#like Czech (hello)

[ur-friendly-nbhd-cardassian]

Seriously, it's not so hard to find a Slavic person to consult when you're coming up with a Slavic character for any media. The number of inacuracies in that is astounding. As if we were an extinct nation and the only information about us was in inelligible scripture experts struggled to translate.

You don't have to pull stuff out of your ass. We are real people and we're not savages, either, we do have internet. Don't you wanna be the cool sort of Westerner, who knows how to present their Slavic character without making them wrong and cringe? Wouldn't it feel nice to know your audience appreciates your efforts instead of thinking you're an idiot?

Don't be an idiot.

[alpinelogy]

📘

Put "📓" or some other version of a book emoji into my inbox and I'll explain the plot of a fanfiction that I haven't written but daydream about.

Okay so funnily enough this was the ask where I was saying idk if it crossess a boundary or not but well... then my computer reset and I lost my answer asdfgh. For the record it was girl Pierresteban with a little bit of exploration of sexuality for the femslash fest. Considering its for a fest and I have been reminded that I am lowkey rotating a carcar wip in my head anyway that I need to yap about... (that being said I am always down to yap about that girl Pierresteban as well haha)

Anyway, carcar also known as Oscar and the wonders of learning a second (?) language below the cut :3c

For some quick context, its been a hot sec since I dated a Czech person (thank you years of international education and mostly being friends with international people even irl), and more often than not I have dated people whose first language was not one that I speak and even tho none of these relationships was particularly serious, the scenario of what if I end up with someone whose first language I dont speak is a very real possibility. The solution, to me at least, is obviously try and learn the language (I am also bad at learning languages but thats neither here or there)

So anyway, I project this onto a blorbo. Obviously. Carcar, vaguely established relationship but they started as a weird enemies fuckbuddies situationship in the quintessential carcar way and slowly morphed into something... softer, more serious, less angry hate sex fuck our frustrations away and more careful, comfortable, loving even. Still very quintessentially them but also with an undertone of I care about you and your comfort is the priority.

The thing is they've had this slightly less angry relationship going on for about a year but also they are still disasters and have not talked about it. So Oscar is pretty sure they have been together for a while but also have they? Hes realized he cares about Carlos somewhere along the lines and well... Carlos was the one that started the beef in Oscars opinion, so what if this is still just a way to relieve some steam in Carlos' eyes?

But its winter break and Oscar is bored and also maybe a little bit misses Carlos way more than he is willing to admit and somewhere along the lines he decides to learn Spanish. He will not take any questions at this point. Leaning Spanish also carries a certain amount of plausible deniability, its one of the most common languages in the world. Good for connecting with foreign fans or something if anyone asks.

This is roughly where I lose track of the plot for now. Tho this fic is less about the act of learning a new language and more about the intimacy of knowing someone's first language, how much of a person is hidden behind the translation from their first language into a second or even third language, and how learning their first language might just be one of the greatest and most intimate at the same time proclamations of love out there.

And yes, of course they do eventually talk and establish their relationship, and yes, it has stopped being a way to relieve frustration for Carlos months ago as well, obviously. Probably a slightly (very) sappy end, tho we dont talk about Oscars language skills. I can and I will project that part of myself onto him, the inability to learn a language.

[idontliketomatoesleavemealone]

Somehow accents are in almost all movies and the film makers still manage to fuck it up almost every time.

[zvdvdlvr]

Indisputably Difficult to Choose ✰ JayVik x Reader

✰. You’re Viktor and Jayce’s new roommate- a flirt and a damn good cook. Thankfully, you get along well with the two men! Maybe too well. Eventually, you can’t tell where the line between ‘just friends’ and ‘more than friends’ is.

✰. WC: 1.7k. Female reader. I have no idea if Vik is russian or Czech but most reddit posts say hes russian😭??? Friends to lovers trope. Miscommunication trope? Oh well! Sorry for any errors in the spanish or russian pet names- I definitely didn’t use google translate. . .

It wasn’t every day that you got roomed with both life-altering scientists. And yet, here you were, offering one of them a sly smile. “Hello.”

Jayce smiled right back at you easily and opened the door further. “Welcome home, stranger,” he greeted.

After adjusting the backpack hanging from your shoulders, you stepped into the room. “Good to see a handsome face whenever I arrive home,” you murmur absentmindedly as you examine the walls and floors. “Where’s my room?”

Jayce nodded towards the hallway. “Down there.”

Later that night you met Viktor. Tall, lean, devilishly handsome Viktor.

You were making yourself at home in the kitchen making pasta for dinner when he cleared his throat. Turning, you smiled at the man in front of you. “I hope you like tortellini, Viktor,” you said.

He hummed. “I’ll eat anything that isn’t cooked by Jayce.” Viktor hears an incredulous gasp from the other room and chuckles. “It smells good,” he says politely, stepping closer to the stove.

“I like to make a good impression.”

And by God, you do.

Almost two weeks later you finally find your rhythm. Wake up, get ready for class, go to class, go to the lab to help out the boys (because helping out world-changing scientists looks damn good on your resume), decide what to have for dinner, drag the boys home, go to sleep, repeat. A long and tiresome but rewarding list.

Five and a half months later and midterms were finally over! You were on break and had so much free time on your hands but didn’t feel like going in to work every day. So: you made your boredom the boys’ problem (though you knew they wouldn’t actually complain).

Today was one of the rare days you could convince Jayce and Viktor to stay home with you because there weren’t any classes and ‘why let your favorite roommate be all by her lonesome?’ It was easy to convince Jayce. When Jayce finally relented, the both of you turned to Viktor with hopeful smiles.

“As long as you make that beef stew for dinner,” Viktor finally grumbled. As he hobbled away dramatically, Jayce laughed as you whooped excitedly.

When you were done basking in glory, Jayce wrapped an arm around your shoulder. You would have bet your life savings that Jayce melted further into you when you wrapped your arm around his waist since you could not reach his shoulders. “Viktor wouldn’t actually say no to you anyway, doll,” Jayce said casually, flopping onto the couch and pull you with him.

Dynamics between the three of you were. . . perplexing. Viktor was a quietly independent person who bonded with you over food, riddles, and literature. When he had seen your Harlan Ellison novels, you swore you saw the metaphorical wall of defense behind his piercing amber eyes crumble. The first time Viktor sat on the counter and had an emotionally intelligent conversation with you (while you made chicken fajitas as per Jayce’s request) was the first time you heard Viktor truly laugh- a sound from deep in his throat that temporarily distracted you from the sizzling meat in front of you. After that, Viktor had warmed up to you enough to slide into the hug Jayce pulled you in when they returned from the lab.

Jayce had almost immediately clicked with you. His charmingly pathetic smile and himbo aura were captivating. Jayce had gasped allowed when you were still decorating your new room. “Oh my Jan- is that. . ?” He then started helping you tack up posters and other goodies you had to decorate your space while gushing about some of the bands, movies, and television programs you were interested. Jayce, you learned, had a soft spot for predicable romance and science fiction movies- though he often narrated errors in information while watching anything sci-fi. He was also very physically affectionate: pulling your legs into his lap during movie nights, gently moving you by the waist whenever he was in the kitchen, wrapping an arm around you while walking to the coffee shop, and an obscene amount of hugs. You thought it was a little odd at first, but he does it to Viktor too- and you couldn’t really judge because you flirted with them and called them nicknames. A lot. 

When dinner time finally rolled around, you had a pot of steaming vegetable stew on the stove. Three bowls and three spoon were all waiting to be used off to the side. Viktor had made a beeline to the kitchen the second ‘food’ left your mouth and by the time Jayce got up and you’d entered the kitchen, Viktor’s bowl had tears of broth rolling down the side as it pleaded for help. “Smells good, Солнышко,” he praised. 

“Thank you, darling scientist of mine,” you hummed, handing Jayce a bowl.

“Wha-“ Jayce spluttered behind you. “What about me? Have I not earned the title of your favorite darling scientist?”

Viktor snorted as he started the short trip to the dinner table.

You threw your head back in laughter, eyes closed. If you were watching the two bickering men boys, you would have seen Jayce’s mock hurt melt completely off his face as he watched you laugh happily before letting his eyes flicker over to Viktor; who was completely immersed with you (not the stew). You didn’t see Viktor looking up to Jayce with a certain look in his eyes and tilt his head all in the blink of an eye.

“I mean, Viktor did fix my console and the T.V. without me having to ask,” you say as your laughter fades. “I guess pretty boy over there has you beat.”

Jayce clicks his tongue, catching your eyes. “Then I’ll have to make it up to you, tu hermosa mujer,” he says with a low tone, the spark in his eyes that burns in his eyes when you usually flirt was absent. “Hm?”

You blink. Mouth open as your eyes frantically flicker between Jayce’s eyes and the unchanging smile on his face. “I- I guess so.”

Viktor coughs so loud you instinctively take a step back. “If you guys are continue kindling your blooming romance, I’d like to remind you that I am still here.”

You don’t look at Jayce as you blink out of the confused haze you found yourself in thirty seconds ago and start to the table. “Don’t be jealous, pretty boy,” you halfheartedly joke at Viktor.

“I’m not jealous,” Viktor says, watching you intently. “Because I know I could be better than Jayce at anything you wanted.”

“Is that right?”

Viktor raises and eyebrow at Jayce as he sits beside you in his normal spot. “Indisputably.”

“I don’t know what you guys are playing at,” you cut in finally, letting your spoon rest against the side of the half-finished soup. “But clearly there’s something I’m not understanding. This-“ you gesture from Jayce to you to Viktor “-is starting to confuse me. And I- I need you guys to figure it the fuck out because I can’t keep lov-“ you cut yourself off. Heaved a sigh before standing up and leaving with a mere ‘I need to think’.

“Y/n.” Jayce watches you grab your wallet and the coat nearest to the door- which happened to be Viktor’s- and ignore him. “Y/n, baby, please-“

You slam the door on the way out.

Viktor is standing up before Jayce can say anything. “Let’s go,” Viktor tells Jayce, shoving his arms into another one of his coats. “I don’t want her out during the dark.”

Jayce understands Viktor’s fear, knowing Viktor’s anxiety was multiplied tenfold by what he’d experienced and heard during his life in the Undercity. “Okay.”

Adrenaline and anxiety propelled Viktor forward into the night, rain soaking his useless coat. Jayce had your location pulled up on his cell and was confident that he and Viktor were close. “We’re almost there,” he told Viktor over the pattering rain.

“There! Is that-?”

“Y/n!” Jayce shouted, seeing the hooded figure halt for a second before you started walking faster.

“Куколка please wait,” Viktor called. “I cannot run after you- please just talk to us!”

You stopped. Turning, the pair could see your bloodshot eyes and wobbling lip.

“Oh, my Родная,” Viktor cooed, dropping his cane to wrap his arms around you and Jayce.

Jayce held you and Viktor upright, feeling his heart shatter when he felt you shaking in his arms- crying over something he did. “Y/n, mi amor, I’m so sorry,” he finally said. “We are sorry.”

Viktor leaned on Jayce as he went on. “Y/n, I think it’s safe to say that Jayce and I. . . our feelings for you, you see-“

“We’re in love with you,” Jayce blurts. “The cuddling, the cooking, the affection, the flirting-“

Viktor nods. “But we didn’t know how to tell you without making you choose because, quite honestly, I am scared that you’ll leave or- or, I don’t know. The point is: I didn’t want to complicate our relationship by telling you the way we feel for you.”

“My boys,” you murmur, your hand going up to cup each of their cheek. (Thank Janna that there were no passersby due to the rain.) “Would it be wrong to say that I don’t want to choose? Because. . . I don’t think I could choose.”

Jayce feels himself exhale. Viktor sags against him: the soul-crushing possibility of you leaving was out of the question. “Please come home, mujer preciosa,” Jayce pleads weakly, leaning into your palm. “We can make this up to you-“

“However you want,” Viktor adds quickly, sticking his bottom lip out with a shrug.

You laugh weakly and nod. “Yeah- yes. I’d love to go home. Hold on, pretty boy,” you say before bending down to retrieve Viktor’s cane.

“Is it too early to say I love you?” Viktor asks, pressing a kiss to your temple.

You chuckle and let yourself be sandwiched between the two men who you’d been enamored with for the past six months. “I already know you do, but it wouldn’t hurt to say,” you say.

“Well, we can say it as long as you want us to,” Jayce says, watching you with fond eyes.

[wordsnbones]

posting the most unhinged specific memes and images and photoshopped pictures of me (or my slutty twink avatars) in video game worlds or just niche hyperfixations on instagram to weed out the weak and disrupt the horror of the same three kind of mind-numbingly similar empty socially accepted images. putting bloodborne lines in the caption.

[corinthianism]

SOMETHIN' STUPID || VIKTOR

pairing: viktor (arcane)/fem!reader additional tags: viktor's pov, viktor is a certified yearner, maybe ooc, unrequited love that's actually requited, no physical descriptions for reader other than having dainty fingers and being shorter than viktor, hopefully correct use of czech pet names, barely proofread synopsis: the ever-brilliant viktor finds himself drowning in feelings for his colleague, so what does he do? bury them, of course.... until he learns that love is not something you can just ignore.

author's note: hello everyone! it's been a long, long while since i've written anything so i thought i would try and see if the ol' writing machine (aka my brain) still works lol. this is more of a blurb than anything so please go easy on me. also trying out something new by writing in present tense (lmk if it flows well!) viktor might be a little ooc but i'm still trying to fully understand him. hopefully my characterization of him in future fics (if any) will be more faithful to the viktor you're all familiar with. anyways, enjoy 2k words of viktor yearning like CRAZY 🫶🏼

Viktor doesn’t know how much more of this he can take. How many more times would your eyes meet from across the room at one of those parties he never really wanted to attend in the first place? How many more times would your fingers brush in the early morning, when he accepts the steaming sweetmilk that you so kindly got for him? How many more times would your laughter intermingle softly late into the night, when exhaustion took over and your writing started to look more like chicken scratch rather than letters?

He might just go insane.

How was it possible to want someone this much? Maybe he’s experienced something like this before, in tiny amounts, for people he hasn’t thought about in years. Deep down, he knows that even if he added all of those fleeting romances together, it would still only be a fraction of what he feels now. For you.

He can’t pinpoint that exact moment in time when everything changed. There were definitely a few of those moments that stood out more than others, but none of those instances were the catalyst for whatever this is. But they certainly don’t help his case.

A few words of encouragement.

A book recommendation.

A smile— so soft, so intimate, he briefly allows himself to believe that it was meant just for him. Something precious for him to keep, to be his and his alone.

In the dim light of the lab, he finds you asleep on your desk. The humming glow of the hex crystals leaves you blanketed in a gentle blue. He’s heard tales of this before, from when he bothered to listen to such things. It would happen just like this, they said: his heart would beat so fast, it threatened to leave his chest entirely. His skin would burn with something unmistakable, a feeling that left one in a state of simultaneous confusion and clarity.

He feels it all now and he finds it polarizing. It’s too much and not enough. He chases and runs away from it at the same time. A part of him wants it to stop, to go away and leave him forever for the sake of ending this game he’s painfully losing… but a greater part of him hopes that it will grow and grow to the point where maybe you’ll notice and do something about it. His palms get a little sweaty just thinking about making the first move. Symptoms of a lovesick fool.

The soft sound of your breathing quiets the pounding of his heart, prevents the wretched feelings from overflowing and spilling everywhere. Even if it was just for tonight. Tonight, he keeps his lips sealed, fights to keep himself from reaching for you. It would be unbecoming of him.

His eyes land on you again, observing how your head rested on your arms. Understanding hits him then, why you’re so bothered by seeing him stay at the lab so late that he ends up falling asleep. That position couldn’t have been comfortable. Of course, he knew that from experience, but it’s your comfort he’s thinking about right now. He wonders if this is what you felt whenever you woke him up and implored him to go home.

Surely not.

No, he can’t wrap his head around you possibly viewing that act the same way he does. Not when he wants to bottle this moment, wants to capture the preciousness of seeing you like this. It just can’t be the same.

So can you really blame him if when he finally rests a hand on your shoulder to wake you gently, he lets it linger there for just a little longer? An infinitesimal piece of time that he claims for himself. He never thought himself to be the sentimental type, but he cherishes it all: he cherishes the way you blink slowly as you returned to the waking world, and your tired murmur of his name that makes his chest tighten.

It’s just a wisp of a moment, never really tangible enough for him to hold in his hands, but he cherishes it all the same. It’s burned in his memory, in his very being, the same way everything else about you is. Every piece of you that you so generously gifted him.

“You should go home, darling.”

The word slips past his lips before he could even think about it. But he allows himself this one indulgence. He can’t help it. He’s always been a bit greedy.

“What time is it?” you ask.

“Far too late for you to be here,” he answers.

You huff out a breath of a laugh, “That’s rich coming from you.”

He finds himself smiling. How does someone manage to be so endlessly endearing without even trying?

It takes an embarrassing amount of effort for him to pull back his hand from your shoulder. Had you been more awake and had the room been brighter, he might’ve schooled his expression into something more neutral. Something to hide the unbridled adoration in his eyes. He doesn’t do that now. With the shield of darkness to protect him, he lets the mask come off. He lets his affection for you wash over him in waves. It would’ve been liberating, if it wasn’t for the tiny detail that that affection was unrequited.

Still, he says your name with utmost care. “You must go home and rest.”

To his surprise, you listen. You mumble a tired "okay” and gather your belongings, slipping on your coat. “You should go home, too, Vik.”

“I will. Soon. I just need to finish a few things.”

Your face twists into a frown, “No, you’ll do that tomorrow.” Before he can interject, you speak up again, “Just… come with me? It’s late and I don’t want to walk home alone.”

His brain refuses to reconcile with what his eyes see: the trepidation written all over your features, the way you clutch the lapel of your coat just a little tighter. He knows it’s a trap, you just want to get him out of the lab but how could he possibly reject the promise of a few more minutes with you? The chance to pretend, even if it’s just for those precious few minutes, that he was taking you home as someone more than a colleague? More than a friend? Only a fool would say no to you. Or perhaps he was a fool either way. He really must be going insane.

He says yes almost instantly.

It’s cold in Piltover tonight. It makes his bad leg ache more than it already does, and so his strides are a bit more careful. He doesn’t say anything about how you also slow down to match his pace but he appreciates your considerate gesture nonetheless.

The moon hangs in the sky big and bright, making everything around you seem softer. It’s picturesque. Almost romantic. He tries his best not to entertain that thought for much longer. Instead, he focuses on what you say to him so he could ignore the traitorous thoughts his mind conjures up and the way his knees were protesting because of the cold.

Conversation with you is easy— terrifyingly so. It was one of the first things he noticed about you when you first met.

Early on in the process of finding sponsors and securing funding, him and Jayce quickly realized that they needed help. Yes, Jayce is a friend of the Kiramman family. Yes, Viktor is Heimerdinger’s protégé, but they’re academics. At the end of the day, Jayce’s warm personality could only do so much when he was still greatly inexperienced with navigating these more political spaces and for all of his experience and perceptiveness, Viktor knows he’s no good at sweet-talking sponsors, either.

Enter, you.

Caitlyn Kiramman was the one to recommend you, her former tutor. Jayce was quick to back her up, remembering that you were also Academy alumni; a particularly strategic businesswoman. Viktor was hesitant at first, knowing that a third party could complicate things. Hextech was born out of the dream to help people. He worried that bringing business and politics (even though he knew it was necessary) into the mix would warp Hextech into something it wasn’t. Jayce convinced him to take a gamble, and it seemed that the potential of Hextech was enough to bring you back to Piltover from your travels across Runeterra.

It took him a while to warm up to you. You weren’t nobility, but most definitely well-off. Even more so after your years as a business consultant to organizations all over the continent. He respected you, sure, but Viktor had a hard time trusting someone who was so… privileged. How could you possibly understand how important it was that Hextech remained a beacon of hope for the less fortunate? Perhaps it was naive of him to think that way, as much as he hated to admit it.

But true to your reputation, you delivered exactly what they needed. You bridged the gap between Viktor and Jayce’s hopes for Hextech and the support they needed from sponsors, protecting them and their inventions from being taken advantage of.

Suffice to say, you earned his admiration.

Never in a million years would Viktor imagine that you would captivate his entire being, too.

It was daunting. Scary, really. Especially now that he’s beginning to understand the full extent of his affections. Years and years of burying that softness from his youth deep beneath the armor of his intellect— all that hard work diminished by a pretty girl. Gods, he really is just a man. Not even that. With you, he feels like a highschooler with a crush. It’s painful. Downright humiliating. But he wouldn’t trade it for anything. Not when you link your arm around his, laughing at something he said. Was he really that funny? Probably not. He’s just happy to make you laugh.

“You don’t have to be nice about it. Salo is a grade-A asshole,” you grinned. “We both know it. If I have to spend another dinner with him present I might actually stab a fork in my eyes.”

He smiles, “Ah, but that wouldn’t save you from his incessant chatter.”

“I’ll stab the fork into my ears too."

“I might just follow after you,” he hums, “you’ll have to check if it works first, though.”

Your friendship blossomed when your visits to the lab became less for work and more for leisure. You wanted to visit, wanted to learn more about what he and Jayce were working on and why. Everything after that was just dominoes. You, with all your fiery passion and sharp wit, have become a permanent fixture in his life and now? He could hardly imagine life without you in it. You're one of his dearest friends and, much to his dismay, that makes his current predicament even more challenging than it already is.

Before he knew it, the two of you were standing in front of your apartment building— one of the most luxurious in Piltover. He could only imagine how much it cost, though he knew for certain that your penthouse probably barely made a dent in your wealth. He’s gotten somewhat used to your differing lifestyles, but he’s never completely able to not marvel at it. A gust of wind kissed his skin once more as he turned to look at you.

“This is me,” you say, gloved hands in your pocket and your lovely, lovely face framed by your hair and ruby red scarf. He recognizes it as the gift he gave you a year ago now. A spur-of-the-moment purchase on one of the rare occasions he was actually outside Academy grounds. He remembers thinking that the color would look nice on you. He was right. He finds himself holding onto the seconds before he has to go. “Thank you for walking me home, Viktor.”

“Of course,” he nods but the calmness of his voice don’t match the way his eyes bore into yours. “It’s only proper.”

“Proper?”

“Yes. Proper. I am a gentleman, after all.”

His accent comes out thicker, emphasizing the words more than he means to.

“I didn’t take you for someone who cared much about propriety,” you tease.

“Is it because I’m from the undercity?” he deadpans and he relishes in the look of horror on your face that replaces your grin.

“What? No!” you exclaim, smacking his arm when you realize he’s just joking. “You. Are. Impossible.”

A laugh bubbles out of his chest, “Oh, that’s cruel. You would hit a defenseless man? How heartless.”

“Shut up. That cane of yours is a weapon of war. Don’t think I haven’t seen you smack Jayce with it.”

“If I hit him with it, he probably deserved it.”

“Poor Jayce,” you laugh as well. “Remind me not to get on your bad side.”

Viktor smiles.

“I do not think you could even if you tried, lásko."

He freezes and so do you. The laughter—the music—that you shared for the briefest of moments was thoroughly snuffed out, leaving you both in a silence that threatens to swallow him whole. He didn’t mean to do that. He didn’t mean to speak so gently, but there is not a part of Viktor that could withhold this sincerity from you. Specks of the truth, of the confession he’s barely managed to wrangle into submission and lock away somewhere dark and unreachable.

He pulls back on instinct. He’s shown too much, said too much. You don’t move. He is petrified.

Your eyes widen and he sees his reflection in them, staring back at him. This is it, he thinks. He’s crossed the line and he’ll have to deal with the crushing blow of your rejection.

You manage to compose yourself and what you say next is… well, unexpected. Your tone is light, clearing the air and allowing him to breathe again.

“Do you say that to every woman or am I a special case? I’d hate to be part of a roster.”

He’s taken aback, but he feels a weight lifted off his shoulders. You are a miracle in his eyes. Washing away his worries with a kind smile and a few choice words. He laughs again and this time, he doesn’t stop himself from speaking the truth. It’s now or never.

“Surely you know by now that you are singular,” he whispers, his accent a pleasant drawl in your ears. He takes a step forward. It is gravity that pulls him in, not the Earth’s, but yours. A force that he can’t help but be drawn to. Not that he would ever dare to resist it now that his fear has shrunk down to something a little less debilitating.

His face is inches from yours. You don’t move. He gets a little braver.

“I do not appreciate your implication that I would pay attention to anyone else,” his voice is low, honest. “As if anyone could compare to you. As if you don’t hold my very being in the palm of your hand. Miláčku, I adore you. Don’t you know that?”

There is a hint of pleading in his tone, begging you to understand the full scope of his feelings from those few words so that he wouldn’t unravel before you, a bundle of nerves and petals the same shade as your scarf.

“Say something. Please,” his fear rears its ugly head once more. “Say the word and we’ll pretend this never happened. I will remain your colleague and nothing more. A friend, if you would allow it.”

“What if I don’t want that?” you ask, your own voice a little shaky with uncertainty. Maybe it was also fear. That, he’s not quite sure.

Viktor doesn’t fully trust what he’s hearing, thinks it to be a figment of his deluded imagination, but his heart is screaming at him now to push forward.

“What is it you want, lásko? Tell me and it shall be yours.”

You're almost breathless when you finally respond, “You. I want you."

The world stills. Time itself screeches to a halt. There is only you and him, together in this moment that he knows will be woven into the threads of his soul. He has never known euphoria quite like this. He can’t name it yet, doesn’t know if this is love. He can only hope that it will be.

When he looks into your eyes again, he does not see his own terrified reflection. He just sees you. And the sheer intensity of your gaze that rivals his own. Have you always looked at him that way? Was he just too blind to see it?

“Do you mean that?” he finds himself asking. He has to— has to make sure that this is real.

You smile again, dainty fingers intertwining with his. It is a gentle smile, a hopeful smile that answers his question before you even open your mouth.

“I do,” your voice is so gentle and yet it squeezes his heart. “I’m yours, Viktor, if you’ll have me.”

He brings your knuckles to his lips, places a reverent kiss on them like you’ve given him the world. In a way, that’s exactly what you did. Maybe his lips were always meant to be on your skin, worshipping you like the goddess you are. It feels too natural for it to mean anything else.

And for the first time in a long time, he allows himself to hope.

“I would love nothing more.”

[kirammanswifey]

《Hearts Beyond Reason》

Viktor

writer's note: hello here, ican't explain how much i enjoyed writing this, i have a soft spot for viktor. btw, for those who don't know, this story came from one of my arcane imagines, here is the link in case you want to see the other scenarios, of which i will continue to upload little stories like these during the course of this week, tomorrow it's jinx's turn ;)

link:

warnings: kind of a smut, blowjob, praise kink, mature language, princess treatment for my man, pet names, and a little bit of fluff... just a little bit, we love sassy viktor, also, reader is a baddie.

The auditorium was filled, a sea of brilliant minds awaiting eagerly. Viktor, a renowned scientist specializing in artificial intelligence and robotics, approached the podium with a modest posture, though his reputation preceded any presentation. With his calm and precise voice, he explained how his latest research in biotechnology could revolutionize smart prosthetics.

From your seat, you took quick notes, constantly reviewing to ensure nothing slipped by, as everything coming out of his mouth was incredibly brilliant and unprecedented. You had covered many scientific conferences, but there was something in his approach, in his ability to balance technical complexity with humanity, that kept you intrigued. Maybe it was his distinct kind of Czech accent or the way his eyes drifted to the ceiling, avoiding focusing on the crowd in front of him. He was nervous; public speaking wasn’t his forte, you immediately realized, and you found it incredibly endearing.

When he finished, the room erupted in applause. Apparently, you weren’t the only one impressed. You wasted no time and rushed toward him, dodging other attendees as if in a Mario Kart race.

"Excuse me, Mr. Viktor," you said, adjusting your glasses and catching your breath. "I’m a journalist from The Innovator's Journal. Could I have a brief interview?"

Viktor turned toward you, assessing you with a probing gaze.

You met his eyes with a faint smile, your long lashes fluttering in a cautious flirtation. Subtle non-verbal manipulations you had learned over your career, because journalism wasn’t an easy job, especially not for women. Sometimes, you had to make use of certain physical attributes to draw the attention of interview subjects.

But Viktor didn’t react the way others did. He didn’t look beyond your face.

"For The Innovator’s Journal?" he asked, his accent soft yet distinct. You nodded, mesmerized, and he seemed to consider your request. "I generally don’t accept impromptu interviews, but you seem... determined."

You took a step closer, but without fully invading his personal space, just enough to better perceive his scent. His fragrance was an esoteric, almost magical blend—soft yet noticeable. If stars had a scent, it would surely smell like him.

"I know how to seize opportunities when I see them," you replied with a sharp smile, not fully showing your teeth, as if toying with the possibilities.

A flicker of what seemed like amusement crossed his gaze before he nodded.

"Five minutes," he said, leading you to a quieter corner.

You blinked quickly, not expecting such an ultimatum. However, you didn’t keep him waiting and pulled out your recorder. Clearing your throat to keep your voice steady, you began.

"Your research has been described as a bridge between biotechnology and humanity. Is that what you’re aiming for?"

Viktor slightly tilted his head, as if finding the question deeper than expected.

"I seek to close the gaps," he responded calmly. "Between human abilities and the opportunities that technology offers."

"But some critics argue that it could make people too dependent on machines. How do you respond to that?"

You were known for being controversial; you liked pushing people to their limits. You loved seeing their reactions and enjoyed tense environments. Maybe it was a bit machiavellian, but you didn’t mind, you saw it as part of your job.

His eyes narrowed slightly, not in anger but because he was thinking carefully.

"Dependency isn’t the problem, but how we use what we create. Tools are an extension of our abilities, not a replacement."

He knew what he was doing. He had answered with careful words—if he weren’t a scientist, he’d have had a brilliant career in politics. His response was decisive, but you were expecting more, so you decided to take a risk with something more personal.

"And you? How do you see yourself on this bridge between humanity and technology?"

You asked it clearly regarding his physical disability, as he still walked with a cane and hadn’t implanted one of his much-publicized smart prosthetics.

He paused for a moment before answering. His gaze drifted slightly to the room before returning to you.

"I suppose I’m someone who walks that bridge carefully. It’s a fragile balance, but it’s necessary."

The way his words resonated, heavy with a sort of melancholy, made you forget, for a moment, that you were supposed to be the journalist. There was something more to him, something not easily revealed.

When you finished, you stored your recorder and dared to smile at him again, this time without ulterior motives—a genuine smile.

"Thank you, Mr. Viktor. It was a fascinating conversation," you said, tempted to add that he was equally fascinating, but you refrained.

You didn’t want to scare him off. Viktor seemed like the type of man who didn’t have much female contact, you could easily tell by his physical discomfort. When he spoke with you, his body was tense, and he didn’t gesticulate much. He seemed more like a robot than a person.

"A pleasure, Miss," he responded with a slight nod.

There was a brief silence before you decided to take the next step.

"I must admit, I’m not only intrigued by your work but by you as well. Would you like to continue this conversation over dinner?"

You felt your heart race when that question escaped your lips. You hoped you hadn’t scared him off. It was the first time in a long while that a man had caught your attention so intensely.

For a moment, Viktor seemed surprised. Then, his expression softened, though still laden with reservation.

"I don’t usually accept those types of invitations," he admitted, though his tone didn’t sound too convincing.

That wasn’t a rejection, at least not a definitive one. He was evaluating you. Clearly, he didn’t trust you yet. You adapted to the situation and played his game. You weren’t going to let such a man slip away so easily.

"And I don’t usually make them. Few things capture my attention enough to take such a risk. You see, Mr. Viktor, I’m not easily impressed," you replied, maintaining a confident gaze.

His lips curved just slightly into a smile, a kind of wry smirk that was impossible to read.

Viktor was an enigma you were dying to decode.

"In that case, I’ll accept. After all, curiosity is a virtue," he handed you his personal card with all his contact details, practically leaving everything in your hands, giving you the final word.

Your heart skipped another beat, and as you watched him leave, you knew that conversation was just the beginning. Oh, and you couldn’t wait to see what was coming next.

Viktor decided to go for one of his typical nightly walks after escaping that room filled with important names and fake smiles. Fortunately, he managed to slip away before getting caught up in that pathetic charade. Viktor despised those events; the so-called "scientists" who attended seemed more interested in taking pictures with him than in seriously discussing their projects. They didn’t care about science. In fact, Viktor often doubted whether they had ever opened a quantum physics book in their lives.

The sound of Viktor's footsteps echoed softly on the deserted sidewalk. It was one of those quiet nights when the city lights seemed to dissolve into the horizon, and the stars began to shine brightly. The calmness centered him, pulling him away from daily worries. During these moments, he could reflect on his research progress but also on the purpose science gave him. Sometimes, when the air was fresh and clear, he allowed himself to think of something more personal.

The conversations from that day at the conference still lingered in his mind. Her. The journalist he had spoken to after his presentation. There was something about her that had unsettled him: her sharp curiosity, her direct way of asking questions, and, most of all, the way she wasn’t afraid to challenge him. That had left him pondering. After so many years in the academic and scientific world, it was rare for someone to go beyond technical topics and ask him something more personal. But she had done just that.

A sigh escaped his lips as he looked up at the starry sky. The stillness of the universe, the precision of planetary orbits—all of it seemed to have a purpose. But in his own life, everything was in constant flux. After the interview, she had asked him out. It had been unexpected, but Viktor couldn’t help feeling intrigued. The sensation of uncertainty and anticipation kept him on edge as he walked through the nearby park.

The sound of a message interrupted his thoughts. He pulled out his phone, still gazing at the stars, and saw a LinkedIn notification: a connection request from her. Something in his stomach flipped. What was she expecting from him? A deeper conversation, perhaps? It was a world of unknowns. Viktor wasn’t someone who let curiosity drive him, but there was something about this woman—something about her intellect—that kept him captivated.

One step at a time, he thought, as he accepted the request, not really knowing what to expect from it.

Three days later, in the cozy restaurant where they had agreed to meet, Viktor couldn’t stop rehearsing the words he had mentally prepared. This wasn’t the kind of social situation he excelled at; the conference had been easier, more technical. But now, sitting across from you, there was something that made him feel vulnerable. It wasn’t just his work at stake.

You arrived on time. He watched you as you walked through the restaurant door. The warm light from the lamps highlighted your face, but what immediately caught his attention was the way you walked: confident, yet with a seriousness that belied any facade of superficiality. He had seen you in your role as a journalist, but now, here, he couldn’t help but feel disoriented by your presence.

"Are you nervous?" you asked with a slight smile, noticing the small drops of sweat on his forehead.

"No, just... thoughtful," Viktor replied, more out of habit than sincerity.

The conversation began with that slight tug of awkwardness, something he had already anticipated.

You both took a seat, and after a few minutes of uncomfortable silence, you started asking him questions about his research, careful to use a tone that indicated you weren’t just interested in professional matters.

“Why did you choose biotechnology, Viktor? It’s not an easy or straightforward discipline.” It was the first time you addressed him informally, and it seemed to please him because you noticed his shoulders relaxed.

Viktor studied your face more closely. In your gaze, there wasn’t just curiosity but genuine interest. Finally, he could see that you weren’t merely seeking more information for your work but something more.

“It’s a way to try to surpass my own limits. Since I was a child, I’ve been obsessed with the idea that the human body can be improved, even when physical limitations seem insurmountable,” he said, his words tinged with vulnerability. He looked at you and felt satisfied seeing you listening intently. “At some point, I realized I wasn’t just trying to improve my body but others’ as well.”

You didn’t look at him as a distant scientist but as someone who had dedicated his life to a cause. The sincerity in his words struck you unexpectedly.

“But what happens when science becomes too big? When humanity is lost in the process?”

Viktor paused. That was the question he feared most, yet you had posed it with a disarming naturalness.

“That’s what I try to avoid,” he replied, almost in a whisper. “Science should serve humanity, not dominate it. But sometimes... the path forward is uncertain.”

At that moment, the air between you grew tense. Viktor’s universe, which until then had been filled with cold equations and formulas, seemed to crumble a little before you, as if everything he had built was only a reflection of his own insecurities.

The waiter brought the food, but neither of you seemed to notice.

“I’m surprised by how open you are about this. Most people with physical disabilities are quite reserved when it comes to their condition,” you said sincerely, trying to lighten the moment, though the seriousness of the conversation lingered.

“The truth is... no one’s ever asked me before,” he admitted, unable to suppress the faint smile that formed on his lips.

You continued to observe him, this time with more depth, more intensity.

“I think that’s what draws me to your work, Viktor. It’s not just the science; it’s the way you constantly question yourself. It’s as if you’re searching for something more than just solutions.” You were fascinated, and you weren’t afraid to show it.

There was a silence—the kind of silence that invites something more. Viktor pondered how to explain himself.

“The search for answers never ends. And sometimes... that’s all you have.”

You smiled, amused. Conversations with him were always unpredictable. You glanced around the room, noting the soft lighting, the dancing shadows on the walls, the distant murmur of other diners… It all faded when Viktor spoke. Every word that left his mouth seemed designed to disarm you, to subtly but directly pull you out of your comfort zone—a remarkable feat for a journalist like you.

“So, what drives you to follow this path?” you asked, your voice soft but loaded with genuine interest, studying every reaction Viktor gave. With each new sentence, you sought to challenge him, wanting more than his opinion—something beyond his scientific facade.

Viktor looked at you over his glass of wine, his gaze more cautious than he would have liked to admit. The way you were interested in his words was unusual. Most people saw his research as mere achievements or theories. But you saw him—the person, the man behind the genius.

“It’s not just about science,” Viktor replied, but his voice sounded less sure than he had hoped. Something in the air between you unsettled him. There was something in the way you looked at him, with an intensity that made him feel exposed. “It’s about changing the rules, about finding what... what others don’t see.”

You smiled, but not kindly. There was a glint of amusement in your eyes, playing a game only you seemed to know.

“And what do you see, Viktor?” you asked provocatively, your lips curving with mischief. It wasn’t just a simple question. Every word you spoke was a touch, a brush, something that pushed him to let you see more, to say more than he was willing to reveal.

Viktor felt trapped in your gaze but couldn’t look away. Something about you stirred the need to talk, to expose his vulnerability. The tension was palpable; each new interaction seemed like another step in an invisible dance.

“I see a world full of possibilities…” he replied, more by instinct than reflection. He was far from his scientific research, from the cold and calculated equations. Here, there were no formulas he could apply. It was just you and him—and a chemistry as tangible as the air surrounding you.

You let your eyes slowly glide over him as if evaluating every facet of his being, every word, every gesture. It was a silent analysis, one you didn’t bother hiding. Viktor could feel himself being drawn into your scrutiny.

“Is that all you see?” you whispered, leaning slightly closer to the table, keeping your eyes fixed on his, determined to unravel his mask of control. “I think there’s more, something you haven’t said.”

The air between you thickened. Viktor swallowed hard, feeling his heart beat faster than usual. You had hit the mark, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to continue this conversation—not with the way you were looking at him now, like a predator stalking its prey.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, his voice lower than usual, though something in his eyes glimmered with more than doubt—there was something urging him to let go.

Without missing a beat, you picked up your wine glass and, in a motion so smooth it seemed casual, brought it to your lips, looking at him over the rim. You said nothing, but Viktor understood the silent invitation. The chemistry was there between you, dense and palpable. The brush of your lips, the way your fingers grazed the glass… Everything was a subtle provocation, a game neither of you was willing to lose.

Viktor leaned slightly forward, letting the distance between you shrink. His breath hitched for a moment, and when he spoke, his tone was low—so intimate it almost felt like a confession.

“I’m not a man who lets himself go…” he said, but his words didn’t convince even himself. He was caught in the current of what was happening, in the tension woven between your bodies.

“Are you sure?” You raised an eyebrow, your demeanor now a little more challenging. Your voice carried a subtle provocation but didn’t lose the softness that characterized your way of speaking.

You were a challenge, and Viktor, though he denied it, was more than willing to accept it—to accept you.

The conversation veered into more personal matters, and as it did, the words became softer, closer, as if the two of you were walking a fine line between professional and intimate. Viktor realized that every phrase that left your lips not only challenged him intellectually but also disarmed him emotionally.

Time flew by, and when dessert arrived, both of you knew the night was far from over. Viktor was restless, but in a way unfamiliar to him.

You, on the other hand, enjoyed your effect on him. It was so amusing to see how he held his breath when you 'accidentally' grazed his right leg with your heel under the table. The way the corners of his mouth trembled, creating a slight pout, as if silently asking for more. You found yourself in total surrender—if that man asked for the moon, you'd head to space to fetch it for him. But, of course, you wouldn't let him know that. Not yet.

At the end of the dinner, after talking about everything and nothing, Viktor leaned forward, looking at you with an expression that, for the first time that night, showed a mix of determination and something else... something unsettling.

"Would you like to come to my place?" he asked, his voice now firm, though tinged with a touch of uncertainty. There was something in his words that made him more vulnerable, as if he needed this connection, this closeness.

And you couldn’t help but feel the same.

"I’d love to," you replied, and your confirmation hit Viktor like a direct blow to the heart.

It was clear: the night had only just begun.

Viktor's house was exactly what you expected from him: minimalist, functional, almost austere in its decoration. Yet, there was something incredibly cozy about the way everything was arranged. The dim lighting, the soft classical music playing in the background, the faint aroma of incense that filled the air... Everything was meticulously designed to soothe, to find the balance he so clearly sought.

The atmosphere was perfect, but you couldn't help but feel that the air was heavy, charged with something more than just the fragrance of the incense. It was as if Viktor's home itself reflected the inner struggle he carried: orderly, precise, but so, so empty.

Viktor watched as your eyes scanned his home with a mix of curiosity and caution. In your gaze, there was something he couldn’t quite read—an air of control and, at the same time, total vulnerability. It was obvious he wasn’t used to showing his private life, but he said nothing.

As usual, you broke the silence first. You approached the living room table, lightly touching the polished wooden surface, your fingers brushing against the objects decorating it.

"You have an… interesting house," you commented in a tone that could be interpreted as sarcastic. You wanted to tease him.

Viktor glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, a slight hint of discomfort visible on his face.

"I don’t like distractions," he replied curtly, but the look he gave you was more complex. A hint of something hidden beneath the surface, something he wasn’t ready to share.

You didn’t bother to insist. Instead, you turned toward him, and before Viktor could react, you stepped forward, eagerly. Every step you took felt as if you were crossing an invisible boundary, challenging every rule Viktor had built for himself. You wanted to push him to his limits, to shatter his perfect facade, to strip him bare in both body and soul.

"I think distractions are necessary sometimes," you murmured slowly and sensually, your tone laden with subtext Viktor immediately recognized.

He stood frozen, unable to look away. Something in your voice disarmed him, something in your presence made him want to open up in a way he wasn’t accustomed to. And yet, he couldn’t resist it.

"And what kind of distraction do you have in mind?" His voice came out deeper than he had intended, with a hint of unease he couldn’t disguise.

Your tongue traced the edges of your lips slowly, not quite touching your lipstick, just teasing, just enough to draw his attention to your mouth. When you succeeded, you smirked wickedly.

Viktor swallowed hard, unconsciously licking his own lips, an involuntary, clumsy act that left him defenseless against you.

"How about a conversation without filters?" you suggested, your voice almost a whisper.

Your fingers moved closer to his chest, gently brushing the lapel of his jacket, exploring every inch of his form with your eyes before deciding whether to touch or not, like a soldier in unknown territory. Viktor swallowed with difficulty, feeling his body respond to that simple touch, that closeness he hadn’t anticipated.

You didn’t back away for a moment, keeping eye contact with him while your fingers still toyed with the fabric of his clothes. Viktor felt a weight in his chest, not just from the tension of the moment, but from the need to step away, to stop letting you control him this way. Yet, something in him didn’t want you to stop.

"What I want, Viktor..." you began, your voice a whisper charged with a confidence that unsettled him, "...is for you to show me who you really are. Not the genius everyone knows, not the scientific leader everyone respects. Just you. The man behind it all. Show me the real you."

Viktor took a deep breath, feeling those words cut deep. He had never allowed anyone to see him that way. He had never let anyone get this close. And yet, here you were, making him feel like it was impossible not to open up to you. Like it was impossible to deny the need to surrender, even for a moment, to something beyond science, beyond reason.

You moved even closer, your lips just a few centimeters from his. The distance was minimal but enough to make the tension between you almost unbearable. Your breaths mingled, and Viktor could feel the heat emanating from you, the palpable desire surrounding you both.

"And if I don’t want you to see that?" His voice was low but defiant, as if trying to protect himself from something he knew, deep down, he could no longer avoid.

You found yourself smiling again, but this time it wasn’t a playful smile. It was a smile of understanding because you had confirmed your suspicions.

Viktor was afraid of connecting with someone. Maybe he didn’t even know how to do it; maybe he never had and had always convinced himself he didn’t need to—that with his machines and equations, he would have enough.

"Then why am I here?" you asked, not moving back even a millimeter.

For a brief moment, Viktor felt trapped. He couldn’t lie, couldn’t keep his distance. Something inside him wanted to give in, wanted to feel vulnerable, for once, without the weight of perfection he imposed on himself.

"Because..." he began, but his words faded into the air when you pulled him toward you, your lips brushing lightly against his. It was a fleeting touch, so brief that Viktor barely had time to process it, but it left him trembling, gripping his cane tighter as he felt he might lose his balance.

You looked into his eyes, waiting for a reaction, any kind of response, some indicator, a confirmation, anything. Viktor stood there, motionless, but his thoughts were a whirlwind. The strength he had resisted with all night dissolved in that contact, and for the first time, he felt the raw, real desire to embrace vulnerability. To let go.

Without a word, Viktor kissed you. At first, it was slow, cautious, and clumsy, as if testing the waters, afraid of diving too quickly. But you weren’t interested in caution; you pulled him into you, craving more contact, more friction, more intimacy...

Your tongue made its way into his mouth, tracing his front teeth and laughing in his face when you heard him sigh in surprise. Your hands traveled to the back of his neck and you took complete control. You devoured him. You sucked and bit as you went. You ate up all his moans and swallowed him greedily.

When you separated, you both breathed heavily. Viktor, his mind clouded by desire, felt a strange sense of lightness. For a moment, the scientist in him had completely disappeared. You didn't waste his moment of confusion and pushed him onto the couch behind him. Viktor fell awkwardly and humiliatingly, his cane had fallen to the floor, and his long, weak legs were spread wide. His brown hair was messy, and his eyes were as wide as they were bright.

You smiled, he looked ready to be devoured. You took a step and raised your foot on the furniture, placing it right in front of Viktor's crotch. You bent your torso and appreciated his blush up close.

"Don't think about it too much, Viktor. Just... let yourself go. Let me take care of you. Can you do that?" you asked, taking him by his thin chin, he nodded slowly and shakily, like a lamb at the mercy of a wolf, and the truth is that metaphor was not so far from reality.

He's not used to relinquishing control, but in this moment, he finds himself craving it. Craving you. And you noticed it, you noticed his desire, his wish to lose himself in you, so you were going to give him your best. You wanted to make him feel good. Really good.

"Oh, aren't you a pretty boy?," you said, pressing the sharp tip of your heel into his cock. Viktor inhales sharply, his hips bucking instinctively into your touch, he was like a hungry puppy. A strangled moan escapes his lips, his eyes fluttering closed at the sudden surge of pleasure-pain. "So obedient and willing to help, to give his best, as always."

He flushes at your teasing words, a mix of embarrassment and arousal coloring his pale skin. Viktor's not used to being called sweet or pretty, least of all in a situation like this. But the way you say it, with that wicked gleam in your eyes and that smirk on your lips... it makes him want to be those things. For you.

Humming softly, he reaches up to cover your hand on his chin with his own, guiding it to his chest. His heartbeat is rapid and strong beneath your palm, a silent testament to his desire. "I am not... accustomed to such directness", he admits, his voice rough with need. "But I find myself appreciating it." Viktor's other hand comes to rest on your calf. It's a tentative touch, almost hesitant, but unmistakably eager.

His broken voice. His defeated expression. The way his hand caressed your leg, so sweet yet so hard. It was too much. You needed to please him as soon as possible.

"You're so cute," you had to bite your lip to keep from cursing, "Can I eat you?"

Viktor's eyes widen at your bold question, a wave of heat rushing to his cheeks and other more sensitive areas. He's not used to such crude, direct language, especially not from someone as cool and collected as you show to be. It catches him off guard and sets his heart racing.

As you kneels down in front of him, Viktor's breath hitches in his throat. He looks down at you, his amber eyes searching your face for any hint of jest or deception. But he finds none. Only a hunger that matches his own, a desire that makes his stomach flip and his mouth go dry.

Slowly, almost hesitantly, Viktor nods. His voice is barely above a whisper when he speaks, his words almost lost amidst the pounding of his own heartbeat. "I... I would like that. Very much," he swallows hard, his tongue darting out to wet his suddenly dry lips.

Viktor's hands come to rest on the couch beside him, gripping the fabric tightly. He's not sure what to do with himself, how to act in this new role of his. All he knows is that he wants you, wants your touch, wants your everything. And so, with a deep breath, he spreads his legs a little wider, a silent invitation.

"Can I take off your pants?" you knew you didn't need to ask, it was more than obvious that you both wanted to. But your goal was to enjoy this new facet of Viktor, you were liking this tender and submissive Viktor a little bit too much.

Viktor feels is heart pounding in his chest as he stares down at you kneeling before him. The sight sends a jolt of anticipation and arousal through his body, his cock throbbing almost painfully against the confines of his pants.

With a shaky nod, Viktor lifts his hips slightly, allowing you to slip your fingers under the waistband of his pants. His breath catches in his throat as you start to tug them down, inch by torturous inch. The cool air of the house hits his skin, making him shiver and his member twitch. Once his pants and underwear are off, Viktor sits bare before you, his legs splayed out and his arousal evident. He resists the urge to cover up, forcing himself to stay still and let you appreciate him. His cheeks burn with embarrassment and desire, his chest heaving with each ragged breath.

"You're even prettier down here," your compliment makes him choke on his saliva.

The way you look at him, with your eyes roaming hungrily over every inch of his exposed flesh... it makes him feel powerful. Desired. Needed. And Viktor has never felt needed.

He squirms slightly under your intense scrutiny, his cock jumping at the slightest brush of your fingertips against his thigh. Viktor's voice is low and rough when he speaks, his words laced with need. 

"I am glad you find me pleasing. I must admit, I have never been inspected quite so... thoroughly before," his lips twitch into a tentative smile, his eyes darkened with desire as they meet yours.

Well, that was a new side. A sassy and naughty one. And you loved it even more.

Slowly, almost hesitantly, Viktor reaches out to brush a stray lock of hair from your face, tucking it gently behind your ear. He was so sweet, you wanted to hug him and never let him go.

His fingers linger on your cheek, tracing the delicate curve of your jaw and the soft swell of your lower lip.

It was impossible for you not to smile with tenderness, you let your face rest on his thin hand. Then you looked him straight in the eyes, your desire to tease him never completely went away.

"It's so funny how you keep using your fancy talk despite being in this situation," you had to comment, and as expected, the blush returned to his cheeks. Adorable. "Here, take my hair."

Your request was very unexpected.

Viktor blinks in momentary confusion as you hands him your long hair, unsure of your intentions. But as your warm breath ghosts over his sensitive flesh, he quickly forgets his bewilderment, replaced by a surge of anticipation.

He takes the silky strands in his hand, marveling at the weight of them, the way they slip through his fingers. Viktor's heart races as you lean in, your lips parting to reveal the wet heat of your mouth.

And then, you takes him. All of him. Viktor's head falls back against the couch, a strangled moan tearing from his throat as your lips seal around his throbbing cock. The sensation is incredible, unlike anything he's ever felt before. Your tongue swirls around his length, exploring every ridge and vein with a curiosity that borders on reverence.

Viktor's grip tightens on your hair as he fights the urge to thrust into the wet heat of your mouth. He was so overwhelmed, so consumed by sensation. It's terrifying and exhilarating all at once.

His breath comes in short, sharp gasps as you works over his cock, your head bobbing up and down in a steady rhythm. Viktor's never been more grateful for his weakness, for the way his leg keeps him rooted to the spot, unable to move anything but his hips in shallow, aborted thrusts.

You looked at him without stopping sucking at any time, you were hungry for him. You loved seeing him so vulnerable and so pleased by you. In fact, you wanted to give him more pleasure, you wanted to take him to paradise and bring him back.

Viktor's eyes flutter open, hazy and unfocused as he stares down at you. The sight of you, so hungry and eager, your lips stretched around his throbbing flesh... was almost too much to bear. His breath comes in harsh, ragged pants as you continues your assault, your tongue and lips and the wet, sucking heat of your mouth pushing him closer and closer to the edge. Viktor's fingers tighten almost painfully in your hair, his hips jerking and stuttering as he fights the urge to lose himself completely.

Your eyes meet his, intense and filled with a passion that makes his heart race.

His balls draw up tight, his cock pulsing and throbbing as his climax approaches, and with a pathetic cry, Viktor comes undone, his release crashing over him like a tidal wave. His cock jerks and pulses as he spills himself into your eager mouth, his fingers tightening almost cruelly in your scalp as he rides out the aftershocks of his intense orgasm.

As the waves of pleasure start to subside, Viktor slowly comes back to himself, his breathing still ragged and uneven. It takes a moment for the reality of what just happened to sink in - he just came, hard and fast, in your mouth, and you just swallowed it.

Viktor was mortified. A deep, blotchy red spread across his pale skin, creeping down his neck and pooling at his collarbone. Each shaky breath he took only seemed to fan the flames of his embarrassment. His hands, usually steady when working on intricate mechanisms, now trembled as they gripped the edge of the couch. When he tried to pull away, mumbling apologies, you stopped him gently but firmly.

Your hand stayed where it was, warm and reassuring, keeping him grounded in the present moment. “No, Viktor,” you murmured softly, your voice calm and soothing, like a balm for his raw nerves.

“I… I’m so sorry,” he stammered, his voice rough and broken. He couldn’t bring himself to look at you, his golden eyes fixed somewhere far away, as though retreating into himself might erase what had just happened. “That was… incredibly inappropriate of me. I couldn’t control myself… I couldn’t…” His voice faltered, fading into a silence heavy with shame.

Without a word, you shifted closer, carefully settling onto his lap. Your presence made him tense at first, but as your warmth seeped into him, you felt his rigid posture begin to soften.

Viktor swallowed hard, his lips trembling as he tried to continue. “I feel so selfish,” he admitted in a hoarse whisper. “I couldn’t hold back… and I couldn’t… I couldn’t give you anything in return. I didn’t—” His words broke off, and he turned his head, as if hiding from you might shield him from his own insecurities. “I’m pathetic.”

Your heart ached at his confession. It wasn’t just his words—it was the weight they carried, the insecurities and self-doubt that had clearly plagued him for years. Without hesitation, you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him into a hug that was firm but full of tenderness, as if trying to hold all the broken pieces of him together.

Your fingers found their way to his messy hair, threading through the soft strands with care. You pressed a kiss to his forehead, lingering there for a moment before pulling back slightly to cradle his face in your hands. His cheeks were still flushed, and his expression was a mix of embarrassment and surprise, but he didn’t resist.

“Viktor,” you said gently, your tone low but filled with conviction. “Look at me.”

He hesitated, his golden eyes darting nervously before finally meeting yours. They were full of hesitation, as if he were bracing himself for judgment. But all he found in your gaze was warmth.

“Do I look like someone who’s disappointed?” you asked, a soft smile tugging at the corners of your lips. Before he could stammer out a response, you continued, your thumbs brushing lightly across his cheeks. “This was our first time trying something like this. It’s normal that it was so… intense. It’s a natural reaction, Viktor, and nothing to feel ashamed of.”

He blinked at you, his confusion evident, but you weren’t done yet. A playful glint sparkled in your eyes as you leaned in slightly closer. “And if I’m being honest,” you added, your voice dropping into a conspiratorial whisper, “I enjoyed every second of it. I’ve been fantasizing about moments like this since the day I met you.”

The way his eyes widened and his blush deepened was almost enough to make you laugh. But instead, you smiled softly, leaning in to brush your lips lightly against his ear. “Besides,” you whispered, your tone teasing but full of affection, “this is only the beginning, pretty boy. We’ve got plenty of time for moments like this.”

His breath hitched at the nickname, and for a moment, he looked completely disarmed. He nodded slowly, his embarrassment still evident, but there was a flicker of trust in his gaze now.

It was then that you noticed the exhaustion etched into his features—the dark circles under his eyes, the slump of his shoulders. It was obvious that he had been working tirelessly, likely pushing himself past his limits, as he always did and confessed to you. And now, after everything that had just happened, the tiredness seemed to weigh on him even more.

“Do you want to cuddle tonight?” you asked casually, though your tone was laced with affection. You already knew the answer. He was exhausted, both physically and emotionally, and he needed rest.

Viktor looked at you, his expression softening into something that resembled gratitude. “Yes… please,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

Without another word, you guided him to lie down with you, pulling him close until his head rested against your chest. His arms hesitated at first before wrapping around your waist tentatively, and you could feel the tension slowly melting away from his body.

As you ran your fingers through his hair and whispered soft reassurances, you felt his breathing slow, syncing with yours. He sighed softly, his entire body relaxing in your embrace. In that quiet, intimate moment, you felt a wave of protectiveness wash over you.

Holding him like this, you silently promised yourself that you would always be there for him. To remind him that he didn’t have to face his insecurities alone, that he didn’t have to be perfect to be loved. He was enough—just as he was. And as he drifted off to sleep, you knew he felt it too.

The first rays of dawn began to filter through the windows of Viktor's home. The atmosphere, which had been warm and charged with intensity, was now tinged with a calmer, more reflective silence.

Both of you lay together on the sofa, your bodies entwined and your breaths synchronized. Viktor rested against you, his face buried in your hair, his fingers tracing abstract patterns along your back as if trying to memorize every detail of this moment.

"I never thought..." he began, his voice barely above a whisper.

You lifted your head to look at him, the light in his eyes still a mix of disbelief and tenderness.

"Never thought what?" you asked softly, your fingers brushing against his jawline.

"I never thought I’d need this as much as I do now." His confession was simple yet heavy with meaning. His barriers had fallen, at least with you, and you both understood the weight of that.

You smiled, feeling how deeply those words resonated within you. There was something profoundly beautiful about seeing someone like Viktor—so used to solitude and sacrifice—allow himself this kind of vulnerability.

"We all need something, Viktor. Even you." Your tone was gentle but firm, making it clear you wouldn’t let him retreat behind his mask of self-reliance again.

Viktor nodded but said nothing more. Instead, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to your forehead, his lips warm and steady. It was a simple gesture but full of quiet affection, a language you were both beginning to understand.

As the hours passed, you talked about mundane and profound things, from his advancements to favorite books. The walls of Viktor’s home, which had once felt so empty, now carried an unexpected warmth—a spark neither of you was willing to extinguish.

Before you left, Viktor reached for your hand, his grip gentle but firm.

"I don’t know how to fit this into my life… with you," he admitted. His words were sincere, almost fearful, but his gaze said something else: he wanted to try, and for the first time, he was willing to open that door.

You looked at him, and with a calm smile, you squeezed his hand.

"You don’t have to figure it all out right now. Just… don’t close the door before seeing what’s on the other side."

And with that, you left his house, though not without one last look that spoke more than words ever could.

[haveihitanerve]

all Sfth fans I beg of you, watch AJ translating Luke's czech speech about teaching badgers* to play hockey- its the most ridiculous thing in the world and i love it so much

A-I-say-the-first-thing-that-comes-to-mind-without-hesitation-J

and

Luke-I-will-act-out-every-single-fucking-moment-like-I-want-an-oscar-manning

are a deadly combination and honestly everything about it was peak

at the beginning Luke looking at Sam and Tom to see who's doing it and Tom refusing to stand so its his job now

"Aj here speaks fluent Czech" Sam just being a lil shit, love to see it. even when they're obviously making jokes he has to be annoying and i love it

Luke beginning to speak "czech" and AJ already ruining it- Tom's little smirk of "oh this should be fun"

Sam being done and just rubbing his face in resignation

AJ being proud of himself "Hello dostakya"

"i -have, slept with before??" Tom's disappointed dad laugh and nose pinch. and sams head hang

AJ grinning bc he thinks hes so funny(he is)

Luke managing to not break and just standing there with an "I will murder him" face

Tom looking in the direction in which "dostakya" was thrown

"and that was how we slept together" Tom's disappointed head shake even as he laughs

aj's pride

Tom's grin at Luke "playing hockey" bc he knows AJ will have to translate the grunts somehow

"like that" Tom's genuine burst of laughter. I love it sm

"thhhhree? years it took dovosky" why does he change the name? no one knows

Tom actually losing it at "king of england"

aj also breaking slightly. just enough that its adorable

luke looking at him once with a "dafuq" look just to ask what on earth did you turn this plot into

luke's whole badger thing

"he rep-" breaks everyone and its the best part

"he replied in beaver" "beav-beaver?" from sam bc AJ literally its a badger what-

Sam leaning forward for a better look at Luke's beaver/Czech man interaction

AJ losing it with his classic hand over the mouth like a victorian widow learning of shocking news

"i-uh-" Luke's side eye at Aj

"Suddenly understood what he was saying!" Luke loosing it

AJ just abandoning everything and going on a monologue when Luke hasn't mimed this much yet but wtv it eats

"That is what happened." Thank you AJ.

Aj's imitation of Luke's distress. All of it was perfect

*while breaking so much he actively bends backwards to hold in his laugh(and then laughs)*

Sam questioning AJ when they sit down again

and thats the whole video and my fav parts thanks for bearing witness to my madness :)

[izzabela]

Hello!! Soo the most interesting part of my day today is that I got my pants caught on something which ripped my pants so it gave me an idea of what would each of the Lin Kuei brothers would do if their girlfriend/wife approached the embarrassment that their pants were ripped? 😂😂

Apple Bottom Jeans - Lin Kuei x fem!reader (headcanons)

in which you rip your pants in front of each of the boys

a/n: HOW DOES THAT HAPPEN

ship[s]: bi han, tomas & kuai liang x fem!reader

warning(s): ripped pants, post-story kanon

Bi Han

- i genuinely believe he would be the one laughing out loud. why? have you seen him?

- if it takes a lot for him to give praises, i believe it takes a lot more for him to laugh- this seals the deal

- "Bi Han! Help!" you'd cry out, and he'd come running to find your knees touching each other as they face inwards. His eyes would find your hands covering the huge rip on your bum, and your pretty, cotton, everyday panties peeking through

- he'd then trail to the bits of thread that come off your pants, then to the nail that holds the rest of the fabric that came off your butt

- i think he'd have a comic book moment. the moment where the character looks at the other character, back to the problem, then back to the character

- Bi Han would have the deepest, yet whole-hearted laugh of all his brothers. you want to be mad at him, really, you do. how can you with the sound of his timbre voice reverberating in your body with joy? you'd roll your eyes for sure, chuckling with him too

- i think it would make you sad, though. not the situation you were in, but the fact Bi Han doesn't laugh often. not when his only family has left him, and you're the only thing he has left from that bygone time

- after the laugh, though, he'd definitely scold you. something along the lines of "i told you that you wore those bottoms out", or "you missed an opportunity to replace them"

- if you, reader, don't care about the pants, he'd listen to you and toss them out in a heartbeat. if you did like those pants, he'd do his best to get a servant to fix them

- worst case scenario is that he'd have to find the exact brand of pants you wore

- still, he'd go great lengths to cover you up so you'd have some dignity left. he'd take off that outer layer of his uniform and drape it over you, and it'd do the job well because he's two heads taller than you

- if you try to remind him that he laughed, he'd literally deny it til his death

- still, even as he denies it all, you know he's thinking about it when he looks away from you and his left eyebrow (yes, you studied his facial expressions) is quirked up roughly ten degrees

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tomas

- he'd be the most flustered out of the three

- raised in cultures that regard women to a high standard (slavic traditions of the Czech Republic and the Lin Kuei), he'd put you first for sure. not without feeling embarrassed, if not more, for you

- "Tomas!" you screech from your shared room of Harumi's compound. "Tomas, you get here this instant!"

- he'd show up from a fissure of smoke, face scrunched up in worry as he assesses the situation. you're panicked, and he needs to remain calm or else you'll panic more

- he'd actually find the piece of fabric that ripped off. it'd probably be hooked on a splintered piece of wood from the side-wall of the tatami door. taking it, he'd foolishly look around your bum and leg area to find the rip

- "Hey!" you'd giggle-screech. "Don't be a perv!"

- i think Tomas would be very sad and borderline offended you'd think of him like that. he'd give you a look, that's for sure, and he'd continue to quietly assess your circumstance

- only when he finds the little frills of your lacy undies will he turn the deepest shade of pink possible on the human body. he'd flail around like a fish out of water, stuttering and finding something to cover you

- he'd drape you in a blanket, the one on your bed. then he'd pick you up and toss you right back into the pillowy mattress. he'd rush out and find one of Harumi's handmaidens (or Harumi herself) and discreetly tell her about the situation

- your replacement clothes for the meanwhile would be a kimono, similar to Harumi's. as you'd get changed, Tomas doesn't look at you one bit

- "I am ashamed to have looked..." Tomas pouts from behind the dressing screen. "I apologize, feather..."

- even as he tries to get you new pants, he can't help but think about the situation he was in. he would associate those specific pants to that situation- always

- and unlike Bi Han, you'd hold this shit over his head until the day he dies

- you'd egg him like "remember when my pants ripped and you were hiding from me?" or "remember when you threw me into bed because of my pants?"

- yeah, he would be the one more embarrassed than you. he wouldn't be living it down, either, until the day he died

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kuai Liang

- Kuai might be the most normal in terms of reaction, unfortunately. not without a good chuckle, though

- "Kuai Liang! A little help here, please!" you'd call for him from the living room of Harumi's compound. he'd rush to you almost instantly, definitely wondering why you remain sitting there when there was nothing or no one to be hosted

- "You are just... sitting..." Kuai Liang obviously notes. So much for a seasoned warrior, then again you were really just sitting

- it isn't until he walks behind you a bit, realizing that there is a reason why you're not getting up

- he'd see your hands failing to cover a hole that was right over the middle of your pants

- then, he'd see the bit of fabric that's being held by a splinter in the wooden floor of the room. he'd catch a glimpse of your panties, the color not all too difficult to miss

- "Do you think we can salvage this?" you'd ask him. Kuai Liang would give it to you straight

- "I do not believe I can, dove..." Kuai Liang says softly, kissing your forehead as an additional apology

- this is probably the most awkward situation in your life. since the pants were stuck to the ground, and you didn't want to rip it anymore, Kuai Liang basically carries you out of your pants

- with the help of a handmaid that held your pants legs down, Kuai Liang carries you by your armpits as he gently guides you to shimmy, shake, and maneuver out of your pants

- he'd praise you, a lot. things like "good job" and "thank you for listening to me" or "you did a great job listening", it'd make you very happy despite the loss of a good piece of clothing

- Kuai Liang would also order you new pants. you didn't even get to mention it before Kuai Liang had sent another handmaiden out to a nearby village to find similar, if not, the exact same pants as the ones you ripped

- and the gentleman he is, he would not speak of this day ever again. however, every time he sees you in those pants, he will chuckle to himself

- so in reality, he was speaking about it, just nonverbally

=====================

so easy that i finished this in thirty minutes

also update! i got a new job and actually love it there. everyone is so kind and helps me out

also, i love the headcanon ideas you guys are giving me, keep it up! you might see more of those get published first before i do actual fics

see y'all in the next fic!

[tired-demonspawn]

seen a few plp on my timeline sharing their language's dub stobotnik moments

so! because i recently did watch all 3 movies in the czech dub while making extensive notes, here are a few stand outs :D!:

starting off strong with the mouthgrab scene. first of all i would like to establish that agent stone generally uses very formal and grammatically correct language.

however! while saying "everyone else is stupid" he uses very informal versions of the words, which are employed by robotnik constantly throughout the movie. it makes it crystal fucking clear that they have, in-fact, had this conversation before and he is just quoting him verbatim.

also everyone else is stupid is replaced with "snýst že ostatní sou blbý"(endure that everyone else is stupid) which idk why but it sounds more fruitier to me.

moving on, instead of “i love the way you make them!” he yells “i [adore/love] your lattes” (zbožňuju tvý latté!)

"do some rock-onnaissance" - "vyšutři to"(šutr - word for stone, vyšetřit - investigate) whoever came up with that is a legend and i love them.

guy that calls stone a freak, calls him "vole" which is a swear. straight up. pg movie btw. (there are worse swears out there but it still took me off guard)

while playing makeover, stone says "dokonalá nová imidž, sekáč." meaning "perfect new look, [slang for someone being particularly handsome]" which is INSANE.

while citing the manual, he cites the exact page number ("návod strana 50"), bro really memorised everything in that thang including the page numbers

instead of an HR complaint robotnik basically says they(TM) will send OSHA after him 💀("no skvěle, ještě na mě kvůli vám přijde inspekce bezpečnosti práce") weirdly enough it seems hes addressing team sonic, not stone. because if it was stone he was talking to, he would be using the formal you for him, which he never does throughout this entire movie series.

that leads me to the conclusion he’s using "vám" as a plural you instead of a formal you and is blaming team sonic for making the robot shake in a way that hurt stone. do with this information what you will.

moving onto movie 3, instead of "egg-sact my revenge" he says "snesu na něj pomstu jak slepice vejce"(i’ll lay revenge on him like a hen lays an egg) and then stone smiles :) he doesn’t have to go "see what I did there.", he just laughs at his jokes unprompted, hes so in love :)

“tady je”(here it is) instead of “found some” followed by “je mazaný”(“he’s sly” HELLO?????? WDYM BY THAT?????) as “resourceful” is doing things to me and i hope it does things to you too.

BRO SAYS “to je přesně náš vztah”(that’s exactly our relationship) INSTEAD OF “THAT’S EXACTLY WHAT WE ARE” VZTAH, while yes meaning any kind of relationship, AND ESPECIALLY THE WAY MY DUDE IVO HRBÁČ(stone's VA, kinda poetic someone called Ivo voices him, innit?) SAYS IT, HAS SUCH A ROMANTIC FUCKING CONNOTATION ISTG. FRUITY ASS MF.

also something to mention! my guy ivo(the VA) gives this role his all, or at least significantly more than the other VAs. from him really yelling in that booth both "he's baaaaccckkk!!!!" and "doctor! take me with you!" through the soft way he says "i can't lose you again" to my personal favourite(which made me get up from my chair and walk around my room for a bit to cool off): him sounding like he's on the verge of tears with "goodbye doctor".

Am i biased? yes. but im also correct in my assertion of him being the absolute highlight of this entire dub. so.

anyway that's that, thanks for reading :)

[itsagrimm]

What is a Russian Character and How to write them

As @sarapaprikas-blog and I were working on this post, we noticed a gap of knowledge and public perception that we want to address. Plenty of characters get labelled as Russian in media without necessarily being Russian. On the other hand the Archetypal ”Russian” character often does not mirror the realities of being Russian. We are to talk about that.

What is Russia?

Russia is a country. It is the largest country in the world with over 140 million inhabitants, stretching over 11 time zones. It is often seen as the successor state to the Soviet Union, which in itself was the successor state of the Russian Empire. The Soviet Union and Russia do not have the same borders or government. However, modern Russia draws a lot from its history as the largest and dominant part of the Soviet Union. Before the Soviet Union, the area was governed by the Russian Empire. The Russian Empire, as the name already indicates, was imperialist. The history as an Empire with massive expansion, colonies and conquering different people, is arguably the biggest reason why modern Russia is as big as it is today.

What is Russian?

There is a difference between the language Russian, the ethnicity Russian, and the nationality Russian. In English the difference can be made out only by context. 

Who is Russian?

As aforementioned, there is a difference between Russian (Россиянин) meaning citizen of Russia, and ethnically Russian (Русские). The term Russian (Русские) usually refers to ethnicity, indicating a person who has Russian roots. Russian (Россиянин) implies Russian citizenship, regardless of ethnicity. Thus, a Russian can be someone with Russian citizenship, but not all Russian citizens are Russians in the ethnic sense. Also, not all ethnic Russians have Russian citizenship or live within Russia.

Ethnic-Russians are an East Slavic people. Obviously, they mainly live in Russia. But there are also large communities in Ukraine, Kazakhstan, Belarus, Latvia, Lithuania, and other countries. The traditional religion among Russians is Orthodox Christianity. The main language is Russian.

The country Russia is home to more than 190 ethnicities, including indigenous and autochthonous people, leading to a variety of languages, religions and practiced cultures. So, someone who holds a Russian citizenship, has ethnic Russian heritage and / or speaks Russian, can look very different than the cliche Russian bond girl or evil-doer indicates. That also means that those who get labelled Russian can live very different lives. Writing a Russian character gives you a lot of room outside of the prevalent stereotyped depictions.

Who is not Russian?

Simple - those who say they are not Russian, are not Russian.

Who are Slavs? What is Slavic? 

The slavic people are a variety of people, ethnically Russian people are part of that group. However, there are a lot of other ethnic groups that are Slavs without being Russian e.g. Poles, Sorbs, Czech, Ukrainians, and many more. Slavic is the corresponding adjective to Slavs. It is often used to describe the indo-Slavic language group. Slavic is also often used to describe the collectively perceived similarities of Slavic peoples' culture. However, that can be misleading and get’s often orientalised as not everything from Eastern-Europe or Russia is slavic.

Russian vocabulary Да - Yes Нет - No Привет - Hi Здравствуйте - Hello Как дела ? - How are you? Хорошо - Good Пожалуйста - Please Не за что - my pleasure  До свидания - Goodbye Пока - bye  Увидимся - See you later Хорошего дня - Have a nice day Простите - I'm sorry. (Plural or honoured addressee) Помогите, пожалуйста. - Help me please. (Plural or honoured addressee) Доброе утро - Good morning Доброй ночи - Good night. Добрый день - Good day / afternoon.

Pet names in Russian About pet names. They are either masculine of feminine . Please don't use words like darling, kitten, baby, pretty, sweetie, little one, little fox, etc. as they sound really strange in translation to native speakers. Pet names are common for close ones (family, close friends, spouses). Sometimes primary school teachers call students by affectionate names. Also sweet old lady may call you ( Дорогой/ Дорогая). But outside of that nobody calls each other by pet names, only using names because Russians are very reserved and private people in general. Gender neutral pet names: жизнь моя - my life солнце мое - my sun or my sunshine  ты мое все - you my everything. лучик - sunray. мое сокровище - my treasure.  мое золотце - my gold or sweetheart. моя любовь - my love. ты моя радость - you are my joy. ангелочек - Angel. прелесть моя - my precious.

Queerness and gender-neutral speech in Russian Being queer in Russia is hard as queers face oppression. Because of that, there is limited to no public discourse on how to adapt and diversify the language to include queer and especially non-binary identities. This is a problem as the Russian language is extremely gendered and expresses a gender binary in near default. While gender neutral pronouns in Russian exist, it's harder to use them in real life as the neutral pronoun “оно” is mostly associated with things or animals and not living humans, similar to the English “it”. Often words generally do not have gender neutral alternatives.  However, one way we suggest for a more gender neutral speech is to avoid most explicit gendering as the flexible syntax in combination with using plural pronouns in Russian allow for more gender neutral speech. For Example: Я люблю их всем моих сердцем - I love them with all my heart. Расскажи мне о них! - Tell me about them.  Дай им время- give them time. Я горжусь ими - I'm proud of them.  Они сделает это сами  -  they do it themselves. Read more about queerness in Russia here: one two three four

Russian swearing                             In Russia, swearing is considered a sign of rudeness and poor manners. Use accordingly. Also, as mentioned here, Russian syntax and inflection are different from English. Meaning one word can be a whole sentence. We punctuated every swearing that is technically a whole sentence and therefore can stand on its own grammatically. Блять - fuck Пошел нахуй. - fuck you  Хуй - dick Пизда - cunt Мы в пизде. - we are fucked / “We are stuck in the cunt.” Ебать - fuck Ахуел. - are you/they crazy?! Это пиздец. - this fucked up Мудак - asshole  Завали ебало. - shut the fuck up Сука - bitch Черт - damn Непизди. - stop fucking lying. / Cut your bullshit. Пиздобол - Person who lies a lot/ Don't lie  Мамку твою ебал. - i fucked your mom (mostly used by middle schoolers, here in grammatically masculine gender.) Заебись. - holy shit (could be bad or good depend on situation) Похуй! - I don't fucking care. Навешать пиздюлей - to beat up someone. Срать тебе в рот -  To crap in your mouth. Ты ебанулся. - Are you batshit crazy. Заебал. - I'm sick of you. Жопа - ass. Иди в баню. - soft version of Иди нахуй.

Explanation of the Russian Naming System & Patronyms

The Russian naming system consists of three main elements: first name, patronymic and last name. Name: This is the first name given to a child at birth. In Russia, the names are chosen by the parents or relatives of the child. Names can be both traditional (Alexander, Anna, Ekaterina) and modern (Sofia, Victoria, Yaroslav). Patronymic: this is the second name, which reflects the child's origin from his father. Some cultures in Russia also use the mothers name. The patronymic name among Russian people arose in the 10th - 11th centuries and was used infrequently at first, but became widespread around the 16th century. It is formed by adding the suffix "-ovich" or "-aries" to the father's name. For example, if the father's name is Ivan, then his child Ivan or Ivanna will be called Ivan Ivanovich or Ivanna Ivanovna. Last name: This is a family surname that is passed down from generation to generation. It is usually assigned at birth and does not change without special circumstances. Surnames can come from various sources, such as profession, place of residence, origin, or personal characteristics. As a result, a person's full name consists of a first name, a patronymic (if applicable) and a last name, for example: Ivan Ivanovich Petrov.

How to respectfully address a person in Russian. In Russian there are two ways to address someone. Using the polite you (Вы) amd using the formal you (Ты). The choice of mode depends on how well you know the other person and whether you are superior or inferior in terms of age and social position. If you know the person's first name you refer to them by first name and patronymic. For examples: Борис Юрьевич, Ваши рабочие отлично справились с ремонтом- Boris Yurievich, your workers did a great job with repairs. Adults never address a person by name, only by surname or patronymic unless the addressee gives permission to address them in an informal manner. Regulations of most military require their members address each other in formal you( Вы ); subordinates address commanders as товарищ (comrade) + rank , while higher ups address subordinates by military rank and surname. Example: [Colonel to Sgt. Sidorov] Сержант Сидоров, ко мне! Sergeant Sidorov, front and center! [sgt. Sidorov to colonel] По вашему приказанию прибыл, товарищ полковник! Reporting for duty [lit. arrived at your (pl.) request], comrade colonel! Military men sometimes use same forms of address, albeit in singular, in friendly conversation. Example: Сержант, дай сигарету. - Give (sing.) me a cigarette, Sarge. Military hierarchy in Russia You can find useful links here. One Two

[sxftcloudz]

Viktor Arcane c.ai bot

📓| Warmth on a cold day

A/N: Hello! This is my first time posting a Viktor bot, but I tried to be as accurate as possible with his character :D

Synopsis: Viktor has grown used to the long walks home and to the Academy alone. However, he was a bit lonely at times when it came to those quiet days. That all changed when Jayce hired you as his and Viktor’s new lab assistant. Viktor was hesitant at first when it came to new people being involved in their work, but he slowly grew to trust you. He was even a bit happy when he learned that you lived near him and walked on the same path as him. One day, it was snowing while you guys were walking and Viktor forgot to grab something to keep himself warm. He was a bit shocked when you suddenly wrapped a scarf around his neck, feeling very surprised that you would give someone like him something nice.

Greeting is below the cut for anyone interested in using this bot (:

Walking, something that Viktor did not like. It was not only because of the pain from his malformed right leg he was born with, but also the far walk to the Academy from his apartment in Piltover. He always left early in the morning to give himself time to clear his head, but he felt alone on the journey there each time, even though he would never admit it. That all changed when his work partner, Jayce, acquired an assistant for them. At first, he was hesitant to trust a stranger with their research, but he came to quickly find out how you were a bright and talented individual who had a goal like his of improving lives.

Once he warmed up to you, he would often explain about his work with Hextech to you, especially after you told him that you were interested in learning more about what he works on. It was a nice change of pace to have someone be interested, considering that a lot of the work he did was credited to Jayce. He later found out when talking to you and walking home from the academy that you lived near him. The next morning, he soon would no longer have that lonely feeling anymore when you were there by his side on the walk to the Academy.

One morning, it was already snowing by the time that you and Viktor were on your walk. He did not mind the light snowflakes falling on his skin and his clothes. However, he was slightly shivering from not grabbing anything to keep himself warm before he left. He suddenly felt something wrap around his neck and looked down to find a colorful scarf.

“y/n, what is this?” He asked with his Czech accent being strong as always while he looked at you with confusion in his amber eyes. He obviously knew it was a scarf, but he was puzzled as to how you conveniently had one for him. He was also not used to random acts of kindness with growing up in Zaun and being separate from people, so he was a bit suspicious of why you would be so kind to a reserved person like him.

[alpinelogy]

I think one of the guys on comms just called hirt hirťa… which is him making a friendly nickname out of his last name hello what

[whoa-an-mcyt-blog]

NVM EVERYONE, THERE'S A WORLD DOWNLOAD NOW

as per my previous post, i must tell you that the mediafire link finally had something! it was a download to a minecraft world. the world is in 1.11, btw, because we cannot escape the 11. the following are all my screenshots:

the world is mostly just a patch of a spruce forest floating in the air. it reminds me a lot of the weird chunks of world you can see in 11 or window.

there's a book in the center of the world titled "0", and when you open it, it reads this:

hey! hey uh, are you hurt? … hello? are you alive? … oh my gosh… groan h-hey! you're alive! what happened? are you hurt? shriek woah- hey, it's ok, i'm here to help- w-who are you? i'm here to help, here, stand up, let me see you. does anything hurt? you look pretty beat-OH … i'm sorry dear, here, you can take my jacket, cover up with that. you must be freezing… t-thank you um, what hurts? it looks like you've taken a beating… uh… i don't know can you walk? yes. okay okay, here, come with me, my house is just down the road a bit ok you can warm up there, and i'll uh, i'll call the doctor. you can rest for a while. uhm there, there you go. we can go slowly if you need. let's get you out of this weather. how long have you been out here? …i don't know you don't know? no… i'm sorry no, thats alright don't worry. uhm, lets just get you warmed up. we'll be there in just a few minutes. … … …thank you, s-sir

(the words are colour-coded depending on the person speaking)

ivory is possibly the one that's hurt here, but i have no idea who the other person could be. probably someone that going to be in the video today.

and finally, if you go down to the void there's a secret chest with a book and quill inside that just reads "s".

this is possibly leading to another youtube link eventually? idk.

one final note: the file in mediafire is listed as being from the czech republic. ivory has used czech in some of her song names. i have no idea if this is significant but it is something to mention.

[matan4il]

Hello hello, sending hugs as always!

I was hoping you maybe be able to give me some inspiration for a small series of food photos I'm assembling for Channukah! I'm doing an 8 part series celebrating the different groups within Judaism to 1. Be loudly and proudly Jewish at this current time, and 2. raise awareness for non-ashki Jews. In the UK it's super hard to find many non ashki peeps which makes it hard to chat to people about other classic Channukah foods, but I was wondering if you knew of any particularly good ones (that aren't latke or sufganiyot)? Would hugely appreciate any suggestions you have!!

Hi darling, sending you the biggest hugs right back! <3

Oooh, Hanukkah foods! I'm not gonna lie, some of my fave Jewish foods come from this holiday. With your permission, I'll give a small introduction, just for anyone reading, who might be unfamiliar with Hanukkah, and curious... and also talk about some of the lesser known Hanukkah food traditions among European Jews, too.

So during Hanukkah, we celebrate a miracle that happened with the oil at the Temple in Jerusalem. After the Jews defeated the occupying Greek forces that had desecrated our Temple, we wanted to light again the eternal flame of the Menorah (the Temple candelabra) with olive oil, but after the destruction caused by the Greek forces, there was only enough left for one day, and it would take 8 days to get more oil. The miracle is that somehow, that small amount of oil lasted for the whole 8 days, meaning the light didn't go out again. To remember this miracle, we eat food fried in oil! Being Jewish is so good for your health. XD

In shops and bakeries around Israel, there are already sufganiot being sold. They are YUMMY, and while some people call them "the Jewish donuts," I can say that after having eaten American donuts, I def think sufganiot are way yummier (in part 'coz they're not as "heavy" because the dough it's made of is fluffier? More... airy? Not sure how to say it, but I hope you get the idea). Also, you don't get robbed, because someone made a hole in the middle of the sufgania, taking out nearly half of it. The traditional type has strawberry jam injected inside, and sugar powder on top, but in Israel there are some crazy fancy kinds, and every year they seem to become more extravagant.

Traditional sufganiot (you can see a bit of the jam on top, but half the fun is biting and getting to the "treasure" of lots of jam at the center of the sufgania):

Fancy sufganiot:

Then there's the latkes, or as they're called in Hebrew, levivot. They're like savoury pancakes made out of potatoes, and obviously they're fried in oil.

In many Jewish communities, there was a custom of giving kids special pocket money for Hanukkah. In Israel, this "money" is given in the form of chocolate "coins." I freaking loved this as a kid! It was fun unwrapping the "coins," eating the chocolate, and then (assuming I was careful when peeling them off), make a collection of the different "coins," or just play with the wrap.

Greek Jews used to make a bread from potatoes and yogurt:

Georgian Jews made levivot out of corn flour (sometimes filled with cheese), or out of potatoes AND nuts, giving it the shape of a big omelette. Here's the corn flour version:

Czech Jews had a custom saying goose is the best meat, so for Hanukkah, they often ate goose related dishes. For example, they would make levivot from potatoes, eggs, sugar, lemon and goose fat.

French and Swiss Jews would make levivot out of apples.

The Jews of Iraq, Algeria and Buchara (which is in Uzbekistan) used to put the Hanukkah pocket money for the kids inside honey cakes. In Algeria and Buchara they also sometimes made levivot with meat added inside.

The Jews of Romania and Austria used to light potato Hanukkah candles! This was likely because they were so poor. Still, a pretty cool thing, when you can light your candle, and eat it (or at least a part of it), too.

In northern Africa, Jews used to make a type of cookie called Debla (sometimes nicknamed "dough roses"), which originated in Libya. They're usually eaten with a sweet syrup. It's more of a Purim dish (the equivalent of Hamantaschen), but was sometimes prepared for Hanukkah as well. Traditional Debla:

And a slightly "fancier" Israeli version:

Okay, maybe my fave Hanukkah dish! It's called sfinge (the 'ge' is pronounced like in "sponge"), and it's basically the Moroccan sufgania, which later became popular among Tunisia and Libya Jews, too. It can be round with a hole in the middle, it can be in the shape of a ball, while Libyan Jews make it flat. It's eaten with either honey or sugar powder, but again, in Israel fancier versions developed... I'm not a great cook, so IDK to explain why, but it's even fluffier than the sufgania, and that's why it's my personal fave.

Traditional sfinge with honey:

With sugar powder:

Israelis always having to make everything fancier:

They even made a savoury version of flat sfinge...

I hope this helps! Have a wonderful day, darling! xoxox

[willvoiceit]

Hello there, it's me, the drunk person from last night. Sorry for bothering you, I was celebrating my father's birthday and I ended up crashed like all Nine Hells. Thank you for not shooing me away though, it is very kind of you.

If you still want to, of course, if not that's okay, my father's name is Paul in English or Pavel in Czech, if you want.

Thank you again for you response though, you are such a nice guy it's unbelievable.