#and I've been thinking about their dynamics for a while

[hivemuthur]

Hii! Thank you for replying. I've read five things and loved it so much I wanted to send another ask, and somehow managed to forget to send it, but never mind here it is now.

I was thinking a viktor×reader who were eachother's first everything (early academy days?) but than the reader had to move away for schooling/work, whatever, but now they're back (sometime after the beginning of hextech) and have to work with jayce and viktor. How would that dynamic look like? They didn't breakup over an argument or because they fell out of love but because that's the way life took them. I'm imagining them knowing eachother so well inside and out to the point people just assume they're dating. (Reader making viktors coffee even better than he can himself, viktor making something to fix a problem reader has but never had a solution for, anything really). And I don't know, maybe, possibly, somehow the tension gets to be too much for both of them and they're both more skilled now and whatnot... (I could live without that part tho, is you feel like it doesn't fit)

Sorry if the ask is too complicated, I've just been thinking about it for so long.

I know it's gonna be a while before you can write it but I can't wait to read all of the other requests in the meantime.❤️

~🍒

Dear sweet 🍒 Janna, hello again! Here's your fic!

Same As It Ever Was

viktorxfemale!reader explicit! a bit of everything - fluff, angst (light), smut

word count: 5,6K

author’s note: this is very freeform, an experiment, kinda? A story told in vignettes, little scenes between Viktor and Reader since the moment she came back to the Academy interwoven with their past, sex included. For this to work, I've written current events in Present Tense and the flashbacks in Past Tense.

artist on X (obsessed at this point)

—

You brace yourself with a deep breath—just as you did all those years ago. With lungs full of air, you cross the threshold, and memories come crashing back. Heimerdinger’s lectures, suspicious cafeteria food, noise complaints from your neighbours when Jayce laughed too loud in your dorm. Your dorm itself—its lumpy bed, not enough cabinet space for your books, scattered notes, and long night study sessions with Viktor.

As promised, he and Jayce are there, waiting to pick you up in the entrance hall. Jayce is as giddy as ever—stretching, chattering, busying himself with the announcement board, occasionally pointing at something to get Viktor’s attention. He looks almost the same.

Viktor, on the other hand—nearly still. He leans on a… crutch? It’s a crutch now, huh. You wince at not knowing sooner. An extra brace on his leg as well. His form is more hunched than you remember. He nods at Jayce’s remarks absently, craning his head toward the door, and his face—oh. It lights up when he sees you, just as it used to. Your heart travels all the way up to your throat.

You have to force yourself not to skip. Jayce reaches you first, nearly crashing into you with his embrace. He’s stronger than before, his shoulders broader. Either he’s gotten taller, or Viktor looks shorter. He pats your back and chuckles a mumbled hi—but your eyes are already on Viktor.

He opens his arms in an inviting gesture, and you slide right in. He still fits. He still smells the same, though there’s a lingering trace of oil on his collar. His hair is longer, and his clothes hang looser on his frame, but he feels the same. His neck is just as pretty, his hands just as strong. They go where they used to—one to your back, the other cradling the nape of your neck. You take one last inhale before he pulls back, a familiar spark playing in his eyes as he says, "Welcome back."

***

You stared at the schedule board, squinting as you tried to make sense of the messy list. You muttered under your breath, crossing out dates in frustration when the door behind you creaked open.

A voice spoke from behind, calm and precise. “Do you need assistance?”

You turned to see him—tall, neat, with a cane at his side. Pretty hair falling boyishly over his forehead, eyes the colour of liquid gold, two freckles decorating his upper lip and a spot under his eye. His voice was thickly accented, and you suddenly felt dumber than ever.

“What gave me away?” you huffed, managing a smile. “Groaning or furious scribbling?”

“Eh, a little bit of both,” he said, leaning in slightly to point at a part of the board. “Let me help?”

You handed him your notebook, and he made quick work of explaining the confusing schedule. “Looks like we’ll be seeing each other,” he hummed, studying your timetable.

Thank the gods, you thought. Feigning surprise instead of relief, you raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

He nodded, the faintest smile pulling at his lips. “I’m looking forward to having class with you. I’m Viktor.”

In response, you muttered your name in one breath.

Without another word, he pressed the notebook into your hand, making sure your hands brushed, then turned and walked away, leaving you standing there, momentarily dumbfounded.

***

You follow Jayce and Viktor through the lab, eyes wide as they show you around. The space is far more impressive than you remember—equipment gleams, wires stretch across the ceiling like intricate veins, and the hum of machinery fills the air. Jayce is practically bouncing with excitement, narrating every little detail with an energy that nearly has you dizzy, while Viktor stays quieter, his gaze focused, occasionally glancing at you as though checking for your reactions.

You’re still trying to wrap your mind around everything when the tour finally ends, and Viktor turns to you with a small smile. “Is there anything you need?” he asks, his voice as smooth and calm as ever.

You consider it for a moment, then sigh dramatically. “I would kill for a coffee.”

Jayce snorts a laugh, “Things don’t really change, do they? Do you want to make it yourself as usual?”

“Of course, as you mentioned—things don’t change, which means I still don’t trust any of you with your coffee-making skills, Jayce,” you reply with a smirk, stepping past him toward the kitchenette area. Viktor watches you closely, but you don’t pay him any mind as you start pulling out the necessary ingredients. “Do you want one?” you throw over your shoulder. And Viktor nods with a smile.

You fall into an easy rhythm, just like old times. Your hands work quickly, grinding the beans, adjusting the water temperature, adding the perfect amount of milk—exactly how you know he likes it. It’s almost like your body remembers, and you can’t help but feel a strange sort of nostalgia as the familiar process comes naturally.

The sound of Viktor clearing his throat breaks your focus, and when you turn, he’s standing a little closer than you expected. His eyes are fixed on the coffee mug in your hands, and the way he’s staring at it almost makes you laugh.

You hand him the cup with a raised brow. “Did I get it right?”

He takes a slow sip, his expression unreadable at first. Then, after a long pause, he sets the cup down carefully on the counter, still looking at you, and says quietly, “Perfect.”

The fact that you remember how to make it, that you remember him—how he likes it, what he’s used to—has him speechless. You watch him for a moment, unsure of what he’s thinking, and the quiet fills the space between you both.

“Just like before,” he says, as though to himself, and you can't help but smile.

***

“Okay, coffee or death,” you whined, pressing your forehead to the desk with exaggerated dramatics. It had been your fourth hour of studying, and the letters on the page began to blur.

“I guess it’s coffee then,” Viktor stretched his legs in the chair before scrambling up to the kettle. “I have no idea how I would explain a corpse in my room.”

“I do not care what motivates your actions, I’m just in dire need of something keeping me alive, or I will fail this class,” you mumbled, still buried in the notes resting under your face. A cup set firmly by your left cheek made your eyebrow quirk, and you let out a sigh of contentment.

“Ah, sweet salvation,” you hummed, grabbing it and taking a sip. And then—

“Viktor. What is this?”

Viktor’s voice was light as he shrugged. “It’s a coffee strong enough to keep you awake until morning.”

You winced, shaking your head slightly. “It’s so strong, it could actually solve the dead body problem you’ve mentioned before.”

He chuckled at that, his gaze still on you. “I suppose that’s one way to describe it.”

You huffed in frustration. “Do I have to do everything myself?”

Viktor only grinned, a spark of amusement in his eyes.

You rolled your eyes, pushing yourself out of your chair and crossing the room to the counter. “Alright, move aside.” You grabbed the ingredients with a practiced hand, preparing a new brew. “This is coffee, not the motor fluid you made.”

Viktor leaned back in his chair, watching you as you worked. “That’s very thoughtful. I suppose you can always become a barista if you fail the class.”

You turned, one eyebrow raised in challenge. “Just wait, Viktor. You’ll see. If I fail, I’ll open my own shop. I’ll call it ‘Professor Coffee’—I’ll make sure the brew is strong enough to wake the dead.”

Viktor’s laugh was soft but genuine. “It seems you’ve got it all figured out.”

***

You reach out, barely muttering, “Could you pass me…” before the tool is already in your hand. You glance at Viktor, who hasn’t even looked up from his work.

“How did you know?” you ask, eyebrows furrowing in surprise.

He taps his temple, a small smile playing beneath his goggles. “I have a good memory.”

***

You frowned at your workbench, trying to put a name to the tool you needed, but your mind blanked.

“Can you pass me the…” you began, unsure, your voice trailing off. You made a small gesture with your hand, hoping Viktor would somehow understand what you meant. Without hesitation, he handed you a wrench.

“No, not this,” you said, waving it off. “The other one?” You gestured again.

Viktor stared at you, brows furrowed, before passing you a screwdriver.

“Not that one either!” you huffed, frustration creeping in—not with him, but because your mind had suddenly decided to fail.

The ritual continued, with Viktor visibly amused as your hand hovered over the various tools he’d passed you. Wrenches, pliers, a hammer, and a couple of screwdrivers littered the workbench. You glanced down at your notes, trying to remember.

Viktor hummed, looking from your desk to your notes. His eyes narrowed, and his lips curled into a knowing smile. “Ah. This one?”

Before you could respond, he was standing behind you, lowering the tool into your hand. His arms brushed the sides of your face, and you felt the press of his stomach against your back. For a moment, you froze, breath catching in your throat.

“A calliper,” you whispered.

“Well done, lásko,” Viktor muttered into your ear.

***

The clock announces an hour way past when you’ve expected to be home already. “Should we call it a night?” you ask Viktor, who sits opposite you, a soft smile curling on his lips.

“Some things have changed, then,” he says, tapping his crutch lightly against the floor. “You used to work until figurative death back in the day.”

“Well, I guess I’m getting older,” you reply with a grin, your tone light but laced with a touch of weariness. “What about you? Any big changes?”

He knocks on his brace playfully, lifting the crutch with a small gesture. “Besides the visible?” He chuckles softly. “Not much. Still working to the death.”

Your smile falters for a second, your gaze softening as you roll closer to him on your chair. You rest your hands gently on his knees, studying his face for any signs of deeper discomfort.

“Are you well, though?” you ask, your voice quiet, careful.

Viktor looks at your hands for a moment, then props the crutch on the desk beside him. He squeezes your palms, his grip firm but tender.

“I am now,” he replies, his voice low, almost like a confession. “Haven’t been for a while, but now I’m well. As well as I can be.” He pauses for a beat, then adds with a small smile, “And now that you’re back, I’m even better.”

You brush your fingers gently through his hair, feeling the familiar warmth of his presence, the intimacy of the gesture. Viktor hums softly, his eyes fluttering closed in response. So familiar, you think, a wave of nostalgia washing over you.

You swallow before speaking again, a bittersweet smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “I’ve missed you.”

Viktor’s eyes remain closed, his expression softening, and when he speaks, his voice heavier now when he sighs. “I know.” He pauses, squeezing your hand once more. “I’ve missed you too.”

***

You and Viktor lay in bed together, tangled in the warmth of each other’s embrace. His arm was draped around you, and the soft rise and fall of his chest beneath your cheek was a steady comfort. The room was quiet, unbearably so, when you nuzzled into his neck, inhaling deeply. His scent—rich, familiar, like the warmth of him—filled your senses, and you clutched him tighter, as though trying to memorize the feeling of him.

"I'm going to miss you so much," you whispered, your voice muffled against his skin, your breath shaky with the weight of the thought.

Viktor hummed softly in response, his fingers tracing small circles on your back. "I know. I will miss you terribly too." His words were gentle, but there was a deep sadness in his voice that you could feel even without looking at him.

He nudged your face with his nose, his palm warm as it cupped your cheek. His touch felt like a promise, though you weren't sure what to expect. "If it's meant to be, we will meet again," he said, his voice low, the words wrapped in the quiet certainty.

A pang in your chest tugged at you, and without thinking, you leaned up, pressing your lips to his. The kiss was soft, but your heart ached with the knowledge that this might be the last time you felt him close. It tasted with bitter acceptance, as you poured every bit of feeling you had into it, hoping it would somehow last, somehow hold you both together despite the distance that would come.

When you pulled away, your heart felt heavy, like it was breaking in your chest.

***

You both sit on the couch in your apartment, papers and notes scattered around you, a quiet hum of frustration bounces between you. Viktor’s hair is dishevelled, falling into his eyes, and his shirt has found its way half-out of his pants, a few buttons undone. He stares at the pages in front of him, his expression a mixture of exhaustion and determination. You glance over at him, hoping for a breakthrough.

“Any ideas?” you ask, your voice tinged with a hint of desperation.

Viktor groans and rubs his eyes, his shoulders sagging. “You know what… I think I’m getting old too,” he mutters, dropping his hand to your lap. “Can we get back to it when I’ve had at least two hours of sleep?”

He looks at you, his hand settling on your knee absentmindedly, his fingers warm through the fabric of your clothes. You stare at his hand for a moment, before looking up at him. He seems so tired, but also so… beautiful. His rumpled clothes and tousled hair remind you of the boy you loved.

“Sure,” you say quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. You look at him, really look at him. He’s always been handsome, but tonight you can finally see how much time has passed. The wrinkles carving his face deeper, jaw stronger, singular grey strands shining through the chestnut hair. Eyes the same. He doesn’t look like a boy anymore.

Wordlessly, you move closer to him and his gaze doesn’t falter. You cup his cheeks and brush your thumb over his lip. And then, your mouth comes close to his, into a soft brush, trembling and tentative. And Viktor responds with a hand sliding up your thigh and a tilt of his head. He cranes his neck and closes the little distance left between you with a sigh of relief.

His free hand slides up to your neck, pulling you in as his mouth parts and tongue joins to wrestle with yours. He gasps when you bite his lower lip and hums, as his palm slides behind to cup your ass. Fully in his grasp, he press yourself more onto him, fingers tangling into his hair, coaxing small sounds out of his throat. It’s wet and slow and when you peek through your eyelashes his brows are scrunched and a blush blooms down his neck to his chest.

He doesn’t kiss like a boy anymore, you think to yourself. It comes unbidden and warms your insides up.

The taste of him lingers on your lips as you pull away just a fraction, your breaths mingling. You barely have a moment to think before Viktor kisses you back, deeply, hoarse inhale taken straight from your lungs leaves you dizzy.

***

Viktor had walked you back to your dorm after a late-night study session at the library. His pace was slow, almost reluctant, as if he was trying to figure out what to say before you parted ways. You were too tired to wait for him to find the words, your mind still foggy from hours of studying.

“I guess this is goodn—” you started, but before you could finish the word, his lips were on yours. The kiss came out of nowhere, abrupt and clumsy, pressing you back into the door behind you. For a moment, you froze, your tired mind scrambling to catch up with what was happening.

Then, the realization sank in, and the sound that left your lips transformed from startled surprise to a soft moan. You responded without thinking, hands sliding up Viktor's sides, feeling the warmth of his body as you kissed him back.

He dropped his cane, his arms wrapping around you, pulling you closer. His touch was urgent, hands cradling your back and drawing you in as you ran your fingers through his hair. Feeling your response, he grew bolder, shut his eyes and concentrated on drawing deep breaths through his nose to not have to part from you.

Hands everywhere, as if he couldn’t decide what to do. You nearly laughed when she squeezed your butt quickly, only to go back to your waist, slide into your ribs and then to the small of your back. So feverish.

When the oxygen run out, he broke the kiss but still kept you close. “I wanted to do this for the longest time,” he chuckled into your mouth.

***

He gives himself a good-willed push off the couch’s armrest but ends up trapping your hip beneath his. His face scrunches in worry when you hiss, but the sound quickly transforms into a laugh. When your stomach shakes beneath him, Viktor feels a strange swelling in his chest. This is so familiar.

He looks at you longingly, sliding his fingers into your hair. Your laughter dies into a moan when his groin presses between your legs. His tongue grows more eager now, as if he remembers just how much he used to want you. “Fuck, I’ve missed you,” he breathes against your lips, and you respond by fisting his shirt, nearly tearing it. You try to say you’ve missed him too—fuck, how much you’ve missed him every day—but you can’t, because your mouth is full.

You brace yourself on your elbows, meeting him halfway. You’re not sure you can bear to part long enough for him to take your clothes off, so instead, you take his hands and press them to your ass. He accepts, of course, kneading your flesh in rhythm with his breath.

When you finally straddle him, your fingers move to undo the rest of his shirt. That’s when he stills. His palms come up to wrap around yours, and a quiet plea escapes him. “Wait,” he says weakly, his cock already hard—you’re sure this costs him a lot.

“Whatever for?” you ask, nosing at his face before pressing kisses to his cheeks, his closed eyelids. You untangle your fingers from his and wrap your arms around his neck.

“I should show you something first,” he murmurs, and begins to undo his shirt. You lean back to give him space to sit up, but your hips never leave his, and your eyes never look away from his face. You give him the room he needs, and feel unbearably not close enough.

***

You fought with the doorknob to your bedroom for a hot minute. Viktor, being very distracting, had completely derailed your brain from this simple dexterity task with continuous neck-licking and ear-kissing. He kept smirking against your skin, all cocky and pleased with himself, ever since the moment you’d asked, “Do you want to come in?”

You stumbled into the room together, and his fingers immediately shot to your vest. You hadn’t even blinked properly before it was undone, his hands cupping your breasts through your shirt, his cane hooked over his forearm.

Laughing and snorting at his clumsiness, you’d steadied him by the waist and let him walk you backward toward the bed.

Your hands fumbled at the buttons of his shirt, but they were small and stubborn, and you were too impatient. With a frustrated huff, you abandoned the effort and slid your hands over his shoulders instead. “Arms up,” you ordered, and Viktor chuckled as he complied.

He lifted his arms obediently, but as you dragged his shirt over his head, it caught for a moment, tangling around his face. He let out a muffled laugh, flailing slightly as you tugged it free, and the moment he was loose, he lost his balance. He tumbled backward onto the bed with an oof, propping himself up on his elbows as he grinned up at you.

You stepped between his legs, watching as his expression softened, turning almost reverent. His hands found your waist, fingers brushing deliberately over the fabric of your skirt before he slid it down, letting it pool at your feet. His lips followed the motion, pressing a slow, open-mouthed kiss to your stomach before he rested his chin there, gazing up at you.

He cradled your hips, thumbs stroking lazily over your skin. “Are you sure this is what you want?” he asked, his voice quiet, careful.

You nodded, eager, and leaned down to kiss him, pouring every answer he could ever need into the press of your lips.

***

“There is both more and less to me than there used to be,” Viktor says, rubbing slow, thoughtful circles up and down your thighs. His expression is pensive, and an apology lingers somewhere in his voice. You hate that he feels the need to apologise in the first place.

Your touch slides across his chest, down—down the leather ridges of a brace you’ve never seen before. It screams Jayce Talis with every bolt, every stitch, and your heart aches at the thought that you weren’t here when this was happening.

Your eyes dart between his chest and his lips before you finally nestle deeper against his pelvis, wrap your arms back around his neck, and crush your mouth to his in a kiss that weeps remorse. “You beautiful, beautiful man,” you whisper, pressing your face into his. “How are you so brave?”

You cup his cheeks, and he only smiles, covering your palm with his.

“I’m not brave. I just… survived,” Viktor says with a small shrug. Then, after a pause: “Would you like to help me take them off?”

You nod, eager, and lean down to kiss him, pouring all the fragmented pieces of yes into the press of your lips.

***

Viktor rolled with you across the sheets, his hands skimmed up your sides, warm and eager, fingers pressing into your skin like he was trying to memorise the feel of you. Your mouths met again, lips parting, tongues teasing—lazy and deep, now that you had each other finally.

He pulled you closer, your thighs bracketing his hips, and when you reached down, fingers curling into the waistband of his trousers, he let out a shaky breath. You grinned against his mouth, tugging them lower inch by inch, letting your nails drag over his skin just to hear the quiet little sounds he made in response. Finally, with one last playful yank, you pulled them off entirely, giggling when they got caught at his ankles for a moment before slipping free.

And then you saw it—his brace.

Viktor stiffened immediately. His hands twitched at his sides, and he turned his head slightly, as if he wanted to look anywhere but at you. "It’s nothing," he muttered, voice quieter than before. "You don’t have to—"

You reached out, your palm settling gently on his leg. "Viktor," you said softly, your touch firm but tender. His gaze flicked back to yours, guarded, unsure. "You are so beautiful."

He gasped, a sound so quiet you might not have caught it if you weren’t so close. His lips parted slightly, eyes searching yours like he wasn’t sure if he’d heard you right.

You didn’t give him time to argue. Instead, you leaned down, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss to his thigh, just above the brace. He shivered beneath you. Carefully, you undid the clasps, your fingers working with quiet reverence, peeling away the brace as if unveiling something sacred.

It left behind faint indentations in his skin—lines and ridges pressed deep from the whole day of wear. You kissed each one, your lips trailing over the marks with the same care you’d give any other part of him. Viktor’s breath hitched, his fingers threading into the sheets, gripping tight.

For a long moment, he said nothing. Then, barely above a whisper, he breathed, "You undo me."

***

You set the last metal part of Viktor aside, and now, finally—after years of longing—you see him. His legs are parted, eternal bruises marking his thigh and knee, the toes of one foot cramped closer together than the other. His ribs bear pearly little scars where the chest brace has caught against his skin.

His cock rests idly in the crease of his thigh, beautiful as ever—pink at the tip, his navel scattered with curly hair that meets in a neat line just below his belly button. His hips are sharp angles, his belly rising and falling with each breath. You take in this adult man’s body and compare it to the boy you fell in love with. And you are sure now—there is only more to him than there used to be.

You step between his legs, and his arms reach out, fingers tracing a scar on your lower abdomen. He hums, “This is new.”

“You should see the other guy,” you murmur playfully. “A machine malfunctioned at the lab. One of the energy conductors went unstable, and before I could shut it down, a piece of metal sliced me open.” You pause, watching his face tense. “I got lucky.”

Viktor brushes his thumb over the scar tissue before lowering his lips, pressing a kiss to it—slow, reverent. “My brave girl,” he mutters against your skin. Your head lulls back on your shoulders, fingers threading into his hair and you let out a sigh.

You shudder when he presses a delicate touch between your legs. His hand, more calloused than you remember, gathers the curve of your inner thigh—but oh, his fingers still feel the same. The same timid swipe across your core, the same quiet hum of approval at the wetness you've gathered for him. Then, his free arm comes to wrap around your hips, pulling you closer as he presses his ear to your belly and slides two fingers inside you.

More skill, you notice. A pang of jealousy coils in your chest—ugly, unnecessary—but you don’t let him see. He kisses your stomach, and his eyelashes tickle your skin as he moves his hand up and down and his fingers hit the spot that has you moaning out his name. “As tight as I remember,” he hums, and it lances through you how infinitely hotter he has become.

You tug at his hair to make him look at you. Two gold gems drill right through you when you say, “Viktor.” A sigh, then, “I think I really need to fuck you now.”

He smiles sweetly and kisses your stomach again. “Then it seems we are on the same page.”

***

After a lot of fumbling, adjusting, and whispered curses, you finally found what worked. Viktor propped his knee up with a pillow, his other leg hooked under yours, grounding you together. His weight pressed you into the mattress—not crushing, just enough to make you feel him everywhere, warm and steady.

He rolled his hips into you, slow and measured, his arm caging you in as he kissed you through it. The heat of his breath spilled over your mouth, his lips parting just enough to let out the quietest of moans. And even in the haze of pleasure, you could see it—the determination tightening his brow, the concentrated press of his mouth against yours. He was on a mission, and that mission was you.

One arm wound snugly around your neck, cradling you into him, while his other hand worked between your legs, fingers slick and diligent. He timed each stroke with the snap of his hips, coaxing you closer, closer—

“Oh—Viktor—”

The sound of your voice shattered something in him. His rhythm stuttered, his forehead dropped to yours, but his fingers didn’t stop, circling, pressing, working you toward your peak. You dug your nails into his back, rocking up to meet him, and then—

It rushed over you like a cresting wave. Your thighs tensed around his waist, your breath caught, and the pleasure crested so high it stole all thought. He moaned softly, watching, feeling every pulse of your release around him.

His movements became less controlled, needier, a touch more frantic. He groaned against your shoulder, muttered something in a language you barely caught, and then followed you over the edge. His body trembled against yours, hips stuttering, breath shaky as he spilled into you, his lips still parted against your skin.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. The only sounds in the room were your slowing breaths, the faint creak of the mattress, and the heartbeat pounding in your ears.

Then, Viktor finally lifted his head, flushed, sweat-dampened curls clinging to his forehead. He swallowed hard, his expression abashed but glowing with something warm and dazed.

“I hope that at this point, it is merely a formality,” he said, still breathless. “But… may I be so bold as to call you my girlfriend from now on?”

***

Your hips slot back together as if no time has passed. He fills you the same way, stretches you perfectly, and the expression he makes as he sinks in—God, it’s the same. Crushingly fucking gorgeous. Relief and bliss war on his face, his lips parting around a shaky groan as his hands seize your ass, pulling you down fully with a sharp slap of skin against skin.

He nuzzles into your neck, breath heavy and warm, licks up the column of your throat before sinking his teeth into your tendon. You gasp, moan, and pull at his hair, and the low, satisfied hum he gives in response shoots straight through you. His grip on your hips tightens, thumbs pressing into your skin as he guides you into motion, dragging you up before urging you back down. A faint roll of his own hips meets yours with every descent, his restraint slipping as the pleasure builds.

It doesn’t take long for you to notice—he’s changed. There’s more confidence in the way he moves, the way he takes from you, the way he talks to you. His voice is deeper, richer, words curling into your skin like smoke.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, dark and approving. He drags a hand up your spine, settles it at your nape, tilting your head so you do look—so you watch the way he devours you with his eyes. “You take me so well, lásko.”

Heat spreads down to your toes. You try to bite back a whimper, but he sees it, hears it, and smirks. Smirks, like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you.

Oh, he’s so much bolder now. And you’re falling apart because of it.

It starts with the way he tilts his hips just right, the way his grip on you tightens like he knows exactly where you need him. His free hand glides down your spine, tracing sweat-slick skin before slipping between your bodies. Two fingers find your clit, and your breath stutters. He circles once, twice—slow and deliberate—before pressing down, firm and unrelenting.

“Come for me,” he murmurs, voice like silk, like sin. He rewards you with a deep thrust, dragging a broken moan from your throat. “Let me feel you.”

You do—oh, God, you do. Pleasure overtakes you, crashing through your body in waves, pulling you under. Your thighs shake around him, your hands fly to his shoulders, nails sinking into muscle as you arch and shudder and keen his name. He groans, eyes dark and reverent as he watches you unravel in his lap.

Yet still, there are things that haven’t changed. The way his breath hitches when you clench around him. The way his moans turn desperate when you lean forward and suck at his throat. The way he starts to chase the pleasure once he gets close, gripping you tighter, rutting up into you with a fervour that makes your head spin.

And the way he comes—the same shudder, the same deep, gasping moan, the same way his arms crush you against his chest as if he could pull you inside him. His release spills deep, his body trembling beneath yours, and you realise it then, as you always have.

He is grateful for this. For you.

Your noses brush as he catches his breath, and his hands smooth over your back, grounding himself in the feel of you.

“Still with me?” you murmur, running your fingers through his damp curls.

Viktor exhales a breathless laugh, lids heavy, lips parted in something like awe. He nods, shifting just enough to press a lingering kiss to your collarbone. “Always.”

[bnyf]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ#1 crush ♡

╭﹕୨୧﹒yandere male elf x female human reader ♡

┊ warnings : yandere content and themes, unhealthy behaviors, relationship and relationship dynamic, sexual content, noncon, kidnapping, size difference, strange dynamic.

╰﹕୨୧﹒authoress note : after receiving some unwanted but much needed criticism i've tried my hand at writing a little better and fixing errors. i apologize in advance if there's any errors or gaps in my writing, i also apologize for the messed up story that this is. ik some people don't like the way i write the reader but like??? idgaf sorry anyways other than that, i hope you guys enjoy, please read the warnings and proceed with caution <3 i would also like to say that this post is kinda inspired by a very popular yandere artist on here with a male elf oc

what a treacherous fate had befallen on a vitreous soul such as yourself.

it truly is unfortunate, you're so unlucky. how could your luck have run so low? to think, this everyday mundane routine would now be your nightmarish reality was stomach wrenching. you never did anything to deserve this, this was simply some sort of faulty by the gods, right? there's no way this is your horrible ending. no way.

you sobbed and yet... he hummed and chastised you by smacking your puffy clitorous.

it's always like this, it's been like this for...? a while now apparently. you've completely lost track of time. maybe a month or so if you're playing the guessing game.

well, if it wasn't obvious already, you've been taken hostage by an insane elven prince. probably the most insanely angelic, good-looking, prettiest and sick minded male you've ever met.

he really needs professional help. something that he can more than afford considering his house is almost made of gold, his herculean physique adored and draped only with the most expensive clothes, jewels, silks, soaps and scented creams and perfumes. his perfume, so extravagant, worth more than your vital organs all put together. that was the part you admired about elven people, they are so intelligent, so ahead of humans.

but to him? therapy is cheap and free! you're the first ever human he's laid eyes on and that's all he really needs. and really, you're the one to blame for his actions. it's all you. so you should take responsibility, right?

he's sought out humans before, trying to break the barrier between the two worlds and connect with them. he was damn near obsessed with coming into contact with the human realm and ruling over them like a god despite the fact that any sort of magic that threatens to break the barrier and connect the realms or offer passage through the two realms is absolutely forbidden. this is such a serious offense that if caught violating, can lead to public execution.

but your little caregiver did not! give one flying hoot at all, nor did the rules really even apply to royals as the royals participated in a lot of magical corruption and kept it all on the low.

so what a surprise! not really that he'd succeed in his conquest. not entirely since he'd only manage to bring one human to the elven realm, but now he knows for sure he's making great progress. and not only succeed in getting a nitty gritty palms on any human, but such a cute little human female like yourself.

humans are a lot more fragile, smaller, weaker, lesser intelligent beings, almost like a sub species from elves. so that's why you must be taken care of with so much extra love and attentiveness. all this was his reasoning for treating you like a minor being, enabling you and excuses for his weird kinks.

there was no way you'd ever dream of over powering him, not when a large veiny arm wrapped so tightly around your wrists, holding it behind your back, and the other with it's slender long digits effortlessly reaching your g spot.

it was 'bath time' or whatever, which called for a thorough inspection and cleanse. or just another excuse to use your body to his likings.

his tongue lap at your folds and clit, moaning in delight and relishing in all your juices spraying him. his voice muffled by your pussy, making wet sounds as he attempts to praise your gorgeous body: all of which sounds like incohesive unhinged, obsessive rambling of course.

if you ignore this scene and focus on other small things around you maybe you can, somewhat imagine yourself having a luxurious warm bath in the tub, with flowers and scented stuff in the water, scented candles creating a relaxing atmosphere, marvelous one-sided glass view... maybe not the one-sided glass view that's actually a little too scary to think about but yeah, you're having a nice little bath.

the most relaxing bath in the most prettiest and pearliest tiled bathroom you've ever been in.

your insides contorts though and you find yourself coming again undone on those perfectly manicured fingers of his, messing up his perfect face with your essence. your voice is loud and echoes throughout the bathroom, all the way into the bedroom and closet but never enough to each anyone's ears as he's casted multiple protective barrier spells to keep your presence unknown from other elven people. you've came like 5 times already and he won't let you rest, getting high off your pussy juices.

"poor baby, you look so tired, shhh don't worry~ mama will take care of everything, just relax and be good for me, okay? it'll all be over soon, my darling ^ mama will get you all cleaned up and dressed, right after this..." you wish you had the energy to welp out an 'ewwwwww da fuck?!' right about now but you were so weak and constantly sedated. you felt helpless as his bulbous tip hits your pussy, rubbing it back and forth to coat and lubricate himself with your juices. he leisurely teases, making your hole spasm and grasp around nothing, your body reacting in a lovely manner to his advances.

he licks his lips, only putting the tip in before quickly pulling back out. taking his time cause he wants to drive you insane like him. and luckily for him, his mind games always work so well.

his precum leaking and smearing you in the process as he rubs his whole length, measuring your pelvic area with his cock length and soon putting it in to see how far it'll actually go.

you almost blacked out. even though he prepped you well for this it still stings, he's just too big. and you? way too tight, squeezing him like you want every last drop of his seed, has him shivering and grunting in the process.

"fck- you're so tight, baby ngh~"

has him seeing stars and by the time he's balls deep in you and hitting the tip of your womb, you're a drooling and moaning mess. can't even control his obsessive thoughts from spilling out his mouth, he immediately gets to work on those hips too like a wild animal, only sparing a few seconds to sloppily kiss you and slap your thick behind.

it only takes a few minutes before he breaks his load inside you and shifts you into another position, manhandling you and roughing you up like a meat toilet, all for his own enjoyment and pleasure.

his long silky hair tickling your skin. when you think about it, he's so masculine with many feminine traits too, like the perfect balance actually and it is to be expected from an elf. he always wants to be in control, always wants to take care of you like a god watching over his creation. it sorta overlaps with him calling himself your mama but it makes sense in a way. he doesn't see himself as a woman in any sort of way, he just wants unrestricted authority over you.

your tears stream down your cheeks which he licks away and kisses, it only hurts your head trying to rationalize this or even understand it, your vision goes all blurry and for the next few rounds, your in and out of consciousness while being filled.

when you're awake again, you're draped in silk half naked and powdered up, you feel your caretakers strong arms wrapped around you, spooning you as rubs circles into your skin. he's also half naked with nothing but a cloth draped around himself. you both lay on a soft layered bed with many squishy pillows and blankies. fruits, steam veggies and grilled meat laid out on a silver tray for you to enjoy, though your stomach was filled with his cum.

[ryuutchi]

I've never been able to properly phrase it, but I think one of the reasons people flinch at the idea of Jews as indigenous to the Levant is that we're one of the few examples of what happens if "land back" fails as a movement and an indigenous group is forced to survive as a global community off their native lands for a significant period.

We're a fucking nightmare because if you look at our history from the beginning of the galut-- if you don't get your land back in the first century or two while the world moves on and creates new countries-- you become simultaneously an invader and an abject figure who will never be given right of self-determination. There have been at least four waves of colonization in the area that is currently Israel since the churban-- if indigeneity is about relation to power, people who are now "indigenous" are only so because the previous colonizers were colonized. And that requires one to consider what returning land means on a practical level, whether it is achievable, and what the power dynamics of such a thing would look like.

That part was not in the Jose Martinez Cobo definition of indigenous peoples.

Ironically the reason it was add was to prevent indigenous people from achieving self determination.

“Most Israelis are colonizers”- Jews are a single ethnic group either we are all indigenous or we are all colonizers.

[thepalladium1]

UPDATE REGARDING THE LEGENDSWAP STORY

okay so . hello folks, specifically those who have followed me specifically for the legendswap comics! big announcement that may be disappointing to hear, but;

i will be discontinuing the comics where luminous cream and the trio explore beast-yeast.

before you all freak out, i swear i have my reasonings, AND a better solution! my reasons are that i started legendswap as an au that i didn't put much thought into, and when i made the comics, it also sort of followed this process. my point being, legendswap doesn't have a fleshed out storyline, only bits and bobs of various ideas floating around in a less-than-coherent jumble. following this, i've been thinking harder about where the comic's leading, and this made me realize that there's bound to be plotholes that i can't rework without retconning the already released pages. (e.g, since silent salt replaces white lily, how would i integrate him into the story this early on? what is white lily and dark enchantress(aka crescent faerie)'s ties to one another? how are the other ancients doing? what was the reason for luminous cream deciding to bring along the Trio on his trip to beast-yeast, considering they are just kids? etc etc, i could go on cause ive been thinking and yeah, it's just too much for me to reintegrate into the story as of now)

anyways, my solution! i polled recently as to whether i should make a legendswap ask blog or if it was simply unnecessary, and you guys have voted for yes! so that's what i will be doing to flesh out this au; i'll be making a part ask blog, part comic series where you can either ask me or the cookies directly questions that will, in turn, progress the plot and let you find out directly about the world itself :) im already working on getting the ask blog ready, and i hope to be able to have it out by tomorrow at the latest. (currently im just working on a banner, and... something else, but the latter is not important)

so! what does this mean for the comics so far? this means that, for now, they are no longer canon and should not be interpreted as such. you can see it as a short look into what i've planned for the dynamic between the cookies shown so far, though, as their personalities are still going to be depicted that way! im sorry to disappoint you all, i really am, but since im no longer flying in blind and have an idea for what i want for the au, i do think that this ask blog would work much better than a chronological order comic. (plus, it means you can see and interact with your favorite cookies sooner rather than having to wait months on end just to see them :) ) (the prologue is still accurate to what i have planned, though, so that can still be interpreted as canon)

i understand how disappointing this sounds, but this is genuinely what i feel is best to expand on the au moving forward. thank you all very much for your support for the au so far, and i hope to continue to make more legendswap content for you all for a long while!

- thepalladium

[lucifers-room]

Do you actually hate women? Like honestly? I know kinks are just kinks blah blah, but there's no way you can think this and also look at a women and have genuine respect for her.

I fear there is no difference to you and an actual non 'kink' based rapist. I know the women involved consent, but you think like an actual psycho.

I'm not hating, honest, just genuinely, there's no way.

I'll try and take it as a genuine question.

The answer is yes absolutely. I've grown up with lots of women, I've been to engineering school with brilliant women, I work alongside brilliant academics that are women and even in my personal relationships (outside of sex) all my partners have been for the most part people I've respected.

So I guess the question is how can I have this perspective on women but in a kink context want to hurt, degrade and use them?

The answer is multifactorial:

- kinks are fun & so are power dynamics. When a woman is (consensually) being submissive, she's basically saying I trust that you (me) that I will take the fantasy to the farthest extreme while in reality keeping her safe physically & emotionally. Her giving that power up is incredibly hot.

- part of is very much psychological (maybe genetics) but I just really enjoy dominating her. Maybe it's part of the competitive part of me but the conflict or fight, followed by overcoming her with my power is incredibly hot and it's why power dynamics are a kink.

- the last part is that I really don't think about sex or kinks unless I'm horny. If I'm just hanging with my girl then we're just having fun enjoying each other's company.

[electricneonvalkyrie]

Manny doesn't just care about Abby the way comrades do. He cares about her as a person.

Despite the turbulence of Abby being lost, hurt and absolutely running herself into the ground, he sees her. He meets her there.

And he also knows she's too damn stubborn for her own good, but that, my friends, is the price of unconditional loyalty.

Manny is one of the few people in Abby's life who isn't constantly demanding something from her.

He doesn't always agree with her choices, but he's willing to walk through the fire by her side. Once you understand this, it really opens up the depth of Manny’s character and their friendship.

It goes both ways, as you’ll experience later on during the sniper conflict.

If you play the game and really sit in this scene, and this entire section of her storyline, really... I think it’s worthwhile to pay close attention to the things neither of them dares to say. It’s rather incredible, actually.

In rare form for Abby, their silence isn’t based on miscommunication and unresolved tension.

The unspoken concerns are felt and acknowledged.

They simply don’t need to go there. They accept each other without pretense, even when it sucks.

That level of trust rarely requires words. Manny knows how Abby's mind works and how her heart refuses to let go. He's seen it time and again. When she decides something, there's no shaking her from it.

Is it because they are cut from the same cloth?

Here's the thing most people miss about this part.

Manny says:

"I’m coming with you."

He absolutely would’ve done so. But reluctantly, he stays behind, because it's his duty, and because it's strategy. But there's more to it. Sure, he's her alibi with their leader, holding things down at the base, but he's also looking out for the bigger picture.

Manny is a protector, too.

He's consistently been Abby's rock, always there to pull her back from the edge, even when she resists the help. Manny balances respecting her decisions with his affection for her, and he does it without fear of calling her out.

He challenges Abby but he doesn't withdraw affection from her when the outcome doesn't fit his vision. One of my favourite aspects of their relationship.

I'm willing to bet that sending her out there alone goes against everything Manny's instincts are screaming at him. If you notice the tidbits the other WLF characters mention after the fact, this point is emphasized.

Manny is worried sick while she’s gone.

It's my interpretation that his genuine concern and connection with Abby plays a major role in his tone here.

Normally, he'd suit up and follow her straight into battle. Fuck Isaac, fuck their obligations.

But he can't.

Maybe he fears this will be her undoing. Maybe he also worries that if he joins her, they won't have a home to come back to, and they've both already been through that devastating loss.

And then Abby says:

"I've done this before."

And okay, she's got to be the most stubborn, blindly determined girl in existence. But there’s a reason for it.

Abby has this internalized idea that she can handle things on her own because she has, for the most part, always done so. Many people have come to expect this level of independence from her. Looking at you mother freaking Isaac.

Manny’s rebuttal?

"Not with this many Scars in the area."

Well, there might as well be an exclamation mark at the end of this one. Manny's immediate concern has never been whether Abby is capable.

He knows she is.

But he's just being realistic, which is something Abby often struggles with when faced with her heavy emotions. Manny is looking at the overall risk here. He isn't dismissive and frustrated.

He's scared for her.

"Manny, please."

That shift in her voice. What I think she's really saying here?

Manny, I need you to understand.

"Alright. You know best."

You could interpret this as sarcasm, and I think if you play the game without caring much about the tone or their dynamic, it's easy enough to do.

That's not what I hear.

Manny doesn't lecture her further or fight her on this because he trusts her. That type of love comes from knowing someone so deeply that even when you don't agree with them, you stand by them anyway.

I would kill to see someone break down Manny's inner conflict throughout the larger scene. There's so much to observe and yet most of what we seem to get is a bunch of bullshit about how the WLF crew has no personality.

Perhaps the issue isn't the WLF crew.

There is depth to Abby and her friends. You don't have to look that hard to find it.

You’re allowed to want things for the people you care about, even if they ultimately choose a different path—and you? You can still choose to support them through it.

[blessedgirthma]

How I would take the relationship between Batman and the Joker

This is just something that I've had in my veins for a while now and needed to get it out there so I wouldn't go CRAZY.

Howdy Doody!~

For a long time, I've been trying to figure out what would be an interesting direction for Batman and the Joker's relationship. One of the directions that I like the most is for Batman to finally kill the Joker.

Now, I know DC would never go for this because the Joker is one of their main cash cows. But I think what it could end up being is a spiritual successor to Knightfall. Where instead of Batman being broken physically and partially mentally, I think his killing the Joker would break him spiritually and shake him to his very core regarding why he became a hero in the first place.

There are countless ways that it could go down. But if I were to write the story, I think I would have the Joker trap Batman in some sort of labyrinth underground where he's completely cut off from the rest of the family. Joker would obviously put Batman through the wringer, torturing him and forcing him to go through deadly trials and tribulations. Overall, standard stuff when it comes to both of them. However, while Batman is trapped, the Joker plays him videos and footage of Gotham being destroyed, forcing Batman to watch as he destroys his city, kills his family, and ruins everything while he's still trapped.

It pushes Batman to his breaking point as he sees countless people being murdered, butchered, and torn apart. And it's all to the sound of Joker's constant mocking as he blames Batman for everything since he never decided to finish things and just kill him. At the same time, he's also throwing him through death trap after death trap before Batman finally gets to him.

From there, it's the standard beat down. However, this time, it's different. It isn't Batman fighting the Joker anymore; it's the man, Bruce Wayne, who's beating the clown prince of crime to death. And in a moment of pure and utter hate on Bruce's part, he finally does it. He kills the Joker. For me personally, I never see him doing it with a gun since he's so opposed to guns. But when he does it, Bruce finally manages to escape, only to find that Gotham is fine.

Turns out that all the footage he showed Batman was fake and that the Joker finally managed to get Batman to kill him without even having to kill anyone.

From there, word began to spread rather quickly that Batman killed the Joker, and it completely changed the dynamic between Batman and his villains. They're all now more cautious around him since it's been proven that if pushed far enough, Batman IS capable of killing. But for the most part, the entire world celebrates along with most of the hero community. However, for Batman himself, he hates it, he hates it all.

He hates that he's being celebrated for breaking his one rule. He hates that he's now one of the world's most beloved heroes for finally killing the Joker. He hates how no government or law enforcement official wants to bring him in. Most of all, he hates how good he feels afterward, like he can finally breathe easy and not have to worry about the clown prince of crime. And so, for a time, he hangs up his cowl and retires. He sees himself as tainted after taking a life, even if that life was the Joker's. But through his support system, people like Superman, Nightwing, and even Jason help Batman see that he can still be a hero even if he broke his one and only rule.

It takes time, of course. When he puts the cowl back on, he drifts between being too brutal and being too soft. He's scared that he'll end up killing again since he's done it once before, but at the same time, he doesn't want another Joker. But after a while, he finds his right footing and becomes a brighter hero. Not on the same level as someone like Superman or Nightwing, but for the first time in almost 30 years of crime fighting, he has hope that his mission will finally come to an end.

From here, he fights other villains, with perhaps someone like Bane stepping up to the mantle to become Batman's greatest foe now that Joker is out of the way. But for the most part, things return to some form of normalcy. Even then, the death of the Joker still weighs heavily on Batman's mind, but not as much as before.

But life goes on. Villains come and go. Gotham sees destruction come its way time and time again. However, one day, via some villain, whether it'd be in a Justice League book or a Batman title, Batman ends up in Hell. And who's there to greet him at those Hellish gates? Well, it's none other than the Joker.

Turns out that, after everything the Joker had done throughout his time as a villain, he's earned himself a special spot in the underworld as one of, if not THE most evil human being out there.

But for Batman, he now has to traverse Hell and find a way out while Joker tags along and tries to make his journey all the more painful as he taunts him about the fact that he finally managed to make him break his one rule. By the end of it all, Batman manages to escape Hell after managing to trick the Devil himself. In response, the Devil then revives the Joker as a demon whose sole purpose is to torment Batman.

However, unlike before, the Joker can't die since he'll just be resurrected, thanks to the Devil. This allows Batman to be more brutal than ever with the Joker; whether it'd be chopping him up into tiny pieces or burying him alive on the moon, there really isn't a limit to what Batman will do. But every once in a while, the Joker comes back, and Batman has to stop him once again. Although, thanks to the Joker now being part demon, he's able to pull more tricks that push Batman further than ever before.

Just off the top of my head, I see Joker maybe possessing people Batman cares about, creating new strains of Joker toxin that transform people into horrifying laughing monsters, and maybe even shapeshifting into new forms so that he can become an ally to Batman, only to stab him in the back.

To add onto this, Batman would ONLY get that brutal with the Joker since he can now take it.

I don't know if any of this makes sense or if it's any good. If anything, at the very least, I think it'd make a good Elseworld story, but beyond that, I'll leave it up to you.

[spotinthespiral]

Shout-out to Marcus, one of my many ocs with horrible tastes in men 👍

Quick cut just to lore-dump a bit (skip this if ya want).

Marcus got to Ravenwood, calamity happened, Blueflower ran off to solve it. Marcus met Nolan while exploring Cyclops Lane and immediately clocked him as a pirate (cuz his bestie Griffin was a pirate) but said nothing.

Marcus stuck around and managed to befriend Nolan after a *lot* of struggle, but they got super close. Nolan was cocky and rarely did any actual work, but Marcus was willing to help him improve one step at a time, which worked to make them all the more connected. Nolan associated his forward progress with Marcus, and therefore Marcus was a valuable pawn.

Then Marcus suddenly wasn't a pawn, and in the most neurodivergent way possible, Nolan confessed a crush to Marcus. Marcus (who'd had a crush 0.2 seconds into hearing Nolan be obnoxious) returned the sentiment, and in my headcanon lil universe they're a pair.

Marcus is a beloved little pastel goth, and Nolan is still the most hated student on campus, but they're working on their shortcomings together.

[demaparbat-hp]

Zutara makes a statement.

[vaguely-concerned]

in his and davrin's banters, lucanis exhibits a certain little shit energy I don't think we see him have with anyone else other than illario and honestly I am living for this

[mostlyvoid-partiallyflowers]

The most recent episode of Interview with a Vampire let's us see Lestat's side of the story and see how it compares to Louis' accounting of their relationship. As a result, it reaffirms just how unreliable of a narrator Louis is, but it also further illuminates elements of his character that the director and writers have been playing with since the beginning of the show.

There's this part in the episode where Lestat turns to Louis and apologizes and it's framed with Lestat turned to Louis on one side and Claudia on his other side. They're the angel and devil on Louis' shoulders, but who is the angel and who is the devil? And as my friend said, Armand and Daniel are placed into that same dynamic with Louis later on. We are being asked to decide who to trust, who's telling the truth, who's the good guy, but the fact of unreliability robs us of that decision.

This whole story is about Louis, he's the protagonist, though not the narrator, and he is constantly being pulled in two directions, no matter when or where he is in his story. He's a mind split in two, divided by nature and circumstance. He's vampire and human, owner and owned, father and child, angel and devil. He's both telling the story and being told the story. His history is a story he tells himself, and as we've seen, sometimes that story is not whole.

Louis is the angel who saved Claudia from the fire but he's also the devil who sentenced her to an life of endless torment, the adult trapped in the body of a child. He's the angel who rescued Lestat from his grief and also the devil who abandoned him, who couldn't love him, could only kill and leave him.

He's pulled in two directions, internally and externally at all times and so it's no wonder that he feels the need to confess, first to the priest, then Daniel, and then Daniel again.

He's desperate to be heard, a Black man with power in Jim Crow America who's controlled by his position as someone with a seat at the table but one who will never be considered equal. He doesn't belong to the Black community or the white community, he can't. He acts as a go-between, a bridge, one who is pushed and pulled until he can't take it anymore. He's a fledgling child to an undead father, he's a young queer man discovering his sexual identity with an infinitely experienced partner. He's confessing because he wants to be absolved, that human part of him that was raised Catholic, that child who believed, he wants to be saved. He wants to be seen.

Louis wants to attain a forever life that is morally pure, but he can't. He's been soiled by sin, by "the devil," as he calls Lestat, and he can never be clean again. Deep down, I think he knows this, but he can't stop trying to repent. He tries to self-flagellate by staying with Lestat and then tries to repent by killing him, but can't actually follow through. He follows Claudia to Europe to try and assuage his guilt. He sets himself on fire, attempts to burn himself at the stake, to purify his body, rid himself of the dark gift.

Louis is a man endlessly trying to account for the pain he has caused and he ultimately fails, over and over again, because he can't get rid of what he is. A monster. He's an endlessly hungry monster. He's hungry for love, for respect, for power, for forgiveness, for death. He's a hole that can never be filled. He can never truly acquire any of those things because he will always be punishing himself for wanting and needing them in the first place. He will never truly believe he deserves them and as a result, can't accept them if they are ever offered. He can never be absolved for he has damned himself by accepting the dark gift and thus has tainted himself past the point of saving.

[skrunksthatwunk]

never have i ever with the in-laws

[zymogenn]

just to put it out there, au where neil and charlie are brothers and todd and knox are brothers. anderperry and knarlie happens. potential slow burn. one ship rooting and plotting for the other. little miscommunication here and there. happy ending.

would you guys be interested??

[hwnglx]

Please don’t take this as criticism because it’s not, but I miss when you did more personality and already existing relationship-based readings. I feel like a lot of your current readings are focused around what different male idols would want in a partner (probably cause it’s what your followers are requesting the most) but it feels like they’re asking just to satisfy their fantasy of being able to project onto one or two of those traits you list. I really like when you focus on the person you’re reading for and their energy, instead of what the requesters want. You have a great gift, just be careful not to expend too much energy on the people who want to use you for their delusions. Their draining energies will inevitably place their marks on the cards and in your mind

hi love. first of all, i genuinely value your opinion, thank you for voicing it so openly. especially because you're speaking about something i myself have been thinking these past few days.

i've definitely noticed my content heavily leaning in that specific direction, which is why i've been thinking about switching my upcoming readings up (not immediately doing another “dating x” post). though i also have to say, that it's pretty much the result of my doing, since i did specifically ask for you guys to send in questions about romantic topics.

having that said, i will be opening my kpop requests inbox very soon, which surely will lead to me having a bigger variety in requests, and therefore readings.

once again, thank you for your input, i'm not taking it as criticism, and on the contrary, appreciate the honesty and sincere concern.

i'm always open to hearing you guys out, if you have any thoughts on how i could improve my blog and make it more enjoyable for you ღ

[silusvesuius]

i legit love when a character's gender is so integral to their personality (and perception obviously.) like so concrete that if genderbent their whole shtick would just be absolute dookie. anyways i'm just writing this text so i can talk in the tags (My beautiful safe haven)

this 14 minute song is soooooooooooo FYRE

[byanyan]

it's a wholeass month after pride has already ended but i finally changed my icon