#tip 2 is be aware of what enemies you struggle with and avoid them until you can level up. never be afraid to quit and come back when

[lord-shitbox]

Beating Hollow Knight Steel Soul: A Guide

part 1: general tips!

if you're about to die hit esc/pause and quit to menu

[luckyasfuck]

maybe i just wanna be yours [k. bakugou]

A CAMBOY AU SERIES - PARTS 1, 2, 3, 4, [5]

pairing // katsuki x female reader

tw // cussing, smut

warnings for this part // oral (m and f recieving), hair pulling, face-fucking, exhibitionist kink, spanking, praise, dacryphilia

theme // enemies to lovers au, camboy!katsu au, college student!katsu and reader au, no quirk au

keys // y/n

words // 1.8k

a/n // IM SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG I DONT DESERVE YALL. pt 6 at 250 likes and 20 reblogs btw!

previous part

y/n has been alone in the library for about an hour now. she didn’t notice katsuki’s absence until she had to change subjects to study, too indulged in the textbook to look up. no messages were given by katsuki about him being late and she grumbled, rolling her eyes. she writes the name of the textbook on top of the page in her notebook and the library door swings open. 

a calm katsuki walks towards her, ash blonde hair kinda messy and his black hoodie all over the place. with an eyeroll, y/n went back to writing on her notebook while handing the textbook she just used to him. “you’re la-”

“why’d you block me?”

the sentence made the girl look at him with a glare. her hand stops writing, her body stiffens and her hands start to sweat. “what the fuck are you talking about?” she avoids his strong gaze, looking back down on her notebook. katsuki fumes at this, pulling out his phone as she started to write again.

the notebook is closed harshly, a phone being slammed down on it as it displayed her account and the block message. she looked up at the fuming boy as he gripped his phone tight, gazing down at her. “none of your fucking business.” she replied, putting the cap on her ballpoint pen. about to glare at him again, a gasp erupts from her throat when he grips the collar of her shirt, pulling her towards him.

“why’d you block me?” katsuki’s breath fanned right on her lips, his eyes locked right into hers. she sends a death glare his way, grabbing his wrist and detaching it from her collar. “it was the right thing to do and you know it.” the blonde rolled his eyes as y/n dusted her shirt off, fixing her collar. “great, now it’s loose.”

heavy steps make the h/c turn her head to the sound, only to be grabbed by the shoulders and sat down harshly. katsuki towered over her, “unblock me now.” 

“i see no reason to.” stray students walked inside the library and y/n is quick to shove katsuki away from her, they chatter and sit on a table near the front. they don’t acknowledge the two students who were here before them as they laughed loudly. 

y/n sighs, mood completely ruined by the dumb blonde and class skippers. speaking of the dumb blonde, he eyes the students as well, dragging a chair and sitting down beside y/n right before she got up to return the textbook. vermillion eyes stare right into her ass before they’re torn away by her voice, “go get a fucking textbook.” 

the math section is where it all goes downhill.

hands show up either side of y/n as she’s reading through the contents of the math book. about to turn around, she stiffens when a warm, sculpted body presses up against her back. 

katsuki’s crotch brushes up against her rump, his pecs right against her back. “what the fuck are you doing?” the pressed up girl returns the textbook to its original place, trying to even out her breaths. the blonde moves back a little, a hand gripping y/n’s shoulders to turn her around. “will you stop pushing me around?! you- mhmp!” 

a pair of lips slams against hers mid-sentence, a tongue instantly prodding against her lips asking for entrance. the hands encaging her roam her body, one staying put on her hips. “don’t you ever shut the fuck up?” katsuki slurred against her lips as y/n put her hands on his chest, “says you.” 

the next thing the blonde knows, he’s pinned to a shelf. the shelf falters slightly but this doesn’t bother y/n, instead she presses herself against him while connecting their lips once again. 

now that was definitely unexpected. 

“you want it or nah?” katsuki pulls away, hands disappearing underneath her shirt. “i’m afraid you’ll be too loud.” he smirked, groping her left boob. “me? too loud?” y/n tilts her head to the side, her hand traveling downwards to squeeze the males evident bulge, making him whine out quietly. “says you.”

“i’ve watched enough of your stupid lives to know how loud you can be.” the students chatter loudly in the distance, making the both of them aware of their presence. for some reason, the librarian wasn’t here to check up on the shelves every now and then. perfect, y/n thought as she got on her knees, grazing her fingernails along the side of katsuki’s bulge. his cock twitches under her palm as he covers his mouth, breathing heavily. 

his cock was pretty. of course, she’d seen it on multiple lives, but seeing it right infront of her, his pink tip leaking and his veins throbbing. it hit different. without warning, her lips encage his cock head, licking at his the pre-cum dripping down his slit. a beautiful moan escapes from katsuki’s parted lips as he threw his head back onto the shelf filled with books. chatter and footsteps approach the both of them, growing louder by the second. 

“hey, sto-” katsuki warns, trying to push the girl away from his cock. the students walk to the section of shelves right behind them, laughing about getting a book named whatever that was. ignoring the statement, y/n pushes his cock deeper into his mouth, hollowing her cheeks and swirling her tongue around. the weight of it felt amazing against her tongue as she slowly fit all of him in, struggling and gagging. she pulls away, a thin string of saliva connects her to his cock. 

“oh don’t stop now.” katsuki glared, grabbing the back of her head and pushing her back. “fucking suck it, so these students right behind us knows whose cock you’re choking on, yeah? it’s my cock.” for reasons unknown, the students behind them didn’t hear a thing, probably too busy being idiots. y/n only nods, continuing her job, stroking the places she can’t reach. “poor girl, you need help?” 

a harsh grip on her hair and she gags audibly again, hoping the idiots behind katsuki didn’t hear it. slowly, he started fucking himself with her mouth, admiring the way she looked up at him, saliva drooling down her jaw and onto the floor. the tip of his cock hits the back of his throat and he groans. “did you hear that?” a slightly muffled voice asks and the laughter and noise ceases. y/n and katsuki’s hearts drop, but she can’t stop now, could she?

with a faster pace, she starts sucking again, looking up at katsuki with a smirk. “we should go check.” they hear and y/n’s heart pace picks up, licking at the prominent vein of the blonde’s cock. “fucking filthy exhibitionist.” he mouths as the group of students start to investigate. right about to catch the dirty doings of the duo, they’re called by the remnants of their friend group to go get food. “too bad,” he threw his head back, hard footsteps and chatter slowly disappearing in the distance until the library door finally closes, leaving the room silent. “they didn’t see me fill your throat with cum.” he says, finally shooting his load into your mouth. 

the library consists now of katsuki’s moans and y/n audibly gagging here and there. “your turn.” the next thing she knew, she was bent over the desk they were studying at. “we were supposed to study, weren’t we? okay.” he let out a deep chuckle, opening the textbook she used to study. “page 357, what is knowledge?” the cold breeze of the air-conditioned library made her shiver as he hoisted her skirt up, groping her ass and thumbing her clit. “i... i haven’t gotten to that page ye-”

spank.

“ow, fuck!” the slap stung, and katsuki chuckled, kneading her ass cheek with the same hand he used to spank it. a thumb grazing the wet patch in her panties. “page 17, what is psychology?” y/n gulps, legs quivering. “scientific study of... of mental process and behavior...” the tension is thick when he doesn’t speak, she tries to look back at him to see what he’s doing only to be cut off by a moan when one of his fingers dig inside her, slowly moving in and out. “the more correct answers you give, the faster i go. the more wrong answers you give, the slower i go. understood?”

“u-understood.”

“page 137, when was behaviorism introduced?” fuck, y/n didn’t like numbers. katsuki stops moving his fingers and she whines, trying to pry her brain for the answer. “1913...?” a sigh leaves her lips when he starts moving again, a little faster now. “good girl.” this went on for ten more questions, her ass stinging, legs giving up, and tears rolling down onto the table. she had already cum twice, mind becoming hazier and hazier with each question. “that’s it baby, one more question. page 270, which theory of abnormal behavior stresses the importance of current experiences and the persons view of themselves?”

y/n felt his cock prodding at her entrance and she whines, thrusting back to try and get it inside of her. katsuki puts the book down, gripping her hips and pinning her wrists above her head. “nope, answer the question first.” he teases, rubbing her slit up and down with his cock. “existential theories.” she answered proudly, a small oh, yes leaving her lips when he slowly bottoms out inside of her. “good girl, you like being fucked out here? when anyone can walk in and see you?” 

the size of his cock was amazing, it felt amazing. the females eyes lull shut, gripping down at the table with her fingers as katsuki picked up his pace, heavy balls slapping her clit with each thrust. y/n can only nod, face contorting in pleasure as skin slapping, her whines and his grunts bounced off the four walls of the library. “good girl.” he says for the millionth time, bending over to give her shoulder blade a kiss. “fuck! g-gonna cum again!” she warns, legs shaking and sobs leaving her lips. 

“so pretty when you cry,” katsuki whines out, thrusts growing sloppier and faster. “so. fucking. p-pretty.” a loud moan escapes both of their lips and his hips stutter, shooting his load inside her. he thrusts a few more times, prolonging their orgasm. soon, he pulls out and they’re both panting. with a swift movement, he spanks her ass one last time before pulling her panties up, keeping his cum inside. 

y/n is still fucked out, drool and tears all over her face as she got up from the table. katsuki grabs a chair and moves it to her, slowly sitting her down. “you hurt anywhere?” he tried to act cool while snatching her phone, offering her his jug. “fuck off, i see you taking my phone. unblock yourself if you want, i don’t plan on watching your stupid lives anyway.” she choked out, wiping the thin layer of sweat on her forehead. katsuki rolls his eyes at this, unblocking himself and unfollowing all the other camboys you had. 

“we’ll see about that, pretty face.”

next part [ not yet available! ]

taglist

@princesspeach-00 @tamakisropebunny @bakugous-mamas @ll379333 @j1-914 @gazelle-des-pres @trashpandainahat @dickinson-67 @victoriaestein @graybabyxx @apex-legends-dreams @bokuwhorez @karicho @marinwestward @fondontinta @ambi0311 @aghase-nct91312 @toxicempath @katsukichu 

[wilhelmjfink]

Daryl Dixon Drabble: #2

THANK YOU @eiresworld FOR REQUESTING THIS FOR ME ILY also I accidentally deleted the submission but here it is

Also I really had trouble understanding this one??? Like I had to re-read it nine times and I was like “is daryl the one who needs the bandage?” Idk if I’m just dumb but then this whole little story went 11 different directions as I attempted to understand it and I’m not even going to give myself the time to re-read this so if it doesn’t make sense and you hate it, that sucks, I probably will too, suck it, I had to change it up a little bit to fit his southern drawl y’all feel me

There is a reoccurring theme with my daryl scribbles: angry Daryl, concerned reader, self-doubt and lots of stray-dog type behavior

~~~~

You doubled over, resting your hands on your knees in an effort to offer your tired muscles some relief, dropping your head when you were finally sure you were safe for the moment. The oxygen around you felt thin as you gasped to catch your breath, swallowing it down like you’d been starved of it, struggling to ease your pounding heart that you were sure would beat right out of your chest. You felt strained, like you always did after a heated battle, or running a fucking mile in gym class years ago.

Beneath the incessant pounding you were acutely aware of the silence that surrounded you, drastic in contrast to the orchestra of gunfire and shouting and the groaning of walkers as they swarmed your cellblock like moths to a lantern. Observing the carnage you looked around you, counting the dead bodies all the while making sure none of them were too familiar, sighing with relief when they all proved to be corpses of those who had just recently made their way into the prison to sheek comfort away from the unsteady leader of their old settlement.

You’d voiced your concerns about letting strangers into your new home; you’d worked hard along side your friends a family to secure the prison and make it as safe as it could be in the new world. The last thing you wanted to see was a bunch of potential enemies just being welcomed in with opened arms while some or all of them could be the reason for its downfall. The others might not see it that way, but you and Daryl sure did, and regardless of whether or not this whole middle of the night ordeal was intentional or not, the fact that it was contained solely to their cell block told you everything you needed to know and confirmed all your apprehensions.

Someone had gotten sick and died — a whole new fear that hardly mattered to you before all of this — and upon their reaninimation gotten free from their cell and feasted upon some other settlers that slept in their bunks and before you knew it, hysteria had broken out, and at least ten people lay dead on the floor of the cell block, blood on their mouths and leaking from the new wounds in their head.

Your fists shook furiously. Straightening up, you beelined for the courtyard in search of Rick, intent to release your anger and ‘I-told-you-so’s on him when you spotted Daryl across the lot, standing alone in the glow of the early morning sun, appropriately haloing him like the gruff and antisocial angel you knew he was. You forgot all about your undue anger at Rick.

As you neared, you noticed him shift, pulling a bloodied rag away from the side of his head. Immediately you picked up the pace, calling for him and throwing your hands on his curiously before you even came to a complete stop.

“What happened?” You demanded, pulling his hands gently away from where they hovered by his right temple. The cloth was stained a dark red and you found the source was a gash right beside his eye, skin torn open and red and angry as he shook your grip off and replaced the rag on the cut.

“‘Nothin,” he muttered, shouldering your hands off as they fell from away from his head defeated. You sighed, both with relief at the relatively minor wound, and in realization that following this whole ordeal, Daryl would inevitably shut himself out again. You knew he would be blaming himself, thinking of all of the ways he could have avoided this or saved the lives lost, even though he didn’t want them in the first place.

“Daryl.” He stiffened when he heard you say his name, softly yet firmly. “Look at me.”

“I’m fine,” he told you, rolling his shoulders uncomfortably. “Ya shouldn’t be out here, we need t’ burn those bodies, ‘n they —”

You interrupted him with a shake of your head. “They’re gonna do it out back. Just let me see your head.” Still, he remained faced away from you. “Please?”

He threw a fleeting glance over his shoulder at you and barely turned his body enough for you to see the wound fully, opening himself up for the affection made him feel small and vulnerable in only a way that he could feel. You moved slowly, gently, afraid you might spook him like a wild animal, mindful of what words could come out of your mouth — if you prodded him, even just the smallest bit, he would slam the door in your face and shut you back out. You’d spent months working on him, getting him to trust you, and you would be damned if you threw it all away for a small cut.

But upon closer inspection, you noticed the depth of the cut, the way the skin glowed red around it and heat radiated against your knuckles as you pressed the back of your palm to his forehead, not missing the way he winced at the movement. “This is gonna need cleaned and stitches,” you said softly, maybe more to yourself than to him. “What happened?”

The realization that he could be acting so distant and cold about the wound because of the possibility of it being a scratch or even from a bite turned your blood to ice and you felt your stomach drop, but he quickly dissolved that fear. “Hit it on a bunk, tryin’ to...”

He trailed off and, not wanting him to relive the last hour or so, you spoke again with the hopes of lacing a little humor into your words: “I hope your Tetanus shots are up to date. Those things are so rusty, but I haven’t tried baking soda and vinegar yet. That’s a last resort.”

The response he gave you was hardly a hum and you frowned. “Hey.” You waited until he looked at you. “Let me clean this. I don’t want it to get infected.”

You normally wouldn’t think twice of the sentence you just spoke but, upon hearing the last syllabus, Daryl shoved you off again but this time was harsh as he took several strides away from you with a wave of dismissival. “It ain’t gonna... jus’ leave it. It’ll be fine.”

“No, it won’t,” you stepped after him, several more to match his large stride, and grabbed onto his wrist before he could put any more distance in between the two of you. “It needs stitches, or it’s not gonna stop bleeding. You know this shit, Daryl. What’s the problem?”

“Ain’t no fuckin’ problem, alright?” The venom in his tone had you retracting, eyebrows raising in surprise. “We got more pressin’ shit to take care of than a stupid little cut.”

But you stomped after him again. “Don’t you dare fucking touch any of those bodies with an open wound like that,” you snarled. This time, your own tone halted him in his tracks. “I will not let you get sick with whatever it was that killed that kid, Daryl.”

He spun on you and strode forward, right in your face, and you hardly flinched, staring him down strong. “Sorry to tell ya this, but a lil’ rubbin’ alcohol ‘n a bandaid ain’t gonna make me live forever.”

You narrowed your eyes, suddenly very aware of what the underlying issue was.

“Every one of us is gonna die, ‘n when we do, we’re gonna turn into one of those fuckin’ things. So it don’t matter anyway.”

Though now, his tone was more somber, far less angry than it had just been, and you sighed. He was watching you intently, but when you met his eyes, he averted his gaze entirely.

“I wasn’t going to use rubbing alcohol,” you muttered, crossing your arms over your chest and looking to your boots on the ground and toeing a rock awkwardly. “Or a bandaid.”

And to your surprise, Daryl chuckled.

It was both a relief and a swirl of anxiety you felt, but you were content in that you were able to talk to him without him feeling cornered and defensive. You peered up at him, eyebrow cocked curiously, watching the blush creep up his neck and cheeks and reddening the tips of his ears, and you found yourself grinning at the sight.

“I’ll make ya a deal.” Daryl turned himself to face you completely and you fought hard to ignore the proximity between you two, so close you swore he could hear your heart as it began to speed back up like you’d just finished running a mile all over again. “I’ll get ya some bandages — nothin’ else — ‘n you stop makin’ such a fuss over it. Alright?”

You hardly expected him to meet you halfway, letalone cave completely like that, and give in to your demands that wanted nothing other than to make sure he was safe and healthy and around to spend another day with you. You nodded cheekily.

“Deal.”

[thetourguidebarbie]

You know that angsty KC thing you wrote some time ago? The one you said there was a possibility for more? The one that ended with Caroline’s neck snapped by witches? And klaus was like a galaxy away or whatever? It was great and I am still asking myself what will happen next and I remembered that you said that there could be a ‘next’. So pls if you can, and have some time could you maybe write a part 2? And an happy ending Cause God knows I can’t take more angst...

Sequel to this drabble. NSFW. Tagging @itsnotacrimetoloveyou @goldcaught @sunshineandfangs @storm-pirate and @honestgrins who I believe all asked for the sequel. Mention of what Damon did to Caroline but nothing graphic. Hope you enjoy!!

-------------------

 Caroline stirred slowly, groaning as she tested whether she could move all her limbs and extremities. She didn’t feel any restraints or the lingering ache of vervain. Her sweater felt heavy, the temperature hot and humid despite the lack of sounds that indicated being outdoors. She opened her eyes slowly, noting the cell around her. Grey stone walls, no windows, a single ceiling light, heavy metal door, no furniture, and complete silence.

Definitely not the best prison she’d been in, but it hopefully wouldn’t be the worst either.

She’d been kidnapped more than a few times over the decades since she’d left Mystic Falls, and she’d learned there were two kinds of Klaus Enemies. Some of them wanted to bargain with Klaus or make some sort of agreement, which meant that they wouldn’t kill her, at least until they got what they wanted, and they all died before that happened. The more dangerous ones were the revenge-seekers. They were generally content to torture her on video or make her talk to Klaus on the phone to prove that she was still alive, playing a sick sort of cat and mouse game until he managed to catch up with them. They usually had a plan to kill her in the end, and the closer Klaus got to finding her, the less certain it was that she’d come out alive unless he pulled off a flawless rescue.

His plans had gone awry only once and he’d managed to resurrect her in a relatively timely manner, but both of them preferred to avoid that particular outcome.

She’d bet any number of valuable things that her kidnappers were soldiers in the human army that had tried to lure Klaus into a fake negotiation. Hopefully they were just trying to leverage her to get a better deal from him, a rookie mistake but she could respect the nerve, rather than outright torturing her.

She looked up at the door when it opened slowly, the man in the doorway lingering just shy of coming into the room. Likely a magic barrier then. They both remained silent, just staring at each other. The seconds stretched to what felt like minutes, though there wasn’t really any way to tell, and though she was getting impatient, she knew better than to break the silence. That showed weakness.

“Caroline Forbes?” he asked finally, his voice lower than she’d expected.

“Yep.”

“Where’s the doppelganger?”

Caroline’s eyebrows flew up to her hairline. That was a question she hadn’t heard for awhile. She hadn’t seen Elena in centuries, even before she’d gone to rescue Klaus. “I have no idea,” she said truthfully.

“Weren’t you friends?”

“We lost touch,” Caroline said blandly, not wanting to bore her captor with the whole ‘supposed best friend dated my rapist’ story. “Is that all? Because if it was you can totally let me go now and we’ll call it even.”

“It’s all right. I’m patient. I’ll wait until you’re ready to reconsider.”

She watched in complete disbelief as he slammed the door in her face.

“You have got to be kidding me. I honestly don’t know!” she shouted at the shut door, groaning when it didn’t open and backing up to lean against the stone wall. “Guess history does always repeat itself,” she muttered, closing her eyes and trying to say positive.

She had no doubt Klaus would comb through all three solar systems to find her if he had to, would hire any and every witch he could find to track her down. The question was whether they’d bothered to send him a ransom note if it wasn’t about him. If he had no idea where they’d taken her and they hadn’t left any clues, that could definitely be a problem.

Whatever. She’d do her best to escape before anything bad happened. If they were after Elena and hadn’t bothered to do any research on her other than know about their childhood friendship, it was likely they’d vastly underestimated her. Hopefully she could use that to her advantage.

Maybe she’d let Klaus lick the blood of her captors from her body if he arrived in time.

------------------

Klaus frowned as Caroline’s phone went to voicemail for the third time after ringing out. She’d seemed less than pleased on the phone, but it wasn’t like her to ignore his calls. He hung up, barking for his hybrid to drive faster and flipping the phone around in his hand, staring out at the rain and trying not to panic.

Leaving Caroline for longer than a day was less than ideal. She did go on the occasional multi-week getaway with friends, but he always made her promise to stay with at least one other person and text him once a day just to let him know she was alive. They’d learned to compromise over the years, especially once Caroline made absolutely clear that if he wanted her to stay he had to stop being ‘red flag central’ about monitoring her whereabouts, but it was difficult for him to shake that something wasn’t quite right in this particular case.

His suspicion turned to full-blown worry once his hybrid guards’ phones each went to voicemail as well.

“Let me out and meet me there,” Klaus ordered, out of the door as soon as the hybrid pulled over and speeding to the house as fast as he could. He swore when he found the door unlocked, punched a hole in the wall when he couldn’t detect Caroline’s scent on the property beyond the faint lingering trace in their bedroom, and felt his rage grow when he saw his hybrid with his throat slit on the ground, his heart on the floor beside it. He inhaled and frowned when he found the blood scentless, his alarm bells ringing even more fervently when he realized it was likely spelled to keep Caroline from being tipped off.

Witches.

He pulled out his phone, easily finding the number and holding it out to display the hologram of Bonnie’s face when she answered.

“Klaus,” she greeted, her tone cool. Though he and the Bennett witch had grown to be on better terms than they had previously, he was under no delusion that it wasn’t solely due to Caroline. Witches tended to hold grudges, and Bonnie was no exception.

“Caroline’s missing.”

He appreciated the clear effort it took for Bonnie to restrain herself from asking him whether Caroline had finally come to her senses and left, instead running a hand through her hair and giving him a distrustful glance. “I’ll be there as soon as I can. Text me the details of how you managed to let her get kidnapped so that I don’t have to hate you to your face.”

She hung up, leaving Klaus to wish, not for the first time, that Caroline wasn’t fond enough of the Bennett witch to object to just a spot of torture.

------------------

“Out of curiosity, why do you need Elena?” Caroline rasped, her throat burning from lack of blood.

The minion tying her to the coffin paused, clearly considering whether to answer her question. She hadn’t been able to detect a heartbeat and he didn’t smell like dinner, so she suspected he was a species of humanoid alien that didn’t have consumable blood, though the light was too low to see which one.

“Just a spell,” he said casually, his accent thick. He sounded like he might be from somewhere in Solar 4, which was a bad sign. She and Klaus were most definitely not welcome in that sector. Hopefully he wasn’t an avid political junkie and wouldn’t know who she was. He tugged the chain to test the strength of it and she hissed at the pain from the scratch of it against her skin.

“Why?”

“The spell is a bodyswap. He found a few friendly vampires willing to make a bargain. In exchange for the doppelganger being returned to their care, they would give us her blood. As I’m sure you’re aware, traveller blood is needed to cast the spell.”

“What vampire made the deal?” she asked slowly, already pretty sure of the answer, and when the captor confirmed her suspicion she couldn’t help rolling her eyes.

Damon Salvatore would be a perpetual thorn in her side. She’d stopped Klaus from killing Stefan out of a misplaced sense of nostalgia, but if he was going to keep resurrecting his brother indefinitely then they both needed to go, toxic but fondly remembered high school friendships be damned.

At least this meant Elena had hopefully finally come to her senses and ditched both of them. Good for her.

“Well, unfortunately for you and Damon, Elena and I lost touch like, a century ago, so I can’t help you find her. No blood, no spell. You might as well just let me go.”

“I’m afraid that won’t be possible,” a familiar voice said from across the room. Her body felt heavy, her limbs too leadened to move even without the chains securing them to the coffin, but she managed to turn her head enough to catch sight of the total asshole standing in the doorway.

“You,” she hissed, attempting to struggle against her bonds as the human approached, the sound of his heartbeat giving her a surge of energy, every instinct she had screaming at her to pounce. He’d been a general in the last uprising, though not a very good one, and his army had been dealt with quickly and efficiently. She’d disagreed at the time with Klaus’s methods, knowing that if they used the guy’s girlfriend as an example it would just escalate everything and make it worse, but Klaus had worn her down. He’d been doing it for centuries, he reminded her. He knew how to take care of a few enemies.

“It’s just one girl,” Klaus had said at the time as they rode the ship back to their home base, his arms tight around her as he nuzzled her neck, nipping her ear with a fang. “He’ll get over it.”

She felt so stupid. She’d known that the general wouldn’t let go of his grudges as easily as Klaus expected, and she should have insisted that they find another way. He was clearly not over it, and now she was clearly going to pay the price.

“When I escape, and I will, I will drain all of you dry and I’ll make it hurt,” Caroline spat.

The general laughed. “You won’t have the chance. We’re going to leave you here to dessicate nice and slow while we track down the doppelganger, or find a witch who can use expression instead as a last resort. Whatever witch we use will swap us, and you’ll get thrown in that pretty dungeon over there to waste away in a human body while I track down Klaus, who will be so pleased with your return that he won’t even notice the white oak stake until it’s through his heart.”

She felt every bit of her insides turn to ice, her breath catching in her throat. “The white oak stakes are gone. The trees were destroyed with Earth.”

“I got the last one. Also part of the bargain with the Salvatores.”

Ugh. She should have known.

“Once I’ve taken care of him I’ll have a ready-made army who’s already loyal to you.“

“He won’t believe you,” she said, her thirst making it harder to speak. “He knows me.” Sure, she’d been a little grumpy lately because of the distance, but Klaus knew her idiosyncrasies better than anyone.

“You’d be surprised at how far people are willing to go to suspend their disbelief if it gets them what they want, especially if they’re distracted by other activities.”

Caroline felt her heart race, the reality that not only could this work, but she and Klaus could be in very deep trouble, crashing into her like a punch to the gut. Her eyes burned with tears. They’d killed the bodyguards Klaus had left with her and she had no idea how long it would take for him to get back. He had no way of knowing what happened.

She was alone.

------------------

“I can’t believe you lost her,” Bonnie said grumpily, her fingers tapping on the table as she looked out the window of the ship, and he could tell she was deliberately avoiding his gaze. There was no scenery to take in, after all. The endless inky blackness around them perfectly reflected Klaus’s foul mood.

“I didn’t lose her,” he ground out.

“I mean, she wasn’t exactly where you left her,” Bonnie pointed out, shooting him a glare before staring intently at the map in her lap she was using to channel the tracking spell. He could see that the pages had begun to glow a bit brighter with magic, indicating that they were getting closer.

He bit back a retort to Bonnie’s rather rude implication that this was somehow his fault, knowing that Caroline wouldn’t appreciate it if the first thing she learned post-torture was that he and Bonnie had gotten into a spat. “How long?”

“Twenty minutes. I’ll go give the pilot the coordinates.”

He ran a hand through his hair as Bonnie got out of her seat to go talk to the hybrid manning the ship, every inch of him on edge. He’d been alive for over 1,500 years, long enough that months felt like mere moments in the grand scheme of things. Seasons passed in the blink of an eye, the concept of time a measurement that now seemed insignificant at best. He had eternity to do whatever he pleased, and the pastime of watching the mortals around him struggle to live their lives to the fullest while they still could had lost any appeal long ago.

However, whenever Caroline was in danger, time seemed to return to dragging on the way it had when he was young. Every moment was precious. The knowledge that the difference between Caroline being alive and being ripped away from him could be a single second was a terrifying reminder that though the mortals struggled to survive, the luxury of endless opportunity out of reach for them, at least if they made a fatal mistake it all ended soon enough.

If he lost Caroline because of his certainty that he knew best how to protect her, because of his arrogance and unwillingness to compromise, he would have an unending eternity to never forgive himself.

“Take off your broody face,” Bonnie said, her voice cutting through his dark mood.

“I’m not brooding.”

“Aren’t you though?” Bonnie asked dryly, sitting down next to him. Her expression softened when she saw his face, and Klaus turned away, unwilling to let her see his weakness. His fear. “She’ll be fine,” Bonnie said reassuringly, her voice holding a confidence Klaus didn’t at all share.

“We don’t know that.”

“If she was dead the map wouldn’t be able to track her down,” Bonnie said patiently. “And even if she was, we’ve pulled her back from the other side before. It was a huge pain in the ass and you totally made me want to kill you once or twice, but we managed.”

“Right,” Klaus said noncommittally, flicking a piece of dried blood out from under his nail.

“Do you have to do that in front of me?” Bonnie complained. “It’s so gross.”

“The longer you let blood dry there the harder it is to remove.”

“Then wash your hands,” Bonnie said exasperatedly, huffing and turning back to her map. “Men. Ugh.”

------------------

Everything hurt.

The wood of the open coffin was hard against her back, her heightened nerves making the scratches in the wood feel like sandpaper against her oversensitive skin. Her lungs hurt when she tried to breathe, and she could feel her muscles growing weaker by the second even as she tried to struggle uselessly against the cold hard metal that bound her. She could hear voices in the hallway bartering over witchy services and the combination of that and hunger was making her head pound.

It wasn’t long before they seemed to reach an agreement, and she eyed the witch who came in with disdain, struggling to keep her eyes open as she felt the last dregs of energy leave her.

She gathered every piece of false bravado she could, taking a shaky breath. “It won’t work. Klaus will find out. Your deaths will be slow and painful. I promise.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, sweetheart.”

Caroline had barely gasped out, “Klaus?” before she felt the rush of him go by her and the witch was crumpled on the stone floor with her neck snapped.

“What did they do to you? Were there wolves?” he asked sharply, his eyes roving her body to check for a bite even as he bent to free her. Caroline took a shaky breath, flinching in pain as the chains scraped against her skin when Klaus ripped them.

“No. Just hungry,” Caroline wheezed, coughing around the words, her throat too dry to explain more.

He pulled her up to cradle her against his chest, sitting on the coffin she’d been chained to and steadying her in his lap before pressing his wrist to her lips. “Drink, sweetheart.”

Her fangs were through his skin before he’d even finished. She was unable to suppress a moan as the blood hit her tongue, her pulse pounding in her ears as the rush of magic surged through her veins, the gashes on her arms knitting closed, her skin regaining some of its color. His eyes never left her face as he watched her feed, his fingers carding through her hair.

“You could have at least whooshed me with you,” Bonnie complained from the doorway, her breathing harsh as if she’d been running. “Oh my god.”

“She’ll be alright,” Klaus assured her quickly. “Everyone else in the building, however...”

“Revenge, we know,” Bonnie said impatiently, bending down to inspect Caroline herself. “No magic stuff?”

“They didn’t get to it,” Caroline said, curling into Klaus as much as possible, inhaling his scent and internally repeating to herself that he was fine. They were fine. Nothing bad had happened.

But if he hadn’t come in time...

“Let’s go home,” Klaus said softly, clearly sensing that she was too upset to explain. “You can tell us what happened on the ship, all right?”

“Yeah. Okay.”

He held her for a few moments even after she’d recovered her strength, his nose buried in her hair, and she curled against him, listening for the reassuring thump of his undead heartbeat. She could hear Bonnie moving in the background, objects rustling as though she was trying to figure out what the plan had been.

“I love you, sweetheart,” Klaus whispered, his voice so low that Caroline doubted Bonnie had heard. “I shouldn’t have left you alone.”

“Technically I did have bodyguards,” Caroline pointed out with a strained smile, shifting against him to press a soft kiss to his cheek. “And I love you too.”

“They’re lucky they were killed by the enemy. Their deaths by my hand for losing you would have been much more painful.”

“If it’s really bothering you we can resurrect them and you can kill them again,” Caroline teased, rolling her eyes when Klaus looked more thoughtful than amused. “I was just joking.”

“Were they going to do a body swap spell?” Bonnie interrupted, her eyes wide.

“Yeah,” Caroline said tiredly, tangling her fingers with Klaus’s when he stiffened. “They were going to let me die of starvation in a human body while they used mine to kill Klaus and then take over the army we built.”

She tried her best to keep her tone flat, to not let herself listen to what had come out of her own mouth and risk the fear of what could have been making her break down, but she felt Klaus stiffen against her. “Surely you haven’t forgotten that I can’t be killed?”

“They had the last white oak stake,” Caroline said, watching Klaus’s face darken.

“Did they, now?”

“He showed me.”

“It’s probably a fake,” Klaus said, his overconfidence kind of making her want to scream.

“I mean it looked pretty real when he showed me,” Caroline said with forced patience, shifting in Klaus’s arms. “And even if it was a regular stake, you’d still trust not-me enough that he could have stabbed you with it, and it would still kill you for long enough for them to...lock you up, or something.”

“You don’t have to worry about me, love,” he promised.

She swallowed her skepticism, not wanting to have a deep conversation about their recent lack of contact in front of her already anti-Klaus best friend and some fresh corpses. “Can we go?”

“I want to take a look around in case they have anything useful,” Bonnie said. “I’ll keep an eye out for the stake too. Can I meet you back on the ship in an hour or so?”

“Of course. I’ll send a hybrid to escort you,” Klaus said, standing up with Caroline still in his arms.

“I can walk, you kn--” Caroline began, her protests interrupted by Klaus speeding them back to the ship in a blink of an eye, carrying her into their usual suite and setting her down on the bed.

“How do you feel? Do you need anything?”

“Achy,” she admitted, shifting slightly against the mattress. “But just some more blood, maybe?”

“I’ll get you a glass,” he said, reaching to squeeze her hand before leaving the room, returning moments later with a glass, which he handed her. Her mouth watered at the scent, but she forced herself to sip slowly, needing something to do with her hands.

“I’ll kill them all,” he promised. “They’ll never hurt you again.”

“I know,” she said, trying not to sound too irritated despite being somehow annoyed that that was the first thing he wanted to say. “I’m fine, though.”

“And I’m glad of that,” he said slowly, clearly sensing that something was off beyond her physical injuries and the mental toll it took to be tortured. “What’s troubling you, sweetheart?”

She bit her lip, sitting up and leaning against the headboard, setting her mug down on the bedside table before patting the spot next to her. He eyed her warily before kicking off his boots and sitting beside her, their thighs pressed together, his hand resting on her knee. “Caroline?”

“What if you hadn’t gotten there in time?” Caroline asked softly, her voice hitching. Klaus looked vaguely alarmed by the question, his eyebrows furrowed.

“I did, sweetheart. You’re safe now.”

“But what if you hadn’t?”

“Then I’d have figured it out, and I’d have come for you.”

He sounded so confident, so sure, but somehow that only made her more upset, and she felt her eyes heat as tears built. “Are you sure?”

“Of course,” he said, putting his arm around her shoulders and pulling her closer. “I like to think after the last few hundred years I know you rather well.”

She let out a slightly watery laugh, sniffling when the tears started falling. It was probably the thousandth time she’d cried in front of Klaus, and he still made the same alarmed expression as though he was frantically trying to figure out how to make her stop. “Caroline, I...what...”

“Are you sure?” she asked again, sniffling. “Because we haven’t seen each other for longer than a few hours in like, weeks. Months, maybe?”

“But we’ve been together for over two hundred years,” he pointed out, looking more confused by the moment.

“Yeah, so you trust me, right?” Caroline pressed, wiping her eyes. “Like, if you’d come home and fake me had just jumped you, you would have gone along with it, and then he would have stabbed you with the white oak stake, and--”

“I’d know,” he said, the finality in his tone annoying her even more. “I promise. I’d be safe and I’d find you. You don’t need to worry about me.”

“But--”

“What’s actually bothering you, love?” he pressed, studying her face.

She huffed, wiping at her cheeks and trying to blink the tears away. “I just...I don’t know if you would.”

“What?” he asked, sounding more offended than she’d ever heard him. It would have made her laugh if she wasn’t so upset. “Of course I--That’s...Caroline. You can’t possibly think that I don’t care enough to notice when you’re not yourself?”

“No, like, I know you care about me,” Caroline said reassuringly, grabbing his hand. “I just feel like we don’t really get to spend time together anymore.”

“We’ll have eternity together, sweetheart. Especially once the war is over.”

“Yeah, a war that’s been going on for decades. Full offense, but I’d like to spend my eternity with you, not waiting for you,” Caroline burst out. “Do you know how it makes me feel for you to just leave me behind to twiddle my thumbs and do nothing? When you leave me out of all of your semi-evil plots and treat me like I have no value other than being your...your girlfriend? Or whatever? I don’t want to be an afterthought or taken for granted, and I feel like you’re dangerously close to that.”

She felt a bit guilty when she watched his expression close off, his lips pressing together into a thin line as he processed, clearly weighing his words, and he swallowed before he spoke, the only sign that he wasn’t as collected as he looked. “How long have you felt that way?”

She shrugged, looking down at her hands. “I don’t know. A while.”

“I wish you’d said something,” he said, wincing at the look on her face. “Not that I shouldn’t have been paying more attention, of course.”

“I mean, you haven’t really been around to notice,” she bit out, regretting her words when he recoiled slightly. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have--”

“No, you’re right,” he interrupted firmly. “I haven’t, and I apologize.”

She let out a sharp breath. “No, that wasn’t nice of me. I’m sorry. I know you’ve been busy with everything.”

He was quiet for a moment, looking thoughtful, and she took the opportunity to lean against him, tucking herself against his side. “What can I do to acquit myself?” he asked, and she laughed softly.

“No more crazy commute meetings or solo murder sprees,” she said, a slow grin spreading across her face at the way his expression darkened, likely because he thought she was attempting to get him to give up the war entirely. She turned slightly to sling a leg over his lap, cupping his cheeks, the stubble familiar and rough beneath her palms. “Not unless I get to rip out a few hearts with you. Understood?”

He smiled slightly, his hands landing on her hips. “Understood.”

She bent to kiss him softly, but he pulled back what felt like much too soon, making her frown. “What?”

“I never want you to think even for a moment that you are anything less than my first priority or for you to feel that I’m taking you for granted. Nor do I wish to give you the impression that I don’t value your counsel, or that I would prefer you to be left waiting rather than always at my side. Nothing has come more easily to me than loving you, Caroline. I need to trust that you’ll tell me if you’re feeling neglected so that I may remind you of that.”

She felt her breath catch in her throat at the clear affection in his eyes, the way his voice curled around her name in a way that made warmth bloom in her chest even after all their years together. She’d missed the way her heart would skip a beat when he looked at her, everything seeming to fade away other than the intoxicating rush of how he made her feel.

“I can do that,” she promised, slightly breathlessly, and he gave her the dimpled grin that was uniquely hers, the one that only emerged when they were alone and wrapped up in their own little world.

“Good,” he said, pecking her on the lips and shifting underneath her to get comfortable, settling against the headboard, his palm sliding underneath her top to rest on the base of her spine. “I should also note, again, that I object to the term ‘girlfriend’. It’s juvenile.”

Caroline huffed. They’d had that argument what felt like over a hundred times, but neither could come up with a better title. ‘Partner’ reminded Caroline of cowboys (which had made Klaus snort brandy up his nose when she’d complained about it, and she’d only stopped the ensuing explanation of historically accurate cowboys by shoving her tongue down his throat). ‘Lover’ was too sappy, even if Taylor Swift had sort of brought it back for a hot second. They weren’t married. ‘Significant other’ was too long and formal. They’d given up about a decade into their relationship. Caroline had settled for ‘girlfriend/boyfriend’ and Klaus simply expected everyone to know that she was his and be respectful of that, lest their heads be lopped off.

Multiple heads had been lopped off.

It had been a thing.

She hummed noncommittally, deciding not to get drawn into a discussion about it, instead wriggling out of his grip and stripping off her shirt. “I need a shower. I’m covered in blood and dirt.”

“Of course, love. Do you want company?”

She bit her lip, considering. She still felt gross, the remains of the dirt on the coffin and the blood of her captors still sticking to her skin. Almost more unsettling was the knowledge of how close she’d come to having someone else inhabit her body, what they’d planned to do with it. Even though they hadn’t succeeded, the idea of it still made her feel ill, taking up what she felt was too much space in her mind but refusing to budge. She swallowed.

“I’ll be here when you’re done, sweetheart. Just call if you need me,” Klaus said, clearly reading her answer on her face. Klaus was far from stupid, had likely put together where her mind had gone. They’d body-swapped before as a sex thing, but the idea of someone she didn’t know wearing her as a costume without her permission, of being inside of her, was such a violation. It was something she’d had multiple conversations about with Klaus when he’d proposed a body swap for subterfuge as a war strategy. She’s put her foot down. Hard. The idea of it still made her queasy, and he knew it.

She gave him a weak smile, slipping into the bathroom and turning on the spray. The water turned a deep rusty color as it dripped down from her body, the heat flushing her skin. It felt good to have everything washed away, the smears of blood over what had been gashes on her arms and legs rinsing off to show the healed flesh underneath. She worked the bubbles down her body almost mechanically, the indulgently expensive hair products she favored slick under her fingers as she worked them into her blonde curls to make them soft and smooth again.

She could hear Klaus shifting in bed, his fingers tapping against what was probably his tablet, waiting for her to emerge.

She knew that just the talk they had wouldn’t be enough in the long term. Letting herself grow so resentful without bringing it up had been a mistake, one she knew better than to make after being in a relationship with him for this long. It brought up all her old insecurities about clinginess and being too needy, ones she thought she’d outgrown centuries ago. Klaus had never made her feel like she was being too much, but that didn’t squash her deepest fears that one day he might.

But not today, she told herself firmly as she shut off the water, grabbing a fluffy towel and humming to herself as she dried her hair, trying to recenter herself.

“Feeling better, love?” he asked when she came out, his tone so determinedly casual that he had to have been making an effort not to sound too concerned.

“Yeah,” she said, pulling on some pajama bottoms and an old henley from the closet. “Move over.”

He obliged, lifting his arm so that she could lean against him, pushing a mug of blood into her hands. “Do you want to talk?” Klaus asked after a few seconds of her sipping from the mug in silence.

“I’m mostly all talked out,” she said, closing her eyes, cracking one open for a half-hearted glare when he chuckled. “You know what I meant.”

“I do,” he agreed, his thumb stroking the dimple in her elbow.

They were interrupted by a sharp knock on the door, Bonnie’s voice floating through. “Caroline?”

“Coming!” Caroline yelled for the benefit of Bonnie’s lack of supernatural hearing, swinging her legs out of bed and whooshing to let her in.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Bonnie said, pulling her into a tight hug. “I was so worried.”

“I’m fine.”

“Good,” Bonnie said, turning to look at Klaus, who was trying to leave them discreetly to give them a few moments of privacy (or because he anticipated squealing once they started catching up). “Don’t you want to know what I found out?”

“I suppose.”

“The white oak stake is definitely fake,” Bonnie said, squeezing Caroline hand as she slumped slightly, a good half of her stress evaporating all at once. “Damon probably just figured the guy would do his stalking for him and he and Elena would be far away by the time he found out the stake didn’t kill you.”

“Not too far for me to kill, however,” Klaus muttered. “And the ripper, I suppose. They’ve both become equally as bothersome. Pity. He used to be such—.”

“Fun. Yeah, we know, you used to have twinsies murder sprees in the twenties,” Bonnie interrupted impatiently. “We have heard every story more times than how many years we’ve been alive.”

Caroline snorted at the revolted look on Klaus’s face at the word “twinsies” and kind of wished she had a camera to capture it.

“Anything else, Bon?”

“Just some spellbooks and reagents. I’ll take them home to study.”

“Okay.”

“You should get some sleep, Care. I’m exhausted and I didn’t even get tortured.”

“I agree,” Klaus said, reaching to slip his arm around her waist. “I’ll wake you when we arrive.”

------------------

“Good morning,” Caroline muttered, tipping her head to the side to allow Klaus to nip her ear. “That feels nice.”

He laughed quietly, letting his blunt teeth drag along her earlobe and sucking on it lightly before moving to press a soft kiss to her lips. “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” she said, her word dragging into a yawn. “Definitely a nicer wake-up call than yesterday.”

Though Klaus had stuck to his promise to wake her when they were dropping Bonnie off, she barely remembered what had happened, the memory blurry and consisting only of an agreement to call her best friend that afternoon when she’d recovered. She was pretty sure Klaus had carried her to bed when they had arrived to their house, since she didn’t remember their arrival.

“I should hope so.”

“What time is it?”

“Just after second sunrise,” he said, grinning at Caroline’s returning groan. “But we have a significant time difference, so you’ve been asleep quite awhile.”

“Where are we?”

“Sector eight. Our planet.”

She hummed, slinging a leg over his waist to pull herself on top of him and pressing her cheek to his bare chest. Their private planet meant top notch security and zero responsibilities. Perfect for more naps.

He pressed his palm lightly against the base of her spine, his other hand fiddling with the ends of her hair. “Still tired, love?”

“No. You’re just comfy.”

“Not hungry?”

“Not enough to let you move.”

“You should eat,” he said, beginning to move her off of him, presumably to get her some blood, but she shoved him back down, pressing soft kisses down the tattoo inked across his shoulder.

“Fine. Breakfast in bed?” she whispered between brushes of her lips, letting a fang scrape against the bird closest to his neck and flicking her tongue against the cut. She felt Klaus tense under her fingers, heard his swallow when she let out a satisfied hum at the taste of him.

“Are you offering?”

“Demanding,” she shot back, pushing herself up on her palms to look him in the eye. “It’s the least you can do.”

“I suppose,” he drawled, tilting his head to the side, his hand already drifting down to press against her thigh, gently nudging her legs apart. “Since you asked so nicely.”

“Jerk,” she muttered, more affectionately than insulting, and he groaned as she bent and sank her fangs into his neck, his nails curling to bite into her skin, his hips jerking up to grind shamelessly against her.

He’d never held back with her, never tried to restrain himself from reacting to her touches, never hesitated to show her exactly how much he wanted her. Even when they were just watching each other or he was teasing her with infuriatingly gentle brushes of his fingers against her skin or the light flick of his tongue just shy of where she needed it, she never felt the least bit of doubt of how much he loved her, loved being with her.

It was one of the many things she loved about him.

That, and how delicious his blood was on her tongue.

She could hear his harsh breathing, the way he whispered her name when she was on the edge of taking too much. She pulled back slowly, still dazed and high on the rush of it. He caught her lips with his, sucking lightly on her lower lip before tangling his fingers in her hair and tugging her head back to expose her neck. She shivered when he ran his tongue over her pulse and pressed a soft kiss to it, running his nose along the line of her throat to her ear, inhaling her scent. “Better?”

“Yeah.”

Her entire body was pulsing with need, her nipples sensitive, her pussy aching. “I want you. Now.”

“Again, so demanding,” he murmured, nipping her earlobe.

“Oh, well, I guess if you don’t want to,” she teased, laughing when he flipped them over, already kissing his way down her body.

“You should know better than to think that there could be anything else I’d prefer to be doing,” he said softly, looking up to fully meet her eyes.

The moment felt heavier suddenly, his point clear. “I know,” she breathed.

He gave her a dimpled smile, one that was soft and rare and reserved for their most private moments. She felt all of the air leave her lungs, and she knew he could hear how his effect on her made her pulse race, the rush of it so quick it could have been a human’s for just a moment.

“And I do recall I promised to remind you.”

“You did.”

He pressed a soft kiss to her inner thigh, his blunt teeth dragging along the skin for just a moment after, making her shiver, her eyes closing. “Look at me, Caroline.”

She fought to keep her eyes open, but as soon as she met his, she couldn't look away. He held her gaze as he began to lazily drag his fingertip back and forth across the back of her knee, smirking when she shivered. "What do you want me to do, love?"

Klaus had always had the ability to coax out confessions of things she craved. When she'd finally allowed herself to give into him, she'd been surprised by his attentiveness, his determination to convince her to tell him all of her filthiest desires. She'd never exactly been shy, but he'd managed to get her used to making demands, to be unashamed to ask for things she wanted. His light touch was a deliberate tease, designed to make her admit what she wanted from him.

"Make me come."

He chuckled, pressing a soft kiss to her inner thigh, just shy of where she wanted his tongue. "I intend to. More than a few times, in fact."

"That's ambitious for someone who's been doing a lot more talking than touching."

"I'll get to it, sweetheart," he promised, sliding his hands underneath her thighs to push them apart and back, nipping at the exposed skin. "And if I recall correctly you do like it when I talk."

"You do recall correctly and you know that," she said impatiently. "But right now I want your tongue on me."

"Good," he murmured, bending to let a fang drag across her inner thigh frustratingly close to her entrance, the burn of the venom only making the sensation of his tongue sweeping along the cut even sweeter. "Watch."

She inhaled sharply at the first flick of his tongue against her clit, the soft hum of satisfaction when she rolled her hips instinctively to draw him closer. She kept her eyes locked on his as he swiped his tongue across her entrance just the way she liked it, his fingers digging into the flesh of her hips to pull her closer, groaning at the taste of her arousal on his tongue. The barest hint of shame she used to feel for melting against his touch had long been overcome, and it was almost amusing to remember how hard she fought to pretend that he wasn't exactly what she wanted, that his tongue against her clit would result in anything other than her writhing against him demanding more. 

He knew how to draw her out, to tease her for hours as she begged for release, but he knew better than to make her wait this time. Her first orgasm was quick and almost harsh, her ragged breathing muffled only by the rip of the sheets as she dug her nails into the mattress. He barely waited for her to come down from her high to build her up again, watching with dark, wanting eyes as he brought her to the edge twice more before she sank bonelessly against the mattress, watching him with glazed eyes. "Good?" he asked, his expression as smug as ever.

Her undead heart was racing in her chest, her entire body still thrumming with need. "More. Your cock this time."

"Bossy."

She raised an eyebrow, reaching to wrap her hand around his cock, grinning at his low groan when she began to stroke him lazily. "You want bossy?"

"I want you," he shot back, the thickness of his voice and the flash of gold in his eyes taking a response that could have been cheesy and turning into anything but. His cock was hard and hot in her hand, the twitch of his shoulders a certain tell that he was growing impatient. She knew he'd likely been burning with anticipation for hours now, waiting for her to wake and recover so that he could touch her for the first time in weeks. He'd missed her as much as she'd missed him, and she knew that. The way he drank her in now was a sure sign that he'd take her any way he could, and that if she didn't decide what she wanted in the next few seconds she'd be pinned beneath him with his fangs buried in her neck as he took her hard and fast.

Not a bad outcome, but one she wanted to save for later. 

He let her flip them, watched her with hungry eyes as she got up on her knees and shifted to straddle him, nosing the line of his neck as he shifted to sit against the headboard, pulling over with him, his cock hard against her belly. "I want you too," she said, the admission as easy as breathing, tipping her head to the side to allow Klaus to press light kisses against her neck.

He groaned out her name when she reached to stroke him a few times, positioning him at her entrance and sinking down, his lips catching hers in lazy kisses as they found a familiar rhythm. He pressed his forehead against hers, his fingertips branding her hips as he filled her, chuckling at the soft sigh that escaped her lips when he began to move faster, her head falling back to allow him to run his tongue along her pulse point. “I’ve missed this,” he whispered against her neck. “The feel of your skin beneath my fingers, the way your breath catches when I touch you..."

"I missed you too."

She hissed when his fingertip found his bite wound on the back of her thigh and shifted slightly to try to soothe the burn of it, the skin pulsing with a sharp pain that was starting to overtake the pleasure it gave her. He always seemed to know exactly when the venom began to grow to be too much, and he tipped his head to the side, a clear invitation. 

"Good, sweetheart," he praised as she drank, stroking her hair with a gentle touch even as his hips moved faster, rougher, just the way she liked it. The more he touched her the hungrier she became to rediscover every part of him. "Close?"

She pulled back from his neck and nodded, letting her fangs retract and humming her assent before burying her face in his shoulder, moaning when his hand tangled in her curls to tug at them gently, making her clench around him. She could feel her release building quickly now, her toes curling, fingernails digging into his back. She could hear him breathing harshly, hissing out her name when she fell apart around him, coming inside of her moments later. She stayed comfortably pressed against him as she waited for the rush to fade, humming in contentment when he began to lazily stroke her spine, burying his nose in her hair.

"Can we just stay in bed today?" she asked, making no move to slide off of him.

"Of course, love. Still tired?"

"No, I'm good. Just lazy."

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to her cheek and helping her shift to a more comfortable position draped across his body. "Well, I'm perfectly content to stay here for as long as you like."

"Don't you have important supervillain meetings?" she teased. "To terrorize your enemies and put all of the werewolfy predator fear in their hearts?"

"None that are so important to necessitate us interrupting the well-deserved vacation I promised you."

"Good. I know you always say we have eternity for vacations, but--"

"Even eternity is too short to waste a moment that I could be spending with you," he interrupted, his tone much too formal for the total Disney content that had just come out of his mouth.

She snorted, turning on her side to look at him, reaching to stroke the stubble on his cheek. "I know you hate it when I say you're cute--"

"I do."

"But that was cute. Cheesy, but cute."

"I am neither cheesy nor cute, love. I'm--."

"Yeah, yeah. The nightmare of many. Supernatural boogeyman. Evil supervillain predator who rips out all the hearts. You can still be cute with me. Those aren't mutually exclusive."

She grinned at how offended he looked. It wasn't the first time she'd said it, not by a long shot, but it never failed to push his buttons.

Exactly her plan.

"It's okay to be a cute supervillain predator," she continued, trying to fight down a smile and mostly failing. "Everyone is a multi-faceted person with a lot of layers and nuance, and--"

His smile was all teeth, his eyes flashing gold. "Don't you think it may be unwise to insult the most powerful creature you've met, sweetheart?"

Her hair brushed against the bird tattoo inked along his shoulder as she bent to nip his ear. "Why? Do you bite?"

[scripttorture]

(1/2) Hi - Thanks a lot for your alternative scenario to my Widowmaker question. :) I'm going to be working on a story involving intelligence/black-ops agencies, and one recurring theme I'm emphasizing is that the tortures done by multiple characters are inefficient, pointless and counter-intuitive. The protagonists' cruelty backfires horribly by hardening the resolve of their victims (and the victims' loved ones); guilty members 'betray' their team by reporting the atrocities to the public...

(2/2) Any useful info gathered by agencies (American, Japanese, Russian & Turkish) is done nonviolently, so torture's done for sadism or to INTENTIONALLY demoralize. Any other ways could you suggest to portray 'enhanced interrogation' as needless and unconstructive? Don't wanna accidentally veer into apologia i.e. implying that torture fails and a time-bomb goes off because 'we didn't torture suspect hard enough'; and I fear that in pop-culture, 'moral appeals' alone won't be convincing enough.

You're right that popculture tends to dismiss moral appeals (usually by buying into apologistarguments) but I think whether they work in a piece of fiction depends on howthey’re written.

 A purely moral argumentis a lot less likely to have an emotional impact when the character it comesfrom is: privileged, unlikely to ever be in danger, has no experience with victims,has no family background connected to atrocities. Anyone who comes across asunconnected can be tarred by the narrative.

 The usual ways that isdone are either by showing the character as a desk jockey with no realpractical experience of the world, showing them as flighty with their head inthe clouds or showing them as using atrocities to score political points.

 Moral arguments comeacross more powerfully when they come from people who have seen and experiencedatrocities, whether it’s in the past or present.

 My English education isprobably gonna show a little here but I’m reminded of Sassoon’s war poetry andhow angrily some of it was directed against the British public and politics-

 ‘You smug faced crowds with kindling eyes,

Who cheer when soldier lads march by,

Sneak home and pray you’ll never know

The hell where youth and laughter go.’

 Moral arguments can beincredibly powerful things in fiction and art. I don’t think we should dismissthem.

 The problem withwriting effective moral arguments infiction is well essentially it’s about how you write.

 In order for somethingto have an emotional pay off it needs to be appropriately built up in the storyand supported by the narrative. And there’s no one simple way to do thateffectively.

 A ‘Big Speech’ can makepeople lose interest but only if it’spoorly written.

 I suppose the way Ithink about successful moral arguments is that you’re trying to write what TVtropes would call a ‘Crowning Moment of Awesome’ (I’d link to that but I’mafraid my readers may become stuck in an internet black hole from which theymay never escape.)

 Doing that effectivelytakes work. It means carefully balancing everything that happens in the storyup until that moment. It means judging howyou’re manipulating your readers’ emotions.

 Any big speech is goingto fall flat if it isn’t backed up by actions and by what happens more widelyin the story.

 The way I’ve tended todo that is by having characters take big personal risks to do what they thinkis right. Because I write a lot of pacifists and because pacifists seem to beparticularly prone to this sort of dismissal in fiction (that their beliefsaren’t practical, that it’ll all get better if they just kill the baddies,etc-) I made a deliberate choice to avoid ‘Big Speeches’ and instead show thesecharacters backing up their words to the hilt.

 Getting the emotionaltone right is key and it’s also one of the hardest parts of writing.

 There seem to a fewmain approaches with torture in particularly. There’s a very stark,minimalistic statement of what happened, similar to an Amnesty internationalreport. In a rich, descriptive narrative that can be incredibly shocking andhorrifying. It’s a sudden shift in how the story comes across and that createsan impact.

 Another strategy is to writealmost the way Alleg does. Keeping the pov very firmly with the victim andputting the reader as firmly as possible in their shoes. That means a lot moredescription but not purely of things like pain. It means appreciating thedetails people notice when they’re stressed and scared.

 Alleg picked up onthings like the cleanliness of the board he was strapped to, the general senseof the crowd around him, the fact some of them were drinking beers while theywatched. That his shirt was used as a gag. The incredibly young age of some ofhis torturers and the way they talked to him (as if it was all a sportingevent). The way Algerian prisoners responded to him, a Frenchmen, who had takentheir side and was suffering for it.

 Pulling back from realworld accounts there are a few other approaches I found particularly effective.They’re more to do with focus thandescription.

 Babylon 5 and Farscapeare two sci fis that have a lot of flaws (and I haven’t re-watched themrecently so I can’t swear that totally accurate portrayals of torture isn’toccasionally one of them-) but they’re all very good at giving the audience anemotional impact from atrocities they show.

 Babylon 5 is set on thetitular space station, a sort of diplomatic way point designed to be neutralground used to navigate political crisis’s. A central plot point is theon-going conflict between the Narn and the Centauri. At the beginning of thestory this is pretty much purely political, Centauri used to occupy Narn butNarn broke free and has since become much more powerful. Over the course of thestory this shifts drastically. The Centauri take over Narn again and begin apolicy of widespread slavery and genocide.

 We rarely see any of this. We do not generallymeet the victims.

 But the consequenceshit the narrative like a hammer.

 We see the Narnambassador go from being one of the most powerful individuals on the station toa refugee there. We see the Centauri ambassador become a pariah. We see attemptafter attempt to help the Narn people from all sorts of sides. It affects everything that happens in the story,warping it.

 Farscape is much morefocused on individuals.

 In Farscape the leadcharacter, Crichton, is tortured repeatedly (and unsuccessfully) by peopletrying to get information on wormhole technology from him. And the narrativetakes the time to show the ways it’s affected him. It does this in privatemoments, when he’s alone or interacting with the people he trusts. Graduallyover the course of several seasons he changes. To the point that going from anepisode in the first season to one in the last makes him almost seem like adifferent character.

 Like Babylon 5 it’sabout consequences. But it’s consequences on a very personal level.

 Unlike Alleg’s accountit’s not, necessarily, from Crichton’s point of view. Some of it is. Some of itisn’t. The audience watches the character deteriorate. But we don’t see himgive up and his responses to a large degree aren’t judged. Just presented.

 You’re showing torturefailing in multiple ways.

 Not resulting in usefulinformation. Negatively affecting torturers/bad guys and causing them to changesides. Making victims more strongly opposed to their enemies (and presumablyacting as a recruitment too and propaganda victory for their own side).

 I think the rest of itcomes down to how you construct the narrative and the emotional tone you put inthe story. I think I’ve covered emotional tone.

 With a story on thekind of scale you’re telling there are going to be characters who support andargue for torture. But you can use the story itself to show that they’re wrong.

 The easiest way to dothat is to show them as…well as delusional as torturers tend to be. Show themclaiming they were responsible forthings the reader knows other people(and non-torture methods) achieved. Show them coming out of a session where allthey ‘got’ was inarticulate noises and claim it was useful. Show their‘information’ being wrong and show that costing their side, in time and lives.

 You’re already doing anawful lot more in your story than most fiction bothers to. I don’t think you’reat risk of accidentally writing apologia.

 This kind of writingadvice is difficult for me because I don’t think there is a one-size-fits-allapproach to writing, narrative style or building emotional depth in a story.

 I think there are veryvery few things that writers should ‘never’ do and I’m very aware that myapproach to writing wouldn’t work for everyone. I spent years strugglingbecause I’d read all these writing ‘tips’ and ‘tricks’ telling me things I‘shouldn’t’ do that were key to someone else’s style and absolutely uselesswhen it came to mine.

 Figuring out what worksbest for the way you write is something only you can do. As is figuring outwhat would work best in the story you want to tell.

 I hope this helps. :)

Disclaimer

[hhiggs]

Alone (part 2)

The Royal Romance/ Liam x MC

Read PART 1 first...

MC made her way through the rest of the week, working as much as she could and saving all of her tips and extra money. She had been in contact with the landlord about the tiny apartment she had seen but now that she knew she was pregnant, she was having to move her timeline up a bit.  She made a doctors appointment to make sure everything was fine.  The nurse over the phone told her to start taking prenatal vitamins and gave her some other tips on what to do and not to do.  She was constantly signing up for things on the internet, coupons for diapers etc and apps on her phone to track the growth.  Although she was so excited about bringing a little person into this world, she couldn't help but have some sadness with it as she wasn't able to enjoy these moments, and the million more to come, with Liam.  She isn't even able to share her news with her friends, as she fears they would tell him.  She is basically avoiding them and it was obvious.

 "I'm sorry, Hana.  I don't mean to avoid you. I just... want to move on and talking to you always leads to talking about... him."

"Well I hope that one day we can be as close as we were before,"Hana replied with sadness in her voice. "I miss you." 

"I miss you guys too. Very much."

Drake texts her weekly asking if she needs anything or needs him to send any money; she declines, not wanting to feel indebted to him.  There may be a time in the near future when she will really need some help but right now she wants to try her best to do it on her own.  

Drake puts his phone down and looks up at Hana and Maxwell, "She is being distant. I think something's wrong."

"She told me she just wanted to try to move on but there is something in her voice... like she has more she wants to say." Hana responded.

Drake stares at his phone as if trying to get answers  that he may have missed from her texts.  Drake had been assigned from day one to look out for her and even though so much has changed, he still couldn't get rid of the protective feelings for her.  She was his friend and he didn't allow just anyone that title.  Maxwell stepped up to Drake, with a look of concern, "Do you think we should tell Liam?"

"Not yet.  I don't want his emotions to get in the way of his mission.  We need to handle this ourselves."

Hana asks wide-eyed, "How do you propose we do that?"  Maxwell smiles, "I think he means we're going to America."

The newly crowned King of Cordonia was sitting through another secret meeting with his top security advisors.  He was trying his damndest to pay attention but it was getting harder and harder to see an end to this madness.  He realizes it is for her own safety to avoid her but all he can think about is MC.  He hopes she doesn't hate him too much that their relationship is irreparable.  Often throughout the day and night he thinks of her and the image of her being escorted out of the palace... the look on her face... It is ingrained in his memory and it breaks his heart each time.  He cut off whoever was talking, he wasn't paying attention anyway, "Do we have a timeline of when all of this will be over?"

"No, sir. We are still trying to infiltrate hackers working with the enemies we've already identified.   Your majesty, if I may?"  Liam nods and the man continues, "I understand your yearning to have this mission completed...expeditiously, however, we have to ensure the safety of all involved."

"I understand," Liam responds disheartened, "please continue..."  Liam struggles to listen as his thoughts are filled by a girl he is probably losing with every second that passes.  He tells himself over and over that it is for her safety, not to mention it is his royal duty to ensure the safety of all of Cordonia; a responsibility he takes very seriously.  

"Madeline and Queen Regina will be seated next to each other at the State dinner tonight.  As per protocol, Regina will be wearing the Imperial State Crown.  Our men have wired the crown and with any luck, we will be able to get the last few pieces of the puzzle to shut all of this down tonight."

With the help of several co-workers who she considers friends, MC finishes moving the last of her things into her new apartment. Although she is living paycheck to paycheck right now, she is feverishly searching for a better job in her spare time. She hopes to find something before she starts to show too much, so that doesn't interfere with their decision to hire her.  She hopes to be able to get a job with insurance but reluctantly signed up for state assistance just in case.  Her doctors appointment went well and after discussing her concerns about drinking before she knew she was pregnant, she felt better.  There were tests that could be done to ensure everything was fine but so far, everything looks good.  She has noticed periods of exhaustion during her shifts and occasional bouts of nausea in the mornings but nothing too serious.  She had shared the news with her co-workers and several times they had mentioned her 'glow'.  

She was particularly tired one evening when she walked up to a table to take their order and a familiar voice caused her head to snap up from her notepad, "Whiskey please."

"Drake! Hana! Maxwell! What are you doing here?" She yelled, reaching for each of them as they stood to hug her tightly.  Hana laughed, "We're just checking on our friend.  How are you?"

MC blushed slightly, looking down at her hands then running one hand through her hair to straighten it, as if to prove to them that she was fine, "I'm great.  I'm so glad to see you. How long are you in town?  Hold on, let me tell them I'm taking a break and we can sit down and talk."  MC smiled until she turned her back to her friends and then a look of dread came across her face. What if they find out? What if they tell Liam?  She instinctively reach her hand to her belly, then adjusting her apron to make the tiny bump that only she had noticed, less noticeable.  As she told her boss she was taking her break, she thought of her apartment and was thankful the small amount of baby things she had purchased were hidden away in a closet, in case they ask to come over.  She pastes on a smile again before turning to her friends.  Just enjoy this time with them.  Stop worrying. They won't be here long and they'll never have to find out.  She knew, though, that it was going to be hard for her to keep this secret from her best friends.  

It was obvious to Drake that MC was preoccupied with something.  He, Hana and Maxwell shared glances occasionally when MC was particularly evasive about how she was doing.  While she finished her shift, the three Cordonians went sight-seeing and met back at her new apartment.  It was tiny as she had stated.  Drake was familiar with living outside of palaces and mansions. Hana and Maxwell, however, were amazed by how one would squeeze into such a small space.  They both looked at MC sympathetically, knowing she should be living with Liam instead of working so hard just to live in this tiny space.  The three friends longed to tell her to be patient and not to give up hope.  They were aware that Liam was working on getting her back but she wasn't able to know about it.  After talking to her in the last few months, it was concerning that she was actually moving on.  They all hoped Liam and his team could uncover the truth and bring MC back to Cordonia... if it wasn't too late.  Drake catches MC alone at one point and asks her point-blank, "Are you seeing someone else?"  

Her uninhibited laughter made him breathe a sigh of relief.  "No, Drake. A new relationship is the last thing on my mind."  He smiles and nodds, looking around the apartment, his voice lowers so that only she could hear, "if you need more... I can give it to you... I don't mind."

"I appreciate that... and I might... I might take you up on that... sometime... but I'm ok right now." She smiles at her friend.  Her voice is hesitant when she finally asks, "how is ...he?" Drake sees the pain in her eyes when asking about Liam.  He stops himself from just telling her, he loves you with all his heart! He didn't want to hurt you and he wants you back but you have to be patient! 

"He's ...fine."  

"Do you think he... nevermind." 

"MC...I'm sure he... I...I don't know what to say."

"I know." she smiles, "It's ok.  I shouldn't put you in the middle like that."  She looks so sad right now... but there is something else there too.  Something has changed.  She was different somehow but he couldn't quite put his finger on it.  After about an hour at her place, Maxwell suggests they go to a club for drinks and dancing but MC declines, expressing she was too tired to go out.  Hana and Maxwell head out and Drake decides to stay behind.  He offers to meet them back at their hotel.  Their plane leaves just before noon the next day.  After they say their goodbyes to MC, she and Drake sit down in the two chairs that were available in the small area.  Drake notices her eyes were cloudy and her eyebrows furrowed in thought.  Drake leans forward putting his hand on hers and squeezing gently.  She bites her lower lip but not before he notices it quivering.  Suddenly tears fill her eyes and she breaks down sobbing, covering her face.  He moves closer to her, holding her in his arms, allowing her to get her emotions out before asking quietly, "What's going on?"

She sits upright, removing her hands from her tear stained face and grabbing several tissues. "Nothing."  

He smiles and rolls his eyes so she continues, " I guess I just need a friend.  I don't really have any here.  Not like... N..not like you guys."  

"We may be an ocean away but we'll always be here for your MC. Anytime you need us."

MC doesn't know what it is about Drake. As standoffish as he is, she knows for sure that he is one of her best friends and he would do anything for her.  She wants to share the news of her pregnancy with her friend but doesn't want to tell him because he is Liam's friend as well.  "I don't want to put you in the middle between me and Liam because of your friendship with us both."  

"MC, you are one of my best friends, as it Liam.  If you want to talk to me about something and keep it between us, I will give you my word, I won't say anything to him."  She sighed deeply.  Tears welling up once again. She knows she is extra hormonal but she didn't realize how hard it has been keeping this secret from her closest friends.  However, she is also acutely aware that there is no way Drake would be able to carry that secret with him and keep it from Liam and it was not fair of her to ask him to.  "It's nothing. I just miss you guys and I miss Cordonia... for the most part."  

"Are you sure that's all?"

"Yes... but thank you so much for coming out here and for hanging out with me this evening.  I've had a great time."

"Obviously" he responds sarcastically, elbowing her and pointing towards the used tissue.  They say their goodbyes despite Drake's insistence that she has more to talk about.  He finally excuses himself and she cries herself to sleep.  

"Your majesty, we have a possible situation."

"What is it?"

"Your friends, Drake, Hana and Maxwell took a trip to America."

Liam stops reading from the papers on his desk, "America?  To see MC? I didn't know about any trip.  What was that about? Is something wrong with her?" His heart seems to skip a beat when he asks that last question. He rose to his feet. "Not that we could tell, sir.  Our men on the ground in New York have been following her closely. She has moved into her own place, she continue to maintain employment... "

Liam sighs, "Well that's good.  Maybe they were just paying a friendly visit? I'll talk them about it later today."  He sits back down, picking up the paperwork he had been looking over. "Is there anything else?" He asks without looking up. 

"Uhm... There is, your majesty. I.. I'm not sure how to say this... Our men on the ground stated... after additional... exploration..." He stammers, blushing and avoiding eye contact. Liam puts down his paper once again, "Well, what is it?"

"It appears that Lady MC may be ... pregnant."

After several awkward moments of silence, Liam waves for the man to leave while he collects himself.  He felt as if he had been weightless and then the weight of the world was on him.  His stomach and heart shifted, his breathing erratic.  His mind racing, not knowing what to do.  He needs MC.  He needs to be with her.  He never expected that their night outside of the coronation would result in this ,but of course it was possible. They hadn't used protection.  His heart swells thinking of their love leading to a child.  He can't wait to hold her and be with her as their child grows inside her.  His smile falters as he realizes she is still in danger and if he goes to her now,  the baby will be in danger too; maybe even moreso as his heir.  His anxiety level rises. I don't care what it takes MC, I will be with you through this. Please don't give up on me.  I'm coming. Liam calls in the head of his security team.  "I don't care what it takes. This ends nows.  I have to get my family back."  Liam requests extra protection be placed on MC.  

"Sir, if the enemy finds out about this..."

"I know..."

(To be continued...)

Alone (Part 3)  Alone (part 4)

[groundbreaking-science]

1-10 - Breaking Down the Power Level

From the start of my patchy teaching career, beginning as a brother then a parent, my general ethos towards explaining the world has been to never patronise. I have developed some semblance of self-awareness over the years and so may at times simplify or reign in tangents - not everyone needs to know the minutiae to gain a broad understanding of a topic. My aim though is to never shy away from trying to provide a full answer to a question posed, no matter the age or background of the poser. An earnest and enthusiastic question deserves a considered answer with all the nuance one’s expertise can provide in the situation. I trust those listening to instead communicate where clarification would be helpful, or sift through what they need in the moment and chew over the rest later.

In contrast, there’s a trend in wider media to cling to ‘consumers’ of scientific content by ratcheting up the the sensational, the over-simplified, the drama that may or may not be manufactured for entertainment. Narratives within popular science help guide and contain the message within (no one wants to be subjected to a list of facts, even regarding ki) but often the science is so watered down the only substance of the piece is the fluff. Those with a genuine palate for science (or history, or literature, or…) are left underwhelmed on repeated readings and sometimes even mistrusting of the expertise involved.

It is for those reasons I decided to include this section as a hat tip to the insatiably curious, though for those among you with little appetite for a smattering of mathematics, I first bring you a tangential, and completely true, offering in the form of a fish.

I have spoken frequently of a model for ki. By that I mean a story that explains the effects of ki we see using fundamental quantities. The story links cause and effect in the form of equations, transforming the qualitative to the quantitative.

The model presented here is not perfect. All models are an approximation to the truth and there are many simplifications (particularly in this version and I will highlight where), but broadly the model performs well and the limitations of the model are well defined. I trust you to take away what is most useful to you now, and I hope this treatment gives potential undergraduates a taster for some of the more theoretical aspects of a course on ki-use I hope will materialise in the near-future.

When in battle one question sits on the tip of everyone’s tongue: “What is the enemy’s power level?” This is proxy phrase to ask many questions at once. What is the opponent’s potential? How many people will be required to tackle them? How much strength should I use straight out of the gate? What is the risk to the local environment, the nearby populace, the planet? The highest power level will not always win a fight. Power level differences of an order of magnitude, even sometimes two, can be overcome with teamwork and sound strategy. Getting an early indication of the opponent’s location and power can give your team vital time to plan and distribute yourselves effectively.

As we discussed in a previous section, the idea of a power-level measuring device - the scouter - was first introduced to us by Freeza’s personal army and deconstructed by Bulma.

The original scouters performed perfectly well in the situation they were designed for, searching for clusters of life-forms with power levels of 0-2 (encompassing the vast majority of people in the Universe) to allow the possessors to commit mass murder extremely efficiently. The scouters were able to stretch beyond this range, reaching higher power levels of 5.3; any higher and the harmonic oscillator arrays constructed to respond to the vibrations in the ki field (with technology developed along a similar branch to Dr Gero’s) would break. Specifically: the atomic ‘pendulums’ of varied masses contained within ion traps would be kicked out of the holding magnetic fields and flung away into the rest of the structure, shorting the electronics and usually exploding the device. The designers believed the likelihood of any of Freeza’s forces  encountering someone that strong so low they didn’t deem it necessary to prioritise the scouter-wearer’s safety. Clearly Freeza’s true strength, peaking above a power level of eight at that time, was hidden from the vast majority of his forces.

The fully artificial scouters were not flexible enough to cope with everything life could throw at it. Life itself on the other hand has an amazing capacity to give as good as it gets. I can sense everything from tiny fogs of ki in less-than-clean water to the brightest kis in the Universe standing almost blindingly close, and I can do it all without shorting my own circuitry. Whilst the mechanical scouters have a range of 0 to 5.3, the newer versions developed on Earth can cope with -1 to 14, (or 0.1 to 100,000,000,000,000 unlogged). That is tested. Hypothetically they should remain accurate up to a power level of 17 but we never want to be in situation where we’re reading that. Our method’s downside is the loss of precision compared to the original scouter, which was able to differentiate just as well between power levels of 1 and 2 and 10,000 and 10,001. Our scouters do maintain a 0.1% precision however, which is usually sufficient. Anyone wanting finer precision to monitor and argue their progress needs another hobby.

Capsule Corp employees have for the most part stayed away from playing with the biophysics of life, knowing the trouble and potential backfire meddling can cause through the work of Dr Gero. What little research and development that has been done in this field has been led by Bulma and Mai through all above-board personal funding. The new scouters are a result of this off-piste research and utilise a genetic modification of bioluminescent bacteria found in a tropical fish.

The fish in question - the blue-finned angelfish - exclusively inhabits the coral reefs around one of the many South Sea archipelagos. They’re crepuscular feeders, making use of the changing light levels at dawn and dusk that other fish and invertebrates struggle to cope with. When hunting for prey like small fish and krill they spread into what can appear to be a dangerously loose shoal. What makes this strategy effective is the beautiful symbiotic relationship the fish has with a bacteria within the fish’s transparent skin along the fins and tail. The bacteria glows neon yellow using bioluminescence near low power levels (-2 to -1.5) and flickers in a predictable pattern with the ki signature, the wave of flickering allowing for the triangulation of distance. When the glow starts, the fish play a game of hot and cold until close enough to pinpoint their prey through smell. The now brighter glow brings the rest of the shoal to feed into the early night.

Why then are are these fish known as the blue-finned and not yellow-finned angelfish? Well, they are named as yellow locally, though zoologists from the mainland way-back-when never much listened to local expertise, routinely removing chosen specimens from their natural environment to study in the comfort of the lab. As the scientists approached the fish in the tank back home their fins glowed a bright blue and the fish reacted poorly, racing to escape. It transpires the bacteria can luminesce over two colours, yellow for prey and blue for predators - the latter covering intensities of 0.3-2. This range catches the bigger fish and reef sharks that home in on the yellow glow of a feeding shoal. When a wave of blue creeps across the shoal in the near-dark, the fish know to hide. It just so happens this range encompasses the scientists’ own power levels, too. To the scientists with clipboards then, these were only ever blue-finned glowing fish.

The locals know of the fish’s defence intimately and is a source of great amusement. There’s a shallow, natural harbour in one of the smaller islands that, very rarely, a large shoal of angelfish will chase prey into. The harbour is sealed and all the boats dragged onto the shore. A call is then sent to the other islands for an impromptu night-long festival - a spontaneous get-together and chance to catch-up. Traditionally, the arrival of the fish had been seen as a mixed omen, that bad luck is ongoing or shortly arriving. Assembling a group to challenge the fish twice-touched by a creator god (once for each colour) however will guide the selection of the warrior or leader to pull the islands through a time of strife.

The challenge is as follows. Representatives from each attending island volunteer to take on the fish. Their true reasons for participating are varied: trained warriors, children nearing adulthood, people looking to impress an onlooker they’re sweet on, older fishermen showing off their talent, the local clown putting on a show. Each representative is then painted over the course of the afternoon by friends and family with a glowing set of pigments (not made from the fish fins, I hasten to add). Some designs are beautifully intricate; most are messy, child-sized handprints. Everyone then waits for twilight with great anticipation.

The participants take their turn to wade in and try to catch a fish in the harbour with only a net - the great difficulty being of course that the fish will glow blue and alert the shoal to avoid the intruder. This leaves an ever-moving empty ring of water around the participant to flounder in, struggling to cast the net and maybe just reaching the shoal edge. The larger their genki, the wider that ring and the greater the challenge. The winner is decided by elected older folk, and is usually a combination of how fast a fish was caught and how much paint was left on the challenger’s body. About half of participants catch and release a fish, nearly everyone trips, and the spectators have a great time.

Nowadays the omens and winners are not taken seriously beyond passing on fantastical stories, spooking the children or for gaining bragging rights. Usually.

The year before the 28th World Martial Arts Tournament, a shoal made their way into the harbour. The residents of one of many islands answered the call, the group including the young Papayaman and his family. Their island hadn’t been doing so well in recent years; the Moon’s twice vanishing and reappearing act dampened the tides for a time and their delicate yellow mangrove trees took a hit. The entire food chain around the islands and reef was disrupted and the trees would take decades to recover. As the slow-growing tree bark is prized for its tannin, the island’s economy took a brutal hit, too. The residents, previously relatively comfortable, had eaten into their savings and were near the brink. Going to the festival was supposed to be a rare fun day out. As the eldest sibling at nine years old, the boy who would become Papayaman had already resolved to compete in the hope he would be worthy enough to help his family.

The evening went smoothly until the boy took the long walk down towards the water. As he hit the shoreline the fish retreated, that blue ring growing to taunt him, he believed. When in the water the scale of the challenge stretched before him. There was no way he would be able to throw the net that far out, let alone hold onto it to drag a fish back. He became more and more frustrated as his time and paint dwindled and his anger, something he rarely felt, rose… then burst. For a moment the entire bay was full of blue stars, lighting up the dusk. Then the fish bolted, some even jumping onto the shore in a frantic escape attempt, causing pandemonium amongst the younger children.

The boy did not catch a fish himself in the end. But there was no doubt about his potential throughout the archipelago, and he was brought into warrior training as soon as he returned home. He was then selected to attend the tournament on nearby Papaya Island to earn money for his village. Although he didn’t win, due to his efforts and subsequent training the island eventually did recover.

A number of years later the shoal returned and the now young man eventually found a way to catch that fish, finally marking (from his own perspective at least) his graduation from training with my father. And as they say, the rest is history.

My first encounter with the fish was a little more begrudging. I had just “moved” to East City for a postdoctoral position into a cosy office with two others funded on the same grant. We got on well and I was hoping for a relatively relaxing couple of years. That was thrown out the window within the first month when the zebrafish aficionados in the labs two floors below decided to branch out, nabbing a number of blue-finned angelfish to get to grips with the bioluminescence. They’d hypothesised the glowing bacteria were responding to the fish’s excitement and stress levels (apologies for not correcting you sooner) and were planning on running behavioural studies.

Those fish hated me. Even at that distance, my natural aura was just the right strength to set them off. No one could figured out why the fish were constantly stressed during lab hours, until of course the news reached our office and I put two and two together. My chronically guilty self had the most fun five months suppressing my genki at work until the lab moved from data collection to analysis and the fish returned home. Still, I’m grateful I got to peruse the results from the bacterial DNA sequencing. I relayed the gist to Bulma and she was able to isolate, then modify, the particular colour and ki range the bacteria glowed at. I’ve contacted the old lab members for co-authorship on this new work. I hope they’re not too mad.

The new scouters use these modified bacteria to read power levels and ki signatures. Stacked into mini vials filled with agar, the bacteria respond to ki much like cone cells in the eye respond to light wavelengths. The spectrum of light emitted by the bacteria indicate the intensity of ki hitting the scouter, and the specific pulsing is monitored and decomposed to identify ki signatures - much like instruments can be isolated from a song. With at least two detector packs and accelerometers to track the movement of the wearer, ki signatures can be triangulated and located. A simple pair of glasses (less conspicuous than the original scouters) can be used display results - one lens for a simple overlay or both for a full 3D effect. The isolation isn’t fantastic at a distance as the baseline separation between the detectors isn’t that great, but in relatively close quarters they work perfectly. Better yet are the systems Mai built into the jet flier and jeep windshield that give a heads-up display of the scene for both the driver and passenger. Due to “popular” demand there is a smartphone app, though sadly the hardware is not included.

All in all we’re pretty well-equipped to quantify overall power level. The measure was rendered completely useless by Earth’s martial artists, however. As soon as Freeza’s army found we could suppress our ki and therefore their scouters were unable to accurately predict any form of maximal potential, the tech was discarded. With the new scouters, getting beyond that one measure to find all the components - genki boosts, yuuki, shouki, the base power, flow suppressions, effort - is entirely possible and we can fully model a person’s ki-use and potential. The equations for the model (omitting the calculus) are as follows. 

The overall power P (without being logged) can be defined as the total energy E_T divided by the time interval t, or

We know the total energy can be expressed as

Or, as the sum of energy derived from the field (E_F) and what is remaining of genki energy E_G,rem. This can be substituted into the first equation to form

Genki energy E_G is divided into two parts: the genki that is amplified (E_G,amp) and the remaining genki (E_G,rem), so the above is expanded to

From section 1-9 we know E_G,amp can be expressed with the fraction of genki chosen to be converted from genki to field, f_GF. Substituting for E_G,rem we get

Recall also from that section E_F is a function of E_G,amp, the converted fraction fGF and the efficiency of amplification from genki to field, a_GF,

Substituting through we get

And then simplified down:

Let’s take stock here. We’ve been able to break down the power level into a number of base stats - the amplification, the fraction converted and genki energy. As a sanity check here, if the amplification of genki (a_GF) is less than 1 this will lead to that central bracket becoming negative and the entire combined power level less than if it were from genki alone. This correctly mimics the disappointing early stages of learning to amplify genki, where you get less out than you put in. You will need to persevere!

We can further break down the genki energy into the flow rate of particles from the centre Q and the average charge per particle, q.

We use the average charge rather than an exact value due to the slight variation genki charge can possess, the variation of which is mirrored in the colour spectrum of the aura. In extreme cases (like the kaioken with a double peak in section 1-8) the two averages can be noted and incorporated in a full treatment. The assumption of only one smooth peak and therefore one mean is usually made.

From section 1-8 we also know that the flow Q is the flux Phi_p multiplied by the surface area A. This is simplified. The flux measured can be directionally dependent if the ki-user is focusing down an attack for example. For the most part though, the aura is isotropic (the same in all directions). In reality the calculation should be a closed integral over the centre surface, modelled as a sphere.This then all ties together as

and substituting in

The power level is not a static value. The surface area A can change with transformation or suppression, as can the average charge q. Both of these quantities are defined with dynamic variables. Remember from section 1-9 that yuuki (y, courage) can affect these manipulations of surface area and charge,

And

where A is the surface area at rest, q the average charge at rest, and f refers to the resultant fractional change the ki-user is affecting. e is the effort assigned to perform these changes. Theta refers to all the parameters needed to define the function translating effort and yuuki into that fractional change. From section 1-8 we know most ki-users step up in genki using those harmonically defined troughs of required effort and sit at one level rather than hovering in tricky spots. Yuuki modifies these curves by raising them, meaning the ki-user requires more effort to reach the same desired fractional change. Some levels even become ‘locked out’ entirely. These functions take the same wavey and upwards shape for everyone, though the actual width, height and ramp up of effort required will change between ki-users. Whilst these functions are complicated, a good approximation can be made with a relatively small number of parameters. Explicitly defining those functions is beyond the scope of this book, but suffice to say the parameters for those functions can be thought of as base stats, too.

Similar to yuuki, shouki (s,strength of will) feeds into the efficiency of conversion between genki and field energy in a similar fashion -

Where a_GF,0 is ones go-to conversion rate. Whereas yuuki affected the ki-users ability to change from natural outputs, in this case we do not perform any amplification naturally (though we have a habitual value) so shouki affects the ki-user’s ability to amplify genki at all - if shouki is 0, no amount of assigned effort will amplify genki.

There is an additional constraint on these values. One of course only has a limited amount of effort to give. Some must go into general thought and movement, so we can surmise

Knowing some manipulations of flow, charge and amplification would be downright impossible, this one inequality can help constrain the rest of the parameters considerably.

In full then, one rearranged form of the equation for a ki-user’s power level (omitting some nuances for legibility) is

Putting this all together, we have a number of default ‘base stats’ - A_0, q_0, a_GF,0 and Phi_p (along with the effort to flow rate, effort to genki charge and effort to amplification functions defined with θs) and the dynamic stats y, s, e_A, e_(A_GF)  and e_q. From these there are a number of derived stats like f_GF, f_q, f_(a_GF), Q, q and the most useful split of power level, E_G and E_F .

Given some loose assumptions and probabilities assigned to each of these variables - so-called priors that were discussed in section 1-3 - one can monitor a changing power level and narrow down these assumptions using increasing evidence as time passes to give parameter estimates.

What kind of priors? We know some states of particle flow and genki charge are difficult to reach due to the harmonics inherent in the process, and so ki-users are going to avoid particular power levels due to the increase in effort required to hold them. We can assume ki-users will default to a habitual level of genki amplification. Flow rate will never increase above base without particular techniques like transformation. Charge never drops below the default level unless the flow rate is unnaturally high or the ki-user is exhausted. All of these assumptions can be programmed into the model as prior assumptions.

One must be careful with priors to never attribute zero probability to a possibility otherwise that one-in-a-million chance will never appear in the probable results in the updating model. I could assume that no one with a Earthling appearance could have a power-level above 2, for example. If I turn these assumption on my Uncle Krillin the model will give the best answer it can, maybe trying to say that he has a very efficient genki to field conversion rate to compensate for the lack of flexibility in the model. Instead, by allowing some very small, highly unlikely chance for an Earthling to have such a high natural power level, the updated prior will be pulled to this region with every new data point, showing the unlikely to be more and more possible.

When encountering odd enemies one may ‘widen the priors’ to encompass highly unlikely scenarios like godly-powered Earthlings. ‘Flattening the priors’ means allowing all possible scenarios. Whilst that sounds like the best idea, flattening leads to a large number of possible solutions when you know some combination of base stats are more likely to occur than others. Choosing priors for any kind of succession analysis is an art form in itself.

There can be a lot of information and possibilities to process when building up a picture of a ki-user, but with a careful set of tasks to perform in a calm environment, someone’s base stats at least can be obtained and updated on a semi-regular basis. This narrows down the parameter space before entering battle considerably, reducing the uncertainty when finding the dynamic variables. Some tasks include running up and down ki output from fully suppressed to maximum, or how quickly one can amplify a set amount of genki. For new enemies the scouter has to work overtime, but with every second of new information our intel improves considerably. Even if all the enemies’ parameters haven’t been constrained, the more varied their attacks and strategy the faster we can build up a picture to start answering key questions such as whether the enemy is holding back their strength.

For our team, Mai is able to feed us updates about each other’s status, allowing us to adjust the plan should someone be running low and too proud to admit it, or the enemy be surprisingly resilient. For all the rudimentary single word or single image telepathy usually thrown around the field,hearing an articulate voice in your ear confirming that you’re tired  or Auntie Bulma yelling to calm down should the panic be setting in can be very disconcerting. I refer to ‘us’; I’m never very careful with the tiny earpiece and I blow it within minutes. As much as the data intrigues me I’m far too used to running from my own observations. I’m not the only one to have been on the sharp end of a scolding, the earpieces are notoriously difficult to keep intact. Pan has the longest survival time of forty-five minutes and even that’s contested as for the first half an hour she was deliberately suppressing as a feint.

The scouters are useful in the moment and for review, but their most interesting day-to-day function is how the software can track improvement. This of course leads to competition. Endless competition. From conversations I’ve overheard, the moment one of the kids feels they’ve improved the scouters are out. There are often disputes because someone is 'using the scouter wrong’ and Mai is dragged in to adjudicate or fix what turns out to be perfectly functional hardware… Bulma put her foot down very quickly on getting drawn into these arguments. Even the old guard cannot contain their curiosity and will play with them at parties for old times’ sake.

Realistically though, the live-feed technology is more a gimmick for us. We know each other well enough and are sadly so experienced that our gut reactions, whilst not quantifiable, are usually correct. In actuality, the technology as a whole continues to be developed for future use. It would be well-suited for personal status trackers across a large group to be fed back to a control hub, or to help tailor training for new ki-users to maximise their efforts.

“New ki-users”. For those who haven’t flicked to later chapters that phrase must be torture to read right now. I understand. This section now closes the ‘brief’ chapter on the theoretical framework behind ki and we will now move onto the practical elements. You can breathe. Speaking of, if you have been working on those centring exercises I’d hope you’d have found your centre by now, have fantastic posture and felt the first hints of the natural flow of genki with your breath. This is preparation that will, in the coming chapter, pay dividends.

Ah. During this chapter I did promise you a particular story. I hadn’t forgotten, nor have I left it deliberately late to tease. I wanted to put myself, friends and family in a wider context before tackling it lest there is any misunderstanding after. I also wanted to put the story front and centre in the textbook chapter I believe will be the most read because of the tale’s significance - not just to world history or tangentially to ki but to me.  

The story’s about the Cell Games, and how I came to be that little boy on the hill.

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[irlaimsaaralath]

Drawn By Sorrow - Part 2

This is a continuation of this.  And it references things that happen in this.

Of course, none of it is required reading, it’ll just make things make more sense.  No violence or naughties here.  Just some sparring and talking and stuff.

In the darkness, the crystal thrummed insistently until a hand retrieved it.  A voice made alien by the magic whispered, “Both attempts failed?”  The answering voice, deeper in pitch, said, “Yes.  She cannot be touched for the moment.  Another attack so soon would be expected.”  The crystal issued a dissonant hum before the first voice responded, “True.  We will have to wait for an opportunity to present itself.”

When she fell, she hit the ground hard on her backside, and the jolt vibrated from her tailbone all the way up her spine.  She grunted, winced, and turned a frustrated glare up at Abelas.  He only motioned at her with his sword, two upward ticks, before he said, “Again.”  Instead, she leaned back on her hands and made an exasperated noise, tilting her eyes up to the sky.  “The sun is setting, and we’ve been at this all day.  I think I’ve had enough,” she said, tired and sore and perhaps a bit cranky.  “We are not finished yet,” he stated firmly as he walked over and offered a hand down.  She considered the hand for a moment, then shook her head and took it, allowing him to help her back to her feet.  As he returned to his side of the ring, he spoke with an unmistakeable air of command, “The soldier does not get to decide when the battle is over.  It ends when he is dead or the day is won or lost.  Not before.”  

When he turned to face her, she was still roughing the dust off the back of her pants, and once done, only then did she retrieve the hilt of her sword.  Snapping her arm out to the side, tendrils of energy ran from her shoulder to the hilt, seeping into the metal and building outward into a blade made of her will alone.  “Yes, but this isn’t a battle.  This is practice,” she reminded him, though he seemed to utterly ignore the protest as he swung his own arcane sword upward in front of his face in a ready salute.  With a roll of her shoulders, she bobbed back and forth on her feet before she steadied her stance and returned the salute.

There was an electric thrumming in the air as the pair pushed each other back and forth within the ring, their swords clashing with hisses of energy that shed sparks into the dusky light of evening.  She managed to get in a few good strikes, forcing the Sentinel off-balance, though he recovered with an ease and grace that she desperately envied.  While at the beginning of the match, she had been on the defensive, trying mostly to parry and dodge his attacks, she grew bolder as they fought onward.  No longer was she simply batting away his sword, but rather pushing him back with aggressive strikes that set him on the defensive instead.  She wasn’t the only one sweating with the exertion now, and that knowledge sent a tiny thrill through her body.  With a barrage of relentless maneuvers, she had her partner penned at the railing, and their swords met between them with a violent crackling of energy.  The contrasting hues of the blades made severe lines of his features, cutting shadows across the curves of his cheeks and brow.  Vaguely, this moment reminded her of another long ago -- the glow of red lyrium had made a mockery of the templar’s once normal features, creating a monstrous collection of misshapen forms -- and her resolve faltered but for a moment, but that single hesitation allowed Abelas to regain the upper hand.  

A twist of his wrist locked the guard of his sword in hers, wrenching it from her grip as he angled a leg behind hers to sweep her legs from under her.  When she fell, he set upon her, straddling her hips as he held her down by her shoulder and drew the already retreating blade of his sword beneath her chin.  Her breath left her in deep puffs, and she felt the magic of the blade tickle her skin as it snapped back into his hilt.  Tossing piece of metal aside, he pressed down on her other shoulder, effectively pinning her to the ground.  “What went wrong?” he asked between his own quickened breaths.  Gripping one of his wrists, she gazed up at him unerringly.  “I became distracted,” she confessed, casting her eyes to the side.  “By what?” he pressed her as he leaned into his hands.  She grunted at the weight on her shoulders and struggled up, managing only to bring her face closer to his as her eyes flashed.  “Why does it matter?  The result is the same,” she said with a hard edge in her voice before dropping her head back to the ground.  “It matters.  If you know what it is, we can work to correct it.  A real enemy will not be so forgiving,” he said sternly as he awaited a satisfactory answer.  

Instead, she shifted her legs beneath him until she was able to hook her leg over the back of one of his, and with the hand on his wrist, she wrench his arm at the same time she drove the heel of her free hand into his elbow.  The impact caused the joint to collapse and bend, severely shifting his balance to one side.  She took advantage of the opportunity and gripped his shoulder and pushed, forcing him over and onto his back.  Perched atop him, she glowered down into his somewhat stunned face as she pinned his shoulders, all but spitting, “I know all about the forgiveness of a real enemy, and I do not require a lecture from you on the subject.”  Her fingers were digging into the thin padding of his training gambeson, pinching his skin hard enough to bruise.  

He didn’t flinch under the pain or struggle in her grasp, only let his golden eyes range over hers.  “I did not teach you that,” was what he said when he finally spoke, quietly and without much inflection.  “No, you didn’t.  Cassandra did,” she replied, the steel in her voice softening somewhat.  He only nodded before saying, “I yield, lethallan.  It seems you have won the day.”  She didn’t relent immediately, but considered him for a moment more instead, fingers flexing in the padding over his shoulders.  Then, she took a hitching breath as she released him and sat back on her heels.  “‘Ma serannas, Ena'sal'in'amelan,” she offered with a sort of weary sincerity as she tapped her fist to her chest in salute.

In the following days, she avoided him, conveniently busy with meetings and paperwork she was usually content to postpone long enough for a sparring match or a conversation over a meal.  He didn’t force the issue and occupied himself with other activities.  He would catch glimpses of her passing through the courtyard as he helped Dennet brush down the horses or would glance up from a conversation with Varric to see her as she exited the war room corridor and disappeared straight away behind the door to her quarters.  Though she walked with her head high, there was a sort of distance in her eyes that suggested her polite smiles and brief interactions were more muscle memory in action than genuine attention.  --  One evening, he found himself swayed by Josephine into spectating a game of Wicked Grace in the tavern.  We will teach you to play, she’d promised, and the glint in her eye somehow told him she would be the most dangerous one at the table.  Watching them all play, he saw that he’d been right.  Despite himself, his inward amusement at the spectacle was betrayed by his lips, which from time to time broke into a smile.  It didn’t go unnoticed by Varric, who seemed to see everything, and he endured the dwarf’s teasing as graciously as possible.  However, the sound of feet on the stairs, the creaking of wood, and the click of boot heels called his attention away from the game, and he shifted his eyes up to find Niyera.  She stepped off the stairs without sparing a glance to either side as she strode out of the door.

He excused himself from the table despite numerous entreaties to stay, promising to return another time, before he made his way out and into the night.  Scanning the courtyard, he spied the shifting of a shadow and followed it.  Up the stairs and onto the ramparts, where a pair of torches lit the tower entrances at each end, but the middle was left to languish in darkness.  That was where he found her, hands braced against the stone as she stared out over the mountains.  Her hair was undone, falling past her shoulders in loose waves that were silvered by the moonlight, and her form was encased in supple leather that embraced every curve.  A shallow inclination of her head told him she was aware of his presence as he came to stand on the other side of the walkway from her, reclining back against the stone.  “Are you ready to tell me?” he inquired, with nothing in his voice aside from the neutrality she’d come to know him for.  “Tell you what?” she returned without looking back, only lifting her head to inspect the dark line of the horizon again.  

His boots scuffed a whisper on the stone as he leaned away from the wall and approached her, “Do not feign ignorance.  It does not suit you.”  Silence was her only answer, so he closed the distance between them and slid a hand from her shoulder to elbow, where he urged her to turn with light pressure.  “What are you afraid of, lethallan?”  She allowed the touch to turn her, but her eyes failed to meet his.  The relentless memories replayed on the backs of her lids every time she closed her eyes, the pace quickened and slowed by the rise and fall of the Well’s ever-present voices.  It was only his touch, the tip of his thumb beneath her chin, that drew her face upward, and she finally settled her gaze on his.  “Tell me,” was his gentle command, and she responded by shaking her head.  “It’s too much.  It was a long time ago, and it’s still...it still feels raw,” she gave him the truth, but it felt like weakness.  “I-,” she paused, swallowing past the knot at the base of her throat and pinching the inside of her cheek between her teeth until she tasted blood.  A cold calm slithered across her shoulders, and she shivered as some of the tension was lulled by the pain.  

“They won’t die, the memories...and they don’t heal.  And, I...I just can’t,” she struggled to get the words out, and her hands flexed into and out of fists.  “Memories never die, lethallan, but they can be sated so they remain where they belong.  In the past.”  She felt the sting of tears rising in her eyes, but she clamped her jaw tight against them as her arms hung limply at her sides.  “If you will allow, I can help you, teach you,” he said, wrapping his hands around hers to stop the relentless clenching.  Her response was to lean into him, her head bowed to rest her forehead on his chest.  “Please,” she whispered as her fingers unclenched to thread into his.  There was desperation in her grip, in her weight against him, and the tremble of her breathing vibrated through the center of his chest.  “We can begin tomorrow,” he assured her, resting his chin briefly atop her head.  “What if I can’t?  The voices...they make it so hard to focus.  I...think I’m losing my own voice in the Well’s,” she admitted hesitantly, as if saying the words aloud somehow made the possibility more real.  One hand released hers and slid along her jawline, holding her gently as he set his mouth near her ear.  

Elvhen in the low, rolling purr of his voice caressed her ear, but the way the words flowed from his lips wove them into satin.  She was able to pick out threads, but the rest washed over her and through her, and she felt the rise of the Well’s presence in the back of her mind.  A shiver trailed over her scalp like the rake of nails, and she closed her eyes against the sensation.  Gradually, his words sank beneath her skin like a balm to a burn, and the voices of the Well coiled in on themselves and retreated to her subconscious.  The tension in her core unwound, and she exhaled her relief into the linen of his tunic.  Eventually, he leaned back with the same unreadable expression as always on his features.  “We will see to that as well,” he said as he took a step back, and her hand reluctantly let him go.  She only nodded, eyes riveted to him as he returned the gesture then walked away.  Left standing alone on the ramparts, she didn’t bother to try to hide the tremor that snaked through her body and set her skin to tingling.  She told herself it was just sudden departure of the extra voices in her head, whatever magic Abelas had whispered into her ear to make them stop, because that’s what she needed it to be.  She couldn’t contemplate anything else.

Working with Abelas to tame the memories that haunted her wasn't exactly what she had expected.  She had envisioned exercises in mindfulness, and those eventually came, but the lessons began by confronting the memories.  You cannot work through what you cannot accept, he had told her, and of course, he was right.  But, there was so much tied up in that memory -- Solas, her own stupidity and grief, Cullen.  It was one heartache stacked on another until the tower was so high that she wanted to jump simply because it was the quickest way back to the ground.  It was easier to take that pain and redirect it -- it made a functional person of her again when there was something to channel it into, and when there wasn’t, it all fell apart.  Before she had realized, the conversation about the memories had turned to discussions of the present.  It was impossible to separate the two because of Solas.  Abelas was unexpectedly understanding.  She talked, and Abelas listened.   When she got angry, he took her into the sparring ring and gave her an outlet for it.  When she cried, he held her without judgment.  He became her stoic confidant, a teacher with hard lessons that weren’t pleasant but necessary, and in the end left her better for his guidance.  He became her friend, and she could count on his honest appraisal regardless of her opinions -- not cruel, but frank -- and his tender care when she needed it.

It was only after this that the rest came:  the mindfulness exercises, the breathing, the focusing techniques.  For hours they would sit, cross-legged and knee to knee, simply being, breathing.  She would be lost so deep in thought that when she felt Abelas’s hands, one pressing in her stomach, the other straightening her back to correct her posture, she would flinch with a start.  She didn’t know why, but it always made something light in his eyes and one corner of his mouth hitch a little higher.  She only ever smiled sheepishly in response, regardless of how many times it happened.  You cannot be emotionless.  You do not want to be emotionless, he had said.  You must learn how to let them wash over you and fill you, but not control you.  After weeks of diligent practice and guidance, she was learning to use her emotions to feed her power, her magic.  It was all about control.  He even taught her how to tame the Well’s voices into something manageable, something she could trust the feel of even if she didn’t understand the words.  It was refreshing to feel as if she finally had command of herself again, refreshing and relieving.  She was touched by how much he gave:  first his friendship, then helping her reclaim herself.  There would never be sufficient thanks to give him for either.

She retrieved another letter from the stack on her desk, but, unlike the others, this one gave her pause.  The round of crimson wax sealing the parchment was embossed with the unmistakable seal of the Champion of Kirkwall.  Without hesitation, she broke the seal and began to read.   Hawke reported that the Grey Wardens had made it to Weisshaupt without incident, but that problems began soon after the fall of Corypheus.  Wardens began to go missing.  Men and women on the fringe, those that took their patrols alone, those that had been less than thrilled with the Inquisitor’s decision on their exile.  They began disappearing one at a time, then maybe two.  All told, nearly a quarter of their ranks were missing.  Hawke had sent out search parties, but some hadn't returned, and the ones that did reported possible red templar activity in the Western Approach near Coracavus.  Niyera leaned back in her chair.  Coracavus had long been abandoned by Corypheus’s forces, with the darkspawn breech forcing them out.   Of course that was sealed now, thanks to the Inquisition, but why would they return to a former known location?  With a sigh, she deposited the missive on her desk and massaged her fingers into her brow.   She would have to bring this up with the advisors in the morning as no doubt this was going to require investigation.

First thing in the morning, she called a meeting in the war room and slid the letter across the table to her advisors.  “I received this yesterday,” she offered, pausing for them to read the missive.  Her arms were crossed, and she paced slowly back and forth along the back of the room.  The noise Cullen made drew her attention, and she found him with both hands braced on the table as he stared down at the parchment.  “How are there still enough red templars left to even be a threat anymore?  Who are they following?  And, with Corypheus dead, why would they need Grey Wardens?”  Leliana leaned her hip against the table and folded her arms, uttering, “All very good questions, Commander.  My network has suggested that there is still a templar presence, but that their numbers are greatly hobbled.  Surely not enough to mount any significant offensive.”  Niyera was still pacing when she suggested, “Perhaps they’re trying to create another Corypheus.”  Three pairs of eyes locked on her in unison, and she stood still before them.  “It’s not that far fetched, is it?  They’re unlikely to readily have ancient magisters that have seen the Black City just laying around, but it doesn’t mean they won’t try to recreate the creature just on theory alone.”  Cullen straightened and pushed out a heavy sigh as he rubbed at the back of his neck.  “Corypheus did use Wardens exclusively for his regenerations.  It would make sense for copycats to do the same.”  Josephine passed her eyes across the map, gesturing with her quill, “Who would be interested in duplicating such a thing?  Tevinter?”  The Inquisitor nodded and tugged a hand through her hair, “Who else but the Imperium?  I can ask Dorian to put out some feelers and see what he is able to come up with.”  

“We can’t afford to wait to see if that bears fruit.  If we allow this to fester, their numbers could grow,” Cullen said as he straightened, propping both hands on his hips as his features hardened.  “I’ll take a party down there to scout it and see what the situation looks like,” Niyera said as she nodded.  “I’m going with you,” the Commander informed her, and her brows lifted in response.  “I hardly think that’s necessary.  Dorian, Bull, and I should be perfectly capable of-,” and Cullen cut her off with a wave of his hand.  “I am going with you.  Besides, I also think we should dispatch a group to Weisshaupt to shore up security there.  Bull and Thom would be ideal for the mission.”  Her lips pursed as she cast a dubious glance to Leliana, who raised a noncommittal shoulder, “It would be wise to root out whether there was some vulnerability in the fortress or if the disappearances are defections.  I can, of course, send my scouts or go myself, but Bull would be the best alternative to any of those options.”  Niyera rolled her head, shifting her shoulders to the greeting of several snaps and pops.  “Very well.  If you’re all in agreement, then send Bull and Thom.  I need you here, Leliana, to keep things in hand.  We’ll set out in the morning.”  Nods were passed around the table, and they all filed out.

A couple hours after sunset, Niyera found herself in the undercroft, rummaging through the storage for extra supplies for the trip.   Runes, a couple of sigils, perhaps an amulet or two.   She balanced her already-weighty pack on her thigh as she tucked the bits and pieces into the side pockets and pouches.  She passed only the briefest glance over her shoulder when she heard the door behind her open, then went back to her task.  “Abelas, what brings you down here at this time of night?”  He hadn’t said anything yet, but she could feel his presence at her back.  It was more than his warmth, but a sort of energy that was distinctly his and that he radiated without thought.  “I have heard that you’re traveling to the Western Approach tomorrow,” he said simply, evenly.  She nodded as she tugged the toggle up the drawstring on her bag to secure it closed, then turned to answer, “Yes, there’s been a bit of disturbance with the Grey Wardens and suspicions of renewed red templar activity.  It has to be investigated.”  She shrugged the bag onto her shoulder as she faced Abelas, but he made no move to unblock her path.  

“I am going with you,” he stated, and she followed it with a firm shake of her head.  “No, we don’t expect it to be an overly dangerous mission,” she assured him, and when he frowned, she added, “and, I need you here.  With Cullen coming with us and Bull and Thom leaving for Weisshaupt, it leaves Cassandra alone here with command.  I want her to have backup in the event that something would happen while we are gone, and you have the experience for that.”  His cheeks hollowed slightly as he folded his arms, and she could see his jaw working as he ground his teeth.  “I will do as you say, but I am not comfortable with the situation.  I would rather see to your safety personally,” he said flatly, and she raised a hand to pat his cheek gently.  “Duly noted, Sentinel,” she said, lifting onto her toes to place a kiss on the opposite cheek before scooting around him.  She hadn’t reached the door before he snagged her arm and tugged her back.  “Humor me in one thing?” he asked.  A quirk of her brow greeted Abelas when she turned to face him, and he reached into his jerkin and pulled out a small green crystal.  “Take this with you.  If you have need of me, crush it, and I will know,” and without waiting for her answer, he pressed it into her palm and closed her fingers around it.  The small bit of crystal gave off a subtle chill and shivered when she brushed her thumb across it.  “Very well, I will take it,” she said, offering him an indulgent smile, “Thank you.”  He nodded and reluctantly released her arm, cautioning, “Keep it close,” as she departed.

Before dawn had broken, she was up and on her way down to the armory for her armor.  Tucked inside an inner pocket of her doublet was Abelas’s crystal, its occasional trembling reminding her of its presence.  In contrast, she had been unaware of the Sentinel’s attendance that morning as he stood atop the ramparts, arms folded stiffly as he watched her go.

[thegreythoughtsblog]

Tip #9 - Torture Your Characters

As writers, we struggle to know what the interesting thing in our story is. We actively seek to find something entertaining for the reader within our own preexisting interests. We go on a complex quest to discover this fact, to come to the realization and overcome the confusion of not knowing and being lost. Yet, we never stop to think that the very steps we take to discover what is interesting is what is interesting. Readers want to witness a complex quest with struggles and challenges. Readers want to see the characters realize their weaknesses and overcome them to solve the troubles and trying times they’re faced with. The story is the experience.

So how do we go about knowing which struggle should face these characters? Which quests they should go on?

Simple. Torture your character.

Find the darkest, worst thing that could happen to your character. What would affect them in the most negative way? Make that happen. Put the character through true misery. Through truly trying times.

Then, make the character survive a seemingly infinite domino effect of things getting worse from that point. Make them cry. Make them scream. Push them to the verge of breaking. But never let them break. Just before they give up give them the strength and will they need to keep going. Do this a million times, until your character begins to see the pattern. Begins to understand that they can push through.

When attempting to do this it’s important to avoid the usual traps that others fall into.

1. Real Torture

The torture needs to feel real to the characters experiencing them and real to the reader. This means creating an anchor to a reality in which these events don’t happen as a point of reference. Whether it’d be through flashbacks, dialogue or setting the world up ahead of the tragedies striking, it all needs to be believable.

This goes to say, a character cannot be tortured by something they deem normal. If they do it regularly or if they see it regularly it cannot apply as the torture that is life changing.

Discover what these characters’ fears are. Discover what they feel self conscious about. Discover what they avoid. Discover their nightmares. What makes them hopeless. Who their worst enemies are. Who their rivals are. Their past tragedies. Their traumas.

When you do. Use all of them against the character.

2. Possible Circumstances

The torture cannot come out of nowhere and just so happen to be exactly what the character would hate the most. There needs to be a process as to how these events came to be and with it would come the explanation as to why the character is obligated to face these difficult circumstances.

3. Realistic Realization

The realization can’t be a literal realization.

The worst possible thing you can do as a writer is Tell something that needs to be Shown. A character should never arrive at a conclusion that the reader could not have also arrived at, and the only way to assure that both can arrive at the same conclusion through reasonable means is to sprinkle all the parts that add up to the conclusion throughout the story.

Example: 

If water is the monster’s weakness, at some point before the character concludes it and decides to drown the monster to defeat it they must have seen an instance of there being a leaky pipe and it avoiding it, sprinklers going off and the monster not crossing through there, but instead, going around.

Earlier in the story - “I could barely focusing over the loud barreling of the creature down the hall. Anything is better than nothing. As an animal maybe loud sounds freak it out? I hopped on one of the desks and held the lighter up to the fire detector setting off the alarms and the fire sprinklers.

It’s screams could be heard as it ran out of the school.”

Middle of the story - “It caught up to me in City Hall. But I knew how to stop it now. It’s thumping feet a few halls down were racing towards me. Luckily the fire alarm was right next to me. I pulled it.

But for whatever reason, this time it didn’t scream. It didn’t run away. Was it adapting? Fight or flight mode. I’d have to leave city hall and return after I’d escaped it.”

During Realization - “When I was across the river, I thought it couldn’t see me and kept moving. When I was in the school I thought the fire alarm scared it away. When I was in the sewers I could have sworn it was chasing the rats. But the river had water, the fire sprinklers were on in the school and I’d run under a pipe spewing water in the sewers. It’s avoiding the water!”

The series of events that lead to the realization could have been noticed by the reader before this realization took place. There were no parts of the equation that were hidden and thus the conclusion could be made by piecing available information together.

4. Lessons Should Make Sense

The ultimate lesson and theme needs to come from the events. There shouldn’t be a lesson learned that doesn’t apply to the story. Their proof of overcoming becomes aware to the reader through the wisdom the character acquired through the story.

Example:

Early in the the story it’s established that the main character spends his time alone because he finds himself unworthy and dumb. Feels incapable of accomplishing things. But at least they’ve always got family to help them when they’re scared of the dark and monsters.

Not having friends means they have to face this monster alone and the family went on vacation just as this monster came to see the light of day. The worst possible scenario, facing monsters in the dead of night while alone.

Bad Lesson - I defeated the monster after piecing the puzzle back together. This is proof that I’m worthy of friendship and deserve to be loved.

Good Lesson - After everything I’ve been through, it turns out I could do it on my own. I’m more capable than I thought I was. And with what I know I can help others.

The Bad Lesson has a disconnect from the reality of the narrative and solves problems for the character that the circumstances didn’t give them the tools for. There is no reason surviving alone should allow the confidence to make new friends.

The Good Lesson, on the other hand, uses the very weaknesses of the character and the journey to reinforce what took place throughout the narrative and apply those acquired skills for the future.

The character should learn from the circumstances they are faced with. From the difficulties they are confronted with. But those must be the worst possible things that this character could imagine happening to them. And overcoming those challenges should not be easy. There should be moments in which the characters question their ability to continue. There should be moments in which the characters feel a lack of spirit and nearly quit on the journey as a whole. But the circumstances themselves should obligate the character to continue, to push through, to finish the journey.

Writing is difficult and it’s a process from which we only learn by doing. We only learn by being there. The struggles arise from the process, from the journey. This should be the take of your character. It should be a journey that you (the writer) are going on. Their highs should be your highs and their lows should be your lows. Write what’s true, even if the work is fiction the emotions and the journey are biographies.  

[gamehackercheats-blog]

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Playing at lightning speed this battle is all about tactics, strategy and metagame. Because the cost to battle is free, players can play for hours on end. The game's design to not offer currency but trophies stands in good stead because it gives the players a chance to play with strong opponents also thereby enhancing the thrill of the game.

4. The timer for the Cofre de Coronas every 24h is reset from the moment you get the first crown of the current chest. For this reason, it is important to try to get at least one crown as soon as the new Cofre de Coronas available.

Clash Royale is an addictive game with the perfect blend of combat, cards, spells, the good and the bad, superb graphics and perceptive controls. In this metagame every card has its place and its importance defined. There is a perfect balance of cards where every deck is different and unique from the others maintaining the challenge and the interest all the time. A few drawbacks to be noted are that a defender has undue advantage because the player can see the attacker's card before making his own move. Another bone of contention is their monetization which has come under severe criticism. Barring these two issues Clash Royale is a complete package that enthrals and thrills all the way testing your wits right till the very end.

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"480"frameborder="0"> Clash Royale Hack To Get Cards 1. Everything can be obtained from the chests(including free and Cofre de Coronas) is based on your current level Arena. Which means that you can not get any card that has not been unlocked yet. For this reason, you have to try to reach as many trophies as possible, because the reward is always better in the upper sands.

While playing this game would be exciting, it really tiring and time-consuming to upgrade and collect card of your characters. For example you must pay with gems only to get unique special cards, with greatly limiting to getting gems, this is major pain in the butt, or it will spend you real money. Most people use cr hack or cr cheats to avoid this loophole system.

Let me assure you, this is 100% the best way to hack Clash Royale on Android and iOS. Once you've requested just how much of a particular resource you want, it will proceed to make use of a reliable gem glitch, depending on which one it is you're looking for. What's even better is that once you've hacked Clash Royale, that is it! It's already quick to hack the game now, but once everything has been set up and done the first time through, it will be even faster for you to use the hack tool for a second time and get some more free gems. Just know that this is the one, if not the only, real deal when it comes cheats, and it's the reason I'm no longer waiting hours upon hours for my chests to open. Not when I can open them up using my unlimited resource for free gems. So, with that, I look forward to seeing you on the top of the leader board, because trust me, with this ultimate gem and gold generator, you'll be up there on the top in no time at all!

You will be glad to know that this online hack tool also accompanies user friendly cheats so that beginners can also beat in game challenges with ease. If you are at learning stage of Royale then you will definitely need some expert tricks to move ahead safely. These clash royale cheats can help you to step ahead carefully into each level and will make your journey full of fun and adventure. It will also help you to generate more in game resources and your powers will be naturally boosted. It becomes much easier to ensure right deployment of characters and troops using cheats and your clan can stay safe from enemy attacks. It is right time to go online and use your cloud based hack tool for fast access to cheats and free gems.

CR gamers come here and looking for a good CR cheats Mod that give them real gems. We have developing this online cr hack system that work on all device like iOS iPhone/ Android/ Mac/ PC to solve most of cR players problem. If you are a CR player who wants to enjoy playing this game and search for cheats or hack gems without the difficulty then you are in correct place! Our online based system is safe and very effective, it will give you unlimited amount of gold, elixir, even real gems. You just enter your username of CR and put the amount of gems you want then it all set.

Another problem is when you play cr, earning gold and elixir is little bit time consuming. Although you can play this for a year, then you will have great dominate account on your device. Gold and elixir can be earned by winning your battle in campaign mode or multiplayer mode, and participacing in quest, you must patience with it or you can spend real money to buy gems and use it to get gold or elixir.

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Other than the typical gameplay elements of Clash Royale, there is also the addictive nature of collectible card games, which come in the form of new units and spells which can be used on the battlefield. Collect enough of these cards, and you can upgrade/level up one of your cards to be just that little bit more potent against your next opponent. These cards you can pay for using gold, or you can acquire them through chests, of which you unlock after you complete a game. So far, Clash Royale is looking to be another big hit for Supercell. Fans adore the charming and friendly graphics that Supercell games are known for. Not only that, the gameplay is simple to learn and understand, and yet if you learn to master it, you can arise as a champion among players, especially in the PVP scene. Just like Clash of Clans, Supercell struck gold with Clash Royale!

You might be aware of the fact that elixir, gold and gems are some of the most essential currencies in Clash Royale platform. But the sad truth is that you have to make lots of struggle on the way to collect these resources. It is essential to prove your abilities and fighting skills to gain access to in game resources and of course this is a complicated task for beginners. Also, players need to make some in app purchases time to time to boost their powers against opponents but sadly if you don't have enough amount of resources then you can not even update your characters and powers with time. Don't worry! We have a perfect solution for you. The Clash Royale Hack Tool: It can solve all your troubles and you will soon be able to beat your enemies on gaming platform. So, let us talk about this interesting source of Clash Royal gems.

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8. Buy always the first 3 or 4 common cards (pay up to 6 or 7 gold) and at least the first rare card displayed in the store every day (40 golds). For each common letter gifts get 5 gold and 1 experience point and for each rare 50 golds and 10 experience. Do the math, really worth buying at the store if only to "resell" donating the clan!

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7. When searching clan, try to find one with many members (over 45) and with the greatest possible number of weekly donations. This will give you more opportunities to donate cards and letters that your requests are met quickly. Look at the composition of the clan before joining to avoid ending up in a clan with many inactive members.

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Before we answer let me tell you a bit more about the game. Clash Royale is a multiplayer focused tower defense game, where the games last as little as 3 minutes per round. Instead of your typical tower defense, where you must place towers in strategic locations, you are in fact going on the offensive. It is your job as the player to spawn in ongoing troops to take over the enemy towers and prove yourself the best around when it comes to PVP. Graphically the game is incredibly similar to Clash of Clans, and when you consider just how popular that graphics style has been for Supercell in the past, it comes as no surprise that they would stick to that style. So Clash Royale is essentially free to play, but that's only until you hit a wall and that's when you will need gems which are not free(hence this hack for Clash Royale).

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Using our hack is really fast and simple. All you need to do is run our generator, input your username and select desired amount of gems! It's as simple as that; Clash Royale hacks has never been easier.

6. Look at the level of your fellow clan when drawing cards. It makes no sense to ask a Mage (a letter from the Arena 5) If there are 2 members with more than 1,400 trophies in your clan, and the rest may still not have unlocked the letter alone.

2. If you are a player free-to-play, focus only level up in the cards you want to use. Check out the cards that carry the top players in your clan so you know what you may find useful when you get to higher levels. The cards need gold to level up will come a point where you need more than 1,000 gold for each update ... Gold is the main barrier in this game. Try to save gems until you can buy the pack of 10,000 golds for 500 gems, it is the best way to spend your gems.

There are lots of useful resources on the internet about Clash Royale that you can use to your advantage. Most players think the only way you can get ahead in the game is by buying gems or somehow obtain free unlimited gems, gold or chests with a hack tool, apk mod or cheat. You will be astonished to find that how many don't bother to read the enormous useful advice there is already present online on other Clash Royale fan websites. Just head over to a site like Clash Royale Wiki and start reading. There are many strategies described, winning decks, guides, tips, and tricks which can help you beat anyone! For example, there is the hog cycle deck or the hog mini pekka deck which are unbeatable! Then there is a great guide on how to buy legendaries from the shop. If for some reason, however, you don't have the time to read that kind of guides, you can keep reading to learn how to hack Clash Royale with an apk mod tool and get free unlimited gems.

[valiumvallley]

How to Avoid League of Legends Tilt

Guides

How to Avoid League of Legends Tilt

Tilt impacts all of us – even the professionals – and it can do serious damage to your ELO if you play League of Legends under tilt. That’s why it’s important to avoid League of Legends tilt at all costs.

This blog post aims to answer three key questions regarding League of Legends tilt hopefully helping you avoid becoming tilted in the future. We’ll start with explaining what tilt is, then we’ll move onto the symptoms of tilt before finally looking at what you can to do avoid becoming the next toxic Riven main.

So, unlike Team Siren, let’s get started.

What is League of Legends Tilt?

We can’t learn how to avoid tilt if we don’t know what it is.

Tilt is a term which originally comes from gambling (specifically poker) where a player is playing badly because of unlucky draws and minor mistakes leading to frustration.

This mixture of frustration with a feeling of unjust leads to more poor decisions and larger mistakes which causes the player to go into tilt further.

When we want to apply this to League of Legends tilt it’s very similar. Imagine you are playing League of Legends and you feel it’s unfair because a mistake cost you the game which you had no control over. Maybe a team mate decided to AFK or someone unskilled on the enemy team is fed.

This leads to you getting angry and then you lose focus so you start to make your own game changing mistakes. We’ve summed up League of Legends tilt in an easy to read diagram. Each time you go around this circle the tilt will only get worse leading to more losses and a cycle that is hard to break.

Sounds Terrible – But am I on Tilt?

You can’t avoid League of Legends tilt if you don’t know what tilt is.

Don’t worry though – there are some easy to tell signs when you are going onto tilt. Here are some of the major warning signs you are about to enter into a League of Legends tilt.

You Could be on Tilt if you’re making Irrational Decisions

  When you play against a troll pick, like Blitzcrank mid, you’ll probably go into the game expecting to win. Unfortunately something happens and you’ll end up losing your lane, your sanity and end up on tilt.

You went into this match up expecting to win, I mean he is a Blitzcrank mid after all, and you can’t accept the crushing defeat he’s handed to you with his big robotic hands. Unfortunately after some nice grabs and a couple of jungle ganks later you’re currently 0/10 against this guy and your ready to run into the enemy tower constantly.

After a frustating game and a quick stop at the keyboard store you queue back up and all of a sudden you get a great idea.

What if I play Blitzcrank mid

If this situation feels familiar to you then you’re probably on a tilt (or some other substance like alcohol). Playing Blitzcrank mid is not a good idea and it won’t help you win – you just had a bad game. Accept this and move on. This situation isn’t just unique to champion picks either. The same can be said for poor dragon decisions or silly warding mistakes. If you played against a team that seriously focused the dragons and you lost hard it doesn’t mean you should only focus on the dragons in the next game. Keep your focus on the game, use tactics that work for your team and don’t make any irrational decisions based on previous experiences.

You’re Tilting if you’re Trolling or Flaming

  The cornerstone of a League of Legends tilt is flaming. You’re trying to play your lane but you start to feel the rage build up inside. Before you know it your hands move to your keyboard and you’ve insulted your teammates mother. It spirals out of control and after the innevitable all chat begging for reports the games over and you’re left staring at a defeat screen.

No rational or happy person is going to start telling their teammates how much they suck. If you start to flame your team after every mistake they make then you’re going to be adding to the problem, not solving it. Just focus on improving your own game and encourage your teammates.

The ‘feeder’ in the top lane doesn’t need any more hate (even if he’s playing Riven) – he probably feels bad enough already. By flaming the guy you’re only going to cause him to go into a League of Legends tilt too. He’ll then carry his negative attitude into his next game and probably flame again. Eventually the whole community ends up flaming faster than a fire in 1666 London.

Do everyone a favour and follow these two simple tips. If you feel yourself getting angry then:

1) Mute everyone in the game and focus on your own gameplay.

2) Make sure you don’t queue up again until you’re calm.

You’re on a League of Legends Tilt if you’re Expecting to Lose

How can you expect to win if you go into each game expecting to lose?

It’s never my fault, always rubbish teams.

This is the classic sign of a League of Legends tilt. If you feel like you’re going to lose and what’s the point then why bother queueing? Just stop playing until you feel more positive. You could go outside, Read a book, play another game or just log into a League of Legends smurf account and have a relaxing normal game.

By going into a game expecting to lose you’re going to make stupid mistakes and have a short temper. As soon as something bad happens in this game you’ll simply sigh and say: “Here we go again” and continue to play without a care in the world. While playing without caring can make the experience less stressful it’s not going to help you climb the ladder.

It’s not Skype… Typing more than Playing

League of Legends requires you to only use your left side of your keyboard.

  At no point should you feel the need to put your right hand onto your keyboard and start talking.

People on a League of Legends tilt tend to spend more time flaming and typing in chat then actually playing the game. If you can’t help yourself then you could mute all the other players and focus on yourself only. This way you can improve your own game. The fact is you’re not going to change someone elses playstyle so don’t bother trying.

If you’re really struggling you could remove all the keys from the right hand side of your keyboard – although we don’t actually reccomend you do this.

Focusing on others in Champion Select

Have you ever just come out of a bad game where your jungle picked an out of flavour (or even meta) champion and did nothing only to go into the next game and have a different guy pick the same champion?

While we admit it’s uncommon to see two Heimerdinger Jungles in a row, it can happen. The problem is you’re going to attribute your previous loss to the Heimerdinger and instantly assume that, since there’s another Heimerdinger, the end result will be the same.

You can either say; “Omfg We just had a Heimerdinger and he sucked. GG we lost.” or you could just think; “Hey this guy is playing the same champion as the other guy – maybe he can use him correctly”. Here’s a tip (and a spear behind it): The second one is a much better way of thinking.

If you are comparing your teammate’s champions to previous games then you are probably on League of Legends tilt and you should start to focus on your own game. Oh and in the unfortunate situation of having two Heimerdinger Jungles in a row: just dodge.

You’re going to lose less LP, not effect your MMR and save yourself 30 minutes. You can even use the 5 minute time out to exercise.

I’m on League of Legends tilt – What do I do?

  If you find yourself in the situation above then firstly: don’t worry. League of Legends has a tendancy to tilt most people and League of Legends tilt doesn’t mean you have anger issues.

Tilt affects everyone and you can only have a limited patience before competitive video games will eventually start to annoy you. Once you’ve accepted your tilt it’s time to take action. The quicker you take action the less damage the tilt will do to your MMR, mental state and keyboard.

If you are in a game and you start to experience tilt then you should put on your favourite song, mute your entire team, and focus on making improvements. Set yourself little goals like aiming to get 30 CS without dying or pushing a lane to get a tower.

If you find yourself on tilt after the game then you should not queue up for any more games. This will only cause you to go into a worse League of Legends tilt.

Ways to Beat League of Legends Tilt

If you want to stop tilting then here’s some of our top tips.

Play Another Game – Try a different game for a bit. League of Legends is a fast paced and stressful competitive game which leads to a harsh atmosphere and blood-thirsty community. Relax with a simple game like Minecraft or Bejeweled before queuing again.

Play with Friends – Everything is better with friends. Avoid arguments and the luck of the draw in the team raffle by playing with friends that won’t feed or troll. You’ll also be aware that tilting in front of your friends is going to damage your friendship and embarrass you.

Exercise – It’s a proven fact that physical exhaustion will increase your mental fitness. The release of endorphin also make you feel better and make you play better when you come back. Just let your heart rate settle first.

Watch YouTube or Twitch – You can relax on the internet by watching your favourite tuber or streamer. Just make sure that if they are playing League of Legends you focus on their own game and not their team.

Clean your Area – Cleaning can make you feel great (through exercise) and give you something to do to help you calm down. Coming back to a clean desk will make you feel ready to play and give you a fresh start.

Talk to a Friend – Whatever voice program you use (We personally love Discord) talking to a friend can calm you down. Tell them your terrible experiences and laugh together at the misfortune you’ve had. After a quick rofl you can return to the game with a smile on your face.

Sleep – Sleeping can help you de stress and avoid League of Legends tilt. Throughout education its recommended that you get a good nights sleep after a revision session to help solidify what you’ve previously learnt. When you’re trying to climb the League of Legends ladder a nap will help refresh you as well as cement your new knowledge.

Act on your Triggers – You should by now already know what triggers you. If it’s abuse or flaming then simply mute them without replying. If troll picks are more your tilt then simply dodge. Whatever triggers you – there’s always a sensible solution without going into a League of Legends tilt.

If you want any extra advice on how to stop tilting then here is a fantastic post by UnrankedSmurfs on what to do to stop League of Legends tilt.

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