#this things the biggest scale its drawn in in a

[zero-art-or-braincell]

Scars

[madschiavelique]

A Crown Of Ink : Chapter 15 - The Chariot

summary : fiora hosts a party during which reader starts feeling all sorts of new things. between game strategies and open heart conversations, things are starting to look brighter

content warnings : none, werewolf (aka mafia), seven minutes in heaven, heart to heart conversation, omg they're touching hands, jealous viktor if you squint

word count : 14.8k

author's note : oof, biggest chap so far! we've officially exceeded the epic length in terms of wordcount, and the slowburn is finally starting to spark a bit hihi. i'm scared y'all will get bored with the game parts OOPSIE but yea i hope y'all will like it nevertheless!

proofread the pretty boy @oneoftheextras

masterlist．．discord ．．playlist．．my ko-fi

The rest of your stay went much better than you could have imagined. You were undertaking visits, each more friendly and educational than the last, discovering customs and foods, and having a great time that would leave good memories in their wake.

Like when Sky recited phrases in a strong Demacian accent to you, giving credit to Demacia and its imposing stature, or when Jayce made a fool of himself by pronouncing ‘croum de la cram’ wrong again while eating a cream puff in front of a waiter.

Fiora had seemed to slow down her charms towards Viktor on a grand scale, although she still gave him the nickname ‘Vikkie’, which made him roll his eyes to the sky as he searched for you and uttered ‘kill me’ with mute lips.

You always smiled at him when this happened, amused, his eyes resting on you, making you feel all odd. As the days went by, despite the fact that Fiora stayed largely with him and you with Garen, you couldn't help looking for him, lowering your gaze or pretending to look away whenever his eyes crossed yours.

As another day out came to an end and you found yourself in bed, lights out and ready to sleep, you were thinking about it for a long time.

There was this strange urge growing inside you, and you couldn't work out what it was. You kept feeling the heat on the back of your neck as well as on your cheeks as you thought back to all the moments of your close proximity. And that warmth in your belly, that strange, light, fuzzy sensation that persisted in his presence. Why did you feel that way?

Perhaps you were allergic to something Viktor had on him, and you were having a physical reaction to it? 

When you had drunk his coffee where his lips had rested, your whole body had warmed up in the same way after all. He didn't seem to apply any lip balm or add anything to his coffee that might have caused you to have such a reaction, so you ruled that out.

Did he have a particular perfume whose ingredients made you react badly? You remembered the masquerade and his coat, and although it didn't leave any physical traces on you, it did leave slightly stronger inner impressions.

In the wood of his cane, perhaps? Maybe the varnish of the wood or the metal of the knob gave you a bad reaction. But you'd hardly ever used it, the rare occasions being when you'd hit Tyler with it, and when you'd handed it to him after he'd picked you up from your fall in the library - even if some of your symptoms had started at that moment.

Or maybe you were just homesick, maybe the air or the food made you react badly, maybe the petricite was more unpleasant than you thought. However, this idea would have meant suggesting that you had an arcane source inside you, and if that were the case, it would have been pointless since it had never saved you from anything where it could have proved useful.

You replayed the moment of the museum over and over in your mind, the feeling of realisation that he had drawn you towards him with a deft movement of his cane going to your head. You could still imagine the warmth of his hand on your hip, of his eyes on you as they rested on your lips.

You turned in your bed with a grunt of frustration as your chest warmed at the thought of it, burying your face in your pillow. What was happening to you? He wasn't even in the damned room, and yet these symptoms were perfectly awake and persistent. Yet you didn't see him any more than that. 

A routine had set in. Whenever you came back from a class trip, it was his custom to go and rest in his room, away from more walking and to escape Fiora's presence.

Demacia, all white and glorious, didn't seem to have any great inclination towards accessibility. Its cities were built on mountainsides where bridges and domes overlapped over vast, empty, flat expanses. You never got lost, though, as the streets were never narrow and the view was always unobstructed.

It was almost a little frightening, leaving no room for anyone to hide or escape, whatever the situation.

From most angles, Demacia wasn't suitable for everyone, and the lack of benches in the streets for people to sit on, for example, was backed up by the need for an athletic society and sporting encouragement.

So it wasn't surprising that Viktor was keen to get some rest, as you yourself would end your days out on the town tired beyond belief. You hoped his naps were restorative, even if sleep couldn't cure all ills.

Your own sleep came late that night, your thoughts returning incessantly and inevitably to him.

In the early hours of the morning, what finally woke you up was someone knocking on your door. With a grunt, you rolled over in bed, hoping that the idiot who had just knocked would go away.

The knock came again, a sigh from behind the door. "You in there Piltie girl?"

Why did the first voice you had to listen to this morning have to be Fiora's? You turned to face the door, propping yourself up on your elbows.

"Come in," you replied in a voice all hoarse with sleep.

So she entered, energetic and judgmental as ever. The room was dark except for a small nightlight on your bedside table.

"You're still asleep?" she asked, almost mockingly, as she strode over to the blackout curtains in the bedroom and yanked them open.

You pressed the heel of your palms against your eyes, clearing the sleep crusts and sniffling as the sun penetrated your room and slapped your body with its light.

"Why, did I oversleep?" you questioned as you finally lowered your hands to your legs, crossing them.

She squinted her eyes at your face. "You're so ugly when you wake up."

"And you're an asshole all day long, to each his own," you winced as you planted your feet on the floor, the fresh flagstone floor unpleasant and just making you want to crawl back under your blanket and fall back asleep in the warmth of your bed.

"Look at that," Fiora chuckled, "Miss Phathe's not a morning person, who'd have thought it."

The mere mention of Selene's name between her lips made you want to strangle her. "Continue putting dirt on my name and you'll end up at your own funeral," you replied before heading for the bathroom. "You're just one bad day away from being me anyway."

"You know," you heard her giggle as she followed you, leaning in the doorway as she watched you go through your morning routine, "for a Piltie, you sure have a way with comebacks."

"That is because I'm not a Piltie," you replied as you tended to your hair.

"Really?" she questioned, surprised. "What are you then?"

You considered answering her for a moment. There was only today and tomorrow left when you would leave in the evening and arrive in Piltover the following night.

"Zaunite," you finally replied as you picked up your toothbrush, squeezing your tube of toothpaste mechanically, "but from where? Not sure."

She arched an eyebrow as you began to brush your teeth. "Explains the poor taste in everything."

"Explains the sword up your ass," you managed to articulate.

She giggled, smiling into the mirror as she watched you for a moment. It wasn't a look of expectation that you'd screw something up, more a look of consideration.

"You know," she began, "prettying yourself up wouldn't be that complicated."

You huffed, spitting into the sink. "Why would I need it?"

"Not saying you need it," she corrected, "I'm saying it'd be fun."

"Never took much attention to it anyway," you sighed before returning your toothbrush to your mouth, "I'm not trying to charm anyone."

Her eyes rolled up to the sky as if you'd just said the stupidest thing she'd ever heard. "It's not about charming anyone you idiot," she shook her head, "It's about doing this for yourself."

You looked at yourself in the mirror, your tired eyes watching you as she continued.

"If you're applying makeup and pretty dresses for anybody else but you in the first place, that's a bit desperate."

You spat into the sink again, rinsing the bristles from your toothbrush. "Making yourself pretty for someone you like would be desperate?"

"In some cases, no," she admitted, "Like wearing something someone offered you." 

You grabbed one of the glasses of water on the sink, filling it to rinse your mouth.

‘"But I can tell you're negligent of yourself," she continued as she moved forward to stand next to you, "and that's what's bringing you lower than zero." 

You turned to her, thinking the conversation was going to turn negative and immediately demeaning, but her tone wasn't condescending.

"This doesn't just apply to your physique, Zaunite girl," she pointed out, marking the new appellation with her tongue, "but to the way you consider yourself. You want to be number one at all times, but you forget to put yourself first and that is the very reason you're losing."

You sighed - she wasn't wrong. You weren't taking care of yourself, weren't giving yourself enough of the treatment you deserved or simply needed to live. The memories of your fever during exam week and of all the deviations you had made out of greed to win also came back to mind.

You'd put your primary needs to one side, neglected your friendships by walking away from them as soon as you thought you'd done anything remotely negative, and ended up in situations where your health was in danger simply because you unconsciously thought you deserved it or that it was the norm.

And every time, Viktor intervened.

He stayed by your side when you were seriously ill, passed you his coat during the masquerade, persevered in wanting to be your friend and assured you that he didn't think badly of you.

You took a sip of water from your glass to keep it in your mouth and spit, hoping that its coolness would contrast with the heat you felt just thinking about it.

"Any reason for this early morning motivation class?" you asked as you came out of the bathroom to find something to change into,"Or are you about to bring me outside barefoot in the grass while we do some flowy movements for better harmony in our bodies?"

She stood by the bathroom frame, giggling. "No party of mine happens barefoot."

You turned to her, frowning and giving up the search for the day's clothes for the moment. "Party?"

"Yup," she confirmed as she walked over to you, observing the contents of your suitcase. "You guys are leaving tomorrow evening, so I wanted to make sure we'd all have our fun one last time." Her eyes returned to yours. "Tonight, I'm hosting a party in one of the apartments under my name, not far from here. Everyone's invited."

You turned to your suitcase, Fiora's earlier questions about your appearance taking on a second meaning. 

"I've never been to any party before," you admitted as you found what you were going to wear for the day and headed for the bathroom so you could change in privacy, closing the door behind you.

She approached the door, leaning against the wall next to it. "Have you been that much of a fun killer all your life?" she giggled.

"Just never had the opportunity or any invite, alright?" you sighed, tired of her answers which you found a little too dramatic as you undressed. "My first party of the sort was a masquerade I attended this very year which, apart from a few exceptions, had guests that were all toffs twice my age."

"Well, there's a first time for everything," she argued. "It's not going to be anything wild or club-like unfortunately if I have to fit Lolanthe and Heimerdinger's policy of moderate drinking or fun with a capital F."

You'd never really liked clubs -they were too noisy, too dark with lights only provided by neons and drinks that were far too expensive for how they tasted. Zaun's clubs were quite an attraction themselves, but nothing could have convinced you to end in one of them willingly to party and have fun.

"You know," she continued, "that might be an opportunity for you to get closer to Viktor."

The mention of his name stopped you putting on your trousers and nearly made you lose your balance.

"You're still on this," you whispered as you accelerated your dressing. If you wanted to escape this conversation, or her in general, you had to get out of this room.

"Come on," she sneered from the other side of the door, "have you never ever thought there could be something between the two of you?"

You stood there motionless, your eyes landing back on you in your mirror. Could anyone fall in love with this reflection you saw? Could anyone be charmed by it?

You'd never really had time to think about the possibilities of having a relationship with anyone, since your attention was mainly focused on your studies, but could there really have been a possibility of someone falling in love with you and you being able to return that love?

"You're taking an awfully long time to answer this," Fiora toned from the other side.

You opened the door, not even glancing at her as you walked purposefully to your suitcase and arranged it a little. "I never wondered about it."

She huffed exaggeratedly. "Viktor didn't answer like that."

Your heart skipped a beat as you turned to face her. "What?"

"A-ha!" she exclaimed, pointing at you as you realised her little trap. "See? You're interested in him."

You huffed, trying to calm your mind and your heart. She was only trying to elicit a reaction from you, nothing more, nothing less. Wasn't she?

You caught yourself thinking about the possibility that she had actually asked him the question, and wondered whether her remark was a complete lie or whether there was some truth in it. Your heart felt cramped in your chest.

"Whatever," you sighed as you set your suitcase down on the floor again, the box of your tarot cards sticking out slightly from under one of your T-shirts, and you decided that you would wait until evening to read your card.

She didn't press the point any further, realising that she probably couldn't get any more information out of you at the moment. "Have you ever played Werewolf, Zaunite girl?"

"Werewolf?" you questioned.

"You really have come out of a cave," she remarked, "I feel like I'm babysitting."

"Well why are you doing all this effort for me then?"

"Because I want us to find a way to get along at least once, alright?" she finally admitted. "I'm trying to make up for what I pulled on you. Is party-fun forbidden in Piltover?’

You sighed, she was doing it very awkwardly of course, but that didn't stop her original intention from being almost touching, honourable.

"It's not forbidden to me, just... foreign," you admitted.

"Would you like to try it, though?" she asked.

You chewed your cheek, considering this most unusual offer. Was there any harm in trying? You wouldn't gain anything but the usual if you refused this offer and stayed in your room reading a book. You already did that every night, after all, so why not give it a try?

"Come on," she hummed, arching an eyebrow with a playful little smile, "I know Viktor will come if you do."

Your eyes rolled up to the ceiling, although the idea seemed strangely intriguing. Viktor wouldn't come to a place just because you were there, that would sound ridiculous.

"Fine, I'll come," you finally agreed, placing your index up in front of her to impeach her from saying anything. "But it's not just because of Viktor, don't get any ideas."

"Sure, whatever floats your delusion boat," she smiled before leaving the room.

You followed her into the hotel restaurant, which was already packed with students and other guests. You had indeed slept longer than usual, and if Fiora hadn't come to wake you up, you would probably have ended up receiving a remark from Heimerdinger about your absence to his lesson.

Unless perhaps one of your friends had come. It could very well have been Sky, Jayce, maybe Garen.

Maybe even Viktor.

As if searching for the beam of a lighthouse on the open sea, your eyes landed on him, sitting at a table in a corner with Jayce, as usual. Fiora joined them, and you helped yourself to breakfast, turning back to their table as Viktor's gaze fell on you.

Your heart skipped a beat as you gripped your tray tightly, hoping not to make a fool of yourself by dropping it if your body decided to act like this again against your will.

You walked towards them, Fiora sitting next to Viktor who only seemed to be partially listening to her, while Jayce seemed genuinely invested in what she had to say.

"Good morning," you greeted as you placed your lunch tray next to Jayce's. 

"Oh hey!" he said as he turned to you, "you're up later than usual."

"Yeah well," you sat down and took a slice of your lunch in hand, "couldn't find sleep."

Your eyes rested on Viktor, his own already on you and seemingly unchanged since he'd seen you come into the room. You could feel the heat rising to your cheeks again, that stupid allergy. 

"Oh? Why?” questioned the golden boy.

Surely not because I couldn't stop thinking about your best friend and that kept me up all night.

"Couldn't drop my book," you offered by way of explanation.

You felt Viktor's insistent gaze on you, and you swallowed your mouthful with difficulty, glancing at Fiora next to him who gave you a knowing little smile. Couldn't you look anywhere?

"What were you guys talking about?" you asked, turning to Jayce, who at least didn't seem ready to extort any information from you.

"Fiora was just explaining to us the rules of this game called the Werewolf," he smiled, turning to her.

You did the same, offering him a raised eyebrow as if to say ‘see, I'm not the only one who doesn't know about it’.

"Oh you're teachin’ them Werewolf?"

Garen, tray in hand, took a seat next to you.

"No, I'm visibly showing them how to use an iron curler," Fiora huffed heavily.

He glanced at her perfectly straight hair. "You're a poor demonstrator if that is the case," he replied before lowering his gaze to the contents of his tray and starting his breakfast.

"So," she continued, deciding to ignore him openly, "the game is simple. A narrator, players; two sides, one objective: may the best player win."

Your eyes met Viktor's again, a playful flicker crossing his gaze as your lips quirked with nostalgia for the beginning of the year.

"The players are either villagers or werewolves," continued Fiora. "The villagers' objective is to discover who the werewolves are and eliminate them, while the werewolves seek to eliminate the villagers without being discovered."

"Is this a board game?" questioned Viktor without taking his eyes off you.

You could sense that he was intrigued, and that for some reason he was intrigued because you were potentially going to play it.

Had Fiora just told them about the party? Had she arrived at their table to proudly wave a flag with the words ‘she said yes’ after your conversation?

I know Viktor will come if you do.

You brought the cup of your morning drink to your lips, trying to banish the constant replay in your mind of memories of that infamous shared cup of coffee.

"More like a card game," Garen replied, "all players start the game with a card that determines their role until the end of the game."

"The game is played in two distinct phases - night and day," continued Fiora. "At night, the leader calls out the roles one by one so that they wake up and take their actions. During the day you learn the results of what the night has sown, and you can eliminate a player by voting. And the cycle continues until the end."

"Wait," Jayce finally asked, beginning to really get into the game, "you said there were two sides, villagers and werewolves. But then you said you were calling out the roles one by one during the night."

"That's because some of the villagers have special powers," Garen pointed out.

"Powers?" you chuckled, finishing your mouthful before resuming. "I thought you hated anything to do with magic, isn't it strange to incorporate it into your games though?"

"It's a game, not real life," Fiora informed, and if she could have added 'you stupid cunt' to the end of her sentence, she had the perfect tone for it. "These powers are more special abilities than anything else."

You decided to keep quiet for the moment, Fiora explaining the roles one by one. 

"First of all, cupid."

Your eyes rested on Viktor for a moment, his glance never shifting from you but never losing the thread of the conversation. Your gaze fell on his cup of coffee for a tiny moment before you redirected your attention to Fiora and listened to her.

"He points at two players who will fall in love with his arrow, and if one of them dies, the other will kill themselves out of love. The aim of the lovers is to survive the game together, even against the village if one of them is a werewolf."

You understood more and more that the game would be based on strategy and theory, and you found yourself genuinely interested in it.

"Next up," Fiora continued, "is the card reader."

You frowned, but seeing as you'd been rebuffed the moment before for your question about magic, you weren't about to be taken back twice by asking her a second time.

"The card reader can observe a card of her choice, and keep the information for herself."

"Why not say in the morning that she knows the identity of a player?" questioned Jayce.

"Because the point is to manage to keep her role secret, or to bluff," explained Garen, biting into a green apple. "Someone might well claim to be able to tell that a player is innocent when they're not."

So it was a game of lies and trickery... strange coming from the Demacians, unless in the end it was an outlet for them to compensate for the lack of daydreams crushed by the constant oppression of justice and absolute truth.

"Finally, come the werewolves who, still in silence, consult each other to decide by pointing to their next victim. Once agreed, they go back to sleep - however," Fiora arched an eyebrow, “the role of the little girl can spy during the wolves' turn by discreetly half-closing her eyes, or by finding a better way to hide her spying."

"If you knew the possible strategies," laughed Garen, accidentally pressing his knee against yours, the latter turning towards you, "sorry."

"It's fine," you assured him as you shifted slightly to give him more room, it must be said that sitting between Jayce and Garen made you feel a little small.

"The penultimate, the alchemist," Fiora continued, "the narrator shows the alchemist the werewolves' victim, and asks him if he wishes to save them with an elixir," she held up her thumb, "do nothing," lowering it to the side, "or kill them with a poison," placing her thumb downwards.

"So there's another way of eliminating werewolves other than by voting?" questioned Viktor.

"Of course," confirmed Garen, "not only could the alchemist use a poison very carefully, but an eliminated player in love with a werewolf could very well take his love to his grave. Then, of course, there's the hunter."

"The hunter?" you repeated.

"The hunter is the last card," confirmed Fiora. "If the hunter dies, he can choose a target to kill with a bullet from his rifle before he dies."

"That's a lot of roles to remember," sighed Jayce, looking up at the ceiling of the restaurant and wishing he could keep all this information in his head.

"It'll come as the game goes on," Garen assured him, "I can always give you tips, by the way."

"It's cheating if you give them the keys to the game," Fiora grumbled as she slumped back in her seat and crossed her arms.

"They barely know the rules of the game," sighed Garen, "they're going to find themselves up against werewolf war machines without having a great idea of all the different strategies we know."

She said nothing, simply rolling her eyes as Garen turned to you and put his mouth to his palm to whisper in your ear, your eyes resting relentlessly on Viktor's which seemed to narrow under his frowning eyebrows.

"Werewolves can vote on each other, and if they agree on that, it means that when it's the alchemist's turn, they can get a werewolf resurrected and make the village's only saviour lose his life potion to prolong their chances."

He leaned back from you, and you let out a small laugh from your lungs as the confusion grew in Viktor's features.

"The Noxians have a lot to worry about if the Demacians are playing this game as a hobby," you smiled before taking the last of your breakfast into your mouth.

"Great," gasped Fiora, "now Zaunite girl is going to shamelessly try to tear us apart."

"Afraid of a debutant?" you pointed out with a mocking smile.

"I don't have anything to be afraid of," she articulated, her own smirk emerging, "since I will be the narrator."

"Pfft, coward," you huffed.

"I'm just out of this game because I would make it too hard for you to win anything," she countered before standing up. "But if your determination is as fierce as your fists, I think tonight's game is sure to prove interesting."

And with that, as she made her way out of the restaurant, Heimerdinger quieted the room to tell them all about the day's programme.

For the penultimate day, you were entitled to free time. You were allowed to visit any monument, street or other event taking place in the city.

Your day consisted of long walks through the streets, shopping for souvenirs along the way, taking part in street attractions such as a portrait drawn in ebony ink on a stone as white as the cliffs of Demacia, or a small café that gave a personality quiz at the entrance and offered you a coffee to go with it afterwards.

Viktor had left you again when the afternoon came, wishing to rest before the evening in case the Demacian flats reflected their streets by removing any sofas and chairs.

"If there was a way for them to sleep standing up, they wouldn't have any beds," he sighed before leaving.

You took advantage of this little trip back to the hotel to start packing your suitcase. Fiora's remark about your appearance and your neglect of it still lingered slightly in the back of your mind, even though you eliminated the possibility of buying a dress or some make-up soon enough.

As you packed your things, your fingers inevitably landed on your deck of cards. There were two decks today, and you had a feeling that they would be revealing.

After your usual shuffling ritual, the deck offered you the Chariot card.

Advancing towards a chosen goal. Confidence and certainty. Movement and adventure. The city wall behind the Chariot reflects the barrier between you and others. You are freeing yourself.

You huffed as you sat on your bed, could you honestly follow the advice on this card?

The description continued: The character is protected by his armour and all the celestial bodies are reflected on the canopy. Two sphinxes line up on the black and white pillars of the High Priestess. They reflect duality and the outer pillars of the Tree of Life. The Magician has channelled energy through his body to transport it here and push the body into action. Nothing can stop you. You are literally in the driver's seat.

Your fingers ran over the smooth varnish of the card, your eyes searching its details. Could you be so certain? Could you sincerely free yourself from all those cycles and ideas that were needlessly handcuffing you to behaviours linked to the past?

If Fiora's advice was sincerely that you put yourself first, you were going to choose what you wanted for yourself and not someone like Fiora who wanted to tell you how to act and react. But you kept her advice in mind when it came to the physical side of things.

You had to move forward, make up your mind and not look back.

That evening, you met Sky in the hall to go to Fiora's house. Outside, the air was fine, and other students were already on their way to her address. Viktor and Jayce would arrive later, no doubt to avoid the social rule that arriving too early for a party was a waste of time.

"I'm surprised you're going to her party," Sky admitted as the two of you walked side by side. "After everything she's done to you, it would almost be doing her too much honour to come."

"I'd be doing her a favour if I stayed in my room on my own," you sighed. "If I didn't come to her party, I would have admitted defeat and needlessly deprived myself of an opportunity to have a good time."

"I can understand that," Sky conceded, "but don't you think she'd risk a public toast to you again by revealing anything else you'd have preferred to keep secret?"

"I don't think that even with all the effort in the world she would come to any further conclusion about me that she could reveal," you admitted. "But the holiday is coming to an end, and I'd rather leave on good terms with good memories. Something tells me this evening will be a perfect example of that.’

It wasn't long before you reached the address. It was more a large house than anything else, three storeys high with multiple balconies where you had a feeling that some people were going to end up in a counterparty.

When you entered the hall, warm colours cut through the generally cold exterior. Sofas covered in red and magenta cushions were placed in the living room, where some of your friends were already sitting and chatting, a large kitchen with a massive island on which various glasses and snacks were sitting was at the back of the room, while Fiora was chatting with some of her other friends.

You met her gaze and she abandoned her discussion to come towards you as Sky found Orcelyia.

"The pipsqueak and the muscle-bound one aren't here yet?" she asked, looking around the room.

"They won't be long," you confirmed, imitating her gesture. "So that's your place?"

"In part, yes," she confirmed, observing the decoration in turn before turning away towards the island. "It's under my surname, and therefore mine in a way."

You moved forward to follow her, observing the petit fours ready to fill all the stomachs of the evening. "You truly do live like a princess."

"I hate it as much as I love it," she admitted before taking a goblet, uncorking a black felt-tip pen with her teeth and keeping the cap between her lips as she wrote on the cup. 

"Too many dresses in your closet?" you questioned as you leaned back against the worktop.

"Too many expectations about me wearing the dresses," she explained before handing you the cup with your name on it and taking another in her hand. "What is wearing me down is the need to honour it."

You watched her elegant handwriting and the way she had added an exclamation mark to the end of your name. "I think you can honour them well, otherwise you wouldn't get the guilt from it."

"I wish I didn't need to honour anything at all," she confessed, writing her own name with little flourishes and other little drawings on it. "All I want is to cut the air with my blade and be considered as someone other than Fiora from house Laurent. Want something to drink?’

If you wanted to be able to stay alert later on during those famous werewolf games, alcohol was probably not a wise choice. So you asked her for a simple drink that you could enjoy without worrying about the side effects it would bring.

You watched the rest of the room, the background music loud enough to set the mood without anyone having to lean over to their conversation partner to hear. You wondered when Viktor and Jayce would arrive.

"So," Fiora continued as if she could read your mind, or was once again far too curious, "you and Viktor."

"Not this again," you sighed, taking a sip of your drink.

"Come on," she lengthened her sentence lasciviously, "I want to know where it all started."

You chuckled slightly, thinking back to all the things you'd been through about him so far.

"Well," you began, looking around the room, your eyes resting on Sky for a moment, "the day I returned to the Academy after the holidays were over, this homo-idioticus, in one single day, refused my help coldly and managed to overtake me in the Academy results."

"Off to a strong start," she smiled, intrigued.

‘’Don't remind me,’‘ you continued, ”there followed weeks and weeks of childish bickering, leading to Heimerdinger eventually pairing us up for a team project and us working together.’’

"Heimerdinger is decidedly well versed in what he needs to do."

"He made me want to rip his moustache off," you sneered, "I even ended up in detention because of it."

"You, in detention? I'd have liked to have seen that," she smiled, "did you hit another pupil to achieve the same result?"

"Well..." you let your sentence fade for a moment as you moistened your lips, "there's a chance Tyler's face might recall that."

Fiora's smile faded in an instant as shock passed seamlessly over her face. "I was joking, but..." she seemed to consider the situation, chuckling as a mocking smile settled on her face. "Gosh he is pathetic."

‘’Tell me about it,‘’ you observed as you searched the room for him with your eyes.

"He's not invited, if that's your concern," Fiora informed you before taking only a sip of her drink. "What happened next?"

You were trying to put the pieces of the story back together. "Then came the exams, and my unforgivable desire to win got the better of me enough that I flirted with death for a moment while the illness confined me to a bed. He…” you breathed in, thinking back to the sun caressing his hair, the crease of his eyebrows in his sleep, “he watched over me.”’

She was silent beside you, and when you turned to her, she wore a small, knowing smile as her eyebrows rose suggestively. "Mhm."

You rolled your eyes. "After that, when I finally realised that our goals weren't common and there was no reason for me to hate him, we decided to call a truce."

"And I suppose he came up with the idea?" she questioned.

You nodded, bringing your cup to your lips in the hope that the heat would subside in your cheeks, your eyes resting on the entrance to the room, waiting.

"You're so blind," Fiora whispered.

You turned to her. "How so?"

"I can't say yet, not when your wit is as sharp as a butter knife," she smiled as she walked over to the counter to get a refill. "But when it hits you, it's going to be like a brick."

“Viktor's my friend,” you repeated once more.

"Yeah, right," she smiled, her eyes settling on a point in the room as her lips stretched into a sneer, "speaking of the devil."

Your eyes inevitably fell on Viktor and Jayce who had just arrived. Jayce was elegant, with a black shirt that hugged his muscular frame and jeans of the same colour. Viktor, on the other hand, was dressed simply in a brown shirt with rolled-up sleeves and simple black trousers, his brace covering his leg. Of the two, you could tell who had spent more time in front of the mirror.

"Finally here," Fiora called before moving towards them and you following.

Jayce had simply taken an inordinate amount of time getting ready, as usual, even if he had seemed to cut back on certain parts of his routine. This was no doubt due to the little teasing you and Viktor had given him, and poor Jayce was probably having an existential crisis about his tastes and appearances.

"This is your place?" questioned Jayce as he observed the architecture and interior decoration.

"I know," whispered Fiora, "it's a bit too big, but for these kinds of occasions, it's perfect. Bathrooms on each floor, a few bedrooms as well as closets, balconies for a smoke if wanted - all we need. Now, let me bring you your cups.’

As she disappeared towards the counter again, you turned towards them. Viktor looked at you while Jayce observed the flat's decorations.

"Thankfully this is not another masquerade," you smiled.

"I think I'd prefer a masquerade," Viktor confessed, "it would help me hide my boredom with a conversation if I find myself stuck in it."

"I'm sure it'll be fine," Jayce encouraged, "we're going to spend most of the evening obviously playing games anyway."

He pressed his hand on his friend's shoulder before leaving to see other students. He seemed to find Garen, who smiled at him as they began a discussion. Perhaps the latter would also offer him a strategy for this evening's game.

"I have a feeling it's going to be a long one," you admitted before taking a sip of your drink and observing the rest of the room.

"I was going to go out and look for a balcony to claim as my own for the evening," Viktor conceded, "but I have a feeling it won't be that unpleasant."

"Really? What makes you say that?’ you questioned.

He shrugged, his eyes settling on the armchairs and sofas. "The fact that I don't have to stand."

You couldn't help but laugh at his remark, and he smiled. There was something soft in his eyes, and you couldn't make out what it was, but it cradled your heart in its arms.

"So you're the lady that kicked Fiora's ass!"

You turned towards a cheerful voice that sounded foreign to you. A young lady with blonde hair and eyes sparkling with wonder had arrived at your level.

"I..." you exchanged a glance with Viktor, wondering if he knew the young lady, "I am."

"I wish I could have been there for that," she mused with a charming euphoric smile, "it's all anyone's talked about for a week. It really makes you want to come to the training ground more often."

She hardly seemed to contain her excitement, and you were genuinely surprised. She looked to be about fifteen, and not one of the students at the party.

"Lux, please don't harass her in one go."

Garen reached your height, placing his hand on the girl's shoulder.

"Forgive my sister," he smiled, "I told her a little about our days and I do believe she has developed an adoration."

"I didn't know you had a little sister," you remarked before turning to her and introducing yourself.

"I already know your name," she smiled, "I've heard a great deal about you." She turned to your friend. "And you must be Viktor, right?’

"Himself," he sighed.

She leaned forward to whisper for him. "Sorry about Fiora's behaviour and the way she glued herself to you."

"Now," Fiora rightly interjected as Lux jumped slightly from surprise, coming back over to you and handing Viktor a cup with 'Vikkie' written on it with a little heart over the dot of the i's, "we have games to play. Lux, you're joining us little one?’

When enough people volunteered to play, everyone took their places on two sofas facing each other and an armchair to one side. You found yourself sitting on a corner of a sofa next to Sky, who was sitting between you and Orcelyia, while Jayce and Garen were sitting next to each other on the sofa opposite, and Lux was sitting next to her big brother. As for Viktor, he was sitting in the armchair.

This was a warm-up game so that the new players could get used to the game together - and possibly play with more players in future games. Fiora shuffled the cards for a moment, explaining the rules of the game and the process. She showed you the cards one by one, reminding you what they were, and soon enough she dealt them out.

You took yours and looked discreetly at its symbol: Werewolf.

Great, already an enemy in a game. It would be all right, it would be simple, wouldn't it? There were two werewolves present in the game, and you were wondering who would be the second participant.

"Now that everyone knows who they are," began Fiora, "the village is going to sleep for its first night."

Everyone closed their eyes, although it took Fiora's clarification that ‘you sleep with your eyes closed’ for Jayce to finally understand that he couldn't keep his eyes open at the moment.

"I call Cupid."

Having your eyes closed made for a strange experience. You found yourself trying to work out every movement of the more or less close players to try and work out who had what role.

"Designate two lovers who, at first sight, will fall madly in love with each other."

Despite the music, you tried to guide your ears towards the players and the reaction time. 

"All right, cupid, you can go back to sleep," said Fiora. "I'm now going to touch the heads of the two lovers, who will see and recognise each other."

The idea of having to be associated with anyone and that one of these players might be your partner displeased you at the time: what if they made a mistake? What if they were targeted and you ended up dead because you had to commit yourself?

You heard Fiora start to walk, and you feared that your head would be hit. She passed by Orcelyia and Sky, and her legs brushed against your knees without you feeling anything on your head or her continuing on her way.

Saved. All you had to do now was kill one of the lovers to kill two birds with one stone and speed up the game. It didn't matter who your furred partner was, if you could kill one of the lovers, you were going to seize the opportunity.

"The lovers wake up, to recognise each other," Fiora continued, leading the game with finesse and constantly moving around you to mislead the players.

Near you, however, you felt movement to your right, towards Sky and Orcelyia. Could they be the lovers of the evening? A player like Garen or possibly Lux, who already knew their way around, wouldn't have made the simple mistake of not being sufficiently quiet.

If that was the case and Sky was one of the two lovers, you could certainly try to silently convince your sidekick to come to terms with it - even if the thought broke your heart.

"Lovers go back to sleep," sighed Fiora. "I call the card reader. Point me to a player's card you'd like to see."

You concentrated hard to try and hear anything, but it seemed impossible to ignore the slight stirring of Sky next to you. Perhaps she was the card reader, perhaps she was just fidgeting to reposition herself.

When Fiora came round to move the cards and make you doubt, you dreaded your card being shown. What if you were eliminated from the start?

"The card reader can go back to sleep. I'm now calling in the werewolves."

You opened your eyes and lifted your head, looking around until your eyes landed on Viktor to your left. 

He looked back at you, cheek pressed lasciviously to the back of his hand. You were the two werewolves.

You couldn't help your lips from stretching into a smile as he winked at you, your cheeks heating and your heart missing a beat.

"They recognise each other," Fiora confirmed with a wry little smile. Had she intentionally dealt the cards so that you'd end up together like this? "The werewolves are now going to choose a victim for the night who will be their meal."

Your eyes roamed over the small group of closed eyes, apprehending to point with your thumb to the right towards Sky, but Viktor pointed without hesitation to Jayce. When your eyes landed on him, you noticed that his fingers were spread apart, barely hiding his open eyes.

The little girl, of course, barely concealing his identity as he tried hard to hide behind his thick fingers. You stifled the little laugh that rose up inside you before pointing to Jayce.

Fiora rolled her eyes. "Well, the werewolves have made their choice and can go back to sleep."

You exchanged one last glance with Viktor, who smiled at you before his eyes gently closed and you did the same.

"The alchemist's waking up."

You couldn't hear anything coming from the opposite sofa, and if the alchemist was on yours, they were very quiet.

"This person has been named as tonight's victim," you imagined her pointing at Jayce, "what do you wish to do? Save this person, do nothing, or kill someone?’

You could hardly hear anything, until Fiora spoke again. "Alright, alchemist, you can go back to sleep." She paused for a moment, then resumed. "The village wakes up."

Everyone raised their eyes, opening their falsely tired eyelids. You watched everyone, examining their faces and the way they acted.

"Dear villagers, last night a victim was devoured by werewolves."

You tried to remain calm, observing the rest of the participants, trying to gauge who might have what role. You met Garen's eyes, who was also watching you, followed by Lux, who seemed to be smiling in satisfaction. She could be a target for the vote, but you were counting on finding a way to cut it short by killing the two lovers.

Fiora turned to Jayce, pointing at him. "Jayce was found this very morning, jugular ripped out while he was out last night," she stepped forward to pick up Jayce's card, which until now had been lying like all the others on the coffee table at the centre of this affair. "The little girl died last night."

You feigned surprise, watching the other participants until your eyes fell on Viktor. It would have been more than suspicious if you hadn't been looking at him, and as you watched he seemed serene although falsely intrigued by who could have committed this murder.

"I suppose I can't say anything of what I saw?" questioned Jayce with a frustrated pout.

"Do dead people talk?" questioned Fiora in return, and Jayce crossed his arms, slumping back on the sofa as he stared into space followed by a long sigh.

"Wasn't so subtle about being the little girl I guess?" remarked Orcelyia.

"You guess?" underlined Garen. ‘Were you awake when this butchery happened?

Orcelyia abandoned her small smile for an expression of shock. "Of course not!"

If Orcelyia could become the target of the day, that was fine with you, and you intended to make sure that the day went in your favour. But you still had to pretend you were a villager and invent fictitious concerns.

"What's troubling is that the Alchemist did not use a life potion, Jayce is," you turned to him for a moment, "sorry, was not a threat."

"Hey!" he shouted indignantly.

"The dead don't speak," Fiora pointed out, Jayce grabbing a cushion from the sofa, putting it on his stomach and wrapping his arms around it to steady himself.

"She's right, though," Sky resumed. "The Alchemist kept his life potion. Now, who wouldn't want to save him?’

With a strange unanimity, everyone turned to Viktor. The hitherto silent man looked at you all, frowning.

"You really think I wouldn't have used some magic potion to save my friend if I had the opportunity?"

Viktor was playing the ‘it would be suspicious for me to target a friend’ card, and he played it wonderfully. You dreaded the possibility of Garen pointing out that it was precisely because Viktor was his friend that he had an extra chance of targeting him, but he did not.

You refrained from emphasising this idea, not wishing to eliminate your partner in crime even though this possibility could have given you undisputed immunity. No, you wouldn't do that to Viktor even if you could, and that idea made you feel all weird.

"Orcelyia," you resumed though, hoping to steer the conversation away from any further ideas about Viktor, "how did you make that assumption about Jayce?"

"Well, just look at him," she gestured broadly in the air at him.

You knew that Jayce wasn't the most discreet man in the world, but that didn't stop the remark from seeming like a perfect opportunity to pin her down.

"Excuse me?" you almost choked out. "Would you have attacked him on the logic that he was an easy target?"

"No don't take it this way," Orcelyia hastened, "you know what I meant!"

"You seem nervous," added Viktor calmly, the difference between his calm demeanour and Orcelyia's provided a convincing contrast - who would believe someone who looked guilty?

"Indeed she does," Garen remarked.

"I'm not a werewolf!" continued Orcelyia.

"You're not putting up anything to defend yourself though," Lux remarked, taking a slight dig at Garen's attitude.

"Because you don't give her time to defend herself," remarked Sky.

The two of them were in love, that was for certain.

"Are you defending her because she's your partner in crime?" you questioned.

You were insinuating a doubt, and the others were starting to hang on to it. You weren't seeing Viktor at the moment, trying not to let on that you had a more than dubious connection with him.

"Absolutely not," continued Orcelyia, "isn't my truth enough?"

"The truth will be what we make of it," you remarked.

"I think it's time for the village to vote," Fiora observed. 

You had prepared your target, Orcelyia perfectly in the lion's den as the others would follow. Even if your target was originally Sky, the possibility that the latter two were in love meant you could hope for a big score. After their elimination, only Garen and Lux would be left to foil, and one against two, no matter how it ended, would be gifted to win.

"On the count of three, you will point to the person you wish to consider as the target of this day's vote. One, two, three."

The count fell, and so a majority of hands turned to Orcelyia, besides her and Sky pointing one to you and one to Garen. You won.

"Well, the vote is almost unanimous. Orcelyia, today the village has chosen you as its victim. Offer your card."

She grumbled, taking her card and turning it over on the table.

"Orcelyia was the Alchemist," confirmed Fiora, showing the card to the players.

"Why didn't you save Jayce?" questioned Viktor.

"Because she was in love," you said, turning to Sky.

By making this remark, you were allowing yourself to be seen as the cupid left in the two villagers, even if after tonight you were going to win.

Orcelyia sighed as she turned to your friend in turn. "I'm sorry."

"It's alright," she smiled, "they had already made their choice."

Fiora stepped forward. "Sky, pierced by cupid's arrow, was madly in love with Orcelyia. And following today's vote, she has decided to join her lover in the grave" Sky grabbed her card, turning it over for all to see. "Sky was the card reader."

"Damn," you breathed, falsely shocked, although there was very little left to pretend given the rest that remained to be eliminated.

"So the reason you kept your potion close was so you could save Sky in case she was in danger of dying?" questioned Jayce.

"Yes," she breathed, "sorry Jayce, I had to make sure she stayed alive."

"Is the village ready to go back to sleep?" questioned Fiora, watching your heads nod. "Well, the village is going back to bed. The dead, meanwhile, can watch."

All those remaining - you, Viktor, Garen and Lux - closed their eyes or buried their eyelids in their palms.

"I'm calling the werewolves."

Viktor and you raised your heads, and Jayce opened his mouth wide, silently articulating with his lips ‘you two?!’

You shrugged as your lips pressed into a thin line, Viktor smiling shamelessly.

"Werewolves, from now on choose who will be your victim this night."

Any one of them could make the choice, but the hunter remained, and something told you that Garen hadn't been the one to make Sky and Orcelyia the lovers. So, if you devoured him tonight and woke up in the morning with one of you dead, you'd end up with a tie. No, you had to win, take this first victory proudly and handily to show the other players that even if you were just beginners, you were formidable.

So you pointed to Lux, and Viktor exchanged a glance with you before following you with his finger. He trusted your instincts, just as you had trusted him with Jayce.

"Right, the werewolves can go back to sleep," she indicated, waiting a final moment before saying, "the village wakes up."

The four of you opened your eyes, the other two seeming to understand the fate that awaited them.

"Tonight, a new victim has been taken," she moved towards Lux, "between the white feathers and the blood, Lux has been devoured." She grabbed her card, showing it for all to see. "Lux was the cupid."

Sky and Orcelyia smiled at her, while Garen understood the situation.

"Of course it had to be the both of you," he smiled, "it's always you two."

"You don't change a winning team," you grinned for a moment, your eyes settling on those of Viktor.

There was a glint of quiet, dark amusement in his eyes, nodding. 

"She called you an homo-idioticus," Fiora commented as if reading a line from your lecture notes, or a post-it scribble you'd put on Viktor's forehead to make him guess what he was.

"It's a pet name," he remarked, chuckling slightly at the appellation as he turned to you.

"Birds of a feather flock together," you tried to clarify at least.

"Right, could the two cubs finally name their voting victim?"

You both pointed at Garen, who sighed as Fiora picked up his card. "Garen was the hunter."

He huffed, slumping down on the sofa next to Jayce before pointing his index finger at you like a pistol, pretending to aim at you. 

"Poof," he pressed as with that imaginary trigger he winked, to better aim for a moment.

"And so the werewolves win with Viktor," Fiora pointed out before starting to pick up the cards again.

"You killed me?!" Jayce finally exclaimed in your direction.

"You were hardly discreet," pointed out Viktor.

"You were spreading your fingers a lot," you confirmed.

"I was doing my best! Why did you kill me straight away?"

"You were going to reveal who we were if we let you live until tomorrow," you continued, "and knowing it's you, everyone would have believed it."

Other students from the party eventually wanted to join in, and just as you were expecting to start another game of it, Fiora had other ideas.

"We're going to try a new game, but with a different layout," she indicated as she stood up, turning to some of the rest of the students, "you're doing seven minutes in heaven?"

"Yeah, we've just cleared the dressing room," grinned one of them as he nervously scratched the back of his neck while his other hand had a thumb busy pressing against his red lips. Another girl behind him was redrawing her own with a red lipstick. 

"What's a seven minutes in heaven?" you questioned, mixing curiosity with slight concern.

"You really do live in a cave," sighed Fiora, turning to you and Viktor, "you two, follow me."

You exchanged a glance with Viktor, himself looking confused, before you both stood up and followed her out of the room.

"Seven minutes in heaven is simple," she began to explain as you headed down a corridor, "we choose two people to meet for seven minutes in a closet."

"To do what?" asked Viktor.

She turned to the two of you once she'd reached a door at the end of the corridor. "Make out."

Your heart leapt into your throat as your mind raced. Make out? 

The idea seeped into your mind like sunlight through the cracks of a cave. For a moment you imagined the scene, how close you'd be, how his hand would rest on your waist like you'd tattooed your mind with it in the museum, how your lips would have no cup to separate them.

But you pulled yourself together. The idea should have repulsed you, or made you feel more unpleasant than anything else - not possible.

Why had you even considered it?

You turned to him, who seemed just as surprised as you were as your eyes fell on his.

"What?" you finally asked nervously, turning to Fiora.

"Relax, I'm kidding," she reassured, and your shoulders slumped as you realised Viktor was doing the same, "although most people in seven minutes in heaven do make out. You can just talk in there, do absolutely nothing at all and wait for the time to end, or engage in further than just kissing.’

She wore a naughty smile, and you hoped your cheeks would miraculously stop heating up.

"Although I don't think you'll get to that stage, I suppose it's always good to know your options," she pointed out as she opened the dressing room door and grabbed what looked to you like an alarm clock. ‘Here, no one will come and spy on you or hear you. Please enter your palace for the next seven minutes."

You exchanged a glance with Viktor, who seemed to be gauging the situation just as you were. You didn't have to kiss him or anything, and you obviously doubted that Viktor would want to engage in such an activity. You were reassured by the fact that simple conversation was a possibility, but the closeness would no doubt trigger this allergy even more.

"Do I have to push you inside or are you going to go in?" Fiora was getting impatient.

‘’All right, all right,‘’ you grumbled, finally stepping into the room.

You stood there for a moment, arms folded as you looked at Viktor, who seemed surprised by your choice.

"It's not like we're going to make out or anything," you shrugged.

He was silent for a moment, a look in his eyes that you couldn't quite work out was there, before he finally nodded and walked over to you. The room wasn't so small, at least not small enough for you to feel claustrophobic.

Fiora placed the alarm clock on the floor, then grabbed the door handle to close it on you. ‘’Good game!" she wished, the door closing and leaving you both in a room illuminated by a small orange nightlight that kept most of the room bathed in darkness.

Her footsteps faded into the echo of the corridor, leaving just you and Viktor, silently alone, just the two of you. Just goes to show, you didn't need a balcony to have a contre soirée.

Your eyes inevitably met, drifting slightly to one side but surely out of embarrassment or nervousness at the situation.

"So," Viktor broke the silence, "I'm a Homo-Idioticus?"

You laughed, your head falling back as you closed your eyes with a smile before your head fell lazily forward again. "Not you too, please."

"Under what context was I called such an endearing nickname?" He smiled, seeming in no way offended as he teased on.

You sighed, leaning against the wall adjacent to your exit door. "She asked me how we met."

"Ah," he realised, "yes I suppose a Cretinus Totalus would have been good for you too at times."

"Are you tired of calling me Miss already?" you joked.

He took a small step towards you to face you. "It's going to take a miracle for me to get tired of ever saying it."

The memories of your discussion at the museum came back to you just by your mutual position. You remembered his jaw, your proximity, the feeling of his hand on your waist keeping you in place and waiting for Fiora to leave. The situation mirrored itself in a new angle.

And the way you had to leave things only underlined the need for a continuation to it. You were well aware that you hadn't come to the end of that conversation yet, and he seemed to think so too.

"That day," he said as his eyes pierced you with their questions, "why did you leave?"

You knew instantly of the moment he was speaking about. You replayed in your mind the fight against Fiora, the disgusting feeling of the blood on your hands, and Viktor's shocked eyes on you that you tried not to think about if possible.

"I felt like..." you lowered your eyes to your hands, nervously fidgeting with them, "I disgusted you."

It was his turn to giggle and for your gaze to gain back his level. "So you used to be disgusted by me and now you're the one scared of me being disgusted by you?"

"You never disgusted me, Viktor," you articulated firmly as you met his eyes, your jaw tightening for a moment as he seemed a little surprised by your seriousness and the mention of his name. "Never have, never will."

His lips parted for a moment in astonishment.

"And I'm sorry that I ran away, but," you tried to hold your breath and not let your heart get the better of your words, "I really needed to get it all off of me."

Your fingers were almost itchy, and you tried in the moment to distract the sensation by bringing your hand to the back of your neck, which felt like it was burning, while your other hand hung down your body.

The muscle in Viktor's jaw tightened, the orange glow of the nightlight lingering on it for a moment before he relaxed. He didn't look angry, disappointed, or disgusted.

"I," his own hand gripped his cane differently, "wanted to find you then, to talk to you, to..." his amber eyes met yours, concerned, "make sure you were okay."

Your heart almost sank to its knees in the hollow of your chest - Viktor cared about you. Of course, that's what friends do for their friends when problems arise, but it didn't change the fact that the idea made you feel strange.

"Fiora was in a worse state than me," you mumbled.

"I do not care about Fiora," Viktor pointed out, shaking his head to clear the idiotic idea, "she is no friend of mine."

You inhaled harshly. "You stay friends with violent people?"

"I stay friends with people that I admire."

The lack of hesitation in his voice and his words left you almost speechless. There was this easiness about the way he said it, like it was an evidence, like it couldn't have been otherwise.

"Admire?" you repeated, as if to make sure you hadn't misheard what he'd said.

His eyes on you made you burn, eradicating everything in their path and revealing only truths you thought impossible to be seen. He took a step forward, and it seemed to you that their heat was setting you ablaze.

"Yes," he resumed, "admire."

"What is there to admire about me?" you chuckled, feeling like a lost cause.

"Do you want the chronological or the alphabetical order?"

You raised your eyebrows. "You have both these lists prepared?"

"If you can have our clauses numbered at the top of your mind, I don't see why I wouldn't have my own list prepared for the reasons to be your friend," he confirmed.

You blinked rapidly, amazed at the immediacy with which he responded. He cut short any possibility that went against his reasoning, and if you were coming up with anything that would try and rival such comebacks, he already had two prepared in advance. You breathed in, but ended up huffing out a sigh.

"No need for this list," you chuckled, a small pause taking the air before your grin left your lips. "I feared the way you would see me after," your eyes fell on your fingers again, "what I did. There was just something that..." with your fingernail, you were trying to scrape off a flap of skin sticking out near your thumb. "I just couldn't get you to be disappointed in me."

He frowned, his head jerking back in disbelief. "I'm going to pretend I didn't just hear that."

"What?" you questioned, confused.

"Disappointed?" he repeated, the word sounding foreign on his tongue. "In you?"

You shrugged. "Does it seem that surprising of a concept?"

"Yes," Viktor confirmed with an incredulous grin, "or maybe do I have to remind you of your number one spot at the academy?"

You turned your head away, his eyes becoming an annoying mirror of what you were as you fled your reflection. "Not needed."

"Then why think you'd disappoint me?"

But you regained his gaze in the moment, he deserved to see the fear in your eyes and the uncertainty that stalked you. "Because who would want someone that is violent to hang out with?"

He shook his head. "It was legitimate defense."

"If it was legitimate defense, why did I end up with her blood on my hands, Viktor?" You almost raised your voice.

"Violent?" He frowned, taking another step towards you, leaving only a metre between you. "Don't you think I would have wanted to know how to fence with my cane to go against anyone that would have dared say what she said aloud to me?"

There was a firmness in his tone, his accent snapping across his teeth and lips. You parted your own, inhaling heavily. Had you pissed him off? Had you finally pushed him too far?

Noticing, however, the way you had tensed up, he let out a long sigh, his eyes softening as they roamed over your face and came to caress with the tips of his lashes where Fiora had struck.

Your back was pressed against the wall, you couldn't escape him. But would you have escaped if you'd had the chance? If the wall didn't exist, would you have backed away?

"We all have our angers," he continued, his voice softer, "and our reasons to fuel them. All different, all tailored, and that is what makes it so much easier to feel." He moved a little closer, and your chest swelled with warm air. "But in no way shape or form does it define you."

You swallowed, trying to force down the knot that was trying to form in your throat. Your eyes lowered to your hand, to your fingernail, still trying to tear off the cursed skin that kept sticking out. 

"Anger has left a gash in me that never wants to heal," your voice had grown small, a tiny light emerging in the darkness of the room, "I'm doing everything I can to make sure it never spreads again and closes."

You didn't meet his gaze, head down, continually scratching your skin to eradicate this weed growing on your skin. For as long as you had tried fighting all of this, it seemed as if you could never truly run away from it. Living with yourself had become a luxury through time, a possibility to move on with your life. And yet this clingy, sticky sensation clung to your fingers and mind horrifyingly.

And then, silently, Viktor gently moved his free fingers towards your hand without touching it. He just hovered over it, considering the situation, hesitating.

Then, his fingertips brushed against yours, sending sparks all over your arm and igniting your heart before he pressed his thumb against the skin you were trying so hard to rip off. 

His hand was warm, more than you would have expected, slightly calloused but soft and reassuring. He caressed the skin next to your fingernail, providing it a care your own treatment vould never have offered.

"To heal a wound, you have to stop touching it, Miss."

His voice was gentle, what little warmth there was in the room coming to lodge close to your heart for a moment. You inhaled harshly, the touch of his thumb on your skin washing away your worries like waves on sand.

If this allergy really was an allergy, why weren't any of the symptoms unpleasant?

"I know," you murmured, your thoughts slowly drifting away as the simple sensation of his skin on yours anchored you.

You could feel his eyes on you. "Then why do you keep letting it open?"

You tried to regain his gaze, to let yourself be seen, to let him see you. You inhaled sharply, biting the inside of your cheek as you looked up at him.

"Because it's the only thing I've ever known."

He tilted his head to one side, your heart missing a beat as his eyes showed no embarrassment, no fear, no disgust. His thumb pressed a little closer to your skin, moving ever so slightly along it.

"You don't have to live in it anymore," he murmured, his eyes resting on yours.

You lowered your gaze to your hands, Viktor's thumb sliding along the length of your index finger towards the inside of your hand, undoing your clenched fist in the process as his fingers barely covered the back of your hand.

"It'll take time," you whispered, letting the tension fade from your body.

You were close, only a small space separating your shoes from each other. There was something almost hypnotic in his caresses, in the fearful slowness with which he moved. There was something inside you, something that seemed to wake up a little more each time you were in his presence.

"All the time it needs," Viktor confirmed, his thumb continuing its journey to your knuckles, still darkened by the force of your strikes.

You watched, feeling his fingers pass under yours and support them as if you'd just given him a dance. 

His eyes watched your hand, yours raised to meet the serenity on his face. "Has your anger ever calmed?" you asked.

His chest swelled with air before he let out a long sigh. "It had," he confirmed.

"Had?" you questioned.

"Lately, I can't lie about the fact that a certain frustration has taken hold of me," the tip of his thumb brushed against the knuckle of your middle finger, the latter particularly dark compared to the others.

"Why?" you questioned, your fingers clasping his for a moment to gain his attention on the subject. "What happened?"

He straightened up, his eyes setting on you for a moment before letting go of your hand gently to rest it on top of the other one on the pommel of his cane. You were already strangely missing his warmth, why were you disappointed that he'd let go? Why had he held on to it? He could have let go of it a long time ago, so why did he go on? And you, who hadn't withdrawn it, why was that the case?

"Well," he continued, "a certain friend of mine started spending more time with a Demacian and neglected help from me but not from him."

You frowned, "Garen?"

"Unless your wounds were magically treated by air the day after the fight, I don't see anyone else," Viktor confirmed.

You remembered the morning itself, the alcohol stinging your lips as your eyes found Viktor. Was his frustration due to the fact that you hadn't come to see him instead of Garen?

"Well," you began again, "that was because my friend was monopolised by another Demacian that hated me."

He nodded. "I could have used a little help on that one too, I suppose."

"Sorry, your guard dog had a bit of trouble against the Demacians," you joked before gesturing vaguely to your face to show the area where you'd been injured.

He gave a small, amused smile. ‘’Damned Demacians, all bark no bite."

"Well, they do bite, just not as hard as Zaunites." You remembered what Eris had said just before you met Viktor, and found it ironic that you'd gone from lone wolf to watchdog. Were you that dedicated?

"The underground brings out the best underhounds," he confirmed, "we have a way to claw our way up to success that remains unrivalled."

You smiled, and he returned the gesture. There was an ease in the air, a comforting return to normality. But did normal include him taking your hand again? Or were you just going to go back to being a simple classmate? The second idea seemed more bitter. You would have liked to stay like that, in the softness of a room where, even if it was full of clothes, you were naked in the eyes of the heart.

"It's a good thing the trip is coming to an end," you admitted reassuringly, the impatience to know what the year's continuity had in store for you residing close to your soul.

The alarm went off, and you gasped before bringing your hand to your forehead to sigh. Time was just up. Viktor laughed as you recovered from your disorientating shock.

"Let's go," he offered as he opened the door and held it open for you, "before Jayce ends up martyred to the Werewolf."

You laughed lightly, breaking away from the wall to step out into the corridor as he followed you. Your heart was still pounding in your ears, and you couldn't decide whether that was a result of your surprise at the alarm, or whether it was due to the phantom feel of Viktor's fingers on your skin.

How lucky, you thought, that his digits hadn't wandered up your wrist to discover the erratic rhythm of your pulse.

The two of you walked back to the living room, another duo designated to take your place as you appeared.

Fiora seemed deeply disappointed that your lips weren't mutually swollen or your hair a mess and that you were returning as she'd left you.

"Joining us for a new game?" questioned Lux excitedly.

"Absolutely," you confirmed as you sat down on the sofa and Viktor, unable to get back his place on the armchair, sat down next to you.

Fiora redistributed the cards, promising one last game before adding more players so that the games would last longer and not end as quickly as the previous one, which you and Viktor had won hands down.

You picked up your card, bringing it discreetly to your eyes: hunter.

After finishing a game in which the hunter had killed you, you were taking on his role. You put your card down in front of you, and Viktor did the same. You wondered whether he was a werewolf again, whether he would target you if he was, or whether he too had a different role.

"The village falls asleep," Fiora began again.

You closed your eyes, happy in the knowledge that you would only have to be attentive and not active, given your sleeping role.

"I call upon Cupid," Fiora proclaimed, "designate two players who will love each other until death do them part."

You waited a moment, feeling Fiora move slightly in space. "Good, Cupid you can go back to sleep. I'm now going to touch the heads of the two lovers, who will wake up and recognise each other."

You could feel her moving, hearing her footsteps on the carpet, until you felt her hand press down on your head. Brilliant. You thought you could play a game without having to go through debates and stuff, but here you were, having to watch someone's back.

You opened your eyes, looking around to see who might have been your love for the game. Everyone in front of you had their eyes closed, and you frowned before turning to Viktor.

He was awake.

You were the lovers of this game.

The lovers' card came to mind in Eris's draw, and a wave of heat ran through your body.

You arched an eyebrow, eyes half-closed and chin high, offering a wink in response to his gesture from the previous game. His eyes darkened for a moment, a mischievous smile spreading across the corner of his lips.

"Lovers can go back to sleep, or do what lovers do," Fiora smiled, your eyes rolling up to the sky as you closed them.

The rest of the night went on, you paying little attention to what was going on, though your thoughts kept returning to the feel of his hand on yours, his warmth, his tenderness. The more time passed, the more this idiotic allergy theory crumbled. You wouldn't look for symptoms of an allergy to happen again, so why did you feel so drawn to his touch? To his words? To him?

What would happen if you engaged even slightly physically? Would he be disgusted by it? Would he be embarrassed? Would he move away like he had ended up doing?

There was only one way to find out.

Gently then, tentatively, you pressed your knee against his. Your heart was racing, so much so that it was difficult to hear anything other than the rapid rhythm of its drumming in your eardrums.

A second went by, then another, and another, and you wondered if you shouldn't have withdrawn your leg after such a ridiculous gesture.

But just before you pulled away after a good ten more seconds had passed, he pressed his knee against yours, not as a request to pull away, but as an acceptance.

You tried very slowly to let out a sigh of relief, the air escaping in bumps as your heartbeat cut it off slightly.

"The village wakes up," Fiora finally announced.

You hadn't thought about the fact that eventually you'd have to open your eyes, and the idea of meeting Viktor's gaze again after that attempt, from which you still hadn't moved, scared you a little.

But you had to open your eyes, and so you put them on Fiora to listen to what she had to say and concentrate.

"Last night, the werewolves claimed a victim." She moved towards Orcelyia. "After firing her arrow, it seems she didn't use it to defend herself." She picked up her card, showing it to everyone. "Cupid died last night."

So Orcelyia, who had previously died because of your relentlessness against her, had no doubt decided to take revenge by putting you two in love.

You met her gaze as she slumped back on her sofa.

"Another alchemist who didn't save a victim," Garen remarked.

"So maybe an alchemist who's in love again," theorised Sky.

You were perhaps realising this pattern. Was Viktor saving his life potion to save you in the potential event where you'd be designated a victim?

As the others began to put forward their theories, you let them do so without saying anything, your thoughts too busy on the contact that you and Viktor had.

It was just two knees, two limbs from two different bodies, bones covered in muscles covered in skin and then clothes, nothing more and nothing less. So, if that's all it was, why couldn't you stop thinking about it?

Maybe what was stopping you from not thinking about it was the fact that you had thought about doing it? Maybe what was stopping you from not thinking about it was the fact that you'd done it? Maybe what was stopping you from not thinking about it was the fact that he had returned the gesture and hadn't moved back?

The conversation passed without you paying much attention, except that Lux and Garen seemed rather devious. Maybe it was just the brother and sister effect, you thought. So the vote of the day came, and Sky was chosen, the theory being that since she had been linked to Orcelyia in previous games, she would have tried to make herself feel safe about being a werewolf by killing her to prove that she would never have done that. But the verdict was in: she was the little girl.

The village went back to sleep, without you meeting Viktor's eyes, but without forgetting him. It seemed as if every light and reflection that had lit up his eyes so far came back to you under closed lids.

The night of the power cut, when the almond of light from the candle had been lodged in his pupils, the morning after passing out when he'd slept at your bedside before waking up for the sun to settle in his eyes, and just then when his eyes were reflecting the little orange glow.

You had been used to cold lights, to the Safphire burning in Selene's hearth, to the darkness of the night, to the depths of a neon-lit city. 

And he had come to illuminate all this, as the day set to let the night live on, the two coming together in a single colour that proved to be his favourite - the one he preferred.

Fiora called out to the players one by one until the village awoke.

"Last night there was a real massacre," Fiora exclaimed theatrically. "Not one, but two people died!"

"Did the lovers die?" questioned Garen.

"The Alchemisy used his death potion?" exclaimed Lux.

"You'd better believe it," smiled Fiora. "Last night, found amongst her incense and candles, Jayce was killed," she uncovered his card, "and Jayce was the card reader."

"I was going to make it all right!" he exclaimed as he brought his face into his hands.

"Don't worry, Jayce" Fiora comforted though, "because out of your two killers, one died last night." She turned to Lux. "The alchemist had concocted a deeply devastating elixir that very night, capable of taking out any man..." she grabbed the girl's card and turned it around for all to see, "or any beast."

You smiled, Lux sighed and tilted her head back in disappointment. Now there was only Garen left.

"It seems it's always the two of us against everyone, Miss," Viktor smiled, his knee pressing ever so slightly against yours as a small sign of victory. 

"You..." Garen opened his mouth into a smile as a unique burst of laughter rose up his throat, "of course you were the lovers."

"Hmm," Viktor hummed, frowning with a thoughtful expression. "What are we going to do with him?"

"Well," you pressed your lips into an inverted smile as you watched Garen, "if you live by the river, I got a bag."

"Just finish this already," Garen sighed, pointing at you again for his vote as the two of you pointed at him.

"And just like that," Fiora walked over to Garen and picked up the card, "the reign of the werewolves ends with the union of two lovers."

You turned to Viktor, a victorious smile tugging at your lips as you offered him your hand to shake. Was it a simple desire for politeness in the gesture of having played so well as your sidekick, or was it another unconscious desire to feel his hand close to yours?

He smiled back, shaking your hand. The handshake wasn't very long, just to seal your victory in everyone's eyes, but you couldn't help noticing the way his thumb lightly caressed your hand before withdrawing.

"Another game?" suggested Fiora.

And so the evening continued, the group of students growing in size as roles were added and debates sparked. You laughed when Jayce let out an ‘ouch!’ when Fiora touched his head to determine who the lovers were, or when Orcelyia almost grabbed Garen by the collar when he referred to her as a werewolf even though she was a villager.

The strategy Garen had given you ended up coming handy when you both were werewolves, and it became evident that you’d bring this game back to Zaun to teach it to some kids.

When those who closed their eyes during the night part of the game finally really felt actual sleep taking them, the living room began to empty little by little, until there were only too few students left to play games. Some had returned to the hotel or to their homes, others had taken free rooms to sleep there. What about you? Well, you were helping to tidy up a little.

Fatigue began to pull you as you put the few remaining cups in the trash. Your eyes rested on two of them, sticking close to one another - yours and Viktor's, near each other.

Your shoulders sagged, his name next to yours now seeming to you more than simple letters, more than simple black strokes on plastic, more than two names on a list of league tables.

You pressed your thumb against your fingers, remembering the feeling of his hand on yours, and your two knees joined on the couch, and his eyes…

You shook your head, turning away from the kitchen to leave the apartment. Jayce had already accompanied Viktor home earlier in the evening, Garen and Lux had left earlier, Sky and Orcelyia were probably occupying a room, while Fiora was probably sleeping in her bed very comfortably.

You were leaving the house, the morning freshness making you regret forgetting a jacket. You didn't expect to have so much fun, to stay so long, or to experience all this. The delicate sunrise was your morning caress, accompanying you alone until you reached the hotel. 

Even if the outside was profoundly silent and was barely waking up, your thoughts were all jostling in your head as you went over each event of the evening, catching each one like fireflies in your hands and delicately observing their light between your fingers.

Inside, the personnel were already busy preparing the buffet – today it was hotel brunch and therefore was open until noon. You felt that after a meager sleep, you would find great comfort in a cup of coffee.

You walked mechanically to the end of the corridor leading to your room, inserting the key with a lack of energy, but you stopped in your gestures. You turned to the door facing it, Viktor's.

If you opened your own door, it would have been like leaving again for seven minutes in the paradise of memories, ready to recast your entire conversation, for your eyes to annotate your thoughts by rewinding the track, your heart making close-ups on the most important passages. His eyes, his hands, your fingers tied. No element would be forgotten.

You pressed the handle of your room, not finding there the dimness of the orange nightlight, but the blue of the mosaics and slabs. You closed the curtains, pulled yourself out of your shoes and pants with great fatigue, and collapsed on your bed.

Your eyes rested on the ceiling, stinging with fatigue as you fought a hard battle with your lids. Your hand rested on your heart, the latter beating under your t-shirt, covering your skin covering your muscles covering your bones.

You inhale gently while closing your eyes, and it's as if you were breathing him in.

All these sensations that were turning upside down in you, you didn't know what they were. But one thing was certain, you didn't want them to stop.

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[httpvomitello]

OMG, the evil turtle 😭 our ROTTMNT boys will have to be very careful when approaching that little menace. Imagine that tiny monster destroyed all the guys’ things in just a small moment of inattention, and it even seems like it wants to take a bite out of one of its new big brothers (bringing back memories of when the evil turtle destroyed the toys it was given and almost ate Gumball when chasing him)

(Donnie is seeing himself lmao)

It seems we are still in the moment of dealing with the evil turtle 😭😭😭. Hope you like it ♡♡♡♡

Leo prided himself on being calm under pressure(he's not), but the tiny turtle perched in your tank was testing every ounce of his patience. You’d introduced the little menace as “Snappy,” and Leo had thought it was cute. That was before Snappy made it his personal mission to wreak havoc on everything in his path.

It started innocently enough. You’d stepped out of the room for a moment, leaving Leo alone with Snappy. He knelt by the tank, admiring the little creature.

“Hey, Snappy,” he said softly, tapping the glass. “You’re kinda cute for a tiny guy, huh?”

Snappy blinked lazily, then, with a sudden burst of energy, launched himself at the glass, mouth open like a miniature shark.

Leo jumped back. “Whoa, easy there!”

But Snappy wasn’t done. In the blink of an eye, the turtle had somehow escaped the tank and was now on the floor, scuttling toward Leo with alarming speed.

“Uh, (Y/N)?” Leo called, backing away slowly. “We’ve got a situation!”

Snappy lunged at his foot, sharp little jaws snapping dangerously close. Leo dodged, but not before Snappy caught the edge of his bandana, tearing a small hole.

You'd better never know how that little turtle jumped so high.

“That’s it,” Leo muttered, drawing his swords. “I’m not losing to a turtle.”

When you returned, you found Leo standing on your couch, swords drawn, while Snappy circled below like a predator stalking its prey.

“What the heck is going on?” you asked, barely holding back laughter.

“This thing,” Leo said, pointing dramatically at Snappy, “is pure evil.”

You scooped up Snappy, who immediately went docile in your hands. “Oh, come on, he’s harmless.”

Leo shot you a look, holding up his torn bandana. “Harmless? Tell that to my gear.”

Snappy blinked innocently, and you swore you saw the tiniest smirk on his face.

Raph wasn’t easily intimidated. He was the biggest, strongest of his brothers, and he’d faced countless enemies without flinching. But nothing prepared him for Kai.

When you introduced your pet turtle, Raph had laughed. “This little guy? He’s adorable.”

Kai, however, seemed to take offense.

It started when Raph bent down to get a closer look. Kai stared at him, unblinking, before suddenly lunging at the glass. The force rattled the tank, and Raph blinked in surprise.

“Feisty, huh?” he muttered.

Moments later, while Raph was distracted, Kai somehow escaped. When Raph looked up, the tiny turtle was scaling his leg like a mountain climber.

“Whoa! Get off, you little psycho!” Raph yelled, trying to shake Kai loose.

But Kai held on, snapping at anything within reach. By the time you returned, your apartment looked like a tornado had hit it. Raph was standing in the middle of the chaos, and Kai perched victoriously on his shell.

“What happened?” you asked, wide-eyed.

“That thing,” Raph growled, pointing at Kai, “is a demon.”

You gently picked up Kai, who immediately nuzzled into your hand like the perfect angel.

Raph narrowed his eyes. “Yeah, sure, act all sweet now. I know the truth.”

Kai blinked at him, and for a moment, Raph swore he saw a glint of pure mischief in those tiny eyes.

Donnie had always been a man of science, fascinated by the natural world. When you introduced him to your pet turtle, he was intrigued.

“This is Rio,” you said, gesturing to the tank.

Donnie adjusted his goggles, leaning in for a closer look. “Fascinating. A testudine of this size usually displays docile behavior, but he's... ugly.”

Donnie forgot for a second that he was interacting with a turtle of the same species as him. But you preferred to keep it quiet.

Rio blinked up at him, deceptively innocent. Donnie tapped the glass lightly, and Rio responded by launching himself at it, teeth bared.

Donnie pulled back, his brow furrowing. “Interesting.”

While you were in the kitchen, Donnie began jotting down notes, observing Rio’s behavior. But when he turned back to the tank, the turtle was gone.

“The fuc—”

Before he could finish, Rio appeared on the coffee table, where there were some of Donnie's inventions. The tiny terror moved with precision, knocking over delicate equipment, biting through wires, and leaving a trail of destruction in his wake.

“No! Not the prototype!” Donnie yelled, lunging forward.

Rio evaded him effortlessly, scuttling under the table. By the time you returned, Donnie was on his hands and knees, the coffee table was a complete mess.

“What happened?” you asked, struggling to keep a straight face.

“Your pet,” Donnie said, holding up a chewed wire, “is a menace to society.”

You picked up Rio, who blinked innocently at Donnie. “He’s just a little curious.”

“Curious?” Donnie muttered, glaring at the tiny turtle. “He’s a walking disaster.”

Rio, of course, looked perfectly content, as if he hadn’t just destroyed hours of Donnie’s work.

Mikey was thrilled when you told him you had a pet turtle. “A little bro? No way!”

You brought him to the tank, where Ash was lounging on a rock.

“This is Ash,” you said.

Mikey leaned in, eyes sparkling. “Aw, look at him! He’s just like me!”

Ash, in response, lunged at the glass, snapping aggressively.

“Whoa, chill little dude,” Mikey said with a laugh. “He’s got some spice!”

While you stepped away to grab snacks, Mikey decided to introduce himself properly. “Alright, Ash, let’s be buds.”

He opened the tank to get a closer look. That’s when Ash made his move.

In a blur of tiny limbs, Ash escaped, landing on Mikey’s lap. At first, Mikey laughed, but then Ash began his reign of terror.

The tiny turtle scuttled across the room, knocking over Mikey’s skateboard, biting into a pizza box, and even shredding his skateboard design.

“Yo! Chill, dude!” Mikey yelled, chasing after him.

By the time you returned, Mikey was tangled in a mess of torn paper, pizza slices, and an upturned skateboard, with Ash sitting smugly on his chest.

“What the fu... What happened?” you asked, struggling not to laugh.

“Your turtle’s got mad ninja skills,” Mikey said, wide-eyed. “I think he’s trying to take over the world.”

You picked up Ash, who immediately snuggled into your hand. “He’s just a little energetic.”

Mikey sat up, shaking his head. “That little dude’s got more energy than I do.”

Ash blinked at him, and Mikey swore he saw a mischievous gleam in those tiny eyes. “I’ll be ready next time,” Mikey muttered, narrowing his eyes. “Game on, Ash.”

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Hello! May I just start by saying that your blog is one of the most helpful resources I've ever come across! The physiology of love has been particularly helpful for writing a very logically driven character who would absolutely go on a tangent about that kind of thing!

Now, I've encountered a recent roadblock in writing the relationship between that character and a very esoteric driven character (if you can't prove it with logic, they believe in it). The two are in a romantic relationship and get along very well, they respect and even make time to go to events regarding each other's interests/beliefs.

The problem is, they bond by debating. Like, they debate about the possibilities of the supernatural existing, do ghosts exist, etc. They don't argue, that's the key here. I... don't get it. To me, debating is arguing. If I believe something very strongly that I can back up with facts, I can get riled up in seconds if someone even jokingly goes against me.

Could you help me understand debating? Or even why some people do it to bond? It's my biggest struggle with writing these two characters and every time I try to research myself I just keep getting "benefits of debating" articles.

Hi! The first thing that came to mind after reading this was studies on sensation seeking.

Sensation seeking - the tendency to search out and engage in thrilling activities as a method of increasing stimulation and arousal.

Perhaps your characters experience debating as a thrilling activity.

Zuckerman's Sensation-Seeking Scale (SSS)

A questionnaire designed to measure the extent to which a person needs novel or exciting experiences and enjoys the thrills and excitement associated with them.

Contains 4 subscales, each containing items and phrases as a forced-choice between two distinct options:

First is thrill and adventure seeking, with items such as “I would like to try parachute jumping” versus “I would never want to try jumping out of a plane, with or without a parachute.” These items ask about desire for outdoor sports or activities involving elements of risk, such as flying and scuba diving.

The other scales are experience seeking (e.g., “I am not interested in experience for its own sake” versus “I like to have new and exciting experiences and sensations even if they are a little frightening, unconventional, or illegal”) These items refer to the seeking of new sensory or mental experiences through unconventional or nonconforming lifestyle choices;

disinhibition (e.g., “I like wild, uninhibited parties” versus “I prefer quiet parties with good conversation”). These items indicate a preference for getting “out of control” or an interest in wild parties, gambling, and sexual variety;

boredom susceptibility (e.g., “I get bored seeing the same old faces” versus “I like the comfortable familiarity of everyday friends”) reflected in items that refer to a dislike for repetition, routine work, monotony, predictable and dull people, and a restlessness when things become unchanging.

If we look at each subscale, perhaps your characters are high in "experience seeking" and "boredom susceptibility" and this might be reflected in their love of debating. As a whole, perhaps they both have what is called an HSS personality.

High Sensation-Seeking Personality

If you have this type of personality, it means you prefer to live your life with boundless energy and enthusiasm. You constantly seek out new experiences that will delight, surprise, stimulate and invigorate you – and you may indulge to excess.

Typical Characteristics of High Sensation-Seekers (HSS):

A continuous need for novel and diverse experiences that stimulate them*

A low boredom threshold*

Dislike of routines*

Doesn't respond well to authority or rules and regulations

May not be able to resist impulsive urges

A tendency to make unusual choices that may frighten those around them

HSS personalities often:

Are drawn to high-risk hobbies and sports

Build relationships that contain chaotic elements*

Like music, art and cinema that is daring and stimulating*

Challenge people by provoking raw and intense emotions*

Are fast and sometimes reckless drivers, which may be reflected in their history of accidents or speeding tickets

Become restless or depressed and even more desperate for exciting experiences if sensation is denied*

*Perhaps these characteristics and behaviours apply to your characters.

And we can always use The Five-Factor Model of Personality to help us understand certain traits and behaviours.

Using this model, we could say that your characters likely have high levels of openness and extroversion, and may not be as agreeable, to explain their love of debating.

(Of course, in reality, psychological tests and qualified assessors are needed to make these conclusions using these models, but I think that they can also be used by writers as guides for character building and development.)

Sources: 1 2 3 4 ⚜ More: Notes & References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

Thanks so much for your kind words! Really happy to hear the Physiology of Love post was helpful for you. Hope this one would be too :)

[alexanderwales]

Roguelite LitRPG Theorycrafting

I had a great idea for a litRPG that takes its inspiration from roguelites rather than JRPGs or Skyrim.

I do not have the time to write such a novel, and will not have time to write it into the foreseeable future. But I do have time for some theorycrafting:

A classic roguelite of the current generation has variable powers and powerups drawn from a small pool that change the character of the run over time. Maps and enemies are boundedly random. When you die, you might have some meta progression, which is usually in the form of unlocks. Sometimes this makes the game easier, but often it just adds in variety. You go until you win or die, and then you go again, starting from nothing.

To start with, I think this has to be a time loop, because it fits that pattern too well. I wrote a blog post about time loops, and would include some ideas and variations from there.

The protagonist starts every loop as a total scrub, but gets to select from a few options at the loop start (or just after) and then at either intervals or with things accomplished. The pool of powers needs to be fairly small, but large enough that we don't see repeats all that often. We want a protagonist who is forced to make the best of a bad situation.

There are a few cool things about this, but the biggest is that we get to see the protagonist solve the same problems in different ways. One one loop, getting into the compound is easy, because he has flight and invisibility, but on another loop, it requires a firefight because he's got a laser belly and can absorb flesh to regenerate. The protagonist presumably has goals, so we also have some stakes built in: all runs are not built the same. When you're on a "hot" run where it seems like everything is going your way, you can't immediately grind your way back to that if you fail. Stakes are one of the things that are sometimes lacking in time loops, so we're solving that problem as a byproduct.

Similarly, a weird power build can take the story in different places. You're able to walk through stone, and all of the sudden you realize that you can penetrate the defenses of the mage academy. You strike while the iron is hot, and uncover things that would, in a normal run, be locked away from you.

There are problems here. The biggest is that I think a lot of audiences would cry about the author's thumb being on the scale, because audiences will always cry about that no matter what. Which powers get offered to the protagonist on any given run will be under scrutiny though, and even things that aren't forced will feel like they might have been. Readers don't like that, particularly litRPG readers, who sometimes come to the genre for a sense of "fair play". I'm not sure there's a way around that, though this is one of the rare cases I feel like an author rolling dice might actually make sense, so long as it was done in a way that would be difficult to fake. This might make for a worse story though, since the author would have less control of the plot.

One of the other things that interests me is ... what if the world changed in the same way it does in a roguelite? In a normal time loop story, the world is static and predictable, but wouldn't it be interesting to write a story in a time loop that acted more like Rogue Legacy, where there are certain "anchors" and patterns to the world, but much that is random and different? The protagonist wakes in the same apartment building every time, but sometimes he's next to a park and other times it's a train station. There's a corner store three blocks away that's always exactly identical down to the misalignment of the Mars bars, always with the same woman with a streak of blue hair behind the counter. Is this meaningful, that everything changes except the things that inexplicably don't? Almost definitely. It's another mystery to unravel with every new run and a new, diverse set of powers under your belt.

There's a chance I write this at some point. There's always a chance. But I think sometimes it's good for me to sit down and think about the possibilities, then resign myself to moving on without devoting the next month's word count to something that's captured my fancy.

[kisaraslover]

first thing first Kaiba's blamed for his godlessness, lack of faith. a pretty conservative notion if not for the. uhh. canon gods and magic everyone frequently witnesses. but when i rewatch the first episode again for the 85th time i cant ignore the dichotomy drawn first, not between Kaiba and Yugi, no, between Kaiba and Grandpa Muto.

as annoyed as he would be to hear this, i think the biggest reconciliation he needed to have was with the only man with "Father" in his name, who preached faith, who sicced his loyal and faithful offspring on Kaiba to take him down, and the man who Kaiba fought for the fundamental symbol both of them claim. the impertinent youth scorned by traditional elder is such a classical, parental tale.

but since the compromise most mainstream family movies reach fucking sucks and is more often than not tipping the scales in the favor of -sometimes just straight up awful- parents, Kaiba would take 1 single step towards Grandpa Muto and not budge an inch. his whole entire story culminates in this: Blue Eyes IS more than power. ONLY Blue Eyes White Dragon. its his pride and soul, its his sole blessing and its the only thing he knows and believes in. which HAS to mean Grandpa Muto gives it up, by his own logic. the boy believes. the image of godless shameless drug addict sex pest youth suddenly melting down to something much less offensive. its the aging tradition finally accepting change. its the old man finally letting go of iron grip over the young man. illusion of control that was long rejected by the youth finally fading in the old mans mind. its him accepting kids will be alright, that there is strength and honor in their way of living, that scolding will never achieve what accepting and supporting definitely will.

its not that Kaiba is such a benevolent, generous, perfect good man worthy of forgiveness and approval suddenly. its that he, like everyone else, will live a life and be shaped by it, and the only thing this father figure can do is offer support. Kaiba would spit on his face if he knew Solomon Muto came to these, rather paternal, conclusions about him while handing over the taped BEWD card. but the old man is fine with that. he keeps his mouth shut, not to further shame the young man taking the card with his head bowed, eyes sad with reverence and regret. he isnt who the boy is bowing down to. hes happy to witness his faith at all. hes happy knowing he wont even mourn his own loss of the card from the joy of seeing the boy's love for it. that Kaiba didnt even ask for it, that he assumed Solomon would give it to him. thats what makes him happiest.

Kaiba's people first come to his shop a week after. they brought documents. deals with KC for his shop to be a minor partner, with selling privileges. he laughs heartily.

[skyrimbookquest]

Quill-Finder looked over the tiger. It was big, it was nasty. It looked over the argonian and let out an angry growl.

Quill-Finder smiled. looking down at the pit, she could still hear the bandit calling out for a new challenger. "Well..." she turned to Lydia, "Let's give him what he wants." she began opening the cage to the pit. first her side, then the bandit's side. he hadn't seemed to notice.

she then maneuvered to the Sabertooth's cage. she unlatched the lock, and climbed on top. gripping hold of the top of the gate and lifting, she could feel it coming loose.

Resigning herself to this stupidity, Lydia positioned herself next to Quill-finder, grabbing hold of the gate as well, giving a tug.

The Sabertooth grew excited. it could smell the blood in the air, and grew more restless as the gate lifted. just as the gate opened enough to squeeze through, the sabertooth slammed the cage with its body, jostling the entire structure.

Quill-Finder and Lydia tried to keep themselves steady. but while Lydia was able to regain balance, the argonian slipped.

Wham

Quill-Finder collided with the ground, letting out a yelp of pain. she winced as she regained her bearings and looked up.

Into the eyes of a very hungry, and very angry sabertooth.

with a panic, she planted her foot on the giant cat's nose with a kick, and scrambled to her feet, throwing out a quick oakflesh spell for protection.

her scales glowed a sickly green, and then a dull brown. what were once lizard scales caught the light in a different way. her flesh and scales appeared to take on a treebark texture. a protection spell. and while it wouldn't mitigate all the damage, it would help.

The sabertooth let out a roar, and pounced. Quill-Finder tried to move out of the way, but the cat lunged a paw out, clawing at the bark layer.

The sound of torn fabric rang out in Quill-Finder's ears. she winced, not from physical pain, but from the emotional anguish of her newly favorite attire being ripped to shreds.

where once there was a shirt, her belly was now exposed. the rest of the fabric on the sabertooth's claws.

"Quill-Finder!" Lydia called. she leaped from the top of the cage, sword drawn. she brought the blade down towards the beast.

the Sabertooth darted out of the way, the sword only skimming its shoulder. the sword dug into the ground. "Shit!" Lydia cursed. the Sabertooth let out a defiant roar before returning its attention to Quill-Finder.

it leaped towards her, this time managing to pin her to the ground before letting loose a flurry of claws, tearing through bark and barely scratching the the skin, thanks to the spell. in an act of desperation, Quill-Finder grabbed hold of that new-found strength she felt after killing the dragon and let out a shout.

"FUS!" the force pushed the Sabertooth back. It roared angrily at Quill-Finder as she brought herself back to her feet. Defiantly, she stood in front of the beast, what was left of her clothes in tatters, flames in hand.

Lydia, hearing the shout, and finally managing to dislodge her sword, watched in awe as Quill-Finder charged a fire spell in both hands. the room seemed to get colder as Quill-Finder focused, pulling as much energy in, and before letting loose the biggest firebolt Lydia had seen into the sabertooth.

It yowled in pain as it reeled from the blast, the bolt detonating in a firey explosion in the face of the beast. the smell of burning fur filled the room as the flames dissipated, leaving a charred and angry cat. in a final move of desperation, it lunged at a drained and out of breath Quill-Finder. she weakly put her arms to brace, her eyes closed shut. but the searing pain of claws never came.

two armored hands wrapped around the sabertooth, gripping tight. Lydia, holding the Sabertooth wrangled the creature to the ground, trying hard to stay out of reach of its massive paws. "Are you killing this thing, or what??" Lydia shouted at Quill-finder as she held down the flailing beast.

Quill-Finder blinked, and nodded her head. standing in front of the Sabertooth, she gripped her axe tight before plunging it into the cat's skull.

Slumping back, Quill-Finder held her hands out defiantly. covered in in a mix of her own blood and others. "See? not useless." she smiled.

Lydia let go of the beast, and let out a chuckle. "Alright, I admit, that was-- Thane!"

Before Quill-Finder could ask, an arm gripped her from behind. a sharp pain pierced through her back, until there was nothing more than a searing hot agony in her chest.

"Looks like I win again..." the bandit leader slurred. he retracted his blade, letting Quill-Finder fall to her knees and collapse to the ground.

whatever strength she had left felt so distant. she tried to scream, call to Lydia, anything. the most she could muster was a faint wheeze. her vision clouded as her eyes fluttered, trying and failing to stay open.

she could see the boots of Lydia rush towards the bandit. she could hear the sound of a shout of anger and the clashing of steel.

and all she could do is sit there dying. she would be angry, if she wasn't so scared.

her vision darkened. she could feel herself lifted into the air, slung over an armored shoulder. the body carrying her moved with a desperation and urgency that she hoped was her housecarl. Quill-Finder tried to hold on. say "I'm sorry." she gave one last wheeze, and then the world went dark.

[danganronpa-ship-tourney]

If you want to make propaganda you can view the submissions here but please know the second tab which also contains the reasonings submitted has like every TW so be prepared!

Right now the rules of the next section of the tournament are as followed

You WILL be civil to the shippers of the ship you think is worse, no I do not CARE if it's abuse or incest or the most problematic thing in the world, we will be CIVILIZED. If I catch you spewing toxic shit about how all shippers of a ship are horrible terrible people who need to die you WILL be blocked. We are not here for a guilt trip! We are here to have fun being dramatic! Small PLAYFUL pokes are fine, but everyone should have fun even the shippers of the ship you think is worse.

I shouldn't have to specify but be like, actually decent about what you say, I had a person in the forms wishing rape on a character and like bro take that up with your ao3 search results not me or anyone else here. So like, yeah the characters are just characters, but theres a difference between edge and potentially being intensely triggering and uncomfortable for literally no reason.

If you want to make propaganda I advise either light hearted gags at a ships expense,

Example of a light hearted gag would be like a picture of Junko sitting on Mikan kneeling into a bench and a caption like "would you really not vote for this?" thats hilarious and doesn't target actual people.

Or you draw art for the ship that gives you less despair, branch out a bit. Never drawn I dunno Ryoma x Kirumi before but you think its less toxic then uhh Hajime x Mikan? Well here's your chance to try drawing some Ryoma x Kirumi! Make propaganda for the ship you want people to NOT vote for!

I can't enforce this but the tag you want to use for anything you create for this should be "#Despair Ship" this is so people can filter it out more easily. I'm here to cause fun, not make people frustrated because their tag got overrun.

Again I also can't enforce this but remember the point isn't to find the ship that's the most abusive, or the most toxic, its to find the ship that gets the most despair. For instance there are very few ships on the list I find personally more despairing then kokichi and shuichi, and that's because it's a lot harder to stumble on some of the more kneejerk offensive ships compared to how I cannot escape kokichi and shuichi making out no matter how hard i try. Like I said I can't enforce this but if you're wondering why a ship you think is more inherently toxic is losing, this is probably the reason why.

I am also a single person, while I have a friend who is here on the sidelines cheering me on, I hand made the bracket and everything else about this. If the brackets aren't perfectly balanced or a ship you don't like didn't make the cut, remember that I am just a single person.

Voter fraud is allowed and encouraged I'm not a coward this is the voting fraud website if you're determined to make a thousand sock puppet accounts just to make sure Celeste x Togami is the winner then that's the biggest possible powermove and I respect it. Also I guess I accept bribes now, because I think it's funny.

Thank you for all the support I've gotten! While rather small scale compared to other polls, the fact I've got people sending asks and following means a lot to me. Even if I barely get any interaction from here out, I still had fun and am happy to have done this. Voting will either open Saturday or Sunday but if I forget and it's a day or too late then feel free to shake me in the asks by short term memory is Not Good

[electricbluebutterflies]

Hello I know these are a lot but for the ask game:

🕯️ ⇢ on a scale from 1 to 10, how much do you enjoy editing? why is that?

🍄 ⇢ share a head canon for one of your favourite ships or pairings

🦋 ⇢ share something that has been on your heart and mind lately 

🧩 ⇢ what will make you click away from a fanfiction immediately?

🌸 ⇢ do you have any pets? if you do, post some pictures of them

🐝 ⇢ tag your biggest supporter(s) and say one nice thing about them

🦴 ⇢ is there a piece of media that inspires your writing? 

🏜️ ⇢ what's your favourite type of comment to receive on your work?

Oh, this is a TREAT for me, thank you!

🕯️ ⇢ on a scale from 1 to 10, how much do you enjoy editing? why is that?

I don't edit. Like, ever. I let the concept flow through me and then post immediately. So... 1??

🍄 ⇢ share a head canon for one of your favourite ships or pairings

Let's do a broad one here that I think applies to almost everything I'm actively writing at the moment (with one exception y'all may try to guess if inclined) - all of my girls run colder than their respective partners and all of them are clingy during sleep as a result. Circumstances and size differences are irrelevant here, this is just as much a part of my Type as the personality dynamics I'm drawn to.

🦋 ⇢ share something that has been on your heart and mind lately 

I've been exploring my practical-femme side / what that actually means for me and the depth and the power of it and what to do next with it. Also, my position and interests within another one of my creative outlets are changing in a kinda surprising way so there's some reassessment going on there...

🧩 ⇢ what will make you click away from a fanfiction immediately?

Bad formatting / not enough paragraph breaks. Also, depending on the ship, some specific characterization choices make me nope out.

🌸 ⇢ do you have any pets? if you do, post some pictures of them

Right now I do not, sigh. Apartment barely has enough space for me let alone a little furry love.

🐝 ⇢ tag your biggest supporter(s) and say one nice thing about them

First three people who come to mind:

@judgmental-eyebrows - my non-romantic soulmate, best friend of 10 years and counting, constantly sending me gifsets of stuff we don't overlap on and listens to my rants about the same... I could go on, she's perfect and I love her

@tricksypixie - DOES at least know what's going on with all of my shinies because I drag him down with me, sends cute prompts for all the things

@missgrantscheerleader - only one overlap at the moment but she leaves the best comments on those fics

🦴 ⇢ is there a piece of media that inspires your writing? 

Not anything specific consistently, but whatever I've been listening to will find its way into what I'm turning out. Lately I've been in existential-crisis mode and that means a lot of Lana Del Rey and I think that comes through a bit...

🏜️ ⇢ what's your favourite type of comment to receive on your work?

I'm happy with any comments I get, but I do especially like when people highlight specific lines of dialogue they like. I think that's my greatest strength as a writer and I like the confirmation.

[adobe-outdesign]

Thoughts on the Spearow line? I feel like it needs something, like a mega or regional.

The Spearow line's always been one of those lines that just kind of Exists. It could be considered a meaner counterpart to the Pidgey line, but the Pidgey line at least has three stages (plus a mega) and a clear theme with the colorful long feathers, while the Spearow line has absolutely nothing.

Unsurprisingly, the biggest issue with this line is the lack of a theme or distinct visuals. The primary color is brown, and there's nothing that really makes the design pop in either stage. This makes both fairly forgettable and redundant in the face of the Pidgey line.

Anyway, Spearow's actual design is okay. I like how it's almost akin to a kestrel or shrike with the hooked beak, something usual for first-stagers. The red wings also provide a bit of color, though they're somewhat diluted by Gen 1's colors being under-saturated as a whole. I also find the underbelly interesting; it's drawn as if it were scaly, but as far as I can tell it's just meant to be feathery all around. Which is a shame, as a bird with reptilian scales on the underside would be a neat concept.

However, there are a few things visually that don't work that well. The black on the neck feels pointless, as you can barely see it underneath the head feathers. Said head feathers also feel very messy and awkwardly placed, screwing up any potential interesting patterns or colors it could've otherwise sported.

I think if you removed the bottom neck feathers and the black areas, made the tips of the head feathers red, and made the base of the tail feathers and legs black, you'd have a similar idea but with better color placement. As is, it's not bad, just kind of "meh".

Fearow at least gets a few point for having a really interesting body shape. It's a bird, sure, but it's a mix of various birds instead of just being based off one species. This unique body shape also prevents it from being too similar to the Pidgey line, which is far more hawk-like in its final stages.

However, Fearow still struggles with a lack of concept. Even the Pokedex doesn't have much to say about it, aside from the fact that it's a species that hasn't changed much over the years.

The visuals are also still an issue. It's got even more plain brown on it than Spearow, and there still isn't much of a strong visual focus. The red has unfortunately been reduced to only appearing on the head crest, and the black is gone completely (raising the question of why it was there to begin with). I could easily see it sporting a mostly black body with red at the top of the wings and on the tail, but alas. Like I said, the actual shape and monster-y look is fine, but it still needs something else to stand out.

I think the best thing to do with this line might be a regional. An evolution/mega evo/other gimmick from wouldn't be bad, but Fearow already looks pretty powerful and there's not a lot to build off of in a way that would feel justified. With a regional, the line could get a refresh and a theme, maybe even a new typing.

One possibility would be to make it flying/dark, as the line is noted to be aggressive. Maybe Fearow's beak is extra long and it's mentioned it stabs other Pokemon with it, like a bizzaro shrike. Or perhaps a regional becomes more color in order to mimic Ho-Oh; we've never gotten a convergent line that's a pre-existing species, so that could be a potentially interesting angle to look into. They really look similar already, and the colors and markings could ultimately be different enough to still make them distinct.

So overall: this line is fine, but pretty underwhelming. The concept (or lack thereof) and plain visuals leave us with two potentially interesting birds that are ultimately overshadowed by other, better bird lines. Hopefully GameFreak revisits this one sometime soon.

[denimbex1986]

'If there's one thing Wild Blue Yonder has proven about Doctor Who, it's that the show was in dire need of a real space oddity.

Russell T Davies returning to the beloved sci-fi was overwhelmingly exciting for a huge amount of reasons but one of the biggest for me is that he knows just how to write a truly weird episode of Doctor Who - and when I say weird, I mean really quite unhinged.

The second 60th anniversary special, which saw David Tennant's Fourteenth Doctor and Catherine Tate's Donna Noble return, was mysterious from the off, with Davies not wanting to spoil anything about it, even swerving questions in interviews and Q&As when conversations turned towards it - and clearly for good reasons.

It had the luxury of being out there because The Star Beast did all the groundwork. The introductions and re-introductions have been dealt with, the meta-crisis is basically solved, we've had not one but two aliens of the week, and the Doctor and Donna are back in the TARDIS on their way to who knows where? Cue a huge, and completely bizarre, adventure.

Making a pit stop in 1666 to slightly interrupt Sir Isaac Newton's discovery of gravity (oh hi Nathaniel Curtis), the pair end up on a spaceship at the edge of the universe, facing a very slow countdown to self-destruction. Along the way, they meet terrifying deadly doubles of themselves with just a spot of body horror for good measure.

From the off, Wild Blue Yonder is a bit unsettling and really gets into its stride in what could have been a filler scene with the Doctor splitting off from Donna to fiddle about with some spaceship parts. With the episode beautifully cutting between the two rooms, neither the Doctor nor Donna are alone, instead joined by very creepy doubles who have their memories, mentioning Gallifrey, and Donna's grandfather Wilf.

Tennant and Tate's performances have always been brilliant but they reach new heights as their characters are forced to confront gigantic replicas of themselves with sprawling arms and gaping jaws, complete with horrifying smiles. It's certainly not a completely unique concept, with comparisons surely set to be drawn with at least Jordan Peele's Us. But it's executed brilliantly.

It's the perfect question to present to the characters and one that can only be presented with these specials as the Doctor and Donna reunite - can they tell each other apart from an imposter? It's also beautifully simple. After the busyness of The Star Beast, and what looks set to be utter wonderful chaos in The Giggle, we needed a full episode of the Doctor and Donna together. Little did we know we'd get double for our money, plus a beautiful moment with the late Bernard Cribbins at the end.

Doctor Who is no stranger to being completely weird. Many of the most iconic, and most widely loved stories are - including Midnight, Blink, and The God Complex. Some of the weird ones are more divisive (looking at you, Love and Monsters) but Doctor Who wouldn't be Doctor Who without them. As well as the Time Lords and the companions, the Master and the monsters, weirdness is in the very fabric of Doctor Who.

Amid the Disney deal which is bringing Doctor Who into a new era, it's one of the things the show can't and won't let go of and one of the things that makes it so different to everything else on TV. Seeing Davies so seamlessly bring us a new truly mad episode - one that will have non-Whovians wandering into the room and gawping in complete confusion - is just what we needed.

I'm still waiting for perfection from Davies' 60th anniversary specials but Wild Blue Yonder is nearly there. It brings back what I loved about Doctor Who from Davies' first era, with added budget and the scale that affords, giving us a properly bizarre and mysterious adventure.

Long live Doctor Who being absolutely unhinged.'

[black-arcana]

ALBUM REVIEW: Worlds Collide Tour – Live In Amsterdam – Within Temptation

WITHIN TEMPTATION embark on a symphonic odyssey live in Amsterdam with a new visual and audio experience recorded at their posthumous 2022 Worlds Collide Tour. The show, rescheduled no less than four times from the beginning of the pandemic, marked the homecoming of the Dutch gothic rockers, who co-headlined the sold-out tour with alternative behemoths EVANESCENCE. Released alongside a 64-page hardcover artbook, the live recording chronicles the band’s most iconic releases of the last three decades, drawn from their eight studio albums. 

The stage is set with steampunk paraphernalia, including a supersized mechanical head whose eyes ominously glows within the gloom. The blackened recording of Winston Churchill’s first broadcast as prime minister, with echoes of the Nazi’s seemingly-unstoppable occupation of France in 1940, swells into a symphonic explosion of string instruments. Our Solemn Hour the opening song is commanding and gripping, providing powerful agency for those in the crowd and watching at home. 

The show continues full steam ahead with Faster, which is energising, but perhaps a little too early in the show as it is arguably their biggest hit with the most Spotify listens. Paradise (What About Us?) hits harder with live vocals from the crowd. Vocalist Sharon den Adel breaks to reflect on the “crazy things happening in the world right now” pushing into Stand Your Ground. Adel is then lifted into the air, with blazing phoenix wings, for the beginning of Angels. Standout moment. 

EVANESCENCE‘s Amy Lee joins the band on stage to conquer The Reckoning. The vocalists match and compliment their vast ranges with cascading choruses, and a powerful moment is captured as Adel and Lee lock hands as the song finishes. Adel hits notes with stunning accuracy, letting her voice shine in every song. Musically the recording is tight, but sonically begins to veer during Supernova, as the poppy riffs seem almost out of place in a show with such ferocity. Dedicated to Adel‘s late father, this track is held up by its emotion, but the Runescape synths don’t produce enough power to match the rest of the set. 

The set then follows with some of the industrial outfit’s newer tracks, including Don’t Pray For Me, which at the time of recording came from their not-yet-released but anticipated album Wireless. The song is an impressive display of the band’s capabilities, but the pre-recorded voiceover is jarring in a live setting. Adel is hoisted into the air again for All I Need, which contrasts wonderfully against the intense power of the previous sets. The ballad gives the set the much needed breathing room it needs, before the band leaves to begin the encore. Adel thanks the crowd before Ice Queen begins to play, a throwback that goes down spectacularly with the crowd singing back to the band. They finish with Mother Earth, an uplifting ending that provides the endnote a set of that scale needs. 

The live album is sonically mixed well, and compliments the playing on stage. Visually it’s spectacular both in the design of the stage but also the lighting that really packs a punch. Industrial riffs melt into the cool synths, as the band commands at times the impressive pyrotechnics. Most importantly, the crowd empowers the band, reacting to their every move with devil horns like a glue that holds the recording together. Tight drums set the standard of the sound in the Ziggo Dome with tenacity, and ultimately WITHIN TEMPTATION prove that they can provide a powerful experience for anyone watching.

Rating: 7/10

[mokadevs]

Recently finished fgo’s olympus so here are some bleary unorganized thoughts on it and my frustrations before i drift off to sleep

i think my biggest problem with olympus is that it over promises.

I think that the set up is amazing. Not referring to atlantis, though atlantis was great as everyone and their mother has said, but the whole sequence of a) entering olympus and b) exploring olympus is incredible. I think its one of the peak examples of fgo constantly being able to make you feel like their are Actual stakes in the narrative despite you as a player knowing that the tree will inevitably be cut and you’ll see the cosmos denied screen flash by again. Running through the city

Hell, Demeter’s entire entrance was bone chilling. I think she has the best mech design of the olympus gods in my biased opinion, and seeing her drop down before the animated screech she lets out that destroys the city was incredible. Truly the first time i saw it i went Holy Shit.

Then… i wont say the lostbelt flops after that but there were a few key areas that it left me wanting.

Personal preference out of the way, ill say the constant deus ex machinas - whether it be for the good guys or the bad guys (if the bad guy has a deus ex machina, is it called that?? Anyway) - started to get a little irritating after a while. The stakes were so, so high at the start, and demeters victory felt so barely clawed for with so many bits and pieces coming together that certain other fights felt like. “Well, okay then.” The twins revealing caligula and then saying “we didnt wanna say we had him for dramatic effect!” was really eye roll worthy, for example, and to be honest i dont really understand how we were able to shmoove our way out of aphrodites mind control hellscape, which was annoying after again i loved demeters fight So much

ill note there that these are things that didnt work for ME, in MY OPINION im sure other people feel other ways about it and i am happy for them for it :]

I think that parts of the lostbelt felt… rushed, and i didnt feel like the power scaling of chaldea matched narratively. With how much trouble we had for a single fighter at the start, i felt like in universe things got too easy with too little justification.

I was really disappointed with dioscuris writing, and also weirded out by the fact that there were twin humans and twin gods but very little was drawn about their connection…?? I was so certain that they would have some sort of relationship, or at least a cool narrative foil, but all we got was the twin humans hating the dioscuri because they killed their friends, and a cheap line about adele criticizing the girl twin for always following what her brother said.

I feel mixed about chaos, because in the moment i was emotionally moved but in retrospect it feels like a bit of a cheap non-foreshadowed reason for musashi to die epicly. Though maybe it was foreshadowed and i missed it; ill have to reread, but for now it just feels Too out of the blue to feel good.

But i think the thing that i think i disliked the most was “actually zeus was going to fuck off in the end and abandon the humans here letting them die so this lostbelt was evil from the start and gudako is objevtively right for this”

And like. Thats so AGGRAVATING for the lostbelt that was drummed up to be the one that would give us the most trouble, the lostbelt that was supposed to be the model one.

What i really wanted out of this lostbelt was a lostbelt that was objectively better than earth. That really? The only reason we could justify destroying it was for our own survival. Not because the lostbelt was in some way flawed, but because we have no other choice. With how sickly killing the first lostbelt felt, i really wanted lostbelt 5 to blow me out of the park with the emotional weight of killing a world and it just. didnt even try. It threw in some half assed line about why this lostbelt was well and truly evil

Which like! Honestly if it had been done well enough i couldve been fine with, couldve been happy with. But the twist that zeus actually was going to fuck off? That chaos was going to destroy all the humans anyway?? That zeus brainwashed the other gods to his side anyway????? I felt zero sympathy in destroying this lostbelt and i wanted to, SO badly

And i am All Here for a more in depth take on how humans have twisted robots into gods. How these ronots thought they could love humans but didnt hold the capacity for it!!! Honestly that concept is super cool!! I liked it!!! But like. The way it was delivered left a bad taste in my mouth. I wanted to care more about the tragedy it had wrought.

I wish that zeus’ defeat was something like… in attempting to defeat zeus, chaldea accidentally/maybe on purpose? Endangers the people of olympus. And through the motions of protecting them, zeus burns and falls to ruin. And as he lays there, he realizes that as much as he wants to care for these people hes protecting, he doesnt. And hes dying for what he feels is nothing.

If i put more thought to it i could come up with more ways the god plotline couldve been bettered on. But like. A third act twist where the reader is reassured that this lostbelt is undeniably evil is really one of the worst options they couldve taken at that point. Basically everything else i can forgive but that felt really sour in my mouth

And finally . I loved kirschtania and caenis i did cry. I could say more on them but itd be fairly incoherent especially when im this tired. Just know that i really really like them

[ryxmas]

for the wol think thonkers, 4, 8, 11, 18, 24, 27! i know its been a minute so i can link you the post again if you need it lol

4. What do they do in their down time? Do they have any hobbies outside of Primal-slaying and world-saving? Are these lifelong hobbies or recent interests?

The main thing is that Solara's a tinkerer! Before he came to Eorzea, he was working under (and eventually became) a Goldsmith in Kugane. It’s something he picked up when he was in his teens after seeing these items at Reunion from a foreign merchant that no one was interested in buying. So some of his downtime in ARR was spent with the Goldsmith's guild. Some of it translated well to machinery which he also found himself drawn to, especially after his time with the Skysteel Manufactory. A lot of his ARR and HW and early StB post patch was spent learning from and working with the Ironworks and Skysteel Manufactory. Which contributes to why those groups know him better than the Scions for most of the story. When shit really hits the fan and he doesn’t have the time to work with either the Ironworks or the Manufactory, he puts that creative energy towards his own weapons. Making and repairing stuff is how he eventually connects with the rest of the Crystarium. So some of the Crystalline Mean quests are canon since he does that during his recovery period in post ShB. And I imagine that he becomes a bit of an omnicrafter (sans Alchemist and Culinarian) over the game's timeline. I haven’t decided how post EW looks for him in terms of hobbies though. And I gotta think about some other smaller scale hobbies he might have lol. 

8. What is one of their biggest regrets? Has it had an effect on how they act moving forward, for better or worse?

Choosing just one of his biggest regrets is hard so here’s some back to back lol. There’s several that are kind of in the same ballpark. His behavior to the Scions during Shadowbringers are pretty up there (and more so the latter). And he works towards making amends throughout Shadowbringers post patch and Endwalker. Not quite as high of a regret are his interactions with Hien. He doesn’t regret interfering with Hien’s plans in Stormblood in the slightest, but he does know he took it a lot further than he reasonably should have, which is what he feels bad about specifically. And those two have a bumpier road to reconciliation. I've yet to explore how or if Solara's Myste would manifest (if they do) regarding his guilt over the people he could not save and the people whose lives he unintentionally negatively affected. And among his regrets competing for the top spot are Haurchefant and Ysayle's deaths. He didn't get to know some of the others (e.g. Minfilia, Papalymo, and Moenbryda) to have massive regrets over them, but Haurchefant and Ysayle were some of his closest friends during that point in time. And because Solara only becomes a tank after Heavensward, I think it would make sense if he picked up tanking specifically because of Haurchefant and Ysayle (both of whom are tanks) dying. But these events (and honestly Ishgard as a whole) feeds into his general distrust of city state leaders when he knows they’re hiding things, which affects his perception of and behavior towards Hien and the Exarch later down the line. And I want to say that especially after Ysayle dies is when Solara becomes a lot more hesitant to connect with new people in his life, at least until ShB post patch. 

11. Despite everything, is it still you? Has the core of who they are as a person remained true through everything, or have they been changed by what they've experienced and learned, for better or worse? 

No. Solara has pretty solidly changed on two major facets (and Shadowbringers was his "get torn down and rebuilt from the rubble" arc). The first is that events of the story wore away the ambition that he had before he came to Eorzea. And the way his initial dream of “I want to Khan and Khagan” became such a shitfest that he’s very averse to both ideas now. I need to figure out how long Solara is Khagan because the Naadam is a yearly event. While he doesn't want to, for the sake of being involved in the politics of the region, he might continue to participate until some time in Endwalker/Endwalker post patch where he decides to stop being involved in the Naadam (because I HC that each expansion is roughly one year). And even after EW, I think Solara is a bit aimless now that there isn’t a giant existential crisis. He’s picked up the pieces of his interpersonal life and has made a lot of repairs, but hasn’t really figured out what he wants for himself. The other is that Solara becomes a lot more selfless and heroic as a result of everything. This is a “The mask becomes him” situation where there was a lot of heroism that Solara did early on that grated against him because he thought that’s what he should do in his position (and what he thought his brother would do) and not necessarily what he wanted to do. But it slowly does just become the way he naturally thinks and sees things. Like I imagine early Solara to have thought processes similar to ARR Alphi, he just didn’t act on them because he’s just more aware of how to handle people and that behavior doesn’t suit the WoL image he was trying to craft. And I also have to give a lot of credit to the twins for inspiring him in this regard, especially Alphinaud because Solara sees so much of himself in Alphinaud that there’s a level of “Alphinaud grew and learned and succeeded in a way Solara wished he did”. And that’s not a tone of envy, but of deep admiration and beaming pride. 

18. How do they feel about the work they do? As the Warrior of Light they're tasked with quite a lot of violence, is it something that comes naturally to them or do they resist it? Are they merciless, do they try to spare as many lives as they can, or do they fall somewhere in between?

The first part of this question is already loaded, damn LOL. But I don't think Solara likes being the WoL. He'd really rather it wasn't him, but this is what the situation is and he has to deal with it. He likes helping people, or perhaps more accurately he's grown to liking it. He likes that he's making a difference. But he wishes at the end of the day, it didn't end up all falling to him. 

As for the questions regarding violence, I honestly think Solara's indifferent to it. To a large extent, violence has always been a part of Solara's life or at least hanging over him as a specter. From his mother taking him to flee the Garlean occupation of Doma, to growing up on the Steppes and losing his adoptive brother during a Naadam, to even the fact that his heritage from Doma is that of being bodyguards to the royal family. He just takes it as a fact of life and in a fucked up way, it comes naturally to him when he’s in a situation that calls for it. He isn't going out of his way to take lives, but he isn't making an effort to spare people (unless told to). Not including extreme cases like Zenos, (so mostly talking about foot soldiers on the opposite side of the battlefield here) it makes little difference to him if he takes someone out by killing them or knocking them out. With some exceptions I can think of being parts of StB (e.g. anything on the Steppes and also he might be more careful to not kill soldiers that might be conscripted from the nations he's trying to help free) and fighting tempered after they find a cure. 

24. How do they feel about Hydaelyn? What was their perception of the Mothercrystal in the beginning, and how did that change by the end, if at all?

I haven't put too much thought into Solara's belief system to be honest, or if he's even a religious person. I don't know if it makes sense for him to pay any mind to Hydaelyn until the initial calls though. And the initial calls from Hydaelyn and awakening the Echo were pretty distressing to him. And he's always had a buried fear that he might actually be tempered somehow due to Ifrit's comment back in ARR and the uncertain nature of the Echo. This fear only gets exacerbated during ShB. And also after shit hits the fan during late ARR post patch with Moenbryda dying because he doesn't have the Blessing of Light at that moment and then Minfilia disappears and becomes the Word of the Mother, Solara has a largely negative opinion of Hydaelyn for most of the story. And then Hydaelyn remains silent, which doesn’t help the situation. But contextualizing this over what he learns in Endwalker and thinking about Hydaelyn in the context of Venat makes everything click for him. He likes, trusts, and understands Venat. He retains complicated feelings over everything, but he doesn't have an explicitly negative opinion anymore. Because Venat the Ancient who chose what she thought was the best possible action in a slew of only terrible choices is a lot more easy to accept and forgive than Hydaelyn the faceless, unacting, Mothercrystal who intervened once to keep her weapon alive but not any of his allies. Hydaelyn made Solara feel like a tool and a puppet and Venat made him feel like a friend and accomplice, which made all the difference. 

27. How well known are they? Does everyone know their name as the Warrior of Light, or have they managed to maintain some level of anonymity? Do they prefer it that way, and do they have any struggles resulting from it? (Getting stopped on street corners VS awkwardly avoiding questions.)

Solara being a max height Au Ra is just going to get noticed lol. Especially since there aren't many of them outside of the Eastern regions, which are the regions he's most often in anyways lol. I don't think he can go anywhere after Stormblood, and especially after Endwalker, without being noticed. So it's probably an “everyone knows his name” situation, especially in the East because he was a political figure there for some time. He does wish he retained some anonymity but people generally leave him be. His resting bitch face is canon and deters a good number of people off. And also his (self) destructive behavior during Stormblood post patch was pretty public and also scared many people off. It's one of those situations where the people that do talk and interact with him (which are often children) say he's nice and friendly (late Stormblood post patch excluded) and everyone else is like ??????

[maniacwatchestheworld]

I love how Batman gets knocked the fuck out by Two-Face hucking a coin at him here. I wonder how much a silver dollar minted in 1922 actually weighs, because I don't think that I've ever seen one in person before. But according to my dad who has presumably seen them in person before says that they were actually quite large. Like often times Two-Face's silver dollar looks comically large in some of these panels. Actually it might be more to scale when it's drawn as a larger coin than a smaller one.

So here are some coins I have. Sometimes Two-Face's coin is depicted as a quarter. Often his silver dollar is portrayed as being about the size of the Susan B. Anthony dollar coins. This Australlian 50 cent coin was the biggest piece of actual currency that I could find around the house... But apparently actual silver dollars as they would have been printed in 1922 would have been closer to the size of the novelty Pokemon Sword and Shield coin that you see here than any of the others... According to my dad at least.

So apparently Two-Face's coin is actually a big ol' honkin' thing! Maybe it would have been heavy enough to knock someone out with a good throw! Because let me tell you. This novelty coin is not very heavy at all. Its probably made out of tin or something. Makes a good sound when it's flipped tho.

[raytm]

southernwood :   how seriously does your muse take themself ?   do they prefer a solemn   &   intellectual atmosphere or do they delight in jokes   &   banter ?  / @tenshujo salvia : is your muse possessive over people or things that matter a lot to them ? how do they express that possessiveness , or lack thereof ? / @starspurn amaryllis :   what is something or someone that your muse takes pride in ?   how do they express that pride ?   goldenrod :   does your muse believe in luck or fortune ?  why or why not ?   where do they believe these things come from ?  sunflower :   what brings your muse the most joy in life ? / @dupliciti

sparkle does not take herself seriously, however, a satirical take on the concept of solemnity is very much a farce she would participate in. she revels in a transposing identity, in being able to accurately discern and replicate if not create of her own volition, people, histories, truths. she can find delight in many a place, both in the asinine and in the most severe. inherently, she is not one to tie herself to a true sense of severity, i think one of the biggest parts of what makes me intrigued about sparkle as a character is the fact that she appears untethered to most things and able to delve into a great many without any particular, lasting attachment to them. she could take herself very seriously, or not seriously at all, depending on the circumstance and if it were to her own elation.

to a degree, yes, but aren’t all people. is what i feel she would tell you but, she gives off a certain degree of not being restrained by concepts such as possessions or people. however, perhaps this is interchangeable also, considering her mask, the girl who preceded sparkle, who gave sparkle her identity ( or perhaps she didn’t, again it’s impossible to tell with her because she has such a penchant for lying or making things more interesting than they are ) was maybe someone / something that she is possessive of. reading her lore makes me inclined to believe that the person sparkle is now emerged from that initial spark, so it would be that spark which birthed her elation, thus she may be protective / possessive of it. It’s her’s after all. But she also gives off the vibes that she would be pettily possessive over things just to see the way it makes others feel / riles them up. 

she takes pride in her performance, in her capacity to deceive others with her immaculate impressions. she spent a great deal of time studying others in order to be able to personify them, to wear their face and play their role. she expresses this in her splendid acting, be it small scale, or large scale, where eyes can fall upon her is where she’s drawn to being. I do not think there is much she takes in pride for apart from this, it seems to be where she draws her elation from and where her identity emanates from. I think it would be rather amusing if sparkle had say, small rituals she did before certain performances / acts that she believes, perhaps with a sort of ingenuous flair, enhance if not guide the course the act will take. perhaps innately linked backed to aha and knowing that which satiates the laughter also satiates herself. luck is bestowed upon her because she plays the part designated for her, if that is guileless belief then perhaps, she is indeed so.  elation, steeping herself in the delirium that arises from anarchy. sparkle revels in the uninhibited essence of her own elation at any given time, causing other’s strife, witnessing the marionette perform in the way she has devised for it, seeing plans come to a splendid, anarchic fruition. she also enjoys saccharine snacks, effervescent beverages. she is someone who can enjoy both life's intricacies and its simplicities. another thing she truly enjoys is being able to deceive others with her imitations, with the time she dedicates to studying, comprehending and purloining others mannerisms there’s something quite satisfying about the look of credence on their faces when their friend has been replaced and they are none the wiser.