Now Russians have set up shop in my home town? This is just the cherry on top of a very shit filled cake.”

Robin and Dustin winced. Dustin knew that Steve’s year was actually way worse than the truncated version he gave Robin, but they couldn’t tell her about the tunnels, El, monsters, and secret labs. Hence, fuck ton of things.

“Okay,” Robin conceded, “it does sound like your average Tuesday.” She looked up at the clock. “You’re supposed to be off, anyway. So shoo and take the genius child with you.”

Dustin beamed up Steve smugly, but Steve just knocked his hat off on his way to clock out.

“Hey!” Dustin shouted after him. He turned to Robin. “Can you believe this guy?”

Robin just shrugged. “You’re the one who’s friends with him, not me.”

Steve walked out moments later, twirling the hat on his finger. He walked past Dustin to the mall food court. He stopped and turned around.

“Are you coming or are you going to keep harassing workers?” he huffed, putting a hand on his hip.

Robin burst out laughing as Dustin hurried to catch up, scooping his hat off the floor in haste.

Steve shook his head as they walked through the mall. “Hey if we grab my binoculars, I bet we could stake out the mall and look for Russians.”

Steve looked at his watch and sighed. Eddie wouldn’t get done with band practice until much later tonight and he didn’t want to go back to his large empty house, because of course his parents fucked off to the Caribbean for the summer. His father had forced him to give up a job he loved for the most humiliating retail job imaginable and then fucked off to some place pleasant, leaving him to rot.

“Yeah, okay.”

Dustin let out a whoop and jumped up and down. “You won’t regret this!”

Steve buried his head in his hands. “I already do.”

Steve and Dustin were hiding behind a large potted plant with Dustin’s binoculars watching people go by.

“What are we supposed to looking for, anyway?” Steve asked, scanning the crowds.

“Russians.”

Steve tore himself away from the binoculars to glare at him. “Thank you for that unhelpful assessment. I know I’m supposed to be looking for Russians, but what do Russians look like?”

“I don’t know,” Dustin huffed. “Tall, blond, scary looking dudes, I guess.”

Steve rolled his eyes and kept looking. He spotted Anna Jacobi flirting with Mark Lewinsky and huffed out a a noise of disgust.

“You have got to be kidding me,” he said with a sigh. “Anna can do way better than swamp ass Lewinsky.”

Dustin smacked his shoulder. “Can you please take this seriously? You’re supposed to be looking for Russians, not your next date. Besides you already have the perfect girl right there!”

Steve rolled his eyes and went back to looking through the binoculars. “Don’t say Robin.”

“Robin.” Was the immediate response.

“No, man,” Steve said as Dustin grabbed the binoculars from him, “she’s not my type. She’s not even in the ballpark of my type.” Considering that she had boobies and not a dick, pretty much sealed the box on any chances of that romantic relationship going anywhere.

Dustin looked over at him and sneered. “And what’s your type again? Not awesome?”

Fuck you. But Steve sneered and stuck his tongue out. “Thank you.”

Dustin grinned back at him with a little hum.

“Look,” Steve said, “for your information, she’s still in school. And she’s weird. But not like Eddie weird. Weird, weird. And she’s hyper. Like worse than Eddie. At least if you put a book in his hand, he’ll settle down. She’ll tap her fingers and twirl her gum. She was also one of those kids in drama who didn’t think I deserved the role of Thomson. That’s a bad look. And she’s in band? But not a rock band like Eddie, a fucking trumpet.” He twisted his lips in disgust. “No.”

Dustin turned to face him. “Now that you’re out of school, that means you’re an adult. And don’t you think you should move past primitive social constructs like popularity?”

Steve looked at him as if he was joking. “Popularity? Are you fucking with me right now? Did you forget I wasn’t popular for the last four months of high school? Primitive constructs, I tell you. Where the hell did you learn that shit? Camp Know Nothing?”

“Camp Know Where, actually,” Dustin huffed, “And no, it’s shit I learned from life. Instead of dating someone you think will make you cool again, why not date someone you enjoy being around for a change? Like me and Suzie.” He smiled broadly. He turned back to watching the through the binoculars.

Steve was soo close to just telling the little shit that he was dating someone he enjoyed being around, someone who did make him look cooler, someone who loved him for him and not in spite of him. But instead he took a deep breath and said, “Oh Suzie. Yeah, you mean hotter than Phoebe Cates. That Suzie. And let’s think about how exactly you scored a girlfriend?”

He scratched his head, appearing to think about it, then he snapped his fingers. “Oh yeah, with my advice. Because that’s how this works, Henderson. I give the advice and you follow through. Not the other way around, all right?”

Dustin sighed. “I just think you could really benefit from being with someone like her, you know?”

Steve rubbed the top of the kid’s head. “I’m doing better than you think I am. Better then everyone thinks I am.”

Dustin stared at him skeptically, but left it alone. Steve knew that there was no way he was going to leave it alone. He just knew that it was going to come back and bite him in the ass in the worst way and at the worst time. He could feel it.

“There is a secret room under the mall,” Steve said slowly, not quite wanting to believe this. “And we can get there through the air vents in the break room?”

Robin nodded emphatically. “Yeah, isn’t that cool?”

He had no idea how to tell her how uncool that actually was, because Jesus fuck, the deeper they got into this, the more over his head he felt.

“Let’s go see your secret tunnel,” he said with a sigh, rubbing his face, just suddenly exhausted by the whole thing.

He followed them to the back and looked up at the vent in utter despair. Sighing, he got a ladder and set it up, then hunted around for a screwdriver. Once he found one, he tucked it between his teeth and started climbing. He reached the vent and unscrewed the screws holding the vent in place.

“Oi!” he called out to Dustin. “Hold these!” He held out the screws for him to take. “Don’t lose them, otherwise people are going to ask why there is a great big gaping hole in the wall.”

Dustin rolled his eyes, but did as he was told. Steve put the screwdriver back between his teeth and took off the vent cover.

“It’s a tight space,” he murmured. “Hey, Robin you think you could fit? You’re pretty thin.”

Robin put her hands on her hips and glared up at him. “While I appreciate you thinking I’m skinny enough to fit, I question your sanity if you think I’m going down the creepy tunnel.”

“Vent!” Dustin huffed. “You’ve both called it a tunnel. It’s not a tunnel, it’s a vent. And none of us are small enough to fit.”

DING! DING! “Hey!” someone called out from the front of the store. “Is anyone here?”

Steve who had been climbing down the ladder, stopped and shared a look with Dustin. A slow smile took over their faces.

“Erica!” they said together with glee.

They ran out to the front with Robin fast on their heels. They skidded to a stop and their smiles grew to actual grins when they saw that she was alone and not with her many friends.

“Erica...hey,” Steve said smoothly, leaning against the counter. “What can I get you?”

She narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously. “Why are you suddenly being so nice?”

Just then Dustin and Robin burst out of the back room and stumbled into front and Erica was even more suspicious than she was before.

So Steve bundled her over to one of the booths and tried plying her with all the ice cream a little girl could conceivably eat, while Dustin filled both Robin and Erica about the messages and all their clues and how they put it all together. It was a hard but impressive sell.

“So will you do it for America?” Dustin asked.

“Well, you can’t spell America without Erica,” she said smugly. “A life time supply of Scoops Ice Cream and you’ve got a deal.”

Robin and Steve shared a glance. Then Steve reached across the table to shake Erica’s hand.

“Deal.”

Part 14 Part 15 Part 16

And if you remember something else there from WIP Wednesday... yeah. It wasn't fitting with the rest of the story and had to be cut. Sadness.

Tag List: FIVE SLOTS REMAINING

1- @mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog

2- @gregre369 @a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @kultiras

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @justforthedead89 @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @blondie1006

5- @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @angels-of-hades

7- @mugloversonly @y4r3luv @greeniebean911 @birbsauce @acingthecounts

8- @cryptid-system @counting-dollars-counting-stars @ravenfrog @dreamercec @sadisticaltarts

9- @clockworkballerina @bluelightsinthevoid @blcksh33p1987 @i-go-pink-in-the-night @mamafaithful

#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #boy with a bat

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