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#viktor

@undyingvik

“Viktor.” Yves shakes the man in an attempt to wake him up. “Viktor. Wake up.” Once the man finally starts showing symptoms of life, Aphrodite’s son steps back and holds his hands stretches out — his presentations stance. “What do you think?” Yves asks, showing off the clothes he raided from Viktor’s closet. It’s the cheapest, shittiest fashion (if one can even call it that) he’s ever worn in his life. The track suit is Adidas and way too big. As are the cheap, rubbery slippers he has on his socked feet. “It’s like looking in a mirror, isn’t it?”

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En “El hombre en busca del sentido” de Viktor Frankl, el autor va haciendo diariamente un análisis detallado de cada prisionero que llegaba al Holocausto. Intentaba llevar un diario del pensar y sentir de cada judío, desde su llegada a los campos de exterminio y tortura, semana tras semana, hasta los meses que llegaron a sortear quienes lograron librarse y caminar por praderas con flores y hierbas aledañas a los perversos campos de concentración.
Quizás a la pasada, se leyó campos de exterminio y torturas, y se nos pasó por alto frenar a remarcar exterminio y tortura, y sí, dice eso, tortura y exterminio. Tortura y exterminio, entre otras cosas, fueron los padecimientos de los detenidos que hasta allí eran acarreados por el ejército nazi.
Viktor Frankl, pasó por varios centros de este tipo, incluido el campo de concentración de Auschwitz..
Analizando desde su lado del oficio de psiquiatra, iría tomando notas mentales de cómo iban sucediendo los hechos, cómo eso influía en la mente de un judío, en la suya y en la de los soldados nazis. Él notaba que apenas llegados, los prisioneros querían morir, pero con la superación de ese primer día, sus pensamientos y sentimientos irían modificándose; dependiendo de cómo encontrara cada uno, la búsqueda de ese sentido, el sentido de estar con vida.

Frankl notaba que ellos podían encontrar arte en las pequeñas cosas de la vida, más allá del sufrimiento, como por ejemplo, observar el atardecer o el reflejo de su amigo, en un charco de agua.
Distinto a los judíos, que para ese entonces, caían por miles en las cámaras de gas, Viktor pudo caminar, por las praderas llenas de flores una vez terminada la guerra; y así, pudo notar, que ya nada les conmovía a los recién liberados. Ellos, ya habían visto lo peor de la humanidad y ahora tendrían que buscar nuevamente ese sentido de estar vivos.

Un viajero que por las rutas andaba,
le preguntó a otro, que frente a él frenaba:

-¿qué tan lejos está el próximo Holocausto?,
compinche y camarada.

-¿tortura y exterminio? Pero,
si eso no ha cambiado nada.

¿Y entonces? ¿Adónde está la tortura de hoy día? ¿En qué raro rincón de la realidad (o de la virtualidad) han ocultado nuestro presente Holocaústico? Quizás nuestro presente no sea tan Holocaústico, no vamos a ser tan exagerados, o sí, con estos nunca se sabe. Pero lo que sí pueden hacer con seguridad, es analizarnos cual rata de laboratorio, de un modo frankliano, tomando meticulosamente nota de nuestros pensamientos y sentimientos del día a día cuarentenal. Con eso, les alcanza para comandar este barco de 7 mil millones. Pero… ¿cómo van a saber ellos cómo pensamos, y más difícil aún, saber cómo sentimos!
Quizás, estemos hablando mucho por RRSS. Ahí las paredes escuchan. Cientos de miles de moros custodian día y noche, de lunes a lunes, 24/7 todo el mes, las costas de las RRSS. Desde allí, analizan a los reclusos.
“Ese 1%”, nos observa para saber cómo mover las piezas, observando exhaustivamente individuo por individuo, solamente con acceder a nuestro historial digital.
Y la gran mayoría de nosotros, ingenuamente, le cuenta minuto a minuto, sentir a sentir, pesar a pesar, mientras el judío Viktor Frankl, toma notas mentales, a merced del mercenario.

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what happens when you and your rp partner go to play a couple hours in Stardew valley :”> 

baviktor
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Imagine Lucian falling in love with you, a white lycan

For @everlastingartist

I really enjoyed writing this so thank you for requesting! Feel free to request a part 2! x

This is fem reader, sorry guys

Bold = inner thoughts

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Originally posted by larygosomens

*a year before the war*

(y/n) admired Lucian from afar as commands spilled past his lips with ease. “Alpha squadrant, train the newly turned lycans, we can’t have them going rogue. Beta squadrant, petrol the perimeters, we can’t have any vampires looking into our base. Oh, and delta squadrant, keep tabs on the warehouse on 7th Avenue, rumours are that the vampires are trying to make it theirs” Lucian commanded as he walked round the base slowly making his way to (y/n). “And you” he whispered “just keep looking pretty” he smiled as he sauntered off while the other lycans laughed at (y/n)’s blushing face.

*6 months before the war*


(y/n) folded her laundry as her mind wandered, her thoughts slowly being consumed by Lucian and his oh so strong hands wrapped around her pretty little throa-“ whatcha doing, babydoll?” Purred Lucian as his hands snaked around her hips. “n-n-nothing, sir” she mumbled as her cheeks darkened. “No need for the formalities dear, I believe you and me can be on a first. name. basis” rumbled Lucian, each sentence finishing with a kiss to the neck. “L-Lucian, what do you think you’re do-doing” moaned (y/n), her eyes blending into a darker shade. “Just messing around, kitten” he whispered as he licked a line up her neck.


*3 months before the war*



“So, how comes I’ve never seen you transform into your lycan form, in the 200 years I’ve known you, not once have you transformed” declared Lucian. “Is it a insecurity for you, being a lycan?” asked Lucian, his voice tinged with a hurtful hesistance. “No! I’m not ashamed of my lycan form Lucian. It’s just, something I don’t like to use to my will.” answered (y/n) as she stared out the window. Just as Lucian went to prod her further a bell sounded outside the door. “Ahhh, it seems dinner is ready, will you accompany me my dear?” Asked Lucian as he winked cheekily at her. “Well of course, my love” laughed (y/n) as they both made their way down the hall.

*during the war*


Viktor and Lucian swung at one another as chaos erupted around them. “Why did Selene have to resurrect you!? You serve no purpose in this world!” Screamed Lucian as he dodged a swing from Viktor. “Serving no purpose in this world,me! Ha! You need to rethink your stance on this battle, scum” shrieked Viktor. The battle continued to erupt as vampires and lycans fought for one reason as old as time itself. Both species cannot coexist in peace as long as the other survives. “Just give up already, we’re both descendants of Corvinus, this battle will rage on for an eternity before it finishes!” Screamed Lucian as he lurched for Viktor, the tale of the Corvinus family ringing true in both their ears. “Never will I submit to such a scum of a creature as yourself!” Bellowed Viktor dodging Lucian’s attack. “Why can’t you just submit and die already Viktor, vampires were never meant to rule!” yelled Lucian as he evaded yet another attack from Viktor. “How dare you insinuate that I’m the weaker one of us two?!?! I helped bring you into this world and I’m sure as hell gonna help to take you out of it!?!” screeched Viktor, seething with rage as he lurched forward, slicing through Lucian’s jugular.


All pandemonium came to a halt as both species heard the anguished cries of the lycan elder, ripping through the air like a knife. ‘No not Lucian, he can’t die!’ Thought (y/n) as instinct and adrenaline overtook her body, engulfing her. (y/n) ran towards the screams of her leader, hurtling past the other supernatural beings as her form slowly shifted to that of her lycan. Ice white fur flew by in a hurry as lycans and vampires of the like stopped to look on in awe at the fur of the lycan as she ran towards the one and only man she cared for, Lucian. (y/n) tore through the building until she finally came to a halt, flaring with rage as she caught the ever present smug smirk of Viktor, staring down at Lucian’s broken body as he licked the blood of his hand. “You should have known I was going to defeat you, dog. After all, I am the more powerful elder” cackled Viktor as he danced on the spot, chest practically puffed out in pride.


“Your power as an elder is nothing compared to that of a seething lycan” spat (y/n) as she approached Viktor. Both of the elders were overcome with shock and awe as they caught sight of the alabaster fur on the muscular being. “i-it cannot be, t-there has never been a lycan with fur as pure as yours” mumbled Viktor in disbelief, racking his brain for any logical thoughts. “(y/n), i-is that y-you?” Croaked Lucian, recognising her voice as his body started to drain of its colour, his dance with death coming to an end. “Yes my love, it’s me, and I’m gonna save you if it’s the last thing I do!” Bellowed (y/n), reeling towards Viktor with her teeth and claws bared. Screams were the only sound heard through out the battleground as the lycan tore through the elders body, ripping him apart limb by limb.


Once (y/n) had killed Viktor she rushed to the side of Lucian. “Come on love, please hold on, I’ve got my healers bag with me, I’ve got a blood bag you just need to let me fetch it, please baby, hold on” cried (y/n) as she transformed back to her human state, the cold air nipping at her skin. “Here you go, drink up, please, for me, you promised you weren’t gonna die Lucian, please” wailed the distraught woman. Just as she’d given up hope on her love returning to the mortal world she heard a coughing sound. Turning around she saw Lucian drinking up the blood like a starved child. “Thank you for saving me, my dear” crooned Lucian, his hand wrapping around hers. “Of course, how could I let you die” answered (y/n), tears threatening to spill from her eyes. “Now, how comes you didn’t tell me about your lycan form?, it’s beautiful!” Chuckled Lucian as he stood up, stretching out his body. “You really think so?” Questioned (y/n). “Of course!, now come here” beckoned Lucian, motioning for her to step closer. “Lucian, what are you do-“ her sentence was cut short by a pair of soft lips enveloping her own, arms slowly encircling her waist, (y/n) melted into the kiss as she wrapped her arms around his neck. Pinning after the lycan leader for so long was oh so worth it.

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Hello world, I’d love to introduce you to my newest character I recently hatched. And thanks to a very talented artist I was able to make him come to life.

@bunbundango a very talented and very patient artist who worked with me to make sure I loved every bit of it. Thank you so much for all the hard work you put into him!

He goes by many names. Talroc, Smith, Barr, and Viktor are the most common. Some more… choice names would be The Golem, GateKeeper, and IronForged. Though those names are more whispered than said, and by only those who know of the true events that happened.

Originally left abandoned at the foot of a artificers shop as a baby. Taken in out of pity, he was raised by the Master Artificers in the shop. Taught to be compassionate about his work, firm but carful with his hands, and to take zero shit from anyone. Especially when it came to someone who didn’t know what they were talking about. He spent many years learning rune craft, smithing, alchemy, and magic at the hands of the Masters of the shop.

He went on to hold apprenticeships with ArchMages and Master Smith to perfect his craft. In his journey to find and hone his skills, he took up necessary skills to ensure that he was not only the top of his craft, but to ensure his survival. He even sacrificed his arm to get to where he is today, at least in a fashion he did.

He worked in an official capacity as the Royal Tinkerer and a Volstrucker Agent. Although some paths are more darker than others and he wish not remember them.

Where ever he goes, he is welcome to stay at any forge if their masters have any clue to who he is.

But in his early years, things were not quite the same. Everyone has to start somewhere.

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@bunbundango check her out! She’s amazing! Just look at the details!!!

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hi! i remember reading a one-shot, veela!draco fic, in which d & h were at a party & h was making him jealous by hanging out with cormac all night (could’ve been blaise). she eventually goes to the bathroom & d follows her & scolds her for ignoring him all night. they have sex & he eventually goes full veela (w/ his wings & everything) & h tells him how much she loves it when he does that & that he should stop being so fragile w/ her & treating her as if she could break.

Anyone?

Edit: Thanks!!

freshmuffintreepartyhttps://archiveofourown.org/works/16232630/chapters/37945859 it’s His Veela Heritage: M Rated Outtakes by riverwriter

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afraid to come off anon bc that means i have to post publicly but I got some uncomfortable questions for your characters: - @viktor what was your life like before this? what's your relationship with your vampiric parent? - @black swans what do you like about your captors? - @viktor and adrastos how's ruslan and what's your relationship like? also what are you afraid of? do you know that your respective black swans are crushing on each other and would you exploit that?

Finally got some answers for you, Anon! Life’s been a little unpredictable lately (unsurprisingly), but things are a little more settled now.

Viktor

“Those are rather personal questions, aren’t they?

(I think that’s all you’re getting.)

Etienne & Nikolai

They are sitting at either end of a settee. Nikolai is composed, even withdrawn, with his hands in his lap and his legs only crossed at the ankles. Whereas Etienne has his braced leg stretched out in front of him and his elbow set into the arm of the settee. He looks almost surly.

“I suppose he does let me read from his library. I can’t think of anything else.”

Nikolai casts him a glance, then looks back at his hands, humble. 

“I’m glad that my lord is as kind as he is. I know there are others who can be harsh, even violent, when there’s a punishment needed“ He throws another glance at Etienne. “But perhaps the punishment suits whatever was done.”

Viktor & Adrastos

“He writes to you more than he writes to me. How is he?”

“Quite well, though as wild as ever. He’s still taking in every orphan and wanderer he comes across.”

Viktor scoffs. “He’s a fool.”

“And he thinks you’re rule-bound. But you don’t hate him.”

“No. I just think he’s a fool.”

“Just like any eldest would think of the youngest. I’ve wanted to visit him again. You should come with us. Bring Etienne; he’ll like to see Nikolai. And who knows who else could be up there–another half-mad painter or some lost muse.”

I honestly think they’d ignore any questions about their fears or insecurities. They’re too aristocratic for that kind of questioning. It’s invasive.

And I’m going to let Nikolai answer that last one alone:

“I’m afraid that I…” And he hesitates, looks down at where he’s touching his fingers together. “I know he might feel some kind of affection for me, but I can’t return it. I’m married, you understand. But I do want him to be my friend. He’s the only person who can understand the things we’ve both endured.

“From what my lord has said, we’re already something like cousins. So I hope that we can be friends.”

(Viktor, though, will try to exploit it, almost certainly.

“If nothing else, one can hope that Nikolai will encourage better behavior in Etienne.”)

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