#HIS ONLY GOAL IS TO DIE IN THE BATTLEFIELD. HE SHOWS NO MERCY TO ANYONE.

[masked-and-doomed]

POOKIE'S DEAD. :( CRODE.

They went and showed his whole backstory too like?!?! His whole point to live is to die in battle!?! FUCKKK WHAT THE HELL TIT.E KUBO WHY'D YOU HAVE TO GO SO HARD ON THIS UGLY SEXIST MOTHERFUCKER

.......can I even finish Bleach with him gone...... I'm much more devastated than I thought I'd be...... They went so hard on his death...... Like oh man you didn't have to rip my heart out......

[belit0]

Anonymous:

Hey can you do Indra with a partner who's equally power thirsty as he is? (s/o is already strong and absolutely a top)

Power couple goals!

Power couple goals for our King🧙‍♀️

After trying to kill each other countless times, Indra and [Y/N] finally understood that they could not erase each other’s existence. They are both highly powerful, and for every attack or defense that one presents, the other has an equally strong trump card up the sleeve.

Your life was relatively quiet until you came face to face with the deserter from the Ōtsutsuki clan, who with airs and graces of violence and revenge sought to increase his power at all costs. The problem is that you were looking for the same thing. Your story is different, you were not betrayed by your family, you were not turned away by your village, but the darkness hovers over your soul in the same way.

This is something that you notice in Indra from the first moment that you cross glances. How his only desire is to dominate, to destroy, to conquer, to impose himself. But this is a disadvantage in your plans, because in a world as broken as the one you both live in, there cannot be two rulers over the underdogs.

From your first meeting, you were both destined to try to kill each other. He underestimated you, believing that your power and intelligence would never compare to his, and it was at that moment that he condemned the encounter to an infinite draw.

The village you were in was big, with a largely developed self-sustaining system, a stable place to dominate and make your home, your empire. With determination, you knew that you would stay there, fight any villager or warrior who wanted to challenge your rules and build your much-desired kingdom.

And that’s what you’ve been doing for the past three months. You had found this place by pure chance while walking through the forest, looking for a location where you could rest and recharge your supplies to continue your journey. But just in the same way that you arrived as a terrifying stampede for the helpless village, so did Indra.

The people tried to fight against your orders, in fact, you annihilated almost the entire military unit that the village had. It was a struggle to be heard, you had to repress and punish them all over, but eventually, they dropped their rebellion, giving in to your inevitable command.

When things were going relatively well for you, a suspicious traveler appeared at the entrance to the village, and invaded the settlement carelessly. Killing villagers in the blink of an eye, the very same Indra Ōtsutsuki appeared in your home, attempting to steal everything that was yours.

Of course, you had heard the legends about this man. Myths run as fast as the shooting stars in the sky. But that did not mean that you believed the stories that reached your ears when you were traveling from place to place. If the tongues didn’t lie, this warrior wasn’t someone normal, but someone on your level. You were always smart and learned that underestimating your enemies was the fastest way to dig your own grave, so when Indra demanded to speak to the village leader, you waited and tested his patience.

“If you don’t bring the head of this wretched place here this instant, I will have to get rid of all of you, one by one… the choice is yours.”

Faced with the man’s threat, a desperate villager looked directly in your direction. Hiding among the sea of people watching Indra’s massacre, you listened to his speech. You prayed internally that this villager would not be so foolish as to give away your identity in front of your enemy, but of course, you could not expect much from people so inferior to you.

“[Y/N]-SAMA! PLEASE SAVE US PLEASE THIS MAN IS INSA- ”

Before he could speak any further, you pierced his right eye with a sharp Senbon, thrown towards your victim from a formidable distance. No one noticed the weapon that struck the villager, but of course, Indra was able to track and detect the movements, and when the villager fell dead in front of the crowd, he already had his eyes on you.

A long dark red cape covered you completely, from head to toe. Its hood covered your eyes, preventing your enemy from using his visual powers on you. That was the first thing you noticed when he burst into your village, confirming that the stories about him were real.

“What kind of leader is such a coward enough to hide among those who are the lowest followers… [Y/N]-Sama… I despise you; I should do you a favor and kill you here and now.”

“You should try, Ōtsutsuki Indra. I don’t guarantee your fate, anyway. Take the risk.”

That’s how the first fight between the two happened. It lasted an incalculable amount of time, occupying days, and nights of physical fatigue. The chakra exhaustion attacked the two of you at the same time, signaling the same level of accumulation. On the battlefield, where they had fought vigorously and relentlessly, they collapsed.

By the time you woke up, Indra was sitting next to you, and his intentions felt different. You were no longer detecting homicidal feelings towards you. The man was calm, relaxed in some way. His clothes were torn and dirty, and you assumed that yours were too. You were unable to move your body, as the pain spread mercilessly through all your limbs, so you just watched him.

If for some reason he decided to kill you at that very moment, there would be nothing you could do to prevent it. But instead, he simply stared at you when he heard your groans of bodily pain, and you gazed in confusion at his countenance. The man who fought you seemed to have vanished.

“Why didn’t you kill me? Keeping me alive and watching me die is quite cynical…”

“I have no intention of killing you, not yet. You have proven to be efficient, and you could work in my plans.”

“Your plans… Why would I be interested in participating in them? Just kill me.”

“I’m afraid I won’t do that. I’m proposing an alliance, if you don’t accept, I’ll leave you here on the floor, incapacitated and at your mercy. You know, someone said to me a few days ago ‘You should try Indra, I’m not assuring your luck, anyway. Take the risk’. I don’t assure your luck [Y/N], take the risk”.

“Shut up, you idiot, cocky, annoying, fucking asshole… Did you say days? Has it been days?”

“You know how to fight, but you don’t know how to calculate the time it takes to beat your opponent… too bad, you’re missing points. Are you in or not?”

“What exactly should I do…”

“Help me, to form my clan. Once you conceive my heirs, you are free. Until then, you are bound to comply.”

“You’re crazy to think I’ll help you with that.”

“Very well, then, I will set out again on my journey. It’s a shame about your dreadful village… we killed everyone with our fight and destroyed the land. Good luck surviving.”

“Wait! … Shit… I’ll go with you, but we’ll share the power equally.”

“You think you’re in a position to negotiate? How delusional.”

“Not at this moment, but when you want to impose yourself again, we’ll solve it by fighting.”

“You sound very confident… I accept, but when you have to surrender to me, don’t expect me not to enjoy the victory.”

"Be quiet and help me.”

Abruptly, he stood up as if nothing had happened, and lifted you off the ground with him. Quickly, you were positioned on his shoulder, just like a rag doll. The only thing you could focus on was the painful ways your body bounced with each step from Indra, who showed no compassion for your poor health.

That’s how the two of you started a complicated relationship, which, between fights and provocations, became something addictive that neither of you could give up. Suddenly years had passed since the first encounter, and your days were filled with challenges for power.

Neither of you wanted to give in to the other. You knew that Indra would not abandon you even if you continued to extend the time to conceive his heirs, you could feel it in his soul and see it in his eyes. The Ōtsutsuki had developed a strong attachment to you, love, I would dare to call it, and even if it took a lifetime to form your family, he would never change you for anyone.

So, in the meantime, both of you were playing a little game. Your routine was based on constantly provoking the other, pushing the other to the limit so that the situation would end in an inevitable fight to the death. The funny thing is that, as both maintained the same level of power, there was never a winner. Weeks could pass in a single confrontation, but no one was ever victorious over the other.

For years, the two would travel around the world. With no need to settle in one specific place, terrifying legends about the couple spread throughout the villages and towns, telling how the most powerful partners in history wandered the Earth, looking for power and control to feed on. Your days were joyous as you found a small village to destroy together, delighting in the screams of the villagers, making love over the blood of the murdered people.

Everyone began to fear your presence, escaping the sighting of [Y/N] and Indra, reincarnations of hellish beings.

At some point, Indra became somewhat impatient. Without warning, he began to show the need to find a place to build a real-life for both of you, where he could give birth to his family with you. Without any complaint, you accepted the request and decided that maybe it was time to listen to his desire.

A déjà vu hit you when you found yourself standing in front of the big door of a village, your man next to you, looking straight at the frightened people who were turning pale in front of you both. The satisfaction of power ran through your veins, and from the strong grip Indra held in your hand, you knew he felt the same way.

The Ōtsutsuki began to talk to the villagers, explaining what you both wanted from them, when you felt it necessary to interrupt him and continue with the task yourself.

“We are here to take control of this community. We don’t care who the ruler is, we are both the leaders now. Whoever opposes our supreme authority will perish on the spot. Inform your people of this, for we have come a long way and only wish to rest. When we deem it appropriate, we will announce the changes to come”.

In terror, the people who received you two at the door looked at the floor and nodded their heads. Without saying anything, they slipped inside, carrying out your errands.

One of them guided the two of you towards the main house, where there was privacy.

“I was in charge of the situation [Y/N].”

“Oh honey… I can’t help but think that since you want to start our family you have become a little more… Weak? Soft? I don’t know… I think I’m the only one who still wants to dominate everything around here…”

“It would be unwise to start a fight in the village we just occupied.”

“Are you chickening out? Where is my Indra and what did you do with him, stranger?”

“[Y/N]… you are really getting on my nerves…”

“I’m glad, darling.”

“You know what? If you want to fight so bad, fine, let’s do it. But this time, the rules are different.”

“Well, well, what do we have here? Indra-Sama wants a harder challenge… tell me, with weapons? Without Jutsus? Blindfolded?”

“No dear… I’m not talking about any physical fight you can imagine.”

“So…?”

“Whoever exhausts the other in bed first is the absolute leader of this filthy place. Until our clan rises above the unpleasant people who live here.”

“If I manage to dominate you during our entire fuck, will I be the supreme leader? No tricks, Ōtsutsuki.”

“No tricks, love.”

“Let’s get started.”

[soranis-sunshadow]

Why it’s not ok to compare Wrong Hordak to his defective brother.

It doesn’t sit right to me when someone pits two abuse victims against each other based on their coping mechanisms because their circumstances are never the same.

Wrong Hordak was immediately adopted by people who slowly de-indoctrinated him and offered him a supportive environment for all of that growth and healing to happen. When the BF squad kidnapped him, he was ardent about his service to Prime and he only followed them because they deceived him in believing they were servants of Prime.

By providing clear irrefutable evidence of Prime’s fallibility, deceit and the squad’s moral support throughout this moral crisis, they were able to wean him off of his programmed behavior and offer him a new onlook and an informed choice.

Hordak was a defective clone that was sent to die on the battlefield, in essence he was abandoned by his maker for being worthless and deflective. This is why his own disability is such a source of crippling shame and self-loathing, it made him unlovable in Prime’s eye, the person he was literally programmed to worship, love and blindly obey.

For all intents and purposes, Prime is the horde clones’ God. He appears to be all-powerful, omniscient, omnipresent and he is their literal creator. Through doctrine, clones are taught that all creatures are beneath Prime, only His light and His love is relevant. (Prime is that much of a narcissistic monster)

 Even while stranded on an alien planet, cut off from his Maker, it makes sense for him to prove his worth through the only means that he was ever taught (worship and conquest), perhaps, that way, he may repent for his failure of being created defective.

It makes sense for him, a brainwashed cultist, alone and stranded on a strange and hostile world to try and bring it into Prime’s light. He didn’t know that he could have been free of Prime if he chose to integrate with the natives. Every time he detected Light Hopes’s portals on the surface of the planet, he went to investigate, hoping Prime had come for him. That is how he found Adora after all.

Of course Hordak was brutal, brutality was all he had ever been shown. Of course he conquered in Prime’s name, that is why he was created. Of course he condoned the training of children to become soldiers once they reach maturity, that is how he was made after all, he didn’t know any better.

It's important to note that before Entrapta, Hordak is essentially a recluse. He hides away in his laboratory and he doesn’t directly interact with most of his underlings who avoid him. In many of his appearances he clings to the shadows or is only shown on a monitor. 

Instead of proving his worth to Prime, he seemingly fails at all of the (impossible) tasks he had set himself to accomplish in gaining his God’s favor: He doesn’t conquer the planet (it’s a whole damn planet), he can’t treat his defect (it’s gotten to the point that he’s an emaciated sickly wreck dealing with crippling chronic pain and is immobile without his prosthetic armor), his attempts at making a new body for himself have failed (he is defective, any clone made from his genetic code would also be defective) and he can’t even open a portal to go home (the planet’s magic does not allow an exit from the different dimension it is in). After decades of failure after failure, that he blames himself for, he has grown bitter and hopeless.

That is why Entrapta and her message is so important to him. She teaches Hordak that he has inherent worth as an individual. His imperfections do not mark him as something lesser, to be discarded, to her, he can be beautiful just the way he is. This is when he starts considering  to stall the portal project, a project that has been his purpose for years, and considers staying on Etheria with her. "There was even a time you wished I would not come for you." - Prime

When he is told by Catra that Entrapta "betrayed” him, he doesn’t want to believe it at first but his own self-loathing plays a huge part in why he buys the lie. He is after all a defective and worthless failure. Catra’s lie is so much more plausible than anyone ever finding worth in him. As such he comes to reason that another person he has dared to get attached to has abandoned him.

Whereas Catra believes that everyone leaves her, when really she pushes them away, Hordak genuinely has had everyone important in his life "leave" him, as far as he knows. This is why we see Hordak in his most evil during season 4 when he has the arm cannon and he is sacking Salineas. He's completely fueled by insecurity and loss, he has something to prove again, to Entrapta and to Prime. He was eager to face her and show her, on the battlefield, that he can be worth something (affection).

When Double Trouble reveals that Entrapta was sent to Beast Island, Hordak believed she is likely dead after so long. He thinks his gullibility has cost Entrapta her life, another failure to add to the long list of sins.

When he is teleported on Prime’s ship, he is terrified of him. He tries to appease Prime in whatever way possible. His body language, his meek, scared tone of voice, and the terrified expression on his face coupled with the fact that he is literally shaking in fear convey the fact that Hordak himself knows he will not be shown mercy. In order to adapt to Etheria and further his goals, he had committed unforgivable blasphemy, he had taken a name and shown initiative. Prime violates his mind and erases him.

It comes as no surprise that once his memories of Etheria resurface because of Catra’s presence, memories of abject failure, of loneliness, of grief and of betrayal, he submits himself to erasure once again. (in season 4 he had actually let Catra in, he trusted her, they had started a tenuous friendship that weirdly enough went both ways. She too was glad to see a “friendly face”)

Once he finds the crystal Entrapta gave him, he starts remembering her. Her memory is so dear to him that he actively tries to hold on to whatever fragments of her he can hold on. He even hides this from Prime (his only lie in the whole show).

In the final confrontation, while still linked to the hive mind and in the presence of his god, he chooses Entrapta, not because Prime was proven to be wrong or evil or fallible but because Entrapta found worth in Hordak despite his imperfections. He goes against his creator still believing that Prime is all-powerful, omniscient, omnipresent because he cared for Entrapta that much.

This is why Hordak's defiance against Horde Prime has so much impact, at least for me personally. Hordak is a character who never really got a choice up to this point. Arguably, it was less a decision and more of a last resort to protect Entrapta in whatever way he could. And even this choice was a zero sum equation. He either killed the one person that has ever shown him unconditional kindness or he turned against his God. It was a loss either way. The inescapability of Prime and the magnitude of his control over his clones is underlined by his possession of Hordak after he had declared his individuality and tried to kill him. In the deleted extended scene, Hordak himself is horrified at the fact that he had shot his Brother. His conditioning and indoctrination is still there. He never learned that Prime is a narcissistic monster and that he used his little brothers as chattel and had been consistently lied to.  He just wanted not to hurt Entrapta, this one choice is his first step towards individuality and freedom. This is the first time he actually exerts his own will and not Prime’s. He’s even making this obvious by saying "I am Hordak." I am someone, I exist.

I think Hordak is actually one of the best written characters in the show, and not because he's a sympathetic villain, but because he is very realistic to how a lot of children that experience neglect or other forms of parental abuse behave as they grow up. They only know anger and rage, never being shown love because they hide themselves in the shadows. Only when someone breaks down those walls can that person begin to heal.

Hordak and Wrong Hordak may be identical clones but their circumstances are anything but and it is wrong to pit them against each other. They are both victims of severe abuse. The comparison is not a fair one since one of them had all the means necessary to break conditioning while the other had all the circumstances necessary to enforce it. Despite what Hordak has done, he deserves to live and he deserves a chance to rebuild what he has destroyed in Prime’s name. Some of his victims may never forgive him, that is their choice. Nobody should have to forgive him. That is not how forgiveness works.  Etheria’s justice system is focused on rehabilitation, not on punitive vengeance.  Hordak too deserves a chance to heal after all that has been inflicted on him from the moment he was created. He deserves a chance at redemption.

I am open to more discussions on the subject if anyone is willing.

[secretlyatargaryen]

ASOIAF and A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s Court

I don’t know if anyone has talked about this, but I know that there’s been some discussion of GRRM being influenced (directly or indirectly) by Mark Twain and, specifically in his novel Fevre Dream, which certainly invokes Huck Finn. I’ve also seen a review of Tyrion’s ADWD journey described as “a drunken Huckleberry Finn.” Which is a flippant description that, on the surface, refers to Tyrion’s literal riverboat journey, but Tyrion’s narrative also carries with it a Twainian edge of satire, and his journey in ADWD is one that deals with classism, slavery, and exile in similar ways as Twain’s famous novel, while Tyrion, like Huck, also occupies a liminal space where he is positioned to understand issues of privilege and marginalization.

But I think a greater comparison could be made between one of Twain’s somewhat lesser known novels and also one of my favorites, A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s Court.

Most people know this story by its many screen adaptations, as a time-travel comedy, and it is, but it’s also, as is consistent with Twain, a witty, brilliant social satire. In Connecticut Yankee, Twain uses the backdrop of Arthurian England to brutally deconstruct social issues, and tackles classism, slavery, and chivalry in ways similar to GRRM. The first time I read about the Yankee I read it as an adventure story, then I read it in college for a dystopian lit class, and it was the only book on the reading list that isn’t technically dystopian literature, but the society it portrays, like the one in A Song of Ice and Fire, is definitely a feudal dystopia. I’m going to start with some surface level thematic similiarities.

On words:

Here’s Connecticut Yankee:

“Words are only painted fire, a look is the fire itself.”  

And ASOIAF (multiple times)

“Words are wind.”

On the human heart:

Connecticut Yankee:

“You can't reason with your heart; it has its own laws, and thumps about things which the intellect scorns.”

GRRM:

“The only thing worth writing about is the human heart in conflict with itself” (quoting William Faulkner)

On rulership:

Here’s where it gets meaty and where I think the two stories have the most in common.

Connecticut Yankee:

The fact is, the king was a good deal more than a king, he was a man; and when a man is a man, you can't knock it out of him.

and

Unlimited power is the ideal thing when it is in safe hands. The despotism of heaven is the one absolutely perfect government, and earthly despotism would be the absolute perfect earthly government if the conditions were the same; namely the despot the perfectest individual of the human race, and his lease of life perpetual; but as a perishable, perfect man must die and leave his despotism in the hands of an imperfect successor, an earthly despotism is not merely a bad form of government, it is the worst form that is possible.

ASOIAF frequently deconstructs the idealization of kings and queens, and the noble class is repeatedly portrayed as fallable and only human, sometimes to tragic ends. There’s an extended plotline in Connecticut Yankee where the Yankee and the King disguise themselves in order to live among the common folk and figure out how to build a better government, at one point ending up enslaved. GRRM also forces several of his noble-born characrters, especially the ones who are positioned to be rulers, to be confronted with the lives of the smallfolk, live among them (sometimes in disguise) or be confronted with the reality of slavery or even live as slaves themselves.

Connecticut Yankee again:

There was a slight noise from the direction of the dim corner where the ladder was. It was the king descending. I could see that he was bearing something in one arm, and assisting himself with the other. He came forward into the light; upon his breast lay a slender girl of fifteen. She was but half conscious; she was dying of smallpox. Here was heroism at its last and loftiest possibility, its utmost summit; this was challenging death in the open field unarmed, with all the odds against the challenger, no reward set upon the contest, and no admiring world in silks and cloth of gold to gaze and applaud; and yet the king’s bearing was as serenely brave as it had always been in those cheaper contests where knight meets knight in equal fight and clothed in protecting steel. He was great now; sublimely great. The rude statues of his ancestors in his palace should have an addition—I would see to that; and it would not be a mailed king killing a giant or a dragon, like the rest, it would be a king in commoner’s garb bearing death in his arms that a peasant mother might look her last upon her child and be comforted.

And that, my friends, is how you deconstruct feudalism, chivalry, classism, divine right of rulership and what makes a hero a hero.

Here’s Dany in ASOIAF:

“Go if you wish, ser. I will not detain you. I will not detain any of you.” Dany vaulted down from the horse. “I cannot heal them, but I can show them that their Mother cares.”

Jhogo sucked in his breath. “Khaleesi, no.”

The bell in his braid rang softly as he dismounted. “You must not get any closer. Do not let them touch you! Do not!”

Dany walked right past him. There was an old man on the ground a few feet away, moaning and staring up at the grey belly of the clouds. She knelt beside him, wrinkling her nose at the smell, and pushed back his dirty grey hair to feel his brow. “His flesh is on fire. I need water to bathe him. Seawater will serve. Marselen, will you fetch some for me? I need oil as well, for the pyre. Who will help me burn the dead?”

Contrast Dany and the King in disguise, doing something as simple as showing compassion to the sick and dying, behaving more like a hero than any knight on a battlefield, with the riot in King’s Landing where a mother presents her dead child as an indictment of the failings of the ruling class.

Halfway along the route, a wailing woman forced her way between two watchmen and ran out into the street in front of the king and his companions, holding the corpse of her dead baby above her head. It was blue and swollen, grotesque, but the real horror was the mother's eyes. Joffrey looked for a moment as if he meant to ride her down, but Sansa Stark leaned over and said something to him. The king fumbled in his purse, and flung the woman a silver stag. The coin bounced off the child and rolled away, under the legs of the gold cloaks and into the crowd, where a dozen men began to fight for it. The mother never once blinked. Her skinny arms were trembling from the dead weight of her son.

Sansa tries to influence Joffrey here, but of course she can’t make Joffrey show real compassion or truly understand the plight of the smallfolk. And even though Sansa is sympathetic to their plight, those who get abused by those in power don’t see her as any different than the sadistic ones, like Joffrey.

On heredity and inheriting the sins of the past:

Connecticut Yankee:

We speak of nature; it is folly; there is no such thing as nature; what we call by that misleading name is merely heredity and training. We have no thoughts of our own, no opinions of our own; they are transmitted to us, trained into us.

ASOIAF:

It all goes back and back, Tyrion thought, to our mothers and fathers and theirs before them. We are puppets dancing on the strings of those who came before us, and one day our own children will take up our strings and dance on in our steads. 

On knighthood:

A Connecticut Yankee:

“You see, he was going for the Holy Grail. The boys all took a flier at the Holy Grail now and then. It was a several years' cruise. They always put in the long absence snooping around, in the most conscientious way, though none of them had any idea where the Holy Grail really was, and I don't think any of them actually expected to find it, or would have known what to do with it if he had run across it.”

In Twain’s novel, the knights are mostly ridiculous, violent idiots obsessed with honor and pointless questing.

In ASOIAF:

"He likes the stories where the knights fight monsters."

“Sometimes the knights are the monsters.”

In Connecticut Yankee, there is an incredible subplot where the Yankee is convinced by a princess to go on a quest to slay a bunch of ogres who have supposedly captured princesses and held them in a castle. When they get there, it turns out that the “castle” is a pigsty, the “princesses” the pigs, and the “ogres” some poor swineherds.

I left Sandy kneeling there, corpse-faced but plucky and hopeful, and rode down to the pigsty, and struck up a trade with the swine-herds. I won their gratitude by buying out all the hogs at the lump sum of sixteen pennies, which was rather above latest quotations. I was just in time; for the Church, the lord of the manor, and the rest of the tax-gatherers would have been along next day and swept off pretty much all the stock, leaving the swine-herds very short of hogs and Sandy out of princesses. But now the tax people could be paid in cash, and there would be a stake left besides. One of the men had ten children; and he said that last year when a priest came and of his ten pigs took the fattest one for tithes, the wife burst out upon him, and offered him a child and said:

“Thou beast without bowels of mercy, why leave me my child, yet rob me of the wherewithal to feed it?”

This is satire at its most ridiculous and over-the-top, but it’s also a pretty searing deconstruction of the futility of chivalry, more obsessed with romantic notions of honor and fighting against imagined monsters than its supposed goal of protecting the weak.

A Connecticut Yankee ends in a failed attempt at revolution but with the possibility of hope for the modern world. Perhaps this is what GRRM is trying to tell us as well.

[jeanjauthor]

Death is a result of story, writers.

Death is a really powerful story-beat.

Give your other characters--and most importantly, your readers--a moment to absorb what just happened in that story.

It does not have to be at the moment of that death, however.

Famous example? Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring.

Specifically, when they have to leave Gandalf behind; the characters cannot stop to mourn.  They have to keep running.  It is only when they get all the way outside that they can take a few moments to absorb and reflect upon the impact of Gandalf’s actions, and having to leave immediately, with an unknown but most likely not super-short span of time passing before they finally get free and clear of immediate danger.

This is not to say that all such moments need to be put off!  If your characters have the time to realize what has happened, absorb it, react to it, internalize it, and realize they need to carry on to the next moment in the story, let them do so.

But even if they (and your readers) have to “wait a few pages first”...let them still have that moment to absorb that story-beat.

Because death and devastation are powerful things, and we need to show the humanity of our characters in reacting to it...and teach our readers it’s okay to care for these characters, and to mourn them.

Spoiler Cut for one of my book series:

The first series in my IaVerse (pronounced ee-yah-verse, not Lah-verse), Theirs Not To Reason Why, deals with this in a couple different places.

In A Soldier’s Duty, we see the main character, Ia, having to end the lives of not only raiders, but the life of a woman in their less than merciful/civilized grasp.  Not because she wants to, but because she has to preserve the future timeline that will save the most number of people possible.  It’s a case of “the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few” in a very brutal way.

I wrote in that scene that Ia wanted to take the time to mourn, to regret, but could not.  The clock was ticking for her.  specifically for her.  The reader got that pause in the way Ia, in her internal monologue, regretted not being able to pause.  No one else needed that pause, however.  Ia needed, but could not have it.  The reader needed it as well, and got a little glimpse of it.

In Hellfire, we see Sung firing his gunnery turrets against orders, and we go through Ia’s strong reaction, her utter shock as all her efforts to direct the future explode and shatter.  She cannot take the time to react to this shock, but she does anyway--and we see her backup pilot taking the helm to save the ship from a collision that should have been avoided, if Ia hadn’t gone into shock.

This is another beat wherein the reader gets to absorb what just happened, and realize that time is still progressing.  Pausing for a death isn’t always an option, not just for the point-of-view character (throughout that series, it was always Ia), but for the other characters as well.

Ia paused, swept up in the horror of realizing everything--including the deaths mentioned a couple paragraphs above--had just been rendered pointless and wasteful.  That pause almost got her ship & crew killed.  Though only Ia knew the full scope of the problem, felt the full breadth of terror that accompanied it, the other characters felt some concern, some consternation--and then had to go right back to work, because there was no way to stop the battle still surging around them.

(Btw, in real life situations, you don’t get to stop and drop to your knees on the battlefield, clutching at your slain mentor, your dying king, if the battle is still engaged.  Someone will come up to you to stab you while you’re preoccupied with your grief, if there are any enemies anywhere near you.).

At the end of Damnation...yeah, Ia told her crew that if they go on that last mission with her, the odds are extremely high they won’t be coming back.  But we learn about this days before the actual final scene.  And we get multiple moment, not just one or two or three, multiple story-beats to absorb the impact of that sacrifice.

The first one is when Ia demands to know if her chaplain wants to die, and her entire crew jumps to their feet, At Attention, to give her their unified, assertive reply.  We, the readers (hey, I’m a reader, too!), weep along with Ia when she reacts to that unified Sir, yes, sir!

We get an entire scene of Ia presenting Black Hearts to her crew--normally not given to anyone still alive--to shove in their faces just how deadly the upcoming battle will be, if they stubbornly stick with her to the end.  We even get a follow-up conversation between Ia and the Admiral-General about the presentation of those Black Hearts (given post-mortem to the family of soldiers who died in combat), to absorb that story-beat.

We also get two more moments:

We get the recorded speech of Young Ia, a day or two before entering the military in the first place, explaining that she knows she is going to have to kill to save the future, to fight in combat, to murder in secret, and to commit to the xenocidal destruction of the entire Salik race (with a token attempt to warn them and get them to change their minds, which she knows precognitively they will not do).  That speech is intermingled with scenes from the real-time combat taking place, of Harper telling Ia he tried to get Feyori help for that teeny-tiny-sliver-of-a-speck-of-a-chance that they might somehow survive, but could not, plus the subtext of how he (standing in for the whole of the crew) accepts their rapidly approaching fate.

And...we get that last epigraph, which also serves as the epilogue closing the story, and serves as the link tying the theme found in the very first eponymous book, A Soldier’s Duty, to every other book in the series, An Officer’s Duty (with its expanded corollaries), Hellfire, Hardship, and Damnation, because the theme of a soldier’s duty--and an officer is a soldier in the end--all the way through the hellfires, hardships, and final damnation of war.

With that last epigraph, a quote from her interviews, Ia clearly accepted her highly probable death a long, long time ago, and has just as clearly stayed at her post, kept to her watch, and faced down all her foes, physical and metaphorical...because doing so was her duty as a soldier.

...No, some might say that using that many story beats just to impact on the readers one (final) death scene miiiiight be a bit much...  But consider these thoughts instead:  it was a scene involving over a hundred and fifty brave souls, all of whom chose to participate in that story-beat.  It was a moment that included all the other deaths along the way.  It was a moment acknowledging that there are still deaths awaiting up ahead, via Ia’s prophecies, deaths that must happen if the greater good of the many is to be preserved in any way.

In my opinion...it isn’t the moment when the Damnation vanishes from existence, the actual moment of sacrifice, that has the most impact.  It’s the moment when that last line in the epigraph reminds everyone of just how important all such sacrifices are.  Not just the characters in that book, but of the sacrifices found in every story in every culture that every soldier, sailor, airman, marine, coast guard, fireman, EMT, etc, have ever made. All in the goal of saving the lives of not just the people they already know, but the people they may never know, and all the people they could ever, never know.

The impact of a great story is found in the absorption of its great moments.  Those great moments can be terrible, horrible, and even sublime-in-the-original-sense, as well as being silly, hopeful, or even blissful (such as the Happily Ever After of a romance story, as well as the belly laughs found throughout a comedic tale).  It’s in how we, as writers, connect our readers not only to the events, but to the emotions, reactions, and consequences of those events.

Find ways within the story’s context to give your readers those moments of absorption, reflection, and emotional connection to the actions and consequences of what all just happened.

[fel-over]

Combat Stats

★★★★☆☆☆☆☆☆  —  strength

★★★★★★★★★★ —  offense

★★★★★★☆☆☆☆  —  defense

★★★★★★★★★☆ —  speed

★★★★★★☆☆☆☆  —  durability

★★★★★☆☆☆☆☆  —   accuracy

★★★★★★★★☆☆  —  agility

★★★★★★★★★★  —  stamina

★★★★☆☆☆☆☆☆  —  teamwork

★★☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆ —  stealth  

★★★★☆☆☆☆☆☆ —  close combat        

★★★★☆☆☆☆☆☆ —  bladed weapons (swords, dagger/s)

★★★★★☆☆☆☆☆  —  blunt weapons (club/s, staff/s)  

★★☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆  —  ranged weapons ( archery, gun/s )

★★★★★★★★★★   —  superpowers/abilities

★★★★★★☆☆☆☆  —  traps/setups

★★★★☆☆☆☆☆☆  —  medic

~~ Overview ~~

Whether or not Lark plays the fool, it comes to light in combat that he is as daunting as the power he wields. By no means is he a stranger to shadow or fel; curses and charms. He simply prefers to manipulate the primal force of fire in most situations; often engulfing everything on the battlefield, even himself, in flame. 

The fire-starter makes it exceedingly difficult to close the gap between him and his enemies. He will use all he is capable of to keep it this way unless he desires otherwise. Throwing various sorts of destructive obstacles and trickery before them.

Adapting to his surroundings as he dodges attacks and sustains himself. Outlasting his opponents as they dwindle away is usually his goal. His blaze only intensifies the longer the battle goes on and he is not easily snuffed out.

Any lasting injuries from combat? 

Wear and tear is to be expected by his choice of career alone but any serious past injuries he did have do not seem to affect him now. There is the case of his prosthetic leg that he is obviously not shy about showing off and it could possibly be seen as a disadvantage. At least that is what he would want you to believe.

Bold what applies, italicize what sometimes applies

fights honorably | fights dirty | prefers close-quarters | prefers range | chats during | goes silent | low pain tolerance | high pain tolerance | attacks in bursts | attacks steadily | goes for the kill | aims to disarm | fights defensively | strikes first | is easily provoked | provokes their opponent | teases their opponent | gets visibly frustrated | shouts while attacking | uses strategy | focuses on their battle | experiences conflicting thoughts during battle | rushes in recklessly | tries to read their opponent before fighting | fights ruthlessly | fights calmly and/or apathetically | fights with anger | fights with excitement | fights because they have to | fights because they want to | fights without regard to wounds | runs away when wounded | hides wounds | takes a blow to protect another | prefers a blade | prefer a gun | prefers to use their ability | prefers a bow | prefers a shield | prefers a polearm | prefers a personalized weapon | prefers magic or spells | prefers brawling | their greatest weakness is physical | their greatest weakness is mental | their greatest weakness is emotional | transforms for battle | fights as they appear | relies on strength | relies on speed | uses everything they have | hides their full potential | exhausts quickly | high stamina | doubts their strength | proceeds with caution | behaves arrogantly | uses psychological tactics | uses brute strength | avoids civilians | strikes down civilians | damages surroundings | avoids damaging surroundings | signature fighting style | making it up as they go | mastered their skillset | still learning/inexperienced with their skillset | fancy footwork | sloppy footwork | messy fighter | elegant fighter | accepts defeat | refuses defeat | begs for mercy | compliments their opponent | insults their opponent | uses unnecessary moves, such as flips and twirls | moves efficiently | barely moves | prefers to dodge | prefers to block | defends their blindside | has no blindside | uses all available advantages, ie: uses magic but also throws punches, kicks out while blades clash, etc | strictly uses one primary method | plays around | holds back | shows mercy | waits for opponent to be ready | strikes when opponent isn’t ready | fears death | fears pain | fears killing | has PTSD | avoids fighting | has lost a fight | has won a fight | has killed | refuses to kill | wants to die standing | would succumb slowly

~~~

Tagged by: @unabashedrebel (Thank you!!)

Tagging: @jacobdcheshyre (anyone) @the-real-arcanist-val (anyone) @oh-yeah-no @sevensolar anyone else that wants to steal this!

[kotofvi]

no but srsly how is he not a gruff and angry person after everything?

Nonny Starling | OOC ;; 

Ah, you mean why isn’t he jaded and bitter like a war warn soldier who’d been through hell? 

He is. Shiro was volatile and angry during his time in the Arena. He was beyond control, thought only of getting out to save the others and to kill the ones who hurt him and the ones in there. He was a vat of rage that couldn’t be contained and took it out on the worst opponents during his time in the Arena. 

He lost sight of himself, of who he was, and he regretted being consumed by so much anger. Because it made him lose sight of himself and his goals to warn everyone else eventually. That doesn’t mean that he entirely escaped being jaded and bitter. Shirogane Takashi is perhaps one of the most jaded persons in the Paladins, he’s just better at hiding it. 

He’s better at gauging his reactions and timing when he shows that rage and anger. There is a reason he prefers not to fight where the others can see him. They’ve already come to terms with the fact that Shiro is holding back his anger because they see it on the battlefield. They see it when he tears sentries apart with his bare hands and when he viciously burns holes in the throats of those who attack him or his team. 

Shiro is not soft, but he is kind. His heart was not built for this, was not made for war when he was meant to be exploring the stars. He comes off as entirely too optimistic and sweet but the second anyone says or does anything that’s vaguely threatening to his team or anyone he cares for (not himself, because what more could happen to him that hasn’t already?)– that demeanor changes to something frightening. It’s quiet, it’s violent and the way he stares is cold as though he has absolutely no care whether or not you die in that singular instance. 

Where it changes is simple: He does care. He cares too much. He wants to protect everyone and he’s merciful. To him, the soldiers he squares up against are only doing what they’re told. The same as anyone else in war. Soldiers are just people who are doing what they think is right and following commands of the one in charge. War is never truly between the soldiers, it’s between the persons at the head of it, and Shiro understands that all too well. They’re trying to save the universes but he also wants to help the Galra if they want help. So he spares who he can and doesn’t do things unnecessarily. 

But that doesn’t mean his hatred is any less so for what’s happened to him and others. It’s just focalized to the persons who caused it. Aka, Haggar and Zarkon.

[ghostmartyr]

Eren and Reiner 17 and 14, based during the soon to come suprise attack on Paradis after the attack on Liberio, with Eren doing the confessing. IF still doing these, of course.

There’s a clarity in chaos. Throw punches. Dive this way. Break this arm. Rip through this neck. Simple, impulsive hits that make sense. There’s a fight. So fight.

Another explosion heats Eren’s neck, scrapes of dirt and brick shredding his face. He doesn’t feel it anymore. Even the man rushing towards him, changing his mind one more damn time in this fight, only brings back a spark.

The kid in Eren’s arms went quiet a while ago. Wide, traumatized eyes look at him like she wants a fight, but the last bite marks healed hours ago.

Sasha’s killer. Falco’s friend.

Reiner’s cousin.

The world’s a joke. Eren can’t remember laughing.

“Your cousin’s here to rescue you,” he says blandly, watching the dirt the Armored Titan kicks up. He never got to watch up close when he was a kid.

Reiner moves fast when he has a goal. He moves faster when that goal’s protecting someone.

That was a problem, in Liberio. Now, it makes Eren wish he could feel enough to cry. They’re in a battlefield full of lost fights. He planned for it. The plan’s not done, but he’s been for months. The only scrap of feeling he has left is in his arms, and coming to try to save the day.

Reiner slides into a mound of grass and sand, sending a rain of grime over Eren’s head, and reaching out a hand too massive to really help. Eren lumps the brat in one arm and leaves their hellhole at a run, tossing her up and taking a diving leap himself.

The hand, too warm, steaming already even though no one else has figured out what Reiner’s fighting for today, feels like safety. It closes over their heads, mud and sand and gravel only missing the brat’s because Eren forces her head down. Maybe he does know how to cry.

Reiner’s loud footsteps beat into the ground. Explosions sound off. More distant than they really are.

Gabi’s shaking.

Reiner’s cousin.

Eren hates battleships.

“Reiner doesn’t let people die,” Eren lies. It’s the lie Reiner wants to be real, and it’s what he’s trying to turn the tides with. He’s told worse.

The girl’s voice is wrung out from pain. She even sounds like Reiner. “I’m not afraid to die, d-demon!”

She’s lying, too. One big happy family of liars. “Good.”

She’s quiet again, after that, and Eren prefers it. He counts the lines on Reiner’s fingers. The smallest one is still too large for his hands to hold. He doesn’t know what the point would be, anyway.

It’s lifting them. It’s hard to tell in between the harsh jerks that have Eren grabbing his stowaway more than she wants, but Reiner’s hand is lifting them up.

Another conversation.

Or he just wants to make sure that his cousin’s alive. The disappointment is crushing, but compared to what comes next, it’s only one more bump. Reiner’s sentimental. He’ll want to see Gabi’s face with his eyes. He can’t do that without showing his to Eren’s.

Sure enough, the roof of hand opens up, and they’re deposited safely on Reiner’s shoulder. The distant thuds could be thunder. Familiar trees stand in front of them, and the Armored Titan comes to a halt.

Steam rises from his neck, and Eren stays sitting instead of lurching forward.

The cousin doesn’t have that problem. She runs the way she hasn’t since leaving her cell, and with a rip of flesh and red mist sprouting from the steam, the face of her true savior emerges.

Reiner.

Eren could run at him too.

The lines in his face are hard and panicked, but they soften when he sees his little cousin. Pain and gentleness comes off him in waves as his freed hand grabs Gabi in a secure lock.

Eren might as well not exist.

That’s fine.

That’s how it’s supposed to be.

That’s how it will be, in the end.

But it’s not over yet, and his chest aches with the rest of him.

Cousin delivered. His one extra job done. Delaying the inevitable now will only make the damage harder to repair. It’s time to walk away from Reiner, and his small glow of happiness.

He should turn around and transform. He doesn’t have a passenger to worry about anymore. Zeke’s waiting.

Reiner looks up from Gabi and finds Eren, still sitting on his shoulder.

The gentleness leaves, and Reiner the soldier boy, the Reiner Eren the soldier boy watched, wanting to be and then just wanting, stares at him. Anger is too weak for what’s left between them. Nothing else feels right.

His hand did, but that’s something Eren needs to forget.

Reiner can’t want to put words to it all more than Eren does, but Eren isn’t moving, and Reiner asks. Holding Gabi and looking lost. “Why?”

Eren’s fingers run over his palms, counting the lines they share with Reiner. “Everyone’s asking that today,” he says. “It hasn’t gotten them anywhere, either.”

Reiner doesn’t look confused. He looks tired. The same tired Eren feels in his soul, that Eren exploited so he could have an excuse not to kill Reiner even while he killed everyone else.

“Eren,” Reiner says, outlined by steam and giant trees, trees Eren sat in when he put words to how much he hated the boy standing in front of him, hated his face, hated his values, and just hated.

Because the one thing he never thought he’d feel over Reiner was hate. He was perfect. The perfect soldier. He stood over all the rest of him with a confidence that let Eren think they could win. Picking Eren up off the dirt with a smile, telling him he could do anything.

All while he was the bad guy.

Eren’s the bad guy now.

Feelings leak out the way they haven’t since his explosion at Hange. Reiner helping Armin. Reiner pulling him off Jean, laughing that deep laugh that made Eren’s ears still the rest of him. Reiner complimenting his fighting skills. Reiner’s hand going through his hair for a pat while Eren stood there wanting to grab it.

Reiner, crying about being a stupid kid.

Reiner, begging Eren to kill him.

Reiner, taking Eren’s hand one last time.

Emotion that makes all of this harder when it started at impossible. Like the angry brat who thought everything was just that simple, Eren turns around and shouts it to the trees.

“Because I love you!”

His hand goes up to his mouth, ready to bite even while the words keep falling out. Ready for the salt burning in his eyes to evaporate. “I’ll always love you,” he says, wishing for hate.

He turns slightly, not looking, but not ignoring Reiner either. “And if you care about that brat as much as you think you do, you’d better start running.”

His teeth clamp down, and there’s a good chance the last thing Eren’s human eyes ever see will be the Armored Titan’s hand, dropped down to his side.

Too shocked to stop Eren.

The only mercy Eren has left to offer anyone he loves.

[shewantedtobeasecretgirl]

6. This means war a. k. a. a butcher knife, an interrogation and a battlefield (Part Two)

“Okay, guys don’t forget the rules!” Eric turns back to us entering the bar. “No nudity!” he takes a meaningful look at Mike who glances around whistling and pretends not to understand what Eric refers to.

“What?” Judy whispers with a terrified expression.

“Haha, I’ll explain it later.” I lean to her ears and the smell of her hair makes me feel dizzy immediately.

“And Stone, please don’t talk to strangers otherwise we all die here…”

“Seriously, why? I think I’m cool. Mankind isn’t intellectually developed enough to understand my humor…”

“Oh yeah, maybe after the extinction of human species you’ll be able to make a career as a stand-up comedian…” Judy remarks cracking me and the other members of the company around her up.

“What? What’s so funny?” Stone inquires impatiently. He’s obviously not used to the role of the target; usually it is him who makes fun of the others.

“Nothing. I was just worrying about the future of mankind.” Judy deadpans causing more cackle around her and a perceptible blush on Stone’s cheeks.

I head straight for the pool tables with Stone and Dave while Mike and our roads choose to explore the pinball machines. Eddie, Beth and Karrie decide to order our drinks at the counter and the only one left at the door is Judy. She’s turning her head helplessly hesitating who to join.

“Hey Judy, do you want to play?” I call her pointing at her with the pool cue.

“I… I can’t play, I’ve only tried two or three times in my life and I always sucked…” she explains making a few insecure steps in our direction.

“Then we shouldn’t force her. So let’s play!” Stone grabs the other cue with a quick move and turns his back on her.

“But if she played we could form two teams and play against each other. Judy, it is high time you practiced!” Dave argues.

“I like the idea. Judy, you’re with me, I’ll explain the rules to you and help with the moves.” I volunteer to have an excuse for staying next to her as long as possible.

“The main goal of the game is to hit the white ball into any of the holes…” Stone grins in front of himself while chalking the tip of his cue stick. I should have known that… he won’t leave her alone until he manages to rile her up.

“Oh, yeah, thanks for considering me a stupid caveman but I have some faint ideas about the rules...“ she rolls her eyes and folds her arms. I’ve already observed this defensive reaction of hers; feeling danger she immediately pulls back into her shell. I have to work against that because it doesn’t fit my plan.

“Birds of a feather flock together…” Stone mutters. What a douche… Judy can’t know that calling me a caveman is Stone’s favorite habit to emphasize his assumed intellectual superiority to me. Or to anyone else.

“Okay, Judy, the first turn is yours…” I rather focus on my project handing her the stick. And I have to admit she was right about her abilities… She hits the white ball only for the third attempt and due to her effortless strike it misses every other one in its surrounding.

“That’ll be a looong game… If I had known that I would have brought dry food and fluids enough for three days. And a sleeping bag.” Stone comments Judy’s performance, which probably doesn’t help her collecting some confidence for the next round but I see a strange fire in her look, this time she doesn’t seem to be bothered by Stone’s usual show.

“Stone, if you shut up at least for a few seconds you could notice that I’m ensuring our winning position…“ Dave warns him and targets the plain blue ball.

“I support you spiritually, can you feel my mental power radiating on you?” Stone smirks.

“Yes, unfortunately I can…” Dave rights himself after his first fault.

“I knew you would be good together.” I take the cue from Judy and lean on the table. Fuck, my hands are sweating; I chose the wrong game… “Ah, shit.” My hand slips so Stone gets a chance to support their team in a physical way too. He plays well, I must admit, he’s maybe the best player of us. It’s forgivable since in exchange for that he’s the clumsiest at any other sports.

“Look, Judith, this is how big boys do it…” Stone winks at her between two hits. I don’t like that wink. I want to be the only one who’s entitled to wink at her. Judy watches him playing with a disappointed grimace and I use the occasion to throw one arm around her shoulder and stroke her upper arm to comfort her. To my biggest surprise in the next moment Stone doesn’t manage to strike the ball, which I don’t really understand as he wasn’t disturbed by anyone or anything… But who cares, at least we have one more chance to win. Judy prepares for her round awkwardly measuring the angles and distances and I can’t help taking advantage of the situation.

“Okay, Judy, I think you should focus on that one, over there…” I lean close to her and carefully direct her arm in the right direction. Can I feel goosebumps on her skin? Yes, hell, she…

Stone interrupts my silent joy with a loud yawn checking theatrically his wristwatch. Judy reacts with a start moving away from the direction in which I positioned her and hits the white ball in the corner hole opposite us. I slap myself mentally for forgetting about her extremely wide personal space… In the meantime Dave finishes the game with a few perfect hits; he digs into his pocket for his cigarette and high-fives with Stone using his other hand.

“May I?” Stone points at the package. To Dave’s nodding he helps himself and sticks the cigarette into his mouth.

“Does he smoke?” Judy asks half-whispering leaning closer to my ears with a disgusted and almost disappointed frown. I can’t figure out why she’s so surprised at Stone’s smoking habits but I don’t really care since I don’t smoke, maybe that can be a pro if smoking is a turnoff for her…

“Not really… only occasionally… you know… when he’s nervous or stressed out or when he has problems… or when he just wants to play the cool guy.”

“I don’t understand.” Judy furrows her eyebrows.

“You know, he’s a social and stress smoker, he just shows off with it.” I explain but I doubt this whole topic deserves so much explanation.

“That’s what I don’t understand. You said he smoked occasionally… but based on everything you’ve just listed he should be a chainsmoker, huh?” she grins at me and in the next second we both giggle and I really enjoy the fact that neither Dave and Stone nor the others arriving back from the counter know why we’re choking. She has been so much more outgoing and talkative today, she talked at the party more than in the last three days in all and I can only hope it has something to do with me too. And I really like that change in her behavior and maybe that’s a sign… I mean… I have nothing to lose… yes, I’m going to make the first step. Hell, I’m going to do that.

***

“So that’s all what you have to know about Mike’s nudist tendencies.” Jeff finishes the story about Mike’s disastrous striptease in Rotterdam and at a few afterparties.

“Uh, it’s a lucky coincidence that I’ve just finished my beer. My brain cells responsible for visual imagination are screaming for mercy, I don’t know how they would react without some alcohol.” I rub my forehead. I can already feel the mild dizziness which usually strikes after having had my second beer, I should slow down before I start talking bullshit… I must be grinning like an idiot… I don’t want to end up in sleeping on his shoulder; he would probably misunderstand my habit of using anyone next to me as a pillow at the peak of my tipsiness. It’s quite awkward but at least falling asleep prevents me from getting totally wasted which has never happened to me, anyway… Although I wish it had happened, maybe it would have helped in certain situations.

We’re sitting in a box with Karrie, Dave is playing a next pool game with Mike against Brett and Scully while Smitty and Eric are analyzing their performance impersonating television commenters. I don’t know where Eddie, Beth and our fuckin’ joker are hiding but at least I have some rest, I’ve heard enough of his asshole remarks this evening. Despite having smoked weed he doesn’t really seem to be high, maybe he snickers more often at his own jokes than usual although it’s something that’s hard to escalate.

“Hey, Judy Camden!” I hear Eddie calling me in his irresistible voice the second time this evening. I turn my head around and glance them finally at a foosball table in the corner. Foosball… I have a soft spot for it, although the last time I played was ages ago. “Judy Camden! We need one more player so would you move your aaaaaah… ahem, Beth there’s no need to kick me to death, so Judy, would you move your… graceful legs?”

Foosball… but spending more time with that cretin than inevitably necessary? Foosball… that insufferable, caustic piece of garbage… Foosball… Foosball… Foosball… Maybe I could show what I can…

“I’m coming!” I chirp and try to moderate myself not to run to them. On arriving I notice that Eddie and Beth are standing next to each other on the same side of the table and the vacant position is the one beside Stone.

“I want to be with Beth.” I decline dipping my hands in my pockets.

“A girls versus boys match? Uh… Are you sure?” Eddie furrows his eyebrows with that typical, curious expression including those heart-shaped lips, shit, could you just stop, Edward?

“I’m just saying: playing against me equals instant and humiliating defeat.” Stone rubs his hands against each other and starts to spin the sticks in front of him back and forth as warm-up.

“Same for me playing with you. Or do you think that being busy with crafting ideas how to cut the throat of your teammate is a safe winning strategy?” I ask still waiting for Ed leaving Beth’s side.

“That makes sense…” Stone admits scratching his chin.

“What’s more, these two have been together for eight…”

“Nine…” they correct me simultaneously.

“…nine years, separating them would only increase our chances.” I throw in my final argument.

“You mean my chances.” Stone corrects me.

“Stone, you shouldn’t be overconfident, you haven’t…”

“Come on, Ed, I’ve seen her playing pool. And foosball tables don’t belong to the usual equipment of convents, I guess…”

I decide not to answer and luckily neither Beth nor Eddie wants to react to his umpteenth, farfetched joke about my assumed relation to the Catholic Church.

“Let’s play finally, girlpower, woohoo!” Beth screams and pushes Eddie away with her hip signaling he should join the opposite team. Judging from her behavior she’s already quite far from soberness and probably she won’t be the most cooperative and useful teammate of all times but if I manage to follow my plan that won’t be a huge problem.

As all of us take our places Beth drops the ball on the table. It lands right at my midfield row so it takes me only one move to shot it right in the goal of the opposite team before Stone and his goalkeeper foosman could realize we’re already playing.

“Eheh… beginners’ luck… I’m a foosball virgin.” I snicker putting accent on the last word and pull the plastic cube towards me, signaling our first score.

“What was that pathetic, fake throw-in? Beth, at least try to pretend not to be cheating…” Stone complains.

It’s Eddie’s turn to throw the ball onto the table. Beth’s foosman passes the ball to mine and I dribble it a few times back and forth between my rows before shooting it into the hole right next to the paralyzed goalkeeper of Stone. Beth and I high-five while Stone is checking his sticks; obviously he can’t believe that everything works fine apart from his reflexes.

“Okay, Ed, get your shit together before it’s too late!” he commands to the perplexed Eddie.

“What the fuck are you talking about? The ball hasn’t even got to my side…”

“That’s exactly the problem, Ed.”

“And whose fault is that, smartass?”

Failure generated internal conflict. Perfect… Due to my turn at throw-in I can only use my left hand, which makes me lose the ball; encouraged by his sudden chance Stone tries to perform some tricks with it but being overly excited he manages to spin his defense row in the wrong direction hitting the ball. Own goal. Instant and humiliating defeat for whom? Beth and I burst out in a loud scream.

“Three-zero. I’ve got my shit together, what about yours?” Ed asks reproachfully but his voice is barely to hear over our cheering. It’s so much easier than I thought.

“What’s the matter? I can only hear that these two women are fuckin’ loud.” Mike cranes his neck behind me to see the result.

“Nothing particular, Judy is just wiping the floor with us.” Eddie tries to answer and defend their goal from Beth’s attack at the same time.

“And what about me?” Beth asks feistily and shots goal in the moment she utters “me”.

“Nice shot, teammate!” I exclaim and reach out my arm to high-five with her again.

“Time-out, I have to fix my hair.” Stone declares forming a “T” letter with his hands.

“Oh, hair crisis? ‘Course, I totally understand it, that’s the worst.” I pretend sympathy and Beth chokes on her beer, probably of mere sympathy as well.

He tears the scrunchie out of his half-ponytail with a nervous move and holds it between his lips while putting his hair up in the same style again. I have to admit he’s quite fortunate as for his hair, thick, dark brown, with hints of natural curls…

“But Stone, now you look exactly the same as before…” Mike remarks innocently but seeing Stone’s cold gaze his voice gets more and more silent and he finishes the sentence basically only mouthing.

“Good look restored?” I ask with an amused smile but somehow Stone doesn’t seem to appreciate my attentiveness.

“Too much talk.” he throws in the ball.

“Are you sure you don’t need more time? I would tolerate it, after all, we shot four goals whereas you…” I try to chat while our foosmen are battling for the ball.

„Come on then.”

„What?”

„Have at you!” Wait, the Black Knight?

„You are indeed brave, Sir knight, but the fight is mine.” I cite the next sentence of the classic scene of Monty Python’s Holy Grail to check if my guess was right.

„Oh, had enough, eh?” Bingo, the Black Knight. Spinal Tap a few days ago, now this… At least the guy has a taste as for comedies.

„Look, you stupid bastard, you've got no arms left.” I go on catching the ball. This time I decide to torture him longer before the next strike; I spin the stick slowly and carefully to lift the ball balancing it on one of my foosmen.

“If you hit the goal I’m going to dress up as Liberace at Halloween, I swear…” Mike mutters.

“You can start searching for accessories, Mike.” I wink at him and spin on the stick a bit to reach the perfect angle; after finding it I drop the ball with a quick move over Stone’s defender foosmen right into the goal.

“That can’t be true.” he lets the sticks go with an effortless moan and reaches for his beer mechanically, not even glancing at the glass.

“This is my best birthday ever!” Mike punches in the air. “Hey, guys, you won’t believe what happened…” I hear him yelling excitedly as he runs back to the pool table.

“Uhm… do you want to continue defeating me instantly, in a humiliating way or can we finish the match at this point?” I flash a dark grin at my perished opponent.

“We can finish… or… whatever…” His look is definitely darker than my grin; he doesn’t even say a word to Eddie before leaving for the boxes.

“He’s pouting, but don’t worry, it won’t last long. Actually, I didn’t know either he could be so… uhm… competitive…” Eddie explains while we’re following Stone.

“But maybe he finallllly ack… acknow…ledges your abbbilllities…” Beth adds hiccupping.

As we reach the box I slip onto the seat taking place opposite Stone who blatantly avoids any form of communication with us. Beth drops herself next to me and grabs immediately the drink menu.

“Look Eddie, they have cock…tails… haha, get it, I invented a new joke… cock tail-cocktail! Oh… If I had known that… I want a cocktail…”

“Babe, you shouldn’t… you’ve drunken enough today…” Ed strokes her hair tucking a few unruly strands with gentles moves behind her ear . Lucky girl…

“Just one cocktail…”she nuzzles to his stomach.

“Beth…”

“Please…”

“Okay then... But only one cocktail, I choose and if you look sick I’m going to drink it.” he sighs glancing at the ceiling.

“I wanna drink something with llllime… lllime isss sooo good…” she clings to Eddie and they start walking slowly towards the counter. What? Eddie… hey Eddie… you can’t leave me here with this unbearable, cocky, assertive bastard… Eddie… please turn back… I don’t want to act desperate and flee from him but I don’t have any clue how I could spend these impossibly long minutes in his company either … long minutes because time seems to slow down, so much time has passed since they left but they haven’t even reached the counter… And I got stuck here… Yes I'm stuck in the middle with you and I'm wondering what it is I should do… Fuckin’ earworm… Great…

***

“Hi guys!” I plop down next to Judy.

“Hi!” Judy sighs.

“Hmmk…” Stone mumbles, I can only guess it’s his brand new welcome ritual since he keeps his look on his beer glass. I steel a glance at Judy to see she’s studying the menu intensely and then I peep back at Stone who still seems to be totally lost in his beer tag.

“Oh, that’s a good one, I myself have read it multiple times too…” I joke trying to ease the tense, pointing and nodding at the glass since the silence starts getting uncomfortable.

“Oh, I can imagine, you have a whole fucking library at home…” Stone remarks bored and I hear a quiet sneeze or snicker from the direction of Judy, I can’t decide which one and if it was a snicker I can’t decide either which of us made her laugh. They both fall silent again and their eyes keep demonstratively avoiding each other.

“Seriously, what’s up, chatterboxes?” I make a second attempt to start a conversation but the spleenish vibe around them makes me feel like a bull in a china shop.

“Actually, we tried to chat, y’know, but we gave it up, we couldn’t help cutting each other off.” Judy shrugs still gazing the menu and as I peer at Stone again I would swear I catch a little twitch on the corner of his mouth, maybe a smile? I’ll never figure it out since it disappears in a blink.

“How come you haven’t mentioned until now what a great foosball player you are?” I keep talking to avert the awkward silence; they’re still not willing to acknowledge each other’s presence.

“It’s Cheap Trick’s fault.” Judy remarks shrugging casually again.

“Cheap Trick? I love them and I’m convinced they’re omnipotent but what do they have to do with your foosball talent?”

“My sister… Effie… she loves them too. But they didn’t really come to our area and Effie was dying to see them live...”

“I can totally relate to her, I spent my teenage years completely Cheap Trickless too…” I nod agreeing.

“When she was fourteen or fifteen she decided to follow them wherever they play and they were playing in Wisconsin, y’know, basically at the other end of the country. One day she stormed into my room in tears, claiming Mom and Dad didn’t allow her the journey even with me. Because I have to mention she dragged my name into the discussion without asking me, as always…”

“Poor girl…” I shake my head.

“The poor girl was weeping to me for days before cautiously dosing me the idea of running away for a few days to see them. She planned everything, she wanted to use Karrie as an alibi telling we travel to visit her in her home in Sacramento.” she explains.

“And did you really sneak out? Did you attend the Cheap Trick gig?” I interrogate her excitedly.

“We did. I mean, we did follow them, we did see Cheap Trick and they were awesome…” she confirms but it’s obvious that there must be a twist in the story.

“…but? I can feel there was a “but” in that constellation.”

“But by the time we got back home our parents had already been out of their mind…”

“Ouch. Did they find it out?”

“Yes. Since poor Karrie called them and asked them about us innocently…”

“Nooo… did she forget…?” I gasp shocked.

“Hahaha, no, she’s one of the best allies in the world. She didn’t even know about her being our alibi. Effie was so busy with the execution of her plan that she forgot to inform the involved people…”

“I would lie if I said that has never happened to me…” I wrinkle my nose. “That was some story but I still don’t know the reason of your exceptional foosball skills.” I drum with my fingers on the table.

“After the case we got sentenced to a two week-long house arrest and household chore session. I mean not for running away to the show but for not being honest to our parents. I didn’t really care about the punishment since going nowhere and enjoying my own company was my favorite spare time activity at that time but Effie was inconsolable. Our main task was to clean up the cellar, to sort our old stuffs for the next garage sale, you know, all those usual things. But on the very first day we found Dad’s old foosball table of which existence we hadn’t even known. You can imagine how efficiently we worked after that discovery…”

“So I assume you didn’t manage to clean up the cellar but became professional foosball players…”

“Sort of. But do you know what’s the funniest in the story?” She goes on seeing that I shake my head. “Effie didn’t even ask our parents if they’d let us travel to Wisconsin. Effie just decided they wouldn’t allow it anyway; and probably she also wanted to get into an exciting adventure she could tell later to her grandchildren in the rest of her life…” she sums up fidgeting with the ashtray.

“I can only repeat, I agree with her… I mean… we only live once, life is short, carpe diem and imagine here at least three further clichés about living for the moment, but they make sense, if you hesitate too much one day you’ll realize life ran past you.”

“Oh, philosophical moments with ‘Cready? The spiritual side of the lead guitarist?” she giggles.

“The ironical side of the future monitor engineer?” I fire back. “But it was a good story, thanks for sharing it, I’d be glad if I could met your sister one day, as you described her she seems like a very interesting personality…”

“You know what’s interesting, Mike?” Stone suddenly joins the conversation with a rhetoric question and something in his voice tells me that the peaceful part of this chat is over. “That there are people who haven’t even heard about modesty and make the others around them admire their abilities even if they are totally average after all.” he goes on. I knew he was up to something, Stone never listens to anyone speechless for so long time without any specific reason.

“Mike, have I mentioned to you which personality type I hate the most?” Judy turns with an inquiring expression to me. “I think of those people who criticize the others all the time but don’t even realize they’re actually talking about themselves. Wait, no, I hate more those stuck-up poseurs who are always showing off displaying their actual or imagined skills but in the moment someone is better than them they start pouting like a three-year-old and don’t even try to bear their fiasco with dignity!” I duck my head as if their words could physically hit me. Oh man, that’s tough. My grandpa used to tell me stories about his experiences at the European front line during World War II but I never listened to him properly. I should have done so because I feel as if I was standing in the middle of a battlefield and grenades and cannon balls were whizzing around me.

“And what about those people who use their family ties to achieve something and then play the innocent lamb when someone confronts them with the truth?” Stone keeps firing but he’s still looking at me as if he was addressing me with his pretended question.

“Imagine, Mike, there are even fuckin’ psychos who attack other people in their beds and talk shit about them behind their back!” Judy is already yelling and beats against the table with her fist while saying “back”.

“You see, Mike, the chick talks to stuffed animals and licks knives but I’m the psycho, excellent, congrats…” Stone claps his hands mockingly a few times.

“That’s enough, I’m not willing to listen to this bullshit any longer!” Judy fumes and basically kicks me out of the seat to get a free way. But Stone is faster, by the time she reaches the corner of the box he slips out with a quick move and jumps in front of her making her start back. The guy has a sense of dramaturgy; the picture of the tiny Judy gasping furiously with clenched fists and his smirking down at her taking advantage of his lanky figure reminds me of those cartoon scenes where the amused Tom is torturing the raging Jerry a bit before throwing him onto a pan.

“You know what, Stone? Let’s clear a few things, okay? A: I’m not catholic, I’m not even baptized. B: The vocational school of substitute music teachers I attended was actually Juilliard, for your information. And C: for two years, two months and fourteen days I haven’t been daddy’s little girl anymore, however much I want to be. Do you want to insult me? Fine. But please do me a favor and at least try to do the job properly by getting to know me at first because your random attempts are nothing but pathetic.” she spits scornfully and leaves declaring the debate is over. Stone doesn’t turn after her, only his smug grin grows a little bit wider.

“Challenge accepted.” he clicks satisfied with his tongue.

[divine-identite]

                                                         xxviii. 

Name: Caius Ballad Age: Unknown appears to be in his late 20's to early 30's. Gender: Male Canon: Final Fantasy XIII Canon Point: Post-canon Lightning Returns History: Oblivion is the fate of all things. Personality: Immortal and stalwart with a high sense of honour and integrity, Caius is charged with the duties of Guardian to the Seeress Paddra-Nsu Yeul. He is driven completely to protecting her through her short life and rebirth. He is strong, steady, patient and stoic though he is also seen in private as attentive, caring and willing to do anything in his power to keep Yeul happy and safe while she lives. He takes his task as Guardian very seriously at the risk of his own personal safety which he exhibits numerous times. He had, at one time, gave his life to protect Yeul by doing the one thing that is considered taboo among l'Cie and that was by fusing with his Eidolon, Bahamut, through an act known as an incarnate summoning.

                 His love for Yeul runs deep and it's a long lived sort of caring that spans the course of time. He is seen more as a father to Yeul in some ways where he not only protects her, he also retells the prophecies from all the other Yeuls that he has watched over the centuries. He serves as a living record for Yeul and through these memories also leads to madness due to his immorality granted when he inherited the Heart of Etro which bestows him the powers to control Chaos. Unable to die, Caius stands as Yeul's eternal Guardian. He is not only powerful, but he is also intimidating with a merciless method of enacting his strikes with precision and force. He presents himself as cold, distant and cruel yet he is patient and willing to wait for the right time to strike. 

              On the other end of this chaotic spectrum, when it comes to Yeul, he knows her emotions through subtle hints that she gives either through her eyes, subtle changes in her speech and through her body language. Caius searches for each Yeul after she is reborn. By the time she speaks her first word, Caius is charged with taking her from her birth family to raise her as Seeress. He teaches her how to interpret her powers and learns about her new incarnation through her body language and speech pattern.               It is this subtle way they know each other that words do not need to be spoken harshly or with demand for him to listen. This can also be said for the people he comes in contact with should they speak to him in this way though he won't be able to pick up on the cues until he knows them better, or rather if he wants to get to know them at all. Strangers are kept at a distance while he is with Yeul. He is never far from her side which makes him a wall between Yeul and others to prevent people from getting close to her. This can also be said for anyone he chooses to protect, children especially, providing they can understand him and not just through speech. His actions are with a purpose and he chooses to make it clear that he will do whatever it takes to keep them safe until the time comes that Yeul has to leave.               In the novella Fragments After, Caius has been known to protect entire towns that Yuel is born into until she is old enough to speak even though he's seen as a bad omen and often chased out of towns. I suspect, at first, that such actions against him might have caused him to feel doubts but after a few rebirths and experiencing this sort of reaction from villagers, he grew to expect it and learns to adapt. He sees it as a sign of health, in a way. If an entire village does not wish to protect their children, or the reaction to his arrival seems passive, he sees this as a bad sign that the people may not survive long enough to endure any hardships that come their way.                Caius has a commanding voice that demands attention along with his presence. Standing at 6'4" (6′6″ with shoes), he's hard to miss. He speaks clearly through his pitch is a rich baritone with sultry notes. He doesn't generally speak much and is a man of few words unless he finds it necessary to say them. Usually, he is sincere when he compliments and he will even do so in battle even though his opponent may take the compliments as a mockery and react accordingly.                 He handles problems personally and will not fight any opponent that cannot defend themselves, although later he shows no mercy to anyone as time advances and his actions become more desperate with the decline of humanity. He rarely engages in verbal confrontations since he views them a waste of time when he has more important duties that require his attention. Caius is rarely distracted and is seen as single-minded. (In Lightning Returns, this single-mindedness gives way to a more cynical point of view and gives up entirely. He figures that his task is done and goes about his undead life as nothing more than a corpse rotting away, but it's more akin to his soul no longer being his but more to the effect that his soul is no longer human.) The moment he sees any weakness in his opponents in battle he uses it to his advantage and will strike them down. His only reason why he would engage in combat so that way he can be bested and finally rest as an underlying reason. The outward cause is to protect Yeul. If Yeul commands him to stop the battle, he will do so willingly and walk away, as seen in 200AF when he had a clear opening to press Noel and Serah hard after their first confrontation.                    Caius is a very proud warrior and it shows in the way he carries himself in his stance and in the way he presents himself when he chooses to make his presence known. He will not just fight by anyone's side when certain conditions are met. Lightning is a good example of one person he will ally himself with since she is equal to him in battle, and later in Lightning Returns he refuses to have his soul saved since he is merged with the Chaos and has no soul left. Noel Kreiss is another though he still views Noel as weak for not killing him when he had the chance. He will not ally himself to those that want to exploit Yeul or himself by any means. Blackmail, kidnapping or any cowardly show of force will bring the worst out of Caius in an instant and will kill the offender on sight.                      He is noble though his arrogance can be off-putting. He will not speak unless he is spoken to or if the subject matter pertains to him or to Yeul, or he feels the need to speak when the subject matter seems to jeopardise in any way. He will always be present at Yeul's side due to his bonded ties to her as her primary caretaker and through Etro's curse upon him. Every time Yeul is reborn, he spends his time finding her and has to remove her from her birth family the moment she speaks her first word. He is a traditional man with high values regarding life though this later becomes warped as the centuries pass that causes him to become obsessed and single-minded on his goal equating to death by seeking it.                       He views children as precious and will not harm them. Women are the same unless they show prowess in battle, in which he will treat them as equals on the battlefield. This comes from his Hunter's upbringing and his honour as a trained warrior. He is a brutal fighter when he does engage in battle meaning that he will use every tactic possible to gain the advantage. This also means running someone through from behind or using weaknesses against his opponents. While this act isn't seen as honourable, this action is mostly due to his madness. The reason for this is simple. A turned back to an enemy means death and a symbol of arrogance which is a quick way to irritate Caius.                       Caius doesn't make friends easy due to his ruthlessness whenever he is alone. Most of the time, his reputation precedes him through the legend of Caius of the Ballads, the man who had taken out legions for the sake of protecting Yeul. This a never ending cycle of death and rebirth for Yeul has left an indelible mark that his death is the only way to release them from their curse and taking his own life is out of the question, or so he thinks. He discovers later that another being stronger than himself has a hand in the world's change which brings about a series of circumstances that changes his views entirely about the gods themselves.                       At one time, Caius believed in Etro and defended her causes justly, which changes over time with each death and rebirth of Yeul. Once he had become l'Cie after defeating his predecessor and died through the incarnate summoning, he is reborn with the power of Chaos bestowed by the goddess herself due to his willingness to sacrifice his own life to save the Seeress. In time, he became embittered and hateful of the goddess for forcing him to stand by and watch as the child he raises dies over and over again. It's as if his heart has been ripped from his chest each time. He remembers every single Yeul that lives and there are hundreds of them. He remembers their hopes, their dreams, their hobbies, and even their desires along with her prophesies.                      As each parting happens, his rage takes hold and in some cases violently especially later on when the last Yeul dies. Even with his desire to die, he doesn't become suicidal until the last Yeul dies that drives him to become desperate in order to be with her again. If he's the last to live death will never happen for him, even if he were to throw himself at a monster. He has a manner of speaking that is eloquent in spite of his barbaric appearance. He is sometimes described as the calm before the storm, as said by Noel. In this, the meaning is constructed to paint the picture that he is often silent before he strikes with the force to level anything in his path.                     In Lightning Returns, he waits for the day that the world finally ends so he can take his place as a Sheppard of souls. For 500 years since his death, he loses his will to fight and stands watch instead over the countless Yeuls that reside with him in the Temple of the Goddess in the Wildlands of Nova Chrysalia. With another god in the shadows overseeing and manipulating mankind from behind a curtain, Caius is no longer driven to put an end to it but rather gives Lightning "permission" to finish what he couldn't. He even baits her to take his soul. At the end of the battle, which is generally around days 4 to 6, she notices that his soul has melded with the Chaos and no longer his to give.                       With Yeul keeping him as a sort of prisoner out of her own need and desperation, he instead watches events unfold from the temple, unable to step foot outside of it lest he's brought back by Yeul's will. By the end of the game, he's seen again with the many Yeul's he has watched and releases the last one into Noel's care but not without giving Noel one final order. To protect her with his life by swearing his life to Yeul. He releases her from her bonds as a Seeress which suggests that he has become a god of death and takes Etro's place. Yeul and Caius together become what Etro used to be. While Yeul grants life anew to the souls that wish to be reborn through judgement while Caius gathers them and grants the souls a choice; to remain with the Chaos never to be reborn or to return to be reborn.

from a great Caius rper on another site (x)